#i'm so sorry for the long dely

[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch.7

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

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It had been far too long. Far too long since you've stayed alone with a man overnight. Your nerves were kicking in as you kept thinking about staying over at Miguel's place. You knew that he would never take advantage of you, but the nerves. The nerves wouldn't go away nor stop the thoughts.

Unable to stop shaking, you gasped as you dropped the order you were wrapping on the floor. Prepared to be yelled at, you shrunk and covered your ears. To your surprise, none of your coworkers yelled at you. They just quickly made another order and had to wrap it for them again.

You apologized and redid the wrapping, glancing around. You've seen these guys scream and yell at each other whenever someone fucks up. How come they didn't do it to you? Recalling Miguel, you started to wonder if he had a hand in this. Miguel was a regular and someone who did use the supermarket for something else that you still didn't know.

Could he have said something?

Playing with your sleeves, you tried to calm down. Could Miguel have said something to your bosses? The thought did make your heart flutter. How much was this man going to take care of you? You needed to find a way to return the favor.

"(Y/N), go take a break." Your Supervisor told you. You flinched and nodded,

"S-Sorry," You whimpered, hurrying off to the breakroom.

Right as you left, your Supervisor exhaled loudly and walked over to the small seating area in front of the deli. He placed a sandwich in front of a woman holding a newspaper.

"You got patience. I could never sit and watch someone for eight hours a day."

"That's why I got hired," Jessica said, lowering her paper, "You and I both know it isn't going to last forever. Miguel always gets what he wants."

------------

You held your bag in your hand, waiting for Miguel's text. You had prepped last night and the manager allowed you to leave your duffel bag in her office for your shift. Stepping outside the supermarket, you gasped lowly, spotting Miguel exiting his car.

"I was just about to text you," Miguel hummed. His driver rushing out to take your bag, "Would you like to go anywhere first before dinner? There's still some hours of daylight left."

"O-Oh, hmm..." You covered your mouth, trying to think as Miguel motioned you towards his car, "I-I'm not sure, there is...a few things I've been wanting to see..."

"Name them,"

Once you were both in the backseat of his car, Miguel brought you in for a deep kiss. He loved seeing how dazed and red you get each time. It was so addicting seeing your innocence. As you started naming some places, Miguel informed his driver to take them to each one.

Before they left, Miguel made sure to signal Jessica a good job and for her to go back home. Miguel was determined to make sure nothing gets you stressed or worked up. Especially not after seeing those scars.

Right as he leaned back into his seat, Miguel eagerly waited for a report from Miles. There was so much anger inside of Miguel that he needed to let it loose soon.

"Thank you, Miguel," You whispered, resting your head against his shoulder. Miguel wrapped his arm around your waist,

"Of course,"

---------

You were exhausted. Miguel had taken you all over the city, sightseeing a bunch of places you had wanted to visit. You felt so happy and loved. But mainly exhausted. All of that walking around since he couldn't drive into those places, did take a toll.

Rubbing your eyes as you sat back down in the back of Miguel's car, you whimpered a small yawn. Once the car started to drive, you immediately fell asleep.

---------

Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched you sleep against him. Wanting to make you comfortable, Miguel adjusted you and had you lay your head on his lap. Miguel's jacket resting over you as a blanket. It was funny. Normally Miguel had women lay down in his car for other reasons, but this was nice.

As Miguel played with your hair, he felt his phone buzz. Assuming that it was Miles, Miguel hurriedly answered.

"Update?"

"Weeeeeeeeell," Lyla forced a laugh, "That mission you sent Miles on turned out to be a road trip."

"Que? (What)"

"See, Gwen and Hobie found out that Miles was going out of town and decided they want in. Then they dragged Pavitar with them, so to make sure they didn't mess up the mission or do anything stupid-"

"Don't say Peter-"

"I had Peter go supervise them," Lyla laughed.

Miguel couldn't handle hearing anymore. He hung up, groaning lowly. It just had to be the youngling of his group. They kept adding to his stress. But, at least Miguel had you.

"Shall I take you home, sir?" Miguel glanced up at his driver,

"Yes. Perhaps take out will suffice for dinner instead." Miguel replied, adoring your sleeping visage.

The last thing Miguel wanted to do was overstimulate you. You were fragile. His reports from Jessica were very detailed in what got you to tick and explode. It took every ounce of willpower for Miguel to stay back whenever Jessica reported you crying over a stupid, angry customer.

But, you won't be working there much longer. Arriving at his penthouse, Miguel carefully picked you up and carried you upstairs while his driver grabbed the bags.

You looked perfect in his arms. All nuzzled against him, sleeping peacefully. Why didn't you appear sooner in his life? Miguel was going to treat you like the queen you deserve to be. His precious little wife. A title so fitting for you.

Miguel had his driver leave the bags on the counter and told him to enjoy the rest of his day. With ease, Miguel took off both his shoes and yours and proceeded to take you to his bedroom. Miguel placed you on his bed, kissing the top of your head before leaving to order some food.

"Que duermas bien mi conejito. (Sleep well, my little bunny)"

-----------

It was quiet. Your felt yourself start to come too as you shifted slightly in your sleep. You felt relaxed and comfortable. Slowly opening your eyes, you titled your head at the different, yet fancy ceiling. Miguel must have taken you to his place.

Gasping, you shot up, covering your face since you realized that you fell asleep. How embarrassing! You looked around, seeing that you were in his room, but no sign of Miguel. Laying back down, you felt yourself sink into his mattress.

"It smells like him," You whispered, holding his pillow close.

Your cheeks started to warm up as your heart pounded against your chest. You were really at Miguel's place. You wanted to feel like everything was moving so fast, but it also felt so right. It was corny, but you felt like Miguel was filling in the missing pieces.

"Ah, you're awake. Did you rest well?" Miguel asked as he entered the room. You quickly released his pillow and sat up,

"Mhm, s-sorry for falling asleep,"

"Don't be. I made you exhausted after a long day of work," Miguel sat beside you, cupping your cheek, "I got us some take out. Ready to eat?"

"Yep,"

You took Miguel's hand, giggling softly as he lifted you off the bed. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, enjoying the moment. Miguel held your hand as he showed you around his penthouse, at least until he took you to the dining room where dinner was waiting.

"T-This place...is...is so big. It...It must feel really lonely," You whispered.

Miguel glanced at you in awe. Every other women would compliment on his place, saying it must cost a fortune, or make a sly comment about him needing a maid. Yet, here you were, worried about him. It was funny how much Miguel loved you.

"Not too much since I'm only here so a short time. Unless I get a reason to home won't, I'll stay out working." Miguel handed you a plate.

"T-Thank you,"

You watched Miguel as he set the plates, finding him much more attractive. This was new. You sat up, wanting to help him, but Miguel insisted that you'd sit and relax. As Miguel set the plates, you picked at your sleeves. He was so nice to you. So understanding.

Perhaps, you could tell him your secret. It was something hard for you, but if you were going to be serious with Miguel, you wanted him to know. You were just worried about his reaction. What if he decided that you were ugly? What if he didn't want anything to do with you afterwards?

"(Y/N), what's wrong?" Miguel hurried to your side, wiping your tears away, "Tell me, mi amor (my love)."

"I-I'm so-sorry. I-It's just...I...I want...w-want to t-tell you s-something b-but...but I-I'm scared...t-that you'll w-want n-nothing to do...w-with me." You sobbed.

Miguel knew you were scared due to your worse stuttering. He held you against his chest, letting you cry. Miguel had a rough idea that you wanted to tell him about your scars. Hell, Miguel wasn't sure how he would react. Stroking your hair, Miguel sighed softly,

"(Y/N), I never want you to be scared of me. You can tell me anything. I'll still love you all the same," He tried to reassure you.

You sniffled, trying to calm down. You apologized for ruining dinner, but Miguel dismissed it. He reassured you once more, and told you to eat. Miguel wanted you to have some energy before telling him anything.

You agreed and ate beside Miguel, still sniffling every now and then. Once finished, you offered to do the dishes, needing some more time to calm down. Miguel said he was going to shower. That gave you some time.

Once dishes were done, you quickly looked through your bag for your pajamas, puzzles and cookies. When Miguel came out of the shower, you proceeded to enter. You grabbed Miguel's hand, slowly bringing him back into the bathroom.

"(Y/N)?"

"I-I was...in a....v-very bad relationship...b-before. Which, which is why I'm s-so scared...I-I really...really...like you Miguel. I-I want y-you to understand...m-my fear,"

"Of course,"

You closed your eyes as Miguel held your cheeks in his hands. He kissed your forehead, giving you motivation. You hummed lowly and slowly started to take off your clothes.

---------

Miguel watched you, telling himself to relax no matter the outcome. You needed his support, which was something he was not used to giving. His brows furrowed as you took your pants off. There were cuts, scars and a few cigarette marks.

Miguel felt his blood boil. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as your body started to shake. You were gripping the bottom of your shirt, hesitating to pull it up. Miguel almost didn't want you too, but this was for you.

"Lo mataré por ti, mi conejito. (I'll kill him for you, my bunny.)" Miguel whispered as he gave you a deep kiss.

Miguel watched the sparkle in your eyes shine as you made eye contact with him. His hands rested over yours, helping you remove your shirt. Miguel inhaled deeply as he observed your body, which was covered in those marks as well.

"S-Sorry...f-for not being-"

"Beautiful?" Miguel interrupted, needing to change your mindset, "You didn't make these marks, but they don't cover your beauty. (Y/N), I'll get revenge for you, but I need you to love yourself as much I do." He whispered, kissing your hand.

"B-But-"

"You have no idea how much I'm behaving right now. Seeing you shaking in front of me, ready to be devoured."

Miguel chuckled lowly as your face turned bright red. He captured your lips in another kiss before taking your hand and showing you how the shower worked. He smiled, watching you nod and hold his hand tightly.

You were warming up to him, and Miguel liked that. Letting you shower peacefully, Miguel made sure to compliment you once more. He stepped out of the bathroom and returned to the dining room, to make sure everything was cleaned.

To his surprise, he saw your cookies. A smile formed against his lips as he placed one in his mouth despite hating sweets. To his surprise, it wasn't too sweet. It felt just right. Feeling his phone buzz, Miguel looked at a text he received from Miles.

'We have a name.'

"Tch," Miguel hissed lowly, calling the kid, "I want more than just a name. I want everything on his fucker. If you guys find him, bring me to me."

"Whoa, guys? It's just me-"

"I can hear Hobie and Peter in the background," Miguel said unamused. Miles laughed awkwardly,

"Okay, fine. Hobie's asking if we can rough him up a bit?"

"No. Leave that to me."

Miguel immediately hung up upon hearing your call. He returned to the bathroom with a grim look on his face. Miguel was going to make sure your ex paid for what he did to you. For damaging his precious future wife.

You belonged to Miguel.

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next chapter <<<Heavy smut

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

May I please have a Wally with a reader that is somehow sentient and aware with knowing they've somehow got stuck in this tv show and are heavely aware Wally has something to do with it?

So they're extra closed up about themselves, stay home a lot to avoid the puppets in overly social gathering (like they can handle two or three of them but not all at once as it's too overwhelming with happy shizzles and stuff), yet that doesn't mean they don't talk at all to them. They don't keep their mouth shut either when something's bothering them, like when they get annoyed when Wally stares too long at them and makes a comment about it or genuinely admit they dislike Home with how disturbing it seems to them.

Wally somehow doesn't mind as he's genuinely interested in them and wants to become their friend as best as possible, not for any reason with manipulation, just pure friendly business. But as the reader knows he's the main star of the show they're forced to play in, they know the camera follows him almost always, thus they avoid him like the plague which causes a cat and mouse play between you two. Wally trying to get closer to you with perhaps making paintings and gifts for you while you just casually dip out of there while somehow looking like you don't hate him.

(It would be even funnier if you somehow became the second favorite character of the show as you stand out a lot with your attitude and being the only human being there, perhaps even attracting teens to watch the show with your remarks at the puppets for a certain someone not even having a nose or eyebrows and your monotone voice singing and having no energy with dancing once you somehow get stuck in a song sequence with the others (kind of like red guy from dhmis)

Funny thing is, sadly for Wally, is that you get along well with Frank and Eddie as they're the more calm ones, Eddie still joyfull a lot, but more calmer than Julie and Howdy perhaps are.

So there's Wally, staring with the most confused and slight jealous eyes as he watches you joke around and actually smile with the duo/couple(?) while you always give him a frown that's somehow even deeper than Franks.

Sorry for the slight ramble and long explanation (I'm a fanfic writer myself), just wanted to give a summary of how I see it and wondering how you'd think this would work out.

Btw, reader doesn't hate Wally, they're just warry and uncomfortable with his stares and Home in general, and with the knowledge that's he's one of the reasons they're stuck here. They soften up to him a little eventually, like letting him hug them shortly or talking more casual with him, but no way he ever sees them entering his house.

This was so long I'm so sorry.

Anyway, have a great day/night!

Oh don't worry I think this is a great idea! I like how fleshed-out it is!

...........

You have only spent a week in the neighborhood...before realizing something was terribly, terribly wrong with the world surrounding you.

At first, this place seemed like nothing but sunshine and rainbows--full of fun, joy, color, and friendship. A place that one could only dream of living in all their life, free of worry or strife.

It felt comforting and safe, so when you started having these weird feelings that not everything was as it seemed..you figured you were just nervous about settling into a new place.

But when the folks here asked where you were from, you'd end up drawing a blank...starting to question where you really did come from. So you'd simply tell them you're just "out of town" and leave it at that, although you always sounded uncertain about it.

And there's something else that was especially peculiar: every activity the neighbors did almost always stopped at the end of the day. It seemed strange to you since there's plenty of things you could do. Like campfires or stargazing!

So one evening, you asked all of your neighbors why they rarely hung out during the night, and they had relatively normal responses: Eddie says it's tricky to deliver mail at nighttime; Howdy was too tired from working at the bugdega all day; Barnaby and Sally had to plan their next stunts, tricks, and plays; Julie and Frank wanted to get their "beauty sleep"; and Poppy needed to take care of things back at the barn.

All seemed to be perfectly reasonable answers...

Until you got to Wally.

He looked as though he was ready to respond...only to fall quiet and stare off into space, as though he was in another world. But the fact that his pupils seemed to dilate gave you the chills for some reason, and you calmly tried snapping him out of his trance.

Then he did, and quietly said something about Home "disliking" it whenever he stays out too late. And he bid you goodnight before leaving.

That exchange was the moment you realized something was very off about him beyond his staring habits. It's like he didn't know exactly what to say.

As if...it's such an unusual question for him, but normal to you.

And out of nowhere, the truth hit you like a truck:

This whole place was just one big TV show, with all of you trapped inside as the unwitting stars who were meant to follow certain "scripts" during your daily interactions.

You don't know how or why you knew that, but it became clearer when you constantly got the feeling that your movements were being watched.

You could sense eyes on you even when you were alone.

And sometimes you'd hear indistinguishable voices of adults and children alike while you slept, unable to discern whether they were merely in your dream or existed in reality. It must have been the former, considering none of the other neighbors said they heard anything.

To you, these people...these "viewers", sounded like they were in a faraway land--an unreachable place where you couldn't call out to them for answers no matter how hard you tried.

You knew nothing about them, but they knew everything about you.

Your character had become so fascinating to them from the moment you arrived in the humble neighborhood. You've actually become the second favorite almost instantly, given the uniqueness you've brought to the colorful cast as a human merely wearing an average-sized costume.

They've observed that your personality makes you relatable to young teens, attracting them to the show. Many of them got some chuckles out of your dry and semi-self aware humor (in that you'd joke about how Wally's missing his eyebrows and nose when everybody else has them). It was an immediate hit.

Even when you got pulled into some silly musical number with the rest of the gang, you just spoke in monotone and put lackluster energy into dancing when the camera panned over to you--much to the dismay of your "neighbors".

The viewers just couldn't get enough of you. They adored you.

And they can't stop watching.

You, on the other hand, weren't aware that you were so popular...and quite frankly, you didn't want to be. It terrified you.

So for a while, to protect your own sanity, you began attending less and less social events, not wanting to overwhelm yourself. You've declined invitations to Sally's and Barnaby's shows, which made you feel kinda bad..but you were just so fearful of everything at the time.

Were any of them aware of their circumstances, too?

You had no idea, and it would probably make you sound like a crazy person if you told them how you really felt.

The only other person to show any sort of "deviance" was...Wally himself.

You didn't know why, but you felt like he had something to do with the situation you're in. Especially given his odd response to you that evening and the fact that...he just apparently loved to stare so much, watching you just like the audience did.

It didn't help that whenever you talked to him or he tried approaching you, you got the chilling feeling that you were being perceived by the audience--as if somebody was holding a camera over your shoulder, wanting to capture every moment the "main character" spent with you.

You'd prefer to spend as little time in the spotlight as possible.

However, being anxious about this world didn't mean you weren't a bit mouthy towards other things you disliked. You were known for being blunt and sometimes a "realist", shrugging of whatever crocodile tears the others may give you just for the crime of being honest and true to yourself.

So yes...you'd always call out Wally if he was staring at you for a prolonged period of time, or if he tried persuading you to say hello to Home if you happened to pass by the sentient house.

Your response? Straight up "no thank you, it creeps me out and I don't like how its window-eye things are looking at me."

The audience may laugh, but it's the truth.

That building scares you.

Despite all of this, though...Wally didn't seem to bothered by it. He likened your sarcastic quips to Frank's, so that was never an issue with him. If anything, he was genuinely trying to help you feel right at home in the neighborhood, hoping to become a friend you could trust and rely on if you needed anything.

It'll just take you a bit more time to adjust, and that's alright!

Sure, maybe his stares were strange to you and Home was well...Home. He understood why those things might seem scary to a new neighbor.

But then again, that's how everybody else acted when he first met them, and now they were all good friends!

He's sure you'll fit right in and find true happiness here. So he made it his mission to befriend you without coming on too strongly, inviting you to quiet picnics and painting lessons, calling you on the phone, and even showing up at your doorstep with gifts.

He even made sure to tell his neighbors to give you space, though he was really hoping you'd stop being afraid of him the longer you spent around him alone.

But while you accepted his presents and showed up to his invites...you just couldn't let your guard down around him. You never looked happy or relaxed, and didn't stay long, usually cutting your time together short under the guise that you forgot to do something important and had to leave now.

Your latest excuse was that you forgot to "walk your fish" even though you owned no such pet. You were a terrible liar, but Wally believed you anyways.

He was a patient man, so he'll wait how ever long it took to befriend you.

...........

"Alright, Home..today I'm gonna gift [y/n] my finest work thus far! Do you think they'll like it?"

Pausing, Wally listened for the creaks of approval and squeaks of reassurances, smiling when he heard them, although Home noted something else.

"Haha..you're right. Silly me. It needs more time to dry..or else the paint will just smudge and make it a not-so-nice gift. Sorry, I'm just excited, is all.." He chuckled awkwardly.

After setting the canvas back on the easel, he wandered over to the window and peered outside, humming a small tune to himself as he rested his arms on the sill.

It took him all day and all night to paint the perfect picture of your favorite animal---which he learned about from an off-handed comment you made a few days ago. His memory was sharp, remembering all the details about the creature, and he believed you'll love what he created as a result!

Surely now you'll see that he's not all that bad. Otherwise he'd be lost on how to convince you.

However, he noticed a rather...surprising sight from across the street, one that even Home had to confirm was happening so he didn't think he was going crazy.

You were actually out and about, having a casual chat with Frank, asking how he got together with Eddie before bumping into said mailman on the sidewalk.

Wally couldn't make out what any of you three were discussing, but Eddie must have said something humorous, as it made Frank groan and hide his blushing face. And you just chuckled and shook your head, patting the latter's back sympathetically.

He felt his heart sink.

You were talking to the couple--joking around, smiling, and genuinely enjoying their company. As if you've known them all your life.

Yet anytime he's even near you in any capacity, he's met with frowns deeper than Frank's and constant excuses to get away from him. Like he was some kind of pest or scary monster.

He didn't understand what he was doing wrong.

Of course, he's happy you're getting along with some of the neighbors, no longer being so shut-in...but it hurt to know he's still stuck struggling, literally begging you to be his friend.

*creaaaak?*

"..no, Home. I'm not jealous. What gives you that idea?"

*...creeak.."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Wally looked back at the easel, sighing. Part of him wanted to just throw the whole canvas out the window, but....he shook off the feeling, forcing a smile.

He wanted you to have it, even if you didn't like him that much.

So when he saw you finally parting ways with Eddie and Frank, he decided to head over to your house about an hour later, assuming you were gonna be there and needed to recharge from socializing.

He put on his best cardigan and made sure his hair was neat before heading out the door with the small canvas tucked under his arm, covered by a protective sheet. He wouldn't wanna spoil the surprise for you, after all..even if you anticipated it being yet another painting.

For some reason, the sky was grayer than usual today..meaning it's probably gonna rain on his parade.

But he didn't let that deter him.

After arriving to your house, he knocked three times, in a certain rhythm that you've distinctively recognized as him being at the door.

But he was surprised when you opened it right away. "Oh heya, Wally. What's up?"

"Ohh nothing much, neighbor." He chuckled. "May I..come in? I promise I won't stay long-"

"It's cool. It looks like it's gonna rain anyways. Wouldn't wanna ruin your "beautiful" hair now, huh?" With a coy smirk, you let him come inside the house, shutting the door behind you as you turned around to see what be brought you this time.

He looked shocked, almost, standing there like a fish out of water. You invited him in without hesitation...though he tried not getting his hopes up too high.

You're just trying to be polite. In a few minutes you're gonna kick him out for some silly reason.

Shifting your gaze away from his uncomfortable stare, you looked at the painting in his hands, tilting your head. "I guess that's for me.."

Nodding, Wally handed you the canvas, watching you remove the small sheet to see it was a painting of your favorite animal. Your eyes lit up, impressed by the amount of details that went into this one, before looking back up at him. "Wow, man..this is....awesome. How long did it take you?"

"Not very long!" He suddenly chirped, hands clasped together with excitement. "I just hope it fits nicely in your collection! A-Assuming....you...have one...that is..."

Bit by bit, his words began to fall flat with uncertainty, before he completely dropped the act, shoulders slumped.

Why did he bother trying anymore? What was the point?

You noticed his odd mood shift. "Wally? What's wrong?"

"..nothing, neighbor.." Sighing, he hung his head low, a cloud of doom and gloom manifesting over him as he shuffled towards the door. He felt like going back to Home and curling up in a corner somewhere. "I'll...see you later-"

"Wait."

"...hm?"

He stopped and looked over his shoulder, still feeling quite depressed but willing to listen to whatever you wanted to say.

You set the painting on a nearby table, approaching him with your heart constrained with guilt. "Look, Wally..I know you think I hate you or something, but...that's not true."

"It...isn't?" He blinked.

"I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. There's just been...a lot of my mind lately. Things I can't really talk about just yet..I-I don't know. It's hard to explain. But the point is...I really do wanna be your friend. I guess I'm just...a very "guarded" person if that makes sense."

Although Wally was staring at you yet again, you didn't break eye contact, wanting him to know you're being genuine here. "I don't open up easy, but I know you've...helped me a lot, and I appreciate that. I do keep your paintings and I do feel bad for being a jerk to you sometimes. So...think you can forgive me? I'll even allow this if you want."

When he saw you open your arms up to him, he was frozen for a few long moments, astonishment written all over his face.

He just...didn't know what to say. Not only did you actually like his company, but....

He was allowed to hug you??

"..c'mon, pal. My arms are kinda getting tired." You awkwardly smiled, although you blinked as he suddenly latched onto you, letting out a few sniffles.

He wanted to sob so badly, but knew that wouldn't be very "neighborly" of him.

Yet you heard how he sounded, and felt guilty for treating him as some bad guy...when really he didn't seem malicious at all. You wanted to believe he had good intentions.

Whether or not he also knew the truth behind this place...that didn't matter right now.

He just wanted to be your friend.

You'll never be happy if you kept being so afraid of him all the time. That wasn't any life to live, even if you're unsure of whether this was your only life or not.

But you let him hug you anyways, patting his back.

"Th-This is very nice of you, neighbor. I forgive you." He mumbled, cheek squished against your shoulder as he clung to you tightly, never wanting to let go-

"Thanks......okay, you can let go now."

"..o-oh! Right, sorry." Reluctantly, Wally let you go, rubbing his eyes before dusting off his cardigan, breathing a sigh of relief. "Whew! I'm glad we're on better terms now. But...if I may ask..what changed?"

"Ah, well..I was talking with Frank and Eddie earlier..and I asked them about you."

"Huh....?" He pointed to himself, raising an invisible eyebrow. "Me..?"

"Yeah. Since they're more chill than most of the people here, I feel like I can be myself around them." You explained. "Howdy and Julie are kinda too loud for me, so...yeah. Those guys pushed me to reach out to you and try to make this friendship work...instead of the other way around."

'So...that's what they were talking about..' He realized, though he beamed anyways, happy you took their advice.

"Well that's great! I think we'll become great friends, [y/n]!" Smiling, he offered his hand to you, and you shook it as a way of saying you're both willing to start over.

"I..think so, too, Wally." You smiled back, feeling this huge weight being lifted off your shoulders.

"So...do you wanna come visit Home when the weather clears?"

"...I'll pass. But I'll wave to 'em from afar if that's okay."

"It's fine by me, neighbor."

#clanask #welcome home x reader #wally darling #wally darling x reader #platonic

[starlight-writer]

Randomly Cuddling Them

A/n: Hahaha hiiii (⁠；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠）it's meeeee I'm baaaaack In all seriousness, I've been dealing with a shit ton of stuff and summer depression is kicking my ass. I'm sorry I haven't posted in ages even when I promised I would, I just haven't been able to motivate myself to write. I won't promise you guys a schedule or another fic anytime soon, but I will say that I have no intentions of deleting this blog or stopping writing all together. Just be patient with me and to those who have requested things, I'm sorry I haven't answered them. They'll all come in due time :) In the meantime, have some fluff to make you forget about your depression.

Warnings: none, fluff, slight angst(?)

Gn Reader Masterlist

Steven

Welcomes the cuddle with open arms

He'll ask if you’re ok a few times, just wanting to make sure his darling is feeling well

He'll pet your hair and start talking about his day or a new book he's read to fill the silence

"You wouldn't believe the ending though! The main character has to sacrifice his "

Just sort of talks about anything to fill the comfortable silence, hoping it'll distract you from anything that's stressing you out

Definitely playfully brags to Jake and Marc in the headspace during and after the cuddles

"They wanted to cuddle with me :D"

Once you're ready to pull away, he'll give you a kiss on the forehead and continue reading or whatever it was before, but keeps an eye on you

He isn't sure what brought on the cuddles, and while he loves them, he wants to make sure you're ok

If you start looking upset or frustrated with a task, he'll gently pull you away from whatever you're doing and sit you on the couch

"Lovey, you can finish it later, just sit with me for a bit yeah?"

He'll pull you into his chest and read aloud from his book or ramble about something to distract you

He'll play with your fingers, interlacing them and kissing your finger tips before holding your hand to his face

"Love you, darling"

He'll say in the sweetest voice, you'll forget all about the stresses of the day or the stresses of tomorrow

Mission accomplished

Marc

He's a little caught off guard, but pulls you into his arms eagerly

He'll never turn down cuddles (cough touch starved cough)

He'll run his fingers through your hair or rub his hand up and down your back

He'll ask if you're ok, but won't push past that

He'll stay silent unless you ask him to talk

"Uh... I saw a lizard earlier today. It reminded me of you cause it was cute :)"

He's trying his best

If you stay in his arms for a long period of time, he'll start to think something might be wrong so he'll start making really really bad jokes

"I went to the deli earlier and the sausage they gave me was the wurst :D"

He won't stop until you laugh and he's not above tickling you until you pee your pants

It's like he unlocks a little box inside his head of terrible jokes and playfulness just for the purpose of seeing you smile

After the cuddles session, he'll watch over you carefully

If you start looking stressed or tired or anything but relaxed, he'll pop off with another joke

"Ya know, babe, I used to hate facial hair. But then it grew on me."

Is that a frown on your perfect lips? Not on his watch

"I don't think I told you this before, but I used to be able to play piano by ear. Now I have to play it with my hands."

Eventually, if you start looking too stressed, he'll just pull you into another cuddle session

"Can't have my baby getting stressed."

He'll explain, kissing you on the forehead and shushing you if you try to leave

He'll carry you to bed or the couch, locking you underneath him with his head on your chest

"So comfy, might just fall asleep here."

He snores loudly, trying to coax a giggle or two out of you

And when you fall asleep from the warmth he gives off, he'll watch you with love in his eyes

"Goodnight, babe. I love you."

Jake

There're two ways this could go depending on how he feels

He could be very smug about it, hold you tightly to his chest, mutter things like 'poor bebito/a, so needy for their Papi~' and make sexual or teasing jokes to lighten the mood

Or he could hold you securely in his arms, run his fingers across your back, occasionally kiss your head, and ask in a hushed voice 'what's wrong, mi amor?'

He thrives on physical affection, so either way he's incredibly happy to give it to you

Whether it be a quick kiss, setting his hand on the small of your back as he walks by, resting his hand on your thigh as he drives, or just touching your knee with his in a crowded space, he loves all of it

And depending on why you suddenly held onto him, he'll be very attentive

If he's making jokes when you just want to be held, he'll pick up in it right away and mutter a small apology with a kiss

He'll hum a song he heard on the radio, he'll keep his breathing long and slow to help calm you down if needed, he'll even read you one of Steven's 'boring' books

He's like Marc in a way, they'll both do absolutely everything in their power to make you smile or laugh if the situation calls for it

If you've gotten your fill of cuddles and start to pull away, he'll pout and pull you back down, muttering something about feeling cold without you on top of him

Which is a lie, they run extremely hot which has cancelled many cuddle sessions in the summer because 'It's too hot, Jake! And don't give me those puppy eyes!'

He refuses to let you go until you explicitly tell him you want him to

He'll act all sad, but he lets you go after a passionate kiss

Openly watches you closely afterwards, determined to see any slip of annoyance or frustration so he can whisk you away to your shared room and cuddle the stress away

And the second your brow twitches in frustration, he's coming up behind you and hugging you

"Bebito/a, dance with me."

He'll say, already swaying to the music playing in his head

He'll spin you around and subtly drag you away from the chore or work you were doing with a charming smile and his swaying hips

When you've rested your head on his chest and sigh softly, following the shuffling of his feet and sway of his hips, he knows he's succeeded in calming you down

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #marc spector #marvel #jake lockley #moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley x gn!reader #marc spector x gn!reader #steven grant x gn!reader #starlight writes

[blood-grove]

odd adjustments

prev <- part 2 -> part 3

adoptive!soap and ghost + adopted!reader

× pairing: soapghost

× summary: the now retired couple decides that there house is feeling a bit empty besides there two cats and german shepard.

× tws: medication, mentions of ptsd, angst, minor injuries

The ride was long they lived ways out from the city which would be a change of pace and scenery.

Simon was quiet through the drive the silence wasn't uncomfortable it was nice you found yourself dozing off here and there along the trip jostled awake by the sudden bumpiness of the road glancing out of the window to see you were pulling up into a gravel drive way.

You grumbled quietly mainly out of tiredness you caught Simons eyes in the car mirror checking up on you as he parked.

"You can head inside out of the rain I'll grab the bags." Simon said as he promptly got out of the car with his own umbrella.

You quickly did the same heading over to the house where a cat waited behind the glass door seeing you it left.

Aw.

The door opened luckily it was unlocked as you stepped inside wiping your feet off on the mat setting your dripping umbrella into the umbrella holder nearby awkwardly shifting around as you stepped into the short hallway glancing around at the pictures on the walls as you made it to the living room the house was quiet aside from the movement upstairs which you could assume was possibly John.

You felt increasingly awkward as you glanced around flinching once the door opened once more Simon coming in holding both your bag and suitcase gently brushing past you as he sat them next to the stairs glancing back at you.

"You can sit anywhere you'd like" He hummed as he headed upstairs and so you did that sitting down on the couch as you slipped your phone from out of your pocket it was a bit cracked but it worked.

You eventually heard footsteps coming down John coming into the room with the grin you remembered.

You found the mohawk funny.

"It's nice ta' finally have you here!..I made some food so you can eat if you want or If your tired yer bedroom is upstairs first on the right its bare bones for now since we didn't know what ye'd like to decorate it with."

His accent was funny.

Oh you should answer.

"Uh um.." You just mumbled which got you a confused look with just made you tense which he noticed.

"Oh ah sorry forgot to mention- Cant hear very well out of my right ear n all supposed to be getting a new hearing aid soon So you may need to shout ever now and then—"

"I'm uh kind of hungry." You spoke up a bit more which John luckily heard this time

"Oh! Good Ah didnae waant the food tae git tae cauld even if its just sandwiches."

This wasn't as awkward as you thought it'd be.

You had eaten chatted up with John a bit more he was a nice guy a lot more talkative than Simon but you knew that from the interviews.

Simon had come down as well not without John badgering his to sit down something about his leg and medication you weren't too nosy.

He'd seemed to be getting the dog situated as he brought her down Riley was her name wasn't it?.

She was a German Shepard you thought as you stretched out your hand towards her with a glance at Simon she sniffed it before licking your hand you guess it smelt like the deli meats from the sandwich.

You scratched behind her ear as her tail wagged.

You'd put up with the awkwardness of adjusting to here for the dog.

Simon and John started talking about something as you pet Riley the rain hadn't really let up and began to pour down a bit harder thunder rumbling out as John mumbled something to Simon the man getting up with a grunt and headed back down the hall.

"He's just going to check if we have lanterns in case the power gives out." You flinched as John spoke you didn't even realize you were staring where Simon had left you just nodded.

"You can go up to your room y'know still early in the day plus so you can unpack and unwind n' all." John glanced at you as he spoke you just nodded again maybe too quickly getting up Riley leaving your side and heading down where Simon had went.

You felt nauseous laying in bed so many things running threw your head.

Also there was a cat on your bed.

You were pretty sure this was Old man, The gruff appearance and the near mustache and beard combo look in his fur fur and the greying hairs.

You held you hand out for him to smell and he just looked at you with near human unamusement.

You pulled your hand back and went back to thinking.

Right.

God what were you thinking about even?

These are good people.

This room is good.

This house is good.

The animals are better.

Why do you have to start spiraling now? Always sinking yourself into doom spiralling.

Hypothetical's that made no sense as the storm just picked up outside.

You grumbled as you got up and started to search through your suitcase Old man had hoped down to watch you as you swallowed trying to ignore the nauseous feeling your now sweaty hands find your medication.

You fumble with the cap always forgetting how to open it before you finally pop it off and dig out a couple of pills swallowing them dry even if you know you shouldn't.

You just tried to focus on not hurling on your new floor taking deep inhales as you shakily dug your fingers into the carpet below sniffling.

Fuck.

a/n: idk why i had to leave on a sad end ALSO I LIED ITS GETTING MORE PARTS

#cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soap cod #ghost cod #soapghost #child reader #platonic relationships #platonic love #familial love #fanfic #reader #gn reader #no use of y/n #dad simon riley #dad john mactavish

[theorphicangel]

Ahhhhh congrats my dearest Angel!!! I'm so happy for you 💖 can I request for 'you got me flowers?' and 'your heart is beating so fast right now.' from the fluff prompts? Thank you and I love everything that you do <3

— Rei <3 @levi-supreme

hiii rei tysm for sending in an ask for my event ahhh! also I’m sorry this is like five months late…but I hope you like it nonetheless mwah mwah ❤️

You’ve had many bad days at work. Not an overwhelming amount, but you’ve experienced a few that’s made you want to curl up in bed for the rest of your life and not want to interact with a single human being ever again.

You’re not really sure what sin you’ve committed recently for the universe to have it out for you as soon as you woke up this morning. But you think it was bad enough to have you on your knees begging for mercy by the end of the day.

Bitter coffee, burnt toast and an annoying stain on your work clothes is the limit that you could cope with. Unexpected rain without your emergency umbrella, having to refill your car suddenly and a mountain of paperwork to deal with, is enough to definitely set your nerves on edge. But dealing with that one bitchy coworker, as well as constant complaints and backhanded compliments about your work from your manager was enough to set your emotions astray.

The worst of it all was forgetting your lunch that you took the time to prep the night before. You let out a groan, your palms covering your face in complete surrender. You’ve just had enough of this day already.

Just before you rose from your office chair to go grab an emergency lunch from the deli down the street, your phone vibrated with a text message. With a sigh, you had immediately planned not to respond at all but that was before you saw that it was from Levi.

Leviiiiiiiii <333: [sent 12:36pm]

- You left your lunch in the fridge.

That reminder was enough for your anger to rebubble on the surface again, despite that not being Levi’s intention.

You: [sent 12:37pm]

- I figured that out thanks.

It wasn’t like you to respond that way at all but given that you’ve been rushing around on your feet all morning without a single break and had been given a mountain pile of paperwork, you figure that there would be no one on earth who would be the happiest right now.

Leviiiiiiiii <333: [sent 12:37pm]

- Are you alright?

That question alone was enough to have your eyes watering. You hesitate in your reply, biting down on your bottom lip as you look at the screen, your thumbs frozen over the keyboard.

Should you be honest or lie about it?

But who would you be kidding? This is Levi after all. A man who knows you inside out, who can tell your mood based on the amount of emojis you send when you text.

You: [sent at 12:40pm]

- No, I’m not. Work is so shitty right now. I want to go home.

It doesn’t take long for him to reply; one of the many, many reasons as to why you love this man so much. Reading his text, your heart practically swells at his words.

Leviiiiiiiii <333: [sent 12:41pm]

- Want me to pick you up? Or drop off your lunch?

Instead of tears, your lips tilt into a smile. God, you’re so happy that you’re married to him.

You: Sent at 12:41pm]

- No, no it’s fine, I have a shit ton of work to do and if I don’t get it done today it’ll just pile on for next week and that’ll stress me out even more.

Your thumbs click send before typing out another text.

- Also, I’ll grab lunch at the deli xx :)

Leviiiiiiiii <333: [sent 12:42pm]

- If you’re sure?

You reinforce that you are with a message of simple thumbs up emoji.

Leviiiiiiiii <333: [sent 12:42pm]

- Take out and movie tonight?

You: [sent 12:43pm]

- I would love that. :)))))

You reply, a real smile now stretching across your lips. This immediately brightens up your mood and gives you something to look forward to. With a positive outlook, you stand to get your lunch. Only five more hours of this shit and you’ll be free.

You can do this.

–

Home.

You quite like the way it sounds.

Home. It’s your safe place. A place where you can truly let go and be who you are without judgment or stress surrounding you constantly.

Your shoulders droop as you come to stand in front of your apartment door, your key in hand, positioned over the lock. Inserting the key, you twist. and when you hear a click, simultaneously push the door open.

“I’m home.” You announce breathlessly, not hesitating in slipping out of your shoes.

The sound of slippers shuffling on the oak hardwood floor grows louder as Levi approaches you. The first thing that catches your eye as he rounds the corner is a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand.

Your face lights up immediately, an inaudible gasp leaving your mouth. “You got me flowers?” And if you thought your heart bursted earlier today at his actions you were sure that it had completely gone to ruins by now.

A light blush reaches Levi’s cheeks and stretches all the way to the tips of his ear. “Ye-yeah.” he coughs a little shyly. “I was passing by the florist and I saw them on display.”

Your lips pout in complete affection for him as you take the flowers into your hands. “You really didn’t have to.”

He merely shrugs.“You were having a bad day, it’s the least–

Levi doesn’t get the chance to finish off his sentence as you randomly wrap your arms around him, your head landing on his chest. You take him by surprise at your sudden energy and he stumbles back a few steps before regaining his balance.

You squeeze him tightly, eyes watering as you mumble your thanks, “I really don’t deserve you y’know?”

You hear Levi tut and feel his hand pat your head softly. “Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s true. “ you say. “I do not deserve you, Levi Ackerman.”

“Don’t get over sentimental about it, brat.”

“Your heart begs to differ.“ you point at his chest. “Your heart is beating so fast right now.”

“No it’s not.”

“I can hear–”

Levi pulls you away from his chest, clearly embarrassed. You miss the pink tinge on his cheeks deepen in shade as he turns around. “Go shower, you stink.”

“Awh, don’t be embarrassed, Le’. I really love them. Thank you.”

He says nothing more and trails off to the kitchen, the sound of his slippers smacking against the hardware floor again. You chuckle to yourself as you head towards your bedroom.

–

Today was a bad day.

Was.

It was until you were stuck with your lover on the couch, forcing him to watch your favorite soppy rom-com to cheer you up. Boxes of unfinished takeout lay on the coffee table ahead of you, a temptation to save them for tomorrow’s leftover.

Tilting your head, you turn to face him, a soft smile across your lips.

“What?” Levi grumbles. “Don’t look at me like that, I hate this movie.”

“But you watch with me everytime.”

“Yeah, because you get all soppy and cry at the ending.”

“So you act as my emotional support?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, something like that.”

You let out a chuckle at his words, completely unaware that he was serious. Little did you know that he held a pack of tissues in his left hand, that would magically appear to you as soon as the credits would roll on the screen and tears would roll down your face.

“I love you, Levi.” you say, resting your head on his chest.

Once again, you heard his heart rate increase. Yet this time you won’t mention it, sparing him from embarrassment.

“Unfortunately, I love you too.”

“Hey, don’t be mean!”

angel’s 500 event masterlist.

#angel’s 500 event #angel writes #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi attack on titan #attack on titan #levi x you #aot x reader #snk levi #aot levi #attack on titan season 4 #attack on titan levi #levi aot #aot fic #aot fandom

[writinginthetwilight]

You Look Good In Green.

Eddie Munson x Bartender! Fem! Reader.

>>Summery: Between a deli and a laundromat in down town Indianapolis, a bar sits unassuming. Almost derelict looking from the outside, to the untrained eye. But by night shes a different beast.

>>Author note: This is my first ever time posting my writing and I am terrified.

But this story has been floating around my head for at least 18 months and I've finally gotten the courage to get it down.

I'm dyslexic as shit so I'm sorry if their are any mistakes, but sometimes even spell check and Grammerly can't help me. Enjoy.

>>Series warnings: 18+ only, strangers to friends to lovers, jealous!Eddie, jealous!Reader, fluff, pining, angst, drinking, smoking of the devil's lettuce, strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, slow burn.

Chapter 2

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1 - Late

As late September arrives, so does a yearly nostalgia. The unforgiving summer sun gives way to cool fall air and it filters into the days with muted colours and spiced smells. 

A whisper of a suggestion of what's to come. Promises of long nights and short days, curled up indoors hidden from the elements. 

But late September is a trap. 

A trap you are currently caught in, a trap of an unnecessary amount of layers as you rush down the street, weaving between people and ripping the olive green knitted hat from your head, sweat beading at your hairline. 

Quiet curses come from you as your bag slips down your arm, sending you twisting off kilter and stumbling forward. 

This wasn't how this morning was meant to go. 

This wasn't the plan, you had wanted a leisurely breakfast, shower and moisturise, maybe fit in a few errands on the way to work. 

But now you were late and warm, the deceptive cool air vanquished by a clear day and the midday sun. 

Turning the corner you rush towards the bus stop, with just enough time to join the last of the passengers  as they board. Letting out a sigh of relief your chest burns with the excursion as you finally settle for the first time today. 

Sweet soft hazy waking had been ripped from you with a punch of adrenaline at the sight of your radio alarm clock. 

Plain bread straight from the packet, mismatched clothes, a gargle of mouthwash, spilt kibble scittered across the linoleum floor and then you were out the door. 

The bus hissed and took off. You shed the rest of your layers and placed  soft headphones over your ears, closing your eyes you let Iron Maidens Wasted Years calm you. Light dancing behind your eyelids, stuttering between the buildings that pass. 

The first stop comes and you feel yourself  jostling to a stop, the increase in chatter on the once sparsely populated bus is muted behind your music and you eyes lazily open to glance at the new passengers. 

A woman with a tight perm, dressed head to toe in soft pink boards. Her mouth moves quickly talking to the driver as she rifles through bags, gathering her things and turning, her eyes survey the bus. She catches your eye and you look away quickly, but it's too late.

From your peripheral you see movement and before you have a chance to process, pink clothes and plastic grocery bags are encroaching on your 20 minutes of rest. Bewildered, you look up and back away from the woman, pulling you headphones from your head.

"-and it's just so lovely-” she says, shoving a bag into the ever decreasing space around your knees  “- I can't resist you know." She slumps heavily into the chair turning to face you expectantly. 

"Yeah." you say unsure as to what you're agreeing to, she beams and pats your knee.

You twist awkwardly against the inordinate amount of grocery bags which have been stuffed into the space around your legs. You're not an ass, if the bus is busy and somebody needs the space next to you, you don't mind polite chit chat. 

But you weren't prepared for this.

You thought the empty seats surrounding you and headphones would be enough to guarantee 20 minutes of solitude. Enough time to mourn the morning you had wanted and collect yourself. Evidently you were wrong. 

June she's called, but her birthdays in 3 weeks, she informs you with a chuckle. She smells of rose soap and jingles when the bus goes over speed bumps. She has three grown sons and her Liam would just love you. 5 grand kids and a pocket full of cloudy white hard candies that click against her teeth when she talks.

 You can barely get a word in, so stop trying, and as the heat through the bus window prickles your neck, you get antsy, over-stimulated and finally you stand abruptly.

“This is my stop.” you say stumbling awkwardly trying not to trample over the woman's bags as you escape the seat next to her 

She makes no effort to move. “Oh, oh okay honey, well you take care now.” you  give her a quick tight smile pulling the cord and quickly making your way off the bus to the street below.

This isn't your stop.

You stare up at the clear sky, jacket and bag fisted in your hands. With a sigh you fish out your tape deck and begin to walk.

...

Gus's bar sits squat and unassuming between a deli and laundromat in downtown Indianapolis, no sign or name other than the red neon open sign which sits askew in the right side window. When you finally arrive after the 15 minute walk, which you really didn't need before a 10 hour shift, the door squeals as you make your way indoors.

The usual low lights of the dark wood interior are off in favour of the bright main ones and you frown in confusion as you make your way over to the bar. Dumping your belongings atop, a toolbox and loose bolts lay haphazardly beside them. That's when you recognise the distinct lack of bar railing. 

You're drawn to the light filtering in under the door at the end of the bar and the low murmur of music gets louder as you approach.

“Afternoon.”  Gus gruffly greets you without looking up as you push open the door.

The poor excuse of an office, more of a cupboard really, is already overfilled. Stuffed floor to ceiling with stock and files, broken pitchers gathering dust and fading post it notes that were here long before you. 

Now the mountain of a man before you has dragged in the brass railing which sits across his lap, almost scratching the ceiling.

He glances up to you when you don't respond, pushing up his glasses to the top of his head. 

“What are you doing?" you say from your place leaning against the door frame.

He shrugs. “Decided to give it a polish up.”

“And you're in here because?”

“ Chairs in here.” he says simply as he leans back into the peeling red leather seat with a groan, as if to illustrate his point. 

“But why did you remove it? “

“Jazz darling, if I get down out there I ain't getting back up.”

“But you had to get it off so, surely you would have to- You know what it doesn't matter, next time wait for me.” 

He hums, your lateness is unmentioned but obviously noticed, he glances you up and down. 

“You look like hell.”

“Thanks” you say dryly and make your way to the back of the room, squeezing behind his chair, ducking your way under the railing as you go

“So, what's the occasion”you say flipping through an order file, “these guys special or something.”

Gus snorts, “If Angie's last pick is anything to go by. No.”

You grimace at the memory of the letchy men who had arrived last week, faces painted and loud. They had  wailed KISS while you and Gus watched on with pained smiles until he finally stopped them, and told them he'd be in touch. 

“What time are they coming?”

“Two, got deliveries due soon though”, you nod, taking that as your cue to get on and make your way out. 

He catches your arm gently before you can leave, tattooed hand holding you back.

“You good?” he says and his face holds a softness he doesnt dole out to many.

You deflate slightly, releasing the tension you were still holding onto. 

 “Yeah” you say smiling at him, he looks at you for a beat, nods and lets you go.

You busy yourself with signing for deliveries and putting them away, the weekly tasks that are muscle memory now, working in tandem with Gus in a rhythm made over the past 4 years. Music and banter fills the gaps. Footsteps echoing around the large space, which despite what it may look like from the outside sprawls back and out, well kept and clean.

It's a different beast in the day. Quiet and still, shadows that usually hide at the edges and corners laid bare.

....

Thursdays night have been your baby for around 18 months now. Gifted to you after a particularly nasty fight, where Angie demanded Gus give you more responsibility. A balm for the fact that he spent every night at the bar, and although she loved the place, she wants time alone with him, or at least the option.

When Gus had been satisfied that you could handle the place with the help of a couple of extra bar staff if needed and the door man George, he had agreed, in theory, to let you plan the nights as you wanted. As long as he was kept in the loop. 

College kids and people who worked the weekend shift appreciated your deals on drinks and open mic nights. With new regulars and enough turn over to rival the weekend Gus had tentatively agreed to finding you a regular band to play.

It had all been duds so far, heavier bands you sought after out of town or only passing through. Others already had a place in rotation at the weekends and they didn't much like the idea of downgrading to a Thursday. The other, just, hadn't been great.

Around quarter to two you and Gus set up the stage, which was really more of a oversized box step, and waited. 

For 45 minutes, they were 45 minutes late. Gus had eventually gone back to his office grumbling to let him know if they showed up, and as 3 o'clock approached you would soon be opening up so you went about getting the bar ready to serve.

You heard them before you saw them, the dishwashers cycle coming to and end in tandem with the last of a raucous argument which petered out the further through the door the voices came. You poked your head out from the back and spotted them looking around the space as they spoke at a more tempered volume.

“Can I help gentlemen?” you walk out behind the bar to observe them. They all turn and one separates, raising his hand to the others as he approaches you.  Long dark curls frame his face and he makes immediate eye contact.

“Hi sweetheart” he starts with a tip of his head. There's a familiarity in his eye which confuses you but you only raise your eyebrows in response. He straightens eyes searching yours. “we're here to see Gus.”

He's pretty, and once upon a time the charm which obviously rolls off him would have made your face heat and voice stutter, but now, well, you've met a lot of pretty faces.

“And we are?” You say with a small smile and his face falls for half a second but he recovers quickly. Smoothing his hands over the bar, large rings on his fingers softly scraping the wood. 

“Corroded Coffin”

You lean on the bar towards him and he grins back at you, “You're late.”

He falters fully now and  the rest of the band comes to his rescue. 

“We’re sorry about that, we got turned around and the traffic was terrible”  one of them says coming up on the right, he has dark skin and sincere eyes and you watch as the other two members come in on the left one stocky, pale with tight curls and the other looks a little younger, more flustered and they nod their heads quickly in agreement. 

You look over them all, your annoyance diminishing slightly at the realisation that they all look flustered. Pot kettle black you think and lean away from them. 

“Gus! The talents here!” 

They all jump back at the sound of Gus appearing into the room

“ Boys!” his voice booms in a timbre which fills the empty bar. 

They all scramble to greet him, spilling apologies and exchanging four of the most awkward handshakes you've ever seen.  Introductions are made and you give a small wave as Gus tells them you run Thursday nights so your opinion will be equally as important.

They look small next to Gus for all their leather and chains,  but at six and a half feet most do. 

“So, we've only got around 20 minutes before we open up so let's get this started” he says with a clap of his hands and they all nod and head over to the stage.

You watch them amused as Gus sits himself on the opposite side of the bar and claps his hands again, “Okay boys when you're ready.”

The opening bars to War Pigs has you holding the urge to roll your eyes, but Gus gives a satisfied nod and you wonder if Angie had possibly given a few pointers for the songs they should play.

“Generals gathered in their masses. Just like witches at black masses”

The opening lines have you and Gus turning to each other with wide eyes.

This guy has pipes. Their nerves are still evident but they start to relax into it as you and Gus nod along with the beat.

About half way in, Gus holds up his hand and cuts the song short. “We maybe don't need the whole 8 minute rendition today.” he says with a chuckle.

You smile at them and Eddie stammers “Yeah. Hah, no, yeah, of course." Shaking his head he turns back to the band. They all communicate silently and the start of Metallicas For Whom The Bell Tolls rings out. 

Gus, does not with hold his eye roll when he turns to see you grinning. Angie's definitely had a word. The boys see your face and they all exchange a look as they get into the meat of the song. Gus's head bobs despite himself but when his arm goes up to stop them again you slap it down mouthing don't at him. 

They end with a flourish and you give them a small round of applause to which they bow.

“Okay boys we got time for one more.”

This one, you don't recognise, and you assume its an original and has obviously been chosen to show each of them off. Guitars shredding, drums crashing, it's shorter but impressive nonetheless.

When they finish you both give them another small round of  applause before Gus slaps his knees and stands, arching his back with a crack. 

“Well boys you've definitely got some talent,” he makes his way over and they beam at him “give me some time to think. I'll be in touch.”

It sounds dismissive and from the smiles dying on their faces, you know they hear it too, it makes your chest ache. Gathering up their belongings a silence falls over the bar.

You lean forward on the tips of your toes gripping the opposite side of the bar “Get their number” you say with a quiet hiss.

“What?” Gus says,with a look on his face you can't decipher, either he doesn't know why you're saying what you are or he genuinely didn't hear.

Regardless you say a little louder “You haven't got their number.”  they all look over at you this time and Gus’s face says he heard you the first time.

As he walks over to you, you can't help the satisfied smirk, he scowls and plucks the pen you offer from your fingers. 

When all is said and done you wave them goodbye with a tight smile on your face the door squeaking closed behind them. 

Gus turns, throwing his thumb over his shoulder.  “That needs oiling.”

...

As the afternoon bleeds into evening so do the low lights and regulars who prop up the bar. The jukebox and clacking of pool balls are background noise to your pleads.

“They play one Metallica song”, Gus says as he heaves a barrel out of the back. 

“Well Gus, they played it well.”

He hisses holding his back and turning to you as you stand arms crossed and frowning.

“Dave and the boys-”

“Don't come in on thursdays!” you say throwing your arms up in exasperation.

As if summoned, Dave gingerly moves to the bar. “Can I get another Jazz?” Gus takes this as his escape slipping out from behind the bar and quickly across the room disappearing into a booth.

You grit your teeth “Yeah coming up Dave”. You except defeat.

The evening moves on and Gus stays in place with Dave and Phil appearing from drinks which you serve to him in silence. Sulking you busy yourself with polishing glasses.

“How'd my boy do!?” Angie's voice appears from behind and you turn to see her leaning on the bar. Eyes shining bright and mischievous. 

“Your boy?” you say moving to fix her a drink

“Eddie, long hair” she says combing long purple nails through her own dark curls.

“Intense eyes?” 

She clicks her tongue at you and winks “How'd they do.”

“Good actually, really good.”

“Yeah?” she claps her palms excitedly “I told him!”, she looks around “where is the big grizzle.”

“Hiding.” you say sliding over her dink and popping a cigarette between your lips.

“Hiding?” she half laughs “Why?” You give her a knowing look and she rolls her eyes in annoyance.

“Where is he?” she says, looking around and spotting him, his head’s ducked back facing her.

“Hey Angie.” Phil says brightly and Dave elbows him as Gus winces at the mention of her name. 

“What the hell.” she grabs Gus by the shoulder forcing him to look at her and his two friends slip out of the booth quietly.

“Ang.”

“Don't you Ang me. Those boys are good and don't tell me they're not because I know you ain't a liar.”

“They're kids” he defends and she throws her head back.

“My boy is 24 years old and the others ain't far behind.”

“Exactly” he says and she looks at him frowning, making a sweeping motion to you and you look over, confused. 

“they weren't wearing face paint!” You yell over making Gus bark out a laugh while Angie sends you a glare that makes you duck away. 

She settles in beside him and places her hand over his “Give them a shot.”

“They were almost an hour late Ang” he whines and she bristles beside him.

“Almost an hour?!” She bites her lip and squeezes his hand.

“One night, a trial run, unpaid. Please.”

He sighs scrubbing his hand over his shaved head. 

“One night.”

....

The drive home had started fine but turned sombre as the adrenaline faded, arriving home to their shared apartment with little to no conversation the band split off into their respective rooms for the rest of the afternoon.

Eddie lays staring at the water mark on his ceiling. Mind a skipping record. 

They had played well, he knows that.

But between Gareth losing his mind over trying to find his lucky drumsticks ten minutes before they needed to leave, and a wrong turn which meant they had to loop round half the city, he'd sworn to the guys he knew the way almost boasted, he'd been there before. But in daylight the roads were congested and if Jeff had said ‘ we’re going to be late’ one more time.

Then you hadn't remembered him, it was stupid, you'd barely spoken before really, but. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. He couldn't face Angie tomorrow. 

A soft rapping on his door pulls his attention, without a response it creaks open and a solitary hand appears into the room, a joint placed between the fingers. 

He huffs a laugh and scrubs away at the sting of frustrated tears.

Opening the door Grant stands mouth twisted to the side and Eddie plucks the joint from his fingers mutely and walks to the living room knocking on his other two housemates on the way. 

In slow succession all the boys seat themselves around the small TV, splayed out on beanbags and the threadbare second hand couch they had hauled up the building just last week.

Blue light bathing over them they lazily pass the joint around and finally the silence is slowly broken with ribbing comments and contagious laughter.

The sudden shrill ring of the phone has all the boys stopping stock still, minds catching up with themselves, looking at one another. It rings again and they all scramble up and over to it.

Eddie grabs the phone, knuckles white as he grips it “Hello?”

The bar is a low murmur in the background for a beat “Hi are the uhh-,” Gus’s voice trails away and it has Eddie's heart pounding, he grips his hair at the crown of his head as the rest of the band huddle in. There's muffled voices and he swears he can hear you and Angie's voices faintly “ Is this the corroded coffin boys?” Gus tries again.

“That's us”  he almost yells, hand releasing his hair as he winces.

Gus chuckles and it vibrates down the line “You boys free Thursday?”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fem!reader #my writing #first fiction #Bartender!Reader #fanfic #fan fiction

[anamenooneowns]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖MEETING JJ

an: another moodboard/ficlet ig? is this allowed? um, youre from nyc in this one and moved to the obx, yeah. if you didnt get the memo either with the moodboard you're black and you say a few words in Spanish bc youre also hispanic (idk how to speak Spanish so if its wrong i'm apologizing beforehand😃) enjoy!

DNI IF YOU DO NOT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO. THIS BLOCK BUTTON GOES BRAZY

"Ma, why'd we move here again?" you groaned, tugging at your shirt to generate some sort of cool air as you walked in the sun.

Your mother ignored your question after having answered it for the umpteenth time. Rent was rising crazily in NYC and it was getting more dangerous by the day. And your family down here that she had lost contact with due to her own mother practically begged your mother to come back down and just move in, so that's exactly what your parents did.

The culture down South was something you weren't acclimated to. In NYC, people kept their heads down and kept it pushing, but you were perceived here. 'Good morning/afternoon/evening' along with 'Sir' and 'Ma'am' were integrating themselves into your vocabulary. Still, it was obvious these folks didn't exactly... like you. They didn't like the way you dressed with multiple gold chains on your neck and rings galore, or the fact that your nails were so long, and too many old people commented that they could hang onto your hoops.

It was annoying.

"Oh, mama, go into the beauty supply right there and see if they have products for our hair. Here- take this to pay for it, and get us some drinks too from the deli, it's hot as hell out here," your mother ushered you away, pushing three twenties into your hand.

You sighed and turned on your heel, going into the beauty supply and greeting the cashier before scanning the shelves. Thankfully, they had all the products your family used and it came out much cheaper than it would have in your old store when you paid for it. Next was the store at the corner of the strip mall. Your mother drove you out here since you definitely wouldn't find what you guys needed in the rich part of the island so you had to come to what your extended family called 'The Cut'.

"Dude, I-I'm tellin' you this is the right idea, when have I ever led you astr- fuck," a voice hissed.

You gasped as something wet poured down your front, ruining your crop-top and getting you sticky in the process. Slowly, you looked up, mean mug getting even meaner as you glared at some blond who was looking down at you with his eyes wide and pink lips parted like a damn fish, some other boy behind him.

You were yelling at him, that much he could tell, but all he could see was some phantom light shining behind you and making you look even more ethereal in presence and all he could hear was 'Sha la la la la, la laaaa'.

"He-fucking-llo?" you hissed, snapping your fingers in his face. "Does he have a brain or something?" was directed at his tall, brown-haired friend who sputtered as he tried to apologize for JJ, elbowing him.

"I... huh? Oh, shit! I'm sorry, my bad," he grabbed tissues and started to dry your own shirt for you making you freeze up, eyes widening while John B watched in literal horror as his dumbass best friend dabbed the paper towels against your chest.

Smack!

"Eres un idiota," was the last thing you said before leaving.

And JJ was touching his cheek and looking at the door where you left like a lovesick puppy as your fragrance of vanilla and shea butter lingered. "Dude... I think I'm in love."

an: comments and reblogs are appreciated! thanks for reading💕

#jj maybank x reader #obx jj maybank #jj maybank #x black reader #x black!reader #outerbanks jj

[starker-raving-mads]

For You: Part IX

im so sorry this took so long but everyone can thank @madeforstarker for kicking me in the ass to get it done. Thank you, princess <3

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX

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Peter didn't see Tony for three days.

This was partially his fault. His initial reaction to The Bedroom Incident, as he was calling it, was to flee the entire building, his feet scurrying him to May's apartment early the following morning. He spent a good few hours with his aunt - something he didn't actually regret, though the reason for the new time together soured it a little for him - and when she left for work he left for patrol. It was probably his longest patrol yet, capping off at 6 hours, and while it felt good to stretch his muscles and help the people of Queens, his mind constantly drifted back to The Bedroom Incident.

He couldn't face Tony after that.

And yet he couldn't not.

After weeks of living in the penthouse, it felt like home. It was the only place he felt well and truly free and comfortable, and Tony being there just made it even better. Even with the - awkwardness that now surrounded them, surely they could get over that right? It's not like he'd said Tony's name. Out loud, at least.

So, exhausted and starving, he swung by a 24/7 deli and grabbed two sandwiches. They wouldn't be as good as Mr. Delmar's but Peter was starving so he'd take what he could get. He ate one of them on the walk home in his street wear, taking his time by taking a circuitous route back to Stark Tower. It was just delaying the inevitable but Peter couldn't bring himself to speed up the awkward conversation he was no doubt gonna have once he got home.

And yet, once the elevator doors opened and revealed the penthouse, no one was there.

"Fri?" he called.

"Yes, mom?"

"Where's, uh - where's Tony at?"

"Boss has been dematerialized and operating within the bounds of his cognitive digital space, which I am unable to access. Would you like me to get him for you?" she asked, tone colored with curiosity. Peter had to wonder what she thought of the situation, but also did not want to know. He could only imagine the leaps in logic she would make that would hit too close to home.

He dawdled around the living room for a little while before heading down to the labs, half expecting Tony to be there, blue and glowing and insubstantial but present and, for lack of better words, alive.

This was not the case.

Tony was nowhere in the confines of the lab. Peter sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, slowly making his way toward the elevator. He stopped before he entered it and turned around, speaking aloud, "I, uh, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I - yeah. I'll be around." He felt like an idiot speaking to an empty room but he wasn't sure what else to do.

He spent the rest of the night in the penthouse doing his online course work in silence. When he went to bed, he had Friday tell Tony just in case he wanted to know where Peter was, and then fell into a very tense and restless sleep.

The following two days were much like the first. Peter woke up, had Friday tell Tony what he was doing or where he was, visited his friends or May, patrolled, and did his online coursework. He'd come home, have Friday update Tony - not that she ever got an affirmative response - and he went to bed. He slept like shit, he felt like shit, and it was really starting to drain him.

On the fourth day, when he'd about lost his patience and his nerve, Tony finally popped into existence in the middle of the living room. It scared the hell out of him but he didn't do much more than look at the older man, dumbfounded and slightly stupefied.

"Tony?"

"Yeah, uh," the simulation ran a hand through his hair, messing it up in an impossibly cute way, "hi."

"Hi," Peter replied, lame as fuck.

They stared at each other in silence, brown eyes meeting blue ones, before Tony finally broke the tension.

"I'msorryforintrudingandseeingyoucum."

It was only Peter's enhanced senses that made the jumble of words make sense and he blushed immediately, grimacing and trying to hide it.

"It - uh, it's okay."

"It's really not, this is your place and I should give you privacy and I didn't and - " Tony paused, looking at Peter again. " - and I really should not know you have a daddy kink, kid."

"Oh god," Peter groaned, grabbing a pillow and shoving it over his face. "You heard that?"

Tony chuckled and it somehow broke the tension in the room despite the topic. "Kinda hard not to when you're all breathy and moaning. Plus," he shrugged, still grinning, "I have this kickass new memory since it all gets stored and fragmented and saved now."

"Please, please let's change topics before I pass out from blood loss," Peter begged. And, suddenly, everything felt right with the world again. This was their thing. Teasing and being teased, having fun and making jokes between all the serious stuff. It felt good, like a breath of fresh air after three very long, very lonely days.

Peter tried not to analyze what that meant for the future of his sex life.

Long and lonely, he sighed.

But, they moved topics like Peter had wanted, only to something he had not really expected.

"You what?" he asked, perplexed.

"I sent Pepper a Cease & Desist," Tony said as if it made any sense at all.

"How? Did you tell her you were - "

"Oh no, no way," the older man shook his head. "I figured neither of us were ready to pop open that can of worms. I sent it through Friday on your behalf - which," he grimaced, "I probably should've asked first, but what's done is done."

"It's fine, I guess, just - why?" That was what Peter couldn't understand. Why would Tony be sending C&Ds to his wife of all people? And on Peter's behalf no less.

"Listen, kid, I fucked up when I made my will - and before you start thinking it was about your part, it wasn't that," he cut Peter off when he saw the protest in his eyes. With a firm glare, he continued, "She had no right doing a lot of the things she did and is still doing. I had plenty of time in the last three days to think about it, analyze data, check on sources - it's amazing what having all that extra time I'd normally be sleeping can do - and I'm very unhappy with her, Pete."

"Just, why?" Peter asked again, feeling like a parrot or an NPC who had no other dialogue.

"She shouldn't have taken your blanket," the older man glared. "And she shouldn't have said what she did in that meeting room, or any of the tactics she's employed since. I know Pepper, kid, like I know the back of my hand," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand. "That means all the good and the bad. I know that I loved her, or something like that - I must have, to have gotten married and had a kid and everything," he waved his hand like this was not a tremendous thing to be admitting. Might have loved his wife. Oh boy. "But she's taking my decisions out on you and it's not right and it's not fair."

"I don't - "

"If you say you don't mind, kid, I'm gonna figure out a way to kick your ass," Tony swore. "You matter, your persona matters to the public and the shareholders, your favorite things matter even when they're just blankets, and you matter enough to me to be able to see your own god daughter."

"I - thank you," Peter replied softly, curling into the couch with a not-as-cozy blanket draped over him. "I don't know what to say to that."

"Just accept it."

Peter chuckled. "I can do that."

A sweet smile was spread across the space between them, warm and something. After a moment, Peter asked, "So what exactly did your C&D say?"

"The majority of it was just getting her to stop her public and private attacks on you," Tony started. He sat on one of the couch cushions and it was weird seeing it not sink in with his weight. "There was a second petition as well, to get visiting hours with Morgan. I hope, uh," he looked truly nervous here. "I hope you don't mind. I really think you'll love her, Pete." His eyes were earnest as he said this, not really looking for acceptance to an apology that wasn't given. Tony wanted Peter to know his daughter and Peter wanted that too.

"Of course I will," Peter smiled. "She's part you, remember?"

#starker #ironspider #peter parker #tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #peter parker/tony stark #tony x peter #for you fic

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

What's a Lock to a Bat?

damian wayne x reader (featuring the batsiblings)

(A/N): I'm not dead!! I know I've been MIA but last semester was without a doubt had the most difficult and busiest semester of my life, and I've done so little writing. I want to do more now that it's summer so here's hoping. Thank you to everyone that's been patient about a request and stuck around; I am so grateful to all of you :)

I've been working on this story for i have no idea how long but have not yet managed to finish it until today and only did so because I really wanted to post something but don't have much finished so I hope you all enjoy it :)

wordcount: 2361

warnings: blood, injury, batsiblings being themselves

~~

Damian and you have been living in an apartment together for 2 months when the first bat comes through the window. It’s dick, and it’s a social call. It only spirals from there

__

It’s 2 o’clock in the afternoon and Damian has just gotten home from his last class of the day. You’re sitting on the couch, working on an assignment as he makes lunch in the kitchen. You suggested sandwiches, but he doesn’t eat deli meats, so you honestly have no idea what he’s making, but it’ll probably be good. 

A loud ‘clunk’ coming from behind your bedroom door has you standing up and reaching for the knives strapped to the side of the table right beside the couch and turning to Damian to see if he’s expecting anything or anyone he didn't warn you about. The fact that he’s pulled two of your largest kitchen knives and is focused entirely on the bedroom door tells you he wasn’t. 

You’re not as good of a shot as he is —you’re no field vigilante— but you can hit a target pretty well, especially when you know where it’s coming from. 

“Hey guys, how’s the new-Aye!” Dick says from the doorway, shrieking as he dodges a six inch knife that lands in the throwing target on the wall next to him. “Ok I guess I deserved that. Probably should have called first or something.” He smiles awkwardly and pulls the knife from the board. You’re pretty sure it went through and into the wall.

You sigh and relax, heart beating quickly from the adrenaline. “Or, you could have just used the door. We do have one, you know.” 

Damian is looking positively murderous, so Dick comes to give you a hug first, and you put the set of throwing knives away before allowing him to wrap you in a hug. He does give good hugs, and you can’t stay mad at him for long, though in all honesty, you weren’t really mad in the first place.

Dick turns to Damian, who has turned back to what you now see is boiling a pot of pasta. 

“So, what’s for lunch?”

~~

You’ve met Duke before, but only once, so you’re surprised when you get a knock on the door at 7pm on a Thursday evening and he’s standing on the other side.

“Duke, hi. Sorry if you’re looking for Damian he’s actually at the manor this-”

Duke looks quickly back and forth as if he’s expecting something to be coming up behind him 

“Yeah, I know. I may or may not have pissed him off and am looking for somewhere that he won’t find me. And I figured he’d never think to-”

“Check in his own apartment, yeah. Smart. But what makes you think that I won’t just tell him?” you ask, even as you move to let him in. 

“I was hoping?”

You lock the door behind him and move to lean against the kitchen counter. “How about this: If he asks me specifically if you’re here, I will tell him yes. If he doesn’t I won’t say anything.”

Duke collapses on your couch.

“Deal.”

As it turns out, Damian finds Duke by accident, as he’s leaving your apartment at 2am, the same time that Damian returns after his patrol shift. The look on both their faces is priceless, especially when you knew it was coming; Damian told you he was on his way back, you just didn’t tell Duke. Even after a ten minute lecture from Damian about what you think had to do with sword-display etiquette, Duke admits that you kept your word, and he stops by every few Thursdays (when Damian is at the manor) for an hour or so, just to say hi. 

~~

Though you see him least often, you actually do enjoy spending time with Jason. He’s always good to talk to about your English assignments, and he’s willing to help you clean or bake when he’s over, assuming Damian is not. 

You didn’t even know he was in town when he came flying through your (thankfully open) balcony window at 11pm on a Tuesday night, and he scares you half to death as he gets up, covered in blood. 

“I’m fine” You point to the large slash in his jacket, then the blood on his gloves. “Mostly.” He raises his hands up. “This isn’t mine.” 

You sigh. “So can we talk about when crashing into my apartment became a usual thing in your family? Because I don’t remember having this discussion.”

Jason shrugged, already stuffing his gloves into his jacket pocket and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. 

“I don’t care much for bonding time with the Demon Spawn, but you’re a lot more tolerable than he is, and this apartment is centrally located.”

You put your hands on your hips. “Is that your way of telling me you like me? Because I speak fluent Damian, not general bat-speak.” Jason just chugs his water bottle and shrugs. You sigh  —again— and head to the bathroom to pull out your first aid kit. 

“Whatever, doesn’t matter I guess. Just sit down and let me fix that. And then, to repay me for the water and food you’re inevitably going to consume, you’re going to help me develop the topic for my English final paper.”

When Damian gets back from patrol, three hours later, it’s to you and Jason sitting on the couch, Jason wearing some of the pj pants he’s less fond of and a plain t-shirt. He’s torn between annoyance that his older siblings have made a habit to come to his apartment to talk to his partner when he’s not home, adoration for you because you fit into his family so well, and a spark of something warm in his chest when he knows that you’ve also gotten one of the half a dozen pairs of pj pants he doesn’t wear out of his dresser in your own way that was both kind and manipulative.  

Man does he love you.

~~

Out of Damian’s brothers, you probably see Tim the most. He spends the most time at the Batcave, and since Damian is there often, and you run ground research over comms when you can, you’ve run into him many times. Sometimes you’ll help him get a fresh pair of eyes on a case, and sometimes he’ll spar with you. You’re not a full-time vigilante, but the fact that you know how to defend yourself puts both yours and Damian’s minds at ease, and Tim is closest in build to you, so he’s the best teacher, not counting the girls. 

He doesn’t usually show up at your apartment, though. It figures that when he does, he’s bleeding out on your couch.

You get home from running an errand at 9pm, expecting an empty apartment. Instead, you find Red Robin sprawled out on your couch, digging through his utility belt, and bleeding from a wound on his leg. 

You drop the bag you were holding and hurry towards him. 

“If you’re going to drop by, how about a little more texting and a little less bleeding out.”

Tim looks up sharply, then relaxes. “Sorry,” he mutters, still clumsily sifting through his utility belt. “I didn’t think anyone would be home.” 

You swat his hands away and search through his pockets yourself, pulling out a piece of gauze and shoving it against the wound. 

“How did you-ah- how did you know…?”

“How did I know where to look? First, I’ve stocked your belts before, where do you think the new equipment comes from? And second -don’t tell Damian- but you and he keep your medical supplies in the same spot.” You press his hand over the gauze. “Put pressure on this. I’m going to grab the first aid kit.” Tim nods, his face white, and you stand to grab the huge kit you keep in the master bathroom. 

When you return, Tim has switched the soaked gauze for a new piece, and switched hands, too, exposing a red spot on his stomach armor as well. You bat his hand away, angry. 

“And you thought it was a good idea to hide this from me?” Tim winces, likely from your tone. 

“I forgot about it.”

You sigh. “Ok, we’ve got to get this costume off.”

By the time you’ve managed to get Tim out of his costume, clean and stitch his wounds, help him change into clean clothes and wash off some of the dirt and grime covering him, it’s just after eleven, and you shove Tim into your and Damian’s bed to sleep. There’s no way you’re letting him go home in his condition. You’re just hoping Damian chooses the living room window instead of the bedroom one tonight. 

At 1:45 am, your hopes are dashed when you hear Damian’s voice raised to a near-yell and a softer voice responding. You enter as fast as you can, but you’re surprised that Damian’s not about to kick Tim out. Instead, he’s glaring. 

“You put him in our bed?”

You shrugged. “He’s injured. You would have done the same.”

It’s a testament to how much his relationship with Tim has grown that he doesn’t immediately deny it. 

“Tt. You owe me one, Drake.”

Tim rolls his eyes and falls back asleep in response. You stifle a laugh and drag Damian out of the room, pushing him towards the guest bathroom. “We can sleep on the couch; I’ll take the covering off of it and wash that tomorrow.”

Damian looks at you; the expression on his face has faded from irritation to adoration. “Thank you, beloved.”

~~

You don’t even see Cass until you turn away from what you were doing in the kitchen. You’re pretty sure you don’t startle outwardly, but it’s a near thing, and Cass can probably tell anyway. She’s sitting on the couch on your laptop, and you don’t even ask how she got through the passcode and locking mechanisms. Instead, you turn to the fridge and grab the orange juice and pour her (then yourself) a cup and sit next to her on the couch. You like Cass, and she’s one of Damian’s siblings that he outwardly respects, so her visits are usually well-received, though she does so rarely, and never with advanced notice. You see her more often at the cave, and you find her great to spar with because she never makes you feel inferior for your lesser skills, and teaches you ways to knock her brothers down a peg without having to tell you that's what she's doing. 

You hand her the TV remote as she passes you back your laptop, and she flicks the TV on and heads right to Netflix, clicking on the next episode of a TV show you started but never really got into. Three hours later, though, you’re laughing hysterically as Cass mutters under her breath about the characters’ idiotic actions. 

“Why do they go to that building? It is obviously wrong.” 

“None of the action would exist if they knew what they were doing, Cass,” you say, smiling so hard your face hurts. 

“Hm.”

You hear the click of keys as Damian opens the door and he toes his boots off and grabs a bottle of water before sinking down next to you on the couch. Cass’s eyes don’t move from the screen. 

“These people are stupid.” 

“Tt, there is much worse,” Damian says, his elbow brushing yours.

Cass hands the remote to Damian who pulls up a different show of the same genre. You’ve watched that one already once, with your own family, and ten minutes in you know you’ll never be able to watch it the same again, but it’s without a doubt worth it. 

~~

When Steph stops by your apartment, it’s not a social call nor vigilante business. Instead, she picks the lock on the living room window, turns off the alarms, and precedes to sit at your kitchen table and pull out a backpack full of notebooks. She pulls out her laptop and a notebook before even looking at you. Steph shrugs at your raised eyebrow. 

“I needed someplace to work where I’ll actually get the motivation, and it’s quiet.”

You’ve given up on trying to get the bat family to let you know when they’re coming over, so instead you shrug and go back to your own homework assignment. At least she didn’t show up bleeding. 

#woo i'm not dead #sorry it's been so long #stage managing a musical by youself is very hard #especially when also taking a full courseload #damian wayne x you #damian wayne blurbs #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #jason todd x reader #jason todd #tim drake x reader #tim drake #duke thomas x reader #duke thomas #cassandra cain x reader #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #stephanie brown x reader #my writing

[elennemigo]

Benedict Cumberbatch: Sherlock actor's ice cream delight in Woodbridge.

The owner of an ice cream shop hopes Marvel actor Benedict Cumberbatch will sprinkle a little stardust after photos of his visit became an online hit.

Ugur Vatar was amazed when the Sherlock star came into The Creamery and Deli in Woodbridge, Suffolk with his family.

The businessman spent about 30 minutes chatting with "nice guy" Cumberbatch about tough trading conditions.

"It was him who said 'come on, let's have a photo', with the idea it would help," Mr Vatar said.

"I was gobsmacked, we chatted for about half an hour and, would you believe it, not one passer-by noticed him."

It is believed the Doctor Strange actor was staying locally with his extended family, including his wife and children, when he popped into the Market Hill ice cream parlour.

With a star in his midst, Mr Vatar seized the chance to get the A-lister's take on his wacky flavours, including black garlic and charcoal and peach and jalapeno.

"He said 'you're crazy man, how do you even come up with this?' He absolutely loved it," he said.

"He was so interesting, in that he was interested in you."

"He said 'this is the best ice cream I've ever tasted, I'm not pulling your leg', but using stronger wording.

"I explained I just use local milk from Bungay, we've been making it for generations, I work seven days a week."

Mr Vatar revealed his shop had just had a "disastrous" week, taking what he would expect in the slow winter months, while facing soaring energy costs.

"He said 'I feel so sorry for you'. He was so down to earth - I've met a few celebrities here, but none like him, this was totally unexpected.

"We were chatting for so long; he was practically dragged away by his wife."

While Cumberbatch is not on social media, his adoring fans have shared Mr Vatar's photos of the star's visit after he posted them on Facebook.

"It's been shared so thousands of times and I've had messages from Japan - it's crazy," he added.

He said he believed he had made a new friend, as he had seen Cumberbatch since and the actor's family members had already returned to buy ice cream.

"I heard a car beeping the next day, and I looked up and at was him, driving past, giving me a wave." 🚗👋

Such a lovely article, about our lovely man! 🤗🥰

#benedict cumberbatch #Woodbridge #Suffolk UK #the creamery and deli #bbc news #article #news #my post #Ben is a beautiful man inside an out

[familyvideostevie]

A top gun anon (again - hi I’m obsessed).

If you’re taking rooster requests I’ll probably love ANYTHING you write but like, sick fic rooster? Or idk even cocky enemies-to-lovers rooster is the vibe.

But seriously, anything. 💕

hi! thank you for being so patient, i know you sent this ages ago! i went with bradley taking care of you when you're sick <3 | fem!reader, sick fic, fluff, 1.2k

"Did you feel sick when you woke up?" Bradley's voice is crackly over the phone. Reception on the base is touch and go, so you're lucky to have gotten through to him at all.

"No," you mutter. "Well, not really. Not enough to do anything about it."

It's mostly true. When your boyfriend had gotten up at his usual 4am hour for a run before heading to work to teach cocky young aviators how to fly million-dollar hunks of metal, you'd felt fine. Tired, obviously, but used to accepting his kiss goodbye and going back to sleep. The faint ache at your temple hadn't registered until you'd woken up only an hour later, the sun barely in the sky, to a full-blown headache. And after that came chills, nausea, and a low fever. 

"Do you want me to come home early?" Bradley asks. You pull your phone away from your face and squint at it. It's only 1pm and you know he's meant to teach until at least 5. But you're feeling pretty sorry for yourself in your nest of blankets and your growing pile of tissues and you want him to hold you.

"No need," you say. You can handle a few more hours. "I called to ask you to pick up some stuff on your way home though, if you don't mind."

He scoffs and you can practically hear the exasperated raise of his eyebrows. "If I don't mind. That fever really has messed with your head, huh?" There's a shuffling sound, like he's moving the phone to his other ear. "I'll get all the good stuff," he tells you. "Top shelf flu medicine and soup and Gatorade and anything else you want. Any special requests?"

You shut your eyes and feel the bridge of your nose start to sting. You've been together long enough that it shouldn't get to you -- the ease of Bradley's love. The way he does things above and beyond for you from the simplest of tasks to big romantic gestures. It makes your heart constrict in your chest and you want more than anything to hold him right now. 

"No," you say thickly. "Just you, Bradley." He sighs over the phone. It sounds like longing. 

"Okay, sweetheart," he says, voice softer. "You took something, right? Like, Tylenol, or --"

"Yeah," you tell him, sniffling a little and hoping he doesn't hear it. "Yeah, I'm in bed under like, every blanket in the house and I took some with a piece of toast about an hour ago."

Someone calls Bradley's callsign in the background. He ignores it. "Go to sleep or something and I'll be home when you wake up, yeah?" You hear Rooster! again.

"Get back to work, Lieutenant," you whisper. He laughs. "Love you," you add.

"Love you back," he says immediately. "Get some rest, sick girl."

You do as he says, curling under the blankets and doing your best to doze. It seems to work, since your eyes pop open who knows how long later to the sound of the front door closing. You blink blearily and feel your head pounding, still. You're hot instead of cold which means your fever hasn't budged and you feel disgusting. Maybe Bradley will draw you a bath if you ask. 

Speaking of -- either you're being robbed or your boyfriend is home. The covers seem to have eaten your phone but you fish it out and check the time -- only 3pm. You've only been asleep for a little while and he's home way too early, so you roll yourself out of bed with a groan, taking a blanket with you even though you're sweating a little. 

Bradley is in the kitchen unloading two stuffed bags, his back to you. You watch him pull out soups from your favorite deli, far too many bottles of your favorite flavor of Gatorade, and an entire pharmacy's worth of cold and flu meds.

"Did you buy the whole store?" you say, voice scratchy from sleep. You sound sick to your own ears. Your boyfriend whips around and his shoulders loosen at the sight of you, though his brows are drawn tight with concern. 

"Should you be out of bed?" he scolds, though his arms reach for you as he does. "C'mere." You shuffle into his space and he gently rests one hand on your cheek and presses the back of the other to your forehead. "Still hot," he mutters.

"I'm always hot," you tease, though it comes out halfhearted as you're hit with another round of shivers. Bradley smirks but his brows don't unfurl. "You're home early."

He strokes the skin below your eye before turning back to the counter to put his purchases away. He doesn't have to be in uniform to teach, but he wore it today, so he must have had some meetings. Even in your sick state, you admire how handsome he is. "Couldn't leave you home sick all alone, could I?" he says. You amble over to the kitchen stools and plop into one before you fall over. Your head is still pounding.

"You could have," you tell him. He leaves out one Gatorade, a dose of cold and flu medicine, and a container of soup.

"I'll rephrase," he says. "I missed you and I wanted to come home to take care of you." The bridge of your nose starts to burn again. You close your eyes. It feels silly to be so overwhelmed but you can't help it. Everything hurts and you're feeling sorry for yourself and you have the most perfect man in the world ready and willing to take care of you. It's basic, expected behavior from someone who loves you but it never ceases to feel like a miracle. 

"I'm glad you're home," you whisper. You hear Bradley walk towards you, feel him slide next to your stool. You open your eyes to find him close, looking at you with tenderness and fondness and concern all wrapped in one. "I feel like shit," you say, laughing a little wetly. 

"My poor baby," Bradley sighs. You twist in your seat and reach for him, blanketed arms winding around his waist as he pulls you to him, face pressed into his chest and his arms looping around your shoulders. He strokes your hair and you cringe to think about how it's kind of dirty. But you don't linger on it and instead breathe him in -- he smells like oil, desert wind, and cologne. He smells like home.

"Here's what I'm thinking," he says. "I run you a bath and you soak while the soup heats up and I change the sheets and then we get some meds and liquids in you. And then we can get in bed and watch a movie, or something."

"Okay," you say into his shirt. You pull away to look up at him. "That sounds nice." Bradley smiles at you and cups your cheek, bringing his face down for a kiss. You press a palm to his mouth. "You'll get sick," you chide.

He kisses your hand before drawing it away. "I've got an immune system of steel. And if I do, you'll just take care of me." It's not a question, it's not a joke. It's just a fact and you both know it. You take care of each other. 

"Okay," you say softly, before pressing your lips to his. It's a chaste kiss but it's a familiar one. It's I'm here, I'm home. It's you're safe, you're going to be okay. It's I love you.

"Bath," Bradley mumbles against your mouth. "Let's go, sick girl."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

#bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Five Little Ducks

Fandom: DC Comics, Batman

Summary: Bruce finds a magically de-aged Jason.

Chapters: 9/13

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Duke Thomas, Zatanna Zatara

Additional Tags: De-Aged Jason Todd, Magic, Babysitting, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, POV Third Person, Bruce Wayne is Not Okay, Bruce Wayne Tries, Jason Todd Has Issues, Childhood Trauma, TW: Self Harm

Chapter Nine: Career Day

Jason swung his feet, still eating hotdogs. "Mr. Wayne?" Jason whispered.

"Want another hotdog?" Bruce asked. Jason shook his head. "You sure?"

"I'm alright... Can I still get more hot cocoa?" Jason asked.

"Of course, Jason. You okay?" Bruce replied. Jason shook his head. "Still scared?" Jason nodded. "That's okay... The adrenaline will wear off, and everything will slow down in your head."

"How do you know?" Jason asked.

Bruce took a breath and reached to mess up Jason's hair. Jason flinched away, and Bruce nodded. "Sorry, I forgot you weren't-." Bruce trailed off.

Jason looked down at his feet, and Bruce poured him another cup of cocoa. Steph returned with marshmallows from the other kitchen. "I knew we had chocolate marshmallows somewhere," Steph smiled. Jason smiled at her.

She sprayed whipped cream on top of his cocoa and sprinkled the marshmallows. "Jason, I gotta go," Steph whispered, "It was nice meeting you."

She opened her arms, and Jason hugged her. "Do you really have to go?" Jason whined.

Steph nodded. "Yeah, but you're in good hands... Be good," Steph whispered. Jason nodded. She left Jason alone with Bruce.

"Jason, are you sure you're full?" Bruce asked.

Jason nodded. "Are you gonna tell my mom about tonight?" Jason whispered.

Bruce shook his head. "Still feel shaky?" Bruce asked. Jason nodded. "Yeah... How about we go for a ride?"

"Okay... But I should probably finish-."

"You can eat in the car. I'll make you another hotdog and put your cocoa in a to-go cup... Unless you'd like to eat first. Sorry if I seem pushy," Bruce whispered. Jason shook his head.

"You're not pushy," Jason replied, "Do you get lonely in this house all by yourself?"

Bruce poured Jason's cocoa into a to-go cup. "Sometimes," Bruce answered. With a tilt of the head, Bruce realized Jason wasn't asking to make conversation. He genuinely cared. "Do you get lonely being an only child?"

Jason nodded. "But you're an only child too... You know what it's like," Jason replied.

"I suppose I do... Still, I'd like to hear about your experience. It's gotta be different now than it used to be," Bruce replied as he wrapped Jason's hotdog in deli paper. They walked to the car, and Bruce handed Jason his food. "Gotham's changed a lot from when I was a child. Crime's not as organized as it used to be. More innocent people getting hurt."

"I guess so... But I'm not scared of the crime. I'm-. Do you ever feel like everyone else has more life than you?" Jason questioned. Bruce furrowed his brow. "Like some people have everything... Huge families, the perfect house, the car-."

"The happiness?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah," Jason mumbled.

The sun rose over the horizon, and Jason shielded his eyes. Bruce pulled down the mirror on the passenger's side. "No one's life is perfect. Even if someone has all those things, they'll always need something else," Bruce replied, "But I get the sense of longing. What do you long for?"

"I wish I had somebody older than me around... Then I wouldn't be responsible for everything all the time. I guess that's selfish, though. I feel selfish for wishing it was someone else. People always say they wouldn't wish stuff on their worst enemies, but is it wrong to wish you had somebody to share things with? Even the bad stuff?" Jason questioned. Bruce nodded. "You probably think that's a terrible thing-."

"You have no idea how much I relate to everything you've said. I think that's been my sole motivation for everything I've done in the past decade or so... I want someone to share my experience with too. I think my second son understood that better than anyone," Bruce whispered. Jason smiled.

"Where is he?" Jason questioned.

"We hit a bump in the road... And things never seemed the same again. We couldn't fix things," Bruce replied, squeezing his knee to hold back tears.

"I hope you can patch things up with your son someday," Jason mumbled as he tapped Bruce's wrist, offering him a gentle hand. "I'm sorry that you can't talk to him right now..."

"Thank you, Jason," Bruce smiled. He glanced over at Jason, who'd quietly given way to tears. "What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry... I don't know why-. I do know why I'm crying... I don't wanna tell you. You'll think it's dumb," Jason cried as he wiped his face. Bruce pulled over.

"I don't think your feelings are dumb... Let me have it, Jason. What's got you so upset?" Bruce asked sweetly.

They stared at one another for a while, and Jason sniffed. "I'm jealous... And I don't wanna be," Jason murmured. Bruce messed up Jason's hair.

"We're sharing something right now, Jason. Maybe you can't take his place, but you can have a place of your own," Bruce whispered, "Would you like that while you're here? To have a space of your own?" Jason stared into Bruce's eyes, all glossy with tears, and nodded. Bruce smiled a gently reassuring smile.

"But what does that mean for me?" Jason asked.

"You're loved while you're here... You're seen while you're here... You're understood," Bruce explained. Jason smiled.

They drove through Gotham while Jason ate and drank, and Bruce glanced at him occasionally. "You know what?" Bruce asked. Jason made a soft noise. "Your smile is the best smile in Gotham."

Jason switched over to a sheepish grin and looked down at his feet. "Thank you," Jason answered weakly.

"It's true. I've never seen a happier smile," Bruce replied honestly, "Reminds me of my son's smile."

"Really?" Jason asked.

Bruce nodded. "Jason, you have your whole beautiful life ahead of you. I don't know what you wanna do, but I know you'll be great," Bruce reassured Jason. "What do you wanna do?"

"I wanna help people," Jason replied, "I wanna do something that makes people feel better... Just don't know how. Nobody's ever asked me that before."

"Not even at school?" Bruce questioned. Jason shook his head.

"Nuh-uh... I think the teachers are more worried about keeping us out of juvie," Jason replied. Bruce frowned. "Thanks for asking me, though... Now I can think about it."

"Glad it's on your mind now. I can't wait to see what you become," Bruce beamed.

#fic #five little ducks fic #batfam #Jason Todd #Bruce Wayne #Dick Grayson #Stephanie Brown #Duke Thomas #Zatanna Zatara #De-Aged Jason Todd #Magic #Babysitting #Father-Son Relationship #Fluff and Angst #POV Third Person #Bruce Wayne is Not Okay #Bruce Wayne Tries #Jason Todd Has Issues #Childhood Trauma #angst and fluff

[jessybarnes]

Just A Taste

Title: Just A Taste

Pairing: Steve Kemp x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Word Count: 1,643

Tags: Smut, angst, fluff, face riding, oral sex (female receiving), clit play, tongue fucking, kissing, crying, feelings of not being good enough, being held captive, out of character Steve, squirting, explicit language, and I think that’s it.

Written For: KINKMAS 2022

Day 1: Face Riding

Beta(s): Just Grammarly

A/N: Okay, so this was supposed to be posted on the 14th but because I received anon hate I decided to wait because I just wasn't feeling good about myself. I'm still not, but here this is anyway. I'm sorry it's bad. I know Steve is way out of character. Sorry, for my bad writing.

Steve opens the door to his cellar and heads down the stairs. His fingers wrap tightly around the key card as he exhales harshly through his nose. Today was stressful. Well, every day is, but today was even more so.

His shoes click methodically on the hard floor as he walks slowly toward your cell. The other ones are all empty except for two, but those women don't matter to him. Not in the way that you do.

You're...different.

From the day he saw you standing in line at the little deli he frequents, he was captivated by your beauty. He'd never seen someone so beautiful before in his life.

So beautiful, in fact, that he can't bring himself to use you the way he's used all of the other women he's captured. Every time he opens your cell door and sees those big, doe eyes of yours looking up at him, his stomach fills with butterflies.

Even on bad days like this, you bring a light to him that illuminates his darkness.

Steve can see you sitting cross-legged on the thin bed roll, a Cosmopolitan magazine open on your lap. You're chewing on your bottom lip, something he's noted as a habit of yours, and it makes arousal coil in his lower abdomen.

He raises the key card to unlock the door and slides it open. You look up and offer him a soft, nervous smile.

"H-Hi"

Steve smiles at the fear and innocence in your eyes. God, he loves the power he holds over you.

"Hey, sweetheart. Reading anything good?"

You look down at the magazine and move your gaze back to his. It really should disgust you that your attraction to your kidnapper outweighs your motivation to escape. There's no way he feels the same. At first, you'd thought that's why he hadn't harmed you, but now you're starting to think there's something else wrong with you.

You've been here for a long time now, and he still hasn't done what he said he do the first night he'd brought you here. Maybe you're not good enough for him now and he's just keeping you here as a prisoner because he's afraid you'll rat him out and ruin his whole operation.

Wow, I'm so undesirable not even the man who took me captive wants anything to do with me... how pathetic...

"Just the horoscope page," you say quietly.

The sadness in your tone doesn't go unnoticed and Steve realizes it's a different kind of sad. Not the kind he's used to anyway. He pushes off the doorframe and walks closer to you. His knees pop as he crouches down, his fingers tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes.

"Somethings wrong, and it isn't just because I've got you imprisoned in this room."

It isn't a question, but you know he means to ask what's bothering you. The lump in your throat rises and you're certain if you try and speak the dam inside you will break.

Your lower lip trembles and Steve brushes his thumb over it to keep it still. He watches as tears gather in your eyes and feels his heart constrict with another foreign feeling.

He's been angry before, but never this kind. This kind is new to him. This is a protective type of anger that makes his blood boil.

Steve sits down and pulls you into his lap. You curl into him as soft, quiet sobs shake your body. A deep scowl etches onto his features and even though he's the only one who's had any type of contact with you for the past two months, it still doesn't change the fact that he'd kill anyone who brought you harm.

...Oh...

That's when it dawns on him.

He's fallen for you.

Hard.

Your small voice breaks through your sobs and Steve wipes your tears away with his thumb as he looks down at you.

"Th-There's some...something wrong with m-me, isn't there?"

He shakes his head, "why would there be anything wrong with you? You're the least fucked up person in this house, Y/N."

You sniffle and adjust yourself so you're looking at him properly. He really is attractive, and you're so close to him. Close enough that you could just lean in and-

"Sweetheart?"

Your eyes fall to your lap along with your hands, the chain around your wrist jingling reminding you of where you're at. Maybe you do belong here if you're having sexual thoughts about your fucking abductor.

"Because," you sigh, "I've been in here for a long time and...and you've...well, you haven't...haven't um..."

You can't bring yourself to even say it, but Steve seems to get what you're trying to tell him. He tilts your chin back up again and for the first time in a long time, he actually looks sincere.

"You think because I haven't done to you what I've done to the others that you're not good enough?"

You nod and he swallows thickly. He's normally desensitized to seeing women cry, but with you, it's like someone's torn open a wound in the middle of his chest. He can't stand it and he can't help himself as he leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss.

You gasp and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips into your warm, wet mouth. He kisses you fiercely, his arms holding you tightly against him, and for a moment you actually believe he wants this...wants you.

Steve pulls away and you search his eyes for a moment before speaking up.

"I...don't...I don't understand... how come-"

He shushes you with another kiss and taps your thigh so you'll get up. He stands with you and pulls a set of keys from his pocket, the same sincere expression still on his face.

"We'll talk more later, baby. Right now, I've gotta taste you, and I need you somewhere more comfortable for that."

The look of horror on your face catches him off guard, but he quickly recovers and shakes his head, his hands cupping your cheeks tenderly.

"Oh, angel, I didn't mean it like that. I promise I'm not going to harm one hair on that pretty, little head of yours."

He pulls you flush against him, one of his large hands sliding underneath the elastic band of your sweatpants.

"What I meant was," two of his fingers apply delicious pressure on your clit making your breath hitch, "I wanna taste this sweet, little cunt, Y/N."

Heat pools in your belly at his words, and you let yourself feel the way the pads of his fingers roll over your sensitive bud. He removes them just as quickly and you let out a little whine in protest.

"Don't be impatient," he admonishes and unlocks the cuff on your wrist.

Steve leads you out of the cell and down the long hallway. You come to a set of stairs and he climbs them, unlocking the door at the top with his key card before taking you through the main part of his house. His bedroom is cozy and neat, but you don't get a chance to really look at it because, in the next second, he's practically tearing your clothes off.

"So sweet...so pretty and innocent, baby. I bet your pussy tastes like heaven."

Steve lays down on the bed and tilts his head back so he can look at you. His cock tents his pants and your mouth waters at the thought of him fucking your throat.

"Come here, princess. Come sit on my face and let me taste you."

You climb over him, your knees just above each of his shoulders. He groans and wraps his arms around your thighs as he looks up at your glistening pussy.

"Fucking soaked, baby."

He pulls you down and drags his tongue from your soaked hole to your hard clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body.

"Oh, fuck! Steve!"

He begins to devour you, switching from slipping his tongue inside your pussy and sucking on your sensitive nub. You start to rock your hips and whine when he holds you still.

Steve's insatiable.

He can't get enough of the way you taste, the way your dripping cunt clenches around his tongue every time he pushes it inside you. He's instantly addicted and he's determined to see how many times he can make you cum just from his mouth alone.

"Oh, my god! Fuck! Please!... Steve, I...it feels so fucking good, baby."

He lifts you up and looks up into your eyes, "ride my face, princess. Make yourself cum all over my fucking tongue."

You moan loudly and roll your hips, the sensation of his mouth on your pussy making you toss your head back in pleasure.

Your hands grip his hair and you move your cunt faster across his tongue, the spark of arousal now a full-blown inferno as you climb closer and closer to pure bliss.

Steve grips your ass and flicks his tongue faster, his name falling past your lips over and over in a desperate plea.

"Steve! Oh, God Steve! Please! Steve, you're so good...fuck, m'gonna cum you're so fucking good, baby!"

Your legs begin to shake and moments later the coil inside you snaps as you gush all over him. He growls possessively and takes everything you give him until you're too sensitive.

Steve rolls you over so you're on your back, his body caging you in.

"I'm gonna need you to do that again, baby."

Your eyes go wide, "Steve, I don't think that's possible. I'm too sensitive and-"

"Nonsense," he cuts you off and kisses down your body, a smirk dancing across his lips, it's definitely possible, princess."

He kisses your clit and you suck in a sharp breath.

"And you're gonna give me as many as I want."

Tag List: @madashatters18 @sarahrogersevans @chrisevansdaughter @nana1000night @pono-pura-vida @ejshellsiteofsins @imyourbratzdoll

#j snow writes #kinkmas 2022 #steve kemp #brendan steven kemp #steve kemp x you #steve kemp x reader #brendan steven kemp x you #brendan steven kemp x reader #fresh movie #fresh #steve kemp fanfiction #steve kemp fic #steve kemp fanfic #steve kemp smut #steve kemp angst #steve kemp fluff #brendan steven kemp smut #brendan steven kemp angst #brendan steven kemp fluff

[post-uwuifer]

According to all known laws of aviation,there is no way a bee should be able to fly.Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground.The bee, of course, flies anywaybecause bees don't care what humans think is impossible.ANumber2Pencil, Dec 7, 2016#1dinocerosDonatorMessages:7,482Likes Received:29,999Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black.Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little.Barry! Breakfast is ready!Ooming!Hang on a second.Hello?- Barry?

to make one decision in life.But, Adam, how could they never have told us that?Why would you question anything? We're bees

No one's listening to me!Wait till you see the sticks I have.I could say anything right now.

Hi my name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I'm in the seventh year (I'm seventeen). I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside Hogwarts. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of preps stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

"Hey Ebony!" shouted a voice. I looked up. It was… Draco Malfoy!

"What's up Draco?" I asked.

"Nothing." he said shyly.

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

I'm gonna get an ant tattoo!Let's open some honey and celebrate!Maybe I'll pierce my thorax. Shave my antennae.Shack up with a grasshopper. Get a gold tooth and call everybody "dawg"!I'm so proud.- We're starting work today!

Today's the day.Oome on! All the good jobs will be gone.Yeah, right.Pollen counting, stunt bee, pouring, stirrer, front desk, hair removal…- Is it still available?

Hang on. Two left!One of them's yours! Oongratulations! Step to the side.- What'd you get?

Picking crud out. Stellar!Wow!Oouple of newbies?Yes, sir! Our first day! We are ready!Make your choice.- You want to goetting the Krelman?

Sure, you're on.I'm sorry, the Krelman just closed out.Wax monkey's always open.The Krelman opened up again.What happened?A bee died. Makes an opening. See? He's dead. Another dead one.Deady. Deadified. Two more dead.Dead from the neck up. Dead from the neck down. That's life!Oh, this is so hard!Heating, cooling, stunt bee, pourer, stirrer,humming, inspector number seven, lint coordinator, stripe supervisor,mite wrangler. Barry, what do you think I should… Barry?Barry!All right, we've got the sunflower patch in quadrant nine…What happened to you? Where are you?- I'm going out.

Out? Out where?- Out there.

Oh, no!I have to, before I go to work for the rest of my life.You're gonna die! You're crazy! Hello?Another call coming in.If anyone's feeling brave, there's a Korean deli on 83rdthat gets their roses today.Hey, guys.- Look at that.

Isn't that the kid we saw yesterday?Hold it, son, flight deck's restricted.It's OK, Lou. We're gonna take him up.Really? Feeling lucky, are you?Sign here, here. Just initial that.- Thank you.

OK.You got a rain advisory today,and as you all know, bees cannot fly in rain.So be careful. As always, watch your brot thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Behold the handmaid of the Lord: Be it done unto me according to Thy word. They drive crazy.- Do they try and kill you, like on TV?

Some of them. But some of them don't.- How'd you get back?

im back UwUcifer, can i enter my own contest?

ah, stwuck again by wengthy ask anon! Mad wespect, yes yoo may UwU

#shitpost #gimmick blog

[carolmunson]

song lyric prompts you say?

let me hurt my own feelings by giving you this.

"I'm hard to love, there's no denying if you've had enough, thanks for trying"

- Heavy by Peach PRC (a song that's so beautifully sad, and I very much relate to it)

feel free to write anything with either Steve or Eddie or both (write it with whoever you feel suits the situation the most, with or without reader)

this is gonna go a way you're not expecting. but also, lmao pain. tw: night terrors

Steve wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping and holding his stomach where his scars had healed a decade ago. His breath is ragged while flashes of red and rumbles of thunder still play in his ears and behind his eyes. Am I still there? Am I stuck? One, two, three, four, five, breathe in, one, two, three, four, five, breathe out. Find three things in the room that are blue. It's not working. His breath gets more rushed and shallow, his free hand searches for something, anything to grip.

"H-help," he says quietly, weakly, "H-help!"

Tears pool in his eyes while the rumblrs of thunder and flashes of red overtake him, awake but not really. Awake but at what cost? Awake but barely. It's been like this every night for ten years. No one ever stays after very long -- they miss sleeping. They can't stay awake like he can. They can't handle the screaming.

"Help!" he rasps out, gagging on his hurried breaths, stress pouring from his hairline. He whimpers, only finding the loose sheets drenched in his sweat.

"Hey, hey." He hears through the rumbles, through the flashes -- and then cold, ice cold. An icepack held to his forehead, to his cheek.

"Hey," you whisper, your voice bringing him foreward through the fear. You speak slowly and evenly, like you've practiced, "I'm right here. You're in my bed. I'm next to you. The red light in the deli outside."

"In your bed?" he asks, his breaths slowing. You appear from the fog, your face close to his face, noses brushing. He copies the way that you breathe: in, two, three, four, five, out, two, three, four, five.

"In my bed," you smile, "You with me?"

He nods, eyes clearing up to their sparkling amber but the bags under his eyes still a dark and unhappy dusk, "I'm sorry," he whispers.

"Don't be sorry," you say sweetly, kissing his cheek, "You at least didn't punch me this time." You giggle but he winces at the memory.

"It...it won't happen again," Steve mumbles quietly, taking the ice pack and holding it to his chest to lay down. You lay down next to him, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder, cool with his dried sweat.

"It's okay if it does," you assure, leaning closer to kiss his cheek, "I know what I'm getting into." He nods, "I love you," he says, like he does every night. Like he does every time this happens.

"I love you, too," you say, sleep overtaking you while you run a hand through his hair. He's not sure if he'll ever believe you when you say it, no one else ever really has.

#steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #blurbie

[justplainwhump]

No.

This is a jump into the future for Angel's and much more so for Tyler's story. There will be a lot more coming about his very current situation, fear not - but after him thinking about 238's forgiveness, this piece demanded to be written, and I'm not going to let it catch dust in my drafts. So here you go.

Angel Masterpost | Tyler Masterpost

Tyler and Angel meet again.

Content / warning: BBU setting (but far in recovery), BBU recovery, implied past noncon / dubcon and short but frank discussion of it, conditioning and the struggle to get out of it, former whumper trying to work on redemption. Also includes minor spoilers for Tyler's story, which I deem in no way relevant to the potential enjoyment of it, but still mention here anyway.

Some years later

Tyler had never thought he'd be able to find her again. Despite all efforts, not only by him, by an entire network of people, it had seemed like after the death of her owner, 002238 had ceased to exist. 

It had been more than a year since Tyler had come out of jail; two months, since Tara had finished filming her documentary. A bit more since she'd identified and contacted Danielle Hammond's father, who had financed the search for her with huge amounts of money and resources.  

It had been Tyler who finally found her, though. And on a hunch, he hadn't shared this with Tara and the others right away. He would - of course he would, but he wanted to talk to 238 first. 

So he'd approached her, just out there on the street, and she'd simply stared at him, from these dark brown eyes that followed him in his dreams and nightmares, held his gaze for long seconds, and then calmly suggested to get lunch.

And now here they were, Tyler and 238, sitting in a booth of a crowded deli, two young people in their late twenties, nothing unusual to spot for any onlooker. 238 looked good, confident and a bit distanced, in a way that only added to her stunning charisma.

She held the paper cup with fresh orange juice on the table in front of her, clutching it with both hands. A barrier between them. 

Tyler swallowed, staring down at it. He'd have punished her for that. Before.

She followed his gaze, and her fingers twitched, as if he'd actually done it, for the fraction of a second, before she settled them again. "Speak," she said. Her voice was a little raspy, less focused on smoothness than when he'd last heard her. Commanding, almost.

Tyler had thought about this moment for years. Every single night since he'd left WRU he had imagined finding 238 and talking to her. In the beginning, in these fantasies he'd been saving her from her owner. He'd show up at his doorstep, just buy her off his hands, whatever the price, and then he'd invest everything he'd ever learned to reverse her conditioning. He'd work and work and work, until he'd earn her forgiveness and his own. Later, when he'd learned about the asshole's death, he'd rescue her from the streets, find a safe place for her, help her get back on her feet. He was here for something else, now.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I… Angel, Danielle, fuck, I… I don't even know what to call you, really, I-"

"Angel," she said, very briskly. She didn't hide the pained blink of her eyes at the other name. The one he'd made her forget. Fuck. He wasn't off to a good start. "I kept it. Better than a number."

238, he thought, peering at her wrist. There was nothing there, perfect soft skin, encircled by a thin silver bracelet. It looked like a gift. He wondered who got it for her. He hated himself for wanting to know.

He hated himself for everything about this, suddenly.

"Why are you here, Handler Parker?"

He shivered and shook his head. "I… I'm not a handler any more. I left WRU, I went to jail, I… I'm not that man any longer. I... I regret everything. So much. I have been horrible. I've done horrible things. And I want to-"

"No." 238's face hardened. She was pale under her freckles - had it been him or had she looked like that when they entered the deli? "No, handler."

"I-" he stammered. "Hear me-"

"No." She raised her chin. "Do you…" Her voice trembled. "Do you even understand how hard it is for me to say this word, Handler Parker? Even now? After so many years? You should, shouldn't you? Because it's been you, who tortured it out of my vocabulary. Do you know how often I… how often I wanted to, but I didn't even know what it was that I wanted, because there was just nothing? Just a fucking void, where a voice should've been. I know everything would've happened anyway, because that's just what it is, but… do you have an idea what it means to just silently accept everything? I got out of the facility, I got out of my owner's house, I got out of the system, but I… I still can't properly say it." She swallowed. "No. No, Handler. I will not forgive you for what you've done. I don't care how you have changed. Because you know what that won't change? Me. I…" She blinked, and only now did Tyler realize the tears in the corners of her eyes. "I have to physically fight my urge to get out of this seat, in the… the most seductive way possible, and to get under this table, get on my knees, right between your legs, and play with your zipper and just…" Her jaw clenched. "I hate sex. I hate cocks. I hate you. And right now I still want nothing as much as your stupid cock in me and your voice calling me a good girl."

She got to her feet and slammed a bill on the table. "Fuck you, Sir. Find your absolution somewhere else. You're not getting it here."

"I…" Tyler struggled. "Wait. I… I want to go to Court."

She stopped in her tracks, raised an eyebrow, staring down at him in fury and confusion. "What?"

"Sue WRU," he said, words just tumbling from his lips. "You didn't sign up for it. I know it." You signed up for this, his own voice rang in his ears. Repeat after me. He shook his head. "You were kidnapped and tortured and... I… I will testify. I have files, I have names, I… I have memories. Sue me. Sue WRU." He pulled a business card from his pocket with trembling fingers. "This is my lawyer. Please. You can… We can… I can't make things right, but maybe there's a chance at… changing others' fates."

238 slowly took the card, looked at it and then back at him, with a breathless chuckle. "What tells me you're not cashing in a reward for bringing in a runaway pet?"

Tyler loosened his leather bracelet, before turned his own wrist towards her. The bars were still stark black against his skin, ink dark as on the first day.

She shook her head in disbelief. "You're… you're not…"

"I was never on the Drip. I didn't forget anything. But I… I have seen WRU, from all perspectives possible. I want them to go down. I know I'll be the first to be locked up for the things that I did to you, I don't care - but this case, your case, it's strong enough that I wouldn't be the last." 

He pulled the bracelet over his wrist again, before he pointed at the business card in her hand. "Sue WRU."

She swallowed. "I'll think about it," she whispered, before she closed her hands around the card and buried it in her pocket, voice dropping even further. "Fuck you anyway."

#bbu #bbu recovery #tylers story #angels story #tyler parker #angel the romantic #deconditioning