#i stick it on shuffle and go

[clumsypuppy]

auggie!!

[lucabyte]

my bitching abt taking homestuck seriously as a text was apparently a prelude to me finally getting some coherent thoughts in order re: things im noticing this time around to do with The Time Period Of 2009 (an era in which i was. 10) . so that reread tag ive barely done anything with may finally get some use when i can make this into a semi-coherent point. not that i think im qualified to be saying anything about things but eh. might as well. but ill be curious to get opinions from people who Are better informed abt certain areas of pop culture

[subsequentibis]

my dearest husband has been helping me fix my room up and took me out to get shelving for my books & a corkboard so i can finally put up the kajillion pins & keychains & stickers & postcards & prints i have!! REJOICE

[figureitoutinthemorning]

It’s nearly half one in the morning. Even my cat is asleep. Why am I still pacing around.

[snail-day]

Satoru lives for your grumpy mornings, makes a whole game out of it, really. How long it takes for you to snap. The second you shuffle into the kitchen, barely picking your feet up, he’s leaning against the counter with a grin that’s way too bright for this hour. Or perhaps for a man who only got roughly three hours of sleep.

“Ohhh, good morning, grumpy butt,” he chirps, voice syrupy sweet and teasing. Those stupidly pretty baby blues twinkle with mischief, and his snow-white hair is all fluffed from sleep, a few strands sticking up where he clearly towel-dried it and called it a day.

You mumble something incoherent and plop into his arms anyway, letting yourself sink into his warmth. Pressing your face into his toned chest and taking a big whiff. He smells like laundry detergent and the faint hint of his cologne, clean, sweet, familiar.

“Awwww,” he coos, dropping into that obnoxious baby voice, arms caging you in as he sways you side to side, “it’s so hard being my sleepy little baby, huh? Sooo tough, such a hard little life you got.”

You groan into his chest, but that only earns you a cascade of kisses, first to your head, then your cheek, your temple, and your nose. Each one loud and wet on purpose.

“Mwah. Mwah. Mwah, oh? What was that? You hate me?” he gasps, planting another exaggerated kiss right on your frown. “You’re so mean in the mornings, baby. I’m delicate like a flower.”

His lashes flutter as he leans in closer, mock-pouting. You hate how good he looks like this, face still soft with sleep, lips plush and pink, that playful curve to his mouth, knowing exactly how far he can push you before you start biting.

He starts walking you backward with all those kisses, cornering you between his strong arms and the kitchen counter's edge until you’re stuck in his little trap. He looks down at you with a bright smile, arms looped lazily around your waist.

“You’re not even denying it,” he hums, voice low and sing-song as he kisses you again, softer this time, lips lingering on yours for a few mere seconds just to taunt again. “You're so cute when you’re cranky. Wanna hit me a little? Maybe a little bite? Go ahead. I can take it. Just don’t stop cuddling me after.”

[lucidfairies]

— pretty in pink [sevika]

synopsis: after you lose your final strike, your parents all but banish you to their old friend's farm, and well, as much as you hate it, the woman happens to be obscenely attractive

pairing: rich!bimbo!reader x farmer! sevika

warnings: younger!reader (twenties, sevika is thirties/forties), mean!sevika, pussy eating, backshots, fingering, orgasm denial, domestic kink, breeding kink, free use mentioned, dirty talk, pet names, fucking in front of a mirror, breath play, oral fixation, spanking + counting spanks, degradation, stomach bulge, squirting strap, strap referred to as cock/dick

wc: 4.8k

a/n: lots of quick notes! this fic is very much based on this post by @polkadotzzzz !!! and per usual, so many thanks to my dearest @sevsgiirl for helping me out with this one 🩷

It was only one party.

Your best friend, Jinx, invited you, and it was a well known fact that Jinx knew the best parties, with the best drugs and the best drinks. So of course you couldn’t turn her down, and thank god you didn’t. The party was packed, and the drinks and drugs were more than anything you had ever dreamt of.

That being said, when a picture of you snorting a line circled all of the tabloids, it was easy to say that your parents wanted your head on a stick. Your parents were notorious in town, seeing as they were the wealthiest. Somehow, their money got them top spots in every celebrity gossip magazine, and you were in no way except from it.

The idea was ridiculous. You were an adult, standing tall in your twenties, and it wasn’t anyone’s right (especially your parents) to tell you how to live your life. If you wanted to snort coke at a party with fifty of your closest friends, then you were going to. No magazine was going to stop you.

That was how you landed here, on the front porch of a woman that you didn’t even know the name of. Your parents stood in front of you as you waited for her to answer the door, and when she finally did, you hardly bothered looking up from your phone. This wasn’t going to last long, you were sure of it. Your parents wanted you to live on a farm, tending to animals like some kind of slob. They claimed it would “get you in line”, as if your life meant that much to them.

You had several men behind you, shuffling in your number of suitcases as your parents hugged the woman before you and made efforts to catch up. For someone they claimed to have known for so long, you had never heard of the woman, and when you looked up and finally got a good look at her, you only remembered her face from one meager photo on the wall.

She was tall, taller than your father even, and she was packed with pure muscle. The woman was truly intimidating, but you attempted to shrug it off. Maybe you could offer her money in return for not making you work with anything dirty.

“Sevika, we are so grateful for you,” your mother spoke softly, taking her hand and patting it like she was doing some innumerable service to them. “This is our daughter, I don’t think you’ve ever met her,” you stepped forward, still scrolling on your phone as you popped a large bubble of gum. Your mother wacked your arm and you rolled your eyes, turning off your phone.

“‘m Sevika,” she reached a hand out and you looked at it for a moment, noticing every speck of dirt that graced her palm. “Y’r daddy says you’re in need of someone to set you straight, sound about right?” Your dad chuckled and you sighed.

“That’s not exactly how I’d phrase it, pretty sure I’m just living my life as an adult,” you side-eyed him with a glare. “And regardless, none of this is any of your business.” You huffed. To you, it truly wasn’t anyone’s. Your parents' public image didn’t matter to you, you didn’t want any part in it.

Sevika hummed, turning to your dad. “Don’t you worry, boss. I’ll get ‘er in line. Thanks for stoppin’ by, ‘m sure you’ve got a lot to get to.” With a long bunch of final goodbyes, your parents were gone, and you were left alone with a stranger. The idea pissed you off - your parents were tired of dealing with you, and instead of wiping that picture off of the internet, they decided to dump you on a random woman.

“So what exactly will I be doing here?” You said, twirling a piece of hair around your finger as you popped another bubble. “I won’t have to like… clean up animal shit, right? I just got a manicure and I didn’t pay two hundred dollars just to ruin my hands, y’know?” Sevika rolled her eyes.

“You’re gon’ do what I tell you to do. That’s the point of this lil’ apprenticeship. Your bedroom is upstairs on the right. We wake at five, feed the animals, eat, and spend the rest of the day outside.” Your jaw dropped, eyebrows knitting. Sevika could see the piece of gum chewed into your teeth.

“Five in the morning? Why on earth would I get up that early?” You scoffed, pulling your phone out again. You could hardly wait to tell Jinx about this, but halfway through your message, your phone was being snatched from your hands.

“Jus’ because your father let you get away with being a brat don’t mean that I will. This,” she waved your phone around, “is mine now. For the rest of the summer, you work for me, and you work when I work, y’hear me?” You almost wanted to laugh at her. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t going to work.

“Whatever you say, boss,” you popped yet another bubble in her face this time, mocking the title she used for your dad mere minutes ago. “Do you have people who can like, take these up for me?” You looked over at your bags and she laughed at you.

“It don’t work like that out here, darlin. You carry your own things up. Since y’r new, I’ll take one for y’a. But only one.” You groaned, grabbing one of the suitcases as she did and following her upstairs. Compared to your bedroom at home, this room was like a closet. She dropped the luggage on the floor as if it wasn’t a ten thousand dollar handmade pink set.

“Well, where I’m from, we don’t throw expensive things on the ground like animals,” you shot, picking up the suitcase. “This is so not going to work out.” Sevika rolled her eyes, disappearing down the hall for the evening. Thank god you finally got a break from her.

The next morning was like hell. She woke you up bright and early, just like she said she would, and tossed you a disgusting pair of overalls that she instructed you to put on. Not only was the outfit ugly, but she also gave you no time to do your hair and makeup before she was yelling at you to get out the door.

“I’m not touching that,” you pulled your hands back as she handed you a bucket full of god knows what. “That’s disgusting, I already told you-”

“You ain’t breakin’ a nail, I get it. Suck it up and go feed the pigs. It ain’t gonna kill y’a.” You rolled your eyes, still not taking the bucket from her hands.

“No.” Her jaw tightened, and her angry gaze fell upon you. You noticed, then, that her eyes were grey, and they shined. If you didn’t hate her guts already, you would obviously coin that they were gorgeous, like the rest of her. But you hated her guts.

“Listen here, you brat,” her accent got thicker. “I’m not any happier about this than you are. But we’re here, and my job is to set you straight. So man up and go feed the pigs.” You glared, but took the bucket regardless. She rolled her eyes as you stormed off, the heavy bucket weighing you down.

You had to admit, the pigs were quite cute, especially the small ones. But that didn’t outweigh the muck on your hands, or the fact that this jackass woman insisted that you were a brat.

-

Two weeks of absolute torture had gone by. There was no way in hell that you would keep this up, not for the whole summer. You couldn’t even get through a month, let alone four. Not to mention the woman hadn’t even hinted at the idea of giving you a break. You didn’t go out for dinner, didn’t take days off, didn’t go to clubs. It was the worst possible life of a rich city girl.

Sevika was a terrible boss. She was mean and strict and she hated everything about you, you were sure of it. However, the woman was undeniably attractive, in a terrible way. She was mean to you and it made your knees weak, she called you a brat and you thought about her taking the brat out of you. I mean, look at those arms. She could take you whenever and wherever she wanted.

You were sure, though, that this was simply because you hadn’t had sex in three weeks.

“Sev,” you wandered downstairs, crop top and shorts clinging to your body like it was life support. She was on the couch, reading the newspaper in her reading glasses like it was 1983. She looked up, eyes dancing down the curves of your figure before snapping back to her paper. “Are there any local bars? I’m thinking of going out.”

“No and no.” She grumbled. “‘s jus’ gonna land you in the same situation that got you here. You’re not doin’ that.” You sighed. Luckily, contrary to her knowledge, you knew where your phone was, and Google Maps would happily show you local bars.

Without responding, you strolled your way back upstairs, gracefully grabbing your phone and typing in bars. To your dismay, only one came up, but it didn’t matter to you. That was the one you would go to, and the thought of getting drunk gave you a buzz almost better than weed.

You planned it perfectly: Sevika went to bed early, of course, so you could easily sneak out once she was asleep. You didn’t leave your slutty clothes at home, in fact, you filled two suitcases with them, so when the day came, the glittery, pink dress that was far shorter than it should be called your name loudly. It was a v-neck, falling far into the crack of your tits, with a south Asian inspired scarf. You paired it with pink heeled boots, and pink makeup to finish the look. The night was going to be amazing, you could tell just from the outfit.

The plan started well.

Sevika went to bed, as you planned, and you were able to get out with your phone, no less. You called yourself a taxi and got to the bar without a problem, practically welcomed like a queen. You tried to tell yourself that all of the stares and hoots and free drinks were because people knew you and not because all of the old men thought that you were hot, but it was notably the latter.

You loved free drinks, at the end of the day it didn’t matter who they were from or why they were sending them. So, as the shots poured in, you were more than happy to take them, and take them and take them.

Fortunately, some strange men also paid for your food, sobering you up every couple of shots. You didn't want to be drunk when you got home, fearing that it would interrupt Sevika's sleep, and lead to her finding out that you snuck out. So, the random meals and several glasses of water allowed you to maintain a constant state of switching between sober and not sober.

You all but sobered up when the bar doors slammed open, and Sevika appeared in the middle. She came towards you, grabbed your arm, and dragged you off of the barstool. She tossed some cash on the bar and turned towards you, furious. “What the fuck were you thinking?” She hissed, grinding her teeth together.

“Sev,” you groaned, looking around at all the eyes looking at you. “Can we not do this here?” You attempted to pull your arm from her grip with no avail. Instead, she spun the two of you around, pushing you towards the door and out of the bar with the grip still right on your arm.

She didn't release you until the both of you made it into her truck, where she slammed the door in your face and got into the driver's seat. “D’you think about things before you do ‘em? At all?” She roared, pulling out of the bar. “Did you see the way those men looked at you? You coulda gotten yourself in serious trouble.” You rolled your eyes, your favorite thing to do when she was around.

“It’s not your job to police what I do. In fact, I think you’re jealous. At least I have men paying for my drinks. You wish.” She practically cackled at that, and your already lame comeback made you feel even smaller. You were sure Sevika didn’t even like men, especially when you were digging through one of her drawers looking for your phone and stumbled across some interesting magazines.

“If I wanted that, I could have that, and y’know it, peach. This ain’t about me, though. Get your ass in line or I’m tellin’ your daddy to leave you out here, ‘nd you know he will.” The thought of staying here any longer than you had to made you want to tear your hair out. Maybe the thought alone was enough to keep you in line. She pulled into the driveway and turned the car off, turning to you with a sigh. “Don’t do that shit again. ’m not like your parents, ’m not writin’ off y’r dumbass choices.”

“Let me go out then, for the love of god. Drinking won’t kill me.” You turned your attention to your hand, picking at your nail. “Not to mention, I haven’t had sex in weeks. Weeks! I could’ve checked that box tonight and you wouldn’t have had to deal with me like this anymore.” She was clearly unamused, wide lips remaining downturned.

“You’re actin’ the same way now that you do all the time; like a fuckin’ brat. Go inside and go to bed, for god’s sake.” She popped her door open and got out, slamming the door behind her. You waited a moment before following her, still angry from her slew of comments throughout the evening.

“Maybe it’s your fault,” you said when you stepped into the home, “you’re the one who’s mean to me, taking my things, making fun of my clothes. You’re a fucking jackass. I have no reason to listen to you. Full grown adult, remember?” You sneered, gesturing up and down your body.

“I did what I was told. Take a fuckin’ chill pill. I ain’t gon’ stand here arguin’ with you, it’s a waste of time.” She began to walk past you and you grabbed her arm, pulling as hard as you could. She was significantly larger and stronger than you, so you weren’t surprised when your efforts made little difference.

“You don’t get to just walk away in the middle of an important conversation! Stop being a fuckin-” She turned quickly, large body almost caging you against the wall. If you wanted to, it wouldn’t be hard for you to simply go left or right and move away from her. But now, her body was close, and warmth was bouncing between the two of you, and well, the same need from earlier came back.

“Stop.” She demanded, tone low. Her chest rose and fell quickly, as if talking to you was the most taxing thing on this earth. She stood there for more than a moment, eyes drilled into yours with an innate sense of fury. This was her breaking point. She wondered how long it would take when she first met you. You were driving her fucking insane.

“Make me.” You spat, angrily. She almost did. Truly. Well, until you did it for her.

She backed up and you followed her, chasing her heat. Before you knew it, the cotton of her shirt was in your hands and you were clumsily pulling her forward, pressing up on your toes until your mouth was pressed against hers. By some miracle, she didn’t fight it. Her large hands cupped your face, pulling you in and pressed her lips harshly to yours.

She wasted no time before she was running her tongue along your lips and pushing it into your mouth, knees practically weak when you moaned like a fucking slut. She wasn’t especially gentle when she pushed you against the wall behind you, but her tongue down your throat and her knee between your legs made up for it.

Your hands begged to run down her figure, but you weren’t exactly in the position to take control, so you instead placed them around her neck, pulling on the short hair on the back of it. Her hands met your hips, pinning you to the wall so that you wouldn’t grind against her. You pulled back from her lips, meeting her angry eyes once again before dropping your lips to her neck, sucking a dark hickey into it.

“Fuck,” she groaned, “‘course you like trashy shit like this.” she continued as you left several more. Your hands dragged down her front, finding her chest promptly. “Upstairs, now.” She pulled back from you, but you grabbed her hand and pulled her behind you. You had only been in her room briefly to acquire your phone, so the details of it had never been your focus. But now, you focused on the purple color of her sheets and the ambiance of it.

Like a pornstar, you pushed her back onto the bed, slipping your dress over her head and finding purchase in her lap. Her hand ran along your stomach, admiring your body briefly before closing her eyes. “This isn’t right, darlin’. ‘m too mad, and I promised y’r daddy I would get you straight.” You giggled.

“I like mad.” you insisted, tugging your lip between your teeth and grinding your hips into her, urging her to open her eyes. You leaned in, warm breath hitting her ear. “Put me in my place?” You squealed when she lifted you up and flipped you, trapping you under her.

“You ain’t gonna get what you want from this. ‘m gon’ fuck some sense into that pretty head, huh?” You nodded, smiling too wide to focus on anything she was saying. You were a fucking airhead, god, there were so many things she wanted to do to you.

You didn’t have anything but a cheap pair of panties under the dress, meaning that she had spent the last several minutes attempting to focus on anything that wasn’t your tits. But now? Now her mouth was blessing your left nipple, tugging it into her mouth and sucking, pinning you down with a hand on your lower stomach once again. She wanted to fuck the shit out of you, sure, but you weren’t getting what you wanted any time soon.

She switched tits, kneading the other with her palm. As she sucked, her fingers pulled at your nipple, creating the perfect combination of soft and rough. You were moaning like a bitch in heat, and she adored it. You were so fucking easy, letting her in your pants like it wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t long before she was kissing her way down to your panties, keeping eye contact with you as she did it. She looked like an animal hunting its prey, and the prey was you. You realized, then, that she had you exactly where she wanted you.

You knew you were in for it when she took a fat lick from the bottom of your cunt to the top, over your panties. You whined, back arching off the bed as your head fell back. She planned to eat you over your panties until you cried and begged for her, but she couldn’t take it. You were soaked through, like floodgates opened between your legs, and she needed you.

She pulled your panties down your legs, pushing your thighs apart until you were fully on display for her. “She’s so pretty, isn’t she?” she mocked, not breaking her gaze on your pussy. She leaned in, hands dropping to the backs of your thighs, and pressed a kiss to your clit. Your hips twitched and you whined again, lacing one of your hands in her hair.

She ate you like the world was ending.

Her tongue blessed all the pretty places that you needed it, flicking against your clit and fucking into you, sucking up every last drop that you had. She loved it, loved the way you moaned and twitched and begged for her to not stop, never stop. You were halfway to your orgasm and she pulled up, looking as if she was in an absolute daze.

“Gon’ make you a housewife, baby. Eat this pussy whenever I want, how’s that sound? Fuck, look at you,” her middle finger circled your entrance, gathering all of her spit and your slick. You sucked her in as she pushed it in knuckle by knuckle, and she swore she blacked out. “Pretty girl just needed the snob fucked out of her, didn’t you?” you could’ve cried when she added another finger, crooking them up into the perfect spot. “Answer me, slut.”

“Yes, yes,” you cried, “please, whenever you want.” She grinned, like this was the best day of her life. With two fingers pumping in you, she kept her mouth busy on your clit, sucking hard until you were quite literally crying, tears streaming down your face as your stomach twisted.

You clenched down hard on her fingers and she pulled them out, stopping everything. You whined, lifting your hips to chase her. “Bad girls don’t get to come. Open,” she tapped your bottom lip and you did as told, taking her wet fingers in your mouth. She couldn’t stand you, couldn’t stand the way you squirmed and pushed your thighs together as you sucked her fingers, knowing that it made you so wet. “Lay across my lap, yeah, good girl.”

Notably, her kind sense of security was short lived once you were across her lap.

“Count. If you stop counting we start over, y’understand?” You nodded, unsure of what was about to happen until her mech hand came in harsh against your left ass cheek. You squeaked, hurling forward and gripping the sheets. “What’d I say, peach? Gonna count or get hit?”

“One,” you whimpered, crying out again when her hand came down on the other side. It felt so good. “Two,” she went back and forth until your ass was beet red, and you got to a sparse ten. You almost asked her to keep going, but with the way your cunt was drooling on her lap, she couldn’t possibly keep going.

“Up,” she instructed, tapping your ass twice. “Face the mirror, ass up, tits down.” You giggled again, knowing exactly what was coming. Doggy was probably your favorite position, but doggy facing a mirror had to be heaven on earth.

By the time you got your shit together enough to do as told, she was already back, pajama pants stripped and harness clinging to her hips. Sevika had the body of a god, truthfully. You had always gotten wet over her arms, but her abs and her hips were nothing less than god-like. All of her was simply perfect.

The strap hanging from the harness wasn’t anything like something you had seen or taken before. It was long and wide, with veins to detail. She had lube in one hand, from what you could see over your shoulder, but you couldn’t see what was in the other. She climbed up on the bed, kneeling behind you as she placed her series of materials down. First, she took your wrists and pinned them behind your back with a pair of silk handcuffs, and then she lubed up her strap until it was ready for you.

Gods, she could’ve come on spot when she teased your entrance with the tip. You moaned like a fucking whore, rocking back into her as your cunt begged. The tip alone had your eyes rolling back in your head, and your state didn’t improve as she continued pushing. “Sev,” you whined, “it won’t fit, ‘s too big,” you cried out, and she laughed at you.

“You’ll make it fit, won’t you, bunny? Yeah, you will.” And, well, you did. The strap hit its hilt, filling you to the absolute brim. Watching your pussy stretch around her dick had to be the best thing she’d ever seen. “Fuck, peach, knew you were trouble but I didn’t think you’d be such a whore, too.” She placed her large palm on your back, pressing down on your shoulder blades so that your back arched as far as it could.

She moved slowly, head thrown back as she listened to the noises you made. Not only were you moaning out of your mind, but your cunt squelched with every thrust, wetting her hips as your skin slapped together. The scene in the mirror was obscene, filthy even. You looked like a whore, jaw slacked and eyes in the back of your head as she plowed into you.

However, it all got dramatically worse when she pulled you up, so that you kneeled in front of her as she fucked you. Her large arm wrapped around your throat, bicep digging into your windpipe. Your hands wrapped around her arm, but in comparison, they were small. She held you like that until your brain got fuzzy, unrelenting in her pace. She used her free hand on your clit, rubbing it just the way you needed.

“Y’r so fuckin’ full, sweet girl. See that in y’r belly? ‘s my dick.” You could see it, the way her strap poked out in your stomach with every thrust of her hips. Filthy. It was the only way to describe it. “God, imagine if I could jus’ have you whenever I wanted you,” her arm loosened around your throat, but instead of pushing you back down, she pressed two fingers into your mouth.

Sevika could hardly deal with the sight of you. She had already come once, most definitely, but the vision of you in front of her could make her come again on command. You were so fucked out, so pliant. So willing to do whatever she wanted. “What’d y’r parents think if they saw you like this, huh? What if I fill you up, get you pregnant?” You could’ve screamed, but a loud whimper was the best she got.

She pulled her fingers from her mouth and bent you back over, grabbing your hips rather than pressing between your shoulder blades. “Please,” you begged, “please get me pregnant,” she threw her head back yet again, orgasm building in her stomach. “Please, please please, fill me up, Vika, please,” she groaned as she came against the back of the harness, hips stuttering and abs flexing.

“Gonna fill you up and make you a mommy, ain’t that right, pretty baby?” You moaned again, too gone for words. Tears streamed down your face as her pace started again, unrelenting yet again. She fucked into you so hard that the bedframe shook, and soon enough, that familiar feeling was developing in your stomach. “‘m gon’ stuff you full of my dick everyday, shit,”

You screamed when you came, and it got a million times better when a warm liquid filled you, making it feel like Sevika had, in fact, filled you up. When she pulled out of you, she almost came again. Your cum and hers dripped from your hole down your cunt, and she watched you twitch and drool into the bedsheets.

She was going to clean you up, of course, but your pussy had her fucking entranced.She knew she was fucked, she knew there wasn’t ever going to be a moment moving forward where she didn’t want you on her face. And now, every time you acted up, she could fuck you into oblivion.

She got you cleaned up and in clean clothes, tucked into her bed with her, head on her chest. “That get you in line?” She joked, brushing hair off of your face.

“I don’t know, maybe we’ll have to go again for good measure.” You teased, pressing your nose into her jaw as your lips found her neck again. You left a couple more hickies on the side of her neck that you didn’t hit earlier and she chuckled.

“Why’d’ya like those so much? Looks a little trashy to me.” You sighed. Of course it did, it was a younger group thing, and she was not in your age range.

“Jus’ makin’ what’s mine.” You giggled. She laughed with you, until you were both laughing. Maybe this arrangement wasn’t going to be as bad as you thought it would be.

tags: @ferxanda @skullsbown @watashiwaglr38 @angelllbabyy @rbnvrnxoxo @sweetnfemme @abbyanderswife @ellieshothousewife @2sosa @averysmorgue @ivorydevil @bunbunpudding @beatdariceee @that-one-daydream-you-forgot @jennylettersonsgf @furrytaesss @sunflowerwinds @ghost-queen101 @prettyyyy-girl

[batfamspews]

Bruce: As you all know, this mission is going to be dangerous so I want you guys to pair up. Whoever’s left over will go with me.

Sounds of people shuffling around the room followed by an awkward silence

Jason (only one standing alone without a teammate): …

Jason: Wooooow do I really scare you guys that much? You guys are really going to stick me with that old fart?

Dick: Sorry, Jason. I promised Damian I’d team with him this time.

Damian: Yes. Last time I did a mission with you Todd, you threw me off a building.

Steph: Cassie and I have been dyyyyying to work together for the longest time and this is the first time our schedules have aligned for long enough to do it.

Cass: Nods in agreement Tim: Last time we worked together you called me a nerd the whole time, completely disregard the plan and almost got us both killed.

Duke: I am genuinely just scared of you.

Jason: … You know, all pretty valid points. Looks like it’s you and me, old man.

Bruce *pinching his brow*: I knew this was a bad idea…

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: First Years (-Ortho)

Other parts: Housewardens ; Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Ace Trappola

The argument wasn’t loud—no yelling, no dramatic walkouts—just tense words exchanged with a little too much bite. Ace had been his usual smug self, which, unsurprisingly, only made you more pissed off.

So, rather than continue arguing, you grabbed a blanket, stomped off to the couch, and flopped down with a huff. If he wanted to be insufferable, fine. He could enjoy the bed all to himself.

You had just started arranging the cushions when you heard footsteps.

Then, before you could even process what was happening, a pillow dropped onto the couch beside yours, and Ace casually sprawled out like he had been invited.

You blinked. “Ace??”

He glanced at you, completely at ease. “What? We’re sleeping here tonight, right?”

You stared at him, then at the couch, then back at him. “We?”

Ace, the menace that he was, patted the tiny sliver of space beside him like he hadn’t just hijacked your whole plan.

You gawked at him. “You have an entire bed.”

“Yeah, but you’re here.”

“That’s the point, Ace!”

He had the audacity to grin. “Exactly. So, obviously, I’m here too.”

You gaped at him, absolutely stunned at the sheer level of his nonsense. Meanwhile, he just folded his arms behind his head, getting even more comfortable.

You glared. He grinned wider.

Then, after a long moment, he scratched his cheek, his bravado slipping just a little. “...Okay, maybe I should’ve asked first.” He glanced at you, a little sheepish. “But, uh. I don’t like going to bed when you’re mad at me. So… can I stay?”

The worst part? He actually looked kind of earnest. Like he meant it. Like this wasn’t just another one of his schemes to get his way, but something real.

Your irritation wavered. Damn it.

With a dramatic sigh, you gave in, flopping down beside him.

Ace, the absolute menace, beamed like he had just won the lottery. Then, without missing a beat, he threw an arm around you and pulled you right into his chest.

“You’re insufferable,” you grumbled against his hoodie.

“Mm. But cuddly, right?”

“…Shut up.”

He snickered, pressing a quick, lazy kiss to your forehead. “Love you too.”

And, annoyingly enough, you found yourself smiling as you drifted off—because, as much as he drove you insane, Ace Trappola was impossible to stay mad at.

Deuce Spade

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no dramatic exits—just an exchange of clipped words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Deuce had been tense, his frustration clear in the way he crossed his arms, in the tightness of his jaw. You weren’t much better, snapping back at him until the conversation hit a dead end, leaving you both too stubborn to fix it in the moment.

So, rather than risk making it worse, you grabbed a blanket and went to the couch, throwing yourself onto it with the kind of determination that came from being just annoyed enough to stick to your decision. You adjusted the pillows, tucked the blanket around yourself, and ignored the way the room felt too quiet now.

Behind you, there was a pause. A shuffle of feet. Deuce lingered, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, trying to get comfortable. It didn’t work. The couch was fine, but it wasn’t your bed. And the silence—the weight of the unspoken apology hanging between you—only made it worse.

You half-expected Deuce to just go to bed, to let you sleep off your irritation. But then—soft footsteps. Hesitant, careful. He stopped just behind the couch, lingering for a moment before speaking.

“…Can you come back?”

His voice was quieter now, no longer laced with frustration, just uncertainty.

You didn’t move.

A longer pause. Then, softer, “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, already halfway to turning around, ready to tell him that you were sorry too, that this was stupid, that you just wanted to sleep—

Then you heard it. A quiet sniffle.

Your heart lurched.

You shot up, turning so fast the blanket nearly slipped off. Deuce was standing there, head slightly bowed, arms tense at his sides. He wasn’t crying, not really, but his eyes were red-rimmed, his breathing unsteady, his lips pressed together like he was trying to keep everything in.

Oh.

Your frustration vanished instantly.

“Deuce,” you breathed, already reaching for him.

He stiffened for a moment when your fingers brushed his wrist, but then, slowly, he let you pull him toward the bed. He didn’t argue. Didn’t hesitate. The second you both reached the mattress, you wrapped your arms around him, tugging him close, feeling the way his shoulders finally relaxed under your touch.

His breath shuddered against your skin. He held onto you tightly, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. You squeezed him in return, as he pressed his face into your neck, letting the warmth between you say what words couldn’t.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured after a long moment, his voice quieter, steadier.

You ran your hand down his back, a slow, soothing motion. “Me too.”

His breathing evened out, his grip loosening just slightly. Neither of you spoke after that. There wasn’t a need to. You just held him, letting the warmth settle, letting the tension fade.

Jack Howl

The argument had been sharper than usual—words exchanged with too much heat, frustration lacing every syllable. Jack’s ears had flattened, his tail flicking sharply behind him, while your own patience had worn thin.

Neither of you had raised your voice, but the weight of it had been enough. Enough that when silence finally fell between you, it felt like standing on the edge of something unsteady.

So, in an act of pure pettiness, you had grabbed a blanket and stormed off to the couch, settling in with all the stubborn determination of someone who refused to be the first to cave. You curled up, pulling the blanket tight around yourself, pointedly ignoring the way the room still felt charged with unresolved tension.

For a while, there was nothing. No footsteps following, no hushed words attempting to fix things. Just silence. You shifted, adjusting the pillow beneath your head, exhaling sharply. Fine. If Jack wanted to sleep alone tonight, so be it.

Then—the faintest creak of the floorboards.

You blinked, turning over just enough to peer into the dim light of the living room. Jack was there, sitting stiffly on the couch opposite you, his arms crossed, tail curled loosely around the edge of the cushion. He didn’t look at you directly, his gaze fixed somewhere ahead, expression unreadable.

You furrowed your brows. “…What are you doing?”

His ears twitched. A beat of hesitation. Then, a quiet, gruff reply.

“Go to sleep. I’m just keeping watch.”

Something in your chest ached at that. Even after the argument, after the sharp words exchanged, he was still looking out for you. He always did.

You sighed, sitting up, the tension in your body already loosening. “Jack.”

He glanced at you then, ears flicking back slightly, wary.

Without another word, you stood, dragging the blanket with you as you crossed the room. Jack stiffened slightly when you reached for his wrist, but he didn’t pull away. You tugged, gentle but firm.

“Come back to bed.”

He hesitated. Then, slowly, he let himself be pulled up, following you without resistance.

The moment you both settled back onto the mattress, his tail curled around you instinctively, pulling you just that much closer. The warmth of it, of him, seeped into your skin, comforting in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

A quiet exhale. Then, low, barely above a whisper—

“…I’m sorry.”

You pressed closer, fingers curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt. “I'm sorry too.”

Neither of you said anything after that. There was no need to. The steady rise and fall of his breath, the solid weight of his arm draped over you, the way his tail tightened slightly before finally relaxing—everything else could wait.

For now, this was enough.

Epel Felmier

The argument had spiraled out of control so fast that you barely remembered how it even started. One second, it was just a disagreement—sharp words exchanged, but nothing too serious. And then, all at once, it was a mess, voices raised, frustration bleeding into every syllable.

You had hit your limit first. Not because you didn’t have more to say, but because you were just too tired. Too tired to keep fighting, too tired to keep letting the hurt simmer in your chest. So, without another word, you had grabbed a blanket and settled on the couch, turning your back to the bedroom.

The anger still sat heavy in your stomach, but beneath it, sadness gnawed at the edges. You hated arguing with him. Hated the way silence felt like a wall between you now. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to just sleep through it, to let the exhaustion pull you under.

It worked—for a while.

Then, the sharp clatter of pans yanked you back into consciousness.

You blinked blearily, registering the soft muttering, the sound of something nearly toppling over, the distinct smell of something cooking. Still wrapped in your blanket, you dragged yourself off the couch, stumbling toward the kitchen.

Epel was standing at the stove, back turned to you, gripping a pan with slightly unsteady hands. His hair was still messy from sleep, and even though his voice was quiet, you could hear the edge of frustration in the low curses under his breath.

You hesitated in the doorway, taking in the scene. The counter was a mess, a dish towel discarded haphazardly, the remnants of a nearly-spilled carton of eggs sitting precariously close to the edge.

At the sound of your footsteps, he stiffened slightly. Then, without turning, he muttered, “Go back to bed. I’ll bring it to you.”

His voice was rough, but not unkind. Just strained.

You stepped closer, noticing the way his shoulders were set too tight, the way his fingers clenched the pan handle like he was trying to steady himself. And when he finally turned just enough that you could see his face—he still wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Your heart clenched.

Without thinking, you reached forward, gently prying his fingers from the pan. His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. The moment his hands were free, they hovered awkwardly at his sides—until, in one swift motion, he grabbed you and held on tight.

His arms wrapped around you, his grip desperate, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, breath warm against your skin as he exhaled shakily.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with something heavy. “I shouldn’t’ve pushed you that hard. Shouldn’t’ve let it get that bad.”

You softened instantly, guilt pressing at the edges of your own frustration. You wrapped your arms around him just as tightly, hands smoothing over his back. “I’m sorry too.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just holding onto each other, letting the warmth settle between you.

Then, after a pause, you murmured, “C’mon. You’re gonna burn the eggs.”

Epel let out a small laugh against your shoulder before finally pulling back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, alright.”

You nudged him toward the stove, settling beside him. Together, you finished making breakfast, the quiet weight between you easing with every passing second.

Sebek Zigvolt

The argument had been bad. Worse than usual. Sebek had always been intense, but tonight had been different—his voice sharper, his stance rigid with frustration, his words carrying the weight of something neither of you had been willing to back down from.

So you had done the only thing you could think of before either of you said something you’d truly regret. You left.

Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off to the couch, body still buzzing with leftover adrenaline. You barely managed to settle in before you heard heavy footsteps marching straight toward you.

Then, a firm voice cut through the quiet.

“Take the bed.”

You cracked an eye open, already exhausted. Sebek stood at the edge of the couch, arms crossed, expression unyielding. His stance was as rigid as ever, but there was something beneath the surface—something uncertain, something hesitant.

You exhaled through your nose and turned over, pulling the blanket higher. “Go to sleep, Sebek.”

“I will. Once you’re in the bed where you belong.”

You groaned, but before you could snap at him, he was suddenly kneeling beside the couch, eyes burning with unshaken resolve. His voice dropped lower, quieter, the sharpness softened at the edges.

“A knight cannot allow their beloved to sleep on the couch. It is unbecoming. Please.” His jaw tightened for a moment before he exhaled and added, “I… I should not have let it get this far. I should not have raised my voice at you.” His head bowed slightly, shoulders stiff. “I am sorry.”

You blinked, caught off guard. Sebek was loud. He was brash. He was stubborn beyond reason. But kneeling there, humbled in the quiet glow of the moonlight, his apology raw and unguarded—you felt your own frustration ebb.

Slowly, you sat up, watching the way his hands clenched against his knees. And then, instead of answering, you leaned forward, resting your forehead against his.

Sebek froze.

Then, before he could react, you grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged.

He let out a startled noise as you dragged him onto the couch, his balance thrown as he landed beside you. The couch was too small—he was too tall, too broad, and neither of you fit properly. But you didn’t care.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, pressing against his chest, letting his warmth ease the last remnants of your anger.

Sebek let out a strangled sound, arms hovering as if unsure whether to hold you or allow you to push him away. When you didn’t, when you simply curled closer, his hesitation melted.

With a deep exhale, he shifted, adjusting his position so he could wrap his arms around you. His hold was steady, protective, his warmth seeping into your bones.

“…This couch is entirely unsuitable for sleeping,” he grumbled, but his voice had lost its earlier edge.

You huffed a quiet laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder. “Then go to bed.”

A pause.

“…No.”

You smiled against the fabric of his shirt, and he squeezed you a little tighter. The couch was too small, the position awkward, but as long as he was holding you, it was enough.

Masterlist

[bi-writes]

there's only one rule with them--you have to be included, lest you give simon those big eyes that he absolutely fucking despises. (ghoap x f!reader, 18+)

you can't help it, really. you like being the center of attention. no--you need to be the center of attention.

their attention.

even when you're too fucked out to go any longer, someone has to be paying attention to you. simon has found that even when he's too occupied making johnny's eyes roll back in his head, a firm hand tangled in your hair is enough to keep you smiling all lopsided and ooey-gooey warm. a thumb in your mouth, lips against your temple, just a soft touch is good enough to keep you from blinking up at simon all wet and soft-like.

simon even found out that you have a sixth-sense for knowing if simon touched his sergeant when they were deployed. coming through the door, just seeing them, that pretty bottom lip trembling when you meet johnny's eyes because you just know something happened without you.

it's not that you're jealous. it's not that you don't approve. simon knows you're just so delicate. so sweet. you want to be included and noticed, because no one ever had noticed you at all before them, and you just hate feeling left out. you want to know everything about them, and when something happens without you, you feel like you're missing a special piece of them, and it makes your heart drop into your stomach.

"none of tha'," simon says lowly when he sees your eyes well up, all watery and big.

"i'm sorry--" you whine. it takes johnny between your thighs for a full hour before simon sees you crack a smile again.

simon comes up with a nice solution. he doesn't want to see his perfect girl upset anymore. he won't have it any longer. it isn't allowed.

you put the phone to your ear. it's late, and you're a bit sleepy, but with the ringer on full volume, you're always ready to answer the phone.

"h-hello?"

"'ello, baby." your eyes flutter open at the sound of simon's low drawl, and you giggle sleepily. "oi, wot's so funny?"

"nothing," you whisper. "i miss you."

"i miss you more," simon hums. you hear shuffling in the background, a grunt accompanied by a hiss. "say 'ello to our pretty kitty, johnny."

there's some static, and then you hear panting. a gargled cry sounds, one you recognize, and you grip the phone tight as you stare up at the ceiling. you roll over in a bed that's much too big for just you, and you whine a little.

"j-johnny?"

"fuck--ngghh--'m thinkin' aboot yer pussy, bonnie, lemme 'ear it."

you squeeze your thighs together on instinct. you reach for the pillow next to you, the one that still smells like simon, and you bury your nose into it and whine when you hear the distinct sound of skin slapping against skin.

"lemme 'ear it, willnae come unless--"

"johnny," you mewl, sticking your hand under the shirt you wear. it's simon's (the only shirt that fits over your tits), but you're bare underneath, so it takes you no time at all to break open your thighs and stick your hand between your folds. you don't even go for foreplay; there's no need. you are wet enough to dip your fingers just barely into yourself, scooping up a nice amount of slick and spreading it around, frantic enough that when you put the phone on speaker, the slip, slip, slip of your fingers is audible on the other end.

"och--si, she's...aye, she's soaking."

"tha's my girl."

"come...g-gonna come," you stutter, and johnny groans.

"need ye on my face, kitty cat," he pants, "lemme 'ear, closer, bonnie, get me closer--"

you lower the phone down your body, moving your fingers faster, your toes curling as you arch your back and listen to the wet smack, smack, smack of what you know is simon putting his fucking back into it. his groans follow the movements. simon is always a little rougher with his sergeant, always murmuring about how he can take it, not so sweet like our daisy baby.

"coming!" you gasp, and you press the heel of your hand against your clit as you breathe through your orgasm. so fast this time, hitting you from your toes and traveling all the way up, until your nipples pebble and your heart hammers. you bring the phone back up and bask in the glow of it, giggling dreamily as you listen to simon absolutely ruin your sergeant. skin on skin, nasty grunts and filthy curses, hissing and the sounds of things falling over and breaking. you pocket it for later and memorize it now, cooing softly when you know johnny is close.

you talk him until you hear him come, and then you tell simon to eat it off his gloved fingers for you.

"goodnight, kitty cat."

you smile.

"goodnight."

when they come home again, there you are, seated in the kitchen, all big smiles and soft eyes. simon touches a finger under your chin, and you blink up at him.

"olright?" simon asks, and you nod, picking up his other hand to kiss his knuckles.

"perfect."

[pukicho]

What's the weirdest dream/nightmare you've had?

Pukicho story time???

This happened in 2004, I lived in Ireland. I had one very particular dream that I still often think about to this day:

It started in an unusual flat, somewhere up high. It was modern for the time, it felt decidedly Y2K. Every piece of furniture, the walls, the lamps, they were all bright pink. It was so trendy that it almost felt like a parody of itself, but I was a kid, and my mind wasn't clever enough for the act of parody. I would've simply forgotten this flat ever existed if the latter-half of the dream didn't leave such a permanent mark on my memory - now I can recall every last detail.

I asked a stranger to use the restroom. The toilet was downstairs, so I opened up the door to a utility stairwell and began heading down, alone.

I could look through the center of the staircase column, it was pitch-black and there was no visible bottom. I remember going down the staircase for hours, literal hours - A dark, oppressive hum from pipes and vents blinded my ears and shook the inside of my stomach with its volume. I remember thinking how long the dream felt in this moment, I recall getting consciously impatient, but I kept going. My eyes couldn't adjust to the nearly invisible-darkness surrounding me so I put my hand against the walls and handrail for guidance and shuffled downward like a blind man without his walking-stick.

Finally, only a moment before the tension would have juddered me awake, I found the door to the bathroom. I opened it up; to my relief there was light. The room was rectangular, on one end was a boxed-shaped shower with fogged glass, on the other end, a toilet. The floor and wall were decorated by the same beige tile - it all looked hastily plastered. I sat down to do my business. At this moment, the ballooning anxiety I had felt outside had dissipated almost entirely. I sat in silence - I remember acknowledging the sheer contrast in volume between the AC-hum in the bathroom to the oppressive roar from the stairwell.

It was good to be sitting there. I remember feeling as though the dream had slowly turned into a nightmare - but consciously, everything felt right again. Nothing happened for a long time. It grew so boring and tame that my mind stopped focusing on the dream entirely, and I began fading into memoryless sleep. And then the lights went out.

At this point, sitting in a darkness even blacker than the one I had just emerged from, not even a hum could be heard. The only noise I could hear, and just barely, was my own brain-matter hitting against the sides of my ears, bellowing a deep subharmonic hum from within my own skull. Suddenly, every semblance of safety was ripped from my chest, and I sat there, feeling in greater danger than I ever had before. I felt a pressure so omniscient that it choked me -- but nothing came, nothing happened. I waited for minutes - minutes where each second could be counted down in scrutinizing specificity, but nothing happened.

Suddenly, and with no presumption, I felt coarse electricity pumping through my chest. I wrangled with myself in my own bed, feeling what felt like infinite pain pass through me. I could feel myself yelling from within the dream through the vibration of my lungs. A cacophonous buzzing bled into my ears as thousands of people screamed from within my skull. The cries of a falling choir ran-through their screams, like angels falling from heaven.

At the very same moment, a body appeared in the shower. It glowed yellow, so bright and irradiated I could hardly look directly at it. It caressed itself, clawing into its body like it was reeling from immeasurable pain. It moved unnaturally, squirming and spasming as if fast-forwarded. The glass blurred its details, but it did nothing to mask its energy. It was as if it held the sun inside of its own stomach. I felt as though an intruder entered my own mind and I had no power to stop it. Just being near it was enough to kill me, and I was already dying.

The wall of sound lasted not even one full-second - and then - a piercing zap shot me up from my bed, and that was it. I can't remember anything past that point, but I assume I went back to bed shortly thereafter, forgetting what had just happened, if only for that one night. I must have had a vapid dream, worthless and memoryless, unknowing that I had just lived a dream so dreadful that it'd stick to my psyche like tar for the rest of my life.

No other dream has ever felt that way since. It was as if a second-soul decided to visit me, a soul stronger and more omnipotent than mine. Surely a dream is just a dream, regardless of the feeling it gives you, but now I go to bed every night, wishing I'll be the only soul residing within its story.

End!!

[kateschi]

what goes unsaid

synopsis: you started to notice small things todoroki does, but you’re not sure what they mean just yet.

pairing: timeskip!todoroki shoto x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i listened to you guys

the buzz of the office fades into background noise as you shuffle through the latest batch of mission reports.

your shoulders ache from a particularly rough day in the field, and the stiffness in your neck only serves to remind you of the long hours stretching ahead.

you rub your temples, trying to stave off the impending headache.

“rough day?”

the voice pulls you from your thoughts, low and calm with a subtle edge of concern. shoto todoroki stands in the doorway to your shared agency’s common room, his presence as composed as ever.

his hero uniform is slightly scuffed, evidence of his own busy day. still, his mismatched eyes fix on you, quiet but observant.

“yeah, you could say that,” you reply with a weak smile, closing the folder in front of you. “I’ll be fine, though. just a few reports to finish up.”

without another word, todoroki crosses the room. he places a paper cup on the desk beside you, the warm aroma of your favorite coffee wafting up immediately. you blink, glancing between him and the cup.

“thought you could use this,” he says simply, his tone casual but laced with that understated sincerity that’s so distinctly him.

your lips twitch upward despite yourself. “thanks, todoroki. you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” he replies, his voice steady as he turns to leave.

it’s not the first time he’s done something like this—little gestures that seem small on the surface but hold a surprising amount of thoughtfulness.

you’ve chalked it up to his polite nature, the way he’s always been one to notice when someone needs a hand.

but lately, those gestures seem to happen more often, and each time they do, you can’t help but wonder if there’s more behind them.

a few days later, the intensity of the work begins to weigh on you again. a gruelling mission left you feeling physically and emotionally drained, and your muscles protest every movement you make.

you collapse on the couch in the break room, still in your hero gear, too tired to even think about a shower.

todoroki walks in, fresh from the shower, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. he eyes you for a moment before disappearing into the adjacent kitchenette.

you don’t think much of it until he returns a few minutes later, setting a small ice pack on the table beside you.

“for your shoulder,” he says, nodding toward where you’d been absentmindedly massaging your arm.

you blink, caught off guard by the quiet care in the gesture. “oh, thanks. you didn’t—”

“you overextend that side sometimes,” he interrupts, his voice calm. “you should be careful.”

your mouth opens, but no words come out. instead, you nod, pressing the ice pack against your shoulder as he sits in the chair across from you. the silence that follows is surprisingly comfortable.

you can feel the weight of his gaze occasionally flicking over to you, but it’s not heavy or demanding—more like a quiet understanding, the kind that doesn’t require explanation.

there’s a certain ease between you two, even when neither of you says much.

it’s in the way todoroki always seems to anticipate what you need, how he quietly adjusts the environment around you without ever making a show of it. and for reasons you can’t fully explain, it feels…right.

the moments continue to add up, each one more subtle than the last.

after a long patrol, you find a bottle of water placed carefully on your desk with a note—drink up, you’ve been dehydrated all day.

it’s an obvious thing, but the gesture still feels personal, like he noticed something you hadn’t even considered.

the next day, you’re struggling to get through a particularly difficult set of paperwork when your phone buzzes on the table. you glance at the screen to see a message from him: how’s the report going? 

you smirk at the simplicity of it. he knew exactly what you were doing.

when you reply that you’re about to hit a wall, todoroki doesn’t respond immediately.

but later, when you make your way into the break room for a quick break, there’s a sandwich on the counter—your favorite kind, carefully wrapped in a napkin.

no note this time, just the quiet understanding that he had noticed, even from across the building.

it’s when you’re sitting on the rooftop of the agency a few weeks later that the weight of it all really hits you. the city sprawls out before you, the lights twinkling against the night sky.

you’re lost in your thoughts when the sound of footsteps pulls you back.

todoroki appears at your side, a familiar calmness in his expression. he doesn’t say anything right away, just leans against the railing beside you.

the silence between you is surprisingly comfortable, the kind that doesn’t demand to be filled. you’ve shared enough of these moments that you don’t feel the need to say anything.

“figured you’d be up here,” he says eventually, his gaze still fixed on the horizon.

you glance at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “needed a breather. what about you?”

“same,” he admits. “it’s been a long day.”

there’s something in his voice, a small shift, and for the first time, you realize just how much of an emotional weight he carries.

you’ve always known him to be calm, calculated, and collected, but there’s something more underneath, a pressure he doesn’t always show.

when he looks at you now, there’s something in his eyes—something softer, more open than usual.

“thanks for the coffee earlier,” you say, breaking the silence. “and…everything else. you don’t have to do all that, you know.”

he turns his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours. there’s a flicker of something in his expression, a subtle, almost imperceptible shift. “I know,” he says simply. “but I want to.”

his words hang in the air, quieter and more vulnerable than usual, and for the first time, you see the full weight of what he’s been doing all along.

these small gestures, these little acts of kindness, have been his way of showing something he’s never been able to put into words.

weeks pass, and despite everything happening around you—missions, deadlines, late-night training—there’s a steady rhythm to the way shoto treats you.

he’s never one to speak loudly about his emotions, but the small things he does start to stand out in a way that feels undeniable.

there are days when you catch him looking at you from across the room, his expression slightly more intense than usual.

he doesn’t say anything, but you notice the way his eyes linger a little longer than they should, as if he’s trying to figure something out.

he’s quiet around you, often lost in his thoughts, but when he speaks, it’s always with a softness that’s impossible to ignore.

it’s as if every word he says carries the weight of more than just friendship—though, he’ll never admit it outright.

it’s late one evening when the two of you find yourselves standing side by side in the agency’s common room.

the glow of the lights is soft, the building nearly empty after the day’s work. you’re both exhausted, but neither of you is quite ready to head home.

shoto hands you a fresh towel as you come out of the shower, his movements slow and deliberate. you notice how carefully he looks after even the smallest details:

making sure the towel’s warm and that the temperature in the room is just right.

you take it from him with a soft smile. “you’ve been really nice to me lately.”

shoto pauses, his eyes flicking to yours. there’s an emotion there you can’t quite place, something quiet and unspoken.

“I don’t mind,” he says, his voice steady. “I want to.”

the words hit you harder than you expect, and for a moment, you’re both silent, the air between you charged with something that hasn’t been said aloud but feels clear all the same.

you’ve always known shoto in pieces—quiet, introspective, deeply caring in his own way—but this is different. this is more.

when you step closer, your heart thumping louder than it should, he doesn’t pull away.

instead, he looks down at you, his mismatched eyes soft with something that’s not quite a confession but feels like one all the same.

“I’ve always wanted to be there for you,” he adds quietly, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I just…couldn’t figure out how.”

the quiet honesty of it leaves you breathless, and for a moment, you let the words come freely.

“you’re doing it, shoto,” you say. “you’ve been doing it.”

before either of you can say another word, the space between you seems to shrink of its own accord.

his gaze lingers on yours, and there’s a long moment of quiet before you close the small gap, your breath mingling with his.

his hand lifts, brushing against your cheek, and it’s the gentlest touch, but it sends a warmth through you that settles deep in your chest. without a word, he leans in.

and when his lips meet yours, it’s not forceful, nor is it rushed—it’s as natural as everything else that’s happened between you.

when you pull back, there’s a soft smile on his lips, a look of quiet satisfaction as he rests his forehead against yours.

“guess this makes it official,” you chuckle.

he hums, “yeah.”

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[theorphicangel]

the two of you are on opposite ends of the couch.

it's not unusual to be like this, the two of you have both silently decided on your spaces. you're curled up with a hot cup of steaming cocoa and sukuna is on the other end of the couch scrolling on his phone.

a rerun of a tv show you both watched months ago plays in the background with the lights of the city settling over in the apartment window.

sometimes you're not really sure how to initiate it, how to move closer to him. sukuna is a tough guy to figure out.

he's closed off and unapproachable, some think it's a miracle that the two have ended up in a relationship, questioning how you met and push beyond his boundaries.

but to be honest there's still some awkwardness between the two of you and you often find moments where you hesitate on making the first move.

getting the confidence you stick out a foot towards him and nudge him with your toe.

'mhm' he hums in a low tone without looking up from his phone screen.

you nudge him again and he lets out a sigh before looking at you.

'come closer.'

'you come here.'

'i always go there.'

another sigh leaves his mouth before he gets the energy to shuffle over towards you. immediately you feel his warmth as he wraps an arm around you, careful to make you not spill any hot drink.

'happy now?'

[tashames]

Affection | Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary: You're always extra affectionate with Bob but he thinks you're like that with the rest of the team until the Thunderbolts tell him that's not true

Word Count: 2.9k words

Content: fluff, confessions, physical affection

A/N: I started this 2 days ago and I was still writing while working so hopefully it's good for y'all:) Let me know what you think!

Bob had always thought that your affection towards him was the way you were with everyone. He had seen the way you smack John's shoulder when he says mean jokes to him. Or the way that you would hold Yelena's arm when you both would beg Alexei for something. But he thought that when you held his hand or brushed your fingers through his hair or even cuddled, it was just because you did it with everyone else. But you display of affection towards him was much more than everyone else's.

One early morning in the Tower, Bob had woken up to make some coffee. As he does usually. He hummed himself a little tune, peacefully making the coffee.

Waking early was part of the contract of being a New Avenger. Although you hated it, it was just the way of life around here. You got up sleepily, just wanting to head back to bed already. Shuffling your feet out to hallway, unable to muster the energy to lift them, you end up going to the kitchen first. Seeing Bob standing in front of the coffee pot made your heart swell. You crept up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and nuzzling your face on his back.

"Good morning," you said tiredly. Bob smiles to himself, feeling your warmth combining with his.

"G-Good morning," he responds back. Every morning was the same. He makes coffee while you come up from behind and hug him, not letting go even when he's moving around the kitchen. You won't let go until he gives you a mug with coffee. This morning was the same.

Yelena walks in, seeing the same thing every morning. She smiles to herself and sits down on the stools behind the counter.

"Can I get a mug also? After you give little miss leech hers," she calls out as she sees you hugging him tighter.

"She's not a leech. She just like that", Bob defends you, already pouring two mugs with coffee.

"Leeches stick like that. To every move, like her. A leech", Yelena points out. You just huff in annoyance, pulling away and headed over to the stool next to her. Bob's smile faltered a bit when he felt you pull away. He never wants to accept it but he just wants to hold onto you and never let go. Have you wrapped in his arms and holding you close to his chest.

You sat down on the stool, reaching for your mug and taking a sip. The hot liquid hitting your lips and sliding down your throat as the aftertaste stays on your tongue. You moan at the taste of it, closing your eyes shut. Bob darts his eyes at you, a blush creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. Yelena sips, eyeing both you and Bob.

"You always make the best coffee Bob," you sigh out, placing your mug back on the counter.

"I always do it for you," Bob replies back, sitting down next to you with a mug in his hand. You put your foot with his and swing it a bit. Bob had learned by now that no matter where you two are or whats going on, you will always find a way to be touching him. Either it's both your knees touching or you're leaning your head on his shoulder. You always show affection towards him.

After finishing up your coffee, you head back towards your room to shower and change. Bob headed back towards his, to do the same but also to hide the fact that his heart was racing. His mind was always being occupied by you. Every little touch you gave him, his heart would race. Mind filled with thoughts about you.

Today, you were going to train with Bucky. Although you were a S.H.E.I.L.D agent that got injected by Hydra with the solider serum, you still had to practice. Especially with Bucky. He was always pushing everyone to train.

"You have to keep pushing forward," Bucky says, dodging your punches as if he knew exactly where you were going to hit. You were getting annoyed by the minute. Not hitting Barnes meant a longer training. Just as Bucky is about to throw a punch, you dodge down and kick him in his abdomen with all your force. Bucky stumbles back a bit, holding his side.

"We can uh take a quick break", he coughs out as he walks over to the benches and sits down. You walk towards him, picking up your water bottle before sitting next to him. Shoulders barely touching. Both of you just drinking and breathing hard from the training.

"Do you think we can get pizza later today? I've been craving it since last week", you ask as you turn to look at him. Bucky leans his head against the wall.

"Yeah, we could. It's been awhile since we've had pizza", he responds back.

"I mean last time we had pizza, Alexei threw it to John and it ended up on the ceiling for a week", you laugh out. Bucky chuckles a bit, remembering that day.

Unbeknownst to both of you, Bob had been seeing your interaction. Seeing that you don't lean into him like you do to him. Bob walks away, thinking.

____________

After Yelena had come home from a mission, she had decided to paint your nails, as well as Ava’s. She had found the ‘prettiest blue’ during her mission that she took it and wanted to try it out. Yelena had practically dragged you and Ava out of your rooms and into the living room to start on the nails.

“See, isn’t this the prettiest blue you’ve seen. It’s all shimmery but not sparkly,” she says, holding up the bottle to show you and Ava. Ava had rolled her eyes, but was getting her nails ready to be painted by Yelena.

“I don’t see what the point is in painting our nails. They get chipped and ruined during our missions or trainings anyways,” Ava huffs out. She had already put her hands on Yelena’s lap first. You had started to organize the nail polish that Yelena has been keeping so far, putting them on display for her to pick and choose from quicker.

“It helps enlighten our mood seeing our nails like this. Plus we’re women, we have to embrace our feminity sometimes and we can do that with painting our nails, so which color do you want Ava,” Yelena asks, looking down at the line of nail polish bottles.

“I guess we can do white,” Ava responds back, blowing a piece of hair away from her face. You grab the white bottle, handing it over to Yelena. She opens it and starts to do the process of painting Ava's nails.

“Can you braid my hair for me? I can’t at the moment,” Ava asks, looking at you as she blows another piece of hair that fell onto her face. You nod excitedly. Ava doesn’t let anyone touch her hair unless if she gives them permission or it’s a death-life situation.

You head behind Ava, grabbing her hair from the front and pushing it out to the back. You comb through her hair with your fingers, feeling how smooth and healthy it is. You start from the top of her head, grabbing small pieces of hair and pulling out towards the back. As you start to braid her hair, Yelena had started to talk about how her and Natasha would always paint each other nails when they were younger.

“After school, we would come home to see Dad had bought us new nail polish. We would throw our book bags down and rush to sit at the dining table. Natasha would always paint my nails first then I would paint hers. Although I would always have different colors on each fingers, Natasha would always paint them without ever complaining about my color choices. But she would only go for one solid color for all her fingers. I always thought on how weird it was that she didn’t want to have fun colors on her hands. But now, I understand. Too much colors can be too much for the eyes.” Yelena smiles, remembering her childhood before the Red Room took her away. You and Ava were just sitting and listening peacefully, not wanting to interrupt her memories.

Finishing up Ava’s braid and tying a hair tie at the end, you sat back and admire your work. Your fingers ran down her braid lightly, feeling the bumps.

“Finished with your braid, Ava,” you say as you sit back down on the floor, next to the table where the bottles of nail polish are.

“Thanks. I like to keep it in a braid so it won’t get too messed up when I’m fighting,” Ava says while looking down to her nails.

“That’s why I cut mine. Too much damage and it gets in the way sometimes,” Yelena speaks out, pointing at her hair. You nod slowly, understandingly. Yelena finishes up on Ava’s nails and shoos her away. Already grabbing the color bottle that you want, you hand it over to Yelena before sitting down where Ava just was.

“Wow this is a pretty color too, Nice choice,” Yelena smiles at you, opening the bottle. She grabs your hand endearingly, not wanting to mess up and paint the sides of your fingers with the nail polish.

You can see the way she brings the brush over your nails, almost filling up your nail completely with the color, only going over twice. Her face steady with concentration. It’s already been 9 months since you have first met Yelena but now she feels like an older sister to you. The way she would stop John from pestering you to when she would bring you a bowl of sliced fruit to your room saying ,”We all need fruit in our systems, it makes us stronger.” Even Ava would sometimes just hand you a water bottle during training without saying a word. Being in a tower where it was mostly men walking around and coming along to guide you during missions, it was nice knowing you had two more women around you that had gone through similar experiences. Sticking close to each other was a must at this point, especially when the men living with you ask if it’s that time of month. More specifically, John.

“And finished, now it’s my turn,” Yelena says, closing the bottle and already opening up her new nail polish. You look down at your fingers, seeing how beautiful the color looks. You smile to yourself, maybe Bob would like this color.

Yelena already has her hands down on your lap, getting ready for her nails to be painted. Gently grabbing her hands, also trying not to ruin your freshly painted nails, you start on painting her nails. Doing the same motion as she did before, filling her nails completely with color.

Yelena looks up from watching you paint her nails and sees Bob standing in the kitchen, making himself something.

"Bob what are you making?" Yelena sits up straight and extends her neck, trying to see over you.

"Just some fruit," Bob answers. He starts to take out 3 more small bowls, placing them in a line. He cuts some fruit and places them into the bowl with a fork in the bowl. Carefully, he grabs them and makes his way over to the living room.

Ava looks up to Bob and sees him giving her a bowl. She takes it and thanks him, picking up the fork and sorting out the fruit. Bob looks over to you and sees you holding Yelena's hand. His eyebrows furrow.

"You can place them on the table. We're almost done here." Yelena point over to the table while blowing in her nails to make them dry faster.

You look over to see him doing what she said, gently placing down the bowls. Just as your finishing up her last nail, Bob sits behind you. He peers over your shoulder, seeing your work. You can feel his warm breath on your shoulder. His fingers slightly touching your waist.

" All done." You grin, seeing Yelena looking down at her nails. You lean into Bob, putting your back against his side and sigh. You feel him tense under you for a second.

"You can relax Bob, I'm just trying not to let the paint get ruined on my nails right now," you giggle as you show him your hands.

"W-Wow. They look pretty," Bob complimented. You can feel Bob move for a bit until he finally settles in. He wraps his arms and legs around you, trapping you with his body. Bob brings his hands to yours, grabbing them to look closer.

Both Yelena and Ava turn to each other and share a look. They both get up at the same time, picking up their bowl of fruit.

"I'm just gonna head to my room now." Ava smiled towards us and walked off, phasing away.

"I'm going to go see what Dad is doing cause last I heard, he was teaching John how to play goldfish." Yelena rolled her eyes and winked at you before leaving.

It was quiet but yet peaceful. Bob had been holding you for the past 10 minutes, his head buried in your neck. You had been eating your fruit while watching a show. You love being held by Bob. His warmth felt like a sunny day at the beach. You could feel the way his chest rose and fell back down when breathing. The minute Bob would touch you, you stopped everything and paid attention to him.

Finishing your bowl, you leaned over to place it back on the table but Bob's hold on you tightened.

"Bob, I'm just going to put it back on the table. I'm still going to be here." You turn your head back slightly. The grip on you loosens, letting you finally place the bowl on the table. Once the bowl hit the table, you feel yourself get pulled back into Bob's chest. A smile forms on your lips. Slowly you rubbed his arms, letting him go into a peaceful sleep on you.

___________

Bob had been woken up by the screeching sound of a chair being pulled out. He opens his eyes and looks around. He sits up from the couch and rubbing his eye.

"Did I fall asleep on the couch last night," he asks looking behind him to see everyone except you at the table. Already eating.

"Yeah, you and your other half did," John responds while chewing on his food.

"O-Other half?" Bob gets up from the couch, stretching his arms up. His shirt rides up, exposing his v-line.

"Don't play dumb. You know who. Who else would be cuddling with you?" John goes to drink his coffee while eyeing Bob.

"Well she cuddles with everyone, doesn't she?" Bob walks over to the table and sits down at one of the open chairs, looking over the food options.

"No. She only does that with you Bob. All the holding hands, looking at each other with love eyes, cuddling with each other and the rest of the lovey-dovey shit, that's all you two. She doesn't do that with us," John clarified, rolling his eyes.

Bob looks to everyone, seeing them nod in agreement to what John had just said.

"I just thought thats how she is with everyone," Bob says, remembering the past week of how you barely give physical affection to anyone else but him. Soon his cheeks started to heat up. His heart was pounding rapidly.

"Bob," Bucky says, his voice stern. Everyone stops and looks at Bucky. His arms are crossed against his chest, showing off his biceps.

"Everyone in the whole Tower knows that you two are in love. We can see it very much. Just ask her our already. And don't give me that 'oh what if she doesn't like me' bullshit. She does, trust me." Bucky huffs out.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, he feels hands come up to his shoulders and a kiss on his head. He looks up to see you smiling down to him.

"He's not wrong you know. Since the moment that we first moved in and you helped me with decorating my room, that's when my feelings started to develop," you admitted. A blush coming to your cheeks. Just staring into Bob's glistening eyes. A beautiful dark brown that you can never get enough of.

"Ugh just kiss already," Ava rolled her eyes and continued eating.

"KISS! KISS! KISS," Alexei started to shout out, banging the table hard that it started to make it jump. Everyone else tuned in with him, chanting it.

You close your eyes, leaning down to Bob. Your lips meet his, a soft but yet loving kiss was placed on his lips. Just as your about to pull away, Bob's hands come up to the your face and pulls you back down. He connects to your lips again. This kiss had a more exciting spark in it. Everyone around you shouted in excitement.

"Finally!" Everyone yells as you smile against Bob's lips.

Pulling away from each other, Bob smiles genuinely.

"Do you want to be mine?"

"I'm already yours."

[fayevalentiinee]

When Gojo Satoru walked in the bathroom, to see if you were ready, he didn’t expect to find a scene straight out of a meltdown — a horrific sight of you standing frozen in front of the mirror, tears streaming down your cheeks, hair undone, and a catastrophic pile of clothes scattered across the room.

The sound of Gojo Satoru’s long strides echoed softly against the hallway floor as he made his way toward the bathroom door, his voice carrying that familiar mix of impatience and teasing frustration.

“Babe, are you ready ye—” he called out, his tone slightly annoyed from the wait. He didn’t bother knocking — he never did, no matter how many times you’d told him to. As always, his curiosity got the better of him.

But the scene that greeted him silenced him instantly.

It was like a horror movie — one that delivered a clear message: only speak if you’re spoken to.

There you stood, bathed in the warm glow of the bathroom light, completely still — your reflection staring back at you like a stranger. The world around you had melted into the background. The only sound filling the space was the upbeat thump of a song playing far too cheerfully from the speaker on the counter. A cruel contrast to the heartbreak etched across your face.

Tears clung to your lashes before falling, tracing ruined rivers down your cheeks. Your eyeliner was smudged, mascara pooled like shadows beneath your eyes, and the once flawless layer of foundation cracked as each teardrop carved a path through it.

Your hair was still undone — tangled, untouched, despite how long you’d been getting ready. Gojo, confused, slowly peeked his head back out, his eyes flicking toward the open closet across the room. The chaos was telling — clothes strewn everywhere, hangers tossed aside in frustration. His gaze shifted to the chair where you always laid out your outfit ahead of time, the space now hauntingly empty.

Ah.

So that’s what was going on.

This is what he saw when scrolling through your TikTok — the videos that joked about “when your makeup isn’t makeuping, hair isn’t hairing, outfit not outfitting, body isn't bodying, and you have to go out in 5 minutes, female rage.”

His eyes returned to you — your red, blotchy face, tiny hairs sticking to your damp forehead, the weight of it all clinging to your body like a second skin. Overwhelmed. That was the word that came to his mind. You looked… overwhelmed.

The music reached its beat drop — sharp, vibrant, and utterly oblivious to the scene playing out.

And there you stood, shoulders slumped, not dancing or singing, just utterly defeated. Beaten by a moment that should’ve felt fun.

“Hey, hey... hey,” he murmured gently, his voice sweet as honey, smooth and low, wrapped in concern as he shuffled into the bathroom with quiet urgency.

Without hesitation, his long arms slid around your waist from behind, wrapping you in a warmth that contrasted the cold silence clinging to you like fog. His chin brushed against your shoulder as he held you there— steady, grounding, while your body remained frozen in front of the mirror.

He didn’t rush you. Just pressed soft circles into your sides with the pads of his thumbs, like he was trying to massage the sadness out of your skin, then placed a trail of kisses along your neck to your shoulder — soft, gentle, and loving.

“Let’s breathe, yeah?” he whispered into your ear, his breath tickling your skin. His voice was no longer impatient — just gentle, coaxing, like the hush of rain against the glass.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

He felt the way your body slumped beneath his hold, like a house trying to stand upright through a storm.

“I was coming in to tell you…” he started, lips brushing your temple now, “I’m not in the mood anymore. Outing? People? All that noise?” He shook his head, pulling you just a little closer. “Not today. Not for us, baby. Mm?”

His hands moved to your arms, gliding up and down in slow, comforting strokes as if trying to rewarm your soul.

“I’ll order takeout,” he said softly, “put on that movie you’ve been wanting to watch—the one you keep pretending you’re not excited about.” His smile ghosted against your cheek. “Good plan, right?”

He grabbed a hair tie from the counter and gently began to gather your hair, pulling it up and away from the sweat damp strands sticking to your face. Then, with care, he wiped away your makeup, peppering your face with soft kisses to every spot he wiped away as he murmured a string of gentle words like,

“You’re so beautiful. So pretty. So lovely...so sexy.“

In that moment — even with ruined makeup and messy hair — you didn’t feel like a disaster anymore; you felt held, felt home, and you didn’t need to utter a single word.

Saw this in a tiktok and had to write gojo in this situation LMAO // mlist. -> here

[nightingale-prompts]

Phantom is so Moody-DCxDP prompt

"I don't even understand what I am. I'm a clone so I can't age. But what does it even mean to be a clone? I'm not 100% Superman but I'm still nit like him or Lex? I wasn't born like a normal person so does that mean I don't have a soul?" Kon ranted.

Danny the multi-dimensional godlike being the team had contracted into being their aid slowly shuffled from under his mountain of blankets and pillows and yawned.

"What are you talking about?" He drawled lazily. "Of course you have a soul.

"But I'm like artificially made in a lab." Kon retorted.

"And? So what? Are you telling me I'm wrong?" Danny challenged " Hey stupid, everything has a soul. You, your friends, animals, a tree, a fucking blade of grass, even a kid's toy. If it has energy it has a soul. I'm not talking metaphorically, I mean literally. Souls are a real tangible thing and I will eat your soul if you don't put some food on my sacrificial altar. Also, get therapy."

Kon much like the others had gotten used to Danny. He was mostly all bark and no bite.

As Kon headed to the kitchen to get the god his post-nap snack he heard Danny speak again.

"Also, you can age. Who told you that you couldn't? Age isn't anything but the slow decay of atoms. You are aging. You just aren't changing because your body is so new. Given enough years it'll start to show. Then you'll be no different from anyone else. Granted Superman's race also grows differently. You are so fucking dramatic. You are fine the way you are." The godling huffed, "Ancients, you guys are annoying. You treat existence like it's torture and you'll bearly understand how blessed you are to exist simply because of how un-ideal it is. Look shit sucks, it sucks most of the time but human suffering is caused by humans. You are torturing yourself with all these what-ifs and angst. Just stop caring."

Danny wasn't saying all this to be comforting. He rarely does stuff like that. If anything he was ambivalent to Kon. It still made him feel better though. One thing you could trust about Danny was that he was honest. He could even be helpful considering his job was to be a living encyclopedia of information from beyond the pale. He has always been an asset if you can wake him up from his days long naps.

****

"You sleep all the time." Raven complained.

The Titans were here this time. They needed something from Danny. Something about having to seal a threat away.

"Just death being shy." Danny mumbled curling up on his raised platform. "Now go away."

Raven pulled out a smudge stick of white sage when Nightwing silently held up a hand to stop her.

"Phantom, look we need your help. This issue needs your assistance. We just want info on how to seal this threat properly." Nightwing said.

"Ask Constantine."Danny whined back as he shuffled deeper into his blanket cocoon.

"Unfortunately he can't help. This is Darkseid—"

"WHERE IS HE?"

Immediately he was wide awake. You see there are few things to stir Phantom to his full attention. He isn't inactive out of pure laziness. He lets the hero do their thing and he helps when he thinks it's appropriate. But he will not let anything or anyone harm the planet

*****

"He really doesn't like people," Impulse whispered to Aqualad.

"I still don't understand how the Justice League managed to get in contact with him let alone sign a contract with him. " Aqualad answered.

"Flash said he was pretty easy to convince. Hell he said that Phantom was so docile he let Wonder Woman carry him around. Now he'll practically snap of your hand if you touch him."

"Emm...think about it he must have just been really weak back then. If he was injured badly enough maybe he—"

"Stop talking."

*****

"I still don't trust you. What is your game?" Raven said sternly.

A being with origins like Phantom couldn't really be helping them out of the kindness of his heart. What did he gain from this contract.

"You assume you are worth games."

"Were you sent by my father?"

"Your father, Trigon? That nuisance? A petty demon like that having any say over me? I'd crush him if I ever saw him. He claims to have conquered a billion worlds. That alone makes me want to destroy him. No one OWNS a world. If anything I own all worlds. No one touches my universe, all universes are mine. And if people would just stop touching my stuff I wouldn't be here." Phantom growled furiously.

"So you are just like him." Raven hissed in anger.

"Like I said. I own it. It is my domain. My realm. So no one can destroy it. No one can control it. I make it. Every star, every planet, every person is a product of chaos. It is the universal law. I keep my chaos in check. Trigon, Darkseid, Anti-Monitor—I don't care. If they touch what is mine I will destroy them."

"Anti-Monitor?"

Phantom curled his lip in anger then relaxed.

"He is someone you don't need to be concerned about. Not anymore." Phantom sighed. "Just know; I don't care what you think of me. I only care about keeping things the way they should be. I'd prefer if you didn't trust me."

Raven narrowed her eyes in thought before she relaxed. Then a small smile appeared on her lips.

"No. I think I can trust you."

Phantom immediately frowned. This wasn't the response he wanted.

"I think you are doing this on purpose. I think you want us to dislike you." Raven teased "Phantom do you perhaps have a heart?"

Phantom just sighed, his cheeks were greenish hue. He was blushing. Then went back to his dais to sleep.

****

Phantom was certainly a prickly guy. He was sweet deep down. Everyone could tell after a while. It didn't help that Wonder Woman always gave as good as she got.

"Answer the question Phantom. No cryptic riddles either." She said climbing the dias.

Phantom scrambled to escape as she grabbed him by the ankle and held him upside down.

"That's not fair! Kronos said I didn't have to answer this one. I have permission to tell you wherever I feel like."

"Oh? Then how about not having snacks on your offering plate? We'll burn nothing but vegetables until you tell me."

"How dare you! That's child abuse. You'll be starving me."

"You don't even need to eat."

"I still taste everything you burn. That's force-feeding. That's bad too."

"Just tell me!"

"Fine!" Phantom grumbled "Trevor Barnes...didn't pass over yet. He waits for you in the realms between. You shouldn't know that though. He doesn't want you to know."

"Why wouldn't he—"

"Because he wants you to live for yourself. He wants you to love again. You have a long life ahead of you and he didn't want to hold you back with his memory. Although he contradicted himself because he still wants you to think of him fondly."

Phantom phased through Diana's grasp and retreated to his lair.

****

Phantom was like a stray cat or maybe a spoiled one. He was wary of most people.

But even the most moody cat likes at least one person.

"Phantom I—"

"What do you need?"

Tim had entered the chamber only half expecting Phantom to be awake. Though Phantom was always awake when Tim entered. He guessed he was lucky since he didn't have talk to empty space.

"Eh, nothing. I got put on sacrifice duty. I brought some Bat Burger and cookies from home. I'm warning you now that Wonder Woman said you have to eat a serving of vegetables. So I'm burning them first." Tim placed the steamed vegetables on the offering plate and before he tossed them into the green fire he felt the cold hand of Phantom wrap around him.

"Don't." He said softly.

"It's just broccoli and cauliflower," Tim said still putting it on the electrum disk.

"Don't wanna," Phantom whined petulantly holding Tim in place. His head buried in his shoulder.

"You big baby." Tim sighed.

If anyone saw this interaction they'd be disgusted. The oh-so-great and moody god is l acting like a soft and pitiful little guy. Phantom seemed to have such a unique fascination with Red Robin. To the point he acts completely different if Tim was in the room.

"Two-faced." Kon mumbled as he watched Phantom readily answered Red Robin's every question without complaint.

"He's always like that," Tim said afterward " It's probably because I was the one to help form the contract with him when he was summoned here. The League treated him like a threat when it wasn't his fault he was here. He just wants to keep his distance but he is the same age as us."

"He is?" Kon asked astonished.

[vividxpages]

"you, forever."

pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

words: 2.6k

summary: Bucky thinks if he gives this whole congressman thing some more months, he’ll might be okay with this new kind of lifestyle. Everything for the mission, right? But he just can’t bring himself to accept the fact that he keeps missing out on the evenings with you.

a/n: I just love this man so damn much, the hyperfixation that started with watching my first ever Marvel movie (Civil War - I had no idea wtf was going on except for that this Bucky guy is super hot) is back in full force. Let me know what you think! ♡ and thank you for reading. ao3 version.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

On a Thursday night, Bucky spontaneously decided home was wherever your fluffy pink carpet slippers greeted him.

Just behind the doorstep they sat, perfectly chaotic and not where they belonged on the shoe rack right next to them, just as you liked it. He smiled down at the sight, careful not to trip over your bag on the floor as he closed the door behind himself and locked it for the night.

He had been up since six in the morning, attended seven meetings – felt useless in five of them – and ran on nothing but caffeine and pure stubbornness to get Val’s ass in the meantime. In the afternoon, he had not managed to get out of some talks and now it was dark outside and the day was close to being over.

Given his history, he had seen worse days.

Far worse.

But yet, the ache in his chest was close to being unbearable. 

He soundlessly kicked off his shoes, willing his shoulders to relax as he listened to the quietness of the apartment. Bucky longed for the one precious thing in his life he held onto after days like this one.

You.

He shuffled out of his jacket, too, abandoning it together with his leather bag and quietly made his way into the spacious kitchen. Evidence of your love for him waited just in sight on the counter and Bucky’s heart both clenched in pain and fluttered in adoration for you.

By the sink, he spotted a wine glass, the rim shiny and rosy from your lip gloss. Your empty plate stood in the sink, forgotten and doomed to be a task for another day. But right in front of him was the other half of dinner, meant for him and still waiting, a bowl full to the brim with a delicious greasy pasta and a red sticky note right next to it.

Eat up! :) I love you xx

The cherry on top was a glazed sugar cinnamon roll from the bakery you both loved so much.

Fuck, his heart was so fucking full of love for you, why did he still screw up like this? 

He had missed dinner. Bucky let out a sigh, exhausted and regretting yet another evening he had not been able to spend with you and impulsively grabbed the cinnamon roll, the sweetness exploding on his tongue. A picture of you flashed through his mind, sticking out your tongue at him when he had laughed about the sugar crumbs coating your nose. He would’ve loved to share this sweet treat with you, earlier and in the coziness of his and your home, together.

The frustration simmering just underneath his skin flared up and if it hadn’t been midnight and you probably weren’t in bed already, Bucky would’ve groaned.

When he had signed up for this, although his true reasons were slightly different from the official statement he gave to the press, he thought: normality – after so many years, he had finally reached it. (Sam had joked at some point that he needed a white picket fence now. Bucky had told him to fuck off.)

With a job like this, although he was still in kid’s shoes, he could be able to live an average life for a while. And a life with lots of time for the girl he loved.

Now, a few months later, he wasn’t so sure about it anymore.

He put down the cinnamon roll and decided to take a shower first before he’d heat up the pasta and finally crawl into bed to you. If he’d wake you now, he would not be able to forgive himself. Bucky’s thumb brushed over your handwriting once more before he slid into the dimly lit living room.

His heart, usually steeled when he went out of the door in the mornings, softened instantly at the sight presented to him.

You were curled up underneath a soft, knitted blanket, your chest rising and falling peacefully. You were still facing the hallway and Bucky couldn’t linger too long at the thought that you might’ve sat there and waited for hours for him to come home to you after your lonely dinner.

He first recognized one of his hoodies on you and your beautifully heated cheeks. Your naked legs were hidden beneath the comfy blanket, but he spotted your favorite pair of fuzzy socks on you and how you slept on his side of the couch, where the pillows smelled like him.

The TV was not running  - you were a books and boardgames kind of girl and over time had built an impressive collection Bucky oh so gladly sacrificed shelf space for. (Although today, no game box on the bookshelf was out of place. You didn’t own any games that could be played alone.)

For tonight, you had grabbed one of your books Bucky had gotten you on a bookshop date recently. Bucky had once glimpsed into it when you couldn’t stop squealing about it. It was filthy as fuck. He had been shocked that something with such a whimsical cover could be so dirty on the inside… But that author’s idea with the ties, the blindfold and the ice had been pretty fucking great.

Bucky stood very still, his eyes lovingly flickering over your calm features. Your rosy lips were slightly parted and a loose strand of hair had escaped and threatened to fall into your mouth. One of your hands was holding on to the collar of his sweater as if you had tried to fall asleep with his scent close to your senses.

There you were – his girl, his world, his everything.

He took a shuddering breath, snapping himself out of his brooding and silently stepping closer until he could bend down and carefully snake his arms around you. You let out a small sound in your sleep, not stirring unlike something else a little further down.

A protesting mrrrow! came from underneath the blanket and suddenly, a tiny white lightning shot out from the coziness and looked at him with outrage sparkling in her eyes.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth lifted.

At least Alpine was there for you… “Good girl.” He whispered to her and with it, the cat proudly snuggled up in his armchair and the girl in his arms sighed happily in her sleep.

God, he had missed you.

Somehow, although it was contradicting and should probably be mentioned to his therapist, this would be easier for him if you were furious with him. For missing dinner, for sometimes slipping only into bed late at night, for brooding over breakfast when his brain repeated a stupid thing he had said in front of cameras again and again and again.

But the thing was this. His girl was the gentlest person he knew. And never once had you been angry with him since he took up this job. Angry at stupid reporters? For sure. Angry at Valentina for being a lying cunt? (Your words, not his.) Definitely.

And even now, after another evening spent alone, your beautiful face was free from any frown. Bucky freed your legs from the blanket and effortlessly lifted you into his arms before he started to carry you towards your shared bedroom.

“Bucky?” You murmured sleepily just as he stepped over the threshold with you, his heart wanting to melt at your small voice thick with sleep.

“Shh, it’s just me, doll.” He replied quietly and pressed a light kiss to your temple. “Just got home. I’m putting you to bed, so you can be comfy, okay? Go back to sleep, it’s alright.”

You let out an unashamed yawn against his neck, the warm breath tickling his skin as your hand held on to the front of his shirt. Today at a short lunch, he had managed to spill sauce over it, but you didn’t seem to care much.

He reached the bed with you, holding you to his chest while he quickly drew back the covers with his other arm so he could gently place you down. He watched as your body melted into the bedding, the way you snuggled right into it similar to how Alpine looked when she cuddled with him. For the first time today, a real smile tugged at his lips.

“Did you eat?” You asked quietly, your cheek resting on his pillow as you rubbed your eyes.

His heart stung yet again. “I will, in a minute. Thank you for leaving me some. It looks amazing, I’m just going to change and-“

You let out a protesting whine when he tried to step back towards the attached bathroom, your hand quick to shoot out and grab his wrist. Bucky then saw something in your eyes you didn’t show often. Pleading.

“I’ll be right with you, I promise.” He said, lifting your hand to his lips to kiss every single knuckle of yours. Four silent promises. I’ll be better, I’ll be better, I’ll be… “I’ll keep the door open so you can see me, okay?”

That, you could tolerate.

Within the next few minutes, he somehow managed to slip into some new boxers and a sleep shirt while also eating your homemade pasta bowl, his clumsy multi-tasking all happening under your watchful eye. He smiled at you from time to time, his own exhaustion tugging at him and luring him into bed with you.

“It was delicious. You’re the best cook in the world, doll.” Bucky said and the bruising feeling in his heart intensified over how much he wished he would’ve been home earlier and able to say it over the dinner table to you. Maybe you would’ve slow-danced in the kitchen together after he’d done the dishes. Now, he’d never find out…

You beamed sleepily at his compliment, a satisfied smile on your face as you shifted and made space for him underneath the covers.

Something in him that always ran and never stopped came to a temporary halt as he found his place next to you. The sheets and your warmth were familiar to him as a quick grab to his gun holster, although altogether violently different.

You sighed happily as he put his arm around you and drew you to his chest, your body fitting perfectly against his side. He knew the hills and valleys of your body in and out, was a master at knowing what the smallest reaction from you meant and right now, everything about you was at ease. Finally.

Bucky silently kept track of your breath, noticing how it became more even as the time passed between you. He had tucked you in against him and your head rested on his chest, one warm hand splayed out on his stomach.

Mine, you seemed to say.

Yours, Bucky thought.

“I’m sorry for missing dinner.” He spoke regretfully into the dark space of the bedroom. You weren’t asleep yet, he could tell. He knew exactly how you breathed, how it hitched when you were thinking about something and how you sounded when he was kissing you, making love to you…and now, you were bedded on his chest, listening.

You moved, turning in his arms and needing the embrace to be closer. Rubbing your cheek against the soft fabric of his sleeping shirt, you murmured: “’s okay.”

“It’s not. You cooked.”

“I can cook again tomorrow.” It was between a statement and a question. Would he be here tomorrow?

“I would love that.” He whispered softly, his hand going in smooth and slow circles over your back. “But it’s not the point. I haven’t been a good boyfriend lately…”

You frowned at him. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true though.”

“No.”

“Doll-“

“It’s not true.”

“You deserve better-“

“Bucky.” The sudden sternness in your voice shut him up and your hand came to rest on his nape, drawing him down so his eyes could lock with yours. “No. You’re here now and that’s all that matters to me. You’re not less just because we’re not spending all twenty-four hours of the day together, although that literally sounds like heaven to me, okay? What you’re doing is important and I would never hold it against you.”

“You’re the most important to me.” He argued without force, sounding sad even to his own ears.

Something in you seemed to melt and you shuffled up so you could hold his cheek and kiss his forehead, then his lips, light as a butterfly. He chased your taste, a unique mix of your lip mask and the sweet treat of earlier, but you weren’t done yet.

“And you’re the most important one to me.” You replied gently, your smile so blinding with love for him, he almost would’ve looked away if he wasn’t so dependent on it, your happiness. “I’m not angry with you. So you shouldn’t be angry with yourself either. And as long as you come home to me at the end of the day, I’m the happiest you could make me, okay? It’s you, forever, Bucky.”

“Fuck, I love you so much.” He croaked, his strong arms wrapping themselves around your middle again to draw you impossibly close. You hummed in agreement, smiling against his neck as he buried his face in yours, breathing in the scent of your lingering perfume and body lotion. Your legs naturally tangled together with his and above the blankets it might’ve looked like you were melting together with him.

“I love you.” You whispered, like it was a cherished secret. “We’re okay. We’re always going to be okay together, yeah?”

“Yeah…” What good had he ever done to deserve the angel laying in his arms? “Okay, doll. Okay.”

You relaxed again, throwing one leg over his side and clinging to him like a lifeline. Behind your back, an oversized round plushie that usually took that job when he had to be out for the evening lay abandoned, or Alpine, who he could always rely on.

But god, was he happy that he was the one who got to hold you tonight.

Bucky listened to the sound of you slowly drifting towards a well-deserved sleep again, his thumb drawing smooth little circles into your shoulder, fingers occasionally slipping into your hair or softly scratching your scalp the way you liked it. He watched the shadows your lashes drew onto your cheeks, counted your freckles and the rise and fall of your chest until his eyes drooped for the first time.

“I don’t know if this job is for me…” He mumbled underneath his breath, tired and talking more to himself than you.

The blanket you shared rustled one more time as you lifted your chin and gently kissed his tense jaw, making it unclench. Your eyes were still closed when you said: “Then we’ll figure it out together, Buck.”

He let out a deep breath, the last bit of tension leaving his body at your simple affirmation and finally settling in for sleep with you.

Tomorrow, he’d cancel the meeting first thing. And he’d make a good and long breakfast for you with all the things you enjoyed. Maybe he’d take you to the quiet little park you both loved so much, hidden behind some old townhouses in Brooklyn. He’d go to the bookshops with you and carry your bags and in the evening, he’d make love to you for hours until your hearts beat in sync just like now.

Bucky knew you didn’t need him to, but he was going to make up for the time you’d been without him.

Your breath evened out and your hand in his became blissfully limp, protected and without a worry in the world with him close by. He kissed your temple one more time before he allowed his own eyes to close.

Bucky wasn’t sure about a lot of things in his life, but he was sure about you in it.

And he knew, however this life would look for him in the future, you would always be by his side, unflinching and fearless.

The love of his life and his forever.

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