#< thoughts while learning how to cross stitch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-daydreams · 8 months

Text

Title: Needlework.

A grab-bag commission for the very lovely @pale-horse-writing.

Pairing: Yandere!OC x Reader.

Summary: Your long-term captor takes one more step towards making you his perfect little doll.

Word Count: 1.2k.

TW: Injury To Reader, Infantilization, Dollification, Feminization (Reader Dressed Femininely and Specifically NOT Cool With It), Implied Kidnapping, Unhealthy Relationships, and Non-Consensual Drug Use.

Every stitch took exactly fifteen seconds.

Two for the tip of the needle to pierce your skin, three more to find its exit-point, and ten for Dottie to pull the long, braided string through your punctured flesh. The final result was two perfectly symmetrical rows of neat, pinkish white ‘x’-es leading from the curve of your foot to the bottom of your knee, binding vinyl to skin and ensuring you wouldn’t be able to remove it without a great deal of trouble, without ruining your perfect white gloves and perfect white dress. The shoes themselves – because that was the point of this, as difficult as it was to remember, to make sure you couldn’t misbehave and remove your real punishment – were silver and well-polished, a pair that he'd just brought home a few days ago. There had been crossed strips of ribbon down the front at one point, but they’d been removed in favor of leaving that much more of your skin exposed, and in place of the dainty, delicate heels he usually preferred were thick platforms; about six inches tall and specially weighted to limit mobility. You couldn’t imagine where he’d gotten them. You couldn’t imagine how he’d gotten it into his head to use them for something like this.

Dottie brought the needle to your skin for the final stitch, the point sinking into your numb calf for the thousandth time. Despite everything, he wasn’t a sadist – the mask fitted over the lower half of your face and the canister it was attached to made sure you stayed limp, complacent, too strung-out to move or run or think as he worked. A few months ago, you would’ve protested, kicked and screamed and threw the kind of tantrum he’d have to calm with a hushed tone and a handful of sedatives, but you’d learned better, since then. He was going to do whatever he wanted to you, no matter how you reacted to it. The only thing you got to decide was how much it was going to hurt.

There was an airy chuckle, the sound of a thread being cut, then a fleeting kiss to the inside of your knee. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, peeling off his latex gloves and discarding them along with his bloody needle before turning his attention back to you, to your prone state. Your mask was removed, but your vision remained unfocused, the fog laying over your thoughts still thick as Dottie ran his fingertips over your cheek, rubbing out the lingering indents. Out of reflex, you leaned into his touch, eager to savor his gentleness before the numbness wore off and the ache let in, and your desperation was rewarded with a light hum, another kiss – the one to the top of your head. “You did beautifully.” You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “I couldn’t ask for a better model.”

You tried to speak, to respond with something halfway coherent, but your tongue was too heavy and your throat was filled with cotton and it was all you could do to open your mouth, to let out something you could only compare to a fractured whimper. There was a sympathetic coo, a new weight on the edge of the velvet-cushioned lounge-seat he used for your little ‘adjustments’. Carefully, with pains taken not to disturb the delicate bows tied into your hair, he draped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his chest. “I know, I know,” he muttered, squeezing you against him before detangling himself from you completely. “But it’s for the best. I knew what had to be done the second I saw what you were getting up to while I was gone.”

What you were getting up to. He must’ve meant breaking his unspoken rules – cooking for yourself, changing out of his meticulously chosen outfits, loosening the strings of the lung-flattening corsets he took minutes out of his schedule to bind you into. You weren’t supposed to do anything, not while he was gone, not if there was a chance you’d bruise yourself or tear the hem of one of his handmade petticoats. He would never say it aloud, but he wasn’t subtle. He wanted you to be something pretty, something useless, something that was doted on and adorned with proof of his misplaced love. You’d heard him admit, once, while he thought you were asleep, that if he had his way, you wouldn’t have to do so much as think for yourself, but thankfully, he hadn’t found an article of clothing that can accomplish that. Not yet, at least.

“This’ll keep you out of trouble while I’m away.” He positioned himself at your side, clapping his hands the way you would if you were trying to get a child’s attention. An animal’s attention. “Why don’t you try taking a step for me, sweetheart?”

Dread, fear, and shame coiled in the pit of your stomach. With more than a little reluctance, you swung your feet over the side of the chair, tears immediately welling up and blurring your vision further as the platforms strained Dottie’s stitching and sent a thousand stabbing, agonizing jolts racing up your legs. Standing was no easier, but you managed to push yourself to your feet, to ignore the way your legs screamed in protest long enough to lift your right foot and took a single, unsteady st—

Your knees buckled, your strength faltering, and then you were on the ground, legs bent into a crumbled heap and dress fanning out around you. Dottie was by your side in a moment, pulling you into his arms as you heard yourself start to sniffle, as you felt warm tears start to drip down your cheeks. “Poor thing.” The sentiment was empathetic, but his cadence was overjoyed, brimming with excitement. It was the same tone he used when he sat you down in front of a vanity, made you watch as he fastened yet another lace collar around your neck. It was the same voice he used when he was on top of you, wiping away your tears as he pretended to care about whether or not you were happy. “Like a puppet without its strings. That’s alright, though. You know I’ll always be here to repair you.”

You rested your cheek against his chest, shutting your eyes. “People don’t need to be repaired.”

“But you do.” One last kiss, this one to the corner of your lips. This time, you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend the affection made you feel much of anything at all. “And that’s why I have to look after you.”

He was taking you back to your bedroom, to the pink-soaked space filled to the point of bursting with soft blankets and stuffed animals and all the things he wanted you to want. You’d be left there until the numbing agent wore off, until the pain was more than you could take, and when you cried out for him and his distorted comfort, he’d take joy in doting on you, in reassuring himself that you were too helpless to take so much as a step without his help.

You could only hope that, whenever he decided you’d learned your lesson, his stitches would come out faster than they’d gone in.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabble #yandere oc #oc x reader #yandere oc x reader #yanderecore #yancore

512 notes · View notes

pr4ktical · 8 months

Text

Please

Notes - After what happened with Cole and Greta, Brahms was all alone. You were at a bar with your friends while playing truth or dare. You get dared to go to the Heelshire home, alone. You stay there for a while, meeting Malcolm after a day there. You meet a porcelain doll when Malcolm leaves, sitting next to it is a clipboard with a paper on it. Little did you know, that would get you a little date later on...

“No one will escape me like she did.” Brahms had thought to himself as he stitched up the porcelain doll from the awful beating it had been through after Cole smashing it. “ No one will ever slip from my grasp like that again.” Brahms said to himself again, pushing and pulling the string on the doll with much more rigor than before.

Due to the events of Greta escaping and his parents drowning themselves on their holiday, Brahms was all alone now. He didn’t know what to feel towards Greta. He became very attached to her, she was the first one to actually care for him. He shook it off and finished the porcelain doll.

At night, he couldn’t sleep. He kept rethinking the previous night, how he could’ve stopped Greta. He regretted everything else besides killing Cole and drugging Malcolm. Oh, did I forget to mention that? Yeah, previously as Greta was escaping… actually you know what let's just go back to that night.

“Get back here.” Brahms growled, slowly moving towards Greta. “Don’t leave me.” He started crawling closer to her as she finally got the hatch open. As she started to flee, behind her she heard pounding. He was getting closer.. “You get back here!” Brahms had screamed at her as she fled out into the woods. As she was running she heard his voice behind her again, “If you leave I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him just like the others!” As she fled, Brahms crawled back into the room where Malcolm was. He pulled out something from his jean pocket, two pills. Malcolm was in and out of consciousness, he could see Brahms holding something in his hand. The next moment Brahms’ hand was close to his mouth, shoving the pills in his mouth and forcing him to swallow them. These pills were no ordinary pills, it had the possibility of making someone forget about the event that happened prior to taking it. Even though Brahms had been stuck in the walls since he was a kid, he learned what an average person learned on the daily. He knew about a lot of things, he was far from stupid.

Malcolm showed up many times still, bringing groceries to the house even though he could never find Greta. He thought that was odd, but shrugged it off and left the groceries on the front step. Every time he brought them, the previous order always disappeared so he thought that Greta was avoiding him for some reason.

It was a friday night, you and some friends had gone out onto the town. You weren’t drunk, though some of the others were a bit. You ended up in a bar, and somehow got roped into truth or dare. You and your friends had rules, you always had to tell the truth and you always had to do the dares. It was your friend, Tracy’s turn. She looked around at her options at the table and landed on you. At first she whispered to a couple friends around her, then turned back to you while smiling, wickedly. “Truth or dare?” she asked, crossing her arms in front of you. You obviously knew that she had something in store for you either way, but you didn’t wanna seem like a pussy so you went for it. “Dare.” you stared back at her, mocking her as you crossed your arms just like she did. She whispered to the friends around her again, then turned back to you again, “You have to move out of the apartment.” She smiled at you. ‘ God dammit.’ you had thought to yourself. You knew you hated her, you knew that she was obviously a fake friend but you still stuck with her. “What kind of dare is that Tracy?” You stood up and slammed your hands on the table. “Well, I mean you haven’t really been hitting the payment mark lately sooo…” Her boyfriend, Tony had added in. You turned to Tony, “Shut up, I’m not talking to you Tony.” You turned back to Tracy, “Where am I supposed to live?” You sat back down, crossing your arms. “Well, you could always go back to America!” She laughed, and soon everyone else was laughing. You couldn’t go back to America, You couldn’t go back. You had gotten a once in a lifetime opportunity here! “I mean.. You could always try to live in that abandoned mansion up the road..It’s free.” Tony said, interrupting your thoughts. You always had a bad feeling about that house, you had heard rumors about it being haunted, or how some nanny had escaped from an insane man who lived in the walls or something. You never really believed the rumor, you were desperate so you agreed. “Whatever.. But I need a ride there.”

You had arrived at the mansion with Tony, Tracy, and 4 other friends. You got out of the car, looking up to the top of the mansion, then back down. You turned around, thinking about your stuff back at the apartment. “Wait I need my-” you got cut off by the sound of the car speeding off and laughter. You rolled your eyes, ‘Fuck.. what am I gonna do now?? I’m gonna starve!’ you thought to yourself. You were only staying in Britain for the time being, you were here for a job position that you couldn’t have gotten back in the states.. You snapped yourself out of your own thoughts and headed for the door. You twisted the knob, and with no luck, it was locked. Of course it was locked, how stupid were you? You looked around the mansion, seeing that one of the windows was slightly open. You went over and climbed in.

Brahms had heard a big thud downstairs. After what happened a week prior and his big rule, ‘no guests allowed’ he was very curious, yet furious that someone dare come into his home uninvited. He quickly, yet quietly headed from his room to downstairs where you were. “Ugh, fuck that hurt.” You said, standing up from your fall and brushing yourself off. Brahms saw you and basically fell in love. He looked you up and down, you were wearing a white, cropped long sleeve shirt with a leather jacket on top of it, with tight, low rise flared jeans on. He loved the way that your jeans and shirt had hugged your figure perfectly.

You looked around, walking forward deeper into the house. “Fuck, this place is so eerie, yet… yet very pretty.” You walked around, exploring the whole place. You stumbled upon the kitchen, you looked around. ‘...is… is this fresh food…?’ You thought to yourself, rummaging around. You explored the house more, going upstairs and finding three different bedrooms. One seemed to be an older couples, as the sheets and clothes seemed like what an older couple would have. The second one just looked to be a guest bedroom, but the third one… ugh the third one gave you the creeps. It seemed to be a young child’s bedroom, you thought you saw a doll, but you shrugged it off. Once you were satisfied with your exploring, you felt yourself getting more drowsy. You headed to the guest bedroom and fell asleep.

You woke up to the beautiful sunshine shining down on you. Little did you know, someone else was watching you wake up. You stretched and flipped the sheets off your body. You rolled your eyes, forgetting where you were for a minute. You passed the child's room, seeing the door was cracked. You got freaked out, big time. You could’ve sworn you had closed it, but shrugged it off as it had been a long night. You walked downstairs and looked at the food in the kitchen, finding that all of this is fairly new. ‘Does someone actually live here? Oh fuck, what if they find out I’m here.. What do I do-’ Before you could go one with your rapid thoughts, you heard a knock at the door. You wanted to pass out at that moment. You made your way to the window, peeking out from the shades and seeing a fairly handsome man at the door holding… groceries? As he seemed to be walking away, you quickly walked to the door and opened it. He thought he heard something, glancing back to see you, then turning all the way back around. You got quickly frightened by this and started backing away and closing the door. “O-Wait!” The man had said to you, walking towards you. “Who- I mean, ahem.. Hi, names Malcolm, uh nice to meet you.” He had said, sticking his hand out for you to shake it. “H-Hi?” You said, slowly shaking his hand. “I don’t want this to come off in a weird way but uh, w-who are you?” He lowered his hand down, awkwardly smiling. “Oh- um.. I’m…y/n.. Does uh- do you live here or something, I’m sorry I-” You started to ramble, “No! I don’t live here, but what are you doing here?” He had asked you. You opened the door more, gesturing to him to come inside. He had grabbed the groceries and walked in. You tell Malcolm how you got into this situation. "Oh, I'm sorry those people sound like dicks. Well, I'm here because there was a family here named the Heelshires-" He had gone on about Brahms, the Heelshires, and Greta. You had been a little shocked, going back to that rumor about the nanny running away from an insane man but you didn’t know what to believe.

You and Malcolm had a lovely conversation for a while, but Brahms had been watching, and getting jealous. He saw the way you laughed and blushed around Malcolm, you had only met him for this long. How could you have fallen in love already? Two times with two different people in his home. He got angry at himself for not killing him on the spot when Greta escaped. He went back to his room and tried to calm himself down.

“Do you have to go?” You whined out, blushing as you watched Malcolm leave. “Sorry dear, I have to get back to the shop” He stopped and stretched, “Gotta get more orders in.” He smiled and winked at you. You saw him get back into his car, you waved to him as you closed the door. You felt a crush coming on, you cursed yourself, you’ve only known him for a few hours! You couldn't have. You shook it off, heading back upstairs. You stopped in your tracks before you could get to your room. The third room's door was wide open now. You knew for sure you didn’t touch it earlier, and Malcolm was downstairs the whole time. You felt your skin crawl, but you being the curious cat you are, you slowly walked towards the door. You peeked in and saw a porcelain doll sitting there and facing the door with something next to it. You wanted to run as far and fast as you could at that moment, but ended up walking into the room. The doll was quite beautiful, you ran your finger along the cheek. You looked next to it, it was a list. Of what? Rules.

Brahms had specific rules that he needed. You felt some sort of obligation to do these rules, or something would happen. You checked the time on your watch, 5:30 pm. You grabbed the doll and headed down to the kitchen, putting it on the counter and making food for the both of you. The whole situation felt off to you. You sat and ate the sandwich you made. Now it was time for bedtime. You grabbed the doll and headed upstairs, you dressed it in its pj’s and tucked it in. You forgot about one specific rule, “10. Kiss Goodnight.” and boy did Brahms make you remember it.

Brahms was waiting and watching for the pretty girl to come back and kiss the doll. That was always his favorite time during bedtime, so when you didn’t he felt very hurt but furious that you didn’t follow the rules. He watched as you went to bed, he slammed his hands on the walls and stomped around. He removed the barrier from his closet so that he could get the doll. He grabbed it and placed it right next to your door. He knocked as loud as he could, “Y/N…” he said in his childlike voice.

You woke up in a cold sweat, hearing a child's voice from beyond the door. ‘What the fuck, what the fuck!’ you thought to yourself, clutching your chest. “Y/N, please come out.” You heard, you shook your head and pulled the blanket up to your chest. You whispered to yourself, “Just a dream, just a dream…” You closed your eyes and calmed down.

Brahms became more irritated that you didn’t come out. He stomped his foot, grabbed the doll and angrily put it in the bed again. He went to his room again, not closing the barrier all the way.

You got up, and used the phone in the room. You called Malcolm, “pick up, pick up, pick up..” You heard a click on the other side, “Hello?” Malcolm said. “Oh my god, thank fuck.. Is there any chance that Brahms could be alive?” You asked, still staring at the door. “What? Have you-” You interrupted him, “I know, I know it’s stupid but really, but what about Greta? Why does the doll move and talk?” You told him, obviously very paranoid. “Well.. come to think of it there has been many speculations of him still being alive. I happen to think that as well. When Greta escaped, something or perhaps.. Someone was taking the groceries in.” He said, you started to freak out. “Thanks Malcolm, gotta go bye!” You hung up, walking towards your door. You opened it and peeked down, nothing was there. You walked to the dolls room, you felt some sort of way about this situation but you couldn’t quite place it. You being a sick fuck, kinda found this whole thing hot. You wanted to test the limits, if there really was a person living here there was only one way to find out.

You tucked in Brahms again and gave him a kiss. You closed the door and prepared yourself for this. You thought about Greta, her escaping and how he went insane over this. You pretended to grab your things and opened the door. To your luck, you were met with large footsteps behind you.

You saw a long arm reach around you, keeping the door shut. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. This is who everyone is scared of, you are facing him right now. You turn around and are met with a porcelain mask, matching the doll's face. You looked at him, noticing every single feature about him. How his dark, curly brown hair had draped over the mask, how the tanktop he was wearing showed his chest, and how his body was very tense. For living in the walls for this long, he seemed like he showered and he had maintained his hair. “Don’t leave me y/n.. Please, I'll be a good boy.” You heard him whine, he didn’t have a childlike voice anymore. It was deep, piercing your core. You had built the courage to say, “Show me.” He was fairly surprised at your gestures, but he gladly did. He picked you up and slung you over his shoulder. He walked up the stairs to the guest room and threw you on the bed. He was so excited, ever since the very moment you stumbled in his home, he knew he didn’t just want you, he needed you.

You took your jacket off and threw it to the ground. Brahms took off his cardigan and shirt then grabbed your face, leaning in for a kiss as he towered over you. You put a finger up to the lips on the mask. He opened his eyes, whining at you. “Brahms, I can’t kiss you with a mask on..” You said, looking at the lips then back into his eyes. He nodded, lifting the mask ever so slightly so that his lips were out. You could see the scars from his jawline, up but shook it off and grabbed his face and kissed him harshly. You could tell he has been waiting for this. The kiss quickly became heated, his hands wrapped around the back of your head as he pushed you deeper into the kiss. You could feel the raging erection from his jeans, threatening to bust open. He was the one to pull away, both of you gasping for air. He pulled down the mask again, covering his lips. You could tell that he was going feral, and you were too.

“Touch me Brahms, please .” You whimpered into his ear, leaning back onto the bed and spreading your legs for him. He smiled and ripped off your jeans and your panties at the same time. You felt your hips buck, feeling the cold air blow on your naked cunt. Brahms noticed this, and took notes. He crouched down and blew onto your pussy, seeing you buck up and moan louder for him. He reached a hand to you, rubbing your clit in circles. “Mm! Please Brahms..” You cried out, gripping onto the sheets. "Cover your face for me, baby." He demanded softly, and you did. Covering your eyes with your forearm, he took off his mask fully, pressing his tongue flatly to your clit. He slowly started moving his tongue up and down, then quickly shoving a slender finger in your pussy. You screamed out, feeling yourself get light headed. He hooked his arms under your legs to hold you in place. He flicked his tongue up and down faster now, moving his side to side as fast as he could. You said his name over and over again like you were brainwashed. He shoved two fingers into your warmth, pumping them up and down as he ate you out like a starving man. You moved your hips along with him, feeling yourself getting closer and closer. “Brahms, s-such a g-good boy..” You choked out, reaching down to his head and pushing him deeper into your pussy. You feel your legs start to shake violently. “Mghm B-Brahms! I- I’m cumming!” He pulled off, fixing his mask. He scooped up your cum with two fingers and sat you up. “Open.” He put his fingers to your lips. You opened your mouth, looking up at him and sucking your mess off his fingers.

You took off your shirt and bra, and he took off his jeans and boxers, Both of you completely naked now. You could see his raging hard on much better now. You stood up and pointed for him to lay on the bed. He listened, laying down vertically. You climbed on top of him, face stopping at his cock. You smiled, then licked from base, to tip. His moans were intoxicating, you could tell he was very touch deprived. He melted into your touch as you stroked his cock. “Such a good boy, Brahmsy.” You said, feeling his hips buck into your hand. This man could kill someone, and yet he fell into your hands like putty. You smiled, putting his tip in your mouth. You swirled and sucked on it, looking up at him. You could see his neck getting bright red, if only you could see what he looked like under the damn mask.. He reached a hand to your hair, guiding along with your now bobbing head. After a while you pulled off and climbed on top of him. You smiled and lined up his cock with your cunt. He looked up at you with lust covered eyes, begging for it. You finally sank down and bottomed out, moaning into his ear. He propped himself up as he was still in you. You finally started moving, getting faster. He put his hands on your hips, guiding you.

“Y/N… you feel so, so good..” He moaned, looking from your face, to his and your skin slapping against each other. Riding him up and down, you loved the way he looked up at you. When you finally got weak, he wrapped his arms around your waist and started to pound into you. “Please Brahms!” You moaned into his ear, digging your fingernails into his back. He loved the way you made your marks on him. He latched onto your neck and started sucking, going farther down to your nips. You never really got used to his size, and he knew that. That made him go crazy. He loved the way your tight cunt stretched over his big cock. He pulled out, knowing you both were close.

He took the upper hand, moving you under him, and lifting your legs up. He smiled, he loved seeing your face contort as he pleasured you. He slammed his hips into you, not letting you get used to his size again. “Am I being a good boy for you, y/n?” He whined. Before you could answer, he pounded into you much faster. “Y-yes baby… you're such a good boy for me!” You moaned out, grasping onto his shoulders as you looked up to him, teary eyed but smiling. He made you hold your legs open still, as he reached a hand down to your clit and the other hand playing with your nipples. You felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Your legs started to shake, warning you. You could tell he was close too. He put his forehead on yours, then you looked down with furrowed brows and mouth agape, then back up. “Please, please, please! Mmm!” You moaned out, pulling his hair. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, please Brahms, please!” You looked up at him. He quickened his hip pace, as well as he rubbed your clit quicker. “Mmm! I’m cumming!” You screamed out, as your back arched and your eyes rolled back into your head. Your whole body started to come down with a shaking orgasm. As Brahms fucked you through your orgasm, the sight of your body shaking made him get even closer. Brahms whined as he felt your tight pussy tighten around him even more, milking him for what he was worth. He came all over in your pussy, feeling his own legs shake against him. You both fell limp in the bed, smiling at eachother.

Brahms finally pulled out, you whimpered at the feeling of not being full anymore. You smiled at him as he laid next to you. You kissed him on the forehead, “So.. you’ll stay?” He asked, looking down. “I wasn’t gonna leave in the first place. But you have to promise to not hide anymore. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry baby.” You smile, cupping the mask in your hand. Brahms smiled, he finally had someone.

#smut #brahms #brahms the boy #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire smut #brahms heelshire #the boy #horror films #horror #the boy smut #smut with plot

564 notes · View notes

rabbitsrams · 7 months

Text

meeting ted and schlatt at a halloween party (and eventually hooking up with them)

college! au & fem! reader

happy spooky month yall :)

nsfw under the cut, minors dni, 18+ only.

♡ you were invited to a house party by a friend

♡ it was a costume party (as you expected) and you decided to go as [your costume].

♡ you didn't really know anyone at the party other than your friend

♡ you recognized some people from your classes and people you saw often around campus and they were all in costume

♡ everyone looked super cool in their costumes, but there were two people who caught your eye.

♡ one of them had a frankenstein costume. completely decked out.

♡ green face paint, fake stitches all over his face and body, electrical bolts sticking out of his neck, ripped and tattered clothes, and he was really tall too.

♡ the other was wearing a knight costume.

♡ unlike frankenstein, the knight put absolutely no effort into it.

♡ his knight's helmet was barely painted blue, he's wearing a white shirt with a light blue cross in the middle and gray sleeves, he's holding a cheap plastic sword and a little ram plush is sitting on his shoulder

♡ but what draws you to him (besides the total lack of effort) was how good he looked under the helmet. also him being super tall. and constantly hanging around frankenstein.

♡ you can't stop staring at them throughout the night. and your friend notices.

♡ "just talk to them!"

♡ "i can't!"

♡ but right as you're lamenting, they come into the living room to get another drink.

♡ and your friend asks you to get them another. which you know is a ruse, but you go anyway.

♡ frankenstein is chattering excitedly while the knight is pouring himself some beer from the keg.

♡ god they're even cuter up close.

♡ you grab a couple of red cups and go to pour some beer but the lever thing is a bit too hard to grab with both cups in your hand

♡ "here, i can give you a hand." it's the knight. you nod and step aside. he pours beer into your cup. you turn around and see your friend left their spot.

♡ the knight asks if you want another and you tell him no since your friend just ditched you.

♡ "that's okay, you can hang out with us." frankenstein comes up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. you feel your face heat up as you turn to face him.

♡ you learn their names as you all go into one of the bedrooms for some privacy. frankenstein is ted and the knight is schlatt.

♡ they compliment your costume and you do the same, except you're not really sure if schlatt even is a knight.

♡ "who are you supposed to be?"

♡ "the ice knight from castle crashers!"

♡ "ohhhh..."

♡ you text your friend quickly that you're alone with the guys and they text back really excitedly :)

♡ you talk for a little bit but you all know you're not there to talk.

♡ they noticed you the moment you came in

♡ thought you were so sexy in your costume

♡ they both wanted you and agreed to try and get with you (with your consent ofc)

♡ you're sitting in the middle of them on the bed. you're waiting for one of them to make a move. they don't, so you eventually just tell them that you want them both.

♡ them scrambling to get you first. schlatt tosses his knight helmet aside and kisses you while ted struggles to take the fake electric bolts out lol

♡ he kisses you as if you're the princess he just rescued. really rough and passionate and his hands are all over your body

♡ ted on the other hand is a bit more gentle. holds your face and brings you onto his lap as he kisses u!!!!!

♡ smears of green makeup cover your face once you pull away from him but you don't even care.

♡ you immediately go to kiss schlatt again so he has some of the makeup on him too hehe

♡ and since ted basically covered anywhere that was visible with the paint...

♡ green handprints all over your body :) and smudges of the paint all over schlatt's :)

♡ them taking your costume off at the same time (or trying to)

♡ schlatt being completely fixated by your tits. his hands are ALL OVER THEM

♡ even when ted wants to touch them schlatt pushes him away so he can keep touching them hehe (and eventually kissing and sucking on them......)

♡ so ted opts to focus on your pussy.

♡ he rubs your clit with his fingers and licks up your folds and you're whimpering under him

♡ and yes your pussy has green makeup all over it too

♡ you're begging them to fuck you

♡ riding schlatt while ted fucks you from behind GRRSKMSDNJFDKFJ 💥💳💥💳

♡ literally the only reason why schlatt wanted u to ride him was so he could watch your tits bounce i'm so serious

♡ genuinely one of the best hookups you had ever

♡ getting their numbers before you part ways bc you have to do that again

#jschlatt x reader #ted nivison x reader #jschlatt smut #ted nivison smut #jschlatt fic #jschlatt imagine #jschlatt fanfic #ted nivison fanfic #ted nivison fanfiction #ted nivison imagine #schlatt smut #schlatt x reader #ted nivison x y/n #ted nivison x you

316 notes · View notes

suyacho · 3 months

Text

midnight love ft. kakucho

when a knock on your door at midnight leads to you taking care of your ex

content warnings: minors/ageless blogs dni - gn!reader - ex!bf kakucho - blood & wounds mentions, reader patches kakucho up (i’m no pro) - soft to sexual tension ig - cursing - fight mentions - 1,7k words

i thought a had a writer’s block and then this happened, plus it was supposed to focused more on the sexual tension but i just wanna post this LMAOO

Quiet nights with the sound of rain pouring while you caught up with your favorite manga was all you ever needed to be at peace. Yet something was missing, someone was missing and the fact that you were reading romance didn’t help the lonely feeling.

Months had passed since you and Kakucho broke things off, still he lingered on your mind. How could you ever forget him when he meant so much to you? The dates, the late nights, the sex, the cooking together, the chaotic days and most importantly, the way he loved.

Why did you two let some silly arguments and stressful moments ruin the beautiful thing you once had?

A sigh left your lips as you closed your manga, tears welling up in your eyes as you got up. “I should sleep.” you mumbled to yourself at checking the time, how was it 01:32 already?

You made your way into your once shared bedroom, freezing in your steps once you heard a knock on the door when you were about to flick the lights on. Nervously swallowing a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

It’s okay, I’ll just pretend I’m asleep, you thought to yourself, goosebumps running up your spine. Who in his right mind would be knocking at your door at this time?

Once again one more knock was heard and you swallowed yet another breath, grabbing scissors from your desk and clutching onto your phone. Slowly making your way over to the door, making sure to not make a single sound.

“Please be home.” A voice mumbled quietly from the other side, too quiet for you to identify who it was. Your hands were shaking as you looked through the peephole, dropping both the scissors and your phone once you noticed who the person knocking was.

What the actual fuck? Talk about coincidence.

You watched as the person was about to knock once more, speaking up before he could. “What do you want, Kakucho?” you sighed, the man you had been thinking about, drenched and covered in blood, standing in front of your door.

Relief almost immediately washed over Kakucho as he heard your voice, letting his hand fall down, his other hand putting pressure onto presumably a wound. “I’m so sorry, I know this is asking too much but could you please let me in?”

Hesitantly you opened the door, moving aside so he could make his way in. He sounded desperate so he must’ve had a proper reason to come here.

“Why are you here?” you questioned bluntly, crossing your arms as you looked at him, noticing how exhausted he looked.

“I got fucked up in a fight nearby and this was the closest place that I could think of.” Kakucho answers, letting out the small fact that it was because this was the one place that felt like home, something he already lost once before. Your once shared apartment was also the one place where he felt safe.

“Go to the bathroom and wait for me.” you sighed, not daring to look him in the eyes as you went and grabbed the emergency kit, something that you purchased pretty quickly into you guys dating.

“They really fucked you up.” you chuckled, grabbing everything you need, having learned how to treat proper wounds, even going as far as knowing how to do basic stitches. “Thanks for pointing out the obvious.” he laughed, ending quickly as he winced in pain.

The way he winced made you worry considering he wasn’t in pain easily. “Go rinse off and call me when you’re done.” you told him after turning the shower on, making your way out of the bathroom, only to be stopped by him.

“Hey, thank you.” he smiled, sincerity lingered in his tone and you just nodded, pulling your hand away, ignoring the burning feeling the touch made you feel, tension rising in the air, oh how you had missed his touch.

Just what was going on? Who in their right mind would let their ex come in but then again, were you supposed to leave him like that? A deep sigh left your lips as you massage your temples, your feelings being all over the place.

Without overthinking it more, you walked over into the guestroom aka the place you stored all his stuff he left at yours. You grabbed a clean set of clothes and a towel before walking towards the bathroom again.

“I’m coming in.” you warned him after knocking, making your way into the bathroom, your eyes falling on the necklace and ring, one you got for him and the other was something you two bought matching. Why was he still wearing those?

“Thank you, l-” Kakucho stopped himself before he let the nickname slip, glancing over at you with those loving eyes, a smile plastered on his face. One you didn’t notice because you didn’t dare to look up.

You didn’t say anything as you put the clothes down, fighting back the urge to check him out. It wasn’t something you hadn’t seen before, it was a view alright, but you couldn’t do it. Not when you were in this situation, no matter how you missed seeing him like that because you knew your thoughts would only go further, thinking about his body and the times you spent together in the shower.

Just as you were about to walk out, you were once again stopped by a hand, this one a wet and warm one, making your heart skip a bit. “I’m done.” Kakucho taunted, a playful tone lingered in his tone and you could swear you felt him smirking.

“Then get dried up.” you mumbled, throwing the towel at him, the room growing warmer and the air getting thicker with each passing second. You shouldn't feel like this, not with your ex. He's an ex for a reason.

“Alright, sorry– I’m done.” Kakucho told you, sitting on the counter with just a towel wrapped around him. “This might sting.” you mumbled, putting the rubbing alcohol on a cotton pad and turning around, being taken aback in from the view. He was so fine, he always had been.

You swallowed a breath as you moved closer to him, starting with disinfecting the wounds on his hands. Carefully cleaning it up as you held his big hand, the big hand that used to fit perfectly in yours, the one that always touched you all over and knew all the right spots. “I think that should be good now, right?” Kakucho asked as you tapped the cotton pad on a clean spot, chuckling lightly.

“Oh– sorry.” you mumbled, putting it aside as you grabbed a bandage, wrapping it around his hand gently. Kakucho watched you with every move, how gentle you were with him like he was the most fragile thing ever, the sweet touches with care, the ones that only made him fall for you deeper.

A silence fell as you did the same to his arms, it was a perfect balance between peaceful and awkward and his eyes were still glued on you. However, something was much more different compared to the moment he stepped into your apartment, both in the tension and in you two as individuals, it was like you were unintentionally yearning for each other.

“Hey…” Kakucho started, making you pause in your movements and look him in the eyes for the first time tonight, making you realize how close you actually were to one another as your heart skipped a beat.

“Yes..?” Hesitation was vibrant in your voice as you caught yourself staring at his lips and then back at his eyes, missing the way he would kiss you or place kisses all over your body.

Kakucho didn’t say anything yet he moved closer to you, your lips being centimeters away to the point where you could feel his breath ghosting over yours.

The rational part in you was screaming at you, telling you to pull back and just focus on patching up. The other part was somehow yearning for his touch, like your body was moving on its own.

You shook your head, taking a few steps back as you gave him a bittersweet smile. “We shouldn’t do this, Kakucho.”

Kakucho, no longer Kaku or love, something he’d wished was different.

“Yeah, you’re right, sorry.” he apologized and you shrugged it off, cleaning up the supplies hurriedly. “Are you not fixing this one?” Kakucho asked awkwardly, moving back a bit so you could see it better.

It was the worst wound yet somehow you wanted it to be over. The way the towel was wrapped around his hips, just enough to hide it but still show his v-line and happy trail, it was almost like he did it on purpose.

“This might sting a little.” you warned him again, disinfecting the wound on his lower abdomen, Kakucho groaning slightly at the feeling, trying to keep his mind from wandering further as you touched him close to where he wanted you to.

Kakucho was way too quiet compared to earlier but you didn’t say anything as you wrapped the bandage around it. Your hand ghosted right over the towel and you could swear you felt him tense up.

“All done.” you smiled proudly, fixing up the last thing and looking him in the eyes once again, knowing those dark eyes better than anyone.

“Are you sure..? Don’t you need to check a little further down.” Kakucho questioned, having you closer to him with one swift move as you let out a shaky breath.

“Kaku..” you mumbled, praying he didn’t hear your heart beating like crazy or notice the way you’ve been rubbing your legs together the past few minutes.

Although Kakucho knew you better than anyone and noticed it before you even realized. “Sorry, you can curse me all you want later.” he apologized, his hands now being on your sides.

This wasn’t like him but it had been too long, too long since he last was with you. On top of that, he had so much pent up sexual frustration considering Kakucho didn’t sleep with anyone else, even if months had passed, his heart belonged to you, the one he let get away.

“Please…” you mumbled, moving his hand down while one of yours was placed on his chest. You didn’t say more, your body language told him all he needed to know and frankly, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold back.

Maybe he should thank those guys for beating him up.

#kakucho x reader #kakucho #tokyo revengers kakucho #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #snow writes; fluff

214 notes · View notes

redstarwriting · 10 months

Text

partners

hobie brown x reader

request?: yes

request: “Hello! Sorry if this request is really long ;-; okay so hobie and the reader are new recruits to the spider society and are partnered together at first was difficult to get along but as time goes on and they get the whole partner thing down an obvious attraction between the two, but no action was made until one difficult fight against an anomaly. While fighting pieces of a broken building had fallen on the reader, leaving them stuck while hobie went over to try and get them free but was struck by anomaly and the reader hated seeing hobie get hurt used all their strength got out from under the rubble and took care of the anomaly and realized that they could no longer stand idly by without telling hobie the truth. I'm sorry about the length and thank you if you chose to write it 🫡🙏 love your work !!”

requested by: anon

word count: 2.7k

genre: angst(ish), fluff

Warnings: language, stab wound, broken ribs, panicked Hobie, mentions of blood, mentions of severe injuries, stitches, mentions of needles

A/N: ok so i got a little carried away with this one LMAO and NEVER apologize for a request being long! I appreciate all the requests i get no matter how short or long they are 🖤 please enjoy!

───────────────────────────────────

Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.

And unfortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.

The reasoning was because he didn’t trust Hobie to do any of his Spider Society duties — at least not in a smart way — and you were very… meticulous. You had a way you did things and didn’t like when your way was compromised. It helped that the two of you were the same age, so Miguel’s dad side popped out and figured the two of you could influence each other.

The first time the two of you went on a mission together, that was far from the truth.

Walking back into Spider Society, you would have thought the two of you didn’t complete the mission. You did, obviously, but the two of you literally looked like your asses got beat. Because you did. “What… happened?” Miguel asks, honestly a little concerned and shocked at the state of you two. “What ‘appened is ‘at I work alone, but you insisted I work with this bloody fuckwit.”

“I TOLD YOU A PLAN AND YOU SAID ‘Yeah, sure, mate, but I’m doin’ what I want’ AND THEN ALMOST DIED YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKING DUMBASS!” you yell and he rolls his eyes. “Well, ‘ave you ever considered your plan was shit, mate?”

“No! Because it wasn’t!”

“Yes! It was!”

“It was better than your fucking plan of jumping in and just winging it!”

“That’s rubbish! I—”

“Would the both of you stop?!” Miguel yells, and the two of you glare at each other before looking at him. “Hobie, listen to them next time. (Y/n), don’t be afraid to let some things be improvised.”

“Next time?” Hobie nearly screams, and Miguel nods. “The two of you are partners. You’re a team. It’s time to act like it,” Miguel says, and the two of you groan. “I don’t ‘ave to do anythin’ you say, asshole,” Hobie says to Miguel, and he frowns. “You both need to learn how to work with others.” “But we’re Spider-People! We’re supposed to work alone,” you say, and he shakes his head. “No. The two of you are partners. Learn to work together.”

From that point on, the two of you exclusively went on missions together. And you slowly started to learn how to work together. To the point where the two of you were nearly unstoppable. Miguel’s plan worked, Hobie learned some structure, and you learned to be a little more flippant in your decisions. To say he was a proud spiderdad was an understatement. He bragged about it to Peter and Jessica any chance he could get. Something he didn’t expect was the unwillingness from the two of you to then stop being partners. “You’re mental if you think ‘m not gonna keep workin’ with ‘em. Dumbass’ll die,” Hobie crosses his arms. “How to you expect him to survive if I’m not there to tell him what to do?” you roll your eyes.

Miguel was confused, but he didn’t hate the pair-up. So, he said fine and continued treating you two as a partner unit.

It was only later on that he realized why the two of you refused to stop working together. And it was thanks to Pavitr that he found out. “Miguel!” Pavitr yells, running over to him. “Yes, Pavitr?”

“How did you know?”

“How did I know what?” Miguel asks, already exasperated with the conversation. “About (Y/n) and Hobie!” Pav says, and Miguel raises an eyebrow at him. “What about them?”

“That they’re so obviously head over heels for each other! That’s why you paired them up, right?” he says excitedly, and Miguel just stares at him. “No.”

“Oh… well, forget I said anything, then. You had me worried there for a second, bro. I thought you could read people better than I could, and I couldn’t have that,” he trails off as he starts webbing away. Now that Miguel thinks about it, you and Hobie did have some sort of gravitational pull toward each other. He noticed that even when the two of you weren’t working together on a mission, you were constantly near each other. Even when the rest of the problem children weren’t around. And he never did quite see Hobie smile at anyone else the way he smiles around you. And you did tend to stare at Hobie for seemingly no reason. Damn. Guess pairing you two up was a good idea for multiple different reasons. Now he wasn’t just a proud spiderdad of the two of you, but of himself as well. “Good job, Miguel,” he nods, talking to himself.

However, while it was obvious for everyone, including the two of you, there was never anything pursued. No one could really understand why the two of you haven’t just been honest with each other, honestly. It was obvious to everyone the two of you cared more about each other than anyone else in the multiverse, but the two of you just continued saying you were merely friends and that there was no special relationship between the two of you. Which was a blatant lie, even to the two of you, but it continued to be the story told.

Until this latest mission.

The two of you were tasked with capturing an anomaly in your world. Of course, you were the only one told about it, but Hobie showed up anyways. It ended up being a Doc Ock variant, easy enough, but this specific one was tough. His arms were stronger and more technologically developed than others. Not to mention his annoying willpower to not give up. “Right, what’s the plan, then, love?” Hobie asks, and you frown. “We need to find a weak spot in his arms,” you say, and Hobie tuts. “And ‘ow are we gonna do ‘at?”

“Guess we’ll have to improvise,” you shrug, and he smiles at you. “‘ave I ever told ya I love it when it’s clear I’ve rubbed off on ya?”

“All the time, Hobie. Now, let’s go catch ourselves an octopus,” you say, and the both of you start fighting. And he was indeed harder to beat than the both of you expected. And it quickly becomes apparent to this Octavius that the two of you have feelings for each other with how often Hobie is trying to protect you, and how often you’re trying to protect Hobie. So, he figures it would be easier to take one down and distract the other long enough to take the other down. And that’s how you get thrown into the side of a building with so much force that it collapses around you.

Hobie, of course, immediately panics. He rushes over to you, frantically digging through the rubble. He sounds the most panicked you’ve ever heard him “(Y/N)? LOVE CAN YOU ‘EAR ME?!” You cough, yelling out a quick yes before trying to push as much of the rubble as he possibly can off of you. He manages to free enough of the rocks that he can see you, and you can see him. “‘m gonna get you out of there, love,” he mumbles, and you shake your head. “Deal with him first, I’ll be fi—”

“No.” Hobie doesn’t leave any room for arguments, continuing to throw rubble around to try and get you out. Unfortunately, he’s too focused on you and the worry that you might get severely injured to notice the mechanical arm about to smash into him until it’s too late. You scream his name as he gets struck, and flies into another building with a thud. He hears a sickening crack in his head and pain spreads throughout his torso. He groans, realizing his ribs just broke (again) and he can’t move for a moment.

He’s dazed, you can tell, and it just pisses you off. Doc Ock laughs, muttering something about how it was ‘too easy when it came to partners.’ You were enraged. You rarely use your full strength, in fact, nearly all the spiders try not to use their full strength for fear of what they might do to their enemies. But you’re too angry to think straight, and you just want this asshole to shut up so you can go home. You growl, beginning to lift the rubble off of you. The piece you’re lifting is a large part of the building, which is why you were trapped in the first place. Doc Ock glares at you, preparing to continue the fight. He didn’t expect you to fight back like this after the other had been struck down so violently.

You push the rubble above your head, casually holding a large piece of a building and breathing heavily. Not from overexertion, but from anger. Doc Ock extends his arms toward you, one opening to reveal a sharp dagger going directly for your heart. Before it can stab you where you would surely die, you’re able to twist your body to ensure it only goes through your shoulder. The pain is searing, but you’re too distraught to care about it. You rip the dagger out with one arm, somehow holding the building with one hand before you throw the rubble at him. He quickly brings up his arms to soften the blow, and even though they successfully make the rubble crumble around him, the kick you deliver to his face is enough to knock him back. Hard.

He looks up at you, dazed and confused about how you got to him that fast, before you deliver another blow, knocking him out cold. Your chest heaves as you raise your arm to strike him again before it’s held back by someone. Hobie captures him in one of Miguel’s specially designed prisons, and then opens a portal. He just tosses him in. He’ll show up in Spider Society one way or another. “Calm down there, sweetheart,” he says, and you turn, immediately checking over him to see how hurt he is. You can see some gashes throughout his suit, but he seems stable enough. All because he saw you get stabbed, and he’s pretending like his ribs aren’t in half. “I was just caught off guard, love, ‘m fine,” he says softly, slipping his arm behind your shoulders and slowly lowering you to the ground. “Wish I could say the same for you,” he mutters, staring at the stab wound pouring out blood. “Oh, this? This is nothing,” you grunt, the pain coming to the forefront now that the adrenaline is gone. He scoffs. “Yeah, ‘m sure,” he mumbles, unable to take his eyes off of your injuries. “Hobie… hey, my eyes are up here. Mask is on, so they’re so big you can’t miss ‘em,” you tease, and he looks up at you. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For bein’ soft in the ‘ead. Now you’re ‘urt cause a’ me,” he says quietly, and you shake your head. “You’re hurt because of me. I should have been paying closer attention to where I was going,” you mutter, and the blood loss begins to affect your head, “I kinda lost it when I thought about how your pretty face may have gotten fucked up.”

“Pretty, eh?”

“Mhm. So pretty,” you mumble, and he picks you up, carrying you with one arm and applying pressure to the wound with his other hand. You wince, and he frowns. “Sorry, love, can’t ‘ave you bleedin’ out on me after you admitted ‘m pretty,” he says. “Hold onto me best you can, yeah?” You wrap your good arm around his neck and your legs around his waist as he removes his hand from your wound and begins swinging to your place. He has one arm wrapped firmly around you to make sure you don’t fall, especially when he feels your grip loosening. “Stay with me, love,” he mumbles in your ear as he lands on your fire escape, hurrying up to your window and opening it. He steps in, carrying you, and goes straight to your bathroom. He props you up against your wall, sitting in front of you, and getting out the first aid kit all Spider-People are oh so familiar with.

You struggle to stay awake, but the stinging of the alcohol when he started cleaning your wound wakes you up and causes you to wince and whine. “I know, it ‘urts, I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, getting the needles ready to stitch you up. The pain of being a Spider-Person never quite lets up. You clench your teeth, and he works as fast and diligently as possible to get you fixed up. The whole time you just stare at his face. He’s so concentrated and worried that you can tell he’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. He finishes up, looking up at you. “You’re starin’, love.”

“How can I not?”

“The blood loss must really be gettin’ to ya,” he says, setting your first aid kit to the side, and giving you a small smile. You snort and shake your head. “Thanks,” you say, and he nods. “’Course, (Y/n/n).” Then you frown. “You have a cut on your forehead.”

“I’ll live,” he says, and you motion him to come closer. He gladly scoots closer to you as you apply a butterfly bandage to his forehead. He stares at you the whole time, waiting for you to finish. When you do, the two of you make eye contact. “Ya really think ‘m pretty?” he mumbles, and you nod. “Have for a while.”

“Serious?”

“Mhm,” you process just how close the two of you are in this moment and feel your face heat up. He smiles softly. “Not as pretty as you, though,” he whispers, glancing at your lips before returning his gaze to your eyes. The two of your noses brush, and he gently puts his hand on your cheek. “‘m tired of runnin’ from this,” he whispers. “Me, too,” you say, closing the gap between the two of you. He wraps his free arm around your waist, gently pulling you closer to him as you place your hands on his shoulders. The two of you stay like that for what feels like way too short. He slowly pulls away, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “Reckon we should go back to Spider Society,” he mumbles, and you sigh. “I dunno… I kinda wanna stay here. With you, no one else,” you say, and he chuckles. “Oh, me too. I don’t wanna go, but Miguel will call both of us if we don’t. We go, tell ‘im we didn’t die so ‘e doesn’t bother us, come back, yeah?”

“Deal,” you mumble, and he slowly stands, wincing. You frown. “You broke a rib, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, a few. I’ll be fine, nothin’ new,” he says, holding his hand out to you and helping you up. “Are ya lightheaded?”

“A little, but I’ll survive,” you assure, and he nods, wrapping his arm around your waist anyways to steady you. You wrap yours around his waist as well, offering him some extra support as he opens a portal to Spider Society. The two of you walk (moreso limp) your way there, and Miguel looks at the two of you. “What… happened?”

“Eh. Bloke was an ass,” Hobie says. “I was worried when he came through a portal but the two of you didn’t.”

“We had to stitch ourselves up. We just stopped in to say we didn’t die,” you shrug, and Hobie nods. “Well… alright, then. You can go to the hospital here if you need to,” Miguel says, and Hobie shakes his head. “Nah. We’re just gonna go sleep it off.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re even recovering as partners now?” Miguel asks, and the two of you look at each other. “We do everything as partners now,” you say, and Hobie smiles. “You mean…?” Miguel realizes the two of you have finally come to terms with your feelings. And finally told each other. “Yeah. We’re partners. In every sense of the word,” you grin, and Hobie nods. “Guess I should thank ya, Miguel. Don’t get used to it,” Hobie says as you pull up the portal to your world. Miguel watches the two of you disappear into it.

Hobie Brown was the bane of your existence. The most attractive bane of existence that there could possibly be.

And fortunately for you, Miguel insisted on the two of you being partners.

───────────────────────────────────

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x y/n #spiderpunk x reader #spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #hobie brown #spiderpunk #spiderverse #atsv

759 notes · View notes

yandere-toons · 1 year

Text

HENRY BOWERS

Platonic & Romantic Headcanons – Yandere

WARNING: child abuse and neglect, strong violence, bullying, implied alcoholism, reference to divorce, emotional abuse.

PLATONIC:

As soon as his father drinks himself into unconsciousness or throws him out the door, Henry stalks down the street to where he thinks his friend might be. Explaining nothing of his sullen demeanour, he places himself in the middle of whatever they are doing, dragging them into a more private area if their current activity is too public or not to his liking. From there, the hope is that his friend will act in a way that comforts him without him having to ask for it and risk further humiliation.

There are two possible outcomes here, depending on how his friend treats him and who else gets involved. If they accept his presence without prying, Henry will shut down and remain silent for a while, riding out the emotional storm around someone he now has a reasonable chance of trusting. If they stonewall him or others interrupt, Henry will revert to his hostile bully persona and never mention the event again, as it has become a new source of shame for him.

Henry reveals a watered-down version of the truth when pressed for answers, but even then, he refuses to tell the whole story out of a desire not to relive it, not to be seen as a whiner, and not to show how profoundly it has affected him. After all, a history of cruel reactions from his father and the small-town mentality of Derry have taught him that emotional vulnerability is a dangerous mistake of the stupid and weak.

Despite this, it becomes increasingly clear that Henry is stalling for time when the subject of going home creeps up on him. He would much rather stay out all day and night with his friend and the gang, cruising town with Belch at the wheel, forgetting what awaits him when he sets foot on the family farm. But Henry knows only too well that Butch's wrath will double if he has to go looking for him.

Henry will threaten and, if sufficiently provoked, maim anyone who shows an interest in his friend. His worldview is more than a little misanthropic, as his good memories are few and far between, and his father and the community at large have taught him to hate anyone who challenges his idea of the norm. As such, he sees this as a favour to his friend, ridding them of all the scumbags who would inevitably trap them in an unwanted relationship.

But deeper down, in the places that have never quite healed, the places he never talks about, Henry is afraid of powerlessness. He despises the thought that his friend would abandon him because of someone else, as his mother did, so he does not give them that option. Anyone who tries to plant the idea in their head that they should cut ties with him, or worse, leave town, he beats as if it might save his life.

As far as Henry is concerned, no one offers a better source of companionship than he. He is fond of yelling this supposed fact and more at his friend when they refuse to drop everything and join him at a moment's notice. Seeing this as an affront to his authority as well as a personal insult, Henry cannot take it, especially when it happens in front of people, and tries to hector them into submission.

If any of Henry's accomplices disagree with his methods, none will be too honest about it. Henry displays an unabashed willingness to hurt anyone and everyone who comes between him and his friend. Other bullies have required stitches courtesy of Henry and learned to turn tail at the sight of him or them, and the last concerned citizen to intervene was left with a concussion.

Although Henry is a little more lenient with his gang, he still has rules about what kind of interactions are acceptable. Some of these rules go unspoken until one of the other boys crosses a line he did not know had been drawn. On the first day, Patrick Hockstetter lost his right to be alone with Henry's friend and incurred a death threat from Henry after Patrick made advances towards them and asked if they would like to share Henry with him.

Spending time with other people sounds like a waste of energy to Henry, but spending time with the Losers is so inexcusable that he expresses it in the only language he knows: violence. His need to anticipate his father's unstable emotions has made him sensitive to any sign of displeasure in others, which Henry receives in abundance from one of the Losers, Richie Tozier. Tozier calls him an obsessive freak when he cuts one of the kids for staring at his friend.

ROMANTIC:

His only frame of reference is his parents' disastrous marriage, now separated, and the couples at school he enjoys breaking up with shoves and jibes. Henry can be demanding in everything he asks of his partner, putting them in the untenable position of bearing the brunt of his emotional hunger. It is an overwhelming and confused mess of mixed signals and frustration that has built up over years.

Much of Henry's attention-seeking behaviour and unpredictable aggression stems from the fact that he is both ashamed of his struggles and less and less successful at repressing them. When he still tries, it manifests itself in violent outbursts and, in the context of this relationship, defensive anger when his partner does not immediately and completely fulfil his needs.

There are few things Henry would hate more than being compared to his father, so he refrains from using this level of violence with his partner. However, he retains a distinct bullheadedness in the many arguments that do break out, usually over Henry's desire for them to give up any part of their life that distracts from him.

Under no circumstances is Butch to know that Henry has a partner, let alone meet them. He would rather die than have them see what a so-called coward he becomes around his father, and the thought of them being caught in the crossfire of one of his father's explosions makes him want to stick the knife in Butch's throat a little sooner.

At the first sign of Butch's approach, Henry pulls away from his partner and tells them that if things get heated, they should go with Victor and wait for him at a distance. Victor is disturbed by Henry's extreme view of the relationship but is wise enough not to say so to his face.

Watching his partner suffer abuse at the hands of a family member ignites a rage in Henry that stems from his unfulfilled desire to take revenge on his father. He flashes back to when Butch similarly hurt him, reopening the last wound he tried to numb by avoiding his home and seeking out his partner. Every punch Henry lands, every slash with the knife, is almost like getting back at his father for all the scars he gave him.

Henry refuses to feel remorse for those he attacks, as Butch would never apologise for the damage he inflicts and once even rewarded Henry for his violent actions. After making his partner drop a science project in the hallway, the child he forced to eat dirt had it coming. The classmate who sat next to his partner at lunch - a seat reserved for Henry, regardless of whether anyone else knows it or whether he feels like taking it that day - deserved to be thrown to the floor and humiliated in a way that will haunt them forever.

Competition, real or imagined, is unforgivable and will be met with swift, if not disproportionate, retaliation. The first line of defence is a barrage of verbal abuse, escalating to physical assault unless the pest flees the scene and swears an oath never to speak to his partner again. From there, Henry will order his cohorts to hold the person still while he carves, stones, drowns and breaks whatever he finds most offensive.

Part of a community that frowns upon physical closeness between friends, Henry seeks in this relationship the emotional intimacy and affection that his father never provided. He denies having such needs when anyone suggests otherwise, insisting that he only stays with his partner for superficial reasons and would not miss them if they were to disappear one day.

Despite his claims of indifference, Henry displays a violent resentment towards those who befriend his partner, perceiving these individuals as a threat to his importance in their life. This fear speaks to his underlying insecurity of not being in control, the same insecurity that drives him to suspect the worst in people and defend or assert himself accordingly.

Do anything you want with my work, but never make me boring!

574 notes · View notes

une-femme-de-lettres · 1 year

Text

Imagine

Sewing and mending your clothes after a mission

This is highly specific and detailed but I love the idea. Also domestic 141 is the best thing!!

Laying low after a mission is definitely not the best part of your job. You often times find yourself stuck in an old safe house with your teammates, sharing a small space with them, while not knowing when you’ll be able to go back on the field.

But there surely is one thing that these days can offer you, is some time to think, process the things you’ve seen and get some rest. And as you are forced to figuratively mend and repair your mind, you often take advantage of the peace and quiet to literally mend and repair your equipment; clothes, gear, tools or weapons… anything that could’ve been damaged during your latest intervention.

The whole habitation is quiet as you make your way to the living area. Your teammates are there. Price is watching some obscure documentary about the fishing industry in South America on the telly, the sound brought to a minimum. Soap is mindlessly doodling in his journal, not looking particularly satisfied with his work. Gaz is taking a nap slouched on the couch beside Price, he’s probably tried watching the documentary, didn’t work out too well…

And Ghost is quietly cleaning his pistol, methodically clearing every little piece of any gunk, grime and leftover powder. The clicking of the metal pieces give a rhythm to the silence. You hate to interrupt such a peaceful picture so you speak quietly.

“Hey,” you start, a few eyes moving over to look at you, “I’m gonna take some time to sew up a few things. Got anything that needs mending?” you ask them.

“I’m good, thanks for the thought, though,” Price responds with a gentle smile that warms your heart a little. You nod and turn to Soap.

“I don’t think so, Lass, but thanks.” He can’t think of anything off the top of his head for now, so you finally look at Ghost. His back is slightly turned to you, you can see him looking back slightly and responding with a shrug.

He’s been way quieter around you lately, you noticed. But Ghost is Ghost, right? So you don’t really pay him any mind and give one last nod before going back into your room. On your way there, you don’t notice Price’s slight head movement directed towards Ghost. And behind the door of your room, you don’t hear the husky sigh Ghost let out as he stands up from his seat.

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, legs crossed as you silently pass your needle through the fabric of your torn tank top. It’s not major tear, nothing a quick stitching can’t fix. You’re focused in your task when a light knock on your door makes you look up.

Ghost is slowly entering your room, his gaze fleeing yours. As it often does lately. He speaks quietly, his voice still very composed, just like every time you’re working out there on the field, precise and efficient.

“Do you have a spare needle?” he asks. You notice the balaclava in his hand before he holds it out slightly in front of you. “I need to repair this,” he finishes. You look at him for a moment, trying to keep your thoughts at bay. He requesting your help with anything outside the field was not unheard of, but it was still pretty new… Why does he look so cute?

“Sure, there you go,” you respond, picking a small needle and some black thread in your tiny sewing kit. You hand the objects to him and he takes them with a grateful nod. He looks about to leave when he stops in his tracks, not sure if he should ask you.

“This is a knit fabric, I’m not sure how to…” he starts hesitantly, showing you the piece of clothing again, “go about it,” he concludes. You fight the small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and pat the empty space on the bed covers beside you.

“I’ll show you, if you want,” you say and he complies surprisingly quickly.

In your line of work, whether it be on skin or cloth, a man needs to learn out to sew. It’s a primordial skill when you’re in a survival situation, to keep your clothes functional. Ghost in an intelligent man, you realize he probably knows how to take care of his stuff beyond just keeping his guns working.

But even you find knit fabrics tricky to work with. One wrong stitch and the next time you use your item, it might very well run enough to render it unusable. And your heart flutters at the idea of him asking you for help, even for such a tiny little thing.

Ghost sits beside you, the mattress dipping ever so slightly, making you lean towards him just a little. He prepares his needle and thread while you put your own work aside. Once this is done, you locate the small hole in the balaclava he’s laid on his thigh to free his hands. You hand it back to him, pointing towards the repair area.

“First, you need to thread all the loops left open to stop it from running,” you indicate. The loops you’re mentioning are tiny, but precision is your job, so they’re all threaded very soon and you can begin the real work.

“Then you can thread through that and darn it just like a woven fabric,” you say, mimicking the technique moving your finger back and forth. He starts mending the piece, using your advice.

The needle looks comically small in his massive hand. The size of things makes his movements quite awkward. And it doesn’t help that he’s holding the needle with the very tip of his fingers, barely touching it, as if he were afraid to do something wrong.

You smile gently at the sight and decide to help him further. Your fingers brush against his as you move his hand so he can work pushing the needle towards himself instead of away. A technique you’d found way more efficient over the years.

“It’ll be easier if you hold it from this side,” you say, your voice quiet and thoughtful. The voice he loves to hear rolling off your tongue and lips when you are close to him. “Guide the needle with your index and thumb and push it with your middle finger,” you explain as he watches your hands working his fingers into position with a curious eye. “Like this.”

He starts using your latest advice, religiously following your movements as you mimic the gesture in the air. He manages to work faster, his hand steadier. You smile. His needle work starts taking shape. “Nice work,” you say, turning your head to look at his face. His eyes are looking straight back at you. For once in quite some time now, his gaze doesn’t dart away from yours. It just gently moves to your slightly parted lips and stays there for a moment. A moment that doesn’t last nearly long enough for him.

#simon riley imagine #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod mw22 #cod mwii #cod mw2 fanfic #ghost cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #ghost call of duty #ghost x you #ghost x reader #reader insert #imagine #soft ghost #fluff #task force 141 #domestic fluff

1K notes · View notes

cas-backwards-tie · 6 months

Text

Chapter Six: The Summer of a Lifetime

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Heiress of Gotham | Previous Chapter

Summary: With things out of the way and perhaps a little more trust, maybe the reader will finally start to make some progress, and a few friends along the way.

Warnings: Spying, Being Spied On, Insects, Wet T-Shirts, Flirting,

Words: 3.6k

A/N: While this chapter may seem like it takes a lot of twists in turns in the vignettes, it's sort of meant to reflect the ups and downs and small moments we have during summer. Honestly, though, this is perfect for the introduction of certain characters and plotlines I wanted! القرف = ‘shit’

It'd been an interesting end to the school year, really, and that's aside from the fact that you'd had to deal with and go through the grief of your Mother passing. Within the few months you'd been at Wayne Manor, the family had quickly learned many things about you. Bruce had found out how frugal and tenacious you are, insistent on selling some of your old articles of clothing for money on some app he could never remember the name of, meanwhile refuting the many attempts he'd offered to take you out shopping. Who wants to go shopping with their Dad anyway? He'd been consumed with work, and therefore more time had been turned over to your brothers.

While school was out for both you and Damian, Tim had decided to take summer classes at the nearby community college since it'd make his college applications only look better. Dick, of course, was still working, and Jason, really, you had no idea what was going on with him since it seemed he had most days free and nights taken. While you'd considered the possibility that someone associated with the Wayne family had a night-time job, you also didn't want to think of someone who very quickly became a big brother to you in that manner. That was just... ew. With the three eldest gone or rarely home, you'd been left with Damian and Alfred mostly.

--------

“So… you’re spying on your own child because…?” Tim draws out, leaning against the motherboard as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Because it’s Bruce? You’re not the first. Thought you would’ve been the wiser, Green Bean,” Dick chides as he manually stitches another loop into his uniform. Seated on the edge of the metal table propped against the railing on the other side of the platform.

“She’s been watching television for over two hours straight. Is this unhealthy?” The man of the hour speaks, eyes unmoving from the image of you through the lens of one of his pesky drones.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s supposed to be parenting, yeah? You chose to bring her on, you choose what’s healthy and unhealthy,” the elder boy retorts, a clear sass in his tone that reminds Bruce where Damian’s gotten it from.

“Hn,” the old man groans, “That doesn’t mean I know what’s standard in teenagedom as of currently,” he grumbles more to himself than anyone.

“Have you tried, I don’t know, just talking to her?” Tim asks, an eyebrow quirking as he doesn’t try and hide the amused smile breaking across his lips.

“You’re one to talk,” Bruce teases the boy. He’s still somewhat resentful of the way he’d handled things with Stephanie a few years ago now.

A huff of annoyance leaves Tim and he rolls his eyes. Pushing off the computer, he turns to head for the stairs when he spots movement on the monitor. Dick doesn’t seem to care, rather, he’s focused on fixing and upgrading his equipment. However, Tim watches from just a few feet behind the old man’s chair. His drone follows you as you get up, bringing an empty dish and glass to the kitchen. You don’t notice, of course, as Tim knows this has to be one of the nano drones, most likely, disguised as a fly following your movements through the Manor just a few hundred feet above them.

It’s uninteresting, really, the way he watches you put your empty dish in the sink along with your glass. Your visage shifts, heading back to the living room, but doesn’t fail to notice the nano drone. “Spotted,” Tim announces, curious to see where this goes.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Most people aren’t fazed by an insect,” Bruce defends, finally taking his gaze off the screen for a mere moment as he turns to Tim. The boy watches as you step closer to the drone; the still fly on the fridge’s handle was easy to spot, and while your eyes quickly move on in an attempt to seem as if you hadn’t noticed the bug, not wanting to disrupt it or scare it away, you step closer to the fridge.

On top of the box lies an item you’ve been grateful for ever since you’d gotten your Mom to buy it offline. Easily stepping on your tiptoes you grab the object’s handle and have your finger ready atop the trigger. Now all that’s left is to catch it off-guard.

The amused look on Tim’s face makes Bruce paranoid; blue eyes racing back to the monitor, he watches as a tennis-racket swatter comes his way. Lifting the nanodrone up and off the surface he barely escapes the touch of the electric swatter. Bzzt! He’s hit. Flying across the kitchen and landing on the counter, he turns the drone around to get you in frame again. “And you thought she wouldn’t do anything,” Tim laughs. An error message pops up, screen turning red along with the artificial voice alert. Clearly you’ve damaged the drone.

“It only took twenty-five percent capacity,” Bruce announced, clicking different keys to get everything back to neutral.

This elicits Dick’s eyes as his focus shifts up to the situation before him. An amused smile graces his lips and he can’t help but sometimes pity the man. Bruce… tries. He means well, but he doesn’t always have the best approach. “Gotta say, this is better than reality tv.” His Father shakes his head and, attention returning to the monitor again after being distracted by Tim.

“You risked a drone for this? Come on, man. This is your own daughter we’re talking about,” Tim chastises, even if he’s still laughing and more than amused by this. If he wants to waste his tech, by all means, let them watch. It’s not like he can’t get more.

The men watch as you look around the kitchen, eyes taking everything in. With an occasional turn, and a flip of your hair, he’s spotted again! This time Bruce sees you coming before he can be squashed. Out of sight, out of mind, he thinks. “Honestly, I’m just lucky she didn’t spot me earlier. Ace and Titus weren’t the most helpful considering they kept tracking my movements, clueing her in. But she didn’t get me until now.”

“I’m impressed she even got you at all, honestly,” Dick comments, drawing their attention again.

“Not a fan?” Tim asks, curious to hear his thoughts. After all, he hasn’t been around as much considering things have been busy with school, and hectic with Stephanie… therefore, he doesn’t know as much about you. He hasn’t spent as much time around you as the others.

Met with a noncommittal noise, Tim watches Dick shrug. “I’ve got nothing against her aside from what she said at her dinner and obviously her hate for the BPD,” he trails off, a shudder running through him, “then again, she was kind of insane when we were moving her stuff. Threatened to kill us and all. Not really the type of vibe you wanna have running around the house, you know? At least, not mine, I’ll tell you that.” With a chuckle, Dick lifts the needle to his mouth, teeth going for the fabric since he hadn’t bothered to grab scissors.

Tim almost laughs along with his brother, that is until he processes what he’d said. “Wait, what-?!” Eyes quickly darting between him and Bruce, he’s suddenly alert. “What do you mean she tried to kill you?! What’re you talking about? Hey- why didn’t you tell me this?” He zeroes in on Bruce, determined to get an answer. “Does Damian know? Why am I the last one to find out about anything around here?” He complains.

“I mean she tried to-“ Dick begins.

“She did not! Dick, stop exa-“ Bruce interrupts.

“Bruce-“ Tim interjects, eyes suddenly on your approaching visage in the drone’s visual. “Bruce!” You’ve got the fly cornered, with one swift sweeping wack, and a press of the button, it’ll die.

“What?!” He yells. As soon as he turns from Tim to the monitor he’s too late. Zzztt!!! They all grimace and wince. An alert pops up on screen:

‘V I S U A L L O S T’

The options to ‘connect to different device’ or ‘relay input’ lie underneath the big text, but ultimately you’d destroyed the thing. With the click of a button Bruce closes the tab and the background of the Manor’s security camera feeds linger. Alfred dances in the office as he dusts along, presumably, to music—Bruce knows his routine. On another, you’re carrying the nanodrone on the electric swatter to the trash, disposing of the ‘fly’ you’d killed. Lastly, Damian is reading, doing his homework as he sits in an armchair by the fireplace in the Library, Titus curled up by his feet.

“Dammit! This is why you can’t just be in here. You’re either here for a purpose or you’re out,” Bruce dictates. “Dick is actually doing something, Tim. You’re just gossiping.” With a defeated drop of his hands to the desk, he raises himself from his computer chair and rounds Tim.

“You still didn’t tell me what happened,” Tim argues, the anger in his voice no longer hiding. “I’m tired of being out of the loop! What happened?” he demands. A sigh weighs Bruce’s shoulders down, and as Dick finally takes in the men before him, he doesn’t dare to add any more flame to the already burning fire.

“She was involved with Marin. Alright? She thought he was coming for her, momentarily figured we were in on it. Satisfied?” Bruce responds, turning to face the boy.

They all know he’s been hurt. That he has trauma… it’s no secret. Yet, it’s only in few and far between moments that the boys are able to see things for what they are in a crystal-clear view. This is one of those times. Their warped views on good and evil, right and wrong, revenge and punishment… they blur the lines of reality in ways he’s sure that you, a civilian, would never understand, and yet… Tim realizes the weight of this.

“Who-?”

“Angel Marin. Bludhaven’s biggest mob boss,” Dick informs. A ‘Hn’ leaves Bruce’s lips as he makes his way toward the stairs, and a sigh leaves Tim. With a grateful nod in Grayson’s direction, Tim follows after Bruce.

------

“You know, someone mentioned your birthday is coming up,” Bruce teases, a hint of a smile hiding behind his wine glass.

The quick flash of a smile overtakes your face before you try to hide it. None of them miss it. “Um… yeah. W-who said?”

It’s invisible, perhaps, to all besides those who know him best, however, Bruce pales at the question, faltering. While you’re good at reading people, you don’t notice. Whether it’s the subject matter or the way everyone’s staring, you simply wait for a response.

“Uh, the-“ he clears his throat, eyes suddenly downcast as he reaches for his knife and fork to cut his steak, “the social worker! Yes, she mentioned it while you were in your meeting.” Obviously a lie. If anyone truly knows Bruce the way most at the table do, they'd know he found it in your files and footprint.

“Oh,” you respond, putting on a fake smile as you too attempt to hide behind the meal. Birthdays can be a big deal for some, and others, not. It all depends, and you aren't sure where things lie in this family. You still feel like an outsider, despite their attempts, and you don't want to burden them further.

“We could have a party!” Damian suggests, to everyone’s surprise.

“You just want a party,” Jason comments with a chortle.

“Is there anything you want?” Dick asks, looking down at you from your side, putting you on the spot. His kind blue eyes stir something within you, and you turn your gaze back to your plate. Busying yourself by cracking your knuckles, your lips purse into a line. With a shake of your head, it’s clear no one is sated.

“There’s nothing you want? At all?” Bruce prods, eliciting your eye contact again. Lips pursing even more you shake your head again.

“Um,” eyes falling to your lap you collect yourself, not allowing your imagination to run wild. “You taking me in was enough. Thank you.” Voice quiet, everyone has their own reaction to your words, albeit unbeknownst to you.

“Oh, shut up! You know there’s at least one thing you want,” Jason teases from across the table.

“Oh? And what’s that since you know her so well?” Tim pries, knowing he’s setting his brother up. Jason hesitates, almost choking on his drink which elicits laughs from the boys, and an amused smile from Bruce. As bickering starts to ensue, you decide.

“I-“ all eyes turn to you, “I want a party!” You announce. With a confident smile, you figure, how bad could it be? After all, parties don't need to be big! Something sweet, the family there, and a boardgame is all you'd need for it to be considered a party to you.

“See? At least I know what she wants,” Damian chides proudly.

“Oh? Well what kind of party would you like?” Bruce asks.

“Who do you want to invite?” Dick inquires.

“What’s the theme?” Jason adds.

“Actually, isn’t your birthday coming up now that I think of it?” Tim voices his concern over to Jason.

“Uh…” Jason shakes his head a little, taken aback, “I mean, I don’t really celebrate anymore since-“

“-the same day as Alfred’s, that’s right,” Bruce saves them, an unfazed smile on his lips, “though I believe we can celebrate both, can’t we?” While you’re not exactly paying attention, to the rest of them there’s a silent, yet menacing request behind his eyes. It’s clear they’re not allowed to speak freely anymore, no matter your new seat at the table of their family.

“Okay, but mine comes first- or did you forget again?” Damian asks with a bite. Upon the silence, he rolls his eyes and goes back to his meal with the exasperated sound of his breath hitting his tongue against his teeth. An audible ‘Tt’ sound.

“I didn’t forget, Damian,” Bruce clenches his jaw and grips his glass a little tighter. Does every family dinner have to turn into a fight? “You know I was with the-“ he catches himself, “Hn- that I had to-“

“-business calls… we’re well aware, Father. Perhaps you’ll do yourself a favor and won’t miss your other child’s birthday,” Damian finishes the conversation. “Not that I count on it.”

--------

Walking through the pool room, you’re focused on texting Daisha, intent on telling her the good news!

‘Omg you’ll never guess what just happened! I’ll ha-‘

Splash!

A dissatisfied exclamation escapes your lips as you stare at the wet stain on your shirt. “Really?! Dam-“ looking up from your drenched navy tank top, your eyes widen and lips part.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I thought you were Damian.”

You quickly take in the super-soaker and the boy’s apologetic expression, and it’s easy enough to put two and two together. As footsteps quietly click against the tiled floors of the locker rooms leading toward the pool deck, you grab the boy’s hand and drag him back the way he’d come around the corner. There lies a linen closet between the pool, laundry room, and stairwell. With a swift hand, you open the door and shove him in, following after as you quietly shut the door.

A bemused smile appears on his lips as his eyebrows furrow. “You’re his sister,” he whispers with certainty, “I’m Billy.”

Whispering back your name, he repeats it. Visibly eager on saying something else, you place your fingers on his lips to shut him up. He follows your eyesight, both of you staring through the slats in the closet door. With a keen ear, he gets the gist and remains quiet. As moments pass, you can feel the boy staring; curious, you meet his gaze only to find him searching your eyes. You can’t help but notice how pretty his are. Though you almost get swept up in admiring his features, you hear a faint creak only meters away; with a motion of your other hand, you beckon him to hand you the gun.

Transferred into your open hand, you slowly remove your fingers from his lips, cupping the barrel of the super-soaker while the other wraps around the handle, fingers ready at the trigger. With a head nod toward the door, you mouth the words: ‘On three! Ready?’

Billy seems to understand, as he holds his hands up in a ready stance to push open the doors. Together, you both mouth the countdown (which is really a count up, but anyway): ‘One… Two…’

“THREE!” Busting out of the closet, Damian is just a few feet from your right. It’s easy to spin and shoot as you’d been prepared, having watched him walk past the door together. Your brother had jumped, yet shot a few instinctive rounds of water, splashing both you, Billy, and the wall.

“القرف! What the hell! What are you doing here? Who let you play?” Damian curses, holding his gun in a stationary position once you’ve all recovered from the attack. His suspicious green eyes narrow as they dart between the two of you.

“I figured it was only fair since you didn’t let me know about your little game and I got caught in the crossfire,” you reason, pointing to your shirt with the gun.

“I accidentally shot her thinking I had you cornered, so…” Billy’s words die on his tongue. Without sparing the kid a glance, you shove the super-soaker back in his hands before offering him a grateful smile. At least you’d hit Damian once, you figure. With that, you’re more than happy to abandon the boys to their games as you walk toward the laundry room to see if your clothes are finished drying.

“You didn’t tell me she was my age!” You head Billy yell before a series of exclamations and curses follow with the sound of splashing water and rapidly receding footsteps.

--------

As stupid as it was to find your thoughts continuing to drift back toward a certain brown hair, green-eyed boy, you couldn’t help it. Though you’ve grown more tolerable of one another over the past few months, you still can’t believe that one of Damian’s friends is who’s on your mind. Nevertheless, fate would seem to have an amusing time linking the two of you together, constantly running into the other.

You suppose it isn’t strange after all, especially when considering he is one of Damian’s friends… however, you find him over the at Manor more and more often after the initial first time he’d quite literally bumped into you.

--------

“Grab me a juice box? I forgot one too—“ Damian’s voice echoes throughout the theatre as Billy yells back an affirmative answer and heads back toward the kitchen.

“Oh, hey-" You greet, backing up as a familiar figure exits the home theatre.

“Hey- what’s up?” Billy asks, a friendly smile gracing his lips.

"Was just gonna get a snack before we start," you tell him, "Guess we're headed the same way then," you tease. Walking down the hallway and up the stairs to the kitchen, you're aware of your brother's friend just a few steps behind.

“Are you gonna watch with us?” Billy asks hopefully.

“I mean, if that’s okay, yeah, I was planning on it." You respond, not thinking about it too much. After all, you want this popcorn to be good, not a burned pile of charcoal.

“Oh, I didn’t mea-“ Billy goes to correct himself.

“It’s fine. I’ll be down in a minute, I’m just making my own popcorn because the boys would eat it all otherwise,” you joke. Surely since he's friends with Damian he knows what the guys are like.

“That’s smart- that way you don’t have to share and keep passing it back and forth the whole time.” Billy adds on.

“Yeah. Do you want some? I can make another little packet,” You offer.

“Sure! I can do it though, you don’t have t-“ He argues.

“-I don’t mind! I've gotta wait for it anyway and grab some bowls. So I'll see you down there!" With that reassurance, Billy offers you one last smile before taking the juice boxes downstairs.

The older boys and your Father had insisted you pick the movie considering it's your first movie night with the family, and while most of them had been dreading what genre you'd pick, everyone ended up excited to watch a classic comedy most of them hadn't seen in years. Snuggled up under the fluffy blankets with your popcorn and the laughs of your brothers all around, you couldn't help but enjoy the fun.

--------

Most of the summer felt like it was spent in your room. Whether it was trying to explore the things that truly make you happy, or being lonely in a place that still feels entirely all too unfamiliar despite the fact that it's been a couple months.

The material things did help at first, the new environment, the little gifts your Father and brothers would treat you to, like those little Squishmallows you'd always seen and wanted at the store, but never bought yourself. They were more expensive than you'd ever thought to casually pay. Nevertheless, you've started to make your room truly your own. With decorating, personalizing, and getting into your own sort of routine, it seems that everyone has been slowly becoming used to this new lifestyle.

Alfred insisted that as summer begins to come to a close, you all decide on either making time for a vacation, or perhaps you and Damian get involved in extra curriculars. In the sake of preparation for school, you'd taken up driving lessons as you'll soon be old enough to begin the process of obtaining your permit. Then there was also the announcements from the school you'll be attending in the fall; with sports and clubs gearing up for homecoming, tryouts were coming up. Your Father had insisted that Damian consider a sport this year, and Alfred equally has been trying to push you in any sort of direction that'll lead to getting you out of the house and your room.

Needless to say, he wouldn't let go of the idea that your mental health could use less isolation and more friends, hobbies, and pursuance of your 'passions' even if you're not entirely sure what those are yet. It didn't take long for you to succumb to your butler (essentially) grandpa's badgering. Though you have a plan in mind for what sport you'll be trying out for, you haven't revealed them to the family. The way they seem to share everything is... still new, and somewhat unsettling to you.

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic ,@moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980 , @theroyalmanatee ,@azazel-nyx , @nightrose-18 , @vanessa-boo , @ih4temy5elfs0b4d , @agent-nobody-knows , @scarlett13 , @hoeinthehouse , @huhhuhh , @maxinehufflepuffprincess

210 notes · View notes

therealdisneyfan2319 · 1 year

Text

Cookies | Wanda Maximoff

A Stripper MILF Wanda Cinematic Universe Story

Summary: Wanda’s in her happy place: the kitchen

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Sexual innuendo

Word Count: 1.3K

Masterlist

Wanda’s happy place was the kitchen. Either that or the garden. Domesticity brought a grounded sense of normalcy to her otherwise chaotic life: stripping wasn’t normal, pruning shrubs and breaking down a whole chicken were. At her most stressed, you’d come downstairs in the morning to the kitchen counters overflowing with a variety of muffins, cookies, and other pastries as she poured her stress into sugar.

Most days you left her alone when she got into one of her cooking moods. You learned the hard way when you were on the receiving end of a thrown wooden spoon. That was when you decided it would be best to hide out literally anywhere else in the house, but today you couldn’t help yourself. Maybe it was the sweet smell of her famous double chocolate chunk cookies, or perhaps it was the oldies hits playlist echoing throughout the downstairs. Either way, all you wanted to do was stand and watch.

Wanda was in her own world. She didn’t notice as you slunk your way to the kitchen, crossing your arms as you leaned on the wall, lovingly gazing at her all the while. The sweet smell of her famous double chocolate chunk wafted through the air as the latest batch baked to perfection in the oven. The others sat atop cooling racks, their tantalizing aroma infiltrating your brain. Dressed in her half apron, the strings tied in a neat bow and accentuating her still heavenly figure, Wanda danced around the kitchen. Her baking playlist was filled with an eclectic mixture of artists and genres spanning from the golden oldies to traditional Sokovian folk music. She was on a 70s kick today and Al Green’s voice echoed off the walls of Wanda’s safe haven.

She was ridiculously adorable. Wanda bopped to the beat, swinging her hips as she took one tray out of her oven and replaced it with another. She twirled, singing slightly-off key as she eyed the mixing bowl on the counter. Leave it to Wanda to lick the remaining batter off the spoon even after yelling at the boys to not do so. It was only the sound of your poorly stifled giggle that snapped her back into reality: she froze like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide as the spoon remained firmly in her mouth.

“What?” she mumbled innocently, swirling her tongue around the last morsels of chocolatey deliciousness.

“Nothing,” you shrugged. “Just thought licking the batter from the bowl wasn’t allowed in your good Jewish household.”

“This is a spoon, darling, not a bowl.” Wanda rolled her eyes, her lips curving upward in a subtle grin as she turned away from you. Your eyes were glued to the way her jeans fit her perfectly. The looseness of the vintage bell bottoms had no impact on the tight hug the rinsed denim had over her hips. The cookies were definitely not the only snack in the kitchen. “What are you staring at?”

“Huh?” Her voice snapped you out of your hypnotized state.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Umm…the stitching on your pockets matches the strings on your apron?” She glanced behind her shoulder, spinning awkwardly to try and look at her back pockets.

“I don’t know whether to be flattered or weirded out.”

“Well I’m checking you out so…” you smirked.

“How about you check these out instead?” You opened your mouth to speak right as Wanda shoved a warm cookie right inside.

Like always, Wanda’s culinary skills were off the charts. It was warm, gooey, and ever so chocolatey the way you liked. A sinful groan escaped your lips as the morsel literally melted in your mouth.

“Well-?” She cocked her head, hand on her hip as she twirled the spoon around her free hand.

“Perfection. Like usual. But I don’t think these cookies are the best snack in the kitchen right now.” Wanda’s face blushed as red as her shirt at your insinuation. Not one who took praise easily, she kicked one foot in front of the other as she stared at the ground, completely embarrassed. It was her most endearing quality.

“So I’m a snack then?” she asked quietly.

“I don’t know if I’d really consider you a snack though, Wanda.”

“Oh-?” Her eyes widened in confusion as you slunk towards her.

“I think that you’re definitely more of a dessert. The end of the meal, the best part of the night. A succulent, luscious, tantalizing dessert.” There wasn’t a second for Wanda to respond to your seductive insinuations. As she opened her mouth, you grabbed her face, pulling her as close as you could and pressing your lips firmly against hers. She tasted of cherry (her choice of chapstick) and chocolate, the intoxicating combination dizzying the both of you. Soft arms wrapped around your neck. The wooden spoon rubbed up against the back of your head and sprinkled your hair with chocolate. You didn’t care. As you deepened the kiss, Wanda carefully walked the two of you back into the island counter. She giggled as a soft bump stopped the two of you and you couldn’t help but smile into her soft lips. Her hands trailed down your neck, the wooden dowel drawing a line down your spine while her hands eventually gripped your waist.

“I smell cookies!”

“I’ll beat you to-EWW!”

Nothing broke the two of you apart faster than Billy and Tommy stopping dead in their tracks in front of you. Wanda pushed you off of her so hard you nearly toppled over while the spoon fell forgotten to the ground.

“Gross!” Billy mumbled as he grabbed two cookies off the cooling rack, not bothering to make eye contact with either you or his mother.

“Yeah, get a room, mom,” Tommy chided as he shoveled a stack of cookies into his hands.

“Excuse me, young man, but that’s way too many cookies,” Wanda scolded as she readjusted her rumpled shirt.

“If I eat enough cookies I’ll forget what I saw. Do you want me to be scarred for life?” Somehow you managed to cover your laugh with a cough as you knelt down to pick up the spoon. Wanda was speechless at Tommy’s remark. Her face, once red with desire, was now red with embarrassment. Was it a little impetuous? Yes. Was it funny? Absolutely, but you couldn’t let Wanda know that.

“Just get out of here before I make you put those cookies back, mister!” she called as he raced down the hall.

The two of you stood in the uncomfortable awkwardness of just being caught by Wanda’s sons. While it wasn’t the most compromising position the two of you had been caught in, you wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. It was only the dinging of the timer that brought you out of such an awkward pause.

“So…” you mumbled after clearing your throat.

“So…” Wanda answered as she flipped cookies off the hot pan and on to the cooling rack.

“That was-”

“Awkward.”

“Very.”

“It’s our fault. We both knew they’re home.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact I’m incredibly horny,” you shrugged, plopping another cookie into your mouth.

“Y/N!” Wanda snapped, the faintest hint of a smirk on her face.

“What? I haven’t seen you in a week, your ass looks fantastic in those jeans, and-goddamn, these cookies are incredible.”

“What do my cookies have to do with you being horny?”

“Nothing. They’re just really good.”

Wanda sighed, looking at the empty mixing bowl in front of her. “This is what I get for dating a twenty-five year old,” she mumbled as she shook her head.

“We don’t have to have sex if you don’t want to.” Wanda’s head snapped up suddenly, a devilish gleam in her eye.

“Who says I don’t want to?”

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff fic #scarlet witch fic #wanda maximoff x male reader #wanda x male reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch x male reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x y/n #self reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #therealdisneyfan2319

534 notes · View notes

vaguely-concerned · 14 days

Text

I wanted to write out a more condensed version of the Garashir thoughts I accumulated through my read of a stitch in time, because it really is driving me slightly nuts. so here we go!

I think my basic takeaway is something like: if you look at what's actually on the page as dialogue and not just the story garak tells himself internally of what has happened between them (which is basically 'I've fucked up somehow and I don't know how or why but something's broken here and I messed it up; I have nothing left of interest to offer him', pretty clearly going over it in his head like he would trying to figure out what he did wrong when tain locked him in a closet as a child), you kind of get the feeling that julian doesn't know what to do with the way garak flinches away from him whenever he tries to get closer or offer help. (which like. not for nothing but that's actually the dynamic between garak and mila too, but with garak's role switched to the mostly-resigned seeker of contact rather than the flincher-away. we all know garak’s daddy issues but I think the mommy issues at work are doing some gulf stream shit under the surface as well lol.) so julian starts hesitating in seeking out contact in the first place, nevermind asking him for anything more when garak's also clearly falling apart mentally and seems unreachable in the first place. and Julian also doesn't want to mess this up and make something already fraught and painful even worse; he still wants to help! he always wants to help, that’s just who he is, he keeps trying through the whole book. and when garak mostly-gently but reflexively and firmly rebuffs him each time he tries… after a while it seems like he doesn't think he's welcome, or that he's imposing and garak doesn't really want him there — that he's just humoring him or something when he does let him in, just like garak was so afraid palandine was doing with him in the beginning. it’s only in the final scene between them that garak invites him in and asks for help on his own initiative.

“I’m pleased you stopped by”/”No, you’re not,” he said quietly. ‘I really won’t take up any more of your time’. “You see, this is so difficult, Garak. I know what a private person you are, and how you detest people meddling in your affairs….”. “Your holosuite program. The one that allows me to visit the traumas of my childhood.”/“I hesitate to suggest this, remembering how you reacted the last time … but, yes, I feel it could make a difference,” the Doctor gamely admitted. (Julian I love you so much. Eternal optimist hours. Keep it up it’s going to get you spectacularly laid if you just get on that shuttle to Cardassia.) All these moments do not read to me as someone who has no interest in continuing or deepening this relationship (maybe the opposite, in fact), it gives me more the sense of someone who feels he keeps putting his foot in his mouth and making the damage worse no matter what he tries, and not knowing what else to do but to back off to save them both more pain. (he also needs help and support, but he’s not going to go ask it of someone who’s clearly in no position to give it (on account of visibly falling apart even more than usual). And also because the good doctor is such a hypocrite lol ‘of course you’re worth asking for and receiving help!! I’m just fine tho don’t worry about me *light is slowly dying in his eyes behind the smile as the seasons go on*’. Stiff upper lip to the point of psychological breakdown-off (cross-cultural, competitive))

and the most painful thing to me is that after their disastrous tea party in garak’s shop, at the very least, garak clearly realizes he's hurting julian by keeping him out (But as to the question of which group suffers the most…), and he desperately wants to stop hurting him but he just doesn't know how!!! he's never learned how to close the distance! he's been locked completely into himself by the way tain shaped him and doesn't know how to get out of the closet so to speak yet! ('...am I not. *supposed* to pretend to be functional and have no needs. is that not like. my entire job interpersonally. I am confused.') it’s something Tolan already observes in him and grieves over when he comes home from Bamarren, and the years since have uh not helped with that particular problem lol. for all he longs for it, intimacy is like a hot stove to him; he can’t help but reach out, and he can’t help but flinch away when he actually comes into contact with it. almost the worst part is that I think Julian can tell some of that too and sort of understands it/doesn't hold it against him, and it just makes it even sadder, somehow. they both move so carefully around each other through this, because even in the middle of all that they really do try to be kind to each other the best they know how and it fucks me up so bad. which makes it even crazier and more touching that all of asit is basically garak processing his shit until he can get to the last line honestly — 'You're always welcome, Doctor'. he pulled a full lizardly mr darcy in the post-apocalypse here, he got around to starting to fix himself at least partly to be in a place where he could be able to meet Julian in the ways he needs if he wants that from him. And that drives me utterly insane thanks for asking!!! WILD BOOK COMPLETELY UNHINGED 300+ PAGE DECLARATION OF LOVE AND INTIMACY WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL

(this post started life as a tag ramble under @spocks-kaathyra‘s wonderful post about Julian’s side of it over here, but — as I’m sure you'll be astonished to learn at this point — I found I somehow had even more things to say, my neurons boileth over perpetually and it seems I just have to live with that)

#garashir #star trek #star trek ds9 #a stitch in time #asit #ds9 #julian bashir #elim garak #ds9 meta #I suspect I will have to write fiction about it to completely exorcise this particular hell from my mind (that is often the way for me)#but at least I can let out some steam to lower the pressure within my skull in the meantime lol

83 notes · View notes

suguruplsr · 7 months

Note

Don’t be shy. Make reader and shoko kiss

Lovers !

✰ ✰ ✰ her lips looked so enticing.. but you don’t know how to kiss ! don’t worry , she’ll teach you <3

જ⁀➴ i hear you i see you i love this <3

,, shoko x fem!reader , fluff , kiss , pt1 , pt2

“and he was complaining about his stitches! i can’t stand people who.. “ you watched shoko’s pretty lips move, lost in thought as she ranted about some guy she was taking care of earlier. her lips had a tint to them, probably the glossy pink lip gloss she always puts on in the morning, sitting on the left side of the bathroom where she keeps most of her makeup. but only leaving the small tube out to never forget where it is and you know she’s told you once or twice about how she even keeps another one in her pocket and purse.

shoko’s lips weren’t big, small but at the perfect size. you were sure they were soft from the occasional cheek kisses she gave you, or when she’d adore your hand and place kisses on your knuckles. she even indulges herself in the collection of your random flavors of chapsticks that family members, and satoru, have given you on christmas. always watching her when she quickly applies the cherry coca cola flavor over her lips before bed.

it was always endearing to see her stand beside the bed with impatience, simply observing as she put on so many coats, trying to get the right amount so her lips didn’t feel even a tinge of dryness. you’ve counted it so many times. three coats, rub it in, four coats, wipe the corners, then one more for good luck. or maybe because she knows her regular way of putting it on, and wants it to be an even amount of coats. but six was too little.

it never crosses your mind of how you think a bit deeper into the things she does. you’ve only learned it from being with her, not only as a lover, but also as a friend. if she makes eggs, she always picks four rather than three, maybe six if satoru and suguru eats with you two. if she’s looking at the ground in thought, she never walks on cracks. sometimes she takes long strides along the dorm to step on every other tile. you’ve found amusement in her odd ways, she wasn’t ‘loud’ about it, but it was always there.

“what’s so interesting?” shoko diverts your attention to her with a soft tone, her face closer to yours as she study’s your eyes. “you.” the words leave your lips faster than you can realize, but you don’t correct yourself, they are true. and the small widening of her eyes before they softened was an added bonus. “how so?” she drinks some of her coffee, her hand that you held curled before intertwining. a small movement she always does, as if hesitant.

“you’re odd. i like it. and your lips.” your vague description left her puzzled, yet she couldn’t help but bring a hand up to her lips in thought, “my lips?” “yes.” maybe you just can’t explain it? no, you were zoning out for a while. shoko bites her lips, earning a small tap on her wrist from you. you knew of her habit of biting them whenever she was bored or in thought. helping her by making her conscious of her actions before she could make her lip bleed within minutes.

catching onto her confusion, you sigh, “they’re pretty. i want to hold and love them. just like your hand.” your little words of frustration have a laugh escaping shoko’s lips, making your frown dissipate before it could even appear. “really? you can just kiss them.” she has a teasing edge, giving you a sly grin as she brings your hand up to her lips. beyond embarrassed, you scoffed, glancing away.

“i don’t know how to kiss.. not on the lips.” you grumbled quietly, feeling shoko reach over the table and turn your head towards her, her fingers felt so warm yet soft, as if grazing your jaw with carefulness. “do you want me to teach you..?” shoko whispers, smiling when she could finally realize how flustered you were from your small fidgeting movements and holding her hand firmly. unable to look in her eyes. “i’d like that.. please.” you hum, almost concerned by how eager she leans over the table.

shoko holds your face tighter, hers only inches away while her lips are just so close. it makes your breath hitch. “when you want to kiss someone, and mean it. you hold their gaze, only you two should have each other’s attention.” she hums, then tilting your head as her hands sneakily ghost down your neck, holding you to look up at her. it made your skin crawl, but not in a bad way, far from that.

as if chasing your lips, she leans down, her longer hair almost trapping you two in the comfort of your shared moment. “then you slowly meet their lips..and…” shoko finally seals your lips together. it felt like something inside you melted, your eyes immediately closing as you held her arms, not wanting for it to end. shoko smiles against your lips, following in suit and holding firmly to savor the moment before either of you could pull away.

feeling yourself lose your breath, you hum, a small gasp leaving your mouth when she separates. “and then you tell them how that kiss was amazing..” shoko sighs breathlessly, her lips were almost puffy, eyes looking at you with so much adoration. her eyes seem to twinkle when she realizes the haze she left you in. “sho..” you voice was barely above a whisper, licking your lips and tasting her strawberry gloss.

“it couldn’t have been that good.” shoko chuckles, giving a small poke on your cheek before going to sit back down. “wait..” you stop her with a huff, standing up and walking around the table, gently pushing her into the chair and tilting her head back with a hand on her head.

“i want to try now..”

155 notes · View notes

writeforfandoms · 9 months

Text

Waking Lions 8

Find the series masterlist

You meet the rest of the 141 officially, learn a few things, and definitely put Kate on your shit list.

Warnings: Swearing, blood, stitches, medical hand-waving, more swearing, Ace is not having a good time.

Word count: 1.9k

You hated to admit it, but he had been right. You did feel better after you slept. You’d refused the offer of borrowed clothes, needing to keep your own on you. You had no idea what time it was - your phone had died overnight.

But before you could go to the door and try it, it opened. The dark-skinned young man you’d helped all those months ago in Morocco stood there, smile in place.

“Good, you’re up. Come on, you’re expected.”

“By whom?” You pulled your shoulders back, tipping your chin up. Projecting strength you didn’t feel.

But he just smiled, motioning for you to follow. “His office is just down here.”

You huffed. “Should’ve let you bleed out in the street,” you muttered to yourself, though you did follow him.

“I never did thank you for that.”

You startled a little - you hadn’t thought he could hear you. “It’s fine. Don’t mention it.”

“You really helped me then.” He paused in front of a door, turning earnest eyes on you. “So, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” You shifted, uncomfortable, and nodded to the door.

He opened the door without further ado and waved you in first. You got in two steps and slowed. Because of course this was Captain’s office. Of course it was.

“Captain,” you drawled with a mockery of your normal smile. “What accusations are we throwing around today?”

“None.” He watched you closely, eyes just a little narrowed, before he waved to a seat across his desk. “Sit.”

You debated standing, just to be obstinate. But you sat. Because you were still a little woozy.

“This is good intel.” He tapped the notebook sitting in front of him. “Laswell told me you brought her the lead on Shepherd, as well.”

“Does it matter?” You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

His lips twitched down, just a little. “You’re good at your job. Laswell suggested bringing you in on this, and after seeing what you’ve got, I’m inclined to agree.”

“And you think that after whatever stunt you pulled last night that I’ll be willing to work for you?” You raised both eyebrows at him.

“Wasn’t sure you could be trusted.” His eyes were hard and unapologetic. “You’d understand if you’d ever been betrayed.”

“You make an awful lot of assumptions for a man who doesn’t know me, Captain.” You curled your lips in a sneer, hands clenched around your arms. You hadn’t wanted to hit anyone so bad in ages.

He was quiet for a few long moments, eyeing you. “You asked why, last night.”

You clenched your jaw tight at the reminder of that weakness, but you nodded once.

“I needed to see how you’d defend yourself.” His lips turned up, just a little. “Threw me off when you didn’t.”

“Laswell didn’t tell you everything. Just what she thought you needed to know.”

“That much is clear.” He leaned back in his chair slowly, steepling his fingers together.

“What was the plan?” you asked, unable to help yourself. “Interrogate me? Try to scare me into submission?”

“Something like that.” He shrugged. “Hard to know who to trust.”

That much, you did agree with. “Well you should take me right off that list.”

“I don’t think I should.”

“You absolutely should. You should also throw me out of your base, while you’re at it.”

He had the audacity to smile, like you were amusing. “Nah. Don’t think I will, love.”

You twitched. Not quite a full flinch. But a little twitch. Damn it all, but you couldn’t not feel something when he called you that. Despite the fact that you knew it meant nothing. That you meant nothing.

“See, I think you like people to think you’re flighty.” He leaned forward slowly, gaze pinning you in place. “You’ve built your reputation up over years. You do good work, solid work, but you never stay in one place. Good way to keep from getting attached.”

“Good way to keep from getting shot,” you shot back, shoulders so tense they hurt, chin up.

“But you’re loyal, to some very few people. Laswell, for one.” He waited a beat, but you had no defense for that. Because he was right. “You’d be a hell of an asset.”

Your jaw clenched tight for a moment and you swallowed. “I’ll think about it,” you hedged. “Where’s the exit?”

“You’re not leaving yet.”

“Like hell I’m not.”

“Kate made me promise to keep you for a few days, make sure you’re healing up alright.”

“If she’s so damn concerned, I’ll go show her myself, thanks.”

“Ace.” He didn’t back down, holding firm under your glare. “You’re staying. Sergeant Garrick will show you to your room.”

You nearly hissed. “No names,” you reminded him sharply.

“You know the names of the people you work for.” He smirked suddenly. “Except mine.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” You stood, turning towards the door. You needed to go. You needed to get out. Immediately.

“John Price.”

You froze just shy of the door. You didn’t need any elaboration. Captain John Price. The name wiggled itself into place in your heart, like it had always belonged there. But you denied both of you the pleasure of his name. “Captain.” Without looking back, you swept out of the room, Garrick close behind you.

“Make a left,” Garrick instructed. You followed, for now. Just until you could work out the best way to get out on your own. “Now a right.” You grit your teeth but did it. “Yours is here, on the right.” Garrick stopped in front of a door, pushing it open a little. “Shout if you need anything.” His smile was warm and a bit sympathetic as you walked past him into the room.

You shut the door without replying. As much as you wanted to throw yourself on the bed, you didn’t - the last thing you needed was to tear your stitches. Instead, you sat carefully, plugging in your phone and listening hard around you. You couldn’t hear a lot. Either the base was bigger than you’d anticipated, or there were more walls separating you from the action, or there just weren’t that many people around.

More intel needed.

But the first order of business, before any of that…

GET ME OUT OF HERE.

It took Kate only a couple minutes to respond. Did he talk to you already?

Yes he did. Make him let me go. You glared down at your phone.

It will be just like working for me, but he’ll be able to make direct requests too.

You sighed, short and sharp. Not the point. I want to leave.

The response this time was slower coming, easily double the wait. In a few days. Heal up a bit first.

You snarled soundlessly and dropped your phone to the bed, angry and hurt and feeling a little betrayed yourself. This was not how things went. This was not the norm, and you didn’t want it to be the norm.

You didn’t want to be anywhere near Captain John Price, where he could hurt you more.

You never should have looked into that Russian company.

The back of your head thumped somewhat gently against the wall behind you. Okay. Laswell wasn’t going to help you. None of your contacts would be helpful here.

You were on your own.

You’d barely gotten into planning when someone knocked on the door, and then popped it open an inch without waiting for an invitation.

“Lunch for you!” a cheerful voice called, accented but differently.

“Fine,” you agreed slowly, scooting back on your bed. Hypothetically, if Captain had been telling the truth, you had nothing to fear from this man.

But you weren’t feeling particularly charitable towards Captain at the moment, certainly not enough to just take him at his word.

The man who entered was tall with a mohawk, bright eyes, and a cheerful smile. “Ace, is it?”

“Mmhm.” You eyed him for a moment, sitting cross-legged on your bed. This was turning out to be one of those times that you really wished you had more self-defense training.

“I’m Soap.” He handed you a tray of food, which you took carefully. “Heard you’ll be staying with us for a few days.”

“That’s what I’m told.” You forced your voice lighter, working hard to get back into your normal headspace. Since you were stuck here, you weren’t going to give them the satisfaction of watching you suffer.

“I’ll show you around after you eat.” He grinned, grabbing the desk chair and sitting backwards in it. “Make sure you don’t get lost.”

“I don’t imagine I’ll have much need of that information,” you said mildly, watching him even as you started eating.

But he just grinned at you and started talking, launching straight into a list of a few of his favorite places he’d visited. You didn’t interrupt, just listening as you ate. Until–

“Wait. Hold up. You ate there?” You couldn’t quite keep the horror out of your voice.

He paused, blinking. “Aye?”

“No. Unacceptable. That place charges double what they should, and it’s only okay food! Next time you need to go to–can you hand me that–yes, thank you.” You took the pen and paper he handed to you, scribbling down the name and address. “This place is much better. The owners are the sweetest people, too.”

“Thanks.” He looked surprised, taking the note. “I’ll try it if I get back there.”

“I insist.” You pushed your tray away. “Now, if you’d be kind enough to show me to medical, that should be all I need.”

He chuckled, standing. “Captain wants you familiar with the base,” he said, shrugging. “We’ll stop by medical but you’re getting the full tour, hen.”

Your eyes narrowed. You needed to get out of here. Immediately. “I see.” You stood carefully, taking a moment to check in with yourself. Side still hurt, but no worse than this morning. You did feel steadier, at least, less woozy. That would have to be enough for now. “Very well. Lead on, then.”

He winked and held the door open for you. You refused to be charmed, even when he started chattering again immediately, walking you around the base.

It was smaller than you would have guessed, likely a satellite base for a larger location, or a covert location. It was also quiet. Not too many people around, then. Hmm. Interesting.

Soap was easy company as he led you around, sticking close to you. How much of that was per Captain’s orders you weren’t sure, but it was only a little annoying, so you let it go.

At least until he led you into a room, ushering you over to a set of chairs. A briefing room, if you had to guess.

“What’s this about?” you asked slowly, taking a seat, frowning a little.

“You’ll see.” Soap plopped himself down into the chair next to you.

And then Captain walked in with Garrick and the masked one from the night before. Your good mood slid away and you scowled.

Fuck.

#waking lions #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

216 notes · View notes

flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

Note

Hello there, how is your day?? Can I ask for one fic for drider boyfriend series where he made reader wear his web silk (as a dress) which is very rare in his community as it shows that the person wearing it is their mate and so far the humans are only kept as pet by drider community......and reader is looking so sweet and cute wrapped up in the web silk that whole community is cooing and praising them for being a good human mate??? I found ur works yesterday and I'm obsessed.... really u are great!!! Thanx ❤

My day was good, thanks for asking! I had a cup of tea and my cat is sleeping on my lap. This is actually a long one because I like this idea a lot <3 Your drider boyfriend also gets a name in this one ^_^

Word count: 1.5K

W: sfw monster fluff

Fluff Masterpost

Tip Jar

“Oh no,” your drider grumbled as he cradled you on his chest. He’d made a little hammock for the two of you and you were curled up on him listening to his heartbeat while he knitted. You weren’t sure what he was referring to until you heard a scrabble that usually meant a drider was coming.

“Vass!” a soft voice filled the darkness and another set of eyes, these glowing yellow hovered nearby.

“Uh…hello Strix, what brings you here?” Vass asked, but he didn’t sound like he was really very interested.

The other drider tossed a wad of silk at him and he had to grab you with two legs and pull you away to avoid getting hit with it. His knitting tumbled off of his lap and ended up tangled over some threads. He examined the fabric in his other arms, fingering the material.

“You haven’t been practicing your weaving Strix,” he said, frowning, “this is very rough. Do you want me to help you fix it?”

He shook out the fabric and it appeared to be some kind of garment made of white silk, but the neckline was all crooked and the stitching was visible in the uneven sleeves. The intruding drider looked horrified.

“No!” he snapped, “it’s for the mating ceremony…f-for…for you!”

All of Vass’s eyes narrowed.

“No means no Strix!” he growled, “I don’t care what my mother says, I’m not mating with you!”

“B-but she said you just needed some time…and a romantic gesture…I don’t understand…she said…” his tone got harder, “I already worked this all out with her! She said you would learn to love me and you would return to the castle with me so we can rule!”

Vass tossed the garment back at Strix.

“I haven’t spoken to my mother in ten years,” he snapped back, “and I don’t appreciate having my life meddled with. I told my mother that when I left, and I’m telling you now. I don’t plan on mating a drider and becoming regent. I want a simple life here in the country. Nothing you or she says or brings me is going to change that! Tell her if she wants you to rule, she can adopt you! Now you need to go!”

Strix looked like he was going to argue but Vass grabbed a knitting needle and brandished it, so the drider thought better of it and scuttled away.

Your drider huffed, examining his ruined knitting and tossed whatever he had been working on to the side. It was tangled beyond salvation.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, brushing your cheek with his thumb, “I thought my mother had given up on controlling my life…but I guess not…”

You gave him a sympathetic nod. You would give him some words of encouragement, but he still kept you gagged except for when you were eating. A look of affection and then determination crossed his face as he traced your nose with the pad of his thumb.

He patted your head and hung you back up on his web, out of the way, while he set himself to weaving something new with his silk. You could only watch his back muscles flex as he cut and sewed fabric. You fell asleep watching him work late into the early hours.

–

You woke early the next day to the drider humming happily. He smiled at you with a knowing look while he fed you your breakfast and was practically skipping over the threads of his web while he cleaned your face and body. He spent especially long braiding the threads of your hair into an intricate style. Finally, with a big grin he tugged your clothes off of you like you were just a doll, pulling something soft and silky over your head.

“Do you like it?” he asked, stepping back so you could inspect what he’d dressed you in.

It was a lovely dress, the silk delicate but still crisp forming a bell shape around you. He’d somehow woven texture into it and a slightly raised pattern of vines and flowers covered you from your neck to your knees. He pushed your feet into some soft booties to match and spun you around in his arms. He seemed very pleased with his outfit and you couldn’t help but share in his joy. It was very pretty. You felt tiny and delicate next to his larger, more rugged form.

“We have some place special to go today,” he said, “you don’t have to wear a collar if you promise to hold my hand and be very good and quiet.”

You nodded. It was very unlikely you were going to escape this city of driders who seemed to like to keep humans as pets. If you got away from Vass, someone else would take you as their own or you would be sent to a shelter. It was depressing, yes, but you’d had some time to digest the information and Vass kept you full and warm enough that it started to bother you less and less. His face, which had once frightened you, had gotten familiar, handsome even with his many soulful eyes, despite his large teeth.

You’d promised to hold his hand, but Vass carried you in his arms to the large plaza where many other driders were gathering. Like you, many of them were dressed in beautiful robes. They weren’t all white, but it kind of made you proud that yours was. It stood out, not just because of the color but because Vass’s craftsmanship was far beyond any of the others. They seemed to all be organized in pairs, except the ones around the edges of the area who were fanning themselves and lounging in the shade.

“Did you dress your pet up for the ceremony?” an older drider cooed at Vass, “They look so sweet, just like a mate!”

Vass had a very smug look on his face.

“I’m mating them,” he announced and your eyes got wide.

The drider chuckled and waved her hand.

“The youth today,” she laughed, “what will they think of next?”

You got a few strange looks as Vass made his way through the crowd, but mostly driders stopped Vass to compliment your robe and try and pinch your cheeks.

“I’m here to register my mate,” Vass said to the drider standing behind a large open ledger at the front of the court.

His eyes didn’t even look at you.

“They have to be present to sign their name,” he said evenly.

Vass pushed you forward.

“They are right here,” he said, patting you on the head.

The drider’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly but he shrugged and handed you a pen.

“Sign here,” he said.

You had to lean up on your tiptoes to scribble your name next to Vass’s.

The drider took the pen back from you and smiled.

“It is awfully cute when they pretend to be like us,” he admitted, “with their two little legs. How can they even walk?”

He fished around in a basket and pulled out a ribbon, fastening it in your hair and then waved at another drider.

“Arad come see this! This guy has his human dressed up as a mate, it’s so cute!”

Vass lifted his nose, but let them lift your arms and spin you around to look at your outfit.

“Dumpling is my mate!” he grumbled indignantly.

The drider held up his hands apologetically.

“Whatever makes you happy, friend,” the drider said, “I have to say this is my first mating ceremony with a human mate, but it's pretty precious. You’re going to start a trend.”

He leaned down to your level and patted you on the head.

“Do you want to light the fire, little one?” he asked.

His friend grabbed his shoulder.

“Delphon, really? This is a religious ceremony,” he scoffed, but the drider waved him away.

“Come on, it’s harmless and it’ll be cute! Look how pretty it is in its little dress and its even wearing the mating ribbon. Who’s gonna object?”

That’s how you ended up shaking, standing in front of a hundred paired driders holding a candle after Delphon delivered the mating speech declaring you were linked to the drider until death. You had to stand on your tiptoes again to hold the flame up to the ceremonial pyre symbolizing the start of the futures of all of the mates gathered, including your own.

A round of applause went up signaling that you’d completed the mission and you turned around to find Vass beaming at you. He swept you up in his arms and spun you around.

“That was perfect, dumpling!” he said, smooching you on the head.

You would have happily head home to go back to your warm snuggle, but the driders swarmed you. Everyone wanted pictures with the adorable human mate that lit the mating pyre. Finally, as the sun set, Vass carried you home fast asleep on his back, flipping through the pictures he took of the two of you on his phone with a smile on his face.

#monster x girl #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster lover #human x monster #monster #drider #drider boyfriend #drider x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere fluff #monster fluff #sfw fluff

927 notes · View notes

pedropascallme · 8 months

Note

HIII ok i adored ur Jim fic i love him SOO BADDDD WAHHH !!!! i was wondering if i could request a Jim smut of some kind??? i’m a trans man so i would love an afab reader w gender neutral/masc pronouns but of course only whatever ur comfy w:) and if u don’t wanna do that anything else jim related pls i love him SOOOO BADDD!!!! okay sorry for the huge block of text ily and ur work is god tier bro.

The New Normal

Pairing: Jim x gn!afab!Reader

Summary: "You felt the sudden urge to kiss him, to grab him and pull him close to you, tell him to join you in the shower. "

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), oral (m & f receiving), fingering, p in v sex, praise kink, kinda almost soft!dom Jim? Reader is AFAB but no use of gendered pronouns, uhhh brief allusion to 9/11 blink and you'll miss it, if I missed anything please let me know!

AN: Max NEVER apologize for asking for Jim smut I am ALWAYS looking for a reason to write Jim smut. Also forgive the cross tagging but the only way I will ever reach other Cillian sluts is if I use the Thomas Shelby tag.

America was different than you’d expected it to be.

In the shows and movies, there wasn’t much diversity; either you were on a farm, or you were in the big city. The speech patterns were always overdramatized, too, and when you first reached the McGuire base in New Jersey, you were a bit disappointed when nobody shouted that “they were walkin’ he-ya!” Even more disappointed when you reached Brooklyn and were told that the accent was of a dying variety.

But in the grand scheme of things, it was so…normal. It was England before the outbreak, but with smaller busses and slower trains. You didn’t really know how to feel about it, about how the rest of the world carried on so unconcerned while the island you grew up in fell to pieces. In a way, relieved, but a small part of you felt almost offended that nobody was holding constant vigils.

What offended you more, though, was the realization that the process of being granted asylum was not something that happened quickly. While you were appreciative to Hannah’s distant cousins who had agreed to sponsor you while you awaited the business to be over—which could take years, you’d learned—you were nauseated that you still had to prove yourself in order to be allowed to stay. The lawyers, doctors, soldiers, and judges you’d met with explained that the process would go smoothly, that it was something that had to be done, not due to the nature of the thing you were escaping, but due to those who might abuse any leniency the country showed.

The world really hadn’t changed at all.

~~~

“Finished already?” You hummed at Jim when he walked through the door. Hannah’s family had taken you all shopping when you first arrived—a relief, really, to be able to change out of the fatigues the air force had given you—and Jim, despite his usual attire being casual, at best, looked so…handsome, now, with his skin not caked in blood, or dirt, or sweat. His hair was growing back in and he was wearing jeans that actually fit him. His shirt read “I<3NY” and even though you told him it looked ridiculous when he had first picked it up, you couldn’t deny that it hugged his arms in the right places.

“Not much to be done. You stitched me up so well.” He smiled at you, crossing the apartment to join you on the couch. “Doctor said he’d like to meet you.”

“I’ve met too many people this month.” You curled your legs up under you and stretched your arms over your head. “Never thought I’d say it, but I miss the apocalypse.” You leaned your head back.

Jim exhaled through his nose, amused, leaning himself back on the couch to face you. “No, you don’t.”

“I don’t,” You agreed, “It’s just…”

“Too much, too soon.”

“I guess.” You stared at each other for a while, not moving, not speaking. “I wish I could fast forward.” Jim tilted his head into the cushion he was leaning on, prompting you to continue. “I want to be used to it by now. Wanna be able to walk down the street and see a missing poster and still have hope.” You shuddered when you remembered the posters plastered on the train station walls, how familiar one disaster could feel when compared to another. “I want to feel normal. Everything here is so normal. Why am I not normal yet?” You didn’t have the energy to continue pouring over your emotions, perfectly fine with leaving it on that note.

“You’re not normal.” Jim leaned forward. “Neither am I. Neither is Hannah—s’got nothing to do with—” He waved around the two of you, implying the ordeal you’d lived through. You nodded in agreement. “And we’ll never be their kind of normal. Might just be ‘cause we’re English. Heard they had a war with us here, way back.” Jim deadpanned, and you smiled at him.

“I think I just need a shower.” You sighed, still looking at him. You felt the sudden urge to kiss him, to grab him and pull him close to you, tell him to join you in the shower. You felt your skin flush at the thought. You hadn’t been able to do much of anything but go to different meetings since you got here. One after another, it had made it difficult to find time for yourself, let alone time for you and Jim. Stolen kisses here and there, cuddles under the sheets of your bed, calling out “I love you” before the door closed behind you—there had been no time to enjoy each other.

Not to mention, you lived in a rented apartment with thin walls, and Hannah’s room was next to yours.

You hesitated to get up, and Jim sensed your delay. He brought a hand up to your hair, petting you.

“Hannah’s gone for the night. Sleepover.” You muttered, trying to be sly instead of asking for anything outright. Jim cocked a brow in jest.

“Just us, then?”

“Just us.” You confirmed. Tension formed between the two of you, and you swallowed.

“We can—can I join you in the shower?” His words were rushed, and he looked down when he spoke, only looking back up at you to gage your reaction once the question was complete. “You can say n—”

“Yes.” You felt breathless.

~~~

It was almost laughable, the two of you getting undressed together. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, a shared bedroom holds plenty of space for two people to dress and undress in front of each other, but the expectation made all the difference. Jim’s “I<3NY” shirt was now discarded on the floor, his jeans unbuttoned as he helped you out of your own outfit. Your mouth fell open slightly when he peeled your shirt off of you, the feeling of his hands leaving a warm trail over your sides and a wet feeling between your legs. You reached for the waistband of his jeans, looping your fingers over the denim and into the boxers he wore underneath and beginning to pull down. He laughed quietly as he watched you struggle to move them down his waist.

“Don’t have to do all the work.” He placed his hands over yours and helped you remove his clothes. In turn, he found the button of your jeans and quickly undid them, letting you pull down the tight material and exposing yourself to him. All that remained were your panties, and Jim let out a low whistle when he reached out to brush the lace with his knuckles. “Pretty baby.”

You pushed against his chest lightly. “Shower.” You reminded him, but at this point it didn’t really matter to you. You whined slightly when his hand fell lower over your sex, nearly cupping you.

“Got all night.” He pulled down the remaining fabric, leaving you completely naked for him. And that’s how you felt—naked. Almost scared, as if now that your underwear was off and you were stripped completely, he would reconsider and not want this anymore—not want you anymore. You realized how stupid that sounded when Jim stood up at eye-level, grinning at you. You looked at him sheepishly as you stepped out of the panties pooled at your feet and toward him. You reached out to trace what remained of the wound on his abdomen, letting your fingers kiss the spots you hoped to eventually place your mouth on.

Suddenly you were in his arms, swooped up bridal style as he walked you into the bathroom. You heard yourself laugh nervously, and you buried your face into his neck. Feeling bold, you licked a stripe up to his pulse point, and he shuddered.

“Don’t wanna drop you.” He protested your action, but he lifted his head slightly to allow you better access. You did it again, letting your tongue linger and drift to his earlobe, nipping at it, feeling more and more comfortable with each step Jim took. He sighed dreamily, then placed you down on your feet next to the tub. He turned the handle, pulling the curtain back and taking your hand to guide you under the water. You all but pulled him in after you, and though he stumbled at first, he found his footing right in front of you. You watched the way the water seemed the frame his face; droplets running down his cheekbones and off of his chin. You kissed him, letting the water fall over your face, tasting it when you opened your mouth to welcome his tongue. You sighed into his mouth, a perfect combination of his taste and that of the water settling on your taste buds, and it went straight to your core. He leaned away from you, wrapping an arm around your waist and examining how the water matched the curve of your breasts. He kissed your chest, sucking on the skin just enough to make faint spots appear. You combed your fingers through his hair, closing your eyes.

“Normally,” He licked over what would soon become a dark purple spot, “I use the shower to wash up—reflect, sometimes.” He kissed his way up your chest and neck before straightening himself out and kissing your nose. “This is a much better use of my time.” You rolled your eyes, putting gentle pressure on his neck to encourage him to lean down and kiss you. He pulled you tighter to him, and you could feel his erection against your thigh. He pushed against you, enjoying the bit of friction you provided him, and you heard him grunt quietly. His hands found purchase on your ass, squeezing the flesh gently and using the angle to draw you even closer.

“Y’know—oh!” You were cut off by an especially hard squeeze as Jim’s hands continued to roam over your ass, “I do need—I need to wash my hair…”

“Tomorrow.” Was all Jim said, reaching between your bodies to place his cock where your stomach met his crotch. You gasped at the heavy feeling of him against you, and your own hand made its way down to grab hold of him. Jim choked on his own breath, eyes fluttering shut when you began to move your wrist up and down his length. Out of curiosity, you looked down to watch your ministrations, wanting to fully enjoy the view that you had so desperately craved for so long. His cock was long, and you could see and feel the veins that ran up the extent of his shaft to the pink of his tip. You moaned quietly at the sight, hoping Jim didn’t think you pathetic for the pleasure you got out of stroking him. His mouth agape, he shut his eyes tight, trying not to think about how good your hand felt. You kneeled before him, and planted a kiss on his head, licking a stripe over him.

“O—h,” he was panting, “Fuck, baby.” You watched his chest rise and fall dramatically as you took his tip between your lips, swiping your tongue over and around it a few times before beginning to inch the rest of him inside of your mouth. You moved your head up and down, gagging slightly when you felt the pressure of holding him too deep for too long against the back of your throat. “Oh, fu—yeah, that’s it. Good, baby, so good.” You hummed in appreciation of his praise, the vibrations making him bite his lip and furrow his brow in concentration, desperately trying to ward off his high before he had gotten to explore you fully. You pulled your mouth off of his cock with a pop that softly echoed in the shower, and he watched as you planted more kisses along him.

He grabbed your chin and tilted your head up to look at him. The vision in front of you made you feel dizzy; Jim breathing hard, cock bobbing against his stomach, wet from your spit and from the shower, hair falling over his ears, draped in a blanket of water. You rubbed your thighs together, now pruned hand resting on his knee for, what? Permission, maybe?

Jim helped you up from the floor, and you watched him turn the shower handle. In the brief moment before the water stopped completely, it turned freezing cold, and you felt goosebumps erupt over you. You brought yourself closer to Jim, both in an attempt to find warmth and in a silent plea that he continue what had begun in the shower.

Dripping wet—in more ways than one—you found yourself back in your bedroom. Lying on your back, Jim looked over you, then began kissing over the marks he had made on you in the shower. You whimpered, a hand finding his hair and lacing your fingers through his short locks. You pulled slightly when his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, and he groaned in pleasure at the sensation. His hand slowly traced down your stomach, fingers delicately finding their way to your clit before pressing on it lightly.

“Jim—!” Your exclamation motivated him to continue. He sat up a bit, kneading your bud with one hand and holding your cheek in another, holding eye contact as he slid one finger into your soaking wet center. You threw your head back, only then realizing that you hadn’t even had the time to pleasure yourself in God only knows how long. He curled his finger upwards, and your back arched into him. He smirked, clearly proud of what he was doing to you. He shuffled backwards on the bed, still pumping a finger in and out of you while he positioned himself between your legs. You felt the mattress shift under his weight when he straightened himself out onto his stomach, propped up with one elbow.

“So pretty.” You felt his breath fanning over your cunt, and you squirmed. Jim leaned into you, kissing your inner thighs while you wiggled your hips in an attempt to get his attention where you needed it the most. When he finally licked a lazy stripe over your clit, you let out an absentminded sigh, pushing yourself up to him in encouragement. He removed his finger from you, and you whined at the sudden empty feeling, though he immediately made up for the absence of his fingers with his tongue. He continued to lap at you, letting your slick coat his chin, nose brushing your clit. He sucked lightly on your bud, and your hands found his hair again, not sure if you wanted to push him in further, let him taste you until you screamed, or push him away, as your thighs began to tremble. He slid two fingers back into you and twisted them back and forth while his tongue darted over your clit. You squeezed his fingers, moans spilling from your mouth.

“C’mon baby, so good,” he removed his mouth from your core to coo at you, “wanna see you cum for me.” It was whispered into your skin, and you felt his words echo through your body. His lips found their place over your clit once more, and he sucked harder, fingers pumping in and out of you faster.

“Oh, ye—yes, like that, like that, please!” You couldn’t stop talking, couldn’t stop begging if you tried. Had falling over the edge always felt this good? You didn’t stop to ponder it, busy feeling your body fall victim to the pleasure Jim was gifting you. You moaned, trying to grab at the man who had buried himself between your legs, but he was fully content to stay where he was until he knew you’d ridden out your orgasm. You cried out his name, back arching, body granting him even more access to your pussy, and when you felt him moan at the taste of you, you came hard for him. He placed soft kisses over your cunt, and you couldn’t help the moan you let out when he began pulling his fingers out of you.

You were still panting when he kissed you. Your arms came to rest around his neck, breathing heavily through your nose as you slipped your tongue into his mouth. “Taste so good,” Jim was also clearly short of breath, “you taste that, baby?” His lips found yours again, and he let you suck gently on his tongue, let you taste yourself on him. You shivered; it felt so dirty, Jim still damp with your wet, encouraging you to enjoy the taste your cum had left on him, dipping his tongue deep into your eager mouth and speaking to you like you belonged to him.

You did belong to him, and the thought made your eyes roll back into your head.

He pulled you into his arms, flipping over so that you were lying on top of him. You found the strength to push yourself up, hands planted on his chest, to straddle him. The feeling of his cock between your legs, still hard, and all for you, made you feel frantic, and you began to roll your hips over him, feeling him tense under you.

“That’s right,” he watched you with hooded eyes, “so eager.”

“Want you to fuck me.” You felt the tip of his cock push between your folds after one especially long roll of your hips, and you didn’t care if you looked pathetic anymore. You’d waited long enough; been so good, so ignorant of the forbidden fruit. One taste, and now you were helpless—completely at his mercy.

“God, say it again.”

“I want you to fuck me, Jim. Please.” You licked your lips before slipping the bottom one between your teeth. His eyes flitted over you, taking in the way you were begging, the way you sat bare, eagerly waiting for his cock. How had he let so much time pass before giving you what you both needed? He lifted you by the waist, encouraging you to stay kneeling above him slightly as he reached another hand down to line himself up with you. The split second before you lowered yourself down onto him felt like forever, but he watched, in awe of you, as you lowered yourself down onto him. You moaned for him when you felt his tip breach your hole, reaching for his chest and grasping at nothing while you continued to take him, inch by inch. You heard him groan out your name, breath going uneven when he finally bottomed out. You stayed like that for a moment, both of you in a trance-like state: You breathed in sync, gazing at each other, smiling like morons.

“I love you.” Jim whispered, placing a hand on your hip and squeezing. You leaned forward, steadying yourself on his shoulders.

“I love you.” You kissed him again, gentler, slower than the previous times. You did have all night—you had a lifetime of all nights with each other.

You began rocking back and forth slowly, allowing yourself time to adjust to the size of him, the feeling of being so full. You felt the tip of his cock brush against your g-spot almost immediately, making you gasp as you chased the feeling of his head nudging you closer to another high.

“God—fuck, you feel so good.” Jim praised, reaching the hand that wasn’t on your hip up to squeeze at your breasts. He licked his finger before bringing it back up, pinching your nipple and rolling over it with his thumb and forefinger. You moaned, back arching, and you started to bounce up and down on him. Your nails dug into the skin on his shoulders, but he didn’t seem to care, too busy bucking up into your cunt, drunk off the feeling of your juices dripping down his length and over his balls.

He moved both his hands over your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh of your curves, guiding your movements while you rode him.

“Cum for me again, baby. So good for me, one more time.” He started fucking up into you harder, the sweet noises you made spurring him on. “You can do it, yeah? So good—fuck—so good for me.” Now he was practically begging, slamming you down onto his cock while he pushed you towards another orgasm.

“I—oh, fuck, me, yes! Like that, Jim—yes!” You fell forward, curling yourself up on his chest and bringing your knees up slightly higher next to his ribs to allow him more ease, lifting you up and down. You mumbled incoherently into his neck, licking and kissing and nipping at him while he continued with deep, hard thrusts. You sucked a mark on his neck, and he groaned out your name, one hand coming down over your clit to coax a second orgasm from you.

“Fucking—oh, cum for me, baby. Cum on me like this.” And maybe it was the way you felt his fingers pushing bruises into your skin, or the way he breathlessly demanded you commit such a filthy act, or the way he seemed to be getting just as much enjoyment out of your pleasure as you were; but when you felt his cock pushed forcefully against your g-spot in time with the way he played with you clit, you couldn’t stop the scream that erupted from your lungs, or the way you chanted his name through sobs of pleasure. You clenched around him, squirming and sensitive and so full of his cock. You saw stars, saw how every second of your life had led to this moment, and when the shockwave of pleasure coursed through your body, all you could do was thank the man who had made you feel so good.

“Fu—ck, oh my god,” Jim groaned through clenched teeth, trying to delay his own orgasm so he could enjoy the way you squeezed him for as long as he could. He practically threw you down onto his cock, forcing himself as deep as you’d let him go, and at that moment, the only word that mattered to him was your name. “Where—where can I cum? Tell me, baby, where?” He was gasping, so close to the edge.

“Inside. Please, Jim, want it inside.” You knew it was reckless, knew you’d have to buy a pill later, but the pros far outweighed the cons.

Your words were all it took to send Jim hurtling over the precipice. He pushed himself deep into your cunt, painting your walls with his spend, both of you shivering at the feeling. You moaned quietly into his skin, and Jim wheezed as he took gulping breaths in an attempt to regulate his breathing. You felt his hand come to rest on your back, stroking up and down, the other coming up to your hair, tempting you out of your hiding spot, nuzzled in his neck.

“Ok?” He breathed.

“Mm.” You hummed, rubbing your cheek against his, comforted by the way your faces squished together. “More than ok.”

“I should’ve—I didn’t want you to feel, I d’know—” He couldn’t think of the right words. “I love you. Just wanted you to feel how much I love you.”

You smiled, fucked out and sleepy and satisfied. “You did a good job,” you kissed him, “did I?”

“More than good.” He smiled, throwing your own words back at you in reassurance.

“Will you stay inside a little longer?” You whispered, still relishing in the way he filled you up.

“God, yes,” Jim almost laughed, “don’t have to ask.” You ran your thumb over his cheek, eyelids heavy.

“Is this the new normal?” You posed the question, remembering your earlier rant.

“Yeah. Think so.” Jim splayed his hand out over your back.

“Good.”

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #jim 28 days later #28 days later fanfiction #28 days later #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #oppenheimer

113 notes · View notes

schrijverr · 4 months

Text

The Hearts of Gotham 7

Chapter 7 out of 7

Bruce makes the Justice League believe he has two hearts and is a manifestation of Gotham’s night to throw them off his secret identity, not trusting them. When the sound system breaks, he doesn’t come clean, but lies instead that he split into two to make Robin. From there it spirals as all the Robins make the lies grow and twist it in their own ways, until the truth comes out.

This fic is based on this post and inspired by Bouncing Baby Bat, or so the Justice League is led to believe... by EmpressGeek.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

Chapter 7: How It All Comes Crashing Down

Of course, nothing can last. Not that this was ever meant to last. Bruce always thought that the League would mess up and he could drop them and with that the charade. Or that he could give it up when he got more comfortable. Neither happened. And now he is still maintaining it. Though that is about to end.

It’s due to an unfortunate and unpredictable set of circumstances too.

If the Watchtower hadn’t exploded in their previous battle, if Clark hadn’t been hit with kryptonite, if Gotham hadn’t been the closest, if he could have reached his kids. Than none of this would have happened and he could have pretended to be a cryptid manifestation of Gotham’s night with two hearts for the rest of time.

Alas, it’s not meant to be and if he wants Superman to live, he’ll have to go to the Cave and cross his fingers that none of his kids are down there when he arrives with a big clunk of the League in tow.

So, here he is, tearing down the streets of Gotham in the Batmobile, Clark bleeding out in the backseat as Diana and Hal try to keep pressure on the wound, while Barry curses loudly and is of no particular help at all.

Because of course Superman would get hit with kryptonite shrapnel that lodged itself deep inside where they can’t reach, which meant he can’t recover. And of course he needs surgery, but the only kryptonite Bruce has on him is a weapon, not the surgical implement he has at a spare of at the Cave. And of course he can’t just let Superman die, because he actually likes the man.

Great.

Fucking fantastic.

He enters the right tunnel to the Cave, coming to a stop at the parking bay and throwing open the doors of the Batmobile. The Cave is luckily empty at first glance, so he just orders Clark to the medbay, ignoring how everyone starts to look around as he focuses on applying aid.

Now, Bruce has become a pretty good medic over the years. It’s a hazard of the job and he had to learn or die. And despite the fact that this is more difficult that setting a nose or stitching someone up, he’s pretty confident he can do this without Alfred, so he doesn’t have to blow his cover completely.

Bruce went to medical school for a year, that has to count for something right? He’s done field surgery before.

Clark is bleeding a lot and removing all the pieces is difficult, but Bruce honestly thinks he’s getting somewhere. The others are hovering over his shoulder, trying to get Clark to hang in there, and he has always worked better under pressure.

When the tides finally seem to turn, Bruce thinks that his decades as a vigilante and a dad have finally paid off culminating in this. Because after a tense 45 minutes, color is returning to Clark’s face and the bleeding has stopped.

Bruce bandages him up and mentally starts to calculate how quickly he can get them out of the Batcave, especially when Barry comments: “Where did you get a giant Penny? Or a T-rex for that matter. I feel like I should’ve asked about the T-rex first.”

“Cases,” he replies curtly, then adds: “Robin wanted to keep them,” because he has a reputation to maintain.

“You have a bunch of crazy shit here, Spooky. But also cool shit,” Hal concedes, poking around the evidence and the rest of the cave, making Bruce’s eye twitch.

He’s just about to lie that the others are somewhere among the stalactites sleeping so they have to be quiet and leave soon – because he might as well commit even more at this point – when there is a loud crash at the entrance to the Cave.

As he scrambles to find a way to signal whichever of his kids just came crashing in that it is a bad time, Dick’s voice rings out: “B are you okay? We saw your scuffle on the TV, so I came as soon as I noticed you were down here.”

Another crash, then Jason’s voice: “Don’t listen to him, dad! He’s being nice to hide that he’s been a fuck ass who ate the last of Alfred’s cookies!”

By that point, Dick comes sliding into view of the League. He’s in his socks, but dressed as if he came out of work (probably due to the cookies) and is sans mask. When he sees everyone his eyes widen and he scrambles to stop.

Jason, who is hot on his trail, slams into his back, making the two of them stumble. He catches his balance, then scowls: “What’ya do that for, Dickface?” then he looks up and sees the League as well, dumbly commenting: “Uh-oh.”

He too is dressed in street wear, but not the kind he wears when he’s out as Red Hood. Though Bruce notes the gun tucked into the back of his pants. There is also no mask on his face, but he’s still wearing shoes, probably caught Dick as he came in.

Bruce stands quietly to the side, not sure if he wants to get the attention back on him with the mess that has just been created right in front of them. While both the League and his two eldest sons just stare at each other for a moment.

A part of him wants to be upset that the Justice League knows now and he’ll have to face the embarrassment. Especially since it’s over something as silly as eaten cookies.

However, he can’t be angry. Jason called him dad again, he and Dick are screwing around, and both are comfortable enough to not only come crashing into the Manor for cookies, but also to come visit him in the Batcave. That’s worth more than his pride.

Besides his pride only grows when his sons are the first to recover. But it is Dick, who is the first to speak again. Apologetically he greets: “Oh, hi, uhm, we- we didn’t realize B had visitors over.”

“Sup, fuckers,” Jason adds.

Barry is the first of the League that manages to speak, dumbly saying: “You can take the masks off?” making both Dick and Jason laugh, while Bruce feels his own lip twitching slightly.

“Yeah, we can take ‘em off, Barry,” Dick answers him kindly, albeit a little amused.

Then it’s Clark, who speaks up from where he has been frowning. His face suddenly clears up and he points at them and exclaims: “I’ve interviewed you! You’re Dick Grayson-Wayne. What- What are you doing here?”

“Well, uhm, I accidentally stumbled in here?” Dick replies, knowing it likely won’t save him.

“That’s what you get for always being on the front of those gossip rags, Dickiebird,” Jason ribs his brother. “I don’t get recognized.”

Dick immediately turns to scowl at his brother: “You’re dead, that doesn’t count.”

“Totally does,” Jason informs him smugly.

Bruce decides to step in, before any of the horrified League members do, because that will only encourage Jason more. “Kids, please. Let’s all take a minute.”

By speaking up, he cut off any reactions by getting the attention back on him. A good idea in theory, but one that feels wrong when all the League member look at him. If he were a lesser man, he would have disappeared into the shadows of the Cave. He’s sure he has a grappler on him, he could take stepping off the medbay platform.

“Batman, what is happening?” Diana demands and Bruce would have been fine if it had been anyone but her asking.

He sighs, dawdles for a second as he fights the urge to pout and shrink away. Then makes the executive decision that he is too exhausted to try and salvage this situation. He never thought to make a contingency for this level of idiocy and he knows that there truly isn’t a real reason to keep it up for longer.

So, he pulls off his cowl, looking tiredly at the League as he says: “You just met two of my kids outside of the mask, because they’re having a fight over cookies.”

“Alfred’s cookies!” Jason corrects indignantly and Bruce does have to agree with that. He has shamelessly participated in fights over those cookies. So he gives Jason a small nod, which seems to mollify him.

“Bruce Wayne,” Hal exclaims. “Batman is Bruce fucking Wayne?”

“No,” Clark frowns. “I- I’ve interviewed Bruce Wayne dozens of times. He’s human. Completely human.”

Sometimes Bruce wonders why he works with a bunch of idiots, then realizes he sounds like Damian and quickly pushes the thought away. Though he can’t help but give Clark a deadpan look as he disables the sound system, maybe getting a little bit of joy out of the shocked eyes he gets in turn.

“You’re second heartbeat. It’s gone,” Clark says dumbly.

“Wait, is Batman going to give birth to another Robin? Because I don’t think I can be here for that,” Barry says in a panic and Bruce starts to think Damian might have a point, while Dick and Jason start dying of laughter.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce answers seriously: “I am not about to give birth, Barry. I have never given birth. I’m human. I’ve always been human. There never was a second heart.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Then the whole crowd explodes.

“What the fuck? What about all the little kids we met?”

“Batman, we’ve been working together for over two decades! How could you keep this from us?”

“I- I can’t believe I got punked by Batman.”

“Humans. Humans. I can’t believe- I-” Clark is the most shocked. Bruce almost feels bad, since he is his best friend and the man has been nothing but kind to him throughout all these years and he had no reason to lie.

“I’m sorry about lying, but it was the best way to work together,” Bruce tells them neutrally, though a little sorry too.

Jason, naturally, ruins his reputation immediately, slinging an arm around his shoulders as he grins to the group and says: “What B here means is that he was paranoid as fuck when he met you all and by the time Dick there came along, he was in too deep and too embarrassed to say anything.”

While knowing it won’t do a thing, Bruce feels the need to warn: “Jason.”

“What! It’s true. Right, Dick?” Jason exclaims.

Bruce looks at his oldest, but betrayal seems to be all around today, because Dick apologetically says: “It is, B, sorry. You really didn’t have to lie by the time I got onto the scene. You didn’t really have a reason when pitching it to me except for undercover training. It’s a bit of a bad look if you can’t find an explanation for a nine year old.”

“You were the first Robin,” Diana realizes.

“Guilty as charged,” Dick smiles at her charmingly. “I’m Nightwing now. Nice to meet you outside the mask.”

“Likewise,” Diana replies, shaking his hand, ever the princess. She then turns to Jason and asks: “And who might you be?”

“I’m Jason, Jason Todd. I was the second Robin. I’m Red Hood now,” Jason shakes her hand, still a little starstruck. Fondly Bruce thinks that some things never truly change. “It’s nice to meet you, Wonder Woman.”

“You can call me Diana. And it’s nice to meet you too,” she smiles.

In the background Hal whispers to Barry: “I thought Jason Todd died?”

With a wolfish grin comes onto Jason’s face and neither Bruce nor Dick stop him when he says: “I did, I got better,” though Dick does roll his eyes.

“Wait, I once caught Red Hood,” Clark says, suddenly realizing what he did. “You said you were Crime Alley come to life and I- Oh no. I…”

“Let a wanted criminal go based off the sound of an extra heartbeat with no evidence he was telling the truth,” Bruce fills in mildly.

“I appreciated it, Supes,” Jason pipes up with a big grin.

“Wait, your son is a criminal? Doesn’t that get awkward?” Barry asks.

“Well, I like to think of myself as more of an anti-hero, you know. One that steps in and doles out a more permanent kind of justice that Batman is too much of a pussy for,” Jason says.

“We have an ideological difference,” Bruce grits, pinching his brow bone. “He slowed down the murder. We’re working on it.”

“He’s working on it, I’m not really,” Jason tells them conversationally.

Though he is luckily stopped by Dick before he can say much more. The elder claps a hand over his mouth and smiles at the unconvinced League as he cheerfully informs them: “He’s a bit of a drama queen, it’s not so bad. Don’t worry about it.”

“I feel like we maybe should worry about that,” Clark says.

And while Bruce loves his friend, he is absolutely not having Clark meddle in Jason’s recovery and adjustment into the family. They have just made a step forwards and no one is ruining that for him. Not now.

Fortunately, before he has to hurt Clark’s feelings more, a motorcycle pulls into the Cave with Duke on it. He grapples his way over to the medbay, already saying: “Do we have some extra fear gas antidote, there is a- oh! Hi, uhm, you’re- you’re the Justice League.”

Then, because Duke is a loyal son and has moved up to Bruce’s second favorite, he quickly puts on a dramatic voice and introduces himself: “I am Gotham’s day and-”

“You don’t have to, Duke,” Dick cuts him off.

“Huh?” Duke asks.

“Yeah, we just kind of ruined it all. The League knows we’re just some people,” Jason shrugs, though he is grinning and doesn’t even have the decency to look apologetic. Bruce isn’t sure why he expected it.

“Oh, well, then I’m Duke, it’s an honor to meet you,” Duke tells them Justice League, who is still in shock at the sudden appearance.

Bruce hears Barry ask Hal if they’ve ever met this one and before it can become an actual question, he steps in and says: “We have more of the antidote over here. What happened? Did Scarecrow escape?”

“No, but some d-rate villain found an old stash,” Duke reports dutifully, taking the case of antidotes from him. “Cass is still fighting him, while I get this, but we have it handled. Don’t worry. I do have to go now.”

“Of course, good luck,” Bruce says.

“Thanks,” Duke smiles, before dropping down to the parking bay.

“Kick ass!” Jason yells after him.

“Give a call if you need back up,” Dick also calls out.

“Will do,” Duke promises, before speeding out of the Cave.

Bruce decides that this is the perfect opportunity and says: “We should leave too. The world saw Superman take a hit and us take off. Our latest battle site is still smoking. We need to make a public appearance to show that Clark here will be just fine. Maybe help with some of the clean up for good press.”

“But I wanna talk more about all this,” Barry whines.

“Yeah, there have been too many reveals and I feel like I haven’t processed any of them and have a hundred more questions to ask,” Hal agrees.

“Exactly!” Barry adds again. “Like you’re Bruce Wayne, I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen that kid before.”

“You’re human,” Clark adds, another betrayal of today.

“Well that’s tough for you,” Bruce says anyway, allowing himself to be a little bitchy. Today has been long, okay? “You can process in your own time and ask questions next time we see each other. Now get out of here.”

“Oehhh that’s his you’re in trouble voice,” Jason tells them, big smirk on his face.

“He’ll answer later, he just needs to be grumpy now,” Dick placates them and while it is correct, Bruce doesn’t want to promise that to them just now. So he glares at Dick, who just smiles back innocently.

The interaction goes unnoticed and Diana just smiles: “Well, then I am content to leave this revelation for now. Batman is right that we should return to the battlefield now, seek out our other comrades and assure everyone.”

“Thank you,” Bruce says. “Now get going.”

Fortunately, they start to do as he tells them, though Barry does pout: “Human Batman is a lot bossier.”

Bruce ignores it as the adult he is, loading the League back into the Batmobile so they can return to asses the damage and assure the public. As they leave, both Jason and Dick wave at them, calling out a goodbye that gets returned.

Before Bruce joins the rest of the League, he decides that he can be a little petty, so he stops and calls out: “Oh, and Dick?” “Yeah?” “You’re grounded.”

“What! Why? I didn’t do anything?” Dick exclaims indignantly. “Are you really grounding me for embarrassing you in front of your friends?”

“No, for eating the last of Alfred’s cookies,” Bruce says.

“Ha! Vengeance! Eat that, Dickface,” Jason crows with delight.

Dick splutters some more, before yelling: “You can’t ground me, I’m an adult. You have no power over me.”

“Still grounded,” Bruce shrugs, then gets into the car.

Before he can drive off, he can hear Jason laugh more at his brother, before Dick calls him a fucking tattletale, after which they can hear Jason shriek: “No! Don’t you fucking dare. No, no. Dickface!” before there is a shriek, followed a crash and the sound of a scuffle.

At that point Bruce planks the gas and they shoot out of the Cave. Cautiously Clark leans over and asks: “Is Jason going to be okay?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s going to be fine,” Bruce assures him. “They get a lot rougher when they’re all there. This is mild stuff honestly.”

“I can imagine. A lot of youngings can become a full house,” Diana says politely.

“How many kids to you have anyway?” Hal asks.

“Depends on how you count,” he shrugs.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Hal shrieks.

Deciding it’s a little funny how shocked they are, Bruce explains in detail: “Well, only Damian, the current Robin is mine biologically. I’ve adopted Dick and Jason, who you just met, as well as Tim, who is Red Robin and Cass, who is Black Bat. Then Duke is my ward. Steph, you know her as Spoiler, says she isn’t my kid, but I pay for her college and she eats my food. And Barbara, Luke, Harper and Cullen aren’t mine technically, but I still look out for them.”

“Fucking hell, Batman, at this point you have so many secrets from us, it’s like I don’t even know you. You could tell me that the T-rex eats intruders and I’d believe you,” Hal whistles.

Just to fuck with him, Bruce says: “He does,” then refuses to comment further until they’re there and have to leave the Batmobile to be the professional Justice League again.

Wanting to avoid the talk as long as possible, he slips out the moment he can. At home, Jason has convinced Alfred to make more cookies, which have lured in more of his brood. They’re all waiting when he comes in.

He is greeted loudly by Steph, who exclaims: “I can’t believe I did so much for your story and I wasn’t even there when they found out! This is so rude. I had to experience it second hand. Next time we’re fucking with people I demand to be involved in the solution.”

“I already told you, it was an accident,” Dick whines.

That sets off more squabbles, none of them actually caring about Bruce’s input, so he just stands off to the side. He nibbles on a cookie as he watches his kids fondly.

Next meeting he’ll have to face the music, get laughed at a little by the others and feel the embarrassment of letting it get so far.

Still, in his defense, he could have never known how far out of hand it all got when he started it in a fit of paranoia. And, despite the humiliation, he can’t be too mad. It only grew to what it is now, because of his family. He can live with all of it if he has his family.

54 notes · View notes