#and the whole wall thing yikes

[your-stranger-halfblood-things]

Will: Can I hold this?

Mike: That's my hand...

Will: I was just thinking...

Mike: Yes- please hold it

Will *smiles*

[justabunchofdragons]

o... .. .,,, ! !!! i am very happy with where i am in this moment

[thatferrybroad]

Any bets on how they're gonna discreetly show doom is now a white dude? middle school american football pennant in his lab or something? Coors light bottles? keys to an american made truck?

[punkshort]

Swept Away | Chapter 7: Making Waves

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel receives some exciting news, meanwhile you're having one of the worst nights of your life.

Chapter Warnings: language, sugar daddy/baby dynamics, alcohol and food consumption, jealousy, sexual tension, flirting, physical violence against reader (not Joel), verbal abuse towards reader, blood/bruising related to an injury, feral Joel came to play, anxiety, insecurities, possessive behavior, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex

WC: 10K (yikes)

Series Masterlist

Everything was the same it always was, but somehow also different.

Admittedly, the morning following the art gallery you awoke terrified Joel would ice you out again. You stayed in bed as long as you could, texting Celine just to avoid the inevitable heartbreak, but much to your surprise you heard a knock on your door around ten in the morning.

"Hey," Joel peeked his head into your room and you dropped your phone to your mattress. "You okay? You don't usually sleep this late."

"Yeah," you replied, voice still thick with sleep so you cleared your throat. "Just, uh, taking it easy and..." you trailed off and dropped your gaze to the floor.

"Avoidin' me?"

Your eyes snapped up just to find him leaning against your doorframe with his arms crossed and a teasing smirk on his face.

"Maybe," you whispered, plucking nervously at your comforter. He pushed off the wall and walked over to your side of the bed, then reached out to tame some of the hair around your ear.

"Gonna give me a taste and take it away, that it?"

Your cheeks felt hot and the butterflies in your stomach stirred to life, but you managed to shake your head and hold his gaze. "N-no. I just thought you might've regretted it again."

He sighed and he stopped playing with your hair so he could cup your cheek. "I never regretted it," he told you softly, then leaned down to press a tender kiss against your lips. "Not then and not now," he added before pulling away, leaving you breathless. "Now c'mon, your breakfast is gettin' cold," he said when he turned to walk out of your room.

And that was all that was ever said on the subject.

Now, a handful of days later, everything was business as usual. You still slept in your separate rooms and you went to restaurants together but the air around you was different. It felt charged whenever you were together. A lingering glance here, a gentle touch there reminded you something had definitely changed. Something that went unlabeled and unspoken and you didn't dare try. As much as you wished to take things further and try to get Joel to open up more, you refrained because you could sense he was growing impatient with Glenn and you didn't want to sour his mood even more.

He was running out of time and Joel told you he needed to step things up. So far, Glenn had avoided talking much business and spent most of the time just getting to know everyone better. Joel never pushed him. He saw how Glenn reacted when Zachary or Harry tried to bring up business and it wasn't good, so he bided his time and waited. But now he was feeling the pressure.

"Can't just spend an entire fuckin' month here for nothin'," he grumbled one afternoon as he paced around the hotel. You watched him from your spot on the sofa, still clad in your bikini from spending time by the pool that morning.

You chewed your lip nervously, his anxious energy transferring to you. "How important is it that you win?"

His eyes flickered over to yours and scoffed. "Real fuckin' important. If I get this spot, The Parador would become a household name. The revenue stream from this spot alone would be higher than all my other hotels combined. It would open up a whole new world of opportunities for my business."

Joel rolled his shoulder like he was trying to work out a tight muscle and you pursed your lips. Maybe you just hadn't given it much thought, but it sounded like a much bigger deal than you originally imagined.

"It's about exclusivity," Joel continued, "there's only so much space on this island. Only the best of the best build here, and the world fuckin' knows it. It's why they want to travel to this particular island - they want to experience a level of comfort and luxury they've never known before in the most beautiful place in the world."

"Well, did he say when he was going to make a decision?"

"Said by the end of the trip but no one's even had a chance to give 'em their sales pitch yet," he said, raking his fingers through his hair.

"Maybe he doesn't need the sales pitch," you said, picking up your phone. He stopped pacing and eyed you up.

"What'dya mean?"

You let your phone hang limply in your hand and you looked back up at him.

"Well, he knows what you're all about. He knows what kind of hotels all of you run and how successful you are. He doesn't care what your vision is or what will make your hotel different. But what he does care about is this island."

Joel frowned and slowly sunk into the couch opposite you.

"What else?"

Your lips turned downward and shrugged. "He cares about this island and its people. He wants to make sure the person he picks for this land will respect it and the people who live here. I mean, think about it. Guy could live anywhere but he built a huge mansion right here. His kids live here. His daughter is dedicating her career to helping local artists find success. He loves it here, Joel. He just wants someone who will love it back."

He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable until he abruptly stood and in two long strides, closed the distance between you. He grabbed the sides of your head and pulled you up for a deep kiss, the suddenness of it stopping you from responding right away. Just when your brain caught up and your lips began to massage his, he pulled away with a huge smile.

"You're so fuckin' smart, y'know that? Jesus Christ, why didn't I see that?"

You grinned, trying to hide the pleased look on your face by shaking your head and turning away.

"What can I say? I have my moments," you shrugged when you sat back down on the couch. "Guess you got more than you bargained for with me," you added with a laugh.

"Oh, I knew that already," Joel said with a wink. Your cheeks warmed and you looked down at your phone with a stupid smile stretched across your face. It was moments like those when you heard the voice inside your head scream at you to ask the obvious question: what did you mean to him?

He kissed you like you were his girlfriend, but he never invited you into his bedroom. He had said he wanted more, but had yet to try. Was he waiting for you to make a move? You had been practically throwing yourself at him for the past week, there was no way you were going to do that again.

Joel had dialed someone who worked for him, completely oblivious to the confusion swirling around in your head. Instead, he was excitedly conveying the breakthrough you had about Glenn to the man on the other end and began to talk strategy. Already feeling bored, you decided to get up and go take a shower so you were ready for dinner, but as you were walking back towards your bedroom, you heard Joel say quietly into his phone, "No, I didn't even think of it. My girl did."

My girl.

Oh, you could get used to that.

"Aren't you bored as hell when Joel runs off to hang with the guys?" Zoe asked over dinner. Ironically, you had picked the same restaurant as Lynne and Tammy, who also invited Ian, for dinner. You didn't know Ian very well but from the look of it, he seemed to be caught in the middle. He tossed a few glances your way and gave you each friendly smiles, but Lynne and Tammy ignored you completely. However, based on their body language, you had a strong feeling they were most definitely talking about the two of you.

"Sometimes," you admitted. You shot the waiter a smile when he placed two drinks on the table. You each quickly grabbed them, clinking your glasses together before taking a long sip.

"Well, only one more week and then you'll have him all to yourself again, lucky girl," she said with a flirty wink. You thought you responded but you couldn't be sure because she had unexpectedly knocked you sideways. One more week? Christ, where did the time go? And what would happen between you and Joel when you got back home? Would he really just pay you and disappear from your life forever? The thought made you sick to your stomach and you had to put your drink down.

"You okay?" Zoe asked, furrowing her brows. "You look a little queasy."

"No, I'm fine," you said quickly, waving her off. "Just hungry."

"Sure you're not pregnant?" she teased. You laughed and pointed to your drink.

"Would be a little irresponsible of me, wouldn't it?"

You were so grateful for Zoe. She was a safe place when you were feeling lonely or insecure and it made you sad you wouldn't be able to keep in touch once the trip was over. How could you? If you did, she would eventually figure out you were hired, just like she was, to accompany Joel to the island.

Maybe it was the two devastating reality checks in a row but you had a hard time snapping out of your funk. You tried, you really did, but you couldn't stop thinking about losing Joel and Zoe so soon. It didn't help matters when she got a text from Zachary telling her the night with Glenn on his boat was going long and not to bother staying up.

She sighed with relief and flicked her hair over her shoulder before glancing around the dining room, murmuring to you about how she could use a night off while you just stared down at your phone, waiting for a similar text from Joel.

Nothing.

My girl.

You took a deep breath, trying to tamp down the insecurity, but it was hard. It was so fucking hard. Why was it always so difficult with Joel? Why did it always feel like whenever you took one step forward, you take two steps back? Did he even like you? You thought he did, but maybe you were wrong. Maybe he was just treating you like a sugar baby this whole time and you stupidly thought -

Your phone buzzed on the table and when you saw Joel's name pop up, relief instantly swept through you and all your nagging self-doubt faded away.

Going to be late, sweetheart. I'm sorry but I got a good feeling - finally getting somewhere with Glenn

You smiled, despite not being able to see him the rest of the night, he thought enough to text you and he called you sweetheart.

Right when you were about to reply, he texted you again.

I'll make it up to you ;)

You must have looked flustered because Zoe cleared her throat and quirked an eyebrow at you when you finally tore your eyes away from your phone.

"Do you have something to share with the class?"

You shook your head and tried to hide your smile behind your hand but failed. Still, Zoe peered curiously across the table and read Joel's last text upside down. She gave you a jealous pout and sat back in her chair.

"Not fair. You're so lucky," she sighed. "I think once Zachary and I are done, I'm going to quit."

"What?!" you quietly exclaimed. She nodded and shrugged.

"I'm done with it. It was fun, I got to travel a lot, have nice things and meet cool people but I need to think about my future, you know? And there's, like, a zero percent fucking chance I'll meet the love of my life being a sugar baby."

You nodded, struggling to figure out what to do with a sharp pang in your chest. Was it so impossible to think anything serious could come from a relationship with a sugar daddy? Luckily, Zoe continued.

"I look at you guys and I'm just reminded of what I could have, y'know? All I want is a guy who looks at me the way Joel looks at you."

Jesus Christ, Zoe was shaking you up and she didn't even know it.

"H-how does he look at me?"

Zoe rolled her eyes at you before saying, "C'mon, you know. He can't keep his eyes off you. He's so fucking into you, it's sick."

You laughed at that, a sharp little bark of disbelief, but then quickly corrected yourself. You had to change the subject, your emotions were splintering and you were desperate to talk about something lighter, but before you did, you sent Joel a text.

Can't wait ;)

Shoving your phone back into your purse, you turned your attention back to Zoe, frowning when you saw the sour look on her face as she finished her drink.

"What?"

She leaned across the table and lowered her voice. "Don't turn around but Trevor and Brooks are at the bar."

Your stomach twisted into knots and you took another drink, grateful to see your food arriving if just for the distraction alone.

"Wonder why they aren't on the boat with everyone else," you mumbled before stabbing a piece of pasta with your fork.

"I heard Brooks didn't want to go and Glenn sent Trevor to keep an eye on him," Zoe told you mischievously.

"How the hell do you hear all this gossip?" you asked after you wiped the shocked look off your face. Zoe giggled and swallowed a bite of her salmon.

"I get bored, I eavesdrop."

"Damn, either Joel doesn't hear this stuff or he doesn't care because the only phone calls I hear from him are work calls," you said before offering her a bite of your dish. She eagerly accepted and gave you some salmon in return. "Wonder why Glenn thought Brooks needed a babysitter," you said after another moment.

Zoe put her fork down and gave you a look that told you she knew way more than she should, so you mimicked her and set your fork down as well to give her your full attention.

"I don't think Glenn and Mary trust Brooks to carry on the business once he retires," Zoe said, glancing once over your shoulder at the bar. "I don't know why but that night at Glenn's house, I went to the bathroom and overheard Mary telling Brooks this is your last chance, or something like that."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and slowly leaned back in your seat. So it wasn't just you who thought something was off about him. Then Joel's comment about drug use slipped back into your brain and you were about to tell her but you decided to bite your tongue at the last minute. You trusted Zoe, but you didn't want to betray Joel. So instead, you kept your mouth shut and played dumb.

"That's... crazy," you said, fumbling for words. It didn't seem to bother Zoe because she just nodded and picked up her fork.

"I know, right? Kind of humbling to know Glenn and Mary don't have the perfect little family we all thought."

When the waiter approached, you assumed he was coming to check on your food, but instead he held in his hand a bottle of champagne. "From Mr. Miller with his sincerest apologies," the waiter had said, making you blush when Zoe gave you an incredulous look. As sweet as it was, you really hoped that's not what he meant by 'making it up to you'. After the champagne was poured and the waiter left, placing the bottle on ice first, she pretended to stab your arm with her fork.

"What the hell, girl? Maybe I need to get a front desk job for some billionaire so I can find my own Joel."

You giggled and took a sip from your glass, the bubbles popping on your tongue. It could have been a three hundred dollar bottle of champagne or a ten dollar bottle, it didn't matter to you. The mere fact Joel figured out where you went for dinner and sent something over was astounding to you and you prayed you were reading the signals right.

"I should thank him," you said, pulling your phone back out to send him a quick text.

You didn't need to do that, but thank you :)

In less than a minute, you got your reply.

No need to thank me, baby - enjoy and I'll see you tomorrow

"Looks like your man's little gift caught someone's eye," Zoe said with a grin. You followed her gaze to Tammy and Lynne's table, catching the nasty look they were sending your way before they turned around and you giggled into your palm.

"She's still pissed with me because I almost pulled all her hair out at the art gallery the other night."

Zoe's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. "Excuse me?!"

You laughed and stood up from the table, dropping your napkin on your chair before grabbing your purse. "I'll tell you all about it after I use the restroom."

She made a pained squeak, disgruntled you were leaving her hanging, but you just grinned and stepped away.

"You better be quick!" she shouted after you. Fuck, you were really going to miss hanging out with her.

Despite the looming conclusion to your trip, you were feeling pretty good. At least, in that moment, things felt like they were going well with Joel and you were having a nice time at dinner, even though Tammy had just been staring daggers at you.

The one thing you somehow managed to forget about was Brooks, who unfortunately exited the men's bathroom just as you were searching for the women's room.

"Well, look who it is," Brooks said when he spotted you. You tried to give him a polite smile but you weren't sure you succeeded.

"Oh, hi," was all you said when you tried to squeeze past him. Right as you passed, his hand shot out to grab your arm and you swiveled around.

"You ladies having a nice time?" he asked with a toothy smile. His dark eyes bored into you and if you looked close enough, you could see his pupils were like pinpricks. Then his hand casually swiped against his nostrils and you figured out what he had just been doing in the bathroom.

"Yeah, thanks. This place is nice," you said, taking a subtle step backwards before hooking your thumb over your shoulder. "Excuse me," you added, and before he could say anything else you turned on your heel and headed for the women's room a few feet away, relaxing once you heard the door swing closed behind you.

After you used the bathroom and washed your hands, you were fixing your hair and makeup in the mirror, your thoughts back on Joel, mind wandering to what exactly he meant by I'll make it up to you later when the door flung open. You hardly had a chance to process what was happening until Brooks locked the door and turned on you, sending a hot jolt of fear through your entire body.

"Listen, I'm gonna be straight up with you," he said, pinching the tip of his nose. His eyes looked a little red in the bright lighting of the bathroom and you could see beads of sweat collecting at his temples. You tried to create more room but your back was already pressed against the sink: you had nowhere to go.

"I know what your deal is," he told you, his hands fidgeting at his sides. "I know you're only into that old fuck for his money but I can promise you, I'm about to have double what he's got."

You blinked slowly, struggling to keep your breathing even. Your entire body was rigid, muscles tense and straining under your skin, and your heart was pounding so loudly, you could feel it in your ears. How could he possibly know?

"W-what?" you stammered. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Brooks's arm darted up from his side to grip the back of your hair too roughly, making you cry out in surprise and grab onto his forearm.

"C'mon, don't play games with me. I know a gold digger when I see one. And that's perfectly fucking fine. I don't care! Mad respect. What I'm trying to tell you is I could give you so much more than him," Brooks told you, taking a step closer so his hips pinned you against the sink. You whimpered and tugged at his wrist but he wouldn't budge. "I got more money and live in fucking paradise, baby," he said, trying to sound seductive as he leaned forward and tugged your earlobe between his teeth, making you recoil in disgust.

"Get off me!" you shouted, shoving him backwards as hard as you could. It worked. He let go of the back of your head when he stumbled away, but unfortunately it only served to piss him off.

"Are you fucking serious?" he seethed, expression turning stormy as he closed the distance between you and grabbed the back of your neck so suddenly, you were too stunned to react. "Do you even realize what I'm offering you, here?"

"I don't care," you said, scratching frantically at the back of his hand, body writhing as you tried to escape. Your engagement ring caught on his skin, tearing it and making him hiss. "I don't want anything to do with you! Get the fuck away from me!" You tried to push him again but he was ready for it that time. He grabbed your wrists with one big hand and yanked your head backwards so your back was arched over the sink. Your eyes filled with tears as you squirmed and tried to wiggle out of his grasp to no avail.

"Dumb bitch," he snarled. "You could have someone younger with more money. Thousands of women would jump at this chance but you're too fucking stupid, huh?"

Amidst the tears, anger ripped through you and without even thinking twice, you twisted around in his grasp to sink your teeth into his hand. Brooks inhaled sharply and cursed under his breath, dropping your wrists but keeping a firm hold on the back of your neck. You shoved at him again, over and over, trying your hardest to loosen his grip so you could make a run for it, but you just weren't strong enough. And maybe it was the drugs coursing through his veins or his ego took too big of a hit, but you didn't anticipate what happened next:

He let you go.

At first, you thought someone had stepped in, but when your panicked eyes darted around the room, you found you were still alone. The sudden freedom made you hesitate and it probably wouldn't have made a difference anyway, but later you would wonder if maybe you had reacted faster, it would have saved you alot of hurt and pain.

"Stop fucking shoving me, I'm trying to change your miserable little life," he growled, lunging forward to push your chest with all his might. His strength sent you flying backwards but you managed to catch yourself before you hit the back of your head on the porcelain of the sink. As a result, you twisted around and smacked your mouth on the edge of the vanity. Pain instantly bloomed under your lips and you feebly cupped your mouth, whimpering in agony as blood began to trickle through your fingers.

"Look what you did!" Brooks roared, and by now you could hear Trevor's voice in the hallway. Tears streamed down your cheeks, mixing with the blood and dripping onto the white tile floor. You sobbed into your hands and tried to hide under the sink because at that point, you had no idea what he was capable of doing.

You had squeezed your eyes shut and braced for the impact of a fist or a foot but thankfully, none came. Had you the courage to open your eyes, you would have seen him come to the sobering realization of what he just did when he saw your blood on the floor. He swiped his hand anxiously over his mouth, eyes darting around the room while you cowered in fear, and slowly backed away towards the door.

"Brooks! Open the goddamn door!" Trevor's voice came from the hallway, his tone quiet to avoid any attention but still laced with anger. He did as his brother asked, shakily undoing the lock and brushing past him, and Trevor glanced into the room before the door shut. His eyes widened and his jaw fell open when he saw the state you were in and rushed inside.

"Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry," he murmured, crouching down next to you. "What can I do? T-tell me what to do!"

"Get ... Zoe," you choked out between sobs. He nodded and backed away slowly, still unable to believe what he was seeing before he rushed down the hallway.

Zoe sprung into action the moment she saw you in the bathroom and you had never felt so grateful for anyone in your life. She got you out of there before anyone could see and ushered you quickly into the waiting car by the curb. It wouldn't be until later that you discovered it was Trevor who ordered the car on standby while Zoe was doing her best to clean you up before getting you out of there. She must have been rattled because her hands were shaking but you never would have known it by the way she spoke and took control.

By the time you got back to the hotel, the sun had set and the lobby was relatively empty. You kept your tear soaked face tilted towards the floor with a napkin pressed against your mouth to stem the bleeding as Zoe led you to the elevators. Once you were in the safety and privacy of your room, you released a haggard sob that was a mix of relief and frustration.

"Let's get you to the bathroom," she said, taking you by the shoulders after kicking both your shoes off in the foyer.

While you were having a decidedly terrible fucking evening, Joel had been having the exact opposite experience on Glenn's boat. Somewhere tucked inside your purse, which was abandoned on the dining room table next to a handful of bloody tissues, your phone lit up with a text from Joel:

Heading back now - hope you're still up bc Glenn pulled me aside 10 min ago and told me he's giving me the fucking land! We gotta celebrate baby

It was late. You never answered his text so he assumed you were in bed, but fuck... maybe he should wake you up.

He got the fucking land.

Glenn didn't announce it yet, but he planned to soon. Joel finally felt like he could relax and maybe enjoy what little time you had left together. He tried not to think too hard about that last part and just focused on the present, like following through with his promise to you.

As he swiped his card through the reader, he smirked to himself, thinking of all the ways he could make things up to you, then froze when he walked into the foyer and saw an unfamiliar pair of high heels by the door. His gaze traveled up and saw all the lights were still on.

That was unusual.

He took a few tentative steps inside, expecting to maybe see you and Zoe by the pool or in the living room, but he was wrong. And it was way too quiet.

He called out your name as he ventured further into the room and then two things happened at once: right as Zoe emerged from the bathroom with a shaken look on her face, Joel saw the pile of bloody tissues next to your purse on the table.

Something was wrong.

His eyes darted up to Zoe's and she held up her hands, palms out, before shakily saying, "There was an accident-"

"Where is she?" he asked. He could feel his throat closing up and his chest beginning to squeeze tight. Fuck, it was hard to breathe.

"She's okay, but she's got a busted lip and -"

Joel tore past Zoe in the blink of an eye, noticing the light on underneath your closed bathroom door. He knocked urgently, saying, "It's me, open up," but you didn't answer. He could feel the anxiety taking hold and flooding his veins with adrenaline. His hands trembled when he knocked again.

"She's a little shook up," Zoe explained from behind him. He dragged his palms nervously over his face and turned to her.

"What happened?"

Zoe opened and closed her mouth, unsure how to answer. "I only got a little bit out of her, but she was attacked in the women's room at the restaurant."

"Attacked?" Joel repeated incredulously. It was so much worse than he thought.

Zoe nodded right when the bathroom door clicked unlocked. You opened it a crack and went back to curl up in the empty spa bath with the pillow and blanket Zoe had brought for you from the living room.

"I can't get her to go lay down in your bedroom," Zoe explained before Joel nodded and pushed the door open. The first thing he saw was the counter filled with bloodied white washcloths and tissues, the sight more than a little horrifying but when he saw your reflection in the mirror, he swiveled around with a jolt.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered, then rushed to the edge of the tub and fell to his knees. He reached out to cup your face; your puffy, swollen, bruised up face.

His eyes never stopped moving. They darted everywhere, taking in every single detail, but mostly lingering on your split lower lip and the bright purple bruise blooming below your eye. His thumb traced gently over your cheek and he felt a sharp twist in his chest when you winced.

"What happened?" he asked you softly.

You sniffled and shook your head but he pinched your chin and made you look him directly in the eye.

"Baby, what happened?" he asked again, "Someone attacked you? Did you call the cops?"

Again, you shook your head then glanced at Zoe over his shoulder.

"Just tell him, babe," she said encouragingly. You sighed and pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

"Promise me you won't get mad," you began, voice thick and gravelly from crying. Joel pinched his eyebrows together and dropped his hand from your chin.

"I ain't gonna be mad at you, sweetheart," he whispered. You watched him swallow and you took a deep breath.

"Brooks cornered me," you finally admitted, tears stinging your tired eyes. "He followed me into the bathroom and locked the door. He - he said some nasty fucking shit and got mad when I told him to leave."

Joel's nostrils flared, his eyes scorching with rage.

"But I pushed him, Joel. I pushed him and so he pushed me back and then I fell into the sink and -"

"Why'd you push him, honey?" he asked, trying to sound calm but you could hear the anger simmering below the surface.

"Because... he kept grabbing me and wouldn't let go. Like, around my neck and hair. He wanted-"

"I know what he wanted," Joel said darkly, pushing himself up to stand then turned to acknowledge Zoe. "Can you stay with her for an hour?"

Zoe nodded and your eyes went wide.

"Joel-"

"It's alright, sweetheart. I'm gonna take care of it."

He stormed out of the bathroom, fists clenched at his sides, trying desperately to contain his anger but his face felt hot and his jaw already ached from how hard he was grinding his teeth.

You scrambled out of the tub, knocking your knee painfully against the porcelain, and raced after him. "Joel! You can't!"

"I'll be back in an hour," was all he said before snatching his wallet from the table and disappearing out into the hall.

"It'll be okay," Zoe said, appearing at your side to rub your back. "Why don't we try to put ice on your lip again?"

You wiped at your nose with the back of your hand and nodded, allowing her to refresh the washcloth with ice and getting you settled on the couch before stepping away to call Zachary to let him know where she was. She had clicked the button on the fireplace remote before she stepped outside to make her call so you stared blankly into the flames while praying Joel didn't do something incredibly stupid.

Joel was gone more than an hour. Zoe sat with you underneath a shared blanket while you watched some mindless television show and iced your face. The bleeding stopped long ago but the pain was beginning to set in, so she got you some ibuprofen and forced you to drink extra water, assuring you it would help.

By the time Joel finally returned, your eyes were beginning to droop but when you heard the door click open, you got a sudden burst of energy.

Sitting up straight and tugging the blanket around your knees, you craned your neck around, waiting for him to appear. He stepped in from the foyer a little disheveled but otherwise seemed fine, but when he locked eyes with you, you knew something happened.

"Thanks, Zoe. I'm sure Zach's worried 'bout you."

His voice was deep and commanding, eyes never leaving yours. She immediately stood, giving you one more hug and whispering in your ear to call if you needed anything, then gathered her things to leave.

You remained planted on the couch, unable to tear your eyes away from the look on Joel's face. When the front door clicked shut, signifying you were finally alone, his shoulders visibly sagged then he marched over to the couch.

Without a word, he scooped you up in his arms, blanket and all, and took you down the hall towards your bedroom. Now that you were closer, you could see some red marks on his cheek and neck, but you didn't have much time to dwell on it because to your surprise, Joel turned left instead of right, taking you into his room.

You hardly were ever in his room. The door was always closed when you walked by and your memory was hazy but you remembered it was bigger and he had his own bathroom attached. He carefully set you down on his bed, the side that remained untouched, before disappearing into his bathroom. You took a second to look around the now well lived in room. All around you were pieces of Joel: reading glasses, crumpled pieces of paper and a chapstick on his nightstand, a phone charger dangling from the wall next to his bed, a few articles of clothing were scattered around along with discarded shoes. If it didn't hurt to smile, you would have because you finally learned something new about Joel Miller: he was messy.

"Did you disinfect it?" Joel asked when he stepped back into the room with a wet towel. You slowly shook your head. You and Zoe had been more concerned about stopping the bleeding and then worried about damage to your teeth to really think about disinfectant.

He nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed, then beckoned you to come forward. You scooted closer and stretched out your neck, giving him better access to your face. He dabbed carefully at your lip, his eyes stormy while he still fought with the remnants of his adrenaline. When your eyes met, his gaze softened and he slowly dropped his hand to his lap.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, the emotion in his voice bewildering you.

"It's not your fault," you countered, but he shook his head and dropped his chin to his chest.

"Shoulda been there. Been leavin' you alone too much -"

"That's okay, Joel. That's why we're here, right? You need to do whatever it takes to get that land."

His heart sank and he closed his eyes. You obviously still hadn't checked your phone but he didn't bother telling you the news, anyway, because after what he just did to Brooks, he was certain that land was no longer his.

"You oughta get some rest, darlin'," he said softly while standing to head back into his bathroom. He dropped the washcloth into the tub, glancing briefly at his knuckles now that he had stepped out of the darkness of his bedroom. He did a piss poor job cleaning them up but he didn't care. He was exhausted and just wanted to go to bed.

When he came back into the bedroom, he frowned when he saw you with your hand on the doorknob.

"What're you doin'?"

You turned back to him and when he saw your face again, it felt like all the air got knocked out of him.

It's a miracle Joel didn't kill him.

"I'm... going back to my room," you replied, your voice so small and weak that it broke his heart. He shook his head and pointed back to the bed, right where you were sitting.

"Stay," he said, then softened his voice and added, "please."

Your hand dropped to your side immediately and you looked around. "My pajamas-"

"I'll get 'em," he said, pointing to the bed again. "Rest," he told you when he walked across the room, taking you gently by the shoulders and guiding you towards his bed. You did as you were told while he hurried across the hall for your clothes, then stopped at your bathroom for your toothbrush before returning and shutting the door.

You thanked him softly and disappeared into his bathroom to wash up. Joel nervously paced around his room, tossing his dirty clothes into an ever growing pile near the closet before tugging on a white tshirt and slipping into bed.

Shyly, you stepped out of the bathroom wearing a loose fitting cotton tank top and matching shorts. You looked at him and he ushered you forward in the darkness, so you flicked off the bathroom light and scurried into bed.

He couldn't stop himself. He immediately rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you close, breathing in deep the scent of your shampoo and mint from his toothpaste.

You hummed happily and turned onto your side so his chest pressed against your back. The warmth of his arms surrounding you made you finally feel safe and at peace. But then your hand fell to rest on top of his and you froze, your eyes flying open in the pitch black room.

"Joel?"

"Hm?"

Your thumb gently brushed over the broken skin on his knuckles, then you sought out his other hand to do the same and your heart stopped.

"What did you do?" you whispered with a tremor to your voice.

He swallowed thickly and buried his face in the back of your neck before responding.

"What I had to."

You had a fitful night's sleep. If you weren't dreaming about a dark pair of eyes screaming horrible things at you in a bathroom, then you were dreaming about the aftermath of whatever Joel did to Brooks. Best case scenario, Glenn doesn't choose Joel to purchase the land. Worst case scenario, he gets arrested in the morning.

Both options fucking sucked.

If you were lucky, you got three hours of sleep. You laid in Joel's arms, listening to him softly snore behind you while the sky turned from pitch black to a deep, angry blue through the glass French doors that lead out to the pool.

Everything hurt, but the thing that hurt the most was your heart. You tried, you really did, but Brooks's words got to you. They festered under your skin, burrowed deep down and gnawed away at you until they found a permeant spot in your chest.

Nothing helped. A day ago you would have been thrilled to find yourself in Joel's bed, but as you laid there, all you could hear was gold digger, dumb bitch, look what you did!

Your mind had a vice grip on those words and it made you sick.

You wiggled in Joel's grasp, deciding there was no use in lying there if all you were going to do was work yourself up, but his grip tightened around you protectively and pulled you into his chest. You sighed and shifted around a bit more when his sleep filled voice startled you.

"Quit squirmin'."

You stilled and lifted your chin up. "I can't sleep, I was trying to get up without waking you."

"You ain't goin' anywhere," he grumbled, and for the first time since dinner, you felt the corner of your mouth tug into a careful smile. "Why can't you sleep? You hurtin'?"

You swallowed and dropped your gaze to his hands, which were pressed firm against your stomach. Now that the room was lighter, you could see the extent of the damage and it made you cringe.

"No," you whispered, only partially lying before closing your eyes so you wouldn't look at his knuckles any longer. "Can't stop thinking about -"

You cut yourself off but Joel knew what you were going to say. He sighed and pressed a kiss against your shoulder, surprising you despite the intimate position you had found yourself in all night.

He could feel how tense your muscles were so he gave your shoulder another kiss, but that time he let his lips linger a bit longer than was necessary. He smirked a little when he saw goosebumps flare across your skin, so he did it again.

"My poor girl," he whispered, his voice dropping to sound more seductive. "I'm so sorry you went through all this, baby. You don't deserve it," he added sweetly before brushing his lips over your shoulder and up the back of your neck. His exhale tickled you behind the ear and you felt yourself melt into his hold.

You boldly took one of his hands and dragged it up from where it rested against your stomach to lay flat between your breasts, letting him feel the way your heart raced, all for him.

His breath hitched in his throat, unable to resist brushing his palm experimentally over your hardening nipple, your thin top not providing much of a barrier. Instinctively, your back arched ever so slightly. Your ass pressed into his hips, causing him to groan, so you did it again.

"Christ," he murmured, tightening his grip, fingertips dimpling the soft flesh above your breast. "What're you doin', sweetheart?"

You only whimpered a little when you rolled your hips into him again to feel his erection pressing firmly against your ass. His responding growl sent a shiver down your spine and had your head tilting back so his mouth could suck on a spot behind your ear.

"Joel, please," you breathed. He made a little noise of disapproval in the back of his throat but that didn't stop him from biting gently at your neck.

"Don't think it's a good idea," he murmured into your hair, but the throb of his cock pressed against you said otherwise. "You've been through so much, you need your rest. You gotta heal, honey."

You whined impatiently and twisted around in his arms so you could finally see him. His hair was a mess but his eyes were bright and his skin had a pink tint, giving away his aroused state, as if you didn't already know.

"Please," you begged softly, brushing your lips carefully against his. Your hand slid up to rake through the matted hair on the back of his head while you nipped eagerly at his lower lip. "Please make it feel better, Joel."

His eyelids fluttered for a moment as he felt himself losing the battle. With a deep groan, he rolled over to pin you underneath him. He made a mistake when his instincts took over and he pressed his lips firmly against yours and you whimpered painfully. He immediately drew back and inspected your wounded lip for further injury, guilt flashing in his eyes.

"It's okay, I'm okay," you whispered, pulling him back down but tilting your chin up so he could kiss your neck, instead. You felt his muscles relax, his movements slowing and growing more tender, but kept his hips pressed against your core as a reminder of how hard you made him. "I'm okay," you whispered again, sliding your eyes closed with a soft moan while his mouth dragged up and down the column of your throat and his hand roamed freely underneath the hem of your shirt.

With hardly any effort at all, he lifted your tank above your head and tossed it onto the floor. His mouth immediately latched onto one breast while his hand played with the other. Between his tongue and fingers working steadily over your nipples, it took no time at all before you were a puddle underneath him.

"So beautiful," he murmured into your skin. His hand trailed down your side to play with the drawstring of your shorts, giving you another chance to ask him to stop, but instead you followed his lead and dipped your fingers past the waistband of his boxers. He inhaled sharply against your chest when you wrapped your fist around his cock for the first time and had to remind himself to be gentle when he heard you gasp at his size.

"Y'sure, baby?" he rasped, unable to stop his hips from thrusting lightly into your hand while you stroked him up and down.

"Mhmm," you mumbled, voice getting lost somewhere in your throat. You had never wanted someone as badly as you wanted him. It felt like he was everywhere. His scent, his hands, the pressure of his weight on top of you... you had never been more sure about anything in your life.

You hoped he didn't notice the nervous tremble in your hands when you pushed his boxers down his legs but after he tore off his shirt, he shakily fumbled with your own shorts and you had to hold back the smile that threatened to stretch across your broken lip. Was he nervous, too?

He sat back to drink you all in when you were finally bare before him, his eyes hungrily roaming over your soft curves, making you forget about every little imperfection you ever obsessed over. You only had a moment to admire his broad, tanned chest and thick biceps before he fell back onto his elbows to cage you in.

Your pulse thrummed fast under his gaze, the skin at your jugular twitching with each nervous beat of your heart.

"Wish I could kiss you," he admitted, eyes darting down to your lip.

"Me, too," you murmured before reaching down between your bodies. Your fingers wrapped around his thick length and you spread your legs wider to accommodate him. You guided him to your center, eyes never leaving his, before releasing his cock to wrap your arms around his ribs instead.

"Keep your eyes on me, okay?" he asked, voice a little broken at the request. You nodded and held your breath when you felt his tip breach your entrance. Of course, when his hips shifted to slide halfway inside, your eyes fluttered closed and your arms fell to grab at the sheets, the stretch taking your breath away.

"Baby, c'mon," he begged, nipping at your jaw. With a gasp, your eyes flew open to find his and nodded, wordlessly telling him to continue. One of his hands reached for your wrist and pinned it into the bedding next to your head. His fingers spread wide and found yours, lacing your hands together when he pushed in the rest of the way with a soft grunt.

"O-oh, fuck," you panted, struggling for air as you wiggled your hips, your cunt feeling like it was stretched to the limit. Joel watched you squirm underneath him and he couldn't help the way his chest swelled with pride.

"Yeah, you like that, baby? That feel good?" he muttered, cock throbbing inside you. You nodded, lips parted and eyes glassy, fingers flexing around his. Your fingertips brushed over his now scabbed over knuckles and a wave of your slick soaked his cock, turned on by the physical evidence of what he did to defend you.

And he noticed.

He noticed the way your eyelids drooped and your jaw went slack when you felt his knuckles again. Joel drew his hips back before slowly pushing his way back in, giving you his cock nice and slow.

"Could've killed him," he told you. Your eyes snapped open wide, looking up at him all soft and doe eyed. "Could've killed him for touching you, y'know that?"

You whimpered and wrapped your legs around his waist. Then your bruised, swollen lower lip trembled and his gaze darted down. Very carefully, he grazed his lips over your wound, both of you breathing in deeply as his hips pulled back and rocked into you once again. The stretch was intense, the feeling of him filling you up so perfectly overwhelming your senses.

You murmured his name and nuzzled your nose against his face, growing frustrated you couldn't kiss him. Once he set a slow, yet steady, rhythm, he pulled your hand up above your head, pushing it deep into the pillows, fingers tightening around yours as he plunged inside of you over and over. You could sense his frustration, too, by the way your jaws hung open, hovering over the other, breathing sharp gasps and pants into each other's mouths each time his hips snapped into you, knocking the air from your lungs.

"Wish I could taste you," you whispered against his open mouth. His brows pinched together, your confession rattling him for a second. "Want to know how your cock feels on my tongue. Wonder how much I can take," you continued, enjoying the way he was reacting way too much. Unconsciously, his hips picked up the pace, fucking into you a little harder and pushing you up into the pillows. His face contorted as if he were in pain and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Can't say shit like that," he groaned, letting his forehead fall to rest on your shoulder. "Gonna make me come. You feel too good, fuck," he whimpered. "Shoulda been fuckin' you since we got here."

You smirked, as much as your lips would allow, anyway, before replying.

"Better make up for lost time, then."

His teeth sunk into the skin stretching across your collarbone and you moaned, slipping your fingers through his curls with your free hand. You held him there against your neck and shoulder, sighing at the trail of licks and kisses he left on your skin while his cock continued to mold a path inside you, your cunt squeezing around him with every sharp thrust.

"Shit, that's my girl," he rasped, tongue flicking out lazily to lick at your sweaty skin. "Takin' everythin' I give you. This pretty pussy just needed my cock, hm? Needed me to make it all better?"

My girl.

Stars exploded behind your eyes when you squeezed them shut, his filth hitting you like a goddamn freight train.

"Yes!" you cried out, tipping your head back into the pillow and tightening your hold on his hand. "Yes, Joel, fuck - feels so good. S-so deep. It's so much," you whined while he sucked another mark into the soft flesh above your left breast.

He soothed you with a reassuring hum before unlocking one of your legs from his waist and hooking it over his shoulder. You gasped, the sharp angle making it feel far more intense than before, dragging you closer and closer to your climax.

"Oh, my god!" you cried out when the tip of his cock nudged against a spot inside you that had your legs shaking and your vision blurring. Joel reared back, your hand falling limply from his hair, so he could fuck you harder. He huffed and panted for air, staring down at you with his jaw clenched tight and sweat trailing down the sides of his face.

The noises you were making should have embarrassed you but you didn't care, especially since Joel appeared to enjoy them so much. You gazed up at him, gasping for air every time his hips slammed into yours. You probably looked like a mess but he didn't seem to mind at all.

"Good?" was all he managed to grunt, entirely fixated on making you come.

"Yes," you whined, "please don't stop. Christ, Joel, I -"

You cut yourself off with a low moan, the relentless pace he set bringing you to the brink of an orgasm so intense, tears were already filling your eyes. He felt your muscles tensing when your breath started to come in jagged little gasps and he quickly cupped your face to tilt it up towards him, eager to watch you fall apart again, but this time promised to be much more satisfying.

With a deep growl, he ground his hips into you, rubbing the coarse hairs that curled at the base of his cock against your clit, soaking up your arousal with each pass.

Your mouth fell open and your face crumpled when you came, a litany of curses spilling from your lips while Joel continued to drag against your clit, drawing out your orgasm as long as possible while he actively fought back his own.

"Fuck, that's pretty," he grunted, still holding your face in his massive hand while the last waves washed over you. You nuzzled blindly into his palm, his other hand still holding yours so tightly, his knuckles began to slowly trickle fresh blood. "So goddamn pretty f'me, baby," he added, voice growing strained. His gaze dropped to where you were connected, watching how your slick had spread all over his cock and stomach, then flicked his eyes back up to you.

"I'm gonna come," he whimpered, cheeks puffing, sweat soaked hair sticking to his forehead, and brown eyes fixed on the now relaxed expression on your face. "Are you - can I -"

"Yes," you said quickly, "yes, Joel. God, yes, please come inside me, please," you pleaded. His eyes rolled to the back of his head when he came, your begging being the last push he needed to fall over the edge with a loud groan.

You watched in a trance, memorizing the look of ecstasy on his face, the little ungh followed by a low hiss each time he thrusted forward, shooting his spend deep inside your used cunt until his arms shook and he finally let go of your hand, leg falling from his shoulder.

"Fuck," he gasped, each of you fighting for air while you waited for your hearts to stop racing. His hands gently braced your hips before he slipped out of your wet clutch, his cock still half hard and covered with your combined release. You made a little noise at the loss, at the sudden feeling of emptiness, but he quickly fell to your side and pulled your back against his chest, soothing you with soft strokes against your hip as you worked through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

"Think you can go to sleep now?" he asked, his voice hoarse and muffled from his face burrowing into your back.

"Yeah," you sighed, wiggling in his hold until you were comfortable. His seed was still dripping out of you but the last thing you wanted to do was clean it up. You wanted to feel him there for as long as possible, even though you knew the ache in your hips would serve as a constant reminder for the next day or two, at least.

"Good," he grumbled as if he were annoyed, but you could feel his lips curving into a smile against your skin.

The last thing you remembered before falling asleep were the little bright red dots that stained his knuckles on the hand that was connected to the arm wedged underneath you, holding you safe and sound.

"French fries for breakfast?" you asked him, shooting Joel a look of surprise. He shrugged and popped another one in his mouth before patting the bed next to him.

"They're my weakness."

You giggled and practically jumped back into bed, your hair dripping from your shower and the soft, white robe caressing your still highly sensitive skin.

"Do you share?" you asked him with a suggestive tone in your voice. He quirked an eyebrow at you before feeding you a fry.

"Food? Yes."

You chewed and hummed as you leaned into his shoulder, eyes drifting to the television. You furrowed your brow as you tried to figure out the movie, but his hand around your shoulder distracted you when he tugged on the soft cotton.

"Women? No," he added before dipping his other hand past the collar, cupping your breast still concealed by the robe. You inhaled sharply, your spine automatically twisting to cater to him, to give him easier access to your body like it was its only function. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck as he pushed you down into the mattress, movie long forgotten. When he began to suck on your neck, your lips still off limits, you groaned and gave his shoulder a playful shove.

"Look at how many marks you already left on me," you pouted, tugging open your robe with one hand so he could see.

He pulled back so he could admire his handiwork before giving you a sly grin.

"Good," he said before resuming his work on your throat. And if you didn't fucking love it so much, you might have protested a bit more but instead, you craned your neck to give him better access. You sighed and felt your body relax under him, cunt already softening and preparing to take him again when your gaze fell on the clock beside his bed.

"Oh, shit! Joel! It's almost ten!" you exclaimed, tapping on his shoulder to snap him out of his lust filled haze.

"So?"

"So?" you repeated incredulously. "What about work?"

"What 'bout it?" he mumbled, hips digging into the apex of your thighs.

"Don't you have a company to run?"

Joel scoffed against your neck and finally pulled away. He pressed his weight into his forearms, which bracketed your head, and kissed the tip of your nose.

"I'm the boss. Think I can do what I want."

He was skipping work for you? Your heart practically leapt out of your chest and into the palm of his hand. You had to fight back the huge smile that pulled at your face for fear of reopening the cut on your lip, but the way your face went hot and your eyes shyly dropped from his was enough to show how happy you were.

He grinned and leaned back down to graze his teeth along your jaw. As far as either of you were concerned, nothing could touch you in the safety of his room. In your minds, the repercussions of the day before were a problem for another time.

"Well, what do you want to do, then?" you teased, gasping when you felt his already hard cock nudge against the inside of your thigh.

"You," he answered gruffly, then as fast as lightening, his hand flicked open your robe to expose yourself to him.

"Christ, you're perfect," he groaned before descending on your nipple, his teeth pinching at the sensitive bud ever so slightly while you whimpered and writhed under him.

His phone vibrated in the sheets next to you, but he ignored it.

"Joel," you breathed, blinking fast to clear your hazy vision. "Joel, your phone."

He groaned and begrudgingly released your breast but remained on top of you as he fished around for his phone.

"Gotta tell Jeff to fuck off, then -"

He paused as he stared at the screen, the blood draining from his face.

Fear shot through you and you scrambled to sit up.

"What is it?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he reread whatever popped up on his screen before dragging his eyes away to look at you.

"It's Glenn. He's in the lobby."

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[cashmoneyyysstuff]

to the moon and back ♡

in which : shoto finds out that space smells like seared steak and that footsteps on the moon last forever.

this is based on an oc so reader knows a lot of space facts lololol, fem reader, space nerd reader, shoto likes listening, shoto is hopelessly in love with reader n vice versa, mushy feelings yucky, kissing, shotos a lil awkward but he tries, shoto n reader r third years might be a lil ooc, lemme know if u missed sum else ! <3 (p.s. might change the image)

"did you know that footsteps on the moon last forever ?"

shoto todoroki is laying outside on the grass stargazing with you after curfew. usually he wouldn’t imagine doing this in his free time, but you’d flashed him your cutest, almost mischievous ‘let’s go do something bad’ grin, and he couldn’t even think about refusing.

so now he’s laying here on the grass next to you.

“oh wow, really ?”

you hum in response “ because there’s no wind or water erosion on the moon,” you explain “ so if you were to walk on it, the footprints would probably be there for millions of years.”

he nods. he likes when you go off on tangents about little space facts you know because they could be quite interesting, but also because he gets to hear you speak and he likes that. he could listen to you talking about paint drying for hours on end, but he thinks it’s even more enjoyable when you talk about something you’re passionate about.

he wishes he could sound more interested, because he really is. he wishes his voice could project like kirishima’s or bakugou’s. that he could sound as excited and cheerful as midoriya sometimes. but you don’t seem to mind. shoto doesn’t want you to feel like you’re talking to a wall so he continues.

“i didn’t know that.” yikes. not his best line, but he’s trying.

“now you do.” you respond easily. you don’t sound annoyed or offended by his lack of response, content to do most of the talking between you two.

shoto finds he can’t keep conversations flowing very well, not like you do. and when he does try to even he knows how awkward it can come across. he doesn’t force himself with you because it’s polite or the right thing to do, shoto wants to hear more facts, he likes them. and he likes you.

so it’s a little broken and choppy, talking with him alone like this, but you don’t mind and you keep talking. and shoto delights in listening to you.

“and apparently, space smells like seared steak.”

that has him raising a brow, he turns his head to you and you look back. a smile creeps onto your face and shoto could look at you like this for hours. it’s like you’re glowing, the stars could try as hard as they could, but they could never compare to you and the bright shine in your eyes.

“really ?”

“yeah.”

“how ?”

you beam, shoto knowing you’re about to go on one of your nerdy tangents, as you call them, feels himself smile back softly.

“i don’t really know,” you start “ but astronauts have reported that, apparently, space has a very distinct smell.”

“and that smell is the smell of seared steak ?” shoto asks skeptically.

“yup ! or hot metal, but i like the steak better.” you giggle. shoto smiles at you. he hopes you keep talking the whole night, even if, realistically, you’d have to leave soon if you wanted to be spared of mr aizawa’s lecture. but he’s not worried about getting in trouble right now. he’s not worried about much when he’s with you.

shoto has trouble keeping conversations flowing, but when he’s invested things come out more naturally for him. he couldn’t be more grateful when a thought pops into his mind “you sure know a lot about space.”

“s’cus i wanted to be an astronaut when i was a kid.” his eyes widen. “really ?”

“yeah, somewhere along the line i remember wanting to go to space."

“i thought you wanted to be a hero since you were a kid” he recalls you telling him that in passing one time. he never imagined being one for sentimental conversations but he seems to have a lot of thoughts when he’s with you. he doesn’t know why he does, but you manage to squeeze them out of him regardless.

“what’s wrong with having a side gig ?” you chuckle. shoto huffs out a light laugh at your joke, his eyes softening.

“what about you,” you turn onto your side to fully look at him. your eyes shine bright, they’re soft gazing at him, and shoto can’t help but want to kiss you. he does the same and lays on his side. “did you wanna be something other than a hero, shoto ?”

he likes it when you say his name, he likes hearing you. things always get a bit more personal when you talk to him like that, and he can’t help getting sucked into you like you’re a black hole (that he found out, thanks to you, aren’t really black).

he thinks about your question, staring off “i think i wanted to be a gardener..” he admits shyly, looking at you again. your face brightens like no star ever could and shoto really wants to kiss you.

“yeah ?”

“yeah, somewhere along the line.” he sighs, mimicking your words

“that’s so cute. very like you.” you chirp, he feels embarrassment creep up on him, cheeks darkening the slightest bit.

“is it ?” he mumbles. you laugh and it makes him feel a bit better.

"yeah, in a way." you beam. it makes millions of little stars spark and crackle in his stomach. like the one's in the sky and the one's in your eyes and todoroki really wants to kiss you.

" can i kiss you ?" he asks bluntly, he doesn't see the point in beating around the bush but his heart beats hard against his ribcage either way. you haven't been dating for that long, becoming official only now in your third year, but you've been friends for years now. and you know he's not one to be shy about what he wants. he knows you do when you smile harder at him with a flustered giggle, and he knows he loves you.

"sure you can." you whisper shyly. he doesn't waste any more time after that, and leans in, propping himself up on his shoulder. he likes to just look at you, placing his hand against your cheek and brushing at your skin with his index finger. his eyes peer into yours softly, while your gaze darts away from him in embarrassment.

"shoto.." you mumble. he hums.

"you're staring.." you snicker breathlessly. he hums again, not denying your words.

"i can't help it. you're mesmerizing, i can't look away even if i wanted to." you know he's not being romantic on purpose to possibly try to woo you, you've known him long enough to know that he truly means what he's saying. and that has your whole body burning like the sun.

"i didn't see myself as mesmerizing." you can just barely hear your voice above the wind. but he's so close to you he can, and you can too when he speaks "but you are."

you shake your head "think that's you, handsome." you reach a hand up to rub at his cheek, your thumb running over the bottom of his scar and his eyes close in content. handsome, he likes it when you call him that. he likes it when you call him anything as long as you do it like that. despite losing himself in the feeling of you, he manages to shake his head.

"you are." he insists and you can't argue with him further when he presses his lips to yours. urgently yet so, so softly.

it makes you dizzy, he makes you dizzy. you have to grip at the back of his shirt to support yourself. he follows you, allowing you all of him to make sure you’re comfortable as he leans you back to lay on your back to kiss you longer, deeper. he sighs against your mouth. he reaches for your hands and you give them to him. he's soft, so soft with you and on you, but his grip on your hands is firm and you realize you're not the only one getting dizzy.

"i love you." he breathes against your lips, he dives back in to place a sweet peck against them "so much." your grip on his shoulder tightens because he makes you so dizzy. he makes you feel like you're floating around in space "i love you too." you sigh shakily.

he kisses you again, it's slow and sweet and it's just like him. he pulls away with a small smile and you know you love shoto todoroki so much. it makes your heart pound and you don't know what to say. but he seems to.

"do you still want to go to space ?" he asks, chest heaving slightly.

you're shocked "..what ?"

"would you still want to go ?" he asks. you try to search around on his face to see if he was kidding, but you don't see a single sign of mischief or amusement on his features.

"i don't know if i'd have the time." you joke, a small smile breaks on his face.

"but if you did." he urges, you hum at the hypothetical, playing around with his hair while he sighs happily.

"well, if i did.." you think "then yeah i probably would. maybe leave my footprint on the moon while i'm at it." you snort.

"then i'll take you." shoto smiles. and after a beat passes you can't help but laugh incredulously.

"you're—" you interrupt yourself with a watery laugh "you're gonna take me to space ?" you ask. he grins, and you don't see it much so it makes your heart stutter and your laughter gets caught in your throat.

"mhm." he answers, eyes brighter than the stars above you "i'll take you, and then you can leave your footprint on the moon."

shoto knows he can't actually take you. realistically, it'd be impossible. but he finds he doesn't care much about realistically's when he's with you.

you know it's probably impossible for him to actually take you to space, but you'll believe in theories and you'll believe in him when he looks at you like you'd hung up the moon and the stars in the sky.

"we'll leave our footprints on the moon." you correct. your boyfriend laughs softly to himself and he nods.

"alright."

"and then we'll go back in a million years to see if they're still there, deal ?"

"alright." he laughs again at your silly arrangement, and he leans down when you pull him in closer to you "deal." and you get a last giggle in before he presses his lips to yours again.

shoto has no doubt that even in a million years, the mark you've left on his heart will never dissapear.

bleeehh i never know how to end fics !! :P

[pinkanonwrites]

Washrack Academy

Jetstorm and Jetfire have a lot of questions about humans. But you? You just want to take your shower in peace.

TFA Jetfire, TFA Jetstorm, and Reader, no ships but it's implied Jetfire has a little crush on the reader, human reader, non-sexual nudity, is it still voyeurism if it's mostly fueled by curiosity? probably, AFAB Reader with GN Pronouns, alien anatomy discussions

"You know, humans are being much more hygienic than Sentinel says they are being."

You rolled your eyes, hefting your small duffel bag further up your shoulder. "Yeah, well Sentinel doesn't know as much about humans as he thinks he does. Most people I know shower every other day at the very least. We aren't big fans of being dirty."

"But now you are being extra dirty!" Jetstorm loomed over you with a cheeky grin, running a huge metal digit over the top of your head. A slick of motor oil came with it, sending another disgusted shiver down your spine at the gooey sensation. "Bumblebee maybe needs to working on power steering! And not splashing human friends with drinks of celebration."

Being a human liaison representing the city of Detroit on Cybertron was already a job way outside of the normal parameters of your career, and the stress was leaving you pretty wired. But Bumblebee accidentally tipping an oversized can of motor oil off a table and directly onto your head while showing off just had to be the final nail in the coffin. In front of a whole bunch of big important Autobots and everything.

Now you were being flanked on either side by Sentinel Prime's personal squadron (a gig they eagerly volunteered for and a choice both you and Sentinel had little say in) as they showed you to whatever the Cybertronian equivalent of an army base locker room was so you could get cleaned up. 

"And motor oil not to be damaging your fluffy organic fibers?" Great, now Jetfire was poking at your greasy hair too. At least he had half a processor to keep his igniters off while he did.

"It's called hair. And it'll only damage it if I leave it in too long. Plus, it's really bad for my skin."

"Good for it not to be doing badness to hair! Yikes for it to be doing badness to skin. So sensitive, little organics. Must be very hard!"

"You're telling me, bud."

"Here! Coming this way." Jetstorm gestured for you to follow him through a tiled doorway. The room beyond looked remarkably similar to the locker room you'd had in high school, though blown up to a cartoonish scale. "We have tiny washrack for mini-bot sizes. Maybe too big for you still, but is better than nothing!"

He wasn't exaggerating, the handles for the mini-bot sized faucets were still a good two or three feet out of your reach. 

"Where do you even put your towels? Your soap?" You glanced around but failed to find any bench or wall divot suitably placed for setting your things down. "Is there anywhere I can set my bag?"

"Just be putting bag into subspace! Easy for peasy!" A small compartment popped open on Jetstorm's chest, and from it he procured… a metal scouring pad? A giant one, about the size of a large restaurant platter. If the situation weren't so incredibly absurd already, you might've gotten a chuckle out of the idea of a robot using a Brillo pad as a loofah.

"Yeah, we don't… humans don't have that." You said instead. Because this situation was, in fact, incredibly absurd.

Jetfire and Jetstorm looked at each other, mirrored expressions of visible confusion. Then, they both shrugged.

"Being a human…"

"...Is very difficult!"

"Look, just- can one of you hold it for me? Please?"

"For certain! I will be best at human wash rack supplies holder job! Be counting on me." You dropped your duffel bag into Jetfire's cupped hands and wrenched it open. Grabbing your various bottles of hair product and a large towel from within, you lined them up on the floor along the wall and hopefully just beyond the reach of the shower's spray. But as you moved for the bottom of your shirt to pull it off, you felt the prickle of two pairs of optics staring just a little bit too hard at your body.

"Are you two just gonna… watch me? You can wait outside, you know."

"We are to be protecting you from curious bots! And make sure you do not do the snooping or the wandering off." Jetstorm insisted.

"Are you gonna do that while staring me down? A little privacy, please." Was it ironic to ask for privacy in a locker room? Probably. But most people had the decency not to stare while someone was getting undressed. 

Most people. Maybe that sentiment didn't extend to twelve foot tall transforming robot soldiers.

"Staring? Who is doing the staring? Certainly not us goodness bots!" 

"No, no! We would never be the staring! Especially not at soft and squishy little human frame!"

Both brothers rushed to cup a servo over their optics, continuously asserting their supposed innocence all the while. You sighed, peeling your way out of your slick and permanently stained clothes and letting them fall to the ground in an oily heap.

"Well I don't know how it is on Cybertron, but on Earth staring at people in the locker room is what we call 'bad manners.' You two ever heard of those?"

"We will being so very manners-filled! No staring from us at you, big promise." Jetfire insisted, carefully depositing your bag into his subspace as he brought his other servo up so they were both covering his faceplate.

"Though do not be trying to do the sneaking off while we are look-away! That would be also called 'bad manners.'" Added Jetstorm with a cheeky thumbs-up.

"I'm not going to go sneaking around your base naked, so you don't need to worry about that. Now could one of you get the water for me, please?"

As Jetstorm felt along the wall and cranked the water to partial blast, you swear you heard him ask his brother 'But what is "naked" meaning?' The hiss of the showerhead quickly covered it, though, and you decided you'd rather focus on getting clean before you struggled to explain the foreign concept to the pair of ridiculous twins. The water ran just hot enough to make your skin tingle as you lathered your hair with shampoo, vigorously scrubbing the motor oil free from your scalp. It'd probably take more than a few rinses to get everything out, you'd have to ask Professor Sumdac to bridge you some more toiletries way sooner than you'd originally planned. Maybe Sari could pick some up for you on her next trip home?

But as you lathered your hair up for the fourth (maybe fifth?) time, you couldn't help but notice a quiet, metallic buzzing that could just barely be heard over the hiss of water. It paused and fizzed in a rhythmic pattern, not all too dissimilar from Morse Code. It would stop for a moment, before picking up again, slightly lower pitched this time. It sounded almost like… a conversation.

"If you've got something to say, you can say it out loud." You called them out. Jetfire startled at the sound of your voice, his own sounding slightly strained. 

"What? But we are such quiet being!"

"You're doing that… that 'EM field' thing. Where you talk to each other with your brains? I've heard Bee and Bulkhead do it before. So, c'mon. What do you want to know?"

He clammed up, absentmindedly scuffing one of his pedes against the tiled floor. Jetstorm, meanwhile, had a sly grin growing across his faceplate. He raised his free servo up in the air like a student waiting to be called on.

"Actually, Jetfire is having a question!"

"I-I am not! Do not listen, brother is merely making funny joke!"

"No, no! Do not listen to him! Jetfire is very, very curious about human not having sp-MRMPH!"

A cacophony of metal on metal echoed through the wash racks as Jetfire tackled his brother to the wet tile, wrestling his servos over the other's intake to keep him quiet. Jetstorm grabbed for his brother's goggles and pulled him into a shaky headlock, even as Jetfire repeatedly kicked him in the knees with the flat of his pede. You scrambled to grab your towel, clutching it to your front as the two bots collapsed to the ground in an ear-splitting crash.

"Hey, HEY! Quit it! What the hell are you two doing?!"

Both of their heads snapped up at your tone, Jetstorm still looking mischievous while his brother had the decency to look a bit sheepish. He quickly pried Jetfire's servo off of his intake.

"Jetfire is wanting to know why humans do not have spike! You know, since he was doing the peeking."

"Y-You were also doing peeking! I know you were curious too!" Jetfire shot back.

"Maybe curious, yes, but you are obsessed! 'Oh, little humans are so soft and so squishy being! Why so warm? I want to be holding one!'"

"I am not sounding like that! You are making exaggeration!"

Jetfire seemed on the verge of tackling his brother again, so you quickly stepped in. "Okay, geez, look. I will answer one, ONE! Question each. And only if you stop hitting each other. That's it. I don't have the energy for this today."

The two bots awkwardly clambered back to their feet, Jetstorm looking down at you with a playful grin while Jetfire seemed to be looking anywhere but your unclothed frame.

"Brotherrrrr?" Jetstorm teased. "Would you like to be going first?" 

Jetfire dignified his brother's teasing with a sharp elbow to the side, but spoke anyway. "S-Sorry to be peeking when you said not, but, um, do humans not have- uh, not have spike? Or is it hidden? Maybe not pressurized? If embarrassing you don't have to say. No biggee."

You furrowed your brow. 'Spike.' You don't think you'd heard any of the Autobots use that term before, at least not around you. Maybe it was a built-in weapon? Or some sort of specialized armor plating?

"I, uh, I don't know what a spike is. Sorry. Can you be… more specific?"

Jetfire let out a high-pitched sound, similar to heat escaping a tea kettle, while his brother only seemed to beam even brighter at his humiliated suffering.

"Ah, you know! Spike!" Jetstorm grinned. "Right here, above valve? Comes out like 'fssshh'? No modesty panel on you, so maybe just hidden away!" He made a bunch of vague motions in front of his crotch, and with a looming horror you started to catch on as he mimed the motion of something growing and rising up in front of his crotch plate. His modesty panel.

Holy shit they had robot dicks.

"N-No? No, I don't have a- a spike." You were doing your absolute best to stay focused on the conversation at hand, not think about… about the robot penis that apparently all Cybertronians had? "Humans, uh, most humans just have one or the other. The, um, the spike or the… the…"

"Valve?" Jetstorm happily supplied.

"Sure? I guess?!"

"Something new to be learned every day! Right, brother?" Jetstorm thumped his brother on the back with an open servo, while Jetfire was openly refusing to make eye contact with you. The temperature in the room seemed to peak by a few degrees, and based on the heat waves rolling off of Jetfire's body you had an inkling suspicion it was his doing, however unintentional it may be. "Anyways, my turn, yes? You said word 'naked'. What is 'naked' meaning?"

"Uh, y-yeah. Um, yeah. Sure." God, you did not have the mental fortitude to deal with these revelations today. "Naked just means you're not… covered up? Wearing clothes. There are some parts on a human that have to be covered in public, otherwise it's uh… inappropriate." Your only solace was that now you had some sort of comparison to make between Cybertronians and humans. "Like, you guys wouldn't walk around with your… your spike out? Same for humans."

"Ohhh…" They even had stunned realizations in unison. You'd almost consider it cute, if you weren't already so burnt-out.

"Yep, well, class is over. Can I please get dressed now? Preferably without being watched?"

"A-Ah! Yes, of course! So sorry! Here is things." Jetfire quickly fumbled your duffel out of his subspace, only for it to slip through his digits and hit the floor with a thud. Wincing, he turned to shove his brother from the room, calling over his shoulder to you as they went. "We will be watching door so no bots do peeking! Then there is no way we be seeing you naked, not even little bit! Seeing you in moment- but not naked! Just normal seeing!"

"O-Okay? I'll be out in… a bit." But they were already gone. Weird. Weird couple of bots. But hey, at least now you could dry your hair in peace.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  

"Very bumpy landing, brother." Jetstorm couldn't fight his mirthful grin as he stared down at his spark-twin, who was currently sitting with his back to the wall outside the wash racks, knee-joints pulled up tight to his chassis and faceplate hidden from view. "I may not be seeing exact same appeal you do, but humans are verrrrrry entertaining being. That human especially so!"

"I wish to be offline." Jetfire lamented. "So awkward, very very uncool. They will never be speaking to me again."

"Do not be so downer, brother! They answer questions very nice, and do not even yell when you peeking at their array!"

Jetfire let out another pathetic wail. "Do not be reminding me! Me, caught peeking? Would rather scrub every rivet on Omega Supreme than be that embarrassing again." He slammed his helm against the tops of his knee-joints a few times for good measure, a loud, echoing clanking reverberating down the hall. "Why are little humans being so soft? A-And when covering self, why are little peeks of soft bits around towel so- so erotic?"

Jetstorm cackled, patting his brother atop the helm with his servo. "And to think, we thought being human is hard. Sounds like liking human is much, much harder!"

[noosayog]

[how a loser dates] ft. kuroo

warnings/content: fem! reader x kuroo, office setting, timeskip characters obvi, fluff and kuroo being a loser

wc: 1.2k

"Morning, princess," your coworker, Kuroo, calls out teasingly from his desk in reference to the dress you're wearing today that replaces your usual slacks. 

"Morning, rooster head."

He chuckles a bit and returns his attention to his computer. 

Throughout the morning, Kuroo looks up every now and then, just staring at you but saying nothing. It's only later in the afternoon when you're settled down from the rush of the morning that Kuroo asks. "What's the occasion?"

"What?" you ask distractedly.

"The occasion," he repeats. His voice comes from right over your head and you look up to see his desk empty. Instead, he's standing behind you, leaning an elbow against the wall of your cubicle.

"What?" you parrot.

His eyes drift deliberately down your silhouette, then back up to meet your gaze, punctuating his silent question with a raise of his brow.

"Oh," you laugh. "The dress? I have a date tonight."

Kuroo's other brow raises. "A date?"

"Yeah."

“With who?” 

You swivel your chair to face him with your whole body. “You wouldn’t know them. They’re not from work.” 

He hums in acknowledgment then walks away with a pensive expression. 

–

It’s almost the end of the work day when you hear your boss’s reprimanding voice. You look up from your computer to see your boss angrily saying something to Kuroo about losing the data for an important client call tomorrow. 

After your boss stomps away, you hear Kuroo sigh. His eyes meet yours. 

“You okay?” you ask. “What happened?” 

“I was supposed to store the presentation for tomorrow’s client call but for some reason, I can’t find it anywhere on my drive.” 

“Did you check your trash?” 

“Empty.” 

“Yikes.” 

“Yeah.” 

You stare back at him, lips pursed.

“Well…” he says awkwardly. “I better get to it if I’m going to redo the presentation by tomorrow.” 

You swallow guiltily, throat itching to offer help. No, you can't. You have plans tonight. 

“Okay, good luck,” you say instead. 

He deflates. “Thanks.” 

Concentration broken, you return to your work. You shift uncomfortably when you hear him sigh. 

Five minutes later, another deep exhale. 

You can’t stop yourself when you finally ask, “do you want me to help?” 

Kuroo perks up, head poking out from the walls of the cubicle. “I mean I would love help, but you have plans and all tonight…” he trails off. 

“The reservation isn’t until 7, so I’ll help until then.” 

“Great, thanks!” he smiles. 

–

Kuroo is an efficient worker. It’s almost as if he had the entire thing memorized as he effortlessly lists off the slides that need to be redone, easily navigating to the resources that have the perfect data for each topic. 

“It’s like you don’t even need my help for this,” you joke. 

“No!” he interrupts loudly. 

You give him a weird look.

“Sorry” he mutters. “Can you summarize the data from these sites?” 

He passes you a sticky note with 2 websites on them. When you navigate to them, they’re long, tedious pages. You settle into your chair and get focused. If you’re going to leave here by 6:30, you better get working. 

When you finally pass the data to Kuroo, the two of you begin to compile the data you’ve respectively gathered into the proper slide deck format. When 6:30 rolls around, the to-do’s left still make up a massive mountain. 

“Um,” you say. 

Kuroo takes an exaggerated look at the watch on his wrist. “Oh, your date.” 

“Yeah.” 

He looks at the progress on the presentation just stares at the screen.

“Kuroo?” 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, don’t worry about me. You’ve already helped so much. Go ahead and have fun on your date.” 

“Okay…” you say hesitantly, packing up your bag. Before you leave, you look back to see Kuroo, alone in the office, leaning heavily against the back of his chair with his arms draped over his eyes. You hear him sigh again before guiltily leaving him behind. 

You make it all the way to the lobby before you can’t stand it anymore. You text your date that you won’t be able to make it rush back up to the office. 

Kuroo looks surprised when you drop your things off at your desk and return to his side. 

“What happened? Don’t you need to leave?” 

“I can’t just leave you here by yourself with all this, you’ll never finish.” 

“Are you sure…” he trails off. 

“Shut up and get working.” 

“Yes, ma’’am,” he salutes. 

– 

Late in the night, even after security has left the building, Kuroo gets up. 

“We need a break,” he says. “Want some coffee?” 

“Sure,” you say, equally exhausted. 

He gets up to head to the break room as you continue to fiddle around with the slide deck. As you look through his computer, your eyes slide to the little trash can on the screen and see that it’s not empty. Curiously, you click into it and the first thing you see is the very client presentation that the two of you have been slaving away at to reproduce. 

“Oh my god, Kuroo!” you say excitedly. You repeat his name, but he must not hear you, because there’s no response. 

Then, you notice the time of deletion. 3:52PM. You remember Kuroo getting chewed around 4PM. If he deleted it, there’s no way he would forget that quickly. And he said he had checked his trash. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Kuroo comes back, holding two steaming cups of coffee and tie thrown over a shoulder. “I heard you calling.” 

“Kuroo,” you say, pointing at the screen. 

When Kuroo sees what you’re pointing at, his smile freezes in place. 

“What’s this?” 

You press when he doesn’t respond. “Why did you purposely get yourself into trouble?” 

He stares at the screen, avoiding your eyes. 

“Kuroo!” 

“Okay!” he breathes. He mumbles something unintelligible. 

“... go on your date,” you hear. 

“What? Speak up,” you say irritatedly. 

“I didn’t want you to go on your date. Okay? I know it’s immature of me to resort to such tactics, but I’ve been dropping hints for awhile and I dunno, I guess I just got impatient.” 

You sigh.

“Well, I’m just glad that you aren’t going to be yelled at because there’s no way we were going to finish by tomorrow.” 

“You’re not mad?” 

“I am. Why couldn’t you have just asked me out on a date like a normal person?” 

“I’ve asked you to go on coffee runs with me?” 

You pinch at the bridge of your nose. “Being our boss’s errand boy does not count as a date, Kuroo.” 

He just chuckles, abashed. His cheeks are turning pink and you sigh, feeling almost affectionate at how your snarky, quick-witted coworker is reduced to the romantic maturity of a high-schooler in front of you. 

“Okay, well, since I didn’t get to eat tonight, you owe me dinner,” you say, throwing him a bone. 

He blinks. “Like a date?” he asks dumbly. 

You sigh exasperatedly for what feels like the millionth time that night. “Yes, Kuroo. A date.” you emphasize heavily on date, worried that he still won’t get the picture. 

“It’s late, so there’s probably only ramen shops around if that’s okay? But I promise to take you out to a nicer diner. Like a real date.” he promises solemnly. 

“You’re already assuming I’m going to want to go on a second date with you?” 

His signature grin returns in full force. “Oh, princess. You’re gonna want that second date. Trust me.” 

“Only ‘cuz I want to see how you tame your hair for a real date.” 

“Told ‘ya you’d want a second date.”

[just-jordie-things]

sorry if your not allowed to like combine them but 26+54 on the kids prompt w toge inumaki??? if we can’t combine them just 26🙃🙃

26: Jealous Kiss 54: Against a Locker Kiss ___

you knew how toge felt about kamo noritoshi. that's probably what troubled him the most now, seeing the pair of you talking liek you were old friends.

because in fact, just last night before the kyoto students had arrived, you and toge both dreaded having to deal with that elitist prick. you even gossiped and giggled about how he'd likely never find a wife- which had turned into a series of kisses and whispers about how much you loved one another.

(well, it was more of you whispering sweet nothings while he praised you with an excited, "salmon, salmon!")

if anyone were looking, they'd see the bitter scowl on toge's face. his brows were furrowed, eyes locked on the odd looking pair that was you and noritoshi, and his entire body was rigid, like he'd been holding his breath since he'd caught sight of you. (he kind of had been)

i mean, what you could you even be talking about? what was so interesting that you would throw your head back and laugh? and why was he staring at you so intently? yes, you were the most beautiful thing that toge had ever seen, but no he did not want the likes of kamo noritoshi to be basking in your glow!

it's maki who notices toge's distance and bitter demeanor first. he'd been involved in a conversation of strategy with her, panda, and the first years, but from her peripheral vision she'd seen that he had completely turned away. she follows his gaze to see what could be bothering him so much, and she has to admit, seeing you talking with noritoshi in the hallway kind of sets her off, too.

"yikes," maki sucks in a sharp breath as she mutters. "that's weird"

"ikura" toge curses from beside her.

she scoffs, shaking her head at him before looking back out at you. she'd never thought there'd be a chance you gave noritoshi the time of day, much less your one on one, undivided attention. yet there you were, looking rather engaged in conversation, right in plain sight of your boyfriend.

your boyfriend, who maki now realizes, is practically vibrating with jealousy. if he didn't have his collar up, she thinks he could be foaming at the mouth. she winces, taking a modest step back.

megumi is cut off mid sentence when the cursed speech user finally spins around on his heel and stomps his way out of the classroom, the door sliding shut behind him with a rattle. the room remains silent at the out-of-character display of rage, until maki gestures her head to the window.

everyone's scrambling suddenly to watch with wide eyes and gasps when they see where you'd been all this time. no one says anything when toge comes around the corner and into your view. your conversation with noritoshi seems to end as soon as he's made himself present.

"ten bucks he beats him up" nobara mutters.

"you're on" panda reaches his paw out to shake on the bet.

sure enough, once toge is close enough, he's shoving noritoshi by the shoulder, not hard enough that it looks like he's going to take a proper swing, but the blood manipulation user stumbles on his footing and knocks into the wall of lockers behind him.

panda and nobara begin to argue on whether or not that constitutes being beat up, and megumi makes an effort to return the group's focus to their strategy.

they miss the way toge's hand snatches your wrist and he's dragging you down the hall, turning a corner to be out of sight from your peers- whom he'd known had been watching the whole altercation.

"what was that about?" you ask him, bewildered, as your feet awkwardly shuffle to keep up with his pace.

with his free hand, toge unzips his collar so you can see just how displeased he is. your eyes go wide in shock before your brows are pinching together in worry.

"toge, what's wrong?" you pull your hand out of his hold as though to reach out to him, but he's grabbing it again, and this time pining it to the locker behind you so you can't pull away again.

it's then that you realize he's got you caged in, and he almost looks... pissed. but you can't think of what you could've done to upset him this much. you hadn't even been with him, you'd been talking with-

...oh.

you can't help the amused smile that curls on your lips as your eyes flicker between his. they're dark and stormy, glaring down at you with as much contempt as he can manage- it is hard, seeing as it's you after all.

"don't tell me you're jealous" you tilt your head at him.

toge's lips fall to a frown. he wants to argue with you, tell you he's not jealous, he just didn't want you consorting with the likes of noritoshi, but even if he could speak the words they wouldn't have been convincing in the slightest.

so instead he pushes forward, his chest hitting yours and your back hitting the metal behind you, and just as quickly his lips slam against yours in a rough, open-mouthed kiss.

you could laugh and tease him, tell him that jealousy looks good on him even when it was unwarranted, but his kiss holds so much fervor that you find yourself melting like putty in his hands. your free hand reaches out towards his collar in a pitiful attempt to yank him closer to you- as if that wre possible- but his reflexes are faster, and he had that wrist pinned beside your head as well. toge made it very clear that he was in charge and he would decide when you deserved to be free of this punishment.

(to be honest, you were happy to accept said punishment)

when he did pull away, his lips dragged over yours with a shaky exhale, like he had finally let go of his anger. you tilted your head at him as your eyes met, and he let your hands go.

you rested them against his chest, smoothing out the wrinkles in his uniform, before meeting his gaze again.

"for the record," you hummed, "noritoshi was trying to talk shit. so i was happily telling him that even without yuuta we were going to kcik kyoto's asses so hard they'd cry all the way back to their school,"

toge huffs, looking down at you with an almost embarrassed look on his face. but you giggled as your lips curled into a grin.

you leaned on the tips of your toes so you could whisper in his ear, "but if you want to kiss me like that again when he's around to prove a point, i won't complain" effectively making the tips of his ears go red. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[s-i-ll-y-w-i-ll-y]

Be our guest~

Hannigram/ Hannibal Lecter x Will Graham x Teen!reader

Summary: Hannibal and Will host a small dinner party between themselves, a work friend and her family. But with Will and Hannibal, there’s no such thing as a happy ending.

TW! Drugging, Delulu Hannibal, mention of blood, mention of vomit(not detailed)

~~~~~~

“Do we have to eat with them?” Your father groaned to your mother as he parked the car next to the house.

“Yes. They’re my friends and it’s not everyday we get to eat out.” Your mother snapped back. She opened her car door and stepped out slowly, brushing down the creases in her dress.

With a heavy sigh, you opened your car door and followed your mother to the small, metal gate at the front of the garden. The silky darkness of night preventing any greenery to show over the bars, causing the grey stone path ahead to be hard to navigate.

You held onto your mother’s arm as she stumbled forward in her heels. “It would be great to have my husband walk me to the front door. Not my child.” She scoffed bluntly.

“Walk yourself. You’d nag at me the whole way anyways.” Your father retorted, trailing behind. He passed your mum a bottle of wine, practically shoving it into her arms.

Your mother fixed her hair before pressing the doorbell. A pleasant ring echoed behind the tall door and soon after the door creaked open.

“Y/M/N, Hannibal and I are so happy you could make it.” The man smiled as he stepped aside to allow your family to enter, taking the bottle of wine from your mum with a small thank you. He shook your fathers hand before guiding you all to the lounge. They’re house was big. Bigger than yours or any house you had been in before. It had room after room all the way down the hall, with a big staircase at the end. Each wall had something on it, either art or a clock. No family photos or honeymoon pictures. Just rich art or an old clock.

The man sat down beside your dad, although while speaking to your parents his eyes were tracked on you. Eventually he looked away to address all of you, “Hannibal’s in the kitchen at the moment, hopefully he’ll be through in a second to greet you.”

And, as if it were rehearsed, who you assumed was Hannibal waltzed through the doorway. He dried his hands off with a towel before throwing it over his shoulder. “Y/M/N, I’m so glad you could come. Good to see you as well, Y/F/N, have you been doing better since our last appointment?”

Your father rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable on a leather sofa before answering, “Yeah yeah, I’ve been doing great.”

You looked towards your mother, noticing how her gaze lingered on Hannibal, her eyes taking in every inch of him. She never looked at your dad like that.

Yikes.

Hannibal narrowed his eyes and stared at your father for a moment too long, as if he was analysing him, before reverting his gaze to you. “You must be Y/N. Your father speaks of you often.”

“All bad, I assume.” You joked, offering the man a small smile.

He hummed at your joke, returning the smile. “Well, I’m sorry to cut this short but I have to get back to work. Y/F/N, would you care to help me?” His gaze darted back to your dad.

Begrudgingly, your father stood up and sauntered over to Hannibal, presumably to follow him into the kitchen.

“So, Y/N,” the other man began, “your mother tells me you’re heading down the same path as her. Studying to be a criminal psychologist too?”

You gently nodded, “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

A somber silence fell between the three of you until your mother spoke up and sparked a conversation which you had no interest in. Something about Abel Gideon’s attack or whatever.

After half an hour of boring conversation and staring at the ceiling, Dr Lecter called all of you through to the dining room. That’s how you found out the other man’s name, Will.

You took your seat between Will and Dr Lecter, letting your parents sit together. The adults began chatting about work and life and God knows what else. All of it was boring.

While you were poking and prodding at the fish on your plate you heard your name be muttered by Dr Lecter. Your head shot up in his direction.

“What do you think?”

A soft blush burned your cheeks as you bashfully stated, “I’m really sorry but I haven’t been paying attention.”

He chuckled softly before asking what you thought of the food. To which you only gave compliments, not wanting to upset him. Dr Lecter smiled softly, thanking you, before turning back to speaking with your parents.

Throughout the numerous courses Dr Lecter brought out, you slowly began to feel more and more sick and tired, to the point where you felt your eyes rolls back in your head and your stomach churn and ache.

You gently placed your fork on your plate and leaned back in your chair, immediately gaining attention from Will who nudged you.

“You okay, kid?” His face strewn with worry.

Sweat dripped down your brow as you nodded sharply, “Yeah, no, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”

“Well, we have a guest bedroom upstairs that we would be more than happy to let you borrow.” Dr Lecter chimed in.

“No it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“We insist.”

After that you had no say in wether you went or not. Will slowly guided you up the stairs and down the hall, at points he was pausing to make sure you were fine.

You always said you were fine despite your migraine making your vision blurry and your feet feeling numb. Once you reached the top of the stairs, you fell into Will and luckily he caught you, picking you up before you could try to stand again. You would have been so embarrassed if you hadn’t been feeling this bad.

The walk to the spare bedroom was tedious. Time felt as if it had slowed down to taunt you- to make sure you felt every second of pain.

Finally, Will reached the room. The door creaked open and the light flickered on. Through your blurry vision you almost thought it was your room at home. Same bed frame, wardrobe, vanity, dresser- all of it was identical. Maybe you were just being crazy. Maybe this was your brain trying to comfort you and make you see a place that makes you feel safe.

He gently placed you down on the bed, making you sit up to the best of your ability while he took off your shoes so the sheets didn’t get muddy. He then pulled back the duvet and let you fall onto the pillow, immediately falling asleep. He smiled, softly brushing hair out of your face before stepping out of the room and turning off the lights.

~

A loud crash abruptly woke you up, jolting you upright. A sense of dread washed over you as you peeled back the covers and slowly navigated your way to the thin line of light emerging from the frame of the door.

A shiver racked down your spine as the cold, hard wooden floors touched your feet.

Each step on the floor creaked under the weight of you. The loudness made you worried that the wrong person could hear and come to get you.

They were probably just watching a movie, you reasoned with yourself, trying to think of any logical explanation while feeling like something was watching you.

The abyss like darkness which awaited you at the bottom of the steps was the worst. That feeling of dread set in faster and harder as you stepped into the nothingness that called out for you.

Trying to find a way around this house felt impossible. You felt like a rat trapped in a maze trying to find its reward, and your rat race reward could only be freedom.

You crept into the kitchen, then the dining room, then the lounge, flicking on the lights as you did. Each one you were wary about entering, that dread in your stomach building up more and more.

And when a hand clasped your shoulder, you felt like crying out. You spun around, pushing the hand away and stumbling to the plush, carpeted floor. Looking up, you saw the slim and shadowed figure of one of your hosts for the evening,

Will.

Your eyes widened as you heard him call out for Hannibal. Quickly, you scrambled to your feet and made a mad dash for the closest exit, accidentally bumping into something.

Something whose chest rose and fell with each heavy heaving breath, something which grabbed you and pulled you close, something that glistened with sweat and blood in the bright white moonlight from out the old windows.

“It’s alright, Mischa..” Hannibal sighed, holding you against him, “You’re safe now.”

~~~~~~~

02:03 Saturday, 10th of August 2024

10/8/24

AN- this is low-key shit, but I kinda like the idea. I just don’t think I could write it well.

Also, three hours ago it was my birthday 🥳🥳🦅

Love you all :3

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

You gotta admit, the start of The Mandalorian was a very weird couple of days for Grogu.

I mean, it all starts with blasterfire in the camp (which, by now, is really nothing new to this kid). But then everything goes still and your relatively safe little pod is opened by a droid and a guy wearing a helmet. You know they were the cause of the blasterfire and they seem to be working together but then the droid tries to shoot you—which, yeah, okay, fair; not the first time this has happened, maybe it’ll be over now—and there’s a shot but not from the droid, no, helmet-guy just took out his partner.

Okay.

That’s… also probably not unusual.

But then. THEN. Helmet-guy tilts his head and holds out a finger in a way people do for babies they want to interact with, not targets they’re gonna bring in. So you reach back because, hey, this guy seems kinda nice.

You leave together and it’s a really long way. You get ambushed and attacked by more hunters and helmet-guy protects you. You carry on. Helmet-guy is NOT a talker. But that’s cool; you don’t talk either.

You see he’s hurt. He’s been pretty nice so far and, hey, he got hurting protecting you. Only fair you heal him. But you keep trying and he keeps putting you back in your pod and, again, the fact neither of you talk is a problem. Whatever. He can suffer; he won’t die.

You get to his ship and, yikes. What a dump. It’s such a mess. And there’s scavengers picking it all apart, making helmet-guy furious. Helmet-guy tries to chase them, I mean, actually chase them. He’s just one little man and that’s a big fat tank. What’s he thinking? That he’s just gonna stop it with his bare hands—oh, that does seem to be the strategy. (Starting to think this guy just wings everything he does in life. Like. There is no plan going on here whatsoever.)

Helmet-guy gets electrocuted by about twenty scavengers and falls like six storeys in an unconscious heap. Is he dead? Well. Can’t fix that. It was nice knowing him. Wonder how long until the next—oh, no. He’s okay. He’s sitting up. Okay. We’re back on track.

You go back to his ship and yup. Dump. Wires sparking and whole walls missing. The toilet’s even been pilfered. Yeah, okay, this place probably wasn’t always like this but—what are you doing starting the engines? The ship has holes in it, man. Gigantic, we’ll-get-sucked-out-into-space-and-freaking-die holes!

Another long walk. No talk. At least the sunset’s pretty. Get to a farm run by an old man. Helmet-guy apparently knows old man. Ooh! Frogs! Don’t mind if I do… (“spit that out” yeah right. You’re not the boss of me. You think I’m gonna take orders from a guy that just tried to fight a tank with his bare hands? Think again, buddy.)

Looooong trek through the night and, cherry on top, it’s raining. Not so great, but, hey! More frogs!

You reach the tank helmet-guy unsuccessfully tried to fight the other day. He and the old man start talking to the scavengers. Probably can’t hear what they’re saying, don’t know what the random fire demonstration is meant to accomplish, but when the scavengers start getting too close and too interested in you, helmet-guy shouts at them to get away. That’s nice of him. Scavengers start chanting. Now this is just weird.

Next thing you know, you’re all crammed into the tank—the same tank helmet-guy fought and fell off of. Helmet-guy doesn’t fit inside. He’s mad about this. He’s mad about everything. Scavengers continue chanting.

Tank stops. Helmet-guy takes you with him to a cave. He leaves you outside the cave and he goes in. Is this… is this part of the ritual? Should have brought a frog for the road… didn’t know this was gonna be a whole day affair… aaaaannnnnd now helmet-guy’s flying through the air. Kind of like how he fell off the tank. But faster. (Very throwable, this guy. The galaxy’s soccer ball, if you will.)

Helmet-guy lands in the mud and, boy, does he look like a train wreck. I mean, he’s been getting beat up pretty much every waking minute you’ve known him but this is taking the cake.

Still alive, though.

And moving.

(Seriously. What are his insides made of? Concrete???)

Then there’s roaring and stomping and this gigantic—and I mean GIGANTIC—horned beast comes out of the cave.

Is this what you were doing, helmet-guy? Provoking the dangerous wildlife? Is getting your butt kicked like a hobby for you or something?!?

Horned beast is, of course, rampaging mad and trying to grind helmet-guy into the mud. Helmet-guy is trying not to become mud and at the same time is making sure you’re out of the firing line. Again. Very considerate of him. But this is really not going well… helmet-guy is definitely not gonna survive this unless…

Oh.

What the hey?

Let’s use the Force.

You stop the horned beast and, yeesh, should’a stretched or warmed up or something. This is a lot to do after not tapping into the Force for literal decades. Reeeeeallly hope this works… gonna… pass… out…

And then you wake up, like, who knows how long after. Probably starving.

But, hey! Helmet-guy’s alright! That’s so great—wait, wait, wait… are we in space?!? In the ship without a toilet????!?!?

[reysdriver]

WE NEED MORE BLACK CAT READER AND TASM PETER THE TENSIONNNNN

you try to take off Spider-Man's mask on a rooftop at night — tasm!peter parker x blackcat!reader

warnings: none :)

words: 0.4k

a/n: okok im finally writing from my requests and I love that I'm getting back into writing Peter Parker oneshots again! Thanks so much to the anon who sent this in and gave me the idea!

“Oh, come on, Bug Boy.” You whined teasingly. “I just want to try it on. And I’ll give you mine in exchange.”

“Can’t do that, Kitty Cat.” He used the nickname he knows you hate. It’s fine when you do it and call him Bug Boy or Web-Head, but Kitty Cat is just stupid. 

Teasing Spider-Man is probably your favourite thing to do on a boring night, and tonight was no exception. You’ve been trying to get him to take off his mask all night, with no luck yet. 

“I also wanna see you. Come on, why not at least part of your face? It’s not fair that you basically get to see my whole face and you’re just a spandex silhouette to me.” 

He let out a small laugh. “Well, maybe that just means you should get a new mask.”

“Maybe you should get a new mask.” Yikes. That wasn’t your best, and he knew it too. 

“Oh, you’re losing it now, aren’t you?” 

You huffed and turned around so he couldn’t see your pout. One foot straight in front of the other, you walked carefully on top of the roof’s bannister while you thought of more ways to tease him.

“How about you close your eyes and I try to sneak up and take it off of you?” You proposed, your arm mimicking a predator snatching its prey. 

Spider-Man shook his head at your idea. “Even with my eyes closed, you couldn’t do it. Spidey senses have me one step ahead of you at all times.”

You scoffed. For him to think he was so much better than you? Rude. He was probably right, but you were still going to dramatise your offence. With a hand on your heart, you gasped exaggeratedly. “Excuse you, Web-Head, I’ve been practising. Just let me try. I bet I could get your mask off on the first try.”

He shot one of his webs against the wall, making a stringy blob against the brick. “You’re persistent, you know?” 

“I’m curious, and you love it.” 

“And what makes you so sure about that?” 

“Because you’re still here.” You stated confidently. “Out of all the rooftops in the city, you’re choosing to stay here with me.”

There was a pause, and you wondered if maybe you were wrong. Maybe you had been cocky and totally out of left field. Your worry was only relieved when he looked back at you and spoke up. 

“Seems like you’re onto me, Kitty Cat.”

[astercontrol]

So here's a funny little thought about Tron.

Yes, he is an oblivious goofball sometimes, BUT...

...He's a security program.

And, interestingly, his knowledge of security measures? Also seems to make him good at circumventing them himself.

We have it on good authority (Yori!) that before his latest stay in the pit cells, he had been captured and locked up -- and broken out by himself-- multiple times before.

"I knew you'd escape! They haven't built a circuit that could hold you!"

Interesting side note: although we in fandom most commonly use "circuit" to mean the patterns on the programs' bodies, Yori here uses "circuit" to mean a literal computer circuit-- a place in the computer that Tron could be kept.

But anyway, this establishes that Tron has a history of breaking out of any circuit they try to keep him in.

Back in the cells, when Flynn arrived, Tron was already planning (with great confidence!) to do this again.

"You really think the Users are still there?"

"They'd better be. I don't wanna bust out of here and find nothing but a lot of cold circuits waiting for me."

He has no doubt that he'll "bust out of here" eventually. His only concern is that maybe he'll find only "cold circuits" (which is a little ambiguous, but I took it to mean something like "cold empty hallways," with no User presence).

He has more faith in his own escape-artist abilities than he has in the actual Users.

So.

Let's go forward to when he actually does get out.

This happened with Flynn's help.

Flynn, racing against an enemy lightcyclist, turned at the wall and led the enemy to crash into it, making a large crack.

Then, Flynn went off toward that crack, announcing to Tron and Ram:

"I'm getting out of here right now and you guys are invited."

And all he hears back?

"Got it." Like that, monotone. Didn't even sound excited.

(And that was Ram, the polite one! Tron doesn't even bother answering.)

Sooo. Conclusion? This thing with the cracks in the walls is not even a surprise.

It happens a lot-- often enough that the announcer-lady voice has a prepared announcement for it.

"Video game warriors escaping game grid! This is an illegal exit."

(She doesn't sound surprised either, for what it's worth.)

Tron was confident in his ability to escape because he knew this was gonna happen sooner or later. He'd probably seen it happen! He was just waiting for it to happen when he was in a position to take advantage of it.

Yes, Flynn happened to be involved in making it happen, this time. But, in their whole little interlude in the energy-pool cavern, Tron and Ram never once express thanks or admiration or awe or anything. It's like Flynn's part in this was totally unremarkable.

Now, when Tron introduces him to Yori, he does have the decency to give Flynn fair credit for being the one who happened to "bust him out"....

and Yori does mention that some thanks might be in order... although their primary focus shifts pretty fast to "yikes look at him getting all up in Yori's space like a creep."

Neither one of them seems impressed that Flynn helped with the escape. All the congratulation for Flynn's knowledge of how to break out of there? It's all self-congratulation-- right before Flynn seems to decide that now's the time he has to admit to being a User, in order to explain this great feat.

Really, Flynn. Really?

(I'm not saying Flynn was 100% useless on the entire mission. There was still the MCP Distraction that he provided. It's possible Tron wouldn't have been able to find a substitute for that.)

(But still. Really, Flynn.)

[annievrse]

vodka problems

eren x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: sasha and connie throw a party, and all the exciting things happen at parties! OR in which you and eren are exes, and it's the first party you both attend after the break-up. w/c: 5k+ warnings: maybe ooc eren (because idk how to write him yet, yikes), angst, alcohol, dissociating, c-word (3 whole times), swearing, anxiety about the future & love, maybe some errors, and a rushed ending because i had no more ideas. a/n: this isn’t how i thought this would go, but it’s how it turned out so, enjoy.

You were going to kill them. Nothing could sway you from doing so. Sasha Braus was about to be your first victim, and Connie Springer your second. The plan was already brewing in your mind: promise them an all-you-can-eat buffet, take the pair to a warehouse, blindfolded, get them into a position where the method of execution could be performed (you hadn’t thought that far ahead yet), and then strike. Quick and easy, and nobody would be surprised; they couldn’t even be convinced to go in the first place because you’d already said this to their faces. 

“Don’t be so dramatic!” Sasha exclaimed, rolling her eyes. You glared at her from your spot on her bed and then at Connie, who sat on the floor against the wall across the room. 

Connie laughed manically. “She’s gone insane!” 

You shook your head, clenching your fists to stop the slight shaking of your hands. “Guys…” 

At the sound of your exasperated tone, Sasha threw a lone throw pillow at Connie’s face, and the pair stopped teasing. 

“Listen,” Sasha started, sauntering toward you. “We can’t just… exclude him from our group get-togethers because you broke up.” 

It was the truth you had accepted a month ago, yet it was like a thousand needles in your stomach when Sasha said it aloud. You nodded, your gaze finding your hands.

“I’m sure he feels the same right now,” Sasha looked over her shoulder at Connie, who shrugged. The former rolled her eyes again and turned back to you. “Or at least, I hope he does. Asshole.” 

“Hey! It’s not like he’s been sleeping around! Eren’s a good guy,” Connie’s face screwed up in an angered expression at the thought that his closest friends were talking wrong about his other friend. “Just because he’s not hung up on this doesn’t make him an asshole!” He stood up, Sasha facing him. 

His last comment made your eyes weary. The one thousand needles tripled. 

“We know that! But-–” Sasha tilted her head in your direction. “Let girls talk shit, okay? It was a bad situation.” 

Connie cringed at the mention of the aftermath of your and Eren’s breakup. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I am right,” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Y/n is allowed to react the way she is because girls can feel emotions without being overdramatic.” 

“What about killing us? You said she was being dramatic.” 

“I mean, threatening to kill your friends is a little…” Sasha glanced at you. “But everything else! I know what you boys have been saying, and it’s not only hurtful to Y/n but to me! And Mikasa! Girls, in general! Just because Eren moved on so quickly doesn’t mean Y/n has to! She has every right to feel the way she does. I was like this for months when Nic and I broke up!”

“That was a different thing, and you got back together.”

“Besides the point!”

“Sasha?” You pipe up, tired of watching your friends argue over you. 

The two twist their heads toward you, forgetting you were there. Sasha’s eyes softened when she saw the dejected look on your face. 

“I’m just gonna go,” You wring your fingers. “I’ll see you tonight, though. Yeah?” 

Connie opened his mouth to say something, but Sasha elbowed him. “Yes, we will be seeing you tonight. Glad you’re coming.” 

You got up from the bed, and Sasha hugged you.

“Bye, Con.”

“Bye,” Connie replied solemnly. 

As you left the room, you heard a smack. “Do you ever know when to shut the fuck up, Springer?” 

You left their shared apartment—where you would return later. 

7:29 pm

Hearing the elevator ding, you turned towards the opening doors; the smell of sweat, alcohol, and weed hit you in the face as you exited. Despite Sasha and Connie’s apartment halfway down the hallway, the music and scents spilled out their front door. 

You held the bottle of Chardonnay you had brought loosely between your fingers, the effects of the other bottle of wine you had downed before coming hitting you straight on: liquid courage and all that. 

You opened the door without knocking and stepped into Sasha and Connie’s apartment. Music made the floor vibrate, which was ignored due to your inebriated and gloomy state. 

“Y/n!” Hands on your shoulders, and the familiar ecstatic energy of your best friend drew you out of your daze. “You’re here!” 

“I’m here!” You laughed bitterly, although the previous unwanted anxiety and feelings towards tonight were already dissipating. 

“Oh jeez, you’re already gone,” Sasha shook her head disapprovingly. “Tch, should’ve kept you here from this morning.” 

You disagreed. “No! See, I wouldn’t have brought us a bottle if I stayed here. This is for nobody else.” 

Sasha’s grin grew wider. “Thank you!”

You lifted the bottle towards her face, giggling. Sasha snatched the bottle out of your hand as soon as it was close enough and uncapped it, all in one motion.

Your jaw dropped at the sight of the now half-empty bottle in her hands. “Sash!” 

She held the bottle out of your reach and grabbed your hand, pulling you into the kitchen. “I think the boys are in Connie’s room, but don’t worry, I won’t take you to them.”

You knew who the boys entailed, and you were beyond grateful. 

“Annie, Ymir, and Historia are in the living room, playing some board game. I don’t know who does that at a party, but they’re having fun…” Then she looked behind you. “Oh! Marco,” Sasha pushed you backwards slightly. “Get Y/n a drink. I gotta pee.” 

You stumbled back into a tall figure, spinning around to meet your friend. “Marco!”

The freckled boy rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. “Y/n! What would you like?”

You pursed your lips in thought. “Make me a mimosa? Mr. Bartender?” 

Marco laughed and reached up to retrieve a glass from the cupboard unit beside you. “Of course, Miss. Any special requests?” 

You eyed the Grey Goose on the counter, not thinking twice about your answer. “Hold the vodka, please.” 

Marco blanched as he poured sparkling wine into a cup. “Oh, yeah, okay. No problem.” 

You folded your lips between your teeth at the awkward air settling between you, and you didn’t think your response through before it slipped out. The music from the living room speakers, paired with the clink of a spoon on glass, was the only sound in the kitchen. 

It was no secret what had happened between you and Eren—the entire friend group had been there to witness it, which was the worst part. A party, a few bottles of vodka, and insecurities from both sides were at play that night. It was a recipe for disaster, and it just so happened that you and Eren were the casualties, along with friendships that were becoming more strained as the weeks passed. It didn’t help that you or Eren were often missing from group gatherings when the other was present, but somehow, Sasha had managed to get you in the same apartment as him for a night. It was either a master plan that could save the group or cause it to dismantle completely, and nobody wanted that. 

“Here you go,” Marco said, pushing the glass across the counter. 

Tears welled in your eyes at his sudden distance. “Thanks, Marc.” 

At the sound of your teary voice, his eyes shot toward you. “Hey, hey,” He reached for you, bringing you into his chest. “I’m sorry. No crying tonight, okay? Nobody hates you, I promise. You are as much a part of this group as he is. You are not allowed to leave.” 

“Who said I was leaving?” You mumbled into his chest, tears dampening his t-shirt. 

“People talk,” He replied, rubbing your back. “And a little Sasha told me you mentioned the group would be better without you.” 

You sniffled and laughed, eyes watery. “Can you blame me? Mikasa hasn’t spoken to me in a month, and Armin only says hello when he has to. I can’t keep putting myself through that. I don’t want to lose more friends over this.”

“If I were a nice person who cared about your well-being, I would tell you to leave us ASAP. But since I’m not, I need you to stay, okay? Who else would I make mimosas for at these ‘parties’?” 

You laughed and pulled away. “Nobody.” 

“Exactly!” Marco exclaimed. “And just you being here tonight tells me you don’t actually want to leave.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“No guessing about it,” Marco stepped back. “You are staying. Now,” He clapped. “Wanna join the losers in the living room for a game of Monopoly?” 

You nodded, sipping your drink. Marco would never know the effect his words had on you. No matter what happened with Eren, you had a place in this group. Sure, Sasha had repeatedly told you the same thing, but hearing it from someone else, who didn’t have to say anything, was special. “I would love to.”

9:02 pm

After Sasha had joined the game and Historia had won Monopoly (thanks to Ymir, who kept slipping her money under the table), the rest of the boys emerged from Connie’s room, bringing the stench of weed along with them. 

“Holy shit! Y/n?” Jean yelled in greeting. The grin on his face was wide, and it caused one to break across your cheeks too. 

“Hi, Jeanie,” You laughed, standing up from the couch. You rounded the table to hug him, ignoring the others. You and Jean had always been close, even before you started dating Eren. Not seeing him because you chose to distance yourself proved more hurtful than beneficial. 

“Haven’t seen you for ages. How are you?” His voice was soft against your ear, and you tightened your arms around him. 

“Been better, but I missed you.” 

“We’re here too, you know,” Connie piped up, rolling his eyes. 

“I saw you this morning, idiot,” You laughed, Jean joining you as you pulled apart. 

You stepped to the right of Jean and scanned the faces of everyone in Connie’s room; Armin, Mikasa, Bertie, Reiner, Eren (sparingly), Connie himself, and—who is she? 

A petite brunette girl stood at Eren’s side. Her features were sharp and tinted pink when you met her eyes. 

You lifted your hand in a lazy wave and turned back to the couch. Your chest tightened at seeing someone you didn’t know hanging out with your group—were they replacing you already? 

Sasha noticed your fidgety hands and grabbed them as you sat next to her. You didn’t look anywhere but at the table. 

The room grew tense and awkward. 

And when nobody spoke, Eren threw his arms up. “I’m getting a beer. Anyone want one?” 

The sound of his voice was cutting. It shredded the weeks of progress you had tried to heal and buried deep into your subconsciousness. You missed his voice. 

Your eyes lifted, and when your gaze landed on him, Eren inhaled sharply. “I’ll have one.” 

Everybody held their breath as you and Eren exchanged words. They never thought they’d see the day, even if it was to be mean to each other. 

Eren’s lip curled. “You sure you don’t want vodka? I heard it’s good for ruining relationships, which you seem great at!”

“Okay! That’s where we end that. Real mature,” Sasha stood abruptly, her hands ripping from yours. “Eren, a word?” 

“Would love one, Sasha,” Eren’’s tone was clipped as he stalked back down the hallway. 

The brunette girl shifted her weight. You watched her stand awkwardly without Eren there. 

You couldn’t move with everyone’s eyes on you. With your muscles frozen, you’re eyes were unblinking as the muffled voices from down the hallway got louder. 

“Y/n, right?” A new voice spoke. You lifted your head and saw the new girl walking hesitantly toward you. “I’m Cate.” 

Your eyes flickered to Jean, who was holding his breath. A small smile replaced your blank stare as you shook the girl’s hand. You couldn’t hate this girl. No matter what happened between you and Eren, she would never be the target of your anger. 

“Nice to meet you.”

Around you, the room started moving normally again. Laughs were heard, and conversation picked back up. After her introduction, Cate scuttered to the kitchen, and you slumped back into the couch. 

“Nice to meet you,” Jean teased, flopping down next to you, lifting his leg to put it over your lap. 

“Shut the fuck up. What was I meant to say?” You snapped, smacking his knee. 

“What you said was fine. Jean’s just being a dick,” Marco said from the other side of you. 

“If anything, Eren’s being a dick,” Jean mumbled. 

You said nothing. And when Jean was going to start speaking again, a pair of legs stopped in front of you. 

The blonde boy looked nervous as he looked down at you. “Hey, Y/n.” 

“Hi, Armin. How are you?” 

He sighed and smiled. “I’m well. How are you?”

You shrugged one shoulder. “You know…” 

Armin nodded and sat on the coffee table in front of you. Your knees hit his as you pouted at him. 

“Armin… why haven’t I seen you in biochem?” You asked, giggling as you said your following sentence. “You didn’t drop out, did you?” 

Armin gaped at your jab and shook his head. “I’m offended at the thought! I had to change classes. It clashed with my other biology class.”

You smiled understandingly. “I guess I was just hurt you didn’t tell me. I know it can be awkward.” 

Armin sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me.” 

“I always want to hear from you,” You furrowed your eyebrows. “You’re the only one who listens to my ramblings about everything.” 

Jean and Marco went to object, saying anything about how they’d had heard it all for the past few weeks when Armin laughed. “That’s true. Got anything for me right now?” 

“And that’s when we leave,” Jean stood, motioning for Marco to do the same. “Bye, guys.” 

10:39 pm

To say a majority of the group was intoxicated would be an understatement. 

Ymir and Historia left an hour ago because Historia was on the verge of passing out. Sasha and Eren had gone to different ends of the apartment a while ago after Sasha yelled at him for half an hour. He hadn’t looked in your direction since he came out of the room. 

Eren now sat, with Cate, on the couch, a beer held loosely between his fingers, taking sparse swigs. His eyes were heavy, but his cold facade never wavered. Surrounding him were Bertie, Reiner, Mikasa, Armin, and Annie. They were conversing about the NBA or NFL; you couldn’t remember the topic when you left. 

Conversely, you were perched on the counter in the kitchen as Marco, Jean, Connie, and Sasha competed in a ‘who could make the better drink’, with you as the judge. You were beyond tipsy, everything falling from your lips unfiltered, which was good and bad when tasting their beverages. 

Your face soured as you swallowed. “Fuck, Jean! That’s disgusting!” 

The tall boy cackled, holding his stomach as you tipped the rest of the drink down the sink. “I spent my time on that! You're so ungrateful!” 

The rest of the group laughed at your misfortune, pushing various shaped cups and glasses in your direction for you to try. 

The laughter soon died when Cate walked into the kitchen. She wore a smile on her face and waved when she noticed everyone’s eyes on her. “Hey, guys. What’re you doing?” 

“Best drink competition, wanna play? Y/n’s judging,” Connie asked, his eyes hanging and words slurred. 

“Uh, yes! I’ll make mine now. No peeking!” She laughed, picking up a random cup off the opposite counter. You and the others covered your eyes playfully. 

“Okay, done,” Cate muttered, handing you a black cup. “Tell me what you think.” 

Maybe it was the alcohol playing tricks on you, but when she handed you the cup, the typical mischief you’d encountered in everyone else’s eyes when they gave you their drinks was far less dark and cynical than hers. Cate wore a smirk as Jean did, but it seemed more calculated than his silly one. But your drunk brain was too dismissive to take it to heart. So, you took a sip of her drink. 

And when the sharp tang of vodka hit your tongue, you almost vomited. Your lips parted, and your eyes watered at the taste and what it had caused you weeks ago. 

“Bitch,” You whispered, yet nobody heard. 

The kitchen was silent as Cate stood before you, arms folded over her chest. She leaned closer to you, her mouth next to your ear. “It’s a shame. You’re so pretty but such a cunt. I almost feel bad for the guy. He had to tolerate you for so long. Thanks for letting me have him.” 

And as Cate fell back onto her heels, she sighed, like uttering those words filled her with relief. 

Sasha instantly recognised the look on your face and gasped. Even in her drunken haze, she had perfect aim. Her palm came in contact with Cate’s cheek before the boys could even react, and you took no notice of what had just happened, gaze unfocused and on the floor. 

“Woah!” Connie yelled, placing his glass in the sink to hold back his best friend. 

“Sasha, what?” Jean exclaimed, hooking his arms around Cate’s from behind. 

And Marco was silent. He stood beside you, taking the cup from your hands and sniffing the liquid. He sighed when he recognised the smell. “Fuck.” He whispered. 

“You’re never allowed back into my house! Get out!” Sasha screamed. “Or you’ll finally get to see the crazy bitch you’ve been calling me for a month!” 

The commotion had finally caused a reaction from the group in the living room, who were now flooding the space. The music was quiet, which made the scene more tense.

“What the fuck is going on?” Reiner yelled over the arguing, taking notice of Cate in Jean’s arms and Sasha in Connie's. 

“Let go of me, Connie!” Sasha cried. She now had tears streaming down her face at the same rate as you. 

You were dissociating; Sasha could see it clear as day. Your hands shook, and your eyes were unfocused as you stared at the floor, your body swaying ever so slightly. 

“Please, let me go.” 

Having heard the plea and sadness in Sasha’s voice, Connie released her. The girl stumbled out of his hold and rushed toward you, helping you off the counter with Marco’s assistance. She ushered you back into the living room and down the hallway to her room. 

“Let go of Cate, bro,” Eren snapped, stepping forward to reach her. 

Jean threw his friend a glare. “Okay, bro,” Jean laughed bitterly and let go of the brunette. 

Nobody in the kitchen said a word except for Marco, who had had enough awkward silences tonight. 

“Before you go, Eren, because you tend to do that a lot now, I’d take a good, hard look at who you’re keeping company,” Marco shifted his gaze to Cate, who stood rubbing her arms. 

“Me? You think this is my fault? That girl is insane! No wonder you broke up, Ren,” She looked up at Eren. 

The other boys, Mikasa and Annie, watched anxiously for Eren’s next move. 

11:00 pm

Meanwhile, you were in Sasha’s room sipping on a water bottle she handed you. Despite the short time, you were already starting to sober up, both from the shock of what just happened and the granola bar Sasha had forced down your throat after she locked her bedroom door. 

“God, I hate her. I tried to keep quiet tonight for Eren’s sake, but I can’t, not after that,” Sasha mumbled. “What did she say to you?” 

“Uh,” You bit your bottom lip. “She called me a cunt and thanked me for giving her Eren or something. I don’t know. I zoned out.” 

Sasha let out a noise of frustration. “If I could punch Eren, I would. He has some serious nerve bringing her here when he knew you were coming.” 

“It’s no big deal. I mean, it’s true,” You said tonelessly. “I did some fucked up stuff to him that night.” 

“Firstly, shut up! You’re not a cunt, how are you? You got the courage to come here in the first place, and I’m so proud of you. Just because one girl, who must hate women, said that about you doesn’t mean you are one. It's a reflection of her, not you. And secondly, he said shit too! You’re both in the wrong. Stop taking all the blame.” 

“Thanks, Sash.” 

“You know what I mean. It’s bullshit. I hate that people took sides; I really do. It makes me feel like our group wasn’t as close as I thought.”

You placed your hand in hers. “I’m sorry for fucking up our friend group.”

Sasha sighed. “You didn’t fuck it up,” her eyes were glassy when she looked at you. “I think it was already fucked up.” 

Her statement made you laugh sadly. 

But your laugh was cut short by the sound of the front door slamming. You shared a look with Sasha as you heard footsteps approaching the bedroom door. 

“That’s probably Jean. Bet Eren left,” Sasha mumbled, squeezing your hand before straightening up from her bed. 

And as she opened the door, nothing could prepare you for who was standing there with his fist raised to knock. 

“Oh my god,” Sasha groaned. “Have you finally decided to talk to her? All it took was some girl to insult her for you to want to speak with her?” 

Every muscle in your body was unmoving. It was like someone had poured ice water over your head. If you hadn’t sobered up from the snack and water before, you definitely had now. 

“Sasha, please,” Eren whispered. Even though he towered over Sasha, Eren looked small. He was curled in on himself, shoulders hunched. 

“It’s okay, Sash,” You stated, noticing how Eren’s demeanour changed at your words. He looked almost the same as when you were together, ganging up on your friends to tease them lovingly. 

“Fine,” Sasha said firmly. Then she brought her finger to Eren’s chest. “But if you make her cry, I will strangle you.” 

Eren just nodded, knowing it wasn’t the time to joke around. Sasha side-stepped to let him inside her room before turning around and holding the door handle.

“I will shut this door for privacy only. I don’t want to walk in here later to see you’ve killed each other,” Despite her words, Sasha smiled as she said so. 

“Bye, Sash,” You wave, hyperaware of Eren standing a few feet away. 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

And when the door clicked shut, Eren shifted in his spot. You waited for him to speak, but it never came. You guessed his conversation with Sasha earlier in the night had put him in his place.

“Where do you wanna start?” You asked, choosing to help him sort out his thoughts instead of attacking him immediately. 

Eren, seemingly grateful, fidgeted with his hands. “I want to talk about the party first.” 

You nodded, looking away from him. 

“I wanna start by saying we both had too much to drink that night. I should’ve never tried to find you afterwards; I was just so confused and hurt,” Only then did Eren glance in your direction. You met his eyes and shook your head. “I want to hear your side, but could I say my piece first?” 

You nodded, allowing him to continue. 

“Thanks,” He sighed with a crooked smile and shook his head softly to rid it. “Anyway, I, uh—that night went downhill so fast. I know they say that drunk words are sober thoughts, I know. But at that moment, I was so angry. I was angry at myself, you, and everyone else at that damn party because I—I couldn't take the questions, and the expectations, and the responsibilities. And you’re right. I am immature because I couldn’t understand why you made that choice, and I still don’t understand why you did. It just hurt me so deeply that I didn’t know how to accept it. I still don’t!"

"I stumbled around all night with that damn bottle of vodka because I knew you liked it, and when I saw you with the same bottle dancing with Sasha, I snapped. I couldn't believe you were having fun after hurting me so badly," Eren paced the floor. “But I can’t move on from you, sweetheart. I really can’t. And tonight,” He sighed deeply. “I don’t know why I brought her here. I guess I just wanted you to hurt as much as I do. But, if I knew she would act like that toward you, I never would've spoken to her in the first place. I’m sorry for that.” 

Tears brimmed your lash line as you nodded. Eren remained near the door. 

“I—uh, I’m sorry for everything I said too. Yes, you can be immature, but you’re not arrogant or aloof when speaking about serious stuff; you're doing it right now. And I’m sorry for doubting your love for me—in hindsight, it was a shitty thing to say considering…” You trailed off.

Eren stayed silent.

“I literally hung you out to dry in front of everyone, and you're still here trying to make amends with me!" You exclaimed, angry with yourself. "That's like one of the least immature things ever."

You sighed, rubbing your forehead. "That night scared the shit out of me, with all the talk about the future and what we’re going to do when we graduate literally next semester. Eren,” You look up at him. “I don’t have any plan. I’m going to finish my degree, and then what? I don’t want this to end. I don’t want to see my friends once a year because we’re all on different sides of the country, of the world! I want to stay here with the lunatics out there and you.”

The sudden confession made you pause. Eren inhaled sharply, meeting your eyes. You swallowed and continued. “I always wanted to stay with you.” 

Neither of you spoke. As you stared at each other, you noticed small things about Eren’s appearance that hadn’t been there the last time you’d seen him: the flyaways near his face were longer, his usual clean-shaven jaw was lightly stubbled, his black t-shirt was tighter around his arms, and the green in his eyes was darker. 

Eren broke the silence first. “I just want to know why you said no,” He begged. 

You were waiting for this question. Sure, Eren had asked it when you’d first answered his initial question, but now, he deserved an explanation. He hadn’t been angry at your answer, more heartbroken than anything. 

“You say you want to stay with me forever, yet you say no at the first real chance to do that.” 

You blinked, and tears fell down your cheeks. “I know,” Your voice was strained as you wiped at your eyes. “I’m sorry.” 

The bed dipped beside you, and Eren’s thigh pressed against yours. And as you hiccuped, Eren wrapped his arm around your shoulders, letting you lean into him. 

“It’s my biggest regret, saying no to you. I couldn't believe you’d actually want me like that.” 

“Of course, I want you like that. I want you in every way if you’d let me. But until you say the word, I’m not acting on anything you don’t want me to.”

You lifted your head from his chest and turned toward him. His arm fell from your shoulders, and you took his hands in yours. 

“If you asked me again, just know I’d say yes,” You cried. “That night… that night was among the very few when I didn’t believe you were real. There is absolutely no way that someone could love me the way you do. Nobody. I believed I would never be loved like that from a very young age. And it was confusing when you came into my life and told me differently after I'd spent years drilling into my mind that I’d be alone forever.” 

“I was terrified that saying yes meant I was falling for some cruel joke,” Eren’s hand hovered over your cheek before you tilted your face to rest in his hand. “But now that you’re still here, still wanting to marry me after I said all those horrible things to you, I know what you feel is true. You’re true.” 

Eren laughed, eyes watery as he nodded. “That doesn't make sense. But, yeah, I’m real, and my love for you will always be real.” 

"It only took a failed proposal for me to realise what I lost," You cringed, peering over at Eren.

He gave you a pained expression, hand over his chest. "Ouch, at my expense?"

You nodded, dragging your hand over your cheeks. "Unfortunately."

And just like that, the pair of you fell back in sync. Eren wrapped his arms around your shoulders, hugging you close. "I know we still have a lot to talk about, but can we just sit here for now?"

"Yeah," You whispered, circling your arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier in the living room," Eren muttered.

"It's okay. I was ready to say something mean back before Sasha interrupted. So I'll apologise for the intent."

Eren snorted. "I don't think anything you say to me could stop me from loving you."

"Even when I yell at you for leaving dishes in the sink?"

"Especially then," And then you felt him lick your cheek.

"And he's back," You mumble, wiping the side of your face. "I was starting to miss the weird side of you."

"Not my fault."

"Too soon."

You pulled yourself out of his embrace and composed yourself, wiping under your eyes and shaking your arms.

“Let’s start over,” Sticking your hand out, you sighed. “Hi, I’m Y/n.” 

Eren shook his head and clutched your outstretched hand. “Hi, Y/n. I’m Eren. I hope you don’t mind, but I will propose about a month into our inevitable relationship.” 

You smiled at him, tears slipping past your lashes again. “And this time, I’ll say yes, Mr Jaeger.” 

“Hey, I never told you my last name.” 

[chernabogs]

Hi Ames 👀🫶

First, giving you smooches as congrats for your 100 follower milestone :3💖

I saw your prompt list and I was like ANGST POTENTIAL with all the prompt lines, but I picked some out with a more fluff mood in mind~

May I please request a Leona Kingscholar x gn!reader fluff read where there’s a storm on Sage Island and Leona’s been helping reader with their homework at Ramshackle but he can’t go back to his dorm bc of the storm

So he has to stay in Ramshackle over night with reader ehehehe

Here are the prompt lines I picked out:

- “The storm’s getting worse”

- “You look better in my clothes than I do”

- “You snore in your sleep. It’s adorable”

- “Sorry to put you through that. I guess I owe you one now”

Take ur time and if you can’t do mine, no worries :)

TYYYYY <3 <3 I love some good Leona content... I wrote him once but I'm ready to go again LKNAJF

Lights Out

Inc: Leona x Reader (GN), Ruggie (briefly) Warning: None! Not really romantic, but like... semi vibes. Sneaky vibes. If you squint you see them. WC: 2.6k Summary: An agreement to help you study leads to an unexpected situation when the weather turns sour

The weather had been kind for the entire week, and so Leona should have assumed by default that it was all a ruse. He had agreed (under some pressure from both your dire expression and Ruggies repetitive pestering) to assist you with your ancient curse’s homework—which really means he’s going to sit there and watch you while only offering a few scraps of information. He can’t make it too easy for you, no? 

The sky had been cloud free—as blue as a robin's egg, with the softest of breezes dancing across campus as the early spring began to wake from her slumber. He had spent a good portion of the day dealing with his classes and dozing in between after having sent you a brief reassurance that he’d still come in the evening. It was beautiful—glorious, even—until 6 o’clock hit. 

Then, like hell from above, a mass of storm clouds rolled in out of nowhere. The school alert system cited it as an unprecedented phenomenon, and as Leona glares out the window at the torrential downpour beyond, he wonders just how much of it is the fault of Diasomnia’s House warden. It feels like even the slightest of moods sends the man bringing down hail and fury with little regard. His tail twitches in irritation as he lets out another low sigh. 

“What’s the curse that turned that emperor into an animal again?” Your voice causes him to glance at your reflection in the window. He can see that you’re still hunched over the ancient curse’s textbook, your brow set in a furrow as your pen taps steadily against the kitchen table’s surface. “He had to go through a whole life-lesson thing to undo it…”

“He undid it with a counter-poison.” Leona hums as another flash of lightning splits across the sky, briefly brightening the room you’re both in before dying down once more. “He coulda stayed the same and still be able to change back.”

“That defeats the purpose, no?” He hears you setting your pen down and leaning back in your chair as he continues to alternate his gaze between you and the storm above. “If there was a purpose to begin with…” 

“The purpose was his death.” He turns away from the window and finally sinks back down in the seat across from you, his eyes closing and his head tilting back. “His advisor wanted him dead, so she figured cursing him would be a way to do it. Curses like that have been around since magic was still taboo.” 

“Yikes.” Your eloquent reply causes him to scoff as he listens to the sounds of the rain hitting Ramshackle's walls. Despite renovations being done, the acoustics of your dorm are still off-kilter, making him constantly pick up sounds that he shouldn’t be able to hear. 

The scratching of your pen accompanies the rainstorm, and then soon stops as he hears you shuffling around. “... the storm’s getting worse.” 

At that, he does open his eyes again, looking to the window with a frown. It’s pitch black outside, but he can see the relentless onslaught of rain against the windows glass. He pulls out his phone and turns it on; there are two missed messages from Ruggie, a slew of them from the group he has with the other House-wardens—he admits he is curious how many others are questioning Draconia—, and then one from his brother that he deliberately swipes away. 

“Seems like it won’t be letting up tonight.” Leona’s frown deepens as he reads Ruggie's messages. It’s a system that will be hovering over the entire island until mid-morning tomorrow. All students are being advised to shelter in place until it passes. “Shit…” 

“What?” You look up at him, your eyebrows raised. He sets his phone back down and fixes you with an unimpressed look. 

“The school put out a shelter in place notice until the storm ends—no students to leave the place that they’re at right now.” At those words, the lights in the room flicker for a moment before going out entirely, leaving the both of you sitting in complete darkness. 

Leona can still see fine, and he watches (with some amusement) how your eyes go wide in surprise and your breath catches in your throat. 

“Did something hit a line?” You’re quick to rise and peer out the window. Most of the dorms rely on magic to power their electric devices, such as with Ignihyde, but Ramshackle is old enough to still run on original lines. His lips twist into a frown as he remains seated while you gawk out the window in interest. 

“If it did, then there’s no use stressin’. It’ll be restored whenever someone gets around to it—after the storm.”

He personally doesn’t mind sitting in the dark. Granted, Ramshackle still is an ominous dorm to be in—with its ghost infestation and such—but there’s also a sense of peace present that can very easily let him drift off to a nap. If he needs to be on lock down in this place, he doubt’s it’ll bother him too much. 

That is if you let him sleep in the first place.

“I mean I guess we can just light some candles and stick it out?” You look back at him as another flash of lightning breaks across the sky, illuminating your form only briefly. He can still see your eyes are wide in surprise, and your breath is quick—either from the shock of the lights going out, or a fear of the storm toiling outside. 

He checks his phone again and notes that you’ve been going at it for nearly four hours now. He’s never had to pull an all-nighter for a test—lessons come easily to him without effort, after all—and a part of him wonders if that’s what your intent is. If so, he certainly won’t be staying up alongside you. 

“You do that. I’m gonna stake out that couch over there.” He scoffs as he undoes his vest. It won’t be the most comfortable to sleep in uniform, but it’s not like he packed an overnight bag in preparation for your study session. He finishes unbuttoning the vest and stands, stretching upwards for a moment before letting out another sigh. “Try not to drive yourself nuts shoving all this information in there.” 

“Grims lucky he went to Heartslabyul tonight…” you mumble. He watches as you go to the nearby closet to pull out some candles before he maneuvers himself around to lie back on the foyer couch. He can hear you bumping into tables and chairs as you navigate in the darkness before finally the faint, flickering glow of a candle being lit tells him you’ve survived in one piece. His eyes close and he lets himself fall into a state of comfort as he listens to the sounds of papers turning and pens scratching. 

…

But he can’t fall asleep. 

This is both inconvenient and unusual for him. It becomes apparent that, with the power getting knocked out, the furnace in Ramshackle has also broken down, leaving the dorm to gradually become colder and colder with each passing moment. He opens one eye to glare at the ceiling above as he can feel goosebumps rising on his arm. 

“D’you have a spare blanket or something?” He finally asks, sitting up to peer at you from over the edge of the couch. You glance his way, your face bathed in candlelight, before you hum. 

“Mmm, not one that doesn’t smell like mold, no…” you reply slowly. Leona’s expression sours at your comment as you set your pen down and stand up. “One second... I think I have something that might work.” 

As you pick up a candle and vanish to the upper floors of the dorm, he lies back on the couch to stare at the ceiling above. The remaining candles cast odd shadows about the room, and the slow ticking of a nearby grandfather clock proves to be both soothing and anxiety-inducing as the seconds pass by. His tail twitches once more as he listens to the sounds of creaking footsteps coming back down to the foyer. 

“Here.” He feels something soft hit his stomach and he grabs it by reflex. It’s a black hoodie—almost his size. “I won it at one of the school festivals. I don’t wear it often, so it’s clean.” 

Leona stares at it for a long moment. The front has an image of the NRC mascot drawn in a cartoon form while holding the set of keys he often sees on the headmaster’s hip. It feels like something he’d expect Idia to keep stashed in a closet, not you. 

Still, it’s something warm, and with some small grumbles of protest, he pulls it on and tightens the drawstrings. He’s sitting upright on the couch and glaring at the wall when he hears you chuckle to his right. One sharp glance, and he can see you watching him with a cheeky grin from the table, your ancient curses homework still strewn about. 

“You know, you look better in that than I do. All that’s needed is some holes for your ears in the hood, and then you’re golden.” 

“Keep talking.” He threatens in a deadpanned tone, earning a laugh from you as you look back to your homework. You know that he’ll never actually do anything to you—after all, by getting him to agree to come to your dorm in the first place, you already know you’ve won him over to some extent. 

He watches you from over the edge of the couch for a moment longer. The furrow in your brow, the way you tap the pen against your paper in a rhythm, the way you occasionally bite your lip while in thought. He seriously wonders why he agreed to come and help you in the first place. It isn’t like he enjoys school, and he’s certainly never considered helping someone with their schoolwork before. He wants to say it was solely Ruggie’s off-handed comments and deliberate looks, but he can’t shake the image of your distressed expression out of his mind when you asked him. 

Pity. It’s definitely out of pity that he’s shown up tonight. Ruggie just added fuel to the fire, that’s all.

But still, he can’t shake the sense of unease that stirs in his chest as he watches you for a moment longer before lying back down, his hand coming to rest on his abdomen as he did. The hoodie smells vaguely of you, and it does little to alleviate this feeling. He watches the shadows dance across the ceiling and listens to the sound of you working for a moment longer before he finally finds his eyes closing once more. 

It takes him a while, but eventually he falls into the shadows of an uneasy slumber. 

—---

When he opens his eyes, he’s greeted to the sound of a dove cooing. At first his mind doesn’t register where he is, and he feels a sharp sense of adrenaline rushing when he doesn’t see the familiar ceiling of his dorm room above him. Then the memories of last night come back—the power going out, the candles, your off-handed comment about him wearing your clothes—and he feels himself relaxing once more. 

“You snore in your sleep, you know.” 

Leona’s attention snaps to where you sit in the chair across from him. You’re nursing a hot cup of something in your hands as you watch him with a tired smirk. You pulled an all-nighter—he can tell by the slight bloodshot tint in your eyes. “Don’t worry. It’s kind of adorable.” 

“Adorable?” His brow furrows as he sits up, stretching forward and looking towards the nearest window. The sky above is a splash of pink and orange with the coming dawn. He can see the very same dove that he heard sitting on the windowsill, peering in with its beady eyes at the oddly domestic image of you both. “Don’t go annoying me with those kinds of comments so early in the morning.” 

“Sorry. I’ll be sure to reserve my next compliment for the afternoon.” Another cheeky little grin plays on your lips, and he tries to ignore how the sight of it makes that uneasy feeling return. He averts his gaze once more as he shifts to rise from the couch. He’s still wearing your hoodie. 

It feels nice. 

“Did you sleep at all last night?” After he composes himself and becomes fully aware of reality again, he glances at you once more. You sigh and lower your mug with a frown.

“I mean, somewhat? I dozed off at the table a few times, but I was working on getting through four units of text before the afternoon class.” 

“And did you?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “Get through the four units, I mean.” 

“Three. Best I can do.” You chuckle in turn. 

“Which unit did you miss?” 

Your expression becomes one of thought before your eyes light up again. “I couldn’t get to the unit about impacts of curses on modern law. I tried to start it, but as soon as the court transcripts started popping up, my mind just completely tapped out. Legalese is not my strong suit.” 

Leona chuckles slightly at that. He doubts legalese is anyone’s strong suit, save for Azul, who uses it in contracts, or Riddle, who just uses it in general. “And your test for this is…?” 

“This afternoon.” You sigh. “I’ll just take the loss. I’m sure Ace, Deuce, and Grim will be sinking with me, at least.” 

He ruminates on your words for a moment. There’s no denying that you worked your ass off to try and learn as much about ancient curses as possible. He saw the three notebooks of notes that you were skimming through, and the fact that you’re sitting here looking dead on the couch makes that small spark of something start up again. 

Pity. It’s pity, he tells himself. 

“You look pathetic.” He grumbles as he stretches his back. “Tell you what. Lemme get back to Savanaclaw, now that the freak storm is done, and I’ll loan you my notes for that unit. Loan.” 

He emphasizes the last word with a pointed look. Despite how hard you’ve worked so far, he can’t make it too easy for you, no? Your eyes widen again in that comically surprised expression. 

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you begin, but he silences your words with another sharp glance. A small, grateful look then replaces the one of surprise as you sink back into the seat. “... sorry to put you through that, then. I guess I owe you one now.” 

“Well, I’m not gonna hold it over you like some people might.” He sighs. “But I’ll be keeping this sweater for now. I’m not looking to freeze to death before I reach the mirror chamber from here.” 

You nod quickly. “Yeah! Please. Just give it back whenever. Or don’t, you know. I don’t mind.” 

Your words falter awkwardly, and he can’t keep his lips from curling upwards a bit in amusement. “Right. Meet me back at the mirror chamber in thirty, then—and don’t make me wait, herbivore. I have things to do today.” 

Things being spelldrive practice—but he has a feeling you already know that. You grant him a sunny smile, which makes his chest ache once more, before offering a grateful wave. “Sure! Thanks again, Leona.” 

He ignores the way you saying his name gets to him as he shrugs dismissively before moving to the front door. “Don’t mention it. Seriously.” 

[redflagshipwriter]

Reassembly 2

link to first post

Masterpost

(the one where Peter Parker wakes up post-snap in a LoA lazarus experiment)

It was New York City. Peter thanked his blessings and the transportation gods. He didn't wait for the train to stop because he was kind of afraid that it wouldn't and he'd get carried somewhere else.

If he'd been a regular teen, it would have been like, super dangerous to jump off of the top of a moving train and land on cement. Peter rolled like he'd been taught and came up safe. He shook his wrists a little as he straightened and tried to figure out where he was exactly.

Okay. Operation solo hero was a go. Here he was, in NYC. He didn't have any help. But he was Spiderman. Peter tried not to feel discouraged about losing all his tech, his friends, and his mentors. He could remake his web shooters and a suit. He needed access to materials, but he could do it. His first formula had been made in a school lab. 

'But I wasn't homeless and undocumented then.' 

Oof, that felt bad. 

'Can I even keep my name? I can't exactly go to Midtown and tell them to make Peter Parker plural.' 

Yikes. That was a whole lot of yikes.

Well. One problem at a time, right? He needed to get himself into a more stable position for survival first. Now that he knew where he was, he could change his strategy from calling for help to becoming self-sufficient. 

He wasn't exactly sure what to do. The first thing that came to mind was that he needed more clothes. Even if he had liked this outfit, he definitely needed more than one set. This was gross. And honestly? He was kinda cold. And he was increasingly uncomfortable about not wearing underwear.

'I don't have any money and I can't borrow some. I can't steal from anyone. What can I do?' 

Peter racked his brains. Go through the donation bins for a thrift store? That seemed wrong. But … stores throw things away. 

'Department stores get new things all the time. They must be throwing away old clothes. If I check their dumpsters, I bet I'll find something.' 

With a plan in mind, Peter made his way to the closest big store he knew about. Even though he was stranded, at least he was in his city. New York City was way more comforting than Metropolis had been. He navigated by memory to a store he knew called- 

Huh. The store was where he thought it would be, but it had a different name. Peter quietly read it aloud, wondering if this place would have the same bland, safe fashion as where he'd meant to go.

Well. There was only one way to find out, and it wasn't by going inside. They were locked up for the night anyway.

He found the dumpsters. Peter braced himself for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

He didn't feel good about this. He didn't. Not morally- if it had been thrown away, it didn't belong to anyone– but looking at the outside of a dumpster really hammered in the desperation he was in. He was poor. He had nothing and he had no one.

Peter shook that off. "That's not true," he told himself. Hearing a human voice, even his own, helped a bit. "I have a great sense of humor and a positive outlook." 

Still, uh, he was ready for a lifestyle that included underwear. He carefully lifted the lid and rested it against the wall so that it didn't make any noise. Then he hopped up onto the rim and squinted into the bin.

There were big plastic bags full of fabric. His first impulse was to tear them open and look, but he refrained. It would make a mess for the garbage workers. Instead he painstakingly untied the string at the top and opened a bag. Then he pulled clothes out one piece at a time and examined them. 

His heart fell. He'd been right. These were all perfectly good, unused clothes with the tags still on them, so he could even sort by size. But someone had taken scissors to them all before throwing them out. Peter held up a t shirt and squinted at it. It wasn't that bad, really. They hadn't been super thorough. This one had kind of a snip through the middle. 

…it wasn't like he didn't know how to sew.  He'd done lots of repairs that way, and even made a Halloween costume one year. 

If he just stitched that up it would be kinda obviously repaired. That was okay, but Peter dug around until he found another T shirt in a different color. It was hard to tell in the darkness but he was pretty sure it was blue. It had a similar cut. 

"Okay," he planned aloud. "I cut them fully apart, even out the edge, and then sew them together so it looks like being bi colored is a fashion decision." 

He dug around for a couple more shirts, trying to get four different colors that in the daylight he could hopefully mix and match. Then he shoved everything back in that bag and tied it up. He hung his haul over the edge of the dumpster and started opening bags on a hunt for jeans. A pair of jeans and a pair of sweatpants was basically all the wardrobe a teenaged boy needed, anyway.

It took four bags until he found some, and they were too big. But the next bag under that had his size range. These had been snipped too, but Peter huffed a laugh. So what? Lots of jeans had tears in them as a style choice. He dug out two pairs and wiggled into them one after the other to check the fit. It was a relief to have his legs covered. They were kinda long but he was expecting a growth spurt any day now, so that was great. He was pretty sure one was black and one was blue, so that was a good variety.

He wanted underwear and socks. Maybe a heavier coat, if they had one. He searched and searched and came up with nothing. He did find a shoulder-strapped canvas bag that had probably been returned- there was a subtle stain on the inside. Peter would have preferred a backpack, but he shoved the clothes inside the bag anyway. This was a lot better than just walking around holding a handful of fabric. He put the little bag from the guy’s locker inside of it. He still hadn't even looked at what was in it.

Still. He stared mournfully at the clothes. No underwear, really? He was willing to compromise on socks, but underwear and shoes that fit were a big deal. 

"I guess they don't need to seasonally change those so much." Peter sighed to himself. "Wait- no. That can't be right. For socks maybe but shoes? They must throw out a ton of shoes." 

Just not today, apparently. 

Disappointed, he closed the dumpster back up and adjusted his haul over his shoulder. He left without looking back. He was already churning through possible solutions for his outstanding problems. Socks, shoes, underwear, and a sewing kit so that he could use his changes of shirts. 

'Fancy hotels have those little repair kits as part of the free goodies.'

Oh, man. Peter steeled himself for social embarrassment. He was going to have to wander in and out of hotel lobbies by himself, take a repair kit, and leave. 

'Maybe they'll think I'm a guest,' he thought hopefully. 'I don't look that bad. I look kinda like I'm going to school or traveling light.' 

Oh. That was an idea. 

'Lots of hotels have free breakfasts. I could just walk in, eat, and leave. Even if the desk staff thinks I'm probably not a guest, they probably won't say anything.'

It seemed kinda wrong. But it was a buffet. Leftovers were going to get thrown away. And he only had to wait until the morning.

Peter tabled the idea for later. It was going to depend on just how hungry he got. He was already really hungry, if he was honest about it. Whatever bodily numbness he'd gotten from the green jello stank tank had worn off.

'I'm going to get too hungry to manage before too long even if I have a huge breakfast every day. I’m used to running on a lot of calories. What would happen to my ability to be Spiderman if I can’t eat enough?'

He shoved the realistic part of him down and tried not to feel discouraged by his demanding metabolism. 

Focus. The first thing was fixing the clothes. 

'No,' grumbled a mental voice he knew he should recognize. It was coming through a fog of distortion. Shelter is first, Spiderman. Shelter, water, food, and then supplies like clothes.' 

He frowned and rubbed at his temples. He didn't know how to solve that problem. It seemed more practical to address the problems that he knew how to fix first. 

Well. A hotel buffet would probably have drinks as well, but they wouldn't be open for a while. He didn't know what time it was but it was actually night. 

At least he had a tentative plan for it. 

Peter steeled himself for embarrassment and started looking for hotels. The first one he found was too fancy- the amenities weren't placed in the lobby. He walked in and his attention was immediately caught by the soft golden gleam of a bell on the reception desk. It was under a strategic light.

'This one won't be good for breakfast either, there's nowhere for a buffet,' Peter noted. Thankfully, no one was waiting at the desk. He walked back out and realized that would probably be the case for most places at this time of night. 

He felt better going into the next hotel. This one had amenities out, but not a sewing kit. Peter took a toothbrush, two of the packets of wash products, and a cheap razor. Maybe this would be the time his facial hair started to come in and he'd need to shave. 

'I really need a wash,' he noted, not for the first time. 'So bad.' 

The green stuff didn't smell …too bad when dry. It definitely didn't smell as sour as it had tasted. But his skin itched and his hair was crunchy. 

The third hotel was the winner. He had the idea to look for a cheaper hotel aimed at business class travelers. It had free wifi, what was definitely going to be a breakfast buffet from 5:00 am, and it had the sewing kit that he needed. Peter took one gratefully, wondered if it would have enough string, and then took a second kit just in case. 

Okay. Next priority was getting clean. That would double up with getting water- now that he'd thought about it, Peter was thirsty enough to drink shower water from the faucet. 

He looked for a gym. He found a fashionable 24 hour one and dismissed it. Entrance was clearly only by key cards there. He needed someplace older. At least this was his city. He could guess the general area that would have what he wanted. Peter walked around until he found one and wiggled his way up to the third floor, heaved open a window, and went in search of a shower. 

"Good thing I grabbed this," Peter said, stripping all of his clothes and palming one of the tear-open packets of individual soap and shampoo. There was absolutely nothing in the shower in terms of amenities. Gym patrons probably brought their own stuff. 

He took the longest shower of his life, wished he had a washcloth or two, and ended up using both packets of soap to get his body clean enough. Then he hauled his clothes in, all of them, and washed them as best as he could using what was left of the shampoo. He wrung them all out and then put on his new jeans, totally damp. It didn't feel great on his skin. But at least it was clean. For now, he put on one of the black t-shirts. He'd apparently managed to grab two in black, one in red, and one in blue. This t-shirt had a v- shaped cut on the stomach, but he pulled the brown jacket over and zipped it up enough that it didn't show. It was all damp and very weird, but they'd dry quickly on him since he was moving around, right?

When he looked at himself in the mirror, Peter looked like himself. Sure, he was damp and messy haired. But he was clean! He shot himself a thumbs up. 

He left the rest of the clothes hanging to dry and wandered the gym. It was eerie but also really interesting. He'd never spent much time in an actual gym. 

That might be a cool hobby to take up. If nothing else, he could maybe find some classes. 

Oh! A clock. Peter squinted at it in the dark. It was 3:42 AM. It wasn't actually that long until the hotel breakfast bar opened, then. He'd been walking around all night.

'I need a way to tell time on my own. There's not that many clocks in public.'

The first thing that he came back to when he thought of his problems was money. Money, money, money. He needed it. And he needed ID- did the ID come before the money, or the other way around? He needed tech to be Spiderman and to live in general– man, it was weird to be without a phone– so, how? 

His first thought was to go to school and use the laptops there. But he wasn't a student. That would probably freak people out- or worse, draw attention to him. Was it more illegal to exist without documentation, or to be a minor who wasn't in school? 

Peter shuddered. Yeah, no high schools. 

But a public library? That had potential. The computers were always pretty old but they were free to use. 

That was most of an itinerary for the day, then, he realized. It made him feel better to have a plan. He was going to wait a while for his clothes to dry (should he point the blow dryer at them?), and shove them in his bag. He'd go back to the business hotel for breakfast and probably more soap, then go to the library. 

'I need to eat a lot at that buffet.' 

His stomach rumbled in agreement. Oh man, this was kinda bad. He had no idea how to get another meal today. 

Well. He could look into it when he was at the library. 

He ended up turning the blow dryer on his clothes to get them dry. They didn't seem any dryer than they'd been when he wrung them out. That made for a tense hour of pointing the little machine while his arm got tired and he kept jumping at sounds that might be someone coming to open up the gym. 

Stupid, Peter chastised himself. Of course a couple hours in a humid room wasn't enough to dry anything. They'd get moldy first. 

He got them dry enough to fold up and put in his canvas bag, and then he went out by the same window that he'd come in. 

'I hope they don't start locking that. If I don't have a place to stay soon, I'm gonna really need these showers.'

It didn't take him long to get back to the business hotel. It was somewhere between 5 and 6, which meant that the buffet was fully out but not busy. Peter walked in and beelined to the food, trying desperately to look like he belonged.  

Nutritionally, it was pretty good considering the circumstances. Peter grabbed an apple and a banana from the fruit bowl and got a glass of milk as well as orange juice. He wasn't going to get scurvy, at least! 

Glass containers had a selection of baked goods that honestly all just looked okay. He picked out a couple of plain rolls and then something that had walnuts in it. For protein, his options were some queasy looking sausages and a tray of scarily yellow scrambled eggs. He took a generous portion of both and finally started eating.

Whoa. As soon as he'd had a few bites, it was like the dial turned up on his hunger. Peter ate at record speed and caught himself looking back at the buffet.

No one was looking. There was only one other person in the buffet area, a young woman staring grimly into a cup of coffee and using her phone. The receptionist wasn't paying attention at all.

Peter felt worse, somehow, about going back for seconds than he had about coming here in the first place. But he was too hungry for shame. He grabbed two bagels and toasted them at the same time and stuffed his pockets with cream cheese packets. 

'I could take a bit of this with me. A roll or two and maybe a banana? Ugh, it's weird, but the cream cheese has protein in it…' 

He put another couple of packets in his pocket. No one was going to count and realize he was taking two of them out the door. 

While he waited for the bagels to toast he refilled his drinks and added a coffee and an apple juice. He felt ridiculous with four drinks, so he drained the milk and put the empty cup in the clean up bin. 

He filled a second plate of sausages and scrambled eggs (they weren't that bad) and piled the bagels on it as soon as they popped up. 

Once he'd eaten his second serving, Peter felt a lot more human. 

He also felt exhausted. Like, he was beyond tired. 

'I didn't sleep at all so that figures. And I don't have any idea where I can sleep today. So… maybe one more coffee while I wait for the food to give me energy I can use?'

He couldn't quite stand the idea of gulping down all that liquid right then. It seemed like a good time to see what was in the little bag he'd gotten from the probably evil scientist's locker.

'The guy worked somewhere that stores human bodies in rancid green jello. If he's not an evil scientist, it's only because he's an evil janitor or receptionist or something.'

That… It wasn't ideal but it made him feel a little better and a little braver. 

The instant he unzipped the little bag, Peter realized that the guy basically had his whole life in the bag. That included a phone, which was either turned off or dead.

"Whoops," he muttered. He considered turning it on but paused. Would that be safe? He might need it. But what if someone realized it had been stolen and tracked it?

He left it alone for now and looked at the wallet.

The first thing was a Metro City transit card. Peter looked at it and put it back in place. There were a couple more cards- credit or debit, an expired gift card, membership cards to three different pizza places and a gym, and an ID. Peter glanced around guiltily to be sure no one was looking before he checked the name and photo.

Richard DeWitt was blonde, apparently 5ft 10 inches, and 170 lbs. He had a lopsided smile and dead eyes in his photo. Brown eyes. 

DeWitt was 37- no, Peter corrected internally. He grimaced. He was 5 years in the past, so DeWitt was only 32. One of the ID cards was for work, which was a goldmine. Or it could have been, if the company name had been written instead of the initialism LOA.

Better than nothing, at least. He memorized the letters and logo.

The debit and credit cards were no good to him. Peter made a mental note to destroy them later, so that no one else could pull them out of the garbage and use them later. 

He paused for a long moment over the cash. He felt like a spotlight was about to shine down on him and an announcer would call him a thief. But he counted it: 87 dollars. That wasn’t Tony Stark money, but there were a lot of problems it could solve for him.

'The money isn't the same as back home.'

His eye caught on the one dollar bills. He picked them out of the pile to look at them more closely, like an inspection was going to make them change.

Assuming DeWitt didn't have fake currency on him, the US dollar was different.

Peter stopped. He belatedly processed that.

There was no way in a million years that the picture on the dollar had changed in the last five years. It had always been the same guy. 

But here it was, unmistakably a US dollar with a man Peter didn't know printed in the center.

That changed things. 

'I"m not on my earth, unless this is a hallucination. Where else could I be!?' 

He would like to stop having paradigm changing realizations, any day now. 

The only thing that kept him from having a total nervous breakdown was that he was in public. Sort of. There was no one directly looking at him, but that would probably change if he went into the fetal position and started wheezing.

This was bad. This was really, really, bad, actually. 

He needed to go back to the drawing board. For all he knew, there was no Peter Parker here, no Tony Stark, no one he could go to for help.

And the people who had kidnapped him-

Oh, hell. They could be anybody for all he knew. Heck, what if that was a government thing? If they didn’t even have the same presidents, he couldn’t assume this was the same country, in a sense.

‘I need to look into that, as soon as possible. What if I’ve got the universe equivalent of like, HYDRA or something looking for me? That would be a bad surprise.’

He had the address of that building, at least, and the name of an employee. That was something to go off of. 

Peter forced himself to exhale long and slow. He picked up his mess. He didn’t finish going through the guy’s wallet but he didn’t have the nerves for it right now. He stuffed it back into his satchel and left with a nod at the desk clerk. 

He needed information, and that meant the library was even more urgent. It was the only way he knew to access the internet.

The walk wasn’t too bad. His nerves were a knot in his throat as Peter crossed morning traffic on what had to be a weekday, but his memory of NYC didn’t lead him wrong. He bounded up the stone steps to a big library two at a time, shot a queasy smile at the man behind the desk, and ducked his head as he walked in and did a little tour of the place.

There were three floors. The first floor had a dedicated computer lab for students, and long desk with four computers for public use. Near it there was a little table with pitchers of coffee, water, and paper cups with a sign encouraging free usage. There was also a reading corner, a collection of tables for quiet group projects, and rows of media like DVDs. Wow, so old. Peter marveled at that on his way up the stairs. There was a huge papier-maché wolf on the stairwell for unknown reasons. He patted it on the head as he passed. 

The second floor had that intense library smell to it and a lot of signs strictly enforcing absolute quiet. He craned to see tall rows upon rows with labels like science and law, as well as a sign for reserved meeting rooms and bathrooms. The third floor was apparently mostly for group collaboration. Each table had a sign begging people not to bring in outside food and to leave their drinks on the table. Peter glanced over to the only table that had someone at it already, spied her huge coffee cup, and suppressed a snort. He didn’t see anything, but he could smell bacon and eggs. His stomach twisted into a knot.

Still, she didn’t seem to be causing any terrible destruction with her breakfast sandwich. He noted that she had four different colored highlighters next to her notebook, but tore his attention away before he felt like a creeper.

Okay. He had the lay of the land. It made him feel weirdly better. This library was now his base of operations, the center for his information gathering campaign and the subsequent plan… construction …campaign?

He’d workshop a name later. For now, he jogged back down a floor and went to the modern history section. He just read titles for a while, trying to paint a picture of what shared history he could confirm.

He saw lots of familiar country names referenced, and a few of the names that cropped up were familiar as well. The eerie feeling that he wasn’t home just got stronger, though, because there was no reference to half the modern wars and much less on WW1 and 2 than he'd expected. They were shelved in with books about the Justice League. 

Justice League?

There was a whole lot of scholarship on that, whatever it was. Maybe it was like the U.N., Peter guessed. He flipped open a book and flipped pages randomly, scanning for words that stuck out. Ah, nope, there’s a reference to the U.N. So, this was a different thing entirely.

Okay, well. That gave him a starting point of something to look up. 

He went back to the first floor and started a session on one of the public use computers. He had to write the time and his name on a check in sheet. He started to write ‘Peter’ out of force of habit and scrawled to a stop after writing the Pe.

For all he knew, that could be a bad idea. He shouldn’t leave any record that actually led back to him. 

‘...So what else starts with Pe?’

It took him an embarrassingly long time to come up with Peyton. He wrote that down, exhausted and relieved, and then realized he needed a last name too. Oh, heck. He wrote a random letter -K- and then searched his brain for a plausible sounding last name. He came up with Kensington and then sat down, idly wondering if that was actually a name or just like, a place in the U.K. or what.

‘...I only thought of that because it ended in ‘ton’ like Peyton,’ he had the delayed realization. ‘It sounds kinda cheesy together. Fakey.’

Okay. Realistically, no one was ever going to look at that register. So it was fine that he wasn’t good at lying on his feet. He probably needed to sit down and come up with a couple of fake names to use in future.

Well. Maybe he didn’t have to be that creative. He opened a window and searched ‘Tony Stark.’ His heart fell as he scrolled through the results.

Tony Stark didn't exist here.

There had been people with that name, don’t get him wrong. But they weren’t Mr. Stark. There was no Mr. Stark in this universe. He tried looking up current billionaires instead, just in case Mr. Stark had a different name. He flipped through their photos with a sinking heart. That guy was too bald, Mr. Stark would never have a mustache that silly, Mr. Stark wasn't that jacked, no, no, no. 

He tried other names- Happy Hogan, Jamese Rhodey, Virginia Potts (he initially forgot that her name wasn’t really Pepper and ended up on a site for kitchen goods).

The result? No result, more like. Not great.

He tried celebrities. Musicians, actors, philosophers, everyone he could think of. Weirdly, lots of them popped up.

The difference seemed to be around 1940. Historical names came up the way that he would expect them to. But anyone who was modern just didn’t.

Out of extremely morbid curiousity, he googled Anne Frank. He found a semi successful novelist in her 90s who lived in Prague.

Peter put his face in his hands. Okay. Okay, he knew approximately when the universes or whatever had diverged. That was wild.

His hands were shaking. He got up, realized he didn’t have a reason to stand, and then went to pour himself a paper cup of the complimentary water so he didn’t feel like a crazy person. 

This was a whole different world. He couldn't assume that his background knowledge was helpful. 

That made him feel so safe and secure. Thanks, universe. 

[five-rivers]

Pretty in Pink Chapter 2

@jadenoryuu

:)

.

“Just go ask,” said Star.  “He's totally into you.  He'd probably streak through the cafeteria if you asked.”

“Shut up,” said Paulina.  

Valerie looked between Star and Paulina, eyebrows raised.  “Is there something I'm missing here?  You guys have been acting… off… this whole month.  You two and Dash.”

“It's nothing,” said Paulina.  “Star's hallucinating.”  

Star scoffed and crossed her arms.  “Pauli's got a crush.”

Paulina had picked up some freak ghost disease from the Fentons’ stupid underground tunnel, so maybe if she thought hard enough about it, she could set Star on fire with her mind.  Why would she pick that as her cover story?  What the freak?  She had enough trouble holding onto her reputation while falling through walls and getting into fights with dead lunch ladies without people thinking she was crushing on Fenton, who looked even worse than he usually did today.  What if people started to think her type was ‘drowned rat charity case reject?’

Plus, his stupid tunnel had sort of technically killed her.  Wasn't she supposed to hold a grudge about that?

“Glare at me all you want, but it's the only way you'll be getting any sleep.”

“Oooh,” said Valerie.  “You've got it that bad, huh?  What's stopping you?”

“Well,” said Star, the traitor, “she's worried that he's not exactly A-list material, you know?”

“Girl, seriously?” said Valerie, and Paulina could practically feel her popularity points drop.  “You make things A-list.  Anything in your orbit catches some of that glow.  Anyone you like is cool by association.  You could make anyone cool.  Except Nathan Lester.  He must have been cursed by some ancient northern European god in a past life, because yikes.”

“See, I told you so,” said Star.  

“I bet,” said Valerie, “that you could even make Danny Fenton cool.”

Valerie Gray was a literal gift from God.  But Paulina couldn't run with that too quickly.  

“You think so?” she asked.  “Him?  Cool?”

“Only through your powers,” said Valerie.  She sipped at her soda.  “But as far as raw materials go…  He's got good bone structure, at least, underneath all that greasy middle-schooler hair, and he’s scrawny, but with the right outfit you can play that off as slender, he looks like Dash’s been beating the crap out of him, so you’d have to get him to quit that, but that’s the easiest part, probably.  Yeah, you could do it, Paulina.”

“And you can always dump him after, if he doesn’t pan out or is a creep,” said Star.  “We can even plan it out beforehand, so it'll be funny.”

“Well, yeah, of course you're going to dump him for whoever you're actually interested in.  This is just a trial run.”  She popped a chocolate-covered pretzel into her mouth.  “Who are you interested in, by the way?  Weston?  He's pasty, but at least he's good at basketball.”

Disgusting.  It was true Weston wasn't a complete troll, but she had it on good authority that he was a total conspiracy nut, and her papa said conspiracy theories always somehow led back to literal nazis, and that wasn't a good look on someone as pale as Weston.  

“Ew, no.”

“Who, then?  Come on, spill.”

“It's a secret,” said Paulina, winking.  She'd have to make something up eventually, though.  Maybe one of the upperclassmen would do the trick.  Or maybe she could pretend she lost interest.  “But a trial run…  I'll try it out.  But the minute I'm not having fun…”

“We'll be ready with the tar and feathers,” said Valerie, “just like in history class.  Go on.”  She made a shooing motion.  “Work your magic.  Entertain us.”

Paulina stood up and cocked her hips to one side, like a movie star.  “Watch me.”

She walked over to Fenton's table and sat down.  One of his eyes went wide and round.  The other remained a blue and purple slit.  Wow.  Maybe she'd have to ask Dash to ease up, anyway.  

“Hi, Danny,” she said, with her friendliest smile.  

“H-h-hi Pauli–”

“What do you want?” demanded Samantha Manson, hypocrite extraordinaire, looking down her unnaturally pale nose.  Honestly, anyone who caked that much makeup on had to be at least as self-centered as she said Paulina was.  

Paulina sighed heavily.  “Wow, rude, much?”

“Says the girl who bribed the school board to go back to the old, unbalanced, unhealthy, cheap as dirt menu when she brings lunch from home or orders out.”

Well, yeah, she got her dad to lean on the school board a bit.  It was the only way to keep the lunch lady ghost from coming back again.  She’d just kept attacking the school, over and over again, screaming about the stupid menu change.  Manson should be grateful, honestly.  It was her the ghost had it out for.  

But, yeah, the best way to keep the ghost away or not, she wasn’t eating the slop the school served if she had any other choice.  

“Says the girl who is so conceited she made the whole school eat her special menu.”

“Oh, snap,” said Tucker.  Was that drool on his lip?  

Men were dogs.  Seriously.  Ick.  

“Anyway,” she said, turning back to her target.  “Danny.  I can call you Danny, right?”

“Um, it is my name?”

“Right, so, I heard your parents are scientists.  Inventors.”

“Y-yeah.  They– Yeah.”

God.  And people like this wondered why they weren’t popular.  Try and string two words together.  Give her something to work with.  

“And they're investigating that meat monster that kept attacking the school.”

“They are!  They're really, I mean.  That whole thing was, it was pretty bizarre, wasn't it?”

“Yeah.  Sure.  So, I was wondering if you could maybe show me what they do sometime?  Their inventions and stuff?  Maybe this afternoon?”

“I– Well, I don't know, they've been really busy, this month, ever since the portal came on, and– Ow!  Sam!”

“Don't fall for it, Danny, she's just doing the ‘meet me behind the bleachers and then the whole cheer squad will be there to mock you when you show up’ thing, but with more steps.”

“Wow, suspicious much?”

And she might as well be.  April DeLongpre, who had been the middle school cheer captain two years ago, had done exactly that to her, and now the whole school knew Manson was a lesbian.  Except for maybe her two clueless friends.  

She turned her attention back to clueless one and batted her eyelashes.  “Please?  It would make me feel a lot better if I could see what they were doing.  That meat monster was super freaky.”

“I- I guess.  You might not be able to see their lab, though, they've been trying to, um, sort some things out down there.  It isn't really safe.”

Paulina already knew that.  As far as she was concerned, it was a death trap.  Literally.  But Star was right.  She needed something that could actually make ghosts go away, and the Fentons were the only game in town.  Despite what happened with her hands in ‘ghost form,’ her nails weren't made for fighting.  

Whatever.  Once she got there and got him alone, she could pressure him into basically whatever.  His interactions with Dash already showed that he had no spine. 

“Thanks.  I'll see you after school, then?  On the corner?”  That was far enough away from the school proper that at least the bus kids wouldn't see them.  “You have that scooter, right?”  She’d seen him on a skateboard too, but he’d been wiping out at the time, so she doubted it was his ride to school.

“Actually, Jazz has been driving me,” said Danny.  “She started worrying, after, well, you know.”  He shrugged with one shoulder.  “She should be okay with bringing you, too.”

Bleh.  Jazz Fenton.  The girl wasn’t as bad as Danny.  She was pretty, edging into beautiful, and Dash totally had a crush on her.  Still.  She was so preppy and peppy it even put Star off.  She was, like, an alien or something.  

“That’s… cool,” she said.  

“And, um, we carpool with Tucker, too.”

Great.  Well, she could cope with being drooled over for one car ride.  She’d take a cab home.  

“Sounds like a date,” she said, giving Fenton another winning smile.  

“Oh!  Um, yeah!  A- a date!  I’ll see you then, Paulina.”

Gag.  

“See you then.”

Paulina couldn’t scoot off the bench fast enough.  Hopefully Star and Valerie were letting everyone know about ‘the plan’ to seduce and dump Fenton, because, otherwise, her popularity would definitely take a hit.  

.

The car ride was just as agonizing as she’d imagined, with Foley’s staring, Danny’s downright painful, stuttering attempts at flirting, and Jazz trying to psychoanalyze all of them.  As if she could understand any of what Paulina was going through.  

But then Tucker was dropped off and Jazz disappeared into the house, leaving Paulina and Danny standing on the front lawn.  

“Yeah, so, it’s a bit much, but do you want to go in?” asked Danny.  

Paulina gave him a sharp look, and he looked away.  So what if she was a bit hesitant about going somewhere she’d been killed?  That was her business, wasn’t it?

“Yeah, let’s go,” she said. 

Danny nodded and dashed up the steps.  “The living room is just off of here.”

“What about the lab?” she asked.  

“Well, like I said, my parents are pretty busy…”

What, and he didn’t want her to see them?  The whole town knew what they were like.  Annoying.  “It’s just… after everything that happened the past month, I’d just really feel better if I knew there was someone working on things, you know?”

“I…”  Danny was visibly wavering.  

“Please?  Show me the lab?  I’ll be really careful and quiet.  They won’t even know I’m there.”

“I– Okay.  But it’s not their fault, really.  They didn’t mean to make it so things could pass through it.”

“What are you talking about?”

Danny made a face.  “It’s easier to show you.  But first…”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out… a tube of lipstick.  

Huh.  Dash always called Fenton girly, but she’d never seen him wear makeup.  

“This is just a precaution,” he said, holding it out in front of him like it was loaded.  

“The lipstick?” asked Paulina, skeptically.  

“The lipstick laser.  The lipstick tube is just the casing, so you can carry it around.”

Yeah, Paulina would believe that when she saw it.  

Fenton then turned into the kitchen and went straight to the big metal door.  He braced himself before opening it, as if he expected an explosion.  There wasn’t one.  The only noise coming from below was the buzzing hum of the thing.  

Not that Paulina was going to bring that up.  

“Huh,” said Danny.  “I guess they must be out.  Okay.  So, um, if I say to run, then you’ve got to run, okay?”

“What, are you expecting something to explode down there?”  It wasn’t an out-of-nowhere question, based on what she’d seen when they were down here before.  

“Not exactly,” he said.  

He went down the stairs.  Paulina followed.  

It was empty down there.  That’s all Paulina registered before her attention was grabbed by the thing.  It was just as sinister and gaudy as she remembered it.  A goth punk’s dream.  Her nightmare.  

“So, uh, this is the portal.”

“The portal,” she said.  “That’s what it was.”  

“Yeah.  The portal.  The, um, the ghost portal.  That spews ghosts.  Hence the lasers.  They didn’t mean to.  They wanted it to be a window, or something.  Like, they could look at ghosts through it, but they wouldn’t be able to come through?  But the thing turned on in the middle of the night all on its own, without any of their safeguards - not that there were all that many of those - so now it’s more of a door.  To hell, apparently.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you think that meat monster thing came through here?”

“Yeah, probably,” said Danny.  He sounded exhausted.  

“Then why don’t they turn it off?  Jesus.”

“They tried.  Like I said, no safeguards.  It sucks so much to sleep near this.  You wouldn’t believe it.”  He rubbed his eyes.  “I hate this, truly.”

“So, it could keep… doing this?  More could come through?  Have more come through?”  She didn’t have to feign fear at this.  She had plenty of it to spare.  

“Yeah, probably.”

“But your parents are doing something about it, right?  Finding a way to close it, building weapons, that kind of thing?”

“Yeah, they’re building weapons, capture devices, that kind of thing…”

“Do you think… are there any that I could… have?”

“I mean, they’ve got some things for sale… But those aren’t the ones that work, right now.  Some of their theories were off.  Don’t buy the ghost gabber, for all that’s holy.”

“But there are things that work?”

“Yeah, but they’re prototypes.  Design stage stuff.”

“Could I maybe take one of those?”

“One of the prototypes?  Um.  No.  That’s– Those aren’t mine to give away.  Those’re my parents’.”

“Oh, come on, they’re not going to notice!”

“Trust me, the lab might look like a mess, but they’d notice.”

“But what if one of these ghosts comes after me?  Like, your dad’s a big guy, and doesn’t your mom do martial arts?”  That was one of the things he’d mentioned on that car ride.

“I mean, yeah…  But they’ll be really upset if they notice something’s gone.  They work really, really hard on these things.”

“More upset than me, if I run into a ghost?  I’m just asking for something for self defense.”

“I– Okay.  But, um.  But.  I think.  Maybe.  Um.”  He turned bright pink.  “I’m taking a big risk, here.  So maybe.  Maybe you could come to the– the fall dance with me?”

“What.”

“Just the dance!  If you don’t like it, you don’t, um.  You don’t have to go out with me again.  It’s just the dance.  As, like, an exchange of favors.”

“Fine,” said Paulina.  Danny beamed.  “But you’d better give me something good.”  Or else she was doing the ditch at the dance.

“I will!  But self-defense only.  Small stuff.  The bigger guns can seriously hurt people, and can hurt you, too, if you don’t know how to use them.  And you have to practice with all of these.  They’re weapons, not toys.”

It was better than no stuff.  And she could work up to big stuff later.  

Danny pressed the ‘lipstick laser’ into Paulina’s hand.  “Don’t go showing this off.  My parents will kill me if they know I gave it away.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.  Is there, like, anything else?”

“I…”

“Please, Danny, you’re my only hope here.”

“I… fine.  Fine.”  He looked around the room, hands on his hips.  “Okay.”  He strode over to the table and picked up something that looked more like a thermos than anything else.  “I’m only giving you this because they’ve already gotten the second one in production.  This is the Fenton Thermos.  And, yeah, I know, we slap our name on everything, I get it.”

“And it does… what?  Keep your coffee hot?”

“It traps ghosts.  It’s actually pretty cool.  Dad caught these octopus ghost guys with it last week.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!  It was one of the coolest things I’ve seen my dad do, honestly.  So, um.  Practice!  Let me show you how to use a lipstick!  Not that you don’t– I mean, obviously– I mean, a laser.  And a thermos.  Ghost thermos.  You get what I mean.”

“Yeah,” said Paulina.  “Just show me, okay?”