#so my muses upped the ante

[failmilias]

“If I am glad of one thing,” Elijah comments, looking to @bridgeirton with a small smile, “it is that Penelope’s season is still a few years hence.”

A pause, and then he continues, more sincere.

“If you will permit me, my Lord, I think your efforts to defend your sister’s honor were very noble, though perhaps a bit foolhardy. You are certain you’re not hurt?”

Concerned blue eyes rove over the Viscount before once again meeting his gaze. // starter call!

[yeonban]

                                  𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑫𝑺.

@yuanwang​ asked:  “  do  you  think  i’m  stupid?  ”  shizuku  to  shal!

       ❛   Huh?  Where’d  that  come  from,  Shizuku?   ❜   The  task  at  hand  is  left  unattended  to  as  his  head  turns  almost  instantaneously  towards  his  friend;  her  query  odd  and  mildly  concerning  (  it  wasn’t  like  her  to  ponder  on  questions  like  this,  not  as  far  as  he  had  been  allowed  to  know  up  until  this  point  )  and  thus  Shalnark  attempts  to  make  sense  of  the  root  cause  behind  this  sudden  outburst.

He  hadn’t  said  anything  mean  today,  not  towards  Shizuku,  nor  had  he  poked  fun  or  ignored  her  recently  &  therefore  he  doubts  it  to  be  his  fault.  She  doesn’t  seem  sensitive  enough  to  care  about  a  stranger’s  opinion  either,  whatever  it  might  be  (  and  truth  be  told,  he  half-expects  her  to  forget  any  jabs  mere  minutes  after  they’ve  happened  ),  so  the  perpetrator  ought  to  be,  following  this  line  of  judgement,  one  of  their  fellow  spiders.

But  what  had  caused  it,  exactly?  Had  they  brought  up  something  that  had  happened  and  she  had  forgotten  about,  only  to  dismiss  her  when  she  inquired  further?  Was  it  an  outright  comment,  or  something  else  entirely?  And  what  does  she  want  him  to  say,  with  this  tiny  amount  of  information  to  go  off  on,  if  not  simple  generalities  and  guesses?   ❛   Hm...  I  wouldn’t  say  that  you’re  stupid,  no  one  in  the  troupe  would’ve  lasted  this  long  if  they  were,  but  your  forgetfulness  can  sometimes  get  in  the  way,  which  you  might  not  realize  since  you’ve  already  forgotten  whatever  it  was.  It’s  nothing  major  usually,  though,  so  I  wouldn’t  worry  about  it.  Is  that  why  you’re  asking?  Someone  recalled  something  and  refused  to  elaborate  for  you?   ❜ 

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Alright you know what huevember is timeless and I operate on my own schedule

[shebunie]

HIIIIII! could you do a mizu x reader when reader teases mizu so much that mizu snaps and erm...things get suggestive or just plain smut IDK 🙏🏽

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭

𝗠𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟭𝟴+, 𝗻𝘀𝗳𝘄, 𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁, 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗱𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸, 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹 (𝗿! 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴), 𝗲𝗱𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘀𝗽𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗶 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼 𝗯𝗮𝗱, 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘆𝗲𝘁 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗼𝗳-𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟮.𝟲𝗸 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗛𝗶 <𝟯, 𝗮𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗵𝘂, 𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗶𝘇𝘂, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗽𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝗳𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱! 𝗠𝘆 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝗿𝗺𝗮𝗹 𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗜 𝘀𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗶𝗿𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗳𝗳. 𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗥𝗔𝗬 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗕𝗘𝗦 𝗦𝟮!

"I don’t want company." 

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the tranquil landscape. Mizu, the stoic yet skilled samurai, sat beneath a cherry blossom tree, taking a moment of relaxation from her travels. Her sword rested beside her, reflecting the fading sunlight. However, her solitude was soon interrupted by your arrival.

You, an adventurous and cheeky soul, approached her with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "I couldn't resist the allure of a lone samurai beneath the cherry blossoms," you declared, a playful grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

“What's gotten you so grumpy?” 

Mizu's piercing gaze met yours, her expression unwavering. "I said, I don’t want company," she replied, a hint of irritation in her tone.

Undeterred, you plopped down beside her, ignoring her warning. "Oh, come on, Mizu! Even a samurai needs a break. Plus, it's a crime to waste such a beautiful evening in solitude," you teased, leaning closer to her.

She sighed, realizing that you were not easily deterred. "I value my solitude. It sharpens my focus and keeps me attuned to the world around me," Mizu explained, attempting to maintain her composure.

You chuckled, tracing patterns on the grass with your fingers. "I get that, I do. But even the mighty Mizu needs a break from being a stone-cold warrior sometimes. Don't you ever get tired of all that serious stuff?"

Mizu's stoic facade cracked ever so slightly as she shot you a sideways glance. "I don't get tired. I endure," she retorted.

Your grin widened, clearly enjoying her reactions. "Endure, huh? Well, how about enduring some good company for a change? It might be just what you need."

A subtle tension hung in the air as Mizu's patience wore thin. "I've endured many challenges and adversaries. Dealing with you might be the most formidable one yet," she remarked, a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

A hand to your mouth, feigning shock enveloped your features, “Of course, you seem to be the only one who can handle it anyway.” 

Each remark a playful jab, and each counter a carefully calculated response. The verbal sparring evolved into a dance of wit and charm. Mizu found herself caught in the web of your playful teasing, her steely resolve slowly giving way to the unexpected allure of your company.

As the moon began to rise, casting a silvery glow on the landscape, you decided to up the ante. "You know, Mizu, beneath that tough exterior, I bet there's a samurai with a heart that longs for a little excitement," you mused, a sly grin playing on your lips.

Mizu raised an eyebrow, a mixture of curiosity and defiance in her gaze. "I have no interest in power or money. I have no interest in being happy. Only satisfied." 

“And what if I told you that a bit of someone, might just be the key to satisfaction?”

You leaned in, your voice a soft whisper against the gentle rustling of the cherry blossoms as you lifted a finger to trace along the jaw of the wielder. The strand of her hair followed the breeze, your eyes traced along the bridge of her nose, down to her upturned lips. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Looking at you.” you voiced, Mizu couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of discomfort and curiosity. Your presence, initially an unwelcome intrusion, now presented a challenge that intrigued her. She shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, trying to maintain her composure.

"I prefer to be unseen," Mizu remarked, her tone stern, but a glimmer of uncertainty lingered in her eyes.

You chuckled softly, the mischievous glint in your eyes undiminished. "But you look so pretty like this. Do I make you nervous?”

Mizu, unaccustomed to such flattery, found herself at a loss for words. The air around you two was charged with a newfound tension, a delicate balance between the solitude she sought and the unexpected charm you brought. The cherry blossoms overhead seemed to sway in approval, as if nature itself acknowledged the subtle shift in the atmosphere.

Your soft fingers that lingered on her face, held her chin and gently turned her gaze to you. The moon illuminated the scene, casting shadows that played on your features, giving you an almost ethereal quality.

For a moment, Mizu's stoic exterior wavered. She glanced away, the touch of your finger on her skin tingled, breaking eye contact, and the moonlight revealed a hint of vulnerability. "Empty flattery won't change my resolve," she declared, her voice a mixture of defiance and self-assurance.

But you were undeterred, your playful demeanour persisting. "Who said anything about changing your resolve? I just thought you could use a break from it every now and then," you replied shifting your focus on the sword between you, ever so carefully gliding your fingers along the hilt. 

Mizu's internal struggle played out on her face, a silent battle between the disciplined warrior and the unforeseen allure of your company.

“You look troubled,” the sultry tone of your voice called her out. Mizu let out a sigh, her resistance crumbling like a dam giving way to the persistent flow of water. The tension in her shoulders eased, and she found herself drawn into the magnetic field of your presence. "I am not troubled, I just don't want to be bothered," she insisted, though her gaze betrayed a conflict within.

Your fingers continued to dance along the intricate details of her sword, a silent acknowledgement of the craftsmanship that mirrored the complexities of Mizu herself. A sigh escaped your soft lips, “Then I’ll leave you to it.” Standing from your position, smoothing down your kimono as you turned around to leave the stoic wielder alone with the presence of the moonlit sakura’s

Mizu, unable to fully articulate the conflicting emotions within her, found herself reacting on an impulse she didn't quite understand. Her hand, the same one that had just moments ago wielded a sword with precision and control, now held onto the delicate fabric of your sleeve. Eyes, usually sharp and focused, betrayed a mix of uncertainty and something else—an unspoken acknowledgement of a connection.

You turned to look at her, surprise evident in your eyes. The air crackled with tension as Mizu's gaze held yours, the silent exchange conveying more than words ever could. In that brief moment, the boundaries that she had meticulously built around herself began to blur. She pulled you to sit on her lap.

"I didn't ask for this," Mizu grumbled, attempting to salvage some semblance of control over the situation.

With a playful smirk, you retorted, "Well, you did say you endure, right? Consider this endurance training for, an unexpected guest." Snaking your arms around her neck,  the subtle touch of your fingers on the back of her neck sent shivers down her spine.

Long slender fingers gripped your face, squishing your cheeks and making you form a pout, “This persistent attitude of yours reminds me of someone,” Mizu’s patience ran thin on your teasing, a frown etched on her face while she squinted her eyes.

You couldn't help but laugh at her attempt to regain control, your pout turning into a playful grin. "Oh, really? And who might that be?" you asked, your voice a melodic muffled blend of amusement and curiosity.

“Just like Taigen when we were children,” her grip on your plush face remained, a different glint evident in her cerulean eyes, “A fucking brat.” Pushing you down on the soft grass, as she hovered above you, her weight supported by her strong arms.

The world seemed to slow down as Mizu's unexpected move left you breathless. The scent of cherry blossoms lingered in the air, and the moonlight painted a surreal backdrop for the unfolding moment. The playful banter had given way to a charged atmosphere, and the tension between you two became palpable.

Mizu's gaze bore into yours, a mixture of intensity and a flicker of something more. The fingers that had gripped your face now traced a delicate path down your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The weight of her body pressed against yours, and a primal energy passed between you, unspoken yet undeniable.

“I can be a brat.”

The soft rustling of the leaves overhead seemed to echo the beating of your hearts as Mizu's lips, once firm and resolute, hovered tantalizingly close to yours. Her eyes, usually guarded, now betrayed a vulnerability that mirrored your own.

"Oh, I know you can," Mizu declared, her voice low and commanding, fingers gently traced along the collar of your kimono, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down your spine. 

"You’ll do as I say," she asked, her tone firm. "no defiance, no resistance. just complete submission." Undoing the ties of her makeshift belt with one hand as the other gathered your wrists, slowly and deliberately tying it together, ensuring you're completely at her mercy. 

Mizu can see the anticipation in your eyes, the desire to be dominated and brought to your limits. “Keep those wrists exactly where they are," she commanded, voice leaving no room for negotiation.

"I want to see just how well you can follow orders." She proceeded to explore your body with rough fingertips, caressing and teasing every inch of your exposed skin. 

You closed your legs together, “I don't think I follow orders that well,” feeling every tantalizing touch of the samurai, goosebumps rising from your skin as your breath wavered. 

Looking at the wielders eyes, a mischievous glint danced in her gaze. "Oh, we'll see about that," she purred, her fingers tracing a slow path up your inner thigh. "Resistance can be quite entertaining."

As she leaned in, her warm breath grazed your ear. "Perhaps I'll have to find more creative ways to make you obey," she teased, her fingers lightly dancing along your collarbone. "You won't be closing those legs for long."

“come on my love speak up, what do you want? you want me to fuck you open for all of them to see?" Mizu whispered, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead. She cocked her head to the side, your gaping lips brushing her earlobe as another whine escaped your throat. You whimper, the sudden feeling of her soft lips kissing your body never failing to make you feel crazy.

Mizu’s fingers drift down, fiddling with the hem of your garment before teasing you from the outside. Her boney fingers lightly ran over your underwear, soaking cunt leaking through the fabric.

Whines and begs slipping from your mouth, pleas for her to touch you. But, she stops, looking you dead in the eyes, “what do you want? say it, use your words.” She demands, watching you so closely you could come just from her gaze.

“Please, mizu.. I want you to touch me.” 

Mizu's smirk widened as she leaned in, her fingers tracing a teasing path up your arm. "Well," she purred, "you have to be more specific than that."

Your breath caught in your throat, the anticipation thick in the air. "I want..." you stammered, struggling to form coherent words. Mizu's eyes never left yours, her confidence almost maddening.

"I want your hands on me," you finally managed to express, your voice a mix of need and frustration. Mizu's laughter echoed in the room, low and sultry.

"Such a good start," she whispered, her touch now dancing along your waist. "But you can do better. Tell me exactly where you want me to touch you."

The room seemed to shrink as you gathered your thoughts, desire and embarrassment wrestling within you. "I want your lips on mine," you admitted, your cheeks flushing with a mix of arousal and vulnerability.

Mizu's gaze intensified, a hunger evident in her eyes. "And?" she urged, her fingers lingering on the edge of your anticipation.

"Everywhere," you confessed, feeling the weight of your desire in the pit of your stomach. "I want to feel you everywhere."

Her giggle filled the room again, this time a bit softer. "Now we're getting somewhere," she murmured, closing the gap between you. 

“Here?” you whine at her words, nodding. “Why are you nodding? I said to use your words.” She growled, her brows furrowing.

“I want you to touch my pussy, mizu.” you moaned out, enough to satisfy her.

“On your hands and knees,” Nimble fingers tease and twist your panties until they’re pooling around your ankles. Breath becomes heavier as she starts to kiss a pathway down the length of your back. You give in to her urges; head tipping back as her mouth glides over the plush of your behind. 

Mizu kneels between your legs, sinking her teeth into your ass and moaning in unison with you. Your back arches at the feeling, presenting your cunt for her to feast.

“Pretty girl,” Mizu growls, hands palming your ass, spreading you further apart, “with the prettiest pussy, fuck-”

She delves in. Shiny tongue weaving between webbed folds. She groans, going for a second taste, a longer lick. Mizu slurps at your cunt, the loud, lewd sound causing you to shiver, top half of your body lowering against the tatami floors. The cold sends a jolt through your already perky nipples, and you squirm. 

“Sweeter than sugar,” Mizu licks her lips, eyes memorising the sight of your wet cunt, puffy and pulsing for her -  diving back in, her tongue and lips explore you.

Kissing your puffy clit, causing an erotic moan to leap from your swollen lips. She sucks on your aching clit, flicking the talented tip of her tongue in intricate patterns that have your thighs quivering against her flushing cheeks.

Mizu’s tongue worked its usual magic; sucking, kissing, rolling— your eyes began to water, the feeling of her inside you causing your build-up to come much faster than usual.

Indents of your teeth scatter across your hand and arm after having to bite into yourself to stay quiet. It was the crack of dawn after all. So, you continue to release muffled moans against your skin, eyes squeezing shut in concentration- but fuck  Mizu knows what she’s doing with her tongue.

“Mmhm,” Mizu groans, face smushing into your cunt. Her ego swells with every, jolt of your hips as her tongue catches the perfect spot in each swirl. The way she moved had you crying like a little girl; red-faced and sobbing, begging her to let you cum. “what do you want, again?”

“Please, please mizu, please let me cum. I’ll be good, I promise.”

She’s about to make you cum faster and harder than you ever had in your life. She can sense it in the pulsing of your clit, feel it in the tremble of your legs. God, she wants to beg. 

Feeling you slip over the edge and moaning into you. To catch every essence of your release, she switches to long yet fast licks up and down the length of you;  from your buzzing clit, over your clenching hole.

“Mizu, fuck, oh my-” Your tied hands search for her, finding purchase grasping dark long tresses, “I’m-”

A calloused hand lands on your soft supple skin with a smack. The corner of her lips curls up into a grin when your body jolts, soft whines slipping past your lips.

“We’re done when I say we’re done or has the whore forgotten the endurance training she proposed?” The insult had your tummy flipping and cunt clenching, and of course Mizu noticed.  She took no time slipping her middle finger inside you, your walls sucking her in desperately. 

Leaning over your body, her perky breast mushed against your arching back as her free hand tightly pulled your hair.

“Mizu!” you squeak, clit throbbing, the roughness of her fingers rubbing against the walls of your cunt. “Please—” you whimpered, tear droplets rolling down your cheeks.

“Shut up.” She grunted out, long and slender fingers increasing their pace, pounding that spongy taste of heaven inside you, over and over again.

[hanibalistic]

#6F417E | EARTH-42 MILES MORALES.

genre | fluff, faint angst / reader is gn

synopsis | miles found you fainted in an alleyway one day, except you died two years ago.

word count | 3440

warning | brief mention of injuries / use of spanish phrases translated from the internet :( let me know if i'm wrong about anything! / everything i know about e-42 miles morales is from the movie 

note | not the proudest of my writing here. also, a disclaimer that the events in this fic will deviate from canon haha

parts | one, two, three, four

"Uncle Aaron, I think we forgot to get detergent."

"You forgot to get detergent. I didn't forget nothing."

Miles's shoulders slumped in distaste. His frown mirrored the quiet complaints he spilled out of his mouth as his fingers tugged at the grocery bags dangling on them. He must have been delirious to still forget an item written on a piece of paper and to think the word 'detergent' wasn't even crossed out on the grocery list his mother gave him. It wouldn't be too big of a deal, but he imagined his mother would be mumbling about it as she set the table for dinner. 

The doorknob fumbled a bit before the door swung open. The brightness in your eyes dimmed upon seeing Uncle Aaron's furrowed brows, which reminded you of the cautionary tale he kept retiring about being aware of opening doors to unknown knocks in case of danger. You still had difficulty getting used to a dangerous Brooklyn because yours was bright and sunny, and it had its very own Spiderman. Miles had laughed when you told him about your Brooklyn, asking if there was a ranking for crime fighting bug of the week; Spiderman today, something like Ant-man tomorrow?

“If I’d been a serial killer–“

“Which you are not,” you sang with vague cheerfulness as you tried to take the groceries from his hand. 

“Hence the question being hypothetical–“

“Miles! You’re home!”

“Mi vida.” It was not audible. He opened his arms habitually and let you dive into his embrace. “How’s your day? Did you glitch?” 

You perked up from where you buried your face in his shoulder and examined the bracelet permanently latched around your wrist. Gwen was the one who put the finishing touches on it, and she was so excited about the product that she came over in the middle of the night to hand it to you. It has been about two weeks since you began wearing it, and you have not glitched once. You told Miles it should be safe to conclude that the bracelet worked, but he always asked for good measures anyway. 

“I helped around the house, as always,” you replied. Fixing the bracelet, you felt a soft magnetic pull against the tips of your fingers that touched the metal. You let go of it and rested your chin on Miles’s shoulder, sighing in contentment at the mere solidity of his body. “I didn’t glitch.”

Knowing that he was not being paid attention to, Aaron decided against scolding you for cutting him off twice. Instead, he rolled his eyes and turned to the kitchen, where Rio was shifting through a stack of sealed envelopes. He placed the groceries on the square table in the middle of the kitchen and smacked his teeth, looking pointedly at Rio as he nudged his head toward the apartment door.

Rio didn’t have to look to know you two were stuck in each other’s arms by the door. She smiled, shifting through the letters carefully with a shake of her head. “He is happy, Aaron.”

“Happy enough to cut me off my sentence,” he scoffed before adding, “twice.”

“I’m sure they will apologize if you say something,” she mused. “Especially [Name]. They’re a good kid.”

Aaron’s eye twitched in dismay. Rio was right—you were a good kid. He couldn’t hate you enough to delude himself into believing otherwise, and of course, he didn’t actually hate you. Besides the apparent naivety he suspected came from living in a safe Brooklyn, nothing about you was blatantly dislikable. You were helpful, albeit not the brightest learner. You listened well, which could be a product of being in another’s hospitality. And, most importantly, you were Miles’s safe place. For the first time in years, Aaron could see his nephew find time to be the teenager he was supposed to be. You practically breathed life into him, which worried Aaron the most.

You were a second chance that Miles was unwilling to let go of, but whether you return to your Earth was not his decision. What would happen to him when you leave? You would destroy him. 

“I got the groceries, Mrs. Morales!”

Rio dropped the envelope in her hand and smiled upon your arrival. "Mi amorcito!" 

You tilted your head with a thoughtful grin after you put the grocery bag next to all the things Uncle Aaron had taken out of the one he was holding. When Rio flashed you a questioning look, you shrugged. "Miles called me that before. I didn't know what it meant."

A choked-out cough sounded from behind all three of you, and standing by the kitchen sink was Miles, gripping the edge of the sink and coughing out the water that ran down the wrong pipe. Rio covered her teasing smile with a hand, but her shoulder moved to the gentle beats of her lighthearted chuckles. Aaron stared at his panicking nephew, a tinge of judgemental pity laced in his eyes. 

Slamming his fist to his chest, Miles swung around to glare between the three of you before his eyes landed on your curious face. “What are you talkin’ about?”

"When did he say that to you?" Rio asked. 

You rolled your eyes skyward. If you remember correctly, it was during the first few glitch attacks when you would break down from the sheer pressure of it. He had encouraged you to sleep with him on those nights, and you gladly accepted the offer. It was during one of those tearful nights, you believed. He had whispered it when he thought you were asleep, with teary hiccups still occupying your body's consciousness, and you remembered he had been stroking your hair to lull you to sleep. Everything about him was tender during those nights—his touch, voice, and presence. Unbeknownst to you, its cause was that he physically could not muster any energy when you suffered. 

"He must have thought I was sleeping," you said, then you looked sheepishly at Miles, who returned it with a sneer. “I wasn’t asleep yet.”

“Clearly,” he muttered. 

"I didn't take you for someone who would sneak into people's rooms when they're sleeping?" Aaron chimed in. 

“I didn’t!” Miles groaned in embarrassment. “They cry like hell whenever they glitch. What was I supposed to do?”

“I did cry like hell when I glitched,” you said in agreement as you turned around from the kitchen cabinet where you were stocking the cleaning supplies. “I was the one who looked for him, actually. I couldn’t fall asleep alone. The glitching was terrible.”

Aaron’s eyes darted between you both. Miles reached out for you, his arm moved boldly, but the tip of his finger that touched your shoulder to get your attention was timid and boyish. He exhaled when you smiled at him, and the faintest smirk only you could discern to be a curve of contentment grew on his face as you walked near him. You scrunched your nose into a tight-lipped smile when he muttered something only you could hear, likely giving an unnecessary explanation for his comment on you crying like hell. 

The rate you two could engage in your own world was almost admirable if Aaron wasn’t so cautious of Miles’s growing feelings for you. But watching as you two helped each other stock the kitchen cabinets, shoulders brushing and shoving playfully, he knew he couldn't do anything. 

"We forgot to get detergent."

Rio gasped. She glanced at the washing machine filled with dirty clothes waiting to be cleaned, one of which included her work uniform, and she sighed. She would have to wear the one she did on her last shift. “I guess I’ll make a run to the store after my shift ends,” she mumbled with a thoughtful hum. “Or I can do it later on the way to the bank. I needed to deposit something.”

“The bank closes at six,” Aaron said questioningly.

“They have a drop-off box that opens through the night. It’s super convenient,” she clarified with a finger snap. “I’ll just stop by briefly before my shift starts. I might forget tomorrow.”

“Your shift starts at twelve, right?”

“Yeah,” Rio nodded, “overnight.”

“You gonna eat dinner with us?”

“I will,” she nudged her head toward where you and Miles were bickering about the washed dishes, “if those two would step away from the stove so I can cook something!”

The two of you froze up at Rio’s demanding tone. Quickly organizing the knickknacks on the dish rack next to the stove, not forgetting to scoff at each other about storing the utensils, Miles ushered you out of the kitchen with his hands clamped over your shoulders. Uncle Aaron watched your backs disappear into Miles’s room, and he saw your ridiculous faces trying to hold back from laughing at what he could only assume was an inside joke, as nothing was amusing about this situation. He gulped—he couldn’t do anything about Miles’s feelings for you.

The only thing more dangerous than a teenage boy in love is the person he is in love with. Taking you out of the picture would do nothing but bring Miles out of the canvas with you, leaving two vacant spots once close together. If you left, you would destroy him, but more importantly, he wouldn't hesitate to follow you everywhere. If you jumped the universe, he would jump the universe. If you got stranded in purgatory, he would strand himself in limbo. If you went to Hell, he would go to Hell because, at some point, it stopped being a biblical state of eternal torture. At some point, Hell is not a place; Hell is just where you are. And Miles would follow you there, always. 

You jolted up with the television screen flashing at your face. Even in your sleep, your body subconsciously remembered there was something you need to do. Before Rio left for her shift, which was just a little after Miles and Uncle Aaron left for the occasional hangout, she gave you a sealed envelope to deposit into the bank mailbox because you insisted that you were going to head outside for a short walk of fresh air anyway, so you might as well help you with this tiny task. Except you fell asleep on the couch after getting ready and woke up at one o’clock in the morning.

Scanning the quiet apartment, it was easy to tell nobody had returned home yet. Rio wouldn’t be home until early in the morning; Miles tended to get home around two to three o’clock when he was off with Uncle Aaron doing who knows what. Leaning your head against the couch cushion, you drew a mental map of the path to the bank before closing your eyes. If you jogged, a round trip would take you roughly fifteen to twenty minutes. Not a problem! 

Sliding off the couch, you reached into your crossbody bag that was big enough for a phone to feel for the envelope Rio gave you. It was still in there. You zipped the bag and patted it twice for safety, then fixed your jacket sleeves in preparation for the chilling night breeze. Turning off the television and the living room lights as the last step, you grabbed the house key lying in a bowl with some loose change and left the apartment. 

Keeping up a light jog was easy under this cold weather and the dark streets. You liked walking at night, but you were never outside this late. There were no cars or people, much unlike the bustling morning you preferred much more. Uncle Aaron’s cautionary tale repeated in your head and increased your speed through the empty pedestrian road. The more you stayed outdoors, the more you thought it a bad idea to be outside at this dead time. 

“What? What is–what?” you muttered as you moved your body about. 

Glaring at you was the metal deposit box enclosed in the bank walls. It took you a hot minute to find it because it was behind a wall off the side of the building where the ATMs were. You thought it was a terrible design choice only because you couldn’t find it immediately; it would not have been if you managed to. The second hurdle came when you realized the handle to the mailbox wouldn’t budge. 

“How do you open this?” you laughed as you gave the handle another pull. When the metal texture began hurting your skin, you let go to loosen your jacket sleeve until it reached your palm so you could use the thick fabric as a shield. This time, you put a leg up on the wall to use it as leverage. You pulled again. Nothing happened. Huffing in dissatisfaction, you pointed at the mailbox as if it could understand you. “You’re really–mhm!”

The swift kick to the wall could be heard. Miles perked up to where the soft rummaging noise came from and squinted his eyes behind the prowler mask. He scanned the area carefully, looking for any signs of people to find none. He remained tense even as he dropped the matter—gritted teeth and clenched jaw over a bank heist only a few days in planning. He has done this many times before. Maybe not robbing a bank specifically, but criminal activities were no longer a stranger to him as they were. He would even say he enjoyed it; he liked being strong, and it was a source of easy money. However, the main reason why he turned to a life of crime was to distract himself from the death of his father and you. Now that you were here to repaint a corner of his world with colors again, being a prowler was losing its appeal. 

"Miles."

He snapped out of his trance at his uncle's impatient voice screeching through the earpiece, and cleared his throat. "Sorry. What's up?"

"What's up?" His uncle sounded incredulous. "Are the bombs set up?"

"Oh–uh, yeah." He peeked out from behind the bush to check out the blinking red light he set up at the foot of the gate. "They're all set up."

"And you? You got your head in the clouds just then.”

“I’m fine, Uncle Aaron,” Miles clarified with the kind of grit that would have gotten him in trouble usually. He took a deep breath. “Let’s detonate them so we can move on from here.”

The other end shuffled and scratched; its noise muffled the careless footsteps behind the ATM wall.

“Detonation in three….”

You pouted when you shoved the envelope in your bag, still mumbling about not finding an opening to the night deposit box. It was a good enough reason to give Rio tomorrow when she returned home from the hospital; that metal handle would not budge!

“Two…”

Miles perked up at the familiar figure trailing slowly by the bank entrance where he set a bomb device. His ears did not deceive him when he thought he heard footsteps somewhere, and neither was Uncle Aaron wrong about his head being in the clouds! Nobody should be out to the bank at this forsaken time, but his surprising lack of attention made him miss the slow walker—he tilted his head—a slow walker wearing a jacket he remembered he also owned.

You blew raspberries as you patted your bag twice for safety measures. When you looked up, you met eyes with a figure in a purple suit. His stance seemed agitated, and Miles was. He cursed under his breath when he recognized your face, his legs already bringing him out from hiding. What were you doing here? You should be at home!

“One.”

“Uncle Aaron, no!”

The ground shook under your feet, but what made you lose your balance was the impact of the sudden explosions that came in three—bang, bang, bang! The bank building was collapsing, or perhaps it was only in the process of being destroyed? You didn’t get a chance to see clearly. You could hear the alarm bells, though. It wasn’t the wailing kind; it was the kind that rang non-stop. 

Meeting with the ground was not an extraordinary experience for you, but it felt worse than being pushed in this case. Face planting on marble tiles was mentally more endurable than outdoor brick floors. At least you thought that way for now. A groan left your lips as your brain was overloaded with sensations; you absorbed too much, from the alarm noises to the growing pains at the bottom of your body. You groggily looked to where it came from and saw glass shards sticking to your legs through the fabric of the pants. Great. Turning away from them, you noticed your bracelet scratching up tiny sparks, and you couldn’t bring yourself to wonder if you’d broken it.

“Oh no–shit! No, no, no, ¿por qué estás aquí?” Miles unmasked himself, showing his anxiously darting eyes. His hands hovered over your body indecisively, but he felt his fingers inching toward your face where blood trickled down the side of your skin. Miles needed to look through your hair for the source. Curling his arm under your neck, he lifted you to his chest. “Oh no, oh no. Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento–no quise hacerlo.“

You stirred upon his voice phasing in and out of your muffled hearing. Even with the migraine, you could recognize his voice. He was spilling words you didn’t understand, but some of the vocabulary you knew he had said to you before. Mi cariño, mi corazon…mi vida—he whispered that to you today when he came home from school. He probably didn’t think you heard, but you did. You exhaled, then an exhausted whimper pushed itself out of your mouth when the breathing hurt your throat.

He quickly regained his composure upon seeing a sign of life, immediately hooking his arms under your knees, pulling you to his chest, and leaping away from the falling debris. The sight of you bleeding and injured was all too familiar to him. But instead of letting the flashbacks stop him in his tracks, he planned to do something he couldn’t last time—saving you or at least trying to save you.

Returning to where he was hiding, away from the burning building, Miles scanned his surroundings. “Uncle Aaron! Uncle Aaron, help!”

“Miles!” Aaron emerged from the shadows. “We have to go now, we don’t have time–“ he stopped at the sight of you in Miles’s arms–“what happened?”

“They were here–I don’t know why! They’re not supposed to be out here at this time!” 

You remembered how he carried you, which seemed to always be bridal style. It wasn’t as if he did it all the time, though. His hand on your back felt much weirder, too, like he was digging claws into your skin to keep you in his arms. If your senses had gathered better, you would have teased him with the hope that he hadn't gotten tired of you joking about his feelings for you. Licking your dry lips, you rolled your head to meet his chest. It heaved with each word he hollered beyond the fire, the alarm bells, and the disagreement coming from his uncle. They were arguing about where to go. Miles clutched your body closer to him every now and then. He was hell-bent on bringing you to seek medical treatment, and his uncle was not.

“Gwen is waiting!”

“She would want me to help [Name]!”

“We triggered the alarms, so law enforcement will gather here!” Aaron argued. “The police can bring them to the hospital just fine! We need to stick to our plan!”

“[Name] is dead on record. We can’t just bring them to the hospital!” Miles said. “I’m taking them directly to mom.”

A foolish boy. “You’re gonna throw away everything we built.” It was more than just doing crimes, it seemed. There was a bond, a mutual trust built in the process that was on the verge of collapsing. “For that.”

Miles widened his eyes in disbelief. He had his doubts about the way his uncle felt about your existence. Still, he held out hope that the aloofness resulted from the great unknown of the multiverse and Aaron’s personality rather than that he thought your presence was a nuisance. Supposed he was wrong. The casual dehumanization was all he needed to decide how to proceed. Miles hopped a few steps back, his brows furrowing and his grip on your firm. 

“Tell Gwen I’m sorry.”

Aaron clicked his tongue. “Tell her yourself.”

[sinister-things]

Yandere ROTTMNT Headcanons

NOTE: I do not support this behavior in real life. This post is made for entertainment purposes ONLY. Everything in this post(and beyond) should always stay fictional. Please seek professional help if you or a loved one are experiencing any of these behaviors.

This post was inspired by @pianocat939 's headcanons

Also ⚠️TW⚠️: Mentions of stalking, murder, kidnapping, manipulation, and body restraints

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

Raph

Dependent + Protective

Everytime you visit the lair, he's dragging you to the training room to show you the newest move he learned

He just gets so much comfort when you're around! He feels so warm and safe!

But, overtime, he becomes dependent on your attention. He secretly follows you places without you knowing

Treats you like glass. Is super afraid to hurt you

Which results in babying you to the extreme. Basically deludes himself into believing you can't do anything by yourself

If he needs to go anywhere(like patrol or something) he has one of his brother's watch you

If you ever escape, he's sent into a rampage that not even his brother's can tame

"Hun, where are you? You're freakin' me out!"

Overall, he's very suffocating, but he means well... if locking you away in the sewers is your definition of well

Leo

Manipulative + Dependent

Master of mind games

He won't admit it, but he feels useless

So, to make himself feel better, he makes himself useful... by making you feel helpless

The reason he manipulates is because he want's you to see him as your knight in shining armor

Anything could trigger an obsession. Likely some kind of heart-to-heart interaction

If you're someone who isn't manipulated easily, he will up the ante

I imagine he'd snap if he found out one of your friends had a thing for you

He's 100% killing your friend

Then he's coming to your house to whisk you away

Don't bother trying to hide. He'll find you

"There you are, princess! Don't cry– your knight is here!"

You're his little darling, all vulnerable without him guiding you

Donnie

Obsessive + Controlling

Poor Othello Von Ryan felt that his inventions weren't enough for his family(but he would never admit that)

You asked about one of his inventions and he immediately became an excited little boy on christmas morning

Praise him. Tell him he did a good job. He's weak at the knees

Finally, someone sees his genius!

He rarely shows emotion. But when he's alone, a dark voice drives him mad with horrible thoughts

You're just so precious! You mean the world to him!

Tends to stare. He likes to admire you but would never make eye contact

However, if you resist him, he won't hesitate to punish you

However, he's smart and thinks about aforementioned punishment. He wants to find the best way to break you

He's knows what he's doing is illegal and you don't like it, but he doesn't care

Get's jealous very easily

Either he'll kill those... pests or his tech will

"I don't express my feelings very much, but I love you dearly. You're just too paranoid to see that right now."

Mikey

Delusional + Worshipper

Mikey develops an obsession quite rapidly

You're an angel to him! A goddess even!

Mikey believes that you can do no wrong and that nothing is ever your fault

He memorizes your routine and likes to sit outside your window at night

You just look adorable! So peaceful!

He considers you his "muse"

Pictures of you fill his sketch book and line the walls of his room

He believes that you love him just as much as he loves you

You visit the lair and greet him first? Oh, you little flirt!

You hug him a few seconds longer than you did Leo or Raph? You're dying to touch him as much he does with you!

He believes he is the best choice for you and that no one is worthy of your presence

But, if you try and resist him, he'll just tie you up in his kusari-fundo and cuddle you

Drugs your food if he gets that upset. Only sleeping pills, it's the only thing he has access to

He treats you like you solved world hunger

Oh no, your friend was murdered? How terrible!

You wouldn't blame him, would you?

"You're so pretty, like a goddess!"

[luvring]

Your touchstarved writings are giving me life and sustaining me until the full game comes out and while I’m dealing with real life touchstarving. What would you think of the love interests (preferably Vere, Mhin, and Ais) with a chubby reader (preferably fem, if that’s okay, but if not I understand!!)? Just general headcanons for that, and maybe some stuff about comforting the reader who’s been insulted or is just dealing with general self hatred, both sfw and nsfw? In addition to feeling touchstarved while I’m away from home, I’ve been feeling the mean fatphobic voice in my head 🫠🫠🫠

Good luck with exams!! My finals are gonna kill me lol

VERE, AIS, MHIN WITH A CHUBBY FEM READER

minors dni | fem!chubby reader - fem terms + clothes, gn!body description, ais lifting you + sitting on his lap, penetrative sex (reader receiving, not for mhin). ** marks the start of suggestive/nsft (there isn't too many! ^^;)

ouh... I'M HONOURED TO!! 🥹i hope ur doing a little better since sending this in.. let me know how ur finals have gone if u'd like! i will write u a little something (again! LOL) love u & so do they friend 🫂

VERE

vere drawing you when you're feeling insecure 🥹 whatever you're feeling insecure about, he's drawn it the way he sees it—beautiful!! you mid-laugh, you sitting pretty on the steps you've grown accustomed to visiting, you looking hot at the bar or lying in bed,, anything and everything! he could make a collection and would do so happily. you're his best muse

finds you the prettiest expensive lingerie ever—something exactly to your taste!! he looks you up and down, soo cocky (and in love) because it fits you so perfectly. vere might suggest/get more revealing clothes for you, and you're not obligated to wear them, but he'll be happy to see you try! :3 he always works with the mindset that If you're hot you're hot—and you shouldn't 'fit the clothes,' the clothes can and should fit you.

will drape himself across your thighs with a sigh after work. he buries his face against you, hands mindlessly rubbing your waist, while you play with his hair in return

god forbid anyone try to insult you—they should really know better, especially with vere around. he doesn't care who he has to fuck up, he will fuck them up then come straight back to you, asking if you've ordered a drink for yourself already.

he's not always...soft? when it comes to his reassurances. but his sincerity makes up for his bluntness! you ask if he finds you pretty and he's like ? Do you really think i'm the type to lie about that. he's called someone a baby's shit stain to their face. and if anyone thinks anything about you is 'ugly,' they obviously have the mind of an ant and aren't worth your time.

** when you're feeling bad, he can be a lot more gentle and kisses you everywhere. your face, neck, shoulders and down your arms, your chest and stomach, etc., lingering on spots you're most insecure. i think he likes stretch marks especially!!

handsy... the second you dress up, confident and asking what he thinks, his hands are on your hips because 'he has to get close for a better look' or whatever excuse he comes up with to kiss you

vere loves biting and leaving hickeys all over you, especially on your inner thighs. he'll make sure you're looking at him while he kisses then nips your skin.

he murmurs a "you're pretty," or something like it, and you shift but don't respond. so he stops moving and makes you look at him so he can repeat it. his eyes flicker down to your lips then back up while he asks/tells you to believe him

vere is solely focused on you and making sure you feel good, physically And about your body. he rewards you every time you say something you like about yourself! and he agrees while he moves his fingers how he knows you like it, or while he thrusts deeper. type of guy to stop mid-sentence to tell you to stop muffling your moans before going back to praising you

AIS

lazy cuddles!! the amount of times he'll fall asleep on your stomach or thighs... yeah. he won't apologize either. LOL you have to pee and he's grunting holding onto you like bro if you don't let go rn.

ais loves your thighs. a normal amount, he tells you, but if you wear thigh highs it's over for him. if you let him sit with his head between your thighs?? he's not moving. you're not moving. he's so comfortable, you can't take that away from him, can you?

he whistles when you try on a new outfit. doesn't matter what it is—high, mid, low rise jeans, a crop top, a skirt, a dress—he's whistling. you roll your eyes like Seriously? but can you blame him!

in the most Normal Loving way possible, ais is always watching you. he notices if you feel uncomfortable and is quick to reassure you that "you look gorgeous by the way,"—his hand comes to rest on your hip while he plants a kiss to your temple—"happy everyone gets to know i'm yours tonight?" and when your face heats up and you try to look away, he only grins and pulls you closer

ais is beating anyone's ass who looks at you wrong. you don't even notice them because he's dealt with them too quickly, and he just wants to have a good night out with you! he might shower you with more compliments and shitty pick-up lines too

if you're upset and crying, he's quick to act. his voice is low while he tells you it's alright, and his hands are calloused but warm as he wipes away your tears. i think he gives really nice hugs too. he holds you close, your head against his chest while you're curled up in bed as he rubs your back :')

bro is obsessed with patting his thighs and coaxing you to sit on his lap. he also makes a point to lift you if you tell him you're scared he can't. you seriously don't think he can lift you to sit on the counter? carry you to bed? you wound him!

ais likes to hold your hips or thighs and give them a gentle squeeze. just in general really, but especially while making out (in this case it's more of a grip.) also your ass. lmfao you don't notice his hands trailing lower until he's squeezing it

**he also likes mumbling against your lips and skin as he trails kisses down your neck— "this dress looks good," "stop trying to hide from me, you look pretty," all the while he's undressing you and sneaking his hand into your underwear

will fuck you in front of a mirror. his breath is warm against your ear as he tells you to look at how pretty you are, to agree out loud that you're pretty, if you want him to pick up the pace. you can whine his name all you want, but he'll wait as long as he needs to.

"c'mon princess, let me see your face," when you try to cover it with your hands. because of course he wants to see your reaction, but more importantly, he wants you to see him, to watch him worship you like you're meant to be

MHIN

mhin loves resting their head on your chest so they can hear your heartbeat, arm wrapped around your stomach. they don't know how to tell you that they like when you wrap your arms around them, so they settle for silently nuzzling closer and tightening their own hold.

hug them! i'm so serious,, they like your weight against them and how you throw yourself into the hug. no matter how hard you run at them, they'll always keep their footing and hug back

mhin gets flustered if your shirt lifts and they can see a little of your stomach like,, oh. oh! they won't really say anything if it's just you stretching or you're alone, but they just find you so attractive it's. ohmygoddd... similar response if you wear something shorter so they can see more of your thighs..

if you're unsure about an outfit because you don't think it fits you, they shoot you a soft smile in the mirror and says "you look nice." i knowww i know that sounds kind of boring, but imagine the affection in their gaze and soft tone and the way they keep looking while you continue to get ready. and then they point out something specific they really like too ^^

mhin doing a double take when you put on that dress you've been scared to wear out and smiling :'3 they do a lighthearted "i told you so" and will keep glancing at you for the rest of the day

subconsciously starts frowning/glaring when you tell them you were insulted because of your weight/appearance. you look up and they're like >:( >:/ (you know it isn't directed toward you, but they snap out of it and apologize for not realizing anyway.) will they be sending death glares if they ever see those people? maybe make sure they trip or spill something onto their clean, new outfit? who's to say! (probably!)

and mhin gets that fear of intimacy, of being vulnerable with somebody. if it's hard for you to talk about, they'll sit with you as long as you need. even if they're angry at the thought of people mocking you, they know you're who's important right now and try to stay focused.

mhin undressing and letting you look at them before quietly talking about their own insecurities :-( and when you reassure them that they look good, and that you love all of them, they give you a look like. thank you—i know you know the same goes for you

** they might struggle to get their words out, but their hold on your hips is comforting as they kiss your stretch marks or rest their head against your stomach. they notice when you try to hide away and reach to hold your hands instead, murmuring "don't," before continuing lower

it's all just very intimate and soft!! you try to touch them in return and they shake their head and hold your wrists away. after a while, they don't bother stopping you but start,, rambling? about how beautiful they think you are. how they love seeing you and how good you make them feel, and how good they want to make you feel. they don't filter their thoughts and only double down when you say their name

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 11

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: making out to the point of hickeys and low level states of undress (don't read if you're not particularly comfortable with it, it's pretty early on and you don't really need it for the rest to make sense 👍), swearing, reader's mother (Emma) is a gem and loves teasing them, lockwood's hands (and ring), I have no idea what came over me to make me write this (I was probably thinking about his hands let's be real)

series masterlist

“I just don’t understand how they never gave themselves away,” Y/n said while she and Anthony got ready for bed. 

He was in the bathroom, so she’d had to raise her voice a little in order to be heard. When he didn’t respond immediately, she frowned at the closed door. “Anthony? You alright?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’m alright, darling.” She heard shuffling and then the click of the door as it opened, and he stepped out, dressed in his pyjamas. 

“Still can’t believe you have matching sets of grandpa pyjamas,” she snorted, moving over to the bathroom. 

“You love my matching sets of grandpa pyjamas,” he called as she started brushing her teeth. “And as for how they never gave themselves away, I imagine they were all waiting for the moment they could finally breathe again. Your mother especially, did you see how tightly she hugged me earlier? I thought she might crush my ribs.”

“You’re so dramatic, Ant,” Y/n replied after spitting out the toothpaste. She washed her mouth out, flicked the light off in the bathroom, and headed for the bed. Anthony was already sat on his side, the covers pulled back for her to get in, and she curled up next to him. His arm automatically came around her body, fingers burying in the fabric of her (his) top. 

“You love that too,” he said, pressing a kiss to her head. She hummed, burying her face in his chest and swinging her legs over his. The afternoon had been peaceful after Steph and Linda had finally left (although not without a lot of pointing fingers, empty threats, and slammed doors), with Y/n’s family asking questions about their relationship and wanting the real answers this time, and her father had received a call saying that the roads would be clear in the next day or so, and there was a limited train service starting up not too long after that. The storm had blown over faster than people had anticipated, but with the limited technology they had for weather readings, anybody’s guess could be the official report. They had booked tickets on the first train back in four days time, and Y/n knew that both her and Anthony were looking forward to getting back to Portland Row. 

“You know,” she started, feeling her eyes start to close when he started threading his fingers through her hair. His other hand was on her thigh, just above her knee. “We should probably think about what we’re gonna do when we get back. About the whole ‘we don’t hate each other now and we’re actually dating’ thing.”

“Oh, that’s a good point. Maybe we just… don’t say anything, like your family? And see how long it takes for them to bring it up?”

“Ant, why would we do that?”

“Because it’s funny?” It was a rhetorical question, and she could feel him smiling from the way his jaw shifted over her head. His fingers hadn’t left her hair, and the hand on her thigh had edged upwards slightly while they’d been talking. 

“I suppose it would be quite funny, wouldn’t it?” she mused, nudging her leg further into his grip subconsciously. He hadn’t taken off the ring he always wore, and it was cold against her skin. 

“See, I’m winning you over,” he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“You missed,” she murmured, sitting up a little and opening her eyes. 

“Missed?”

“Yeah.” She took his face in her hands, nudging her nose against his before kissing him. When she pulled back after a few seconds he automatically followed her, eyes still closed while he searched for her lips again. “Anthony,” she breathed, feeling his breath fan over her face. He surged forward, his grip on her thigh tightening a little while the hand that had been in her hair slid down and cupped her cheek as he kissed her.   She brought her hand to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his pyjama shirt and gasping when he deepened the kiss, and she thought she might pass out from how gentle yet desperate he was. She could feel it, how he was holding back and taking it slow, but the fire that burned in her needed more, making her shift in his lap so she was straddling his hips, and if she could take the sound he made when she did so and bottle it up to keep forever, she would. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered between kisses, tilting his head slightly to press his mouth to her cheek, and then her jaw, and then her neck. 

“I hope not,” she replied, burying her hands in his hair when he kissed a spot on her neck that made her feel like she was in heaven. “I quite like having you around, actually.”

“Yeah?” He made his way back up her neck, his hand hot and searing where it sat on her thigh. She met his eyes, the half-closed lids and blown pupils combined with his swollen lips making the fire burn hotter, and kissed him sweetly. 

“Yeah.” His hair was a mess, but he’d never looked more beautiful than in this moment, the golden glow of the bedside lamp highlighting his features and casting long shadows at the same time, and she threaded her fingers through the mop of hair that was starting to stick to his forehead. “Just promise me something?”

“Anything,” he said, not waiting for her to finish. She thought she could live on the way he was looking at her, like she was the only thing he had ever wanted and he needed her to breathe. 

“Stay alive for me? When we get back? You can’t keep- you can’t keep being so reckless with your- your life. Anthony.” He’d trailed the hand that had rested on her cheek down her side, and had gripped her hips with both hands, his fingers curling into the fabric of the shirt she was wearing and bunching it up slightly. 

“Sorry, darling.” She supposed she could forgive him when his voice was so low and hoarse, and his fingers were creeping under the top to stroke her skin. “I promise I’ll live for you.” The next kiss burned, filled with the weight of what he’d just sworn, and it was only when they couldn’t hold their breath for any longer that they finally pulled away for air. “I promise,” he whispered into her skin, dragging her closer by his grip on her waist. “I promise.” His hand was drifting upwards slowly, the cold metal of his ring a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies, and she knew he was waiting for her to tell him it was alright. His lips had barely left hers, and when she took her hands out of his hair to start undoing the buttons on his shirt she felt his breath hitch. 

“This okay?” she asked, smiling when he nodded eagerly, leaning back in for another kiss. He was drunk on her, she was sure, but she wasn’t exactly sober herself. Eventually he decided she was moving too slowly, taking the bottom of his top into his own hands and doing it himself. The next few minutes were frantic, Anthony’s shirt discarded on the floor by the bed and hers on the way to joining it, hands travelling over skin in an attempt to know every inch of each other. When he lifted her up and laid her on her back, settling between her legs while he braced himself on one arm and held her with the other, she knew she was doomed. 

~~~

The next morning, Emma was on tea duty. 

She and Ben took turns making teas for the family in the morning, and as she traipsed upstairs with a full tray of mugs (after depositing two in her parents’ bedroom downstairs) she yawned, hoping that everyone was at least a little bit awake so that she could go back to bed and read her book. John was first, bleary-eyed and scratching his side like a monkey, and he took his tea with a very sleepy “Mornin’ Mum”, the door closing in her face as soon as he had a grip on the handle of the mug. Then was Sam and Will, who were being made to share, and as she had expected Will was the opposite of John, wide awake and already dressed, reading in bed with the small lamp on so that he didn’t wake Sam. “Thanks, Mum,” he’d smiled, planting a kiss on her cheek and kicking the door shut after taking his and Sam’s teas. Tom was in the library with his colouring (she had to stop and put down the plastic mat so that he didn’t accidentally colour the furniture), and he barely acknowledged her presence when she left the mug on the table nearby and told him to be careful. Olivia wasn’t awake, so Emma left the mug on her bedside table and pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead before creeping back out and moving on to the last room before her own. 

A soft knock was normally enough to alert Y/n, telling her that the teas were ready, but when after roughly thirty seconds nobody appeared at the door, Emma frowned, balanced the tray on her hip, and gently pushed open the door. “Oh,” she whispered to herself upon seeing her eldest daughter and Anthony curled up in bed together, both sound asleep. 

She’d figured that the two of them weren’t actually dating after they’d first arrived, although at the time she’d thought it was more that they were in a rough patch and were attempting to hide it. They’d argued over who was taking the suitcase in, for crying out loud! But then Anthony had gone and comforted her after Steph had made comments that forced Y/n upstairs, and Emma had been confused again. When Olivia had been helping her get dinner ready that first night, she’d put forward the idea that maybe they weren’t together, and Y/n just felt that she couldn’t turn up without a boyfriend to a huge gathering where everybody thought she was in a relationship. Then things had started making sense, like the way Y/n had looked stiff in his arms for the first few days, or how she would glare at Anthony instead of gazing lovingly at him like Emma knew she herself did with Ben. 

At some point something had changed, though, because now they were apparently actually together. She, along with everyone else, had spent the afternoon yesterday questioning the young couple on pretty much everything, including why the hell they hated each other in the first place. Anthony had gone bright red, apologising profusely for his behaviour, and then Y/n had interrupted and said that she should be the one apologising, and then the pair of them had traded such love-struck looks that it made even Emma want to throw up a little. She was planning on getting the photo albums out today, since she had been so scared of revealing that she knew the truth before that she hadn’t fully settled in to the role of Embarrassing Mother. She’d wanted Y/n to feel that she could come forward in her own time, and the situation was sticky enough as it was with Steph and Linda (she frowned at the memory of how poorly her sister and niece had acted) making comments and embarrassing Y/n that Emma had taken a step back. Now, however, there was no hiding. Anthony would be seeing all of the photos of Y/n as a baby, and that was that. 

She would have a field day at breakfast, too, if her assumptions were correct. 

From what she could tell as she put the cups of tea on the bedside table and had a quick look around the room, neither Anthony nor Y/n were wearing tops, and in the dim light of the room she could tell that there were definitely marks on both of their necks. She smiled to herself, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s shoulder, and tiptoed out of the room. 

~~~

When Anthony woke up, the first thing he thought was how comfortable he was. 

He opened his eyes, rubbing lazily to try and clear away the last remnants of sleep, and he realised that Y/n was lying with her back to him and he had wrapped an arm around her waist in an effort to meld their bodies into one. Their legs were tangled together under the duvet, his pyjama-clad ones mixed with her short-wearing ones, and it was no wonder he hadn’t been able to breath too well when he’d first woken up, because his face had been buried in her neck. 

Her neck. 

His eyes widened as he took in the state of her skin, littered in small marks (and one or two larger ones), and he knew that he would most likely be murdered when she woke up. He couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the memory of last night, though, and all the kisses they had shared. They hadn’t gone much further than that, both deciding it was far too early and far too risky in a house that was shared by most of her immediate family, but Anthony could have died a happy man after that. 

He wouldn’t, of course, because he’d promised her last night that he would live. 

He took note then of the two mugs of steaming tea on the bedside table, and realised that someone must have come in and placed them there not too long ago. Then he realised that whoever it had been had probably seen the hickeys on Y/n’s neck. “Shit,” he mumbled, closing his eyes briefly in an attempt to gather strength. It would be fine. Maybe they hadn’t been able to see clearly in the darkness of the room? But then again some of them were pretty large, and there wasn’t much chance of them being missed. Y/n was going to kill him. 

She was waking up now, he could tell from the way her breathing changed and her body shifted, and she stretched out her legs and twisted in his arms to face him. “Good morning, darling.”

“Mornin’ Schmoopie.”

“I thought that name was banned?”

“Banned for you. I can use it.”

“Ah, I see.” He smiled into her forehead, pressing his lips to the skin in tiny kisses. “Did you sleep alright?” She hummed her assent, eyes still closed while she nestled further into him. He wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Best sleep I’ve had for a while.” It had felt like he’d blinked and gone from the after-effects of last night to waking up with her in his arms this morning. 

“That’s good. Can I smell tea?”

“Yes, although I don’t know who it was that brought it in; I was still asleep.”

“Probably Mum,” she said, groaning and sitting up. Anthony watched her for a moment, small smile on his face as he took in her sleepy expression, then followed suit. He went to say something, but the movement of his body sitting up had pulled the duvet away and down the bed, and all thoughts went out of his head. “Shit, it’s cold in here,” Y/n hissed, putting down the mug she’d just picked up in favour of wrapping the blankets back around her torso. She paused when she realised Anthony had frozen and gone red, and frowned at the face he was making. “Are you… alright? You look a bit… I dunno. Weird.”

“What? Oh, I’m…” he swallowed thickly and met her eyes, immediately looking away again and studying the wall opposite the bed. “I’m fine.”

“Okay… I’ll pass your tea over if you want it?”

“Thank you.” He still wasn’t looking at her, although he did remove his gaze from the wall to ensure he held the mug correctly, and a slightly awkward pause followed. 

“You didn’t put your top back on last night.” He heard her choke on her tea and pressed his hand over his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean- I just- you-” he sighed, giving up on coming up with an excuse that would explain his previous statement. 

“Of course I didn’t put it back on, I was way too warm,” she said once she’d recovered. “Wait. Were you staring at my chest?” When he didn’t answer and instead kept his gaze fixed on the tea he held she let out a laugh. “You didn’t seem bothered last night by me not wearing a top.” Now it was his turn to choke, and he had to set down his mug before he spilled the liquid. When he finally turned to look at her she had a smug grin on her face, sipping her tea while she watched him with amusement dancing in her eyes. 

“That- that was different!”

“Different how?”

“I- you- it just was!” He wished the ground would swallow him up. Y/n snorted, taking a larger gulp of tea. 

“I’m teasing, Anthony. You don’t have to look so terrified.” He didn’t think she would ever let him live this down. He had just taken his first drink of tea when he heard her curse softly. “Ant?”

“Yeah?” He looked over at her, brows drawing together. “What is it?” She bit her lip, eyes focused on something below his face. “Y/n?”

“You, uh… you’ve got…” she gestured vaguely to his neck, hesitating a moment before touching a finger to the skin just above his collarbone. It hit him, then, what she was referring to. 

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you leave marks on my neck last night?”

“… yeah?”

“Well we’re in deep shit.”

“… why?”

“I… might have done the same…” he trailed off, his voice growing quieter with every word, and she could only stare at him. 

“Anthony.”

“Hmm?”

“Anthony. Please tell me you’re joking.” He didn’t say anything, instead taking another sip of his tea. “Anthony, if it was Mum that came in and did tea this morning then we are screwed because there is no way she didn’t see. Anthony answer me.”

“I’m not joking, sorry.” He couldn’t help but smile at her exasperated groan that followed, and he opened his mouth to speak again. “Although you didn’t seem bothered by me kissing your neck last night,” he said, using her earlier words against her. This time it was his turn to be smug, and he laughed when she lightly slapped his chest. “What? You rather enjoyed it from what I remember.”

“Your memory is wrong,” she grumbled, finishing off her tea. 

“I don’t think it is, darling, but whatever you say.” 

~~~

“Good morning love birds! Did you two sleep alright?” Emma chirped when Anthony and Y/n walked into the kitchen. She noted the slight flushed look to both of them (particularly Anthony who had gone a wonderful shade of pink that she didn’t think she’d seen before), and then the poor attempts at covering up the marks that decorated their necks. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thank you.” Y/n looked like a deer in headlights, sitting down on a bar stool and smiling when her father placed a plate of food in front of her. “Thanks,” she muttered, picking up a fork and digging in. Anthony was apparently dealing with everything a lot better than Y/n, already engaged in conversation with John and Sam about something while he entertained Tom at the same time. Emma was glad that he was here, especially given how stressful Steph and Linda were, and she could tell that her eldest daughter was far better off with him in her life. He really cared about her, most likely better than Emma ever had, and while it stung to think that he was doing the job that she should have done, she was happy that Y/n had someone that she lived with to rely on. 

“Are you sure, dear? You look quite tired, I don’t imagine you did much sleeping.” She did feel a little bit of remorse at her teasing, but it was too funny watching Y/n squirm in embarrassment while she tried to come up with something to say. Even Anthony was blushing now from his place on Y/n’s right. Besides, this was her first experience with being the Embarrassing Mother, and if she needed to she would explain herself to her daughter later. 

“Did you do tea rounds this morning?” Y/n blurted instead, her brow furrowing. 

“I did… where is this going?”

“Oh, no reason. It’s fine,” she said, entirely unconvincingly. 

“Right, well eat up. Anthony, I’m showing you the photo albums after breakfast!”

“Mum, please don’t, I can’t take any more of this,” pleaded Y/n, but Emma just chuckled. 

“I just want him to see some of the previous Christmases we’ve had!”

“Personally,” Anthony chimed in, “I would love to see the photo albums, Emma. It sounds like a wonderful way to spend the morning.” His grin could only be described as shit-eating, and Emma loved it. 

She loved it even more when Y/n groaned and held her head in her hands. 

~~~

“And here- what was happening here? Oh yes, she’d managed to get her head stuck in the railings of the bannister, only three years old!”

“So you took a picture before helping your three year old daughter out of the bannisters?” Y/n asked her mother incredulously, not enjoying the way Anthony was studying every single photo of her as a baby. They had already been here for roughly forty minutes, and they weren’t even a third of the way through the album. 

“Well you don’t look too bothered, darling. In fact, you look like you’re having a whale of a time, look how big that smile is!”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, cuddling closer into his side. His laughter warmed her, and suddenly she didn’t mind so much that he was being promised copies of some of these photos. She knew that her mother knew about the marks on both of their necks, too, her suspicions confirmed after the whole fiasco at breakfast (there had been many more innuendos and exaggerated winks), but she didn’t mind that too much either. How could she, when Anthony was burning brighter than the sun right now, with his smile that lit up every room he walked into (or even walked past) and his easy charm? How could she be upset when he was sat so close to her, holding her to him so gently yet so tightly, as though he were afraid that at any moment she might disappear? 

No, she was happy. Not about the current photo of her with cake smushed all over her face and outfit at her friend’s 4th birthday party, but generally, she was happy. Steph and Linda were gone, Anthony was here, and in a few days they would be back home with Lucy, and George, and Holly too when she came over. 

For the first time in years, she was truly happy. And she could owe it all to Anthony Lockwood. 

part 12 (final part)

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @anthgoldenhrry, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @imaginebeingmentallystable, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @lady-ashfade, @light-23, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @magicandrosewaters, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @reggiepeterss, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whistle1whistle, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife, @y0urm0m12, @zoom1374, @asyouwish-fromcabin3, @magicandrosewaters, @bobbys-not-that-small, @neewtmas (sticking you on just in case my lovely <3)

I don't think I'm missing anyone but there are so many people that I honestly can't say for sure, so if you want to be added to the tag list for the final part (and maybe... other... special posts... that might be written in the future... 👀), then let me know! <3

[strwberri-milk]

ok, so I've thinking of something, but I am not creative enough, and I'm not gatekeeping my genius idea.

would you take advantage of my idea? 😽 please 🙏

so, jealous kaeya x puppy fem reader + "what? cat caught your tongue?", "brats don't get to cum", "beg for it, let me know you deserve it", "you're mine and I'm yours, got it?"

like, reader has been teasing him all day and BOOM

btw, I love your writing, keep it going

this is kinda similar to my other set of hcs of kaeya coming back after a hard day and fucking the shit out of his puppygirl lover uwu so feel free to look for that under the kaeya smut tag/kaeya x reader (im still scared to put links in my posts)

You were being a brat, and brats deserve to get punished. Kaeya knows for sure that you know what you're doing with the way you look up at him after doing something "bad" or the impish grin you give him after pushing his buttons.

Due to how busy he was right now, Kaeya wasn't able to properly tell you off the way he wanted to. Instead, he's forced to just sit back and bear it, eye watching you closely as you flit about and continue to tease him. Not only that, but he had to watch you flaunt yourself for everybody else at the headquarters could see. He was proud of the way they looked back at him with envy, but he also wanted to keep you all to himself, something becoming increasingly more difficult as you continued to talk to whoever pulled your attention.

His eye trails the lines of your body, knowing you chose what you were wearing today to purposefully fluster him. Instead of him getting worked up in the softer way you might have been planning to. You were just thinking of making him give you a bit more affection, shower you in soft kisses and just be very sweet. Since he wasn't, you decided to up the ante by coming down to headquarters to get him to give you more attention again, even if i meant tricking some of the other knights into giving you the attention that Kaeya wasn't able to yet.

That very innocent desire was unable to be fulfilled thanks to Kaeya perverting it. He couldn't get over the swell of your lips, the thought of holding your hips in his hands, the need to pull your body under his. Everything you did was pushing him further and further off the edge.

You had just finished spending the last hour sitting in his lap, cuddling into his neck as your tail languidly made its home on his waist. He liked the gentle pressure of it pressing against his stomach, but the heat of your core was beginning to make his head spin. There was no way for you to get your punishment right now, but he was concocting several plans to get back at you. You give him a kiss goodbye, ignoring the evil glint in his expression as you leave his office.

Your hands are buried in the sheets, Kaeya's fingers holding them tightly as his hips piston into you over and over again. He's done more than enough to melt your brain, currently sucking more dark marks into your neck and collar. Thankfully for you, his pace slowed to a grind, letting your walls clench over him as you give him your pathetic little whines.

"What? Cat got your tongue? You're so quiet now," he muses against your neck, reveling in the soft moan you give him when he shifts a bit.

"Come on, where'd all that spunk go, huh? Where was that energy when you had every knight drooling over how good you looked today?" he taunts a little further, laughing just a little evilly when your grip tightens on him in response.

You were dripping all over his thighs, unable to cum thanks to his incredibly inconsistent and patient self. He could feel your thighs spasming a little around his hips, knees trying to lock together to force him into fucking you to completion but failing miserably.

"You want to cum, don't you?" Your ears perk up at the thought, whimpering softly as your tail smacks the bed lightly.

"I told you you can't cum unless you begged me, and you haven't done enough of that yet," he says mildly condescendingly, sitting back up to admire your ruined body underneath him.

"Please," you say meekly, the light jangling of the collar Kaeya made you wear louder than your voice.

"I can't hear you," he sings slightly, bringing a hand down so he can use the pad of his thumb to rub at your clit.

The reaction is immediate. You let out a pathetic sounding yip, whimpering and melting into the sheets as his dick starts to bring you back up to the high you were almost able to achieve earlier. Your back arches high, practically shoving your tits in his face as he starts to fuck you earnestly again.

"You're fucking mine, you got it?" he growls, leaning over your body as you pant.

"You're mine, and only mine. I'm the only one who gets to hear these noises, the only one who gets to fuck you like this. Nobody else is allowed to touch you, you hear me?"

You nod quickly, using your newly freed hand to scratch angry lines down his back.

"Yours, I'm - mn - yours!" you cry out, trying to implore him to let you cum.

"Please let me cum! I want to cum on your cock so bad, please, please, Kaeya I'm yours, and you're mine! You're the only one who can make me feel this good, please just let me cum!"

Your begging finally does it for him and Kaeya quickly pulls out to flip you on all fours. Your body aches to be fucked like this, sharply yelping when he slides back into you by way of pulling your hips over his cock via your tail. The tight grip he has on both your hips and tail makes you scream, squirting all over the bed from the constant edging he had just subjected you to.

Kaeya can feel your juices soaking him even further, creamy hole dripping down his shaft to line his balls. All of it makes his eyes role into the back of his head as he finally cums deep inside of you. However, he refuses to stop there, continuing to fuck you over and over and over again until your body refuses to forget the shape of his cock.

[dontletsstarters]

Small-town Hell Aesthetic Prompts

Inspired by the likes of night in the woods, life is strange, & general small town atmosphere + spookyness. Some prompts include supernatural elements.

TWs: death, paranoia, murder, kidnapping, religion

Quotes

"Run away with me"

"I'll meet you at the railway tracks"

"If we're going to go, we've gotta go tonight"

"It's too late, and it's just getting later"

"Why did I say no?"

"Let me be your ride out of town"

"The plant shut down"

"I love watching the tourists, they're like ants"

"I'm not trying to tie you down"

"I'm just saying there might be a life here"

"Long time no see, [muse]"

"This place is broke as shit"

"I just wanna die anywhere else"

"I'll go with you"

"You new in town?"

"You've really never been to the museum?"

"Stay with me"

"You don't need to run"

"They've got some 80s flick in the theater right now"

"How does it feel to be you?"

"I really think I peaked in highschool"

"My house isn't haunted, I swear"

"Why do you only call me when you're high?"

"I always thought I'd die alone"

"I can't open up to you"

"They took one of our own"

"There's nothing on the radio"

"It's too late to say you're sorry"

"This town is going to eat you"

"I stepped out to bail you out again"

"Why do I work so hard?"

"I need something to fuck me up"

"The only advantage a killer has, is they think they have the right"

"Where is the lord to take care of that?"

"It was nice while it lasted"

"But you're a killer, and I'm your best friend"

"What's it matter anymore if you believe the lies I tell"

"I think it's unfair, your situation"

"It's no big surprise you turned out this way"

"I wanna contribute to the chaos"

"Can I sleep in your bed?"

Actions

Swings: Sit on a swing set alone with receiver's muse late in the evening.

Concert: Our muses sneak into a concert together only to get caught by security.

Poster: Sender's muse has gone suddenly missing and receiver's is looking for them.

Drive: Our muses are together on a drive shooting the shit.

Crashers: Our muses crash a party they're not supposed to be at.

Rager: Sender's muse is throwing an epic party and has invited receiver's.

Wrong Side: Receiver's muse catches sender's somewhere they really aren't supposed to be.

Tipsy: Our muses are sharing a bottle of alcohol somewhere outside.

Dinner: Our muses are the last two customers at a dinner for the night.

Overnight: Our muses are stuck on the overnight staff at their job together and have to spend the night together.

Returned: Sender's muse has just arrived back in town after a long time away, being greeted by receiver's.

Doppelganger: A dead body that looks exactly like sender's has shown up, but sender isn't dead.

Recovered: Receiver's muse killed sender's but sender's shows up again the next day like nothing happened.

Haunted: Our muses explore one of the local haunted buildings/attractions.

Ouji: Our muses mess with a ouji board.

Payphone: Receiver's muse calls sender's on a payphone.

Camp: Our muses are at summer camp together as camp counselors.

Parole: Sender's muse just got out on parole and receiver's has been waiting for them.

Target: There's been a string of disappearances orchestrated by sender's muse, and receiver's is their next target.

Broken Down: Sender's muse's car has Broken down on the side of the road when receiver's finds them.

Hitchhiking: Sender's muse is hitchhiking and receiver's picks them up.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Oh my god oh my god I need to know what Dick’s reaction is when he realizes Bruce and assistant! reader are together he’s such a precious child

"Bruce," Dick pouted, "You JUST went on a date."

"And?"

"Gotham needs us to-"

"Yes, Master Richard," Alfred intoned, handing Bruce his cufflinks, "But Miss Y/N would be very put out if he canceled on her again this week."

"So it's a work thing?" Dick said screwing up his face in distaste.

"No," Bruce chuckled, ruffling his hair, "It's a dinner thing. And maybe a museum thing, I haven't decided."

"Doesn't she get enough of listening to you talk all day?" Dick huffed. "I thought she already had a date tonight?"

"Dick-"

"No, no, Master Bruce," Alfred chuckled, "Give it a second."

And like clock work, Bruce can see the tumblers clicking into place and Dick grinned at him, "Are you gonna kiss her because-"

"Whether I kiss her or not," Bruce said, chucking him under the chin with a laugh, "is not anything you need to worry about."

"But if you don't kiss her hows she supposed to know you like her? Adam at school said you're supposed to-"

"Adam also told you ants taste like chocolate covered raisins," Bruce snorted, "So I highly doubt he's any sort of authority."

"Do I have to call her mom?" Dick mused. "And can she bake cookies?"

"No," Bruce said, "And I don't know. I've never asked her." He bent and kissed the top of Dick's head, "Be good. Don't stay up too late. It's a school night."

"I stay up late all the time!" Dick protested at Bruce's back as he strode out of the bedroom.

"Yeah," Bruce called over his shoulder, "And your teacher told me we have to replace your math book from you drooling on it."

[nebulousfishgills]

Please do share the notes with us 👀

Okay, let me transcribe *exactly* word for word what I wrote down in my journal for you all (Again, bear in mind that my bestie and I have NOT finished the game yet, so this isn't the full list, I will be adding more):

(The whole dialogue exchange between Henry and Brenner when Henry's getting his tattoo touched up and calls Brenner a parasite because *chef's kiss*)

Orange for Lunch??

Freedom in mind void to ability suppression

Windows

Russian Spies?

Losing Control of the hivemind?

Eleven makes him emotional?

Control over the hivemind is fickle?

"Creepy Henry" by the other kids

Mind Flayer bullies him

Using the hivemind to hunt for Eleven

"Obsession is how you love"

Eating dinner away from the rest of the family as a child

Comic books

Eggs?

Flies around like Spider-Man with the vines

Corpses = Trophies

Spiders = Muse

Mind Flayer communicates to Henry with Brenner's voice

"Most human thing about him" is feeling time

"Tied down like your mother" ??

Physically inside brains?

Obsession with the past

Obsession the only way he can connect

Influence only goes as far as the corruption

Ants? Spiders eat ants?

Chapter 2 says November 1983

Mind Flayer wants to devour everything

Will the key

Chapter 3 The Possession of Will Byers

Vecna in communication with Will

Manipulates Will's memories?

"I understand you more than anybody else"

Can possess technology?

Sows seeds of doubt

"You'll finally matter to someone, Will"

Fascinated by environment (nerd)

Mind Flayer absorbs Henry's memories

Studies Henry

Brenner said he'd take the chip out

Stole some of the Flayer's power?

Mind Flayer is a DICK

Keeps escaping Mind Flayer's influence

Rewarded for hurting things

Saw Eleven like a sister - "Alice"

Eleven was the "replacement?"

Mind Flayer deadass pulls out a "rate your emotions" chart

Henry corrupts the Upside Down

We stopped in the middle of the memory nexus loop since the headset was dying and it was getting late, but that's what I've written down so far. I'll update this once we finish the game and then maybe come up with a more comprehensive analysis post.

[iconuk01]

Icon_UK muses on Discworld scenes

I would be VERY hard pushed to state my favourite scene in the Discworld books. There are so many magnificent scenes, memorable characters, and dialogue to make your heart weep with so many emotions, but favourite entire scene, that's hard?

Death and Susan's discussion about the need for fantasy is, of course, high up that list. No one who reads it ever forgets "To be the place where the falling angel, meets the rising ape", but is that my favourite?

It might be Granny Weatherwax's discussion of religion with Mightily Oats in "Carpe Jugulum".

But I think I have to give it to a minor scene in "Lords and Ladies" involving a regular character in the Witches books who doesn't get much page count, and this may in fact be their longest single scene in all the books, and it's such a GOOD one!

Jason Ogg, master blacksmith and farrier, pumped the bellows of his forge once or twice for the look of the thing, and sat down on his anvil again. It was always warm in the forge, even with the wind whistling around the eaves.

"He could shoe anything, could Jason Ogg. They'd brought him an ant once, for a joke, and he'd sat up all night with a magnifying glass and an anvil made out of the head of a pin. The ant was still around, somewhere-some-times he could hear it clatter across the floor.

But tonight. . . well, tonight, in some way, he was going to pay the rent. Of course, he owned the forge. It had been passed down for generations. But there was more to a forge than bricks and mortar and iron. He couldn't put a name to it, but it was there. It was the difference between being a master farrier and just someone who bent iron in complicated ways for a living. And it had something to do with iron. And something to do with being allowed to be very good at his job. Some kind of rent.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Jason dons a blindfold, awaiting the arrival of a late night visitor, one whose feet make a click-clack sound as he walks across the floor, doesn't seem to breathe, and who TALKS LIKE THIS. He has a horse needing new horseshoes.

Which Jason does (the blindfold being no challenge to his skills) whilst maintaining polite (and extremely respectful) small talk with his visitor, whilst internally acknowledging that he does not wish to know who his visitor is, depsite knowing EXACTLY who he is.

The final exchange is my very favourite in the whole series, as Jason gives in to inevitable temptation.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“M'lord?”

YES, MR. OGG?

“I 'as got one question . . .”

YES, MR. OGG?

Jason ran his tongue over his lips.

“If I were to . . . take the blindfold off, what'd I see?”

There. It was done now.

There was a clicking sound on the flagstones, and a change in the air movement which suggested to Jason that the speaker was now standing in front of him.

ARE YOU A MAN OF FAITH, MR. OGG?

Jason gave this some swift consideration. Lancre was not knee-deep in religions. There were the Nine Day Wonderers, and the Strict Offlians, and there were various altars to small gods of one sort or another, tucked away in distant clearings. He'd never really felt the need, just like the dwarfs. Iron was iron and fire was fire - start getting metaphysical and you were scraping your thumb on the bottom of your hammer.

WHAT DO YOU REALLY HAVE FAITH IN, RIGHT AT THIS MOMENT?

He's inches away, Jason thought. I could reach out and touch . . .

There was a smell. It wasn't unpleasant. It was hardly anything at all. It was the smell of air in old forgotten rooms. If centuries could smell, then old ones would smell like that.

MR. OGG?

Jason swallowed.

“Well, m'lord,” he said, “right now . . . I really believe in this blindfold.”

GOOD MAN. GOOD MAN. AND NOW . . . I MUST BE GOING.

Jason heard the latch lift. There was a thud as the doors scraped back, driven by the wind, and then there was the sound of hooves on the cobbles again.

YOUR WORK, AS ALWAYS, IS SUPERB.

“Thank you, m'lord.”

I SPEAK AS ONE CRAFTSMAN TO ANOTHER.

“Thank you, m'lord.”

WE WILL MEET AGAIN.

“Yes, m'lord.”

WHEN NEXT MY HORSE NEEDS SHOEING.

“Yes, m'lord.”

Jason closed the door and bolted it, although there was probably no point, when you thought about it.

But that was the bargain - you shod anything they brought to you, anything, and the payment was that your could shoe anything.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I love that the Discworld's anthropomorphic manifestation of a universal inevitability speaks to a village blacksmith as an equal, as a craftsman, to be acknowledged and respected as such. There's something gorgeous in that combination of the mundane and the cosmic.

And the subtle little "reward" Jason gets from his customer as he leaves, an assurance that the next time they meet it will still be as "blacksmith" and "customer", not "recently departed" and "collector of souls"? Sublime.

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 14 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

I am so sorry.

This is based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.

“Jesus Christ.” I muttered as we finally arrived back at our old site. The jovial banter had quickly died after we returned. I looked around, the tall trees that once loomed over the foxholes, now stood splintered in half, branches and limbs of the pine trees laid scattered all over the ground. Now I understand the saying, ‘looks like a bombs gone off’, the place was a whole mess. 

“Well at least it will make it easier to build up the covers on the foxholes.” Skip mused, kicking the debris as we walked. I hummed in agreement. 

We were back looking out across the field at Foy. The thought of the enemy only being so far away sent shivers up my spine. You could see them moving around like little ants, scurrying from one house to the other. They were getting ready. Did they know we had moved back in? I had hoped not. Maybe they could leave us in peace for a while, and make it easy. But who was I kidding, this was not going to be easy in the slightest, taking hold of Foy was going to be a mission. An even harder mission at that with stupid Dike leading us. God if anything happens please let Dike be injured. It was cruel of me to think that, but I needed my boys alive. 

I drag tree limbs back to the foxhole we had claimed, throwing them down onto the front of the hole. I roll my aching shoulders, wiping the sweat from my brow. Don comes up from behind me throwing more branches down onto the pile. 

“What, are you tired?” He teases, as I stretch my arms. I crack my knuckles on each hand in response. “Oh, ew!” He cringes at the noise. 

“Oh you’re gonna love this then. Listen.” Even though he hates the sound he pauses and listens. I twist my back, keeping my feet in place, the joints popping up my spine. 

“Oh, Em what is wrong with you?” Don crinkles up his nose in disgust at the noise. I laugh. 

“I’m creaky!” I shrug, still smiling at him. 

“Creepy more like.” Don pokes me in the stomach, I fend him off, pretending to be offended. 

“Alright lover birds get a room.” Skip says as he approaches, dragging more sticks for us to put on the cover.  

“We do! We just have to share it with two wombles!” Don and I turn our assault onto Skip, poking him in the sides. He yelps trying to get away, Don and I cackle mischievously. Alex comes up seeing the chaos and decides to join in, attacking Skip as well. Skip falls to the floor, red in the face and out of breath. We finally let him go, stepping back to enjoy our handiwork. 

“Ok, note to self, don’t pick on Em and Don when they are together.” We chuckle as Don pulls him back to his feet. We get back to our task of getting more branches to build up the foxholes.       

I walk slowly back to the hole, trying my best not to fall over, I can’t see due to the high stack of sticks that Alex had placed in my arms. When a faint boom sounds from behind me, then another and another. My mind is slow to process the noise as I walk. It’s not until Lip screams that my brain finally clicks. I drop my sticks, frantically looking for the closest foxhole to shelter in, before the inevitable happens. Before I can find a foxhole the first shell hits. My adrenaline is already coursing through my veins, I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, along with the yells of the men calling to take cover. The shell rocks the earth beneath my feet, I stumble moving forward. My eyes dart around looking for somewhere to hide. 

“EM!” I hear over the explosions, I look around. Don’s head pokes out of a hole, his face urging me to get a move on. I sprint towards it, diving in. We curl into tight balls, protecting our heads and necks as shells rain down around us. Dirt and debris spray over us with each hit. Even with all the noise my ears still listen for anyone calling for a medic. The heat from the shells were intense, the blow of hot air on our skin wasn’t a welcome feeling even in the cold. The shelling stopped just as abruptly as it had started. We unfurled ourselves from tight holds, peeking our heads over the sides of the hole to assess the scene in front of us. I didn’t even notice until it had stopped that Bill was in the same hole as Malarkey and I. From the deafening booms to the eerie silence afterwards it put me on edge. I was waiting for a call to go and help. I strained my ears listening, but they still rang from the events prior. 

“Maybe we should see if anybody’s hit.” Don said. 

“Yeah, Malark, that’s what they want.” Bill replied back, affirming it wasn’t a good idea to leave the holes we sheltered in just yet. “The Krauts are trying to draw us out in the open.” 

We waited and listened. But it was still. We couldn’t see much in front of us either, the smoke from the shells still hadn’t cleared, giving us poor visibility.

“I need help!” The shout was distant, but the three of us in the hole turned our heads in the direction the voice came from. 

“You hear that?” Don asked. I nodded, not taking my eyes off the place where I heard the voice. The cries growing louder. 

“Is that Joe?” Bill asked, we listened again to the voice. 

“Yeah, I think that’s Joe.” Don confirmed. I moved to get out, but Bill and Malarkey quickly stopped me.     

“Bill, he needs help!” I looked at the man, he had a firmer grip on me than Don. 

“Stay!” He ordered, getting out of the hole himself. 

“But Bill!” I protested, he turned around shaking his head. I huffed. My stomach churned, I chewed on the inside of my lip, trying to see where Bill went.        

My heart lurched into my throat when I heard the sound of more shells being fired. 

“Bill’s still out there.” I yelled at Malarkey, who pulled me down further into the foxhole. I hadn’t realised it but I had stood up when I heard the noise, straining my eyes to see if I could spot the pair. 

“Get down!” Don and I lay on the floor of the hole. I flinched with each boom. Tears welled in my eyes. Please be safe. I chanted in my head.

“MEDIC!” I was quick to my feet, scrambling out of the hole. But Don was faster, grabbing me by my waist and throwing me back into the hole. 

“They need help!” We yelled at the same time. “Are you crazy Em!”  

Shells still blasted around us. I was begging them to stop, so I could go to the men who needed help. I needed to find Bill and Joe and make sure they were ok. It ceased finally. 

“MEDIC!” I looked at Don, ensuring he wasn’t going to drag me back in the hole again this time. He nodded, letting me know he was ok with me leaving. I was up on my feet in seconds, sprinting through the forest, leaping over fallen trees. 

I got to the scene first. I was horrified. Both Bill and Joe lay on the ground surrounded in blood. But they were still breathing. I took in each man, assessing their injuries. Joe’s leg was gone from the knee down, while Bill’s leg barely clung on by muscles and tendons. 

“GENE!” I screamed for the other medic, I needed all the help I could get. Gene was quick to arrive, crouching down by my side as I tourniqueted Joe’s leg. I have given him a syrette of morphine but he still grimaced in pain while I was helping him. I let Gene take over from me, moving to help Bill. I also gave him morphine for the pain. He put on a brave face. I cut the blood flow off from his wounded leg, I don’t think we will be able to save it in its condition. I would rather him lose the leg than bleed out on me. 

“Doc what can I do?” I heard Don say from behind me, as he helped Gene. Joe was groaning in pain. I turned my attention back onto Bill. 

“How’s the pain?” I asked, looking over his body for any other injuries. 

“Fine Em.” He gritted through his teeth, always so stubborn Bill, he didn’t want to admit he was in pain.  

“Bill, you’re going first ok.” I said as the men arrived with the stretcher to take him back to the aid station. 

“Whatever you say, Darling.” Bill gave me a tight lipped smile. 

The men moved him onto the stretcher, Bill crying out in agony as they did so. I winced at the noise. 

“Don’t look so worried Emmy.” Bill reached out brushing his hand over my face, smoothing out the creases of concern between my brows. I took his hand in mine, giving it a squeeze, letting him go as the men carried him away. 

“Hey, Joe, I told you I’d beat you back to the states.” Bill says as he is carted away. I help Gene with Joe’s leg as we wait for the other medics to come and retrieve him. I pack the stump of his leg with dressings before covering it. Don sits with him holding his hand, as we work.  

I hear the conversation between Luz and Lip. Lipton asks about Buck. He didn’t look in good shape when I had arrived, he had seen the whole thing. He looked distraught. As soon as he saw me and knew that the men were being treated he left. He didn’t utter a word to me, or offer to help. It was like he was sleepwalking as he trudged away. I hadn’t seen him since. So to hear Luz tell Lip that he was fine, I didn’t believe him. My mind went back to the conversation that Babe and Bill had prior about the Lieutenant, Babe was right he was wound up like a spring waiting to explode. I’m sure what he had witnessed sent him over the edge. Buck was indeed not fine. I glanced over my shoulder. I could make him out, sitting on a fallen tree, head in his hands. He looked broken.  

The other men arrive soon after with another stretcher to take Joe away. They took Buck with them as well. We had said he needed to go back to the aid station due to a bad case of trench foot. But we all knew the man had reached his breaking point, war was no good for him anymore. It would kill him to stay, we knew that. No one said anything, but we knew. Don often went to the aid station to visit him, when he would come back he looked defeated. He told me that Buck wasn’t the same, he didn’t want his letters read to him, he didn’t say anything, just lay in his bed looking up at the roof. Don tried his best to help and care for his friend, but he was too far gone. The best thing for Buck Comptant was to go home and be with his family. Away from the horrors of war. But it was a hard thing to escape once it was etched into your mind. I just wished for the best for the kind man. I hoped that going home he would be able to recover again to the best of his ability.       

We huddle round in a circle as George tells his stories. One of the best parts of the night, listening to the outlandish stories from Luz. 

“You fellas know I got no reason to  bullshit you, right?” Luz says, as we chuckle. 

“Yeah, right.” Skip says sarcastically, as we all chuckle. 

“Look, I’m not gonna bullshit you. This is what I saw. It was so unbelievable, you might not believe me. So you-know-who comes running up to Lipton. He’s got no helmet, no gear, no nothing.” Luz tells us. “Ah, 1st Sergeant Lipton, you organise things here, and I’m gonna go for…help.” Luz mimics Dike’s voice. We all laugh. I’m shocked but not surprised. Of course he would fucking dip when we were getting hit. God help us for when we have to go into Foy. “I need to go polish my oak leaf clusters.” I was never not impressed with George’s talent to mimic people, he’s so good at it. I hear someone clearing their throat, we all straighten as we look behind George to find Lip. Like being caught by a teacher doing something naughty. We all know that Lip doesn’t like us to bad mouth Dike, he says it brings down morale and it’s not helpful. It’s true but you gotta rant sometimes especially about Dike. I grin at the man as he gets called away by Lip. 

“Alright fellas, Em.” Luz looks sheepish as he turns to go talk to Lip. 

“Goodnight, goodnight all.” Don says as he makes his way back to the foxhole to get some shut eye.

"Night fellas. Night Em." Skip says to me as Alex and Skip leave to their own hole.

"Night you two, see you in the morning." I grin at the pair as they wave goodbye.

I stayed back, wanting to talk to Lip after he had spoken to Luz.

“I’ll meet you back at the hole.” I tell Don, he nods leaving me by myself. I watch Luz and Lip walk away from each other. I say goodnight to George as he passes me. I follow after Lip, I walk about two steps before I am knocked off my feet. I fall back onto the snow, dazed by the blast. The trees around me explode with a blinding light. I get to my feet. Only to fall again. I crawl forward as the shells explode around me, Skip and Penkala are just ahead yelling at me to move faster to get to them. I shuffle forward, every time I stand another shell hits the ground near me knocking me off balance. Everything moves in slow motion, I look to the boys who scream for me, ushering me forward with their arms. I am almost there, almost safe in their foxhole. A blinding light hits their hole, the boys basically disintegrate in front of my eyes. A gasp leaves my lips, before my brain can process what I just witnessed. The hole, now a crater, is empty and the men residing in it have disappeared. A strangled scream leaves my lips. I sob. I cry out in agony. Tears blurring my vision. I can’t stop screaming. My blood curdling screams fill the air along with the deafening blows. I lie in the snow, shells still hitting the floor I lay on, as I howl, I can barely breath. I have to get up. I force myself to stand, tears streaming down my face. I run, I don’t even know where I am going. I get up, I fall again. I crash to the ground in front of a foxhole watching the soldier stand. It's Lipton, he grabs me by my clothes hauling me into the hole with him. I can’t stop sobbing. I bawl as Lipton holds me to him. 

“Muck and Penkala!” I cry, “They’re gone!” My brain can’t even function or process what I have seen.  

A shell hits close by the blast hitting us and sending shrapnel flying in our direction as we grunt bracing the impact. Lipton groans out in pain. We cover our heads as we sit in the hole, when the shells sound less we lift our heads. A bomb lands beside us, I gasp, waiting to be blown to pieces, but it never comes. The shell lying beside us doesn’t go off. I feel like I am going to throw up. I pull out the cigarette that Malarkey gave me earlier when I had beaten him in cards, lighting it. I inhale the foul tasting smoke letting it burn my throat and lungs, Lipton takes the smoke off me inhaling deeply as well, “I thought you didn’t smoke?” I say to Lip. 

“I don’t, but I could say the same for you.” He looks over at my tear streaked face, I take a shaky breath as Lip slowly puffs on the cigarette.

[lilislegacy]

I have been thinking about this headcannon for awhile because it pertains to my OC Dawn specifically as a child of Apollo

I know somebody has said before of children of poseidon being sirens or having siren powers, but I think we'll make more sense if this was children of Apollo and the muses specifically.

The children of apollo are all skilled with music and instruments and a voice is just another instrument

It would be very similar to charmspeak with the aphrodite kids

And it's kind of cannon already

In the hidden oracle, Apollo/Lester sings a sad song at the ant creatures (Sorry I can't remember what they are actually called) to distract them in order to free Meg. When he finally gets to Meg, she is crying because of his song.

He then also sings a love song to the mother ant creature to get her to fly them out of there

This is something that I think his children would potentially be able to do. Probably not to the extent that he was able to because he's a god, but they would have some form of musical talent.

Other Children of apollo have musical instruments and such. I imagine it playing out like that one scene from the owl house, Eda's Requiem. I'll link it because it's stunning.

I also totally didn't come up with this just so that I could have my character, Dawn, burst into song while fighting /j

This is that owl house scene I was talking about, actually a lot of owl house stuff crosses over beautifully with percy jackson

https://youtu.be/siBB0vKoK2A?si=rHEMgoEv_RnVusfz

thanks for the ask @invadericee!

oooh, this is super interesting!

i really love this being an ability of apollo’s kids instead of poseidon’s. it makes more sense to me. there’s a lot to be explored here

this is good brain food. i shall process. thank you!!

[27dragons]

New Year Countdown: Dec 20

What's better than a pirate AU? A Stuckony pirate AU!

Dec 20 - Stuckony - Pirates AU - Bells

The Iron Monger was two days out from London, her belly full of fine cotton cloth and precious gems and other luxuries that had been paid for with swords and guns made with Stark steel. Tony was in his cabin going over the inventory for the third time, his thoughts growing more troubled by the hour.

A brisk knock heralded Obie’s arrival. “How’re we looking?” he asked, sitting on the side of Tony’s bunk.

“How did you do this?” Tony wondered. “These good are worth two, maybe even three times what we gave them.”

Obie scoffed. “And you thought my bartering skills were rusty.”

“I admit it, Obie, I’m impressed.” Obie’s blithe confidence only made Tony more nervous. The jewel trader had looked familiar.

“A good haul,” Obie mused, self-congratulatory, “and we’ll be back home in time for Christmas.”

“I suppose so,” Tony agreed. “What have you—“

The door opened again to reveal the captain’s mate. “Sirs. The cap’n thought you should know there’s a ship just come over the horizon, following us.”

“On intercept?” Tony asked.

“Too soon to say, sir.”

Obie hummed thoughtfully. “What colors?”

“American,” the mate said.

“Well, then they’ll likely be trailing us most of the way back home,” Obie said easily. “It’s good. If one ship runs into trouble, the other can help.”

“Mayhap,” the mate agreed.

“Keep us informed,” Tony said, and the mate bobbed his head before ducking back out.

“You don’t find that troubling?” Tony asked.

“It’s a big ocean, but there are a lot of ships,” Obie said. “We’ll watch. What else can we do?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Tony found himself lingering on the deck, though, watching the slowly-approaching ship. She was fast for a five-master.

On the fourth day, with not a speck of land in sight, the trailing ship seemed to put on even more speed, and Tony woke the fifth morning to the frantic ringing of the ship’s bells. He stumbled up to the deck to find the crew scurrying around like ants around a disturbed nest. “What’s happened?”

“She changed colors in the night,” the quartermaster said as he came up behind them. “See for yourself.” He slapped his spyglass into Tony’s hand and strode off, bellowing orders at the crew.

Tony lifted the glass to his eye. The ship had come much closer during the night and its colors had indeed changed. It was now flying a flag to strike fear into the hearts of even the most stalwart sailor: a red star encircled with white, the rest of the field black as pitch. It was the flag of the pirate ship Avenger.

“Damn.” He had recognized that agent, then — the Avenger’s second mate, a woman as heartless and cruel as she was beautiful.

That did not, however, mean that all Tony’s fears were true. He folded the spyglass and went in search of the captain, to discover what he could do to help.

*

Their efforts at speed had been futile; it had taken the Avenger only another day to come close enough to demand that the Iron Monger stand and be boarded.

“Give them whatever they want,” Tony told the captain. “Nothing in that hold is worth your men’s lives.”

The captain nodded grimly, his gaze fixed on the pirates, particularly their captain and first mate. Tony had a difficult time looking away from them, himself.

Obie, however, had other ideas.

When the pirates had boarded, surrounding them, and the hulking first mate stood before them, Obie stepped forward. “Leave us the goods,” he said, “and you can have this one.” He waved at Tony.

“What?” Tony stared. “Obie—“

“The Stark scion,” Obie coaxed. “They’ll pay a fortune in ransom to get him back.”

“Stark policy is to pay no ransom,” Tony hissed. “You know that, Obie. Howard wouldn’t offer so much as a half-bit for me!”

Obie didn’t even glance at him. 

The pirate stroked his face, considering Tony thoughtfully. “He’s a pretty enough prize,” he said, “but difficult to split amongst the crew if Stark doesn’t pay up.”

Obie growled, and the pirate laughed. “Oh, we’ll take him, all right,” he promised. “And since he’s worth so much, only a tithe of what’s in your stores below.” He gestured to his men, who gave bloodthirsty grins. Two took hold of Tony’s arms, and the rest headed for the holds.

“Obie, you bastard!” Tony yelled, struggling in the pirates’ grips.

“I’m sure your father will ensure you’re returned to us soon,” Obie said soothingly. “It’s the best way.”

Tony swore and yelled until the pirates had wrestled him back across rails and onto their own ship. His hands were bound, but they let him stand at the deck rail as he watched the Iron Monger retreat into the distance.

He’d known things were peculiar, he’d known Obie was venal and selfish. But he hadn’t thought the man capable of such a betrayal.

He noted when the Avenger’s captain and first mate came to stand at his sides, but didn’t say anything, or even look at them.

The captain carefully untied the ropes binding Tony’s wrists, and the first mate took Tony’s hands to massage blood back into them.

“I hate to say I told you so,” the first mate said, “but…”

“Bucky,” the captain chided.

“Th’ bastard didn’t even blink when Natasha suggested it, Stevie,” Bucky growled. “I’m sorry, Tony, I am. But we told you Stane was no good. I wish we’d been wrong.”

“I know,” Tony sighed, and when Steve put an arm around Tony’s shoulders, he didn’t shake it off.

He hadn’t known who the pirates were when he’d met them almost two years ago, nor when they’d fallen into bed only a few months later.  The fallout had been spectacular when he did find out. They’d begged him to run away with them, to join their pirate crew. They’d sworn that Obie was too power-hungry to let Tony succeed his father as the head of Stark Steel. Tony had denied it, furious, and sworn never to speak to them again. But the seeds of doubt had been planted.

And now they’d borne bitter fruit.

Tony watched until the last of the Iron Monger’s masts had slipped below the horizon. “He’s going to kill my father,” he murmured.

“Most like,” Bucky agreed soberly. “What will you do now?”

“Do I have any choice?”

“You have every choice, Tony,” Steve assured him. “If you want to go, we can engineer an ‘escape.’”

“What if I want you to help me hunt him down?” Tony asked.

Steve and Bucky exchanged a look over Tony’s head, and then Bucky’s arm curled around Tony’s waist. “You goin’ to run away with us after all, darlin’? Be a pirate?”

“If we can catch the Iron Monger before she gets back to port,” Tony said, “then I’ll be anything you want.”

“Anything?” Steve asked.

Tony turned to look up at them, their expressions hopeful and worried and tender by turns. “Anything,” he agreed, and then amended, “Everything.”