#'hes got like a stalker radar if anyone will find her its him'

[nejackdaw]

Just watched Sweeney Todd with Bread. They get why I'm like this now

[onmyyan]

Straight Venomous

Ch.7 · word count: 5,782 · A/N: omg so my phone broke sorry for the delay buuuut chapter seven is here!! we getting into now girls gays n theys, cursing canon typical violence tw gore, tw yandere shit, tw Jason's potty mouth feedback is always welcome hope you enjoy EDITED 1/11/2023

It was a rare sight to see all the Wayne men in one place, especially at the dinner table. Alfred couldn't have been happier, he'd been a fury in the kitchen all day. The first to arrive was the pair of Tim and Dick, they greeted to older man with warmth but the sense of seriousness wasn't unseen by the Butler, in fact, he was only more sure something was wrong when shortly after their arrival, Jason climbed in through the kitchen window, a sight that reminded Alfred of his younger days.

The second oldest offered the man a brief greeting before silently leaning on the counter, the furthest away from the rest, it all but confirmed his suspicions. Damian had entered the room with a scowl, said nothing, and sat rather harshly in the seat closest to the door. Before Alfred could begin to question the influx of batchildren in his company the patriarch himself made his way up from the cave, the bottom half of his suit still on. His expression unnerved him the most. It was the look he'd seen on his young master's face a handful of times, and it only meant trouble.

"Boys," he greeted each with a nod, his eyes lingering on Jason a second longer, "As lovely as this surprise is, I can't help but wonder why you called us here Tim."

The dark-haired male met his father's eyes as he spoke, "We've all been dancing around this for weeks now but there's something- rather someone, we need to talk about, I don't know how much longer she'll last where she's at." Each man in the room grew stiff as a board, one woman coming to each of their minds.

"What the Hell are you on about Drake? What woman?" Damian's voice carried over the sudden silence, his tone as disgruntled as ever. Tim watched each of their expressions eagerly, gauging their feelings would be impossible for anyone not trained by Bruce. All of them had tells and Damian's was the way in which he gripped the table, Bruce remained stoic as ever, but his eyes told it all. Jason had actually taken a seat at the table. Dick, despite being told first, is just as on edge as the rest. 

"Our sweet little runaway D, (Y/n) seems to find trouble wherever she goes huh?" Tim had anticipated resistance from his truth bomb but Jason leaping across to slam him face-first into the mahogany table was a surprise. 

"What the fuck are you doing saying her name like that huh Timmy? How do you know her?" Dick was quick to try and pull the older man off of Tim but only made Jason angrier, his grip tighter. 

"I'm saying she's in trouble Jay- and if you cared, really really cared, you'd hear me out." At this Jason released him his face still twisted into a snarl. "Start talkin' right fuckin' now." His breath was ragged, panting like a beast above its prey. Tim rose from his position slowly, his grin twitching at the tension in the room.

Dick hovered behind Jason ready to subdue the panting man, Damian now stood, his knuckles pressing into the surface of the table. "Beastie? What do you know about that criminal?" This pulled Jason's attention to the youngest Wayne, his furious expression made Damian's hand twitch towards the weapon in his holster, instead, he kept his gaze on the older man. "Criminal? No, you got it wrong she ain't done anything worth getting on your radar shithead." The wall of muscle known as Jason Todd couldn't be more unhappy. He'd only come here to speak with Bruce about you, he sure as shit didn't expect Tim to pull whatever this was. "She damn near killed me outside that rat's nest you call an apartment." The youngest responded with a grunt and a roll of his eyes. 

"What the fuck were you doing outside our place, you little stalker?" Jason's attention was fully on Damian now, he circled around the table like a shark. Only being stopped by Bruce's large arm. "He was there because I have a file on (Y/n), she's not a criminal, not yet anyway. But I know you're smart enough to know something is going on with her." Jason threw his arm off him, now pacing the room. "You know, just as much as I do if left unchecked she is a danger to herself and others."

Jason fixed his mouth to say something only to shut it, his head shaking in disbelief. "So- so you're telling me you spoke to her? You and this little shitstain over here musta' scared the shit outta her!" Jason rubbed the bridge of his nose his fist embedding itself in the wall nearest to him.

"Master Todd! You may no longer live under this roof but I will not stand for any disrespect of this home." Alfred spoke sternly from his position at the stove, turning to point a spatula in his direction. Jason apologized under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He sat at the nearest chair with a huff before continuing.

"She just got scared is all she hasn't hurt anyone. God, here I was thinking it was me who scared her off but of course, it was you B- I finally find something for myself, someone that makes it worth breathing and of course, you're the one who fucks it up." 

Bruce stared down at his son, wanting nothing more than to hug away all that troubled him. Instead, he kneeled down, and his hand hesitated to touch him, knowing how rocky their relationship was, it fell limp at his side as he locked eyes with Jason.

"I know you have no reason to believe me, but I didn't know she was important to you Jason. I'm truly sorry to have done anything to make her run, it's the last thing I wanted." Jason's watery gaze flicked from his father to his successor, Tim had set a laptop in front of him, patiently waiting for their attention. 

"You said she's in danger?" All eyes flicked to Tim as he finally opened the laptop. He flipped the screen around to show some footage of what appeared to be Arkham, specifically an inmate kicking another into a wall with the force of a semi barreling down the highway.

"Holy Hell, that's some kick she has there," Dick spoke first, his fingers nervously playing with the hem of his shirt, his eyes eagerly drinking in the grainy footage of his darling. Every time he saw her he fell a little deeper in his growing fixation. Jason said nothing his eyes furrowed as he watched the clip again and again. Damian scoffed at the sight, his pulse quickening at the thought of facing you again, really fighting this time, and Bruce wouldn't be there to interrupt. He'd make sure of it. The second he got the chance he was going to bring you into his training room and break you in all the best ways. He'd put you back together, of course, he always took care of his toys.

Bruce walked over to Tim's side, his hand firmly patting his shoulder. "I assume you have a plan." The younger man grinned from ear to ear, this little meeting of his going exactly as he'd intended. With Bruce officially on board he quickly opened a folder on his desk labeled with a simple heart. "If we want to keep her out of the wrong hands, keep her safe, She has to disappear." His fingers were like lightning on the keyboard as he pulled up a standard Arkham guard ID card, Warren Kint was the name on it, and Dick's face stared back at them from the screen.  

"Why does Grayson get to retrieve her?" Damian asked, clearly displeased with not being chosen, he'd quickly figured out his predecessor's plot. Tim sighed through his nose before responding "Because Jason's legally dead, everyone knows your face, and Bruce Wayne can't exactly apply for a job there without someone noticing. Dick's been out of Gotham for years now, he's less likely to be recognized." 

"That and I don't like that look in your eye when you talk about her." 

"Who put you in charge scum?" Damian stood quickly taking the jab far too personally. Bruce was quick to pacify his most volatile Robin "Relax, Tim is taking point on this. Respect it, son." 

Tim shot the taller male a smirk from behind Bruce before continuing. "I've got everything rigged for your big escape, this dose is strong enough to knock out Killer Crock so it should get the job done." He tossed the vile backward knowing Dick was hanging off his every word. "After she's out all you gotta do is cause a big enough distraction to slip away unseen got it?" 

"What then hm? You gonna take her back to our place right?" Jason asked suddenly making his way over, his impeding form hovering over the still-sitting Tim. 

"If you want the penguin to know where she's at in two seconds sure." Tim chose his words carefully, knowing Jason's urge to keep you safe made him a walking nuke.

"Think about it Jay- she's with us, all of us, nobody would be able to touch her. She'd be somewhere 1000% safe, away from all the slimy bastards in this city. You'd never lose her again." It was silent for a bit before he responded, "Okay. Yeah, that checks out, why the hell are you so interested in helping her?"

"Jason we're heroes, all we do is help people." Tim's smile was as real as they came, but something in his eyes unsettled Jason told him he wasn't being 100% in his response.

He shook his head, scoffing out a laugh, "Right- sure. What about the rest of you hm? You all just extra concerned about this one citizen?" Bruce sighed through his nose. "I'd simply feel more comfortable if she was close, the power she has could be lethal in the wrong hands." Damian nodded firmly, knowing his real reasons wouldn't go over too well with his unstable sibling. "It's my fault- all of this." Dick said, a hand over his mouth as he finally pulled his eyes away from the screen to meet Jason's, "I was late to a mission, god just five minutes late and," a shuddered breath left him as he held Jason's hard stare. "I'm the reason all this is happening to her. I gotta make it right J- I gotta." Jason exhaled through his nose as he stood, once more pacing the dining room. "Okay, so where's she gonna go? Do you think she'll just accept us uprooting her life? No fucking way she goes for that." 

"I may have a solution," Bruce spoke kicking off his place on the wall. I'd anticipated her joining m- us here for quite some time." He began walking towards the elevator that lead to the cave. Damian's eyes widened, he'd finally get to see what his father had been keeping so secret in that blocked-off section of the cave, without a word he was shadowing his father, the other three soon fell in step, the walk bubbling with tensions.

They entered the cave, the air thick with possibilities. Bruce walked over to a door with a hand scanner, after a second it flashed green and with a hiss the thick steel door opened, sliding inward. Sitting like a beast in slumber was a clear plexiglass cage. There was a door with another hand scanner and a small window next to it. Inside sat a plush-looking bed that went from wall to wall, in front of that was a leather-bound lazy-boy, and besides that was a shelf lined with all the classics, off to the side was the only part of the cage not made of plexiglass, Bruce had enough decency to make the bathroom completely private. The bed was a soft pink, the lights in the room set to a dimmer, in his research he'd found a lot about his (Y/n), like how 'the big light' bothered her or how certain fabrics were better than others, every inch of the 'adjustment' room was carefully thought out with her interests in mind. In his heart of hearts, he hoped she'd only spend a few weeks in here, that she'd grow not only used to but fond of her time here.

Each member of the Batfamily took their time to inspect the room, Jason opened a drawer only to pause at the familiar clothes, forgetting where he was for a moment he brought the worn-down sweater to his face and took a deep shaky inhale, her scent had long since been replaced by his own as he'd taken to sleeping in her bed. The smell of her shot a warmth into his core like he'd been brought back from death once again.

Dick had quickly sat on the bed, taking extra time to not disturb the carefully placed pillows, he couldn't explain it but the image of her curled in the sheets had his pulse racing, he could see it now, wrapping around each other, telling her stories of the countless adventures he'd been on, getting to apologize for not saving her the first time, all the fun ways he'd make it up to her, he'd walk on his knees for the rest of his life if it brings a smile to that face- god he'd finally get to see her in person, no more screens. Tim walked around the interior, eagerly checking the corners of the room for any weak spots, he made a vow not to let himself relax until you were safe. Once you were, he was all but certain the others would push you too hard too fast, you'd hate them, and he'd be there as your one true confidante, the one person you could trust. Eventually, the isolation combined with his family's penchant for intensity would drive you where you'd belonged the whole time, securely in his arms. 

Damian watched from the outside as his siblings wandered around the room with childish excitement. Unlike the others, he was excited about your arrival for a completely different reason, sure he didn't want you hurt or to fall down the wrong path, but that's just because he wants a true fight. Of course, he wasn't hit with whatever spell you'd cast on his family, he could scoff at the notion, and definitely didn't spend the last few weeks repeatedly drawing your face, both as the beast and the beauty. He certainly wasn't counting down the seconds until he could look you in the eye again.

Bruce overlooked it all from the doorway, he'd realized a few fundamental truths all at once.

1. He passed his more intense traits along to them, and any hope of this not ending in bloodshed meant sharing

2. He wasn't exactly excited to share but knew it bring them closer than ever before

3. He wanted your last name changed to Wayne as soon as he could, it just sounded so pretty in his mind.

Elsewhere

Arkham Asylum really only had two moods. Batshit insane and eerily silent, the second day into your stay you’d been manhandled into the common area by this prick named Dave. He made the typical sexist comment as he hauled you around. Venom took over last minute to kick his ankle in, his body crumpled with a yelp as he slammed against the dirty tile. Before he could process the moment you’d moved forward to place yourself in the iron cage they called the common room. The chittering people around you silenced briefly at your appearance before resuming their chatter. 

Your eyes roamed the bustling room, wincing slightly at all the noise. Before you could pick a corner to haunt your allotted 30 minutes of ‘leisure’, the jumpy redhead from your first night slid beside you with a lip-splitting grin. Literally.

It had been days since you’d eaten enough, and a really big part of you was getting scared at the whole deal. See in your early days with V, he was still eating your organs from the inside out, he hadn’t said much besides the occasional word, a scary as shit thing to hear when you’re three bowls deep and alone.

‘Hungry’ was the first thing he’d said, and when you did in fact eat, trying desperately to ignore the deep voice in your head, he said ‘More’. 

Thankfully it was one of those nights neither of your roommates was home because if they were, they’d get front-row tickets to the show of you on all fours, viciously ripping into any and everything in sight. The fridge door was now hanging on by one hinge, the other flew off with the force you opened it with. Day-old leftovers and the last of Jason’s famous chili soon joined the cornucopia of food now resting in your stomach, and in the back of your mind, you knew something was wrong because it Just. Wasn’t. Enough.

In a moment all of it had come right back up, mostly landing in the kitchen garbage. A heat like nothing you’d ever felt before flushed over your body, and your head began to pound in time with the voice. 

“More. More. Not enough.” It felt like you’d been put in a blender and flash-frozen all at once. Clumsily you stumbled back into your room just barely making it to the bed before collapsing on top. Moments after, the blankets on your bare skin felt like hot glass, pushing you to crawl away from the feeling, now face down on the floor the voice had gone silent. Your body curled in on itself, and the heat coming off your flesh made condensation appear on the floor where you laid. Your eyes searched the room in a haze, the mirror hanging on the back of the door gave you a chill once you caught sight of your sickly form. 

Dark veins had crawled to the surface of your skin, and a sheen of perspiration coated your twitching form. Just before you blacked out the darkness all converged into a horrifying mass, completely masking your face in its own. The whites of the eyes were the last thing you noticed before darkness took over. 

You’d woken up god knows how long later arm deep in the chest of some unrecognizable heap, the remains of his tacky shirt let you in on his identity, one of the neighborhood's scummier dealers laid motionless, just outside your apartment. It looked like a bear had attacked him. One look at your gore-covered hands had you shoving them as deep in your pockets as you could, quickly backing away from the carcass, eyes blown wide with every emotion you had rushing at you all at once.

“What..fuck what did I do.”

‘I did what you couldn’t human. I fed us.’

”Fucking shit! Okay okay, breathe (Y/n). Just breathe.” A shaking breath left you as you wiped at your mouth, desperate to wake from this weird ass nightmare.

”Okay so- you got some bad pot, happens to the best of us. Someone probably laced it and this is just the worst trip ever.” A sigh of relief left you as logic calmed your raging mind. Thankfully it was late so people weren’t too keen to look down random alleyways, never before had you been so grateful to live in Gotham. It took nothing at all to scrape the remaining mush into a nearby sewer drain. You caught your reflection in a puddle near the crime scene, only to be met with a more fully realized monster from last night. 

Your back hit the wall with a thud. Frozen in fear, you tried to speak to the hallucination. 

“This- holy shit- what are you?” The question was more for yourself yet it was still answered. 

‘Venom. And I am not a monster. Stupid girl.’ It sounded annoyed but more concerning, it had responded to a comment you’d made in your mind.

‘Of course, I did. I am in you, after all, I can see everything.’ 

“Uh- okay! Okay, not cool, not cool at all.” You shoved yourself off the wall and back towards the door to your apartment. The evidence of your midday  snack was washed down the drain with a quickness, the heat from the shower made you nauseous so you quickly flicked it towards ice cold, at least it should have been, but the bitter cold felt good on your boiling flesh

It took a long somewhat awkward conversation but eventually, the two of you came to a fast conclusion. He wouldn’t take over as long as you kept him fed. 

A feat that had been put on hold since your impromptu Arkham stay. You were still good. At least your definition of good. No one was in immediate danger of consumption. You hoped so at least.

”You sure do space out a lot of sugar.”

”Only when I have to think.” this earned a loud cackle from the redhead, his smile rather contagious. The loud laughter had managed to resplit his lip, the bright red blood beaded at the lip, without meaning to you'd reached out a soft (s/c) hand, and swiped it away with your thumb, your lips encased around it, paying no attention to how flushed your conversation partner had become at the action. 

”How’s your face? I didn’t mean for that to happen.” He scoffed, his blush ever visible as he passed a finger over his bruised lip, “This is nothin’! A little knuckle sandwich for the price of getting to talk to you? Fair deal.” His smirk was dangerous, the kind that would have had pre-venom-you running for the hills. The bright red blood in his cut looked oddly fitting with his wild expression. The sweet tang of him was still thick in your mouth, his flirtation didn't help in the slightest, if anything it made your stomach grumble in a way that had you taking a half step back. “Right. Well glad we’re good.” Internally hoping your poor socialization skills would come in handy, you were disappointed when he closed the distance between you, eagerly dragging you to a nearby table. 

His smile was more of a sneer, all but permanently accompanied by that devious expression. Wide green eyes drank you in eagerly. “So how’s a pretty lady like yourself end up in the loony bin with the rest of Gotham's finest?” He spoke so animatedly, gesturing to the rest of the room with a playful twirl of his fingers. “Me? I murdered the ol’ mom. You know how they can be just,” his fist slammed into the table, “Suuuch a pain.” He leaned forwards to lessen the space even more. 

“She’s the only one under my belt but ooh do I got a helluva show planned!” He was pushing for a reaction, desperate to see who you were on the inside. You leaned on your elbows taking a second to process his tale. “You like to talk about yourself huh gingy.” His smile twitched a bit before he broke out into a cackle. “Well of course I do! Stars are always full of themselves Darlin’. Rule of the trade no?”

Had you not been so enthralled by your new friend and potential meal, you'd of noticed the stare of utter hatred the fresh-faced guard was shooting him. He held his electric baton with a white-knuckled grip, mentally debating ditching Tim's plan and just breaking it over the little shit's head, tossing you over his shoulder, and finally just bringing you home, it was then and only then he'd actually be able to breathe, he'd been updated on all your escapades since that night in Bludhaven, and just about fell over. Tim had to talk him down for an hour just so Dick would hear his plan out.

Dick knew he’d need a big distraction to get you out of there the right way. The cadaver with your uniform on was taking the role of your body while he’d be sneaking out the real one safe and sound. That fire in his belly burned hot at the memory. He knew all at once who’d be assisting in your little escape plan. Dick had the heart of a hero and he knew killing someone, even for you, would be frowned upon, so he did the next best thing. He dragged that Valeska prick out of his cell by his ankles and proceeded to beat him black and blue, he was still breathing, and Dick would never intentionally kill anyone. Sure he was choking those breaths through puddles of blood but hey, still breathing. He held the younger man up by his bloodied shirt, one hand dragged the limp body behind him while the other unlocked the door to cell block-A, Tim had scheduled a failure in the CCTV system, which had him moving at a leisurely pace. Dick whistled a nameless tune as he pushed the nearly unconscious man before him, he shoved so hard Jerome flipped over the railing and landed in the center of the room, three floors down. Dick stood at the top silently, “Sure hope you didn’t die from that Valeska. The next part doesn’t really work if you did.” The gurgled response from Jerome was enough for Dick to move forward with the plan. With the push of a button, every cell in the room slammed open with a crash. Like sharks in the ocean, they swarmed Jerome’s now still body, no sooner did they start screaming did the riot alarms go off. 

Dick counted to ten in his mind, the chaos had spilled into the rest of Arkham, and a fire in (Y/n)‘s room had consumed all in its path, covering Dick’s escape route perfectly. He drove with you in the front, tucked safely into a blanket he’d thought to bring, drugged out of your little mind. Dick took an extra five minutes to just admire you in the flesh. He’d been going stir crazy not having access to you, ever since he’d learned of your existence he’d needed to see you safe and sound, and now, finally, he could breathe. You were alright. You were with him. Nothing could get to you again, he wouldn’t let it. His smile never left his face, he knew you were asleep but hoped you'd subconsciously hear him anyway. "I'm sorry our first official meeting had to be done with you dreaming sweetie, don't worry I have our real meeting all planned out, I got stuck with the second shift watching ya' but I swear I'll be worth the wait." He spent the rest of the car ride like that, whispering sweet nothings to your unconscious body.

The ‘room’ was pleasantly cold. Much colder than the murky heat that haunted the walls of Arkham, if you could call it a room. The plush bedding was cool to the touch, it was the first thing you noticed, how good it felt under your fingertips. It probably had to do with how stiff and scratchy the poor excuse of a blanket folded crisply in your cell. The bloodstained jumpsuit you’d grown used to had been replaced by a soft, dark grey pajama set. It felt new but smelled faintly of cologne as if a man had worn it moments before it found its way onto your sleeping body.

The second thing you noticed was the small ringing in the back of your head, it was low but consistent, a constant thrum carried throughout your skull, never going away, it was so annoying in fact it drew you from your dreamless slumber. Venom was unsettlingly quiet. The only sound was the buzz.

Once you realized something was wrong, you sprung up from your comfortable position, now sitting upright, your eyes adjusted to the warm light the salt lamp provided, taking in the alarming state of your surround. The room looked to be at least 10ft, big enough for the large bed you awoke on, and a fluffy-looking lazy boy parked in the corner, a few books stacked neatly on the shelves lining the glass container. 

“What the hell.” A breathless laugh left you as you spun in a slow circle, hoping the explanation would reveal itself. “V are you seeing this?” You asked aloud, uncaring if whoever put you here found it odd. You were met with silence. The fear really started to roll in over you at the lack of response, “Come on V where are ya, big guy.” Sweat had begun to form on your brow, it only increased with the crackling of a speaker you hadn’t noticed before.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Jason’s voice came from a small box in the upper corner of the room. The once calming baritone now only further filled the sinking pit in your gut. “Jason? Is that you? What the fuck is this-Jason?” Your breath begins to pick up, the unease fully fogging your mind. 

The panic began to hurdle at you in waves, not helped by the door a few feet from your new cell opening with a woosh. In no time Jason had made it to the other side of the plexiglass, his sweet gaze paired with the gentle hand pressing against the hard surface felt out of place with the current situation.

“Shh- breathe. Just breathe for me- it’s okay honey- it’s okay look I’m here. I’m right here.” You brought a shaking hand to your mouth, mind swirling with all the information his appearance had given you. 

“I know you’re scared- I told the bastards you wouldn’t like waking up like that, all alone. I’m sorry about that. But I’m here now.”

”Why am I in a fucking cage, Jay? I went to bed in a cell last night. How the fuck am I here? Why am I here? Is it that shit with Penguin? God, I swear I don’t know anything please.” Your voice began to waive as you tried to handle everything. Why hasn’t Venom answered you? Why was that fucking buzzing still happening? Why were you in a fucking box?!

”I need you to hear me right now- really hear me.” His hand curled into a fist as he spoke, gently knocking on the glass to emphasize his words.

“You’re safe. Okay? You’re not in trouble or in jail or ever going to deal with that short bird-faced fuck ever again you here?” His voice grew in volume as he spoke, his hand closing into a tight fist on the glass. There was a beat of silence as you forced yourself to breathe properly.

”You didn’t need to run honey. I could’ve protected you from all of this.”

”You don’t understand Jason- what happened to me.”

”You bonded with an illegal alien parasite from space. Who cares?.”

”How the hell do you know that?”

”Bruce has a file on you, he knows everything. Even how to make it quiet up there.” his finger tapped twice against his temple

Teary-eyed, your head snapped up to look at the offender. “Who the hell- I don't know a Bruce- look whatever it is make it stop. Please I need V.”

”What are you talking about darlin’?"

“Do not play with me right now.” Your fist pounded against the wall before you, despite Venom being silent the doors of your cage rattled against the force you threw, so you knew he was still in there.

"I get why you're upset sweetheart- I really do but you gotta eat something okay?" His tone was light and sweet as he placed the hot meal in the small box, you quickly rushed him, hoping to grab him through the tiny door. "S'no good hun, only one door at a time." He had that god damned knee-weakening smile on his face while he spoke. You took the tray with a glare.

"Just cuz I'm eating doesn't mean I'm down for whatever Hannibal Lecter bullshit this is." He snorted through his nose, eyes never leaving you. "I didn't expect you to, look I know you have questions but we thought it is best to take it slow if nothing else I ask you to understand you're safe."

You scoffed under your breath, appetite leaving as the sting of his betrayal pulsed in your mind, of course, he'd turn on you, he was a hero. It was inevitable.

"So what you gonna lure me into a false sense of security then send me to some lab to be bleed me dry right?" His eyes widened, looking almost offended at the notion.

"You ain't hearing me, hun." He kneeled down to meet your gaze, you hadn't even realized you'd fallen to the floor. "You ain't going to some lab, or back to Arkham or anywhere I can't keep you safe." Exhausted with the entire ordeal your energy to fight all but sizzled away. "You don't need to do that Jay- I can take care of myself." Your voice shows the exhaustion you felt. He stared down at you with pity, so so close to walking in just to hold you, feel you with him. Instead, he sighed, "Caring about someone the way that I care about you, means you’re capable of anything. That’s the kinda love people don’t talk about. It’s real, it’s vicious, and it ain’t going anywhere." "You love me, Jay?" You sounded so soft and small when you asked as if you were genuinely surprised. His smile was the same one you'd grown used to seeing back in the apartment, warm and sweet like honey.

"You've had me in the palm of your hand since the day you moved in."

[lawslessons]

hi hi! i js found your blog and omg its amazing??? especially what you wrote for Sabos soulmate vv mucho gusto😤👌🏽

could i request B from the soulmate alpha for Law? i feel like Law is the last person to believe in soulmates and love and all that bs, but when he sees tattoos he’s all too familiar with on someone else... yeah! he probably thinks they’re some intense groupie at first until one of his men brings up the whole soulmate business. anywho, hope all goes well! :D

Law x Reader - Rivers of Ink

I agree with that! He would be a stubborn man for sure. Honestly I was a little self indulgent with what I wrote for this, I do hope you forgive me if this isn’t what you were expecting. Today is February 17th and tomorrow, the 18th, is actually my birthday so I made this one extra long as a mini gift to you all! I hope you enjoy this, dear. I had a fantastic time writing this!

Warnings: Slight NSFW, Love at First Sight

Synopsis: Nightmares plagued the doctor every night, nothing seemed to be able to remedy his affliction. But could one artistic individual on an island hold the answer to his worries? A sudden and unexpected whirlwind of a romance, Law struggles to see and accept the fact that he was falling hard so quickly. 

“Haven’t you heard that tattoos don’t age that well?” Someone whispered into Law’s ear as he walked down the dark alleyway. The lights flickered above him, moths swarmed around the light until it was barely visible, it served no purpose in being there. He rolled his eyes and turned his head to see who was there, but he was unable to see anyone. 

“Marking up your pretty body like that? What a shame,” Another sneered, the words grew louder and soon it turned into chanting, it was louder, louder and louder. His ears began to ring, laughter pierced his ears and soon Law felt like he was falling. 

Law gasped as he woke up with a start and clutched his chest. His eyes were wide as he felt around his bedside table for his glass of water. He chugged the remnants of what was inside while he used his free hand to wipe the sweat off of his brow and onto his palm instead. He felt clammy and gross from waking up so suddenly, his eyes felt dry and heavy, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that easily after what he experienced. Leaving his bed, he grabbed his jacket and left his room to go to one of the main hallways of his submarine so he could look out at the ocean. The ocean was beautiful, they all said. But in the night, the normally blue ocean was a vast expanse of black ink. He stared out at the ink and saw that there was nothing notable to look at. The ocean was dark, the submarine was dark, nothing seemed able to emit much light here. He didn’t even know his purpose in coming out here, his nightmare seemed to have more light than the hallway he was currently in. Dismayed, he grabbed onto one of the walls and groped his way back to his room before he laid down on his bed and did his best to force himself to sleep. He was blessed to not have anymore dreams, or nightmares that night about his inked up skin. He woke up and overheard his crew talking about how they noticed an island on the radar and how they were going to go up to restock on some supplies and to also get some fresh air as well. Law made himself get ready for the day, he couldn’t let anyone else find out about his restless night.

Law went up to the deck for the first time in weeks when they finally reached land. The warm air on his tanned cheeks caught him off guard, he felt disoriented after coming out of his underwater hibernation. The captain glanced around the shore of the island with his steely eyes and saw how the island was rather boisterous and full of life. The islanders were walking around, laughing, flying kites that were covered in extravagant designs. 

“I’m going for a walk,” Law said as he left the submarine and stretched his arms up in the air, he watched as some people ate snacks while some were walking and were just enjoying the island’s temperate weather. One thing he noticed was how no one was alone, and how everyone - except for the children of course - had exquisite, matching tattoos that covered their arms and legs, backs and necks. Anywhere there was space, unique designs covered people’s bodies and it caught Law’s attention. He started to “people watch”, he noticed how this one woman had a long, intricate dragon tattooed on her arm, and how her girlfriend had a matching one on the same arm in the exact same place. He watched as a mother and father had matching ones on their wrists, it was the same with everyone he met. Law’s curiosity soon took the better of him and he approached one of the happy couples and awkwardly looked down at them. 

“Those tattoos… where are they from?” Law asked as he pointed to the intricate ink snaking down their bodies. The woman answered for the two of them and told him about a tattoo artist who lived on this island who specialized in “Soul Tattoos.” While he got no further elaboration on that, he decided to follow the directions he was given by the polite couple and soon found himself knocking on the door of a random shop. The door soon opened and Law was greeted by something… strange, familiar. He looked down at their hands and noticed how death ran across their fingers, and how from under the collar of their shirt, he could see the start of a large tribal heart. Law brushed it off as a major coincidence as he slowly walked inside of the shop and looked down at them. 

“I saw some of your work out on the streets, it’s really well done,” Law said as he looked down at the person in front of him. 

“You did? Oh, thank you,” They smiled as they walked back into their shop and showed off some of the work they had on the walls of the shop. “I’m proud of the work I do, and especially for people like that? This? I really do enjoy it,” Law studied how their lips curved into a smile and how they parted when they let out a small breath. 

“What work are you talking about?” Law asked, he knew that they were all tattoos and he appreciated the artistry behind it, but other than that he wasn’t sure about what they were referring to. 

“I do Soul Tattoo’s they’re all about -- “ Before they were able to say more, a clock chimed behind them and they looked over at it. 

“Oh, closing time -- “ They looked over at Law and suddenly sparks coursed through their entire being. His steely eyes pierced straight into their own like a sword, their heart begin to race as they maintained eye contact with one another for a prolonged period of time. Their breathing slowed as they took in the sight of the captain in front of them. The tattoos were the first thing that caught their attention. Finally... he was here. Before they could even speak, Law looked away from them and at the door in some discomfort. 

“It’s alright, goodnight,” Law said as he went to leave the shop before he heard any objections from the person who was there. As he walked in the dimmed streets, he looked at the inky sky and couldn’t help but think about their tattoos. The knuckle tattoos were similar to his own, he glanced down and was surprised to see that it could have been the exact same thing. Death on his knuckles, the ornate tribal style tattoo heart on his chest, the more he thought about it, the more perplexed and creeped out he became. He went back to his submarine, that confused look mixed in with his usual cold look caught the eyes of some of his subordinates. Bepo looked at his captain and quickly stood up to give him a hug. 

“Captain! Welcome back!” Bepo cheered as he hugged the tall man, Law didn’t resist the hug but he didn’t hug him back either. Bepo noticed how his captain was more stone cold tonight than other nights which confused the poor bear. “Captain? Are you alright?” Bepo asked him. 

“I’m fine,” Law assured as he pulled away from his warm companion and looked up at the sky for a moment. “I met someone strange,” Law said as he studied the stars with his eyes next, the mixing of the bright white against the blueish black was a wonderful contrast. Mindless thoughts, Law was trying to distract himself again. 

“What do you mean?” Bepo decided to ask him. 

“Someone with the same tattoos as mine,” Law shared as he glanced over at Bepo. Bepo was confused too, he looked over at Penguin who was taking in the cool, night air. 

“The same as yours? That’s a little weird,” Bepo agreed, and Law was glad that he wasn’t crazy for thinking otherwise. He didn’t understand why they had the same ones as him. 

“Maybe they’re some weird follower of mine or something,” Law grumbled, that thought upset him. Bepo noticed the upset look, but he had to agree with his captain, it was strange. 

“You did gain a lot of popularity after the Doflamingo incident,” Bepo reminded him. That seemed to almost settle it for Law, he had a stalker, a fan and that made a weird chill shoot down his spine. Was that the shock he felt from earlier? No, that was more powerful, the captain stared out at the ocean with a blank, thinking expression until he heard Penguin clearing his throat to speak. 

“I don’t think it’s a weird fan,” Penguin said as he continued to relax on the deck. Bepo and Law both fell silent and looked over at Penguin for more of an explanation, one he was happy to give. “Well, I was talking to some of the locals and they told me about how people who are supposedly soulmates would have the same tattoos on their body and how they would always get big pieces so they could find them easier,” Penguin explained. Law listened to what he said and couldn’t help but think that his words were ridiculous, that story didn’t even make any sense. Soulmates? Partners for life? As if. 

“I’m going to bed,” Law simply said as he went to go to his quarters. But the seed of doubt was already planted, and as he slept, he couldn’t help but think about that possibility. 

“Marked skin… we warned you, didn’t we?” A stranger mused. 

“Yes, yes we did, we did,” Another chirped, their voice was too cheery for the grim, nightmarish atmosphere. 

“Pirates can’t have soulmates, they can’t have -- “

Law gasped, he shot out of bed and didn’t even grab his water, he grabbed his jacket and left his room to go to the hallway. He noticed that they were on land, they were still on land, this wasn’t all just a dream, he really did meet someone with the same tattoos as himself. His mind for once wasn’t able to process what he saw and he soon found himself on the deck of his submarine looking out at the blue ocean and the black sky. He stared at the scene for a minute before he looked at his knuckles. How could something so alarming, something he had that was meant to push people away be the reason he got close to someone else? It hadn’t even been a day but all Law was able to think about was their infectious smile, their incredible art… There was more that had caught his eye too, but it was too inappropriate to even say, Law was embarrassed that he was caught up in such juvenile affections. Maybe Penguin was right. Law scoffed under his breath and continued to deny the truth that was in front of his face, he was falling for them after only one day. It was such an unreasonable thought that it disturbed him, it seriously caught him off guard. How was that even possible? Was it possible to fall this hard for someone after one day? Law was slowly beginning to lose his mind. Against his better judgement, he grabbed his sword and left his submarine to go back into the dark town. As he wandered around, he noticed how the dim lights mimicked stars, and all those stars led him down a straight path towards their place. Moths were around the lights like in his dream, in fact the alley looked eerily similar. Law forced himself not to think too hard on that, after all was he even thinking? He was walking over to some stranger’s studio in the middle of the night to ask questions, none of it made sense. It was late, they wouldn’t be awake. Before Law could even knock on the door, the door opened and Law was met by their piercing eyes. 

“You’re back,” They breathed out, their voice was smooth and rich, Law felt his breath hitch in his throat when he was able to see their hand that rested on the door. There was no mistaking that their tattoos were the same as his. 

“We need to talk,” Law quickly said, they offered no objections and opened their shop up for Law to walk inside. The warm atmosphere still was present, it contrasted the typically cold submarine he lived on. His eyes scanned them over in their casual night attire and felt his heart stop, he was hyper aware of every hair on his body, the electricity that was in the room. “We have the same tattoos,” Law said as he swallowed his shock away. Don’t stare, he ordered himself, but the tension between the two of them was thick. Their batting eyelashes, their soft smile, Law felt drunk off of them already. He watched as they shifted their weight onto one hip and how they pouted as they thought about what the captain spoke to them about.

“These? I’ve always had them,” They shared as they held up their hands to show off the tattoos that decorated their skin. Next, Law watched as they pulled the collar of their shirt down to show off the top part of their tattoo, it was the same as his and it was a little unnerving to see it so perfectly replicated on their skin. Not only was Law staring at the tattoo, he was staring at their skin, he let out a small breath and did his best to dim those thoughts in his sleep deprived brain. 

“How long,”  Law asked them. 

“Always. Like ever since you got them I suppose,” They shrugged. 

“So you know?” Law asked. 

“I’m not stupid, I know who you are, Trafalgar Law,” they said as they poked a finger at his built chest. The captain staggered back and frowned down at the person in front of him. “I’ve known it was you for a long time, I was just waiting for you to come and find me.”

“You sound like you’re just some fan,” Law stated with a small scowl on his face, he didn’t like the arrogance they were presenting. 

“Don’t test me, Law,” They snarled back as they grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pushed him against the wall. Their hips met his as they got closer to glare at him. They weren’t aware of how close they were and how this proximity was slowly getting to Law’s head. Law decided to toss all sense of reason out, why should he care? His mind was swarming and he needed release desperately. 

“Oh yeah?” Law smirked, he looked down at where their bodies were touching and then back into their eyes. And just like he predicted, they gasped and tried to step back from him, but Law wouldn’t allow that. Law grabbed them by their hips and tsked when he saw their face slowly going red. “What happened to all that confidence from earlier, hm?” He purred into their ear, his large, calloused hand groped their rear and he chuckled at the gasp that escaped from their lips. 

“You’re such an ass!” They gasped, while they wanted to sound menacing, it didn’t seem to be working, Law was proving to be in control of the situation as of now, but it was clear that they were enjoying Law’s teasing. 

“I think you like me like this,” Law teased as his hand slipped under the back of their shirt. His fingers dragged up their spine and he drank in their heated expression. “How long did you fantasize about this?” Law asked as he pulled them back to look them in the eyes with an arrogant smirk on his face.

“I-I don’t -- “

“Lying? Oh my, are you sure you want to be doing that now?” Law asked as his free hand wandered down to their pants. He watched as their face contorted with need and want, but Law knew he had to resist for now no matter how tempting they were to him. He let out a small sigh and reluctantly pulled away from them, he watched as their expression contorted to dismay but he knew he needed to stop, he had to remember the gravity of his situation, their situation. 

“Did you think about what you were going to do once you found me?” Law decided to ask.

“It’s obvious, don’t you think? Go on your ship, er - submarine. I want to travel the world and see all the art that exists, and I also want to get to know you more,” They said before their eyes scanned over Law’s built figure, there would for sure be a lot to explore later on for sure. 

“What about your shop?” Law asked them. He watched as their lips curled into a small smirk and Law nearly felt his heart stop again. 

“I’ll bring it with me, I’ll travel and help other’s find their soulmates with my tattoos. Those who already needed my services here had me, I’m not needed here anymore,” they shared to the captain. There was suddenly silence as the two of them stared into each other’s eyes. 

“Then come with me,” Being this impulsive wasn’t usually Law’s forte, but with an opportunity like this, he knew he had to live it to the best of his ability. He was surprised to see how they grabbed his hand without any hesitation and smiled. 

“Let me lock up my shop,” They said before their adventure with Law began. All Law could recall was holding their hand, running through the dark streets and stopping here and there to fiercely kiss them in dark alleys on their way to the submarine. He remembered taking them to the submarine, dragging them to his room and the sound of clothes hitting the ground. Lips, hands, warm skin touching one another and soft sounds throughout the rest of the night. When Law woke up in the morning, his head felt empty, he was relaxed for once, he didn’t have another nightmare. That surprised him, were they the answer to his nightmares? The room seemed lighter, he was amazed with himself by how he just followed his heart like that. When he looked over to his side, he saw them sleeping next to him and he found himself softly smiling. He leaned in and kissed their shoulder and watched them stir in their sleep. This wasn’t what he had planned at all for his trip here, but he was pleasantly surprised with himself, affection always sprung up from the most unexpected places, didn’t it? Even if his tattoos didn’t age well and wrinkled into his skin when he was older, he knew that they both would age well by growing with one another, and that was enough for Law.

[asterekmess]

Scott McCall is the poster boy for entitlement, misogyny and toxic masculinity. Remember when he demanded that Allison goes out with her stalker (Matt) and then yelled at her in the middle of a crowded club because she had the audacity to trust her own father to save Jackson instead of obeying him? Or when Scott pinned Allison against her bedroom’s door and humiliated her just to prove how ‘weak’ and ‘fragile’ she was and because “If I’m scared shitless, then you should be scared shitless too”?

I told my friend Mads a long time ago that with every new fic I put out, my urge to become, if not popular, then just understood as an anti-scott blog got stronger. I mean, it’s not like I want my blog to just be about hating Scoot, but I didn’t really want people to come in and follow me thinking I was a Scott fan, because it would be disingenuous.

I think I got my wish? Either one person has a lot of feelings (which I’m all for) or a bunch of v angry anti-scott people have swarmed over me like hummingbirds on sugar water. It’s a really interesting experience!

Anyway, back to your ask. So, I don’t like Scott, and admittedly sometimes I’m a little extra bitter/hateful than others, but I do try to be accurate in my dislikes of him (usually), so I’ll go through what you said one at a time and try to decipher (from my v faulty memory, so apologies if there are mistakes) if I agree with each statement.

Since some people have requested the Read More thing so they can scroll easier.

Scott is: Entitled. Off the cuff, I would agree. I’ve mentioned before how frustrating it was to see the show attempt to portray him as a poor kid, when he’s nowhere near that. I’ve also seen posts before that explore how Scott doesn’t carry a ‘poor kid’ mentality at all (they probably did it better than me, and it was probably Athenadark who did the analyzing). Growing up, I didn’t consciously know I was poor. Not as in ‘i had everything I needed’ but as in “i assumed all kids grew up occasionally eating a single can of pears for dinner or had to return groceries from the car because their parent’s card was declined and they were out of food stamps or wore a pair of tennis shoes until they were literally taped together with packing tape because we couldn’t afford new ones.” I grew up in a poor town, on the poor side of that town, so there wasn’t a lot that showed me it was possible to live differently. Being poor gives you a specific mentality, and when I finally met kids who were ‘middle class’ I was blown away by the differences. I say all this because Scott is very clearly a middle class kid.

Yes, he has an after school job. Who tf didn’t? That doesn’t automatically make you poor? Even my rich friend got a summer job because she wanted to buy band merch and her parents wouldn’t let her. But have you seen his room? It’s a wreck. We get the scene of him digging under his bed trying to find his phone, and I honestly was kinda disgusted. (I also grew up in a hellhole hoarder house, so clutter fucks me up) It’s not just the messiness though. It’s finding out that his mom is the one doing the laundry. Melissa “One shift won’t break us completely” McCall still cleans her son’s room and does his laundry and sews his clothes even though she’s supposed to be working herself to death at the hospital. Oh, and he’s sixteen years old, so he should be able to do his own fucking laundry? it’s one thing if his stuff ends up there while she’s doing laundry, but apparently she goes out of her way to do his clothes regularly enough that she has no qualms about going in his room to clean? Scott works at a VET’s office and has for long enough that he can put a cast on a dog and feels confident giving it painkillers in the right dosage. And he can’t sew a line of stitches in his clothes? He’s got an ensuite bathroom. His room is clearly the master bedroom. He doesn’t make his mom dinner to bring her, he picks up chinese. And there’s the house itself and its size, etc. Of the two of them, i would’ve expected Stiles to have the messy room. He’s adhd, I know how hard it is to keep a room clean with that kind of headspace. But no, his is really clean most of the time, even his desk, unless he’s researching something specific. I mention Stiles because it’s the comparison of the two that makes Scott’s own messiness stand out. Hell, literally no other bedroom we’re shown is messy in the slightest. Allison’s, Lydia’s, Jackson’s, none of them. (I don’t remember Liam’s room, if we saw it) He feels entitled enough to take up extra space and add extra work to his mother’s stress level (which, listen, I’m not saying being not-poor makes you entitled. I’m saying that the show makes the claim Scott IS poor and he Still does these things. THAT is the entitled part.)

Then there’s his relationship with Stiles. “Yeah, but I had you before.” When talking about the good and bad things in his life, he doesn’t even think to mention Stiles as one of the good things. He says he has nothing, just like before. Stiles isn’t even on his radar, even though they’re looking right at each other. Yet we know that Stiles is basically Scott’s only friend. As someone else with very few friends, I can’t imagine saying to my best friend’s face that I have nothing and no one. Let alone if that friend had been keeping me from dying and teaching me how to be a fucking werewolf for months on end. When do we see him worry about Stiles being human and stuck in the middle of all this? Especially in earlier seasons, we never see him say anything like “maybe you should hang back cus’ you’ll get hurt.” Like, we know that Stiles would do it anyway. And we’d get pissed if Scott told Stiles he wasn’t allowed to help because he was human, but that’s because Scott doesn’t get to tell Stiles what to do. We know Stiles finds ways to protect himself when he has to, but Scott never even asks. He never hints at “I’m worried about you and please know I wont’ be mad if you stay away from the fight.” Even Derek shoves Stiles behind him when the kanima shows up. There’s the thing where he warns them ‘if something goes wrong call for me.” But he explicity says that worry is for Allison, even though she has some method of self-defense. Stiles has nothing. Scott never cares enough to think “Maybe we shouldn’t bring him to the rave where there’s gonna be a vicious killing machine that has already tried to attack him once.” One word from Peter “vulnerable” and Scott stalks Allison (and forces Stiles to help him) for a week. But Stiles gets trapped in a pool for hours, scared out of his mind, and Scott never so much as seems to get clingy? He just assumes Stiles will be fine. He feels entitled to Stiles’ help and assistance, without putting any thought into Stiles’ safety. He asks “is it illegal?” not “Will you get in trouble?” He looks at Stiles when he says “I can’t protect anyone” But when was he trying to protect STILES?  Then there’s the part where while he’s ‘under the influence of the wolfsbane whistle’ (A plot point I fucking hate) he drags Stiles down with him and includes him in being nothing. Being no one. He assumes that if he was nothing before the bite, then Stiles must’ve been nothing also. And since Stiles didn’t get bitten, it also implies that Stiles is still nothing. He’s just hanging on Scott’s wolfy coattails. That’s an incredibly entitled viewpoint to have.

Admittedly, we do see some more humble moments with Allison, especially at the beginning of their relationship, where he says “I just wanna make sure I get my second chance” he’s not assuming he’ll get it. Go scott! (I’m not the hugest fan of him asking her out after he’s clearly just done her a massive favor and is keeping her from getting in trouble for hitting a dog, and she’s wearing his SHIRT and she can’t really say no without looking absolutely horrible, but she seemed pretty into him, so I’ll let it go) But once they’re together? I know that most best friends share secrets and private stuff with each other...but Scott tells Stiles so much about his sex life with Allison that Stiles is actually pissed off and kind of disgusted by it. Stiles. Who is supposed to be sex obsessed. Even he thinks that it’s just way too much information. I can’t imagine Allison would be comfortable with Stiles knowing that much about her in bed. (But at the same time, we see Scott tell Stiles that he never wants any more info on Stiles in bed than Stiles’ vague innuendo abt wet dreams, and then he still feels entitled to tell Stiles whatever he wants about him and Allison and won’t listen when Stiles asks him to stop.) When he asks Allison to go out with someone else, there’s so much that makes me both sad and angry. She is confused and scared, and has clearly committed really hard to Scott (enough to go against everything her family wants) and he tells her to go on a date with someone else. Not just that, but to kiss someone else. To kiss Matt, specifically, whom he knows Stiles thinks is really fucking creepy (though, we need to acknowledge that no one knew Matt was stalking Allison.) And she tries to show him that he’s asking for something really fucking weird and uncomfortable. “Kiss him? You mean, like really kiss him?” And even then, he doesn’t think anything is weird about telling his girlfriend (and they are clearly v monogamous. We see how insanely possessive he is of her, losing his shit when she’s just introduced to other guys Lydia knows, after only one date that he bailed from) to kiss someone else, but not kiss them the way she kisses him. He doesn’t ask for any info about the date, doesn’t ask if Allison’s uncomfortable. He just says “Do it.” and expects her to obey. He feel entitled to controlling who she’s with and what she does, without asking her if she’s okay with it. Because I haven’t seen later seasons in a long time, I usually try to stick to the earlier stuff so I’m less likely to say something stupid, but I do remember him scaring her in her bedroom. There’s a lot about that scene to unpack, but in the case of Allison specifically, we see that he still feels entitled to touch her. They are not friends right now. She has not given any hint that she wants to get back together (except asking to talk to him in ep.1). He should not feel like it is in any way okay to touch her at all, let alone hold her still with super strength. But he does. In his mind. She’s Allison, so why wouldn’t he able to touch her?

He also feels entitled to his leadership. We need to make clear that Scott doesn’t do the leadership stuff. He just happens to be the person in the friend group who’s a werewolf. Stiles and Jackson are the ones who go and set Peter on fire after they can’t get ahold of Scott (WHO IS NOW WITH DEREK, and THEREFORE HAS HIS PHONE). (You’re telling me Scott could’ve done the howl thing at any time to find Derek, and he just left him there for a week?) (Also, yes, I know Stiles was also not involved in helping find Derek until Peter made him. I’m annoyed at him too.) What is leadership-worthy about leaving a tortured man on a grate with electric wires plugged into his side and shackles on his wrists until he agrees to help you kill his own uncle (Oh, also, I have Peter feelings and have salty thoughts about the plot of s1, if anyone’s interested)? But let’s say Scott’s leadership comes in Season 2, not at the end of S1. But when exactly does he earn it? When he tells a teenage girl he doesn’t care about the humiliation and pain that led her to taking a bite that would cure her lifelong illness and give her a friend group that she didn’t have to be afraid of or bullied by? When he called a boy who looked him in the eyes and begged for him to keep his wolf secret “Bloodthirsty”? When he dismissed Boyd’s want for the bite, which was a way for him to make friends and feel like he belonged somewhere, as ridiculous? When he damaged Boyd’s workplace in a way that would almost certainly get Boyd in trouble? (You think smashing a massive crater into the middle of the ice rink with his fist didn’t get Boyd yelled at or maybe even fired?) When Boyd asked to talk to him on the field, and Scott attacked without rhyme or reason? When he let Erica sit and seize while he fussed over Allison? “This doesn’t Feel right” really Scott? You know, I think Erica, who’s having a fucking seizure in the next aisle, would agree! Hurry the fuck up! Oh my god, I went so off track. I have more thoughts on all that though, if anyone’s curious. Anyway. Scott doesn’t do anything that actually entails being a leader. His one job in the rave, he passes off to Isaac so that he can go call Gerard, because he’s currently working with the villain behind everyone’s back. The whole thing with Allison telling her parents and the plan with Derek getting messed up? Yeah, that was Scott’s fault for not telling her. Hell, for not telling GERARD. He, what he expected her to read his mind? Scott knew Allison was telling her parents about Jackson! She said she would tell them after he broke out of the van! The entire fuckup is his fault. But he still shouts at her and blames her and says she should’ve ‘trusted’ him. He passes all the guilt onto her and leaves her there on the verge of tears. He’s entitled to her obedience and he’s entitled to shaming her and scolding her like a child when she doesn’t do what he wants.

So, yeah, I think Scott’s entitled.

Scott is: Misogynistic. This one...I’m not so sure? Scott has a lot of bad qualities, a lot of behavior that’s incredibly toxic and manipulative, but I can honestly say that I can’t think of a single time when his reasoning for not letting/not thinking someone is capable of doing something is because they’re female?

There’s a lot to be said about the manipulative way that he speaks to and interacts with his girlfriends, but that doesn’t stem from misogyny, from what I can see. It stems from everything else. From his self-obsession, from his moral code, from his honest belief that he deserves obedience and complete candor from those closest to him. He does this to everyone, not just the women. It’s just easier to see it with the women because we’re primed to look for it. (I’m making the assumption here that you are female/feminine presenting, anon, since I know that the vast majority of the fandom is, but if I’m wrong, my apologies) Wow, though I’d have more to say on this bit, but I don’t.

Scott is: Toxicly Masculine. I’m not sure where I lay on this idea. Teen Wolf does have a lot of general instances of toxic masculinity, and Scott does exhibit some of them, but again, part of those behaviors can be found in women as well.

I know that it regularly pissed me off how often they reduced men to sex machines. *Scott and Allison are making out on Allison’s bed* Scott: “I don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.” Allison: “I’m not doing anything I don’t wanna do. Are you?” Scott (incredulous): “Are you seriously asking me that question?”

*Stiles and Heather are talking about having sex at the party* Heather: “I mean, would you be okay with that?” Stiles (gently mocking): “Would I be okay with that? Yes, yes, I believe so.” They go out of their way to completely negate the possibility that a guy wouldn’t be into sex, even making the concept of asking for a man’s consent sound silly. This becomes even more toxic when Stiles complains about Malia leaving marks on him, hurting him during sex, and he gets teased for it. No one considers it a problem that Malia is scratching him. He’s expected to be appreciative of it/like it.

There’s the possessiveness, yes. Scott does some really fucked up, possessive things. Like freaking on Allison when Lydia introduces her to other guys, or getting angry from the sidelines just because Jackson is talking to Allison, not even flirting with her. Or running off to attack Jackson AND Allison (because there’s no proof he was only going after Jackson, and he’s only ever been able to follow allison’s scent across town, so he couldn’t have specifically been looking for Jackson) after she broke up with him. Throwing Isaac into a wall for liking Allison, even though they’ve been broken up for FOUR MONTHS. I can’t think of any more at the moment. But it’s a lot. BUT. We also see possessive behavior from Malia (yeah, she was an actual coyote for years, but she’s still a woman.) and similar amounts of aggression throughout the seasons from most of the shifters, implying that the habit is born from the werewolf/shifter thing, and not specifically Scott being toxicly masculine. (It’s still not good, but it’s not technically toxic masculinity.)

Aggression I think we can all agree is a shifter-wide phenomenon.

So, yeah, there’s instances that come across this way, and there’s also evidence that some of it is werewolf related, not scott related. I’m torn.

Anyway, again, I’ve talked way too much. If there are moments from later in the show that I’m missing that specifically prove/disprove these points, I’d love to know about it and check it out! I feel you Anon, Scott is infuriating and you’re in good company. <3

[currentfandomkick]

Bio! Dad Strange part 4

Shorter but a paris update for her life and a little on gotham with Jason as Robin while Tim is a hero Stalker.

Marinette is 7 when she changes schools, ordered into the Dupont school chain by her teachers since she was getting ‘difficult’ and contradicting their ciriculum. When they challeneged her on this, she went to the school board with Rolland beside her of all people.

The board agreed on one thing, Marinette’s contradictions were not only factually correct, but were done to prevent the outdated ciriculum from hurting her classmates. Instead of punishing her, she got to skip a gade and was given to Dupont as a ‘highly reccomended gifted student’.

Her first day she met Max, who also skipped a grade. The pair bond in five seconds over a new programming focused on learning emotional intelligence. Uncle Riddler was showing her it, and Max got his hands on a various ai bases. This led to then teaming up and designing the one and only Markov together, if only in schematics.

A week in and the two notice that some kids are being followed around by a guy with a bat. They report it. Again and again, but no one can find him.

One day he catches the pair on their way to Max’s—they wanted to work on their ai together, ok? The guy tries to hit Max, saying something about them being lucky metas that needed to suffer.

Marinette’s gotham training kicked in. She caught the bat, ripped it away from him and hit him in the chest with it, while yelling at max to run.

At the end of the incident, videotaped by a bystander, the Dupont Stalker was arrested.

Marinette was given another name by the police, ‘fille de batte’ or bat girl. Her having family in gotham only made the nickname more popular.

This put her on Kim and Alix’s radar. Kim wanted a challenge for fighting and competitions, and this tiny kid did that—to an adult! New friend and rival!

Alix was went from shock to joy as Marientte does art. She does art. Art friend to rant to found!

Nino ran into Marinette not long after Kim and Alix attached themselves to her and Max. Nino became their judge for Kim challenges. Including Mari pinning Kim to the mat, or deciding who did a circus move better (Mari won acrobatics).

Chloe doesnt go to dupont until next year, and sabrina is in another class, mildly concerned for Marinette.

In this au, again, Dupont is considered a ‘i would not be shocked if there were metas there’ school for gifted kids in any way.

Marinette is sent there for her insane science obsession at the time, but is also put in their arts program with Alix to develop as an artist with her medium, fabrics and fashion.

And if marinette redesigns hero outfits as “monsiuer ross, scribbles have more style, let alone fashion sense” alot, well. Kids get obsessed a lot and the Justice League is a common one, as are known villians. Her everyday outfits having different hero schemes—oddly enough some forensic scientist she’s obsessed with from some american city ended up in her mix—well. She’s a kid and showing signs a few types of anxiety.

Possible social and OCD and a developing case of perfectionism common to the arts program. The school has her see a therapist and know she isnt telling them everything beyong mild concern for her gotham family, and confusion over people just ‘not getting things’ as she is terribly smart and good at finding patterns and how do people not see it?

By the end of the year Marinette is in a strong friend group who’s parents and hers have decided to have joint custody during the school year.

She was now (forced) to learn vietnamese from Kim’s Grandparents, italian from Rolland (her nonno that has a Thing for tradition and somehow married Gina and raised Tom mostly on his own while running the bakery to boot), english from Father/Strange, Mandarin from her Maman and she started Arabic to talk with Nino’s aunt who kept saying marinette was her future in-law and point out that nino and her are friends, not dating ma’am.

However, Nino endured most of this with her-not the italian or Mandarin, but the others. Kim couldnt get Arabic but mandarin was a breeze for him. Alix cannot get vietnamese or arabic but Mandarin is her jam after french. Max just speaks french and english, he understands the others he just cant get the sounds right, ok?

When Marinette goes back to Gotham that summer, she ends up dealing with Hero Stalker Tim (jason is robin now) while looking for Red Hoodie who No oNE is telling her what happened and she’s worried, ok?

Tim feeds her obbsession with fixing problems. He sometimes sends her building layouts of places Catwoman stole from. And then the jewlry reappears thanks to a nervous Marinette coached by Rose and Ghoul while Frost handles her post-fix it freak out. Tim also may or may not get helped by her alot during Batman Stalking Time as she teaches his butt how to sneak and complains he’s worse than penguin.

Tim hates that, works on it, and still has nonidea who she is. He does admit to figuring out who batman may be, but needs more evidence so...

Marinette hits him becuase “thats dangerous!” And tries to lecture him in identites.

Batman’s radiowave was used for said lecture.

“And it puts their families in danger you, uh, hero stalker! And stuff so no more identity investigations!”

“They have the same builds, and did signsture moves from—“ the signal cutout.

He and Jason are more careful... ish. They change channels and monitor the old one.

Sometimes Batman catches Marinette and Tim talking about coldcases and she has asked three times if he heard anything about Jason’s street kid identity. Jason is feeling guilty about this as she’s his Pixie Pop. This lets Bruce know that the probably-clark’s-kid would keep Jason away from GCPD and CPS.

When a convo leads to Batman finding out Tim and Marinette have considered asking the police for help with a case of medicine that needed to be recalled as it was beign used to mule drugs contaminated the batches and hurt patients, but turned it down after she saw some taking bribes from Fish, Batman lets Gordon know and an investigation is launched.

While Bats is away, Jason visits marinette as Robin and tries to get her to bats for more information and a lecture on heroing without adult supervision. Maybe.

Only she’s currently stealing from a sleeping selina at another HQ. A Selina who has stopped trying to stop marinette and let riddler turn her house into one of his ‘traps’ to stop Marinette’s ‘return theiving’.

Jason gets stuck in a trap. Marinette is gone by then, scared Robin will tell Superman about her and he’ll hurt her family or something.

Catwoman is annoyed at Marinette’s sucess. She goes to stop the girl after leaving him tied up for Batman with a message: leave her new kitten-to-be alone.

Follow up talk post-Caught Marinette reverse theiving.

“Blame the Council’s decrees. She’s their little princess, and my new neice,” Catwoman watched Batman carefully.

Confused Batman in interrogator mode. “You mean the Court of Owls, arent they disbanded?”

“Bats, the council is gotham’s underground. Apparently Two-Face made the contracts as penance for scaring the Princess during a breakout. Unless you want an organized attack by the council, steer clear of her.”

Batman conencts the dots and curses himself. The girl he was looking for last summer is the Princess of Gotham’s underground. It will be hell finding her. And Superman/Clark will lose it when he’s told.

He lets the JL know about it, saying ‘possibly kyptonian clone, female child. Gotham’s underground is calling her their Princess. Connor and Kidflash tailed her last summer during the arkham breakout while Robin was with the Titans. Be alert for a small asian girl.’

That was how Marinette ended up on the JL watch list and how Superman had another existential crisis.

Dick freaks out with the Titans over this. Becuase kyltonian raised by villians is terrifying. Jason forwarded the message and adds on “she’s a good kid and wants to help. Somehow keeps zsasz and joker from killing people, so its not good to take her away or issolate her from the villians if you find her. From what i remember, she is terrified of her family beign put in danger. The others wont listen to me. If you can, pass this along to the other sidekicks and your allies—none of them trust me enough to listen. I cant talk to her as a civilian like i used to either for obvious reasons. And she’s terrified of me-Robin. Maybe you can get through to her, or someone else can. Just talk to her first, she’s more reasonsble than she looks”

Dick doesnt read the add on until much later and regrets it.

He met marinette once. She was a very excited kid babbling about aerodynamics in acrobatics and asking about that. Not hero things, not power things, or justice league but That.

He tried to be nice but he was having a horrible mission, saw the girl floating as she rambled and tried to grab her.

She freaked out and bolted, sort of. He got slammed into a building, or would have had she not caught him, rambled in french while trying to apologize (he was a but stunned from the throw, and rebooting as villian-kyptonian was... nice?) and put him on the roof, hit his communicator and said one thing.

“I think i broke your robin? All are robins like bird bones or something?”

He regained a functioning brain as that. That was something he could respond to.

“I am human thank you!”

That seemed to be enough for her as he moved to get up. She waved bye and bolted, something about Rose being mad at her for being late...

“Titans. I think we might have been wrong about the kid...”

Later with Young Justice the info was passed on.

Jason asked if anyone read his attachment and was met with silence. He groaned and told them “so another team she’s going to avoid... great.”

Marinette added the titans to her list of ‘people to aviod—tetch and Jerimah were the worst. Luthor and Cadmus were under them. Then the entire Justice League (they would tell batman or superman. Snitches.), followed by GCPD, CPS, the Bat Family and now Titans. She wonders if she needs to add anyone else, and hates that she cant talk to heroes. They could help with controlling her powers instead of suppressing them but she cant trust them not to give her to superman like batman did with Rose to Poison Ivy and she’s pretty sure Superboy too.

Next time, times marinette accidently put together identities and curses Hero Stalker Tim for her now knowing.

[seeaddywrite]

safe places

a/n: written for RNM Week Day One: When We Were Young. It kind of got confused with the Day Two Prompt, which is family, but whatever. Maybe I’ll post something else tomorrow. Maybe I’ll fail. Who knows? 

Gen. Isobel & Michael as children & teenagers, & what their relationship might have looked like. 

Michael grows up in isolation.

At first, it’s because the only other children he wants near him are the ones he’d been torn from when he was moved to Albuquerque, and the only adult welcome in his personal space is the shadowy, quickly-fading image of blonde hair and a soft voice.

It gets easier when he’s sent back to Roswell; Isobel finds him in the first ten minutes after he sets foot within town limits. She ignores the frantic yells from her mother and shrugs off her father’s gentle grip to run across the busy street and wrap Michael in the first hug he’s had since leaving her. He doesn’t see her until there are arms around his neck, and then she’s little more than a flash of yellow and pink in his peripheral vision. It should have startled him, Michael thinks, but even at that age, he would have recognized Isobel with his eyes closed from miles away. 

“You’re home, you’re home, you’re here,” his sister’s young voice sobs in his ear, and even then, there’s a part of Michael’s heart that whispers Roswell isn’t home, no matter how good it feels to hide his face in Isobel’s shoulder. He lets her rub his back as he fights back his own tears and smiles shakily when they’re finally pulled apart. 

There are introductions between parents and social worker, and another tearful embrace when Max appears, panting hard, from where he’d run over two miles when Michael’s mind registered in his own for the first time in years. The three of them cling to each other’s hands, Max with a too-serious expression for a ten year old boy, and Isobel with a sharp glare for the social worker who’d accompanied Michael and kept trying to take him away. Looking back, Michael knows she’d been flexing her mental muscles; there’s no way that crotchety old woman would have let Michael stay at the Crashdown Diner with them for three hours on her own. 

The feeling of connection is what’s been missing for the last three years of Michael’s life, and though Isobel and Max had each other, he thinks they feel the same -- they all get so caught up in it that they forget to talk, passing vague thoughts and feelings back and forth with the physical contact they can’t bring themselves to break. Michael basks in the unmasked affection from the other two and ignores the strange looks from everyone else in the little diner as he shovels fries in his mouth and lets himself relax into the feeling of belonging, that ease of connection, that comes from being with people who see him. 

Somehow, he ends up spending that first night back in Roswell tucked between Max and Isobel in a ridiculously large, decadent bed in Max’s room. He never asks how the other two convinced the parents that had looked at Michael and found him wanting, worthy of being left behind, that he was welcome in their home. He knows that Isobel’s powers are involved, when it comes to the social worker, but not even Max says anything about the risk. 

But it’s Isobel that falls asleep clutching Michael’s hand. Isobel, who wakes up in the middle of the night to hug him when Michael wakes up shaking, afraid he’s being left behind again. Isobel, who pushes her plate of pancakes toward him across the kitchen table the next morning when he finishes his own and is obviously still hungry. Isobel, who hugs him tightly at school the next day while Max hangs back, uncertain of whether they should admit to their connection so openly. 

And as life goes on, it’s Isobel who Michael comes to depend on the most for that sense of belonging when things get hard.

                                                                  ******

Most nights, when Michael can’t stand to stay at the foster home any longer, he climbs in through Max’s bedroom window in the Evans home. At sixteen, Max has become adept at fixing broken bones and various other wounds, and his healing hands are always warm and steady on Michael’s shoulders, even as he lectures Michael of the importance of flying under the radar. But on the worst days, on days like today, when he’s not hurt physically but so worn mentally that all he can hear is the insistence that he’s a useless fucking freak in his foster father’s drunken slurs, Max’s lectures and reminders about keeping their secret grate on his fragile nerves. The insination that Michael’s done something wrong to bring this on himself gets under his skin and makes him twitch with restlessness and defensive anger that leads to harsh words and fighting that neither boy really wants. Those nights, Michael bypasses his window for its smaller, decidedly more pink, neighbor.

Tonight, it’s late enough that Isobel is in her pajamas, her face pink and free of the make-up she’s recently been allowed to start wearing. Michael hovers in the window for a moment, appreciating the glimpse of the sister he knows best; the perfectly put-together Ice Queen persona is one that she’s adopted to fit in, and Michael loves her no matter what masks she wears, but that doesn’t mean he can’t appreciate when she lets her guard down. It’s an intimacy that he doesn’t often have a chance to enjoy, and it makes him feel special, since he knows that he and Max are the only people who are allowed to know the true Isobel. 

“I know Edward Cullen and his creepy, stalker-like tendencies are in right now, but please stop lurking in my window. I don’t find it nearly as endearing as Bella does.” Isobel isn’t even looking at him, yet; her eyes are focused on the textbook open on her desk and her back is toward him, but Michael knows he has her full attention. She’d probably felt him long before he started the ascent up the side of the house -- unlike Max, it’s hard to keep her out of his head. Michael’s managed to keep the worst and most painful realities of his life to himself out of sheer desperation to protect her from it, but otherwise, he knows that Isobel reads his feelings almost as if they’re printed on his skin. 

On a better day, Michael would have smirked and tossed a snarky comment right back. Tonight, he just slides from the window and enters the room, trying to feel like he belongs on the soft, beige carpet. Like Isobel, her bedroom is perfectly organized and aesthetically pleasing -- it’s done in pale pinks and creams, and gives off the feeling that a grease stain or a fleck of dust would result in immediate annihilation for the culprit. But Michael’s been working in a garage for the last year, and the only decent pair of jeans he owns are stained with grease, and his hoodie is far from clean. It’s nothing new, and Isobel never seems to mind, but he can’t help but feel out of place in her home. 

“Hey.” There’s a soft palm on his hand, and Michael finds himself being led toward the bed by his determined sister. It doesn’t occur to him to pull away or flinch at the touch, like he would have had it come from anyone else. He just follows, lost in the noise in his head, and lets her push him down on the cream-colored comforter, legs dangling over the side. She sits right next to him, the sides of their bodies pressed together from shoulder to ankle, and rests her head on his shoulder. 

Isobel’s as quiet as he is, waiting for him to sift through the chaos to choose the right words to explain his presence. Talking has never been easy for Michael; he, more than Max and Isobel, had struggled to understand the necessity of speaking aloud when the only people he wanted to communicate with could understand him without words. And when he was taken from them, no one cared about what he had to say, anyway. 

“Are you staying here tonight?” she asks finally, though there’s something in the tone of the question that suggests she’ll sit on him if Michael dares to say ‘no.’ He’s familiar with that, though -- Isobel likes to have her family close, and would probably have slid into her parents’ minds and made them think they adopted Michael, too, if it wouldn’t have attracted too much attention in their nosy small town. Familiar resentment bubbles in his chest, and he does his best to ignore it; the last thing he wants right now is for that old jealousy and anger to add to the ruckus in his head. 

“Michael?” It takes Isobel’s prompting to make him realize he never answered her question, and he nods, shifting back so that her head slides off of his shoulder. He faces her and smiles, touching her bare knee to send a pulse of reassurance through their connection. There’s a moment where she just looks at him, scrutinizing his entire form closely. She’s checking for injuries, he knows, trying to ascertain that there’s no reason to call Max into the room. Both of them lean heavily on Max’s strength and bull-headed determination to make them feel safe, sometimes, but there’s no denying the fact that he can be a bull in a china shop when it comes to feelings and fragile moments. 

“Okay. Let me go get some of Max’s sweats from the laundry, then, because you are absolutely not sharing my bed in those jeans,” Isobel says with an affected sniff, but takes any sting out of the words by ruffling his curls affectionately as she leaves the room. He takes the moment of silence to relax, forcibly reminding himself that no one’s going to enter this room and yell at him or do anything to hurt him -- and honestly, Michael would almost like to see them try with Isobel standing guard. He has no doubt that in a stand-off between the drunken man he’s currently living with and his sister, Isobel would be the obvious winner long before her powers became part of the equation. 

“Say the word and he’ll be halfway to Canada before he even realizes he’s left town,” Isobel says, breezing back into the room with a pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt under her arm. It takes him aback, a little, that she’d heard so much of his train of thought, and instinctively, he retreats behind his mental walls. “Or I could make him take a swing at the Sheriff or something big and obvious and stupid that gets him sent to jail. Or --” 

“Isobel.” Michael’s voice is hoarse from disuse, but he knows he’s conveyed his irritation well enough by the way she scowls at him. “He’s what’s keeping me in Roswell, remember? He disappears, I get sent to the next available placement, and that could be anywhere.” It’s his greatest fear, getting dragged out of Roswell a second time, away from the closest thing to family that he’s got. It had been hell as a child, but now, after years of having Isobel and Max to run to when he couldn’t handle life on his own, he doesn’t think he could do it again. 

And, more importantly, he doesn’t want to try. 

“Hank’s not that bad. Most of the time he leaves me alone. He was just in a shit mood tonight; he didn’t hit me or anything, okay? Don’t look at me like that.” As always, it gets easier to talk the more he does it, and he doesn’t have to rely on his negligible ability to communicate mind-to-mind to reassure Isobel, this time. Instead, he leans forward and snags the clothes from her hands, smiles at her, and goes to the ensuite bathroom to change. He leaves his dirty clothes in a pile on her floor, knowing she’ll throw a fit when she sees it, and goes back out sit cross-legged on the floor with his back against the shelves beneath her desk.

There’s a stack of his own books on the bottom shelf, along with his meticulous notes from chemistry -- he’s supposedly too young to be enrolled in that particular course, but his last science teacher had written him a recommendation, and Michael is determined not to waste that opportunity. He knows that a lot of doors won’t be open to him in the future because of his background and lack of finances, and he refuses to lose whatever chance he has at a real future. Taking notes and homework to Hank’s is asking for them to be torn, spilled on, or otherwise destroyed, so Isobel takes his books home with her at night. 

Isobel is frowning at him from the bed, her mouth pinched with frustrated helplessness. It’s an expression he’s intimately familiar with; it appears every time Michael’s living situation comes up in conversation. She doesn’t know some of the worst parts of his previous placements, but it’s impossible to keep her out of everything now that they’re able to spend more time together. If there’s one thing that makes Michael feel guilty in his life, it’s upsetting Isobel -- but there’s not much he can do about this one aside from distraction. So he lifts an eyebrow and waves his textbook at her pointedly. “You’ve got homework, young lady,” he teases, imitating the high-pitched, crackling voice of their least favorite Social Studies teacher from the year before. “Do you want to wind up serving coffee at the local greasy spoon?” 

One perfectly shaped blonde eyebrow arches, and Isobel tosses one of her decorative pillows at Michael. He tosses it back with a squint of his eyes and without using his hands. It smacks into Isobel’s face with a flurry of downy feathers, and the pitying expression Michael hates so much is quickly replaced with one that could curdle milk all on its own. He grins, his discontent forgotten as Isobel grabs the pillow and stalks toward him to bop him over the head with it. Michael lets her have the shot, then wiggles the chemistry book at her again. “Seriously. I’ve gotta do homework, and so do you. Max says you’re failing English, and if I have to listen to him complain about your mom asking him to tutor you ever again, I’m going to lose my freaking mind.”

Isobel groans, and flops gracelessly into her desk chair. “Every single book they assign is written by some misogynistic asshole from the eighteen hundreds who thinks that women should all be married off and barefoot and pregnant for the best years of their lives. It’s not my fault that my teacher doesn’t like it when I challenge his sexism. Wyatt Long got an A on the last paper, and he only wrote like, three sentences. I wrote eight pages on toxic masculinity in British Literature, and I failed?” She shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest, scowling at the book on her desk. 

The conversation turns to school, to the courses they want to take next year and the fact that if Max doesn’t ask Liz Ortecho out soon, he’s likely to actually explode from unresolved sexual tension. Michael’s mood when he first arrived is pushed aside, as it always is, and he relaxes into the familiarity of bantering with Isobel. As the evening wears on, he finds himself leaning against her thigh as he makes notes on the Chemistry reading, and the fingers of her free hand drum gently on the top of his head and toy idly with his curls as she forges her way through yet another anthology of British short stories the literary world has deemed all-important for students to know. It’s not perfect; there’s too much that’s not being said, too much they’re pushing aside and pretending that it doesn’t exist. It’s creating a wall between them, one that will eventually start to cause real problems in their relationship. 

But for now, Michael is warm and safe, and Isobel’s steady presence radiates contentment in the back of his mind. Max is just one room over, and his sleeping consciousness is a calm, anchoring point when he searches for it. It’s as close as Michael can get to truly happy, and for the moment, it’s more than enough. 

[catch22inareddress]

Bodyguard  Chapter 3 Putting Your Guard Down

Word count 6035..damn

Previously:

"Touch me." His eyes snapped towards yours, and you kissed him deeply. Letting his tongue invade your mouth, devouring you and you moaned wantonly. You took his hand and led it to your clothed heat, and he growled into your neck as he dove in sucking and nipping. "Feel how wet I am, David?" He nodded into your neck, and you moaned as his fingers went past the fabric, in between your delicate folds. "Fuck. That's all for you. You are so fucking sexy." He pulled away and took in your flustered state and bit his lip. He took the hand away from you and brought it to his lips and sucked it clean. You whimpered and then crashed your lips into his and invaded his mouth passionately. You could slightly taste your arousal on him, but as he pulled your body as close to him as possible and gripped his hair, you were lost in him. At the moment. Heavy breathing, lost thoughts.

"Look at me, love." His eyes searched yours for answers to questions that he hadn't asked. " I want nothing more than to make love to you or to fuck you against this wall right now. I would love to be whatever you need of me. But tonight...can I please just hold you. I-we need to talk about a few things." He was so torn, and you knew that he needed this for whatever reason and you would give him whatever he demanded.

"Anything you need of me, David. I'm here, baby." He put his forehead to yours and then gently kissed you. He took your hand and led you to the bed, and he laid on his back. You curled into his side and hooked your leg over his, and his calloused hand gripped your thighs.

The last thing you remember before dozing off his him kissing your forehead and saying that you were safe.

As you woke in the early hours around 2 am you heard talking coming from the bathroom and climbed out of bed.

"I know. I know fuck. You're right. I told her I would talk to her tomorrow."

You could hear yelling on the phone, and you became concerned and were about to open the door to make sure David was alright.

"Tom, just look. I don't want to hurt her. I already gave Vicky the papers to sign."

" I care for Y/N, but I'm not right for her, you know that. She will only see a married man." You were gutted as you stood there outside of the bathroom. He was married and hadn't told you, was this just a game for him. Did he do this with all of his employers?

You were consumed with all of the thoughts screaming in your head as the bathroom door opened and David stood before you.

"Fuck, Y/N I can explain."

After you ran into your bedroom and locked it, David knocked repeatedly trying to get you to talk to him. You just asked him to leave you be, that you needed to be alone. He finally left you by yourself and you lay in your bed. You messaged Charlotte around 7 am asking her how long he was married to which she replied. "Talk to him, its complicated and you deserve to hear it from him. I know he cares about you if that helps." It did but it didn't, you knew that you didn't hold anything to his wife. You were just the other person and you refused to be that other person.

You took a shower and got dressed and when you emerged from your room you found David asleep outside your door. He looked so at peace but completely disheveled from sleeping on the floor and you felt bad for a moment at his state. You knelt down and pushed the curls from his face and he stirred. "David." You whispered. "David, get up. I'll make some coffee." His eyes opened and they were bloodshot from sleeping a bare minimum and you rose from his side and stepped over him to go to the kitchen. You heard him get up and follow you.

"Can we talk about last night, what you heard?" His voice was deep and gravelly with the morning and he sounded so sensuous that you had to focus on the task at hand and the fact that he was a taken man. A very taken man. "Already with this, David? It's too early." He came up beside you and took your arm gently. You stopped but refused to look at him knowing that him in only his tight black shirt and boxers and unkempt hair was too much for you to take in.

"Please, love." You shook your head. "You don't get to call me that, David. You're married." He sighed and pushed off the counter, running his hands through his mane. "That's why I didn't say anything. That would be all that you would see. A married man and not me." Your brows came together and you threw the coffee tin down on the marble counter tops with a bang. "That's absurd. You are married, how else am I suppose to see you. You are taken and you presented yourself as a free man. I-fuck I fell for you." You went to walk past him and he grabbed your hand, you whipped around and slapped him hard across his perfect face and he was stunned. Silent.

"You don't get to play with peoples feelings, David. Pick and choose what information you tell them so they fall for you only to find out that they can't have you. I suppose this is just a game? You fuck all of the women you work for, yea? Give them some sob story then go back to your wife? Do you have kids too?" You choked back a sob as his face had fallen and he looked towards the ground and shook his head. "Right then? Well, I'm the asshole."

"You can hit me all you want but I'm still not giving up on you until you hear me out, love." Your body went rigid at the pet name and the tears started flowing. Living in the close quarters with this man, especially under such intense circumstances had left you assuredly in love with him. Charlotte told you to hear him out so that you would do.

"Fine. I'll listen." He let out a sigh of relief and led you to the couch and sat on the coffee table directly in front of you as close as he could get, as you would allow him to be. Your legs were wedged between his bare thighs and he was holding your hands between his larger ones and he was looking at them as he began.

"I met her just before I was sent out on active duty and we were in love. It was a whirlwind romance by the book. If I were to die in Afganistan I didn't want her to be left without the benefits so we married, it was small and at the courthouse. We wrote, skyped, saw each other on my leave. Everything was seemingly perfect. When I was injured she helped nurse me back to health and the scars....well. They were a bit much for her. I um..I also had/have PTSD. I'm a lot better, but sometimes I still have nightmares. I immediately sought help but she just kept pushing me away. She hated the scars and said my trauma made me ...less of a man."

He was speaking slowly and you knew that the vulnerability was hard for him to lay at your feet. He was your protector and he was putting it on all the line to be truthful to you, risking everything for you to see all that he was. His voice was breaking your heart and he refused to look you in the eyes. You were afraid that if you moved him he wouldn't be able to continue.

"I tried to make it work but when I came home I found her with someone else. To be honest. I wasn't sad or mad, I was ... relieved. It was over between her and I. Or so I thought. That was over a year ago and she still hasn't signed the papers to give me a divorce. I didn't tell you because on paper I'm married but not in action or in my heart. I- I." His voice broke as he held your hands in his.

"Look at me." Your voice was soft as he shook his head no. "Please, David. Look at me, love." He raised his face and the blue orbs found your eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you and shut you out. I thought the worst of you when you are the only good thing that has happened to me lately." His eyes crinkled at your words as if a weight had been lifted.

"So what do we do now?" He looked at you unsure of what to do. "Do you want me to find you a replacement? Until I can sort this mess out?"

You shook your head not and pulled him across to the love seat and ran your hands in his curly locks. "Don't be silly. We will figure this out together. I don't want anyone else here protecting me, and I can't imagine being here with another person so please don't dare ask that of me." He let out a relieved laugh and put his forehead to yours. "Thank God. I may be ok with seeing Vicky with another man but seeing someone else in here would do me in, love."

You leaned in and kissed his chapped yet warm lips, and he gave into your needs. He pulled you into his lap with the ease and finesse of a powerful man, and you felt secure. He pulled away and had his hands firmly on your waist, and you looked into his blue eyes, searching curiously at what he was trying to say.

"I-don't really know how to do this, dating bit. It's been so long, and I've been out of the running and your fucking lovely. I don't want to screw it up." You smiled a whole earth shattering grin as he complimented you. "Hey, it's just me, and we can take it as slow as you like, David. You set the pace, and I will follow. Plus I like it when the man takes the lead." You winked at him, and you saw him shift underneath you, and you giggled at his discomfort. Cute bastard. Charlotte was right you only needed to talk to him, and the weight had been lifted so quickly.

Now you only needed to get you two off Vicky and the stalkers radar and it would be perfect.

The next few days everything was the norm, unfortunately. However, by the end of the week, the phone calls had gotten more frequent, and the tracers were getting nowhere. Tom had suggested going out public with David perhaps and not hiding your budding romance. It may get the creeper to make a mistake. David was of course on board, anything to catch the maniac but you didn't want him to get hurt, he, of course, scoffed at your concern. "Ex-soldier and protection service, love. I'll be fine and more importantly, so will you. So let me take you on a proper date." You smirked at his giddiness and conceded to his request under one condition. "I want a simple date at a local pub that's lowkey. Somewhere you would take me if I wasn't well...high profile." You arched your brows as he glared at you, but his resolve broke as you batted your lashes at him. "Fine, but I can lay a kiss on you anytime during the evening and not just a goodnight kiss, yea?"

You slapped his perky ass. "Of course, why would I deny my favorite Scotsman a kiss?"

"I've seen your movie collection. How do I know your favorite is me and not Outlander?" You laughed at his sassiness and stalked towards him as he leaned against the dinner table. You moved between his legs which he adjusted freely to accommodate you.

"Because." You ran your hands underneath his t-shirt and up his rippled abs and further up his chest and he fought to keep his eyes open.

"That man." You kissed his neck, and he let out a soft moan.

"Doesn't do the things." You nibbled on his jawline as he gripped your hips and pulled you closer to him.

"That you do to me." He looked at your face and then your lips with a smirk and then kissed you. His tongue invaded your mouth, and you let him explore. He spun you around and sat you on the table and rested his body between your legs. His hands gripped your bare thighs, allowing your skirt to bunch up towards your panties. Your calves wrapped around his legs pulling him closer as he continued to kiss you intensely. You pulled him back as you laid down on the table hoping he wouldn't stop and you were so pleased when he thrust his hardened member into your clothed wetness, eliciting a moan from your lips. His open mouth and breath on your face were pleasing as he nearly whined as the welcomed friction between the both of you was felt. Your hands were under his shirt, and you ran them over his skin, and he looked at your lips and kissed them again, biting the bottom lip. You thrust your hips into his solid cock, and he dropped his head into the nook of your neck and sucked hard, undoubtedly leaving a love bite. You were close to coming from his unyielding strokes, and the sounds coming from him were signaling an impending release. You hand searched lower until you found his hard cock and you began you stroke it, and his breathing intensified. "You don't have---gahh" You stifled you snicker at his response.

"What was that, baby?" He glared at you before his finger found your panties and ripped them off within a quick second and you let out an audible gasp. "Did you say something, love?" You bit your lip, and he grinned. His fingers found your folds and slipped between them. "Look at me, Y/N" You were so wet that he shifted them in with ease and began pumping in and out and you arched you back. "That's it, love. Give yourself to me." You hand still stroked him, but it felt like it wasn't enough you wanted everything, but you knew that this was all that he was ready to give and you wouldn't ask for more.

His breathing was heavy, and his skin was sweaty. "I'm almost there, please cum for me, love. Can you do that?" You looked up at him and kissed his plump, delicious lips, and he moaned into yours, and you could feel the vibrations from that, and it pushed you over the edge. Every sensation that he was giving you launched you into rapture. He collapsed on top of you with his damp shirt and wet pants, and you smiled with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

He laughed into your neck. "Well, that escalated quickly." You shrugged. "I told you that you were my favorite Scotsman. Don't question my loyalties." He pulled back and admired your glowing skin. "I'll question your allegiance to my country every day if that's the response I get, darling." You grinned at his cheekiness and loved how he could turn to stone cold protector to giddy boyfriend the next.

Boyfriend? Was that was this was?

You quickly changed your thoughts and plucked the wet shirt from his skin. "Next time I say we remove the shirt. I want to feel your skin against me." His face betrayed him momentarily before he recovered, it was too late, and you caught it. "Yea, sure." He went to pull away. "Hey, you know I love your body." He paused and then gave you a quick peck he got off of you, taking your hand and helping you up. You stood and went to your room to get ready. Before you went behind the door, you stopped and leaned against the frame.

"David, just a thought. If we just did because you questioned me over my favorite Scotsman. Imagine if I were to prove to you in truth how sexy I thought you were to me." You winked at him as he stood slack-jawed blushing before you stepping into your room to take a shower and get changed.

When you stepped out for your date night, David was by the door holding a package with an odd look on his face. You didn't have time to take his handsome appearance before dread took you over. "What did he leave?" He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I already called the office. They are sending someone over to pick it up."

"What is it? I should see it; I need to know." You walked over, and he slowly took off the box while only looking at your face. Your hands were shaking as they went to your mouth. He had cut up clothes, your clothes. Nightgowns and underwear and had put blood all over them? There was a knife in the center that he had used on the clothes and was dripping with blood, and there was a note opened and said: "The next one is for you, love."

David quickly closed it and put in on the table and pulled you into his arms. "It's ok, I've got you. No harm will come to you as long as I'm alive." You nodded into his chest.

"We can stay here if you like, darling?" You stood back and grabbed your phone and purse. "Absolutely, not! I want to pretend that everything is fine and that it's just a normal night with my boyfr--." You paused a moment but refused to look at him and instead just looked to the ground and walked out the door.

How the fuck did that work? He was married, and you two were dating, you were falling in love with him. Damnit, everything was a mess. He pulled you out of your thoughts with his hand, and you fell back into his chest. "Hey, where are you going?" He had a smirk on his face. "I -I was going to my car?"

He shook his head and just smiled. "Nope, love. You said you wanted a real date with me. I have my motorcycle, and we're going to my favorite pub and have some dinner and drinks, dance. I want to have a nice night with my girl." When the words fell from his lips, you couldn't contain the smile that graced yours, and his heart soared knowing that he was the cause of it.

He climbed atop it and held out his arm for you to use to brace yourself. You tucked your skirt underneath your legs, and he bit his lip. "You gonna be ok wearing that? Although, I'm sure to get in a fight with some guy tonight for sure." He laughed as he ran his large hands down your bare legs before gripping the handles and knocking out the kickstand. "No, you won't. I only have eyes for you, David." He turned his head to see you and his profile was pure perfection. "Love, it's their eyes I'm going to be pissed about."

He turned the engine on and revved it before taking off, you weren't going far, and while you both knew it was reckless, neither of you had a helmet. The wind in your hair and the sunglass on your face was delightful. He could easily be a model for aviators as you stopped at a red light and you chuckled to yourself at his current profession. Model vs. Protection Service. How different his life would've been.

A convertible pulled up with some girls ready to go out on the town, and they were ogling David in his snug fit leather jacket, and it got under your skin. Your fingers gripped his waist tighter, and he put his free hand over yours. He glanced over at the giggling girls by reaction and then realized your advances on him.

He took a moment with his hand and ran it up your thigh as high as his gentleman nature would allow and pressed a loving kiss to your lips. He smiled and turned, taking off at the green light. This man was a regular fucking Casanova, and you were in trouble.

As you pulled up to the local pub, he helped you climb off and he quickly followed. He took you by the hand and led you into the pub, and you sat down at the bar and ordered a burger and chips and some beer. The conversation flowed easily as you asked about Vicky, and while he was apprehensive at first he told you how they met and while he wanted kids, she didn't, at least not with him. Not when he came back, even after he went through treatment for PTSD. There was a sense of sadness in his eyes that he tried to cover up with a smile and you took a drink of your beer and turned your chair to face him. "So how about you, love. Kids?"

"Of course. I would love to. I have a crazy life, and not a lot of men find this life for them." He nodded and took your hand in his. "Can I ask you an earnest question. Don't sugar coat it." You were a little worried, but you wouldn't lie to him. "Anything."

"Why me? You could have any man. I've seen Scott. He could protect you just as well as me, he's a big guy. I saw the way that he looked at you; if you honestly gave him a go of it, I think he would move here for you. So...why me?" You stood and rested yourself between his thighs as the noisy Saturday crowd buzzed around you, and he just took in your proximity. His hands wrapped around your body and it took everything in him to not kiss your lips and instead await the answer he had been asking himself for days.

"No man has ever actually made me sincerely feel safe. Can Scott fight, sure I don't doubt he can? Would be move here for me? Maybe. Do I want him to? No." You put your hand up his shoulder and into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he chewed his lip. "I may be too forward, and at the risk of scaring you off I'll put it all on the table and do with it what you want."

You took a steadying breath and focused on the blue eyes as he concentrated solely on you. "The thought of accepting a role away from London scares the shit out of me. Not because of who may be out there, but rather the fact that you won't be with me. You can blame it on the circumstances right now, but that's... not it. When I wake up in the middle of the night its, not of fear, it's of a desire to have your body next to me. I know its wrong, but I don't care. You excite me, and I find you intriguing, and I crave to know everything I can about you." He was silent at your confession, and you looked to his chest where he had hair on display, and you fought not to kiss his collarbone.

"So to answer your question I 'chose' you because I want you. I have never felt that way about anyone, and I don't know if you feel the same way but if there is any chance, even a small one. I'll take it because I'm falling for you."

"Look at me." His face was firm but quiet, and you rose your eyes to meet his clouded ones, full of emotion and anxiety. "There are so many things out of my control. I'm not an easy person to be with, love. If you can work with me and not give up on me, I will follow you anywhere, be anything that I can be for you."

Before you could say anything, he just kissed you showing you the intensity of the words he just spoke. Claiming you. A few people around you whistled, and you hid your face in his shoulder, and he laughed. "Another drink, mate."

"I've got to go to the bathroom. Stay here, love." He was stern in his request knowing the severity and that even though you two were having a fun night, he wasn't entirely off duty.

When he left, you saw his phone on the bar and picked it up and went through the contacts quickly. You had formed a plan but needed Vicky's number, and this was the perfect time to get it. You sent it to your phone just before he returned and sat it back down. He gave you a quick kiss.

"I could get used to this, darling. I'm not going to lie." He laughed and the PDA you were allowing him to get from you. "Please, do. I like how affectionate you are. Tell me, are you always like this? Or are you just doing it to woo me?" He shrugged. "If I said that I would kiss you every moment that you let me, would it scare you off?" You shook your head. "Absolutely not! I would just request you kiss every inch of my body; you must be thorough after all." He leaned in close to your ear and nibbled on the lobe.

"I am nothing if not thorough." He looked back at you with dark eyes, and you wanted him to take you and throw you up against the wall and had to shake the dirty thoughts from your head.

"Dance with me, sweets." Great, just another thing to torture you already lust filled body with. You could do this, perhaps even torture him the way he was torturing you. After all, you were Y/F/N Y/L/N, get it together.

You both went out on the tiny little dance floor littered with bodies, and he pulled you closed, and you could feel him scanning his surroundings. "You with me?" He let out a chuckle and looked down at you, "Of course, you're all I see." You wrapped your arms around his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, and he hummed. "Why is it I think your fibbing? I think you see everything and everyone." His brows furrowed and he took you in, every feature and memorized you. "The only reason I see it all is being I intend on keeping the most important one in the room safe."

"Can I kiss you? Would that be..." You didn't finish the sentence before he interrupted. "You don't have to ask, love. I know this is...unconventional. Probably not what you were wanting but I'm all in." You pulled him down, and as soon as your lips met his, the hands around your waist pulled you're tighter to him. The kiss was shortlived though as he didn't want to be exposed for long. "We'll have to continue this later, darling. Is that ok?" He looked around to gain his upper hand again and saw a few people staring at you two; you could tell it was giving him unrest. You pushed your breasts up against him and ran your leg against his dick and he groaned, giving you a stern look, causing you to snicker. He looked around, trying to get his mind off of you and your hands in his hair and your wandering thigh.

"Would you like to take me home, David." His eyes returned to you when you said his name and home. "I would love nothing more than to do that, darling." He walked back to the bar and threw a few notes down and walked to the door with you in hand. A man grabbed you from behind. "Hey, love!"

David spun around and gripped his arm, and he yelped in pain. "HEY! Hey! I just wanted her autograph. What's the deal!" You put your hand on David's shoulder. "It's alright. I can do an autograph." He was breathing steady, but his body was tense, and you knew he was in defense mode for you.

He backed up, and you walked over to the fan, and he was smiling even though his hand was no doubt throbbing from the pain. You leaned down and wrote your name and said Best Wishes. Then turned to David before the guy had the audacity to ask for a picture. "C'mon handsome, take me home." You winked at him, and he smirked before putting his hand on the small of your back walking you to his bike.

"I'm sorry back there. I let my guard down and ...when he grabbed you I was. Angry. Fuck. I'm sorry." He stood there and didn't mount the bike but looked around refusing to stop inspecting his surroundings, even for a moment. You stepped forward and took his hands in yours but didn't make him look at you so he could still have the control that he was craving.

"It's alright, David. I understand. You don't have to apologize. This was new for the both of us, and it was hard for you because what I asked wasn't fair. I asked for you to do your job and be off duty. Thank you for trying and guarding me. Tonight has been lovely but can you take me home so you can relax and we can have the rest of the night to...ourselves?" He nodded but still didn't look at you.

He climbed the bike and then you did the same. When you were on the bike he started down the street, you allowed your hands to travel around his body under his shirt slightly, and he relaxed under your touch. To that you were grateful. You laid your head on his shoulder, and at the stop light he took a moment to run his hands on your thighs, and you tightened them around his legs, loving his touch.

Your place couldn't come fast enough in the darkness and the loud nightlife of London. Partygoers and drunkards were going from bar to bar, entertaining you on your ride home, but you knew that all the hustle and bustle would strain David. You wanted for him to have the comfort of silence.

However, when you got home, there was wording on your door and you cursed under your breath as David told you to stay there. He called the local police to come and access. "You're Mine" was what was written on it.

David made sure the immediate perimeter was cleared and then came to collect you, but you were staring at a car in the distance with a man in it, smoking a cigarette. "Come, love." You didn't answer, and he touched your arm, making you jumped. "Hey, love." He looked concerned as he looked at you.

"There's a man, there. In that car." His eyes darted to the vehicle, and he immediately pulled his Glock. He held it close to his side and walked out towards the car and when he heard the ignition start he went into a full run, and you stood, nearly stumbling.

"Oh god. David." You started off towards him but couldn't run you were shaking so hard, and he was sprinting after the car and starting yelling for it to halt. It went around the corner and sped off, and David went after it and they were gone.

You stood there alone on the street and gasping for air, terrified. You walked back to the house, unsure of what to do and where to go, so you sat on your doorstep. He hadn't cleared the house, and you weren't going to go in. You started softly crying, waiting.

It was about ten minutes before he stood before you, panting and sweat slicked. You jumped up and wrapped your armed around him, and he stood there a moment with his arms at his side. "Please, David." You buried your face in his chest, and his breath faltered before his arms gripped onto you tightly. "I need to get you inside. Let me make sure its safe, okay?" You just nodded as he let you go and secured the premises. He waved you past the entrance, and you slowly walked up to him as he looked conflicted on whether to touch you or not.

You knew him well enough to know what was going on. He failed tonight in his mind, and that was what he was struggling with. He convinced you to go out tonight and it wasn't a success. At least that was what he was thinking.

Your hands traveled up his arms that hung loosely at his side, and he closed his eyes. "Thank you for keeping me safe tonight." You assured him and he only shook his head. "I fucked up and left you alone. I didn't catch him. Fu-fuck." He threw his head back and pushed your hands away from his body.

"Hey. Hey. Please. David. Please." You pleaded an he turned to walk away from you and towards the living area. "Look, I know you're upset. Just talk to me." You caught up and grabbed his shirt, and he turned around and pointed outside. "That! Tonight! I fucked it up! I let my guard down because of you! I shouldn't have done that. How can I protect you if I'm in- in love with you!" He was nearly yelling, and his voice broke at the end.

Your hands grabbed his face at his confession and your heart nearly stopped altogether. "You did keep me safe. Plus the asshole made a mistake, right? That's a good sign. He's getting sloppy. Maybe the cams get a visual and a picture of his face tomorrow?" He shook his head as but said nothing.

You kissed his the corner of his mouth. "I love you too. We will figure this out, but I need you. Please, don't push me away." He stood there, but his breathing was labored signaling his internal struggle. You laid another kiss and then another, this time on his lips. Allowing it to linger until he opened his mouth, kissing back. He moved his hands to your waist and sighed into his mouth. "Please." You whispered and begged.

"What, love. What do you need of me?" You tilted your head back to give him access, and he moved to lay open mouth kisses as you moaned. "I need you and your hands on me...anywhere. Everywhere." He growled into your neck as you undid the buttons on his shirt and opened it. You quickly pulled his undershirt over his head, needing to see his chest and have his naked body for you to see it all its glory.

He grinned at your eagerness and you bit your lip. "Don't look so arrogant, Sergeant." You laughed and he nipped and bit at your shoulder, and you tugged on his curly hair. "I just haven't had a woman look at me like that in so long. I need you, love." You beamed. "I'm all yours."

Your hands ran down his chest and back, and he sighed, and then went to his belt buckle but you were careful to not fumble, but make quick work. He went to walk you to the bedroom. "I need you here, now." His eyes found yours and a flicker of nervousness as he looked around figuring where he could lay you down. You tskd. "Wall, now."

"Fuck, me." He said with a deep and husky voice causing you to giggle. "That's the point." He grinned and grabbed your lace panties and pulled them down. "I want your eyes on me the whole time. Can you do that?" You nodded at him, and he gave you that smile. THAT smile. If you weren't that wet before you sure as hell were now. He stood up and ran his fingers up your legs and into your slick.

"Ahhh.D-David." He kissed your lips and swallowed the moan. "You're dripping. Tell that I made you this wet."

"It's all for you. You're the sexiest man I've ever seen." He gasped at those words and a part of it pained you, thinking that he hadn't heard that in so long.

You grabbed his cock and ran your hands up the length a few times. His kisses were rough and needed, invading and consuming your senses as he pushed you harshly against the wall. His hands gripped the globes of your ass and kneaded it, he tapped you to signal for you to jump. Naturally, you did, and he slid into you with ease, your arousal from the evening aiding him.

He moaned in delight as he thrust into you in one swift movement. "Fuck, love. You're so sweet. You're perfection." His eyes stayed trained on you, the lustful blue of them pushing you closer to the precipice of bliss. With each thrust, he drove you further up the wall, and your nails dug into whatever claim you could take. His hair, his scalp, his shoulder and he would relish in it with a growl.

"You feel so good inside of me, David. Wreck me." He put his forehead to yours and pounded into you even harder than you thought was possible. "I'm gonna cum, please cum inside me."

"Ah. Fuck yes." He yelled out as he kissed your lips and sweat dripped down his brow as he fucked you into the wall. All of the emotions of the night came down the only one that mattered. This beloved man. This moment of him with you. The vulnerability of giving each other over to one another.

Without a word he carried you to your room and cleaned both of you up before laying down beside you. "I could lay here forever with you, and I don't think it would be enough." He smiled at your words. "And I could never tire of hearing you say words like that to a simple man like me." You rolled over to lay on him, your hands running up his scarred side.

 "Simple?" He nodded. "You're an actress, and I'm just a man, a police officer." You leaned in and kissed him. "Not just, your job is far more important than mine." He tucked your hair behind your ears before you laid your head on his chest. Finding the beat of his heart lulling you to sleep.

Before you drifted to rest you could've sworn he said. "And yet, I would quit to follow you anywhere my love."

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Worm Liveblog #53

UPDATE 53: Retribution

Last time the Undersiders delivered to Coil the data they got from their mission, and the Slaughterhouse Nine were introduced via exposition, effectively building what may start being the plot of the next arc. Before that there’s still an intermission, though, the next arc will start in the next update. Onwards!

Okay, there are a few things that are clear straight from the very first line. The first is that Regent is the character this will be following, since otherwise the other option would be Shadow Stalker and she already got her turn on the spotlight. The second is that this intermission tells what happened after a certain point last chapter. The third one...

“I’m letting you go,” Regent lied.

...is that this is going to be interesting. A lie, huh. Shadow Stalker isn’t going to be happy about this. But yeah, it’s just like this first line says: Regent lied about having let Shadow Stalker free in that moment. I had thought he had actually done that, to make an example of how easily he could take control over her again, but nope. Everything Shadow Stalker did last chapter after that line was Regent still making her move. I was fooled, let me admit.

I believe he wasn’t lying about how easy it’ll be for him to control her if he’s ever near her, though.

Once the charade is over, Regent makes Shadow Stalker leave through the door, doing just like he had said, ordering her to go to the other side of the city before letting her go. I still wonder how large his radius of action is. It sure must be considerably large, given how he’s taking her to the other side of the city without any trouble, instead of she snapping out of the body control just a few blocks away. No wonder he’s the highest Master classification in Brockton Bay!

Something I really like of these intermission is not only that they allow the reader to see better how a character thinks and how they behave – one of Mr. Wildbow’s greatest strengths as a writer is that he can make each character have their own voice – but also that there’s more insight about how their powers work.

For long minutes, he exercised her power, the ability to be as light as a feather, enjoyed it.  He even liked the running, too, when he turned off her power and just legged it

It seems Regent can feel the puppets to some extent. I don’t mean he shares sensations with them, but it seems to me he can have...some sort of vicarious enjoyment in what they do. Makes me wonder if he has captured other capes before. It’s unlikely, I guess, given how it’d require kidnapping a cape and staying in close-quarters with them for a long while, so maybe he’s more used to doing this with normal civilians.

Fighting had been much the same way, but it had been even better.  Her muscle memory had been so primed for punching, kicking, takedowns and evading that he’d almost been able to let her go on autopilot, let her body handle things on its own.

Not that he could, really.  But it had been easy.  He loved that sort of thing.  Maximum reward for minimum effort.

Ah, he can access her muscle memory too? Like, all he has to do is give some sort of vague direction, he doesn’t have to plan every single of her movements. Convenient! Another advantage of controlling a cape.

Also what a relatable philosophy, hm! He uses it to not stand out, just doing what he wants, when he wants. Staying under the radar, even in the team, is advantageous when he has to deal with his puppets. While the Undersiders are en route to meet Coil, he sits back and focuses on making Shadow Stalker move further away, nobody notices he’s focused on something else. In his opinion, it’s better that way. He likes doing this. This brings forth a memory of the time he was a child, living with a couple of her sisters, his father and some of his father’s ‘girls’.

Hah! He as prone to tantrums, apparently. Even when everyone tried to appease him, he just kept going, until Heartbreaker was forced to come into scene. That wasn’t good for anyone, to say the least.

Father had taken two or three seconds to assess the situation before using his power on Alec, his two sisters and the ‘girl’ with a hand over Alec’s mouth.  He hit each of them with stark terror.  The kind of fear you experienced when you were claustrophobic and you woke up in a coffin six feet underground.

Charming. Quite the way to get them to be quiet...and it doesn’t sound like it happened only once or twice, given how Regent wonders if Heartbreaker doing this may have influenced his actual behavior.

That was only one of a dozen or so experiences that came to mind.  So yeah, maybe father had broken something in the process. Maybe it had been the emotional equivalent of staring into the sun for far too long, too many times, being left almost half blind.

...maybe? It’s possible it may have influenced, yeah. I also wouldn’t be surprised it’s also a side effect of Regent’s power. True, he may not have had a trigger event, given how he was the son of a parahuman, but it’s possible his power may have made it easier for him to make use of it, like slowly conditioning him and making him able to use the power to its maximum extent. Look, Regent was surrounded by so many factors that may have contributed to how he is now, it’s hard to blame a single one!

And now he says maybe it’s his power what made him like this. It’s always nice to see when my thoughts are echoed, makes me feel like I’m going in the right direction.

It doesn’t take long to get far away. Regent enjoys the sensation of controlling another person, basking in all of Shadow Stalker’s feelings. Unlike him, her emotions aren’t dulled at all. Yeah, that may be a reason why he likes so much to control other people. He can experience what he can’t experience so well by himself.

“Funny thing about having this control over you, I can feel your emotions, your body’s reactions.  Like a really, really good polygraph test.  I wasn’t even half done saying my piece back there when I caught on to the fact that you were too pissed and too angry to back down and walk away. There’s no way you’re going to leave town if I let you go, right?”

...in hindsight I took at face value that nod. I should have known someone as defiant as Shadow Stalker wouldn’t simply leave the town just because of what happened. She’d be hellbent in vengeance. Why did I take that nod at face value? I’m not sure, honestly...

Since he has nothing better to do right now and the rest will have stuff to deal with, Regent decides to have some fun flexing his power, and he does that by throwing Shadow Stalker’s stuff to the trash and committing some privacy breeches. He’s no Tattletale, but he can find out the password to Shadow Stalker’s phones by using muscle memory. One is the Ward-issued cellphone, which has the contacts stored. I bet it has excellent protection, even against tinkers. The other is her personal phone.

Browsing through the sent messages is a tedious task, so he goes for the saved messages. It confirms to him who Shadow Stalker is – since Taylor accidentally mentioned the names of two of her bullies, it seems. The message that confirms it, well...hm...let’s say it still feels rather uncomfortable to read plans to bully someone, especially when they’re written so flippantly.

Long seconds passed.  He knew he should feel bad for the dork, but he only felt annoyed.  He felt worse about the fact that he didn’t feel bad than he did about what he’d just read.

Something to thank father for, maybe.

...at least he felt something. Of course this something isn’t really directed towards Skitter, since it’s nothing like sympathy or the such, but since the concept of right and wrong didn’t rely on his emotions, he seems to be able to decide to...punish Shadow Stalker for her bullying campaign. She’s not taking it well, seeing Regent calmly getting ready to send the incriminating proof to the teachers of the school.  Eeeeh...can’t say I have much faith in them doing anything about that, after how things went in that meeting many arcs ago. Maybe he’d get better results sending them to Director Piggot as well, who knows. Give her some more headaches to deal with.

Oh, nevermind, she’s adding the police force to the email recipient list.

When he’d added that email to the list, he added another line:

contacting police to make sure something is done

In a way that’s kind of a brilliant move. These messages are about Sophia Hess, not about Shadow Stalker. Civilian identities are something the heroes need to be careful with, trying to not reveal anything to anyone who shouldn’t know. If Piggot tries to make some damage control regarding PR, she’d pretty much giving away what Shadow Stalker’s civilian identity is, as well as what kind of stuff she does at school. That’s going to be difficult to twist with PR. Even if there are people in the police force who already know about Shadow Stalker’s civilian identity, that doesn’t guarantee they’d cooperate to bury this situation away.

All in all, either something actually happens and Sophia Hess receives some retribution, or Director Piggot has to spend many, many hours dealing with this major mess. Either way she’s not going to be happy at all with Shadow Stalker. How much longer will it be before she decides it’s not worth it to have her around?

Once the messages were sent, Regent makes Shadow Stalker go around, walking on precarious railings and calling Emma at 3 AM. Hah! She asked to be called later, yep, but not at three in the morning, that’s for sure!

Well...Regent isn’t really very good at imitating Shadow Stalker, but that’s not important. She’s annoying Emma a lot, there’s some satisfaction to be had in that. And theeeeen he makes her confess her love to Emma. Well alright then! If there were any doubts in Emma’s mind that something was up with Shadow Stalker, this will dispel them. Not that it matters much, after all, what can Emma do about anything? She’s somewhere else, and she’s just some random civilian. In the big scheme of things, she’s a largely unimportant character.

Emma didn’t believe not even a single word of that love confession. Figures. What’s next, Regent? He hasn’t gotten fed up of messing with Shadow Stalker’s life yet. He takes out the map application of the smartphone and studies the last request for directions Shadow Stalker did.

...

He’s going to do something at her home now, isn’t he? He sure is being thorough in this methodical dismantling of Shadow Stalker’s life. Her work as a reluctant Ward had been ruined already, and now he’s ruining everything about her civilian identity. That’s rather messed up, definitely.

But who knows if he’ll actually be able to do anything. The further away he is, the harder it’s for him to keep Shadow Stalker moving. She’s already moving sluggishly; it may be matter of time before she recovers all control over her body. Oh, nevermind, they got closer later. Shadow Stalker won’t ever know it, thankfully.

These people are awake at three in the morning, huh. Waiting for Sophia to arrive, perhaps? The young man who saw Shadow Stalker first seems to be unable to believe what he’s seeing, while the woman who’s likely to be Sophia’s mother reacts with...that behavior parents do when they want to talk something they don’t want their kids to hear.

“Chill, bro,” Regent was making a guess here. From the way the boy stared at Shadow Stalker, he knew he’d hit the mark.

“Sophia!?”

“Yeah,” Regent grinned behind her mask.  “Duh, moron.”

She has been keeping her hero identity as a secret from her family! Or at least from everyone who isn’t the mother. Now that I think about it, that makes sense. It’s not like the Wards surreptitiously induct people into the group. Kid Win had talked with that budding spy while the spy’s mother was present. Sophia’s mom must have known about the hero job.

There was a flurry of hissed words between Terry and Shadow Stalker’s mother.  Among them was a surprised, hurt, “You knew!?”

Hm. While I still feel some retribution towards Sophia’s action was deserved, this is starting to get other people involved and therefore it’s starting to go rather far. Emma was one thing, because she was directly into the bullying plans. This family, well...I doubt they had anything to do with all the poisonous mess Sophia is. Things are going to be very awkward for this family for a while.

This truly illustrates how someone like Regent having the ability to control other people’s bodies is a rather fearsome thing.

You know, I can’t tell if Sophia would behave so dismissively towards her mother. Apparently yes, since the mom isn’t realizing something is off about Sophia’s nonchalant behavior. The woman gets angrier with each flippant line, and even more when Sophia yawns. Wow, Regent really knows how to piss people off.

“It’s the rules in my house!  If it’s going to keep you out of prison and on the straight and narrow, fine.  But I will not have you glorifying violence-”

Hoh, nothing kept her on the straight and narrow at all. But yeah, looks like this explains why only the mother knew about Sophia’s hero role. She doesn’t approve any of this at all, and I have a hunch Sophia’s extreme vigilantism from before she joined the Wards can’t have helped to earn her support.

It must be horrible to watch someone else make you dig your metaphorical grave deeper and deeper. Showing the lethal arrows to the woman who disapproves of violence in the first place isn’t going to convince her she’s on the straight and narrow. The mom is appropriately horrified, and demands to know what’s going on – with her violent behavior, that is, not what’s happening right now.

“You do not have the right to complain about something like being bored!  I work two jobs for you three!  I put in overtime, I attend every school function, I come into the office every time you get reprimanded because you’ve got anger issues! You aren’t even taking care of your sister, or helping out around this house!  What do you think-”

What she does goes beyond anger issues, that’s for sure. But yeah, I feel a lot of sympathy for Sophia’s family, frankly. They didn’t ask for any of this to happen, and their lives were already hard enough before this night. I hope they will be alright.

Shadow Stalker stood at Regent’s directions, then pointed the crossbow at the mother. The woman’s eyes widened, and she hurried to back away as Shadow Stalker advanced.  They stopped when the mother’s back was to the wall by the kitchen door, with Shadow Stalker’s crossbow bolt pressed against her throat.

My sympathy is increasing exponentially. I don’t have children, and it’d be extremely hard to imagine how it must feel to be in this situation, but...having your kid pretty much threatening to kill you must be awful, to say the very, very least. Is this something she and Sophia can leave behind? ...who knows. I have a hard time believing they will. It’s simply too big of a shock to just...talk over.

Once Regent is done terrorizing Shadow Stalker’s mother, he makes Shadow Stalker go to her room, ignoring the brother who just found out his sister is a messed up hero. Sophia’s room is rather normal, with the usual furniture and many photos on the wall. Most are of Emma and Sophia. There’s also a photo of Sophia’s family.

He found a picture of Shadow Stalker – Sophia – with her family.  Her mom looked younger and far less tired there, and was pregnant. Shadow Stalker looked twelve or so, and her brother looked sixteen or seventeen, sporting a fantastic looking afro and a less fantastic attempt at a moustache.  They were clustered around one another, but only the mom was smiling.

I don’t know, in my opinion Shadow Stalker keeping that picture pinned there with all the rest says a lot, even if she’s not exactly happy in the photo. There’s also the fear and anger Sophia felt when Regent made her enter the house with the costume on. I think she does care a lot about her family, despite how she’s like.

Could it be that Sophia’s father leaving is related to her trigger event? Like, he leaving caused it, due to the stress and hatred she must have felt back then? There’s not really any detail about what happened back then. What’s for sure is that whatever happened with him, and he leaving, really took a toll on the mother.

Regent makes her burn Emma’s face off a couple photos, and reveals he has been dismantling Sophia’s life with a goal in mind. He’s...

...he’s making her write a suicide note. Wow. I don’t feel nearly confident about how to treat this. Seriously messed up, that’s for sure. Regent’s going rather far. I’m not sure if I should have imagined this’d happen. Then again, Rachel and he are the two that’s said to have killed before. Maybe that’s not why I feel surprised this is happening, or surprised about how cold Regent can be while doing this. The fact he’s a villain also makes it less shocking. None of that makes all this be any better, of course, but yeah.

“Here’s the thousand dollar question,” he mused, as he began following the steps outlined in the video, putting the knot together, “Will your boss tell your mom what happened with me controlling you?  If she keeps her mouth shut, well, this paints a pretty ugly picture, doesn’t it?”

For some reason, I keep trying to think about how Emma would react, since that call was a love confession and all. I simply can’t imagine how she’d react. After how she left Taylor behind, I just can’t envision her having an emphatic response to anything, even though she clearly isn’t unfeeling.

“But if she does tell, if she lets mommy know, then shit hits the fan.  It looks pretty fucking bad for her, and if word gets out, it’s as bad as it gets for public relations.  Scary, dangerous parahumans.  Not just lives at risk, but you could be controlled.  Ooooh, scary.  Nobody would ever be able to trust their coworkers or neighbors.  It’s the kind of stuff they want to keep quiet.”

You mean nobody in this city has ever imagined there may be a parahuman with the ability to control minds or bodies? Parahumans have all kinds of abilities, and the heroes are rather good examples of some of them. Has nobody in this city ever thought that, hey, there may be someone who can use you as a puppet, better hope it’s not a madman? I guess just imagining is fine, confirming there’s one in Brockton Bay would be the part that’d terrify everyone.

I never thought I’d be feeling anything resembling sympathy towards Sophia Hess, but there it is.

Regent gives Sophia enough control to say stuff, and of course the first thing she asks is why he’s doing this. He outright says it’s because of what she has done to his teammate, and thankfully she doesn’t make any connection to Taylor, she immediately thinks of Grue. That’s a bit of a relief...

“I dunno if I care all that much, but it’s the sort of thing I’ll do because it feels like I should.  Dunno. There’s also the fact that you’re dangerous, and you’ve outlived your usefulness, so… unless you can give me a convincing reason.”

“Please.”

“Not that convincing.”  He raised one foot, then kicked the chair, hard.

It rocked, but didn’t tip over.

He chuckled lightly, feeling the confusion and the relief from his host.  It was a thrill unlike any other.  “I think I made my point.”

I hadn’t realized I had been holding my breath with trepidation until now. True, I despise Shadow Stalker and all, but I can’t say I ever wished for her death. She’s, well, she’s not going to be okay, but at least she will live. That’s always a relief.

Regent is right, now Shadow Stalker has even less of a reason to stay in Brockton Bay, now that her life was completely destroyed, both in her hero identity and in her civilian identity. There’s also Regent’s threat about taking control over her again.

“I can feel your emotions.  I know I’ve convinced you.  You leave town, and if you don’t want me paying a visit, wherever you wind up, you keep your mouth closed about tonight.  They don’t need to know this was all my doing.  Things get messy that way, yeah?”

The more I read, the more it feels like this really may be Shadow Stalker’s last appearance. She has been convinced about leaving the city, she’s terrified...all in all, she’s not in condition to be an enemy to the Undersiders anymore. I can’t see how she can be integrated back into the story now. Quite a way to end her role in this story, if this really is the last time she appears. Well then...

This is pretty much how the intermission ends. I can’t think of anything else to say. Quite the shock, honestly. Mr. Wildbow doesn’t pull any punches in his writing. I feel a bit exhausted, for many reasons. All in all...wow. Yeah. That sure happened.

So! Next time the next arc will start. See you then!

Next update: in seven updates

[idleimagines]

Shower Situation (Pt. II)

Part I

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: some curse words here and there

Summary: In the aftermath of a particularly unexpected encounter, you and your neighbor meet up as promised, wherein you learn more than you asked for.

A/N: Here is the frequently requested second part. I apologize for how long this took, a portion of it had gotten deleted and I had to do it all over again. But anyways, enjoy!

Peter Parker broke his promise within twenty hours.

Okay, in all honesty, he didn’t mean to, but it just sort of slipped out. And it only slipped out to Ned--- who happened to be his best friend--- so did it really count? He’d like to think no, it didn’t.

He supposed he looked visibly anxious that day in school because Ned had asked him what was wrong. And Peter tried to veer away from his friend’s querying, he really did. But Ned was driving him up the wall, convinced that it had to do with Spider-man, and by lunchtime the prying had just become too incessant.

“Fine, Ned. Fine.” Peter groaned with finality, before lifting his head to survey the school cafeteria. Seeing that the coast was clear--- nobody appeared to be paying them any mind--- he turned back to his friend. “So yesterday, I kinda got... caught with the suit.”

“Dude!” Ned had all but shouted, eyes widening animatedly. “You got caught?! By who? By your Aunt? Aunt May? It was May, wasn’t it.”

This earned them a few odd stares from neighboring lunch tables, while Ned’s shin was met with Peter’s foot.

“Be a little louder, why don’t you,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Oww,” Ned whined, rubbing his shin. “That hurt.”

Sometimes Peter forgot how strong his powers had made him.

“My bad, dude,” he said in earnest. “And no, it wasn’t-- it wasn’t May...”

And it was then and there that Peter filled Ned in on the whole bathroom ‘scandal’--- which included, but was not limited to: you finding him in the Spidey suit, and him finding you... not dressed.

So technically yes, Peter broke his promise, which had been to never mention walking in on you.

But to be fair, it had been for contextual purposes, and contextual purposes only.

“(Y/n)?” Ned echoed. “Like your neighbor, (y/n)? Like the one you’ve been crushing on forever, (y/n)?”

“What?” Peter couldn’t help but scoff, making a face. God, he hoped nobody could hear them. “Ned, you know I’ve only ever liked Liz.”

“Ok, whatever you say Peter,” he replied, unconvinced. “Would you care to reminisce on that one time in the apartment elevator? Or when you bumped into her in the hallway? Or---”

“Ok, stop.”

“And now this can be added to the---”

“Shut up.”

Peter knew if he let Ned continue, his friend would rattle off the never-ending list of times Peter Parker was awkward and-or clumsy around you.

So his track record wasn’t great with you, or most girls for that matter. Whenever you were around, he happened to be especially inept. But that didn’t mean he was in love with you or anything. You were cute, was all.

“You’re missing the point, Ned. (Y/n) knows that I’m...” Peter subtly jerked his head, as if the gesture meant something. “You know.”

“So? It makes you look badass. Girls like that kind of thing.”

On that note, Ned was probably the least becoming person to tell him what girls liked. But once again, that wasn’t the point.

“What if she, like, tells someone? She’s gonna tell someone, I-I just have a feeling. And then everyone will know.”

Ned shrugged insouciantly, taking another bite out of his sandwich. Did he not understand the magnitude of the situation at hand?

“I still don’t get why it’s such a big deal to keep this ‘hero thing’ under the radar,” he said while chewing. “Well, I kinda do, but still. If I were you--”

Here we go again, thought Peter.

“--I would tell everyone. You know, be all like, ‘Hey guys, I’m Spider-man. Yeah, that’s right. Who’s the loser now, Flash?’ And then I would do a backflip or something and it would be really cool.”

"Ned, for the last time--”

“I know, I’m just saying.”

Peter turned back to his half-eaten sandwich. He didn’t have much of an appetite today, not with yesterday on his mind. The two of you had made vague plans to meet up, and a part of him wondered if ‘vague’ meant it wasn’t happening. Would that be a good thing? Maybe you’d be willing to forget about the entire ordeal.

Ok, that was unlikely.

But maybe you would just leave it alone. Never to be mentioned again. Would that be a good thing?

No, no. He had to talk to you. You did seem curious for an explanation, and he supposed he owed you that much after embarrassing you. Besides, he had to make sure you truly weren’t going to tell anyone.

The latter half of the school day came and went, and before you knew it, you were on the subway headed home. Hand latched around the pole grip, your mind wandered off, per usual whenever using public transportation.

Your date with Jason had gone well.

If you’d consider a conversationally silent two hours of rigidly sitting side-by-side, craning your necks to look up at the screen because there were no seats left except in the front of the theater a good thing, then it went great actually.

He was nice though, if a bit awkward, not that you had much of a problem with awkwardness. In fact, you didn’t have much of a right to pass judgment; you’d said and done some painfully awkward things yourself.

Speaking of which, you couldn’t even think about yesterday without externally grimacing. The entire movie date was spent like that; replaying the very moment in which the door had swung open and Peter stood there agape.

Moreover, you felt like you had intruded on some part of your neighbor’s life that you had no place intruding upon. Not that it had been in your control, really. But it felt wrong that you were asking for an explanation in concerns to his secret identity.

The two of you hadn't said anything beyond that, was it safe to assume Peter Parker didn’t want to meet up with you?

I wouldn’t if I were him.

But you wanted an explanation so badly. You still had so many questions and there was still so much confusion.

Did he always have those powers? And if not, then how did he get them? And what was the extent of them?

The subway came to a screeching halt, and you stepped off with a flood of passengers pushing past you. The walk back to your apartment was a short one, but it got you thinking of all the things you just had to ask him. You wanted to show Peter that you were cool and composed about it all, prove to him that you could keep a secret. But man, were you also curious.

Heading up the steps of the apartment complex, a part of you hoped you would see him. Sometimes the two of you bumped into one another while coming or going, to which those encounters were always brief but bumbling; never more than a few awkward words in greeting.

Disappointment admittedly welled up within you when that wasn’t the case. You had reached your door with no Peter in sight.

Hours passed and that disappointment intensified.

He doesn’t want to talk.

Could you blame him? No, not really. Maybe you had his number, but even so, it felt weird reaching out to him like that. ‘Hey, so when are we gonna meet up to talk about this superhero thing?’ Such an approach seemed rather tacky.

Well, maybe he was busy fighting crime. That was what Spider-man specialized in, after all. Maybe he was in the midst of foiling some great heist, or stopping a pair of assaulters, or---

A muffled knock sounded, making you jump at your desk. Turning away from the homework you had successfully avoided, your eyes flickered over to the half-opened window across your bedroom.

A tousled mop of brown poked up from behind the windowsill. Your chest tightened in momentary fear, and you briefly considered using your lamp as an impromptu weapon before the face came into view and you realized it was your neighbor.

Your neighbor who was somehow standing on your fire escape.

“Peter!” The exclamation was one more of disorientation than relief. “What-- How-- I could’ve been changing!”

His ears tinged pink, and you felt a twinge of guilt. Seeing you like that was obviously not his intent; he was here to talk. The thought made you happy. You spoke again to alleviate the awkwardness.

“Or stashing my super suit away. God forbid someone finds me out.” You punctuated the dumb joke with a smile, and Peter looked to you with an amused roll of the eyes.

“Very funny.”

Your previous nerves began to subside and you made a move to the window, pushing it up to open it wider.

“You climbed the wall?”

“That’s sorta my thing.”

“And you knew this was my room?”

“Well, yeah. But it-it’s only because I’m your neighbor. Not some stalker. That would be--” he coughed, “--that would be creepy. I’ve seen you on your fire escape before. Not intentionally or anything, but, uh, yeah.”

You inched closer to the window and realized he was wearing regular clothes; a blue sweater--- Or was it gray?--- thrown over a plaid button-up, and coupled with a pair of corduroys.

A Peter Parker outfit.

Not that you paid much attention to him, or his daily attire. Never.

“You’re lucky my window faces an alleyway,” you chastised the boy who climbed a wall to get here. “Otherwise--”

“I wouldn’t have done it otherwise.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to talk, I-I, um, don’t think my room is the best place to do it... My parents are home and I don’t want them getting the wrong idea.”

“I-I know.” He puckered his brow, the red creeping onto his cheeks. You’d noted by this point that flustered Peter was rather cute. “I was gonna suggest the roof actually.”

You’d been up here on occasion, but never routinely.

The apartment roof was basically a slab of tar, cluttered with exhaust ducts and vent pipes, as opposed to some lavishly furnished deck with an abundance of green life and lounge chairs. Hideous as it was, it did have its charms.

For instance, it offered an above average view of Queens that you couldn’t find on the city streets; you could even see Corona Park from here if you squinted hard enough.

Moreover, it rarely ever received visitors, consequently making it the perfect place to clear your head.

Or to learn the story behind your next-door-neighbor’s alter ego.

Peter was frankly surprised by how easy it was to explain everything to you. The radioactive spider, adjusting to his newfound powers, the whole shebang with the Avengers, Toomes and his weapon dealings, the Washington Monument escapade--- all that big stuff.

He refrained from mentioning things like Uncle Ben, and the sticky situation he got himself into with Liz. In the grand scheme of things though, he revealed much more than he thought he would.

And he was proud of himself for getting through it without fumbling for his words an excessive amount.

You sat on the ledge the whole time--- which made him a bit nervous--- silently absorbing the information, while giving a nod here and there. That was good, he supposed. You weren’t freaking out or growing giddy with excitement. No, you were contemplatively quiet.

“So... yeah,” he concluded his spiel with a loud exhalation. “That’s that, I guess.”

Looking to your face for any hint of judgement, amusement, satisfaction--- anything really--- he was met only with placidity. Silence fell over the two of you for what felt like several eternities. With agonizing slowness, you planted your feet back on the ground, turning around to face the city skyline, saying nothing.

Say something, say something, Peter silently pleaded, regretting everything in the span of seconds. This was a dumb idea, Peter. What did you get yourself into?

Looking over your shoulder, you regarded your stiff-appearing neighbor, and your chest swelled with this sudden feeling of unwonted adoration. Not necessarily because you were star-struck--- granted, the whole Spider-man thing was cool--- but you were met with this realization that Peter Parker was a good guy, a genuinely decent human being.

Finally, you gave a low whistle. Peter's shoulders seemed to sag in relief.

“Dang.” You couldn’t help but smile. “Does your aunt know?”

He threw his head back, releasing something halfway between a laugh and a groan. “God, no. She’d kill Mr. Stark and then me, probably.” You laughed with him, as he stepped closer to gaze at the skyline.

”And here, I thought you were just gonna give me the lowdown of your superpowers.”

I said too much, Peter thought again.

“Well, it-it’s just with everything that happened yester--” he said as you made a face at the mention, “--day... I figured you deserved a better explanation.”

“Ah.” You gave a tight-lipped laugh at the reminder, face flushed and failing to hide your chagrin. It made you look really cute for some reason. Well, maybe because you were really cute. That probably helped. “Man, I can’t even think about it without cringing. I’m sorry, Peter. It-- that must have been...”

“I didn’t mind.”

You quirked an eyebrow and Peter wanted to punch himself.

“I uh..! Didn’t mean it like that. I meant it like it wasn’t a big deal, not like I was turned on. Well, you're attractive, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t--” shut up, shut up, “oh god.”

You could feel your face flaming, but for reasons other than humiliation.

“You... you think I’m attractive?”

Peter was biting down on his knuckles, looking at anywhere but you. The air hung heavy in silence, save for the sound of the late-autumn wind and perpetual hubbub of the city streets below. He seemed to be swearing under his breath, while you stared at him with this burning persistence before he caught it and sighed in resignation.

“I mean if we’re being technical here,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “You’re-- yeah. Yeah.”

Peter--- to say the very, very least--- was dying of embarrassment.

This is what happens when you talk more than you should. Suddenly, Ned’s advice to simply say he was Spider-man and do “a backflip, or something” seemed a whole lot better of an idea than this. Yeah, a backflip would’ve sufficed.

He didn’t want to look at you, it was too weird. Peter tried fixing his eyes on the city.

“I mean, if we’re on the subject of admitting things,” you began, and he noticed you were rocking back and forth on your heels out of the corner of his eye, “I’ve always had a bit of a crush on you.”

He whipped his head around.

“What,” he spluttered, though the question came out flat.

He could have sworn he heard you wrong. You seemed flustered, but in a sweet way, not the uncomfortable-type way he had found you in before.

“I mean, yeah. I don’t want you to think I’m only saying that because I know you’re...” You made a silly web-shooting gesture instead of simply saying Spider-man. “But I admire the things you do. And the fact that you do it anonymously? That’s really cool of you.”

Peter felt himself blushing and brain short-circuiting, so nothing that came out of his mouth was particularly articulate.

“Pshh, I-- well, I’m not, it’s-- I-- you like me?”

He technically hadn’t let on any feelings of liking, which made you deflate a bit. But you were already neck-deep in this confession, so it was too late to take it back now.

“Yeah,” you said with an air laughter, amused by his wide eyed look. “I hope I didn't make this weird for you.”

You supposed it was too late to worry about whether or not you made things weird. You’d both been thrust into a weird situation to begin with.

“You-- you didn’t. I, I actually feel the same,” Peter smiled nervously. “About liking you, not, not the Spider-man stuff.”

“Oh,” he caught the pleasant lilt to your voice, “that’s nice.”

“Yeah, nice,” he echoed, and instantly regretted it. Be a little less uncool. Peter swallowed. “Listen though, (y/n). You’re gonna, uh, keep this all a secret, yeah?”

“You mean the liking me part?”

“Yes-- wait! No, I mean like the Spider-man part. Everything I told you before.”

“So,” you dragged out the syllable, stepping towards him, “everything after that doesn’t matter?”

“Yes. No. Well, it does I guess, but in terms of keeping it quiet-- not really.” He gave a shaky sigh. “But you promise not to say anything about...”

“My lips are sealed.” You noticed the way his eyes flickered down to your mouth when you said that. Daring to take a step closer, you looked up at him intently. “Do you trust me?”

“I... yes.”

It grew quiet.

His brown eyes almost looked gold, what with the way the setting sun casted light on them. The space between the two of you was small, and he seemed to be regarding you with the same subdued fervency as you had. There was a palpable tension, and a part of you told yourself to just kiss him, but it felt too sudden. Then again, this boy had just bared the last eight months of his life to you, how sudden could one kiss be?

You decided against it, lowering your eyes.

“Well, it’s getting late,” you said, disappointed in yourself for doing so. “I should probably head ba--”

With a burst of boldness--- and an inability to care about whether or not he’d regret this--- Peter lowered his head, pressing his lips to yours. You stumbled back a bit, and he caught your arm, holding you there for maybe a second or two, before pulling away and mumbling a quick apology.

He wasn’t entirely sorry though.

You blinked blearily back at him, in a bit of a daze. The kiss was soft and warm, and just like that, it was over.

Silence fell over the two of you. Finally, Peter gave a cough.

“I’ll see you around then? If you’re not busy, I mean. Maybe we could do something.”

“Right. Yeah.” You found yourself blushing. “I’d like that.”

He gave you a boyish, sloppy grin, and you could’ve sworn your heart stuttered. And with that, you made your leave.

Peter Parker decided to stay on the roof, just for a few minutes more. Assessing everything that just happened, he realized he was feeling good, great in fact. He liked you and trusted you and had just kissed you. 

With the benefit of hindsight, he supposed that whole shower situation wasn’t so bad after all.

A/N: The last of this was written in a caffeinated daze, but I was determined to get it finished before going to bed. I also made it so that Aunt May still doesn’t know about Peter being Spider-man, even though this imagine is clearly post-homecoming. But anyways, thanks for reading! xx

Tags: @kidensdouble88

[ramajmedia]

Friends: 5 Relationships Fans Were Behind (& 5 They Rejected)

Friends is a lot like real life, which is why so many fans love this popular 1990s sitcom. It's ten years of offering guidance, solace and direction for adults of all ages looking for career changes, how to overcoming relationship woes and navigating life itself. That said, one of the biggest takeaways among fans was the relationships we watched the six friends have or otherwise pursue over the course of the series; some were fan favorites, some not so much. Here are five relationships fans were behind, and five that they rejected.

10 Rejected: Rachel & Paolo

Paolo was honestly just a distraction for Rachel. It was never serious, so we never took it seriously. Plus, we were rooting for Ross to beat out Paolo for Rachel's heart and affections. We so badly wanted them to be together that we were simply annoyed with Paolo's presence and felt sorry for Ross who suffered because of it. This relationship never had a chance, and honestly, it's one that's best left forgotten.

9 Supported: Monica & Pete

It was adorable the way Pete actively pursued Monica as she worked in a diner where she was forced to don fake boobs and a wig. The millionaire took Monica to Italy for pizza on their first date. That's quite a start to a relationship and hard to top, but Pete finally manages to grasp the elusive Monica's attention, as she was previously avoiding him due to lack of attraction. They were happy together and it seemed like they had a promising...until Pete decided that he's got to become the "Ultimate Fighting Champion." Turns out, Pete's ambitious nature is also a fault: he doesn't know when to stop, and he tends to let his visions get in the way of his relationships, which ultimately tears him and Monica apart.

RELATED: 7 Reasons Ross And Rachel Really Were On A Break (& 3 Reasons They Weren't)

8 Rejected: Chandler & Janice

Let's face it: this relationship seemed to be solely for comedic purposes. Though the two were going strong and seemed to be truly in love with one another, it never seemed like it was meant to become anything more than casual dating. The two could never stay together for long, and Chandler wrestled with his feelings for Janice on more than one occasion. Joey certainly couldn't stand her from minute one (another comedic point), and to be honest, there were times when we couldn't stand her, either.

7 Supported: Monica & Richard

Surprisingly, fans seemed to be onboard with this mature relationship. Probably because the actor who played Richard was Magnum, P.I. star Tom Selleck. In any case, their relationship, although they had a significant age difference, was successful, happy and healthy. They respected and listened to one another, had a good time together and a good friendship in addition to a genuine romance. Monica struggles immensely following their break-up, which we certainly understood given how serious their relationship was. Yet, if she hadn't broken up with Richard, she never would've found her true love in Chandler.

RELATED: Friends: 10 Ross And Rachel Memes That Are Too Hilarious For Words

6 Rejected: Rachel & Tag

It's like Rachel was trying to reclaim a lost youth, having some kind of crisis when she decided to pursue Tag. Tag was several years her junior and even more unprofessionally, he was her assistant at Ralph Lauren. She hired him purely based on looks, not qualifications, which was a bad choice to begin with. Their age difference, alongside their personality clashes, clearly stated that they were never meant to be and would never last. No one was really supportive of this relationship, and no one was truly sorry to see Tag go.

5 Supported: Phoebe & Mike

Phoebe dated some strange guys. Guys with puppets, stalkers, and awkward scientists all showed up on her dating radar before she met Mike , who turned out to be the love of her life, despite the fact that Joey set her up with Mike by randomly shouting his name in Central Perk. Sometimes random works, and for someone as unique as Phoebe, it was a suiting way to find "the one." The two had their struggles (they briefly broke up because Mike didn't want to get married), but working through them was worth it and for us fans, we were only too happy to see Phoebe get her happy ending on a snowy street in a picturesque winter wedding.

RELATED: Friends: All Thanksgiving Episodes Ranked

4 Rejected: Ross & Emily

Sure, Emily  seems okay at first. She might have made a rude first impression, showing up soaking wet from the rain and irritable because of an unfortunate incident at the airport. Hey, she was having a bad day, so we cut her some slack. As time went on, we could see how happy Ross was with her, but when they rushed into marriage, we could see doomsday coming (and we were right, considering Ross said the wrong name at the altar). Emily's controlling and possessive nature stemming from that incident made us detest her (even if we could somewhat understand her insecurities), so we were glad when she and Ross broke things off for good.

3 Supported: Monica & Chandler

Monica and Chandler were perfect for one another. Though it began as a surprise hook-up in London, it transpired into a much more promising relationship. The two balanced each other out, from Chandler's efforts to relax Monica's uptight nature to Monica's endeavors to rid Chandler of his issues with commitment. They found a way to be together and work together, which gave them great happiness. The fact that they were friends first certainly helped their relationship along, and fans were only too happy to see them tie the knot and live out their happily ever after.

RELATED: 10 Episodes Of Friends That Aged Poorly

2 Rejected: Joey & Rachel

Fans vehemently rejected this relationship so passionately because they couldn't visualize Rachel being with anyone other than Ross. She and Ross were the couple, and they were always destined to end up together despite their rocky past. Joey and Rachel's relationship took far too long to even get off the ground, and when it did, it was just plain awkward. In one episode as the two attempt to get intimate, they keep making mistake after mistake (seriously, the one time Joey can't magically take off a bra?) and prove to one another that their relationship just isn't meant to be⁠—something the rest of us knew all along. While it had its sweet moments, the relationship was sadly never meant to end up any other way than sour.

1 Supported: Ross & Rachel

It's no secret they had what was probably the messiest relationship on the show. Their on-again, off-again nature didn't help much. It took forever for the two to discover and admit their feelings for one another, but when they did, kissing in Central Perk, the wait was worth it. Ross and Rachel went from "We were on a break!" to an ill-timed and drunken Las Vegas marriage to parenting and finally, a couple once more by the series' end. Yeah, it's still a headache to analyze their relationship. Yet fans never shied away from supporting Ross and Rachel getting back together. They were rewarded in the end, but it truly shows the dedication of the Friends fan base to hold onto hope to see Ross and Rachel in love again.

NEXT: Friends: The 10 Worst Things Rachel Has Ever Done, Ranked

source https://screenrant.com/friends-best-worst-relationships/

[r3almellow]

Nothing More Chapter 1

A/N: I posted this on FF about a week ago, but figured I’d post here as well! This is my first ever NaLu fic and I really hope you guys like it! Not sure how long the fic will be but just enjoy the ride, yeah? 

Rating: M

Ship: Nalu

Series: Fairy Tail

You can also read chapter 1 and 2 here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12311371/1/Nothing-More

xxx

It was cold. It was also raining. It was cold and raining. Two things that shouldn't be happening when you're an hour walk away from home and you're only clad in a short blue sundress and open toe sandals. Of course the day twenty-three-year-old Lucy Heartfilia decided walking to the mall and looking cute while doing so was great idea, the weather wanted to make her it's bitch. It was supposed to be a beautiful sunny day. Perfect for a walk around the city, but now…

She could have called any of her friends for help, but of course they'd all be away at the moment. Juvia was most likely off at another one of Gray's photoshoots. Levy was three hours away at a publishing seminar. There was no hope in asking Erza who was currently swamped with work down at the precinct. And there was no way in hell Lucy would ever drive with Cana again.

She had half a mind to call her father, but for the sake of her sanity that had to be a last resort.

Lucy could almost hear him voice his discontent for her living out in the city where he couldn't watch her. He'd send twenty cars to her aid if given the opportunity. Definitely not happening. The bus was another option, but being stuck in a cramped bus for even ten minutes wasn't really ideal.

"Maybe if I run," Lucy thought to herself. Sure she'd get soaked, but hoping into comfortable warm clothes was much better than this.

Lucy stood inside the mall staring out one of its many doors leading to the exit as people hurriedly ran to their vehicles.

"Need a ride?" A familiar voice calls out making Lucy's spine tingle. What were the odds it was someone else and she wouldn't see a salmon haired man, who she had been avoiding, standing behind her? Of course fate was unkind as she finds Natsu Dragneel, her best friend, right in front of her with shopping bags in his hands. She noticed he wasn't sporting his usual grin as he walked closer to her.

She blinks blankly for second before answering. "Natsu? What are you doing here?"

He motions to the bags he was carrying. "Got a date with Lisanna tonight figured I'd pick up a few things." Ah yes, his beloved girlfriend and one of Lucy's good friends. All around sweetheart Lisanna Strauss. Lisanna was also part of the reason why Lucy kept her distance from the two of them. What was the problem exactly? Well, when you find yourself completely drunk and trying to make out with your friend it's a bit hard to face them right after.

A few weeks ago had been Cana's birthday and like any party Cana has ever thrown, you were expected to drink. And boy did Lucy drink. It had gotten to the point where Natsu was called to take the blonde home. Lucy couldn't remember much after that, but she would never forget the way his lips felt against hers as she pulled him in for a kiss. The way his lips tasted of cinnamon and spice as she moaned into his mouth. Probably topped the list of the most embarrassing things she's ever done and when you're with Natsu that was a long list.

Natsu had joked it off saying that alcohol makes people do crazy things, but it didn't change the fact that she kissed him knowing he was with someone else. Lucy admitted to herself long ago that she was in love with the man she spent years being around. Would Natsu ever know? It was highly unlikely. She'd rather be around as a friend than not around because he'd turn her away. If this was as close to him as she was going to get then she wouldn't complain. However, as of late, she wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

"So, did you need a ride or…?" He trails off looking outside at the darkened clouds. Lucy follows his gaze out the doors. There was no way she was going to be able to run all the way home. She battled with herself for a moment and while she really wasn't looking forward to this, accepted his offer.

Five minutes into their journey the tension was so thick it was almost hard for Lucy to breathe until Natsu finally broke the ice.

"You've been avoiding me," He says flatly.

She quickly turns to look at him not knowing what to say. "I-I've just been under the radar these past few days."

"For three weeks?" A pang of guilt rose within Lucy. It wasn't her intentions to ignore him the way she did, but the thought of what happened made it almost impossible to face him. If she didn't see him then it didn't happen. Out of sight, out of mind.

"Natsu I-"

"Happy misses you." He cuts her off still not looking in her direction. Happy was Natsu's odd colored cat who had been in Natsu's life just as long as Lucy had been in his. Happy had been a kitten on the street when Natsu had found him. A few kids had been tormenting the cat for its blue fur when Natsu stepped in and took him home. And by "stepped in", he actually beat those kids to a pulp and gave Happy a good home. Happy had immediately taken a liking to Lucy when Natsu would bring him around. Always nuzzling against her leg or passed out in her lap. Happy was adorable, but was also very mischievous.

"Only thing that fur-ball misses are nicely prepared fishes and my bed." That earned her a light chuckle from him, loosening the tension between the two.

Lucy gave him a small smile. "I really am sorry, Natsu. I just…I didn't want things getting weird between us."

He gave her a quizzical look. "Weird?"

Lucy bites down on her bottom lip trying to find the right words. "Yes, weird… Because I did the thing…"

"You mean when you kissed me?" He asks.

Lucy blushes slightly and turns to look out the window. How could he say that so casually? "I fell on your lips… Big difference."

"So having your tongue shoved down my throat doesn't equate to a kiss?" He gave her smug look before wincing as she smacks his arm lightly. "Shut up! Only you would joke about something like that!"

"What? I hear you're not really best friends if you haven't kissed at least once! That means we made it official!" Lucy places her face in her hands and groans loudly. "You are impossible! How does Lisanna even deal with you?"

Natsu simply shrugs as he pulls up in front of her apartment building. "Must be my boyish charm.", He wiggles his eyebrows as Lucy rolls her eyes at him. "And don't worry, the kiss didn't mean anything so it's no big deal." That really didn't make her feel better.

"Are we okay now? I really miss you!", He pouts causing Lucy to giggle and nod happily. "I missed you too!"

His smile fades as he shows a look feigned with seriousness. "Good because the next time you want to go into hiding you better believe I'll find you, Lucy Heartfilia. You know I'm not afraid to scale a fire escape and break in!" She knew he'd be crazy enough to do it too.

She giggles. "Now you sound like a stalker! What are you going to do next, kidnap me?"

"You say kidnapping I say making sure I have you by my side, so I can see your face at all times!" Lucy bursts out laughing at his overall lameness. She really did miss this.

The pair spoke for a good ten minutes allowing the rain to let up to a light drizzle before they said their goodbyes. Once inside her apartment Lucy sighs heavily as she throws herself onto her couch.

Natsu really was impossible, but she couldn't imagine her life without him. This was the guy that picked a fight with anyone who would so much as dare look at Lucy the wrong way and would do anything to make her smile. Sure he's loud, often times obnoxious, and loves picking fights with the wrong people, but that was her best friend. And that was all he would ever be.

A small frown formed on Lucy's lips at the thought. Was it bad that she was jealous of Lisanna? That was her friend and she was jealous because she got a part of Natsu, Lucy knew she could never have. What kind of friend would feel like this knowing her two friends were happy? "A horrible one…," She thought to herself.

Lucy buries her face deeper into the soft cushions of her couch and sighs. She really needs to get over this whole unrequited love thing so she can live a decent life. Natsu Dragneel is a good guy who's in a good place with his girlfriend. Lucy was going to support them because that's what friends do. Now if only her heart would understand that concept.

xxx

A/N: Did you guys enjoy it?!! I really hope so!! Please look out for more! And also....shameless advertisement, but @x-benihime‘s Heartstrung fic is beautiful and I don’t understand how anyone could not love it!! PLEASE CHECK OUT THAT MASTERPIECE!!