luludeluluramblings · 3 days ago
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Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family Part Two
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
Part One
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
A/N: I was genuinely thinking this wouldn’t be as liked as it was. I kinda wanna take my time with it and slow it down. Focus on the Yandere aspect, and the little blurbs to go along with it. But, I hope y’all enjoy!
Warnings: Pregnancy, mild yandere themes (blink and you’ll miss it)
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
It wasn’t like you had unintentionally forgotten to mention the apartment search to Stephanie. Mom brain can make you a silly forgetful goose.
Besides, other things had popped up that were much more important. Like, finding out the bean’s gender and finding yourself some actual maternity pants. Or, trying not to pass out. The waves of exhaustion that hit you were surprising. You had hit you second trimester and were supposed to start feeling better, the Doctor said.
But, apparently every pregnancy was different.
Stephanie, on the other hand, had started spending more and more time with you. Which was nice. The way you two were bonding over your experiences was kind of grounding. The little tips she gave were also kinda helpful. She tended to mother-hen you, though. Getting really strict about eating the cold cut sandwiches and your caffeine intake.
The lack of caffeine definitely didn’t help your irritably. Which you were struggling to control. You kept your snappy attitude to yourself as best you could, but sometimes the other’s in the house would do something that would make you glare at them. Alfred and Cassandra had definitely caught on that something was up. You showed the most restraint around them when it came to controlling your emotions. Stephanie was supportive as well.
But, Jason eventually had the absolute audacity to eat your fried cornbread one day. A recipe you had learned from your Momma’s Momma before she died. He left not a single crumb when you found him in the kitchen with a content look.
When you found the empty food container in the sink, you could feel your blood still.
“Did you eat my cornbread, Jason?” You had cooly asked, still looking at the empty container.
He had the further audacity to seem so nonchalant about it, “Yeah, it was good. You should make some more some time.”
“You ate my motherfuckin’ cornbread and you wanna telll me to make some more?” You were about take the empty container from the sink and chucked it at his stupid head.
“Watch the language, princess. It’s not that big a—“ Before he could finish, the restraint was gone and you were throwing the empty contain at him. Some of the dirty water splashing on him.
“What the hell? What gives?”
“You. Ate. My. Fuckin’. Cornbread. Do you know how much I was looking forward to that? And, you just fuckin’ ate it with a damn care?”
“Look, chill.” Jason is more baffled by your sudden behavior than anything to give you his usual temper. Normally you’re more mellow. Just letting them ignore you with ease. Hell, you used to seem scared of him.
“No, I will not fuckin’ chill. You ain’t ask, you just took it, you son of a bitch!” Honestly, you’re about to throw another dirty plastic container at him when Alfred walks in. Seeing the rage on your face and Jason sitting at the counter without care.
“Master Jason, I believe Master Dick requires your presence.” Alfred says with a masterfully controlled tone. You can’t tell if he’s lying or not, and, assumedly, neither can Jason because he gets up to leave.
Jason gives you a glare as he walks out of the kitchen. But, there is a hint of confusion in his gaze that you ignore in favor of trying not to cry over fucking cornbread of all things.
With a huff you go to pick up the empty container, only for Alfred to stop you.
“I believe you shouldn’t be straining yourself so much in your condition, my dear.” He picks it up for you before giving you a very pointed look. His eyes drifting towards the bump you have hidden underneath your oversized hoodie.
Instantly, guilt floods you. You hadn’t tell Alfred about the baby, despite him being your pillar of support in the manor. It makes tears actually spill over your lashes, and it cause you to feel even more frustrated that you can’t contain your emotions anymore.
“How long have you known?”
“I’ve had reason to suspect, but you yourself have just confirmed my suspicions, my dear.” The way Alfred’s single eyebrow raises makes to want to laugh on top of crying.
“Besides, I’ve noticed an unusual increase in the consumption of hot sauce and ice cream in this house. And, bowls containing the remains of the unholy concoction in the sink at the odd hours of the night.” But, the way he gives you a gentle and understanding smile makes a little choking noise escape you.
Thankfully, he lets you bury yourself in his chest as the tears start flowing. Willfully letting you ruin his freshly pressed clothes with your tears and snot. You can feel his hand rubbing your back like he was consoling a child, and you definitely felt like a child in that moment. A broken and pathetic child.
“I’m sorry” You mumble. The two words an apology for a million things. The tears, the recent volatility, the secrets, the way you’ve seemed to have lost control.
“You are forgiven, my dear. You are forgiven.”
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
Jason had stormed into the cave, fully knowing Alfred had lied about Dick needing him when he saw him training with Damian and Steph. The sound of their soft grunts, punches, and kicks echoing a bit off the cave walls
“Alright, I’m just gonna say it. What’s the princesses’ deal? Little brat just threw Tupperware at me.” That got everyone’s interest and amusement.
“Are you sure you didn’t deserve it?” Tim quipped from the BatComputer with a grin. Typing away on another case.
“Shut it, Timbo. That’s not the point. She’s acting off.” He huffed as he moved towards one of the seats in the cave. Haphazardly throwing himself into the chair and leaning back with his legs spread.
“Maybe she’s finally coming out of her shell?” Duke suggested without looking over at him. Too focused on his gear. Checking over the material for any tears since the time he’d been on patrol.
Once again, the idea makes Jason scoff and further lean back in his seat.
“She’s literally been living here for years and now she wants to finally grow a spine? Not buying it. Something’s going on.”
“You sound like Bruce.” Dick immediately points out with a raised brow and a wiry grin. Him and the other two moving back over towards the rest of the caves current occupants. Sweat currently on their brows and forms.
“Fuck you, dickhead.”
Dick playful stumbles at the insult, clutching his chest. “Hurtful.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so concerned. Aren’t you always antagonizing her?” Tim points out mildly curious, but most of his attention is directed towards the giant screen in front of him.
“Not the point.”
“This conversation is pointless.” Damian mutters, taking a drink of water with a bored look on his face.
“Isn’t she your sister, Damian? You used to go on and on about being the blood son. Shouldn’t you care about your blood sister?” Tim goads him, never one to let Damian forget his old bratty behavior.
“Half-sister. She’s just a mistake.” He scoffs.
“Damian, knock it off.” Stephanie says with a sharp tone and a even sharper look.
That stuns everyone.
“Steph?” Dick says in… not concern, but bafflement.
“Excuse me, Brown?” Damian’s hackles rising. It was rare for him and Stephanie to go at it. But, not exactly unheard of.
“Just, knock it off, Damian.” She bluntly stated. Not allowing the argument to go any further before she’s whipping the sweat from her face and walking towards the cave’s stair. “Jason, where was she?”
He eyes her for a moment, slight suspicion on his blank face.
“In the kitchen with Alfred.”
“I’m going to go check on her.”
They’re quiet as her feet briskly climb the stairs.
“How much do you want to bet Steph knows what’s going on and isn’t tell us?” Tim breaks the silence with a curious look.
“I’m not taking that bet. But, I think you have a point, Jason.” Dick says, acknowledging his earlier suspicions.
“You have any ideas, Cass?”
“… Something is going on. Not sure what.”
“Guess we have a little princess mystery on our hands.” Jason snarks. Content on being validated, but mind now wondering.
“Might be interesting.” Tim replies with a shrug of his shoulders. “Oh, hey, Damian, just got a space transmission from Conner. Jon and him will be back in a few days and will probably stop by the manor.”
“Jon is tolerable, but must Conner come here as well.”
“Hey, he’s my best friend. Chill out.”
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
A/N: Smalltown!Meta!Reader Part 8 has surpassed 4000 words and I’m still not done. And, I cut it in half. I’m really focusing on more dialogue, cause it’s starting to be kinda fun!
A/N: I will get to my asks. Eventually. I mean it, I cleaned it out and then y’all doubled it! I’ll get to it! One day!
A/N: The BatFam tags are lighting up y’all! We are blessed, we are fed!
☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁���☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️
Taglist:
@bunbunboysworld @ellaprime7 @bad4amficideas @victoria1676
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jinwoosbabyboo · 2 days ago
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Sweet Like Honey Buns
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Tara had convinced you to buy some lingerie to wear for your man as a little ‘just because’ gift, but he walked in on you trying it on. Is he getting his gift early? A/N: ‼️MDNI‼️I'd give all of them their gift early no questions asked.
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𝚉𝚊𝚢𝚗𝚎
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[SFW]
utterly captivated seeing you in lingerie
shocked stock still doesn’t move an inch until you yell at him “Zayne!” ”Im sorry I-i’ll be out here”
is completely flustered when you stop him and ask him how you look “Well … what do you think?”
speechless at how good you look
“this was supposed to be a surprise, but you already saw it now” “…..” still speechless with hearts in his eyes
so stunned that he starts talking about irrelevant matters “You should lock your door its safer” “I noticed you have a few dishes still in your sink” “Your carpet could use a good vacuuming”
“Do you think I look weird?” “You look perfect my love”
once you can get him to focus he’s flustered showering you in compliments
although you're dressed in little to nothing he still focuses on your face while he praises you “You look ravishing my love” “You look stunning in anything that you wear”
kisses your knuckles before giving you another once over
subtly offers to buy you more
[NSFW]
his composure was already hanging on by a thread so when you kissed him as a thank you his mind went blank
picks you up by the waist and has a seat on the bed; settling you onto his lap so you’re straddling him
he’s gropping your tits immediately
“No no keep it on” when you try to take your bra off
pops one tit out so he can suck on it while he squeezes and gropes the other
reaches down to pull your panties to the side and is shocked to find them crotchless immediately slips in with ease
lays back and pistons his hips up into you while never taking his mouth off your titty
insatiable seeing you in this set that the only time he takes his mouth off your chest is to watch your pussy drip down his dick all while you lazily ride him with shaky legs
𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚢𝚎𝚕
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[SFW]
“Is this what you invited me over for?” “You weren’t supposed to see this yet”
stands in the doorway and just admires you from afar
asks you to give him a little twirl once to the left another to the right and one more so he can see it from the back again
is jealous that Tara is the one who talked you into buying it instead of him
“will you buy more if I convince you?”
wants to go shopping with you next time to pick out more of course he'll pay for them
[NSFW]
has you give him one more twirl and stops you when youre backwards so he can slap your ass
“I'd let you do whatever you wanted to me dressed like this” “You already do that no matter what I wear” “yea but the difference is you’d be wearing this”
wants you to dominate him in this outfit
can’t help, but pull your body close to him as he grips your ass
wants you to keep it on the whole time “sit on my face”
“make me beg for it” as he eats it through the panties
lets you think you have all the power until he gets the first orgasm out of you then he’s flipping you on your back so he can see you sprawled out under him with this outfit on
“Raf I have to take these off if you want to put it in” “no you dont”
rips a hole in your panties just so he can slip in with ease
pussydrunk and is feral having you under him dressed like this
buys you crotchless lingerie sets afterwards
not stopping until you’re a double stuffed Twinkie and double iced toaster strudel that needs help walking to the bathroom
𝚇𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛
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[SFW]
“Did I intrude on you?” keeps his eyes cast downward
is a blushing mess when you tell him to look
“this was supposed to be a surprise” “trust me I'm incredibly surprised"
grabs your hand and spins you to see the full set
“you look gorgeous baby”
can’t help but run his hands up and down your waist
“did you only get one?”
asks what other sets you saw that you wanted so he can go buy them
can’t stop complimenting you to the point he’s rambling
[NSFW]
on his knees for you literally
my boy is trailing kisses down your chest and stomach until he is on his knees kissing and licking your pussy through the panties
once your knees start buckling he tells you to get against the wall, pulls your panties to the side and throws one leg over his shoulder
stares up at you while you cum in his mouth
picks you up and throws you on the bed
has to pop a titty out to suck on while he buries two fingers in you and gropes your other boob
“please let me buy you more of these” he pants as he fumbles with his zipper
ends up accidentally ripping your panties and proceeds to literally tear the entire set off of you “Xav this was expensive!” “I’ll reimburse you and buy you more now lay back”
𝚂𝚢𝚕𝚞𝚜
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[SFW]
“and here I thought you couldn’t get anymore tempting”
not only stares, but circles you as he relishes in the sight before him
“was this the only one you wanted?” “everything was really expensive”
finds your bag and slips his black card in your wallet “shop to your hearts desire next time Princess”
showers you in praises
can’t help but fiddle with the lace “nice”
“you like it? it was supposed to be a surprise gift” he turns you toward a full body mirror and stands behind you hugging your waist “you’re stunning sweetie”
definitely taking you shopping to get more REAL SOON
wants to watch you model multiple sets now
[NSFW]
just looking at you already has his blood racing south you can feel his hard on pressing into your butt
“sweetie may I have my gift early?” he buries his face in your neck kissing and taking soft nips
rubs your pussy as he watches your reactions in the mirror, not letting his lips leave your neck
wants you to watch yourself in the mirror while he fingers you “look at how gorgeous you are”
wraps his other hand around your throat tilting your head back as your back arches making your tits look even better
has you cream (or squirt) on his fingers and sucks your juices off
grabs your wrist when you go to pull your soaked panties off “no keep it on, all of it”
pins you to the wall and hoist you up on his shoulders to eat you out
definitely gonna bend you over in front of the mirror; holding your arms behind your back telling you to keep your eyes on him in the mirror
peels you out of it once it’s significantly covered in his nut and your cream/juices
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moonjxsung · 3 days ago
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Kinktober Day 27: Studio Sex
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[kinktober masterlist.]
🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.
pairing: Bang Chan x reader
“Try it again, from the top this time.”
Chan lets out a heavy sigh, adjusting the black headphones he wears over his ears, as he listens for the beat. It chimes in the same way it has for the past hour you’ve been here, the downbeat of a drum echoing almost too loudly. The metronome starts up at the same time, clicking repeatedly like the second hands on the clock do. He glances at the time before he begins- this session was supposed to be over nearly 45 minutes ago. And then he sings into the microphone to the catchy tune, repeating the lyrics he knows by heart now, despite only having the sheet music for less than a day.
“Cut,” you say to him, chewing on the cap of your plastic ballpoint pen. “There’s something missing.”
“Well I’m not doing it again,” Chan huffs, cupping his hands around the headphones and removing them. He balances them on the music stand, pivoting around to gather his belongings, before exiting the recording booth once more.
“It sounds incomplete,” you voice. “We need something on the downbeat.”
“Not for the second chorus,” he replies frustratedly. “I told you a million times, that’s only for the first one.”
“But every time you pause, it sounds strange.”
“Then let it sound strange,” Chan finishes. A silence overtakes the room when he finishes speaking, his head hanging in shame you avert his gaze. He parts his lips to say something, before shaking his head, hoping you’ll break the silence first.
“You know,” you say to him quietly. “Of all the people I work with, you’re by far the most stubborn.”
“Yeah?” He scoffs, an irate expression in his tone. “Maybe we just have creative differences, then. I can’t say I’ve ever worked with someone as demanding as you.”
“Then find somebody else,” you reply, standing up from your swivel chair. “I’m done here.”
“Good.”
“Great!” You exclaim, gathering a stack of papers. “Good luck trying to find someone else with this late notice.”
Chan thinks it over momentarily, stopping to glance over his shoulder in your direction. He thinks of the song, and all the verses that remain unfinished, and about how he’ll be tasked with arranging the entirety of it in your absence. Which he could do- if he wasn’t already drowning in choreography lessons and meetings for the remainder of the month.
“Fine,” Chan says finally. “We can try it a different way. He cocks his head in the direction of the studio, gesturing to the door.
“Alright,” Chan voices plainly. “I’ll meet you in there.”
He’s the first to enter the recording booth again, slinging his bag off his shoulder and crossing his arms in front of the music stand that still houses a stack of sheet music. You trail in after him reluctantly, shutting the door behind you and doing your best to avert his gaze, before he begins to speak.
“Tell me what you suggest,” he says, shrugging in the direction of the stand. “And we can try that.”
“You need vocals on the downbeat,” you reply, pulling a ballpoint pen out from behind your ear and making a mark on the paper. “Something to lead into the chorus.”
Chan cocks his head as if in deep thought, and then he nods, thinking over your words briefly.
“I’ll get someone with a deeper voice to add something,” he says finally. “So that at least it’s different from my verse in the first chorus.”
He scribbles something out on the sheet music, making a note to add an alternate set of vocals where you’d suggested. And then he caps the ballpoint pen once more, before turning to you again.
“Anything else you want to suggest?” Chan queries, thumbing over the pen cap. His chest rises and falls with every annoyed breath he takes, trying his best not to make some snarky quip at you for keeping him so long.
“That’s it,” you say simply. “You’re free to go. I’m gonna stay here and get some work done.”
Chan observes as you assume a spot on one of the stools, peeling off your hoodie and slinging it over the music stand. You remain in just a thin white tank top, shuffling through your bag for your laptop, as he stays standing behind you.
“You’re… gonna stay here?” Chan asks, swallowing a lump in his throat. He can’t seem to avert his gaze from your top, his eyes scanning your chest, as you balance in the crook of your elbow.
“Yeah,” you reply, giving him a confused look. “I always stay after hours.”
“I could bring you dinner,” he blurts out suddenly, earning another confused look from you.
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When he doesn’t reply, you look up to catch him staring at you a little too intently. His expression softens when he pulls up a stool next to you, letting out an exasperated sigh, before speaking.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Chan voices. “I know we have our creative differences. But I don’t mean to come off as such a jerk.”
“Yeah, well, you do. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Your gaze finally meets his, well aware of how close he’s sitting to you now. His gaze flickers from your eyes, down to your lips, and back up again, swallowing nervously as he looks for the words to say.
“Let me make it up to you,” Chan says in a voice just above a whisper. He doesn’t wait for a response this time, simply leaning in to gauge your reaction. And when you don’t back away from him, leaning in as though he might indulge you in a secret, or some heartfelt apology.
“How, exactly?” You ask, a hint of teasing in your tone. And you’re not sure what exactly you’re expecting- but it’s certainly a surprise when he leans in to press his lips against yours, indulging you in a sweet, yet desperate kiss, before pulling away once more.
“What was that?” You say instinctively, not taking your gaze off his.
“I don’t know, I’m sorry-”
“Do it again,” you interject, and Chan’s lips pull into a smirk when he leans in again to kiss you a second time, this time much rougher than the first. His hands snake down to your waist, pulling you closer to him, and then you pull away breathlessly, as Chan’s brows furrow in confusion.
“What is it?” He asks, trying to steady his ragged breathing.
“I don’t know. It’s just…what if somebody sees us?”
Realistically, you know nobody is typically around the studio after hours like this- except for you, and sometimes Chan. But he stands up anyway, making his way to the studio door and peering out the glass window.
“The door’s locked,” Chan says, nodding in the direction of the door across the room. He reaches out to lock the door to the recording booth, too. And then he turns to look at you again when you make your way over to stand beside him.
Chan doesn’t say anything when you lean back against the glass window, folding your arms behind your back while you wait for him to make another move. And then he presses a hand to the glass above your standing figure, leaning down to graze his lips over yours.
“See?” Chan questions in a voice just above a whisper. “Nobody’s around.”
And then he kisses you, his muscular stature towering over yours as you wrap two arms around him and pull him even closer to you. The thought crosses your mind briefly, that this is the last thing you would’ve expected from the evening, having started off on the wrong foot since his arrival today. But you’re not mad about the way he snakes his arms down to caress the small of your back. And you especially can’t protest when his hands find their way to your thighs, where he hoists you up into his arms with ease, your legs wrapping around his lower back as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.
He ruts against you as his kisses turn rougher, the clear erection he sports beneath his sweatpants grazing your upper thighs with every slight movement. As he kisses you, he nibbles down the convex of your throat, leaving a generous trail of bruises as his heavy breaths swirl against your flesh. His labored breathing implies every desire to take you right here in the studio, and when his fingers trail along the waistband of his gray sweatpants, your heartbeat quickens in anticipation.
“Is this okay?” He asks, tugging his pants down to free his erection. His bulge pitches eagerly against his boxers as he awaits a reply, one hand trailing gently along the waistband of your shorts.
“Yes,” you breathe back, using one hand to skillfully unbutton your shorts and tug them down. He assists you in the process, letting them pool around your ankles, before looping one finger in the waistband of your panties to tug those down, too.
Once undressed, Chan frees his cock from his boxers, and you glance down briefly, your eyes widening at the sight. He’s much bigger than you’d anticipated, a bead of precum formed at his tip, as he wraps one hand around his base to stroke himself. His lips reattach to yours, stifled gasps making their way into your parted lips, as he guides himself against your entrance to position himself.
He doesn’t guide his cock inside just yet- instead, he rubs his moistened flesh along your aching clit in gentle back and forth motions, earning a fervent moan from you, as you wrap your legs tighter around him. He seems to hold his breath when he spreads your legs a little wider for him, and then he lets out a heavy groan when he finally pushes himself into you, slipping in with ease until he’s entirely bottomed out inside of you.
Your legs tremble when you feel the rhythmic pulse of his cock grazing your flesh, his lips pressing against yours desperately to stifle your almost pained gasps. And when your gasps quickly transition to moans, he begins to move finally, the pads of his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, as he thrusts into you with passionate movements.
“You like that?” Chan questions, earning an affirmative nod from you, whose lips part in overwhelming pleasure. Your nails dig into his back over his thin white t-shirt, and you can feel his broad back muscles tense beneath his shirt as he works himself in and out of you.
For a moment, all that fills the room are the sounds of his heavy grunts as he fucks you, and the fluid sounds of your tongues swirling against each other, a string of drool connecting to your lips when he pulls away momentarily. His fingers dip into your flesh deeper as he hoists you a little higher into his arms, the erotic sight of his protruding arm veins sending a chill down your spine when you take note of how effortlessly he carries you in his strong grasp.
An ebony strand of hair falls into his face, moistened by the beads of sweat that accumulate along his chiseled features, and you reach up to tuck it out of the way, placing a gentle kiss along his jawline.
“Is it okay if I admit I’ve been picturing you like this for the past hour?” Chan questions through labored breaths, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. His thrusts slow a little as he speaks, and you smile in response, kissing him softly before speaking.
“It’s only okay because I’ve been fantasizing about it, too.”
“Yeah?” Chan questions, wincing slightly when he feels his cock twitch inside of you. “What do you say we give this another try?”
You chuckle softly again, your walls contracting around his cock as he speaks, earning another groan from him.
“Give what a try?”
“Us,” Chan clarifies, nearing your parted lips to graze them gently with his own. “This. Let me take you out to dinner.”
“Why should I say yes?” You tease, and Chan practically interrupts you, a whimper escaping his lips.
“Because I’m about to finish inside of you,” he says, maintaining a serious expression on his face, as his thrusts pick up speed again.
You don’t reply this time, your eyebrows arched up in pleasure as he continues to fuck you, a loud squelching noise filling the studio space around you. It’s a lewd contrast to the repetitive tune that’s filled it for the past hour, and your nails dig into the shirt on his back when he grazes your cervix with every harsh thrust now, a string of cusses escaping his lips.
“Fuck,” he chants, his hands gripping the curves of your ass. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you so fucking good.”
You try to respond, practically unable to, as his lips find yours between his groans. And then he throws his head back in a blissful state of pleasure, his moans turning to whimpers as he fucks you through his orgasm, his hot load filling you and trickling down onto your upper thighs. The warmth of his cum triggers your own release, as your walls caress his girth, a series of pornographic moans filling the space when he begins to slow his thrusts.
It’s still several minutes before Chan finally pulls out of you again, as you both attempt to catch your breath, covered in a sheen layer of sweat and panting heavily. When he’s effectively pulled out again, he loosens his grasp of you, allowing you to find your balance on the carpeted floor, as you fish around for your clothes.
It’s silent as he dresses himself, pulling on his now stained sweatpants and adjusting the waistband of his cum-stained boxers. And then he chuckles lightly, before speaking again.
“So what do you say?” Chan asks, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.
“About what?”
“About this,” he clarifies again. “Let me take you out to dinner.”
You begin to say something, but then you don’t, simply dressing yourself fully and reaching for your bag again. Chan’s heartbeat quickens in his chest when he comes to the realization that you appear to be exiting the studio, turning around to face him again, a small smile on your face.
“You know,” you say to him, rolling your eyes sarcastically. “If there’s one thing I’m happy you’re stubborn about, it’s this.”
His lips pull into a satisfied smile, fidgeting with the string on his sweatpants, as he ponders a response.
“Get your song done,” you tell him, gesturing to the sheet music on the stand still. “And I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.”
*
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gremlingottoosilly · 2 days ago
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Monster!König whose first course of action after the monster uprising was to find his missing bunny wife!Reader who has no idea he even considered them married in the first place. König who is clueless when it comes to societal norms or concepts and learns about marriage through picking up conversations from scientists back when he was locked up. (Still doesn’t have the greatest grasp on it even after getting his hands on human books and media) Reader is just happy to be free from being used as a breeding machine and had no idea her cell?mate thought their relationship ran that deep and wants to get legally married now. :/
Some of the scientists laughed, calling you Konig's little bunny wife. A packmate, someone to get his stress dumped in so their captive monster could be less of a killing machine and more of someone who can actually be controlled and sated. Throw him a bitch with a leaky hole and whiny voice, and he'd be satisfied until the end of time. Konig doesn't like the sound of laughter that comes from the scientists, but he likes the word "wife" forced on you. Wife. Pretty, cute, adorable, small, and fragile thing that needs him to survive - it's basic biology. Needy bunnies like you can't survive in a world filled with humans and certainly can't do it in the new reality, where the strongest are getting all the cards. When Konig eventually gets out, he reads - to his surprise, really, and to the surprise of all of his comrades who would much rather burn everything the old rulers of their world have left. But Konig reads - romance novels, human courting rituals, the true meaning of the word wife and the word husband. He thinks of ways he can put together a wedding worthy of his precious little bunny - when he would finally get her with him, of course. He finds you, of course - it's not that hard to find a bunny in this shrunken world when he has almost all of the power he could have. A colonel in the monster forces, somewhat of a hero waiting for his mate to arrive - you're given to him as a gift from his comrades, a pack of soldiers eager to please their commander. Yes, the little bunny was crying and squirming in his grasp when she was delivered, but it's hardly his fault, is it? Konig just isn't quite sure on how to go about this whole marriage thing and what to do when your pretty wifey is desperately trying to get out of his grasp. He squeezes your throat a bit until you stop trashing in his hold and then spends the rest of the evening exploring your precious needy holes with his tentacles and his hands. God, he missed the feeling of your pussy clenching on his cock, desperate for him to release his seed. You're a bad little thing for denying him, but it's okay, he can work with that. He doesn't care if you're dumb or ungrateful - he will just press further, push his cock as deep into you as possible, squeezing your soft breasts until he swears the milk will come. He will have to breed you for this, of course - as thoroughly as possible until you can't help but cry and moan in his hold. Scientists never allowed him to actually dump his eggs in you, always afraid that he would get too possessive and territorial protecting his clutch and the pregnant mate - but oh, no one is there to stop him now. You would forget all about resisting in a bit - it would be much easier to push you around once you're getting the role of his pretty little wife, just like you were intended to.
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celestiamour · 2 days ago
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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ where he finds home ]❜
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ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel
╰₊✧ you and your daughter have managed to fall into a comfortable pattern of life with logan by your sides, but your ex shows up one night to stir up some trouble and the wolverine isn’t having any of it┊2.9k words; prt one, prt two (here), prt three (coming soon)
setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: hurt/comfort? mostly fluff, ooc logan probably, single mother reader with an unspecified age but still younger than logan, this chapter is mostly in your perspective, asshole exes, rushed ending what, but love confessions & getting together isn’t that cute
➤ author's note: alright, part two of the single mom! reader & her daughter!! the amount of support i’ve had on this was overwhelming, so sorry that this chapter isn’t on par with the first one, hopefully the next one will be better!
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ever since that night, logan found himself rarely going a single day without interacting with you or your daughter. he can’t explain the force that seems to pull him towards the two of you, but he can easily realize that the sheer magnitude of it overpowered the little voice in the back of his head spewing pessimistic comments about how this couldn’t possibly end well just like everything else in his life did. his little made-up rule not to get attached is thrown out the window every time he sees either of you, reminding him that one simply cannot fight against the impossible no matter how much of a hardened killing machine he used to be. how could he try to avoid these feelings when they seemed to fill the hole in his heart until it was bursting at the seams with affection as if it was as easy as the apple pie you sometimes baked to share?
besides, even if he tried to hide this rapidly growing fondness, it’s not like anyone would have let him: not when wade keeps on offering to babysit while you’re at work, not when your baby has picked up the habit of running up to him to ask for hugs or to be picked up, not when you’re a sight for sore eyes as you follow up in the evening in your formal attire and pearls to pick her up, and especially not when althea keeps asking you when you two are getting married with the claim that she doesn’t need sight to see the chemistry happening at the dinner table. 
you’ll laugh and brush it off as the old lady watching too many romance films in her free time, but your cheeks are secretly burning in embarrassment at how literally everyone can tell that you’re crushing like a high schooler in your grown age except for the subject of your fancy. 
logan himself is pretty difficult to read, but thankfully, his roommates are open-book, blunt to a fault, and willing to tell you anything and everything you need to know whether or not you even asked. for example, they confirmed he did indeed have a soft spot for you and your daughter, one that made them howl with laughter as they bully him relentlessly for it (feel free to tell them that they shouldn’t because he’s just being nice, they aren’t going to listen to you). he tries his best to refrain from swearing within earshot, not even under his breath on the off-chance she will hear it and pick it up. he fixes his appearance whenever he knows he’ll see you in an attempt to look more approachable. he never cares to listen to the ongoing conversations about other friends, but he’ll lean in a little closer if it’s about you. he even buys toys or stuffed animals on occasion because he thinks of her when he sees them.
you probably shouldn’t be thinking about these things during such a busy moment of your life when you’re focused on raising your daughter, getting that job promotion in the bag, and finally agreeing to take your ex to court for him to take responsibility by paying child support. although he’s as kind as a man who is as gruff and rugged as he can be, he’s still an older man (both chronologically and biologically) who is a mutant superhero with powers you were still unaware of. it’s not you questioning if he’s safe to be around, it’s you questioning if it’s in his best interest to have a family with all that going on (especially if he wanted to play father to a toddler who had no blood relation to him. playing uncle is one thing, but father? you can never be sure).
still, you would be lying if you said that seeing him being so tender and sweet with your daughter didn’t stir up a domestic image in your mind. a girl could only dream, right? 
recently, he’s been showing up at your doorstep with a toolbox in hand every other day. you’ve been complaining lately about how nothing under your roof seems to work anymore and every time you inform the landlord, you get a half-assed job that falls apart within the span of a week: the pipes are leaking, the windows refuse to open, the gas stove won’t start, and there are also other things you never got around to fixing yourself like a wobbly desk or putting together a little bed for your baby since she’s outgrown her crib.
the conversations usually go a little something like:
“oh, you really don’t need to—”
“no, no, i insist— it’s not like i have anything better to do, and i’ll do a much better job than whatever the fuck those maintenance men have been doing anyways.” he’ll purse his lips at the unintentional curse word which slipped and then push past you. “anyway, which windows have been giving you trouble?”
it takes him an hour maximum to work his magic, always leaving behind something fully functional and stable enough to last for years. you’ll compliment his handy skills and try to push a wad of cash into his hands, but he refuses it every single time. you can’t match his stubborn personality for more than a few minutes, so you’ll sigh and offer him to stay for dinner instead because you refuse to let him go home empty-handed after helping you out so generously. 
while you’re busy rummaging through your pantry and fridge for ingredients to cook something of varying degrees of complexity each time, your daughter will make an appearance to keep logan occupied because you refuse to allow anyone to enter your kitchen ever since that incident with wade. yes, he is more careful and mature, no, you’re not taking any chances. 
tonight, she’s playing forcing him to play with an assortment of dolls. he’s never done this before, and it looks so awkward to see a grown-ass six-foot-two man holding a little blonde barbie limply in his hand without any idea what the setting is or the storyline or the characters supposed to be played, but your girl was smiling and cheerfully babbling something barely legible every time he played along so he wasn’t about to complain about it. 
you hummed a tune while slicing thin slices of beef, completely on autopilot and enjoying the night of peace. the doorbell suddenly rang throughout your apartment and you rushed to wash off your hands before wiping them off with a dishrag, assuming it was one of his roommates. who else could the unannounced visitor be at eight-thirty in the evening?
the smile on your face immediately dropped when you saw the unusually unkempt appearance of your ex-fiancé, reeking of booze with his hair sticking out a little past his ears and rough stubble lining his jaw. before you could even say something, he rudely pushed past you and stood in the center of the unfamiliar space. maybe it was for the best since he definitely would have caused a massive commotion in the hallway and disturbed the neighbors who didn’t need to be subjected to your personal issues. your daughter had fallen silent and stared at him in a mix of confusion and something else that was unreadable yet clearly not joyous in any way. 
the entire world seemed to stop for a moment as you held your breath in anticipation of his next move, wondering if he was going to be amiable or (more likely) stir some trouble to disturb the peace. your eyes met with logan’s and you shifted your gaze to the hallway entrance for a split second to signal him to bring your daughter into her bedroom, sparing her the scare that would come when her father would inevitably lash out. 
he understood immediately and picked her up in a single swift motion, “come on, bub, it’s time to go to bed.” his hand rested her head on his shoulder and she appeared to be okay, just wide-eyed with her thumb in her mouth, almost as if she could recognize the gravity of the situation despite barely being able to comprehend such things. 
“it’s only been a few months, and you’re already living with another man…:
“it’s actually almost been a year, but what are you even doing here? i thought you had a wedding to plan.”
“... wedding’s been canceled…”
“aw, really?” you could already tell where this was going. althea told you plenty of times that once he saw how much better you were doing without him while his life quickly tumbles down a slope, he would come crawling back. she made you promise on your life that you wouldn’t take him back no matter what, whether he begged on his knees promising he’ll be better or revealed he was the new ceo of amazon with riches beyond your imagination. you didn’t quite understand her concerns because the thought of it never crossed your mind once, but she just tutted and reminded you that love was unpredictable before revoking her statement when she remembered you wouldn’t get back together with your ex when the wolverine was on the table.
“she was seeing someone else…”
“well, well, well, you know what they say, ‘karma’s a bitch.’ it’s about time you got a taste of your own medicine, you cheating bastard.”
he took a step towards you and you flinched in response, making the other man standing in the shadows straighten his posture. he was never physically abusive, but you had no idea how he would behave under the influence. “you know she was the reason everything fell apart…”
“oh, don’t try to pin the blame on her when you were the one who was about to get married and you were the one who made the choice to abandon her family. good on her for leaving, and you should do the same.”
“do you ever think there would be anyone who would love you like i did? i was your first, and there isn’t anyone else who would take you as is. hell, i don’t even think the other guy will be around for much longer—”
“alright, i’ve had enough of this.” logan came forward from his spot in the shadows, getting closer to your ex until he was clearly intimidated by his looming figure and threatening aura. it’s the first time you’ve seen such a dangerous edge to him, yet strangely enough, you still felt safe knowing he was acting in your defense (if it was any other man, you probably would have kicked them both out before it could escalate). “get out of here.”
“can’t believe this,” he spat, turning his head to look back at you, “you bitch—”
he grunted at the insult, feeling more pissed off about it being directed at you rather than him, promptly throwing a punch into his face and gripping onto his collar before he could stumble over. an unfamiliar *schlikt* sound was heard before your eyes managed to process the long metal claws mere inches away from gouging out your ex’s eyes, making you gasp quietly in shock.
“okay! okay! i’m leaving!”
“i’ll escort you out,” he growled, still not letting go of him as he shoved him out of the door and closed it behind him, wanting to make sure that he would never come to bother you like this ever again and also drag him to apartment security to ensure they understood not to let him in ever again. 
then once he was gone, logan stood outside in the slight cold for a moment wondering what to do next. he just revealed his true nature to you that he’s been trying so hard to suppress: violent and animalistic. he should just prepare to hear you say that you are now scared of him, that you would prefer it if he didn’t come over anymore and to stay away from you and your daughter. 
the worst part is that he can’t even blame you, and a part of him feels like this was for the best. he was stupid to hope for a peaceful domestic with two human civilians when he was a mutant through and through. still, his heart drops at the thought of your eyes looking at him with fear rather than the usual caring, gentle look that made him forget all of his pain.
there was more impending doom weighing on him as he stalked up the stairs than there ever was for certain death missions.
his hyper-sensitive hearing easily picked up the sound of a baby crying, one that he immediately recognized as your daughter’s. he slowed his pace to hear you trying desperately to calm her down.
“oh, oh, shh, i know, i know,” you sighed, “god, logan, please hurry back…” he practically ran when he heard that, bursting through the door and rushing into the nursery which was in the process of being turned into a proper bedroom. there were slight tears pricking at your eyes when you looked at him, “sorry, can you put her to sleep? s-she won’t stop crying…”
“it’s okay, it’s okay, i got it,” he assured, taking her off your hands and soothingly patting her on the back, “please stop crying, you’re breaking your momma’s heart.”
after a minute or so, her high-pitched wails gradually quieted down, falling asleep in his strong arms and allowing him to place her in her little bed which was newly constructed by him just a few days ago. you led him out of the room, being careful not to make any sudden noises so as to not wake her again, and returned to the living room where it all started.
“i’m sorry you had to do all that,” you groaned, placing a palm on your forehead in a poor attempt to ease the forming headache. “i really don’t know what i would have done without you…”
“don’t apologize, i’m happy to help… but i completely understand if you don’t want to see me ever again…” he wasn’t sure why he brought it up when you didn’t even say anything about it, but perhaps he wanted to get the inevitable over with because this conversation would have happened sooner or later.
“what? why would i never want to see you again when you just saved me from my ex?” you asked, genuinely confused as you moved to pour out two glasses of wine and plopped down onto the couch with your head thrown back. “is it because of the claws? i don’t really care about that stuff— i mean wade runs around with at least one knife and gun on him at all times. besides, it’s not like you can’t control them, they only came out because you were trying to protect me…”
“well, yes, but—”
“logan, i really don’t care that you’re a mutant or a former killer or whatever— you’re a superhero who runs around in yellow spandex, fights evil, and is the only one who can get my daughter to sleep most of the time— i trust you.”
“... you do?”
“of course, i do,” you reach out and motion him to join you, leaning against his frame and feeling all of your stress dissipate at the contact. “i trust you with my life and you’ll always have a home here, i want you to know that..”
logan was silent for a moment, trying to remember the last time he heard words along those lines. “i don’t know if you mean that…”
“of course, i do, why wouldn’t i? although…”
“although?”
“i… i don’t think i could handle being just friends for much longer.” you cringed at your own words, sounding like a fucking teenager who was confessing to her first love. something straight out of a cheesy romance movie, or as deadpool would say, straight out of a fanfiction written by a lonely teenager who is trying to move the plot along and finish up. “god, that was so stupid—”
“well, no one said we had to be ‘just friends.’”
you looked at him ludicrously, “really? do you mean that?”
“i mean… if you’re okay with an old man who has adamantium claws in his knuckles…”
“are you okay with a lady who’s a single mom?”
“i think mine is a lot worse than that. sweetheart,” he chuckled, returning to the light-hearted tone. “so… does that mean i can kiss you?” 
you hummed, “of course, you can.”
even with your spoken consent, he still seemed a little hesitant when his hand found its way to the back of your head and he stared deeply into your eyes. his gaze was honestly a bit overwhelming since you’ve never seen anyone else look at you that way before, making you wonder if this was how to felt to be truly desired as a person.
you leaned forward to finish the kiss for him, a quick peck at first, then a deeper one that carried all of the bottled-up feelings from the previous few months. it wasn’t anything too crazy, yet it felt like your very first kiss all over again, clumsy and inexperienced. when you finally separated from him, you pressed your nose against his and giggled, “spend the night?”
“i thought you would never ask.”
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tag list: @natsukitakama @fandomxo00 @wolflover-20 @dannsparrow @honestlysublimecherryblossom @acescutejeans-1247 @burkayyy @hotmesshobbit
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stvrnioloslvt · 2 days ago
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quiet - Chris Sturniolo
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fratboy!chris × jealous!reader
(dividers from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more)
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disclaimer: the following content is not suitable for an underage audience. please, if you are a minor do not interact in any way or form. thank you. check the trigger warning before reading, enjoy!
t.w: inappropriate language, unprotected sex (don't), a tiny bit of degrading language, jealousy, alcohol, I think nothing more.
a.n: soo...i'm impatient. i had planned to post this story on the 31st, once the poll ended, but i really don't like to wait that much. however, the results are clear: chris smut won with the 52.9%!
when you spot your boyfriend chris flirting with another girl at the Halloween party, you decide to take the matter in your hands and make him jealous thanks to matt. what you don't know, is that chris is keeping a close eye on you.
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“i really don’t wanna go to this stupid party, nick.”
“i know, but you know what?” nick put his hands on my shoulders, a gentle yet firm grip. he looked at me in the eyes, then said “at least you look hot as fuck, and that’s all that matters. walk through those doors as if your pussy is made out of gold, and see what happens.”
i smiled at my best friend. with new-found confidence, i walked towards the doors, swaying my hips in my skimpy DCC cheerleaders white shorts that left nothing to the imagination. nick followed right through, adjusting the fake fangs in his mouth. he was one hell of a hot vampire. 
as we entered the halloween-decorated fraternity of our college, we were immediately pulled aside by matt, who was waiting for us right at the entrance. blue and purple lights caressed his face, creating weird shadows all around.
“fuckin’ finally! what took you so long?”
“are your eyes actually open? don’t you see how hot we both look? good things are always the last to arrive.” i chuckled as nick pulled me in a side hug to prove a point to his brother.
i eyed matt up and down one last time. even in the weird colored lights, i noticed that something was off. “wait, why aren’t you dressed up?” 
“cause i’m getting the fuck out of here, i was waiting for you two just because i don’t want to leave chris here under the influence without one of us to check on him.”
“he’s already drunk?”
“yeah, you surprised?”
i looked around, trying to find that dumb-fuck, with no luck. 
“c’mon, let’s get the party started!” nick grabbed my hand, pushing through the crowd of sweaty and dressed up people to get us to the drinks.
“do you want to drink anything?” he screamed loud enough for me to understand him over the blasting music. i shook my head, still trying to find chris. i picked at my skin, worry eating me alive: where the fuck was he? he was drunk, what if he did something stupid, or worse, dangerous?
then, i spotted him: hidden in the corner of the room with some random girl, running his hand through his hair held back by the headband of his basketball player costume. she was talking about something, and i could see clearly the strand of blonde hair that he was playing with twirling in his hand as he leaned on the wall, with the cocky grin of someone who believes that he has the world at his feet.
i felt a wave of nausea hit me, hands shaking by my sides. 
nick followed my gaze, spotting his brother. his hand stopped midway, the red cup never reaching his lips. “no way…” he whispered. weirdly enough, i heard that. 
just as i was ready to leave everything and get the fuck out of there, nick stopped me.
“let me go, nick, i don’t want to spend another second here.”
“absolutely not.”
“nick, please.” tears pricked at my eyes, making it hard for me to keep them back.
“i can bet you a hundred bucks right now that he’s trying to work you up. two can play that stupid game, y/n, and you've got plenty of people who've been eyeing you up and down since we arrived. go out there and get him back."
i took a napkin, drying my tears before they could fall and ruin my makeup.
an idea popped up in my mind. i turned towards the door, spotting matt, ready to leave.
"nick, quick, how mean would it be if i took revenge with matt?"
"honestly? a lot", he begun, pulling out his phone, dialling matt's number. "but you know what? i support women's rights as well as women's wrongs. go do your thing, baby."
we watched as matt picked up the phone, turning towards us. nick told him to come to us before he left, and so he did.
"matt, go and dance with y/n. don't ask questions, we'll explain everything later."
matt looked at me with a puzzled look on his face, but he didn't complain when i pulled him through the crowd, right in the middle of the room.
"i'm sorry, matt, just a little payback to your dumb brother."
i briefly explained to him what happened, what we saw, and nick's idea, so that he knew what was actually happening.
"you know what? i need a tiny bit of alcohol in me, then we can truly give chris payback."
i watched as one of his friends brought him a red cup. he gulped it down, waiting for the alcohol to hit.
and when it did, we had the best night ever: we laughed, danced, twirled together. soon enough, everyone's eyes were on us, some were judging, others having fun with us. at a certain point i might have drunk something too, cause i found myself grinding against matt. and god knows how private we actually are around each other in our daily life.
i felt matt's hands travelling up my sides, pushing his hips against mine, making me feel his erection. i threw my head back against his shoulder as he placed wet kisses down my neck, hands squeezing me closer to him. soft breaths came out of my parted lips, losing myself in the moment: maybe it was the alcohol, or the music, or the knowledge that everyone does some dumb shit during halloween night and then act the next day like nothing happened, but i had a strong urge to grab him and kiss him, to feel his lips dance on mine, our bodies so close one another that they physically couldn't get closer.
just as i turned around, intoxicated enough to actually kiss him, a strong hand pulled me away from my friend.
"wha-" i turned around, welcomed by the sight of a pissed off chris: jaw clenched, eyes fixed on a spot in front of him, dragging me around the room, elbowing whoever dared to step in front of him.
i tried to free myself from his grip, pulling and tugging with all my might, but he didn't even bulge a tiny bit. "where the fuck do you think you are taking me-"
"quiet."
"chris i swear-"
"shut the fuck up," he growled. he dragged me up the stairs, stopping in front of a door. he opened it and pushed me inside.
he locked the door behind me, pushing me against it. his lips immediately found mine, kissing me roughly. it was an angry kiss, a forceful one. it was screaming vendetta, jealousy, hurt.
i tugged at his hair as his tongue made its way in my mouth. his hands gripped my hips, so hard that i was sure they would leave marks. he hooked his hand under my knee, pushing my leg up and around his waist. i tiptoed with the other leg, trying to gain a bit of height.
chris pressed his erection right against my pussy, grinding slightly to tease me.
"chris," i moaned, every little noise swallowed by his lips.
"such a whore," he growled, lifting me up. both my legs wrapped around his waist to steady myself, as my back hit the door behind me. from this new position, i could feel his tip pushing right at my entrance.
"you really had to go all out and fuck my brother, didn't you? such a needy slut."
"the only slut here is you, flirting with that little friend of yours."
he snorted, clearly pissed off at my comeback.
"you really have no idea of what is coming, ma."
chills ran down my spine at that threat, at his dark voice and blown out pupils. he had the look of someone ready to eat you alive, and that was probably his intent.
"how pathetic," he mumbled before ripping apart the tight fabric of my shorts, leaving me completely bare.
i gasped, trying to pull away. "my shorts!"
"oh please," he started, "they were covering nothing. you could walk out there like this and no one would notice the difference."
he pressed me harder against the door as he pulled down his pants, just enough for his dick to spring out.
"hope matt got you wet enough," he chuckled ironically, then pushed himself right in, to the brim.
a chocked out moan left my lips, as chris started thrusting fast and hard inside me.
"oh chris- fuck."
"yeah? feels good? bet matt couldn't fuck you like i do."
i threw my head against the door while i clawed at his back, his jersey stopping me from leaving marks all over his back.
"ngh- so big, chris...please," i whimpered, trying to adjust to his size and rhythm. chris's lips attached to my neck, leaving kisses all around. as his mouth travelled down to my cleavage, he started to bite and nip at my skin, making sure that it would bruise.
"fuck-," he pulled out, quickly putting me down and bending me over the desk right by the door. whose room was that, again?
he pushed himself right in again, gripping my hips. he pounded into me so hard that the desk was banging against the wall with every thrust.
the room filled with the sound of our bodies slapping together, moans and groans as the music resonated faintly.
"such- a whore, fuck!" i felt him shudder; his hand flew quickly at the base of his cock, squeezing slightly to prevent himself from cumming yet.
"you're fuckin'mine, got that? mine."
one hand grabbed my asscheek, slapping it right after. and then again, and again, until i was left trembling and crying, overstimulated from the pleasure and pain that he was inflicting me.
his thrusts grew sloppy and unsteady as he approached his release. "chris, please, please, i wanna cum so bad" i sniffled, gripping the desk until my knuckles turned white to ground myself.
"no."
"please-"
"you can hold it. you're not cumming until i tell you to."
i bit my hand lightly, trying to focus on his orders. but it was just so hard, and he was fucking me just so good, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, that i knew i couldn't last for much longer.
a low guttural moan escaped from chris's lips as my walls clenched around him hard, pushing both of us even closer to our orgasms.
with a particular deep thrust, he tipped over the edge, spilling inside me, filling me with his hot cum. he groaned relieved as he thrusted slow and soft inside me, riding the waves of his climax.
i screamed, unable to contain my orgasm anymore, shaking as i came down from my high. i whimpered, laying down on the desk, the cool wood making me shiver all around.
"good job, ma," he whispered, stroking my back and kissing my shoulder. "such a good girl f'me, hm?"
his arms wrapped around my waist, helping me up. i leaned into him, grabbing his jersey for support.
"was i too rough?" i shook my head, leaning back to look at him in the eyes. a question bursted out, unable to stay put anymore.
"who was that girl?" chris looked taken back by the sudden question, but he had no problem answering. he shrugged, "i have no idea, i just wanted to work you up. you always give your best with angry sex."
i looked at him flabbergasted, ready to actually pick up a fight. "chris i swear-"
"shush mamas, let's get you something to actually cover up, hm? don't wanna go out there covered in marks and with no pants on, right?"
「 ★ ★ ★ 」
yk what i should fly to the USA just to experience Halloween the American way, that shit seems so much fun i swear.
hope you enjoyed it! happy, spooky Halloween everyone!
love y'all,
-bree🎃🦇
MASTERLIST
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jihyoruri · 3 days ago
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❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 TEENAGE DIRTBAG kang haerin x reader
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↳ warnings yn is a member of baby monster, a continuation of bad influence, minji’s blood pressure going higher and higher, yn is still her cocky self
if you were to say yn was a bad influence on haerin, haerin herself would probably disagree with you.
but minji wouldn’t.
“where are you going now?” hanni asked from the couch beside minji, watching as haerin strolled to the door with a slightly distracted look, clearly preoccupied with something or rather, someone.
“oh, just…out,” haerin mumbled, slipping her shoes on and avoiding eye contact.
“again?” minji raised an eyebrow, barely able to hide her disapproval. “that’s like, what, the third time this week?”
haerin shrugged, mumbling something about yn wanting haerin to come watch her while she records a song for baby monsters new album, though her excuse sounded weak even to her.
before minji could press further, haerin was out the door, leaving minji staring after her, hands clenching into fists.
hanni chuckled beside her. “relax, minji. they’re just friends.”
minji huffed, crossing her arms. “friends don’t act like that, this teenage dirtbag is ruining haerin.”
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the next few days were more of the same, haerin and yn, inseparable, attached at the hip. and it was driving minji insane.
one day, minji and danielle were taking a walk near the dorm when minji spotted haerin and yn sitting on a bench. haerin had her hand on yn’s shoulder, leaning in close as they looked at something on yn’s phone. haerin laughed at whatever yn showed her, leaning even closer, almost whispering in her ear.
“hey!” minji called out, unable to stop herself.
haerin looked up, startled, but yn only gave minji a little wave, a smirk dancing on her lips. “hey, minji unnie! hey danielle,”
danielle waved back, but minji simply narrowed her eyes, folding her arms over her chest.
“are you two glued together or something?” minji asked, trying to keep her tone light but failing miserably.
yn chuckled, not at all fazed. “haerin and I were just watching the video I took during my recording, you know just looking for flaws.”
minji rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath, “looking for flaws, sure…” that’s rich coming from yn the most egotistical person alive.
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later that week, minji was returning from a late practice when she saw yn and haerin in the kitchen, apparently in the middle of a late night snack raid. yn had her arm slung casually around haerin’s shoulder as they rummaged through the fridge, giggling over some inside joke that minji clearly wasn’t part of.
she cleared her throat, causing both girls to jump.
“again?” minji deadpanned, crossing her arms as she watched them. “don’t you both have curfews?”
yn grinned. “curfews are suggestions, right?”
haerin stifled a giggle, nudging yn. “yeah, totally.”
minji glared. “some of us actually like to follow the rules, you know.”
yn shrugged, unaffected. “guess we’re the fun ones then.”
haerin smirked at that, causing minji’s irritation to bubble up even more. but before she could say anything else, yn grabbed haerin’s hand, dragging her out of the kitchen with a, “come on, let’s go!”
minji watched them leave, her mouth half open in disbelief.
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the next morning, minji was on her last straw when she heard loud laughter coming from haerin’s room. she stomped down the hall, finding haerin and yn practically tangled together on her bed, laughing over something on haerin’s laptop.
“oh, hey, minji,” yn greeted, not moving an inch. “we were just watching this hilarious drama. wanna join?”
minji’s eye twitched. “I think you’ve spent enough time here, don’t you?”
yn only smiled, shifting closer to haerin. “actually, I was just about to stay the night.”
“what?” minji looked at haerin, who only shrugged with an innocent grin.
“we were doing a movie marathon,” haerin explained, but her sheepish expression did little to ease minji’s suspicions.
danielle, who had wandered in to see what the noise was about, laughed at the look on minji’s face. “minji, they’re just friends! chill.”
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it wasn’t until one particularly intense night, when haerin had yet again vanished with yn, that minji finally snapped.
it was around midnight when she heard soft giggles coming from haerin’s room. she threw open the door, ready to give them a piece of her mind—
only to freeze, eyes widening.
there, in the dim light of haerin’s room, yn and haerin were pressed close, lips locked in a kiss, minji gasp out loud.
both girls jumped apart, startled by the sudden intrusion. haerin’s face flushed a deep red, while yn seemed to dazed to care
“minji unnie!” haerin yelped, clearly mortified.
minji’s mouth opened and closed, caught somewhere between shock and fury. finally, she pointed an accusatory finger at yn. “you!”
yn just smirked, shrugging casually like it was no big deal, which only made haerin nudge her, eyes wide with mortification.
minji, unable to hold back any longer, marched over and grabbed yn’s wrist, yanking her up and away from haerin’s bed. “that’s it. I’m calling ruka unnie, and she’s taking you home. now.”
“oh, come on—” yn started, but minji shot her a look that could melt steel, silencing her.
dragging yn out of the room, minji paused at the doorway to throw one last, scathing glare over her shoulder. “and you,” she said to haerin, her tone low and foreboding. “we are talking later.”
the door slammed shut, leaving haerin groaning as she flopped back onto her bed, covering her face in utter embarrassment.
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bigandgreedy · 10 hours ago
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There are so many different exciting aspects of pregnancy. I personally feel like the gender of the baby is a special surprise and I would want to find out on the delivery date.
Pregnancy is so beautiful and such a joy and yet still very scary and dangerous. Women with the best medical care in the world still have to worry about giving birth bc no one is guaranteed a safe delivery!
Pregnancy is supposed to be a happy and beautiful time and yet for Palestinian women it is more terrifying than anything. Knowing you have to give birth in dangerous and unsanitary conditions and bring your child into a world of immediate trauma and danger. Even when the delivery goes well the baby can never be safe until your family escapes the genocide.
I’ve told you all Ahmed Alanqar’s story of trying to get his family to safety. I also mentioned that his condition is so bad that his wife has had to take over the fundraiser and caring for him and the children.
Dina recently gave birth and she should be relaxing and celebrating and yet every day she has her feet to the fire trying to provide necessities and get out of Gaza. Keep the kids as happy and calm and fed as possible in the middle of a genocide and famine. In addition to her newborn she has 3 other very young adorable children to worry about.
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I’ve asked her what the market for necessities is like these days and she sent me this.
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$90 for 30 diapers? Can you imagine? Americans with good jobs can still struggle to keep up with the cost of diapers because of how quickly babies go through them. I seriously cannot begin to imagine one day in her life. I get overwhelmed so easily I think I would become unable to function. She doesn’t even have that choice to lay low and let what happens happen. She needs to wake up every day and try to make this work for her husband and her babies. Make them as comfortable as possible and try to secure enough food for them to be able to sustain the functions of their growing bodies.
We need to do everything we can to help. Please don’t see them as a statistic. They are a family just like yours or mine. The Alanqar family has already been vetted by @/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi on their vetted fundraiser list #264)
https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/O/d/%201yYkNp5U3ANwIL%7C2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfz%0AR8100/htmlview%2523gid=0&range=B225
If you're not able to donate sharing this post would mean a lot to them and me as well :) their link is below
Im just going to tag some of my following list hopefully some of you see this.
@misspiggyforvogueitalia @boag @sluttynurse
@omegaversereloaded @mongoliassweetheart @jpegm4fia @fatasselmerfudd
@brotherblasphemous @1dietcokeinacan @grox @ihavebangs @belloochie
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Heyyy so if you’ve been around here long enough and payed attention to some of my hints about future posts so here you go!
🦭🌊Silkie au🦭🌊
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So Danny with Jazz are looking through some old family books while Jack and Maddie are at a ghost Hunter convention or something and after like 30 minutes of this Danny finds a very old book, Danny and Jazz weren’t going to read it but the title and a note on the front got there attention
The title itself looks like it was scratched out and is unreadable but the note on the front says ‘For future generations of the Nightingale family’ while Danny is a bit confused about who the Nightingale family is but Jazz looks intrigued and when Danny asks her to explain Jazz says that the Nightingales were their dads OG family name so now their both interested in this book
So they read it and find out that their blood line from their dads side is full of silkie blood and that the ones who found this out hid it from the others in the family and next to the book was a box with a integrate design of seals and waves marked out by silver -{ Plot Convenience }- and as they open it they find three pelts, two fit them perfectly but there is a anther one that is much MUCH smaller than theirs and they just think is was a old relatives and just keeps it in the box
And a few weeks later they are still trying to figure out what to do with this stuff but they hid the book under Jazz’s bed under some extra blanket she keeps under there and his the box under Danny’s bed behind of some old stuff so that if Maddie or Jack find something under one of their beds they don’t find the rest and it was easier from them due to their parents being tired from the Conversation and not really paying attention to what they were doing
But they had to put plans on hold for what to do as Jazz was going to go look at some colleges that she may want to attend for a few days so she leaves but not before she and Danny take out a piece from the portal so they don’t have any emergency’s while Jazz is gone and can’t help
And while Jazz is gone, Maddie and Jack catches Danny changing from ghost to human and Maddie knocks him out and Jack brings him down to the lab and while Maddie is getting things ready for the experiments and stuff, Jack is putting on the restraints and that’s when Danny wakes up and he start to move and get out while pleading for them to let him go and that’s when Maddie and Jack do what the people here in the Dc x Dp love to do traumatize the fuck out of this boy 
And a few days before Jazz is supposed to came back Dani goes to the Fenton home so jazz and Danny can explain what they wanted to ( they texted her saying they wanted to tell her something very important because since she’s Danny’s clone daughter and has his DNA she should have some silkie blood in her and want her opinion on this ) so when she doesn’t see Danny Mama and that’s when Maddie finds her and knocks her out like she did with Danny
As jazz comes home and sees an empty house she just thinks Danny is out with Sam and tuck and her parents are doing something and as she just abouts finishes unpacking she hears a wail and cries that she recognizes as Danny’s voice and big sister instincts ( and a bit of silkie instincts ) kick in and she goes running to the lab
She finds Danny pined down to the table and Dani’s body next to him her body looks like it is going to destabilize any second and that’s when Maddie and Jack notices her and they all start to fight and Jazz manages to knock out her parents and get Danny out of his restraints and he goes to Dani but not before grabbing one of the ecto injections and helping her but due to the damage Jack and Maddie did, she de-ages to about a 1-2 year old
And now that Dani isn’t going to die, Danny and jazz start running to their rooms so they can grab the box and book and some money because they can’t really grab to many things to where their going and run out of the house to a bus stop at the edge of town, where no one goes but buses still stop and they get on and they do this a few more times until they are at a port town and managed to get on one of the fairies is going to a remote island where there is only about 70 people total and as they get there they hide until it is late at night so no one sees them
And they open the box and wrap the pelt around them and little Dani and as they do a pod of seals come closer to them and start making noises almost like their call them back into the water, back home…
And as they start to walk into the water and swim to the pod they know they made the right decision and maybe they can be around humans again
Someday…
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And now onto the DC part of this thing!
So while on a mission to a remote fishing island because something the fishermen seeing at night and Damian was sent out because the Batfam got mad at him due to him seriously injuring a mugger who was injuring a small animal and now he’s here
As he walks around the island it is around 1 in the morning he notices some sounds around a part of the island no one goes to due to sharp rocks around and as he climbs down that’s when he sees them a seal and their pup swimming around until a large wave causes by one of the boats in the water hit the pup and send them up on the beach and almost immediately Damien goes to help the pup back into the water back to their mother who is swimming close and watching him help their pup
And as he puts the pup back into the water they swim back to their mother and he calls this a good day
The next day around that area he comes back and sees the mother and pup again who seem happy to see him
And this goes on for a few days until a few days before he’s supposed to go back to Gotham he goes to the area to see the mother-pup duo and that’s when he sees them a person around his age with a toddler around 1-2 years old as he is standing there he makes eye contact with the person and…he recognizes those eyes as the mothers eyes and they smile at him as the little girl who he now knows as the little seal pup and runs up to him and holds her arms up expectantly and who is he to deny her so he picks her up and walks over to the mother and now that he is closer he notices the brownish red seal that sometimes came around this here but as a very tall woman who looks to be 18-19 or very early 20s
And they explain who they are ( while Damian is internally simping over the pretty silkie boy, Damian called dips this is his beloved now ) and what brought them here and stuff and Damian makes it his mission to protect them ( and get into a relationship with the pretty boy ) so he stays for a bit longer than the OG mission needed too but the Batfam sent him here so they didn’t have to deal with his actions so if here for a bit longer why would they care
Meanwhile, at the Batcave : running around the headless chickens trying to find out why there youngest isn’t coming back in Gotham when he should have
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And now on to the details!
For Danny’s I’m thinking something like this
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And for his pelt
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Mixed with this
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-{ I refuse to believe Danny isn’t a dramatic ass bitch when it comes to fashion }-and here is the hair I’m thinking for him
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And for Jazz I’m thinking this
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And for her pelt this is what I’m thinking
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And hair
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And that’s it! This is inspired my the movie “Song of the sea” that movie has me in a chokehold anyway I hope you guys like it -{ also tumblr kinda kicked me out well I was writing this so if some part are weird that’s why}- Byeeeee
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dreamsteddie · 3 days ago
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Steve and Eddie childhood friends is my kryptonite.
They meet in the woods outside Steve's house when they're eight and nine years old. Steve is out exploring because his parents are fighting again, something about a secretary and a jazzercize instructor that Steve really doesn't understand or want to listen to. He's done it before, venturing outside to explore the forest like it's his own private world. They never notice when they're fighting like that anyway and Steve always finds his way back.
Eddie, on the other hand, is new to Hawkins. He's nine years old and was just dumped on his uncle's front porch because his dad "doesn't need some brat who cries when the wires spark." Eddie was heartbroken and mad and scared and he loved his uncle Wayne but he didn't want to be comforted so he ran into the woods, Wayne too slow to catch him but calling his name.
After running a while Eddie trips on a root falling on his hands and knees, blood slowly blooming from his palms. He looks up and realizes he has no idea which way he came from or how to get back and releases all the tears he kept locked up tight since that night with the car.
That's how Steve finds him. He makes his way over, calling softly to the boy crouched by his favorite tree. The boy looks up, and the first thing Steve thinks is that he looks a little funny. His head is shaved down and his eyes are a little buggy and he's lanky in a way Steve's never really seen before. His second thought is that he always keeps bandaids in his shorts.
Together they sloppily patch up Eddie's knee and left palm, Steve pressing a smacking kiss to the other boy's knee like he's seen the other moms do for their kids at the park. They introduce themselves and Steve takes him to all his favorite places in the woods. They play knight and dragon and talk about how mean dads are until the sun starts to set.
Eddie gets nervous when the sun starts to set, not used to the unique darkness of the woods, but Steve is used to it. He takes Eddie by the hand and asks him where he entered and guides him home. Wayne finds them like that, he's clearly been doing his own forest wanderings in his search for Eddie and is quick to sweep his nephew into his arms and hold him close. Edde excitedly introduces his uncle to his "new best friend, Steve," his mood lifted significantly since that morning.
Steve waves goodbye and slips away before Wayne can insist on taking him home in the truck, but that's far from the last they see of Steve. After that night, every time Steve's parents get in a fight or his parents go to one of their long, important business dinners without him he makes his way through the woods and to the Munson trailer. The first time it happens Wayne doesn't even know what to say. Steve looks every bit the little Harrington that he is with his little Khakis and perfectly pressed polo knocking on the trailer door all proper-like.
"Hello, I'm here to see Eddie. He's my best friend."
Before Wayne can figure out what to say there's a blur of oversized black hand-me-down clothes barrelling through the door and tackling the younger boy to the ground.
"STEVE!" Eddie absolutely screeches. Wayne is half worried he might take out one of the kid's eardrums, but seeing the wide smile Eddie has plastered on his face, Wayne decides not to say anything.
From there on Steve and Eddie are thick as thieves. Steve spends all his free time at the Munson trailer playing with Eddie and the stray animals. Despite some of Wayne's concerns, their friendship remains strong through the years. With Eddie in the grade above and the grades almost completely separated, they hardly get to interact at school, which only serves to fuel Eddie's disdain and Steve's disinterest in school. Middle school is much the same. They spend almost every waking moment together in the woods or in the trailer but live almost separate lives at school. It's not even that they're trying to hide it, it just never comes up.
When Steve starts climbing up the social ladder it isn't intentional at all. He doesn't have a lot of friends in his grade, certainly not any that come close to Eddie's status in his life, so he kind of just talks to everybody. He plays on the middle school basketball and baseball teams and does well, and before he knows it people are suddenly flocking around him and vying for his attention. He doesn't pay it much mind honestly.
Eddie on the other hand never fits in anywhere. Steve and Wayne are just about the only people in his life he cares about, and despite their overwhelming love and acceptance he can't help but turn out cynical. He struggles with anger management those first few years with Wayne, frustrated with being abandoned by his dad and separated from Steve and it all culminates in him being ostracized from his peers.
It isn't until high school that the rest of Hawkins clues into what's been in front of their faces the entire time. The high school is much less separated so while they won't be sharing any classes, there are many more opportunities for them to hang out.
On day one of Steve's freshman year he's already on the roster for both the basketball team and the swim team and there's already a small group of boys hanging around his locker ready to ride his coattails. They notice Steve seems distracted, turning his head back and forth when he's not struggling to get the lock undone. When he finally manages to wrestle the thing open, Eddie makes his move.
In a move reminiscent of that first day on Wayne's front porch, a blur of black second-hand clothes and dark curls barrels into Steve from the side taking him down to the linoleum floors. The guys around Steve's locker are ready to step in and beat this guy to a pulp until they hear raucous laughter coming from the both of them. They are treated to the sight of rising King Steve and established Freak Munson rolling around on the floor like unruly puppies and don't know what to do with themselves.
When the boys calm down and stand up, arms slung comfortably around each other's shoulders, they're met with the very confused faces of Steve's kind-of-friends.
"You know this guy Steve?"
"You and Munson are friends?"
"What the fuck was that?"
Steve and Eddie share a very confused look, neither of them having realized that people have no idea they're friends. They look back at the guys with two devastating "are you dumb" faces and say:
"Uh, yeah, Duh."
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Years down the line, after queer awakenings, a healthy dose of heartache for them both, and a properly dramatic star-lit confession Eddie and Steve both absolutely love regaling anyone who will listen with their love story. Steve insists that he knew from the moment Eddie looked at him with those big bug eyes that he would love Eddie Munson for the rest of his life. Eddie, on the other hand, insists that's bullshit and instead insists that he was the one who fell first "it doesn't count if you were a child Sevie you didn't understand what love was!" that day in the hall when he realized how tall and handsome his best friends had become when they got up off the floor.
Either way, they both eat up the looks people give them as they share their tales of pining, self-discovery, and true love.
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owlyjules · 1 day ago
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My favourite Spooky things to enjoy on Halloween!!
Tought I would make a little list of spooky things to read, listen and watch for the big day!:D
I am pretty varried in scary scale but I tend to stay away from jumpscare! And I will try to not recommend the classic like "Over the garden wall" (1000/10 requiered halloween watch) and the classic movies like "beetlejuice" and " Hocus Pocus" since you guys probably know them well.:) Here goes! -------------------MOVIES-----------------------------
John Carpenter " The Fog"
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(Classic old movie, 3.5/5 spooks, old practical horror effect, mood is 10/10 with bonus for having a lighthouse) 2. The Cat people (1942)
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(very old movie, and has some old tropes but great tension in some scenes and has that feeling there is a monster about to pop out at any moment without the jumpscare. 2/5 spooky)
3. The Others (2001)
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(SPOOKY! One of the first scary movies I watch. still get me. Love it. 5/5 spooky for someone like me.)
------------PODCAST--------------------------
13 Days of Halloween (Season 2 and 3 ESPECIALLY)
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(Fantastic ambiance, amazing voice actors cast. Season 2 is in a small seaside town and very Lovecraftian + lighthouse, Season 3 is countryside great depression feel. Both fantastic. 5/5 spookies)
2. Old gods of Appalachia
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(one of my favourite podcast. if you like the magnus archive, you will like this! one of the best narrators in the world of podcasting. 4/5 spookies)
3. Ghost Story Podcast
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(Not really scary but an interesting investigation into familly history and probable haunt. Just a touch spooky. 1/5) ---------------BOOKS and MANGAS----------------
The twisted ones by T. Kingfisher
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(Maybe because I grew up in the countryside with a house similar to that one on my street, it gets me. 5/5 spookies)
2. Even Monsters Like Fairytale
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(Kinda villainess manga, kinda twisted fairytale, I highly rec this one! 1/5 spookies)
3. Shadow house
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(I would rec reading the manga more than the anime, if only because the art get that mood even better in black and white and Somato is amazing! 3/5 spookies)
4. A guest in the house by Emily Carroll
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(Uncanny and such an atmostphere! Emily Carroll is, as always, a master in scary stories! 5/5 spookies!)
5. Anything by Algernon Blackwood
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(Old school gothic and short ghosts stories. perfect for your dark academia and victorian haunts feels! You can find a lot in free audiobook form too on youtube and spotify! 3/5 SPOOKIES) ---------------GAMES--------------
Little goody two shoes
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(horror pixel art with the dark german fairytale look and yuri? yes please! 3/5 spookies!) 2. The return of the Obra Dinn
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(Ghost ship, solving crimes, nautical spooks and amazing atmosphere. 3/5 spookies) 3. Emio, The smiling man
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(Investigation game with amazing graphic and live 2d-animations! a touch of the supernatural. 3/5 spookies!) 4. Paranormasight
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(Seriously one of the best supernatural games I ever played. can be done in 1 or 2 days, its funny, scary and amazing. 5/5 spookies)
And that concludes thjis little list! I could add even more and Might as I think of some!
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halloweennymph · 2 days ago
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Full Moon
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werewolf x f! reader
summary: after a failed halloween party, you decide to go home, not even thinking that you would end up having a passionate encounter with a beast.
warnings: oral (f! receiving), loss of virginity, dub-con, knotting, breeding, mentions of kidnapping.
a/n: i haven’t written in months so it’s probably not my best work, but i hope that some of you enjoy it!! <3
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You tried. You really tried going to that stupid halloween party that your friends had been begging you to attend with them, promising that it would be cool and fun. But it wasn’t like that, an hour later they just disappeared, probably just to fuck with their boyfriends in a random room or bathroom, leaving you by yourself surrounded by strangers in a house that already smelled like alcohol and puke.
That’s how you ended up walking alone in the middle of the night, wearing a ridiculous angel costume that barely covers your body, planning on getting back home as soon as possible and spend the night in cozy pajamas and watching horror movies.
The street is almost empty, just some kids trick or treating are still outside, but you don’t really pay attention to anything until you hear something strange, some footsteps creeping closer to you.
At first you can’t see anything, it’s too dark, but then you see him. A werewolf, hiding behind a tree, staring at you with big yellow eyes as if he is about to catch another prey to eat.
A very realistic costume, that’s what you think, maybe just a random dude trying to mess with you… right?
“Nice costume!” you smile to him from the distance, not wanting to be rude, and then continue to your way home. A couple more blocks and you’ll be there, ready to relax after that disgusting place and the so called party.
If it weren’t for the full moon, you’d be completely terrified to be on your own, but with the way it dimly illuminates your path it’s almost soothing.
Once you finally get home, you take off your shoes and go straight to your room to take off the rest of your cheap costume. But once you strip down to just your panties, you hear those strange noises again.
…maybe this time it’s some wild animal or kids messing around?
You turn around to look through your window and there he is, that werewolf staring at you once more, as if he hadn’t had enough with that first time. But instead of feeling pissed off, you feel fear, and a deep instinct to run and hide.
“Go away” it’s all you can say, and of course that he won’t follow you orders, he already decided that you will be his, one way or another.
Before you can even think or react, the werewolf breaks the window and comes inside your room, inspecting the place carefully and stepping on the broken glass without feeling a single thing. That’s it. You think it’s over and imagine the worst escenario possible, but when he comes closer to you he just stares down at your fragile and terrified frame.
“I won’t hurt you” he says. “I just think that you’d be the perfect mate for me, don’t you think, little one?”
Having him just a few inches inches from you, you can see his sharp teeth, his wet nose and shiny fur, and you can also perceive his strong smell, animalistic, and… intoxicating. That’s when you realize that it’s not just a dude in a costume, it’s a real werewolf.
“I- I don’t know” you reply with a trembling voice.
He takes a step closer and leans in, just enough to smell your hair, your neck, and your shoulders. So so sweet. You wouldn’t believe it if he told you that he smelled you from miles away, causing some kind of urge on him, so intense that he had to track down the pretty thing that smelled just like innocence.
“You’re a pure one” he growls, with his muzzle buried on your neck. “We don’t find things like you very often”.
You don’t really know what he’s implying by pure, maybe the fact that you’re still a virgin, but oh, all of the sudden your thoughts and fears vanish from your mind when he starts licking your neck.
Each drag of his tongue feels like nothing you’ve had before, and so you dare to touch him, a real one, like you always read about in those romance novels. You caress his fur, thick and soft, and then slightly pull on those pointy ears, completely amazed to be able to run your hands through such a dangerous beast.
Without wasting any time, he wraps his paws around your waist and guides you to the bed, pushing you softly into the softness of your silk sheets.
Now having you completely at his disposal, he takes just a few seconds to admire your fragile body. He always dreamed of having a little human all to himself, but he never thought he’d find someone so pretty, so perfect.
Caging you beneath him, his muzzle slowly travels down to your cleavage and your tits, licking your hard nipples for a bit before continuing his way down, dragging his wet nose from your ribs to your belly, and finally, your clothed pussy.
He effortlessly rips off your lace panties with his fangs and his tongue immediately finds its place between your folds, tasting your sweet arousal. And that’s more than enough to drive him crazy.
He devours your pretty pussy like he hasn’t eaten in months, moving his slimey tongue from your little hole to your clit, making you mewl in pleasure and buck your hips against his face in an attempt to receive more.
He wraps his strong arms around your thighs, slightly digging his claws into your skin, just to keep you from moving while he licks your clit as fast as he can.
“I’m gonna cum” you moan, mindlessly tugging at his dark fur, already feeling that familiar pit in your lower belly about to explode.
A few seconds more and you come undone, riding the waves of pleasure on his mouth. And even though you’re starting to get overstimulated, he keeps your trembling legs apart, drinking all the sweet juices that leak out of you.
Oh, you have no idea how much he’s going to enjoy tearing open that unused little pussy of yours.
In your mind, clouded by pleasure, you think that maybe he will go away now, but when he get his muzzle out of between your legs and starts manhandling your body onto a new position, you know that it’s not over. He wants more than that.
Putting on all fours, he pushes your head to the mattress and lifts your hips, so roughly that he unintentionally scratches your skin with his long claws.
“This might hurt you a little bit” the werewolf speaks, using the tip of his red cock to smear his precum all over your entrance. “But you’re gonna take it like a good girl, won’t you?”
You’re scared, with your heart racing like crazy, but deep down you crave it. You crave to be fucked hard, and right now you don’t even care that he’s a beast that could easily tear you in half.
“Y-yes” you mewl, arching your back even more. “I’ll be a good girl.”
That’s all he needed to hear. Slowly, he starts pushing it inside, letting out a soft hiss at the sensation of your little hole stretching around him, so warm and tight, accommodating to the big size of his cock.
It hurts and stings, but you don’t want him to stop, so you just cry out in pain while grabbing your sheets, trying to tough it out like the good girl that you promised to be.
Once he is buried deep inside your pussy, he gives you a few seconds to adjust, spitting some drool right there to make it more slippery before thrusting. He starts slowly, but it’s not long until his animalistic urges take over and it turns rough and desperate.
You swear that you can feel him all the way up to your guts, forcing your walls to memorize each one of his ridges and veins. And before you know it, the pain has faded, leaving only the pleasurable stretch.
“It’s too much” you moan when he hits your sweet spot, mixing quite well with the bounce of his heavy balls against your clit.
“Go ahead and cum on my cock, pretty girl” he growls, grabbing your ass to slam into you even harder, already knowing that you’re close to another orgasm by the way you clench around him.
Loud squelching noises and your pathetic cries fill the room, it’s filthy, and you kinda feel like a slut for losing your virginity in such a dirty way. But do you care? not a single bit, specially not when you’re getting fucked by a literal werewolf.
You can’t take it any longer so you let your second orgasm overtake your body, whimpering and trembling under him, your greedy hole now spasming and sucking him in, begging to be bred.
You feel so good that just a few more thrusts and he is finally reaching his peak, letting out a deep grunt as he releases all of his hot cum inside you, filling your womb with his fertile seed.
He collapses on top of you, careful not to hurt you under his weight, only for a few minutes while you both catch your breath and enjoy the weird sensation of his inflated knot binding you together.
You have no idea of what you just did, but a dumb smile appears on your face, feeling safe under the mass of muscles and fur.
What you really don’t know, is that once his cock goes soft, he’s gonna pull out and carry your limp body in his arms, taking you with him to the deepest part of the woods. Why would he leave you there on your own again if you’ll probably have his pups after a few months?
Now you’re his, forever.
177 notes · View notes
just-aake · 2 days ago
Text
A Feline Connection: Halloween Special
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Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader
Summary: Natasha is getting everything ready for the Halloween event while also helping you find the right costume for her favorite feline.
A/N: This is a side story set at some time between Part 2 and 3 of the A Feline Connection series.
Warnings: fluff
Words: 4450
Natasha carefully sets down two oversized bowls brimming with candy onto one of the many rows of tables, adjusting them slightly before turning her attention to arranging an array of spooky decorations across the counter. 
Around her, eerie decorations fill the park as volunteers bustle about, setting the stage for the Halloween event—a collaboration between the Avengers and the city. 
Team members are spread out everywhere she looks, each helping prepare for the different activities. 
Natasha has taken charge of the trick-or-treat stations, aiming to make the experience fun and safe for the kids, double-checking candy supplies, and ensuring no child goes home without treats. 
As she directs volunteers to rearrange some tables to keep the pathways clear, her phone vibrates in her pocket. 
She pulls it out, her eyes softening at the picture you’ve sent. 
Widow is pouting into the camera, clearly displeased at her current state. The little black cat is decked out in a miniature Iron Man suit, complete with the iconic mask perched on her head.
“Cute,” Natasha mutters, smirking at the picture. 
Moments later, your message follows.
“What do you think about her costume for tonight?”
“Cute, but it doesn’t look like it’s her favorite,” Natasha replies, her fingers tapping a quick response.
A second picture arrives—a close-up of Widow now scratching at the Iron Man mask, a clear statement of her displeasure.
“You might be right. Guess we’ll try out some more.”
Natasha chuckles and quickly forwards the picture to the Avengers group chat. She’s about to tuck her phone away when a curious thought suddenly appears in her mind.
“Are you wearing a costume for tonight?”
Your playful response arrives seconds later.
“Maybe…wouldn’t you like to know, Miss Black Widow.”
Natasha can practically hear your teasing tone. But before she can respond, she’s interrupted by the sound of two small sets of footsteps barreling toward her. 
She looks up just as Lila and Cooper Barton crash into her, giggling as they wrap their arms around her in a tight hug. 
Natasha pretends to stumble, letting out an exaggerated groan as if their embrace had taken her down. 
“Auntie Nat!” Lila shouts, bouncing back with a wide grin, while Cooper nods energetically.
“We’re here to help!” he chimes in, both kids practically vibrating with excitement. 
Natasha eyes them with a hint of suspicion, already guessing what might be fueling their energy. 
“Sorry, we’re late,” Clint says, approaching with a stroller carrying Nathaniel, the youngest Barton. 
Natasha bends down to greet the baby, who lights up and giggles as she tickles his tummy.
“Nat, don’t rile him up!” Clint groans playfully. “I already have these two bouncing off the walls on sugar.” 
Laura steps up beside him, crossing her arms with a sigh. 
“I told you not to give them candy this early.” 
Natasha laughs, straightening up. 
“Well, in that case, this might not be the best area for them to ‘help’ with.” 
She gestures to the tables overflowing with candy, smirking.
Lila and Cooper shake their heads fervently. 
“We can help, Auntie Nat!” Lila insists. 
“Yeah! We won’t eat any more candy, promise!” Cooper echoes, though Natasha gives them both a skeptical look, fully aware of how flimsy that promise is. 
“Don’t you want to check out the other Avengers’ setups?” she suggests, raising an eyebrow. 
The kids exchange a quick look before nodding, excitement building once again. 
Natasha turns to Clint.
“Think you can handle the rest here?”
Clint waves a hand dismissively.
“Go, have fun. I’ve got this covered.” 
With that, the kids race off toward the next area, Natasha following close behind with Laura walking beside her. 
“So,” Laura begins with a knowing smile, “I hear you’re seeing someone.”
Natasha lets out an exasperated sigh. 
“Not you too,” she groans, but Laura’s amused expression softens. 
“Hey, I’m happy for you. You deserve someone good, Nat,” Laura says genuinely. 
“Thanks, but we’re just friends,” Natasha replies, though she can’t help the small smile that forms at the thought of you. 
Laura studies her face and chuckles softly.
“And you like her,” she observes with a smirk. 
Unable to stop the warm sensation in her chest at the thought of you, Natasha admits softly under her breath. 
“Maybe a little.” 
As they continue walking through the park, Laura suddenly stops, pointing toward a commotion in the distance. 
“Is that Stark…destroying the black cat balloons?” 
In the sky above, Tony’s Iron Man suit zooms around, blasting black cat balloons as Rhodey flies after him in the War Machine suit, shouting, “Tony! Stop it! We’re going to have to fly back and get replacements!” 
Natasha rolls her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. With a small, amused smile, she guides Laura and the kids in a different direction, as if it’s just another typical day with the Avengers.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
As Natasha and Laura guide the kids through the park, they pass by a small stage where Thor suddenly emerges from behind the curtains, lugging a massive armchair with ease. He drops it in the center of the stage with a loud thud, grinning with satisfaction. 
“Need any help?” Natasha asks, raising an eyebrow.
Thor waves her off proudly. 
“No, thank you, Nat, I have everything set up!” 
He gives the arm of the chair an approving pat. 
“Tonight, I shall sit upon this throne and regale the children with the most terrifying stories of Asgard, striking fear into their hearts just as this human holiday requires.” 
“I like scary stories!” Lila exclaims excitedly, her eyes widening. 
Thor nods approvingly.
“Good! These tales will make you so frightened that you may wish never to close your eyes again!” 
“Awesome,” Lila whispers in awe, her enthusiasm undeterred. 
Laura sighs, not entirely thrilled about her daughter’s taste in terrifying tales.
Meanwhile, Cooper, already unnerved, subtly tucks himself behind Natasha, tightly clutching the edge of her jacket. 
Natasha can only stare at Thor in response, momentarily speechless at his well-intentioned but misguided plan, then shakes her head vehemently. 
“No, that’s…that’s not what we’re aiming for tonight,” she says, glancing around. “Where’s Steve? We need to fix this.” 
Thor frowns, confused by the sudden concern. 
“Did I say something wrong?” 
Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. 
“Laura, can you explain to him while I talk to Steve?”
Laura nods in understanding while holding back Lila, who is already begging Thor to share a story. 
Cooper clings close to Natasha as she heads off to find Steve. 
On her way, Natasha feels her phone vibrate in her pocket. 
Pulling it out, she sees you’ve sent a video this time. 
The thumbnail catches her eye immediately—the familiar colors of red, white, and blue stand out on the cat. 
Huffing in amusement, Natasha taps the screen to play it. 
The video opens with Widow’s wary meow as she glances up at you, her eyes expressing hesitance. She’s dressed in a miniature Captain America costume, complete with a small cowl and a plastic replica of the shield strapped to her back. 
Though, the shield seems slightly too big on her tiny body. 
Your voice comes through the video, soothing and coaxing. 
“Come on, Widow, it’s okay.” 
Widow shoots a disgruntled glare at the camera, hesitating before attempting to step forward. But her movements are stiff and awkward, the shield throwing off her balance. She wobbles for a moment before losing her footing and toppling onto her side. 
The video shakes as your laughter bubbles up in the background, and Natasha can’t help but grin at the sound. 
Widow stays lying there, visibly defeated, meowing her irritation. The video cuts off just as you reach to help her.
A text quickly follows: “I don’t think she likes that one either :(”
Natasha chuckles, typing back with a suggestion. 
“Maybe try something that lets her move around more easily?”
You respond with a thumbs-up emoji, and Natasha contemplates for a moment before sending another text. 
“Do I get a hint about what you're wearing?” 
After a brief pause, your response pops up.
“Mine’s extremely comfortable to move in ;)”
Natasha shakes her head, chuckling at your flirtatious reply.
“Oh, I recognize that look,” a familiar voice calls out nearby. Steve walks over, a knowing grin on his face. “What did your friend say this time?” 
Natasha rolls her eyes, slipping her phone back into her pocket. 
“Trust me, Rogers, if I told you, you’d never be able to look me in the eyes again. Still want to know?”
Steve raises his hands in surrender, laughing. 
“Forget I asked.” 
Her playful expression fades into mild frustration as she crosses her arms, remembering her original purpose for finding him. 
“Did you get a chance to preview any of Thor’s stories before you assigned him the stage for storytelling?” 
Steve furrows his brow, lifting another pumpkin out of a nearby cart. 
“No…why? Are they not good? Thor mentioned that he had a lot of them.” 
“Oh, I’m sure he’s got plenty,” Natasha says, struggling to suppress a laugh. “It’s just that Asgardian scary doesn’t quite translate to our kind of spooky. Someone might want to…filter his options.” 
Steve’s eyes widen as he finally catches on. 
“Right, I’ll talk to him after I finish up here.” 
Just then, Cooper tugs on Steve’s sleeve. 
“Can I help?”
“Of course, buddy,” Steve smiles, handing him a small pumpkin. “Just take it over to Hulk—he’s setting them up over there.” 
Cooper nods and huffs slightly as he carries the pumpkin toward Hulk, who’s busy stacking a few larger ones in designated spots.
Steve turns back to Natasha. 
“Could you check in with Wanda and Vision at the haunted trails? I sent Sam over but haven’t heard back yet.” 
“On it,” Natasha agrees, giving him a quick nod before heading in their direction. 
As she makes her way there, her phone buzzes with another message from you. 
This time, it’s a picture of Widow, now wearing a long Scarlet Witch jacket. She’s curled up, fast asleep, the oversized coat draped over her like a blanket. 
The text reads: “This one might be too comfortable.”
Natasha laughs softly, shaking her head. 
“That’s probably the best option at this point. But if not, you’d better hurry—the event’s starting soon.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll be there,” you respond reassuringly. 
Distracted in her texting with you, Natasha doesn’t realize that she’s already at the entrance of the haunted trails until she suddenly notices the stark change in her surroundings.  
On the side she came from, the trees were filled with green leaves, casting warm shadows in the setting sun. 
Meanwhile, from where she’s standing, the trees along the haunted trail are bare and twisted, their leafless branches reaching out like claws, and an eerie red glow seeps through the shadows, casting a haunting atmosphere over the path. 
Natasha stops for a moment, admiring Wanda’s impressive attention to detail in crafting the spooky illusion. 
The eerie quiet breaks with a sudden rustling, making Natasha tense instinctively, her senses heightened as she scans the surrounding trees. 
Bats flutter out from the branches above, and Natasha narrows her eyes, feeling like this illusion might be a little too realistic. 
Just as she’s about to call for Wanda, something suddenly swoops out of the shadows, rushing toward her. 
Reacting instantly, Natasha dodges and rolls to the ground, her Widow’s Bite gauntlets flaring up as she raises them, ready to strike. 
But the blue glow fades as she pauses, realizing it’s only a makeshift ghost—a sheet suspended on a nearly invisible line, guided by the Redwing drone hovering above it. 
Sam’s laughter fills the air as he lands beside her. 
“You should’ve seen your face, Nat,” he chuckles, barely containing his amusement.
Natasha stands up, brushing off her clothes with a deadpan expression. 
“What are you talking about? I wasn’t scared.”
Sam gives her a playful smirk.
“Come on, admit it. I got you good.”
She crosses her arms, eyebrows raised. 
“Did you hear me scream?”
“Not everyone screams when they’re scared. Some just—ah!” 
Two hands suddenly reach up from the ground, grabbing onto their ankles. 
Sam lets out a startled yell, instinctively activating his wings to lift off the ground. 
Natasha, though startled, keeps her composure, only stepping back slightly to pull herself from the hand's grip.
Above, Sam hovers in the air, wide-eyed, as Vision phases fully out of the ground.
“Vision?!” Sam exclaims, still hovering a few feet off the ground. 
Vision regards them with a calm nod, looking somewhat puzzled. 
“My apologies. Wanda suggested that this would be amusing. Was my approach incorrect?”
Wanda emerges from behind a nearby tree, laughing as she pats Vision on the shoulder. 
“No, Vis, you did great.” 
“Wrong,” Sam protests. “That was totally wrong!”
Natasha smirks, crossing her arms as she looks up at him. 
“It’s no different than what you tried to pull. So are you going to come down, or are you too scared?” 
Feigning indifference, Sam pretends to check his wrist communicator. 
“Looks like Cap’s calling me. I’ll catch you all later.”
Natasha huffs, amused, and shakes her head as he disappears before turning back to Wanda and Vision. 
“Great work on the setup over here,” she says, genuinely impressed. 
Wanda beams at the compliment. 
“Thank you,” she says before a mischievous glint appears in her eyes. “You know, this trail would be even more fun with someone special to walk through it with.” 
Natasha narrows her eyes slightly in suspicion.
“And what are you trying to say?” 
“I believe Wanda means that shared experiences under high-pressure situations like this can often lead to stronger bonds, especially if one wishes to develop a closer connection with such a person,” Vision says with his usual thoughtful tone. 
“Yeah, what he said,” Wanda agrees with a smirk. 
Natasha just rolls her eyes. 
“I don’t think she scares easily,” Natasha says, thinking about you and suppressing a small smile. 
Wanda’s face lights up.
“So you are thinking about asking her?” 
Natasha chooses not to respond, giving Wanda a warning look before giving them both a quick wave. 
“I’m going to check on the other preparations.” 
As she walks through the Halloween-themed carnival booths, dusk has fully settled over the park, casting everything in a warm glow. 
Strings of lights and glowing balloons hang high above, illuminating each station and path. 
Her phone buzzes again, and she glances down to see another message from you.
“On our way. Too late for a photo shoot though. Guess you have to wait to see us both in person.” 
Natasha smirks, amused at your teasing. Before she can type a response, a figure suddenly swings down from the large spider web decoration spanning the booths. 
“Hi, hey, Miss Romanoff!” Spider-Man greets, waving with enthusiasm. “Is it okay if I take off early?” 
Natasha tilts her head curiously at the young Avenger. 
“Going trick-or-treating?” 
Spider-Man freezes. 
“What? No! I’m…” he clears his throat, deepening his voice in an attempt to sound more mature. “I’m not a kid.” 
She raises an eyebrow, smirking in amusement.
Spider-Man sighs, giving in as he fidgets nervously. 
“Okay, there’s this girl, MJ. I invited her, and it’s, um, it’s just going to be us instead of the whole group. So I just wanted it to be perfect.”
Natasha chuckles softly at his rambling. 
“It’s fine, Peter. You don’t need to explain everything. You can go. We’re nearly done here anyway.” 
“Awesome, thank you!” he exclaims, turning to swing away, but he pauses, looking back at her. “Oh, and, uh…Mr. Stark said to ask if you’re bringing your—”
Natasha raises a hand, cutting him off. 
“If you keep calling her my ‘crush,’ I’ll assign you to extra security training for the next month.”
Spider-Man immediately covers his mouth, nodding before shooting a web to swing away. 
“Sorry! I’m gonna go get ready, then!”
Natasha watches him disappear, a smirk lingering on her face as she checks her phone again. She types a quick reply to your message. 
“I’ll be at the trick-or-treat stations if you have time to drop by.” 
When your response comes through with a heart emoji, Natasha feels a warmth in her chest that she doesn’t even try to hide, a genuine smile spreading across her face as she pockets her phone and heads toward the trick-or-treat stations, ready to greet you.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
The park is alive with laughter and excitement as attendees in colorful costumes move from booth to booth, soaking up the Halloween festivities. 
Natasha finds herself genuinely smiling and enjoying herself as yet another child in a miniature Black Widow costume steps up to her table. 
With an enthusiastic "Trick or treat!" they hold out their basket. 
Natasha hands over a generous scoop of candy, and the kid thanks her with a beaming smile before mimicking her signature move, extending their tiny arm as if launching a Widow Bite. 
Natasha grins and joins in, making a mock "pew" sound, then bumps fists with the little fan. 
The child squeals in delight, racing back to their parents to show off the interaction, and Natasha watches them go with a warm smile. 
Her attention shifts as she notices the next person approaching her table. She turns, ready to greet them, but her words falter as her eyes meet yours. 
Standing before her, you’re dressed in a sleek black velvet ensemble that hugs your figure perfectly. A delicate choker with a small gold charm glimmers at your neck, catching the glow of the park’s lights. Long, satin gloves reach up to your elbows, and a pair of elegant cat ears sit atop your head. 
The subtle smokiness around your eyes and a sharp, alluring cat-eye flick draw her attention to your gaze, while a delicate black nose and faint whiskers complete the look with just the right touch of playfulness.
Caught off guard, Natasha’s breath catches slightly as her eyes take in every detail. Finally, she composes herself enough for a smile to break through as she remarks, “Nice costume. Did Widow put you up to it?” 
You chuckle, and the sound sends a warmth through her. 
“After what I put her through today, I figured it was only fair.” 
Just then, as if on cue, Widow makes an entrance, leaping gracefully onto the table from the shadows. 
Natasha’s smirk widens as she notices the cat’s costume. 
Widow prowls across the table, dressed in a tiny but impressively tailored Black Widow suit. The sleek material hugs her, complete with tiny red accents and a miniature tactical belt with the iconic red hourglass emblem.
Her back paws are fitted with faux combat boots, giving her a serious “spy” aura, but it’s her front legs that steal the show: delicate little cuffs designed to resemble Natasha’s Widow Bite gauntlets, emitting a soft blue glow with each step. 
The tiny LED lights pulse in sync with her paw steps, illuminating Widow’s fur and adding an extra edge to her strut, looking every bit as fierce as her human counterpart. 
The cat pauses in front of Natasha, lifting one paw in a poised gesture and looking at Natasha expectantly. 
Natasha laughs softly, echoing her earlier gesture with the small explosion sound. 
Widow meows in approval before nudging her hand, purring contentedly as Natasha gives her an affectionate scratch. 
“She really likes you,” you say gently, drawing Natasha’s attention back to you. 
Natasha looks up, a playful glint in her eyes. 
“Well, I am pretty amazing,” she teases, earning a light eye roll from you.
You both share a smile, letting the sounds of the crowd fade around you as you hold each other’s gaze. 
“Kitty!” Lila’s excited voice breaks the moment as she runs up to Natasha’s side, her eyes fixed on Widow with delight. 
Widow, clearly unamused by the child’s excited, grabby hands, meows a questioning protest, glancing at you and Natasha for guidance.
“Lila, remember to ask before you pet,” Laura gently reminds her, catching up. She gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that! I’m Laura, by the way—I’ve heard a lot about you.” 
Raising an eyebrow, you give Natasha an amused look.
“Have you now?”
Natasha’s quick to shake her head in denial. 
“That’s not true,” she insists, but you only raise your eyebrows, your smile teasing.
“I don’t think that response is any better.” 
Natasha feels a rare flustered moment but quickly regains her composure, crossing her arms.
“It’s not…I just didn’t mean it like that.” 
You bite your lip, suppressing a smirk, and Natasha rolls her eyes in mock annoyance.
Meanwhile, Lila sidles closer, her eyes wide as she looks up at you. 
“Can I pet your cat?”
You smile and nod, calling Widow over with gentle strokes before guiding Lila’s hand onto her fur. The little girl giggles with delight as she pets Widow, who purrs softly, enjoying the attention.
Natasha watches, smiling warmly at the scene, but when she glances up, Laura is giving her a pointed look.
With a subtle thumbs-up and a nod toward you, Laura’s approval is clear. 
Natasha furrows her brows in a silent warning, which only prompts Laura to smirk mischievously. 
Before Natasha can fully comprehend her friend’s intentions, Laura turns to you with a friendly suggestion. 
“Have you checked out the haunted trails yet?” 
You shake your head, glancing curiously toward the spooky path lined with twisted, bare trees in the distance. 
“Not yet. I haven’t had a chance to.”  
“Perfect! Natasha hasn’t either, and she’s been hoping to find someone to go with her,” Laura says with a sly smile.
Natasha’s head snaps to Laura, caught off guard. 
“What? No, I never—” she begins, but Lila interjects. 
“It’s true! I offered to go with Auntie Nat, but she said she’d still be too scared with just the two of us.” 
Natasha stifles a groan, quickly covering Lila’s mouth with her hand and guiding her away from you. 
“Alright, who taught you to lie like that?”
You laugh lightly, raising your brows at Natasha, who’s now thoroughly exasperated. Widow hops into your arms, settling comfortably as she observes the interaction. 
“Well, maybe with two Black Widows, it won’t be as scary,” you suggest, smiling as Widow snuggles against you.
Without missing a beat, Laura nudges Natasha out from behind the table. 
“Great idea! Go on, Nat. I can handle things here.”
Natasha glances back at her friend, her narrowed eyes silently communicating the words she doesn’t say, but Laura only grins, waving her off.
Resigned, Natasha sighs, glancing back at you. 
“Alright then. Shall we?” she says, gesturing toward the haunted trails.
You smile, adjusting Widow in your arms.
“Lead the way.”
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
Natasha was right: fear seemed to be the last thing on your mind as the two of you strolled through the haunted trail. 
Your hands rest casually behind your back, your eyes sweeping over the creepy details Wanda had woven into the path. 
Shadows dance in the dim lighting, and eerie props loom from hidden corners, but you only seem intrigued, your calm composure contrasting the atmosphere. 
Widow, however, was another story. 
After a particularly loud, sudden ghostly screech from a hidden speaker, followed by the whoosh of a flying ghost, she yelps and darts back to the two of you, beelining for Natasha. 
In a flash, she scrambles up Natasha’s side until Natasha steadies her in her arms. 
Tucking herself tightly against Natasha’s chest, Widow let out a small, tremulous meow, seeking comfort from the ordeal. 
With a gentle smile, Natasha rubs her hand along the cat’s back, soothing her. 
You tilt your head, feigning mild offense. 
“Should I be insulted that she ran to you instead of me?” 
“Maybe I’m just more cuddly,” Natasha teases, shooting you a smirk. 
You chuckle, letting the joke hang in the air before a softer look crosses your face. 
“Thank you for inviting us. I didn’t expect to enjoy this as much as I am.” 
You reach out, lightly resting a hand on her shoulder while leaning closer to give Widow a few reassuring pets.
Natasha finds herself stunned at the warmth of your touch and how close you were to her, watching how your expression softens as you look at Widow. 
When you glance up, meeting her eyes, a silence settles between you, almost charged, as if the ghostly ambiance had taken a back seat to the quiet, familiar energy building between you.
But then, your eyes flick just past her, widening in surprise.
You pull back abruptly, stumbling slightly as your hand slips from her shoulder. 
Natasha’s instincts kick in, and she turns quickly to see what had spooked you, catching only a flash of something metallic disappearing into the shadows. 
Widow stiffens in her arms, her fur fluffing out as she lets out a low, wary growl toward the direction of the shadow.
Concerned, Natasha turns back to you. 
“You okay?” she asks, her gaze searching yours. 
You give her a quick nod and a small, reassuring smile. 
“Yeah. Guess I got scared after all,” you say with a little laugh, clearly brushing off the moment. “Let’s get out of here.” 
Widow gives a soft meow in agreement, clearly done with the haunted trail.
As the three of you reach the trail’s end, you call to Widow, who hops back into your arms. 
Natasha slips her hands into her jacket pockets, glancing back toward the trail’s dark path with a hint of curiosity.
The strange, unknown thing in the shadow and the way Widow had reacted—left her with a faint sense of unease. 
But then your voice pulls her focus back to you.
“Thanks again. We had fun,” you say, offering her a small, genuine smile. “But you probably need to return to your post with the trick-or-treaters.” 
Natasha hesitates, caught between a responsible response and a lingering desire to keep talking to you. 
“I…I had fun, too,” she replies, her voice softer. 
“We’re probably heading out for the night,” you add, shifting Widow into a comfortable spot in your arms.
“Oh.” Natasha tries to mask her disappointment with a casual smile. “Are you sure you don’t want to check out any of the other booths?” 
But instead of answering, you give her a playful smile, your eyes gleaming with a touch of mystery. 
“Happy Halloween, Miss Black Widow.” 
And with that teasing smirk, you turn, disappearing into the crowd.
Natasha lingers for a moment, watching you go, a hint of a smile still on her face before heading back to her station. 
Not noticing that somewhere in the shadows behind her, a faint glint of gold reappears before vanishing just as quickly.
~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~
a/n: Happy Halloween to everyone! Just wanted to add some fluff into the series for the holiday and before the main story continues because turns out I was wrong…it seems that this series will not be going in the light-hearted direction of small misadventures like originally planned 😬. Essentially, we will now have some sort of plot (with the new hinted character) so be sure to read the warnings in the next chapter before deciding if you want to continue. thanks again for reading!
If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.
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gotham-daydreams · 2 days ago
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Falling into Place
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Day 2 {Challenge Masterlist}
It was a simple question, a simple conversation. However, this is obviously bigger than they think.
[Yandere Batfam × Gender Neutral! Cop Reader]
[Warnings: Mentions of suicide, cults, occult like activities, death, blood, poisoning, violence, brief descriptions of fighting, descriptions of suicide.] (Note: Unless otherwise specified, it's to be believed that actions involved with harming, hurting, or heavily injuring the self are not talking about the Batfamily or the reader. Still, you have been warned.)
Sorry for the huge delay! Got hit with a bit of burnout at the worst moment... whoops!
------------------------
It was well into the morning when Bruce was just about finishing up whatever personal research he could gather. By the time Duke was heading out, Bruce was still by the batcomputer, trying to gather all he could on his own - and though he didn’t learn as much as he’d like, he knew enough to tell Duke to keep him posted on any activity he ran into during the day.
Again, Bruce wasn’t able to gather much, especially since the group themselves didn’t seem to have an official name, but based on what he was told the previous night, he had just enough to find what he could with a group that supposedly had no name. One thing he gathered is that they were more active in the day, but even then, they weren’t exactly known for grand or flashy displays - working and tampering in more odd and underground areas, which explains how they managed to slip past him for a while. Though, what he still couldn’t get was when, exactly, they arrived in Gotham, and when they seemed to leave Metropolis. That was one of the more important questions Bruce had wanted to answer, but, again, no luck.
It was then that Bruce had a choice. He could either keep going at this by himself, and risk spending more time than necessary on just trying to gather information when this cult was out there, doing god knows what in his city, and striving to achieve… well, whatever their end goal is - or he could ask for help, and potentially get things moving along faster so he can handle this quicker and much more efficiently.
There are countless reasons why Bruce didn’t want to make that call, a big one was that he didn’t want to involve more people into what was clearly a Gotham problem. These were people he was dealing with, humans, he’s supposed to be able to handle it on his own. That’s what he does. That’s what he’s supposed to be doing. Yet, if those in the manor with him now couldn’t sense anything… not even Cassandra and Damian… something was wrong. Not to mention that there was just a weird feeling Bruce was getting from all this. It all felt off in a way he didn’t know how to explain.
So, reluctantly, Bruce makes the call - but not after a few minutes of staring at his phone, and brooding.
In his defense, it was too early for something like this… for him, anyway, seeing as it was only ten o’clock.
-----------------------
When Clark came over, it was Alfred who greeted him, and let him in. The butler swiftly led the super to the batcave, and offered tea along with some biscuits and other things Alfred had prepared that morning as they walked. Of course, Clark took Alfred up on his offers, and when he reached the batcave, he had finished his tea, and had a few crackers in hand.
There, as usual, Bruce didn’t bother with greetings or formalities, and instead got straight to business.
“Tell me everything you know about this cult.”
Clark had to take a small moment to swallow down the cracker he had been chewing on just as he walked in, “Which one?”
Bruce exhaled heavily, “The one that came from your city, to mine.”
Now, that made Clark pause in his movements. Taking a breath, he took a few steps forward, and got more situated within the confines of the cave. “They came here? I mean- I heard them start to move, but I didn’t think they’d settle in Gotham too,” Clark admits, looking at Bruce, clearly concerned.
Bruce furrows his brows at the response, “‘too’? They went to other areas-?”
Just before the question could fully escape the detective, Duke’s commlink buzzes to life.
[“Uh, Signal, reporting in.”] Bruce looks over to the computer, shooting a glance at Clark before bringing his full attention to Duke.
“Anything come up?” He asks, hearing a short huff on the other end.
[Collecting his thoughts, Duke takes a moment before saying, “Beside the usual small fry, there’s nothing to report. Some guys just tried to vandalize the library and wreck the place, buuuuuut I don’t think that there’s much else-”]
“Have any bakeries or floral shops been attacked or stolen from? Maybe a grocery store, or something like that?” Clark suddenly chips in, now paying more attention to the screens too, “Something like a large pot, a whole shopping cart or basket of food items?”
[“Oh- okay, um, another flower shop was stolen from, and some guy was trying to steal another pot of, uh, what did the guy call them- irises? And someone was trying to break into the greenhouse- but even if I was able to stop them, someone must’ve snuck in during the night or earlier this morning before my patrol, since whatever virus that other place had got there too. And y’know how things are taken care of in the greenhouse, there’s no way something like that got there naturally and got so bad-”]
Clark’s brows furrowed, and he caressed his chin, deep in thought, but a strange detail was evident - he was nervous.
Noticing a change in the super’s demeanor quickly, Bruce asks, “What’s wrong, Clark?”
Not getting a response right away was suspicious enough, and the longer Clark took to say anything, the worse Bruce felt. Narrowing his eyes, the vigilante continues to inspect his friend - as if he could catch what was wrong before Clark could put it to words.
The super was tense and on edge, that much was obvious. Looking noticeably disturbed, almost pale - Bruce knew that whatever Clark was thinking about, obviously wasn’t helping - but that was the thing. Was Clark thinking about something, or did Duke’s response spark a memory of some kind? After all, from what Bruce could gather, he’s been dealing with this group for much longer, and if the earliest, possible headline he could find was anything to go off of - the super has been dealing with this group for a couple of months at the very least. About five if he had to give a specific number. It wasn’t a long time, but it was more time than Bruce, and that was the biggest difference. Clark knew the group, Bruce didn’t. Not yet.
Yet whatever the super was recalling now clearly disturbed him, and Clark was getting worse by the minute.
“Clark, talk to me-”
[“OH! Uh, Hi? [Last Name], right? What’re you doing here-?”]
That seemed to snap Clark out of whatever trance he was in, and draw Bruce’s focus away from Clark for the time being. The single mention of that name caught both of their attention - but for two different reasons. One out of familiarity, and the other out of slight suspicion.
“They’re awake at this time-?”
“Officer [Last Name] is with you, Signal?” Clark asks, tone a touch lighter now, his complexion becoming a bit better - and Bruce had to wonder if it was because Clark knew the officer, or something else was going on between the two for the super to act in such a way. Was it a matter of a simple, brief distraction? Or was there some history here that Bruce didn’t know about?
Something bubbled in Bruce’s gut, and he looked back to the screen once again. Nothing about this felt particularly good, and there was that sense again, of convenience. He wouldn’t call it easy per say, no, it just all felt too… simple. Like they were being led down some kind of path. Like he was being guided down a certain train of thought, or being purposefully put on some kind of path. By who, or why, Bruce doesn’t know yet, but he will. He always finds out.
Regardless, just sitting here and thinking wasn’t going to do him any favors, and frankly, he was wasting time - everyone was, and you seemed to be conveniently tied to this case too, so he might as well take this opportunity while it’s given to him. If this turned out to be some kind of play, or was another means to set him on a certain path… well, he has a few cards to play too. The house always wins, and Bruce practically owns this place. This is his territory, and no one can trick him while on his playing field. No one.
“Bring [Last Name] to the manor.” Bruce says, suddenly cutting into the conversation Clark and Duke were having.
[Duke is shocked into silence for a second, before he quickly recovers and utters a small, “Are you sure?” Which, yeah. While Bruce always seems to know what he’s doing, the young vigilante couldn’t help but hesitate and feel unsure. Was that the best idea? And even then, why did Bruce want to see you? Duke feels like he’s missing something here.]
“Yes, now, send them over, Duke.” After getting a reluctant ‘alright,’ in response, the connection is cut, and Bruce turns to look at the super standing beside him - who looks at him curiously and a bit confused.
Straightening out his posture, Bruce only says, “Clark, meet me out in front, and leave the glasses here.”
-----------------------
Arriving at Wayne Manor felt strange enough, but being guided there and given a ride by one of Bruce Wayne’s supposed adopted children felt weirder. The building practically loomed over you, and sure, you were used to the feeling since you came from the city, but something felt different about it now as compared to every other instance before. Like even the shadow it casted over you held a deep secret.
Honestly, something like this was bound to happen, but to be here now, and actually at the foot of the door leading into the manor? Well, you could certainly understand why so many people feared the Waynes just as much as others respected them. The building certainly reflected the people it housed incredibly well, almost unnervingly so.
Regardless, just as you didn’t think the situation could get any stranger, just as you were about to knock on the door, a gust of wind blew behind you, and you felt an all too familiar presence as the wind settled. It was only then that you decided to ring the doorbell instead, and straightened yourself out as you made small fixes to your attire and appearance.
“Didn’t expect to be seeing you here, Superman,” You greet, glancing over you shoulder to look at the superhero, who floated in the air beside you before deciding he had enough of the air, and touched the ground with practiced ease. One can’t help but wonder just how long it took him to land in such a way that didn’t shatter the earth beneath his feet upon impact, but, ah, those were questions for another day, perhaps.
Giving you that bright, charming smile he was known for, the hero nods, “Mr. Wayne gave me a call too, but honestly I’m a little surprised!” He chuckles casually, the gesture just as broad as his frame and smile, “It’s good to see you though, [Last Name], some of the officers miss you back in Metropolis - and some other folks too. You must be incredibly social to have so many friends!”
At that, you give a small shrug that matches the hero’s tone, “I have a big family, y’know? And it never hurts to be friendly, especially with so much trouble around, y’know?” You give a chuckle of your own, though it’s more light, and kept a touch low, “Though, it’s a little funny, honestly.”
Superman gives you a curious look, “What is?”
You give a smile of your own to the hero, “The fact that a man like him, can get someone like you to call him ‘Mr.Wayne’ instead of just ‘Bruce’.”
He raises his brows, and snickers a little himself, “Really? Well… I guess it is a little funny when you put it that way, but what makes you say that?”
“Hm, let’s just say I had the impression you two would be closer than that.”
Before Superman could ask you any more questions, the door is finally answered, and you’re greeted with the sight of a butler. Your attention immediately shifts to the older man, who you greet with a simple smile as you look away from the hero. ‘This must be Alfred Pennyworth. Honestly, he looks better than I thought - much healthier too.’ You think to yourself, and are subsequently proven right when he speaks.
“Sorry for the delay, Master Bruce is ready for you two now. Please, come in,” the words fell out of his mouth with a certain grace that couldn’t be ignored, and the voice he had just naturally commanded attention - holding elegance, authority, and yet in a way that none of it felt impolite or rude. All things that you didn’t see very often, and suddenly, you found yourself liking this ‘Alfred’ character more and more by the second, even if you had only met him today.
Still, you wave off his words, “Please, there’s no need to apologize, the wait wasn’t long at all,” and step inside while half way through your sentence. Superman follows in right after you, agreeing and saying something similar. It was small, subtle, but you could help but sense a feeling of familiarity between the two interacting, but brushed it off. Now wasn’t the time to focus on such things, and besides, you couldn’t waste this opportunity, could you? After all, it’s not every day someone is given the chance to just waltz into Wayne Manor - and you were lucky enough to be given such a chance. Really, you almost felt honored.
Moving on, Alfred led both you and the hero through the gigantic building, and eventually stopped just before a room. Once Alfred opened the door, you took a brief look around, and hummed, a bit impressed. For something that you assumed to be akin to a common room, or sitting room of sorts, it still looked very well furnished and taken care of - but having a lot of money certainly help with that, even if you’ve heard that Alfred is the only servant at the manor. He must be a very skilled and particular man, but still, it seems odd to see only one butler no matter how capable he is - that couldn’t be very efficient, could it? Hm.
Nevertheless, it took little effort at all to spot Bruce Wayne in all of his glory, and to your slight surprise, he didn’t look like he had just rolled out of bed - though, even for small, sudden invites like this, a celebrity must keep appearances, you suppose.
He gestures for you and Superman to take a seat, saying to “Make yourselves at home,” to which, you both promptly do so and take a seat to the couch opposite to Bruce with a comfortable amount of distance between the three of you.
You let Superman ask, “So, what did you need us for, Mr. Wayne?” since it seemed to make the most sense to have him ask instead of yourself. While he does so, you take the time to get a bit comfortable. Leaning back against the cushions, crossing one leg over the other, and taking the cup of tea that’s offered to you when Alfred comes up next to you with the tray.
As you take a sip of the tea while it’s still hot, Bruce simply replies, “Ah, I guess I should’ve offered some kind of explanation beforehand, my apologies .” Offering a carefree smile, and you had to give him some credit, for someone with a reputation like his, he does little to disprove any of the rumors you’ve heard. Though, maybe that’s a little rude - seeing as he’s only just spoken. “I’m also sorry for the short notice, but- you see, I’ve heard that something is going on in Gotham, and I’d like to hear all about it from those that seem to know the most about it!... From what I’ve heard, anyway.”
Now that makes you raise a brow, hm.
You’re plenty aware that Bruce Wayne may as well own the city, and it doesn’t surprise you in the slightest he likes to keep up to date on what’s going on, more so than him knowing to reach out to you and Superman. The group has been careful, and yes, while it makes sense for Bruce to have connections to people who could inform him of anything going on anywhere - and he certainly has the wealth to manage such a system - you still can’t help but be curious as to why he asked for you. Did he know the group came from Metropolis? That explains why you and Superman are here, but how did Bruce know that? How?
You pull the porcelain cup away from your lips. Now he’s really got your attention.
The most obvious question comes to mind first, “Where you’d hear that from, if you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Wayne?”
The wealthy man chuckles, a sort of naturally charming smirk growing on his face, “I have my ways,” of course someone like him would say that, “and, please, call me Bruce- ‘Mr. Wayne’ was my father.” With that, he took a sip of… what you assumed to be coffee by the faint smell. Curious.
“It’s fine, I insist,” your smile grows a bit before you move the conversation along, already getting a feel what was at play here, “anyway, what would you like to know, and about what, Mr. Wayne?” The huff that escapes him at your ‘insistence’ is incredibly amusing to hear, but you see he just brushes it off, and also decides to leave it be.
“Very well then, I’m sure you’ve seen it- or at least heard of it, officer, but…” Bruce goes onto explain the little he can, and though he is only able to vaguely describe what he means, you know what he’s talking about, and Superman seems to as well. Though, curiously enough, he asks you for details first.
Of course, you insist that Superman is more than suitable to give basic details, but when the hero himself insists, well, it doesn’t take much for you to relent.
When told to start from the beginning, you just say how originally there was a call about some loud and strange noises coming from someone’s neighbor, so, being the officer closest to the building, naturally you were put to the task to deal with the problem. The only thing was that, when you got there, well, the sight was gruesome, and when you finally got the door open thanks to a stray shot someone had taken - well, they were just about finishing up. You stated how originally you thought you had walked in a group suicide, and didn’t think anything else was going on until a similar instance popped up, and then another, and another. How, before you knew it, you were following a loose, bread crumb trail of similar situations that had the same outcome once an outsider arrived at the scene.
“Really, no one knows what it was, at first,” you try to explain, “but, again, before you know it, we’re trying to catch these guys before they even know we’re there, and find them doing these weird meetings, chanting, doing all sorts of rituals, and the like. They wouldn’t wear robes and do all of that cliche stuff- but they did all have some kind of marking somewhere on their person, nothing really seemed to connect the deaths besides the marking, and the most we could gather is that the place of the mark on a person’s body was symbolic to them. Though, that’s just a running theory. We haven’t had anyone able to actually confirm that yet.”
Bruce raises a brow, “Like… a similar injury or something? A symbol?”
You make a so-so gesture with your hand, “Yes, but it can differ from each person. It’s odd, but it’s like their way of showing some kind of connection, without making it too obvious that they’re all connected. Though, there are some similarities, like how the marking is carved into the skin, and represents a star or circle or eclipse of some kind.”
Superman agrees, adding, “I haven’t seen many of the symbols myself, but those I have did seem to show the sun in some way, but more often than not, it’s like they were trying to imply a blocked out sun.”
“Like a solar eclipse?” Bruce tries to confirm, brows furrowing.
“Yes,” Superman nods, though you notice how he starts to pale slightly. Hm.
From there, you go on and explain what you can - not going into full detail, but seemingly giving all the information you could provide, and to a civilian at that. With Superman chipping in every now and again, including some of what he’s seen and experienced on his own as well, which was… enlightening. More so than you thought when you originally saw him, but interesting all the same. Though, you do take note of just how little he’s giving as well. Most of his powers are no secret if you know who to ask, and just from that alone, you knew he wasn’t saying as much as he could, but didn’t press or even try to push. After all, you were just a police officer, weren’t you?
Regardless, the conversation goes on for a little longer. With you even mentioning how the group is normally separated, and each subdivision acts as their own entity despite reacting the same to being ‘caught’ and having very similar practices. Some will try to spread what they preach through acting as a church, and only letting in their most devout followers, to more lowkey approaches such as hiding what they’re really doing through parties, or college club activities, and so on. No official name is known about the group, and aside from the markings, similarities in practices, and whatever it is they preach, there is another thing that ties them together - and it’s arguably the biggest tie all the groups have to one another.
“It’s an event they keep mentioning, but no one knows what it really is. Considering their other… practices, everyones a little concerned to find out what it entails, but if you ask me, it could also be something they use to scare new followers- even if it sounds… well, for lack of a better term, ‘edgy’.” Bruce raises a brow at your words, and gestures for you to continue.
“Well… don’t leave me hanging, what’s the event called?”
“The Red Dawn.”
“... Do you have any idea what they even mean by that?”
“Not a clue, sorry, Mr. Wayne. Though, I doubt it’s anything to worry about. The only ones these people seem to be hurting is themselves, after all, and while I do intend to stop them and put an end to this, I doubt they’ll hurt anyone outside of their little ‘circle’.”
“Oh… alrighty, then.” Taking a sip of his cup, Bruce lets the information settle in before deciding to ask, “Do you think that could be the name of their group? Especially if they care about that ‘event’ so much, it wouldn’t be too far-fetched to assume that, right? Not the most creative thing to do… but it makes some kind of sense, no?”
You offer a small smile, as if trying to reassure the man, “I highly doubt it. If that was their name, we would’ve known by now with the months that have passed, and besides, while that does seem to be an event they are focused on- I think it's only that. Just another small thing that just so happens to connect all the groups together or a name they go by as a collective, and even then it would suggest a kind of unity that we just don’t see in the group. As similar as they are, they are still divided. Well, from what we could gather, anyway.”
Bruce only gives a nod, “I see…”
With that, after a bit longer of conversing, you’re essentially let go. Bruce thanks you for the information, and sends you on your way, but not before mentioning a party he plans to host on Halloween with one last flash of a smile despite the conversation you just had, and Superman gives you a wave, saying he hopes to see you back in Metropolis soon, and to keep up the good work - but only when he’s essentially made to stay when Bruce says he has more questions to ask the hero. You don’t bother to question it, and just let Alfred lead you to the door - who wishes you the best of luck on the case, and to have a good day. Bruce Wayne was rich, you wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out he had some special relationship with half the heroes on Earth, but that wasn’t worth thinking about now.
Especially not when you noticed someone at the door.
“... Should I ask why a kid like you is trying to hide in his own bushes, or is it just some ‘teenager thing’ I don’t understand, Thomas?” At the sound of your voice, and the sudden call out, Duke tenses and practically springs to life all over again as he jumps and practically scrambles to keep himself straight. You raise a brow at the defensive stance he initially takes, but upon noticing you, the teenager eases, and lets out a sigh of relief.
Clearing his throat, he says, “Uh, hi, officer [Last Name]! I… didn’t realize it would be over so soon! Haha!” His nervous response gets a snicker out of you, which only seems to further his own embarrassment, and thus, makes you more amused.
Though, you spare him some of the torment and don’t openly laugh at him, and instead just ask, “What’re you doing out here, kid? Can’t you just head inside? Since, y’know, you live here?” You tease a little, resting your hands on your hips, “Or am I mistaken?”
Duke chuckles awkwardly at your words, straightening himself out, shifting in place a bit, “No- no, I just… wanted some air?” He didn’t sound too sure of himself, but you let the teenager be, and just gave a nod.
“Right. Well, enjoy the outdoors in the bushes, Thomas, I’ll see you soon.” With one last amused grin, you take your leave, and once again wave behind you.
Honestly, you thought you’d just walk off silently once again, but this time, a yell is heard from behind you after you hear some shuffling around and the sound of rustling leaves.
“Wait-! Uh- Thanks for the muffin and small snacks from yesterday! They were really good!” You hear Duke shout, “Have a good day!” He seems to mumble something under his breath, but you’re too far away to hear it.
Regardless, you just continue to walk, and soon shove both your hands in your pockets.
You walk away with a smile.
-----------------------
Back in the Manor, Bruce takes a long sip of his coffee, and looks over to Clark - who looks down at the cup of tea in his hands.
“So?”
The super runs a hand through his hair, taking a moment to respond, but even then he seems confused, almost distressed, “It lines up, but I’ll be honest, Bruce. I don’t remember half of what they mentioned. Even the half I did remember… some of it I could barely recall.”
The vigilante stops, becoming too still to pause, and yet not stiff enough to freeze as he just stares at Clark. It’s only after a few beats of silence, and setting his cup to the side that he’s able to ask the only sensible question to a response like that, “What do you mean?”
Clark takes another second, running his hand down from his hair, to his neck and rubbing the muscle there, as if trying to soothe himself before taking in a deep breath, “Y’know that church [Last Name] mentioned? Yeah, I tried to do some research of my own, and went in as a curious journalist who was just trying to see what the church was like, and so on- you know how it is. I got there for the first sermon, bright and early, but when the pastor started to talk… well, the next thing I know is that I’m outside of the church, the service ended, and it’s now night. I was there all day, but didn’t remember any of it. I even checked my notes and everything- nothing. Like all I did was just… sit there, and then leave after everything was done.” It’s then that he looks at Bruce, distress a little clearer now.
“Of course, I tried a few more times, but the same thing kept happening, and the only thing that changed was that I started to feel sick- just really… gross and horrible all over, like going to each service was literally draining the energy out of me- and I noticed it wasn’t just the church either. I’d try to help out with bigger cases that dealt with the group and sometimes I’d just suddenly end up somewhere totally different, with no memory of how I got there, or what I did during that time.” He takes a breath, caressing the fragile china in his hands, and he raises the cup to his lips, but doesn’t take a sip right away. Instead, he lets it sit there, barely an inch in front of his face. “It wasn’t so bad at first. Just a few seconds or minutes lost with nothing really being done- it was harmless, just a little disorientating at times, but nothing to really worry about. But then… then it got longer the more I tried to help and involved myself with solving the problem. I lost countless minutes, even hours, and ended up in areas with little to no memory of how I got there, and decided it was best to pull away when an entire week had passed, with me having no memory of what happened, what I did, or where I even was- which was hundreds of miles away from Metropolis.”
It’s only as Clark takes another sip of his tea, which is a little cold by now, does Bruce use that opportunity to speak. Not only to get to the bottom of this, but to help his friend with this as well - since it’s clearly distressing the super one way or another.
“Do you think it’s some form of mind control?” When Clark shakes his head, Bruce gives him time to gather his thoughts and explain.
“I’m… not sure. Naturally, I tried to not get as involved, but couldn’t let the group spread or- or let them do whatever they wanted freely, so I asked for some help and it had… varying results.” He takes a moment to sigh, finishing the tea as he sets it to the side, and tries to find a way to say what he was thinking, “Some of those who are nonhuman were like me- they’d start to feel horribly sick after a few days, and lose track of time, starting out in small amounts, and eventually jumping to days and weeks, the others… well, they were like our human allies.”
The vigilante’s brows crease at that, “... Which means?”
Clark scratches the back of his neck, looking away as he tries to gather his thoughts, “I don’t know how exactly to explain it- but after some time, they’d become… too interested in the case. Trying to get more involved with things then they needed to be, and basically became… well, I don’t know if there’s a better term to use, but they almost seemed obsessed with the group, Bruce. It was.. horrible to watch, and I guess I just want to say…” he drags on, not sure if he should add more or not, but his heart gets the best of him, and he sighs heavily. Looking back at Bruce, he continues, “Please, be careful with this. You and your family. I really mean it, please.”
Bruce takes a moment to look at his friend, and take in the concerned look on his face. This wasn’t the first time the super had expressed his concerns, but if there was ever a moment that felt like Clark would genuinely do something if Bruce didn’t listen, or really wanted him to take what he was saying seriously, since Clark himself knew how Bruce is and could be - this would be one of them. The super was always openly and naturally caring, even if he worried too much at times, but something felt different this time around, and that was saying something.
Still, Bruce could only nod after a sigh of his own, “We’ll try our best,” is the best he could give.
… A moment of silence passes. With Alfred taking the opportunity to refill Clark’s cup, and allowing Bruce to finish his. It’s a gesture, in a way, to let the super relax, and to remind him that if he needed a small break, then he was more than welcome to take it here - and Clark seemed to realize that as he let himself ease slightly. This whole thing had taken its toll on the super, that was obvious from how he’s been acting all day thus far, and the worst part of it all was that it wasn’t even over. However, there also wasn’t an immediate need to acknowledge that right now, and so, both men took in this little breather, knowing they’d have to get back to work once it ended - and when that happens, who knows when they’ll get a chance to breathe like this again?
It’s that very thought that makes it stretch on for just a little longer, lasting until Bruce is on his second cup, and Clark is nearly on his third - and only then is it broken when Bruce asks, “What were you talking about before, when you said you didn’t think they’d ‘settle’ in Gotham too?”
With one last small sip, Clark says, “A while ago, I heard some of the voices I recognized as members of the group were getting further away, almost spreading out. I couldn’t tell where they were headed exactly, but they just seemed to… disburse. Go their separate ways,” a brow of his furrows again as he adds, “I don’t know if anything caused them to move, or if the directions they went in and the cities they possibly went to, was some calculated move- but I do suspect it was an organized effort. For what? I couldn’t say, but more mentions of that ‘Red Dawn’ [Last Name] talked about earlier did pop up around the city for a day or two before anyone went anywhere.”
Bruce hums at the information, taking mental notes before asking, “Is it possible that some members might still be in Metropolis and other cities near there?”
The super thinks for a moment, but eventually nods, “I wouldn’t see why not, and I could check to find out as many groups as I can, and try to keep you updated on that end.”
“That’d be a big help, Clark. Thanks,” Bruce gives a nod of his own, and Clark smiles.
“Of course! Anything to help, Bruce.”
———————————————
Despite the morning that had transpired, the night was relatively normal - it was for Jason, anyway. If anything, it seemed to lack a little more action than it usually did, but hey, the night was still young, and in Gotham it was always too early to make that kind of call.
Regardless, Jason just went about his night. Taking out a few criminals he ran into here and there, staying out of sight of his old man and Cass, the usual. Nothing stood out, and honestly Jason was starting to think that nothing outside of the ordinary would actually happen. Though, that is until he notices some shady looking people sneak their way behind a building, and hears a garage door open from where he was standing. Now, what was going on there…?
“BOO!”
Just as Jason took a step forward, about to tail the shady figures, he felt a sudden weight on his head, shoulders - which caused him to stumble on his footing, and though he barely caught himself, the vigilante found himself irritated as he yelped out a, “WHAT THE HELL-?!”
Giggling could be heard above him, “Did I scare ya? Admit it! I got you that time!” The grin was even evident in her voice, and Jason didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
“Get the hell off of me, Steph!” Jason hissed out instead, completely ignoring the fact he had ‘caught’ her on instinct, not wanting her to fall off and risk hurting herself with her reckless behavior.
“Aw, c’mon! I totally got you!” Stephanie said loudly with a laugh, only to yelp when she was practically thrown off of Jason’s shoulders, and even if she swiftly caught herself she still looked at Jason and huffs, crossing her arms, “Why can’t you just admit it? There’s no need to be so rude about it, y’know!”
Jason just scoffs, “You didn’t get me, okay? Just leave me alone, squirt.”
Stephanie, of course, doesn’t and sticks around - and as annoyed as Jason acts, he does little to actually push her away. The banter continues, and for a moment they are more than just two vigilantes, but instead, family in their own simple yet messy way. Both of their definitions of such a thing skewed, warped, and changed as they’ve grown up and lived through their lives, along with their definition of love, but now, something like that didn’t seem to matter. It didn’t, and even as they went after the shady figures Jason had seen earlier, it only seemed to matter less as the banter continued.
Dealing with crime in Gotham was always the same, and growing up on the streets made it easier to adapt to the different locations criminals liked to tuck themselves into - so much so that each location almost felt the same. The routine was familiar, sneak into the place, try to pick up on whatever was going on, and put a stop to it. Smugglers were common, nothing new, but what was curious was seeing how much of their supplies they had - guys must’ve been stacking up for weeks, maybe longer, but that didn’t matter. A trade of some kind was clearly going on, and as always, it was their job to figure out what was going on and to stop it.
Sticking to the shadows was second nature for numerous reasons, and the conversation they overheard sounded like the same one they’ve heard time and time again - seriously, did anyone ever think of something new to say? Or any other way to say things?
“You’ve got it?” “The load of it that was designated to us, yes.” “Is it ready?” “Yes.” “Are you certain?” “You know we can’t stall. Just take the load, and take it to the next destination.”
“Right.”
Just as the other spokes person made a gesture for the people behind them to gather the goods, that’s when the first strike was dealt. Stephanie had snuck up on a guy, and got things started, and as usual, the people pulled their guns - so Jason got to work.
Yet, just as he fired the first shot at someone’s shoulder, and they fired their own, did the vigilantes realize where the guns were actually pointed.
The criminals had their guns pointed at one another.
The shot Jason fired hit its mark, but so did the other as in one instance, Stephanie had someone in a chokehold, and in the next - there was no brain to send air too anymore. No eyes to roll back, and while the body went limp, what remained of the head was splattered on the young vigilante, and the space behind her.
More went off, and it took Jason a second too late to spring into action, and Stephanie a few more as the gunshots kept going off - and yet not a single bullet got close to her direction, unlike that first one. There was always a body in the way, and god, all she felt was sick. Though, when practically shoved to the side by Jason did she snap out of it a little, and try to save whoever was left.
They worked in a frenzy, trying to do what they could - even if Jason found out very quickly that just getting them out of the way wasn’t enough, as he heard a weird crunch come from the mouth of the woman he just saved, only for her to give a twisted smile before she started to seize, foam at the mouth, and he could do nothing as he watched her eyes roll to the back of her head but curse.
“DON’T LET THEM CLOSE THEIR MOUTHS! THEY’RE POISONING THEMSELVES!”
Oh, but Jason said it too late, as Stephanie also had the vial pleasure of watching the body seize and subsequently die in her arms despite her own attempts. They still tried, of course, because what else could they really do? Yet, the result was the same. It was like watching a massacre, except… well, the very people who died caused it.
All wasn’t lost as they were able to save two people out of the handful they had run into in the storage space, but at least it was something, right?
One of the criminals didn’t speak, and only glared at the vigilantes, while the other laughed suddenly as the two tried to catch their breaths. The man’s gruff laugh cutting through the deafening silence, blood now coating the walls, bodies lying about… how could anyone laugh at a time like this? Especially when his supposed comrades have just died right in front of him?... Not that the person glaring at them looks any more distraught or distressed at all by this turn of events.
When the man starts to speak, that sickened feeling Stephanie felt before grows, and a similar seed is planted in Jason’s gut - and that really said something, since they’ve heard maniacs go on all kinds of long winded rants unprompted… but this felt different. It lacked the sick humor of Joker explaining his schemes, or the thought and linguists put behind Riddler’s verbal puzzles, and just felt misplaced. As a pair, as vigilantes they’ve heard plenty of talks just like this, and yet… something about it stopped Jason from pulling the trigger early, or from either of them doing something to stop the man, and to just shut him up. Perhaps the sight they just witnessed was taking its toll on them now, but that coupled with this? This wasn’t just some run of the mill thing. This was deliberate, but wasn’t a trap either.
Still, the man goes on, even when his voice becomes hoarse as his vocals fight against the restraint put in between his teeth - just enough space to make him unable to not poison himself with… whatever chemical he had that’d do him in like the others who still had their heads intact. They strain as he wheezes out a laugh, actions rough for someone tied down, and left sitting on his ass. Just as his nails bloody as he scratches at his restraints, his own words scratch at his throat the more he speaks. So much so that instead of spit, blood flies out as he continues, going on about some higher being, how they’ve helped him see the light, and how just their presence alone has made him understand what ‘needs to be done’. How he knows they will guide him to a better end, because he can feel it when he’s close, that he is doing the right thing, and that they have become so connected with… whoever he’s describing, that even being in the city now satisfies him enough, and makes him see sense even in the most vial of situations.
It’s all nonsense, it has to be, of course it is - yet they listen anyway, unwillingly, unable to move, and he doesn’t stop. Will he ever?
“This world will experience a new beginning! A chance to be reborn anew, to be remade! And only by the best, as they are the only one who can be trusted with such a task!” The man’s laugh almost sounds like a bowl coupled with a growl at this point, “The skies will turn red, the night will vanish and be replaced with a light never seen before as we are all accepted into paradise! The sun will encapsulate the sky in a way it never has before, and reveal the true colors that the world has kept away from us! It will be one! We will be one! It was always meant to be one!”
Red runs down from his lips, and yet he continues despite the strain in his voice as his shouts become louder, practically booming in the small space, “The waters will churn like acid in the stomach, eyes will be drawn to the vessel who will bring upon the awakening of the world, and everyone’s hearts will be taken ahold of as they all come to realize that we are in good hands! Everyone should just accept the end for it is already upon us!” A wheeze escaped instead of a chuckle, but what it is intended to be is not lost on anyone.
“Just a few more measly days remain! Just a little longer and we will all be blessed with the sight of a new day! A new life! A new purpose! The Red Dawn w-”
Finally, it all comes to an abrupt end with one last gun shot. A shot, which goes through the man’s head, and pierces through it so cleanly, that it goes into the other person who was beside him, and drills a similar hole in their head - only stopping when it digs enough to crawl out of that second head, and land on the ground. The gleam of its shine almost innocent, as if it hadn’t killed the last two people who remained of the self-massacre - and now, it is only that. A complete, and utter massacre.
The shot brought both Stephanie and Jason out of the strange trance they found themselves under and tried to recover as quickly as they could. Jason sprung to action and tried to rush out and find whoever killed the people they tried to save- with Stephanie reporting to Bruce.
She tried to explain everything that had happened as hurriedly as she could, feeling sicker than ever and having to force herself to look away from the bodies, along the two new additions to the pile. Honestly, she didn’t even realize she had been hyperventilating until Bruce had her try to calm down, and take deep breaths - and yet every breath she took, she could only smell blood, earth, and an odd hint of something sweet that settled on the back of her tongue. Everything about it made her want to throw up, but she managed and tried to compose herself as much as she could.
When asked what was being smuggled, Stephanie looked over to the sacks stacked on top of each other neatly against the wall. Stepping over a few of the bodies, and trying to not look down more than she needed to - she took down one of the sacks and… what?
“It’s- it’s soil?” Why had these people killed themselves over this? There’s no way that this dirt could be worth dying over, right? Maybe it was a cover up. It has to be. It has to.
So, she cuts the bag open and soil spills out, except it looks… weird, “It- it’s either dirt or some weird moss, because there is no way this stuff is supposed to look this red.”
That does it for Bruce, and on his end, he quietly glances at Cassandra before looking out to the city once again, “Bring some of it in if you can, and bring Jason with you.” His voice is firm, and leaves no room for argument… as always.
[“Right, talk to you in a bit, B.”] With that, the connection is temporarily disconnected, and Bruce switches the lines, and immediately talks to Barbara again. Something about how while Superman is doing his search, they have to cover their own bases, and Barbara offers to call Dick to see if he’s run into something similar, and if he’s willing to help out here so they can get everything figured out faster, and Bruce lets her get to it would a simple thanks.
Cassandra can’t help but simply observe, curious as to what’s really going on, but getting a feeling that it’s nothing good. She can see that in the posture of Bruce, but it’s not just him - it’s the commissioner, the officers at the station, and so on. Yet kept so underwraps, that only does actively searching for it can feel it, as the civilians remain unaware, and go on with their lives. Though, something does bother her a little.
She didn’t see you much tonight, but when she did, you seemed just as tired and drained as you did the other night, and yet, there was no evidence of distress. Yes, there was some form of stress there, but you weren’t overly tense or even panicked, and while Cassandra didn’t know much, she could gather enough that something big could be happening. So why weren’t you more concerned? More… paranoid and just generally showed more signs of some inner turmoil like her father? You’ve been involved in this case for longer than he has, and yet… you’re the calmest one compared to everyone else. Cassandra can’t help but wonder why.
… Perhaps it’s about time she helped out in whatever was going on.
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dyns33 · 2 days ago
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Flufftober 2024 - 29 Eddie Brock / Venom
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Y/N had met Vee during a Halloween party.
A little intimidated by the crowd and not knowing anyone, she had stayed in her corner for a good part of it, until this giant with his incredible costume came to talk to her.
It would be a lie to say that she had not found him adorably charming, and she would have liked them to be more than friends, if he had not spent most of the time talking to her about his Eddie.
It was obvious that there was something strong and unique between Vee and this Eddie, even if he did not seem to appreciate him at his true value.
"He never agrees with me… He wants to control everything !" he had sobbed against her shoulder. "He says that I won't even be good at cleaning toilets."
"That's not nice. Maybe this relationship is not very healthy."
"But I love Eddie. He takes care of me and even though he's a stupid loser, he tries a lot. Maybe… Maybe I'm too hard on him."
"It's normal to have expectations from your partner. You need to sit down and communicate, to see what's wrong and find solutions."
"You're right, little morsel ! You're a good friend !"
Obviously very busy, Vee kept in touch with her by calling her almost every night and sending her messages, but never having time to see her.
He used Eddie's phone, while he slept. Before meeting her, Vee had never seen the point of having one, and he contacted her secretly because he found it funny to have a secret all to himself.
"But I'll tell him at some point, because we share everything. We're in symbiosis, we're one."
"That's cute. Do you think he'll be angry ?"
"No. Scared maybe."
"Oh." she wondered. "Is he the jealous type ? He'll be afraid that I'll steal you from him ?"
"I'd rather be afraid that he'll steal you from me, I think he'll love you a lot. And that's why he'll be afraid for you. He'll think I want to eat your brain."
Sometimes she didn't understand everything he said, but she found him funny and considered that he simply had a particular sense of humor.
But after several months of talking to him, he finally ended up running into him while a guy was trying to take her purse in an alley.
Vee jumped from a rooftop, growled at the thief, grabbing him with one hand, before biting his head off. Then he turned to Y/N, smiling.
"Eddie, she's my friend."
"Y/N ?" a voice that seemed to come from inside him asked. "Great, Vee, she's not going to freak out at all because you just killed someone. I already told you to go get some chickens if you were hungry."
"You never let me do anything ! He was mean ! He was attacking my Y/N !"
"Let me talk to her, okay ? So I don't traumatize her more than necessary."
In the end, Venom was an alien, and Eddie his host, a man not as horrible as she had imagined, simply trying to keep his symbiote from doing too much mischief so that they wouldn't be spotted by the government.
They fought often but they couldn't live without each other. Literally for Venom, even if they also loved each other too much to want to be apart.
As he had expected, the human had panicked a bit when he learned that he had a friend, that she didn't really know what he was, and that they were therefore putting her in danger just by talking to her. But Eddie had understood that she was important. He had felt it.
When Vee said that they shared everything, he was dead serious.
"I showed him a picture of you. He got an erection."
"Vee !" Eddie shouted, trying to silence the head floating next to his shoulder. "Shut up ! Those are not things to say ! Excuse him."
"Why ? I like Y/N, and you like her too, and she likes us. Her pheromones don't lie."
"Vee ! You're making everyone uncomfortable, stop."
"See ? He never agrees, he controls everything."
Y/N saw clearly, now understanding many things that had seemed a bit strange to her. She could have run away, but despite this surprising discovery, she really liked Vee, and Eddie seemed as charming as he was.
So she suggested that they spend the next Halloween, all together this time.
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2pndr · 1 day ago
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Dinner In a Winter Wonderland
Hi! This is my first ever fic! Hope you enjoy it :D
Winter x Male Reader Fluff
8.4k words (sorry)
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“We’ll only agree if you guys bring along a fourth friend, ok?”
Your three friends all recited to you the conditions a “goddess” had set for the Christmas quadruple date they were dragging you into.
You sat at your desk, speechless as you scanned the pleading faces of your roommates and long-time friends, stunned by their brazen appeals to you. It was probably that last sentence that bamboozled you the most though. Sure you were the closest to them, but it’s not like they were short on other friends. Why did you of all people have to come along?
“Why me of all people?” you asked again, this time out loud.
“Well, apparently, they have a you in their friend group too,” one of your friends began.
“A me?” you scoffed.
“Yeah, a you,” he continued. “Y’know, a stubborn, reclusive homebody who needs to be dragged out of their room every time their friends wanna hang out. All because they enjoy their ‘me time’ a little too much,” he joked, perhaps a bit too accurately imitating your increasingly weak excuses to leave the dorm.
“Ha, ha,” you mocked.
“No seriously! Apparently, her name’s Winter.”
“Winter?” You stifled a snicker. “Like the season? That’s her real name?”
“I mean, that’s what they told us,” your friend replied with a shrug. “Who cares? It’s kinda cute.”
You silently agreed, hiding a smirk as to not concede that your interest was piqued. “So let me get this straight,” you began, folding your arms in an attempt to appear unfazed. “The only reason I’m being dragged along is because you guys need someone to pair up with some girl who—what?—shares my hate for leaving the house? The hell’s in this for me?” You asked, feigning anger.
“Dude, it’ll be a perfect match!” another friend enticed, desperately trying to paint the situation in an appealing light. “You both don’t like leaving your rooms, you both hate meeting new people. It’s like the universe is aligning for you two to meet.”
Did he even realise the irony of that sentence?
“C'mon man, spending Christmas alone in your room three years in a row is some of the saddest shit I’ve ever seen,” The first one remarked.
Well he wasn’t wrong, but you couldn’t let him get any ground.
“Some people can’t help it,” You retorted.
“Well those people probably don’t have a chance to go out with the most attractive women they’ll ever see.”
You scowled, about to add fuel to the fire before your third friend cut you off.
“Think about it,” he chimed in, shifting the conversation away from an argument. “If she’s anything like you, she’ll probably want this whole thing over with as fast as you do.”
“Uh, huh…” You leaned back in your chair, tamed, but staring at the ceiling unconvinced. A girl like you? With how active the rest of the campus was, you found it hard to believe there was actually someone out there like you—someone cynical and uncomfortable with social gatherings of any form. 
To be clear, you didn't have poor social skills—in fact, you’d argue you had a certain way with words—you just avoided any chance to use them. You had a knack in discerning the smallest shift in someone’s expression, adjusting your tone, words and body language to suit. But that knack was often overshadowed by an unshakable urge to assess, to weigh every syllable and gesture, scanning for the faintest sign of discomfort or misinterpretation.
This hyperawareness turned into a road-block for any conversation. Instead of letting the flow guide you, you’d find yourself scrutinising every word you said the instant it left your mouth, wondering if it had landed right, if it was too much or too little, or if you’d somehow veered into awkward territory. The more you tried to keep things smooth, the more you’d find yourself caught in these spirals of self-correction, only to create the very awkwardness you’d been trying to avoid. 
So in the rare case you did end up at a social event, it was like you were playing a part. You stuck to the same few openings, the same practised routes for small talk. There was nothing organic or genuine about the performance, nothing personal or meaningful. It was merely for show—a facade to keep up appearances.
It was all exhausting, and that’s what you had reiterated to your friends time and time again.
Regardless of your scepticism though, a strange part of you was actually a little curious. Not about the date itself—no, that was still a nightmare—but about this mysterious girl who apparently shared your introversions.
“Look, all we’re asking for is one night,” one pleaded, hands glued together as if he was in prayer. “One night! Just hang out with her for a couple hours while we chat up her friends, and you never have to do this again. You don’t have to see her again, talk to her again or anyone else if we ever ask.  We’ll owe you big time.”
“Seriously dude, we’ll pitch in for the PS5 Pro or something!” another added in further pleas.
You let out a long sigh, staring this time down at your desk. Not in a million years would you even consider buying that atrocious excuse for a cash grab, but the sentiment of your friends owing you that colossal amount was admittedly tempting.
And then there was this Winter girl. The one who was apparently as much of a hermit as you were. You couldn’t ignore that meeting her was happening during Christmas, the very time of year you tried to avoid going out the most. But you almost couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person she was, if she really was as closeted as you or just some exaggerated myth your friends had conjured up to lure you out. It shouldn’t have, but just the idea of her tickled something deep in your brain, flooding your subconscious with various guesses of her character. 
Your mind conjured up an amalgamation of the most attractive women you had seen throughout your life; famous actresses and idols, the cute barista at the Starbucks down the road, that one girl at the airport who caught your eye but you never ended up talking to.  Their looks, personalities, whatever alluring details you could recall were being melted together and forged into what became your own expectation of Winter. 
You imagined a stunning slim and quiet girl—that much was obvious—with milky white hair, and fair complexion. They were traits all befitting of a girl named Winter. But in your mind something about her attitude, her facial expressions… they radiated… cold. It wasn’t unlike how you appeared to strangers—irrationally concealing your timid fear of interaction with a stiff stare and an emotionless face. As  you considered how similar your vision of her felt to you, it was strangely… warm…familiar. 
Within a matter of seconds, your apprehension had transformed to a hesitant desire to meet her. Or rather, this idea of her you had thrown together. 
You sat in a long silence, wrestling with your inner turmoil—your shameful, uncharacteristic urge to discover the truth about this girl. 
Seriously man? You asked yourself. There’s no way in hell she’d look anything like that if she was anything like you. 
Your asshole of a subconscious did have a point. 
But something about this tugged at you in a way you couldn’t help but notice. If this girl was like you, really like you, you had to know.
 “Alright,” you eventually grumbled, putting a hand over your face to suppress the oncoming wave of regret already washing over you. “I’ll go.”
Your friends erupted in cheers, high-fiving and dapping each other up like they had just won themselves a date with the hottest girls on campu–Oh.
“YES! You’re the man!” one of them yelled, giving you a ‘pat’ on the back that almost knocked you out of your chair.
"You won’t regret this!" another exclaimed, jabbing a finger toward you, though deep down, you already kind of did.
“FUCK YEAH!” the last one punched to the sky. “We owe you man,” smiling from ear-to-ear as cheers followed him out of your room.
As you hastily cleared the other two from your territory, you felt the dread settling in. One night, that’s all it was, you told yourself. Just one night with this girl named Winter, who was probably as opposed to this as you were.
What’s the worst that could happen?
---
Before you knew it, you were in your friend’s car, dressed in your Sunday’s best—which, admittedly, was a hastily thrown together fusion of your roommates’ closets. An attempt had been made to make your less than desirable features appear at least mildly presentable to the outside world. Your hair had been styled with some expensive hair product you could barely pronounce, your caveman scent obscured by some B-list celebrity’s cologne, and your abhorrent posture—honed through years of agonising abuse to your spine—was being corrected by your friends’ frustrated hands what felt like every other second. 
They had half-jokingly, half-100%-seriously subjected you to some correction exercises over the past few days, few of which you actually bothered to attempt. Obviously, the few you had tried didn’t work, as your friend had stopped bothering to correct your posture himself, instead resorting to giving you a stinging slap every time your spine inevitably slumped from upright.
 The swelling of the handprint forming on your back had charitably distracted you from the metric-shit ton of adrenaline coursing through your veins. It caused your breathing to grow heavy and your heart to feel it was going to burst from your chest. A couple sleepless nights and a few too many hours of staring blankly at your PC monitor had transformed your strange curiosity for meeting Winter back into dread. 
You had moronically forgotten you actually had to talk to this girl for a couple hours instead of just confirming if she was similar to you. Either you forced some kind of pitiful attempt at conversation with her—risking major embarrassment—or both of you succumb to sitting in introverted silence. 
Even if you could properly wrestle with overusing your little talent, the fact was, any attraction whatsoever to a girl caused you to fold like a cheap suit, rendering your ability useless. If  Winter was any bit as alluring as your mind made her out to be it would be more than disastrous for you. It would be like every ounce of composure was swapped out for a hyperactive inner monologue—one that left you stumbling over your own thoughts.
As your friend’s car hummed along the bustling holiday streets, your mind continued to spin in overdrive almost as quickly as the neon red and green of the city's Christmas ornaments seemed to appear and disappear all around you. You aimed  to avoid risking any conversation that led to your humiliation, desperately mapping out the possible routes for conversation. This process was standard yet exhaustive at this point—your own RPG dialogue tree being mapped out in your mind.
"Hey, nice to meet you. How’s it going?"
"Fine."
[ No further options.]
You could already feel the weight of the dead-end conversation dragging the both of you down. That wasn’t going to work.
“So, what kind of stuff are you into?"
"Not much."
 [FAILED: Charisma check too low.]
Your mind projected you staring at the ceiling, desperately trying to find something, anything, to say while Winter twiddled her thumbs, wondering out loud with a groan,“Why did I even bother to show up.”
 What the fuck brain? That wasn’t helping your confidence at all.
“Hey, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
"Yeah, same."
[Neutral response. Proceed carefully.]
This felt promising. You could try pushing deeper, maybe ask a follow-up question, but you could already feel how you would screw it all up—one wrong word, one wrong look and kaput.
How about…
[Say Nothing.]
[No response.]
Yeah, that’s probably how it’s gonna go.
The car hit a bump in the road, and so did your only shred of confidence in this turning out well. You sighed quietly to yourself, senselessly running through these hypothetical scenarios in your head, frantically searching for the “good” dialogue option that simply wasn’t available to you. There was no save scumming in real life, no charisma stat to help you bluff and charm your way through the whole thing, no getting lucky with your dice rolls either. It was just your limited social ability, a few thinly veiled attempts at small talk, and the faint hope that Winter might somehow be interested in having a conversation. It all reminded you why you avoided these kinds of situations in the first place…
You suck at them.
What felt like eternity with your own thoughts was soon interrupted as the car pulled up to the curb. You noticed the Christmas themed sign of the barbeque restaurant in the evening dusk. You stared at it, utterly terrified like it was signalling the entrance to some twisted version of hell—a place where your date, crowds of people, and the inevitable crushing embarrassment of being out of your element awaited—your hell. 
Your friends on the other hand were already pumped, talking over each other in excitement as they recounted for the hundredth time just how hot these girls they scored were. Meanwhile, you were still stuck somewhere between resignation and panic. Their voices blended into background noise—drowned out by the mental gymnastics you were performing to figure out how to survive the next couple of hours. You hadn’t even walked into the restaurant yet, and you already felt like retreating into the comforting embrace of your bed sheets back home.
As you resolved to follow your friends inside you were instantly hit by a wall of warmth, thick with the smell of grilling meat and the hum of lively holiday celebrants. The restaurant was buzzing—waiters weaving between tables, the sizzling of meats echoing from grills, and laughter rippling across the room like a contagious wave. Already the ‘energy’ in here was too much for you, prompting you to  take a moment to adjust the atmosphere—all while your friends strode in like they owned the place. 
This was the kind of scene you’d typically steer clear of: crowded, chaotic, and packed with people who simply enjoyed the presence of others. The holiday season did nothing to ease your anxiety, doing its part to gather everyone together by filling every seat in the restaurant. You shoved your hands into the unfamiliar pockets of the jacket your friends threw on you, hyper aware of how out of place you felt.
 Your friends were greeted with warm smiles from the hostess—predictably, since they looked like they had just stepped off of the cover of Vogue magazine. Meanwhile, you were certain you looked like you’d rather be anywhere else.
She led you all to a private booth which was, thankfully, designated its own corner far away from the rest of the vivacious dynamic of the restaurant’s other patrons. Your relief didn’t last long though, as your heart leapt into your throat when you spotted four girls already sitting there. Three of them stood up to greet you, all endearing smiles, waves and the obligatory “Merry Christmas.”
Your fear was instantly frayed as the first girl began her introduction. Her name was Karina, and you were taken aback at how uncannily beautiful she was. In fact, it was almost unsettling how flawless she looked. It was like she had been engineered in a lab or generated by some AI algorithm designed to create the perfect face. Everything, right down to her sharp profile and unnaturally smooth skin was other-wordly perfect. A small mole dotted the edge of her chin, like an anchor tethering her otherwise impossibly symmetrical features to reality. She greeted your friends with a poised smile, but there was something behind her eyes—sharp, calculating, and trained on you—like she was sizing you up in particular.
But your mind paid that no attention as the next beauty introduced herself as Giselle—Her confident demeanour being the highlight for you. She moved with an ease that gave the impression she wasn’t fazed by anything or anyone. Her posture was relaxed, yet somehow commanding, exuding an energy that screamed, I’m hot, and I fuckin’ know it. The assertive eye contact she made with each of you as she introduced herself caused you to shrink back, almost out of respect for her authority. In contrast, her voice was steady and warm, but her eyes flicked back to Karina’s every so often, like the two of them were communicating without saying a word.
Then there was Ning Ning, who practically radiated excitement. Her lips curved into a smile that was bright and infectious, the kind that lit up her entire face. She greeted you all with a playful wave that bordered on adorable. Yet there was a switch in her—something in the way her expression shifted mid-conversation from lively and sweet to striking confidence—which could flip in an instant. She seemed to live in the moment though, completely detached from whatever silent exchange was happening between the other two. It was hard to tell if Ning Ning was more girl-next-door or temptress, and that fluidity made her all the more intriguing.
Your friends weren’t exaggerating. Each of them was stunning in their own way—like the kind of women you’d expect to see gracing the pages of a high-fashion magazine or as models strutting down a runway.
Yet, you couldn't help but notice the girl still seated at the inner end of the table, toying with her sleeves as the soft glow of her phone lit her face. Winter, you assumed. She didn’t stand, didn’t do so much as glance briefly at the four of you. But even in her stillness, she drew your attention. Her beauty wasn’t like Karina’s polished perfection or Giselle’s self-assured allure and most definitely not like Ning Ning’s bubbly charm. Winter appeared different—there was something so fundamentally distinct about her that interested you, piqued your curiosity when you thought you were infallible to such feelings. Regardless of what you heard about her, you found yourself encapsulated by nothing but her sheer beauty. 
As your eyes lingered on her you didn’t feel like you were looking at a person. Instead it was as if you were gazing upon the natural landmark of a frost-covered landscape—pure, serene, and silently breathtaking. It was as if she belonged more to the cold elegance of nature than to the warmth of human company. Her presence was subtle yet striking, like the clear, crisp air on a winter morning. The restaurant's soft, amber light caught her pale complexion in a way that made her seem almost ethereal, yet still grounded. Her silvery-white hair cascaded around her face like freshly fallen snow, soft and shimmering, as if her namesake itself had carefully crafted each strand to highlight her delicate features. Somehow, Winter lived up to that paradoxically beautiful expectation you had envisioned, but seeing her in person gave the impression she transcended it.
You stumbled through your own introduction to the rest of the girls, utterly captivated by what most people would consider a bad display of manners. Anybody in your shoes would have had their eyes glued to the trio of goddesses standing before you, but you could barely spare them a second—alright, a third glance. 
Predictably, the small talk that followed didn’t include you. Your friends however—more eager than you’ve ever seen them—quickly launched into banter with Karina, Giselle, and Ning Ning. Normally you would be in awe of how easy they made the whole thing look, but you could only half-listen, your thoughts and eyes constantly drifting toward Winter, who remained seated quietly at the end of the booth.
Eventually, Karina offered you all to sit, prompting one of your friends to shove you along to your side of the table. The little collision knocked you out of the fugue-like state you were in, drawing a quiet cry that caused laughter to erupt around you. Quickly realising that you’d be facing Winter, you hesitantly sat down, your eyes flicking back to her every now and then.
When she finally glanced your way, there was a brief pause, her cool eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, you were caught, held in the silence between you. Her gaze was steady, unwavering, but a hint of vulnerability showed itself as she studied you. Before you knew it, you were staring—completely absorbed by the depth in her eyes. They weren’t just cold or distant as you first thought—they were calm, almost reflective, like a still lake that hid something beneath its surface. The more you looked, the harder it became to pull yourself away.
Seconds passed—maybe more—and you didn’t even realise how long you’d been holding her gaze until your heart gave a sudden jolt, reminding you that you were looking at a person and not nature’s pièce de résistance. Embarrassment shot through you as you quickly broke eye contact, feeling a heat crawl up your neck.
“Winter, right?” Your voice came out much too casual, completely betraying the fact that you were just caught staring at her like an absolute buffoon. How did you already manage to mess this up?
Winter tilted her head ever so slightly, a small flicker of amusement ghosting over her lips before she nodded. She blinked more than once, her lashes fluttering to mask brief hesitation. Her gaze softened just slightly. “Yeah,” she replied simply. Her voice was soft, but clear. There was no hint of awkwardness or hesitation, but the slight shift in her posture, the way her fingers brushed the sleeve of her short said otherwise.                                                                            
You nodded, you’d only asked one question and you already felt like your dialogue options were exhausted. But on the bright side, the mere fact she replied meant things were already going better than they did in your head.
The silence between you both stretched for a beat, then another. Neither of you spoke, but remarkably it felt like the words were there, waiting to be said. Winter’s fingers continued nervously with her sleeve, brushing the fabric in small, rhythmic strokes, while you found yourself looking at empty plates, the table—anything but her. Both of you seemed unsure of what to say next, letting you confidently conclude that she was indeed as nervous as you. You noticed her lips parting as if to speak, only to close again after a moment of hesitation. 
A few more seconds passed before you both spoke at once.
“So—”
“Did you—”
You stopped mid-sentence, catching her eye before you let out a quiet, awkward chuckle. “Uh, sorry. You go first.”
Winter looked down briefly, as if gathering herself. When she lifted her gaze again, there was a softness in her eyes, and a hint of vulnerability that hadn’t been there before. Her thumb brushed the edge of the table, tracing it gently as she glanced back at you. “They had to bribe you too?” She asked timidly, lightly gesturing to your friends who were engrossed with hers.
A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that. It’s a whole mess, isn’t it?”
Winter nodded, her own smile flickering into existence, delicate but brief. Her voice softened as she admitted, ”These three promised me free food for a week just to get me to show up.” Winter scrunched her face, slanting her eyebrows in an attempt to scowl at them, but failed miserably, producing an adorable pout that was more endearing than anything else.
Your heart may as well have melted right there. 
You laughed softly, buying yourself time to regain your composure. From afar, she was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, but up close? When that cold, hard exterior began to fade, she doubled as the cutest too.
Your little chuckle successfully let you continue the eerily natural flow the two of you had going. “Mine offered to chip in for a game console.”
“So that’s what got you, huh?” Her eyes brightened with amusement, and for the first time, you saw her smile linger just a little longer. It wasn’t just her smile though. A slight accent softened the edges of her naturally sweet tone. Everything she said felt so easy on the ears, so digestible, and you—despite your scepticism and bitterness towards being here—found yourself hungry for more. Your friends would have called you a hypocrite, but in your defence, they both contributed to this perfect image that sat opposite you. You couldn't help but think it was the cutest sight you’d ever seen. 
Perhaps that’s what gave you the strength to say this next part.
“Well not exactly…” You trailed off, breaking eye contact as your fingers fidgeted nervously under the table. 
Winter tilted her head slightly, raising an eyebrow in anticipation like a puppy awaiting a command. God, how was everything she did so adorable?
You leaned in, still avoiding her gaze and turned your head slightly toward the wall, hoping the others wouldn’t overhear what you were about to say.
“I was uh…” You began, almost a whisper as the words struggled to leave your suddenly dry mouth.
This time Winter leaned in, meeting you at a distance a little too close for comfort.
“I was curious about you…”
Your words were like bullets, creating an embarrassing recoil that sent you hurtling back into the headrest, your gaze pointing straight down as a crimson flush seized the skin of your cheeks. Your friends would have scoffed at how trivial that whole exchange seemed, all the while you felt like a timid middle schooler confessing to his crush. You managed to baffle yourself with your boldness, not daring to look up and see Winter’s reaction.
To your further surprise, your little self-conscious introspection was interrupted by a giggle. Not just any giggle. Winter’s giggle.
You looked up to meet her face—equally as rosy as yours. But in place of your distraught expression was Winter, giggling like a child on a sugar-high. Her laughter was light and melodic, bubbling up like it couldn’t be contained. She leant back covering her open mouth with her hand. Her whole face had lit up, it was the kind of laugh that crinkled her eyes and shook her shoulders ever so slightly. It wasn’t just the sound, though—it was the way she smiled from ear to ear, so unguarded and genuine, a welcome contrast to the shy and distant she showed otherwise.
You lied earlier. This was the cutest thing you’d ever seen.
At first, you were confused by her sudden outburst, but as the infectious warmth of her laughter sunk in, a mutual smile spread across your face. The tension you’d been holding onto for several days seemed to melt away with each lingering note of her laugh. You honestly had no idea what she found so funny, but in the moment, you were just happy to go along with it, confident that you were doing at least something right.
Your friends, noticing her giggling, shared amused glances but didn’t interrupt. From the way they were staring, they were just as surprised as you were at how well this was going. They all held an expression that confessed we didn’t know you had it in you.
Ning Ning too giggled under her breath, playfully nudging Giselle. “Look at that—actual progress,” she muttered teasingly, her tone dripping with mock disbelief.
Karina though, was different. She subtly monitored the interaction, her sharp gaze softened now, intrigued by how Winter was opening up. It felt like she approved though, commending you in getting Winter out of her shell. She stayed silent though, still content to just observe.
Winter’s adorable outburst slowly ebbed, her shoulders still shaking slightly as she tried to catch her breath. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, an adorable mix of bashfulness and amusement colouring her features.
“So…” she began meekly, eyes flickering down before meeting yours again. “Do I live up to your expectations?” Her tone was soft, tentative, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to hear the answer.
You were caught off guard by Winter’s own intrepid addition to your conversation, feeling your face heat up as you struggled to find the right words. 
I—well…” You exhaled, trying to pull together the honesty that was suddenly a challenge to articulate in her presence. “You’re not what I expected,” you admitted, a gentle smile finding its way onto your face. “I don’t think I could’ve pictured someone quite like you, even if I’d tried.” 
The sudden spark of vulnerability in Winter’s expression tugged at something in you. You realised your answer might’ve sounded too cryptic, maybe even evasive. The faint quiver of her brow and roll of her Adam's apple told you she wasn’t sure how to take that.
You cleared your throat, glancing up at her cautiously as you explained, “I mean that in a good way!” Winter had a beauty that seemed too obvious, too stunning to need validation, yet you couldn’t help but want to say it aloud. “I thought you’d be stunning and well…you are.” Winter turned away sharply, hiding her flushing face with a hand. “I just thought that you’d be a lot more.. distant. But meeting you here, seeing you laugh and smile…” you were thinking of an eloquent way to put this, but you found yourself beholden to the truth right now. 
Winter was having this… effect on you. You weren’t one to ‘open up’ or ‘talk about their feelings’ and yet you felt compelled to here. “Seeing you laugh and smile… I can’t help but think it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” You had no idea where this newfound confidence was coming from, but you had a sneaking suspicion it was spurred on from what you’d just described.
Winter’s cheeks deepened from a soft pink to a vibrant flush, and she let out a shaky breath. Her fingers lingered over her features, like she was trying to shield herself from the intensity of the moment. Her eyes darted back to you and the delicate gleam in her gaze made your heart skip. 
“Really?” she murmured, her voice barely audible, as though she feared saying anything louder might shatter the fragile honesty between you. She dropped her hand from her coloured cheeks, her eyes tracing your face for confirmation. “You really think that?”
You nodded, the sincerity in your gaze unwavering. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” You chuckled softly, hoping to lighten the air. 
Winter’s shoulders began to relax, she herself not realising that they were glued to her neck. Her face remained flushed, but the tightness in her posture had vanished, leaving her more relaxed and open in how she sat.
“Thank you…” she let out. Her voice remained soft, but they certainly carried more weight.
“I’ll admit I’m surprised too…” She hesitated, glancing away, lips curving into a soft smile. “I thought you’d be just like everyone else…” You listened attentively, holding her gaze while she spoke tenderly, honestly.
“So I didn’t expect you to be…well, this easy to talk to,” she admitted, rubbing up her arm. “You don’t feel like everyone else, all practised lines and smooth talking,” she let out a faint chuckle. “ You make mistakes, you slip up. You’re like me. And um… cute too.” It was your turn to look away, your own cheeks starting to heat up. “So there’s something really nice about that...”
 You pinched yourself under the table. This was going too well for you. This had to be a dream.
“I’m glad you think that,” you told her with a smile. Your voice was lower and steadier than you’d expected, though a trace of disbelief lingered beneath your words. Because, truthfully, you could never have imagined this going so well—not in a million lifetimes. 
To your absolute delight, Winter sent you another wide smile. You didn’t think it could get much wider, but somehow she pulled it off.
You hadn’t realised it till she brought it up, but with Winter, you didn’t need to use those memorised openers or routes. She enticed you in such a way that just encouraged you to just… be you. Everywhere else you went you always felt an expectation to act like everyone else, to sound like them. But in the short time you’ve been around Winter, you hadn’t felt that at all. Was it because you two were similar? 
“So,” You began, searching for your answer. “I take it you’re not a big fan of all this?” You gestured to the six other residents of the table, and by extension the rest of the restaurant.
Winter raised an eyebrow, leaning back into her chair.  She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs under the table, almost like she was trying to ground herself. “More or less. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate people... I just like my space, y’know? Too much noise, too many people... it feels like I’m in the wrong place.” She paused, glancing briefly at the rest of the table. “But you get it, right?”
“More than I care to admit,” you replied with a sigh, feeling some strange sense of relief wash over you. “It’s exhausting. I never know what to say, or how to keep up.”
Winter’s lips curved upward again, knowingly. She seemed to relax even more, sinking into the conversation as much as she did her seat. "Exactly. It always feels like everyone has these… scripts. Like they know exactly what to say and when to say it." She gestured lightly toward your friends, still engrossed in their own lively conversations. "But it’s… difficult. It’s all tiring,” She confessed with a little pout. “It doesn't feel natural or genuine to me, it feels like I'm… like I'm…”
“Like you’re playing a character,” you finished, taking the words right out of her mouth.
Her eyes widened a fraction, a glimmer of recognition passing through them. “Exactly!” she rejoiced. A quiet laugh escaped her, one that sounded relieved. “All our friends can happily be themselves, but we’re stuck acting like someone else.”
As Winter continued, you noticed a subtle shift in the way she spoke. It wasn’t just about her anymore—she was talking about the both of you. There was something comforting about the fact that she felt like you were in this together, like she saw a bit of herself in you. You weren’t just sharing a conversation anymore—it was an understanding. 
You nodded, staring into her opulent orbs as if she were a reflection of yourself.
But before either of you could say more, Karina’s voice cut through the air, pulling you both back into reality.
“Hey, are you two lovebirds ready to order?” she teased.
You blinked and glanced around, realising that everyone else had been staring at you—impatient, but knowing smiles all around. Even the waiter at the head of your table, pen poised and all, gave you a subtle, approving nod. 
“Oh, uh…” You stammered, feeling a rush of heat crawl up your neck. You turned to glance at Winter, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you. Her eyes, wide and glimmering, were so close that you could see the subtle flecks of silver and blue swirling within them. The space between you was almost nonexistent; you were close enough that you could feel the warmth of her breath, your noses almost grazing. Wait, what? The realisation hit you both at once, and in an instant, you jolted back into your seat, wide-eyed and startled, your heart pounding from the unexpected proximity.
Winter did the same, recoiling sharply and causing a small tremble in the table. Her face flushed a deep, rosy pink, the sudden burst of colour creeping from her cheeks down to her neck. 
“I’ll have the—”
“Could I have—”
 You both started at once, then stopped, exchanging an awkward, embarrassed laugh. You gave a little nod, gesturing for her to go first. 
“ I’ll have the…” 
Winter’s voice trailed off as she scanned the menu in a hurry, cheeks still rosy. She managed to mumble her order, then you fumbled your way through yours right after, both of you clearly rattled but trying to play it cool.
As the waiter left the table, a heavy silence settled over you and Winter. The energy from before—where genuine laughter and soft words had filled the space between you two—seemed to have dissipated. Now, you found yourself unable to speak, the memory of that fleeting, close encounter hanging thickly in the air, making it difficult to breathe. It rendered thinking of something to say practically impossible.
You glanced at Winter, only to find her just as quiet. She was staring at the menu again, though you knew she wasn’t really reading it. Her fingers brushed along the page absentmindedly, putting in no effort whatsoever to make her rapid flicking believable. Every so often, her eyes would dart toward you, only to quickly return to the menu the second she thought you might notice.
Despite the tension, a sense of relief came over you. The silence gave you an opportunity to collect yourself, to push back the storm of emotions swirling around inside you. You sank a little further into your chair, quietly thankful for the momentary ceasefire. 
Your mind wandered to all those couples who roamed the city streets—it was the bitter truth that you wouldn’t fit in as one of them. The way you’d always seen yourself didn’t align with how those people acted: smiling and talking for what felt like forever. For years on end you considered yourself emotionally unavailable, selfish with any time you had.  Yet, here you were, sitting across from Winter, someone who was...different. Someone who made you feel like, maybe—just maybe—you were capable of being one of those couples.
You shook your head slightly, dismissing the thought as quickly as it came. No, that kind of thing didn’t happen to people like you. You were reading too much into it, weren’t you? It had to be just the heat of the moment, the proximity playing tricks on your mind. The sincerity in her gaze, the warmth of her breath—it was just...well, it was nothing, really.
But then why was your heart still racing?
Winter shifted slightly in her seat, her eyes still trained on the menu. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but stopped herself, the words catching before they had a chance to escape. You could almost feel her nerves mirrored in your own chest.
You too thought about saying something—anything—to break the silence, but every possible word felt clumsy in your mind. You were far too embarrassed to speak up, but at the same time, you wanted to recover the soft energy that radiated between the two of you—the thrill of a conversation where you felt at ease, where you could be you. 
"Sorry, about… uh, that," you forced out, sending her a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean to make things weird.” There was no reason for you to take responsibility, but you assumed it would ease her if she was absolved of fault. After all, it would have eased you.
Winter shook her head quickly, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “Trust me, if anyone made things weird, it was me.” You couldn't help but laugh—she was trying to do the exact same thing.
“Don’t worry about it, Winter,” you assured, her name slipping out instinctively.
There was a shift in her posture as her name escaped your lips, subtle but noticeable. She uncrossed her legs under the table and leaned forward ever so slightly, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her sleeve again. She seemed on the verge of saying something important. You could sense it in the way she glanced at you—anxious eyes, cheeks flushing scarlet. Her lips pressed together for a moment, then softened as if she’d finally made up her mind. Her eyes met yours, letting you peer into that reflective lake once again. But this time, you could almost make out what was below— she was letting down a wall, one you’d wager few have ever seen behind.
 She took a breath, her chest rising and falling with a quiet resolve, and then, in almost a whisper she spoke.
 “Please. Call me Minjeong.” 
The simplicity of the words didn’t match the weight they carried. There was something so incredibly personal in her request, something that felt like a secret being shared between just the two of you. Her gaze stayed locked on yours, as if waiting to see how you’d react, her vulnerability laid bare.
“M-Minjeong,” you stuttered delicately, the name feeling both foreign and intimate on your tongue, like you were stepping into a space no one else had been invited to. 
Minjeong’s expression softened even more, a glimmer of relief flashing across her eyes. She let out a breath, one she seemed to have been holding in anticipation of your response. A curve played across her lips. It was pure, unguarded. You almost could see the warmth radiating off of her, like this simple act of you saying her name had drawn you two closer.
“I— I like the way you say it,” she confessed quietly.  Her voice was shy, as if she wasn’t used to hearing her own name spoken aloud.
You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, unsure of how to respond but feeling the gravity of the moment pull you deeper into her orbit. The vulnerability in her tone, the way her eyes softened when she looked at you, made everything feel so surreal. You had no idea what to say next, your mind scrambling for the right words, but none seemed enough.
Multiple pairs of eyes fell on you from around the table, but neither you nor Minjeong were in the right state to acknowledge it. As far as you were both concerned, you two were the only people on Earth right now.
Before you could manage a reply, Minjeong spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Most people just call me Winter. It’s easier for me… less personal.” She glanced down at the table, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of her sleeve. “But I dunno…” She trailed off. “Minjeong feels right with you.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy and meaningful, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were seeing something fragile. It was like she was giving you a piece of herself, trusting you to hold it gently.
“Minjeong,” you repeated, this time more certain. “It’s a beautiful name.”
She met your gaze again, her eyes shining with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “Thanks,” she murmured, a shy smile tugging at her lips, but this time, there was no hesitation in the way she looked at you. No walls, no pretence. Just Minjeong, in all her quiet, ethereal beauty.
You felt a warmth bloom in your chest, the kind you hadn’t experienced in years. It was like being a teen again, that rush of excitement and nervous energy coursing through you—the way it used to when you’d catch your crush’s eye across the room and feel your heart race. But this was different—it was deeper. As you sat there, looking at Minjeong, you realised it wasn’t just her beauty or the way she had let you in. It was the feeling she stirred in you, something you thought you’d long forgotten. She wasn’t just someone who caught your eye—she made you feel alive again. Like you were rediscovering that fluttery, intoxicating rush from your youth, but unlike then it wasn’t fleeting. There was a quality to it that you just couldn’t articulate—your years of social isolation, your unending cynicism towards basic human emotion left you that way. 
But you tried, tried to put a label on this unfamiliar feeling. You searched your mind for a word, a description, anything that could encompass what was building in your chest, but nothing came close. It was a bewildering sensation that refused to fit into the neat definitions you knew.
The tension in your mind dissipated the moment the waiter brought the food, and you watched as everyone’s attention turned to their meals. The table filled with idle chatter and silverware scraping against plates, grounding you back to the present. You took a steadying breath, grateful for the pause and the warmth of the meal as it cut through the delicate web that had woven itself between you and Minjeong.
Still, you couldn’t help but notice her in the little pauses and movements—the way her eyes sparkled with each glance around the table, her small, quiet smile at each bite. Even now, Minjeong’s presence felt magnetic, she occupied her space without demanding it, a rare grace that felt refreshing. Each time she looked up, she met your eyes with a soft, almost bashful smile that sent an echo of warmth through you. It made you want to reach out, to learn more, to let her know how much she’d already begun to matter to you.
The conversation around the table grew louder, but your own exchange with Minjeong stayed quiet and gentle. You spoke in low tones, sharing snippets about each other’s lives. Every glance, every subtle word between you seemed to deepen the quiet understanding you shared. Gone was your lacking composure, the insatiable need to assess and please. Your exchange with Minjeong felt like a safe space, a judgement-free zone to be yourself in public. You’d explain to her all your nerdy hobbies, and she would listen with genuine attentiveness, her eyes adorably lighting up when you’d find something else in common. In return, you found yourself hanging onto every word she offered back, falling deeper and deeper into the conversation as she opened herself up to you
And when there were lulls—as there inevitably were between introverts such as the two of you—you both found comfort even in the silence. It was strange, feeling so drawn to someone you had known for only a few hours. The part of you that usually resisted connections seemed to fall silent in her presence. And as she leaned in closer to share an amused thought, her fingers playing absently at the edge of her napkin, you felt something within you shift.
What was this feeling, exactly? You had tried to put it into words, only to come up empty. You were someone who could gauge how a person was feeling from body language alone, like you could measure and judge everything they felt. But when it came to yourself—your feelings, your emotions— you came up short. 
But as the evening wore on and the rest of the table grew quieter, you found yourself looking at Minjeong with a soft certainty. From the way Minjeong looked at you, you got the impression she was struggling with the same dilemma. But you didn’t need to name this undefined feeling that stirred in you. Every shared glance, every smile that lingered a beat too long—these were all the words you needed. There was an understanding—unspoken yet undeniable—that whatever this was, it was real. And in that moment, with the quiet warmth shared between you two, it was enough.
---
You emerged from the restaurant, taking in the brisk air of the Christmas evening. Typically, retreating back into the bustling street was your first step in your retreat to the solitary comfort of your dorm room. It let you breathe a sigh of relief for escaping whatever social event you had been forced into. 
But tonight? Tonight your steps were unhurried, in fact you felt the urge to linger. Tonight, Minjeong was by your side, her soft smile mirroring your own. The breath you let go this time was instead a remorseful one, a signal that your time together was almost over. Of course as much as she looked the part, the girl before you wasn’t some unreachable, otherworldly angel—she was real, and very much contactable. 
You both watched from afar as your friends exchanged phone numbers with Karina, Giselle and Ning Ning. On any other day, you would have looked on in unspoken envy,but alas, tonight was different. You stared at the new contact sitting in your phone—a beautiful name befitting of an equally beautiful woman, punctuated by two snowflakes either side of it. 
“Minjeong,” it read. Simple, familiar now, but it held a weight you’d never thought a name could carry.
You grinned, feeling a warmth unlike any the night’s chill could steal away. The white-haired girl handed your phone back to you, sending a sincere smirk your way. 
“Make sure to call me, okay?” 
Her tone was light and gentle, but her eyes were serious, like this meant more to her than anything else.
“Of course,” you assured. There was nothing in this world that could make you shatter the joy reflected in that smile.
Without warning, she stepped forward, instantly closing the distance between you.  Her arms wrapped around you—warm, gentle and tentative. For a moment, you were too stunned to react, but the heat of her body—which was now flush to yours—quelled any concern.  Instinctively, your arms folded around her, drawing her closer, absorbing her presence. The soft scent of her hair drifted up to you, and you felt her heartbeat against your own.
“Thank you for tonight.” She whispered, her soft voice muffled by your chest.
You didn’t know how long you two were standing there, pressed together as one, but in the moment it didn’t matter. When she finally pulled away, you saw her face, beaming like the sun shines.
“Have a wonderful night,” she said, her cheeks flushed, mirroring the festive glow of the streets around you.
“It already has been,” you replied, your heart full as you returned a gentle, loving smile.
Love. You chuckled. 
Maybe that’s what this was.
---
If you got here thank you much for reading my first ever fic! I know there's a lot of filler here which could very easily be removed, but I really just wanted to keep everything I'd written. In the future, I'll make sure everything's more streamlined.
But apart from that I'd love for some constructive criticism. Thanks again!
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