#it’s been weeks since she drew this and i’m still in awe over it

[purrfectlycontent]

i love having artist friends because whenever i have an idea i can give them the most wacky looking stick figures and they make it into a masterpiece

what i gave her to work with vs what she sketched:

(everyone should totally check out her tumblr @falbedo)

#my ramblings #she said she thought kdj was a bat at first GSJDGSJ #it’s been weeks since she drew this and i’m still in awe over it #she finally came back to work on this piece and i can’t wait to see how it turns out #orv #omniscient reader’s viewpoint #yoo joonghyuk #kim dokja #joongdok

[bunny-bear-blogs]

The Plush Toy

Synopsis: A few weeks ago, when attending the Twins show, Lynette gave you a special plush toy. What’s so special about this toy, you might ask? It looks just like Fontaine’s most famous magician. Also known as the boy magician you have been crushing on for years on end.

Word Count: 1838

A/N: It's my first time writing a fic :>

A couple weeks ago, Lyney invited you to see his and Lynette’s performance at the Opera Epiclese. He was a bit nervous, since this was his first performance after he and his twin were accused of being the main culprits in the serial disappearance case of women. Which thankfully, the Traveller disputed the charge and proved the twins both innocent. Along with this, the Iudex, Neuvillette, felt bad for the way things went down on the last show at the Opera Epiclse, so much so that he invited the twins to perform there once again, but of course this time with no accusatory murder charges being presented. Before the show started, you agreed to meet up with Lyney and Lynette backstage. You were excited to go see the twins. Most of all, to see Lyney, your longtime friend who you’ve liked and pined over for ages. You’ve known him since you first moved to Fontaine.

On your first day there, you ran into an area where he was performing one of his magic shows. You stopped in awe, completely amazed at the way the twins orchestrated their magic shows. With each trick having a new twist and turn, you became further intrigued, and your interest and joy for magic strengthened . After attending numerous times, his magic shows had become somewhat of a daily routine for your new life in Fontaine. Back then, his shows weren’t as popular or drew in as big of a crowd, but you would still always make sure to attend. Lyney had noticed you one day; well, he had always noticed you since you first came to see his show, but on that day he spoke to you after his show ended. Your conversations with him started off small and very professional; however, as time went on they turned longer and more personal, eventually leading to full blown conversations and going to get a coffee together. Years later, the two of you had become good friends with additional feelings for him residing on your side. 

Entering through the backstage doors, you spot Lyney and Lynette discussing a potential new magic trick. You walk over to the twins, ready to have a conversation with them—the conversation you had been mentally preparing in your head for over a week. Ever since hearing the false accusations presented to the twins and having almost lost them forever made you realize that life is too short to be hiding your feelings for someone you care deeply about. Which is why you vowed to confess your feelings to Lyney within the month and, while waiting to get the courage to do so, to drop hints of your feelings for him. Which is why, since knowing you would be meeting, you started rehearsing how the conversation would go and exactly what you would say. It was the perfect plan, all until, before you could even utter a word to Lyney, a member of the crew asked for him to lend him a hand, and Lyney, being the kind guy he is, agreed. This left you alone with Lynette. Which was not bad since you loved hanging out with the cat-ear girl, but you really wanted to drop hints to Lyney and get yourself closer to the goal of asking him out. I mean, you vowed to do so after all. Suddenly Lynette spoke; she was straightforward in her words: “Hey, y/n, don’t tell Lyney. I’m giving you this, but here.” You looked at the feline girl in confusion as to what she could be referring to. Suddenly, Lynette pulled out a handcrafted doll of Lyney and placed it in your hands. It looked just like him. It had his ashy blonde hair, his dazzling violet eyes, the noticeable teardrop mark on his cheek, and his signature outfit, topped with the doll's smiling expression. “I made it the other day on a whim, and I wanted you to have it. I mean, after all, you do like my brother, don’t you?” I internally panicked. A thousand thoughts ran through my brain about how to deny the accusations. However, all that came out was, "Haha, what gave you that impression?” “Just a guess." Said Lynette, followed by her quickly lowering her voice to a whisper and saying, "Even so, looking at things, I’d say that dummy’s infatuated with you too.” Not hearing what Lynette whispered, and with the doll of Lyney in my hands, I said, “Thank you, Lynette; I’ll treasure it till the ends of the earth.” “It’s fine, and the show is about to start. It would be trouble for us if you didn't get to your seat before the show started. '' I nodded and waved bye to Lynette, and she returned the favor. Then, swiftly, I made my way to my seat with the Lyney plush doll in hand.

Fast forward to now, and Lyney is currently sulking in the corner of my room, saying that all I ever pay attention to is that doll. It’s been a week since Lynette gave you the Lyney plush, and from then to now, you have taken that plush everywhere. Getting brunch with a friend? Don’t forget to take little Lyney, the name you deemed the plush to have. Going to see the Twins show? Don’t forget to take little Lyney. Going around exploring Fontaine? Don’t forget little Lyney! I assume you get the picture now. Anyway, Lyney has started to get annoyed at you for bringing that thing everywhere you go. Not to mention, you're always hugging it and calling it loving names. I mean, why are you even giving that plush that much attention and love when the real thing is right in front of you? Lyney wasn't going to deal with you obsessing over that plush of him anymore, and he was going to do something about it today.

You see, your love was not one-sided after all. Lyney has had a massive crush on you since you saw his first show. At first, it was a minor crush, or, as he liked to call it at the time, he was just “intrigued” by you. Which according to Lynette, these were his first words of denial, followed by many until he could no longer deny his feelings for you. He admired your expressions and the radiant smile you’d make when seeing him perform tricks. He loved your love for magic and how every day you’d come back to see more magic tricks saying praise, no matter how sloppy his work was. One day, he finally gathered the courage to talk to you, passing it off as a magician wanting to talk to one of his audience members for feedback on the show. Soon, he started asking you this after every show and eventually included small talk too. Moving forward, the small talk turned into meaningful conversations, which turned into lifelong long friendship. During this, Lyney got to see more of the person you are and fell in love even harder. Lyney couldn’t contain his feelings for you anymore. I mean, it was so obvious. Everyone knew. Lynette knew, Freminet knew, Navia knew, Silver knew, Melus knew, the twins magic crew knew, heck even Neuvillette knew, basically all of Fontaine was able to tell that Lyney loved Y/N. Everyone knew but her. I mean, he tried to drop hints by flirting with her, but she would just pass it off as Lyney being Lyney. Except it wasn't; he meant every pick-up line and compliment he told her. Then the plush came. She started being loving and affectionate with a mini plush of him. He wasn’t sure why it irked him, but it did. I mean, it’s of him after all, a perfect replica of him, and the real thing is right here, so why not love him instead?

"Lyney, I do pay attention to you too, and not just little Lyney.” “Then get rid of that goofy-looking little plush." He pouted, only turning back to face me when talking. “But Lyney, look at it. Y/N raises the doll to the sky and then brings it back down to give it a long hug. It's so adorable!” Lyney rolled his eyes and sighed. “Once again, why do you even like that thing when the real thing is right here?” huh? huh? huh? Did Lyney really just say that? Once again, your brain ran miles trying to comprehend what the ashy blonde just said. Is he implying that I should be showing him love instead of the plush? “Are you jealous that I’m paying attention to this plush instead of you, Lyney?” He turned around, rushing to tuck his hat down to hide his face. However, this was a horrible attempt since the blush spreading across his face was still very noticeable. “Maybe I am jealous, but I’d like to point out that it's something else too," he said meekly, still clearly flustered. “Now what would that be, Lyney?” Suddenly, he stood up, walked over to Y/N, and took your hand, causing the plush toy to drop. “Y/N I’m in love with you, and I can’t stand you being in love with anyone else. I’ve loved you since that day you came to my magic show for the first time, and since then, my feelings have just gotten stronger for you. I’m a magician, but back then I didn’t see magic as anything more than something that tricks people into believing the nonreal. Because of that ideology, I found it hard to believe true, real magic could exist. But when you came into my life, everything shifted, and I found myself being a believer in magic because magic brought us together. He paused for a second, his words finally catching up to him, and broke out in a red blush. Now that I told you how I feel, how do you feel,  Mademoiselle?” "I feel the same, Lyney. I’ve been in love with you for ages, and seeing you being falsely accused made me realize that nothing in life is guaranteed. That’s why I want to take a chance on my feelings for you, like you did for me. I’m in love with you too, Lyney.” Upon hearing this, he took her other hand into his and knelt down. "Y/N, would you do me the honor of going out with me?” He then waved his hand, and out of thin air, a bouquet of roses came out, tied together with a red ribbon. You then exclaimed, “Yes!” wondering if you'd ever feel as happy as you do now. Starting now, a beautiful, blossoming romance began between the two of you that is bound to last forever.

#genshin headcannons #genshin imagines #genshin impact #lyney #lyney and lynette #lyney x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin oneshots #lyney x you #lyney genshin #fluff #genshin fluff #plush toy #fontaine #female reader #x reader

[call-me-eds]

Bathtime

Masterlist

Eddie x Reader

Fluff, fluff, fluff with our boy Eddie.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you mean never?”

“Well, I’m sure I had some in the sink as a baby, but nothing else that I can remember.” 

He had to be joking. There was no way your boyfriend had never taken a bath.

“Well with my parents I would be slapped silly if I used that much water. When I moved in with Wayne, he doesn’t have a tub. So no baths for little ol’ me,” he shrugged.

Oh, you were going to need to change this.

Weekends were usually reserved for you and Eddie, but you separated right after dinner on Sundays unless there was a concert or special event going on. You had to wind down for the beginning of the week, and one of your favorite ways to do that was by taking a bath. A couple of candles lit, bubbles almost pouring over the edge, a good book, and an uninterrupted hour of calming rejuvenation. 

Eddie never getting to experience that was a travesty, it was an injustice! How did you never know this about him? You immediately jumped into action.

Less than a week went by since you found out the most disturbing thing Eddie could possibly be hiding about himself. You went to the store on Thursday night to get some new body scrubs, a black loofah, and even an essential oil variety pack. You were a tea tree person, but thought Eddie would prefer a lighter scent.

There wasn’t a person who you could think of that deserved a night of relaxation more than your boyfriend. He had been putting in an immense amount of work lately: overtime at the garage, helping Uncle Wayne repair the roof after his shifts, and always making time for you amid his campaigns. It would be exhausting for anyone, much less someone who had been having trouble sleeping because the moonlight came right through the thin ceiling above his bed. That was the last part of the roof they’d be fixing.

So you were bringing him to Steve’s for a romantic evening. An oxymoron, you realized, but there was no way your parents would let your boyfriend take a bath in your house, and you’d be far too uncomfortable to even think of it. Steve’s was the next best option, even if it was your only one. 

“I thought you said there was a party,” Eddie questioned as you walked up to the seemingly quiet house. Steve opened the door with a smug smile. 

“Well, good evening,” he said, stepping aside so you could walk in. “Bathroom for two, right? The deluxe package?”

“What are you talking about?” Eddie was still confused, not having any idea what your plan really was. 

“Aw you kept it a surprise? That’s so sweet,” Robin’s voice from the couch drew your attention to the living room. You were hoping she’d be there. Now, if you stayed with Eddie, the thought of Steve alone downstairs wouldn’t be in the back of your minds. If Eddie preferred to be alone, you and Steve wouldn’t be awkwardly sharing the couch with the thought of him naked upstairs at the forefront of your minds for very different reasons.

“Kept what a surprise? What’s happening, are you going to beat me up or something?” Eddie asked, impatience in his voice.

“I’ll show you,” you smiled, grabbing his hand. “Be back down in a bit,” you promised Steve and Robin. He saluted you and she winked, turning back towards the large TV and making Eddie even more bewildered.

It took a lot of self control for you not to run up the stairs, so excited to give Eddie the gift of peace. You reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the lighter you knew was there. He rolled his eyes while you slunk into the bathroom, making him wait in the hallway. The candles you handed off to Steve earlier weren’t lit and the tub empty; you wanted Eddie to walk into pure serenity. After a minute, you were ready for him.

“Okay! Come in.” The door was slowly pushed open and bashfulness quickly enveloped you. He fully stepped inside and looked around at the candles, the freshly filled tub, and you standing in the very middle of it all. 

“What is this?” he asked, reaching out for your hand. You took hold for a moment before letting go, sliding your hands up his chest to slip his jacket off of his shoulders.

“I wanted you to experience a proper bath, not in the sink,” you shrugged, playing this off like you were giving him a candy bar, as if you weren’t doing the nicest thing for him anyone ever had.

“Oh,” he breathed, letting the leather fall from him to a heap on the floor. Vulnerability was in the air, thicker than the smoke from the candles.

“I can go downstairs with Steve and Robin if you want some privacy,” you said, hoping he would tell you not to go. He didn’t say it, but the way he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest was clear enough. His fingers scratched your back gently and you weaved yours into his hair, hoping that he’d let you braid it later.

Eddie was holding you with a soft pressure, tight enough to feel his heart beating, but soft enough to slip out of his grasp if you wanted to. Like that would happen.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pulling his head back enough to press his lips to yours. Like his grasp, it was firm but sweet, and left you wanting so much more. With Eddie, most things you wanted he gave with no hesitation, but some things you had to take.

You grabbed the front of his shirt and brought him closer, hoping to get enough traction against him to part his lips with your own. He opened them eagerly and you licked into his mouth, tasting the cigarettes and licorice that he was incessantly eating to try and combat the nicotine cravings. 

Eddie groaned, his emotion pouring through his fingers that dug into your waist. He was able to push you back a step so you were leaning against the sink. The coolness against your back made you suck in a breath, but it probably was more due to Eddie.

The noise of a movie starting up on the floor below you snuck its way into Eddie’s ear, but your whine quickly drowned it out. His hand was inching up your shirt, but once he heard the microwave beeping, he was past the point of return.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he pulled away, breathing hard. “Baby, this is so nice, but honestly all I am thinking about right now is Harrington and Buckley downstairs.” You nodded and took a deep breath, resting your forehead against his chest. You stood there in silence for a moment, calming your heart rates. They were rarely at a normal level when you were together, though.

“The water’s going to get cold,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Are these things supposed to be warm? You have to teach me, remember?” he teased. You grinned and untangled your arms from his. 

“Well step number one is usually to take off your clothes,” you said, making him blush a bit. He never would imagine denying you the task of removing his clothes, and when you slightly pushed him off of you he forgot why for a second. “I’ll be downstairs, okay?”

“Hold on,” he reached out to grab his wrist before you could open the door. “You can still stay. There’s no reason you shouldn’t get to relax, too. Especially after you did all of this for me,” he said. Truthfully, he would feel even more exposed if you left him alone right now. He’d rather have Steve and Robin think that the two of you were hooking up in Steve’s bathroom than know the three of you were downstairs while he was taking a bath. 

“Okay,” you smiled, kissing him softly one more time before separating fully. The water was still warm, but you let it drain for a few seconds so you could fill it with fresh, piping hot water. 

The fabric collecting on an unfamiliar bathroom floor while you two undressed looked out of place, it made you feel like you were doing something you weren’t supposed to.

Eddie was still fumbling with his shoelaces when you tied your hair up to keep it out of the water. You dipped your toe in, immediately shuddering at the change in temperature from the cool air. A sigh escaped from your lips when you lowered yourself into the tub, even larger than the one you had at home. Eddie’s eyes snapped to you and he half-regretted his decision to keep the night PG-13. 

“Come on in, the water’s fine,” you smiled, scooting all the way back against the shower wall. Eddie tentatively put one foot in the water, hissing a bit at the hot temperature. As soon as he had both legs in, though, any tension on his face disappeared like it was never there at all.

He sat opposite of you and smiled, settling in just fine. 

“This feels good,” he said, tapping his hands on the side of the bath and getting a bit of water on the floor from the movement of his arms. You didn’t completely think through how his fidgety demeanor would combine with a large volume of water and an expensive bath mat right over the edge.

“Chill,” you said, grabbing his hands and forcing them together. He sheepishly grinned and started to check out all of the products on the porcelain. His nose scrunched up like a dog’s when he sniffed the bubble bath too closely, and he had to focus not to sneeze.

“Want to put some in?” you asked, leaning forward to take it from him. He nodded like you thought he would. “Come here,” you grabbed his shoulders to swivel him around so his back was against your chest. The liquid poured into the bath, and you instructed Eddie to swish it around with his hand and let the water run for a few seconds to encourage the bubbles to grow. You switched the water off and leaned back again, pulling Eddie with you.

“Am I crushing you?” he asked, turning his head to face you. You just shook your head and closed your eyes, leaning your head back; now that Eddie was acclimated, you were beginning to fall under the familiar spell. 

He was no match for the relief hugging him on all sides. Goosebumps appeared on his arms where you traced up and down with a light touch, and he swore he was in heaven.

“Feel good, Honey?” you asked, barely whispering. He nodded and let out a deep sigh, almost like what he sounded like when he was sleeping, and slid down your body so he was covered in water up to his neck.

“I think I could live here,” he admitted. “You’d get awful pruny,” you laughed, picking up his hand and feeling how soft his skin was already becoming. He slipped his fingers in between yours and clasped them together. When you breathed in, his chest rose from on top of you, it felt like you were one being. Four legs were entangled to become two, you weren’t sure where Eddie ended and you began.

The water began to cool after a while, and you pushed Eddie’s shoulder so he sat up and you could grab the new body wash you bought. The woodsy scent filled the air, and you brought the bottle to Eddie’s nose so he could fully smell it before squirting it on the loofah. Softly, you pressed it into his skin and started to clean him.

It wasn’t sexual, but still extremely intimate.

The soap suds were spreading across his back in places that he could not reach, only hoping that the low water pressure from his showers was getting them clean enough. He kept making over-exaggerated groaning noises and leaning back so you had to use one arm to keep him propped forward and the other to wash him.

“Stop,” you laughed softly, happy that there was an enormous amount of joy in this moment. 

“I can’t, you’re putting me to sleep,” Eddie said, grabbing your hand as it came up over his shoulder and bringing your wrist to his lips. He placed a few soft kisses to your skin before sticking his tongue out in disgust, having gotten soap in his mouth. 

“I’m almost done,” you promised, blindly moving the loofah up and down his abdomen and chest. He nodded and continued to let you service him. 

“Hand me the shampoo?” you asked after a quick swipe of his legs, awkward from his refusal to move even an inch, claiming his bones were jelly.

“Is this Harrington’s nasty shit that’s going to stiff my hair up like cement?” he asked, looking at the bottle as if he would be able to recognize it.

“No, I got this just for you,” you said. The small cup you brought from your own shower was at the ready, filled with clean water. You pressed your hand gently to Eddie’s forehead, asking him to lead his head back so you could pour the water over it. Once you started working your fingers into his scalp, he really was convinced he reached nirvana. 

Gentle but firm, you focused on your massage technique. The lather of the shampoo was developed enough, but you didn’t want to separate from Eddie as much as he wanted to stay connected to you. When you did pull your hand away to help wash away the suds, you were both comforted by the thought of the hairbrush coming soon after.

After working in conditioner to his ends, like you tried to teach him to do so many times, the ritual was over. 

“Okay, your time at the salon has come to an end. Please don’t forget to take a mint and make another appointment before you leave,” you joked, standing up and patting Eddie on the shoulders. “What? No,” he frowned. “Let me wash you next,” he suggested. No matter how badly you wanted that, and how hard it was to refuse him while he pawed at your legs and looked up at you with his intense eyes, the evening was all about pampering him.

“Next time, okay?” you said, unplugging the drain and letting the water swirl away. You quickly rinsed off and grabbed the two freshly washed towels on the sink. It took quite a bit of convincing to get Steve to run them in the dryer again before you got there so Eddie would have warm towels.

“Next time?” he asked, holding your hand to steady you as you stepped out of the tub first. You wrapped one towel around yourself before grabbing the spare. Just a nod, that’s what you gave him, and that’s all he needed. He’d buy a tub and go to plumbing school if it meant getting to do this with you again. 

The soft towel you were rubbing over him collected the spare droplets of water, but the feeling of your fingers beneath it was taking all of his sensation.

“I got that,” he chuckled, taking it from you when you went to kneel on the floor and wipe down his legs. You smiled and he dried off quickly, taking less care with himself than you did. Once the towel was securely around his waist, you were taking the pile of his clean clothes from the seemingly enchanted counter, filled with more than he had in his entire bathroom.

“I am going to clean up, go downstairs and relax,” you said.

Steve was happy to let you use the bathroom for the night, as long as you promised it would be spotless when you were done. He didn’t want a remnant of the two of you left, as he had put it. It was fair enough, you didn’t want to equip anyone with evidence of your special evening together, either.

“Let me help,” he urged, ignoring the clothes you had outstretched to him and starting to pick up the things he knew you brought.

“No!” you said. “This is all for you, and I know there’s nothing you hate more than tidying up. Get dressed, go downstairs, and I will be down there soon.” The look you were giving him left no room to argue, so he settled for an eye roll while he took his clothes from your hand. There was another set of his clothes on the counter, but he knew better than to take your favorites of his.

You dressed beside each other in silence, except for the giggles when the tail of Eddie’s towel smacked you after he put his hair up.

“Okay, go,” you lightly tapped his butt to get him out of the bathroom. 

“Thank you,” he said, kissing you softly before leaving you to clean up. The moment he left the bathroom, the spell you both were under evaporated with the steam on the mirror once the door opened.

Your hands moved in a whirlwind, wanting to finish up and be downstairs with everyone. In record time, you scrubbed the bathtub, emptied the drain, and returned all of Steve’s products to their original spots. You left him one of the candles you bought, partially because you didn’t feel like wasting the time to unpack and repack the bag where you shoved everything to make the last one fit. 

The carpet almost tripped you, but you scurried down the stairs once you were done. Eyes snapped to you as the items in your arms clattered to the counter.

“If there is a single hair, from the head or otherwise-”

“Disgusting!” Robin cut Steve off, moving over on the couch to make room for you. She didn’t need to, Eddie moved from his spot in between the two of them, going right to the floor. He practically ripped the towel from his head and held a hairbrush out to you. You smiled, climbing over Steve’s legs propped up on the coffee table so you could sit on the couch above Eddie. 

“Mm, your hands are like magic,” he groaned. There were gagging noises from either side of you, but you refused to take your hands away from Eddie’s scalp to calm them. Eddie kept his mouth shut after that, just enjoying your fingers weaving through his hair, braiding it meticulously down his back.

When you were done and he stood up, you expected him to wrap you in his arms and take his spot back on the couch, seating you between his legs, but he just extended his hand out to you.

“Ready to go home?” he asked, knowing what you wanted just as much as you did. You nodded and took his hand, letting him help pull you up. 

“You’re not going to stay? Just use my stuff and leave?” Steve asked.

“Pretty much,” you smiled, ruffling his hair as you walked by.

“Seriously, they don’t want to hang out with us losers,” Robin said, smiling and nodding you along to encourage you. 

“We do, how’s tomorrow?” you asked. Eddie hoisted your bag on his shoulder, not stopping for anything to accomplish his goal of being alone with you once again as quickly as possible. You thought that you’d be spending more time at Steve’s house as well, but you were on the exact same page as Eddie, down to the line. 

“Great, we’ll go to the bowling alley or something,” she said.

“No boys allowed,” you nodded, expecting to hear protest from Eddie, but he just picked up his keys and took a few big steps to be back at your side. “If my mom calls-”

“I’ll intercept the call, you’re at my house,” she nodded. You didn’t have to thank her, she knew you appreciated it more than you could express.

“Alright, get out of here,” Steve said, getting up to lock the door behind the two of you. You quickly hugged Robin, giving her your thanks anyway, before going to the front door.

“This was so nice of you, Steve, really. If the cleaning isn’t up to standard-”

“I’m sure it’s the cleanest it’s been in months,” he waved you off. Behind the jokes and the snide comments, Steve really was one of the biggest supporters of your relationship. His friends were happy, and that was all he wanted.

“Thanks, man,” Eddie was simple with it, but Steve knew. The door shut behind you and the fresh air filled your lungs.

“Want me to drive?” you asked. Eddie laughed and shook his head. “You have done more than enough for me tonight,” he dropped the bag in the backseat of the van and you climbed in, giddy with the night. 

There were few things that you loved more than being able to do things like this for Eddie. Anyone could get him a new tape or sit with him through a tattoo, but he wouldn’t let just anyone care for him so intensely. When you first started dating he wouldn’t even ask you to bring over a box of tissues and some cough drops when he had the flu, just suffered in silence to curb the fear of being a burden.

Now, he was letting you bathe with him, bathe him. Through you, Eddie discovered he really, really liked being taken care of, but not as much as he liked doing things to take care of you.

“How about when we get back,” he started, turning the ignition on and starting the quick drive to the trailer. “I put on some music and we just lay in bed for the rest of the night.”

“That sounds perfect,” you nodded, and it really did. 

It was doubtful that the closeness you felt in the Harrington’s bathroom could ever be recreated. If it took laying in bed with the boy you were in love with, sharing whispered hopes, desires, and admissions to try, though, you were more than a willing participant. 

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x you #st4 #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #my writing

[bearhugsandshrugs]

Chapter 2

Read M.A.D. on AO3 | All things M.A.D. Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Explicit | Gortash/Tav

Tav

It had been two months since the defeat of the Netherbrain. Two months that Gortash had spent running the city while she had tried turning down the appointment as co-ruler again and again; until she finally relented for her family’s sake a few weeks ago. He was less than enthusiastic to bring her into what he considered his work. Not to mention the fact that Tav didn’t even want to be there, most of the time.

Still, she gave it her all, trying to remember how her family had run things, and then consciously deciding to do it differently in many ways. All while Gortash watched her like a hawk, furrowing his brows whenever she argued something in a meeting, grimacing whenever she asked him about his reports.

The first two weeks in office had been exactly as dreadful as she had expected. Her days were structured and pre-planned to the last minute: Briefings, meetings one on one with important partriars or in groups, lunch and even dinner appointments, and what little time she didn’t have to spend with others she had to utilize to read through the many many letters, reports, and intel she received. It was rare for her to meet her co-ruler in individual sessions, and today would be the first time in a week that they had time to speak alone.

Not that she didn’t inform him on her actions: Every day she wrote long briefings for Gortash, a short summary on the first page in very rough bullet points, before going into detail on the pages that followed. She would retell encounters and discussions she had, thoughts on certain partriars’ motivations, gossip she picked up, conclusions she drew from that, even ideas and plans and questions for him. Every day she handed those briefings to his assistant. Every day Gortash ignored them, not referring to anything she put in there, let alone replying. 

At this point she wasn’t even sure he read them.

Anyway.

Between the political games of the partriars and nobles and Gortash’s reluctance to cooperate, Tav found herself more and more desperate for a reprieve; some friendly, authentic face that wouldn’t try to trick her into promising something or fawn over her in awe. 

A friend.

Walking into the dining room, Tav took a deep breath in when she saw Gortash still at breakfast, scribbling into one of his notebooks. His hair looked damp and he was wearing a loose shirt, neckline opened deep down his chest, as he seemed to prefer, and she saw that his throat was covered in hickeys.

Still, apparently he had been working since the moment he got out of bed – at least that’s how he looked, deeply focused on his writing. Tav faintly remembered the stack of documents she still needed to go over, and sighed. She’d never have a normal life again.

“Good morning”, she greeted, sitting down opposite of him. “Do you ever stop working?”

Gortash shot her a glance over his notes, then brought his focus back to writing. 

“Morning”, he replied, sounding like he was holding back a scoff, but barely.

Tav reached for the coffee, drowning out the black with milk until it had a soft brown color, then tried again. 

“I’m serious Gortash, do you actually have a life beyond working? I’ve never heard or seen you do anything other than work. Do you have a… hobby? Friends?”

She tried to sound as neutral as possible, curious even. Maybe if he had one, she’d be able to as well.

He raised his eyebrows while she was speaking but didn’t take his gaze off his hand, finishing the sentence he was writing before closing the book and leaning back in his chair, looking at her with an annoyed expression.

“Since you take offense to my private life so much, even giving me a lecture on whom I chose to spend my time with the other day, I opted not to share too much of it with you”, he scoffed, crossing his arms while he spoke.

“You’re sharing plenty”, Tav quipped before she could stop herself, eyes falling onto his bruised neck. 

Gortash saw where her eyes took her and chuckled. “Is that what you want to know? The exploits of last night? I could draw you a picture.” He nodded towards his notebook and Tav suppressed a smile.

“I was asking for me, actually.”

For a split second he looked confused, but he got back to his smug persona in no time.

“Hells, do I have to teach you how to find something to do as much as I have to teach you how to rule a city?”, he mocked her, and Tav wanted to wipe the arrogant look off his face. Did he misunderstand everything on purpose? 

“Nevermind”, she grumbled and rolled her eyes, filling her plate with bread, cheese, and eggs. No use trying to have a conversation with this one.

She began eating in silence, hoping the Archduke would choose to finish his work somewhere else instead of here so she wouldn’t spend the entire meal in this tension. But he kept his eyes on her, only interrupted by him reaching for his coffee.

“I have a standing agreement with the Blushing Mermaid”, he suddenly began, tone more forgiving than before. “Which is where I go when I need a change of scenery. They make sure that nobody bothers me, give me a corner to myself and my acquaintances, and in turn I’ll make sure their paperwork remains… in order.” He nodded curtly. 

Tav looked at him, pleasantly surprised about hearing something constructive for a change, then nodded in agreement. “Sure, makes sense. Thanks.”

“No scolding?”, Gortash teased, voice low. A servant behind him refilled his coffee cup, and he nodded a short thanks to him.

“Look, I don’t really care if you sleep with the entire public of Baldur’s Gate as some sort of goodwill campaign, but I do care if you’re being careless about it. At least, politically.” 

She saw him think over her words before he decided to ignore them. “If you’re bored, I’m sure the Mermaid would be glad to host you, too.” Taking a long sip from his coffee, his eyes met hers, silently sizing her up. 

“I was counting on it”, Tav sighed and Gortash seemed to approve, gaze softening. It was weird how he could watch her so intently only to pretend she didn’t exist the next moment.

“But seriously, Gortash, do you have any other hobbies than sleeping around?” She gave him a smile as a peace offering. “Any friends?”

He grimaced, his face hardening again as quickly as it had relaxed just moments before, and he stood up from the table abruptly. 

“I have to finish this”, he said, grabbing his notebook. “I’ll see you later, in the morning brief.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving Tav sitting by herself, feeling lost. Had this been a fight? Or a small form of reconciliation?

Fuck if I know.

Gortash

He was about to lose his patience with her. 

Their morning briefing had barely started when he’d asked her about the meetings she had the day before. Gortash had put considerable thought into who she could meet, which noble would likely fawn over her, and had even given her discussion points to cover. Now that he’d asked her about it, however, Tav just shrugged. 

“It’s in the briefings I gave you”, she said, sounding annoyed.

“You can hardly call them briefings”, he replied angrily. The one-pagers with a few bullet points on them hardly counted as anything more than a child’s scribbles.

“And what would your Highness call them?” Her voice cut sharply across the desk they were sitting at, in his office today, and she crossed her arms in defiance while she glared at him.

Gortash rubbed the back of his hand.

“Trash”, he stated flatly. And truthfully. The loose, single pages lacked detail and information. He usually threw them away after a quick glance.

But Tav didn’t seem to agree: A red rash spread on her throat, her anger bubbling underneath the surface. 

“Trash?!” She repeated the words, outraged, tone pitching upwards. “I spend over an hour every day writing them!”

He snorted, unwilling to believe what she told him. There was no way it took her more than a few minutes. But then again, he was already over the topic. If she wanted to try to mock him or play some sort of weird game, he wouldn’t let her. He had a city to run.

I don’t have time for this. 

“Let’s move on, shall we?”, he therefore offered, trying to change the subject. But Tav shook her head, her pride clearly hurt. 

“You not reading or replying to my briefings or the questions or ideas in them is one thing”, she stood up, grabbing the stack of documents she had brought with her. “But insulting me?” She rolled her eyes. “We agreed to work together, Gortash. Don’t be such a sour loser.”

He chuckled, amused by her outburst, though he was still confused if she was actually being serious. 

“Who says I’ve lost anything?”, he smirked, and Tav groaned in response. 

“Fuck you”, she grumbled, throwing a dozen or so pages of document in front of him. “Here’s today’s report. For your trash.”

She was out of the door before he could reply. Sighing with frustration, Gortash gathered the pages, then looked them over: Notes and notes, separated into sections by subject. Questions were underlined, ideas marked with an arrow. There were headers and summaries, all of it neatly written. And then, in between all of them, a one-pager with bullet points summarizing the entire thing. 

Shit. 

—

He spent the rest of the meeting alone, reading through her report. It was… elaborate. Helpful. Informative. And anything but trash.

A quick and angry chat with his assistant revealed that the damn man thought he was helping by only showing him the summaries, filing the rest of the reports away into binders. Gortash all but fired him on the spot, then reconsidered when he remembered that it had taken him months to find someone he could barely tolerate. So he decided to yell at him until the first tears pricked the corners of his assistant’s eyes, then sent him off. 

Gortash decided to read the rest of the reports later and instead focused on the most recent one. Three pages in, a paragraph addressed him directly, and he raised his eyebrows, trying to picture Tav writing this with the little frown on her face that she made whenever she was skeptical of any of his decisions.

I’m not sure why you asked me to meet Duke Portyr. He wouldn’t stop talking about my family using absurd metaphors that I’m too tired to repeat. Anyway, he fucking hates your guts. He didn’t say so explicitly, but he asked me five times how elections were held in Athkatla. Told him to ask Nine Fingers as I’m sure she’s well acquainted with the Shadow Thieves. But maybe that was the point of sending him to me?

Gortash grinned. Absolutely. She was correct. Having her instead of him tell the grudge-keeping duke off was better in every way, but especially politically. He hastily wrote a reply in the margins:

Yes. Well done. Thank you.

Further down, another section caught his eye:

Heard whispers about a Gondian network being reestablished in BG. New research, too. Something about intersections of thermodynamic and magical properties? Beats me but I’m sure you’ll know. If it’s relevant I can reach out.

You know some interesting mouths that speak such luring whispers. Reaching out would be much appreciated.

Shaking his head to himself, he couldn’t help but smile. This was exactly what he had hoped to get out of this partnership. More than that, actually. Plus, if she could indeed help him get his hands on a Gondian design… 

What a pleasant surprise.

On the last page was another paragraph, seemingly written in a hurry and with a different quill. It looked like it was added last minute:

Well, you’re not reading any of this anyway, but if you do, let me know how you do this? Have a private life, I mean? I haven’t left this building in over a week while you’re covered in hickeys as if you just worked a double shift at Sharess’ Caress.  PS: Stop being such a dick at breakfast. Either eat like a normal person and socialize, or work in your office. It’s depressing. – Tav

Gortash realized she’d written it after their encounter this morning. He had been short with her, sure, but mostly because he didn’t want to talk about his private life. It wasn’t any of her business. Besides, if she thought she could sit there and judge him with her noble nose turned upwards, she was wrong. But maybe… it seemed like there was more to it. 

Scratching his head, he wondered if she was being sincere when she asked him for advice. Him. But why? She could ask her family. Or their lackeys. He was sure they’d love to give their input.

Still, the question was directed at him. And he was in a good mood after reading through the entire thing. Gortash decided she deserved an answer. This time.

Ask your assistant to block time out for you. Cancel things if necessary. 

Chuckling, he tried picturing her at the Blushing Mermaid, downing a drink after another lecture from Portyr. She’d scowl and pout and it would be delicious to tease her there. Probably wouldn’t be more than two drinks until she’d be too tipsy to be fun, though. However… He hadn’t forgotten that he’d fucked Provoss while imagining Tav’s face. How could he? The orgasm had been one of his better ones recently. 

He started writing before he could think, the smirk on his face widening:

PS: No notebooks at the table. Noted. But don’t pretend you don’t like dicks for breakfast. – E

He hovered over the page, staring at the letter of his first name. He nearly signed off with “Enver”, but that would have been a horrible idea. Having her call him Gortash was preferable overall, as was more distance between them. While he did enjoy winding her up, he did not want to imply familiarity. At least not unless he wanted her to pry even more into his personal life. Which he didn’t. 

Definitely not. 

Gortash rolled his eyes at himself. The last sentence sounded almost flirty. He shouldn’t have added it… but he had not been able to stop himself, almost high on the euphoria of discovering his co-ruler was competent after all. 

Sighing, he turned the “E” into “E.G.”. 

Better.

Setting down the quill, he called for his assistant, asking him to take the report back to Tav, explicitly mentioning the added notes. Then, he glanced at the time: If he hurried with the rest of his work for today, he could go out later. 

The Blushing Mermaid was lovely that time of night. Maybe he would catch her there?

Next Chapter

#M.A.D. #my writing #enver gortash #tav #gortash x tav #tavtash #bg3 fic #post game AU

[helplessdiary]

The Weekend

Source: Wattpad

Pairing: Taeyhung x MC

Genre: short story romance

Description: A short story where a girl meets a boy and they have the worst and simultaneously have the best and the worst weekend imaginable

-First part, the rest is on wattpad

FRIDAY MORNING

The weekend is supposed to be the best time of the week. It's a time away from work or school. A time to relax and catch up on the things you missed out on during the week, but this weekend was the worst two days of my life, and it was all because of a boy.

Friday morning started out like I expected, the sound of my roommate incessantly vacuuming downstairs pulled me out of sleep. I stumbled from my bed to the bathroom the dream I was having still playing in my memory. Cold water brought me back to life and excitement ran through my body. The party was happening that night, my first collage party. The day needed to go perfectly.

~

The vacuum hit the back of my ankle causing me to choke on my cereal as I sat at the counter "Okay thats enough with the vacuum Sami" She had not stopped since 8am that morning.

"I'm sorry I'm just really excited for tonight, Martina I cannot belie we're going to our first party" she squealed. I wanted be annoyed, but I couldn't help it I was excited too, and I squealed right back.

"What are you going to wear" I excitedly asked. I had had my outfit picked out for weeks.

"Martina, no offense" Sami said with all the tone of offense "My grandmother would wear that outfit to church, and my clothes are not so great either seeing how my mother picked them out." I cringed at this. Sami's mother makes helicopter parents look laid back.

~

The walk to history class that morning was marred by Sami still complaining about her outfit choices for the party, and for once I was actually relived to hear my teacher start his monotonous lecture. His lull was shortly interrupted by the door opening and a boy walking in and handing the teacher a note. It was him, the boy to cause a thousand heartbreaks and million reasons for happiness. I had seem him around campus secretly storing away things in my head about him. The way he parts his hair and the way he smiles with all of his teeth. I blushed and looked down embarrassed for thinking these things about him, but I couldn't help staring at the back of his head as he sat down, and I couldn't help but notice the way he tilts his head and places his chin on his palm as he listens intently to the boring lecture.

I am taken from my trance by the sound of everyone beginning to pack up their things marking the end of class. I needed to catch him despite the pounding in my heart. I bean to make my way towards the first row where he was sitting, but I was interrupted by people trying to leave the class. I had a plan in mind, I was going to ask him if he would be at the party that night and casually get his name. It couldn't have been that hard right? Well, the hard part ended up being getting to him at all. The tidal wave of students now trying to make their way out of class made it impossible to catch him, and soon he was lost in the crowd.

Sulking I walked with Sami to the dinning hall distracted the whole way by thoughts of him. I mentally scoled myself normally I would never be this obsessed over a boy, but something about him just drew me in, and once I was in there was no escaping the thought of him.

"Martina are you listening to me?" Sami was trying to tell me once again about her outfit plans for that night. Her mother has packed her nothing but jeans, dress pants, and god awful blouses.

"How am I supposed to meet a boy in this?" she gestured down to her floral blouse, and she was right it was hideous.

"Our outfits may not matter if we don't fit in in general" I mutter back "This morning I couldn't even talk to a boy without failing."

"Well be fine Martina! You're beautiful. Trust me, if we get some sexy new outfits our confidence will be up one-hundred percent" Sami looked mischievous "What if we skip class for the rest of the day and go shopping."

~

"I'm not feeling very confident" I said two hours later and five dresses deep into trying things on. The dress I had on was barley covering my butt and had giant puffy shoulders. Sami pulled back the curtain to look and cringed not needing to say anything for me to know what she thought.

"I'll be right back" she said snapping the curtain shut and running off. I sat down in the dressing room looking in the mirror. My almost black hair clashed with the navy blue of the dress washing out my supposed to be tan skin. I had never been so exposed in a dress before I wasn't ready for the party and I definitely wasn't ready to meet a boy, but when I found myself thinking of boys I could only picture one in my head. I closed my eyes picturing him. Him laughing with his friends, him studying in the library, him this morning in class. Some part of me thought that maybe he noticed me too. Prayed that he noticed me too.

"Okay try this one" Sami said handing me a black dress through the curtain. I took off the old one and slipped on the new, and I was pleasantly surprised. Unlike the one before this one hugged me in all the right places showing off my curves, and it didn't wash me out for have gigantic puffs, and best of all it stopped mid thigh. I stepped out from the curtain to show Sami.

"You look freaking fantastic!" she squealed, and again I squealed with her. Maybe this party wasn't going to be as bad as I thought it would be.

#bts #fanfic #btsfanfic #bts taeyhung #kim taehyung #v #taehyung #wattpad #bts writer #tae x

[fanfic-gallery]

hi, tori!! how are you? i saw the other works you did based off songs, so i was wondering: could i ask for a fluff nobara kugisaki x fem!reader with the song "girls girls girls" by fletcher, please?

A little prank

✎ Nobara x Reader

✎ Tags : smol does of angst, fluff, f! reader

: ̗̀➛ Manager’s/Author’s note : I’m doing well, my dear~ I must say your taste in music is magnificent, can’t get it out my head ever since I first listened to it

I kissed a girl and I liked it Sipped her like an old fashioned I kissed a girl and she liked it It's better than I imagined

Your eyes glanced over the handwritten letter, your heart and soul poured within its pages, every word, every letter stringing tunes of praises. Yet you couldn't help but chew the inside of your cheek, paranoia sinking its teeth with your shoulders.

"Y/N, if you're afraid, we can always try another day.." Lush pink and hazel drew you in, his hands caging you in a hug, one caressing your back while the other rubbed its thumb against your palm. You shrug off his touch, thanking him for his concern before straightening up, stepping towards a familiar locker.

You could still remember it like yesterday, the shocked displays of their faces when you let out your little secret. Itadori in such a panic state that he almost made you puke out your smoothie from how hard he shook you, accompanied by his wailing screams that was a third inch from getting all three of you kicked out from the establishment.

"Stop that-"

"SMACK"

"iTAI-!"

"Back to the conversation at hand.. I must say, you have given us quite the challenge.. "

"Yea..- Kugisaki isn't one to let her guard down easy, this is WAY harder than any missions we've been on-!"

You had beg to differ, yet through sheer willpower the results may have proven impossible indeed. Written letters thrown in the bins without much thought, boxed pieces of fudge and candy slipped into the drawers of the other two freshmen, specifically Yuuji’s. You grew desperate to grasp at the last bit of hope the road ahead of you held, yet to no avail. Restless, you forfeit the mission, teary eyes only smiling at the thought that at least, the friendship you both hold will still last for a lifetime.

“Ughhh..” The brunette groaned, plopping herself down with the confines of the wooden bench, flakey strands snuggled into your shoulder as she leaned in.

“Is something wrong, Bara-chan?” Amber hues darted towards yours, a frown forming in the process, her cheeks puffy and fairly most hair sticking to her features. “Nothing.. just wondering who’s been pulling some awful pranks on me-” You fell under shocked, your brain hadn’t been able to process much of the weeks before, all that comes to mind were the sleepless nights of flooding water with the soft stuffings of your pillow.

“I bet it’s those two thinking they’re all so funny for trying to mess with me-”

“What did they do, if you don’t mind?”

“I’ve been receiving a whole lotta anonymous gifts recently, chocolate, letters covered in hearts, I mean- do they really think I would fall for it?” Flabbergasted. That’s what you would describe it. You will say, it did shot an arrow through your fragile heart that she thought of your love through action was a just a mere trick done by the others, yet a sense of relieve took residence that you could help but crack a chuckle.

“Pfft..-”

“Wait- you weren’t in on it were ya-? I hope not- if not I would seriously- ”

Sweet.

She tasted o’ so sweet.

You sunk further into the loving embrace, a hand drawing her waist closer, her plush chest pressing up to yours, the other lacing fingers through her brown locks, savouring the kiss you had engaged. Warm. All she felt was warmth, cheeks flared a bright red, amber pupils ready to pop out of her sockets without a second’s notice.

How to react..

She didn’t know.

Yet, she didn’t want to let go..

“W-what the fuck was that for..” You smiled meekly, flinching when her figure loomed forward, sloughing against you, her head already buried within your exposed neck, the heat upon her face neutralizing the chills on your skin.

“Those.. weren’t pranks, Bara-chan.. I was the one that did all of that, ‘cause.. I love you.” Polished nails dug into your tracksuit, her quickened breaths, her accelerating heartbeat. You felt it all, within your arms.

“You could have just- told me- now I just feel bad..” You giggled again, patting at the sorceresses’ back, who could only sulk in disappointment, each groan growing louder that the vibrations of them send shivers up your spin.

“Hahah~ alright, how about this? I love you, Nobara~ better?”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen nobara #jjk nobara #jujutsu nobara #nobara x reader #nobara x you #nobara x y/n #nobara kugisaki

[cosmicgrapevine]

     Mr. Hudson’s printer hummed as Lynd’s temporary ID came out. Tabby took it gently; the paper was still hot. The photo quality was awful, but it still said ASH, LYND (M) (JR), and gave a locker number and ID number. It was real. This was really happening. “I’d recommend not losing that one,” Mr. Hudson said, “Seeing as how your birth cert, social, legal address, name of legal guardian, medical records, and educational history are, uh, ‘temporarily unavailable’.”        Lynd smiled guiltily as he took the ID. “I understand this is…less than ideal, from your perspective, sir. You have my gratitude.”       “Well, I’ve gotten some funny looks from the registrar before, but this was a wild one.” He sat down and reclined in his office chair. “I’ll be honest, guys, I wanted to move slower here. Enrollment here is over twenty-five hundred, and 99% of ‘em are just living their normal lives.”       “You think I’m a danger?”       “I didn’t say that,” he answered. “But in terms of blending in, this is a trial by fire, and, well, you’ve barely been living in civilization for two weeks. If you get found out, and if the Fullmires hear about it…it’s my job to keep my students safe.” He shrugged. “But hey, get out there and prove me wrong, Mr. Ash! Welcome to Kahoti High, and go Knights!”       “Go Knights.” Tabby responded. She wasn’t much for school spirit, but he’d earned some. Miss Verne gave him the news Sunday afternoon; he hammered out a ‘remedial-oriented’ schedule for Lynd and got it approved by the school, and now it was Wednesday morning. He’d have a familiar face in class every hour but one, and with an early start, be done at 1:30 every day.       It would be her early start now too, some days. She’d had her license for a year and a half, but ‘Driver’s Ed’ with Lou and Lynd, far away from prying eyes and ears, was a perfect place to talk shop. Today, though, she’d just walk him through his day before her own started; he said that if he was showed every room and how to get there, he wouldn’t even need a printed schedule: “Marksteppers are good at retracing our paths; we need to be.”       So, in control for now, Tabby stopped them in an isolated corner and asked the question she’d been wondering since Sunday. “You spilled to Mr. C about my mom, didn’t you? I didn’t; it’s none of his business. But as soon as she showed up and started bitching me out, it turns out Mr. C had a card up his sleeve.”       “Yes, it was me,” Lynd said. “He and I had a minute alone that night. And with what you’ve said about your mother…” he shrugged. “I wanted to show my gratitude, so I asked him to intervene on your behalf. Was I in the wrong?”       “Well, apparently it means I owe him a big favor, but what else is new?” She tried to keep her chin steady. “I was all ready to show Mom how much I’ve changed, but as soon as she walked in, I just…it’s like I was in a trance. I was all ready to just do what she said, even though I’d hate her for it, and hate myself for obeying. Because that’s just…what I’m used to. It’s the safe thing, even when it sucks ass. If Janet didn’t step in, I might have just followed Rita out the door.”       “I’m scared, man. I keep it hidden from Dad and Mel, but God, I’m scared. I’ll never really get away. Rita still owns me, way deep in here.” She pointed to her head. “And now Mr. C knows that and who knows what he’ll do with that. I thought…I’d be free here. But it’s only been two weeks and I already feel like a puppet on a string again, I’m just—”       Lynd silently drew her in for a hug. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Next time, I won’t interfere without asking. But I don’t regret doing it. Someone who caused you so much pain…they don’t deserve you in their life.”       Tabby blushed as she buried her face in his shirt. He’d gotten all spiffed up for his first day, and she didn’t want to stain his button-down with her tears. “C’mon…‘don’t deserve?’ That’s a bit much.”       “No, it’s not.” He gently lifted her chin from his chest. “I was scared too. That first night, I thought it had all been for nothing. But you stood up for me when no one else did. And now I’m here. Do you think anyone could do that? Do you really doubt how…incredible, and wonderful a-and beautiful you are?” He took her hands in his, pressed them against his chest. His heart beat rapidly under them. “It’s my turn to help you. Whatever Florentino asks of us, we can face it together.”       She stared into his sunset-colored eyes, framed by dark, shaggy bangs. Then he kissed her.       This was the only time of day that the school building could be called ‘romantic’. 6:45 AM, freshly cleaned, still an hour before the horde arrived to yell across crowded hallways and miss the garbage cans with their wadded-up snack wrappers and sneak cigarette breaks in the bathrooms. So she took a nice long time, putting her arms around Lynd, running her fingers through his hair and playing with his necklace. After all, who knew what the future held, or if the moment would ever be so perfect again?

#prose sample #tabby #lynd

[tehuti88-art]

11/11/22: r/SketchDaily theme, "Tarot Card/Free Draw Friday." I did Free Draw Friday.

This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Oberschütze (PFC) Konrad Helmstadt, sans cap (top drawing) and with cap (bottom drawing). He's...kind of a jerk. There'll be more about him later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding his design, he's a red German pinscher. I'm not entirely satisfied with him but I guess he'll do for now.

I drew a tarot card back in August, actually.

TUMBLR EDIT: You're going to get a rare, awful treat in this entry. 😃 But first things first.

Private (or more accurately PFC) Konrad Helmstadt is more of a tertiary character throughout most of the series--you really AREN'T supposed to know him well--so I don't actually know much about him. Most details are newer developments since he's changed VERY greatly from his original, circa-2000 incarnation. Let me see if a description of him from the old character list still exists...

Haha, yes, it does! Here it is:

KONRAD HELMSTADT: Pvt.; another soldier, newly recruited, serving Dobermann along with Gerhardt. Naive and wide eyed but eager to please. Very loyal and dependable, yet not certain where his loyalty should lie; tries to serve Dobermann and protects his daughter by default, yet finds himself swayed by her argument that their part in the war is wrong. Still, isn't quite willing to give up his position.

Oh my God wow. Okay, now COMPLETELY wipe that from your mind. Similar to Hesse, Helmstadt underwent an extreme personality change for the reboot, though just HOW extreme isn't revealed until the "epilogue" of the series, Ultima Thule. In his current incarnation, he's a young Junker from a rather disgraced family which is deep in debt; I don't know all the details, but Helmstadt joins the Wehrmacht as part of some sort of arrangement to help pay off this debt somehow. He never sees combat; rather, he proves to be skilled at clerical and organizational things, so he's posted at the Dobermann estate, when Inspector Louis Dobermann requests Wehrmacht troops who are not members of the Nazi Party to help guard his property. Dobermann is a Junker himself and so knows Helmstadt's family in passing even though they don't live in the same area; he's not fond of them, to put it simply--he views their problems as being self-inflicted, which they basically are. Helmstadt's parents are rather profligate and don't always make good choices. Helmstadt, however, is the apple that did fall far from the tree: He's much more like Dobermann in values and personality, believing in extreme self-discipline and self-reliance. Result, he and Dobermann get along quite well, and although neither one of them is the emotional sort, he comes across as almost like the son Dobermann never had. There are even some short-lived rumors that he might forge a relationship with Dobermann's daughter, Adelina, though neither one of them ever expresses the slightest romantic interest in the other. Rather, he occasionally ends up playing the role of protective brother when he's assigned to keep watch over her on her rare social outings (such as when she and the others visit the Heidenreich estate). Most of the time, though, he remains at the Dobermann estate, where he basically plays the role of majordomo, overseeing everyone else and making sure everything runs smoothly. He's known for his bossy, short-tempered, haughty attitude; the lower-class staff ridicule him behind his back, though he finds himself above being upset about such things. As irritating as he can be, he really is good at what he does, especially at keeping pushy Nazis from pestering Dobermann too much for the usage of his estate. His attitude makes it clear he doesn't think too highly of them; he criticizes the SS especially, and he and Lt. Hesse get into verbal sparring matches more than once.

Another, more recent development is Helmstadt's ongoing relationship with fellow Wehrmacht guard 2nd Lt. Senta Werner. Senta's story has been given already; a bit similar to Helmstadt, she's been posted at the Dobermann estate as she's not suited for combat, since she's female. (Back when she was created, I did not know female Wehrmacht members weren't really a thing, so I had to retcon the explanation that it's an honorary rank paid for by her father and she's not allowed to actually DO anything with it.) Unlike Helmstadt, she's good at fighting, and she could probably kick his a**. Instead, she drags him into an empty room one day and ahm, well, he's startled and protests at first, but not very much. The two of them make a semi-regular habit of sneaking off together to go at it. It's not tender, it's not romantic, it's not loving. It's always just quick and aggressive and then they part ways; they never even spend a night together. Helmstadt, being prudish despite this, does lay a few ground rules, though they're broken on occasion, for example after Senta pulls him into a storage closet, he goes along, but afterward rebukes her, insisting they use a bed next time since it's "proper" and he's not "uncivilized." For obvious reasons, this arrangement doesn't continue past the climax of Reunion.

As I mentioned, throughout the series Helmstadt pretty much just does his job and minds his business and keeps things running safely. He defers to Dobermann on everything (he doesn't even protest the presence of Tobias Schäfer, a deaf Jewish doctor, on the property), though Dobermann doesn't tend to give orders. It's obvious he highly respects Dobermann, and can barely stand Hesse or the other Nazis who visit the estate, which is why his actions at the story's height, when Dobermann's supposedly dead wife Inga returns, are so startling. Sgt. Gerhardt, a Jewish American spy also stationed on the property to suss out Dobermann's exact allegiances, comes into frequent contact with Helmstadt as he's new to the place and needs to answer to him directly (Helmstadt is short and rather pissy with him, as he hates new and unexpected developments); so he learns a lot about what's going on from him. The explanations sometimes lack a little, though. For example, after Gerhardt suffers a minor injury, the help staff call Schäfer to come check on him, and the entire time Schäfer's checking Gerhardt out, Gerhardt stares at the yellow Star of David badge on his jacket. After Schäfer leaves, Gerhardt follows Helmstadt, trying to figure out WTF just happened.

Gerhardt: "Ahm..."

Helmstadt: "He says you're good to go, you're good to go. You wanted a post here, no waffling about now."

Gerhardt: "Nein, I'm just...ah...(long pause)...that...doctor..."

Helmstadt: "Doctor Schäfer."

Gerhardt: "Schäfer. He...he was wearing a Judenstern."

Helmstadt: "That's because he's a Jew."

Gerhardt (flustered): "Perhaps I've been gone longer than I thought, but I was under the impression Jews aren't allowed to practice medicine--?"

Helmstadt: "An exception was made."

And that's pretty much all the explanation Gerhardt gets, at that point. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Helmstadt, like Dobermann, tends to use as few words as necessary to make his point, though he's somewhat more blunt and speaks his mind rather than biting his tongue. When the topic of Inga Dobermann's death comes up--she was shot, after which she shot and killed a Nazi trespassing on the property late one night--Helmstadt as usual doesn't mince words: "Stupid f**k had it coming." He never expresses as much loyalty to Inga as he does to Dobermann (likely because she's not a Junker, at least not by birth), though her connection to her husband seems enough to ensure Helmstadt respects her and her authority in the household; he never has a harsh word for any of the Dobermanns, while being highly critical of the Nazi officials who are always pestering them--not even the loyal Hesse is exempt. (Hesse could easily get Helmstadt in trouble by reporting him to the SS, but he's just too much in disbelief over Helmstadt's nerve in freely speaking against him to ever do anything about it. More often than not, Helmstadt's rebukes leave him speechless. Also he's smart enough to realize Helmstadt is necessary to keep things running smoothly.)

Anyway, Inga suddenly reappears at the Dobermann estate in the company of Josef Diamant, the Jewish leader of the resistance Diamond Network (where she was taken into hiding during her absence), and Dobermann himself welcomes her back by embracing her--making it clear he was in on the plot to fake her death. This, and his previous association with Diamant, proves to Gerhardt where his allegiances lie. Everyone who wasn't in on the plot to fake Inga's death is of course caught offguard--this includes Hesse and Helmstadt. Hesse, being both a Nazi and a member of the SS (belonging to the division in charge of enforcing the race laws, no less), is considered the biggest threat to deal with in the Dobermann household--but he's a longtime friend of the family, secretly in love with Inga, and he practically raised daughter Adelina from birth. He's more bewildered than angry about anything, and even though he manages to muster enough sense to hold the Dobermanns at gunpoint and tell them he has to arrest them, and will shoot if he has to, he falters when Adelina jumps into his line of fire--it's almost certain he could never shoot "his little Lina." This is a surprising enough development in itself, that Adelina could so easily nullify the Allies' biggest threat within the household.

Helmstadt's reaction, however, is completely off the rails. He pulls his pistol and starts SCREAMING--at Inspector Dobermann himself. The gist of it is that he's served Dobermann and his family with blind loyalty all these years (well, several years, to be honest), when all that Dobermann is is a "dirty race traitor." Yep--Helmstadt may not be a member of the Nazi Party itself, he might even think the Nazis are idiots who deserve what they get--but he's still a plain old bigot and antisemite. The thing is that there are worse things, in his opinion, than the Jews. He despises Inga for being Jewish--he despises Addy for being half Jewish. But he despises Dobermann most of all, for betraying the Aryan race. Jews at least didn't choose to be who they are, but Dobermann definitely chose to break the race laws and take a non-Aryan woman as his wife. That, to Helmstadt, is the worse of the two offenses, and one of the most reprehensible things anyone can do. So yes, he feels personally betrayed and deceived by Dobermann, and so targets him to unload all his rage on. The look on Hesse's face makes it clear that even he had no idea about the depths of Helmstadt's hatred, but nobody gets to ponder it long. The confrontation leaves Sgt. Volker (another Nazi, though he's sided with the Dobermanns) wounded, and both Hesse and Helmstadt dead, so Gerhardt, Diamant, and the Dobermanns (and Schäfer, whom they quickly fetch) have to flee, leaving behind Volker, Sgt. Holt, and Senta to guard the household. They go to the mountains to wait out the end of the war as the Allies take over the city and crush the Nazi forces.

The Nazis aren't completely done for, however, and a year or so later Diamant, Gerhardt, and the Dobermanns head deeper into the mountains to the Alpine Fortress to investigate what they're up to; it turns out to be the continuation of a medical project previously focused on creating a "super soldier" with increased strength and intelligence, and now focused on creating immortality itself. Hesse and Helmstadt turn out to be two unwitting subjects of this experiment, having been resurrected and brainwashed to defend the Fortress and kill the intruders; the Allies discover an "anti-serum" that counters the brainwashing to bring the two back to their senses, and use it on them. Hesse regains his memories and is devastated to learn of the collapse of the Third Reich and the death of everyone close to him; his reaction is to give up, as he has no more interest in living. Helmstadt regains his memories; his reaction is to continue attacking, utterly fixated on the Nazis' new goal of creating a Fourth Reich. He never displays any reluctance or remorse whatsoever--if anything, he's gotten even MORE fanatical. While the Allies are eventually able to convince Hesse to help them terminate the experiment, they never get through to Helmstadt in the least, and Hesse ends up fighting against him directly. When Hesse refuses to join forces with him when Helmstadt attempts persuasion--Hesse even insisting that they (Hesse and Helmstadt) are the "Untermenschen" now--Helmstadt is infuriated, and just redoubles his efforts; Hesse manages to fend him off long enough to let the others set explosives and escape, though he and Helmstadt are both killed in the process, crushed to death by tons of ice and rock. (Dobermann was killed previously in a fall.) Hesse, the ACTUAL Nazi, tries to redeem himself at least a little bit; but Helmstadt is completely unrepentant up to the end.

...And now, here I present a horrible treat: The entirety of Chapter 12 of The Trench Rats (technically, Reborn), the attempted reboot from the early 2000s, where Helmstadt makes what is, I believe, his first ever appearance. I haven't gone over the existing chapters to make sure, but I think this is also Dobermann's initial appearance in this particular version of the story (his character's been around a lot longer than Helmstadt), so there's a bonus treat--when this version was written, I was still under the impression that Dobermann was some kind of bad guy, or at least an antihero. This was intended as a key scene to illustrate how capricious and murderous he could be. NEEDLESS TO SAY, this ENTIRE chapter is now obsolete. THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN. It's also likely to be even more inaccurate than the current story in regards to period-specific things; I mean wow, I was SUPER ignorant. Not that I'm much better now, but I was REALLY awful back then. (There's lots of incorrect terminology too, I won't bother pointing it all out.) I haven't read this in years, so I shall be experiencing the cringe right along with you. ;_;

And here we go...enjoy! *grimaces*

The Trench Rats, Part 12: Helmstadt

RAIN BEGAN PELTING the windshield as the car turned and pulled up to the gate. The soldier standing there pulled the gate open and waved the vehicle through. It made its way up the driveway, picking up speed until one of the tires slipped and splashed down into a pothole, bringing the car to an immediate halt. It backed up and out of the hole while the soldier from the front gate came jogging forward, then made its way toward the house and turned to park near the side. The soldier caught up, stopping momentarily to catch his breath before opening the car door.

An officer immediately brushed out, pushing the saluting soldier aside and glancing around him disdainfully. He stepped to the ground and walked to the front of the vehicle, bending down to look at the tire.

"Good morning, Sir," the soldier called.

"Hardly," the officer snapped. He stood and sniffed, nodding at the tire. "Take a look, one jolt and the thing is ruined. Have you any idea how much this type of car costs? Now ruined. Of all things, a pothole. This is beyond ridiculous."

"I apologize, Sir--but I'm not in command of who fixes the driveways--"

"Don't get snippy with me, Private. I have enough on my plate to deal with without the attitude." He took his case and slipped it under his arm.

"No attitude intended, Sir...but I thought you should know--"

"I came here on another matter," the officer said. He glanced around him again, then made his way for the entrance to the giant house, which more closely resembled a manor. "But I think I'll take this up with him as well. With as much money as he has, you'd think he could get someone to fill in a damned pothole."

The private jogged to catch up with him again. "Sir, I--"

"Truly, how much is he worth now? Of course, the place does seem to be falling into disrepair--and he hardly keeps any servants around--"

"I don't think you'll be able to--"

"--though why they would want to stay around is beyond me."

"He's still--"

"I'll see to it he doesn't have the money left to keep even them around," the officer groused, knocking on the huge front doors until they were opened, then pushing his way inside, the private following. "Ruining my car like that because he's too cheap to fix his drive properly."

"Sir!..."

They made their way into the parlor, the officer looking around. "Parlor," however, implied a small size...whereas the room that greeted them was practically cavernous.

"Good God!" the officer exclaimed. "You could outfit a fleet of ships with the drapes in here!"

"Sir, please keep your voice--"

"What is this, a footstool or a table?" He kicked at the leg of a long winding table in the middle of the room. The floor was carpeted in a luscious wine color, and the drapes reflected that same hue. Everything seemed to be in shades of wine and red and cream. A fireplace loomed off to the side, a large painting above it; the officer gravitated toward this, then walked along beside the walls, scanning the rest of the artwork hanging around them.

"He collects these? Or does he steal them? Are these even originals? Probably not, knowing him..."

"If you'd come back ano--"

"Good GOD!" The private cringed as the officer's voice echoed through the room. He'd just discovered the stairway, off to the right on entering the parlor.

"How many steps are ON that thing?" he yelled, walking to the bottom and peering up. The marble steps ascended in a graceful curve to reach a landing overlooking the parlor far below.

The private approached and tugged on his sleeve, putting a finger to his mouth. "Sir, please. You must be able to think of a better time to come around."

"Better time? What for? I have some papers I need him to look at." As if just remembering his mission, he pulled the case out from under his arm and, inexplicably, shoved it under the other self-importantly. "I will hardly leave before he does so."

"Sir, the inspector's occupied right now. It's best if you--"

"Occupied? With what? Has he got a woman up there?"

"He hasn't awoken yet, Sir. If--"

"Not AWAKE yet?" His shrill voice nevertheless managed to boom off the ceiling. "It's after nine in the morning, and you tell me he's not awake yet? Does he have a woman up there? What's your name, anyway? Do you even know who you're talking to?"

"Private Konrad Helmstadt, Sir. I know who you are. Which is why I think you should--"

"What room is he in? I'll hunt him down and wake him up myself if I have to!" He put his hand on the bannister and started jogging up the steps.

Helmstadt grew alarmed. "Sir!" He hurried to catch up.

"Sir, this isn't a good idea," he continued when the officer reached the second floor and started down the long hallway, footsteps echoing too loudly off the walls. Windows lined the right wall, facing the side yard of the house, and the woods. The officer ignored the view, but once in a while glanced at yet another painting upon the wall, grimacing with disgust at each new discovery as if the sheer opulence of the place made him want to gag.

"Why not? I was promised he would look at these papers. This is important, Private Hammerstadt."

"Helmstadt, Sir."

"Whatever. We're in a war, in case you haven't noticed."

"I have noticed, Sir, but when he's busy, you shouldn't--"

"Ah, jump off the balcony, Private, or find someone who's concerned to tell. I have to speak to the inspector." And he muttered just loud enough for Helmstadt to hear, "Why I have to speak to him, I have no idea."

Helmstadt dared to speak up again. "Perhaps then if you don't know you should wait until a better--"

"Look," the officer snapped, whirling on him and practically shoving the case in his face. "I took the time to come out here. I bothered driving out to this horrid estate. I even damaged my car in the drive! I'll hardly leave now just because the inspector needs his beauty sleep!"

Helmstadt stared at him in silence, then stepped aside. The officer gave him one final glare before making his way to a door near the end of the hall. He waved at it.

"Is this the room? God knows the place is full enough of the damned things!"

Helmstadt nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"I suppose he gets lost every so often and you have to go looking for him," the officer muttered, and reached out to knock on the door. It pulled open before his knuckles had a chance to strike it. Helmstadt snapped to attention and the officer just frowned with some surprise.

The man who stared back at him wore a pristine uniform that was not of the Nazi party, but was comparable. He looked quite far from having allegedly just been asleep; rather, it looked as if he had been anything but. The look on his face was neutral; even his eyes told the officer nothing, but the way that icy blue stared at him made him want to start squirming, if only because he couldn't tell what the stare meant. He bit the inside of his mouth instead and offered a halfhearted salute, his former insistence gone.

"Inspector."

He opened his mouth to continue but the inspector turned his head to look at Helmstadt. Helmstadt stood at attention again.

"Sir. I tried to tell him you were occupied..."

The inspector nodded once, silencing him, and turned back to the officer. The officer coughed into his hand and attempted to draw himself together.

"Inspector. I was informed that you should peruse some documents I have on hand. They need to be signed later on today, but apparently...for some reason...my superiors felt you should look at them first."

Helmstadt shot him a look from the corner of his eye, a silent warning. He ignored it.

"I thought I should also tell you," he continued, finally gathering himself, "of the horrid state of your main drive. Do you have any idea how hideous the thing is? On driving in here my automobile fell into a pothole. There is obvious damage. This car cost much money, and it would be nice to know that someone responsible will pay for it. I am hardly responsible for the deplorable state of your property."

"Sir," Helmstadt murmured between his teeth. The inspector lowered his head a little bit but appeared more aloof--or amused, even--than insulted or angry. The officer went on, his voice rising.

"For years I had hoped to obtain such a car, and now I'll be lucky if I can even replace the tire--not to mention what other damage has been done! All because you cannot simply pay someone to fix your drive. I took time out of my busy schedule to come here and see you, and you could at least acknowledge my presence aside from giving me that look." He shook the case. "The papers you need to see are in here. Though I hardly see why your approval is so very important. You're not even one of us! How do we know where you truly stand? If it were not the will of my superiors, I would not even have wasted my time bringing you this--"

A sharp cracking sound cut him off abruptly. Helmstadt jumped. The officer stared at the inspector with surprised eyes. Helmstadt turned to look at him and his own eyes widened when he saw the dark red spot flowering in the middle of his chest. The officer looked down at it and touched his hand to the blood, pulling his hand away and staring at it with some confusion. He swayed a little.

The gun in the inspector's hand was still smoking.

Helmstadt continued staring at the officer, who looked back up at the inspector for a moment before his eyes rolled back and he went limp. He collapsed to the floor, red seeping out into the wood beneath him. His fingers still clutched the handle of the small case, even as he let out one last gurgling breath and fell still.

Helmstadt swallowed convulsively.

Inspector Dobermann lowered the gun and turned back to his room. He stopped before entering and his eyes met Helmstadt's. The private drew himself up straight.

"Private," he said, voice perfectly neutral, "please make certain I'm not disturbed again."

Helmstadt clicked his heels together. "Yes Sir."

Without giving him--or the officer's body--another look, the inspector turned and went back into his room, quietly shutting the door behind him. Private Helmstadt was left trying not to stare at the body lying on the floor, and wondering which was more important--keeping on the inspector's good side, or finding someone to clean up the mess he'd left behind.

[Konrad Helmstadt 2022 [‎Friday, ‎November ‎11, ‎2022, ‏‎3:05:10 AM]]

[Konrad Helmstadt 2022 2 [‎Friday, ‎November ‎11, ‎2022, ‏‎3:05:22 AM]]

#artists on tumblr #ibisPaint x #SketchDaily #original characters

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

#long post #the addams family #Character Design #au #design challenge #i am incapable of doing a design challenge like a normal person #oh god i forgot the cut lol

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || your newest client asks you to give him a real challenge, and you’re happy to oblige.  

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 6.3k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut but no actual sex (lots of handjob stuff though and some brief oral m receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, more cnc (because of the overstimulation), bondage, edging, impact play (riding crop), brief cock torture (she just hits him with the crop a couple times), implied “kink as trauma response” (this is gonna be a theme throughout the whole fic), forced to break a rule/doomed to fail/impossible challenge (idk how to warn for this but yeah), forced voyeurism?, thigh riding (reader rides bucky’s thigh), some degradation/dumbification, brief/implied dacryphilia, a bit of angst/feelings

new parts posted on thursdays!  join the taglist here

“Can’t,” he sighed, “can’t come again.”

He looked so painfully adorable when he begged like that, his brow glistening with sweat as he jerked under your touch.  “Aw, poor baby,” you pouted, twisting your hand when it stroked over the head of his cock, “yes you can.  I know you can.  Just gimme one more.”

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, “Mistress, please— just stop, please, I can’t… can’t take any more…”

“I know you can, sweetheart— I know you can be my good boy and keep coming for me.  Tell me your color.”

“Yellow,” he whispered.

“Think you’re almost done?” you pressed, smiling when he nodded breathlessly.  “Yeah, there’s my good boy— gonna come again for your Mistress?”

“Yes,” he breathed, baring his teeth as his hips bucked wildly to try to avoid further sensation, “y-yes, one more, just one more, I’m gonna— fuck, gonna come, just don’t stop… fuck, it hurts.”

“I know, but you’re being so good for me,” you purred.  “You like it when I milk your pretty cock, don’t you?  Even though it hurts?”

He winced but nodded.  “C-coming, Mistress, fuck, I’m coming…!”

Since it was his fifth of the evening, he could only give you one thick drop of come that gathered at his slit before running down over your hand which finally slowed to a stop.

You both sighed with relief as you pulled your hand away and leaned back, admiring how beautiful he looked as he caught his breath, covered in come and sweat.

"Good job," you praised with a chuckle, "I hope I didn't go too hard on you."

"N-no, that was… that was really good," he sighed, slumping back onto the bed.  "Can I use your shower before I go?"

"Yeah, totally," you nodded.

After a long pause, you gave him a confused look.  

"I thought you were gonna shower?" you reminded him.

"Oh… I guess I have to get up for that," he sighed, making you laugh.

"Rest a bit longer.  You've had a… challenging afternoon."

He nodded a little and you got up from the bed to go wash your hands and freshen up a little, smiling at your own appearance in the mirror— sometimes you forgot how you looked when you did this, but there was an undeniable aura of power around you… especially after a session like that.

This was only your third week with James, and already the dynamic felt so natural between you— and yet, so fresh compared to your other clients.  Normally it took longer for a newbie to get comfortable with you, yet most of them had had multiple doms before and here was James, totally inexperienced and taking it all like a champ.  There was an air of innocence about him, you figured, in contrast to this undeniable strength and intensity that you caught glimpses of from time to time.

Sometimes, it felt like he was chasing an innocence he lost a long time ago.  Whatever it was that drew him to this, you were happy to help him along the way.

It was probably a little dangerous to enjoy sessions with a client so much; even though you often pretended that everything was about your pleasure and not theirs, obviously since they were the paying customer it was the complete opposite in reality.  But there was an equity to the dynamic with you and Bucky, he served you with a real dedication rather than for his own gain.  And you, meanwhile, had rediscovered the fun in this career that had originally drawn you to it in the first place.  It was less like a science now, more like an art— you let yourself go with your instincts and do whatever felt right in the moment, and both of you benefitted for it.  

“Come on, get up and clean yourself off,” you encouraged— gently, of course— as you left the bathroom and returned to find James laying sprawled out on the bed.

“I know you said falling asleep here was a one-time courtesy,” he remembered with a smile, “but I could use it now a lot more than I needed it then.”

Honestly, you didn’t see him smile that often.  It was pleasant; you hoped to see it again.  He did get up, though, and take the washcloth you handed him to wipe off the come that had gotten all over him.  “What are you thinking for next week?” you asked as you leaned against the wall.  “Any special requests?”

“We can discuss all that over the phone,” he decided.  You still didn’t understand fully why he didn’t like to discuss future scenes in person; it was like he wanted the in-person interactions to be as ‘in character’ (if you will) as possible.

“Alright, just keep me updated,” you requested with a shrug.

You got changed while he took his shower, and when he emerged to the living room he seemed surprised to see you sitting on your own couch.  After a moment, you realized it was the fact that you were in normal clothes that threw him off.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans before… or pants of any kind.”

You looked down at your outfit with a smile, glad it was at least still professional and not sweats and a t-shirt or something.  “Yeah, I guess you haven’t.  First time for everything, right?”

“Yeah, had a lot of first times with you,” he chuckled.  “Most significantly less mundane than this.”

A brief silence filled the room but it wasn’t exactly awkward, at least not for you.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” he decided as he grabbed his jacket from your chair and slipped it on.  You’d been spending most of this session trying to forget how good he looked in the leather motorcycle cut, so that was out the window now as you tried to keep from visibly biting your lip while he walked towards the door.

Damn, he was fine.  But there were more pressing matters at hand.  Like preparing yourself and your apartment for your next appointment.  This guy wanted to get slapped around until he cried… shouldn't be too difficult, but your arms would probably be sore tomorrow.

Opposite of last week, I really want you to edge me tonight, as long as possible.

Don't go easy on me, make me hold it in.  I need a challenge this week.

-J

It was odd how emails from James made your week.

He seemed to prefer to communicate his desire with you this way; maybe it was easier for him, and you couldn’t really blame him for that.  The nice part was that you didn’t have to temper your reactions, if you had any, since you were always alone when you got his messages.  You might be old hat at it now, but you could remember a time that you had to hide a grimace when a client told you to your face what he wanted.  Not that you would shame them for it or anything (unless, you know, they paid you to), but you didn’t enjoy everything you did with these men.

Did you enjoy everything you did with James?  Yes, but you were pretending not to— for your own sake.

You dressed a bit differently for today’s session, more conservatively… not that it was especially conservative by any other person’s standards.  But it left your legs and chest covered, somewhat in the spirit of ‘mean corporate businesswoman’ aesthetically.  For some reason you felt like using a riding crop required wearing pants.

James certainly didn’t seem to mind, with the way he nervously cleared his throat after you opened the door.

“Good to see you again,” you greeted formally, “please, come in.”

He stepped past you, still looking at you and not at what was in front of him, meaning he ended up slamming himself gut-first into your kitchen island.

“Oh!  Are you alright?” you smiled when you noticed. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he nodded, rubbing his stomach for a second but recovering quickly.  “I told you I can take a lot of pain,” he joked.

“Well, we’re going to put that to the test today,” you promised cryptically.  “You must’ve seen the crop on the table.”

He nodded again.  “Yeah....”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yes,” he answered, a bit too quickly.

“Then let’s get you tied up, James.”

Straddling his lap, you realized the rope was a bit too tight when you saw it digging into his skin; maybe he wouldn’t mind that, but you did, so you pushed the rope back through itself to loosen it slightly.

“How long did it take you to learn all these knots?” he asked casually, watching your fingers nimbly work the ropes around his wrists.

“Not too long,” you shrugged, “I’ve only been doing this a few years… but I knew them before that.”

“Boating school?  Boy Scouts?” he suggested jokingly.

“Just a hobby,” you decided, dodging the covert question about your past.  “Were you a Boy Scout?”

“Do I look like a Boy Scout?” he countered with a scoff.

“Not anymore,” you shrugged, “but I bet you did once.  You’re sorta innocent, you know.”

He swallowed dryly, and you raised an eyebrow as you glanced from the knot you were tightening to his face, which looked a bit flustered.  “R-really?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, leaning back on your heels to look at him straight-on.  “Are you surprised to hear that?”

He nodded quickly, and you laughed.

“Aw, you thought you were so kinky, huh?  So dirty,” you purred, running your hand up his leg until he tugged slightly on the newly-tied ropes— a subtle way to get him to test them for you.  “But you’re really not.  You’re just my sweet, innocent boy.”

He whined— really, properly whined— and you dug your nails into his skin until he hissed instead.

“I don’t think you believe me,” you noticed, leaning back to reach for the crop behind you.  “You think you’re so filthy and perverted, right?  Are you a pervert, James?”

“Yes,” he breathed, shivering as you let the crop slide gently over his skin— his abs, his hips, his legs which were already quivering so adorably.  “Yes, Mistress.”

“And how’s that?”

“I think about… getting hurt,” he admitted weakly, “when I touch myself.  And I touch myself all the fucking time.”

“Yeah?  How many times a day do you stroke that pretty cock, James?”

“Twice every morning,” he blurted out, “after that it depends.”

You didn’t let yourself show your surprise at that number.  “Depends on what?”

When he hesitated, you hit him sharply on the thigh and he winced.  “Depends on what I… what I end up thinking about.  Sometimes… sometimes something reminds me, and I have to get off.”

Something told you not to press on what it was that he needed to be reminded of, and why it made him want to jerk off so bad.  Something told you he wasn’t ready to tell that story yet.  “Did you touch yourself today already?” you asked instead.

“No, no ma’am,” he shook his head, voice wavering as you brushed the crop over his chest, “it’s… it’s different with you.”

“Yeah, I bet it is,” you smirked, hitting him on the stomach quickly.  “I bet you’re finally satisfied, right?  Nothing’s ever worked for you before.”

“Yes,” he moaned, crying out slightly when you hit him on the arm (flesh— you were too afraid what sound the metal one would make) much harder than before.  “The nights I see you, I… I can sleep.”

“You sleep better?”

“No, I just… sleep.”

You tried not to react to that, moving to a new question instead.  “Do you want me to hit you again?  Or do you want me to stroke your cock for you?”

An obvious choice to some, surely, but he seemed to really struggle with it.

“Which one do you think you deserve?” you asked instead.

“Hit me more,” he decided.

Instantly, you struck him once on the face and again on the shoulder, then moved down to his legs for three in a row in spite of the way his body jerked away instinctively.  

“Fuck,” he sobbed, “don’t stop— I need more…”

You focused on his legs, on the inside of his thigh where he seemed the most sensitive.  His twisted joy turned to true fear, though, when you brushed the end of the crop over his balls.  “Do you want me to hit you here?” you challenged.

“I… I don’t know,” he stammered.

“Let’s make a deal, James,” you offered, “wherever I hit you, I’m gonna kiss it to make it better.”

“Then hit me wherever you want,” he nodded, almost smiling at you.  He cried through his teeth when you whipped his shaft with the crop— not especially hard, in fact quite delicately, though the second was harder.  And the third, though not much more aggressive, was right on the sensitive tip; his eyes shot open and his hips jerked away.

“So good, such a good boy,” you whispered proudly, putting the crop aside to lean in and kiss his cheek where you’d hit him before, his shoulder, his arm.

You worked your way down carefully as he breathed heavily beneath you, whimpering slightly when you kissed his thighs and notably ignored his flexing, leaking cock.  “Please,” he whimpered.

“Shh, be patient,” you soothed, “be my good boy.”

“Your good boy,” he repeated, trying to restrain himself but already bucking up into the air again, “fuck, wanna be your good boy, Mistress.”

“Are you already close, pet, just from getting hurt?” you asked in a faux pout.  “You’re not gonna come if I give your pretty cock some kisses, right?”

“I— I won’t come,” he promised.  “Not until I get permission.”

“Baby, it’s gonna be a long fuckin’ time before you get permission,” you promised with a toothy grin.  “Look down at me, honey, I want you to see this.”

He hesitated for a second but obeyed, looking down at you with an expression that was full of awe as you gripped his cock and gave gentle, teasing kisses up his shaft.  It bobbed in your hands with each one, and he let out the most beautiful sigh when you kissed the tip carefully.

A wide lick made him jerk beneath you.  “F-Fuck,” he stammered.

“You said you wouldn’t come,” you reminded him.  “Can I keep going?  Are you gonna be a good boy?”

“Don’t stop, please,” he breathed, “I’ll be good.”

Taking the head between your lips, you suckled gently as he shivered and moaned.  You weren’t sure you’d ever been with anybody— on or off the clock— who was so sensitive.  And you loved it, honestly; who could resist those precious noises he made?

As much as part of you wanted to go nuts and really push him to the edge, you tried to be gentle and careful so as not to make it impossible for him to hold back.  But even then, when you gently grasped his balls in one of your hands and squeezed them, he apparently couldn’t take anymore.

"S-stop," he hissed, and you pulled back, sitting up.

"You were close?" you asked, and he nodded a little.  "Oh, what a good boy."

He whimpered briefly.  "Yes, your good boy, Mistress…"

Your fingers trailed delicately up the underside of his cock, making him shiver violently.  "I know you want to come, but you want to be good even more.  You're such a sweet little pet."

It seemed like the praises did more to keep him on the edge than the touches, so you kept both going; wrapping your fingers around the ridge of his head, you gave the most gentle and subtle strokes, and leaned in to whisper against his ear.

“Is this why you wanted me to edge you today, James?  So you could show me how good you can be?” 

“I-I don’t know,” he blurted out, rocking his hips as best he could while restrained, “I just wanted to… I just wanted you to make me wait.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that,” you laughed slightly, “I can make you wait all day.  Is that what you want?”

“No, that’s— not that long, I can’t wait that long,” he shuddered.

“Mm, that sounds like your problem, not mine,” you smirked.  “Not sure why I asked what you want, honestly… cause I don’t fucking care.”

His choked-out whine was too perfect to ignore.

“Oh, what a pathetic little moan that was, poor baby,” you cooed mockingly, “are you regretting it now?  You’re probably wondering what you got yourself into, ‘cause you’re worried Mistress is never gonna let you come.”

“No, I don’t regret it,” he denied weakly, “whatever you want— do whatever you want to me, just… give me what I deserve, please.”

You stopped touching him completely and he straight-up sobbed.  “You don’t deserve anything from me, James.  You don’t deserve me at all.”

He told you before that he liked when you rapidly cycled between soft and mean.  Kept him on his toes, apparently.  Honestly, you felt a little guilty talking to him that way sometimes, but his cock leaking enough pre-cum to soak the bedsheets beneath him was a sign you were doing something right.  “I know!” he cried.  “I know, fuck, I’m sorry, but I need you.  I fucking need you, Mistress, please— you know I’ll do anything.”

“I’m feeling generous today,” you shrugged, “so I won’t ask you for much.  Just beg me a little more.”

“Please, pleasepleaseplease,” he rushed, “touch me.  Anywhere, whatever you want, I just need to feel you.  I know I… fuck, I know I don’t deserve it, but let me try to— to earn it.  Please.”

You knew if he had it his way, he wouldn’t do much talking at all.  But you couldn’t just let him have it his way, now could you?  It was better to make him just the right amount of nervous, just the slightest hair uncomfortable, by making him talk to you.  And, of course, you liked the way his deep and rough voice got all whiny and needy like this.

One finger under his chin guided him to look up at you, those pretty blue eyes watery and sparkling and wide with misplaced innocence.

“Tell me who you belong to, James,” you instructed darkly.

“You, Mistress,” he whispered, “I’m yours, I— oh fuck…”

Unshockingly, he was reduced to only moans again when you started stroking his cock, the slick precum making every movement smoother.  “All mine, huh?  My little toy?” you confirmed, but he could only nod and swallow thickly.

You sped up quickly, getting faster and faster until you were really, properly jerking him off and he was biting hard on his lip.  Just when he seemed to really fall into it, get almost comfortable, you had to stop.

"Oh, fuck—" he gasped, bucking his hips up to try to chase your hand when you pulled away, but it was no use with him tied up.  You watched his cock bob in the air and smiled.

“Did you think it was going to be that easy?” you smirked.

Shaking his head, you tilted yours to look at him, reaching up to trace your fingers over his chest.  

“Don’t lie, baby, you thought I was gonna let you come, didn’t you?  You’re so sweet, James, and so, so stupid.”

He gasped, and for a second you thought you might’ve gone too far, but it shifted to a moan quickly and you realized he was having the time of his life.

“Just my dumb, brainless little toy,” you continued with a snarl, watching him tug at the ropes as his eyes fluttered shut.  “It’s okay, James, it’s okay… you don’t need to think, I don’t want your mind.  It’s useless.  I want this pretty cock, that’s all I want from you.”

“It’s all yours, Mistress,” he promised, cheeks burning bright red and eyes forced shut.  “All of it, I swear.”

“I know,” you cooed, holding his face gently to soothe him a bit.  But then your other hand wrapped around his cock and he was anything but soothed.  “Shh, shh, don’t make any sounds, you’re just a toy and toys need to stay quiet.”

You missed his noises, actually, but he looked so cute biting his lip and struggling to suppress them.  His cock was so swollen in your hand that you honestly wondered if it was somehow getting bigger.  Was that even possible?  Your mouth was watering regardless.

“I’m gonna give you a little break,” you promised gently, “but I’ll be honest, pretty boy… I don’t think you’re gonna like it one bit.”

The look he gave you beautifully balanced fear with anticipation, and you stopped stroking him to reach over towards the bedside drawer and pull out a vibrator.

“Your Mistress is feeling a little.... self-indulgent today,” you winked.  “And since I, unlike you, don’t need to hold myself back from coming, I think I might as well get myself off if I want to.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed dryly, watching you closely as you stood up off the bed and started to carefully undress yourself.  It was a lot more fun to get naked when you were wearing something that didn’t actually show much skin— the button-up seemed to really get him going, his tongue mindlessly darting out to lick his lips as you opened one button at a time.

Once it was off your shoulders and on the floor, and he could see the almost-transparent bra you had on, you moved to opening your trousers as well.  Just to be mean, you faced the other way as you pushed them down over your ass; you heard his breath catch and you smirked to yourself, spinning to face him again in just the matching, dark red bra and panty set.

“What do you think, do you like this better than the black ones?” you asked coyly.

“I like you naked better than both,” he answered, and you grinned.

“I’m gonna let that backtalk slide just once because it’s not worth my time to go over there and slap you for it,” you decided.  “But don’t test me, James.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered dutifully, sounding a bit out of breath as he watched you climb back onto the bed, positioning yourself carefully.

You faced him straight-on and laid your legs over his, meaning your lace-covered pussy was in full view and only inches from his leaking cock— the damn thing looked sore by now, purple at the tip and just as desperate for attention as the rest of him.

When you pulled the fabric aside to show him your cunt, he hissed and looked away.

“Look at me, James, keep your eyes open,” you demanded, seeing how totally wrecked he looked when he turned his head back to you and stared down at your body with half-lidded eyes.  “Look at how fucking soaked my pussy is.  You remember how it feels to be inside it, don’t you?”

He swallowed, sighed, and finally (just barely) nodded.

“You remember how hot and wet and tight it is, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he choked.

“Well, that memory’s all you’ve got to work with, sweet boy, because I don’t think I’m ever gonna let you fuck this pussy again.”

He really, properly sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks, and those arms flexed against the ropes defiantly.  “N-no, please—” 

“I’m gonna make myself come with this,” you promised, interrupting him as you grabbed the vibe, “and I want you to remember how it feels when I come around you, okay?  

Turning it on, you wasted no time pressing it to your clit, moving the end of the toy in slow circles and keeping a close eye on him as he watched you.  Your intention had always been to give him a show, but the embarrassing thing was how little of it was an act.  Ironically, even though you’d been edging him this whole time, having to touch him that way without any pleasure for yourself was almost as torturous.  You’d soaked through your panties by the time you had him tied up, to be totally honest.  So, giving into it and letting yourself feel good was a breeze.

“Think about when I was riding you, James,” you instructed, your own voice clearly affected by your pleasure now.  “Think about how good it would feel if I let you come inside me.”

“Oh, god,” he cried, leaning his head back.

“Think about my pussy milking every fucking drop of come out of you.  You know I wouldn’t let you stop until I was completely full of your come, I bet you’d like that.  I bet you’d like to eat your come out of me, you sick little pervert.”

“Fuck!” he yelped, tugging at the ropes harder now— for a second you thought he might really break them and jump you.  And for a second, you knew you’d let him.  It made your walls clench as you imagined facing the consequences of driving a man to the brink of insanity until he couldn’t help but fuck you like an animal.  It was a good thing he didn’t see you bite your lip as you imagined that.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” you taunted.  

“God, don’t tell me,” he sighed through his teeth, but obviously you ignored him.

“I’m thinking about what a good boy you are for me,” you cooed, your hips starting to rock up against where you held the end of the vibrator; you pressed it down harder onto your clit and moaned instantly.  “Yeah, I’m thinking about how pretty you look when you’re all desperate and needy and fucking pathetic—”

“Oh—” he choked.

“My dumb litlte whore, that’s all you are, James,” you groaned.  “I know you wish you could touch me, it’s all you can think about, right?  That pretty head of yours would be completely empty if it weren’t for thoughts of me and how badly you want me.  Right?”

“Yes,” he whispered huskily.

A shiver ran up your spine when the vibrator bumped into a more sensitive part of you, and you did it again and again until you thought you might lose it a bit faster than you meant to.  “This toy feels really good,” you informed him in a purr, gasping when you slipped the vibrating body of it into your pussy, “but it doesn’t feel as good inside me as you do.”

His eyes fell shut but he still winced a bit every time you made a sound; he couldn’t run from this, no matter how hard he tried.

“Oh James,” you moaned loudly, fucking yourself with the vibe for a moment before you pulled it back out to focus even harder on your clit, “I’m gonna come.  I’m so, so close… I can feel it getting stronger, I think I might make a mess on these sheets.  And the only way I’m ever gonna let you come is if you watch me do it.  So open your fucking eyes.”

He blinked quickly as he opened them, gaze scanning your whole body before settling on your cunt; you were sure he could see it pulsing as you got closer and closer, you knew he was imagining how it would feel.  You only spared a brief glimpse at his cock, bobbing between his legs, and wished you could just slip it in you now and come while it stretched you out. 

But that wasn’t what he was here for, sadly, and you were sure you were the only being truly denied of your desires, despite how it probably seemed from the outside.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, numbness starting to tingle in your legs as your orgasm built up quicker than even you expected.  “I’m coming— James, I’m coming, oh, fuck… right there— yes!”

A gush of heat warmed your cunt at the same time that shocks ran up your spine and down your limbs; you could feel your legs shaking, and you knew he could, too.  

It got so intense for a second that you had to pull the vibrator away, though you didn’t stop coming until a few moments later, eyes falling shut without you meaning for them to.

You actually laughed a bit, breathlessly, as you turned the vibe off and set it aside, although you weren’t sure exactly what was supposed to be funny about this per se.  When you opened your eyes, you saw James looking down and looking positively defeated.  But he looked tense, too, and you sat up on your wobbly legs to get closer to his face.  

“Relax, James,” you told him firmly as you examined him.

“I— I can’t,” he whispered. 

“Why not?”

“I’ll come.”

Nothing could fight your wide grin anymore, not when you heard that.  “Oh, baby… are you about to come without even being touched?  Is that how much you liked watching Mistress come?”

He nodded, ever so slightly, and you laughed.  Not quite a mocking laugh, moreso impressed.  Prideful, even.  You leaned in to give a wet kiss to his neck, licking over his pulse as he shivered violently.

“That’s my good boy,” you whispered against his skin.  He whined and you cooed soothingly right away, “oh I know, I know.  It’s so unfair, isn’t it?  Mistress gets to come and you don’t…”

“Please,” he stammered, “I’m so close, let me come, please.”

“But I don’t wanna see you come, baby— I wanna see you cry.”

You started to slide your hand down his chest and he jumped up to attention as he tried to squirm away.  “No, please, don’t— don’t touch my cock, not if I can’t come.”

“You can hold it in, can’t you?” you pouted.

“No, I can’t, I can’t,” he sobbed, watching fearfully as your hand moved down to his stomach and over his hips.  

“But I thought you were my good boy,” you frowned, suddenly wrapping your hand tight around his cock as he choked on a gasp.

“Mistress!” he sobbed.  “Please, don’t—  don’t move your hand, I’ll come.”

"Never fucking tell me what to do," you instructed firmly, just barely stroking as he cried weakly.  "I'm gonna touch you however I want and you're not gonna come because you're my good boy, right?"

"No, Mistress, I can't stop it, I'm gonna come— stop, please…"

"You'd better not fucking come," you hissed through your teeth, speeding up your movements and watching his eyes shoot wide open, "you'd better hold it in until I'm done with you."

"I'm trying— please slow down, can't take it—"

You shook your head, tutting disapprovingly.  "No, baby, I tell you what you can take."

"Oh— oh god, Mistress, please, please stop, please, I c-can't— fuck!"

You pulled your hand away the second his cock started to flex but it was too late: come was shooting from his swollen tip and painting his chest and stomach.  You didn't even wait until he was done to backhand him across the face.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled.  "I'm so sorry, I couldn't help it…"

You softened slightly when you heard his broken voice, saw the desperation and fear on his face— it was real, more real than the fake ‘no’s and the encouraging pleas for mercy.  "Baby, it's okay, you tried so hard," you soothed instantly.

Hope filled his eyes just as much as tears as he looked up at you.  "Am I still your good boy?"

"Always," you smiled, caressing his face where it was already turning red from your slap.  

You reached down and caressed his cock with the back of your fingers, watching it flex weakly.  

“Let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

His lip twitched, almost like a wince.  “Do we… do we have to stop?”

You quickly glanced at the clock.  “Um, no,” you mumbled, “we still have time.  Just tell me what you want.”

“I wanna watch you come again…” he admitted softly.  “Is… is that okay?”

Although you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, you were still surprised.  “Yeah, sure.”

“But… but closer this time,” he added, “not so far away.”

You were literally laying on top of him, how did that count as far away? 

“I wanna see your face,” he clarified.

“Okay,” you nodded, deciding to indulge him.  It was sort of like aftercare, except that this wasn’t exactly the ‘after’ part yet.

On your knees beside where he was leaning back against the headboard, you slipped your hand down into the lace panties again, finding your clit still swollen but not too sensitive.  A little gasp fell from your lips when you touched it, rubbing it carefully with two fingers while he looked up at your face.  

You felt slightly exposed when he watched you this close, and you didn’t know where to look to avoid direct eye contact.  Looking at his lips was just a little too tempting, so that wouldn’t work.

“My hands are a little tired,” you explained, “they might cramp up.  Maybe I could use your thigh…”

“O-okay,” he nodded, and you removed your fingers from your panties to sit down on the thick muscle of his leg.  You felt him tense up under you slightly, and you carefully began to rock your hips until your clit rubbed just right against the inside of your underwear.  Surely he could feel how wet you were— actually, you both could hear it, almost a wet clicking-like noise as the soaked lace slid against your skin.

The dynamic shifted slightly, not that you minded it, as he watched you ride him carefully.  Just as he couldn’t hide much from you when he was naked and tied up and baring his soul to you in the kinkiest way possible, you couldn’t hide your pleasure from him when he was looking at your face so up-close.  You let your hands carefully roam his body, narrowly avoiding the trails of cooling come he’d left on his stomach and chest, until you found his strong shoulders and held onto them for balance.

“Fuck,” you mumbled to yourself, biting your lip as your sore clit throbbed against his hard, muscular thigh.  

“Will you… could you kiss me?” he requested quietly, and your heart broke a little bit.  You shook your head, and he nodded in understanding.

“I’ll kiss you here,” you offered instead, whispering against his skin before you pressed your lips to his forehead, then his cheek, then his jaw.  “Is that better, James?”

“It helps,” he agreed in a sigh.  

“I’m close,” you warned quietly, pressing your cheek to his and weaving one hand into his hair.  “I’m gonna come again, on your thigh.”

“Let me touch you,” he begged, “just a little, please…”

You nodded, about to reach forward to untie one of his hands, but he snapped the ropes and you had totally forgotten he could do that.  He quickly ran his touch all over your body, calloused hands and bound wrists in stark contrast to your soft skin.  The metal one was a little cold but it didn’t bother you; the other was almost too hot, and it was like being warmed and cooled all at once.

He ran his fingers down your spine, he gripped one of your shoulders, he rubbed your legs: he did everything he must have been wishing he could do this whole time, even gasping as he ran one hand up your chest and over a cup of your bra.  Just as you sensed that he was about to ask if he could touch you there, you nodded and felt his metal hand tug down the red lace and grab your breast— thankfully not very hard, though he did give your nipple a quick pinch which made you gasp.

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he finally settled his hands on holding your hips, just tight enough to slightly guide your movements as you rocked faster and more desperately.  “Please come,” he begged weakly, “Mistress, please… use me.”

It sort of hit you all at once then, like a punch to the gut.  Except, you know, a lot more fun than getting punched in the gut.

“James,” you gasped, legs quivering where they straddled his as a new patch of slick soaked the lace (and presumably his thigh as well).  He held you tight, kept you moving through it while your fingers tangled in his hair and your mouth fell slack for another, louder moan.

The way his lips moved over your skin, laving your collarbones and pulse point and the innermost corner of your jaw, was positively worshipful; reverent.  “Mistress,” he whispered, almost sounding like praise but tinted with awe.  Your movements slowed down to a stop and the two of you breathed a sigh together, unintentionally.  “Thank you,” he mumbled.

“What for?” you asked, blinking quickly and looking down at him, coming back to reality (though you weren’t quite sure where else it was that you had just been).

“I dunno, everything,” he decided.

“Don’t thank me,” you smiled.  “Keep paying me, though.”

He laughed a little, glancing away.  “Yeah, and I’ll pay you back for these ropes… sorry."

"No, hey, don't be sorry," you dismissed, getting up off of his leg and standing up to go grab a towel for him.  "I'm just sorry we still haven't found anything strong enough to hold you."

"It's fine, they're strong enough to make me stop myself when I want to do something I shouldn't, that's all that really matters."

You nodded to yourself as you dampened the towel and came back to wipe him off.

"I can do that for myself," he reminded you, sounding a bit embarrassed, but you thought it was sweet. 

“You just focus on getting those ropes off of yourself,” you decided with a little smile.

#sub!bucky barnes x domme!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

[forsakenmis]

After the snap

Summary: Wanda was snapped away. You, on the other hand, remained and had moved on. You moved out of the country, started a new job, and had even gone on a few dates. Then everyone came back and suddenly a familiar witch was knocking on your workplace door.

Pairings: Top!Wanda x Reader

Warnings: dark!wanda, oral (r receiving), strap, public sex, posessive wanda, mummy kink

You’d long put away the shield (so to speak) and were at a point that going back to everyone just seemed so jarring. Maybe you didn’t want to believe it wasn’t true. After five years of grieving, of building a new life, and suddenly everyone’s just….back.

Wanda was back.

You knew it was wrong to have not contacted her. For her, it must seem like yesterday that you were whispering your plans about eloping, but that was five years ago. You moved on. Found someone else. She was nice, sweet, normal. She worked as a custom officer but she could spend hours and hours talking about all these topics that fascinated you.

She also was very predictable and normal.

Admittedly, your relationship hadn’t quite been defined. You suspected she was seeing other people, keeping her options open, and you weren’t sure how long you two were going to last but you were enjoying the time that you had together.

On top of that, you had a job at a bookstore that paid your rent. Sure, it wasn’t as flashy as it was back then but you liked being surrounded by all the books, some new and some falling apart. You spent a lot of pride restoring the latter in the back. You never had much of a chance to read before everything happened, your life was mostly spent trying to make sure everyone didn’t die.

Your abilities were healing based and that was more useful than you had initially thought when you first met them all. In fact, you thought you were awfully inadequate compared to people like Steve Rogers, Thor and Wanda Maximoff. But your time was kept filled to the brim.

Your only time to relax was your time with Wanda.

It had started off innocent enough. She used to stay with you after you finished up in the medic bay. She’d have dinner with you. Admittedly, you were pretty sure she didn’t have many other friends in the complex. Then it grew until she was fucking you every chance she could get. How else would either of you relax?

But that was a long time ago. You were done with that life. You weren’t the same person anymore. You ran and started a new life and not even the idea of Wanda could make you go back and maybe she was just that–an idea.

You were confident none of them would find you. Natasha couldn’t. You knew she had been trying to track you down like she had for Clint but no one came knocking on your door. So if they couldn’t, you were pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to find you either.

You’d just closed shop, the sunset streaming through the shutters covering the windows, and were taking stock. It had been a quiet day, but it was always quiet on a Tuesday so you had easily reached the predicted quota. The one downside was your boss, but he was only around once a week.

He was the kid of some millionaire who was trying to be hip and all that. So he opened some urban bookstore but he was too busy partying to actually stay on top of the business. Which is fine-you liked that arrangement. You’ll keep the shop running and he’ll never be up in your business. It worked without a bump in the road.

You were nearly done for the day, all you had to do after was–

The bell attached to the door trinkled. Someone had walked in. It was nearly half past, well past closing, so surely your boss would understand if you told whoever it is to leave. You were behind the shelves, you couldn’t see who had walked in. They weren’t making a lot of noise. Some people just had that soft touch, usually women.

Coming out to the front, your mouth already opening to ask them to leave, your words died in your throat.

Wanda.

Your eyes were frozen on her face, her eyes, those big doe eyes that always drew you in. She was smiling, an expression full of relief, and she was taking you in, grazing your body, before she moved forward to close the distance.

You stepped back.

Frozen with the air changing. Heavier, like you could feel the gravity pulling you down. Her light, happy, expression melted off and confusion replaced it.

“Wanda,” you said, wanting to cut her off, you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t listen to her. She’d want you to come back. Five years for you, a few days for her. “You shouldn’t be here.”

You may as well have slapped her.

“Shouldn’t be here?” Wanda repeated and you closed your eyes. For the first time in years, you heard her voice. That voice that whispered to you in your dreams. A voice you thought you could hear every time you were alone. “I think I’m exactly where I need to be.”

When you opened your eyes again, you jumped, she was right there. You didn’t even hear her footsteps. “Wan–” you began but then her lips were on yours, her tongue sliding into your open mouth and you grunted in shock. You didn’t kiss back but you didn’t push her off either. You froze. You let her tongue be pushed down your throat as her hands slid onto your cheeks.

Her thumbs beginning to rub small circles into your skin pushed you back into action, your hands going to hips to shove her off you hard enough that she stumbled back a few steps.

“Wanda, I can’t,” you hissed out. “It’s been five years. I…”

“Why aren’t you happy then?” Wanda asked, bewilderment splashed across her face and almost instantly did guilt wash through you. Like you were betraying her somehow. “I was gone for five years, and now I’m back. Why didn’t you come back? Surely, you didn’t move on that easily?”

With that, the guilt was gone.

“Easily?” You hissed out, your hands balling into fists, “don’t come into my shop and–”

You stopped. It was no use getting angry. Your sentences always fumbled into one elongated word that no one could ever understand. “You have no idea what the five years have been like,” you snapped and she tilted her head, just slightly, but enough that a cold chill went down your spine. “You shouldn’t have looked for me. I’m not interested in going back to the avengers. I moved on.”

With that, you turned on your heel to go behind the desk, tapping away at the register. Maybe if you ignored her, she’d get the hint and leave.

“So you developed an attitude?” Wanda remarked and slid her hands into the woollen cardigan that...you knitted her. You frowned when you made the connection. You spent hours labouring away at it. It wasn’t that good, the colours were awful, but she rarely took it off. “Seems we have to start at square one again.”

You frowned. You seem to be doing that a lot. You could already see the wrinkles beginning to form on your forehead. Why wasn’t she listening to you? “I’m seeing someone,” you blurted out as the cash register popped open loudly and Wanda’s face went blank as she registered what you just said. “A girl. She’s nice.”

You weren’t sure if you just signed this girl’s death certificate.

You kept eye contact with the Sokovian and even when her face morphed into a cold fury you hadn’t seen since the civil war. Her expression was tight and it almost looked like she was trying to hold herself back.

“I see.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered after a moment, “I...I know this can’t be easy for you either. I know it must seem like last week that...well. You know. I just...that life is over, for me at least. I hope you can understand.”

Wanda was silent. She was being too silent. She didn’t say anything, she stood there watching you, and you were too nervous to say anything else or make the next move. Maybe, hopefully, Wanda wouldn’t even say anything else, just walk out. Resent you for the rest of her life. It was better that way.

Instead she walked around the register and your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Wanda-”

“Shut up,” she hissed, her hand whipping up to grab your jaw. Your hands shot up to her wrists and she dragged you forward, closer to her face. “Do you really think I’d let you give up on us this easily? That I’d let you whore yourself out to some girl off the street?”

You didn’t say anything but your glare said enough.

“I trained you so well. I spent years breaking you in, years loving you, and you treat me like this? Like I’m just some common bitch you can throw onto the street?” Wanda’s tone didn’t match her words. Her tone was soft, almost a coo, sounding more disappointed than angry. You almost wished she was more angry than disappointed.

Her lips were on yours again and her hand moved to the back of your head, her teeth biting down into your lips and you groaned at the sharp pain, giving her entrance back into your mouth.

A hand went down between your legs, rubbing, and you instinctively opened your legs. Your body remembered her. Remembered her scent. Everything.

Wanda hummed in approval and soon you were being pushed onto the counter. She broke the kiss, pulling back to look down at you, her hands beginning to rub the inside of your thighs. “Just one night,” she whispered, her expression already having smoothed out, as if that kiss, your touch, was all she needed. “One night with me and if you still want me to leave by the end of the night...well, I’ll leave you alone. Forever. Even if you change your mind. Even if you come crawling back, begging.”

You doubted her. Something in the back of your mind didn’t believe her. On anything. You were pretty sure she wanted you to beg. Your hands were shaking and you gulped. Everything about this reminded you of when you were last happy. Like you were back in the avengers tower where nothing was going wrong.

Her lips were on yours again and her hands soon began to pull at your skirt, ripping them off you with ease, to find nothing but your bare cunt for anyone to see. You jerked up when her hand slammed against it, slapping it. Once, twice, three times, four. “You dirty little whore,” she whispered, “you let anyone and everyone see this, didn’t you?” She slid a finger into your folds and your bottom lip trembled.

“Wanda…” you whispered, feeling your own walls beginning to crumble. Maybe one night wasn’t so bad. One night. One indulgence.

“It’s mine tonight,” Wanda confirmed before suddenly her hands were on your waist and flipped you around and your stomach slapped onto the desk, taking away your breath, leaving you gasping. “You said I didn’t know what happened. In the past five years. You’re right, I don’t, but you’re going to tell me. Tell me everything I missed. If you leave anything out, and I know when you do sweetheart, I’ll stop. Understand me?”

“Yes,” you breathed out as you felt her mouth in between your legs, her tongue lapping at your clit and your back arched as you tried to push more of yourself into her. Soon, it started spilling out. What you did the first few months, how you struggled to get out of bed, how you travelled the world. Therapy. Everything. Her tongue didn’t stop, in fact the more you spilt, her tongue sped up, making you wetter and wetter by the second. “I couldn’t get you out of my head,” you mumbled by the end of it, “I found her. She was everything you weren’t. Mundane. Boring.”

Your stomach was tightening, that tempting release building and building, so expertly brought on by the way Wanda devoured you, the way she breathed onto your throbbing clit, the way her tongue teased your gaping entrance. When you stopped, she pulled away and you bit down onto your bottom lip to stop yourself from cursing.

“Such a good little whore for me,” Wanda purred, her hand falling in between your slit to rub your clit and the moan that left your mouth sacrificed any and all self respect that you might have been clinging onto. “This is where you belong isn’t it? Bent over for mummy. I treat you so well, don’t I?”

Two fingers dipped into your already gaping entrance pushing them in and out. “I think you deserve a little reward,” Wanda hummed out, “for being so honest with mummy.”

You didn’t have much long to prepare before you felt a strap push into your entrance and you gasped in a sharp breath, your eyes bulging and your body pressed forward. Wanda didn’t push into you completely, only pushed the tip in and out, focussing on the one area.

In truth, that was worse than if she shoved into you completely. You were forced to focus on that one area, not get that relief if she were to push in deeper, and it was as if she was grabbing at every inch of your mind, forcing you to feel nothing but that tip dipping in and out of your body.

“Tell me…” she whispered, her hands coming onto your waist to grip them, nails digging into your skin, “tell me where you belong, baby girl. Who you belong to. Look at you, five years without me and you still get so wet for me. I go in so easily. Don’t worry, baby, I’m not going to leave you again.”

“W-w-” you choked out and you took in a breath, trying to contain the moans slipping out of your mouth, “you said one–”

Her hand slammed down onto your bare ass and you jerked forward. Still, she didn’t go deeper, didn’t give you what you wanted. Still, you didn’t verbalise this. Your skin was stinging and your fingers reached up to hang onto the edge of the desk.

“Answer my question, don’t make me treat you like a common whore,” Wanda hissed, pulling out completely just to thrust back in, shoving more of the shaft inside of you, ripping your walls open, but then she pulled back to just the tip again.

Then the doorbell rang again and it was as if someone poured a bucket of ice cold water all over your body. Your vision was already blurring by this point but you could see her outline, the blonde hair, standing at the door.

Wanda slammed into you, bottoming out, and a scream shot out of your lips, whilst her hands were in your hair, pulling your head back until your neck was straining. She could see your face, see every expression you pulled as Wanda began to fuck you without restraint.

“If I were you,” Wanda’s voice broke through your moans and screams, icy cold and calm despite the way she was beginning to thrust inside of you, “I’d leave and never come back. If you knew what was good for you, you’d wipe my girl from everything. Phone, address, memories.”

You couldn’t hear what she said, you could hear her voice, but unlike Wanda, it was all a garbled mess. Even in this state, Wanda’s words were in absolute clarity. You watched her leave. The door clicked shut and you swore you could see red mist at the door, locking it.

Wanda bent over you, pressing down onto your back, lips pressing against your neck, sucking and nipping, her hips still pushing inside of you, pushing you closer and closer to an orgasm that was tightening at the base of your stomach.

Then her movements slowed until she was completely still, her strap still inside of you, your walls wrapped around it, clinging to it.

“Much better, just us,” Wanda whispered as she nipped at your earlobe and you moaned. “You take my cock so well, don’t you? No, I couldn’t dream of letting you go, not when you’re such a good girl for me. I’ll take you with me and I’ll give you the life you want. A normal life, where no one will ever hurt you. You can read all you want. Forget the world outside. Just us two, together.”

“Mummy,” you whispered and you could feel her body vibrate as she hummed in approval. “Mummy, please.”

“Tell me where you belong,” she whispered back as she began to move her hips again.

“With you, mummy, under you. I missed you so much,” you whispered, “I belong to you. I always have.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know you did,” Wanda whispered before she stretched up and her hands went to your elbows, pulling you up from the table before she began to rail you. Sharp thrusts, slamming into you again and again, and tears began to burn the back of your eyes as pleasure began to roll through you. “You're going to cum for me like a good girl. Then you’re going to lie on this table to wait as I go pack your bags. You live above this, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, mummy,” you choked out as your orgasm was already threatening to flow through you. You could feel your own juices dripping down your thighs and you knew that your boss would be walking in to find an absolute mess.

“And then we’ll leave. Together.”

“Together.”

It wasn’t long until you felt like you were choking on your breath, your stomach twisting and churning, your legs trembling, and it was Wanda keeping you up. Otherwise, you would have collapsed onto the table, even the ground.

Soon, you felt it. Felt that blissful euphoria that often put you to sleep wash over you in intense waves that made your toes curl. Wanda was laughing, quietly, as she felt you come undone around her strap. “That’s it, baby girl, let it all go. Good little whore.”

She slid out of you with a pop and you groaned, the disappearing sensation already sorely missed. “Mummy, please, I still need you…” you mumbled, your words drowsy and reality was folding inwards around you as you felt your body hit the table again.

“I’ll be back, in just a moment,” Wanda whispered into your ear before her warmth disappeared and you could hear her moving through the store and up the creaky stairwell. Then your eyes slid open and you took in a deep breath as you began to move. Pushed off the desk, your legs sore and shaky but stable, and you looked for the skirt, long discarded. You knew you only had a small amount of time before she realised or, god forbid, heard you. Pulling the skirt up you grabbed only your wallet, didn’t even dare grab your phone and risk being tracked. You can get a burner if need be. You knew it’d be difficult, if she found you here, then she’d be able to find you wherever you went but...maybe she’ll give up.

You didn’t go through the front door, not with the bell, but there was a small door leading out to the back. Your footsteps were silent as could be, and your heart was beating in your chest. One wrong step and she could hear you. You could hear the banging doors, even her humming, but she didn’t stop.

Soon, you were in the back alley, with nothing but overflowing bins and a motorbike there. Yours. The only thing you kept from Stark. Faster than anything you could buy in a store. You hated riding with a skirt, let alone with these shoes, but what choice did you have?

You only had so much time to run.

#wanda marvel #wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda #wanda x reader #top!wanda #wanda maximov #misfitwrites

[escapingmytrauma]

TRAIL OF RED FEATHERS

YANDERE HAWKS/TAKAMI KEIGO X ANXIOUS F!READER

CW/TW: Yandere behavior, mentions of stalking, kidnapping, nonconsensual drug use/drugging, anxious reader, dub/non-con, somnophilia (?), size kink-ish, minor praise and degradation, dirty talk, possessive behavior, overstimulation, dacryphilia.

A/N: Let me know if I missed any please.

W.C: 7.8K

 DARK CONTENT! DARK CONTENT! DARK CONTENT!

Takami Keigo/Hawks: Trail of Red Feathers

  The constant findings of a red feather always somehow intrigued your curious mind. It never bothered you, you just never understood how you always ended up finding them. You had even brought it up to your friends just for them to respond with, “Huh. I never see those feathers” or “I think your starting to hallucinate.” After those comments you just kept the findings of the red feathers to yourself.

Your mind trailed back to when you first encountered one. Bright colors always entice you and you could never stop your body from walking towards such a color. So, of course when you first encountered such a bold, bright colored feather you immediately picked it up. The softness of the feather brought such a comforting sensation through your fingers. You just had to rub it a little more. A bright smile surfaced on your lips as you took the feather home with you. Then, not long after you found another one; ever since then every time you found one you kept it and took it home with you.

Unbeknownst to you that a red winged, blonde haired man purposely had been leaving them there for you. It was something about your innocence, your purity that drew him to you; unfortunately, that fascination turned to obsession quickly. He would even follow you during his patrols, you occupied his mind every second and he CRAVED for it. The obsession grew substantially over the past couple of weeks to where he was now planning to keep you away from everything and everyone.

It never went unnoticed how many men looked and ogled you. You never understood the reasoning behind it, but you never said anything because your anxiety would always hit and hindered you from telling the person off. It pissed your admirer off that you never said anything for them to back away, but at the same time he understood just how anxious you got… after all you had to take your medication twice a day. The first one at exactly seven a.m. on the dot and second one twelve hours after. He had your whole schedule memorized, not that you had a routine you just liked to stay home often and avoid any social interaction, besides the walks you forced yourself to go on to get some fresh air and sunlight. He liked that, this gave him the upper hand in thinking you would not want to leave, and you would just want to stay with him.

Today your friends invited you to hang out at a local coffee shop, they were always considerate of your anxiety; but you always felt like a burden, you did not want your friends to hold back on having fun just to include you. You did the bare minimum to get ready; brushing your teeth and hair was a struggle within itself, but you forced yourself to do so. You slipped on some shoes and put a light jacket over your shirt. You stepped out of your apartment and made your way outside a small breeze fanning your face as you took a deep breath and walked your way to the coffee shop.

Halfway to your meeting point you felt it. Someone was watching you; sometimes, you thought you were overreacting, but the eerie feeling became more prominent recently. The thumping in your chest gradually became louder to where that was all you could hear; you bit your bottom lip as you so desperately wanted to go back and seek comfort underneath your blanket. A small sigh escaped your lips and you decided against that, you continued your walk as the feeling of someone watching you never left. You finally approached the coffee shop, but you had the urge to look in the direction from where you thought someone was watching. You looked up to your right but so nothing. Just a couple of strangers walking by you.

Was I hallucinating? No. I couldn’t have been.

As your name was called out your head quickly snapped towards the voice to come face to face with Cameron, her bubbly self suddenly calming you down almost instantly. She was the person you were closest to, and she helped you during your hardest times. Cameron frowned a bit noticing your tense stature. “Hey, _____... you okay?” She asked softly, genuine concern evident in her hazel eyes.

“U-uhm…” you hesitated. You did not want the start of this hang out to be clouded with your own delusions.

“Hey, when you are ready to tell me, I’m here for you!” Cameron gave you a wide smile. Relief pulsed through your blood as she gently too your arm and y’all walked inside the coffee shop.

The aroma of coffee beans immediately tickling your sense of smell. Cameron took a deep inhale as well. “Ughh... I just love the smell of coffee.”

A small giggle left your lips as you silently agreed. Cameron looked over to you with a genuine smile. She wanted nothing more than to see you happy.

After ordering y’all picked the corner table away from the crowd patiently waiting for the order and the rest of the group to show up (which was only three more). As they all slowly showed up one by one; your coffee had already arrived as your index tapped vigorously against the edge of the cup. You steadied your hands as much as you could, bringing the mug slowly up to your lips you took a small sip. The warmth of the coffee and the right amount of sweetness causing you to let out a small hum.

You heard the door chime and a couple of gasps were heard throughout the area. You looked up to see what the commotion was. A blonde-haired man with red wings walked in. You looked over to Cameron who was also in awe; you were so confused. You didn’t know who this was, but everyone else seemed to know. You tugged quietly at Cameron’s sleeve and she turned to you.

“Ah. I forgot you don’t really keep up with this sort of stuff…” she paused as he looked over to y’all. His golden eyes meeting with your eyes, your jaw dropped just a bit. That feeling again, as if someone was watching you.

Why does his presence feel familiar?

You blushed as he smiled at you. You quickly look down and fiddled with your fingers getting a little too anxious.

“He is the number two hero by the way,” Cameron finally finished out. Your eyes widened and you turned to Cameron. She gave you a small smile as you just nodded in understanding. You looked back up at the number two hero and saw how he was bombarded by so many people; yet it’s like he could sense you staring, and he looked your way once more. A small smirk appeared on his face making your face heated once again. You took another sip as you tried to focus in on the conversation your friends were having, but your mind was just focused on him, something about him, his golden eyes, his little smirk, it just edged into your mind.

Two hours had passed, and you were able to engross yourself into the conversation, chatting away about relationships and things of such. A small yawn escaped your mouth and you decided you should probably head home. You stood up to say your goodbyes to everyone and Cameron decided to give you a ride home.

“No excuses, I want to,” Cameron interjected before you could deny. You sighed softly in defeat knowing all too well she would not change her mind. Cameron said her goodbyes to everyone also and y’all left the coffee shop beside each other. Getting in the passenger side of the car the smell of sweet coconut filled your nostrils, Cameron had always kept her car tidy and it somehow always encouraged you to keep apartment clean.

“You know, I would say your anxiety has calmed down. I’m really proud of you,” she comments. A wide smile spreads across your face hearing that comment.

“Really? It’s just recently I’ve felt like I’ve held the group back so much since y’all accommodate to me,” You admit. You felt weight lift off your shoulders as it was finally said. Cameron let out a small hum.

“I can see how you think that, but hun...” She took a small breath, “If we genuinely feel like that than we are not your friends. Your wellbeing is much more important than me going to stupid club to shit faced and have a random hookup,” she finishes. You look down as you fiddled with your fingers.

How do I respond?

“Thanks Cameron, I owe you big time,” You say. Cameron parks on the side right in front of your apartment building.

“You don’t. You literally have been there for me through everything and despite your anxiety you were always able to be calm when I was crying… don’t question your ability in friendship,” Cameron reassured. You gave a small smile and reached over and gave her a huge hug that y’all both needed.

Releasing after a while you gave her a thank you and got out of her car. You watched as she drove off a small smile still portrayed on your face. You turned around walking up the steps to go inside and you stopped. There it was again, the feeling that someone was watching; you couldn’t help yourself you turned to the side and looked around. Your eyes glanced at the bottom of the steps.

A red feather.

You bit your bottom lip as your eyes gleamed with happiness. You happily walked down the steps and picked up the feather. A small chuckle interrupted your thoughts and you jumped in fright. You quickly turned around and met eyes with golden daunting eyes. It was Hawks.

“So, you’re the one who has been picking them up,” He asked.

“I-I’m so sorry, I-I didn’t know…” you stuttered out. You looked down in embarrassment, you heard his footsteps come closer and you could smell his faint cologne.

Do I give it back to him?

“Don’t be, it’s cute,” he admits, Hawks rubs the back of his neck and that is when you noticed blood staining the sleeve of his jacket. A small gasp leaves your mouth and you shyly bring it up.

“Your uhm… your arm… it’s b-bleeding,” You whispered out. He hums in curiosity and looks down at his arm.

“Oh… I didn’t even notice, guess I should probably get that fixed,” Hawks muttered. You didn’t even notice that he was baiting you to even invite him your house, this was exactly going to plan.

“U-uhm, I-I could patch it up for you…” you offered. A smile came across his face.

“You wouldn’t mind?” Hawks asked. You shook your head ‘no’, you walked up the steps as he slowly trailed behind you a malicious smirk playing on his lips. Hawks had every intention of making you his and nothing was going to stop him.

You were so nervous; your palms were sweaty, and your heart was thumping so loudly you thought Hawks could hear. Nervously fiddled with the keys to your apartment and suddenly you felt his chest push against your back as his arms reached across beside you and gently got the keys, “Let me help.”

You released the keys and watched as he got the key in and unlocked your door.  

“T-thank you…” you mumbled shyly. Another chuckle escaped past his lips as he enjoyed just how shy you were.

“Anytime sweetheart.”

You walked in as he followed behind you; relief set in you as you remembered you had cleaned yesterday. “U-uhm…. You can take a seat on the couch, let me go get some items so I can help you just a bit.” Hawks happily obliged as he watched you walk away, his eyes setting on your ass. He could not help but want you, you were just so tempting. He took a seat as he scanned your room, he spotted the jar of feathers and smirked. Hawks was so elated all the times he watched you take it into your apartment.

Your hands were fidgety as ever and you did not what to screw up his wound. You gave yourself a mental prep talk before you walked back with the items in your hands. As you walked back you saw him smile at you, but some glint in his eyes were throwing you off, it did not match his smile whatsoever. You cleared your throat and set the items down on the glass coffee table.

“So, I know you know who I am, but can I get your name?” Hawks lied through his teeth like nothing. He knew so much about you that it wasn’t necessary to ask.

“A-ah… I’m so sorry for not even introducing myself,” you answered and gave him your name.

How could I forget to introduce myself? I’ve been collecting his feathers and I could not even give him my name.

“What a beautiful name.” The way your name rolled off his tongue had you a bit speechless. It made your face heat up in embarrassment. You took a seat beside him as you grabbed the alcohol to clean his wound. You go to start but you realize that his jacket still in the way.

“Can you take off your jacket for me?” You asked. It almost felt so provocative to ask such a question. Hawks smiled and took it off and allowed you to continue, “Sorry, this might burn,” You warn softly. As soon as your fingers grasped his wrist, he went tense. Blood was rushing towards his cock, the urge to take you then and there was so tempting. His mind wandered to the most perverse thoughts he did not realize just how much your fingers were shaking around his wrist.

You were so anxious; you bit your lip hard trying to contain your nerves as you continued to clean his wound. You started wrap his bandage as firm and gently as you could. You sighed softly as you finally finished. You stood up and as soon as your fingers released from your wrist Hawks was back to reality. He wanted more of – no, he NEEDED more of your touch.

“Awe… done so soon?” He joked, but deep down he really was not. He needed a way to just get some of the drug into your system. You let out a small laugh starting to feel somewhat comfortable.

“Sorry, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it was, so a little bandaging will do,” You explain. You were ready to bid him a goodnight, but before you can his eye glance towards your shelf and a smirk spreads across his lips.

“That looks like an interesting story to tell, I want to hear about it.” You gander towards what he was talking about and saw the jar of feathers. Your eyes widen in embarrassment and you were starting to get anxious.

How am I going to explain this, hm? Nice going. He probably thinks you’re obsessed with him.

“It’s not what it looks like, I swear,” you squeak out. Hawks laughs and raises his hands in surrender.

“I’m not accusing of anything kid; I just want to know how you collected so many.” You sigh in relief as your chest continues to pound in your chest giving you a minor headache. You needed something to alleviate just how anxious you were feeling.

“Sure, would you like some tea or anything before I explain?” You offer.  

“I would love some, thanks.” You gave him a small smile and walk over to the kitchen and start heating a small kettle with water. You were trying so hard to keep your nerves down, but it was extremely difficult. Hopefully, with this tea it would calm you down just a bit.

Hawks took in everything that had happened just moments prior to you walking towards the kitchen. Your reactions were everything to him. He wanted so badly to make you his. Make you say the most perverse things.

He wanted to fuck you till you begged him to stop. He wanted tears leaking from your innocent eyes as he showed you no mercy. He wanted his marks, his finger bruises on your skin. He wanted to taint your innocence.

“Here you go,” Your voice cut his thoughts off and he cleared his throat. He grabbed the mug as he needed to calm himself down. “You okay there? You seemed to be lost in thought…” You trailed off. His golden lustful eyes turned to you making you regret asking. He quickly covered it up with a smile.

“Yeah, sorry. My mind wanders sometimes.” You accepted the answer not wanting to question farther. You sat down and took a couple of sips from your tea. The hot liquid soothing your body just a bit. Hawks pointed towards the shelf still wanting the story even though he didn’t need one.

You looked over to the shelf again but tensed up when you noticed something else. The clock.

7:13 pm

You let out a small gasp, “I’m sorry, give me a moment I have to take my medication.” Without letting him reply you quickly make your way over to the medicine cabinet.

How could I forget?!

Hawks watched as you were out of his sight. This was his chance. He quickly grabbed the small little bottle filled with liquid and poured just a little into your tea. He sat back down quickly grabbing his own mug and taking a sip as he smirked to himself. You came back in a panic as you popped the pill and took a sip of your mug to swallow it down.

“Now before we get into the feathers, sorry if I’m overstepping my boundaries, but what is the need for that?” Hawks genuinely questioned.

“Well, I have anxiety, which is pretty obvious, but along anxiety can come depression, and that’s just to help prevent it from getting bad,” you explained. He hummed in understanding; you nervously fiddled with your fingers and decided you needed some of your tea. After taking another drink you go on with your story about the feathers.

“…well somehow they just ended being places where I was at an- “you stopped midway as you started to get extremely dizzy. You saw Hawks as he faked concern slowly standing up. Everything was blurry and you felt your eyelids get heavy. The last thing in your eyesight was Hawks walking over to you.

This was it. This was the time to take you. You were limp in his arms a steady rhythm of your breathing as he looked at you. If he remembered correctly, they said a little could go a long way, so a little drop must be roughly two hours, it would probably take him ten minutes to get to his penthouse. Hawks quickly lifted you up and left your apartment. He needed to move quickly to get you settled in.

Hawks walked out of the building and took you to his place. It was a lavish penthouse. It was a three bedroom with an amazing view of the city. He wanted nothing but the best for you. Flying in from his balcony so he wouldn’t get trampled by fans in the front. Hawks proceeded to walk in, the sound of his boots stepping on the tiled floor being throughout the penthouse. Walking into his room.

The room was painted a dark grey, with minimal picture frames and paintings. A big fan hung from the ceiling as it pushed a breeze evenly throughout the room. The biggest source of light coming from the window that was in the place of the right wall. Hawks gently laid you down on his bed. Looking at you, so cute, so adorable while sleeping. He clicked his tongue debating whether he should handcuff you to the bed or not. Surely you would be too anxious to fight back. Right?

Hawks decided against it and left you to be. He walked over to his bathroom where he took a shower and wanting to get out of his hero costume. A hot shower should relieve some of his stress today. He was so pissed that he couldn’t say hi to you at the coffee shop. It didn’t sit well with him, don’t get him wrong, he loved his fans and the attention, but when the attention wasn’t coming from you, it annoyed him.  

He allowed the hot water to soothe some of his tense muscles as he rinsed and washed himself. Unfortunately, being in the water forced him to take off the bandage you so kindly put on him. Oh, how gentle you are, and how sweet you are. He was going to taint you in every single way possible. Then, of course, you stay with him forever so no one could ever see just how erotic you can become, or your tears. Only him could see that.

Stepping out of the shower he dried himself off and put-on pair of gray sweatpants, not even to bother putting on any boxers; he had every intention of stuffing his cock in your tight little cunt.

His thoughts took over as he walked over back to his bedroom. You lied there so defenseless, maybe a taste wouldn’t hurt. He slowly climbed on top of you; his thighs on both sides of your waist, he watched as your chest went up and down at a steady pace, your lips slightly parted as breaths escaped passed your lips. Just a taste. His feather cut through your shirt revealing your stomach and your cleavage. Hawks groaned softly, he slowly leaned down towards your lips, he stopped right before touching them with his own.

“Just a taste Keigo,” he whispered to himself. His lips ever so softly pushed against your lush soft lips. His tongue sliding in as he wanted to get more of a taste, the throbbing sensation in his cock pushing him to go a little further. His hands touched your sides, gently digging in his fingers as he started kissing your jawline. A pinching feeling causing you to slightly stir; Keigo paused, had he gone too far? He couldn’t stop now, he had you. He glided his lips down to your neck as he gave you open mouth kisses, sucking softly, purposely leaving marks. You stir again as you’re slowly gaining consciousness, immediately taking notice of your awareness he goes lower, unbuttoning your jeans and removing them. He continues as he slides your panties to the side and runs his middle finger in between your folds rubbing your slit and slowly rubbing around your clit.

You suddenly gasp at the feeling, your upper body weakly shooting up. “H-hawks what are you do- “

“Shh... just enjoy it baby…” He cuts you off quickly placing gently kisses along your navel. Your eyes fully open and adjust to your surroundings.

Where am I? What happened?

Tears blur your eyes as you start getting anxious. You were in an unknown setting with someone you barely knew; he was also violating your body.

“I’ve waited so long for this moment,” He whispers, the blurriness of your vision only giving you lines of a golden color as you looked to where the voice was coming from. Slightly darker yellow lines appearing as well. Goosebumps rising on your skin, a breeze continuously hitting against your sternum down to your abdomen some places colder than other as if a small amount of a liquid had been put in those areas.

Your hazy mind finally registering what he had said, “W-waited… long…” You whispered out. Your head gets a sharp quick stab as you tried to process what those words meant. Your thinking got cut off short when you felt it. Something was pushed inside of you. You let out a gasp as your fingers moved down to remove it out of you. It wasn’t big, no, it felt a little thicker than a pencil. No. It was a finger. His finger was inside of you. He curled his finger just a little; a small pathetic noise escaping your lips.

“Nng… No,” The word came out so feeble. Your hands trying to pull his arm away. Keigo continued his small torture on your now slippery cunt as he added another finger in causing you to let out a whimper.

“Baby, you’re so wet for me,” Keigo whispered in your ear. You choked back a small sob not being able to form words. He slowly picked up his pace in fingering you; you could faintly hear the small gushing sounds as he continued. Keigo brought his thumb on your bud rubbing it, curling his fingers as you let out a hitched breath. You body craved for more as you could slowly feel a sensation of needing to release grow in the pit of stomach slowly overcoming the small knots that were in there prior.

“Hawk- “

“Keigo, baby. Say my name…” He quickly interjected. It was more of a demand than anything else. You bit your bottom lip in a slight defiance, you couldn’t give him that satisfaction of hearing you say his name; you turned your head away and squeezed your eyes shut. As if picking up what you were doing, he started fingering faster and rubbing your bud quicker. A moan left your lips as you tried to so hard to conceal it. “C’mon baby, moan my name,” He encouraged.

Small pants left your mouth as you felt yourself clenching tighter around his digits that were going and fast pace. You felt two fingers roughly grabbing your chin and forcing you to turn his way. Leaving your eyes closed as you could feel your wet eyelashes touching the skin below your eyes. You heard a small grunt as the pressure on your chin increased greatly.

“Open your fucking eyes,” He demanded. Swallowing slowly, you obliged to be met with almost brighter golden eyes with a fierce lustful look. “Say it.” You felt his fingers pause where they were still in you.

“K-Kiego.” It was barely a whisper, you felt so exposed in an erotic way as his name fell from your lips while looking at him straight in the eyes. He let out a small hum of approval as he continued torturing your cunt with his thick fingers. Another moan falling passed your lips as the need to release was extremely prominent.

“You’re going to cum? Hm? Are you going to cum all over my fingers?” It came out taunting and teasing as he picked up the pace; he removed his fingers that were placed around your chin and placed the palm of his hand on the bed beside your hip. Your hands that were around his other arm gripped tighter as you tried to pull it out.

“N-no, I’m not,” You said in attempt to sound firm, but it came out more uncertain than anything else.

His other hand suddenly went around throat a little too harshly causing a gasp to escape, “Don’t lie. You’re clenching so tight around my fingers,” He said as he brought his face close to yours.

Why did that make me turned on? What the fuck is wrong with me?!

The attack on your clit became more forceful and you let out a small noise as his hand was still around your throat. You couldn’t hold it, his fingers inside you, his thumb on your clit was doing much more stimulation to your body than you could account for. Your hands released from his arms as they both went on either side of you; your fingers entangling into the duvet on the bed. You arched your back a little as you shamefully released your juices onto his fingers. With deep pants you fell limp against the bed as Keigo released his grip from your neck.

A small chuckle left his lips as he brought out his fingers, “My… my…” He tsked, you looked away in embarrassment. You didn’t want him taunting you even more. “My fingers are drenched with your juices,” Keigo whispered in your ear. You were so humiliated you couldn’t even look. He brought his drenched fingers to your lips and unconsciously let out a small gasp. He pushed his fingers into your mouth as his other hand smushed your cheeks forcing you to look at him.

“Suck.”

He’s not serious… no, he is.

Not wanting to do anymore you obediently sucked tasting your juices, the erotic flavor covering your tastebuds.

“Good girl,” Keigo gently praised. Releasing his grip from your cheeks his fingers tickled your body as he started feeling your stomach and even going underneath your bra to tease your nipples. You wanted this sexual torment to end; what made you more embarrassed is that your body was enjoying this. It craved for more of his touch; you hated it.

Keigo removed his fingers from your mouth and silently moved down to where his face was in front of your still soaking pussy. You saw as one of his feathers ripped the fabric of your panties so he could fully take them off.

You quickly trying to squeeze your thighs together to shield his sight from him. He pushes his hands against your thighs causing them to spread.

“Nuh uh uh… I’m going to enjoy this…” He says with an erotic tone as he looks up at you; he licked his lips before bringing his hot mouth on your folds. You let out a small gasp as your back arched up just enough for his tongue to slip through your folds.

“Keigo…” You mumbled. You weren’t exactly sure why you were saying his name.

Am I wanting him to continue? Or to stop?

Your brain battled itself. Keigo let out a soft hum in response to you saying his name. The vibration of his hum hitting your already sensitive bud causing you to jerk a little.

He enjoyed your reactions, and he was determined to make you cum again before he fucked you senseless. Keigo slowly ran his tongue up and down on your dripping cunt enjoying the taste of you. His eyes glanced up as you squirmed, but he his hands on your thighs to hold you from continuing to do so. Your eyes were closed, and your lips slightly parted letting out barely audible breathy moans. Keigo smiled against your cunt as he continued to torture you.

His tongue teasingly swirled around your bud, his fingers digging into your thighs to hold him from going feral. You let out a small whimper and this encourages him to go faster. He puts his whole mouth on your clit and starts sucking.

“K-Keigo.. Nnngh…” you moaned louder. You felt your body wanting to jerk away, but his fingers digging into your thigh not allowing you to do so. Your clit was sensitive after just having cummed all over his fingers. You let out pants as he didn’t bother to stop, in fact he sucked a little harder causing a whimper to escape. Your vision blurred as your tears were threatening to fall from the sensitivity.

Your fingers flung to his hair and grip his blonde locks as you pulled. Keigo let out a deep groan, once again the vibration of the action tingling your cunt.

“Keigo… Please… I can’t,” You begged desperately as a tear rolled down your left cheek. He momentarily pulled and hummed as if thinking if he should stop or not.

 He looked up at you and was just turned on more of your state: your flushed face, your eyebrows knitted inward, your watery eyes, your lips parted, your visible cleavage heaving up and down with each pant you took.

Keigo smirked at you, “You can and will.”

You let out a pathetic squeak as his mouth went back on your cunt. His tongue now teasing your tight hole. He greedily sucked up all your juices, his tongue poking at your hole wanting more. He glided his tongue back upwards licking your bud. Your weak moans echoing through the room as he continued to suck and lick at your cunt.

Oddly enough another sensation of the need to release was coming despite how sensitive you were. Your fingers could barely stay entangled in his hair as your physical strength (or at least the little strength you had to work with) was leaving you. More tears leaked from your eyes they rolled down your flushed cheeks as the sensitivity was increasing.

Keigo had no way slowed or gone any softer, the sound of smacking and gushing sounds filled your ears as your orgasm was close. Your inner thighs felt sore knowing all too well that Keigo had created finger bruises in those areas with how hard he was digging into your skin.  

You let out a small yell of pleasure as your back arched, bucking your hips into Keigo’s mouth as you released another wave of juices. He sucked every single last drop you’d given him. A couple more tears escaped as you once again slumped back onto the bed. Keigo stood up away from you and off the bed. You rolled over in relief that it was over.

You heard him shuffle around a little bit before you felt the bed slightly dip. Keigo’s hand snaked under your waist as he pulled you up. You weren’t exactly cooperating, but he knew that you most likely wouldn’t. He suddenly brought you all the way up to where your back was against his chest.

You felt it. It twitched against your back. Your eyes went wide and your hands blindly behind you, “NO! Keigo,” you warned. He let out a small chuckle before pushing you down into the bed. He pulled your abdomen up and his fingers pushing you on area forcing you to arch your back.

You felt his tip tease you at your entrance. Your head shot up and before you could say anything, he shushed you.

“I promise I’ll put it in slow,” Keigo promised. He leaned over to where his breath was fanning your earlobe, “I’ll put it in inch by inch, and we’ll count together.” It wasn’t even a suggestion and you knew that.

He pushed just the head of his cock into you as you let out a loud gasp. The length wasn’t what scared you anymore, the girth of his cock was going to stretch you to the max.

“Keigo… your girth... It won’t fit,” You rambled. You did not want to endure this. He ignored you as he pushed another inch in you. Your fingers curled into the duvet. Keigo let out a small hum if approval of how well you’re taking him despite how tight you are.

“I do believe that is two baby… so repeat the number.”

“T-two.” You were breathing hard as you the pain wasn’t exactly subsiding quite yet. Keigo pushed another inch you and your breath hitched, the girth on this man was unbelievable. You momentarily felt bad for anyone that had engaged into sex with Keigo. Your thoughts were interrupted as a stinging sensation was left on your ass; you let out a yelp in surprise.

“C’mon sweetie, you can count. How many is that?” He stated he softly pinched your hip softly.

“Three.” As soon as the word fell from your lips, he pushed another inch in causing a mewl to fall from your lips. You heard him as he took a sharp breath in.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking tight,” Keigo groaned out. You bit your lip refusing to respond to that comment. He slapped your ass again and you let out a whimper.

“Four.” You knew why he spanked you. He wanted you to count and the fact that it didn’t feel like his voice was getting any closer scared you. You unconsciously clenched around his cock and he dug his fingers into your hips. Keigo pushed another inch into you and squeezed your eyes shut.

“K-Keigo. I can’t. Please. You’re too big…” You pleaded him.

He clicked his tongue as he responded, “Baby, you’re barely halfway,” he casually commented.

HALFWAY?!

“H-HALFWAY!? KEIGO THERE IS NO WAY I CAN TAKE ALL OF YOU!” You cried out in desperation.

He is ten fucking inches… How does he expect any person to take his length?

“Sweetie, that’s why I’ve been going slow, so you can adjust. Just try to take two more inches…” He compromised.

You felt grateful that he was at least compromising a little. As you battled whether to agree or not Keigo pushed all the way in and you heard as his waist hit against your ass. You let out a scream as the pain was increased to a maximum. You felt him extremely deep. He suddenly brought you up against his chests as he leaned his head down kissing your neck.

“Oops…” He mumbled not sorry at all. You knew he wasn’t sorry.

“You’re not sorry Keigo, you fucking son of a bi- “His hand slapped over your mouth quickly to shut you up. He held it firmly as he gently rocked against you slowly. The first couple thrusts were gentle to get you adjusted to his size, but then they became rough and hard. You moaned against his hand as he picked up the pace.

“You love it, don’t you? Hm? My cock is covered in your juices which lead me to believe you love being stuffed with my cock,” Keigo comments. Such vulgar words being said out loud caused your face to heat up. His hand uncovers your mouth, and he pushes you down into the mattress with your ass up.

Keigo starts violently thrusting into you at a fast pace. Pitiful mewls fall from your lips as he continues to do so.

“Who do you belong to?” He questioned harshly as he rammed into you again causing a small cry to come out of you. Keigo twisting his hand into your hair and pulling on it causes your head to jolt back.

“Who... do… you… fucking… belong… to…” He gritted out in between pants.

“You.” He continues to impale on you as he wanted to hear his name fall from your lips.

“That’s right baby… Now repeat the whole thing with my name,” Keigo demanded. His hand tugged on your hair harshly as you let out a whimper.

“I belong to you, Keigo,” you mumbled out, tears on the brink of spilling out from your eyes. Keigo hummed as his grip on you didn’t loosen.

“Louder baby, I can’t hear you,” he teased. You swallowed your humiliation as you took a deep breath.

“I belong to you, Keigo.”

“Good girl,” Keigo verbally applauded as he released his grip on your hair. Keigo thrusted in and out at a steady pace. He would go all the way in which caused you to clench around his cock. Keigo leaned over not stopping his pace. Tears fell from your eyes and he groaned as you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

“Your tears turn me on so much more…” Keigo rasped out as he wrapped his hand around throat. He turned your head slightly as he licked off your tears as they continued to flow. Pants escaped his mouth as he picked up his pace, “I’m going to cum in you.”

“NO! You better not,” You quickly interjected. Keigo simply removed his hand from your throat and pushed your face down into the bed in response. His hands gripped around your hips as grunts left his mouth. You continued to moan into the bed as you finally realized that it had become pleasurable. His fingers digging once again into your hips just adding to the pleasure your body was feeling. He rubbed your now swollen bud causing you to cry out and clench around your cock.

Keigo groaned loudly before ramming into you releasing his seed into you. “Fuckkkk…” He rasped out as he thrusted a couple more times before pulling out.

You felt his hot semen come out and drip down your clit as you raised your head panting out. Your fingers were shaking tremendously and so were your legs. You rolled over on to your back and closed your eyes already going into a slumber; unfortunately, Keigo had other plans as his feather tickled your collarbone and suddenly cut the fabric your bra. The flimsy material exposed your nipples to him as the bra became extremely loose.

Your eyes shot open only to be met with his eyes extremely close, he dominated you in a deep kiss as his fingers played with your nipples. Twisting them, pinching them. You whimpered into his mouth as you were already exhausted from the last round. Keigo removed his lips from yours as he went down and took on of your hard, perky nipples into his mouth. Keigo sucked on it, biting down softly causing to jerk. You let out a small whine as your hands weakly pushed on his shoulders.

“Keigo, please. No more. I’m begging you,” Your voice came out so frail. He brought his face up and looked at you.

“God, baby... You’re so fucking gorgeous. Look how defenseless and exhausted you look…” Keigo smirked as he came closer and he lined his cock at your throbbing entrance, “Having you at my mercy, begging me to stop…” you felt his cock twitch and he pushed his head into your cum filled cunt. You let out a small cry, “It’s honestly so sexy… Nothing turns me on more than you begging and crying underneath me,” Keigo finished.

Your blood ran cold, you realized just how deranged and sick minded this number two hero was.

Keigo fully pushed himself in you and a guttural moan leaving his lips, “Look at that, you take my cock so good, baby.” The comment made you tense up, he was suddenly face to face with you and his hand went around your throat again, “I’m going to make you cry, beg, and sob.”

Your hands flew up to his chest, “Keigo, please don’t.” He smirked at you, his hands tightening around your throat causing an involuntary gasp escape.

“Begging already?” Keigo taunted as he started thrusting. At this point you just let whimpers come out, it was no use holding back anymore. “You’re such a good girl for me,” He breathed out in between pants.

This man was praising and degrading you at the same time and it made you wet. Keigo impales a little more harshly as you let out a small cry. He starts using his other hand to rub your clit and you immediately squirm.

“Look at that, still extremely sensitive,” Keigo commented as he released his grip from your throat and placed his hand on the side of you. You desperately wanted him to stop tormenting your clit, at this rate you would cry.

The sound of skin meeting skin, the sloppy gushy rhythm echoed throughout the room as you tried to think of a way to get him to stop.

Maybe I cou-

A harsh bite down on your neck caused you to scream. Liquid stung your eyes as you were forced to focus back on Keigo torturing your clit.

“Ah there we go, you’re back,” Keigo huskily whispered against your neck. Shivers ran down your spine and he continued to softly bite on random parts of your upper body. “There you go baby, focus on my cock filling your cunt up.” He brought himself eye to eye with you, “That’s all you can focus on… Like the little whore you are.”

A sudden flame ignited in you as you brought your hand down in attempt to slap him, but you caught your wrist just in the nick of time.

A low chuckle chilled you to the bone, “I knew you had some fire; it just takes a lot to ignite it,” He stated as if it were a fact. Keigo grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them down with one of his hands. You squirmed beneath him and he gave you a harsh thrust.

“Did it ever occur to you that you were the only one finding the red feathers?” Keigo questioned as he this time softly rocked against your hips. You looked in away in embarrassment, you knew you were the only one finding them, but it didn’t occur to you in a negative way.

“It’s been what?... two months now,” Keigo commented, with his other hand he used his fingers to rub your bud.

“Nnnghh…” Petty little moans escaped from your mouth as he rocked against your hips and rubbed your clit.

“Surely, you’re smarter than that, right?” He questioned in a mocking tone. His golden eyes staring into your own with a sly glint in them. “No… You’re just absolutely fucking naïve and innocent.” The last two words coming out harshly as he mercilessly ravaged your little cunt.

“Fuck… K-Keigo… Ngh...” You blabbered out as a few tears slip out your eyes. Keigo wastes no time in licking them up; He starts making circular motions with two of his fingers on your delicate clit. You clenched around his cock as you felt another orgasm approaching. Your wrists trying to escape a way out of Keigo’s grip.

You had no physical strength, it was gone. He was right. You are naïve.

“Two fucking months,” Keigo gritted out. The smacking of his waist hitting your most inner thighs leaving a faint stinging tingle. Your orgasm was right there, on the edge.

“K-Keigo, I’m going to c-cu- “You moaned out and he rubbed against your bud faster. You let out a loud cry as he continued thrusting through your orgasm.

He wasn’t far behind, in fact, the clenching of your cunt around him as you released was all he needed to cum. He released again all inside of you as you went limp underneath him. Little sweat beads trailing down his forehead as he rocked against you three more times to finish out his high.

Keigo removed himself from you and you weakly sat up, your eyes barely able to stay open.

“P-please no more… I’m begging you; my body can’t do it…” You whispered out. He brought you close and gave you a gentle kiss.

“I know. That’s enough for tonight… I’ll clean you up and then we can get some rest,” Keigo stated. He lovingly trailed his finger down your cheek already seeing your eyelids close.

“You’re mine forever.”

And you were all his forever because of a trail of red feathers.

#yandere!hawks #tw: yandere #yandere #bnha hawks #hawks smut #mha smut #pro hero hawks #hawks x reader #my hero academia hawks #keigo takami #takami keigo smut #tw: dark content #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #tw: drugging #tw: praise #drugs cw #anxiety #female #long reads #x reader #fem reader #k: dacryphilia #Degrading kink #somnophilia

[nitewrighter]

for the teen Titans ficlet thing, I don’t suppose you could do “there was only one bed” for robin and starfire?

*slams fist down on table* STARFIRE IS THE BIG SPOON.

----

"I think you are overacting," Starfire said, her arms folded across her garish tye-dyed nightshirt.

"Overreacting," Robin corrected, adjusting the waistband on his sweats as he stepped out of the bathroom, "And--I'm not. I've slept in lean-tos in the Alaskan hinterland and in literal trees in the Virunga mountains. I can handle a hotel floor."

Starfire scoffed. "You are being ridiculous! It is a bed! There is room for two! Plenty of my people sleep in Tesh'li!"

"Er..." Robin gave her a blank look and Starfire seemed to realize that that word hadn't translated over.

"Uhm..." Starfire's brow furrowed for a few seconds as she struggled for the closest english equivalent, "Tesh'li are like... clusters? P-piles? It is very common for families."

"...Tamaraneans sleep in piles?" Robin's brow crinkled at the mental image.

" Tesh'li. 'Piles' implies gravity is a strong factor in the composition of bodies," said Starfire.

"...right, floating..." Robin said quietly.

"The whole team had a big Tesh'li in that cave when we had that mission in Markovia!" Starfire said, clearly frustrated, "Beast Boy turned into a grizzly bear and Cyborg turned off his cooling systems to share body heat! You and Raven even shared your capes! Why is this worse? Am I worse?"

"It's not worse--I mean obviously you're not worse-- it's just---when it's just two people--" Robin drew in a tense breath through his teeth before slumping his shoulders, defeated. "It's like... an earth... thing."

"I am aware that earth has many things," said Starfire, clearly not satisfied with this answer.

Robin sighed.

"Oh!" Starfire perked up, "It is one of your earth intimacy hangups! Because large portions of your population spent several centuries convincing yourselves that your natural instinct to be close and reproduce were affronts to your creator deities! And that still lingers in your cultural practices!"

"Uh..." Robin didn't really have a response to that.

"I have been reading the Earth histories," said Starfire, a little smugly.

"That's great," said Robin, meekly.

“Well it is not like any of ‘the funny business’ will be happening,” said Starfire, using the finger quotes around the words ‘funny business.’ Robin really regretted letting Beast Boy teach her how to make air quotes with her fingers and that she had only been getting better at figuring out when to use them. “But I will respect your cultural practice and let you sleep on the floor, even though that is dumb and a little gross and you will wake up with the aching back.”

"You sure are a diplomat, huh?" said Robin, drily.

“Mm-hmm!” Starfire nodded.

This was supposed to be a victory in the argument for Robin--since Starfire was recognizing the boundaries he was laying out, but who was he laying them out for if she didn’t care about them? Himself? Alfred had made a point of bringing him up to be ‘proper’ and ‘gentlemanly’ (perhaps to make up for some shortcomings with Bruce) but Robin’s own childhood in the Circus was closer to what Starfire was describing--the performers spent so much time traveling and setting up and breaking down the circus that they had to catch sleep when they could, sleeping in piles, often with little regard for gender or age. He remembered sleeping splayed across his parents’ laps when he was small, or with his cheek smushed against Samson the Strongman’s bicep, or even in the pile of poodles, borzois, and border collies that made up the act of ‘Rivka’s Fabulous Tumbling Dogs.’ Sometimes he would even wake up with white greasepaint smudged in his hair from sleeping on one of the clowns’ shoulders. But now here he was, feeling like a bit of an idiot as Starfire pulled some sheets off the bed and the extra pillow and handed them over to him, before plopping down cross-legged on the bed herself and turning on the hotel room TV. 

“Did you want to watch something?” Starfire glanced at him.

“I’m fine with whatever you want to watch,” Robin shrugged.

Robin took the uncomfortable wooden chair next to the too-small hotel table where their mostly-eaten one-half pepperoni one half pineapple-anchovy pizza sat. Starfire quickly flicked through the channels until reaching a public access channel where a reindeer bellowed on the screen.

“The noble caribou,” the narrator spoke, “A proud fixture of the tundras of the north that have roamed these grass-covered polar deserts for thousands of years.”

Robin gave a glance over to Starfire who was lying on her stomach on the bed and kicking her feet back and forth, her chin in her hands like any preppy teenaged earth girl watching her favorite low-budget cringeworthy high school drama starring 29-year-olds.

“But this is not a story of the caribou, no we will focus on a friend who has been here even longer,” the camera panned down to a caribou gnawing some knotty, netted-looking substance from the ground, “That industrious, unsung hero: The lichen. This is... Life of Lichen.” 

“What happened to ‘World of Fungus?’” Robin tilted his head.

“You remembered?” Starfire perked up.

“I mean it’s your favorite,” Robin shrugged, “Or I guess this is your new favorite?”

“Life of Lichen is the sequel!” Starfire said excitedly, “Technically it is the third sequel. The first was ‘Our Friend the Algae,’ the second was, ‘World of Fungus’ and now it is ‘Life of Lichen!’ Because you need both algae and fungus to create it,” She paused a bit, “I can... change it if you prefer something else though.”

“Nah I kind of like it. It’s calming,” said Robin, “I used to only research stuff for like... missions and investigations... it’s nice to just... be interested in things.” He craned in his seat a little to see better.

“There is room,” said Starfire, scooting herself over, “You can see better here.”

Robin paused for a few seconds, then got up and took a seat on the bed, propping some pillows up against the headboard for himself to lean against. 

“While lichen bears superficial similarity to moss, there are many differences, the first starting with composition. Mosses, of course, are plants, while lichens are composite organisms, there are over 20,000 known species...” The documentary narrator continued talking as the camera panned across a rainbow of lichens on the side of a rock and Robin found his eyelids drooping, 

He could have sworn he only rested his eyes for a few minutes when he suddenly startled awake. Most of the hotel room lights were off, save for the bedside lamp, the credits were running on the TV and the previews were next week’s episode were promising to delve into the exciting world of lichens growing on trees, as opposed to this episode which mainly featured lichens growing on rocks.

“Starfire?” Robin said, his voice hoarse with sleepiness.

“Mm?” Starfire was already turning around and fluffing up her pillow, the faint green glow of her eyes creating a low spooky light in the room.

“The floor’s kinda gross,” said Robin.

“The floor is indeed gross,” said Starfire.

“Is it cool if--”

“It is very cool,” said Starfire. She reached and got the pillow he had on the floor next to the bed and passed it over to him.

“Alright,” Robin got under the sheets. Maybe he would have found more energy to be flustered about the action if he hadn’t been lulled by an hour of a husky British accent talking about lichens. Starfire seemed to be respecting his ‘earth intimacy hangups’ and slept on her side with her back to him.

“G’night,” said Robin.

“Sleep well,” Starfire’s voice was half muffled into her pillow as he turned off the bedside lamp.

It didn’t take too long for Starfire’s breathing to go slow and rhythmic, but Robin was still staring at the ceiling. 

God, I made that weird, he thought, Why did I have to make such a big deal about sleeping on the floor? I mean I literally was repeatedly saying it’s not a big deal and it wasn’t but now it’s a whole thing. What if she thinks I don’t like her? What if she knows I like her but she’s really pushing the alien thing so we don’t have to address it? No that’s awful, she wouldn’t do that--earth means too much to her to do that. That was shitty of me to think. ‘Earth Intimacy hangups.’ I don’t have earth intimacy hangups. I should probably let her know that it’s probably not cool to tell people they have ‘earth intimacy hangups’ right to their face. I’m cool with it though. Because I don’t make big deals of things. I mean it wouldn’t be a big deal to sleep on the floor. Oh god I’m obsessing over this. 

He turned on his side so that he was facing her back in the bed. He stared at her, watching her shoulders slowly shift with her breath. He tried to match the pace of his breath to hers. 

Tesh’li, huh? he thought, and he felt his eyelids get heavy. He imagined a distant world with high-ceilinged palaces, and a family sleeping in a pile on a heap of luxurious cushions and circular futons, one of their two daughters hovering upside-down just above them. His eyelids slowly slid shut, Doesn’t sound so bad...

He woke up at 2 in the morning drowning in hair.

Starfire was hovering about a half foot off the bed, half the blankets hanging off of her, still in that same ‘lying on her side’ position, though now angled so that the majority of her hair was piled directly on Robin’s face. Robin sputtered quietly, pushing hair out of his eyes and mouth and flinching hard as he realized Starfire was floating.

“Star-pft-fire?” he whispered hoarsely, still pushing hair from his face.

“Robinnn... Kan’ah peq lor-faon eshdarm...” Starfire murmured in Tamaranean.

“...What?” Robin said blankly before she dropped back down onto the bed with a bounce and a loud creak of mattress springs, still dead asleep. A cat-like snore escaped her as she readjusted herself in the blankets. Robin breathed in a steadying breath, coming to terms with what he had just seen and how it was all perfectly normal what with Starfire being an alien. Then he repeated that last mental sentence back to himself and wondered how long ago this work had claimed his sanity like it had claimed Bruce’s. He didn’t have long to dwell on that thought, however, as Starfire turned over in her sleep, wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him close, her alien strength moving him with the same ease as she might grab a stuffed animal.

“Star?” Robin whispered again as her arm snaked over his chest. He felt her body pressing into him from behind. His face was burning. 

“Hmm... Wurul tai horqarr, Silkie...” she mumbled, squeezing Robin close.

“Er.. Star--I’m not--Ggk!” Robin winced a little at the tight squeeze, wondering for a few seconds if he was going to get a broken rib,  but then Starfire seemed to nuzzle her cheek against his hair and her grip relaxed with a slight sigh.

Her hair was still enveloping him in a river of orange. She was warm--warmer than any human he could remember, and being in her arms felt like that almost- too-warm that’s perfect for dozing off while reading on summer afternoons. She smelled like ozone, and Lapsang-Souchong tea, and fresh-cut citrus. He wondered how he smelled to her. If he smelled like a memory of another planet. He listened to her breathing for a few minutes longer, as the warmth of her sank into him. He felt the exhaustion he always felt like he was barely outrunning catch up to him again, but here he was willing to let it overtake him.

Maybe I should wake her up? I mean... alien strength... don’t want to get crushed if she has a weird dream or something. Probably the smart thing to do, he thought.

“Zontar-ha peq lor-yuur’vyn...”  Starfire murmured in her sleep and readjusted herself against him again, her body curving around him. 

Eh. There are worse ways to go, he thought as he closed his eyes.

#dickkory #dc #teen titans #I loved hearing Kory speak Tamaranean in the show--it sounded almost klingon? In a good way #...ironically I'm talking about the live-action trainwreck and not the 03 show there #anyway cuddling: we should all do more of it #robstar

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing x.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 8, 711

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

so here is the mini monster chap !! i know I said this was going to be a drabble series but I clearly got carried away LOL

anyways, no spoilers for this chap but I can say it's one of my favs that I've written and I think we see oc getting the comfort that she deserves (and needs!)

and also !! this is my first time updating a series on tumblr and it feels *exciting* hehe, I hope you enjoy this chapter c:

let me know your thoughts in my asks!! i'd love to hear what you think so far :3

all the love and I hope you're having a great

day/night/evening/afternoon wherever you are ❤️

“Open up!”

The only person that would opt to yell to get your attention than ring on your doorbell like a normal person would be Yena. And it helped that you immediately recognised her voice from the first syllable she uttered. That and you were currently moping in your living room with lactose-free ice cream, courtesy of Jimin that dropped it off a day ago when he heard that you were ‘sick’. Even if you hadn’t seen him face-to-face, you remember him softly hoping you’d get better.

You don’t know why she’s at your door, but you’re already on your feet to get her when you hear her begin to mutter curses directed at you behind the thin wood of your entrance.

“I can hear you!” You call.

“Well bitch then open the damn door!” She snaps.

You roll your eyes, and so far with the number of times you’ve hung out with her, it’s safe to say that the two of you were comfortable. You never knew how fun having a girl best friend was until you met Yena, and sure it’s only been a little under two weeks since you’ve gotten to know her through various messages and FaceTimes, but you feel like she’s your friend soulmate.

And when you expressed that to her over a FaceTime call a few nights back, you remember her gagging all while you flush and attempt to take it back. You know her candidly calling you bitch rather than your name was her saying she felt the same.

You pull the door open as she stands there with her eyes narrowed into slits, eyeing you up and down before she scrunches her nose.

“There’s a thing called a shower that you should look into. You look like a rundown version of long-haired Noah Beck.” She grimaces when she eyes you up and down.

You scowl. “You did not just compare me to him.”

She clicks her tongue before she shoves you aside by shoving a plastic bag of the takeout food into your arms and steps into your apartment.

Yena ignores the glare you shoot at the back of her neck when she looks around your living room, scrunching her nose like she was here to inspect your room than pay you a visit.

“Did someone die in here or was that just your will to live?”

You scoff. “Wow. Drag me.”

She waves you off before plopping onto your couch while you sigh, immediately heading to the kitchen to prep the food she brought over.

“For a moment I thought you were dead.” She confesses casually.

When you return with bowls and plates, with the cutlery to match—you give her a dry look before you’re taking your seat on the floor; attempting to hide your half-eaten tub of ice cream, which Yena immediately spots.

“So your first instinct was to yell at my door in hopes that I wasn’t actually dead?” You ask dryly.

She picks up your ice cream and grimaces at it, silently judging you for the flavour before she gives you a shrug.

“Yeah. I was hoping that your spirit would confer.”

You snort. “And the food?”

“A peace offering.” She tells you like it’s obvious.

You sigh, you loved Yena—you really did. She was all over the place and random, but it was a refreshing difference that you needed in your life from the usual law and order you often opted for.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your concern,” You tell her, pulling out a container to see your favourite lemon chicken as you eye her suspiciously. “But what brings you here? I told you I was sick.”

Yena scoffs. “And sick you are, bitch. What kind of sick person devours ice cream? Sure, you look the part but your diet says otherwise. Don’t think I didn’t see the empty packet of snickers in the trash.”

You scowl.

“I recovered yesterday.” You lie, taking a bite out of the chicken.

Yena rolls her eyes and you know she doesn’t believe you. She leans into your couch while she watches you eat, “Namjoon texted me that you may need some company.” At that, you choke.

Her eyes widen as you hit at your chest to get the food to go down, eyes still wide at her revelation.

“Why would he do that?” You cry.

“Girl, I know you’re not trying to deflect—you’re literally about to choke and die.”

You glare at her. “I’m fine.” You cough for good measure, then you’re levelling another serious gaze at her.

“I’m fine.” You reiterate with an emphasis on your state even though you were anything but. “I don’t know why the hell he thinks I need company.” You mutter under your breath.

At this, Yena’s face softens as she leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees while you avoid her gaze; idly poking at your food.

“I don’t know either, and you don’t need to tell me anything.” She says softly. “That’s all I’m here for. To be your company, whether you need it or not.”

You don’t know how much Namjoon told her over a text message, but you don’t think it’s much. Purely because he didn’t seem like a snitch and he was too respectful to ever let other people into the business that wasn’t his own. Even at the thought, you want to groan because you essentially lured him into thinking it was okay for him to kiss you while you were … you don’t even know what the fuck was happening anymore.

“I—” You say weakly, and all Yena does is offer you a comforting smile.

For some reason, the fact that she’s here right in front of you after you spent the day crying and feeling like your heart has been repeatedly stomped over with the addition of your rumination—it feels nice to have someone with you, even if it’s just their presence.

But the way she doesn’t look at you and expects something out of your conversation makes you feel even more overwhelmed, and that’s probably why the dam breaks.

Yena’s eyes widen as she immediately darts out to wrap her arms around you when you end up in violent sobs. You don’t know why you’re crying but you are, and you’re tired of hiding things, your feelings and your intent just to pretend like things were okay.

“It’s okay.” She strokes your hair and it feels warm, like a mother comforting a crying baby and you realise that this is what friends should feel like.

“N-no it’s n-not!” You cry into her shirt and it’s messy, but she doesn’t seem like she minds. Especially when she supports your pliable frame.

“You wanna talk about it?” She asks softly, giving you a kind smile.

You sniffle, staring forward as you feel your eyes swell with the escalation of your tears.

“I don’t know.” You whisper.

She hums, “It’s okay not to know. You don’t need to know everything.”

“I’m just so tired, Yena.” You tell her in a hushed breath.

“Life is difficult.” She admits. “It’s natural to be tired.”

You’re thankful to hear that she doesn’t comfort you with blind optimism. She’s real and she acknowledges how shitty things may be, and frankly, you didn’t need another wannabe altruist telling you that things will get better. You knew that, everyone did. But when you’re at rock bottom and all you see is darkness, you’re not looking for better. You’re looking for a reason to continue.

“Can I say something?” She asks. The way she looks at you is soft and open, and non-judgemental. You feel safe.

You nod your head, teary eyes staring up at her.

“You’re not responsible for anyone’s feelings except your own.” She looks at you so seriously that you nearly feel your breath escape. “There are things that you can and cannot control—and the latter usually falls under the people around you.”

You suck in a breath, and you wonder how she’s so spot on without ever touching on the true context.

“Namjoon texted me but I didn’t come here because he asked me to. It’s because you deserve to have someone be around you when you’re clearly not okay.”

“I’m—”

“You’re not.” She blinks, and you almost pout at her firm tone. “And that’s okay. I don’t need to know what happened to justify how you feel. You could’ve stubbed your toe and feel like absolute shit and I have absolutely no right to judge you on how or when you feel emotions.”

You wonder where she’s been your entire life and why she was only in your life now.

“But the thing is,” She sighs. “You don’t always have to choose between something or the other. Sometimes you need to choose yourself.”

You stare up at her in awe because Yena was cool in general, her laidback and unbending personality was mainly what drew you to her because you’d argue you were the opposite. Even if Jungkook’s words stung, you could take it at face value and accept that it was true.

You were uptight and you were a bit of a prude, and for the longest time, you always resented that aspect of you. But you realised with Yena, she had traits that were resented in a woman as well. And you realise that you’d never be perceived the way you want unless you perceive yourself in a positive light first.

So when she speaks to you so sternly, yet with a tone of care as she picks apart her words so carefully—you realise what you have to do.

“I think I like Jungkook.”

Yena pauses for a brief second, but you don’t see any judgement in her face. Just confusion, a warranted emotion you don’t blame her for having.

“I figured as much.”

Your eyes widened, “How—?”

It’s almost like a repeat of the first night at the football game when you befriended each other, but she only shoots you a gentle smile.

“Call it a woman’s intuition.”

You blink, fiddling with your fingers before you stare up at her, continuing your drawls.

“And we kissed.”

At this, Yena cocks an eyebrow up, “Was this recent?”

You fiddle with your thumbs before you sigh and push yourself up.

“Thing is …” You mumble, “I’m not like that.”

You don’t answer her question because you can’t think of a proper enough response to tell her that yeah—you did kiss him, amongst other things that you foolishly allowed yourself to indulge in. You knew Yena wasn’t judgemental but you also knew that you couldn’t retrieve your words the moment they left your mouth. It was your own judgement that stopped you from saying the things you really wanted and it sucked, royally. Because you could tell that Yena wasn’t out here to crucify you for being … liberated. She just wanted to be there for you.

Yena scrunches her eyebrows in confusion as she allows your words to settle, pondering a response.

She settles for a huff, “Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t … do things like that.” You say softly. “I’m shy and quiet. I’m not active in the social sphere and I only have three friends that I can reach out to if I wanna hang out. But even then, I don’t … I don’t like partying, or drinking, or loud spaces. I’m awkward and horrible at social interaction let alone being able to navigate my romantic feelings. And … I felt so bad about it.”

Yena’s eyes soften, but you can’t look at her just yet. Not when this is the first time you’ve ever laid yourself vulnerable, emotionally that is, to someone that wasn’t just the confines of your thoughts.

“I always wondered what it’d like to be confident, to be liked on campus and not just be known as the smart girl.” You whisper. “My entire personality was built around my achievements and I didn’t know what else to do. What if … what if I peak here and fail after?” Your eyes are wide in despair, and you feel your lips quiver when you speak.

“You’ll never know.” Yena reminds you gently. “You won’t know who likes you or what people say about you—but you’re going to be hearing your own thoughts 24/7 and that’s what kicks you down or drives you further.”

You sigh, nodding your head.

“It’s just … Jungkook and I were close. We grew up together even if he’s younger than me. But we just got along well and he … he saw me. He used to comfort me whenever I’d tell him how pressuring it got and—I feel so stupid because he probably says that to everyone and I fell for it.” You chuckle with no emotion, staring at the stray thread poking outside of your couch pillow.

“Have you spoken to him about your feelings?” She asks softly.

Immediately, you scoff and the sour emotion peaks through again.

“He’s made it clear what he wants to hear from me.” You mutter.

Yena purses her lips before resting her hands gently on your shoulder.

“You’re not answering my question, ______.” She chides gently.

You nibble on your bottom lip and shake your head. That earns a sigh from her as she wraps her arms around you once again, resting her chin on your shoulder as you allow yourself to feel the comfort of her warmth.

“He kissed me first and we did things together.” Your lips quiver when you recall the memories, “A-And he’s with Jennie. I just …” You flutter your eyes shut, “I don’t want to say that I’m the other girl but I feel a lot like a second option and it sucks.”

Yena doesn’t ask, and she doesn’t need to. She doesn’t need to justify why you felt the way you did, so she holds you tighter.

“Babe.” She gently turns you to look at her with both hands resting on your shoulders. “Did you talk to him? Properly? Do you really know if he’s with her?”

“I think them kissing proves enough to me.” You snap, and you don’t know why you’re being so hostile, especially to Yena.

She purses her lips, “You kissed him and you aren’t together.”

You wince and she shoots you an apologetic look. She sighs before reaching out to squeeze your hand, all while you stare at the ground to level out your emotions.

“I’m not saying that you can’t feel the way you do. But I’m offering objectivity here. Men are … they’re blunt creatures and that’s the biggest difference between men and women.” You furrow your eyebrows as she takes a deep breath before she continues. “And the idea that we’re equal? No, we’re not. I’m not talking about our systemic positions in society but on an emotional level. Men take things surface value and work with it, they don’t stop to think about the layers of feelings that go into interpersonal relationships with friends, family or lovers. Women? We go big or we go home. All we see is the big picture and sometimes the little details get lost in translation. This isn’t me justifying Jungkook playing home with you or Jennie at the same time, but offering you a perspective that may be hard for you to see because you aren’t him.”

It was true, and you hated yourself for being aware but not putting action based on your own thoughts. Yena only reaffirmed the idea that you overthought every single interaction and maybe that was why you were the one that was hurting.

That, or you and Jungkook had horrible communication problems that neither of you was ready to face just yet. But how could you? When the two of you were on two different wavelengths and you were trying to be just enough for him while he was jumping off pedestals to see you.

It didn’t feel nice, and it sucked because he was the same person that comforted you and broke you all at once.

“I’m scared.” You whisper.

She smiles at you gently, patting your head gently as you peer up at her with tears between your lashes.

“And that’s okay.” She reassures you with a soft voice, “The only thing scarier than being scared is not feeling at all.”

Before you go to where your heart tells you to—your mind is the only thing that keeps you rooted in some form of rationale. That’s probably why you’re outside of Namjoon’s dorm. You don’t think you’ve ever paid his place a visit despite him telling you his address on multiple occasions, usually opting to hang out in public yet serene places where you were able to get a breather.

Your feet feel heavy and your fist is raised, but it barely moves. Especially when you’re just eyeing his door like a deer caught in headlights. You’ve rehearsed the apology on your tongue a million times, even if you don’t really know what you’re apologising for. But you feel like you must, particularly because you’ve senselessly let him see all of the feelings that you were trying to suppress in hopes of retaining the same ones he had for you.

You take a deep breath and deliver the first knock, the vibrations making your arm feel weak.

But you’re tired of always surrendering to bigger and more frightening things that you could understand. So you purse your lips and play the waiting game.

It seems like a long twenty minutes that you wait, but in reality, it’s only two when the door swings open. You brace yourself to see Namjoon, apology already sitting on your tongue.

You should’ve dropped a text, you knew that. But you decided against it because you haven’t spoken to Namjoon since what happened a few days ago. Neither of you speaking about the kiss or the way your eyes glistened when you saw Jungkook and Jennie together.

“____?” He asks confusedly.

You give him a meek smile, “Hi. Can I come in?”

He blinks at you, and you notice he still has his glasses that he usually forgoes during the times you’ve hung out—and you feel a little guilty for catching him at a bad time.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sure.”

Namjoon steps aside and you’re welcomed into the space of his living room. The first thing you notice is the interior, and how … Namjoon it was. It’s both cluttered and neat, the palette of his furniture matching the overall vibe he emanated. His furniture is mostly wood, light sandalwood that makes it feel all the homier.

And you tell him such, “You have a very homey place.”

Namjoon turns his head to look at you right before he plops himself back onto his couch where you see the bits and pieces of paper scrambled across the floor and the couch. Even then, he was able to look so welcoming even though you reckon he has a right to be hostile—for a reason you came here to apologise for.

“Thank you.” He flushes, patting a spot in front of him for you to take your seat.

When you settle, the atmosphere turns strained when you mull over your words so that you wouldn’t stumble over them. You practised, you did—about a hundred times before you came here and you thought you were ready to apologise and put things behind you but it’s proven difficult when all he does is look at you in earnest.

“Not that I—uh—mind,” He mumbles, “But is there a reason why you’re here?”

You blink at him as you ignore the quiver in your heart.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt.

“_____ why are you—”

“You didn’t deserve what happened the other day.” You interject, voice soft but unwavering when you force yourself to look at him as his eyes widen.

“I wasn’t the one that saw something I shouldn’t have.” He reminds you with a frown.

You swallow, “I kissed you. And you …” It wasn’t helping that he was looking at you so gently as he awaits your continuation. “You didn’t need to save me back then, Namjoon.” You end in a whisper.

Namjoon reaches out to grab your shoulder, touch gentle as he searches for your eyes.

“I didn’t save you …” He tells you tenderly.

“It’s not just that!” You exasperate while you throw your hands up in the air. “I-it’s everything … from the way you treat me and the way you look at me. You didn’t need to do any of that and you even—” You trail off, fluttering your eyes shut. “—what did you say to Jungkook right before we left?”

Namjoon’s eyes enlarge as his grip becomes tense against your shoulder. You can almost see the way his mind kicks into gear as he thinks of a response.

“That—I—does it matter?” He huffs.

Your eyes soften, “Namjoon.” You force yourself to look at him even if now he was the one that tries to avoid your gaze. “What did you say?”

Namjoon tightens his lips before he sighs deeply, head dropping forward before he looks at you.

“I told him to be honest.” He says softly.

You furrow your eyebrows, “To be honest …?”

“I know you have feelings for him.”

Your face blanches when Namjoon basically exposes you. It’s one thing for you to be self-aware of your complicated feelings towards the other boy. But when someone else points it out, especially when it’s Namjoon—the boy who’s been nothing but kind and patient with you while you’re too busy being caught up in your emotions—it’s like a slap across your face.

“I-I don’t—”

“You don’t need to lie to save my face, ______.” He chuckles dryly, eyes darting away as he tries to neutralise his expression. You wince at the spite he establishes, but you know deep down that Namjoon isn’t angry at you. No, he was far too understanding to be. Disappointed? Frustrated? Sure, but never angry,

The silence answers for you when you look away this time, eyebrows scrunched as you attempt to navigate the conversation. You came here to apologise, and to be honest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“Don’t.” He takes a deep breath as you flinch. “Don’t … apologise.” He sighs.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, Namjoon.” You murmur apologetically.

He shoots you a half-hearted chuckle, “You didn’t do anything. Really.”

“But I did, Namjoon. I kissed you back.” You frown.

“That doesn’t imply anything. I kissed you, and you reciprocated. We all kiss someone and not mean anything by it.”

You flinch, and you’re familiar with that more than anyone else. The reminder only stings because it makes you realise that you were not much different from Jungkook, the same person you’ve claimed to have messed with you and fucked you over.

“I’m—”

“Please don’t apologise anymore.” He says. “I already feel like shit.”

You smile sadly at him, “How do you manage to be so nice even when other’s do you wrong?”

Namjoon sighs, then he grabs both your hands in his. “You didn’t wrong me, _____. It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same way I do.”

“How did you …” You trail off.

“How did I know you had feelings for Jungkook?” He chuckles. “The same way he knew I had feelings for you.”

You purse your lips, eyes dropping to your lap. “It’s not that simple, Namjoon …” You say softly.

Namjoon smiles at you gently, “Is it?” He gently nudges your knee with his so that you’d look at him. “Life is simple. It’s not easy. But it’s simple.”

You scoff even if a small smile teases your lips, “You really are a philosophy major, aren’t you?”

The two of you grin in tandem before he purses his lips, possible mulling over something before he faces you.

“The two of you are close so … why beat around the bush?”

Your eyes flutter shut, shaking your head. “Like I said, it’s really not that simple.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s not to mock or taunt you. Namjoon simply sees a naive, yet an intelligent girl who doesn’t see what’s right in front of her.

“Remember what I said? I’m a simple guy.” He reminds you, lips in a grin. “Try me.”

You snort, but you’re still nervous. You still remember that he has feelings for you, so you’re hesitant. And he immediately recognises the guilt-ridden expression that you mar.

Namjoon shoots you a stern glare, “Don’t overthink it.”

You sigh.

“Jungkook and I …” You start, fiddling with your thumbs. “We grew up together.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and shoots you another one of his bland stares. “I know the history. I just want to know why?”

You furrow your brows, “Why?”

“Why the two of you insist on being so emotionally constipated.”

You gape at his audacity, and you’re glad the atmosphere isn’t as tense because Namjoon simply snickers at your reaction.

“I am not—!”

He waves you off, “Really?” He adds dryly.

You purse your lips and relent, even if you didn’t want to agree with him—you knew that he was … right. To a certain extent.

“We kissed.” You blurt.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “That’s not surprising.”

You shoot him a dry look before he raises his hands in defence.

“He was my first kiss.”

At this, Namjoon’s widen.

“When you were in high school?” He pries.

You flush, embarrassed that you had to tell him otherwise.

“Two months ago.” You mutter.

Namjoon splutters, and you can’t help but glare at him when he quite literally chokes on his spit. You know you caught him off guard, but him rubbing salt in the wound that’s relatively fresh makes you scowl.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. Then he repeats, “Oh.”

You scoff, “Yeah. Oh.”

“Then … what happened?” You know he’s treading carefully with you when he asks you his question softly.

You purse your lips, and you recall every single moment you’ve shared with him. From giggles to hushed kisses, to intimate touches and sweat-stained sheets that have you gasping for air. You remember it all, and they meant … they meant the world to you, but just a speck in his memory.

“Things escalated and we … did stuff together.” You wince.

Namjoon nods in understanding, he gestures his hands around, “Like—”

“I’m a virgin.”

Namjoon blinks.

“And for the longest time, I felt embarrassed about it.”

“Oh.”

“I struggled to find my footing between being sexually liberated and being a woman because for the longest time I thought those two were mutually exclusive. For me, at least.” You say softly.

Namjoon only stares at you.

“And I always wanted validation from someone else to tell me that what I was doing was the right thing to do. Or the supposed thing to do. Never what I really wanted to do.”

“Not that I’m uncomfortable but … why are you letting me in on this?” Namjoon asks with a raised brow.

“Because I want to do something for myself for once.” You whisper.

“Okay …?”

“Why do you like me? Even if I’m … boring and not as sexy as other women?”

You sound pathetic, and the first person you find yourself comparing yourself to is Jennie—a beautiful, confident woman who looked so assured in herself.

“You’re not—”

You groan.

“Namjoon.”

“Okay.” He sighs. “If you’re asking me if I care that you’re a virgin, then no. I really don’t. Because frankly, that concept to me is false and problematic. Whether or not you’ve had sex or not isn’t any of my business.”

You duck your head.

“And I like you because you’re interesting. You’re funny and you’re assured in your own way. You don’t need to be a certain standard of pretty or sexy or whatever for me to like you. I like you because of the time we’ve spent together and that I’ve gotten to know you. The real you and not the person I admired from afar but the girl who throws in jokes out of nowhere but fits so well with the situation. The girl who’s willing to spend three extra hours of her time to help with content that wasn’t prescribed to her. I like you because I’d like to think I’ve grown to understand who you are.”

Namjoon says all of those things while staring at you straight in the face and you feel compelled to cry. Because no one has ever been so honest with you and you hate that your heart can’t reciprocate what should be an easy feeling that comes naturally.

“Fuck.”

His eyes widen.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He coos, a hand petting your hair gently as you sniffle.

“It’s not, Namjoon. Everything sucks because everything is so complicated. Why can’t I just have feelings for you instead?”

It’s selfish, and Namjoon winces. But you’re so overwhelmed that you miss it, and Namjoon is too nice to point his own feelings out.

“You don’t pick and choose your battles, _____.” He murmurs softly.

“That’s not what my mom told me.” You whimper.

He chuckles, “Yeah. Most people like to believe that because it makes them think that they have a choice over the bad things that happen in their lives. But in reality? They don’t. No one decides what happens to them. You pick and choose how you react to things. How you deal with situations and what you make out of those situations is what you can choose to do. You don’t like me, and that’s fine. You don’t have to just because I’m nice to you, _____. Being nice is the absolute bare minimum and something that everyone should feel and do.”

Your face crumbles, “Why are you so wise?”

Namjoon smiles, “I’m not. It’s called offering a different perspective. Just because I see things one way doesn’t make me any better than you who sees things in another. That’s why we meet different types of people throughout our lives. The good, the bad, the in-between. There’s always something people offer to us in the midst of chaos.”

You sigh.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon.”

He pats your head, “I said don’t apologise.”

“No, but I want to. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and you picked up a shitty situation to be in when Jungkook and Jennie were at the library. Even right after I kissed you. That was … a horrible thing to do. I shouldn’t have done that just because—just because I was confused … you don’t deserve that.”

He doesn’t look angry, and that’s even worst because you want him to react, to call you a bitch and say that you were a horrible person.

“I don’t.” He shrugs while you wince. “But a lot of the times we don’t deserve a lot of things that we get. And that’s okay. You did what you thought was justified then, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. But you’re hurting too, and you’re confused—that’s what drove you to do the things that you did, and even here. That’s why you’re apologising to me, right? Because you’re not as confused anymore?”

You shake your head.

“I am, I’m still so confused.” You whisper.

“Then let me offer you another perspective.”

You look up to him with big eyes as he smiles at you gently.

“You have feelings for Jungkook.” You immediately flinch, even if he didn’t hit you. But Namjoon continues. “You’re trying to keep the picture as simple as you can even if it hurts you in the process. But

“You don’t understand, Namjoon … we … did things … that I’m not proud off …”

“You don’t have to—”

“He was my first kiss. My first … sexual experience. Even if it was just … third base,” You cringe, but Namjoon isn’t judging you at all. “A-and that’s all I was to him. An experience.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do I, Namjoon?” You say softly. “He said things to me that were so hurtful. And a stupid part of me forgives him but it still hurts every time I think about it and when I see him with Jennie.”

You whisper the words Jungkook’s said to you, and for the first time, you see Namjoon’s jaw harden. The most emotion that wasn’t rationale you’ve seen in Namjoon ever since you first arrived.

“I know it hurts.” He murmurs, holding you close. “And I really don’t want it to seem like I’m justifying his words … but would you want to hear me out?”

You purse your lips and nod nevertheless.

“Jungkook isn’t a bad person.” You blink, you never thought he was. “I know you don’t think he is but you want to. Because of the things he’s said to you because why would a good person say those kinds of things, right? But the world isn’t black and white like that. There’s a grey area where 99% of the population falls into because we operate on emotion and sometimes we say things that we may feel but not necessarily believe in.”

“Jungkook … he’s still young. And I know we’re in college and stuff but he’s still three years younger than I am and two years younger than you. He’s spoken to me about how hard it was to adjust to a high school life where you, Jimin and Tae weren’t a part of. And I don’t know about you but if the only friends I’ve ever known suddenly left because they had to … I wouldn’t know what to do either. He was at a point in his life where his environment played a huge part in the values and internalised beliefs he had.”

You look away as you reflect on his words, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“He mixed around with different groups of people, and I hate this saying but it’s still a common belief to many—especially people his age, almost out of high school. But the ‘boys will be boys’ mentality is more than just misogyny and sexism, but a culture where it feeds off complacency and peer pressure. Jungkook suddenly had to shift from three, good friends who were progressive and influential in an objectively good way to people he was obliged to like because they were his peers.”

You gape at him, purely because you knew that Namjoon was smart and wise but his introspection leaves you breathless and enlightened.

“But that doesn’t change the core of Jungkook,” Namjoon says. “He’s still Jungkook. He doesn’t know how to ask for things that he wants without feeling like he’s betraying his masculinity. And again, I’m not justifying his actions because he’s a grown man too. But he’s lost, and the only thing he knows to uphold this sense of masculinity is by being sexually liberated. Even if he conflates his own emotions with his endeavours.”

“I … I don’t even know what to say Namjoon.” You murmur, eyes looking up through your lashes.

“You don’t need to say anything. I just want you to be honest to yourself, not anyone else. But yourself.” He tells you, carding a gentle hand over your head.

You fiddle with your thumbs.

“What do you want?”

Despite you confiding two different people, you find yourself at a convenience store at 12AM, scarfing down ramen from a cup noodle because your mind was a funny place when it was muddled with a hundred different thoughts. You knew sleep wasn’t an option for you either, and you were hungry. But somehow you didn’t have anything back in your apartment that screamed ‘I’m in a crisis’ enough for you to eat.

Which is why you’re here, while the cashier keeps his eyeball to himself when he sees yet another college student who’s probably having their third mental breakdown of the day.

It is, but not for the right reasons, you think dryly.

You think you’re alone until the chime of the bell momentarily distracts you and you turn your head to acknowledge the next lone customer who may be going through their own set of issues, or had a fucked up sleeping schedule.

But you’re not expecting to make eye contact with Jennie, out of everyone or any stranger you could’ve come across.

She spots you, shoots you a weird look that has you nearly choking on a string of noodles before she moves on to what she came here to do and stops at the snack section, skimming through her options before she settles on a pack of shrimp chips. Your heart churns because they were Jungkook’s favourite. You don’t want to wonder why she picked them.

You turn to your noodles, scarf them down some more because you want to eat your thoughts away even if you’re half-considering to call Jungkook, tell him you wanted to talk. But you knew that if you spoke to him now when you were still sorting out your thoughts, you’d end up in a situation you won’t be ready to deal with.

So when you poke at your food and sigh to yourself, you almost miss the way the stool beside you scrapes against the floor as you cringe.

You turn to shoot a petty glare at the person, and you see Jennie; casually tearing open her chips and popping one into her mouth

You blink at her, and you’re left even more speechless when she juts her hand out as if to offer you a shrimp cracker. Like it was a weird symbol of a truce. Even if you weren’t really … enemies.

“Want some?”

You stare at her, and before you can think twice your lips are moving.

“The crackers or your company?” You say dryly.

Her eyes widen, and so does yours. You didn’t expect to say your exact thoughts and you don’t think she expected a quiet, timid girl like you to have said that—out loud at least. Like Yena said, everyone has a mean bone in them. Some longer and larger than others, but they were still there.

“Wow.” She huffs, but she doesn’t seem offended. “Rude, much?”

You wince and feel compelled to apologise. “Sorry.”

She waves you off and you feel odd to be sitting next to her. You always expected her to be more malicious, a lot more of a bitch. And you frown to yourself because you suppose it’s your own preconceived notions of her due to the association she has with Jungkook that had you thinking of her that way.

“What’s someone like you doing here on a weekday?” She asks off-handedly.

The term ‘someone like you’ doesn’t sit well with you, and you scowl.

“I’m eating. What does it look like?” You retort, and Jennie only raises an eyebrow at your response. Much like an angry kitten.

“Damn, I was just asking.” She mutters under her breath, “I’m hungry. Needed a snack.” She shakes the crackers in front of you, “You sure you don’t want one?”

You can’t believe her as you gape at her easy-going state when she thrusts the bag of crackers into your face yet again.

“No.” You furrow your brows, gently pushing it away as she shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s good.” She reasons, and you don’t know why she’s so adamant about having you take one.

The irrational part of you thinks she wants to poison you, to eliminate you for good so she won’t have to deal with your pathetic pining over a person that wasn’t even yours.

“I know.” You mutter. “I tried it before.”

Jennie nods her head slowly, observing the content of the packet on the back before she turns to face you, “Jungkook introduced this to me. Didn’t see the appeal but it’s addictive.”

You freeze, and your ramen soup is getting cold with the way you haven’t prodded at it for a while and in the air-conditioning in the convenience store. You feel your stomach drop, especially now that your initial suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s nice.” You grit. It really isn’t.

“Did he introduce it to you?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

Why you’re still talking to her, or why she was bothering to talk to you when she’s ignored you all this while—you aren’t sure. But you still answer her despite the spite that forms in your chest.

“I introduced it to him.” You inform.

She hums, unbothered. It only irritates you more.

“Is there a reason?” You huff. “Why you’re here?”

She raises an eyebrow, “I’m hungry?”

You scoff. “No.” You slam the table ever so slightly because even if you were annoyed and confused, you weren’t that brave and you didn’t want to cause a scene at a convenience store at midnight. “Why are you here. Talking to me.”

Jennie blinks at you, then stares at you for seconds too long that you flush under her unwavering stare before she ends up in a fit of giggles. You almost think she’s here to mock you, to call you out on your pathetic and humiliating pining for someone who doesn’t care about you the same way you do to him. But she pats you on the shoulder, and you want to think it’s condescending but it doesn’t seem that way at all.

“You’re an acquaintance. You looked like you needed the company.”

You frown, “I don’t.”

She rolls her eyes, munching on another chip.

“You do. Your posture looks depressing.”

“Excuse me?” You scowl.

“It’s true.” She shrugs. “You don’t seem the type to be here wallowing unless it’s really bad. You seem like you have your shit together.”

And because your mind is already muddled and confused, and filled with irrational thoughts. Her words set you off, and you seem to be underrating or overreacting more than usual. So you snap, you shove your cup aside that the soup nearly sloshes out and send her a glare so blazing that Jennie’s caught off guard.

“And you think you know me well enough to gauge whether or not I’m ‘like this’ or the type to have a perfect mental breakdown regimen because I’m smart?” You seethe. Jennie’s eyes widen. “I have mental breakdowns like every other student and I binge eat when I’m stressed and I fuck up from time to time. I curse, yes! I see your face. Oh does she not curse? Well, look at me, bitch. I can curse like a motherfucking sailor at sea when the fishes come because I’m human. I’m just like you. So fuck off with your ‘you seem like you have your shit together’ because I don’t and I’m so fucking annoyed with your stupid face whenever I see it because it only reminds me of Jungkook!”

The silence is defining, even the cashier stops counting his bills for the night because you don’t hear the rubbing of money together. You feel his stare on your back, and more pressingly, you feel Jennie’s shocked expression linger on your face, and now that you’ve come down from your rage. Your face heats up in embarrassment.

You don’t even recall what you said, except for the fact you’ve mentioned her and Jungkook in the same sentence. And your face pales.

“I …” She chokes.

You flush, before you’re turning away, snatching your belongings to leave and forget this convenience store and never return because you don’t think you can show your face here ever again.

But before you’re able to make a run for it, a hand grabs your elbow that stops you from moving any further.

“This is already as embarrassing—” You exasperate, trying to snatch your arm away.

“For a girl so smart, you’re really dumb, aren’t you?” She deadpans.

You gape, finding enough strength to retrieve your arm as you stare at her with a dumbfounded expression.

“Excuse me—?”

“Firstly, let’s unpack what you just said because there are a lot of things that need to be dissected here.” She says blankly.

You scowl, “Look I don’t—”

“One.” She blinks as if she was doing a presentation for a course and not talking to an alleged acquaintance. “I don’t think you should act a certain way just because you’re smart. You’re entitled to your own mechanisms and I’m not judging you for them. I was simply pointing out my own observations, and I’m sorry for being insensitive.”

You’re stunned to silence, because did Jennie just … apologise to you?

“Two.” She says. You listen silently. “I think you have things you need to talk to Jungkook about, and frankly—I would’ve stayed away if I knew that the two of you were a thing.”

“We’re not a thing!” You cry, face flushed.

She shoots you an unimpressed look, “Really. So that oddly targeted blow-up was because of your mental breakdown and not because you don’t have feelings for Jungkook?”

She’s the third person to call you out the same day, or within the first one in the next. And it’s even more embarrassing because it’s the girl you’ve compared yourself to countless times because of your own insecurities.

“Yes.” You snap childishly.

Jennie sighs, gesturing for you to sit on the stool. You want to defy her out of spite, but you’ve already gotten this far into the conversation and you feel like you’d miss out on something if you left now.

“Why are you mad at me?” She asks.

“I-I’m not mad—” You weakly protest.

“You are. There’s anger in you and if it’s not directed to Jungkook then it’s directed to me. Is it because I’m a woman?”

Your eyes widen, “What—?”

“Let me reword that,” She sighs. “Is it because I’m the woman with Jungkook?”

You flinch at her declaration, especially since she indirectly confessed to being with him, while you weren’t.

“I don’t …” You trail off in a whisper.

“I don’t blame you for being angry.” She says. “But I need you to understand that I would never have done anything with him if I knew that the two of you were together.”

“We’re not.” You blink, and her unimpressed look is still there that makes you speak a little louder. “We’re not together.”

She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it. You see her furrow her eyebrows before she settles for a response that comes a few moments after.

“Okay, then if you’re not together then why the resentment?” She puts it so simply and now that you’re listening to her, you feel a lot stupider.

“I just …” You croak, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t …”

She sighs, “Listen. We’re both women here. I know how it feels to be left in the dark when it comes to things like this but there’s no point in being angry at me when in reality it’s Jungkook you need to talk to. If you aren’t together then I don’t understand why you’re angry with me—or with him.”

You sit there in silence, nearly pouting like a scolded child.

“You’re his type.” You say softly.

Jennie pauses before she raises an eyebrow.

“And you believe that?”

You furrow your eyebrows, “I mean, of course?” You mumble, “You’re pretty, confident and sexy. Any guy would like you.”

For a moment, you think you’ve said too much. Looked to vulnerable. But Jennie doesn’t do the typical mean girl thing where she laughs in your face and threatens to expose you. Instead, her eyes soften, and her hand reaches out to hold yours.

“____.” She calls your name gently, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re pretty. You’re confident. You are sexy.”

You flush, “No. I’m not.”

She scoffs, “_____, there isn’t a set definition of what a pretty woman is like. Nor is there a one-dimensional understanding of a confident woman. There are confident women who strut in their walk and commands all the attention in the room. But there are also quiet, assured women who are intelligent and confident in their capabilities. Both of them are so different, but the one thing that they have in common?” She prompts as your eyebrows furrow. “They’re both women who are worthy of love.”

You blink up at her when her tone goes softer.

“I don’t think I’m Jungkook’s type.” She tells you.

But for some reason you need to deny it, again.

“I think you are.” You mumble, “You’re … you. And you’re probably … experienced.” You cringe at what you say, and you’re mortified if you need to explain yourself to her. But Jennie immediately picks up on it, and you don’t notice how she tenses for a split second but recovers immediately.

“We’ve done things together, yes.” You feel your heart shatter, “But you don’t have to do anything with him for him to like you.”

You sigh, “Maybe. But that's the only way he’s ever wanted me.” You say so softly that Jennie almost doesn’t catch it.

Jennie’s face softens much more, turning into a much gentler expression as she nudges your chin to look at her. And when you do, you feel wounded. You feel so much less assured than you were when you were raging at her. You hated it, how she treated you so kindly when she should’ve been cursing at you like you did to her.

“Do you want to know something?” She asks.

You nibble on your lips before you nod your head.

“If someone doesn’t want you. It’s not because you’re lacking. It’s because they’re lacking the sense to perceive you in a way that recognises your inherent worth to be loved.”

Your breath hitches and Jennie continues.

“I’ve had instances where men didn’t want to sleep with me because I was too confident, too sexually liberated for them. As if who I slept with mattered because it wasn’t them. It was never going to be them.”

“I didn’t sleep with Jungkook.” You tell her, voice soft as if you needed to clarify.

“And you don’t need to. You don’t need to sleep with anyone for them to want you. If Jungkook only wants you for your body then he doesn’t deserve you.” She points out.

You feel your heart clench, and the realisation coming from Jennie only hurts even more.

“But he’s important to me …” You whisper.

“What’s important is not always what’s good for you.” She informs you with a gentle smile. “Your sexuality is yours. And if you want to sleep or be sexual with someone, you do it because you want to. Not because someone coerced you into doing it.”

Your eyes widened, “N-No. Jungkook didn’t force me. I consented. To all of it.” You murmur, “I wanted to do it. B-But I just felt so … lacking? In comparison and … since then all he’s came to me for was just … that.”

Jennie nibbles on her bottom lip, “Jungkook’s not a bad person.” She says softly. And she’s the second person that tells you that. So you know it’s a true reflection of his character.

“I know.”

She smiles, “We both do.” She nods, “But he’s misguided. He’s never had the ability to be with someone he really cares for and I think when that happened—he dealt with it the only way he knows how to.”

You furrow your brows, “But he’s with you.”

She shakes her head with a small chuckle, “No. Not emotionally, at least.” She informs. “And he doesn’t care about me. I know. He’s always kept me at arms-length away, and I’m fine with that because I don’t like him like that either.”

You blink, and your ears turn red. “H-How do you—?”

“How do I separate lust from affection?” She laughs. “It’s because I can. Not everyone can do that, and Jungkook is one of them.”

“But you just said that he didn’t care about you.”

“I’m not talking about me,” She smiles sadly.

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion until you realise what she was implying. And you don’t want to assume anything, never. Because hope was the one feeling that was worse than fear and you didn’t want to subject yourself to that just yet.

“Oh.” You mumble.

She nods, squeezing your hand.

“I think he misses you.”

You purse your lips.

You missed him, too.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #bad boy good thing

[ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole]

Stories of Paris

Part 4

Part One Part Three AO3

Masterlist

................................................................

Damian was unhappy with the fact that with ‘strangers’ in *his* house their nightly activities would have to carefully navigated. His father nor Pennyworth had not explicitly said anything about it, but he assumed it was because they all knew what was expected. So, being told to line up in the entrance hall by his father went down like a lead balloon.

His pout turned in widening eyes of shock as he witnessed the tall wiry young woman (and a large man he supposed) exiting the car. SHE was his father’s babysitter. This was who oversaw the European branch of W.E. The person who owned the largest portion of shares of W.E (after the Wayne family that is). He was doomed. Damain watched as his father soften as he saw the woman.

“Mari! You never seem to age!” he exclaimed as she gracefully walked up to him and into his embrace.

“Mon cherie! It’s miraculous isn’t it,” she drew back slightly to look over his shoulder, “I see you have taken found family comment to the extreme, but I suppose you were never one to do things in half measures. It’s good to be back here after so long”

Looking at her like he was a child with pleading eyes, “You are staying here, right?”

With a gentle smile with a smirking edge, “Yes. If I tried to leave for a hotel, I’ll end up having the shadows watching me all night. Plus, this place always did feel like my home away from home.”

Damian glancing at his supposed siblings to see that they were also in shock. Probably not for the same reason. Panicking with it all, as he saw his father turn to introduce them to the woman, Damian drew his katana and aimed it at her.

“YOU were fathers' babysitter!!! But... what... you’re younger than him!!!! .... You’re the Grand Lady Guardian... I *refuse* to return.”

Damian vaguely recognised his name being shouted at him, but all his attention was on the Grand Lady Guardian of the Miraculous who stood, rolling her eyes, before him. He could feel her power radiating off, surrounding them all.

“Petit Tresor. I’m not taking you back there. Did you not learn anything from my teachings? Did you not learn to read between the lines? About looking deeper than the surface. You are with *your* found family. THEY are what is important. Bruce may have picked up a lot of my unhealthy habits about vigilantism, but he made a point of understand a good support network and the importance of chosen family. Despite how he enacts the teachings.”

The Monkey with her came to her shoulder and raised his eyebrow at Damian. He finally understood why he was always her bodyguard now rather than the Cat, being that he was her husband.

“You can stand down Petit Tresor. League and Court business will *not* be found here. The League know what will happen if they cross the Court, and I made it very clear after our last encounter when they tried to manipulate us to their advantage.”

Damian assessed the woman before him as he withdrew his katana from her and starting to become aware of the others around him again.

“Why has he got a chaos shard within him Bruce?” The monkey growled looking at him with a dangerous glint in his eye.

Everyone in the entrance hall was frozen in shock and panic. What was meant to be a happy reunion had been derailed but now, suddenly, somehow gained an even sharper edge. Marinette and her husband were aware of their nightly capers, and they also knew of the League, they were involved in something similar and aware of chaos shards.

Damian watched as his father gulped as he looked at the Monkey and the Guardian. It wasn’t often his father showed fear, but it was clear on his face as she arched her eyebrow at him. His siblings all looked on in surprise and uncertain of what to expect. Only Pennyworth and Todd seemed to be handling the situation with any sense of calmness. Surprising for Todd...

“Mari... his mother... the league...”

At the mention of the league the Guardians eye twitch so subtly you’d hardly notice it if not trained and with a minute flicker of her hand, the Monkey flipped his phone out and was walking out back outside to call someone... Damian straining his ears heard Peg and plan 42c being mentioned by the Monkey to whoever he had called.

“They were warned. Tsk, Assassin’s bullheadedness. Kim will sort this out for me for the present moment and we will discuss healing at a later point. Anyway, mon cherie, you were about to introduce me to your children. Petit Tresor I know, and I believe that that is Jason, mon rêveur, in the background though he has grown so much since our last meeting. So, I could guess everyone else, but why don’t you continue?”

The Guardian stated as if the topic of what just happened was over, much to Damian’s surprise. He sheafed his katana but still was wary of the woman and slightly in awe. He had a feeling that the chaos and downfall of his grandfather may have due to her in some way. Slight fear and dread for his mother was building as well. He finally starting to understand the reason for her over protectiveness when she taught him in the league now.

“Right. Mari, this is Dick, Jason who you already met in person? Cass and alongside her Duke, Tim who you meet briefly in the W.E. meeting the other month, Steph who has wormed her way into the family and Damian you who’ve also already met?”

With a polite cough drawing attention to himself, Alfred spoke. “Perhaps, instead of having a mother’s meeting in the entrance hall, we retreat to the drawing room where we can have some refreshments. I am sure that Ms Marinette and Master Kim are exhausted from their travels. It is most unbecoming to stand around loitering, wouldn’t you agree Master Bruce?”

Bruce muttered something as his ears started to tinge red, Marinette turned to Alfred and smiled as she drew him into a hug while Bruce collected himself.

“Yes, right, that sounds like a fantastic idea Alfred. Mari, shall we?”

Bruce offered her an arm which she elegantly took as the took off in the direction of the drawing room delving into conversation with Bruce leaving behind a shocked collection on children in the hall. Alfred slipped off to prepare the refreshments.

Damian cringed as Dick exclaimed, “YOU GUYS KNOW HER?!?!?!!” which echoed around the manor as he finally processed what had just happened.

______________________________________________

Alfred smiled as the atmosphere within the Manor shifted over the last few weeks. It now had a different air about it. Master Bruce became less sullen and slightly less repressed under Marinette’s watch and the Manor started to feel lighter again.

Alfred had found great amusement when he stumbled in on Master Kim lecturing Master Bruce on being dense especially the “I know I’m dense but kwami Bruce! You’re worse than me realising all the competitions I got Mare rigged into was because I wanted to impress her! Let’s start at the beginning, ok?!”.

He hoped that Master Kim might be able to knock a bit of sense into his wayward charge. He knew Ms Marinette, though full of good intentions wouldn’t be able to with Master Bruce’s strange ability to pick up on the wrong message being given.

The highlight of the week was when he entered the family living room to find all his grandchildren looking pale as Master Bruce acted semi child-like in front of Ms Marinette. It was a delight to see Bruce act like the child that he knew he was reawakened again. Even if it terrified the grandchildren.

The whole family discovered that Bruce had been very selective of the stories and information that he had told them about Marinette. She had taken great delight telling them all about what teenage Bruce really was like.

About the time Bruce had a fan induced panic attack on meeting the Jagged Stone. Alfred was slightly aware of something happened but not the details.

About the time Bruce decided to practice parkour in the Manor gardens and ended up stuck halfway up the side of the Manor unable to climb up further or climb down. Alfed was positive he was unaware that Marinette joined him and had to coach Bruce down.

About the series of times that Bruce attempted to prove to Alfred that he had ‘outgrown the kitchen ban’ and had ‘observed Mari’s baking skills sufficiently’ to be able to try again for only the attempts to go south fast. Alfred grimaced at the memories that that bought up. He was glad that he’d got a good working deal with local kitchen fitters and suppliers given the number of fires.

It became a daily breakfast occurrence that Bruce mortified Marinette in his outfit for the day. The breakfast entertainment became watching Marinette tear into his fashion choice of the day, drag up some past clothing or costume disaster. She ended up moaning that he had learnt nothing from her rantings about clothes over the years and stare forlornly into her coffee cup. It was providing the bat boys a wealth of black mail material that Alfred had to on numerous occasions reel Marinette from her tangents.

The only time he let her completely go to town with was letting her regale to everyone about Bruce’s dramatic and insistent argument on fighting crime in Lyca, wearing pants on top of tights and with a cape, that he really insisted that he didn’t need to use Kevlar (that decision didn’t last beyond a few training sessions and one patrol night). Alfred was pleased with her ability to rein that disaster in quickly.

It was in the comfort of the kitchen away from the antics that happened Alfred mused and reflected on his notional niece's visit. Alfred wished he had thought to bring Marinette over sooner as he witnessed that fraught relationships between the Waynes soften. Issues didn’t disappear but Marinettes presence, and ability due to dealing with Akuma, helped mitigate situations which typically would have blown up. Kim always by her side would help soothe, distract, or explain to the puzzled Bruce the techniques Marinette was using to stop the escalation.

She’d slowly began charming and connecting with his grandchildren. Be it by giving Tim pointers on how to manage W.E board members effectively and playing video games. It was eerily like how she warmed Bruce up to her.

By Sitting quietly reading with Jason or playing chess and talking in metaphors about life, death and balance. Slowly having ‘healing sessions to calm the pit madness’ with meditation and grounding sessions.

With Damian she seemed to remind him of alternate grounding techniques which she’d shown him in the league. They seemed to spend time talking in hushed whispers about other stuff that Alfred wasn’t currently privy too.

Duke was with poetry and music. Cass with dance and gymnastics, silent subtle conversations occurred but seeing Cass smile and edge towards being more tactile made Alfred glow with warmth inside. Steph and Marinette commanded the kitchen numerous times baking pastries, waffles and other treats.

Dick took the longest to warm up to the woman, having heard and known about her for over a deacade but never met it was understandable. Alfred wpould never knew what Marinette had done but one day the hostility and coldness disappeared. A joy, childlike smile appeared on Dicks face every time she was in the room, and he’d follow her round like a loat puppy. Watching and mimicking her techniques to calm his brothers down.

How his grandchildren acted with Marinette in the activities brought echoes of memories of her with Bruce to the forefront of Alfred’s mind.

Sighing, in the short time the Manor felt warm and like a family, a home should feel like. Much like before his friends’ death. Schooling his emotions, Alfred set about to serve the family and Parisians last dinner together.

______________________________________________

Bruce tried not to sulk. Tried not to revert to the mind set of when Marinette originally disappeared physically from his life. Especially in front of his children but it was hard. She somehow always managed to take the overwhelming pressure away from him, like he could breathe and be.

Alfred was his father, in all the ways that counted, but the burden of death and saving the world was something Marinette understood at a deeper more personal level. Having her here made it feel safe to feel, that he would always be caught. That she would save him from the consuming darkness. She was the light in the world shining out in the Gotham gloom.

As expected, his children adored her in their unique ways. Following her around like little ducks scrabbling for crumbs of knowledge and titbits of information. Bruce lips twitched as he witnessed them behaving much like he used to. Taking the gems’ she passed on to them and ferreting them away much like he did.

“Master Bruce, I expect better behaviour this leaving gathering than our previous party, please.”

With Alfred’s comments Bruce gave into the feeling of pouting. Why deny how he felt toward the situation where he wasn’t in control. He pointedly ignored the stares that his children were giving him. Again.

“Mon tresor! It’s not like you aren’t going to see or speak to me again. We speak regularly as it is. It’s not the same as it was last time. You know this.”

“But Mari, it's nice having you here. This is your home.”

“Is he always like this Mare, Cupcake? How is it that all the kid’s you’ve looked after end up demanding you live with them?”

Bruce choked at Kim’s statement and the Wayne clan burst into laughter. Alfred let a small smirk grace his face.

“Oui, Mon Amour, He wasn’t happy last time I left at all. Be grateful I learnt to resist kitten eyes or we’d never have reconnected. Manon doesn’t count. She’s practically family as well with how close Maman and Nadja are.”

“What about Elle, Etta and Chris? What about Ivan’s and Mylene’s sproglian? Fang? Jagged’s second round of terrors? Luka and Jules too really.”

“Hush, Mon Amour, circumstantial evidence.”

Bruce observed Kim stare at his wife in disbelief before waving his hand around the room.

“What about these then. Don’t give me that look Cupcake. I’m gonna end up needing to fight the whole batclan at this rate to get you on a plane with me! Maybe I should give Peg’s the heads up that I’ll need his help.”

“I can assure you Master Kim that you *both* are free to leave. The young master's understand that they cannot kidnap you. It would not be becoming of them OR look good for the company for the family to kidnap its own workers.”

Bruce and his family guiltily ducked their heads at Alfred’s comments. When Alfred turned away to start talking to Kim, Tim leant in close to Bruce to whisper to him.

“Do you think we have the power to move her to being director of North America rather than Europe? Mari would be closer then? Plus, the guy in charge isn’t all he’s cracked up to be so the board would likely approve it.”

Bruce stared at his son at the ingenious and simple solution and smiled, before ducking his head when Alfred pointedly looked his way.

“We’ll discuss that concept later.”

Bruce gave Tim a subtle nod as if he was approving the idea. Technically he was but Alfred didn’t need to know that. Nor did Kim really, as he would fight him if he found out and he’d rather not deal with an ex-olympian superhero, even when he pulled his punches they hurt far more than the average persons.

Bruce sat back into his seat and smiled as the conversation and chaos flowed around him. His whole family finally together and he cherished it. He knew it wasn’t going to last much longer with the impending flight looming but for now he had a potential and creative plan to work on. If he framed it right it could also become the prefect family bonding activity that both Marinette and Kim thought he needed to do more of outside of vigilantism. And if the end result was that she moved closer, well, that’s just an added bonus in his eyes.

With that in mind, Bruce joined in with the choas enjoying the moment with his complete family. Nothing could take this away from him.

Tag:

@neakco @corporeal-terrestrial @jayjayspixiepop @lady-bee-fechin @prettylittlebutterflie

#maribat #maribat au #ml crossover #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc x ml #dc x mlb #marinette x bruce #marinette x alfred #platonic #found family #babysitting #marinette x jason #marinette x dick #marinette x tim #marinette x damian #all platonic #dickinette #jasonette #timari #damianette

[fruitcoops]

I'm having a shit day all around and the only way it could be better is to have my sister around lol but she's away for college. I was wondering if you could do a fic with Jules or Reg? Where they're having an awful day and seek sibling hugs? :) Thank you

Anon, this is such a mood right now and I hope you can see your sister soon <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Regulus didn’t miss the Snakes. Far from it, actually—he hated them and everything they stood for, and he would never forgive them for what they did to his brother. For all he cared, they could burn alongside his parents.

But sometimes…sometimes he regretted dropping out of hockey.

The spotlight was constantly on Sirius, now; there were no more comparisons between the brothers, but that also meant the papers never looked deeper than the surface of Regulus’ personality. Sirius was overwhelmingly, ridiculously proud of him for going to college—almost too proud, in Regulus’ opinion—and lit up like a candle whenever it was brought up at an interview.

He’s my little brother, Sirius had said during the most recent conference. I’m happy he’s following his heart for once.

So reporters fawned over him whenever they saw him at the grocery store and peppered him with endless questions, only to sprinkle in the bare minimum around all the amazing, wonderful things Sirius had done in the past 24 hours since they last interrogated him. They spoke to Regulus like he was some dumb high schooler who had dropped out because he couldn’t handle the pressure—simpering, sympathetic, and a little pitying.

They didn’t care about him. They cared that he was the great Sirius Black’s kid brother, and there was nothing he could do about it now that he was off the ice.

Regulus scrolled past a few more articles with his face plastered on the front, gripping the cool marble countertop tightly. Let it roll off, he reminded himself. They don’t know you or Sirius.

NHL Dropout to Attend NYU

Younger Black ‘Following His Heart’

Sirius Black: Proudest Brother in the NHL

See Sirius Black’s New Interview Here!

“I’m heading out!” Remus called from the front door, snapping Regulus’ train of thought.

“Alright, drive safe.”

The door closed behind him with a clickand Regulus sighed, sliding down to sit on the floor. He rested his head back against the cabinets, simultaneously too upset to be productive and too energized to mope around. He lingered there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, before sighing again and heading into the basement. Only one thing would make him feel better.

“Bonjour,” Sirius said absentmindedly as he skated along the outside of the rink.

“Got room for one more?”

Sirius looked up and grinned. “Course.”

Lacing his skates was muscle memory, and pushing out onto the ice was more of a relief than he cared to admit. Part of him had been afraid it would be soured by his decision to leave the NHL—maybe that was a silly thought, but hockey still held a large piece of his heart.

Maybe I’ll go back someday, he thought as he flicked a puck to Sirius. Not now, but…later.

The puck bounced off the front of his skates. “You’re thinking too loud.”

“You don’t think loud enough,” he countered.

Sirius barked a laugh and checked him lightly. “Head in the game, petit enfant. Head in the game.”

“I hate it when you call me that.”

“Why do you think I do it?”

“Because you’re an asshole.” He slapped the puck toward the goal, but it bounced off the crossbar. Irritation flared hot and white in his chest. “Pass it back, yeah?”

“There’s one right next to your—”

“Just pass it back!” Regulus snapped. His throat felt tight; the back of his neck itched, and there was unwelcome pressure building behind his eyes.

Sirius’ teasing smile dimmed. “Reg?”

He sniffled. “Just pass the fucking puck, okay?”

The soft shush of skates was familiar and more soothing than Regulus cared to admit. Nobody skated as quietly as Sirius—there was a reason they called him ‘Padfoot’ after all. He stared at the ground, willing the tears of hurt and frustration to vanish into thin air. Arms wound around him.

“Stop it,” he demanded, though his voice broke. “Sirius, let go.”

Sirius pulled him closer and rested his chin on top of his head. Regulus felt something crack a little inside, and his shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. Sirius rubbed his back like he was eight years old again, falling apart in the backyard because his feet hurt, and it was cold, and that stupid play just wasn’t clicking.

“Nobody likes me,” he blubbered. In any other scenario, he would’ve felt like the biggest wuss in North America, but Sirius was safe. Sirius was home.

“People like you.”

“Only because they like you better.” He took a few shallow gulps of air. “They—they pretend to care an’ I can’t even do anything about it anymore.”

“Is this about reporters?”

“It’s about everyone.”

Sirius sighed heavily. “Reg—”

“It’s fine, I can handle it—”

“Stop.” Silence fell over the rink. Sirius pulled back and held Regulus’ face between his hands, looking straight into his eyes. “You are outstanding, and one of the bravest people I know. If reporters don’t take the time to see that, they aren’t worth your energy.”

Regulus wiped his cheek dry. “I know.”

“And the Lions think you’re pretty damn cool, too. James is still waiting for that rematch after you kicked his ass. Leo’s your best friend. Remus has been talking about that book you recommended for a week straight, which I don’t know whether to thank you for—” That drew a weak laugh from him, and he saw Sirius’ face soften. “—and I’m your brother. I missed you, and I love you. So please don’t dwell on tabloids or some shit like that. They have no right to make you feel unloved.”

Regulus leaned forward into his chest with a few deep breaths. “How are you so good at pep talks?”

“Captain.”

“Ugh, right.”

“I was terrible at them in the beginning,” he said. Regulus snorted. “Ask Pots or Kasey sometime. It was mortifying. I’m pretty sure Coach almost took my badge away for that.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Now come on, your slapshot still sucks.”

“It does not!” Regulus protested, punching him in the arm as he pulled away. “My slapshot is perfect!”

“Tell that to the crossbar.” Sirius their skates together. “Come on, put some power into it!”

“I regret being related to you.”

“Says the one who got snot on my shirt five minutes ago.”

Regulus’ next (entirely perfect, thank you very much) slapshot went directly toward Sirius’ shin. He dodged, unfortunately, but the undignified yelp it earned him was well worth the trouble.

#fanfic #my fic #sweater weather #lumosinlove #sirius black #regulus black #remus lupin #brothers