#anyway even for stuff that's completely for safety?

[servantleverslutdrop]

Always so alien to me that people feel an inherent shame in stealing or lying, divorced from any actual harm the action may or may not be causing

[forestgreenlesbian]

.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Summary: It's time to move on. You're not sure where you're going exactly, but anywhere is better than Texas

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,816 words

Warnings: ANGST, injuries, medical stuff, descriptions of pain and injuries, brief discussion about strangulation, mentions of PTSD and nightmares, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, a very little sprinkle of comfort, language, mentions of medications, still very heavy emotionally

A/N: Not actually a lot of warnings for this one. It's a lot of dialogue and inner monologues. Not a lot happens, just mostly setting the scene for the next chunk of the story. Bring tissues though, the last part of the chapter emotionally wrecked me but also might be the best thing I've ever written.

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It’s warm outside. 

Not even the shade from the building can completely shield you from the dome of heat that seems to surround the base. It seeps into the concrete and asphalt that lock it into place, trapping everyone in a bubble that may as well be an oven. It’s always hot in Texas, though. You hate it. You’ve been spoiled by the cold, rainy seasons in England. You’d gladly take that over Texas. 

You’d take anything over Texas. 

The heat prickles at your skin, your arm starting to get sweaty in the sling. It had been Dr. Keller’s idea to keep your shoulder as still as possible so you don’t continue to cause yourself pain when you move. It still hurts, but at least you won’t instinctively try to use your left arm now.

Despite the warmth, there’s still a chill deep in your bones. The warmth of the pain medicine has worn off and you’ve been left with the perpetual ice that has seemed to coat your insides. Dr. Keller says it's the stress giving you a fever. Every nightmare, every flashback sends your body temperature spiking, your heart beating right out of your chest. You’re not out of the woods yet. It can take a long time to recover from that level of distress and the omega taking over. You almost regret it, but there was no guarantee you would have lived either way at that time. You did what you had to do, and it did work out in the end. 

But at what cost? 

Dr. Keller’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, staring down at the screen for a moment. “Kyle wants to come by.” 

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to see any of them. 

“I think you should see him. Even if it’s just for a moment.” She squeezes your hand. “I’ll be right here.” 

It’s a predicament. Dr. Keller supports your decision to keep them away, putting some distance between all of you for the time being. Yet, she also says being close to your pack will help your healing. Having your pack around will help your omega settle once again. She needs that safety, that security before she finally lets go completely. 

You don’t want to be close to them, but you may not have any other choice. 

You sit there in silence, picking at the fabric of your sweatpants as you wait for Kyle’s arrival. Sweat has started to bead on your back, the day only getting warmer and warmer as the sun moves higher in the sky. You want to go back inside, back into the cool air conditioned building. You want to crawl back onto the hospital bed and lay there for the next few hours. 

You can’t. 

Footsteps approach, but you don’t look up. You know who it is. You don’t want to see him. 

“Kyle.” Dr. Keller greets. 

“Christine.” He says back. It still throws you off, hearing Dr. Keller's first name. She'll always be Dr. Keller to you. Kyle turns his attention to you, still standing a few steps from the bench you're perched on. “Hi, love.” He says. The affectionate nickname almost makes you wince. You don't look up at him. You don’t want to see his face. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.” 

You don't move, don't give an answer. You don't have an answer to give anyway. You shouldn't have to give an answer. 

He lowers himself onto the bench, sitting as far away from you as he can. “It’s hot today.” He says, adjusting his hat. Always wearing a hat. Maybe that's why he and Price work so well together. 

He stares at you for a long moment but you don't bother moving, your gaze still on your sweatpants. They're starting to get a bit warm, even with your perpetual chill. 

“I’m not here to apologize.” He says, breaking the silence. “You’ve probably heard enough apologies to last you a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “Words can’t fix what we did. Nothing can fix what we did, how we left you there. All we can do is give you what you need, try and make you as comfortable as possible.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him. He's not wrong, an apology won't fix what happened. No words will ever be able to fix what they put you through. You're not sure there's anything they could do that would make up for it. An apology still would have been nice, despite the fact you know how guilty he is. Their avoidance of you, their willingness to give you such space in an unknown place just proves how guilty they all are. 

That doesn't make things hurt any less. 

You slowly turn away from Kyle, angling yourself towards Dr. Keller. 

He doesn't say anything further in that regard, taking your movement as an answer to his non-apology. He leans forward instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave soon. We’ll be heading somewhere safe, somewhere quiet and secluded. I think you’ll like it.” 

Dr. Keller had informed you of that earlier after she went to speak to them. They've decided what to do, what's best for the pack again. You might have protested, except for the fact it meant you were getting to leave Texas. Where exactly they're taking you, you're not sure. You just know it's not Texas. 

“I want you to know that we’re here if you need us.” He stares at you for a moment longer before pushing himself up to stand. 

If, not when. 

Maybe they're finally getting the message. 

Dr. Keller stands, touching your right shoulder gently before she steps away with Kyle, speaking quietly with him, but you can still hear every word in the nearly silent space around you. 

“In an attempt to remain a neutral, professional party in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate for me to tell you not to beat yourself up too much about this.” Dr. Keller says. “The unprofessional side of me has many words I’d like to say to all of you.” She clears her throat. “That being said, on a positive note I can say you’re all doing the right thing for once, prioritizing your omega and fulfilling her needs, even if her needs require you to leave her alone for now. I know it’s hard, I know every instinct is screaming at you to help her, but just take comfort in knowing you are helping her. You’re doing the best thing you can do for her at this time.” Dr. Keller puts a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “Even if it is tearing you up inside.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” He says. 

“I’ll see you soon.” She says, patting his arm before she heads back towards your bench. 

You turn your head just slightly, not missing the way Gaz lingers for a brief moment before he turns his back on you, walking back down the sidewalk. 

It hurts. 

You want to cry with every swallow. No matter how much you chew, it doesn’t ease the pain of trying to swallow solid food. Even the worst sore throat you’ve ever had pales in comparison to this pain. Tears burn in your eyes as you eat, unable to refuse this time in favor of choking down some liquid nutrients. Even liquids make your throat ache, but they are easy to chug to get it over with at once. 

This feels like torture. 

Dr. Keller looks guilty as she spoon-feeds you the soup. Chicken noodle, something simple and easy but still something with some substance. It makes you think back to when you were sick as a child, your mother dutifully feeding you homemade chicken noodle soup until you reached the age you could feed yourself. 

You do feel like a child again, unable to even hold the spoon. Well, you could hold it, but it would have come at the expense of some burns from how badly your hand was shaking. 

So instead you sit here, being spoon-fed soup you can barely stand eating. 

“I know.” She says as a tear finally falls, your inhale shaky from the ache in your throat. “You need something in your system for the sedative. It’s a long flight and you’ll be sick when you wake up if you don’t have anything in your stomach. That’s going to hurt a lot worse than eating now.” 

Yeah. You’ve already figured that out. 

“Strangulation is a tough thing to survive.” She says, dragging the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl to wipe off any soup that might drip on you. “Then again, so is getting shot, and distressing to the point of your omega taking over.” She holds the spoon up to your lips, and you’re tempted to refuse. “You’ve survived a lot, more than most could. And to look this good after...” 

You blink up at her, teary eyed and sickly looking, exhausted and bruised. Your left eye is still almost swollen shut, and your hair is tangled perhaps beyond saving, tied up in a bun at the top of your head. All just reminders of what you survived, all reminders of what happened to you. Of what was allowed to happen to you. 

You’re not quite sure when the last time you had a real shower was either. 

“I know.” She says, spooning more soup into your mouth. “You might not feel like it, right now.” 

“I want a shower.” You say, your voice still hoarse and cracking through your throat. A real shower might solve a lot of problems for you right now. It won’t fix much, but being truly clean would make a lot of things feel better. 

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Dr. Keller says. 

You give her a look. You don't smell that bad. She should know, she’s the one that cleaned the blood off of you and the one who gave you the sponge bath this morning. 

She gives you a look back. “I meant it would be nice to take a real shower. Once we get where we’re going, we can work on the logistics of a shower.” 

Right. You can’t exactly stand for a long time on your own, not to mention the problem of only being able to use one arm without bringing blinding pain upon yourself. That’s where the pack would come in handy. 

The thought of one of them seeing you vulnerable like that, putting their hands on you right now makes your skin crawl. 

A shiver runs down your spine, your body shuddering uncontrollably. You grunt as your shoulder screams in pain, another electric jolt burning straight through your nerves and down through your feet. Fuck. You mouth the word, squeezing your eyes shut. It makes your stomach churn, the soup starting to burn a path back up through your esophagus.

“Breathe for me.” Dr. Keller says, putting a gentle hand on your right shoulder. 

In and out. You focus on your breath, the only thing you can do without feeling like you’re going to go insane from the pain. It’s all you can do in this situation. It’s the only thing you can do at all. Breathe. Just keep breathing. 

Sometimes you don’t want to. 

The pain passes as it always does, leaving behind a subtle ache that will linger until the next flare of pain. It’s a constant, never-ending cycle that you can’t escape from. Weeks, Dr. Keller had said. It can take weeks to heal. You’ll be stuck in this cycle for weeks and weeks. What if it never heals? That is a possibility. It’s always a risk with any injury. 

What if the rest of your life is like this? 

You’re crying again, hot tears blazing a path down your cheeks. They won’t stop, they never stop. There’s a constant stream down your face, even in your sleep. You’ve woken to find your face and neck damp from the never ceasing flood of tears. 

How you can’t wait for the time to come when you have none left.

You’d welcome the numbness at this point, greet it like an old friend and invite it in for tea. Anything over the pain and tears that won’t stop. The depression-fueled numbness that had filled you when Price and Gaz left, then Soap and Ghost would be a welcome relief at this point. Anything would be better than the pain. 

You almost wish you were in a coma right now. Then you wouldn’t feel anything at all. 

Dr. Keller puts the spoon back into the soup bowl before rolling the table to the side. She puts a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair as you cry. The room is silent aside from your sniffles, Dr. Keller not having to say a single word. The silence is almost a blessing. You’re tired of hearing words, of hearing people speak. There’s nothing anyone can say that will do anything to help you, to comfort you, to make it better. 

There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better. 

You’re so tired of being like this. 

The sedative is kicking in before you even reach the airfield. She can see the way your head is drooping further and further forward in the car, your body jostling without any complaint. It had started kicking in before you even got into the car, as you offered very little resistance when Kyle helped her mauver you into the front seat. She chose Kyle out of everyone to help her in hopes it would be easiest on you. Your claimed alpha’s beta is a good place to start in rebuilding the bonds within the pack, and his calm demeanor certainly helps. He is a caretaker through and through, that beta trait prominent above the others in him. He would have made a good medic, had he gone that route. 

Your chin drops to your chest as the car comes to a stop in front of the plane, your body slumping to the side against the door. 

“She’s out.” Christine says, unbuckling her seatbelt. 

“Makes this easier.” Kyle says, getting out of the car. 

They maneuver you into the wheelchair, Christine easing your head onto your right shoulder to avoid aggravating the left. The less pain you’re in when you come out of it, the better, though pain will be unavoidable. Kyle pushes the wheelchair up the ramp of the plane, Christine following close behind. She’s glad she gave you the sedative before you left the med center to avoid as much pain as possible. She almost wishes she had given it to you earlier, as getting you into a sweatshirt had been a battle of its own. Though, the longer it stays in your system, the longer you’ll sleep through the flight. The longer you sleep through the flight, the longer they can delay the inevitable emotional storm of being enclosed in a tight space with your pack. 

If you’re lucky, you’ll be out of it long enough for them to reach the cottage without incident. 

John is waiting near the front of the aircraft, his eyes watching carefully as Kyle helps maneuver you into a seat. Even with the turmoil in the pack bonds, an alpha will always feel protective over their omega. There’s some things that can’t be undone, even in such a fragile state. Some instincts can’t be unlearned, no matter what. 

“I gave her a sedative.” Christine explains as she gets you as comfortable as possible in the seat. “It won’t last the whole flight, but it’ll take a while to wear off regardless.” 

“Is that more for her or for us?” John asks. 

“Both.” Christine says. “Mostly for her. It helps with the pain of moving around, but it will also keep her calm in close quarters like this.” 

“Here.” John says, handing her something. It’s a blanket, brand new by the feel of it. “Johnny made a store run this morning. It’s going to get cold in here, so he got the warmest one he could find.” 

Christine takes the blanket, the fabric thick and soft in her hands. It’s a touching gesture, speaking volumes of their desire to still care for you despite everything, their willingness to do what they have to, to keep the pack together. “Perfect.” She says, carefully draping it over you and tucking it around you before John gets you secured in the seat. 

“It’s going to be a long flight.” John says, taking a step back. 

“It is.” Christine says, pulling out her thermometer. She takes your temperature, letting out a hum at the number that pops up on screen. “I need to monitor her temperature.” She explains as John gives her a look. “It’s been spiking when she gets stressed.” 

“She's not quite out of it yet, is she?” John asks.

“Not quite.” She says, putting the thermometer back in her bag. “I’ve only seen two omegas successfully come back from that point, and I know the number across the board isn’t very high. It takes a long time for the body and the brain to get back to normal.” 

“And on top of everything that happened...” 

She stares up at him for a long moment. “She’s very strong. I knew she was a fighter, but to come out the other side even where she is now...” Christine shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say this at the time, but I was expecting the worst. When that call came in about what state she was in...” She bites her lip, holding the emotions back. “Her resilience and fortitude is what kept her alive. That and Simon’s courage to do what needed to be done.” 

“I know.” John says, looking past her. “We all owe a lot to him.” 

Christine puts a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re doing what’s best for her. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it goes against every instinct you have, it’s what she needs.” 

“That’s all that matters to us right now.” John says, staring down at her hand for a moment. “There’s nothing else we can do, so it’s time we start putting our priorities where they should have been the whole time.” 

Christine gives him a small smile. “I’m proud of you for that. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you’ve been told since the beginning.” 

The corner of John’s lips twitch before his face falls into the emotionless mask he’s been wearing for the last few days. “It’s about time we get our heads out of our arses.” 

“I can’t blame you totally.” She shrugs. “We were all just doing what the initiative was telling us to do. We couldn’t have known. There wasn’t any room to question it.” 

“I wish we would have figured it out sooner.” He sighs. 

“Things might have been worse if the truth did come out sooner. If you started digging into the initiative too soon, Shepherd might have gotten antsy and taken more drastic measures to stop the truth from coming out entirely.” She glances down at you. “I think this was all inevitable.” She turns her gaze back to John. “What happened, happened. None of us can change that. All we can do is keep moving forward with what we have right now.” 

He stares at her for a long moment. “The more time passes, the more I’ve come to realize why Kate chose you for this position.” 

The corner of her lips turns up in a smile. “Well, I am rather good at my job, which, among other things, involves advocating on behalf of omegas.” 

John huffs. “Wish we would have listened sooner.” 

“You can’t change the past.” She repeats, looking down at you again. “But you can change the future.” 

You woke from your sedation about four hours from Helston. 

Well, ’woke’ might have been too strong of a word for it. Your eyes opened, but you were still hazy, movements sluggish and entirely unaware of the world around you. You floated between sleep and awareness for an hour before finally gaining consciousness completely. Awareness took quite a while to return, though. Not until they were moving you to the car from the plane. 

Even still you’re groggy, slumped against the door in the back seat of the car. You blink slowly, eyes unfocused as you stare out the window at the blur of green passing by. 

“How is she?” John asks from the driver's seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror. 

“Cow.” You say, blinking slowly as the car passes a field of cows. 

“Still out of it.” Christine answers from the back seat where she's sitting next to you. Your response might have been enough to answer that. “Better than being in pain, though.” 

“How long will it take for her to get out of it?” Kyle asks. 

“Hopefully she’ll be more lucid by the time we get there, but it could take a few hours for it to completely wear off.” Christine says, wiping a bit of drool from your chin. “Probably not a bad thing. This is a big change, and with everything that’s happened, it’s going to take some time to settle in.” 

“Things are going to be rough.” Kyle says. 

“Yes.” She agrees. “Being enclosed in a small space with the people you want to see the least in the world isn’t an ideal situation. It’ll be an adjustment for everyone. I trust all of your abilities to adapt, though. Just don't go in expecting things to be the way they were.”

John's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Kyle cracks his window open, prepared for the thickening of John's scent in the air. Christine knows she hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. Even if you were open to forgiveness right now, even if they had chosen to go after you right away, things still wouldn't be the same. Things won't ever be the same. It is their fault deep at the root of it. Those cameras were put up because of them, you were taken because of them. You were chosen for the “initiative” because of them, because Kate thought you'd fit in well with them. Their decisions shaped your life, and will continue to shape your life. 

Can you ever come to forgive them? Christine likes to think so. She has the hope that they can put in the work and regain your trust and earn eventual forgiveness. She knows you'll allow them to try once the initial hurt and emotions begin to fade, once the two of you put in enough work to start processing the trauma around the events that happened. It will take time. Probably a long time. 

She'll be there every step of the way. 

“Ashley did some shopping for us, picked up some stuff to get us until we can get into town.” Kyle says, looking at his phone. 

“Good.” John says, his shoulders starting to relax. “Should wait a couple days before going. Get settled in.”

“She's still working on cleaning up. Probably still be there when we get there.” Kyle says, putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“That's fine. We’ll probably have to utilize her a bit.” 

“Doubt she'll complain.” Kyle says, looking out the window. “Be thrilled to have something to do besides work.” 

You let out a quiet groan, shifting against the door. “Hurts.” 

“I know, honey.” Christine says, carefully adjusting your left arm. “I’ll give you more pain meds once we get to the cottage.” 

“We’ll be there in half an hour.” John says, glancing up at the rearview mirror again before turning his eyes back to the road. 

The half hour seems to take the longest as you continue to become more and more lucid and aware. The pain sets in first, your brain picking up on those signals before anything else. John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel as you begin to whine and whimper around every bend in the road and turn he has to make, every jostle of the car. Every instinct in his body tells him to pull over and comfort you, but he can’t. It’s more important to get to the cottage, and there’s no guarantee you’d even let him. It might make things worse. 

The last thing you need right now is for things to get worse. 

Christine breathes a sigh of relief as they pull up to the cottage, glad she can finally get you somewhere more comfortable. You’ve been in far too many uncomfortable positions today, moved around too much. She would have liked to keep you in Texas a couple more days, but she knew as soon as you were able to travel, the better. The sooner they could get off the grid, the better. 

The sooner they could get out of Texas, the better. 

Kyle is getting the wheelchair out of the trunk when Johnny and Simon pull up, not having been far behind. They likely took a turn around the back roads to ensure no one was following and to keep things from looking too suspicious. 

Christine keeps you from slumping out of the car as she carefully opens the door on your side. You’re more awake than you were, blinking up at her with almost startlingly aware eyes.

“Crutch.” You pout when she pulls the wheelchair closer. 

She gives you a look. “Honey I'm not sure you could even stand right now.” You may be more aware, but that doesn’t mean your body is working as it should.

You let out a defiant noise as you attempt to get your legs out of the car, trying to hide your grunts of pain and discomfort. 

She's tempted to stand there and let you try, but she knows all hell will break loose if she lets you fall. She's not willing to take that risk, not to mention it will cause you more pain to get you up off the ground. 

“Come on,” She says, stopping you before you can get your feet under you. “Nice and slow.” 

You let out a quiet growl of indignation but you allow her to help you, your legs trembling as she eases you up. Kyle is there with the wheelchair, getting it as close to you as possible so she can sit you down quickly. 

“Ow.” You breathe, eyes pinched closed as you breathe through the pain. 

“I know.” She says, patting your good shoulder lightly. She's glad she put you in the sweatshirt before you left Texas. It's chilly outside, chillier than it was further inland a few days ago. 

It's hard to believe it's only been a few days since you were taken. Barely even a week. So much happened in such a short period of time. It feels like it’s been weeks since everything started, but then again, it had been weeks since John and Kyle first left. It had been weeks since you had been around your whole pack together by the time you were taken. The deep depression you sunk into before the events of the last week had been draining you slowly for weeks before this. It had started before John and Kyle were deployed, back to that day when you revealed the cameras and the secret you had been hiding from them. 

How long you’ve gone in such turmoil. 

How far you still have to go. 

The path up to the door is rocky and uneven, the wheelchair jostling as she pushes it up towards the door. She can picture your face, the way it has to be screwed up in pain. You're silent though, holding it all in. She almost wishes you weren't being silent about it. 

The door is already open, light shining from inside as she approaches. Kyle is in the house already, having gone ahead to greet his sister. John is right behind the two of you as Christine turns to wheel you up the steps into the house. His eyes are on you, focused and ready should you fall.  

Christine would never let you fall, and from the way your hand is gripping the arm of the chair for dear life, you probably couldn't anyway. 

She wheels you through the entryway, the inside warmer thanks to a fire that's burning. It's a nice cottage, far nicer than she had been expecting judging from the outside. 

Johnny lets out a low whistle as he enters behind John, looking around. “Yer parents own this?” 

“It was given to our mum by our grandparents. They did some...renovations before they passed it on.” Kyle says. 

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says. 

It looks new inside. New wood floors, freshly painted walls. The furniture looks like she would expect to find in an English seaside cottage, though. Kyle’s parents went to France for summer vacation instead of utilizing the cottage, and none of his siblings had wanted to use it, he told them. It looks almost perfect, like it came right out of a home renovation show. Kyle’s sister must have worked some sort of magic to get it this clean. 

It is a very nice cottage. It’s small, the door opening right to the main area. There’s two couches and a chair in the middle of the room around a coffee table. To the left of the couches is a fireplace, the fire already lit and crackling. It looks original, likely having been untouched in the renovations. There’s a door to the left of the fireplace closer to the main entryway. A bedroom maybe? To the right of the front door are two doors, one on the far wall and one facing the front door. 

The stairs are in the middle of the house, leading up to the second floor where there’s likely more bedrooms. On the far side of the main area is the dining area and beyond that is a sliding glass door. Around the corner on the far side of the stairs is likely the kitchen. She can see the fridge from where she’s standing. It’s new. Very new. Makes her wonder just how long ago it had been renovated. 

“Everyone, this is my sister Ashley.” Kyle says, introducing the other woman in the room. 

“Hello,” she says, giving everyone a wave and a dazzling smile. 

She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium box braids pulled up into a bun on top of her head. They look a lot alike, her and Kyle. Tall and slender and stunning. They have the same smile and the same soft brown eyes. She's wearing scent blockers, but Christine can imagine her having a soft scent like lavender or something fresh like mint. 

“There's two rooms down here, and two upstairs.” Kyle says. “The main bedroom is through there.” He points towards a door to their left. “I figure we'll give that to our omega. The bathroom in there has a walk-in shower.” 

“Perfect.” Christine says. That will make getting you in and out of the shower easier at least, and you won’t have to go far to use the bathroom.

“You should take the other room down here.” John says, looking at Christine. “So you can be close in case of an emergency.”

And so you don't have to be too close to them, so you won’t feel like they’re hovering.

He doesn't have to say that part out loud. 

“I put new sheets on all the beds.” Ashley says. “I also picked up everything Kyle sent on the list. Food, some clothes, some other necessities.”

You let out a quiet groan, Christine patting your head gently. You have to be exhausted and sore after the day. She should give you another dose of pain medicine like she said she would. You’re going to need it tonight. 

“Let's get you laying down for a bit.” She says, wheeling you towards the door. 

Kyle opens it for her, revealing a spacious room with a big window looking out towards the sea. You're going to spend a lot of time in front of that window, she thinks. The bed is in the middle of the room, and there’s two chairs facing the window. She’s almost tempted to sit you in one of the chairs, but laying down will be more comfortable for you right now. 

You're still too out of it now to care much as she wheels you to the double bed. With Kyle's help they get you horizontal, Christine draping the blanket at the end of the bed over you. It’s not very soft, but it will do for now. She’ll have to get the guys to pick up some soft blankets for you when they go to town. She has a whole list of things starting in her head she needs them to pick up.

She leans your crutch against the end of the bed just in case you might need it for an emergency. She hopes you’ll yell first, but you always have been stubborn. Being mostly bed-bound has only made that worse. 

“I’m going to go look through the things Ashley picked up.” She says, patting your leg gently. “Get some rest.” 

Christine leaves the door open a crack as she exits, wanting to give you a little privacy as you nap, or at least she hopes you’ll nap. It’s going to be a rough adjustment, and you’re going to need as much rest as you can get. 

“I’m assuming you’re Christine.” Ashley says, walking up to her. 

“I am.” She says, giving Ashley a smile. 

She can’t help but get lost in Ashley’s soft gaze for a moment. The Garrick siblings seem to share the same magnetic energy. There’s something almost ethereal about them. She could easily imagine them with glowing halos and angel wings. It’s almost like she’s being blessed with the opportunity to look upon her. She could spend an hour staring at Ashley’s face and not grow tired of looking at her.

“I picked up the items Kyle said you needed.” She says, motioning to the bags on the coffee table, pulling Christine out of her daze. “I couldn’t find the exact nutrient powder you asked for, so I got one that was as close as I could find.” 

Christine glances through the bags. She was thorough, getting at least two of everything. 

“I got warmer clothes for her too, since it can get chilly out here this time of year. Just some simple things for now until you guys get into town.” Ashley says. “I did some research too and I read that omegas like comforting things so I picked up some extra blankets and pillows” Ashley says, motioning to a couple bags sitting on the couch. “I also picked up this,” She pulls a stuffed dog from one of the bags, holding it up. “It was the softest one I could find. I thought it might help.” 

A small smile forms on Christine’s face, her heart fluttering in her chest from the sweet, thoughtful gesture. Ashley doesn’t even know you, nor did she know exactly what happened to you, and yet she went so far as to pick up some comfort items for you. You have nothing right now, only the borrowed clothes on your back. All of your belongings are still on base, all of the things that you had built to make your perfect nest. Would you want any of them still? Or have they been tainted by the events of the last few weeks? 

That Ashley thought to do this has warmth flooding Christine’s body. You can have some comfort now without having to wait for their trip to town. She almost feels the urge to cry. She wants to hug Ashley, thank her over and over for her kindness. Ashley has no idea how much her small act of kindness means, how much it's going to mean. 

A smile forms on Christine’s face as she stares at the stuffed dog. “It’s perfect.” 

You can hear it. 

In the distance, the quiet roar reaches your ears as you’re dragged from the sweet arms of sleep. It must be a dream, or perhaps the sedative is still clinging to your mind, making you imagine things. 

No. 

You’d know that sound anywhere. 

The effort to push yourself up to sit is a momentous one, every cell in your body protesting after a day of being moved and jostled. The last thing you want is to move right now, but you have to. 

The pain meds have done little to help.

The crutch at the end of your bed must be a thousand miles away as you sit there and stare at it. The ache in your body only increases as you become more and more aware of the pain, almost as if it can tell what it is your mind is planning. 

The door is cracked open, letting in a slit of light from outside. It’s dark in the room, the curtains pulled over the window. It’s a blessing compared to the bright yellow light outside the door. You welcome the darkness as your head begins to throb. You could call for assistance. You’d get more help than you needed. More help than you want. 

No. 

You need to do this. 

The effort it takes to get standing nearly sends you back onto the bed. The pain nearly blinds you as your feet touch the floor, your body leaning against the side of the mattress out of desperation. If you fall, you’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford that. You don’t want that. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The breaths out of your nose are short and sharp as you reach for the crutch, fingers trembling in the effort to fight the pain threatening to blind you. You’re trembling like a leaf in a storm as your fingers finally wrap around the cool metal. The rubber bottom drags across the floor as you tug it over to you, holding it against your chest for a moment. 

Breathe. That’s what you need to do. Breathe. 

In and out. 

Nice and slow. 

The pain is only a memory. The pain is nothing. The memories forming at the edges of your mind will take over and wipe out the pain and the misery. You just have to be sure. You just have to be certain.

You push yourself upright using the crutch, tucking it under your arm. You should go back to bed. You should rest. 

No. 

You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The first step you take nearly makes you sick. 

It’s like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, knees wobbling, feet shaking. You lean heavily on the crutch, your determination the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor in a heap. That might almost hurt worse than forcing yourself to stand upright. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Inch by inch you move across the floor, silently grateful for the socks on your feet. They allow you to slide across the hardwood, but they also pose a threat. Slide too far and you’ll lose your feet. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The determination and your desire for certainty is what keeps you sliding inch by inch across the floor towards that strip of blinding light in front of you. It’s hovering before you, threatening you. How do you know there’s not one of them standing guard, waiting for you to try and leave? You can’t know. You don’t have a clue what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be nothing. It could be your entire pack. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You take a moment at the door, resting your aching feet. Your body is throbbing from the effort to keep yourself upright, the sedative still numbing your brain and your movements. It’s like treading through honey, everything twice as hard as it should be. You can walk. You’ve done it before. You did it in the medical center. 

You can do it here. 

You use the crutch to push the door open more, your free arm still tucked in a sling to keep you from moving it. Reaching for it with that arm would have put you on the floor, would have caused more pain than you needed, would have made you fall. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

The light burns. Explosions of yellows and whites erupt behind your eyelids as you screw them tight against the sudden onslaught. The sun is in the room, shining its rays directly into your sensitive eyes. Your stomach churns, your fingers tightening around the crutch so tight your knuckles begin to ache. The oppressive light makes you want to recede back into the darkness of the room behind you like a vampire shying away from the light of day. 

No. 

You won’t be defeated by the harsh artificial lighting. You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The others are moving around. You can hear voices around the corner, voices upstairs with thudding footsteps. The air is thick with a mesh of scents, cleaning chemicals, and the burn of scent blocker. Your nose wrinkles at the sudden onslaught against your senses, your sedated brain making it all seem so much worse. 

You need to know. 

The hardwood floors continue and you use them to your advantage as you shuffle your way across the main area. The fire crackles as you pass, the popping of a log making you startle. Your feet slide again, your body pushing up against the crutch to hold yourself steady. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Your target is dead ahead, a mile away but so close you can almost taste it. Just past the dining table and straight on till morning. 

Despite your snail’s pace, no one seems to notice you shuffling your way across the house. It should make you upset, the fact that none of them notice you moving around, but instead it makes you glad. They’d try to stop you if they noticed you, turn you around and shuffle you back to bed. Or worse, they’d carry you. 

How easily you could slip away, though. 

Well...in theory. 

Perhaps that’s why they ‘re not paying you any mind. How far could you really go in your current state? 

Why would you want to stray from the only safe space you have? 

The world outside is more dangerous with the state you’re in. Not just because of your injuries and your status, but also because you know Shepherd is still out there, and for all you know Graves is as well. 

He could be waiting right outside the door. 

No. 

They’d know. 

They’d protect you. 

They failed. 

You push past the fear in favor of certainty as you push forward, passing the dining table in your slow crawl towards the sliding glass door. 

It poses an entirely new threat as you stand before it, staring out the darkened glass. You have to get it open. Getting it open takes strength and you’re down to one hand that’s trying to keep you upright. 

You have to know. 

You have to be certain. 

You lean your weight on the crutch, ignoring the way it digs into your armpit as you reach for the handle. You click the lock, wrapping your fingers around the plastic before pulling. Your body screams with pain as you tug, the door sliding in the track as slowly as you had moved across the small living area. It’s almost as if it's mocking you. 

It’s open only as wide as you need to crutch your way through, doing your best not to knock your left shoulder against the frame. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

You can smell it. 

The salty sea air invades your senses, slipping up through your nose and straight into your brain. Memories come flooding back of childhood vacations back when things were simpler. Back when nothing mattered but the sand and the water and avoiding getting chased by your brothers carrying the piece of seaweed they found. 

Polkadot bathing suits, bright red to be seen easily. Toes in the water, sand everywhere. The nap in the silent car home. 

How simple life was back then. How easy life was. 

Your heart aches for those days again. The days when you could exist without a care in the world, trusting your pack would keep you safe, trusting your family would care for you. Your mind yearns for that sense of safety and security again. 

The world is grey as you hobble across the porch, the grey seeming to go on forever. You missed it, the chill in the air, the gloomy grey overhead. How you yearned for the gloom of England while stuck in the heat of Texas. 

Anything is better than Texas. 

Your forward shuffle pauses at the edge of the deck, your eyes looking out into the grey. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare out into the distance, the ache in your chest intensifying. It blocks out the pain in your body, numbing you to everything else as you stand there, legs trembling from the effort of going the short distance from your room to the end of the porch. 

You can see it. 

Emotions swirl inside of you like a hurricane as you stare out where the grey water meets the grey sky in the line of the horizon. Those emotions threaten to choke you as you stand there trembling at the edge of the porch. There’s a breeze, a cold one that bites through the fabric of your sweatshirt and into the skin below, but you don’t care. 

You can’t care. 

Your legs shake from the exertion, the neverending exhaustion that’s settled deep into your bones. It’s not just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one as well. It’s been a long week. 

Only a week. 

So much has happened in a week. 

You want to sit. You want to sink down onto the porch and rest. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

There’s a pain in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. The emotions are whirling, tightening around your chest, squeezing your lungs until they feel like they might pop. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You needed certainty. You needed to know. 

You can hear it. You can smell it. You can see it. 

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare out at the sea. 

NEXT ->

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[miniimight]

❝ CAN YOU STOP PUTTING EVERYTHING ON THE TOP SHELVES?! ❞ you finally talk to him after a little argument ( height difference )

with deku, bakugou, rody

IZUKU

he tried to look nonchalant as he responded with a questioning hum. yeah, he was putting stuff on the top shelves. "hmm, what?"

you crossed your arms and glared at him. "you heard me."

he turned to you with the picture of innocence plastered on his face. "i don't know what you mean, i just put things where i put them. it just happens that they're high up."

you raised an accusatory eyebrow.

"for you, anyway." he mumbled, turning back to make his sandwich.

"exactly!" you exclaimed. "for me! you know i can't reach things up there and you do it on purpose!" you found your face was hot as you explained it.

you knew exactly why—you both had gotten into a little fight and you weren't talking to him for a while. this was the first time you had spoken since the argument, and even though you were yelling at him, your voice was music to his ears.

a small smile spread on his face despite his efforts to feign innocence. "on purpose?"

"yes!"

he paused, walking towards you. his disregard for space led to you being crammed against the counter behind you. he leaned over you and asked, "what it is that you need, love?"

your cheeks heated and you cast your gaze to the floor. "the box up there..." you murmured. he stretched to reach it and you flattened your palms against his chest. "izuku! you're squishing me—!"

he chuckled and brought the box down to the counter before kissing your forehead. "i'm glad we're talking again."

BAKUGO

"what was that?" he asked you, a knowing smirk on his face.

you huffed, already on top the counter trying (and failing) to reach the stupid box you needed. "i said stop putting shit on the top shelves. you know i can't reach it."

he shrugged, turning his attention back to his phone. "i dunno what you're talkin' about, princess."

you glared and pointed to the box. "you don't even use it?!"

"aw, don't jump the gun on me now, babe. you know i like to switch things up a lil' bit." he grinned, taking so much joy in your visible frustration. he was just happy you were speaking with him again.

you rolled your eyes, electing to ignore him as you tried your best not to fall off the surface or pull the cabinet down with you.

bakugo eyed you carefully as he threw away the thought of you begging for his help, reluctantly decided your immediate safety was more important. "'kay, that's enough." he walked over, his hands on your hips steadying your wobbly movement. "you'll hurt yourself, y/n. come down."

"i want that stupid box..." you pouted.

he rolled his eyes, his arms now circling around you as he lifted you off the counter. you gasped and curled your legs towards your body, clutching his wrists.

"oh, relax, you know i won't drop ya." he grumbled and set you down next to him. he easily plucked the box from its high perch, handing it to you.

"happy now?" he pinched your cheek. "stubborn brat. could've broken a bone or somethin'."

RODY

"what, having trouble sweetheart?" he snickered.

your face heated and you huffed. "rody... just get it for me, please."

"hmmm..." he pretended he was thinking hard. "i think... no."

you looked at him incredulously. "no? you put it up there!"

"i so did not." he turned up his nose, though pino was smiling and nodding her head.

you narrowed your eyes at him. "you're sabotaging me into breaking your silent treatment."

"whaaaat?" he exaggerated confusion. he held his head and pointed at himself dumbly. "me?"

"you're impossible." you rolled your eyes, moving to climb onto the counter.

"in any case, my plan worked wonderfully," his signature smirk graced his lips as he laughed softly, leaning against the wall to survey your distress.

your fingers just about brushed the side of the box before pino crashed into it, sending it further back and completely out of your reach. you swiveled to glare at the little pink bird. "pino!"

she bashfully twirled in the air before happily fluttering away.

rody's laughter filled your ears and you groaned, resting your head against the shelf. you heard shuffling—when you looked up, rody and his stupid smug smirk was beside you, easily bringing the box down.

"now we both look stupid, yeah?" he pressed a fat kiss on your cheek and softened when you laughed brightly.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading &lt;3

[dcxdpdabbles]

hello hello! After a few posts of this premise I just had to say something and because you just make them come to life I just had to ask :) anyway, Danny let’s say in seriously injured by the giw or even his parents but he is reverting to his core and he goes to Clockwork to help since he’s the one he’s the most closest ghost to and kinda his guardian ghost, Clockwork sees that he himself will not be able to help forever and finds a different solution. He takes Danny’s core and makes a magic safe guard and puts his core inside in the guise of a doll like this one:

But with Danny’s coloration! He sends Danny to Gotham and ends up being picked up by Robin!Jason who thinks he’s cute and gets attached, Danny is weak but trying to gather ectoplasm but sends a sense of gratefulness to Jason who feels it but is a bit confused but happy he saved a doll. He brings it with him everywhere and takes it with him everywhere but when Jason dies and buried Danny is sat at his grave and he wakes up a little earlier with Danny and brings with him. He gets a strange attachment and feeling of safety with the doll and then is able to talk to it and Danny and him become closer and when he eventually reunites with everyone and things smooth over he feels it’s fine to bring Danny the doll to the mansion and the others realize that Jason has a haunted fucking doll and with the already thin trust they can’t do hair when Danny messes with them with moving their stuff, appearing out of nowhere, and being all around creepy but he helps Alfred so Jason has no issues and finds it funny. There are probably times where they try to dispose of it anyways but comes back completely fine and they become even warier but Danny is just having the time of his life while eating his ectoplasm while helping them with cases and finding things and such and Alfred even defends him when they try to talk Jason around about the creepy doll and is like “Did you stay at my grave 24/7 in all weather? That’s what I thought.” When Tim tries to get evidence he takes a picture of the doll all he sees is a boy around the age Jason died with pale soft blue eyes staring back with a soft smile that even if it wasn’t really creepy he still felt a chill down his spine

First of all, the photo almost gave me a heart attack. Haunted dolls terrify me (ironically, I fear ghosts.) But honestly, I love the prompt, so here you go!

Jason moves back into the manor- sort of. He's still in the middle of his hostile takeover of Crime Alley, but things are a little less stressful between the family. Maybe it was because Jason's Pit Madness was slowly disappearing, thanks to his friend Danny.

Danny was a great listener and always willing to help Jason sort through his feelings and thoughts. He was the reason that Jason chose to try to talk things out with Bruce before going through his insane idea of attacking Tim at the Titian Tower.

Which, you know, Tim was grateful he didn't actually go through with it after finding the plans in some of Jason's stuff while helping him move. The fact he wanted to wear his old Robin outfit- which would not fit on his body now- would have been beyond traumatizing enough, thank you very much.

"I know." Jason laughed as the rest of the family crowded around the plans. Even Damian seemed a bit disturbed by what was written. "Danny made me realize I didn't have the skinny legs to pull off the outfit."

Tim has never met Danny, but he has heard about him. Jason spoke about him when he followed Bruce and Jason around with his camera, which was enough for him to know Danny was likely a childhood friend.

Of course, Danny went by the code "Doll" in those days. Personally, Tim had always assumed that Jason and Danny shared a relationship that went beyond friends.

It had been another reason that Jason was his favorite Robin. If Robin could like boys, then Tim could too, and the knowledge that one of his literal heroes was like him helped Tim accept himself faster.

He never brought it up, even as Jason slowly gained control over Crime Alley as a Crime Lord- one that didn't kill because it would make Danny sad, which was another point in his secret boyfriend checkbox list.

Everything was fine- until Bruce found out about Danny.

"Jason, I thought you outgrew Danny," Bruce uttered hesitantly as Jason explained how Danny had fallen over himself when describing his Titain Tower plan.

Jason's eyes flashed green at once, and everyone in the cave grew tense.

"I will never outgrow Danny!" The second oldest barked, his neck muscles straining.

Now Tim knew that Danny was a secret, so he never brought him up despite the burning need to ask every question under the sun about him. Jason wasn't out to the rest of the family- detectives or not- that was up to Jason to decide when they would know.

He just always assumed Bruce knew since, you know, his son called his best friend Doll back when he was fourteen and running around in green spandex.

How could he not know? Did he want Jason to change his cape out for a rainbow and sing musicals at the top of his lungs on Wayne Tower?

Actually.....Jason did sing in musicals at his drama club. Honestly, Bruce was in denial.

Jason may not be out, but Tim wouldn't let Bruce bully him about his lover!

"Jason can have whatever friends he wants! And feel whatever he feels about them!" Tim snares, and that causes Dick, Damian, and Steph to bristle. They stand beside a huffing Jason, slowly coming down from his rage at the sight of support.

Cass and Alfred watch from the Batcomputer, a tension around their eyes the only sign that they, too. Bruce intelligently raises his hands in a placating manner.

"I did not mean anything wrong by that, Jason. I'm just surprised Danny still has such a strong hold on you." Bruce starts, his eyes never leaving his boy's face, even with all his other children flocking around him. "I thought Danny was lost when you died."

There is a long pause where Tim considers the words. It's a fair assumption. After all, Danny thought Jason had died and been buried. Why would he wait around after that?

Even the Bats still didn't know what caused Jason to come back. How would a civilian possibly begin to consider his boyfriend returning from the grave- or Tim assumes to be a civilian since Danny had never joined them on the field? He had to be in the know for Jason to tell him the plans comfortably.

"He waited every day, twenty-four seven at my grave," Jason tells Bruce, puffing up his chest. "He was with me when I was in a coma and when I was practically brain-dead on the streets. Hell, he was even there when the League of Assiasns brainwashed me!"

Damian jerks in surprise. He always gets taken aback by how casually Jason admits being part of the organization of his upbringing, no matter how briefly. Not even Bruce does that. "I....was unaware Daniel had been with you. I never saw him."

"Talia allowed me to have him with me just as long as I kept him tied up in my closet so he wouldn't be spotted."

Everyone but Alfred and Bruce step back, staring in horror at Jason. Tim can figure out by their reactions alone that everyone in the Bats had come to the same conclusion as he did about Danny being Jason's lover then.

After all, it's hard to hide that kind of thing from the family of detectives.

How could I have missed this? Tim thinks in dismay. Quickly, his brain runs through every time Jason has so much as hinted at Danny, trying to spot the signs that apparently his brother was abusive and honestly psychotic towards his boyfriend.

"Jason," Dick began in the same casual tone he usually used on hostile witnesses. "Where is Danny now?"

" Upstairs in my closet. He kept trying to escape, so I had to switch to chains." The responses are as easy as they are casual. Tim's stomach drops.

Quickly, he makes eye contact with Steph, who very quickly lowers her chin at him, and then his eyes flicker to the others. Damian's hands have curled, while Dick moves casually to stand behind Jason, which will make it easier to restrain him.

How long had Danny been up there? How many days and nights did he spend held against his will in the one place that should have been the safest of Gotham?

They all tense their muscles, ready to strike-

"Danny is a doll," Bruce suddenly speaks up, his eyes flickering to all of the gathered children with a wild, alarmed look. Ah, he caught on to the fact they were about to take Jason down. "A doll that Jason found in Crime Alley. Made of porcelain and fabric. Not a person."

The Bats are still eyeing their father with sharp, trained eyes, but Alfred's agreeing nod has them relaxing. Oh, thank the gods!

"Of course, Danny isn't a person," Jason replies mystified. He is unaware of how close he came to being jumped. As it were, the Bats stepped away from him as he looked around, confused. "Why would I have a person chained up in my closet?"

Bruce gets a strange, sad smile on his face. "Yes, Chum, why would you."

Tim isn't following. "If Danny is a toy-"

"A doll." Jason cuts in with a hard edge to his voice.

"Right, sorry, if Danny is a doll, why must you chain him up?"

Jason smiles. "Cause Danny runs the first chance he gets."

What?

"Danny is a haunted doll," Bruce starts, only to have Jason huff.

"No, he isn't! Danny is not haunted; he's just curious." Jason rolls his eyes. "Yeah, he never stays still, and okay, sometimes things disappear around the house, but that doesn't necessarily mean a haunting!"

"Master Jason, might I remind you that while you and Mister Danny were first living here, I caught the vacuum moving by itself?" Alfred calls. "I also remember that Mister Danny's head turned to me and followed my movement as I dusted."

"He just wanted to help you clean," Jason defends in a rather childish manner that Tim never thought he would see from someone his age. Maybe that's why Bruce was worried Danny was still around. "He's not a ghost."

"Chum, I hear laughter from your room even when you are not home." Bruce starts. "The laughing started the day you brought Danny home."

"He can tell great jokes!"

"Wait, tells jokes? Jason, does Danny talk to you? " Steph questioned, looking a tiny bit spooked. Oh yeah, she hates ghosts. Tim forgot her fear of them after living so close to the Gotham cemetery and all the nasty ghost stories surrounding it.

Jason blinks down at her, likely forgetting they were present, before considering the question. He moves his hand in a so-and-son motion. "He tries, but it sounds like fast past whispers. I have to strain to hear him."

"Jason," Dick says with an easy-going smile that belies the worry in his eyes. "That's haunting one-oh-one. You're haunted."

"No, a haunting implies that Danny is dead, which he is not. Danny is just resting until his body can reform. I think he's an alien." Jason taps his chin. "He told me before that his species are the conscious manifestation of ectoplasm but that their souls are within a small core, they can retreat to when badly injured. Danny was really hurt, so he's taking a while to reform."

Bruce's strained smile becomes tighter. "We can have Zatanna or Consitine take a look at him. They might-"

"I'll blow your fucking head off if you try it, old man" Jason's eyes were a bright green, an animistic sneer at his lips, and bloodlust was thick in the air. The abrupt change makes Tim wonder if he has passed out and missed the trigger.

Bruce sighs. "Of course, Jason. Why don't you show everyone, Danny? I think it's time they meet him."

Jason beams, shooting up the stairs to go get his doll. Everyone watches him go, and until they are sure he can not hear them, they burst into conversation.

"Jason is definitely haunted!" Dick despairs, throwing himself dramatically on a nearby chair. "We need to do something! Get it away from him."

"We will do no such thing," Alfred huffs. "Mister Danny is a fine young ghost who helps Master Jason. It would be unwise to separate them."

"As much as I hate to admit it, even Dinah claims that the two are good for each other." Bruce says, likely unhappy that Black Canary used her therapy license against him, "Apparently, Danny is Jason's support doll."

Before anyone can say anything else, Jason races down the stairs with a broad smile. In his hands is a beautiful porcelain doll with black fabric hair, a fine little king suit made from expensive material, and a pretty painted face.

Its green glass eyes- colored to seem almost watery- seemed to stare into everyone's soul as Jason held him up for the room to see. Danny had no facial expression- not even a smile, just a soft, relaxed neural set of features that were popular in the era he was likely made in, but the eyes held emotions.

There was definitely something intelligent and aware in them.

Tim shuddered.

"Oh, Tim, can you take our picture? It's Danny's first time in the cave, and I want to commemorate the date!" Jason suddenly asks, rocking on his heels like he used to do as Robin. Tim wonders if Danny was doing that to him- reverting him to a child-like mind.

If so, was that a good thing? Should he let it keep happening?

"Sure, Jason," He says, instead picking up his camera that he had taken on patrol. He aims his lends, trying to find the perfect lighting as his older brother quickly holds the doll up in his arms, allowing it' head to be at the same level as his face.

Tim snaps the picture, but when he looks at the screen, a shiver runs down his spine, and it takes all his training not to scream.

Jason's smirk is not out of place for his hulky form. He takes up most of the frame, but where Danny the doll is, there is a faint outline of another person. A teenager, maybe a year younger than Jason, with pretty features, a copy of the beauty in Jason's arms, but much more human, yet not human, is smiling at the camera.

He's about a head shorter than Jason, but even with the softness of his smile, Tim has never been more creeped out in his life.

Jason is definitely haunted.

"How did it come out?" Jason asks as Danny's doll head turns to look at Damian. The younger boy imminently moved back, hiding behind Bruce. The doll's eyes followed him, almost amused by the boy's actions.

"G-good." Tim stammers. Steph is already racing for the safety of Bruce's cape, joining Damian. "Danny is beautiful."

Jason pauses, tilting his head as if hearing something, eyes flickering down to his right where the teenager ghost stood for the picture, and then grins.

"Of course he means it." Jason's ears turn pink as he admits, "I also think you're the most gorgeous person I've ever met."

Okay, Jason is definitely being haunted by someone he might have a crush on. That's....something Bruce has to deal with because Tim is the younger brother, not the dad, and thank god for that.

He might be wrong, but he gets the sense that the doll is blushing even though nothing changes.

It's not my circus and will never be my monkies. Tim thinks racing to Bruce's cape is a good idea as well. He is scared to be out here in the open like Dick and Cass.

Those two might be okay with being haunted, but Tim isn't. Just in case, he'll have to steer clear of the manor for a few days.

[angel-sweets666]

stuck together

Barbarian bakugo x princess! Reader

Your parents arranged you to the brash and rude prince of the barbarians to save their own skin. CHAPTER TWO HERE

warnings and stuff inside of the story: talks of virginity, talks of a virginity check (its accurate to the time period ok?) a/n should I make this a series? I think it’d be fun but idk ur rich btw so just like there’s rich stuff.

THE FULL VERSION IS OUTTT, truely ask and you shall receive. Anyways this is the full edited and lengthened part one I hope it’s better then the sneak peak I gave you guys

AGED UP

Mitsuki leaned back, her piercing gaze fixed on your parents. "So, what do you say? You give us your daughter, and we'll form an alliance," she proposed, pausing for their response. "It would offer protection from the Todoroki kingdom Flamoria, no?" The blonde woman smiled at your father, trying to sway him.

Flamoria had a habit of attacking your home kingdom, however in recent years the bakugos have managed to not only defeat the todorokis but make their kingdom subservient to them.

Your mother hesitated. "I mean, I dunno…"

"We'll do it," he interrupted, cutting off your mother.

"Huh?!" Your mother turned to him, shock evident on her face.

"Perfect. Sign here," Mitsuki said smoothly, handing them a piece of paper which already had both mitsuki and masarus names written down. It was a betrothal agreement, arranging the marriage between you and her hot-tempered son, Bakugo.

Your father reached for the pen, the gravity of the situation pressing down on him. "This will secure our safety and ensure a powerful ally," he murmured, almost convincing himself as much as anyone else.

"But our daughter…" your mother started, her voice filled with concern and disbelief. She looked at Mitsuki, then back at your father, torn between the political necessity and the love for her child.

"We don't have a choice," your father replied firmly, signing the paper. "This alliance is crucial for our kingdom's survival. The Empyrean empire is strong.”

Mitsuki's smile widened as she took the signed document. "Excellent. You won't regret this. Bakugo will make a fine husband, many heirs will come from this, she is a virgin right?” The blonde asks “we can get her checked for it, *name* was very sheltered growing up so we can assure you she’s a virgin.” Your father explains, leaning back in his own squeaky wooden chair. His gaze turns to your mother, who seems distraught about marrying off her child to the barbarian prince. Someone famous for being a violent person.

at 17 years old bakugo had brought back the head of a powerful tribe leader and put it on a stick for everyone to see, at 18 years old he had gathered a small army of men and defeated the midoriya kingdom and had a bloody cloak from the one of the dead soilders to prove it. Then at 20 years old bakugo had forced izuku, the Feywood king to surrender his crown. Which put feywood in the empyrean empire. No one knows where izuku midoriya currently is, all the people know is that he was last scene getting dragged by his green locks by bakugo and was never seen again.

Later on

“YOU ARRANGED ME TO WHO!?” You screamed, staring at your parents in complete horror. How could they do this to you? You make one wrong move and your own husband would order your death! “Look it’s not so bad..” “NOT SO BAD? HES KILLED HUNDREDS! THOUSANDS EVEN” “He won’t kill you though!” Your father exclaimed, An attempt to calm you. “Look, bakugo may seem like a man killing war machine of a prince but his parents assured us that he’s very gentle with women.” You scoffed, leaning your weight to one hip “bullshit. He’s gonna kill me. Brutally, he’s gonna hack off my head just you watch”

Over the next few weeks, you tried everything to call off the arrangement. You attempted to run away before the virginity check, faked illness, and came up elaborate excuses. Nothing seemed to work. Your parents were stubborn, insisting that you marry Katsuki Bakugo for the strength of their own kingdom.

Lying in bed, you tossed and turned, unable to escape the looming dread of marrying the great, scary barbarian prince, soon to be barbarian king. What if he rips your head off just because you refuse to give him a kiss? The thought made your heart race with fear.

Suddenly, a knock on the door snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. A maid entered, her eyes gloomy with pity . "Your Highness? Tomorrow we will wake you early to help you begin packing for the travel to the Empyrean Kingdom," she said softly, her voice trembling as she tried to avoid any kind of trouble.

You groaned and turned your head toward her. "When am I being sent to them?" you asked

"U-uh, most likely the day after tomorrow," the maid stammered, clearly uneasy with your distress.

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of your impending fate settle even heavier on your shoulders. "I see… thank you," you muttered.

You looked back at the red headed maid “How far is the journey?” You asked her softly, she fidgeted with her fingers “a-about two days, they live f-far from our kingdom your highness” she stammered. You smiled to the red head and dismissed her.

As she left you stared at the ceiling, your mind racing. The thought of being married off to someone you had never met, someone with a terrifying reputation, filled you with a sense of dread and hopelessness. Your parents decision felt like a betrayal, a sacrifice of your happiness for the supposed greater good of the kingdom

You stood in the corner of your large room, watching as numerous servants took gowns, corsets, shoes, and other clothing items, placing them into bags. "U-uh, don’t barbarians wear less formal clothes? Shouldn’t I bring less?" you asked the maids. All of them turned to look at you, a hint of surprise on their faces.

"Her Highness makes a point," the same red-headed maid from the night before whispered to an older maid. The older maid, seemingly more experienced, turned toward you with a thoughtful expression.

"You're right, Your Royal Highness. They would probably end up burning these clothes or turning them into barbarian-styled garments," she conceded.

You sighed, your shoulders dropping in resignation. "What do barbarian women wear?" you asked the older maid, hoping for some clarity.

"Hm… flowy skirts, I’ve seen a few wear headdresses," she replied, as some of the gowns were hung back up in the closet. The maids began to sift through your belongings, selecting items that might be more appropriate for your new life.

As you watched the process, you couldn’t help but glance out the window. Your mother and father were walking in the garden, deep in conversation. They seemed so in love, so perfectly matched, yet they were throwing you into a marriage that promised nothing but misery. The contrast between their happiness and your dread was almost unbearable.

"Your Highness, we’ll pack lighter, more practical clothing for your journey," the older maid reassured.

"Thank you," you murmured, though your heart wasn't in it. The thought of being dressed in unfamiliar clothes, adapting to an unknown culture, and being wed to a man you feared only added to your anxiety.

As the servants continued their work, you wandered over to your bed, sinking down onto the edge. The weight of your impending departure pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. You had grown up surrounded by luxury and love, and now you were being sent away, to marry probably the most violent man you’ve ever heard of

Tears welled up in your eyes as you thought about the future that awaited you. Would you ever find happiness in the Empyrean Kingdom? Would Katsuki Bakugo, the fierce and terrifying prince, ever come to care for you, or would you be nothing more than a means to an end?

"Your Highness, is there anything else you would like us to pack?" one of the younger maids asked, her voice gentle.

You shook your head, wiping away a stray tear. "No, just… make sure to leave out a few comfortable things for me to wear until we leave."

"Of course, Your Highness," she replied, her expression sympathetic.

As the maids continued their preparations, you lay back on your bed, staring up at the white ceiling. You tried to find comfort in the familiar surroundings, knowing that soon you would be leaving them behind.

"So, what's the barbarian kingdom like?" you asked, looking over to the maids. The older maid once again turned her head to look at you.

"Most of the people live in either big wooden houses with all sorts of weapons around or in these hut-like tent things. Either way, they have all these symbols painted on them," she described, clearly having been to the Empyrean Kingdom before.

"And what about the Bakugos? Where do they live? You asked

"They live in a stone castle with intricate paintings on it, and there's a lot of security. The last time I was there, they had spikes on the bridge leading to the castle, with people's heads mounted on them," the old maid replied,

"How long ago were you there?" you asked, feeling a chill run down your spine at the gruesome detail.

"When the young prince was about fifteen, so around five years ago," she said, placing one last corset into a bag.

You glanced at the six bags of items packed for your journey, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. It was a smaller amount than you had anticipated, yet it seemed to signify the end of one life and the beginning of another.

"Did you meet the prince?" you asked, trying to glean any information that might help you understand the man you were to marry.

"Briefly," she replied, her expression softening. "He was intense, even as a teenager. Always training, always pushing himself. But there was a sadness in his eyes, a loneliness."

You sighed, trying to reconcile the image of the fierce, terrifying prince with the glimpses of vulnerability the maid described. "And the people there? How are they?"

"Fierce, proud, and loyal," the older maid said. "They value strength above all else, but they also have a deep sense of honor and community. If you earn their respect, they'll defend you with their lives."

The more you learned, the more daunting your future seemed. Yet, there was a strange comfort in knowing that the barbarian kingdom, despite its harsh exterior, had its own codes and values.

As the maids continued their work, you tried to imagine what life in the Empyrean Kingdom would be like

"Is there anything else I should know?" you asked, your voice softer, almost hesitant.

The older maid paused, considering your question. "Just remember, Your Highness, that if you respect them and they’ll respect you."

Her words resonated with you, giving you a small but vital sense of empowerment. You nodded “alright, seems easy enough..”

The day that you needed to travel to the empyrean kingdom came, your parents watched you walk to the carriage by the gate as your mother sobbed into your fathers chest.

The ride to the Empyrean Kingdom was grueling. As the carriage rattled over uneven roads, you gazed out the window, the lush greenery of your homeland gradually giving way to the rugged, bushy but covered in tall trees landscape of the barbarian territory. The closer you got, the more your anxiety grew, each kilometre bringing you closer to the empyrean land

When you finally arrived at the castle, you were struck by its threatening look. The stone walls were decorated with weird red painted symbols, and the spiked bridge, as described by the maid, loomed menacingly ahead. Your heart pounded as you stepped out of the carriage, taking in the harsh surroundings.

A group of stern-faced and very attractive guards escorted you inside. The castle's interior was as intimidating as its exterior—dimly lit, with weapons and trophies of past battles displayed prominently on the walls. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you were led through the cold halls. You swore that if you listened close enough you could hear peoples screams in the dungeons below. Fuck was this hell with its 7 rings?

Finally, you were brought to a large chamber where a tall, muscular figure stood with his back to you. His spiky blonde hair was unmistakable. He was busy looking at a sheet of paper, the one oddly similar to the ones your parents shown you when they first announced your betrothal to bakugo. As he slowly turned to face you, his piercing red eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you want to look away. He looked almost angry at you, furious even. Which was confusing because you’ve known this man for a whole 10 seconds

he was tall and about 6ft with messy blonde hair, scars all over his body and face, and piercings on his ears and lip.

"So, you're the princess they sent," Katsuki said, his voice dripping with disdain. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, his expression one of barely concealed annoyance. Katsuki had a deep voice that you couldn’t tell if you found attractive or if you wanted to run away and hide.

You straightened your back, meeting his gaze with as much confidence as you could muster. "I am," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady but it ended up sounding shaky.

Bakugo scoffed, looking you up and down as if to check if you were just a weak small baby or strong enough to be a wife and a queen “Great. Another weakling to babysit," he muttered under his breath.

Anger formed within you at his dismissive attitude. "I am not a weakling," you snapped. "And I am certainly not here to be babysat."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "We'll see about that," he said, turning away from you. "Follow me. There's no point in wasting time."

You clenched your fists, biting back a come back to insult him with as you followed him through the castle. Every step echoed in the vast, cold corridors. His steps much louder then yours due to his much larger frame

Bakugo led you to a large hall where a group of people—presumably his advisors and some of the castle staff—were gathered. He introduced you curtly, barely sparing you a glance as he did so. The looks you received ranged from curiosity to outright hostility, they clearly didn’t want you here. Just like the old maid back had home had warned, these people hated the weak.

After the introductions, Bakugo dismissed everyone, including you. "You'll be shown to your chambers. Don't get in my way or else," he said, theblonde clearly trying to end the conversation between you two before he could get sucked into some conversation he didn’t waht

You followed a servant to your chambers, a mix of anger and sadness within you. The room was surprisingly comfortable, a stark contrast to the rest of the castle, but it did little to lift your spirits. You sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of your new reality settle over you.

Over the next few days, you tried to find your place in the castle. The people were distant and wary, their lack of trust clear in their every interaction with you. And Bakugo… he was even worse than most . He ignored you most of the time, and when he did speak to you, it was with a cold, dismissive tone that made your blood boil. He always had a tone of sass, trying to get under your skin constantly.

as the days grew closer and closer to your wedding date he seemed to just get more and more annoying, constantly having some tone of sass. Never wanting to talk to you and constantly flirting with your maids, you even went the effort to fire atleast 4 of them to keep their grotty hands to themselves.

“you done firing my staff now?” Bakugo grumbled as he caught up with you in the stone candle lit halls “your staff? You mean my staff? My staff who you seem to love flirting with” you corrected him, looking over your shoulder at him. The blonde furrowed his eyebrows and scoffed “I pay for them there for their my staff.” He growled, asking faster in an attempt to intimate you “actually, your parents pay for the staff.” “Hah?” “Your parent pay for the staff so their not your staff, their the palaces staff.” You said ignorantly as you played with the lace of your dress. “You gonna get out of that frill fest you call a gown?” He asked, again trying to insult you “if I do I’m gonna shove it up your ass” “excuse me?”

“Want me to say it slower? I—WILL—SHOVE—MY—GOW”

“OKAY OKAY SHUT UP WOMAN” he growled at you and walked off in spite “THATS WHAT WHAT I THOUGHT. THATS WHAT I THOUGHT.” You angrily yelled back to him, which in real aspect you were yelling at the back of his ignorant head. You huffed and stormed away in the opposite direction as you wanted nothing more then to get away from that man. As you stomped down the halls, footsteps echoing with each step; you heard a male voice call out to you

“Princess.”

you looked over, a certain brown haired man similar looking to katsuki stared back at you. It was king Masaru “I was looking for you” he says, walking towards you. You quickly curtsied to the king “About what?” You asked “we have a wedding date for you and my son” he smiled warmly as if this was a good thing “o-oh.. and when may that be..?” Your eyebrows furrowed with frustration “a month from now, they will date you to get your gown fitted this week” he seemed overly happy about something neither you or his temperamental son wanted.

“Will I wear a wedding dress from my country or your country?” You asked softly, trying to keep your cool “uh.. our country.” He informed you “I’d rather wear my own wedding gown though, your majesty” “well.. you belong to our kingdom now. We can give you a dress that’s a mix of the two if you’d rather” he compromised, trying to keep with both your and his kingdom. Letting out a sigh your shoulders dropped “I suppose that be okay…” a look of mild disappointment on your face “wonderful, I’m glad we could come to a compromise” he smiled and walked off, an electric blonde guard following close behind him who you earlier learned his name was kaminari. The blonde goofily smiled to you, he seemed like a character. The two men walked off as they chatted, rolling your eyes you too began to walk in the direction of your bedroom chambers.

you couldn’t sleep that night, you tried changing your nightgown, exercising, reading a book, meditating, everything! nothing would help you sleep this night, you wondered if it was the weird interaction with king Masaru or the fact your own fiance was when you think about it was cheating on you with your own staff members. you slowly slid out of bed and out of your silk sheets, rubbing your face up and down with your hands with frustration. Looking down at your feet you sighed, looking out of the window. the night sky was so peaceful unlike your mind which was running with less the pleasant thoughts. How could you get Katsuki to like you? or at least tolerate you in some way so he wouldn't be the most annoying little shit.

The creak of the door hinges squeaks as you pushed the heavy wooden door open, wincing at the high pitch noise. Slowly but quietly gou walked towards the chambers of your future husband. As you approached the door you hear two voices come from the inside

“you’ll need to learn to cherish and care for her eventually”

“why would I do that?” “She is your fiancé! Your future wife! Future mother of your heirs!”

“you except me to fuck her too? Shit.”

“Yes obviously! Your gonna need heirs for our kingdom!”

“fine. Before or after this whole wedding?”

“well In her kingdom, you two do that on the wedding night but to be honest I don’t really care when you do her”

“Too easy”

safe to say your whole face was pink, with either anger or arousal but you couldn’t tell

Tag list!

@sagejin @teeesthings @hiimsaraandyou

@peachysuguru @luvgumii

@v3n7s @iangeeluv

[dc-x-reader-stuff]

HusbandJason Todd x Reader head cannons please !!!

Husband! Jason Todd Hc’s

Jason Todd x Gn!Reader

My first time writing Jason stuff, AaAa - I hope it’s accurate to a good point. Like I said before I’m partial to Wayne Family Adventures Jason and a mix between him and the other versions of Jason’s I’ve seen on this app so I hope it’s acceptable- TvT

I’ve seen a lot of people be a stickler about the accuracy of Jason and have gotten genuinely angry if he was too nice or too angry or whatever so it’s all ahdjfnfjfn-

Anyways I hope you enjoy though- :DD

——————————————————————

The wedding the both of you have was small. Well, small-ish - there was a lot of people he wanted to invite, surprisingly, ranging from some close friends, to allies in the vigilante world, to his family. There were a lot of vigilante’s in their civilian forms at your guy’s wedding. Your side of the family was really surprised The Bruce Wayne and The Clark Kent was there without any paparazzi whatsoever.

(You and Jason were very careful about that. So was Bruce, especially for all the hell Jason went through when he was younger. They may be on better terms now, but he still felt he had a lot to make up for. Jason is completely fine with that - to a point, of course.)

The honeymoon? Nice and calm vacation to a small town near Smallville. Jason and you wanted a getaway for just eachother, without any stresses of vigilante stuff, or villains to inevitably interrupt that.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, his siblings were also keeping a very strict routine of ‘DO NOT CONTACT JASON OR Y/N UNLESS IF IT IS A DIRE, DIRE EMERGENCY’

Trust me, if it was two dires you both would’ve had to come home.

Luckily that didn’t happen.

Now, married life back in the city was a whole other thing to get used to.

You two have already lived together for the past couple years beforehand. You two have already dealt with your fair share of strains in the relationship, and still do to some degree. But luckily over the years before marriage you guys found a way to deal with that in a healthy way.

You prioritize healthy coping skills. So does Jason.

Even your respective therapists do. (Harley Quinn helped you both find ones qualified for your respective traumas. Very hard task, but Harley has a bit of a soft spot for Red Hood both in and out of the mask. She’s pretty chill with you too.)

Jason has his bouts of anger. Never, ever takes it out on you though, ever. Hell no. You guys have a punching bag for that. Sometimes you both use it together if you guys are venting about your day! Very cathartic and nice to bond with.

He teaches you how to fight. Just in case. You hate using weapons but he helps you get more comfortable, and you guys go over plans in case of break-ins, kidnappings, ect.

Especially if someone decides to burgle your cat.

You guys have a black cat you guys found in an alleyway a year into dating. He is your guy’s son that you decided to name Robin. Jason didn’t like the name at first, especially since you not-so-subtly alluded it to be reminiscent of his Robin days, but over time it stuck.

Robin is a nice and very sweet kitty. No one messes with Robin and you have thrown hands after someone broke into your apartment once to steal him. That was also during the time you moved in with Jason, he freaked out when you called him after the break in. Thoroughly impressed you managed to beat up the intruder but he cares about your’s and your cat’s safety - you moved in not long afterwards.

Reading and drawing dates - you guys, even into your marriage, go on small dates like these that don’t require too much thought or money. Sometimes you go to the park, or if it’s raining to your guy’s favorite café, with your favorite books (and sketchbook no. 173637294 for you specifically), and just enjoy your times together.

You guys do it at home too, but it’s fun to dress up and get out of the apartment for those kinds of dates.

Your home, despite all the weapons he has hidden around or on ‘decorative’ display, is quite cozy too!! It’s your safe space and you want it to exude that energy all throughout. Jason likes figuring out where decorations and furniture should go with you, it’s his favorite thing that gives him a sense of normalcy with you.

Also the banter between you two is fun. Smartass after smartass remark leaves you in stitches with laughter. Especially if it’s late at night and you both are loopy from lack of sleep. (Jason has more practice with that but it still effects him to some degree.)

At this point being married, you’re used to his nightly activities too. Sometimes you stay up and make him his favorite food to the best of your ability (you aren’t too good at cooking, but you’re learning for the both of you, same as him). Other times you just order takeout and eat with him.

Sometimes you help with his injuries, other times you don’t. If they’re small and benign he’s able to do them himself, bigger ones have you worried and helping him.

You always make sure he has an icepack ready for bruises. He’s taught you how to stitch wounds up to, given the fact that you don’t have as much medical experience as him.

Also after his nightly escapades as Red Hood, you guys sit and have tea too!! Calms him down enough to sleep, even if some nights are harder than others.

He’s gotten better at coping with his PTSD, but as per the usual he does have his nightmares at times. You being there right next to him helps. And you help ground him back into reality. Be it cuddles, if he’s comfortable with them, or be it just sitting there next to him and talking to him about whatever’s on your mind until he’s laying back down to listen to you.

You guys switch between who’s big and little spoon.

Robin is always near you guys in some way during bedtime. One time you woke up to cat fur in between your’s and Jason’s heads before. Robin doesn’t understand personal space at all but you guy’s love it all the same.

Speaking of which, he’s a natural born shoulder kitty! He will jump on your shoulders when the offer is available. Sometimes he scares the crap out of the both of you though whenever he’s being frisky, though. But normally Robin’s smart enough to do it when you two are aware that he’s there. He learns.

On your harder days, Jason makes you breakfast and makes you tea just like you do for him. He always asks you what you need, what you’re comfortable with. Some days it’s cuddling, other times when you don’t want to be touched you just tell him you want him near only. He knows that’s when he can just sit beside you on either the couch, table, barstools or bed and just read while you listen and watch your guy’s favorite shows.

You guys also have nights where you guys have watch parties too.

Sometimes his siblings join in too, bringing food from Alfred as well. It’s fun, and annoying for Jason at times, but still great nonetheless.

You guys visit the manor when needed, or during holidays too. Hanukkah, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, certain Galas, birthday parties, ect.

Sometimes you guys both just visit to mess with his siblings and Bruce. Cause some chaos a bit, that sort of thing. It’s fun.

Also you guys have gossip dates.

Be it about vigilante drama, co-worker drama, customer drama, family drama, villain drama, you guys will gossip and when those dates are at home Robin the cat will put his two cents in as well. He’s as vocal as he is sweet. Which is very.

And sometimes you record when Jason and Robin have conversations. Neither of you guys can understand the cat’s meows but it’s so fun interpreting it and seeing your husband have a full on conversation with the cat. You send it to the group chat you’re in with all the siblings and he never hears the end of it for the next few patrols. Sometimes Dick and Tim and Duke want to know what the tea is between Jason and the cat and he always says “That’s between me, my spouse and my cat, not you three.”

You inevitably tell them anyways, as well as Cass, Steph and Barbara.

Also Damian loves Robin that cat. He requests play dates between his pets and yours. You always cave for the kid, much to Jason’s dismay. But then again, he caves for him too. He always does.

Speaking of kids, I don’t think you guys will necessarily have one for a long, long while.

You guys agreed that you have to be absolutely sure and ready. Financially, mentally, emotionally, physically, mentally. Kids are a big responsibility and neither of you want your kids to ever grow up in an unsafe and unstable environment.

When you guys are ready though, which won’t be for a long while, I’m sure you guys will pull a Bruce and adopt or foster kids. Teenagers first, along with their siblings if they have any. You’d never separate them from their siblings - hell, the both of you, along with some help from his family and friends, would track siblings down if needed.

Like I said though, that won’t be for a long while.

You two are perfectly content in your save haven apartment with your lovely black cat Robin.

Besides, if you guys had kids early, Robin would be jealous and attention starved.

Neither of you would want that.

[mrsparrasblog]

You're losing me pt.1 POLY 141 x F, Reader

TW: cheating, hurt no comfort, heavy angst, dubious consent, there will be a happy end in the last part dont worry

pt.2

The most important thing about a POLY relationship was trust, and you knew you could trust them with all your heart. Kyle was so devoted to you that the mere thought of sleeping with another woman made him sick to his stomach. John was so full of loyalty towards you that he would never do anything to destroy your trust. Simon would rather kill himself than hurt you, the man who didn’t even dare to sleep with you for the first three months, afraid of hurting you should cheat on you? Never. And Johnny, oh your Johnny, was the sweetest of all of them. He took you on all these dates, introduced you to his family, and not a day went by without a compliment, nor a return from deployment without a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

So why do you still feel jealous sometimes? John reassured you over and over again that it was normal for you to feel jealous. He reassured you that nothing was happening while they were on deployment; they had each other for the fun stuff but definitely no other females; that spot was reserved for you, and only you.

Still, when you saw the new medic, you were so close to puking your guts out. She was beautiful, so stunningly beautiful and cool. A field medic is more in understanding with their branch than you with your job as a teacher. "Don’t need a medic, love," Simon reassured you once again, "we love that you're soft and not so rugged of war." Kyle immediately asked if he should stop talking with her outside of missions, and there you had your safety and reassurance.

Two months you spent without them; their last tour took a bit longer than expected. When John surprisingly texted you yesterday that they were back, you couldn’t contain your happiness. Unfortunately, you didn’t have time yesterday evening since you worked late, but you were eager to surprise them today on base, even though they thought you were only coming Wednesday. But hey, they’d be happy about the surprise. So you baked their favorite goods, put yourself in a cute outfit, and went on base.

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

Johnny woke up with the worst headache of his life. He didn’t even remember drinking that much, only a few pints. Normally, he was more resistant. He felt a warm body around him and hair all over his face. He didn’t remember bringing you home yesterday, but yesterday was very blurry for him anyway. But he couldn’t complain; he missed you so much. When he nuzzled inside your neck, he smelled a different perfume than usual. It didn’t smell that great, but that's not something he’d say to you. Maybe he’d buy you a bottle of your favorite perfume as a present. The hair felt slightly different too, and your figure, did you change really so much in two months? When he opened his eyes and saw her, he couldn’t believe this. This must have been a dream, a bad dream. He looked down and noticed her lack of clothes under the blanket. "Fuck," he cursed out as he jumped out of bed, waking up the medic.

"What’s wrong, Johnny?"

"Don’t call me that; only she and SI can."

"You didn’t complain yesterday when I moaned it," the medic said with a teasing smile, grinning like a kid on Christmas.

"Don’t tell me we…" he pleaded.

"Of course, we did, Sweetheart."

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he screwed up. How could he do this? Where were the others? Why didn’t they stop him? How would they react? God, they'd kill me. No, she won’t. She will look at me with this disappointing glance.

As if the situation wasn’t worse enough, the guys walked in, looking at her standing completely naked. Kyle turned immediately around, but John looked knowing exactly like Ghost.

"You have 5 seconds to explain yourself, Soap," John grunted out, his hoarse voice sounding even deeper than usual.

"Oh, Johnny and I just had a bit of fun, Cap. Don’t worry; we can still go if you want to," she smiled brightly, her hand running over Price's clothed abs.

He pushed her away. "The only thing you're going to do is shower and leave."

She didn’t move. "It’s an order, not a suggestion, soldier," so she went to the shower, leaving the four men alone.

Kyle was on his way outside. "Where are you going, Sergeant?" Ghost asked.

"Telling my girlfriend that that bastard cheated on her. You don’t deserve her, not even a bit."

"Your girlfriend?"

"You won’t tell her a thing."

"You don’t get to decide that, Ghost," Kyle almost spat out.

"Ah, really, didn’t remember a thing."

Kyle went to him, grabbed him, and pushed him into a wall. "You fucking idiot, you ruined everything just because you couldn’t control your fucking cock."

"Stop."

"Aren’t you happy about it, Garrick? Now you have her alone like you always wanted?" Ghost asked, challenging the man who hurt his Johnny. He thought there must be a logical explanation for this; Johnny loved you; he wouldn’t do that.

"I said, fucking stop," John screamed at everyone.

You heard a lot of screams around the base. When you finally went to the room of Johnny and Kyle, you saw everyone there around, fighting. "So that’s what you do when I'm away to keep you in check," you hummed, chuckling a bit.

They looked at you in horror. Instead of the usual running towards you from Kyle, the picking you up from John, or the thousand kisses from Johnny, they just stood there in shock.

"Everything alright, boys?" you asked, letting the cupcakes rest on the table you baked for them.

"Love, look—" Kyle started but got stopped by Simon.

And from that moment, it went downhill. You noticed a flashy pink bra, definitely not your size, so far from your size that you were confused. "Whose is this?" you picked it up, and no words came out of them.

"No…" you already thought about the worst, but you wanted to give them a chance. Maybe it was a damn coincidence, Johnny's sister visiting or anything like that. The doubt went away in a second when she walked out of the bathroom, completely naked. "Oh, you're still together."

"Who of you?" you begged that they didn’t say all.

"I was. I'm so sorry," John said, his face looked apologetic, while the others looked surprised at their captain.

"It’s over," you muttered, trying not to cry to save you at least a bit of dignity. You were so stupid to trust them like that.

"Love, no, please," Kyle begged while Johnny and John were just silent.

"With all of us?" Ghost asked, wounded.

"You all knew it, and no one told me that John slept with that slag."

"EY!"

"Shut up," Ghost barked at the medic.

"I swear to you, I wanted to tell you," Kyle pleaded.

"Well, you didn’t, did you?"

"No, love, wait."

"It’s over," you asked out of the door, shutting them down from following you. "Let me the fuck alone."

"Let her go," John said to his men and they listened.

Back in the comfort of your own home, you allowed yourself to cry, holding your dog Winston till you felt in an unpeaceful slumber.

[angelltheninth]

Can I request for blue eye samurai bodyguard Mizu with fem reader nsfw headcanon please?

Ah bodyguard Mizu! I love that au so much!

Pairing: Mizu x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, bodyguard au, secret relationship, fingering, hickies, biting, possessiveness, teasing, protectiveness

A/N: Oh she can guard my body alright. Any time of day or night.

Bodyguard!Mizu always covers your mouth when you have sex because as much as she loves hearing your moans she does not want to get caught. It also comes from a place of possessiveness and the selfish desire for your moans to be only for her. When she gets really rough with you, and she will, she gets a lot of amusement from seeing you biting your lip to keep quiet.

Bodyguard!Mizu is perfectly stoic when doing her job and takes everything seriously. You’re the only one who sees her more mischievous and wild side. Takes her work seriously, she won’t ever allow you to get hurt on her watch. Most of the time she’s the one who accompanies you when you leave your home.

Bodyguard!Mizu takes risks in public, not when it comes to your safety but when it comes to sexual stuff it’s a different story entirely. When your relationship begins she keeps it to secret kisses and holding hands under the table but as you progress things start to escalate to her slowly moving her fingers in and out of your pussy, so slowly that it’s agonizing and can’t get you to come. But since you’re in public she doesn’t want there to be much noise so going slow and gentle is necessary.

Bodyguard!Mizu let’s you undress her when she’s inured, as well as it being one of the few times you get to take the lead. Given how many times she’s made you come you feel confidant in doing the same to her. It took her a while to be able to be completely naked in front of you, it took even more trust for her to be able to let go fully and allow you to touch her body and make her feel good.

Bodyguard!Mizu shows off in front of your would-be suitors. She can’t be a good bodyguard if she doesn’t make sure no one with shady intentions gets their hands on you. This can sometimes makes her recklessly challenge men to a duel and while she always wins she can’t do it without a few injuries.

Bodyguard!Mizu convinced your parents to let her stay in the room right across from you to supposedly make her job easier. You can never be too safe or know when someone will get the idea to sneak into a pretty woman’s room at night. She should know because she’s done it a lot since meeting you. This also makes it easy to go back to her room or even if she is found in your room she can give the excuse of making sure you woke up early and got dressed without some sneaking around your room.

Bodyguard!Mizu knows that she should hold back when she’s biting you or leaving finger marks on your hips or thighs or neck but she can’t help herself. Because of your station you don’t often reveal much skin when you go out so it’s not like anyone’s gonna see those marks anyway. It gets even more complicated when you keep encouraging her to leave more marks, she needs to pick between her horniness and her job, or her life.

Bodyguard!Mizu invites you to her training session on the gardens. Not that she needs an audience for them, however it’s easier to keep an eye on you if you’re with her. That and… she might get more motivated if she has you cheering her on. Although the eye fucking isn’t exactly helping her focus.

Bodyguard!Mizu begins to get more bold with her teasing late at night when you’re moaning underneath her. Or more specifically when her mouth is sucking on your clit and you’re torn between not wanting her to stop and wanting to embrace her against you. Won’t stop until she has your juices dripping down her face, then you can hold her all you want.

Bodyguard!Mizu easily gets wrapped up in her duties of protecting you and glares at the men wanting to marry you. Can get pissed off really easily because of this, both at herself and at them so when you offer to help her get rid of that anger by making her come so hard she forgets about anything outside of the bedroom she can’t help but feel lucky that she took the job she did.

[kromato]

Hey what's up it's me with a special interest in weapons and I wanted to share my thoughts about Nikto's machete (no that's not an innuendo for once)

Had a bit of a solo-mandela effect going on because for the longest time I thought it had a modified 'billhook'-like feature on the back of it for whatever reason (but smaller than what would be considered a traditional billhook, more like a hoof pick blade).

I kind of enjoy still HCing that it does have it because a) it looks kind of cool and b) a terrifying thought to think this man whips this giant intimidating blade out, flips it deftly in his hand to the hook side, just to sink it into flesh and yank people back in when they try to run. Also it allows me to think about a scenario where, resident karambit knife enthusiast Sebastian Krueger, can teach proper blade hooking techniques to our beloved plural man. Anyway back to the knife - It's like a cross between a coup coup and a bola? But has a cool flare like a Tapanga for his newer mwiii model. Also like a vintage Senegalese french machete, which were known for their high quality (might technically be the same thing as the coup coup, just with the locale specified I think, both entrenchment machetes). That curve also kind of reminds me of parangs but it's not particularly drop-pointed.

I HC Nikto as a very brutally pragmatic but particular man, so it doesn't feel too far off to think that he went out of his way to acquire something niche like that. Some kind of custom-made machete that fits his needs just right. The length of it, as well as the curved, ergonomic grip makes me think he's gotten it to do some serious chopping, so it's also probably heavy and weighted forward to make that easier when swinging. I don't see him as a flashy fighter personally, and though maybe it was a stylistic choice for the game devs/artists, I think it's a neat feature that speaks to his character. I do think it's made of hefty steel; weight is important in chopping knives, and though steel rusts, it's sturdy compared to a lot of other metals. Not to mention - I feel like oiling and caring for his weapons, machete included, would be a ritual source of peace for his sometimes loud and chaotic mind. Grounding when he can feel the weight and texture where his nerves aren't completely damaged, smell the oil, have tangible proof that it's reality when he sees the maintained blade even after he becomes unmoored.

Now this is just me WAY reading too much into it, but it gives me a little giggle - The hole at the end of the handle is for a wrist lanyard, so you can loop a piece of paracord rope to secure it around your hand. It's an important safety feature just in case the machete goes flying out of your hand while chopping, lest it hit people in your vicinity (accidentally...?). In his 19 model, he doesn't have the paracord rope attached; Nikto says "Fuck your safety" but also huge ego of "I would never accidentally fling my knife!!"

Could also be because it gets caught on stuff if it dangles off his hip though - he's got one on his newer model where he wears the blade on his shoulder, which looks like a place where it's less likely to snag on things. Could also be because he's been increasingly featured in larger factions, so he works with more people and was asked to have one on hand maybe?? I don't know. In either case the knot in the middle of the rope makes it too small for his wrist which could also be read as a passive-aggressive "Here's the fucking safety rope it's on there ALRIGHT" and yet he's also made it nonfunctional for its intended purpose lmao Okay that's all byeeee

[wileycap]

PALPATINE: My dear boy. The only thing that we are discussing right now is what you want.

ANAKIN: Hm. Okay, world peace for Padmé, a Best Jedi mug for Obi-Wan - no, that's not me being bitchy, he literally will not accept a bigger gift...

PALPATINE: Yes, you shall have it all. Just -

ANAKIN: Oh, I'm not done. A billion... no, you know what, a trillion credits for Ahsoka, rights for the clones plus backpay and overtime for the war, full rights to their own genetic code, a special vode-only tribune that will investigate Kaminoans and natborn officers for sentient rights violations...

PALPATINE:

ANAKIN: ... slavery is to be abolished across the galaxy, I and any vode who want to join me will be sanctioned by the Republic to hunt down slavers, starting with Tatooine, hair cream for Windu - okay, that one is me being bitchy - and, well, I guess I'd want a fleet of the absolute best ships for me. As a treat.

PALPATINE: I see. Are you done?

ANAKIN: I guess. How soon can you deliver?

PALPATINE: Well. As it stands... it might... take some time.

ANAKIN: That's cool. You can get all the legal stuff done tomorrow, just call in a special session of the Senate, but I get that commissioning a fleet will take some time. I didn't even give you a list of models or anything.

PALPATINE: ... yes. I can't help but to think that you're disregarding your wife's safety here.

ANAKIN: Oh, no. I'm being smart.

PALPATINE: You are?

ANAKIN: Yup. Padmé is a completely healthy woman. Her pregnancy is very low risk. So, if she's going to die in childbirth, it's got to have something to do with the war, right? If we end the war, there's no danger to Padmé.

PALPATINE: Have you forgotten what I told you about Darth Plagueis the Wise?

ANAKIN: No, but if I use Sith Magic to save her, she's probably going to turn into a zombie or something. Trust me, Chancellor, I've seen it before.

PALPATINE: I'm afraid to ask, but where have you seen zombies?

ANAKIN: Eh, you can check my mission reports. Anyways, if you just hand me your credit chit, I can get to buying Obi-Wan that mug, giving Ahsoka the trillion and all that.

PALPATINE: Well, I...

ANAKIN: And if you don't want to go through with this, I'm definitely going to murder you right now. You being a Sith Lord and all that.

PALPATINE: Oh.

ANAKIN: Yeah.

PALPATINE: Well, here's my credit chit.

ANAKIN: Thanks, Sheev! Just one more question. What are you getting out of this?

PALPATINE: ... I'm going to declare myself Emperor and bring about the age of the Sith.

ANAKIN: Okay, that's cool.

PALPATINE: It... is?

ANAKIN: Sure. I mean, you basically are an emperor already, and we have freedom of religion. Just make sure that your Empire is strictly democratic, or else Padmé's going to be mad at me.

PALPATINE: I... what? The purpose of an Empire is to do away with democracy! Cut away the rot of bureaucracy!

ANAKIN: Chancellor, do you remember the conversation we had just now about me murdering you?

PALPATINE: Yes, but you hate the Republic too!

ANAKIN: I know, but work stuff can't come between me and Padmé. One of the rules of a successful marriage. Anyways, get it done. I gotta go buy a mug and some hair cream.

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

BREAKING NEWS!

PEACE! Supreme Chancellor / Emperor-Elect Sheev Palpatine has announced the immediate cessation of hostilities between the Republic and the CIS along with a slew of other groundbreaking proposals. The Supreme Chancellor stated that with the death of General Grievous...

The Coruscant Herald spoke with Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, also known as the Negotiator.

"I've got this mug." said Master Kenobi, before launching into a protracted rant about the state of our democracy.

"I got back from Utapau, and Anakin tells me that he 'kind of' turned to the Dark Side. How do you 'kind of' turn? But now we have galactic peace. But we also have an Emperor. Well, in three days we will have an Emperor. But the Emperor is going to have less power than the Supreme Chancellor has right now, and they're the same person. Not to mention that he's the Sith. My entire life has turned into a philosophical nightmare on whether the ends justify the means, and it's all being personified by this blasted mug." ...

Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo had a brief conversation with the Herald.

"Well, I think of it like a retirement present. A lifetime achievement award. He is an older man, and no doubt he'll abdicate in due time. This will be an interesting footnote in the history of the Republic." ...

Spokesbeing for the Shmi Skywalker Foundation, Anakin Skywalker spoke at length with our reporter.

"Well, we at the Shmi Skywalker Foundation offer only two things: freedom to slaves and death to slavers. And sometimes imprisonment to slavers, because Obi-Wan and Padmé were pretty adamant about that. And also financial aid, legal aid, housing, therapy, et cetera. For the freed people. So I guess we offer more than two things, but they're all good things."

"Sheev? Sheev is great. A nice old man. I think he's going to abdicate in, oh, three years or so? [Editor's Note: Transcript is garbled due to the Emperor-Elect coughing suddenly.] [...Yo]u need a glass of water, Sheev? Get him - yeah, one of you red guys, get him a glass of water. You're not a young man anymore, Sheev. Yeah, I think he'll abdicate within three years."

Emperor-Elect Sheev Palpatine declined to comment at this time.

[vrisrezis]

need a part 2 for the atsv love triangle where the reader is actually in love with them and after they get together they tell them about their alter ego 😩

Your wish is my command y’all!

Gwen is was carrying you, bridal style, swinging away with you in her arms. Not that you knew it was gwen anyway. Spiderwoman, upon meeting you, often decided to take you home as a means of protection, because for some reason you decided walking home in the middle of the night was a swell idea. She offered to swing you home as a result. If you didn’t know any better though, you’d say it was because she loved flirting with you so much. She never denied it when you brought it up. Honestly, she’s just not used to such a flustered look on your face, she can’t help herself. Though she does secretly envy how the real her can’t manage you make you all shy and embarrassed like that.

Today though, you seemed rather… off. Something was bothering you, and she could tell. Nothing seemed off at school, so she figured something had to have happened. “What’s got you so upset?” she questions before dropping down on top the roof of a building. “Somebody I gotta knock some sense into?” she asks, putting you down to stand next to her, looking at the scenery before you, it was nice out today. You smile, but even that feels forced. She can’t help but frown under the mask and the worry she carries is radiating off of her. You shake your head, “it’s nothing to worry about” you say before shrugging, “just normal highschool stuff.”

“What does that mean?” she inquired, and you sigh, albeit rather dramatically.” “It’s so stupid.” You admit, but before you can assure you it probably isn’t, you continue “there’s just this girl I really like. More than like. I think I love her.”

As soon as those words come out of your mouth, she feels her heart drop. Girl? Was it her? Spiderwoman? Or some other girl at school? You didn’t talk to many people aside from her, who could it possibly be?

“O-oh..” she says, looking down for a moment. She hopes you don’t hear the crack in her voice. She can’t help her curiosity, she needs to know. “Well.. who is it?” she says, trying to recover as quickly as possible. She nudges you with her elbow, “need to know if they’re good enough for you or just some tool.”

You laugh, and give her a smile. “Her names… gwen..”

“G-gwen?!” she shrieks out, her body stiffening. You don’t seem to notice.

“Yeah.. gwen… gwen stacy…”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but she eventually grabs onto your shoulder.

“Y/n…”

“Yeah?” you ask, confused for a moment, before you see her pull at her mask. Your eyes widen, and you suddenly feel a wash of shame upon seeing who’s under the mask.

However, she gives you a smile.

“I… love you too… by the way..”

Miles had a very simple plan, no big deal at all. All he had to do was confess he was in love with you and then eventually down the line if it works out in his favor, confess to being spiderman. No big deal…..

Or should he do it in the opposite order?

And should he still confess to being spiderman if you two end up staying friends when you reject him?

He has a lot of questions racking his brain, and to be fair he doesn’t think it’s completely unreasonable. Maybe he should’ve told you from the start. Would you even be accepting? Supportive? He’s been lying to you for a whole ass year now, you were kind, but were you that kind? He feels like there’s just no way, right? Then again, you never failed to surprise him.

He doesn’t have time to think about these questions any longer though, as he hears chaos going on outside. Not the normal kind of chaos, this was his cue.

His confession would have to wait a little longer.

—

He’s quick to his feet. Not that spiderman didn’t give it his all when it came to saving civilians, but he saw you in the fray. He bounces from building to building, webbing civilians to safety along the way, he sees you fall and he’s never jumped so fast in his life.

He reaches his hand out to yours, and finally you’re able to grab on and he’s able to pull you into his arms, picking you up bridal style all while in the air.

“We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this..” miles mutters to you, and you chuckle lightly. “Yeah well..” she look off to the side, before looking back at him. “You could always take me on a date, miles.”

Miles?

Date?

“Excusemewhatnow?”

as soon as he lands, you manage to escape his grip. Maybe it was because he was so caught off guard, since normally escaping his grasp was near impossible.

“We’ll talk later!”

You were going to be the death of him.

Hobie had enough.

If you weren’t going to figure this out on your own, he was gonna have to tell you.

I mean seriously, he loves you but you are so clueless sometimes and he genuinely wonders if you admire spiderpunk so much that you don’t want to consider he could be your best friend. He wonders if he’s being selfish and if this ruins the imagination for you but at this point he’s too pent up to even care, something he isn’t used to being. He’s typically so honest about the way he feels, never holding anything back. This should be no different.

He leaves his bag zipper carelessly open, in hopes you find it. And you do. He’s busy cleaning up his guitar, but he sees you look at him, then look back at the spider suit in the corner of his eye.

But you say nothing.

You go on about your day like you didn’t just see that.

Is he the one being played?

He eventually decides he needs to simply confront you. There’s no way around it. So he does.

It’s one of those many nights where you two are hanging out, as friends do. You’re both lying on his bed, side to side, he’s writing a song, you’re reading a comic book. He turns over on his right side to look at you, and you do the same on your left side. “Hey.” he whispers, “hey yourself.” you whisper back with a smile. He rolls his eyes.

Just be cool, man. He tells himself.

“You know..” he starts slowly, a bit unsure of the next words that will come out of his mouth, “you know I’m spiderman, right?”

He doesn’t have time to dwell on just how casual that was, to drop some information like that so simply. Then again, he did that constantly. This felt so different though.

“Yeah..” you let out a sigh, and hobie realizes that you really were playing with him the whole time. But before he can rely, you say “you know I’m in love with you, any version of you, right?”

He feels his heart stop for a moment, but he gives no indication that he’s flustered by your words.

“About damn time you said somethin, darlin”

Pavitr thinks about it, over and over and over and over and ov-

He just doesn’t know how to tell you he’s spiderman. He’s been so buys living the life as spiderman, it felt so simple, so easy. Go to school, beat up some bad guys, take some breaks to see you and his auntie, go back to fighting, come home. It was the same everytime and he didn’t seem bored of it, yet.

He hadn’t really gotten to see the consequences of being spiderman.

And then he did, when he nearly lost you. He was only able to save you because miles, gwen, and hobie were there to help him.

And from then on he knew he couldn’t lie to you anymore.

Things have been.. weird lately, to say the least. Some weird ass dark black abyss in the middle of mumbattan left many civilians curious, including yourself.

Though Pavitr felt like he could explain those bits later, he knew he just needed to tell you what was on his mind.

Because he and you both knew, he had something to say.

Spending time in your room wasn’t a rare occurrence but Pavitr found himself doing it a lot more lately, which in your opinion was good given how busy he’s been lately. You figured he must’ve been freaked out by mumbattan nearly falling apart at the seams, and you tried to be there for him. He made it clear he was there for you, too.

“Y/n I have to tell you something.” he says, turning to look at you.

You look back at him, knowing this would be a serious conversation. He never called you by your actual name, usual nicknames. You nod and place your hand on top of his, and you give him one of your warm smiles. He feels heat rush to his cheeks, but for once he doesn’t let his nerves stop him. He moves his hand to intertwine your fingers together, “I’m…” there’s a pause, and you figure you have to assure him you know.

“You’re spiderman?” you ask, and there’s a moment he looks at you, shocked. His mouth is agape, and you can’t help but smirk. “You know?!” you scoff, “yeah of course I know pav I’m not an idiot!” you say with a laugh, and a lot of his tension dissipates before he remembers what he wants to tell you.

“Well.. while that is true, that isn’t what I was gonna tell you.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, you raise a brow. “Yeah?”

He takes a moment, before blurting it out.

“I’minlovewithyou!” the words all come out jumbled at once and he almost considered repeating himself before you give him a kiss on the cheek. “In love with you too, pav. But I also knew that already.” you say cheekily, “what?! How?!” “You’re not exactly subtle” you shrug.

“Can I have any victory today? Can we start over and you just pretend you didn’t know?”

you smile and shake your head, and he groans.

But honestly, the only reason he’s being so silly right now is so he doesn’t absolutely melt into your hands like putty over the fact you kissed him on the cheek.

[13uswntimagines]

The Come Down (Alessia Russo X MMA fighter!R)

R is a very popular MMA fighter, and Alessia sees the parts of you that other people don't. Shes the one who gets to put you back together again after a tough fight.

Warnings: D/S undertones but no smut.

Author's note: This was super fun to write and i hope you enjoy it. Feel free to hit me up with ideas and comments and stuff.

You sighed, leaning your head against the stone walls of the Emirates tunnel, letting it soothe the twinges that always lingered after a long flight.

It was masochistic, but the ache that lingered the day after a war in the Octagon was always one of your favorite feelings, especially if you won. It helped you to compartmentalize the parts of yourself. It helped you separate the completely in-control fighter, the stone-cold monster that didn’t give a fuck about her opponents, and the human that lingered underneath. 

It was hard to punch a man until he was unconscious if you thought about how human he was. If you pictured his family and his life as anything other than an opponent for you to run through. But you never wanted that part of yourself to exist anywhere other than in the cage. 

The throb in your muscles and ache in your cuts helped you lock that part of yourself away. It helped you keep your grip on reality in all of the post-fight hormones until you could get to the grounding force that was your girlfriend. 

The post-fight come-down was always difficult for you, especially after a 5 round back and forth battle like the one you had just fought. 

You loved your job, you really did, but it was so easy to… lose yourself. To get lost in the anger of the UFC universe and the vitriol of your opponents. To get lost in the cycle of Training, listening to a man tell you he was going to destroy you at press conferences, cutting weight and beating the ever-living fuck out of someone while people cheered. 

Just being in the same building as Alessia had set you at ease, and watching her score 2 against Chelsea was even better. 

But the sound of the crowd had started to set you on edge. The way they erupted when your face, black eye, stitched gash on your cheek curving up to your forehead and all, appeared on the Jumbotron after your girlfriend’s PK had you clenching your teeth. It egged on the thoughts of murdering the keeper that had taken her out swirling in your brain, along with the desire to demolish the player who had so callously stepped on her teammate after a play. 

It was why you escaped to the tunnel, to gain some form of control over your thoughts. 

Maybe flying out as soon as you had been cleared by the medics wasn’t such a good idea, but you couldn’t stand being away from Alessia any longer than you had to be. You couldn’t stand being away from the comfort, love, and… safety she offered you. 

God, you sounded like a psycho. 

Or a submissive nearing the end of her rope.

6 weeks apart from your girlfriend was really doing a number on you. 

“Ay bruiser, fancy meeting you here,” Katie said, appearing in front of you with a wide smile. 

You flashed a toothy grin at the Irishwoman, ignoring the way it pulled at the stitches holding your cheek together. “Maccabe, always a pleasure,” 

She caught your arm. “That was one hell of a fight. Thought Less was gonna break my hand during the third round,”

You grimaced. 

The third round was the only one your opponent won. He had caught you with a big overhand right, opening the gash on your cheek and knocking you on your ass in the last 15 seconds of the round. The knees he had followed it up with to your side hadn’t been fun either. He had almost finished you, and you knew it had to be hard for the team and your girlfriend to watch. 

“My hand dipped when I tried to close the distance,”

It really was a game of inches, and he had certainly taken advantage of your small mistake. It was ok, you had gotten him in the end anyway. 

Katie made a sound of agreement, glancing at the tunnel behind you. “Certainly made us all nervous, but I’m happy you took his head off, even if it took you until the last 30 seconds of the fight,” 

She made a little kicking movement with her leg like a semi-recreation of the head kick you had used to end the fight. 

“Didn’t want to rush it,” You shrugged, nodding to the Arsenal girls as they passed you, unable to help the way you automatically searched each face for your girlfriend. 

“Ya missus is still signing for a couple of kids,” She gestured over her shoulder, a knowing smile still playing at her lips. “I can take you to her if you want?”

You shook your head. “I’ll wait here. I’m in no hurry,” 

You also didn’t think you could deal with the sounds of the crowd when your head was still pounding, a consequence of taking a flight with a concussion against doctor's orders you supposed, and you ached every time you took a step, every time you inhaled too deeply really. 

Katie’s eyes softened when she saw the emotions flit across your features. “Come on, let's go to the locker room instead. It’s away from prying eyes,”

She tugged your hand. You let her lead you deeper into the tunnel and into a room filled with wooden cubbies. 

It was nice to let your brain turn off, to just… follow along and allow someone else to lead you. 

“Hey champ,” Leah smiled at you as Katie deposited you in what you assumed was Alessia’s locker. “That was one hell of a fight last night,”

“Thanks,” You winked at the defender. “You guys had a fantastic game too,” 

“I’m not sure a football match compares to a man trying to punch you in the face,” Steph said, glancing at you from her spot near Lottie. 

You made a low sound in the back of your throat, feeling the tightness return to your chest. “But I don’t have people stepping on me after the bell,” 

“But you do end up covered in blood,” Kyra chirped. “We don’t have to worry about that usually,” 

“Most of the time it’s not mine,” You muttered, leaning further into your girlfriend's locker. Her perfume lingered in the cubby, and you let it soothe the frayed edges of your nerves.

You didn’t want to think about fighting. About the person. The savage. you were in the octagon. You toyed with the hem of your sweatshirt sleeve. It was slightly too long because it really belonged to Alessia. She had given it to you before fight week. 

It helped, but it wasn’t her. 

It hadn’t been enough after the fight, and it wasn’t enough now. 

You didn’t think you could wait much longer, but you didn’t have to. 

“The stadium is buzzin,” Alessia said slightly breathlessly, stepping through the locker room door. 

You were immediately on your feet, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “Less,” 

A grin instantly broke across her face, and she crossed the room in 3 long strides. Her arms wrapped around you, and without thinking you buried your face in her chest. 

It made the gash on your cheek sting and the tender skin of your jaw ache, but you didn’t care, pressing yourself as tightly to her as you could. She shifted, her nails running over your back with one hand as the other cupped the back of your neck. 

It was gentle, and grounding, and everything that you craved. 

“Hey baby girl,” She breathed into your hair, her voice dipping just a little and sending a shudder down your spine. 

She was like a ray of sunshine, always warm and sweet. It was why none of the fans would ever speculate about the positions that the two of you held in your relationship. They joked that she was too soft to be a dominant, but the people who understood how your relationship worked could see that her mix of firmness and warmth was exactly what you needed. 

She waited for you to pull away first, just enough to meet her eyes. “Hey,”

She leaned in and placed a careful kiss on your lips. “I’ll shower and then we can go, yeah?”

You deflated, your fingers tangling more tightly in her jersey. You didn’t want to let her go, even if it was just for a second. 

“You can come with me,” She said, a knowing look in her eyes. “And tell me all about fight week,” 

“Ok,” You agreed, only loosening your grip long enough for her to grab her shower bag and change of clothes, before you latched back on, holding the hem of her jersey tightly as she led you towards the showers. 

You felt a bit like a child, clinging to her, but she was like a buoy keeping you from drowning in the sea of your rocky emotions, and now that she was close to you, you couldn’t let her go. You were afraid that if you did, you would lose your grip on reality. 

The warm, wet air of the shower helped too. 

It reminded you of your post-fight routine. 

Win or lose you would stand under the hot steam of the stadium, washing off the blood and sweat from the octagon until your coaches pulled you out. It was part of the routine that you had skipped since the docs wanted to stitch your cheek as soon as you were out of eyeshot of the fans. 

Then you had felt so… off balance that you raced through a cold shower and hopped on a plane to get to your girlfriend as quickly as possible. You didn’t even stay for the post-fight press conference. 

“Come on love,” She said, pulling you into one of the stalls, sliding the first curtain shut behind the two of you, and bringing her face inches from yours. 

Her hand very gently cupped your cheek, mindful of the dark bruises that littered the skin, tilting your chin up. Her eyes searched you for a long moment like she was reading your mind. Like she was deciding what you needed from her. 

Her pointer finger very gently followed the long cut that ran under your left cheek, up to your temple, and just above your eyebrow. “I thought they usually put a bandage over stitches,”

Your eyes darted away from her. “I didn’t like the way it pulled at my skin,”

“I think you’d like it less if you got an infection,” She deadpanned, using her thumb to tilt your chin up further as she stepped into your space. “You wouldn’t be able to fight,” 

“But the scar would be worth it,” You shrugged, using all of your strength to muster up fake nonchalance. 

Her lip quirked upward. “Would it?”

You let your own smile morph into a playful smirk, despite the tremendous effort it took. “Chicks dig girls with scars,” 

“I think you’ve got enough of those, cheeky,” She hummed, leaning in and brushing the thick line that lived on the underside of your jaw with her nose. “I like it more when you come out without a scratch on you or a hair out of place,” 

You hummed, leaning back on the stall wall as her lips replaced her nose on your jaw, her teeth grazing the delicate skin as she made her way down the column of your throat and back up. 

Her hips pressed into yours, keeping you pinned to the wall, her thumbs insistent under your chin, keeping your head tilted up as her tongue slid pleasantly against your own. 

You sighed into the kiss, your fingers twisting into the material of her jersey, trying to pull her closer. 

Her thigh flexed between your legs, pressing into you, and you couldn’t help the way your hips rolled down to meet her. 

Or the wince that broke the kiss when the 

movement pulled uncomfortably at your ribs. 

“Babe?” 

You whined as she pulled away, blinking open to meet her burning blue eyes. 

“I’m ok,” You said breathlessly, trying to lean back up to kiss her. 

Her hand on your chest stopped you, as did the perfect arch of her eyebrow that screamed yeah right. 

Her fingers traced down your chest to the hem of your shirt. They crept under your top, meeting the tape wrapped heavily across your abdomen instead of smooth skin. 

Her eyes widened when she pulled up your sweatshirt, revealing the thick white bandages wrapped tightly across your stomach. 

“Want to try again love?” She asked, finally looking up at you with an expression that had a shiver tingling down your spine. 

“Just two cracked ribs and some nasty bruises,” You huffed, shifting uncomfortably when her fingers grazed the material. 

“Just,” She snorted, shaking her head, dropping your shirt, and standing up to her full height. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?” 

You shrugged. “I didn’t want you to worry. The stitches were already enough,” 

“I’d rather know and worry than accidentally hurt you,” Alessia said seriously. 

You looked away from her, swallowing hard. “And I knew you wouldn’t touch me at all if I told you,” 

“Baby girl,” She murmured, her voice going very soft, her thumb very gently ghosting over your uninjured cheek. 

She knew that the come down from fights was always particularly difficult for you. That the power that you held in the octagon always made you crave submission. You craved to not have to think, to just exist, and then to let your being relax in the aftercare that followed. 

This time the desire was amplified by the brutality of the fight. 

She could see you teetering on the edge, fighting the fog that always filled your brain, and while she wanted to scold you for withholding information, she knew that that wasn’t what you needed from her. 

Not when you were already dropping so hard. 

“Ok,” She said, keeping her voice soft as you leaned further into her touch. “I’m going to shower, and you’re going to be a good girl and stay right here for me, alright?”

You made a low noise in the back of your throat, and your eyes slid closed as you nodded very slowly. 

“Good girl,” She hummed, placing a very gentle kiss on your lips, and pulling away. “I’ll be two minutes love,”

You sagged against the shower stall wall. 

You could do that. You could wait 120 seconds for your girlfriend. 

You could and would do whatever she asked you to do because you knew it would help. You knew she would fit all of your loose pieces back together again and make it ok. 

You just had to exist.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Right person, Wrong time | Hopelessly Devoted to You Part 3

Summary: Part 3 to this. Elliot crosses a line, and you turn to Harry, once again.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, and domestic violence. Crying, cursing and alcohol too.

(previous part here) | (main masterlist)

“What?!”

His face was in pure shock, anger clearly bubbling inside him. He had clenched his fists beside him shortly after that, 

You looked down at your lap, staring at your nails. 

“Look at me”

He demanded, almost ready to get up from the couch and storm at you if you didn’t listen.

You tilted your face up, looking directly into his eyes as he fumed with anger.

You dreaded this moment for so long. Tell him that you were going for a divorce. Even though Harry told you it would be better if you threw the divorce papers at his face, but you wanted to do it in a more civilized way.

After all, he had been your husband for 5 years, and there was a child involved.

“Yeah…” you blurted out after a breath or two, and he shook his head, smiling.

“You’re kidding, right? This is just some…what do they call it? Prank. A prank to make me softer, huh?”

You shook your head in no.

“You’re divorcing me?!” he asked, as if that wasn’t the entire point of discussion, and the exact sentence you had started the conversation with.

“Yeah.” you sighed.

He got up from his place, taking long strides and coming to you, hovering over you.

“You’re going to divorce me? You’re nothing, Y/n. How the fuck did you get the balls anyways? Huh? You met someone when you went on that little camping trip with Ellie?”

You never suspected him to find that out.

“Oh, I knew it. Should’ve just locked you at home and I should have been to go with her. Who is that bastard anyway? Huh? Fucking brainwashed you into believing that you can leave me? ME?!” he yelled.

You flinched slightly but never broke eye contact. You knew you had to be strong right now if you wanted things to go your way.

“I will leave you. I am going to leave you. And I’ll fucking make sure I take Ellie with me.” 

And that was when he lost it. He raised his hand at you, aiming to hit you across the face with it, but you stopped him. Grabbed his hand immediately and pushed him away, and he fell on the floor.

And then, you ran for your life.

You ran to the nearest room, and immediately locked it, placing a chair for extra safety.

A few moments passed, and the house was completely silent. You had been witty enough to leave Ellie at your mom’s, and had told her that you were going on a date with Elliot.

It was the complete opposite of what was happening currently.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of a vase breaking, and you knew he was at the peak. He would have killed you if you had been outside right now. 

Vases, a couple of utensils, and then you heard the front door close and shut. Then, a few moments later, his car drove away.

You sighed in relief, unlocking the door to go back and clean up the mess he had made.

***

Harry was stressed.

He knew he had to figure out everything perfectly, before you applied for the divorce because he knew Elliot the asshole would appeal in a family court. And he never wanted him to get the custody of little Ellie.

He would fight his best to make sure you get all you deserve, and he is left with nothing. He would make sure of it, because you deserve nothing less than the absolute best.

Maybe this was the hopeless romantic in him speaking, but he would have it the same either way.

He was out drinking after work that night, sitting alone on the bar and taking small sips of his martini.

Another gentleman came in shortly and sat beside him. Harry gave him a once over, and he could tell he had been in a fight.

His nostrils were flared, face was full of anger. His knuckles were red too, signaling he had broken stuff.

“Spiced rum, on the rocks' ' he said, and the bartender behind the bar nodded, before turning around and getting his drink ready.

Odd drink for a Thursday night, Harry thought.

As soon as he gave him the drink, he drank it all in a few sips, without stopping, and placed the glass back, a little too harshly, immediately ordering another.

An alcoholic.

He saw Harry eyeing him, so he spoke up, “Something wrong, man”” he asked, the frown on his face consistent.

He shook his head, speaking to him as politely as possible.

“No–uh, nothing, I was just curious about your drink”

Normally, someone would stop the conversation, minding their own business. But, he wanted to pry.

“Something weird about it?”

He shook his head quickly, because the last thing he wanted, was to get in a fight with a stranger, who was an alcoholic.

“Hmm”

He grunted, and he drank 4 more of the same drink. He called for the check, and fished his wallet from his pockets. He pulled out his card, and placed it on the table.

The bartender was busy with someone else, so Harry got a look at the name on it.

“Elliot Harris”

Like Y/n Harris.

So he was the Elliot who he was going to fight against a couple weeks later.

Sweet.

***

He didn’t go home that night. Maybe it was because of the news you had shared with him, or maybe it was because he never wanted to see your face again.

But he did want to know where Ellie was, so he called his parents. They said they didn’t have her, so he figured she would be with your parents, and without a second thought, began to drive to your place.

All the while he was drunk.

Harry had called you as soon as he got out of the bar and asked a million times if you were okay. You assured him that Elliot didn’t hit you, just tried to. But you were safe from your monster of a husband.

He let out a sigh of relief, before hanging up, but he also told you that he was quite drunk, and had driven away in a haste.

He wouldn’t come home, you knew that.

And he would go to your mom’s.

You dialled her number as soon as Harry hung up, and told her to lock all doors and windows, and put Ellie to sleep. Elliot was drunk, and would definitely go there and make a scene, all of which would get recorded in the security camera she had outside, and that would help your case.

And by God’s grace, it turned out exactly as you had anticipated, and everything was recorded, how he yelled and threw stuff at your gate, telling her to give him her daughter back. Thankfully, Ellie was asleep, and your mom had also made her wear noise-cancelling headphones.

And the next day, you gave the footage to Harry.

“You think–this would help us?” 

You had been super cautious since the morning and kept the house locked at all times. You changed the lock too, so he would not be able to enter without you letting him in.

And then you drove over to Harry’s law office and gave him the footage.

He was so happy about it. Not only was he an eyewitness to all that had happened, but they also had proof that he was an alcoholic and was abusive.

Harry was going to win this trial. He was sure of it. But would his feelings for you also win?

***

The next day, you drove Ellie to school. She was scared of her father, you could tell. But she still had no idea what was going on.

You had brought her home the day after. Ellliot hadn’t shown up for two days, so you figured he was staying at a hotel, still angry at you about the divorce. Good for all three of you.

Ellie was sitting on the seat beside you, a look of seriousness on her face, contrasting to the happiness that used to be when you drove her. You were dreading that she was going to ask something, and you wished it wasn’t so bad.

 “Is daddy angry, mommy?” she asked, and your heart fell. She was so sweet and innocent; but seeing her father get angry like that must have broken her heart.

“Yes, cupcake. But that was nothing to worry about, okay? Daddy is not angry anymore”

You lied.

“But–but mommy, why isn’t he coming home, then?”

“It’s ‘cause he has work in some other city”

You hoped she wouldn’t ask what work he had, or what city he was in. But her expression was more of a confused one.

“But–but mommy! He came to pick me up from school the other day, with some uncle”

“What?!”

Your heart raced as panic seized you. Elliot had come to pick Ellie up from school? With a stranger? The thought sent chills down your spine, your mind racing with worst-case scenarios. How could he be so reckless, especially after what had happened between you two?

Maintaining your composure for Ellie's sake, you gripped the steering wheel tighter, your mind racing with emotions. Fear, anger, and a profound sense of protectiveness surged within you, fueling your need to shield Ellie from any harm.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to Ellie, your voice calm but firm. "Ellie, can you tell me more about this uncle–who came with Daddy?"

Ellie hesitated, her gaze flickering with uncertainty. "He was big, Mommy. And he had tattoos all over his arms. Daddy said he was his friend, but I didn't recognize him. I didn't want to go with them."

Your heart etched at her words. How could he do something like that? How could he put Ellie in such danger, exposing her to a stranger without a second thought? What if something wrong happened? You shook your head, not wanting your mind to think more about it.

Turning to face her, you reached out and gently squeezed her hand, offering her a reassuring smile. "Ellie, sweetheart, I want you to know that no matter what happens, Mommy will always be here to keep you safe. You don't ever have to be afraid, okay?"

She nodded, her little fingers holding yours, and you felt so sad while dropping her off. You wanted to hold her close to you and never let her go.

Ellie walked out of the car, and came running to the other side. She kissed your cheek, murmuring, “I love you, mommy,” before kissing you once again, and walking inside, fixing her backpack that was falling off one shoulder.

And as you watched her walk away, you couldn’t help but think about what he had done. That was insane of him, and you were not going to let him get away with this so easily.

***

Harry was engrossed in paperwork when you reached his office. His brow furrowed in concentration, his mind fully immersed in the task at hand. But as soon as his eyes fell upon you, his expression softened, and a warm smile graced his lips.

You entered his office with a gloomy and scared face, your shoulders slumped with worries.

"Y/n," Harry greeted, his voice laced with concern as he rose from his seat. "Is everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You took a seat opposite to him. Harry's presence gave you comfort during the chaos.

"I...I don't know where to begin, Harry," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"It's Elliot...he's...he's crossed a line, Harry. I'm scared for Ellie, for myself...I don't know what to do."

Harry's expression softened further, his eyes filled with empathy as he reached out and gently squeezed your hand. "Tell me everything, Y/n," he urged, his voice gentle but firm. "I'm here for you, whatever you need."

You opened up, telling him everything that your daughter had told you. His expression shifted as soon as he heard it all, his face now matching yours.

“I don’t know what to do, Harry. I–I feel so scared. Not for myself, but for Ellie. What if–wif, what if he took her away that day, Harry? What–what would I do, then? I–”

He got up from his chair, walking across the table and coming to sit by your side. He held your hand, tears welling in your eyes as you laid your head on his shoulders and cried.

"Take a deep breath, Y/n. We'll figure this out together," he reassured you. "I'm here for you," he said softly, his words a reminder that you were not alone in this fight. He was there for you, always. No matter how worse it got, no matter what happened.

“Thank–thank you, Harry” you said, and he nodded, stroking your back and trying to calm you down. 

Once you did calm down, you realized how close he was. Your head was now on his chest, right on his heart and you could hear his heartbeat thump in your ears. The two buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, and the smell of his cologne invaded your senses.

Your heart fluttered as you felt him pull your hair away from your face, his fingertips touched your face, and you almost melted.

But, this was wrong. Growing feelings for him was wrong. He was a good friend, who was willing to help you out of your disaster of a marriage without taking charge. It would feel like you were taking advantage of him, pulling him into your already fucked up life.

And he probably definitely had a girlfriend. Given how handsome and kind he was, there was no way he wasn't taken.

You cursed yourself for even thinking about him that way. It was wrong, selfish and doomed to end badly. It always does when you love someone. They leave, or end up hurting you. 

However, Harry felt differently.

This was the most close to him you had gotten, and he was on cloud nine. His hand was on your shoulder, soothing you while your head lay on his chest.

He was happy that he was the one you turned to for comfort. He felt comfort knowing that he was the person you went to when you felt unsafe. His heart felt happy, even though it shouldn't, given the situation you were in. 

It’s always the damned situation, isn’t it?

Right person, wrong time.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! please reblog or comment if you like, it makes my heart happy :)

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[buckybabieboy]

Heyy! I was reading you work, which I love btw, and I wanted to request a one-shot or blurb for little!bucky accidentally getting drunk, like how would he act, what would he say. I feel like he’d be super clingy and needy. With cg!mommy!reader please 🥹 Love you writing <333

Lol this is gonna be the cutest thing ever😭. Thanks for the request Babie!

Tipsy Baby.

☁️ Summary: Bucky has way too much to drink at Natasha’s party, leaving you to take care of your little boy.

⚠️TW(READ.): sub!touch-starved bucky, dom!fem!reader, Bucky is so touch starved😭, reader is able to carry bucky, lactation kink cuz I felt like it, mentions of alcohol, Bucky can get drunk if he drinks an abundance.

📝A/N(PLEASE READ): DO NOT READ IF YOU DONT LIKE. ITS THAT SIMPLE. DON’T REPORT MY WORK JUST BC YOU DONT LIKE IT. Anyways, pls enjoy this lil blurb! drunk Bucky is just the cutest 🥰. and your right, bucky is VERY clingy AND FUCKING TOUCH STARVEDDDD when he’s drunk.

“Mommyyyy!” Bucky slurs out as he dramatically falls in front of you on the compound’s floor.

“Mommy pay ‘tenttion to me!”

You peer over your phone and watch as your baby heaves and pants on the ground, his beautiful pale skin flushed with pinkish-reddish tones, and his big puppy dog eyes red and puffed.

“Baby, are you drunk?” You question him, though you already know the answer. He only whines and thrashes his limbs around in a hissy fit, not using his words.

“W-why are you so faaarrr?” He wails petulantly, completely ignoring your question.

“M’ not far, sweetheart, ‘m right in front of you.”

An empty bottle of Tiger Beer has accompanied him on the ground, clutched inside his sweaty palms.

“Gimme that!” You sigh before getting off of your comfy spot on the couch and snatching the bottle out of his hands. He whines even more.

“Who let you have this?”

Bucky pouts and mutters something, but it’s almost impossible to hear with the music and noise that flood throughout the compound.

“Can’t hear you bud, you’re gonna have to speak up f’me, okay?”

“T-tasha…” He hiccups. “N-Natasha lemme have some, mommy…”

Another exasperated sigh escapes from you as you begin to regret supporting Bucky’s idea to come to Natasha’s party. It didn’t really surprise you though, since he was always a party guy when he was younger. You rarely ever drank, especially when you were going to an event. You opted out of that a long time when the both of you got drunk, which you both know didn’t end well.

Natasha had invited everyone to her floor for a party. You weren’t too fond of the idea when you heard there was going to be alcohol, but Bucky was very excited and begged you to go. He assured you that Steve and Sam would be there to watch him.

So eventually you gave in, but not before making him promise that he wouldn’t drink.

When you arrived at the party, Bucky was acting more than normal. He immediately started chatting and playing party games with Wanda and Vision. He even played Twister with them, which you knew was a surprise to everyone. Despite the fact that loud noises triggered him, he seemed to be having a good time. Needless to say, you felt comfortable with letting him go off on his own for awhile.

Scanning the room, you spot Natasha by the fridge, a Tiger Beer in hand. The trash can next to her was filled with empty bottles of that stuff, and you knew they had to be Bucky’s. He couldn’t get drunk easily so it would take a copious amount of alcohol to get him drunk.

The blame wasn’t all on Natasha, though. Wanda, Vision, Steve, Natasha, and Sam all were made aware of Bucky and his little space—you’ve told them a numerous amount of times for his safety. So Natasha could’ve given him a bottle, but Bucky must’ve gotten his hands on this much alcohol all by himself.

You’d have to talk to them about that another day though, because right now, your little boy was cemented on the cold floor, spacey and dazed below you.

“S-so pretty. Mommy so pretty!” Bucky giggles, his head cocked to the side in awe as he gazes up at you. He wasn’t thinking about anything else. He literally couldn’t. His little brain couldn’t process anything while in little space, so him being drunk definitely amplified it X10.

“C’mon, baby boy. Let’s get you taken care of.”

You offer your hand to him. He doesn’t budge though, instead he whines, and mutters more incoherent sentences. This wasn’t the first time Bucky lost all of his words. When he was little, most of the time he would gesticulate instead of speaking up.

“Hmm…” You tap your index finger on your chin, prenteding to brainstorm. “Oh! I know what you want! You want uppies!”

Bucky nods and squeals, making grabby hands up at you. You place your hands under his arms, pick him up, and set him on your hip. A precious little noise escapes from him as he wraps his legs around your waist, his arms around your neck, and leans into your touch. The smell of your hair seemed to be the only thing he was able to process.

Once you make it to your floor, you set him down on the bed. He whines once again when you leave and you quickly shush him, reassuring him that you’re just getting his pj’s out for bed. Bucky stands up to take off his pants but stumbles and trips, landing face down on the floor.

“Hnnngh..” He whines, starting to pick up his thrashing and wailing from earlier.

“Hush, my little boy, let Mommy take care of you.”

“M’ dizzy…” He fusses. “Everything’s spinning…”

“I know baby, I know. Let’s get you in your PJ’s, okay?” You hush him a little bit before helping him off the ground and settting him back on the bed. It was a struggle, but you got his pants and shirt off. Now the task was to replace them with his nighttime ones. You take one leg of the pants, grab his leg, and slide it in.

“Good job, Jamie! Now your right leg!” You praise your little boy. He giggles when his pants are all the way on, and doesn’t even fuss when you put his shirt on for him.

“Perfect… now let Mommy get changed and then we can go sleepies, okay?”

He fussed, but you got changed in no time, and his fussing quickly became coos of happiness once you cradled him in your arms.

“My little baby.” You fawn. “Your mommy’s boy aren’t you?”

Bucky’s eyes flutter, as he tries to stay awake. His baby blues are glossy and clouded from the substance earlier.

“Mmm… uh-huh! M’mommy’s boy! Mommy’s goodest boy!”

“Yeah, except for earlier. What did I tell you about drinking that much alcohol? You know your little mind can’t take it.” You scold, and he pouts up at you.

“Sammy was watchin’ me! But then he drank some too, ‘n we-” His hiccups interrupts him.

“W-we made a stupid bet. Who could drink the mostest, ‘n I won.” He giggles at that last part, obviously proud of himself for beating Sam at literally anything.

You were about to respond when you noticed his eyes flutter. His metal fingers tug on your tank top—you already know what that means by now.

“Awh my baby’s hungry! You hungry, sweetheart?” You coo at him in the softest tone possible. He does nothing but nod, his words are becoming little to none—indicating that he was deep in.

“Go ahead, Jamie. You can have some, mommy doesn’t mind.”

You help him out a bit by tugging down the top yourself, your leaking tits out for Bucky to suckle on. He wastes no time, immediately latching his pink lips on your right nipple. His suckles were harsh and rapid. All he wanted right now was to taste your sweet nectar. A few strokes to the scalp and he’s almost out—his stamina completely gone from earlier.

You praise your little baby. Whispering to him all of the things he loved to hear. Calling him all of the names he loved to be called while in his little space.

The meekest whines and whimpers come from him as he suckled more frantically. As time went on he became frustrated—frustrated at the fact that he was too exhausted to keep going.

“Shh, it’s okay. I know… your so exhausted, hm? So exhausted from having so much fun earlier?”

You stroke his scalp with your fingers, keeping the movements slight and slow for him. Bucky could never describe it, but there was always a certain tactic, or pattern in which you’d scratch his scalp that made him feel so innocent. So vulnerable.

You know this, You know what touching Bucky’s hair does to him, what it does to him when he’s completely reliant and under your control.

“I’ve got you, Bucky Bear. Hush now.”

Bucky eventually quiets down, and so do his suckles on your nipple. He lets your nipple fall free from his mouth, some milk dripping down his parted lips. You wipe it off gently.

“Mommy m-mines?” He whimpers. “All mines?” He nuzzles himself into your chest, the warmth of your body and vibration of your voice as you cooed to him always calms him down.

“All yours, honey.”

[rafa-jaja]

Head canon Bruce Wayne x Gnreader

★ I hope you enjoy it

●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●○●

- Your life with Bruce is very good, you love each other and show affection at all times...but it wasn't always like that.

- You were the father figure of all Bruce's children, you were there from the beginning of Batman, healing his wounds and stuff, but the two of you were just friends.

- Yes, just friends, nothing more, not even friends with rights. You are Alfred's nephew and you are almost the same age as Bruce.

- Going back to the children, you are always there for them, you always have room to give them the love they deserve.

- When you met Dick your heart melted when you saw how sweet he was, but he was very reserved at first, you understood him, it was obvious how he behaved after all he had to go through. But slowly he opened up to you, feeling safe when you were by his side.

- With Jayson it was different, it was almost instantaneous the emotional attachment he had for you, but destiny had other things for him, his death was a very low blow for you, and for everyone in the mansion. When he revived and was on good terms with Bruce you were the first person he looked to and he became your little JayJay again.

- Tim was your lightning rod after Jayson, you even had panic attacks when Tim was captured by some villain, you always tried to support him in everything and guide him in the best way.

- Damian was more complicated, he was surly with his comments and was too sarcastic. You blame Bruce for that, but you cared about his safety anyway, on the other hand, he was your best friend's biological son, you found the way he was raised horrible, but he wasn't to blame.

- No one in the family could understand how you and Bruce were not a couple, you are perfect for each other. Most people who met you for the first time thought you too were husbands or boyfriends, but when the bombshell hit them that you were just friends they were completely confused.

- Bruce was in love with you, but he never told you, because he believed that such a good and full of light person deserved someone better than him.

- The funny thing is that you felt the same way he did, and you wanted to tell him but you chickened out because you thought you would just be a problem in his life and in his job as Batman.

- But...how did you end up together? easy, Bruce only had to be on the verge of death for you to be convinced that you can't live without him. It was a bit of a disaster, but in the end they ended up together.

- It didn't take long for them to get married, since they had known each other for a long time and had lived through many things together.