#just pure hearted good ol fluff

[rotepandasocken]

Fadeshockies canon

[cheralith]

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, use of she/her pronouns, "mother"/"daughter"/"wife" used, parental death, mentions of child abandonment, not too much mention of him being spider-man

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, hints of pining, just some good ol' fluff for everyone's current favorite dilf, angst w/ comfort, heavy need of editing prob, not beta read

notes ; purely self-indulgent to fuel my love of found family trope apologies

parts: one two three four (tba)

Single Father!Miguel O'Hara whose life revolves essentially around one person—his daughter—but to be one of the heads of America’s largest corporation and bearing the responsibility of keeping Nueva York safe and sound whilst simultaneously being a single father was not exactly something that Miguel O’Hara could juggle so easily. Hell, he’s even surprised that he’s made it so far without losing his absolute sanity considering he couldn’t even recall the last time he was able to rest properly without his attention being wavered to something or someone else.

Single Father!Miguel whose hands always filled to the brim with tasks and obligations. Miguel wished he was able to clone himself twice in order to have three Miguel O’Haras attending to each of his duties soundly, but alas, Alchemax and the matter of his mind can only do so much.

Single Father!Miguel whose ever so lucky to have you as his assistant to at least help with two out of three of them. You entered the picture around three years ago, when he had caught the eye of his superiors and had used his intelligence to their own advantage, disguising it as a promotion of sorts. You were given as some sort of gift to them as a way to help ease his workload and he truly couldn’t be more thankful for your existence—if he doesn’t necessarily show it most of the time from his stoic countenance he masks on 24/7. While not exactly a carbon copy of him, you, by far, come rather close, and Miguel will take whatever comes to him in this day and age.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that you're obedient and demure, though rather soft spoken and a little too apprehensive for his liking at times (he had noticed, before you became his assistant, that your coworkers would shovel their workload onto you and you’d accept with little complaint but evident hesitation; he wonders if it was the given similarities between you and him that made him choose you as his assistant). You dressed well, hung onto every word he said, and spoke out when properly needed. You were a good aid to have around—great, even.

Single Father!Miguel who trusts you as both his assistant and a human being enough to leave his precious daughter in your care knowing full well she would be in good hands. Sometimes Alchemax would work him overtime, sometimes his duties as Spider-Man would interfere. No matter what it was, it delayed him from seeing and attending to his daughter’s needs, and thus, he had asked you once in a while to pick up and babysit his daughter after your usual 9-5.

Single Father!Miguel who, at the beginning, once in a while asked you to pick his daughter up from school. Once in a while turned into occasionally. Occasionally turned into sometimes. Sometimes turned into constantly, and next thing Miguel knew, you were the one that his daughter and teachers would look out for during school pick up time. He didn’t expect that you would become his assistant even outside of work, but you did, and Miguel can’t exactly turn back time now. He’s labeled you as his child’s unofficial secondary caretaker—you’re even listed as an emergency contact.

Single Father!Miguel who thinks you’re too polite for your own good. Miguel had asked you once if this was a burden, being his assistant both in and out of Alchemax, and if it became too much that you were more than free to quit at any sudden time without consequence. You had merely replied that you understood the struggles of being a single parent and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for help when it was needed. 

Single Father!Miguel who notices that Gabriella views you more than just her occasional babysitter. When he'd come home late at night, he was usually greeted by you two doing something together, whether it be doing math homework together, baking cookies, you reading aloud to her, or just simply talking, he'd always catch you and her almost... bonding.

Single Father!Miguel who often dwells on the memory of young Gabriella asking innocently why she doesn't have two parents like the rest of her classmates, why she only had one parent compared to everyone else after witnessing she was the odd one out during Family Day. Miguel didn't, and still doesn't, have the courage to tell her that her real mother had abandoned her to him, leaving Miguel in the dust. Miguel used her naivety to his advantage. He disguised it as her being unique compared to others, that some moms just came later in life; she just happened to be a late bloomer.

Single Father!Miguel who always thanks you for staying late tucking Gabriella into bed when he couldn't. You constantly tell him that it's truly no problem, but he insists on thanking you every time and ever so subtly increasing your paycheck. How could he not? Especially considering the fact you always, always whip him up extra dinner that was tucked away for him to eat during the late hours of night.

Single Father!Miguel who feels uneasy as he opens up a fridge to find the said pasta left by you one night in a glass tupperware container, staring at how neatly it’s been plated despite its standard container. He juts it into the microwave as he attempts to ignore how quiet and desolate the kitchen and the apartment is, how the humming of the microwave and the humdrum of the ceiling fan are the only noise that floats through. And when he quietly eats the pasta serving meant for one, he can’t help but gaze longingly at the empty seat across the dining table, where someone else should be seated with him sharing the same meal.

Single Father!Miguel who finally has the time to pick up his daughter after school for once in the school year, but forgot to tell you that you were able to take the rest of the day off. So you, him, Gabriella, and essentially everyone are surprised when both you and Miguel show up to pick Gabriella up after school. One of the teachers goes to gush about how she's excited to meet Gabriella's dad and what a beautiful family you all are, to which you and Miguel, evidently flustered, explain loosely your relationship to each other and how it's merely professional (to one curly-headed third grader, though, it's not—but she'd never tell you and her father that. At least not now.).

Single Father!Miguel who tags along to Gabriella's after school soccer practice for once and despite your protests about you not wanting to interfere "family time", Miguel and his daughter convince you to come watch her like you usually did on Wednesdays. He says he doesn't mind at all and if anything, could use your presence there to ease his nerves since he'd be a newcomer to the soccer parent group.

Single Father!Miguel who watches attentively to how you support Gabriella on the field from the sidelines. He wonders tenaciously if you've fallen into routine of this—from helping her get ready into her uniform to offering small suggestions that help her on the soccer field. He doesn't miss the way her eyes go towards you whenever she did something right and he especially catches onto the fact that she would gush in pure happiness from your approval when you would throw a thumbs up or a delighted nod.

Single Father!Miguel who merely blinks at the compliments given by the two friendly soccer mom next to him.

"Gabi does certainly look a lot like you, but she still has (Y/N)'s beauty and kindness, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, I agree. Your wife is nothing less of lovely, you know, you're a very lucky man, Mr. O'Hara!"

He's so caught up in trying to process both their words and Gabriella's action on the field, that it doesn't register to him until a few moments later. Miguel attempts to butt in, saying that you're just his subordinate, but when a loud cheer from the other team erupts through, his words fail him.

Single Father!Miguel whose mind is still so stuck on what the soccer moms had said about you that he didn't even realize Gabriella had made the winning goal for today's practice match. Lying through his teeth when asked about if he saw it from her, he realizes that perhaps he should start viewing you in a different light rather than just his daughter's babysitter because the way that Gabriella looks at you with such elation when you congratulate her on her win pulls at his heartstrings ever so slightly.

Single Father!Miguel who contemplates over and over again if he should be doing this—inviting you to Gabriella's first game of the season—the two purchased tickets he held in his fist. You've entered his home a dozen of times, but this would be the first time in three years that he was outside of your own residence. He thinks he's too dressed up for the occasion, cladded in a white button up and black dress pants. A voice asks him if he's his daughter's boyfriend, and Miguel whips around to face an elderly man with a questioned look on his face.

Single Father!Miguel who realizes that it's your father standing in front of him, spare key in hand. He's quick to say no (to your father's disappointment), and introduces himself as your superior. Your father invites Miguel inside your apartment, telling him that you were out fetching groceries and jokingly mentions he uses this opportunity to sneakily fill your cabinets and fridge of food. Your father complains you're too independent for your own good, but he can't exactly blame you—you grew up that way.

Single Father!Miguel who learns that once in your life you were just like his daughter and that in one point in your father's life, he was just like Miguel. All details shared from him, he learns that your mother passed away early in your life due to cancer and ultimately left you and your father to fend for yourselves. Your father tells Miguel that you often had helped out even when you didn't need to—and it doesn't take long for Miguel to piece the pieces together. Why you barely complain about the extra workload, why your father said you're too autonomous, and why all those years ago you not only sympathized with Miguel, but understood his situation as you came from the same exact upbringing.

Single Father!Miguel who listens intently when your father quietly tells him that all he wants for you is to find a good man that would be able to take care of you properly because he believes he wasn't able to. Miguel is quick to reassure him, however, that he did a fantastic job raising a selfless, humble woman that grew to be compassionate and considerate of others' needs, that you were the hardest worker he had ever seen and that he shouldn't discredit himself. Your father goes to examine Miguel for a moment before letting out a loud, haughty laugh in your apartment and jokingly (not really) tells Miguel he hopes that you'll marry him one day, or at least someone like him.

Single Father!Miguel whose resolve dissipates when you walk into your apartment to find your boss and your father talking amongst each other. He sits silently and awkwardly as you complain to your father about dropping by without any warning before you ask him what was he doing here in the first place. Your father takes his leave, winking at Miguel with a glint in his eye, leaving you two in your apartment alone.

Single Father!Miguel who finally gathers up the courage to ask you if you'd like to attend Gabriella's soccer game with him. You interject with visible hesitation, telling him that it was implied that it was a family-only event and you'd hate to intrude onto something so intimate, but he's quick to reassure you that his daughter would love to have you there considering all the help you had given her during her practices—if anything, she would need you there for your support.

Single Father!Miguel who tells you that Gabriella had shown visible distress last night when Miguel told her that you might not be able to come due to your non-familial relationship with them. He almost begged you to come with them, as Gabriella had even threatened to quit soccer altogether if you weren't there to witness her first game. When you give in after moments of contemplation, Miguel truly couldn't believe his luck.

Single Father!Miguel who roots alongside you for Gabriella and her team, watching oh so closely just in case someone from the other team did a dirty trick on his precious daughter. He'd sometimes occasionally glance at you, only to see you completely zoned in and focused on Gabriella's playing like the rest of the parents, offering your support through compliments and encouragements that his daughter always caught and would visibly improve from. When she finally scores the winning goal per usual, she's quick to ignore the cheers coming from her teammates and parents to run off the field and not look for Miguel first, but for you.

"Did you see me?!" Gabriella exclaims excitedly as she flings her arms around your waist. "Did you see what I did?!"

"I did, yes," you laugh, attempting not to stumble over from the impact with visible glee and crouch down to her height. Pride written all over your face, you grin. "And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"It's 'cause I did what you taught me," she declares. "I pointed first and then I shooted!" She uses hand gestures to reanimate her play on the field.

"Shot, Gabi," you correctly gently, your fingers going to automatically comb out the tangles out of her hair like you usually did after practices. "It does come handy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Her eyes go to see Miguel, who doesn't stalk too far behind with open arms and the same proud look painted on his face. "Dad! Didja see me?! Didja see that I scored?!"

Miguel lets out a once-in-a-blue-moon chuckle and lifts his daughter into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck in an affirming hug. "I saw very clearly, mi cariño, and I can't wait to brag about how my daughter scored the winning shot for her team," he compliments warmly.

Gabriella goes to point gleefully in your direction. "It was all because of Miss. (Y/N)," she declares, not knowing that her statement would make a rush of heat bloom onto your face.

"O-oh no... I only... w-well," you stammer out meekly, trying to find the right words. "I'm actually not too knowledgeable on soccer... I only repeated what I found online and—"

"Thank you," Miguel starts off fondly. "(Y/N), truly. Thank you."

You stare at him. "Mr. O'Hara..."

He sets Gabriella down for her to join her rejoicing teammate and pats the small of your back with a grateful look plastered on his face. You were so used to seeing the rather stoic and often tired side of Miguel O'Hara that you forgot he, too, was capable of smiling at times, so when you spotted the small of a grin on his lips that was for you specifically, you felt something in your chest jerk a little bit.

"If it weren't for you being here," he starts off quietly so only you can hear. "Gabi wouldn't have participated at all. She wanted you to come so she'd have enough courage to play because she was so used to you supporting her," Miguel glances at his daughter giggling about on the field. "So it was understandable that if her biggest supporter wasn't here to cheer her on, she wouldn't exactly do her best."

You blink slowly at him, digesting his words in order to truly savor them for all that they were. "I was just—"

"—doing your job?" Miguel finishes for you. He shakes his head. "Last time I remember, 'attending your boss's daughter's soccer games' wasn't on your job description," he says, earning a soft chuckle out of you despite his rather flat tone.

"I suppose so," you murmur with an evident warmth in your eyes, one that Miguel is sure Gabriella has seen numerous times and will continue to welcome as long as you're around.

So when after a dinner celebration at her favorite restaurant, after the star player is tucked into bed after a long day's work, Miguel takes it upon himself to do the what he thought was the impossible for him but possible for Gabriella.

"Stay safe out there," Miguel directs quietly as he helps you put on your coat again. "And again, thank you for today."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. O'Hara," you reply, "And I actually had fun today, so I can thank you for that."

He escorts you down the apartment complex to the lobby and begins to watch you leave, the words on his tongue tipping ever so slowly before they spill the moment you're about to exit through the doors.

"(Y/N)."

At the sound of your voice, you turn to him with a questioning look on your face. "... yes?"

Miguel opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a couple of seconds before blurting out, "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

He scans your face for a reaction before surprise paints itself on your moonlit features. "I-I suppose I am," you nod slowly. "May I ask why?"

"Gabi is having a sleepover at one of her teammate's house," Miguel coughs out and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide their fidgeting.

"Do you need me to drop her off...?" you ask, clearly puzzled.

"No, um," he clears his throat again. "I was... I was actually wondering if you'd... if you'd like to check out that new restaurant that opened up on Clark..."

Regret pools in his mouth the second it falls from his lips and he begins to internally conjure some sort of half-assed lie, perhaps saying something along the lines of the company wanted him to review it for a potential cater in the future or that a friend of his worked there, but when he sights your eyes softening with the same warmth from earlier, he lets you take the reigns on fate.

"I'd quite like that," you murmur, a modest smile on your lips.

a/n ; i told you i was going to give into temptation. wrote this on a plane with no wifi on the way here (thank god for offline editing!)

anyways, i'm trying to squeeze this bit out before my plane ride tmrw since i've been travelling for the past week and a half! i'll be returning home soon where i can finally write to my heart's content, phew! i just reallyyyyy wanted to write something for miguel adjdjfkfalwf but fear not! we shall be back to our regularly scheduled program soon!

as always, thank you for reading and likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed（╹◡╹）♡!

[websterss]

TILL DEATH DO US PART — ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

REQUEST: okay so i’ve thought about sending requests your way and my mind came up blank except for a reversed-roles kinda thing for lockwood & co, in which that scene from the last episode where lucy goes to george to save him from the crazy lady (forgot her name) with the bone mirror, instead it’s reader but she doesn’t handle it as well as lucy and pass out or something (your choice, i just want angst) and although lockwood has been shot in the shoulder, he doesn’t care. all he cares about is if reader is gonna be okay 👀 (i just want some good ol’ angst written by you so i can die a little bit inside but also thrive in reading your writing 🥺🫶🏼)

WARNING(S): angst, some fluff at the end

WORD COUNT: 4,214

PAIRING: Anthony Lockwood x fem!Reader    

A/N: Hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

You didn’t quite know how you three had managed to end up locked in an underground cellar with Pamela. You couldn’t so much as put the fault onto George. He had put his sole faith and trust into their supposed friendship. He was too swayed by what he thought were good intentions, only to realize they were nothing but sick twisted purposes. Purposes that were going to put so many others at risk. 

“Please!” George begged. “Lucy, don't he’ll kill you.”

“Don’t you dare look, and whatever happens this wasn’t your fault. This was my choice.”

“Lucy, don't you dare.” You groan after having been jostled and shoved to the ground as George had. 

Lucy just turned to you, her features softening as she whispered with pure sincerity and concern in her voice. Her soft-as-the-sky eyes glowed in the darkness like twin lanterns and with a little sigh she replied, “…I have to.”

"No. You don't. We all get to make choices, and I'm making mine now." You walk up to her and hit her with the hilt of your rapier.  You hold your breath as she falls unconscious. You're quick to drag her over to George where he remains on the ground. "S-Shield her eyes, and whatever happens...don't look." You nod firmly at George.

George didn’t hesitate, shielding Lucy from the horror unfolding before them, but couldn’t help looking back to you. He seemed both concerned and terrified at the same time. “Lockwood won't like this!"

"He'll get over it!" You take your place in front of the mirror. Eyes flickering back and forth between Pamela and the covered mirror.

The air around you feels thick and oppressive. You feel sick and dizzy as the sense of impending doom and horror fills your body with a paralyzing chill. You look at the mirror, at Pamela, and the thought of what is to come sears across your mind.

You take a deep breath. With shaking hands, you await her response. “Tell me everything you see, what you feel, and what you hear.” She yanks a pin out from her hair. Then points the recorder towards you. “Every detail.” She says as a final word, then yanks back the cloth. You turn around immediately, feeling a rush of air and suction claw on the back of your hair and shoulders. “Look, look, look. Damn you, look!” Pamela exclaims.

You gasp as you reach forward, grabbing the silver-glass jar, the skull, and hold it out behind you to look at the mirror in your place.

"If you can talk to it, tell me what it says.”

You groan, closing your eyes tightly, trying to fight off the urge to look into the horrid mirror. You growl as you yell back to the damned skull. "Talk...Take it all in and tell your master what you see." Lockwood and George, even Lucy had been astonished when you all discovered that you could also communicate and hear the type three ghost. Your heart plummets as you hear the skull begin to wail.

“No, no, no, this isn’t right! Something’s changed!” Your breath shudders upon the information he has given you. “They’re trapped!”

“What? What? What is he saying? Speak, girl Speak!” Pamela grips her recorder tighter.

“It says something is wrong!”

“More!”

“It’s a trap. We have to destroy it!” You begin to whimper as it all grows to be too much for you to handle. You hold your breath as glimpses of your past flash in your mind. Stills of your parents before your tenth birthday. Finding them ghost-locked after coming home from Fittes. Horrid wretched flashes and faces of previous visitors you and the boys were called on to take a job about. Being pinned by a type two. Your breath grows cold upon being nearly ghost-locked yourself. But the one vision that struck you the most, that made you lose your grip on making it through this was seeing yourself hold Anthony in your arms as his eyes were milky, his brown irises glazed over white and still. You could see yourself crying and begging him to come back to you. Your eyes shot upon with a startle. You could feel yourself loosen your hold on the jar before you took it down with you to the ground. All you could hear was a faint yell of your name before you slipped into the dark void that clouded your mind.

“Y/n!” George hadn’t even hesitated to get onto his feet to tackle down the stand holding the mirror. 

“No!” Pamela cries out. George ran back over to where you lay unconscious. His hands were still tied behind his back but he still attempted to check for your pulse. He visibly relaxed as he came to feel your pulse thump against his skin. 

“You’re alright, you’re alright now...Lockwood will come soon and it’ll all be over soon.” He flinched, looking over his shoulder as he heard shuffling to his right. Lucy groaned, clutching at her head as she pushed herself off the ground. 

“Blood hell...” She complained, but one look at your unmoving body had her scooting closer to the two of you. She reached forward, brushing a few strands out from your face. Her palm resting against your cheek. “Is she...” She raised a brow at George. Thinking the worst of the worst. Your death at the hands of Pamela.

“No. She’s alright. Assumed the mirror struck her energy a bit. It was too much for her to handle.” 

“Lockwood is gonna-”

“Kill us.”

“I was going to say put her on house arrest but sure let’s assume the worst reactions possible. 

“Before we arrived. He practically begged her to run off and call DEPRAC. She was top priority...” Lucy muttered to herself thinking back on what Lockwood debriefed before they came to face Pamela. 

“Top priority?” George questioned. “Y/n?”

“Before we left, he mentioned how the mirror came close to being our second priority. I asked him out of curiosity what the first priority was. He didn’t answer me.” Lucy looks down at you with a new sense of understanding. The bond you and Lockwood shared was one like no other. Two souls brought together by unfathomable circumstances. Orphaned from the same cause, the same path that lead your loved ones to be unalive. To halves that made a whole. Who understood what was put at risk every day you stepped out into London’s busy and haunted streets. You both knew the sacrifices that were the hardest to make, but you both took them on over Lucy and George having to. The little family you both found yourselves, you put your whole lives and trust into. You were everything to one another, and that was a risk in itself. “Lockwood is going to have our heads...” She breathed out in realization.

“I think he knows that already.”

“What?” George gestured behind her with a grimace. Lockwood was standing a few feet away, clutching his shoulder. His eyes rotated from Lucy and George and onto your unmoving form. 

“Shit...” Lucy swallowed nervously as he let his rapier clatter to the floor. 

“Is she?” Lockwood swallowed his words down, not having the stomach to contemplate whether you remained with them or if you had finally joined alongside your parents and his. Lockwood took a few more agonizing steps towards your motionless form, his expression looking both exhausted and afraid. His fingers reach out but fall back down to his sides. He was only thankful you couldn’t see him tremble, as he held back on the urge to break down crying.  

“She’s okay...swear it.” Lucy nodded, a timid smile on her face as her eyes watered. 

Lockwood's eyes began to water from the sight. For an agent, death would be nothing more than a common occurrence. However, this was a different scenario, as a few tears streamed down his face. Before he could take another step forward, George finally free from his zip ties, carefully lifted you in a gentle motion, trying to prop you upwards. Lockwood hurried forward then, hands trembling as he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into a seating position. Your head lulling sideways at an uncomfortable angle. Lockwood's eyes darted all across your form, desperately hoping to find some kind of response from you.

"She took on the mirror...It was too much for her to handle. She fainted from it." George filled him in on what occurred.

Lockwood's breaths grew out of rhythm as he kept your body in place, trying to keep his hands from shaking. His fingers trembled at a furious pace as he placed his hand against your neck, needing to feel for himself for a pulse. To reassure him that you weren’t taken from him. It was a moment that felt like hours had passed. He spoke. “Did she look at it?” They could hear the panic in his voice.

"N-No. She used the skull." Anthony glanced over to where the type three ghost swirled around, displaying its very much livelihood. He wished the same for your state.

Lockwood's sigh of relief was palpable in the atmosphere. He withdrew his head from your shoulder and pressed his head gently against yours, his eyes closing shut. The only thing keeping him from losing it was the slight thump against his fingertips on your neck, it had his entire demeanor relaxing. Though it didn't calm his nerves. "She'll be alright," he promised George, who seemed to be on the verge of panic himself. "She'll be quite alright." He muttered softly as though the tiniest change in his tone would cause him to fall apart. 

Lucy was at a crossroads, her instincts screaming at her how badly she wanted to rush into Lockwood's arms to comfort him at this moment, but she had her priorities straight. You had taken her place. This wasn’t out of the ordinary for you and it angered Lockwood because you never stopped putting yourself before others.

"She knocked me out and took my place. I wouldn't have let her if I knew-" Anthony retracted from you and looked over to Lucy, having her own breakdown.

Knowing of your bond, she knew what losing you would do to him. The last thing she wanted was to add any more stress to his plate and his already heavy heart. “I know. It’s alright Luce...” Lockwood gave her a firm nod. He then turned back to you. Lockwood was staring at what you referred to as your imperfections, a freckle here, a scar against your temple there, and the crease in your brows, to him they were what made you simply perfect in his eyes. He couldn’t help the frown on his lips, the frown on your own lips not sitting well with him. Had you fainted in pain? Were you still in pain? It didn’t shake him as badly as your closed eyes did. He wanted nothing more than to peer into them again. Find a home in them once more. He willed and hoped them to finally open so that he could see that you were alright. 

He lied, your pulse hadn’t been enough, he needed to see you awaken for him to even function correctly. He needed his mind to think about anything else, something else so he asked.

“What marvelous object did she acquire this time...” He scoffed. “My first encounter with her was with the end of an umbrella.”

"The butt of her rapier," Lucy said. "Shit hurt..." She rubbed against the side of her temple.

“A rapier?” He breathed a small laugh. “I see you weren’t quite original this time...” A small smile appeared in Lockwood's eyes as he leaned forward again. His hand lowered to wrap around your fingers, all the while as he carefully placed your head upon his shoulder. His other hand brushed against your cheek, making note of your temperature. “Her hands are getting cold.”

"Is that bad?"

“Y/n. Can you hear me?” He lifted your head from his shoulder. “Her circulation is slowing. Our time frame for waking her up is shrinking.” It's always an internal struggle for him to remain composed, but he had to be strong for the lot of them.

"Where did Pamela go?" George began panicking. He grew weary seeing her hunched over the broken mirror.      

“Leave her, George!" Lockwood let out his frustration at the situation. “She’s not our priority right now.”

“You stupid boy. You broke it!” Pamela whined.

Lockwood turned to look back at Pamela, who was whining about the broken mirror as Lucy’s attempts to bring you back to consciousness were becoming more futile. Lockwood’s patience was wearing thin, and Pamela’s words were doing nothing but adding fuel to the flames.

“We need to go! Now!” Lockwood urged the two of them. As he was already attempting to pick you up, especially with his bad shoulder still bleeding out. The exhaustion hadn’t yet reached him, his adrenaline running rampant. 

Lockwood's words were cut short as he stumbled, dropping you to the ground. His bad shoulder had given way to the exhaustion that now began to consume him. He was losing his grip on everything. “Lucy...” he was pleading now. 

“We’ve got her, let’s go!” Lucy assured his panic, and swung your arm over her shoulder, George taking your other arm.

“Don’t drop her…” Lockwood barked out, as he struggled to maintain a standing position. The exhaustion finally started to take hold of him as his knees buckled beneath him. With his body starting to tremble and lose its grasp, he let out a deep groan, his breath shallowing from the physical exertion.

"Go!" Lucy ordered out of frustration. She admired his concern and care about you but not when their lives were currently on the line and a crazy bitch was staring into the mirror she tried forcing them to look into.

He didn’t want to allow any room for arguing.

-

Anthony had fallen unconscious as the lift back up. His body lay next to yours as George, Lucy, and Kipps adjusted the both of you. The last thing Anthony recalls was lightly pressing his hand on top of yours before he succumbed to the exhaustion that ransacked his body. He felt as though a train drove right into him, though at least now he could say he’s faced down the barrel of a gun and lived to tell the tale. You’d find it humorous. You always thought highly of his jokes and gave him a laugh when most never bothered. He’d give anything to hear you bubble out of joy. See you double over from the loss of air in your chest. He’d give anything...everything.

After the paramedics patched him up and reduced him to an arm sling, he hung back as you lay on the gurney behind him. He twisted in his seat, keeping a watchful eye on you, waiting, willing the universe to spare him and have your fingers twitch, or have you shift around. He needed some peace of mind.

Though the universe was not kind, your body remained lifeless in a state of deep slumber. Lockwood’s heartbeat grew heavier the longer he waited on the back of the ambulance, his mind flooded with the worst-case scenarios. That this would be the last time, that that smile of yours that could charm anyone with ease would be lost. If he was to lose you, then he had nothing left. Nothing and no one. His hand continued to shake as he felt himself become more and more of a wreck. He couldn’t breathe...he wouldn't be able to breathe...and he knew he’d whole himself in his room if you didn’t-

“Will the Mrs live to see another day?”

Anthony looked over at Inspector Barnes. He gestured to your stilified state. He had hoped his joke would upturn the tension but if presumed he hadn’t after Lockwood scoffed and rolled his eyes, adverting his gaze away and back where they longed to remain, solely on you.

“What’d the paramedics say?” He asked again.

“She’s alright...Nothing we couldn’t figure out ourselves. The pressure from the mirror exhausted her to the point of fainting. She’s stable...she’s surpassed every checkup they ministered with flying colors...”

“Yet...” Barnes trailed off.

“They don’t have the slightest clue as to why she won’t wake up. They already tried to but...” Lockwood didn’t want to say it out loud, but speaking it into existence confirmed his worst fears, that even though your vitals were good, and your body reacted well to the fluids they gave you, something was seriously wrong, if not physically, then mentally and that scared him more than anything else. “I have this inclining...”

"Lockwood-" Barnes began.

“I know what you’re going to say. Have hope. Remain optimistic as we’ll continue to observe her, monitor her vitals, hell test her blood. But what good will that do when we’ve done it already…” He paused, the exhaustion growing with every passing moment. “What if she never wakes up?” Lockwood’s breath shudders.

“You both know of the risks–“ Barnes tries to reason.

“We’ve been in the business of risk exposure for years. We don’t expect ourselves to survive from the first encounter. But this–this feeling...” Lockwood’s voice was breaking. He couldn’t keep himself contained any longer. “I’m aware!” Lockwood snaps, his voice breaking, his eyes reddening. “All too aware, but if I’d known this would happen I’d…” His thoughts trail off, unsure of what to say anymore. His eyes kept darting back and forth between you and Barnes. He’d succumb to begging. He would. Just to see you move a little. Any kind of movement. Just one would be enough to quell his panic. 

“Taken her place?” A small knowing smile reached Barnes's brows.

Lockwood couldn’t bring himself to deny it. He took a deep breath, as he spoke in a hushed and gentle tone “I would hand myself over to death without question. Any given day.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’d rather she lose me, than I her. So yes, I’d have taken her place.” Barnes's eyes slowly flickered past his shoulder with an easing smile. He looked down to the rubble. 

“Over my dead body-” Anthony had never turned his head faster. He instantly froze. The relief that had started to wash over him at seeing you had given way to embarrassment. His own injury was forgotten. You sat up and your eyes landed on him. “Hand yourself over to death, or you mad- What the hell happened to your shoulder?” 

“That would be my leave...” Barnes pointed to his left and swiftly left the two of you.

“My shoulder? Oh, it…I was shot.” He answered as simple as that, it contained no other details, nothing to ease your concern, which led you right into interrogating him.

“Shot?” You were taken aback by his nonchalant reply. “What do you mean, shot?” You exclaim. 

“Nothing worth troubling yourself about. How do you feel?” There was an air of tension between the two of you, where everything had become so fragile. After everything that had happened, a simple statement or action would break the illusion. You were awake and animated, and giving him a piece of your mind. It didn’t feel real in the slightest.

“I…” A wave of exhaustion was still coursing through your body, a result of the exhausting ordeal that you had just undergone. The ordeal had exhausted your body so much that your brain shut down. But your physical exhaustion also masked the emotional exhaustion you were feeling. You felt out of your element; overwhelmed by everything that was now around you. Everything felt unfamiliar to you, as though you had been transported into an unknown dimension, one where your mind felt trapped. Anthony’s ghost locked body in your arms. “I don’t know...I couldn’t wake up.”

"I know- The paramedics tried everything and-"

It was impossible to say what you did and didn't remember. But from what you recall, the events of the evening were a blur. "The mirror..." You attempted to scoot closer to him. Your hands grazed against Anthony's hair. Your eyes caught sight of his shoulder, wrapped in bandages and the sling that secured it together. Was it bleeding? But it wasn’t your primary focus. You just needed to feel him. “There were so many faces, so many faces.” You breathe out a gasp. Your eyes watering. “I saw you...”

“Me?”

"You were ghost-locked. I had lost you..." Your breath hitched.

"It wasn't real. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. It wasn't real." Anthony reassured, pressing kisses against your temple.

"But what if it was...What if what the mirror showed me becomes true?"

He paused, taking a moment to contemplate your concerns. Anthony had already spent the evening playing out the worst-case scenarios, but to hear you state them verbally had somehow made them more palpable. However, a small part of him was curious whether you saw your future by the mirrors doing, or if it was just an illusion to break you mentally.

"Then I'll make sure that doesn't happen." He whispered. His voice was tinged with emotion. His hands reached for yours and intertwined his fingers with yours. A sign of his promise to you.

“You can’t promise that-”

Anthony looked down at your hands, his eyes flickering between them as he attempted to focus on anything other than the overwhelming amount of emotions swirling within him, the emotions threatening to consume him whole. So he focused instead on your hands being intertwined with his, and the sight warmed him in a pleasant way he hadn't felt in many months, as the thought of possibly losing you had him filled with dread.

He leaned over and kissed your knuckles. “Did you not hear my declaration of my love for you?”

“Oh, the one where you give yourself to death- Like hell!” You yank your hand out of his with a scoff.

“Hand myself over–” He corrected you. “I’d hand myself over to death.” He continued.

“I’m about to hand you a right hook.” You throw a playful punch to his bad shoulder, forgetting his injury and rippling with regret instantly. “Oh!”

“Ow.” He groaned. “What’s the big issue?” He laughed softly. “What’s wrong with giving up my life for yours?” He teased. “You know I’d die for you.”

"You don't have my permission." You mutter softly. Bringing a hand up to brush back his hair.

As your hand brushed back his hair, Anthony couldn’t help but smile at the small gesture. He grabbed the hand you used to brush back his hair and lightly kissed the back of your hand again. “If I wanted to I would give myself over to death this very instant. I’d do just about anything for you, you know.” He replied. His gaze was now fully on you. His eyes were a deep amber, shining like two gemstones.

"And that's what scares me the most." You hum.

“It shouldn’t.” He scoffed with a smile. “Besides, I thought you valued my loyalty.” He raised a brow playfully.

"Yes. When I'm not there to defend my word. That’s when I put my whole faith in your loyalty to me...but when death comes knocking. I don't want it." Your eyes soften.

He looked away briefly, then back at you with a teasing smile. “I wouldn’t give my life to save just anyone, you know.”

"Oh, I'm aware." You fight back an amused smile. He noticed it though, he caught the smile that you attempted to mask. You were never able to conceal much around him, and that was all right. He liked seeing your emotions on full display. You were your truest self when you let your guard down around him. It made you all the more adorable that way. “And you?” He asked. “Would you give yourself to death for me?” He teased, but you knew he was serious.

Your smile widened for a moment before you caught yourself, and answered without taking a beat. You would allow him to know your fears, for the fear of seeing him suffer on your behalf was the worst feeling one could endure. That was something you hated the thought of. You didn’t quite see yourself as the more vulnerable one out of the two of you. Deep down Anthony conquered his inner demons through you, shared his past, his troubles, and confessed his deepest fears to you. You’d help him without any hesitation. You would do anything for the bloke, even if that meant going as far as sacrificing your own life for the sake of him getting to keep his, you would do it, and you’d do it in a heartbeat no less.

“Any given day.” One glance into your eyes and Anthony knew. He knew you would keep that promise till death tethered on whose hand to take. When? Well, you’d never truly know for sure.

Content with your answer, he leans in and kisses your cheek softly. You relax into his touch, your lashes brushing down on top of your under-eyes. He pulls away with a stupid grin. His eyes filled with want and mischief, your favorite combination.

[aemondsquill]

ok well now we all need an alternative “keep going” ending where they do make it. you know, for our mental health and stability.

Keep Going (alt ending)

Aemond Targaryen × Pregnant!Reader

Hey I'm happy to oblige! This ending will contain some good ol' tooth-rotting fluff because this family deserves some PEACE!

This is going to start right when they reach the mouth of the cave before Daemon appears.

Warnings: Mentions of war, fighting, violence yadda yadda yadda, we stan Rhaenyra in this household

"Escaping into the night with your treasonous husband, daughter?"

Y/N's blood freezes as Daemon slinks out of the shadows along with ten bloody thirsty Queensguard.

"Father, please. Rhaenyra promised us safe passage. We want no part in this war." Y/N put her hands up in surrender gently, as if approaching a wild animal. Daemon chuckled, but the humor did not reach his cold eyes.

"Whose idea do you think it was to send you that raven, my dear?" Daemon sneered. Betrayal, grave and cold, threaded through Y/N's entire being. A tender heart so easily swayed by pretty promises on a page. And she fell for it so easily. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. Aemond gripped the hilt of his sword beneath his cloak, ready for a blood bath. 'Run. Run, you insolent little girl.' He begged internally.

Before he could unsheath his sword a defeaning roar rattled the granite around them. All eyes turned skyward at the site of Rhaenyra, beautiful and fearsome atop Syrax.

Syrax lands gracefully upon the beach.

"Let them pass, husband."

Daemon looks startled at his Queen's sudden appearance.

"My daughter is attempting to smuggle out the Kinslayer! She must pay for her treason!"

Syrax stalks closer and Daemon, flanked by the Queensguard, only steps back further. He was a fearsome knight, but without a dragon he was still merely a man. This was a fight he would not win.

Rhaenyra glares down at him. "I will deal with the Kinslayer after I take back the throne. Right now your daughter needs him as she is carrying his child. Let them pass or you will meet the same fate Aegon will." Y/N and Aemond could only watch in pure astonishment, surely this was all a cruel dream? Aemond silently thanked the gods numerous times, promising to spend the rest of his waking moments honoring them.

Daemon begrudgingly demanded the Queensguard to stand down. Y/N grasped her husband's warm, yet trembling hand in her own and lead him to the rowboat that awaited them. Her heart threatened to beat out of her chest and bile nearly rose in her throat. So close to death she had been.

Aemond could not help but let a small smirk linger on his face as he passed Daemon. The older man could only tightly grip his dagger and snarl as a way to restrain himself.

Aemond helps Y/N into the little rowboat and hops in after her. He takes a moment to fully embrace her. He wants to remember her warmth and the softness of her skin. When he pulls back he just gazes at her lovingly, hoping to commit every little feature and flaw to memory. The slope of her nose, the bow of her lips, and her bright violet eyes that glow in the moonlight.

Aemond's chest fills with warmth at the site of her, such a perfect little wife she is.

Finally, he reaches down and caresses her belly. He can feel the delicate movements of his child within and joy floods his veins. How could he be so lucky? The thought of losing either of them overwhelms him and causes his chest to clench painfully.

The whiplash of emotions took a toll on Aemond. Just moments ago he was fully prepared to give his life to save his bride and now he is rejoicing and thanking Rhaenyra, his half-sister who he had learned to hate. This vile woman who intended to steal his brother's throne, whose bastard children were seen as equal to him, bestowed the greatest mercy upon him and he couldn't help but stare at her in admiration.

Rhaenyra watches them, heart warming at the sight of her stepdaughter receiving all the love she deserves. She could not bear the thought of taking away that child's father, knowing what she went through after Harwin's death. Rhaenyra's eyes felt misty at the memory of him.

Rhaenyra kept a protective eye on them as they rowed further and further away, until they were just a dot in the distance.

"You would so willingly kill your own daughter, husband? That makes you no better than the Kinslayer." Daemon looked down in shame, but he knew she was right. He was acting out of anger and he knew he would've come to regret murdering his eldest daughter.

---

The couple reached the island where Vhagar waited. Neither could believe they even made it to the boat.

Y/N was overcome with emotion.

"I thought we were done for! Almost murdered by my own father!" She wept. Aemond just held her tightly in his arms and gently pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I would not have let it come to that. I would give my life for you and our child." His thumb brushed away the tears that rolled down her cheeks as he smiled down at her.

Aemond knelt down in the sand and placed his forehead against her belly. "Hello, little one" he cooed, "I want you to know I will always protect you. You will never feel fear as long as I am around. I will spend the rest of my days loving and cherishing you." He pressed a firm kiss against Y/N's swollen stomach, sealing his promise.

[freyito]

ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ & ᴋᴇɴꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴀʜᴀꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ꜱɪᴄᴋ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

guess whos getting sick.... yippee!! i like never get sick and when i do im like completely OUT. rn it's just a sore throat and a kind of cough but it's been getting worse all day so i figured i'd get this out and donesies with before i cant even leave my bed lol

cw: gn reader, just fluff, JEWISH JOHNNY (hes jewish and you arent gonna tell me otherwise), not proofread

⎯ Johnny Cage

Johnny does not care that you could possibly get him sick, he is all over you. Like not once does he leave your side. And if he has to? Then he's just picking you up and taking you with him. Even if you complain that you wanna stay in bed.

He's got a weeks worth of takeout planned. All your favorite comfort food, something cold for your throat, something warm, too. And he's always got a nice, cold bottle of water for you. He's very intent on you staying hydrated.

We all know he can't cook. But this man has ONE (1) thing he actually can make without messing up. Two words. Jewish. Penicillin. Good ol' Matzoh Ball Soup. Guaranteed to cure you (don't take his word). And it's damn good. It's the perfect temperature, and it runs down your throat so smoothly that it- for once- doesn't feel like sandpaper. It's bliss. Pure damn bliss.

Of COURSE you're gonna end up cuddled up on the couch or in bed, watching some sort of movie or show. It's Johnny Cage. But, he also just likes talking with you. Or, to you. He doesn't want you to lose your voice, now. He'll ramble on and on about cinema, history- literally any, but of course he's a bit partial to Sento and the Taira clan specifically.-, and physics, science, yada yada.

And he talks and talks for days on end. Until you get better. But who am I kidding, he talks then, too. And when you finally get better, it's actually a miracle that Johnny isn't sick. But he's even more clingy, after.

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

Unlike Johnny, Kenshi knows to give you space. Doesn't mean he isn't right by you the entire time, though. He's constantly checking your temperature, checking in on you in general. Do you need anything? How about a warm bath? Something to eat? Water? It's a constant stream of questions. He's just so worried about you, even if it is just a common cold.

He does order takeout as well, but it usually just amounts to soups and what not, he's kind of hellbent on making sure you eat the right foods and not something that could even make the cold slightly worse. He'll let popsicles slide, though... just no icecream. Hell no.

About that bath... Kenshi puts his heart and soul into it, for whatever reason. Epsom salt, some vitamin C bath foam, maybe some petals just to make it a little fancy. Oh, he's got it all. He wants to make sure you're at the height of relaxation.

Music and Audiobooks. He's got then playing, unless you ask for silence. Of course, he plays them kinda softly. He's a bit afraid of you getting a headache. It offers some sort of mental stimulation, though, while your huddled up in bed. He wants to make sure you don't feel bored while you're sick.

And once you're better... he's got so much laundry done. Like the very moment you're all energized and feeling better, he's like "oh the dryers done!". Kenshi wants to make sure there's no risk of you getting sick again, and to be honest, he pampers you a little extra, too.

© freyito, 2023 | masterlist | queue | kofi DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[draxumain]

A Gentle Exchange

Their favourite place to kiss you and being kissed by you <3

Characters: Sanemi | Gyomei | Obanai | Muichiro

Genre: Fluff and a small pinch of angst

Tw: None

Reader: Black F!Reader

Her Lady's Notes: Some are short, some are not. I'm not even gonna lie; it's because of favouritism and energy I'm tired asf. Plus, this was supposed to be the whole hashira, but I'm eepy, so suck on that ig.

1.2k Words 

Sanemi Shinazugawa

His favourite place to get kissed: Scars and Cheeks

His favourite place to kiss you: Lips and Nose Bridge.

He likes it when you kiss his scars; it takes his mind off of how he got those scars and instead reminds him that you kissed them. If you compliment his looks and express genuine concern for his body and mental well-being whilst doing so, it's over for this man, you've got him locked tight around your finger. When you do, the thought makes him less abrasive to himself during battle, keeping you in mind and not wanting you to be upset or concerned for him any more than you already are. It breaks his heart a little to see you worry over something so unimportant to him. His wellbeing. 

He likes it when you cup his face in your hands and gently caress his face, rubbing your thumbs on his cheeks, going slightly below his eyes. When you kiss his face, he can't help but close his eyes and lean into your warm embrace. He thinks he's never experienced such happiness when you do that.

He is also a sucker for a simple kiss on the cheek or corner of his lips. A quick kiss leaves the warmth of your lips lingering on his face for a minute, and he loves it so much. He loves it when you put your hand on the other side of his face when you go in to kiss him.

He enjoys kissing your nose bridge. Just in between your eyes, to be exact. He loves to cup your face with his hands, some of his fingers going behind your ear with the others on your face and giving your cheeks a light squeeze as he goes in for one. He loves it when you smile when he cups your cheeks. It's free therapy, really.

With this, he also loves the good ol' simple kiss on the lips. Bonus points if you're wearing a really nice coloured lipgloss; he wants it smudged over him and all over you. You truly are a sight when your lipgloss is smudged a little on the side of your mouth, and he looks so pretty with his lips wet and glossy.

Himejima Gyomei

His favourite place to be kissed: Cheek

His favourite place to kiss you: Hand

Gyomei is tall. It's physically impossible to kiss him anywhere but his feet and his lower legs. and he's very aware of this. So when you become a little clingy and pull at his pants, he bends down somewhat to your level, and you give him a small peck on the cheek while on your tip toes.

He thinks it's really cute when you get on your toes, even when he reaches down to go to your level. A simple kiss on the cheek for him is pure, simple, and equally intimate as a kiss on the lips.

He loves to kiss the back of your hand like a gentleman; feeling your small hand in his large ones and feeling your soft skin on his lips is such bliss. He wants to be as respectful as possible to you while also showing you his deep love for you. Your hand is one of his favourite body parts; therefore, a respectful but romantic and gentle kiss on the hand is perfect.

Iguro Obanai

His favourite place to be kissed: Lips

His favourite place to kiss you: Shoulder, back of your neck

Obanai doesn't take off his bandages ever; even after you guys start dating, he's never once entertained the idea of taking them off in front of you. But he would love to get kissed by you; he can't help but let his eyes wonder and stare at your lips for what seems like hours. He mourns the feeling of your sweet lips on his, as if he ever once had them.

So when you go ahead and kiss him on the lips through his bandages...

Oh dear, oh lord, oh my.

He's done. That's it; you're never getting rid of him; he's attached to you by the hip.

He can feel your warmth through his off-white bandages; it sends him into a spiral. He's never been more thankful to be wearing them; otherwise, you'd see the red tint spread across his lower face.He adores lip kisses; it makes the most of his dull day.

Obanai Iguro comes from a bloodline of filth. His blood is impure, and his hands are dirty, stained deep red by the blood of his so-called family.

He's the embodiment of filth, the definition of dirt and toxic waste.

You're the exact opposite of Obanai. You're beautiful, gorgeous, bright, and deserving of the richest of land and materials.

So for that reason, he can never touch you and infect you with his impurities and diseases. A goddess such as yourself should never be snooped down to his level. It's a blasphemous sin.

But if he were to ever kiss you, his favourite place to kiss you is the back of your shoulder and neck. This way, you can't see him when he does it. He wants to express his love for you in an equal manner, if not times 100. He feels terrible at the thought of you wasting your precious time and energy on a man who can't even give back the same amount of love you give him. He so desperately wants to show you just how much you truly mean to him. He wants to show you how much he worships you like the goddess you are.

He's desperate to but.

He just can't.

Tokito Muichiro

His favourite place to be kissed: Cheek

His favourite place to kiss you: Lips

Muichiro is simple and quite down to earth in terms of style and personality, at least; truthfully, up in the clouds is a better way to describe him since his head is always up there. Not a thought is ever behind those eyes of his.

So a simple kiss on the cheek is always enough to bring him back down to earth and bring his attention back to the real world. Though that only happens because it shocks him when you do. He forgets you two are dating one another time to time, or sometimes who you even are. So whenever you kiss him and his eyes land on the culprit, he sees you. His eyes start to light up for a bit—just a small flicker. Your beauty to him is like no other. The way your hair floats and defies gravity and how your smooth, dark skin shines truly mesmerises him.

So when I say his attention is back on the real world when you kiss him, I lied; it isn't. It's on you.

It's not so much that his favourite place to kiss you is on the lips; he doesn't really remember the times he has kissed you elsewhere to declare his official favourite part.

It's just that sometimes, when you're pretty much doing anything and he zones out there are times where his mind isn't always airy and empty with cobwebs sometimes you cross it. So, he goes up from whatever he's doing and just randomly plops a sweet and quick kiss on your lips. Doesn't matter where you are just *mwah* 

Smooches you <3

──  ﹫ 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘𝐒𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐌   ؛   𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗎𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗋

[dreadsuitsamus]

Being Jiraiya's Wifey Headcanons | Jiraiya x Reader |

author's note: i just have so much love to give him!!!

pairing: jiraiya x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, light nsfw mentions

Jiraiya not only has tons of love to give, he is also in need of receiving every ounce of love you can muster

He always wants to touch you in some way, be it cuddling or holding hands or having his arm around you

To see his biggest, brightest smile, just give him a big ole smooch on the cheek

When Jiraiya comes back home from being on a mission, he scoops you up in a twirl and presses the warmest kiss on your lips

He's always got a present for you, of course

Jiraiya will spoil you as much as you let him

Seriously, if you don't tell him to stop he will not

He loves buying you pretty things and watching as you model your various jewelry and clothes

he also loves bending you over and seeing if those clothes can survive a good fucking

Jiraiya loves to hear how much you've missed him while he was away, so be sure to exaggerate just how bored you were

"It was awful, baby. Just me, myself and I in this big house! I'm so glad you're home, I was about to lose my mind without you."

Nobody ever went to hell over little white lies, after all

His travel stories are genuinely entertaining, and he makes sure to tell all your favorites whenever there's a gathering

He loves your laugh, and while he's naturally funny due to his goofball nature, he prefers tickling you to hear it

Something about having you begging beneath him, panting and breathless from his touch just really gets him going!

He's big on snuggling, and will make sure you are in his arms all night long

Even if you manage to wiggle out during the night, the old man gets up frequently enough to pee that you'll be right back where you belong eventually

He looks his best in the warm light of a sunset, and he catches you staring at him often. He doesn't admit to it, but it flatters him greatly that you genuinely find him so attractive

Jiraiya writes you love letters when he's away on extended missions

though some of them are just straight up lust on a piece of paper

He is a big man and he is not afraid to use that to his advantage

Unless there's a spider; you're on your own at that point

But otherwise he will do things such as purposely put your favorite mug on the tallest shelf possible, and blackmail you into sexual favors before retrieving it for you

You bitch at him all the time for it, yet never get the step stool and get it yourself

It's okay to let him have his way sometimes

You say jump and Jiraiya will ask how high. His devotion to you is just that pure and strong

Ever since getting married, his Will of Fire has been replaced by the Will of Wife

Jiraiya is a wonderful husband, and some days it really hits you just how lucky you got with this man

He's not perfect, but he's perfectly yours and it fills you with so much love for your husband that it practically overflows your heart and next thing Jiraiya knows, he's getting kissed like your life depends on it

He doesn't know what he's done to deserve any of this, but as long as you keep kissing him like that and being his, he promises to keep doing anything in his power to continue being your man

Being married to Jiraiya isn't free of headaches, but it's rewarding all the same just to see that goofy, sleepy smile of his every time you wake up

Being your husband is the greatest honor Jiraiya has ever had, and the happiness you give him gives him hope that his future may just be bright after all

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Seduce Me - Joel Miller X GN Reader

Title: Seduce Me

Joel Miller X GN Reader

Additional Character: Tommy (Mentioned), Ellie (Mentioned), and other Survivors (Mentioned very briefly)

Requested by Anon!

WC: 1,628

Warnings: TLOF canon violence mentioned, some good ol' flirting, teasing, fighting (verbally) mentioned, one sleeping bag trope mentioned, confession, first kiss as a couple, slight angst, and fluff

Finding Joel's brother was pure luck. And Tommy living in a somewhat safe location in Wyoming with other survivors? A godsend. You were beyond thankful for how caring and kind Tommy was. Him letting you, Joel, and Ellie stay for a while. You finally got enough food to fill your stomach and even a pair of new clean clothes. You sort of wandered off from Joel and Ellie, just wandering the place, meeting some new people before you found your way back to Joel, without Ellie and without his brother. He sat in an old chair, strumming softly on a guitar. You paused briefly at the door, a small smile on your face as you listened. You didn't know that Joel could play, and it made you wonder. What could he play? Could he sing too?

Walking over, Joel looked up, pausing his pleasant strumming as you pushed yourself up onto a table a ways in front of him, leaning forward, and placing your elbows on your knees. "I didn't know you could play?" You said, looking down at him.

He shrugged, smiling slightly. "I learned." He glanced around the room. "This ain't my first rodeo, sweetheart," He explained before he began to play again.

You sighed, resting both the palms of your hands on your cheeks, fully engulfed in the feeling of listening to Joel sing, his voice low and smooth. The sound, like honey, wrapped itself around you, soothing your nerves. It soothed the aches from traveling for months, the soreness from fighting against monsters, and from fighting alongside Joel. Your heart thudded in your chest at the memory, and for once, you felt content. At the end of his song, you let out a breathy sigh. "Are you trying to seduce me?" You asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

His cheeks turned pink, lips pressed together, not quite a frown but definitely a displeased expression. "Is it workin'?" He countered, giving you a look, his eyes shining with something that you couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't a scowl. Was he teasing you now? 

You had known Joel ever since he let you join him and Ellie. You quickly bonded with the young girl, but it took a bit longer for you and Joel to finally see eye-to-eye on some things. You didn't know what to really call your... Relationship. Sometimes you fought on a certain topic or decision or had to share a sleeping bag, or not-so-subtly flirted with one another. Other times, you would get along great, like right now. But there was still that tension in the air, you just hadn’t figured out where to step into yet. You knew there was something there, but neither of you seemed to be willing to put a name to it.

"Well, I mean it does seem to work. Or maybe I'm just very easily swayed by your heavenly voice." You teased with a grin before it slowly turned into a small adoring smile, "I've never heard you sing before." You said quietly.

The blush deepened in color, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he thought. His eyes drifted toward the ground. He didn’t say anything, merely playing the strings lightly. The silence stretched. You waited patiently until he eventually spoke again. “I can’t remember the last time I did." He muttered, "It feels... Good." He admitted in the end, still not looking you in the eye. 

Your heart melted and you smiled softly. "Well, you sound wonderful," You said quietly. He glanced at you then, surprise evident on his face, and you grinned wider, "You definitely have a talent, Joel." You sighed, "I wish I knew how to play an instrument, all I can do is whistle with a blade of grass." You tried to joke, making Joel smile slightly as he stood up, walking towards you. 

"Would you like to learn how?" He asked, offering the guitar to you, as you stared at the instrument and up at him.

"I was serious, Joel. I have no idea what I am doing." You tried to gracefully bow out, only for Joel to shake his head with a small grin before hopping onto the table beside you with a small grunt, making you chuckle lightly, your hand unconsciously landing on his back as he settled. Looks like you had no choice. "Careful, old man. Don't want you to have a heart attack before you teach me an actual talent." You teased as Joel let out a huff, playfully glaring at you as he passed you the guitar.

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say nothin', now place your hand here, and your other hand here." Joel began, placing your fingers on the neck and the base of the guitar, the strings moving slightly from the movement. "Now, adjust your fingers on the strings," He continued, his own hands covering yours, almost puppeteering you as he guided your fingers, "And press gently, alright? Just a simple pressure, see?" Joel asked.

You nodded as you relaxed your fingers on the strings, following his instructions. You watched his hands move in tandem with yours as they guided your hands, his long fingers touching yours more gently as your own fingers moved against the strings. The sound that came from the instrument was... Not great, but it wasn't terrible. Joel continued to help you, occasionally explaining something to you but it was hard for you to even concentrate. All you could think about was how warm you felt, and the feeling of Joel's side pressed into your back. When his hands brushed yours, goosebumps prickled across your skin. You tried not to focus on it, instead focusing on the words Joel was saying. He sounded... So nice, gentle, and calm. You were so entranced by him and his soothing voice that you weren't aware of where you were or what you were doing. Until you felt Joel's hands pull away, leaving you cold in their absence. As soon as he let go of your hands, you were hit with a realization.

You really liked Joel.

No... You loved him.

"Alright," Joel began, gesturing to you, "Try it."

You glanced over at him confused, "Huh?"

 Joel gave you a look, raising an eyebrow, "You weren't paying attention, were you?" He asked. You shook your head, biting your lip lightly. "You alright there, darlin'?"

You stayed quiet, biting your lip softly as you fidgeted with the strings, plucking them gently. "I- I'm just a bit confused, I guess." Joel furrowed his eyebrows but stayed silent as you continued, "I've been trying to rationalize with myself for months, but nothing really came out of that. It's like all logic just went out of the window when it came to you." You confessed, before looking up at Joel beside you, "What are we, Joel? I feel comfortable with you and... There's something there. Something good. I want to explore that good thing." Joel remained silent as you spoke, his hands clasped firmly in his lap as he stared at you. You looked back down at the guitar, "I mean, we tease and flirt with one another, share sleeping bags even though sometimes we don't have to, and... I love it. Losing myself in you, being vulnerable with you." You admitted, a slight flush creeping across your cheeks. "It makes me feel happy. Like... Like I belong somewhere. I've never felt like this before. And I don't want to lose it." You looked back up at Joel. You were beginning to worry about how quiet he was being. "Can you say something, please, Joel?"

Joel was watching you closely, his brows furrowing, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. "Do you mean it?" He breathed.

You nodded. "Of course, I do." You breathed out.

Joel exhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. He opened his eyes and looked at you again, his gaze softening as he reached forward and took hold of your chin, pulling it up slightly and tilting your face up to meet his gaze; aking your breath hitch. He leaned in close, brushing his nose against yours, his breathing heavy. "Y'know..." He started, "I'm glad to hear it." He breathed, leaning closer and closer to your face until his lips were a hair's width away from yours, "If you are serious, I'm willin' to try this, whatever this is." He whispered. His thumb traced your bottom lip lightly, causing you to gulp nervously. "I'll admit, I find you absolutely irresistible. But I also know that if I start something I might not be able to stop." He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

You chuckled lightly, your fingers gripping tightly around the front of his shirt, "You're such a tease, Joel." You mumbled under your breath as he smirked softly at you.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a gentle kiss, a shiver running down your spine at the sudden yet simple contact. His lips were firm and soft at the same time, just right. He held your chin, his grip tightening as he deepened the kiss. Your hands traveled from his chest to his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair. He groaned lightly against your lips, pressing his body more comfortably against yours. You both pulled apart after what felt like years, taking a few moments to catch your breath, both smiling at one another.

"So..." Joel breathed, his eyes gazing deeply into yours as his thumb rubbed circles into the crook of your neck.

“So,” You mimicked, smiling lightly, "Are you gonna teach me the guitar or not?" You whispered.

"Yeah," He breathed back, as you blushed lightly, realizing how close you two were to each other, "And you better pay attention this time."

[nescaveckwriter]

Paintbrushes And Romance 🥰🐞 - Part 17

Dean x Fem/Reader

Part 17 🥰🐞

A/N:Enjoy this one, its just wowzy, its fluffy for sure. 🐞💕

Side Note: Thank you for all the love and support, please do note I am open for requests. Much Love My Bugsies.💕🐞🥰

Warnings: Just pure fluff, if there's anything else, please let me know.🤭

......

Morning sweetheart, his fruity voice takes you by surprise, Morning babe, you sound so joyful this morning, your eyes still puffy from last night's sleep.

Dean lightly kisses your forehead, want to know what today is?

Babe she whined, I'm not in the mood for guessing games, glancing over to the alarm clock, its 4 in the morning.

Oh come on sleepyhead, he said mockingly, get that pretty little behind out of the bed.

Crinkling her nose, I just want to stay in bed today, she pouted.

Ha! Like my girl is going to spend her birthday in bed, he purred, we can do that later he smirked.

Not what I meant she mumbled!

Sweetheart I have a surprise for you he breathed in her ear, while kissing her neck softly.

Oh really, she laughed, what will that be? Her eyes filled with excitement.

Why would I tell you, if I can show you, his voice sounded smoky. I'll make us some breakfast while you get ready.

What should I wear?, she beamed.

You look good in anything sweetheart, but nothing will be just fine too, he cheered.

Throwing Dean with a pillow as he walks out of the room, made the both of you laugh.

....

The last eight months, has been a rollercoaster of emotions, mostly happy ones, some bad ones, like how you lost a good friend in Lisa, when she found out that, Dean's gotten back together with you, you felt horrible, knowing the two of you hurt her so much, but what could you do, after that day you realized you have never stopped loving Dean.

It was hard at first, to mend what was broken between you and Dean, but the two of you have gotten into this , easy going - doing life together cycle. Of course the two of you talked about the hard stuff as well, but for once in your life's, it was just easy, no fighting, no heartbreak, just happiness, it actually kind of felt you lived in some fantasy. Reviewing the way you look in the mirror, your eyes are brightly filled with joy, hair hanging loosely over your shoulders, light makeup covering your face. Grabbing your favorite pair of boots to round off the blue jeans, with a zeppelin shirt, sitting on the bed, pulling up the shoe's zipper, inspecting at last night's clothes scattered all across the floor, this back and forth between our houses, is driving you nuts.

Sweetheart, breakfast is ready Dean howled.

Walking in seeing Dean in a plain black t-shirt that's now slightly flour-stained, scraping out the last pieces of bacon, spikes your heart rate.

Sit down m'lady he mocked.

Thank you good sir, you teased back.

His face lit up with this big ole grin, giving you the plate, a stack of blueberry pancakes with a candle on top, and of course a side of bacon he laughed.

Your eyes welled up, babe, this is amazing thank you, squeezing his hand.

Glad you like it sweetheart, now eat, we've got a big day ahead he stated.

Overjoyed and very curious, you start digging into your breakfast.

.......

Where are we going Dean? Please tell me, she requested! Oh sweetheart would you just stop being so nosy, we are almost there, just a few more miles, Dean responded with his mischievous smile.

Folding your arms giving Dean a pouted look, mumbling its not fair. He stops the car, abruptly. Get Out! he ordered.

Confused and wide-eyed you get out, taking in the view its really beautiful, but way out of town. What are we doing here Babe?

Dean walks up to were your standing, with a smirk he says, time to close your eyes, covering your eyes with a bandana, whispering, are you ready? Helping you back in the car, you just laugh at him being all mysterious, I can't wait to see the surprise.

After a few minutes the car comes to a stop. Helping her out, he can feel the excitement, pulsing through her body, hoping she likes the surprise, he chews on his bottom lip. Okay you can look now.

Babe, she exclaimed this is beyond beautiful, taking in the sunrise, drawing in from the mountains, displaying, yellow and orange across the green trees, pulling him in for a hug, hearing his heart beating so fast.

Looking up at him, the way the orange dances in his emerald eyes, awakening every sense of her very being, thinking, this can't get any more perfect than this, Dean holding you tightly, breathtaking view..

Your thoughts gets interrupted, by his husky voice. I wanted us to share our first sunrise here sweetheart. Confusing on her face, first?

Yes sweetheart, this is our home, our own place, no more going back and forth, no more forgetting things, okay who am I kidding, my girl is an artist and a bit all over the place, you'll always forget stuff, he laughs.

Not true, you scold. Okay, lets agree to disagree, he says mockingly, interlacing his fingers through yours, leaning in, his lips inches away from yours, whispering I love you, then brushing his lips against yours, slowly, taking his time, like there's no other place he'd rather be, pulling away for an instant, admiring the look in his eyes, you replying in a hushed undertone, I love you too.

The corners of his mouth turning up and slightly crooked, let's go check out the house baby, in a swift motion he picks you up, cradling you in a bridal position, walking across the open field, towards the rustic house, adjusting her slightly so that he doesn't let her fall, opening the door knob, before walking over the threshold hearing him say, I know this isn't the traditional way to do it, but babe we have never done anything in the tradition, normal couple sense, he exclaimed.

Laughing, into his neck, placing little kisses till you finally reached his lips. Breathy, he pulls back, a nervous look on his face. Everything okay babe? concern visible in her soft voice.

Sweetheart, he clears his throat, going down on one knee, removing the chain around his neck, sliding the ring off, between his fingers, forever ain't long, and if you will let me, I would cherish you for as long as I live, loving you day after day, breathing air into your lungs when days are dark, carrying you when your legs are giving in because of the weight on your shoulders, baby since the first day, I couldn't take my eyes off of you, you took my breath away, and ever since then if your not close by, I can't breath, so will you and your paintbrushes come and color my life, making me the happiest man alive.

Standing there looking at him, clear nervousness visible, listening to his smoky voice, not fighting back the tears, emotion clear as you say, YES! a million times Yes.

Sliding the diamond ring over your finger, it fits perfectly he exclaimed, picking you up, swirling you around, placing a heartfelt kiss against your lips.

Its not until he puts you down, that you take a glance at the room, there's flowers, scattered in little heart shapes, like a million candles and fairy lights draping from the rustic wooden structures, turning around to take in the sight of the man your going to spend the rest of your life with, exclaiming this is the most perfect day ever.

He cups your face, giving you a small kiss, pulling away for an instant to admire your beautiful features , then like gravity pulling the two of you closer, you start to devour each other, he grabs the back of your legs, you wrapping around him, running your fingers through his hair, he starts walking to the kitchen counter.

Creak! What was that? the two of you breathed into each others lips, Bang! Dean's feet goes through the wooden floor, bringing the both of you two, to a fall, staring at each other wide-eyed, breaking into laughter, we might want to fix that first. Dean's eyes catches yours, he whispered underneath his breath, but first, pulling you in for yet another kiss.

[marvelmaniac2000]

Healing & Bruising

Summary: Somehow you got stuck in jail with some annoying prick.. but of course it’s the bad cowboys who know how to cheer you up. 

MINORS DNI +18 ONLY

Characters: Percy Dolarhyde x (fem!) reader 

Subject: Insecure! reader, low self esteem! Reader, mentions of violence, flirty percy, drug use, lots of dialogue, pure FLUFF, (classic tough exterior turns softy type scenario because we all know he’s a little boy inside)

Words: 1.2k 

Side Notes : Pauly Pookie!! The only one who can break my heart and stomp on it repeatedly and I’ll be okay with it IRL like no bs guys lol I think I found the ONE (husband)  lol. DANONATION!!!! 

Songs for inspo: Pray for the Wicked by Panic! At the Disco

Lose Control by Teddy Swims

     You were bawled up in the corner of your cell with dry tears streaming down your face. You couldn’t believe you were stuck here in this god forsaken filthy place. Everything about this jail made you want to throw up. The only reason you were in this place was, because you were at the wrong place at the wrong time. This was just you visiting a small town to gain some extra money on the side to support your side gig as a local singer. In the bar there were drunk men fighting back and forth and somehow you were caught in the middle and smashed a guy in the nose for pushing you onto a wooden door bruising your poor face. Well not only was your face bruised and purple to a pulp, but you  also needed someone to help bail you out of here. You've been in this cell for two nights now and wondered how much longer the sheriff was going to keep you in here. 

  The only thing that was keeping you entertained was daydreaming yourself with the life you finally almost had. You were stuck somewhere with your beloved boyfriend making babies and having a little cottage home near far out just a little ways from the town. There would be you humming your favorite tunes and making your own money on side to help support your beautiful family. And everything would be a happy ending. Things like that are what kept you from going crazy while fiddling with your delicate dress. Your corset was almost suffocating you and it was starting to bother you some more each day that went by.

“ Pardon me what day is it?” you ask the patrol officer sitting on the desk.

“It’s day 13 of August, ma'am… Is there somewhere you outta be?” He chuckled at your question.

“Um not really, but I sure wish a lady or someone could loosen this corset for me, it’s getting kinda tight” you pleaded.

"Well I can see what I can do once the sheriff comes around” he eyed you down before resume writing.

“Okay” is all  you could say before plotting down back on the gross bench. Suddenly you heard gunshots outside the tavern before standing up and holding your hands against the bars.

“What’s going on out there?” you asked.

“Don’t worry I’m sure it’s just good ole Dolaryhde causing trouble again.” You furrow your brows wondering who the hell he was referring to but you continue on looking at the door before a sudden entrance of the sheriff pushing a tall slender young boy into a cell next to yours.

"It wasn’t my fault!” Percy kicked the cell bars before finally settling down in the corner. You watched him from afar smelling a reek of rum from a distance. You wanted to cry again, reminded of being in a cell with god awful men like him. You weren’t a con artist, or thief or criminal. You simply were a woman looking to live her life as before and now you were hurt, dirty and prisoned by some strangers that you barely knew. The cowboy that was on watch gave you and Percy food before dozing off to sleep for the remainder of the night. Your eyes got puffy again thinking How much longer were you going to be here? 

   You crawled up in a ball on the floor and fell asleep again wanting time to finally pass by, until you were finally released. Most of the time you were a pretty deep sleeper but you kept hearing someone whistling near your cell. You turned over and looked up at the man watching you with a sly look.

“What’s a pussy cat like you doing in here?” Percy lowered his hat in awe seeing a woman in a jail.

“I-I punched a guy in the face” you croaked. You were still laying down with sleep in your voice.

“He had to deserve it, he ruined your pretty face.” Percy flirted. You smiled and slowly raised your head..

“I know it will get better soon, but that won’t happen until I get out of here first.” You got up from the ground and stood your face close to his. Percy had long greasy brown hair that framed his face, and a cute button face that made him innocent and handsome.

“I still think you are the most beautiful even with that mark” he reached out his fingers between the bars and before he touched you, you flinched a little at his warm hand feeling the swollen bruise against your face.

“I just want to take you home with me and fix you up, I bet your husband is waiting on you somewhere” Percy traced his finger down to your collarbone.

“Um no not married yet but I was just living around town enjoying my single years which you know is very odd for a woman” you looked down fiddling with your delicate fingers. “No I don’t think so, you are doing what you want to do, but I think you need a man like me to be with you just in case. These men in this town will try to do anything to a single gal, that’s why you’re in here. Men do many things that you wouldn’t think they would do.” 

  “I would take such care of you darling” he looked at you with a twinkle in his eyes. “I think you're just a drunk mister ..er” 

“Percy. My name is Percy but you can call me anything you want sugar”  Percy might have been drunk, but he mostly knew what he was feeling at that moment. It was very rare to catch many gals around his way, most of them were older or didn’t want anything to do with him, but with you he never saw anyone striking as you before or as gentle.

“I can get us out of here tomorrow” Percy held the bars, not taking you out of his sight.

“Then what percy? We’ll run off together?” you chuckle. He was adorable and drunk, but you liked him. You giggled running your fingers down his nose. Your fingernails brushing the side of his cheek. His eyes were pleading.

“You must have never had a mama in your life before huh?” You frowned a bit, feeling sympathy for him. “Not really, just me and Pa, but I have had aunts and never had a girl like me before” his hands rested against your waist between the bars. You slowly pressed your lips against his and sucked on his bottom lip with seduction.

”I think you should be mine” you stroked his brown hair and kissed him with tongue. Percy gave a deep breath  feeling his groin get rock hard. “Marry me?” Percy pecked your lips again. “Yes” you grinned. 

   Percy smiled and locked his fingers with yours. “Don’t worry baby, first thing tomorrow, me and you are getting out of here” you grinned with tears in your eyes falling in love with him.    

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[asterdisaster06]

Burnt Expresso

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader

Fluff

summary > Gaz and the reader reminisce on how they met, a lot of fluff and slight hurt/comfort of Gaz from reader

word count > 4.3k

cw > Slight mention of wounds, non-graphic

a/n > a bit of fluff to offset the angst I’ve been dishing out. and with our good ole boy gaz, gotta love him. a tad bit hurt comfort but only slightly. all’s well that ends well after all. i pinky promise <3

ao3

Gaz was the epitome of a perfect boyfriend. He did all the classic things like buy you flowers and take you out on dates to places you had talked about the week before. He knew all your favourites and if he didn’t he made an effort to change that. Kyle worked around his schedule to please you no matter what instead of the other way around. His texts made a warmth blossom in your chest and made you want to giggle and kick your feet like a teen experiencing their first crush. And in a way, he was your first love. Your first true love in the way that nobody before him had ever even began to rival. 

“Do you remember how we met?” You ask him for the quadrillionth time since you’ve started this relationship. It wasn’t your fault that it was such a good story that he just told so very well in a way that made your heart melt. You grip the coffee cup with your perfected order - that Kyle had memorised from the very first time you told him - contained within the mug. You sat across from him in the bookstore you two frequented when your time off schedules aligned just right. Although, you suspect that Price pulls some strings more often than not when it comes down to it. 

“Of course I do love,” He laughs, “but do I really have to tell this story again? I feel like you already know how it goes, little bird.”

You shoot him a look along with a toothy grin that gets his hands up in the air in mock surrender. You always were his weakness; he simply couldn’t resist you when you looked so beautiful like that. You always did, or so he claims. He tells you such every hour of every day in the week and then some. 

“Alright, alright,” Kyle starts. “It all started when I came back from a mission. . .”

 The story always elicited a rollercoaster of emotions from you no matter how many times it was repeated. It never got old for you two to reminisce on the cute meet and subsequent mutual pining that occurred afterwards. Simply put, you could never get tired of Gaz, and he you. 

It all started when the taskforce returned from a mission gone wrong in which the intel seemed to be quite awry. There existed an ambush that ended in Kyle taking a bullet to the abdomen despite the team's best efforts to cover all aspects of their tight formation. The one that was quickly devised by Ghost in an effort to stand their ground against the newly developed enemies. Gaz swears up and down that his continuous misfortune - in reference to more than one helicopter incident - is what caused the team to escape out of that situation alive. He claims his sustained injuries caused the team to fight hard enough to create a gap in the enemy frontline that they ended up escaping from - although you say this is pure hearsay. 

Whatever had ended up causing the 141 boys to be strong enough to return home to the base had your immense gratitude. Your friend being sick and asking you to cover your shift was something that you were forever thankful for as well. What had started as a day that left you grumbling to yourself about the injustice of work and capitalism had eventually led you to the love of your life, so you couldn’t complain too much about it. 

Most of the day consisted of training gone wrong with strained muscles or someone had gotten into a fight they couldn’t handle because they said the wrong thing to the wrong person. This was the majority of cases when on a military base such as this. At least, it seemed to be until Gaz was rolled in with active hemorrhaging. It wasn’t a sight you hadn’t seen before given your job title. The surgeons on duty did their job well; well enough to save Gaz’s life much to the relief of everyone involved. 

He was well onto the road of recovery with a healthy dose of morphine to keep him comfortable as he healed. However, that morphine also turned him into a talkative little pest that kept bothering the nurses away with his prattling and brutal honesty. In his defence, the one nurse he had was quite the old hag that had an infected hair follicle on her face that you couldn’t help but stare at; although, you always chastise him for being rude about it. He claims he couldn’t help it when he was all hyped up on morphine, but you suspect that he just wanted to get rid of the older woman because she wouldn’t give him a candy bar. 

You say this because as soon as she grabbed your arm and shoved you in there - claiming that she wasn’t taking care of this ungrateful little brat any longer - he stared at you with puppy dog eyes and asked if you would, and this is verbatim, ‘pretty please get me a chocolate bar to ease my suffering.’ You stood there, blinking dumbly for a second before bursting out into laughter. At that his sweet gaze quickly turned into this grown ass man almost bursting into tears with a prominent frown on his face. 

At this you quickly reassured him that you weren’t laughing at his misfortune but simply the humourous situation. You also explain that it probably isn’t the best idea to eat solid food after his surgery to remove the bullet fragments, but you can get him some chocolate pudding from the cantine. He looked at you with shining eyes like you just told him you could give him a million dollars. You shoot him a small simper as you scamper off to get him that chocolate pudding that definitely wasn’t the greatest but would do the job. 

The period of time in which he shovelled the globs of pudding down his throat was the only few minutes that he stayed quiet in the hospital unless he was asleep. You always call him mouse as a pet name due to the similarity he held in the medic bay to the story “If You Give A Mouse A Cookie.” After the chocolate he asked for milk, which you substituted for the water you had easier access to. And then he needed another blanket because he was cold. And then one less blanket because he got too hot. 

Of course, he always said please and thank you after these asks so you didn’t mind too much. Especially since between the queries he entertained you with stories that you were convinced were confidential - whether because of the mission details or how embarrassing they were. That and the fact he said, “Don’t tell Price I told you that,” right as the mentioned Captain walked through the door. Price profusely apologised for what you must have had to deal with since he knows what Kyle is like on morphine. Gaz always vehemently denies the severity of how bad he was when he gets to this point of the story, but you promptly remind him that he had no memory of how he acts so he doesn’t get a say in this topic. 

A mysterious gift basket of chocolates arrives at the medic bay, addressed to you by the 141 team. It warmed your heart and got a good chuckle out of you, but for the time being you truly didn’t think that anything else would come of it. Especially when you have so many different individual patients to treat on the daily - it’s easy to lose faces in the crowd. Fortunately, or unfortunately in this case, the taskforce were prone to getting a tad bit rough during training - especially when they’re trying to show off in front of the recruits. 

Gaz came in with a strained shoulder and an odd bite mark on his arm from Soap who was respectful enough to have a semi-shameful look on his face. The story went that Kyle most definitely would have won that fight fair and square if Soap hadn’t been so bitey that particular day. Johnny claims that it was to show the recruits that sometimes you have to fight dirty, but it was also said that this was going to be a clean fight, so you don’t know what to believe exactly. 

Nonetheless, you looked at the morphine fiend and his apologetic friend for taking up your time with something completely preventable. You were quick to assure them that it was a slow day that needed something exciting, and it certainly was going to be an interesting experience for you. They ask if you received the gift basket, claiming that they felt it was only right to thank you for taking the time to tend to all of Gaz’s possible whims and wishes. 

Sitting Gaz down, you inspect the bite mark and marvel at either how sharp Soap’s teeth had to have been or how hard he must have had to bite down to break some of the skin. You quickly clean it, muttering apologies under your breath to Kyle in an attempt to comfort him from the stinging of the antiseptic. For strong military men, you’d be surprised how much mild, everyday things bother them - and don’t even get you started on that one time half the base had a cold. 

You question the boys on how exactly this happened and are treated to the thrilling account of how Soap handed Gaz’s ass to him - although even at the time you were pretty sure this was exaggerated. Your future lover corrects him on multiple occasions on details that were fabricated in an attempt to make you laugh; however, the story did elicit a few chuckles from you while you were bandaging the human inflicted wound. Not something you see everyday. You send the boys on their way with quickly spoken advice to ice that shoulder to keep it healing fast enough for their next mission. 

. . .

“Ah, sorry love, Price is calling me,” Gaz sends you an apologetic look as you send him a reassuring smile while shooing him off. Duty calls after all. 

You look down at your wrist, fiddling with the charms on the matching bracelet you shared with your boyfriend. He says it makes him feel more connected to you, but you’re inclined to think that it’s the cute trinkets that you could add to the jewellery that enticed him. He had things that reminded him of you and vice versa. It made a smile spread across your features at the charms that told a story as long as you were able to look beyond the mere image of them.

The small helicopter shines back at you with the memory of Gaz risking his life after he fell out of the chopper while still completing the mission. It still makes your heart drop thinking about how he had to cut himself free onto a moving vehicle lest he became a human pancake. Next to that one is a small jet black assault rifle charm that is an imagery of Gaz’s favourite weapon; something that he wanted you to keep close to your heart as a reminder of how he’ll always be there to protect you. Following that is a UK flag gem that you picked up from some tourist shop while visiting London to visit his family. You found that it reminded you of Gaz no matter how silly the fact that you got a flag of his nationality was. 

You remember that Gaz has a medic kit charm on his in order to honour your profession alongside serving a reminder of how you had saved his life on multiple occasions. He insisted on it, claiming that if the weapon on yours is a testament to his career, that he should carry something of your job choice close to him. It genuinely warmed your heart that he considered that you protected him as much as he did you throughout the short time of knowing each other. Kyle decided to add a small bird to his bracelet in reference to his affectionate nickname that he bestowed upon you. 

“Hey little bird. What are you thinking so hard about?” 

Speak of the devil.

“Nothin’ much, just about us,” You say with a dopey smile on your face.

“Speaking of us, we were just invited to a team dinner tonight,” Gaz said, mirroring the grin on your face. 

“Are you sure they won’t mind me being there?” You couldn’t help but be slightly insecure about your position in the tightly social knit taskforce. Kyle asserts the fact that you’re an honorary member - he reiterates the fact that you’ve been recruited on a few of their missions to be the on-call medic - and if you aren’t there the team always asks about you. 

“Love, I don’t think they’d let me in if you aren’t there on my arm,” He laughs light-heartedly, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. 

“I’ll go, but. . .” You start, a teasing tone flitting about your words like a small hummingbird.

“But?” Gaz says leaning in to hear your next words better. 

“You gotta finish the story on our way home,” You finish with a laugh coating your honey sweet words. 

“I would tell that story a thousand times over just to see that smile on your face.”

“That was so cheesy, Kyle.”

“I know, that’s why I said it,” He says as a cheeky grin finds its way onto his features. 

You roll your eyes at that and hand Gaz the leftover coffee cup and the straw wrapper to go recycle - Kyle has always been weirdly conscious of what’s recyclable and what’s not. A little quirk that made you love him all the much more. As you walked out, Gaz held the door for you and soon interlocked his fingers with yours just to make sure you don’t get lost - or so he says. He opens his mouth to continue the story with you hanging onto every last word despite the fact that you know exactly what happens next. 

. . .

It was yet again another few weeks before you got a glimpse of Garrick, and you had almost forgotten about his kind smile and the way his words made your heart skip a beat. That was, until the group got back from the mission with a little less blood than they had gone out with - a lot less in Soap’s case. The man had unfortunately gotten into a little scuffle with more guards than he could handle and had gotten stabbed twice in the abdomen. The surgery he needed was out of your jurisdiction, so the only thing you could do was tend to the scrapes and bumps the rest of the taskforce had received out on the field. It was significantly harder when one straight up refused to be touched by you even for medical reasons and the other spurned your advances out of self-deprecation. Apparently Gaz was supposed to be with Soap but was busy escorting unknown civilians out of the area. 

“It’s not your fault, and I think Soap will tell you that ten times over when he gets out of surgery,” You hum, finally being able to bandage a scrape on his leg. 

“Like hell it isn't. I was supposed to be there, to cover him,” Gaz breaks down.

“There was no right or wrong decision in that scenario, especially with what you knew at the time,” You profess.

“What if he’s gone and it’s my fault? They would never forgive me, and I can’t say I would blame them!” He’s borderline hysterical at this point, seemingly unable to cope with the very idea of his close friend dying on his watch. 

“Based on the wounds he sustained and the locations, what I can say is that he has a high chance of making a full recovery. I know these people, these surgeons, and I can tell you they’re giving Soap the best chance he could have to live another day to spout his Scottish slang all around base.” You gently hover your palm near his cheek; not knowing whether he’s as adverse to touch as his coworkers. As luck would have it, he needed the comfort as much as you needed to give it to the broken man. You rub his back, whispering soft words as he openly sobs into your shoulder with a grip that accurately portrayed just exactly how affected he was by this situation. 

As he calms, you reassure him that you’re there for him, but that you need to finish dressing his wounds. Snapping out of it at this point, Gaz allows you to finish your tentative cleansing of the seemingly superficial scratches and cuts all around his skin. For all the protective gear these guys have, they get an absurd amount of non-lethal lacerations and abrasions from their environment. You stand up and are about to check the clock behind you for the time when Gaz grasps your hand lightly and begs you not to go with a crack in his voice that makes your heart absolutely break at the sight of this man that had such a defeated look in his eyes. 

“I’m not leaving you, I promise. Not if I can help it at least,” You reassure, treating him like a stray dog. 

You held him in a way that was most definitely not professional, but considering that the 141 were the only active patients in the building, it likely wouldn’t get you in too much trouble. You consoled him, empathising with his guilt that you knew all too well. That’s exactly how you were found by Price - with Gaz in your arms and his head burrowed into the crook of your neck. His tears were wetting your shoulder; although, you didn’t mind too much considering the fact you knew this was what he needed from someone. And if that person happened to be you, you weren’t complaining. 

“Hey,” A soft spoken word from Price interrupts the moment.

Gaz pulls himself together for the second time and stares down at his hands as if questioning how well you did your job of cleaning them of leftover blood. You would feel slightly offended if it wasn’t for how shellshocked the soldier was. 

“Captain,” You send a nod of respect to the reputable leader. 

He walks over, hesitantly laying one of his hands on the shoulder of his teammate. You could tell from looking at his expression and the look in his eyes that he was truly concerned for the man. You smile internally at the fact that it seemed Gaz would be in good hands when it came to dealing with his personal demons. It wouldn’t be wrong of you to suspect that all of the soldiers you met with on a day to day basis had at least some skeletons in their closet that they keep hidden away from the world. At least, until the cracks begin to become too much and it culminates into something like this. Something that brings them to their knees with the weight of the world on their shoulders. It still makes you cringe to this day at the thought of Kyle taking all of the responsibility - even with some things he can’t help. He’s been through his own personalised hell all on his own with expectations that only he would place on himself. 

You send a nod to Price and untangle yourself from Gaz, quietly whispering to him that you’ll check in later to which you get a small nod in response. You walk the halls filled with a deafening silence beyond the repetitive noises of machines. Your goal is to check on the condition of one John “Soap” MacTavish and to see when exactly he’ll be waking up. You find your answer in the words of a doctor who you’ve done a few favours for in the past. She tells you exactly what room you could find the quickly recovering Soap - much to your surprise. Apparently you had spent more time with Gaz than you thought, enough for Soap to get out of surgery and into the recovery unit. 

You peek into the room, attempting to be quiet to allow him to get some rest, but he was already up and babbling to himself. You scan what he’s all hooked up to and realise it’s a similar setup to what Gaz had that time he was shot. Morphine and all. You chuckle to yourself softly before you can even realise what you’re doing - meaning that Soap had indeed heard you and excitedly greeted you almost like a puppy would. You gently shake your head in an affectionate manner, walking up to his bedside and checking his chart. It indicated that Soap would make a full recovery from his wound. You exchange pleasantries with the disoriented man - as much as you coherently could when it comes to his nonsensical words - and state that you’ll be back with Gaz and Price soon. You get a spacey nod and a slowly spoken ‘affirmative’ before you exit the room. 

Gaz was still in a state of shock and guilt when you walked in, barely acknowledging the light knock you did against the door frame. The only thing he responded to was you saying aloud that Soap was both physically well and deemed okay for short visitation. The bloodshot eyes and running nose sent a pang through your heart; a certain respect forming in your mind of the man that appeared so broken up over the injury of a teammate. 

Leading the pair of soldiers to their friend’s room made you feel like you were doing something good. Although, you did make a point to off-handedly mention the names of your surgeon friends to Price who said he’d make sure to send them a thank you note. The heart warming sight of Soap and Gaz’s embrace made you feel like you were intruding on something. This feeling was furthered by the fervour of Soap’s consoling of Gaz, assuring him that he was not only okay but that nobody found any fault with his actions. You were about to slip out of the room quietly but you hadn’t gone unnoticed. Gaz’s voice cut through the air and reached your ears with the words asking you to stay. Soap seconded that and Price simply smiled and shrugged. 

“You’ve saved us enough times to be considered a member of the team, which means you’re allowed at the dinner table,” Gaz gave a soft smile with his words that cracked in his throat. 

“Aye, maybe if you were with us I would have kept my blood in me, every last drop,” Soap jokes, quoting your words on a previous mission that admonished him for getting so injured. 

“You would be welcomed on the team, Doc, you’ve already been on enough missions to see how it works. You have the training on your file, and I think we would all welcome you with open arms,” Price says.

“Agreed,” Ghost says from behind you in the doorway, effectively scaring the shit out of you. 

And that’s how it all started, joining the team and inevitably getting closer to Gaz. Getting to know him beyond the front of a tough soldier that he portrays in order to stay alive on the field. His sensitive side, his favourite things, his life outside of the SAS, his pure love and adoration for you. Something that you never thought was possible, but fate has a weird way of leading people to something they need.  And you two sure as hell needed each other, then and now. The many nuances of life with each other that led to this moment are always something you bring up from time to time - Gaz does too sometimes, but more often than not it’s if something in the present reminds him of the past. Although, this particular story is something that you always feel is what started it all, and it’s why you like bringing it up so often. 

. . .

“We’re home, love, just in time,” Gaz smiles, gently squeezing your intertwined hands. 

“You know I love you, right?” You ask, feeling a need to express the joy and fondness within you that’s about ready to burst out your chest. 

“Of course, and I you. Forever and always,” He says, staring into your eyes with a swirl of warmth and tenderness in his irises. 

“Forever and always. . .” You trail off, a thought appearing in your mind.

“What is it?”

“Can you tell the story of how you courted me on the way to dinner?” You say with a soft smile, knowing how much this tale embarasses him.

“Jesus Christ, you’re being a real menace today, little bird, you know that?” Gaz says with a toothy grin as he unlocks the door to your shared apartment. 

“But I’m your menace, and is that a yes?” You ask teasingly.

“Of course it’s a yes. I could never say no to you,” He says dotingly. 

You two share a laugh at that, knowing that it’s the truth. You were his biggest weakness and best friend all wrapped into one. You kept each other afloat through it all, and in turn gave each other the gifts of appreciation for how life seemed to align just right to make you two fall into each other. The memories of the fast-paced dates to amusement parks where you had to convince Kyle to get on at least one roller coaster - a compromise was made for a kid friendly one - clash against the slow and intimate moments spent on picnics or stay at home dinners filled with kisses and cuddles. You wouldn’t trade this lifestyle for the world, and neither would your true love Kyle “Gaz” Garrick. In this lifetime or any other. You two had made a pinky promise over it after all, and you certainly couldn’t break one of those. 

[kkarmiic]

mirage anon here! naming myself how quaint today has been kinda shitty so could I get some good ol Mirage comfort after a really, really bad day? I'm talking the worst day possible-- outfit ruined, bad hair day, just EVERYTHING going wrong?? thank you if you end up doing this <33

# ‘TOMORROW - MIRAGE X GN!READER COMFORT

🫐 ‘CONTENT AND WARNINGS

\\ synopsis: everything that can go wrong, goes wrong, mirage is there to help

+* genre: fluff/comfort

‘# warnings: eye pulling, self doubt, he calls you love

// authors note: hey mirage anon! I’m sorry to hear about your shitty day, I understand how those feels, I hope this helps at least a little.

Your day had been downright awful, down to every single detail. From the moment you opened your eyes, everything was already horrific. You had seemingly slept in a weird position that night, evident by the dull ache in your shoulder and neck.

To make matters worse, you were already twenty minutes behind schedule, you had slept through your alarm. Fuck. Stomping over to your mirror, rolling your shoulder in a feeble attempt for the pain to disappear, you realized how obvious your dark circles were and how your hair stuck out in directions you didn't even know were possible.

Of course, you tried to push it aside, telling yourself it could be fixed with a little concealer and styling. That, however, did so little to help with your situation. The concealer had run out the day prior and your hair would just not lay how you wanted it.

Just your luck.

Tonight was supposed to be your date with Mirage, it was quaint, sure, he was going to make you a homecooked meal and you two were planning on watching the stars, but still, what would he think of you if he saw you like this?

It was only early days in your relationship, about a month in, and you weren't prepared for his perception of you to change, for him to see you as lazy, or a slob.

You were far too stressed out for ten in the morning, pulling your eyes down and just... Staring. Staring at yourself in the mirror, criticizing your appearance.

You know what they say, when things are at their lowest they can only go up.

Wrong. You were on a Ferris wheel, locked into your seat with no way of escaping, on a constant round of low, and high and low and high, with seemingly no end. It was exhausting, and you just wanted to get off.

So there you were, wearing your favourite outfit, hoping it would lift your spirits a little, and hopefully distract Mirage, at least a small amount. And it did, only for a mere moment though, you were halfway to Mirage's when the rain began pouring down, and this happened to be the one day where you didn't bring your umbrella, too focused on being late, and the way you looked, to even worry about checking the weather forecast.

Hands trembling as you walked, you reached for your phone in your pocket, before realising, that wasn't there either.

Panic. That was the only word to describe what you felt at that moment, pure panic. Had you dropped it somewhere? Maybe on the way to his? You were too late to turn back now, someone probably would've picked it up by now, and maybe it was already stolen. Maybe-

You left it on your bedside table, next to your umbrella.

Nonetheless, you kept walking, and you couldn't tell what was rain and what was tears after a certain point. They were so perfectly blended, heart aching as you walked.

Mirage, no, Elliot, you reminded yourself, always looked so perfect, with his neatly formed curls, and clear skin, you'd never seen him with one blemish, or eyebags like you, or with his hair askew. What would he think of you?

You had half a mind to turn back now, go home, and text him, faking that you were sick. But he'd probably turn up at your door instead, that was the kind of man he is, a gentleman.

Elliot couldn't worry about you, it wouldn't be fair to put him through that, and that's how you ended up on his doorstep, even despite all your worries. Placing three tentative knocks before it was quickly swung open, it seemed like he'd been waiting for you.

However, his smile quickly faded to a frown, of concern or disappointment, you couldn't tell.

"You're going to get s- uh- soa-" He paused, readjusting, instead of correcting his sentence, he ushered you in, he knew you knew him well enough to understand what he meant.

"Are you okay?!" He asked, shutting and locking the door behind you, hand placed gently on your bicep, feeling the soaked fabric of your shirt.

You wanted to tell him no, about how awful your day was, about how everything seemed to be going wrong, about how the whole world was against you, but you didn't. "Yeah... Just forgot my umbrella." You muttered, offering him a shrug of your shoulders, but that didn't seem to convince him, not one bit.

"How about you go upstairs? Get a hoodie and some sweats. You left some here last time. Or you could get changed into mind. I- Uhm- I don't... I don't mind." He took a shuddery breath, covering the pink tint on his cheeks.

"Anyways! I'll have a warm drink down here when you're done, okay?" He offered a soft smile towards you, already beginning to make your drink of choice.

When you returned downstairs, your drink was sat in your usual seat, the smell of food wafting from the oven making your mouth water.

"Want to talk?" He asked, cocking his head, waiting on your answer, and when you didn't respond he continued. "I can see something's buggin' ya. If you need to talk I'm always in your corner."

The compassion he was showing you was too much, he was too nice, and that was too much. You cried for the second time today, choking on your sobs as you tried to tell him about how shitty your day was, but nothing was coming out.

Mirage's eyes widened in shock, rushing round to your side before taking the seat next to you, a firm hand resting on your back, rubbing slow circles. "Take your time, love." He was ever so patient with you, you could never ask for more.

"I've just- I've just had the worst day today." You choked, covering your face with your hands. "I woke up and I obviously slept in a funny position, my whole body hurts." You began recounting your day. "I even left my fucking phone at home, like an idiot!"

There was a moment's silence before he moved his body to be facing yours, pulling your stool closer to his, and grasping your hands. "Darling. You're not an idiot. We all have bad days and that's fine. Sometimes you need a few days, to recover or... For it to just pass." He rested his forehead against yours, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose.

"No matter what, I'm right by your side. Tomorrow will be better. Swear on it."

POSTED BY: APOLLO

[loosesodamarble]

Yo, hru? Congrats on reaching your milestone! Can I have a Dabi (from BNHA) fluff scenario w prompt C2. Their pouty face was so unbearably adorable, (Blank) couldn’t help but swoon a little. , pls?

Yo! I am doing well! I'm sorry that it took a while to write this. The muses are stingy with me at the moment... 😅

But the fic is written now! And I have to say... An unexpectedly fun write for me. And I think some of the lines in this piece might be my favorites that I came up with during this whole follower event. So like, thank you Anon for the request~! 💖

Summary: It's date day for you and Dabi. You walk and talk and Dabi thinks your face is the cutest in the world. Genre: fluff Word count: ~700

..........

You glanced at your phone at your last message from your boyfriend. There was a time and place for a rendezvous, as well as the line [Look as good as you always do.] Smiling and laughing, you put your device away.

No wonder he was a Villain. What with the way he stole your heart.

“What’s a fine looking citizen like yourself doing near a dingy ol’ alleyway?” A familiarly husky voice asked before an arm hooked around your shoulders. “Looking to be kidnapped?”

“Whoops, not really!” you joked, sliding away from the voice. “Sorry, I only read dark romance! I’m not one for living it!”

You turned and grinned at Dabi. He smiled back from underneath his high collar coat and baseball cap. Reaching out your hand, you walked back over to him. Your hand and his became intertwined and you began to walk side-by-side.

“I’m glad we can meet in person on occasion,” you mused as you eyed some of the new fashions in a store window. You looked back at him. “But why can’t we do it more often? Or just move in together?”

“‘Cause life ain’t fair,” Dabi answered, sighing. “Besides, you shouldn’t be joining the circles I run in.”

You raised a brow at him.

“My record ain’t clean so I think I’d be fine,” you whispered, a little offended that he still treated you like an innocent nobody. “C’mon! Lemme into your club!” Leaning back, you batted your eyes with faux innocence. “Imagine all the IDs and money I could forge for you…”

Despite what you were saying, of the crimes you were willing to commit and for his sake, you spoke with a cute, whiny voice. And your face… Your pouty face was so unbearably adorable, Dabi couldn’t help but swoon a little.

It was like you and Dabi were high school sweethearts and not on the run from the law.

Life was Hell for Dabi. A burning, aching Hell that he threw himself into. But in the midst of the wretched misfortune he called life, he had you.

You were not someone pure. You were no delicate princess or little piece of Heaven for him to protect. Some lovesick poet might’ve called you that. But Dabi wasn’t a poet and he knew better than to treat you that way. Knew better than to call you an angel or to want for Heaven, or whatever salvation that society had to offer.

No. To Dabi, you were a magician. One who created an illusion of normalcy for the two of you. That was all he wanted, all he needed.

If Dabi was to allow himself one weakness, he wanted it to be you.

“Well when you put it like that…” Dabi started, intentionally letting his voice trail off. “No.”

“Dude!” you gasped.

Dabi leaned in and then poked the tip of your nose.

“Get back to me when you manage to kill someone. Then I’ll reconsider.”

“Ugh, you are the most unfairest boyfriend I’ve ever had!” you grumbled. You pouted again, though this time in anger rather than to beg. And Dabi still found it impossibly adorable. “And that’s saying something when one almost ratted me out.”

“You still love me though, don’t you?” Dabi asked as he gave your hand a squeeze.

“Hmph!” You turned your head away, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“C’mon, don’t be shy!”

“I’m not shy! I just don’t love you!”

“And now you’re turning into a liar!” Dabi said in a sing-song tone.

Dabi continued to pester you while you shot down his every attempt to get an “I love you” from your lips. Despite the “argument,” you two never let go of each other’s hands.

The banter only stopped when you approached a crepe stand.

“You only get it if you confess your love for me,” he offered with a grin.

He knew you could never turn down a crepe. Especially when it was on him.

“Extra whipped cream and I love you for all eternity.”

“Deal.”

Of course, Dabi didn’t let you have it all to yourself. His money meant he got the first bite, earning yet another one of your precious pouting faces. Not a bad deal in his mind.

[redheadspark]

👋🏿 for your falling in love Prompts

1. "I genuinely don't know why my brain just goes blank when I look at you. I think I'm going a little crazy." With Druig.

Happy Writing!

A/N - SQUEEEAALLLL!!! This is PERFECT for Druig and Clío, dear Stella. Thank you for requesting it, bestie!!

This is in the Melody Universe but way in the beginning, right around the time they get together and they first say "I love you" to one another. :)

Pause

Summary - Druig finds himself tongue-tied with Clío around, wishing he could say the very three words that would change everything for them.

Warnings - Just some good ol' fluff for our couple

"You have everything?"

"I think so, I'm not sure..."

Gilgamesh chuckled as Druig was looking at the small basket he made for the picnic he planned out for himself and Clío, making sure there was enough of her favorite fruit and his favorite cheese too. His mind was going a bit on overdrive at the moment, fingers clumsily pushing through some of the food that was already packed to make sure everything was there that he would need.

He was nervous. Why was he nervous?

Druig and Clío first kissed a year ago, changing their relationship instantly and for the better. Ever since that night under the stars, they both were an item and blissfully happy. Druig was beyond happy for certain, having someone whom he cared for him his life and in his heart made the days brighter and the hard moments less tedious. He knew Clío felt the same way, the pair of them always together with hands held between them and soft stares at one another.

Of course, with this new relationship was the bickering and teasing from the others in The Domo. Phastos would chuckle as they would walk by together in the morning, Kingo with jokingly gag , and Sprite merely rolled her eyes. Yet Sersi, Gilgamesh, and Makkari were more than supportive, giving both Clío and Druig hugs and words of encouragement.

Ajak was the biggest supporter of them all, finding great joy that her two Eternals were getting together and finding affection in one another. Druig had to blush when Ajak hugged him tightly and gave her words and praises.

"You two are perfect for one another, Druig! Clío is such a kind soul, both of your souls are! I can feel the love already!"

Love. What a scary word.

Druig's feelings for Clío was nothing short but pure and deep, finding his own soul tethered to hers and not having the heart to let it go. He found peace with Clío everyday, the tension of saving the humans seemed a bit less when she would take his hand or give him words of encouragement and bravery. It was as if she knew what he needed to let himself up, and Druig tried his best to do the same for her too. He made her tea when her voice was hoarse after using her screams on a Deviant, hold her close when she needed to relax, and making her laugh when her mood was low.

They both were a great match, yet Druig was hesitant to say those three words that he desperately wanted to say.

So now, he planned it out with a picnic. Clío and Druig would go on picnics all the time, finding sometime away from the rest of the group and letting the rest of the world roll by. Gilgamesh provided some of food and one of his bigger baskets he made with Thena, Druig being every thankful that Gilgamesh was a supporter of his relationship with Clío.

"You're gonna be fine, Druig," Gilgamesh reassured him as Druig placed the lid on the basket, Druig seeing a bright smile on the strong man's face, "Clío's gonna love it,"

"Thanks, Gil," he replied in a softer tone. Gilgamesh handed him the basket, clasping him on the shoulder lightly before Druig moved to find Clío. His heart was besting fast, he tried to calm himself before he could see her and not give away his nervousness. Though Clío could read him like a book, one of her better traits.

He finally found her, talking with Makkari in front of the opening of the Domo. Makkari was showing Clío some of her treasure she "found", or in Makkari's case, swiped. Clío's eyes were already lit up from each trinket shown, Druig's heartbeat was going a bit faster now as he approached her. Clío's eyes locked with his, her smile big and her radiant hair around her like a glowing halo.

Druig was petrified then. What was he thinking?

"You ready?" Clío asked, Druig gulping and nodded his head.

"Ready when you are," Druig answered.

"I think I ate my fill of cheese and fruit tonight,"

"Well then, my work is done,"

Clío giggled as Druig placed the last of the left over fruit back in the basket. Clío was sitting crisscrossed on the blanket, looking over the little cliff they were perched at and seeing the forest below them swaying a bit with the howling wind that was threatening to come. They've only been out there at that spot for an hour, not wishing to be out there too long before you would get in trouble with Ajak.

Druig, after packing away the basket and placing it to the side, looked silently at his better half as she was watching the different shades of green in the trees contrasting with the orange and pink sky above them. Her hair flowing in the wind behind her, her hands holed perfectly on her lap, and her freckles almost illuminated from the last rays of the sun.

There was never a dull moment for Druig when it came to watching Clío. Not even then.

"You know it's been a year since we got together," Druig explained calmly, Clío humming in agreement with a smile bigger on her face, "And I wanted to tell you that--"

Clío turned, making Druig stop and loose his train of thought for a split second. The way the wind flew across her face and in her hair, her eyes searching his and the smile that seemed to have been robbed from the sun itself, made all of his confidence and bravery to tell her those three words evaporate. His face must have looked a bit comical, Clío cocked her head at him and looked a bit concerned.

"Druig? You okay?" she asked, Druig finding himself grinning as he shook his head slowly.

"I..I just," He replied, taking in a long breath before he finally spoke to her, "I genuinely don't know why my brain just goes blank when I look at you. I think I'm going a little crazy."

Clío's blush on her cheeks was beyond infectious as she reached over to take his hands in hers, lacing their fingers together.

"You and your words," Clío hummed, "I feel very lucky to be with you, here on Earth."

"Me too," Druig immediately agreed, Clío's eyes going a bit big from hearing him say it in such a way, "Clío, I think I'm one of the luckiest beings on this planet for having you in my life, for you being with me. I'm not always the best to be around at the best of times.."

"Hey," Clío said, making Druig stop and look at her now as she scooted closer to him to make their knees touch, "You are prefect the way you are, Druig. Don't think that you're anything less, because you're not. Not to me,"

Druig grinned and brought up their joined hands to kiss the back of her own hand. Clío knew the best thing to tell him when he was feeling down or putting himself in a negative space, never too forceful or too blunt.

"You know just what to say to make me feel more myself," Druig hummed to her, keeping their hands close as he pressed another kiss against her hand delicately, "No one else can do that for me. That's why I love you,"

He felt her hand freeze, and Druig felt his heart completely stop.

He had everything planned out in his head, what he waned to say and how he wanted to say it. He practiced over a dozen times in his quarters back on The Domo, thinking he had it nailed down and it would go off without a hitch. But not this, not with how he said it so naturally and out of the blue.

This was not how he planned it.

His eyes went big and looked at Clío, whom was staring at hims if he was struck by lightening. Instantly, he was thinking of the worst. Did he say it wrong? Was he even meant to say it? Did Clío think the same thing? How could she not? It would be a sickest trick in the world if she wasn't feeling the exact same thing as he was.

"You...you love me?" Clío asked sheepishly, not in total shock, but with a hint of wonder behind it. Druig felt it all come to place then, in that moment with her. No matter how many times he practiced what to say, he was now going with his heart.

"Yeah....yeah I do," He replied in a breath, Clío breaking into a smile and Druig released a laugh. The relief of holding that in was almost like releasing a deep breath from deep in his lungs. He lowered their hands to be between their laps, Druig looking that your fingers lead and woven together.

"I know I'm a skeptic with a lot of things, ever since we came on this planet I question plenty of things around me and how this planet works. But there is only one thing that I know is certain and constant, and it's my love for you. Clío, you have made me happy, happier than I'v ever been since we came here all that time ago. I wanna do anythin' and everythin' I can to make you happy, and it sounds crazy comin' from me but--"

Clío pulled Druig's face in with her fingers and kissed him softly.

Druig lost his breath, almost whimpering against her lips as his hands were touching her elbows to almost ground himself. It felt almost surreal to have this with Clío, to enjoy this life on that planet with her. She made things brighter, more vibrant in his vision and in his soul as life move on around them.

Druig leaned into her a bit more, kissing her again and against as he felt her slip into his lap and his arms went around her waist. It felt so natural, so real, he would wish to have this feeling, this moment, for the rest of his life there on Earth if he could. Nothing else mattered for Druig, nothing was more important than the very Eternal that he adored being in his arms and making him feel beyond powerful.

Clío barely pulled away, her lips barely touching Druig's as she stared at him with her soft eyes and a soft grin.

"I love you too," she murmured to him, framing his face in her hands as she searched his eyes, "I think I have loved you for quite some time, Druig,"

Druig could do and be happy with all that has happened, knowing that he was loved on Earth.

"Clío," Druig said her name hoarsely, "I've loved you from the moment you said my name for the first time on The Domo,"

A giggle escaped her lips as Druig kissed her again, pouring all of his love into her and never wishing to let her go for one second. Once again, his heart was molded and changed for the better. He could never be the same again, not when the very Eternal who changed him for the better was just as deeply in love with him as he was with her.

For a moment too, he felt their should melting into one.

The End.

Tagged: @heartofwritiing @botanicalbarnes @basicrese @virtueassassin @hottpinkpenguin @reallysparklychaos

Valentines Prompt Session

[reveluving]

her cafe ; batfam x batmom reader

summary: you’re Bruce Wayne’s wife a.k.a Batmom, who’s also the owner of one of Gotham’s well-known café known as Mother’s Touch, where your family loves to visit.

warnings: pure fluff!

a/n: here it is, reuploading my first ever Batmom fic! y’all don’t know how good it feels to be writing for Batfam again 😭 (for those who have read this on my old acc a.k.a taiyakimmy, hi! this is my new acc!)

» check out my batmom m.list, or my full m.list!

✧･ﾟ Bruce Wayne:

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been at the register, half-listening to the customer drop pick-up lines after pick-up lines to you. You had a good sense of humor. Hell, Dick and Tim learned their puns from you!

But right now, you knew the man in front of you was nothing but trouble. Worst of all, you couldn’t do anything about it. Not unless he decided to lay his hands on you and thankfully, he hasn’t done that.

Sadly, that only meant smile respectfully even if it meant gritting your teeth.

You recognized the man as one of Bruce’s clients, Montgomery. He reeked of cheap cologne and bad businesses, you know, the usual. Maybe things didn’t go so well for him and your husband.

You were dreading for one of your employees to put you out of your misery. Though, giving them a side glance, you saw them shivering in one group. One of them got yelled at by Montgomery not too long ago for interrupting, after all.

“Mr. Montgomery, for the last time, I won’t go on a date with you. I’m a married woman and a mother, after all,” You knew he turned a deaf ear at your words and scoffed.

“Right, and what’s ol’ Bruce going to tell ya?”

"I mean, I won’t tell her anything, to be honest,” You smirked once Montgomery’s face paled, looking as if he might faint, hearing the voice of the one and only.

You peeked behind the sleazy man, seeing Bruce mirroring a similar smirk, but his eyes darkened. Your employees already ran to the kitchen, watching the tension unfold through the small window.

“You, on the other hand, well, that’s a different story,” Bruce tutted, “Now that you’re here, though, I've been thinking; that idea you proposed earlier?” He whistled, “A little too risky, y’know,”

“Wooah, heeey, wait, wait,” Montgomery laughed nervously, shrinking once he faced him, “Come on, pal, I’d never lay a finger on her. Cross my heart! And I’ve only told you half of my plan. I’ll make the other half worth your time,”

Bruce pretended to think for a moment.

“Sure, it wouldn’t hurt to give a second thought,” He shrugged nonchalantly. By now, you’ve moved away from the cashier, standing close to Bruce, “I’ll see you in the office at 3, alright? I just need a word with wife for a moment,”

Montgomery didn’t wait to answer and made a beeline for the exit with his now-cold cup of latte. You closed your eyes, sighing in relief. Before you could even thank your savior, he wrapped his arm around your waist—almost possessively.

“Your knuckles were white, y'know,” He hid his face in your neck, breath hitched once you felt his hot breath, “I’m sure he could’ve handled a punch or three, would’ve been nice,”

He meant to say hot but that’ll do.

You clicked your tongue, but not out of annoyance.

“And risk our little safe haven? Please,” You and Bruce watched as Montgomery nearly tripped, trying to cross the road, “I hope you’re not actually going to approve that project of his,”

“Absolutely not,” You could’ve sworn he growled under his breath, wrapping his other arm around your front. You’re glad the others are in the kitchen. Even so, you could feel your face grow hotter.

You hid your face in your hands, his low chuckle never failed to send shivers down your spine.

Knowing he’s the only one that could make you this flustered mattered more than even the most expensive of projects he’s done.

You’ve given him love, sanity and most importantly; hope. There’s no way he’s letting some good-for-nothing egomaniac go anywhere close to him and especially you.

✧･ﾟ Dick Grayson:

“You sure she won’t mind?” Barbara asked for the umpteenth time, causing Dick to sigh for the same amount. He placed both of his hands on her shoulders with a reassuring smile.

“Yes, Babs, I’m positive. I’d be in huge trouble if I at least didn’t say hi, aaand I learned that the hard way,” Barbara wasn’t sure if he was kidding or reminiscing in fear, “And since you’ve never been to the place, I thought it’d be the perfect time for you to meet her,”

Now that she thought about it, she’s not sure why. Just days ago, she confessed to Dick how she’s never stepped into the café. The one thing she had before was your pancakes her father once brought home and holy shit.

That was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

She knew it was a big deal, judging from Dick’s offended gasp. He swore to bring her as soon as possible. He made a mental note to bring her during non-peak hours so you two could meet. He’s been meaning to see you too anyway.

One thing though; he’s praying you wouldn’t embarrass him too much.

The bell of the front door chimed once Dick pushed the door open, and they were immediately greeted with the smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries. Their shoulders automatically relaxed, and whatever unnecessary worries they had before just vanished.

So it’s true; your problems really do just vanish when you step in.

Barbara couldn’t help but marvel at the aesthetics of the café. They were much different from a lot of the cafes in the city; dull, dark, and just plain sad. Yours was bright from the natural light coming from the giant windows, and customers looked more alive. Dick looked over to Barbara, feeling proud at her awed expression. It’s the same look he had when he first stepped in as a kid.

The coffee shop was identical to those South Korean cafes and their too-good-to-be-eaten cakes you’d see online.

He escorted her to the window seat, also known as the best seat of the shop. Barbara’s eyes sparkled as she scanned through the single-page menu. Even the menu was interesting!

Dick chuckled before squinting his eyes at the counter, hoping to find a certain (H/C)-haired woman walking around. He perked up once he saw you stepped out of the storage room and raised his hand for your attention. Your neutral expression quickly turned into a beaming smile as soon as your eyes laid on him and approached the table.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my lil’ Dickie,” You purposely teased, seeing that he has company. His widened his eyes at you, as if to say ‘please don’t’. Barbara, on the other hand, couldn’t help but stare at you.

She’s seen you countless times on TV and Dick’s phone gallery, but seeing you up-close was a whole different experience. She has to know whatever your secret is to look this young. It’s no wonder that Bruce himself couldn’t resist your beauty. She flushed red once her eyes locked with yours, causing you to chortle.

“Now, are you going to introduce the sweetheart to me?” Dick let out a muffled mumbling before moving the menu away from his face.

“Barbara, this is my mom. Mom, this is Barbara, my study-buddy,” He succumbed to your half-smirk. He knew you weren’t going to let this go for a while.

“Ah!” You clasped your hands together in elation before whispering to Barbara, “Good to know someone’s keeping an eye out for my boy,”

You ignored your son face-planting on the table.

“It’s finally nice to meet the young Gordon, I’d say, you’re prettier than I imagined,” You held your chin, taking a good look at her. Barbara nearly hyperventilated, not expecting such boldness, and from you no less. Dick told her that you tend to praise others a lot. But, reverse those roles and you're as timid as a mouse. You were humble and he loves that about you.

“Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” You wore your glasses, previously hanging around your neck and clicked on your pen.

“I can’t visit my own mother without a reason?” Dick smiled cheekily, contrasting to the deadpan that you wore out of nowhere.

“Normally, your visits from Bludhaven have a reason, mister,” You narrowed your eyes, slowly leaning closer to him. He sunk back in his seat and soon, you were hovering over him. Barbara tried her best to stifle a laugh, “Right, well, I’m sure you two study-buddies are busy,“

You straightened your back, a kind smile making its return.

"Would you like the soufflé pancakes, dear?” You turned to Barbara—you’ve seen her eyeing the pancake category since you started bantering with the boy. Getting caught red-handed, she nodded.

“The one with caramelized bananas, please, and an iced black tea,” She requested politely. Dick had his usual order; a beef eggplant panini with iced black tea, too. He never missed a beat when it comes to the combo.

“Alright, you two hang tight, lunch will be ready in a jiffy,” You notified them in a sing-song manner before returning to the register. They watched you naturally interacting with the line of customers when a worker needed a hand.

“She’s really nice,” Barbara spoke softly, but Dick caught every word. Nice was an understatement he agreed nonetheless. No matter how sheepish he gets for being babied, he won’t ever love you any less.

✧･ﾟ Jason Todd:

You trudged to the final window blind, despite your muscles screaming in agony. Rush hour on Mondays is always a pain in the ass, and today was no different. Keeping a smile, dealing with rude customers, and working back and forth between the kitchen and the cashier was already a workout. Even so, you had the heart to tell your employees that you’ll close the shop on your own. They’ve helped you with most of the cleaning duties, so that’s good.

You paused, hearing a shuffling in the kitchen. You turned your head to the side, only to see a red-hooded man jumping over the counter.

“I just cleaned that, you know,” Well, no, you were lying. Your barista did but now you would have to wipe it, “Bad boy or not, there are rules here, young man,”

Jason grumbled, but instantly shut his mouth when you gave him an ‘I dare you’ glare. He raised his hands in defense before removing his helmet, catching your eyes with his all-too-familiar white streak of hair.

“You’re grumpy,” He stated as-a-matter-of-fact and took a rag hanging on the coffee machine before wiping the counter that he jumped over.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” With all the windows covered, you took the nearest cushion booth seat and landed on your back. Jason huffed in amusement, seeing your legs flailing around to stretch, “Stopping by the manor today?”

“Nah, sorry,” He didn’t wish to see the sadness, but he felt your eyes bore onto his back, “Ma, please,”

“I know, I know. My Jay’s a busy man, I’m just messing with ya,” Your smile was strained, but he knew you too well. Although his visits were frequent nowadays, that wasn’t the case for the manor. Sure, he and Bruce no longer had bad blood, but that didn’t mean he’d move back in like nothing happened, “C’mon, I saved some bestsellers for you,”

More often than not, you’d save a box of treats whenever Jason lets you know he’s coming. Whether he’s sharing with a partner or needs his me-time, you’re much more content knowing he’s not working on an empty stomach.

He watched you shuffled to the back of the counter before coming back to stand before him with ever-so-familiar pastry packaging.

“Got you some cinnamon buns, I can heat them up if you want?” Your aching body says no, but none of them mattered when it comes to your children. He took the box from your hands before setting it down on the table next to him. Confused, you were about to question him when he suddenly pulled you to his chest, hiding his face in your hair.

It’s unusual for Jason to do the honors. Normally, it’s you who would ask him for a hug.

“Jay, dear, what’s wrong?” He shook his head, so, you did what you knew comforted him; stroke his hair. Being the tallest kid amongst others, you’d have to crane your neck to a better angle so you wouldn’t suffocate.

Reminiscing his time as a kid, wandering around the dangerous streets, cold and starving was inevitable. It’s just those days that naturally come up to screw one over.

Then, he stumbled upon your shop, right when you’re about to close. He feared that you’ve called the cops for watching you in a distance when you walked back in.

You came back out and left a filled-up paper bag on your shop’s windowsill before returning home.

He went to his so-called home, weeping as he munched on your leftover buns and egg tarts.

Seeing you again in the Batcave with Bruce was like meeting his guardian angel. Whatever his fate would’ve been if he never met you was something he’d rather not think about. For now, he’s delighted to be in the arms of the woman that brought him back, both figuratively and literally.

✧･ﾟ Tim Drake:

“Tim?” He jolted in his seat, a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. He looked around, only to find that he’s still in the café, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me,”

“Sorry,” Tim gave you a bashful smile, yawning before taking the paper off his face. He came in an hour ago from his last class of the day to study. He wanted to greet you first but you were occupied, seeing that it was peak hours.

Instead, he took a seat and studied for a little bit. He regretted not ordering a cup of Joe beforehand and passed out with his head on his notes.

You placed a cup of his favorite on the table, and brushed his messy fringe to the side.

“Three cups only, alright?” You reminded—a rule he had to follow since you knew he’d have more at home late.

“Better than none, thanks mom,” He took a sip of his coffee and sighed in content. He stayed and studied until closing time so you could head home together. Cleaning the shop with you was his favorite, being able to catch-up and occasionally pour his feelings out just lifted the weights off his shoulders.

School was one thing, but being a vigilante was another. He knew he needed more than caffeine.

Of course, coffee is always a must, but spending even the shortest time with you is irreplaceable.

✧･ﾟCassandra Cain:

“Alriiight, I got us a jumbo, so we can share,” You carefully placed the vanilla milkshake on the table, further away from Cass’s notebook. The noirette looked up, giving you the smallest but thankful smile, “Alright sweetie, I’m ready,”

Usually, Cass’s visits on Wednesdays after rush hours were only so she could watch you work. Seeing her effort to stop by, you asked if she could help improve your sign language ability. You couldn’t forget the sparkle in her eyes.

Today, she wrote a little story so you could teach her how to read while she guides you to sign properly.

Ironically, the story consisted of a mother and her daughter. Although it was no more than 500 words, each sentence touched you.

It wasn’t until the final passage that it hit you.

'I would do anything for her.’

Your hands froze, unable to control the tear running down your cheek before you felt her thumb wiping it off. She took your hands hesitantly, almost as if she’s afraid you might push her away. You gently took hers in your hands.

You looked up, waiting for Cass’s next sign.

Or words, in this case.

“Thank you,” She was bashful with her struggles, but just hearing her it’s enough to make you weep with a smile.

Sure, the coffee shop never failed to make her feel safe.

But, it’s nothing compared to being by your side.

✧･ﾟ Duke Thomas:

Calm and Gotham were nowhere near synonymous, but somehow, the café would prove anyone wrong. It was almost magical.

Since he became a part of the Wayne, Duke would stop by every other day, daydreaming at the window counter seating. Watching anyone from the poorest to the richest of men pass by brought peace to his mind.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Duke jumped a little but was immediately brought to a state of tranquility once he recognized the voice.

“Just enjoying the view, that’s all,” Getting the idea of your open arms, he reciprocated a hug.

“I’m a little hurt that you didn’t say hello when you came in,” You pulled away while pursing your lips, only to find his guilty smile.

“You looked busy in the back, so I didn’t wanna interrupt anything,” Your expression softened patting his shoulder.

“Duke, I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again; nothing is more important than my own family. I’ll drop everything I’m holding, if it means one of you needs help,” While he knew the statement was meant to be serious, Duke couldn’t help but snort.

“God, please no. Especially if you’re holding a hot tray or something,” He fears the idea of you dropping a cookie pan drop to the floor just so he could say 'hi’.

“That includes dropping a pan,” You grinned, causing him to groan in his hands, but in reality, he’s grateful.

If anyone told the younger version of Duke Thomas that he’s a metahuman and is soon to be adopted by the Bruce Wayne and his wife, he’d probably just laugh incredulously. Then again, this is Gotham, we’re talking about. Nothing’s normal in this city.

Yet, he couldn’t ask for a better life. Not when he already has one right now.

✧･ﾟ Damian Wayne:

“Ummi,” You perked up, hearing your youngest called for you. Alfred had just dropped him at the café from school but notified you that he wasn’t his usual. You asked Alfred what it was and he tutted, saying that he 'promised the young master not to tell’.

“Damian!” You bent over the counter, seeing him rather crestfallen, “Why so glum, dear?”

His body language screamed reluctance, although he tried not to show it. He twiddled his thumbs before asking for your hand. You did as you were told, walking around the counter so both of you could sit at the corner seat meant for employees. He placed his school bag on the table, silence filling the table.

“Damian?” You said his name in the softest tone you could muster. You assumed the worst — some kid bullying him for his race again. As much as you disliked Talia, there’s no way in hell that you would ever bring race, ethnicity, religion, or anything similar into the argument, “Is someone bothering you again?”

You raised your eyebrows when he shook his head. He slowly took a folded piece of paper out of his bag before passing it to you with his head down.

You eyed him suspiciously before unfolding the mystery paper. It was his Science paper.

He got a B+.

“This… this is amazing!” You exclaimed and wore your glasses before flipping through the pages. Most of his mistakes still made sense to you, even if they weren’t the answer, “Not even a B — a B plus,”

“But,” He interjected, “I had an A plus for the previous exam,” He hasn’t had the chance to study as much as he wanted to due to sleepless nights, “I’m no longer sure if I can even be the first in class anymore,”

You lowered his paper, registering his words in surprise before shaking your head with an amused smile. You stood from your seat and kneeled in front of Damian.

“Is this what it’s all about? Damian, your exams don’t necessarily define you. First place or not, you’re still my smart cookie,”

“The grade says it all!” He slouched in his seat, “I’m failing everyone,”

You tutted before gently lifting his chin, “You? Never. I know you Damian, and I have no doubt that you’ve tried your very best. Your exams don’t always define you. I’m proud of you nonetheless, and I will never love you any less. If anything, you’ve earned my love even more,”

His face hardened before giving you small defeated smile, relishing in your praises, even if he felt like it wasn’t meant for him at first.

His own birth mother would do the absolute worst to him for doing anything. One single bump and it’s over for him. The consequences were indescribable. Nothing inhumane, per se, just, un-motherly. He presumed you’d do the same too, even after all those months living with you, filled with nothing but peace and support.

Instead, here you were, praising him as if he won the Nobel Prize. His body was stiff ever since the drive with Alfred, although the butler told him time and time again that his results were immaculate.

“Congratulations to my smart boy!” You stood up, “As a present, I’ll make you anything you want for lunch,”

His usual spirit came back before requesting you his ol’ favourite; mozzarella and tomato panini. You thought he’d ask you to make something that’s not on the menu, but hey, what the boy wants, the boy gets!

✧･ﾟ Alfred Pennyworth:

“Soo, cream cake or tiramisu?” You watched Alfred squint his eyes, pondering between the two flavours. Every month, Alfred would come over to help you pick the best menu as seasonal bestsellers.

He must’ve been a psychic in his past life ‘cause whatever choices he made would always sell like hotcakes.

You’ve done this monthly meet-up six months after you and Bruce started dating. You wanted to spend more time with the father-figure, thus, the suggestion came out of the blue.

The first time he asked why him of all people, all you answered was 'there’s no other man of wisdom that I trust more than you’.

He kept that quote like a plaque in his mind.

“I would prefer the cream cake. We’re close to the strawberry season,” Behind him, was your only baker, jotting down Alfred’s points, “It would go well with a cold brew or Darjeeling,”

Your barista scribbled in his book, silently agreeing with the butler.

“Well, you heard him,” Your barista and baker playfully saluted before making a beeline for their stations. “Thank you so much, Alfred. My team and I are thankful to have a professional with us,”

“No, Mistress (L/N), I should be the one thanking you. It’s nice to go out and see the nicer parts of Gotham once in a while,” Alfred laughed — taking care of six children (and probably counting, who knows) and a brooding adult was more than a handful for little ol’ him.

If it wasn’t for that little patience of yours — one that nearly all Gotham locals failed to have, he’s not sure what lies for the future of the Wayne household.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

[offictionandfandoms]

✎﹏﹏ Rumors Pt. 3

Previous

✑ Pairings: Eddie Munson x f!reader

✑ Word Count: 1074

✑ Requested: Yes/No

✑ Warnings: just pure fluff. Also probably not canon Eddie but…it’s too cute for me to care.

✑ Authors Note: This is the end :( I hope you guys like this bit of fluff and the entire mini-series as a whole. Thank you, again, so much for supporting it and loving it as much as you did. I’m still flabbergasted at how many people enjoyed it. Please know my requests are always open for other series/fics! I’ll be working on some other requests I already have in the meantime.

✑ Gif isn’t mine!

“So what are we going to do?”

Eddie speaking had pulled Y/N back to reality, one where they were sitting next to each other in the cafeteria, hands intertwined on the tabletop, and everyone in the world- well, the school at least- being able to see how happy they both were. /Together/, as they were meant to be.

“Hmmm. What do you mean?” Her cheeks flushed pink as she was caught not paying attention, most of her attention being on playing with the rings on her boyfriend's fingers, which now held an additional one she just purchased for him. It had been a month since everything happened, with them breaking up, and it was all going amazing. As amazing as could be expected when you lived in Hawkins, Indiana and there wasn’t shit to do around town. Which was why she were wanting to go on a trip-

“Well someone spent all their savings on ice cream,” Eddie teased, the cute smile she had fallen in love with forming on his face. It stretched from ear to ear and directly to Y/N’s heart.

“Shove it, I was sad,” she laughed, pulling her hands away from his grip. He wasted no time in grabbing them back, pulling them to his lips to place a few little kisses to her skin. Her heart fluttered at the contact and she leaned closer, almost sitting on his lap. But the principal was still watching them closely and getting expelled wasn’t on her to-do list.

“I know, I know. But now we have to plan something else.”

Her head bobbed in agreement as she fell silent, thinking over all their options. Eddie, her sweet and dedicated boy, hadn’t spent a dime of his savings, much to his credit. Not even when the new Metallica album dropped.

“Why don’t you guys just stay here?”

“Henderson, we can’t just stay-” Eddie started to chastise his young best friend, even throwing a peanut in his direction. But Y/N cut him off, squeezing the one hand she still held in between hers.

“Why not?” The look Eddie gave her was incredulous, but she pressed on, a wide grin passing over her features, “Think about it, babe. We have money to spend on our favorite foods, favorite movies, favorite albums. I say we could even host a DND night. We don’t have to go anywhere to have fun, we can do it right here.”

At the mention of DND night, Dustin poked his head back into the conversation, his grin melting Y/N’s heart. He had quickly become like a little brother to her, much to Eddie’s pleasure. “I vote for a DND night, personally.”

“Henderson!” Eddie snapped, though the crinkle by his eyes was enough to tell Y/N that it was out of love. As he turned back to his girlfriend with a warning glare towards his little buddy, Eddie leaned in closer, lowering his voice an octave, probably to avoid another eavesdropper.

She matched him as she leaned in, squinting her eyes playfully at his antics. If she tilted her head just right, their noses would brush up against each other. It was tempting, especially since it would give a great opening to kiss him. But when her eyes flickered over to the teachers table and she saw their good ole principal eyeing them, she withheld.

“We don’t have to do that. We can figure something out. I know you were looking forward to getting out of town.” As he spoke, his thumb gently caressed the inside of her wrist, sending her pulse into a frenzy. His touch never ceased to make her feel like she was on top of the world.

“I’m certain, babe. I was just looking forward to spending time with you— I don’t care where we are. A campaign night sounds perfect if you're okay with that.” As she spoke, his eyes had dropped towards her lips, his tongue sneaking out to run over the skin of his. But the second she stopped, he stared directly into her eyes, a serious composure taking over his expression.

“You know what sounds perfect?” While he was asking her this, she could feel his hands dip away from her arms, moving to slide around her waist instead. She hummed in response, waiting for him to answer his own question while she leaned closer, not wanting to miss whatever he said. She would do anything to make him happy, even if it meant skinny dipping in Lover’s Lake again.

She soon felt her body leaving the hard plastic seat of the cafeteria table and being replaced with the warmth of his lap, “You.” The kiss he gave her was quick, nothing satisfactory for either of them, and she was quickly trying to lean in for another, onlookers be damned.

But the sound of “Ms. Y/L/N! Mr. Munson!” booming across the room had them both falling apart in a fit of loud laughter, loud enough to put Jason’s goons to shame.

Typically, Y/N would never do anything to get in trouble. And if she ever was in trouble, she would take her punishment with a nod and an apology.

But nothing about her relationship with Eddie Munson had been typical thus far and it wasn’t about to start. So she made quick work of grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him behind her as she zig-zagged through students and out into the hallway, the call of their names lost as the cafeteria door swung shut.

They didn’t stop running until they made it to the drama room, both doubling over in laughter until Y/N’s side hurt and she had to sit in Eddie’s DND throne for relief.

Eddie was still laughing as he pointed at her, hand swaying up and down as he motioned over her entire body, “You look good there.”

“Oh, so I’m no longer banished?” She taunted, leaning forward to rest her elbows against the table without a worry in her mind. She knew they would definitely be expelled once they were found, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not right now, not with Eddie leaning on his own elbows to get closer to her, their lips just centimeters apart.

And right before they connected, he whispered words that Y/N would hear ringing in her head for weeks to come: “It’s hard to keep my queen from her rightful throne.”