#and THIS WOMAN. someone who i know would fucking lay down her life if it were the best way to keep me safe

[mars-ipan]

y’know i think the most annoying thing about trying to discuss reproductive rights with cis people is the complete and utter refusal to include trans people in the discussion. like they will only ever say “women” and if you dare to point it out it’s “well this is all being done to control women” or “‘people with vaginas’/‘people assigned female at birth’ is way too wordy” it drives me fucking crazy

like first off do you seriously think that the people who seek to remove bodily autonomy from women have nothing against trans people. do you think they hold zero ill will towards us. also do you think they view trans afabs as anything other than women.

secondly. NOBODY IS ASKING YOU TO USE BIG WORDY PHRASES LITERALLY JUST SAY “PEOPLE” INSTEAD OF “WOMEN.” WE LITERALLY JUST DON’T WANT TO BE EXCLUDED FROM THIS BECAUSE WE ARE ALSO BEING HURT WE JUST WANT SOME GODDAMN SOLIDARITY IN THIS BITCH. LIKE ACTUALLY JUST FUCKING SAY “PEOPLE” IT SAVES EVERYONE FROM WEIRD LOOPHOLES AND ALSO ENFORCES THAT WOMEN ARE PEOPLE FOR FUCK’S SAKEEEEE

[libraford]

Now that I work with a bunch of homophobes, I feel the weight of being a 'one of us.'

"Why are women so --- oh but not you, you're different."

"Why are gays so--' but you're not like them, you're more like us."

Krusty The Bird Killer rants for five minutes about black women being 'sluts that all have eight kids with different fathers because they'll lay with anything that moves,' and then talk sweet to our secretary, a black woman in her 40s who doesnt seem to count as a black woman when he's ranting.

I've been trying to put words to this behavior for awhile now. And I think it just comes down to 'us vs them.'

I showed up to work in a cowboy hat and work boots, wasnt afraid of the men's room, and lifted a 50 pound trash bag full of dog shit on my first day. I'm not like other women to them. I dont count. I'm one of us.

I talk about my girlfriend in a quiet way: I dont declare queer supremacy and I dont make my whole life about being queer and oppressed. I'm not like other lesbians. I dont count. I'm one of us.

They dont know me. They dont know my girly interests and they dont know about my political art pieces and they dont know about the fake eyelashes that I wore during pride. They certainly dont know I'm trans.

I passed their test. I'm 'one of the dudes.'

I'm really not, though.

If they saw me outside of work, I would be a Them. But they got to know me first. I'm in their list of "thems that are us." And every them that they meet can be an us. But they dont go out of their way to meet many thems.

I'm a Gay. I'm not the Gays. I'm (to them) a woman. I'm not Women. The secretary is black. But shes not The Blacks (pardon the phrasing, it hurt me to even type it that way.)

Every person is the stereotype of their group until someone gets to know them. But that doesn't disprove the stereotype- it just means that the person doesnt count as part of that group anymore. They're with us now.

Respectability politics really dont get us anywhere. If you're out to disprove the stereotype out of a sense that you'll change their minds, I'm telling you that energy is better spent living authentically if you are safe to do so.

Your influence on them doesnt change their perception of the box they put you in. They just put you in a smaller box. Fuck their opinions.

[milkteahood]

texas heat

Thomas Hewitt x fem!reader

Warning: smut! minors dni!!!

Summary: basically a smut with a plot

Sweat broke on your forehead as you wiped it still half asleep. It was terribly hot to even rest. As your eyes opened and started to adjust to the darkness around you, thoughts about the whole situation were still fresh in your mind. How long has it been? You thought to yourself. A few months maybe? 4? 5?

You stopped counting the days after the first few weeks. What for anyway? It wasn’t like you were ever leaving.

***

“Come on boys! We are completely lost!” your friend spoke, gesturing with her hands.

“It’s fine! It’s all good. A little detour” the driver laughed without a care in the world.

“That’s right Sam! Stop being so difficult. Look, Y/N isn’t saying anything” the other guy talked from the passenger’s seat.

At the mention of your name, you looked up from your book, and then quickly got back to it. You weren’t actually reading, but they weren’t paying attention to that. If they did, they would’ve seen you didn’t turn any page in the last 5 minutes. Pretending was just a good excuse to be out of this circus of conversation.

You didn’t consider any of them your friends. And you were sure they didn’t think of you as that either. They were Sam’s friends. And Sam was your friend out of convenience, just as you were to her. You wanted to travel, and she didn’t want to be the only girl on the trip.

“Come on Y/N!” Sam started “whose side are you on?”

“Maybe we should stop and ask for directions” you finally raised a point.

“Yeah? And where the fuck would we stop for that?” the driver asked “there is nothing around here!”

A sigh escaped your lips and you finally put the book down, looking out the window. Then, suddenly, you pressed your finger on the window, gesturing in the distance “there, it looks like a house”.

Little did any of you know this was the beginning of a whole new chapter in your life.

***

Rubbing your eyes, you looked at the little clock on your nightstand. 11:30 pm it said. It wasn’t that late, yet you couldn’t remember when you fell asleep. Realistically, the only one still awake was Thomas. The thought of that made you freeze in place. Oh yes, you thought to yourself again the summer isn’t the only reason I can’t sleep.

Another sigh left your lips. You didn’t think you would end up in this situation. Spared by a bunch of cannibals for the sole reason you smacked the driver when he started insulting Thomas.

***

“Hello?” the driver’s friend… Jason? Jack? Jeremy? J something. You couldn’t remember. Your name memory was never your strongest suit.

“Hello?” J began knocking again. And a second time. Just before knocking for a 3rd time, a woman opened the door.

“Yes? Who are you?” she spoke.

“Oh hello ma’am!” Sam approached “we are completely lost. We were wondering if you could give us any directions”

Luda Mae looked all of you up and down before speaking “come inside. You will die of the heat before you get any directions”

The boys looked at each other and you looked at Sam. But ultimately decided to follow the lady inside.

***

The memories were still fresh and you were sure they would be for the rest of your life. As you lay on your back, looking around the room, you felt your heart skip a beat as another thought made itself apparent. Thomas. Or better said. Your crush on Thomas. In the past month or so, you tried your best to get close to him. You offered to help with everything and anything he needed. Yet, he did his best to avoid you. You weren’t dumb, you knew exactly why. He was absolutely terrified at the idea you’re just fucking around. Lying. Being nice to him so he wouldn’t kill you.

“For fucks sake Thomas. I was nice to you even before I knew you butchered people for a living” you whispered yelled alone, in your room.

***

“So kids, how did you end up here?” Luda Mae asked, trying to see if you would make a good addition to the Hewitt meat supply. Were you going somewhere? Was someone important waiting for you? What was the chance of people coming to look for you? Those were important questions that needed answers. They couldn’t risk killing someone that could potentially lead the police to them.

As the conversation was unfolding, the driver and J became more and more impatient to leave, and your head cocked when hearing some footsteps. Before you realized it, this massive man was sitting in the doorway, breathing heavily, not saying a word.

“Oh Tommy! Look! We have guests” Luda Mae said, looking at her son. Thomas was tall, a huge man, his apron covered in blood.

“Oh fuck! What the fuck is that? He looks like—” the driver said but didn’t get to finish whatever insults he was going to spew because you smacked him.

“Just shut up. For once. Not everything revolves around you and your daddy’s money. You can’t just speak this way to people” you said, while he looked you completely shocked. No one has ever dared speak to him that way. Let alone slap him.

And that was the moment Luda Mae decided you would be the only one left alive.

***

The floor was cooler than the bed. You stood up and looked at yourself in the mirror. It was so dark you could barely see, only managing to make out your silhouette. You stood there for a while, thinking of what you should do.

You liked Thomas from the moment you saw him. You tried to befriend him but all he did was ignore you. On the occasions he actually had to interact with you, he looked so tense, like he was on the verge of exploding. You tried to give him space, but it wasn’t really helping. And now you were pacing around your room, unable to sleep because all you wanted was Thomas. The man who killed your “friends”.

What the fuck is wrong with me… he’s a murderer, his whole family is crazy.

Yes and so are you. I mean, you’re not running. You think he’s hot. This man could dismember you in a heartbeat and you think he is attractive. Talk about fucked up.

You frowned at your own thoughts. Thomas wasn’t a monster. He did what he had to. Yet what was your excuse? Falling for him?

Your heart started racing. Yes, you were falling for him.

After what seemed like an eternity, you went out of your room, down the stairs and into the living room. You stopped in front of the basement stairs and listened. Thomas was definitely still down there and it was now or never.

In the basement Thomas was still butchering some meat, not hearing you walk in over the sound of his cleaver. He didn’t like you coming there, he always thought you would judge him, mock him even.

“Thomas” you spoke, your voice making him stop with the cleaver still in the air. He lowered it and turned to you, not saying anything.

“It’s late Thomas. Maybe you should call it a day” you spoke softly, almost afraid to startle him.

You didn’t get a response. Then, he just turned around and continued what he was doing.

This made you frown and it hurt a little. Maybe he was not liking you as much as you liked him. Maybe he didn’t like you at all. However this couldn’t be further from the truth. He did like you. A lot. Which is why he was so scared to be around you.

You bit your lip, a little too hard, and decided to approach him. The second your hand touched his arm, Thomas completely froze. His body was incredibly tense and all he managed to do was look at you.

“Did I do something to upset you?” you tilted your head “you always seem to ignore me. I’m sorry if I upset you at all”.

Thomas’s wide widened. You were apologizing to him? What for? You thought he was mad at you? But how could he? He grunted back at you. In the beginning it was very difficult to understand him, but now you could make up the words he was saying. He said no.

“Well then what is it?” you pressed him, gently rubbing his arm. His eyes looked like they could come out of his head, immediately shifting his gaze away from you, almost shaking.

“Thomas, Tommy, oh no” you reached for his other hand which was still tight around the cleaver. Gesturing for him to let it go, you managed to turn him so he’d face you. “You’re ok. Everything is ok” you said, looking at him. “I didn’t mean to make you feel awkward. I’m sorry. I will go upstairs” you gave him a bit of a sad smile and turned to walk away. Yet, you didn’t get to take two steps before he stopped you. As you turned to him, he gave you another grunt. Stay. This one meant stay.

Both of you were blushing. Your brave girl facade paled the moment you felt his hand around your arm. Compared to him, you were incredibly tiny and for that, he treated you as if you were made of glass. Because to him, you were.

You stepped in front of him, both of you looking at each other. You learned to be gentle with him, maybe even more gentle than he was with you. Because unlike you, he never had people not be terrified of him.

Smiling, you cupped his face in your hands, which caught him off guard, but he didn’t stop you. For whatever reason, you were here, you didn’t try to run away, and you were kind to him. Before he knew it, he was leaning into your touch.

“Tommy?”

He opened his eyes, waiting for you to continue.

“I really like you, Thomas”

His now open eyes were widened, staring at you, almost looking through you, waiting to see any shred of dishonesty. But there was none. You were genuine. He then couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with you. How could you like him? No. He didn’t care. You liked him. And he was going to take it.

He didn’t realize some time passed without giving you an answer, which caused you to mumble another apology. He, however, didn’t let you finish. You soon found yourself in a hug. A very tight hug. Which you happily reciprocated.

After pulling away, you both looked at each other and without much of a second thought, you pulled the other into a kiss. It was reckless and full of built up frustrations on both parts. You were the first to pull away.

“Thomas.. it’s difficult to kiss you with that mask on”

He didn’t say anything and looked away. He didn’t want to show you. There was finally something he had and showing you his face might ruin it. He grunted a no.

“Please..” you pleaded while cupping his face again.

He damned himself for being so weak around you. You looked sad and a little disappointed. He let out a huge sigh and slowly took off his mask, letting it fall on the floor and completely avoiding your gaze. Whatever disgusted face you made, he didn’t want to see. Only if he looked to see it was not disgust but love.

“Fuck me you’re handsome” was all you said before pulling him in and kissing him again. He looked like a deer in headlights, but quickly melted into your kiss, picking you up and placing you on his workbench.

Your legs were wrapped around him, your hands pulling at his hair while he was tightly holding you by your waist. You felt his erection press against you, so you pushed yourself closer to him, which caused Thomas to grunt and moan into the kiss.

Thomas was the one to pull away this time, spending some time admiring you. Slowly, you started to unbutton his shirt “you can help me with mine if you want” you said a little flustered.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Once you felt his excitement, you knew Thomas was coming out of his shell. Soon enough yours and his shirts were thrown on the floor, and you were making out on the cold and hard workbench. You didn’t care, you also didn’t care that his grips wound leave bruises. You just wanted him. He cupped your breast, gently squeezing, earning himself a moan from you and the confirmation that he is doing it right.

“Please Tommy” you whined between kisses, tugging at his belt.

He wanted to so bad. But what if he hurt you? He had no what what he was doing. But how could he resist you? His whole body was shaking, you were begging him to have sex with you. Him. He pulled away from the kiss and quickly undid his belt and pants, making himself moan as he pulled his cock out. Your heart skipped a beat seeing Thomas naked in front of you. You look off your underwear and pull him into another kiss.

You didn’t think much before starting to palm his length, causing him to moan into your mouth. Thomas started thrusting as you were stroking him. He could cum just like that, but you wanted more. And he did too.

As your back rested on the cold table, Thomas climbed on top of you, neither daring to break the kiss. You couldn’t even wrap your legs around him, a detail he found really cute. He pulled away from the kiss only to look at your expression again. Was this really ok? Is this really what you wanted? You looked so beautiful and so turned on. Rubbing yourself against his erection was all the confirmation he needed before slowly starting to push his cock into you.

Feeling him inside you completely knocked the air out of you, immediately kissing him again, moaning into his mouth. Your figure, your voice, your shaking body were making Thomas go feral. His grunts on the other hand made your whole stomach feel hot. Thomas was thrusting into you, firmly holding your waist with one hand and supporting himself up with the other. Your arms were wrapped around his back, face buried into his neck, trying to muffle your moans.

He was hitting all the right spots, causing your mind to go blank and your nails to dig into his skin. Once his voice became shakier, you knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Oh fuck…” you moaned and he responded by thrusting even harder. It was almost as if your every moan was making Thomas go more feral.

His rhythm was becoming more erratic, signaling that he was getting closer.

“It ok Tommy” you said between moans “I want you. Fill me up, please Tommy”.

Saying that was enough to push him over the edge. After a few more thrusts he came with a low, guttural moan, completely intoxicated by you.

You were both panting and looking at each other afterward. He couldn’t believe what just happened. Were you a dream? No. You were there, smiling at him. Did that mean you were his now? Yes. Most definitely.

He picked you up off of the table, squeezing you close to him. He was still panting and so were you, yet, both happy and finally content.

[dipperscavern]

can I be cheeky and ask for riding jon’s face 🫣🫣🫣

yes… oh yes you absolutely can….. i fell asleep last night to the thought of jon snow canonically being a munch (funny enough) — we’re on the same wavelength anon ! (written w shy!reader in mind)

you’ve heard the talk, heard the different ladies from different statures talk about “the act”, and it’s always a different answer. some say it’s mediocre… others, that it’s their favorite way to feel good, and some, say it’s terrible. you’ve heard stories of men never caring about the woman’s pleasure, and how their only purpose was to give them children. the thought made you shudder.

you, yourself, have never had time. time to freely choose who you trust enough to share that sacred experience with (or even touch yourself). the men at castle black are sworn to celibacy, and even if they would abandon their oath for a night with you, you wouldn’t let them. most of the men at the wall are untrustworthy, and you want more than just a quick fuck. even if these thoughts plague you, you’re too busy with your duties to worry about it. a thing you’ve since long accepted.

until jon snow.

you had been there for jon since his arrival at castle black. never batting an eye at his surname, always trying to make his life a little bit easier. there was also the stolen glances, the soft touches you both passed off as “accidental”, the longing for each other. you both remained as merely “close friends”, until things boiled over and you found solace in each others lips. it didn’t go farther than that, the tentative kiss being soft & exploring, and that was okay with you. you didn’t expect more. until you got more.

sometimes, you hate jon for being so easy to talk to. your shy nature has slowly melted away in his presence, and you find yourself unable to be embarrassed about the questions you ask or answer. your late night talks are what keeps jon sane. he wants to know everything about you, and you both would talk till morning if you could (you have before). the topic often shifts, landing on anything and everything on the planet. even “the act”.

imagine jon’s surprise, when the most beautiful & endearing woman he’s ever met drops her gaze to the floor and bashfully tells him she’s never cum before.

jon short circuits. he asks if you want to. he asks if he can make you. and you say yes.

jon snow is a giver. tasting a woman is a pleasure in itself, and he’d tell you as much if you asked. his mind ran a million miles an hour, thinking about all the ways he could make you feel good. it doesn’t take long before the desire to taste you takes a hold of him, and so he does.

“You’re hovering.”

he’s not wrong. you are. you thought you had heard it all, but the act of sitting on someone’s face has clearly alluded your ears. you’re unsure. you don’t want to hurt him.. suffocating the first man you lay with would have you begging the gods to open the ground and swallow you whole. and it’s not just any man, it’s jon.

the soft glide of jon’s fingers across your thigh bring you out of your head. his hands are cold. they feel nice in contrast to your own skin, nerves lit on fire.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t.”

“Jon-”

“Do you trust me?”

he’s steadfast in his reassurance. his thumb has been rubbing circles in your hip while you both have been talking. does he do it all on purpose, or is he just this naturally desirable?

“You know I do, but-“

“Good. Sit.”

you still hesitate, and that’s when jon takes matters into his own hands. his hands stop their tracing, and instead grip your thighs, bringing you down himself.

whatever expectations you had are exceeded tenfold. jon eats you out like a man starved. your head spins with the way you can feel his tongue, exploring you and swiping over your clit. it has white hot pleasure shooting up your spine, and your thighs quiver ever so slightly, but jon’s firm grip keeps you in place. he’s confident in his movements, precise and sure in a way that makes you see stars.

jon thinks he’s found the place where he would be content to meet his demise. you taste so good, and the pretty sounds you’re making have blood rushing straight to his cock. jon has always loved the sound of his name on your lips — whether it be small acknowledgments in passing by, or just mentions in mere conversation. but he’s found he much prefers hearing you moan it.

you’re almost embarrassed how quickly he has warmth building up in your belly, pressure building as he gives you the most pleasure you’ve ever had. he’s giving and giving and giving, and you find yourself selfishly taking all of it. he doesn’t slow down, keeping a steady rhythm that makes the cord in your stomach wind impossibly tighter.

“Jon, I’m-!”

you don’t get to finish your sentence, interrupted by the snap of the cord in your stomach that was previously tightening. pleasure overtakes your nerves, flooding your veins and momentarily removing your ability to speak (or think). jon’s tongue doesn’t stop fully, only slowing down to help you ride out your peak.

you catch your breath, feeling jon kiss the inside of your thighs as small aftershocks have you clenching around nothing. you find yourself seeking his touch (as if he hasn’t been constantly on you), your hand running along the surface of your thigh to find his own. he reaches for you, trapping your own smaller hand beneath his own. it’s reassuring, grounding you back to the present after he brought you so far over the edge.

you move to get off, to let him get up & breathe — but he doesn’t release his grip, keeping you in place. you hear him speak.

“Only once?”

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ pocket powerhouse ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @klerns-birdie ˚₊ ⊹

ft. logan howlett x f! reader x wade wilson — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ entering the void with their tiny, mighty companion┊1.4k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: canon typical blood & violence (and murder lol), reader is described as short & cute, super strength mutation, reader is the one who kills sabertooth in this one, fourth-wall break

➤ author's note: this was funnier in my head

they had you surrounded on all fronts, some standing before you and others on armored vehicles, holding their weapons and fists up ready to strike at any moment. if they didn’t clearly have bad intentions, then you would have been flattered at this little welcome party gathering together after only a few minutes of being sent into the void. they probably heard the ruckus wade and logan were making since they simply couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

meaning, they couldn’t stop beating each other up and using any means necessary to shed blood or break bones despite it all being healed within the span of seconds.

you find the only successful way to get them to stop trying to kill each other is by threatening to kill them first, throwing a punch into the ground to destroy it under you as a means to grab their attention while shouting that you’ll decapitate them if they continue.

they listen to you most of the time and drop the mini battles, not because they believe you would actually do it, but because they believe they are humoring you by doing so (and because they know to sit down and shut up when a pretty woman tells them to). with super-strength as your mutation, you could do it with ease, they know you can— it’s just so difficult to think that such a cute little thing who pouts when ignored and is frequently used as an armrest due to short stature would ever do anything of the sort. you still have yet to act on your warnings, only depending on bloodlust-filled glares to settle them down much like a teacher waiting for her noisy class to be quiet.

logan thinks you all bark and no bite, wade compares you to an angry bunny, it’s safe to say they take what you say with a grain of salt, exchanging amused looks and admiring how cute you are when yelling profanities and gory details of how you’re going to maim them. (blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name— backstory stuff)

the three of you cringed at the failure of johnny storm, grimacing when his balls probably got crushed on a metal pole and every time he hit his head before getting captured. his end goal was clearly to escape, but you didn’t quite know how he was planning to get there when he set himself alight and started flying.

“i know you!” a large man with flowing blonde hair jumped off the tank, landing with a heavy thud on the compacted sand.

“oh my god, that’s sabertooth, peanut’s brother,” wade explained.

“brother? they don’t really look anything alike aside from being… uh… feral?”

“well you see, apparently there are some discrepancies about that. the author isn’t sure about anything because her bitch-ass still hasn’t watched any of the x-men movies or done her research. something about ‘being too busy with real life,’ can you believe that?”

“okay, you lost me when you started talking about ‘an author,’ but lay off her!”

sabertooth growled at logan, “ready to die?” 

“hey, don’t threaten him! i don’t care if he’s your brother, he’s my friend!” you interrupted, walking up to him, acting nonchalantly like he was a teddy bear when he was truly a grizzly. he was much taller than you too, towering over you and leaving you in his shadow.

“get outta my way, girlie” he barked, extending his claws, prepared to sink them into your flesh. “you’re lucky you’re cute, or else i already would have killed you.”

“aww, thank you! but i can’t accept compliments from someone who wants to kill my friend, so to that, i say ‘fuck off!’”

before he could let out a roar about how you should know who you’re talking to or swipe his claws at your face, you lifted your hand and slapped him across the face. it was much like a dramatic slap from television shows where the girl finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her or something, except his head went flying off into the distance and sprayed blood everywhere. it happened so quickly that his body stood there for a second before flopping over.

“oh my god!” wade exclaimed, cupping his face in his hands from surprise before excitedly clapping them together, “oh my god, that’s my girl— that’s our girl! see, that’s what happens when you enlist a y/n on your team, i told you that it was a good idea to take her with us!” he picked up the decapitated head and waved his arms around, paying no mind to the dripping red iron spilling on his costume, “you bitches saw that? she’s cute ‘n tiny but mighty, and she’ll absolutely fuck you up!”

the victory was short-lived as they took advantage of logan’s adamantium skeleton and other large pieces to scrap to trap all of you to a magnet. normally, this would be a breeze for you to get yourself out of, but you got hit in the head and quickly fell unconscious for them to ship you all away to cassandra.

when you finally woke up, you’re tied back-to-back with johnny and find your two companions in a similar position. “are you guys okay?”

“they’re asleep, but i’m okay,” logan answered, voice uncharacteristically amiable. despite being just as annoying as deadpool, he liked you a whole lot more and never spoke to you as roughly as he did to him. you were sweeter, more empathetic and understanding that he needed his own space, and, he isn’t going to lie, very easy on the eyes. “and you?”

“i’m okay! my head really hurts though…” you winced and shook your head a few times, trying to get the pounding sensation out. “god, this place is crazy. first we get teleported to this junkyard and then—”

“did you really mean what you said back there?”

“what did i say?”

“well… you…” god, he felt stupid, he was about to back out and say ‘nevermind,’ but he knows that you wouldn’t have let him go so easily. “you said that i was your friend…”

“yeah! you are! i mean, i killed your brother for you even though you could have done it yourself, putting myself in danger just so that you didn’t have to— you better consider me a friend too!”

he should tell you that you shouldn’t call him that nor think of him that way since nothing good ever comes out associating with him, but he can’t bring himself to say the words he’s routinely told others to successfully push them away. something about the look in your eyes, the way they sparkled when you looked at him. something about your smile, toothy and full of hope for the future to make up for his lack of. something about you makes him keep his mouth shut.

instead, he looks away, muttering a quiet word of thanks.

you tilt your head in slight confusion, not understanding the depth of your statement yet and how it managed to pull a word of gratitude out of a man who was in a constant state of irritation, but it made you irrationally happy and giddy inside.

wade was murmuring a few unintelligible sentences before coming to, and despite wearing a mask that covered his entire face, you could envision the mild look of disgust behind the leather as clear as day. “ew, why are you smiling like that??” he took a glance at you and then back at him, repeating the process a few times. “what the fuck? you guys can’t have a love story and leave me out of it! i’m the reason you two even met—” he finally seemed to process the situation from the close proximity with logan, looking him in the eyes through the white fabric of his mask and trying to find a way to loosen it to no avail. “how long have i been asleep?”

“not all of you was asleep.”

johnny seemed to wake up as well, beginning to tell a whole bunch of exposition about this place you were trapped in, something about a monster that would swallow you up and a “her” who runs this entire place. he laughed at the notion of evading this woman’s grasp, but wade thought otherwise.

“nah, we can take her! i have a pocket powerhouse and the wolverine on my side, i’m not scared of anything!”

no one quite believes him, but it’s nice to see that your optimism has rubbed off on him.

[lomlompurim]

What if instead of waking up in the mushroom body, sqq woke up in a doll.

Something something while lbh was away in the abyss, sqq without noticing offended a misterious (demonic-succubi-esque???) cultivator with a weird thing for making dolls. She had dolls all over her secret workshop that she very kindly let him into when she heard about the famous Xiu Ya sword being in the city.

What she wanted of him? Who knows, sqq couldn't bring himself to care. She probably wanted his money or try to steal his hair, the hair of those dolls seemed very much like real hair, although he had to admit the level of details on these dolls were amazing.

(she wanted to trick him into buying one of her cursed dolls and steal his life energy little by little, but got wifebeamed by widow sqq during their conversation about how talented she was to be able to make so many dolls, and without really understanding he rejected her with little to no emotion on his face)

So she cursed him, and since sqq didn't feel anything bad at the moment he thought it just didn't work and left, not sparing the curse a single thought after their encounter.

The rest of the story goes as usual, excep that after he self detonates his soul doesn't go into the mushroom body, instead it got directly into the shape of a doll in the workshop of this woman.

His first thought is thinking someone snitched the mushroom body bc wtf wasn't he supposed to wake up under the dirt??? Why this place smells slightly familiar? Like paint and humidity and floral perfumes?? and why everything looks fucking giganourmus?!?! A teapot should NOT look that big from his position....Oh no, did the mushroom body turned out as small as a squirrel? WhAT is happening?!

And then he looks at his arms and legs, and he has joints. White paper skin with joints in his wrists, elbows, torso, waist, knees, feet. And he panics, a lot.

The woman who cursed him starts monologuing about how she trapped him now, and you are mine, I made this doll specially for you master shen, this is my revenge for your insolence to leave me yada yada- Sqq stoped listening a while ago.

Somehow he manages to escape from this woman and now he is roaming around as the size of some apples. Everything is huge. Everything is dangerous, even the grasshopers! And this body is fragile! He can't feel heat nor cold, neither hunger or other things, but he is useless with no spiritual veins inside, and if someone is not looking carefully, they might crush him. And the way back to cq is gonna be a hell of a trip! But he needs airplane to fix this. He can't stay as a doll forever! He needs a mushroom body and then fly into the sunset far from this mess! Adiós! Goodbye! So his new plan is to infiltrate into cang qiong, look for that rat and disappear. Sneaking into some disciple's pouch must be enough to break in.

Something something it only had passed a few months since lbh stole sqq's body and everything is still very fresh. CQ mountain is a hot mess. Sqh frankly needs to lay down and take a nap. Lqg keeps figthing with Lbh practially every day and coming back beaten bloody, he has his king pestering him and a lot of paperwork to do, Lbh is a pain in the ass, Yqy is really close to snap and start a war with HHP, and he knows nothing about his bro. So yeah. Such a great time to be alive.

The mushroom bodies should had been ready, right? He must be alright...Yeah. He has enough already to keep him busy. Cucumber bro is gonna come out and stumble across at any moment. No one would bat an eye if he takes a nap, right? He deserves it. He is overworked enough for another lifetime, his head hurts, his bones hurt everywhere, a short nap should be fine...

Until he feels something small tugging his robes and a cold tiny finger poking his eyelids. But he doesn't want to. He is very comfortable on the floor of his office. Whatever bird decided to pick a fight with his face can keep trying.

"AIRPLANE, WAKE UP, YOU HACK! I NEED YOU TO FIX THIS! WHY IS A WITCH WITH ANACHRONISTIC HAUNTED DOLLS IN THIS NOVEL? THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

That voice. That fucking annoying voice was of just one person and one person only. He opened his eyes, looking for the source of the unmistakable voice of his No1 hater, but he came across with a pretty porcelain doll. With a very ugly sneer in it's face.

"W-Wha-?...Bro-?!"

"Fucking finally! Why are you sleeping on the floor in your ofice?! I was looking around your bedroom like an idiot! Do you know how close I was to falling from your window?!"

-TBC-

[eufezco]

you meet joel again after the outbreak and he finds out you have a daughter

seeing joel again after the outbreak was something you thought would never happen, but there he was, twenty years later, with almost completely gray hair and beard, and looking more tired than he used to. his brown eyes shone when he saw you, thinking that you were some sort of hallucination produced by tiredness, but your arms hugging his neck felt so tight and your head against his chest felt too real to be a creation of his mind.

he gulped nervously and took a few steps backward when you took the little girl in your arms as if he was scared of the little human. you had always been very good with children so he wasn't surprised that you were now taking care of them in jackson. because that's what it was, wasn't it? you were looking after someone's child, right?

"this- this is my daughter, joel." oh shit. your face expressed concern, waiting for a reaction from the man in front of you, but his eyes were locked on the child in your arms. he should have guessed. enough time passed, you were a grown woman and life was good in jackson, probably the best place on earth right now to start a family. he softly nodded his head, trying not to show how shocked he was. the baby was sucking on her finger, cooing and doing that stupid baby sounds like she was mocking him. "congrats" was all he could say.

he was waiting for you to introduce him to the father of your daughter, but you never did, it was as if you were torturing him slowly. maria wanted to put joel and ellie in the house across the street from hers and tommy's, but you offered them to stay with you.

"oh, that place has been untouched since the outbreak, i actually think only the heat works." you cut tommy off when he was saying that it was decent. joel was gonna decline your offer but ellie, who had been tickling your daughter's belly and playing with her tiny hands until that moment, was quicker than him on saying that they'd love to.

he hated to see that baby. joel hated her chubby cheeks and her small hands trying to reach for him every time he was near. he also hated tripping over her toys around the house and how she cutely laughed when ellie played with her. he hated seeing her wrapped in a towel like a burrito after her bath and he hated to see her cheeks and nose red from the cold weather, and how she stomped when she was wearing her big coat and fell on her ass in the snow.

"so, where's the dad?" ellie asked you with her mouth full of food. joel gave her a look that would have killed her and huffed. there was truly no way this kid was shutting the fuck up. "you don't have to -" "no, it's fine." you assured joel while making sure that your daughter was liking her food. you threw a glance at joel to see his reaction and he was looking at you with his face more relaxed than usual. his brow was not furrowed and his eyebrows were arched, trying not to show how interested he was in your answer but at the same time very annoyed because of ellie being so nosy. "he left." "shit- i'm sorry." you shook your head. "it was before she was born. it's better this way, you know? if he was gonna be a shitty dad, i prefer him not to be around." "hell yeah. fuck him." ellie said while nodding her head in agreement with what you were saying. joel threw another deadly glance at ellie after she cursed in front of you and your kid. " i bet you are the coolest mom, right joel?" ellie's words made you giggle but you were also waiting for joel's answer. it was easy for him to empathize with you since you were going through the same thing he went through with sarah. he found it very easy to be a single parent. sarah was the best kid and he had you and tommy to help him. but you were alone, you lived alone, you had to go to work, and you had to take care of your daughter. he clenched his jaw. "that's right."

when you showed them your house, ellie loved it. she lay down on your couch, she opened your fridge, she sat in front of the fireplace, she turned the lights on and off multiple times, checking that they were indeed working. joel told her to stop but you assured him that it was okay, you liked seeing the girl so excited over such small things.

joel on the other hand was static next to you while ellie played around. your daughter was looking at him with her head resting on your shoulder, and joel looked at her from time to time only to find that the baby was still staring at him.

you showed them the rest of the house. ellie had her own room, which was meant to be your daughter's future room but she could have it, and you would share your room with joel. but after seeing his face, you thought it might have been a better idea to offer him the guest room.

"we also have a guest room. there's no bed but there's a couch and the heat doesn't work there but if you want-" "oh no, old joel will be great here." ellie appeared behind him, giving a few pats on his shoulder. you smiled at the girl but waited for an answer from joel. he was trying so hard to ignore the crib next to your side of the bed and how the little girl was sitting in the middle of the mattress, playing with her stupid little toys and violently sucking on her pacifier. instead of that, he decided to remember all those nights sleeping with ellie either in the woods or in the car, and the way he could hardly move when he woke up the next day because his body ached so much. but joel also remembered how good it felt being your little spoon and waking up next to you. of course, he didn't expect things to be like they used to be, but probably sleeping next to you was the only thing he had left of what once was his home. "this is okay." "great! and it's not as if we haven't slept together before, so..." you added trying to downplay the issue. "woow." ellie was so interested in this. "how is that?" "no-" "we were neighbors, and sometimes we-" "enough."

you knew why joel was so distant with your daughter. meanwhile, ellie loved to be around her, joel tried as hard as he could to keep his distance. you lived next to them and in the afternoons you helped sarah with her homework. you stayed with them for dinner and then enjoyed a movie or played some board games with them. the night the outbreak started, joel knocked on your door and told you to go inside his truck immediately. you were familiar with the relationship joel had with his daughter and you knew what a shock it had been to lose her. that's why you didn't blame him for his behavior.

"is she okay?" joel asked you half asleep and you hummed in response. "she's just hungry. i'm sorry. you can go back to sleep." you sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep of your eyes and picking her up in your arms. you mumbled something to her and kissed her forehead while you started to softly rock her in your arms. "no. how can i- how can i help?" joel sat on the bed and waited, noticing how she calmed down after you took her in your arms. the light coming from the street illuminated your silhouette and allowed Joel to appreciate your daughter's wet face. "hm- i need her bottle. it's ready in the kitchen. if you could heat it in the microwave for like a minute, that would be great." while he waited, he couldn't help but think of baby sarah in his arms. her cheeks were wet and her eyes were wide open, joel had to leave early in the morning for work but he didn't mind staying with her up all night if it was necessary. joel was trying to distract her until her bottle was ready, letting her small fingers wrap around his big one. joel had to take a few seconds before going back to the room with you, his hand pressed against his chest trying to control his breathing. once he came back with the baby's bottle, he sat by your side, handing it over to you and nodding after you thanked him. he watched as she enjoyed her meal and as you softly rocked her in your arms. your head fell on joel's shoulder and he didn't know what to do so he just stayed with you like that until you finished feeding her.

"i'm late. i'll see you at lunchtime." you couldn't be late another time, maria will literally kill you. you placed your daughter in joel's arms before you could remember how hesitant he had been with her and he had no other choice but to hold her so she wouldn't fall.

"are you okay? do you want me to take her?" ellie asked after seeing joel's shocked face. he held the little girl with outstretched arms, keeping her away from him. the baby cooed and extended her arms wanting to reach joel. she opened and closed her fist, getting really impatient and starting to make sounds of discomfort. the man frowned and had no other choice but to hold her against his chest. "shit... well done, joel. look, she even seems to like you." ellie added when the girl hid her face in joel's neck.

a few days after that he seemed to be closer to your daughter, you even caught him playing with her rattle, your daughter lying in her crib and with her arms up in the air trying to reach the toy. he was serious, not allowing himself to show how he really felt. your baby laughed with him and you decided to leave the room carefully to not interrupt the moment.

he started with small things like letting her hold his thumb between her fist every time he noticed she was staring into his soul again, and always keeping an eye on her when ellie was helping her to walk in the snow in case she fell or got tired of trying. then joel started feeding her, cutting the fruit into very small pieces, making sure that the milk wasn't too hot or too cold. at first, just sitting by your side but she was too distracted by his presence to eat so he had to start feeding her eventually.

you sighed in exhaustion once you entered your house. "i'm so tired." you sighed again and rested your head on joel's shoulder. your baby was half asleep on joel's arm, visibly comfortable by the way she cooed every now and then and by the way she rubbed her face against his arm. joel was rocking her softly. using one finger you tickled her belly to let her know that you were home. he put her in her pajamas, fed her dinner and you would even say that he had bathed her by the way her little curls were still damp. "she likes you." you said. he brought the pacifier to her mouth and with closed eyes, she quickly caught it with her lips. "she likes you more than me." "that's not true." joel spoke with a low voice, being careful not to be too rough and wake the child up. he turned his head to look at you, his eyes finally leaving your daughter to pay attention to you. you also looked at him with your head still resting on his shoulder. "you like her more than me." you pouted, trying to stay focused on his deep brown eyes and not on his lips and how close his mouth was to your face. "also not true." you smirked and moved one of your hands to play with your daughter's. she squeezed your index finger tightly between her tiny fist while joel kept looking at you. all that you had now should have been with him. your daughter, your house, your life. before the outbreak happened, one night drinking a few glasses of wine at his house after sarah went to sleep, you told him what you hoped your life would be like. you wanted to find your person and maybe even get married, you wanted to travel, moved in with them, start a family, raise your children, have movie nights. not much different from what you had with him at that time. you were almost there, touching your dreamed life with your fingertips, if you only had more time... when joel realized, your eyes were on him again and you had his chin between your thumb and index finger. your thumb brushed his lower lip, testing the waters, and his eyes slowly closed. you understood that as a green light to continue so, you leaned towards him and pressed your lips against his. just like that, no need to move them or rush things. you just missed feeling his lips against yours as much as he did. the kiss lasted ten seconds at most, but it was enough time for your breaths to mix and for joel's body to truly relax after months. you showed a little smile to him after the kiss and the soft look on his face let you know that he was satisfied. you went in for another kiss and he had his eyes closed already but then all of a sudden, your daughter on joel's arm started crying. "oh, i think someone's jealous."

[dramatic-dolphin]

hey just wanted to rant too cuz this shit makes me ashamed of being italian. I'm used to hating this country for a multitude of valid reason but Carini was so fucking dumb and stupid I wasn't prepared for this.

Like Bitch your fucking job is being punched in the face. you could've picked any other sport but you were like you know what. I want to get punched in the face. I will dedicate my life to Getting Punched In The Face. Like with what kind of integrity do you go up on the stadium of Get Publically Punched in the Face and curl up crying. You are pathetic. I've broken bones in sports cause it Just Comes With The Territory but nahhh were gonna weaponise the patronising feelings people have about us to start a witch hunt on someone who isn't even trans. Can you believe that you can be fucking defined as Too Strong to be a woman? Like oh I'm sorry. I wasn't aware that the female Olympics section was a kindergarten playtime to let those poor weak women think they can achieve physical feats too. I hate her so much.

One last time. HOW CAN YOU CRY. ABOUT BEING PUNCHED IN THE FACE. WHEN YOU'RE. A FUCKING. BOXER.

Can you guys imagine if it was a dude that pulled this shit??? No one would take him seriously cause bitch. getting concussions for our entertainment is your FUCKING . JOB. Sigh .

tbf it wouldn't even be a problem in itself if everyone just handled it like normal fucking people. she got hit too hard for her to handle - comes with the territory, i suppose being a boxer does not make you immune to pain. everyone has bad days.

it's just that EVERYONE is rallying to protect this poor innocent fragile woman - who is an OLYMPIC BOXER - because she got punched too hard - IN AN OLYMPIC BOXING MATCH. BY ANOTHER BOXER. just. this is so mind-numbingly stupid. do people see white woman tears and lose all their rational thinking? poor fragile little woman crying, must protect? THIS IS AN OLYMPIC BOXER BEING HIT BY ANOTHER OLYMPIC BOXER IN HER WEIGHT CLASS. this italian woman could probably lay you out in one punch, even if she sucks, because she is, as i keep repeating, An Olympic Boxer. she is not fragile 😭😭

and just. "she hit me too hard, i immediately yielded" like hello???? what you are saying is she was too good at her job. at the sport both of you are there for? what you are saying is "she was so good, i immediately knew i didn't have a chance" and this is HER fault? for being too good?

i get you fully btw. imane khelif's next match is against a woman from my country (hungary). you can imagine the kind of shit people are saying. i just saw an article saying that our athlete shouldn't be her "next victim". VICTIM OF WHAT? BEING PUNCHED IN THE FACE AT THE 'GETTING PUNCHED IN THE FACE' SPORT????? are swimmers the victims of water now? am i victimized by someone running faster than me? IT'S A SPORT WHERE PEOPLE PUNCH EACH OTHER. i need to burn down the internet fr.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

How would konig react if reader left? like maybe without a trace n just disappeared cause she couldn’t anymore?

Hehehe... No one escapes König.

TW/CW: Can we just all agree that toxic!König is a trigger warning on its own from now on? I mean, it's the regular: stalking, harassing, sexism, potential killing(s)... also light angst (featherlight if you compare to the "cheating on König" answer.)

I mean, sure, he would be upset if he found out reader is trying to get away from him. He's not stupid. König knows he's built different (in more ways than one) and knows he will never be the man reader deserves. Still, he is fixed on the idea that they belong together. They are carved from the same tree. She is the moon to his sun, the light to his darkness. Wherever she goes, he goes. It should be the other way around, but if the woman of his dreams plays hard to get... Sure, he'll entertain her.

If someone approaches reader, König gets very territorial. Those poor souls get threats, maybe even some stabbing – this really depends on the situation. But if reader tries to detach or leave the relationship, he would observe this change in behavior with curious anxiety.

If drastic measures are taken and she tries to escape or make a disappearing act, König would simply do everything he can to find her. And let me tell you: this man can and will outwit anyone who doesn't share his background and training. So unless reader gets some actual, skilled, professional help from outside, she doesn't have much of a chance.

And when König eventually finds her, he would try to talk her back. Just persuade, persuade, persuade. Apologize if and when he has done something wrong. Shower her with attention and compliments and gifts. Beg, even – on his knees like a lovelorn knight. If reader says it's over and she doesn't want to continue the relationship, it would break his heart. But that would only last for a day or two. He knows who he belongs to and most of all, who belongs to him, so he would form a plan. König wouldn't get too discouraged.

He would simply draw his shoulders back and stay around. For years, if need be. After all, he already won her heart – he will do so again. He promised he would never let her go.

He would check up on her, be very suave and gentlemanly about it. Reader can always talk to him if she needs someone to turn to. They can at least remain friends, right?

If she answers his calls, he would at some point come over. Uninvited, yes, but just to pay a brief visit... See if she needs something. He is always willing to help should reader need something. A bookshelf needs to be assembled? He's on it! Reader needs a ride somewhere? He's already on his way. Whatever it is, he can do it. (He will show her how useful he is, verdammt noch mal.)

If reader tries to see others... uh-oh. König would start by threatening the possible candidates. No one would stay around for long to oppose this man. If they did, well, death sentence for them! Or at least a new hole somewhere. While he sort of knows that what he's doing is wrong, he also can't stand the idea of someone laying eyes, let alone a finger on her. He can't stand the thought of spending the rest of his life without her, because if she were to find someone new, someone better, he would watch that shit from afar and slowly break to pieces. And that's just not an option.

One slip of a comfort fuck, and she wouldn't get him out of her house. He would view it as a sign that you're back together again no matter what you tell him. Also, did I say comfort fuck? I meant mad, pent-up pounding that lasts the whole night. The sheets would be in shreds, reader would be covered in sweat and cum and tears and bite marks made in the heat of passion and frustration. The cuddles that follow nearly leave her bruised. König has missed her SO much 💞

So, the cocktail would be: hunting her down, harassing, stalking and "helping" her, bullying her dates... Our king would even resort to simping 🥺.

But König would only say he's in love. He will simply never find another you ❤️. (And you're not allowed to find anyone else either.)

He would view it romantic in a way: reader forces him to woo her all over again! As we already know, hunter/prey dynamics only give him a thrill. She must like the setting too. Why else would she do something like this? "Women and their games…" That would be his thought, accompanied with a shrug.

[breedtheseed]

Eden Adam wanting to have Lucifer’s baby is just too adorable to me.

So the idea goes like this.

Eden Adam sees the animals start having children of their own and Adam gets baby fever basically but Lilith doesn’t want to have a baby with him (this is a AU in which Adam and Lilith treat each other as good siblings) which makes him really sad. However Lucifer, who is already in love with Adam, tells Adam he could help. Adam is super excited and can’t wait to have one, but first Lucifer must court him doing his little bird mating habits. (Cuz I like the idea that angels find their partners like birds and mate for life)

When they are finally intimate it’s next to a tree while the stars shine over them, it’s heated and passionate and Adam tells Lucifer how he feels. Both confessing their feelings while they make love.

Adam gets pregnant but he doesn’t know it’ll him and Lilith are snacking together.

Lilith: Adam you are eating a lot

Adam pouts and puts his fruit down: I’ve just been really hungry that’s all

Lilith tilts her head and feels his belly: is not soft

Adam looks at her hand that is touching a slight bump on his stomach, he places his hand over hers: you think it’s a baby?

Lilith shrugs her shoulders and sits back to finish her meal but Adam is still feeling his stomach, he blushed thinking about the nights him and Lucifer were together. Lucifer hadn’t visited the garden in two months, he had gotten in trouble for visiting the garden but the angels didn’t know he and Adam had slept together.

When Lucifer did come back Adam was already showing, he was around six months and to Lucifer he looked beautiful. Lucifer had to keep their visits short but he always made sure to bring Adam things and continue his courting even if he had already considered them mates.

Lucifer was obsessed with Adam and would constantly be near the two humans, usually singing with Lilith while also laying in Adam’s lap. He loved how Adam would play with his hair or make him little flower crowns, he grew even more excited when his precious Adam felt the baby kick and was crying to him on how thankful he was. Lucifer felt prideful and envious that the angels assumed the baby was Liliths, but he knew better than to tell them.

One day however Lilith told lucifer she had eaten from the tree of knowledge and wished to be freed from the garden, at first Lucifer was against it but he felt remorse for the woman. She was Adam’s wife and he couldn’t just let her be punished, so he agreed. However before they left he begged Adam to join them to hide till the angels weren’t mad but Adam refused gently telling Lucifer he had to stay for his baby.

They said their goodbyes and Lucifer promised to be back for Adam.

While Lucifer and Lilith hid, Adam enjoyed the rest of his pregnancy. Soon the angels had realized the child wasn’t Liliths due to Lucifer’s disappearance, they told lies to Adam that Lucifer had abandoned him that he didn’t love him. Adam didn’t believe them after all they were going to have a baby why would Lucifer abandon him when he said he loved him.

After the child was born Adam was so happy, the baby had dirty blond hair and Lucifer’s pretty face. Adam loved his baby but he needed help. The angels took pity on him and created Eve from his rib (they took his pussy and gave it to her leaving him with the dick) Eve was Adam’s new wife but Adam didn’t see it that way. He saw Eve as his friend someone to help with his baby and keep him company.

Eve admired Adam’s strength and his ability to calm the baby so quickly, and how happy Adam would get when telling her about Lilith and Lucifer. Even telling her that he wanted to be Lucifer’s husband.

Adam: he’s so amazing Eve you need to meet him when he comes back

Eve: he does sound fucking awesome I bet he’s going to be so happy when he sees you and Cain

Adam blushed and smiled down at his baby who is suckling his milk: yeah I can’t wait for him to be back

However when Lucifer and Lilith return it’s in the night, Lilith is the first to enter Adam’s home. Her eyes widen when she sees Adam in their bed with another, both are holding hands while sleeping on their side acting as walls for the baby between them. They were sound asleep, Adam looked happy and she felt disgusted.

Adam replaced her.

She quickly exited and grabbed Lucifer’s hand pulling him away from the hut.

Lucifer: what’s going on?

Lilith spoke with a coked sob as she pulled him: he fucking replaced us

Lucifer ripped his hand away: he wouldn’t replace us Adam loves us

Lilith glared at him and pointed to the hut: then go see for yourself

And like Lilith, Lucifer’s heart shattered at the image of Adam and Eve. He bit his lip as tears began to roll down his face, his mate for life had replaced him. Instead of waking his Adam he chose to leave, his heart hurt too much and if it was true he wouldn’t be able to bare it.

Lilith was the one who came up with the idea to trick Eve into eating the apple, it was revenge for replacing her. So she asked Lucifer to give it to her.

Lucifer: hello Eve

The angel spoke so kindly and all Eve had heard about him was he was Adam’s friend, Eve smiled as she waved and approached the angel.

Eve: hello Lucifer

Lucifer offered the fruit: here I got this for you

She happily thanked him and took a bite not knowing she was damning herself, Adam and Cain. When she realized what was happening it was too late, Adam had ran to her and Lucifer Cain strapped to his back. Eve apologized to Adam and said she didn’t know that Lucifer offered it to her.

Adam: Luci why? I thought—

Lucifer was pissed how dare Adam take her side he was supposed to be his mate: I hate you!! You never loved me and I can’t stand to look at you

Adam was so hurt as Lucifer screamed at the three of them, Cain had begun to cry when the angels came down. They had to separate a very angry Eve from Lucifer before passing judgment, damning Lucifer to hell.

Before the devil and Lilith fell eve yelled at them: ALL HE EVER DID WAS LOVE YOU!!

The words never left Lucifer even as Lilith continued to believe Adam replaced them.

And same went for Adam, Eve further convincing Adam that Lucifer abandoned him.

A very large misunderstanding

When they meet back in hell after Adam has become a sinner it takes a long time before they are actually talking again (I want them together so let’s just say they fixed things up when they found out it was a misunderstanding)

The end

[fancyfeathers]

zainiscompletelydone333 asked a question

omg but imagine william's potential darling to be like agatha christie? a mystery writer whose mysteries are almost impossible to solve. whether or not they are as smart as the masterminds or detectives in her books, her stories do come close to confusing even sherlock or william a bit. if you've read her "and then there were none" SPOILERS its about a judge killing people for being evil and that is so william coded. anyways i'm straying far what I mean is william could be a quiet fan, and as the lord of crime, even replicate some of her stories as part of his crimes. watching his darling's face pale at the unknown criminal doing such a thing.....ASDKSHD an when he finally does officially meet her, he wonders if she'l ever base a character off him. a hero, or perhaps a villain?

For some reason this isn’t showing up in my tumblr inbox but thank god for my email cause this is a gem! Thank you @zainiscompletelydone333 for this!

Okay I love Agatha Christie, an actual icon! Fun fact she actually faked her own disappearance in 1926 and the police couldn’t find her for over a week and she just took a vacation to London after her husband threatened to leave her and she said fuck it and decided to treat herself. Then also Arthur Conan Doyle the author of Sherlock Holmes was hired to find her.

Anyway I am getting so off track but I love this lady so much so here we go!!!

But yes William would absolutely adore a darling like her. Imagine him first finding her works for the first time, perhaps one of his brothers or Sebastian or Fred was reading her work and just out of curiosity he picks up one of her books and is just immediately enthralled. Whenever he is not busy he is reading or even rereading one of her books and even begins to be teased by others for his slight addiction to her works.

Then when he and Sherlock is on the train investigating the murder that is when he gets an idea from both this and one of her books.

Weeks later an aristocrat who had been acting as a loan shark was found dead on a train in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times, his door locked from the inside, just like a murder from one of her most famous book…

But what William did not know is that she was on that same train…

And of course she found the body…

As William was making his way back to his seat to join his brothers, he hears a blood curdling scream and he simply chalks it up to someone finding the body. Then the panicked woman is brought to her seat by the staff and she looks a mess, pale faced, tears rolling down her face, hyperventilating, all things someone should be after seeing a dead body.

She is being asked questions when she finally calms down enough and William’s ears prick up as he hears words he never thought he would hear…

“Oh god… this is my fault…”

He turns his head to the booth next to him and sees her in absolute terror as she speaks to the train conductor.

She is right next to him…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

After everything from that incident had settled and she is off at home, trying to work on her next work for the life of her but being horrified by what she just witnessed…

Then more deaths come to surface all with the same pattern…

They are based on her books…

The author is absolutely horrified, she is loosing sleep, not eating as she should, and has rarely left her house in weeks…

Then she gets a knock on her door from a certain detective who was hired to look into one of the deaths, Sherlock Holmes. While he may like her books, he has noticed the pattern like she has and has one request for her…

“I want to help you to solve these cases. Who better to solve murders based on books better than the author herself?”

At first she refuses and dismisses him, but then when she is laying in bed that night she realizes he was right.

Her drawing room becomes a mess of her old notes that she had tucked away from when she wrote her book, copies of her her books with dozens bookmarks in them, newspaper clippings all around, and evidence she had Sherlock get access to with his connections that she doesn’t have.

After days of pure investigation and nights of no sleep she finally was able to figure out where the next murder will be, just by what books are left…

But that’s the thing…

There is not a single work of hers left that this murderer has not take inspiration from…

The only thing left is the author, and she can only assume that she is the next target. So without telling Sherlock, she packs up her bags and fakes her own disappearance, to fool both the police and the murderer.

She spends so much time in the shadows, watching and waiting to see who looks into her disappearance, seeing how people react to it, but nothing, not a thing…

It frustrates her even further…

Then she finally decides to return home, feeling like a failure. Her house if just how she left it, even the papers in the drawing room that look like the work of a madman that she will have to clean up after her failure so she can go back to what she is good at, fictional murders not really ones…

No she can’t do that, that would only give the murderer ideas…

So she quits.

No one hears from her for months as she nods herself taking up a librarian position at a local library, at least she is doing something with her literature. She says goodbye to Mr. Holmes and tucks away all her old books and works in progress that will never be finished on the shelves to collect dust for the rest of her life.

At her time working there she gets a frequent visitor at the library, a Mr. William James Moriarty. He had a fascination with murder mystery novels and the two form a quick friendship over their shared love of them. Everything feels like a new start, a clean slate but then he had to ask…

“Will you ever write again?”

That question has her heart hurt because she adores writing, but to sacrifice lives just for what she enjoys, she would never. She shuts down his question quickly and excuses herself, but then avoids the scarlet eyed man as to not be asked that question again.

But as she is laying in bed one night…

She hears the sound of footsteps in her study downstairs…

She feels her heart stop…

She closes her eyes and prays whoever is there will just go away, but they do not. So she musters whatever courage she has left and slips out of bed to see who is there in her study that has been collecting dust for almost a year…

And she approaches the closed door she realizes whoever is behind them must be the person behind the murders that gave plagued her and-

“William?”

The pangs of shock she feels in her chest when she sees the face of William Jane Moriarty looking through her unfinished works that she shelved away what felt like years ago. She must have looked like a deer in headlights as the Lord of Crime looking up at her with a smile, his red eyes staring into her soul…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

“Your unfinished work, will it have an ending? Or perhaps will we have to write one ourselves? What do you think, darling?”

The weeks go by and the next time the author is seen in public again she has an engagement ring on her finger and the announcement is being made about their upcoming wedding. The talk of the aristocracy says that she finally has a husband who is willing to deal with her crazied ideas that ended up killing so many people, not knowing that she is on the arm of the man who killed them…

Just for her.

(I could kinda imagine it ending up as a situation like the book Misery by Stephen King where he has her finish her work even if she doesn’t want to, but what differs is that while he doesn’t necessarily keep her locked up physically he does mentally. Sure go run off, he isn’t going to stop his darling, but just watch the bodies stack up pin ways she imagined, he is using her own mind against her which is the most terrifying of prisons. Then soon fear turns into dependency, she becomes terrified of him leaving her because now she has no where else to go but him so he has no need to hide her away when she clings to his arm like a terrified and wounded animal.)

[zombholic]

TATTOOS & ETC. — abby anderson

summary — y/n visits las vegas for vacation before college starts, she gets her first big tattoo piece there only to meet the owner of the shop.

description — tattoo artist!abby, poc fem!reader, obviously older abby, modern au, cant write smut so dont expect it, and ofc its gonna be a long story.

— 🗝️　 ◦ ✺ 　 💿　 ⟢ —

“So I booked a tattoo appointment for tomorrow, the artist had someone cancel and she filled me in.” You smiled talking to your friend who came along with you on your vacation before university.

“Wait it’s that wrap around tattoo you wanted on your thigh right?” She asked as she took a sip of her alcoholic drink.

“Yes, dude you know how long I’ve been wanting that for!” The piece was gonna break your bank account but your girl math said it was basically free since it would be on for the rest of your life.

The morning of the appointment you decided to wear baggy sweats and a black wife pleaser, couldn’t risk anything rubbing against your new collection to your body.

You walked inside hearing the little bell chime as the door opened, you walked up to the small desk to meet a young girl with tattoos scattered along her arms and neck.

“Hey, appointment or walk in?” She smiled cheerfully looking up from her computer and at you.

“Appointment with Jasmine, I’m y/n” You leaned forward on the desk returning a small smile, she had you follow her to the back and had you sit on the chair telling you that Jasmine will meet you in a minute.

“Hey Y/n! How you feeling?” A short masculine woman sat in her rolling chair sliding over to you with toothiest smile, a small gem glued on her canine that blinged with the light.

“Feeling a little nervous but i’ve been wanting this tattoo for a year now, kinda stalked your page and I love the way you draw floral pieces.” You complimented her work, she was truly talented.

She had asked you to remove your sweats, now in your boy shorts and laying on your side after she applied the stencil. The buzzing of the gun started making you nervous but you being you kept your cool, the needle now digging into your plush thighs had you clenching your jaw.

You went on your phone trying to distract yourself from the painful spots she was doing, you heard the bell from the front door jingle followed by a couple of greetings before a tall, muscular woman who was covered in art walk into the back where you were.

“Hey Jazz.” She greeted your artist, her voice made you want to squeeze your legs together.

“Hey Abby, what’re you doing here? isn’t it your day off?” Jasmine paused for a moment to talk to Abby before focusing back on you. She asked you to lay on your back and spread your legs so she could finish the inner thigh part.

“This part will hurt so just tell me if you need anything ok?” The artist reassured you, nodding your head she came back down with the needle.

“Fuck, oh my god.” You bit down on your fist, squeezing your eyes shut, your chest heaving.

“I’m the owner dumbass, I have paperwork shit to do.” She chuckled, her blue eyes now on you and your tattoo.

“That’s a gorgeous piece.” Abby complimented, her giant arms crossing her chest as she now focused on your thigh.

“Yeah and it hurts like a motherfucker.” You giggled looking up at her.

Abby swore her heart started beating out her chest when she saw you look at her, she was definitely calling you the gorgeous piece she just couldn’t keep her eyes off you.

“Here hold my arm, I know how badly that part hurts.” You took her arm, digging your short nails into her forearm god for some reason she was turned on by you being in pain.

When the inner thigh part was finished you released your hand from Abby, quickly apologizing for hurting her.

“You’re fine sweetheart, didn’t even feel it.” A chuckle escaped her lips, winking at you before walking off to where you could assume was her office.

“Annnd you’re all done girl!” Your artist wrapped your thigh, looking in the body mirror you couldn’t stop cheesing.

“You are literally so fucking talented what?” Your comment made her blush.

“Gonna leave without letting me see?” Abby’s voice came from behind, you looked up at the mirror to see the blonde walk up behind you.

“She can have my whole bank account” You turned around to show her the beautiful piece wrapped around your thigh.

“Here, lemme walk you to the front.” Abby smiled as you had slid back into your sweats and walked over to the desk.

Abby leaned forward while on the computer, you would honestly thank her if she punched you in the face right now.

“Want a picture sweetheart?” She joked, a cocky grin plastering her face as she looked at you.

“I think I want your number more.” You impressed her with your boldness, majority of people being so deathly afraid of her.

“Yes ma’am.” She licked her lips, taking your phone and adding her contact.

“I’ll text you the details for our date on Friday.” Abby laughed but she wasn’t joking, this was her asking you out and you happily accepted.

— 🗝️　 ◦ ✺ 　 💿　 ⟢ —

authors note — guys was this good … and do yall want another part EHEHEHEHE also like thank you @atomicami for basically inventing tattoo artist!abby 😩🫶🏼

[janeyseymour]

La Cosa Nostra- pt 5

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

cowritten with @schemmentis let us know what you think! 🤍

summary: the girls spend some time with nonna while you get a few moments with melissa... and then someone visits you late at night.

WC: ~4.15k

“With—” You blink slowly as your wife’s words sink in. “With Barbara Howard?!”

“She’s the safest place and you know it. They’ll never think she knows anything because she doesn’t. Hell, she asked me if we were committin’ fraud, Y/N. I only told her the truth; we aren’t and it’s an extra copy of the financials and they were gonna take the originals from the salon. They did, didn’t they?”

“Of course they did, they took everything that wasn’t nailed down. But Barbara? If she finds out the truth, Mel—”

“She won’t.”

“If she does,” You barrel on over your wife speaking. “You and I both know she’ll turn it over to the Feds. And…we’ll probably lose her in both our lives- the girls’ lives… It won’t matter how much she loves you or me or the girls. Barb is all about the right thing no matter what.”

Melissa’s hand runs through her hair, pushing it away from her face. “That won’t happen, alright? We just have to get through this. Eventually they’re gonna realize there’s nothin’ here, and they’re gonna fuck off. Then I’ll take the ledgers back from Babs and everything will go back to normal.”

You sink back into the couch cushions, sighing heavily. You want to believe your wife. You want to think that’s true. Except the amount of pressure from the Feds just the last two days is more than you’ve ever had to deal with. You might have Sammy representing you, who is just as confident as your wife that they won’t find anything at all, except you can’t help but think they will. 

Every day this drags on, every bit of extra pressure put on, it’s beginning to wear at you. You grip Mel’s hand lightly, inspecting the newly wrapped injury all over again though you don’t undo your own work. Your thumb lightly strokes her knuckles before bringing the bandaged hand up to your lips in an effort to comfort her and you both. You’ll never give up Mel or your girls. You won’t endanger them.

Still, a part of you wonders if it would be safer for them if you gave up yourself. You could go back down to the station, request Agent Danik and Shaw, return to that godforsaken gray interrogation room and tell them everything. You wouldn’t cop to killing Bobby, because you didn’t, but you could come clean about the salon if it means it would get them away from Mel and your twins…it would be worth it, wouldn’t it?

Melissa’s arms wrap around you as she curls into your side. Her head rests on your shoulder. “You barely got any sleep last night and after today…I won’t say no to a nap. Ma called me to let me know she’s getting the girls…we could rest awhile and head over there for dinner.”

Instantly, thoughts of giving yourself up shift into fighting for yourself instead. With your wife curled against you, and thoughts of dinner with your mother-in-law and your girls. You wouldn’t give up for the world this little life of yours. 

You turn your head to kiss Melissa’s hair, gently easing the both of you to lay on your couch as you return her embrace. “Best idea you’ve had our whole marriage.” You tease, already half asleep.

It earns you a light slap to your arm. “Yeah, right. We both know the best idea of our marriage was the girls.”

“Yeah,” You mumble, your fingers lazily carding through red locks. “You’re right.”

“I usually am, amore, I thought you knew that already.”

You can’t even bring yourself to argue or call her over confident. You only smile, warming over with your affection for your wife like it’s the first time all over again. You never get tired of that feeling.

After a nap that perhaps was a bit too long for your liking, you blink your eyes awake to see that wonderful woman you get to call your wife scrolling on her phone as she continues to lay on you.

“How’s your hand feeling, mo ghrá?” you ask her gently as you kiss her temple softly.

“Hurts like a bitch,” Melissa sighs. “But I’ll be okay. You know I always am.”

“I know, I know,” you chuckle lowly. It didn’t happen often, but when she first opened her restaurant, the nicks and cuts to her fingers and knuckles were more frequent because she was always flying around trying to handle everything all at once. The number of times it's happened since she settled into her role and the business took off dwindled, but each time it happened you were always there to wrap her hands and nurse them back to health.

“What time is it?” you ask as you stretch just slightly, but you can’t with her still on top of you.

“5:30,” she replies. “Ma has the girls eating dinner right now I’m sure.”

“I suppose we should go be mothers to our children,” you sigh softly as your hand settles on her forearm and rubs it soothingly.

Melissa puts down her phone, and when you think she’s going to slide off of you, she only curls further into you.

“Ten more minutes,” the woman requests quietly. Her grip tightens on you. “Just ten minutes of the two of us... I don’t know how much longer we have.”

There it is- as much as she tried to convince you that you were going to be fine with your church friend holding onto the books, she’s terrified- terrified of losing you for an uncertain amount of time, maybe forever if things take a turn for the worst and your fate turns out to be the same as Bobby’s.

You oblige her request, pressing yet another soft kiss to her temple before holding her tightly against you. The two of you together silently pray that everything works out in your favor, you’re able to evade the feds over this debacle, and continue on with life. You contemplate how you can get yourself out of the mob, how she can get herself out of the mafia, and you can leave this dark world that you know. Unfortunately you know that the only logistical way out of this all is death- or to fake your deaths. But you still hope and pray that you can find a way out- if only for your daughters. They don’t deserve to grow up with two parents always putting them at risk and then to have to take on your debts once you are no longer walking this earth with them. You want them to have a chance to go to Heaven, because if Heaven and Hell are real and true... you and your wife are almost certainly going to Hell.

Those ten minutes pass by almost silently, aside from your breathing, and then you sigh, “We really should go over to your ma’s and spend some time with the girls.”

“We should,” Melissa smiles softly as she lifts her head from the crook of your neck. She kisses you gently. “Ti amo, mi amore.”

“Tá mé i ngrá leat,” you reply just as softly, mumbled against her lips.

She’s up and off of you a few seconds later, offering you a hand to help you off the couch. The two of you quietly make your way out to the car and drive off in the direction of the matriarch of the family and your girls.

“Mam!” Rosie runs as fast her little legs will take her towards you. You scoop her up in a hug and press a million little kisses to her still chubby cheeks.

“Mommy!” Cat echoes as she runs for Melissa. Your wife crouches down with open arms and is nearly taken to the ground at the force of your oldest twin daughter. 

“Gentle, my love,” the redhead says softly as she sweeps your little girl off her feet and props her on her hip- the right hip as opposed to the left that Cat usually sits on.

Ever the observant, the little girl crinkles her nose just slightly in a way that screams Melissa. “Why am I on this side?” she asks.

“Mommy can’t hold both of you for a bit again,” you say softly. “She cut up her fingers again at the restaurant.”

“Silly Mommy,” Rosie chirps from your own hip. She leans over in your hold to press a kiss to Melissa’s cheek while Cat sloppily kisses your own.

“Girls! I told you to say hello to your mothers and then come back to finish your meals!” You can hear Melissa’s mother from the dining room. Both girls make faces that clearly say, ‘Oops!’ before giggling.

You and your wife carry the girls back into the room with all of the food and set them down in their chairs before leaning down to kiss Melissa’s mother’s cheeks before sliding into your own chairs.

“Oi, Lissa,” the older woman groans. “Cut yourself again, did you?”

“It was an accident, Ma!” the redhead groans.

“You need to stop flying around that restaurant of yours,” her mother scolds lightly as she scoops out rather large portions of the ribollita. “Everything will get done in time, and you need to take care of yourself!”

Dinner is loud, as it always is, and then you find yourself holding both of your girls on the couch while Melissa and her mother clean up dinner and prepare to bring dessert into the living room. Both girls chatter on about how their days at school went, and it’s quite hard to keep up with who is saying what, but you do your best to keep their stories straight.

Once you’ve all had your share of dessert, you stand, both girls on your hips. “I think it’s about time we get the girls home and to bed... I promised a story last night, and while I couldn’t keep it yesterday, I’m here tonight.”

Both girls yawn against you as Melissa slings both of their book bags over her shoulder before you all bid her mother a goodnight. 

You're tucking the girls securely into their car seats in the back when you hear a shout. “Oi! Youse left your bag, Lissa!”

You glance over your shoulder to see your mother-in-law leaning out the door with your wife's large purse. She's always carried too big of one since the day you met. You glance back to Melissa in the passenger seat. She looks exhausted but is about to open her door to get back out of the car.

“I got it.” You say, stopping her short. You smile at her question if you're sure. You lean between the front seats enough to kiss her. “Anything for you.” You whisper. “You know that.”

You turn and jog back up the sidewalk from the driveway to the front door. Your fingers curling around the handle next to Melissa’s mothers. “Thanks, Ma. You know she'd be lost without her bottomless bag.”

She smiles at you, though her fingers do not release her daughter's bag. She uses the handle to gently tug you closer. 

“I'm hearing whispers, Y/N.” She says lowly. “Ya know things ain't good when the gossip starts reaching the old folk like me.” 

“You're not old.” You reflexively say. It earns you a smile that mirrors your wife's from the older woman.

“I said it the day you married Lissa. I'll say it again today. Take care of my girl, Y/N. She chose you. Don't turn that into a mistake. You know I hate cleaning up mistakes.”

You answer exactly the same as you did on your wedding day. With a smile and, “Always, Mrs. Schemmenti. Takin’ care of your daughter is the only thing I care about.” You lean forward to kiss both her cheeks in goodbye. “And now your granddaughters.” You add softly before making your way back to the car.

“What’d she say?” Melissa asks as soon as you slip into the driver’s seat. You gently set her bag in her lap.

“Nothin’.” You answer swiftly as you back the car down the driveway and out onto the street.

Melissa scoffs next to you. “Yea. she said somethin’, what was it?” Your wife presses as she reaches for your hand resting on the gear shift.

You tangle your fingers with hers, kissing her knuckles. “Only what she’s said to me since the first time she met me.” You assure softly.

“Take care of my daughter.” Melissa says in time with you repeating her mother’s words. You nod, pressing an extra kiss to her hand before you lower it slightly to simply hold it in your own.

“Y’know she loves you more than anythin’.” You murmur, squeezing her hand lightly.

“Hm.” Melissa hums, her eyes on the street lamps passing as you drive your little family home. “Maybe not more than Mickey. He is the baby of the family and all.”

“How much longer till he’s out? It’s gettin’ close ain’t it?”

“Early next year, I think. I’ll double check next time we go up for a visit. Those damn letters take too long.”

“You’ll make sure you tell him I said hi, huh?”

Melissa rolls her eyes at your request. They slide away from street lamps, to the ceiling of your car, to land on you. “Y’know, I always do. He loves you almost as much as I love you.”

“Uh huh, my backup Schemmenti.” You tease with a smile. Yours and Melissa’s brother’s inside joke. He always said if she was dumb enough to divorce you, he’d propose so you could keep the last name and still come to family dinners. 

“Yea, yea, backup Schemmenti that you ain’t ever gonna need.” Melissa mutters. A moment later her hand is pulling away from yours when you slow the car for the red light. Her fingers lightly gripping your jaw to get your head to turn to kiss you properly for a drawn out moment. She pulls away when the light turns green again. “Mickey ain’t ever gettin’ to do that. Not even over my dead body.” She huffs.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“Shut up and get me home. I’m tired.”

You do end up getting all four of you home in one piece, and for that, Melissa is grateful. She grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder before carefully removing Rosie from her carseat. You do the same with Cat. If you can get the two of them into bed without them waking up, life will be so much easier. 

By some miracle, you do get them into the house and in their rooms without them waking up. You then take your wife’s hand and lead her into the bedroom, only to see that your room is still flipped upside down from when the police had raided.

You groan. You really don’t feel like lifting the heavy safe off your bed and attempting to get it back into the floorboard. You do so though, before crawling into bed yourself. Melissa slides in next to you, turning on her side so that she can get as close to you as possible, resting her head on your chest. 

“When do you think this is all going to be over?” she whispers to you.

You look down to see her face being lit by the moonlight and the one street light that flickers outside of the window overtop your bed. 

You shrug and kiss her temple. “Níl a fhios agam,” you sigh. “Níl a fhios agam.”

She hates that you don’t know. She hates that she doesn’t know either. 

Both of you are usually so in control of everything that happens around you. The last time that you weren’t in control and your worlds were turned upside down is the day that the doctor told you you were carrying twins- and even that level of uncontrollable circumstances stemmed from a choice you had deliberately made.

 Melissa remembers the day that she had broken down in tears, consumed by her worry for you. She was absolutely terrified that there would be complications in the pregnancy because carrying multiples was almost always more dangerous than just a single baby. She was absolutely paranoid that somebody from either family would get you caught up in their own business, and that something would happen to you and the two unborn babies inside of you. The next day, she went to Thursday morning mass and prayed with Barbara for your safety and well-being. The day that you had safely delivered those two beautiful girls of yours and all three of you were healthy was a relief to her. But even then, thoughts of fear lingered.

Melissa also remembers the day when your belly had popped, and it made you a hormonal mess to see that you were actually carrying now. You had cried to her your own fears and doubts of your safety, their safety, that you weren’t quite sure if you were ever meant to be a mother. She remembers the way that you had clung to her in a moment of weakness as you choked out that while having children and becoming a mother was all you had ever wanted since you were little, you couldn’t believe that you were bringing two little ones into this cruel world. She recalls holding you that whole day, assuring you that not a hair on your head would be touched, that your unborn children were going to be safe and more loved than any other children, and that you were absolutely going to be the best mam to your babies. Those thoughts never quite dissipated throughout the months of your pregnancy. But once you had laid your eyes on those little girls squirming and crying on your chest, you knew that she was right- that you were all safe, at least for the time being, and Caterina Ann and Rosalina Marie were going to grow up with more love than they knew what to do with.

But this? The feds were on you for something that you had no part in, and if they continue to dig it’s only a matter of time until you get caught as part of the mafia and the mob. There are too many moving pieces for either of you to say with certainty what’s to happen in the future. There is no safety net or light at the end of the tunnel that you can see. These circumstances were absolutely, one-hundred percent, out of your control. And that? That horrifies Melissa.

You hold your wife tightly to your chest, your hand tracing mindless patterns across her spine to provide what comfort you can. Eventually, you hear her breathing even out into deep and slow breaths as she slips off to sleep. 

Your own eyes trail over the ceiling of your bedroom. What can you do? You're turning the entirety of the situation over in your mind repeatedly, trying to find the answer. You search for even something little to grasp, to control- even if it's just enough to provide some sense of stability and comfort to your wife. You don't really care if you get any; you'll deal with the fears and worries if it means Melissa is content and happy. 

You don't know when you do finally fall asleep. It feels like five minutes is as long as you've slept when you're startling back awake.

“What the fuck?” Melissa is grumbling as she pulls away from your side.

It takes another moment of you blinking sleep from your eyes to process. There's another round of banging at your front door, which must have been what woke you. Your bedroom is still dark, the only light seeping through being the light that radiates off the moon. Miraculously, the banging on the door hasn't woken up the girls, and you thank God for that. If they wake, you truly don’t know what you’d tell them.

It takes a heap of effort but you pull yourself from your bed to trail after your wife. You're just making it to the end of the hall to the living room when she's yanking open the front door in the midst of more knocking.

“Che cazzo fai?” Melissa spits as soon as the door is open. “It's not even five in the fuckin’ mornin’ and I got two kids sleepin’, what's wrong with you? Vai ai cacare!”

“Mrs. Schemmenti.”

You want to groan and bang your head into the wall when you hear Agent Shaw's voice. You're so tired. Somehow Agent Shaw sounds like he's had a full night of perfect rest. You can feel both you and your wife wearing thin. You know it's exactly what they want- to push you to the limit, force a mistake.

You trudge across the floor to stand behind Melissa. By now, your wife has deteriorated to rapid-fire Italian that you know is definitely only anger and insults. Agent Shaw is holding a packet of papers out that she hasn't taken in order to also be speaking with her hands. Usually, you would find her bigger than life and fiery personality and gestures adorable, but now you wish she would just take the papers. You reach past Melissa to take the papers from the agent who has blessed you with a home visit at 4:45 in the morning.

You sigh as you skim read the papers. You want to put your forehead to Melissa's shoulder even if it would jostle you with her gestures. It's a search warrant for her restaurant. You want to but you don't. You don't want Agent Shaw to see you in any more of a weaker state than you’re already showing him, half awake and absolutely exhausted after taking care of your girls. It’s not only a search warrant for Melissa's restaurant, but they're executing on a Friday- one of the busiest days for the business.

You put a hand on Melissa's shoulder in hopes of calming her down, even just slightly. With the amount that she’s cursing and shouting at this man, you’re afraid she’ll either pass out or wake up your girls. Neither option seems like a great one. But she's run out of words to spit at the agent still on your doorstep. The redhead takes a deep breath at the feel of your hand.

“Go,” you say, gathering by now that they need her to let them into the restaurant. “I'll call Sammy and tell him to meet you there. I'll make sure the girls get to school, okay?” you say softly. 

Your hand squeezes her shoulder. You make sure you kiss each of her cheeks before you kiss her lips properly. You hope the affection takes her anger down a notch or two, mostly for Agent Shaw's sake, truly. 

Reluctantly, Melissa is shoving on shoes and pulling a coat over her outfit from yesterday. You'd both been so tired you hadn't even bothered changing before all but crawling into bed. She grumbles about the fashion faux pas as she stomps down your porch to follow Agent Shaw to the car. 

You shut the front door only once you see the black car pull out of your driveway and down the street. Your forehead presses to the wood. “Fuck,” you whisper to no one but yourself. You force yourself to pull away from the front door and lock it once more.

It takes you a minute to track down where you left your phone. You struggle to remember little things of the last couple days. You rub your forehead as you listen to the ringing. Just as it's about to go to voice-mail you hear Sammy's groggy voice answer.

“They're searching Mel’s restaurant,” You sigh in place of pleasantries. “She just left with one of the agents to let them in.”

You don't even get the chance to ask Sammy to meet them there. He's saying he will before he hangs up without saying goodbye. If you were awake you'd have rolled your eyes at him. Except right now, you just appreciate his swift action and hope he can manage your wife and protect her for a few hours until you can get there after you drop the girls off.

You move back down the hall, barely able to lift your feet up from the carpet. You slip into the girls’ room, gently lifting them both from their beds. They don't wake up but curl into each of your shoulders. You carry them back to yours and Melissa's bed, curling up with your little twins like Melissa had the first night you'd been stuck at the station. Except you at least have the blessing of knowledge of where she is and what is wrong. Your eyes are so heavy though, you can't fight sleep even with the worry still filling you. 

tags: @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @dvrkhcld

[sailor-aviator]

Two Birds: Chapter One

Two Birds: Chapter One

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader x Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Summary: Growing up in the midwest meant that you weren't exposed to many of the dangers of the world, and it also meant that you missed out on some of what life had to offer. Taking a leap, you move to New York City with a few personal belongings and the little money you have left in your savings. You become good friends with your roommate and, by extension, the people at the club she works at. However, it isn't long until you catch the eye of not one, but two mafia bosses that rule the city with an iron grip. Will you stay out of their clutches, or will you give in and become another pawn in their wicked games? (Mafia!AU)

Content Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of guilt, Gentlemen's club (off hours), Flirting, Handsy Bradley and Jake, Pet names, no use of y/n. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

A couple of weeks had passed, and you were now entering your third month of living in the city. Annie had been right, you had become fast friends after long nights spent gabbing about anything and everything, and late mornings after the previous night’s binge drinking. Your roommate was a fun, happy-go-lucky soul, and you loved her all the more for it.

Your job at one of the local bakeries near the heart of the city provided you with enough money for your portion of the rent, food, and enough to spend however you saw fit, a feat you still weren’t sure how you managed. Your boss was a lovely older woman in her mid-fifties who greeted you with a smile every morning as you clocked in for your shift. Thankfully, she preferred to do the early, early morning prep work herself along with her daughter, so you weren’t expected to walk through the doors until sometime around eight every morning.

You enjoyed the tediousness of the job, the routine giving you something to latch on to in the unfamiliarity of the big city. Annie had been coaching you diligently on how to navigate the never-ending, concrete streets and sprawling subways. Your Midwest manners were quickly stamped down by your burgeoning experience with the different crowds that inhabited the city.

“Don’t walk around at night by yourself if you can avoid it,” Annie had told you during your first week there, the two of you headed back to the apartment after you had decided to go out for dinner. “There are a bunch of crazies out here, Mousie. Me? I’m used to this place, but you got that air about you that just invites people to take advantage.”

You hummed, trotting a few paces to try and keep up with her much longer legs. She cast you a sideways glance with a grimace of an apology.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad by it,” she sighed, hands pushed into her pockets as she slowed slightly to give you a break. “You’ll perfect the art of the ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe before you know it, Mouse.”

And you liked to think that you had come along way in the few weeks you had spent in the city, perfecting your mean, scary face so that people wouldn’t approach you. Some still did, but the number had certainly decreased. Though, you still felt the nagging feeling of guilt every time you outright ignored someone, averting your eyes and hanging your head as you walked a little faster down the street.

Today was a day you, thankfully, had off. Though, you still rose early, your body already used to the schedule of the bakery, and as you stretched in bed, your mind wandered to the container of chocolate chip cookies that sat on the counter in the kitchen. A gift from your boss, albeit they were cookies that would have been thrown in the trash anyway due to their age of only two days.

You lay in bed for the next half hour, dozing as the light of the day streamed in past your curtains, illuminating your still plainly decorated room. Annie had offered to take you shopping for more decor, but you had insisted on earning your own money and paying for your own decor.

“It’s not like I don’t have the extra cash, babe,” she told you, lips pulled back into a grimace as she watched you flit about the apartment.

“I’m serious, Annie,” you told her, glancing over your shoulder at her as you set the mop to the side. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness either.”

“How is it taking advantage if I’m offering?” She muttered with a scoff. You had shot her a warning look before placing your hands on your hips.

“I need to prove to myself that I can do this,” you sighed, feeling your shoulders slump.

“Alright, alright,” she relented, giving you an understanding smile. “But if I give you gifts, you have to accept them. It’s a law or something.”

You smiled fondly at the memory, pulling a pillow close to your chest, one of Annie’s many “gifts” as she called them. Your eyes flickered open with a stifled yawn before you lazily rolled over on to your feet. You padded out the door and down the hall to your shared bathroom, Annie’s soft snores filtering out past her closed door. Her job often kept her up until the early morning hours, and there were days where you were headed off to work just as she was walking through the door.

You brushed your teeth and got ready for the rest of the day, settling on a pair of faded jeans, a plain, white t-shirt underneath a beige cardigan and a pair of simple sneakers. You didn’t have much planned for the day, but you had been meaning to check out one of the bookstores downtown. Your groceries were getting low too, and you knew you’d have to go and get more soon, adding a trip to the grocery store to your list of things to do that day. You settled on the couch with a cup of tea, inhaling the aromatic steam that wafted up towards you as you turned on the TV, the news popping up to greet you. A string of violent crimes plagued the city, but you had slowly become accustomed to that news as well during your time there.

Eventually, you grew bored with the news, choosing instead to turn on the latest crime documentary from Netflix, the serious tones of the detectives and witnesses filling the quiet, morning air and lulling you back to a place somewhere between sleep and awake.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when the sound of Annie’s door opening jolted you awake. You blinked, shuffling to sit up on the couch just as she trudged through the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes and looking around blearily.

“Wha’ time’s it?” She asked, voice thick with sleep as she rubbed her face. Her hair was sticking up every which way, her eyes still ringed with the tinges of last night’s makeup. You knew she must have had a particularly late night.

“Uh,” you started, glancing at the clock above the stove, “just before noon.”

“Shit!” She hollered out, eyes growing wide and panicked as she turned to sprint back into her room. You heard a commotion from her room before footsteps sounded in the hall, leading to the bathroom where the shower creaked to life, the spray hitting the tub. You sighed, hoisting yourself up off the couch to rinse your mug out in the sink. The shower didn’t run long, and soon you heard the creak of the valves turning off, soft thuds and movement coming from behind the door. Annie burst out, drying her hair furiously as she padded into her room wearing nothing but the small towel wrapped around her.

“Cannot believe I overslept,” she griped, her door closed just enough to provide herself some privacy as you waited in the kitchen.

“It’s a bit early for you to head down to the club, isn’t it?” You asked, brow furrowing. Usually, Annie didn’t head in for another couple of hours, and you heard her let out a huff as she appeared back in the kitchen dressed in a pair of jeans, fitted black top and matching heels. Even running late, she still looked immaculate.

“Bosses want us there extra early today to try out some new routines,” she explained.

“Bosses?” You frowned. “I thought your boss was Reuben?”

“He is,” she assured you, digging through her purse to make sure her keys were still inside. “But the big bosses are coming in today.”

“Who are the big bosses?” You asked, leaning over the counter. She paused, pressing her lips firmly together before giving you an uncertain look.

“No one you wanna get involved with, Mousie,” she said finally. “I mean, they’re nice enough guys, but…”

She trailed off, and the implication wasn’t lost on you. You offered her a tight smile, glancing at the stovetop clock once more before waving her off.

“You better get going before you’re even more late,” you warned, nodding to the time. She cursed again, shouting a quick “thanks” over her shoulder as she sped out the apartment, the door slamming closed behind her. You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes affectionately after her before grimacing at the apartment. Perhaps you would make it to that bookstore another time. For now, you settled on grabbing your own purse to go grocery shopping.

You had just made it back into the apartment when your phone buzzed. You settled the bags on top of the counter, your fingers aching with the strain of the multitude of bags before fishing your phone out of your bag. Annie’s name flashed across the top, and you quickly unlocked your phone before your eyes landed on the all too familiar words.

I forgot something at the apartment.

Could you grab it for me and bring it by the club pretty please? :(

You huffed out a laugh, typing out a quick response to let her know that of course you would bring whatever it was she forgot to the club for her.

You’re the best! Came her even quicker reply, and you just knew she had been pacing nervously backstage, biting her fingers in that terrible habit she had when she was nervous.

It’s a pair of silver heels and a hot pink boa. They should be on my desk chair. You can’t miss them!

You shook your head, noting how she herself missed them in her rush out the door this morning, but dutifully made your way to her room, pushing the door open as you stepped inside. Sure enough, the heels and the boa lay draped on top of the chair in question, and you quickly gathered them up in your arms to bring back into the kitchen. You grabbed your phone, firing off a quick reply.

I’ve gotta put groceries up really quick, but then I’ll head over. Give me about an hour?

Anything for you, Mouse! I owe you!

You laughed outright at that. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for your roommate, and you often found yourself making the trip down to the club to bring her something she forgot. You set your phone down and made fairly quick work of the groceries, storing the bags underneath the sink for later use. You grabbed your things before grabbing the heels and the boa, pausing to grab the box of cookies that still sat on the counter before making your way out the door and locking it behind you.

It was about a twenty-minute train ride to the neighborhood where Annie worked, and you exited the subway with a squint as your eyes readjusted to the daylight. You walked a block south, coming upon the familiar, unassuming building with a sign that read “Mach 10” in a deep red scrawl across the top of the entrance. A man dressed in all black stood by the door, his face mean and intimidating with eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. You grinned up at him as you approached, and a hint of a smile pulled on his lips as he caught sight of you.

“Hey Tony,” you greeted, wiggling your fingers with the hand that held the heels and the boa. “How’s your day been?”

“It’s better now that you’re here, Mouse,” he chuckled, relaxing his posture somewhat. “I take it Annie forgot something again?”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, rolling your eyes playfully. “Name a time she hasn’t, you know?”

He laughed at that, his head resting against the brick of the building as he rolled his shoulders out.

“She used to tear out of here like a bat from hell before you came to town, ya know,” he grinned. “Wonder what she’s gonna do when you’re not around anymore to spoil her like this.”

“Well,” you started, “hopefully that won’t be for a while yet. Now, do you want a cookie before the others eat them all?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he laughed, pushing off from the side of the building to peek into the box you held in your hand. He grabbed one, taking a bite and humming as you walked past him and into the building.

When you had first found yourself stepping into Annie’s work, you had been apprehensive, expecting a seedy, little hole in the wall with sticky floors and tacky decor. Instead, you were greeted with a clean, sultry business that Annie told you had earned a reputation of being the best in the city.

“It’s actually pretty classy,” she had told you when you first asked her about what she did for a living. “It’s a lot of high end clients that frequent there, and they tip pretty well too. It’s decent pay to begin with and the manager is a pretty good guy too.”

You had met Reuben on one of your first trips to the club, the handsome man not being at all what you expected from a manager. He was young, for one thing, hovering somewhere between mid-thirties and forty if you had to guess. He was dressed to the nines every time you saw him, a friendly smile always on his face as he greeted you. He was nowhere to be seen now as you strolled into the Hard Dark, voices filtering out from different areas of the large room and from backstage as your eyes swept the area.

There were no windows, the only lights coming from the artificial ones that hung overhead. The main color was black, a red carpet curving across the floor and red drapes hanging from off the walls with gold accents placed everywhere. It gave a feeling of old Hollywood, almost.

“There you are!”

You turned just as Annie rushed over to you, pulling you in for a tight hug. She pulled away, grabbing her heels and boa from you.

“You’re a lifesaver, Mousie!” She beamed, and you waved her off.

“I wasn’t doing much anyway,” you told her, shifting the box of cookies into your now free hand. “I brought the cookies too for everyone.”

“You’re so sweet, babe. Come hang out with us for a while,” she cooed, pulling you further towards the main stage. Familiar faces of the different staff greeted you as you walked through, several waving and others following you once they spotted the bright pink box in your hands. You often brought goodies from the bakery, making you an instant hit with the employees at the club.

“What did you bring for us today, Mouse?” Bryan, one of the bartenders called.

“Cookies!” You called back with a smile.

“You’re such a godsend, hun,” said Lindsey, one of the other dancers. “I never have time to go to this place before it closes.”

“One of the perks of being roomies with an employee there,” Annie grinned at her, swiping a cookie as you set the box down on the stage and opened the lid. Several others clambered toward the stage to snag a cookie before retreating and allowing the next wave in. You were so caught up in the conversations happening around you that you didn’t notice the figure come out from the back.

“What’s going on here?” A deep timber asked. You noticed Annie stiffen visibly beside you before turning your head to look at the newcomer. He was tall, brown hair curled against his forehead that pointed towards a pair of golden brown eyes. Scars littered the golden skin of his face, and you couldn’t help but notice the strong muscles that lay hidden beneath his dress shirt. Your lips twitched at the sight of the mustache that hung above his upper lip, but you quickly tamped it down as you took in the nervous faces around you. He swaggered over towards where you stood, the small crowd parting easily for him, and you had to tilt your head back just to meet his gaze.

“Shouldn’t you all be working?” He pointed out. His voice was light, playful even, but the underlying warning in his tone was palpable, and all but Annie and yourself hastened to get away. You swallowed slightly, shifting uneasily at the change in the atmosphere. Annie stood still next to you, not saying a word which was unlike her.

“And who might you be?” He asked, leaning against the stage with a smirk. “Think I would have remembered a pretty face like yours. You lookin’ for a job, hm?”

“She’s my roommate,” Annie replied before you could say anything. “She’s just stopping by to drop off a few things I forgot is all.”

“Is that so?” The man hummed, peeling his eyes away from you long enough to cast her an unreadable look before they shifted back to you. “So you’re the little mouse Reuben mentioned pops by from time to time, huh?”

“I guess,” you muttered, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt as you looked anywhere but at him. You felt his smirk grow as he leaned into you, his nose almost brushing yours in the process. You squeaked at the sudden proximity, eyes widening as the smell of his cologne encircled you, the scent of sandalwood, vanilla, and something woodsy ensnaring you as he spoke.

“My name’s Bradley, Mouse,” he murmured, lips curling into a sultry smile as he laced a finger through the loop of your jeans. “You gonna give me a taste?”

You had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t talking about the cookies that still sat on the stage. Without thinking, you grabbed the box, bringing it between you and Bradley, putting some distance between the two of you enough so that you could try to scramble for a coherent thought.

“Here,” you squeaked. Bradley looked stunned for a second, brown eyes wide as he looked from you, down towards the box. There was a moment of still silence before he tossed his head back with a loud laugh, one that caused several people nearby to jump. He looked back at you with a wicked grin, taking the box from your hand and putting it back on the stage with an added chuckle. He grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him and bringing a hand up to cradle your face as he leaned down, his breath fanning over you.

“I might just have to keep you, honey,” he purred, eyes hooded as he drank you in. Your face warmed at the combination of his words and his hand around your waist that slowly started to wander.

“What are you doing, Rooster?”

You jumped at the new voice, turning your head with a gasp as your eyes landed on the stranger standing next to Reuben. His square jaw was clenched in what you could only assume was annoyance, narrowed, green eyes moving from Bradley down to you. His face softened slightly, brow arching as he took you in. You thought you saw his lips twitch in the hint of a smirk before neutrality settled over his features once more.

“Hey, Mouse!” Reuben greeted, his friendly demeanor almost unnerving. He acted as if you weren’t being held captive in the arms of a strange man, instead looking from you towards where Annie stood behind you. “I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”

“Annie forgot something,” you offered weakly, breath still ragged from how close Bradley still held you.

“Rooster,” the blond man spoke up, his voice commanding attention, “you’re scaring the poor thing. Why don’t you let her go?”

Bradley grunted but let you go slowly, shooting you a wink as you backed up a couple of steps. The blond man stepped forward, hands shoved into the pockets of his expensive looking pants as a slow smirk crawled onto his lips.

“So you’re the little mouse we’ve heard so much about,” he drawled, stopping just in front of you. You shrugged, not saying anything as you averted your gaze. The man arched a brow at you, taking a hand out of his pocket to place a finger underneath your chin, lifting it so that you met his emerald gaze.

“Words, darlin’,” he purred, something twinkling in his gaze as you looked at him. You swallowed thickly.

“Yes,” you replied, earning a hum. The man’s finger traced along your jaw before his hand cupped the side of your neck gently, almost possessively.

“Good girl,” he praised, and something inside of you unexpectedly preened at the words. He leaned forward, the smell of patchouli and a hint of citrus hitting your nose at the movement. His lips brushed against your ear as he murmured, “my name is Jake.”

A shiver ran up your spine, and you felt his lips curl into a grin at your reaction.

“Shouldn’t we be getting back to business?” Bradley snapped, looking put out as Jake withdrew from you. The blond snorted with a roll of his eyes as he stepped back towards his companions.

“Since when do you give a shit?” He asked, the challenge hollow as he kept walking, Reuben quick to fall in line behind him. Bradley frowned as he watched Jake walk past, a muscle twitching in his jaw. His eyes looked back at you, lips curving in a thoughtful smile before shooting you a wink and following his two companions.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, Annie coming up behind you quickly.

“I am so sorry,” she cried, blue eyes big and sorrowful.

“Why are you sorry?” You asked with a snort, brushing your hands down your rumpled shirt. “They’re the ones who’ve never heard of personal space, apparently.”

“Babe, do you not realize who they are?” She asked, brow furrowing as she studied you, lips pursing as she shook her head.

“Of course you don’t,” she muttered, placing a hand on her forehead as she sucked in a breath. “God, I’m so fucking stupid sometimes. How could I forget to tell you one of the most basic things?”

“Annie, what are you talking about?” You asked, crossing your arms as a sinking feeling came over you. Her eyes snapped open as she looked at you with an uncharacteristically solemn expression.

“There’s a lot more to this city than you realize,” she told you. “There are groups always grabbing for power and control of it, and right now there are two who are going head to head: the Daggers and the Harpies. You just met the two men who are in charge of the Dagger syndicate, Mouse: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin and Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw. ”

Your heart sank, and your head involuntarily whipped around towards where the group of men walked off to. You spotted them sitting in one of the booths, Reuben talking animatedly about something or other, but your stomach did a flip as you realized that both Jake and Bradley were already looking at you. The blond arched a brow at you while the brunette waggled his fingers at you with a playful smirk. Annie followed your gaze, sighing before continuing.

“And it looks like you’ve gone and caught their eye.”

A/N: Thought we might take a quick break from talking about Angel!Jake and go back to Mafia!Jake and Mafia!Bradley, and they're finally here! What do we think of them from our first meeting? As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to receive updates on when I post, please follow my sideblog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒏𝒐 𝒇𝒖𝒓𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅

I'm already deciding on part 3, so don't bother asking for it! do feel free to send in suggestions, characters for her to end up with, etc.

find part 1 here.

summary - after your breakup with steve, you change, no longer wanting to deal with your emotions. after months of your team not hearing from or seeing you, they decide to track you down.

warning - angst, death.

the gif and header I use aren't mine.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The Avengers were worried. Your friends and family were concerned. Hell, even your asshole of an ex was worried. It has been months since anyone had seen or heard from you, not since the day of the gathering. The house you and Steve used to live in was burnt to a crisp. Nothing was left. You had just disappeared. Steve ended up getting a couple of bruises and some broken bones that healed from your friends. They knew he was the reason for this.

You stood there, covered in blood and surrounded by dead bodies. You had been minding your own business, wanting to grab some food and return to your cabin, but these men. Oh, these men. Why did they have to think they were better than you? Why couldn’t they have minded their own business and left you alone? Was their entire species built on invading a woman’s life? Could they not just fuck off. You were so annoyed, looking around at the pathetic beings that lay bloody and lifeless. “Men.” You growl quietly before bending down to grab your bags full of food and return to where you call home. You guess this could be a time to think about everything you have done and that has happened. 

Sure, burning your house down was probably a bit over the top. But you wanted to get rid of the memory of Steve, and that was the only thing you could think of at the time. Some may call you childish or crazy for how you dealt with your emotions, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care anymore. You had spent years in a relationship with a man who was stuck in the past, who had thought you were only meant to cook, clean and bear his children. Steve didn’t really love you, he just wanted to use you, and it took him behaving like a child and throwing a tantrum for you to see he wasn’t meant for you.

It doesn’t mean you can’t have a little fun. In the end, you did love him. He did have a piece of your heart. The woman inside of you was grieving and hurting. She begged you to forgive him, make him see you were meant for him. But you were stronger than her. You know that no man could ever treat you like that. You know he wasn’t right for you, and you were on a war path. You groaned as you walked up the stairs and onto your porch. Making your way into your house, you walk past everything and to the kitchen, where you place the bags down. “Hello, people who do not live here.” You hum, facing your old team members, who look shocked as you are covered in blood. 

“Y/n?” Nat steps forward, looking you up and down, trying to determine if the blood is yours. You nod, digging into the bag and pulling out your food. You reach over and grab a fork as you begin to dig in. 

“That’s my name.” You give a sarcastic smile, chewing on your food. Your eyes move over everyone before focusing on your ex. “What’s he doing here? I thought you were too busy finding someone else to put up with your shit? Ya know…” You jump up onto the counter, swinging your legs as you glare. “Someone who would make a better mother than I would.” You smile before stuffing more food into your mouth, humming at its taste. 

Tony tilts his head, making his way over to you, unafraid. “You’ve changed.” His eyes move over your face, and yours connect with him. He smiles. “I like it.” He pulls you into a hug, “I missed you, kid.” You smile, patting his back.

“Missed you too, dumbass.” He pulls back, and the rest of the Avengers make their way over to hug you, letting you know how much they’ve missed you and how worried they’ve been. “So… Whatcha doing here? I won’t ask how you found me because that’d be a stupid question.” 

“As we said, we were worried.” Nat tilts her head, “were you attacked?” You shrug, chewing your food more. “Y/n?”

“Sorta, I guess? I don’t know. Men don’t know how to mind their business.” Your focus moves to the container in your hand, barely noticing the looks they give each other. “Yes, I killed them, and it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?! You murdered people! See, this is why I said what I said.” Steve growls, staring you down as he tries to make you uncomfortable. 

“What is it, asshole day?” You groan, tilting your head back as you feel a headache form. “Yes, Steven. I murdered people, and again, you’ve stated I wouldn’t be a good mother. How about you get over that?” You hum, shovelling more food into your mouth as you stare at him without emotion. You point your fork at him. “Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you're the problem? Maybe you're the one who wouldn’t make a good parent? I mean, let’s face it, you have issues. You can’t even keep anything good in your life, and when you do find something good, you try and destroy it because you are so self-absorbed.” You roll your eyes, ignoring how some team members chuckle as you tear the retired Captain a new one. “You think you're better than any of us? You’ve killed, too. You’ve done worse. So what if I did the world a favour and took out some pathetic men? What are you going to do? What is worse than you ripping my heart out like I meant nothing to you?” You place the food down, hop off the counter and approach him with a glare. 

And the dumbass decides to open his mouth. “Well, if you want my opinion–” 

“I don’t.” Your glare hardens, jaw clenching as you stop yourself from killing him, especially in front of your friends and family. “I have my own.” Everyone’s breath hitches when you step closer to the towering man. “Now, if you don’t mind. I don’t want trash in my house, so I suggest you find the door before I set you on fire.” You growl lowly, sending shivers up everyone’s spines before you turn and go into your bathroom, needing to get the blood of the useless off of you. 

Once you finish showering and changing into comfier clothes, you return and stop when you notice everyone bar one, still here. “Oh, you guys didn’t leave?” You look over and see Wanda preparing a feast in your kitchen while everyone else makes themselves at home around your cabin. You look around to make sure Steve isn’t hiding around a corner. “Huh, I guess trash does know how to take itself out.” Your head turns as you hear Tony laugh, nearly falling out of his seat.

“Oh, kid. You don’t know how much I missed you and your sarcasm.” He sips the very expensive whiskey that you may or may not have stolen from him. “Morgan’s missed you too, especially how you’d teach her your sarcastic ways.” You smile softly, accepting a glass from Natasha as she walks up to you. 

“I’ve missed her too. I’m sorry for not rushing over when she got hurt.” You take a sip, leaning into Natasha as she wraps an arm around you. 

Tony shrugs. “It’s not your fault. Don’t apologise. She had help plus. She isn’t even your kid. You shouldn’t have to apologise for not rushing to someone else’s kid.” He rubs his forehead, “It’s not your job to do that. Sure, when you are on the field. I get it because that’s our job.” Tony points at you. “Don’t let Captain tightass get to you. You’d be a wonderful mother.” 

You smile, “Thanks, Tony. Always one for wise words.” You smile when Wanda comes around and kisses your cheek softly, mentioning that dinner’s ready. You all head over to the table and sit down, feeling a pair of eyes on you. You turn and notice Bucky staring at you with a soft smile. “What’s up, Buck?” 

He shakes his head, “nothing. I just want you to know that I tried talking some sense into him, and when he didn’t listen and we found out the truth of your disappearance, we kicked his ass.” You giggle, shaking your head at the image. Bucky flashes a proud smile at making you laugh. He’s happy you’re smiling and loves his best friend, but Steve didn’t deserve someone like you. You deserved the world, and he knew the rest of the team was thinking it.

“Thank you, you guys didn’t have to do that. I know you’ve known him longer than you’ve known me, but I appreciate the love you’ve shown me.” You thank them, feeling loved even though deep down you feel broken. Once dinner was over, they said their goodbyes and left, promising that they’ll come and see you again. You were left alone once again. Left in your thoughts as the broken woman inside you pounded against your heart, she wanted out. She wanted to cry and grieve the relationship you once had. But anger was better than tears, better than grief, better than guilt. You walked into your bathroom and stared at yourself in the mirror. The person staring back at you wasn’t who Steve had left. She was different. “How could you have been so stupid?” You spoke to her, watching her mouth move like yours did. “Why did you fall for him?! Why did you give your heart over?!” You screamed, your fist flying forward and shattering the glass. 

You were better off alone. Maybe one day you could open your heart again, and maybe one day you’ll find the person right for you. But right now, you needed to find yourself, find the woman you were without him. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

part 3

[honestsycrets]

omggg I would love to request a "are you really so oblivious?" with Miguel

❛ summary | you're not picking up on any of the signs Miguel is throwing. he's is desperate enough to ask your pupil pavitr for help.

❛ sy's notes | as requested! i will post dad!miguel drabble on wednesday.

❛ sy's tags | pupil pavitr, pavitr being a helpful bug, some anger, some violence, mostly just minor angst and some cuteness.

“She's pretty, no?" Pavitr sings, "You could just assssk her. ”

Miguel doesn’t know why he’s here. He doesn't know why he's still trying after the trainwreck that was February. He also doesn’t know why the kid insists that 'help' is bombing his dates just to whisper in his ear. Dates that he feels are dates but you don’t know are dates.

That's what happens when you want a woman who hasn't dated in years.

It’s not enough that he’s stuffed himself into clothes that he doesn’t like, like the black button-up that is a size too small, because that’s the largest size he could find. He leaves a button or two exposed because as Pavitr says, you love to comment on how soft he looks with just a little skin. He has to be soft, too.

As if being soft was ever a good thing for Miguel. It never failed. He gets soft, his life goes complete and utter shit. You’re nibbling a hunk of roti between your thumb and index finger, grinning behind your fingers. You might have heard it, but like many things, you’re not connecting the dots. You never connect the fucking dots.

“Hm, new girlfriend, Pav?”

“Me?” he peeped, his grin ear to ear. “No! Bhaiya has his eye on a girl. A pretty girl.”

The loud cafe was full of beautiful women with thick bangles, kohl-lined eyes, and playful smiles. They spoke about all kinds of things: family life, relationships, friendships, and school. Of every woman here, he finds himself aching to know what goes on behind your eyes, almost troubled with what Pavitr was saying.

“Mi Miguel?” you tilt your head, a set of your gilded earrings clinking as you moved. Pavitr suggested you dress up on purpose-- Despite the power that courses through his upper body, Miguel feels weak. "Not my Miguel."

My Miguel-- Mi Miguel, both sound gorgeous when they come your lips. He could get used to it.

“See, she said ‘mi’, that’s your chance,” he’s whispering in Miguel’s ear. He pinches his brow, rolling the skin between his fingertips. Whatever chance Pavitr thinks he has is slipping away. Miguel can’t be bothered to stop it. This kid can't possibly know how you feel.

“You have to be talking about someone else. All those Spiders in HQ and yet Miguel never goes after them, not one. Mira-- Pav. On San Valentín Miguel gave me flowers, rosas. Of all the girls!”

Fuck. Pav blinked, his gaze following Miguel in his seat. He doesn’t address his humiliation, just lets you chew on it. He closes his eyes, wishing that he could forget that awkward day. It was pathetic, the way he called you into his lab, a bundle of roses in his arms. Just for a kiss on the cheek that proceeded to torment him the rest of the month. Aw, how cute, Miggy.

All that... just to be called cute.

"Maybe he likes you! Did you get him anything?" Pav is trying here, but you’re not picking up on anything that he’s laying down. You laughed it off, awkward as you were.

“Me? No, Miguel-- he doesn't like me,” you clean your hands and lean in your chair. Your sultry eyes fall on Miguel, bidding him to lower his hand from his eyes. He catches your gaze as you ask, "Do you, Miggy?"

"No. You're making assumptions."

Your eyes scan Miguel over, searching for some sort of fault in Miguel's face. Solemn, playing as amused. You don't find any in his hard gaze. You come to the antithesis of what he meant, assuming that he was talking to Pavitr rather than you. Your gaze hardens, shutting him out from the depths of your emotions. Then, your mood turns. It's not like you.

“See? The day Miguel finds a woman is the day I'll find a man." You reach for your tea, lips churning in a frown. " Pero, since he has someone, I should start looking in Nueva York, hm?”

Pavitr grimaces.

“Damn it!” Miguel bites out. His hand slams on the flimsy table, snapping it in two. Your tea spills over your gold dress as Pavitr and you lurch to stabilize it. It didn’t help that there were countless sets of warm eyes boring at Miguel as he stormed through the tiny entrance of the shop to avoid more damage to the poor owner’s store.

Why did he try? He was entirely sick of it. Sick of trying to show how much damn work he was doing to get you to understand how he felt. Pavitr had not helped at all. If anything, he made it worse. At least before-- you weren't looking for someone. When you were alone, just with him, it could be the two of you. No one else mattered. Miguel regrets stomaching his pride just to ask the boy for help. What was he thinking-- asking a teenager about adult issues?

“Miggy!”

He hears your voice but dips into the busy crowd. He sticking out like a sore thumb with his excessive muscle tone and your quick steps, quicker with your spider abilities. If you were anyone else, he would have cut you out of his life. Instead, he’s just a bug stuck in your spider web.

You snatched his watch-clad wrist, whirling him around. He can’t fight your touch, he longs for it, craves it more than he’s craved anything in the past few months. You shove him into a shadowy alleyway. His back connects with the wall, head shifting to the sea of saris and rich color. He isn’t looking at you.

“Miguel O’Hara, look at me.”

“Go find that man you want so much,” he bit out, the words scratching out of his throat as if they had barbs.

“¿Qué? Miguel, you’re-- dios mío. Why are you acting so angry? You didn't want me!”

“Of course, I want you! But you are-- are you really so oblivious?” he shouted, his fist connecting with the wall beside him, A crater forms around his massive hand, shaking loose dust from the building. "Nothing I do is enough."

"Stop," you grasp his hand, bringing them to your hand for a slight kiss. His heart rips into his chest, suddenly unable to tear his eye away from the red stain of lipstick over his knuckles. His irritation cools like cold water meeting a roiling boil, tracking how you shift his large palm to your cheek.

“Perdóname. I thought--” you find yourself mumbling, “You… How could you like me?”

He watches your hand fall away from his, maintaining a hold on your cheek. Even now, he finds you beautiful, soaked in chai all over your gilded gown. He knows why you can’t understand. Since he’s known you, you rarely had a man pursue you because as a girlfriend. Aside from your shapely body, you were the sort of woman men didn’t usually pursue. He knows you don’t like his shouting, it shows in the way your eyes dart to the pebbles under his boots. He tapers down his tone.

“I just do.” He sets a small kiss on your forehead, his hand slipping around to collar your nape. Your fingers turn over his tawny exposed chest, almost shyly so. You could bring him to his knees touching him like that, a gentleness that he’s only longed for since he first fell for you. You’re so close-- yet, nothing is solidified. It could slip away. “¿Y tú?”

“I-- I do, I do too.”

Your cheeks flush. Moreso when he spots Pavitr peeking around the corner, gazing at his thumb stroking your cheek with the most aggravating smile ruptured across his face. Miguel releases a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, his tone becoming sharp, nearly heartless in the way he says them.

“Soooo, do you... need any more help, Bhaiya?”

“I think we can take it from here, Pav. Thank you for helping me.”

Helping you? Miguel snaps down to look at you. You gaze back into Miguel’s confused eyes with the warmth that he needs at that moment. Pavitr’s picking-- about asking you out, teasing him when you said you’d find someone else-- suddenly makes complete sense. Pav slides away, grinning like the idiot Miguel feels he is.

“What do you mean-- Helping you?”

“Well,” you smiled. “Miggy. He’s my kid. You couldn’t have really thought he’d help you.”

“No. Apparently not."