#i’m so out of tune with my emotions that i won’t even let the panic reach me

[taanekii]

.

#every fiber of my body just wants to scream #i’m so out of tune with my emotions that i won’t even let the panic reach me #3 years ago i used to be so incredibly overwhelmed by my emotions that i was not able to control them #rather they took a hold on me #and now i’m so out of tune with them that i can’t let things phase me #and i’m not doing it on purpose i seem to have no control once again but now on the contrary side #my subconscious remembers how extremely overwhelming my emotions used to be #that it’s protecting me by not letting them get close to me at all #it’s not that i don’t feel anything #i do #it’s just that as soon as i feel something #my brain automatically lowers it down that i’m not even able to name the emotion i’m feeling anymore #and it is so draining #so draining to the point i don’t actively feel it #i know it’s there but i’m unintentionally keeping myself out my own self? #funny how my black & white theme fits as that’s exactly considered as black & white thinking #i either feel too much or won’t let myself feel anything #i need to find the grey tone #but how #how do i find it? #and ngl if one of you guys actually read everything then please let me know in one way or another lol

[hotluncheddie]

high masking autistic steve snippet - a follow on from this and this

wc: 2.5k | rated: T | cw: none | tags: autistic steve harrington (and eddie but again this is about steve), hurt/comfort, established relationship, stimming

ao3

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Steve is spending the evening doing one of his new things. Where he takes time to just be. It’s recovering, or Stevie time, or whatever Eddie and Robin have decided it should be called. 

He’s alone basically, and it’s nice, because he’s letting it be nice. Letting it be restful. 

It’s for when he’s had a meltdown. Or can feel one coming on, because now he’s starting to recognise what overstimulation feels like on his skin. How it prickles at the back of his neck if his breaks cut short, makes his vision vignette if something too unexpected happens. 

Learned that after something like that he’ll need to rest. Needs time. 

And it’s not lazy. It’s not. (Sometimes it still feels like it is.) (Weak…that word always plays in the deep, scathing tone of his father’s voice…and selfish.)  

He’s on the couch, it’s dark, he actually feels really comfortable, and he’s watching The Breakfast Club. Watching it again. It’s his favourite, it feels like his. But he doesn’t like watching it with other people because they might notice how much he likes it and he doesn’t want that. Can’t be seen like that.. Embarrassing. 

So he watches it alone, when he gets home from work. He pauses whenever he wants, rewinds, pauses. Takes a deep breath, rewinds, pauses, stares into space. 

He also pauses to eat the snack he brought in. Actually tasting the food bc it’s the only thing he has to focus on. No lights, no sounds. He forgot how much he likes oranges when they’re ripe. Harder to taste if he has to listen at the same time. So, on a day like today, he lets himself do stuff one step at a time. 

It’ll probably take him double the normal run time to get all the way to the end. But who cares? It’s his time. 

The weird girl’s parents driving off; that feels like him. The jock’s Dad letting him off easy; that doesn’t feel like him. ‘No schools gonna give a scholarship to a discipline case.’ Maybe that does feel like him. Before through. A long time ago now. 

He claps sometimes. Keening high in his throat, a little happy hum that he only lets himself do when he’s alone like this. He does it after he whistles the same tune they do. And during the scene of them running around the corridors. It’s exiting. Makes his lips stretch wide and his feet flap around. He claps. Once. Twice. It feels good. 

He laughs at the characters. How they merge together with bits of his friends. He feels that swell of happy sad emotion looking at the jock when he first comes in, acting above the others, only seeing Molly Ringwald. He lives through a couple flashbacks of himself. Resigns to actually watch them, sit in them, begins to process who he was. Who he’s becoming now. Something like forgiveness tasting sweet on his tongue. He cries a little; that swelling and shifting as buried emotion finally passes. It overcomes him sometimes when he lets his mind relax.. He rewinds, and he laughs. 

“Stevie?”

Steve starts, fingers tangle in the blanket in his lap. Brain slow to process the change, the information. Eddie slipping through the door and coming over to him. Eddie dipping to look at Steve’s face, trying to catch Steve’s eye. Eddie smelling like cigarettes and crisp autumn air, it’s nice, but, it’s a lot. Panic sits bubbling somewhere in him. He wasn’t expecting this. 

“…Eddie?”

“Hey sweetheart. I know you had a shitty day, but Wayne’s at home with a headache and he needs to sleep it off. Wouldn’t’ve been able to stay quiet enough for him.”

Steve breaths in and out a little quickly. Eyes wide. 

Maybe it’s okay. Eddie knows he had a bad day. Maybe it’s okay.

“I’ll sit in the kitchen, work on my campaign, just forget I’m here.” Eddie speaks quietly, almost a whisper. 

He stares at his hand in his lap. “..You won’t, listen?” Steve feels small. Knows he’s not, his frame broad and strong. But, he needs small. Wants his world small tonight, slow. Wants to stay hidden. Him and the couch and the film and nothing else. 

Eddie just shakes his walkman and smiles (in that pointy way that makes Steve’s toes curl). 

“Kay” Steve whispers, still wary, off kilter. But accepts the kiss Eddie drops on his head, tangling their fingers together for a breath. Steve leans forward for a kiss on the lips. It’s deep, and lovely. Steve can smell Eddie’s cologne. Feels where the chill bit at Eddie’s nose. He shivers.

“No cooking.” Steve mumbles while their lips are still close. Small smile pulling at his face, eyes sharp, waiting for Eddie to get it. 

Eddie groans quietly in embarrassment but his eyes are soft and molten and Steve’s toes curl up again. “Course not baby, not again. Once you’re hungry just come through, yeah? Make us something nice.”

And the light of the kitchen doesn’t reach the couch. And Eddie listens to his walkman loud. And Steve’s safe. It’s Eddie. He’s not listening. Steve’s safe. 

His favourite scene; Bender and Claire in the stock cupboard. The way he looks so shocked, the way she bites her lip. ‘Why’d you do that?’ ‘Because I knew you wouldn’t.’ Steve whispers as they do. Claps. It’s such a good scene. He’s exited. He claps again. Rewinds to just watch her face. Rewinds to just watch his. Rewinds and watches the whole scene again. Wraps his arms around his middle and squeezes. Pauses on the kiss. He rubs his fingers agains his mouth. Giddy excitement bubbles in his belly. He hums high and happy again. He loves this movie. 

The weird girl gets a makeover, the jock really likes it. He feels like the weird girl sometimes, maybe Eddie can be his jock. Maybe he should get a makeover. Maybe keep growing out his hair. Maybe Eddie would like that. 

The credits roll. Bender’s fist in the air. Steve drifts on the couch, eyes closed. He breaths deep, his stomach growls. 

He pads through to Eddie. Squinting. Too bright. “D’you mind?” He motions to the lights, his eyes too adjusted to the dark and he doesn’t even wanna try and adjust them back. 

‘‘Cause. What we making?” 

Steve hums, goes into the pantry to see what’s easy. Eddie slips in behind him, hand on his waist. “Pasta?” Steve asks but Eddie doesn’t reply, just turns him gently. Nudging him to step back into the corner. 

Eddie looks at him, dips forward to place a slow kiss on his neck. “Why’d you do tha..’ Steve’s words dry up in his throat. 

“Because I knew you wouldn’t” and Eddie’s eyes are sparking with glee.

Eddie heard him.

He listened.

Steve’s feels himself flush hot, embarrassed and ashamed. “Ah, I, uh.” He can’t explain it, why he had to watch it so many times, why it makes him so exited. He crosses his arms over his chest. Turns back to the shelves of food and picks a can at random. Shoving out of the room. 

“Steve?”

Eddie said he wouldn’t. He listened in on him. He said he wouldn’t. He’s making fun of him. Steve knew he should’ve told Eddie to go home. 

“Stevie? What’s wrong?” But Steve doesn’t want to talk to him. He’s so angry, So ashamed, of himself. What if Eddie heard him clap too, heard him make that high noise, like a fucking baby, like some freak. 

He puts the can on the counter with way too much force, corn, not what he fucking wanted. His hands are shaking. He stares at them, wills his tears to stay behind his lash line. He got too comfortable, he can’t do that. Why is it so hard to pretend now, when it used to be so easy. 

“Steve, tell me what I did, please.” 

“‘M fine” Steve’s insides feel too big, pushing against his skin, itchy all over. He squeezes himself around his middle again, digging his fingers in hard. 

“Don’t do that, you know I hate when you bullshit like that.” Half lovely, half scathing.

The word stinks, a stab to the gut. But Steve gets it, he does, they talked about it. He bites his lip, hard. 

Its old habits or whatever. Because Steve, he loved fine. Liked sinking his teeth into it; toxic waste green coating his mouth and lungs. Thick and delicious. Because fine gets you out of it. Fine gives you translucency. Controlled balance. Everything appearing a none issue, the perfect in-between. Steve was perfect at coming off as something to not worry about, someone to be ignored. It used to work in all situations; can’t get told off if you’re fine, cant do anything wrong, teachers didn’t look twice, his parents wouldn't shout. By staying half alive, never letting anyone too close, never filling your lungs up all the way. That was the fine Steve adored. 

“You were literally just watching a movie. I dunno what the big deal is.” and there’s frustration, confusion, in Eddie, Steve thinks. He feels himself tense up, glance over.

Eddie must see something on his face. See that scared little animal prowling around within him. Because Eddie softens, his voice gentle. “Steve.. it’s nothing I hadn’t heard before.’ And Steve’s teeth clamp together with a click. He’s done that, his clap and his high hum, in front of Eddie before? Steve tries to swallow, he can’t, a lump too big and sticky in his throat.

He can’t look him in the face, angry tears still threatening to spill “You said you wouldn’t listen.” He’s mumbling. He sounds even more like a kid. Stupid. Grow up.

“I heard a little but I was just flipping the tape over, I wasn’t trying to snoop on you Stevie… You just, you sounded happy.” 

Steve huffs. Glances at Eddie. That soft underbelly of his whining, because with Eddie, Steve yearns. Yearns for close. Yearns to be seen, and understood.

“You didn’t mean to?” 

“No, it was just when I was turning the tape.” 

Steve forces a deep breath. 

“You think I’m weird. You hate me.” He whispers it like it’s true. A big part of him believes it, his tears welling up. Feels rejected. Knows that feeling too well. Hates it. 

“Always like you Steve. Always.”

Steve grunts, a tear slips out, rolls down his cheek.

“‘M embarrassed” comes out like an ugly sob. Steve scrubs his palms on his cheeks, feeling how red hot they are. Glaring at the countertop. “I’m embarrassed!” But it’s just Eddie. It was just Eddie.

Eddie comes over, slowly draping himself over Steve’s back. “Nothin' to be embarrassed about, love.” And Eddie leaves soft kisses on Steve’s neck, squeezes his waist. “You looked cute on the couch like that. Like it when you’re happy.” Steve tries taking another deep breath but it shudders. 

Embarrassed, angry, sad. Embarrassed, confused, angry. Frustrated, embarrassed. Tired. 

Emotions wash over him. He’s learning to try and just feel them, name them, pick them apart. Some bubble back up to the surface, some only needed to be seen once. 

Steve turns to bury his face in Eddie’s neck. He sighs, rubs his face into Eddie’s warm skin. shaking his head, likes how his lips feel moving against edie’s soft parts. 

Tired, hungry, embarrassed, hungry. 

“’M tired. I dunno what to eat.” He whispers, and then because he said it it’s like there’s space in his brain. “Want pasta.” 

“Pasta it is then. And then we can sleep, yeah?” Eddie rocks them gently side to side, kisses the side of his head and slips away. Goes to get the box from the pantry, puts the corn back. Steve gets a pot out of the cupboard. 

Staring into the water, the tips of his fingers prickle. Steve fizzes with energy and emotion. All pent up and annoying him. Needs it out. He clicks the flame on.  

He starts pacing around the kitchen island. In big striding, stomping steps. “Ugh! You think I’m weird. Some weird guy who acts weird and does weird shit.” Steve grumbles. Annoyed. He smacks his palm quick and hard against the counter top. Keeps stomping. 

Eddie comes back and starts following. Stomping and prancing like some court jester. “I like that you’re weird! You know, I have one episode of the Twilight Zone taped. It’s my third one. I watched the other two so much the tapes broke.’ Steve lets a little shout slip from him “Ha!” bubbly and forceful. Dislodging something within him. Like when a tooth finally falls out. 

Feels good. 

“I only like one brand of spaghetti hoops. Wayne once bought me a multipack for Christmas. Best fucking gift I ever got.” and Steve’s laughing now. Giggling and manic and still stomping around the island.

“I like how it feels to brush my teeth. I’ve never had a filling. I fucking love brushing my teeth, Eddie.” and that makes Eddie laugh now too. Two freaks stomping around the kitchen. A king and his jester, lit up by moonlight. 

Steve turns the corner and stops short, still giggling. Eddies bent at one knee, presenting the box of pasta to him. “My liege.” 

Steve claps, hums, high and keening. The waters boiling. 

-

“How’d you feel now?’ Eddie asks around a mouthful of cheesy pasta. 

Steve curls up tighter into the corner of couch, wraps both hands around the warm bowl. Glances at Eddie across from him. “Still kinda embarrassed.”

Eddie looks so soft, so kind, across from him. “I’m embarrassed too, to be honest. You love that movie, I thought you’d like me doing that. Kinda like when we, when we kissed upside-down, like I was Spider-man” Eddies sentence get quieter towards the end, mumbly, spoked into his bowl, cheeks dusted pink.

Steve strains to hear him. Smiles once he puts the words together. 

He shovels pasta in his mouth. Eyes closed. “You are so annoying Eddie Munson. Why’d you even come here tonight, you coulda gone anywhere.” Steve sinks further into the couch, it’s really good pasta.

“Missed you.” Eddie says it like it’s simple, easy, and warmth drips over Steve’s skin. 

Eddie clears his throat, Steve feels him fidget. “Wanna maybe.. You think we could live together one day? Want you to be able to do whatever you want with me around Steve. Breakfast Club on all the time at our place, kay?” And Steve’s throat constricts, that’s a big change, living with someone, moving out. But maybe with Eddie it could be okay, if they did it together, slow. 

“Yeah, kay. One day.” Softly, bit by bit. Little bits. Steve can get there. Let Eddie in, let Eddie see. “But no to Breakfast Club on all the time.” Because some times, some days, some things, are just for him. Steve needs it that way. And that’s okay. 

He stretches out further on the couch, feeling syrupy and nice, easy smile playing at his lips. “I like it when you kiss my neck though, you can do that again.” And that makes Eddie grin all pointy, put their bowls to the side and crawl over him. 

Steve’s toes curl and he hums, high and happy. 

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tagging those who asked mwah! @2jug2head @lil-gremlin-things

but also people who i think might be interested (sorry if ur not lmk and i won't again) @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @steventhusiast @sugarcookiesteve @spectrum-spectre @irethsune

#hope u enjoy!! #autistic steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #hotlunch #my fic #once again #steve harrington needs a hug #and once again #he gets one #lmk if u liked it #i can’t tell u how many times i’ve watched the breakfast club dude #there’s just something about it

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

Hey! For your Miles requests, I'd love to read about what it might be like for the reader to watch Miles transfer to Visions if they both went to Brooklyn Middle together.

Not This Time

Miles Morales x fem!reader

Miles Morales x black!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: none

Requested: yes

A/N: GUYS PARTICIPATE IN MY 300 FOLLOWER SPECIAL PLEASE also hope you guys enjoy electro because I had to make something up.

300 Follower Special <3

Masterlist

“You’re not gonna forget me right?” You wondered. 

It was the last week of summer and you were clinging to the last few days you had left with Miles. Sitting on his building’s rooftop you stared down at the Brooklyn you’ve known your whole life. You and Miles were the fastest of friends since your first day at Brooklyn Middle you genuinely couldn’t imagine not seeing him every day. You were still proud of him, however. Getting into Visions was a pretty big deal. 

“Why would you ask me that?” He glanced at you offended. 

You simply shrugged, pulling your knees up to your chest. “I dunno, you’ll go and make new friends and I won’t be so important anymore,” 

“No,” He shook his head, turning to face you. “That would never happen,” 

You looked back at him, maintaining eye contact. 

 “I’d never forget you,” He promised. 

The first week of freshman year was finally over. It wasn’t as bad as your middle school teachers tried to make it seem, you’d made a couple of new friends, and none of your teachers were mean.

Realizing you hadn’t spoken to Miles yet today you pulled your phone out to message him. 

you: how was your first week? 

miles: my science teacher was on my ass but my roommates not bad

miles: he doesn’t talk much 

you: i told you, you’d be fine

you: wanna go the end show w/me tonight in golconda

you: it’s at 7 

miles: im sorry I cant :( too much hw 

you: oh no don’t worry maybe next time

Putting your phone back down on your desk with a huff you tried not to feel disappointed. There would be other opportunities to hang out. It’s not like this was the end of your friendship. 

The excuses and cancellations only grew in numbers. Soon you’d gone from seeing Miles every day to barely holding a virtual conversation once a week. 

You weren’t going to sit around and wait for the crumbs of attention Miles was willing to give you. This would not be a one-sided relationship, you had too much self-respect for that. 

But just because you weren’t actively talking doesn’t mean you didn’t care. You’d just care from afar. 

—————-

You weren’t one to watch the news but the TV was open to Channel 12 when you made it home from running errands. Placing your grocery bags on the couch something compelled you to tune in. 

Seeing PDNY cars surrounding a crazed man wielding what looked to be lightning bolts sent you into a state of controlled panic. You practically sped to Miles’s apartment to check on Mr. Morales. 

He wasn’t there when you got to the apartment but Rio informed you he was okay and she’d just spoken to him on the phone.  

Letting out a sigh of relief you relaxed your shoulders. Slumping to sit down next to her on the couch she gave you a once-over 

“You’ve grown so much since I last saw you. How’s high school?” She asked, now getting a better look at you. 

“It’s definitely different,”

“We’ve missed you around here, Miles has been acting so different lately, he’s not my little boy anymore,” She sighed wistfully. 

“I miss you guys too,” You pouted.

 You didn’t want to get emotional but you really did miss your second family. And you weren’t trying to take it personally but Miles avoiding you truly hurt. “It’s so weird not seeing Miles anymore,” 

“Seeing him a couple times a week must be very different from every day,”

A couple times a week? You hadn’t seen him at all this month. Even if you were pissed at him you didn’t want him in trouble so you just agreed. 

“Yeah, I’m still not used to it.” 

You weren’t leaving until you saw for yourself that Mr. Morales was okay. Your stubbornness and unwillingness to take things as you’re told kept you from being able to fully believe Mrs. Morales’s promise of her husband’s safety. Anything could’ve happened between their phone call and now. 

Waiting on the couch listening to Mrs. Morales talk about work and her conniving coworkers. You felt the most at peace as you’ve had in a while. 

The peace didn’t last long as Miles came bursting through the front door adorning his red and black jacket with oversized sweats and his backpack slung over his shoulder. Mrs. Morales immediately stood up and moved towards him, the picture of concern. 

“Mijo, what’s wrong, what are you doing here it’s a school night?” 

Instead of answering her he just threw himself into her arms and wilted into her chest. 

From your place on the couch, you couldn’t hear the muffled conversation or anything at all, which only amplified your worry. 

“What happened? What’s wrong?” You found yourself calling out standing from your spot on the sofa. 

The sound of your voice snapped him out of his reprieve. Miles pulled his head from the crook of his mother's neck. He let his eyes roam over you attempting to assess if you were real or not. 

Once he decided his eyes weren’t deceiving him he practically launched himself into your arms. 

You stumbled back with the force of his weight and despite your anger and confusion, you hugged him back. 

Evidently, something was wrong but he wasn’t going to talk about it anytime soon. You tried to hold out and let him feel his emotions but- 

“Miles,” You wheezed out into his chest. “Can’t breathe.”

He released you the slightest bit but didn’t let you go. 

“Sorry,” He muttered to the top of your head. “Missed you so much,” 

“Missed you too,” 

As much as you loved Mrs. Morales, she was a chismosa and every conversation was not for her ears. 

“Let’s go outside,” You suggested grabbing his arm to pull you with him. 

You hadn’t made the climb to the water tower in a while and you weren’t as fit as you were a month ago. Trying to hide it out of embarrassment you switched the topic. 

“You cold?” You asked panting as you found your footing. 

“What?” He questioned looking down at himself.

 As if he just discovered the zip-up he was wearing he answered. “Oh! Yeah, yeah it’s really chilly out here,” 

Even without the years of knowing Miles under your belt, you would’ve known he was lying but you didn’t feel like starting an argument the first time you saw him in a while so you just dropped it. 

The two of you easily fell back into the swing of things as if there were never any distance between the two of you. You were glad to be talking again, now knowing his issue wasn’t due to anything you’d done. 

He was catching you up on everything you’d missed in his life when he went ghost on you, but he still wasn’t hinting at what was bothering him. He was using you as an alibi and not even telling you, it was so unlike him. 

Even his mom noticed a change in his behavior so why wouldn’t he just talk to you? You had to bring it up or you’d regret it once you’d gotten home. 

“You know you can tell me anything right?” 

He hummed in acknowledgment.

 You should be furious he’d ghosted you for so long. And now he won’t even talk to you? but looking at him now he looked so upset and broken you couldn’t feel anything besides concern. 

“Miles please, tell me what’s going on,” You begged. “We tell each other everything,” It was true you even told him when you had started your first period the summer before 7th grade. You never felt the need to hide anything from each other. So why start now? What happened between the start of high school to now to make him stop trusting you? 

“Is it me? Can you just not tell me?” You attempted to rationalize his behavior. 

“It’s not you,” He promised. 

“So then talk to me please,” You whined. 

“I can’t tell you. Not this time,” 

The last person to learn he was Spider-Man died. In the same month, he watched Spider-Man and his uncle die in right front of him. All his other friends left him and maybe it was selfish but you were the only one he had left. He refused to lose you or have you look at him differently. Maybe telling you would lift some of the burden of having a secret identity as just a child, but he couldn’t risk it. Not this time. Not with you.

©guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom

#hannah speaks ღ #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales x fem!reader #miles morales angst #miles morales fanfiction #miles morales fluff #miles morales

[stirthewaters]

Inside

This is a lil story I've been working on that's a Wednesday x Reader type of thing. Maybe a part two? <3

You sit by yourself. Only partially by choice. Sure you have friends. Or, at least a friend. But currently you’re sitting in the sill of your window, looking at the forest outside of Nevermore’s cursed walls, completely and utterly alone. The music that drifts through your earbuds is depressing and powerful; you bob your head to the music, lip-syncing as the lyrics fill you with emotion.

After being a student at Nevermore for almost three years now, it’s almost funny how you’ve only managed to secure one friend; Enid Sinclaire. Even if she is the most social person at Nevermore, it feels good to have someone like her that has your back. But she’s not here right now. Currently she’s somewhere around the quad, with her new “roomie”, whoever that is.

You’re not jealous, though. Sure, it kinda stings that the empty space in Enid’s room that you used to occupy won’t be available to hang out on randomly, but you’re sure that Enid will do some kind of Nevermore Dorm Party, and invite you. If she still likes you that is. Which she will. Probably. 

Anxiety sucks. Usually it’s a common thing when it comes to teenagers, but for you, it flares up unusually easily. Noticeably so when in public. That’s why you have to clamp a lid onto your emotions whenever you start feeling stressed or scared. Panic attacks too. If you don’t keep your anxiety in check, panic attacks will flare up, and when that happens it’s too easy to spiral out of control. It really sucks when you have to spend the better part of an hour trying without much success to calm you down.

Shaking out these thoughts from your head, you crank up your music and decide to head down to the cafeteria for food. As the emotional lyrics pound through your brain, you pull up your hood and get up, heading down the hall. 

The cafeteria is noisy. Perfect. Nothing better than a bunch of yelling, talking, laughing teenagers to ramp up your social anxiety. Burying your earbuds deeper into your eardrums, you wait in line, pretty much tuning out everything around you.

So that’s why when you feel a tap on your shoulder, you’re nearly scared out of your skin. Whipping around and pulling out an earbud, you see Enid holding a tray. Standing next to her is a girl. Completely goth. Black braids with long bangs that almost cover her eyes. Her Nevermore Uniform isn’t the typical blue; instead it’s just as black as her hair. Her skin is pale, and her face is expressionless. 

“Hey, Y/N! This is Wednesday, my new roomie! I wanted you to meet her since you two will be seeing a lot of each other from now on,” Enid smiles, gesturing to the girl. You turn to her, studying her. “Um, hi. I-I’m Y/N,” you say, assuring yourself that your tone is stiff. You don’t want Enid’s new roommate to see your flimsy interior. “Wednesday. Wednesday Addams,” she responds, holding out her hand to shake. You take it, and shake it. 

“Why don’t you sit with us? We just got here,” Enid suggests, gesturing to a solitary and small table in the corner of the huge room. You give her a small smile, and nod. “That sounds great. Thanks, Enid.” 

After receiving food, you, Enid, and Wednesday, all sit at the small table. The noise from the crowds is softer here, and you let out a small sigh of relief. 

“So, Y/N, why don’t you tell Wednesday about some of your interests?” Enid suggests, clearly trying to break the silence. 

“I uh…” you clear your throat when you realize that Wednesday is watching you. “I like music, I guess.” You smile a little bit, gesturing to the earbud still buried in your ear. “I like drawing and reading too…just normal stuff.”

“Wednesday, why don’t you tell Y/N some of your interests?” Enid nods approvingly. “Besides sucking the life out of people for fun?” Wednesday remarks, “I write.”

“Oh, cool…” you respond, making eye contact with her. Her expression says nothing, but her eyes flicker with a bit of understanding. Maybe she’s like you. Lonely? But from what you know, she enjoys being alone. 

“Well, anyways, here, Y/N. Wednesday and I are hosting a Get-To-Know you Dorm Party tomorrow night. You have to come,” Enid hands you an invitation smothered with glitter. You meet Wednesday’s glance,

“Both of you?”

“I had no business with the invitations. If I touch a speck of glitter I’ll break out in hives,” Wednesday remarks coldly to Enid. Enid sticks out her tongue and snarks, “well some people who aren’t goth and edgy actually like it.” 

“Well, I’ll come. It sounds like fun. Who else did you invite?” you ask, eyes flickering nervously between the two. 

“Uh, Ajax and Yoko…and Bianca I think,” Enid counts her fingers as she lists the names. Your whole body freezes over. Crap. 

“You invited Bianca?” you mutter through gritted teeth. Enid shrugs.

 “Why not? Maybe Wednesday can take her down a couple pegs for once. Otherwise she’s not too bad.”

“You don’t approve of Bianca?” Wednesday eyes you. You sigh. “She’s my roommate.” You avoid eye contact.

 “And?” Wednesday clearly knows that that isn’t the whole story. 

“It’s nothing…she’s just kind of bossy and stuff,” you mumble, accidentally letting the other side of you show as you begin fiddling with your shirt. Wednesday says nothing but narrows her eyes. 

“Well, I have to get going. Art class and stuff,” you quickly stand, turning away so that Wednesday can’t see your pink cheeks. Seriously? Do you really like this expressionless goth girl? There’s no chance anyway. You dump your food in the trash and exit the quad, leaving Endi and Wednesday behind.

After a long day of classes, you sit in the corner of the cozy and warm library. Typically the best spot in Nevermore, since no one actually comes in here to read, albeit the occasional couple that comes to make out. Luckily, it’s empty today. You have your earbuds playing gentle music as you flip through a horror novel, when you hear murmurs of conversation from the main room to your left.

“The cover was darker…more like a day old contusion. Keep looking.” The voice is Wednesday’s. You peek in between cases to see a disembodied hand covered in scars and stitches rifling through the shelf above Wednesday’s head.

Your heart begins pounding so loud that you are almost positive that Wednesday can hear you as you try to focus on your book as Mrs. Thornhill enters the library, having a small discussion with her. You feel anxiety beginning to bubble in your chest, threatening to well up and out of you. Furious with yourself, you grip your arm tightly, creating small gashes in your skin. You let out a small gasp of pain and slap your hand over your mouth, burying your nails deeper while doing so. You pull your sleeves far over the marks, biting your lip almost clean through as the pain makes you feel a little bit dizzy.

“What are you doing here?”

Wednesday is standing in front of you, the hand perched on her shoulder. You wipe your eyes, and try wiping your face of emotions as you say casually,

“R-reading…” you gesture to the book that lays beside you on the beanbag. She shakes her head. “I smell blood.”

“Oh.. uh, odd…” you stammer, your voice cracking a little bit, looking away. You don’t want to meet her prying eyes. She knows. How does she know? “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” 

The hand leaps from Wednesday’s shoulder, grabbing your sleeve. Panicking, you tussle with the hand before its strength inevitably wins over, and succeeds in revealing the blood trickling and clotting on your arm. 

Wednesday’s eyes widen as she kneels next to you, grabbing your arm. You expected her touch to be cold and rough, but it is simply gentle as she asks.

“Who hurt you?”

Refusing to answer, you don’t meet her gaze. It’s obvious you’re blushing and you’re feeling embarrassed that she sees you as being so weak. 

“I said, who hurt you?” She repeats, putting her hand to your face and turning it to face hers. 

“Nobody,” you stammer, voice cracking as her gaze falls on your bloodied fingernails. 

“Don’t,” is all she says, letting her hand fall. You hug your knees. “I don’t do it. Ever. I-It was an accident,” you lie, biting your lip and pulling your sleeve down again, wincing. 

“What were you reading?” Wednesday says, changing the topic. You glance at your book. “Just a horror novel. Nothing much,” you respond, forcing the heat in your cheeks to die down and shoving your anxiety down.

“Stephen King,” Wednesday remarks. Her stiff tone is replaced with a softer one that you haven’t heard before. It makes you want to be closer. But that is unacceptable. 

“Take care of yourself, okay? I’m sure at least Enid would be upset if she saw this,” Wednesday says, making direct eye contact. You feel your heart flare as you nod. 

Then she’s gone, the hand going with her. 

That night, you sit in your dorm, typing an essay on your laptop. Your side of the room, while preferably would be covered in shades of red or yellow, is coated in pale blues and grays; your roommate Bianca, decorated it and refused to change it, so your attempts to show your personality were useless.

Speaking of the devil, Bianca is sitting on her bed, painting her nails, and admiring herself in her mirror. You try to turn yourself away from her; simply interacting with her gives you intense anxiety. After using her siren song to force you into hurting yourself as a joke, trust is an abstract concept between the two of you, so you try not to talk to her, which is hard to do since she’s so full of herself.

“So, Y/N, did you meet that new freak today?” Bianca smirks, not taking her eyes off her nails. “The goth girl with an appendage for a friend?” You don’t respond, feeling your heart pounding at the mention of Wednesday. You let out a sigh of frustration. Why can’t you just be mysterious and not transparent for once in your life?

“Did you hear me? I asked you a question,” Bianca turns to face you. You still don’t respond, not wanting to provoke a reaction. You turn up the music to drown her out, smiling faintly when you can’t hear her piercing voice. 

You let out a cry of fear and surprise when the collar of your shirt is grabbed, and you’re yanked backwards and onto the floor.

“Listen to me when I say this,” Bianca says, kneeling beside you as you gasp for air, rubbing the new ring around your neck. “Respond to me when I talk to you. Did you meet the new girl today?” She repeats, tone cold. 

Unfortunately for you, the force of the blow and the fear of the pain you’ve already suffered is too much, and you feel your breaths start coming in gasps as you try to get a grip. 

“Because the word around here is that you’ve got a thing for her,” Bianca smirks. You don’t respond; you can’t. Your heart is racing faster than a cheetah and you can barely breath since your lungs are heaving for oxygen. 

“I said, respond to me when I talk to you,” Bianca says stiffly, standing and grasping her siren necklace. 

The next day passes quickly. You don’t go to your dorm once. Classes suck; you can barely pay attention due to your throbbing head. The abuse that you suffered last night overtakes any attention span that you might have had otherwise. It doesn’t matter anyway since you don’t get much of your homework done on a normal basis. 

You avoid Wednesday and Enid; it isn’t as if you don’t want to hang out with them, but rather you don’t want them to worry about you since the dorm party is tonight. Aside from the now bandaged gouges from yesterday, you now have a throbbing head, and a long scar on your collarbone. You can’t remember what Bianca did to you; but you know that it was controlled and self-inflicted.

You knock on Enid’s dorm door, which is opened by Enid herself. The room is decorated with brightly colored lanterns, except for the right side, which is dark and pale. You carry a small book; a horror novel by Stephen King for Wednesday, and a plushie for Enid, as gifts. 

“Welcome! You can put your stuff over on the table. You ready to get this party started?” Enid giggles, dragging you over to the carpet on the floor. Ajax is the only one there so far, and its comical to see how hard she’s crushing on him.

Wednesday is sitting on her bed, observing what’s happening in the room. You wave at her a bit and she nods at you, gaze flickering to your collarbone and hardening for a second. Nervous, you break away from her stare and sit down on the carpet opposite Ajax.

“So..what are we going to do tonight?” You ask Enid, who flops dramatically onto the rug in front of you. 

“Normal party games. Truth or Dare, Skeletons in the Closet…Spin the Bottle,” Enid blushes, glancing at Ajax. You nod, not paying much attention as you feel Wednesday’s stare burning into your neck, almost as painful as the marks on your collarbone. You pull your shirt higher over the marks so that they’re impossible to see.

Bianca and Yoko arrive, and the party begins. Snacks are passed around, followed by drinks, which you politely refuse. Light banter takes up the first forty five minutes before Ajax finally complains,

“Enid you said this party's be lit! Let’s play something for once!” 

“Okay fine then! Spin the Bottle first, though,” Enid giggles. The snacks and drinks clearly have had an effect on us; we’re feeling pretty loose and drowsy, so nobody objects.

A bottle is retrieved and placed in the middle of the rug while you arrange yourselves in a small circle around it. Your heart is starting to thump in your chest. You don’t care who you have to kiss as long as it isn’t Bianca. When the siren makes eye contact with you, you flinch as she smirks at your collarbone, even though it is concealed.

“Hey Wednesday, are you going to play with us?” Enid calls Wednesday, who is sitting on her bed still. 

“If I must,” she responds, seating herself next to you. You have a nagging feeling that she didn’t join the game just to play. Your theory is confirmed as she continues glancing at your collarbone, and you feel your cheeks returning to that typical shade of red you receive whenever you’re around her.

The bottle is spun. People are kissed. Yoko and Enid. Bianca and Ajax. Vice versa. It goes around for a while before it is your turn. You spin it, and it lands on Ajax. Thank God. You give each other a quick peck, everyone around you giggling, except for Wednesday. 

Another round is played. Music hums in the background, easing your social anxiety as you watch Enid and Bianca kiss, and then Yoko and Ajax. The room is considerably more giggly and drunk when Bianca spins. Your heart begins to pound and you feel your breath hitch as the bottle end slows and stops pointing at you.

“No,” you whisper, just to yourself. Bianca smirks, clearly drinking in the moment as she stands. “Pucker up, Y/N,” she grins. You shake your head, backing up. Wednesday watches, gaze darting back and forth between you and Bianca. 

“You have to kiss her. It’s the rules,” Ajax says, frowning. Enid says nothing, and Yoko looks on, concerned, flickering in her gaze. Bianca beckons for you to come closer but you shake your head, feeling your breathing speed up.

Not now. Please not now. The world rocks around you and you stumble to your feet as you stagger off to the side,

“I-I just need a sec-” you gasp, opening the closet door by Enid’s bed, and shutting it, locking yourself inside. You try going through your breathing exercises, but you’re beginning to spiral, which is never a good sign. You don’t want to play Spin the Bottle. Or Skeletons in the Closet. What if everyone finds out you have a thing for Wednesday?

You slap a hand over your mouth as a sob escapes, burying your head in your arms as your lungs heave, straining for any traces of oxygen that aren’t coming as they should. You can hear the guests in the dorm murmuring with concern as Enid clears her throat,

“Well um…let’s just give her some space until she’s feeling a bit better…and maybe let’s play a different game.”

They guests murmur in approval. You hear footsteps approaching the closet and your panic increases, assuming it’s Bianca come to rub her smugness in your face. As the door opens, your eyes widen when you see Wednesday.

She closes the door and drops beside you in silence as you fight for breath while you furiously wipe a tear from your eye. The pain Bianca inflicted the night before is piling onto the tightness in your chest. 

“It’s okay,” Wednesday says quietly, scooting a bit closer as you fight for breath. You try to push her away, even though it’s what you so desperately want and need. “D-don’t please…y-you don’t have t-to…” you gasp, sobs mixing with your racing breaths. “I know it’s hard but try to focus on my breathing, okay?” She murmurs, deeply inhaling and exhaling. She takes your hand and gently places it against her chest so you can feel her breathing.

Slowly you start calming down, breathing wise. As you’re able to draw in more oxygen, you cover your mouth with your hands as the tears begin to flow. 

“I’m sorry….” you sob, looking at Wednesday, whose normally expressionless face is drawn back in concern. 

“For what?”

“You shouldn’t have to worry about me,” you let yourself cry, burying your face in your hands. Your breath hitches as Wednesday wraps her arms around your waist. The affectionate touch shatters the bottle in which you’ve held your emotions and anxiety, and you bury your head in her shoulder, hiccups and gasps following your muffled sobs. Wednesday holds you tighter, one hand threading itself into your hair as she whispers to you.

You’re crying too hard to focus on what Wednesday is saying, but her touch is so comforting that you can’t help but lean into it. You don’t care that you like her. You just want to be loved. When the tears finally dry, you find yourself tangled in each other's arms, listening to the deep breathing as if in a trance.

“I’m sorry if I made things uncomfortable,” you sniff, wiping your face on your sleeve. 

“They never were,” Wednesday murmurs. “What are these?” Wednesday says, running her hands over your arms. Now that your jacket is gone, all the self-inflicted wounds are revealed. You flinch, and avoid her gaze, shaking your head.

Wednesday gently takes your face in her hands, tilting it to meet her eyes. “Y/N, why are you hurting yourself?” She murmurs, eyes choked with emotion. 

“I have really bad anxiety, and uh…whenever it gets really bad I end up hurting myself to try and get it to stop but that kinda only makes it worse…” you admit quietly, letting out another small sob. Wednesday says nothing, but pulls you closer to her, allowing you to curl up next to her. She runs her hand through your hair, stroking it softly. 

“Can we not tell anyone about this?” you murmur. She nods, slowly letting go of you. You feel disappointment coursing through you as she does; it felt so good to be in that pose. You decide not to tell her about how much you long for physical attention. She’s already been going out of the way to help you too much.

“Let’s get out of this closet,” Wednesday says. Her face returns to the typical slack expression as she stands. You do too, trying to wipe your face of tears as she does of emotion. She opens the door.

Enid, Ajax, Yoko, and Bianca are lounging around the room. The lights are dimmer now, and the music is a bit louder. Clearly the party has hit its stride; everyone is either drowsy or drunk. You don’t make eye contact with anyone until Enid looks at you, mouthing ‘are you okay?’. You nod at her, and she gives you a thumbs up before returning to her drowsy conversation with Yoko about the Poe Cup or something.

Wednesday gives your hand a small squeeze before leaving you to sit on her side of the room; which is completely deserted; it makes sense since half the people at Nevermore think she’s a serial killer. 

As she lays on her bed, she thinks about you. She might have a crush on you, but she doesn’t know whether or not you don’t like her or fear her. Sure she comes off as a serial killer, but she isn’t that bad. When she comforted you, she actually felt an emotion other than emptiness for once. She wants to be there for you. And for the first time ever, she might be scared to admit it. 

The rest of the party goes normally. Presents are opened. Thank-you's are exchanged. Enid adores the stuffie you gave her and holds it all night. When Wednesday receives her gift, the only one that isn’t absolutely ridiculous or ill-fitting, her eyebrows lift slightly in recognition and she looks at you, nodding in thanks. You smile back, blushing.

Finally, the mood fades, everyone exhausted or too drunk to really do anything. It makes you smirk to see Bianca drunk. As everyone prepares for bed, you retrieve your sleeping bag from the door, where all the bags had been placed. When you go to put it down, you realize that the only actually available spot is next to Bianca.

You deeply inhale, biting your lip to try to keep yourself from shaking as you unroll your sleeping bag next to her neon blue one. She smirks loosely at you, but doesn’t say anything. Shivering from the cold and the adrenaline you’re trying to quiet, you slip into the bag as Enid turns the lights off and the room is thrown into silence.

Soon, deep breathing from different parts of the room begin to echo, signaling that most of the others have fallen asleep. You, on the other hand, are restless. Slight twinges of fear poke at your side, particularly the side Bianca is sleeping on. Throughout the night you toss back and forth, trying to find a comfortable position while that quite insistent voice of fear repeatedly bugs you, making it impossible for you to find rest. The darkness isn’t helping. So when you hear a whisper in the dark, it takes you a second to comprehend whether or not it was real.

“Can’t sleep?”

You open your eyes and squint in the darkness to see Wednesday sitting cross-legged on her bed, her back against the wall. You nod at her. 

“Me neither,” she says quietly. You don’t say anything, but she looks at you as if she can see everything you’re feeling. After a couple of moments, she beckons with her head for you to come over. You slowly sit up, glancing at Bianca’s sleeping form every now and then before crawling over to Wednesday’s side of the room, which is comfortably empty.

“You’re avoiding Bianca.” She murmurs to you as you lean against her bed frame. You nod, not making eye contact as you look at the sleeping forms on Enid’s side. “Is that why you can’t sleep?” 

You nod again, not saying what goes unspoken between you two. “Um…I’m not feeling so great…could I maybe sleep with you?” you mumble, blushing as she looks at you and nods, scooting to the side to give you more room. 

#wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday series #fanfiction things

[pocket-ozwynn]

Love Isn’t Fragile

Y’all are amazing 🥺 thank you so much for your support and participation with my survey that I posted! This prompt was one that was y’all had voted on to see, and I was more than happy to oblige! I admit, I tweaked the prompt a smidge but I’m still happy with the results. Stay tuned for the other two prompts I mentioned in that post! Until then, enjoy! 💖

---

[Emotional Shifter!AU]

Word Count: 1341

Note: There is intense descriptions with Alice’s involuntary Size-Shifting with similar symptoms to panic attacks. While this definitely is still a hurt/comfort piece, the beginning leans heavily towards the former.

The air was yanked from his lungs as Alice plummeted. The entire room shot upwards as if he reached terminal velocity, and yet his feet remained on terra firma. Anxiety swelled as he physically diminished.

“No no no no…” Alice breathed as he clutched his chest. His phone slipped out of his free hand and fell to the ground with a clatter.

His heart was pounding so fast, he worried it would surely crack ribs. His eyes widened in horror as he grew smaller...and smaller...and smaller still.

Though the panic was familiar, it was no less crushing. 

His bones felt like someone was crumpling tin foil and his skin grew hot. What first felt like errant tears erupted into inevitable sobs as he trembled. He fought back the need to cough up his heart. He clutched his biceps and dug his fingertips into the muscle. He couldn’t stop shaking as the floor rushed up and expanded beneath him.

Finally, it stopped.

Alice felt sick as he tried adjusting to his new size. His crying had quieted, but only because his skull tingled with fatigue and his lungs ached. He staggered a bit as he tried to walk, but his knees nearly gave out from under him. Alice wanted to scream, but a whimper was all he could manage.

He remembered the last time he got even remotely close to this small. It was in public, he and Maura were getting dinner. He remembered the look on her face, the words she had for him when they got back out to the car. Maura never did let him forget how humiliating that was for her. And even though he hadn’t seen Maura in years, that pain wriggled its way from his memory and hooked itself into his heart. 

His brain felt so loud. 

He steadied his breathing and furiously wiped the tears from his eyes–the worst of it had passed, but he knew it’d take some time to recompose himself. With any luck, he could try running a hot bath or something to calm down–maybe that’d help be a little more presentable for when Freyja got home. It’d also give him some time to let his eyes get a bit less puffy and red. Maybe he could even-

Alice froze as the floor shook. 

Panic flared back up as Alice realized the cause of the quaking. It was too late, Freyja was home. In the tumult of his own thoughts, he must’ve missed the sound of her motorcycle pulling up.

What would she think if she saw him like this? 

Less of a man…weak…she won’t accept you…

And even though words had never been uttered by a single soul, their fabricated edges still cut deep. 

Alice couldn’t will himself to move as Freyja came through the front door. She had her helmet under one arm and a bag of groceries in the other. Her hair was a bit matted, but she smiled brightly as she did a cursory glance across the front of their apartment.

“Hey babe!” Freyja called out as she reached back with her boot to kick the door closed behind her. “I’m hom-”

Freyja didn’t finish her sentence. She tipped her head curiously as she seemed to look straight at Alice. His heart raced. How could she even see him? There’s no way she could’ve spotted him from so high up without even knowing that Alice could shrink this small.

Then he remembered his cell phone. He’d dropped it before he shrank. It was right next to him.

For a few breathless moments, Freyja just stood there and studied the phone quizzically. Her brow furrowed slightly as she regarded it. And despite him holding as still as possible, her eyes flicked just enough to the side to spy her shrunken sweetheart. Realization hit Freyja like a bucket of ice water. “Alice?”

Alice bolted as he failed to choke back a cry. He knew he couldn’t outrun Freyja, but maybe he could find someplace to hide. Maybe he could hide under the couch? 

Far behind him he heard Freyja drop helmet and groceries in the entryway like an avalanche of plastic and produce. “WAIT, BABE!” The floor SHOOK as Freyja took big, long strides to catch up to him–each sprinter’s bound sent a jolt up Alice’s frame as he felt her footfalls grow closer.

Alice could barely see through his fresh tears. So it it caught him off guard when finally managed to wipe his tears away to now see Freyja’s gigantic fingers in front of him. He yelled as her as he tried backpedaling to avoid them as they curled inwards to grab him, but ran straight into her thumb. He scrambled in his attempts to get out and around her closing grasp, 

“Hey…” Freyja carefully rose with him cupped in her hands. But even as she tried to defuse the panic, Alice was squirming to the point where he was getting dangerously close to the edge of her palm.

“HEY!” Freyja gasped as she fumbled with her diminutive boyfriend. She hissed and swore as he nearly fell off. Finally, Freyja wrapped her fingers into a gentle fist to hold him snug. Alice writhed frantically within her grasp in a panicked attempt to escape.

Seeing that Alice was still going to writhe, Freyja tightened her grip–not overly tight, but just enough to try and still him. It shocked Alice at first. He felt like it should have been terrifying to be squeezed like that–or that such a sensation would only compound onto the crushing weight he felt in his lungs…but it felt surprisingly grounding. His limbs were pinned to his sides, so he could do little else but force himself to relax within her grasp. He tried focusing on how his heartbeat felt pressed up against the muscle of Freyja’s finger.

“I gotcha baby, it’s okay,” Freyja rumbled low as she brought him up close to her face. Her other hand was kept close, for extra security should he slip out. Freyja studied him carefully. “Can you please take some deep breaths for me? Here, we’ll do ‘em together.”

Alice nodded–mercy, it felt like his head was going to fall off his neck he felt so lightheaded–and obliged. He took some deep breaths and focus on Freyja’s massive, pale green eyes. Freyja matched her breathing with his to silently direct how big she wanted his breaths to be.

“Alice…are you okay?” Freyja eased up her grip just enough for Alice to move his arms if he wanted. “You’ve never been this small before...what happened? Is something wrong?”

A wave of new emotion: guilt. Alice felt guilty that he had allowed Freyja to see him like this. Alice swallowed. “N-No…I’m not okay…” He slipped his arms out and gently rested them upon her finger. As he looked down, he dug his fingers into the massive muscle as he set his jaw. He fought back tears as he hissed through clenched teeth. “I-I’m sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?” Freyja chided softly with a loving chuckle as she brought him down to rest against her chest. Alice shivered as he was pressed against the leather of her jacket. He could feel her heart beating. He could feel her deep, swelling breaths as she gathered her thoughts. 

“It’s okay that you’re not okay,” Freyja reminded. “I’m here for you on the good days and bad days…no matter what size you are. My love for you isn’t fragile, Alice Beauchamp. Got that?”

Alice choked back a sob of…not relief, per se. But an emotion close to it. He buried his face into the leather and tried to focus on the beating of her heart. He nodded, “I...I got it. Th-thank you Frey...” Alice sighed softly and gingerly kissed her jacket, as if hoping the meager kiss would make it down towards that mighty heart of hers. Perhaps in reply, Freyja’s heart seemed to beat a bit faster.

“Good.” Freyja hummed. “C’mon…let’s take a hot bath. That always seems to help…”

#Emotional Shifter!AU #ogtoc Freyja #ogtoc Alice #wholesome giantess #g/t #giant/tiny #gt writing #g/t writing #hurt/comfrt #gt hurt/comfort #g/t hurt/comfort #size-shifter

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

Hey bestie can u make a eren x reader one shot where eren just won’t let the reader move on🙃

thank u anon for this lovely idea

scumbag!eren x crybaby!fem!reader

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon, past toxic relationship, slut-shaming, possessive behavior, yandere tendencies,

WC: 1.8k

He pins your wrists against the dingy bathroom tiles with an unrelenting grip, and you swear you've never felt more claustrophobic in your life.

The dark-haired boy eyes the glitter on your cheekbones, the neon-colored eyeliner, the rogue on your lips, and the black satin of your mini dress exposing a substantial amount of plush thighs. He's never seen you like this-never allowed you like this before.

You almost feel like uncharted territory but nothing escapes his observant nature. From the tremble of your lips, and the water starting to collect in your lower lash lines, Eren knows this you. Maybe not who you were pretending to be in the strappy heels, low neckline, and the party-girl masquerade you put on in front of your shallow ditzy friends, but he knows who you really are. Vulnerable. Scared of your own shadow.

"E-eren,' You stammer, "Please let me go." You try not to think about the voice cracks, trying to sound as assertive as you could without meeting his eyes. Eren, of course, thinks you look like a baby mouse. Hopeless and trapped.

"Don’t you miss me?" He mummers into the nape of your neck. You have an explosive No prepared in the roof of your mouth, ready to sound out the single syllable, until his hand, adorned with chunky silver rings, covers your mouth, muffling your whimpers. You could taste the metal.

“It’s a rhetorical question.” He’s smirking, green eyes lit up dangerously under the too-white bright lights, “Let me talk okay? I just want you to listen.”

All you’ve ever been doing is letting him walk and talk over you. And then when you finally got the nerve to stand up for yourself-

“I haven’t seen you the past three months” his low voice interrupts your contemplation, “It’s like you’ve been ignoring me.” He finishes flatly, his thin lips stretched into a line. His multitude of ear piercings catches the light, glinting sharply.

It’s too overpowering, his close proximity after going cold turkey. His presence is like a drag of a cigarette after not smoking for months. Hurts your lungs but the remnants of what you used to feel with the sudden rush of nicotine bubbling up again. Because when all is said and done, you’re still deliriously attracted to him. And you hate yourself for it.

You try to focus on the other sensations, sensations that aren’t busy on the feel of his warm breath or his hands holding yours down. You can still hear the song playing from the club.

All my bitches feel like I dodged the county

Fucking with you feel like jail n——-

Yeah, it really did.

Changing tactics, he holds you by your neck instead, giving your aching wrists sweet relief but that relief is nothing compared to the panic of having his beefy hand on your thrumming pulse.

His grasp wasn’t tight. You could breathe, but it was the kind of tight that let you know he would go tighter if you didn’t listen properly. React properly.

“You’re fucking ignoring me again” he’s practically growling the words out, baring all teeth, “I know I’m pretty difficult to tune out, so I would like to know what the fuck you’re thinking about.”

His hand leaves your delicate throat- his knee between your thighs keeps you in place- to roam down the satin of your dress, the fabric clinging to every curve. You hate how scrutinizing his viridian eyes are, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over the previous hot-girl-summer confidence.

He hated how good you looked on the dance floor, laughing with your stupid friends like you had lost all your inhibitions. Hated that you looked so good, everyone could see it. Hated how you didn't notice his eyes boring holes into you. Do you remember the time how you used to be hyper-focused around him? Aware of every movement, aware of every tonal shift?

And now you didn't even look at him.

"Are you thinking of other guys? I saw you grinding on those men like a slut." He presses his body deeper, "Have you fucked any other guys since we broke up? You must have. I know how slutty your pussy is"

You bite down on his hand. Hard.

You're counting on his reflexes, for him to retract his hand and give you an opportunity to run to the door. But Eren has been fighting for years and predicts your maneuver. With a calculated sidestep, Eren lets go of his hand, before promptly slamming you against the bathroom wall again but this time front-first.

Clouds dance in your vision, and you're sure you would have fallen by now if not for him holding you up. Eren uses this newfound position to his advantage by groping your ass, rutting his dick against your backside.

Deciding to be petty, you let the spite-coated venom escape your pretty lips, "Yeah. I fucked so many boys, and they were so much better than y-"

Anger blinded him. Roughly, he turned you around to face him once more, forcing you to look up at the green-eyed monster. He flipped your dress up, nearly ripping it during the process, shoved your lacy panty aside, and plunged his fingers inside. He felt a visceral sense of validation course through him at finding wetness coating his slender fingers to your utter mortification.

"Liar. I know you haven't been fucking anyone else." His smile is all teeth, pearly white and sharp,

You gulp, feeling sweat beading down your neck and arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach. Damn yourself.

"You don't know that."

He looks almost feral, green eyes in slits and hair all mussed up, falling out of his usual bun. The top few buttons of his black button-up are left unfastened giving you a gracious view of his smooth muscular chest, and the dangling silver cross-chain.

"No, I do. See a little birdie told me all you've been doing the past few months is crying yourself to sleep, and eating frozen meals. This is the first time you've been out since I broke up with you, huh?" Condescension drips with every word.

He thumbs away the tear falling down your cheek with a mocking kindness and adds, "There, there. Don't cry. Good thing I happened to be here tonight, right?"

You're full-blown crying now, too upset to care if you're smudging your make-up. This is the real you. This is how Eren remembers you.

"Awe, my precious little crybaby, don't worry. You came here tonight looking for dick? I'll give it to you. It's okay," He coos, breath tickling the shell of your sensitive ears. Well, every part of you felt sensitive right now.

You're rubbing your eyes, sniffling, "E-exactly. You b-broke up with me, so why are you here? Why can't you just let me be?"

The dark-haired boy sighs, and with an uncharacteristic softness, leans his head down to press his forehead against yours, and intertwines his hand with yours, noses almost touching.

"To be honest, it was just to teach you a lesson." A soft exhale, "I didn't think you'd actually stay broken up with me." He's crushing your fingers now, "Didn't think we'd be broken up with for real."

Your eyes flash with indignation, feeling your body surge with an emotion you couldn't qualify, "I don't care. Yeah, I was sad but god, you were a terrible boyfriend! I'm so much better off without you. All those lonely nights are still better than any night I've ever had with you!"

You're breathless by the time you're done.

"Done with your little monologue?"*

You can feel your shoulders shaking, and you almost want to laugh from the indecorousness of it all. How could he not care? Was this how little you mattered to him?

"I know you're lying because" Without any preamble, he shoves his fingers inside of you again, finding that spongy spot that made your knees weak, eliciting a soft moan from your downturned mouth, "You're wet. And you want me."

"In fact," an edge of excitement colors his voice, "I bet your insides are still molded to fit my dick."

It's hard to talk when one thumb is violently brushing over your clit, and his tongue is forced into your mouth, drowning any whines of protests. You close your eyes, focusing and unfocusing. A hand snakes up your dress to fondle your tits and tease your perky nipples.

It's just one sensation over another, and your sex-deprived body was welcoming all these feelings with open arms. Eren knows your body like it came with an instruction manual and that manual advised him to bite your earlobe, which was especially sensitive. He knew where on your collarbone you liked to be marked, how hard you wanted your nipples pinched, and how you could ride his face with complete abandon.

But right now, he didn't want to pleasure you. He's coaxed enough orgasms out of you throughout your relationship.

He unbuckles his belt and frees his long slender cock, the head a flushed angry red, dribbling with precum. He lines his full-mast cock to your entrance. Fully alert as to what was about to happen, pretty pleas of "no Eren, please don't, no" are falling out of your mouth, wide starlit eyes dotted with pearlescent tears. He kisses the top of your head like the way he always used to.

And then he thrusts himself inside. You give up so easily, he thinks. Do you even realize how you're swinging your hips on your own accord? How you're wrapping your lush legs around his waist to pull him deeper?

His pace is ruthless, making your head bob up and down. Moans and grunts drown out the music from the club. You're begging him to slow down.

"You're mine. Always mine. Always were. Can't fucking believe you really thought-" He doesn't even finish his thought because a violent shudder rips throughout his body.

Your nails are digging into his back, so sharp it could have been clawed. You could feel yourself right on the edge-

The door shakes to reveal a tall young man with slicked-back blond hair with a frat-boy laugh.

"Holy shit! Eren?!"

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkcufkcufckfuckfuckfuckfuc

Shame burns your face. You have no choice but to cover yourself behind Eren's broad frame. You're just hoping to every god he'll go away, and keep this to himself.

Your dark-haired ex-boyfriend turns around to face the blond, "A little busy here, Porco. Shut the door. I'm uh, getting reacquainted with someone."

"Goddamn. Is that ___" You don't even have to look at Porco to recognize how impressed he was.

"Get out Porco." Eren growls.

The door closes with a loud thud.

You're borderline hysterical at this point begging Eren to get out of you, but his grip on your hips is iron-tight.

Outside you hear stunned gasps, but one phrase stands out to your straining ears: "Yeah, I guess they're back together."

Eren kisses the top of your head once more, "After I fuck you, we'll go home together girlfriend."

----------

* {A/N}: This line "Done with your little monologue?" is inspired by this delicious fic by @hotwings0203.

#yandere eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #toxic eren #eren yeager x reader fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #dubcon tw #tw noncon

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Revelation

Breach Masterlist

Warnings: non/dubcon sex (series), general angst, some blood and anger this chapter.

This is dark!Winter Soldier/Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Note: SURPRISE! I somehow got this done this morning so voila!

I won’t demand but do ask for feedback; likes, reblogs, replies, comments, asks, especially on this series, but again, enjoy in your own way! <3 Love you!

A six-hour car ride and a brief flight saw you at a second safehouse; bigger and isolated from the world in a nest of trees. Steve accompanied you alone as Howard disappeared to ‘sort out business’. You watched and listened to it all, always keeping Luka close.

Your room was as big as one of the houses you’d lived in during your days in South America. Luka wanted to stay with you and you wouldn’t have let him sleep anywhere else. James, or Bucky, whoever he was those days, looked grim as he commented how nice it would be for you to have your privacy. You didn’t dare ask him to stay in the room though you wanted it. You had grown used to his presence.

You slept the first night soundly, waking only once or twice to look at the door. The usual shadow wasn’t there. That made you frown and run your fingers through Luka’s hair. You were safe now but that wouldn’t last, it never did.

You woke yawning, the hours of sleep reminding your body of its long-hewn fatigue. You could have slept for days. You peeked out into the hallway and Luka pushed past you, sprinting out the door. You followed him and called him back to you with a reprimand. He was excited about all the new places.

“Mishka, you stay close, we’re only going to get some breakfast,” you said as you took his hand.

“Mama, this place is so big! I wanna stay here forever,” he sang as he tugged on your arm.

“Why, so you can tear the walls down?” you tutted, “What has gotten into you?”

“Papa’s friend, Steve, he told me he fights the bad guys,” Luka swung your arm, “will he fight the ones who hurt you and Papa?”

You stopped just outside the kitchen. You turned Luka to you and bent to look him in his face. “What men, mishka?”

“The one’s we’re running from,” he said innocently.

You gulped and cradled his face in your hands, “don’t you worry about that, my love, me and your father will always keep you safe.”

The boy looked confused but didn’t ask more, he only nodded and you stood with a sigh. You took his hand again and pulled him into the kitchen. You sat him on one of the tall chairs along the island counter and searched the fridge. You poured each of you a bowl of Cheerios and pushed his across to him as you leaned on the other side of the counter and spooned up the cereal.

“You’re here,” James’ voice startled you as he came to a sharp stop just inside the doorway, “you weren’t in your room, I was--”

“You said we’re safe here,” you lowered your spoon, “Luka was hungry.”

“We are safe,” he exhaled and slowly crossed the room to stand at the end of the counter.

“You want some?” you shook the box at him.

“Eat,” he took it and grabbed a bowl of his own, “I’ll get it.”

He added milk and sat beside Luka. Your son smiled at him and received a goofy look in return. There were moments James wasn’t so guarded but those were always reserved for your son, never you. When he looked at you, you only saw his guilt and pain.

“Howard will be here at noon,” James said as he turned back to you and stirred his bowl, “I’ll talk to them first.”

“Talk?” you asked.

“They need to know… everything,” he said reluctantly, “you watch over Luka while I’m with them and try not to worry. We can trust Steve.”

You nodded and scooped another spoonful into your mouth. You chewed and stared at the counter. That wasn’t what you were worried about, how could you explain all that had happened?

✰

After you ate, you took Luka to the living room and Bucky left you again. After some giddy pleas from your son, you turned on the television. There were few times in his life, and yours, that you had the luxury of a screen. You sat and watched puppets spell and count for a while before you grew bored.

Luka tired of the wooden car he’d outgrown a while ago and jumped on the couch. You tried to get him to stop but only found yourself out of breath.

“Mishka! You will break it,” you caught him mid-leap and swung him down onto his feet, “why don’t we play a game?”

“Oooh, hide and seek!” he chimed.

“I don’t know, that might not--”

“Please, papa hates that game but it’s so fun,” he clapped, “please, mama.”

“It is fun when you can only hide in the broom closet. You will get lost in here.”

“Promise, mama, I will not go far, please?”

You sniffed and stared into his hopeful eyes, James’ eyes. “You stay on this floor and do not go past the stairs, understood?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he squealed, “now mama, you have to close your eyes. No peeking.”

“I know how this game works,” you sat and covered your face with your hands, “thirty seconds, mishka.”

“Thirty?” he whined.

“Twenty-nine, twenty-eight…”

You heard his feet stamp away and you smiled, counting louder with each number. When you reached one you got up and went to the hall. You looked up and down for any telltale sign of him. Nothing was different.

You went to the kitchen and searched all the cupboards and the pantry. He wasn’t in there. As you checked the closets and still did not find him, you felt the panic rising in your throat. Your heart hammered as you ran around the stairs, he hadn’t listened!

You heard a voice, a high pitch you knew well. The front door was open just a crack and you ripped it open as you followed Luka’s sing-song. He sang a Russian tune you taught him as he was carried on the back of a dark-haired man. You ran across the porch and past the armored car in the lot.

You tore Luka from the stranger’s back and both cried out in surprise. You put your son down as the man turned to you. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and punched him as hard as you could, just as James taught you. You heard the crack of his nose as you pulled back again.

“You take my son!” you snarled as he put his arm up to block your next strike and your hand gleaned off his chin, “my son! I will kill you.”

“Mama, mama,” you felt Luka tugging at your pants.

“Go inside, Luka,” you barked ready to strangle the man.

“He’s wasn’t taking me, mama, we were playing,” Luka begged, “he’s just a kid, like me.”

You stopped and looked the man in the face. Luka was right, he was sixteen, maybe seventeen, familiar even. You growled and let him go hesitantly. You pulled Luka close to you.

“Who are you?”

“I should ask you the same,” the adolescent stemmed the blood leaking from his nostrils with the heel of his hand and tilted his head back, “you sure pack a punch, lady.”

“Who?” you stepped forward again and he backed away.

“Tony,” he snorted and turned to spit up blood onto the ground, “Tony Stark, Howard’s son.”

“Howard?” you blinked, “oh, I--” you looked down at Luka who looked terrified, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I-- let me help you clean up.”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” he chuckled and backed away from you, “I think I can handle this.”

“Mama,” Luka huffed.

“I’m sorry, mishka, I did not know,” you grimaced, “I so very sorry, I really--” you looked at Tony again.

“I’m fine,” he pulled his cuff up to his nose, “really, I shouldn’t have just taken the kid.”

“I couldn’t find him, I was so scared, I--”

“Luka,” James’ voice drew you around. He stood on the porch and descended the steps carefully as he took in the scene, “what’s going on? What are you doing out here?”

“Playing a game,” you said as Tony shook his head.

“What happened to the kid?” James asked as he pointed at the bloodied teen.

“Your wife, that’s what happened,” Tony spat.

“She’s not--

“I thought he was taking Luka,” you interrupted James, “I’m sorry, I--”

“It’s okay,” he took Luka’s hand and pulled the boy close, “you did what I showed you,” he turned to the younger Stark, “you should get that cleaned up or it’ll stay crooked.”

“Uh huh,” Tony dragged his feet through the dirt towards the house, “such a pleasant little family.”

You watched him go and hung your head. You felt awful and held up your shaky hand, your knuckles sore from the assault. Bucky took your hand and looked it over.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I hurt him,” you said, “I hurt a kid.”

“He’s fine,” James assured, “I’ll talk to Stark, it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry, papa, we were playing hide and seek and I didn’t tell mama I was going outside--”

“I told you not to play that game,” James looked down at Luka, “this is why, because you scare us.”

“I’m sorry,” Luka repeated.

“Well, everyone’s safe so…” he rubbed his forehead with his gloved hand as his eyes met yours, “it’s your turn, I’ll keep and eye on Luka.”

“My turn?”

“Upstairs, they’re waiting,” James said and raised his hand as if he would touch your shoulder but instead dropped it, “answer the question but you don’t need to talk about what you don’t want to.”

You nodded and swallowed as you looked past him to the front door. There were no questions they could ask that you didn’t dread.

✰

Howard and Steve sat on the other side of the table. It felt like a real interrogation, like you’d done something wrong. And yet, as you explained your time at Hydra, from employee to experiment, neither seemed to flinch, they listened and took notes but did not show the horror you felt.

“Do you know what they were doing to your son the day of your escape?” Stark asked.

“No, I was… sedated for much of it, they took him from me and--” you shook your head, “I was so angry, I never been so angry and when I woke I felt invincible and when the doctor came, I would’ve killed him, I think.”

“And I know it’s probably a moot question but you don’t know what they were giving you? The capsules, the drip?”

“I never seen the charts,” you shrugged and looked down. 

Your hands were trembling and you were overwhelmed. It was the first time you said any of it aloud and once you started, it streamed out like a river. Now that it was all out, the emotions began to flow too.

Then the realisation and the fear. It was, easy even for you, to guess what Hydra intended for your son. He was to be like his father, more efficient than his father. You lifted your head, terrified, and glanced between the men furtively.

“My son is not a weapon,” you said, “know that and do not make him one.”

“That is not our intent,” Steve assured softly, “that is not the type of weapon we use. That’s why we’re here, away from SHIELD, away from Hydra, we can’t let this happen to anyone else but given what we know, this experiment wasn’t just shelved. There are others out there and we need to get to them before another Winter Soldier appears.”

“But how… me and James hide for so long,” you said, “we cannot possibly know--”

Steve’s throat constricted and he looked at Howard. They weren’t telling you something.

“What you have told us today is all we need from you,” Stark said evenly, “It is a start for us to uncover the rest.”

“Uncover?” you blinked and frowned, “what do you mean uncover?”

“You and James have given us locations, details, security procedure,” Stark continued, “with that, we can gain access to the information we do need and find out where they’ve moved their new Soldat operation--”

“No,” you snapped as your chest squeezed, “you would send him back there?”

“We didn’t say--”

“You don’t tell me but you think I am stupid. I know James and I know he feels so bad he would go back to die,” you snarled, “he did nothing wrong. It was not him!”

“But… you, uh, he--” Howard began awkwardly.

“Hydra did that, Hydra made him that monster and he doesn’t not owe you anything. He killed the men who would take my child from me and he kept Luka safe, he is done.”

“Look, Bucky is my best friend and I understand, it wasn’t him, but he did those things, even if it wasn’t his choice and this is what we can do, this is the deal we can offer you. He gets us that intel and you get your safe haven.”

“And if he doesn’t come back?” you stood and slammed your hands on the table, “you would kill him all over again, Steven.”

Steve reeled as if you’d slapped him and Howard raised as brow as he looked at him from the corner of his eye.

“You friend? Really?” your English became more fractured as your rage rose and you hit the table again, this time leaving a dent in the metal, “you no friend to know what you send him back to. They not kill him, not his body, and they torture his mind.”

“Please, ma’am,” Howard said calmly, “it was his idea--”

“I don’t care, you let him!” you shouted, “You think him evil but I know he not. He save me and he has son. You would let a father die.”

“Just calm--” Steve intoned.

“No, no be calm,” you began to rant in Russian as you turned and stormed to the door.

“Where-- Wait!’ The men stood and followed after you.

“I go James!” you hollered as you strode out into the hall, “he trouble!”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #dark winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #dark!winter soldier #fic #series #breach #dark fic #dark!fic #au #mcu #marvel #captain america

[hwascripts]

Masterlist

WC: Unknown

TW: Cursing, a little angst, mentions of trauma (Levi’s trauma), potential spoilers??? vague mention of Levi having a panic attack, mentions of death

Levi asking you to be his significant other headcanons

What you need in order to be his S/O

-First things first, if you want to be his significant other then you need to be tough, thick skinned, stern, independent, a clean person and incredibly strong willed. Levi doesn’t have the time to take care of you 24/7 

-However that’s not to say he won’t take care of you when you need to be taken care of, just don’t expect him to rush to your beck and call every time you’re in distress.

- You also need to know how to keep your emotions in check because if it’s one thing Levi is damn terrible at- it’s dealing with emotions. I mean- he grew up in the underground and had to harden his heart just to survive down there. I’m not saying he doesn’t care about your feelings, he’s just not the greatest at comforting you when you’re upset because comfort is something he hasn’t felt in a long time. Of course he’ll try his best to make you feel better but don’t expect heartfelt words from his mouth because he shows his love through touch and small acts of kindness.

- You would also need to be friends with him for a long time. I’m talking since Kenny abandoned him type long. I only see him getting together with someone he’s known since childhood or when he first entered the survey corps. Realistically after 10 years of being in the military and seeing so many of his friends die terrible deaths, I don’t picture him opening up emotionally to someone he’s only known for a short period of time.

-I also picture him being really reluctant to ask you to be his S/O because in his world you never know when you’re gonna die. But he goes for it because he realizes if he’s gonna die, he wants to die knowing he spent his life with you.

-Now onto the good stuff!

How he asks you

-Sorry to burst your bubble kids but Levi is the furthest thing from “candle lit dinner on the beach underneath the full moon” he’s closer to “hey we almost died and because of that I’m finally telling you how I feel”

-I imagine it being late at night while everyone else is asleep, you and Levi being the only two captains awake and he walks into the “Captains only meeting room” just a few minutes after you do

-He’d give you a  little hum of acknowledgement and walk over to the back counter where you’re making your favourite tea and just scrunch up your face when he sees what type of tea is brewing

“Really? Peppermint tea? God I don’t know how you drink this shit”

- All you do is roll your eyes as you stir a spoonful of sugar into your cup

“Sorry that some people don’t like black tea, your highness”

-He just let’s out a slightly amused “tch” at the mocking name

-He’ll just watch you for a little as you bustle around the room with quiet footsteps, his eyes following your movements like a hawk.

“What? do I got something on my face?”

-Shit- you caught him looking. He just scoffs and joins you at the table

-”How are your wounds?” he makes light conversation with you to try and distract himself from his sweaty palms. Levi is slowly unraveling before you and he hope’s to the sky above he can admit his feelings before he does something humiliating.

-He can see that you’re about to reply but he cuts you off before you can even formulate a proper sentence.

“Listen, I need to get something off my chest- this shit has been weighing me down for months. Just let me finish before you say anything, I’m losing my damn mind right now”

-His teeth grind together as he tries to form a coherent sentence

“You’re the only person I have left in this shitty world and I’m fucking terrified of losing you. When that bastard titan yanked on your wires I nearly shit out my heart in panic”

-Levi’s face just scrunches up in absolute agony at the thought of you dying right in front of him- you’re the last person he wants to die at the hands of a titan.

“Fuck I’m bad at feelings and shit- what I’m trying to say is that I care about you...I care about you so damn much that when I get nightmares of you the first thing I do is run to your room to check that you’re still breathing”

-Levi is shaking at this point, his eyes are filled with tears that are threatening to fall but he keeps going- he hasn’t told you he loves you yet. 

“God fucking damnit! What I’m trying to say is that I have feelings for you and I can’t hide them anymore because I don’t know how much time either of us have left”

-Cue the waterworks

-This is the first time in all your years of knowing him that you’ve seen him cry- and it scares you shitless because if someone as strong as Levi is full blown sobbing, it must be serious. You didn’t even see him shed a tear when your friends Isabel and Furlan died- just pure anger and murderous rage towards Erwin.

-You’re left completely speechless...how would you even begin to comfort such a broken man? You do the only thing you can think to do and wrap your arms tightly around him while lets out years worth of tears.

-The two of you sit like that for hours, one hand rubbing his back and the other running your fingers through his black hair

“I don’t want a bullshit answer, just give it to me straight- if you don’t want me then tell me right now”

-He looks up at you with bloodshot eyes, cheeks a rosy pink from all the crying and you can feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach

‘‘I’ll stay by your side until the day I take my very last breath, I can promise you that Levi”

-Your thumb caresses his cheek softly and he gives an ultra rare Levi smile

-First order of business now that this relationship is official, you aren’t allowed to drink that shit in a cup you call peppermint tea”

“Pry my peppermint tea from my cold dead hands, you tasteless dumbass”

-He laughs and gently pushes your shoulder. But what the two of you don’t realize is that Hanji overheard everything and is now on her way to tell every living soul about “the two lovebirds”

-Let’s just say that holding Levi back from killing Hanji was much more difficult than killing an abnormal titan

----

Stay tuned for the next Levi headcanons post!

#levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman headcanons #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi fluff #levi angst #levi headcanons #captain levi headcanons #captain levi #eren x reader #jean x reader #armin x reader #mikasa x reader #aot headcanons #levi x you #eren yeager x reader #armin alert x reader #mikasa ackerman x reader #hanji zoe x reader #erwin smith x reader #hanji zoe fluff #reiner braun x reader #bertholdt headcanons #reiner headcanons #bertholdt hoover x reader #annie leonhart x reader #snk headcanons #snk x reader

[iam93percentstardust]

For the birthday prompt: [Winteriron or Stuckony] Omega Tony soothing Alpha Bucky after a panic attack/nightmare shortly after they get him back to the Tower/Compound. Maybe a little bit of the team being overprotective on the omega genius and had been keeping him away from the "dangerous" and traumatized alpha assassin. But in the end, Tony just struts in like it's nothing and Bucky just f'ing melts to do whatever Tony says (in a sweet way, not a creepy one). Please?

Tumblr is doing weird things with the asks so if this doesn’t work, bear with me and I’ll post the story in the notes.

This story got a little bit (okay, maybe more than a little bit) away from me so I hope this is still what you were hoping for! I went the Stuckony route here and I’m also headcanoning that after a few years of dating Steve, Tony has mostly gotten over his emotional constipation.

As always, everything I write is on ao3 but tumblr doesn’t like links so I’m not including that

~

The first time Tony sees Bucky Barnes, it’s through a screen.

It’s the first real lead they’ve had in months, since the flurry of sightings immediately following SHIELD’s collapse. The team had sent Natasha and Clint to check it out. They’re both betas, and Nat’s ability to control the calming pheromones all betas let off gives them an edge over an alpha they suspect is on the verge of going feral.

He’s not on the verge, Tony realizes when he sees Barnes on the screen for the first time. He is feral.

Eyes clearly gone red, clear even through the low saturation of the screen, baring his fangs at Natasha and Clint as they cautiously approach, growling so fiercely that the other people in the market are giving him a wide berth as they peer at him fearfully from under their lashes—Bucky has been pushed past the point of breaking into ferality. It’s not surprising. Their entire world crashing down—literally, in this instance—would be a lot for any alpha to handle, but for one trying to deal with seventy years of brainwashing and amnesia? Yeah, Tony’s not surprised.

There’s something slightly terrifying about it. Alphas going feral is supposed to be a nightmare story, something you tell children about at night to scare them into being good. It’s not supposed to be something you see in a crowded marketplace. And when Tony thinks about how easy it would be for something to go wrong, if they’d sent someone other than Nat or Clint—like Steve who had wanted so badly to be the one to bring his friend in or even Tony with his omega pheromones evolved to tempt alphas into paying attention to him and only him—he shudders.

But—there’s something almost piteous about it too. It’s clear that Bucky is terrified beneath his snarling veneer, clear that he doesn’t fully understand what’s happening, and something in Tony’s heart shifts the same as it had the first time he saw Steve.

Something thrums deep inside him to the tune of mine.

“I can help,” he says.

Beneath him, Steve shifts uneasily, saying, “Tony—”

“I want to,” he interrupts. He turns, Steve’s arm sliding from his stomach to his hip, and rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, watching Nat raise her hands placatingly out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve had six months to get used to—everything. It wasn’t his fault, I know that, and—and you still love him, Steve, I know you do.”

“I love you,” Steve says, which isn’t really much of an argument.

“I know.” He smiles when Steve rolls his eyes at the well-worn response. “But you love him too. And… he feels like you did when we first met.”

He can feel Steve tense, and he tucks his head deeper into the crook of Steve’s neck, purring quietly to force him to calm. He knows his alpha is only worried about his safety. Bucky isn’t the same person he once was and even if Steve still has feelings for him, it’s only instinct to be worried about the omega he’s also in love with. But he doesn’t need to be worried. Tony is more than capable of taking care of himself and his own instincts are screaming that Bucky won’t hurt him, that Bucky is his. Only once Steve is fully relaxed again does he continue, “Please, Steve. I want to help. I want to know him better and I want to know if what I’m feeling about him is real. Let me?”

Steve sighs but Tony feels his lips curve upwards where they’re pressed against his hair. “I don’t let you do anything.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

~

Bucky is still feral by the time he, Nat, and Clint return to the tower, but it’s tinged now with panic. Tony can smell the sour scent it all the way from where he and the rest of the team are waiting in the kitchen and Bucky’s still outside. He’s not sure if that says something about his strength as an alpha or the depths of his panic, but either way, it’s not good. He glances again at the screen where he can see Natasha trying to calm Bucky down enough to get him to enter the building—the windows blacked out so that Bucky doesn’t panic further at the sight of the team just inside the landing pad—but it’s no dice.

“I’m going out there,” he announces.

It’s meant to just let everyone know that he’s going, but everyone else seems to take it as an invitation to stop him. The noise in the kitchen swings up into an uproar. Even Steve, who knows that he has every intention of helping, has tucked him up against his side, keeping him from taking a single step out of the kitchen.

“He’s dangerous,” Bruce argues once the initial noise has died down a little. It’s telling that Steve doesn’t immediately argue with him the way he normally does when someone says something bad about Bucky.

“We’re all dangerous,” Tony shoots back, ineffectually trying to wriggle his way out of Steve’s arms. “I’m dangerous and biology practically dictates that my orientation is about as dangerous as a bunny rabbit.”

Steve, who has been on the receiving end of Tony’s intense heats, snorts.

“Look,” he continues, “Nat’s not having any luck getting him to calm down enough to come inside and right now I’m really worried he’s going to either steal the Quinjet and take off or jump off the tower and take off. Either option comes with a lot of paperwork that I have to sign so I’d prefer it if he just came inside so why can’t I try? We can’t send another alpha out there, he’ll take that as a sign of aggression, and we can’t send Sam. The last time Bucky met him, he kicked him off a helicarrier. So that means we’re down to me. Sucks that it’s me but I’m our best option.”

“If he hurts you—” Steve begins.

“He won’t,” Tony says softly and turns so he can nose at Steve’s scent glands. “You won’t let him. I know you’ll be right there, ready if something goes wrong.”

Steve clearly still doesn’t want to let him go out there but his arms loosen enough for Tony to slip away. He smiles at the others, hiding his own nerves beneath a façade of self-confidence that he absolutely doesn’t feel. It’s not like any of them are wrong: feral alphas are dangerous, and this one is more dangerous than most. But he’s not wrong either: Bucky is in more danger the longer he stays out there. Hydra is searching for him and it was sheer luck that the Avengers found him first. But he doesn’t know how long that luck will hold, so the quicker they can bring him in out of the cold, the happier he’ll be.

He straightens his shirt and steps outside, ignoring the way the rest of the team trails him to the door. Bucky’s red eyes snap instantly to him. It’s unsettling, a little terrifying, and Tony has to stop himself from reaching for his sunglasses or from jamming his hands in his pockets. Instead, he holds himself loose and open, hands at his side and palms open so Bucky doesn’t think he’s hiding a weapon in his fists.

“Tony, what do you think you’re doing?” Clint murmurs, alerted to his presence by the sound of the door closing. Natasha is still concentrating on Bucky, trying to soothe him. Even from where he’s standing, he can feel her pheromones washing calm over him and he revises his plan to include her. He’s never felt this kind of strength from her before but he’d be an idiot not to use it.

“It’s okay,” he says, keeping his eyes fixed on Bucky, who’s growling lowly now. “Go back inside, Natasha and I have got this.”

“Can’t do that,” Clint says. “Steve would have my head if—”

“Steve’s my backup. He’s right inside. Go inside; I can’t calm Bucky down if he’s worrying about you.”

“But—”

“Please.”

He thinks it’s the please that does it. By now, the team knows that the whole Tony Stark doesn’t use social niceties thing is bullshit but he still spends so much time in the workshop, and so much time teasing the others when he’s not working, that it’s still an indicator that he’s completely serious about something.

Clint doesn’t waste time asking any other questions. He, more than anyone else on the team except for Steve, knows better than to underestimate people and question them when they’re confident. And Tony is about as confident as he can be. There are ways that this can go wrong, absolutely, but they’re running out of options and what he’s about to try is something that’s been scientifically proven to be effective.

He doesn’t watch Clint go, though Bucky does, only to snap his gaze right back to Tony as soon as Tony takes a step forward. He places a hand on Natasha’s shoulder as he passes her, murmurs into her ear too low for even supersoldiers to hear, “Keep up the good work. You’re helping,” and comes to a stop within armlength of Bucky, knowing that Bucky could easily reach out and hurt him if he wanted to.

It seems to throw Bucky off, who blinks at him. Tony smiles at him and reaches up to his neck, loosening the scent blocker just enough to dilute the bonded scent pouring off of him and allow his own to filter in.

Bucky blinks again. “Omega,” he says eventually, voice rusty with disuse.

Tony smiles again. “That’s right.”

“And… Stevie?” Bucky guesses. In that moment, he sounds so young that it makes Tony’s heart break. Bucky had his future stolen away from him just the same as Steve did. He can’t fully regret that because it brought them both to him, but he knows how much pain and healing Steve had had to go through after waking up in this century and he knows what Bucky will still have to do, and he hurts for them.

“Steve’s my alpha,” he says. “Do you remember Steve?”

Bucky hesitates and then slowly nods. The red is slowly starting to recede from his eyes—though Tony isn’t sure that has anything to do with what he’s doing or if it’s just because he’s managing to baffle the alpha—and then Natasha shifts. It’s nothing more than a twitch of her leg but Bucky instantly notices it.

Before Tony realizes it, Bucky has snatched him to him, tucked him behind the mass that makes up Bucky’s body, and is snarling at Natasha, eyes scarlet red again. Just barely, he sees the door start to open and if it does, if the team comes out of it ready to fight, they’ll lose Bucky.

“No!” he shouts, startling Bucky. It’s enough though. The door pauses. Tony can see Steve through the crack, looking terrified, but he isn’t hurt. He’s okay. Bucky hasn’t done anything other than seemingly try to protect him.

He darts in front of Bucky again, wraps his arms around his shoulders, and tugs him down to his neck, tucking his face into the loosened scent blocker so he can inhale both Steve and Tony.

“Settle,” he commands. It’s usually a command an alpha uses for their omega but there’s precedence of omegas using it too. He draws on every ounce of strength he typically reserves for the boardroom and pushes it into his voice, ordering him again when Bucky lets out an answering growl.

It takes a moment but Bucky suddenly melts, going limp and boneless against him. Tony’s only half-expecting it; the alpha’s weight takes him by surprise and they sink to the ground, Bucky taking in huge gasping breaths as he breathes in their combined scents.

“Oh my darling,” Tony whispers, hands coming up to stroke through Bucky’s hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

~

Without quite meaning to, Bucky ends up moving into the guest room on his and Steve’s floor. Tony means to put Bucky on his own floor but then Bucky spends the afternoon following him docilely around the common areas, as sweet now as he was feral a few hours earlier. The others still seem a little wary but as time passes and it becomes obvious that Tony is in fact doing some good, they start to relax. By the time they’d be heading up to bed, Bucky is stretched out on the couch, head on Tony’s lap and feet tucked under Steve’s legs, as the team watches a movie.

“I think he’s imprinted on you,” Clint observes dryly as he heads for the elevator. “Like a duck.”

Tony doesn’t look up from where he’s carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair but he feels the alpha tense. “That’s okay, darling,” he comments idly. “I’m pretty sure Steve and I imprinted on each other once we started living together too.”

Natasha groans. “Don’t remind me. It was like watching a Disney movie without the singing animals.”

“Disney movie?” Bucky asks, voice muffled by Tony’s thigh.

“I’ll show you,” Tony assures him.

The rest of the team starts slowly filtering out until it’s just the three of them. Tony and Steve exchange a look over Bucky’s head, not needing to communicate with words after the years they’ve spent together. They’re both concerned about where Bucky will sleep tonight. With a quick glance toward Bucky and a tilt of his eyebrows, Steve tells him that he would be more than happy with Bucky staying with them, but he’ll leave the decision up to Tony. No one likes the scent of a distressed omega after all, and the easiest way to end up with a distressed omega is by inviting someone into their space that they don’t want there.

Fortunately, Tony would be more than happy with Bucky there. He hadn’t been joking when he’d said that one look at Bucky and it had felt like they were meant for each other, just as it had felt with Steve—and, he suspected, just as it had felt with Steve and Bucky, even if they’d never made a move.

But he wants the choice to be Bucky’s, so he gently lifts his hands away from Bucky’s hair and asks, “Bucky? Do you want to have your own floor? We’ve got a few extras for when we expand the roster. Or you could stay on our floor, if you’d prefer?”

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate to say, “With you.”

He knows Bucky doesn’t mean it the way he wants, doesn’t mean that he’ll join them in their bed, but maybe… Maybe someday, once Bucky is better (he isn’t so naïve as to think this is the end of it; he only has to look at his own history with backsliding after Afghanistan and Stane and the palladium reactor to know that) and if he and Steve can figure out the right words to invite someone into a triad bond…

Well. Maybe someday.

~

He wakes up in the middle of the night to Steve gently shaking his shoulder. “Waz wrong?” he mumbles, blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Did I have a nightmare?”

“No, sweetheart,” Steve whispers, leaning over to kiss his bare shoulder. “Bucky wanted to know if he could join us. Said he was worried about Hydra.” He doesn’t say if Bucky was worried about Hydra taking him away or someone else, Tony or Steve, he notes, but the answer is the same either way.

“’Course he can, long as he’s not a blanket hog.”

He fully expects Bucky to climb in on Steve’s other side. It only makes sense: the two grew up together so of course, Steve would be the middle in this instance. Instead, Steve tugs Tony closer to him so that he’s spooning up behind him, and Bucky crawls under the blankets so that he’s facing Tony, looking more relaxed as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Huh. Maybe there’s something to what Clint was saying about Bucky imprinting on him. He would be more worried, but alphas don’t imprint on someone unless they feel safe with them, unless there’s the beginning stirrings of a mating bond in the back of their mind, even though a full bond takes time, communication, and love to develop. Considering that Tony’s pretty sure he’s imprinted on Bucky the same way, he really isn’t that concerned about Bucky’s feelings.

Still though, he makes a note to sit down and talk with Bucky eventually about how they can’t just rush into this. They’ve all been through too much to immediately strike up a relationship. Bucky isn’t in the right mental state at the moment. And as for Tony, he wants to make sure they’re all on the same page and that Bucky won’t regret this two years down the line. Hell, he’s still uncertain that Steve won’t regret this at some point, so he definitely wants to know that Bucky’s sure of his feelings.

But that’s a problem for tomorrow-Tony, he decides. Tonight, he’s going to snuggle into his alpha’s warmth and enjoy having Bucky close by instead of somewhere out in the world where Tony can’t keep him safe.

~

The next day is weirder. Not in a bad way! Just—here: when Tony finally drags himself away from the warm spots in the bed that his mates (not his mates; his mate and his mate’s best friend… who might one day be his mate), makes his way into the kitchen, and sleepily grumbles, “Coffee,” there are suddenly two steaming mugs in front of him, one from Steve and one from—someone else. He raises his eyes slowly to where Bucky is watching him with hopeful eyes. That answers that question then.

“Uh, thanks, Snowflake,” he says and takes a cautious sip out of the one Bucky put down. It’s not that he thinks it’s poisoned. It’s just that Bucky has been here for less than twenty-four hours, there’s no way that he know how exacting Tony can be about his coffee, how particular—how—how…

Huh. This is pretty damn perfect actually.

He takes another, larger sip and then looks at where Steve is busy making breakfast for the three of them. Steve watches him with an amused look in his eyes. Tony knows Steve isn’t concerned about someone else preparing his coffee—Bruce has done it plenty of times and whenever Rhodey’s in town, he insists that he’s the only one who can make Tony’s coffee—he’s just enjoying watching the two of them together.

He thinks about the nights he used to wake from a dead sleep to the sound of Steve weeping over Bucky, about the concerns he used to share with Tony that Bucky wouldn’t want to stay with them or would want to leave. He wonders now how much of that was fear that Tony wouldn’t want Bucky to stay because he wouldn’t be able to stomach housing the person Hydra used to kill his parents. Silly alpha, he thinks fondly. As though Tony wouldn’t love anyone Steve loves.

At least that’s a fear he can put to rest.

Gulping down half his coffee in one go, he leans back in his chair and casually says, “Steve, you’re fired. Pack your things and go. I’m keeping this one. His coffee is lightyears ahead of yours.”

Steve bursts out laughing and crosses the kitchen to pull him up and kiss him soundly. Tony purrs into the kiss, answered with a low rumble from Steve and then, so low he almost misses it—another rumble from Bucky. He smiles triumphantly and pulls away with another kiss, hands resting on Steve’s broad chest.

“Better finish up that breakfast, soldier,” he says teasingly. “Got things to do today in the workshop and I need my alpha down there to stand around and look pretty. You too, Bucky Babe,” he calls over his shoulder. “Universe gave me two supersoldiers, be a shame not to take advantage of that.”

He doesn’t know what Bucky looks like but the kitchen suddenly scents like contended alpha, and he knows it’s not Steve’s scent because he knows Steve’s scent as well as he knows his own. He smiles again, nuzzles deeper into Steve’s chest and hums happily.

It’s not perfect yet, he thinks, but soon—soon it will be.

~

Tony was right that first day—it takes time, months really. Time for Bucky to backslide and Steve to backslide and Tony to back-shimmy because he doesn’t do anything as gauche as slide. It takes months of therapy, days of consultation with the world’s top experts on how to remove the brainwashing and programming from Bucky’s brain, hours of working together in the workshop on Bucky’s arm as Tony comes up with improvement after improvement.

It’s countless bad nights where Bucky wakes up in a nightmare and reaches to strangle Steve—never Tony, never his omega, but always his best friend—and countless bad days afterward trying to convince him to come back to their bed. It’s figuring out how to work around the myriad of triggers all three of them have and sometimes it doesn’t work. Sometimes Bucky doesn’t realize that Tony can’t handle baths anymore. Sometimes Steve doesn’t notice that Bucky’s afraid of heights. Sometimes Tony misses that it’s the anniversary of Bucky falling from the train.

It’s bad sometimes.

But it’s good sometimes too.

It’s figuring out how they curl around each other in bed and waking up warm and rested. It’s feeding each other by hand in the morning when they’re too tired to bother with silverware. It’s cups of coffee and donuts with sprinkles and warm hugs. It’s Bucky resting his head on Tony’s lap and tucking his feet under Steve’s legs during movie nights.

It’s Tony and Steve dancing together around the kitchen island as Bucky cooks, watching them fondly. It’s Bucky crooning old songs from the 40s when Steve’s on a mission and Tony can’t sleep without his alpha. It’s Steve and Bucky spending hours walking the streets of Brooklyn, reminiscing about growing up together.

It’s love, blooming slowly but surely for everyone to see.

And when one night as Tony is changing out of the charcoal suit he’d worn for the board meeting that day and into his pajamas and Bucky stops him with a hoarsely whispered, “Doll,” he smiles and guides Bucky’s hand to his waist.

“It’s okay, darling” he murmurs. “You can.”

Bucky’s kiss, when it comes, feels like coming home.

#stuckony #alle writes #alle answers #if you like please consider reblogging #fingers crossed that tumblr lets me post this #willowlark369

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers being Soft for Their Daughters 

Might just be me but I think there's nothing cuter than a Dad who loves his daughter so I made a hc for our boys. Strap in, it’s a long one! 

IMPORTANT! Watch out for first half spoilers! Assumed that the child is a half human/half demon with the MC!

Lucifer

Tries to be really strict but ends up being kind of a pushover.

Oh there ARE rules that even his little girl can't break, but most of the time she can get away with almost anything if she's cute clever enough.

Pushes her to be the best at almost anything she tries, expectations be real high; gonna take the MC stepping in to remind him winning isn't everything and please cool it on the pressure.

Lowkey learned his lesson before and doesn't want to make another Satan situation so tries to take MC's advice to heart and not be quite so controlling.

Her favorite uncle is Mammon and he gets cold sweats about this every night.

Wasn't able to be there for a lot of her firsts due to work and gets real sulky when he misses out. Videos just don't offer the same experience...

Feels bad that work keeps him so busy so he tries to make up for it with toys, clothes, jewelry, pretty much whatever she likes at the time.

Would never admit it, but his black heart melts every time he comes home and sees she's excitedly waiting by the door.

One of those parents who will never stop bragging about how amazing their kid is to anyone who will listen, but never when she's in the same room.

100% that overprotective "I'm going to give you a brief tour of the torture chamber, then we’ll browse my whip collection. Oh, make sure she's home by 8" kind of dad if she were to ever bring home a date. They will know that his baby is not to be messed with (like anyone's crazy enough to try honestly).

Mammon

So over the goddamn moon that someone actually wanted to have a kid with him that he couldn't shut up about it for weeks.

Treasures his little girl more than anything he owns, even Goldie. When she's a baby the two of them are practically inseparable.

The biggest pushover to ever be pushed. She's about the only person he's ever unconditionally generous to and he really spoils her rotten.

She's just as materialistic as her father, honestly, but MC made sure their girl was raised with good morals. The first of which being no stealing. Ever. She works for every cent she spends.

On the one hand, he's actually pretty damn proud and relieved that she won't be called "scum" or anything like her father, but on the other hand like… Ew. Who raised you? (No one remind him it’s kind of his doing anyway).

For once in his greedy existence, he can tell a sob story about really needing that loan or those shoes for his beloved daughter and actually mean it… most of the time 😏

Even when she's young, though, she will ask him if a gift he's giving her was taken from someone else and, man, he cannot lie to her face. People shame him for stealing all the time but the little look of disappointment she gives him hurts WAY more than all of his brothers’ insults combined.

Probably one of the most supportive and involved dads in existence. He will be at every game, every recital, every meet. Even if he's complaining the whole time, if anyone so much as suggests that he just shouldn't go he'd be appalled.

…. He's perhaps a little too involved because he's also totally the kind of father who will lowkey stalk his daughter's dates to be sure nothing bad happens. MC, please step in. She needs privacy too.

Leviathan

Was incredibly worried about having a kid, he's not even had the best track record when it comes to pets and parenting is some high-level normie stuff. But his little girl's first smile absolutely melted his doubts away.

That being said… he's still not the greatest with little kids. For a long time if the baby so much as sneezed unexpectedly he'd start shouting for the MC and checking every website he can like??? My half demon baby won't stop sneezing, is it pneumonia???

Gets a lot less panicky as the child gets older, but in those early years he'd practically want to stick them in a bubble wrap suit.

He passed on his love of the ocean and underwater creatures pretty early on. The running joke is that his girl knew how to swim before she knew how to crawl.

Family aquarium trips are an absolute must.

The second they're old enough to understand plot he's introducing them to his favorite shows, but only the best (and most child-friendly) ones of course. He wants his daughter to grow into a woman of culture, damnit! Pop culture that is.

Sooo much text/chat lingo between these two. It's not her fault really. She was bound to pick it up but man can it sound like they're speaking tongues at times.

With practice she can and will beat her old man at most video games and, yes, it makes his cry tears of equal parts pride and aggravation.

Has a mini-panic attack every time she hits a new milestone, like, yes he's so fucking proud but also don't you think she's growing up too fast??? MY BABY GIRL!!! 😭😭😭

Cries like a baby to the MC when she goes out on her first date because he realized she's really, truly, growing up and he's afraid his little girl isn't going to want to spend time with her lame old dad anymore.

Satan

Tries to be strict and IS strict but mostly on schoolwork.

Her grades best not be slippin' or this Book Papa will take all her stuff away. End of discussion.

Otherwise, he's surprisingly chill being the Avatar of Wrath and all. He of all people understands the desire to just have your own life and do your own thing.

She'll inherit his temper though, that's a given, and if they both get going then watch out. Fights between them can get verbally explosive, but never physical. Even at his angriest Satan would never once lay a hand on his daughter.

Read to her every night when she was young: storybooks, novels, mythologies, didn't matter to him. Whatever she wanted to hear. Still, he was so proud the day she told him that she wanted to read on her own.

100% makes nearly everything in life a teachable lesson but also helps her when she needs it. He wants her to forge her own path but is still very supportive when the situation calls for it.

Would never EVER admit it, but he does just as many dad jokes as Lucifer.

Of all the brothers, he's probably the most typical father to have, there for his kid just enough while also making sure they're not getting away with murder.

Is totally chill with her dating because he knows he doesn’t have to be super protective of her. She can more than handle herself if something goes wrong, in fact, if he were to step in it would probably add insult to their already grievance injury.

That being said, he IS the Avatar of Wrath. If someone hurts his girl he’s going to have a turn one way or another.

Asmodeus

Oh YEEESSS, he's not normally the commitment kind of guy but he and MC raising a child? They'd be the most gorgeous thing in the universe!!! (Not counting himself of course)

Beautifying his baby since day one, but the MC keeps him from doing anything too extreme. A lot of baths, good moisturizer, hairstyling (when she grows enough of it), etc.

Soooo many outfits. She'll practically never wear the same thing twice and Asmo coordinates his own clothes to match hers all the time.

He actually goes out and parties LESS if you can believe it, especially when she's young and needs a lot of supervision. But he'll get pent up real quick so learning how to do a quiet quickie during naptime is a must.

His girl is all over his Devilgram, nearly every milestone is snapped up and recorded. He loves her more than anything and would just scream about his pride and joy from the rooftops if social media didn't provide him that outlet.

Makes sure his daughter knows that she is gorgeous, she is loved, and passes on every bit of self-confidence he has. Doesn't matter if she grows up a girly-girl, tomboy, or anything else under the sun. When you're feeling good just being you, heads will turn on their own accord!

Not the best at discipline and would only really step in if he thinks she's being a real jerk about something. Day to day attitude adjustments are totally up to the MC.

He is, however, the best sex-ed teacher one could ever ask for and makes sure his daughter knows there's no shame in what comes natural, just be sure you're respectful and responsible!

Completely unfazed when the suitors began lining up, I mean she is HIS daughter. It was inevitable. Offers tips and advice when he can but lets her go off and experiment naturally. Young love is a beautiful thing! (Just don't break his girl's heart though because he may lowkey curse your whole bloodline)

Beelzebub 

….. MC, you're going to be eaten out of house and home.

Though his daughter's appetite isn't AS bad as his, Beel could tell it's going to be an issue from day one but he's ready for it.

Dedicates his freaking life to being sure she never goes one night hungry. He'll cook, he'll shop, he'll even share from his own plate if he has to. The thought of her going through anywhere near the level of starvation he feels on a daily basis is enough to crush his soul (if he has one)

You better bet there will be eating competitions. She never wins, but the fact she can even get close will have him grinning anyway.

That being said, he will push for a healthy and active lifestyle for her too. 

Highkey wants her playing sports and doing team activities because he genuinely thinks it will help her stay healthy and make friends.

Just the right amount of discipline. Tries to be understanding but also knows when to call a spade, a spade and express his disapproval.

Very in-tune to her emotions and her needs even if he can’t quite grasp WHY she's feeling the way she is. Keeping up with teen drama is going to be the bane of his existence...

Uncle Belphie=That one cool uncle who lets you get away with anything and probably gives out sugar after bedtime.

One of the only brothers who makes a point of his daughter also seeing and exploring her human heritage too and not just treating her like a pseudo-demon… And it's totally not just for the added excuse of sampling human world cuisine, like, come on who do you take him for? 🤫

Somewhat cautious about her dating, but ultimately just wants her to be happy. He'll usually trust her judgment but he's pretty good at reading someone's character and if he gets real bad vibes from anyone he's not above telling her, "No. Not that one." Whether or not he's listened to depends on the situation.

Belphegor

Lol MC, you could have picked a much better choice. Borderline Deadbeat/Cool Dad here!

Kids… not his thing. He doesn't dislike them exactly, they're just a lot of work and he's sort of allergic to that. He's more of a semi-irresponsible babysitter type.

Case in point, "Belphie, watch the baby" becomes "Belphie, if you're going to take a nap at least hold onto her leg so she doesn't go anywhere."

Only saving grace is she takes after him so most days she's pretty dang sleepy too. Naptime is a good third of the daily routine (not that anyone is complaining).

Shit at discipline because, like, what leg does he have to stand on? If she wants to ditch class, why not let her? Once or twice ain't that bad.

Takes her on a lot of "field trips" to the human world like he would with Lilith. Genuinely wants her to experience both sides of her identity and encourages her to explore her human side just as much as her demon.

The kind of chill dad that you feel comfortable going to when you've got to talk out a problem or need life advice. He might not be able to offer many answers, but he tries in his own way.

Will prank his kid and will not feel sorry, but is never cruel about it. In fact, this will only spur on a mutual prank war between the two.

Uncle Beel=that genuinely nice uncle who tries to teach you life lessons and how to take care of yourself… while also eating a ton of food.

Would be super confused at first if she started dating like?? How? He kind of sees her like a mini-him at times and his human came to him. Since when did she stay awake long enough to leave the house?? But otherwise he goes with the flow. Whatever she wants, her life.

He might get a bit more agitated if she starts to date a human, like, lowkey bad flashbacks to the whole Lilith situation and the MC would probably have to cool his jets about it. Different circumstances after all.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me headcanons #obey me luficer #obey me leviathan #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me scenarios

[yanderememes]

Imagine... me, an INFP afraid and with a stupid paranoid of being chased or captured, there I would be a panic attack or cry a lot, begging to the Yandere not to hurt anyone I love or myself... I am attracted personally with, INTJ, INFJ, ENTP, INTP and especially the ENTJ, the most evil in my opinion...

Sorry the bad english ;---;

I get along so well with INFPs! I'm literally surrounded by them irl haha.

You're English is perfectly fine anon! I'm a native speaker and my English is still ass. 🥴

I'm an enneagram 6 and that basically means I'm the embodiment of paranoia lmao, so I feel you. But dw INFP anon, cuz I’ll protect you! 

Here’s how I think an INFP darling’s relationship would be like with all the types you mentioned

!Disclaimer! These are GENERALIZATIONS about the relationships in mbti. If your type was mentioned and you don’t resonate with what I say, that’s totally fine! There is so much more to humans and relationships that mbti can’t possibly cover. This is all just for fun!

INFP-INTJ

They'll admire your strong values and authenticity. A yandere INTJ may fall for an INFP darling cuz they bring out a more emotional side to them. I think an INTJ would be more appreciative of this than an ENTJ since INTJs like to get in touch with their feelings from time to time (its called Fi in mbti). They’ll think of you as sweet, innocent, and someone they HAVE to protect. It’s a cruel world out there, they can’t let INFP darling be tainted! They can come across as cold, so an INFP darling will constantly doubt if the INTJ really loves them or is just psychotic. They’ll think your crying is kinda cute tbh.

INFP-INFJ

An INFJ yandere will be very in tune with INFP darling’s feelings. I do genuinely think that INFP darling would fall in love with a yandere INFJ cuz the INFP finally feels understood and accepted. Little does INFP darling know, this went all according to the INFJ’s plan... Both are idealists and romanticists, so it’ll honestly be a rose-tinted relationship. Their relationship won’t even feel yandere at all. The yandere only comes out when INFP darling realizes how overbearing the INFJ can be and wants INFP all to themselves. Yandere INFJs are manipulators after all, so expect some "reeducation” on how INFP should think/behave about their relationship. 

INFP-ENTP

OH BOI, INFP DARLING WILL NEVER STOP CRYING WITH AN ENTP YANDERE. An ENTP yandere would be goofy, constantly teasing the INFP, and riling them up just because it’s fun to see them angry. ENTPs (in general) have Fi blindspot, meaning, they often have extremely morally gray areas. They don’t really care/know what’s right or wrong and have no idea how they feel half the time, and that often rubs INFPs the wrong way. So imagine a YANDERE ENTP. Anything can happen with them because they’re so chaotic and frankly, they dgaf about what INFP darling thinks/feels. They’ll do whatever they want with INFP darling. Yandere ENTPs will come off as clingy and that’ll frustrate INFP darling as they seek independence.

INFP-INTP

Very similar to ENTP, just not as chaotic. Yandere INTP will be obsessive. They’ll research everything about you and about relationships to try and navigate through this thing called “love”. They won’t be clingy, but may hurt INFP darling’s feelings a lot (accidentally, unlike yandere ENTP) with their extremely logical framework and dismiss INFP’s feelings. On the flip side, they can be overbearing. Overextending themselves to try and win you over cuz they’re living in fear that you’ll leave them. 

INFP-ENTJ

In MBTI theory, ENTJs are considered your most compatible. I think yandere ENTJ would think of INFP darling as child-like. Cute, innocent, but too idealistic. In a way, they’ll want to break you. ENTJs love self-improvement, whether it be in themselves or others. It’s their way of showing they care. So once they obtain INFP darling, they’re gonna want to “help” you become more realistic and logical but through some cruel and sadistic methods. For example, they may degrade you and say some horrible things to you like “you’re stupid, illogical, too emotional, crybaby, slut, etc.” Partly cuz they do want to help darling grow but also because they enjoy holding that power over them. The power to break or build up darling.  

#ask #anonymous #jojo mbti #yandere mbti #infp #intj #infj #entj #entp #intp

[springmagpies]

For ship ask (since you did AoS ships already lol): Roy and Kelley? And maybe Ted and Rebecca? :)

I babes! I’m sorry this took me so freaking long to get to!

Roy x Keeley

OTP OMG!!! They are up there with Fitzsimmons for me in terms of my all time otp list. Roy and Keeley are the definition of a healthy relationship. They are literally the sunshine character brings out softer side to grumpy character dynamic. Roy can be tough and grumpy and given his upbringing and the sport he plays has never been one to be super public with his emotions. But Keeley brings that out in him. She sees how he is with Phoebe and just continues to bring out that side in him. She knows that Roy’s grumpiness isn’t the whole of him, but also appreciates that side of him. Neither of them love in spite of but always love because of if that makes any sense. They bring out the best in each other. Meanwhile, Keeley is an independent queen but that doesn’t mean she can’t be in a relationship. Because Roy respects her and loves her unconditionally. He knows she is a boss ass bitch and is always there to remind her that when her nerves kick in. They build each other up, they respect one another, they LISTEN to each other always, they share openly and honestly, and they are dependable, reliable, and accountable. I love them a whole lot.

Ted x Rebecca

This ship is very similar to Philinda for me. If it is kept platonic than I won’t be mad, but if it moves to romantic than I would be delighted. Whatever way it goes, I love these two. The amount of mutual respect between them is incredible, but they are also incredibly in tune with the other. Ted senses when Rebecca is stressed or upset and always asks if she needs something before assuming she does. Meanwhile, Rebecca can read Ted better than anyone, even Beard sometimes. When he’s having a panic attack she is just there for him. She doesn’t pretend to know what is troubling him, she just assures him she’s there for him. They are always there for each other. They back each other up and they listen to one another. Something I love about their story and relationship is that they’re not what fixes the other, but instead they are each other’s key to remembering who they are as people. What I mean is, Rebecca had been locked up in an ivory tower, one she had “walked up every step of” and when she had finally gotten the door to that tower open, she couldn’t quite remember how to walk down those steps. Ted wasn’t the person that suddenly made her all better, but he was the one to offer his hand to help her down. Meanwhile, Ted had been in more pain than he had let on to anyone and Rebecca was the person that didn’t make the pain go away, but was the one to help him start to breathe through it. Anyway, I love them.

#Ted lasso #Maggie rants #roy x keeley #ted x rebecca

[pigeonp0st]

Oh you could write one where reader and Supergirl are fighting together against some supervillain and reader gets hurt and almost dies and Kara is freaking out because she can't lose her girlfriend and just... angst (please don't kill reader though, i'm begging you)

Kara Danvers x Reader #5

Words: 1,905

Warnings: Angst, Explosion not described in detail. Just an aftermath.

Notes:

MWHAHAHA! I technically didn’t listen to your plead...so i’m sorry? (Thank you for the request and sorry for all spelling mistakes)

——

They were kids.

You weren’t bulletproof like Kara, definitely not grenade proof, you knew that...but they were kids. Kids clutching onto their mom looking terrified. Terrified that their mom would get hurt, terrified that the three of them were going to die.

You’re terrified too. Lately as your life has gotten better with Kara, beautiful, caring Kara, you’ve been getting more scared everyday, scared that something was going to happen to ruin your happiness.

The fear is almost enough to paralyze you when you see the latest National City supervillain get ready to throw the grenade, but alas...when the man throws the grenade the stupid instinct to protect overtakes you and you jump into the air to catch it like a ball, before it can get to close to the family.

You’re more invincible than them, even if you’re not nearly as invincible as Kara...it’s time to test that theory, you think bitterly.

Turns out—when the grenade goes off and a piercing scream hits the air—you’re not that much more invincible than a regular human.

Kara, you think, tears running down your face, Kara, Kara, Kara. Kara. Everything hurts but all you can think about is Kara and whether or not she’s going to be okay fighting without you. Forever, possibly. Fighting without you forever, and just thinking about your death feels like ice water being poured over you until the cold sinks in and it’s just panic.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

It takes moments before she’s by your side, moments that feel like a lifetime, she was slowed by the kryptonite she was fighting against and wasn’t able to get to you in time when the grenade went off but now she’s here, and she’s sobbing. Sobs that wrack her body, and you’re trying to sit up despite the ringing in your ear.

“Kara!” You yell, eyes wide, and you don’t want to be doing this to her, you want to pretend like you’re okay with this—you want to be strong for her—but you can’t. You can’t, because holy fuck. Fuck. “I can’t feel my legs, Kara. Baby, I can’t feel anything. I can’t...why can’t I move?”

Kara places a hand on your chest, and you can feel that, it hurts, “Alex,” she says into the comms, “it’s Y/N...she’s badly injured. I can’t bring her to the DEO, I can’t fly; the kryptonite is still in the air around us, and I can’t move her away from it either.”

You hear Kara’s panicked voice next to you, and when you focus you hear it in your own comms.

Alex’s voice crackles through immediately, and even she sounds scared, “how bad, Kara?”

“She says she can’t feel her legs, and she...she’s losing a lot of blood. She’s cold, too, and her breathing is labored,” Kara’s practically ranting now, her fingers shaking against your chest. “I’d put pressure on the wound but there’s a lot of blood and I don’t know—”

You turn your face away from Kara when her hand travels to your cheek, and you try to tune her out, because her face...it really says everything about your condition, and you don’t want to hear Kara talk about all of the ways you’re dying.

You catch the last thing Alex says and it fills you with dread that makes your bones feel even heavier, “keep her awake, Kara. There’s no telling if she’ll wake up again if she falls asleep now.”

Kara’s resulting sob rips your heart to shreds.

“I didn’t realize until I met you how much I don’t want to die,” you tell her after a moment filled with her cries. You’ve never felt so scared in your life (besides after Kara’s fight with Reign) “but I really don’t want to, Kara. I really don’t want to.”

“You won’t,” Kara says, trying to give you a reassuring smile, “you won’t because I need you to stay. What am I supposed to do without you?” She tries to laugh afterwards but it’s really just a choked sound, and you can hear the fear in her words.

The iron taste that was on your tongue felt like death, but now as you slowly start to taste it less, and as the smell of gasoline slowly slips away, you wonder if this is really a sign of death. The reapers signature.

“You’ll live.” You say, “you have to. There’s no other choice.” Your voice is filled with too much certainty for a dying woman, “It’ll be fine. You’ll get to eat the last popsicle in the fridge,” a humorless chuckle forces its way out of your throat, “I hid it. It’s under the frozen peas.”

You can tell by the look on Kara’s face what she’s thinking about. A half empty bed when she goes home alone to your shared apartment, your favorite mug sitting on the counter half full of cold coffee, your dishes still in her sink—your sink—your clothes in the washing machine, your…

“I can’t,” Kara whispers, her voice filled with the amount of sorrow only she can manage, “I can’t lose two of my worlds. I’m not strong enough.”

Kara Zor-El not being strong enough. It’s a humorous thought. You know Kara will fight, she’ll fight because it’s all she knows. She’ll find her reason. She won’t give up on the world, even if she gives up on herself for some time. It’s the one thing you need to be sure of right now.

“Yeah you are,” you mumble, trying to lift your shaky hand to cup her cheek. She grabs a hold of your hand and helps you to your destination. You try not to scream curses at the world at the sight of your blood on her pale cheek. “You, Kara Danvers, are an anomaly in the way you never let anything knock you down.”

“This is enough,” Kara promises, and it’s the last promise you’d ever want to hear from her, “you’re enough to ruin me.”

“Kara,” you whisper, hating the world so furiously in that moment for all it wants to take. “That’s the last thing I want to hear...I only ever want to build you up.”

“And you do,” Kara says, “but love really does both, doesn’t it? Sometimes it hurts as much as it heals.”

“That isn’t fair,” you whimper out, and Kara nods against your hand, closing her eyes and trying not to breathe in the smell of your blood.

Moments later Kara opens her eyes in a panic after realizing that you haven’t spoken, only to see you trying to blink your eyes awake. She squeezes your hand repeatedly, trying to get your attention. “Y/N, it’s not time.” She tells you desperately, “it’s not time.”

One of her tears fall against your cheek, causing you to pout. “Stop crying,” you slur, delirious from the blood loss, “I resent it when you cry because of me.”

Kara shakes her head, only crying harder.

You smile up at her sadly, “I'm sorry i’m dying.” And you mean it.

“Stop saying that,” Kara pleads, like it’s breaking her, “stop.”

You wish you could give Kara what she wants but your eyelids are getting heavier and heavier and you don’t think you have much time. “Just tell Alex to name a kid after me, or at least tell her to name a fish after me.”

Kara’s shaking her head and shaking your arm, trying to get you to open your eyes again, “Y/N! Hey! Stop, come on, baby, just open your eyes…”

You try, you really do, you’ve never tried so hard to listen before, and it works for a moment, just for a second you manage to open your eyes, much to Kara’s relief, and that’s when you finally notice a crowd of people and a slumped alien (the man you two were fighting) a little ways behind you and Kara. When did Kara do that to him? When did the people come?

It’s when you see Alex though, rushing out of a black van, that you feel some sort of relief. Alex will protect Kara when you’re gone. You’re sure of it.

—

“Wake up! Wake up,” Kara sobs, “Alex, Alex—please, she’s not—”

—

“She died, Kara, in the van, we managed to bring her back...but things are looking uncertain right now. For now, the best thing you can do is look after yourself”

Kara’s glowing red eyes snap up from the floor towards Alex. Her powers have been going haywire since they arrived at the DEO. “Save her,” Kara pleads, voice hoarse from crying. “Please.”

—

It’s late at night after Kara hears your heart stop (the second time) that she gets placed in kryptonite handcuffs.

Alex doesn’t want to do it but Kara isn’t in control of her powers anymore, and she almost seriously hurt someone. Multiple times.

Kara doesn’t leave your side after they get your heart going again, she can’t hear your heart with the kryptonite on so the only thing she can take comfort in is the beeping of your heart monitor.

—

You wake up two weeks after your accident.

Kara’s asleep next to you when you do.

You’re confused and thirsty so it takes you several long moments for you to remember what happened, and once you do you’re sobbing hard, crying loud enough to startle awake a sleeping Kara.

She freezes when she sees you, you’re curled up in the hospital bed and shaking with your relief and the leftover fear, and she’s watching you like she doesn’t know what to do now that you’re awake.

She’s been praying for this moment, imagining it, waiting for it day after day, minute after minute, second after second, but now that it’s actually happened she’s paralyzed with her overwhelming emotions.

“Y/N?” Kara stutters, eyes filling with her own tears of relief.

You laugh at Kara’s face, loud and completely joyful, and suddenly she’s sobbing too, grinning all the while, because you’re here—finally— you’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, and you’re laughing, and the world is finally okay again too.

“Damn, weren’t we dramatic?” You smirk, paying no mind to the tears running down your or her face.

Kara laughs, pulling you into a careful hug (she got her handcuffs taken off only a day ago). “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you whisper back, tightening your hold on Kara as much as you can and simply breathing her in. Breathing life in.

“I feel like i’m dreaming,” Kara says after a while, voice trembling. You feel like you're dead...and like you're in heaven. Is this heaven?

“You aren’t,” you reassure Kara anyways.

She nods against your shoulder, shaking even harder than you were. “Are you okay?” You ask worriedly.

“you’re the one who had to go and die two times.”

“Nearly three times,” Alex says from the doorway.

You notice Kara tense and shift in front of you until she realizes it’s just Alex, and you think that’ll probably be something you two will have to talk about, but for now you roll your eyes at Alex and say, much to both Kara’s and her amusement; “the only reason you tried so hard to save me is because you didn’t want to name your kid after me, isn’t it?”

Alex’s shrug and “maybe” gets a glare from Kara and a smirk from you.

#kara danvers x reader #supergirl x reader #supergirl imagine #kara danvers imagine #kara zor el x reader #kara zor el imagine #fem reader #supergirl #kara danvers #kara zor el #alex danvers #dc x reader #kara x reader

[unknown-writing]

Comforting their stressed s/o

Summary: Their s/o has been dealing with familial issues, causing them to break down easily. The boys try to figure out different ways to make them less stressed out

Warning(s): Toxic family members, mentions of depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts(reader), mentions of force throwing up(reader), alcohol consumption

A/N: Been dealing with a lot of bullshit from petty grandparents. I deserve some comfort. Minors DNI

After a while of dating Luffy, you noticed that he was able to sense your emotions of the day depending on the mood you’d wake up in. If you weren’t sad, you were ok and stable. if you woke up /extremely late and sad/..He knew he had to be near you, and protect you from everything that could remotely make you the /slightest/ bit of even worse Sad.

He doesn’t fully get it at first, he tried to just make you laugh, because to him, laughter was the best cure for most sadness that he came across in people. But after a while, it became clear of what you were dealing with, so he started changing his tactics on how he’d make you feel better.

This week was especially hard on your mental state. He could tell that you were walking on egg shells everywhere you went. Your parents had somehow found you living with him and disliked the idea of their Precious Daughter with a bunch of Low Life Pirates. Granted, they weren’t too bad this time around after the last time Luffy snapped at them....Or so he thought. He hadn’t actually realized the way they treated you through different methods.

Every little thing you did would either irritate them, or anger them. Not that you /personally/ cared about how they’d feel. This was your home now, so you made your own rules on how you lived. That is, until they started getting more violent with their words, hitting you where they knew it’d hurt the most. Going after every little wrong thing about you in whispers from behind the crew.

Luffy blinked when he watched you stand up to go somewhere else. You were dead silent, not even a sniffle of a cry would leave your lips. That worried him. “Y/n-san??...” He’d call out. No response. That got him to panic and get up to follow you, telling Chopper to follow him as well. This startled your parents, seeing you just, walk into the ship to get to your bedroom so you could just...Keel over. /You were done/. But, you didn’t hear Luffy or Chopper following you not that far behind

The three of you went into your bedroom, and the two boys stood there. You snapped, falling on your knees to just...Cry it out. You’ve been holding it in for the past week now, you normally didn’t snap like this but, you couldn’t help it. This got Luffy to run towards you and hug you tightly...Very tight, he didn’t want you to hurt yourself or feel alone. His body just moved on his own.

Seeing this, Chopper panicked, leaving the room to grab some medicine to help calm down your nerves, and request some calming tea from Sanji. While he was doing this, Luffy kept you in his arms, holding you in his lap so you felt secure and safe, even if it was for a short amount of time until you stopped crying.

It honestly took him a lot longer to realize what was going on at first. In the beginning of your relationship with him, you had to tell him bluntly of how your mental state worked, and that sometimes, you just needed certain stuff to be repeated until you were mentally safe again.

But this time was different than the others. It seemed like Zoro refused to let you do anything too stressful (without babying you...He learnt that the hard way), so that way it wouldn’t affect you mentally so you could stay stable enough to know what was happening, or so you won’t hurt yourself.

For the last few months, your family was boarded the ship in the guest bedroom. Your mother, father, and grandmother were traveling together but, their small ship got raided by bad pirates and burned at sea so, Luffy had saved them despite your fair warnings that they where “No Good Assholes” or that “They Should Just Drown.” He didn’t quite get it at first.

Until their nagging at certain stuff was starting to get on his nerves. “Why can’t we just throw them overboard!?” He’d sometimes complain, followed by a, “We can throw them overboard on an island! We’re not that heartless!” from Nami. She was right, and got did that drive Luffy nuts.

Zoro didn’t pay much attention to how everybody else had felt with your parents and grandmother. He only focused on you and how you felt, constantly staying close to you whenever you were alone, sensing that you were uncomfortable being alone with them for very long. “Honestly y/n...You eat too much! How are you going to find an attractive young man for a husband if you eat like a pig?” Your mother said one time, which made quite a few of the members go silent.

That was your last straw for you. You stood up, tossed the food at her face, and then stormed off angerly, annoyed with how much they’ve been going after you for every little fucking detail you’d do, finding ways to somehow make you feel small.

“H-Hey! Y/n!” Zoro said while chasing after you, worried that you’d harm yourself after the past stressful few months at sea with your family. He was slightly too late though, as he hears you throwing up the food you’d just ate in the bathroom. That’s It. He was /pissed/.

The crew had separated from the family, leaving them alone with Zoro after he came out, pointing his swords at them, “Thanks to you, y/n had to throw up her food because of your comments towards her. She should not have to risk her health to please you! Now, GET OFF OUR SHIP!” he shouted, tossing them overboard in a blind rage. “Zoro!! We could’ve waited until the next Isla--” “SHUT YOUR YAP NAMI! THEY SHOULD BE THANKFUL I’M NOT KILLING THEM MYSELF!” Zoro cuts off Nami.

After that, Zoro went back to you, seeing that you needed him even more so than ever. He held you in his lap on his bed and allowed you to just, cry it out. Something that he knows you’ve been holding back because of your folks being with them. “I love you y/n..Don’t ever do that again ok? They’re gone now, you don’t need to risk your health to please them anymore...Let alone Us.” He says while you start to fall asleep in his arms.

Sanji knew you had an awkward mental state. He was able to sense anybody’s feelings being the emotional one out of his brothers, but even so, he was way more in-tune to a woman’s than a man (aside from his crew. Because they’re precious to him).

So, he knew that you were really struggling to keep it together ever since your judgmental, and abusive parents had joined the crew (not by choice really). This man tried everything in the book to try and make your experience a little easier to handle, but he knew that these tricks would only work for so long. He felt helpless after a while.

You and your parents were arguing again, for the third time /today/. Quite frankly, they were starting to get on everybody’s nerves. But, something you had shouted at them concerned Sanji, and worried everybody else, “WOULD ME BEING DEAD BE BETTER FOR YOU TWO TO JUST...ACCEPT ME FOR WHO I AM!?” You snapped.

They went silent, which didn’t add anything better to this argument, if anything, you read that as a strong “Yes It Would.” from them. You stood there and then chuckled, “Fine....Get them off of my ship.” You told Luffy, which made him chuckle and grab them to throw them off the ship and on the Island they were boarding on for food and other supplies as well.

Sanji knew something was up when you just /chuckled/ and then walked away to go back to your room. He followed you there, making sure that you didn’t do anything harmful...Thankfully he was there to stop you from hurting yourself, you held the bottle tightly in your hand, drinking from it, knowing you were a light weight.

“Stop y/n-san...” Sanji spoke as he held your arm to stop you from drinking. This irritated you but, you did as he commanded anyways. Sanji then removed the bottle from your grip, you watched him remove it from you as if it was in slow motion. Only to start sobbing quietly, having forced yourself to learn to cry softly so your folks couldn’t hear you be sad.

Sanji only stayed there to help you let it out, hugging you firmly in his lap on the kitchen floor, he cooed you softly and rubbed your back, making you feel extremely safe after what happened. “I....I-I’m sor--” You hiccupped, only to be cut off, “Shhh. Don’t be y/n-san. I’m here, we’re all here for you.” He repeated, cooing you until you’d fallen asleep in his embrace

#tw// depression #tw// suicidal thoughts #tw// suicidal attempts #tw// alcohol consumption #tw// abusive families #tw// throwing up #tw// abuse #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #one piece x reader

[rentsturner]

Bruised Knuckles | Mark Renton

Warnings - Reader has punched a wall, mentions/descriptions of injury, mentions of (non-specified) scars, alcohol and drugs, content that some people may find as very similar to self-harm, reader is paranoid and insecure. If any of this triggers you pls don’t continue to read. I’ve tried to note all the possible triggers.

wc - 1.7k

a/n - I’ve had a pretty shitty few days tbh and I still feel the lowest that I’ve felt in months. So I’ve channeled all of that into this fic. It’s quite angst heavy but there’s fluff at the end (what can I say, hurt and comfort is my shit). You may find the reader’s emotions a bit dramatic but I’ve basically self projected on to this and I’m not rlly arsed. Read the warnings and if you don’t like it, don’t read it. I don’t want any shit over this

It’s a cold day in Edinburgh, the skies grey and cloudy over the city.It’s been a long day without Mark. He’s been out since the early hours with Sickboy, no doubt dragged into another of Si’s infamous schemes, leaving you to spend the day alone in your tiny apartment. As much as you don’t want to admit it, the isolation has gotten to you - you slipped, more than once. Yeah, you regret it, but also there’s that nagging need for more at the back of your mind. You try to push it out, to forget about it, but the cold in the air doesn’t help to ease the ache in your knuckles.

The door to the apartment shuts with a click and a jangle of keys, footsteps heading towards the door. He’s back. A wave of relief, before you remember and your chest clenches in panic.

‘Alright, love?’ Mark flops onto the bed with a lazy grin, stretching his arms up over his head.

‘Yeah, fine, you?’ Keep it simple. You busy yourself with a stack of books by the bed, straightening the pile of novels so it’s not about to topple over. Keep the hand busy.

‘Yeah, alright. Si led us on a fucking wild goose chase but we got there in the end, y’know?’

You didn’t know, but you nodded along anyway and let him recount the story. You’re admiring the way his lashes flutter against his pale skin and how his arms flex as his hands come to rest behind his head, when you realise that Mark’s stopped talking. And you’ve stopped moving.

‘Your knuckle...” his eyes dart down to the hand you’ve been trying to hide ever since he walked through the door. Busted.

‘Oh.’ You move to get up, anything to get his eyes away from your swollen knuckles, red lines criss crossing over the flowering purple bruises where your hand collided with a solid wall. Multiple times. The open cuts are still weeping, even though it had happened hours ago.

‘It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.’ You offer a small smile, but it doesn’t fool Mark.

‘No.’ He moves as you do, standing in front of the bedroom door to block your escape. His arms are crossed over his chest, stance serious , but the worry in his blue eyes betrays him. ‘Love. Let me see it.’

He holds out his hand, pale fingers reaching out to you, his skin just as scarred as yours - different actions, same result. He knows how to help. The hand reaching,an offer of support, reassurance, love, all those things that you crave but can never admit. Emotions aren’t your forté - never have been.But Mark knows that. There’s no secrets between you. You almost laugh out loud at the thought. No secrets, but you won’t even show Mark your hand.

Mark would do anything for you, you know that - he tells you all the time. Days spent in bed chatting shit to each other.

‘I’d run to John O'Groats and back for you, y’know?’

‘Would you now, Mark? What about down to Land’s End?’

‘In a heartbeat.’

Bright eyes, wide smile. Your Mark. He’s joking, of course, but his tone is so serious, his answer without a second of hesitation. Your heart skips a beat.

So now, you give him your hand (and your heart).

He takes it tentatively, one cold hand underneath, the other poking at your raw knuckles gently. When one of his prods reaches a tender spot, you wince and he moves his finger away, meeting your gaze in apology.

‘You punch something?’ His brow creases, a hand running instinctively over his closely cropped hair, before scratching at the back of his neck. He refuses to grow it out, no matter how much you try to persuade him, still getting his razor out every other month like clockwork.

‘It’s easier this way.’ He insists. Less hassle in the morning is what he means.

The sting in your hand brings you back to the present.

‘No.’ You look away from Mark’s gaze, knowing that in doing so you’ll give yourself away, but not having the energy or willpower to stop yourself. Much like the ‘incident’ earlier in the day.

‘I’m going to take that as a yes.’ Mark huffs, not in anger, but in frustration - frustration that he wasn’t there to help, to calm you down. ‘Let me clean it up, give me a sec.’

His hand rubs at his eyes, scrunched shut for a moment. There’s dark bags marring his pale skin there - he’s tired too. He goes to move to the bathroom, but you grab his arm with your good hand, gripping it as tight as you can. Don’t leave.

‘No, Mark, it’s alright, I’ll sort it.’

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t look happy. Not that you’d expect him to, but...he’s frustrated with you, you can tell.

‘You can’t clean yourself up with one hand. Just wait here, alright?’

The inkling is worming its way in now, from your subconscious to your conscious, until its at the forefront of your mind. He’s angry, he’s disgusted, he’s going to leave. He’s not going to the bathroom, he’s going to the front door so he can get out of here. You’re sure of it.

‘I’m sorry.’ The whisper escapes you and you have to bite the inside of your cheek so no tears will spill. The words are almost silent, your hand dropping Mark’s in defeat.

But Mark turns his head at your weak apology, stopping in his tracks.

‘What? Why -‘

With a jolt, he notices the way you’ve changed - unable to look at him, arms beginning to wrap around yourself, one fist clenched. He knows what’s happening.

‘No, no, love, I’m not angry.’

He’s back at your side in a heartbeat, bringing his hand up to your chest, thumb carefully wiping away the rogue tear that’s tracking a salty path over your cheekbone.

‘I love you. I just want the best for you, alright? I don’t like seeing you hurt, just like I’d fucking hope you wouldn’t like seeing me hurt.’

His face breaks into a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you realise he’s right - of course he is. You don’t want to see him hurt, he’s been through enough, but that’s what you’re doing. He’s hurting just from seeing your hand, it’s obvious from the crease in his brow, the blue of his eyes dulled and flat. Mark’s got too much to deal with already, you’re just one extra problem to add to the mix. You don’t want to be his problem.

And suddenly it’s all coming up to the surface, ready to combust, explode, these emotions that you never really have a grip on. You bottle them up and push them down, so far down that the only way they can escape is through a rush of anger, jagged and uncontrollable.

But instead of that, you bury your face into Mark’s neck and let it out as slowly as you can.

‘I’m sorry, I was angry, I just wanted to feel something. Some pain. I don’t want to make you feel like this. I’m sorry.’

You’re clutching onto the worn fabric of Mark’s shirt like your life depends on it. You can’t possibly let go of him, the only one you have left.

Mark is steady, your rock in a storm of emotions. He listens, stroking your hair, pale fingers threading through the strands to knead at your scalp, knowing it tends to calm you down.

‘You’re alright, I promise. I promise you, love. I know you get angry. I know you. And I know what it’s like to want to feel something, trust me. We can get through it together, or we can be a mess together. I don’t care, as long as we’re together, honest. I’m not going anywhere.’

And the sincerity in his eyes, those familiar bright blue eyes, it convinces you. He means it.

You stay like this for a few minutes, your good hand clinging onto Mark’s ratty jumper, the other grasped tightly (but not too tightly) in Mark’ grip. His right arm is around your waist, pulling you closer, as if in doing so he can pour all of his reassurance, all of his love, directly to your heart. He knows it’s not possible. But he tries anyway. Because he’ll do anything for you. Your Mark.

Mark helps you clean your hand later, shushing you everything you wince (though that isn’t often). His hands are steady and practiced as he dabs at the cuts with alcohol, wrapping the gauze over your knuckles and securing it with some tape, humming to himself as he works, the steady tune in time with his deft movement. He doesn’t look up until the job is done - and a good job it is too. He knows what he’s doing, probably after years of wrapping Sickboy’s hands up in the same way - late nights out in the rough streets of Leith, fuelled by alcohol and amphetamines (and worse)

Mark kisses the bandages gently when he’s done - a silent ‘I love you. I care for you and I love you.’

And you smile, a smile that fills your whole body with warmth, a smile that drowns out the demons, if only for a little while. Because how can you not, when you have Mark. He tries his best and so do you - neither of you can ask anymore. You’ll be a mess together.

‘Let’s order Chinese and watch Dr No, eh?’

Or you’ll get through this together

*~*~*~*

@callmearwen @ohhellokenobi @darthserling @stardancerluv @goldenkenobi @lunarthoughts @saintlaurentkenobi @million-dollar-legs @i-am-i-am-obiwankenobi @letmybabysleep @haydens-moles @alideetoo @all-hallows-evie @junkieboyfriend @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @star-whores-a-new-hoe @arianalilyblack @sigynragnarsdottir @funkytxwn @drinksomecoco @darlingkenobi

#mark renton imagine #mark renton x reader #mark renton #mark renton headcanons #trainspotting #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #fic recs #my writing #scotland #mark renton blurb #mark renton one shot #alex law

[four-rabbit]

Here lies Roman García Lopez

Roman is not dead, calm down

This is just a small oneshot from the ghost au about Roman coming out as trans to Remus when they were teenagers.

Warnings: swearing, hospitals, self-deprecation, misgender, mentions of transphobia, talks of death

Obs: in some descriptions I'll be refering to Remus and Roman with she/her pronouns, but thats specifically when I'm describing their thoughts and they are referring to themselves or each other with those pronouns, since Remus didn't know he was trans here and Roman is coming out. When I'm not describing their thoughts I'll be referring to them solely by he/him pronouns.

If you tag this as r*mrom I'll punch you

The twins used to be best friends. They would play in the backyard and braid each other's hair and laugh and cry and almost forget all the ways that the world was cold and merciless.

So so merciless.

The Duke analyzed his nails as if they were the most interesting thing he had ever seen and the silence was so dense it could be cut with a knife. He wanted to talk, he really wanted to. He wanted to talk about the last movie he watched and gossip about their classmates and make jokes that were questionable to say the least and wanted to see her sister laugh and look alive again. But what would she say? At this point, what did they have in common? What could she do? Open her mouth just to throw all that filthy that was inside her mind at her poor sister? Talk about her life and about how she was a disgusting piece of garbage? Ruin those few hours that they had together? Yeah, as their mother would always say, if you have nothing nice to say just shut up. 

The Duke felt like he never had anything nice to say.

"How is school going?" The one in the hospital bed started. Panic dominated The Duke's eyes and he didn't move for a good ten seconds, looking like he wasn't even breathing until he shrugged.

"As shitty as always, you know. The usual stuff" 

"I wish I was there" The Princess sighed.

"Nah, you don't, it's the most boring thing ever, I got a shitton of homework and also tomorrow I got a fucking chemistry test and I don't even know if I'm going to study, you got it easy, dude" as soon as those words left his mouth he regretted it "No, I'm kidding, that was stupid, this sucks too I know, but if I could I would just leave school, I mean who cares?"

"You can't do that. School is important"

 The Duke didn't say anything. He had a lot of answers but none of them were nice. And he wanted to be nice to The Princess, at least. He had lost everybody else, even Virgil, even Virgil, she was not going to lose her sister too. 

"Why did you call me?" Finally said.

"What?"

"Dad said that you wanted to talk to me. Specifically. Why?" 

"I have to ask you for a favor"

"What is it? Yes, I can get you drugs" The Princess raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"What? I'm sure it would make the hospital more interesting, no judgments."

"No. No, it's not that" he was so tense and that was stressing the Duke out. He closed his mouth shut because when he was nervous he rambled and when he rambled he always ended up saying the worst possible things. The Princess took a breath as if it was a battle to take the words out of his throat.

"I'm afraid that I'm going to die"

"A lot of people are" said before he could contain himself. That should have earned at least a chuckle from the Princess but he didn't make a sound.

"No. No. I mean- what I mean is…" he decided to just rip it off like a band aid "I feel like I’m going to die in a few days. I think-"

"Bullshit!" The Duke snapped without warning, startling his brother. "You have no fucking right to say that!" Is it really that easy to make him cry?

"It's true! I- I can feel it, okay? Death is following me"

"Death has always followed you, you stupid fuck, you're like a godamn death magnet!"

"Yeah but it's different now, I- look, how I know doesn't matter, I need you to do something for-"

"I'm not doing shit for you!" Ok that's a lot of emotion for someone who was completely numb the entire week, Duke's body has grown unused to feelings apparently, as he was shaking and burning and screaming and crying and wanting to curl up in a ball and die.

"Just listen-"

"Fuck you!" The Duke covered his ear to show that he wasn't going to listen but also suddenly because everything was too much. Too much noise, too much light, too much, too much. "I'm going to tell your doctor and she's going to say that's bullshit because that's bullshit you can't just die!" Yelled at the top of his lungs. She couldn't lose her sister, no, no, everyone but her.

"I need you to change my name in my gravestone!" said as loudly as his brother, sitting up. That took The Duke by surprise and he uncovered his ears in confusion.

"What?"

"When I die, mom and dad will pay for a gravestone and its going to have a name on it" 

"You're not-"

"Fucking listen to me! I don't want to die too, for fucks sake, but I need to be ready when it happens!" The Princess finally snapped in his despair to be listened to. His brother stopped and seemed to consider his options until, slowly, sat down again.

"What do you mean, [...]?" he said his brother's deadname.

"Exactly that. That name. It's not my name"

"Are you high?"

"Look" he ran his hand through his hair, frustrated "I had a lot of time to think. I- I did some research and… I- I'm not a girl" The Duke didn't say anything. For once in his life he had no idea what to say. "Yeah. I've always felt like that. Like something was… off. Wrong. That someone made a mistake when-" he gestured toward his body "I'm not telling mom and dad. They wouldn't understand, they never understand shit. But I know you will, sister"

"Wait, hold the fuck up, what are you saying? If you're not a girl, what the fuck are you then?" The Princess swallowed, scared to say it out loud. There would be no coming back if he did it. He raised his hand to compliment the teenager in front of him, shaking from head to toe.

"I'm- Roman. Nice to meet you." he was crying already, trying to not let his voice fail him "I'm your brother, I'm a trans man and I don't want to die just to be remembered by the wrong name"

Trans man. Trans. A word that was known but still sounded like a secret. Forbidden. 

The Duke looked at his brother's hand. Then he looked at his face, with his long hair and tears and all that fear in his eyes. 

And he understood, that was what scared him the most. 

"Something was off. Something was wrong. Someone made a mistake"

"I don't want to be remembered by the wrong name"

He understood every single word on a deep personal level, he knew that despair, that fear.

He shaked his brother's hand, who immediately melted in relief.

"Roman. You're going to live." Said with that same caring voice that he used when they were kids and Roman had nightmares and he would sing lullabies completely out of tune until his brother fell asleep, delicately cleaning his brother's tears. “You're going to live and you're going to make sure that mom and dad remember you right. I promise"

"But what if I-"

"No! No" The Duke interrupted, not allowing his brother to finish that phrase, not again. "You know what. You're coming with me" announced, starting to look through the closet for some clothes his brother could use.

"... what?"

"We are leaving this shithole" 

"I can't leave the hospital [...]!" deadname. 

"I don't want to be remembered by the wrong name"

The Duke closed his eyes and when he turned back to his brother he was smiling almost maniacally.

"Yes, you can" he found some sweater pants and a black tshirt "Here, put this on. This place is fucking you up. Mom is fucking you up, this is her fault. We are going out and you're going to live. You're going to live" an idea came to his mind "Do you want to cut your hair?" Roman looked at the clothes on his hands. Then at the teenager looking at him full of expectation. Deep down Roman knew. Staying there was not helping. It was making things worse, he knew even deeper down. And if he was dying he wanted to die by his sister's side.

"Yes. I want to cut my hair" admitted. He didn't hate his long hair, it was pretty and brushing it was relaxing. But he hated how it made everyone think he was a girl. "But mom will be pissed"

"What doesn't piss that woman off?" Exclaimed exasperated and Roman opened the smallest grin.

"Yesterday they gave me strawberry juice instead of orange juice and she threw an entire fucking tantrum"

"Exactly. If she was a little bit whiter she would be a textbook Karen" that made Roman giggle.

"She would. Are we actually doing this?"

"Of course we're! Now get ready, Princes- Princey" Roman smiled widely.

"I like Princey"

"I thought you would" Roman got dressed and The Duke gave him his black hoodie.

"So you won't get recognized" explained.

"I'm sure nobody is going to try to arrest me if they see me sneaking out, thank you very much. Also what was the last time you washed this? It smells like shit" actually Roman would never comment on it out loud but his sister was generally a mess. With hair that wasn't brushed in days and wasn't washed in an even longer time, smudged make up all over her face and dirty baggy clothes. If only he had connected the dots before it was too late.

"I'm sure you'll survive" replied sharply, opening the door.

The hoodie didn't help.

" What are you doing here Ms. Garcia? Do you want anything?" The first nurse that saw them was quick to ask. 

"Ahn…" The Duke opened his mouth to explain. Then close it again.

"I just wanted to take some air, my sister came to visit me and we thought it would be cool to go outside real quick" Roman came to rescue him.

"Your sister…" slowly her gaze went to the other teenager "Oh, you. I'm not sure I can allow that. Not without your mother's permission" 

"You can come with us, then! My mom wouldn't like to know that you're keeping me stuck in my room. Like a prisoner" the nurse looked worried. Their mom had a reputation around the hospital and it wasn't a good one.

"Just five minutes, okay?"

"Wonderful!" Roman winked in his brother's direction, who opened a smile and they were both guided toward the front of the hospital, where there was a small decorative garden. 

"What now?" The Duke whispered, gesturing toward the nurse with his head, she was way too close. Roman looked around and his eyes stopped at one specific point. 

"There"

"What?"

"There's a cat"

"I don't see anything"

"Its because its not alive" the animals souls were the easiest to attract and even control. "Her" Roman said in an almost sing-song voice. The cat tilted its head, an empty hole in the place where its left eye was supposed to be and, without warning, threw itself at the nurse, emitting a meow that from her perspective came out of thin air and made the poor woman scream in surprise.

"Now!" And Roman started running. His brother only stopped to giggle before running too. When she noticed that the kids were missing they were already far away. 

"Fuck, that was fun!" Roman exclaimed as he recovered from the run, still breathing with some difficulty. His brother enjoyed the feeling for a little longer. He almost felt alive for a minute. 

"Of course it was, it was my idea"

"I mean I was the one who fooled the nurse, all you did was stutter"

"Oh, shut up. It's not my fault everyone likes you best"

"Everyone is stupid. You're the cooler twin"

"Don't you come at me with your compliments!" Roman laughed, a genuinely laugh that filled his brother with happiness and warmth. 

"Right. What do we do now? I'm still totally down for that haircut"

"Well first of all we're going to steal some scissors because I'm totally broke-"

"Oh my god!" Roman exclaimed in disbelief "My own sister! Wanting to make me a criminal!"

If you get to be brother why do I have to be sister?

Remus ignored that thought for the time being. 

"You're not going to regret it! We can steal some chocolate too!" replied, putting his arm around his brother's shoulders. Roman rolled his eyes.

"Oh my life would be so dull without you" The one that would call himself Remus in the future smiled. And I wouldn't be alive without you, thought to himself.

#roman sanders #remus Sanders #creativitwins #ghost au #rabbit writes #fanfic #cw swearing #tw hospital #tw death mention