#*cracks knuckles* is it finally time to cook my own food

[yunruka]

I am surpised at the lack of Lycaon and Billy fics both in here and ao3

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐩𝐚 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤

Parings → Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

Warnings → fluff

Summary → At Tony's birthday, you reveal your pregnancy, leading to mixed reactions.

You and Peter were on your way to the compound, your nerves making the drive feel like an eternity. Peter was gripping the steering wheel too tight, his knuckles white with anxiety.

"I'm telling you, he's gonna kill me," Peter said, his voice trembling. "He’ll blast me off Earth, and I’ll never see my kid."

"Peter, stop being such a drama queen," you said, trying to keep the mood light. "Dad loves you."

"I’m serious, babe!" Peter's eyes darted around the road as if he was expecting an Avengers-level attack at any moment. "He won’t be happy that I made his daughter pregnant."

"We're married, Peter," you reminded him with a teasing smile.

"I KNOW!" Peter practically shouted, his stress palpable. "But it’s Tony Stark we’re talking about! He’s a genius billionaire with a high-tech suit. I don’t even have a suit like him!"

You chuckled, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "Relax. It’s going to be fine. Besides, you’re not just telling him you’re going to be a dad—you’re giving him a grandkid. He’ll love it."

Peter gulped. "I hope so."

As you pulled into the compound’s driveway, you could see your dad’s birthday party in full swing. The decorations were up, and everyone was mingling. Tony, Pepper, and Morgan were surrounded by the Avengers, with Happy looking over the festivities with his usual vigilance.

You and Peter walked in, and Morgan immediately ran over to hug you. “Y/n!” She squealed, her excitement almost palpable.

“Hey, Morgan!” You replied, giving her a big hug. “Happy birthday to Dad, huh?” You said while looking around the exaggerated decorations.

“Yeah.” Morgan chuckled.

Peter fidgeted beside you, his hands twisting together as his eyes darted around nervously. It was almost comical how out of sorts he seemed, like he was bracing himself for an impending disaster.

“Pete, you look like you’re about to face Thanos again,” Tony quipped, striding over with that signature smirk of his. He clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder, then turned his attention to you. “Hey, kiddo.” His tone softened as he pulled you into a quick hug.

You smiled, trying to sound nonchalant despite your own nerves bubbling under the surface. “Just a little something,” you said, holding out the neatly wrapped box. “Happy birthday, Dad.”

“Oh, honey, you didn’t have to,” Tony said, his lips curling into a grin as he took the box from your hands. “But you know I love gifts.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his predictable response. “I figured,” you said, crossing your arms playfully. “But this one’s actually from the both of us.”

Tony glanced at Peter, who offered a sheepish smile. “Yeah, uh, we both worked on it,” Peter mumbled, his nervousness still evident.

Tony’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he held up the gift. “Well then, let’s see what brilliance you two have cooked up.”

If only he knew.

_____

Dinner was served, and despite the delicious food and lively conversation, Peter couldn’t seem to relax. He kept playing with his fork and glancing at the clock, as if hoping time would slow down or speed up.

Finally, it was time for the presents. You exchanged knowing glances with Peter and headed over to where Tony was opening gifts.

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got here,” Tony said, grabbing your gift first, tearing into the wrapping paper with his usual flair. When he pulled out the onesie with "The Best Grandpa's Grandkid" printed on it, his face registered confusion for a moment.

Everyone else was busy chatting with each other, but you watched Tony’s reaction closely. As the realization hit, his eyes widened, and a huge smile spread across his face.

“This is… this is…” Tony started, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. “I’m going to be a grandpa?” Everyone's attention was on you and Tony now.

"Happy Birthday, dad."

All the avengers started congratulating you. Natasha was the first to approach you. She enveloped you in a warm hug. “You’re going to be the best mom,” she said with a sincere smile.

Wanda joined in, her own hug equally comforting. “You and Peter are going to be amazing parents.”

You felt a lump in your throat as their kindness washed over you. “Thanks, guys. It means a lot.”

Pepper smiled at the display of support and stepped over to you, her eyes glistening slightly. She kissed your forehead gently. “Oh, honey, you grew up so fast.”

Sam and Bucky, who had been watching the whole interaction with smirks on their faces, couldn’t resist a bit of teasing. Sam clapped Peter on the back hard and said, “Looks like the kid’s having a kid.”

Bucky chuckled, adding, “Guess we’ll have to start calling you ‘Spider-Dad’ now, Parker.”

Peter laughed nervously, his face still a bit pale. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Steve approached, giving Peter a reassuring pat on the back. “You’ll do great, Pete. You’ve got this.”

Tony looked at you with a mixture of pride and nostalgia. “My little girl is going to be a mom,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “You grew up so fast, Y/n.”

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his tears betraying the emotions he was trying to keep in check. “I’m so proud of you,” he murmured, kissing your forehead.

As Tony pulled back from the hug, his gaze shifted to Peter. Peter’s face went pale. He had a brief moment of relief as he saw Tony’s smile, but it quickly turned into a look of terror as Tony’s expression shifted.

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he turned to Peter, the smile gone. “How dare you make my little girl pregnant!”

“Dad,” you said, trying to keep your tone calm, “let’s not start with this.”

“Um, Tony, sir, I-I can explain,” Peter stammered, his face turning red.

“Tony, honey, calm down,” Pepper said, stepping in with a soothing voice.

“Oh, I’m calm, Pep,” Tony said through gritted teeth. “But Parker’s gonna die tonight.”

Peter’s eyes were wide as he looked to you for help. “Y/n, say something!”

“Dad,” you said, stepping in between Tony and Peter. “Do you want your grandchild to be fatherless?”

Tony huffed, looking between you and Peter. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But only because I don’t want to be a grandpa to a kid without a father. Parker, you better take care of my little girl or so help me—”

“I will!” Peter interrupted, trying to sound as earnest as possible. “I promise, Mr. Stark, I’ll do everything I can.”

“Dad, relax,” you interjected, stepping between Tony and Peter. “Peter’s going to be a great dad. He loves me, and he’s going to love our baby.”

Tony’s face softened a little, but his protective instincts were still on high alert. “Alright, alright. Just… make sure you keep my little girl happy. And don’t mess this up.”

Peter nodded vigorously, his eyes wide. “I promise. I’ll do everything I can.”

“You better.”

Everyone else, who had been watching the scene with a mix of amusement and concern, slowly started to relax as Tony’s anger subsided. Morgan ran over to Peter and hugged him tightly.

“You’re going to be the best dad ever!” She declared.

Peter looked at Morgan, his eyes misty. “Thanks, kid.”

Happy came over and slapped Peter on the back, almost knocking him over. “Welcome to the family, kid. If you need any help with the whole ‘being a dad’ thing, let me know.”

Peter managed a shaky laugh. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

Pepper wrapped her arms around Tony, giving him a gentle squeeze. “See? It’s going to be alright.”

Tony took a deep breath, finally letting go of some of his tension. “Yeah, alright. I guess I’m just going to have to get used to this.”

The rest of the evening was filled with congratulations and warm wishes. Tony seemed to be in a much better mood as he began to accept the news. The whole party eventually gathered around, with everyone offering their support and excitement.

As the night went down, you and Peter found a quiet corner of the compound, away from the hustle and bustle of the party.

“See?” You said, wrapping your arms around him. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Peter let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, it actually went better than I thought it would.”

“Now we just have to get used to the idea of being parents,” you said with a smile.

Peter grinned, his anxiety replaced by excitement. “Yeah, I think we can handle that.”

You both stood there, imagining the future and the new life that was growing inside you. It was a perfect end to an eventful day, with love, laughter, and a new chapter about to begin.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[carpenterswife]

ALL MY GHOSTS (vii)

series masterlist

- summary: Finally, after a long week of searching, Beau locates the house you’re being kept in. He leads the operation to rescue you, and finds you chained up and beaten. He spends five days in the hospital, by your side, as you recover.

- word count: 2637

- warnings: Domestic abuse, inhumane treatment, hospital setting.

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

From the outside, it looked like a normal suburban house. If Beau wasn’t aware of who owned the property, he’d think it was a normal house. But he knew better. He knew there was probably some sort of hellscape inside.

You were in there. He could feel it. And he was going to get you back.

Approaching the front door with Jenny, Cassie and Pop in tow, he tried the handle. Locked, of course. He motioned for the other deputies to go around the back, watching the five men disappear around the corner.

Stepping back, Beau braced himself.

This was it.

He slammed his foot into the door, by the handle, a rush of satisfaction hitting him when the door cracked and swung open. Immediately, he stepped inside, pistol raised and pointed. He took the living room, motioning for the other three to take separate rooms.

“Clear!” Jenny called from the dining room.

“Clear here!” Pop reported from the first floor bathroom.

There was a beat of silence. “Guys.” Cassie called out. “Come check this out.”

Beau didn’t waste any time. He rushed out of the living room and into the kitchen, around the kitchen island to where Cassie was crouched down. Jenny and Pop rushed in behind him.

Her expression was grim as she looked over her shoulder. “Blood.”

Heart sinking, Beau crouched beside him, gently touching the small pools of liquid. It stained his fingertips bright red. Definitely blood. He stood, scanning the kitchen, eyes landing on food preparations on the counter. “Someone was cooking.”

“Y’think it was her?” Jenny stepped up beside Beau, eyeing the knives and pans still laid out on the counter. They were in a clutter, someone had been dragged away while they were in the midst of cooking.

Sharp, he nodded. “She’s here.” He stepped back. Without another word, he exited the kitchen. They followed, as he took the stairs, two at a time, his knuckles around around his handgun.

There were three doors upstairs.

Two looked normal.

One had five locks.

His gut churned. He headed for that one, trying the handle, cursing when it clicked. He stepped back and sent his foot into it, grunting at the resistance. “Jenny.”

Nodding, Jenny came up beside him. On a countdown, they slammed their feet into the door at the same time. Once. Twice. Three times. The door flew open. Raising his gun high, Beau lead the way into the dark room.

A bed. A closet.

And you. Chained to the wall like an animal. Covered in bruises and blood, cowering against the wall.

“Y/N.” He breathed in relief. Holstering his pistol, he took a few large steps over to you, kneeling down on the floor in front of you. “Y/N, honey, look at me.” He put his hand gently on your knee, tapping you softly. You tensed, but didn’t flinch. “It’s me. It’s Beau.”

Your head lifted at the name, a spark of hesitation in your eyes. You stared at him, clearly recognising him, but too afraid to move.

He flashed a smile, squeezing your knee. “See? I’ve got you. It’s me. I’ve got you now, darlin’.” He didn’t know if what he was feeling was relief or rage. He was over the fucking moon you were in front of him, alive. But the bruises on your skin made his teeth grind together, made him want to punch a hole through the wall.

He was going to kill Jack.

Going to beat him to a pulp and take great pleasure in watching his face bleed.

“Beau.” Your arms came around him, desperate. Beau caught you, tugging you to his chest, cradling your head against his firm shoulder. You held onto him like he was your lifeline. Like he was buoy in an ocean; the only thing keeping you afloat and breathing and alive. You began to cry, overwhelmed with the emotions slamming into you, hiding your face in his shoulder.

His heart squeezed tightly. He cradled you to his body, holding on tightly, like you’d disappear if he let go even for a second. “I got you.” He whispered. “I got you, baby. You’re safe. You’re okay. It’s over. I got you.” He soothed his hand over your hair and down your back, until his hand cupped your hip and dragged you even closer to him. “He ain’t ever gon’ touch you again. I got you. Imma protect you.”

You could only sob, fisting the back of his denim jacket.

“You’re safe, baby.” He pressed his lips to your forehead, kissing your skin tenderly. “I ain’t ever letting’ you get hurt again. I got you.”

Eventually, your sobs quietened, the shoulder of his jacket damp and salty, and you pulled back, but your hands remained clutched onto his sleeve. “My— my ankle.” You whimpered. “It’s chained.”

He let you go, unable to go far with you clinging to his sleeve like a young child, reaching for the chain around your ankle and getting it an experimental tug. His rage was increasing with every second he spent looking at you like this. “Okay, honey, we’ll getcha’ outta here.” He assured you softly, smiling, squeezing your calf gently. “Jenny, help me out here.”

Your eyes lifted to Jenny, reaching for her hand as she passed you. She took your hand and squeezed, using her other to search her pockets for anything to release the chains.

After a few endless minutes, Beau released you from the chain, freeing you. His hands were latched onto your leg gently, as he worked you out of the loosened chain. The moment your foot slipped free, you threw yourself at him.

He grunted in surprise, getting knocked off his balance. One hand landed on the ground to steady himself, the other circled your waist, holding you to him. He chuckled quietly, warmth and love blossoming in his chest like a flower in spring. “I got you.” He whispered. You were practically on top of him, clinging onto him desperately. “Let’s get y’outta here. C’mon, hon, let’s get you home.”

Beau just about managed to dislodge you from him, but you gripped onto his arm tightly. He exchanged a look with Jenny and Cassie, who had, too, noticed the fact you refused to let go of him.

“Call the paramedics.” He told Jenny, who nodded and retrieved her phone from her pocket. Beau guided you out of the room, down the stairs. “Where is he?” He asked you softly, his words gentle. “Is he here?”

Your head shook. “He left an hour ago.” He nodded at your whispered words. His hand slipped from the small of your back to your hip, keeping you safe and secure against his side. “Did you— was it— was it you that arrested him?”

Solemn, he nodded. “Yeah, honey, it was us.” He spoke gently, as to not upset you, leading you outside of the house. You took your first breath of proper fresh air in a week. “We couldn’t hold him. I’m so sorry.”

“No.” You whispered. “Don’t. Thank you.”

Beau just held you until the paramedics arrived.

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

“She hasn’t said a word since you brought her in, Sheriff.” Your doctor was a kind man; trying his best to snap you back into the real world. But, apparently, the moment you hit the hospital bed, you dissociated. 12 hours later, you were still out of it. “You can try. But, I’m sorry, it’s likely she won’t speak to you.”

Beau just nodded, and heeding his warnings, stepped into your hospital room.

The bruises were horrible and ugly. Dark purples and blacks, green and yellows. Beau barely contained his rage at the sight of you, so beaten and broken. Bandages wrapped around the worst of the wounds.

And your eyes.

Beau had never seen you so… far away.

He’d helped you through plenty of panic attacks. Held you as you gasped for air, telling him through ragged breaths that your lungs were certainly collapsing.

But, right now, you were just vacant. If he didn’t know better, he’d say your eyes looked dead.

Still, he moved forwards, sitting on the uncomfortable chair beside your equally as uncomfortable bed. “Hey.” He whispered, keeping his voice soothing. He reached out, gentle, taking your hand within both of his. “Doc said you’re not speakin’.”

Your head turned to him. Okay. That was good. You were reactive. You were aware. Though your expression was close to emotionless, at least you could hear him, at least you were reacting to your environment.

He smiled, squeezing your hand, carefully minding the IV drips in the back of your hands. “You doin’ a’right?” No response. He wet his lips, and took it in his stride. “We’re lookin’ for Jack. We’ll find ‘im in no time.” He assured you, stroking his thumb across your bruised knuckles.

All he got was a slight squeeze of your fingers on his hand.

But it gave him hope.

“You’re safe now, hon.” He whispered, lifting his hand to his lips. He flashed you a lopsided smile, gently kissing the back of your palm. “I promise you. You’re safe”

You rolled onto your side to face him, fingers wrapping around his palm. You held on so tight, your nails dug onto his calloused skin. Beau didn’t mind; he just stroked your skin with his thumb gently. Your eyes closed for the first time in 3 days.

He smiled brightly.

It made him feel good. To know just sitting at your side was enough to make you feel so safe. He’d sleep here every damn night if it meant you could rest.

“Thank you.” You whispered, knees sliding up and pressing to your chest.

Beau deflated with relief and joy. “You’re welcome, baby.” He murmured, soft. “Jus’ get some rest, hm? I’ll be right here, all night. Promise.”

He stuck to his word, falling asleep with his head on the edge of your bed, folded over on his chair. He woke up the next morning, his entire back aching — but, it was worth it.

━━━━━━ ✿ ━━━━━━

“The rest of his properties came out empty.” Jenny reported to him, when he returned to the station that afternoon. He sat behind his desk, one hand up his shirt, massaging his lower neck, arm bent awkwardly. Jenny gave him a strange look, but continued. “Wherever he is, he’s well hidden. We’ve got officers posted at each of his properties, in case he backtracks.”

Beau nodded, and then grunted in pain, shifting uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn’t cause an uncomfortable ache in his back. Despite the pain, he didn’t regret staying at the hospital with you one bit.

He’d woken up to you hugging his arm to your chest, staring at him with a smile. He’d stayed and spoke softly to you, even if you didn’t reply, until he was removed so they could run some tests on you.

Jenny’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Seriously, what is wrong with you?” She dropped her files onto his desk, a mixture of concerned and amused. “You in pain?”

He groaned, finally showing his discomfort, nodding. “Fell asleep in the hospital las’ night.” He took a sip of his coffee at just the memory of his horrible night of sleep. “Slept funny. My backs gone stiff.”

Her expression diminished a bit at the mention of the hospital. Jenny nodded, solemn. “Visited her?”

Beau hesitated, eyes flicking up to Jenny. “Yeah.” He grunted in confirmation, shifting on his chair. “She’s doin’ better. Recoverin’ fast.”

The blonde nodded, expression softer than it had been mere seconds ago. “That’s good.” Beau hummed quietly in agreement. Jenny remained staring at him. “She say anything to you?”

“Not really.” He muttered. His eyes turned away from Jenny, hiding his emotion, fiddling with the corner of one of his files. “Just a thank you.”

Jenny sighed. Her hand landed on Beau’s arm, comfortingly squeezing the muscles “She’ll get there.” She tried her best to assure Beau; she always did. “She’ll get better, you know she will.”

“Yeah.” Beau murmured, his smile strained. He didn’t quite find it in him to believe her. “Let’s just catch the fucker.”

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taglist: @yvonneeeee @deans-spinster-witch @fanfic-n-tabulous @dwonfilm @foxyjwls007 @just-levyy @i-love-ptv @hobby27

[aritsukemo]

Hii!! omg i love LOVE your mitsuri kanjiro! partner (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) !! would love to see her again

Kisses | Mitsuri Kanroji

Warnings: Nothing much. GN Reader ahead, petnames ( such as angel, dear, etc. ) are thrown around like potato chips in this. This was written in the same marriage au as my other Mitsuri post! That said, you and Mitsuri are still in the corps, though it is implied that you are not a Hashira. Besides that, fluff ahead! Read at your own discretion!

A/N: Request done!! 😉 Tysm for requesting!! Got this idea from this prompt made by the amazing @creativepromptsforwriting!! I hope you enjoy, sweetheart!! <3

Tagging: @tragedy-of-commons and @nursedflowers

“Are you angry with me?”

The question had your hand pausing mid-air, preventing you from tasting the savory heaven that you had messily impaled on your chopsticks. It made your brow rise like your eyes and cause your mouth—which was already half full with barely chewed food—to fall open unceremoniously.

 “Hu- Ack!” You inhaled, nearly choking on the food in your mouth in the process as it falls and catches in your esophagus. You cough, setting your chopsticks down before bawling your fist up to give your chest a few good hits. It’s only when you feel as though you can breathe properly again that you open your mouth again to ask, “Wh- What are you saying?”

 “I- I’m not accusing you or anything!” She shoots out, her prettily polished nails waving around in a small burst of panic, “I’m sorry, dear! So sorry, I shouldn't have—!”

 “N- No—” You heave, your throat still reeling from the pain of having a slab of food uncomfortably wedged in a place it shouldn’t have, “No… No, it's fine. Please, Mitsu, tell me what’s on your mind.”

 “W- Well..” She starts, her glossed lips quivering as her lashes—primed to perfection—flutter more majestically than any butterfly you’ve seen.

Sometime after you moved into her manor, Mitsuri had made it a habit to dress herself up for dinner as if every night you feasted was some special date night for reasons unknown. You’ve attempted to pry a few times since then but to no avail so far—not that you’re trying particularly hard to press her for a reason as you’re just fine with drooling over her home cooked meals whilst ogling at her.

 “I was just thinking…um…” Her mouth is parted, yet her words refuse to come out as if they were being held down by her vocal chords. Furthermore, though it may just be an illusion of the lights overhead, her pink watermelon-colored bangs seemed to lay particularly flat against her skin as if they were laying against glue—was she sweating?

 “Mitsu, baby..” You call on her oh so sweetly, oh so softly—as if her very nicknames were made of the cakes she often consumed—and your hand reaches out to offer your palm to her. Thankfully, she reciprocates the action, reaching one of her dainty hands out to curl into your palm.

You take a moment to thank her for the small action, pulling away just enough to run your thumb along her knuckles before forcing her hand to spread open. From there, you weave your fingers into the cracks of her hand before clasping down and giving her hand a small squeeze.

 “No need to be so nervous,” You finally spoke again, looking back up to lock with those gorgeous that you remember complimenting the first day you met her, on your first date, and on the day you proposed to her—not counting all the times in between that left her stammering to return the favor.

 “Talk to me, I wanna know what’s bothering my angel.”

As you expected, she reacts so beautifully to your tone and petname—her cheeks, both already dotted by a mole, bloom a rosy pink just slightly darker than her hair. You could practically feel the heat as it spread through her face, and by the time it began to singe her ears, she finally looked down at her plate and parts her lips to allow the turmoil that has been filling up her head since earlier today to pour out.

 “I was just thinking you were mad at me…since you didn’t kiss me goodbye before you left this morning..”

Silence filled the air, trailing after the echo of her voice. It stretched, waning on without even the clacking of dinnerware disturbing it, until..

 “Pfft—!” Mitsuri snaps her head up, revealing her eyes coated in a translucent wall of tears. That wall is quick to build, and before she can truly see your reaction, the tears solidify to the point it blurs her vision—leaving her to go off nothing but what her ears pick up.

And to her surprise, she hears the warm, ebullient jingle of her lover’s snickering.

 “Baby… Goodness…” They could barely get their words out as they were using every bit of their strength to prevent themselves from laughing in her tearful face. When another snicker signals to them their own downfall, they decide to finally stand from the table.

 “You adorable thing…” They coo as they cross the small distance and bring their hands up to cup her face before tilting her head upwards to stare at them.

 “I had no idea,” You tried your best to sound sincere—after all it was obvious how dire this was for Mitsuri seeming as she was brought to tears over it—but it was hard to do so when you could barely keep your face straight. You made sure, though, to at least reassure her with your touch—thumbing at her cheek and helping her discard her tears by flicking them away. 

 “I’m sorry… I- I’m probably overreacting,” She whimpered to which you immediately shook your head.

 “Not at all, your concerns are completely valid. I’m in the wrong for letting it slip my mind,” You told her.

 “No, no,” She retorted, “You were in a rush this morning so it makes sense. I- I was just letting myself get too far into my own head..”

You exasperate a huff, but not a hint of irritation or anger is evident as you stared down at the love of your life as though you were falling in love with her for the first time all over again.

 “Whatever you say… So, can I focus on making it up to you now?” You ask, and through clumped, ruined lashes, her eyes lift quizzically.

 “You don’t have to—” “I beg to differ,” And before she could say anything else, you lean in and capture her lip.

Honey quickly floods your mouth and as your lips slosh together, you catch a hint of raspberry—likely from the pastry you gave her earlier that day when you first returned home.

It felt as though you were drinking pure syrup, but you highly doubt that had anything to do with that treat. No, you were certain that this was an original concoction unique to the woman before you—one that changed every time depending on her mood but always kept that sugary tang of her love and adoration that kept you wanting to beg for more every single time.

Despite wanting nothing more than to overdose on the addicting drugs that were her lips, you forced yourself to part from her just when you were teetering on the edge so that you could lean down and plant little kisses down her neck.

Mitsuri squeals like a baby kitten as her hands fly up to grip at your shoulders. She could easily push you away or move you entirely—you wouldn’t fight her if she did no matter how much you wanted her—but thankfully, she seems to adore the attention your lips are giving her, even when that comes with the price of such ticklish torture.

 “Hey— Hehe~! B- Babe–ah!” She cracks up. Her bubbly laughter penetrating your ears as she doubles over against you. You take it as encouragement and continue on to pepper the other side of her neck. By then, the meaning for her tears had changed completely as they poured like a gushing waterfall down her face.

 “Y/n!!” She cries through her giggles, after a moment or so, shrieking, “Wait! Please– Wait…!”

At last, you part from your favorite dessert and look up at her. Just seeing her in pure bliss has your eyes glazing over with it and that paired with the lazy grin present on your face made you look absolutely whipped in the eyes of your beloved. That said, despite just pleading for mercy, it doesn’t take her long to dive in to taste your lips again.

You exchanged your now breathy giggles with one another, passing them through each others’ lips until they began to puff up from the endless assault, and even then, neither you nor her truly parted—resting your heads against one another and allowing your noses to brush and tease each other.

 “...What was that for?” She mumbled, not nearly as out breath as you were at the moment—a clear attestation to her status as the Love Hashira. Winded, you merely smile like a drunken idiot which, in a way, answers her question.

She lets yet another giggle slip her by, the remainder of her worries being exhaled out alongside such a joyous sound, as her eyes lid to a close and she leans in to finish what you started..

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[arlongsbabygirl]

Can I get some Hachi x reader imagines? 🥺 I love that dumb lil octopus boy

AN: Been awhile since i've done this Pey but Im cracking my writing knuckles just for you. XD

Seashell Smiles The sun is high in the sky, and you’re both sprawled out on the sand, feeling the warmth of the day settle around you. Hatchan, ever the multitasker, has been darting back and forth between the shore and your little spot, collecting seashells with a look of concentration that’s both endearing and amusing. “Look at this one!” he says, holding up a perfectly spiraled shell, his face lighting up with that familiar, wide grin. He seems so at peace here by the water, and it’s hard not to get caught up in his infectious joy.

After a while, he gets up and announces, “I think it’s time for takoyaki,” and before you know it, he’s set up a small grill, cooking up his signature dish with all six arms moving at once. The smell of the sizzling batter fills the air, and you can't help but smile as he hums contentedly, flipping the takoyaki with expert precision. The two of you sit together, munching on the delicious, crispy bites, the sound of the waves providing a soothing backdrop. It's a day of simple pleasures, and in the warmth of the sun and Hatchan’s easy company, you feel completely content.

Takoyaki Chaos The clattering of pans and the sizzle of batter fill the small kitchen, and Hatchan is in his element. He’s got all six arms working, flipping takoyaki on one side, stirring sauce on the other, while occasionally juggling a spatula just to make you laugh. “You’re getting the hang of it!” he says, beaming as you manage to make a halfway decent batch of takoyaki on your own. It’s chaotic but fun, and Hatchan’s laughter makes the whole process feel like less of a lesson and more like a playful game.

At one point, he hands you the takoyaki mold and steps back, letting you take over. “I’ll be the taste-tester,” he says with a wink, folding his arms across his chest. You feel the pressure, but he’s so encouraging that it’s hard to mess up when he’s there cheering you on. By the time the batch is done, you’re both covered in flour, laughing so hard your sides hurt. And when Hatchan finally takes a bite, he gives you an exaggerated, chef-like nod of approval, declaring, “Perfect!” with that booming laugh of his. It’s messy, chaotic, and full of joy—just the way time with him should be.

Karate and Smiles Hatchan towers over you, but there’s nothing intimidating about his gentle, patient smile as he shows you the basics of Fish-Man Karate. “It’s all about flow,” he explains, moving his arms in a graceful arc, as if he’s moving through water. His movements are fluid and controlled, and you can’t help but be amazed by how natural it all seems to him.

As you practice the moves, Hatchan stays close, offering quiet words of encouragement. “Don’t force it,” he says softly. “Let it come naturally.” You try again, and this time, it feels smoother, more right. When you finally get the technique down, Hatchan lets out a cheer, his multiple arms raised in celebration. “You did it!” he says, his grin wide and genuine.

After the lesson, the two of you sit on the beach, catching your breath. The sound of the waves is calming, and Hatchan leans back, looking out at the horizon. “You’ve got potential,” he says, his voice thoughtful. He shares a few stories from his past, his tone shifting between nostalgia and reflection. It’s moments like these where you see the depth behind his usual playful demeanor, and it makes you appreciate him even more.

Bubbles and Adventure Sabaody Archipelago is bustling with activity, but Hatchan knows the hidden corners where the noise fades and the beauty of the bubbles truly shines. He leads you through the twisting streets like an excited tour guide, pointing out little-known bubble parks and shops that only locals frequent. “This place has the best takoyaki on the island,” he says, pulling you toward a small food stand. “Well, second best,” he adds with a wink, clearly proud of his own cooking.

As you walk through the shimmering bubbles that float lazily in the air, Hatchan shares stories from his past, his voice a mix of excitement and thoughtfulness. Some stories are funny, like the time he got stuck in a giant bubble and had to be fished out by his crewmates, while others are more serious, touching on his time with Arlong and the changes he’s been through since. His openness catches you off guard, but it also makes the day feel more meaningful, like you’re not just exploring the island—you’re getting to know him in a deeper way.

Brushstrokes and Admiration Hatchan’s place is surprisingly cozy, filled with little knick-knacks and vibrant paintings of underwater scenes. He’s set up a little art station, canvases spread out, brushes at the ready, and a splash of bright colors already decorating his six arms. “Come on, let’s paint,” he says, handing you a brush and flashing that wide, toothy grin.

You sit side by side, working on your own canvases, though Hatchan’s pace is much faster with all his extra arms. “It’s not a race,” he says when he catches you glancing at his progress, laughing as he adds another swirl of blue to his piece. His paintings are incredible—detailed and full of life, with vivid depictions of ocean landscapes and mythical sea creatures. As you work, he offers little tips here and there, but mostly, he just chats, sharing stories about Fish-Man Island and the art he grew up loving.

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, and by the time the sun starts to dip below the horizon, you’re both surrounded by finished paintings, each one bursting with color and life. “This was fun,” Hatchan says, wiping a bit of paint from his cheek. “We should do this more often.” And as you look around at the vibrant art covering the room, you can’t help but agree.

Starry Nights The night is quiet, the only sound being the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. Hatchan suggested stargazing tonight, and now the two of you are lying on a blanket by the sea, looking up at the vast expanse of stars. “See that one?” he says, pointing to a particularly bright constellation. “We call that the Octopus King back home.”

His voice is soft, almost reverent, as he shares stories of the constellations he grew up with on Fish-Man Island. You find yourself mesmerized not just by the stars, but by the way Hatchan talks about them—with such awe and wonder, like he’s seeing them for the first time, even though you know he’s seen them a thousand times before. There’s something comforting about being here with him, under the stars, the world around you feeling so big and yet so peaceful.

Eventually, Hatchan falls silent, simply gazing up at the sky, and you both sit there in comfortable quiet, sharing the beauty of the moment. The stars twinkle overhead, the waves murmur below, and for a while, it feels like time has stopped.

The Fishman Festival The Fish-Man festival is in full swing, with bright lights, colorful decorations, and the lively hum of music filling the air. Hatchan is grinning from ear to ear as he pulls you through the crowd, his enthusiasm contagious. “You’ve gotta try this!” he says, handing you a fish cake from one of the many food stalls. It’s delicious, and you can’t help but laugh as Hatchan grabs another for himself, clearly enjoying every bite.

The festival is a celebration of Fish-Man culture, and Hatchan is eager to share every part of it with you. He points out traditional dances, pulls you into games, and explains the history behind the festival with a mix of pride and excitement. At one point, he even jumps into the center of a dance circle, his multiple arms moving with surprising grace as the crowd cheers him on. You’re laughing so hard you barely notice when he reaches out, pulling you into the dance with him.

The night goes by in a blur of music, laughter, and lights, and by the time it’s over, you’re both exhausted but happy. “Best festival ever,” Hatchan says as he walks you home, the soft glow of the festival lights still visible in the distance.

AN: Its not much, but I tried and thats what counts! hope ya like it Pey even if this might be..YEARS late ; ~;

[xarrixii]

Chapter_12 : "Pyrokinetic Rehabilitation" ━━━━━━━━━━━━━

CW: suggested abuse, discrimination previous chapter | beginning | masterlist

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He’d only been trying to make breakfast cook faster so that Gabriel—his little brother—could make it to the school bus on time. Their parents hadn’t woken up yet, and neither of them knew that he had a registered license. Unfortunately, when they saw the gas burner on low and Harlow running around the place heating up blueberry waffles in his hands, it wasn’t the most exciting thing to them ever.

They’d most likely woken up to Harlow’s footsteps as he ran around helping Gabriel get ready. Unfortunate, the first few mute years of Gabriel’s life were spent learning to read wild gesticulation and facial expressions instead of sign language.

Harlow was the only one who had bothered trying.

Harlow was the only one in the hand binders.

It made trying to find all of Gabriel’s littered belongings a lot harder.

When Harlow and Gabriel’s parents saw Harlow heating up two blueberry waffles from small manipulation of the stove flame, they threw a fit. They screamed. Called the cops.

Get your filth out! Gabriel, turn off the burner.

With every inkling he had, he hoped to death Gabriel wouldn’t turn out pyrokinetic.

They’d called him a rampant, uncontrollable monster. It’d been their only excuse for why Harlow had been passed out cold by the time the cops arrived. He couldn’t tell if they were more annoyed by him or his parents after all these years.

So he’d spent five days with his hands bound.

For trying to cook waffles faster.

His fingers ached when he was finally cleared to leave the inappropriately named Pyrokinetic Rehabilitation and Misuse Clinic. Otherwise known as rehab. There was nothing rehabilitating about it. Most of its occupants hadn’t misused anything at all. It’s just a fancy way of saying We’re terrified of your ability to make us lack control at all times, so we’re going to lock you up.

It’s why he hadn’t ever bothered learning to control fire with his mind more than his hands. The moment it was known he could, they’d never send him back.

Dubbed, uncontrollable.

The cli-click of the heavy metal being taken off his outstretched hands was blissful. Shortly followed by the blood rushing back with its brittle needles.

“Alright,” the girl in the mostly fire-proof suit said, tired and exasperated. “Just follow up to the pharmacy, and you’ll be out of here again. Your hands are alright?”

“Yeah. Far from my first rodeo, Marthe.” Harlow stretches his fingers a few times, pulling his arms back to crack his knuckles before Marthe catches his wrist and he turns back to look.

“Stop coming back here, hey? Food tastes better from a fork.”

“Out of my hands.”

“That’s what the meds are for. And get that cut treated.” She lets go.

“I know.”

Harlow had stopped trying to tell people what was happening behind closed doors after the first few times. He bit his lip and approached the pharmacy locker. A glorified warehouse for kinetic suppressors. That also happened to make people that weren’t kinetic delirious. Government monitored like all shit.

Last time he’d touched one was the day Raiden had interrogated him. He’d freaked out. Summoned fire without wanting to. He couldn’t put out his own flame.

The clinic employee shoved another bottle into his hands. Sent him on his way. Fresh air blasted him in the face the moment he opened the door out. Ten minutes and a stop at the gas station on his way home later, he felt a tug on his arm and whipped around. He was shoved into the wall of a building’s alley, hand over his mouth.

Where the fuck have you been? flickered through his brain. Liam.

He mumbled over the hand with a disheveled grunt. Is there an issue?

I don’t care about whatever joke you think Cinder is at the moment. Where the hell have you been to go false radar for five fucking days?

Once again, is there an issue?

The guy holding him lets go and draws back their full-faced mask. Liam turns to look around before pulling Harlow off the wall. “You⸺ You can’t just ignore everyone and pretend you’re dead for five days. You work for Cinder now. Operatives going missing is a big fucking deal.”

“Reminder that I’m not Cinder’s operative. I’m still just some ex-rehab kid trying to weasel his way into your precious kinetic haven.”

“Kid, I would let you in in a heartbeat. A pyrokinetic with any amount of control, ever, does wonders for the criminal industry. Fire is very good in a fight when you’re good at it.”

“And when you’re deemed a raging psychopath.”

“Where were you?”

“I was in rehab.”

“That’s a funny joke for someone like you. You might have needed it before, but you would not lose control over some nobody fuckwad. You proved that enough.”

The cut on Harlow’s hand suddenly seemed a lot more apparent as he turned and started home again. He heard Liam’s footsteps following close behind.

“Seriously, less bullshit. Where?”

“I told you, rehab.”

“If you’re not being honest with me⸺”

“My parents are severely kineticist and called the fucking cops on me because I made my little brother a waffle with my hand and a stove burner. Happy? Five days, for a little thing like that.”

The grim look he spotted on Liam’s face was enough to say he finally got the hint.

“What do you want?”

“You have to re-take your exam, don’t you?”

Harlow snickered. “Yeah, right. Sending me right back, are you.”

“It wasn’t my decree. Despite your accusations, I could really care less about what other people think about you. If you’re able to take the exam, I want you to take it. Cinder needs field operatives.”

“You sound like Raiden now. If they happened to support any of their mother’s antics.”

Liam only frowned. He could almost sense the notion being carried by thought. “You could do with some assertiveness, you know.”

“It’s called being a realist. It’s a bad option and a worse option.”

“Rehab cannot be that bad.”

Harlow was silent for the rest of the walk. Liam only spoke again when he set a hand on the front door to the penthouse lobby. “Wait, so, your PY rehab clinic has telepathic blocking methods?”

“That’s what my parents read they were paying the extra for, whatever it means. Enjoy the rest of your day, Liam. I’ll probably sleep at Cinder tonight.”

next chapter

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ▲ missing a content warning? let me know

pretty sure i've said it before, but i am very insensitive when it comes to putting warning labels on stuff. i'd appreciate the help on this chapter *especially*

this one is wild compared to chapter eleven

[qichun]

sacrificial woks ft karasu tabito

☆ minors do not interact | 1.4k words | taglist

♡ contents - g!n reader (i try to keep it as gender neutral as possible), bf!karasu, the sacrifice of a frying pan and the death of some yakisoba, a healthy dose of fluff

♤ warnings - pet names (love, baby), a lot of anxiety!, this fic is self ship coded, tickling, no explicit sex but heavily implied, a little bit of grinding.

♧ authors notes - a big happy birthday to my beloved Karasu.

reblogs and feedback appreciated ♡ i do not give permission to anyone to repost or redistribute my work on other platforms!

You were panicking, hands shaking, eyes glancing towards the clock marking down the minutes until your boyfriend of one year returned from practice. This dinner you were horrendously failing to cook up for Karasu’s birthday was something you were planning to surprise him with but there was just an hour left before he stepped in through the door from a long gruelling practice on his birthday no less, his apartment kitchen was smelling like smoke and it was safe to say you were one more mishap away from a meltdown. 

Ding! The noise of your phone receiving a notification pulled you from your mourning over the wasted food and time you had spent to shake you back into action. Swiping away the text notification from the top of the screen to open up the delivery app that you have come to know so well since living on your own. You knew how to cook but it was basic meals that held you up in your everyday life, but fancy meals like the day was deserving of was not of your purview. Pulling up the page to the shared favourite restaurant, and quickly typing the order, a sigh of relief left you feeling less rushed as the app told you it would be delivered within the timeframe you had left. Another glance at the clock told you, you had enough time to clean up the kitchen and shower to make yourself more presentable for when Tabito got home. 

Cracking open the window to air out the smoke, you set out making the kitchen look less like a war zone, and more like someone had made a respectable dinner. After washing all the utensils and cutlery used for the prep of this disaster of a meal, the wok with the burnt noodles clinging to it like their livelihoods depended on it was disposed of in the sink, to “soak” - hide the evidence - you wasn’t ready nor had the time to apply the amount of elbow grease needed to salvage it. 

Babe almost done, see you soon, love You see you soon, love you 💚 

Making sure to reply to your boyfriends text with a hopefully jovial you darted off to the shower to finish getting yourself ready as well as hoping to wash the anxiety from your bones. Having finally shed your usual lounge attire of sweatpants and a shirt that was most definitely yours, you chose to replace them with a casual and comfy outfit that made you feel a whole lot cuter and fresher than before. As you were leaving the bedroom, a rapping of knuckles on the door announced the arrival of your food and whisked away the worries about your rapidly closing time window before Tabito got home. 

You were setting the plates at the table when you heard the apartment door swing open, looking up, you plastered a soft smile on your face at the widened look of surprise on your boyfriend’s face. Placing his bags on the floor by the door, his look of surprise gradually turned into a grin as he approached. “Hey baby… what’s all this?” His voice taking on a mystified tone, one full of love as he finally reached you, he tenderly laced his arms around your waist, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. Finishing setting up the table, with a hum clearing your throat you leaned into him for a second to soak in the warmth he shared. 

“I-I know you said you didn’t want to do much for your birthday” you hated yourself for stuttering over your words, your small smile turning into a pout as you turned your gaze up towards him. “- but I wanted you to still feel celebrated.” With each word leaving your lips, his gaze turned softer, as if your voice and desire to treat him was melting him at his core. “but I know you’re tired from practice though, so we could just cuddle up and watch a movie.” Leaning up on your tiptoes you pressed a small kiss on his lips, as you whispered “Happy birthday baby!” Before pulling away and disappearing into the kitchen, returning with drinks for the two of you.

The dinner was a quiet affair, animatedly talking about each other's day in hushed soft tones, leaning into each other, along with soft touches that linger. As plates were cleared and bellies rested content, you were brought out of your revelry by the man next to you. “It tasted great, love, did you really make this?” His words, full of surprise mixed with curiosity, were suspended in the air, awkwardly as you made a rather non-committal hum contemplating if you could pull off a tiny white lie. Deciding against it, you let your lips pull into a pout. “No… I tried, but I had to order.” scrunching your face up in disdain at the fact that you have to clean up your disastrous attempt once the day is done. A chuckle left his lips at the obvious look of distress taking over your features, craning his neck to the side where your head lay on his shoulder to press a kiss atop it. 

“I appreciate your attempt, my love, - his chuckles increase knowing the offence you’ll take from his next question and pulling away to avoid any attempted hits he may take - but pray tell, what state is my kitchen in?” And as if he foresaw the future a rather large pout overtook your features as you lightly assaulted his arm with a flurry of blows, a whine following you burying your face into his shoulder. Huffing slightly as you pressed your face further into your shoulder as if you wanted to meld into his body to hide your shame, a muffled “there was no fire at least… this time” 

Hanging your head in shame as he leaned away so he could take a proper look at you, you felt a soft pressure of a finger under your chin, lifting your head so he could look you in the eyes, the small smile that graced his lips never faltering. “It’s okay baby, if there was any left of it I would have eaten it.” The attempt to comfort and pull you out of your grief worked, making you shake with laughter as you shook your head. “Unfortunately, unless you want to eat chargrilled noodles with steel wok as seasoning, I wouldn’t advise it.” 

After the conversation died down, it was like going through the motions working around each other seamlessly as you cleaned the kitchen with his aid, the wok left again to its soaking in hopes it would be easier to tackle in the morning. Wrapped up in each other’s arms, rocking slightly whilst navigating your way to the living room, a soft grunt leaving both of your lips as you crashed onto the sofa on top of his chest. A giggle leaving your lips as you squirmed to get comfortable, whilst you laid your head on his chest, a hand of yours slipping under his loose thin shirt, he placed his hands on the back of your head, his fingers running through your hair and occasionally massaging your scalp. 

The sound of the movie in the background slowly filled the air, you tried to keep your eyes on the tv screen, but the weight of your boyfriend’s hand in your hair, and the feeling of his solid body against yours along with the sound of his steady heartbeat lingering in your ears washed the stress from the day away. Melting into his arms and comfort as you yawned, causing the man underneath you to chuckle, you pouted, before turning your lips upwards into a smirk, the hand under his shirt shifting towards his waist, a gasp from his lips and an urgent “don’t” not deterring you from wiggling your fingers against his skin in a way that made him flinch underneath you. It wasn’t long before his squirming turned into a full blown wrestling match that left you both panting, his hands wrapped around your wrists pinning them to the sofa as he leered over you.  

The air stilled between you, as you tried to catch your breath, your teeth dug into your lips, your eyes lingering on his and as if beckoning him with your gaze he leant in, crashing his lips against yours in a hard kiss that grew in passion as he loosened his grip on your wrists enough for your to lace them around his shoulders to pull him closer. A whimper leaving your lips as an answer to the grinding of his hips into yours, the movie playing in the background long gone as you were quickly stripped of your clothes, you sighs filling the air between you. You never quite made it to bed that night.

[suna-cerely-yours]

warnings: suggestive, fem!bodied reader

“yeah just come in, ‘tsumu shouldn’t be home for a while- we’ll actually have some peace ‘n quiet for once.”

laughing, you slip past osamu and into the twins’ shared apartment. it’s a cozy place, clearly well lived in.

“can i get ya somethin’ to drink? i have some leftover rice, i can make ya food too, if ya want.”

“osamu i’m literally here to work on a project, i’m not going to make you cook for me.”

rubbing the back of his neck, he shrugs. “ ‘s not a big deal, i wouldn’t mind cookin’ for ya.”

shaking your head, you move towards the hallway with two doors side by side, “that’s very sweet of you, maybe once we get some work done we can do something for snacks?”

“sure, that works.”

moving ahead he opens the second door, revealing a neat bed pushed against a wall, opposite to a desk. he gestures for you to sit on his bed while he pulls the desk chair closer, taking a seat.

the pair of you have only been working for a solid twenty minutes when you hear the front door slam.

osamu immediately sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“he was supposed to be at practice for another hour, but looks like luck is not on our side today.”

before osamu can continue, there’s a dull thud in the hallway and the door to atsumu’s room is opened and shut- hastily from the sound of it.

he shakes his head again, getting up.

“just a minute, i’ll tell him to keep it dow-”

a loud, distinctly female moan interrupts him, followed by a drawn out cry of ‘atsumu’.

your mouth falls open as osamu stares at you in horror.

“he’s not, no way, that fucker did not”.

more whimpers and moans fill the silence, the woman clearly enjoying himself. you and osamu merely stare at each other, when the unmistakable sound of the bedframe banging against the wall starts.

osamu cracks his knuckles, “ i’m goin’ to kill him, i’ll finally live out my dream of bein’ a single child, that’s it-”

“wait wait wait osamu, has this happened before?”

you get off the bed, grabbing his arm,” oh my gosh, has this really happened before?”

worrying his lower lip between his teeth he shrugs, “like a couple of times, maybe? i usually high-tail it outta here once it starts.”

“well, that’s kinda rude.”

he snorts, “have ya met atsumu? he’s the definition of rude.”

“you know,” you start, trying to hide a smile, ”we could get back at him.”

he looks at you questioningly, eyebrows raised, “yeah? go on.”

“we could give him a taste of his own medicine, like uh,” tugging slightly on his arm, you pull him towards the shared wall.

keeping your eyes fixed on osamu, you moan, loud enough for the sound to carry over to the next room. the banging doesn’t stop, but osamu freezes, mouth parting. pressing your lips together you nod slowly at him, and he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing- before returning your nod.

letting a smile split your face, you let go of his arm and jump on his bed.

“osamu, just like that mhm-”

the banging stutters.

pressing two fingers against your own tongue, you moan again, “ ‘samu please.”

the banging and moaning comes to a stop, your target is clearly engaged.

osamu still stands, gaze fixed heavily on you, hands clenched.

you flutter your hand, asking him to move closer.

“osamu, you have to do it too,” you whisper.

alarm fills his eyes as he bites down on his lip. you raise your eyebrows expectantly.

looking around once, he steps closer, knees touching the bed, before groaning, the sound just a little too artificial. however it seems to have done the trick as you hear atsumu’s low what the fuck.

“you think you can make the bed shake too? or is that something only mr hotshot athlete over there can do?”

rolling his eyes, he moves on the bed and has you flat on your back, him hovering over you.

“i was a hotshot athlete too ya know.”

and that’s the only warning you get before he’s moving, rocking his hips over yours, hard enough for the bed frame to hit against the wall.

mirth fills you as you realize, and you’re moaning again, moans punctured with whimpers and drawn out cries of his name. you’d have to be daft to not know what was going on.

too caught up in each other, you fail to hear the front door slam.

dissolving into giggles, you wrap your arms around his neck and he drops his full weight on you, muffling his laughter.

“my idiot brother’s probably never made a girl actually come, so he couldn’t even make out the difference.”

“i’m not usually that loud either.”

you feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck, before he’s balancing himself over you again, eyes locked with yours.

“i bet i could get you to moan louder.”

dragging your tongue over your lower lip, you tilt your head.

“oh yeah? prove it then.”

[how-masterful]

31 Fics of Fright

Day 27- Children of the Corn Maze

Missy X Reader

Prompt: Corn Maze

Notes: I’m finally back from my little break, and back to daily writing I go! We’re nearly at the end of the month- which means that big power of the doctor remaster is on the horizon!

Warnings: None

Missy had, initially, been incredibly apprehensive about the idea of partaking in a corn maze. For starters, she called the name an incredible cliche. ‘The amazing maze of maize’ had incurred a rather powerful eye roll from the Mistress of evil, your hopes and dreams that you’d been building for the last hour after finding out it was a thing dying at breakneck speed. She’d placed her experiment on the table, staring at you through a pair of rounded goggles with an unimpressed look.

“How corny.”

“Missy, please.”

“Didn’t they make a film about children made of corn?”

“No, that was Children OF the corn. Completely different.”

“It’s the opening night thing all over again.”

“Yes, and you ended up enjoying yourself, didn’t you?”

Missy pulled the goggles up to her forehead, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed.

“Are you trying to suggest I don’t know how to have fun?”

She was baiting you. Brutally, painfully baiting you. This was one of her tricks, it had to be. However, you were struggling to garner what type of reaction she was after. Was she scouting for compliments? For you to argue that she was fun, which she was, and grovel at her feet about her entertainment value? Or was she trying to make you challenge her, call her boring and cause her to act upon whatever plan she was currently cooking up while you were thinking, all under the guise of her proving you wrong?

No, you decided. You weren't going to play into her, albeit admirable, manipulation of you. You sighed and sat down on the opposite side of the work bench, taking the Timelady’s hand into your own. Your thumbs caressed over the back of her knuckles, your touch tender.

“I’m suggesting, Missy, that I want to have a wonderful, seasonally appropriate night of fun with the woman I love. I want to live my Sarah Williams fantasy and walk around an alien Labyrinth of corn, arm in arm with you, competing against other people for the best score. And after I'm done, I want to sit and eat popcorn and almost break my teeth on a candy apple, basking in our victory.”

The cracks were beginning to emerge in Missy’s stoic expression. You kept your gentle grasp on her hands, observing her like a stray animal. Not wanting to spook her, but dangerously curious about how she’d respond. She leant forward, a small smirk begging to grow on her lips.

“And you want to do all this… with me?”

“Well, I'm hardly asking the Doctor right now, am I?”

The smirk on her lips had grown into a full-blown grin.

“And you’re telling me it’s a contest?”

“Winners get bragging rights and free carnival food.”

Missy patted the back of your hand, a newfound determination upon her face.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around, poppet. Now, where did you say this maze was?”

By the time you’d arrived at the entrance to the corn maze, Missy was ready for action. She’d dressed fully prepared for the expedition of a lifetime. Black pantaloon trousers tucked into knee high heeled boots, a deep purple pirate shirt and black vest, her mess of curls neatly tied into her typical updo. You had to admit, seeing Missy without her skirt was doing incredible things to your heart rhythm, her brooch now around her throat upon a band of velvet like a Victorian choker. The Mistress was ready for an adventure, compared to your comfortable shoes and jacket to fight off the chill. 

She always dressed for the occasion. Some things never changed.

The second the gate to the maze swung open, Missy had grasped hold of your hand and begun to yank you through the corridors of corn, almost pulling you off your feet.

“Missy, slow down!”

“Slow means second, baby! We’re cooking on gas or leaving the kitchen!”

You supposed you should have seen this coming. Missy had a violently potent competitive streak. Never the one for a mercy win, she took great pride in demolishing you at every game you played. Monopoly, cards, connect four, battleship. You still couldn’t look at UNO without wincing. Plus, the time she beat you at back-to-back strip poker and twister… but you weren’t complaining about that one.

Missy was charging through the maze at a roaring pace, her nostrils flaring like a bloodhound, her eyes scanning over every cob of corn that flanked her sides. You were already winded, breathing deep and thanking the gods Missy had paused in her movements. Maybe you could finally catch your breath.

“If we’re in quadrant one, and the wall curves here, we should be able to find our way into the next area…”

She was muttering to herself, fingers poised upon her chin. You were incredibly impressed at how serious she was taking the whole thing. At first, you’d anticipated her pulling out all the stops to cheat her way to the win. Maybe the doctor was beginning to rub off on her.

“WE NEED TO GO THIS WAY!”

She squealed, pulling you from your thoughts. The hand from her chin had flown to your wrist, giving a quick tug as she began to pull you deeper into the maze. She wove in and out of the different alleyways, swiftly navigating the pair of you beyond any dead ends or repeats.

“You humans are just adorable. All those sweet little things you place in these mazes. Scarecrows, cannibals that cut your faces off and wear them. You even made CHILDREN out of them in one film!”

“No, Missy, again- the children weren't made of corn, they were OF the corn, it was a metaphor-”

“TURN RIGHT!”

Missy harshly yanked you away from the left turn, her hand pulling at the back of your shirt as she charged in the other direction. 

“And the one where the hockey mask and zygon fought-”

“Freddy Kruger wasn’t a zygon!”

Part of you was just amazed she could remember all the movies you’d made her sit down to watch with you. Another was also focussed on the burning her grip on your wrist was causing. You picked up your pace, rushing to keep up with her stride. For a small woman, she had an incredible vice like grip. No wonder she never lost her umbrella while running from danger.

“I remember when I played the Wicked Witch, cornfields are dreadful to manage. So are yellow bricks, they just kept getting dirty with all the happy go lucky toe tapping!”

“Since when were you the Wicked Witch of the West?”

Missy smirked over her shoulder, sending you a wink.

“Now that's something for you to look forward to. KEEP LEFT!”

After several more twists and turns, the maze was coming to an end. Missy whooped with joy at the sight, linking her arm within your own and skipping out towards the exit. You joined her in her laughter, a smile spreading across your face as you both skipped out of the end of the maze, the Timelady reaching into the pocket of her vest to pull out a golden pocket watch with Gallifreyan symbols embossed into the metal. She flipped open the lid, peering down at the clock face with a satisfied expression.

“One hour, fourteen minutes and twelve seconds.” She preened, displaying the pocket watch to the amazed attendant. 

The alien grinned out of its two mouths, likely in shock, typing the time into the screen before him. Above your heads the digital leader board buzzed and shook, the hologram of the top score shifting downwards to second place. Your time slid into first, leagues ahead of the other scores. It was the most difficult maze in the galaxy, and you’d just beaten the best score by two solid hours. Well, one hour and fifty seven minutes and twenty nine seconds. But close enough.

“I believe we’re owed our free snacks, my good man.” Missy said, voice sickly sweet.

It wasn’t long until you were happily munching on your popcorn, Missy enjoying picking all the marshmallows out of her mixed bag of sweets as you sat at a bench.

“Quite an impressive time.” She said, the bag of sweets rustling as she dug in for more.

“I know, right? I had no clue you were so good at mazes.”

“Oh, you should’ve seen the dreadful times some of the drones had brought back.” Missy absentmindedly admitted, biting down on a big pink marshmallow.

You paused mid-air, the popcorn falling back into your bucket. Instantly you leant in, whispering harshly.

“You sent drones to get the best time?!”

“No I did not!” Missy gasped, scandalised.

“I sent drones to get the best route! It all really depended on how fast those little human legs could carry you. You did remarkably well, considering.”

“Missy!”

“Did you want to win?”

You sighed, looking down at the popcorn before meeting Missy’s expectant face.

“...Yeah.”

The Mistress patted your hand, satisfied with your answer. She dug out a handful of popcorn, presenting it to your lips like a horse. You rolled your eyes, taking a bite.

“Good pet. Now, you’d better eat that victory popcorn up- or those little corn children will be VERY upset with you.”

[hqbbg]

still.

pairing: miya osamu x fem!reader

prompt: “I told you to stay still.”

genre: smut

word count: 5.3K (I got carried away, oops)

warnings: 18+, masturbation, some degradation, oral (f!receiving), fingering, some spanking, vaginal & unprotected s3x (make sure you wrap your presents, kids), like 2 seconds of cockwarming, uhm I think that’s it oop

author’s note: I'm back with another Haikyuu!! Headquarters collab piece! check out the master list of everyone else’s works here ✨ I hope y’all enjoy this!

The air in your room feels thick as you pant helplessly, feeling the familiar ache in your fingers as they begin to cramp up while plunging in and out of your sopping cunt. You feel so close to your own undoing, unable to control your thoughts as they drift to the man whose room is on the other side of your bedroom wall. You can’t help but think that it’s his fingers squelching within your warmth, though you’re sure they would reach much further than yours ever could.

You don’t do this often, touching yourself to the thought of your roommate while he’s out at work or running errands, but lately you’ve been frustrated.

When you had put out an ad for a roommate, you were hesitant. You didn’t have much of a choice, as your last roommate decided to move out in favor of moving in with her boyfriend, leaving you to scramble for a solution in order to continue to afford rent. As a full-time student with a part time job, it would’ve been inconvenient to move out in the middle of the semester, and it seemed reasonable to quickly search for a roommate to help with the bills until your lease was up.

Miya Osamu was hot, to say the least, though it wasn’t the main reason why you ended up choosing him to be your new roommate. On top of having manners and being financially stable, he knew how to cook and respected your space in the apartment. Unfortunately, you’ve been unable to say the same recently. The number of times his room door was cracked open as he changed almost made you consider that he was doing it on purpose, as if encouraging you to take a peek.

As you recall the way his back muscles flexed as he pulled his shirt over his head all those times you’d told yourself that you were just walking by, you let another moan slip past your lips. Your fingers begin to move quicker, toes curling, and you can feel your arm beginning to tire out. Your back arches as your other hand quickly moves to massage your neglected clit, rubbing harsh circles until your vision flashes white.

You fail to hear the front door open and close as your moans continue to fill the room. The memory of seeing Osamu stepping out of the bathroom in a simple pair of grey sweatpants with a towel around his neck is still fresh on your mind. You feel yourself clench around your own fingers as you recall your eyes briefly catching sight of the outline of his cock, the image practically ingrained within you. Too many times have you thought about how it would feel inside of you.

Another moan resonates on the walls and you bite your lip, though it does little to stop you from moaning Osamu’s name. Before you know it, you’re overwhelmed by pleasure and your whole body tenses before it relaxes. Your chest heaves as you lay there, trying to recover from your intense orgasm and you want nothing more than to sleep now. You hardly notice that your door is open.

Over the next few days, you can’t help but feel that something is off with Osamu. Though you aren’t particularly close, you’d like to think that you two have developed some sort of friendship with all the shared meals and evenings spent in the living room just chatting about life.

Did he hear you the other night? There was no way; you made sure to give yourself enough time before he was supposed to come home. Then again, you didn’t hear him come in…

Your cheeks begin to burn at the idea that he’d heard you. You let out a groan as you bury your face in your hands, leaning onto your desk. The little motivation you had to study has effectively disappeared and an unsettling mix of nervousness and shame begins to stir in the pit of your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you try to push the dreadful thought out of your head and sit upright. An idea suddenly pops into your head and you abruptly stand up. You walk over to your door and poke your head out, scanning the area to locate your roommate. He’s conveniently in the kitchen, snacking on some leftovers he’d brought back from his restaurant the previous night.

“Hey,” you say awkwardly as you step out. He looks over at you and hums in acknowledgement, his mouth full. You decide to go ahead and speak, though your fingers fidget with the hem of your oversized shirt. “You’re not working tomorrow night, right?”

Osamu shakes his head, swallowing his food. “What’s up?”

“Well,” you hesitate, trying to find a way to come off as casually as you can, “I saw this recipe online for some salmon and vegetables, do you wanna be my guinea pig?”

“Sure,” he nods as he shrugs. “What time?”

“Dinner time,” you say, a little too eagerly. “How about seven?”

His lips quirk upwards into a small smile. “Sounds good to me.”

You watch as he takes another bite of his food before you realize you’re staring, clearing your throat.

“Okay, well, have a good night,” you say and quickly scurry back towards your room. Once you shut the door, you release a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding in. You swiftly move back to your desk, your forgotten notes pushed even further aside as you begin to look for that recipe you’d seen all those weeks ago.

The following day, you make a quick trip to the store to buy ingredients and find yourself nervously counting down the hours and minutes until it’s a reasonable time to start making dinner. You step out of your room to see Osamu already perched on a stool at the small island in the kitchen. He’s slouched over, scrolling through his phone when you walk up. He glances up and greets you with a small smile as you place your phone down near the center of the island countertop.

“Okay, so before I start, I just need to say that I’m definitely not a professional chef in any way,” you say as you move to wash your hands. You can feel his eyes on you as you move around the kitchen, pulling the vegetables from the fridge. You grab the apron hanging on the pantry door and sling it over your head, tying it behind your back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen ya wear that,” Osamu muses as he leans his cheek on his palm. His elbows are both propped up on the counter and you resist the urge to playfully roll your eyes.

“I have to make sure my shirt doesn’t get dirty,” you say, “it’s one of my favorites.”

He says nothing in response, opting for a light chuckle as you begin to wash the vegetables. Once you finish, you pull out the cutting board in front of him on the other side of the island, placing a carrot in the middle.

You open a cabinet and pull out a knife, giving it a quick rinse before positioning the blade to cut through the vegetable. Placing your fingers on the edge, you lift the knife just slightly.

“Hey, be sure to cats paw,” Osamu pipes up, pointing to the hand that’s on the carrot, “If yer not careful, you’ll knick yourself.”

“Huh?” You blink your eyes at him, trying to prevent yourself from sounding like an idiot.

“Like this,” he says, lifting his hand up and curling his fingers inward into a loose fist. You try not to focus on the veins lining his hands, tearing your eyes away and mimicking his motions. You see him drop his hand from your peripherals and finally attempt to cut into the carrot.

Before you know it, the knife slips from your grasp, making a shallow but clean cut across your index knuckle. You let out a curse and hiss as you drop the knife.

“Whoa, are ya okay?” Osamu stands as you begin to make your way to the sink, blocking your path.

“It hurts, but I’m fine,” you reply, looking at him curiously before glancing at your finger. You examine it for a moment, seeing the familiar crimson begin to bead.

“Let me take a look,” says Osamu, gently grabbing a hold of your wrist. He lifts your hand up closer to his face, his eyebrows slightly creasing as you do your best to resist the blush creeping up to your cheeks. “You should be careful.”

“Well, it’s not like this was intentional,” you grumble, unable to meet his eyes. He sighs softly and you glance at him, opening your mouth to say something. However, your train of thought is  completely derailed when his lips wrap around the small incision.

You feel his warm tongue gently lick around it and you can’t help but stare at the way his lips look around your finger. He catches your eyes and pulls away.

“I used to do this to my brother whenever he’d get hurt or something when we were little,” he says, letting go of your wrist. Your face is burning as you drop your hand back down to your side. “Wait here, I’ll go grab a bandage.”

You nod wordlessly, mind still reeling as you try to figure out and process what exactly had just happened. You watch his retreating figure head towards the bathroom, disappearing for only a moment before resurfacing with a familiar pink wrapper with Hello Kitty’s face scattered across the outside cover, a gift he had received from his brother. He makes his way back over to you, pulling the tabs apart and plucking out the bandaid.

Without prompting, you lift your hand up towards him and watch as he moves your hand towards him with his pinky, wrapping it around your finger.

“There, all patched up. Is that too tight?” He asks, picking up the trash and crumpling it in his fist. You lift your hand up and examine his handiwork, nodding in approval.

“It’s perfect,” you say, feeling your stomach flutter at the self-satisfied smirk that’s found its way onto his face. “I still have to cut the vegetables, though.”

“Hand it over; I’ll do it.” He motions towards the knife.

You pout, making no indication to hand the utensil over to him. “I kind of wanted to cut the vegetables though.”

He raises a brow at you. “Are ya sure? Ya already butchered yer first chance; I don’t want blood all over my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen, huh?”

Osamu shrugs. “I hardly see ya in here, so it might as well be.”

“So are you gonna help me or not?” You raise a brow and choose to ignore his statement as you cross the kitchen to grab your phone, pulling up the recipe to skim through the instructions before placing it back down. “I’m supposed to Juliette these vegetables.”

Osamu stays quiet for a moment. “Do ya mean julienne?”

“Yeah, same thing,” you wave your hand dismissively, walking back over to the cutting board. You pick up the discarded knife, giving it a quick rinse. Upon returning to your original spot at the island, your hands position themselves once again, curling your fingers like Osamu had previously shown you.

“Wait, yer gonna end up hurting yourself again,” he says as he walks up behind you. “How thin are ya trying to cut this?”

“About this much,” you reply, positioning the knife towards the edge of the carrot.

“Okay, first things first,” he says as he wraps his arms around you. Your eyes widen as you feel his chest press against your back, his hands moving to hold yours. “Ya have to cut it in half and get a flat surface.”

He grabs your hand holding the knife and moves it to the middle of the carrot, wrapping his thick and long fingers around the handle, completely swallowing yours. He ensures that his grip is stable before pressing down, the blade making a sharp cut.

“Okay, so now that ya have this, ya said ya want to make them look like noodles, right?”

You can only nod your head, afraid that your voice will crack if you choose to speak. Your head feels fuzzy, your senses overwhelmed by the scent of his musky cologne hitting your nose and the way his strong arms continue to guide you. The heat radiating off his chest envelops you in an oddly comforting embrace and something about it feels very domestic. You try hard to keep your knees from buckling under you, shifting your weight between your feet. You immediately tense when you accidentally press your backside against his hips.

Briefly scanning the island countertop, you see that his phone is on the other side where he’d originally left it when you began cooking and try to ignore the sinful thoughts threatening to infiltrate your mind.

“Makes sense?” Osamu says, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“I-I think so,” you stammer, though you bite your lip and mentally scold yourself for your faltering voice.

“Alright,” he says, taking a step back. You exhale slowly, trying not to think of the loss of warmth. “While ya keep doing that, I’ll prepare the salmon. Where’s the recipe?”

“It’s on my phone.” You nod towards it, setting the knife down. He walks over to the side of the counter you’d left your phone at and brings it over to you. “What’s yer passcode?”

“That’s classified information, sir.” You see his eyes darken for a moment as you pluck your phone from his hand, typing in the digits before placing it in his open palm.

“Never thought you’d be callin’ me that so soon,” he says offhandedly, locating the recipe in your browser. You feel your lips part to say something, but no words come out.

You simply resume cutting the carrot and grab more vegetables, shaking your head to clear your wandering thoughts. You see Osamu grab the salmon from the fridge, pulling it out and getting some seasonings you’d bought earlier.

“Hey, can ya grab a pan from that cabinet there?” Osamu asks as he points to one of the bottom cabinets in front of your legs.

“Sure,” you nod and take a step back, opening the cabinet door and bending over at the hips. You rummage around for a decent-sized pan, feeling Osamu’s eyes on you before you straighten up. He’s quick to avert his eyes as he holds his hand out to you. You place the handle in his open palm and he takes it, setting it on top of the stove.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you prepare your own things, with you seasoning and cooking the vegetables while Osamu prepares the fish, searing it on the pan. As you both finish your portions, you decide to bring out your nicer plates for the occasion.

Opening one of the top cabinets, you stand on your toes to reach for the plates, wondering how they ended up so high to begin with.

“Need help?”

You jump slightly, startled when you feel his body pressed flush against yours with a hand on the dip of your waist as the other reaches above your head to grab two plates, placing them down onto the counter. You turn your head to look at him and realize just how close he is, his face merely centimeters away. His eyes are on your lips as you tongue pokes out to wet them before they flicker upwards to meet your eyes. You look up at him, anticipating his next move with bated breath, and feel his hand that had been holding the plates move to gently hold your jaw. He leans forward just slightly and your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet.

His lips move slowly against yours, though it’s nothing short of passionate. You feel his hand on your waist pull you closer to him and you lean into the warmth. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip and you open your mouth to welcome the warm muscle inside, letting him explore freely.

The both of you seem to run out of air at the same time, pulling away breathlessly. Before you can say anything, he kisses down your jaw to your neck as you crane your head just slightly so he can have better access and you’re not straining your muscles. He nips gently at the skin before dragging his tongue along, finding a particularly tender spot to pay special attention to. A hiss slips past your lips and you’re reminded of how close he is to you when you begin to feel something hardening against your backside.

“If ya wanna stop, ya have to tell me now,” he mutters against your neck as both of his hands settle on your waist, thumbs playing with the hem of your shirt.

“I’d rather not,” you admit rather shamelessly. You can feel Osamu’s lips curve upwards against your skin as his hands give you a slight squeeze.

“If ya say so,” he says before one of his hands reaches between the two of you to untie your apron. “If ya ever need me to stop, let me know.”

You nod your head absentmindedly, slightly dizzy from the reality of what’s happening right now. One of his hands begins to slide upwards from your waist, cupping your clothed breast and giving it a squeeze, while the other slips downwards under your apron and pushes past the waistband of your shorts, hovering over your panties. Suddenly very aware of the wetness between your legs, you move to close them a little.

“That won’t do ya any good,” Osamu mutters against the back of your neck. As if to prove his point, he presses his middle finger against your clothed slit and swipes upward, humming to himself. “Yer practically dripping and I haven’t even started yet.”

A moan slips past your lips and you can only bite your lip in embarrassment at your own shamelessness.

“It’s just the two of us; you don’t have to be quiet,” he says, as if encouraging you to be as loud as you want and disturb your neighbors. When you still refuse to make another noise, he nudges your legs open with his knees, almost forcing you to lean over the counter for support. As if to further prove his point, he pushes your panties aside and slips his middle finger in between your folds, causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion.

“Osamu,” you whimper as you feel him kiss his way towards the back of your ear.

“What is it, baby?” His finger is still and unmoving inside of you as you try to gain any sort of friction, attempting to grind your hips against him. His hand doesn’t move as you feel his tongue trace the outer shell of your ear.

“Stop teasing me,” you practically whimper as you ball your hands into fists on the surface in front of you.

“What do ya want me to do?” He sounds smug and you can almost visualize his teasing smirk behind your closed lids.

“Just fuck me,” you say. You fight the embarrassment heating your cheeks, too aroused to focus on anything else.

“I know we’ve been living together for awhile now, but let’s not forget our manners,” he says, beginning to slide his finger out.

“M’Samu, please fuck me!” It comes out too eagerly, too desperately, but you want him to just do something to you.

“That’s all you needed to say,” he lets out a soft chuckle before he slides his finger back in. You find yourself leaning completely on the countertop so you don’t buckle under him and moan when he slides another finger inside, stretching you.

You were right; his fingers reach so much further than yours ever could.

His calloused fingers continue to thrust in and out of you at a steady pace as his other hand that had been on your breast moves down to slip under your shirt. You bite your lip as you feel him expertly unclip the bra before sliding around to cup the flesh, nudging your loose bra aside. His fingers pinch your hardening nipple and you breathe out his name.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” he practically grunts, “if ya keep soundin’ like that, I won’t be goin’ easy on ya.”

Part of you has half the mind to take him up on the offer while the other is failing to form coherent words and thoughts.

A familiar tension begins to pull at your lower abdomen as you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm. It seems that Osamu’s also aware, quickly slipping his hands out from your dripping cunt.

“Why’d you stop?” You whine as you turn back to look at him. He offers a smirk before removing his hands completely from your pants and lifting his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. The way his half-lidded eyes are locked on yours as he swirls his tongue around makes you clench helplessly around nothing.

“Don’t worry, yer gonna thank me later,” he says, dropping his hand. He begins to lower himself so he’s on his knees on the ground before he pulls your shorts and panties down in one clean tug. The cool air hits your wet heat and you bite your lip at the sensation.

You watch him with anticipation as he leans forward, using both hands to massage your ass a couple times before spreading the cheeks apart. He nudges your feet so you can spread a little wider for him, which you wordlessly oblige, and inhale shakily as he leans forward and licks a fat stripe up your slit.

“Fuck, Osamu,” you hiss as you turn back to look at him. You use one hand to reach around and weave your fingers through his hair, fisting it as he begins to sloppily lap at your cunt.

His tongue dives in and out, the wet squelch echoing around the apartment. You feel your legs tremble as he angles his head to reach a bit further before opting to have his fingers rejoin the fun. Your moans sound nearly pornographic as you attempt to grip at anything, unable to get yourself to properly stand as Osamu wags his head a couple times, swirling his tongue in the process.

A sharp gasp leaves you when you feel his fingers angle themselves and hit a spot you didn’t even know existed, your walls beginning to clench and flutter around him.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan, pushing his head deeper against you. You feel him hum against you as if to encourage you to release onto his face, so you do.

A strangled cry erupts from your throat as you feel every nerve ending spark up and you come undone above him. He lets you grind your hips against him a couple more times before he pulls away, breathing heavily as he stands up. He turns you around by your hips and you see your slick coating his lips and chin.

“Look at this mess,” he taunts you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You don’t say anything and wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to taste yourself. As you do so, he makes quick work to get rid of his sweatpants and pulls away to lift his shirt over his head. You go ahead and do the same with your apron, tossing it onto the island behind him and removing your shirt and bra to leave the both of you stark naked in the kitchen.

You take a brief moment to unabashedly check him out, admiring how toned and built he is. Chewing on your bottom lip, you let your fingers trace along the hardened and defined lines of his abdomen, trailing your fingers down to palm him through his boxers. You see the fabric straining and recognize the heat rising to your cheeks as you feel how hard he is, creating a slightly darkened and damp spot where the head of his cock is located. You glance up at him and meet eyes as you hook your thumbs on his waistband, pulling them down. His length practically springs to life, standing proud and tall before you and your mouth practically waters at the sight.

Wrapping your fingers around the base, you bite your lip as you drag your hand upwards to the tip and collect his beading precum, spreading it around generously with the pad of your thumb before using it as lubricant to continue stroking him.

“Fuck,” he moans softly as you lick your lips, getting ready to get on your knees to return the favor that he so generously had given you moments ago. He grabs your wrist to stop you and you look at him curiously. “As much as I’d love to see you suck my cock, I just want to be inside of that pussy of yours right now.”

The hungry look in his eyes is all you need before you kiss him again, this time much sloppier than the previous ones. He maneuvers you around the kitchen for a moment and before you know it, you’re bent over the island countertop with a leg propped up on the cool surface. You hear Osamu spit into his hand and look back to see him give his thick cock a couple generous strokes before positioning himself with one hand while the other holds your hip.

You feel the bulbous head nudge your lower set of lips apart before slowly easing in, your back arching at the pressure already building inside of you. A soft hiss escapes your throat as you try to take all of him, grateful when he pauses once he’s bottomed out within you. You take a deep breath for a moment and feel your muscles relax slightly as you adjust accordingly.

“Are ya ready?” Osamu’s voice comes out surprisingly soft as he leans over you, placing a kiss between your shoulder blades. You nod quietly before feeling both hands on your hips as he slowly begins to pull out. You realize just how thick he is when you feel empty, though it doesn’t last for long when he slams right back into you. A strangled mewl bubbles from your throat as he begins to thrust in and out of you. You lower yourself onto your elbows on the counter and ball your hands into fists, no longer caring how you sound; you’re too lost in your own wave of pleasure.

As Osamu continues his ministrations, you feel the counter buzz slightly and hazily look around with half a mind to simply ignore it. You see Osamu’s phone shaking across the surface next to your discarded apron, the screen lit up with an unfamiliar name.

“’Samu, your phone,” you say between moans, “your phone is ringing.”

His hips slow, though his thrusts continue to hit deep inside of you. He doesn’t have to reach far to grab it and glances at the screen.

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath. “Stay still for me, will ya?”

You halfheartedly nod your head, though you can’t help but whine at the loss of friction as he stills inside of you.

“Hello?” His voice is even as he answers quickly. “This is Osamu, yes.”

It’s hard to ignore the slight frustration bubbling in your chest as he uses one hand to keep your hips still while the other holds his phone. He continues to speak formally, so you assume it’s probably someone important or has something to do with work. You know better than to tease him in the event that this call is actually important, but you can’t resist the urge to just roll your hips a little.

There’s a slight hitch in Osamu’s voice before he clears his throat, though it sounds more like a warning to you than anything. However, that doesn’t stop you as you grow more bold, deciding to create your own rhythm of shallow thrusts. His grip on your hip tightens, though it’s not enough to hurt you just yet.

“Something just came up, so I’m gonna have to call ya back,” you hear Osamu say, his voice becoming more strained as each second ticks by. When he finally hangs up, the phone smacks onto the table, startling you to a halt.

“Sorry, I couldn’t w-”

“Ya think yer so cute, dontcha? I told ya to stay still.” His voice is dangerously low as he hunches over, practically growling in your ear. You whimper softly in response, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. You’re not sure if you should be as turned on as you are right now, feeling your walls clench around him.

He stands upright and reaches around to grab one of your arms, practically yanking you back so you’re also standing up. His other hand reaches around to grab your other arm, pinning your wrists behind your back.

“If yer gonna act like a slut, I’m gonna fuck ya like one,” he snarls lowly and you resist the urge to moan. He manages to reach for your apron and rolls it up, looping it around your elbows.

As one hand holds your newly bound arms behind your back, the other holds your hips before he begins to pull out of you. You feel his whole length leave you empty with the exception of the tip and you’re about to complain again when you feel him slam back in roughly.

“Is this what ya thought of when ya were touchin’ yerself?”

You hardly contain the cry of mixed pain and pleasure as your back arches, his hips snapping against yours at a relentless pace. You can barely process his words, though you know the embarrassment will hit you later; you simply can’t form coherent enough thoughts to care. The hand that was on your hip leaves but only momentarily before his palm claps against your ass. You yelp in surprise as he releases your arms.

“What, did ya never get spanked as a kid?” Osamu taunts as he rubs the reddening skin. You lean back over, supporting yourself on your elbows. His comment barely processes in your head as he does it again.

Coherent words fail to form as you feel your legs begin to tremble. You’re practically running towards another orgasm and you can tell Osamu is too, based on his unstable rhythm and sloppier movements. You feel one of his hands reach around you to play with your nipples while you let your own hand rub your clit, the sensations overwhelming you in a crashing wave of pure bliss.

As your walls tighten and flutter, Osamu pulls out and fists his cock a couple times before you feel hot ropes of cum paint your back and ass, a guttural groan leaving him.

“Holy fuck,” he pants once he recovers from his orgasm. You’re still shaking, bent over the island, breathing heavily.

A dull ringing can be heard in your ears from the intensity of your climax, but you faintly hear the sink running for a moment. Not long after, you feel a warm and damp towel wipe across the mess on your backside and Osamu’s gentle arm pulls you up.

“Hey, was I too rough on ya?” His voice is soft and you shake your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he hands you your clothes from the ground. “Do ya wanna eat now and shower later?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” you sigh as your head begins to clear up. You look over to your forgotten food, your mouth curving downwards into a frown. “Wait, did you not turn off the stove?”

“I was a little preoccupied.”

[bay-did-nothing-wrong]

Tell All (Donatello x Reader)

Synopsis: Don and the Reader had been hiding their relationship from his family but they decide its finally time to come clean.

Genre: Fluff mostly, some crack, literally one sex pun

Word count: 1946

Soft.

So soft.

Wasn't his skin supposed to be rougher all together? How were his lips so soft and smooth then? Just another mystery.

Your mouths split with a tiny wet sound, but neither of you was in a rush to go anywhere.

But you should have been.

"Dinner's ready!" came Mikey's energetic shout from somewhere withing the lair. Probably the kitchen.

A soft longing sigh left your lips, and you felt a warm current of air hit your face - Don felt the same.

"We should go." you state, convincing yourself as much as him.

"Do we have to?" he whined breathlessly.

Yes, yes, you did. And he knew that. You both did. Otherwise his brothers and his very observant father will notice you're acting suspicious. They'll probably figure out he wasn't just helping you study for that AP Statistics exam. That is, if they hadn't already.

Your hands slid down his shoulders in an attempt to separate you two but instead they fell onto the top of his plastron, thumbs running softly over the last uncovered skin there, where you knew he was sensitive.

"Hmmm..." it came out as a low growl and it surrounded you on all sides. "You're not helping."

"Am I ever?"

"DONNIE! (Y/N)! DINNER!" at least Mikey stuck to the strict "No entering during study-sessions" rules. That's good to know that he can be intimidated into compliance. Or blackmailed... Point is, it worked.

Donnie's head falls in defeat, forehead leaning on yours for support.

So glad he took those goggles off. You can see more of him this way.

He sighed again, defeated - he was too smart to not figure out that at some point your behavior will raise suspicion. His head lifted back, and turned to the door.

"Coming!"

And your cheeky ass giggled at that.

"Oh, Donnie." you teased, "I haven't even started."

"Pfft. " chuckle, and a snort.

He really did like your dirty puns.

The man took your hand into his cool giant one, somehow providing comfort like no other, as he pulled you to the lab entrance. But once at the door you had to split. It's part of the arrangement.

His family shouldn't know about you.

You two decided at the early stage of your budding romance that keeping the whole thing on the down-low for a while was the smartest choice. It would prevent his brother's jealousy, it won't incite any fights, it won't change their relationship with you and you'll get to feel things out at your own pace - no pressure or prying eyes.

Just you.

But there was a list of downsides too. For one, neither of you was a great actor, Don was even shit at lying, so you'd had to take extra steps to remain as friendly-looking as possible. Then there was the trying-to-set-you-up-with-Vern thing that April was doing and every time the topic came up you could act regular-disgusted but not in-a-happy-relationship disgusted, and so would your favourite turtle. And then there was the hiding, coveting each other in the lab or in small stolen moments in the lair, and the lying about going topside to do recon or install something somewhere, the covering up - no, of course Donnie wasn't with you at your place, he must have gone somewhere else.

You were quite honestly sick of it. You were ready to tell his brothers. You were ready to tell the world.

"We should tell them." his voice was once again low, quiet as if to preserve the last few moments of the secret to yourselves.

Once again you were entirely in sync despite being vastly different.

He was a genius, you, decidedly, weren't.

He was really into sports, you weren't.

He was a 6'8 ninja turtle raised underground by a rat dad, and you obviously were not.

And yet somehow, you clicked.

"I agree."

At that point you knew that your approval would kick into gear the most destructive process in Donnie's mind - overthinking.

Your hand immediately darted out and grabbed one of his pulling it up to your lips and kissing the knuckles in reassurance.

"We'll figure it out."

But still, you had to split. Even if you did plan to tell them, there would be a time and a place for that.

"What took you so long? The lasagna got cold." Mikey was positively outraged - as much as he could be - by your lack of interest in his usually excellent cooking.

"Sorry, Mikey." you butted in, trying to save the day, "There's just something about Inferential Statistical Analysis that I can't wrap my head around." Bullshit, you knew exactly what it was and how it worked - it's part of the basics but he didn't need to know that.

"Still smells great though!" Don sounds cheerful enough even though you'd just agreed to break the fragile peace in your relationship just a minute prior. He was getting really good at the lying part. Too bad it won't be needed for much longer.

Dinner was as uneventful as it can be around five mutant ninjas. Master Splinter asked about your day, you told him about the nearing finals season and he offered some comforting words after which the conversation bounced around the rest of the family in a natural progression.

Once you were full, and once all of Mikey's delicious food had been virtually inhaled by the four giant men around you, you got up to get the dishes to the kitchen and help clean up. It was only fair, after all.

Apparently it was Ralph's turn to wash dishes and there was no wiggling out of that because Splinter said so. Well, at least you can dry them.

And dry them you did, meanwhile casual conversation about whatever kept flowing and you figured you won't be able to go back to the lab and do some more 'Statistics'.

You were just drying and putting away the last plate when a thiqq arm stretched over your head to reach a cupboard you couldn't even get to in your dreams.

Your head whipped back, eyes landing straight on some hard looking chest plates under a pair of suspenders. And then you looked up and saw Donatello, the cheeky shit, with a pop tart in his mouth and a shit-eating grin around it.

"Oops, sorry, (Y/N), didn't see you there."

Oh, I'll give you Oops, didn't see me, my ass. You'll see.

He was being unusually open about his closeness to you and that was less then an hour after you'd decided to come clean.

He was ready then.

"I was planning on checking out the meatpacking District tomorrow." Leo was going on about that idea he had to check out some building or another, Mikey was wiping down the table, and Raph was finishing up the dishes, and for once Don was just there chilling.

His treat was gone, meaning he ate it all, he seemed relaxed, his shoulders loose and shell leaning on the wall.

No time like the present.

"You guys, I'm gonna head out. I've got work tomorrow and after that I've got a study group to attend so, I should head to bed."

"You need us to walk you home?" Leo asked more out of courtesy, he knew you lived close and would usually decline.

"No, no, that's okay." you replied, looking for your bag and jacket where you'd left them near the kitchen table.

"Aaaw, you're leaving already? Well, at least you ate." Mikey quickly swept you into a hug goodbye and turned back to sorting his ingredients in the cupboards.

"Thanks to you, Mikey Steward." to which he giggled in response.

"See you tomorrow, shorty." Raph waved as he turned to get a beer from the fridge.

"Stay safe out there, okay?" Leo always the guardian, warned you for the hundredth time, again just out of courtesy.

And then you walked to where Don was leaning on the wall, took his chin in your hand and pulled him down.

Oh, shit, am I actually gonna do this!?

Your lips met, your heart pounded, the room became super hot and that wasn't just because of the brilliant piece of man-candy in your hands. You could feel their eyes but then again that was the whole point.

A loud dramatic intake of air was heard, a drop of something metallic and then silence.

Your face pulled away from him, eyes opening slightly to look at him, as your weight fell back onto your heels from standing on your tiptoes. His face had that same dazed, satisfied-yet-hungry look that he usually had whenever you'd had to break apart.

He tasted so sweet, you just had to lick your lips at the memory.

"I'll see you tomorrow." you whispered, that was all you could force out in that moment.

"See you tomorrow." his voice was as soft as yours even though his brothers could probably hear.

You fully pulled away from your man, now certain that there'd be no secrets between you and the ninja clan.

You were not an actor, you quickly got embarrassed with your performance, however brilliant it may have been, and speedily scammed to pick up your belongings and jogged outta there.

You turned one last time, because something in you said you should and what you saw was truly a sight.

All three of Don's bothers with their mouths hanging open and Splinter peeking out of the door to the dojo with his eyes like saucers and then there's Donnie - the image of peace, hands in his pockets, a soft smile on his lips, now shiny from your lip gloss, and looking you straight in the eye as you retreated.

"Bye." you shout to no one in particular and scramble for the exit.

-_-_-_-_-

Phone - charging

Alarm - set

Pajamas - on

What's missing then?

Ding!

Your phone notified you that someone was requesting your attention and you were more than happy to find out it was your man.

'Hey, Laika' Oh lord it so got you giggling like a schoolgirl when he called you that.

'Hey, Tyson' and then he told you that he loved to be compared with the biggest name in astrophysics today.

'How did it go?' you felt super bad for bailing on him but at the same time there was this relief that came with the cat being out of the bag.

'Surprisingly well. No one was mad that we kept it a secret.' well, that's good. You won't have to jeopardize your relationship with the boys. 'Dad still wants to talk to you tho'

Ah, well, that's to be expected. Even though Donnie is an adult, the were still a very tightly knit family unit so, you supposed that something like that would be a pretty big deal.

'That's fine, I'd do whatever'

'I wish I could kiss you rn'

It honestly shocked you how chill about it he was. Probably because he wasn't being grilled for information anymore, neither of you would have to lie anymore, and because he could now tell Vern to fuck right off, with no worry about how it would look.

You were so looking forward to being solely and entirely his.

'Tomorrow we start anew'

He had a point, things would change. But hopefully not between you.

'Can't wait to meet you for the first time again lol' you didn't know if you were being funny or just cheesy but it felt right.

Despite your smile, your eyes started drooping, your breaths slowing and you felt the exhaustion of the day slowly hug you like a blanket.

'Goodnight'

'Goodnight, (Y/N)'

[felswritingfire]

April Brain Rot #10

Prompts:

36. Hatred

14. "I'm screwed."

18. “I swear, if anyone lays a hand on you, I’ll cut their arm off.”

Floyd Leech x Reader

Summery: Sometimes working customer service sucks ass- especially when creeps keep catcalling you and no one's saying anything. Good thing you have your boyfriend to come in and beat the shit out of people just in the nick of time.

TW: Incel behavior; Creeps; Cat Calling; Uncomfortable Situations; Blood; Violence; Fist Fighting; Pinning Down (Not in a good way)

Word Count: 1,152

A note from Fel: SO, TO START OFF- THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE????? Y'ALL ARE SO DAMN SWEET, THANK YOU!!!!! But y'all are gonna turn me into a full blow slut if you keep complimenting me. Also! For those who sent in requests- rest assured they are saftly sitting in my ask box, I'm just gonna save them for after April Brain Rot so I can make sure that I have everything in order lmao. (And that person who requested more Mafia Au??? I love you- much kisses~). ALSO SINCE I WANT TO GUSH ABOUT MY GF TOO- she liked this one and I'm happy she did, I got worried that everything felt rushed, so hopefully, y'all think it's up to par too! Sorry for rambling: enjoy!

Occasionally you would work at the Mostro Lounge to make some extra cash and occasionally you would get one of… the less unsavory customers who would bother you. But, usually, your boyfriend was there to run them off.

Unfortunately, at this point in time, Floyd was out with Jade and Azul (surprisingly) hunting down a customer to give them a “nice squeeze” (as Floyd likes to put it). So, you were on your own with this guy (and his cronies, ugh).

You breathe a sigh through your nose, feeling your blood boiling as your grip on your writing pad turns knuckle white as he makes another wolf call at you. The high pitched whistle cutting through the order of the customer that you were trying to get for the third time. “Hey, baby, why don’t you come back over here and talk to some real men?” This one’s voice is loud and nauseating and you have a sudden urge to throw the note pad at him and his cackling friends.

The Pomfiore student in front of you frowns and you’re almost afraid that they're going to get out of their seat and you were going to have to break up a fight. He sighs through his nose, repeating his order and you lean closer to him and tell him you’ll give him a discount. He smiles at you.

“Damn, look at that ass!” Another one yells, an awful voice crack breaking into his words. Despite it, he high fives the others like he had just said the best thing in the history of Twisted Wonderland.

You suck in another breath, shutting your eyes in barely contained fury.

“I’ll be back with your order, sir.”

He nods. “Hang in there.”

You smile at him, an inkling of annoyance straining at the back of your mind. I wouldn’t have to hang in there if one of you would do something. Or I could kill people.

Though… you glance at the group as you pass the order to the cooks in the kitchen: the three boys who were giggling amongst each other weren’t much to look at (thin, small- you could take them out if you really needed to thanks to getting out of Floyd’s hold so many times). The one that was worrying you was the one that was eyeing you like a piece of meat. The guy was big, almost as broad chested as the twins and just shy of being as tall as them; sharp toothed and slit pupils. You were almost inclined to believe that he stole that uniform from Diasomnia if his ears weren’t pointed.

Malleus would never stand for how they were acting.

I’ll have to talk to him. You huff, balancing the new tray of food on your shoulder and hand, making your way to the table that seats three Heartslabyul students, they eyed the rowdy group nervously and urged you to go around the side furthest from him. Which wasn’t very far, it was a booth right next to theirs. They take their order gratefully.

“Hey, what about us, pretty bird?” The guy finally called out to you, his voice ridiculously deep.

You want to hurl.

You plaster on the best smile you could despite the fury growing at the bottom of your gut and turn your attention to their booth. “Do you need something, sir?”

“Yeah.” He says, leaning on his elbows as he loosely holds the menu between his pointer finger and thumb. “A date. Me. You. This Saturday.”

This mother-

“I’m sorry, sir. That isn’t on the menu.”

“No one says no to me.”

His eyebrows raised before one of the guys piped up. “Do you not have any taste? Kylan’s one of the top students in Daisomnia- anyone would want to go on a date with him-”

“Well, then, he should go and find that ‘anyone’.” You're proud of the fact that you kept your smile on your face while addressing them. Even prouder of the gawking faces of the customers. What you didn’t account for was the darkening look on Kylan’s face as his blue eyes seemed to glow in a white rage.

“Well, I just did.”

God, Azul was going to have your head. Or maybe not. He had a soft spot for you. And this guy was an ass.

His hand shot out to wrap around your arm (a few cries from the other tables breaking through the adrenaline rush in your mind), yanking you to him until your noses almost brushed and you could smell the overpowering scent of his cologne. “No one-” the grip tightened and you winced- “says no to me.”

“L…” You gulped, trying to will your voice from wavering as you continue. “Let me go.”

“No one-”

“I don’t care if no one says no to you!” You snap, trying to tug your arm away from him despite his grip steadily growing tighter. “I said no! I have a boyfriend already who’s ten times better than you can ever hope to be- so let me fucking go!”

You shriek as your world whirls before your back makes contact with the table. Dishes breaking underneath your spine and one thought shines through as hands dart to hold you down and a chorus of yells and frantic movements sound from around you: I’m screwed.

And suddenly the Daisomnia student is yanked off of you and everything swells to a whole new kind of chaos as cheers blurred together with the sound of fists hitting skin rings out. You sit up (the three other boys having ran off) and look down to see Floyd throttling the fae- his fist a blur as he keeps colliding with his face. Kylan having no time to move aside from twitch at the sheer impacts of the hits.

More and more red specks flew into the air with every hit.

Jade frantically began to claw at Floyd’s clothes to pull him off of the fae, Azul rushing to help. They finally got him off of the barely moving student; he still strained against them to jump back on him until Azul whispered something in his ear and in that moment his eyes were on your dazed form.

Jade and Azul let him go and he rushed over to you. His hands immediately touch your face, his eyes round as he looks over you. He pulls you into a hug, shivering and mumbling mildly concerning things: “I’ll kill him.” and “I swear, if anyone lays a hand on you, I’ll cut their arm off.”

“Floyd-” you whisper- “Floyd. I’m ok.” You squeeze him back as hard you can.

He suddenly bursts out laughing, squeezing you back. “Your squeezes are so soft, Angelfish!”

You sigh into his shoulder, basking in his presence, blocking out the angry yells of Azul as he scolds and threatens the group behind you.

You’re happy that Floyd was back.

<The Next Chosen Character>

Thank you for reading!

[ohheyitsokay]

Okay so I finally came up with a Soulmate AU request to celebrate your (very well-deserved) milestone! How about a soulmark au with poly frontier? I’m really curious to hear your thoughts on how everyone would handle having the same mark as four other people! (Aside from Will and Benny of course - so maybe everyone else has two marks while they each have one??) - Ghost

ghost, my first fandom friend, by biggest encourager of self-indulgent chaos... I sincerely hope you enjoy

warnings: this takes place "in" my poly frontier au, which means it's 18+.

and by in, I mean this is an au to my au, so just... yeah. you know what's happening.

<<

soulmate requests / follower celebration

>>

They knew, deep down that they were soulmates before the marks came in solid.

Even when there was just the faintest echo of shading, almost a bruise of a moment, they already knew.

Because the four of them, and Tom, had willing gone to hell and back with each other. They had felt the lifeblood bleed out of each other, and given their very breath to try to make up for it, sacrificed... everything, for each other. Not for their country, like the thought, and it wasn't even for the greater good that they survived - it was the men who's eyes found each other's across the fire that fortified their souls. And they'd been pushed and pulled and stretched together, and when only four remained, thoroughly broken and then healing together, they knew.

Months into therapy, each on their own, and a lifetime into tired phonecalls with quiet apologies, the tattoos solidified.

It was Santi who organized the dinner

"Can... can I ask you guys something?"

"A little late for that, don't you think?" Will’s words were without bite, and he sipped his drink carefully.

"Fuck off," he said begrudgingly, endearingly. "Your guy's... came in, too?" That part was false confidance, a thin veil over wild fear.

"Yep," Frankie's tone was matter-of-fact, satisfied. Glances and nods, they all... processed it. Benny swallowed the last of his drink and Frankie's knuckles ran over his thighs. Santi inhaled deeply before letting the breathe out slowly, trying to ignore the slight tremble of his hands.

It was messy, the soulmate talk. They'd been having it all their lives - the intricacies that even the world's most powerful governments still couldn't untangle. And Frankie and Santi each had two.

Will dragged his thumb through the condensation on his glass, looking involuntarily at his brother.

"I need to tell you guys something." Their heads shot up to look at him, and Benny almost laughed.

"There's someone else."

They were looking at him in blank shock, an appropriate reaction.

"Fuck."

"You know this... how, exactly?"

"Childhood friend. She got two, in college. Matches Will and me, the same as you guys. " Ben sounded almost giddy, his words making the chaos real.

"Mom hated it - was sure one of us was going to die or get our heart broken. But then we saw your guy's and -"

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you say anything before now?" Frankie was mad. It was too much - it felt unreal.

"She said she didn't want to choose either brother, said it didn't feel right."

"Now we know why, I guess." Benny's hand ran across Frankie's shoulder, his attempt to make light of it all had been put aside.

"She?"

"Yeah."

Pope dragged his hand along his jaw, drink forgotten. There was a familiar glint in his eye, and Will knew he felt it too - like it or not, it felt right. Frankie would take longer to convince - he looked like he wanted to crack his head open and cook whatever was inside.

"You guys should meet her."

Catfish made a strangled noise, and Will couldn't help but kiss his temple.

"Whenever you're ready."

-

It took weeks.

Frankie went silent for ten days, ignoring calls and texts, before Will came home and found him on his couch.

They talked for awhile and it was nice, different than therapy. Not about being Delta, not about Columbia or cocaine, they talked about... you. About how you'd been Will's first love, since he was a pretend knight in shining armor, and you'd asked to be the dragon. About how he'd seen that same look in Benny's eyes when you'd been the only one to turn up at one of his high school shows. Their long talks, trying to figure out how to move on from their soulmate, how impossible it felt until they all met on the force. About how scary it was, for all these friendships to become something so... unknown.

And over chili, Frankie sighed, and agreed to meet you. Because of Will, he was already in love with you more than he'd admit even to himself.

-

They invited you over to Santi's for dinner, not wanting to cause a scene at a restaurant.

Benny hugged you the moment you walked in, crushing your nerves and your ribcage at the same time. Your hand cradled his cheek, a reassuring touch.

Then Will gently pulled you into his arms, harboring you against his chest. He asked questions into your hair, and you grabbed fistfulls of his shirt before you nodded.

The one they introduced as Frankie - Catfish - didn't touch you but he might as well have. He stepping into your space, looking right into your eyes, standing over you like he was as tall as Ben. His words were kind, and careful. His tattoos matched yours.

The other - Santi, Pope - dropped the package of farmer's market veggies he'd been holding onto the ground. Then he shook your hand, while the others shot him looks like he'd grown an extra head. You wondered if Will had texted you the wrong names - he didn't seem excited to meet you like they'd said. If anything, he seemed caught off-guard, like there was a confidance you had taken away. But his tattoos matched yours.

Your nerves returned.

Food helped, polite conversations melting into teasing stories and giddy laughter. They ate a lot, and you smiled when they shared bites with each other. Under the table Benny’s hand found yours, and squeezed before he got distracted. Above, Will touched your cheek and for the first time, you let yourself lean into his warmth.

And when you began to clean the dishes, something shifted. Frankie's hands ran over yours in the soapy water, and he seemed startled, but he shifter closer to you, both of you flushing as you sought the touch again.

Moments later you stumbled upon Santi looking at the stars when you took out the trash. It was flattering, that such a man would be nervous because of you. Standing on your toes, you kissed his cheek, and he pulled you into his arms, grab so tight you though you understood his fears. His palm held your head against his neck,, and you wrapped your arms around his broad ribcage. Will found you like that, and leaned against the doorframe, watching.

You felt like you were free falling, and you could tell they felt it too. It was a lot to take in, but no one seemed like they wanted the night to end. Trading stories and sharing glances, it dragged on and on, until Francisco caught you yawning, and coaxed the evening to a close.

By the time he succeeded, you knew, and so did they. Marks be damned - this was it.

-

Your first individual date was with Benny. It wasn't as easy as either of you expected - his own anxiety about the situation finally catching up to his excitement. He was a good friend, always had been, always would be, and you knew him like the back of your hand. Dating had been off-limits for so long.... it was going to take time to rewrite.

"I just... I love you. I love you all so much." Your Ben was always honest. It would've felt like a crazy thing to say, on a first date, but everything about this wasn't traditional.

"I love you too, Ben, you know I do." Your voice was quiet, trying to convey how strange this was for you, too, and he let out a long, slow breath. After awhile, air full of thoughtful silence, his shoulders relaxed and he smiled, soft and happy.

His rough hands found yours again, and this time, he didn't let go until he had to.

-

When you met Frankie for lunch, you felt suddenly shy. His dark eyes felt like they could see right into your heart, and you fidgeted, hoping he liked whatever he saw.

He talked like he knew you, and you felt like he did, a strange comfort in the chaos of your worlds. When your wrist bumped your glass he caught both, hand lingering on your skin as he ducked his head and pulled his eyes away.

Words came easier, then, and more and more, until suddenly you felt like maybe fate know what it was doing.

Frankie was thoughtful - so thoughtful and careful and kind, you watched him in awe, tempted to hug him without abandon. And he talked with passion, about your boys, how they saved him time and time again, and how he took care of them, when you couldn't.

You realized, as you kissed his cheek goodbye, that he was the one who helped change Benny's tire, so he could make it to your birthday party a few years ago. Footsteps already on the way down the street, your heart tugged, begging you to take one last look at his fluffy curls and steady eyes. When you turned back, he was watching you, hands in his pockets, and you wondered as you waved if it was too soon to say you were head over heels for Francisco Morales.

-

Dinner with Santi felt the most like a first date, of all of them. He was quick to flirt, but his eyes held yours, and his smile was perfectly crooked, and you knew he meant every word.

He told you information, rather than stories, rambling excitedly, one train of thought stringing into the next. When he realized his tangents, he flushed, wringing his napkin as he apologized.

"Don't," you shushed him, "Tell me more, please."

He was silent for a moment, pausing to drink you in, heart racing in spite of himself. And then he resumed, and you thought maybe you got it.

For years, he'd had loves all around him, but... you were his first opportunity to be romantic in a dramatic way, as intense as his heart had ached for, silently. It was lovely, watching him settle into his skin, and when he kissed your temple that night, it was a thank you, and a promise.

Despite all logic, the free falling and stumbling steps towards whatever came next, he made you feel safe.

-

It was a familiar grassy hill, you met Will on, one you'd climb to when you were teens who needed to talk.

He sat close - closer than he ever had - but enough away that you could move, if you wanted to. It was strange, talking about the others with him, seeing the relief in his eyes as your honesty poured out. Moments later, he matched it, and you saw that golden glow as he smiled.

"I'm glad, really I am."

You waited.

"But..." gently, you bumped into him and he looked at you, blue eyes questioning. "I know you, Will."

His smile grew.

"Could I... I want to kiss you." It wasn't really a question - and he held himself back, watching for your response. There was no need to add I want to kiss you because I've been waiting to, aching to. Since we were kids - let me kiss you first. Please. Both lf you knew what he meant.

You weren't sure who leaned in first, but his hands, grabbed at your cheeks, fingertips in your hair, and his lips were warm and soft.

It, all of it, felt like home.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge @horton-hears-a-honk

[youraverageauthor]

Repeat

Going to school ain't the best of the things that I can aim for yet it's mandatory on my list. I always despised it and no matter how hard I tried I always failed, I never understood why. Was I not trying enough? Whatever the reason might be, the option of giving up didn't exist. My parents would kill me if I ever stopped trying and I couldn't die yet I had a long list to fulfill but first came studies. I almost lost my life the other day; thank god I noticed the truck in time. I had to be more careful from now on.

Waiting for the bus once again, just the same old day, I wish it'd come. I've been waiting twenty minutes. I barely managed to leave the bed this morning, I had the worst program for today too.. Just as I started dozing off, the bus came by, thankfully I managed to get it. I put on my headphones, ignoring my surroundings and started blasting music. The day was hard to pass, it felt as if the time had frozen and on top of that the teacher made us do a quiz. I had studied the things that were on the quiz!

Before we could leave the professor announced the results. I was eagerly waiting for mine, I knew it'd finally be a good grade! I got 5/20, how? That's such a devastating result. . The professor couldn't even let me see my mistakes. The bell finally rang and I fast-paced to the bus station, I couldn't afford something worse happening today. The bus arrived and as I was walking in someone tapped my shoulder, I turned around to look who it was but no one was there, strange. .

After arriving home I immediately started studying. After completing my homework I went to eat yesterday's leftovers 'Annoying'. Hm, who said that? I was home alone. I decided to shrug it off, nothing good could happen by stressing out about some little things. I questioned once again why I always failed even though I was such a hardworking student, I guess I'm not trying enough. . It's just unfair, why do I always fail? I could feel the tears spilling on my notes. I wiped them away, it didn't matter, crying wouldn't solve this.

As I finished doing extra exercises I cracked my knuckles. I'm glad that I'm finally done, I even gave kudos to myself for finishing faster than yesterday. Am I hungry? Positive. I ignored the fact that I had an exam soon, food was the first priority. I went to the kitchen and cooked an omelet. I sat down in the living room and watched the news to have something distract me while I ate. The television suddenly started to glitch and a reporter was talking about how it was the end of the world. I rubbed my eyes and it turned back to normal. Were my eyes fooling me? As I was trying to understand if what I just saw was real or not I remembered about the exam. There's no way it was real, my brain was playing tricks on me. 

I decided to write down the event either way because it could appear useful in the future. I then started to revise for the exam, a couple of hours had passed before I was finally done. I could feel my eyelids getting heavy so I brushed my teeth before heading to bed.

Going to school was exhausting, the day barely started and I wanted to go back home already. As I headed inside I ignored the people which was relatively easy and I sat on a bench. I felt as if something was wrong though. . Was it the exam? I was ready for it. 

While I was minding my own business, a classmate of mine, Evelyn greeted me "Hi Mary, how're you doing?" Someone started a small talk with me? That's so sweet. "Honestly I could be better but I guess I'm good. How's your day?" I asked her. "Ya know, the usual stuff." she responded, I in fact didn't know the usual stuff. Before I could ask her something else I noticed something strange, she started to melt. Oh god her skin was oozing to the floor, her flesh was visible! Was I the only one who could see that?! "Please help. ." She muttered while grasping my arm.

I didn't know what to do, is this a nightmare?! "How, how am I supposed to help you?" I asked, by then her face had fallen off. I began to panic, I looked around to see if anyone could help Evelyn but everyone had the same issue. It made my stomach drop. I looked at Evelyn's hand, it was now just bones and it hurt. "Please help me. ." she said before grabbing my hand, I flinched, I could feel my flesh being torn. I couldn't even push her away, it was about time and all that remained from her were just her bones. I couldn't hold my tears back. A loud sound was heard throughout the place. A warning, an alarm for this situation? 

I woke up, that was one heavy sleep. What did I dream of? It seemed like a long dream, I hate forgetting them. After eating something for breakfast I went to school. There, a student from the same school started a small conversation with me. I didn't remember his name nor did I wanna seem rude for not knowing so I referred to him as Blondie. This was a good day starter! As we were discussing the lessons we hate he asked me about a wound on my arm. I looked at my arm and there was a visible injury. The strange thing is that I didn't get hit by something to cause such a wound. "I'm not sure, it's not the first time something like this happens, it frequently happens when I'm sleeping." I stated.

 We continued talking until the bell rang and we parted ways. It was the exam day today and I knew everything. I was more than ready and when I received the copy of the test I started writing. I knew everything, I continued to write down the answers to the questions until I was done. The professor looked kinda surprised. Once I finished, everything that I had studied was deleted from my memory. That was very weird. . At Least I was done! I gave the professor my sheet of paper before leaving school.

I ran to the bus station and the bus was about to pass by, I was lucky! Just as the bus stopped it disappeared.  Do I want to go home so badly that I am hallucinating? Some passers-by threw strange looks at me, they must think that I'm crazy. I went to sit down on a bench and then the blond boy came. "Hello again, how'd the exam go?" he asked me. I don't remember telling him that I had an exam, maybe a friend of his is in the same class with me. "It was surprisingly good, it was pretty easy. How was your day?" I asked to continue the conversation. "It was fine." He responded. "Which class are you at?" I questioned, before he could reply the bus came . I went inside and that's when the conversation ended. Could I consider him a friend? It'd be good.

After I arrived home, I ate dinner, it was quite nice. I put the dishes in the dishwasher and focused on my homework. It was simpler than usual, maybe I finally became smarter! I finished earlier than usual so I decided to reward myself. I grabbed a bag of popcorn from the cabinet and put on a good series to watch. I really loved this show. Suddenly the phone started ringing, the moment I went to pick it up the power fell out, yet the phone kept ringing. This situation felt off, it gave off creepy vibes too. I answered the phone "Hello, who is it?" I asked, no one had my phone number. . "Wake up" a robotic-like voice said that in repeat until I closed the call. This just felt like a plot for a horror movie. . I hated pranks like these, I knew it was a prank because no one had my number. Once I closed the call the power returned.

I decided to go to bed, I didn't understand how fast the time passed by. . After a while I fell asleep. I woke up, I felt as if I just blinked and the night went by… I went to brush my teeth, after that I went to put on my uniform. As I stepped inside my room I noticed myself, I was still asleep? What the hell; was I dead?! I tried to wake myself up but it wasn't working.  An eerie sound could be heard so I decided to investigate. I looked outside the window and what I saw was horrifying. The world looked as if a war happened, a bizarre creature was standing out there, collecting dead bodies. . I couldn't describe how it looked but I'm certain that I've seen it before.

It was changing the world to its original state, one of the bodies that were collected was Blondie's. He died..? This felt very familiar but I just couldn't remember. Wait.. it has happened before. . the dreams that I kept forgetting.. it has truly happened, they weren't just dreams. I remember them now, that's why I had that wound on my arm, it was because of Evelyn. Why was I alive though? I'm pretty sure I died in some of them. That must be the reason why my life is so difficult! As if it sensed me the creature looked over my window, I realized how dark the sky was when I saw it staring at me. Next thing I remember is waking up, that was terrifying.

I dressed up, I had to go to school, I was possibly being watched. I had to act normal, how was I supposed to act as if I witnessed none of that stuff? One of the only people that I talked with was now dead. I arrived at school, it was a bit early so I started writing down my theories in my diary. "Good Morning Mary" Blondie said before I could open my diary. Wait, Blondie? Silence filled the air while I was trying to realize how he was alive. I was about to question him, since I saw him dead but what if people come back? What if that monster brings them back and removes their memories? "Are you okay Mary?" he questioned. "Yeah I'm fine.. my day just didn't start off well."

I didn't know if I should tell him about everything that happened. I needed someone to help me, didn't I? That's what people usually do.. If something were to happen to me someone else would know which could help spread the message. I took out a notebook of mine because it'd be better to write it down rather than tell him. I began to write everything that I knew and my theories and then I asked if he wanted to see some drawings of mine. He agreed and sat next to me. He started reading it and kept quiet. "Wow, how did you find out?" he asked "Well you could say that life inspired me to find this." I stated. When I told him that I'd spread the message to the world he smiled, the smile was almost angelic . .

The bell rang, Blond boy went inside the school and I was stuck in a dilemma. I wasn't sure if I should leave school but staring at it made me feel like staying was the wrong option so I began to run to the bus station. I heard a horn, I looked to my left and I noticed a truck, god I could have died if I didn't run faster. I was alive and I needed to warn the people. The only way that I could think of was social media. I managed to get on the bus and after I got out I immediately ran to my home. I opened my laptop and I began to write a warning about what lurks within this world. Once I hit send the message got deleted, I tried more websites, other social media but nothing worked. Of course it wouldn't, if it were that easy then someone else would have done it! I took my diary out of my bag and then I heard the doorbell ring. I locked the door, I couldn't afford anyone to come inside.

 I opened my diary and there I found warnings addressed to me. Written in the diary was a note about how I shouldn't trust the blondie, he was the one behind all of this, he was the mastermind. I now realized why he kept talking to me, he didn't want me to see these notes. Blondie barged in the house, I was dumbfounded. "You finally read it, you made me wonder how long it'd take you" he said. I tried to shut the door but he held it open. "I, I can stop you!" I stated, I was filled with fear, I had no idea what to do. He didn't respond, he was just smiling, that uncanny smile was so petrifying. "You aren't a chosen one, you're not meant to save the world. You are just a student, how can you save the world? The fun is over, you stepped right into the trap like a foolish little mouse." he said with a grin. I tried to attack him with my diary but he just caught it and he burnt it to crisp, nothing was left, just ash. . "Think of this world as your personalized hell. You cannot escape this place nor save it." I was awestruck, he looked like the devil with that smile. He wasn't the angel he looked like nor a student from my school. He was a demon and behind that angelic face of his hid the devil himself. .

I woke up once again, I felt very tired though. . It was dark outside, what time is it? I grabbed my phone, it was 3am, I could get more sleep! I laid back on my comfy bed and slept once again before starting the day. The day went on pretty well yet I felt that I was missing something.

[neighborhood-houseplant]

Damian Wayne x Reader

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♡ Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

♡ Relationship Status: Dating

♡ Type: Fluff

♡ Requested: @yourcatcoffeeaddictfan

♡ Gender: Female Reader

♡ Prompt: "It's time to get up."

♡ Au: Normal Au

♡ Warnings: There's nothing sexual going on, but both Damian and the Reader are 18.

____________

____________

The morning rays cracked through the gap in the curtains, shining on the two people lying in bed. Birds chirped, and flew around, beginning their days. Damian and (Y/n) lay in their bed, still fast asleep in a tangled mess of limbs. Subconsciously pulling (Y/n) closer to his shirtless frame, Damian lowly groaned as a buzzing noise filled the bedroom. Sighing in annoyance, the male attempted to turn off the noise.

Gently removing his arms from her waist, Damian rolled over and reached for his phone, charging on the bedside table, hastily turning off the alarm. Sighing, he ran his hands through his messy locks, attempting to somewhat fix his bedhead. His eyes trailed over towards (Y/n) who was still fast asleep, burrowing herself deeper into the blankets. 

Moving closer to her, Damian lightly shook her shoulder, a fond smile on his face. "Beloved, It's time to get up," he spoke, his voice a little raspy, having just woken up. However, only receiving a groan in response from the girl. Continuing to shake her shoulder, the girl finally turned towards him. Rubbing her eyes in an attempt to wake herself up a bit more. 

Lightly groaning, she looked at him with a quizzical expression. Smirking at her lightly, he spoke. "It's time to get out of bed." Letting out a playful and dramatic groan, she flopped herself back onto the mattress. Damian rolled his eyes, getting out of bed, lightly hissing when his feet hit the cold floors. Opening the bathroom door, he glanced back to (Y/n). 

Seeing her begin to go back underneath the covers, he spoke up. "Beloved, I'd better not find you in bed." Smiling in satisfaction as he watched her get out of bed, a very annoyed look on her. Entering the bathroom, she washed her face with cold water, hoping to wake herself up a bit more. "We're going over to Grayson's later." The male glanced at her, waiting for an answer. "Yeah, I know."

Walking back into the bedroom, (Y/n) opened the closet, pulling out one of Damian's turtle necks, some jeans, as well as her socks and undergarments. Quickly changing into the clothes, she rolled her shoulders to wake them up. "At least we get to skip training today," she mumbled, hoping Damian hadn't heard her. Arms wrapped around her waist as Damian rested his head on top of hers. 

"Unlikely." He spoke, having obviously heard her. His eyes trailed to the top she was wearing. "Beloved, why are you so insistent on taking my clothing?" Damian asked, "Do you want me to stop?" (Y/n) responded, glancing into his emerald green eyes. "No, you look ravishing in my clothing." He mumbled. Humming in response, (Y/n) finally took notice of the lack of a shirt on Damian. "You should get changed, Dami."

"I suppose." He mumbled, rummaging through the cupboard, pulling out his own clothes and shooing (Y/n) away, as she laughed, shutting the door behind her. Sliding down the railing, she hopped off, entering the kitchen to make breakfast for two of them and Titus. Washing her hands, she dried them and began to cook. First filling up Titus's food and water bowls. Deciding on just making the toast. Adding a few strawberries to both the plates, as well as some tea, since Damian wasn't the biggest fan of coffee.

Just as (Y/n) finished setting the table, and putting out Titus's food, Damian came downstairs, Titus following right behind him. Lightly kissing her temple, Damian sat down. "Thank you for making breakfast." He paused to take a sip of his tea. "It was delicious." (Y/n) grinned at him, silently thanking him for the compliment. 

After this, (Y/n) collected the plates and mugs. Damian offered to help with washing the dishes before they headed out. Scrubbing away at the dishes,  (Y/n) finally finished rinsing out the dishes, handing them to Damian who dried them off. Finally drying their hands, the two walked towards the front door, where their shoes were. 

Putting on their shoes, (Y/n) placed her hand on the doorknob, stopping as Damian piped up. "Beloved, I believe you are forgetting someone important." Turning around to look at him, with an irritated expression, she spoke. "We are not bringing Titus." Watching as Damain recoiled in horror. "And what is the reasoning for that." An equally irritated expression adorned his features. "We're only going to be gone for a few hours Damian, he'll be fine."

"And how would you possibly know that?" He glanced at her, awaiting a response. Rolling her eyes at him, (Y/n) grabbed her phone and keys and exited through the front door. Flabbergasted at the gesture action, Damian quickly petted Titus goodbye and grabbed his things before leaving and locking the door behind him.

(Y/n) was already in the car, in the passenger seat scrolling through her phone, and could do little to stop the small smirk that played its way onto her face when Damian finally got in the car. An annoyed scowl set on his face. Starting the car as the two pulled out onto the driveway, still very annoyed. "We could have taken Titus with us." He grumbled out when he realized that (Y/n) wasn't going to fall for his petty attitude. Gently placing her hand on the one he wasn't using, (Y/n) gently smiled at him. "Titus will be fine, we'll be back home soon anyway." 

Letting out a defeated sigh, Damian kept his eyes on the road, rubbing circles on (Y/n)'s palm as she was doing something uninteresting to him on her phone. She would occasionally look up from her phone when Damian pointed out something that had changed since the last time they'd come here. Soon, the neighborhood they pulled into became familiar. Making a final turn, Damian parked the car in Dick and Kori's driveway, turning off the engine but slightly frowning when he let go of (Y/n)'s hand.

Walking up to the front door, (Y/n) rung the doorbell, and not long after Kori opened the door. Pulling (Y/n) into a hug, Kori said gleefully. "(Y/n), it's been too long!" quietly laughing as she pulled back from the hug, as Kori turned to Damian. "Hello Damian." She smiled at him warmly as he waved uninterested. "So, where's Dick?" (Y/n) asked, peering over Kori's shoulder.

"I would also wish to know the whereabouts of Grayson." Damiam piped up. "I actually left him in the kitchen, he's making dinner." She spoke with a worried look on her face. A string if curses left the kitchen, which the three heard. Realization dawned on Kori's face, as she opened the door wider. "It's pretty cold outside, please come in." Thanking her, (Y/n) grabbed Damian's hand and dragged him into the house with her.

For the next few hours, Kori and (Y/n) engaged in conversations that were either beyond Damian's understanding, or his interest. For the most part, he was on his phone, reading something in Arabic but he was grateful that (Y/n) would try to involve him in their conversations, even if he was giving one word answers. Soon, Dick called them into the to eat, as the three sighed, finally happy to eat something.

Upon entering the dining room, the three glanced at the food that was spread out. Half of it looked over cooked, while the other half appeared to be undercooked. Kori and (Y/n) tried their best to be polite, thanking Dick for making the wonderful food, however this wasn't the case for Damian. "What is this rubbish?" As he glared at the food in complete disgust. "The only thing that doesn't look burnt is the salad." He crossed his arms.

Delivering a swift kick to his shin from underneath the table, (Y/n) interrupted him. "It looks lovely Dick, thank you for making the food." Glaring at Damian. From there, Kori and (Y/n) forced down the food, as to not hurt Dick's feelings. Whereas Damian completely refused to eat anything. When the food was finished, the four were ingaging in some light conversation.

"So (Y/n)," Dick began, as (Y/n) glanced at him, awaiting his question. "Can you cook?" He asked. "I guess so, not anything too complicated though." She quietly laughed when Damian rolled his eyes and spoke up. "You give yourself too little credit, Beloved. I'm sure you could cook much better than Grayson and Kori" Watching as Kori feigned mock offense, however Dick was quiet the opposite.

"Well, I bet Kori is much better than (Y/n) at a lot of things," he narrowed his eyes in Damian's direction. "Do you wish to name those things?" Damian glared back with just as much intensity. "Yes, just take how strong Kori is." Dick said gesturing to his girlfriend, as Damian scoffed at him. "My Beloved could rival Kori's strength effortlessly." "But she can't fly can she?" Dick responded, adding fuel to the fire.

Both Kori and (Y/n) both made uncomfortable eye contact, watching the two males argue back and forth. Kori gestured for them to slip away, as they both got up but Dick and Damian were too invested in their argument that the two didn't notice. Back in the living room, the two females sat there in silence for a moment before bursting out into fits of giggles and laughter. As their laughter died down, (Y/n) spoke up.

"I'm really sorry about Damian." As Kori shook her hand in dismissal. "Its alright, Dick is just as bad." As (Y/n) nodded in response. The two decided to play a game of card to pass the time. Roughly an hour in, Damian came in and looked around the room. Once he'd spotted (Y/n) he grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the house. "We're leaving, I refuse to be around to Grayson's utter stupidity." Quickly waving goodbye to Kori, she let Damian drag her into the car.

"You seem mad, huh?" (Y/n) stated in a teasing tone of voice. Rolling his eyes and refusing to look at her, Damian continued to drive. Once again grabbing the hand that he wasn't using, (Y/n) began to trace small shapes on his knuckles with her fingers. It was a silent attempt to calm him down, which more often than not, worked. Letting out a sigh, Damian spoke. "Thank you." Humming in response, (Y/n) continued to play with his fingers.

At something during the car ride, (Y/n) stopped tracing shapes on Damian's hand, he turned to glance at her, smiling in content as he noticed that she'd fallen asleep. He was thankful to have her, even if he didn't often show it. That was the exact reason he'd fired up when Dick tried to compare her to Kori. It was nights like this, he was grateful he could experience.

"Good night, Beloved."

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How was that? I hope you liked it!

- Pinky

[nightowlwriting]

summary: fjord takes care of the mighty nein. you take care of fjord. (part 4/13 of the kindness series, a thematically connected series of c2/exu imagines)

word count: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of self-hatred, bullying, lack of self-confidence

note: idk why this one took me so long and, honestly, it was almost super nsfw lmfao

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Fjord is a man who appears to know exactly what he needs and when he needs it. You’re not so sure. You tend to hang back when the group talks to people, or finds jobs for coin, just to watch. That’s what you like to do - get information, tuck it away, use it later.

It just happens that sometimes you end up watching Fjord. There’s no reason, not really. He’s the leader by default, no matter how much Nott will say that it’s Caleb. He does most of the talk, smiling all coy and leaning against things to charm the party’s way through whatever Gods forsaken situation you end up in. It mostly works, with some exceptions. There are things you begin to notice in the nights after Fjord has failed to charm someone with a well-placed wink, or a sir or a ma’am. He makes the fire just a little bit larger, stacking logs and kindling and using his flint so that Caleb doesn’t have to use his magic. He cooks heartier food, sometimes even disappearing and coming back with a skewered animal from the forest to add to the pot of simmering soup. He takes the first watch and doesn’t wake anyone until halfway through the second watch so that everyone can sleep longer, even if it makes him crabby the morning after.

You come to a conclusion. Fjord takes care of people when he feels like he’s not enough. He overcompensates in his acts of kindness when something he does fails - but why? To make you all stay? To make sure you know his worth in the group? To make up for whatever he sees as a downfall? Honestly, you’re worried it’s a little bit of all three. You’re not really sure about how the mind works - that would be more for Molly, or Caleb honestly - but growing up in an orphanage with children who pick and prod at your every physical characteristic cannot be good for a person. Especially with Fjord insisting that he doesn’t have a last name, despite the times that he introduces himself and you see it die on his lips before he can say it. There’s something there, but you won’t pry. People deserve their secrets. They deserve to keep something for themselves.

If he wants to keep his last name, that’s fine with you. If he wants to keep the self-loathing inside of him until he explodes, well, that’s not fine with you. That’s why when you realize that he decompresses by making himself useful, as if the group might dismiss him just because a few people were immune to his charms, you decide to do something. No amount of reassurance from anyone will convince him otherwise and the rest of the group tends to shrug away from his slightly overbearing kindness when something goes south. Caleb, Beau, and Molly are just uncomfortable with it while Jester is usually too engrossed in journaling, Tusk Love, or talking to the Traveler. Nott is somewhere between Caleb and Yasha (uncomfortable and straight-up not around to be doted on.) And… Well, that leaves you.

It’s not that you mind Fjord’s constant doting after he perceives something to have gone wrong, but it’s hard to let him in. Your life before the Mighty Nein wasn’t exactly peaches and cream, either, but you know that he needs this. He needs to feel like he’s doing something for someone or he’ll break. You only notice that, though, after a particularly rough, rainy day of trying to get information out of people for a job. Fjord had forgotten something important which threw off the communication and sent everyone you were working with into an angry tizzy. By the time you make it back to the tavern, everyone is soaked to the bone and cranky, even you - and you tried your best to avoid getting out in the rain. What you really want to do is go back to your room and change out of your wet clothes and then go to fucking bed, but you hold back. The group disperses one by one until it’s just you and Fjord left at the bar, and before you can make your leave you see his hands shaking. His hands, which are large and calloused and strong, are shaking like a leaf in the wind. There’s no other outward sign that he’s feeling stressed or upset, and that surprises you. It also worries you. This is not how Fjord acts when something goes wrong. He doesn’t sit at the bar and brood over an ale - he mother-hens his friends until they’re sick to death of hearing his deep, drawling voice.

The combination of these things is probably what makes you pause halfway out of your seat, eyes narrow and trained on him. He makes eye contact for a brief second before looking back down to his drink. You know that approaching and asking him if he’s okay will get you nowhere but you can’t leave him alone at the bar, not when you know he’s stewing on every mistake, every misstep, whether they really happened or he’s just overanalyzing his movements. He’s your… He’s more than a friend to you, despite the fact that he doesn’t know that and you don’t show it outwardly. Fjord means too much to you to be able to let him sit and spiral into a funnel of self-doubt. You know that it will be weird to put your pride to the side and ask for help, but you also know that you don’t really need help.

But asking Fjord for help means that he’ll feel better and you think that’s a very good reason to shelf your pride for a night.

He barely looks up at you when you approach, still dripping all over the tavern’s floors and hesitant to speak. He doesn’t speak, either, just takes another long pull from his ale to bide his time until you leave. (Probably.) You take the leap first and say his name. “Fjord.” He doesn’t look at you. “I know we’ve all had a bad day,”

“You can say that again,” He snorts.

“We have,” You stress, one hand finding the hilt of the dagger on your waist for some sort of comfort. You’re wildly uncomfortable and can feel the urge to run, get away, flee building up in your gut. If you’re not careful, it’ll spill out your mouth and you’ll be forced out of the tavern for the night in humiliation and self-preservation. “It has been one hell of a day today. I do not want to be alone.” Your sentence cuts off briskly and Fjord looks up in surprise. Your face mirrors his - untamed surprise. You had really opened your mouth to ask if he wanted to find a table and listen to your vent but what came out was I do not want to be alone. You blink and think what the fuck? Before Fjord is shaking off his surprise and standing.

“I suppose I can give Molly the room for the night.” He extends an arm towards you but doesn’t look at you. He’s doing a much better job of hiding how strange you’re acting than you are but still, you’re not going to let this opportunity pass. You wrap your own arm around Fjord’s and he begins to lead you toward the stairs. “Anything specific bothering you?”

“Nothing really,” You hum as you respond, hoping that by allowing him past your walls that it will help him, “Today is just a bad day.” Fjord halfheartedly agrees and your nerves shoot through the roof when he leaves you at your door, explaining that he’s going to warn Molly that he won’t be in the room tonight. You nod at him and slip into your own room, leaving the door cracked so that he won’t feel awkward about entering. Your laundry is everywhere and you grit your teeth, doing your best to hold back a scream. God damnit, you’re about to have the man that you have a crush on in your room and today is the day you threw your laundry all over?

It doesn’t even matter that he’s traveled with you in carts where there is no possible way to not overlap on laundry slash unmentionables. You still dash about, shoving your laundry into a pile in the corner and covering it with your weapons and shield just before Fjord raps his knuckles against the door frame, calling your name. You shiver and invite him in, wringing your hands as you stand in front of the unlit fireplace. “Are you okay?” He’s so earnest and it makes you feel… A little bad. You don’t want to say no to having Fjord be with you overnight because his presence is so calming, but it’s also… He’s not in your room because…

Ugh. “Fjord,” You say before you can stop yourself, “Okay, so, you can’t be mad but I noticed when things go wrong you’re really, really hard on yourself and you shouldn’t be. And I also noticed that when you’re hard on yourself you dive into taking care of other people because, I don’t know, maybe it feels like you’re doing something good? I’m not sure, but I really meant to ask if you wanted to talk but then that came out instead but I can’t let you stay in here if you don’t know why I asked.” He stands there, taking in what you’ve said, and then shakes his head. Your room is dark - too dark for you to see whether or not the small smile on his face is actually there or if you’re imagining it. When he chuckles, you’re more apt to believe that Fjord is actually smiling even after the day he’s had. “Um,” You finally cut the silence, “Please say something.”

“You mean to tell me,” He drawls, stepping slowly closer and removing his chest plate. It’s like his mood has gone a full 180 from where it was when he left you outside of your room, “That you looked so awkward and like a li’l kicked puppy because you wanted to help me feel better?” He sets his chest plate on the table, coming into your sight as your vision begins to adjust. You don’t get a good look at what’s happening on his face because you look away very quickly, setting your jaw.

“Well, when you put it that way,” You grumble and cross your arms, “You just like to help people - it makes you feel better.”

Fjord comes to a stop in front of you and sighs, but doesn’t say anything. Your hands begin to shake and honestly, you regret your stupid fucking decision to try and help Fjord out. You wouldn’t be here, standing in front of him and purely humiliated, if you didn’t look at him and notice so much. He finally responds, one of his hands coming up to touch at your bicep and then trails up until he’s cupping your shoulder. “I do like to help people,” He’s speaking more from his chest than his mouth, and you can almost feel the rumble through the grip he has on your shoulder. It’s not tight but it’s there, heavy and comforting. “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“I notice a lot,” You supply, tugging your chin away when Fjord tries to use the other hand to make you look at him. It’s only after he says your name in a soft voice that you look. You’re surprised to see that he looks soft… Soft and fond. “Please,” You whisper, uncrossing your arms to grab both of his wrists. You’re not even sure what you’re asking for but the way that you whispered please is the closest to begging that you’ve ever gotten.

“Please?” Fjord says, sounding incredibly confused but soft at the same time. You shake your head, trying again to look away from him. He ducks down, catching your eyes again, “It’s just me, remember? This is why you asked me here, isn’t it? To help you feel better?”

To your horror, you feel yourself mist up. “I invited you here so you could feel better, Fjord. I don’t want you to be so hard on yourself, and the only time I’ve seen you calm down after a bad day is when you’re taking care of one of us. I thought… Even if I don’t really need to be taken care of, that would help you. I just want… I want you to feel better.” He steps closer toward you, caging you into the rough stone of the fireplace but doesn’t speak. You’re almost worried that Fjord is going to cold clock you, but then he does something that you expected even less.

He surges forward and kisses you. Every part of him nearly engulfs you - the hand on your shoulder moves to the back of your neck, anchoring you to him, while he groans deep in the back of his throat. Your hands scramble for some purchase to express your surprise, landing on his hearty shoulders, clenching in the fabric of his shirt. You sigh into Fjord’s groan, and press as close as possible to his body heat. No matter how much you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been craving this: closeness with another person, pressing tight against their body… You’d be lying if you didn’t admit that when you thought of that, of intimacy, that you pictured Fjord. You just didn’t think he pictured you.

Fjord surges forward again, and you feel the soft scrape of tusks against you when he opens his mouth to breathe, keeping his nose pressed tightly to yours. “I didn’t think,” He says, accent thinner than you’ve heard previously, “I never dreamed that you would feel…”

“Oh, I feel,” You tell him, slowly moving your hands until you can intertwine your fingers behind his neck, “I feel so much, Fjord.”

“You never said…” He sneaks another kiss between his words, dropping his hands to squeeze at your waist, “You never even let on that you see me this way.”

“I do a lot of looking and not a lot of showing,” You remind him - it was something he had said to you when you first joined his group. I always catch you lookin’, but you never show. It’s terribly funny because he’d said it while the Mighty Nein were all naked, sudsy, and sharing a bathhouse at Molly’s insistence. The group had a field day with that and still does. The memory is apparently still fresh in Fjord’s head because a blush creeps high over his cheeks and he looks away, flustered. “You’re strong and pretty and beautiful and you take care of us so well. Even when you’ve had a bad day. I look up to you so much, but at the same time I want, perhaps selfishly, to take care of you in ways that you might not take care of the group.” He almost looks surprised at what you’ve said, but then it melts into a look of soft adoration. Fjord kisses you again and then drags his lips lightly over the arch of your cheek before he rests his head on your shoulder where he inhales deeply, his breath tickling your throat. You can feel his hands contracting against your waist, like he wants to touch and feel but is settling for keeping them where they are and feeling the soft give of your flesh. You know your heart is spinning at what feels like a million miles per hour, and you know that he can probably hear it, too. You can’t find anything in you that cares, though, because you’re so close to Fjord. He smells like saltwater, you realize. Not in a way that it seems like he’s been coughing it up again, or in the ocean, but just sort of… Naturally. Like he’s always smelled that way. Like you’ve always known he smelled that way. Like you were always meant to know and to find comfort in it. You pull yourself closer, relishing in the way that you hold each other, and Fjord sighs. You can feel the way that he relaxes underneath your hold and you relax, too.

This… This is the way that it’s supposed to be. This is how you can do for Fjord what he’s done for your team - except different. Except more.