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gilverrwrites · 5 months ago

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Fake Dating tropes with (some of) the birds and the bats. Ft. Babs, Bruce, Dick, Duke, Jason, Kate, and Tim.

GN!Reader, ≈200-250 words each CWs: None graphic mentions of sex, none-graphic injuries, none -graphic mentions of drugs, intentionally minipulative behaviours.🩷

Barbara

The two of you weren’t exactly not dating. Attached at the hip, making goo-goo eyes in person and inappropriate comments over the comms line when apart; it was obvious to anyone with eyes or ears that something was going on there, you just hadn’t put a name on it yet. It’s something the two of you had made plans to nail down and discuss during your sort of but not really a date-date tonight.

But you had only gone and got yourself shot during what should have been a simple trip to the bank. It wasn’t life-threatening, but you’d been rushed off in an ambulance, you’d need surgery, a lot of meds, and months, if not years of physio to get your arms back into shape.

Barbara didn’t know that at the time though, she’d been panic-stricken from the moment she found out. Emotions getting the better of her, brain running at 100 miles a minute as she rushed to the hospital.

“Partners and family only.” The nurse had told her. And without hesitation, she’d responded: “I am their partner.”

Her lie paid off, allowing her access to your bedside, as well as a full update on your status. There wasn’t another face in any universe you would have rather seen upon waking up from surgery. Now you just had to keep up the appearance of being a married couple until you were discharged, maybe longer.

Bruce

It’s a well-organised and thoroughly thought-out publicity stunt. Bruce needed someone new on his playboy roster, and you needed the media to circulate literally anything other than the less-than-flattering leaks that had been sold to them without your consent.

All you had to do was follow the itinerary. A couple of soft launch social media pics, a few whispers to the looser-lipped socialites of your circles, and some ‘private’ candid photo ops of the two of you dating:

Snuggling under the shade of an oak tree in Gotham Park, wearing matching caps and sunglasses that do little to hide your identities as you read a shared copy of Romeo and Juliet together.

Sitting in his car, in the parking lot of Big Belly Burger, munching on an unseemly large order of burgers and fries together. Nobody questions why the previously tinted windows of Bruce’s car are now clear.

Intimately and provocatively embracing, tastefully half nude on the balcony of your uptown apartment. The press didn’t need to know that you’re actually renting an Airbnb for the weekend, for exactly this purpose, and nothing more.

Everything was carefully planned, right down to the T for maximum impact and minimal effort. The only thing that hadn’t been accounted for was one, or both of you catching feelings in the time you’d spent together.

Dick

He’s never been able to say no to you, you know it, he knows it. So when you ask him in an act of desperation to be your fake-boyfriend for your ex’s wedding he’s quick to inform you that this is the dumbest idea he’s ever heard, and that he’s 110% on board.

He takes you shopping for matching outfits, picks you up on the day in Bruce’s flashiest car, suprises you with something pretty, compliments you loudly and romantically at every chance and won’t take his hands off you all the way through the ceremony. He's attentive and outwardly passionate. Not only is he playing the role of the world's best-ever (fake-)boyfriend, he’s making sure everyone in the vicinity knows you’re a (fake) couple.

It’s during the reception when that funny feeling really starts to settle in. The hairs on edge, butterflies in your belly feeling. Maybe it’s the happy, romantic atmosphere, the soppy music, the way his hands sit so perfectly on your hips as he sways you round and around on the dance floor. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you with those mesmeric blue eyes but damn if you don’t want to kiss him, right here, right now.

Duke

It was a stupid idea, and his family would give him so much shit if when they found out, but you’d argued that “we’ll never know if it might actually work unless we try” and that had sold him on giving it a go. Even if he thought about calling it off at every turn.

What was the stupid plan, and why was it necessary? Well, your ex was dating his crush, and you’d figured fake-dating might redirect their attention to the two of you. And if not, no harm done, right?

Big harm done. Over the next few months, Duke and yourself had spent most of your free time in close proximity. Sharing clothes, food, and ‘plan-related’ intimate details about each other. When you weren’t together you were glued to your phone, awaiting his texts, refreshing his socials.

Somewhere amongst all the dinner dates, and ‘strictly-business’ public making out sessions, your plan worked; his crush took notice, how could they not, Duke was perfect.

Your ex did not. Not that you cared, you’d moved on, to someone who was about to become equally as unavailable.

Jason

He was trying to infiltrate an infamous drug ring so he could take it down from the inside and needed someone in the know who could double as arm candy to sell his story. You’d already been trying to get your foot in the door for weeks now, but lacked enough street cred for them to take a chance on you. It only made sense that you would join forces.

For a while it’s fun, hanging off his arm, letting his hands roam your body freely, loud-whispering all the things you wanted to do to him for anyone to hear. You really enjoyed pretending to be his devilish trophy partner. You enjoyed the nights where it wasn’t pretend even more. But all good things must come to an end.

He served his purpose of getting you where you needed to be, but now he was getting a little too close to building a compelling case against the ring, you couldn’t let that happen, you had much bigger plans for it.

What? You’d promised information, not loyalty.

Kate

You’re both socialites with fairly large internet followings who run in the same circles. Your relationship has always been that of friendly acquaintances until a photographer snaps an innocuous photo of you both entering the bathroom at the same time and the media goes crazy.

Despite putting out very clear, separate statements, clarifying that there is nothing going on, your respective followers grab the ball and sprint with it until you both innocently start to play along. Leaving flirty comments on each other selfies, acting appalled when the other is rumoured to be dating someone else, tagging each other in scenic snaps that could be considered romantic: graffiti hearts, colourful sunsets, starry skies from the candlelit table of a wine bar.

It’s completely harmless of course, it’s all a joke, until it’s not. Until you actually find yourself flustered by her comments, really wishing she was sharing your dinners, until you brace yourself and send the first DM.

Tim

He really is the whole package. Handsome, hardworking, dedicated, polite, and as smart as he is rich. You can understand why your grandma was so excited, calling you from across the country to confirm if you were the mystery person spotted out and about with Bruce Wayne’s second youngest. You hadn’t lied when you’d said yes, you’d just neglected to tell her that you were only friends. You figured it would get her off your back about finding a nice boy for a while. It kind of felt nice, talking to somebody other than yourself about your big fat crush on him and in your defence, you hadn’t expected things to escalate so quickly.

One minute she’s bragging about her grandchild’s new boyfriend to the ladies in her swim aerobics class, the next she’s booked a flight to come and visit so she can meet him.

If you’d known what she was planning you would have confessed, but she’d already forked out the cash for her plane ticket so you swallowed your pride and begged Tim to help. He wouldn’t even have to do much, just spend the weekend nodding and smiling at an old woman’s stories and then he could reap the rewards of your eternal gratitude. You’d promised 6 months of undisputed lording it over you and a lifetime of freshly made cold brew.

Smile and nod, that’s all you expect, but apparently, that was too easy. Tim just had to make what was already an embarrassing situation, a million times worse. ‘Perfect grandson-in-law’, your ass.

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dcxdpdabbles · 10 months ago

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Would you ever consider writing out the Alley Boyfriends?

Tim's favorite brand of coffee since childhood- for one could not follow Batman and Robin around without losing some sleep- had always been the Heart Attack Coffee. It was known for its high levels of sugar and caffeine, with the added bonus of being cheap.

Heart Attack Coffee grew from a small family-run booth in Gotham's street market to five stores in Gotham, three in Bludhaven, and even one in Metropolis.

Their menu comprises about sixty percent of various coffees, but there are teas, fruit waters, and even pastries.

They rolled out signature drinks per season, and Tim was always the first one in line when the new menu was revealed. He preferred the winter ones- mainly because they were hot and always had a special kick to his coffee compared to the spring and summer that tended to lean more towards ice dreams like teas or fruit waters.

Tim adored Heart Attack with all his might. He collected their special cups, a book on all the different flavors he tried, and even cried for three hours straight after learning the Heart Attack team had made drinks inspired by the Bats.

He doesn't think he drank anything but the Red Robbin Rush for the three months the promotion ran. Yes, his heart was beating like a hummingbird in his chest the whole time, and he was a bit jitty, but it was worth it.

Then came the terrible day Bruce found out just how much caffeine was inside Heart Attack's coffee. Not enough to shut them down with health violations but enough to worry him.

He forbids the family from Heart Attack, suggesting another cafe that were safer. The thing is, Tim does not drink any other coffee. He tried of course, but unless he was the one that made it, the other coffee never came close!

That was Tim's coffee. His special coffee. He had one every day (that he was in town and not away on a mission) so much so the employees knew him by name and what time he usually showed up.

Sean, the morning cashier at the closest branch to WE, would have an experimental drink prepared for him. Sean would let him test out possible new flavors!

That's how valued he was as a customer.

Don't get him wrong, Tim tried to follow Bruce's mandatory boycott. But by the third day, his headache was killing him, and his hands were starting to get itchy.

Not only that. His whole day just felt off when he skipped out on his morning coffee or his after-work coffee. Tam had caught him re-organizing his office at least five times because his office just didn't feel right anymore. It wasn't balanced.

On the fourth day, he walked into a Heart Attack, and Sean smiled at him. He had a blond expresso Rush halfway made when Tim reached the counter. "Welcome back, Tim."

He placed a fifty in the tip jar grinning at the employee. He took his first sip of the golden nectar and felt his very soul breathe as it settled in his stomach. "Good to be back"

Tim figured that Bruce wouldn't notice because, frankly his adoptive dad wasn't the most observant when it came to Tim's habits. He got away with it for about a month.

Then came the faithful day Bruce reminded him why he was Bartman.

"I'm sorry, Tim, you've been placed on the Do not Serve Coffee list." Sean winces, showing the binder to the stunned CEO.

"I've been banned!?" He chokes, running his eyes over his own face in picture form. "What did I do!?"

"Not banned. You can still order caffeine-free teas or fruit waters." Sean reassures, but it means nothing. His apologies and his explanations mean nothing.

Sean-who he was half sure had been flirting with Tim for months- suddenly meant nothing.

Bruce has bought out Heart Attack was nearest WE in an effort to get Tim to cut back on his coffee intake. The man knew he did not like drinking any other brand, didn't function right without it, and still chose to pull this stunt.

Well, if he thought Tim wouldn't drive ten minutes to the next nearest Heart Attack, he was sorely mistaken. He got up twenty minutes early- and Tim loves to sleep okay. Just because he can't have too much of it with his busy life didn't mean he didn't adore sleep- and drove himself there to make sure he was on time for WE.

The employee gave him the same spiel, holding that dreaded binder. Bruce had also gotten to this branch. But Tim knew that while the branches could be bought out, the name was trademarked, so Bruce couldn't own them all!

He tried the Heart Attack that was thirty minutes away, showing up late to work due to him not planning the traffic for the morning rush, and still did not succeed in getting coffee.

. Then he tried the one that forty minutes, on the complete opposite side of his work, and that one failed too. By this point, a whole week had gone by since he last had a Heart Attack.

Not even on missions did he go this long. He usually bought those take-home packages when he knew the missions were going to be longer than three days at the most. They wouldn't even sell him that anymore!

The packages were just packs of Heart Attack instant coffee. It wasn't even the real deal!

He was feeling withdrawal; his headaches were getting worse, while his body felt slow with fatigue, and he was snapping at everything and everyone.

Just the other day, he yelled at Tam for sneezing. Sneezing.

Thankfully, she can give out as good as she gets. She reminded Tim why she was the one who tended to call all the shots around the office despite what others believed.

His skin was starting to burn, which didn't make sense since caffeine withdrawal did not include itchiness, but he couldn't stop scratching. Tim also hasn't slept in a while because his daily evening routines were all off now that he couldn't have Coco Connect!

He thinks he made all of his executives uneasy with his fidgeting and nasty scowl at the last meeting because he couldn't sit still when all he could think of was Heart Attack.

The last Heart Attack, the one right at the edge of the city, the one that was only a street away from Crime Alley and happened to be a forty-five-minute commute for both Wayne Manor and WE, was his last hope.

Out of all of the branches, this one was the least impressive. It was cramped with only three tables, the walls were painted a dark brown, and the light setting was all low.

It was nothing like the bright and spacious atmosphere of the other branches. It was even squished between two large buildings, the narrow doorway making it hard to even see. Tim was sure Bruce had not found this one yet.

When he pushed the door open, he jumped slightly at the chime from the bells on the door. His anxiety had been climbing to ridiculous levels, he needed his coffee.

At the counter, a boy who looked his age glanced up from his red bulky phone. He quickly slipped it into his pocket, giving Tim a friendly, if slightly bored smile. "Can I help you?"

Tim raced towards him, nearly tripping over his own feet. There was a slight note of deranged desperation in his voice as he responded. "Please, I just want a cup of coffee."

The boy nods, pressing a few buttons on his little cheap register. "What kind would you like?"

Tim's heart swelled with hope. "I want a large Blond Expresso Rush and a-"

The boy stops. He looks up slowly at the time, squinting his eyes as if trying to see into Tim's mind. Then, with a slow movement, he reached under the counter to withdraw a very familiar binder.

Tim's eyes burn with unshed tears as the stranger flips through the binder before stopping on a particular page. "I'm sorry, sir, but you are on the Don't Serve Coffee list. I can offer you some tea instead-"

"NO!" Tim yells, causing the employee to jerk back. He knows he must look like a mess, with tears rolling down his face, but he doesn't care. This was his last chance. He can't make it to the branches in Bludhaven or Metropolis, not daily and certainly not without Bruce noticing. " THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE. BRUCE CAN'T OWN YOU ALL!"

He places his face into his hands and wails. His body is shaking with his sobs, leaning against the counter because he lost all strength to himself up.

The employee stares at him with a strangely understanding expression. "Does this coffee mean that much to you? Is it.... an Obsession for you?"

Tim can only nod because words are hard to push through his cries. The teenager sighs, running a hand through his hair before leaning forward and whispering. "Look, man, I can't give you coffee under the cameras. Meet me in the back alley in twenty minutes, and I'll get you a coffee. Bring Cash."

Tim snaps his head up at once.

"How much? Five hundred, six hundred, or hell, even a thousand? I'll bring whatever you want." He sobbed, knowing he looked sort of pathetic but beyond the point of caring about his dignity.

" Chill, dude, it's a cup of coffee. Three dollars is fine." The other says with a sort of uneasy smile.

"It's not just any coffee! It's my favorite brand, and Bruce bought them out to ensure they wouldn't sell to me anymore!"

The guy holds up his hands. "Okay, okay, this coffee means a lot to you. I get it. Twenty minutes alright?"

Tim stumbles his way outside, reaching for his wallet. He has no cash, but he says an ATM is not too far down the street. He all but runs there and sprints back with a crispy twenties.

He stopped at a local flower store to ask if they would break it for him and was told he needed to buy something first. Not wanting to meet the coffee angel, he picks out a lovely bouquet of lavender roses.

He gets four dollars as his change and races back to the Alley behind Heart Attack. Just in time, too, because the back door opens and out strolls the cashier with a large travel container.

Tim throws the cash and flowers into his hands to rip off the lid and check the inside. It's a Blond Expersso Rush. Even just a sniff has something in him settling. He takes a sip, and all is right with the world for the first time in a while.

"That good?" The boy asks with a slight grin. Tim hums, smiling back as he takes another sip. "I'm glad. Want your flowers back?"

Huh? Oh yeah, he bought those. He shakes his head. "Keep them. Think of it as a thanks for doing this."

"Cool. Never had flowers as a tip before." He jokes, taking a sniff of the roses with a broader grin. "Name's Danny, by the way."

"Tim. Nice to meet you."

"You too."

Tim tips his head back, letting the coffee burn down his throat. It's hot, but that hardly matters. Danny's mouth drops. "Dude, maybe wait for it to not be so hot?"

"I can't." He whines, downing the cup's contents, and only after it's all gone does he realize he forgot to savor it. He throws it over his shoulder in the direction of the trash can. "I don't know when I'll get a chance like this again."

"Don't worry about that. I'll make you more whenever you want. Here, have my number and text me when you're on your way so I can-"

Tim throws himself onto Danny. The other fumbles with the flowers, trying to hold them and Tim simultaneously, but Tim doesn't care. "You are the best person I have ever met! I think I love you!"

The other laughs, patting his hair. "I'm glad. You've been the first to give me flowers, so you're cool, too."

"When do you get off shift? I'll treat you to dinner."

"It's not a big deal, dude."

"I insist!"

"Well if you insist. I just finished, actually. Where do you have in mind?"

Tim leans back to smile at Danny, unaware of the two shadows that leap away from the still-embraced couple. They arrived sometime after Tim finished his cup, unaware he had drunk it since it was lying on the group near the other discarded cups in the trash.

They only saw Tim in the arms of a boy, holding flowers, which represented "Love at First Sight," and the way they heard Tim offer to buy him dinner.

"See B? Tim wasn't buying coffee. He was just meeting his crush!"

"Hmm. Based on what we saw, it's safe to say boyfriend. No one is comfortable with someone unless they have known them for a while."

"I think your right. I wonder when Tim will bring him over to meet the family?"

"Try not to push too much Nightwing. You know T values his privacy."

They both smile at each other knowingly, and even though Bruce suppresses it right away for his Batman persona they don't forget what they saw.

They pretend not to notice every time Tim disappears or that his GPS puts him back in that alley. They'll wait till he's ready to tell them. Besides, the barista seems good to him; Tim is far more energetic and bright these days.

A month goes by like this, where Tim is back to his normal self, no longer needing coffee to be happy. Bruce pats himself ion the back for his plan to help cut him off working so well.

Even though he seems to be texting constantly on his phone.

Neither Dick nor Bruce noticed the narrow eye stare of worry that Jason aimed at Tim whenever he slipped away to meet Danny. He has theories on what is inside those strange containers, but he hasn't gotten close enough to confirm his suspicions yet.

Jason prays he's wrong.

He waits until he knows Tim is gone (he is not. He likes to hide in the cave's shadows to overhear the latest family gossip) before turning to Bruce and Dick.

"Tim's on drugs! I've caught him trading cash for small containers in a shady alley six times. We need an intervention."

Predictably both men freak out.

"What?! I thought that was his boyfriend!" Dick wails, looking over all the pictures of Tim and Danny standing in an alley trading cash, flowers, and containers that Jason took.

"I also thought that was Tim's boyfriend, but if it's a drug dealer, we have to help him," Bruce grunts, eyes hard as he now sees Danny Fenton in a new, less favorable light.

And Tim, who is still hiding in the cave's shadows overhead, can only whisper a heartfelt "shit."

He rips out his phone to text Danny as the rest of the Bats below begin plotting. Thank goodness they don't know what Danny has been giving him exactly. Maybe they can steal Bruce's and Dick's ideas.

Meanwhile, Danny's tiny apartment across the city is starting to appear like a greenhouse with all the flowers Tim has been giving him. His small slip of loving flowers was all Tim needed to hear.

He's taken it as a personal challenge to always have some flowers for Danny as a thank-you for the coffee he made for him.

It was nice. It helped get rid of the boredom his life had developed. He looked forward to Tim's presence. He hadn't had this much fun or clicked as easily with someone since Sam or Tucker.

"Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," Danny grins as his phone dings and Tim's picture flashes on his screen.

If anyone asks you're my secret boyfriend who been making me teas in allies

Danny stares at the screen momentarily, before shrugging and texting back a confirmation. "Who the hell would believe that? But I've had a boring week, so yeah, I'm down to be a pretend boyfriend."

He's never met any of Tim's family, but he doesn't think they will be too hard to fool.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Alley Boyfrinds #Part 1?#Does the chat considered the first part?#misunderstandings #fake relationship #Danny was bored and this guy who looked to be on crack for coffee is funny #Tim was not aware of the flowers meaning. Neither is Danny #Everyone playing chess while Tim is trying to figure out thumb wrestling #Danny is not aware that Tim is a Wayne

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a-b-riddle · 2 months ago

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Runaway Love (kidnapper Price x captive reader)

cw: established kidnapping, violence, intimidation, unplanned pregnancy, miscommunicated threat of forced abortion, eventual Stockholm syndrome, housewife kink. Reader just accepts her situation at this point. Dub-con, non-con.

You couldn't think of anything except the pain that radiated with each step toward your room. You were lucky your work and home were the same place. It was incomprehensible, downright unbelievable how some of the other maids worked their shift and then either walked home or walked to the bus stop.

Granted, most of them weren't pregnant and had shoes that actually fit, but you didn't like to complain. You were lucky to have the job, even if it was back breaking. You had a roof over your head and although the pay was minimal, you were able to buy essentials and save up and with a baby on the way every penny saved counted.

Most importantly, you were free. You were safe and so was the baby. It had been the only reason that after almost a year, you had finally been brave enough to escape. Knowing that it would be hard to rebuild a life from scratch. Knowing that the consequences meant a punishment so severe you could only hope for death.

You had tracked your period religiously. Even with the stress of being held captive by a psycho military Captain, your cycles were fairly normal. So when you were five days off, you knew. In a moment in which you wanted nothing more than to be happy to finally be starting the family you dreamed about having as a little girl, fear enveloped you.

John had never mentioned kids. Only a wife. Someone to be at home waiting for him. Keeping the house in order and his bed warm while he was away.

All I need is you and the boys, Birdie. What more could a man want?

You considered telling him. Hoping that he would be as happy as you wanted to be. Yet anytime you came close to telling him over the next two weeks, horrible thoughts raced through your mind. What if he was angry? What if he blamed you even though he practically took you whenever he pleased? How would he terminate the pregnancy or would he be content in letting you give birth without any medical intervention and simply get rid of the baby after?

Would he just get rid of you altogether?

It was like the universe was telling you to run when shortly after you decided that telling him wasn't the answer, that he told you he was going on a mission. Won't be back for a couple of weeks. Sent the boys to pick up anything you'll need. I know you'll be good for me.

You had been good. For that last six months, you had behaved. Didn't pull away from his touch or put up a fuss. You lived in the epitome of domestic bliss, so John had no reason to send you down to the basement. Not when you had so many opportunities to try to escape and you didn't.

Granted, he had threatened to break your legs during your first and last stunt. You had been in the basement for three weeks. Living in near darkness as he brought all of your meals. You had been upstairs for about twenty minutes and barely made it to the door before he tackled you. Pinning you to the ground, breath hot against the back of your neck as he hissed in your ear. Ungrateful little brat.

Your apologies fell on deaf ears as he hauled you back down where you would stay for six weeks.

For months you built the relationship on a lie. A lie John deluded himself into believing. Anytime he told you he loved you, you repeated the words back. Wanting to scrub your body raw anytime he touched you and hating yourself anytime he made you come.

But it had been worth it. You were four months along, and given your ill-fitted clothes, not really showing, but knowing that in another five months you would be holding the baby you always wanted. A baby that you had went through hell for. Seeing his or her face for the first time, being their mom would be worth it.

You kept all of the lights off. It was a request of the motel owners to reduce their bills. So even if it was early December and you knew you would be walking back to a freezing room, they didn't give a shit. In truth, they were doing you a favor only charging you $400 in rent with unlimited access to their laundry services. You suppose having the pity of others did have its perks.

You hadn't even bothered to turn on the lights before pulling your shoes off your feet and plopping down on the bed. The grit and grim still felt thick on your skin, but you couldn't find the energy to care. You would shower and get on a fresh set of clothes you had gotten from the shelter when you first made it into the city, but for now you needed a moment. Just a few minutes to decompress.

A few minutes turned into five and then ten. Before you knew it, you had been laying in the bed floating in and out of consciousness for almost twenty minutes. You knew you needed to get up. Wash away the grime of the day that had settled on your skin. Your clothes smelling faintly of bleach.

Fuck you were tired.

You were always tired.

You got up and made your way to the bathroom, barely keeping your eyes opened. Not confident enough you would actually be able to take a shower without wanting to lay down in the tub and let all the strain of the day go down the train.

It's funny how the human body can make us teeter on the edge of sleep. We imagine things that may or not be there. But when you heard it, when you heard that voice coming from the corner of you room, you knew you weren't imagining anything.

"Wonderin' when you'd wake up."

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #kidnapping #dark fic #pregnancy

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jalapainio · 3 months ago

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A compilation of my headcanons on each of the public perception of the Batkids:

Dick lives full time in Bludhaven, and is a small-time celebrity there. Every once in a while someone in Blud will be like, “Hey, remember Grayson? Wonder what he’s up to.” And then move on from that. Maybe he’ll get on the news for some sort of stunt (to get someone Nightwing wasn’t able to) or because he was running a gymnastic gym, but more of the “Local gymnast turns out to be the son of Bruce Wayne” fame that disappears in a few days.

Jason is pretty much unknown by the celebrity world as Jason Todd, second son of Bruce Wayne. That being said, Red Hood is well known among the streets, though known for what differs from person to person. Jason rarely stays in Gotham for more than a few months; after this, he and Bruce get into some explosive argument and Jason leaves to cool down.

Tim is one of the more well known celebrities, but only in the Business world. Every CEO in Gotham knows about Tim Drake-Wayne, but other than that, no one really cares about him. That being said, there is a very popular blog or twitter or some kind of social media account that posts wild theories and photos of the various vigilantes in Gotham (secretly run by Tim and Bernard, though no one but Bruce knows about it).

Cass is known only for being unknown. She is the daughter of Bruce Wayne, but never attends any public functions. Every once in a while, she’s spotted at a dance studio or Babs library, and that’s it. Meanwhile, every assassin worth their buck knows that Cassis actually the escaped prisoner of David Cain, trained by him and under the protection of Batman. They all admire Batman’s thinking, placing Cass under the care of the one person who could get Cass a public life, and do their best to not fuck with Cass. As such, any event she is at is never attacked by any type of paid mercenary.

Damian is the most famous of the children of Bruce Wayne, and only because Damian refuses to fall into obscurity. Just like his father, he adapted a personality to use publicly, and it mostly consisted of being a grade-A brat and insulting as many pompous asses as he could without getting scolded. As such, the headlines about “Damian Wayne’s bold statements” run about every other week.

By the time Duke entered the family, the Media paid little attention to another kid joining. However, Duke gets almost as much fame as Damian, and it is not because of an act. Videos of him tearing up his homework in protest, getting into vicious yelling matches with racists folk in malls, or of him judo flipping cops go viral. Bruce sees no problem with this.

Steph and Babs are very glad they don't have to deal with any of this publicity.

#batman #dc comics #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #duke thomas #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #Cass deserves to use her skills in public #And Duke deserves to do what he wants

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just-jordie-things · 6 months ago

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I’m in love with the idea of yuuta being with a reader that has healing abilities

Imagine him coming back from missions with such MINOR injuries and having to go to shoko’s clinic for it, and always asking for you to be the one to look after him 😂

“Yuuta I don’t think you need to have this checked… and don’t you know how to use reversed curse energy too?”

“….no”

Or one time he shows up without any injuries so he has to fake a migraine or something lmaooo that simp would use any chance he could get just to see you

obsessed. lovesick yuuta is so stupid and i love him sm for it <3

yuuta only ever saw shoko in passing, and always away from the infirmary. he admired shoko well enough, and the feeling was mutual (or as mutual as shoko was capable of feeling) but he simply never had a need to visit her for her abilities. having mastered rct not long into his first year as a student yuuta was capable of taking care of his own injuries.

but after a few years, shoko began to notice an uptick in the younger sorcerer's presence in her infirmary. and it was no secret what it was that brought him around.

"okkotsu, back again so soon?" your voice is a sweet coo- it always is when he comes staggering in to present you with yet another injury. you tilt your head and pout t him with worry. meanwhile shoko has to excuse herself for a smoke so she won't vomit from the sickening sweetness.

yuuta never questions shoko's disappearance when he comes around. he's too grateful to have you all to himself.

he's cradling his broken wrist poorly, letting his hand flop outwards at an angle it wasn't meant to be bent. its gruesome, the bone showing and blood staining his white jacket. but the difficult part isn't managing the pain. the difficult part is holding back the natural instinct to fix it himself.

"this looks nasty," you tut, replacing his hand holding the ugly injury with both of your own. you barely examine it for a minute before you're using own technique, and like magic his wrist repaired and his hand is facing the right direction again. "there we go" you give the fix a smile, squeezing his wrist first and then reaching for his hand and prodding your fingers around that too. you tell yourself you're only double checking to be sure everything healed properly.

it takes all of yuuta's efforts not to snatch your hand in his own and hold on tight. he can feel every muscle in his body relaxing as he gazes at you.

"thanks, doc" he says, and just like the last hundred or maybe thousand times he's said it, you smile just a little bit.

"anytime, okkotsu," you tell him, and you mean it, but something about this visit has you questioning him for once. your fingers finally still on his hand, a few wrapped around his own fingers, others pressed into his palm. your pinky stretches out to the inside of his healed yet bloody wrist, hovering against his pulse point. "but... it must be tiring, coming 'round here to get fixed up..." you trail off, catching his eyes even though he was clearly trying to avoid yours. "...when you could just heal yourself"

yuuta's face begins to flush with color and you can't help but squeeze his hand with your delight. did you think he was an idiot for pulling this stunt over and over again for the last few months? maybe... but were you the idiot that watched him waltz in here with every excuse under the sun- from his organs nearly spilling out to a minor headache- who was more than happy to sit and heal him anyways? perhaps...

"...suppose it can be"

yuuta's answer comes closely, and without much explanation to you at all. you only smile at him, dropping one of your hands from his so that when you leaned in closer to him, you could swipe his messy bangs away from his eyes.

"if i didn't know any better, i'd think you were looking for an excuse to come see me" your voice is a whisper, and also the sweetest thing yuuta's ever heard in his life.

"maybe every once in a while..." he admits, and in his mind, your giggle outranks your whispered voice.

"so you think using up all my band-aids for your nicks and paper cuts was necessary?" you tease, tilting your head at him ever so slightly.

"i mean... i'd say mission accomplished" he replies with a grin that could only be described as shit eating.

you roll your eyes at him, but your own smile is nothing short of fond.

"okkotsu yuuta, the next time i see you in here, it better be because you're coming to ask me out properly, and not while you're bleeding all over my floor"

his grin softens as he melts before you.

"noted"

#yuuta brainrot #yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader

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hoovesandfloorpaws · 7 days ago

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🌈 Harry&Louis and rings 🌹🗡

This post by @cosmicleeds from Nov 2022 sent me on a little 2024 Harry&Louis and The Rings deep dive.

Let's start with The One Ring - Harry's Peace Ring.

The Peace Ring was the successor of the (what is long-believed to be) dark silver Promise Ring that Louis gifted Harry on Feb 12th, 2012 in Stockholm. Harry and Louis entered the restaurant without any rings and Harry excited it with this one:

"The first ring that Harry was ever spotted in was a simple dark silver band (which sometimes appeared black) worn on his right middle finger or left index finger [x link leads to a timeline by @bulletprooflarry from 2015, incl. pictures of Harry wearing it on his left index finger].

I always felt that the dark silver band was very personal to Harry and he might have been hesitant to wear it all the time or maybe was not allowed to (just my personal interpretations), because at some award shows, he didn't wear it at all, i.e. The Brit Awards in February 2013. (source)

The dark silver ring made its first appearance on Feb 13, 2012 in Stockholm, after Louis had returned from an extended ski trip with his [...] beard, Eleanor Calder. [It] was spotted constantly for about 14 months while stunting was at its peak, until it was replaced with the Peace Ring [...in April 2013]." - via this article from NoStuntsMagazine from July 2022 + this short timeline post from 2021 by @onlyforthekings

The Peace Ring was first spotted in April 2013 and the simple dark silver band disappeared quickly after. It was always rumoured Louis gave it to Harry during a dinner at a restaurant called Rosso in Manchester, as Louis had tweeted about the restaurant, and Rosso Manchester had tweeted to Harry and Louis multiple times, but to this day it was never confirmed they were actually at that restaurant during that month. Los Angeles Airport on April 27th, 2013 on Harry's right index finger and 2013 and in Paris one day later, on the same finger.

The Dancing Bears Ring Harry got it around mid 2013 and it, too, is a ring tightly linked to the general theme of Gay/Queer Pride since it closely resembles a rainbow bear design by The Grateful Dead. Harry wore that ring pretty consistently up until 2019. (image source)

The Grateful Dead rainbow bears design compared to Harry's ring. It's the exact same! (x)

September 23rd, 2013 in Adelaide, Australia. Harry wearing the Peace Ring and the Bear Ring. (source)

Differently from the dark silver ring in early 2013, Harry did wear his Peace Ring and Bear Ring to award shows, i.e. the American Music Awards in November 2013. (source)

Back to the Peace Ring -- Harry wore that ring (and that ring only!) consistently for 8 years ('till 2021) and since then wore it on tour and special occasions, as well as showing it in his Tour Highlight videos. Meaning: he wears his Peace Ring for over 11 years now.

At the Grammy’s on March 14th, 2021 for the first time since he got it 8 years ago, Harry did not wear his Peace Ring, but a Bird Ring instead. Same at the Brits on May 11th, 2021.

4 months later, "[in] Denver on September 7th, 2021, [was] when he wore the Peace Ring [again]. [...] After that night, another 8 months passed. Finally on May 19th, 2022 the Peace Ring was back [...] during one performance in New York." - all this comes from this awesome post/these timelines with photos, made by @ishipmutualrespect. Definitely check it out, especially about very recent ring sightings.

Lastly, the Peace Ring made an appearance in his IG video recap for the Love On Tour tour 2023, where he shows his rings for a few seconds.

(gif credit, made by @delicatepointofview)

The Turquoise Ring "Harry added the Turquoise Ring in 2014 and wore it consistently for a while until, I believe, it broke. [...] it’s Louis’ birthstone (December birthstone is turquoise) and [...] turquoise is a blue/green stone (and, as you know, blue & green are Larry colours)." - via this post from 2017 by the wonderful @twopoppies "The turquoise Ring [...] is also the birthstone for December— who do we know born in December? Turquoise is also a literal mix of blue and green.." 💙💚 (x)

The Rose Ring Another ring was added to his collection -- one that again is tied to Louis' and his relationship. The Rose Ring that Louis bought for Harry in early 2017 at Dover street market.

"The rose ring popped up [...] in London [...] in March 2017. It also has a caterpillar inside. And Louis probably definitely* bought it for him. There’s also a lot of speculation about this being connected to Harry’s rose tattoo which is, of course, connected to Louis’ dagger tattoo." - (x) *content linked to is unfortunately no longer available

Harry sadly lost his Rose Ring at an Ariana Grande concert in August 2019. There's even a video of him searching for it with a flashlight in the crowd, poor bub 😔 You can hear him saying "I've lost my ring."🥀

(I also read that the H and S Rings that he got afterwards replaced his lost Rose Ring)

The Red Stone Ring "I’ve seen talk about it being Louis’ birthstone (he’s a Capricorn and the Capricorn birthstone is a garnet) and that it’s possibly also another engagement ring." (x)

It's almost important to note that during the 1D era, Harry often obviously messed and fiddled with all these rings that are tied to Louis whenever they were asked about marriage, kids, etc. And he did it very obviously so. I always thought that very meaningful and symbolistic.

This was while Louis said "Sometimes people get engaged for years…” (Harry plays with his Turquoise Ring)

Ring fam is all together 🌈 (RIP Turquoise Ring and Rose Ring, you are missed)

My personal thoughts Harry's bought and got gifted a lot more rings over time, of course; especially after 2018 and I'm sure that, i.e. the Pearl Ring might also be a Louis-ring, but I couldn't find many resources about it. (Feel free to add on to this post everyone!) The mentioned rings are the ones I personally find most significant, because they so clearly tie to Louis' and his relationship and to Harry's sense of self (Dancing Bears Ring as a Pride ring) and he's been wearing them for ages. They're all such Harry Staple rings. I really loved the Rose Ring that Louis got Harry in 2017 🌹🗡, it was so significantly tied to their matching tattoos and was so Harry. Classic, striking, delicately detailed, with big personal meaning referencing their shared history, and with a little secret stashed inside of it. The sad loss of the ring in 2019 could also possibly mean Harry has become more cautious about when to wear certain rings in general. I could imagine that the Turquoise Ring and the Red Ring Harry got himself to remind himself of Louis, but honestly, who knows? These two have always loved to spoil each other right from the start, haha ("Wrapped it myself. It even has a bow on it.")

And in the special case of the Peace Ring -- I never had any doubt that it's an engagement/promise/wedding ring, in whatever sense they wanted it to be. Since later that year, Sep 28th, 2013 became a very significant date to them (a believed-to-be wedding-of-sorts-date, since same sex marriage wasn't yet legal in the UK in 2013) and it's noteworthy that they didn't wear any type of rings right after that date or even got any tattoos. (Louis got his rope/infinity symbol in June 2013, Harry got his rose tattoo in early Sep 2013 and then nothing anymore until he also got his anchor on Jan 11th, 2014, covering up the "I can't change.." tattoo that he got in July 2012. (H&L tattoo timeline until 2018: here)) So I can imagine the Peace Ring had already been a symbol for their strong bond and that symbolism only got strengthened that day. Would I love to know more about that day? Absolutely. Do they owe that information to us? Absolutely not.

In conclusion, I have no doubt that Harry's Peace Ring stood and stands for their commitment to each other; for Harry belonging to Louis. We all know how possessive they were of each other from day 1, probably heavily increased by how much they had to constantly pretend they weren't in love with each other and with someone else instead. Also I find it such a beautiful fact that Harry has been wearing his ring for almost 12 years (in April 2025). I mean, gosh, Louis and him will have their 15th anniversary in 2025. That's huge! :') And I think the ring stands for all that -- for the essence of their relationship; that they are forever each other's ultimate peace, love, and home.

•

RESOURCES 💍 ☮ Harry's Rings tag by @daisiesonafield-blog ☮ A timeline from 2021 of Harry's rings on Twitter ☮ Peace Ring Masterpost/timeline posts by @ishipmutualrespect ☮ extensive Rings on Tour post by @ishipmutualrespect ☮ dedicated tumblr to when the Peace Ring appears: @thepeaceringtimeline ☮ Peace Ring Pride - NoStuntsMagazine from July 2022 ☮ Peace Ring tag by @daisiesonafield-blog ☮ Twitter account for the Peace Ring that is funny and cute

#larry stylinson #harry rings #masterpost #2024 #future husbands #They Are Married #meta #larry #peace ring #rose ring #dancing bears ring #this took 6 hours to put together whoops #mine

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pedritomosquito · 2 years ago

Text

All Choked Up (Ch 1)

MINORS DNI

Summary: You're shooting a fight scene with Pedro that involves choking--you know where this is going.

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!Reader

Word count: ~4.1k

Content: SMUT, Minors DNI Blog, thigh riding, choking, handy, general steaminess

You had been called in for more shooting after working for a month on The Last of Us as various clickers. You were going to be doing another fight scene, but this time as your normal human self. Wardrobe had just finished with you and one of the PA’s was escorting you to set to be approved by Craig and Jeremy. It looked like they were in between takes of a scene with Joel and Ellie. Pedro and Bella were both sitting on set pieces, laughing and sipping at water.

Craig and Jeremy are crowded around a monitor with several other producers watching the latest take. The PA introduces you and suddenly all of them turn around, examining you. Craig greets you.

“Great to see you again! Thank you for joining us.”

You have to hold in a laugh, because ‘thank you for joining us’? As if you wouldn’t have thrown yourself into fucking LA traffic to be here?

“Thank you for having me,” you smile instead.

At the sound of your voice, you see Pedro perk up out of the corner of your eye. You pretend not to notice his gaze.

“This looks great,” Craig approves. “Can I see it without the scarf?”

The PA unties your neck gaiter.

“Yes, perfect,” He nods. “Thank you Jennifer,” He dismisses the PA and sends you on your way, “See you on set!”

Interesting costuming detail for Craig to be so particular about, but whatever. The PA starts to usher you back towards the wardrobe department.

You hear Bella call your name and you turn, giving them a happy wave. Pedro gives you a wave too.

“Tomorrow–You, me?”” You playfully point between him and yourself, “we’re squarin’ up!”

“No way!” Pedro replies, looking dare you say excited to hear the news that you’d be working together.

“See you at rehearsal!” You call as you slip out the door.

—--

The next day you have stunt choreography for the fight scene in the evening. You dress in a cute matching Lululemon knock off set and report to the rehearsal studio on the lot. The three stunt coordinators are there to greet you and you stretch out until Pedro arrives.

He’s in a tight workout t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Not the gray sweatpants dear LORD.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” one of the coordinators teases, “And ten minutes late, no less!”

“Fuck off, Phillip,” Pedro laughs as he approached, “I’m old and I’m tired.”

“That’s your excuse every day,” You prod.

“Well it’s true every day,” Pedro complains.

“Ready to beat the shit out of each other?” You smirk.

His laugh makes your stomach flip flop.

“Absolutely.”

The stunt coordinators demonstrate the choreography first and you have to make sure your jaw doesn’t hit the floor.

Your character stands yielding a prop knife and his character rushes at you, grabbing your arms. You struggle like that for a beat before the knife gets knocked out of your hands. He keeps his grip on one of your arms as he punches you across the face, then shoves you back up against the wall. Both of his hands come up to your neck and you fight against him until you pass out and he drops you on the floor.

You have always been on your best behavior around Pedro. The poor guy has women thirsting after him at every turn and you don’t want to add to his suffering. You have your own private thoughts about him–many of them not PG rated. But you are there to do a job, to be a professional. You never really allow yourself to entertain any of those thoughts beyond simple fantasy.

But he is about to choke you against a wall.

That alone has you entertaining several new thoughts.

“Alright, how do you guys feel about that?” Phillip asks.

Pedro just nods with a small “great.” He does this stuff pretty much every day so you’re sure none of it phases him.

Phillip looks to you and you must be a bit too wide eyed.

“You look a little uncomfortable,” Phillip notes kindly, inviting you to speak.

Pedro’s concerned expression knocks the wind out of you.

“No, no,” You assure them, “It just looks amazing and I’m hoping I wasn’t padding my resume when I said I had stage combat experience.” You give a little giggle to sell it and god bless being an actor because they all buy it.

“No worries, you definitely got this,” Phillip assures you.

Phillip had not been lying–you pick up the sequence just fine. When it comes time to run the fight with Pedro, you are feeling confident about the choreography but not much else. You mark through it, slowly going through each motion to practice.

You’re pretty sure you black out when he slides his hands under your chin. He is slow and careful and he barely even makes contact with your throat but just the idea, the notion that he could so easily, makes your insides scream.

He eyes you closely making sure you are okay. You feel safe. Somehow that makes it even worse.

You go through some notes and run it one more time slowly before kicking it up to full speed.

The intensity of doing it in real time causes an adrenaline storm. Pedro’s hands are all over you, all power and tight gripped. You desperately hold it together so you won't forget what you’re doing.

The way your back hits the padded wall forces the air from your lungs. Before you can even get a breath in, Pedro’s inches away from your face, hands around your neck. Heat spreads across your cheeks all the way down to your chest. You are sure the shock is written all over your face and you swear Pedro’s eyebrows furrow just a fraction. You take the moment of embarrassment as a good cue to drop to the floor out of his grip.

“That looked great!” Phillip approves, “How did that feel?”

You nearly choke on your spit at the question.

“Good,” you manage to squeak.

You catch Pedro side eyeing you and force yourself to look anywhere else. You bend over and fiddle with your shoelace out of sheer desperation to hide your face.

“Yeah,” Pedro echoes, “Good.”

You can hear the smile in his voice and want to leap out the window.

“Alright, let’s go full out this time,” Phillip says, “Add the acting, the drama, I want it all. Let’s take it from the line before so we can get the timing down.”

You and Pedro square up, getting into position.

“I’m not going down easy,” You play with a quirked eyebrow.

“Bring it,” He challenges.

You both slip into character and you raise your knife.

—-

“Great work, guys!” Phillip chimes, “See you on set tomorrow.”

“You drive here?” Pedro’s voice appears next to you.

“Yep,” You reply, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and pushing open the door. The cool night air glides a chill down your arms.

“Let me walk you to your car,” He offers, “ I just need to grab my stuff.”

“Oh, okay, yeah, that’d be—that’d be great,” You stumble over the words with a smile.

It’s a short walk to his trailer

“What’s been your favorite project you’ve worked on?” He asks.

“I always thought it couldn’t get any better than Mandalorian but honestly I think this show might be my new favorite.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, everything on this show feels so… real. Mando was all soundstages and green screens. Last of Us really feels like we’ve been dropped into an apocalypse,” You explain before cautiously adding, “And I’ve gotten to work with you a lot more.”

“You like working with me, huh?” Pedro asks as he playfully bumps his shoulder into yours, the shadow of a teasing tone in his voice.

You can’t find words for a moment, pausing with your mouth parted. You might as well put all your cards on the table. “Yes,” you finally reply with a small laugh, “I do.”

You can safely toe the boundary of friendship here. You figure he wouldn’t read into it if he wasn’t interested.

Wait. Are you interested? Oh fuck. Of course you’re interested.

Pedro pauses for a fraction of a moment as you arrive at the trailer, looking at you. Before you can say anything, he pulls open the door and holds it for you. You climb inside and he brushes past you as he enters.

“When you showed up here on set,” He says, “I was really happy to see you again.” He sits down on the cream colored loveseat.

So he isn’t just ‘grabbing his stuff’ after all, you guess.

You join him, trying to remember how to sit like a normal human being.

“I thought you were lying when you said you remembered me,” you reply honestly.

“God no,” Pedro chuckles. His gaze on you intensifies, flitting down your body for a moment, his voice dropping a bit lower. “Couldn’t forget you if I tried, sweetheart.”

You suck in a quiet breath. Your mind begins to swim in the suddenly thickening air. How has he managed to make himself so clear in just a single uttered sentence?

He seems to search your face. You realize he’s looking for reciprocation . This isn’t the time to toe the limit at all–it’s the time to cross the line entirely.

The line between colleagues is drawn for good reason, you try to remind yourself. But all logic dissolves in the simmering heat of how he watches you from the other end of the couch.

Fuck the line. What line? Never heard of one.

You switch on a new part of yourself, cocking your head.

“You aren’t too forgettable yourself,” You reply with a soft smirk, making sure to regard every inch of him.

That is all it takes from him to start closing the gap between you, stopping just inches away. He reaches out and slides your bag off your shoulder in slow motion. You stay frozen as it thuds to the floor. The way his eyes never leave you makes your breathing pick up.

“You can leave right now, I won’t hold it against you,” He says quietly, “We can go back to before and I will never try this again.”

You can’t imagine a worse fate. You shake your head desperately.

“Tell me you want this,” he says, eyes glued to yours.

“I want you ,” You whisper.

His lips easily find yours as you feel a hand lace into your hair and another around your waist. The softness of his lips makes you forget to set yourself into motion, too busy melting into it. You finally remember to reach for him, placing a hand on his chest and the other on the side of his neck. You splay your fingers over his bare skin, brushing a thumb against the stubble on his jaw.

His fingers graze over your scalp as he gently grips a handful of your hair. It makes your jaw fall open and he takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth. You grab a fistful of his shirt to pull him closer.

His hand travels up the center of your chest, curving over your collarbone and back down your side.

He is either being a tease or far too respectful.

You take his wrist and guide him to the bottom hem of your tank top, sliding his hand underneath until his fingers come to the elastic of your sports bra. You pull the spandex up out of the way.

His fingertips skate lightly over the bare skin before he cups you, rolling your nipple between his fingers.

You whine against his mouth, arching into his touch. Your head tips back and he kisses down your neck before returning to your mouth. His lips become more insistent, the pressure of his hands roaming your body more firm. You shift to pull your leg up under you on the couch, needing to get closer to him. He untangles his hand from your hair and does you one better, reaching down, grabbing your ass and pulling you into his lap until he has you hovering over him, his knee between yours.

You pull off your tank top and your sports bra.

“Fucking gorgeous,” Pedro murmurs breathlessly as he attaches his mouth to your nipple.

“Fuck,” The word punches out of you and your hands fly into his hair. His mouth is all heat, tongue working in circles and flicks. You imagine his face between your legs doing the same and you shudder at the mere thought.

He grabs your hips and speaks against the skin of your chest.

“Sit.”

He pulls you down firmly onto his thigh.

“Good girl.”

A gasp helplessly escapes your lips and he has you all figured out. He fails to suppress a smirk and you have half the mind to admonish him, but any attempt is interrupted by his mouth returning to your tit.

He guides your hips to grind against him. The feeling of your wet leggings sliding over his sweatpants drags against your clit just right. You whimper against his temple. He tugs your hips forward again as he flexes his thigh into you and your whimper becomes open mouthed, a moan buried in his hair.

Your hips start to roll on their own accord, chasing down the friction.

“That’s it,” He says softly, licking up your chest, “Make yourself feel good, pretty girl.”

You let out a stilted sigh, dropping your head and sucking the skin beneath his jaw. You reach your hand down and press over the crotch of his sweats. You inhale sharply when you feel him already hard underneath your palm.

“You know how hard it was to control myself, hm?” He questions, voice strained as he pushes himself up against your hand, “Keeping everyone from seeing how much I loved having you pinned up against that wall?”

“ God , that was good acting,” you moan.

“Yours needs some work,” he taunts, “‘Could see it all over your face, querida. Bet you were wet for me, weren’t you?”

“Whole time,” you nod desperately.

He drags his fingers up your chest and wraps his hand around your throat.

“Oh fuck,” tumbles from your mouth.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart? My hand wrapped around your throat like this?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “Fuck, keep talking,” you beg, moving faster in his lap.

“You like the sound of my voice, huh?” He prods, “Like it when I tell you how good you are while you fuck yourself on my thigh?”

You only nod with a whine, reaching under his waistband and taking his cock in your hand. You nearly whine again when you feel how thick he is.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hand tightening just a bit around your throat.

The squeak he receives from you in response is equal parts innocent and filthy.

He uses his free hand to shove his pants and boxers down his hips, exposing his cock in your fist.

You pump him slowly, watching the precum leak from his slit. You release him, pausing your own movement to dip your hand into your panties. You slide two fingers into yourself, gathering your wetness, and return to his length.

“Jesus Christ,” he swears, his words trapped in the back of his throat as you wrap your slick hand around him. His hand tightens on your neck and he thrusts up into your hand, jolting you back into your own rhythm.

Your free hand is slipped under the neckline of his shirt, placed on his chest to steady yourself. The skin there is firm and radiating heat. You can feel his heart beating as fast as yours against your palm.

“You gonna cum like this?” He asks, “Such a needy girl, making a mess on my thigh?”

“Yes, fuck, yes, god yes,” you babble. You’d say yes to practically anything he could ask of you right now, anything to stay in this moment.

Every word he speaks, every shift in his touch drives your fist around him faster.

“ Fuck you feel so good,” He says through gritted teeth, hand now trailing down your throat, curling his fingers to skim his nails over your delicate skin, “Doing so good for me.”

“Please, please, Pedro–” you blindly plead.

He squeezes his hand, tightening the grip on your neck. It’s hardly enough to affect your breathing, but it fuels the tension growing in your hips all the same. Your motions begin to stutter.

“That’s it, querida,” He hums, “That’s it.”

“I’m gonna–” your stutter, “I’m gonna cum.”

He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and every bit of air deserts your lungs.

“I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

Pure heat sparks and sets you ablaze, flames rolling down your body as you cum, cries forced from you.

“ Good girl , there it is. That’s a good girl,” He grinds out the words, pushing himself harder up into your fist. “Fuck, that’s it, fuck ,” A strangled noise catches in his throat, stripes of white painting your hand and his shirt as you ride out your high.

You lean forward to collapse against him, pressing your head to his shoulder, and you both try to catch your breath. He wraps his arms around you, fingers absently tracing over you back.

“Thank you,” you sigh.

“ Thank you ?” He nearly giggles, “Jesus Christ, all I did was sit here!”

“Then you’re welcome,” you breathe, “Like, very, incredibly, definitely welcome literally any time.”

His laughter bounces against your chest.

“Don’t go making offers that are too good to be true, now,” he warns, and you can feel his grin against the side of your neck, “I can’t take the heartbreak.”

So you’re not the only one who wants this to be more than a one time thing. Fuck yeah.

“Any. Time.” You repeat, whispering in his ear.

——-

Coco is setting up her station next to Stephanie and Jess for the afternoon. The hair and make up department is an integral part of The Last of Us because of the extensive clicker-fication process. Coco always jokes with Pedro that she has the easiest job out of everyone–make a man, who is already gorgeous, gorgeous. Not much to do there, just upkeep on Pedro’s gray hair and ensuring he’s grimy enough for an apocalypse.

You walk into the room bundled in a scarf and find Jess’s chair, greeting her. You had never met before and you were a little nervous. Coco, on the other hand, you’d talked to a few times.

“Okay, so, I might have screwed up a little ,” You admit to Jess, immediately piquing the curiosity of the women around you. You were about to make Jess’s job a bit harder.

“Oh?” Jess says.

“So, um, I get uh–strangled, in the scene we’re shooting today so there’s going to be a lot of focus on… my neck…” You preface hesitantly.

Coco whirls around.

“You didn’t,” She gasps, scandalized.

You grimace apologetically as you unwrap your scarf.

“I did.”

There’s no way they could possibly know that Pedro put the hickey blooming dark purple on your throat unless they’re mind readers, but still. You’re paranoid that somehow everyone will know what you did last night with Pedro.

Could see it all over your face, querida.

“You have girl bossed too close to the sun,” Coco shakes her head while Jess and Stephanie giggle.

You cover your face with your hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jess laughs, “You’re hardly the first actor to need some hickey cover up. Happens all the time–we’ll get you fixed up.”

Jess does an excellent job as promised and your neck looks pristine.

You thank her endlessly and slip out the door to go to wardrobe.

Just a moment later, Pedro speeds into hair and make-up, greeting Coco and plopping down in her chair.

“I need a bruise covered up,” he says simply.

“How’d you hurt yourself this time, old man?” Coco asks.

“Uh, it’s not exactly that kind of bruise,” he replies sheepishly. He pulls down the turtle neck he’s wearing, revealing the hickeys he’s sporting up his neck.

Coco, Stephanie and Jess all exchange a look. Stephanie is desperately trying to suppress a smirk and Jess has to turn away to contain herself.

You and Pedro are none the wiser that you’re totally busted.

“ Pedro ,” Coco scolds him playfully.

“I know, I know,” he sighs.

“Pass me that concealer, Jess?” Coco asks, “We’d better get started. This might take a while since someone decided to sell his body last night.”

“Oh shut up,” Pedro waved her off with a bashful chuckle, “Vete a la chingada.”

“Pedge, I’m immune to your spanish insults. I don’t speak Spanish.”

“Allow me to translate: fuck. off.”

“Never.”

—————-

You're sitting on the sidelines of the set, absently going over your script and blocking.

“Hello you,” a low voice rings next to you.

A smile climbs onto your lips and you keep your attention on the pages.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you chime.

“Come here often?”

You giggle, finally looking up at him, but your breath is stolen. God , he looked so good as Joel.

“Querida, your face,” he chuckles, “we talked about this.”

You pause for a moment and realize what he’s implying. You must be blushing. Or drooling.

“I have no idea how I have an acting career,” you murmur.

He’s laughing and you can’t help but be reminded of a ray of light. He’s like a bright beam, reflected and refracted into a spectrum of color, streaking boldly across a sunlit room. Maybe you didn’t understand how someone could be ‘beaming’ until now.

He looks like he almost starts to reach out to touch you, maybe tuck a stray hair behind your ear or place a hand on your waist, but he aborts the movement.

Phillip approaches you and you break from your trance.

“Hey guys!” He greets, “how about a quick dry run fight before shooting?”

“Sounds good,” Pedro nods as you agree.

Someone from the props department appears with your fake knife and you thank them.

You do a slow motion run through, making sure the spacing and blocking is perfected for the set pieces around you.

The full speed run is just as intense as the first time you had tried it the night before. You’re panting on the floor by the end, and Pedro extends a hand to help you to your feet. You look up at him from underneath the fan of your lashes and he stares down at you all the same.

“Alright you definitely have the choreography down!” Phillip sings his praises and declares you both ready for filming.

“We’re going to start shooting in just a minute here,” Craig informs the room.

Jess is there, coming over to touch up your make up one last time and the guy from props reappears, returning the discarded knife back to you.

“You and Pedro have us sharing the good setting powder,” Jess laughs to herself, taking some onto her brush before Coco steals the container with a smile as she passes by.

It hits you all at once.

You left hickeys all over Pedro last night, didn’t you? You look over and see Coco brushing the powder over the side of his throat.

“ Jess, ” Your eyes are blown wide.

She pauses, regarding you with confusion for a moment until the realization appears on her face.

“Oh! Don’t worry, we’ll never tell. Makeup artists take an oath of secrecy,” She explains. “ However ,” She adds, “I am living vicariously through you. Just full transparency.”

“Fair,” you reply a bit distantly, still watching Pedro.

—-

Coco goes over to Pedro and starts on her final touch ups.

“You know,” she says quietly after a moment, “The weirdest thing happened earlier.”

“Yeah?” Pedro asks, suspicious of her playful tone.

“Yeah,” she replies, “A minute before you came in asking us to cover up your hickeys, your scene partner came in needing the same thing.”

“That is… quite a coincidence…” He agreed slowly.

“I’m glad one of us had sexcapades last night,” she assured him, “all I did was watch tv.”

“Please never say ‘sexcapade’ ever again,” Pedro muttered.

“Look, if you’re going for subtlety–tone it down,” She advises, “You look like you’re about to jump each other’s bones, not kill each other.”

“Fuck, it’s that obvious?” He asks.

She just replies with raised eyebrows and a smirk. “But–hey,” she says sincerely, “Good for you, Pedge. You deserve it.”

“Stop–” He swats her away with an embarrassed smile, “Making me blush. Joel doesn’t blush.”

“Go get ‘em tiger,” She pats him on the back before leaving.

A/N: Tell me what you liked most! I wanna know what my beloved slutty lil readers enjoy!

Chapter 2

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #hbo the last of us #pedro pascal smut #fanfiction #tlou

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romanoffsbish · 2 years ago

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Clandestine Meetings

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Prompts / Request

“Go and lock the door for me. I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.”

“Go get one of your toys. Let’s make this even better.”

“Is that gonna fit?” “I’ll make it fit.”

Warnings: Jealousy, Emotionally Stunted Natasha

Smut: Natasha has a penis, Daddy(N), Detka/Whore(R), Nipple Clamps, Vibrating Egg, Oral(R), Unprotected Sex/Breeding, Choking, Edging/Teasing, Orgasm Denial.

18+ | Minors DNI

"I want love Nat, you just want a quick fuck."

The words you whispered to her over a month ago have been bouncing around her mind the entire time, plaguing her very soul. It got to the point where while away on her mission she couldn't even focus on the objective anymore.

Who were you to just come to a conclusion like that without so much as a conversation?

——

Not a, "Nat, we need to talk," or a "I'm not sure we want the same things Nat, correct me if I'm wrong here," and she would've corrected you. Because you were so far off base, all Natasha wanted was to love you, she just didn't know how to do that outside of worshipping you in deeply passionate moments that usually ended just as fast as they began, and left you alone.

Now here you lay on the compounds couch in your sleep shorts, a sight the redhead would love to see every morning in her own room. Waking up beside you would be a dream new experience, potentially challenging, but she knows that she'd grow to love the situation.

Natasha already loved you—desperately so.

The only obstacle here had been her inability to make her loving intentions clear to you. She'd always been a bit more on the vulgar side, and you seemed into it for awhile, but one random night you shoved her away and that was just it.

As soon as she figured herself out, she was going to make things right with you. But there was apparently a new obstacle, because right now your head was settled into another's lap. Carol was listening to you ramble on while mindlessly stroking your cheek. Natasha envied the blonde's ability to offer such an intimate moment without any real effort.

When she saw how much the woman enjoyed your presence she felt her heart shattering into tiny, jagged pieces. With her jaw clenched she rushed out of the kitchen and went straight to her room where she allowed a stray tear to fall. Then she reached for her phone, and sent you a text message: Meet me in my room in 5 !

Carol smiled down at you knowingly when she heard the ding of your phone, "I told you to go after her Y/N, she didn't seem very pleased."

"Yeah, and I don't give a fuck," you huffed, arms crossing over your chest, and the blonde cackled wildly at the sign of faux indifference before she returned to a more serious state.

"Y/N, ever since she's been gone all you've done is mope around this place, but oh look, the day she's back you suddenly appear before me with a sunny disposition and expect me not to see right through it? Answer her text and maybe even go get laid, you're insufferable."

"Carol," you groaned, hands flying to your face to hide the mortification in your eyes at the brutal call out, "She doesn't want me," you pouted, "at least not in the way I want her to."

"Did she say that?" Carol asks while lazily drawing circles on your shoulder to calm you.

"She didn't have to say it out loud..."

"Oh Y/N," she tilted your head so you would be facing her, she caressed your cheek then spoke, "Natasha isn't exactly known for expressing her feelings in ways that make sense, so how about you put your big girl pants on, and force her to say the words she couldn't manage to before."

You huffed while glaring up at her, knowing she was right, but in the same breath you snatched your phone up, and read the message while rolling your eyes, a bitter chuckle leaving you as you saw the song that happened to have been softly playing at the time of arrival.

After a moment of soul searching you took off to her bedroom in a frenzied ball of nerves. Entering her space felt both comfortingly familiar, and extremely uneasy. Seeing her sat on the bed in sweats with her legs manspread, leaning back on her exposed muscular arms as she wore a cami without a bra you felt your body tingle with need, and your mouth go dry.

With a sly smirk, and a crook of her finger you made your way further into the room, but she left you to be blanketed in an awkward silence. It was clear she didn't actually expect you to be here, and now that you were she was weighing out her options, but just like usual, she was not able to articulate the right words like: I missed you, I love you, or please, don't leave again...

"Go and lock the door for me. I don't want anyone to walk in while I'm balls deep," the redhead commanded dryly, and though the thought of her inside you alone nearly brought you to your knees, you rolled your eyes instead and went to hurriedly walk away again.

Natasha ran after you, catching you by the wrist to prevent you from leaving, "Y/N, stop doing this okay," she pinched the bridge of her nose, and softly sighed, "I don't know how to do all of this, vulnerability isn't my strong suit, okay? Just let me show you instead..."

You furrowed your brows, and she sighed exasperatedly, "Give me a chance, please."

Saying no to her would be in vain, because it was all you wanted to finally be beneath her, so you nodded without really much hesitation.

Natasha leaned in to kiss you, the first time in your whole arrangement that she'd done it with any semblance of care present. Normally it's all teeth clashing, and tongues sloppily gliding over the other while she brought you to bliss.

Up until now Natasha has only ever offered you quick moments, with only her hands or mouth diligently bringing you over that glorious edge. Never had she actually shown you tenderness, but more importantly, she had yet to fuck you with the bulge poking you through her pants.

Natasha wasn't ready to give you all of her, it was actually something she'd never done with another person that she loved before. She's screwed girls before, usually as a means to an end, with their faces smushed into a mattress, but she couldn't bring herself to do it with you. No matter how desperate she was for release after hearing and seeing you come undone for her, or how prettily you'd beg to help her out each time, she just couldn't cross that line.

But now, she knew it was all she could do to make sure you understand, that you feel her in every sense possible, and feel her love for you.

"Na-Natasha," breathlessly you stuttered out her name as your hips reflexively canted into hers, "I need you daddy, please, fill me up."

Natasha groaned, pulling away from your lips she smirked devilishly, you could see the flicker of mischief in her gaze as she leaned down to suck a mark onto your smooth skin, "Go get one of your toys. Let's make this even better."

The knob twisted in her hands this time, she watched in amusement as you scurried across the hall to your room in your mussed up state.

"Look at how desperate you already are detka," she slammed you back into the door as soon as you crossed the threshold, the door slammed close with the impact and you moaned weakly.

Surveying the items in your hands she softly chuckled, "Oh, you're in for it now Y/N, gonna give you all of me so you can finally understand what my true intentions with you are."

This time when she kissed you it was with a bit of urgency, her hands contrastingly gripped your hips softly, and without ever breaking the kiss she walked your body over to the mattress. Natasha lowered you down gently, and as she rose back up she collected the nipple clamps and the vibrating bullet from your hands.

"May I?" Natasha gestured to your body, and you smiled gratefully, no matter how quickly she usually took you, she'd always been keen on hearing consent. "Please, do it already."

The sleep clothes were quickly discarded, and her lips latched onto your risen buds instantly. Her tongue rolled around your nipple slowly, causing your breath to shallow as you were overrun with pleasurable anticipation. After a moment she released your nipple with a pop, giving you only seconds to adjust to the chill on your wetted skin before she attached a clamp.

Natasha caught your hand before it could mindlessly tug the clamp off, "It's okay detka," she shushed you softly, tenderly smiling down at you as she slid her fingers between yours, "You're okay," she gently brushed her lips over your knuckles before laying your interlocked hands on top of the mattress. A whimper left you as you were overrun with a overdue sense of comfort from her, then you were moaning when her lips returned to your heated skin.

"I'm going to ruin you Y/N," she growled around your other nipple before she bit into the hypersensitive skin, "No one will ever touch you again after I leave a mark on what's mine."

"Say it," she growled as she hovered over you, but before you could even try she was clamping your sore bud, effectively making you wince.

"Oh shit," you gasped when she gave the chain a harsh tugging to ensure it was properly attached, the accompanying pain was dizzying.

"I asked you to say something," she leered over you, hand now wrapped around your throat in a way that not only intimidated you but left you absolutely dripping onto her expensive sheets.

Natasha watched your brainless eyes searching for a response, it took you a minute, but you were finally about to open your mouth, but all that came out was a lewd moan as she pressed the vibrating egg into your slicked up cunt.

"Come on now detka, you know I don't like to be made to wait," she tightened her hand around your throat, something that only ever adds to your pleasure, and she knew that, it was honestly her favorite, slowly draining the life from you as she brought your body to euphoria, only to spare you in the last second.

She was a bit of a sadist. You didn't mind...

Something about that control was exhilarating, seeing your eyes grow hazier with every second as you harshly choked never failed to make her cock twitch. Maybe it was the underlying way in which you trusted her to never go too far, it had her overwhelmed with unwavering joy.

After allowing you a moment of pure bliss she deemed it enough, so she tore it away from you, ripping the vibe out of you and watching in amusement as your eyes filled with tears, and your lip was now caught between your teeth, "Daddy no, please, I-I was so close."

Your whimpering always affected her greatly, she gets off to the memory of you begging all the time, so it's no surprise to her that her cock was painfully straining against her boxers.

"Whores that forgot how to speak don't get to cum!" Natasha spat, the underlying tone full of pain telling you she meant more than in this moment, your constant distancing hurt her.

"Natty," you tried to apologize, but she only grew angrier, her hand harshly gripped your face, and she hovered over you with a furious gaze, you hated to admit it but it sent a pang of arousal down to your already dripping cunt, "That's not my fucking name slut, try again."

"Daddy," you whimpered, and she softened momentarily as she leaned in to kiss your lips, "Better, but I no longer want to hear you, so lets shut that pretty brain of yours off," she pecked your lips once more before her lips trailed down your body in quick succession.

The sound of buzzing as she now faced your cunt left you with widened eyes, this new dynamic was throwing you off honestly. So used to a quick release this newfound joy of hers spurring from teasing you was alarming. You began to wonder if the loveless sex was better, but deep down you knew it wasn't, especially when she edged you so deliciously.

Natasha held the vibe just out of reach of your clit, a test of sorts that she wanted you to fail. "Daddy's gonna get a taste now detka," she murmured against the lush skin of your thighs as she moved to further mark her territory.

After minutes of torture, where she barely swiveled the egg over your bundle of nerves you finally caved and canted your hips up. Natasha bit harshly into your thigh, blaming you for moving as she moved to hover over your face, "There's a time and a place for your pleasure, and this isn't it, now stay still Y/N!"

"Sorry daddy," you sniffled wetly, drawing her back out of her lust driven haze, and the sight of you so broken was honestly picturesque, it brought a lopsided smirk to her plump lips.

Natasha usually moved only to please you, but in this moment, she wanted you desperate. So needy, hopelessly dependent upon her touch, this way you'll never look for anyone else again. Looking into your eyes now she saw that was already your truth, you were so lost in the pleasure that she was hardly giving, "It's okay detka, you know daddy will take care of you."

Natasha kissed you until you were breathless, then when you were reduced to a heaving mess she returned to your thighs, she placed a few soft kisses there before finally diving into you.

With the vibrator pressed firmly into your clit, and her tongue deep inside you it was all you could do to make a mess of her face, a scream of pleasure echoed off her walls, and Natasha pulled back with an accomplished smile. The sight of her as your slick was dripping down her chin made your body shiver, that unraveled coil started to retighten, and your hazy eyes slammed shut as you tried to calm down.

Natasha teasingly rutted her hips into yours, you could feel her straining against her boxers when she stilled, and you couldn't help but to squirm when she made no move to fuck you.

Natasha chuckled as she felt your desperation, she softly continued to push her sizable bulge down against your slit, the irritating fabric separating your sexes actually brought you a slice of pleasure when it grazed over your clit. It would never be enough though, your hips began to jerk up to meet hers, desperation fueling you, and Natasha could feel it wholly.

She truly loved teasing you, feeling the way your aromatic slick soaked through her boxers, it only became too much for her once you were whining pitifully in her ear, making her twitch without reprieve, so without much warning she jumped up, leaving you to cry at the loss of friction, but the protests died on your tongue when you saw her dick spring free, it was huge.

"Is that gonna fit?" you visibly gulped, wide eyes watching as the tip of her cock hit her abdomen as she slowly sauntered over to you with an obnoxiously hot smirk overtaking her face as she hovered over you, "I'll make it fit."

Her lips pressed to yours, instinctually yours parted, Natasha's tongue slid into your mouth as her tip pushed passed your entrance, and you latched onto her tongue as you moaned. A shiver ran down the redheads spine when your walls simultaneously squeezed her thick shaft making it near impossible for her to fill you up.

The way that your warmth enveloped her cock made her fearful that she'd bust without even thrusting as she bottomed out, "Fuck, you feel so good Y/N, you're taking me so well detka."

Her hand sought yours out for grounding, and when you felt her interlock her fingers with yours again your eyes fluttered open to see her deepened green pair staring back into yours. The eye contact was intense, and arousing, but incredibly hard to keep when you felt her begin to thrust slowly, and relatively deeply into you.

"Keep em open," Natasha panted, your eyes slowly fluttered back open, fighting against the insurmountable pleasure, "Wanna see you."

It was a struggle, but you somehow managed to keep your eyes partially open for the ferocious women pounding into you with strong hips. The brutal pace she set was building you up quick, you never knew how much you needed her until now, she felt too good, the way she stretched you out left you gasping, and with every thrust her bulbous tip drove you wild.

With her hand in yours, and eyes locked you were overwhelmed by a love you were truly convinced didn't exist. The one that pulsed inside you the closer she got to her release, the love she needed verbally reciprocated to finish, "Say it detka," Natasha whispered breathlessly just as she twitched inside of you, "Please..."

"I'm yours Nat," you dopily confirmed with an amused tone, the moment was however short lived as a scream was torn from your throat, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as she let go inside of you, hot spurts of white filled your womb to the brim, and your body trembled without reprieve. "I-I need you Y/N, please don't leave me again, I'll do better..."

"Nat," you managed to squeak out her name in between your pants, "If you don't run, I won't."

"I'll never run again detka," she pressed her lips to your cheek, then trailed them down until she was resting in the crook of your neck, "I promise, we'll learn how to love together."

"Oh, I know how to love," you teased with a deliberate clenching of your walls, "Shit Y/N."

You flipped your positions before she could even recover, harshly grinding down against her as you did, did the trick when you could feel the way her cock hardened once more.

"It's my turn to show you," you winked, and the redhead smirked, a long drawn out sigh leaving her lips as you began to grind down into her.

———

3,075 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 😏

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff pov #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #gxg #black widow #black widow smut

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pinespinespinespinespines · 20 days ago

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Part 3 continuation of the Fiddlestan au i was babbling about in part 1 +2: this post

the Stan visits Fidds [and Ford] at Backupsmore AU:

And so, Stanley is once again on the road, up to his usual shenanigans, yet there was one difference between his last departure from Backupsmore college and this one: Fiddleford, upon Stan's reappearance from the first runaway stunt, gave him his dormitory's mailing address on a sticky note. Stan almost threw it away multiple times, but couldn't bring himself to.

Two months pass before Fiddleford checks his mailbox to find an envelope without a return address. It's a letter from Stanley, who tells him that he won't be returning, and apologizing again for bothering them. The handwriting was messy and the paper wrinkled, making Fidds wonder if he was drunk writing it. He's also troubled by the fact that this was likely sent from a public mailbox, implying Stan was still homeless. Without an address to send a reply to, Fiddleford is left quietly stuffing the letter in a drawer.

Ford was tense with Fidds for a while after the Stan incident, but eventually accepts it as his roommate just being too friendly as usual. He feels kind of bad about punching his brother, but he also justifies it in his mind and focuses on classes instead. Three more months pass, and the pair of college boys finish for the summer, but neither are going home because they're in the last half of their first PhD degree- just because classes are on break doesn't mean they don't have their massive thesis projects to work on. However, the temporarily lessened workload gives Ford more time for his thoughts to wander, and he grows more guilty about Stan as time passes.

Stanley sends another short letter to Fidds later that fall, telling him that he's alive and doing fine, because "you always worry too damn much and I don't want that on my conscious" He also adds a blank postcard from New Orleans. Fiddleford puts those in the drawer too, telling himself that hes keeping them for Ford some day when he's not so messed up over his brother.

Fidds misses hanging out with Stanley, but he's also a pretty social guy- he has friends, goes to parties, has his classwork, and generally keeps busy and is just fine, if not a bit worried over his roommates sibling when he occasionally comes to mind.

After a college party one night, (one that Fiddleford actually convinced Ford to attend!) the boys return drunk to their room and for some reason, Ford admits that he was probably wrong to punch Stan. "Probably??" and Fiddleford tells him that's great and all, but if you want to tell him that, it's not going to be easy, then shows Ford the letter Stan had sent months ago that says he's not returning. Ford drunkenly cries, and Fiddleford comforts him, but the next morning Ford denies the entire thing. (Although keeps the letter and postcard).

At this point, Stan is starting to try out a multi-level marketing scam, which goes sour because he tricked a whole conference of people into signing up to buy 20 knives each. In hindsight, he should have picked something less dangerous to sell, but what's done is done- he's alive, mostly unscathed, and skipping that town with suitcases of cash. Before running off, Stan told the angry people that their money had already been sent to his boss. If any of those people find the truth and decide to come after him, he was toast.

If only he could drop off the multiple cases of cash across the country somewhere safe, so that he could lay low for a while somewhere without having to worry about them being stolen back if he was caught.

He really should've thrown away that sticky note ages ago.

Fiddleford gets the letter right as winter ends, asking him to meet Stanley behind a nearby gas station corner store at a certain date and time- an evening only days away. Relieved to see the letter and assuming the new meet-up spot was so that Ford wouldn't bump into or see him, Fidds does as the letter asks.

He's not happy, to say the least, when Stanley sheepishly begins asking if Fiddleford can keep a few of his things stored for a couple of months, and those "things" end up being multiple suitcases that Stan doesn't want him to open.

Fidds tells Stan that he will only consider keeping the luggage for him if he knows what's inside, and Stan relents, desperate. Fidds' jaw drops at the thousands of dollars that must be stuffed into those bags. Stan tells him he can have some of it for himself if he helps out with this, and Fiddleford immediately drags Stan into his car so that he can yell at him without attracting attention.

Stan tries to argue that he earned this money legally and gradually, and that he just doesn't want to travel with this much cash on him when he doesn't have a place to live that isn't his car. Fiddleford isn't sure whether to believe him, and Stan withers at his hesitation, realizing that he might be ruining the one good connection he still has to his brother.

Instead of answering, Fiddleford keeps scolding Stan about finding a place to live and taking care of himself, because he knows that as long as he hasn't actually taken the money from him, he won't run away.

And this gives Fiddleford an idea.

"I will keep yer money for you, on one condition."

"Whats that?" Stan asks nervously.

"Buy a lease for an apartment here in town with some of that cash, and then I will take the rest from you and store it in my dorm. Unless you want to keep it in your new place."

Stan tries to negotiate- Take the money now, and I'll buy the apartment tomorrow- but it doesn't work, Fiddleford doesn't trust him and rightfully so.

And so Stanley thinks through his two options: leave now without giving Fidds the money, and continue running away on his own with thousands in cash in the trunk - or - buy an apartment lease near Backupsmore and face the consequences of all his money going down the drain in rent and bill payments if he can't find a steady job.

Which he's almost never been able to do. Stan's about to open his mouth and tell him goodbye when Fiddleford speaks again.

"Ford regrets hitting you."

A brief pause. "...He does?"

"He does. He told me."

After a few seconds of blinking at Fidds in disbelief, Stan takes a shaky breath.

"Okay... Yeah. Yeah, I'll look for a place tomorrow."

#WHAT AM I even doing at this point??#its just a straight up fanfic now #idc im not adding another big art/writing project to the ones im already doin #this is staying a series of silly thoughts for an au that i just like to babble about #fiddlestan #gravity falls #au babbling

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