#things started making sense WAY too quickly. you were coming with him REGARDLESS

[kiwanopie]

A Lucky Find.

Pure luck, isn’t it? (Geto Suguru x fem!sorcerer!Reader)

cw: yandere if you squint. mention of misogyny and inappropriate work place relationships, graphic descriptions of curses and body horror, death by mutilation involving a curse (Not you), mention of religion, only specifics about reader is that she’s visibly very attractive and may have long hair (no descriptors though, it could be a lace) Suguru is out of his mind. You will not be called a monkey in this one.

wc: 3.9k

You’re not a very talkative assistant.

Granted sometimes you’re inclined to wonder if talking would’ve made so much of a difference to the position you’ve been put in, but you’ve never been a particularly choosy assistant either. You’re great at handling quick business, the calls your boss can’t be bothered to take - studious in your evening planning and you can quick work a coffee run like nobody's business. — You don’t complain about the thin heels they put you in, or the pencil skirts. Mired businessmen with filthy smirks and wondering eyes, or the routine baby talk you get from your degenerate boss. You don’t blink an eye at it. - You sit when you’re told to sit and bark when Mr. Minoru decides to hold that pretty little bone over your head.

“You could use a bonus, huh?”

Today it’s a back rub.

You’re silent as your nimble fingers start to press little groves in his upper back, impassive when he groans. Mr. Minoru, your boss, is a very rich man. He’s the successor of a retired tycoon who was once the successor of another and so forth. He’s an amalgamation of power and fortune and a small legion of nepotism babies that regularly walk in through those mahogany doors just ahead of his desk. An investor, you think. Most conversations he has are about money and the best way to double it; fewer are the ones where he’s actually taking the time out of his schedule to distribute it.

It’s all elite talk. Big men following big men following a perv who believes he’s god. Long outstretched legs that extend as he relaxes himself in his seat and hopes that the movement is enough to encourage you to start on his shoulders.

You like to think you got this job out of pure luck. Met the right man at the right time and stumbled over the deal of a lifetime all for the small cost of a little bit of your dignity. — Not like it was much of a trade from your part time job busing tables at that high-end restaurant. Being yelled at by bratty celebrities at a fraction of the price and coming home smelling reminiscent of a meat locker. Now you’re standing on the top floor of a penthouse suite. Smelling of expensive perfume that your boss totally didn’t break worker/boss relation code for and looking down at the entirety of Tokyo from its bay windows.

Pure luck.

The creature hooked to the upper side of his shoulder unfastens its teeth with a firm graze of your fingers. The steam it emits as it fizzles away is sour.

Mr. Minoru has a pension for starting fights with the wrong people, it seems. With bitter people - scornful people. People who hate him and can’t do anything about it, other than wish him harm or hex him in some way. — Worst are the people who don’t hate him, who envy him. Step into his office with painted smiles and clenched teeth. Who curse his name the moment they leave and leave you to deal with these little “bugs.”

Your nose twitches as its rotten smell encombers. For a moment your pretty face is twisted up in a scowl.

The massages started from an offhand graze of your fingers during a dinner at your old job. Pretty little waitress bending over him in that little work dress and running your finger down his felted coat. You apologize for your familiarity, someone must’ve spilled something on his jacket. ~ But the weight on his back is gone from just that little touch and now he’s offering you a job. You don’t regularly make a habit of helping those you’ve already deemed “afflicted.” But the fucker making goo trails on his back at the time was just disgusting enough to hinder your train of thought, and there’s no way you could’ve gone through your shift without reviling every time you passed his table.

So, now you’re his assistant - and today it’s just a back rub. Thankfully not a request to play with his hair and try not to cringe at the way he shutters from it. A subtle pat on the cheek for his good luck kiss, or a request to sit on his lap while he tells you a story he doesn’t care if you’re listening to. Because you’re quiet.

His not talkative, non-fussy, no complaints assistant.

Like always he fills the empty air in place of your silence. “Ah. By the way, princess. We’ve got a guest coming around after lunch. A real traditional fella. So, we’ll need to be on our best behavior,”

“Apparently he’s got some sort of business opportunity for me in exchange for a few investments,” He sighs when your fingers dip a little under his collar. “Says that in his big fuckin’ haori. Probably cost a few thousand bucks,”

Mr. Minoru shifts his shoulders under your firm touches. “To be completely honest, I don’t really know about it aside from the gag of seeing him in person again. Guy has this weird energy about himself that gives me the creeps. — Says he’s avant-garde. — I just think he’s a weird fuckin’ guy.”

“But,” The exhale he lets out is tempered and whisky tinted, clears out the fresh space in his chest that usually frees up when you’ve got your hands on him. “My old man likes ‘em. Says he’d be good for my health if I kept him around. At the very least build some sorta relationship with him.”

“Too bad my health’s in tip-top shape! Eh, doll-baby?” Minoru twists his head to flash you an expensive smile. Faintly defined cheekbones turning rosy when you return it like you know you’re supposed to. “Got my little guru at my side!”

And your simper, although gentle, is forced. Distantly you wonder if you’re the reason these bugs have become so habitual.

——-

This man is very ill.

Though he walks in with his head held high and a particular spring in his step, your diagnosis is that he must be terminal. He must be diseased and irremediable. In a constant state of agony and so stricken with unwellness that he can’t even think straight. You’ve seen your fair share of “bugs” and rabid disfigured animals that grow out of their hosts like fungus. Some that trail behind like lost children with broken crackling legs - a stench that only accompanies the open wounds whose maggots reach out so helplessly. Disturbing things. For all of it you’ve seen, you’re lucky to say that those cases are few and far in between.

But this,

It has many hands and many faces.

Each accompanied by its own set of teeth. Curling lips that stutter as they rise, etched in lipstick and gum; you find mint leaves hidden in the valley of its tongue, coiling as it softly sings. Watching from afar as it hobbles on its haunches like a drunken man, or of fawn newly grazed. It is steady - and constantly moving. It buzzes like a million bees and yet the man standing next to it is seemingly unaffected.

And so are you.

Your gentility becomes you as you politely bow for the man who you’ve so gracefully led to Mr. Minoru’s office. A practiced curtsy is usually enough to get your usual guests commenting under their nose at your bosses taste in assistant’s, but this man is quiet as he walks past you. So above your head that it almost feels like he doesn’t even know you exist. And that feeling is… off putting to say the least.

You close the door behind him as your boss starts on introductions.

“Ah, so you’ve met my beautiful assistant!” He reaches out his hand. “Minoru. Nice to meet you.”

The genuinity in the man’s smile fastens his eyes into slits as he steps forward to return the shake. “Geto, likewise.”

“Geto, huh? I heard the old man sent you for an investment proposition. My guess is it’s something… traditional?” Minoru gestures toward his garbs.

He’s somewhat clinical in his attempt to look lighthearted, but the sigh he blows out feels trusting. “So this isn’t selling “contemporary” huh?”

Minoru laughs and the thing beside him whimpers.

Your fingers twitch against your work skirt.

You’re a distant shadow lingering behind the conversing men as you step to your post on the far side of the office wall, heels clicking quietly when you bend to fix yourself adjacent to Mr. Minoru’s desk. — You’re not expected to listen much to the conversation, or even understand the matters on which they talk about. Just straighten your back when your boss snaps his fingers and follow obediently when he coos an order.

But even if that weren’t the case, you’d say it’d be hard to pay any attention to anything other than whatever the fuck that is hunched beside the man standing just a few feet away. Singing quietly under its breath and repeating the tune like a prayer. Fearful, shaken, pleaful, dread inducing; overlapping in its many mouths. Your fingernails quietly scrape against each other in your attempt to remain neutral but from a keen eye you’re jarred. Disquietingly moving your eyes from the two men still talking adjacent from you and then it again.

It’s looking at you.

You force down a swallow when Minoru calls your name.

“Quiet thing, isn’t she?” Your boss comments amidst the conversation as you approach them. “Could almost forget she’s here if it weren’t for the eyecandy,”

You smile at him like he’s flattering you but it’s muscle memory. “Sir?”

“Gather up those papers from your desk over there, sweetpea. And hand it to the nice man.”

You almost don’t even wanna turn your back on it.

But against your own anxieties you do as you're told. Even with your nerves frayed as they are. You keep your posture as you hastily skirt to your desk and back across the room again. Nimble, slightly shaken fingers lowering to place it in Geto-san’s hand but he doesn’t acknowledge you even when you smile. Vacant eyes. Bored of you already. —- You don’t know if you should feel more offended or alarmed. But in your curtsy before backing away you decide to split the difference and go for disturbed.

Avant-garde. This guy just gives you the fuckin’ creeps.

He works in health, apparently. From what you’ve gathered in the continuing conversation, he’s a spiritual man who offers health by spiritual means. It’s not a very groundbreaking admission, especially from a man in traditional garb, but he assures that his practices have long surpassed ground theory and have been proven to guarantee actual results. From refractory diseases, mental illness, visible injury; his methods could completely eradicate the need for traditional medicine and take the health industry by storm.

But money is a long factor, longer in the doubtful and non-spiritual. “Non-worthy.” It sounds pointed the way he slips that in, but your red flags aren’t shared with your less than convinced boss.

“Spiritual healing sounds great and all, Geto buddy. But you’re directing services to a pretty biased market.” Minoru crosses one of his legs over the other from his perched position against his desk. “Even with the facts, the money’s in objectivity. You’d get more bang for your buck just saying any Yamada worth his salt can walk in and get rid a’ his sniffles for the right price. - Religion ‘ll just turn people off.”

Geto smiles patiently. “Ah, Minoru-san, we’re not religion based. Religion promotes powerlessness. Our services come from practical people.”

You watch as the creature messily swivels on its crooked legs when he invades its space by leaning back a little. “But to insert certain biases kind of sweetens the deal, doesn’t it? People like things that make them feel special. Even the most useless people should wanna prove themselves in some way, right?”

What a crooked way of thinking.

At your quiet displeasure the mass behind Geto wheezes painfully, wincing when you lock eyes with it. Its song pitches and warbles, chops a little like it’s weeping; but even in its effort to resume its discontent is palpable.

You could almost feel acknowledged by it. By its wandering eyes and its tightened misshapen shoulders. Almost as off put as you are from its spot in the middle of the room. The more you look at it, the more it starts to evoke pity. Even in its unsightliness, it looks misplaced and afraid. - Its song breaks like a cry for mercy and the closer you look at it the more recognizable its purpose becomes.

There are knots in its balmy skin so engorged they bleed and tear. Fabric mincing over fictional scabbing and prayer beads hanging out of its gashes. Every twitch it makes reverberates ricey out of rhythm beats akin to maracas and its song, as out of key as it is, is reverential. Powerlessness. Anodyne through faith. You barely find yourself pitying the afflictions of affected people but in the context of this conversation - it’s watering eyes; you feel empathetic toward this thing and by extension Geto-san.

You assume something awful must’ve started that way of thinking.

Should you even stick your neck out for this guy? You’ve dealt with bigger, more violent ones in any case. But this creature seems peaceful. Following faithfully on its hosts haunches as it waits patiently beside him. You’ll have to be fast and unflashy about it, hopefully the stench from that thing won’t make you hurl on impulse. But if not out of mercy, it would be nice to have it out of your line of vision.

Your eyes cross it again. It’s many eyes well with anguish. You decide that at your next opportunity you’ll get rid of it promptly.

As luck would have it Mr. Minoru’s personal phone rings.

He’s quick in his apologies as he fishes it out of his pocket. Passing a smile to Geto as he quickly bows and makes the few long strides it takes to step out of the door and into the hallway, and a few short snaps in your direction as he points you to the concessionaires reserved for his clients near the door.

You’re practiced as you dip for the little fridge on your left, carefully sliding out a glassed bottle of water from the door and a plastic bag of sliced apples.

“Would you like a snack while you wait, Geto-san?”

He ignores you.

Through a quietly exasperated sigh does he slide his phone out of his hakama and pointedly decide not to acknowledge your awkward stance at the far end of the room. — You know he ignores you because the silence that otherwise permeates the spaciousness of your boss's suite is momentarily disrupted by the sound of your voice bouncing off the walls; followed again by that frigid silence.

This is the guy you’re trying to help.

Even so, your embarrassment is brushed aside in favor of making your way to the small coffee table between him and the other leather seat parallel to his. Thin pencil skirt riding a little as you take wide steps to the little spot that separates him from the empty seat - and you from the thin sliver of carpet standing between he and the now quivering mass.

You bend to place the treats gingerly beside him.

And when you rise you reach for it.

There are practiced fingers circling around your wrist before you can even touch it.

Your fear is potent enough to turn its broken hums into racking sobs as you freeze in his sudden grip. Firmly clasped onto you as he raises your arm over your head and forces you to jolt back with a stuttered breath. Faint greyed markings on the palm of your hand fade but they’re caught under his watchful eye, and through your shock you watch his expression switch.

From confusion, to intrigue, to pure excitement.

Your shock teeters on horror as his pupils dilate. “Now, just what were those pretty fingers planning on doing?”

He seems to revel at the sheer bewilderment that colors in your pretty face from where you nervously stare up at him. Doe eyes lit up by headlights, and the radiative heat of suddenly being this close to his predatory gaze. You stammer. “Wh-? Y-You know it’s-“

“Brought it with me, didn’t I?” He speaks lowly as he circles his thumb over your wrist. “Can’t say I don’t appreciate your concern though, sweetheart.”

You shrink. The absurdity of intentionally carrying a burden like this is as mind boggling as it is chilling. Dread inducing, even. With the kind of bad juju that thing emits there’s no other reason to purposefully let it fester beside you than for motives deeply depraved. Deeply disturbed. The way the air around him murkens and electrifies, and a glint in his eye that makes you feel like prey. — He’s looking at you like you’re dinner right now. And something about that feels trillions of times more frightening than any typical rubbernecking.

After being treated like a ghost by this man this whole time. Now he’s looking at you like you’re a slab of meat spread out for him. Succulent and tenderized, pliant under his fingers. Your soft eyes are rigid with fear as his other hand reaches for you blithely, larger fingers dipping in your loose hair and scooping it gently forward. You glance at it from the corner of your eye.

Smoke curls around his palm.

You suppress with a quiet intake of breath.

Geto-san’s cheeks pinken as he gleefully smiles, emboldened by a genuine tinge of ardor. You do your best not to flinch but it’s futile, his chilled fingers consolingly caress your face as he tuts; and gazes at you like he’s committing you to memory.

“Be patient for me, yeah? I’ll be done in a minute.”

You can’t even begin to guess what that means.

But before you can inquire he’s shushing you with a finger up to his lips. Playfully shooing you away as Mr. Minoru’s footsteps patter closer, and you clumsily re-fit yourself into your professional mask.

“Sorry ‘bout that, pal. Forgot about another meeting I was supposed to attend a little earlier,” He pockets his phone. “No one’s fault.”

He leans against the cliff of his desk where Geto-san’s planted himself again. Minoru glances at the unopened bag of apple slices. “Ah, _____, baby. You were supposed to hand him the good stuff.”

“I’m so sorry, sir.”

“No worries.” Geto laughs airily. “How could anything look nearly as appetizing when you’ve got an assistant like that walking around?”

Your ears burn as Mr. Minoru snorts in kind. “Yeah, fair enough,”

He rolls up his sleeves. “A’right, princess. How bout you hop on over to my lounge and break open the good brandy for my guest and I. Bring us the crystal set. Can you do that?”

—-

The decanter in your hand falls with a dull thump.

There’s no… logical explanation for what you’re looking at right now — Who you’re looking at right now. In any other circumstance deep purples would be expected. Blotched boysenberries and flossy reds, dotted with strained blues. You’d expect tearing - bleeding, audible ginger snaps of tendons and extended bone. A scream even, no matter how silent; all are logically expected. Death is logically expected.

But seeing your boss stretched out like leather, not a full five minutes after leaving him alone with this man, is not.

Your eyes frantically skirt over your boss's heaving corpse from your exposed position at his closing entrance. Watching in repulsed terror as his skin tears and bruises, familiar prayer beads falling out of his flesh like stuffing. - His eyes are rolled agonizingly into the back of his head, mouth opened in a scream. His blood sizzles against the maple of his desk and you can do little but stare in horror.

You flinch as the mainline on his desk starts to go off but you’re no sooner cringing at the way his arm breaks just to reach for it. Bloody fingers pushing the receiver, and cheeks tearing just to respond.

His unchanged voice somehow makes it all the more horrifying. “Hi, Souza. Thanks for getting back to me,”

“Yeah, do me a favor,” You back into the door. “Route about ten million to Geto-san’s organization under investment. And be a dear and sign the invoice for me, would ya?”

You’re gonna be sick.

“So, you’re out of a job now, huh?” You nearly yelp.

Geto-san’s standing just over you. “I’ve got a pretty similar position opened up,” He says casually. “‘Wanna work for me?”

You can barely push out a word. Which, kind man that he is, helps you out by deciding for you. “Ah, Great! I can break you in on Sunday. Here’s my card.”

He smiles kindly as you hesitantly pluck the laminated card from his fingers. Looking at you under mirthful eyes that chill more than they comfort.

“If you’re worried about pay, I can give you double of whatever that monkey gave you. Maybe a little extra if you’re as good as he says you are.”

But before you can recoil at the thought of being stuck under the same kind of boss, with the extra caveat of being a psychopath; he adds with a hint of challenge. “That is, if you can get rid of our friend for us.”

You follow his glance to the creature wearing your boss like a hand puppet.

Do you even have a choice?

Geto-san watches with a keen eye as you warily approach the blinking, bleeding corpse behind your late boss’s desk. Heels clicking slowly against his wooden floors, skin prickling at the thought of even getting close to this thing let alone touch it. There’s a smell that you notice as you move closer. A rotten, discrepant smell that pushes as much as it pulls. Aging, airless skin, barreling toward cell death; only marginally slowed by the alkaline smell of embalming fluid. Too old. Too sour.

But there’s something about it that almost — Hypnotizes. Evokes a kind of nostalgia that almost completely disarms you. Church pews and goatskin, leather hardbacks under frilly gloves; and those damn prayer beads. You can almost hear your grandmother’s voice. The minty sweet taste of stale candies tinted by the perfume in her purse. ~ Watching worship but not understanding it. A contact high of conviction. Your boss’s blood spills and it means something sacred, something reverent. And the closer you get, the more that sacrifice feels for the better.

You flicker a glance in Geto-san’s direction. This guy had this shit on standby?

It’s clammy when your fingers finally graze its skin. Sweaty and twitching, like every touch is a pinched nerve; like every stroke stimulates. There’s movement under the first layer, a hissing under the second. It’s mania seeps off of it in droves and the more you linger on it, the more your stomach twists.

You draw back your hand and rub over the difference in texture.

The room is temporarily endowed with smoke at the snap of your fingers.

They’re both gone when the vapor quickly dissipates, blood formerly staining expensive maple now replaced with its originally polished shine. As well as his chair, his area rug, and any other evidence that could connote what truly horrific fate the man in question had suffered in this very room.

Which is enough to send Geto-san into an ecstatic flurry of applause. “H-Holy shit. Where have you been all my life?”

He’s more focused on the way the weight in your lips shift rather than that being because of a frown. Regardless, you’re still a picture despite it. “You’re gonna fit nicely. — My address is on the card. Come by nine? I’ll have breakfast ready by then.”

He turns with a relaxed lilt toward the exit. “You and I are gonna have a lot of fun.”

The door clicks as the lock disengages.

“Don’t make me come looking for you.”

reblogs are appreciated <3

[yogurtkags]

❝ DISTANT DESIRES ❞ — miya atsumu (18+)

cw. MDNI, f!reader, timeskip!atsumu, established relationship, pet names (baby, princess, darling), fluff to smut, sexting, sending risqué photos, teasing, phone sex, masturbation, language, dirty talk, not beta read word count. ~ 2.3k synopsis. atsumu’s away and misses the way you feel against his skin before a big game.

shutting down and closing your laptop, you push yourself up from the uncomfortable desk chair, groaning as you twist and turn, popping your neck and back as you stretch the tense muscles. another day at the office, done and dusted.

you switch out your fluffy fox office slippers for the black slingbacks you came in, walking towards the large floor-to-ceiling windows to take in the scene before you. the sun has set, the moon slowly coming out to play — it’s a friday night, groups of friends and couples alike take the streets to celebrate the end of a busy work week. city lights shine over the crowded roads, hustle and bustle illuminated by the vibrant colours of osaka’s nightlife.

you’d be one with the crowd below if not for the fatigue of crunch time seeping deep into your bones, it’s been one hell of a day, a week even, you’ve lost all concept of time, feeling a little more drained than usual without your love here.

the msby black jackals have a series of away games in tokyo, so naturally, atsumu’s been away for the past couple of days, and you miss him dearly. you understood why he had to go, it just didn’t make sense for him to make the commute everyday and waste precious time that could be spent resting, even if it meant still being by your side. it doesn’t make you miss him any less though, you’ve never been apart from him for more than a day since he asked you to move in with him two summers ago, and you feel it even more so now that he’s put on a ring on your finger.

casting one last look at the files and mountains of paperwork, you sigh, packing up your things and swinging your tote over your shoulder, preparing to finally leave the office. the rest of the floor is empty and the lights are dimmed, pretty much everyone in the building has already left for the night. honestly you were too busy to even notice, feeling stressed is an understatement with multiple deadlines looming.

bzzt. bzzt. your phone buzzes as you’re exiting the main elevator and walking to your parked car— 2 new messages from tsumu ♡

tsumu ♡ : hi princess tsumu ♡ : i miss you

just his name alone is enough to perk you up and put a smile on your weary face, spreading a warmth in your soul, like a fireplace crackling to life in a chilly cabin up in the northern mountains in the dead of winter.

me : hi baby me : i miss you too :(

climbing into the driver's seat, you allow yourself to sink into the leather seats, quickly shooting him a message that you'll be driving in case you take a while to respond and that you'll text him when you get home, getting the car started and heading home.

in the meantime, atsumu's sprawled out on his back over the plush ivory sheets on his queen bed, fresh out of the shower after practice and dinner with the boys, lazily toying with his phone while staring at the ceiling. he thinks the bed's much too large for just him alone, still defaulting to laying on his side of the bed — it's a force of habit that comes with living together, missing the warmth of your embrace and the scent of your strawberry vanilla shampoo lingering on what would've been your pillow.

he knows you’ve been slaving away at work while he was gone, you’re usually home by now but if you’re only just leaving the office at this hour, you’re probably clocking voluntary overtime just to clear as much off your plate as possible. you never liked bringing work home anyway.

he hopes you’ve been taking care of yourself, not that you don’t normally, but you tend to get stuck in your head sometimes when you’re busy and pushed to the limits. regardless, he always worries, despite you telling him that you’re a big girl and can take care of yourself, that he shouldn’t worry his pretty lil head about you.

atsumu thinks he has a growing distaste for away games. they usually mean that he has to be away from you, meaning he’s a tad bit more grouchy than usual, a bit more snappy, much to the team’s chagrin. there’s no point searching the stands for you when you won’t be there, no you to kiss him good luck before lining up, no you to dick down the night before for some fun, overnight loving and a good night’s sleep.

well, lady luck seems to be on his side because little did he know, you’d be coming home to find a very exciting parcel sitting at your doorstep.

you on the other hand, are slightly puzzled. strange, you didn’t receive any delivery notifications, but you won’t say no to a haul. who knows, it might just be what you need at the end of a shitty day, a little retail therapy doesn’t hurt nobody.

stepping out of your shoes and leaving your coat hung by the door, you bring the cardboard box up on your kitchen counter, carefully slicing it open with the first knife you could find. with a gasp, you lift up the contents of the box to find a very lovely set of lace lingerie. i forgot i ordered this.

in a burst of excitement, you immediately bring the dainty piece of fabric to the bedroom, peeling off your black pencil skirt and white button up. putting it on, you stand in front of floor length mirror, hands lightly tracing over the fine details of patterned lace in admiration. it’s beautiful, hugging your figure in all the right places, and you happen to know someone who would love it even more.

flicking on the light switch of your shared walk-in closet, your eyes zero-in on a green shoe box sitting in the corner of the room. it’s tucked away, no one’s ever really needed it, the contents being kept more so for nostalgic purposes, but you’re really hoping what you’re looking for is still in there.

kneeling down to open it up, you come face to face with atsumu’s high school jersey. inarizaki’s #7. perfect, just what you were looking for.

with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you put the jersey on. atsumu’s definitely grown larger and more buff in the several years since high school, but he wasn’t by any means small to begin with, the dri-fit material hanging loose on your frame and ending right by your upper thighs.

it unfortunately no longer smells like him, having been kept away for that long, but just a little spritz of his perfume should do the trick. it’s a far cry from having him here with you but it’ll do for now.

crawling into bed and getting tangled in the soft sheets, you raise the hem of the jersey just to tastefully expose your skimpily clad lower half, arching your back just a little and angling your phone to snap a photo. you’ve definitely taken more risqué photos in the past, for sure, but given you were both apart, much farther than just a short drive, you know this will be enough to set him off, leaving just enough room for imagination.

less than a minute after you hit send, your phone rings with an incoming call and checking the caller ID, sure enough, it’s atsumu.

biting back a smile, you feign innocence, propping your phone up between your ear and shoulder, picking at your manicured nails as you lean back against the soft pillows, “hi tsumu, everything okay?”

“come on, don’t play coy with me now baby, with my jersey too? you know exactly what you’re doin’.”

he is, as always, so so easy to rile up.

with a giggle, you egg him on, “i just wanted to show you what came in the mail today, isn’t it pretty?”

“it is, looks ravishing on you darling. you know exactly what i like don’t you? it’s in my favourite colour too.”

atsumu hums in delight, bringing the phone closer to his mouth and voice dropping barely above a whisper and muttering out the next few words, “though i must say, i think it looks better on the floor.”

you can’t help but bring your bottom lip between your teeth, sinful thoughts begin to run through your mind about what the night entails if this carries on. making sure he can hear your pouting through the phone, “mhmm but you’re not here to undress me, strip me of my clothes one article at a time.”

atsumu pictures you in your shared bed, mind conjuring images of you slowly peeling off your clothes, nipples perked as the cool night air hits your skin, peeking through the sheer lace fabric. he was already sporting a semi hard on, the beginning of an erection provoked by the delicious photo you sent earlier.

he can’t help but reach a hand down to touch himself over his boxers, letting out a desperate and breathy whine that you recognise all too well, “s-shit— baby, please, just help me out here.”

your eyes widened, breath hitching in your throat at the realisation, a wave of pleasure going straight to your heat.

breathing out an okay, you wiggle into a more comfortable position, bringing the collar of his jersey up to your nose and taking a deep inhale of his fragrance, closing your eyes and letting his voice and your imagination do the work for you.

your hands trail down your sides, pulling the delicate panties aside and letting your fingers brush against your clit, folds already glistening with arousal from the mere thoughts of atsumu laying in his bed, naked skin glazed with a sheen of sweat and pleasuring himself to pictures of you.

"talk to me, baby. can you describe to me what you’re doing?”

“touching myself, rubbing my clit.” you gasp, “feels good.”

“yeah? good girl, apply a little more pressure and when you’re ready, put a finger in for me?” he shakily breathes out, "i bet ya look real pretty right now."

you do as you’re told, clenching around your finger, his simple praise shooting straight to your core. oh how quickly the tables have turned, from taunting him to eagerly following his instructions without any second thoughts.

you can almost hear the wet sounds of his hand spreading the precum over his length and his strokes over his cock gradually increasing in speed, his voice breathless and broken,"that's it baby, slide another finger in?”

“that’s my good girl. imagine it's my thick fingers in your pussy right now." you moan at the delicious sensation, eyes squeezed shut as you pump your fingers in and out of your cunt. he hasn't been gone for long but you miss him so much, in more ways than one.

“i miss you so much, miss being inside you, your pretty face when you’re moaning my name, hmm?”

reaching up and rolling your nipples through the thin lace, you moan, “i do, i m-hah, miss you too tsumu!”

at this point, days worth of stress melts away as you chase your release, mind overwhelmed with pleasure as the saccharine voice of your lover leads you to an orgasm.

“i can’t wait to get back and fuck you for real, just doesn’t feel the same without you.” it’s almost like his phone is on his pillow right next to his face, sweet moans and groans tumbling out of atsumu’s mouth, straight into your ears, almost like he’s right here with you caged below him, breathing into your neck.

despite the distance, he feels so close, almost like he can touch you if he just reached forward, “keep going baby, don’t stop.”

your orgasm is building much faster than you initially anticipated, pleasure ripping through you as his wrecked voice and whimpering pushes you closer and closer to the edge as tears line your closed lids and threaten to spill over your cheeks.

“a-atsu!” you cry with urgency, grinding your sensitive bundle of nerves into the palm of your hand, barely holding on to the cusp of release. “atsu i’m gonna—“

“come on, let go f'me pretty.”

with a high-pitched cry, your body stiffens and the coil in your abdomen finally snaps, squeezing tight and releasing all over your fingers.

atsumu pictures it all too well, your muscles contracting under soft skin as you cum to his encouragement— that was the last push he needed and he’s letting out a string of expletives and sharp moans, sinking into the pale sheets as his release sputters over his stomach and lower abdomen.

the both of you lay in silence for a few moments, catching your breath as you come down from the high. you hear some movement through the phone, presumably atsumu cleaning up the mess he made on himself, before collapsing on the firm mattress again.

"man, i wish i could hold you and kiss you all over your pretty face." you can even hear the pout in his voice, heart clenching as you yearn to kiss it off his handsome face. all you can do at the moment is hum in response, wrapping your arms around a pillow and tucking your face into his jersey that you still had on, inhaling the scent of his perfume now mixed with your sweat, pretending that he’s here in bed with you.

regardless, you’re spent, the post-orgasm sleepiness paired with the long day you just had hitting you all at once and your eyes flutter shut, softly mumbling with a tired yet satisfied smile, “i love you, atsumu.”

“i love you too, princess.” atsumu sighs in quiet longing, “i’ll see you soon okay? be back before ya know it.”

bzzt. bzzt. just as he’s about to drift off into slumber, his phone buzzes with an unread message from kiyoomi in the adjoining suite next to his— 1 new message from omi-omi

omi-omi : next time you’re calling your fiancé and beating your meat, please keep it down

notes. @atsumou surprise >:) was listening to snooze - sza while adding the last touches reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !

© yogurtkags. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.

[maikissed]

the day I saw your eyes, I stayed

jude bellingham x reader

warnings: none, just a tad of sexual tension, yeah

note: there is going to be part 2! I planned to write the whole story in one shot but I gotta go to sleep now and was too excited about this rubbish (jk, I love it tbh). And he scored today, whoop sorry for any mistakes!!!!

Rose got herself a new boyfriend. The name brought up in presence of your girlfriends caused much of a fuss. It was a grand revelation and as much as it surprised you as well, you did not share the enthusiasm as every other girl in the room. Not because you felt envious, jealousy was never your thing, you rather grew worrisome. The excitation over the fact that Rose secured herself a football player of such range – famous, a hot topic, high quality player, one of the most valuable characters in the England national team, highly payed, and to add to that: uncommonly gorgeous - absolutely knocked your friends of their feet, but to you… To you it was a sign of massive trouble. People like him belonged to a world where individuals had their impeccable ways to draw from their fame, money and phenomenon as much as they could, despite the morality or ethics. Rose always mingled among various groups of people, there were musicians, actors, even politicians. She was a lovely girl, very pretty, her modelling career developed quickly, spectacularly. But she still haven’t made her name the way she aimed to. You suspected the boys she chose were always an occasion, a special addition to make her reach for more, to be seen, to feel special and unique. She was determined, regardless of the consequences, regardless of the fact how many times she has suffered and burned herself even almost to the point of absolute destruction. It felt awful to even reminisce it. But that’s how it’s been so far, it was the path she has chosen. Although this time this whole situation felt much different, there was a spark in her eyes that could tell you many things. But you would define it this way: she intended to hold onto him, she wanted to keep him. He seemed like the greatest prize. But who would have thought that the massive trouble you feared from the very start would be your burden to deal with?

Jude Bellingham.

Girls were over the moon when the time has come and Rose invited you all to join them in a private lounge in one of the most exclusive clubs in London. You scoffed when you heard the name of the place, you remembered the time when you and Lucia tried to sneak in there, but the bodyguard was too smart to fall for your theatrics. Only precisely selected people could party there. It was one of those grand and fancy places. So you found yourself invited, at last. Yet you weren’t very thrilled about the way you were about to spend your Saturday night. It turned out you would be the only single person there.

And him? The man, the hot topic himself? He was taller than you envisioned, maybe the hair added to that? His smile truly was bright, he was well built, broad shoulders, but not too muscular, well, he was an athlete. The Brummie dialect annoyed you at the start, but the itch seemed to cease as you payed attention to the tone of his voice, there was nothing particular about it, it was just right, good, not screechy, not too deep just… pleasant. He was an amiable guy, you thought to yourself, polite and friendly at the first contact. You realised you were a careful observer until he turned to you to greet. Now you were very much noticed, now you had to act as a part of the events, not a shadow and analyser. And situation very much changed. Time seemed to slow down so suddenly, you found yourself in the strangest state of unconsciousness, like a scene in a movie where the background blurs and any noise is muted, when the spectator is deprived of any other senses despite the sight to notice those specific details that are supposed to made him feel the sublimity of a given moment. And the source of it was in his eyes, you realised, and the way he smiled softly as he extended his hand to you. It was strange and disturbing, his eyes seemed to be the darkest ones you’ve ever seen, but you most definitely had seen eyes like his before, no doubt about it. You took a breath, blinked, fought to not fall into this depth that almost sucked you in. He was smiling, now something slightly impudent about it, and you realised he truly was stunningly gorgeous. Strangely, insanely attractive. Just a simple look into his eyes made you stumble into a realisation that there was something different about this man. And it frightened you.

You did say your name back, did you?

As the night went by you decided to stay in your attentive observer state. You felt safer there, although decency inquired you to engage in few conversations with your friends. Tonight you felt tense, carefully sipping the wine, you tried with all your might to relax and stop examining so intensely the boy seated opposite you. Few new conclusions you came into in the last hour was the fact that he was a great interlocutor, he listened as well, and his smile was one of the most pleasurable things you’ve experienced in your lifetime. You just couldn’t take your eyes off. And another conclusion was that him and Rose was nothing of exclusive. No lingering stares, no secret touches. After all, they met quite recently. She wondered if she bagged him already. And if so, would they all be there if she did? He did not seem like the kind to make such effort to get himself a girl he was not seriously interested in. Rose was not the type to act restrained and unavailable. She crawled into many beds the first night she met someone. You kept yourself far from casual hook-ups and one night stands, just a simple thought of it made you uncomfortable. But for her it was a common thing, if you could use such words. So, was he really interested?

After a while all of your friends decided to use the night to the fullest as the alcohol finally kicked in, rushing to the dancefloor and you truly couldn’t find the spur to join them. You were seriously thinking about taking a French leave. And you almost succeeded.

“You’re not enjoying yourself much, are you?” a well known voice reached you from behind and you turned your head in its direction.

Something in your gut jumped as you spotted Jude. He took a seat beside you. You smiled as his scent reached you, fresh, citrus with addition of something stronger and… alluring.

“I’ve had a long day. Tired, I guess” a safe and simple answer.

His full attention was on you, no one here to accompany you. It begun to feel overwhelming because you did not expected his gaze to be so intense.

“I know the feeling. Find myself in a constant state of weariness lately, cannot get rid of it” he played with his glass, the liquid looked like orange juice.

“Well, you live quite the fast and exciting life” you noted, observing as the corner of his mouth rose a little at your comment.

“Where are you from?” he asked, not continuing the subject you just raised.

“Here, London, born and raised” you smiled again before lowering your gaze, finding the glass of wine interesting “Became as gloomy and morose as this city”

“I wouldn’t describe you with such words” his voice was soft when he said it, something itched in you to ask what words would he use to describe you, but raising the glass of wine up to your lips saved you from that. You hoped you didn’t blush.

“My grandmother always says that I’m an old soul. Emphasizes it like it’s a virtue” you continued.

“That’s a very interesting thing to say about someone. Mine says that I’m a lovely companion although I use way too foul language and it’s scandalous” he frowned funnily and you laughed at the information, he quickly accompanied you.

“Well, I haven’t yet got the occasion to hear some of that tonight”

“I’m trying to be a gentleman” he murmured “It would be improper to throw fucks around in presence of a pretty girl” a lively glint in his eyes as he looked at you.

Now you definitely blushed.

The conversation flowed from there, and you realised you grew more comfortable with each passing minute. He truly was a great listener, and a good companion. He made you laugh many times and suddenly you stopped regretting leaving your apartment for this night out. He was not daft or arrogant as you might have presumed before you met him, being smothered by all this money he had and a name he’s gotten himself at such young age. The complexity of his persona could be spotted in his eyes as you payed closer attention, but it was his words and the way he picked on any subject you brought, that expressed his maturity and wide perception. You haven’t met a guy like him in a long time.

“What are you guys doing here? Come on down, join us!” it was Charlotte’s comment as she came to the longue after a while.

You haven’t even realised how much time has passed and how much alcohol you have already poured into yourself. You only picked on that as you stood up, dizziness hit you like lighting but you composed yourself, agreeing on Charlotte’s and then Jude’s proposition. As soon as you joined the dancefloor, Rose spotted you both, throwing her hands around Jude, guiding him deeper, keeping him closer. He kept his eyes on you as she did it and a strange feeling stroked you as you kept his gaze. Charlotte grabbed you by your hands, singing the words out loud, the song was energetic and lively, you laughed at your friend. Others from your pack nowhere to be seen. So you loosened up and tried to keep up with your drunk companion. The dancefloor became quite chaotic, people jumping around, your eyes landing on Jude from time to time and to your surprise he was looking your way as well. There was a lean and tall guy that jumped in front of Jude, almost stumbling over him and you laugh at that, seeing that Jude laughed as well, his attention still on you. You wanted to share this fun with him directly, but it was forbidden since the realest fact of this night was that he was not yours to have.

“I need to pee!” Rose shouted near you and you turned, watching as she grabbed Charlotte with her, leaving the dancefloor.

You stopped and decided to follow your friends but felt someone’s presence behind your back before you made any move.

“Now I can tell you’re enjoying your night!” Jude called next to your ear, this way you could hear him well despite the thumping music.

When you turned around you noticed how close he stood, you had to raise your head to look at his face, his big and dark eyes gazing down at you, full lips twisted into an amused smile. You returned the smile.

“You are a terrible dancer” you shouted back to him, your voice filled with laughter.

“That’s a fact” he nodded “But you’re quite good, show me more” he reached for your hips to draw you deeper into the dancefloor and you laughed out, throwing your head back as he lead you with him.

You have not payed much attention to the closeness of your bodies as long as the songs were quick and your movements kept rapidly changing with the rhythm. Still, you haven’t realised the sound slowing, a more sensuous song sounded from the loudspeaker, you knew this one. If the reason could break through the basses that reached your ears, you would finish your dance right this moment. But the fact was that it did not. So you continued, with your hands placed at his shoulders you begun to move your hips. Your eyes closed as you turned around, your back to him, he was not touching you, not directly. He took your hands in his and you started to raise it up in the air, you smiled when you felt his breath on your ear. Your joined hands stayed up longer, his on the other hand slowly trailed lower and lower, down your forearms, then your shoulders, then down your body. His touch sure yet lenient and soft at the same time electrified you. Carefully and attentively, making sure to not touch your breasts on the way, he rested them on your hips, feeling the rhythm you kept on. You were not sure if it was him that pressed on you or was it purely your movement, but your back met with his front fully, and a sharp intake of breath stuck in  your throat at the realisation. His hands still rested on your hips, making your body move with no pause. You were close, too close, you could already feel too much. But you found it difficult to part with him, to stop it and call it improper. Your eyes wide open but blind. You only focused on the sense of touch, feeling him moving with you. Your hands fell down to reach his head and then levelled on his nape and you kept them there. Feeling something growing inside of you, along with a rough shot of adrenaline that made your heart beat strongly against ribs. Once more his breath landed on your ear, close, closer. A strange sensation squeezed your throat and you realised you swallowed back a moan. It was like a rough strike, you turned around to face him, with intention to take a step back, but he held you closer, pressing his palm against your back. You sighed and met his eyes. Dark, darker. You wanted to run.

“Thank you for the dance” you said innocently and he watched the movement of your lips as you spoke.

A daring smirk appeared on his mouth and you shuddered. Were you trapped now?

You had to run. So you did.

[deadsetobsessions]

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

F

E

L

L.

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

[back2bluesidex]

Meanie - KSJ (18+)

Pairing: Mean Boss! Seokjin X Fem employee! Reader

Theme: PWP, smut

Wordcount: 900+

Summary: Kim Seokjin is mean and incredibly hot.

Warnings: Blow job, oral, mean boss, not so appropriate sex, things are fully consented between them. NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: here is the mean Jin I wanted to write since the moment these photos dropped <3

Masterlist | Patreon

Two rough fingers land on your jaw, tightening around the angle harshly making your eyes tear up even more. 

“That’s all?” he asks, gritting his perfect set of teeth, “that’s all your smart mouth can do? Can’t even deep throat me? You whore!” 

If it was another time - if it was not this situation - as in you on your knees, sucking Kim Seokjin off, then he would have to pay for this degradation. 

You would have filed a defamation case for calling you derogatory names and would make sure that he sees the face of prison even if it’s only for a day. 

But the situation you are currently in… is kind of compromising. 

You had come to his cabin, slammed your resignation on his dark wood table, called him a selfish prick who wants nothing more than money and money. You threatened him that you would post about the company’s toxic work atmosphere in Linkedin and would give a one star review in Glassdoor but things turned around very quickly. 

Things accelerated from one argument to another (it’s only you who argued, he only replied calmly yet sharply), and now you are on your knees, mouth stuffed with his rock hard cock that you can’t even put in your mouth properly. 

You are but a woman and Kim Seokjin is way too handsome and tempting to turn down. 

He grabs the back of your neck and pushes your mouth more on his shaft. Your drool rolls down the back of his cock and your chin then drops on your shirt making it look darker than the original color. 

“Take me properly, Y/N!” Seokjin groans. 

It’s not your fault that you can’t take him. You are not inexperienced by any means but he is just so fucking big. 

You reel back to the time when you laughed at your co-worker for spreading the “Kim Seokjin has a giant dick” rumor. You thought he would be just average.

But oh boy! Were you wrong! 

Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes as you try to take him full. The tip nudges at the back of your throat and makes you gag instantly. 

Seokjin thrusts up and things become ten times harder. 

But who are you to complain? Especially because your panties are ruined already and you can only think of how good his cock would feel inside you. If you complain now, it will make you nothing but a hypocrite. 

You start bobbing your head matching the rhythm of your predator’s thrusts. Your free hand comes up to fondle his balls. 

Seokjin moans. And you feel a weird and useless sense of pride. 

Turning your bobs faster, you start sucking on him hard. You can feel him twitching inside the walls of your mouth. 

His breaths soon turn heavy, short-lived and ragged. 

You are not doing much better. 

It’s embarrassing to say but you feel the familiar coil in your abdomen regardless of not being touched. 

You rock your hips seeking for the tiny bit of friction that your own legs can provide you. 

But that catches Seokjin’s eyes. 

“Rutting against nothing huh? Such a desperate slut!” he degrades you more with a lopsided smile playing on his beautiful face. 

You don’t reply - of course he is right. 

He slams his pelvis on your face. Your nose collides with his pubic hair, making the intensity of your arousal wilder. 

Seokjin moans prettily again as his hip shudders and he cums inside your mouth. His hand on the back of your neck goes tiger, “swallow it!” he commands. 

You comply. You try to swallow his disposal without wasting a drop. And while doing so, you cum undone wetting your leggings. 

When he is satisfied with your act, he pulls himself out from your mouth. His cock is glistening with his arousal and your spit. 

The mixture of the same runs down your chin making you look even messier. 

“Get up.” he orders again. You do so without voicing any protest.  

“Oh ho!” his eyes are fixed on the apparent wet spot on your leggings, “you came in your pants? So pathetic of you,Y/N.” 

Now that you are coming down from your high, shame washes over you. 

You were here to resign from the job after he canceled your vacation application but you ended up doing things you never thought you would. 

“I will take my leave” you reply with downcast eyes, turning your heels already to pick up your bag and leave. 

“Did I say you can leave?” he stands up from his over-expensive chair. Walking towards where you are standing, he closes the gap between your bodies. 

“I just resig-”

“I don’t accept it.” he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ears. 

“I am kind of mean, you see. I strive to keep the things that I like to myself and myself only.” he continues and gives you a sickeningly sweet smile. 

“Now come, let me fuck the brat out of you. So that you have more spice to add to that glassdoor review when I piss you off next time.” his finger traces the path of your shirt and lands on your chest. He circles his digit around your clothed nipple. You feel your arousal rushing back to you. 

Now if Kim Seokjin wants to fuck you, who are you to reject? But you are not as docile as he thinks you are. 

“Only if you accept the vacation application, Sir.”

Permanent Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @mikrokookiex @jjk174 @lallataegi

[anyasathenaeum]

Hello! I feel like I might have already requested this before your ask box was wiped, but how about a virgin!Knives x Reader smutfic?? I love how you characterized him as shy and flustered over the idea of sex in that one crackfic you wrote 😵 I hope you have a great day and life is treating you well!! You're one of my favorite writers regardless of what you write :D

A/N: Hey anon! Yes, I remember this request! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to it, but here it is! This is my first (serious) attempt at smut with Knives, so uhhhhhhhhh please don't come for me, I tried my best. I've decided to start with some headcanons followed by the fic itself, apologies - it's long. Also, anon - thank you SO much for your comment, you're super sweet and I'm sorry I took so long to get to this. All the best! Warnings: MINORS DNI, Virgin!Knives, AFAB!reader (female terminology is used), hinting towards plants having "heats", a touch of yandere-ish behaviour (it's Knives, so not entirely surprising) penetrative sex, P in V sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), reader is submissive in this one, rough sex, marking, a little bit of a breeding kink, Knives being a Loser™, he's kinda in love with you but the fucker definitely refuses to admit it, name-calling (Knives calls reader things like "slut" and such) Word Count: 3.3k

Virgin!Knives is definitely not nearly as confident and as ruthless as he is in all other points of his life - he might seem like he knows what he's doing, but deep down? Man is SHY, but he'd rather die than have anybody realize that

Seriously, you won't ever hear him talking about sex, and he doesn't even use the word if he can afford to outside of the bedroom

When it comes to his first time, he likes to make it seem like he's in charge and like he fucks all the time, but he's literally just a hair breadth away from cumming the moment you touch him for the first time.

Would absolutely make you ride him (mostly because he has no idea what he's doing), but he plays it off with cool indifference and because he "just wants you to please him".

He tries to make up for it, trying to be more forceful or rough with his thrusts, talking dirty to you and calling you names, but it's a double-edged sword because the moment you're crying out his name and squeezing around him, he sees stars and cums WAY too soon.

Basically, Virgin!Knives is a mess and wants to seem like he's still in charge in bed, but with a few thrusts of your own, driving him deeper and deeper into you, you'd have him falling apart beneath you in moments.

But, of course, because he's not human, his stamina is INSANE and the moment he cums for the first time inside you, it unhinges him (do I sense a breeding kink???) and suddenly he's chasing orgasm after orgasm using you, and you're definitely not gonna be leaving his bed for the next few days.

Full fic below! Enjoy!

"Are you sure this is what you want, Master Knives?"

The question slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. You just couldn't believe what you were hearing.

Millions Knives, the independent plant who you'd been working for for years, had had you brought to his chambers in the middle of the night so that he could ask you something important.

"Are you questioning me, pet?"

The way Knives glared at you, his gaze cold and calculated, made shivers course down your spine, and you quickly bowed your head.

"No, Master Knives. Not at all. I was merely surprised by your request. I apologize."

Knives simply raised his eyebrow as he continued to gaze at you, taking in your form as you stood before him. You'd initially been just some filthy human he was forced to keep around due to your utility and your skills, but over time, as much as Knives refused to admit to it, you'd grown on him. You were one of the more intelligent of your species, it seemed, and one that seemed to know its place whenever you spoke to him. But, in the end, you were still just a lowly, miserable human, part of the plague that threatened Plants across the planet.

So... why?

Why did Knives feel this... pull towards you? Why did he have to fight the urge to be near you each and every time he spotted you, the urge to tuck you against him with his wing and whisk you away, out of sight and out of reach of all others? Why did he feel rage boiling up within him whenever you smiled or laughed at something somebody else had said? A fair share of other henchmen had lost lives and limbs just for speaking to you (not that you knew that, of course - they just conveniently "disappeared" during a mission).

Beyond just those moments, Knives had also noticed... other things. A warmth that seemed to bloom from whatever part of him had brushed your skin, spreading through the rest of his body until it became full blown heat. This heat was unbearable to resist and made him feel as though it were burning him alive from the inside out, unquenchable even when he took matters into his own hands time and time again.

Knives wasn't a fool. He knew of the lust and the need to reproduce that his kind often felt, but he'd never experienced it himself ever before. Not until you showed up. But, you were part of the very thing Knives had sworn to destroy, so why did his body call to you in this way? Why did his body betray him so? What was it about you that made him feel this way?

"You heard me, (Y/N)," Knives spoke slowly and quietly, his gaze not leaving you for a moment as he lounged on his bed, "I wish for you to stay the night."

"Yes, Master Knives."

"You will not speak of this to anybody," he continued, his voice scarily level, "Or I shall ensure you are permanently silenced."

You simply bowed your head again, your heart pounding frantically in your chest.

You had always had an interest in Knives - asides from being somebody who was hired to work from him, you found him a truly interesting being. An independent plant, more beautiful than any living creature you'd ever seen before, hellbent on exterminating the human race to save his sister plants and trying to find his twin brother, another independent plant. He was always transparent of his end goal, and despite it all, you had still agreed to work for him. After all, humanity was a mess and it wasn't going to get any better - you'd seen proof of that time and time again throughout your life.

So, here you were - working tirelessly so he could achieve his goal.

Although, you hadn't expected to be summoned to Knives's chambers so late in the night, and you certainly hadn't anticipated him to wish for you to stay the night. You'd been summoned to his chambers several times in the past, sometimes for work purposes, other times simply on a whim, and you weren't ignorant of the way you felt around Knives.

His presence made you feel simultaneously safe and on edge, as if something was always just about to occur. As though there were always words hanging in the air between you two, just waiting to be spoken but never truly acknowledged.

Despite his reputation of being unforgiving and ruthless, you'd never been on the receiving end of that side of him, somehow. He could be harsh and sharp with his words and his actions, but he'd never caused you any true harm. You couldn't ignore the way your skin felt as though electricity coursed through it whenever Knives accidentally brushed against you, or the way the heat rose to your cheeks whenever you found him watching you intently. He never looked away immediately whenever you caught him staring at you, simply maintaining his gaze and ensuring to keep eye contact with you for a couple moments before looking away almost lazily, as if he'd grown bored of you. But the fact that he did it so often... could it mean?...

You didn't dare let yourself hope. It couldn't possibly mean anything. After all, you were just a human. Unworthy of him in every possible way.

And yet, here you were, summoned to his chambers in the middle of the night and told you were to stay with him overnight. Your mind was in overdrive, trying to figure out what this meant.

"W-Where am I to sleep, Master Knives?" You inquired softly, not daring to look up at him.

Knives would've scoffed and laughed had it been any other person standing before him, but this was you. His pet, of sorts. And as much as he refused to accept it, you softened him. You weakened him.

"We'll address that later, pet. Come here."

Before you could process everything, you found yourself approaching Knives's bed, stopping right before it and waiting for his commands, not wanting to overstep.

"Did I not make myself clear? Here, pet," Knives all but hissed, making it clear he wanted you right on the bed next to him.

Blushing slightly, you quickly followed his demand, crawling into his bed so you were right by his side. You could feel his gaze on you, and you risked a glimpse at his face - his expression was surprisingly calm, almost curious as he studied you as you sat there next to him on his bed.

"Don't move," Knives whispered quietly, bringing his hand up to your face.

Immediately, you froze, almost afraid to breathe.

"So obedient," you heard Knives chuckle, clearly amused, "What a good pet I have."

Without further comments, you felt Knives's fingers beginning to trace over your skin, skimming lightly over your cheeks and making his way over the bridge of your nose, then down over your lips. His touch was surprisingly gentle, more gentle than you ever thought him capable, but you remained silent as he continued his barely-there touches.

You struggled to ignore the beating of your heart and the roaring of your blood in your ears, your whole body feeling like a livewire. You had to remind yourself not to let your mind wander and make your hidden desires obvious, but something in the way Knives was watching you made you believe that he already knew of your hidden desires. You felt your face heating up even worse than before as you looked away from Knives, suddenly finding the threading of the bedding very interesting.

"I don't understand you."

Knives's sudden voice startled you, making you jump slightly as you sat there next to him. However, you remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Look at me, (Y/N)."

Slowly, you brought your gaze up to look at Knives, trying not to let your heart beat straight out of your chest as you did so. His icy blue gaze was steady as it trained on your face, still studying you even intently.

"What do you not understand about me?" You asked quietly, steeling yourself as you held Knives's gaze.

After a couple moments, Knives replied quietly, "I don't understand what it is about you that makes my body feel this way. How you, a mere human... are the only one who has the ability to set my soul and my body aflame. I get no rest because of you."

You felt your heart stop for a moment before it began to thunder violently in your chest, your eyes widening in surprise. There was no way that he meant what you thought he meant.

"Master Knives, I-"

"Nai."

You looked at him curiously, and Knives simply continued, "In here, I'm not Master Knives. My name is Nai. You use my name, here and only here."

"Yes, Nai," you replied softly, testing out his name on your tongue.

"I think you know why I've summoned you to stay the night, now. Don't you, (Y/N)?"

You nodded, making Nai smirk slightly, "Clever pet."

Without a second of hesitation, you felt Nai's hand cup the back of your neck, pulling you down against him and slotting his lips to yours in a passionate, lustful kiss.

You let out a small, muffled yelp as you fell forward onto him, your lips pressing against his and your eyes wide in surprise. His taste was surprisingly bright, and you found yourself melting into the kiss, eyes closing and matching his passion in the kiss within moments. You felt Nai's hands burying themselves into your hair as he pulled you on top of him, holding you close to him as he continued to kiss you lustfully, his desire for you overwhelming his typically-controlled self.

Despite the kiss being lustful and filled with desire, you found that Nai's kiss still felt as though he were holding something back. Was it simply due to him not being as invested as you believed him to be? Or was it for some other reason? Regardless, you found your hands coming up to cup Nai's face gently as you continued to kiss him, his hands resting firmly on your hips and holding you in place.

You could feel Nai's hands pressing your hips down hard against him, and underneath his robe and through your clothes, you could feel something hard rubbing against your core. A wanton moan escaped you as Nai continued to force you down onto him, getting you to grind on him as his hands guided your hips. You could feel your pussy beginning to soak through your panties, and your whole body shuddered as Nai pulled away from you, a string of spit connecting your lips together.

You watched as Nai's knives suddenly appeared from him, slowly approaching you. Your eyes widened in fear, and you tried to figure out what you'd done wrong, your whole body freezing and your blood turning to ice. However, the blades of the knives didn't touch your skin, instead the tentacles slowly working their way under your clothing, cutting piece by piece loose and letting the scraps of fabric fall from your body. The tentacles of knives glided across your skin almost tenderly, continuing their work diligently until you found yourself completely naked in Nai's bed, your clothing nothing more than strips of fabric now.

"Worry not, pet. You'll get new clothes," Nai spoke quietly, his eyes eagerly taking in your naked form.

Nai could feel himself getting riled up the moment he laid eyes on your bare skin, his cock hardening beneath his robe as he took in every part of you. You were beautiful, he supposed, for a human.

As he gazed at you, Nai couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like for him to finally take you, to stake him claim on you and to feel you around him for the first time. Of course, he'd never let you know that he'd never done any of this before, instead maintaining his façade of cool indifference and superiority, as if he'd done this so many times that it almost bored him.

Reaching out towards you, Nai pulled you back on top of him, his robe dissipating and allowing you to finally see him, his cock rock hard and throbbing, a glob of pre-cum leaking from the tip. You could see that the same plant markings that sprawled across the rest of his body were also on the shaft of his cock, as well as his tip. Just the sight of him, laid out before and below you like this and clearly wanting you, had your pussy dripping wet. You couldn't believe just how badly you wanted him inside you.

"Well? Go on, pet," Nai commanded, watching you carefully, "Please me."

"Yes, Nai."

You couldn't believe this was happening, but you found yourself feeling excited by the fact that you actually got the opportunity to sleep with Nai. As much as you wished that it could've been more than just sex, you were happy to have this, at the very least.

Slowly, you settled yourself in his lap, your hand wrapping gently around his cock and aligning him with your pussy, letting the tip just barely rest against your entrance. You were surprised to hear Nai hiss as soon as you took hold of him, feeling his body tense and feeling something warm and wet dribbling over your fingers.

"A-Are you okay?" You asked softly, looking at Nai with slight concern, hoping you hadn't hurt him or made him uncomfortable.

"Fine," Nai gritted out, "Don't question me. Remember your place, pet."

Then, suddenly, you felt Nai's hands tighten on your hips, grabbing onto you firmly before pushing you down onto his cock hard.

You let out a cry at the sudden stretch, your pussy stinging at the feeling of being split open so deeply for the first time in a long while, trying to adjust to the feeling of Nai inside you. With him sheathed inside you, you could feel just how big he was - even without moving, he was pressing against the most perfect spot inside you, pulling a whine from your lips.

"Quiet, slut," Nai growled, his hold on your hips bruising your skin as his fingers dug into your flesh.

What you didn't know was that Nai was struggling worse than you were at the moment - he'd never felt such warmth and tightness before, especially not around his cock, and he was trying so hard not to cum then and there. He hadn't expected you to feel so good around him, or for his body to be this sensitive.

However, as he held you against him, you let out a soft whine of pleasure and began to roll your hips desperately, pushing him just the slightest bit deeper into you. Nai's grip tightened on you, and he was about to growl out another command when his orgasm suddenly washed over him.

A choked "Fuck!" slipped from his lips as he involuntarily bucked his hips up into you, wanting nothing more than to bury himself into you even more than before as his seed coated your walls, painting them in white and claiming you as his in a way nobody ever really had before. You let out a moan and clutched onto Nai's shoulders as you felt the warmth spreading within your abdomen, and you couldn't help but continue to roll your hips as you chased your own release, wanting to feel more of Nai inside you.

"N-Nai, please," you whined, continuing to thrust your hips against him, "Want more... need more of you... please..."

Hearing you plead for him, for his cock, to give you pleasure made something in Nai snap.

In a flash, you found yourself laying back in the bed with Nai above you, his cock still buried inside you and still hard as ever. However, now, you could see a fire in his eyes as he gazed at you, his hand coming up and squeezing your breast. The mewl that came from you as Nai touched you made him feel more powerful than ever before, his instincts beginning to take over.

Leaning down and pressing his lips against yours hungrily, Nai began to thrust into you with urgency, his thrusts powerful and deep, pulling moan after moan from you as he continued to fuck you into his bed. He couldn't care less that this was his first time - nothing else mattered right now except for cumming inside you over and over again until you knew nothing but his name and that you belonged to him. He allowed his instincts to take over, the instinct to claim, to mate, to breed, to fill you up until it spilled from you endlessly.

"You're mine, slut. You hear me? Mine."

The growl that came from Nai made your whole body shiver, and the way he sunk his teeth into your neck and left a dark bruise to show that fact to the world made you scream out, partly from pain and partly from pleasure. You were his now, and nobody else would ever have you.

"Say it!" Nai commanded, thrusting into you harshly without stopping. "Say-" thrust "you-" thrust "are-" thrust "mine!".

"Y-Yours!" You cried out, feeling your own orgasm wash over you stronger than ever before as Nai continued to fuck you through it, "'M yours, Nai!"

"Mine!"

Nai slammed his cock into you one final time as he came yet again, filling you to the brim with cum once more. As he recovered from his orgasm, Nai continued to leave marks down your neck, your shoulders, your breasts, working his way down until he was ready to go again, wanting nothing more than to continue this until he could no longer stand it.

"Prepare yourself, (Y/N)," Nai growled into your ear, pulling your body against his hard, "You're to stay with me all night. And I'm nowhere near done."

[felinecyan]

Trust Deposit

[Keigo Takami x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: His sudden presence and lack of enthusiasm has left you in a state of not only confusion, but also major concern.

WC: 1142

Category: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Established!Relationship

Oddly enough, this is the first time I have ever written for MHA (technically, on this blog, it’s the first of everything). How interesting🧐

『••✎••』

You didn’t know how to react when you saw those familiar pair of wings outside of your small apartment’s patio. The odd part wasn't that he was here, but it was the fact that he wasn’t even interested in going inside.

His back was turned, staring out into the city lights. And from the way he leaned against the railings, his head slumped forward; you could tell he wasn’t in the mood for talking. Hell, he probably didn't even want to be here.

So why was he?

Your chest heaved with every breath you took, and you didn’t even realize that you were inching towards the door until the breeze of the cold night bit at your skin. Your eyes narrowed, and you quickly went inside to grab a jacket, then stepped out.

And even with the loud, quite possibly obnoxious slam of the door, he didn't bother to move his head and acknowledge your presence. His wings remained stiff, and his shoulders rose up and down. You could only presume it was exhaustion since he was probably out on patrol for hours.

And that meant he would most likely leave soon if his actions were anything to go by.

Your brows furrowed, and you walked over to him.

He didn’t look at you, and his gaze was fixated on the bustling city. You could sense the unease radiating off of him, and it made you frown.

He looked... defeated.

It was a look you’d hate to see. Especially when he’s always seemed to look on the bright side of things, even if they were the slightest bit grim. It was something that had always caught your eye about him. He was like a ray of light, even in the darkest of situations.

Optimistic, as he’d say.

But now, that ray of light had momentarily gone MIA. Jeez, to make it even worse, he looked exactly like Endeavor. That thought alone was enough to make your frown deepen.

You leaned against the railings next to him, and you couldn't help but feel slightly offended at the lack of response he gave you. He didn’t even give a single glance or even a small wave of acknowledgment.

It hurt, you wouldn’t lie. But you didn’t say anything. You just stared out into the city, just like him, and hoped he would notice your presence.

The wind picked up, and the cool breeze brushed through his messy, blonde locks. The moonlight bounced off of him, and it made him seem even more tired than he already was. He looked paler, too.

Had he always looked this sickly?

The silence was killing you, and it felt suffocating. It wasn't like him to not have anything to say, and the quiet was almost foreign. You had to say something.

You glanced at him and sighed.

"Commission?" You asked quietly, your voice low but loud enough for him to hear.

His jaw tightened, and he clenched his fists. The first acknowledgment he gave, and you could only assume it was a sign that you were correct since, regardless of your question, he didn’t respond.

So, you hummed in response and continued to stare out at the city. And truth be told, you should really do this more often. The view was magnificent; the lights from the cars gave off the impression of twinkling stars.

You smiled.

"I should really come out here more often," you started. "But given the last time I decided to lean over the railings, I think it'd be a bad idea."

You were sneaky, and it was your best way of trying to cheer him up. It was the story of how you two met. A story where you accidentally leaned over the broken railings one day and almost ended up a splatter on the streets below.

Of course, when his fine ass came swooping down to save you, you were absolutely flabbergasted. He was, too, as a matter of fact, but for different reasons.

You fell in love with his presence, and he fell for your… well, your chicken nugget necklace.

Yeah, he was weird like that. Unfortunately, you ended up losing that particular chain and the chicken nugget pendant after a few weeks of wearing it. But that didn't stop him from coming around to your place, hoping for the real thing.

But, anyway, back to the present.

You expected him to smile or maybe give a laugh or a snicker. Hell, a groan was something you could've dealt with.

But no, instead, he was as silent as the grave.

He didn’t even seem to care or even want to remember. And it hurt because you really loved that day.

It was a fond memory, and it was the start of everything.

Maybe that was why he was ignoring it, and maybe that was why he was acting so out of character.

Maybe, just maybe, he was here to end things.

You frowned, and you could feel your stomach churn at the thought. He wouldn’t do that, right? After all these years?

Surely not…

Ugh, why were you like this? Of course, he wouldn’t do that. There had to be another reason. It’s been too long for him to have gotten tired, and he wasn't that type of person.

Right?

"Um—"

"Stop with that," he interrupted, and you could feel your heart drop.

"I—" You were cut off yet again.

"Birdie, I can feel your heart rate rising from here," he said, and the nickname almost made you cry. "It's not that. It's never been that.”

Damn. He was a little too perceptive, but you guessed that came with being a hero. Then again, there was also the factor that you were extremely predictable. It was why you always lost to him when playing any card games.

"Oh." That was all you could muster.

He sighed, and he finally, finally turned his head towards you. You couldn't read his face, and you hated it. You were always so easy to read, but you couldn't even get a single glimpse of what was going on in his head.

Even when you knew he was hiding something, all you could scramble up were assumptions due to his single-word answers. It was frustrating, and you couldn’t stand not knowing.

This time was no different.

"Do you trust me?"

You didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

His wings fluttered, and he smiled. But it wasn't the usual bright, warm, and friendly smile. No, it was more of a sad, pained smile.

It was forced.

"Thank you," he said.

Then, before you could even say another word, he had jumped over the railings and was already gliding away.

Your brows furrowed, and you leaned further into the railing. You were sure whatever he was feeling was transferred to you because all you felt was a tight, painful ache in your chest.

So much for a one-on-one chat, huh?

[gojoidyll]

hihihi hruuu

Could you pretty please write something where megumi accidentally makes reader cry and then immediately feels bad abt it because I love megumi and I also love hurt/comfort

It's been awhile since I wrote anything for Fushiguro, so I hope I don't disappoint <3

Fushiguro x Reader, Hurt/Comfort

“No, I would never date them. They’re too annoying. Always so loud and clingy too. I would be exhausted just dealing with them.”

“Hey! Isn’t that a bit harsh? Even for you.”

Fushiguro merely rolled his eyes. What started as a meaningless conversation at a sleepover in your room quickly turned into gossiping. And, like any sleepover, love was in the air as Kugisaki and Itadori couldn’t help but to bring up the topic when you left to get more popcorn for the group.

“So, you’re telling me that you feel absolutely nothing for them?”

“Yeah, aren’t you two childhood friends?”

“They merely clung to me throughout school. Nothing more, nothing less.”

As for you? You were waiting behind the door, listening to everything. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was your room after all. How were you supposed to know that your childhood best friend, the exact same person you had a long-time crush on, was telling your other friends how annoying you are and that a relationship between you two will be nonexistent from now and long into the future.

You stood behind the door, frozen in shock, as Fushiguro's words hit you like a ton of bricks. The popcorn in your hands suddenly felt heavy, and your heart sank as you realized that your feelings for him were not reciprocated. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away, not wanting your friends to see you upset.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself and walked back into the room, trying to act as if you hadn't heard anything. But the atmosphere had changed, and Fushiguro's words lingered in the air, casting a shadow over the rest of the night.

As the evening wore on, you tried to act normal, laughing at jokes and joining in the conversations. But inside, you were hurting, trying to come to terms with the fact that Fushiguro saw you only as a clingy childhood friend, nothing more.

Eventually, the sleepover came to an end, and your friends left, leaving you alone in your room. You sat on your bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling a mix of sadness and anger. How could Fushiguro say those things about you? Didn't he know how much you cared about him?

But deep down, you knew that you couldn't force someone to feel a certain way about you. You had to accept that Fushiguro didn't see you in the same light that you saw him. It was a painful realization, but one that you knew you had to come to terms with.

As you lay in bed, thoughts swirling in your head, you made a decision. You wouldn't let Fushiguro's words define you. You would continue to be the kind, caring person that you were, regardless of how he saw you. And maybe, just maybe, someday he would see you in a different light. But until then, you would focus on loving yourself and moving forward, even if it meant letting go of your feelings for him.

Though, you did worry about what tomorrow would bring…

The next day weighed heavily on your mind as you tried to push away thoughts of Fushiguro's words. You couldn't shake the feeling of hurt and betrayal, even though you knew deep down that he had the right to his own feelings.

As you went about your day, you couldn't help but notice the looks from your friends. They seemed to sense that something was off, but you brushed off their concerns with a forced smile. You didn't want to burden them with your feelings, especially when it seemed like they were already tiptoeing around you.

During classes, you found it hard to concentrate, your mind wandering back to the sleepover and the conversation you overheard. (You were also surprised that no one seemed to bother you, not even Gojo-sensei.) You wondered if Fushiguro regretted his words or if he even realized how much they had hurt you. But you pushed those thoughts away, knowing that dwelling on them would only make you feel worse.

After school and a short mission, you decided to take a walk to clear your head. The cool breeze and the sound of birds chirping provided some solace, and you found yourself reflecting on your friendship with Fushiguro. Despite everything, you knew that your bond was strong, and you hoped that it would endure this rough patch.

As you walked, you made a decision. You would confront Fushiguro and tell him how his words had made you feel. You didn't expect him to reciprocate your feelings, but you wanted him to know the impact of his words. You needed closure, even if it meant facing more pain.

When you arrived at your room, you found Fushiguro waiting for you outside your door, a solemn expression on his face. He looked like he had been waiting for this moment, and you knew that it was time to have a difficult conversation.

You had been distant and out of it all day, and Fushiguro noticed. As you approached your dorm room, he called out to you, his voice tinged with concern. As you had got closer you found that you didn’t have the courage to face him yet despite hiding how you felt really well so far.

"Can we talk?"

You ultimately decided to face him, and the concern in his eyes softened your resolve to run away. You nodded, silently inviting him to speak. But you didn't dare open you door. You didn't want to let him in there again. Not yet at least. Whatever he had to say can be done in the hallway (you just hoped Kugisaki wouldn't walk by...).

"You've been acting strange all day. Is everything okay?"

At his words, you finally felt your resolve break as the tears immediately started falling. One second you were fine, but the next moment your eyes felt wet, and seeing you break out into tears caused his eyes to widen, “What-“

"I overheard what you said last night, Fushiguro. About me being annoying and clingy. It really hurt,” your voice sounded shaky as you tried to speak.

“I-“

“I know I can be a bit much sometimes, but I really thought you were my friend, and to think that I- I actually loved you too.”

Fushiguro's expression fell, realizing the impact of his words.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“Then why did you say it.”

“I don’t like those two getting in my personal business, and, well, you already know what it’s like trying to get me to open up,” he smiled slightly, trying to make a joke as he nudged his foot with yours.

“Yeah, you’re an absolute ass sometimes.”

“Only sometimes.”

You frowned, but the tension between you had already started to dissipate, “you’re right, I meant all the time.”

Fushiguro squeezed your hand gently. "I'll try to be better. I value our friendship more than anything. Can you forgive me?"

You looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and regret there. Despite the hurt, you knew that Fushiguro was truly sorry. With a sigh, you nodded.

"I'll forgive you, Fushiguro. But please, don't ever say something like that again. It really hurt."

"I won't," Fushiguro promised. "I'll do whatever it takes to make it right."

As you stood there, holding hands with Fushiguro, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You knew that healing would take time, but you also knew that your friendship with Fushiguro was strong enough to withstand this rough patch.

Not to mention that you knew that your feelings for Fushiguro were still there and that even though he didn’t quite acknowledge the fact that you said that you loved him, you were thankful. You didn’t want to be rejected after you just made up with him after all.

And who knows…maybe Fushiguro feels the same.

[girldriveroscar]

Parasocial Oscar and Landoscar analysis ahead u have been warned.

Contextually, 2020 Oscar was finally pushing open the door to the world of F1 as a potential driver (Mark Webber management, Renault Sport Academy, Eurocup Championship, etc.) and that fact combined with still being a schoolboy, surrounded by mates who actively followed his career and were his personal hypemen definitely made Oscar a bit of a hotshot to gossip about. Sure, he's kinda a nerd who games and races but also he's got great grades and a pretty girlfriend and he's coworkers with max fewtrell, best friend of emerging F1 heartthrob, lando norris, so really the cards were lining up in his favor. And yet none of that success (both socially, as it appeared to his peers, and personally, career-wise) went to Oscars head. Rather, he oozed this dorky endearing confidence that planted the seed of cool self-certainty that'd follow him into his F1 career. I mean from the very start, we can witness how Oscar took everything in stride, building a strong sense of self over easily inflating his ego.

This got kinda long so the rest goes under the cut for organizing sake!

Then, observing his Prema years, Oscar was newly thrust into a whole new team vibe. And in response, he outwardly tried time and time again to be a team player with the hazing/embarrassing bits (insert multiple clips of him dancing and singing despite initial hesitation, easily accepting very personal race vlogging into his daily regime, making hundreds of silly gifs for every occasion (heavily encourage everyone to take a look bc there's genuinely so many))

NGL watching Prema vids was what initially helped me understand Oscar better/made me like him bc we get the most clear display of his lack of ego. There seemed to be a general understanding coming out of this content: the media took an exorbitant amount of energy and wasn't at all conducive to developing his racecraft. buuuuuut regardless Oscar maintained an attitude of these people are my closest thing to family out here, they care about my wellbeing and my success and god damn it if they wanna take photos in matching Christmas PJs then hand over the damn PJs. And that was all of course bolstered by his growing success and notoriety on twitter. Just as he'd established a strong sense of self from the very start, now his public identity took it's shape in a way that felt honest and lifelike <Insert Clip of Angelina pointing out his messy clothes and Piastri Shrug>. He managed to carve out a niche amongst the Prema cast and it's not that he needed to be funny but if people memed him and laughed then hey if it gets me popularity I'm all for it. 

Honestly when people dog on Oscar, saying he's got no personality it makes me crazy because it's the total opposite! I think the charm in observing his growth from Renault Academy to Prema to F1 is catching how quickly he established an unchanging confidence in not only his racecraft and wheel knowledge but also in his personality- and how that personality shines through in subtle ways. When Lando does his negging, everyone just heard Oscar sing for the first time in McLaren, am I a funny teammate, Oscar takes it in stride. He doesn't blush, nor take insult, because he has no complex - he's confident about who he is, even if people don't find it amusing. Oscar knows he's not too shy to burst into song, it's just that there isn't anyone who needs him to, so why should he? He knows Lando doesn't think he's funny, but it's not like he was trying to be anyways, so what's it matter? On the flip side too, the rare times we get an outward expression of his confidence are GEMS. The Pool Promo, where he *unprompted* shows off with a trickshot and wins, THIS VIDEO where he eggs on Lando to call lies on his confidence, calling out Carlos/Lance when they interfere with his driving, does it please you greatly that you've won before Lando, is max the best driver on the grid, the whole cricket video, etc etc.

(LOL because I write about fashion outside of this blog and someone might appreciate the connection, in my brain I kinda liken Lando and Oscar's respective confidence to loud/quiet luxury. Lando's a OOAK Hot Pink Birkin and Oscar is a Helmut Lang black slack lolol) (Not a diss btw both items have social connotations/importance that we could unpack for hours but I digress. this point is additionally funnier because id trust lando to know loewe while gucci and supreme are definitely the limits of oscars fashion insight)

I digress I digress I digress. Going back to the Prema assigned humiliation rituals. In a way I think Oscar's ethos regarding embarrassment/lack of ego heavily simplifies down to this story. His mom goes on to explain how after winning an award she gave him a big kiss in front of the whole school and, contrary to how most kids would be embarrassed or angry at the sudden loud affection, Oscar just brushed it off like no matter! "He's just resigned to it" <- literally the most OP81 psychoanalysis of all time thank you Nicole Piastri. For Oscar, the implied embarrassment he should be feeling does not register, as he simply receives love without any grievances, and hasn't the mind to worry how everyone else perceives this exchange. I swear I have a point pls stick with me. So, reiterating, this is the Prema treatment, sitting in front of the camera, Oscar resigns to producing content that's at least moderately enthusing because at the end of the day, the love for his team and the people he's working with is what's worth sacrificing mystery or "cool-ness" for. And even that's a bit of a misstep because I don't think he views it as a sacrifice so much as 'being perceived' doesn't fall on his radar of important things at all. Which! is what makes Oscar SO effortlessly nonchalant in an objectively cool way! (like this is where the more surface-level likening to Kimi Raikkonen <certified Ice Man> comes from) (The real Oscar freaks know he's not any cooler than his indifference and he's actually an incredibly endearingly awkward guy. He just doesn't take himself too serious, idk you get it.)

Now continuing down this timeline, F1 Oscar, who's got exponentially more eyes on him and a humongous team of people who's names he is still learning- comparatively, who is the one guy he can definitely remember the name of. In this transfer of teams and people, all this “I love you even if its kinda objectively embarrassing for me” energy Has to go somewhere and where else would it go than the one guy who’s name he can remember; the one guy in the same exact position as him; the one guy who he’s followed and idolized since 14! YEAH YEAH. And now Lando himself is hardly an extrovert like Oscar’s old prema friends/coworkers, so instead of yes I'll do a stupid dance so you can have good content and make your job easier Oscar -Acts of Service- Piastri has kinda got the most easy job in the world of loving Lando —I just want to make eye contact and know you hate/love this as much as I do— Norris. Like they genuinely match each others freaks in the sweetest introverted mutually beneficial way.

When you really dissect Oscar's Prema content, he’s equally expressive to everyone! He stares holes in the heads of Fred/Logan, doubles over laughing at Arthur/Robert, blushes over Angelina's teasing; it's a sanction of his care and attention divulged to each person in his sphere, one slice of the Oscar cake. Now take Lando? He's been treated to the whole Oscar Cake with a side of ice cream and a cherry on top. Like imagine if you had 10 glasses of water and you poured all of that water into one glass. Suddenly it’s overflowing and there’s water all over the table and the mess is apparent to everyone and the waiter is bringing over towels and someone's grandma just fucking slipped in the puddle and there's a baby crying and- right? right. Oscar’s love language that was distributed across an entire team of people now has nowhere to go but Lando. And not only is it love in respect to the game, it's I've known you years before you knew me, I fell asleep to your voice, watched you grow into the man you are today type love. Oscar is folded at the waist drowning Lando, staring at him with the force of 10x one man's ration of love and we are all god's honest witnesses! Yea no wonder he want that cookie so effing bad tf!!!!!

And it’s such a compelling dynamic because Oscar has been ready to transfer that quiet affection since the very beginning (had old pics of Lando on his phone up through his first year of F1 rightttt right) and since the start of it all, we just get front row seats to Lando reacting to this unconditional respect/love. WHICH IS EVEN GREATER FOR THE FREAKS AND THE WEIRDOS BC LANDO IS SUCH A WEIRDO AND HIS COMPLEXES TOWARDS OSCAR ARE SO COMPLICATED. Basically like. idk. I love when they beef bc Oscar is like I love u I love u I love u and landos like idgaf I’m cheating on u actually no I’m sorry come here I will give u silly nicknames reserved for only me to call u, but actually fuck u and ur talent I’m not spraying u w champange but also oh my god I’m a mess come be freaky w me about it,,,,, the put Lando Norris in a scenario versus his own mind agenda is great. (Bringing back the og tag to just say not ln4 hate, i just like to observe him like a bug in a jar and shake the jar hard bc he is a millionaire and my silly wabbit who I experiment on) anyways. Yea. Lando is complex. Oscar is cool bc he doesn’t care if he is cool and yet simultaneously he's so uncool bc having a crush on a guy for 8 years before being his mclaren arranged failhusband has never been easier nor sexier. OKAY. NO MORE. for now.

[1-helluva-hazbin]

Hello! can you see a girl reader who wants to be perfect in everything (in appearance, in weight and in work) and cries if someone bypasses her? characters: adam or lucifer :)

I’m so excited for the ask! I’m happy to try and oblique. I’m not certain I 100% understand your ask so if what I’ve written isn’t what you meant, send in another ask! Thank you for your patience while I got to this as well! Both scenarios for both characters are going to be written with established relationships (friendship bordering on romantic for Adam, a romantic relationship for Lucifer). Both stories were only quickly proofread.

Trigger Warnings for Lucifer's story: suicide, self harm, self depreciation

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.  ✶✶ Adam ✶✶  .˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳. Adam x fem!reader

Song that fits the vibe: Sleep Token - DYWTYLM

Adam was used to seeing women cry; usually tears of joy from having their brains fucked out by the dickmaster himself or subsequently tears of sorrow when he made it clear he didn’t want them and their clingy bullshit around long term. Regardless, they were a pretty regular thing for him to have to deal with.

In the time he had gotten to known you, which was decently long since he tended to get bored of the winners, he hadn’t ever seen you shed a tear. Even when you both had initially met and he had said some rude ass shit to you, you gave him grace. You were much like Emily in the sense that you were usually a bundle of joy full of understanding, forgiveness, love for all, blah-blah-blah.

Only you were hotter. WAY hotter.

In his books you were the hottest winner he had ever seen and based on how you acted, you knew you were good looking. You acted sheepish and tried to downplay any compliments you got but he noticed the way you glowed when you got them. You fed off of it. Taking pride in your appearance. You were always dressing to the nines, going through every known self care routine, and working out; even though you didn’t need to in heaven. You had it down to a science at this point with all of it seemingly coming so effortlessly to you.

Even the work you had taken up to help out the angels who needed it was easy for you. You only ever needed instructions once and you could repeat it back flawlessly performing it with ease.

The only more impressive thing besides being the most flawless being of all the heavenly creatures was that you, of all the winners out there, had impressed HIM. Besides killing sinners and fighting, you might even rank higher than Lute for badass bitches. He wouldn’t admit that openly of course. Lute would be pissed. Plus, that would make it seem like he liked you too much and he wouldn’t want to blow up your ego. He wouldn’t want to have to eat his own words down the line.

Yet, one day as Adam had rounded the corner, after a long boring ass meeting with the counsel, and he saw you standing in the vacant hallway with your head down and fists clenched. What the fuck were you doing? He started to ask until he noticed that though your hair covered your gorgeous face, he could see the tears falling to the ground. Your shoulders shaking slightly as you tried to quell the downpour.

The moment he got his barings, he started marching over to you. “Who the FUCK do I have to kill?” Your head whipped up, your eyes puffy and cheeks red. Somehow the tears that littered the marble floor hadn’t disturbed the perfect makeup you had dawned. 

“A-Adam?” you gasp out, suddenly trying to dab dry your face with the back of your hands. “Tell me who made you cry and I’ll fucking slaughter them.” Adam growled out. As he neared you, his approach slowed but the moment you were within arms reach his hands shot out to gently grab your face. His thumbs lightly rubbing away the tears while trying not to fuck with your make up. His eyes roamed your face, taking in how haggard you look, before locking eyes with you, “Give me a name sugartits. I’ll show ‘em not to mess with THE Adam’s friend.”

The intensity Adam was emitting was a little intimidating and yet, the way he was holding your face was so tender. You couldn’t help but lean into his touch as you brought your hands up to cover his. Tears started to well in your eyes again as you took a shaky breath.

He started to simultaneously panic and get wildly more pissed off the moment it looked like you were going to start crying again. His only tell that he was internally raging was that his eyebrows furrowed more, until you brought his hands down away from your face. You held onto them though as you lightly pressed them to your chest, right above your plush bust.

This was the first time you had ever considered talking about this with anyone. Usually you could hold yourself together long enough to get to your room before you fell apart but, today it had all been too much. The fear was overwhelming. The fear of being replaced. Of being tossed aside. You had done everything perfectly. They all had said so. They had sung your praises since you had come and yet now, their attentions had turned elsewhere. How was it that people could suddenly turn their affections to someone else when you had done it all right? You desperately needed the validation; the vindication. You had done it all right, hadn’t you? Where had you gone wrong? What did you DO wrong? How could you fix this?

You look up to Adam with your misty doe eyes. His gauze tightly fixated on you. He was an honest person. Unkindly sometimes but, he was honest. If anyone was going to tell you how you had fucked up and how you could fix it, Adam would.

“It-It…it’s just…” your breathing is shaky so you take a moment before continuing. “I feel…I feel like I messed up and I don’t know how to fix it. There’s…there’s a new winner. She’s really kind, smart, funny, and so pretty. She’s…” you choke up for a moment thinking about all the ways she’s attractive in the ways you aren’t, “SO pretty… and helpful. She’s so fast at everything she does. I…I…”

“Okay sugartits you’ve lost me. Why were you crying over some new winner?” he asked, utterly bewildered.

You tear your hands away from him as your eyes well up again. You shouldn’t have expected him to understand. “EVERYONE wants her help… I haven’t been able to help anyone out since shortly after she ascended and I feel so…so useless. She’s replacing me… I’m… I’m replaceable… how? I thought I did everything right? She’s so much better than me-”

“Shut the fuck up.”

The words stunned you into silence and halted your spiral, just as the tears had started flowing again. “You really think some dumb bitch is going to walk up in here and take YOUR place?” he scoffed rolling his whole head, “Yeah fucking right. I give it a week tops before she fucks up. As if some rando new winner can take YOUR place. They’ll be crawling back to you asking for your help. BEGGING for your help. You being the goody two-shoe you are though will forgive them for being stupid and will go back to being #1 at whatever boring paperwork they have you doing.”

“But…why would they just… What did I do wrong?” you ask with a hoarse voice his explanation not making sense.

“Do wrong?” He gasped out, “You couldn’t do a damn thing wrong in your life if you tried. They’re just being fucking dumb. You’re better than every other winners out there and when they realize that you need to rub it in their face. Make them LOATH the day they thought they could replace you. Until they pull their heads out of their asses I’m sure I got some stuff you could help me with.”

He reached out and wiped away the tears again. The aching in your heart eased slightly knowing he wholeheartedly believed what he was saying and, for the moment, his conviction was enough for you. Not that it completely quelled your feelings but, you were able to manage them far better knowing you were still wanted in someone’s world.

His eyes lit up, “You know, you could come to meetings with me and take notes or whatever. Give me the cliffnotes. That shit is SO boring. I’m sure your notes will be better than the official ones they write up anyways and I don’t have to read that shit.”

You smile laughing softly, “I can definitely do that.”

He returned the smile, his thumbs lightly caressed your cheeks, before withdrawing his hands. His whole demeanor instantly reverting back to his usual cocky self. “Damn am I good at giving advice out or what? Just another way I’m FUCKING amazing. You know what, I deserve some goddamn ribs.” he hooted as he turned and started waltzing off.

Seconds later he turned and looked back realizing you were still standing there in a daze, “Come on sugartits I ain’t got all day!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

♱𐕣 𖤐 𐕣♱  ☽𖤐☾ Lucifer ☽𖤐☾  ♱𐕣 𖤐 𐕣♱ Lucifer x fem!reader

Song that fits the vibe: She’s An Actor - Austin Giorgio

Trigger warning: suicide, self harm, self depreciation 

You would have thought by now you would be used to being compared to other people. 

Used to aiming for perfection, without ever truly achieving it.

In life you had been constantly used as a pedestal; your sister, friends, co-works. It had never felt like you could claim the recognition you wanted despite having done everything right. 

The perfect GPA in school with extracurriculars to the point you only got a few hours of sleep. Yet your sister’s athletic achievements in swim and cheer had always meant more to your parents. 

The modeling career that you had gotten into, with your best friend following suit only for her to have gotten a contract a year before you. She had even attributed it to your help during a renowned shoot. An unintentional wound that drove you to the edge of your sanity; studying every fashion magazine, the extreme exercising, dieting, any pills that might help and you could get your hands on. 

Then once you finally caught your own break, getting a contract with a big modeling firm, constantly being included in the creme dela crop of models. The never ending critiques of what outfit looked good on which body for x, y, z reasons. Even if you were chosen more than every other model in the company for being the most ideal woman to show off the reveried outfits of the season, you were nothing more than a manikin. Replaced at the drop of hat the moment you couldn’t do it.

You couldn’t stop yourself though. You had to do it all. You had to do it flawlessly. You were a failure if you didn’t.

Yet, somehow it was never good enough.  Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t. Even in death, the out you brought about convinced it would be your sweet release, hadn’t ended the torment.  You had only condemned yourself further.  The epitome of failure.

Why couldn’t you even die right?

How had you ever attracted Lucifer’s attention?

As you stood in the the hotel lobby, the Hazbin Hotel gala fundraiser in full swing with all the top sinners and hellborns mingling and enjoying the free event, you felt eyes scrutinizing you. 

Your corset was cinched as tightly as it would go, reducing your waist dramatically, though giving you a somewhat nice hourglass shape. The mermaid style, galaxy themed dress had a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder straps. It was a deep hue of royal purple on top before gradually fading to black starting at the hips as it descended your figure with gold and silver stars across the entirety of it, fit your figure snuggly and played off of Lucifer's pristine white and gold tux, his bowtie and pocket square the same royal purple. All your assets were perfectly held within the outfit, with tasteful peeks of skin showing beneath the chiffon overlay at your sides and a silt from just above the knee down. A golden snake choker with its head seated in your jugular notch, accenting your bust.

Lucifer hadn’t left your side since the event started. He had a hand incessantly lingering on your lower back as you both navigated the sea of people. You weren’t sure if the constant touch was for him or for you, but it helped steady you as you held yourself together by a thread. Every person you met was better than you in one way or another; status, poise, brand name outfit, professional makeup.

There was no hesitation with each new face in identifying any and every advantage or feature they had that you lacked. Another chip off your shoulder.

The socialite veneer seamlessly masking the degradation you were inflicting. The practiced saccharine smile never leaving your lips. Well timed laughs. A slight head tilt here to show your interest followed by a slight nod. The only honest part of your act was the high praise you sang regarding Charlie and her truly stunning optimism and strong willed determination.

You could feel the scrutiny lightening the longer the night went on. Some people even reapproached you and Lucifer to continue talking. Prior feigned politeness making way to many of the hellborns attempting political fanangling. Both you and Lucifer’s attempts to redirect the conversation back to the point of the party thwarted or outmaneuvered. Eventually, the conversations fell outside of your ability to participate. You had become an adornment.

You were so tired, so heavy.

Following a particularly trying bird guest whose smarmy quips were particularly taxing you excused yourself from the conversation, missing Lucifer’s panicked glance as you moved away. You just needed a break. 

Just a quick one.

You looked yourself over in the mirror. Fixing any stray hairs. Correcting any smudges of lipstick or eyeliner. You noted the contour along your nose could have been darker to thin your fat nose. You’d need a tighter corset as well should you need to attend another party like this.

You backed up to further evaluate yourself.

The prettiest you can be and still you are disgusting.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you took a slow deep breath. No. No you looked good. This would be something you could wear for a shoot. You just needed to change a few small things. Maybe a couple things. Possibly one bit thing. All the comparisons throughout the night flooded your mind, a tsunami. If only you could change everything about yourself. All the things you lacked. All the things you needed to be. Nothing you could ever achieve.

You choked out a sob. Your hands crawling up your arms as you hugged yourself tightly. You dug your claws into your flesh. Stop this. You couldn’t break down now. The gala wasn’t over just yet. You squeezed your arms tighter, not realizing your claws had broken skin. The failed attempt to reel yourself in breaking you further. Failure. Why couldn’t you hold yourself together for a night? You hunched over as now silent tears hit the floor.

A knock sounded at the door.

You held your breath, eyes wide as you stood there. A breath in through the nose and out through the mouth. “One moment please! I’m almost finished!” you call, your voice taking on a melodic tone. 

There was a pause. “Open the door sweetheart.”

Lucifer. You didn’t reply. Didn’t move. Didn’t breath. He knew you only used that voice when you were hiding a breakdown. It didn’t help that the bathroom was your go to place. “My sun, please?”

You crumbled.

The moment the door was unlocked he was in the bathroom with you. His small, lithe body slipping in and closing the door behind him. A soft smile greeting you despite the puffy eyes and tear streaks staining your made face.

“I’m ready when you are.” he whispered.

Your eyes widen and you’re frantic at the thought of being the cause of the king of hell leaving. Look at you fucking something else up tonight. Before you could say anything, a portal appeared behind Lucifer. He gently took your hands before he stepped back. He didn’t pull you though. 

You stared at him; his gentle smile, soft eyes, adorable cheek marks. The tears started flowing again and your hands squeezed his. You stepped into his room in the hotel several floors up from where you both had been, the portal closing behind you.

A glittery red mist engulfing the both of you before disappearing in seconds. Both of you in the dark blue rubber duckie pajamas he had created for your 1 month anniversary however long ago. His a short sleeve shirt with loose fitting pants and yours a spaghetti strap dress that flowed down to your knees. The gashes on your arms cleaned and bandaged up. Your hair down and make up gone. Across the room, your galaxy dress and his heavenly white suit and usual hat hung up on hangers.

“Thank you…” you whisper, trying to wipe away the endless tears that were still flowing down your face. He pulled your hands away from your face and lightly kissed you. He led the way over to the bed, both of you quickly climbing in. You cuddled into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. You closed your eyes. Listening to his heartbeat and steady breathing. One of his hand of claws raking through your hair. A rosy cheek pressed to the top of your head.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” He asked in a whisper. Your hands clutched his shirt. Embarrassed you couldn’t keep yourself. He turned his head to kiss your hair. “You don’t have to tonight. It’s been a long day. Tomorrow though?”

You don’t want to. You don’t want to face the feelings, to face him. Admit to him the truth that nothing you did was ever truly good enough. That you were a failure and tonight was further proof.

You backed up to tell him it was nothing. That you just got overwhelmed and were tired. To hide away this ugliness. 

The look of concern caught you off guard though. He was unmasked. Vulnerable. Asking for you to be the same. He had been open about answering everything you had ever asked him, why couldn’t you do the same?

You couldn’t fail him. You could be a failure in every other way but not for him. You couldn’t fail him. Wouldn’t. 

Slowly, you nod and echo, “Tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He returned his cheek to the top of your head squeezing you into him with both arms. His tail manifesting and wrapping itself around your closest lower leg. “I love you.”

You burrowed into his side again, your own arms securing him to you. You smiled, feeling his tail. “I love you too. Thank you, my star.”

Both of you quickly succumbed to sleep wrapped in each other’s embrace.

Neither of you believing you deserved the the other.

[justabigassnerd]

I'm Right Here

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader

Word count - 3,515

Warnings - mentions of kidnappings, angst, but mostly fluff/comfort

Summary - You wander off during Maverick's volleyball match sending both you and him into a panic

A/N - it's a Maverick fic y'all!!!! I really enjoyed getting to explore what Mav would be like as a father, especially during the events of '86 Top Gun and I've also learnt that writing Goose and Mav's dynamic is my new favourite thing I love them. This was a request I was sent in and I hope I did it justice! I also just wanna say that watching the volleyball scene back showed me that they weren't actually on the beach so I set it kinda near the beach but not at the beach if that makes sense? Anyways I'll stop rambling now. As per y'all please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!

“Alright squirt, are you ready to see me and Uncle Goose beat Ice and Slider in volleyball?” Maverick asks with a grin as he scoops you up, making you squeal happily as you hug your dad tightly.

“Uncle Ice!” You cheer happily, excited at the thought of seeing Iceman. Maverick chuckles lightly at your words.

“You’re well on your way to breaking Goose’s heart, darling.” Maverick laughs before pressing a kiss to your temple. Since moving to Miramar to attend Top Gun, you’d decided Iceman was one of your new favourite people and Maverick saw how Ice looked out for you and appreciated it, regardless of their rivalry. Now, it meant that Goose was facing competition for the title of best uncle and Maverick thought it was hilarious.

“Let’s make sure we have everything packed so we can go to the beach once we’re done.” Maverick says and the second the beach is mentioned, you’re squirming to get out of his arms to gather the things you want to take with you to the beach. Maverick grabs a bag and lets you pack what you want while he packs some food to take to the beach. Once the bag is packed, Maverick helps you put your shoes on and as he straightens up and slings the bag over his shoulder, a knock at the door rings out.

“Hey, Goose.” Maverick greets his RIO with a smile as he opens the door.

“Hey, Mav.” Goose beams, giving Maverick a high-five as you notice Goose’s presence.

“Uncle Goose!” You yell excitedly, running to him as quickly as your legs could take you.

“Hey, pipsqueak! How’s my favourite Mitchell doing?” Goose says as he picks you up when you hold your arms up. Goose laughed when he saw Maverick’s narrowed eyes at his question.

“Those are brave words coming from someone whose position of favourite uncle is being threatened by Iceman.” Maverick says cockily as he slips his aviators on and grabs his keys before he brushes past Goose to exit the house, leaving Goose shocked as you giggled at his expression. Maverick would usually take his motorbike to the volleyball court but with you coming too he opted to walk instead. He didn’t live too far from the court and Goose offered to walk with you, so it was decided that the trio would walk.

“Mav is that- y/n, you prefer Uncle Goose to Iceman, right?” Goose asks desperately, maybe too desperately given that he was begging for approval from a three-year-old but being your godfather and had been your favourite uncle since you were born, he was willing to fight to hold on to that title.

“I love Uncle Goosey!” You say with a grin, making Goose nod in approval as he follows Maverick down the path.

“And I love Uncle Ice.” You admit which makes Maverick double over laughing when Goose’s smile drops from his face instantly. He quickly recovers and smiles at you once more.

“You’re going to break hearts when you’re older.” Goose says with a chuckle as you gesture that you want to be put down.

“We are not thinking about that Goose, stop talking.” Maverick says quickly, covering Goose’s mouth to stop him from talking any more. You were barely three years old, and Maverick was already dreading the day you’d grow up and start dating. As the three of you walked to the volleyball court, you kept running ahead, distracted by your surroundings and as Maverick turned his attention back to you, he found you almost wandering off.

“y/n/n, come here please!” He calls for you and you run right back to him. Maverick knelt down just before you reached him and he took your small hands in his.

“You can’t wander off, sweetheart, okay? Make sure you’re always in my sight, or Uncle Goose’s. Does that sound okay?” Maverick asks, his eyes searching yours as you nod.

“Okay, daddy.” You say with a large Cheshire cat grin that Maverick can’t help but mirror. Maverick then stands up to his full height and takes your hand once more, continuing the walk. When the three of you reach the court, you see Iceman and immediately, run up to him, demanding you get a hug as you greet him and of course, Iceman complies. As Iceman gives you a hug, Slider gives you a high-five, both men doting on you as Maverick puts the bag down and takes his jacket and top off, ready to play volleyball.

“Iceman, Slider, I thought we were here to play volleyball not to fawn over my kid.” Maverick calls over to the two as he puts his shirt and jacket on the bleachers that the bag is sitting next to.

“Don’t be jealous just because you’re not the centre of attention, Maverick.” Slider taunts as Iceman places you back on the floor, letting you run back over to Maverick who scoops you up and sits you on the bottom bleacher, next to the bag and his shirt and jacket.

“You stay right here and guard my stuff okay kiddo?” Maverick asks with a smile as Goose ruffles your hair lightly. You nod at Maverick’s words and attempt to slide Maverick’s jacket on, both of you laughing at the sheer size of it compared to you.

“It’ll fit you one day, kid.” Maverick grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he and Goose cross to the court to begin the match against Iceman and Slider.

At first, you watched the match diligently. You laughed when your dad and Goose would happily celebrate scoring a point with a double high-five. Your attention slowly slipped away from the match and onto your dad’s jacket you since had taken off, tracing the images on the patches until something fluttered past you, tearing your attention away from the jacket completely. You see a small bird staring at you, head tilting as it flicks its tail. Entranced by the bird you hopped off the seat and walked towards it. The bird fluttered away slightly before landing back on the ground again, turning back to face you and flicking its tail once more, seemingly instigating a game of cat and mouse. You continue to follow the bird, giggling as it flies a few meters away and yet still turns to see if you are following it. After a while, you and the bird came to a standstill, staring at each other and as you waved at it, the bird hopped a little closer to you, inspecting you curiously as it chirped, flicked its tail once more and then finally took off into the sky. You watched it fly high into the sky, waving goodbye at it as it joined its fellow birds who soared in the sky with it. When you finally tore your eyes away from the birds in the sky, you looked around you and had a sudden and horrible realisation that you had no idea where you were, or where your dad was.

Back at the volleyball court, the aviators had just wrapped up their match, with Iceman and Slider securing a strong victory as they celebrated loudly. Maverick had grumbled about how he was going to beat Iceman and win the Top Gun trophy to prove that this volleyball match meant nothing. When he approached the bleacher to grab his shirt and jacket so he could go to the beach with you and Goose where you’d meet with Carole and Bradley. When he reached the bleacher, he noticed that you were nowhere to be seen. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked around as he pulled on his shirt and tugged his jacket on, the panic in his eyes hidden by his aviators.

“Goose, have you seen y/n?” Maverick says when he senses the presence of his RIO, turning to face him. Maverick’s worry only increases when Goose shakes his head.

“Last time I saw her you sat her here before the match.” Goose’s response made Maverick’s breath hitch in his throat. He felt panic rising within him as he looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you somewhere. Having heard Maverick’s panicked breaths, Goose placed his hands on his pilot's shoulders, getting Maverick’s focus on him.

“Mav, we’re going to find her, okay? She can’t have gotten far. We’ll find her.” Goose said reassuringly. As a father, Goose understood Maverick’s panic. There was one time Goose lost sight of Bradley in a store and Goose nearly had an aneurysm thinking someone had taken him. Thankfully, he found Bradley in the sweet aisle, his little hands grabbing at as many colourful packets as he could. Goose had never felt a relief quite like finding Bradley again and he scooped his son up in his arms and held him tight, instructing him to never do that again. Iceman and Slider, noticing the panic between Maverick and Goose, came jogging over to the two after throwing their shirts on.

“What’s going on?” Iceman asks, eyebrow raised as he glances between Goose and Maverick as he tries to assess the situation.

“We can’t find y/n.” Goose says, hardly removing his focus from Maverick so he could focus on keeping Maverick from hyperventilating. At Goose’s words, Iceman and Slider exchanged a worried look before turning back to Goose.

“Come on Slider. We’ll look around for her.” Iceman says to Goose who nods quickly before resuming his focus on Maverick. The pilot and RIO duo take off in a random direction, calling your name and looking around for you or anyone who might’ve seen you. Meanwhile, Goose was still focusing on keeping Maverick with a clear head so he could focus on finding his daughter.

“Deep breaths, Mav. We can ask around while Ice and Slider look for her.” Goose says as Maverick takes his aviators off, wiping at his eyes fiercely.

“What if someone took her? Or she gets hurt? I can’t lose my little girl, Goose.” Maverick says worriedly, more tears working their way down his cheeks.

“We’ll find her. Come on, let’s ask around and see if anyone has seen what direction she went off in.” Goose says with a gentle smile, encouraging Maverick to follow him so the pair could ask fellow navy personnel if they had seen where you might’ve gone.

You were still confused and lost. You hadn’t moved from where you realised you were lost, too scared to move so you stayed put, bawling your eyes out as you hoped your dad would find you. There was no one around to help you. In your fear, you sat on the floor, not knowing what else to do other than cry.

“y/n! y/n, where are y-” Iceman cut himself off when you came into his line of sight. Your head shot up at hearing Iceman’s voice, but your cries didn’t slow.

“Ice!” You managed to cry out as the blond pilot ran over to you, kneeling down and assessing you for any injuries before you threw yourself into his arms, tears pouring down your face.

“Slider, go and get Maverick, now.” Iceman instructs his RIO as you bury your face in his shoulder. Slider nods and without hesitation turns to run back in the direction of the volleyball court to track down Maverick.

“I want my daddy.” You whimper into Iceman’s shoulder as he moves to hug you.

“I know sweetheart. Slider’s gone to find your dad, okay? They’ll be here soon.” Iceman whispers reassuringly, glancing around as if that would bring Maverick to you quicker. You hadn’t wandered massively far from the court, but Iceman understood that what is a simple path to him would not be the same to a three-year-old. After a couple of minutes of Iceman whispering words of reassurance and promising you that your dad is coming, Maverick appears with Goose and Slider hot on his heels.

“Daddy!” You cry out when you see Maverick, quickly wiggling out of Iceman’s arms and into Maverick’s as he bends down to pick you up, setting you on his hip as you cry against his shoulder. Maverick allowed tears of his own to fall as he let out a shuddering breath of relief when he felt your tiny arms wind around his neck.

“I got you; y/n/n. Daddy’s got you.” Maverick whispered as he pressed repeated kisses to your temple as you cried, clinging to him. Maverick’s free hand came up to rest on the back of your head, running a hand through your hair as you sobbed in relief.

“I was scared.” You whine, making Maverick’s heart break as more tears roll down his cheeks at your words.

“I know sweetheart. But I’m right here. I’m not letting you out of my sight again.” Maverick assures, squeezing you tighter before pressing more kisses to the side of your head. Just as Iceman and Slider went to leave, Maverick turned to face them.

“Thank you.” Maverick says to the two who nod their heads in acknowledgement at his words.

“No worries, Mitchell.” Iceman says, the two men now seeing each other in a whole new light. Iceman was now seeing a devoted father who would do anything for his daughter instead of the reckless and cocky aviator he saw at Top Gun. While Maverick was now seeing someone who dropped everything to look for a kid that wasn’t his and without being asked instead of seeing the man who lectured him after every training session for flying dangerously. After sharing a curt nod with Maverick; Iceman and Slider headed back to the volleyball court, leaving Maverick and Goose with you.

“I think we’re going to head home, Goose. Just let Carole and Bradley know we’ll catch up with them another day.” Maverick says to Goose who nods in understanding.

“No! I wanna see Brad!” You exclaim tearily when you hear what your dad says, pulling away to look your dad in the eye. Maverick raised an eyebrow curiously while he lifted a hand to wipe your tears away.

“We don’t have to go to the beach sweetheart.” Maverick says, worried that you’d either wander off again or felt you had to go just because Bradley was going too.

“I wanna see Brad and Auntie Carole.” You whine, burying your face in the crook of your dad’s neck as he looks over at Goose who shrugs.

“Your call, Mav.” Goose says, not wanting to intervene. Maverick turned his head to look at you as you pulled away again, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could as Maverick cursed internally. He could never say no to your puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, we’ll go to the beach with the others. But you are to stay in my sight at all times.” Maverick instructs, his expression conveying every ounce of seriousness that he could as you nod, understanding every word he said clearly. Maverick glances over at Goose and gestures for them to head back to the volleyball court to gather up the beach stuff before heading down to the beach. You refuse to let your dad put you down so Goose takes the bag and the three of you begin the short walk to the beach. When you reach the beach, Goose crosses to his wife quickly and captures her in a sweet kiss before sweeping Bradley up into a hug. Just as Goose puts Bradley down, he quietly explains to Carole what had happened earlier and she felt her heart break for the Mitchell’s knowing how terrifying the thought of losing a child was. Carole immediately moved to speak to Maverick as he attempts to lay out a beach towel while keeping you in his arms.

“Hey Mav, how’s she doing?” Carole asks sweetly as she helps Maverick lie out the towel and smiling at you as you wave at her.

“She’s pretty shaken up. I also feel like I gotta buy Ice’s drinks for the rest of his life for finding her.” Maverick admits with a slight chuckle as he moves to carefully sit down, freeing one of his hands to ease himself down.

“She’s not hurt physically either, thank god.” Maverick says as you settle yourself into his lap, your once teary eyes lighting up when you see Bradley come running over. Goose sets down another towel alongside Maverick’s and sits down on it, opening his arms and gesturing for Carole to sit in between his legs which she does with a laugh, snuggling back into his chest. Once Bradley has dropped his toys on his parent’s towel he launched at you for a hug, pushing you into Maverick as he dramatically fell onto his back, causing a pile of children on his chest as he wraps his arms around the both of you.

“Uncle Mav! y/n!” Bradley giggles, wrapping his arms around you in a hug you reciprocate a bright grin covering your face.

“Hey, kiddo.” Maverick says, ruffling Bradley’s hair as he swats at his hand, protesting loudly as you giggle. When Bradley finally clambers off, Maverick sits up, adjusting you so you’re sat in his lap once more as Bradley rushes to his parents, his little hands digging through Carole’s beach bag to find his bucket and spade.

“y/n, do you want to build a sandcastle with me?” Bradley asks, his eyes shining with glee as he grins at you. At first, you don’t respond, wrapping your arms around Maverick and cuddling into him.

“Oh, y/n might not be in the mood to build sandcastles right now, buddy.” Goose says, noticing your reaction and looking over at his son who looks between you and his dad curiously.

“Why not?” The five-year-old enquires, not understanding why you didn’t want to join in on building sandcastles.

“She’s just a bit tired, sweetheart. But you can build sandcastles if you want.” Carole says, smiling sweetly at her son.

“But it’s no fun without y/n.” Bradley whines, his bottom lip jutting out as he complains.

“Bradley, come on buddy, you have plenty of time to build sandcastles with y/n another day.” Goose says, trying to lighten his son’s dampening mood. Noticing Bradley insist that building sandcastles is better with you, you feel more in the mood to build sandcastles with Bradley. But you were also terrified to be out of your dad’s arms in fear he’d disappear and you’d be alone again. Maverick noticed you looking at Bradley and loosening your grip on him so he looked down at you with a gentle smile.

“You want to play with Bradley, sweetheart?” He asks, giving you the freedom to decide whether you wanted to or not.

“Yes, but I don’t want to be far away from you.” You admit, looking down at the towel and Maverick’s face softens as he moves to hook a finger under your chin to lift it so you’d look at him.

“I got an idea.” Maverick says with a small smirk. He shuffles forward on the towel until he’s right at the end of the towel, barely sitting on the towel. He then stands you on the sand, still holding your hand as he reaches his spare hand back to the bag to dig out your bucket and spade, handing them to you with a smile.

“Okay, take two steps forward.” He says and you do as he asks, looking back at him after each step to check he’s still there and to your relief he is, grinning at you.

“There we go! You’re doing so well! Now, hold your hand out towards me.” Maverick then instructs gently, waiting for you to do as he asked and when you do, he reaches out and takes your hand in his.

“See that? If you feel worried while you’re building your sandcastles you can just reach for me and I’ll grab your hand, yeah? But if it feels like too much you can always come and just cuddle and chill out with me.” Maverick says, making sure you know you have options as he speaks and to his joy, you nod and immediately kneel down in the sand with Bradley and begin making sandcastles.

“You’re good with her Mav.” Carole says with a smile as the parents watch their kids playing in the sand.

“This was a win-win for us. She didn’t want to be too far away from me and I wanted her in my sight. It seemed like the best solution.” Maverick shrugs as if what he did wasn’t a big deal, barely glancing Carole’s way as he focuses his attention on his daughter, waiting to see if you reach out for him. Every time you looked over at him to make sure he was still there, he was sure to send you an encouraging smile and took your hand whenever you asked for it. But mostly you were kept occupied by Bradley, the two of you building rows of sandcastles and decorating them as you happily chat with each other.

“Twenty bucks says these two get married when they’re older.”

“GOOSE!”

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

Hi! Can you make TkDb characters (anyone you like) x Witch! Reader fanfic? So like, how they found out and how they react with that, or you can add something that you see fit! (⁠人⁠⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠)

Hi Anon! I hope you don't mind but I changed this to headcanons so I could write a bit about everyone. If you'd like fanfics about anyone in particular, please let me know! I also had to break this one up into a few different posts separating the characters into their houses but I'll link them all here. I hope you like the headcanons!

Witches and Ghouls - Frostheim Edition

Fandom: Tokyo Debunker

Characters: Jin Kamurai, Thoma Ishibashi, Lucas Errant, Kaito Fuji x gn! Reader

Frostheim | Vagastrom | Jabberwock | Sinostra | Hotarubi | Obscuary | Mortkranken

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You're a witch! And even though the characters have made deals with demons themselves, they might have some surprising reactions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jin doesn’t put much stock in gossip but it is certainly good for bringing his awareness to possibly true information. So when he heard that you might be a witch, he put in some extra investigation.

And boy was he surprised to find out that this particular rumour was true! He just wasn’t expecting you to actually be a witch.

Honestly, he’s going to be a bit cold around you for a bit, especially if you’ve been together for a while. He sees you keeping this from him as a breach of trust.

Eventually, he will realise that you were keeping it from him for good reason. Once he does this, he’ll accept your witchiness wholeheartedly. He cares about you regardless of whether you’re a witch or not.

Thoma’s pretty observant so it probably wouldn’t take him long to figure out that there’s something different about you.

When he finds out you’re a witch, he’s not super shocked. He had his suspicions after all. Now that he knows for sure, all the little things that happen around you make a lot more sense.

Unlike Jin, Thoma knows why you would hide your witchiness. Until you want to tell people, he’ll happily keep your secret.

He’s also great at helping you cover up any slip ups. Oh the door that’s been stuck for years suddenly opened when you tried it? Must have loosened up since the last person tried it.

I think Lucas wouldn’t find out unless you tell him. He’s quite observant with a lot of things but when it comes to you, he can have a bit of a blind spot.

He’s not going to react well initially. Much like Jin, he sees it as a betrayal of his trust, especially if you have any ways of helping with his investigation into demons.

But he’ll come around quickly and be very apologetic about how he reacted. It’s your business after all, he’s just glad you’re willing to forgive him.

He’ll do his best to make it up to you as well but helping out with any witchy stuff he can. Need ingredients? He’s on it? Got a migraine from pondering the orb? He’ll give you a head rub.

Yeah, Kaito’s going to find out super fast. Surprising everyone, he’ll probably figure it out faster than any of the other ghouls. He’s too focused on you not to notice.

It’s definitely going to freak him out to start with. He’s pacing around in his room torn between staying away from the spooky witch and hanging out with his very attractive partner.

Eventually, the latter wins and he’s back to normal and he’ll be apologetic about his actions. He’s already lucky you like being around him, he doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardise that.

You’ve also got a really good bargaining chip if he ever steps out of line. Just remind him of your witchy powers and he’ll very quickly stop whatever he’s doing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

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[read-write-thrive]

part 1

“Waiting for the other shoe to drop”, while pessimistic, seemed to be a running theme in Charles Rowland’s life. It wasn’t really a phrase he heard when he was alive, to be fair, but at some point he’d come across it (probably hanging out with too many Americans, but can’t remember for sure) and it felt a little too much accurate. His dad’s come home angry again? Time to wait for the fallout. He’d gotten written up at school for not paying attention? Just a disaster waiting to happen. He goes against his best mate’s advice? There he goes, literally torn from Charles’s arms and back to hell, just as he’d said. Maybe the last one was a little dramatic, but that’s the gist.

The looming anxiety of it all usually slid off of him for the minor stuff, and was otherwise bottled up and shoved far away for the heavier stuff, but regardless he didn’t let it show. Have to keep up appearances and all. He’d only had one real instance of all those emotions blowing up (and he still blames the Night Nurse for all that mess) so he thought he was doing a bang-up job keeping himself together.

That was until his dad died. Yeah, it was rough, and he ended up berating the old man on his death bed, which probably was a shitty thing to do. And yeah, he’d needed a bit of a cry afterwards. So what? Blokes cried sometimes, and he was man enough to admit to his emotions and all that. The girls had done a good job of emphasising that he (and, mostly, Edwin) needed to express their emotions more. That it was healthier to let it out than bottle it all up. Not sure if they still needed healthy habits as ghosts, but it wasn’t hurting anyone. Just a little uncomfortable.

All that to say, it felt like his friends had been treading on eggshells around him ever since his dad died. Which was infuriating, yeah, but also didn’t make sense to him. Especially after he’d already cried—did they expect him to get angry again? To blow up over a dead man? He thought he’d gotten it out of his system just fine, so getting these weird vibes was starting to stress him out more than anything. He’d resolved to bring it up on their next movie night and ask why they were acting funny—didn’t want to mess up a case, after all.

However, he didn’t get the chance before it all came crashing down on his head. Ultimately, Edwin was the messenger.

“Charles, I—“ he took an unnecessary breath, “Have you checked on your mother lately?”

His undead heart went cold, but his default smiley ways were still stuck on, “Not really, why?”

Edwin’s eyes were sad, which was never good. He didn’t emote unless it was serious, “I think you need to visit her. She’s not faring well.”

And so they went. Turns out everyone hadn’t been waiting for Charles to blow up, but rather for his mother to pass and then for him to break down all over again. Edwin had been checking on her daily since his father’s passing, deducing correctly that Charles would be too swept up in the emotions around his dad dying to remember that his mum wasn’t getting any younger.

The girls weren’t free until the evening, but they promised to stay in touch and maybe visit later if they could (particularly if they could figure out how to visit the Hospice without rousing suspicion). And so Edwin and Charles were on their own.

Charles had rushed into the room, as if running at the issue would evade the emotions of it, or as if getting there quickly would reveal it was all a lie—neither of which were true.

Instead, he was face to face with a dying woman with some resemblance to the photo on the mantle in the house he grew up in—his grandmother, or maybe his great grandmother, or some favourite aunt, he couldn’t remember anymore— hair gone fully white, pulled back into a tight bun so as to keep her curls controlled, keeping her gaunt, sleeping face exposed. Unlike that photo, this woman was in a hospital gown, tucked into sterile sheets, with a tube under her nose to help her breathe. Gone were her usually loud and ornate earrings, her bare fingernails stained from years of colour. There was a singular blanket laid across her lap, on top of the sheets, that almost looked more familiar than the woman it covered. It was her, but apparently he hadn’t stopped to just look at her any time recently, if ever. It felt too much like looking at a ghost, as ironic as that felt.

She was awake, but halfway to dozing. There was someone at her side, adjusting the blanket and murmuring reassurances in what was definitely Punjabi. It had been so long since he’d heard it, added to having never properly learned anything besides English under the threat of his father, that he couldn’t make out the words. That realisation left a stinging feeling in his chest.

“A relation of yours?” Edwin asked at a whisper, coming up to stand beside Charles, almost entirely copying his position from that fateful hospital room. It didn’t seem as if either of the room’s living occupants had noticed them.

Charles blindly reached for Edwin’s hand for comfort, not looking away from the scene in front of him and matching his partner’s volume, “No idea. Don’t think I’ve seen them before.”

Edwin hummed, “Perhaps a little too young to have met you. Or someone your mother reconnected with recently—“

“I’m not really in the mood for deductions, love.” Charles said, not unkindly. Everything felt too fragile to be picked apart like that.

“Right. Apologies.” Edwin squeezed his hand and went quiet.

Charles squeezed his hand back in forgiveness, joining in the silence. He kept going back to what the stranger was saying, familiar consonants both soothing and devastating. What kind of a son was he, failing to comfort his dying mother, unable to speak her mother tongue, a stranger to his relatives? His tears were thankfully silent.

It took much longer for his mother to see them than his father. Several days passed, with the mystery relative coming and going more days than not, and the usual nurses and caregivers administering various care. Over time, the boys (the girls couldn’t figure out how to enter the space, but were supportive from their distance) had learned that the stranger’s name was Sangeeta, and she was a niece of his mother’s who’d noticed her steady decline and was the one to take her to hospital and then to hospice care. Charles’s mother had apparently stopped taking care of herself after her husband’s death, and she had refused other care, so at this point all they could do was make her comfortable. Charles spent a whole morning ranting to Edwin about it, how unfair it was that her life was so tied up in his asshole father’s that she wasn’t even trying to live after he was gone. Edwin, the deeply kind person he was, had let Charles rant until he ran out of steam, then gently pointed out that she’d been under the thumb of his father for far longer than Charles was, and that she’d now had to mourn her husband and her only child, which presumably takes a toll. Charles had started crying before Edwin had even finished talking, and Edwin had held him close on the plush sofa for the rest of the day.

It was hard to tell if it was a comfort or not when she finally saw them, but Charles decided that wasn’t important to think about right now, if ever. Right now, his mother could see him for the first time in forty years, and they didn’t know for how much longer. And yet, with all this time to prepare, he still found himself speechless when the time finally came.

“Mere laal,” She beat him to the punch, eyes glazed over but clearly locked on Charles, “I am glad to see you again, beta. It’s been so long.”

Charles let out a shakey breath, “Hi, mum. It’s—well— it’s been longer for you. I’ve visited a few times, over the years.”

She reached out a sinewy hand on a bone-thin arm, and Charles flew to the seat by her side, keeping his focus to make sure his hand stayed solid in her grasp. He vaguely noticed Edwin taking the seat beside him.

“Such a handsome boy. You were so young.” Tears welled up in her eyes.

Charles, all anxious energy and nerves, tears of his own threatening to spill, was quick to respond, “It’s alright, mum, I’m alright. No need to cry over me.”

She huffed, “Nonsense. You were the light of my life. Who else should I cry over?”

They were both crying at this point, tears streaming as they sniffled in turns. Edwin laid a careful hand on Charles’s back in a show of comfort.

However, that seemed to give Charles an idea, “No, really mum, it’s okay! See the bloke next to me? His name’s Edwin, and he’s been by my side all these years! He’s the one who first found me, and we’ve been helping people ever since. It’s been aces. Not sad one bit.”

Edwin stiffened at the mention, then all but froze when her eyes turned to him. He knew he looked night and day from Charles, and if he started talking she was bound to find him as abrasive as everyone always did, so why had Charles pointed him out!? If ghosts could sweat, Edwin would be drowning in his nerves.

Her gaze stayed on him for a long moment before she broke the silence, “He’s been good to you? Not like those other boys.”

Edwin wasn’t sure what to do with that, but thankfully Charles was quick on the uptake, “Not like them at all. He’s— he’s the best, mum. None of those tossers could even compare.”

“Because the boys— the ones who—“

Charles gripped her hand, “I know, I know. He’s a genuinely good person, Edwin. I was bad at picking friends in life, but thankfully I chose well with this one.”

His attempt at joking was overlooked completely by her, “Those boys, how could they do that? I knew their families, John Parish’s mother went to your funeral… Such cruel boys…”

“I’m alright, mum, I’m okay.” Charles kept going, smiling even as the tears continued, “It’s all in the past.”

“I should’ve fought harder for you… kept you close… mere laal, taken from me…” She was sobbing, her whole frame shaking with hiccoughs.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Charles took a steadying breath, “You know I couldn’t have stayed in that house, mum. And no one could’ve known those lads would go that far…”

Her sobs were worse for a moment, then stilled suddenly as she fought for oxygen. She coughed weakly.

At that, Charles’s crying intensified, despite all he did to keep himself together. He could tell. He knew what was coming. It was still devastating to see. Edwin pulled him in for a proper side hug, taking care not to jostle his grip on his mum.

This did not go unnoticed, and the dying woman suddenly smiled, as if the devastation was forgotten with the oxygen. She looked back to her son, “I am glad you have been happy, beta. You deserved happiness.”

“I’m happy, I’ve been so happy mum, I promise,” Charles tried to calm himself down, stuck in his reassuring her.

“Mere laal, light of my life, darling boy,” She breathed with difficulty, smile dropping, “Can you forgive me? I failed you…”

Charles’s frame shook with his vigorous nodding, “I forgive you, mum, you did the best you could, I love you so much—“

Her weak smile returned, glinting in the lamplight of the evening room, “Thank you, beta. You were too good for me, for this world…”

“All because of you, I swear it, all thanks to you—“

“Charles.”

“I love you, I’m sorry I wasn’t a better son, I’m could’ve been better, gotten you out of that house—“

“Charles, darling.”

“You deserved better, I love you, I forgive you—“

“My love, the light—“

Edwin was right, a deep blue light had filled the space, illuminating the still body of his mother. Her face was pulled into a slight smile, eyes closed, as if she was having a pleasant dream, even as the tear tracks dried on her cheeks.

“No, no I’m not ready—“ Charles immediately started to protest, gripping onto her hand like a lifeline.

“Charles—“

“I only just got to see her! She only just got free of him! No, no, I won’t—“

Edwin gently but solidly grabbed under Charles’s arms, “I’m sorry my love but we should go—“

Charles was nothing but hysterics by this point, head thudding onto the sheets for a moment before Edwin fully pulled him away. He said more, but Charles was too overwhelmed to process it properly, buzzing in his ears and headache behind his eyes making him feel alive in all the worst ways. Maybe it was just the first time he had cried this hard in his afterlife, or maybe being this close to an active death did something to their physiology—

Everything was a blur as they returned to the flat, Edwin all but carrying him through the mirror so that he wouldn’t get lost on the way. They collapsed onto the sofa, extra large cushions taken up by their ghostly presences. The girls were already there, and joined into the cuddle pile without another word (or perhaps with a few, Charles still wasn’t all there yet). Edwin jostled them all slightly to better position everyone before settling in again, making sure Charles was properly surrounded.

Charles sobbed for a while longer. He wasn’t quite sure for how long, or what day it was, or if he was bothering his friends by taking up their time and space like this. His devastation had seemed to take over his entire being. But, when he did breathe a little easier, when he was finally able to sit up, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. His mom was dead, yes, but so was he, and dying had granted them both freedom from that man, from that house, from the cruelties of the world. And in his death he was surrounded by people who loved him, people who were there for him when he needed them and would still be there for him tomorrow, and the next, and the next. The other shoe had dropped, and it certainly hurt, but thankfully he had people around him to help him through it. He was truly lucky to have them.

~

hope you enjoyed this impromptu series exploring Charles and his parents and grief and loss and all those lovely things. this was inspired by the complicated emotions I have / had after my grandparents passing, and I heavily encourage you to do something similar if you’re ever struggling with these big emotions—therapists and such will say that journaling is where it’s at, but sometimes it’s easier to project onto fictional characters and that’s ok !!! and, just to drive the point home, I want to reiterate that you are loved, and there are people around you who are there to support you, I promise ❤️

also, just to make it abundantly clear, I’m a v white midwestern american and as such have vvv limited knowledge of cultural aspects of Charles’s mom—I did research and tried my best, but if I screwed anything up PLEASE let me know so I can fix it!!!!! same goes for Britishisms ig but mostly looking for feedback on her Punjabi and her various cultural elements :)

[rayslittlekitten]

Grumpy Old Man

A/N: Okay, so this is my first little Joel Miller fic. This was inspired by episode 3 +5. Just a fluffy little thing. Hope you enjoy!

Rating: G

Word Count: 974

Pairing: Joel Miller x GN! Reader

Plot: Your partnership with Joel evolves.

Warnings: None

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Joel not grumpy. It’s his norm. You can’t tell if it’s an old man thing or he’s just always been perpetually acutely miserable even before you met him. Either way, you find it adorable. And when you tell him that, the corners of his mouth dip down even more and at that point, you don’t know if he’s flirting with you or just emphasizing his discontent.

Joel is not an affectionate man and doesn’t really say or share much. You’ve tried to talk him to open up, but he quickly shuts down the conversation as soon as it gets too personal. You never really know what he’s thinking, but you always notice the little thoughtful things he does for you. Aside from protecting you, making sure you’re fed and have a safe space, he also has his own language of letting you know he cares in other ways.

You notice he usually gives you a bigger portion of food, especially if it’s something you like. Food is hard to come by so you always feel bad when he does that, but you would feign you've had enough to eat so you let him have the rest.

Every now and then when you both go scavenging, if he finds something he knows you'll appreciate, he'll throw it in his bag and gift it to you at a later time even though he's always told you to only take what's useful because you should travel light. To him, anything useless regardless of how small it was, was just wasting precious space.

Says the man who found a stash of worn out Archie comic books, which you once mentioned you enjoyed reading growing up, and quietly shoved them into your backpack when you weren’t looking, probably while you were asleep when he kept watch. He doesn't feel an obligation to you nor distrust you, but for his peace of mind, there are some nights he feels safer keeping an eye open.

Another time, you had found your worn down boots replaced with a newer pair.  Joel apparently found a decent pair your size and swapped them out with the ones you've been trekking everywhere with for a while. The rubber soles were thinning and the one was only staying on the bottom of the shoe because of duct tape. When you made a joke about them not being your favorite color, he said he had checked and that was the only option.

You thank him every time for the small gestures, but he always just grunts and brushes them off or changes the subject. The man of a few words sure says a lot through his actions and tonight is no different.

The temperature had dropped drastically and there wasn't much to keep warm except for two dinky little sleeping bags. A fire was out of the question, not wanting to draw any attention. Joel didn't seem so keen on the idea at first, but he had suggested to use each other’s body heat to stay warm. This is the first time the two of you have ever been so physically close together, aside from that one time he pinned your body against a concrete wall and clamped his hand over your mouth to quiet you to avoid being caught by FEDRA when a trade between your crew and his went sour because you all were at the wrong place at the wrong time. FEDRA had raided the abandoned, decrepit building that was once an elementary school and everyone scattered and ran, but you and Joel were the only ones who escaped as far as you both knew. Joel doesn't take on strays, but having already been acquainted, the two of you stuck together ever since to increase your chances of survival.

It was a bit awkward at first, as the both of you have always remained platonic and only saw each other as allies but you'd be lying if you said there isn't some tension between you two. The more time you spent with him, the more you started looking at him differently, and sometimes you think he senses a change as well, but it's hard to read Mr. McMoodypants.  Whether it's human nature, convenience, or just having no one else but each other, this partnership seems to be breaching companionship.

You're both snug inside a large sleeping bag that he merged together with the two. Your backs are right up against one another which seems silly since it defeats the purpose of keeping each other warm, but he could still be crabby about that comment you made about him being adorably grumpy. Trying to get into a more comfortable position, you turn over and curl up behind him. You rest your hand on his waist and feel him stiffen underneath it for a second. After a few seconds, you feel him grab your hand to bring it up to his chest. His fingers interlace with yours and you press yourself closer to him, basking in the warmth his back is radiating. You can feel his heart slowly beating beneath his cozy flannel.

"Who knew the grumpy old man has a warm heart," you joke.

Joel lets out a deep sigh and ignores you.

After a few quiet moments, you check to see if he's still awake.

"Joel?"

"You're a few words away from getting kicked out of this sleeping bag so choose your next words wisely," he responds, staying in the same position.

You can't help but smirk. He's as grumpy as he gets.

"Good night." You strain your neck to give enough reach to boldly plant a kiss on his cheek before finally settling in.

A few seconds later, Joel surprisingly brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your fingers, his beard tickling you.

"Good night." 

[yanderes-galore]

yandere zombie John hcs?

Here's icky zombie man, hope you love him because he loves you.

Yandere! Zombie! John Marston Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Violence, Slight gore/blood, Possessive/Protective behavior, Murder, Forced companionship/relationship.

Honestly, this could go one of two ways.

You knew John back in RDR2 and met him again during this outbreak, unfortunately he's infected.

That, or, you have never met this man in your life and now you have a zombie following you around.

What's even worse is the fact John isn't entirely mute as a zombie.

Most of the others have the benefit of being mute when they turn.

John? Nah, with him you get what sounds like the equivalent to the screams of the damned.

At least... That's according to his 'Undead Cowboy' outfit.

John failed to survive this outbreak and now he's left to shamble through the west with seemingly no direction.

It could be interesting that he found you and recognized you as an old member of the gang...

That or he just found a human he could get attached to, following them around like some lost puppy.

It doesn't matter how you meet him, you nearly have a heart attack regardless.

I like to think you're helping out a settlement or looting some abandoned coach... Only to turn and see John staring you down with glazed over eyes... pardon, eye.

John's lost an eye, his lips have rotted away, and he has a horrid green complexion to his skin.

His clothes are tattered and bloody... yet he seems oddly docile.

Knowing you can't afford to waste bullets or fire on a zombie such as him, you keep your eye on him and ignore him.

Hopefully he just wanders off... even he just seems to stare at you.

I like to think John is partially blind, too.

His sight is rotting away so he can't entirely see you.

But he does know you're there.

You only ever run when he makes an attempt to come closer, making a raspy yet loud noise as if trying to call to you.

It's then, regardless of if he's an old friend or not, you ditch.

You leave so fast when John tries to shamble after you.

Unfortunately, this is not the first time you see John.

You see John plenty after this, actually.

While his face is mostly rotted, it appears John can still smell you to a degree.

It's small but... he can sense you.

The good news for you is he's rather blind and can't smell all that much.

If you really wanted to... you could probably keep him around as a pet in a way?

You will eventually learn he's docile only towards you and probably use it to your advantage.

Originally you think he's just docile because he's weakened.

Although... It appears your new zombie companion has other motives.

John seems to listen when you talk to him.

Although when he starts trying to talk to you... You quickly shush him.

He's so loud and it's hard to understand him.

You're thankful you have gloves... whenever John tries to talk to you just, hold his jaw closed.

Which then leads to John making upset grumbles.

John isn't as affectionate as zombies like Sean.

He mostly respects your space and just likes to stumble around you.

Before you took him as a companion, John would stand at a distance from wherever you're staying.

He's outside abandoned cabin windows, just beyond your tent...

The weirdest thing is you've noticed he can use firearms... somewhat.

While John can indeed pounce and bite like other undead creatures...

One time you were in danger, disarmed in an attack.

Then John shot one of your handguns at a zombie, before gesturing for you to light it on fire.

It... surprises you that he's retained basic survival skills.

He isn't entirely a feral beast.

This event may actually be the one that makes you keep him.

Much to his pleasure.

John is actually aware of being dead.

This is no doubt one of the reasons he isn't affectionate towards his obsession.

He is completely aware that you'd find that weird.

Especially since he keeps gooping everywhere....

John retains quite a bit of humanity as a zombie.

He doesn't particularly like indulging in human meat.

When you offer him the corpses of bandits, part of him yearns for it...

Although he ends up just stealing animal meat or something.

He... doesn't want to scare you.

In a strange way John cares for you and despises the idea of harming you.

He's less of a guard dog and more of a bodyguard since he lacks a feral demeanor.

Eventually you can make out basic responses in his rotting voice.

Things like 'Hi', 'Thanks', 'Yes', 'No'...

All very basic communication but it's something.

One time you could even make out a 'Sorry...' when he spooked you.

Many find it strange and odd you managed to tame a zombie.

John makes no effort to attack you, following you the best he can.

It's not like you need a lead or anything.

The one issue is horses...

You have to find a wagon or something to put on your horse in order to have John stick with you.

John's only ever hostile towards threats.

Other zombies, violent humans...

Survivors just trying to survive are spared by John.

You often look away when John attacks people....

He doesn't like eating people... but manages it because sometimes he has to.

You try desperately to ignore the sickening tearing and squelching noises made... along with the screaming....

John's mostly protective, yet he can be possessive too.

He hovers around you, 'watches' your every move...

He never wants to leave you.

You could easily get rid of him, yes.

But he's also your best weapon in this environment.

Having a clingy zombie is a small price to pay for safety, right?

For the most part, John is just overly protective.

He's possessive if people get too close.

Although... let's be honest... who's getting close to the person with the zombie following you around?

John's just about your only companion...

He'll be yours until you die... Even then, he'll still have you for as long as your body's still functioning after death.

[hyperfixatedonthisnow]

You Belong to Me

*Not my GIF

This is the first thing I’ve written in years but Shadow and Bone (and particularly Nikolai Lantsov!) is my new hyperfixation and I had the urge to write something, so here we are. Based on the prompt: “Mine.” “Say it again.” which I got from tumblr forever ago.

Summary: Reader is in an established relationship with Nikolai and they get jealous seeing someone else flirting with him so they decide to remind him who he belongs to. Turns out the King finds jealous/possessive reader a turn on, who would have guessed?

Word count: 2K

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. A tiny hint of a plot but really it’s just smut, hand job, jealousy/possessiveness, slight praise kink if you squint, reader can be any gender you like, I’ve left it deliberately vague for your reading pleasure :)

The grand ballroom was so full that you could barely move an inch without bumping into a visiting noble, courtier or ambassador of some sort. Musicians were playing at one end of the room and waiters flitted about with trays of champagne.

You scanned the crowd in an effort to locate the King. Your eyes found him finally near of the centre of the room, surrounded by young ladies and you sighed, because of course he was. You had only left Nikolai’s side for a few minutes, but that was all it took for the vultures to descend. You supposed you couldn’t really blame them, he was gorgeous. Intelligent and charming too. Wherever he went, people were drawn to him like moths to the proverbial flame. Your relationship with the King had started many years before, when he was just a wayward second son with little hope of ever inheriting the throne and though his circumstances had now changed, your love for each other remained stronger than ever. Nikolai could be a bit of a flirt, but you trusted him implicitly. You knew without a doubt that anyone trying to tempt him would fail. He would be going home with you, still that didn’t stop the surge of jealousy that burned uncomfortably in your stomach as you made your way across the room to join the group. Nikolai’s eyes lit up as he saw you approach and he reached for you immediately, wrapping his arm around your waist without even the slightest hint of hesitation. You watched with a perverse sense of satisfaction as obvious disappointment flitted over the faces of his companions and several of the ladies politely excused themselves, quickly losing interest now they knew for certain that the King was taken. The last young lady however, was not so easily deterred. She looked you up and down with barely concealed distaste as Nikolai made the formal introductions and then finally she offered you a saccharine smile - entirely for his benefit you assumed, since it was obvious that it pained her to do so. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said, smiling brightly. You would be nice if it killed you. It would only cause problems for Nikolai if you went around being rude to his guests, regardless of wether they deserved it or not. The other woman made no response, already turning her attention back to the King as if you hadn’t even spoken. Apparently she didn’t share your concerns about rudeness. Nikolai cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence, “Miss Antonova was just telling me about her home in Kerch.” “Oh yes,” Miss Antonova exclaimed, twirling a lock of her dark hair around her finger, “As I was saying, you must come for a visit, your highness. I know my father would be honored to host you.” “What a generous offer,” Nikolai smiled, “perhaps we may take you up on it someday.” The young woman beamed at him, pleased with his response. “We could make it one of the stops on our honeymoon,” you suggested, just to watch her face fall. “Absolutely not. I should not consider our honeymoon a success if we are to be fit for company at any point,” Nikolai grinned impishly and you shook your head fondly, a blush spreading across your cheeks at the implication. You could feel Miss Antonova glaring daggers at you. “Well, perhaps you could make the trip to Kerch on your own instead, moi tsar,” she simpered, batting her eyelashes at him, “I would be happy to volunteer as your personal guide.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "I bet you would,” you muttered quietly under your breath, though not quietly enough if Nikolai’s sudden coughing fit was any indicator. Miss Antinova moved closer to him, her face creased in concern, “Goodness, are you alright?” She asked, laying a hand on his arm. You glared at her, touching the King was in no way appropriate. Nikolai gave you a look, shaking his head minutely - a gesture you knew to mean leave it alone. So you bit your tongue even though you wanted to tell her off. “Yes, I’m quite well,” Nikolai assured her once he had recovered, “My apologies.” Despite his reassurance, and the heat of your still disapproving glare, she did not move away or remove her hand. Instead, she moved further into his personal space, close enough to be considered indecent in your opinion. Her delicate hand curled around his clothed bicep. You struggled to fix a polite smile on your face when in your head you were fantasizing about breaking her fingers one by one. “Oh my, you have very strong arms,” she gushed and this time you did roll your eyes. For Saints sake. Nikolai met your gaze over the top of her head and you saw amusement dancing in his eyes. “I work out from time to time,” he told her with a wink, “It’s important to keep my army training up to date.” Miss Antonova giggled girlishly, as if he had said something ridiculously funny, and you decided that was quite enough. “I’m sorry but you’ll have to excuse us,” you stated bluntly, “the King has an urgent, private matter to attend to immediately.” Rather than wait for a response, you turned and firmly grasping Nikolai’s hand, pulled him away and across the crowded room towards the door. Although he could easily have escaped your hold if he had wanted to, Nikolai followed you without complaint, allowing you to lead him out of the ballroom and through the Palace hallways as though he were a boy rather than the King. Entering his chambers you made sure to lock the door behind you and then you stalked towards him, forcing him backwards until his back hit the wall behind him. “Something wrong, my love?” He asked, an amused little smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. “The audacity of that woman,” you grumbled, “Mooning and flirting, and touching you! As if I wasn’t standing right there.” “Oh, I don’t know,” he mused, eyes sparkling with affectionate humor, “I thought she was just being friendly.” “Friendly? She was all over you!” you objected. “Maybe a little bit,” he conceded with a slight tilt of his head, his smirk widening. “But you know that I would never accept her advances, or anyone’s for that matter,” he insisted earnestly as he reached out to tuck a loose lock of hair behind your ear, “So what does it matter?” “I didn’t like it, Kolya,” you muttered irritably, yanking at the knot of his cravat in an effort to remove it and almost choking him in the process. “Really?” he chuckled, “I hadn’t noticed.” He batted your hands away so he could loosen the offending item himself, pulling it free of his collar and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt as he went. You narrowed your eyes at him. “It’s not funny.” He hummed in agreement as he dipped his head to kiss you, slow and sweet, just a soft brush of his lips over yours, but your were in no mood for romance. You nipped at his bottom lip impatiently, licking hot and demanding into his mouth when he opened up to you. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as you threaded your fingers through his hair, kissing him hungrily and sucking on his tongue before you surfaced for air. You kissed an open-mouthed line across his jaw and down his throat, pausing to nip and suck at his pulse point. “Ah. Not above the collar,” he reminded you gently. You huffed, pressing yourself tighter against him and wedging a knee between both of his so that your thigh was pressed against his crotch. He was already hard and knowing it was because of you - not her - tempered your jealousy a little. Nosing down into the collar of his shirt to reach the juncture of his shoulder, you sucked a stinging bruise into his skin. His hips bucked in response. You couldn’t help but smile as you admired your handiwork, a surge of possessiveness rolling through you. “Mine,” you murmured as you laved your tongue over the offending mark. Nikolai groaned low in his throat, rutting against you more insistently. “Say it again,” he gasped. His voice was rough with arousal and you lifted your head to regard him, surprised by his reaction. You felt a heady rush of power as you looked him over. His eyes were dark, his pupils dilated with lust. His lips were shiny and kiss–swollen and his face was flushed, a deep blush spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest. You had barely started and he was already wrecked. “You belong to me,” you purred in his ear, nuzzling at his throat as you reached a hand between you to stroke him through his pants. He made an involuntary keening sound, his eyes slipping closed as he pushed himself into your palm. “No one else gets to touch you like this, do they?” He shook his head frantically, hips straining towards you, desperately seeking more friction. You sighed, feigning disappointment. “I can’t hear you,” you chastised, “Use your words Kolya." “No,” he breathed, “only you.” “That’s right,” you agreed, smiling against his skin.

You rewarded him by freeing him from his pants and he moaned as you used the precum that had gathered at the head of his cock to slick your palm. He laid his forehead against yours, opening his eyes so that he could follow the movement of your hand as you jerked him in a firm, fast rhythm until he was panting. When you knew he was near his peak, you lifted your head to meet his eyes. “Mine,” you whispered possessively, a seductive smile on your lips. He shuddered, his head dropping to your shoulder and his hands tightening on your waist as he came with a soft cry, thick stands of cum covering your hand and the front of his shirt. He slumped against the wall, boneless in the aftermath of his orgasm. “Well,” he said breathlessly, “that was..,” “Intense? Incredible? Life changing?” you suggested helpfully, and he snorted a laugh. “I was going to say unexpected, but those work too.”

You brought your clean hand up to his throat, running your thumb over the dark bruises you had left just below the line of his collar. "I'm afraid I've made quite a mess," you said, "I'm sorry." And you were, now that the bitter sting of jealousy had faded and you had returned to your senses.

"Don't be. I don't know if you could tell but I rather liked it," Nikolai grinned, "and besides, I've made a mess of you too, so I'd say we're even."

"I suppose that's true," you agreed, bringing your hand up to your mouth. Your tongue snaked out to gently lap the remains of his release from your fingers and he groaned, scrubbing a shaky hand across his face. “You’re trying to kill me,” he accused and you laughed as you leaned in to kiss him. Nikolai pulled you in closer, deepening the kiss but keeping it sweet and unhurried.

"Give me a moment to recover and I'll repay the favour," he promised.