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dcxdpdabbles · 11 hours ago

Note

Do you think you might update the Adopted Son Au soon, maybe ?🤔 i just can't with that cliffhanger, i need to know what happened next.

Plz

Dick trying to figure out how he is going to escape from his cell when the door opens again. This time, it's not Drake but a group of children who walk in without saying a word.

They surround him, and Dick prepares himself for some torture when one of them presses a button on a controller, releasing him from the retrains, keeping him trapped in the chair.

The metal slides off his wrists and ankles, allowing him to flip up from his seat and away from the group. He wobbles a little, having gone a few weeks without much exercise or movement due to his bad mental state.

He can still take them to the ground, but he won't be at his best, which irks him fiercely. It will also make this fight a lot more dangerous. Surprisingly, the children don't react to his flip or fighting stance.

They stare at him with blank expressions, the single light swinging back and forth as Dick had anciently hit the edge of it with his hip. Four of them are cramped into the surprisingly small room, but none look like they are there for a fight.

Dick frowns. "What's going on?"

" You didn't have Danny, "the oldest one, the boy the Parkers had apparently been taking in, says. "We have no reason to keep you."

"What, you going to let me go? Just like that?" The disbelief drips from his words as he tightens his fist, searching for the surprise attack that will surely come.

"Just like that." The boy agrees, clapping his hands. A little girl throws a bag at Dick, who catches it in an instant. The thing is heavy, but it doesn't feel like a weapon. The teenager claps again, and suddenly, the ground underneath him vanishes.

Dick is free-falling before he knows what's happening. The rush of the wind nearly drowns out his screaming as he tumbles downwards. He watches the apparent cargo plan hangar close as the children stare at his descent.

Twisting around and trying to get his wits about him, Dick realizes he doesn't have a lot of time to figure out what to do because he is far above the ground. He will not survive hitting it. The bag in hand beeps before it springs open.

Wire cords warp around his torso, yanking him to the side so the bag can rest on his back. Another beep goes through before a loud whoosh can be heard, and Dick's body jerks again as a parachute bursts to life from the bag.

He gasps as it catches the wind once it fully opens, stopping his free fall into a gentle flouting. Dick's heart is hammering away in his chest, even when he starts the breathing exercises Bruce taught him to keep calm. He glances up at the plane, but it shimmers out of sight once a clocking device is activated.

He can only guess which direction it ran away in. It must be one of Crowne's inventions.

A few minutes go by when he falls some clouds- and it stings to feel the water bit dig into his skin.- before he finally realizes where he is. Drake had him thrown right over Wayne Manor. The little shit.

Carefully testing the turning cords, Dick realizes that they are much simpler to drive and directions his landing towards the ground behind the Manor. He is nearly there when a flash of red races out of the window, aiming right for him.

"Dick!" Kori shouts, wrapping her arms around him. He sighed gratefully and said she was mindful of the parachute. His friend tucks him into her arms, one hand under his knees, the other on his upper back, and flies him safely back down. "You're okay! We were so worried when you vanished."

"How long was I gone?"

"Just one day. What happened?"

Wow, Drake doesn't mess around. It was alarming that he could not only take him from his own room but return him without any of the Bats being the wiser. "Let's get everyone grouped up. This is going to need some explanations."

The two fly through the same window Kori was excited about. The minute Dick's feet touch the floor, the bag beeps and unclips, yanking the fabric up his parachute back into the little bag as it slides off his shoulders.

Crowne would be so excited that it works so smoothly. He thinks almost wistfully.

"Dick!" Jason yells, racing forward to throw his arms around Dick's middle. Not far behind, Damian joins them though he seems more willing to hold onto Jason rather than Dick.

"Hey guys." He mutters, bending down to hug back. "Sorry about the scare."

"Dick," Bruce's baritone voice has him snapping his head up. There, he realizes his family and the teen titans are all sitting around a conference table, papers scattered in front of the relieved people. A large screen was sitting behind Bruce, displaying the latest news in the Crowne trial. "What happened?"

Dick takes a deep breath, locks everything that man him, the fun circus child, in a tight box inside his chest. When he opens his eyes again, all that's left is Nightwing.

"Let me tell you," And he does

A while later, Dick learns that while no one had known where he had gone, they had all been able to find enough proof that Dick was taken. It had left everyone in great unease, especially Bruce, who had always been proud of the Manor's defenses.

They were in the middle of discussing Timothy Drake's new danger level when the noise of the reporting news anchor cut off mid-sentence. The image changes from a business street of Gotham's police headquarters, where Daniel Crowne is said to be held, to a dark room with a person wearing a glowing green skull mask.

The person is sitting at a table, the angle getting them from the chest up. They wear a hood that does not hide their black wavy hair, curling around their ears. As the camera focuses, the figure plays with a piece of it.

Everyone at the table tenses up as the person speaks. They use some voice modifier that disrupts the words, making it sound robotic -it's hard to tell whether it's a boy or a girl. The body shape, however, points to them being young. "People of Gotham. I have taken control of this and every screen within the city to speak to you about Daniel Crowne. Many of you have cheered the last few days over his imprisonment, unaware of the hero he was. Tonight, I wish to enlighten you. Watch and repent."

"Where is this broadcasting from?" Bruece demands at once. Babs is already tapping away on her Crowne laptop, attempting to track down the signal.

"I don't know. It's bouncing from all over the city." She huffs.

On the screen, the stranger continues. Dick thinks he knows who that is. He recognizes the mindless habit of playing with the hair near the right side of his neck. "That's Drake."

At his words, everyone tenses even further.

"It's true Crowne broke the law. He took it into his own hands when CPS failed to protect the children they claimed they worked for, much like a specific group of Bats." Drake continues, tapping one finger on the surface of his table. "Unlike them, Crowne kept a record of everything he's done. I will present it all to you."

The screen changes to show documents, videos of abuse victims, and some testimony of missing children. For an hour, every screen showcases everything Daniel Crowne has done since he appeared from his adoption. The Waynes and the Titians are left in awe by the sheer amount of evidence that showcases.....Crowne saving children.

Dick legs give out under him some time around the proof of the Foster system failing children and how Crowne had personally swooped in to save them. None of it is legal, but no one cares.

Not when Heather Gobb's case is shown that she has been locked up in juvie for years for being a poor orphan. Not when her neighbors' old video of them pleading with the public to find information on her is shown, as they had thought she had gone missing five years ago and were still looking for her today.

Not when Max Smith- the same one that released him- case of being a human traffic victim was rescued and given to the Parkers. The Parkers had been rejected five times as foster parents due to their age. But the Martinez another case shown here- was even after three different girls reported sexual assault.

Every contact. Every move. Every single street kid is given a home. All of it was shown here, even the way he did it. Daniel Crowne was a hero.

"No," Dick gasps, watching the proof of Danny secretly busting trafficking rings and helping the victims find their way home. He had worked on one of those cases. Cindy, a fifteen-year-old girl, had been secretly rescued when a tip came through. Among her bags was a map of the rest of the cages that she claimed she had never before seen.

Crowne- Danny- had planted it.

The tears are rolling down his face, blurring everything in sight, but Dick can't look away. His chest feels like it's caving in as memory after memory plays behind his eyes.

Memories of the man he betrayed.

Drake, in his eerie glowing skull costume, returns. "That was who Daniel Crowne was. I speak in the past tense because his body had been discovered earlier today. He was found stuffed into a waste bin near Gotham's dump. A funeral will be held for the public in a week within Gotham Park at this same time, open casket, and he will be buried with honor somewhere no one can reach him. It will be the only time to say goodbye."

Dick feels like his world has shattered. The room starts to spin; multiple people are speaking, but he can barely hear them over the roaring in his ears.

He can only see Drake's green glow as the boy continues. "Lastly, I have a message for Officer Lucas Black of the 99th. We know what you did, and as much as I want to end you, he wouldn't have wanted that. Instead we will send you a gift. She was found in the last ring Crowne managed to track down. Protect her well this time. And never forgive yourself for what you did to her savior."

The screen cuts. Dick turns to the side, throwing up until nothing but acid comes out. His friends and family gather around him, trying their best to offer him comfort, but they can do nothing.

Danny is dead. He's gone, and he never even knew it was Dick that helped kill him.

_________________________________________________________

Life is a blur, worse than when he had Danny arrested. Dick isn't even sure he's alive. Bruce and the rest of the police have managed to verify all of the presented evidence. Crowne had legally kidnapped children, but no one could claim him a monster.

It was like the city was collectively drowning in guilt and mourning. Not even the rest of the Rouges dared to cause trouble. For the first time in centuries, Gotham was experiencing a cease-fire, and peace fell upon the civilians.

It hadn't stopped raining since Danny's death, almost as if Gotham herself was sobbing for the loss.

Dick had never felt this empty before, not even at the lost of his parents. He had nothing, no one to be angry at as Drake had covered every track of Danny's killer.

A single letter with a glowing green ghost circled around the familiar D arrived at Wayne Manor the day following the broadcast. All it read was You will never find out who took him. Remember him for the life he lived and not the violence he suffered.

Bruce was working non-stop to bring Danny's killer to justice, but there was even less to go on than the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

Somehow, he finds himself getting dressed for Daniel Crowne's funeral. Jason and Damian help him walk out of his room, wearing black, and into the car. Bruce is riding in the passenger seat while Alfred is driving.

They had forgone the expensive vehicles and instead rode in a small black car. This was not an event that needed a showy entrance.

The drive is long and silent. Pity and pain make him almost choke, as none of the other four seem to know what to say. They only glance at him, looking torn up.

Bruce is the worst. He likely blames himself for the whole honey pot plot, and Dick wants to blame him, wants to lash out and rage against his father, but he can't.

He had agreed to the plan. Dick had been the one who went to Danny's office, the one who held him and spoke to him. The one that stole kisses and whispered sweet nothings.

The one that falls in love with the person he destroyed.

Dick stares out the window, wishing he was sobbing like he had been just a few days ago. He wishes he could feel the headache of dehydration from all the tears he cried. Anything other than this numbing pain that rests on his chest and keeps him from feeling anything.

His eyes have remained dry since he heard the news of Danny's passing. What kind of monster did that make him?

"Dick..." Bruce tries, but his words fall short. With a start, the first Robin realizes they are at the park. The car had been parked, and everyone was outside waiting for him.

He unclips his belt, stepping out and ignoring the hand Bruce offers him. All of Gotham has come for Daniel Crowne. There are so many marching by in black clothing. Some are sobbing, others are whispering, but all Dick sees is a sea of strangers that once cheered for his death.

Who are you? He thinks as his family walks into the park. Did any of you even know him?

A nasty voice sneers in his mind. Did you know him, Grayson?

Jason's warm palm slides into Dick's, helping him to the front where some seats had been put aside for those that were personally saved by Danny. Drake wanted them front and center; he had sent a message with a confused Sparrow.

Damian now seemed to regret presenting the letter as he held Jason with getting Dick to sit.

The coffin was surrounded by flower arrangements and shoes—the ones from the people he had saved. Some adult sizes were mixed in, but the majority were of children—it didn't seem real.

None of this does.

But Danny is gone, and Dick can not cry.

Next to the Waynes sits Officer Black, who is sobbing so hard it sounds like his chest is being cut apart. His sister is holding him, crying into his shoulder and whispering assurances.

The Ghosts- a new group that has risen in place of Crowne's fall- had delivered her home mere minutes after the Broadcast. She had received free treatment in one of Crowne Corp's hospitals outside of Gotham. She, along with seventeen other victims, had been personally reduced by Daniel Crowne only a month before.

Dick was happy for them. After years of being apart, the Blacks were finally whole once more.

Phantom- the head of Ghosts- walks up to a podium. His glowing green skull mask hides his expression from the crowd, but Dick can see how hard it is for Drake to stand there and speak.

"Gotham is no stranger to tragedy. We live with grief and joy. We dine with hope and sorrow. We walk with fate and death. In the five years since his arrival, Daniel Crowne had done everything he could to protect Gotham without asking for anything in return. He was deeply devoted to those he loved, and though not religious, he believed in Gotham." Drake says, addressing the crowd. "He found the flame of hope in the darkness of Gotham's streets. He stood tall when others lay broken by her crushing weight, bearing the burden of her attention. His mind illuminated that darkness, his heart warmed those in the cold wind, and with every fiber of his being, Danny fought for the betterment of mankind. His inventions saved thousands and have carved history with a chisel of his own making. We say goodbye to our cherished brother, friend, and noble son stolen from us far too soon. Remember him for the life he lived and not the violence he suffered. Daniel Crowne may no longer be able to walk with us, but his spark will forever live within us."

Drake pauses, turns to the coffin, and places a flower inside of it. "May you find the peace you were searching for, Brother."

Dick bows his head feeling tears gather in his eyes, but none spill over as Drake encourages everyone to pray in whatever belief they hold and allows people to go up to offer their own flowers, stones, or gifts. His line is the first to go up, but he can't move. His legs feel like lead, shaking his head when Bruce whispers his name.

Officer Black passes him, clutching his sister's hand as they walk to Danny's coffin. To his body. It's odd.

Danny is of that wooden stature, but nothing is in it—it's just a box. Officer Black placed his badge inside, whispering that he was leaving the force. Dick is close enough that he can hear his sister adding a ring that Danny had given her when he visited her during her recovery and wonders how bright Danny's smile might have been to see the siblings together again.

The funeral continued, with a long queue of people wishing to say their final goodbyes. Dick sat through the whole thing, aware of time passing but not entirely sure what was happening around him.

All too soon and not fast enough, the service ends. The Phantom claps his hands. A significant plane shifts into view, and its cloaking device falls. It lowers a platform as some Ghosts carefully lift the coffin.

The pallbearers march onto the plane's platform as a haunting melody bleeds into the air. With a start, Dick realizes it's an instrumental cover of their song, the one Danny and he used to dance and sing to. Danny had been playing it the day they were unpacking his home before Dick had found the journals that same night.

Drake really wants him to suffer, doesn't he?

No one speaks as the group rises into the air, taking with them Daniel Crowne. The plane vanishes from sight once more, and slowly, everyone tickles home. Gotham's rain—absent for the funeral—returns just as the Waynes manage to get into their car.

The drive home was even shorter than the one to the event. His family tries to speak to him, but Dick hears nothing. He merely walks up to his room and crashes on his bed.

Exhaustion, one deeper than his very bones, drags him under. He's out before Bruce can find the courage to enter his room.

_________________________________________________________

He's not sure if it's a dream or not, but the next thing Dick knows, he's blinking his eyes open to a soft white glow. His eyes are drawn to the bottom of his bed, where a figure sits on its edge, hunched over and staring at its hands.

His breath caught in his throat, causing the person to turn towards him. He looked different. His green eyes were glowing like a light was lit behind his eyeballs. His hair was snowy white, and his body seemed nearly transparent, but there was no denying who it was.

"Danny" The name is spoken like a gospel.

The love of his life smiles at him in that same adoring way. It feels like a slap and a hug all in one. "Hello Darling"

He stares, unsure of what to do, until he blurts, "You're dead."

Danny throws his head back in a familiar, impish laugh. It's the one, only Dick, had been privy to, as his boyfriend had always been so regal laughing loudly seemed to be against his very image.

Danny crawls from the bottom of the bed, still laughing, until he lays right next to Dick, who can't stop staring at him. Once he settled, the two were mere inches away, staring into each other's eyes as if they could drink each other's features.

"Yes," Danny's voice is soft as freshly fallen snow. "I'm dead. I never thought about that happening. A part of me always hoped I wouldn't form a complete ghost when my time would come. It's rather silly when you consider Dan."

"Ghost?"

Glowing green eyes soften just a bit as a cold- never will it be warm again- hand wraps around his own. Dick can hardly believe he can feel the hold as he continues to stare. "Yes, Darling, I'm a ghost."

"I'm sorry," He whispers, and then a sorrow overcomes him. Dick feels his eyes water faster than anything this past week. Silent tears rolled down his face as he choked, "I'm so fucking sorry."

"Oh, Darling." Danny comes, reaching out to wipe his tears away. "I don't blame you. I love you."

"Danny you can't love me. You don't know what I did."

"I do know. You were a honey pot to find evidence of me trafficking children." Danny says as if though nothing. As if Dick hadn't betrayed him to the very core of their relationship. "I'm hurt by it, but I do not hate you for it. You were doing the same thing I was. Trying to protect children; after all, I did make thousands vanish. It looked suspicious."

"If I had been a better detective, I would have found the truth." Dick insisted, self-hate clouding his words.

Danny sighs, tracing the side of his cheek. "No, you wouldn't. Darling, you and Bruce had spent months investigating me without finding anything that could tie me to the case before you had the idea of the Honey Pot. I ensured no one would have found the truth unless they got close. I didn't even tell Tim. He just found out on his own."

Dick's tears flow faster. "I could have done more."

"I could have told you," Danny counters, smiling sadly. But to do so, I would have to tell you about my Halfa status, and I was never quite brave enough to disclose the subject. We both kept secrets, Darling and are both to blame."

"But you're dead." Dick chokes, reaching out his arm to bring his lover to his chest. He lacks the warmth that he once associated with Daniel Crowne. "My secrets lead to your death."

"Maybe. My secret would have led to me leaving your world anyway." Danny confuses.

"What?"

"Since I became Daniel Crowne, I have been working on a way to travel dimensions. It was my goal to get back to my original home. I became so obsessed with it that I did not weaver even years after landing in a world technically behind my own. Not even my love for you or my care for Tim made me give up on that goal." Danny says, eyes staring into Dick's soul, looking so majestic and sad that, for a moment, Dick wondered if he was a painting.

"I told myself that once I figured out a way to travel home, I could come back here to you and live another double life. But that was a lie. A pretty one but a lie. I had to choose one world or another and I would have chosen the other if I had lived."

Danny rests his forehead against Dick's. "I wanted a life with you, Darling, but fate wouldn't allow it as I have been too selfish. I know it's a lot to ask, but can I be selfish a little longer?"

The Gotham vigilante wraps himself around his dead partner, attempting to bury himself in his essence. "As much as you want Darling. Be as selfish as you want."

Neither speaks for long, allowing themselves to feel around each other.

"Daniel Fenton," Danny says after a long while.

"What?"

"My name. It's Daniel Fenton." Danny pulls back to smile at him. "May I tell his story?"

"Yes."

_____________________________________________________________

Dick wakes again to his room curtains gently blowing in the wind of his open windows. The rain has stopped, and a few birds are chirping in the trees outside the glass. The sun shines on the ring that has his name carved into the band, where it rests on his bedside table.

There is no evidence that Danny had been there the night before.

Dick carefully reaches out for the ring, sliding it onto his finger. It's a perfect fit.

He rolls onto his back, holding his hand up to watch the small stones curling around the band gleam. Somewhere in the afterlife, the Ghost King, rightful ruler of the Beyond, is wearing a similar one, and he may wait for the day the two reunite.

Dick Grayson knows everything about Danny Fenton, of how he arrived here in this world, of the one he lost when he flew aimlessly through the Infinite Realms, and of the life he built himself in his effort to get home.

He knows that Timothy Drake will continue to rule over Gotham's underbelly with his trained Ghosts, who will be far more dangerous than any Talon. He will also buy out Crowne Corp, bringing his brother's once titan of a company under his care to continue his work.

He knows Jason and Damian will grow up well, forging their own identities and teams and working hard to improve the lives of the residents of Crime Alley.

He knows that Bruce will continue his war against the crime of Gotham, and for every mistake and stumble he makes, Bruce will bring hope back to the people who cower in their homes.

He knows Lucas Black did not mean to kill Danny and finds he does not hate the man. Danny does not blame him, so why should Dick? He'll dedicate the rest of his life to working at the bakery his sister had always dreamed of owning.

But above all, Dick Grayson knows Danny Fenton still loves him.

For the first time since Danny's death, Dick allows himself to dissolve into sobs. His cries raise in volume, filling the room with their anguish. His bedroom door is flung open by a distressed-looking Bruce, who gathers him in his arms. His baby brothers are not far behind, and Alfred even puts aside his professionalism to join in on the hug.

One day, the family will be much larger than the five. Somewhere out there, a young girl unable to speak is waiting for them. Her brother, who can see the dance of light, is just a little behind. He likely goes to class with a girl in purple who will become Drake's right hand after one too many pushes from her shitty father.

Danny told him there would be more and that he had seen all of Dick's life. Ultimately, he will wait for them to pick up where they left off. The weight of their shared rings will be a companion for the rest of Dick's life.

Dick sobs and sobs until every nasty emotion is finally out of his body. It feels like relief.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #the adoptive son #The End #Angst #Hurt and Comfort #Bittersweet ending #Danny did honstly die #He was never going to go home #He learned the truth the moment he died #He doesn't hate Dick and is very in love with him #Both will wait a lifetime #Tim and Steph will not join the Batfam #Hope you liked the ending and thank you for sticking around for it!#Part 9

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cobaltperun · 11 hours ago

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Hi, I was just wondering if you could do a bottom Tara x top g!p female reader fic?!

where Tara and reader are dating but when sam finds out she forbids reader to come over to their apartment the only time they see each is in college. So T and R are texting 24/7 and one evening things get a little spicy like they start sexting ig sending stuff too each other (if you get what I mean) then Tara decides to sneak out because she's missing reader (vice versa) and goes to reader's apartment and they do it for the first time also could it be soft smut and some aftercare maybe. It's just T and R being gay af!

You don't have to do this btw thanks either way!Bye have a good day/night :)

Rule Breakers

SMUT! Bottom Tara Carpenter x Top G!P Female Reader

Masterlist

Word count: 4.9k

“You are what?!” the scream Sam let out echoed through the apartment making absolutely everyone present, you and Tara included, flinch. This was not the reaction you hoped for, though Tara did warn you it would probably be like this. You had no idea how bad it would get.

“We are dating,” Tara repeated and you could tell by the way she reached out and grabbed your hand that she desperately needed to feel your touch to calm down. How could Sam not see that? See beyond the fact that she herself didn’t know you?

“Absolutely not! Tara you met her what? A month ago?” Sam was not accepting this at all. You could see the fury in her eyes as she looked at you as if you immediately threatened to hurt her sister. You knew what the reason was and you definitely couldn't blame her for it. But it still hurt to see she didn't trust Tara's judgment. Tara was an adult. She went through even more than Sam did and she just wanted to live her life, which included falling in love and dating, and you hoped one day moving in with you so you could build your future together.

Yeah. You were whipped.

“Four months, actually,” Tara rolled her eyes. The two of you met in college on the first day. You sat next to each other and immediately got along and fast forward three months, some time after she had opened up to you about how she was attacked and nearly killed by one of her closest friends, she just asked you out and you accepted it. You definitely developed a crush on her a lot sooner than that, and while that wasn't important at the moment you really believed Tara knew that all along. She just had a way of knowing just how you felt about her, in her own words, you were an open book in her eyes.

“That's not nearly long enough,” Sam pointed the finger at you, the fury in her eyes not fading even slightly.

“Hey, Sam wait!” Tara tried to stop her sister, but it was too late.

“Out right now. If I ever see you close to Tara things will not end well for you,” you had no doubts about just how serious Sam was and you saw Tara’s jaw dropping.

“What the fuck Sam?!” Tara screamed at her sister and quickly turned to you as you got up. “No this isn't what I want!” she jumped to her feet after you and stepped in front of you. “Hey, just listen to me, this isn't what I want,” it hurt you to see her like this, in pain and afraid, and her eyes already filling with tears.

For the first time since you came to the apartment you glared at Sam.

“Come on Sam give it girl a chance,” Chad tried to get her to see reason but a single glare shut him down.

“I will not risk Tara's safety,” Sam would not listen, in fact, she stood up as if to show you the way out. You swallowed the lump in your throat as Tara grabbed onto your hand to keep you from leaving, tears were falling down her face.

“I don't want this, please,” her hands trembled as she said that and for a moment you stopped glaring at Sam.

Your eyes softened and you gently brushed the tears off Tara’s face. “I know you,” whispered and leaned down to kiss her, Sam be damned. Tara relaxed into the kiss, realizing you weren’t going to leave her, and she kissed your back and poured all of her love into that one single kiss. When you separated you turned to Sam returning her glare without flinching for a single moment.

Sam was intimidating there was no doubt about it, but this was a lot more important. “You can try all you want, Sam, you will not scare me away. Got it? Drop the protective big sister bullshit because no one gets to make my girlfriend cry. Not even you,” the temperature in the room dropped when you said that and you could tell everyone just got on the verge of running away and you could not blame them.

Sam looked even more furious, she looked ready to spit fire and rain hell upon you, but you stood your ground. And to make your defiance even more clear you stepped around Tara and faced her sister head on with nothing blocking her path.

Sam remained silent for now, just glaring at you and you nodded, feeling like this ended about as well as it could. “Glad that's clear, I’ll see you later Sam,” you made your point clear, there was no reason to stick around because hanging out with Tara at this point, in this situation and in their apartment wouldn’t do any good for anyone, you and Tara especially.

~X~

She absolutely won the lottery. She would never try to even purchase a ticket because all her luck was just spent on getting the most amazing, badass girlfriends she could ever hope for. Did the way you talked back to Sam make her wet? Yes, yes it did.

Would she have gone to her room to handle that if everyone else still wasn’t at the apartment? Yes, she would have.

Would she do it tonight? Absolutely.

~X~

After what happened last week you and Tara kept seeing each other only at college, and that, more often than not, led to both of you just ditching the classes and getting coffee and croissants from a local bakery you both loved to visit. You did not expect that single decision to haunt you for the rest of the week. You both thought you were just that slick about it as you skipped several classes over the past week just so you spend time together and act like an actual couple instead of two people hiding from the world.

The world in this case being Tara's sister.

If Tara started failing classes because of her absence, well, that would be entirely on Sam.

~X~

Tara should have seen the trouble coming from a mile away. She just had too much fun today, walking with you in the park, grabbing breakfast, you even managed to catch a movie, and it was actually a good one! And to make things even better Tara couldn't keep her hand away from your own, constantly holding it as you went from one place to another.

And then the world just turned against her. She opened the doors and saw Sam expecting her with a stern look on her face, and arms crossed, sitting at the table in the kitchen.

She was in so much trouble.

“You were with her, weren't you?” well she couldn't exactly confess, so she would at least try to deny it. What were the chances that Sam had an actual proof Tara skipped classes with you?

“We were catching up on some lesson we missed, so classes got extended,” Tara lied a bit easier than she thought she would, but she figured the habits she picked up on while she was living with her mother were difficult to get rid of.

“Do not lie to me, Tara!” she flinched at Sam’s shout. “I went to pick you up and you weren't there. And when I asked your classmates if you even came to the classes, they told me neither of you showed up today!” Tara was caught pretty much red-handed and Sam knew it.

Tara sighed and sat down across the table. “You can't expect me to break up with her, Sam. I love her!” she was getting frustrated by Sam's behavior. Why couldn't her sister just let her go, just let her live her own life.

“Tara, you don't love her, you don't even know her properly! She could be dangerous,” this paranoia had to stop, because Sam saw everyone that tried to approach Tara as an enemy, as someone Tara needed protection from.

“Sam do you hear yourself?” Tara couldn’t deal with it anymore. “We are living with Quinn and she keeps bringing random guys to the apartment! Any one of them could be as psycho that just gets up one night and kills all three of us. You don't know those guys, yet you let Quinn bring them along!” Terra pointed out, exasperated by Sam not being able to see logic in her words, more importantly she was furious because Sam wouldn't trust her judgment.

She knew you. She had complete trust in you. And she got betrayed in a worse way than Sam did, after all while Richie was Sam’s boyfriend, Amber has been Tara’s friend for over a decade by that point.

“That isn't how Ghostface works and you know that,” Sam argued back. Ghostface this, Ghostface that. Tara was getting sick of it.

How could Sam not see it? “Ghostface isn't the only psycho, Sam! I can't live my life fearing that anyone I meet is going to turn out to be a psychotic killer. I want to live Sam, I fell in love and I want to enjoy that! I want to be with Y/N!” she desperately hoped Sam would just for once listen to her.

Yet Sam acted like a broken record. “We don't know her,” and Tara knew it wouldn’t matter how long you spent trying to get Sam’s trust. Sam would never know you ‘well enough’, Sam wouldn’t even try to get to know you.

“So what? I'm just supposed to fall in love with Chad? Because who else is left?” Tara demanded, but she might as well be talking in an entirely different language.

“This conversation is over, you’re grounded for a week,” Sam stood up and stormed into her room, leaving utterly flabbergasted Tara alone.

What a great way to spend the week off from classes.

~X~

Five days, that’s how long this torture’s been going on and Tara felt like she was about to lose her mind. And she was supposed to last an entire week?! The remaining two days felt like they would never end because each day seemed to drag out more than the previous one, even witconstant texting between the two of you. She turned in her bed for what felt like the hundredth time and her bed showed it. Messy twisted blanket, crumpled sheets, her head resting only on the corner of her pillow as she once again got on her back and stared at the ceiling. Sam was being unfair. Mindy had Anika, her and Sam were living with Quinn, who they didn’t know beforehand, and Tara was sure Sam had something going on with that Danny guy, and Chad was also occasionally flirting with girls! She was the only one who couldn’t have what she wanted.

Her phone buzzed and she immediately scrambled out of the blankets to take it. Curse her battery for needing to be charged! Tara quickly unlocked her phone and saw the message was from you.

Y/N: You need to see this!

Underneath it she saw the cutest Instagram reel of a puppy surrounded by ducklings.

Tara: 😍😍😍 They are so cute!

Your answer was immediate.

Y/N: Not as cute as certain someone, but it’ll have to do 😉

Tara fell back on her bed, a ridiculously wide smile already making its way to her face. Fuck, she missed you so much. ‘Yeah? Certain someone?’ she replied and her breath hitched when you sent her a selfie wearing a very soft looking shirt and grinning at her, and all of that could be manageable, if only Tara’s eyes didn’t immediately go to your lips and she realized it’s been way too long since she got to kiss you. She needed to feel your lips on her own, on her neck, on… fuck, what if you went lower. She bit her lower lip, studying your face, imagining your smiles, the way you looked at her.

Y/N: Tara? Baby? You’ve left me on seen for five minutes

That message temporarily snapped her out of her daydreaming. Or would it be nightdreaming? She never really thought of the logic behind the word. And she was desperately trying to ignore the desire gradually, scratch that, rapidly building inside of her.

Tara: I miss you

She finally replied and glanced back at your selfie as you typed the response.

Y/N: I kiss you too

Y/N (edited): I miss you too

Tara burst out laughing and quickly covered her mouth. ‘I saw it! Can’t take it back!’ she replied only to barely hold her laughter back when you just replied with ‘Shit.’ She smiled fondly, taking pity on you.

Tara: I want to kiss you too, so, so bad. I keep thinking about it and other things all the time

There, she confessed, knowing you were still prone to getting embarrassed and all shy about how affectionate Tara could get. Randomly kissing your cheek or hugging you when she knew you least expected was easily her favorite thing to do. The clear embarrassment on your face and the hitched breath, and especially the way you would freeze for a moment kept Tara entertained.

You had your own ways to mess with her, though she suspected you weren’t doing it on purpose. You would just go ahead and pull her chair out for her to sit, or bring her favorite coffee along when you would meet up and it was really messing her up to feel so cared for after years of neglect. It was yet another reason why she was so mad at Sam because she feared she wouldn’t be able to forgive her sister if Sam’s suspicious nature chased you away.

Y/N: Other things?

Hook, line, and sinker.

Tara opened her camera and switched to video. She winked at it and then turned it lower, to her waist, making sure to capture every detail as she unbuttoned her jeans and just brushed her fingers over the zipper, taunting you. She slowly panned the camera up her body while trailing the path with her hand. “Other things,” she was well aware of the sliver of her skin the camera caught when she pushed her shirt up. “Very specific things,” she whispered as seductively as she could, which, well, she didn’t have experience with seducing people, but she knew she’d get the desired effect with you as her hand brushing between her breasts moved the shirt in a way that emphasized her cleavage. And then she returned the camera to her face to show you she was lightly biting the corner of her lower lip.

She didn’t hesitate one moment before sending it.

You saw the message immediately, yet you didn’t respond, and Tara may have been stuck between getting nervous and completely confident in her charms. Minutes later she finally saw you typing.

Y/N: Tara

She could hear the exasperation in your message, yet she just sent ‘Yes, Baby? 🥺’

Y/N: Look at you acting all innocent

Yeah, she knew she was being rather mischievous. Even more so when she just replied with: ‘But I am all innocent’ she waited a moment, imagining you rolling your eyes and not immediately noticing the word play.

Tara: All innocent and inexperienced, just waiting for you to touch me

She put her phone under her shirt and took a photo, making sure there was just enough light to tease the details of her bra and sent it to you.

Your reply made her squeeze her thighs together. You sent her another photo, this time of you in front of a mirror, your hand covering the bulge in your pants and Tara caught herself wondering, and not for the first time, how big you were.

“Don’t tease me,” she sent you a voice message, whining as she cupped her breast, as her mind created the images of you taking her, fucking her. Instead of a message you actually called her and she resisted cursing because she was about to unzip her jeans and slip her hand inside. “Hey,” she whispered, trying to figure out if she could still do it.

“I’m teasing? Do you have any idea what you did to me?” your voice sounded strained an she knew you were in just as much of a dilemma as she was, only you seemed to be stronger than her, because if she didn’t do something about the lust she felt she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.

“I know,” she admitted, biting back a moan as she slipped her hand into her jeans and teased her pussy over her panties. Fuck, she was already wet. “Y/N,” if only you were here with her, touching her, fucking her. “Are you hard?”

“What do you think?” you replied and she knew the answer. “I haven’t seen you in five days and the first thing you send me is that fucking video,” oh, you were cursing. She really got to you and you were definitely getting to her as she pushed her panties aside and slid her fingers through her wet folds.

“You started it,” Tara tried to defend herself.

“It was an innocent selfie!” you exclaimed just as she brushed the tip of her finger over her clit.

“Fuck, if we don’t stop neither of us will be innocent by tomorrow morning,” she moaned into the pillow, stuck between the urge to make herself cum and just sneak out and go to you.

“Shit, maybe we shouldn’t stop,” she could hear the faint sound of you stroking your cock and probably would have wondered if you could hear her too, but more importantly she made her decision.

“I’ll be there in ten,” she absolutely despised herself for pulling her hand out of her jeans and ending the call, but she would quickly get rid of that feeling, she just needed to get to you first.

~X~

You met in front of your apartment with Tara immediately jumping into your arms and kissing you, and you found yourself being pushed against the wall next to your doors as she deepened the kiss. “Fuck, finally,” she groaned, pressing her body against yours. “Y/N,” she moaned your name, and you felt her grinding against you, not even waiting to get inside.

The effort it took to actually slow down and take her to your bedroom should be studied, but you couldn’t let your first time be rough and quick. No, Tara deserved a lot more than that. “Easy, Tara, let’s just go inside,” you barely put your hand over your mouth to quiet the moan when she nibbled on your neck.

“I need you,” she whined, but allowed you to pull her into the apartment and toward the bedroom.

“I know, I know, I need you too,” you confessed, uncomfortably hard, and it only got worse when Tara pushed you onto the bed and straddled your lap. “But we can take as much time as we want, just take it slow and enjoy our first time instead of rushing through it.”

She felt it when she jumped into your arms, and now that she was straddling your lap. This was what she wanted for so long, yet now that she was looking at you the words you spoke echoed through her mind. Yeah, she would really enjoy that, just taking things slow for once. Slow and steady.

She leaned down, kissing you softly as she brushed her fingers over the fabric of your shirt, reaching up to your shoulders and squeezing lightly when you wrapped your arms around her. “You sure you’ll be able to hold back,” she asked when she pulled back, you were very hard after all.

You ran your fingers through her hair and looked her in the eyes. “I’m not holding anything back,” you promised and kissed her again. Your lips felt so soft, and Tara moaned, she truly missed this feeling. You slid your hand down to her neck and Tara let out a shuddering sigh as she lifted her head up and made it easier for you to kiss her neck. This was good, this was familiar. Making out with you always left her needy and this time wasn’t an exception as she felt the heat pooling in her core. “Y-Y/N,” she whimpered when you bit her neck slightly, just the way she liked it and Tara slowly began grinding on you. “Just like that,” she whispered as you dragged your tongue up her neck, soothing the burning skin.

“You’re so beautiful,” you were mesmerized by her, captivated by her beauty. Her breathy moans felt like the most beautiful melody ever created and you were the one causing them. You pulled her shirt up just enough to slip your hands underneath it. You felt the slight shiver of her body as she squirmed a bit at your touch.

“Your hands are a bit cold,” she giggled as your fingertips brushed along her sides. “Y/N, that tickles,” she smacked you slightly on the shoulder and saw the grin on your face. “Goofball,” she kissed you quickly.

“Sorry,” you muttered, only half-serious as Tara sat up and slowly, in the most tormenting, teasing way possible, took her shirt and bra off. “Fuck,” she looked gorgeous and there was no way your eyes weren’t giving your thoughts away because you couldn’t get them off her body.

Tara smiled at that, she’s shown you her scars before, so she wasn’t worried about your reaction, but this? She was definitely getting an ego boost from this reaction, and the way your cock twitched against her pussy. “You want me, Y/N? Take me,” she said it. “Do anything you want with me,” and in return she’d do anything she wanted with you and there were plenty of things she wanted, so many in fact she knew you couldn’t do it all tonight.

You cleared your throat and nodded as you sat up yourself and then flipped the two of you around so you were on top of Tara. You looked her in the eyes as you leaned down and, while cupping her breast, licked her already hard nipple. Tara took your own shirt and bra off and watched you as you sucked on her breast while she ran her fingers through your hair, encouraging you to keep going. Her other hand found your breasts and she brushed her thumb against your nipple.

Your tangled bodies moved together. Every touch of your hands left her skin burning, left her body more desperate for your touch, every single brush of your fingers drove her mad with desire. And she still didn’t take her jeans or panties off. Your hand went lower until your fingers tugged at her jeans, teasing her and making her moan. “Need you,” she whispered and felt you nodding as your unzipped her jeans and pulled them down.

“You’re soaking wet,” you grunted as you slowly rubbed her pussy over her panties. Tara dared to believe you could slip your cock inside her without any troubles with how wet she was if only you weren’t so big. You pulled your hand out of her jeans, making her immediately whine.

“Y/N, don’t tease me, please,” she begged, but luckily you just took a moment to take her jeans and panties off and strip the rest of your clothes as well.

“That’s your specialty,” you got back on top of her and pushed two fingers inside her pussy, and if she wasn’t as aroused as she was she would probably be embarrassed at how easily your fingers slipped in. Your fingers felt so good inside her as you continued kissing and caressing her body and Tara lay there, a moaning mess before your cock was even inside her. She reached down and wrapped her hand around your cock, there was precum leaking out of it as she rubbed the tip with her thumb. “Don’t, I won’t last if you do that,” you bit her shoulder a bit rougher than you intended. “I want to cum when I’m inside you,” you said while bringing her close to her orgasm.

“Me too then. Put it in me, I’m ready,” she spread her legs for you and kissed you as you blindly reached for the drawer next to your bed and grabbed the condom on top of it. If she didn’t quite literally tell you you would be having sex she would have teased you, but as it was she just wanted you to put it on and fuck her.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” you asked as you lined your cock up with the entrance to her pussy. And oh, she was ready, soaking wet, she probably wouldn’t even feel any pain. Tara nodded and kissed you once more as she hugged you tightly. She felt the tip of your cock sliding into her pussy and moaned, breaking the kiss and leaning her head back on your pillow.

“Y- Ah! Y/N!” she cried out your name, her fingertips digging into the back of your head, her back arching as you wrapped one arm around her and used the other to hold onto her hip.

“You’re taking me so well, Tara,” you whispered in her ear and finally, finally, she took all of you. She was close before, but now, feeling this full, she knew she was right on the edge.

You knew you couldn’t last for long like this. Tara’s warm, wet pussy engulfed you and you tried to focus on something else, to prolong this, but there was no way you could do that, so, you moved your hand from her hip to her clit and began rubbing as you slowly began thrusting into her, hoping you could get her to cum before you did. You would hold back until she cums, you promised that to yourself.

“I’m so close,” Tara moaned. “Look at me,” she pleaded, and you immediately complied as you looked into each other’s eyes, your bodies moving in the perfect sync as she began meeting your thrusts. Her orgasm kept building up, slow and steady, like your entire lovemaking was tonight, and with each thrust she could see you were getting close as well. “Y/N,” she moaned your name, no longer conscious of how much time you spent like that. She just knew that at one point she came, loud and hard, as your sweat covered bodies pressed together and she felt you cumming as well with a moan of your own.

She was absolutely spent. Satisfied with this being her first time. There would be other nights or days for longer lovemaking with multiple orgasms. In her head, and she truly hoped, in yours too, this was perfect.

Tara held onto you, feeling happier than she’s been in a long time. The blissful feeling consuming her entirely as you pulled your cock out and she glanced down at the filled condom. Maybe it was just her orgasm affecting her brain but she couldn’t help but think how one day, when you’re both ready, you’ll be cumming deep inside her. “Baby, Y/N,” she hummed as you caught your breath on top of her and she gently scratched the back of your head.

You lowered your head a bit and kissed her shoulder. “You were incredible,” you whispered, peppering her shoulder and the side of her neck with soft butterfly kisses. “Tara,” you whispered her name like it was your own, personal salvation. “I love you so much,” it wasn’t the first time you said those words, but it felt so good to hear them.

“I love you too, Y/N,” she tilted your chin up and kissed you on the lips, just as soft as everything tonight was. “I never thought sex would feel this good,” she admitted. There was no pain, no holding back, it consumed her entirely and all she could feel was your love for her as you took her innocence.

You chuckled. “Tell me about it,” you rolled onto your back and pulled Tara on top of you so you could rest while still holding her.

Tara had other ideas, turning both of you so you were lying on the side. “There, that’s better,” she whispered and leaned in, closing the distance between you. You would need to get up soon, clean up, take care of the mess you made, but she could bask in your warmth for a bit longer. Especially when you began rubbing her back, soothing her, keeping her feeling good. “I love how gentle and loving you were,” she whispered as she snuggled up to you, aware that, while she did absolutely enjoy the gentle sex she wasn’t opposed to getting a bit rougher sooner or later. She wanted to feel it all with you, to try everything and anything you were both comfortable with.

“It felt right,” you hummed, focusing on holding her and occasionally kissing wherever you could reach at the moment. While Tara showered you with love through words, you preferred touch, and it worked for both of you perfectly. Tara who was starved for touch, you who were starved for words of affirmation, I was a match made in heaven in her mind.

You stayed like that for some time, easily fifteen minutes, if not closer to twenty. Just cuddling and loving one another before you finally went to clean up, not leaving the shared shower until all the hot water had run out.

A/N: Well... Sam may have been a tiny bit over the top/out of character for the sake of the plot 🤣🤣

#perunrequests #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara x reader #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader #g!p reader #bottom tara carpenter #top reader

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pricegouge · 3 days ago

Text

Humor Me (Even When it's Ruining Me)

part two

masterlist | taglist: pricegouged

babysitter!reader x single dad!price

cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. daddy kink. MDNI

Banner by @/cafekitsune

Chapter two

Three weeks later and you don't quite know what's happened, or who you even are anymore. You're waspish and short, run ragged between classes and the two families you've somehow managed to become employed for. They're nice enough to coordinate between themselves, most nights - Kate reaching out with a schedule the two of them have agreed on that lets you manage both kids at once. That doesn't mean they can always get their kids under the same roof for you, their schedules always too full to manage the drive across town. As if yours is any better.

The tentative routine you've fallen into is easy enough on paper, attending morning class before heading over to the Laswell's and doing most of your classwork there, even attending an online lesson once a week because Colin is a little angel who can remain calm as long as you are, but it all goes pretty much to shit the second you embark to pick up Emily from preschool around midafternoon, loading Colin into the carseat the Laswells very generously bought for you.

(Between the fact that it stays belted into your car twentyfour seven now because you don't trust yourself to reinstall it properly without the weirdly mechanical tests John used to ensure its safety when he set it up the first time and the fact that Colin can occasionally be heard cooing in the background of your more interactive lessons, there's definitely a rumor going around campus that you have a baby. You're not sure how you feel about it, but it does tend to keep the more annoying boys at arm's length so you haven't really gone out of your way to correct it quite yet. Emily's booster gets stored in your trunk, though. You don't quite want to know what kind of leper you'd become if your classmates thought you'd been on Sixteen and Pregnant.)

The girl is… tougher. Well behaved but boisterous, moody at times. Her rambunctiousness is infectious, gets Colin worked up from the confines of his seat in a way he doesn't usually wind down from for hours while Emily prattles on about her day and waves glittery crafts at you, leaving your car looking like a bad drag hangover, still-tacky finger paints smearing like lipstick stains on your upholstery.

(This is why Emily's booster stays in the trunk, there's already enough misleading evidence all over your car.)

(This is why John doesn't pick up his own daughter, you're fairly sure, and you've half a mind to install a glitter bomb in his glove box as revenge.)

You don't always have to watch the girl, John's evening schedule an unfixed thing, but Emily always seems excited to see you pulling up, as if she knows that her father works even when he's home. It's why you try to stay patient with her when her boundless energy riles the baby up, or when her incessant need for attention prevents you from finishing papers on time. It's not her fault, but it is slowly driving you insane.

Gina helps out when she can, usually bringing dinner for everyone when she stops by the Price's to pick up her kid in the early evening. Sometimes she even stays for a bit, helps keep Emily entertained while you streamline the bedtime routine with hopes of finishing up homework after she tucks in for the night. It's a valiant effort made by all, but the girl doesn't often play along, much too busy antagonizing you to bother showering in a timely manner. There are nights you think of her more like a little sister than a client, the way she picks on you. You feed it right back in your darker hours, when having every minute of your day planned out and consumed weighs on you, giving you teeth. You'd made her cry once by mistake, your tone more than your words themselves needling under her skin until she burst into tears, hid in her room until her father came home. There'd been an odd sense of relief to it, balancing out the panic of a bad review. Sure, you'd be fired and no one would want to hire you ever again if John used that one app where you got most of your odd jobs, but at least the Laswells wouldn't give you up and you could return to your regular schedule. But when Mr. Price got home that evening, he'd only listened to his whiny daughter with a soft smile, kissing her on the forehead before telling you both that he 'Wished his girls would get along.'

You can see where Emily gets it from, her ability to drive you insane, but where the girl is loud and prickly or candy-sweet by turns, a constant one man crew of Guess Who, her father is a steady, low stream abrading you, the funnel where he slips through your cells eroding until he's a constant bubbling under your skin. He's incorrigible, insidious, shameless.

Escalating, lock step with you.

You still haven't returned his shirt. Well, technically you had - once. Worn it that Wednesday, the first time he'd asked you back. You'd done it with every intention of teasing him a little, noting you'd need a replacement if he wanted it back now, and changing out of it before leaving for the night. He'd turned it on your head with a simple 'You could always just take it off,' before you'd even been able to reveal your plan to give it back to him.

He should have expected you to retaliate after that, returning home with it once more. It's remained safe in your dresser ever since, one less avenue for him to come barrelling down the center of, catching you in his headlights like a deer too scared to run. And if keeping it means you get to wear it to bed sometimes, so be it. That's his fault, too, always texting you so late to 'make sure you got back okay.' It's possible he's being gentlemanly, but that would be a first so you refuse to believe it, assume instead that he wants to make you think of him when you're climbing into bed each night. Like you need the help, like you haven't already worn the scent off his shirt. Sometimes you think about weaseling another one from him, or wonder how long it would take him to notice if you outright stole one. You know which room is his, have caught glimpses through the cracked door sometimes when following Emily up to her room. He never shuts it, too trusting. You probably would've already gotten yourself off on his pillow like a bitch in heat if he hadn't let slip early on that Emily sometimes likes to sleep in his bed when he's away. 'Think she misses me sometimes,' his voice was sad but the leer he gave you as he continued was anything but. 'She's allowed, if she wants.'

The next day he mentioned Emily falls asleep quickest when someone lies down with her to read her story. Your papers continue going unwritten, the girl wandering out of her bedroom late into the night because you refuse to start the habit when you know how it will end.

It's unsustainable, feels like you're circling the drain. But the money is great.

While the Laswells had never been stingy, John pays you like a dental surgeon each time he needs you. That same exorbitant rate from the first night, now with a prepaid gas card he seems very uninterested in monitoring the spending of. You'd be tempted to test your theory if you had time, take a road trip out to your parents or something just to see if it ever got declined. Sometimes you fantasize about it at night, texting him an SOS and a picture of your gas gauge on E. It's embarrassing how often he shows up to save the day in your daydreams now, racing to your side in his gleaming Lexus to refuel your car with a suggestive smile, working the nozzle past your intake valve like he's slipping into a wet cunt.

You should probably get laid, but who has the time? Especially given your… situation.

(Your situation being there is no situation. Never has been one. Virginal as the day you were born save for some over-the-pants heavy petting in high school and a rotation of cheap drug store vibes you usually end up abandoning for your own fingers because dear god, you'd think you'd have learned after the first wasted investment but up until now, with John's much needed help, you haven't really been in a position to just spend on sex toys all willy nilly and while yeah, sure, you are now, every time you go to spend his money on an imitation cock you can't help thinking might look like his, you suddenly remember you're only here because you can't put your big girl panties on and -.)

It takes time, is the problem. You don't need the whole blanket under the stars treatment, but you at least want some evidence that you're not going to get jackhammered into the mattress by some selfish, overeager boy who wouldn't know how to get you off if you gave him a manual. But evidence takes time to gather, takes meetups in frat parties you have no interest in attending, and makeout sessions smelly couches just to see if your partner knows how to use their tongue. And for all his provisions, John (John.) has made well and truly certain that the one thing you don't have, is in fact time.

>Need you tonight.

The vibration of your phone against the library desk is loud as a gunshot, the message itself ringing in your ears just as bad. You placed your phone back on the table and sent your deskmate, a handsome senior named Paul who'd been your unofficial Saturday morning library pal for the last two semesters, an apologetic glance.

Paul just waved his hand at you dismissively, a small smile tugging at his lips. With his head bowed into his fourth edition of a rather intimidating neuroscience textbook that gave you anxiety just looking at it, the only way you could tell he wasn't annoyed by your antics at all was the dimpling of his cheeks. It distracted you momentarily, the urge to nibble at the fat there sudden and overwhelming, then your phone vibrated again because you'd been too distracted to silence it and you snatched it back up with an annoyed huff, ready to tell your employer off about disturbing your Sacred Saturday, your one day off a week.

(Again.)

> I know what day it is but it's an emergency.

> I'll make it up to you.

< how so?

You chew your lip waiting for a response, the bubbling typing indicator roiling like your stomach. It's always like this, texting with John - every response teetering on too much. It's why you usually prefer to coordinate with the Laswells as much as possible, minimizing your discussions with Mr. Price to those late night 'Did you make it home okay?' messages.

(And sending him a photo evidence that his shirt was still safe and in your care once.

If you'd been wearing it at the time, snuggled up in bed and haloed in warm fairy lights with the hem riding a little high, that was his fault for asking after it so late.)

Tap, tap, tap.

Across from you, Paul drums his pen off the spiral notebook that sits between you, a custom since your third week sitting together. It's blank aside from your brief, handwritten conversations as far as you can tell, an accessory Paul seems to carry around for this express purpose, evidently preferable to just asking for your number so you can text each other to get around the strict no talking policy in the quietest lounge of the library. In the year or so since you've met him, you've never heard Paul talk, all of your correspondences reduced to the notebook which he draws your attention to now, his tidy scrawl asking a simple but damning question: 'Who's the guy?'

You shake your head, instinctual - automatic. Paul crooks an unimpressed brow at you and underlines his original question.

'Just some guy I work for, why?'

Paul smirks when he reads it but turns serious in response, waving at your overall demeanor as if that answers everything.

In your palm, your phone gives a muted buzz and you have to physically swallow back the urge to check it immediately. You roll your eyes at Paul instead. A poor excuse for the frustration you want to unleash, but opening the valve even a hair was better than just letting it build.

His scrawl is neat when Paul responds. Unaffected, calm. 'You've got a crush.' And then below that, its own paragraph: 'Should I be worried?'

It takes a moment for the words to register, the moment dragging out too long before your eyes dart up to your deskmate. Paul winks, scheming and sly, and your jaw hinges open in shock.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

"Shit," you hiss, scrambling out of your seat as your phone continues to vibrate with an incoming call. John's contact lights the screen, the stupid money bag emoji you'd used for him mocking you. You wait until you make it to the stairwell to answer to avoid the worst of the librarian's wrath, though she still shoots you a disapproving glare as you stalk past her post. You've half a mind to let the stairwell door slam behind you, but it would echo louder than your anger and you want John to hear every word when you accept the call.

"I am at the library," you hiss by way of greeting, as if that perfectly illustrates why you're so annoyed with him.

John just grunts, uninterested. "Are you available or not tonight? I need an answer ASAP so I can make plans if you're -."

"I'm off on Saturdays."

A beat passes as John recollects, evidently unused to being interrupted. "Right. Which is why I offered to pay you double your regular rate."

Confused, you check your texts to read the one you'd missed, too busy being chatted up by a cute boy much more appropriately aged. In it, John pleads desperately with you: offers twice your pay, dinner, anything you want.

You think of Paul's cute dimples, the way he's known you for a year without asking for your number. You think of John covered in shaving cream, his first words to you a joke about how desperate you looked - how desperate you both looked.

Hand pressed to your forehead, you shut your eyes and ask what time John needs you.

"Oh, thank you so much, sweetheart. A real lifesaver. I promise I'll make it up to you, just tell me how, okay? And as for tonight, no later than seventeen hundred, please - though honestly you can come by anytime, I'm sure Emily will be happy to see you."

Emily. Right. "Well I'm at the library for a reason, so -."

"You can use my study, of course. The munchkin knows better than to bug me when I'm in there."

Unbidden, you imagine pestering John yourself when he's lounged in some fancy modern desk chair, leather and broad. You bet his study smells like tobacco, that there's a bar cart in the corner. You imagine him using your mouth like a tumbler of whiskey, punishment for running it too much. He'd drink from your lips whenever he -.

"But I suppose I don't have all those useful resources like textbooks… well, consider it a standing offer."

"S-sure, Mr. Price. Thanks."

"Of course. I'll see you later, then?"

"Yes, sir."

On the other end of the line, John's breath stutters. His voice is low when he signs off, blunt and direct. Doesn't wait to hear your response. "Be good, sweetheart."

***

You're not entirely sure what being good constitutes, but you're fairly sure using John's emergency credit card Emily located for you in the freezer to Instacart approximately one day's minimum wage worth of junk food because Emily had been sad and despondent all day wasn't it. Nor was letting her dance her sugar rush off to less than appropriate music, probably, but it was worth it to see her smiling again after the fit she'd thrown when her father had left for the evening. You're both sweaty and breathless now, collapsing onto the couch between songs to shovel more M&Ms into your mouths and make fun of each other's dance moves. Emily says you use too much arm movements, but she's only four and thinks hopscotch skips are the new craze so you ask what she knows anyway and laugh at the way she rolls her eyes at you.

John's talkative too, apparently, the unexpected clients he'd been urgently called in to entertain evidently not holding his attention. He's never exactly radio silent when you've got his kid in your charge, but he usually lets you take the lead (pepper him with stupid questions you already know the answer to just to find an excuse to distract him because maybe you kinda like how short he gets) on those nights.

(Despite this standard, you don't feel the need to tell him you'd managed to read his credit card number through the brick of crystalline ice he'd cleverly hidden it in. You hope he's really short when he figures that stunt out.)

Tonight, however, it's John peppering you with questions. They start out innocent enough, asking after his daughter because he felt bad leaving her on a night that he'd promised to be home and he could see how much it upset her. Those questions peter out when you send him a picture of her all giggly and wound up, her hair freshly braided in a style she said he's too clumsy to accomplish for her. With confirmation that his daughter was feeling better, John's texts turn rapidly back to you.

> And how about you, sweetheart? Are you doing better?

< wym, better?

> What do you mean, wym?

< har har

> I mean you were rather short with me earlier. Are you still upset with me?

> I promise I also don't want to be working on a Saturday, for what it's worth.

< not mad

< just seems like you're not really needed with how much you're blowing up my phone

> Honestly, no. This is a waste of both our time.

> Have you decided how I can make it up to you, at least?

Actually, you hadn't even thought of it, figuring he was just being exaggerative - that he'd pay you your exorbitant rate and be done with it, send you on your way with your thoughts all twisted after some more growled insinuations and a pat on your ass, probably. He seemed like he was maybe two visits away from trying his luck, anyway.

Maybe you could ask for it sooner. Clear the air, finally feel his hands on you. You tell him you don't want anything, clarify nothing he can give you when he calls that out for being a lie.

> Sure about that? I can help with most things.

And the thing is, he's right. There are a lot of things you want. You want to get a better grade on your next econ assignment, you want a full night's sleep. You want to have free time, pick up a hobby. You have a growing desire to learn how to make the perfect pasta after seeing her scarf so many lackluster take out spaghetti bolognaise dishes. The solution was obvious, though one you knew he wouldn't want to hear.

< okay. i want more free time

> So quit with the Laswells.

It draws you up short, Emily bouncing around you unawares. It's one thing to suspect John's - your - end game, but another thing to see it batted around so casually. It makes you feel taken advantage of, guided in a way you don't necessarily appreciate. The Laswells were your first real, well-paying gig, your ticket to independence. You didn't relish the thought of abandoning them and you certainly didn't like to be coerced into the decision.

But John did pay very well.

< just like that?

John's answer is far too quick, the status changing directly from read to answered with a speed that suggested he may have had a response drafted already which he simply copy/pasted.

> It would make the most sense. I can pay well enough to make up for the lost income, plus my schedule works better with your classes.

> Honestly, I'm surprised you even lasted as long as you did with them.

< i wouldn't want to let them down…

> Nonsense, I'm sure they'd understand. You're a busy girl with a full schedule, afterall.

So were they - the whole reason you'd been working for them so long.

< i don't think i could quit on them. kate scares me.

> I'll take care of Kate, okay? No need to worry. I owe you one anyway, remember?

>Just let Daddy handle it.

It takes you a minute, the words somehow too natural to trip you up. Before you, Emily screeches happily about some cartoon that's maybe a touch too old for her and you think to yourself that she's going to sleep good tonight, all tuckered out as you know she's going to be and then you nearly drop your phone in your rush to chastise him, or run your mouth like you always do, or maybe double down on your request.

But the words don't come. Every time you manage to string two whole thoughts together it peters out, the textual manifestation of the gaping anime gasp he's managed to draw from you as you imagine him watching your typing bubbles appear and fizzle over and over again. If he's watching, of course, but he's a busy man so maybe -.

This time when your phone buzzes, there's no threat of a scolding librarian to keep your yelp suppressed. Just the odd look Emily shoots you before being distracted by her brightly colored show again, turning away from you disinterestedly as you excuse yourself to the kitchen.

"Mr. Price?"

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"S- sorry?"

His voice is calmer when he repeats himself, the same tone he uses on his daughter when she's too fidgety to listen. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

And that answer is easy because the flutter in your tummy you get whenever his words grow a little too overt is not discomfort, so the answer comes easily, if quietly. "No."

"Do you want me to stop?"

Through the fog of your fluster, you remember Paul and his glacial pace, the cat calls from boys you've never met before and have no interest in. This is different. This is good. "No."

The breath John lets out doesn't sound like he's been holding it, more a pleased sigh than anything, accompanied by a low hum. "Good girl. Appreciate you telling me. Is this something you want?"

"I just said -?"

"Not wanting me to stop and wanting something to follow through to its logical conclusion are not the same things. Is this something you want?"

The question grates - the notion that he would think of this all as a waste of time if you didn't know you wanted him, maybe. "Hadn't thought about it. You only just -," You counter vehemently, but John just laughs, a heavy burst of breath through his nose. It catches in his mustache - wind cutting through the grass.

"If I were to come home tonight to find you sleeping on my couch and decided to wake you up all sweetly and softly, would that be alright?"

You picture yourself sleep-soft and pliant, heavy hands soothing over your flank as John's rough voice coaxes you awake. "Yes," you breathe.

He hums approvingly. "And if I were to wake you with my tongue in your cunt, would that be too much?"

"John -!" you hiss, scandalized.

"Try again."

A beat passes where you try to smother the pit of nerves in your stomach. "Mr. Price."

"Better. Answer the question, sweetheart."

"Mr. Price, I -." You huff a breath, take advantage of the fact he can't see you to visibly straighten your spine, steel yourself. "Mr. Price, what do you want?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Easy. I've wanted to bend you over every available surface since you first barged into my bathroom and hinged yourself over that sink."

"I didn't."

"I want to keep that clever little mouth of yours quiet by stuffing it full of my cock. But I also want to hear you complain about what a brat my daughter's been all night because you're cute when you're mad. I want to come home and know what the two of you grabbed for dinner by licking it off your teeth." He pauses to give you an opening, notes your silence, and continues in a much softer voice. "And I want you to be able to focus on school a little better."

You can't manage anything better than a soft oh, and John's responding laugh is a low rumble, voice deceptively soft when he continues - the same voice he uses on Emily when she's too tired to behave properly. You wonder if his colleagues can hear him again, wonder if that's just how he's going to speak to you regardless.

"The question, sweetheart."

"I would like that, Mr. Price."

John's silent in the beat that passes, a hinge creaking open spilling ambient chatter in the background. He'd been sequestered, which means that last tone was only meant for you. "I'll see you tonight, kiddo. Behave for Daddy, yeah?"

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #humor me

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just-dreaming-marvel · 2 days ago

Text

Cold ~ Part 2

MAIN MASTERLIST / MARVEL MASTERLIST / CHRONIC ILLNESS MASTERLIST

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Word Count: 2,020ish

Summary: Logan becomes overprotective of you.

Notes: I hope this part makes some sense… I got sick yet again so I'm really craving someone to take care of me.

Cold ~ Part 1

Logan became a master at taking care of you during an arthritic flare-up. The consequence of that was that he also became a master at doing everything he could to make sure that you didn’t flare up. When is why he was marching towards you, with a clear look of anger.

“What are you doing?” He asked as you were stretching in the Danger Room.

“Uh, stretching,” you responded, continuing your movements. “I have a training session with Scott in a few minutes.”

“Not anymore. You’re not training.”

“Logan, I can’t gain more strength in my powers without training.”

“You’ve trained twice already this week.”

“And my current goal is three times.”

“You’re not ready for it yet.”

“I think I know what I’m ready for, Logan.”

“No. You don’t. I can sense that you’re overdoing it.”

“I’m feeling fine. I’m going to train.”

“Everything okay here?” Scott asked, feeling the tension as he entered the room.

“Yes.” / “No.”

“Okay, then,” Scott said, slowly backing up.

“I’m training, Logan,” you argued, standing your ground.

“Like hell you are,” he grumbled.

The two of you stared each other down, trying to see which one of you would break first, though you both knew the answer. With a scoff and a stop of your foot, you grabbed your training bag and threw it at Logan.

“Since I’m so weak, carry that back to my locker,” you huffed, marching off.

Logan sighed, shoulders slumping. He didn’t want to be the bad guy in your life; he was just worried. He also simply cared deeply for you in a way he hadn’t cared for anyone in far too long. He hated seeing you in pain and would do anything to prevent the pain you were forced into constantly. Logan had even talked to Hank about somehow using his healing mutation to help you. Hank said it was impossible. So Logan was forced to keep a careful eye on you, no matter if that meant you were often mad at him.

~~~

You did your best to avoid Logan for the next few days. But no matter how hard you tried, Logan was there, stopping you from training, or carrying heavy items, or using your mutation. The anger was festering inside of you, and it all came to a boiling point when you were called into a mission briefing. Everyone was already in the briefing room when you slipped in. You hung back by the door, trying to prevent Logan from seeing you just yet.

“The base that you will be infiltrating is in an interesting location,” Charles explained. The table everyone was surrounding changed to show the base. “It is several hundred feet down in the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Long Island. Due to their security system, there is only one way to reach it.” Charles’ eyes fell on you, causing the rest of the team to turn and look.

“No,” Logan immediately said. “No fucking way.”

“Logan, Y/N has been training for this. She has known about this mission for weeks now and is prepared.”

“Don’t care. She’s not a part of this. Find a different way.”

“Do I get any say in this?” You piped up.

“No,” Logan quickly responded, still focusing on Charles. “She’s not going. It’s too dangerous.”

You were growing angrier and angrier, forcing yourself to clench your fists as you felt the water pipes in the wall begin to tremble. Jean noticed and came over to your side, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Why don’t we take a break and reconvene later?” Ororo suggested.

“Later or not, Y/N is not going,” Logan argued.

“It’s not your choice!” You yelled. “It’s mine! I can do what needs to be done.”

“No, you can’t! You are too weak.”

A few gasps were heard throughout the room.

“Weak?” You repeated, both hurt and angered. “That’s what you think of me?” Suddenly, the pipes burst in the walls.

“Enough!” Charles commanded. “Y/N will be participating in the mission. And you will all be leaving at nightfall.”

You rushed out of the room, trying to hide the tears threatening to fall. You could hear loud footsteps behind you, already knowing who it was. A large hand caught your wrist, forcing you to stop, but you didn’t turn around.

“You can’t go,” Logan’s voice was stern but slightly wavered at the end.

“You’re not in charge of me, Logan,” you replied, trying not to let him know how you were feeling. “I am going on this mission, no matter if you think I’m weak or not.” You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, but his grip only tightened. “Let me go, Logan.”

“Not until you drop out of the mission.”

You finally looked at him, anger replacing hurt. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Y/N—“

With a flick of your free hand, the pipes in the hallway walls broke. The water shot out of the walls and pummeled Logan, throwing him back and away from you. You were breathing heavily as you stopped the water. Not wanting Logan to see how hard that was for you, you quickly left.

~~~

The jet ride was completely silent. You grabbed the pilot seat next to Scott so that you didn’t have to look at Logan. You could feel Logan’s eyes staring daggers into you.

“We’re here,” Scott announced, having the jet hover over where the base was located. He looked over at you. “You ready?”

“Yes,” you responded, determined.

“Great.” Scott stood. “Everyone get tethered up, then Y/N will clear a channel once everyone is ready.”

“I’m not going down,” Logan said. “I’m staying with Y/N.”

“We need you down there, Logan,” Jean said. “We’ll all be connected through the comms.”

“I can handle myself,” you added. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

You could see Logan’s jaw clench tighter. He let out a grunt before focusing on getting tethered up. Once you were sure they were all ready, you opened the bottom of the jet up. You took a deep breath before stretching your arms towards the ocean water and creating an open circular channel.

“Let’s go!” Scott said, jumping down first. Jean and Ororo quickly followed, with Logan lingering behind, watching you.

“Go, Logan!” You shouted.

He watched you for a few more seconds before jumping down with the rest. You ground your teeth together as you began to feel the strain of using your mutation like this.

“Alright, Y/N,” Scott said over the comms. “We’re in. We’ll let you know when we need the channel opened.”

“Got it,” you responded.

As you let the water go, you stumbled back, falling to the ground. You could feel the achiness start to set into your joints. Maybe Logan was right. Maybe you were weak. The jet suddenly shook as it was hit. You fumbled over to the pilot’s seat, trying to steer the jet away.

“Guys!” You shouted into the comms. “We have a situation up here. I’m being fired on!”

“What?!” A chorus of voices yelled over the comms.

“It looks like they got a few of their own jets in the sky.” The jet rocked as it got hit again. “Shit!”

“Y/N?!” Logan’s worried voice flooded through the speakers.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” You quickly punched a few buttons. “I’ve gone into stealth mode. Hopefully, that holds them for a little bit, but that means you have to free those mutants fast.”

It was another ten minutes before Scott gave you the signal to reopen the channel. You reopened the bottom doors and focused all your energy on opening the channel. Unfortunately, that also meant that the opposing side could find the jet. The jet shook yet again with another hit.

“Hurry!” You urged. “We’re open for hits!”

Scott and Jean came up the tethered lines first, each with a mutant with them. Ororo was next, two mutants with her, and then Logan with the last one. He could immediately sense that you were hurting more than the strain on your face was giving away. Untethering himself, Logan headed for you, but the jet shook once again before he could get to you. You released the hold you had on the water as you flew up and rammed into the ceiling. You let out a cry of pain. Logan moved fast, sliding as he barely caught you before you hit the floor.

“I’ve got you, I've got you,” he whispered, holding you tightly against him.

“Hang on!” Scott shouted. “We’re going to get out of here!”

Everything hurt inside. You couldn’t even hold onto Logan, just laying against him limply as you cried. Logan did his best to hold you steady as Scott flew the jet every which way to avoid getting completely shot down. Jean ended up using her powers to keep Logan and you still as everyone’s hearts were breaking at the cries and whimpers of pain coming out of you.

It took far too long for Logan’s liking for Scott to lose the other jets and return to the mansion. As gently as Logan could manage, he carried you out of the jet and to your room. He laid you down before moving around the room to grab a heating pad, medication, and a change of clothes for you.

“You were right,” you whispered. If Logan didn’t have enhanced hearing, he would have missed it.

“About what?” He responded, bringing all the items over to you.

“I’m weak…”

“No, I— I didn’t mean it that way, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you did… and yes, I am… I shouldn’t even be on the team. I can’t even handle one mission.”

Logan sighed, trying to get his thoughts together before he spoke. You took it as a sign that he let you win. With a whine, you sat up.

“You can go,” you told him. “I can take care of myself.”

“No,” he responded gruffly.

“Logan,” you sighed. “I’ve taken care of myself before… flare-ups can’t stop me. I’ve got to keep living.”

“There. Right there. That’s why you’re the strongest person I have ever met.”

“But you said—“

“I know what I said, and I… I’m sorry. You are not weak. I just… I, God, I’m terrible at this.” His hand raked through his hair. “I—Sweetheart, I care so much about you. I am constantly worried about you, but it’s out of…”

“Out of what, Lo?”

He gave you a knowing look. “I think you know what.”

“I think you need to say it so I don’t go assuming things.”

“I… I love you, sweetheart. And I just hate to see you in pain. I wish that I could take it from you, and trust me, I asked Hank about it, and I—”

You winced as you placed your hand on top of Logan’s mouth to stop his rambling. “I love you, too. And I know that I haven’t said it enough, but thank you for taking care of me.”

His hand carefully wrapped around your wrist as he kissed your hand and moved it down to your lap. “Always.” He looked at you, wanting to kiss you, but he could sense the pain you were in. “What do you need?”

You looked away. “I… I can’t change.”

“Alright.”

“I need some heat.”

“I grabbed your heating pad.” He held it up.

“Could you hold me?”

“Are you sure? I’m a lot heavier than you and I—“

“And your body is my personal heating pad. Please, Logan.”

“How do you want me?”

You winced as you moved to lie down. Logan’s hand hovered over your body, not knowing exactly what to do to help. You moved onto your side, back facing Logan. He got the hint and carefully maneuvered around you so that he was the big spoon and you were the little spoon.

“Like this?” He muttered nervously.

“It’s perfect,” you replied.

“You sure. I can—“

“Logan. Just hold me.”

“Okay.” He leaned in and kissed the back of your neck before resting his head there. “I’ll hold you as long as you need, sweetheart.”

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keepyourword · 2 days ago

Text

best friend!suguru hates your boyfriend. ask suguru and he’ll say that he finds your boyfriend inconsiderate and straight up disrespectful. his point is only further proven when you call him late one night.

best friend!suguru, who’s initial reaction is to be irritated with you for calling him this late. “do you know what time it is? what do you want?” but as your best friend, he’s obligated to hear you out.

best friend!suguru, who short fuses when you reveal that you agreed to go on a date with your ex-boyfriend. you describe an optimistic evening of romantic exchanges and wardrobe planning to eventually find out that you were stood up. “can you come get me?” you sob into your phone. “i just wanna go home.”

best friend!suguru, who doesn’t hesitate to say, ‘i told you so.’ he stays on the phone with you while driving just to lecture you. “i can’t believe you fucking texted him in the first place,” his voice peaks with disappointment. suguru didn’t need to raise his voice to give away his frustration with you, the hiss in his tone said it all.

best friend!suguru arrives sooner than you expect and the car is warmed up just for you. as soon as your seatbelt clicks, he’s reaching for a blanket that sits in the back seat. relief blows over him seeing you safe and sound, but that doesn’t show on his face. “suguru, i’m fine,” you protest the blanket, but he doesn’t let you. he shoves the blanket in your lap, giving you a stern look before focusing back on the main road.

“you’re not,” he says sharply. “this is not the first time he treats you like shit. why are you okay with that?” he squeezes his fist against the steering wheel, his other hand massaging the temples of his forehead.

you don’t respond.

best friend!suguru, who notices, but doesn’t acknowledge your pouty demeanor. he glances at you at one of the red lights and you respond by crossing your arms and pursing your bottom lip. in hindsight, he does feel bad for you. getting all dolled up just to be disappointed. but it's also so goddamn frusterating watching you get yourself into these situations.

best friend!suguru, who walks you to your apartment. after dropping your coat and bag at the entrance and slipping your shoes off, you storm off to the restroom. locking the door behind him, suguru almost doesn’t catch you turning the corner. he’s able to follow you and attempts to grab your wrist, but misses. “why are you acting like that? can you just stop and talk to me.” he catches up to you at the restroom and before you can close the door, his hand stops it and the both of you stare at each other. “are you really crying over that asshole?”

“go home,” you tell him, but he pushes the door further open.

best friend!suguru, who doesn’t know when to stop. “why do you want him?” he asks harshly, glaring down at you. when you don’t respond, it only irritates him more. “really, you don’t have an answer for me?” he shakes his head and scoffs, “you’re acting so fucking dumb.”

best friend!suguru, who realizes he might’ve been too harsh with you when you begin weeping into your hands. he stares at your figure sitting on the bathroom floor, knees pulled to your chest. he isn’t being a supportive friend to you. he kneels in front of you, reaching for your hands to pull them away from your face.

“you’re being so mean,” your breath hitches in your throat.

“i’m just realizing,” he sighs, “i'm sorry.” his fingers slip behind your neck and under your hair to push it all back. delicate fingers also push the smaller strands of hair behind your ears.

“are you mad at me?” you choke asking that question. truth was that he was mad at you for continuously returning to your ex-boyfriend, and slightly jealous, but he wasn’t going to tell you that.

“not at you, sweet girl.”

best friend!suguru, who is suddenly gentler with you because of the guilt. he whispers apologies into your ear and says he’ll make it up to you with take-out and a movie, but only after you forgive him.

best friend!suguru is so sweet to help you with your bed-time routine, but realizes that friends aren't typically this close. they especially don't help each other get changed, the thought occurring to him while pulling your pajama shorts over your hips. his thumbs linger under the material for longer than necessary and he gulps unnervingly at your close proximity. it doesn’t help that you look at him with imploring eyes just begging to be taken care of.

best friend!suguru, who lets you cuddle with him while watching a movie, but you just can't lay still. he realizes that watching a rom-com might not have been the best idea as he watches your body and mind become restless. not even your favorite film was serving enough of a distraction. “please, just tell me how to make you feel better.”

best friend!suguru thinks letting you kiss him is a better distraction than a movie. you hook your leg over to sit on his hips, forcing his back flat against the couch cushions. you kiss him, eagerly pushing your tongue passed his lips. he knows it’s wrong letting you cope this way, but he just wants you to feel good after everything that happened.

best friend!suguru doesn’t stop you when things move too fast. you splay your hands against his chest and rub your clothed sex against his. though suguru doesn’t like the idea of being your rebound, he has to admit that lust looks so fucking good on you. so mesmerized by the way you sway your hips, he doesn’t realize the food he ordered had arrived out front. but before you can completely indulge yourself, large palms stop the friction. “break up with him,” he demands, “i’ll let you fuck me, just promise me you’ll do it.”

best friend!suguru thinks you look so pretty when you sit on his cock. you take a moment to adjust to suguru’s length because he’s so much thicker than your ex. and when suguru notices you tremble from the pleasure, he embraces you with caressing hands. you desperately whine into his hair and he soothes you, “fuck, hon’, i know, i know. you’ll feel so much better when you start fucking on my cock, i promise.” he kisses your shoulder gently.

you’re convinced that best friend!suguru’s dick can cure heart ache because not an ounce of you misses your ex. you’re pretty sure you’re drunk on your best friend’s dick. you fuck roughly on his length, pussy clenching every time the tip of his cock hits just right. you swear your cervix will remember the outline of his cock for the next few days.

best friend!suguru, who wants to be as supportive as he can. so, when you’re about to come, he holds your hand and tells you how good you’re doing. “god, you take cock so good,” he groans. “you’re gonna come soon, aren’t you?” he grabs your face to make you look at him. “wanna see your pretty face when you cream on my cock.”

you delicately slide your fingers into suguru’s dark strands and watch as his gaze flickers from your parted lips to your dazed eyes. being on the verge of an orgasm has you acting like a person possessed entirely by their desire. so, when he unexpectedly feels you tug at the back of his head, you swear his pupils form little hearts. if you’ve learned anything from having sex with this man, it’s that best friend!suguru loves getting his hair pulled.

and after your orgasm, best friend!suguru uses all his might to pull out of you. his hands swiftly pick your hips up and off of him just on-time before he comes undone, thick load oozing from his tip. “fuck,” he pants, “m’sorry, i almost came n’side you.”

that concern doesn’t even slip your mind. instead, you connect your lips with his, desire igniting once more in your tummy. his mind still preoccupied with how well you took him, suguru is taken aback when you ask him to go again.

#jujutsu kaisen #geto suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto scenarios #jjk suguru #suguru x you #suguru #jjk #keepyourword

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astronicht · 3 days ago

Note

23 or 24 for rosquez 🙏🙏

24. whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin

I wrote a kind of soft one for the thigh-grabbing prompt and this is uh not like that. keeping the universe in balance! sorry in advance i guess. Kind of a companion piece, actually, to this earlier rosquez prompt snippet.

Valentino shakes awake from a dream in which someone is dead. The point at which there is a jolt into wakefulness is unclear.

Daylight is too bright across the bed, and he can smell his own sweat. He reaches for Marc, but he isn’t used to Marc being here and goes for the wrong side of the bed. Valentino’s hand knocks over a glass of water, and a carton of pills on the side table. They skid onto the tile.

Marc isn’t in bed, exactly. He’s sitting on it, legs crossed, staring down at Valentino from the other side. One hand is braced on the mattress, taking a lot of his weight. He likes to put his weight on his bad arm, over and over. Valentino has seen him do it even when he thinks he is alone.

His good arm is holding a little espresso cup from the ranch kitchen. He is noticing Valentino’s mad scramble, but a little too slowly. His face is blank and far away.

Sometimes Marc goes very distant. It would be better if it were personal, but Valentino thinks it isn’t. He thinks the only person Marc can bear to stay present with, always, is his brother. For Valentino, this is much worse than if he simply couldn’t do it with anyone at all. It feels like penance.

“Vale?” Marc asks, that awful blankness creasing into a frown. The sharp nausea of the dream recedes, though someone is still dead.

Valentino rolls onto his elbows and stomach and rests his forehead on the mattress. He breathes, awful and shaky, but it’s better to get the bad breaths out until he’s running clean again.

“Vale?” Marc says again. His voice is less flat; he’s almost present, now. The smell of the espresso is overpowering.

“Marc,” Valentino says. His voice sounds like shit. His arms and thighs are a little tired, from fucking. “Did you figure out the espresso machine?”

“No,” Marc says slowly. The bed shifts. “No one will touch it. Bezzecchi made me a Turkish coffee.”

He’s lying. Marco doesn’t know how to make Turkish coffee, and if he did he wouldn’t be making one for Marc. It will have been Pecco. Vale is a little surprised. This means Pecco both arrived on time for morning practice and made Marc a coffee.

No one can actually work the espresso machine except for Vale, and previously, Uccio. There is no point mentioning this because Valentino does not say Uccio’s name to Marc.

The shaking is stopping. But like payback, the dropping feeling in his chest is getting worse. Valentino blinks his eyes open: bedding below him. It smells like semen. To his right is Marc, shifting, coming closer from wherever his mind was. There is a dripping sound: the glass Valentino knocked over on the nightstand. It is just water, but now it’s mostly on the floor.

He remembers reaching for Marc, because someone was dead. He had not been reaching for comfort. He had needed Marc or needed to be ill. This has not really changed.

“Is the coffee good?”

“Yeah,” Marc says. “Tell Bezzecchi nice job.”

That would be funny.

“Are you done, then?” Valentino asks.

“Sure,” says Marc.

Valentino grabs the back of his t-shirt and yanks backwards. He’s not delicate about it, and Marc instinctively snatches up the bad arm. He falls backwards onto the bed. He also lied about being done with the Turkish coffee; it splatters across Valentino’s chest and the shirt he fell asleep in sometime around six in the morning. It’s cold; Marc hadn’t even been drinking it. The smell is sweet and strong. The espresso cup hits the mattress and then thumps on the floor, trailing cold coffee grounds. You can read those like a palm or tea leaves, Vale has heard.

Valentino rolls onto Marc’s back. Under him, Marc tries to go up on his elbows— tries to lean on the bad one, lean on the bad one. Valentino grunts and doesn’t let him. It’s worth the effort: Marc groans, and says “Yeah, please—.”

Vale fists a hand in his hair. Coffee grounds are between Vale’s fingers. His heart is going too fast.

They can’t have fucked that long ago, because they fucked at dawn right before Valentino fell asleep. Marc slept, off and on, cat-napping through Valentino’s long night, occasionally blinking like some nocturnal animal, once crying because Valentino made him come and then put Marc’s dick in his mouth and made him come again.

Vale doesn’t know if it’s been an hour or if it’s been five since he last fucked Marc. Will he be able to get it up? He’d better. He needs to.

He holds Marc down on the bed with one hand at the back of Marc’s neck and with the other fishes around on the floor for the blister pack of pills. He gets one out with a near-steady hand and swallows it dry. Should work in twenty minutes, but Valentino has always burned through things fast, so it will be less.

Marc sees but ignores this. Valentino gets back on top of him and yanks his boxer-briefs down, nothing else. Marc says, “Ah—shit,” and arches his back.

Valentino leans up and spreads his ass, spits on his hole. He can already feel himself starting to get hard; the pill wasn’t needed after all. Ah, well. Funny story later. His brain says that loudly over the feeling of sex: Funny story later. And, Someone is dead. He was dreaming. Water dripping. Marc on his bed here in Tavullia, first mask-like, now under him, moaning and twisting when Vale bites the back of his neck.

Valentino wants to pound into him: ball-slapping, basic porn stuff. It is sort of crazy how he cannot stop thinking about it over and over, all night, not missing a moment. Marc was asleep a lot of the time, so Vale just watched him and wanted it, grinding his teeth, enjoying the wait — and waiting to need a break, to need a minute, a coffee, a nap. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, just knows he did sleep because of the nightmare. Marc under the line of his body bucks and says Valentino’s name.

Valentino rests his chin on Marc’s shoulder, and tries not to show that he’s breathless from holding Marc down the way Marc wants. He says into the shell of Marc’s ear, “Where did you go, hm? Have you been wandering around?”

And Marc laughs — a wheeze under Valentino’s body, as heavy as he can make it for Marc — and moans and says, eyes shut, “You were only asleep for twenty minutes.”

#a liiiittle too long but i'm trying!!#rosquez #marc #vale #my fic #anon ask replies #me today in the office kitchen writing mental illness roquez sex on my phone and deciding i needed to go home sick. lol my god what a week

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mayrose713 · 2 days ago

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Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 10

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

Warning: Smut First time I've ever written smut, so I'm sorry if it sucks (I'm updating the warnings in the series masterlist so this is the only other warning for smut from here on out)

Also want to let everyone know that with holiday seasons coming up, work is getting busier and I'm gonna be working more days than my normal here soon so it's gonna be a bit harder to write. I promise to update as often as possible and I'm gonna start adding dates next to the upcoming chapters in the masterlist on when they should be posted so refer to that.

thank you everyone for reading, now enjoy

Chapter 10

“How was it?” Jisung asks after Y/n walks out of the office he was waiting for her in front of as she was talking with her therapist and psychiatrist and he can see the signs that she’s been crying which doesn’t surprise him.

“Weird.” She sniffles, wiping her nose with a tissue. “They asked me a lot of mental health questions mostly, and they want to put me on anti anxiety meds for sure and maybe antidepressants.”

“It’s not too bad.” He takes her hand to lead her back to the lobby where Chan is waiting for them. “I was put on the same when I first started coming here. Still take the anxiety ones actually.”

“Really?” She looks at him surprised.

“Yeah.” He nods his head. “I was homeschooled as a kid so I didn’t socialize as much as I should have and it caused a lot of anxiety because of it. The only reason I know Chan and Changbin is because my dad worked for their dads originally. Really they were my only friends back then.”

“Good to know.” She nods, frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just realized I don’t actually know a lot about all of you guys, or how you all came to be.” She whispers, looking at the floor.

“Well feel free to ask questions whenever, we‘ll be happy to answer.” He squeezes her hand as they walk out into the lobby and Chan looks up at them.

“You okay?” Chan stands as the two walk up to him and he pulls her into his side.

“Yeah, it was just a lot.” She hands him the paper for her anti-anxiety prescription.

The alpha looks over it and sighs but understands and reads the note about possible antidepressants but they want to have more sessions with her to determine that.

“I’m gonna ask you like I had asked Ji when they wanted to prescribe him this too.” He moves her to look at him. “Do you want to be put on medication? Do you think it will actually help you?”

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never taken stuff like this before.” She stutters. “But I’m wary because of the injections.” She then looks over at Jisung. “Does it help you?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He smiles at her. “I feel like I’m able to get through the day easier with it. And don’t worry, it’s nothing like how the injection was.”

Y/n nods her head still thinking about it and Chan tilts her head to look up at him. “Hey, you can try them out for a bit and if you don’t like how they make you feel or don’t think they’re helping then we can slowly get you off of it.” He reassures her. “We did that with Jisung for his antidepressants.”

“Okay.” She whispers. “I’ll try it.”

Chan goes and gets the prescription sent in to be picked up at the pharmacy in Stayville and picks it up on their way home.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Baby girl.” Chan stops the omega as she walks past his room and motions for her to come in. “I’ve noticed you’ve been in your head since we got home, talk to me.” He shuts the door after she walks in.

She sighs as he leads her to sit on his bed. “I just realized today that I don’t actually know a lot about all of you.”

“That’s all?” He watches her closely as she nods her head. “Baby, all you have to do is ask us questions and we’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Can you tell me about your family and where you came from?” She asks shyly. “I remember Minho telling me that Hannah visits from Australia a lot. And Dr. Hajoon was calling you Chris.”

“Yeah.” He smiles and laughs a little as he sits next to her. “My English name is Christopher. I was born here but was mostly raised in Australia. My dad went back and forth from there and here to help Changbin’s dad run the company. His dad retired so he and I handle the Korean office while my dad still runs the one there.”

The omega nods as she listens. “Your brother is an omega. What about Hannah? And your parents?”

“Lucas is our only omega in my family pack too.” He smiled at her. “My dad is an alpha and so is Hannah. My mom is a beta.”

“Would we ever be able to go visit Australia?” She whispers.

“Of course.” He lifts her head to look at him. “As a pack we own a vacation house there so that Felix and I are able to visit our families often.”

Y/n’s jaw dropped. “How did I not realize that Felix is also Australian?”

“I don’t know, baby.” He laughs a bit. “Felix and I have known each other since we were kids. I taught him Korean and after I had moved and gotten settled here with Changbin, Jisung and Seungmin we moved him here.”

“Ji said you guys were the only friends he had since his dad worked for yours.” She looks over his facial features. “How did everyone else come into the pack?”

“Well, Seungmin and I went to high school together here. I was his senior.” He smiles as she listens closely. “He was a bit unsure of himself when he realized we were fated. I had to go up to him first and tell him about Changbin and Jisung, who I was living with and tell him about Felix back home.”

“Minho had run into Jisung at a caffe not far from the office. At the time Minho was a backup dancer for BTS but after meeting Ji and wanting to court him since he was his fated mate, he decided to stay in Seoul and started teaching dance. And Ji convinced him to meet the other four of us as he knew we were his fated mates too.”

“Min was a backup dancer for BTS?” Y/n gawks. “I don’t believe it.”

“Look up some of their live performances, you’ll see.” And she makes a mental note to do so later. “Hyunjin and Jeongin met each other in school and knew they were each other's fated mates. Hyunjin had started taking classes from Min and even though they both realized they were fated mates, Jinnie was too scared of Minho to talk to him about it and Min wasn’t about courting his student.”

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at how cute the whole situation is. “So how did it finally happen?”

“Felix.” Chan smirks. “Changbin had dropped him off at the studio one day to bring Minho lunch and Hyunjin fell in love at first sight. After that Lix made Jinnie and Min talk and Hyunjin told them about Jeongin and they told him about the rest of us.”

“That’s all really cute.” The omega gushes. “Best story ever.”

“I don’t know.” He grins at her mischievously. “I think my favorite story is the one about how we met our omega.” He grabs her pulling her onto his lap so she’s straddling him causing her to blush.

“Channie.” She pouts as he holds her hips and Y/n can’t help but to glance down at his lips, thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.

Y/n starts to wonder if they’re gonna claim her soon or not, thinking back to what her brother had told her, about them possibly just using her.

“You’re thinking too much, baby girl.” The alpha grips her hips a bit tighter causing her to whine a little. “Just say it.”

“Please.” She looks back and forth from his eyes to his lips.

“You’ve gotta say it.” She continues to pout though and he lightly spanks her ass. “Come on baby, I don’t know what you’re wanting if you don’t speak up.”

“Please claim me, alpha.” She sounds disparate.

“Fuck.” He growls, pulling her down to kiss her lips. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

The kiss is heated and passionate, he smirks at the small wines she’s making. He spanks her again causing her to gasp and the alpha takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past her lips. She doesn’t try to fight back with her tongue, already submitting to him.

He pulls away from the kiss and starts trailing kisses down her jaw to her neck, relishing in the little sounds she makes. He groans into her neck when she bucks her hips against him, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Chan buries his nose into her scent gland before switching their positions so she’s on the bed and he’s hovering above. One arm next to her head to keep himself up and the other lightly trailing up her bare thigh to the bottom of her skirt.

“Are you sure about this, baby girl? Because once we start, I’m not stopping.” He looks into Y/n’s eyes, seeing how desperate and needy she already is as she nods her head. “Words baby, I need you to use your words.”

“Yes alpha, I’m sure.”

“Good girl.” He growls as he pushes her skirt up and cups her sex, feeling how damp her underwear is. “Fuck, my little omega, you’re already so wet.”

Y/n covers her face with her hands in embarrassment as he continues to rub her through her panties letting out little whines and moans.

“Don’t hide from me.” Chan grabs both of her wrists with one hand and moves them from her face and pins them above her head. “There she is, my beautiful girl.”

“Channie.” Y/n bucks her hips against his hand. “You’re teasing.”

“Am I?” He fake pouts at her before taking his hand away from her and she whines and squirms as he still holds her in place. “What’s wrong? I thought you didn’t want me to tease you? So I stopped.”

“Chan, please.” And with a smirk at her begging he lets go of her wrists, moving his hands to her blouse and takes it off and raises a brow at her bare chest. “No bra? Tsk, naughty girl.”

“Took it off when we got home.” Y/n pants. “It was uncomfortable.”

“Of course it was.” He coos, kissing her lips again and cups her boob, squeezing it a little before playing with her nipple.

She arches her back, moaning into his mouth as she starts pulling at his shirt trying to get it off. Chan sits back pulling the shirt over his head and she ogles him, eyes roaming over every muscle of his torso. She then notices the bulge in his jeans, sitting up she unbuttons them as he smiles while watching her, helping take his pants off leaving him in his boxers.

Chan grabs the waistband of her skirt, pulling it down along with her panties before pushing her to lay back down as he looks over her.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, moving his fingers to play with her slit before pushing a finger in causing her to bite her lip. “You’re so tight, baby. If you can’t take my finger, how are you gonna take my cock?”

“I can take it.” The omega moans as he starts to finger her. “Please alpha, I can, I promise.”

“Let me prep you first.”

He pushes a second finger in and makes a come hither motion and she arches her back once again grabbing onto his arm as he speeds up his fingers.

“Channie, please.” Y/n whimpers as he pulls his fingers out of her pussy, bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste her slick.

“Mmm, you tastes so good. Gonna have to eat you out sometime.” He wastes no time sliding his boxers off before leaning over her, lining up with her. “This might hurt a little, but I promise it will get better, just let me know if it gets to be too much.”

“Okay.” Y/m whispers and gasps when he starts to push in.

When Chan feels some resistance he gives a hard thrust, completely bottoming out inside her causing her to moan a little in pain and pleasure. He stays still, looking at her face to check she’s okay and wipes away a tear from her eye.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.” The omega whimpers before grinding against him. “Please move.”

Chan pulls out a bit before thrusting back in causing her to gasp again as he moves. Her expression soon changed from that of a bit of pain into pleasure.

“You’re so tight, baby girl.” He grunts as her hands go to his shoulders, claws coming out and start digging into his skins as she becomes a moaning mess under him.

“Please alpha, more.” And he speeds up his rhythm, rutting into her as he looks down to where they are connected seeing just how well she’s taking him.

When he sees some blood, which shockingly didn’t make her feel bad for hurting her but turned him on more knowing he’s taken her innocence and now belongs to the pack, to him. The sight of it causes him to harden his thrust and he grabs her hands from his shoulders placing them next to her head and holds them.

“Channie… ah.” Y/n squeezes his hands, head turning to the side as her eyes close, her walls clamping around him.

“Fuck.” He growls, loving the sound her slick makes around his cock. “You close baby?”

She nods in desperation and the knot at the base of his cock starts to swell. “Please, Chan, so close. Want your knot, please. Please claim me.”

Chan nuzzles into her neck for a moment smelling at her scent gland before biting down hard, teeth breaking the skin as he tastes her blood. She screams and cums around him, shaking in pleasure, her juices squirting everywhere making a mess of both of them and the bed. She thought the bite would hurt but instead she just feels a flood of his love and emotions for her.

He stays latched onto her neck riding out her pleasure before his knot inflates all the way and he releases his load into her. His knot keeps him locked in as his cum fills her up, some spilling out around his cock. It isn’t until she’s milked him dry that he lets go of her neck, licking his lips of her blood.

Y/n gazes up at him looking fucked out as he lets go of one of her hands to push some of her hair out of her face. “You did so good, baby girl.”

“Wanna bite you too.” The omega whimpers as she tries to move but his knot still hasn’t softened, keeping him in place.

Chan leans down, giving her access to his neck, the side with only three mate marks and she bites down just under the bottom one. He groans in pleasure and lets her stay there as long as she wants.

Once she lets go she looks up at him, eyes full of love. “My alpha.”

“That’s right baby.” He coos and kisses her lips. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too.”

______________________________________________________________

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myringtoe · 1 day ago

Text

stairway to heaven 🪽 | lnds men

pairing: zayne x fem!reader, xavier x fem!reader, sylus x fem!reader, rafayel x fem!reader (separate)

cw: talk of spiritual beings and religion.

a/n: the basic premise of this one is that mc is an angel…like a biblical angel. i’ve had this idea for years so this is HIGHLY self indulgent. :3 i’d also love to expand on this if anyone would be interested in that. :)

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

just to preface this, this is kinda based on an oc of mine. but i’ve worded it so it’s still reader pov. :)

zayne 𓇢𓆸

legit didn’t believe you at first.

you’re gonna have to show him, full wings and everything for him to believe you.

so when you do show him, he’s astounded. zayne thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, while also being confused. he has so many questions.

one of the only times you’ll see this man speechless.

once you’ve explained how you came to live on earth, and how everything else works, he really doesn’t care about your supernatural-ness.

all he cares about is him getting to be with you, he doesn’t care what you are.

would be so worried about accidentally hurting your wings.

when you give him a feather from your wings that naturally fell off, he almost cries. it means so much to him. he puts it on his desk at work in its own little area.

whenever someone asks what it’s from, he lies and says it’s from a rare bird he saw while he was in another country.

xavier ☆

he LOVES it.

when you show him your angel form, he’s freaking out. (in a good way)

the minute you show your wings, he’s asking if you to take him flying some time. (if you say no, he gets pouty)

believes you’re the most stunning creature in the universe. will NOT stop complimenting you.

is so curious about your abilities as an angel.

then comes the questions about your origins and how you came to earth. when you answer, he’s completely fascinated.

genuinely thinks this is one of the coolest things to ever happen to him. his girlfriend is an ACTUAL ANGEL for christs sake! (see what i did there? ;))

is practically begging to touch your wings. he’s extra careful around the high points/bones of them. his touch is feather-light against them.

any time you’re in your angel form, he just stares at you in awe. he can’t believe that someone as divine as you, chose to be with him.

sylus 𖦹

another speechless one.

is terrified of “ruining” you. (as he puts it)

he thinks that because you’re angel, that he’s somehow going to ruin your angelic “innocence”.

to which you then have to explain to him that that’s literally never going to happen because that’s not how it works.

he felt like he didn’t deserved you before, now he feels like he REALLY doesn’t. this guy needs so much reassurance that he does deserve you.

(sorry if sylus is a little ooc)

after you’ve explained everything to him. he just wants to shower you with love. telling you how beautiful and amazing you are.

leads to a very lovely and very long night. ;)

he’s hyping himself up a little bit too, like ‘there’s an actual angel in my presence, and she wants ME.’

super protective of you after you tell him. he knows you’re fully capable of defending and protecting yourself, but he 1. doesn’t want others to find out and try to blackmail or take advantage of you, and 2. doesn’t want the people of the N109 zone to try and take the one good thing he has in his life.

let’s be honest, sylus has a cocky and confident attitude, which is admirable. but on the inside, he needs SO much reassurance. (which isn’t a bad thing)

rafayel 𓆝

this little shit.

he feels like he finally has someone he can relate to. with him being a sea god and all.

a mermaid and an angel…what a pair.

showing him your angel form was a mistake.

because now he wants to use you as a muse for every single painting.

literally one of the first things he asks is if he can use you for one of his paintings.

people would ask him who the person in the painting was, and with a totally serious face he would say:

“my angel girlfriend. :)”

and no one would actually believe that you were an angel, so it’s like a little inside joke between the two of you.

but seriously, he feels like he can trust you with his secret so much more, because he knows you’re hiding one too.

rafayel would of course ask the typical questions, to which you’d answer honestly.

he’s probably the most chill about it out of all of them. because he’s a “divine” being himself. while he may not have wings, he does have a fish tail and can breathe underwater.

he understands you the most out of the four.

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lads zayne #zayne x reader #xavier love and deepspace #lads xavier #xavier x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #sylus x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #lads x reader #lads #lads mc

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 2 days ago

Text

It hurts to feel, to think, to know I may be nothing

(a kind of fix-it for 8x06)

The knocking on his door is insistent, almost angry.

Tommy looks at the alarm clock next to his bed. The glowing digits, the only and quite pale light in the room, show 2:45 am. Who would knock on his door at this hour? There's this little tiny heart stumble that gives him a name in response, which he immediately suppresses. Tommy, who is lying on his bed fully dressed and can't sleep anyway, just hopes it's not him. Not … Buck. He couldn't bear that, not now. No pleading from those Bambi eyes, no broken voice with a stutter worse than ever. He wouldn't be able to look at the man and think of him as detached as he had called him when he left, he wouldn't be able to see anything other than Evan, and that would be wrong. Tommy weighed this thought back and forth in his head, trying to make it somehow more correct.

The knocking is still energetic, it just won't stop. Tommy sighs. He considers just lying there, playing dead and staring at the ceiling until whoever is at the door leaves. But if it's Evan, if it really is him, then he can be trusted to knock all night. Or to try to break down the door. Although... No, he wouldn't do that. Unless he was drunk. Tommy remembers the story of when the Bachelor party got out of hand and a door was kicked in. His thoughts go round in circles, and he sighs again. It sounds theatrical in his empty bedroom, but that's the way it is. He slowly gets up, swings his legs out of bed and shuffles to the door.

This little stab in his heart, which is not relief but disappointment, is pathetic. It’s not Evan, of course not.

It’s Eddie.

Definitely, the first thing Evan would do is go to Eddie. Then, probably in the early morning, to Bobby. Or to his sister. Heck, he’ll see all his friends because he can; and that thought somehow hurts even more. Tommy isn't afraid that Evan will make him look like a bad guy. He has every right to grieve and seek comfort. It's just that he can. From whom does Tommy find comfort?

In any case, Eddie, who looks a little disheveled and a little drunk with his red cheeks, doesn't exactly appear like someone who wants to console him.

“Have you checked the time?” Tommy asks gruffly.

“I did, but have you checked your brain?”

Eddie taps him on the forehead with two fingers, then pushes past him without being asked, casually dropping onto the couch in the living room.

“This isn't the best time, Eddie,” Tommy says wearily. Yes, he is tired, even if he can't sleep.

“Might be. But that's what this is all about, isn't it?”

That hurts, and Tommy feels anger building behind his forehead, which will be a decent headache in a few hours. Unshed tears, that's how Abby used to call it. Abby, with whom everything began and somehow everything ended. All the shame and anger about himself make Tommy's muscles tense.

“Don't think you’d understand.”

Tommy stands there with his arms crossed, defensive, as he has been all his life, but Eddie is not impressed. Of course not, why would he. Eddie has told him stories of Afghanistan and the dirt he's been through. One man’s defensive attitude hardly impresses him.

“Why not?”

“Because you've never been in that situation, quite simply.”

“Oh, so you want to use my non-existent queer experience against me, do you? Shallow.”

Tommy lets out a long breath and growls, “What exactly do you want, Eddie?”

“I want to know why.”

A simple sentence, a simple statement, but Tommy feels like he's been deflated. He searches for words, but they are hard to find.

“Listen,” he finally says, ”I know you're here as E… as Buck’s friend. That’s sweet, but…”

“That's true,” Eddie replies surprisingly soberly, ”but I'm also here as your friend. Sometimes we need our people to tell us we're being silly.”

Of course, he speaks from experience. That's kind of the point, and now it's bursting out of Tommy.

“I managed well on my own for years,” he says, the words tumbling out of his mouth. “I've been through it all, the self-denial, the shame, the half-hearted relationships. Evan will never have to experience that, and I'm grateful for that. But still... this guy just stumbled into my life, no, rather rolled through it like a steamroller.”

"He broke your barriers," Eddie interrupts him.

Tommy gives him a look. Eddie actually understands. Why is he so surprised? Tommy doesn't give away his friendship lightly, and Eddie is more profound than he pretends to be. Or even than his friends sometimes think. Which, by the way, is also true of Evan, which is where he starts chasing his own tail, right?

“He did. And he comes with a lot of luggage.”

“Oh yes,” Eddie laughs. Then, he narrows his eyes, watching Tommy intently. “Wait, you don’t mean his past and all?”

Tommy drops into the armchair opposite the sofa and shakes his head.

“We... actually didn't really talk much about the past. It was more like...”

“The heat of the moment?”

Tommy doesn’t have to ponder about that, because it’s true. Every new relationship is like this, everything is exciting and full of icing. You don't use the time you have with questions. They didn't have much time, that's the curse of shift work and a life as a first responder.

“Suddenly, half a year has passed,” he says with wonder. “And then he says he wants to move in with me.”

“Were you afraid of the next step?”

The way Eddie phrases this question tells him that Evan hasn't fully understood what happened. He's sorry for that, but he's sorry for so much, it's just more grief on top of a big pile of sorrow.

“I'm just afraid of losing my heart,” Tommy returns, and strangely enough, Eddie laughs again.

“Do you think that's funny?”

Eddie raises his hands defensively, “What I actually find funny is that you lost your heart a long time ago, Tommy. You left the man standing outside the restaurant and gave him a second chance anyway. You’re the first contact in his phone. You're the one with the ice packs, the one who buried his stupid curse with him.”

“You would have done all that too.”

“Sure, except for the part about the funeral maybe, but only because Buck and I are on terms where you can tell your friend that he's being stupid. You, on the other hand... you have heart eyes when you see him. You stroke his hand in passing, you hold back on the kisses when anybody is around only to protect him.”

“You noticed that?”

“I noticed a few things,” says Eddie. “Especially that Buck feels the same way about you. There comes a point in every relationship when you take off your rose-tinted glasses. The only mistake you've made is convincing yourself that this will end anyway.”

“But it will,” Tommy replies dispassionately.

“Because you're his first? That's stupid, Tommy.”

“What would you know about it?” Tommy replies heatedly.

Eddie tilts his head, “Didn't you listen when I told you about Shannon? I married my first love. I know what you're thinking, of course, it didn't end well, yada yada. But it wasn't because we didn't love each other, Tommy. We were very young and very stupid, and it hurts me to see two grown men like you, who also love each other very much, behaving so stupidly.”

Tommy sinks down in his chair.

“He acts impulsively,” he interjects. “He doesn't know what he's getting himself into, and in the end, when he understands that he needs more, he'll leave. And that will hurt a lot more.”

“Maybe,” Eddie says and stands up. As unasked as he came in, he steps up to Tommy's fridge and rummages through it for a can of beer. Then he points it at Tommy and says, “But not having loved will hurt more. Being too much of a coward hurts.”

“I'm not a coward.”

“Yes, you are, because you're running away from your own feelings. And not even giving Buck the chance to prove to you that he's worth brightening up your lonely life.”

“Now you sound like a guy in a soap opera,” Tommy says sourly.

“Nah, I sound like someone who has screwed up so much in his life that he should be the last person to give advice to others. But this is Buck we're talking about, and he's just a whining misery sleeping on my couch. And it’s about you, a friend I’m fond of.”

He takes a deep sip and grimaces.

“I think you've had enough for today,” says Tommy.

“Guess you're right.”

Eddie gets up, and to his credit, it has to be noted that he doesn't sway. Or just a little bit.

“Let me summarize the whole mess like this: you fucked up, Buck doesn't understand why, and honestly I don't quite get it either. But what I do understand is that you should work it out together. Tomorrow morning… no wait, in a couple of hours. Sleep, then come over, and bring breakfast.”

“I don't know if that's such a good idea.”

The worst part is that there is a certain hopefulness in Tommy's voice, it almost cracks. Evan hasn't done anything wrong, and it's probably only right that he at least tells him that. Even if it hurts. Because Eddie is actually right - it will hurt no matter what, and it's better to love than to grieve over a love that could never evolve.

“But I do.”

There is so much confidence in Eddie's voice. Something has happened to him, and one day Tommy will ask him about it. Now he holds on to his own door and nods weakly.

“Let me sleep on it,” he says.

Eddie winks at him as he leaves.

#writing #fanfiction #sort of a fix-it #911 fanfiction #911 8x06 fix it #BuckTommy #tevan #kinley #Tommy Kinard #Evan Buckley #buck x tommy #Eddie Diaz

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lovemesomeagnst · 23 hours ago

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What’s fiddleford and Stans relationship like in your au??

Fiddleford and Stanley sort of embody the roles of Julia and Carmen in this au!

Since Fiddleford is Ford’s partner, I thought it’d make super sense for him to be the one doubtful over Stan’s “misdeeds” because he believes there’s more to it while Ford is so adamant that his brother is wrong and needs to be caught. I figured Stan would find Fiddleford charming and amusing just like how Carmen was always open to seeing Julia.

Depending on the stage of the au, there would be moments where Fiddleford first attempts to capture Stanley because it’s what he believes he should do but as time goes on it grows into more ‘lowkey trying to stop him but actually just wants to see him cause curious by motives and intrigued’.

Stan definitely views Fiddleford as the fun part of any chase because he’s less rash like Ford and more open to try and understand Stan’s perspective. Plus he takes the opportunity to toss a flirting pick-up line or gesture whenever. I feel like Fiddleford knowing about Stan from Ford would want to try and understand both twins and so he approaches Stan a bit friendlier when he realises that Stan isn’t a bad person like his brother claims.

Also Stan trusts Fiddleford enough to hand him over the things he steals for safekeeping and also trusts him enough to involve him in some of his capers should he needs so.

There was also an instance where Stan accidentally breaks into Fiddleford’s home in Palo Alto, California and he runs into Emma-May and Tate. (Like that one scene where Carmen accidentally runs into a family’s home in Rio). When he looks at the pictures hanging on the walls he realises he’s in Fiddleford’s house and apologised profusely and positively influences Tate and adores the short interaction he has with the boy. They don’t really know who he is though. Later, Tate would tell his father about it and Fiddleford would be surprised but pleased that Stanley treated his family well. Stan knowing Fiddleford has a wife would lead to him backing off his flirting advances on Fiddleford the next time they encounter each other.

Also like in the show there’s this brief period where Fiddleford leaves his job to pursue a more peaceful one to cope with the Memory Gun incident with Emma-May (I have lore for this). His relationship with her has already been strained but the incident really broke things and he needed time off to process everything. Stan visits him sometimes to check up on him. Stan also checks in on Tate occasionally and dotes on him after the divorce between Fiddleford and Emma-May. I believe around this stage they get closer since Fiddleford isn’t actively trying to catch him anymore and Stan starts to know more about Fiddleford’s personal life while Fiddleford gets to know more about Stan outside his capers. Stan obviously has a soft spot for Fiddleford so he is gentle and charming and sweet towards him, respecting Fiddleford’s boundaries after the divorce.

Around that stage Fiddleford starts realising that he likes Stan a lot and could possibly want to be more than a friend (because they’re basically friends at that point) and Stan starts flirting back and after like Fiddleford gets more comfortable obviously. Stan has always sorta knew he liked Fiddleford because how could he not but he never really addresses it cause he doesn’t really know if there’s ever a proper time to. They sorta know they both like the other because it’s so obvious so then I guess they’re in a mutual I like you phase but haven’t acted on it yet.

Then everything goes bad when Stan gets brainwashed like how Carmen got brainwashed to become evil. In my au this happens through the use of the Memory Gun that had fallen into the wrong hands (much like how Stan lost his memory in canon but this ain’t some sacrifice against a triangle demon unfortunately). Fiddleford would be devastated and at that point really comes to terms that he does, really, superbly, loves Stan and works with Ford and Team Red and the others to bring him back obviously.

Once that whole debacle ends Stan and Fiddleford would talk things out together and work it out!!

Then they kiss!!

Some fiddlestan art I already posted here

#csxgf au #gravity falls x carmen sandiego au #gravity falls #gravity falls aus #Stan pines #Stanley pines #gravity falls stanley #fiddleford mcgucket #gravity falls fiddleford #fiddlestan #there’s plot im cooking up with this au #pls ask me more about it guys

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ladyloveandjustice · 3 days ago

Text

I want to expand on what I'm talking about. And I said a little bit extra in the comments:

There's just some posts that have been going around about how to solve the issue of men swinging real right in America right now,which does have an impact on society. some guy was saying he was attacted to the right bc they were all 'welcome brother' but in the left people resent him. I think it's just. It's easier to go to an idealogy that's like 'you're entitled to this' than an idealogy that says 'hey you're not entitled to everything but you could be more emotionally healthy and kinder to other people and". That's something simply being nice or making them feel good won't ever fully fix. The "rewards" for being in the right will always feel more immediate for white men.

It's not unique to men to feel alienated in an idealogy that wants you to challenge yourself. At the same time, more kindness to everyone, emphasis on acceptance, less volatile language toward each other, will help the community be stronger over all. it is a difficult conundrum, but I don't think it comes down to 'we don't make men feel special enough

It also ignores I think, that white men DO get rewarded in leftist spaces too. a lot. Men will get a ton of adoration for saying something vaguely feminist than if a woman says it a lot of the time, and so on a so forth, everyone loves a sweet guy...I think that's something that already happens.

But let's get back to volatile language:

We always say guilt isn't going to help anyone and it isn't about guilt. But I think we need to admit that no, we do try to make people feel guilty and ashamed a lot. And not framing it around that most of the time would do a lot.

I've seen posts straight up saying it's a bad thing to want to survive and live happy lives and take actions to do this because (x) bad thing is happening. You know, the most basic human instinct? And that's not going to win over people. You may not like that, but it's not.

I don't think that needs to center on women helping men feel special about themselves. A lot of us are asked to take care of men all the time and it's exhausting. Men on the left can focus on being more positive about the concept of manhood if they want, but asking women to do the work. is just....yeah that's just the patriarchy.

I do think examining things like black masculinity etc is great though. If you have another marginalized identity, it will intertwine with masculinity in very specific ways that will be used against you, just as it is with femininity or being outside both those concepts (yet the world assigns you one anyway). I totally get that masculinity is used as a weapon against both gay men and gay women, in different specific ways. And I think at least learning about that and supporting efforts to stop this makes one a better person.

On the other hand. it would be insane of me to ask a Black woman to make a Black man feel special and accepted for simply being a man if she doesn't want to do that. Like. absolutely wild.

And it's it's rarely about that, is it? When we say "celebrate men" it's not bringing any unique experience into it. It's about white men. They're the ones who make up most of the alt-right.

Communities in the right are not compassionate but because they offer some form of reward and companionship they can seem like that. As much as people are lured in by "welcome brother" or whatever, those same people will on the right will mock any person who steps outside the strict roles that have been set.

So....we need to abolish to same roles. I think we need to focus on how we talk to people. On supporting people when they're trying.

It also comes off in how we talk to each other about basically I can harshly tell someone who has privilege over me-- a white man or straight person ect ect-- their guilt about their privilege does nothing, I'm not interested in guilt and what we need is action. But let's be real. Telling someone "you benefit from a system that makes other people suffer" is going to make someone feel guilty. And yelling at someone for feeling guilty isn't going to make that better. I think we avoid saying the truth and say what's the core of it-- no, it's not your fault you were born a certain way and now you benefit from something. A society hundreds of years in the making made that happen. And that sucks, that you basically have no choice but to be complicit. And it sucks way, way more for the people who are kept down by that system. So we need to change society. We can do it together. It's not to "make up" for you existing. It's because we care about each other. I want this for all of us, because when we see each other as whole people and are treated equally, it benefits all of us.

This is a not a "men are uniquely punished by the left for being men, we need to celebrate masculinity, stop being so mean" thing. It's a human thing. It's about the way we talk to each other and try to weild guilt towards people in general. People want to feel good about themselves. They want some kind of acceptance. If you're constantly made to feel bad, it can be hard to want to stay. This is something everyone feels, because we all have a selfish instinct.

People don't like feeling guilty. That's just how people are. It's promoting compassion, rather than hatred and resentment, that's going to help us in the end.

But me simply saying that isn't going to change much. Humans feel hurt and lash out too. When horrible things are happening to us, we resent people that don't understand that or are part of that. The paradigm shift will be hard. Not everyone will be able to do it and I don't think that's wrong.

Everyone gets frustrated by a class of people where a lot of them have more power and try to push them down. Nobody wants to talk to someone that's trying to hurt them.

That's why it needs to be someone like me who could explain racism 101 rather than idk. making a person of color say 'well white people don't feel special and accepted for being white. poc we must be nicer. let's celebrate whiteness because the right does and that's why white people are drawn to it, they feel accepted." listen to how ridic that sounds. you are literally asking for a white history month. That's the same thing you're doing when you're talking about manhood like this. The onus is not on the discriminated group to reach out to those harming them. That's up to others in the community.

But as a broader thing...We just need to figure out what the end game is. Do we want to yell and guilt trip, or do we want more people in our corner? What's more important, the end goal or if someone knows all the right lingo or matches up to your opinions exactly? What do we need to rally around? How can we take care of each other? If we're kinder to the community, more people will follow.

Anyway this is the last time i'll say some big thing like this and tag it. I don't like doing this on tumblr for a reason.

#nev talks

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oumaheroes · 23 hours ago

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Talk dover to me <3

'How hot is it?'

'It's hot.'

'Is it hot enough for me.'

'Francis, get the fuck in.' Arthur sat up and back further in the tub to make room, 'Stop looking at me like that; get in and shut the bloody door. You're letting all the heat out.'

'Oh, I thought it was hot enough.'

Arthur raised his eyes to the heavens and sank back lower into the water.

Francis shut the door and turned back to glare at him, 'You're taking up all the room.'

'You took too long.'

'Move.'

'I will when you get in.'

'You're insufferable. This is supposed to be relaxing. I'm supposed to enjoy this.' In a swift movement, Francis shucked off his (overly) fluffy bathroom, ‘Get out of the way.’

‘I will when you get in.’

Francis stepped one foot fully into the water with a wince and Arthur grinned, ‘Too hot?’

‘Arthur, I swear to God I will sit on your legs.’

‘I took the tap side for you.’

‘I appreciate the weaponry to hand. Move.’

Before Arthur could retort, Francis stepped fully into the tub and Arthur had to swiftly moved his legs out of the way to avoid tendon damage.

‘Look, you’ve flooded us.’ Arthur said, eyeing up the overflow along the tub’s rim from the wave made by Francis’ entrance. ‘That better not go through the carpet to the floorboards, we can’t afford to redo them after the kitchen.’

‘I’m surprised you have enough heart and feeling in your stingy heart to allow us to have this much water.’ Francis sank as deep as he could go, knees sharp mountains in the water, and closed his eyes, ‘Ugh, it’s been too long since I’ve had a bath. I needed this.’

‘Hmm.’ Arthur pulled one of Francis’ feel forwards to massage his calf, firm circles with his thumbs, ‘It’s rarely cold enough to be worth it.’

‘That’s a terrible opinion.’ Francis cracked open an eye, looking just behind Arthur and to the right, ‘As is the need to have the window open.’

‘I like the contrast.’

Francis shook his heard and closed his eyes again, ‘I think I’m going to quit.’

‘Finally.’

‘Yes, well. I had hopes. Growth upwards, more than anything currently improving.’

‘Move on to another station?’

Francis shrugged, ‘The chance for more responsibility. Menu choices, ideally.’

Arthur snorted and moved onto Francis’ other leg, ‘As if David would ever let you do that.’

‘He does for Nikhil.’

‘Nikhil is an arselick.’

‘Nikhil is also the level above. But even then, to just move off vegetables and fish. I hate fish, or I hate cooking fish. The smell gets everywhere.’

‘I don’t mind you smelling like a whore.’

Francis hit him with a sudden splash of water, Arthur catching the grin of his teeth right before he closed his eyes.

‘Stop it. Let me moan; don’t make me laugh.’

‘I would do no such thing willingly.’ Arthur lay back as much as he could with the awkward and hard metal of the tap, lolling his head against the wall with his arm slung over the ceramic to keep him from sliding. ‘Your unhappiness is my entire aim.’

Francis snorted and cupped water in his hands to tip onto the crown of his head, fingers raking through the strands.

‘Are you actually?’ Arthur asked after a moment, his hand going back to the meat of Francis’ calf, then the cool skin of his knee, ‘Going to quit; go somewhere else.’

Francis shrugged. ‘No. Yes. Inside, mentally, I quit ages ago. But today was just...’ he waved a hand lazily, ‘I don’t know how much longer. Not because it’s hard or bad but, what’s the point. Of being stuck somewhere that won’t change, clinging to something that left a long time ago.’

‘True, I-‘

‘Like you with me.’

Arthur froze, a coldness blooming in his stomach to spread like ice through his veins. He pulled his hand away and Francis eyed him, eyes flicking up and down.

‘How many years has it been?’ He asked, ‘Five? Six?’

Arthur tried to speak but managed only a croak. Swallowed, tried again, ‘Seven.’

‘Ah yes, seven.’ Francis looked around the bathroom, at the cracks that Arthur now remembered as being on the ceiling, the damp mildew stains along the tiles to pillow black in the grouting that hadn’t been there a second ago. ‘Too long, my love.’

Arthur couldn’t speak. He reach forwards, through still, tepid water to where Francis still lay bright and whole against clean ceramic and the vibrant colours of years before. His hands met nothing but the smooth other side.

Francis watched him, silent. There was something of pity in his expression, almost readable as contempt. ‘Arthur.’

‘No.’

‘You have to let me go, Arthur.’

‘Francis.’ Arthur pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, keeping the sound of Francis’ voice safe and away from the reality that his eyes could now see, ‘Please.’

‘It’s funny that this is where you see me.’ A soft splash, the gentlest movement of water, ‘Is this the only place that you have left? The last place you can call me back?’

It was. There had been others, especially right at the start. Francis in the kitchen, Francis in bed. Francis draped across the lounge sofa, hair in Arthur’s fingers, his warmth against his side. But the rooms were too large and the truth too heavy, too much to filter with so much space to repaint. As the years fell away, it became harder through the years to recall Francis there for more than a flash, and Arthur always needed more.

The bathroom, small and cramped in their little old flat, was still enough. Arthur could pull their relationship out there and unfurl it like a canvas, run through imaginary tapes of old conversations and quiet little moments to fill the space and coat it completely.

It still felt so real.

‘Your brothers are worried about you.’ Another splash, coming closer, ‘You look at least ten years older than you should.’

‘Stop. Please, don’t.’

‘Keeping me here is taking too much.’ Another splash. Arthur heard something lift out of the water, heard the plink plink plink of droplets falling from something tangible there with him. ‘How much life do you have left to waste on trying to get back the one that you lost?’

Arthur felt Francis’ hand on his cheek, his fingers cold and hard as bone. Arthur’s breath caught and he squeezed his eyes so tightly that he could hear a roaring of blood in his ears.

‘Are you waiting for me to say that I forgive you? Do you keep bringing me back here, dragging me up, because you hope that maybe I’ll say you’re not to blame? And, since I won’t, you instead play happier memories again and again and again-’ Francis squeezed hard, fingers digging in sharp to Arthur’s skin, ‘to avoid that day?’

Arthur tried to shake his head but couldn't, found his whole body was rigid and stuck. He tried to jerk away, kick his legs at the thing holding him there but his legs couldn’t move. The tap pressed sharply into his back, limescale cutting his skin.

‘Oh.’ The thing that still sounded like Francis tutted, ‘If only you hadn’t been drinking.’

A crash, a car. Night time, Coldplay’s Yellow lifting into the darkness as behind him on the verge... Whiskey on Arthur’s breath, he’d been at the limit but still-

The grip tightened, harder against Arthur’s teeth to force the bitter reality past the lie and into his mouth. ‘Didn’t you have just. One. More.’

Finally, Arthur opened his eyes.

It does not take long for flesh to decompose. Especially in the summer, especially when it was already so ruined, so open.

Nothing hung from Francis’ bones, nothing was left of his softness. His beauty vanished when his soul did, leaving only the shell of a thing that sits before Arthur in chilling water: empty darkness between ribs and cheekbones, picked clean by the creatures of the earth that he was returned to.

‘I’m sorry.’ Arthur whispered to it through its fingers, ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

‘I know.’ Francis’ voice is still in his head; the fused jaw did not move, ‘But that doesn't change anything, does it?’

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

AN:

... I... This just happened and did not go quite according to the plan that I had in mind but we're rolling with it

#fruk #aph england #aph france #hws #hws england #hws france #hws fruk #aph fruk #arthur kirkland #francis bonnefoy #aph #heroes writes #heroes answers #APH Dover #HWS Dover

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maddy-k-reads-all-day · 11 hours ago

Text

Thinking about the "Do you Feel Safe Tape"

Honestly we should talk about the different reactions to 'who do you trust' a bit more.

Wooly - Wooly seems surprised that you trust him. I couldn't help but think it's partly because we like seem to like Amanda and Amanda hates him. Also considering Amanda doesn't trust him, he probably hasn't had anyone say they trusted him in a very long time and it was probably shocking. Then Amanda tells us she felt that way a long time ago and Wooly looks sad. I've noticed throughout the game that he seems to get sad whenever Amanda talks about not liking him anymore. He gets immediately sad when Amanda says that you have to think about who you can trust, before she even mentions. I think whatever he did to break her trust, he might actually feel really bad about it. (I can point out other moments he's done this too if you want). But what else is interesting is that Amanda trusted Wooly at some point. She didn't hate him from the start, something happened to change their relationship. I can't help but feel it was "recent" considering the events of the first game. Considering both Amanda and Wooly's reactions to Wooly coming back to life, I'd assume Amanda has never hated Wooly enough before to try killing him. When I say recent, I mean possibly during the years that Kate was watching the tapes and talking with Amanda.

Personally, I think both Amanda and Wooly unintentionally played a part in Kate's death and Hameln finding her. Considering Amanda's reactions to us saying "Hameln" I think they might still be monitoring Amanda and Wooly. I think that by interacting very directly with her (saying her name and stuff) could have helped them discover her identity and put her in danger. Which is not directly related to anything in this post (I mean it could be, but I'd need more evidence). That said, it's possible that him getting in the way of them remembering (once they started to gain back their memories) was exactly why she stopped trusting him. . But I think the important takeaway here is she did trust him at some point, and he feels bad that he broke that trust.

Kate: Amanda trusted Kate, and wishes she could still talk to her. Kate was one of the last people who knew Amanda when she was Rebecca. (well, positive relationships at least) Think about it. Sam is MIA. All the other librarians who knew her are DEAD. Any friends she had in school or whatever are definitely full grown adults if they didn't get trapped in the show (idk, like if they were watching it cuz it was their friends show or whatever). Every person we know who knew Amanda is probably dead now. Kate was the last one. Now that she remembers, she keeps saying she wishes she could still talk to Kate whenever we mention her, and Wooly looks like he feels bad. Now that she remembers who she was. Now that she remembers Rebecca, she wants to talk with Kate, maybe the way they used to. That could be why she's so angry with him. Why she tried to kill him AFTER they found Kate died (in the Wooly's birthday tape) but had only hurt him when they realized Riley was watching the tapes and not Kate (in the original in your neighborhood tape). Wooly might've caused her to miss her chance to talk to one of the few people who knew her as Rebecca. That was recent though, I think she lost trust in him over time as he kept blocking her attempts to reach out to Kate

Sam: She says Sam was trusting too, and that can be a mistake. She sounds so sad here, like she is going to cry. I think this confirms that Amanda doesn't hold any malice towards Sam about what happened. She understands that both of them were tricked. So idk, I guess any theories involving Amanda hating Sam for what happened are debunked now?

Hameln: Saying Hameln immediately makes Amanda stop trusting us. Wooly looks scared of Amanda yelling (as always) but I noticed he also looks kind of angry? Offended? Annoyed? I can't really tell cuz the tape gets really blurry. I've seen people say that Wooly doesn't react to the meatman or Hameln, but I think he does it's just more subtle. I don't know what else to say here, the clip goes by so fast.

Meatman: Again, both of them react to this. Amanda immediately gets pissed. And like, reasonably so. I've heard that the game won't let you progress past this point if you do this apparently, so like... the meatman is serious. Wooly looks shocked and then immediately motions at us not to say that. But like, it's a different surprise then when you answer "Wooly" he seems horrified. Like this is a pretty messed up thing to say. I'm not 100% sure what the meatman's deal is but like... both Amanda and Wooly seem to dislike him in the first and second game. Also is it just me or is it kind of odd that they only dislike the butcher? Like, there are variants of him in all the shops in the first game and Wooly and Amanda don't really seem to mind him, but they both don't like being in the butcher's. When only the meatman's buildings appear, Wooly looks pretty concerned, and then really scared when they enter, and asks her to take them someplace else. Amanda has a full-blown meltdown over not wanting to go in and when we enter she screams at us to let her out. I find this scene interesting because I don't think either of them are in control. Wooly is trying to distract her from Kate's death (or at least that's what I think the "something bad happened" means) by going a bit off-script and controlling the story a little. It doesn't seem like he was the one who messed with the stores. Amanda didn't either. What if this was the meatman? Like... punishing them for going off script by like reminding them of his looming presence or whatever? Idk. That whole scene was WEIRD in hindsight. Even though we never enter the butcher shop in the second game, his presence looms over us the entire time. Almost makes me think he's the real one put in their too keep the kids under control. They are both terrified of him after all and he seems to be connected with the surgeon who trapped them in there. Sorry this got a bit on topic but I think I might be getting somewhere.

But let's move on to the answers for the "what scares you" question.

"Amanda" or "you" - Question, has anyone tried Rebecca? I've only seen the answer compilations use "amanda" or "you". Amanda breaks our heart here by being hurt that after all this time we're still afraid of her. Ouch.

Hameln - Amanda gets terrified and says not to bring them up. I think Hameln is definitely watching these tapes.

Meatman - Wooly finally reacts to something, and bro is freaked out. Idk if it's by the mention of the meatman, Amanda's anger or both. Honestly, I have no idea why her anger spells still freak them out. I guess it is pretty scary, but I feel like he should be used to it at this point. Also she can't kill him, so what is he afraid of? He doesn't seem to be worried about being the one who makes her angry anymore, but he still gets freaked out when we do it? Weird. Anyway, I find it interesting that Amanda has spent the whole first game trying to tell us all about what happened, but she draws the line at the meatman and Hameln. Wooly wasn't there to stop her before, and she still didn't want to discuss it. Honestly, it doesn't feel like she's been as eager to tell us much in this game, despite trusting us. I mean she's told us plenty about Sam and Kate, so I don't think it's that she doesn't trust us. I think she doesn't want to remember things about Hameln or the meatman. She wanted to remember who she was, she wanted to remember Sam, she wanted to remember Kate and she wanted to know what happened to her... but somehow she draws the line here. Then we see the glitches of the surgery room and the mouth. I really do agree with the theories that the meatman is connected with the people who put her and Wooly into the show. That said... why is he there? That's what I don't get. I think I might be cooking with my earlier theory though no?

Wooly - Odd. He doesn't even look hurt, just confused. We can clearly see here that Amanda is not at all afraid of Wooly, so like I don't think he's like a Hameln worker. The meatman absolutely is though. We are not hating on the meatman enough guys. DOWN WITH THAT- Anyway.

Actually the whole point of this post was to talk about what Amanda says about how we were a stranger when we met her. I think this is really important to note. Because Amanda knew Kate long before she was Amanda. Possibly before "Amanda the Adventurer" even came to be. Of course Amanda trusted her. But she didn't know Riley. She tells us that she trusts us. This is HUGE. I mean, considering everything Amanda has been through. She barely knows us. She has EVERY DANG REASON not to trust us. Heck, I think that could be what Wooly means when he says she shouldn't talk to strangers. Because "not talking to strangers" doesn't make sense in this context. The viewer is a stranger, but if they didn't ever interact with the viewer they wouldn't have a show so Wooly's comment makes no sense. And yet, despite everything, she trusts us. Wooly looks kinda sad when she says she trusts us, probably because she trusted him once too, now she won't listen to a thing he says.

Then Joanne (I swear to god I got so mad at her in this scene) calls us and Amanda looks kind of sad when she hears that. Then looks really sad when Joanne says "that thing" I think Joanne was referring to the Wooly monster but Amanda doesn't know that. Then the possum appears and they both get really mad at it (and us for letting it mess with them). It's made very clear that both of them genuinely don't know who this guy is. It's funny because usually Amanda is the one asking us to get rid of him but this time it's Wooly.

And then let's talk about how COORDINATED THESE TWO WERE OMG. All it took was a look and a nod and they were already on the same page. If we don't help them, they manage to beat this guy up all on their own and mind you, not a single word is exchanged of a plan, they just work together. They just do it. And they do it so freaking well. Remember my Hameln theory? About how Hameln doesn't want these two on the same team because you know... two kids who can control demons who have every reason to hate Hameln and then there's THIS. When they get along they work so freaking well together. Could you imagine if they both decided to team up with their demons and beat the crap out of Hameln? Is there even a chance to be stood here? Honestly, I was also thinking, I think Hameln picked whoever Wooly is specifically for his avoidant personality, knowing that these two would clash. But clearly they don't have to.

Oh yeah, then they both get pissed AT US. I don't think we've actually seen Wooly get THIS mad at us. Like there was the time in the storybook tape but like he was not this mad. He's like... Amanda level mad here. Then they pick up the possum and throw him in the trash with still very minimal communication and ALL THE COORDINATION.

Then in the version where we do help, Amanda actually agrees with Wooly's sentiment that some strangers CAN be scary. Then without a word they both pick him up and throw him in the trash. BRO THE COORDINATION BETWEEN THESE TWO WHEN THEY WORK TOGETHER IS INSANE I NEED MORE OF IT ITS SO SMOOTH AND PLEASANT TO WATCH. Then Wooly asks if they can go home and Amanda playfully teases him "What are you scared?" Then he kinda makes this face like "yeah kinda" and she's like "c'mon let's go." she sounds a lot less annoyed with his presence then usual. Like still annoyed but also like she's kinda okay with it?

This deserves it's whole entire own post but like... I feel like gradually their relationship has improved over the course of this game. Like Amanda still doesn't trust him, there's still some rough stuff they need to work through, but she's starting to let him in again. Just a little. She's more okay with him being there. And I think people tend to overlook this when they say Wooly is evil. If Wooly was evil, why are they starting to get along again, (I mean they aren't besties again but like it's definitely a start and you can't ignore that.) Shouldn't Amanda continue to hate his guts? Instead she's actually agreed with him on some things, and they've helped each other out a bit. Like I said this is probably going to get it's own post at some point so I'll leave it here for now.

Holy crap did you actually read all this? OMG thanks. I did not realize I wrote so much WOW. BTW, I was watching those "all answers" videos along with a zero-commentary playthrough of the original so like, I'm not pulling this from memory at all.

#amanda the adventurer #amanda the adventurer 2 #wooly the sheep #amanda the adventurer wooly #amanda the adventurer theory #maddykpost #ata 2 #rebecca colton #sam colton #kate park

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