#but the second I try to write it out it just... dies in my brain istg

[memento-morri-writes]

whump wednesday - part iii

tw / tags: concussion, blood, bleeding out, loss of consciousness character: Rook (who else?) status: canon (took place several irl months ago as part of Rook’s first “Horrible, Very Bad, No-Good Weekend”.) wordcount: 525

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Another continuation from earlier. The party has now made it back to the Winters' manor. Having lost a lot of blood since being revived (on top of his concussion), Rook is in pretty bad shape. His mentor, Sigmar, is attempting to get him to the Winters' healers.

Rook’s eyes drifted closed, the oblivion of sleep calling to him. A sharp prod at his side dragged them reluctantly back open.  “Rook, you need to stay awake. Just a little bit longer, until a healer can have a look at you.” Sigmar’s voice was serious as he half-dragged, half-carried Rook down the hall of the Winters’ manor.  Rook groaned in response. He was exhausted, and every inch of his body ached. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and fall headlong into unconsciousness. Sigmar prodded him again. “Tell me what happened to you. How you ended up in this state.”

Rook thought hard for a moment. How had he ended up like this? He remembered Celestia, and healing the party, and then- Oh, right. He started to explain, his words running together as he spoke. “This werewolf guy showed up. Deadringer?” Sigmar’s body tensed but he said nothing. “And he wanted Warren. Warren and Cherry, I think.” He paused, trying to remember what had happened after that. “He… he wanted to hurt them. So I told him he’d have to go through me first. And he said ‘Deal.’ and threw me across the room. I… I think one of his werebeasts killed me.” He felt rather than saw Sigmar shake his head. “I should never have left you. If I’d known she’d bring Deadringer into this… I shouldn’t have let you go off to fight someone like him without me.” Once again, Rook was surprised at the weight of the emotion in his mentor’s voice. He wanted to say It’s not your fault. Or maybe, I would have done it anyway, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. So instead he just rested his head on Sigmar’s shoulder. The damp chill that had come over him on the way here was getting stronger and he leaned into Sigmar’s warmth. “‘S cold,” he mumbled. Sigmar picked up the pace a bit, a worried edge creeping into his voice. “Come on, come on. Just a little further.” Rook’s eyes were heavy, and his awareness of the world was fading. He heard a door open, was vaguely aware of a brightly lit, white-painted room, of being laid down on a bed. He could hear people talking urgently, unfamiliar voices joining Sigmar’s. His muddled mind only caught fragments of their words. “Concussion… Severe… Significant blood loss… Not enough… ”  Sigmar’s raised voice cut through the fog. “Help him, damn you!” It sounded very far away, as though coming from another room. Multiple sets of hands touched his skin, and the familiar warmth of healing magic (when had being healed become familiar again?, he wondered dimly) flooded his body. The cold, clammy feeling faded away. The constant pain he had stopped registering some time ago subsided, leaving blissful neutrality in its wake. His head cleared slightly too, blurred reality coming back into focus for a brief moment. Distant voices reached his ears, borne by that momentary clarity. “It’s safe for him to sleep now. He’ll be fine after some rest.” As if his body needed no further reassurance, Rook’s mind relaxed, and within seconds he sank into a deep sleep.

[quiznak-ofgrayskull]

Thinking about Tankhun being an older brother but like. Not being a good older brother (or at least not being the most stereotypical older sibling character). Like I'm probably projecting a little bit but there's something about watching your younger siblings grow up and not being able to help, or even know what's going on in their lives anymore. You love them but you'll never know them better than when you were tiny kids.

Like Tankhun probably doesn't regret giving his position as heir up to Kinn, actually. He probably didn't want Kim to move out, either. But he doesn't have any control over them, and he has to watch shitty things happen to them that he knows he could have prevented, or helped. And it's the fact that he could have more so than the fact that he would have, I guess is what I'm trying to say.

[charlottedabookworm]

#29 - Contravention

feat Rihnn

is this any good? no. does my brain like this prompt? no. am i running on sheer spite to just finish this month? yes

"I'm so sorry," the stranger in front of xem says, their hands on their child's shoulders, shushing them gently as they cry, red-faced.

Rihnn picks xemself up off of the ground gingerly, leaning against xir staff. "It was an accident," xe says and xir lips twitch in an attempt at a smile. "Here, I am a healer, let me help," xe tells them, gesturing at the child, pretending that the words are not ash on xir tongue.

The parent smiles at xem, desperately grateful, as xir hands flicker with aether that dances along the child's skin, soothing aches and closing scrapes.

The child, wide-eyed, laughs as if they are being tickled, their tears forgotten.

"Thank you," their parent says and they shift, as if to say more and-

"Good day," xe says with a bow of xir head and xe runs. Xe runs away as much as xir leg will allow, leaning heavily on xir cane and the bile the rises in xir throat is not only because of the fire that burns in xir thigh.

It is only when xe is far enough away from the village that xe stops.

Xe stops and xe collapses against a tree and xe wants to scream. Xir throat is tight and xir hands are shaking and somewhere in the village, Ianna Carver and the child she named for a brother she doesn't remember carry on with their lives and-

"We had a deal, Rob," Rihnn whispers. Xir eyes prickle painfully. "I was supposed to bring you home to them."

It should have been xem...

[rottingghosty]

Little Talks | DC X DP

part second part to the ghostling au !! this is just something to give you guys food while i write the fic

also usual errors will be made im only one person blah blah. hope you enjoy, as usual this is scheduled to post at 7am

☁️☁️☁️☁️

Danny lazily blinked at the person in front of him, his brain slowly rebooting itself as he released a small yawn. The person was green. A green person. Huh. Alien? He was exhausted, he spent so long aiding new systems and cradling stars that died and spread their dust around so they would be reborn again. He wanted to sleep but this person was in front of him and it’d be rude to ignore him. Pandora taught him better than that.

“Mrrp?” Danny felt his ears twitch, he wanted to feel mortified at the fact he made a sound like a cat in his own head but he really can’t be blamed because the moon he was around was really comfortable and he had no shame. He lazily tilted his head as the person’s shoulders seemed to loosen? A shake in his body. Weird.

Oh. He’s trying not to laugh at Danny’s response. Can Clockwork rewind so that didn’t happen. Of course CW ignored him like usual when it came to embarrassments like these.

“I do not mean any harm friend.”

The voice in his head echoed and it made Danny shiver in response, it was odd sharing a head space with someone else. He didn’t retaliate or cause any harm. His core could feel that this person was friendly, curious and respectful. He gives a head tilt in response.

Friend. Safe. Okay.

Danny gave another yawn, feeling his jaw open a tad wider than it should in normal human circumstances but who could care less when he has a Martian— an actual martian in front of him even if he’s too sleepy to actively be excited! He’s tired okay, it’s not everyday he gets to indulge on his obsession heavily on an everyday basis. He’d been so deprived that he’d gotten sick and it’s what made the others decide to give him the boot so he could enjoy his time before he got the crown.

“What is your name, little one?” Martian Manhunter softly asked in Danny’s head after the younger one winced from the volume earlier after he began to wake up.

“Danny.”

“Why are you out here?”

“Old man said I needed my enrichment.”

“One of my allies called you a baby ghost of the Infinite Realms, is this true?”

Danny released another cat like sound, this one more curious than the other when he had just barely woke up. Someone knew what he was? How curious, it wasn’t often Danny stumbled in dimensions that knew he was from the Infinite Realms… much less the fact that he’s even a ghostling.

“Mhm, ghostling is the proper term. We usually calculate age by how long we’ve been dead. In ghost terms I’m like three.”

Martian Manhunter seemed to pause, as if listening to something. Danny gave another yawn before he finally decided to change into a more normal size instead of the large form he had used to travel through the void easier. His form shifted in a bright light before he floated over to Martian Manhunter.

He quickly realized he was a lot smaller than he’d been and he supposes this is what CW meant when changing forms, he’d most likely reflect the age he’s in ghost terms. He doesn’t think he’d handle if Martian Manhunter treated him like a kid.

“When you said enrichment…?”

“Oh! Clocky said to play nice with my cousin? I think her name is Wonder Woman? Um he’s ah known as Chronos?”

[yokumirumerafan]

DS x reader (you accidentally sent a nude to them)

I did this with MHA boys and it's Demon Slayer turn!! Hope you enjoy <33

Hashiras:

🔥 Rengoku ("EXCELLENT FORM, Y/N!— Wait, what is this?!")

He’s literally mid-bite into his food when he sees the notification pop up on his phone. He casually opens it, expecting something completely normal—AND THEN HE CHOKES. Literally almost dies. His brain freezes, and in a reflex, he blurts out, "UMAI!" before realizing WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST SAY?!

After a full minute of staring, contemplating life choices, and sweating, he finally texts back:

"Ah, my love, is this the dish you intended to prepare for tonight?" 😳

(Translation: "I don’t know how to respond, so I'm pretending this is normal.")

🌊 Giyuu (internal crisis mode activated)

Giyuu opens the message, blinks once, blinks twice, then freezes like a Windows XP shutdown screen.

"Y/N… what the fuck… I’m at work."

BUT HE DOESN’T DELETE IT. Oh no, he saves it. But in his brain, he justifies it like, "Well, I’m her boyfriend, so it’s fine, right? I have a RIGHT to have my girlfriend’s photo, RIGHT?"

And now, he can't focus on his work because every time someone calls his name, he's thinking, Did they see? Do they know? Am I a disgrace to the Water Hashira name?

🌪 Sanemi (throws phone across the room)

The second he sees your name pop up with an image, he instinctively opens it. Big mistake.

He YEETS HIS PHONE ACROSS THE ROOM so hard it leaves a dent in the wall. "WHAT THE FUCK—"

After five minutes of pacing, running a hand through his hair, and cursing at thin air, he tiptoes over to pick up the phone, glances at it again (while muttering "just one more time"), and then saves it without thinking.

Two seconds later:

"You’re an idiot. But a fine-looking idiot. I’ll be teasing you about this forever."

And he DOES. Every chance he gets.

🎆 Tengen ("Flashy, but could use better lighting.")

Tengen examines the picture like a fucking ART CRITIC. His first thought isn’t "Wow, Y/N is hot." No, no. His first thought is: "This needs better lighting."

He literally squints at the screen, analyzing it like he’s about to write a professional review. Then he texts back:

"Next time, use the other lingerie set. And honestly, the lighting is a bit off—try positioning yourself near a window. Flashy things deserve proper presentation, after all."

His wives: "EXCUSE ME???" 💀💀💀

☁️ Muichiro ("Why would you send this? Oh well.")

He opens it. He blinks. He turns off his phone. He puts it in his pocket.

Five minutes later… he takes it out again.

He opens it one more time. He blinks again.

Then, without a single ounce of emotion, he saves it and deletes it five seconds later like he’s playing some kind of weird self-control game.

Finally, you get a text:

"Not sure what you want me to say."

💖 Mitsuri (blushes so hard she faints)

Poor girl. She literally malfunctions. As soon as she sees the image, she lets out the cutest little squeak and FLINGS HER PHONE.

She tries to calm herself down by drinking tea but her hands are shaking. She tries to breathe but her lungs are malfunctioning. She tries to text you back but her fingers won’t work.

Eventually, she FAINTS.

You don’t get a response for HOURS until she finally texts:

"OMG Y/N I DIDN’T EXPECT THAT BUT WOW YOU’RE SO BEAUTIFUL BUT ALSO OMG I THINK I DIED FOR A SECOND???"

🐍 Obanai (stares in judgment but secretly combusts)

He reads the message. His face doesn’t change. His expression remains 100% deadpan.

But on the inside? His soul is burning in hellfire.

He grabs Kaburamaru, his snake, and just whispers, "What do I do with this?" 💀

Finally, he texts back:

"This is highly inappropriate."

...And then IMMEDIATELY follows up with:

"Not that I dislike it. Just saying."

Main Trio + Genya:

🐉 Tanjiro (IMMEDIATE APOLOGY TEXT BACK)

The moment he opens the picture, his soul leaves his body.

He panics so hard he starts BOWING TO HIS PHONE.

Then, he starts typing like a madman.

"I'M SORRY! I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEE THIS, I SHOULDN’T HAVE LOOKED, PLEASE FORGIVE ME, I RESPECT YOU, I WILL DELETE THIS, I AM UNWORTHY—"

⚡ Zenitsu (NO THOUGHTS, JUST NOSEBLEED)

Zenitsu SCREAMS. FAINTS. DIES. REVIVES.

Then he saves it.

Then he faints again.

Then he texts you:

"Y/N. I'M NEVER LETTING GO OF THIS PHONE."

(Tanjiro beats his ass immediately.)

🐗 Inosuke (doesn’t understand but likes the colors)

Inosuke literally tilts his head like a confused puppy.

"Oh, this is that game you were talking about, right?"

He likes the colors and the angles, but he has absolutely no clue what he’s looking at. 💀

🔫 Genya (deletes and prays for forgiveness)

As soon as he opens it, his whole body shuts down. His face is redder than Sanemi’s rage.

He immediately deletes it like it’s a crime, but when you tell him it’s okay to keep it, he just…

"I… uh… I mean… uh… I— ERROR 404 GENYA NOT FOUND."

Upper Moons + Muzan:

🥊 Akaza ("RESPECT WOMEN" mode activated)

He bows to his phone.

"I MUST NOT LOOK. BUT I MUST. BUT I MUSTN’T."

He puts the phone down and just stares at it like it’s cursed.

❄️ Douma (SAVING IT, ZOOMING IN, SETTING AS WALLPAPER 💀)

No hesitation.

SAVES. ZOOMS IN. SET AS LOCK SCREEN.

And then he texts you back:

"Mmm, lovely. You got more?"

(Y/N BLOCKED HIM.)

👁 Kokushibo ("Unnecessary." But is sweating profusely)

"Unnecessary."

But he doesn’t delete it.

🩸 Muzan ("Kneel." …Excuse me, sir?? 😳💀)

No words. Just one command.

"Kneel."

…HUH??? 😳💀

[xichilie]

OMG! I absolutely love you for the way you did my request of Mydei trying to court reader ❤️😭🙏

It was so silly and perfect and i couldn't stop laughing!!!

And now theres part 2???

youre a blessing dear author 🫶

I'm glad you enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing this ♡

Here's a part 3 ♡

Mydei x (fem)reader

Mydei courting reader (3)

Part 2

The streets of Okhema had grown quieter as the evening settled in, the sky painted in soft shades of purple and orange. The laughter of the children had faded, leaving only the distant murmur of the marketplace and the occasional chatter of passersby.

Y/N and Mydei walked side by side, their pace slow, unhurried. The excitement from earlier had died down, and now, a strange silence stretched between them.

For once, Mydei wasn’t speaking.

He wasn’t teasing her for losing, wasn’t boasting about his victory, wasn’t smirking at her like he usually did after getting the upper hand.

Instead, he was quiet.

It was… strange.

She kept sneaking glances at him, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. He was staring straight ahead, his usual sharp gaze slightly unfocused, as if deep in thought.

The memory of what happened just minutes ago replayed in her head—the chase, the cheers, the kids yelling about a reward, and then…

The kiss.

Her cheeks warmed just thinking about it.

She didn’t even know why she did it. It just felt like the right thing to do. Mydei had looked so composed, as if he hadn’t been flustered at all, and for some reason, that had annoyed her. So she acted on impulse, tugged him down, and kissed his cheek.

And then he turned bright red.

Just the thought of it made her lips twitch, but at the same time, guilt crept in.

She sighed quietly, lowering her gaze.

“…Sorry.”

The word slipped out so softly, she wasn’t sure he even heard it.

But then—

He stopped.

Y/N felt it immediately—the shift in the air, the sudden lack of movement beside her. She turned, only to see Mydei standing still, brows furrowed, watching her with open confusion.

“…What?” His voice was quieter than usual.

She hesitated before meeting his gaze. “I said… I’m sorry.”

His frown deepened. “For what?”

“For… earlier.” She shifted on her feet. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was probably weird, and I—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just—”

“Why are you apologizing?”

She blinked at the sharpness of his tone.

Mydei was still staring at her, golden eyes unreadable, but there was something frustrated in the way he looked at her. Like he didn’t understand why she would even say that.

Y/N bit her lip, suddenly feeling awkward. “…Because it was kind of unfair? You didn’t really get a say in it.”

At that, Mydei let out a breath—one of incredulity.

“You think I didn’t want that?”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

The words were quiet. Almost grumbled. As if he hadn’t even meant to say them out loud.

But she heard them.

Clearly.

Her lips parted slightly, her brain short-circuiting for a second. “…What?”

Mydei’s expression stiffened, and he immediately looked away, crossing his arms. “Forget it.”

“No, hold on, what did you just say?”

“Forget it, Y/N.”

“I will not.”

“Tch.”

He turned on his heel and started walking again, this time at a slightly faster pace.

Y/N scrambled to keep up, her heart hammering, the heat rising to her cheeks again.

Did she just—

Did she mishear him?

Or did he really just say—

No. No way.

…Right?

Y/N hurried after Mydei, her heart pounding in her chest. He was not getting away that easily.

Before he could take another step, she quickly moved in front of him, blocking his path.

He stopped abruptly, barely avoiding bumping into her. “Move.”

“No.” She crossed her arms, standing her ground.

His golden eyes narrowed. “Y/N.”

“Mydei.” She mimicked his tone, unwavering. “We’re talking about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You just said something that completely contradicts the way you act, and you expect me to just ignore it?” She scoffed. “No way. You’re going to explain what you meant.”

“Tch.” Mydei’s jaw clenched, and his gaze flickered away for a moment. His entire posture screamed tense, his arms crossed so tightly it looked like he was physically keeping himself from reaching for something—maybe a sword, maybe just a distraction.

Y/N took a step closer, searching his face.

“…Mydei.”

His eyes snapped back to hers.

“I don’t get you,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “One second, you’re messing with me, the next, you’re ignoring me, and now you’re—” She exhaled in frustration. “Now you’re saying things like that, and you won’t even explain what you mean.”

Mydei stared at her, unmoving.

For a moment, Y/N thought he was just going to shut down entirely, to brush her off and push past her.

But then—

“…You really don’t get it, do you?”

His voice was quiet. Almost amused, but not in a mocking way. More like he was baffled.

Y/N frowned. “Get what?”

His golden eyes studied her face—searching, considering. Then, finally, he exhaled.

“I like you, Y/N.”

Silence.

Y/N blinked, not entirely sure she heard him right. “…What?”

His lips pressed together, then curved into a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re not gonna make me say it twice.”

Her brain short-circuited.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait.

He—

He what?

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her thoughts felt scrambled, like someone had just thrown all the pieces of a puzzle onto the floor and expected her to figure it out in five seconds.

Mydei liked her?

Like—liked her?

She must’ve looked as dumbfounded as she felt because Mydei let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Y/N snapped out of it. “Hold on.”

“What.”

“How—” She ran a hand through her hair, still trying to process. “Since when?”

His gaze flickered to the side, and for the first time, he was the one looking unsure. “…A while.”

Oh.

She swallowed. “And you—” Her voice faltered slightly. “You were trying to tell me?”

He scoffed. “Tch. I was showing you.”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it.

All the moments over the past few weeks flashed in her mind—his sparring matches with her, his gifts, the way he lingered around her, his small but rare smiles, everything.

Oh.

Oh.

Her face burned. “I—I didn’t—”

“Yeah. I figured,” he muttered.

She groaned, covering her face for a second. “I thought you were just—y’know, being you!”

He gave her a look. “I don’t do this kind of shit for just anyone.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, and oh gods, he was serious.

Oh.

Y/N lowered her hands, her heart hammering in her chest. “And… you’re not joking?”

His expression darkened. “You think I’d joke about this?”

…No. No, he wouldn’t.

The realization hit her like a wave.

This whole time—this whole time—he had been trying to tell her. And she—she had been too oblivious to see it.

Y/N let out a breath, her pulse racing. She met his gaze, something twisting in her chest.

“…Oh.”

Mydei stared at her for a moment. Then he scoffed. “Yeah. Oh.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind spinning as she stared at Mydei.

The weight of everything that had just been said pressed down on her chest, making her feel both incredibly stupid and incredibly overwhelmed. She had been blind—completely and utterly blind.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “…I’m sorry.”

Mydei’s brows furrowed. “For what?”

“For not noticing.” She exhaled shakily, looking down at the ground. “For making you go through all that trouble just to get me to see something that should’ve been obvious.”

“Tch.” Mydei’s lips pressed together, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t need to apologize for that.”

She scoffed. “You literally had to chase me through half of Okhema before I even started putting the pieces together—”

“That’s not your fault.”

She looked up at him. He was staring at her, expression firm—certain.

“…Then whose fault is it?” she asked quietly.

He sighed, crossing his arms. “Mine.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I should’ve just said something sooner.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Instead of relying on Kremnoan traditions that clearly mean nothing to you.”

Y/N frowned. “That’s not—”

“I kept thinking, ‘she’ll get it eventually.’” His voice was low, almost frustrated—but not at her. “That one of these days, you’d finally understand.”

She bit her lip, guilt settling in her stomach. “…I still feel bad.”

Mydei let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re impossible.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “And you’re stubborn.”

They locked eyes, and for a brief moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then—

“…I liked you.”

The words tumbled out before Y/N could stop them.

Mydei froze.

Her eyes widened slightly as she realized what she’d just said.

“I—I mean—” She sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly flustered. “I like you—I liked you—no, I mean—” She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “I never let myself think about it!”

Mydei remained still, watching her carefully. “…What do you mean?”

Y/N inhaled shakily, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I mean, I liked you—I like you—but I never let myself think about it.” Her voice grew softer. “Because you’re you.”

His expression flickered, something unreadable passing through his golden eyes. “…Me?”

“You’re a prince, Mydei,” she murmured. “You’re an Chrysos heir. You have responsibilities. A whole kingdom to think about. And I’m just—”

Her voice faltered, her chest tightening.

Just Y/N.

Mydei’s brows drew together.

“Y/N.”

Her breath hitched slightly when he suddenly stepped closer.

She swallowed, forcing herself to keep talking. “I just—I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t let myself think about it, because—”

“Enough.”

Her words died in her throat.

His voice was firm—certain.

She looked up at him, startled by the intensity in his golden gaze.

“You’re not ‘just’ anything.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“You think I care about any of that?” Mydei scoffed, shaking his head. “You think it matters to me that I’m a prince and you’re not?”

Y/N swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

He exhaled sharply, then—without hesitation—reached out, cupping the side of her face with his hand.

She froze, her breath catching.

“You,” Mydei said quietly, “are the only thing I have ever wanted for myself.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

Her mind went completely blank.

Mydei held her gaze, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek. “…Do you understand now?”

She barely managed to nod, her face burning.

He let out a small, breathy chuckle—soft, fond.

“Good.”

The morning sun bathed Okhema in a soft golden light, the streets already alive with the usual sounds of merchants calling out their wares and warriors beginning their morning drills. Among them, Mydei walked with an unmistakable air of satisfaction. His usual composed and sharp demeanor was still intact, but there was something different—his shoulders weren’t as tense, his expression wasn’t as severe, and if one looked closely enough, they might even catch a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Phainon definitely noticed.

He had been casually leaning against a stone pillar near the training grounds, sipping his morning coffee, when Mydei passed by. At first, Phainon had assumed his eyes were playing tricks on him. But no. Mydei looked happy.

Suspiciously happy.

Phainon’s smirk was immediate. He pushed off the pillar and lazily strolled toward him.

“Well, well,” he drawled, falling into step beside Mydei. “Aren’t you in a fine mood today?”

Mydei didn’t react right away, but Phainon didn’t miss the way his lips twitched slightly before he responded.

“Hm.”

That was it. Just hm.

Phainon raised an eyebrow. “That’s all I get? No sharp retort? No glare?” He whistled, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Mydei sighed, rolling his eyes. “What do you want, deliverer?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” Phainon took another sip of his coffee, watching Mydei closely. “Just curious as to why you look like someone who just won a war without lifting a sword.”

Mydei scoffed. “You’re exaggerating.”

Phainon clicked his tongue. “Am I?” He took a step ahead, then turned to walk backward, facing Mydei as he grinned. “You’re radiating smugness, Mydei. It’s practically dripping off of you. It’s disgusting.”

The golden-eyed prince sighed, clearly debating whether or not to entertain this conversation.

Phainon’s grin widened. “Does this have anything to do with a certain someone?”

For the first time since their conversation started, Mydei hesitated.

It was subtle—the briefest pause in his step, the slightest shift in his expression—but Phainon caught it immediately.

“Oh, this is rich.” Phainon let out a delighted laugh. “You’re really not gonna say anything?”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Right. And I suppose that faint blush on your ears is also nothing?”

Mydei turned his head slightly, subtly adjusting his collar, but it was too late.

Phainon saw everything.

“Oh, this is fantastic,” Phainon continued, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “Should I go find Y/N? Ask her what happened?”

That finally got a reaction.

Mydei stopped walking.

Phainon barely had a second to register it before Mydei turned his head just enough to level him with a look.

“…You won’t.”

Phainon blinked. Then, slowly, a grin stretched across his face.

“Oh, but now I have to.”

Mydei exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Phainon.”

Phainon only laughed, stepping closer. “Come on. Give me something. Did she finally get it?”

Mydei crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “…More or less.”

Phainon gasped dramatically. “You mean all of your awkward attempts actually paid off?”

Mydei gave him a flat look. “They weren’t awkward.”

“They absolutely were,” Phainon said smugly. “But that’s beside the point.” He tilted his head. “So? What now?”

Mydei was quiet for a moment.

Then, slowly, a small, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

“Now,” he said, “I make sure she never forgets.”

Phainon blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

Then he let out a low whistle. “Oh. Oh, this is going to be fun to watch.”

Phainon still wasn’t done.

If anything, Mydei’s flustered reaction only fueled his mischief further.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Phainon reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His smirk was downright wicked as he tapped a few times on the screen before turning it toward Mydei.

“Seems like you had a good time yesterday,” he mused, his voice laced with amusement.

Mydei’s golden eyes landed on the screen.

It was the picture.

The one Phainon had secretly taken while lurking in the distance—Y/N on her toes, a hand gripping Mydei’s collar, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The normally stoic prince was caught mid-reaction, his ears red, his expression stunned.

A moment of silence.

Then—

“Mydei?” Phainon said, grinning. “You okay there, buddy?”

Mydei exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Phainon.”

Phainon’s smirk widened. “Yes?”

Mydei’s eye twitched.

“Delete it.”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Phainon pocketed his phone, taking a casual step back. “This is gold. Fantastic, even.”

Mydei ran a hand down his face. He inhaled deeply, as if to compose himself. Then, he took a step forward.

Phainon immediately took another step back.

“Mydei,” he said, amusement clear in his voice.

The prince said nothing. He merely rolled his shoulders back, his expression shifting from mild embarrassment to something much more dangerous.

Phainon recognized that look instantly.

“Oh, shit.”

Mydei lunged.

Phainon barely had time to react before he bolted, laughter spilling from his lips as he dodged between passing warriors and startled civilians.

Mydei was right behind him.

“You’re dead, Phainon.”

“So worth it!” Phainon cackled, vaulting over a wooden crate as he ran through the streets of Okhema.

“Get back here!”

“Never!”

Civilians watched in stunned silence as the two Chrysos heirs chased eachother through the marketplace, dodging carts, weaving through narrow streets, their thundering footsteps echoing through the city.

It was definitely not the last time Phainon was going to bring it up.

[reginaphalangelobster125]

(Grand)Father Figure

After Peter messed up big time Steve is giving him a 'Captain America Talking To' Steve: Kid, you can't just blow up a building. Where is your father? Peter: He's dead Everyone turns their heads to Peter with a mix of shocked and sad expressions: WHAT?! Bruce: T-Tony's dead? How could this happen? He was my best friend Thor: He will certainly be missed, he was a great man Tony, walking through the door: Whoa, who died? Everyone lets out a small scream or gasp Clint: YOU! Tony: Well I didn't get the memo Steve: Peter, why did you say he was dead? Peter, who is utterly confused: I didn't Thor: You did Spiderling, you said your father was dead Peter: He is. Wait, did you think Mr Stark was my dad? Everyone: Yes! They all turn to Tony who has his head tilted down, trying to hide his blushing face Tony: Uh, I have to go, do something, in the lab, that's right, the lab Tony practically flies out the door but he secretly smiles to himself Peter: Why would you think he's my dad? Bucky: Last week you called him dad Peter: That doesn't mean anything! I-I was just tired and I misspoke Sam: Yeah, was that the same time you called Nat mom? Nat, wrapping an arm around Peter's shoulders: Leave my son alone Peter: No, it was around the same time you called Steve babe Sam, now very embarrassed: I n-never did that! Steve: You told me you said bud Sam: I did! Nat gives Peter a little high five Clint is standing behind them laughing Peter: What are you laughing at? You called Bucky sweetheart Bucky, visibly uncomfortable: He what? Clint: He's making that up! Peter: Am not! Thor: I do not see the issue here. We are all a family of sorts, I know that the Maximoff twins have both called Barton their father on multiple occasions Wanda & Pietro: Thor! Clint: Aw! Kids, that's so sweet, you see me as a father figure Pietro: Pfft! More like a BOTHER figure, am I right Wands? Wanda: I'm not getting involved Wanda then uses her powers to fly away Pietro: Not fair! Wanda: You have super speed dumbass Pietro: Oh yeah Pietro runs away without another word Clint: What just happened? Everyone continues arguing over each other Steve: Peter called Fury grandpa! Everyone fell silent Peter: Steve! Steve: I'm sorry kid I didn't mean t- Wait a second, did you just call me Steve? Peter: Yes, I no longer see you as an authority figure I can look up to and trust, Steve Sam, quietly: Daaaamn Bucky hits Sam in the arm Sam: Hey! Bucky: Shut up, bird brain Steve: Don't worry kid, I once called him dad, to his face. But I don't think he heard Peter: That's pretty bad Steve: Yeah, Nat wouldn't stop teasing me for years, I still don't think she's done Nat: Nope Suddenly Nick Fury walks through the door, in a knitted beanie and scarf Peter: Grandpa! Peter runs and hugs him Fury: You told them? Peter: Steve found out Steve: So he knew? I told you that I called him dad for nothing? Fury: You called me dad? Steve: Oh no Fury: Do you see me as a father figure Steve? Steve: Pfft! No! More like a BOTHER figure Steve looks around before escaping the situation as quickly as possible Fury: You did that on purpose, didn't you? Peter, smiling brightly: Yes

This was inspired by posts from @thewrittenpodcast and @ineloe thank you and I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Tags:

@everyonesfriend @impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342 @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse

[wondrluv]

୨୧ 603 ; lh43

➪ summary: luke's main goal is to make sure y/n is taken care of, however it's hard for him to do it 603 miles away

➪ warnings: reader overworks herself, school, stress

➪ word count: 2.5k

➪ emma's notes: i’ve been in a like mood so i decided to get this one out tonight!! ill post a connor blurb tomorrow morning/afternoon and a nico fic tomorrow. more of a schedule release tomorrow probably for the next two weeks

© wondrluv ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

She expected this to happen, the pounding in her head, the 20 tabs open on her computer, the dozens of resource articles and research strewn about in her room, the five packets of review guides sitting in a stack on her desk, the half drank cup of coffee, and the tears springing in her eyes. The earbuds in her ears played nothing and the sensation began to irritate her, practically ripping them from her ears and throwing them across the room to somewhere she wouldn’t be able to find again. 

She could hear voices in the living room, just outside her closed bedroom door. They were laughing about something, what it was she had no idea. Her three roommates all had presentations tomorrow and that was it, no more studying, no more writing, they were done. She, however, still had three papers to write and two exams to take. She had regretted her decision to take this many classes this semester but she was preparing herself for her future.

She had gone to stand up, feeling dizzy immediately as her feet planted flat on the floor. She held a hand to the wall, bracing herself from toppling over. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the blurry sight of tears, dehydration, and lack of nutrition. She knew people would be worried about her if they were to see her like this, her hair matted and pulled into a bun as best as she could, and mascara dried on her face that highlighted the dark circles and bags under her eyes. She was wearing Luke’s sweatshirt, the Devils logo plastered over it in the center, mocking her, reminding her that her boyfriend was 603 miles away from her.

At the thought, she allowed herself to tear up more, letting tear after tear fall. There wasn’t much she could do, he was in the middle of a game right now. When she realized he had a game, she turned it on and watched with a soft smile whenever he would show up on the TV. Despite knowing the fact that he would not answer his phone, she called him, hoping to just hear his voice through his voicemail. 

When his voice reached her ears, she could feel some of the tension release from her body. However, the feeling was short-lived as the beep from the end of his voicemail was heard. She didn’t leave a message, she just hung up and watched the remainder of the second period. When the horn blarred in the arena and through the tv speakers, she shut off the screen and returned to work, making her head hurt more. 

She didn’t notice the multiple attempts Luke had made to call her, her phone having died 20 minutes prior when she was writing her essay. She had put her headphones on, canceling most noise from the apartment. She had been ripping off post-it notes after post-it notes, scrambling to write down as many ideas as her brain could process. 

Meanwhile, Luke had been minorly, no majorly, freaking out. She would never call him if he was at a game, not even if it was super important. He could feel himself start to sweat again as he rushed to put his suit jacket on, wiggling his feet into his shoes. He had gone home by himself, not feeling the need to celebrate when his girl could be suffocating 603 miles away from him. 

Ever since they’ve known each other, Luke has known about y/n’s tendencies to throw herself into her school work. He remembers the first time he saw her during exam season. It was the end of their freshman fall term, they had been dating for four months at the time. They had just gotten back from their games in Ohio, he was exhausted from the trip and their 6-1 loss following their win the previous day. All he had wanted to do was go over to her dorm and lay in bed with her. 

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

He knocked on the door, waiting for an answer but nothing came. He felt saddened and knocked again. He received the same answer, none. He turned around and slid down the wood door, hitting the ground with a thud. He put his hands on his head as he waited, kicking his bag to the side. It was only then he heard the footsteps come rushing down the hallway and looked up to see her. She had her backpack that looked as if it weighed 10 pounds, she was clutching five books in her arms and a coffee cup rested on top of them. She had been mumbling when she noticed him and her eyes lit up, “Hi!”

“Hi pretty girl, whatcha doing?”

“Studying.”

He looked at the way her eyes were hidden by the circles underneath them and frowned. He reached out to grab the books from her grasp and she gratefully accepted the offer, going straight to dig the keys out of her bag, “How were the games? Did you guys win?”

He felt heartbroken and confused, she always watched his games when they went away. She would always be the one to point out his goal or an assist that he got, sometimes she even pointed out if Dylan, Mackie, Ethan, or even Owen got a goal. He watched as she pushed the door open, removing her hand from her side to run it through her hair, “You didn’t watch?”

She turned to him, dropping her bag on the ground and reaching out for her books, “No, I was studying. Sorry, Lu.”

Studying? At that time? He did nothing but let her take the books, watching as she started to clean up her dorm. It was only then that he had noticed the state her dorm was in. There were empty boxes scattering the floor, paper plates and bowls on any surface possible, and some of her clothes were mixed in with her roommate’s, it was a mess, to say the least. He made no effort to say anything about it, though. 

She cleaned as much as she could in a matter of five minutes, looking at him with a small smile on her face, “I’m sorry I didn’t watch. I was going to watch the highlights when I got back tonight.”

“Back from?”

“Library. I think I’m starting to become a regular for everyone who works there.”

The thought of her being a regular was somewhat concerning to him, “How often have you been going?”

His voice was a mixture of stern and worried, his eyes somewhat squinted in a glare. She looked as if she had committed a crime at the tone of his voice, “Every day… from the time class was over until they closed.”

His eyes widened, “Jesus y/n.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to study. I need to do well.”

“I understand that but you can’t work yourself to the brink of death.” He grabbed the coffee out of her hand and emptied it into the sink, getting rid of the cup afterward.

She whined at the motion, watching him in horror as if he just hit a bird with his car. He walked back over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, “Tomorrow you are not going to touch a single book, I won’t even let you touch your computer.”

“But-”

“Nuh-uh, nope. No computer, no books, no papers, no anything school-related. We are going to stay in your bed and watch movies all day and eat properly.”

“I eat properly!” She exclaimed in offense.

He gave her a look that said all the different, “Sure. Now I can only hope you still have some of my clothes here somewhere because I do not want to talk to my dorm right now.”

She pointed in embarrassment to one of her drawers, “In there.”

He kissed her forehead and grabbed the clothes before heading for the bathroom, “I’ll be back and I better not see you do any work when I get back.”

She nodded but as soon as he left she ran to her backpack and grabbed her computer. She rushed to finish the last two paragraphs of her essay before he got back but luck was not on her side as she was halfway through her last paragraph and the doorknob turned. She had been so focused on writing that she didn’t care that he entered, “Just let me finish my last paragraph.”

He sighed, dropping his clothes into her laundry basket. He walked back to her bed and looked at her, “Last paragraph?”

“Mhm.” She nodded and scooted over so Luke could sit next to her, “Fine. I don’t want you to lose your train of thought.”

She beamed up at him and kissed his cheek before returning to her work.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

Ever since then, he had been careful with how much he left her alone in exam season. He always called on road trips, always went to the library with her to make sure she didn’t overwork herself, always made sure she was eating properly and always made sure that she was okay. But now being 603 miles it was hard to do that for her. 

Luke was packing a bag as fast as he could, looking at his laptop for the earliest flight out of there which wasn’t until early the next morning, leaving at 7 and not arriving until 9. Then he would have to wait to get a car and do a 30-minute drive to Ann Arbor. He groaned at the time and went to throw something, at that point he could drive there and be there before getting a plane but he was in no state to drive. 

He continued to try and call her for 30 minutes, on the brink of giving up at that point. Her phone was still dead and she had yet to realize it. She had music playing through her earbuds attached to her computer, typing about something that she considered stupid and unnecessary. She only took breaks to take a sip of coffee or to groan and throw her head back in exhaustion and frustration. 

Luke threw his phone on the bed, running his hands down his face, falling asleep not even five minutes later. Y/n was the same way, she closed her laptop as she finished her last sentence, finally allowing herself to take a break. She got up to go make a burrito in the kitchen, waving to her friends who were also still awake at the time. 

She went to turn her phone on and that was when she realized the lack of battery it had. She shrugged it off and put it down on her nightstand before walking back out to eat and finish watching the movie with her roommates.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

She didn’t go to bed until almost three in the morning despite finishing the movie four hours ago. Once they finished, she looked at the piles of paper and study guides she still had to do and sighed. Deciding that her first class wasn’t until noon, she could easily get done with one or two study guides or an essay in three. 

She curled up on her bed when she was done and wrapped the blankets around her tightly. When she woke up and went to look at her phone and saw a tweet from Amanda from an hour ago, “Luke is not at morning practice due to personal reasons. Should expect him back for Saturday’s game in Columbus.”

She immediately woke up at the fact, looking back at her other notifications. There must’ve been at least a dozen missed calls from Luke and 15 text messages. She could only think about the worst, if he had gotten hurt but just didn’t want to tell someone, if he had been so drunk that he couldn’t think straight, if he had a panic attack last night. Her thoughts raced but halted when there was a knock on the door.

She went out to the living room, still clad in her sweats from the previous night. Her friends must’ve either already left or were still sleeping. She walked to the door, peeking through the peephole and gasping. She all but ripped the door open, “Lukey?”

He smiled when he saw her, immediately feeling better. Her eyes were still the same from the first time he had experienced her like this and he knew there would probably be a coffee pot brewing in the next few minutes, but he was here now and that was a wave of relief, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my calls and I know you were studying last night so you probably wouldn’t have answered them anyway. But when I saw you called during the game I got worried because you never call. And I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that you weren’t overworking yourself but I can tell that you are.”

She frowned at his words but also felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought of him flying out just because he wanted to ensure she was okay. She stepped aside to let him in and then led him to her bedroom. It was cleaner than what he had witnessed in the past years.

“You can’t just fly out every time you think I’m overworking myself, Luke.”

“I know but I wasn’t thinking. I was worried, really worried.” He held her hand, playing with her fingers as a form of comfort, “How long were you up to last night?”

She hesitated before responding, “3…”

He only sighed and tugged her closer to the bed so they could lay down, “Luke I have class in two hours.”

“I know but just for a little bit, and then I’ll take you to class.”

“You still know you’re way around campus?”

“Did I ever know my way around campus?”

She shook her head and laughed, “No.”

He smiled at her laugh, “You do realize I’m only going to be allowing you to rest while I’m here right?”

“But I have one more essay to finish.”

He glared at her, “Fine, but after that, you are going to be right here, in my arms, and not thinking about school at all.”

“Deal.” He kissed her before allowing her to get up and get ready for class. They both walked on campus to her class with the same thought, grateful that Luke had come to see her. Even with being 603 miles away from each other, they would do anything to be there for one another.

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[shadowsndaisies]

death, who?

a/n: staying true to the resolution! the largest folder in my wips is probably the crossovers. way too many possibilities for someone entrenched in too many fandoms. but, nonetheless, here we are. also big shock! i still write for other fandoms, not just dc.

main masterlist

prompt: A; hold on you died?! ... B; yeah, well, it didn't stick.

synopsis: what if a hunt brought you and your older half-brothers and guardians, Sam and Dean Winchester, to Beacon Hills, and what if, you get in a spot of trouble with your new friends, and need to call for a ride.

wc: 2.7k

Black.

Everything is black.

You feel your body being torn apart, excruciatingly slow, and suddenly it all snaps back together, muscles, veins, tendons reconnecting and attaching, skin growing back.

Flashes of light, bright, discombobulating.

And then your eyes open.

You shoot up, bodies hovering over you.

Someone screams, someone else is crying.

You choke on nothing for a second, and then you push yourself back to your feet.

Hands grip onto you, frantic, and finally everything fits back into place.

You blink and turn, coming face to face with two boys. Not your brothers, a piece of you panics, but the memories come quick, and you force yourself to relax.

Stillinski and McCall, your brain supplies as you stare at the two. Both are watching you with wide eyes, lips parted, slightly pale. There’s a girl behind them with tears in her eyes. The redhead, Lydia you mind supplies after a second, looks especially distraught.

The choking feeling comes back and this time when you cough, something falls from your lips, a bullet.

You stare at the brass for a second, “seven fucking hells,” you hiss, bending down and picking up the bullet.

It’s deformed, likely the exact bullet that had killed you mere minutes before. Deformed from where and how it had impacted against your body.

The memory of being shot comes back fast and painful, your whole body flinches as you jerk to check your side. There’s blood, and your brow furrows as you push off your jacket and then pull your shirt off, wiping at your side, until you clear away most of the blood.

No wound.

“(Y/n)?” Stiles’ voice cracks as he says your name, and your head snaps back to the others.

They’re still staring at you like they’re all about to be violently sick.

“Hey,” you say, swallowing thickly as you calm your heart rate.

Who brought you back? No Angels nearby… Crowley didn’t have the pull anymore… Leaving… Billie? Or… Chuck?

You shudder at the thought, you hoped it was Billie.

You reach into your pants pocket, and pull out your phone, but your frown deepens when you realize it’s broken, screen cracked, totally toast— kinda like you were.

“Damn,” you mutter, turning back to the four still staring.

That was a problem.

“Can I borrow a phone?” you ask, voice hoarse, but they’re all still staring at you. You roll your eyes, and snap your fingers startling them. “Phone? Please?”

Lydia reaches a shaky hand into her purse and pulls her out, holding it to you.

You’d just dialed Dean’s number when Scott comes back to himself.

“Hold on,” he begins, “you died,” he states.

Newbies, you scoff internally.

“Yeah, well, it didn’t stick,” you lament, raising the phone to your ear.

It rings, and rings, and keeps ringing, until you’re met with “Agent Plant, FBI, leave a message.”

“Damn it,” you mumble, dialing Sam’s number next

It rings, and rings, and rings…

“Agent Page, FBI, leave a mess-”

You don’t wait for the end of the message, and instead hang up, biting your lip you try the last active number you knew of.

It rings, and rings, and rings…

“This is Agent Jones, FBI. Please leave a message and I will-”

“Chuck’s sake,” you grumble and then freeze. There was more than one way to call Cas.

“Your tattoo is gone,” a voice interrupts and your head whips back over to the other teens.

“Fuck, are you sure?” you ask tilting your shoulder in to look at the blade. “You’re so dead, Chuck, stupid things hurt like a-”

“What is she talking about?” you’re vaguely aware of Stiles’ muttered question, but you force yourself to take a deep breath and refocus on the task at hand.

“You were dead,” Lydia finally speaks up, as you hand her phone back.

“Yes,” you nod.

“We did CPR,” Scott adds on.

“Explains the pain on my ribs,” you note, looking around, eyes perking when you spot your backpack.

“It didn’t work,” Stiles.

“Yup, got that,” you confirm half-heartedly, as you pull open the bag, rummaging through.

“I heard your heart stop,” Scott adds, and you pull a spare t-shirt, the one you’d used for gym class, out triumphantly.

“Make sense, since I was dead,” you nod, tossing the shirt over your shoulder, and looking back into the bag.

“I felt it,” Lydia adds, you shudder slightly at that, Banshee premonitions were an entirely different beast.

“Sorry about that,” you say uncomfortably clearing your throat as you pull out the small container of hand sanitizer.

You grab the bag and walk back over to the other three, they’re still starring wide eyed, and you refrain from rolling your eyes again as you reach down for the bloody shirt. You reach to your ankle and pull out your switchblade, using it to cut up the shirt, taking the clean parts, and then dousing it in the hand sanitizer, using it to remove as much blood from your skin as possible.

It leaves the skin sticky, you wrinkle your nose at the feeling, but once content, toss the bloodied clothes in a pile, and wipe your blade before putting it away.

You toss the mostly empty hand sanitizer back in your bag, and run your finger over the bullet again before putting that in your pocket. You pull on the gym shirt, it reads Beacon Hills High School, across the front, and is made of a stiff cotton polyester blend that scratches at your skin, and well, it smells like gym, but you’ve had worse, that’s for sure.

You swipe back your hair and reach into another pocket producing your lighter. You crouch down, and set the bloody clothes on fire. It burns quick, hot, and bright. Especially once it catches on the cloth that had the hand sanitizer. You watch the flames quickly until your blood is gone, and then you stamp it out.

Finally, you swing the bag back on your shoulder and you turn to the other three, really taking the time to take them in. This time you do roll your eyes.

“Yes, I died. Tragic, I know. And yes, I’m back, shocking is an understatement I’m sure, but can we please move on?”

“You died!” Stiles repeats again, and you let out a long sigh.

“And it didn’t stick. It’s not the first time, probably won’t be the last,” you admit, but that seems to be the wrong thing to say because the three of them seem to raise into higher hysterics. “Right. okay! You process this, however you need to. Let me know when you’re ready. In the meantime, I gotta… make a call.”

The three offer jerky nods and you huff, walking ahead of them. They follow in a daze as you guide them out of the preserves and back to the main road. You look up and down, and quietly you close your eyes and pray.

Cas… Castiel, I could really use a hand right about now… Please?

You peek an eye open but are disappointed by the lack of blue-tie-trenchcoat-wearing angels.

You cave after another few minutes of silent prayer.

You drop your bag and walk into the street, “CAS! CASTIEL!!!” you shout.

Stiles flinches so violently he trips over his own feet, the three staring at you as if you were a lunatic, which; fair, but now was so not the time, to go into the angels and demons of it all.

“CASTIEL!” you try again.

“What is a Castiel?” Scott asks, eyes wide and concerned.

“CASTIEL,” you begin, shouting his name once more for good measure, before your lips turn into a deep frown, “is a no-good, older-brother preferring, utterly useless contingency plan,” you huff out, before looking back at Scott and shrugging, “apparently,” you add clearing your throat.

“Right,” Scott nods, but nothing about his response inspired his belief.

Again, fair.

You huff again, “guess we’re doing this traditionally,” you mutter, turning to the three. “No chance any of you has chalk?” you ask.

“Chalk?” Stiles repeats, spluttering. “What like sidewalk chalk? What are we gonna do hopscotch our way back into town?”

You deadpan at Stiles unimpressed, and he shifts under the weight of your stare.

“So no chalk?” you ask, and he huffs. “Fucking townies,” you mumble under your breath, but the look you get from Scott tells you he heard it.

“No chalk,” Lydia confirms. “But, chalk’s mostly made of the shells of single-celled organisms, like coccolithophores and foraminifera,” she explains and your brows furrow.

“What?”

“It’s found in most sedimentary deposits,” she continues.

You blink at her.

Her shoulders sag a bit, “Limestone rocks would work,” she relents.

You perk at that. “Wait here,” you tell them, taking off back the way you’d come. “I saw some limestone on our way out!”

By the time you make it back to them, the three are huddled, whispering quickly and casting weary glances around. They pause as you come back but you barely pay attention, instead, you focus on chalking the ground, delicate and precise marks as you use the limestone on the asphalt.

Once happy with the markings you stand outside the drawing, and toss the leftover limestone aside, wiping your hands on your jeans and standing at full height. You crack your neck, and turn to the markings.

“Amaymon, Amaymon, appear now, by the power of the Angelical Keys, I summon thee, Castiel,” you begin, voice loud and clear. It pulls the other three’s attention. Stiles ready to interrupt when you began again. “Rah ah gah ee oh es, Castiel, Rah ah gah ee oh es,” the three were now staring with wide eyes, on your second pass of the Enochian chant, your voice seemed to reverberate through the preserves, sounding less and less human. “Amaymon, Amaymon, appear now, by the power of the Angelical Keys, I summon thee, Castiel,” you repeat a final time.

You hold your breath, waiting, seconds tick by and finally your eye twitches. Fucking Castiel, you appear whenever Dean calls, bastards, all three of you.

“Fine,” you huff, throwing your hands in the air. “Prayer didn’t work, neither did calling nicely, or an official summons, so I guess that leaves me with threats! I hope you’re happy!” you shout at no one, and you catch the look Lydia shares with Stiles.

“(Y/n) maybe you should-” Scott begins and you wave him off.

“CASTIEL, YOU GET YOUR WINGED ASS HERE RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR ON MY NAME I WILL NEVER LET YOU HAVE ANOTHER MOMENT OF PEACE YOU WINGED RAT!” you scream, causing the other three to flinch.

And then a man in a trenchcoat materializes right behind you, and the three lose their shit.

“WHAT THE FU-”

“WHO?”

“WHERE DID-”

You whirl around and the Angel stands stiffly as he stares at you.

“About fucking time,” you huff, glaring at him.

“I find your demanding tone off-putting,” Cas decides and your eye twitches.

“Off-putting? Are you kidding Cas? I’ve been trying to get in contact with Dean and Sam, no one’s answering their phones!”

“Which numbers did you try?”

“Plant, Page, and Jones, FBI,” you counter.

“We deactivated them.”

“No shit,” you hiss.

“You are acting like a-” he stops himself, sighing.

the audacity.

“Like a what, Cas?” you press.

“Like an ass-butt,” he admits and you have to scrub your hand over your face. “I do not appreciate it,” he adds on.

You open your mouth with a sharp retort but you stop yourself, count to ten in your mind and let out a deep breath instead. Reminding yourself, you can’t talk to Cas the same way you would to Dean and Sam, it was counter-productive at best.

“You’re right, I apologize Castiel. I’m… flustered,” you admit, levelly, jaw clenched and eye twitching as you do.

“Is it because of these three?” he asks, finally addressing the others hovering just a few feet away.

“No, these are friends Castiel,” you huff.

“Why then? You are usually the most put-together of the three Winchester siblings,” he questions.

Isn’t that a low bar? The 17-year-old little half sister is the most put-together when compared to her two adult older brothers.

“I was shot, and killed about an hour ago Cas, I can feel where they sliced me open down in hell, and smell like a mix of death, blood, and high school gym class. I would very much like to know where my older brothers are, right now,” you explain, once again keeping your voice in that forced level tone.

“I see. One moment,” he says and before you can disagree he disappears.

“Oh, Fuck me!” you shout again.

“I have so many questions,” Stiles speaks up from where he and Scott are still stood.

“Sliced you open?” Lydia repeats, voice pitching up.

“Yeah, and Hell?” Stiles tags on, funnily enough, his voice did the same thing.

You glare at the two. Chuck’s sake, it was going to be such a pain to do the whole tip of the iceberg speech, at least they already believed in the Supernatural.

“Just-” you pause for another deep breath. “Please, let me find my brothers first,” you request instead.

Luckily you don’t have to wait long, because only a few minutes later you can hear an engine coming up the road, and you sigh when you catch sight of the Impala.

The car’s moving fast, and it screeches, skidding a bit, as Dean throws the thing in park. Both of you brothers rushing out. Dean gets to you first, hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down.

“The hell happened?” he asks, voice gruff.

“Hell,” you answer shortly.

“That’s not funny,” Sam counters.

“Neither is radio silence,” you shoot back.

Both of your brothers share a look.

“Fair,” Sam concedes, when Dean stays resolute, he hasn’t let go of you yet.

You feel Dean’s grip tighten and you sigh, “I’m fine, seriously,” you relent, voice softening far more than it has since you woke up.

“C’mon let’s get you to the motel,” Dean decides, keeping one hand on you as he starts pushing you to the Impala.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam calls after him, a nervous laugh paired with a clearing of his throat.

“What?” Dean barks the question over his shoulder, walking you forwards.

“She’s got friends,” he reminds him and you shrug at Dean who finally turns and stares at the the three who have been watching your brothers with curious eyes.

“Ah shit, more teenagers,” Dean frowns. “Fine, pack it in,” he huffs, opening the door.

Sam smiles nervously and gestures for the three to slip into the back row. You on the other hand, end up sandwiched between your two big brothers. Sam casts another look over you once he’s back in the car, and Dean’s pulling a U-turn.

“You sure, you’re okay?”

You sigh, and reach into your pocket, pulling out the bullet, and then dropping it in Sam’s hand as a response.

“Sorry I asked,” he backtracks.

You roll your eyes, and lean back into the leather seat, “Someone has to redo my tattoo when we get to the motel,” you speak up.

“Damn, total wipe?” Dean asks looking over at you.

“Not even a scar,” you mutter.

“That’s not too bad, I mean that wendigo last fall caught you pretty bad, right? Scar’s gone now?” Sam tries to point out but both you and Dean level him with a look.

“I thought we agreed to no bright sides on death, hell, torture, and resurrection,” you mutter mutinously.

“We did,” Dean agrees.

This time Sam rolls his eyes, “Alright, I’m sorry I tried,” he huffs, settling back as well.

“So many questions,” you hear Stiles repeat, and you groan in despair.

...

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

[keyotos]

face-to-face

summary ↯

aventurine has a bit of a staring problem while shopping

tags ⎯ unestablished relationship. like we are in the baby stages of their relationship. minor jealousy. lots of banter. lowk dialogue heavy.

word count ⎯ 3.3k

tana's thoughts ⎯ aventurine has taken over my brain so here's a snippet of the series i'm writing

over the years, it's become easier for you to notice when someone stares at you. before, it was an uncomfortable feeling. you felt eyes peering over your shoulder as if you were a pest–it made your skin churn and shoulders twitch up self-consciously. now though, gazes move past you like air. you don't care as much about the opinions of other people–it's not like you'll be seeing them for long anyway.

except, today is different.

you can feel aventurine's colorful eyes trail your every move. from the moment you chose the necklace, to the moment you took it up to the cashier. he wasn't being as inconspicuous as he assumed to be: that died after the fifth glance that he shot your way while you were inspecting said necklace.

even through his glasses, aventurine's stare was burning and heavy. you never thought that such light-colored eyes could install such a hefty weight on your back, but aventurine proves you wrong.

while the cashier rings up your necklace, you look back at aventurine. coincidentally, he was already eyeing you before you even turned around. so when you catch him, he thinks that the other pieces of jewelry in the store are far more interesting than your face could ever be.

you scrunch your eyebrows and shake it off. by now, you're quite used to his unusual antics, so you brush him off. the cashier engages in light conversation with you, and then you feel it again. the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and everything feels like it's weighted down.

you bid the cashier goodbye, and aventurine follows you outside. his hands are in his pockets while he whistles, almost like he wants you to start talking. you shoot him a confused look back, your eyebrow raised and nose crinkled.

when he only whistles louder, you decide to poke the bear.

"okay, what is it?" you stop and turn to face him.

"what? you don't like my whistling?" aventurine responds with an innocent tone; he even shrugs his shoulders like he has no idea what's going on.

you huff, "not just the whistling. what's up with your staring?" you raise a hand up to his eyes, "we're supposed to be acting normal. i don't think gawking at the person you're shopping with is exactly normal."

aventurine's jolts back, like he was accused of murder instead of ogling. "i wasn't gawking."

you nod, "yeah, you were staring."

"those mean the same thing."

"i think you've been hanging out with the doctor too much," you roll your eyes and continue walking. aventurine quickly marches up to you, matching your pace sooner than you thought.

"are you trying to compare me to him? we're completely different people, you know that, right? i don't act like him at all," aventurine rambles on. his head is turned to you so that his mouth is directly next to your ear, meaning you hear all of his words. you can't tune him out like usual.

"first of all," it's your turn to look at him, "i just said you hang out with him a lot. and you do, don't you?" aventurine's lips fall into a flat as you say that.

"and second of all, stop changing the subject. why were you staring at me back there?"

the man next to you huffs, and it sounds nearly childlike, "i'm not changing the subject. i'm just trying to tell you that i'm nothing like the doctor," he says with disdain.

"you are changing the subject, otherwise you wouldn't be talking about dr. ratio as much as you are now," you glance around at the various stores surround the two of you, and for a second, you swear that you see aventurine's eyes linger on you once more.

"you did it again!" you fully stop, pointing a finger at his eyes.

aventurine has to catch himself before he falls over at your sudden stop. "what? what are you talking about?"

"you keep glancing over at me! do i have something in my face? my teeth?" a large smile blossoms across your face as you beam at aventurine. for a moment, his annoyed facade falters, and his face relaxes.

"no, and if you did, i'd tell you," he swats a hand in your face, "i don't know what you're talking about."

you roll your eyes. it's obvious that he's hiding something, because usually his lies are more believable. but when you're catching him in the act, denial is not a good way to refute false claims.

"yeah, whatever," you look around the plaza the two of you are currently in when another store catches your eye. your face instantly brightens, and you wander towards the doors.

it's another clothing store, similar to all the other ones on the planet. except, something specific drew you here, and it was the display of hats they had near the window. you walk up to it, spinning the shelf around a few times to grasp onto all the options. your eyes are wide and your mouth is slightly parted as you examine each hat with awe.

unbeknownst to you, aventurine catches up to you and finds you fumbling around with each hat on the rack.

he sneaks up behind you, mumbling, "now, that's what you call gawking."

you jump up in surprise, hitting your head on something more soft than the hard shelf. aventurine quickly redacts his hand from the top of your head.

"i'm just doing what any normal shopper would do," you rub the top of your head before going back to the hats. aventurine's long sigh rings in your ear as you browse.

"yeah, okay," he looks at the selection of hats beside you, "i doubt anything you do is normal, but–" aventurine doesn't get to finish his sentence. he hears your boisterous gasp, and his eyes are on you once more.

"do you see this!!" you lift a fedora up to his eyes, "we could match," you whisper it like a secret, as if matching would be your thing. like matching would only be a tangible thought between the two of you, and no one else.

"yeah, no," aventurine lifts the hat down and places it back on the shelf, "sorry sweetheart, but the hat is my thing."

you grimace at the pet name, "mkay. so, you're gatekeeping fedoras now?"

aventurine sputters, "what? what is gatekeeping?"

you heavily sigh, and aventurine is pretty sure you're putting on an act right now. "are you serious? how do you not know what gatekeeping is?" you shake your head as you grab the hat from the shelf, "anyway, i think i know the real reason you don't want to match."

"because it's childish? and totally not my style?"

you turn around and flick your partner on the shoulder, "no. and you really have been hanging around the doctor too much." you shudder and place the hat on your head, "i think it's because you know i would show you up in it."

aventurine muffles a chortle when he sees you put on the fedora, "keep in mind that we're in the land of dreams."

your lips curl up in the way that they always do when you're annoyed. you are not very amused by his bits today. "you suck," you take the fedora off and continue browsing for different options.

you hear aventurine's footsteps gradually get softer and softer as you keep browsing. that's fine, you think, this is his shopping trip too–he's allowed to find things for himself.

one hat after another: that's your current predicament at the moment. you're glad aventurine is off doing his own shopping, but you also wish that you glued him to the ground so he could give you a second opinion. unfortunately, he is nowhere to be seen, and you are having trouble deciding between two caps.

"do you need any help finding anything?" a voice perks up from behind you, making your shoulders jolt up. it's not the voice you want to hear, instead it belongs to a lovely retail worker.

"ah, no thank you," you smile politely and turn back to the two hats in your hand.

"okay, let me know if you need anything!" sometimes, you wonder how retail employees are able to maintain such a chipper tone of voice for hours on end. do they really want to help you or are they just saying that because they have to?

and that's when the thought hits you: either way, they're still offering themselves up. your eyes widen and you rush towards the employee.

"actually, wait!" he turns around when you touch his shoulder, "i do need help. and this is gonna sound super random–and possibly weird–but what do you think of these two hats?"

you put one hat on–a red one that seems to flop on your head, "this one is nice, right?" the employee in front of you just nods. he's a bit tense and stiff; it seems like he's trying not to offend you.

"yeah, i think it's nice too. only thing is that it's kinda flopping on my head, and caps aren't really supposed to flop," you take it off and hold it in your hand.

you're surprised the employee hasn't made his break yet, because he's still standing in front of you when you grab the other cap.

"and this one," you hold your free hand up to the new, black hat, "is the one that belongs to my favorite team. well, i guess the other one also belonged to another one of my–"

"what are you doing?" you can recognize that voice anywhere. that voice that carries a slightly whiny tone. that voice that always seems to have some judgement sprinkled throughout it.

you and the worker both seem surprised. well, the employee seems to be more intimidated than surprised, but either way, his entire face had gone pale.

"um, trying on hats?" you take off the cap and hold it up.

"i can see that," he looks over towards the employee in front of you, "but is it seriously a two-person job?"

you scrunch your eyebrows together, "i needed a second opinion."

"you could've asked me," aventurine whispered, though it sounded more like a hiss.

"i think someone else needs help," the employee takes a few steps back from the both of you, "i hope you find everything!" there it is. he tries his best to sound cheerful, but his voice quivered as he moved away from the two of you.

"he was such a nice guy," you said as you waved goodbye. aventurine did not look as pleased as you did.

"we're supposed to be laying low. you know that, right?" the blond emphasizes.

you shake him off, "yeah, and tell me how a regular retail worker is gonna rat us out? what about us possibly screams 'sleuth'?"

"we're buying hats." aventurine isn't very proud of his answer, and he can tell that you thought it was weak as well.

"so everyone that buys hats are suspicious?" you retort, putting on the cap you previously took off. "do i look like a murderer to you?"

aventurine sighs. his fingers go to his temples and you're sure that you've brought him to his last nerve.

"this hat is better than the other one," he puts the red one back onto the shelf. "the other one practically fell on your face. i doubt you could even see with that one."

you look at the red hat and then look back at aventurine, furrowing your eyebrows together. "that was a specific answer. i never even showed you what the red hat looked like."

aventurine cleared his throat, and the ceiling must look extra nice, "i overheard the other guy talking. you're loud, y'know that?"

your face immediately breaks out in a huge grin, so wide and bright that aventurine looks back at you for a mere second, before turning back to the ceiling.

"you were doing it again!! the staring! goodness, i thought you were good at lying," you laugh, slapping him on the shoulder to garner his attention, "admit it. i've caught you."

"i'm being serious. you're a little loud," aventurine crosses his arms, biting on the inside of his cheek.

"la-la-la-la. can't hear you. guess i'm speaking too loudly to notice," you put the black cap on again–the brim sticking the opposite direction–and look in the mirror. "hey, since you're here, can you give me another opinion."

aventurine nods for you to continue, and you smile, "perfect. does this make me look like a cool galactic baseball player?"

this is what takes him aback, "huh? why would you want to look like that?"

"well, i'm going to a game soon, and i didn't want to look like a fake fan," you shrug and look in the mirror again. "but now that i'm really looking at myself, i think i’d be an amazing galactic baseballer. what do you think?”

you pretend to hold a baseball bat in your hands, getting into a hitter stance. you make sound effects as you swing your pretend-bat into aventurine's chest, aiming for the open hole in the middle.

aventurine reaches over your head, "well first of all, i'm pretty sure baseball players wear their caps the right way." he grabs your hat and places it on the right way, but not without making sure the brim covered your eyes.

"are you serious right now?!" you yelp, quickly pulling up the hat so you can regain your vision.

and there aventurine is, staring at you again.

you briefly gulp before broadcasting, "you're staring!" you march closer to him. "i caught you!" you're only inches apart now. "and it was obvious!" your finger is pointed at his eyes, but unlike earlier, your finger is much closer.

if you had gotten only an inch closer, you would be able to feel aventurine's heartbeat, despite not even being chest-to-chest.

"okay, okay," aventurine is the first one to step back, and you feel something sinking, "but that was only once."

"yeah, whatever. 'once.' not like i haven't caught you a million other times," you shook your head and regained your baseball posture, "you can't hide from these sharp eyes. told you i'd be a great galactic baseballer."

the blond chuckles, and your eyebrows raise up at the sound, "keep dreaming."

"well, a really weird guy did tell me earlier that we are in the land of dreams. so, if i dreamt that i could be a galactic baseballer, it'd actually happen."

aventurine tilts your hat down once more, dismissing your cries while he does it.

"remember what i said about acting normal?"

"this is actually pretty normal for me," you take the hat off.

"can't argue with that," aventurine looks towards the cashier and then back at you. you raise an eyebrow, as if to raise the question, "is there something wrong with my hair?"

if there is, aventurine doesn't do something about it. surprising, since he's practically been doing something this whole trip. "are you ready to go up?" he asks you.

"you're not gonna get anything?" you look around the store, "we can look at stuff for you. there's tons of things here."

aventurine shakes his head and gives you a wink, "i've got everything i need." you suck in a sharp breath, and you try to focus on anything else other than how fast your heart begins to beat. when aventurine turns his back away from you, then you gulp.

when the two of you get to the cash register, you stand next to aventurine, preparing to pay. you're well aware of how costly things on penacony are–after all, this whole planet is like a tourist attraction. that's why you're paying with card instead of the usual credits.

"did you find everything?" the cashier asks you. you smile at the woman and nod, making idle chatter with her while aventurine idly stands next to you.

the woman turns over to aventurine, "i'm guessing you also want to pay for your item too?"

it's aventurine's turn to plaster a smile on his face. from what you've gathered from being with him so often, his smiles are often sly. some would compare it to the cheshire cat, but you thought he rather resembled an evil cartoon villain.

"yes ma'am," his saccharine voice masked his villain grin, "do you still have it?"

"that i do," she responds, grabbing something from underneath the counter. your eyes fly from the woman to aventurine. you simply couldn't believe what you were looking at.

"you're buying the freaking feodora?" your posture straightens and you beam up at him, "i knew you wanted to match!"

"slow your roll," aventurine puts a hand up to you, "who said i was buying this for you?"

your smile drops and you shove his shoulder, "are you serious? i thought you didn't like that hat."

"i didn't not like the hat. i just didn't like the thought of us matching," he tilts his head to smirk at you.

the cashier's eye's bounce between you two, not knowing whose side to take. eventually, she settles for ringing your cap and aventurine's feodora up, not even wanting to say a word.

"alright, who's paying?" she looks up at the both of you.

"i am," you and aventurine say in unison. your face contorts while aventurine displays a confused expression.

"um," you whisper, stepping closer to the blond next to you, "i'm paying."

"um," aventurine mocks you, "you're broke."

"not broke!" you kick his shin, and aventurine grips onto the counter in order to keep his balance, "just budgeting."

"yeah, and you know who don't have to budget? people that aren't broke."

"so he's paying?" the cashier interrupts. you step away from aventurine out of shame. he can have this.

when aventurine sees you put away your wallet, he proudly hands his card up to the woman in front of you. when she looks down to scan his card, he shoots you a sly look and a wink. your mouth rests in a flat line and your eyes show no signs of hilarity.

the moment the two of you step out of the store, you immediately go for aventurine's bag. before he could even catch you, the hat is already in your hands.

"we can switch!" you try to reason with him, "you would be a great baseball player. just, y'know, not as great as me."

"and..." you sing, "we wouldn't match. wouldn't that suit both of our goals?"

aventurine looks over at you, and his gaze is softer. this time, you don't get onto him for gawking. how could you, when he's looking at you like that? you don't think you've ever seen him like that... ever.

you squint your eyes, trying to decipher his real expression. but there's nothing for you to investigate.

"what?" you ask.

"you can keep it."

immediately you take a step back, nearly bumping into a bystander walking behind you. you shout a quick apology before returning back to aventurine, "didn't you buy this for yourself though? what's the point of me keeping it?"

"i just realized that it didn't go with any of the outfits i have," he sighed, looking into the distance, "what a waste of money. so, it's yours."

"what kind of bullshit is that?" you scold the blond, "you always have to think about whether or not you'd actually wear the item before you buy it. that's like... number one rule of shopping."

"i don't shop that much," aventurine shrugs, glancing at you one last time before focusing on the street ahead. he bites the inside of his cheek and tries his hardest not to look to the side. you'd give him hell for it.

but you're not focused on that. everything's slow, and it feels like the street is empty.

"well, then we're gonna have to go more often."

[mellennia]

Got an angsty idea:

-In Short-

Yandere ultramarines binding/caging/disabling Guilliman at all costs for his own safety. Even if they must hurt him, even break him to do it. No more fulgrim/mortarion incidents.

-In Long-

Basically, what if after witnessing his reckless personal behavior towards personally fighting his brothers and his "death" at the hands of fulgrim as well as his LITERAL death at the hands of Mortarion (regardless of the fact he was brought back, he fucking DIED), the Ultrabois just fucking go full Yandere and try to keep him out of battle and under watch as much as they possibly can to ensure his absolute safety from ANY harm, even himself? And what if this desire, this NEED to keep their primarch, their FATHER, safe went to the extreme as he inevitably tried to get back to business, including personally fighting? He's a primarch after all, weapon first, human second, and his duty is to guide and safeguard the Imperium...

My brain basically had an idea of a gilded bird-caged and bound Guilliman and spun a background around it. Some mental images even include a blindfold and gag for the Ultrabois benefit cuz you know Guilliman's words are some of his best weapons (best way to talk them out of it- to a point).

Very OOC, I know, but with the way the Ultrabois were willing to die in droves to get him away from fulgrim as he was dying AND to protect his stasis before his revival, it seems it could very easily become a possibility via Slaaneshi influence, Lord of Excess and all...

GOD I wish I could draw bodies or write 😭

[gabberpopsexclusive]

lately i have NOT been able to stop thinking of joost getting horny right before a show.... trying to be quick with you backstage but he ends up being somewhat late and missing his cue because fuck he needs you THAT bad.... jshhakdhkkjak backstage joost.....

this is so real.. and recent content has been fueling this thought bc why was he like an hour late to that one show (sweden i think?? i forget for sure lol)

anyway yea this is soooo real.

he knew bringing you along with him on tour would have.. to put it simply, risks. including him getting any sudden urges involving you.

you and joost are alone together in his dressing room before his next show. he only has about 15 minutes till he has to go on stage, but he cant help the intrusive thoughts his brain is giving him about you. he cant help himself at all, you just look so good, putting the final touches on your look. tonight is the night he said he would finally bring you out with him.

you can tell hes having some sort of issue, the way hes finnicking and moving around on the couch, trying to adjust himself nonchalantly.

lets just say, he isnt very good at it.

you initiate it (how nice!) because you can tell hes having a hard time, and you KNOW how freaky that man can get on stage. immediately joost is insanely needy, grabbing onto whatever part of you he can when you settle onto his lap. his hands feel great roaming your body though, grabbing at your waist, your tits, everything. the way you lean into him makes him infinitely harder aswell.

you can feel him getting harder as the seconds pass, a clear sign you two need to have a lil quickie. he alerts you quickly that he only has 10 minutes till he has to get on stage, but you assure him you'll deal with him quick enough.

quickly you move down onto your knees, unzipping his jeans and taking his dick out of his pants. hes already leaking like a madman, so you know you dont need to worry about prep. you place a few light kisses onto his tip before taking him completely in your mouth.

boy is he loud, he cannot control the noises he makes while feeling the intense amount of pleasure you give him, trying to grab onto your hair for support, the stimulation soon leading to him pleading to cum, but you decide to be a bit mean and deny him the pleasure he deserves. he has to beg you, telling you he only has a few minutes now before he has to be on stage.

its a hard decision for you to make, be nice & let your boyfriend cum, or keep him waiting and make him miss his cue.

you decide you want to be a little mean to him, hearing that his final pre-show song was on. quickly you take him back in your mouth, keeping rhythm for a minute before he finally snaps. he scolds you a bit, but quickly stops when he realizes hes about to be late.

he jumps up so quickly, you have no idea how he has this sort of energy after cumming, but somehow the man does it, and ends up only being a few minutes late to his performance.

when its your turn to come out, in between songs he takes the time to acknowledge that youre the reason why hes late. (atleast he didnt mention why. im pretty sure its implied though..) an awkward laugh and a light slap later and its back to you and him being all cute and playful on stage together, the rest being a great end to the night's show.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

erm. hi so sorry i died!

does this fic make sense yes no maybe so i dont actually know. it might be a little too fast like my pacing might be off but tbh i have no idea. i hope yall like it nonetheless. i gotta get back into the writing game, ive been out for a bit and it seems like joostblrs in a bit of a writing drought 😔

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Something Rotten

Pairing: Dark!QZ Joel x afab!reader x Dark!QZ Tess

Words count: 4300 (more or less)

Rating: + 18, absolutely NSFW. This shit is triggering, read the tags carefully and please if your a minor don’t interact.

Warnings/Tags: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, smut, heavy degradation, kidnapping, reader is tied to the bed with a rope, mention of strong painkillers, depressing thoughts, both Joel and Tess are EVIL, mention of offering sex in exchange for protection, Dub-con/non-con (well, she’s into that and I made sure to say that she’s deeply aroused but still), no kindness whatsoever, face slapping, being threatened with a gun and knife, blood, wound (Tess writes a word on Reader's body with a knife), pussy slapping, tits slapping, oral (m receiving), deep throating, scissoring, slurs (whore, slut), pet names (honey, baby, pet, kitten), mention of Robert (you know that prick at the beginning of the series who makes Tess get beaten up? That's him. but anyway he is the least of the problems in this thing), ripped panties, orgasm denial, cum eating, hair pulling, reader has hair that can be pulled, no other description of her is given, I think it’s all but I will be sure to add anything I may have forgotten as soon as I can.

A/N: Happy Halloween! This is indeed a nightmare of a fic LOL

Ok, enough, I'm getting serious again. I know it’s a lot, please don't read if you don't feel comfortable with those kind of things. I've never written anything like this before, it was a test for me because those who read me know, I'm usually very soft. I've started writing the second part if anyone wants to read it, I preferred to publish this first because it was getting pretty long (And I honestly want to see how this one goes before I continue lol). Sorry if you find any errors, I hope there aren't too many. I don't have a beta, I reread it but my eyes are exhausted at this point 💀 (English is not my first language, you know that, right? lol)

Again, no one is obligated to read but I wanted to thank those who provided me with the songs I listened to while writing this: @magneticecstasy @hoelaris @lovely-vamp-princess @baronessvonglitter @whocaresstillthelouvre and @almostempty for having called together her trusted connoisseurs 😎, you all are truly amazing ♥️ (Something Rotten is a Placebo song I added between your amazing music advices).

Playlist can be found here.

(While we're at it, if anyone would like to be tagged on my fics in the future, let me know, thank you very much!)

Thanks to anyone who reads this!

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

“Now what should we do with you?” Tess’s voice is sharp, with a smug undertone.

“Maybe we should get rid of her.” Joel is just as blunt, smiling wickedly as he watches you shake like a leaf.

There’s obvious disappointment painted on your face, as well as fear of what these two might do to you.

——————————————————-

You know Joel and Tess, everyone in the QZ knows them, at least everyone trying to make ends meet like you.

They’re the most skilled smugglers and also the most ruthless.

No one would want to have them as enemies, but you, due to circumstances beyond your control, just tried to steal some of their supplies. You heard they had just left the Qz to stock up, apparently they know someone outside.

You thought you were safe. Turned out you were wrong, they came back sooner than you expected.

You wouldn’t have made such a bold move if it weren’t for the fact that Robert died, killed by Tess, as far as you know.

You and Robert had a relationship, if you could call it that, he gave you protection in exchange for sex. You didn't like Robert, to be honest, guy was a piece of shit himself, but he was the lesser evil. He was generally stupid and driven by his dick rather than his brain so it was pretty easy for you to please him and make sure he kept you safe from the unrestrained FEDRA soldiers, who are anything but devoted to rules and discipline, and you never lacked food while you were with him, much more than some people in this seedy Qz had.

Batting your eyelashes and giving him head every now and then was enough to have what you needed.

Robert was a gun runner, people feared him, everyone except Joel and Tess who thought he was an incompetent and arrogant moron.

They weren't entirely wrong but everyone in this shithole of a place survives as best they can.

You should have relied on your own strength from the beginning but when you arrived here you were so tired, hurt, heartbroken from having lost all the people you cared about that leaning on someone seemed like an acceptable compromise.

You were desperate again after losing Robert, so hungry you barely remembered how food really tastes.

You snuck into their room, cursing your stomach that was growling loudly. You held your breath as the door creaked open to reveal a rather bare, makeshift mini-apartment. No one was there, so you tiptoed around looking for something edible. You noticed a floorboard that was a bit off. Bingo.

You lifted it up and found a stash of dried meat, along with several bags of pills and a gun.

You took some pills that you recognized as strong painkillers, just in case you might need them.

Your hand shook as you pulled out the plastic bag full of dried meat, your stomach giving you no respite.

And just as you were about to take a bite, you heard some noises.

Shit.

You looked around nervously for a place to hide but to no avail. The bed was resting on bricks and barely rose from the floor, too little room to slide under. There were no closets, no dressers or anything.

Shit.

You were screwed.

The footsteps you heard were getting closer and closer and in a total panic, not knowing what else to do, you cowered behind a couch, the dried meat still in your hand while the pills danced in your bra.

You were certain that you would be discovered in no time.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, a cold sweat was breaking out on your forehead. You squeezed your eyes shut in prayer even though you’ve never been a religious person.

Tess saw you first. “What do we have here?” she hissed. Joel caught sight of you next, your head awkwardly poking out from behind the couch.

Stupid stupid stupid.

“A thief,” he stated coldly, as he tugged at your jacket and pulled you out of your hiding place. Tess looked you up and down as you stared at the floor, terrified.

——————————————————-

“What the hell were you trying to do?” she asks you ironically, as if it makes her laugh. In fact, you feel ridiculous for even thinking you could get away with them, it would have been wiser to stay hungry while waiting to earn some cards.

Now you’re in troubles.

Big troubles.

You wanted to get the gun, but you couldn't and now you're standing in front of them, unarmed and scared as the barrel of Joel's gun is grazing at your cheek.

“I asked you a question,” Tess points out, “you better answer it.”

Joel hands the gun to Tess, tears the dried meat out of your hand and shove your arms behind your back, holding you tightly by your wrists, while Tess glares at you.

The gun is now before your eyes, shiny and threatening.

“I… was hungry” and then quickly add a “I’m sorry” that barely escapes your lips.

“So you’ve been working out this brilliant plan?” Joel teases, his deep voice giving you goosebumps.

After Joel suggests taking you out, Tess remains silent for a while, looking at you like a piece of meat “She’s pretty though,” and an even more chilling smile spread across her face, “fuck, you’re too pretty for being a rat”

“Yeah” Joel agrees “here’s a tip for you, honey, if you wanna screw someone try not to let your stupid ass show”

They exchange another knowing glance that doesn't bode well and Tess finally speaks “we could have some fun.”

Guided by self-preservation and fear, you widen your eyes and exclaim, “Oh no, please no!”

Tess places her hand under your chin, manipulating your face like a puppet, turning it left and right to inspect it. “You’re not sick, are you?”

You remain silent and after a few seconds you feel her open hand land on your cheek and an unbearable burning sensation spread across your skin.

What you feel immediately after is the cold steel of the gun under your chin.

“See, she doesn’t like it when people don’t answer her,” Joel whispers in your ear, adding more shivers to the ones already shaking your body.

You open your mouth, struggling to get out some sound. “No” is all you can say.

“Good,” Tess hisses. Joel’s grip on your wrists shows no sign of loosening and your cheek hurts like hell.

There’s no way out.

“Since you were stupid enough to try to sneak in, from now on you will stay here.” Tess announces to you, with a voice that does not allow protests “And you will be our little toy”

She runs a hand over your neck, goes down to your breast and squeezes it hard over your shirt “Do you understand?”

“Yes” you whisper immediately, fearing another blow.

You don’t have enough strength to rebel, you are weak while they are incredibly strong, your head is spinning and you are one against two.

To make sure you don’t get any weird ideas, Joel ties you to the bed. He runs a rope between one of the bricks and the frame of the bed, chuckling evilly, “I’m sorry honey, but I have to, your little head is too imaginative to let you loose in here.” The way he looks at you it’s disturbing, licking his lips in anticipation of what he’ll do to you that night.

He’s not sorry at all.

He can't wait to use you as he wants.

His gaze is intense and dark and you feel like he can get under your skin and read your every thought.

Tess controls Joel's moves, gun still in her hand and when you are completely at their mercy, lying on the bed, with the rope that at most allows you to turn on your back, she bends down to look at you, running the cold steel of gun on your face. You feel tears stinging your eyes as you look at her "oh come on don't do that, after all it's always better than breaking your delicate back with those shitty jobs, right?"

Her mellifluous voice makes you furious, does she think she did you a favor? You would like to spit in her face, on that cold and evil face of hers but you don't.

You can’t.

There's no point in trying to fight back, they'd kill you.

You know that.

They both go off to who knows where and you stay there, waiting, unable to do anything else.

________________________________

It’s the dead of night when the door creaks again and they come back in. Your wrists hurt, you feel stiff, exhausted even though you’ve done nothing but lie there, consumed by fear.

Tess is the first to approach “so kitten, have you been good today?” she coos wickedly and pats your head just like you’re her pet.

You feel a blind rage fill you as she calmly sits on the bed and takes off her boots.

Joel sits on the other side, takes off the dark blue denim shirt he is wearing and unlaces his combat boots.

You are lying on your back now and you crane your neck to watch them.

It’s incredibly frustrating for you to realize that both of your kidnappers are gorgeous.

Tess has a cold beauty, long dark blonde hair framing her face, her lean body reveals itself before your eyes as she takes off her clothes.

She has several scars scattered across her back and arms that make her look even more dangerous, adorning her skin like battle wounds. Battles that somehow she has always won. She’s feral as a lioness and as wicked as a demon.

You never knew you were into women but looking at her right now you can’t deny to find her attractive.

Joel on the other side is tense and nervous as a violin string, rippling muscles and large calloused hands, messy hair and a scruffy beard covering his cheeks.

Your eyes are drinking in his figure, glaring on his broad shoulders, strong neck and plush lips.

He’s definitely the most handsome man in the QZ.

He too has several wounds that blend into his olive skin, giving him the aspect of someone who cannot be argued with in the slightest.

In the little time you have already spent together, however, you have noticed how he bends to Tess's will, as if he were a guard dog always on alert to protect her.

Tess is the brains, Joel is the arm.

He's placed a large switchblade on his pillow, there to remind you that you have no escape.

They are both in their underwear, their clothes lying on the floor. Tess orders Joel to untie you, the rope slowly loose on your wrists as Joel warns you “you better not make a single move or you will regret it, slut”. His voice in your ear is terrifying, bouncing around in your head like a nightmare you can’t wake up from.

“Good girl” Tess praises you briefly while you remain still, before ordering “undress her”

Joel unceremoniously removes your jacket and shirt, throwing everything on the floor. He unhooks your bra, brushing his fingertips along your back, and you shiver imperceptibly.

As your bra comes off, the pills you’ve hidden inside fall onto the bed, rolling onto the blanket. Tess shakes her head, squinting “What are those? Didn’t you say you were hungry? Do you need pills to feed yourself, you little whore?” her voice is like ice and the blade of the knife abandoned on the bed is suddenly at your throat, held by Joel.

Your voice breaks into tears as you try to justify yourself. You try to say that they are only for you, just painkillers, you’re not a drug addict, you won’t sell them, you won’t try to ruin their business.

“Pfff and we should believe you?” Joel scoff, laughing from behind your back, tugging violently on your arm and sliding the blade on your skin.

“I-please”

You don't even know what to say anymore.

"Stop whining, it gets on my nerves” Joel warns you as he slightly dig the blade into your cheek, scratching you just a little, just to let you taste the flavor of iron.

“You'll be a very good pet for us, won't you?” Tess whispers leaning close to your ear and running her fingers along your arm.

Tears now roll freely down your cheeks. She wipes away a tear and licks its salty taste from her thumb, pleased.

“Yes, I’ll be good I - I promise” you sigh.

“You certainly will be, if you don't want to taste Joel's knife.” He grins behind you and leave the switchblade on the sheets.

Your bra joins the other clothes on the floor as Tess squeezes one of your nipples between her fingers. She isn't gentle, she isn't delicate, her hand is firm, demanding, her fingers calloused.

After all, she isn't one to back down from a fight and everything about her shows it.

She pulls, pinches and twists, treating your nipple as if it belongs to her and she can do whatever she wants with it, looking you straight in the eye, intimidatingly, without even flinching.

Joel is still behind your back, sitting on the bed and he reaches for your hips, his large hands enveloping them and his fingers pressing hard into your flesh. He leans down and runs his tongue all the way up your spine, going up your shoulder and biting hard where it joins your neck. You cry out. You know it will leave a mark on you, his teeth tattooed on your skin.

Tess slaps your tit when a moan slips through your lips at the sensation of having Joel sucking hard on your skin, leaving more marks on your neck, his beard scratching you.

“You fucking like it, don’t you, pet?” She teases.

You can’t say anything, a stinging pain spread across your chest and you wonder how strong she really is despite her slim figure.

Joel detaches from you and Tess makes you lying on the bed again, unbuttoning and tugging down at your jeans, leaving you in nothing more than your ridiculously worn panties, they’re so old they’re basically see through but it’s not like you can have something fancy in the QZ.

She spots a wet stain right in the front and she smiles fake sweetly, you can still see the evil in her ice cold eyes.

She takes the hem and just rip them off, exposing your bare cunt.

You gasp and try to gather your hands in front of you for covering your privates but you can’t, Joel is still holding your wrists in a dangerous grip.

She laughs at your clumsy attempt “darling, rebelling won't do you any good, I thought I was clear before”

“Please,” you whisper, “please let me go. I didn’t steal anything in the end, I’m never coming back.”

“No,” she says firmly, “no. Do you know why? You don’t mess with us, you don’t even try. You have a lesson to learn.”

Her fingers run over your leg cold. You don't have time to beg again as another slap hits you. "Poor little girl, didn't your mother teach you manners? We'll have to think about it ourselves." She says, pursing her lips.

She slaps your cunt.

You throb.

And you’re wet.

You hate every cell in your body that is getting sexually aroused by them.

Your brain says no, but your body isn't following suit and you can't really explain it.

What was once pain is turning into a creeping, crawling tingle that runs under your skin.

Back in the days you had a boyfriend that used to fuck you roughly and you liked that but you certainly never thought to be aroused by people holding you captive.

It’s insane.

She lifts one of your legs up high, holding it tightly by the ankle as Joel brings your arms above your head on the bed and his grip continues to secure your wrists.

“Um, look at you. What a delicious wet pussy.” Tess coos.

Joel grunts at the sight “such a needy slut”

Tess positions herself between your legs and begins to rub herself on your pussy.

She doesn’t care a bit about treating you like a person, making your joints ache for the unnatural position, one leg impossibly strained with her grip and the other one straight on the bed with your thigh hurting under her weight.

You’re their muppet now.

The friction between your pussies makes you feel ashamed at first, you've never done it before. With each thrust of Tess on you, however, you begin to feel a heat enveloping your lower abdomen, going straight down to your clit making it sensitive and swollen.

You’re excited, as much as you hate to admit it.

Tess is wild, she’s claiming your body like a predator does with its prey, her small and perfectly shaped tits are bouncing in the air, nipples pink and hard.

You're biting your lip hard, holding back the moans that try to escape from the back of your throat.

You don’t know what came over you but wouldn't mind sucking on them .

You look up at Joel who towers over you, his gaze glassy, ​​fixed on your pussies slamming together making the most obscene sounds you've ever heard, like a squish on loop, wet and slippery.

Tess looks at you, her face twisted into an evil grimace as she groans and curse.

You're trying to control yourself in every way but your body responds, you feel a rush of pleasure flooding you. Fuck. It's like your brain is leaking out of your cunt.

You’re gasping under Tess.

Your hips move trying to seek more friction.

Hot tears stream down your face as you moan. You can’t believe how fucked up this is.

“Oh yeah, baby, go ahead and cry, be a pathetic whining mess, we don't give a shit. Your whore pussy is ours now.” Joel growls.

He moves in front of your face, his large hand covers your cheek completely and squeezes it hard, pinching your skin mercilessly before giving you a slap. You feel an unbearable heat radiating on your skin, you haven't even moved your arms even though he has let go of his grip.

“You’re just a plaything,” Tess echoes, “and you’re enjoying it, aren’t you, little scammer?”

Tess grinds against you relentlessly, she reaches down and twists your clit with two fingers and a wail of pain breaks from your lips.

You feel delirious under her ministration, her body takes what it wants from you and there's nothing you can do to stop it, on the contrary. Your nipples are so pebbled they look like little rocks on your chest, your cunt so sloppy and wet that your cream is lasciviously trickling on your inner thighs, you don’t recognize yourself anymore.

Tess comes above you, callin names and stuttering angrily.

You whine again and Joel barks “it’s time for you to shut up, slut”

He pulls down his boxers with a dark look and an incredibly devious smile plastered on his face. His cock is right in front of your eyes, semi hard, he spits in his palm and starts fisting it, up and down his length. It’s thick and swollen, more big than you expected.

His angry red tip almost touches your lips, he reaches for your jaw and pulls it “open wide, slut” he orders. Your lips are pressed together, you try to resist, but Joel takes a handful of your hair, pulling hard.“I. Said. Open. Wide.” punctuating each word with a stronger tug.

You can’t help but doing it, he’s basically tearing off your hair while Tess is still having no mercy of your cunt. She moves on the sheets and she stick two of her fingers in your cunt, up to the knuckles “Jesus, you’re fucking soaked baby, such a good slut”

Joel forces his cock into your mouth and begins to push inside you until he reaches the back of your throat, not letting you get used to it, your cry is muffled by your lips tightening around his shaft. His taste spread across your tongue as he moves abruptly into you, in and out of your lips. Your mind is fuzzy, you try to breathe from your nose but all you can feel right now is the aching of your jaw and the way Tess is scissoring her fingers inside your hole. They have no mercy and you’re madly aroused with it.

It’s not like you’re expecting something good from life at this point. Life isn’t gentle anymore, you lost everything a long time ago, you’re just trying to stay afloat biting off what you can and expecting nothing but bites back until the day fate or destiny decides it's over for you.

You don't know if there's a hint of what they call Stockholm Syndrome in all this but here you are, willing to be free use, for them to ruin, right on the verge of losing your mind. You’re pliant and hungry now, sucking on Joel cock like a good meal after a whole month of starvation, you’re reaching his balls with your hand, massaging and squeezing it lightly. Tess is watching you and she doesn't seem happy with the way you're trying to be, her hand lands again on your pussy, heavy and cruel, right on your clit.

“Oh don’t be too much of an ass kisser, I never liked them. And don’t do anything until we tell you to”

Joel grunts deeply as you let go of his ball “fuck I liked that though” and he grabs your hand back “since you like it, touch it, you dirty whore”

Tess rolls her eyes and slaps your pussy again and again until you feel your skin burning and you know you're about to come, your muscles are tense and your legs start to tingle as well as the bottom of your belly.

Tess understands and stops. “Oh, one more thing, you come if and when we decide.” A moan rises from deep in your chest and vibrates on Joel’s cock.

“Keep sucking” Joel urges you groping and squeezing your tits.

You move painfully up and down his length, him holding the back of your skull. Tess watches you, studying your reactions, a hint of jealousy in her eyes as Joel continues to thrust into your mouth, urging you “like this, little bitch, keep going - OH FUCK”

You can feel your cunt throbbing, screaming for a release.

Tess is giving you occasional kitten lick, so soft and so evil at the same time ‘cause you’re right on the edge. It’s a torture, an unbearable struggle that you can take anymore. Your cunt is clenching around nothing, your clit swollen and sore, you’re feeling delirious and you’re not allowed to come.

Tess picks up the knife again and you feel it slide across your inner thigh, it’s cold on your sweat-beaded skin and it makes you shiver. It rises dangerously close to your center, her evil eyes obsessively following the path of the blade. A sharp smile spreads across her face as she begins to sink the tip into your flesh, just enough to scratch your skin. You’re choking your whines on Joel’s cock as you smell blood in the air. It feels like she’s writing something, her trajectory is meticulous and careful, she pulls the blade out smiling again, satisfied with her work.

“Here you go, now everyone will know what kind of whore you are. If you ever get out of here”

She runs her tongue over what she just branded into your skin, your body shakes, your back arches insanely seeking for that delicious line between pain and pleasure, it’s stinging and soothing at the same time.

Joel is spilling inside you, his cum invading your mouth, painting your tongue and sliding warm down your throat. His face is red and sweaty, he's gritting his teeth, his neck is tense, his merciless hand holds you still clinging to your neck, he looks like a wild animal ready to devour you.

“Swallow it all, bitch” And you do it, you have no other choice. And you like it. You like the feel of his vein pulsing against the roof of your mouth, the heat and weight of him on your tongue, his musky flavor. It distracts you from the pain spreading across your thigh.

Joel only pulls out of your mouth when you've licked it clean.

It’s softening but it’s still the biggest cock you’re ever had.

He whispers in a hoarse voice that you are a very good little pet, smiling at you nastily, his big hands filling with your breasts, calloused and heavy, your nipples still hard under his palms.

Tess chuckles “yeah, she’s not that bad. And she’s a real fucking slut, aren’t you, honey? Your pussy is hungrier than your stomach”

You don't answer her, you are enraptured by Joel's dark and lascivious eyes, naked and helpless on the bed, branded like a cow, stupid and drunk on sex.

Your mind is no longer thinking clearly.

They both lie down on the bed to catch their breath, leaving you naked and sore at the foot of it, like a rag doll.

You never imagined this would happen to you when you came in here. And then, when they found you, the first thing you thought was that they were going to kill you. You're still here. Exhausted, in pain as you stare at the ceiling, sweat cooling on your skin.

You wonder how long it will last, where they will dump you when they get tired.

You're still alive anyway, that's enough.

There is definitely something rotten in you. You want to get up and see the word Tess wrote on your thigh but you are not brave enough. You trace it with a finger, shivering with pain, feeling your skin pull and pinch where it is starting to heal. If your touch is right it says “pet”.

[amethystarachnid]

Pleeeeease, write a part two of Office Romance for us??? 😭😭😭

OFFICE ROMANCE - part 2

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance, rom-com, more angst

ᯓ★ Word count: 7k

ᯓ★ Part 1

ᯓ★ Summary: from @zeynbellastark's comment under part 1: Will there be a second part where the reader and Tony's relationship is revealed and misinterpreted because of Nathan?

ᯓ★ TW(s): little spicy scenes, nothing too explicit

ᯓ★ Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

A few months into your relationship, keeping things a secret is turning out to be a lot harder than you expected. Not because you aren’t careful, but because Tony Stark is the most needy and touchy boyfriend in existence.

He has no concept of boundaries. He’s constantly finding excuses to touch you, stand too close, or outright pull you into his lap when you’re in his office. He whines when you try to make him do actual work instead of flirting with you. He sneaks kisses when he thinks no one is looking. And worst of all, he pouts every single time you remind him that you’re supposed to be keeping things professional at work.

It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly dramatic about it.

Like right now.

"Baby," Tony groans, slumping back in his chair. "I need my daily dose of affection before I collapse from lack of love. Do you want me to collapse? Because that’s what’s gonna happen. Right here. In my chair. You’ll have to explain to the press that I died of neglect."

You don’t even look up from your clipboard. "You’ll live."

Tony gasps. "Heartless. And after all I’ve done for you."

"You mean after all I do for you?" You raise an eyebrow at him. "Like keeping your schedule organized, making sure you actually show up to your meetings, and preventing you from sending inappropriate emails at two in the morning?"

Tony waves a hand dismissively. "Technicalities. Minor details. The point is, I am suffering and you’re ignoring me."

You finally glance up, giving him a look. "We’re at work, Tony."

"So? I think it’s important for morale if the boss gets occasional hugs. Or kisses. Or, you know, a full-on makeout session." He smirks. "For stress relief purposes, obviously."

You roll your eyes. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, you love me anyway."

You hate that he’s right.

But you stay strong. "No PDA in the office, remember? We agreed."

Tony groans dramatically, dragging his hands down his face. "Yeah, yeah, because someone is worried about people calling her a gold digger." He narrows his eyes at you. "You do realize that’s insane, right? No one with a functioning brain would think that."

You sigh. "Tony—"

"No, seriously, do you know who I am? I could date a literal queen and people would still say she’s the lucky one. No one’s gonna think you are after my money, because I don’t date women who need my money. I date women who are awesome. Which you are. The most awesome, actually."

Your heart squeezes, but you shake your head. "That’s sweet, Tony, but you know how people talk. And you might not care, but I do. I worked really hard to get this job, and I don’t want people thinking I’m only here because I’m sleeping with you."

Tony sighs, but there’s no real fight in it. He gets it. He just doesn’t like it.

"So no kissing in the office," he mutters.

You nod. "No kissing in the office."

There’s a pause. Then Tony smirks. "Can I lick you in the office?"

You nearly choke. "What? No!"

"Just checking," he says innocently.

You throw a pen at him.

Despite his complaints, Tony does try to behave.

For about two hours.

Then he starts up again.

First, it’s subtle. He stands too close when you bring him a file, his arm brushing against yours unnecessarily. Then, he starts calling you into his office for completely pointless reasons, just to have you near him. By lunchtime, he’s at his neediest.

"I miss you," he whines, dragging you into the break room with him.

"You saw me five minutes ago," you point out.

"Yeah, but I haven’t touched you in five minutes, and that’s unacceptable."

You look around nervously, making sure no one else is in the room. "Tony—"

He traps you against the counter, caging you in with his arms. "Just one kiss," he pleads. "No one’s around."

You hesitate, because you do want to kiss him. But the second you lean in, the door swings open and you barely manage to shove him away before Rhodey walks in.

"Hey, I was just looking for—" Rhodey stops, eyes narrowing. "What’s going on in here?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, stepping away from Tony.

"Absolutely nothing," Tony adds. "Completely normal, work-related activities."

Rhodey glances between the two of you, suspicion all over his face. "Uh-huh."

Tony clears his throat. "So, uh, what do you need, buddy?"

Rhodey crosses his arms. "I need you to stop being weird."

Tony scoffs. "I’m not being weird."

"You are being weird."

"I think you’re imagining things."

Rhodey raises an eyebrow. "Right. Sure. And you definitely weren’t just about to make out in the break room."

Your eyes widen in horror. "We weren’t—"

Rhodey holds up a hand. "I don’t wanna know. Just keep it out of the office."

Tony grumbles as Rhodey walks away, but when you glance at him, he’s smirking.

"See? He doesn’t care. No one cares. We’re being too careful, babe."

"You just proved why we have to be careful!" You groan, pushing past him. "And now I have to avoid Rhodey for a week."

Tony follows you out, grinning like a man who enjoys making your life difficult.

You do your best to keep things professional for the rest of the day, but Tony isn’t making it easy. Every time you turn around, he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you. Every time you walk past, his hand brushes against yours. And when you’re in a meeting together, he texts you inappropriate things under the table.

By the time your shift ends, you’re exhausted.

But as usual, when it’s time to go home, Tony has other plans.

"My place?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. "You act like we don’t already spend every night together."

Tony smirks. "I just like hearing you say yes."

You huff, grabbing your bag. "Yes, Tony. Let’s go to your place."

He grins. "Best assistant ever."

You shake your head as he grabs your hand, dragging you toward the elevator.

Keeping your relationship a secret is exhausting.

But being with Tony? That part’s easy.

---

The moment you step into Tony’s penthouse, he tugs you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you so close that there’s barely any space between you.

"You really missed me today, huh?" you tease, running your fingers through his hair.

"You have no idea," Tony murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against your skin. "It’s torture being at work and not being able to touch you the way I want."

You laugh, feeling warmth spread through your chest. "You did touch me all day."

"Not enough," he huffs. "Never enough."

You roll your eyes, but your heart is fluttering. He’s been like this since you started dating—clingy, affectionate, and completely obsessed with being near you. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it.

"Come on," you say, pulling back slightly. "Let’s have dinner first. Then you can suffocate me with love."

Tony smirks. "Deal."

Dinner is surprisingly peaceful. You both cook together, which mostly consists of you doing the actual work while Tony steals bites of food and wraps his arms around you from behind. It’s domestic, warm, and easy—something you never expected when you first started working for him.

When you sit down to eat, Tony doesn’t take his eyes off you, watching you with a fond smile. "Have I told you how much I love you today?"

"Only about a hundred times," you say, grinning.

"Not enough, then." He reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. "I love you."

Your heart melts. "I love you too, Tony."

After dinner, he insists on dancing. There’s no music, just him pulling you into the middle of the living room and swaying with you, like he wants to hold onto the moment forever. He presses lazy kisses to your temple, your cheek, your lips.

And when he starts kissing you properly, you forget about everything else.

One kiss turns into two, then three, and before you know it, you’re tangled up in each other on the couch. Clothes come off piece by piece as Tony worships every inch of your skin, murmuring how much he adores you, how lucky he is, how he’ll never let you go.

It’s slow, passionate, and full of love.

Afterward, you end up in the bathtub together, warm water surrounding you as you lean against Tony’s chest. His arms are wrapped around you, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"You okay?" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You hum, turning your head to kiss his jaw. "Perfect."

He smiles, squeezing you tighter. "Good. Because I plan on keeping you forever."

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. "You are so sappy tonight."

"Get used to it, sweetheart," he says, grinning. "I’m never gonna stop."

You stay in the bath until the water starts to cool, and even then, Tony refuses to let go of you. You finally convince him to get out, both of you wrapping yourselves in fluffy towels as you step into the bedroom.

That’s when Tony’s phone buzzes.

At first, he ignores it, but then it buzzes again. And again. And again.

He frowns, grabbing it from the nightstand. The second he looks at the screen, his entire body tenses.

Your stomach twists. "Tony?"

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are glued to the screen, his jaw clenched, his hands gripping the phone so tightly you think he might break it.

You step closer, peeking over his shoulder. And the moment you see the messages, your heart drops.

Someone leaked photos of you together.

Not just any photos—intimate ones. Not explicit, but damning enough. You kissing in the office, Tony looking at you like you hung the stars, his hand on your lower back as you walked together. One of you in his car, laughing, him leaning in close.

And the headlines are even worse.

"Tony Stark’s New Plaything? Inside His Affair With His Assistant."

"Caught in the Act: How Tony Stark’s Employee Seduced Him."

"Gold Digger or True Love? The Question on Everyone’s Mind."

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut.

Your relationship isn’t even a secret anymore. But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is how they’re portraying you. Like you’re just another woman using Tony for money and power. Like you seduced him, manipulated him into a relationship.

Like you don’t actually love him.

Your hands tremble as you scroll through the articles. "Tony…"

His expression is dark. "I’m gonna kill whoever leaked this."

You swallow hard. "It looks bad."

"It looks bullshit," he growls.

"People are going to believe it." Your voice is barely a whisper.

Tony turns to you immediately, grabbing your face in his hands. "Hey. No. I don’t care what people think. You know the truth. I know the truth. That’s all that matters."

You shake your head. "But my job, Tony. My reputation—"

"You think I’m gonna let anyone ruin that?" His eyes burn with determination. "I’ll shut this down so fast they won’t even know what hit them."

Tears well up in your eyes. "I worked so hard to get here. And now everyone’s going to think I just slept my way to the top."

Tony’s face twists with guilt. "This is my fault."

"No—"

"Yes, it is," he says firmly. "I should’ve protected you better. I should’ve kept us a secret like you wanted. I should’ve—"

You shake your head. "No. Tony, this isn’t your fault."

He looks at you, eyes filled with frustration and regret. "Then why does it feel like I just ruined everything for you?"

You exhale shakily, leaning into him. "Because you love me."

His arms wrap around you tightly. "More than anything."

You close your eyes, trying to push away the panic rising in your chest. "What do we do now?"

Tony takes a deep breath. "We fight back."

You nod against his chest, clinging to him as he strokes your hair.

You don’t know what’s going to happen next.

But you know one thing for sure.

Tony Stark is never going to let the world tear you apart.

---

The next morning, stepping into the office feels like walking straight into a battlefield.

The moment you enter, the usual chatter in the bullpen dies down, replaced by hushed whispers and not-so-subtle glances in your direction. Your stomach twists, but you force yourself to hold your head high, keeping your face neutral as if you don’t notice the shift in the air.

You should have expected this. The leaked photos spread like wildfire overnight, plastered across every gossip site and social media platform imaginable. Your name is trending for all the wrong reasons.

"Tony Stark’s Assistant: Opportunist or Mistress?"

"Sleeping Her Way to the Top? Inside the Stark Industries Scandal."

"Another Gold Digger Secures Her Spot—How Long Until Stark Gets Bored?"

They make it sound like you schemed your way into Tony’s life, like you manipulated him, like you’re nothing but a mistake he made.

And judging by the looks people are giving you now, they believe it.

You walk towards your desk, trying to ignore the heavy weight of their stares. But it’s impossible to ignore the whispers.

"I knew something was going on."

"She didn’t seem special—guess she had other skills."

"Must be nice to sleep your way into a billionaire’s life."

"Can’t wait to see how fast he drops her."

Your throat tightens as you clench your hands into fists. The logical part of your brain tells you not to let it get to you, that these people don’t know the truth, that their opinions don’t matter.

But the truth is, they do matter. Because you worked so hard for this job. You spent years proving yourself, climbing your way up through hard work and dedication. And now, in the span of a single night, all of that has been erased.

Now, you’re just Tony Stark’s plaything.

You sit at your desk, trying to focus, but your hands are shaking as you type. You don’t even realize someone is standing next to you until a sharp voice cuts through the tense air.

"You really think you’re fooling anyone?"

You look up, meeting the cold gaze of Sarah, one of the senior executives. She crosses her arms, her lips curled in disgust.

"Excuse me?" you manage, though your voice comes out weaker than you’d like.

Sarah scoffs. "Don’t play dumb. We all saw the pictures. You must be proud of yourself, huh? Landing the richest man in the building? Too bad it won’t last."

Your stomach drops. "I—"

"You knew exactly what you were doing," she continues, her voice low and venomous. "I bet you played the sweet, hardworking assistant for years, just waiting for the right moment to throw yourself at him."

Your hands grip the edge of your desk. "That’s not—"

"Pathetic," she mutters under her breath before walking off.

You feel frozen in place, barely able to breathe.

And then the floodgates open.

A few feet away, two interns giggle as they whisper to each other, their gazes flickering toward you.

"Guess we know how to get promoted around here," one of them snickers.

"Yeah, should we start wearing shorter skirts?"

The security guard at the entrance barely spares you a glance when you pass him, but you catch the small shake of his head, like he’s disappointed in you.

Even people you used to be friendly with avoid your gaze. As if your presence alone is something shameful.

You want to scream.

You want to tell them they’re wrong, that you didn’t plan any of this, that you love Tony, that this isn’t some manipulative game you played to secure a future for yourself.

But what’s the point?

No one will believe you.

They’ve already decided what kind of person you are.

The final straw comes when you’re waiting for the elevator, and two employees step in behind you, continuing their conversation as if you’re invisible.

"Honestly, I don’t even blame him," one of them says. "Tony Stark has always been a womanizer. It’s just embarrassing that she actually thought she was different."

The other one laughs. "Yeah, it’s kind of sad. You can see it in the photos—she actually thinks he loves her. Give it a few months. He’ll get bored, and she’ll be back to being nobody."

The elevator doors open, and you step inside, your vision blurring.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until the doors shut, and the first tear hits the floor.

By the time you reach your desk again, your breathing is uneven, and your heart is pounding so hard it hurts. You can’t do this.

You can’t sit here and let them tear you apart like this.

You stand abruptly, grabbing your bag and rushing toward the exit before anyone can stop you. You don’t even care about what excuse you’re supposed to give.

You just need to get out.

The moment you step outside, the cold air hits your face, but it does nothing to soothe the ache in your chest. You’re gasping for breath, your hands shaking, your entire body feeling like it’s about to collapse under the weight of it all.

Your apartment is the only place you can think to go.

Not Tony’s penthouse.

Not home.

Because right now, you don’t want to be in his world.

Right now, it feels like you don’t belong there.

---

Tony notices almost immediately.

He’s in a meeting when FRIDAY quietly alerts him that you’ve left the building. That alone isn’t unusual—except for the fact that it’s in the middle of the workday, and you never leave without telling him.

A bad feeling settles in his chest.

The second the meeting ends, he strides out of the conference room, pulling out his phone and dialing you. It rings. And rings. And rings.

Then goes to voicemail.

"Hey, sweetheart. Call me back when you get this."

Nothing.

Something is wrong.

He checks the security feed at his penthouse first. If you needed space, maybe you went home—his home. But when the footage shows no sign of you, his stomach twists further.

That only leaves one place.

Your own apartment.

And that means you really don’t want to see him right now.

He clenches his jaw, forcing himself to take a deep breath. If he pushes too hard, if he storms over there, it could just make things worse.

He needs to give you time.

But he won’t just sit back and do nothing.

He turns to FRIDAY. "Get me every damn security feed from the office today. I want to know exactly what happened before she left."

It takes less than a minute before the AI pulls up multiple feeds. Tony watches as people whisper, glare, sneer. His fingers tighten into fists.

Then he sees her. Sarah.

That venomous bitch who’s always had something to say, standing over your desk, cutting you down with words he can’t hear but doesn’t need to.

Then the interns.

The guards.

The employees who looked at you like you were less than them.

The rage that fills him is cold and sharp.

They humiliated you. They made you feel like you didn’t belong.

They made you cry.

Someone is going to pay.

But first, he needs to find the source.

He moves to his desk, opening up Stark Industries’ private network. It takes him less than twenty minutes to trace the leak. The photos were uploaded from an encrypted server, but nothing is untraceable to him.

Nathan Ellis.

That pathetic excuse for a businessman who had the audacity to not only flirt with you but also harass you. The same guy Tony refused to work with because of his shady reputation.

This was revenge.

And Nathan made the mistake of thinking Tony wouldn’t retaliate.

"Oh, buddy," Tony mutters, a slow smirk curling at his lips, though his eyes burn with fury. "You have no idea who you just pissed off."

He cracks his knuckles and starts typing.

---

Your apartment feels suffocating.

You thought coming here would make you feel safe, away from the prying eyes and the cruel whispers, but it doesn’t. The silence is loud, your thoughts crashing over you like waves, pulling you under until you can barely breathe.

You’re curled up on the couch, knees hugged to your chest, your phone face down on the coffee table where you abandoned it hours ago. You haven’t checked the messages, haven’t looked at the calls. You can’t.

Because what if—what if Tony’s mad?

Not at the situation, but at you.

What if this is too much trouble? What if this is exactly why people don’t date coworkers? What if you just ruined everything?

A tear slips down your cheek, and you angrily wipe it away, sniffing.

You don’t want to cry anymore. You’re exhausted. Your body aches from how tense you’ve been all day, your head pounding from trying to hold yourself together.

You close your eyes and try to breathe, try to pretend that none of this is happening, that tomorrow everything will go back to normal—

A knock at the door makes you freeze.

You don’t move.

Another knock, firmer this time.

You know who it is.

But you’re not ready. You don’t have the strength to fight him, to argue, to pretend like you’re okay.

Another knock, followed by his voice.

"Sweetheart. I know you’re in there."

You swallow hard, eyes squeezing shut.

"Please let me in."

Your resolve crumbles.

You don’t even think. You just move.

When you open the door, Tony is standing there, his expression dark with worry. His eyes scan your face, your red-rimmed eyes, the way your shoulders are hunched like you’re trying to make yourself smaller.

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything. He just steps inside, kicks the door shut behind him, and pulls you right into his arms.

The moment he touches you, it’s over.

All the pain, all the exhaustion, all the fight drains from your body as you melt against him, gripping the front of his shirt like he’s the only thing keeping you standing.

He holds you so tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. His hand cradles the back of your head, his other arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you pressed to his chest.

"Got you," he murmurs. "I got you."

You bury your face into his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the warmth of his body grounding you.

For the first time all day, you feel safe.

He walks you backward, gently guiding you toward the couch. He sits first, pulling you with him until you’re curled up in his lap, your arms around his neck, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back.

Neither of you say anything for a long time.

You don’t need to.

Eventually, he pulls back just enough to look at you, brushing a thumb across your cheek, catching a stray tear.

"You okay?" His voice is so soft, so careful, like he knows you’ll break if he presses too hard.

You shake your head. "No."

He sighs, resting his forehead against yours. "I know, baby. I know."

Silence again.

Then, finally, he speaks.

"I know who leaked the photos."

You tense slightly but don’t pull away. "Who?"

"Nathan."

Your stomach drops. "What?"

Tony pulls back, watching your expression carefully. "Yeah. I did some digging. The photos were leaked from an encrypted server, but I traced it back to him. He wanted to screw me over after I turned him down. Figured humiliating you was the easiest way to do it."

You feel sick.

Nathan—the same man who made you uncomfortable, who tried to push boundaries—he did this.

Your hands curl into fists. "That son of a—"

"Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart," Tony interrupts, a dark smirk pulling at his lips. "I’m handling it."

You blink at him. "…What does that mean?"

Tony leans back against the couch, one arm still wrapped around you, the other resting on the armrest. He looks so smug, like he’s been waiting for this moment.

"It means Nathan Ellis is about to have the worst week of his life. And then the worst month. And then the worst year."

A chill runs down your spine. "Tony—"

"First," he continues, ignoring the warning in your voice, "I’m making sure every single investor, business partner, and connection he ever hoped to have knows exactly what kind of guy he is. Not just that he leaked my private life, but all the other shady shit he’s done."

Your eyes widen. "Other shady shit?"

Tony shrugs. "Did some digging. Turns out he’s been embezzling money from one of his companies. That’s gonna be a fun headline when it drops tomorrow."

You stare at him. "You’re ruining him."

"Uh-huh." He kisses the side of your head. "That’s step one."

Your heart pounds. "There’s more?"

Tony grins. "Oh, sweetheart. I’m just getting started."

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. "God, you’re terrifying."

He hums, pressing another kiss to your temple. "That’s why you love me."

You stiffen slightly.

Because yeah. That is why you love him.

And you almost lost everything today because of other people’s opinions.

You pull back, meeting his gaze. "Tony… what about the office? The way people treated me today—"

His expression hardens. "I checked the security footage. I saw everything."

Your stomach twists. "I—"

"They’re done."

You blink. "What?"

"Everyone who said anything to you today is done," Tony states, his voice sharp, cold. "I don’t keep employees who think it’s okay to treat my girl like that. If they want to gossip, they can do it unemployed."

Your lips part, completely speechless.

"I don’t care what people say about me," Tony continues, voice softening, fingers tracing your jaw. "But you? No one gets to talk about you like that. No one gets to make you feel like you don’t belong. You do belong. And if they can’t see that, they’re not worth keeping around."

A lump forms in your throat.

"Tony, you don’t have to—"

"Yes, I do." His grip tightens slightly, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away again. "I let this go on for hours. I should’ve been there. I should’ve stopped it before it got this bad. But I’m here now, and I promise you—this won’t happen again."

Tears well up in your eyes. "Tony—"

"I love you," he murmurs, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "And I’m not letting anyone make you doubt that."

And just like that, every wall you tried to put up shatters.

You grab his face and kiss him.

It’s soft at first—gentle, slow, reassuring. But Tony doesn’t stay patient for long. He pulls you closer, his hands cradling your face, his lips moving with a hunger that tells you he hated being away from you even for a few hours.

When you finally break apart, you rest your forehead against his, exhaling shakily.

"…I love you too," you whisper.

Tony lets out a breathy chuckle, pressing another quick kiss to your lips.

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice smug. "I know."

And just like that, you know everything will be okay.

---

The next morning, walking into the office feels completely different.

You’re still nervous—your stomach is in knots, and part of you is bracing for the worst. But there’s a different energy in the air, a tension that wasn’t there before.

The moment you step out of the elevator, people stare.

Not with judgment, not with the sneering whispers of yesterday. No, this time, they’re looking at you with fear.

A few of them instantly lower their heads, suddenly very interested in their work. Others swallow nervously, shifting in their seats. Some even stand up when they see you, as if to offer an apology, but you don’t stop walking.

You don’t need their apologies.

Tony handled it.

And by handled it, he cleaned house.

All the worst offenders from yesterday? Gone. Fired. Security escorted them out first thing in the morning, and apparently, it wasn’t a quiet affair. The entire office heard about it, and now, the atmosphere is heavy with the realization that this isn’t just gossip anymore.

This is serious.

Tony Stark doesn’t tolerate anyone disrespecting you.

As you make your way to your desk, the few employees left in the office shoot you nervous smiles. Some of them—those who didn’t participate in the rumors—actually seem relieved. As if they wanted to say something before but were too scared.

It feels good.

You settle into your chair, logging into your computer, still aware of the quiet hum of hushed voices around you.

Then, a familiar voice breaks through the tension.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

You barely have time to react before Tony strolls up behind you, hands sliding onto your shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head.

The entire office stops.

Someone gasps.

You stiffen, eyes wide, but Tony doesn’t seem fazed at all.

He squeezes your shoulders before moving in front of your desk, leaning against it like he owns the place—which, well, he does, but that’s not the point.

He looks smug.

Like he wants them to see.

"How’s my girl doing?" he asks, voice smooth, ignoring the stunned silence around you.

Your mouth opens and closes, heat rushing to your cheeks. "Tony—"

"Did you sleep well?" He tilts his head. "You know, after all that stress yesterday? I was so worried about you."

You shoot him a glare, whispering, "They’re staring."

He grins. "I know."

You resist the urge to bury your face in your hands. "Tony—"

"Relax, sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning in slightly. "No point in hiding now."

He’s right.

It still feels strange, after all the secrecy, after months of sneaking around and avoiding suspicion. But now? It’s out in the open. There’s nothing left to hide.

And the way Tony is looking at you—like you’re the only thing in the world that matters—makes it easier to forget the embarrassment.

You exhale, shaking your head. "You’re so annoying."

He smirks. "You love it."

Before you can argue, he leans in and kisses you.

Right there. In the middle of the office.

Someone drops their coffee.

The entire floor is dead silent.

When Tony finally pulls away, he looks completely unbothered, like this is totally normal.

"You’re impossible," you mutter, pushing him away lightly.

He winks. "That’s why you love me."

Then, before he heads into his office, he turns to the rest of the employees and says, loud and clear:

"Anyone else got a problem with this? No? Good."

And just like that, the conversation is over.

The day moves on, and while the office is still awkward at times—people whispering, adjusting to the new reality—it’s better. No more judgment. No more cruel remarks.

Just acceptance.

And, of course, Tony being completely shameless.

By the time lunch rolls around, he’s stolen at least six kisses, wrapped his arms around you twice in front of everyone, and somehow managed to convince you to have lunch in his office instead of the breakroom.

Which leads to you sitting on his desk, your half-eaten sandwich forgotten as Tony kisses you like he hasn’t seen you in years.

"Tony," you mumble against his lips. "You have work to do."

He hums, pressing a slow kiss to your jaw. "Work’s overrated."

You laugh, pushing at his chest. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re mine," he murmurs, pulling you in again.

You almost give in.

Until a sharp knock at the door interrupts the moment.

"Boss?"

Happy.

Tony lets out an exaggerated sigh, resting his forehead against yours. "If I fire him, do you think people will be mad?"

You snort. "Yes."

Another knock. "Boss, it’s important."

Tony groans, pulling away. "Fine. Come in."

Happy steps inside, looking incredibly unimpressed to see you perched on Tony’s desk.

"Press conference is set," he says. "Media’s already buzzing. It’s happening in two hours."

Your brows furrow. "Press conference?"

Tony grins. "Oh, did I forget to mention that part?"

You give him a look. "Tony."

He sighs dramatically. "Sweetheart, I may have scheduled a press conference to publicly ruin Nathan and clear your name. But only because I love you."

Your stomach flips. "What?"

Happy shakes his head. "He wants to make sure no one ever calls you a gold digger again."

Tony nods. "Exactly. They’re about to learn real fast that if they mess with my girl, they mess with me."

You stare at him, heart pounding. "Tony…"

He shrugs, completely casual. "What? You didn’t actually think I was gonna let them say that shit about you, did you?"

Your throat tightens.

He really loves you.

And he’ll always protect you.

You swallow hard, nodding. "Okay."

Tony grins, leaning in for another kiss.

Happy clears his throat. "Can you not make out in front of me?"

Tony waves him off. "Get used to it, Happy. She’s not going anywhere."

And as you press your lips to Tony’s again, feeling his smile against yours, you know he’s right.

You’re home.

---

A few minutes before the press conference, you’re pacing.

The media is already set up, cameras pointed at the stage, microphones lined up, and reporters buzzing with anticipation. Tony is off somewhere with Happy, probably going over some last-minute details, but your heart is still racing.

You know Tony.

You know he’s going to say something outrageous.

Something insane.

Something that will probably make headlines for the next month.

But you trust him.

Even if your nerves are eating you alive.

Just as you take a deep breath, Tony’s voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Sweetheart, I need you."

You turn to find him striding towards you, looking criminally good in a sharp navy suit, the tie perfectly done, the fabric hugging him in all the right places.

Your brows furrow. "For what?"

He stops in front of you, tilting his head with a grin. "I need you to fix my tie."

You stare at him. Then glance down at the perfectly fine tie.

Then back at him.

"Tony," you deadpan. "Your tie is fine."

He sighs dramatically. "Babe, come on. It’s crooked."

"It’s not—"

"Just fix it, please," he says, giving you that look, the one that makes your knees weak, the one that somehow makes it impossible to say no.

You groan, stepping closer. "You’re ridiculous."

"And yet, you love me."

You ignore him as you reach up, pretending to adjust the knot even though there’s nothing wrong with it. Tony just watches you, smug, like he’s already won.

"You just wanted me to touch you, didn’t you?" you murmur, smoothing down his lapels.

His grin widens. "I always want you to touch me."

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks heat up. "Unbelievable."

Tony leans in, brushing his lips against your temple. "You keep me grounded, sweetheart."

Before you can respond, Happy clears his throat behind you.

"Stark, you’re up."

Tony sighs, stepping back, but not before squeezing your waist. "Showtime."

You follow as he heads toward the stage, but you stop just at the side, out of view of the cameras. This is his moment. You’re just here to support him.

Tony steps up to the podium, flashing the cameras a charming but dangerous smirk.

"Alright, let’s get this over with. I’ve got places to be, and I don’t enjoy wasting my time."

A few chuckles ripple through the audience, but the tension is thick.

"Now, I’m sure you’ve all seen the very dramatic headlines about me and my lovely assistant—oh, sorry, girlfriend—and how, apparently, she’s a master manipulator who somehow seduced me into dating her." He rolls his eyes. "Because obviously, I, a billionaire genius, couldn’t possibly make my own adult decisions."

The room shifts uncomfortably. Reporters scribble notes. Cameras flash.

Tony leans on the podium, looking unimpressed. "Listen, I know you guys love a good scandal, but this? This is just pathetic."

Someone raises a hand. "Mr. Stark, what do you say to claims that Miss Y/L/N is only with you for financial gain?"

Tony scoffs. "Right. Because I’m so easy to manipulate. Clearly, I just throw money at anyone who looks at me a certain way."

Laughter breaks out.

Another reporter tries. "But the leaked photos—"

"—were taken out of context," Tony interrupts, crossing his arms. "Do you seriously think a few pictures mean anything? Do you really believe that’s proof of some grand scheme?"

Silence.

Tony smirks. "Look, here’s the truth. Y/N didn’t seduce me. She didn’t trick me. If anything, it took me months to get her to even notice that I was in love with her."

Your heart clenches.

"And you know what else?" Tony continues, his voice dropping, turning sharp. "The fact that so many of you were so quick to attack her, to assume the worst, to act like she’s some gold digger while completely leaving me out of the equation?" He shakes his head. "That’s just disgusting."

The room is dead silent now.

"Y/N is the best thing that’s ever happened to me," Tony says, voice firm. "She’s smart, hardworking, way too good for me, and she sure as hell doesn’t deserve this bullshit."

The reporters exchange glances. Cameras keep flashing.

Tony straightens, tilting his head slightly. "And because I know some of you still don’t get it, let me make this crystal clear."

Then he turns—

And looks directly at you.

Your breath catches.

You shake your head slightly, eyes widening. "Tony—"

He grins. "Sweetheart, get up here."

Your stomach drops.

The reporters murmur. More flashes.

You freeze. "What?"

Tony beckons you with two fingers. "Come on, don’t make me beg."

The entire room watches as you hesitate.

But Tony’s waiting.

And there’s no way you’re leaving him up there alone.

Swallowing hard, you slowly step onto the stage, your heart hammering.

The second you’re close enough, Tony grabs your hand, pulling you right to his side.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announces, "this is my girl."

Before you can react, before you can process anything—

He kisses you.

Right there. In front of everyone.

The crowd erupts.

Shouts. Camera shutters. Absolute chaos.

But all you can focus on is him.

His lips are warm, firm, sure. His hands cup your face like you’re precious, like you’re his.

When he finally pulls back, he smirks at the stunned audience. "That answer your questions?"

The press conference is officially over.

---

Tony’s penthouse is quiet when you arrive, a stark contrast to the chaos of the press conference. The moment the elevator doors close behind you, you exhale, letting go of the last bit of tension clinging to your shoulders. Tony’s hand slides down your back, grounding you, pulling you into his warmth.

"Home sweet home," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You hum in agreement, tilting your head slightly to give him better access. "I still can’t believe you did that."

He grins, guiding you towards the couch. "You mean declaring my undying love for you in front of the entire press?"

You let him pull you onto his lap, rolling your eyes. "Yes, that."

Tony shrugs, looking completely unbothered. "Babe, I’d rent out a billboard if it meant shutting those idiots up." His fingers trace slow circles on your thigh, his touch lazy but possessive. "You’re mine. I’m not gonna let anyone make you feel like you don’t belong with me."

Your heart clenches, warmth spreading through your chest.

"I love you," you whisper, leaning in.

His eyes darken slightly, his grip tightening. "Damn right you do."

You don’t give him the chance to say anything else—you press your lips to his, swallowing whatever cocky remark was about to leave his mouth. Tony hums into the kiss, his arms wrapping around you, holding you against him. The world outside fades, leaving just the two of you tangled together.

One kiss turns into another. And another.

Then suddenly, you’re not on the couch anymore.

Tony carries you effortlessly to the bedroom, never once breaking the kiss. Clothes are shed, whispered promises exchanged between gasps, and before you know it, the night dissolves into nothing but heat and tangled sheets.

Later, when your bodies are spent and the adrenaline has melted into something softer, Tony pulls you to the bathroom, insisting on a bath.

You don’t protest.

The oversized tub is already filling with warm, fragrant water by the time he settles behind you, pulling you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you both soak in the comfortable silence.

"This is nice," you murmur, tracing light patterns on his forearm.

"Mhmm," Tony hums, his lips brushing against the damp skin of your neck. "We should do this every night."

You laugh softly. "I don’t think your schedule allows that, Mr. Stark."

"Then I’ll change my schedule," he replies, his voice casual but firm. "You’re more important."

Your breath catches slightly, and you tilt your head to look at him. He’s watching you, his brown eyes soft but intense.

"Move in with me," he says suddenly.

Your heart stops.

Tony smirks, like he knows exactly what kind of chaos he just unleashed in your brain. "That’s the face of someone overthinking."

"I am not—"

"Yes, you are," he teases, squeezing your waist. "So let me make this easy for you. You already basically live here. Half your clothes are in my closet, and let’s be honest, when was the last time you actually slept in your own apartment?"

You open your mouth. Close it.

Damn it. He has a point.

Tony grins, sensing his victory. "Just say yes, sweetheart."

You shake your head fondly. "You’re unbelievable."

"And yet, you love me," he reminds you, pressing a kiss just below your ear.

You sigh, melting against him. "Unfortunately."

He nips at your shoulder, making you giggle. "I’ll make you regret that later."

"I’d like to see you try."

Tony chuckles, but then his voice softens. "So… is that a yes?"

You turn slightly in his arms, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "It’s a yes."

His arms tighten around you, and you feel his grin against your skin. "Damn right it is."

[writingdevil]

Could you perhaps write something fluffy with Hero/Smitten? :>

I feel like Hero would get really flustered with how affectionate Smitten is, but feel like I haven't really seen many people explore that yet?

(AAH I agree! I love the idea of Hero getting flustered and wanting praise and I NEED to see him smothered with love, and who better to do that than Smitten? Enjoy!)

Hero wasn't sure what he was doing, but he knew his body was acting on its own, bolting into the closest room he could see.

His face was on fire. His mind was reeling. His heart was pounding.

He wrapped himself in a hug to try and calm his nerves, but his brain couldn't stop repeating that one phrase-

'You're so good for me, Hero.'

The way it had been said, the meaning behind those words, the way he reacted to those words-it all became too much for him, and he took off.

A large part of his brain was still in that moment, engulfed in all the heat and passion and excitement-but a smaller part of him was feeling guilt over running away like that.

He shouldn't of done it. But he was getting overwhelmed. But he shouldn't of done it-

He covered his face with his hands hands groaned loudly, his palms heating up under his cheeks.

"Hero?" Oh no.

"Hero? Is that you?"

Hero didn't respond, instead wrapping himself in his wings, as if that would successfully hide him.

But then the door flung open, and Smitten burst in, not even looking mad like he should be but worried.

When his eyes landed on Hero, his face fell into relief. "Hero! There you are! Are you alright?" Smitten rushed up to him, putting a delicate hand against the feathery wall blocking them

Hero tried to compose himself, tried to act in a way that Smitten wouldn't keep worrying about him, but then flashes of the five minutes prior to this moment spun in his mind.

Of the intense kissing. Of the gentle touching. Of the whispers-

"Yeah I'm fine!" Hero blurted out, in the most not fine way he could possibly manage. Smitten's gentle hands across his wings also wasn't helping.

Smitten's brows furrowed in concern and confusion. "But then why did you take off so suddenly? Did I do something wrong?"

It was more like what Smitten did made something feel right within Hero, and it mortified him to no end.

He just couldn't find the strength to say that though, so he just flashed Smitten what he hoped was a reassuring smile and said, "No, no, you didn't do anything wrong. I just-I-I-"

But then Smitten was peering at him with those soft, loving eyes, and words immediately died on his tongue, and Hero couldn't help but get lost in them.

As if against his will, his wings lowered, and Smitten wasted no time in reaching forward, wrapping his arms around Hero's middle and pulling him in closer, and Hero's body felt on fire from being pressed against Smitten's chest.

"My dear, please tell me if I've upset you in some way. It pains me so if I have."

Hero's hands instinctively went to Smitten's shoulders, and Hero tried to avoid the other's eyes as he said, "You haven't upset me, I promise you that."

"Then why did you take off? I thought we were both enjoying each other."

At that, Hero made a conflicted sound in the back of his throat, especially when Smitten cupped his cheek with one hand and tilted his head closer to him.

There was never exactly a good reason to take off suddenly when you're kissing someone, but Hero desperately needed to get out of there before he exploded. It wasn't that Smitten did anything bad to him, it was that he was being too good.

Hero's face flushed as he remembered the feelings that were flowing through him in that moment before. Love and passion for Smitten, excitement at what they were doing-and then Hero realised something awful about himself.

He liked the way Smitten spoke about him.

Every few seconds, Smitten would pepper in little whispers of praise that made Hero's brain stop working each time, sending a pleasure like no other through him.

So pretty. All mine. So good for him.

It all made his head spin, to the point that he froze, and it felt like he was about to combust if he didn't do something right now. The feelings were all good, but they were so new that they overwhelmed Hero, and when coupled with Smitten, who would also add kissing and gentle touches to the equation, Hero just needed to take a step back.

Unfortunately, Hero was having trouble articulating all of that, especially when Smitten kept getting really close to him in worry, and Hero's body still felt on fire from Smitten's touches, and he squeezed Smitten's shoulders for something to focus on.

He decided that looking into Smitten's eyes was a bad idea, and he looked away slightly as his face burned in embarrassment, and he quietly admitted, "It just got-too much."

"Too much?" Smitten echoed, tilting Hero's head up with a finger under his chin. Unfair. "What do you mean it was too much?"

Hero sighed and shuffled on the spot, feeling Smitten's soft yet worried gaze on him, and Hero just had to trust that Smitten would understand how weird he was being.

"It-It was really good, and then you started to say all those-" Hero paused as his feathers gave away his flustered state, "-things in my ear, it started to get too good for me. I kinda just needed a moment to myself."

"If you wanted a break, then why didn't you just say so?" Smitten asked, thankfully not sounding offended.

Hero chuckled lightly, finally finding the strength to look up at Smitten. "I'm not sure if you've met yourself Smitten, but you kinda-pile on the love real quick, and I didn't really get a chance to think. It was just a little overwhelming. "

That was when he felt Smitten deflate under his grip, and his voice was low with guilt as he said, "Oh, I see." His wings lowered to the ground and Hero felt him begin to pull away. "I'm sorry for smothering you. I'll see myself out-"

Before he could escape though, Hero rolled his eyes and pulled him back in. "I don't want you to leave, moron. I still want to be with you."

Smitten stared at him like he hadn't even thought of that as an option. Hero sighed and tried to keep holding eye contact with the other as he sheepishly asked, "Could we just take it a bit-slower?"

Smitten blinked at him, and then he was suddenly wrapping his arms around Hero's neck with a determined look on his face, and even his voice was serious as he said, "Why don't you show me what pace you would like to go at?"

Hero still felt that intensity under his skin, those passionate feelings that he wasn't used to, and that made him want to run away in mortification.

But instead, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pressed a soft kiss to Smitten.

The kiss was soft and tender, not like the all encompassing passion and fire that Smitten was known for at all, but it still felt amazing.

Hero kept the kiss slow and gentle, because that was all he could take right now without burning up all over again. He felt Smitten sigh into the kiss and press closer to Hero, but it felt like he was enjoying himself as well.

Good. Hero would hate to have to run away from Smitten again. As mortifying as it was to admit, Hero did want to be good for him.

[rhilumi]

I desperately need timber as BBC sherlock and Watson (or sherlock and co with darcy like mariana) I need more tim who acts like sherlock either way.

Bernard gains the psychosomatic limp from the cult. Or maybe like a psychosomatic heartburn???? The near miss really messes him up even though robin was there to save him.

Tim doesn't actually have the insane deduction skills sherlock does but what he does have is a wealth of information and insane detective skills. Instead of working stuff out on the spot like sherlock does he makes it his business to know everything about everyone so it appears like he does. (Doesn't mean he doesn't still have a high level of deduction jts just not on par)

Anyway bernard is freshly out of the cult and kicked out of his house with nowhere to go and little to no money. He's sat on the edge of a rooftop. He's not going to do anything (so he tells himself) he just likes the wind. But either way nightwing is here now.

"I'm not going to do anything"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"You just looked like you needed company."

Bernard doesn't respond.

"You got anywhere to go after this?"

"I'm 17"

"Same age as my brother."

Bernard silently grips onto his shirt.

"Listen, kid, I don't know you but I could probably get you a place to stay."

"I'm not the best roommate. "

"You're the second person who's said that to me today."

--

And that's how bernard ended up in Gotham marina with Timothy Drake (now Drake-Wayne) his former best friend who just ditched him when darla- laura- died.

"Long time no see"

"Mm. Listen we don't have to do this- my older brother is very annoying just thinks I shouldn't be living on my own."

"No- I need a place. And uh, no offense but doesn't the Wayne fortune mean you could afford something better than this"

"I like the challenge. And no offense but how did you end up in a cult- a pain cult of all things. Something tells me that it wasn't entirely curiosity or psychosis"

"Not something I want to talk about. Timmy."

"That heartburn is entirely psychosomatic by the way. Sorry for the personal question I needed to make sure and now I am."

"And how are you sure?"

"You started grasping at your chest when I started talking about the cult. Oh and I can tell your brain is working overdrive right now so answers:

1. My brother doesn't want me living alone because he thinks I have a tendency to run myself into the ground. I don't.

2. I can tell you were in a cult from the way you hold yourself, you're afraid of a very specific size and build of person, luckily not mine so if I have to have a roommate he's not afraid of me. Pain cult because of the myriad of deliberate self inflicted or otherwise scars. The psychosis was a shot in the dark based on what I previously knew of you but your reaction tells me I was correct.

And finally I'm acting so differently to how you knew me because I'm desperately trying to get you to dislike me so I can live on my own without someone watching over me."

"Fucking hell."

"Anyway! Want to go in?"

--

I keep rotating them in my head. Bernard with psychosis headcanon delightfully taken from @littlepikmins .

I may write more but that relies on motivation and I severely lack that.

This is also entirely self indulgent lol