#Streaming Equipment Guide

[uvaldecomputerrepairsstuff]

A Beginner's Guide to Streaming: Unveiling the Power of OBS Software and Hardware Encoding

Introduction In today’s digital age, streaming has become an increasingly popular way to connect, share content, and interact with a global audience. Whether you’re an aspiring gamer, a talented musician, or a knowledgeable creator, streaming allows you to showcase your talents and engage with viewers in real-time. To embark on this exciting journey, you’ll need the right tools and knowledge. In…

[seohabibi]

Learn how to set up and use YouTube Live, from creating a live stream to interacting with your audience.

[screechingdefendorpuppy-blog]

Streaming nightmare.

Streamer!vi x reader

Notes: established relationship, vi is streaming a horror game and is so focused she doesnt realize her gf’s presence till it’s too late.

Any mistakes are mine, not proofread.

Based off this tiktok.

“Are you sure about this hun?” You ask her as she downloads the game. “You don’t necessarily have the best track record with scary stuff.”

She tsk and turns to you “Come one babe, Powder lets Isha play this game im sure it will be fine!”

You look at her skeptically as you read the name of it “Resident evil village. Mmmm I don’t vi, I mean Isha is way better at the haunted houses we go to on Halloween than you.”

She dramatically gasp “Now thats rude! Plus everyone hates clowns!” Pouting at you.

“And plus Isha is just at a whole other level than most kids. You can tell she’s powders kid.” She finishes as she turns back to her equipment. You shake your head but let it go.

“Ok well here is some water and a few snacks.” You tell her as she is setting up her stream.

“Thank you baby.” She kisses your temple as she continues to fix the camera angle.

“I’m off to the store is there anything else you would like before I leave?” You stop at the doorframe waiting for an answer.

“Mmmm oh! Could you bring my usual from Jeriko’s? I’ve been craving it for weeks now.” She says big powder blue eyes looking at you. Even though she knows you would never deny her anything she likes to throw in her puppy eyes just in case.

Chuckling you say “Alright hun, I shouldn’t take long. Bye I love you”

“Love you more!” She shouts after you as you exit.

——————

You sigh as you push the door open balancing the take out and small grocery bags of things that you were running low on.

Your grey cat midnight comes over immediately to inspect the haul you bring. You push her gently to guide her forward down the hall way.

Finally in the kitchen you put all the bags on the counter top. You take a minute to properly greet your fur baby giving her the scritches she demands.

Once she leaves satisfied, you set to work on putting everything away. Once done you decide to check on vi.

It is very rare that you appear in her streams. You usually like to stay off camera. Making sure she has water and something to snack on. At times even to remind her that she is past her scheduled time to stream.

As you walk down towards her streaming room you notice the lack of lights. You shake your head, you and vi had made it a compromise to at least leave one light on while she played any scary games. Mostly to give her a sense of security once she is done. This time tho it seems your Gf has forgotten to do just that.

Slowly you enter the room that is only illuminated by her computer screen and lighting for the camera. You make you way over as she continues to talk to her viewers.

“I mean it is a bit spooky.” She says as she moves her character along the screen. I reach her side and notice she is yet to notice you. You wave at the camera saying hello to her subscribers.

The chat blows up with greetings to you but she doesn’t notice. You bend down to her level and look at her.

“Hello?” She says laser focused on her game. So you respond.

“Hello”

Immediately the most high pitched scream leaves her as she jumps clean out of her chair. Taking the headphones with her and controller flying out of her hands.

You jump at the reaction, hands flying towards your mouth. You look at her as a laugh bubbles up inside you. “Are you ok?” You ask through the laughter.

“YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT ME!!!” She yells as she starts to sit up. She looks over at the screen and sees chat bubbles flying across the screen. Laughing at her predicament.

You start laughing even more when you look at the window that shows her in the stream. After the jump and fall the camera tilted a bit from the commotion.

On the screen you see yourself standing where she had been a few seconds ago. Vi on the other hand was on the bottom of the screen. Only the top of her head and eyes in view. Only thing her viewers see is her laughing Gf and her annoyed eyes with a skewed headset on her.

[batmen-and-birds]

Jason is 100% sure that the manor is haunted. He doesn't believe or thinks it is he KNOWS. It wanders the manor halls at day, the gardens during storms and the batcave at night. And it's not like the others in the family don't believe in magic either, they know it exists too!

But when he tells them that the manors haunted it's always "No way, Jason!" And "Are you sure it wasn't Drake wandering the halls, Todd?"

So he calls all his siblings to his apartment because honestly, the ghost is becoming more of bother than Bruce when Jason is visiting and that's just ridiculous. This time he backs up his claims with proof.

The others are convinced...barely, but they are willing to hear him out and go along with his plan to exorcise it. The demon brat may have some doubts but considering Jason does have the most experience with those things (death and demon killing, flaming swords do make great arguments), he relents.

They go he whole nine yards for it, Ouija Board, holy water, incense , ghost detector etc.. They make their way to the manor and start.

Then, after weeks of bothering Jason, it doesn't even show up! Tim and Cass start to mock him. Steph starts a Livestream, since she finds the whole thing is too funny not to put on the Internet. Damian and Duke think Jason's hallucinating. And Dick is trying to cheer him up, which is honestly much more insulting.

That is until Duke abruptly stops laughing and Tim's ghost detector goes haywire. The light start flickering and Steph can see a figure on her screen before it appears in the middle of the room.

There's a thunderstorm outside, the furniture is shaking and everyone someone is screaming. Jason debates on summoning the All-Blades or simply throwing his can of holy water at the specter, when everything goes to normal and Bruce steps into the room.

The man takes a look at them,the equipment and out of place furniture, "What are you doing?"

"Oh my God Bruce, the manors fucking haunted!", Duke screeches and gestures at where the specter was.

"Okay, and what are you doing?", The sigh that comes out of the man sounds so tired as he massages his brows.

Great, Jason thinks, this is the part where the parents brush off their kids concerns, turn back around and they have to deal with it themselves.

Damian puffs out his chest, putting on a brave face, "We're currently at the process of exorcising the apparition!"

Their father looks at them, where they last saw the ghost and back at them. Then in the flattest tone imaginable, "No."

"NO!?"

"I'm not gonna let you exorcise uncle Joshua", Bruce informs them, like having a relative haunt you is normal.

"You had an uncle named Joshua?", Tim asked, as if not being in the know of obscure Wayne Family Trivia was a crime.

"I don't. He's my great-great-great-great granduncle, but that's a mouthful."

Dick huffed, "Bruce. Love you but what the hell! You knew there was a ghost here and didn't tell us?"

"Why are you complaining, Dick. You've met him"

"No I didn't!"

"You did, he saved you by guiding you back to the manor when you were lost during that snowstorm."

"I thought I hallucinated that", at that the Ouija key moved to 'NO', while everyone was standing at least a foot away.

"Well you didn't. Now get this stuff out of my house and apologize. He's been keeping these grounds as free from magical influences as possible.", Bruce ordered and then stopped Damian from touching the board, "Leave the Ouija board, he seems to like it."

While everyone started packing the exorcism stuff away Jason turned to look at Stephanie's phone. The very phone that streamed the entirety of what just happened. Oh no, the Internet is gonna have a field trip with this one.

[yannawayne]

ii. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Mild sexual jokes, Making out AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

“Hey, I’m Jason. Don’t freak out, but I think he’s cheating on you.”

Damian’s protest was immediate and alarmed. “I am not! Todd!”

Jason waved a dismissive hand, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Pretty sure I saw him with some redhead just last week—”

In the background, the distinct clink of Damian’s katanas being unsheathed was audible. The phone jerked violently as the struggle intensified, Tim’s voice cutting in with panic. “Alright, alright! Don’t stab him! Here’s your phone back.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Monday, 11:15 PM - ???, Gotham City.

THE METAL DOOR GROANED as it was forced open, releasing a cloud of dust that sent you into a brief coughing fit. Selina chuckled softly, her figure silhouetted against the dim light filtering through the grime-coated windows. She stepped inside, her movements graceful, each footfall echoing in the vast emptiness of the warehouse.

"One of my safehouses," she explained, the door clanging shut with a heavy thud behind you both. "Secluded, off the grid."

The walls were lined with old crates and rusting metal shelves, their contents long forgotten. Selina flicked a switch, and a single, flickering bulb sputtered to life, casting a dim, yellowish hue over the room.

"We can lay low here for a while. Think of this as your personal hideout," she added, brushing dust off a table. "No one knows about this place—not even Batman."

You hummed in acknowledgment, your eyes scanning the room. The space had clearly fallen into neglect, the floor scattered with debris, and the windows fogged with years of grime. The overhead light flickered intermittently, casting shifting shadows that danced eerily across the walls.

Selina leaned against a stack of crates, her watchful eyes following you as you explored. She gave you a moment to take in the space, the silence between you filled only by the soft creaks of the old warehouse. Eventually, she pushed herself away from the crates, her steps almost silent as they pressed into the thick layer of dust that coated the floor.

Her hand found your shoulder, firm but reassuring, guiding you gently to the side. "Come on," she said. "I want to see something."

You followed her through the cluttered space, weaving between old barrels and rusting equipment until you reached a clearing. Here, the walls were less covered by debris. The area was bathed in a slant of sunlight streaming through a dirty skylight, illuminating the dust motes that floated lazily in the air.

Selina stopped and turned to face you, pointing to a wide stretch of wall. "Show me what you can do. Use those hands again."

"Sure," you replied with a nod, a faint smile attempting to mask your nerves. You shook out your hands, trying to rid yourself of any lingering nerves. "Seems easy enough."

You approached the wall, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You placed your hand on the cold, rough surface, feeling it grip back. With a careful lift, you brought your other hand up and pressed it against the wall, then followed with your feet.

Before long, you were clinging to the surface, limbs spread wide. You began to climb, your start slow and careful, but as you settled into the rhythm, your confidence soared. You ascended effortlessly, and with a final leap, you swung up to hang from the ceiling, a playful grin spreading across your face as you looked down at Selina.

Selina craned her neck to watch you, a glint of pride in her eyes as she applauded slowly. 

"Not bad," she called up, warm and approving. "Now, let’s see if you can get down."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the jump. Channeling the superhero landing techniques you’d seen on TV, you leapt from the ceiling, aiming for a smooth descent on your knees. But reality had other plans.

SLAM!

You landed with a jarring thud, your knees slamming into the floor with a loud slam. The shock shot up your legs, making you wince as pain flared through your joints. You let out a half-groan, half-laugh, collapsing to the floor in a heap and clutching your knees. 

“Oww, damn it,” you muttered, wincing as you rubbed your knees, trying to ease the sting. “Okay, superhero landings: they look badass, but they sure as hell don’t feel badass.”

Selina stifled a snort, a smirk playing at her lips as she watched you.

"You know," she drawled, "in real life, landing like that is a surefire way to mess yourself up." She arched an eyebrow, raising a finger. "Lesson one: don’t slam all your weight on your knees or legs. Roll with it and spread out the impact. Trust me, your joints will thank you."

With that, Selina moved to demonstrate. She climbed onto a low shelf, her posture perfect as she stood poised on the edge. With a graceful leap, she descended smoothly, her landing controlled. She rolled into a crouch, looking ready to spring into action. 

"See?" she said, brushing off imaginary dust with a smirk. 

You shot her a glare from where you were still hunched on the floor. "Okay, okay. I get it. No superhero landings."

Selina gave you an approving nod. "Exactly. Now let’s see if you can pull it off without turning me into a laughing mess."

"Alright, I'll give it another shot," you said, pushing yourself up. "But if I end up in a heap of broken crates, it's totally your fault."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Training with Selina was a crash course in everything you thought you knew but didn't. 

Parkour was the first hurdle—literally. 

Each day kicked off with stretches and warm-ups before diving headfirst into rolls, jumps, and twists. Selina made it look like an art form, smooth and effortless like she was swimming through the air. You, on the other hand, had a style that was less about grace and more about grit—rough around the edges, but uniquely your own. It wasn’t pretty, but it got the job done. The city started to feel like your playground, and with every jump and scramble, you got better at making it your own.

Once you got a handle on the whole not-falling-on-your-face thing, Selina moved you on to flexibility training. Yoga quickly became your new frenemy. On the one hand, it was the calmest part of your day; on the other, you didn’t know it was possible to sweat so much while standing still. Then came gymnastics. Flips, spins, and handsprings made you feel like you’d signed up for a circus performance. You found yourself attempting gravity-defying moves that left you either soaring through the air or tangled in a heap on the mat.

Web practice was a whole different beast, mostly because Selina didn’t have much advice for swinging around the city like a manic Tarzan. The first few swings had you gripping the sides of buildings like a terrified cat. But after a while, something clicked. You stopped worrying about plummeting to your death and started enjoying the ride. Swinging through the air started to feel natural—like you were born to do it. 

Then there was hand-to-hand combat, where Selina decided bare-knuckle boxing was the way to go. Turns out, punching things with super strength was way harder than it looked. You didn’t just hit things; you obliterated them—cracks in the floor, dents in the walls, and one unfortunate punching bag that went on a one-way trip out the window.

And, of course, there was that time you got a little too cocky, tried to throw a fancy combo, and ended up clocking yourself in the face. That bruise was a harsh reminder that super strength was great—until you’re the one on the receiving end. 

Every one of these skills was drilled into you, over and over, until it was muscle memory.

Of course, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. There were days when you felt like you’d made zero progress and nights when your body ached like you’d been hit by a train.

Selina had a knack for pushing you to your limits—right to the brink, but never over. It was like she had some weird sixth sense for when you were about to break—she'd pull back, giving you just enough room to catch your breath before diving back in.

There was something oddly comforting about it too, like she was slowly molding you into something more, even if she had to drag you kicking and screaming the whole way.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 4:01 PM - Catwoman’s Apartment, Gotham City.

5 Days Later.

Right now, you were in your bedroom, the soft afternoon light filtering through the curtains and casting a warm glow across the room. The clock on the wall ticked towards four, and according to your new training schedule, it was time for yoga.

You found yourself in mid-crow pose, balancing on your hands with your knees resting on your upper arms. A YouTube video played on the floor nearby, the instructor’s calming voice offering a steady stream of tips and encouragement.

“Focus on your breath,” the instructor advised. “Keep your core engaged and your gaze forward.”

You exhaled slowly, settling into the pose with a growing sense of ease.

Just as you were beginning to settle into the routine, your laptop rang with a FaceTime request. With a quick shift of weight to one hand, you reached over and tapped the screen of your phone to answer the call. You nudged the video to full screen with your free hand, giving your full attention to the incoming call.

Damian’s face appeared on the screen, blinking in surprise as he took in the sight of you. His hair was tousled, and he was dressed in a fitted black shirt that accentuated his physique. He was lounging in bed, surrounded by the comfortable chaos of a well-lived-in space: rumpled sheets, a few scattered books, and a delicate, ornate cup of chai karak on the nightstand. 

“Habibti. Are you... doing yoga?” he asked, a slight red tint on his ears

You tried not to grin too widely as you held the pose. “Yeah, believe it or not. It’s part of my new training routine.”

Damian’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised. His eyes briefly traced over the tensed-up muscle of your arms, a hint of admiration flickering in his gaze. “Training? I wasn’t aware you had an interest in such pursuits.”

You hummed softly, stretching out your legs with practiced ease, each movement a dance. Your body, defined and taut, seemed like a sculpted work of art against the soft light filtering through your bedroom. Damian’s gaze followed the elegant curve of your back, lingering over every contour as if he were trying to memorize each detail.

“Well, Selina's been pushing me to get better. Uh... self-defense and all. It’s been intense, but I’m actually enjoying it.”

Damian nodded slowly, his eyes never straying from you. His usually steely gaze softened into something warmer, almost embarrassingly dopey, with hearts practically swimming in those steamy forest greens. He shifted on his bed, fingers drumming absently on the edge as he continued to watch, utterly captivated.

You followed up with a few air push-ups, grunting slightly as you bent your arms down.

The effort seemed to spur Damian more than you’d expected. His cheeks flushed deeply, and he quickly raised his phone's camera to the ceiling, desperately trying to hide his flustered face. He had always admired strength and discipline—traits he prided himself on and valued in others.

After a moment of awkwardly staring at the ceiling, Damian cleared his throat and adjusted his position, attempting to appear nonchalant as he lowered the camera back down. His attempt at casualness failed miserably. He was about as subtle as a brick being thrown into a window when it came to how much he thought you were beautiful.

“Well, I must admit, I’m rather impressed. I didn’t expect you to exhibit such dedication.”

You completed your set of air push-ups and settled back on your heels, a satisfied grin lighting up your face. “Thank you. It’s been challenging, but I’m making progress. Mom’s a tough coach, but her methods are effective.”

Damian’s gaze softened as he watched you ruffle your damp hair with a towel, the warmth of the setting sun casting a golden halo around you. The light painted your face with a soft, ethereal glow, highlighting the contours of your cheeks and the sparkle in your eyes. He shifted, lying on his stomach with his face buried in a pillow, but his emerald eyes peered out with a look of pure adoration.

"You're beautiful."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, but you quickly cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Thanks,” you replied, your voice betraying a hint of the fluttering emotions you were trying to hide.

Just as the moment settled, a loud crash shattered the calm. Damian flinched, his phone tumbling sideways, leaving you staring at the ceiling. Incoherent shouting and raucous laughter spilled through the background, punctuated by the unmistakable sound of someone barging in.

“Grayson! You insufferable, blundering imbecile! How many times must I tell you to knock before you manage to comprehend basic manners? You’re a barely tolerable nuisance, a wretched excuse for a brother. Get out before I lose my temper!”

Oh.

You snorted and continued to listen as more voices joined in.

“Oh, Damian’s got himself a little video call buddy. I hope you’re making a fool of my little brother, whoever you are.” A tuft of dark hair with a white streak appeared briefly before the phone was yanked away, giving you a downward view of someone’s face.

Tim’s grinning mug filled the screen next, and he gave you a lazy wave. “It’s his girlfriend.”

Before you could react, Damian’s voice erupted from somewhere off-screen. “Drake, give me my phone back this instant!”

Dick’s head popped into view next, his blue eyes the only part of him visible as he peered at you with a mischievous grin. “Y/N! Give me the phone. I wanna say hi too!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, waving to the two of them. “Hey, guys. Glad you could crash my call.”

Tim shrugged, still holding the phone. “Sorry about this. You know how it is here.”

Damian’s voice grew louder and more insistent, practically vibrating through the phone. “If you don’t give me my phone back right now, I will—”

Before he could finish, the screen shifted again. The phone wobbled as Damian wrestled for it and Tim tried to pull it back. In the background, Jason’s voice cut through with a snarky tone. “No way she’s actually real. I thought she was just a figment of his imagination.”

“Stop! Unhand it! None of you insipid fools have any concept of how to behave with respect!"

Jason managed to snatch the phone away with a triumphant smirk, his eyes narrowing as he took you in. Among Damian's brothers, he was the one you saw the least. You wouldn't be surprised if he didn't remember you. 

“Hey, I’m Jason. Don’t freak out, but I think he’s cheating on you.”

Damian’s protest was immediate and alarmed. “I am not! Todd!”

Jason waved a dismissive hand, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Pretty sure I saw him with some redhead just last week—”

In the background, the distinct clink of Damian’s katanas being unsheathed was audible. The phone jerked violently as the struggle intensified, Tim’s voice cutting in with panic. “Alright, alright! Don’t stab him! Here’s your phone back.”

Just as Tim was about to hand it over, Dick swooped in one last time, his face filling the screen with a very unflattering close-up of his mouth. “Wait! I didn’t get my turn!”

Damian’s screams and the scuffle of feet continued in the background. The phone changed hands again, this time revealing Alfred’s face as he peered down at the screen with a raised eyebrow.

“Say hi, Alfred,” Dick’s face appeared beside him, and the butler gave a warm smile.

“Good afternoon, Young Miss Kyle. I trust you’re well? We were all quite concerned after the incident at prom.”

You managed a small, sheepish smile, running a hand through your damp hair. “Thank you, Alfred. I’m doing much better now.”

Alfred nodded, his expression softening. “I’m glad to hear that. Please take care, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything. Master Bruce sends his good wishes as well.”

Dick’s grin widened as he gently nudged Alfred aside and took back the phone. “See, even Alfred wants you to come over. It’s unanimous! Right, Cass?”

The screen shifted again, briefly showing Cass giving a thumbs-up and nodding. You signed a quick "hi," and she responded with a warm smile.

There was a final chaotic burst of shouting, tangled limbs, flying fists, and laughter before the screen spun once more, the sound of a door slamming shut echoing. Damian’s grumbling face reappeared, his expression a mix of frustration and relief.

“Apologies for the disturbance,” he muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s fine, Damian. Your family’s just... lively.”

Then, squinting with a playful grin, you added, “Is your shirt... ripped?”

Damian glanced down, noticing the tear in his shirt for the first time. The rip ran diagonally from his shoulder down to his ribs, exposing the defined contours of his muscles beneath. The golden light from the setting sun danced across his form, casting soft shadows that highlighted the ridges of his physique. His cheeks flushed.

“Typical,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Damian set his phone down and moved to his closet. The aftermath of the earlier chaos was evident: a pillow half off the bed, books slightly askew on the shelf, and one of his katanas leaning precariously against the wall.

You whistled as he pulled off his torn shirt, admiring the way his back muscles shifted and flexed with the movement. Damian glanced over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. After a moment, he retrieved a clean black shirt, slipping it on. He picked up the phone again, his face coming back into view. 

“Better?” 

“Much better,” you replied, still smiling. “Though I wouldn’t have minded if you took a little longer.”

Damian rolled his eyes, but his expression was warm. “Idiot.”

He settled back down, setting his phone on his lap, which gave you a perfect view of his arms as he leaned over. The muscles in his forearms flexed slightly as he adjusted the angle, and you couldn’t help but admire how his strength showed through even in such simple movements.

"So... Is it true? Do you really have a secret redhead on the side?" you teased, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Damian's eyes widened, and he straightened up, instantly defensive. “What? No! Todd’s insufferable, and his only goal in life is to make me suffer. I would never—! I’m completely devoted to you. Their teasing is just a pathetic attempt to rile me up. I’m all in with you, no one else.”

You couldn’t resist, a cheesy grin spreading across your face. “All in, huh?”

“TT.” Damian’s face flushed even more, and he quickly hid his face from the camera, groaning in embarrassment.

You chuckled softly, deciding to shift the mood. “Are you going on patrol tonight?”

Damian’s face reappeared, more composed but still slightly flushed. “Yes, the usual rounds. Gotham never sleeps.”

You nodded, trying to sound casual despite the worry creeping in. “Just... be careful, okay?”

Damian’s expression softened. “I will. And if anything happens, you’ll be the first to know.”

You smiled, feeling a comforting warmth. “Good. I’ll hold you to that.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday, 2:20 AM - Catwoman’s Safehouse, Gotham City.

THWIP.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” Selina taunted, her voice dripping with mockery as she effortlessly sliced through the webs you cast with a flick of her claws. “I thought you were better than this.”

The dimly lit warehouse echoed with the rapid sounds of your movements as you and Selina sparred. At 2 AM, the night’s calm had long since dissipated, leaving only the two of you engaged in a relentless back-and-forth. 

You grinned, focusing on your next move. “Oh, I’ve got plenty more. Just warming up!” You flicked your wrist, sending another burst of webs toward her, aiming to trap her legs.

Selina nimbly leaped over the webs, landing gracefully. “Warming up? You’re going to need more than that to catch me.” She charged at you, claws extended, slicing through the air.

You flipped away just in time, twisting mid-air to narrowly avoid her claws. You landed lightly on your feet. “You know, for someone who’s supposedly training me, you sure like to make things difficult.”

Selina smirked, turning to face you. “Aren’t you at least a little curious?” She teased. “Training isn’t supposed to be easy. If it were, it wouldn’t be worth the effort.”

You dropped into a boxing stance, fists raised and ready. 

“Easy? Who said anything about easy?” You shot back with a quick jab aimed at her midsection. Selina dodged with a bend. Unfazed, you followed up with a powerful cross, your fist just grazing her cheek.

 “Let’s see if your skills can match that mouth,” she sneered.

Frustration simmered, and you launched into combo of punches—left jab, right cross, left hook—occasionally shooting webs. Selina danced around them with cat-like grace. When you swung a particularly forceful uppercut, you shot a web at her feet. She leaped clear, laughing as she did.

“Getting better,” she admitted, landing a bit rougher than usual. “But still not quite there.”

You readied yourself again, stance firm. “Not yet, but I’m catching on.”

Selina lunged again, her speed almost blurring. You ducked under her swipe, but she adjusted mid-move and closed in with a sudden burst of speed. Her claws grazed your jaw, and you stumbled backward, trying to regain your balance.

“Damn,” you cursed, wiping a trickle of blood from your chin. 

“Learning yet?” she replied with a smirk. 

“Oh, you’ll see.” 

Charging forward, you fired a burst of webs that latched onto Selina’s torso. With a sharp yank, you reeled her in, closing the distance between you. As she was pulled within reach, you shifted your weight and threw a punch. 

JAB!

The force of your punch connected solidly with her chin, knocking Selina backward. She hit the ground with a grunt but was quick to recover. 

Huffing slightly, she sprang to her feet, brushing off the dust and massaging her jaw with a wry smile. “Nice hit.”

“Didn’t hit you too hard, did I, Mom?” you asked, genuine concern in your voice as you started to undo the wraps on your knuckles.

Selina chuckled, brushing off a stray web from her hair with an exaggerated flick. “Hardly. I’ve been hit harder by a wayward cat toy."—An obvious lie, you were a very heavy hitter—"But I appreciate the effort.”

You relaxed your stance, feeling a rush of accomplishment. “Just trying to keep up with you.”

"Is that so?" Selina said, gliding over to a table to grab a handful of ice, which she pressed against her jaw. She then slipped into a sleek, black jacket that accentuated her lithe frame. As she turned to you, her eyes sparkled with mischief, and a playful smile danced on her lips. “Still have some energy left?”

You rolled your shoulders, savoring the satisfying ache of a solid workout. “Yeah, I’m not quite ready to hit the hay yet.”

Selina gave a nod of approval as she bent to lace up her boots. “Good. We’re going out.”

Your eyes lit up, and you couldn’t hide your excitement. It had been days since she’d let you get out and test your new skills, and you were itching for some action. “Really? You mean it?”

“Yep,” Selina said with a sly grin, pulling a stray web from her hair. She tossed the ice pack aside, the cubes clinking as they hit the metal table. “Time to see what you’ve learned. Go get ready.��

You nodded and did as told. 

You slipped on a red varsity jacket—Damian’s from the school’s soccer team. He was the star player, but he never actually wore it, so you decided to "borrow" it for yourself. The jacket was oversized on you, but it offered that familiar warmth and carried the faint scent of his cologne. Underneath, you kept on your training clothes: leggings and a sports bra, still damp from the warehouse workout. On your feet, you pulled on your red, ratty Converse, their worn-out soles feeling oddly comforting.

It wasn’t long before you and Selina were leaping across Gotham's rooftops, the city below a sprawling tapestry of glowing lights and deep shadows. The cool night air rushed past you, carrying the distant hum of traffic and the occasional whoosh of a passing vehicle far below. Each leap sent adrenaline coursing through your veins, the thrill of the city’s pulse beneath your feet.

“Keep up!” Selina’s voice cut through the wind.

On cue, she vaulted off a high ledge, her body twisting mid-air like a dancer in flight. The moonlight glinted off her jewelry and caught the sharp focus in her eyes as she executed a flawless landing atop a streetlamp. The lamp swayed slightly under her weight, but she held her position with poise, a smirk playing on her lips.

With a grin, you shot a web at the streetlight, using it to swing in a wide arc around the pole. The momentum propelled you into a series of rapid spins, your laughter blending with the whistling wind as you twirled through the air. Releasing the web, you pulled yourself up and off the lamp, flipping effortlessly before landing in a smooth roll on the adjacent rooftop.

“Nice moves,” Selina called out. She leaped from the lamp with a fluid dive, twisting gracefully mid-air before she landed beside you, her boots barely making a sound on the rooftop.

Both of you continued moving, the exhilaration of the chase fueling your every step. The city lights streaked past in a blur of neon and shadow, each leap and swing a burst of adrenaline. As you bounded across another rooftop, something caught your eye—a large billboard, its bright screen flickering with the latest headlines. 

The text burned across the display. 

“Gotham High Senior Prom Interrupted by Villain Connected to Sionis Crime Family: Chaos Erupts.”

You came to an abrupt halt, your shoes skidding against the gravel roof. Breathing heavily, you tilted your head slightly and turned to face the billboard, your gaze fixed on the glaring headlines. The screen flickered to a live feed of a stern-looking news anchor. 

“Last Saturday, prom at Gotham High was disrupted by a violent attack. Eyewitnesses reported a scene of utter chaos where a villain equipped with mechanical arms infiltrated the event, resulting in a brief but intense altercation. Several students sustained injuries. The assailant, identified as Octavius Burton, was apprehended by Batman and his partner, Robin.”

Tucking your hands into the pockets of your jacket, you turned as Selina began to make her way to you, your brow furrowing with concern. You could see her fingers flexing at her sides, a telltale sign of her mounting frustration. She pulled her sleek, black jacket tighter around her, the fabric rustling softly. 

“Burton, a former professor at the academy, was terminated following inquiries into his activities connected with the Sionis Crime Family, an organization with known affiliations to the criminal figure known as Black Mask. Authorities are continuing to investigate the motives behind this incident.”

Black Mask was a touchy subject between the two of you, subtly pulling at threads of pain that neither of you fully addressed. His name seemed to drift into conversations like a ghost, stirring up the quiet ache of past losses—the kind that felt like a fresh wound, reopening old scars that neither of you had fully healed from.

“Have you seen anything strange lately?” you asked, trying to gauge her reaction.

Selina gave you a sideways glance, her expression thoughtful. “Funny you should ask. I’ve picked up on some strange shifts. The gang’s movements have been off—more frantic, almost like they’re gearing up for something.”

“And what do you think it means?” you asked carefully, trying to avoid pushing too hard.

Selina shrugged. “It’s hard to say. They’re usually pretty secretive, but something feels different this time. Like there’s a bigger play going on.”

You chewed on your inner cheek, feeling a familiar tightness in your chest. This was the most you’d managed to get her to talk about Black Mask or any of the darker aspects of her other life. It wasn’t often Selina opened up about such things, and the rare glimpses she offered were often fleeting, like shadows slipping through your fingers.

“Have you picked up any solid leads?” you asked, tugging at the sleeves of Damian's jacket. “Anything that might give us a clue about what’s coming?”

Selina’s expression grew more guarded. “Not much. Just fragments and whispers. But whatever’s brewing, it’s got those boys on edge. And when they’re on edge, you know something big is about to go down.”

You nodded, feeling a knot of anxiety in your chest. You shut your eyes for a brief moment, gathering the courage to voice your thoughts. When you opened them again, your gaze was steady. 

“I want to check this out,” you tell her. 

Selina froze. “I’m sorry, what?”

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “I can’t shake the feeling that everything’s connected. There’s too much coincidence here to ignore.”

Selina’s eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening as she took a step back. “What are you getting at?”

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to keep your voice steady despite the knot in your throat. “Look, think about it. My parents died because of Black Mask. Then, this villain linked to him shows up at the prom. The next day, I wake up with spider powers, and my dad was working on spider-human DNA stuff. All these pieces—”

Selina cut you off. “You’re not seriously suggesting you want to dive into this mess yourself, are you?”

“I have to! It’s all connected somehow. I need to find out what really happened with my father. I need to piece it together myself,” you sputter.

Selina’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a disbelieving laugh, her hand coming up to her forehead as if to steady herself. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Kid, don’t get ahead of yourself. Just because I trained you for a week doesn’t mean I’m about to let you go and get yourself tangled up with the Sionis Family.”

You bristled at her dismissive tone, stepping closer, you waved your hands around in desperation. “But you don’t get it. I can’t just sit back and ignore this!”

Selina’s expression hardened, her protective instincts flaring. “You think I don’t get that? I lost your mother—my sister—too. I know how hard it is. But rushing into danger without understanding everything is risky. The Sionis Family isn’t just a petty gang; they’re dangerous, with connections and resources that could put you in serious danger.”

You took a step back, feeling the sting of her words. “You think I’m too weak to handle it, don’t you? That I’ll just fall apart like everyone else you’ve seen?”

Selina’s eyes widened. “That’s not what I meant—”

“But that’s exactly what you’re implying!” you shot back. “You’re treating me like I’m still a kid like I can’t make my own choices.”

“You’re my daughter,” Selina said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. “You are a child whose whole world was turned upside down with no explanation. You were left there all alone, on my doorstep. And I took you in because I couldn’t stand to see you lost and alone. Now, you’re asking me to let you dive headfirst into a world that killed everyone I loved and nearly destroyed me.”

You shook your head, trying to protest, but she silenced you with a raise of her hand.

“I know you're confused. I know you're angry. So angry about your mother's death. And, baby, I am too,” she whispered. “But you have so much ahead of you, and I don’t want this world to consume you before you’ve even had a chance to truly live. This life, it’s... it’s not what I want for you.”

“But what if this is what I want?” you asked quietly, looking back up at her. 

“You’ll regret it,” she croaked. Her eyes were clouded with something you couldn't quite place—fear, maybe, or sorrow. As she pulled you into a tight embrace, her shoulders sagged, the tension seeping out of her in a slow, painful release. “I see myself in you, in all the ways I wished I could have been something different, something better. It scares me because I know all too well what this life can do.”

The news report had long since faded, replaced by a garish commercial that blared across the billboard. The vivid reds and yellows bathed both of you in an almost surreal glow, distorting the moment into something dreamlike and distant.

The relentless noise and flashing lights felt like they belonged to another world, far removed from the quiet tension between you. You simply nodded, your throat tight, and clung to Selina, the weight of her words settling into your chest as you hugged her back, holding on just a little tighter.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sunday,  3:43 AM - Catwoman’s Apartment, Gotham City.

The newly bought alarm clock, a hasty replacement after the old one met its demise the night after prom, glared at you with its green-tinted screen. Its bright blue neon numbers cut through the darkness, each digit pulsing with impatience:

3:43 AM.

You were seated at your desk, robin-themed socks snug on your feet and a green blanket draped around you for warmth. The soft glow of your laptop screen illuminated your face as you pored over a labyrinth of links and tabs, your eyes scanning for any scrap of information related to Octavius Burton. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the computer and the occasional click of your mouse.

Both you and Selina had returned from the run just an hour ago, the air between you still charged with unspoken words. Selina, visibly exhausted, had offered you a final, goodnight kiss on the cheek before retreating to her bed. The weight of your conversation had clearly worn her out, but you remained restless.

CLICK.

You clicked through a few more links on your laptop, but the information was frustratingly sparse—just fragmented reports and vague mentions that led nowhere. Restlessness gnawed at you, making the room feel too small, too stifling as if the walls were inching closer with each passing second.

Your gaze flicked to the window, where the city lights barely penetrated the thick curtains. The cool night air called to you, a whisper of freedom. An idea began to take shape, stirring a familiar itch beneath your skin—the urge to move, to escape, to find answers.

You grabbed your laptop and closed it with a decisive snap. The screen went dark, but the soft green light from your alarm clock still bathed the room in an eerie glow. You slid your feet into your shoes and approached the window.

Opening the window quietly, you peered out into the night, the cool air splashing against your face like a cold, refreshing wave. Using your spider powers, you crawled effortlessly up the side of the building. Once you reached the rooftop, you settled onto the edge, your legs dangling over the side. 

Cool and refreshing, a welcome change from the stuffy room. You pulled out your laptop.

As you continued your search for information, the quiet of the night enveloped you, broken only by the occasional distant sound of the city below. It felt like the world had opened up just a little bit more.

With a click, you redirected your search to something more personal. You began scrolling through the company pages of Oscorp Industries, the old company where your father had worked. 

You skimmed through employee directories, old press releases, and archived news articles. You paused at a page detailing the company’s history. Among the names and dates, you spotted a familiar one: Octavius Burton.

The text described him as a former lead researcher who worked at Oscorp Industries for a brief three years before his abrupt departure. Huh. 

Shaking off your unease, you shifted your focus to a research site where your father had published his work. Searching for his name, you navigated to his profile. 

Scrolling through his list of publications, you examined the coauthors and acknowledgments. Your heart skipped a beat when you came across a paper that mentioned Burton in its acknowledgments section. It read:

“Special thanks to Dr. Octavius Burton for his invaluable insights and technical expertise during the development of this project.”

A knot formed in your stomach as you closed the laptop, your head beginning to throb. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together, but the edges were still blurred, the full picture just out of reach. 

Scowling, you rubbed your temples, trying to soothe the growing tension that had built up behind your eyes. But before you could find any relief, the unsettling tingle of your spider-sense flared to life. It started as a faint prickle at the back of your neck, quickly escalating into a sharp, insistent warning that sent your heartbeat into overdrive.

!!!

Your body reacted before your mind fully processed the danger. You snapped your head around, every nerve on high alert. A shadow moved in the corner of your vision, and in the next instant, a figure dropped down from above, landing with a nearly imperceptible thud just a few feet in front of you.

Without thinking, you sprang into action. Your laptop tumbled from your lap as you lunged forward, your fist arcing toward the intruder's face. The impact was solid, your knuckles meeting the side of their jaw with a satisfying crack. The figure staggered, but quickly recovered, straightening.

"What? Looking for some more?!” you growled, swinging another punch aimed at the intruder. But before you could connect, a gloved hand shot up, catching your fist with surprising ease.

"Beloved?" The familiar voice cut through the adrenaline-fueled haze, laced with both surprise and a hint of irritation.

You blinked and looked up to see Damian, clad in his Robin suit. His jaw was already showing a deepening bruise, a mottled patch of red and purple swelling rapidly.

"Oh my god!" you exclaimed, mortified. The realization of who you had just struck hit you like a wave, your cheeks burning with heat. "I—I'm so sorry! I didn’t mean to—"

Damian adjusted his stance, wincing slightly as he gingerly touched the sore spot on his jaw. “Really? Is this how you greet everyone who drops by? I’m both impressed and deeply insulted.”

He gave you a scrutinizing look, the white slits of his mask narrowing. “That punch—while forceful—was a bit too eager. A more controlled approach would be better. Precision and control usually work better than raw power.”

You stared at him, taken aback. “Are you... judging my punch?”

Damian’s lips curled into a smirk as he went on, clearly enjoying the moment. “And your balance was off. You need to keep your center of gravity more stable. Alignment and posture are key to effective strikes and maintaining stability.”

You rolled your eyes. “Brat.”

“Well, if the shoe fits,” Damian said with a self-satisfied smirk, adjusting his gloves with a flourish. “It’s only fair that I offer some guidance. A bit more finesse and you might have neutralized me more efficiently.”

Your eye twitched. Men and their egos, you thought, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Oh, sorry for not meeting your high standards,” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your words. “Maybe next time, I’ll make sure not to punch the person who’s here to give me tips.”

Damian chuckled, crossing his arms with a grin. “It was a decent hit. You’ve managed to impress me. Think of it as a compliment. Most people don’t even get the chance to lay a hand on me.”

“I hate you,” you grumbled, but the words lacked any real bite. Despite your irritation, you found yourself stepping closer, wrapping your arms around his torso, and burying your face into his chest.

Damian simply huffed, amused, and placed his arms over your shoulders, the warmth of his embrace comforting in its familiarity. Even when he was being insufferable, there was something about him that made it impossible to stay mad for long. 

“Why did you drop by anyway?” you asked, lifting your head to look up at him.

Damian’s arms tightened around you as he responded, “I was in the neighborhood. Curiosity got the better of me. And it seems I was right to investigate,” his gaze flickered toward your laptop, still lying on the rooftop.

You narrowed your eyes, not buying it. “Really? You just happened to be passing by? You know this is Catwoman’s territory, right? Seems a bit out of your way.”

“Tt,” Damian scowled, looking away as a faint blush crept up his neck. The tips of his ears turned a telling shade of red. “It’s not like I was actively searching for you,” he added, trying to sound indifferent. “Just a fortunate coincidence, I suppose.”

“Mhm. Sure, babe,” you murmured, reaching up to gently touch Damian's face. Your fingers traced a scar near his jaw with a tenderness that made him pause, his breath hitching ever so slightly.

“Idiot,” you said affectionately, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“Hardly,” he replied, a subtle warmth breaking through his tone. Before you could react, he scooped you up into his arms with ease.

“Put me down,” you groaned, half-heartedly resisting. “I’m heavy.”

Damian’s lips curled into a smug grin, his breath warm against your skin as he scoffed, “Beloved, my bench press warm-ups weigh more than you.” The gravel in his voice took on a teasing edge, smugness bleeding into your ear. “Watch.”

Before you could react, Damian’s arms tightened around you, and with a quick, effortless motion, he tossed you into the air.

A startled scream escaped your lips as you flailed, instinctively shooting out a web. The sticky thread hissed as it latched onto the rooftop edge, pulling tight and catching Damian’s attention. His head whipped around, confusion clouding his features as he tried to make sense of the sudden blur of movement.

In the split-second of panic, you plummeted back toward him, landing safely in his arms.

Shit. 

Without missing a beat, before he could fully look back, you grabbed his jaw and pulled him into a kiss. Damian’s eyes widened in shock, but as you deepened the kiss, his surprise gave way to something else. His arms wrapped around you, and he kissed you back with a fervor that matched your own. 

After a few minutes, Damian tried to pull away, his curiosity still evident in his eyes. But you weren’t having any of it. With a soft, pleading whine, you drew him back in, your hands sliding over the contours of his armor. You whispered his name against his lips, the warmth of your breath mingling with his.

Beneath the hardened exterior and the carefully constructed armor, Damian was achingly soft. The mere thought of kissing you, of feeling your lips against his, had managed to distract him so thoroughly that the facade he worked so hard to project fell away like fragile shards of glass.

Damian’s attempt to pull away was fleeting as if he were tethered by an invisible thread pulling him back to you. His hands tightened around you, one sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, the other pressing firmly against your lower back, drawing you closer. He swallowed the honeyed sounds slipping from your lips, savoring every breath and murmur.

Your hands roamed across the edges of his mask, fingertips tracing the ridges and contours, teasingly attempting to slip it off.

Damian’s groan of your name was a low, throaty rumble that vibrated through your chest. His lips followed a fiery path down to your neck, each kiss a heated brand that made your breath catch, as if he were etching his mark on you with every touch. 

Suddenly, the sharp crackle of Damian’s earpiece sliced through the intimate moment. His body tensed, and with a swift, almost robotic motion, he leaped several feet away from you, landing with a heavy thud. He straightened up, his posture rigid as he fiddled with the earpiece.

“Dam—Robin,” came Tim’s voice through the earpiece. “Eugh. What the hell is that noise? I thought you were on patrol. Are you seriously making out on the job? Redhood and I are getting an earful of... whatever that is.”

“Yeah, thanks for the front-row seat to the romance, demon brat. I’ll be sure to add that to my list of things I didn’t need to hear tonight. Next time, maybe give us a warning before you make me want to shoot myself.”

“TT,” Damian’s face turned a deep crimson as he yanked the earpiece from his ear with a grimace. In a burst of frustration, he slammed the device down, reducing it to a pile of broken plastic.

“Oh,” you said with an amused grin as he spun on his heel with a sharp, almost frantic movement and leaped off the rooftop in a swift, disappearing dive.

“Next time, maybe keep the earpiece off!” you called after him, the grin still playing on your lips. Damian responded with a speedier exit, vanishing into the night.

As the echoes of his departure faded, you let out a deep sigh, your grin slipping away. Turning around, you saw the web you had shot still clinging to the rooftop, its glistening strands catching the moonlight with an almost ethereal shimmer. Panic bubbled up inside you as you approached it, your hands trembling slightly.

Fuck. That was too close.

Taking a steadying breath, you carefully picked up the web, its sticky texture making your fingers feel oddly weighed down. With a swift motion, you tossed it off the roof, watching as it drifted into the darkness below. The night seemed to grow eerily quiet in the aftermath, each distant siren or rustle of leaves making your heart race with an anxious thrum.

You scanned the rooftop one final time, making sure no trace of the night’s events remained. Grabbing your laptop, you felt its reassuring weight as you turned and headed back to your room.

"I have got to be a lot more careful," you sighed to yourself, the words barely more than a whisper. 

 ༻⊰───⋅

Monday, 2:19 PM - Chemistry Lab, Gotham Academy.

“...and as you can see, the rate of reaction increases with temperature, which in turn affects the activation energy required. Remember, it’s crucial to maintain consistent variables to ensure accurate results. Any questions?”

The room buzzed with the soft rustle of papers and the occasional murmur as students exchanged glances and half-heartedly raised their hands. A question from one of the students prompted Dr. Foster to shift to a new segment of the lecture.

You slouched over your desk, trying to focus on the textbook despite the monotonous drone of the lecture. The room felt stifling, the endless rows of lab benches and flickering fluorescent lights adding to the sense of tedium. Your pen drifted absently across the paper in your notebook, sketching spiders—each more intricate than the last. It was the third-to-last class of the day, and you found yourself counting down the minutes until freedom.

This was one of the only classes you didn’t share with Damian, and his absence made the wait for dismissal feel even longer.

With a sigh, you sketched a detailed spider, giving it a little mask and cape for amusement. The classroom’s buzz of activity continued around you, blending into a dull hum as you lost yourself in your sketches.

“You like spiders?” came a voice, interrupting your idle doodling.

You turned to find your seatmate, Morgan, looking at you with a curious expression.

Morgan Stark—her full name rolling off the tongue like something out of a high-fashion magazine—was your lab partner in Chemistry class and a standout at Gotham Academy. Top student, robotics prodigy, and the heiress to Stark Industries

You blinked, slightly taken aback. “Oh, um... yeah. I guess so. Just an interest.”

Morgan leaned closer, her chestnut hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. “Really? Most people find spiders creepy. What got you into them?”

You glanced at your notebook, where intricate doodles of spiders and webs sprawled across the page. 

“I don’t know,” you began, pausing as you searched for the right words. “They’re just… fascinating. I like their webs.”

Morgan nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing on her lips. "That's pretty cool.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a bit more at ease. As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, students began to gather their belongings with a collective sense of relief. The clatter of backpacks and the rustling of papers filled the room.

Morgan leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms with a small smile. She tilted her head, studying you with a curious gaze. 

“What’s your name again?” she asked, her hand moving to adjust the glasses perched on her nose.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. After months of sitting next to her, you'd assumed she’d have gotten it by now. Hell, you two did tablework assignments together, shared notes, and even collaborated on that tough group project last semester. 

“You... don’t know my name?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Her eyes widened slightly, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her notebook. The blush deepened, contrasting with the freckles dusting her skin.

“Oh, I know your name,” she lied horribly, her voice faltering just a bit. “I… just want to know if you know it.”

A smile crept up your cheeks as you gathered your notebook and packed it away, your movements slower and more deliberate.

“I’m Y/N Kyle,” you said, offering a gentle smile.

“Nice to meet you,” Morgan said with a smile, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe next time we can trade more than just doodles and spider talk.”

“Sounds good,” you replied, sliding your backpack over one shoulder and standing up.

As students filed out of the classroom, you and Morgan exchanged a final look. She gave you a quick, playful wink before turning to join her friends, who were already waiting by the door.

Walking out of the classroom, the hallway was alive with the usual end-of-day hustle. Students rushed to their lockers, chatted animatedly, or headed to their clubs. The walls were lined with lockers, some ajar and spilling over with books and personal items. Conversations and occasional bursts of laughter echoed off the walls.

As you pushed through the crowd, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It was a message from Damian:

SUGAR DAMI:

Beloved, I'm afraid I can't drive you home today.

I have soccer training that will extend until 5 o'clock.

You sighed, a touch of disappointment creeping in. Selina was out on a heist for the whole day, leaving you to your own devices. The thought of spending the rest of the afternoon cooped up in your apartment didn't exactly thrill you.

With a quick huff, you typed a response:

YOU:

No worries, I'll figure something out. Good luck with training!

You hit send and slipped your phone back into your pocket. Adjusting the strap of your backpack, you made your way toward the back entrance of the school. As you pushed open the heavy double doors, the crisp afternoon air greeted you with a refreshing coolness.

Stepping outside, you were met with a clear blue sky, dotted with only a few wispy clouds drifting lazily. The sun bathed the school grounds in a warm, golden glow, while the distant hum of traffic blended with the cheerful chirping of birds. 

You made your way to a secluded corner of the school grounds, checking over your shoulder to make sure no one was around. With a nimble leap, you cleared the fence and landed lightly on the other side. Slipping into the narrow alleyway, your footsteps echoed softly off the brick walls as you made your way to the fire escape.

You scaled the metal steps with practiced ease, pulling yourself up to the rooftop. Once there, you rolled your shoulders, loosening up before taking in the expansive view. Your apartment was visible in the distance, but that wasn't your destination today.

With a final glance back at the school, you took off across the rooftops.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Monday, 3:25 PM - Catwoman’s Safehouse, Gotham City.

The journey to the safehouse was quick, the cityscape blurring by as you made your way. As you pushed open the heavy doors of the safehouse, the familiar scent of old wood and metal greeted you, a stark contrast to the crisp afternoon air outside.

With a tap on your phone, you opened Spotify and selected a playlist, the tunes soon filling the room from the speakers resting on a nearby table.

Don't wanna be an American idiot One nation controlled by the media Information age of hysteria It's calling out to idiot America

Still in your school uniform, you took off your blazer and tossed it somewhere on the floor, leaving you in your shirt and tie, slightly rumpled from the day's wear. The warehouse felt cooler without the extra layer, and the air against your skin was refreshing.

Using your shooters, you spun a hammock between a few panels of the wall. You jumped onto it, the webbed fabric creaking slightly as it adjusted to your weight. The hammock swayed gently as you settled in, the rhythmic motion easing the tension from your muscles.

As the music played on, you bobbed your head to the beat, letting the lyrics wash over you.

Welcome to a new kind of tension All across the alienation Where everything isn't meant to be okay Television dreams of tomorrow We're not the ones who're meant to follow For that's enough to argue

Settling deeper into the hammock, you pulled out your phone and began scrolling idly through the latest news reports. The headlines were grim, detailing the latest string of crimes committed by Black Mask. As a Gotham native, you were used to the constant stream of bad news, but it still made your stomach churn slightly.

One headline caught your eye.

"Multiple Tech Industries Robbed: Black Mask Suspected in High-Tech Heist Spree"

You click on the article, your eyes scanning the details.

"In the past week, several leading tech companies have reported break-ins and thefts, resulting in the loss of millions in high-tech equipment and proprietary technology."

The article detailed the affected companies and the nature of the thefts. Wayne Enterprises had reported missing nanotechnology components. LexCorp was missing cutting-edge encryption devices, while Queen Consolidated had reported the disappearance of prototype energy sources.

Your brow furrowed as you took in the list. Black Mask was stepping up his game. He was gutsy, you'd say that, targeting Wayne Enterprises when Gotham was practically owned by the company. Maybe you could ask Damian for info. He might have some insights that could help you in your personal little mission.

!!!

Then there was a tingling sensation, a familiar prickle at the back of your neck, like tiny electric currents dancing along your spine. It heightened your senses, sharpening your focus as if the world slowed down for a brief moment. You turned just in time to see Selina swinging in with her bullwhip, landing on the ground with a graceful yet forceful thud.

Smirking, you raised a hand in greeting. “You didn’t roll. You know that’s really bad for your knees.”

“Oh, please, honey. Turning my own words against me? I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you,” she said, rolling her eyes. She straightened up, her black leather suit catching the dim light that filtered through the dusty windows.

"Why so early?" you hummed. "Thought you were out for the whole day. Got caught by Batman again?"

"Caught? Please, I never get caught. I just let him think he has a chance," she scoffed, sauntering over to you, her boots clicking against the concrete.

She held a small, black bag in her hand and, with a casual flick of her wrist, tossed it your way. The bag flew smoothly through the air, landing with a soft thud against your stomach. You grunted slightly and caught it in your arms.

“What’s this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just a little something I picked up on my way back,” she replied, leaning casually against a nearby crate. “Figured you could use a bit of excitement.”

As you opened the bag, you discovered a sleek, black suit inside. The material felt smooth and durable—definitely Kevlar. It was similar to Selina’s suit, but when you turned it around, a spider symbol was stitched onto the back.

“A suit?” you marveled, pulling it out for a closer look.

Selina smiled, lifting her goggles and moving to sit beside you. “I made it myself. Took a while to get everything just right, but I think it’ll suit you perfectly.”

You traced the spider emblem with your fingers. “I thought... you didn’t want me to go out into that world?”

Selina sighed softly, her expression softening as she watched you. “I was hesitant at first. You know how dangerous it can be out there. The streets of Gotham aren’t forgiving, and I’ve seen too many people get hurt—or worse—because they weren’t prepared. But I also understand why you feel the need to do this. It’s in your blood, just like it’s in mine. We’ve both got that itch.”

She paused, her gaze distant for a moment before focusing back on you. “When I first started, I was headstrong, eager to prove myself. I took risks, some stupid, some necessary, but I learned. This is my way of making sure you can learn the ropes without getting in over your head.”

"You're going to let me patrol?" you gasped out, a grin so wide it spread across the ends of your cheeks.

Selina’s tone sharpened. “Don’t think for a second this means I’m giving you free rein. I’ll be watching. One wrong move, and I’ll be right there to pull your little spider-butt back. But for now, consider this my way of making sure you’re ready.”

“Fuck yes,” you cheered, smiling as you hopped off the hammock.

She smirked, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Now, get suited up. Let’s see how you look in action.”

You took the suit and headed to a makeshift changing area in the corner of the warehouse. The material felt surprisingly light and flexible, molding perfectly to your body. You glanced at yourself in a cracked mirror propped against the wall. The sleek, black suit clung like a second skin, with the spider emblem standing out against the dark fabric.

Stepping out of the changing area, you caught Selina’s eye. She circled you once, then twice, before nodding in approval.

“Not bad,” she said with a smirk. “You look like you mean business.”

You smirked cockily, crossing your arms over your chest. “I do mean business.”

Selina raised a clawed finger, her tone turning serious. “Now, before anything, let’s set some rules. First, no killing—under any circumstances. That’s non-negotiable.”

You nodded solemnly.

“Second, stay away from gangs. That means no getting tangled up with Black Mask or his crew. They’re trouble.”

You deflated a bit but agreed.

“Third, avoid the Bats. Don’t go near their patrol routes or get involved with them. No crossing paths.”

“No patrolling on school nights – your education is your priority..”

“No associating with Catwoman – you can’t be seen with me in costume. It raises too many eyebrows and could lead Batman or others to figure out who you are.”

“So... I get to go solo?” you grinned.

Selina rolled her eyes. “Yes, but I’ll be tracking your every move. Stick to small, street-level threats like muggings, burglaries, and assaults. No big jobs or anything that could draw too much attention.”

“After patrols, come to the warehouse first – don’t go straight to the apartment.It’s safer to lay low here.”

“And no mixing with civilians—keep your crime-fighting life separate from your personal life.”

You nodded, committing the rules to memory. “Got it. No killing, no gangs, no Bats, no school-night patrols, no Catwoman, warehouse first, and no civilians.”

“Good. Stick to those rules, and we might just keep you out of trouble. Any small slip-up or any inkling of suspicion from the Bats, and you're out. Got that?”

Her eyes bore into yours, glaring into your soul. You gulped and nodded again, more firmly this time. "Got it. No room for mistakes."

Selina gave a satisfied nod and tossed you a mask. You caught it and inspected it closely. The mask was sleek and full-faced, featuring large, white mesh eye covers bordered in black. Subtle, almost invisible web patterns were etched into the surface.

"You know, for someone who doesn't follow the rules, you sure do have a lot for me," you snorted, running your fingers over the webbing, appreciating the craftsmanship before slipping it onto your face.

“That’s because I’m Catwoman and you’re not. I know when to break the rules and play. You’re still learning.”

“Do I at least get a cool name?” you asked, adjusting the mask to fit snugly.

“The press usually decides that, honey. How do you like the sound of Spider-Girl?”

“Spider-Woman,” you corrected with a huff.

“Spidey might be cuter,” she teased.

“Spidey,” you hummed, rolling the name around in your head. “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Spidey it is, then.”

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

dududun there's a stark

surely putting this child into vigilante work is a good idea

i am very sure spidey will be responsible and not at all destructive like every other peter parker ever

also! you fight like spider noir because both of you use bare-knuckle boxing

[httpvomitello]

I usually dont do requests but.. you see, you seem pretty nice for me to NOT ask for something.

Soo, im autistic and i have a HUGE problem with anything that gets sticky or stuff like this, so washing dishes for me makes me very disgusted.

Soo.. could I maybe ask for a fem autistic reader x rottmnt donnie? Like shes just trying to wash dishes but some food just gets in her hand and she just gets all "eww!"

Sorry if this is a bad request, I just rarely see autistic reader stuff. Take your time and I love your tmnt stuff!

Hello, hello! I decided to write this one here, because... Well, as you said, it's a little difficult to find autistic reader request. HOWEVER! This will officially be the last request I will accept from TMNT, because I will stop writing about them for a long time ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ. Anyways, hope you like it ~ ♡♡♡♡

Sensory Overload and Suds *⁠.⁠✧

ROTTMNT Donnie x Autistic!Fem!Reader

The kitchen sink was running, warm water filling the basin as you carefully placed the dirty dishes inside. You never minded washing dishes—when everything went smoothly, at least. The warm water felt nice, and the repetitive motions were calming. But the moment your fingers brushed against something slimy at the bottom of a bowl, a deep, full-body shiver ran through you.

"Eww!" You recoiled so fast you almost knocked the dish rack over, shaking your hand like it was on fire. "Ew, ew, ew, ew!"

From across the lair, Donnie, who had been working on one of his latest tech projects, immediately turned toward the noise. His brow furrowed behind his goggles as he stood up. "Are we under attack? Has one of my brothers done something catastrophic again? Is the kitchen on fire? Because if it is, I swear I will—"

You turned toward him, still shaking your hand in distress. "No, no, it's worse!"

"Worse than the kitchen being on fire?" He asked dryly, making his way over.

You turned the sink off and backed away from it like it had personally offended you. "I touched…something."

Donnie tilted his head. "Something?"

You shuddered again, rubbing your hands against your shirt as if that could erase the sensation. "Something slimy. And now I feel it. It's everywhere. It's like it's still on my skin even though it's not. I hate it."

Ah. Sensory overload. Donnie knew how that was.

"Alright, stand back, dearest," Donnie said, dramatically cracking his knuckles. "I shall now engage in a high-stakes battle against the revolting entity that dares disturb you."

You gave him a flat look. "Don, it's just food gunk."

"A heinous foe, indeed," he continued, rolling up nonexistent sleeves before grabbing a pair of dish gloves from under the sink and slipping them on. "Fear not, for I am well-equipped to vanquish it."

Despite the lingering feeling of grossness still on your hands, you snorted. He always did this—turning small moments into theatrical productions. You appreciated it, though. It made things easier, made you feel less silly for being overwhelmed by something others might see as insignificant.

Donnie rinsed out the offending dish, making sure there were no traces of slimy remnants left before setting it aside. He then turned to you and dramatically held out his hand. "There. The beast has been slain. Shall I escort you to the hand soap to ensure no remnants remain?"

You rolled your eyes but took his hand anyway, letting him guide you to the sink. He turned the water on for you, and you immediately scrubbed your hands under the warm stream, sighing in relief as the sensation finally faded.

"Feeling better?" he asked, watching as you meticulously cleaned every finger.

You nodded, glancing at him. "Yeah. Thanks, Don."

He gave you a little smirk and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Anytime, my dear. My talents extend far beyond the realm of science—I am also a certified rescuer of distressed damsels suffering from unfortunate dish-related incidents."

You flicked water at him. "You're so dramatic."

"And you love it."

You rolled your eyes again, but you couldn't stop the small smile forming on your lips. "Yeah. I do."

[robin-evry]

what if!!! hear me out 🙏🙏 yuu was a robot/miku inspired…IT SUCKS but like…miku kinda..yuu mikyuu…😓😓

Sure no worries, no judgement from me, ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐓 🤖👾🎤

A robot is a machine—especially one programmable by a computer—capable of carrying out a complex series of actions automatically. A robot can be guided by an external control device, or the control may be embedded within. But they can act independently if their creators allow it.

( English is not my first language )

Day 3 : robot!yuu

In a world full of technology and robots. Robot!yuu was the number one idol during that time and was in the number one group of the century ; vocaloid, imagine during the middle of a performance one of their solo concerts, a black carriage arrived and they suddenly shut down.

They turned on when it was an orientation ceremony. Since robot!yuu isn't technically an organic being, they would be put between the ignihyde dorm or ramshackle.

After Crowley gave them a cellphone or asked idia if he could do maintenance to connect them to social media of twisted wonderland, by doing this they started to upload their albums towards the internet and it blew up, people are loving it, it's getting headlines about a new genre of music, and the music getting about stream by millions around the world, Robot!yuu created a genre of music. A revaluation towards the music Industry.

This managed robot!yuu to get rich overnight and allowed them to buy more expensive and to fix the ramshackle dorm more to get more expensive technology for their maintenance, Robot!yuu was planning on giving half of the money to Crowley as a thanks but he only received 1/4 half of the money.

Even tho robot! yuu is an idol, their master builds them with an offensive and defensive system, they have extremely tough metal that is hard to find as well an offensive mode, they have a lot on their arsenal attacks, energy beams, rocket launchers, shield mode, and more.

They are also able to connect to any device and hack it without any issue, they manage to hack ignihyde technology without an issue. And they are waterproof

Robot!yuu also can digest and drink things without an issue, they have a special component on their stomach to make sure they can digest things normally.

During VDC they dominated the competition. Lasers, mist appears and light sticks wave around for their presence. They change outfits depending on the song, it was literally a Miku concert.

Congratulations neige Leblanc is now one of their fans, when going down the stage, he literally ran towards you and started asking a billion of questions with stars amongst their eyes

Vil was a little sour but also amazed about robot!yuu performance, he would ask them for choreography and music ideas from them as well as fashion opinions. He originally wanted robot!yuu to transfer into ignihyde but they refused due to ignihyde has the complete equipment for them or ramshackle.

Pomifiore dorm started to take notes and tried robot!yuu fashion styles. Idia is also a supporter of them and basically a super fan, robot!yuu would come to ignihyde to help him with games or help him maintain ortho, Robot!yuu is basically a sister towards Idia and Ortho.

sorry if it's short, this is by far I could come up anon

[shintaru]

Make me sweat, make me hotter | Joker

Nsfw headcanons ♡ taglist ♡ m.list

Warnings: cream pie, unprotected sex, slight choking & spanking, not proof read

Joker has an upcoming fight with another undefeated fighter. This fighter is from the underground fighting ring in England considering how famous he is Wooin & Joker take it as an opportunity to make some money. You overhear Joker telling Wooin he wants 30% of what’s received. “With how much we will make you could have more, this guy is famous” Wooin responds, Joker doesn't reply, he just stays silent. The silence between the two doesn’t last long when you hear Wooin burst out laughing saying “this will be fun” rolling your eyes at your boyfriends crazy friend you head back to the room where Joker prepares for his fights.

The room has a few lockers, a bed for fighters to rest and be patched up after a match, some chairs and a table and lastly some boxing equipment. You’re cleaning his gloves for the match when he walks in. “Are you ready for your match? It starts in a hour an a half” you reply. You can tell with his lack of responses that he’s in his head about this match. He appears calm on the outside he can hide his emotions well besides anger other than that it’s hard to know how he’s feeling. But you’ve known him long enough to know when something is up.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask him. Once again he doesn’t reply. You sigh and walk behind him. You rub his back and say “you know I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong” he stands up turning to face you. “Sleep with me” he says almost demandingly. “A nap before the match sounds good” you reply. “No, I don’t want to take a nap, I want you to have sex with me”

He replies. You burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting that” you say hoping he won’t take offense to your laughter. You give him your consent and he practically drags you over to the bed.

Joker pulls you into a surprisingly soft kiss with how eager he seems to get you under him. Pulling all your clothes off you start to lay down but he interrupts you saying “I want you to sit on my face” you can feel the heat rushing to your face the thought of that position is so embarrassing. You’ve been with Joker for a few years but you still get a little shy in bed. Knowing this Joker doesn’t ever push you into things you don’t want but sometimes he likes experimenting with new positions.

You don’t even know how he got you here. You’re gripping the headboard with your head thrown back moaning his name. A name not many get to call him. Your thighs are caging his face beneath you his hands are on your hips gripping them tightly holding you in place. He is sucking on your clit dragging his tongue over your most sensitive parts. Earning many moans and praises from you. He picks up the pace a little, making you moan. “J I’m close” you tell him. He guides your hips back and forth on him so now you’re grinding on his face. Grabbing and pulling on his hair you cum on his tongue with a loud moan. “Hajun” is all you can get out feeling him clean up the mess you made all over his face.

He then tells you to get on your knees. You do so watching him undress admiring his toned well built body. He is now in nothing but his underwear standing in front of you. You help him take his underwear off looking up at him towering above you. You take his cock in your hand feeling his thickness. He tells you to suck on his cock. You lick the precum off his tip slowly taking half his length in your mouth. He doesn’t like how slow you’re going you can tell by the way his eyebrows furrow. He grabs the back of your head with both hands fucking your face at a relentless pace having you deep throat his length hardly being able to breathe. Tears streaming down your face, you’re grabbing his thighs looking up at him hoping he’ll slow down so you can breathe. You’re gagging on his cock but still taking all of him in the bavk of your throat. He does one last thrust cumming in the back of your throat and pulling out. He makes you swallow all of it.

You attempt to wipe your face, probably doing a horrible job. Joker helps you stand, taking your thighs in his hands he lifts you up placing your thighs around his waist. You wrap your arms around his neck. You kiss him, sticking his tongue in your mouth you feel him switch to holding you up with one arm. With his other arm he takes the tip rubbing it across your folds making you moan into the kiss. Pushing his tip in making you drag your nails between his shoulder blades for sure leaving scratches. He places his hands on your hips pushing you down on his length once he’s all the way in he picks you up by your thighs bouncing you up and down on him. Breaking the kiss you moaning “hajun”. He lets you cum first. Feeling you clench around him and tighten your grip on his shoulders he continues fucking into you.

“Slow down” you tell him, needing a little break after your orgasm. He doesn’t listen, picking up the pace making you cry into his shoulder. You feel his cock twitching inside you and you know he’s close with on the last thrust he releases his load inside you. You know he’s not satisfied yet, sex with him only ends after multiple rounds.

Carrying you to the edge of the bed he sits down pulling you onto his lap. Lining up with your entrance he tells you to ride him. You push his tip in sliding down on him all the way. You’re bouncing up and down on him moaning. He is leaving a trail of kisses all down your neck occasionally sucking on the skin leaving a few hickeys. Taking your breast in his mouth he sucks on your nipple and fondles with your other breast until you aren’t going as fast as he likes. He slaps your ass really hard causing you to yelp out loud. His grip tightening on your hips slamming you up and down on his cock while thrusting in and out you. “Fuck, just like that so close” he says under his breath by your ear. His voice pushing you over the edge you feel another orgasm washing over you.

Without pulling out he flips you over so your underneath him, without warning he is thrusting in and out of you with a relentless pace chasing his own climax. His fast rough pace causes his dick to repeatedly hit your cervix making you cry and moan his name. His hands are placed beside your head gripping the sheets tightly reading under his arms you scratch all down his back. you’ll feel him cum again pushing your legs up as far as they go resting them over his shoulders. Caging your head between your knees he will once again pick up his rough relentless pace as you moan his name.

Taking your legs off his shoulders spreading them further apart he leans back watching his cock disappear into you. With one hand wrapping around your throat he tells you to cum one last time for him. You squirt on his cock and he cums once again watching his glistening cock go in and out of your hole fucking your mixed juices back into you.

He leans down kissing you, switching you both where he is lying behind you with his arms around your waist pulling the blanket over you both. With thirty five minutes to spare you both fall asleep

Dedicated to @inosukehana @cozyunderworld

[yeomongi]

𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 — ᡣ𐭩

genre : smut / kinda angsty??

pairing : hongjoong x you

word count : idk i lost track… maybe around 1.5k-2k?

warnings : y/n is highkey schizophrenic , hj basically isn’t real, unprotected sex, oral sex (m & f receiving,) cum swallowing, creampie, fingering, mentions of pills/meds, crying, lmk if i forgot anything! no proofread sorry for mistakes

synopsis : y/n, locked in an asylum, insists they were in the studio with hongjoong, a brilliant music producer who believed in their talent. they cling to vivid memories of his touch, his encouragement, and a crumpled note he left behind, which they thought was real… but the nurses call it a delusion, and as doubt creeps in, y/n struggles to hold on to what’s real—or risk losing him forever.

notes : THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!! it was from a request based off of a tiktok, and its actually so different and cool from what i’ve written before! i’m quite proud of this one, i hope everyone else enjoys it! <3 reblogs and interactions appreciated :3

“i was in the studio with him!!”

your voice cracks, raw from screaming, but you keep yelling. the nurses’ hands are firm on your arms as they drag you down the hall, your feet scraping against the floor tiles. the fluorescent lights above buzz incessantly, and the smell of disinfectant stings your nose.

“he was right there!” you cry, twisting in their grip. “we worked on the track together! i can still feel—”

the words choke in your throat as they shove you into your room. you stumble forward, catching yourself on trembling knees. the door slams shut behind you, locking you in with your memories and the padded walls.

you press your palms to the floor, cold and unyielding beneath your touch. your chest heaves, tears streaming down your face, but the ache inside you is worse.

“hongjoong,” you whisper, your voice cracking as you say his name.

his name, a lifeline in a sea of disbelief.

you curl into yourself, knees tucked to your chest, as you try to hold on to what little of him you have left. you can still feel it if you concentrate—his touch.

the memory rises unbidden, vivid as the moment it happened.

———

you were in the studio with him, and everything had felt so right. the low hum of the equipment had filled the room, punctuated by the steady beat of the track you were working on together. hongjoong sat next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. his presence was grounding, a warm anchor in the chaotic swirl of creativity.

“try this,” he’d said, leaning over to guide your hand to the control board. his fingers had brushed against yours, soft but sure, and your heart had stuttered in your chest.

“like this?” you’d asked, your voice shaky, the proximity making your skin tingle.

he shook his head with a giggle. hongjoong scooted even closer, your thigh now pressed against his.

“here, maybe this way…” he placed his hands over yours, guiding you to press the right buttons.

hongjoong must’ve heard the way your breath hitched, or the way you tensed under his touch, because he turned his head to look at you. but his gaze was different then normal. his gaze was full of lust.

you feel his fingers gently cup your face, his touch electric against your skin. the warmth of his breath tickles your lips as he leans in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. your hearts pound in sync, the tension between you two palpable.

his lips meet yours in a slow, tender kiss - just a brush of warmth that leaves you craving more. he pulls back, just enough to whisper against your mouth, his voice low and husky.

“can i?”

you nod, unable to speak, your body humming with anticipation. the second kiss is deeper, hungrier, his tongue grazing your lower lip before slipping inside your mouth. you gasp, the sweetness of his kiss making your knees weak.

you wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the strong line of it under your fingers. he deepens the kiss further, hands moving to cradle your head, one hand tangling into your hair. his fingers intertwine with yours, breaking the kiss momentarily, but he does not let go.

his lips trail down your jaw, nibbling at the sensitive spot beneath your ear, sending shivers down your spine. he murmurs your name, y:n , a prayer or a promise, it's hard to tell.

returning to your mouth, the kiss becomes frantic now, all-consuming. you can feel his heart pounding in time with your own, his body pressed flush against you, hands roaming freely.

you bite down gently on his bottom lip, a bold move that makes him groan. he smiles into the kiss, the sound sending a thrill through you, spurring you on.

hands fidgeting with each other's clothing, seeking closer contact, sealing your bodies together in this intimate dance. his hands span your back, holding you close as the kiss continues its fiery rhythm.

your fingers tangling in his hair as he kisses a scorching path down your neck, over your chest, until he reaches the throbbing pulse between your legs. he looks up at you, eyes burning with desire, before gently spreading your legs wider.

you nod, granting him permission to unravel you. his fingers dance across your thighs, feather-light touches that have you arching into him. he traces the outline of your underwear, feeling the dampness seeping through the fabric, before hooking his fingers beneath it.

the anticipation is almost unbearable as he slowly removes your last layer of clothing, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze. he leans in, breath hot against your slick folds, inhaling your scent deeply.

your back arches as his tongue finally makes contact, lapping at your entrance before swirling around your clit. the pleasure is exquisite, overwhelming. he builds a steady rhythm, alternating between long lingering strokes and quick flicks that keep you right on the edge.

his strong arms wrap around your legs, pulling you even closer to his mouth. two fingers slide inside you, pumping in tandem with his tongue's ministrations. a chorus of moans fills the room, yours mixing with his satisfied groans.

each stroke of his velvety tongue sends shockwaves of pleasure crashing through you. he finds that spot within you that makes your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him not to stop.

the tension within you coils tighter, every nerve singing with ecstasy. he senses your impending release, doubling his efforts as you start to tremble. your climax hits hard, wave after wave washing over you. you cry out his name as your body convulses, every muscle clenching around his fingers.

he doesn't cease until the last aftershock subsides, slowly easing you down from your peak.

once you come down from your high, you become acutely aware of the swollen length straining against Hongjoong's pants. your gaze locks with his, desire still smoldering brightly. without a word, you begin to unfasten his belt, yearning to return the intense pleasure he just gave you.

he lifts his hips to aid you, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothes. the sight alone makes your mouth water. you grasp it firmly, feeling its weight, the velvety skin sliding over the hard shaft. before starting, you gaze up at him, a silent question in your eyes, which he answers with a nod and a whispered 'please.'

a shiver runs through you as you take him into your mouth for the first time. you explore his length with your tongue, tasting the saltiness mixed with musky arousal. your lips glide up and down, picking up rhythm as you grow more confident. above you, Hongjoong moans, fingers twisting in your hair, encouraging you deeper.

you take him all the way to the base, nose pressed against his groin, feeling him hit the back of your throat. it's intense, but the sounds he makes spur you on. you suck hard while stroking what your mouth can't reach, your hands in perfect harmony.

pre-cum trickles onto your tongue, its bittersweet flavor urging you onward. Hongjoong's breathing grows ragged, hips rocking into the wet heat of your mouth as the tension builds. you know he's close, and the thought of tasting him send a thrill through you.

with a few final expert bobs of your head, he cries out your name, his cock erupting. hot jets of cum coat your throat, some slipping past your lips, only adding to the intoxicating mix you swallow greedily. every pulse from him sends shivers down your spine, prolonging the intense sensation.

once spent, he gently slips from your mouth, helping you up onto shaky legs. his fingertips trace your swollen lips, his gaze full of admiration.

the heady rush of what you've just shared leaves you craving more. a new kind of urgency has taken hold as Hongjoong positions you before the studio desk, bending you over it. you feel exposed, vulnerable, yet a thrill courses through you at his silent command.

steadying yourself on your elbows, you lift your hips, inviting him home. he wastes no time, fingers gripping your thighs as he teases your entrance with his tip. your breath catches, anticipating the feel of him inside you.

with one powerful thrust, he fills you completely, drawing a sharp moan from your parted lips. he sets a demanding pace, pulling back only to plunge in deep once more, eliciting waves of pleasure that build within you anew.

your nails dig into the desk edge, anchoring yourself as he drives into you - hard and relentless. Hongjoong hits that sweet spot inside you over and over again, sending stars dancing behind your closed eyes. his grunts mingle with your cries, the primal sounds igniting your arousal higher.

"you feel so fucking good, y/n," he growls, leaning over you, his pace never faltering as he pounds you from behind. you push back in sync, meeting each forceful snap of his hips, hungry for every inch.

the desk creaks beneath you, echoing the rhythm of your bodies colliding. his hands leave your thighs to caress your body - your breasts, your waist - claiming every part of you. Your moans rise louder, breathless pleas for more.

he angles himself differently, brushing against your g-spot with each thrust. your orgasm builds like an unstoppable tidal wave, white-hot and all-consuming. your inner walls start to flutter around his thick length, telling signs of your impending climax.

"cum for me, Y/N," he commands, voice thick with desire. that single instruction sends you spiraling over the edge. you cry out his name as you come undone, pussy clenching down hard on his cock.

the feeling of you pulsating around him triggers his own release, his hot seed shooting deep inside of your used cunt, groaning loudly as he did so.

he pulled out, biting his lip in awe as he watched his seed leak out from your hole. he grabbed a tissue and cleaned you up, then pulled you to sit on his lap while he finished up some more work he had to do.

occasionally, he’d let you help him with something. perhaps finding the right beat, or adding in background vocals into a song.

“don’t stop,” he’d said, his voice soft, eyes searching yours. “you’re talented, y/n. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

you’d swallowed hard, the sincerity in his gaze overwhelming. “thank you,” you’d whispered.

then, before you could say anything else, he’d pulled you into a hug. his arms had wrapped around you, firm but tender, and you’d felt the solid warmth of him seep into you. he smelled faintly of cologne and coffee, and the way his hands had rested against your back made you feel safe.

“you’ve got this,” he’d murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “don’t forget.”

———

and with that the memory ended. you clutch at your chest now, the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin. the warmth of his hug feels so real, so tangible, even as you sit in the cold, empty room.

“it was real,” you whisper to yourself, rocking slightly. “i was there. he hugged me. we fucked. he said i was talented.”

you close your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks as you try to hold on to the memory. but doubt creeps in, like it always does. what if it wasn’t real?

no. it was real.

your hand trembles as you dig into your pocket, pulling out the crumpled piece of paper you’ve kept hidden for so long. his handwriting stares back at you, messy but unmistakable.

“keep creating, y/n. the world needs your sound. - hongjoong”

your breath hitches as you read it again, for what must be the thousandth time. it’s proof, isn’t it?

“he’s real,” you whisper, clutching the paper to your chest. “he’s real, and he’ll come for me. he promised.”

the sound of the lock turning startles you, and you scramble to your feet before the door creaks open. part of you hoped it was hongjoong. but a nurse steps inside, a tray of pills in her hand.

“y/n,” she says, her voice calm but detached. “time for your medication.”

you shake your head, backing away from her. “no. i don’t need them.”

“y/n,” she says again, her tone firmer now. “this will help you. you’re confused. hongjoong isn’t real.”

“don’t say that!” you snap, your voice breaking. “he is real, and i have proof! look at this note he wrote me—“

but as you scramble to show her the note that was in your hands, you realize it’s gone. you frantically search around, checking all your pockets and the floor around you.

“no, no…” you whisper frantically, voice shaking. the realization hits you, as you fall to your knees and bury your face in your hands.

maybe he wasn’t real. maybe you were crazy.

[sulfies]

If I Lead (pt3)

Part 2 here

Vincesco stood true by his word.

 Desmond didn't even need to use most of his skillset which he was happy about. He took it easy and dodged when he needed and accepted some punches when It seemed like he was going overboard. He was not trying to climb the ranks in a race and make a name, he just needed to be off the training wheels. And It had worked. The young lad looked a bit pissed off about not winning against him but Desmond didn't care much about it.

The next day he was given instructions and pocket money to get himself some gear that fitted him. Now equipped with warmer clothes and shoes that actually fit he was faring better. 

Marsilio also was paying him quite a good amount of money for basically doing nothing but walking around and swinging his sword to train every now and then…. He really couldn't understand why the mercenaries complained about Ezio cutting their wages since he became in charge, just how much Mario was paying them before?

A month passed in this new lazy routine.

He made home in his guard tower. He was used to sleeping outside and wasting money on rent seemed unnecessary when he had little to no belongings. He bought himself some extra blankets to cushion the stone ground and shield from the cold wind at night. His lodging was enough for him.

He was rarely in it unless he was sleeping anyway.

He would wake up before dawn, bathe in the stream right outside the village a few minutes away if he needed, and then he would make his way to the barracks.

It was peaceful really…

He was terribly bored.

There was not much for him to do, sometimes he would get called to patrol outside the woods to see if any bandits were camping around but they have yet to see one since he has been here. Every now and then he would group with some people for training, but most of the time he was left alone as long as he reported to the barracks first thing of the day.

He had taken hunting as a hobby, going out around mid-noon to catch some small game to bring to the butcher. It gave him food and some extra savings money. He wanted to save enough to buy a horse so he could travel without problems, taking detours if he needed but horses were expensive. 

The barracks stable had a few but they all had their owners and the ones that did not were there if the need arose.  Also, he really wasn't looking to be known as -the horse thief-.

Sometimes Vincesco would call him over to go for a drink at the tavern, each time he would accept with the guilt eating him from inside out. He was not supposed to lay around and get drunk. He had people he needed to get back to, people who he was to guide but he could not refuse his bosses.

So he would drink a mug or two of the piss-tasting beer, the cheapest money could find as slowly as he could till the rest were drunk enough for them to not realize he was faking his stumbles on the street. Once everyone parted he would climb up to his den and force himself to sleep.

He was going mad.

Desmond wasn't used to being this useless. He was used to waking up and having a mission to complete.

Find us a new water-source Desmond, We need food Desmond the field has yet to yield any, Desmond help us move this rocks over so we can prepare the shelter, Desmond climb up the mountain to see if there is anything that survived

and he did it all without complaints.

He travelled for days or months to see if there was anything new, he noted down any new changes he could see. He helped Shaun with whatever he needed his strength or body for. He helped Rebecca gather whatever supply she was going to need to make their lives easier. That was his job.

He was there to calm the people down, remind them that gods had not forsaken them but they had been given a new beginning. To not panic but have hope so humankind could survive long after them.

It was all bullshit really, to keep the leftover people from going mad. 

In the darkest times, religion was most of the time the home of hope they needed to shelter in. But it had worked.

They had a functioning farm, bushes that yielded berries, small huts that gave lodging to people. They were actually seeing growth after 20 years, grass was filling the land and young trees were growing taller. They were finally getting somewhere so Desmond had left on a new expedition to find some more survivors further back from the camp to see if anyone was left.

And then he was here.

Lying on his blankets he watched the stars, tracing the groups with his eyes trying to remember the names Shaun taught them, the ones he couldn't remember without his books, Rebecca had made up stupid nicknames for.

He missed them terribly nowadays… Even his father.

William had died just three years ago. The grief lingered more than he had expected. All the issues they had before seemed so small after the flare, they never patched things up but they didn't fight like they used to. Desmond knew he bore some guilt about convincing him to not go through with the shields. They all did.

They each had their turns to cry, shout and laugh crazy about it then cry some more. The three blamed themselves which in turn made Desmond blame himself more. It was an endless cycle they decided to put behind themselves to focus on the now. 

Desmond turned to his side, inhaling deeply, his hair tickling his neck from the wind. He listened to the nocturnal birds and closed his eyes. He hoped they were safe above all else. 

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

Two weeks passed by fast and Desmond's routine did not change. Wake up, bathe, barracks, busywork, hunt, do something… anything… then sleep. He had taken to sharpening the unused swords and upkeep of them for today's activity since no one else was bothering to do it. 

Near a clearing around the stable, he was sitting on a stool, sharpening one sword after another with a whetstone on his lap, adding them to a pile. 

“Actually working for your coins Domenico? You should join the others inside for a few cups.”

He looked at the voice that was calling him. Angelo, one from Marsillios circle. He gave a polite smile back. “Not much to do and I don't like drinking while the sun is up, gives me issues at night.” 

“Smart man, keeping your soldier ready for when it's needed.”

Desmond made a face at the joke, He never stepped a foot in the brothel. A lot of the recruit's freshly earned coins ended up in there almost the day they gained them… then trickled back into the economy. He did not want to think about the amount of STD’s circulating around. Even if everyone was magically clean… sex had been the last thing on his mind for a long while.

“Please, If the wife learned I even dared to breathe next to one of the honey pots she would have my head.” 

“Oh come on, how would she even know?”

He hummed in answer and smiled “Trust me she would… and I like to keep my manhood intact till I die”

Angelo laughed and walked near him. Eyeing the swords lying on a pile on the side, the ones that were ready to be polished.

“Needed me for anything?” 

The other man shifted his weight “Marsillio wanted me to let people know to be extra sharp the next few days, actually do what he says and whatnot… not that you need a reminder.”

“Why is that? Is Ser Mario coming to check the barracks again?” He had seen him a couple of times, the man usually looked around for a few minutes then joined the backroom to talk about what he needed to.

“Nah, the actual big boss is coming back any day now. Sent in a word with his bird, arrived just an hour ago to the villa.”

Desmond's whole body tensed in a second. It was not hard to figure out who the nickname belonged to.

Ezio was coming back.

He forced himself to relax. “A-ah… so we need to be on our best behaviour?”

“Mmhm. You might be asked to go to the training grounds a bit more and longer than you are used to, we need to look busy lest we want more budget cuts. The young master has already been bleeding us dry…”

Desmond gave a nervous chuckle and placed the sword in his hand on the pile. “Alright, no problem for me but I know a lot of the kids are going to groan and moan about it”

“Yeah they already are, Vinchesco is not happy about it so I'm sending you up next to him for morale.” A soft pat landed on his shoulder “Think yourself as second in charge. A small promotion with no pay raise”

Angelo left his side with a smile.

“Great”

Not great… he couldn't even hide next to the recruits as they trained.

He might visit the church just to pray and hope that Ezio doesn't give a shit about the training area and just passes by it. 

Maybe he could fake a stomachache or the plague… ask for a toilet break as soon as Ezio stepped foot through the gates…

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

For two days Desmond’s every limb was aware of every movement and talk around him. They were patrolling a lot more and training a lot longer. 

He wished he was just given the duty of cleaning around the barracks but Vincheso liked him for some reason enough to ask him to stick by his side.

“If I have to hear any more whining I might actually have them train till sunrise…”

Desmond shrugged his shoulders and he listened to him complain, not much different than the recruits. He figured it out the second day while Vinchesco’s job was to babysit the newbies, Desmond’s job was to babysit him. “You know if you guys were more strict from the get-go they wouldn't feel this comfortable crying about it.”

“And make my own job harder? Training doesn't teach a man how to swing a sword anyway, they actually need to fight to become man is what I think. I sure didn't learn how to kill from stabbing these stupid straw dummies couple times a day.”

“I'm not sure just charging into the enemy will teach them much is all I’m saying… well other than dying.”

Vinchesco leaned back onto the railing “Meh, I send the ones that show promise to the others that actually put them to work.” he waved his hand around “All this is just, keeping the meatshields sharper.”

Desmond sighed, what a way to raise an army… Ezio really needed to keep tighter reins around these bunch and overhaul the system… but he rather Ezio do that once he got to Venice and away from here.

“You are way too uptight Dominico. It's good here. We get coin, we get food, we drink then we fuck and then we sleep. Living it up like nobles almost… you should enjoy it more, I’m sure you fought plenty of battles in your youth but this is not a battlefield and we got Ser Ezio behind us if else happens. The man is his own army.”

Desmond's jaw clenched, old memories of the fall of this Monterriggioni flashing in his mind. No wonder no one was alerted till it was too late… he always thought the Village was captured way too easily.

“Mmhm… I'll try” he smiled back with a strain “Old habits die hard, that's all… the guard schedule back in Florence was way more strict.”

“More the reason to-”  “HE IS BACK! SER EZIO IS BACK”

A shout cut off Vinchesco’s word, The messenger ran towards them. 

Desmon felt the anxiety boil in his gut

“Shit…”

[inkspiredwriting]

The Mind’s Maze

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Y/N had always known she was different. From a young age, she could sense the emotions of others, feel their thoughts brushing against hers. As she grew older, her abilities became more pronounced, evolving into the power to manipulate consciousness itself. She could delve into minds, influence thoughts, even alter memories. But with great power came great fear—fear of losing control, of unintentionally causing harm.

That’s where Number Five came in. He had experienced his own struggles with his powers, and he understood the burden Y/N carried. They had met during one of Five’s missions, and their connection had been immediate and deep. Now, they were inseparable, and Five was determined to help Y/N master her abilities.

One crisp morning, Five and Y/N stood in the training room of the Umbrella Academy. The room was spacious and bright, filled with various equipment designed to test and hone their unique skills. Y/N looked around, feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety.

“Are you ready?” Five asked, his voice steady and reassuring.

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Five smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Remember, Y/N, the key to controlling your powers is to stay calm and focused. Your mind is a powerful tool, and you need to trust yourself.”

Y/N nodded again, closing her eyes and centering herself. “Okay. What’s first?”

“We’ll start with something simple,” Five said. “I want you to focus on me and try to sense what I’m thinking.”

Y/N took a deep breath and focused on Five. She felt the familiar sensation of her consciousness reaching out, brushing against his mind. It was like dipping her toes into a cool stream, the thoughts and emotions flowing around her. She concentrated, trying to tune into his specific thoughts.

“I can feel you,” she said softly. “You’re thinking about... me. About us.”

Five smiled. “Good. Now, I want you to go a bit deeper. Try to influence my thoughts. Just a small suggestion.”

Y/N hesitated. This was the part that scared her the most—using her powers to change someone’s mind. She didn’t want to hurt Five, didn’t want to overstep her bounds. But she trusted him, and she knew he wouldn’t let anything bad happen.

“Okay,” she said, focusing again. She reached deeper into Five’s mind, feeling the layers of his thoughts. She concentrated on a simple suggestion: “Raise your right hand.”

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, Five’s right hand began to lift. Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise and relief. She had done it. She had influenced his thoughts without losing control.

“Excellent,” Five said, lowering his hand. “You’re doing great, Y/N. Now let’s try something a bit more challenging.”

They spent the next few hours practicing, with Five guiding Y/N through various exercises. He encouraged her to delve deeper into his mind, to influence more complex thoughts and emotions. Y/N’s confidence grew with each success, her fear gradually giving way to a sense of empowerment.

After a particularly intense session, Five called for a break. They sat together on the floor, leaning against the wall. Y/N was exhausted but exhilarated. She had made more progress in one day than she had in months.

“You’re a natural,” Five said, handing her a bottle of water. “You just needed to believe in yourself.”

Y/N smiled, taking a sip of water. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Five. You make me feel safe. You make me feel like I can do anything.”

Five’s expression softened, and he reached out to take her hand. “You’re stronger than you realize, Y/N. You’ve got an incredible gift, and with time and practice, you’re going to master it.”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “Thank you, Five. For everything.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Then, Five stood up, extending a hand to help Y/N to her feet.

“Ready for one more exercise?” he asked.

Y/N took his hand, pulling herself up. “Always.”

Five led her to the center of the room, his expression turning serious. “This time, I want you to try something different. I want you to enter my mind fully. See if you can navigate through my memories.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? That’s... that’s pretty invasive.”

“I trust you,” Five said firmly. “And I think you’re ready for it. Just remember to stay calm and focused. I’ll be right here with you.”

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement. She closed her eyes and reached out with her consciousness, delving deeper into Five’s mind than ever before. She felt herself slipping into his memories, seeing flashes of his past.

There were moments of pain and loneliness, scenes of him wandering through the apocalypse, struggling to survive. But there were also moments of joy and love—memories of their time together, the bond they had formed.

As she navigated through his memories, Y/N felt a profound connection to Five. She saw the world through his eyes, understood his struggles and triumphs. It was a deeply intimate experience, one that left her feeling closer to him than ever before.

When she finally pulled back, returning to her own consciousness, she found Five watching her with a look of awe and affection.

“You did it,” he said softly. “You really did it.”

Y/N smiled, tears of relief and happiness in her eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Five. Thank you for trusting me.”

Five pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close. “I’ll always trust you, Y/N. You’re stronger and braver than you know.”

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N felt a sense of peace and confidence she had never known before. With Five by her side, she knew she could face anything. Together, they would navigate the complexities of her powers and the challenges of their lives, stronger and more united than ever.

[soft-girl-musings]

Cry (MK Spring Bingo #1)

Marc Spector x Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: panic/anxiety attacks, possibly inaccurate description of an emergency room visit (i don't remember the exact process i borrowed from my own experience bc i was sick… in the ER…), no use of y/n

wc: 1,356

fic summary: Three times Marc told you it was okay to cry, and one time you returned the favor.

A/N: Finally got around to writing something for someone besides jake lockley, bless. once again this is self-indulgent, but if anything hits home for you i'm glad <3 (based on Adam Melchor's "Cry" , which is the most marc-coded piece of music i've ever heard. in this essay i will)

_____________________

The first time came out of nowhere.

Nothing was wrong per se; no major injury or crisis had come up. All you knew was that you were frozen in the corner of your room, hot tears streaming down your face as your mind raced between a million different things.

“Sweetheart, have you seen my–” Marc’s request stopped the moment he saw you frozen in the darkened room, gripping the sleeves of your shirt as you bit your lip so hard you risked giving yourself another reason to cry.

“I just need a minute,” your voice came out trembling and heavy, as if too many syllables would cause the tears to fall with greater force. Not that you knew how to stop them, or how they even started.

Quick strides across the room brought Marc to your side. His warm hands wrapped around yours, cold and losing color from digging into your arms. 

Words were never his strong suit; Marc’s a man of few, usually letting his presence and actions suffice. So when faced with consoling you against some invisible threat, he could almost hear the sound of his own heart breaking in tandem with your staggered breath.

So he stood there. Until your fingers relaxed and entwined with his, he stood there until he could guide you to the floor. Arms wrapped around your shoulders, he cradled you as you continued to cry.

“This is so stupid,” you groaned as you wiped your face with your sleeve. “So fucking… ugh.”

“Hey,” he shushed you. “Not stupid. You’re feeling what you’re feeling.”

“But I don’t know why,” you choked out. It was hard enough being so distraught; not having a valid reason for it made everything hurt more.

“You don't have to justify it. Don't have to do anything but just… be here.” A hand to your temple eased your head against his chest. “I'm here, as long as you need me to be.”

This was all the permission you needed to let another rush of tears spill down your cheeks, soaking his shirt. He didn't mind.

___________________

The second time was in the emergency room.

You'd never struggled to catch your breath like this before; a common cold turned south and triggered long-dormant childhood asthma, making your lungs betray the rest of your body. Marc drove you to the ER when your hollow coughing didn't let up for the third day in a row. Head spinning and chest aflame, you were rushed to the back as soon as Marc told them you couldn't breathe.

“You've got to breathe steady, honey.”

“I'm trying,” you muttered around the medicated tube in your mouth. It had to be almost 3 in the morning; your body ached like crazy and you didn't catch a word of what the nurse told you to do with your medication. All you knew was that you were cold, exhausted, and grateful to have Marc there to time your breathing.

But even with his hand holding yours, you still felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Every inhalation brought medicine to your airways, but the ragged sensation resonated through your chest and made your body ache more.

“I'm so tired,” you finally said around the device. With that, your tears fell faster than you could swipe at them. Your frown pushed the device from your mouth, but you didn't care.

Marc sprang up, catching the equipment when your grip faltered. He said nothing; instead, he climbed onto the bed with you, leaning your back against his chest and taking your hand in his once more, bringing the medication back to your lips. You let him bear your weight, immediate relief washing over you as he took over keeping the device steady with one hand and gently dabbing a tissue at your cheek with the other. 

“Nothing wrong with a few tears, honey. Means you’re alive.”

When you finally went home, the fire in your lungs extinguished, he held you again until you fell asleep.

_____________________

“.....The movie just started.”

(The third time was on the living room couch.)

You had finally talked Marc into watching La La Land with you (with the promise of his getting to choose the next movie night film, of course). You were barely 30 seconds into the opening number when you'd started crying, eyes glued to the screen as dozens of up-and-comers danced and sang about their dreams to make it in the industry.

“They haven't said anything.”

“They're saying everything.”

“He's dancing on a car.”

“Because he's excited!”

“Why did they stop traffic to dance?”

You didn't hear the rest of his quips, too engrossed in the scene. The colors, the music, and the highly impractical interstate  choreography had a way of getting to you ever since you first saw this movie. Meanwhile, Marc sat with his arms crossed and eyebrows knit together as he tried to follow along.

When you noticed his body language, you reached for the remote and paused the movie. “Do you… want to watch something else?”

Marc's face fell when he realized this new batch of tears wasn’t because of the movie, but because of him. The thought of making your cry hit like a punch to the gut.

He took the remote from you, moving closer to your side. “Nice try, but you're not getting out of it that easily. I need your commentary if I'm gonna keep up.” He hit play and choked down every criticism as he saw your face light up, tears of joy brimming during the remaining 2 hours of the film.

The next morning, while making breakfast, you could have sworn you heard Marc humming Another Day of Sun under his breath.

_____________________

As you'd grown closer, you began to know Marc as your rock, your steady landing place when you had thoughts and feelings too big to deal with on your own. He never had to say much to be there for you. He kept you tethered and together, happy to be of service no matter how ugly your hardships felt. 

It was only a matter of time before you saw a crack in his foundation.

You got home late one night, a thunderstorm hot on your heels. You had shrugged off your coat and shoes, calling out to Marc to see if he was home. No response.

You checked each room diligently, until you found him sitting on the corner of the bed.

“Marc?” You asked softly, walking toward him. You knelt in front of him, and the sight of his face twisted into an unfamiliar expression, a steady stream of tears spilling from his reddened eyes, was more than you could bear.

The first time came out of nowhere.

“Can you give me your hands, Marc?” He complied, his breath short and his eyes fixed on the storm pelting the window with sheet after sheet of rain. His vision darted between drops of water and streaks of lightning. The room shook with the echoes of thunder as the worst of the storm hit.

“Hey,” you urged him. “Just be here. With me.” Your thumb traced his wrist as you tried to stay calm.  “Can you breathe with me, Marc?” You sat up on your knees. He nodded, slowly but surely matching the pace of your breath. 

You didn't know what was on his mind, only that it was racing. You couldn't tell what had him so worked up, only that his breath escaped him even as you counted to ten again, and again, unrelenting in your focus on him. You had no idea what made your rock, your anchor, cry like this.

Maybe he'd tell you later; maybe it'd remain a mystery. None of that mattered in the moment. All that mattered was the rhythm of your breath as the rain let up; the way his tears drenched your sleeves when you dabbed at his flushed cheeks; the steady thrum of his heart as his body relaxed beside yours. All that mattered was how, with your chest pressed to his back as you lay on top of the bedspread, he let you hold him for a change.

_____________________

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added/taken off this wee tag list)

[pearwaldorf]

We should all say thank you to Jordan Peele for rescuing Monkey Man from streaming because this movie deserves to be seen on a big screen. There was a lot of love and craft put into this movie and I'm glad it can be properly appreciated.

I am pleased to report it absolutely fucks and the soundtrack is banging. It owes a lot to John Wick, of course, but also Atomic Blonde and Hong Kong action movies. (They didn't even use all six shots in the revolver, which was a nice touch.) I would watch a whole John Wick-esque franchise with Dev Patel as an action hero.

If, like me, you are a fan of attractive men suffering and/or getting fucked up, this movie will feed you extremely well.

I'm extremely not familiar with Indian cinema, but it's real interesting watching this after RRR. (To be clear, this is a movie made by somebody of Indian descent, but it is not exactly an Indian movie.) Not just in political outlook (the evil politician and his party are clearly meant to evoke Modi and the BJP), but how they use Hindu religious imagery to frame the story.

[edit:] Netflix gave up the rights to the movie precisely because of the portrayal of the nationalist political party. Well then.

I am not culturally equipped to discuss the role of hijra in Indian society, but it is absolutely significant (and intentional) Patel's character is rescued and guided by a community of hijra. That speaks a great deal to where his social and political allegiances lie, and I'm glad to support that.

[fatecantstopme]

From Past to Future

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: After you and Bucky break up, you end up engaged to Steve. What happens when Bucky comes back into your life two years later?

Warnings: So much angst. Cheating, cursing, use of pet names. Some fluff. SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), slight choking, metal arm kink (choking kink)

Two Years Ago

"Why are you always pushing me away?"

"It's better for you," he said calmly.

"Who are you to decide what's best for me?"

"I know myself better than anyone...I know my past. I know what kind of monster lives inside of me, so if anyone is equipped to decide you're better off without me, it's me."

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"No."

Anger threatened to bubble over. "I can't live like this, James. I can't. I would do anything for you, but I can't make you see that I can handle everything about you, including your past. I'm not afraid of you, but I'm afraid I'm going to lose myself if I keep fighting you like this."

He nodded slowly. "It's better this way."

"How can you be so calm?" you yelled. "Do I really mean so little to you? Did the past year mean nothing?"

He had the decency to look ashamed. "You mean everything to me, that's why I have to let you go."

Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of rage and pain clouding your features. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

He simply shrugged.

You hastily grabbed your jacket, keys, and purse before heading towards the door. You turned back to look at him one last time. "I hope you heal, Bucky, I really do. But I won't be around to see it."

You turned and left the apartment, shutting the door behind you. It felt final, as if you'd just shut the door on your old life. You'd left a piece of your soul in that apartment, a piece you prayed you could learn to live without.

**********

One Year Ago

"You are such a dork."

He grinned ear to ear with pride. "That could be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

You laughed warmly and rolled your eyes. "What are you talking about? I'm always nice to you."

He raised his eyebrow teasingly.

"Alright, alright. I'm mostly nice to you."

He chuckled and tugged you against his chest. "I'll take it."

You giggled as you leaned back against him, gaze wandering out towards the ocean and the beautiful sunset beyond it. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?"

"Every morning."

You looked up at him in confusion.

"I'm blessed to wake up beside the most beautiful woman in the world every day," he said almost reverently.

Your expression softened and you turned to face him, putting your back against the balcony railing. You reached up and caressed his face, eyes shining with emotion. "Steve..." you whispered.

He placed a single finger to your lips to silence whatever you were about to say. He ducked his head to kiss you and you sighed as you melted into him.

After a few moments, he took your hand and guided you back through the open door and into the bedroom.

"I love you," he murmured against your skin as he laid you down on the soft bed.

"I love you too," you said softly, before you got lost in each other for hours.

**********

Two Months Ago

"Seriously? The wedding is in three months!" you yelled into your phone.

Your best friend, Natasha, came into the room when she heard you yell. "What's wrong?" she mouthed at you.

"Well the dress is pretty damn important, don't you think?" you seethed.

Natasha's eyes widened. "What's wrong with the dress?" she asked aloud.

You pulled the phone away from your face. "The tailor lost it."

"What the hell do you mean they lost it?"

You put the phone on speaker so Nat could hear. The man on the other end of the phone was explaining some sort of snafu with the dress and the shop moving locations.

Nat took the phone from your hand. "Let me handle this, okay?"

You sighed and nodded, grateful that she was there to take care of at least some of the wedding issues. Steve had been traveling a lot for work, so the wedding planning had fallen almost exclusively on you. If it hadn't been for Natasha, you were pretty certain you would have lost your mind.

The doorbell rang, bringing you out of your thoughts. You weren't expecting anyone, but you'd been getting a lot of deliveries lately thanks to the upcoming wedding.

You opened the door without checking to see who it was and the moment your eyes focused on the person standing on the porch, you found yourself wishing you'd looked first.

"Hey, (Y/N)."

"What are you doing here?" You winced slightly, the sound of your voice a bit harsher than you'd intended.

"I deserve that," he admitted softly. "I, um...well I heard you were getting married."

You stared at him in shock. "I'm sorry...you heard I was getting married, so you decided it would be a good idea to pay me a visit?"

He looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, well--umm, when you put it like that, it doesn't sound so good."

"You think?"

Once again, the harshness of your voice made you feel terrible. You knew exactly why you were being rude, but you couldn't bear to admit it to yourself. You hadn't expected to see him again, and certainly not like this. What was worse was you hadn't expected to feel like this when you did. Your palms were sweaty, your heart was racing, butterflies danced a merry jig in your stomach...you hated yourself for the emotions that washed over you at the mere sight of him. Hating him too made it that much easier.

"I just, I guess I just wanted to see how you were doing," he mumbled.

"I'm happy, thanks for asking. You can go now."

"(Y/N)..."

"No," you snapped. "No. Don't say my name like that. Don't you dare."

He looked down at the ground and muttered, "I'm sorry."

When you didn't say anything, he looked back up at you.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). For all of it." His words began to come out in a rush, as if he was hoping you wouldn't have time to interrupt him. "You were right. You were right about all of it. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I hurt you. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I wasn't...and you--you deserve an apology. Even if it's two years too late."

Your heart clenched in your chest and tears pricked at the backs of your eyes. You were struggling to find the words to say, to fight through the storm of emotions swirling around you, when Nat came to your rescue.

She appeared beside you, took one look at the man standing on your porch, and said, "I don't know what the hell you're doing here, James, but you need to leave. You have no place in her life anymore...not after all the pain you caused her."

Bucky's blue eyes darkened with sadness. "I know," he said softly. "I just wanted to apologize...and say goodbye."

He turned and began to walk down the stairs. You watched him make his way to his bike before you ran down the steps after him. "Bucky!"

He turned to look at you in surprise. You'd stopped at the bottom of the steps, but he could see the emotion on your face as clearly as if you were an inch from him.

"I forgive you," you whispered so softly he almost missed it. If he hadn't been a super soldier, there was no way he would have heard you.

He nodded his acceptance--his gratefulness--before getting on his motorcycle and driving away.

"You okay?" Nat asked softly as she reached the bottom of the steps.

"Yeah," you lied.

She knew you well enough to recognize the lie, but she also knew better than to push you. When it came to Bucky, you'd always been vulnerable. You'd loved him with everything you had--a kind of fierceness she'd never seen before or since. She'd hoped Steve would change that...that loving him would help you forget Bucky, but when she looked at your face in that moment, she knew you'd never stop loving him.

**********

Present

"I'm getting married in a couple weeks," you said with a sigh. "Can you even believe it?"

"Yeah, babe, I can believe it," Natasha teased. "How excited are you?"

For the first time, you were grateful she wasn't there with you. "I can't wait," you lied. You hoped your voice conveyed excitement, even though your face did not.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Nat asked for the third time in your 20 minute conversation.

You groaned into the phone. "Nat, I'm fine. Now can you stop worrying about me and go enjoy your vacation?"

"It's not as fun without you here," she pouted.

You laughed. "I know, I know. I'm the life of the party."

She laughed too. "I miss you and I'll be home in a couple days."

"Miss you too. Give my love to Bruce."

"I will. Love you."

"Love you too."

You hung up the phone and leaned your head back against the sofa. You hadn't felt right in weeks...not since Bucky Barnes had shown up unannounced on your front porch.

You hated how he made you feel...hated that even after everything, you still loved him. You were engaged to be married to another man for God's sake, but here you were crying on your couch over a relationship that died two years prior.

You hadn't mentioned anything about Bucky's sudden appearance to Steve. You didn't want to upset him...or at least that's what you told yourself. Seeing him had brought back years of emotions you'd buried long before. You didn't think you could explain any of it to Steve without him realizing what you'd been denying for two years: you still loved Bucky.

You'd managed to convince yourself that it was okay to love two people at once...because you did love Steve. You really did. But you would be lying to yourself if you said you loved him more than Bucky. You were grateful you didn't have to choose between the two. You were marrying Steve and that's the way it needed to be. Steve loved you so much and he treated you like a queen. How could you want anything else?

A knock on your door brought you out of your thoughts. At least this time you were expecting a delivery, so you didn't think twice as you opened the door.

"Bucky..." you whispered.

He was standing there, flowers in hand, blue eyes warm and gentle.

"What are you doing here?" you asked softly.

"I needed to see you."

"Bucky, you can't be here."

"Please, (Y/N). Can we just talk?"

"I'm getting married," you said, less firmly than you'd intended.

"I know, doll. That's why I need to talk to you."

Against your better judgment, you turned to the side, allowing him entry.

He stepped past you into the foyer and handed you the flowers. "Um, these are for you."

"Thank you," you said softly. "I'll just...get a vase."

He followed you into the kitchen. "Your home is beautiful."

"Thanks."

He stood awkwardly on the other side of your kitchen island, hands at his sides as if he wasn't sure what he should do with them.

"So...what did you wanna talk about?"

"Us."

"Bucky, we can't--"

"Just let me get this out," he begged. "If you hate what I have to say, you can throw me out...but just listen for a moment."

Tears welled in your eyes and every sensible part of you screamed at you to make him leave, but you couldn't force yourself to move--couldn't say a word.

He took your silence as permission to speak. "When we first met, I was a broken shell of the man I used to be. My past was still so fresh in my mind and I hated myself more passionately than any person should. When you came into my life, I desperately wanted to be the man I was before Hydra...but I couldn't. I was scared of hurting you, scared of what I was capable of and what I might do to you if I lost control. So I pushed you away...until you finally got tired of it. I don't think I'd ever had a broken heart before that day."

Tears streamed steadily down your face as you listened to him speak. You were still frozen in place, his words gluing your feet to the floor.

"It took me a while to realize I could never be that man again...that young, carefree, charming guy. I figured if I couldn't be him, then I was just the monster Hydra made me. All that was left was the Winter Soldier." He paused for a moment. "I didn't want to be him, but it wasn't until I was in Wakanda that things really changed...I changed."

"You were in Wakanda?" you asked softly.

He nodded. "For a while, yeah. I dealt with a lot of my issues and I don't have to fear the trigger words anymore...they have no effect on me. But it wasn't until I received my pardon that I started going to therapy. At first it was because I had to, but after a while, I wanted to go...it was helping me in ways I didn't know I needed. I'm not the person I was before Hydra, but I'm not the Winter Soldier either. I'm just a different version of me...but at the end of the day, I'm still Bucky."

"I'm glad you got the help you needed, Buck. I truly am," you said softly. "But what does any of this have to do with me?"

"I'm getting to that," he answered quickly. "Losing you hurt me infinitely more than I expected it to and at first I wanted to get help so maybe you would want me..." he trailed off for a moment. "I eventually realized I needed to change for myself, not for you. I'm by no means perfect, but I am comfortable with who I am now."

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. "Look, I know my timing is terrible, but I need to say this or I'm going to regret it for the rest of my unnaturally long life." He took a deep breath before continuing, "I fell in love with you the moment I met you. I loved you every day of our relationship and every day since--I've never stopped loving you. I don't think I can--and trust me, I've tried. You've held my heart in the palm of your hand since we first met..."

Bucky took a step towards you, then another, then another, until he was mere inches from you. "You are my heart, (Y/N), and I don't want it back."

"What do you want, Bucky?" you whispered.

"You," he said simply. "You're all I've ever wanted."

You should have pushed him away. You should have told him to leave. Hell, you should have left...but you didn't do any of those things. You didn't pull away when he reached out to wipe your tears from your cheeks. You didn't stop him when he cupped your face in his hands. And you didn't fight him when he pressed his lips against yours.

Instead, you pulled him closer to you as you returned the kiss--the feeling of his lips igniting a fire deep inside you that you'd never felt with anyone else.

What began as a loving kiss, quickly turned to pure desire, a passion so explosive it couldn't be contained. You practically tore each other's clothes off, leaving a trail of clothing from the kitchen to your bedroom.

A tiny voice in the back of your mind told you this was wrong...that you should stop...but you ignored it. Soon, all coherent thoughts slipped from your mind, replaced by overwhelming pleasure.

Sex with Bucky had always been incredible, but this was so far beyond every encounter you'd ever had before. He was comfortable, confident, and so sure of himself--it was the sexiest thing you'd ever seen.

"Bucky," you gasped as he finally entered you after relentlessly teasing you with his mouth, pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body.

"Fuck," he grunted. "I forgot how good you felt."

"So big," you whispered.

He grinned. "Yeah? Well this pussy was made for me, baby. I could stay here forever."

You'd be lying if you said that didn't sound like heaven to you. He felt so incredible...every sensation felt heightened in a way you hadn't felt in years.

His cock brushed against your g-spot with each thrust, turning you into a moaning mess beneath him. "Shit, doll...you gotta stop squeezing me like that or I'm not gonna last."

You'd long since lost control of your body--it was acting entirely of its own volition by this point. All you could do was moan and gasp and dig your nails into his back as he plunged into you again.

Back when you'd first started dating, you'd told Bucky you wanted him to choke you with his metal hand during sex, something he'd vehemently refused to do. He'd been terrified of hurting you, but now as he looked down at you, he found himself wanting to try it.

He gently placed his left hand against the column of your throat, putting only enough pressure for you to know what he was doing. Your eyes widened before rolling back, a moan of need breaking free from your lips.

"You like that, doll?" he whispered.

You nodded rapidly.

He smiled and gave the tiniest squeeze to your throat. You gasped loudly and your nails dug into the flesh of his right bicep. He continued to fuck you as fast and hard as he could, left hand never leaving your throat.

He could tell you were close, but he didn't want you to cum until he did, so he waited until the very last moment before giving your throat another small squeeze. You screamed his name as you came, your orgasm triggering his own. He called out your name as he filled you with his seed, hand slipping from your neck to caress your face.

Bucky's stamina was truly a thing to behold even now. He hovered over you, lips pressed against yours in a heated kiss. Somehow, his cock was still hard, despite having just had the best orgasm in years. Instead of pulling out of you, he began to move again, your shared releases mixing together to provide extra lubricant.

"Bucky," you moaned softly. "What--"

"You didn't really think I was done with you yet, did you doll?"

The sensations began as almost painful, the sensitivity making it hard to enjoy. Within moments though, those sensations turned to pleasure and the need began to pool in your belly again.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked teasingly.

"Don't you dare."

He chuckled darkly and sped up his movements, earning a pleased moan from you.

The two of you were so lost in passion and pleasure, neither of you heard the front door open. Even Bucky missed the telltale signs of someone walking through the house towards the bedroom door.

"What the hell is going on here?"

The sound of your fiancé's voice brought you suddenly back to reality. You wanted to sink into the floor and never come back out.

Bucky's first instinct was to protect you, but when he turned his head to look at the newcomer, he felt nothing but shame.

"Bucky?" Steve said in shock.

"I can explain..." Bucky began as he removed himself from the bed, grabbing a blanket to cover himself with.

You sat up, clutching the sheet to your chest, eyes wide as you stared at Steve. "Steve..."

"Don't," he snapped. "Don't you dare try to talk your way out of this, (Y/N)."

"It wasn't her fault--" Bucky tried.

"Save it. I know you were pissed at me for dating her after you broke up, so maybe I deserved the revenge," Steve said angrily. He turned his gaze back to you, hurt filling his beautiful blue eyes. "But you? I've done nothing but love you. I treated you the way you deserved to be treated...I did everything right."

"Steve, I'm so sorry," you whispered.

"That doesn't change anything." He turned to walk away and you jumped up to follow him, grabbing your robe on your way out.

"Steve, wait--"

"What do you think you could possibly say to fix this, (Y/N)?" he yelled.

You took a step back in shock. Steve never yelled. Ever. "I don't...I don't know..."

"Exactly." Tears pressed against the backs of his eyes and his voice was shaky. "It's over, (Y/N). I'm done."

You hadn't expected him to say anything differently, but it still hurt to hear it. You looked down at your left hand and saw the diamond ring he'd given you. You didn't cry as you slid it off your finger and handed it to him...nor did you cry as you watched him walk out the door and out of your life.

A few moments later, Bucky appeared behind you fully dressed. "(Y/N)..." he began.

You held up your hand to silence him. "Don't--just don't." You stared at the door your fiancé--ex-finacé--had just walked through. "I can't believe I ever thought I was a good person," you whispered.

"You are a good person," Bucky countered, taking a step towards you.

"Please just leave."

"(Y/N)..."

"Just go. I can't even bear to look at you right now."

Bucky knew better than to argue. He loved you more than anything, but he knew he'd made a mistake. He never intended to sleep with you...it just happened.

He shrugged his jacket on and walked out the door, leaving you on the other side of it. Your life had been shattered into pieces because of a choice you'd made...you and Bucky.

**********

"You did WHAT?!" Natasha yelled.

You'd called her a few minutes after Bucky had left to tell her what happened. "I slept with Bucky," you repeated.

"What in God's name were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," you whispered.

"Jesus, (Y/N/N)," she sighed. "Are you okay?"

"No."

"What are you going to do?"

"I have no idea. I managed to blow up my life in a single afternoon."

"It's not that bad, okay? We'll figure it out. Just...don't tell Steve."

"Too late."

"What?"

"He walked in on us."

"WHAT?"

You made the sound of an explosion, complete with hand movements she couldn't see.

"Okay, don't do anything crazy. I'll be home in a couple hours."

"Nat, don't cut your vacation short because of me."

"It's one day, (Y/N). Besides, you need me."

You wanted to deny it, but you really did need her. "Thanks," you whispered.

"You're welcome. I'll see you in a few hours."

**********

Two weeks had gone by since you'd slept with Bucky and broken up with Steve. Natasha had stayed with you for the first week...you were much too upset to be left alone.

You spent the second week by yourself...you needed the time alone to figure things out. Natasha had been helpful, but she'd also been upset with you for ruining things with Steve over Bucky. She'd always hated that he broke your heart.

As much as you loved Natasha, you knew you needed advice from someone else. You wanted to believe everything Bucky had told you, but you were too jaded to believe him without proof.

Steve was Bucky's best friend before the two of you had started dating and they really hadn't talked since. Bucky became closer to Sam Wilson over time and you knew they were best friends now. You decided Sam was the person you needed to talk to, so you called him up and asked him to meet you for lunch.

Sam hadn't been surprised when you'd called him...Bucky had told him everything that had happened. What did surprise him was that you wanted to meet up to talk.

He contemplated calling Bucky to tell him, but he decided it would probably be better to talk to you first. So he got himself together and went out to meet you for lunch.

You were already seated at a table in the back of the restaurant when Sam walked in. You waved him over and he took a seat across from you.

"Hey, (Y/N). How are you?" Sam asked as he sat down.

"Honestly, Sam, I've been better."

He was a little surprised by your candidness, and he wasn't sure if he should play dumb or admit Bucky had talked to him already. He opted for something in the middle of the two, "Bucky mentioned he went to see you a couple weeks ago."

"Did he say anything else?" you asked uncomfortably.

Sam knew better than to try and verbally lie to you, so he simply shook his head.

"He may have left some things out," you said softly. "Steve and I broke up."

Sam's eyes widened. He did his best to act surprised as he asked, "Why? What happened?"

"Bucky happened," you said honestly.

"What do you mean?"

You closed your eyes for a second...not quite ready to admit you'd done something terrible. "He shows up back in my life after two years and says a bunch of shit that I don't know what to do with. Who does he think he is? I was happy, Sam. I was getting married in a couple weeks!"

Sam sighed. "I know, (Y/N)...and I've known you for a long time, so I'm just going to say this: you were content with Steve. He never rocked the boat, never challenged you or upset you, never did anything to hurt you--but he also never made you laugh so hard you couldn't breathe, he never made you smile so wide your face hurt, and I know for a fact he never loved you the way Bucky does."

You stared at your friend in silence. You knew Bucky had loved you two years before and he'd professed his love to you mere weeks ago...what you'd spent two years denying to everyone including yourself, was how you felt about Bucky. You'd never loved anyone the way you loved him and as much as you cared for Steve, it never came close to how you felt about Bucky.

"It's okay to admit you still love him," Sam said gently.

"Is he different, Sam? I mean really, truly different? Because I can't--" you took a shaky breath. "I can't go through that again."

Sam shook his head. "He's not the same man he was before. You know how I felt about him when we first met...we didn't become friends just to fill some kind of void in our lives. I love the guy like a brother, but I would never lie to you (Y/N). You're family too."

You swallowed thickly. "Natasha says I should move on."

Sam waved his hand dismissively. "Natasha doesn't know Bucky like I do. She knew him before...she has no idea who he is now."

"I know," you whispered. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."

Sam cocked his head to the side. "You wanted to know if Bucky had really changed."

You nodded.

"Because you still love him."

"I never stopped," you admitted.

Sam offered you a gentle smile. "You should tell him that."

Your eyes were teary as you looked up at your friend. "I know."

**********

Two days later, you were standing on the front steps of Bucky's apartment. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and you were quite certain you were moments away from throwing up. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt this anxious.

Your decision to come here had been spur of the moment and you suddenly regretted that decision. You'd hit the buzzer for Bucky's apartment, but no one responded. Like an idiot, you hadn't even bothered to check if he was home before coming all the way over there.

You turned around to leave, feeling like a fool, when you heard the door open behind you and a voice call your name. When you turned back around, Bucky was standing in the threshold, looking at you in surprise.

"Oh, I umm--I thought you weren't home."

He gestured to the call box. "The damn speaker is broken again, so you couldn't hear my response. I woulda buzzed you up, but that's also not working right..."

"Oh."

"Yeah," he mumbled. "So...what brings you by?"

You were one hundred percent certain he could hear your heart beating even without his super hearing and your breathing had become obviously shallow. You felt like an absolute moron standing on his front stoop, staring at him in silence. He was beautiful and it always took your breath away...even now.

"I thought we should talk," you blurted.

Bucky looked slightly surprised, but he nodded in agreement. "Why don't you come inside?" He turned to go back through the door.

When you made no move to follow him, he stopped and said, "Or we can just stand out here..."

You shook your head, partially in response to his statement and partially to clear your head. You didn't say anything, but you took a step towards him, so he turned to guide you up to his apartment.

"Sorry about all the stairs. I like being up higher."

"It's fine."

Once inside his apartment, he gestured for you to have a seat before heading into the kitchen. "Can I get you anything? Maybe something to drink?"

You'd never felt so awkward in your entire life and you knew you weren't going to be able to say anything you wanted to like this. "Do you have whiskey?"

Bucky chuckled lightly. "Always. On the rocks?"

"Is there any other way?"

He laughed. "Touché."

He brought you the drink and sat down on the couch across from you with his own. "Please sit, (Y/N)."

You didn't want to be any weirder than you already were, so you took a seat on the chair beside you. You took a long drink from your glass, almost draining it.

"Should I have made it a double?" he teased lightly.

You looked down at your glass in embarrassment. "Sorry, I'm just--nervous, I guess."

"No need to apologize," he said gently. "And no need to be nervous."

You laughed breathily. "I think I'll have to disagree on that one." You downed the rest of your drink and sat the glass on the table in front of you.

"Would you like another one?"

"No--I uhh, I think one will be enough."

He nodded. "So...what did you wanna talk about?"

The speed with which you'd ingested the whiskey ensured you felt it almost immediately. You took a deep breath, allowing the liquor to calm your nerves. "I wanted to talk about what happened."

"When?"

Your eyes snapped up to his. "Seriously?"

"Ahh...so this is about the other day."

"Yeah, Bucky, it's about the other day. Ya know, when I cheated on my fiancé with you and broke his heart? That day."

"His heart? Not yours?"

You didn't appreciate the tone in his voice, so you snapped, "No, you managed to do that all on your own."

He sighed and sat his drink down. "That was two years ago, (Y/N)."

"Doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Hurting you was never what I wanted. But we needed to be apart and the only way that was going to happen was if I hurt you. You just wouldn't leave," he finished softly.

"Because I loved you, Bucky! Is that really so terrible?"

"No, of course not. But I never would have gotten the help I needed if you hadn't left me...if I didn't have a reason to get better."

"I wasn't reason enough?"

"You were my reason and that was the problem. I needed to do it for myself and I couldn't do that if you were there."

You were quiet for a moment. "Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever did, James. I didn't think my heart would ever heal."

"How'd you think I felt when you got together with my best friend?"

You winced. "It just sort of...happened."

He sighed. "I wanted you to be happy and if Steve was the one who made you happy, then I had to accept that. But that's why I left, (Y/N). I couldn't stand to be in the same city as you two anymore. The possibility of running into you was too painful to risk."

"I'm really sorry, Buck. I didn't do it to hurt you."

He looked up at you with soft eyes. "I know that. It's not in your nature, nor is it in Steve's. You can't help who you fall in love with."

"I missed you...so much, and Steve--Steve understood how that felt. Better than anyone."

"Did you love him?"

"Yes."

"Were you really planning on spending the rest of your life with him?"

"Yes."

"If he hadn't caught us...would you still be marrying him?"

"I...I--I couldn't. I can't. It wouldn't be fair to him. Not when I feel--what I feel."

"And what do you feel?" Bucky asked softly.

"Bucky..."

"Please."

You sighed heavily. "When I first got together with Steve, I still loved you more than anything. Over time, I suppressed that love just enough that I could open myself up to loving someone else. After a while...it got easier and easier to pretend I felt nothing at all for you. And then you barged back into my life."

Bucky didn't say a word, too scared to stop the flow of emotions coming from you.

"You barged in and you brought all of those emotions back to the surface. You made me remember everything I'd ever felt for you--and I wanted to hate you for it. I wanted to hate you so badly, but I couldn't. I can't find it in me to hate the person I love the most. I never fell out of love with you, Bucky, I just hid it really well."

He wanted to speak, to say something to acknowledge what you just said, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he got up and came to stand directly in front of you, before kneeling down and grabbing your hands in his. "I think this is the moment where I'm supposed to say something deep and profound, but all I can think to say is, 'I love you too'."

Tears filled your eyes. "That's more than enough," you whispered.

He pulled himself up slightly so he could reach your face. He gently pulled you down towards him, kissing you with a loving intensity that set your soul aflame.

Loving Bucky Barnes just felt right, as if it was all you were ever meant to do. He was the love your life and being here with him in this moment reminded you of how good it felt to be in the arms of someone you loved with every part of you.

When you'd left Bucky two years ago, you'd left a piece of your soul with him, a piece you'd worried you wouldn't be able to live without. You'd learned how to, but it wasn't the same--you weren't the same.

For the first time in years, you felt whole--complete. If life was a giant puzzle, Bucky was your missing piece. And in the darkness of his bedroom, wrapped in his arms, you made a promise to love him forever--a promise he returned in kind.

[ghoulie-67-baby]

One too many mistakes- Criminal minds.

Summary: You’re a member of the BAU and have been captured by the unsub. You know they’ll save you but you have to be patient.

Prompts: You escape captivity and start running, only to run into your saviour.

Warnings: Blood, mentions of murder, kidnapping, language, crying, vomiting.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader.

Word count: 1,068.

"You're sick." I spat up at the unsub, my hands aching from being tied up. "Why do you do this?" I watched as his chapped lips curled into a sickening grin, revealing rotted teeth and the stench of blood on his breath.

"Maybe I am sick, maybe I'm the normal one." He shrugged, attacking a tube to the cannula in my arm. "Either way I enjoy it." My eyes widened at the horrifying chuckle that filled the room. Silence overcame us as he fiddled with his equipment. I knew what would happen soon enough. He would collect as much of my blood as he wanted, drink it, and repeat for a few days. When he wanted fresh blood he would dump my body just like with all the other women. Two nights had already passed and I knew my time was limited.

"Rest now sweet pet, ill be back soon." My body slid down the wall as I feigned exhaustion.

A few hours had passed since he left and I had been working hard to escape the ropes. I just about managed to fray the one around my ankles using a nail sticking through the floorboard. My hands shook in my lap, the locks on the door echoing through the room. With my head hanging, I faked sleep, holding back a grin when he left the door wide open.

'That's your first mistake asshole.' The thought made me shiver with anticipation but I waited patiently, knowing timing was imperative. Once he turned back around, I readied myself. His second mistake.

Scrambling to my feet, I yanked my arms from the cannulas and sprinted for the door, not giving him the chance to react.

Pains seared through my limbs as they screamed in protest. The ground was uneven and the lack of light from the dense foliage proved it more difficult to guide myself. Heavy boot falls sounded from behind me as he began the chase. Using tree trunks and bushes as cover, I hid myself and tried to figure out my direction.

"You bitch!" I could tell he was stalking closer, his voice getting louder. Taking an unsteady breath, I stumbled through the threes, trying to ignore the dizziness clouding my head. "You can't run forever!" He was right, especially with the state I was in, but I'd give it a damn good go if it meant a better chance of surviving.

"I can hear you," he sang into the darkness, his sickening grin flashing through my head. "I can smell you, almost taste you. All that fresh blood going to waste." My heart raced in my chest, cementing my fear that he could actually hear it.

Tears clouded my vision as I staggered through branches and rotting leaves. The tree roots seemed to latch onto my feet as I ran, making me trip and struggle for balance. With my captor's voice converging on me and my senses overtaken by panic and pain I didn't notice the figures ahead of me.

The howl of a dog broke me from my panicked stupor and I fell back, eyes wide and blurry as the animal barked at me.

"Y/N?" A figure called my name and I scrubbed my eyes with the heels of my bound palms. They focused a little better, revealing the angry face of Hotch and the concern and relief of my team. My body flooded with relief as my knees shook, teeth chattering in the autumn air. "Hey, you're okay. Y/N walk to me."

I followed the voice, tears streaming down my face as I tried to stay on my feet. My face came into contact with a bulletproof vest but from the cologne, I could tell it was Hotch. Seconds passed before he pulled away from me, hands holding my elbows as his eyes inspected me for injuries. My bound wrists pressed against his chest as his eyes rested on the bleeding wounds on my arms.

"Tell me sweet pet," the yelling made my head snap up as Hotch untied the rope from my sore wrists. "How close am I? Close enough to taste you yet?" A shiver passed up my spine as I gripped my boss's sleeves, tears still falling as the team moved to shield me.

"He won't touch you again, we won't let him." I faced the direction of the voice, hands clutching Aaron's behind my back as the grimy man came into view.

"Tut tut sweet pet, thought we were exclusive?" Hotch's hands flinched slightly as I shook. Third mistake.

"You can't go anywhere now, man, put down the weapon." Morgan's voice was hard and tense as agents surrounded the unsub. "Put it down!". His eyes stayed locked on mine as he put his shotgun down, a sick smile on his face, and knelt amongst the autumn leaves.

The agents closed in quickly, Morgan snapped cuffs on him before hauling him to his feet. I motioned for him to bring him over.

"Why?" My voice shook no matter how hard I tried to keep it steady. "Why did you really do it?"

"I already told you pet," he leant closer, ignoring Morgan's pull. "Because I enjoy it." With a wave of demented laughter, he was dragged off, laughter mixing with Morgan's commands.

what little colour was in my face drained as I doubled over, hurling up the bile in my empty stomach.

"I've got you. JJ, alert the medics." My hair was gathered back as I heaved what little I could, retches shaking my body.

"M'sorry didn't mean to do that." I chuckled weakly, not even trying to make it sound real as I dragged myself upright. Aaron shook his head, wrapping his jacket around me before guiding me out of the forest, the flash of the ambulance calling my name.

"Don't apologise. I'm just sorry we weren't here sooner. He didn't do anything else did he?" He trailed off, not wanting to imagine what else that monster could do.

"No, he didn't do anything else, just the blood. I'll never look at a doctor the same way ever again." I sighed, sitting on the ambulance step, moving so he could sit with me. "You were here in time, that's all that matters."

Resting my heavy head on his shoulder, exhaustion stopped me from caring that he was my boss, let alone closed off. Instead, I chose to revel in his warmth.

[astrobiscuits]

🎄🎵Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas🎵🎄

Holiday (365443) persona chart observations

🎅 Individuals with Ascendant at 1° or 3° get really excited in advance at the thought of Christmas coming. They tend to approach the holidays with the same innocent joy they had as kids even in adulthood

🎅 Stellium in 2nd house = tasty Christmas dishes and gifts are their only priority lmao

🎅 Neptune trine Venus tend to get lost in the beauty and bling of Christmas decorations

🎅 The sign and house where Jupiter is located tells you what type of gifts you might usually get on Christmas (it's also great to use as a gift guide!!):

🎁 Jupiter 1st house/Aries: gym equipment; sports-related merch; tickets to an event, which you're really passionate about; hats/head accessories; could also be something related to the natal Ascendant (check the description for your natal Rising sign for more info)

🎁 Jupiter in 2nd house/Taurus: lots of chocolate and sweets; clothes; art pieces; scented candles; perfume; fine china; kitchen utensils; cookbooks; (renewed) subscription to a movie streaming service

🎁 Jupiter in 3rd house/Gemini: a (new) car; books; musical instruments; handpan (if Jupiter is in Pisces or it positively aspects Neptune); your most memorable gift might come from a sibling or a relative (cousin, uncle, aunt)

🎁 Jupiter in 4th house/Cancer: plushies; heated blanket; board games; photo albums; your most memorable gift might come from your parents or it might be something passed on from generation to generation

🎁 Jupiter in 5th house/Leo: concert tickets; a trip to the tattoo parlor; gold jewelry; could also be something related to the natal Sun

🎁 Jupiter in 6th house/Virgo: Fitbit/smartwatch; aesthetic stationery (notebooks, planners, writing instruments); reusable water bottle; humidifier; pets

🎁 Jupiter in 7th house/Libra: make-up; beauty gadgets; a romantic partner/fiancé (no, but fr, you might get a love confession during the holidays); your most memorbale gift likely might come from your partner (if you have one)

🎁 Jupiter in 8th house/Scorpio: money/gift cards; sexy time toys; stockings; could be something the individual is obsessed with

🎁 Jupiter in 9th house/Sagittarius: trips to exotic destinations; henna hair dye; compression socks

🎁 Jupiter in 10th house/Capricorn: vintage decor; office chair; office purse (or just one that screams "high status"); sterling silver jewelry; high quality alcohol drinks

🎁 Jupiter in 11th house/Aquarius: electronic devices (smartphone, laptop, tablet, etc.); video games; anything related to supernatural beings (aliens, mermaids, fairies etc.); telescope; anything you've wished for/been manifesting

🎁 Jupiter in 12th house/Pisces: anything sleep related - pajamas, bed sheets, pillow sheets (or a new pillow), silk sleepmask; crystals; manifestation journal; tarot decks; art supplies

🎅 Christmas traditions based on the number of planets in angular/succedent/cadent houses:

❄️ High number of planets in angular houses (1, 4, 7, 10) = starting new family traditions

❄️ High number of planets in succedent houses (2, 5, 8, 11) = carrying out family traditions

❄️ High number of planets in cadent houses (3, 6, 9, 12) = tweaking/improving current family traditions or letting them go if they don't resonate anymore

🎅 Sun square/opposite Saturn & Ascendant conjunct/square/opposite Saturn = Grinch who doesn't like Christmas, but doesn't do anything to "destroy" it; might show a lot of sarcasm during the holidays; they might not celebrate Christmas due to reasons related to their position of Saturn

🎅 Sun square/opposite Mars = Grinch who doesn't like Christmas, but actively tries to "destroy" the holiday spirit for the people around them by picking up fights with loved ones

🎅 If you want to "hire" a Santa to show up with gifts for your kids on Christmas (aka choose one of your friends to fulfill this role), the best Santa would have atleast 3 of the following:

Sun conjunct/sextile/trine Jupiter

Venus conjunct/sextile/trine Jupiter

Sun/Moon in 5th house

Jupiter in 2nd house/5th house

Jupiter conjuncting MC

Sagittarius Rising or Jupiter as dom planet

Ruler of 2nd house (benefic planet) in 5th house and vice versa

Asteroid Abundantia (151) conjuncting Venus/Jupiter

❆❆❆ ~ 𝕸𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝕮𝖍𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖒𝖆𝖘, 𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞𝖔𝖓𝖊 ~ ❆❆❆