#you know what word should be there instead of explode right

[tarnussy]

i think if godrick casually rubbed my back or feet, i'd explode

[slttygeto]

HUSBAND SUGURU! + PREGNANCY ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tags: fem! reader, husband suguru!, nsfw, suguru is very hesitant about being a dad, but isnt forced into this :), reader is very motherly, dirty talk and talk about getting off the pill and being bred.

word count: 2,1k

Husband Suguru! whom before you even got married, sat you down and mentioned to you how starting a family wasn’t something he was looking forward to. you know of his past, of the trauma he’s been through. he fully expects you to break up with him when he tells you that, knows how much you want to have a baby of your own, but you don’t. instead, you cradle him in your arms and tell him that you love him and appreciate what you have right now, not what you don’t even see in the picture.

Husband Suguru! who swears he hasn’t changed his mind about babies, about starting a family in general even three years into the marriage. but when he sees you with your friend’s baby, the glow on your face, the motherly instinct—how you gently place your hand on the baby’s head, rock her back and forth and coo at her softly while her mother gets her food ready, his heart feels as though it is about to explode.

“There there baby girl,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and when the baby cries, your lip juts out and you pull the infant towards your chest in an attempt at soothing her. your eyes find his where he is sitting on the couch, and the lighthearted chuckle you give him pulls a nervous one out of his body. you are now convinced that your husband would never ever change his mind based on the horror painting his features as he turns to your friend’s husband to strike a conversation. but in reality, the topic of their conversation is all too surprising.

“Has it been difficult? You know, managing a career and taking care of the baby,”

“Oh yeah very,” the other man admits but Suguru doesn’t detect a single hint of regret in his voice. “but yknow, look at that,” he point his glass of water in the direction of his wife and you holding the baby. “seeing my wife with our baby, our creation—seeing her act all motherly like that? Totally worth it.”

Husband Suguru! who starts to consider the idea of getting you pregnant. he hopes for the rational part of his brain to win over, rather than the horny, disgustingly perverted one. but when you walk out of the shower in a crop top, his mind drifts elsewhere—and suddenly, the image of your belly swollen with his kids floods his mind and he has to put a pillow on his crotch to hide the very evident bulge in his pants.

Husband Suguru! who once he calms down and takes care of his raging boner, texts Satoru in a hurry, asking if they could meet up tomorrow morning. your husband tells you of his plans and you hum sleepily, telling him how catching up with his best friend seems like a good idea. Suguru drops the bomb on his best friend the moment they sit down and the ivory haired’s jaw almost meets the floor.

“You mean you wanna be a dad?”

“I’m not…too sure,” Suguru looks conflicted, he is holding his head in his hands. he knows very well that this is a topic that should be discussed with you, since you were the other person of interest in the situation. but he would hate to give you false hope, he’s seen the way your eyes light up at the mention of a baby, at one of your friends or colleagues being pregnant, how there’s a disappointed look on your face that you try so hard to conceal when Suguru gives you a face in response of a pregnancy announcement. but you are so patient, so accepting, you’ve never once forced him into anything. and truth be told, he wanted to see what kind of mother you would be to your baby—and then toddler, and then teenager and adult—you’d have a life together with a new person who would adapt either your personality or his, with a face of the love of his life. your baby could have your eyes and nose, he’s always pointed them out—even before you started dating.

“Dude, do you or do you not want to have a baby?”

“I don’t know man, it’s hard to think of.”

“Because you are thinking too hard about it,” Satoru says nonchalantly and it irks Suguru a little.

“I am not thinking too hard about it—this is a new responsibility, what if I am not fit to be a dad? I could be a failure for all we know—what if I pussy out of it and—“

“I would kill you.” Satoru warns the man and Suguru doesn’t try to hide how he stiffens up. “I am not joking, I would find you and bring you back to her as a sack of bones,”

“I wouldn’t betray her like that…”

“You’re too focused on the aspect of being a bad dad rather than a good one—yknow, you really think that she’d marry someone she doesn’t see fit as the future father of her children?” Satoru has a point. you did mention to him once (when Suguru was nowhere to be seen at a party you all attended) how falling in love with him was the best thing that’s ever happened to you, but the one thing that would top it is if he became a father to your children. Satoru, knowing his best friend’s stance on the topic, reminded you of how terrified the man was of the idea and all you did was give him a reassuring, understanding wave of your hands.

“I know, but I just know he’d love them hard and make them feel as safe as he makes me feel.”

Husband Suguru! who doesn’t really try to bring up the topic of ‘trying for a baby’. he cringes at the thought, feels as though it makes the process less romantic and intimate and more of a robotic task. as he is stripping you of your clothes, he is silent and lets his eyes wander over your figure. you are extremely shy tonight, unable to meet his eyes as his rough, calloused hands brush over the skin of your boobs before bending down to be at eye level with them. he brings the flesh inside his mouth and sucks—and blood rushes down to his groin at the thought of them being filled with milk, heavy and swollen, more sensitive than usual. his teeth graze the skin at an attempt to catch your attention and your thighs squeeze as you meet his eyes.

“Sugu…” your smaller hands rest on his face as he pulls away from your boobs to plant a heated kiss to your lips, effectively pushing you back on the bed. your back gently hits the mattress, and your chest is heaving in anticipation, unsure of what his next move would be.

“Baby,” he finally speaks up, nose brushing against your stomach as he brings his lips to the skin. “how about you drop the pill tomorrow?” he knows how much of a horrible job he is doing at this, but he feels you move, supporting yourself on your elbows.

“w-why would I do that?” your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and Suguru wishes to brush his thumb over the tense skin of your forehead.

Suguru is shameless as he kisses further south, planting his kiss above the tuft of your pubic hair before pushing your panties to the side. He parts the lips and gives your clit a kiss before moving to your inner thighs.

“why not? It’s doing horrible things to your body—“ he brushes his nose over your clit as he speaks. “beside, we need you off the pill if we want a baby, don’t you think?” when you don’t react to his words, Suguru looks up only to find you staring down at him with parted lips and eyes glossed over with tears.

“…are you sure?” you ask softly, and your husband swears he could never say no to you if you asked like that all the time.

“very,”

Husband Suguru! who fucks you with a new purpose. each drive of his hips fueling the other to go harder, deeper, to keep pushing his cum inside you and plant his seed deep within. your cunt does a great job at showing Suguru how ecstatic and excited you are with his sudden change of heart. you keep squeezing around him, barely able to keep your sounds in—he fucks you so deeply that the sound of skin to skin is louder than your moans and his groans. when he puts you on all fours, the cum starts to drip out of you but he pushes it back in with two thick fingers, lips pressed to your ass cheek.

“want more?”

“mmm! please,” you whine when he aligns his tips with your folds and fixes your arch with a hand on the small of your back. the gasp that escapes your lips when he fucks into you hard makes Suguru chuckle and he rubs your sides, soothing you.

“no need to beg for it,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your nape. “I’d gladly fill you up.”

Husband Suguru! who stiffens up when you show him the positive pregnancy test. up until this point, he is in control of his emotions—he lets you cry in his arms about how scary all of this was, despite you saying you’ve always wanted a baby. he is supportive, understanding of the heightened emotions that you are experiencing—when he sees your tears turn into happy ones, only half of him is able to relax. clearly, he is nervous but he doesn’t wanna show it. not right now.

The first ultrasound during your pregnancy was nerve racking—your hand squeezed your husband’s as you stared at the screen showing what appeared to be your unborn baby. Very tiny, but still there.

“Okay mom and dad,” the doctor presses the ultrasound transducer a bit lower on your stomach, a small smile on his face. “I got some news for you.”

“Good?” your anxious voice has Suguru rubbing his thumb on the back on your hand.

“It depends, how long have you been trying for this baby?” You couldn’t exactly disclose of your very active sex life, but you do give the doctor hints that it was definitely wanted.

“Well, look over here—“ he points to the screen with his gloved finger, ushering Suguru to come closer. “Look over here dad, what do you see?”

Suguru swallows hard as he stares at the screen in confusion, unsure of what to say. “..a baby?”

“Babies. Congratulations, you’re pregnant with twins.”

Your husband whips his head towards you fast, and you cover your mouth in shock. This wasn’t planned—twins? And for a first time? You didn’t know if the tears streaming down your face were of excitement or fear that maybe you weren’t ready for this.

But Suguru still comforts you, holds you in his arms—tells you that maybe finding out the gender won’t make all of this sound scary anymore. He knew you never really had a preference for gender—you were a natural mom.

However, finding out the gender was an emotional experience for the same man who never thought he would become a father.

Husband Suguru! who tells Satoru to buy the gender reveal cake for you two. he doesn’t want to throw a party, and neither do you. finding out within the privacy of your own home seemed like the best option—you didn’t want to reveal that you were pregnant to any family members—at least not yet.

“Are you ready?” You hold your own glass as you wait for your husband to stand next to you. Your bump wasn’t that evident yet, but signs of pregnancy were starting to show on your body and it brought this warm feeling to Suguru’s body.

“Yeah, hold my hand.” You chuckle slightly at his request but comply either way. Each of you holds their own glass above the cake before looking away as you push it down—you hold your breath, Suguru rests his forehead on your shoulder as he mumbles something about not being able to look at the cake. But you muster up the courage and lift your glass, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

“Sugu—“ you don’t need to tell him to look, he was already staring at the glass with teary eyes. The pink frosting wasn’t something he was expecting to see—he knew he was going to be happy with either but two little girls? His own baby girls—the thought of being a girl dad brings tears to his eyes and you’re quickly pulling him towards you.

“Oh baby,” you hold back your own tears as you comfort your emotional husband, his arms wrapped around your middle. You hear little sniffles and a hand rubs your back before feeling a pair of lips pressed to your forehead.

“Gonna be the prettiest mom to the prettiest girls. Ever.”   

note: my posts are all self indulgent at this point… enjoy :D

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[kiiozawa]

"You can't keep doing this." You hiss as the tequila hits the back of your throat.

"I can and I will, princess."

You have to crane your head up just to glare at your ex-boyfriend and his stupid maroon colored eyes. Sukuna has a shit-eating grin on his face as he is eyeing you up and down. The baby blue dress that you're wearing that didn't leave anything to the imagination made his grin widen as he saw how flushed your cheeks were.

The scent of cheap liquor and the sweat of dancing bodies lingers in the air of the club. The club where you were supposed to be on a date. Until, Sukuna crashed it. Again.

"You can't be serious." You roll your eyes, arms crossing over your chest.

"As if you're serious about some guy with greasy hair and looks like he stays up arguing on Reddit until 3 in the morning." Sukuna quips back as he leans dangerously close to your face. "I can take you home right now, princess. Just say the word."

What's annoying is that you were already planning on telling your date that this isn't working out. Your date kept saying that they should play some 'real' music and had the audacity to tell you that your outfit may be a 'little too much'. He tried to offer you his jacket to cover up, which you shot down.

That is something that you weren't keen on letting Sukuna know. Sukuna's inflated ego may explode if you willingly offer that information. Instead, you hold out your hand to Sukuna, your eyes never breaking contact with his.

"Fine. But I want to get some McDonald's on the way." You relent as Sukuna's muscular hand engulfs yours as he pulls out through the sea of people.

"Anything for you, sweetheart."

[creative-crybaby]

Trifle

PAIRING: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

GENRE: crack? crack. | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: fingering, oral (m receiving), praise kink, dacryphilia (?), cum eating, squirting

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

SUMMARY: Two things can be true at the same time. Does Gojo make you want to hit him upside the head with a frying pan, should his Infinity allow it? Yes. Does he also know how to make your ovaries explode with his fingers alone? Also yes.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Heeeeyyyy~ yes it's been several months without a fic and this comes out under 2k words buuuuuutttt~ u get bitchass!Gojo (we love him)

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

You’re going to kill him. 

He’s a walking, talking headache. Questioning your teaching methods for your students, eating your sweets even though you’ve labelled them (it’s right there!), swooping into your missions like he’s saving the day. Those are just a few of the many examples, but he does it all on purpose, you’re sure of it. 

So to be sitting between his long legs with his slender fingers knuckle-deep into your sopping cunt feels like a blow to your integrity and pride. 

Especially since he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“So,” Gojo drawls, pausing his ministrations between your trembling thighs, “how many orgasms was that?”

Your face is boiling. From rage or embarrassment, you can’t decide. “Fuck you.”

The sorcerer hums at your crude remark before slipping his digits out of your pussy, holding his hand a foot away from your face to catch your essence blanketing his skin. 

“Patience, patience.” His easy-going tone makes you want to jab your elbow into his stomach. “Jeez, someone’s eager. You finally warming up to me, Princess?”

And that damn nickname. Either Gojo genuinely doesn’t know how much you hate it, or he’s just trying to push your buttons some more. With the clueless grins he’d offer as he’d call you that, you’d assume the former. But with his explanation for calling you that being that you always stick your nose up at him, you don’t think he deserves any benefit of the doubt. 

You hate that nickname, yet you find yourself clenching around nothing just from hearing those familiar syllables. 

His first question came out like he was asking for the time, yet with the number of times he’s made you see galaxies, you ought to be grateful that his tone holds no cockiness. No, actually, you might prefer that instead—how dare he handle this victory with grace and nonchalance?

“This doesn’t even make us friends,” you manage to stammer through gritted teeth. Your glare remains on his hand, still drenched before you, though your frustration lies more down south than anywhere else. 

You can hear the taunting frown in the sorcerer’s voice. “Guess you won’t care for this anymore, then.”

His arm, responsible for putting you in your puddle-like state, slowly retracts, and you can feel the sorcerer take his time raising from his seated position. 

Now he’s finally giving you the space you always wanted from him, yet you surprise yourself by grabbing him by the wrist. You let go as soon as you recognize your action, but the deed has already been done. 

An overly enthusiastic gasp. “You do like me!”

“Oh, my God—If I say yes, will you just finish the job already?” you groan. 

Gojo plops back to his seating position behind you, nestling his chin onto your shoulder as he teases his hand to return between your thighs. His warm breath fans your cheek while his lips graze your earlobe. Miniscule actions that have your body heating up. Intentional on his part, most likely, though you refuse to give him any more ammo against you. 

A heavy sigh. The feigned disappointment in his tone has your brows furrowing so intensely that you worry you might pop a vein. 

“No gratitude for the hand that feeds you, huh?” The special-grade sorcerer nuzzles into your neck, his woe-is-me attitude soon replaced with a blinding grin and boyish giggle. “Oh, but you know I can’t be mad at you for long!”

Long and slender fingers bury themselves in your weeping cunt before you process his mood swings. A trembling moan slips from your mouth as his skilled ministrations resume, your sweet spot welcoming the familiar touch. His speed and rhythm return as if he never paused, further turning your brain to mush as your thighs tremble. Gojo chuckles childishly once more, the charming melody syncing with the embarrassingly loud squelching of your soaking pussy. 

Multiple orgasms later, and you ask for more. The heat from the situation must be melting your sense of reason because you can’t tell if you’re greedy or just plain stupid. 

“You crying?” Gojo’s voice carries its usual teasing lilt, the one he has specifically for you. You don’t even realize how the fresh tears glaze your vision—as if he didn’t already have enough fuel for the fire.

But you bite your tongue. You bite your tongue because there’s no convincing anyone that he’s crazy and seeing things and the last thing you need is for him to stall some more when you’re already sososo close to the edge.

A slight change in angle. It does the trick, his fingers still bullying that one spot while his palm brushes against your throbbing clit with just as much vigour. Your body tenses, a choked sob escaping your glossy lips as your orgasm hits you like a tsunami. Warm liquid follows soon after, the blue-eyed sorcerer’s movements refusing to halt and making lewd splashing sounds in the process. 

Even once everything simmers down, the impact decides to remain a bit longer. With a heaving chest and stuttering hips, the room stops spinning, slowly but surely.

A low whistle. “If you had to pee, you could have just said so.”

“Why are you like this?”

Gojo hums before slipping his fingers out of your pussy, earning him a slightly pained whimper from you. He stands back up as you wipe away the evidence of your crying, peering up at him when his shadow blankets you. His towering frame never fails to catch you off-guard, but what currently has your attention is the Special Grade sorcerer sucking his digits clean of your juices, a satisfied mewl coming straight from his throat.

“Welp,” he stretches his arms above his head, “we still have a bit of time left before we have that meeting with good ol’ Principal Yaga, so,” the sound of a zipper reaches your ears, and it's only a few seconds later that he pulls out his cock—long, stiff and painfully ready, “why not return the favour?” 

You’re too fucked out to argue against him. That’s the reasoning you’d think of using should he confront you about your willingness to comply. You can’t help it if you’re losing the staring contest against his cock, saliva pooling on your tongue as he taps his vermillion tip against your cheek.

Your lips part as your eyes flutter closed, unable to bear to look at the Special Grade sorcerer as you take him down your throat, inch by inch. The gagging sound that erupts from your throat halfway through makes your brows furrow, and you can only hope the man above you doesn’t comment. With clenched fists sitting on your lap, you further shield your sight with screwed-shut lids as you push yourself to take more, using your tongue for good measure.

A shuddered sigh leaves Gojo’s soft lips when you tease one of his veins. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

You moan in response, feeling bold enough to create a steady pace to bob your head. Whatever you couldn’t reach, your hand took care of, a part of your brain urging you to squeeze him just a bit harder. His responses only grow louder, his groaning and panting setting your face on fire.

“You’re so good at this,” he rasps, his large hand finding the top of your head. Despite his gentle touch, you furrow your brows at the contact. “Too good…” You don’t expect him to slip himself out of your mouth, holding his base away from your mouth and making you finally look up at him. Gojo tilts his head to the side. “You’ve done this before?”

You'd have thought he was teasing if it weren’t for the pout on his lips. You look at him for a moment with an incredulous expression.

“What are you talking about?” You swat his hand out of your hair. “You seriously think being with anyone outside our line of work would be easy?” The male sorcerer’s gaze carries hope at your words, a noticeable shine in those cerulean blues that make your heart stutter. Unsure of what to do next, you continue the lost momentum by pumping his pulsing cock in your hand. “I’m stuck with you, Gojo.”

You figure his shuddered gasp is from your returning touch, especially with the combination of pinched brows, quivering lips and heavy blush on his cheeks and ears. But his large hand on top of yours–the one doing all the work–tells another story.

“You really do like me, Princess!” The sorcerer exclaims, his voice wavering halfway. 

At this point, you don’t care to dissect whether or not he’s pushing your buttons. Even at a time like this….

“I meant I’m settling for you,” you grumble, ignoring how his hand practically devours yours. You manage to retract your hold from his. “Don’t make me bite you.”

Gojo giggles at your threat, his bottom lip slipping between his teeth when you plop his dick back in your mouth. “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Without warning, you graze his shaft with your teeth the more you take him in your mouth. Not enough to hurt, but enough to send a message, if your irritated expression wasn’t already doing the job. 

Although, you suppose it is your fault for not taking him seriously either. Your actions earn you a whimper from the Special Grade sorcerer. Not a second later, he has his head thrown back as he pours his load down your throat. Your eyes widen at the overpowering taste, doing what you can to swallow every drop without choking. Even through his orgasm, you find yourself thinking about how he ought to cut down on the sweets. 

You’re quick to pull back for air once Gojo comes down from his high, sputtering in your hand as he sighs happily. 

“Told ya,” he muses, tucking himself back in. You wipe your mouth, glaring at him from your spot on the floor. 

“Whatever,” you grunt, putting your clothes back on before attempting to stand. If he notices your legs still wobbling, he thankfully doesn’t comment. “Let’s just hurry and get to that meeting before Yaga gets mad.”

Gojo hums with a tilt of his head as he watches you dusting off your pants.

“Oh, yeah!” He drops his fist into his palm. You throw a wary look his way when he grins. “We’ve been late this whole time, actually.”

© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify

[theemporium]

Hii!! May I request 💜 violet fluff number 37 for Luke hughes? Maybe he gets injured in a game and the pain meds he’s put on have him begging for reader to continue playing with his hair as it brings him a comfort?

(btw I love your writing it’s always so so good and when I see your page it always brings a smile to my face <3)

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

37. “You should play with my hair some more."

.

All things considered, the hit could have caused a lot more damage. 

It was a dirty hit, a nasty one that had the whole Devils bench exploding with complaints when the referees had only given the other guy a two minute minor. Luke hadn’t even been allowed to play the rest of the period or the rest of the game for precautionary reasons, instead taken straight to medical to do a full evaluation. 

Nothing was broken but his shoulder was a little roughed up and it hurt like a bitch right now—a pain the doctors assured would ease in the next few days. The doctors had prescribed some strong painkillers to help ease the pain and allow enough relief for Luke to rest tonight. 

Painkillers that seemed a lot more that strong if the boy’s current state was anything to go by. 

“You’re really pretty,” Luke sighed as he turned his head to look at you with a goofy smile. “Like, reaaaaaally pretty.” 

“I know, baby,” you grinned back at him. “You’ve only told me a hundred times in the last ten minutes.” 

He frowned. “That’s not enough. I should tell you more.” 

You snorted, shaking your head. “Those painkillers are really hitting you, aren’t they?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed, nodding his head. “Feel really good right now.” 

“Oh, I bet,” you mused as you reached towards him, pushing some of his curls out of his face and pushing them back. 

“Wanna go home,” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut as you continued to run your fingers through his hair. “Can we go home now?” 

“Five more minutes, babe,” you assured him, your nails lightly stretching along his scalp as he let out a noise of contentment. Almost like a cat. You had to bite back your laugh at the thought. “Jack is gonna bring the car around so you don’t have to walk too much.” 

“That’s nice of him,” Luke mumbled, his cheek pressed against the pillow as he gave up keeping his eyes open. 

“Gotta stay up for me,” you murmured as you pulled your hand away, lightly stroking his cheek instead but the boy just whined in response. 

“No, why did you stop?” His words were slurred together as he blinked his eyes open, frowning up at you.

“I don’t want you falling asleep right now,” you told him in a soft voice, smiling a little when he leaned his cheek into your hand. “We still need to get home and I don’t think me and Jack will be able to carry you the whole way.” 

“I’ve seen how much he can lift, he’ll be fine,” Luke huffed out in response, slowly blinking as he yawned a little. “You’re going against doctor’s orders.” 

You raised your brows in amusement. “Am I now?” 

“Mhm, the doctor told me what I needed to feel better so you should listen to me,” Luke said, his eyes hooded and tired. “You should play with my hair some more. It’s the quickest road to recovery.” 

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, if the doctor said so…” 

“S’the first thing he learnt in school,” Luke told you, only to be interrupted by a yawn.

“You’re so lucky Jack isn’t here to hear this,” you murmured as you leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead before returning your fingers to his hair. “He would never let you live any of this down.”

.

[schrijverr]

It Just Hits Different When It’s Batman

5 times a League member heard Batman use slang + 1 time they knew where the fuck he got it from.

This fic is based off this post by @wednesday-if-it-was-tuesday bc it was just too good! Hope you don't mind :D

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~~

1. Flash

Barry is pretty sure he has to get his hearing checked as he speeds through a city, trying to find a series of bombs, courtesy of a new alliance of villains. He and Batman are on bomb duty, thus sharing a private com line as to not distract the others or be distracted as they coordinate.

However, Barry is very much distracted by his own partner in this whole mess, because unless he’s gotten a few too many hits to the head in recent years, he’s pretty sure Batman just reported: “The bombs look like yassified thermos flasks.”

“What?” Barry chokes, nearly tripping over his own feet as he does.

Batman doesn’t seem to notice, instead explaining the bomb, not his wording: “The casing looks to be made from plastic, likely to escape Superman’s notice. Start checking water pipes, I found this one near a toilet. I’ll report again once I figure out how to disarm it.”

Okay, questing his sanity later, finding bombs, now.

So he zooms off again, having to agree with the fact that the bomb does look like a yassified thermos flask. He wonders if he can use that in his report or if Batman will scold him for language. He has worked with the man for long enough that he knows Batman isn’t above hypocrisy.

Then he wonders again if he even heard it right. In the heat of battle, the brain sometimes does weird things, especially when someone thinks at the speed of light. Or faster.

He’ll put it out of his mind for now, maybe tell Hal about it just so he’ll have someone to share the bizarre experience with.

Clark probably has a thesaurus, he should probably also find a synonym for yassified. Does a thesaurus have slang too?

2. Green Lantern

It’s true that Barry had told him about Spooky saying yassified in that one battle, but Hal hadn’t truly believed that Bats was capable of something like that. I mean, look at him. The guy might be a weirdo who dresses up as a Bat, but he’s not a weirdo who says shit like yassified.

However, at the moment it is starting to look more and more likely. Fuck, Barry is gonna give him so much crap for not believing him.

The moment in question is Batman working with him on the stealth mission. It’s one for the Green Lantern Corps, so Batman is doing him a favor. Though Hal is starting to wish that he hadn’t done him that favor, because Batman has just said: “It looks like Luthor is being thristy for Superman again. For someone who hates the guy, he sure wants his attention a lot. That’s Kryptonian honing device.”

Hal doesn’t react, still thinking about the fact that he’s just heard Luthor, thirsty and Superman in one sentence. In Batman’s voice no less.

“What?” he says.

“A Kryptonian honing device,” Batman repeats, sounding as if he thinks Hal is stupid, not uncommon. “So he can hone in on Superman, find him. Something we need to do something about.”

Hal decides to take the smart way out and lets the whole thing drop in favor of focusing on the mission. He’s not just telling Barry, but Ollie about this as well.

3. Cyborg

Being in the Justice League isn’t much different than being on the Teen Titans. Like right now, being in a building that could explode at any moment unless he hacks into the system and stops that from happening.

Ah, good old life-threatening pressure.

Batman is fighting some of the goons in the background. They’re on their own here, with the others fighting through an army outside to get to them. But it’s mostly up to them. Batman yells: “Cyborg, status.”

“I’m getting through, but something is bugging me about this whole thing,” Victor calls back. “I think there is someone I’m missing that will allow me to crack this.”

There are a few grunts in the background as Batman fights on, while Victor starts to scan through everyone who worked for the organization, trying to find the missing link.

He is interrupted by Batman, who says: “I took a tour here once. There was an intern, Kyle Paulson, he was kind of sus. Look him up.”

For a second, Victor is thrown by the sus in that sentence, but he quickly focuses back on what’s important. Indeed finding Kyle to be the missing link that gets him to disarm the bomb. While Batman is taking out the last of the bad guys.

In fact, the whole thing slips his mind until he’s writing his mission report, going through the footage to get accurate information in there. Then he pauses again, before dismissing it. Those who trained under Batman are always prepared, maybe it’s not slang but shorthand to be useful in the moment. Or he’s trying to include him, sweet, though unnecessary.

Victor puts it out of his mind.

4. Green Arrow

Ollie doesn’t believe Barry or Hal for a second. Like, really? Batman using slang that the sidekicks are using?

Sure, Nightwing sometimes uses some here and there, but Red Robin is always very professional and Robin is closer to a Shakespearean actor than a TikTok teen. There isn’t anyone else he could have gotten it from and it doesn’t make sense with his whole ‘I am the Night’-persona.

Victor suggested it was to make the newbies more comfortable when he overheard them talking, but that’s even more ridiculous in Ollie’s opinion.

So, he’s not at all in the slightest prepared for Batman’s reaction when he shows him the new arrows he developed. Because Batman’s reaction is: “Hm, serves cunt.”

“Excuse me, what?” Ollie says, his eyes nearly bulging out of his skull.

Batman just stares at him, then in a confused sort of voice goes: “You know, it slays? It’s, you know, good? Positive.”

“Huh, what? No, I- I know what that means. How the fuck do you know?” Ollie splutters.

“I’m Batman,” is all he says. Then he walks away and leaves Ollie to stand there, still frozen in time, because what the hell was that? Batman can’t just do that, can he? That’s illegal. How does he even know that?

What Ollie doesn’t know, is that this was a calculated move. Bruce had overheard the three talking as well and decided to have a little fun. All the times before, it just slipped out in the heat of battle, but this one was purposeful.

Bruce knows Ollie would know what it meant, because billionaires Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen have done TikTok trends in the past and try to keep up to date, despite their age. Not that Ollie knows it’s him under there.

And last gala, he left Bruce for the wolves – Vicky Vale – so now Bruce is dealing psychological damage to him as petty revenge.

5. Superman (and Practically the Entire League)

They’re in a meeting with most of the Justice League members that are present on earth at the moment. It’s not often they hold such meetings, since they are a little overwhelming and tend to drag on more than be productive.

However, Clark thinks it’s important to ensure there are avenues through which ever member can state their piece and be heard. So, here they are again.

Booster Gold is complaining about always being on the sidelines and never in the heat of the action, even though he’s a great hero. He’s claiming that there is a bias against younger heroes, despite the fact that the ‘old guard’ will have to give it up eventually.

Apparently, Batman has had enough, because he gets up and snaps: “We don’t have bias based on age, we have one based off skill. Maybe if you stopped abandoning your post and being someone reliable, you might get put out in the field more often. Now stop being salty about it.”

It’s silent.

Clark is scrambling his brain, to figure out the meaning. As a journalist he tries to stay up to date on current language use, however, the only person he’s heard use that word is Jon. The boy never explained, but Clark guessed what it means. Doesn’t explain why Batman knows it.

Then the silence gets broken by a snort, everyone’s head whipping towards the source. It’s Nightwing, a newer addition and one affiliated with Batman himself. The only one there brave enough to laugh at Batman, mirthfully asking: “Did you actually say salty?”

There is no change on Batman’s face, but as a longtime friend, Clark knows he isn’t emotionless. Indeed, when he listens close, he can hear the blood rush to his face, blush hidden by the cowl.

“That was not the point of the sentence, Nightwing,” Batman counters, the name a little bit pointed on is tongue.

“Okay, okay,” Nightwing grins easily, showing his hands in surrender, an act which is made null by him adding: “Just pointing out that this is an official meeting. You’re on the record and you know I’m reporting this to the others.”

Red Robin and Robin, Clark fills in mentally, the other two known associates. Everyone already guessed that Nightwing must be close to them as well, since the younger two are closer to being Batman’s children. Now that is confirmed.

“Thank you for reminding me,” Batman says tersely, before quickly pivoting to the next point on the agenda. No one calls him out for it.

However, just because no one calls him out on it, doesn’t mean they drop it. In the weeks after the incident, whispers make their way through the halls of the Watchtower as people speculate why or how Batman came to use the word salty and how out of character it is.

Clark can hear the gossip all over the Watchtower and he’s sure Batman is aware of it too, because some brave souls have asked about. Especially when some of the others talked about the incident not being the first one.

Batman hasn’t replied yet to any of the questions or rumors. Clark thinks he likes the mystery and chaos, likes that they don’t know why the hell he sometimes lets slang slip. Even Nightwing has been seemingly silenced, never commenting with a sort of professional ease at evasion.

Nightwing is the only clue they have, along with Robin and Red Robin, but none of them seem like the culprit.

It just doesn’t make sense and Clark can’t help but have his reporter brain itch.

+1. The Batfamily

There is going to be an attack somewhere in a major city in America tonight. They cannot figure out where, so there is a nation wide stake out at all the important places. Nearly the entire Justice League has been pulled out for it and even then they don’t have enough.

Batman insists on having a skeleton crew remain on the Watchtower in case the threat turns out to be a distraction. And when it is protested, he pulls out an army of associates none of them have ever heard about to fill out the last gaps in their observational net.

The sudden introduction of about six new Gotham vigilantes, which have apparently been operating inside the city as well as outside of it, would have been the main shock if it weren’t for how they are on coms.

Red Robin and Nightwing are known as professionals like Batman, while Robin isn’t a known entity in missions, though those who have met him, know him to be serious. However, with the introduction of the others all of that professionalism melts away.

It starts about 45 minuted into their mission when Spoiler’s voice suddenly crackles over the coms: “I fucking hate stake outs, they’re so boring.”

“I know right, my ass is starting to hurt,” Red Robin – to everyone’s surprise – replies.

“No chatter on the coms,” Batman dutifully reproaches like he always does, but he sounds less stern this time. It’s as if he knows they won’t listen, but says it because it’s his role to do so.

Red Hood ignores Batman completely, idly commenting: “I don’t know, stake outs always hit different for me.”

“That’s just because you’re boring AF,” Spoiler says, an eyeroll practically audible.

“Oi, take that back,” Red Hood says, offended. “I didn’t die to have you slander my name like that!”

This is horrifying news for most of the other people stuck on the coms, however, there is a cacophony of annoyed groans as well. Why anyone would be so blasé about someone mentioning their death, they don’t know.

Until, Robin says: “Cease mentioning your death as excuse. It’s unbecoming to be so reliant on one measly event. You’re not the only one who has died, don’t be – what was it? – ah, yes, don’t be basic, Hood.”

“Yeah, Hood, don’t be salty just because you’re becoming a boring old man,” Red Robin pipes up, sounding smug. That solves the salty mystery.

“Shut up, Replacement,” Red Hood huffs. “I can talk about my death as much as I want to and you can’t stop me.”

“Hood, please, stop talking about your death, you’re going to make B sad,” Nightwing suddenly interjects, stopping the conversation before it can get out of hand.

Those with super hearing will hear Barry mutter in a shocked manner: “Is he talking about Batman?” But he is overshadowed by most of the newly introduced (and already) known Bat-associates booing loudly.

“Don’t be a fucking suck up, Dick” Spoiler hollers, only those in the know picking up on the fact it’s his name. It’s the only time Batman won’t correct them, because not everyone will know it’s a name unless it’s pointed out.

“Periodt,” the quiet voice of Black Bat supports Spoiler.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about, BB,” Spoiler cheers when she hears the other girl.

“That was the correct usage?” Black Bat asks.

“It was, well done,” Oracle’s kind voice comes over the coms, from where she is in her lair helping with coordination.

After that it all quiets down again for about half an hour, then Bluebird breaks the quiet again, complaining: “I can’t believe I had to stay behind in Gotham of all places.”

“You live there. Willingly,” Signal answers. “And I had to stay behind too, you know.”

“They’re sleeping on us, Signal, be upset with me,” Bluebird exclaims, indignantly.

“Okay, but tea though,” Spoiler says, most of the Justice League listening in are starting to learn she likes stirring the pot a little.

“Don’t be a simp, Spoils,” Red Robin says.

“Oh, look who’s talking about being a simp,” Red Hood snorts loudly. “I observed you, loser boy, you’re the simp.”

“It’s not as much of the serve you think it is to admit to stalking me,” Red Robin deadpans.

“RR, not to be that bitch, but you’re the OG stalker, maybe- maybe don’t do that,” Nightwing says cautiously, which is apparently funny enough that multiple people start laughing.

Meanwhile Red Robin complains: “Stop laughing at me, when I did it was totally different, I didn’t plan on killing any of you.” Which is mildly disturbing

“Oi, I never planned to actually kill you-kill you either,” Red Hood protests, even more disturbing. The Justice League is starting to wonder why Batman works with the man.

“Stop with the chatter,” Batman interjects again, before it can go further. “It’s not just us on the com lines now. At least try to be professional.”

And much to the horror of the League, who could never imagine doing such a thing, Batman gets booed. Again. This time directly.

Then to add to the horror, Batman doesn’t explode in anger, like everyone would have imagined, instead he just sighs. Defeated. Batman is like a cockroach, he doesn’t get defeated. However, these kids are managing.

Batman remains defeated too, because the Gotham vigilantes continue to idly chat all throughout the next hour. They are definitely bat associated, because they never reveal any information that could be tied to their civilian identity. Instead discussing other missions, general news, funny things they saw on patrol and personal grievances with the others on the line.

If this is what Batman deals with on the day to day, some are starting to see why he would prefer the heroes of the Justice League to keep their mouths shut on missions unless it’s important.

Most try to tune it out and focus on their own stake out, though the voices keep them awake. But they notice when Spoiler’s voice suddenly becomes serious as she reports: “Sus individuals moving towards the Mayor’s office.”

“Received, getting visual on your location,” Oracle’s voice replies, also snapped back into professionalism.

Spoiler reports their appearances and currently location, until Oracle has them, running a check on them, before confirming they have a criminal record and might be thugs for hire. Spoiler says: “I am going to move in.”

Batman says: “Do not engage, Spoiler, they could be a decoy. Try and get more information first.”

“Alright, alright,” Spoiler huffs. Then adds petulantly: “I’m not gonna do it, I was just thinking about it.”

Which sounds pretty reasonable for most listening in, who aren’t of the right age group to know the meme. Batman, however, does know, because he’s been subjected to it multiple times. So, he yells: “Spoiler, no!” startling some members.

A second later, there are sounds of a fight and Spoiler gleefully saying: “I did it.”

Batman lets out a frustrated growl, but Spoiler pays it no mind and she can’t truly get chewed out, because more and more start to report suspicious individuals moving in on the targets they’re watching.

Within minutes of it starting, Nightwing reports: “They’re decoys with targets. Not the main attack, but will do damage if they succeed.”

“Everyone make sure to take out the decoys,” Batman says. “Those without decoys, keep your eyes peeled, you might be at the real target.”

“Done with my targets, moving to help the others now,” Nightwing reports seriously, before he adds: “And can I just say that I’m the GOAT. Dibs on cookies for finishing first.”

“Okay, shade much,” Bluebird says.

“Don’t be arrogant, it’s unbecoming,” Robin retorts as well.

“Yeah, stop flexing,” Spoiler adds. “I’ve wrapped up too, by the way. You’re not special.”

“Let me have this,” Nightwing complains. “You already took all my shit, let me be cool. You all used to think I was cool.”

“Yeah, used to,” Red Hood scoffs. “Then we all realized you’re a looser.”

“Ha, get wrecked,” Red Robin snorts.

“Baby bird, wasn’t I your favorite?” Nightwing asks hurt, though over the top enough to show he is faking it.

“No, sadly, that was Hood,” Red Robin replies, sounding a little like he’s grimacing.

“No cap?” Red Hood asks, surprised.

“No cap,” Red Robin confirms.

“Now I feel kind of bad for you,” Red Hood says, before some bullets are fired. “Wrapped up here, moving to help.”

Red Robin seems glad to not have to reply and none of the other Gothamites do either. With what the League has heard so far, they’re also kind of happy the topic is being dropped, unsure what to think.

Batman’s associates are among the first ones cleaning up, however, soon others are joining them and the true battles grounds – yes, there are multiple targets, these people are organized (Batman will likely obsess until he has tracked down their organization afterwards) – are discovered and heroes move in to fight them.

Throughout the battle, everyone catches snippets of this strange, newly introduced group. A group, who works well together, like an oiled machine, yet obviously made up of highly competent parts that can act on their own as well.

Like Black Bat calling out: “Red Hood, yeet,” before those fighting alongside them see Red Hood boost her into the air, so she can come flying at the terrorists.

But they also make comments about the people they’re fighting and the others that are fighting alongside them.

Signal calling out: “Bluebird is pulling some sick ass moves. Another one for her on the slay-board, Oracle.”

Or Spoiler commenting: “Okay, not to be like that or whatever, but these terrorists are kind of looking snatched.”

To which Batman sighs: “Spoiler, please, no chatter,” in a vain attempt to get them under control.

“What?” Spoiler says. “I can appreciate when they’ve at least tried to pull a fit instead of that usual para-military, ninja type BS.”

“Go off,” Black Bat pipes up again and Spoiler cheers while Batman drops it. Defeated again.

They also check in on each other, with Red Robin hissing in pain, which is immediately followed by Nightwing going: “RR, you good, fam?”

“Gucci,” Red Robin replies. “Just low-key got stabbed.”

“There’s nothing low-key about getting stabbed!” Nightwing exclaims, getting called a hypocrite by many people, while Batman is already calling for Oracle to get a visual and for a medic to head Red Robin’s way.

By the time the battle is over, the Justice League understands how different the team is that Batman usually works with. If they were surrounded by heroes who talked like that continuously, they would have probably picked up some things here and there too.

Still, it fucking weird when Batman checks over his horde, before declaring: “You were all lit out there,” causing multiple of the kids around him to groan loudly, with Bluebird calling Batman a boomer.

Clark, however, sees a small uptick in Batman’s mouth. And in that moment, he knows Batman is doing it on purpose, that he’s enjoying it. That he’s fucking with them. He doesn’t know what to do with that, nor does he think that anyone will believe it. So, he decides to share the amusement and drop it.

They’re never going to figure out Batman.

~~

A/N:

This work is going to get dated so so so fast lmao, but it’s fun rn (if ur commenting in the future, welcome to outdated slang vibes from someone who wasn’t that up to date with current slang when writing it, bc im secretly a grandpa).

Hopefully I didn’t overdo it to an unrealistic degree, but if I did, such is the story that was being told oops

Also this whole fic is just an excuse for me to write batfam banter bc I love it lmao

I didn’t include Batwing, Batwoman and Flamebird here, sorry, but writing the batfam is always so hard bc there are so many characters T-T

[innerfare]

Blue Balls - Law: Part 2

Summary: Law takes care of his blue balls; text below the cut. If you haven't already, read Part 1 here!

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Afab!Reader

Genre: smut

CW: dirty talk, daddy Law, penetrative sex

Word Count: 1,437

———

Feeling as if he had finished a marathon, Law fell backward on his bed. His mattress had never felt so plush, his blankets so soft. He kicked off his boots and slid further back, propping himself up on the pillows to watch you close and lock the door behind you. 

“Y/n-ah,” he said in annoyance when you didn’t dive into bed after him. 

“So impatient,” you tutted, kicking off your boots. You took off your shirt and slipped off your pants, leaving you in a matching bra and panties that were all pale blue tulle and white lace, the frivolous sort of thing Captain Law disdained unless it was on your pretty body. 

He narrowed his eyes analytically at the coordinating intimates and propped himself up on his elbows. “You knew, you little brat.” 

“Knew what? That you would snap today?” A smile ghosted your lips. “I had a hunch.” 

Law opened his mouth to chew you out, but his mind went blank when you reached up and pulled your hair out of its clip, allowing it to spill down your shoulders. He loved the color of it against your skin, almost as much as he loved the sight of your nipples poking through your bra, obscured in part by your curtain of hair. 

“Come here.” He patted the bed beside him expectantly. 

“Should I?” You ran your fingers through your hair like you knew he was dying to do. 

“Y/n-ah,” he scolded. “You know I don’t like these games.” 

“You know I do.” You pulled on the straps of your bra a few times, causing your breasts to bounce up and down. 

“I’m the captain, and I say to come here.” 

“You think pulling rank will work on me?” 

Law thought he was going to explode. He wanted to scream and smash things, to slam his fist into the metal wall until there was a dent beyond any hope of repairing, until his knuckles were bloody and his fingers and hand were broken. Instead, he uttered a small, “please.” 

He was a pathetic, trembling creature. Had he looked in the mirror in that moment, he wouldn’t have recognized the face that looked back at him, the frown lines and furrowed brows a usual fixture but the quivering lips a new, despicable addition. But he didn’t care, not when you climbed onto the bed and crawled toward him, your breasts spilling out of your bra and your ass in the air, a sound like a purr leaving your lips. 

“That’s it,” he muttered, his throat and lips dry. “Come to daddy.” 

“Daddy, huh?” You straddled his hips. “You’re sure not acting like yourself, daddy.” You had grown accustomed to the quiet dominance your boyfriend exuded, the precision with which he guided both of you to orgasm. The desperate man beneath you was a far cry from Trafalgar D. Water Law, the way he whined when you sat down on his erection proof of that. 

“Must you torture me?” He grabbed your hips and tried to pull your core against his painful bulge, but you resisted. 

“Law.” You placed your hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb up and down. “If it was this bad, you should’ve said something. I would have helped you.” 

“Liar. You’ve been teasing me all week.” 

“Only a little.” 

“Besides, what was I supposed to do? You’re always with Bepo.” 

It had been hell to get him to open up before, to trust you enough to express his needs, and in the time you had been away, he had clearly regressed. Knowing what your patient needed, you stopped teasing and began unbuttoning that black shirt of his. 

Law felt giddy as your fingers worked at his buttons. He could do nothing but watch, the anticipation building in his gut. Just when he thought you were going to punish him endlessly, you gave him exactly what he needed, just like you always did. Your ability to tell when he was right on the edge was something to be studied. 

“Come on, daddy,” you whispered in encouragement, lips brushing against his. “Show me how much you missed me.” You finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled the black fabric off his skin. He helped you get it off and threw it across the room where he intended for it to stay for the rest of the afternoon and night and well into the early hours of the morning, perhaps even the hours of the next evening. 

Finally, he had a sense of control again. It put him at ease, the feel of his blankets against his bare skin, and he flipped you over. There was no stopping him, not after that. 

“You should’ve said something,” he mocked, shoving your bra straps off your shoulders and pushing the stupid garment down around your midsection. “I would have helped you.” He caught one of your nipples in his mouth, biting down hard. 

You yelped, hands going to those broad, tattooed shoulders of his. 

Law clamped a hand over your mouth, his free hand tormenting your other nipple. He tugged and sucked, catching your moans in his hand. He wanted to do that to you for hours, wanted you to feel the ache he felt, but he didn’t last long enough to torture you. 

As soon as he felt you tugging at his belt, he came undone. 

He pushed your hands out of the way and undid his belt himself, unbuttoning his pants, too, and shoving his zipper down. He pulled out his throbbing length, careful not to crush his sensitive balls, and gave himself a few strokes. His breathing turned shallow, and he felt his face and chest flush. 

Finally. 

He shoved your panties to the side. His fingers stroked your entrance a few times, making sure you were good and wet. He pushed two inside you to stretch you out a little, but the feel of all that warm wetness was too good for him to waste on his fingers. 

“That’s it, daddy,” you said as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Just like that.” 

Law growled. He pushed the head inside you, almost missing your moan as white hot pleasure washed over him. He sank his full length into you, burying his face in your neck and bottoming out in your cunt as it clenched hard around his length. 

“Oh, fuck. Y/n-ah.” 

You thought you might cry- finally, you felt full again. You wrapped your legs around your boyfriend’s waist and tangled your fingers in his hair, the feel of his hot breath against your neck and your aching nipples pressing into his hard chest only adding to the sensation. 

“Fuck me, daddy.” 

With measured breaths, he began moving. His rhythm was sloppy, rather out of character for a man like Law, and you both knew it. He couldn’t find a good pace, though, not without the rubber band in his belly snapping and him emptying all the tension in his balls before you even got the chance to adjust to his size. 

“Don’t worry about me,” you said in his ear. “I just want you to cum.” 

“Ugh, don’t say that.” 

“Cum,” you told him anyway, relishing the feel of his thrusts as they grew sloppier. He had the perfect size cock, nice and thick, curved at just the right angle to stimulate your g-spot without much effort. And he thumbed your clit out of habit, not even realizing how mindlessly yet effectively he pleasured you. “Cum inside me, daddy. Please cum inside me. Balls deep. It would feel so good, wouldn’t it?” 

Law grunted into your neck. “Y/n-ah. Oh, y/n-ah” With that, he shot his load inside you, pumping his hot seed as deep as he could get it. And just when he thought it should be finished, it continued, more and more shooting out of him. He felt it seeping out, gathering around the base of his cock and balls. He couldn’t even experience the embarrassment of cumming so quickly, not with the amount of tension he had just worked out of his system. 

He fell on top of you, almost crushing you with his body weight. 

“Mmm.” You hummed in his ear. Though he was heavy, the feeling of your bare chests pressed together was well worth it. “Law?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you wear the black shirt because you know it’s my favorite?” 

“Hmph.” 

You giggled and tangled your fingers in his hair. “Law?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Can we go again?” 

Already, he felt the hormones raging in his system, the blood flowing right back to his cock. He untangled himself from you and sat back on the pillows. “Take that off,” he said, eying your bra. He tugged on your panties. “We’re just getting started.” 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[dadsbongos]

how to (unintentionally) drive away a suitor

5.4 k words / warnings - misunderstandings, you're manipulative but in a marriage-seeker way, lame ass exposition dump at the beginning sorry

summary - you go to The Island in hopes of finding a suitor better than what your parents picked, you meet Laios. disaster ensues.

posting while bleaching my hair send hlep ~~~

When you were five, your father’s first hunting dog died. Matilda. A hound mix he praised as if she were his firstborn, and that would sound neglectful if she didn’t feel like your eldest sister. When she died, a true member of the family died. Your child heart exploding out of your little chest with the mosaic of grief ripping you this way and that. It was so ugly, you hadn’t expected to feel that way until your parents or a human sister croaked on you.

It’d also inspired you to do better for yourself than what destiny had in mind. As the youngest in a long line of children, you had little hope of a large inheritance from your well-off father. Instead, you would marry rich and smart and handsome.

Leading you, with a throbbing disinterest in the suitor picked by your parents, to set for The Island in the year 510.

Where you met a very strange man named Laios Touden.

Denial

Month 1 - your first proposition

“We should celebrate with drinks,” you skim a finger along the waistline of his cuirass, “Another dive with no deaths.”

“Oh, yeah,” Laios nods, grinning blandly at you, “You think I could rope Shuro into sticking around this time? He usually skips nights out unless Falin asks.”

“I was thinking something a little more private. Just you and me, maybe?”

“Sure,” suddenly his brows furrow, a serious ridge setting across his lips, “Is there something you need? I know rent in the western part of The Island is starting to go up, do you live there?”

“Laios, I- “ you cut yourself off before reminding him you two live on the same street because a sudden idea strikes you. He’s doing this on purpose. Of course, he is. He’s the type of guy that wants you to actually ask for it, “I mean, if you really want then I guess everyone coming isn’t so bad.”

But two can play at that game.

“Okay, great! I’ll let the party know,” he gives you a thumbs up and turns towards the rest of your group as they pack for the surface.

You watch him wrap an arm around Toshiro and beam at the withdrawn man. You deduce that he’s the type that likes to be chased. Which you feel is a little beneath you, but you’re willing to play a long game as long as he makes it worth your time.

Month 2 - the time you take him to dinner

“This place is so quiet,” Laios murmurs, both hands splayed across the table.

You study his fingers, thick and red at the joints -- you bet a gold wedding band would glitter nicely on his hand. Candle light flickers suddenly, a shadow sharpening across his face as he looks around. This snags your attention, you lean forward and curl both arms on the table, chest pressing into the well.

“Well, it’s nice, right?”

“I guess,” he avoids looking you in the face, instead focusing on your painted lips before flitting to the table, “I just feel like it's more for couples, right?”

This is it!

“Huh, you think so?”

“Mhm,” his eyes settle between your own, observing the curve from your forehead to your nose.

“I bet we make a pretty couple, then.”

“Oh,” he nods slowly, mulling over the suggestion, “Probably. I’d say we’re both decently attractive people.”

Is this it?

Just as you go to ask what exactly he means by that, your food is ready and Laios starts rambling about how hungry he was regardless of the awkward atmosphere. It makes no sense, but he’s the next village chief of his hometown so you let it pass.

Month 6 - the time you two take a walk

“Thanks for accompanying me.”

Laios waves off your gratitude, “It was nice to find out we live on the same street anyway.”

You bite your tongue from telling him that he should already know this in favor of boldly wrapping an arm around his. A rehearsed yelp splices your throat; practiced stumble rocking you askew. Immediately, you set to memorizing the feel of his beefy bicep around yours, wondering how his waist feels. His thighs. His neck and calves and cheeks.

“I saw a rat,” the lie slips easily, spare hand coming up to coyly cup your own cheek.

“Really?” he peeks over your head, “Where?”

“Laios, that’s not important!”

“I didn’t hear any squeaking, do you think it was trying to be quiet?”

“Laios!” you pinch his arm, apologetically rubbing over the tender skin when he whines, “I hate rats…”

“They’re just- “ your sudden furrowing brows and massive scowl halts the rest of his sentence, “Sorry. Are you scared of them?” before you can respond, he spins you towards his other side -- arms still linked tightly, “If you heard it over here, it’s probably best I stay on this side.”

“Aww,” you tilt your head against his shoulder, “That’s actually so sweet, Laios. Thank you.”

“Uh-huh,” you’re too blinded by the gesture to notice his intense stare scavenging along the dark ground, if you did then you probably would’ve realized he just wanted to see a rat.

Month 11 - the time you find his gourmet guide

“Is this why you started a party?”

“No,” his face flushes rogue from forehead to collarbones, eyes darting away from you. Hands twitching to rip the book from your own.

“You’re an awful liar,” you wave the stained, peeling green book -- careful to not rip any of his carefully placed tabs or note cards in the swaying, “Why hide this? Everyone already knows you’re chock full of monster trivia.”

Laios sighs quietly, reaching out for the book, and he seems genuinely surprised with what little fight you put up. He smooths one of the curling edges of the cover under his thumb, “This book hasn’t gotten the best reception before. It's easier to just avoid people seeing it.”

Somewhere in your chest, there’s a twinge and ache before you’re speaking again -- for once no plan or motive to your words, “That’s terrible, Laios. You should be able to show it off.”

“You think so?” he grins.

Technically comforting him will only advance your plan to wed, but strangely you’re finding that you just… want to. You don’t want him to filter himself to live, that sounds cruel.

“You can talk to me about it anytime,” you don’t find monsters so fascinating -- to you they’re no different from a common beast, what does it matter that they’re eaten by Laios? Despite your own indifference, you want nothing more than to indulge Laios, “I’d love to hear about how they taste.”

And you’re not sure where that desire comes from.

“I haven’t been able to eat one yet, but I’m hoping to. I can’t find time to traverse the first few floors by myself.”

You just know that it feels right to see him excited.

“You don’t have to go by yourself now, I can join. You’ll be able to go deeper that way, right?” you laugh at his flaming cheeks, “And what luck: I’m a support mage, you couldn’t ask for a better setup.”

“I’ll have to see when our next rest period is, that way we won’t be exhausted before going on our own.”

And when you’re in bed alone later that night, you justify to yourself that having a secret between one another will lay good foundation for future intimacy. You pretend that was on your mind the entire time you made the offer.

Year 2 - the time you invite him into your home

“I have lychees. It’d be a shame to let them go bad, you know?”

“What are lychee?” Laios glances from your neck to your room door.

“You’re kidding,” you twist the knob and swing it open with the weight of your body, thudding against the wall to allow Laios entry, “They’re fruits! Imports from the Eastern Archipelago, I would’ve thought you’d hear about them since you pester Toshiro about the area all the time…”

Laios’ head is on a full axis swivel to find anything unfamiliar, ready to taste all your excitement about the fruits, “No, never came up,” he watches you stride past him to a cabinet, “By the way, whose Toshiro?”

Quietly, you laugh to yourself, pulling down a rocky, pinkish ball. Laios is too busy thinking about the damage it’s looking to do to his bare hand to process the fact you never answered his question.

(you thought he was joking)

“Consider this a gift for walking me home again.”

“You asked,” he shrugs, watching as you squeeze around the fruit until it cracks in the middle, then peeling the shell away, “Besides, we live on the same street so it’s not out of my way.”

You hope he says that because he remembered, rather than having ‘discovered’ it for the fourth time. To stop yourself from asking clarification, you slice the pearly fruit in two, plucking the dark seed before handing both halves to Laios.

“I’ve heard some people just pop the whole thing in their mouth, but I’ve never tried it that way,” you confess, watching him roll the fruit from one cheek to the other before chomping down.

Laios’ eyes flutter shut, a muted moan following, “That’s sweet.”

“I know, right?”

“But I still get hints of citrus.”

“I know, right?!”

He points to the other lychee in your palm, “Do you have more, or…?”

You don’t.

“Have it,” you peel and deseed the one in your hand to press against his lips, “Say ‘ahh’!”

He smiles faintly at the cooing, popping his mouth open for you to slide the fruit past his teeth and onto his tongue. A soft kiss tickles your fingertips as he mutters, “Thanks.”

“Uh, yeah,” you pull back slowly, tangling your fingers behind your back and rocking onto the balls of your feet nervously, “Yeah, of course.”

You’ve never been nervous this way around a man before. You’ve felt fear and you’ve felt hatred and you’ve had crushes, but none of those have made your heart pound quite so hard.

It’ll be good to be attracted to your husband, you think, anybody can marry into power but it takes a real hunter to find power so handsome and polite.

Year 3 - the time you ask him to marry you

“We should get married,” you blurt, interrupting Laios as he ponders aloud the best way to safely boil a scorpion.

Laios darts up from his book, wide eyes unabashedly boring into your soul, “What?”

“You and me,” you’ve chased enough, now you’re ready for him to get serious -- you can’t live like this. Dangling just out of reach, only to be abruptly yanked at his whim. Your parents want to meet your fiance, the one you’ve abandoned home to find: the one you’re apparently certain is better than their choice for you. You need him to admit defeat before you go insane, “We should get married.”

“That’s what I thought you said, but I wasn’t sure,” he closes his beloved gourmet guide around a bookmark you crafted specially for him from braided yarn and beads. It had multiple tassels for slotting various spots through the guide simultaneously to more easily find sections he was currently occupied with rather than sort through tabs. He loves its practicality, and he loves it more when he thinks about how you made it with him in mind.

He thinks you’re nice. He thinks you’re charming. He likes spending time with you. You even already know about his monster obsession, and you’re on-board!

Which is basically the best he can get, right?

Dinners with his parents were silent, and the room’s temperature would sink to match their chilly demeanors.

Dinners with you would be warm, and the quiet moments would be comfortable.

“Sure,” he eventually answers, when he finds no protesting nausea bubbling in his gut he takes it as a good sign, “We can get married.”

Not the exact response you’d been hoping for. Though, you should’ve been more direct, Laios is stubbornly socially inept after all.

You’ll mark it as progress anyway, overjoyed Laios is baseline willing. Which is enough for you.

Definitely enough.

Definitely. Just. Enough.

Anger

Upon arrival to the dungeon three years ago, you found it difficult to acclimate to the fact that death was not the end down here. When you saw your first corpse on the second level, you were nigh inconsolable in the weary arms of Toshiro as he mumbled assurances in your ear.

Now, as a seasoned adventurer, you’re reasoning that coldblooded murder isn’t immoral in the dungeon.

(of course, it is, and also of course, you won’t murder anybody. but- )

You rather like the image of the woman flirting with Laios exploding

Honestly the longer he goes without refusing her, the more you like the image of him exploding too.

“Laios is an idiot,” Toshiro again is the one to comfort you, “It’s best not to watch.”

You’re sure he’s right. You’re also sure you want to keep watching -- which will entirely ruin your mood for the crawl ahead of your party. This is only your first day, on the first level, during the first meal before you all officially set off. And Laios is explaining to a strange, yet beautiful, woman the way a slime can seep out overhead and suffocate her to death. She isn’t even appreciating the knowledge, she’s just staring at his stupid pink lips.

“Once she hears what he’s saying, she’ll lose all interest,” Toshiro adds, then continuing as your glare fails to subside, “It isn’t like you two are actually married. She probably thinks he’s single.”

“He is single,” Chilchuck buds in, hands locked behind his head, “Inter-party relationships are bad news, you know? I’ve seen lots of people fall apart because of jealousy and cheating,” he shoots daggers at Toshiro briefly, “Pining is just the first step to an all out collapse.”

You gasp at the accusation. You are not pining!

“I don’t even like him that way. We should just get married for the land and wealth advantages!”

You entertain his monster fantasies for the money, you feed him lychees for the status, and you’re fiending to rip that woman away for the property expansion. That’s all! His being handsome is just a bonus, not a factor. His soft heart is a neat detail, not something you dream about holding.

Chilchuck doesn’t believe you. And you don’t think you believe yourself at this point either.

Depression

In the wake of Chilchuck’s ominous warning: you’ve been avoiding Laios. You’ve been avoiding most of your party, actually. First to lay and last to rise from your bedroll to most effectively close yourself off from nipping at Laios again.

He hadn’t even managed the nerve to ask what had you so perturbed following his conversation with the floozy on the first floor. He just strolls along, normal as he could hope to be while you languish in the back of the party with Toshiro. You wonder if Laios notices you’re not at his side, you wonder what precisely is going through his head. Did he notice she was flirting? Did he care? Is he still keen on marrying you?

Was he ever?

Toshiro catches the sudden exasperated huff you let out, you rub at your aching eyes. While he detests Laios’ clueless and overly familiar nature, he does feel grateful to work with you. He’d consider it a massive shame if you were to drop from the party because of emotional duress.

“Read any good books lately?”

Your hands lower, eyes blinking sluggishly until you’re staring at him with full inquisition, “What…?”

Maintaining a forward stare, Toshiro reaffirms his resolve, “Humor me.”

“Uh, well…” you comb through your brain for any answer other than the honest one, exhaustion and melancholy blurring your lying ability, “Just one.”

Eager to strengthen your bond and hopefully secure your stay in the party when this Laios fiasco fully explodes, Toshiro smiles softly at you, “Tell me about it.”

“It’s, well, old. Really old. A little gourmet guide…” you pout, “Laios and I read it together.”

“Oh,” Toshiro clears his throat, “Sorry.”

Bargaining

Laios could not seem to care less as the handsome dwarf perched at your side pays you yet another compliment. A shred of you feels terrible, terrible pity for the man as every other second your attention sears across the packed tavern to your party. To the blondie still in his armor; the blondie not even looking your way.

“Another drink, then?”

“Hm?” you beat ungracefully, forgetting you were meant to be charming the man.

“Would you like another drink?” he gestures to the barrels behind the bar, “On my coin, of course,” his tone falters, head shifting to follow yours, “I get the idea you need to forget this night.”

“Oh, I- no, it’s nothing…” you risk another peek at Laios, finding him somehow more disinterested in you than before -- thoroughly enjoying a one-sided conversation with Toshiro, “I’m not…”

“Better ways to get your mister’s attention than flirting.”

“Oh,” you’re embarrassed to be figured out like this, “I’m sorry. Really, I can’t- God- I’m sorry.”

“He’s lookin’ this way.”

Chancing it, you confirm that Laios is now looking at the both of you. His amber eyes flit from your face to the man beside you, to the floor. He returns all focus to Toshiro.

“Wow.”

From pitier to pitied at breakneck speed is more jarring than Laios’ carelessness.

“He said he wanted to marry me,” you reason.

“Did he now?” the dwarf so obviously disbelieves you, you’re sick just hearing his voice.

“Yeah!”

The dwarf nods slowly, a sarcastic lilt in his following words, “Seems like he meant it.”

“I’m not drinking anymore…” you slide off the bar stool, pausing when the man’s voice punches your gut once more.

“You should find someone more attentive to you.”

Racing away from the dwarf, you tug Laios away from your party’s table by his elbow. You’re glaring, you’re glaring so hard and so viciously that it genuinely startles him.

“Are you okay?” his neck cranes to gaze upon the dwarf, “You were talking to that guy, right? Did he freak you out?”

“So you knew I was with him?” you scoff, “Don’t you care at all?”

Laios shrugs, he didn’t see flirting -- he has no idea what you’re talking about, and he doesn’t want to seem like a nightmare boss, so… “Not really, I guess.”

“Are you serious?!”

“It’s not a crime for you to unwind at a bar. Besides, it isn’t like we belong to each other or something.”

You turn suddenly, back completely to him before charging out of the bar -- Laios chases, disliking how this conversation is slated to end. He slams into you at the edge of the street, and when he tries balancing you by the shoulders you knock his hands away.

“I thought- “ you circle back to stare at his face, “I thought we were… I was always on top of you, and we- I said- you said we should get married.”

Laios squirms with humiliation, then irritation, “Well, you said it weird. Marcille says that stuff to Falin all the time. Why didn’t you just ask to be together?”

“I did!”

“Did you?”

“All the time…”

Acceptance

Laios squirms with humiliation, then irritation, “Well, you said it weird. Marcille says that stuff to Falin all the time. Why didn’t you just ask to be together?”

“I did!”

“Did you?”

“All the time…”

“I never knew,” he blinks at you, and the most dreadful thing is you know he’s not bluffing. Laios is a terrible liar, you’ve prided yourself on plucking his fibs apart in the past, but this is not one of those times.

“You didn’t notice?” you’re lightheaded at his nonchalance, arms coiling around your waist as if to belt your insides right where they are, “You seriously didn’t notice?”

“No,” Laios’ pretty lips tear in a frown, “Should I have?”

He means it literally: are you terribly sad or can we start all over again?

You assume he’s being himself, oblivious and avoidant and so, so, so annoying.

“I’m…” you stumble back, face so hot you’re seconds away from blacking out with terror. Stretching out to steady you, Laios continues to play the kind leader, and it only makes your dinner lurch up your throat. Instinctually, you clasp a hand over your mouth, shaking your head and taking a step back toward the bustling dirt path, “I’m going home.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to, we can- ”

You shush Laios, memories whacking you over the head every millisecond just to taunt how stupid you were. Indignity blinds you, eyes snapping shut, “I’m going home, Laios.”

Panicked, you stammer a goodbye before lugging yourself away. Laios watches you fade into silhouette, drowning under the clogging crowd by townsquare until not even your head is visible. His fists screw at his sides, knuckles burning white, his feet feel the phantom pummeling of a rush against the ground; urging him forward. That might scare you though, and you already seemed awfully upset, so Laios figures it better to let you sleep off tonight. The two of you can rekindle tomorrow.

Peeking over your shoulder, you spot no broad shoulders or sandy blonde hair looming over the rest of the townsfolk.

Call it melodramatic and frustrating, but you were hoping Laios would follow just to grab your hand and ask you to stay. Not that you should be surprised. More often than not recently, you’d felt a burden on the party. Perhaps Laios is content you’re removing yourself. Perhaps he’ll be relieved you’re no longer pestering him. Perhaps he’ll walk inside and out your feelings to the rest of the party for them to share a laugh over.

(you should know him better than that, but you’re not in your right mind: storming into your room, a teary-eyed mess, to throw your things into bags)

Laios feels a lithe hand dig nails into his arm, he squeals sharply at the sensation and rips back to see Marcille gaping up at him. She throws an arm out toward the dirt road, “What are you doing?!”

Falin gently pries the elf off from Laios before humming thoughtfully at her brother, “They seemed really distraught. What happened?”

“Where’d you two come from?” Laios twists toward the tavern door, “I didn’t hear you at all…”

Flustered at the questioning, Marcille scoffs and drags Laios inside toward their table, “This isn’t about us! Have you never read romance before?! That was terrible!”

“They were upset, they probably wanted space,” Laios reasons, slumping into his seat at the head of the table, “We’ll see them tomorrow, we’ll talk again.”

“What’d you do now?” Chilchuck lifts a bottle of wine to his lips and tosses it back in a way that makes Toshiro cringe.

Namari quirks a brow at the man, waiting until he’s finished gulping to ask, “I thought you hated personal relationships and work?”

“I do, but if he just got rid of our other cleric then we should probably know about it.”

“I didn’t get rid of them!” Laios folds his arms with a sigh, “We’ll sort everything out tomorrow when we’re well-rested.”

Toshiro debates even opening his mouth. Laios is a one-man paradox, somehow well-meaning and belligerent in one breath -- overbearing and entirely hands-off. Laios’ spot in Toshiro’s heart is a complicated one: at this very moment the spot is incredibly tender. Down to that part of a night out where Toshiro empathizes with how clueless the bumpkin is, and it's that part of his brain that chastises him. After all, if it were him and Falin, he would want someone to say something.

“They’re going home,” Toshiro mumbles.

“Huh?” Laios cocks his head at the input, “I know, buddy, she told me she was heading home.”

“No,” be nice, be nice, be nice, be nice, “Home off The Island. No returning to the dungeon.”

“How’d you get all that?” Marcille leans onto the table with both elbows, nervously brushing long flaxen locks behind her ears.

“When we first met, it was something we talked about,” Toshiro confesses, “If they couldn’t marry on The Island, they’d have to take the suitor arranged by their parents back home. This rejection must be the final one.”

With Falin around, he decides to bite back his next statement: I’m not sure why Laios caught their eye in the first place, though.

“Pretty ditzy of you, party leader,” Chilchuck’s jab echoes into the bottle already resettled against his lips.

Laios stands, unsure of why except for the fact he cannot take the news lightly. His heart is racing in protest, one word jamming another in his hurry to speak, until he finally stutters out, “So?”

So, what should I do?

So, why wouldn’t you mention that?

So, why did he let you walk home alone?

“So…” Falin jumps to respond first, settling a massassing hand on Marcille’s shoulder to subdue the fuming woman, “If you want to smooth things over, you should probably go.”

Laios charges from the tavern despite Namari’s scolding that tonight was supposed to be on his tab.

Quickly coming to terms with the fact you’re long gone, Laios heads straight for the inn he and Falin live above. Certain once on that road, the memory of which hostel you’re renting out of will flood back to him.

. . .

You’re jamming bags puffy to the clasp when overzealous knocks threaten to rattle your door from its hinges. The only reason you don’t flee via window to shake the banging madman is because you recognize his voice: Laios, calling your name.

You sigh, forfeiting, “Come in, Laios!”

Despite your own disinterest, you want nothing more than to indulge Laios. It seems that this is something you’ll let devour you.

Flinging the door open and shut behind him, Laios stares at you -- slack jawed and pupils eating away irises. He stares into your face.

“What is it, Lai- “

“We can actually get married!” he blurts, stunning you into utter bewilderment, “You don’t have to take a suitor, you can marry me for real! I don’t care much for inheriting the village, but we can tell your parents I do.”

“Laios…”

“I don’t have much to throw for a wedding, though, so it’ll have to be something quieter than you probably imagined.”

“Laios.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t marry you,” you turn away from his confused pinch, now sweeping a finger along the scratched edge of your nightstand, “You don’t get it.”

“So make me get it,” he says so casually, you almost believe it’s really that easy.

“I can’t marry you because I don’t care about your dad,” he’s struggling to hold in the confused puppy-head-tilt of questioning, you can sense it, “I stopped throwing myself at you for stupid titles a while ago. For a long time I did it genuinely. Because I wanted to.”

“Because you liked me.”

“Now he gets it,” you huff bitterly.

“I can hear you,” Laios steps bravely to be beside you, “Do you still like me?”

You laugh because that’s all you can think to do. The sun just asked a daisy if it enjoys photosynthesis. A rhino wonders if the oxpecker is well fed. A black cat curls around an orange one in a window sill. Weeds grow so tangled up they need to be ripped as a knot. Two moth-gnawed coats hanging in the back of a rich man’s closet. Stars scorching at one another, colliding lightyears ahead. Squiggly stick figures holding hands in a defaced oil painting. Two eagles clawing at one another as they plummet from the sky.

“I don’t know if there’s a plane where I don’t.”

His morbid fascination and tactless enjoyment of life have you in a chokehold, one so fatally unshakable you’re certain he’ll someday kill you. Eventually, he’ll say something so thoughtlessly true to himself, with so much excitement it oozes from his pores, that you’ll have a heart attack then and there.

“So, why not stay?”

One day, he’ll lead you so deep into the dungeon that you cannot escape.

“You know what you’re implying, right?” your voice catches behind chattering teeth, a nervous whisper all you can manage, “I couldn’t, not if you’re just saying this out of guilt.”

“I know what I’m saying, I want you to stay so we can be together,” his face flushes, “I know how selfish it is, but I don’t want you to go home and marry someone else for your family. I want us to marry each other because I like you.”

His abrupt and daring confession has you petrified. Only your jaw is capable of movement, and the most it can do is dumbly drop before you gargle out a stunted, “Okay.”

“Okay!” he excitedly flails out both arms before crushing you against his cuirass, intensely aggressive and deeply endearing at once, “Do I have to meet your parents now?”

“Yes, that’s kind of the reason they let me stay here, you know? To see who I’d find on The Island instead of home.”

“I hate meeting adults… they’re so… weird.”

You choose not to point out that he, as well as everyone he associates with, is an adult.

“Just be yourself,” a sudden, maybe minorly manipulative, plan roars behind your eyes, “You’ll impress them so much, they’ll leave me alone forever!”

Hope

“And since they’re slimes, if you poke their eyes they stay perfectly calm! Which is another good way to tell them from the human they’re mimicking,” your dad made the mistake of asking Laios what he studied, misinterpreting your use of ‘fascinated by nature’ to mean ‘biology scholar’. Laios immediately began ranting and neither of your parents had reawakened from their shock yet, “Succubi can also duplicate people, but that’s usually when taking the most desired form their target has. Which is mainly sex appeal, so for me it’d probably be, well you know!” he affectionately squeezes your hand in view of your parents. You watch a little more of your dad’s soul crumble within his eyes, “The strangest is probably mirror monsters though, since they reflect what they see. They rely on flattery and illusions to swap with humans. I’d love to meet one so I could see their lure techniques in real time.”

“Wow, honey,” you grin, peeking at your parents across the table, “Can you circle back to how the shapeshifters make their copies? I just can’t wrap my head around why they’d use memories instead of the real things!”

“Oh, so it’s actually pretty simple!” Laios devolves into another ramble, eyes alight with excitement.

You’re just as glad to be feeding his need to talk about monsters as you are to be terrifying your parents.

“And you have a village in the North?” your father finally coughs out, holding a hand up to silence Laios.

“It’s my father’s,” Laios glances at you through his peripherals, visibly unsure how to carry out the conversation. To his credit, he’d pestered you about what exactly you wanted him to say about his father, and you only brushed it off as something you’d take care of.

“You’re the eldest, right?” your mom chews her thumbnail nervously, “A son at that!”

“Yes, yes, he’s a firstborn son,” Dad looks to you, “It was in the letter!”

“I am,” Laios’ foot taps beneath the table. Again glancing at you for further prompting.

“We’re not moving from The Island anytime soon,” you return Laios’ previous hand-squeeze, hoping to ease his nerves. You sit up straight, “We want to keep exploring the dungeon.”

“Yes, but after that?” Dad’s eyes are wet with concern and dread, “You’ll have to settle down eventually.”

“We’ll be fine, Dad. I’m fine living like this, I’ve had lots of fun -- I want to keep having fun. I’m excited to marry Laios, and he’s excited to marry me,” to add to your point, Laios nods enthusiastically, “I’m happy marrying for love, and I don’t care what it implies about me as your child.”

Meeting Laios was like striking gold. He’s different from anybody you grew up with, and you’re content to be with him as you continue to grow old.

“If you’re sure,” Mom lays a hand on your father’s back, as if to wrangle a dog before it bites, “Just visit more often, okay?” she catches how Laios perks up at the mention of more traveling, “And bring Laios, too. He’s very… interesting…”

You know. That’s why you courted (suffered) him for actual years.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

A Step Towards Him

Part Two of Betrayal. Or how meeting Gothams Vigilantes leads you to look for your ex. Does it count as a Fix-it fic if it's my own work? I do not follow the canon timeline in this. ~2.8k words

The world changes for you after that night, after finding out your boyfriend is a crime lord. And not just any crime lord. Gotham's biggest. It shatters you. You take some time off of work, request to be transferred off the case. Gordan gives you strange, worried looks over it, but doesn't ask. It makes you want to hide in your office and sob.

The world changes around you too. You try to ignore the reports about Red Hood, but you can't. Not when helicopters catch footage of him confronting Batman. Not when he's sighted entering an abandoned building before it explodes. (No, you don't throw up when you hear the news. Or let out uncontrollable sobs in the bed that he used to share.) Not when he comes back as some sort of vigilante, a protector of crime alley. (No, you don't drop to your knees in relief in front of the television.)

Your life finds some rhythm of normal. You go to work. You cook dinner alone. You curl under your comforter. You convince yourself the bed doesn't feel empty. That life is normal. Except some things aren't. 

It starts with Nightwing. He drops down next to you when you're picking through an active crime scene. It doesn't set off any warning bells at first, the Bats always seem to be where they're needed. Then he speaks.

"So, you and Red Hood?" He asks, voice light and teasing.

You nearly jump out of your skin to look at him wide eyed, before your head whips around to see if anyone's heard. They haven't, the crime scene is empty save for the two of you. You turn back to him, hackles raised and eyes narrowed. "How do you–"

He shrugs, smiling easily like he's not dragging the shattered pieces of your heart across the coals. "Found out by accident."

"Well, we aren't together anymore." You huff, averting your gaze from him and back to the crime scene. You know he's analyzing you, even under his relaxed demeanor. You're just not sure what he's looking for. 

"That's a shame." Nightwing chirps, spinning the sticks in his hands you know are equipped with enough electricity to bring down a rhino. 

You can't help the wince you make at that. "Why?"

"It seems like he really liked you." 

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, a mannerism he definitely sees. You know Jason– Red Hood liked you. He used to say all that and more against your skin when he thought you were sleeping. (You don't relive that memory when everything's heavy and your stomach twists and you need something good.) "It's in the past." You answer instead. 

He opens his mouth to answer, but you never hear what he wanted to say. The sound of lab techs arriving at the crime scene draws your attention. By the time you turn back to him, he's already gone. You shake your head, trying not to read into the vigilantes' words. Damn Bats.

There's a kid in your office. Not just any kid. Red Robin. Ok, sure, he's not exactly a child, but he's definitely a teenager and definitely should not be sitting at your desk, in your office, and typing on your computer.

"Um, hello, Red Robin. Is there something I can do for you...?" You ask, lingering in the middle of the room. 

He looks up, turning your computer slightly towards you. You step closer to look. "Have you thought about using this cipher here?"

You glance over the screen. Huh. He's right. That code had been troubling you for a week. Leave it to a Bat to get it done in a day. "Oh. Thanks, that's pretty impressive work."

He grins at you and sits back in your seat. "That means you have some free time to talk to me?"

You eye him wearily, remembering your encounter with Nightwing. "I– yeah. Sure. Of course I do."

"Great!" He practically lights up and starts rambling. "Did you know Red Hood has a direct comlink to the batcave? And he saved that family from the Park Row explosion last week. Did you know he likes to read? He's kind of a nerd but–"

"Woah, woah, hey." You cut him off. "Look, I heard about the rescue and I know about the– uh, reading stuff, okay? What's this about?" He studies you, he can probably read your emotions better than you know them yourself. He probably knows exactly what you're feeling about Red Hood.

He smiles wider at you, like he's found what he was looking for, and stands up, almost bouncing to the window. "No reason. Just wanted you to know." He's launched his grappling hook and is out of sight before you can get another word in.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. Bats.

You're almost expecting it when you find yourself in the presence of the next vigilante. Sitting alone in an unmarked car, the most boring stakeout of your life isn't so boring anymore when Batgirl drops herself onto the hood of your car. You only embarrass yourself a little bit by yelping, spilling what's left of your coffee on the dashboard. She's at the door and tugging the handle by the time you've frantically wiped down the lukewarm liquid off the car. 

You unlock the door. If you didn't know better you would have said the stitches in her mask turned upward. 

She slides into the passenger seat.

It's quiet for a long time. So long you actually start to get comfortable with her being in the car with you. 

"Brother."

Your gaze snaps to her. "What?"

"Tries." 

You blink at her. She's already leaving the car as gracefully as she entered it. Okay. Okay. Definitely nothing to read into there. There's no way she was talking about him. Jason– 'no' you correct yourself– Red Hood is definitely not related to Batgirl and he's definitely not anything else she says he is. 

Work was particularly long today, your shoulders ache, your head is pounding. It's a relief when you finally open the door to your apartment.

"I understand why Todd likes you so much."

"Motherfu–" You half shout, reaching for the baseball bat by the door before you stop short, gaze settling on Robin, who seemed to have made himself comfortable in your home. 

He waves a picture at you, one with you and Jason together, the one you took during a date to Gothams botanical garden. The one you know you had tucked away under your bed. 

You exhale heavily, far too tired to find the energy to scold the kid and lecture him about boundaries. "What are you doing here, Robin?"

"I am here to join the others in their endeavors to reconnect you and Todd."

You tense, jaw dropping a little before you can gather yourself. "No one's doing that."

He places the picture carefully down on the counter. "Of course they are. You're good for Todd. And he asked for you when he was coming out of the fear toxin hallucinations. That shows trust."

"He what?" You ask, voice pitched and startled.

"He asked for you." Robin responds, voice steady and factual. "You didn't know?"

You shake your head, thoughts racing. 

"Oh." He looks unsure, you've never seen any of the Bats look unsure, it snaps you out of your spiraling. "Perhaps, don't mention I told you?"

"Course, Robin. I won't." You answer, and you're relieved when your voice doesn't shake.

He nods, like he expected that answer, but you're not sure if he did. 

"Can I get you anything?" You ask and he actually looks surprised. 

"No. I need to return to patrol. Technically my route doesn't cover this area."

"Oh?" You prompt, unable to keep yourself from prying. "Whose does?"

He scoffs like it's obvious on his way out your window. 

Despite your exhaustion, sleep doesn't come easily that night.

Your final straw is Batman, because of course it is. 

Gordan had handed you a stack of files. "Detective, I need you to take this to the roof, I have the mayor waiting in my office to hear more about the Freeze situation." He rolls his eyes, dark circles and lack of sleep evident on his eyes. "Though he should know by now hounding my officers won't change anything."

"Sir," You start, "can Montoya do it?"

He gives you a pitying look. "Sorry, Detective. Montoya's in archives. You're the only one I can trust with this."

That's how you ended up on the roof of the GCPD precinct. 

"Detective." A low, distinct voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin, even if you knew he was coming. 

You whip around, only relaxing when your gaze settles on Gothams Dark Knight. You silently offer him the files. He takes them, but doesn't look at them, watching you instead. Analyzing you. Studying. It's starting to get nerve wracking being judged by every vigilante Gotham has to offer.

"I know you and Red Hood–"

"Please don't." You cut him off with more bravery than you knew you had.

He doesn't. You look away. But the time you've found the courage to turn back, he's gone. 

You're walking through crime alley, alone, at night, just a few days later. You're not completely sure what your plan is, what you want out of this. But settling whatever is lingering between you and Jason is worth the danger. 

But, danger never finds you. You don't make it two minutes into crime alley before the sound of boots hitting the ground behind you reaches your ears. You know it's him. You know he could have done that soundlessly, but he let you hear him. It steadies some of the unease in your chest.

"What are you doing here?" His voice sounds robotic through the voice modulator, but his shoulders are stiff, body tense, when you turn to face him. You notice his fingers twitch towards you, that soothes another ache in your chest. 

"I wanted to talk to you." You say slowly, carefully. It feels more daunting now that you're here, in his element. 

He looks around. "It's too open."

You follow his gaze, the streets seem empty, but you know Gotham well enough that the shadows have ears. "Then where?"

He considers you for a moment. "The roof. Can I– can I carry you? Just to get us to the roof faster. Or I could drop a fire escape for you?"

"Oh. Um, sure, I don't mind you carrying me. How do you plan on getting us up there, exactly?" You ask, voice pitching slightly at the thought of being close to him again.

He holds up something you recognize as a grappling gun as he steps to your side, hooking an arm around you and firmly tugging you against him. "Hold on."

You wrap your arms around his neck and air is flying past your ears before you've even realized your feet have left the ground. 

He lets go of you slowly once you're both settled on the roof, hand lingering at your waist to make sure you don't fall over. "Good?"

"Good." You echo, and he reluctantly moves to give you space. 

"So, why are you putting yourself in danger just to talk to me? You know these streets aren't safe." He crosses his arms over his chest, it would seem defensive if you didn't recognize the stiffness in his shoulders, like he's bracing for the worst. You wish you could see behind his mask.

"I– could you talk to your family? They keep coming to see me and I think they have the wrong idea." You tell him, voice careful and even.

"Wait, wait. My family?" His arms drop to his side, confusion apparent even through the modulator his helmet.

"Yes? Some of the other vigilantes came to see me a few times–" 

He curses softly, shifting and clenching his fists. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. They shouldn't have done that."

You falter, "I didn't mean it in a bad way."

He sighs heavily, like he's carrying all of life's burdens as he unclenches his fists. "I know. It's not you I'm mad at." He shifts his weight, unsure. "It's just– you should have meant it. I'm not good."

You straighten out, upset he would even consider himself that after how much he's changed, tried to be good, succeeded at being good. You'll never admit it, but you can't help but follow every story about him, every tiny detail about what he does. "That's not true. I'm the one that's not good."

He levels you with look. "Don't act like I don't know you. You are good. You wouldn't have given up running my case if you weren't. You could have run me out of Gotham."

"You know about that?" You ask softly.

"No shit, I know about it. I know you." He says it like it's a fact, a universal truth. 

"But I– I broke up with you. Without really listening. I didn't try to understand." You protest, because with all the bad he's ever done, the good he's done– the fact that he's trying– outweighs it all.

He tilts his helmet towards you. "Because Iied to you. I was using you."

"You said you stopped that."

"I did." He answers, firm and resolute, then sighs out your name. "But I still did that to you, I still hurt you." He pauses, "Look, I'll talk to the others. They won't bother you again, okay? Just– Let me take you home."

"I don't want to go home." You step closer to him. You've decided what you want.

He seems to freeze at the movement. "You don't want to go home?" He repeats slowly, carefully like the words don't make sense to him.

"Red Hood– Jason. I'd like– I miss you, okay? I miss waking up next to you, I miss making dumb jokes with you when we cook, I miss cuddling with you while we make fun of movies together. I want to– I want to try again. If you'd let me."

"If I'd let you?" He echoes your words again. It makes your face fall, how stoic he seems. Then, his mask is clattering against the roof, his gloves tugged off and dropped haphazardly so he can cup your face with his hands. He leans his forehead against yours, and breathes out your name. "I'd let you take anything you wanted from me."

You grab his wrists, intent on keeping him close after so long apart, as your heart races, your breath catches and everything centers on him. Your eyes dart over his face, trying to see the truth in his eyes. 

"I mean it. If all you ever wanted from me was friendship, just someone to keep your bed warm at night, or something more. I'd give that to you." His eyes dart over your face in return, wanting to make sure you understand his words, his feelings for you. 

"I want more. I want you." You say quickly, because he needs to know he's important to you. That he matters to you and what he does as Red Hood didn't and can't change that. 

He lets out a breathless laugh and kisses you. It sets your nerves on end and for the first time since you told him you didn't want to see him, you feel grounded. You kiss him back, hands leaving his wrists to grab the leather of his jacket and draw him closer. 

He only pulls away when you're both gasping for air. "I know I have a lot to make up for–."

"So do I." You cut off.

"Then maybe we're even, yeah? A fresh start." He says softly, tracing the curve of your jaw with his thumb.

You smile and tilt your head up to kiss him again, sweet and lazy before leaning back. "I'd like that."

He's smiling when he kisses you again, and neither of you move to untangle yourselves until you hear whooping and cheering coming from the rooftop across the street.

It's been a few weeks since then. And your relationship is good, better than before, if that's even possible. You're picking over snacks in the grocery store with Jason when an elderly, but alert looking man walks up to the two of you. 

"Ah, I see this is your partner you've been trying to hide from us?" 

Jason straightens out, "Alfred? What are you– uh, yes. Yes. This is them." 

You grin, pulling your fingers from Jason's to reach out and shake Alfred's hand, offering him your name as you do. 

Alfred's eyes seem to twinkle and he nods approvingly as he introduces himself. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. You're welcome to dinner any night, I know the others are eager to officially meet you."

Jason groans a little, and he rests his hand against the small of your back. "We'll think about it, Alfred."

Alfred smiles knowingly at you, "Of course. Take your time."

And as you lean into Jason's side, you have a feeling you'll be making it to that dinner sooner rather than later. 

A Side Story

[yandere-sins]

Kicking my feet and twirling my hair at your yandere König and Ghost headcanons💕 could I request some headcanons on how they'd react at escape attempts/successful escapes please?

Of course! Thanks for requesting! ♥

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

König

♡ One word: panic. It's not a slowly developing feeling, either. When he can't find you in your room, his stomach twists as he waltzes into the bathroom instead. At this point, his pulse begins ringing in his ears, and his breaths come out as slow pushes of air. König realizes how wrong his home feels, how there's no sign of you there, and the panic that overcomes him is just about to explode like a grenade on the battlefield—it builds up and then peng! It's too quiet, too cold, and the thought of you having left is one of pure horror. If anyone would measure his tension, his body would break all means of detecting it, every muscle so taut they could snap at any given moment, and every one of his movements deliberate and deadly. König tries to think about what he's done wrong and why you'd do this to him, but he manages to push these thoughts aside for later. He needs to focus, needs to keep his wits up. Part of him hopes you didn't leave him because you wanted to. Another part hopes very much that you weren't forced to leave him just to spare you from the horrors that you could possibly encounter because of that. Then again, if someone was as bold as to kidnap you, König would at least have an outlet for all the rage, frustration, and madness he is feeling; the thought of breaking some bones suddenly so tempting.

♡ And yet, König is never more in control than in moments like this. Despite his panic and anxiety about losing you, he could never concentrate better than now that he has to get you back. And he has to; he needs to. Needs you. His life is meaningless without you in it, and he needs to cradle you in his arms and know you're okay just so he can fucking breathe again. He has his means of finding out where you are and is not shy about using them. You'll come to dread the day you got stalked by someone so big and tall that it should have been impossible. But once he's behind you, your escape is over, and with it, any other possibility that you'll ever be able to try again. If he has to put you in an underground bunker, tied up and unable to do anything without him, then so be it. But König can't lose you again. He might as well die if you ever manage to get away. Ultimately, it will be his tense, unyielding hands dragging you back, even as he coos sweet promises into your ear. That everything will be okay now, that he'll protect you. But he'll be much more possessive and needy after your attempt, and you only have yourself to blame for what he's going to do with you once he has you back in the safety of his arms.

Ghost

♡ Physically, you might already be far, far away from Ghost. Yet, you can still feel his disappointment and hear him sigh, even if it's all just subconsciously. There's something especially bitter about the fact he went out to get you some nice food you like, thinking about how much he'll enjoy watching you eat it on his way back and imaging the taste on your lips as he steals kisses from you, only to come back to this. Nothing. Emptiness and the remains of his heart getting shredded by explosive bangs of heartache. He thought things were improving between you two, but that escape was on him. He shouldn't have trusted you quite this much, though it really fucking hurts that you did it. He's been good to you, hasn't he? Loved you well, fucked you well, spent all his damn money to make you comfortable. You can run all you want, but you can't deny the few times you leaned in for a cuddle—even if it was subconsciously—or asked him for something, and he got it for you without thinking twice. You might think running is the right option, but are you even aware of what you're running away from? By all means, he was a perfect partner (aside from forcing you into this relationship, but it was for the greater good of you both being together). And yet, you'd betray him like this. Run away when things get rough. When they aren't up to your standards. Ghost must have spoiled you rotten, eh? Pity because he won't make the same mistakes twice.

♡ Ghost doesn't need anyone or anything to track you down. He might have a tracker on you, part of him always admiring your rebellious nature and knowing the day would come, but he knows you. He knows you too well. He studied your thoughts like no one else, perhaps knowing even better than you what you're thinking. And though he's gripping the steering wheel of the car he's using to catch up to you, to the point of either his fingers or the material they're wrapped around cracking, when he does find you, he's eerily calm. He knew the way you'd run, knew which bushes you'd hide behind, and now that he caught up, you really have no choice but to surrender. Ghost wouldn't let you win in a fight on his good days, much less days ruined by your idiocity. So you can choose to get in defeatedly or have him drag you into the car with no guarantee he won't hurt you. It's not like your tears leave him cold. The dead look on your face or how you jerk when he brushes your hair back, feeling like ice picks stabbed into his heart. He hates arguing with you. He hates being angry with you. It's on you this time, though. But at least, if you're cooperative, the only way he'll let you know how mad he is, is by holding your thigh in his hand on the drive, gripping it painfully rigid as he drives you two back, thinking about whether or not to break your leg as a lesson. No promises on if he will act on these thoughts, though—you really messed up this time and deserve the lesson, don't you? Better start appeasing him before you get home, and he gets to have you all to himself again, just like he always wanted.

[devilfic]

❝late-bloomer❞

plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.

a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha

Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"

You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.

You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."

No matter how many times he tells you this, you can't remember the day you'd been so bold as to plant one right on Peter Parker's lips. You felt like you'd remember that, but you'd been such an impulsive child back them. Bolder. Thicker-skinned.

But Peter remembers, and so does Aunt May who swears up and down that she'd caught it on camera ("If only I could find that damned photo album"). You're the only one who doesn't. It's like it never happened, "No, God... no. I mean like your first real kiss."

"Like with tongue?" You hear the humor in his voice and even your sullen mood doesn't stop you from smacking his knee. "I dunno what you're talking about. That kiss was real to me."

"I'm serious, Pete."

He hums. You're so, so tempted to look back and see what he's thinking, but it would give you away too easily. "It was... it was a kiss. I mean, Gwen- you know. You know. I was crazy about her. I didn't think I just... kissed her."

"How did it feel? Do you know?"

"I felt like I needed to do it. I felt like if I didn't, I'd throw up. Not actually, just... like I'd explode with all the feelings I had for her."

Your finger hovers over a tweet. In your wondering about that feeling of almost nearly exploding, you try to picture that rooftop kiss that Peter had relayed to you between classes, with hushed whispers and childish laughter. It was windy, and I was breathless, he'd said, and I wanted to lay myself bare. And I just... pulled her in. Shot a web and swept her up and kissed her. I think I've lost my mind. You remembered pressing your back against the school lockers to cool yourself as you imagined the scene, the steps it took for you to settle the uneasy churn in the pit of your chest. The euphoria and panic upon realizing that your Peter was growing up.

You felt overwhelmed just imagining it. You barely hear Peter ask why you want to know. "No reason. Was just curious."

You think that Peter accepts that as good enough reason because the room is silent again. You keep scrolling, keep taking subtle deep breaths to keep the tears at bay. You see a picture of a couple on your timeline and scroll faster.

A few minutes of peace pass before Peter broaches the subject again, "What about you?"

"Hm?"

"I don't think you've ever told me about your first kiss."

Your shoulders tense. No good effort hides the strain in your voice, "I haven't?"

A beat passes. You glance over your shoulder and see Peter staring right at you, his lips upturned in a small, resting smile, but his eyes are inquiring. He's trying to read you. Perhaps he's just noticed the heavy cloud hanging overhead. "Nope." He pops the "P". He's waiting.

You could lie. You could say it was Flash Thompson who stole it, mention that field trip to the zoo in middle school when he'd sneaked next to you at the peacock exhibit and pestered you about you and Peter. Peter wouldn't question Flash about it. Even if they'd made amends, any conversation about him would send him over the edge with memories of his childhood bully and how much he pitied you for having your first kiss with him. And all of you were far too old now; Flash Thompson had gone to another state to play football the minute he got his diploma. It'd be so inconsequential, such an easy lie.

But the longer it takes you to deliberate on it, the worse it makes you look. You should've offered up an answer easily, jovially, unbothered. It should be inconsequential. Anything more and Peter would call your bluff because he knew you better than you knew yourself sometimes.

At some point, you feel the brush of a lone finger at the base of your spine and it startles you. Peter's slipped his finger under your shirt, stroking along the middle of your back, "I won't laugh. If that's what you're thinking." He says softly.

Of course Peter wouldn't laugh at you. As much as your relationship was teasing, he knew where you were tender.

But it wasn't laughing you worried about.

"I know." You say, in lieu of a real answer. You fear you've given yourself away.

Now there are two fingers stroking your skin, "You don't... you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to," but you can hear the discomfort in his voice when he says it, like the thought that it's something you don't want to tell him concerns him, "it's up to you."

Just lie. Your breath shudders and immediately you regret it. There's no way he hadn't heard that.

Before you can recover, you're feeling the heat of his entire hand on your back now as it slips further up, as he sits up in bed beside you and rests his chin on your shoulder. The closeness of his breath makes you feel claustrophobic all of a sudden, "Hey, hey. I'm sorry. Did I push? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

You struggle to shake your head, but now your eyes are burning again and you don't think you can stop the tears this time, "You didn't." You insist.

"You're crying, bub," he laughs (not mockingly, never mockingly, never when you cry) and reaches a thumb up to brush away the first warm tear, "what's wrong?"

There's a million things you could say. I've never been kissed before, I don't know what it feels like to be longed for like that, I want to be longed for like that, why haven't I been longed for like that? But it all feels so heavy. Peter picks his chin up to kiss your shoulder and that really does it, "It never happened."

Peter's lips still against your skin. Their warmth slowly peels away, though you feel his breath ghost over the curve of your bone, "What hasn't?"

"A kiss. A first kiss, Peter. I've never had one."

"That's..." Peter sounds almost shocked, disbelieving. He never picks up that thought.

You turn your head away and toss your phone onto the bed, no longer interested in pretending you could distract yourself with anything else. You try to shrug your shoulder out from underneath Peter's mouth but he's quick, the hand at your back locking around you and you can't escape him even though you want to, even though you need to get away from his sweet smile and lovely heartbeat that thuds a little faster against your side.

It was already so much to tell him you hadn't had your first kiss yet, to admit to your best friend who—despite popular Midtown High opinion—has always been so irresistible to lovers, that you haven't gone as far as something so... simple. Something teenagers running your old stomping grounds have probably experienced ten times over by now. You don't think you can handle his pity too, "Peter, please."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone moves at their own pace."

You hiss through your teeth. You don't mean to, but the spite overwhelms you like red hot heat for a minute, "It's easy to say that when you've done it already."

You catch Peter's eye and immediately regret it. His untamed brows are drawn together, expression more analyzing than pitying. Even though you're brimming with feelings, he seems as if he's trying to wade through them, search for the gnarled root at the center of it all.

Then, and he says this so carefully that the meaning takes a moment to catch up with you, "There's nothing wrong with you."

It's the sincerity that does it. You shove his hand off of you, jerk away from him in a scramble to stand, but Peter is fast and lithe and he's always been two steps ahead of you even before the bite. He's up on his feet before even you are, coming to stand in your way when you go to grab for your bag, "Peter, move."

"Look, can we... can we talk about this?"

"I really don't want to. Move."

"Why are you shutting me out?"

"Because I want to go home. Move."

"Is it because of what I said?"

"Yes!" You blurt, growing frustrated the longer he blocks your path, "yes. Because I'm sick of being told there's nothing wrong with me when clearly..." Your voice tapers off, afraid to give him the reason he needs to worry about you, "Please. I'm just tired. It'll go away on its own, it always does, I just can't be here right now."

The standoff between you two lingers, feels like you might have to fight him just to escape. It takes everything in you just to keep eye contact with him and not burst into tears.

Peter clearly doesn't want to let you go. You can see that genius brain of his running every possible scenario in his mind in which he convinces you to stay, cry it out, leave happier than you came. None of them come soon enough. You brush past him when he realizes he's got nothing, and even the hand that grabs for you is halfhearted, shrugged off with little force.

"I'll see you later, Pete."

You let his front door shut on its own.

It hasn't been great.

What typically took a few hours to shake off had settled over you like a dark cloud ever since you'd stormed out of Peter's place. Even though you texted him like everything was fine (and dodged any phone calls so he wouldn't hear the truth with those freakishly good best friend senses of his), you had yet to see him again. Had yet to let yourself be seen.

You told yourself that it was just you missing Peter, and you believed that to be true, but you also believed that when he looked you in the eye and told you "there's nothing wrong with you", you hadn't been prepared for the nakedness of it all. He'd dug deep, right to the source. That kind of thing was hard to move past.

So you avoided him. If he came by your place, you pretended you weren't home. If he showed up at your work to take you to coffee, you lied and told him you had plans with a coworker. It had been several days now and you felt more and more cowardly by the minute.

It was Peter. Of all people, it was Peter. Your best friend. You could tell him anything (most things, some kept a little closer to the heart). You should be able to.

And it was silly. Being embarrassed about not kissing anyone. Plenty of people were in the same boat as you and they didn't ice their best friend out about it.

Ugh, now you were just making yourself feel worse.

You'd had enough. You'd end this pity party today. As you make your way through your apartment door, you promise yourself that after you've showered, after you've made yourself a filling dinner, after you've settled into bed, you'd call Peter and ask him to meet for pizza this weekend. You'd talk like civil adults who understand that life isn't a race. You'd share your couch, laugh about the whole thing, and maybe, just maybe, the hollowness in your chest that longed for someone's desire to fill it would finally-

He's sitting in your kitchen.

Legs dangling off the island, mask rolled up to his nose, and a spoon clattering out of his mouth and into a bowl of ice cream. Your front door shuts gently behind you.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then you glance through your bedroom door, cracked open just enough for you to see the breeze rustling your curtains. You turn back to Peter, who's cleaning off his bottom lip of raspberry sorbet. "Did you climb through the window? You have a key."

Peter sets the bowl down beside him, shrugs, "You weren't returning my calls."

Your shoulders sag and you drop your things to the floor, "Peter-"

"No, no," you watch him slide off the countertop and bounce over to you, and the nearness you aren't prepared for makes you back away an inch or two, "No Peter. I'm not Peter. I'm Spider-Man. See?" He gestures to the suit.

You reach your hand up and pinch his exposed cheek, then narrowly avoid his teeth before he tries to nip you, "I'm not in the mood. I said I'd call you later, I'm just... busy."

"Busy avoiding your best friend."

You can feel him trail after you as you walk away, beginning to undress. He catches your coat when you throw it toward the couch and hangs it up all neat on a hook. He kicks your shoes to a wall and tugs your belt from your fingertips once you've undone it. Then, unexpectedly, he hooks said belt around your waist and yanks you back to face him.

The momentum throws you fully into his chest but he's sturdy, unmoving as you grip his shoulders and give him the most hostile look you can muster. You attempt to wiggle out of the trap but he pulls the belt tighter, forcing you closer, and then you start to panic as the space between you both disappears, "I haven't been avoiding you, I just needed space." You quickly explain.

"And I get that," he admits, "but you scared me. I've never seen you like that before. Not with me. Not ever."

Of course he hadn't. It was why you kept all of this a secret in the first place. Because you knew he'd worry, and you knew that there would be nothing he could do to fix it. Not like he usually could.

"It was a... brief lapse in self-esteem. That's all. You're making it into a bigger deal than it should be."

"It's not a big deal?"

"No! That's what I keep trying to tell you."

"So it doesn't matter at all."

"Correct."

"Right."

"It's just an arbitrary milestone that means nothing." You grip the leather of your belt but you're nothing against his superhuman strength. Pleading with your eyes, you do your best not to slip back into that vulnerable place all over again. Peter made you feel safe to do that. Way too safe to do that. "I promise. I'm not avoiding you."

You get sick of staring into the whites of his mask and so you grab the edge of it and pull it up to his hairline, little tufts of curls poking out as his face is fully revealed to you. You stare into those sharp, probing eyes of his, forcing yourself to stand the test of Peter Parker's perception.

Suddenly, you're released.

You stumble back a bit, the belt clanking against the floor, as Peter throws his arms up in defeat, "Alright, alright. I get it. I should've let you breathe the other night. I was just worried, is all."

You smile, "And I appreciate that."

Peter quickly glances at you and then away, making an exaggerated show of kicking imaginary dust off the floor. "First kisses really mean nothing then, huh?"

"Zilch. Nada."

"So... doesn't matter when it is, who it is..."

You watch him carefully, "If this is about when we were six-"

"No, no, I know that didn't count. You don't even remember it," his face contorts in a wince, "I was just thinking. Something."

Your eyes narrow, "Uh-huh."

"Well, I mean, is that why? Because you don't remember it? Or... is it because it was me?"

"The kiss?" Peter blows a raspberry, looking more bashful by the second, and nods without looking at you. "It's... it's because we were six. And we didn't know what we were doing. I was just mimicking what we saw. We didn't know anything."

"And now we do."

"Yeah. What are you getting at, Pete?"

He sits on the back of your couch and kicks his feet out in front of him. "If all that matters is that we both know what we're doing, and a first kiss is just a meaningless milestone to you, then I thought that maybe we could give it another go. You know. So when a real kiss comes along that actually means something, you'll have an idea of how it's supposed to go."

You're six years old again.

You and Peter Parker are sitting in the dirt, mouths covered in sticky ice cream that the summer sun melted right up. You're both talking about Flash Thompson's trip to Florida and the hilarious sunburn he came back with when you spot an elderly couple across the park, pressing their mouths together over and over.

You're looking over at Peter and asking about it, sure it couldn't possibly feel good, and he's telling you that when Uncle Ben kisses May good morning in the kitchen he always looks away because it's gross.

And you're thinking... you start thinking something.

You're thinking it would be funny—that Peter would hate you for it, but you're just so curious—and you're pressing your lips to his so quickly that he doesn't get a chance to pull back before you're giggling in the grass. And May's voice flutters in the background, a shrill and delighted, "I caught that!" that makes you both turn tail and run toward the swings.

Peter's still staring at you, waiting.

Part of you feels like it's pity. Like he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself. Like he doesn't know how else to fix it, because he has to fix it. He has to fix everything. He has to be your hero.

But the other part? A restless and selfish part wants to take it; it's curious.

You take a step forward, the two of you watching each other, waiting to see if the other might back out at the last second. He stays exactly where he is, legs parting slowly, and the silent invitation makes you feel hot under the collar.

When you're standing between them, you feel his knees bump your legs on either side, his hands planted firmly into the couch cushions. You notice the grip he has on them, "Are you sure?" You pause.

Peter tilts his head in that strange, spider-like way. As if he cannot fathom why would you ask such a thing, "Of course. I'm the one who offered."

Your hands shake as they consider where to put themselves, and you get about halfway to his shoulders before he takes them and places them on either side of his face, mumbling something about how it might help you feel more in control, quell your nerves a bit.

Peter's cheeks feel so warm in your hands, and you can feel each swallow he makes the longer you take in his expression. "Should... I move in first? Or..."

He laughs, short and high-pitched, "I guess I can go first."

You know you're supposed to close your eyes, but as he comes in close, you can't help but keep them lidded, taking in every twitch of his mouth as he inclines his neck, shuts his eyes, and kisses you.

Your brain reacts a half-second after his lips touch yours. You've probably stopped breathing, and you have to force your lips to unstiffen so that you could actually feel him. His lips are a little wet—he'd been rolling his bottom lip between his teeth since he'd sat down—and they taste faintly of raspberry. They're not cold though, and the feeling isn't unpleasant.

You don't know how to react to it, don't know if you should move or not, and so instead you curl your fingers into the silk of his nape and wait for the pounding in your chest to stop.

You feel him mouth at your bottom lip just once, and then pull back. "How'd that feel?"

You recall the sensations that went through your brain (all that it can recall anyway, when Peter's looking at you like that), "Slimy...?"

Peter's face falls, and then he bursts into laughter, shakes with the force of it, and drops his head on your shoulder. "There's got to be a better word than that."

"I don't know! I was just thinking about the feeling."

"I don't want to know what it felt like, I want to know how it made you feel. Did you like it? Hate it?"

"I don't know. I'm- I'm nervous."

"Hey, that's okay," his hand rubs your hip, warming the skin there, and you find yourself leaning into it for comfort, "everyone is their first time."

Peter is so, so gentle. Your heart feels like it might give out, but a little less now that it's over and he's not looking at you in disgust. You don't know what you expected, but... this was better. By far. That part of you that felt selfish takes over again, "Can we try again?"

His eyes widen a bit, but he's immediately nodding, "Okay. Yeah. Okay. We can try as- as many times as you want."

You nearly choke on your spit. "Can we?" Your voice comes out a meek whisper.

Peter nods. He brings his legs in so that he's sitting properly now. "Of course. You wanna move me? I can sit somewhere else. Or you can sit if you want."

"No, I like you here," you say, feeling your stomach tighten when his thighs lock against your legs, "um. Is there anything I can work on? How did I feel?"

"Warm. Soft. Just try to loosen up, alright?"

You force yourself to release the tension in your body and move in first this time. Images of rom-com kisses flood your brain, how you memorized their rhythms and the placement of their mouths. You try your best to mimic it, make it feel as good as it seemed to look, when you feel one of Peter's hands slip behind your head and angle you away just a hair, "You're tensing up," he warns, making you pause, "it doesn't have to be perfect. It's just you and me. Breathe for me, okay? Turn your brain off."

You feel your stomach flip a bit, and nod along mindlessly. You try again.

This time, it feels a little different. Not wet or stiff, even if it is still awkward. It almost overwhelms you when, as you're mouthing at Peter's lip, he returns the favor, but you keep your brain empty. You can't focus on the details because it won't feel right. You can't focus on the way it looks because it won't feel right.

So you focus on Peter. You focus on the hand on your hip drawing you closer and the hand on your neck rubbing circles into the knot there. You focus on the feeling of his suit under your pinkies. You focus on the small hum he makes when, with quite a bit of building up to it, you pass your tongue over his.

Almost as soon as you do it, you pull back. Peter is flushed and it makes the beauty marks on his skin stand out more. His eyelashes flutter, a half-smile on his lips that are kissed red. By you.

You open your mouth to ask but he beats you to it, "I think you've got it now... yeah. Definitely." You're so relieved you sigh, sagging away from him, but he catches your hands before they can can leave his face completely and holds them in his lap. You don't dare move them. "How about you? Did you like it?"

You nod, speechless.

Peter laughs and squeezes your hands in his, "Okay, good. Good. I love you, you know? I know it doesn't... replace what you're looking for, but you're wonderful. You're insane and funny and stunning and there's nothing wrong... you know? You're perfect. Take it from your loser best friend who had to get bit by a radioactive spider to get to first base."

You snort, "I mean, if that's all it takes..."

Peter shakes his head and stands, but his hand remains on your neck as you follow his eyes to his full height, "So, we good? No more ignoring me?" You bite your lip, nodding your head. Peter smiles. "Good, cause I'm starving and I need you to split a pizza with me."

"You just polished off a tub of ice cream and you're still hungry?"

"I'm a growing spider, honey. And I missed you." Without warning, the hand on your hip hooks around your back and hoists you into his body, throwing you off balance once more, "I'll swing us there and cover cheese sticks too. Sound good?"

You know you don't have much room to argue when he's being so generous. And not when he's beaming at you, so genuinely relieved to have you back that it would knock you off your feet if he wasn't holding you up.

He was right; this wouldn't replace what you were looking for, but it gets pretty damn close. Closer than you expected, actually. But it's just the adrenaline. This didn't change anything.

Did it? You stare up at Peter.

"We can try as many times as you want."

You might have a very different problem than you started with.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

[noproofread]

The Captain's Brother (NSFW)

"Take me for one last ride, I'm out of my head tonight. The sound of the waves collide."

aaaah the deftones...

been in a tough writers block for a couple months but this deftones song brought me back to life.

Ace x afab!reader (no pronouns, feminine traits).

straw hat reader. Ace is hitching a ride with the straw hats, reader tries to avoid him. dom ace (kinda sorta), smut with feelings lol, unprotected sex (whoops), light praise.

word count: 1,434

masterlist here

The Going Merry rocked as the waves moved under the boat. Droplets of water touched your skin as you breathed in the fresh air, watching the blue horizon. You felt a light tap on your shoulder, prompting you to turn. “Need some company?” The orange hat-wearing pirate spoke, smiling slightly as he looked at you. “Don’t mind it.” You replied, turning back to your meditative view. Luffy had introduced him as his brother Ace, although you knew him as Whitebeard’s 2nd division commander “Fire Fist” Ace. You never imagined having a casual conversation with him, but then again you never imagined you’d be sailing with a pirate from the Worst Generation.

“Not a huge talker huh?” Ace attempted to make conversation with you. Admittedly, you were introverted. Not the best thing to be when you’re a pirate but you thrived more behind the scenes instead of front line combat anyway. “Not much to say.” You shrugged. “What? You don’t like me?” He pouted, trying to make you laugh. It got a chuckle out of you. “I’m just a person with few words, Cowboy. My mom always told me I was prettier when I was quiet.” You laughed softly, your eyes glued to the sea moving below. “Well I disagree with your mom.” You could feel Ace’s eyes on you. Fighting the urge to look at him, you waited in silence to hear his reasoning. “I bet you’re pretty when you’re loud.”

You felt your face heat up, surely radiating red from his comment. You immediately found alternate meanings to his words. Loud as in talking, laughing. That’s what he means. You told yourself to rid yourself of any lewd thoughts that had catapulted themselves from the back of your subconscious. Ace laughed loudly. You impulsively smacked the back of his hat. Hitting was your way of flirting, you didn’t know what else to do. Ace fixed his hat and smiled at you. You found yourself giggling and smiling with him. Sure, you thought he was attractive. But Ace was your captain’s brother and the last thing you wanted was to make the energy on the ship awkward. “I’m right, aren’t I?” He held your gaze, you couldn’t look away this time. “About what?” You asked innocently. Ace shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “Gonna make me work for it?” My, he’s bold. But what else could you expect from such a prolific pirate? You thought.

The eye contact between you felt more intense. The thumping of your heart grew louder within your ears. You bit your lip in nervousness. Ace smirked at you, taking one step closer towards you. It was the sound of Luffy’s blaring laugh that disrupted the thick tension forming in the air. Your head snapped in the direction of the cackling. “Is my brother more important?” Ace teased. You smiled, not looking at him. “He is my captain.” You said, earning a chuckle from him. “He wouldn’t mind if you spent a couple minutes entertaining his dear brother though. I should know; I’m the brother.” He reached out and grabbed your chin, making you look at him.

Your heart was beating so fast you thought it would explode. “All I want…” His voice had gone soft as he was now standing mere centimeters from you. “Is to see if I’m right.” His eyes trailed down to your lips as he licked his own. You mustered up the courage to speak. “Right about what?” Your voice came out barely a whisper. “That you’re pretty when you're loud.” The last words spoken in a hurry as he immediately kissed you. His hands traveled towards the small of your back, pulling you closer to him. You felt his body heat radiating as his lips moved with yours. The kiss grew more passionate and your arms had found their way around his neck. “Ugh, get a room. I want to sleep.” Zoro’s voice interrupted the heated moment, making the both of you break away. Ace laughed, his hands still holding on to you. Zoro sat on the floor, leaning against the railing of the Merry as he shooed you both away. Ace took your hand and sprinted towards whatever door was closest.

As soon as that door closed behind you his lips assaulted your neck, leaving a trail of messy kisses behind. You gasped at the contact of his lips against your skin. His hands caressed your arms as you felt him lightly lick and nip at your neck. “Ace” You whispered out, making him return to your eye level. He chuckled, his breath hitting the side of your neck. It made you shiver. You gazed into his eyes, your head spinning from the spontaneous act. The rush of endorphins and adrenaline flowing through your body. You reached up and grabbed his hat, taking it off and placing it onto your head. You saw Ace redden as you adjusted the hat on your head. He bit his lip before grabbing you by the waist.

Ace pulled you close, kissing you deeply before breaking away to look into your eyes. You felt hot, the air around was thick as you both breathed heavily. He gently lifted you off the ground before hoisting you up against a wall, placing himself between your legs. The position he put you in made your arousal dampen your underwear. You moaned softly as he kissed you, one hand roaming freely under your top. With every touch of his fingertips he left behind a trail of fire on your skin. You bucked your hips, signaling to him that you wanted him. The heat of the situation made you forget every excuse you ever had to not approach him. Nothing mattered anymore, you just wanted him.

Ace met your eyes, his pupils were dilated. You didn't need to speak, he understood what your gaze meant. He let you down, allowing the both of you to undress. You felt the cool breeze hit you as you removed your undergarments. Looking up to see Ace admiring your body. He sucked air between his teeth before ravishing you once again. His body flushed against yours. You hopped up, wrapping your legs around his waist. The position alone was enough for a groan of anticipation to escape your lips.

Ace smirked before whispering into your ear. “I’m going to enjoy testing my theory.” With one of his hands he aligned himself with your entrance. Your breath hitched as you felt him lowering you down onto him, his tip almost teasing you. You closed your eyes, focusing on the agonizingly slow feeling of him entering you. You pursed your lips to hold back your moans. “Tsk. Tsk. That won't do.” Ace scolded you, thrusting into you suddenly. “Fuck!” You mewl out. “That's more like it.” He growled, pushing himself deeper into you. He slammed into you, barely allowing you to catch a breath. All you could do was let out whatever noise came out of you. He filled you deliciously. You gripped onto his back, scratching it as he continued. You felt a knot tightening in your stomach. The air filled with lewd sounds from the two of you chasing your high. All you could do was scream out his name as you felt closer to the edge. You felt him twitch inside of you as he climaxed, filling you up with his hot sticky seed. The feeling of him collapsing into you sent you over. You clenched onto him as you rode out your high.

Panting filled the room. The two of you attempted to catch your breath. He pulled out of you, letting you down. Feeling just how wobbly your legs were as soon as your feet hit the ground. Ace caught you right before you fell. You let out a laugh as you found some stability on the rocking boat. You dressed yourself, convinced that the entire crew had heard you. If not everyone then surely Zoro, who was trying to sleep a couple feet away. You turned to give Ace his hat back. He shook his head. “Give it back before I leave. I want you to wear it for now. You look better in it anyway.” He winked, causing a light blush to wash over your cheeks. As you begin to walk out of the room you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you just outside. “I was right… You're pretty when you're loud.” Ace whispered behind you as he walked past you, leaving you to process his comment. You watched him look back at you. He smiled at you.

[mountttmase]

Not Your Fault

Note - i hope you’re all excited to meet the final bubba 🩷 a few guesses for the name were right but no one guessed the exact spelling 😂 I hope you love them as much as I do though and hopefully I’ll be able to write about them a bit more as we learn about their personality 😌 hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated 😘

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6k

Warnings - fluff, smut, tiny bit of angst

Putting the kids to bed with Mason was never an easy task. Mason putting the kids to bed on his own was a recipe for disaster but right now there wasn't much the pair of you could do.

You could hear Mason trying to wrangle your two babies as you sat with your third in the nursery. Ollie trying his hardest to help Mason tame Tilly as she ran riot and you knew Mason was about to explode. You wondered if you should get up to help but Ryley was feeding peacefully in your arms and you didn’t want to disturb him.

‘Welcome to the mad house baby’ you whispered, stroking your finger along his perfect nose all the way down to the end before awkwardly reaching down to kiss his head. ‘You’ll get used to Tills, she’s just excited about you being here’

And she really was.

Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine you’d get pregnant so quickly after agreeing to try again and after your first two pregnancies you thought you knew your body well enough now to know when something had changed. Clearly that wasn’t the case though and it was actually Mason who figured it out first that were pregnant with a little help from Nala.

The kids were at school and Mason came home to find you cuddled up with Nala on the sofa. Her head and paws on your tummy as you scratched her head but as soon as he tried to cuddle you, Nala wasn’t having it. Growling at him when he tried to put his arms around you and pushing him away with her nose.

‘What’s crawled up her arse and died’ Mason laughed. Trying to snake his hands around your middle but Nala would fight him off every time until he gave up and grabbed your boob instead.

‘Mason? Do you mind’

‘Take it up with her, she’s hogging you’ he huffed but you just let it slide. You knew Mason needed to be holding something and if it was your boob then you’d just have to get on with it as he wouldn’t move off. You didn’t think anything of it though, you just knew Nala was protective and after you’d been cuddling for a while she was feeling territorial.

It was two days later that Mason caught you crying in the utility room. Half buried under all of the kids washing and the look of concern on his face just made you cry even harder. You’d been trying to get ontop of the cleaning all day and it the point you just felt overwhelmed.

‘Hey, what’s wrong sweetheart?’ He asked as he helped you up but you didn’t really have an answer for him. Trying to quieten your sobs but you could feel your bottom lip still wobbling as he looked at you softly.

‘Sorry Mase, I don’t even know why I’m crying’ you laughed as he wiped your eyes for you. ‘I’m just a bit emotional at the moment’ you told him and by the small sigh you knew he had something he wanted to say so you raised your eyebrow at him in hopes he’d speak.

‘Baby, you don’t think you might be…’

‘Drowning in washing?’ You laughed but the soft look on his face made you be quiet. He looked genuinely concerned but there was also something behind his eyes you couldn’t quite place.

‘No you wally… pregnant’

Pregnant? You didn’t think so at all. Apart from feeling more emotional than usual you didn’t have any other symptoms that you could think of and you wondered if Mason was just getting ahead of himself.

‘No I don’t think so Mase, I’d know if I was’ you told him but you watched his face soften as he cupped your jaw.

‘Well I know you too, and I think you are’ he teased. ‘You’re all emotional, you’re eating everything in sight and Nala suddenly won’t let me go near you’ he listed off and you blushed at the fact he’d clearly caught you snacking more than usual. ‘Maybe we should check? Just to rule it out’

‘I mean we can but it’ll just be a waste’ you laughed ‘We only started trying a month ago, Mase. I doubt it would have happened that quickly’

‘Don’t doubt my powers of fertility’ he laughed and even though you wanted to smile you were trying your hardest to keep a straight face.

‘You’re insane’ you huffed, grabbing his hand and taking him upstairs to your en-suite. You’d made sure to stock up on tests since you were now trying and you instructed him to wait on the bed while you took it.

‘There you go’ you smiled, walking out of the bathroom and handing him the capped test that was still loading. ‘What do you fancy for dinner? I’ll go get it started’ you told him as you made your way to the door but he grabbed your wrist to hold you in place, looking back at you like you’d lost your mind.

‘You’re not gonna wait?’

‘There's no point, it’ll be negative babe. Now what do you want?’ You told him, shrugging your shoulders as you really believe deep down that you had nothing to worry about as there was no way you were pregnant already.

‘You pick’ he told you quietly, and with a kiss to his forehead you made your way back downstairs and into the kitchen.

Mason was gone for a while, almost to the point where you were about to go and find him but he suddenly appeared in the doorway with his eyes full of tears and a soft smile on his face. You knew he would be upset that it was negative, knowing he wanted a third baby more than anything but you figured at least if he was smiling then he hadn’t taken it too hard.

You didn’t have a chance to say anything though, Mason coming straight over to you so he could cup your face and press gentle kisses over your cheeks which made you blush and your knees weak but you loved his gentle side and you let him shower with you affection.

Before you could reassure him everything would be fine and you had all the time in the world to try for baby number three, he pulled back to look at you and you were frozen in place as you knew what that look in his eye meant.

‘You’re pregnant baby’

‘What?’

‘You’re pregnant’ he laughed, kissing your cheeks again as you froze in his hold. Letting him continue to kiss your face and it’s like his words hadn’t hit you yet until he rested his forehead on top of yours.

‘You're lying’ you whispered, your bottom lip wobbling as your eyes started to burn but he just laughed at you. Reaching into his pocket to pull out the test so he could show you and there it was in black and white. The words pregnant staring you back in the face until you looked up into Masons happy ones. ‘We’re having a baby’

You burst into tears instantly as you fell into Mason's chest. Him holding you close to his body as he rocked you from side to side, letting you know it was okay and that he’d keep you safe, the both of you safe, and when you eventually pulled back he kissed your tears away.

‘I didn’t think it would be this quick, sorry it’s just a bit of a shock’ you laughed, trying to wrap your head around it as your stared back at the word pregnant.

‘It’s alright, baby. Are you feeling okay?’

‘I think so’ you laughed. Letting him grip the back of your thighs so he could place you on the counter and look him in the eye. ‘I just can’t believe it, like I don’t even know what to think’

‘Well It’s still early love, how about we keep it to ourselves for a little while and tell the kids when we’re certain everything’s okay’ he reassured you and you felt yourself relax at how calm and in control he was about everything. ‘We can tell the rest of the world after that when you’re ready but for now it’s just us yeah? You, me and Nala’ he joked before pulling you in for a well needed hug.

So you kept it to yourselves. Telling the kids after your 12 week scan and as soon as Tilly found out you were pregnant she’d barely left your side and was seemingly very quizzical about what was happening. You knew she wanted to come out and ask fully how it had happened but she kept it inside until one night when it was just the three of you.

Ollie was at a friend's house for dinner and after all of you had eaten, you were cuddled up on the sofa with Mason, Tilly nestled in between you. Her head on Mason's chest as you watched whatever was on the tv but soon enough Tilly was ready for a biology lesson.

‘Daddy, how did the baby get in mummy’s belly?’ she asked, her head tilting up to look at him but as soon as you looked up you could see the panic written all over his face.

‘Yeah, how did it happen, Mase?’ You teased wanting to know how he’d worm his way out of this one but you could see he was hating every second of this. Sending you a what the fuck face before looking back down at Tilly who was waiting patiently for him to explain.

‘Okay, so you know how you write a letter to Santa at Christmas?’ He started, Tilly nodding excitedly and you could see the cogs turning in his brain, wondering where the hell he was going with this but let him carry on. ‘Well, when two people who love each other very much want a baby, they write a letter to the stork and then you have to bury it in the garden so they can come and pick it up’

You could see Tilly wasn’t buying it, looking back at him in confusion and you yourself were waiting for what he had to say next.

‘But how?’

‘How what?’

‘His did they get into mummy’s belly’ he asked more firmly this time as Mason was quite clearly skirting around it but knowing Tilly she would ask and ask until she got her answer.

‘Well um… well then the stork, it comes back and uh… and it leaves a seed which is the baby… and uh, that goes in Mummy’s tummy’ he nodded, stuttering the whole way through as he was panicking but you were loving how flustered he was. Trying to hold in a laugh as you covered your mouth with your hand.

‘But how does the seed get in there?’ She persisted, watching Mason now try to hide a smile before his eyes flashed to yours and you knew he was about to say something he shouldn’t.

‘She swallows it’

‘Okay that’s enough for today’ you interrupted, pulling Tilly onto your lap ‘you need to go and pick Ollie up’ you told Mason with a slightly dissatisfied look on your face and he quickly kissed your forehead la with a smile before getting up. ‘Come on missy, let’s get you in the bath, yeah?’

‘Okay mummy,’ she smiled. Reaching over to give Mason a kiss on the cheek before making her way up the stairs and you promised her you’d be right up in a minute.

‘Right I won’t be long’ Mason laughed as he got up, reaching down to help pull you up with him but he must have caught the unimpressed look from you as he began to laugh at your expression. ‘What?’

‘You know what’ you laughed. ‘Maybe If I had swallowed we wouldn’t be in this state would we’

‘I love it when you talk dirty’ Mason laughed. Pulling you into him with his hand on your bum and he squeezed it as he kissed you heavily. ‘I’ll see you soon, maybe when the kids are in bed we can try-‘

‘Mason I swear to god’ you laughed, pulling away and tapping his chest before making a beeline for the stairs but the sound of his giggles as he made his way out the door made you giggle along too.

Things took a turn at the gender reveal though. The four of you not doing anything extravagant but you knew you wanted the kids involved so after you scan you gave your bestie Sid an envelope with the gender inside so she could organise a cake and the next day you were all sat around the kitchen island with wine glasses in hand ready to sink them into the cake and you couldn’t be more excited.

Mason and Ollie didn’t care what the gender was, as did you, but Tilly was gunning for a baby sister. Having already picked out some toys for her to have and she constantly referred to the baby as she. You knew there would be a meltdown if she didn’t get her way but you were trying to distract her as best you could.

‘Okay, are we ready?’ you laughed, popping your hand on Tilly’s glass to help her push down into the cake and after the count of three you shut your eyes and pushed down on both until you hit the board.

It was Tilly crying no that made you realise what had happened. Looking round to see everyone’s glass filled with the blue frosting from the inside of the cake but Tilly’s wails wouldn’t let you enjoy your time just yet.

Mason was trying his hardest to contain his laughter and when you pulled Tilly into a hug to console her, he wrapped his arms around the pair of you whilst Ollie just grabbed a fork and began to dig into his cake.

‘Tilly baby, it’s okay’ you tried to reassure her, holding your laughs in as best you could but she just cried harder.

‘I don’t like boys’ she sobbed into your neck as she held you tight and as much as Mason looked like he was about to lose it, he peeled Tilly away from you and began to talk to her quietly. Eventually taking her out into the garden where you could see him swaying her from side to side as he spoke into the side of her head and eventually she was nodding her head and wiping her eyes

You joined Ollie though, accepting the fork he passed you so you could dig in too while you spoke about the new baby boy on the way and Ollie was very quick to reassure you how excited he was and how much he wanted to help out.

‘Okay, I think we’re on board now’ Mason announced as he walked back in with Tilly on his hip. A smile on her face but her eyes were still red and watery so Mason sat her on the side so you could feed her some cake.

‘Tilly, my new book came today. Shall I read to you for a bit?’ Ollie asked, your heart melting at the way he wanted to cheer her up as Ollie reading to her was their thing. Whenever Tilly was on mad one or overwhelmed he’d often take her over to their little corner to calm down and your heart felt full as she toddled off with her hand in his.

‘So, another boy huh?’ Mason smiled as he came over to you. Resting his hands on your waist as you rested yours on his chest and you were thankful for a little bit of alone time with him.

‘Looks like it. And after two clones of you I’m hoping this one looks a little bit like me’ you told him before he kissed your forehead with a giggle.

‘Are you happy?’

‘Of course, as long as he's healthy I couldn’t care what they are,’ you told him softly and he nodded his head in agreement. ‘What did you say to Tilly?’

‘Told her it’s another boy to boss around. And that if she’s the only girl then she’ll always be my only princess’

‘What about me?’ you pouted, watching Mason roll his eyes but he was leaning down to kiss you just after.

You’d picked a few names out, but just like you’d done with Tilly you wanted to see him before you named him and once you had, the name Ryley seemed to fit him like a glove. Whilst you could tell he was Mason's boy you were constantly told how much he looked like you and it made your heart swell whenever you looked at him.

Tilly also came around as soon as she saw him. Almost bursting into tears at the way her little face softened at the sight of her new brother before she was looking up at you for permission to say hello to him and Ollie was just as perfect as ever with him.

A new baby meant a whole new routine though and lately it meant Ryleys feed came at bed time so Mason had to put the others to bed on his own. Usually he’d love this but clearly the novelty has worn off for Tilly and she was making it as difficult for him as possible.

Soon enough the noise died down. Mason telling Tilly that Ryley won’t want to stay with us if she’s too loud and she finally took the hint and got into bed. Letting Mason read her a very quick story before he went and said goodnight to Ollie with the house falling silent once more.

You felt Mason pop his head into the nursery soon after, his eyes and facial expression soft as he took you in but he couldn’t hide the deep blush on his cheeks. Eyes flicking down to your exposed chest as you fed Ryley and you could see he was debating whether or not he should come in but you nodded your head to motion for him to come over. Watching him carefully make his way over to the pair of you and when he was close enough you lifted your head in hopes he’d lean down and kiss you. Revealing in the feeling of his lips brushing against yours softly and you hummed in delight just before he pulled away.

‘You two alright in here?’ He asked quietly, crouching down so he could kiss Ryley’s head. Your heart fluttering at the adoring way he looked down at him before his gaze was locked on yours.

‘We’re okay. Are you okay?’ You laughed, referring to the nightmare he seemed to have just had with the others and you smiled as he rolled his eyes playfully.

‘Oh you heard that yeah?’ He laughed. ‘Unless you put Tilly to bed she’s a right pain in the arse’ he teased. ‘I love her but my god she’s a handful sometimes’

‘They don’t call her Tilly the tiny terror for nothing’ you winked. ‘You done good though sweet cheeks’

‘Thanks’ he laughed, rolling his eyes again. ‘I’m gonna go sort myself out but I’ll see you in our room in a bit, yeah? Take your time’

‘Okay’ you whispered and with one last heavy kiss to your lips he was making his way out.

You sat Ryley up not too long after so you could wind him. Knowing Mason hadn’t really got to see him all that much today and he’d be itching for a cuddle soon so you made your way back across the hall to your bedroom for some time for just the three of you.

You didn’t questione why the door to your bedroom was shut even though maybe you should have. He never usually shut it as it was harder for you to open with just one hand whilst carrying Ryley and you always kept it open just in case one of the kids needed you but you just shifted Ryley on your chest so he was over your left shoulder and pushed the door open.

You should have known there was a reason why he shut it. Walking around to be met with the sound of his loud breathing and when you rounded the corner and into his view you were shocked by the sight in front of you.

There he was laid on the bed, T-shirt riding high on his perfect body as his boxers had been shuffled down his thighs ever so slightly to free himself and even from the split second view you knew what he was doing as his hand moved up and down. A shocked gasp falling from your lips before you turned and you heard mason fumbling behind you.

‘Shit! Oh god, oh god no’

‘Mase, it’s okay’ you told him, slightly chuckling as you turned back around to face him but the look on his face made your heart drop.

His cheeks were redder than you’d ever seen them, a humiliated look plastered across his face no matter how much he tried to hide it and he looked on the brink of tears.

‘Masey, no don’t get upset it’s alright’

‘I need the bathroom-’

‘No wait’ you called, popping Ryley into his crib as quickly as you could before rushing over to him to stop him from hiding away in the en-suite for the rest of the night and thankfully you caught him before he was able to shut the door. ‘Come here baby, come and talk to me’

‘No I-‘

‘Mase, come on’ you interrupted, pulling him back to bed so you could sit on the edge with him in hopes he’d look at you. He was determined to keep looking down though so in the end you just held him tight and spoke into his hair. ‘It’s okay, you don’t need to be embarrassed or anything. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before’

‘I thought I had more time’ he told you. Holding you tighter but you hated how down he sounded.

‘Look at me’ you whispered, letting him take his own time to gather himself before looking up at you shyly. ‘You don’t need to be embarrassed, it’s perfectly normal’

‘I know I just… it’s still embarrassing’ he laughed. ‘I feel like a teenager who’s just been caught. I just thought you’d be a bit longer with the little man and I’d have time. I haven’t wanted to ask for… you know. I wanted to wait until you’re ready and-‘

‘Who said I’m not ready’ you smiled. ‘I gave birth 8 weeks ago now so that’s two weeks over’

‘I know’ he smiled. I’m just worried that’s all’

‘Worried about what?’

‘I don’t wanna hurt you’ he whispered and your heart broke at his sad face. ‘Remember what happened after Tilly?’ He asked and you nodded solemnly.

It had been six weeks since Tilly had been born and you knew Mason was chomping at the bit to have you. You were too big and uncomfortable towards the end of your pregnancy so it had been months since you’d last been intimate and it was almost as if Mason was counting down the days.

Your night didn’t go as planned though. Unbenounced to you, you still weren’t fully ready and even though Mason had been gentle with you and you’d tried to push through it, it hurt too much and you’d ended up bursting into tears.

Mason felt awful, almost in tears himself as he tried to comfort you but you knew he was blaming himself when he shouldn’t be. In the end you took his face in your hands so you could pepper his cheeks with kisses but your heart was breaking as he repeatedly told you how sorry he was.

‘Masey it’s not your fault’ you told him quietly, but he wasn’t having any of it. Hiding his head into your neck for the rest of the night until the pair of you eventually fell asleep.

He was quiet with you but extra soft for a few days until you could talk it out and let him know it wasn’t his fault. You just had to wait an extra few weeks and everything would go back to normal.

You could see it in his eyes now that he was frightened so you pulled him closer and cupped his jaw so you could look at each other properly.

‘Tilly had a massive head baby’ you laughed. ‘She was a right pain to get out but I don’t feel like I did with Tilly. Ryley was a breeze compared to her and I’m all healed up now. There’s nothing to be afraid of’

‘Yeah?’ He smiled. His body relaxing in your arms as you reassured him everything was okay and the small smile on his lips made you feel a lot better.

‘Yeah, of course. In fact… what do you say we pop Ryley in his nursery for a bit so we can have some time for just us’

‘Wait, what?’ He whispered, his face looking slightly shocked but in all honestly your been craving some alone time with Mason yourself. ‘Are you sure?’

‘100%, Just give me a sec and I’ll be back’ you told him. Slightly untangling yourself from him so you could pick up Ryley and take him over to his nursery. You never left him in here at night but he had his naps in here all the time so you made sure the baby cam was set up properly before dropping a kiss on his head. ‘I’ll be back for you soon, little one. Just keep sleeping for me’ you whispered. Taking one last look before making your way back to Mason.

He was sitting on the bed facing the door when you got back and a sudden wave of anxiety rolled over you as soon as you shut the door. Your body had changed so much since he’d last seen it and you knew you were covered in stretch marks and still sagging in certain places so when he pulled you in between his legs you tried not to look him in the eye.

‘Baby? Everything alright?’ He asked, fingers delicately tracing the backs of your thighs and you just nodded and you pulled him into a hug.

‘I’m okay, just nervous’ you laughed awkwardly. ‘It’s been a while’

‘I know, love. We can go as slowly as you want to though, yeah?’

‘I know’ you smiled, kissing his forehead gently but he could still read your mind and sense how apprehensive you were.

‘And I don’t care what you think your body looks like now. You know that don’t you? I love you and I just wanna make you feel good’

‘I know, Mase’ you smiled, eyes filling at his sweet words. He’d said the same after both your other babies had been born but the words still hit you deep. You didn’t look like you used you, three babies would have an effect on anyone but Mason never cared. He took you as you were and only cared about looking after you, telling you you’d given him everything he’d ever wanted and he’d make sure he looked after you in whatever way you needed.

His hands were trailing all over your bare legs, touching wherever he could as his lips pressed kisses to your chest and you couldn’t help but giggle as he finally got to touch all the places he’d missed for the last few months.

‘What’s so funny?’ He smiled, pinching your bum gently as you steadied yourself but his cheeky smile was melting you.

‘We’ve been together for so many years now, had three kids together and you’re still as horny as ever’ you chuckled, wanting him to know how ridiculous you found him but deep down you knew you were just as bad.

‘That’s what happens when you’ve got the most beautiful wife in the world’ he told you. ‘You know I’ll never not want you. Even when we’re grey and wrinkly I’ll still think you’re hot as fuck’

‘If you’re trying to get me in the mood, talking about old people probably won’t help’ you told him, kneeling onto the mattress and his light laugh made you smile.

‘Noted’ he winked, shuffling back and inviting you to lay with him and once you were next to him he laid you back gently and kissed you with as much passion as he could muster.

He kissed you until you felt dizzy, your hands gripping at him where you could and when when you moaned into his mouth he rolled ontop on you so he could look directly down at you.

‘What do you want baby? You want my fingers?’

‘Mhmmm’

‘Yeah? You don’t sound so sure’ he teased but before you could protest he was talking again. ‘I think I know what you really want’

‘What’s that?’

‘You want my mouth, don’t you?’ He whispered lowly into you ear. The sound making you shiver and a gasp to fall from your lip at the sound of his dirty words. ‘Thought so’ he chuckled and before you knew it he was kissing down your neck as he grabbed the hem of your shirt.

You knew it was just Mason and he loved you no matter what, so you let him remove all your clothes as he placed kisses to your exposed skin. Pushing any nervous thoughts out of your head so on you could enjoy the feel of him again.

As soon as his lips touched where they needed to you felt yourself melt. Feeling like you were floating on clouds as he reminded you what you’d been missing out on for months as you tried your hardest to keep your moans at bay and not wake anyone. He made it difficult though. Getting back into the rhythm of things like he’d never been away and soon enough your fingers were getting tangled in his hair as he pushed you over the finish line.

‘Stop biting your lip, I wanna do that’ he laughed, as he made his way back up to your face. Kissing you so you could taste yourself and you let out quiet moan as he gently sunk his teeth into your bottom lip.

‘I’m trying to be quiet’ you laughed, lips against his as you spoke before he stole another kiss from you. Knowing he was ready and raring to go.

‘What do you want now baby?’

‘I want you. All of you,’ you told him. Watching a slight nervousness flicker through him and you wanted to reassure him straight away. Gripping the back of his neck so you could tug him back down for a kiss and as he got into it you began to undress him until you were both naked and needy for each other.

You knew he was watching you the whole time as he pushed his way inside of you. Your face contorting in pleasure as he took his time before bending down to press gentle kisses over your face.

‘Is that okay?’ He whispered, moving his hips slowly so you could adjust to him but you were already seeing stars after not feeling him for so long and all you could muster was a nod. ‘Yeah?’ Breathed, a sense of relief laced through his voice and you nodded as you tried to reassure him further.

‘Yes masey, keep doing that’ you moaned, louder than you’d intended to but it all felt so intense and you knew mason was feeling it too.

‘Should I slow down?’

‘No, just like that’ you sighed. Reaching up to grab his shoulders so you had something to steady yourself but also because you wanted to feel his skin under yours.

‘You wonder why I still can’t keep my hands off of you?’ He moaned, pulling up so he could hold you at your waist and take a bit more control. ‘Fucking look at you, you’re unreal’

‘Mase-‘

‘I know gorgeous. I’m with you, just let go for me’ he told you and you did exactly as he said. Letting him coax you through it until you were spent and he was flopping down gently next to you.

Sometimes you felt like this was your favourite bit. Laying skin to skin with your man as he gently stroked your back and you couldn’t help but nuzzle into him more as you made every second count. You’d missed these moments with him and from the way he was holding you close you knew he’d missed it too.

‘You okay?’ He whispered after a while. Feeling your eyes growing heavier as he lulled you to sleep but you looked up at him with a soft smile as he kissed your nose.

‘I’m perfect’

‘I didn’t hurt you at all did I?’ He questioned quietly but you shook your head so he knew you were fine straight away.

‘I promise you, I’m absolutely fine’ you told him. Pecking his lips softly before sighing. ‘I’m so comfy but I need to go and get Ryley. I don’t like leaving him in there alone for too long’

‘Stay there, okay? I’ll go get little man’ he reassured you. Kissing your head gently before untangling himself from you so he could get dressed and grab your boy.

You got dressed too whilst he was gone and you were just pulling your top over your head as he walked back in with Ryley cuddled into his chest. Your heart thumping at the way they were together and no matter when or where, watching Mason with a tiny human always made your knees weak.

‘Come on boys, mumma needs a cuddle’ you laughed. Jumping up onto the bed and letting Mason pass you Ryley before he laid next to you. His head on your chest as Ryley laid on the other side and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking down at Mason and seeing how happy he was to have some time with Ryley. ‘You okay, Mase?’

‘I’m better than okay’ he smiled, reaching up to give you a quick peck before nuzzling back down into your neck. ‘Thank you for everything, I never thought I could be this happy’

You didn’t have the words for him. Your eyes filling with tears as you kissed his temple but inside you were agreeing with him wholeheartedly. You too never thought you could ever be this happy but as you thought about where you were right now and who you were with, you knew right now your life and your family were complete.

Thank you so much for reading 🩷 I really hoped you enjoyed it and I’d love if you could leave me some feedback if you fancy it 😘

[wonwoonlight]

when he finds out you're sick through the internet

A/N: idol!au. OC is also a celebrity though I don't explicitly say what. tiny teensy angst bc cheol is a worried Boyfriend💔 1.5k words! another random word vomits bc that's the only way i know how to write now lol idk why but everytime i write this kinda fic it's always seungcheol looooooooooooooool. not proofread, but enjoy!

[part 2]

Seungcheol doesn't really get angry.

For the three years you've known him in which you've dated him for two, you've only seen him actually get angry a total number of three times. None of them was directed at you, and all of them are for reasons that you would've exploded upon way before he did.

Seungcheol is patient and rational.

Seungcheol is normally patient and rational.

But he's never normal when it comes to you. And even though the patient bit still stands, nothing about his feelings towards you is ever rational. He's a little too emotional, a little too rash, and a little too worrisome when it comes to your wellbeing.

So when he's relaxing in the practice room during a break with his members, for once not on his phone because he's charging it somewhere on one of the tables, and he hears Seungkwan gasps a little upon his phone, he thinks there's another scandal blowing up upon the industry. But when the younger guy's blown out eyes meet him, colors drained from his face, Seungcheol hates that he knew it could mean one thing: something happened to you.

He shoots up almost immediately, not registering any words that come out of Seungkwan's mouth. His hands shake a little when he unlocks his phone, and his heart drops when he reads the official post from your company's twitter account that states your current condition, that you might need to pause your activities for the time being due to health reasons, apologizes for the worries, and asks for the fans' understanding.

He wants to get angry.

At who, he’s not sure.

At your company, for pushing you even though they know your schedule is practically inhumane? At your manager, for not making sure that you have decent rest in between schedules? At you, because he’s been telling you to fucking stop running towards whatever goal you have in mind but you insist that you know your limit and you’ll know when to stop?

Apparently, no you fucking don’t because else this wouldn’t have happened.

The rest of the members look at him in worry, and Jeonghan silently walks to their manager and the other staff to let them know about the situation at hand, that Seungcheol would probably not be in his best state to continue practice at the moment. The leader would probably insist that they continue anyway, but they’ve practiced for almost five hours already anyway and they could spare an hour or two for the leader when it’s clear that he’s worried beyond measure.

Seungcheol bites his lip as he tries to call you, his concern skyrocketing by the seconds the longer the beeping sound goes, no sign of you picking it up. He tries one more time, but you still don’t answer and he’s about to hurl his phone at the wall when your manager calls him instead, tells him that he sees his name flashing on your phone, informs your whereabouts, and that he should just drop by your place in a few hours if he wants to see you because right now you’re still sleeping in the car and he’s taking you home.

He finds it hard to say anything, a lump growing in his throat until he manages to swallow it down and ask how you’re doing right now.

“She’s… exhausted.” Your manager says quietly. “I know it’s my job to take care of her but… you know her. She didn’t tell me that she’s been having a hard time sleeping at night the past few weeks and it finally took a toll on her.”

It’s hard to suppress his anger, his breath heavier than usual though it’s not too noticeable unless they know Seungcheol. He wants to scream at your manager, but he knows it won’t do anyone any good and it’s really not the time nor the place for that. So he mutters a quiet ‘thank you’ before he hangs up, his members looking at him with a mix of worry and understanding when he looks up at them.

“Go.” Soonyoung says. “We’ve practiced enough today. Take care of your girlfriend and tell us later.”

Seungcheol nods and sprints out of the room, beyond thankful that his members always have his back.

Seungcheol is glaring at you when you wake up, though the way his thumb is still softly caressing your head and the worry in his eyes clearly tell you that his anger is nowhere near his distress. 

You offer him a weak smile, unable to defend yourself because you know what his eyes are scolding you for.

“Sorry?” You whisper and immediately cringe at how dry your throat feels.

He doesn’t say anything as he helps you sit down and hands you your favorite mug. Taking in the moment, you frown at how weak you feel, though you really only have yourself to blame because you genuinely thought you’re okay and you can take it.

You know it’s on you for taking as many schedules as possible, practically everything that your company offers you even when your manager says he doesn’t think it’s physically possible for you to do all that in such a short span.

Thinking about it now, you realize that your manager and the rest of your team also gets the short end of the stick through your decision. Him, your make up team, and your stylists would all need to be with you and your ambition forgets to consider their wellbeing even when you wrongly claim you would be able to handle it.

Guilt starts to eat you inside out, and it grows even larger as you see Seungcheol in front of you–didn’t he say he had practice today?–his face screams distressed and his shoulders tense since God knows when.

“Hey, talk to me.” He says softly when he notices you’ve been spacing out and you’re nibbling on your lip like you would when you’re anxious, taking away your mug before enveloping your hands with his.

You tear up almost immediately, and he moves to sit on the edge of your bed to usher you into his chest, patiently listens to your nonsense as you try to talk through your tears. He gets the gist of it: sorry–manager–company–wellbeing–my team–didn’t think it through–made you worry–overestimated myself–sorry–and the list goes on. He exhales as he hugs you tighter, both understanding and upset at the turns of events.

Being in the same industry, he gets what you’re trying to do, understands that you feel the need to keep on running while you’re able to, relates that you’re doing everything for yourself and your fans. But still, it’s hard not to be upset to know you’re pushing yourself too hard when he’s been telling you there’s no need to run as fast as you are without resting; that you’ll only hurt yourself one way or another and he hates that the one time he needs to be right, it’s this.

You end up laying down against his chest on your bed, hiccups and sniffles filling your bedroom along with a random song he’s humming against your head. You pull away to properly look at him, the first time you’re doing it since you woke up earlier, and his hum stops in question.

“Thank you.” You manage to whisper, your fingers grasping the front of his shirt without even realizing. “For being here when I woke up.”

He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand why you’re thanking him, simply leans down to plant a long, chaste kiss against your forehead before he pulls up your blanket so it’ll cover you properly.

“Just… don’t surprise me like that again, okay?” His breath is warm against your face, pleasantly so, and you nod as you promise him that you’ll take better care of yourself moving forward. 

“Are you staying the night?”

“Yes, I’ll return to the dorm the day after tomorrow. They’ve given me a day off.” You cringe at his words, though thankful that he’s been in the industry long enough to attain that kind of privilege. But still, you feel bad that you’re obstructing his practice and his members just because you’re foolish enough to– “Hey. Stop. I know what you’re thinking. No need to feel bad. I’m actually glad I get to rest with you.”

“But–”

“No buts. The kids can do without me for a day.” He playfully bumps his forehead against yours, his lips hover above yours merely centimeters apart.  He doesn’t meet your lips, though he kisses their corner sweetly and wraps you back into his embrace to the point where there’s no space between you two. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Good night, Cheol.”

“Night, baby.”

“See you in my dream?”

“I’ll see you anywhere you want me to be.”

He hugs you tighter, and you try your best to return the gesture despite the awkward position of your arms. It’s uncomfortable and you’re sure your arms will be sore the next morning.

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. Not when you succumb to sleep and find Seungcheol smiling at you on the other side of your dream, as real as he can be.

cont.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Baboom

Debut: Super Mario Bros. Wonder

Baboom is my number one favorite new enemy from Wonder! In the days after the game's release, I was extra careful during what felt like the eternity before I got to play it myself (it was a week at most.) to not spoil anything for myself, and I succeeded, mostly! Yippee! And while I was playing through the beginning of the game, at least three friends all individually told me there was one enemy that they felt I would absolutely love. And they were right!

Let me tell you. I gasped when I saw it. I gasped when I saw this little waddling plastic tube. You know me! I do things like that. Its pure white eyes. Its adorable little trot. Its use of primary colors like some kind of baby's toy. But don't give it to a baby! This is explosive! You also shouldn't give any living creature to a baby! Why would you do that? You should be giving it some mashed carrots instead.

Speaking of babies though, it is Baboom who is the baby here, because it is canonically the newest of the living bombs produced by Bowser's Minions! What a little darling! It may be a little unclear what exactly it does at first, but when attacked, Baboom will begin shooting fireworks directly upward, one for each body segment! This "uses up" each segment, including the last one, but they don't actually explode themselves. Do you think they can still live after this? A "spent" Baboom, a single red segment, living a peaceful life wherever it landed? That would be nice.

I hate fireworks. Far too loud and bright. But Baboom makes it fun! It can be carried, and its fireworks used as an upward attack, defeating enemies, breaking blocks, and making coins fall! It is so enriching to shoot upwards in a Mario game. These fireworks cannot hurt the player, which seems like a big problem for a weapon made to fight Mario. An enemy that defeats enemies, and does not hurt our heroes? My word! Can this be? The classic and beloved story trope of a weapon made for evil rebelling against the circumstances of its creation? Hooray! Who says Mario games don't have complex stories? Look at the motivation I personally ascribed to this one disposable bomb. What are the other enemies thinking at any given time? There's surely a stunning story in every Snortoise!

Wonder has all these cute little animations for enemies bumping into each other, and Babooms will do a little... nod? toward one another when they meet! It's hard to tell if it is a nod given its anatomy, but whatever it is, I think it is saying "hello my friend!"

I would be remiss to talk about Baboom without mentioning Kab-omb, the ORIGINAL firework Bob-omb variant! I like Baboom more, but I hold a lot of respect for Kab-omb. A bomb just looking for a kiss, or maybe a glass of chocolate milk with a bendy straw. Is that so wrong?

[thegoldencontracts]

Hey! Can I suggest a tired & flustered Azul or Leona? Both are personal favorites

Hihi I gotchuu anon thank you for the requestt <3

also a bit off-topic but im indian-american (not native, like the asian country) and im the same shade as as leona which is why i hate hate hate when people talk about him blushing it'd be vy hard to see and i know its so weird and theyre good writers blah blah blah just a little pet peeve

Leona Kingscholar

You were currently being pulled into the arms of none other than the Prince of Afterglow, Leona Kingscholar. That wasn't particularly new - ever since you two started dating, Leona seemed to have a newfound love of cuddling you. It was pretty cute, actually. He really did act like a big cat sometimes.

Today, though, he seemed especially tired. He was always a bit tired - you knew why, and it wasn't a pretty story, but you had to digress - today, he seemed even more tired than usual.

It made sense. He had to pull an all-nighter yesterday catching up on paperwork for the Spelldrive club, something you still couldn't believe he'd actually done instead of just throwing the job onto Ruggie.

Still, he looked just about ready to collapse. You were getting pretty concerned.

"Wanna go to bed?" You asked, taking the opportunity to card your fingers through his hair. For once, he didn't try to hide the way he leaned into the touch. He pouted, though, and at that moment, you thought your heart was going to explode.

Leona, calm, always composed Leona was pouting at you. He looked almost like a kid right now.

You couldn't help the hearty laugh that escaped you. Leona huffed at you, angling his face in a way that made his dark circles much too prominent.

"Really, though," you said. "Get some sleep. I'll be here in the morning."

Leona mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"Come with me, herbivore," he said, more mumbled, and though it wasn't visible, you could tell he was blushing. The way he couldn't meet your eyes said it all.

He was surprisingly honest today.

He probably took your silence for teasing or the like, because he turned away with a huff.

"You can," he said. "I don't really care either way."

You smiled. It was genuine, not an ounce of teasing. You weren't going to do that, now when it was already so hard for him to be more vulnerable with you. It was overjoying just to know he was being honest.

"I'll take you up on that offer," you said, and that poorly hidden smile made every moment you'd have to spend listening to him snore worth it.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was working this evening. That was fine - he'd literally taken you out on a date so custom-tailored to you it made you wonder how exactly he knew you so well yesterday, you weren't going to complain about his performance as your beloved.

But he seemed tired. No, no, that was an understatement. He seemed like he was about to pass out any moment now. And yet, by some miracle, he was still working.

You had to perform well has his beloved, too. And that meant taking care of him when he was ill - or in this case, so tired he might as well have been.

"Azul?" you called out, and the thirty seconds it took him to process your voice and turn to look at you said it all. "Don't you think you should go to bed?"

After a few seconds, he shook his head blearily.

"'Can't," he mumbled, his words slurred. "Work."

You vaguely understood what he was trying to say. He couldn't sleep, he had work to do.

But it didn't seem like he was going to get much done in his current state other than pass out.

"Sleep, please," you said, and you were honestly shocked at how gentle your voice sounded. Being in love with Azul really did things to you, huh?

"But the money!" he whined, and you couldn't help but laugh. The money? That's what he cared about right now? How much money did he actually think he'd lose from sleeping? "'Want money."

This was the love of your life. This man.

Seeing you laugh, he huffed, cheeks bright red.

"Stop laughing," he said, pouting. "Ugh. 'S why you have no money."

Cold, Azul. Cold. Even in his current state, he had to remind you of your painfully broke reality.

"Then you'll have to help me make some, then." You said, trying to appeal to his love of rambling about finance. "Why don't you teach me? We can go to your room while we're at it, more privacy that way."

He nodded shakily, cheeks still a bit pink.

"I'm very-" he cut himself off, trying to pronounce somthing. "'Nevolent. Be-ne-vo-lent. I'll help you."

"Thank you so much," you said, and he followed you to his room.

You couldn't wait to see how embarrassed he'd get in the morning.

Bonus (Of sorts):

"I said what?"

"Yeah, and your face was so red! You kept slurring over your words, too. You couldn't even say 'benevolent'! Isn't that, like, your signature word?"

"Stop teasing me already!"