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sha-biest · 6 months
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It finally continues! And we get a little glimpse of Bishop Previous Part || Next Part
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scariddler · 7 months
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Soooo self indulgent but scarecrow and riddler fighting / grabbing at eachothers throats ?
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lovers quarrel or something ummm get these guys to couples therapy
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irondadfics · 4 months
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hi! I was wondering if you could help me find a fic I read a while ago but forgot to bookmark. It was short I think, but someone takes a shot at Tony and Peter jumps in front of him, but he’s fine because he was wearing his backpack and his school text books were thick enough to slow the bullet down or something along those lines? Sorry it’s not much to go on, thank you for your help!
Hi this is for you!
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beauleifu · 2 years
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Can I request a Macaque x male reader that somehow keeps getting hurt? (angst, fluff, comedy etc you decide)
Sure! Roughly 2k oneshot, hope you like it! Will definitely be angsty 'cause Macaque don't take bullshit very well lmao
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MACAQUE X M!READER
Lego Monkie Kid
Context: You are Macaque's training partner, slave to his every instruction. But hey, he's just trying to make you stronger and you're all for a little grime and sweat. Unfortunately, you're the type to take it too far, and you don't want your friend to notice.
TW: Blood, injury, language
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Again.
You grit your teeth, glaring at the obstacle course you'd set up for yourself.
Do it again. There's no room for mistakes.
Closing your eyes, you ready yourself, inhale sharply, and bound forward. Instantly, you come face to face with swinging punching bags, loaded with metal for maximum damage.
You dart sideways, arms brought up to shield your face as a rotating wooden post slams horizontally into you.
All part of training.
Clearing the course is no easy task, but paired with your stamina, increasing strength, and sheer determination, you get it done in five minutes tops. At the end, you're sweating buckets, aching all over, and hunched over with your hands planted on your knees. With every heave of breath rushes a swell of pride.
Then it fades, as you remind yourself that someone could do it faster.
Two minutes. You can at least scrape that.
Walking back around the weapon infested field, you ignore the pain aching in your arms and legs, preparing yourself for a second attempt.
"Okay . . . Okay."
Puffing out a breath, you assume an offensive position and launch yourself into the arena.
~~~
"(Y/N)!"
With a gasp, you sit up and try to pinpoint the vessel who'd said your name. Who-
They shout out again. "(Y/N), I'm here for our training session!"
Oh. Right. Macaque.
It seems as though he's trying to locate you, his voice distant and muffled from beyond the walls that separate you both. You try to sit up, but your body immediately protests. Ho boy.
"Ooooh, shit," you say, awed at your stupidity.
There's no way Macaque won't notice your unusual level of exhaustion. To add, your body hurts like hell.
Huffing, you call out. "In here!"
"You- uh, coming!"
What a dork. When he wants to be, of course. You find yourself wearing a tired, yet amused smile when the monkey demon strides into the training arena, golden eyes searching for you. When he spots you sitting on the wall furthest from the entrance, he offers a wave.
"Taking five?"
You groan, stretching your protesting limbs. "More like thirty."
He hums in acknowledgement, eyes sliding to the various equipment scattered about the room. A chuckle escapes him. "I see you've been busy. . . ."
"Just saving you some time," you lie.
In reality, you've spent days doing just this. Training. Pushing yourself to the limit.
Fighting the aches, you get to your feet and clap your hands together. "So!" You say, clearing your throat. "Shall we get started, then?"
"I don't see why not," Macaque says, eyes sharpening.
Suddenly, he's wielding one of his signature weapons, the edges tinted with purple magic. You know this one well, having experienced it first hand. Of course, Macaque always promises never to deal too much damage, even though you do hint from time to time at wanting to up your game.
Immediately, you know what's coming. The Six-Eared Macaque flashes you a challenging smirk. "Want me to go easy on you again?"
"Like hell," you grunt, assuming a wobbly defensive position.
The demon looks you up and down, unimpressed. "This is gonna be really quick, I can tell."
He's pushing your buttons.
And it's working. He's getting a rise out of you and that's what makes you dart to his right, to his blind spot. You think you have him, but that dark look to his strange smile proves you wrong.
In a blur of movement, he's gone, and you've been successfully neutralized.
In other words, he tripped you. Easily.
"Gosh, you are slow," Macaque hums, smirking.
Gritting your teeth, you get to your feet and brush yourself off furiously. "Shut up. Come at me again."
"Awww, is the little man mad-"
You lunge at him, your staff raised to strike. The monkey closes his eyes, and a gust of air has you grimacing- and then he's got the staff in one hand.
With a glare, you look up at him, trying to wrench the damn thing out of his hand.
"Let go, Macaque."
He scoffs, rolling his eyes fondly. "(Y/N), we just started training. Don't you wanna, y'know, plan our day out a bit before attacking me?"
"You-" Fumbling for words, you yank your staff back. "Fine!"
"Super. Now, let's figure out how to get around . . . your . . ." Macaque's voice trails off, his eyes lowering to your arms and legs, which are currently uncovered. You're just in your traditional sleeveless top and shorts. The deep bruises and rashes on your skin are clear as day.
The demon fixes his golden eyes on you. "Did you get into a fight or something?"
"Wha- Oh. You talking about these?" You ask, raising your arms for inspection. You keep the staff in hand in case Macaque is only luring you into a false sense of security. "No."
"Okay, well, what happened?" He presses, slightly annoyed.
You regard him apprehensively. "I'm training, dude. This shit is just part of the package."
He blinks, registering the information.
After gazing at the bodily damage for a few moments, Macaque's weapon suddenly dematerializes, and his shoulders sag in a sign of relaxation. He's done fighting for now. You lower your defenses, tilting your head in confusion. "Uh-"
"Take five," he grunts, turning away and heading for the water bottles.
You stare. "The hell?"
"(Y/N), you don't understand the meaning of balance, do you," Macaque deadpans, somewhat harshly, as he snatches some water and chugs it down.
"Seriously? I'm balanced," you retort, following him.
Wiping his chin, he glares. "Really? Cause the way I see it, you didn't stop training when the bruises came in."
"Why should I? It's unproductive."
Really, the true reason you keep going is because you know for a fact that Macaque wouldn't quit after sustaining damage. You've seen him train with a twisted ankle. He says he needs to keep his skills and abilities up to date and as strong as ever; to never let a setback take you away from training.
He's being a damn hypocrite right now, telling you that you should've taken a break to heal when you became hurt.
The monkey demon sighs frustratedly. "Look, I respect your passion and all, but this isn't the way to go about getting stronger. It's honestly just making you weak."
Your cheeks flood with heat at the obvious insult. He's totally insulting you.
Right?
"Dude! I'm literally doing what you said to do and this is the thanks I get? What was all that shit about not giving up?" You spit, gesturing to your arms, littered with bruises. "I'm not about to quit because of some stupid bumps."
Macaque looks angry - with himself. "I know I said that, but there's a difference between hurting yourself and becoming stronger."
"Maybe there's not. Maybe pain is strength."
"Really?" The demon fixes his sharp, calculating eyes on you. His weapon suddenly appears in one hand, and he tosses it carelessly. "Then prove it."
Oh shit.
A voice in your ear whispers that you simply can't accept the challenge.
That doing so would not only boost Macaque's ego when you lose, but also prove you wrong. That you were wrong to spend hours training and sustaining all these injuries. That it was all for nothing.
Obviously, that's the last thing you want proven.
But the other voice is angered by Macaque's taunt, and frustrated at your poor performance today. That side still wants to do more, still desires to impress your friend.
Your features harden. "Fine. I'm going to beat the shit out of you."
"Oh? Well, then," the demon hums, bowing. When he looks up, a wide, evil smirk is plastered on his face. "I'm waiting. . . ."
Fucking FINE.
Shifting your weight, you lunge at the asshole, expression contorted with determination. You strike with the spear, but the target suddenly darts to the side, hands behind his back in a clear message that says, I don't even have to do much to avoid you, bro. Now that's weak.
You're sufficiently pissed off.
Throwing an insult at Macaque, you spin around to face him.
Only, he's not where he should be. And that's when you feel a presence behind you, and you know you're too late.
"Told you," Macaque murmurs, a wicked amusement playing on his tone. With a grunt, he shoves you forward and you fall face-first on the floor.
You lost.
It was over so fast, and the finishing blow doesn't even cut it. He simply had to push you.
Your hands ball into fists. For a moment, your eyes are trained on the floor with fury and shame as you get to your hands and knees. And then, you see two feet in front of you. Then a hand, as Macaque lowers himself down in front of you.
"Take five," he says, voice surprisingly gentle. "Or thirty, even."
You look up, eyes wide.
Your training partner, your idol, your friend, is just trying to help you. And instead of acting civilized and normal, you'd challenged him to a battle you were destined to lose.
It's a knife to your pride. Grudgingly, you sit back on your rear, crossing your legs. "Fuck you."
"I was just trying to make a point."
"So was I."
He eyes you curiously, still kneeling. "Huh. You gonna tell me, or . . ?"
"I just . . . want to be the strongest I can be," you sigh after a moment. Eyes on the floor, you continue; "I get it that I'll never be as strong as you, I'm no demon. But it doesn't hurt to try, and only I know my body's limits."
Macaque turns a thoughtful eye towards the ceiling. "Sure. But despite knowing your limits, you pushed way past them."
"I mean, duh. That's how you get stronger."
"Okay, fact me this: how many days have you been going on like this?"
Oh.
This makes you pause. He'd certainly detect it if you lied, so in the end, you cave. "Uh . . . like five days, give or take. I took plenty of breaks, though."
"Hmm." There's something hollow to Macaque's gaze. "No wonder you look like shit."
"Hey . . ."
"I'm kidding. But seriously, you need to take better care of yourself. It's nice to want to be strong and it's nice to see results, but you're going about this all wrong. Tell you what-" With that, he stands up, hands on hips. "I'll have you over tomorrow so we can figure this out, but for now, try to rest. When you come over, we'll make a schedule for you or something."
You turn your narrow-eyed gaze up to meet his. It does sound like a good idea; besides, you're exhausted, and sleep sounds nice. "I . . . Yeah. Fine."
"Fine? Great. I'll go pop some popcorn."
"Wha-"
The demon walks towards the door, expression careless. "Pick out whatever movie you want, I don't care."
"We were literally just training-"
His eyebrows skyrocket at your refusal. "(Y/N), dude, just shut up. Pick a movie, get some blankets, and meet me on the couch. We're gonna fix you up."
"You're an asshole."
"Don't make me regret being so nice to you."
***
ALSO ALSO I HAVE IDEA FOR ANOTHER SCENARIO IF ANGST ISN'T FOR YOU LMAO
Macaque and you are going for a stroll and you keep tripping, keep bumping into the corners of tables or even people. At first, your companion makes fun of you every time you slip up, but eventually begins to show concern as pain slips past your features each time another incident occurs.
He'd stop laughing, showing concern as he asks if you're all right.
But you're a big boy, no way you'd ever admit you're in pain. You're just rather unlucky as of late. So you try to label it off as nothing, chuckling nervously.
Then you run headfirst into a lamppost.
That definitely gives you a bloody nose, and you flinch back with a yell, clutching the area.
Pain floods your face, but Macaque is quick to the rescue, demanding a random stranger to give them a tissue
mommy mode activated
he'd take you back to his place and ask you constantly what the hell is wrong, like bro why are you so clumsy today
its all fun and games until you get hurt
He doesn't like letting people know he cares, but when it comes to you and what you'd been through today, he'll let loose and ask if there's anything you need
Total awkward fluffboy
doesn't trust anyone else to baby you he's the chosen one
must do it in his awkward way
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koscheiisms · 6 months
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Whumptober Days 4/5/6/7/8
@whumptober @whumptober-archive
a bit of a longer fic to accommodate the amount of days it’s covering! this takes place in a Good Omens AU called Reverse Wives, which is Ineffable Wives where Aziraphale fell instead of Crowley. you can find lots of information about it in the fic’s author notes!
“You in there?”/“It’s broken.”/“It should have been me”/“Can you hear me?”/“It’s all for nothing.”
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bamsara · 1 month
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great, now they need a bath
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emthimofnight · 1 month
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Shadow is forward for once and Sonic (rightfully so) assumes he's dying
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fluffyartbl0g · 2 months
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Pirate Hunter
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turquoisespace35 · 19 days
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Peace doesn't last long
Previous
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Won't be able to update on the weekend 👉👈
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plumadot · 25 days
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not to be gay and yearning but. more soft scarian would be so cute... maybe them cuddling specifically... if u want...
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it's only blood; i have plenty left
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chestnutroan · 5 months
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waking up
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orbital-inclination · 1 month
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Narrow Escape! Nightmare and his gang are hot on their trail, oh no!
i originally sketched this out last September for Inktobertale. (for the bones shatter prompt) i felt like finishing it up today. Also playing around with lighting a bit. I have no idea what I’m doing! :) Ink sans @.comyet Dream @.joku US Sans @.p0pcornpr1nce
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irondadfics · 2 years
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Hii, This might not be helpful at all but its been on my mind for awhile. I read this fic where peter came into the lab and was like was bleeding out, and Tony had to go and help him. The thing i remember most from this fic is that the dialogue was top notch and they were being super sarcastic and it was so funny omg. I think at one point tony had to cauterize one of peters wounds and it was like super painful? although that part might be from a different fic. sorry abt the vague description! ty
Thank you to those who contributed to our Follower Outreach Program for helping to locate this story!
leg day by indexofangels
“Okay,” says Peter. “Okay. Okay. Don’t freak out.” “Um?” says Tony. He drops his screwdriver onto the desktop and stands so he can see the kid better. He's hovering in the entryway to the lab, shifting his weight foot to foot like some sneaky little criminal. This change in angle is really— quite enough to see what’s the matter, so very enough that it’s too much, and Tony almost chokes on his tongue. “Kid what the fuck,” he says, clambering straight over the table, kicking loose screws and metal scraps out of his way as he hastens to Peter’s side because there is a very inauspicious and inexplicable pool of blood on the linoleum and, really, Peter should not be bleeding this fast from any wound, ever, but especially not right now, at half-past-two in the goddamn morning with no one but the moon to watch.
^this sounds like the fic you're looking for, but no cauterization. Here's a fic with cauterization if you're interested:
Finders Keepers by FanDreams01
Tony heard a crash from somewhere in the building, causing his hands to shake and ignite a spark in the wires he was working with. “Shit! Dum-E, don’t even think about it… FRIDAY, what on earth was that?” “It seems Mr. Parker has decided to enter the building through the window down the hall. A rather unconventional choice, but effective nonetheless.” Tony gets up quickly, muttering a string of curses before finding Peter sprawled out in a pile of glass and blood, a bloody knife in his hand. “Oh hey, Mr. Stark. Sorry about the mess, don’t worry, I’ve got this covered...” The eyes on Peter’s suit drift shut as his head dropped onto the floor. Or: Peter gets stabbed by a really cool looking knife, and Tony is forced to cauterize the wound.
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beauleifu · 2 years
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could I ask for a mayor x fem reader fluff for a oneshot?
Sure! Roughly 2k word count, hope you like it!
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MAYOR X READER
Lego Monkie Kid
Context: Takes place after Season 3 of LMK, 'cause we never get to see what happened to the Mayor after being captured and shit. You're just a normal person tryna take care of your idiot man <3
TW: Blood cause we cleaning his wounds. Very light mentions tho, and slight language
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
You live a peaceful life.
That being said, there is nothing peaceful about how you're suddenly woken up. The awful crash makes you sit up straight in your bed, staring around with wide eyes. What the hell was that?!
It sounds like it came from the kitchen.
However, that makes no sense, seeing as you live alone and you didn't invite anyone over. No guests, no friends staying the night to escape the chaos of their own lives. It's just you, the city (Megapolis), and your home. Besides, a swift glance at your alarm clock reveals that it's two in the morning, so you conclude that it's a thief who has definitely broken into your house.
No doubt about it.
You're not ready, though!
All your defenses are slipping through your fingers as you hastily - yet quietly - get out of bed, grab your phone, and shuffle towards the door. Heart beating a mile a minute, you crack it open.
The noise definitely came from the kitchen. You hear something again, and this time a cup must've fallen in the sink. A low, muffled curse reaches your ears, and you bite your lip against the panic. If the intruder is in the kitchen, they have access to all the available weapons you own. One wrong move on your part, and you could scare them and incite an unwanted and deadly confrontation.
Should you go back to sleep? Pretend you didn't notice and let the burglar get away with it? It's not like you have any valuables out in the open screaming steal me! I hate it here!
On the other hand, you're not a coward. You live here; it's your responsibility to defend it - and yourself.
Sighing, you stay as quiet as possible and peek into the kitchen. There are no lights to supply you with any view, but turning on your flashlight would only alert the intruder to your presence.
They're literally in the next room over.
Suddenly, you feel like the intruder; creeping up on someone unknowingly. Not a fun feeling.
Crouching by the corner that separates the kitchen from the next room, you watch the person make their way blindly around, swinging open cabinets, tugging drawers open, all in search of something. It's difficult to make out their frame from the shadows, but from their movements it looks like they're limping. You could be wrong, though.
"Damn. . . . Now where did she say the rags were . . ?"
A honeyed, baritone voice reaches your ears, a soft mumble that should've provoked some sort of panic, but you recognize it almost immediately.
The Mayor.
He's here? Is that really him??
Fumbling for your phone, you straighten and turn the flashlight on, beaming it onto the figure in the kitchen. oh, gosh.
Tall, battered, and bleeding - but definitely your Mayor. His attire is torn in some places, the pinstripe suit giving way to a light blue undershirt. His collar is undone and his hunched frame is decorated with cuts and bruises - too many to count, and too many to keep you from worrying.
The Mayor spins around, wobbling as he attempts to right himself, one hand tightly gripping the counter. "Wha- . . . Ah. Did I wake you?"
You stare, open-mouthed. This is probably the weirdest thing you've witness all year. Your idiot, the high-and-mighty henchman to the one and only Lady Bone Demon, has deemed it perfectly fine to be in your kitchen unannounced at 2 a.m., looking like absolute shit, and all he does is ask if he woke you up?
The hell??
"What the fuck are you doing here?!" "You whisper-yell.
There's something in the bone demon's grip; he suddenly holds it up in one bloodied hand for emphasis, revealing white bandages. "I'm assessing my wounds. Do you keep any rags in your kitchen, by chance?"
Holy shit. One hand goes to grip your head while other still maintains a rather shaky grip on your phone. "Uh . . . yeah . . ? Yeah. Gimme a second," you say, clearing your throat. There's no reasoning with this lunatic, however much he's grown on you. Sauntering up to one of the kitchen drawers, you pull it open and take out a random towel and continue; "You don't have to use a rag, y'know. I'm not an expert, but I'm sure it would only make it worse . . ?"
Perhaps it wouldn't, though. Considering how your idiot is a demon and probably heals in unnatural ways.
"Thank you," the Mayor says, half sighing.
Spinning on heel, you wield the towel like a weapon. "Okay. Now tell me what the fuck is going on. Why are you here??"
He simply stares at you with a somewhat strained grin. It's not the one you're used to; peaceful, bright, wide. Sometimes he'd smile softly, and that's what makes the butterflies erupt within you. But this smile is different. It's forced, and you can't understand why the Mayor is still trying to smile despite being in pain.
With a sigh, you shake your head. "All right, forget the questions. Just . . . are you okay?"
The demon blinks slowly at you, eyes white and blank. "Yes."
"Oh. Gotcha. Um, you wanna take care of all . . . this-" You gesture halfheartedly you the Mayor's wounds, then point to the kitchen table; "somewhere more comfortable?"
"That would be preferable."
Okay.
All right.
You can do this. As you mentally harden yourself, the Mayor takes a seat on one of the chairs, unrolling a bit of the bandages in preparation. The numerous cuts on his body is alarming, and your hands tremble slightly as you wet the towel. Without another word, you drop the item on the table and step back, awkwardly shoving your hands into your pockets. The Mayor's smile softens a tad as be begins addressing his wounds, seemingly too focused to offer his usual.
There's no more need for you, apparently.
You can go right back to bed.
But your feet are glued to the floor, anchored by a feeling you've been desperately trying to suppress the second you realized the entity in your kitchen was someone you know and trust.
So now, you just look stupid standing awkwardly in your pajamas.
The Mayor's white eyes glance up at you, curiosity glowing in their depths. You've come to recognize the faint glimmers of emotions your idiot expresses over time, but it wasn't easy at first. The Mayor was a blank slate until you came to know him better.
A fond and knowing smile lights his face. "I assume you wish you assist, my dear?"
Butterflies.
You nod hurriedly, taking a seat beside the Mayor. "I-I'm no expert, but if there's something you can't reach I can totally help."
"That would be lovely," the Mayor hums, shifting to face you and offering you the damp towel. Amusement enters his voice. "Why don't we make a deal? You help me take care of my little dilemma, and I shall answer any questions you may have."
"Did you assume I have questions, or are you just a sucker for storytelling?" You deadpan.
Your friend merely smiles. With a huff, you take the towel and gently take his arm in your hands. Trying to be as methodic as possible, you clear his arm of all the dried blood, grimacing at all the bruises and cuts. Whenever you catch the Mayor flinch the tiniest bit you're apologizing so fast it should be added to the book of world records. However, he always reassures you with a kind smile and a soft voice that pain is inevitable when treating wounds. That you're doing a wonderful job helping him, and he's very thankful you've taken his unexpected and sudden visit so well.
Eyes on the task at hand, you mumble out your question. "So . . . so what fresh hell did you crawl out of before breaking into my kitchen?"
"I had an unfortunate quarrel with an enemy of my mistress," the Mayor answers smoothly, eyes on you instead of his arm. "The Monkey King made an attempt to sway her from her destiny, and it was my mission to deter him."
Interesting.
There's something harsh and full of venom in the way he says Monkey King. You ignore it. "And you lost, didn't you?"
He catches the slight tease in your voice, and his suspicion only increases when you look up with a mischievous grin. The Mayor snorts, casting his gaze to the side, but he's unable to hold back a grudging smile. "Hmm. What makes you think that, my dear?"
"Oh, I dunno," you say, taking the bandages and wrapping his arm. "Maybe because you snuck into my home with your tail between your legs."
"I possess no tail whatsoever."
"You're a demon, so why not? And I was just relating what you did to a scared puppy."
The Mayor lets out a long, thoughtful hum, but perhaps he only did so to make you stop talking. You laugh, grinning stupidly at him as he rests his chin on the back of his hand. As you take his other arm for a proper check-up, his lips curl into a smirk, eyebrows high and eyes half-lidded. Damnit, you know that look very well. "I advise you to choose your next words very carefully, love."
"I'm just saying!" You say, chuckling. With one hand, you brush his unkept hair to the side and out of his eyes. "Old Monkey Man must've rocked you up pretty hard, huh? You look like shit."
He grimaces. "Yeees, I'd much rather have visited in something more presentable, though. My apologies."
You blink. What.
A dangerous entity, slave to an even more powerful bone demon, is apologizing to you - you, of all people. What a sight. Smiling softly, you lock eyes with him and hum. "D'awww, you feel bad for looking like hell on earth in front of me? I'm honored."
"So you are," the Mayor says sneakily, glancing at your fingers in his hair.
Quickly, you drop your hand - only for him to seize it gently and bring it to his lips, where he presses a small kiss to the back of your hand. Your eyes go wide, butterflies erupting in your stomach.
Uh.
Damnit.
He's adorable.
"I-Is this how you normally thank people?" You stutter.
His eyes flick up as he lets go of you, a smirk twisting his mouth when he leans back. "You're a special case, sweetheart."
"Huh. Okay. Are you, um . . ." You avert your gaze, hyper-focused on patching a cut on his cheek. There's just one question you're dying to ask, but all the possible answers are dreadfully scary. Clearing your throat, you decide to get it over with. "You wanna stay the night?"
A beat. The Mayor's expression is fond. "Is this how you normally help people?"
"Ha!" Since your hands are already working on his face, you decide to pinch his cheek lightly. The demon's smirk merely widens, a deep, rumbling chuckle sounding from his chest. You snort, trying to maintain any sort of dignity. "Yes or no, idiot."
One of his hands goes to rest over yours on his face. His eyes are glazed over, smile once again relaxed and sappy. "Of course, my lady."
Anyone would say the Mayor looks absolutely lovestruck.
Unfortunately, you don't realize it until you're buried in the coolness of his arms, swathed in blankets on your bed as you listen to his breathing slow. He doesn't require sleep, but is happy to help you to do so, and after you'd finished bandaging him up, he'd finished telling his tale of woe, and you did exactly the things he liked; played with his hair, offered to sleep in your bed, and begged him to disassociate himself with LBD.
Hopefully this time around, he'll listen.
He's a keeper.
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cenobitebf · 1 year
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He changed this caption last year but maybe don't shoot at your employees if you don't want them to quit 👍🏻
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verawhisk · 1 month
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behold the pale horse carrying the burnt corpse
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