#every new thing I learn about these monstrosities is just like

[esouliie]

Christmas at the Romanoff’s

(natasha romanoff x reader) & (platonic!yelena belova x reader)

tags | christmas headcanon – friends to lovers, first kiss, fluff and comfort!

notes | hello, pls take this small headcanon as a thank you for reading and supporting all my fics even though i cannot keep up with demand lmao. i promise to do better in the new year. merry christmas! <3

It’s your first Christmas with Natasha, and you quickly discover that the Black Widow is… not exactly a holiday enthusiast. At least, not in the traditional sense. When you first arrived at the apartment she shares with her sister, you were greeted by Yelena’s unholy mix of holiday cheer and chaos. Mismatched ornaments hung precariously from a tree that was way too big for their living room, a plate of burnt cookies sat on the counter, and garish Christmas music blared at an almost concerning volume. Natasha, however, looked like she was about two seconds away from wrapping the excessive lights around her neck.

“I hate Christmas music,” Natasha mutters under her breath as you hang up your coat. Yelena’s halfway through yelling “All I Want for Christmas is You” with a Santa hat perched at an angle on her head. “She’s been doing this for weeks,” she adds, her voice low like it’s some covert confession. It takes you all but twenty minutes to realise that Natasha has a very complicated relationship with Christmas. She doesn’t hate it exactly—she just doesn’t really know what to do with it. With all the joy. When you try to hand her a burnt gingerbread cookie, she looks at it like it’s some kind of alien artifact. “Why would I eat a cookie shaped like a man?” She asks flatly, before breaking it in half like it personally offended her.

She then proceeded to argue how she’d be more likely to eat one of these ‘monstrosities’ if it was shaped like a woman…

But there are little moments where she tries, and it’s adorable in the most understated way. You catch her quietly fixing the crooked ornaments on the tree when she thinks no one’s looking, muttering under her breath about how “the reds need to go next to the greens.” One night, after Yelena goes to bed, you find Natasha scrolling through YouTube tutorials for how to wrap presents, muttering curses in Russian every time the tape sticks to her fingers.

And then there’s the stockings. Yelena insisted everyone have one, even though Natasha grumbled about it. But before you went to bed on Christmas Eve, you noticed that Natasha’s stocking was the most stuffed. There’s a random assortment of things crammed in there—protein bars, an extra pair of thick socks, a tiny first aid kit. You don’t have to ask to know that she filled her own stocking, long before Christmas Eve. The thought makes your heart ache in the sweetest, saddest way. She spent so many holidays alone that it just… became her normal.

Finally, it’s Christmas morning and Natasha is draped over the couch like a cat, one leg tucked under her, watching as you and Yelena clean up the mess from last night. She’s quiet, sipping a mug of tea, but you’ve learned by now that quiet Natasha doesn’t exactly mean unhappy Natasha. In fact, she looks content—eyes crinkling every time Yelena grumbles about your “lack of enthusiasm” in picking up all the decorative pillows.

What really steals the show, though, is the mountain of presents you’ve brought. You didn’t mean for it to get out of hand, but once you started, it was impossible to stop. You’d see something and think, Yelena would love this, or Natasha would smile at that, and next thing you knew, you were hauling six bags into their apartment like some sort of festive mule. When the gift exchange begins, Yelena dives into her pile like a kid on sugar overload. Her laughter is infectious as she opens each one: a set of retro pins for her jacket, a waffle maker, a framed picture of you and her after a mission (that one earns a rare hug). She’s glowing, grinning so wide it’s almost blinding. Natasha just sits there, watching her sister, her fingers loosely holding the edge of the blanket draped over her lap.

You notice she hasn’t opened her gifts yet—not even the ones with her name written in your careful handwriting. You nudge her gently, teasing, “what’s the matter, Romanoff? Afraid you’ll cry if I outdid you?” She gives you a half-smile, the kind that makes your chest ache a little because it’s soft in a way she rarely lets herself be. “Just... enjoying the show” She says, her gaze flicking back to Yelena, who is now holding up a pair of horrible light-up slippers you found at a charity shop.

When Natasha finally opens her gifts, it’s much slower, deliberate. You’re nervous, even though you know she’ll never let you see it if she doesn’t like something. But the small things you picked—a leather journal, a new cream scarf, a rare first edition of a spy novel she once mentioned—earn a quiet “thank you,” each one accompanied by that little smile. It’s the last gift, though, that gets you. It’s a snow globe. Inside, there’s a tiny replica of a mountain standing tall in the heart of Russia, the one Natasha had mentioned missing when she told you about her childhood. The one she only saw once and yet managed to comfort her throughout her life. Her fingers tighten around it, and for a moment, her expression shifts—just enough for you to catch it. Sadness, maybe, or longing.

She doesn’t say much after that. But when you look at her later, as Yelena’s dancing around in her ridiculous slippers and yelling about how she’s making everyone waffles tomorrow morning, Natasha’s looking at you like maybe you’re the best gift she’s ever gotten. And maybe she wouldn’t mind Christmas each year if you were around.

Later that night, you find her in the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate she swore she didn’t want. The two of you stand there in the soft glow of the tree lights, listening to Yelena snore on the couch. “I don’t really get Christmas.” She admits softly, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fake fireplace video Yelena left running on the TV. “But… I think this year was nice.” And when she looks at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips, you know she means it.

Without thinking, you step closer, reaching out to brush a stray curl from her face. “It’s more than nice. I’m so happy.”

And that’s when you hear it—a distant jingle. You glance up, realising Natasha’s holding a tiny branch of mistletoe above your heads, her expression smug but her cheeks just the faintest flush of pink. “Well, would you look at that…” You murmur, before giggling at her antics. She leans in slowly, her breath warm against your skin. The kiss starts soft, hesitant, like she’s testing the waters. But when you cradle her face in your hands, she melts into it, kissing you deeper, with a tenderness that leaves you breathless.

And when you finally pull back, her forehead resting against yours, she exhales a quiet laugh. “Okay,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper, “maybe Christmas isn’t that bad.”

From the living room, Yelena’s snore breaks the silence—loud and obnoxious. Natasha groans, but you can see the affection in her expression when she shakes her head. “Don’t tell her I said that.” She adds, smirking. And just like that, the moment is gone, replaced by the familiar warmth of Natasha’s dry humor.

But later, when you catch her adding an extra blanket over Yelena on the couch, you realise that maybe, Natasha likes Christmas more than she’d like to admit. And maybe this Christmas might bring more than just holiday cheer.

[dyli-dadi3]

Knotting

Chris thought you two were the bestest of buds, two peas in a pod... Well, he isn't technically wrong... there is a p in a pod...

Tags: smut (p in v), knotting, mating, riding, hybrid animals (both puppies), mounting, getting caught.

Ever since that shit with Wesker and Jill back in Africa, Chris hasn’t been able to relax. He tosses and turns at night, plagued with the face of Jill, of all the citizens he had to kill just because they were robbed of their humanity. The whole debacle had left him feeling incredibly lonely and filled with the overwhelming sensation that he was never fully alone. Every time he closed his eyes, even for a second, it was like he was in Africa all over again. It got to the point where his coworkers had noticed.

—

“Hey, Chris, you’ve been acting off, lately. " One late night, a guy in HR spoke up when he decided to stay and mess with the thick stack of paperwork that was growing on his desk. 

“Really?” Chris mumbled the words, more interested in the hissing of the coffee machine that was currently spewing out the liquid gold he needed. The sound was familiar to him, something that wasn’t the screams of pain and despair that he also got familiar with.

“Yeah, it’s like you’ve been distancing yourself. It’s making your paperwork late.” The little shit huffed, crossing his arms. 

Of course, he didn’t care about him, he was just there to ensure his performance was running at full speed. Not like he expected anything else, that’s why he never really talked to the guy. He just partook in the mandatory check-ins to say what is going good and bad in management, only for nothing to be changed because it isn’t “important.” He learned pretty quickly that the BSAA was good for one thing and one thing only, fighting bioterrorism. As long as there was some new monstrosity to humans running amok, their agent’s mental health could wait. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” Chris muttered, grabbing the steaming pot of instant coffee and poring it into his mug that was printed with the BSAA logo. 

“You know, I think you’re due for some company,” The guy said thoughtfully. What was his actual name again? Todd? Tom? I think it was Tom…

“How I spend my very limited free time isn’t your problem,” Chris said flatly, finally looking up at Tom. “And besides, I don’t have time to foster a new relationship.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about that,” Tim said, smiling at him like it was some kind of joke. 

I don’t have the time or patience for this.

“I’m thinking like a pet or something. Animals have been used for therapy forever. I think you need something to soften up that rough exterior of yours.” Ted chuckled, bringing his hand up to shove Chris’ shoulder. He just took a step back.

“…”

“If I can’t deal with a relationship, what makes you think that I can take care of a whole other life?” Chris huffed to save the man some embarrassment. Man, this guy was denser than that loaf of banana bread he tried to make for Jill when she joined S.T.A.R.S. with him.

“Geez, man, are you dense? I swear you live under a rock…” Timmy sighed.

Are you serious…?

“Haven’t you heard? Those new ‘hybrid’ things are all the craze right now.” If they’re being described as things, it can’t be good. “They’re humans, but animals.”

Chris raised his eyebrow at this. “First of all, how is that even possible? And second, why hasn’t the BSAA or government in general shut that down?”

“Well, the guy who was originally splicing all that DNA was arrested, but they couldn’t just kill the little fellows he made, so they put them up for sale. Not everyone could care for their new pet slash human baby, so some got loose and bred like rabbits. They’re everywhere now. Are you seriously telling me you haven’t seen one yet? News? Alley? Other friends?” Billy said.

Chris paused. “You’re telling me that there’s half animal, half-human creatures walking around the city?” The image in his mind was horrific.

“Yeah, they’re kind of cute, cute like a kid and a puppy at the same time,” Ben said with a smile. “But anyways,  brought it up ‘cause I think you’d do good with one. They’re easier to train than animals and can do all the same things we can, so you won’t feel bad for leaving them when you’re out doing that bioterrorism stuff. Brady has one.” 

“Who?” He knew a Brad once.

“...Brady? He sits right across from you.” Oh right, toupe. “Right, it’s just late,” Chris said, taking a sip of his coffee so he could at least try to properly wrap his mind around the bombshell Bill just dropped on him.

“Yeah, he says she’s the best thing to ever happen to him. But don’t tell his wife he said that.” 

Chris let out a dry chuckle, his mind moving on from the papers he had to do. Maybe he could look up these ‘hybrids’ once he got off of work.

“I’ll think about it.” He said before leaving Ben at the coffee machine.

—

It took way less effort than he expected, the papers quickly being filled out since he was getting more and more eager to find out what these hybrids looked like. If Toupe and Bennie thought they were good, as well as everyone else, they couldn’t be that ugly.

Before he knew it, Chris was sitting at his desk, the word ‘Hybrid’ typed up on his monitor. His finger governs over the enter button. Despite all the admittedly cute descriptions, he still couldn’t shake off the fear that they were just the same as all the bioengineered organisms he fought against. He’s killed his fair share of zombie dogs.

Forgetting the zombie dogs, he had always wanted a regular dog. So he amended his search, changing it to ‘Dog Hybrid’ and hit enter. 

The results were instantaneous, and he had to admit, they were pretty cute. The ones on the top of Google had round faces, chubby cheeks, bright eyes, floppy ears, and bushy tails. He then looked at maintenance. There was already an abundance of forums describing how to take care of them, what to expect depending on the type of species they derived from, and just some silly stories people wanted to share.

He was sold, and before he knew it, he had made an appointment to a shelter that houses hybrids to see if he could find one.

Of course, he always thought of having a tough-looking dog, big and fluffy. What he didn’t expect was to walk up to the front door and be greeted with two pups playfighting in the small enclosure just past the glass display. When he walked in, they both turned to look at him, yipping with pure energy.

He turned his back to them to greet the front lady who had been looking at him. “I’m here for a consultation? Last name Redfield.” 

The lady smiled, walking to the little gate on the side of her to let him in. “Just go down the hall and to the left, there’s a lady there that will help you from there.”

The lady she talked about was very sweet. She didn’t stare at him too long, or ask about his dark eyebags, or even the fact that he didn’t have unstained clothes to wear. She just asked him how much maintenance he was willing to expend for caretaking, as well as some personality inquiries. She said it was to “match him to the perfect pup,” since they only housed dogs.

With that, he was led through so many isles of dog-human things that he didn’t know what to do with himself. Despite the tempting allure of a companion to have when he came back home, it was all a spur-of-the-moment thing. He had yet to accommodate another living being in his house, and the thought of leaving a senior hybrid or puppy alone for long periods was beginning to weigh on his heart all over again.

—

“He was cute!” You said happily, flopping onto Leon’s side. “Imagine what it would be like to be adopted by him.”

It was a pastime for the two of you to look at the people who walked past and theorize about their lives, about what it would be like to be chosen by them. 

“I don’t know, he looks like he could crush my head with his bicep.” Leon grimaced, holding his head.

“Oh, but that’s the fun part!” You giggled, pressing your face to his side as your tail wags behind you. 

“I guess he looked interested.” Leon smiled, pouncing on you to nip at your neck. You squealed, trying to kick him off of you as he tried to pin you down. “Leon, that tickles!” You tried to catch your breath when he finally pulled away to sit down on the padded floor of the display case. “But that’s the fun part!” He said with a mockingly high-pitched tone as he smirked.

You huffed, jumping on top of him as you tried to repay the favor.

—

“I’m sorry, none of them called out to me,” Chris said, walking back to the front as he tried to ignore the pitiful looks of the hybrids he left behind him. Man, this was a bad idea.

“No worries, I’m glad you don’t feel the need to force yourself, we get a lot of people who fold, only to return them weeks later saying that they couldn’t deal with it.” The lady smiled, waving goodbye as Chris entered the front of the shelter again. 

He tried to ignore the way the two of you immediately stopped playing to lean up against the barrier of your enclosure. Both of your tails wagged, and he tried to push out the sound of “He didn’t get anyone! Do you think he came back for us?” coming from your sweet mouth. 

God, this was a bad idea.

“Are the ones in the front available?” He found himself asking the first lady. “Those two?” He awkwardly pointed at the two pups that were climbing over each other now that he specifically pointed them out. 

“I knew it!”

“We’re free!”

“Of course! They sure are the energetic type… Are you sure you’ll be able to handle them?” The lady said softly. He couldn’t blame her, he had answered her caregiving question with low maintenance.

“Don’t listen to her! We’re well-behaved!”

“Yeah! We’re so good!”

“I’m positive that we’ll be fine.” Chris smiled. No, I’m not, but I can’t say no to those cute faces…

“Well then, just sign these papers right right here for adoption, and then they’re all yours.” The lady smiled, reaching underneath her desk to produce two packets of papers. On the top of each of them were your names. The handwriting was messy, but the glitter pen used on yours made him realize that the two of you signed your names yourselves. The realization was heartwarming, and with the revelation, he could see the personality woven into the childish signatures. This was going to end up great.

—

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

God, he couldn’t have been more wrong. The two of you were endless bounds of energy, like two Tasmanian devils living in his flat. He had thought that the two of you were more human than dog, able to have self-control and discipline like Benjamin had said, but he quickly realized that he adopted two puppies that took a liking to chewing up all the shit in his house no matter how many times he said no. 

But he was a man, a stubborn one at that, and he was determined to give the two of you a forever home.

He’s had to put child-proofing on almost all of his furniture and cabinets so that you two didn’t get into his stuff or shred the legs of all his furniture to shit. Eventually, he had to go back to work, where he’d look the two of you in the eye and say “Be good” like a disapproving father before leaving. No matter what was happening at work, his mind was preoccupied with all the things the two of you could be getting up to. He was starting to think of getting a sitter.

When he came home, his blood ran cold. Pained whimpering. Did somebody get hurt? Was someone in danger? 

He rushed into his house, finding the source of his sudden anxiety spark. You. His jaw grew slack as he saw you straddling Leon’s thigh, the poor pup fast asleep as you rutted against him. “Hey!” He gasped, grabbing your arm and pulling you off of him. “No! That’s bad!” He admonished you, his ears aflame as he watched you whine and squirm in his grasp. He didn’t know what to do, and he would rather go back to Africa than see that again.

“N-No, feels good! I feel funny, and it helps.” You huffed, kicking your legs. 

All the ruckus woke up Leon, his eyes fluttering open as his pupils focused on your whining form. “Huh?” He said softly, sniffing the air and leaning in closer. “Dad… She smells sweet, what’s wrong?” he said thoughtfully, bringing his nose to her crotch and sniffing. 

Oh god. “First of all, I told you, I’m not your Dad. Secondly, you need to back up. She’s…sick.” He said tentatively, not wanting to even think about what she’s feeling right now. “Sick?” You said softly, looking up at him with big eyes and a tail between your legs. 

“You’ll be fine; you just need to stay in your room for a bit to cool off; it’ll feel better.” Maybe if she stays alone for a bit, she won’t go into a full-blown heat… 

—

That didn’t work. 

You were fine for a bit, cooling down and reporting that the feeling in your tummy went away, but as soon as he brought you to the same room as Leon, you’d complain all over again. He didn’t know what to do, he read about this, but he supposed that it was his fault for not asking more questions about the… condition the two of you were in. Well, he guessed that he should have asked way more questions.

But these were the cards he was dealt, and he couldn’t keep an eye on you forever, so he left work today with a very serious talk to Leon. “Don’t let her touch you, no matter how much she begs. And if you want to nap, please sleep in your room. Alone.” 

Simple, precise, and direct. Of course, he had already told you about what was happening. That it was completely normal, but that it needed to be controlled. He just hoped that you wouldn’t have to suffer for so long. He was already looking up vets to have you spayed.

—

“Dad said we can’t!” Leon sighed, trying to keep his distance as your sickeningly sweet scent saturated the air around him. He could practically see the way it colored the atmosphere. All pink and flowery and like candy. It made his head spin and cock twitch. Wait, that was new. “But it hurts, Leon! I’m all hot and achey and it’s the only thing that makes me feel better. Don’t you wanna make me feel good?” You pouted, walking closer to him again. Only this time, he didn’t take a step back.

“We’ll be quick, he won’t even know! Dad said it’s normal!” You argued your case, coming in closer and closer. 

“I suppose… You do feel sick.” Leon sighed, sitting down on the couch. You immediately crawled into his lap, whimpering as you pressed your slicked-up pussy against his thigh, the wetness permeating through the pair of soft shorts you wore. Leon groaned, the smell of your arousal making him feel dizzy but good at the same time. “Maybe this isn’t so bad…” He said as you rutted against his thigh. “D-Do you need anything?” He asked, hands hovering over your hips. “You. Oh my god, you smell so good, Leon.” You groaned, burying your nose into his neck and inhaling. 

Leon had no idea what was going on, only that you were sick and maybe he was getting sick, too. His skin felt feverish, and now there was a throbbing in his pants that was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. He was drawn to the scent, not like he needed to be pulled, you were drowning him in it. Choking him with your intoxicating scent that made his hips buck and his mouth water. He knew he should be stopping this before it got too far, but the voice in his head was screaming more, more, more! He groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist in a tight hug, pulling you in closer to rut against his erection. 

“Oh god, yes, Leon!” You sobbed, unsure whether to continue indulging in the pleasure of the now or try and soothe the ache deep inside of you. But you had to, the throbbing was borderline painful.

You slipped out of your shorts, tugging his cock out of his sweats. You didn’t know how, but it was like you knew that this was what you needed, the voice in your head yipping in glee. You paused when Leon whimpered, his hips jerking, jolting you up with him. “That feels good, too?” You asked. 

“Yeah, feels good…” He whined, gripping the fat of your hips. Never in his life has he felt this good, like putting ice on a burn, eating watermelon in the hot summer heat, or eating a sandwich after getting out of the pool. All the static in his brain cleared, and all that was left was the overwhelming urge to do something with you. He didn’t know what, but he felt like this was as close as it was going to get.

God, was he wrong. There was something better, and it was called ‘being deep inside your best friend as she bounced on your lap like a professional pogo stick rider.’

He was cussing like a sailor as you engulfed him, everything coming full circle as he realized that this was what he was meant to do for the rest of his life. Nothing else he would ever do would compare. He was sure of it. Your pussy was like a godsend and he couldn’t get enough. He tightened his grip, snapping his hips up into your sopping heat as he pulled you down, trying to get as deep as possible. It wasn’t enough, there was a missing piece. 

You were a trembling mess, clenching around him and making him whine as he tried to go faster, feeling a ball of something wind up in his chest. “O-Oh my god, Leon, I-I feel something.” You gasped as he groaned, shoving the both of you to the ground as he mounted you. He pushed you into the ground as he arched your back, snapping his hips into you at a brutal pace as his voice grew higher and whinier. “M-Me, too. Wan’it.” He whimpered, moving faster, until he nearly screamed, your pussy clamping down on him as you came. He didn't stop, couldn't stop, the need to fuck you overwhelming. But he didn't last much longer. In just moments, he was cumming ropes and ropes of thick cum into your pussy. The whole thing was overstimulating and honestly a little terrifying. All of the dizziness went away, there wasn't a trace of static, nor was there a voice begging for more. He suddenly felt complete, and that was alarming, not to mention the fact that his dick was swelling inside of you. “H-Hey, are you okay?” He said in alarm. Despite your moans, the feeling of stretching your pussy like this made him nervous.

“So good… Feel so much better…” You mumbled into the hardwood, eyes droopy and body like putty. “That's good…” Leon murmured, finally relaxing with your confirmation and tugging you with him as he flopped to the side, spooning you. He stayed still, his body automatically knowing the process. It was as if he was on autopilot. The thought made him chuckle. He was made to please you.

—

Chris dropped all his things at the front door when he saw the two of you fast asleep.

“Shit!”

I love puppy Leon so much it's not even funny. Trust that he will be back for more.

[lxvebun]

and suddenly I see you in everything

synopsis: valentines day is just around the corner and you're going to have to come to terms with what you're feeling for satoru is more than just a silly little crush.

buns notes: this fic disappeard into the void and I had to rewrite it entirely🥲 it may be a little rusty bur I hope you all enjoy anyway!

content highschool! Gojo x highschool!Gender neutral reader. Fluff! Angst if you squint. Use of the nickname Sweetheart. Wingman!suguru tbh. Timeskips are indicated with the♡♡ symbols. Around 2.5k words. Eng is not my first language so I'm sorry for any mistakes!

Spring is just around the corner, a thought that brings warmth after dull, cold winter days. In a few weeks, Plants and flowers will sprout their first leaves. In a few weeks sunlight will filter through the brances of lush trees. Everything that was once frozen over will blossom again, and the gray skies will give way to bright, clear blues. Spring will be here soon, and you're still lovesick over Satoru.

At this point, you're starting to believe that what you're feeling goes beyond just a silly little high school crush, beyond that puppylove you’ll soon move past and only remember fondly after you graduate—maybe even cringe a little at your past self. No, this is more than that, whether you want it to be or not. You're in love with Satoru—a love you're afraid will haunt you forever, because there will never be a day where you could ever forget someone like him. You see the reflection of his eyes when you look up into bright skies dotted with fluffy clouds. You’re reminded of his warmth with every summer’s sunlight. You see him in every lovely thing, your thoughts constantly drift off to him and with Valentine's Day rapidly approaching, you might as well see where this could lead

♡♡

“So, any plans for Valentine’s Day?” Suguru asks you, his tone a little too teasing for your liking. You're at the cafe down the street, your usual hangout place after school. Satoru and Shoko are waiting in line to order drinks for the table—green tea, an iced Americano, hot chocolate for you, and a sugar monstrosity for Satoru, no doubt. You and suguru have already claimed your spot at the table in the corner of the cafe, next to the window, the weather a mix of bright sunlight and sudden cloud breaks.

"Not sure if I have any. Why? Got something you want to ask me?" you deflect, hoping to steer the conversation into something more lighthearted, less serious. However, this is Suguru we’re talking about. 

"A new chocolate place opened up in the city a few days ago. Heard they have limited edition Valentine’s Day packages," You nod along with his words, unsure where this is going " You should get Satoru one."

The initial teasing tone has melted into something more mellow, velvet and persuasive..

"Suguru—"

"Just saying, it'd be the perfect start to a confession," he shrugs, glancing out the window. "I'm sure, to him, they will taste even better knowing they came from you," glancing at you from the side, his golden eyes trace your features to try and read what your thinking.

You avoid his gaze, instead letting your own gaze trail toward the line where Satoru and Shoko are still waiting. "I highly doubt he feels the same way, Sugu."

Suguru doesn't miss a bit. "I don't." He's says, almost sounding offended. "Just..." he sighs. "Visit the shop, will you? Just take a look"

Really, Satoru and Suguru are just as stubborn as the other. You've learned by now that there's no use in arguing further, so with a roll of your eyes and a deep sigh, You nod.

The conversation wraps up just as Satoru and Shoko return, drinks in hand.

"Hot chocolate for you, sweets. Satoru grins, placing the mug down infront of you. I convinced them to add extra whipped cream, you're welcome." He winks and plops down beside you, slinging his arm around your shoulders. You bite the inside of your lip, ignoring the fluttering of your heart along with the knowing glance Suguru sends your way.

♡♡

Would it be cowardly to back out now? you wonder, sitting on the steps leading up to school. The morning light, soft and diffused, wraps itself around the gates, casting long shadows across the pavement.. you sit there in absolute silence. Thoughts about your friendship, possible rejection and heartbreak flooding your mind.

Are you really willing to risk the friendship? Destroy what lovely thing you already have with Satoru?.

Too lost in thought, you don't even notice the footsteps behind you.

"Thought I'd find you here."

The voice breaks you out of your trance. It's Suguru.

You hadn't even realized how long you’d been sitting there, skin a little cold from the stone steps, the blue heart-shaped chocolate box, adorned with bows and frills heavy in your lap. 

Suguru’s footsteps are quiet as he approaches. He's quick to join you on the steps, dropping his bag with a soft thud, the sound breaking the stillness. The morning song of birds in the distance seems muffled, as if the world around you is suddenly put on pause. The box  feels even heavier now knowing Suguru has seen it, its weight sinking deeper into your lap, the ribbons at the corners of the box catching the sunlight, reminds you of how delicate your plan is—and how uncertain.

Settling beside you, he tilts his head slightly toward the box,

"I noticed the receipt in your bag yesterday." He nods toward the box. "Figured maybe you could use some extra support."

You glance at the box and then back to the quiet path leading up to the school gates, trying to avoid meeting his eyes. Suguru doesn’t push; instead, he lets the silence stretch for a few moments, the only sound being the faint rustling of the wind through the trees.

"I’m scared," you finally admit, your voice quiet, like the words are too fragile to say aloud.

Suguru’s expression softens and he shifts a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours, offering a sense of stability.

"Of what?"

You take a shaky breath, before you speak. 

"What if this breaks our friendship?" The words leave your lips in a whisper, like they’re the heaviest thing you’ve ever said.

"It won’t," he's quick to say, his voice firm, but warm. There's no hesitation, not a hint of uncertainty.

"I feel silly giving this to him," you admit, your fingers tracing the ribbon on the box nervously, as if trying to untangle your thoughts along with the delicate fabric. 

Although he may not agree with your thought process, He doesn’t dismiss your feelings. Instead, he says softly, "Just don’t give up on the idea yet. I think it’s a lovely one."

The words settle in the space between you like a soft breath of air. His gaze is still on you, unwavering, like he’s watching for the shift in your face, the moment when you finally stop doubting yourself. You feel the warmth of his presence beside you, the way he’s not letting you shrink away into your own fear. It’s as if, for this one moment, he’s asking you to trust him, to trust that this leap, however uncertain to you, might be worth it.

♡♡

The rest of the day drags on, each minute feeling like an eternity. Your nerves are a tangled mess, and your mind replays every moment—every glance exchanged with Satoru, every time you tried to speak but backed out at the last second. It's exhausting, and you're once again questioning if it’s really worth it. the weight of the box in your bag—its meaning, its confession—feeling like a bone-splintering burden.

And Satoru’s been trying to get your attention, you can tell. He made small talk during lunch, his voice light and carefree, but you couldn’t match his energy. When he and Shoko joined you and Suguru on the steps earlier, he spoke to you with warmth, but you shut him out. Every time he looked at you, you quickly looked away, pretending to focus on anything but him. And you feel guilty, you really do, because you can see it's affecting him.

It doesn’t help that today feels like the worst possible day for everything to go wrong. Valentine’s Day—the one day meant for sweet gestures and heart-shaped confessions—has turned into the one day you fear could break your entire friendship along with your heart.

The bell signaling the end of the final period echoes down the hall, and your heart sinks. The day is almost over, and the time to get your confession out, to untangle the mess in your heart, is slipping away.

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice the crumpled piece of paper flying toward you until it lands softly on your desk with a dull thud. You glance down, your heart skipping a beat as you recognize the familiar handwriting—messy, hurried, but unmistakably his.

Can we talk after school?

You hesitate, the paper crinkling in your hand as a million thoughts rush through your mind. Does he know? Does he feel the same way? Did Suguru say something?

From the corner of your eye, you see him looking your way, waiting for a response. You can't bring yourself to speak, instead you nod in his direction, unable to trust your voice. You want to say something—anything—but all you can do is stare at the note, the question lingering in the air suffocatingly so. What does he want to talk about?

The apologetic smile he sends your way when you finally meet his gaze does nothing to ease your nerves.

♡♡

Once the final bell rings, neither of you is in a hurry to pack your things. You watch as Satoru whispers something to Suguru before he and Shoko head out, leaving just the two of you behind.

For a moment, it's quiet, neither of you moves, both of you rooted to your seats. His posture is tense but after a few moments and a deep breath, he slowly stands and walks towards you.

Don’t panic. This is your chance. Your mind rings. It’s just the two of you . It’s perfect.

"Hey."

"Hi."

An awkward silence settles between you—one that you’ve never experienced with him before. He sighs, taking off his glasses and hanging them on the collar of his uniform, before crouching down in front of you. Gently, he takes your hands in his, his thumb rubbing comforting circles on the back of your hand.

"Listen," he begins, his eyes nervously flickering between your own, he takes a deep breath before speaking. "I’m really, really sorry..." his voice wavers a little, and you notice how his hands tremble as they hold yours.

"Why are you apologizing?"

He swallows hard before continuing "you've been avoiding me today, and I know I must have done something incredibly stupid-"

"Oh... no. Satoru, you didn’t do anything wrong! it’s just..."

He waits for you to finish your sentence, more patient than you’ve ever seen him.

"It’s Valentine’s Day," you mumble.

"It is," he agrees, voice gentle but urging you to go on.

You pull one hand out of his grip to dig into your bag, pulling out the heart-shaped box. Hesitantly, you offer it to him.

"And I wanted to give this to you." You want to say more, throw out the entire speech you’ve rehearsed in your head, but your voice trembles, and your throat feels like its filled with cotton.

This is it.

Satoru blinks once, then twice, before his face lights up with the brightest, pearliest smile you’ve ever seen. He eagerly grabs the box, still holding onto your other hand. "This is why you’ve been avoiding me?" he asks, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief.

Satoru's eyes soften. "Y/n, Did you really think I’d reject you?" He asks softly

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the disbelief in his voice as if the idea of him rejecting you was the strangest thing in the world.

His hand still holds yours, his gaze never leaves you and then, his voice a little quieter and a little more breathy now, but still warm with that signature teasing charm.

" sweetheart, Let me take you out on a date—just the two of us."

Almost instantly, the weight of the confession, the uncertainty that had been hanging between you two, seems to evaporate. Your heart flutters, and you can’t help but smile back at him.

"I’d love that," you reply, your voice softer now, filled with a mix of relief and excitement.

[harpersdragons]

New Fic!

...This was actually posted about 3 weeks ago, I just forgot to post here as well.

Anywayyyy

If My Engine Works Perfectly on Empty...(Spoiler: It Doesn't)

Title from Growing Sideways by Noah Kahan

My first Dick-centric fic!

Summary: Dick has a hard time accepting help, Bruce is more emotionally competent than usual and somehow helps

Tags: Hurt/comfort, emotional Hurt/comfort, soft batfam

TW: I don't think there are any, but if there is let me know

Words: 3776

Dick is fine.

100%, completely fine.

Ok…maybe not right now.

But he will be, he always is.

He just maybe feels like he’s drowning, currently.

But it will be fine.

He will be fine.

He has to be.

He just has to go home for a couple hours, have dinner with his family, and make them believe his life is going great. And ignore the restless energy clawing under his skin, ignore the endless torment of his thoughts, all his responsibilities, and then everything will be fine.

Easier said than done.

Dick is currently sprawled on his couch, staring blankly at the ceiling.

He has so many things to do, it’s only lunch time and he hasn’t eaten all day. He needs to make food, needs to look over a few cases—some of his own, a couple of Jason’s—he needs to sleep.

He hasn’t been lately, not for lack of trying. If he does sleep, it’s not restful. The itching, restless energy burning under his skin makes sure of that.

When he first started feeling it, he did extensive blood tests. It almost feels like Ivy’s pollen, though that feels more like cold, stabbing needles.

The craving for human touch is there, though.

Perhaps he could ask his family for a hug, but none of them seem to enjoy physical affection. When he was a child he threw himself at Bruce often, used to affection being freely given. As he grew he learned some people didn’t enjoy it, or crave it, like he did.

And that’s fine.

He’s not going to force affection on his family.

He just needs time, and real, restful sleep, and then he’ll be fine. He can get past this.

He needs food too, but that takes so much effort.

Maybe he could just take the day, lay here for a while.

The next couple hours pass in a haze, it seems like half an hour passes every time he blinks.

He needs coffee.

Or a 3 week nap.

He sighs heavily, glancing at his phone. He has to leave, if he wants to get to dinner on time.

Tonight’s family patrol night too. Maybe he should get six shots of espresso and call it good. That should keep him up for a bit.

Is it the smartest idea when he hasn’t eaten in 36 hours? Probably not.

But fuck this.

He could just skip.

He’s not really family, is he? He wasn’t adopted, they won’t miss him. Nightwing doesn’t have official patrol routes in Gotham, he just rotates teaming up with the others.

Dick barely stays at the manor, he’s barely been going at all outside family dinners or meet ups at the cave.

If they haven’t missed him by now, they won’t miss him tonight.

He sighs, and banishes that thought process. He has to go.

He told Alfred he’d be there, back when he was feeling social, and he doesn’t want to disappoint Alfred.

Dick heaves himself off the couch, grabbing his keys and finally making it out the door. He can grab his concerning espresso monstrosity on the way. At a coffee shop where the baristas do not know his name.

The drive is short—too short, in Dick’s opinion—and he doesn’t remember most of it. All he knows is his coffee is gone, and he’s mostly sure he didn’t break that many traffic laws.

If he doesn’t remember it, it didn’t happen.

The knot in his stomach only got tighter the closer he got to manor. He’s not even entirely sure why, he loves his family. He just…maybe doesn’t have the energy to pretend tonight. And he’s out of time to put himself back together enough for them to be fooled.

The thing is, your family is supposed to be your safety net, right?

Well, his just…isn’t.

Not that they don’t care, they do.

…He thinks.

Anyway, Bruce is, well, Bruce. And he would never burden his younger siblings with his problems, they have more than enough of their own.

DIck throws his car into park in the garage, not entirely sure how he made it in one piece. The caffeine made him mildly more awake, but even that didn’t make him more aware. He definitely wasn’t in a state to drive, and he’s probably not in any state to properly interact with his family.

Who is he kidding, there’s no way he can fool his family of detectives. His only hope is if they’re all preoccupied. In the case of his younger brothers, that’ll be in the form of trying to kill each other, even if they’ve gotten better about it.

Dick thinks it’s mostly playing now, but you can never quite be sure.

He hopes Cass isn’t here tonight, and immediately feels bad for thinking it. He loves her, but she’s way too perceptive. He’ll barely be able to fool Bruce, let alone Cass.

Dick takes a few more minutes to collect himself.

He rubs a hand down his face, wishing, for once, he could wear his physical mask. It could at least hide some of his mental state. Taking one more deep breath, he forces himself out of the car.

Damian greets him at the door, Titus just behind him. “Grayson.” Oh great, Damian already sounds pissed, and Dick only just walked through the door.

Dick didn’t even do anything to him.

“Where were you? We were supposed to go to the art museum in Metropolis.”

Shit. so maybe Dick did do something to him.

“I’m sorry, Dami, I—”

“Whatever.” Damian huffs and storms off.

Dick sighs, leaning back against the door.

He’s such an idiot. He’d had the plans in his calendar for weeks, he was looking forward to it! He knew Damian was looking forward to it too. Hopefully someone still took him, though knowing Damian he probably brushed them all off.

“Dick, you alright?” Bruce takes him by surprise, and Dick jumps a little.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be?” He hopes the fake cheery tone is enough to fool his father, because he really doesn’t think he can summon anything else.

“Well you sat in the garage for 15 minutes, and now you’ve made it two steps inside and you look like you’re going to collapse.” Something in Bruce’s gaze sharpens as he scans Dick. “Are you injured? Your reports didn’t say anything—”

“I’m fine, B, really.” Dick interrupts him before he can come closer. If anyone touches him, he might fall apart. “Just been a long day.” It really hasn’t. It’s been a strangely short day, and Dick doesn’t know where most of the time has gone.

“Hn.”

“I’m fine! Let’s go, I’m sure Alfred’s almost got dinner ready!” He practically bounces past Bruce, heading towards the kitchen.

“You’re early, actually. We still have a bit before everyone else shows up. Why don’t we go hang out in the living room?”

“Who all’s here?” Dick pauses in the hallway.

“Tim is upstairs, Damian is around somewhere, Jason is hit or miss on whether or not he’ll show up, Stephanie and Cass will be along eventually.”

So it’ll be a full house. Everyone gets to witness his mental breakdown/whatever the fuck else is going on with him.

“Yeah I saw Damian. I…I messed up with him today.”

“You did. We can work that out later. I took him to the art museum, so he still got to go, but he was looking forward to spending the day with you.” Bruce’s voice is light, but Dick still flinches.

“I know. I didn’t mean to forget.”

“I figured you didn’t. Come on, let’s go sit down.”

Great. Bruce is purposefully not pushing. Bruce never does that.

He lets Bruce walk ahead of him, carefully stepping out of the way of the arm his father tries to sling around his shoulder. Bruce shoots him a look, but keeps walking.

Dick’s really not doing a good job pretending to be normal. He should have just skipped, no one would miss him after all.

Damian’s pissed at him, Jason’s…Jason, Tim and he still haven’t gotten back to normal after what happened while Bruce was in the time stream, and Bruce…he doesn’t know where he stands with Bruce. Surely it would have been better if he stayed home.

“Dick, you coming?”

Oh, he stopped walking. Oops.

“Yep! Right behind you.” Dick forces himself to start moving again, “Am I really that early? I thought I was running late.”

Bruce hums, “Dinner was pushed back a bit, rough night on patrol last night.”

Really? He didn’t hear about anything going wrong last night.

Or maybe he did? Did he just forget?

“Oh. Is everyone ok?”

“Everyone’s fine, it was in the mission reports. Just a busy night, and we all got in late.”

Oh, so he wasn’t told explicitly. He meant to read the reports last night, but he’d been so tired he collapsed in bed immediately. Not that it did him any good, he still laid in bed awake for hours, but he tried.

Dick nods as they finally make it into the living room. There’s a show already on the TV, but Dick can’t even begin to figure out which one it is.

DIck’s legs almost give out as he tries to sit, so instead of sitting like a normal person, he practically flops onto the couch. The gracelessness of it draws Bruce’s sharp eyes back to him.

“You sure you’re alright?” He scans Dick even as he takes a seat himself.

“Perfectly fine, B,” physically anyway, “just lost my balance for a second!” The anxiety that has been ever present only tightens in his chest, a thick, unbreakable coil.

Just a few more hours.

A few more hours, get through dinner, then patrol, then sleep.

And do it all again the next day.

Dick is fine.

Will be fine.

He has no other choice.

____________________________________________________________________________

Bruce knows something is going on with Dick. He just can’t figure what. His son isn’t injured, there was nothing in the patrol reports from the last few days, he’s not favoring one side or another.

But he’s been jittery since he arrived, and at the same time, he hasn't been fully present.

There’s something weighing on his son, even as Dick tries to bounce around like he would normally.

Watching him fold himself into the corner of the couch only confirms his suspicions. Dick likes to spread out, he doesn’t like being confined. Even most of the family is on the couch—because the whole family absolutely can’t fit on the same couch—Dick likes to spread across them, joking and laughing.

Whatever’s going on, Dick is determined to not talk about it, and for once, Bruce isn’t going to push. It’s never gone well for him in the past, so until Dick actually says something, or the problem gets worse, Bruce can drop it.

Despite deciding not to push the subject, Bruce keeps a close eye on Dick. He watches the way Dick appears to be watching the show, but his mind is clearly elsewhere. The way he curls in on himself, arms wrapped around his abdomen, legs tucked under him. The way he lets his hair fall into his face, slightly greasy from going too long without washing it. That, in itself, is a red flag. Dick has always been careful about his hygiene, especially his hair. It’s a point of pride for him.

It only serves to make Bruce more determined to get to the bottom of this.

It doesn’t take much longer for the rest of his kids to start showing up. Tim and Damian both emerge from their rooms—Tim only stayed because of how late they got in last night—Jason shows up not much later.

Dick doesn’t even seem to notice when they walk past him to the dining room, content to stare off into space with his head on the armrest.

Jason frowns, watching Dick for several seconds. Then he throws himself on the couch next to him, and jabs a finger into his side.

Dick has always been ticklish, so Bruce is expecting a reaction. He’s not, however, expecting the magnitude of the reaction.

Dick startles, somehow throwing himself into a backflip over the couch, ending up almost in the wall behind them. Bruce and Jason both stand, facing Dick.

Dick’s eyes are wide, and his chest is heaving. His eyes dart around the room, and once he seems to register where he is, he collapses, like a puppet with its strings cut. He shoves himself against the back wall and buries his head in his knees.

Bruce and Jason share a glance, and Bruce rounds the couch to get closer to his eldest. He stops a few paces away, making sure not to crowd Dick.

“Dickie, it’s ok, it’s just Jason and I. Can I come closer?”

Dick shakes his head vigorously, then seems to take a few deep breaths and look up, much calmer now. “Sorry, I’m fine. I just got startled. Dinner?”

By all appearances, Dick is perfectly calm now, except for the way he’s still curled against the wall. It’s a flimsy lie, he trained Dick himself. He knows how hard it should be to catch him off guard. Especially to the magnitude it seemed to occur today.

Bruce hums, scanning Dick again. He decides to let it go, for now. He should probably bench Dick from patrol though, if he’s this jumpy, patrol won’t go well.

Bruce nods, standing and offering a hand to his son. Dick ignores it, bracing against the wall to stand. Bruce lets Dick walk ahead of him, heading to the kitchen. He gestures for Jason to follow, it is dinner time, and Cass and Stephanie will show up when they show up.

Jason watches them, disbelief clouding his gaze. “No, hold on. That’s it? Dick gets so startled he vaults over the couch and apparently has a breakdown, and you just let it go? What the fuck happened before I got here?”

Bruce glances at Dick again, noticing the way he tenses when Jason speaks. “It’s fine Jay, nothing happened.”

“Obviously something did. Dick is not fine, and you’re just letting it go? Where’s the Bruce that’s pushy and doesn’t know when to keep his thoughts to himself?”

“I’m learning, Jaylad. If Dick doesn’t want to talk, he doesn’t have to.” Bruce fixes a look on his second eldest, urging him to drop it. He’ll talk to Dick later, while everyone else is on patrol.

Jason huffs and stalks towards the kitchen, shoulder checking Bruce as he passes.

Rolling his eyes, Bruce follows.

They time it perfectly, getting to the kitchen just as Alfred finishes up. They each take their seats, Tim and Damian having already claimed theirs.

Dinner passes quickly once Alfred lays the plates out—though Stephanie and Cass never showed, they must have gotten caught up elsewhere—and his kids chatter amongst themselves. It seems they’re all concerned about Dick, they’re noticeably subdued as they eat and interact. There’s no fighting or yelling, and they keep obviously stealing glances at the oldest. Bruce himself keeps an eye on Dick, watching as he pushes food around his plate and seemingly forces himself to take bites every so often.

After dinner, Bruce pushes his chair back, and collects the dishes for Alfred. “I’ll meet you in the cave. Start pre-patrol checks.” He delivers the dishes to the kitchen, thanking his pseudo father for the meal, and then heads back to the dining room. Jason, Tim, and Damian have all headed to the cave, but Dick is still sitting, staring at the table

“You don’t need to bench me, I’m fine.”

“Why do you think I’m going to bench you?” He is, but maybe if Dick lists the reasoning it’ll be less of a battle.

“I can see it on your face, B, I know you think I’m not fit to be in the field right now.” Dick’s still staring at the table, his voice soft.

“Chum…Tell me honestly, do you think you’re completely safe to be in the field? Do you think you have the reaction time to fight, or watch your brother’s backs?”

“I…” Dick’s breath hitches, “I have to be ok. I don’t have another option.”

Bruce sighs, sitting in a chair next to Dick. “Can you look at me, Chum?”

Dick shudders, but eventually looks up.

“You have to let yourself feel what you’re feeling, right now, before you can be okay. You can’t suppress it, or run from it forever.”

Dick snorts, looking away: “Hypocrite.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, brat. Do as I say, not as I do.”

“That’s a terrible parenting tactic.” Dick laughs a little, but the sound is harsh and grating, nothing like his usual laugh, “But I never was your son, was I?”

Bruce recoils, brows furrow as he scans Dick’s posture. “Do you actually believe that?”

Dick just shrugs, stubbornly staring at the table again. “What proof do I have otherwise?”

“Dick, you have been my son from the moment I chose you, and brought you home from that detention center. You are my son, and that will never change.”

Dick doesn’t have a response, he peeks at Bruce from underneath the fringe of his hair, studying Bruce’s face.

“I will do everything in my power to fix this, sweetheart, but I can’t help unless you talk to me.”

“...Not right now. I don’t think I can handle any more right now.” Dick’s eyes are glassy, voice getting wet and nasally.

“Okay. Why don’t we take the night and hang out? We can have a movie night, like we used to.” Bruce stands, but waits on Dick to follow.

Dick gives a weak smile, though it looks more like a grimace. “You have patrol, I’ll be fine.”

“Gotham has the rest of the family. I think it’ll survive if I take one night off.”

“Are…are you sure?”

“My kid is more important. Why don’t you get set up in the media room, and I’ll let the others know not to wait on us. I’ll grab snacks on my way up.”

DIck nods, standing and heading out of the dining room.

“Hey, Dick?” Bruce asks, waiting until Dick turns back to continue. “Do you want a hug?” He gets his answer, in the form of his eldest son colliding with him, almost before the words are fully out of his mouth. Dick’s arms latch around Bruce’s neck, his head buried in his shoulder. Bruce wraps his arms around Dick, squeezing his son tightly. One hand comes up and cradles the back of his head, the other wrapping securely around his back. Bruce can feel Dick go lax against him, trusting Bruce to hold his weight. Bruce smiles softly, through the undercurrent of worry.

He had missed his son, Dick had been getting more withdrawn, spending less time in Gotham. He’s not happy he let it get this bad, but he is happy they’re finally getting somewhere.

After a few minutes it becomes evident Dick isn’t letting go, and like hell is Bruce letting go first. Not when his son went this long without knowing he is Bruce’s son. Not when he’d clearly been longing for the contact.

____________________________________________________________________________

Dick barely registered anything after launching into the hug Bruce offered. As soon as he’s wrapped in his father’s arms, his mind stops spinning. The restless itch finally ceases. Hell, even the jitters caused by the caffeine seem to ease, his headache practically disappears. He sinks deeper into the hold, mind finally quiet, no longer in fight or flight. Bruce takes his weight easily, and Dick barely registers a command to jump, and then they’re moving.

He feels like he should be embarrassed at how he’s being carried like a toddler, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s still mostly supporting himself with his legs wrapped around Bruce’s hips.

He doesn’t know how long they’re walking, only distantly registering as Bruce sits and Dick lets his legs drop. Bruce arranges them on the couch, letting Dick lay flat on top of him. A fluffy blanket is tucked around him, followed by a weighted blanket.

Dick appreciated the thought, he prefers the texture of the fluffy blanket, but he needs the weight to help ground him.

Dick doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he does register the position they’re in getting uncomfortable. His arms are squished awkwardly under Bruce, and it’s not all that comfortable to lay across him. Dick has to work himself up to shift positions, nudging Bruce until he’s sitting up and Dick can lay against his shoulder.

“What do you want to watch?” Bruce asks softly.

“I…I don’t know. Something funny?”

“I can do that.” Bruce fixes the blankets from where they had fallen, tucking them securely around Dick and then turning his attention to the screen as he sets the movie up.

“Wait, don’t you have to go talk to the others?”

“I texted them. They left from patrol, if there’s an emergency they’ll contact me. Alfred should be bringing up some snacks for us before he goes to monitor them.”

“Right here, sir.” Alfred enters with a tray and a big bowl. The tay has fruit, some desserts, and pretzels. The bowl is piled with popcorn. He rests his hand on Dick’s shoulder after he drops the food off, “I am glad you are here, Master Dick.”

Once Alfred leaves, Bruce hits play on the movie. Dick doesn’t pay a lot of attention, he’s finally relaxed enough to feel sleepy and he finds himself dozing off.

“Love you, kid.” Bruce murmurs into his hair.

“‘M not a kid.” Dick responds tiredly, words muffled and slurred.

“My kid. You’re always my kid, I don’t care how old you are.”

Dick hums, drifting off.

At some point, he wakes to Titus making himself comfortable by their feet, curling up on the couch with his massive head on Dick’s legs. Alfred perches near their heads, tail curled neatly around his white paws.

Dick is asleep by the time his siblings find them there, but he wakes up briefly at the jostling as they all settle in.

In the morning, he and Bruce will need to have a more in depth talk. In the morning, he’ll have to come clean about how he doesn’t feel entirely safe to show when he’s not ok.

But that’s the morning.

Right now, he can sleep peacefully, surrounded by his family and wrapped in his father’s arms.

[starrenati]

Again a week late, but, to my defence. Adulting is hard and I hate it more with each passing year. This chapter is a little bit of a rant at some places, but I hope it all stil fits toghether.

In this chpater I'm trying to finally get back to main course of this fanfiction instead of focusing on the girls. They'll be back, though.

Chapter XVI

"Human-like"

“So, what do we have here?” 

One of the scientists asked, looking at a massive spreadsheet. It looked almost ancient, like it laid something in the archive for way too long to be considered something valuable. After all, they needed to update their information as often as possible. 

“I dug around and found it, it matches the DNA strands we managed to take from that weird thing from the girl. It shouldn’t be possible though, IT has been gone for centuries now, and it died on a completely different version of Earth. Not even this one.” 

The scientist stepped closer to the spreadsheet. His eyes drifted over to “The Perceiver” written in bold letters. Now, that was a problem. That much was clear but it was getting worse as time passed it seemed. Perceiver was one of the Concepts, one of the rulers of multiverse, or even a rule itself. Rule of perception.  Its death went loud among many universes, causing a huge disruption at first, toying with ability to perceive things. Quickly it solved itself out, and luckily they didn’t have to intervene, but it was supposed to stay gone after the forces came back to normal, probably someone else filling in its role. They searched for any traces of its energy, to make sure it's really gone or if it was reborn. For centuries there was nothing and suddenly they got something. A parasite with residue of that DNA. This wasn’t good. Concepts are not reborn, they strive for destruction until only one of them, the strongest one is left. So something had to go terribly wrong that day. 

“You think she might be Its new form? Descendant? Something like this?”

“Highly doubt it. Her DNA is not matching at all to It. Only from that weird thing, parasite. We tried to pull them apart, but it almost caused her to crash and then we observed that it greatly enhances her aggression if we try to pull it away from her body. Like they’re combined on many more levels than just physical.” 

A little hum of acknowledgement. So it wasn’t a reborn form. At least it was good that they could clear that out. It was good, not only because it meant that what they caught and let go into the Void wasn’t a reborn Concept, but also because it meant that a Concept roaming this Earth was very unlikely. 

As long as Concepts stayed in their planes, taking care of rules they had in their hands, everything was usually going smoothly and overall nice. The problem was born, when Concept decided to indwell with humans. Usually it was to teach humans a lesson, a very valuable and bloody one. Each Concept looked completely different from one another, but there was one thing they shared among themselves. They had six pairs of wings. Three big ones, behind their back that could’ve been used as additional functional limbs, not only capable of flying, and three smaller ones on their heads, used to cover multiple eyes. 

It was believed that looking into the eyes of a Concept is an opportunity to learn unknown and ancient facts about the universe, but also almost instant death, as no mind is capable of taking in and comprehending that amount of knowledge. So these ten meters tall creatures cover their eyes to protect those who don’t deserve death. They had a different level of understanding that, it wasn’t pity, it wasn’t mercy, it was simple judgement. You do or do not deserve to die, to be gutted inside out without a single incision. That must have been terrifying. Not only witnessing such monstrosity, but face it and die in almost an instant for others, but probably dying for years on your own, feeling each and every neuron pulled apart, while learning answers to every question that was already asked or was meant to be asked in the future. Beautiful but terrifying death. 

Out of all the angry Concepts, Perceiver was probably the worst. Sure, It had beautiful wings to cover Its eyes, but so what? Its body was covered in various eyes peering right into your soul, as soon as Its rage began. Multitude of color snatching souls and lives in seconds, monstrosity that didn’t even wield a weapon like others do. Its gaze was Its weapon, the worst of them all, the quickest and sharpest. Because how are you supposed to avoid the overseeing gaze? You can’t. You can;t run and hide, you can’t just cover your eyes, because you’re not fast enough as soon as it appears, you’re dead. They had few images of the not yet woken up Perceiver. Tall, pale figure with majestic wings covered in even more eyes, broken halo, floating around Its neck like a broken collar, gleaming with red light, sharp claws and fangs, It was beautiful but deadly. It was hard to admit, but the TVA among the whole multiverse took a breath of relief as soon as it had fallen. And it was believed that despite its deadliness, Perceiver was the weakest among all the Concepts, weak link of the entire race. It was paralyzing to even think what the others were capable of. The highest rank was held by the Order, Concept of Concepts. Then Matter, Energy and Oblivion. Creators and the  destroyer. Then Gravity, Velocity and Space, holders of existence. And Perception the last, ability to see and judge. All of them also had Veils on their eyes, another layer of protection from the deadly eyes, but once the Veil is torn off, only the wings remain. 

“Then, why was it found in part of her? The infested part?” 

He asked after finally pulling himself out of that rehearsal over the Concepts. 

“We don’t know yet. We’re still working on it. Maybe it’s some sort of contamination? It doesn’t appear to power her up or anything like that. Maybe giver her broader field of vision, but she’s still lacking in fields like strength, speed, no healing whatsoever. I doubt there’s anything really worrying, but…” 

“But?”

“If we’ve found some sort of remains of It, I think we should still report back to the Boss. After all, we've sent the contaminated test subject to the Void, if Cassandra catches onto it… We might have a way harder time stopping her, than the last time.” 

The silence was heavy and suddenly, everything seemed much more serious than just a moment ago. They were pretty used to thinking that Cassandra was gone, and sometimes, just sometimes, they still tended to forget that she was very much back, and still seeped with the same hatred as before.

In the meantime, Alice and Cassandra were back in the Void. The sun was shining through, focused on Alice’s hands as she continued to cut paper into strips to make more paper stars. It was clear that the hangover got to her, not having any mercy on her poor mind and body. She was squinting her eyes each time a bit too much light hit her, causing another spark of headache to hit her and make her regret existing at all. 

“Care to explain anything?” 

“Don’t yell.” Alice huffed at Cassandra. “I have nothing to explain, I also have no idea what happened and now I feel terrible.” 

She sort of curled up into herself, pulling her feet up to rest them on the chair as well, hoping that this will help. She was nauseous, but Alice would rather tear through the fabric of time, thread by thread, than throw up. Nu-uh, no one will force her to do that. She moved the paper strips swiftly in her hands, it was almost a muscle memory for her to make those stars. Great thing to do when you want to pull on your own skin and hurt yourself, it was keeping both her mind and hands busy. 

Cassandra just scoffed in reply. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t even yelling! And she just wanted to learn more about what she saw. About what she went through. It’s not everyday that you just get teleported into Oblivion, even higher rank nothingness than the Void. It was amazing, even if they didn’t manage to stay there for long and ended up in some stupid forest, had to walk back all this way and in the meantime Alice got her hangover. Terrible trip.  Now it was only getting worse, watching this girl indulge in something so pointless was almost hurtful for Cassandra to watch, but she decided to go quiet for a bit longer, to ensure that her little lab rat will feel better before that talk. 

Minutes passed by, filled with distant sounds of chatting people outside and the little sounds of paper being weaved like some kind of fabric. Slowly, Alice was feeling slightly better, the hangover slowly passing, leaving her tired and a little uneasy, but at least not in pain anymore. She was still focused on making the stars, but her mind seemed to be somewhere away. Her eyes empty, unfocused, almost glazed over, she wasn’t there with her mind, wandering countless paths in her mind. 

“I can’t remember much from yesterday, but I can sure remember something that was deeply rooted in your mind. “ She spoke suddenly, turning to face Cassandra and tilting her head a bit to the side. “Why do you want to become more human?” 

That question caught Cassandra slightly off guard. How was she supposed to respond to that? She couldn’t really explain that desire at all, but she wanted to become something more human to fool them better, to leave this dump and destroy humanity from the inside out after time. And to do that, she had to become more human, more deceiving, a better copy of what she had left after her brother. 

“For now there’s only one thing you carry as good as humanity.”

“And what would that be?” Cassandra asked, almost taunting. 

“Brutality.” 

That was another surprise, something she didn’t really expect to hear probably ever. Brutality? How were humans brutal? They were defenseless, weak creatures. 

“I know what you think. Them? Brutal? Having no powers and being brutal? But yes, yes they are. One of the worst I fear. Killing just for the sake of killing, or even worse, for fun. Taking lives of innocent, just for beliefs or just to do it, to show who holds the real power. Animals, babies, elderly. Anyone who is inconvenient, the hatred they spread is more successful than any other poison, because it seeps through everything. Through words, air, water, even through screen, aiming right for the hearts of those who weren;t yet consumed to the last bit of them. And anything forbid you to have a different skin color, beliefs or your sexual orientation varies from the standard cis-het label.” Alice shook her head with a forced, sad laugh. Her eyes focused on the paper stars again. “Don’t you dare be disabled, even worse don’t you dare have an invisible from the  outside disability, and when you’re young? Forget about it! You can’t. You’re young. You have to be full of life, full of dreams and energy. You can’t be in pain. You can’t feel anything else than happiness. You have to match every standard ever set. Everything has to be up to the labels, your looks, sexuality, gender, troubles, amount of partners. What do you mean you're a virgin?Prude.  What do you mean you’re not one? Whore. You want to dye your hair? Are you crazy? All that LGBT propaganda got to you! Do you want mental health help? Shut up! It’s taboo you freak, keep it to yourself. What do you mean black people are normal people? They’re criminals! Shoot them! Kill them. He raped you? No, I know him, he wouldn’t, besides he has a whole life ahead of him, don’t say a word. You’re in debilitating pain every month? Lose some weight and get pregnant, it’ll help. What do you mean you don’t like sports? You like art? A man? Are you gay? Freak!” 

Alice stopped speaking for a short moment, her eyes glazed with tears as she looked outside, sun dancing in her tears almost like it was trying to wipe them away with gentle warmth, to heal some wounds that no one could see but they were going oh so deep. 

“They’re brutal. Of course there are good people, but they’re usually the targets of that poison, and it kills so well…” Alice whispered, before looking back at Cassandra with much softer eyes. “ After all, I doubt even you’re as brutal as them, but it matches to some extent…” 

As much as ridiculous it sounded, Cassandra felt bad for a split second. For being that kind of human. She was used to being perceived as a monster, but that hurt in some different way, a sharp sting she couldn’t really explain, but quickly pushed away, just looking at the girl in front of herself. If anyone else would call her that, they would’ve been dead by now, and it crossed her mind to do that. She even raised her fingers, but put them down just as quickly as she lifted them. Why? She didn’t know. 

[plussizefantasia]

CozyTober Day 12: Cozy Coffee Shop

Eliot Spencer x reader

wc: 0.6k

warnings: talks of conning people (its leverage so obviously)

a/n: I'll be happy to finish cozytober by the end of November so wish me luck. I need something to distract myself so writing it is

If there was one thing that you and Eliot had in common it was your commitment to the con. Eliot and you both found yourselves more often than not, fully slipping into the roles you’d play and this go around was no expectation.

Being a barista wasn’t a new thing to you, you had worked in a shop an awful lot like this one for years in high school, trying to make enough to pay your first year of tuition. You got pretty good at making coffee, you never quite managed the dealing with customers part of the job though.

There weren’t as many ridiculous concoctions back then either, you had no idea what a ‘caramel apple light roast crush’ was or the first steps to making it but about twelve people had ordered it in the past hour and you were this close to quitting and making Nate take over for you. 

“This is so dumb, whatever happened to a classic Americano or a long-pull black?” You spoke aloud.

“I’m not sure how anyone can drink that stuff.” Eliot’s voice spoke in your ear. “It’s mostly sugar and syrups.”

You couldn’t see him but knew that he was perched in a corner somewhere, probably sipping on his own coffee, a much simpler version of the sticky seasonal monstrosity you were currently working on.

“How long are we here for anyway?”

“Just until the mark comes in, you’ll put the receiver on the bottom of her cup and then Eliot will follow her to the office building and we’ll move to phase three.” Nate sounded about as tired as you felt. The whole team was running on fumes, you all had just finished a massive run at the Bank CEO halfway across the country and then had to rush over here because Alec had gotten a tip that one of the movers Nate had his eye on was shifting massive amounts of cash around which is never a good thing.

You clocked the mark the second she walked through the door. You almost felt bad for her. A bright young woman, interning for Rockwell and looking painfully frazzled. Not on the outside, of course, she looked the perfect part of a well-put-together young woman eager to learn but when you looked closer you could see the way her hand shook. The way her ponytail was slightly off center and her spit ends were getting pretty bad.

Mostly it was in her eyes. They were wide but relatively unfocused. She was miles away in her head. It made it that much easier to give her the bugged cup without her noticing a thing. 

“Okay, she has the cup so I’m done.”

“What do you mean you’re done?” Eliot’s voice came through the comms. “You’re only halfway through your shift.”

“Eliot… I don’t actually work here you do know that right?” Your voice held a significant measure of incredulity.

“I know that sweetheart but you can’t just leave, they’ll be understaffed and the moring rush is only half over.”

“Eliot get real, while I appreciate your commitment to the con I myself do not share the same desire to unionize every group of workers I meet. I’m tired, I’m sweaty and sticky and I’m going home.”

“I’ve only unionized one group of people on the job.” He sounded a tad petulant and you almost laughed loudly out loud.

“On the job being the key words there sweetheart.”

[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter 15

Everything will be Okay

series masterlist

Previous part: Cinnamon Roll Next Part: Crawl Home to You

Word Count: 6,979

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions of medical equipment, loss, abuse, PTSD, anxiety and depression.

"This is the worst thing I've ever done" Steve complained, puffing out short winded breaths as he worked at the table opposite you.

He decided he wanted to learn how to bake bread after watching you do it so many times. The patiences and techniques behind the art intrigued him, and there was no one better to learn from than you, the best of the best.

You laughed as you watched him struggle to knead the dough on the floured counter facing yours. His cheeks were turning pink and his dough was still shaggy and lumpy, he was completely envious of yours already becoming smooth and bouncy. "Don't look at mine, it's unfair to you. I have experience, comparison is going to kill all your confidence."

"My arms hurt" Steve emphasized.

"Your arms pulled an in-flight helicopter into the top of a building, and single handedly ended World War II. I'm pretty sure they can handle an artisan loaf, Baby." You smiled.

"How long have we been kneading?" He puffed out.

You peaked at the clock, "mmmm, 3 minutes."

"How long do we need to do this?"

"Usually 10"

"Okay, well, you must have arms of steel because this is impossible."

"I believe in you!" You encouraged him. "Use the heels of your palms, push the dough out then pull it back. You can even go diagonally, side to side."

"You're not even out of breath?" He noted in disbelief. "I feel like I'm asthmatic again."

"Do you need an inhaler? I'm sure I can find you one" A giggle slipped past your lips.

"You're a super soldier." Steve stated, his arms coming to a stand still to take a break. "There's no way someone can just do this."

"Here, let's swap. I got a good start on this one so it'll be easier for you." You said walking over to his side of the table, and taking over his dough while he moved over to yours.

"See, much easier. Now I'm a bread master!" He exclaimed, working with your dough that was already almost completely smooth rather than his shaggy mess.

"I knew you could do it! Great job, Stevie" You smiled.

"Thank you, thank you." He accepted your compliment.

A comfortable silence fell between you two as the sound of music filled your ears, you were obviously very concentrated on fixing the monstrosity of a dough pile Steve had left you.

It was sticking to every square inch of your hands, yet also incredibly crumbly and dry. You had no idea how he even went about creating such a substance, but you sure as hell were going to make it work, and you definitely weren't going to say anything about it.

He knew it wasn't correct, it was written all over your face but that made him happy. Watching you try to work with the crumbly goo with furrowed eyebrows and a smile that you tried to hold back warmed his heart, you were always so kind and encouraging.

"So..." Steve broke the silence.

"So?" You acknowledged.

"I was thinking."

"Oh gosh, that's scary..." You joked.

"Our anniversary passed not too long ago..." He mentioned, causing you to look up at him with a fond look on your face.

"That was six months ago" You pointed out, unsure if not too long was the proper description of how much time had actually passed.

Once all of the scary bumps that came along with establishing a new relationship were smoothed out, unlike the dough beneath your hands, your relationship with Steve was so smooth it glided by effortlessly and fast.

The concept of time since the blip in general felt quite odd, it felt like five years had passed by in the blink of an eye, yet the way of living with only half the population was so normal and routine now you couldn't imagine a time in which you lived a normal life before the blip.

That's exactly how you felt about your time with Steve as well. He moved in permanently next door, then before you knew it his lease was up and he moved in to your house. The spaces that were once yours were now yours and Steve's.

Four and a half years deep into your official relationship with the man and you couldn't even remember a time in which his easel wasn't always displaying a half completed work of art in the corner of the living room and there wasn't a Captain America suit tucked away in the very back of the closet, hiding away in a garment bag.

The two of you created the simple, care free life of your dreams. One in which the biggest struggle you faced on the daily basis was keeping the bakery stocked despite the ever growing crowds, and missing Steve whenever he was away on business to the compound in New York.

"So our anniversary is coming up!"'He enthused.

You laughed at his change of words, "only six months away!"

"Can you believe that four and a half years ago I waltzed in here for a cookie, and that simple choice single handedly changed both of our lives?" He questioned.

"Wow, kneading bread makes you so philosophical." You noted. "What a great choice you made, just goes to show that cookies really are the better part of life."

"You're the better part of my life, sunflower." He purposely cheesed causing you to look back up at him once more.

"How sweet" You acknowledged. "If my hands weren't covered in dough I'd reach up and boop your nose."

He laughed while he continued kneading your loaf that he was definitely going to claim as his now. "Maybe we could spend our half-anniversary in New York?"

Steve was going through a phase in which you could've never ever predicted, he hated going up to the compound now. He dreaded work trips, he hated how cold his room in the compound always seemed to feel, he despised all the memories that came to mind when he walked around.

From what you could understand through multiple conversations about this, he just didn't like being away from you. Being away from you when the blip happened and having no control over your arrest traumatized him in a way he would never admit, but in a way you could see in his eyes every time he had to leave town.

Regardless of what it was that made him resent the compound so much, you knew that it was a whole lot easier for him when you tagged along. So now he found a lot of creative reasons to try and drag you to New York.

Each reason was more creative than the last, and you said yes every single time he asked. At this point in your relationship, you were pretty sure you've spent over four months time in New York and it was starting to feel like a second home.

"You know you don't really need a reason to get me to New York right?" You smiled. "I'd love to spend our half anniversary with you, and I'll go with you to wherever you need to go."

"But coming up with a reason is half the fun" Steve admitted.

"Is this fun?" You questioned, motioning to the dough in your hands.

"This is exhausting!" He answered honestly, earning a laugh from you.

"You know what I love about going to the compound with you?"

"That Nat is there?" He questioned.

"That I get to learn about all the cool things you do for once. It's like going to the Avengers bakery and kneading the Captain America loaf!" You explained. "But yeah, I do love seeing Nat."

Steve giggled at your analogy, loving every second of watching your skillful hands try their absolute hardest to make his faulty dough pile work. "I'm always worried that you might be bored whenever I drag you with me."

"Bored?!" You emphasized. "My love, I'm a civilian in the Avengers compound. There's absolutely nothing boring about that."

"Okay, so next week you'll come with me?" He asked just to make sure.

"Of course" you reassured.

"Woohoo!" He shook his shoulders and hips in a little happy dance, hands sill focused on the dough. "Best day ever!"

You laughed at his response, "if this is the best day ever, then I think we should get out more."

"Okay, now is your chance to be honest with me." Steve prompted. "Does that dough lump have any potential at all of becoming anything close to a loaf of bread?"

"You know I love you very, very much?" You smiled, batting your eyelashes.

"Of course I do." Steve giggled.

"We're gonna have to squish this." You told him honestly. "But the bright side is that you're doing so well kneading that loaf, it'll be the prettiest, glutinous loaf to ever come out of this kitchen!"

"You said that so nicely, I'm not even upset about it" Steve shrugged, prompting you to smile.

You walked over to him and rocked up on your tippy toes before smacking a kiss to his cheek. "You're wonderful, we'll try again soon."

Before you knew it, you were right back in New York, smack dap in the compound. Whenever you were here you completely understood that Steve was here to work, so you never expected him to keep you entertained by any means. So you always brought your laptop and took care of business from the comfort of his room or the living room depending on what him and Nat were up to that day.

And 100% of the times you stepped foot into the Avengers home, whoever was lingering around always asked for you to bake them something, and you were always happy to say yes.

This particular night, Nat requested a chocolate chip cheesecake. After going to the store to get everything you needed, making all the parts and popping it in the oven, you started to do the dishes.

Muscular forearms wrapped around your stomach from behind, and the front of Steve's body warmly pressed against your back.

"How's it going, baby?" He questioned.

"Good, almost done in here." You responded while enjoying every second of his embrace. "How are you? Sleepy?"

"So tired." He confirmed. "I have a few hours of work left to get ready for the support group tomorrow but I think Nat is wrapping up for the night. You'll be okay?"

"Of course, I still have to input payroll and enter the supply delivery invoice for the bakery so I have plenty to do." You grinned, wiping your hands off so you could turn around to face him. When you did, you couldn't help but to admire him. His hair, his cute outfit, the fond yet tired look in his eyes. Reaching up, you squeezed his shoulders to try and relax his tense posture as his hands made their way to your hips. "You're so beautiful."

His cheeks turned pink before dropping his head onto your shoulder. "You're beautiful-er."

"Why does it have to be a competition? Just accept your handsomeness and move on" You giggled at his shyness, even after four and a half years together.

"Becauseeeee" he complained. "I'm lucky to have you, and I'm so happy you're here. Then, you're always really nice to me and all the people here that I love and I just can't even process how sweet you are."

You smiled before you both mutually leaned in for a kiss. "I promise you that I feel like the lucky one."

"Impossible." He shook his head in denial with his cheeks stilly adorably rosy. "Thank you for baking for us."

"Anytime, you know I love it."

Steve nodded in agreement. "I'll see you in a few hours?"

"I'll be here." You gave his shoulders another good squeeze. "We'll get those pretty eyes of yours some good rest."

By the time Steve finished up work and made his way back to the living quarters, it was already way past the bedtime he subconsciously made for himself to keep up with living with a baker. 10 at night felt like he had pulled an all nighter, and it seems as though that's how you felt as well considering he found you and Nat asleep on the couch.

Empty plates on the coffee table with Oreo crumbs being the only evidence of the cheesecake you made hours prior, and a movie that Steve had never even heard of playing on the TV provided the only source of light in the big space.

You and Nat had obviously gotten close and comfortable with each other, the shared blanket across your laps and your head plunked over onto Nat's shoulder with her head on top of yours made Steve smile and feel endlessly happy.

As much as you loved Nat, Steve knew Nat needed every drop of love and friendship you could give her. You both knew she was struggling ever since the blip, she spent every waking moment trying to monitor the world and find a solution. Steve didn't even know she was capable of settling down enough for even just a few hours to be able to fall asleep while watching a movie in the first place. You weren't just his sunflower, but everyone's who was lucky enough to earn your love.

Though he hated to break up the adorable scene in front of him, he was just as tired as the two of you evidently were and knew he should get you to bed.

He started by waking up Nat considering you were stuck beneath her. She was a light sleeper so it didn't take more than gently shaking her arm to wake her up, and she came to her senses quickly enough to immediately recognize what Steve was about to do.

"Good morning." Nat grinned, not lifting her head from the top of yours.

"Morning." Steve smiled. "Any chance I could get my girl back so I can send you two off to bed?"

"No. She's mine now." Nat denied. "Shes so cute and cuddly like a little puppy."

"You can have her back in the morning, but if she doesn't get some real sleep she gets a little grumpy." Steve bargained.

"Fine, but she's mine tomorrow. We're gonna go run some errands and grab lunch together."

"That sounds great, you could use a few hours away from this place." Steve encouraged.

"Just for that comment, I'm staying home." Nat joked.

"I will literally pay for both of you to go get your nails done if that means you'll get some fresh, non recirculated air." Steve sassed.

"A manicure and I get to take your girl out? Sign me up." She continued joking.

"The only conditions are that you go get some sleep and let me have nighttime custody of her so that she can get some sleep too."

"You're such a dad." She stated while carefully nudging your head off of her shoulder, then slowly standing up when she had successfully moved you off of her.

"Can I get you anything before you head off to bed?" Steve checked in.

"No, I'm okay. Thank you." She approached him and squeezed his shoulder before he just pulled her in for a hug anyways. "Goodnight, Rogers."

"Night, Romanoff." He reciprocated before letting go and she walked off into her room.

Now, he had you. His precious little lump on the couch. The dishes on the coffee table could be taken care of in the morning, and the TV would auto shut off in an hour or two. So he picked you up and held you tightly in his arms, and you immediately snuggled into neck.

He could tell you woke up at some point considering you started leaving little kisses to his exposed skin before he made it to his room. You were already in your pajamas ready to go, so he gently laid your down on the bed before he changed into some pajama shorts and brushed his teeth before laying down next to you.

Surprisingly, you were still awake and quick to pull the blankets over the two of you as you settled into each other. Appreciating the warmth of his soft bare skin, you laid your head on his chest and wrapped your arm tightly around his stomach, hand resting on the side of his rib cage.

You placed a little kiss to his collar bone before propping yourself up a bit on your arm to spark up a conversation you needed to get off your mind before you could truly get some restful sleep.

"How was the rest of your day, honey?" You questioned as one of his hands slipped up the back of your crewneck, the other drew little circles onto your hip.

"It was okay, pretty routine." He responded softly. "How's Nat doing?"

"That poor girl needs to get a life away from all of this." You sighed.

"I know" Steve nodded in agreement. "It's really hard to take a step back when you feel directly responsible, but it's not healthy. I've been encouraging her to get out more but she doesn't listen."

"I invited her to stay with us in Greenwood in a few weeks, hopefully she takes me up on that." You moved your hand up to his chest.

"That would be really fun." Steve grinned. "Did you have fun tonight?"

"Mhm, I mostly worked the whole time though." You admitted. "I actually wanted to talk to you about something before we sleep."

"What's going on?" He asked, you could tell he was paying a little closer attention now.

"So I ran some numbers on profit and what not, and just for shits and giggles I reached out to my lender and contractor to see if this was even a possibility when I had the idea but now that it's looking very possible, I wanted to see how you felt about this..."

"About what?" He raised an eyebrow in anticipation.

"What would you think about me opening a second location of the bakery?" You asked.

His face immediately lit up in a big smile. "Darling, that's incredible! You should absolutely do it if you feel comfortable enough."

"I do feel really good about it." You confirmed. His happy response made your heart soar. When you first opened Nice to be Kneaded, your last partner ridiculed you every single day. He thought the idea of owning a business would simply be too much of a challenge for you. He told you that you'd never succeed, that it would go under and cause debts for the rest of your life. Though you were at a point in your relationship with Steve where you never doubted his ability to be a kind person, his kindness still made you happy every single day. "The reason I really wanted to ask you is because I was advised the best location to break ground in would be New York."

His big smile grew even wider, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with adorable smile lines. "Are you for real?"

"Yeah" you giggled at his response.

"That makes me so happy!" He pouted his lip and furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm so proud of you."

"So I take it that you think this is a good idea?" The smile never left your face.

"I think it's the best idea you've ever had." He exaggerated.

"Then I guess I'll give it the green light first thing tomorrow morning." You settled the issue then settled back into his body.

The two of you talked for a little while about what life would look like with another bakery in New York. Both of you traveled back and forth so often now that dividing your time between two places was already second nature. He even pitched getting the two of you an apartment somewhere between the city and the compound so you both felt more at home when away from Greenwood. Though you loved the idea, you encouraged him to let all these thoughts settle for a day or two until you had a better idea on the logistics of this new endeavor. Besides, it was already late and you were both tired, there was nothing you could even arrange until the morning.

Though you felt settled and completely relaxed snuggled up to him, you played with his hair and tried to get him to relax too. You could feel his tension, but it was normal. No matter how exhausted he was, if he was at the compound his mind was busy and never quite turned off. His thoughts shifted from the happy thoughts of a future where the two of you hopped from bakery to bakery, big city Avenging to a small town simple life to something that had nothing to do with the sweet girl in bed giving him the most delightful cuddles he could've ever wanted.

You knew he was enjoying spending time with you even if his mind was up in the clouds, his hand that never stopped drawing shapes into your back told you that loud and clear.

"What are you thinking about, love?" You asked.

He let out a sigh and his eyes never left the ceiling, then his lips pressed into a straight line, then a forced grin and he finally looked at you. "What do we do if we can't find a way to undo what Thanos did?"

"What do we do," You motioned to the two of you "or what do the Avengers do?"

"Both. Either." He said, desperate to hear the right answer he couldn't find.

"Well I think both have the same answer." You shrugged. "Acceptance, then moving on."

He gave you the most adorable stink eye you've ever seen, so cute you had to hold back a giggle. "Why does everyone say that?"

"You preach it every time you hold a support group, no?" You questioned.

"That's different."

"How so?"

"Civilians aren't responsible for what happened, they deserve to live their lives exactly how they would if this never happened." He explained.

Whenever he spoke about the situation, you could feel a genuine pain in your chest. His feelings about the snap were like a rollercoaster. Some days, he could see the benefits, he could almost understand why Thanos did what he did. He could go about his day with acceptance, go to sleep with the intention of continuing to rebuild tomorrow. Then sometimes he'd wake up that next morning feeling the weight of every blipped person on his shoulders. As if he was the one who decided this needed to happen. That weight seemed to double every time he was in New York.

So with an ache in your heart, you tried to put a bandage over his. "Right now are you looking for the truth, or are you looking for reassurance?"

He groaned at your level-headedness, before shoving his face into your neck. "I'm looking for anything or anyone to just tell me it's going to be okay."

Understanding now that he needed reassurance instead of actual logical advice, you caressed the back of his head with your hand and used your other arm to hold him safe and sound against you. "Of course it's going to be okay, sweet boy.

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be so... grim, I just- I have to be strong all day every day for everyone else and sometimes you're the only one who can be strong for me." He admitted.

You kissed the top of his head a few times before providing the words he probably really needed to hear. "Life was okay yesterday, and the day before that, and it'll continue being okay tomorrow, and every day after that just like it has been for the past five years. Nobody blames you for what happened, and all of you guys deserve to move on too, not just civilians. The ground is still under your feet, the sky is still above your head and I'll never leave your side. The sun and moon are still taking turns, so I'm pretty confident when I say that everything is fine."

"That was great" Steve mumbled into your neck.

"Yeah? You feel any better?" You questioned with a smile.

"Mhm, I'm gonna use that in the support group tomorrow."

You smiled, though he couldn't see it before squeezing the back of his neck. "I love you, you're not going to bring back half the population from bed."

"I love you too, should I get up?"

"Go to sleep" You whispered directly into his ear, earning his sweet laugh that you loved so much.

"You first, traitor." Steve said playfully.

"Traitor?! Why am I a traitor?" You asked, feigning offense.

"You we're cuddling Natasha and not me." Steve fake cried.

You laughed before stating "Excuse me?! You've kissed Nat before, so I don't want to hear anything about my cuddles, sir!"

"Ugh?!" Steve was immediately taken back. "She kissed me and it was for a mission! Don't even start with that!"

You couldn't help but continue laughing at how flustered that statement made him. "Poor, Stevie! Your cheeks are so pink."

"I miss 10 seconds ago when you didn't bring that up." He pouted, a smile prevailing past his attempts to pretend like this conversation wasn't funny. "It was a life or death escape situation and we've never done anything romantic since then, okay?"

"I'm not bothered, baby" You continued smiling while prying his hands away from covering his face. "Were your bothered by our cuddles?"

"No, not at all." He denied. "I actually thought it was really adorable, I was just joking."

"And I think it's really cute that you and Nat shared a smooch" You pinched his cheek between two fingers.

"She implied that I was a bad kisser, by the way." Steve giggled. "So, neither of us enjoyed that experience."

You laughed at the confession before cooing, "awww poor, Stevie. Did that hurt your pride?"

"It wasn't a fair assessment, I wasn't ready for it." He defended himself.

"Exactly, you're a great kisser." You smoothed over the review that obviously stuck around with him for a while. "I know from experience!"

"Thanks, Baby. I appreciate your input on the matter." He gave your hip a nice squeeze.

"I'll be sure to talk to Nat about it in the morning to try and sway her opinions on it ." You joked.

"Absolutely do not do that" His eyebrows raised in horror.

You laughed once more before cupping his face and laying a long one on him. "I would never."

"Good, cause I think the sleepiness has taken over the both of our brains and made us a little crazy." He smiled.

You rested your head back onto its rightful spot on his shoulder, your hand rested over his heart and his free hand that wasn't on your back lovingly wrapped around your wrist. "Are you going to be able to shut your brain off long enough to fall asleep?"

"Of course" He appeased your worries about him. "I always sleep well when you're with me. You're like a little sleeping pill, the second you fall asleep on me, you put me to sleep too."

"Cheese ball" You poked fun at him with a content smile as you closed your eyes and wrapped the blankets tighter around the both of you.

"I might be cheesy, but I always will be. And I'm proud of it!" He agreed.

"I love it so much." You admitted. "And I love you so much."

"I love you too." He kissed the top of your head. "Goodnight, Sunflower."

"Sweet dreams, Stevie."

Not even two whole minutes of silence and attempts at sleeping went by before Steve gasped.

"Wait... are you asleep?" He asked, using his hands to dramatically shake you. "Wake up! This is important!"

"I'm awake, I'm awake!" You alerted his urgency. "Jeez dude, you're scrambling my brain."

"Oh good! You're awake!" He said. You didn't have to see his face to know he was wearing a big sarcastic smile. Steve's favorite hobby was definitely being a little shit.

"What a blessing." You mumbled.

"I forgot to ask you out on a date tomorrow night!" He enthused.

"Sorry dude, I think we're better just as friends." You carried on the tradition of your favorite inside joke.

"Sooooooo... should I cancel the engagement ring?" He quipped.

Recently the two of you were talking about getting married a lot, and if there was two things you both agreed on it's that a marriage was definitely in the books for the two of you soon, and that being engaged should never be truly be a surprise. Sure, time and place of the proposal as a surprise was the fun part, but both of you setting clear intentions and a well timed future that flowed at a comfortable pace for the two of you was important.

"A date sounds great!" You overly enthused.

"Great! I made dinner reservations without asking first so I'm glad you said yes."

"Risky business, Rogers." You smiled.

"Okay now go to sleep." He giggled.

"You first..." You poked his chest with very low effort.

When the morning came, you were up and out way before Steve was to start your morning with Nat. She wanted to get back to the compound before a planned call with affiliates of the Avengers, so the two of you snuck out before most of the compound was awake. Much like most mornings when you woke up before Steve, you covered him up with the blankets nice and snug, kissed him goodbye, and wished him a great day.

A nice long walk and chat followed by coffee, breakfast, and a nice relaxing manicure had Nat feeling brand new.

You dropped her off at the compound then left again to meet up with a friend of yours that lived pretty close by. While catching up on each others lives for a few hours, Steve called you.

Figuring he didn't realize you were busy, you denied the call to clue him in to text you instead. You often times did this if he needed to get through to you at work. But this time, your sunflower necklace lit up four times, a number that didn't have a code attached, then your phone rang again.

Figuring it was probably important, you excused yourself and quickly picked up the call.

"Hi, baby." You spoke timidly into the phone.

"Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt I know you're busy." He sighed. You could tell by his tone that his brain was fried.

"No worries, is everything okay?" You questioned.

"Remember Scott Lang? Ant-Man?" He asked.

"Yeah, yeah I do." You nodded though he couldn't see you. "He was blipped right?"

"You see, that's the weird part." Steve puffed out a confused chuckle. "He's at the compound. He just... showed up."

"What?!" You said louder than you probably should, earning weird looks from strangers around you.

"Yeah, he was stuck in the quantum realm and now he's here, and we think-" He started but cut himself off to think about how he was going to phrase this without worrying you.

But the pause was deafening. "You think what?"

"I think you should make your way back here whenever you're done with your friend so we can talk about it more."

"That sounds so scary" You admitted.

"No, everything is fine. I promise." He reassured you.

"Should I come home right now?"

"No, baby, it's okay" He tried to calm you down once again. "Nothing to be anxious about. I just think we need to visit Tony and get a few other ducks in a line and I want to make sure I can get you someplace safe before we start looking into this more."

"So you guys found some good hope?" You asked, this time with a smile knowing that's exactly what Steve needed.

"A lot of hope and possibly the craziest pipe dream of all time, but we can get into that when you get here, okay?"

"Okay" You sighed. "Everyone's okay?"

"Everyone is fine." Steve smiled. "I want you to keep having fun with your friend. I'll see you later."

"See you soon. Love you"

"Love you too."

Though he tried his hardest to reassure you that everything was fine, you couldn't clear your head of the endless possibilities of what this could mean for the future of the whole universe. Those thoughts didn't even allow you to fully appreciate or give your undivided attention to your friend, so you called it a day as soon as you could. And when you arrived back at the compound, you immediately spotted Steve sitting outside on a bench.

You could tell his mind was occupied by a billion racing thoughts, his breathing was steady and there was a pinch in his brows.

Approaching slowly and sitting next to him, he wrapped you up in a side hug before kissing your temple and letting you go. "What's going on, Honey?"

He sighed in appreciation as your hand found its way to his back, rubbing long, firm strips up and down to comfort him. "We think we can time travel."

"What?" Your hand stopped in place.

"Go back in time before Thanos, get the stones from a bunch of different points in time, snap again." Steve explained like it was the most simple idea in the world.

"But..... how?" You we're blown away by the possibility, but the biggest part of you was terrified of what that meant for him, the world, and the entire future.

"Something to do with pym particles and a quantum tunnel, I don't really understand it." Steve explained, his mind was wandering miles away from him. "We have Bruce en route to work on that, but we're going to get Tony. Try to assemble the whole team again."

You didn't quite have the words at the moment, nor the time to even process this as a possibility. Whenever you couldn't quite grasp a concept that was much larger than you, but whenever you felt so tiny in the vastness of the universe, Steve was always there to put you on his shoulders and make you feel big again. "How do you feel about this?"

"I feel ready to just get it done." He explained.

"Are you scared?" You plopped your head down onto his shoulder, he nestled his cheek into the crown of your head.

"No" He denied softly. "Are you?"

"If you're not then I'm not" You smiled. That was a lie, but you always tried to not burden him with your own fears.

Though letting him out of your grasp and straight into battles often appeared in your own nightmares, you reeled in your feelings as to not disrupt his own peace. As often as you wanted to tell him to be careful, beg him not to do risky things like go to space in a ship being piloted by a raccoon to kill a titan that killed half the universe, you trusted him. His entire life was rich with risk assessment that only made him more and more successful the more he lived.

So if he wasn't scared, you'd try not to be either.

"Well, maybe that's a lie. Maybe I am a little scared." Steve retracted his statement.

"Well shit" You joked, earning a laugh from the sweet man.

"I'm scared it's not going to work, and I'm scared of putting anything on the line when my only goal for the future is a life with you." He admitted. "Everything else, I'm not scared of."

This time, your arms wrapped him up and didn't let him go. He was letting his Steve Rogers shine through in a place you typically only saw Captain America. Though he would argue that those two people were the same, you thought he was so very wrong.

Steve was still the little guy he once was. Sensitive and gentle, he'd cry over videos of cute animals doing cute things, decorate cookies with you and asked to be cuddled for as long as he could get you to stay still. But Cap... Cap was strong. Nothing could tear him down. When the uniform was on or public and teammates eyes were on him, he had to be the leader. He stood tall, refused to shed a tear regardless of any circumstance thrown his way. Everyone looked at him to guide them through.

You loved both versions of him, and both were truthful of his character, but it was also true that Steve was a version of himself he was only comfortable showing to the people he loved the most.

So you gave Cap the space he needed to be firm and strong, and gave Steve the space he needed to be vulnerable. Sometimes that looked like a little snuggle on a bench outside of the Avengers compound.

Very surface level and as deep down as could be, he knew that Cap couldn't be the fighter he was without you nurturing Steve. He was strong because you were compassionate, and everyday he amounted his power to you.

"I love you so very much," you started.

"But?" He raised an eyebrow, already anticipating the kicker.

"But doing this is exactly what you need in order for you to live the life you want." You explained. "You and I both know you'd live the entire rest of your life with guilt if the Avengers don't find a way to fix this. And though I don't agree that any of this is your fault, I know you feel that burden every single day. So in a certain way, I think for once, this is a great fight for yourself."

He sat and considered it for a second. "I don't have it in me to fight for myself, so I'm going to consider this a fight for you."

"A happy, relaxing future with you is all I want." You kindled his fire. Though you wished he could fight for himself, any incentive to get him through would work in this moment. "And i'd love to see Sam again and meet Bucky."

"I miss them so much" Steve stated, you could hear the sadness in his voice.

You lifted your head to give him a kiss. Your soft lips mingled for a little while before pulling away and resting your forehead against his. "Everything is going to be okay."

"I think so too" He agreed.

"And if it doesn't pan out the way you all hope, then I hope you know that everything will be okay that way too."

"Well that's not an option." He gently shook his head.

"Hard headed!" You pulled away and raised your hand to gently poke him right in the center of his forehead. He laughed, knowing his words would irritate you. "You drive me crazy!"

"I love driving you crazy" His smile prevailed.

"Really? I couldn't tell." You said sarcastically, feeling the effects of his contagious smile.

"And I'd love it even more if I can keep annoying you on our date tonight." He brought up.

"Stevie" Your face softened. "We can reschedule that if you need to, you know I understand."

"No, I definitely don't want to cancel that." He denied firmly. "Not to bring up the past or anything, but the last time I rescheduled a date it didn't turn out too well for me."

"Awwwww" You cooed. "Classic Cap history"

"Yeah, and we're rewriting it because I'm not doing that again" he said with a chuckle.

"I'm more than happy to help you out with that" You agreed, giving his leg a little squeeze. "How's Scott doing? I'm sure this is a lot to process."

"He seems to be doing alright, but that leads me to something Nat and I talked about that I wanted to present to you."

"What's up?"

"It's no secret that you're kind've one of the most amazing and comforting humans alive, and we were supposed to go home in 2 days but..." He took a moment to find the right words. "I'm my best when you're around, and whether you've noticed or not, everyone is happier when you're here. So we were wondering if you could stay a little longer just to kinda help keep spirits up. I know you have the bakery at home but it could be a pretty crucial part in saving half the world."

"I can't imagine I'd have any crucial part in any of that, but I'll stay for you alone." You giggled.

"Obviously I'll bring you home before the time travel happens because it's such unknown territory, I'd want you far away from the compound. But we're going to bring everyone we've got here, including Thor who we heard is going through a rough patch. I think your love would go a far way."

"And cookies" You grinned.

"Cookies would definitely help."

"Can Rocket eat chocolate chips?" You pondered.

"He's a raccoon, not a dog." Steve reminded you.

"That doesn't answer my question." You eyebrow raised. "What about Nebula? Do cyborgs eat food? Ooh! I know Bruce likes chocolate, and Tony likes hazelnut because they had those Ben and Jerry's ice cream flavors so maybe I'll make Nutella cookies so it's the best of both worlds. Do you know what Rhodey likes? I have Nat covered. Thor probably li-"

"Baby, Baby" Steve cut you off with a giggle. "Don't stress yourself out now. You're not here to take care of us, just keep being you"

"This is me." You laughed. "Have you ever seen me not like this?"

"You know what? That's fair." He agreed.

"Ooh! And I bet Nat knows exactly what Clint would want!" You chirped. "...I should call the bakery..."

Next Part: Crawl Home to You

Tag List: @patzammit @bemysugarbean @buckymydarlingangel @happinessinthebeing @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @differenttyphoonwerewolf @themotherof10 @talesofadragon @spikeluv84 @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bitchy-bi-trash @crazyunsexycool @openup-yourmind @selella @kattreffic @benedict-squirtle @magnificentsaladllama @theroyalmanatee @calwitch @avengersinitiative2012 @rogersbarber @daddywattpad4945

[serenit-teas]

Me, riddled with delusion <- (is a 6'3 P enjoyer and believer)

I just!!! I know everyone has commented on it in some way shape or form and I guess it's my turn to throw my two cents in😔 god I should not have the freedom to ramble on this app

Like!! This guy, this one man battalion is terrifying in concept. A puppet with an incredibly rare (and deadly) ability to lie, with advanced combat skills and power that only seems to enhance thanks to the Ergo that can be encountered in his ventures, and an imposing figure to round it all out. In theory it screams threat, danger.

But then you meet him, see how meek and gentle he is with everyone in Hotel Krat. Once, witnessing Spring recoil at his advance, hissing and all but swatting at him. Though being able to emote was one of the few things he could not yet do, you swear he seemed to wilt after the encounter with the feline. During the rockier moments of becoming acquainted with the cat, he would never grow frustrated after the failed attempts, understanding and respecting that she's not comfortable around him. He would simply leave her be, and try again later.

He rarely speaks, and if he does it's one word or a clipped phrase, not out of rudeness or anything of the sort, it's new and quite frankly, there's a high chance that he simply wouldn't know what to say.

There's something of a quite excitement and giddiness in P when he brings a new record back to the Hotel, not only does it mean that he gets to experience what this recent find has to offer, but also that any of the other residents of the Hotel can enjoy the spoils of his journey.

He listens and takes heed in what people say, no matter if it's critical information in regards to his outings, passing comments of bygone days, or just ramblings in any variety, he listens, makes the people around him feel heard and understood. (Even if some things go over his head)

He'll realise some time or later that he LIKES making the people he's met happy*, seeing their faces light up in glee or relief.

It's a small victory in the hell they're all surviving.

Every time I think of P I imagine this gentle giant who is so achingly soft spoken and sweet, who is aware of his immense strength and takes care to never harm those he treasures. And in turn that leads to the BEST juxtaposition of the raw carnage he's capable of! This guy can rip through sturdy puppets and manmade horrors like they're wet tissue paper, has stared down monstrosities and come out on top, can bounce back from injuries that would leave others utterly mangled at best.

He is a terrifying concept and there's no denying what he can easily do if he so chose, but his conscious effort to exhibit the utmost care when surrounded by fragility makes my heart MELT. Soft boy P will forever have me hooked no matter what, but there's something about a tall boy with a heart of gold (literally) who, despite still learning how to live and experience, understands his presence around others.🥺

*(Not that he would want to see them upset, I think at first there would be a nuetral understanding of "What happens here affects me and my progress." Just a thought though!)

[the-derpy-duck]

2012 Donnie’s characterization bothers me so much because he could have been so much more interesting if more time was spent on aspects other than his crush on April.

Like yeah it’s not his only character trait but the way they both interact and how obnoxious and creepy it is brings both of their characters down. Donnie and Mikey both want to interact with humans more than Leo and Raph. Donnie understands more than Mikey that they can’t just go up and talk to humans. I’ll come back to this in a bit. There’s an entire episode about Donnie needing to learn to not over think everything. There are also some aspects of his relationship with April (the interaction map and him being extremely afraid of her not only rejecting him but hating him) that make me think he has some sort of anxiety disorder. Leo tells him to just ask her to hang out and Donnie insists that it isn’t that simple. He wants to plan out every possible situation. Leo also calls him special in one episode. He also refuses to eat in favor of doing more research into the monkey Rockwell thing. A lot of his interactions with April can be explained by him having a crush and being an awkward teenager but generally he gives off vibes. Donnie generally across media reads to me as being Neurodivergent.

In the episode where he has to learn to stop overthinking, April and Dr. Falco refer to mutants as monstrosities. Granted they weren’t talking specifically about the turtles and I think April was just trying using the same language Falco was using to describe specific experiments. Earlier in the episode she also expresses discomfort/disgust at the idea that they were experimenting on animals. Basically I don’t think April was intending to be hurtful or insulting towards her friends and Falco wasn’t but regardless this establishes how humans feel about mutants. Most if not every human also reacts to the turtles with fear or disgust the first time they see them as well. So it has been established that humans do not like mutants and have both an implicit and explicit bias against them.

So the turtles need to be extremely careful with who they reveal themselves to. Leo says that people tend to treat them better when they don’t know that they exist. Splinter definitely pushed this mindset on them but like… he’s not wrong. Donnie does want to interact with humans, it’s not a major aspect of him but it’s still there. All the turtles want to interact with humans to some extent, and they all want to go outside, but also Donnie is the first to really push talking to a human. I will come back to this in a moment.

One thing I think that 2012 did fairly well was establish the brothers dynamics. Raph and Mikey interact in a way that Donnie and Mikey wouldn’t and this can be said for every brother duo. Raph and Leo’s relationship has the most focus in the show but the other relationships are shown. However, I feel like the relationship between Donnie and Leo could have been further explored. Leo shows concern for Donnie and takes minor interest in what he does, but after season two they sort of begin to fall apart. They fought over strategy and eventually that led to Leo getting thrown through a window and the gang had to flee New York City. Leo is seriously injured and has to go through a whole recovery arc. To my knowledge, fight they had isn’t brought up. They mainly interact in group settings together or on missions and the most notable interactions they have are them fighting with each other. Leo puts pressure on Donnie to make an antimutigen and Donnie snaps at him. He always has to find a solution. Donnie wants to kill Vizioso and this causes a fight between him and Leo (Vizioso will be relevant later). They are in space, Fugatiod’s head has been chopped off and Leo is putting pressure on Donnie to fix the ship and Donnie snaps at him before backing down immediately. That wasn’t technically a fight and it was just generally a stressful situation. Leo definitely cares about Donnie and I don’t think he realized what he’s doing when he tells him to work harder. If Donnie wasn’t in most tmnt shows, they’d be fucked. His gadgets have saved their asses so many times across tmnt media. The idea of Donnie feeling overwhelmed or unappreciated is interesting to me. But Leo is unintentionally putting pressure on Donnie and their relationship is fairly tense. Leo also joins Kari and this snowballs into Donnie getting caught in an explosion Leo was partly responsible for. Which wasn’t purposeful but I think it’s important to mention. This is also what causes Leo to stop running with the foot clan if I’m not mistaken so that counts for something. Leo also asks Donnie why he wasn’t eating and then a lot later in the show Donnie asks Leo if he’s going to play dnd with them. Which is cute, I like that they both look out for each other at different points outside of battle. But they still have a very tense relationship that really could have been explored more.

Don Vizioso. So remember the anti-mutant thing from earlier? In season four(?) Donnie and Raph have a little fight and Raph quits the team again. Donnie and another mutant get captured by Vizioso’s mob and they almost vivisect Donnie. Vizioso has been developing anti mutant weapons and he thinks mutants are subhuman. Surprise surprise they don’t cut open one of the main characters on screen and he’s fine. But like. That’s an extremely traumatic event. I know they’ve watched their dad die like five times by now and have had a lot of near death experiences but they wanted to cut him open while he was completely lucid with no painkillers. That’s really fucked. Like a lot of messed up things happen in this show but that in particular just disturbs me. Donnie has been constantly exposed to humans hating mutants. His biggest fear in that one episode was April rejecting him, not just as a romantic partner but as a friend and person. If I remember correctly hallucination April calls him a freak. Donnie wants to kill Vizioso because of what he tried to do to him. And he would have used the information he gathered from Donnie to hurt him family. Vizioso directly puts the people Donnie cares about in danger. When Donnie is about to kill him, he sees his reflection in the knife on his bō staff and he can’t do it. Earlier in the episode he freezes when a guy with a hammer is about to attack him and Leo drops a chandelier on the guy. So he’s dead I guess. There’s also this whole thing about a heart and reviving shredder but it’s not really relevant to my point.

Leo’s arguments against killing Vizioso is ‘we need to get the heart not revenge’ and ‘this isn’t you’. I wish they had a conversation. Leo did something sort of similar and it only lead to more problems. I wish Leo attempted to relate his own experience back to Donnie’s current one. I wish they had a conversation just about everything. I wish it was shown that Donnie was impacted by what happened with Vizioso in other episodes outside of ‘heat of evil’. I wish Donnie and April’s relationship wasn’t written the way it was. Like he has a crush on her, fine. But why is it half his personality and why is he so fucking creepy? Most romantic relationships in tmnt 2012 suck ass and I wish they didn’t.

I think it would have been really cool if Donnie started out a lot more hopeful and positive towards humanity but over the course of the show he becomes more guarded because he doesn’t want his family to get hurt and they are constantly targeted by humans. Donnie feeling guilt over Mikey getting seriously injured at the end of ‘heart of evil’ would have been fun. I think it would have been interested if him and April were able to just be friends. If at the end of the big foot episode instead of kissing him when he said that he was ‘just a mutant’ and her saying he wasn’t ’just a mutant he was her mutant’ she said ‘you aren’t just a mutant your my friend’. Because that scene at least implies that Donnie views himself as lesser than because he is a mutant and he is worried about people rejecting him based on this perceived inferiority. Having that be a consistent part of his character that is actually addressed could make for an interesting character arc about accepting yourself and finding peace in a world that hates you for existing. Some people will hate you for things outside of your control and that is not your fault. They are in the wrong and they have no right to treat you poorly. April’s character would have also been a lot stronger if she didn’t kiss him. It could have been a really nice moment for both of them where they are able to acknowledge how much they mean to each other, even if it isn’t a romantic type of caring. But really the only way to fix ‘a foot too big’ is to never had written it in the first place. (The writers needed a gay best friend/ref)

Also let Donnie and Casey be friends. You wrote the relationship already why did you just abandon it? What was the point? April, Donnie, and Casey can all be friends and do stupid shit together. I think ‘chaos junky’ ‘fuck you I have a knife and super powers’ and ‘fuck you I built a nuclear missile because I was bored’ would be really funny. They’d burn down the goddamn world but nooooo.

And there’s other things about 2012 that I don’t like and that could have been great. The writers hyperfixate on Leo, which is most egregious in the second half of season 4. And I like 2012 Leo. He’s a good character. But there’s four to five other characters that are sidelined in favor of him and I wish it wasn’t like that. Raph and Leo both are well developed characters but they keep cycling through the same fucking argument. It’s been five fucking seasons of this why is Leo being the leader still a conflict? I wish Mikey was explored a bit more too. He doesn’t want to be leader and because everyone else does that makes him the most interesting turtle in the room. Hell he doesn’t have to really develop. He can be completely happy and fine with his position in life. Obviously he’d like human friends and he’s lonely, but he doesn’t mind where he currently is. He doesn’t want to be leader he doesn’t want to be someone different. He is content. Maybe the way his brothers act makes him feel sort of isolated. They watch shows together and play dnd and do a lot of activities together but the others also have other major interests. Raph and Leo both take training really seriously and Donnie spends a lot of time in his lab and just studying shit. Raph and Leo also fight a lot and Mikey spends a fair amount of time in Donnie’s lab because he likes spending time with his brother. Mikey spaces out a lot but he’s still observant. Maybe he gained a lot of secondary knowledge just by watching Donnie. He’s shown to have a lot of potential and is talented. He is good at fighting and improvising. Maybe he’s still really lonely despite being surrounded by family that loves him. Also he doesn’t need to be given love interests. It just feels like they are trying to fill a quota but Mikey seems completely ok with not being romantically involved with other people and out right stated that he wouldn’t ever have a crush on a girl. Which I guess is the writers trying to show his youth because the next scene is him falling in love with Renett. They can be friends, let them besties. Aromantic Mikey supremacy. His other romance with Shinigami goes nowhere and also she’s a lesbian and dating Kari. Leo also makes me happier when he is friends with Kari and Shinigami and not romantically involved with his sister >:(

And these things that i mentioned above for both Mikey and Donnie don’t need to be all encompassing. I think they could be potentially fun character arcs or just something to explore for the character. 2012 had five seasons they could have fleshed them out more. Mikey is constantly the butt of jokes and they constantly flip flop between him being incompetent (outside of dimension x) and him being just as capable as his brothers. Donnie has a fair amount of screen time but most of it is so hard to watch because of the whole crush thing. I hate it here.

I don’t know how to conclude my thoughts. It’s been a while since I actually watched all of tmnt 2012 so I don’t remember everything but I’ve been rewatching rise and I watched tottmnt so I’ve had turtles on my mind. 2012 writers are my worst enemies.

[thewertsearch]

CG: AND IF THIS WASN'T BAD ENOUGH CG: YOUR "SOLUTION" LATER WOULD BE TO OPEN A RIFT IN SOME GLORIOUS GESTURE OF MEANINGLESS SUICIDE.

Karkat seems convinced that the Scratch is suicide - but this is an early Karkat, who doesn't really understand the situation. The Rift is the last thing he can see, so he assumes it's the end of the line.

White Carapacian jumpscare!

The last time we saw the Exiles, WV had just revealed the White Queen's Ring - which means that, unless I am very much mistaken, a new god is about to be born.

The critical question, of course, is whether a pseudo-First Guardian can teleport in and out of the Medium. If so, Jack's reign of terror is about to be interrupted, and we're about to learn why he doesn't instantly kill the Players - he'll be distracted by a rival.

EB: so, she prototyped becquerel? EB: why is that so bad? [...] CG: HER LUSUS EXHIBITS THE PROPERTIES OF A LEGENDARY ENTITY CALLED A FIRST GUARDIAN. CG: IT IS AN ABSOLUTE MONSTROSITY.

But he was a good dog. Jack, decidedly, is not.

It's worth speculating about what other effects Becquerel's prototyping will have. Jack is obviously the most immediate consequence, but Bec isn't just in Jack - he's everywhere. He suffuses the session.

Even Underlings will contain some First Guardian energy. They can't have Bec's full range of abilities, the same way Sgrub's Underlings couldn't unleash the Vast Glub - but I'm sure they're still grossly overpowered. Even if Jack wasn't a factor, the game would still be on Nightmare difficulty.

And what of the Battlefield? What effect will the Green Sun's rays have on its appearance, or the world it's supposed to spawn?

This feels like an ingredient that absolutely should not be part of your universe - and if First Guardian energy has made its way into The Tumor, we might have an even bigger problem on our hands than Perfect Jack.

Every station knows what's going to happen to it - so, naturally, this one has an 'undo getting blown up by Becsprite' button.

If only the Earth had one of these...

CG: AS THE DEFENDERS OF THEIR PLANETS, THEY'RE VIRTUALLY OMNIPOTENT. CG: PROTOTYPING ONE IS ABSOLUTELY UNCONSCIONABLE.

There's that misaimed 'omnipotent' again. I guess it doesn't really matter if it's technically not accurate - as far as an average Player is concerned, First Guardians may as well be omnipotent.

...although, Jack isn't really a First Guardian, is he? He's just wearing a ring that lets him exhibit the traits of one. I doubt he's as powerful as Bec, and his connection to the Green Sun might not be as strong - which is, I think, why Rose believes she can use it against him somehow.

[confessions-official]

today, i found myself trapped at the bottom of a very steep, very long, winding hill (dont ask why, not gonna get into it). i was like well, fuck, guess i have to climb that shit. it was the only option. my day was absolute shit and the last thing i wanted to do was hike this monstrosity of a hill (i am incredibly unathletic with zero stamina whatsoever). but i had no other choice, so i did that shit. it took frequent breaks. but i did not give up and i think thats awesome. i had to motivate myself by saying things like "i deal with worse than this every day! i deal with things so much more painful!" (immensely struggling with my ptsd rn), and whenever i would think things like that, i would speed up despite how tired i was. i would think "i have hiked literal mountains much taller than this for much longer, and in high altitude, too!" (i <3 traveling to/hiking in mountainous areas) and that would power me up.

i dont know. it just felt like in those moments, my mind and my body were two separate entities, with my mind encouraging my body to keep trucking, and my body listening to my mind. it felt very nurturing—i guess i was being very kind to myself.

in the end, i made it up the hill. do my legs hurt like hell? yes. but also, i feel like i gained a new insight of sorts.

i feel like my hillside musings can be applied to so many things in life. i find it so difficult to push myself to do hard things, but i just need a way to motivate myself. i need to tell myself about all of the harder things i have done and do every day, and how whatever Menial Task i am dreading pales in comparison. i think that this mindset can help me climb a lot of metaphorical hills, and could even help me beat an addiction of mine that i have been battling for years. when everything in my body tells me not to do something, or to do something harmful, i need to have my inner voice push through the urges and lift me up that hill... i dont know.

i think that maybe my little epiphany could help some of you guys, too. so, here it is, my confession about how i learned a lot about myself after climbing up a very difficult hill by necessity. i learned that i have a lot more stamina than i thought i did, too. my feelings of pride and satisfaction far outweigh any of the pain—i need to remember this.

 

[wwerasliin-sideblog]

Jimmy continuing to show a little growth and maturity this week, in some aspects —

"We Are The Ones." - Roman. "Yea, but we're not though." - Jimmy. — Jimmy is starting to see things for what they truly are, he's seeing the here and now, reality, not living on past laid, power and accolades (as Roman mentions), he's being realistic about their situation, where they're at, right now. In this moment.

He sees they need help, he sees it for what it is, as it is. He's not got unrealistic expectations - he's had the opportunity to see it more *clearly*, from afar, being stuck at home, giving him some time and some clarity.

He's had time, time away; from being sucked into the epicenter of it, from the chaos mulling all around, at every turn, and every corner... It's given him the space and time to think, contemplate, reflect, learn and grow. He knows better now, he's more level-headed. At least, he seems to be for now.

He's got another thing coming though, if he thinks that Jey is going to drop everything and come running to them, just cause they ask nicely. Especially after what they BOTH did to him, hurting him and tormenting him, manipulating him and using him, playing with him, with his life like that; everything they put him through.. But, I will say, I'm glad to see Jimmy humble himself enough to acknowledge that they need help.

And I get that Jimmy has his own issues with Jey, but most of all, it comes from a place of hurt. He's only ever wanted to protect Jey, at least that's how it started out, but it slowly festered into something more nefarious, bitter and ugly..

But right now, there's a bigger problem to deal with. They may just have to put aside their issues, just for a moment to deal with this ridiculous monstrosity in front of them. They will surely have to circle back to and deal their own issues once they've dealt with this, this hideous and convoluted excuse they call the new Bloodline. Or, prove me wrong and sort fix yourselves first, before you try and sort fix something outside of yourselves.

There's a lot of healing to be had.

[lordkingsmith]

Your Honest Opinion Ask: 5 Rangers teams cobbled from space and time--some from the same series, some not--that would work best for a new comic series.

…like the retro rangers? HM WELL.

How weird should I even GO

Alright I’m going to have one for a laugh and one for serious mhm mhm. Because “best for a comic series” has a wide range. You want it to be a comedy slice of life silly or do you want it to be a serious story? We’ll do hypothetical 2. Because it’s me there’s plot and character dynamic too lol

The comedy;

And for this I’m imagining a sort of back up ranger slice of life, they goof off until they have to do ranger stuff and nobody ever expects these guys.

The Red;

Rocky DeSantos. Food obsessed goofball who’s actually pretty good at de-escalation without resorting to actual fighting. Perfectly capable but for this he’s decided (maybe it’s a bet maybe it’s not) he’s going no fighting. He has a “how many days without incident escalation” board. It’s inexplicably always at 0. Any time someone brings it up it’s an even more ridiculous reason than before.

The Blue;

Maddie Rocca. She’s a documentarian now but every single time she’s in the middle of something she gets the call for the ranger stuff. Is trying to do a documentary on natural wildlife but somehow is constantly ending up with indisputable proof places are haunted or Bigfoot is real or something. Even when she’s trying to interview musicians it’s supernatural. Usually the one who has to call in the rest of the rangers, if she’s filming the monster of the week.

The Pink;

Kendrix Morgan. She’s alive! She’s doing ok! She’s a back up ranger and perfectly fine with it. Struggling to adjust to civilian life. Is not afraid to cause nightmares. She’s sweet but intense. Usually the one referencing why none of the other teams/rangers are available. It’s usually as ridiculous if not more than the reason why Rocky’s board is always at 0. She lives with Photon and they’re both sort of learning how to exist together. It was tense at first, but now they’re genuinely friends. Usually mistaken for siblings.

The Yellow;

Kelsey Winslow. Besties with Rocky, kinda’s become in charge of youth center activities. Usually has a gaggle of kiddos following her around, usually has to save the kiddos following her around. Tries to be responsible, is not responsible, is usually the reason Rocky’s board is always at 0.

The Black;

Photon. Karone figured they’d do good adapting to working with other rangers, and Photon’s not against it. He gets to video chat and visit his siblings often, and with Kendrix he’s been acclimating fairly well. It’s been a little bit rocky but he’s doing ok. A lot of his plots are him having mild misunderstandings taken to the extreme and then working through it. Works as a bakery. Bad customers no longer dare come in with an attitude. He’s threatened them. None of the people who work at the bakery with him are going to fire him, he’s the best chance they’ve ever taken on someone. Is the reason Rocky gets an unlimited supply of various baked goods; Rocky convinced them to hire Photon.

The sixth Ranger;

Antonio Garcia. Antonio needed a break. He really needed to just live for a bit, so he came to this town. He helps the other assorted rangers there, but only when he absolutely has to. Always annoyed about it, but he’s always showing up. Is a cartoonist. He works for the newspaper and his strips are always very similar to the Situation of the Week. Good at wrapping morals up in sarcastic jokes.

-

The serious:

Most of the teams have been rounded up and butchered/imprisoned/experimented on and turned into…fun…monstrosities/brainwashed. Theres a scattered handful of resistance fighters who are rangers. None of them from the same team. Friend and foe alike have to put their differences aside to take care of business. Master Vile is on the prowl and everyone is doing their best.

The Red;

Jack Landors. Last thing Jack wants is to be a ranger again. Last thing he needs is to be leader of a desperate resistance force. Unfortunately he’s the only one who can take on the job right now. Not really enthusiastic, would rather do anything but. However, he’s pretty competent at it and knows it. So, here he is. He’s usually the first to do something as he’s the one who literally cannot be hit. He’s the best to take out whatever forces there are, then get the rest of his team. Takes care of the young ones, never wants to see a familiar face twisted into grid knows what. Some he can save. Some…well. He doesn’t talk about B Team, much. Jack’s pretty good at the concept of preventing apocalypses, so he’s been pretty good at adapting to ‘undoing an active apocalypse’.

The Blue;

TJ Johnson. This isn’t his first apocalyptic rodeo and he’s got a sinking feeling it’s not going to be his last. Not by a long shot. Couldn’t save his team, doesn’t want to find out what happened and knows he’s going to have to. Works well with Jack. Jack’s the kind of red that’s a first line sort of defender while TJ is more of a planner. He figures out how Jack can get in and help them in; Jack executes the plan. Protective of the others, determined to see this through come what may.

The Pink;

Dana Mitchell. Used to stitching people up, she’s gotten phenomenally good at this while in the middle of battles. Persistent, calm, stubborn, and very freaky in battle. Most of her team’s been brainwashed. Ryan she hasn’t seen in a while and is afraid of what could have happened. She’s not exactly team morale but she’s no slouch in lightening the mood when she needs to. She’s always ready on the off chance a plan goes wrong. Hasn’t happened often, still. She’s prepared.

The Yellow:

Aisha Campbell. She’s dealt with Vile before and she’s happy to put the idiot back in his place as many times as it takes. Sole survivor of the mmpr’s. She’s actually got their morphers though so it’s not as dire as the others. However she’s careful with that information and the idea of recruitment. She could make a very bad choice on accident. She has to be careful.

The Green:

Xander Bly. It’s always good to fight mystic magic with mystic magic. His team’s been brainwashed, and he’s the only one who escaped the fate. Doing his best, but this is a team of strong personalities. At least he stays busy with the magic side of things. Has been trying to find the counter spells to all of Vile’s curses. If he can figure it out that’s half the battle won.

The Sixth;

Fern as cosmic fury’s orange. The youngest here, but her knowledge is valuable. Ollie went evil again, and Vile took Izzy too. This is an insult and heartbreak she’s going to make sure he lives to regret giving her. Xander’s sort of an older brother figure, and at least she’s got experienced rangers to lean on. This is scary and infuriating. But at least not all is lost. There’s a little hope she just has to keep going.

[officialleehadan]

Baby Rider

What Once Was

+++

Cyra was aware that bouncing a baby on her hip was not the most intimidating look.

She was also aware of how hard it was to have a new baby in the family, and that Lavas and his wife were halfway dead with exhaustion, and the best possible way to hold a meeting in peace was to to take the fussy little boy from his father.

Lavas probably would have protested, but the naked relief in his eyes when his son stopped yowling and finally took the bottle Cyra offered was more than enough to buy his silence.

Leonara hadn’t stopped chuckling, but Imlyn was old enough, barely, to remember how she had carried his brother the same way so his own parents could get some sleep.

Lavas was asleep on a couch in the corner. Cyra couldn’t even be annoyed with him for it.

“I would say you’ve gone soft, Dread Lady,” Dameld said, much amused by the whole thing even as Geraeld came over and, with the steady hand of a father of seven girls, took the almost-asleep baby from Cyra and bounced him gently. The little lad cooed sleepily at him, but snuggled into Geraeld’s wide arms with every indication of comfort. “But I know better. The skill with a child, however, is new.”

“Not that new,” Cyra said with a find smile for her godson, who was talking with Geraeld’s daughter, Elmia. They seemed to be discussing something that was either a creative way to kill a whole city, or an irrigation system. Cyra wasn’t sure. It might be both. “I learned a great deal with Imlyn and his brother, including how badly a new parent needs their sleep. We take no harm for Lavas having time to sleep.”

“I never suggested it was a bad thing,” Dameld said and ran one large finger over the baby’s soft cheek, but she didn’t make any move to take the child from Geraeld. For good reason, as he had, with an experienced father’s skill, coaxed the little lad almost to sleep. “But.. perhaps odd to see these skills of a peaceful life after our many years of monstrosity.”

“I was retired. We all were,” Cyra said and shrugged. “I hoped not to ever call you lot again, if we’re being honest.”

“I am glad for the call,” Leonara said, and suddenly wrinkled her nose. “But there is a reason I rarely interact with children. Their thoughts are so very loud! He is wet. It is foul, apparently. He wants to be changed.”

“Can’t say I’m any happier when I wet my britches,” Geraeld said and raised the bag Lavas brought with him when he appeared with his son in arms. His wife was still recovering from the birth and despite his desire to make a good impression with Cyra and her Riders, he valued his wife more highly still. Fortunately for him, Cyra approved of his priorities, and the little boy was, to all accounts, an easy child. “Thanks Leonara. I didn’t think he was hungry yet, but there’s no telling.”

“He is also hungry, but the filth in his diaper has his attention,” Leonara reported, clearly entirely displeased by the knowledge that was undoubtedly being bombarded into her mind. Her skills, Cyra knew, could either be open to receiving the thoughts of those around her, or turned off entirely, but only focused on one person with great effort. As a result she could not tune out the baby, and would not turn off her skills when surrounded by people she did not trust. “Warm another bottle while you have the chance.”

“You’re more useful like this,” Geraeld noted and grinned manically when she stuck her tongue out at him. He did change the baby with the ease of experience and tucked the soiled diaper away for Lavan or his wife to wash later “Watch it, spy. You’d be just as pretty without a tongue.”

“I knew you thought too much about my tongue but Geraeld, flirting with me after all these years?”

“Say that in front of my wife, I dare you.”

“Ma is fierce,” Elmia agreed, distracted from her discussion with Imlyn, which had progressed to paper models on the table. Cyra eyed them and decided that the subject was neither poisoning nor irrigation, but apparently siege warfare, considering the small paper trebuchets and what might be cavalry. “People sniff around Pa now and then. She clubbed the last one with a cast iron pan.”

“Auntie did that when our castle was invaded,” Imlyn noted and leaned against the table to observe Geraeld’s efficient disposal of the dirty diaper, and his soothing of the now-squalling child. “Didn’t think they’d make such good weapons.”

“They’re heavy and iron. You can club most anything with something that heavy,” Cyra told him, and reminded herself to resume his sword lessons. He would need them soon. “Leonara, you can leave if the baby bothers you. I don’t think we’re getting much else done. Leave Lavas alone. He needs the sleep.”

“Maybe a bit soft,” Dameld noted, but she was smiling as well, and let the little boy grasp one of her fingers. “But perhaps that is no bad thing. Has there been any word of our missing two? I would not want to call them betrayers so soon, but their absence brings questions I cannot ignore.”

“I know,” Cyra said, and reclaimed the baby from Geraeld easily. “Which is why I have Alanter scrying for them. If they need aid, we will retrieve them. If they have betrayed me, they will learn why no Rider of mine has ever survived to tell my secrets to another.”

+++

What Once Was: (FULL COLLECTION)

Lady of the Kitchens

Solar Safe

Family Meeting

Birthing Heroes (Subscriber Only!)

Recipe for Intrigue

Edifice

Three Riders (Subscriber Only!)

Old and New

Baby Rider (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[bearlytolerant]

Sooooo, are you still taking writing prompts? What about a Starborn PC (aka Shephard) heading into Nishina station and Sam can’t figure out what the hell she’s so worried about? I’m heading in there NG 6 and it’s just such emotional whiplash, depending on how you play. Sweet Jesus, the angst/comfort/smut potential….😁

Love your fics so much, thanks for sharing!

Fandom: Starfield

Pairing: Sam Coe x Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 2135

🌟Note: Contains Main Story Spoilers🌟

the world can wait

You’ve done this before. More than once. It’s not complicated but it is tedious. Worth it to save both realities again and again. Shifting between the sterilized facility with robot defenses and its survival horror counterpart, complete with alien monstrosities. You make quick work of it all, overriding the obstacles blocking your way to get to the lab. To the artifact.

Only this time, Raphael’s body in the sterilized reality doesn’t contain the slate that’s needed to save everyone. Padding him down, you check every pocket, sleeve, boot, anything you can find. But there’s nothing.

“Shit, Raph, where’d you put the damn slate?” The search spreads wider.

You rifle through lockers and under desks and chairs. You even check the bathroom. Maybe he dropped it behind the toilet? But it’s nowhere to be found and time is ticking. Shifting back to the reality colored apocalyptic horror, you find Raphael, alive and well.

“Hey, do you have the slate?”

“What slate?” he asks and his confusion has your stomach in knots.

“The one with the degaussing instructions.”

“I don't have that.”

If only you’d taken time to memorize it. The regret pools in your gut. Learning the hard way, again.

With a sigh, you thank him and head back to the sterilized reality. At the very least, you can save this version. But new questions arise in your head with the turn of events. Is it a mercy to leave Raph, protecting him from the crushing weight of being a sole survivor? Or will he slowly starve to death, coming back for you in another universe, angry and vengeful?

There’s no time to dwell. You make your choice. Scientists over Raphael.

You disengage every power interlock as quickly as you can. Power down the central control and grab the artifact.

Spinning and swirling and swimming in a sea of stars, the unity touches your mind, showing you the latest thread spun in your particular tapestry of fate.

You wake up, only one thing on your mind.

Sam.

Did this new decision cause a disruption or a disconnect? Will you leave Nishima and find him standing just outside the facility where he said he’ll be?

How badly is this world fucked?

Panic rises, festering and oozing out through your sweating palms. You fret and fumble, stumbling your way back to the main entrance. You don’t even bother to check up on the scientists. They’re obviously fine. Their thank yous roll off your back as you pass them by. You see the exit.

The door hisses and it feels like an eternity before they pull apart enough for you to squeeze through, eyes searching for the place he should be.

“Sam?” You call, your voice dry, rough and cracked.

But he’s not where you left him.

Your heart races. You’re mumbling “no” under your breath, over and over again, like a penitent sinner. Pleading with the heavens, and bargaining with the stars.

“Sam!” You scream.

His name is a choked back sob burning at the back of your throat.

“You better be here,” you croak, eyes searching the horizon and all the places around you.

He shouldn’t be back at the ship but what if he is? What if he’s safe? A glimmer of hope. You need to see. Need to know.

You take another step forward, the tears drying as you tell yourself that he’ll be there.

But then that little worm named worry inches in, whispering to you, what if he isn’t? Then you’ll have to explain to your crew mates. Explain to Cora.

Oh, no—Cora.

You slump to your knees, the voice of worry growing louder. A cacophony of horrible what-ifs brings your heart rate up so high your hands are shaking. You can’t go back to the ship without him. You can’t—you won’t. You know you haven’t searched everywhere. There's one last place before you’ll give in and go to the ship, to face whatever might be waiting there. So you turn around, retracing your steps back to the facility, heading up the stairs and toward the cliff edge. You pass by a tree on the right and pause to watch as the sky awakens in an ambient peach glow. It’s beautiful but it’s not Sam. You hang your head, hopeless.

“Oh Sam,” you whisper to yourself. “Where are you?”

A hand on your shoulder has you reeling around, gun in your hand.

“Whoa, whoa! You alright there, darlin,?”

Sam.

He’s okay. He’s okay! The weight lifts off you and just one look into his baby blues is enough to carry you down from that panic driven high.The air is breathable again as you toss your gun aside, throwing your arms around Sam’s neck. You cling to him, fingers grasping at the bare skin of the back of his neck, tears flowing freely down your face. “Where were you? I looked everywhere and you weren’t—you weren’t—“

Then your hands are on his cheeks, fingers to his lips as your eyes map out the entirety of his face. You wrap your arms around his midsection and squeeze, ear pressed against his chest. His heartbeat is a steady thrum inside your head.

He holds you tight, smoothing his hand up and down your back. “Shh, I’m right here,” he says. “I’m right here.”

“I thought I’d lost you.” Again.

“You haven’t lost me,” he says. “I’m here.”

He gently removes your hands from his neck and holds them, studying your face.

You grasp his hands tightly, and bring them to your lips. One kiss for each knuckle and one kiss for each scar. Then you flip his palms over and kiss those too.

The lines of his eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. “You okay? Need to talk about what happened in there?”

You shake your head. You’d rather forget it all.

“I just—I need you.”

“Okay,” he says in his familiar and calming drawl. He presses his lips to your forehead. “Okay.”

You lift your chin, searching his eyes. Drink up his soft and gentle smile. Then you kiss him. Deep and devoted. His tongue slips into your mouth, hands roving your body, urgent and insatiable.

You back him against the nearby tree, out of sight for anyone that might come along. No one will, though. You’re confident of that. It’s just you and him and the wide expanse of land meeting sky embracing the two of you in a morning haze.

Your fingers are undoing his belt buckle and his hands slide up your back, to your shoulders and then cup your face. His eyes are askance of your audience.

“We don’t—you don’t have to do this.”

“It’s not a matter of obligation. But of want. Of need,” you tell him.

It’s a matter of finding some solace in the sighs you can invoke. You want to hear him, revere him, touch him. Immerse the entirety of your essence in him.

“Who am I to protest then?” he says with a chuckle.

How you’ve missed that. Missed him. Those few moments without him were just minutes but felt like days—no millennia.

His belt buckle loosens. Button unsnaps.

You relish in the soft zip mixed with the quiet hush of wind at your ear, kneeling before him as the supplicant pilgrim. He’s already shirking out of his jacket, tossing it on the ground beside you. Your fingers inch under the hem of his shirt, exploring the skin of his body and brushing over the hair of his belly. Sprawling hands out to his sides, finger pads pressing into the black inked tattoos, you rest your forehead against him.

Three deep breaths and you’re grounded for a moment.

One of his hands pets your head, soothing and calming before you press your lips to his belly button. Plant a plush path of kisses down to the elastic of his boxer briefs. Then you dip your hand past the band, tugging, and freeing his cock. Gently you massage his balls, while wrapping your other hand around his length. You pump once, careful not to pull the sensitive skin.

He murmurs something sweet, calls you darlin’ as you slide your hand down his shaft. You lick your lips as you eye his excited cock, bobbing slightly and eager. You kiss the veins and make use of your tongue, testing and tasting. Having a bit of fun.

With satisfaction, you envelope him with your lips.

He shudders under the sudden shock of warmth from your mouth; a flood of sensations to his nerves. You draw him in deeper, massaging him as you delight in his tip touching the back of your throat. You pull free, with a smack of tongue to lips while releasing his balls. A string of saliva catches fractals of light as you swipe it from your bottom lip, glancing up to meet his adoring eyes.

“You’re a sight to behold,” he says, voice deep and gravelly.

He doesn’t realize that he’s the true sight to behold. But you will show him. Show him that he’s all that and more.

You close your eyes, those words washing away all that worry. Lips pressed to his tip, you open your mouth wider to be filled with the entirety of him. Your cheeks hollow out as you suck. Your other hand, snaking around his ass and gripping, steadies you as he hisses a profanity.

His hand has slipped from your head to the back of your neck where he holds you tenderly. Though his cock twitches and hips jerk, begging to thrust, he remains self-controlled.

Your own arousal heightens under his strained moans and self suffocated cries. And you take more of him. More of those muffled sounds and praises that keep tumbling out of his mouth with every lick of your tongue. Every languid drag.

You quicken the pace, driven by the urge to please him and a bit of precum spills. You withdraw, lapping it up with a lewd swipe of your tongue.

Stealing another glance up at him, his eyes are closed, head falling back against the tree bark and that self control wavers with a desperate, “please,” and squeeze of your neck.

You oblige happily, losing yourself to his shudders and sighs. Ravishing his length in your mouth, setting a rhythm that pushes him to the precipice, guides him to the edge. His nails dig into your shoulder as you draw him in and out of your mouth. One great sigh and the grip of his hand loosens. Salt and warmth slide down your throat and you still your lips, gently sucking the remainder of his spend.

You swallow each and every last drop. With one last suck before release, his hands pull you away, drawing you up to his lips as he bends over you. Kisses you, urgent and besotted. After a few moments lost in the taste of one another, you break apart. Breathless. Come together again in a desperate embrace. Suspended in time, the sky brightens to almost blinding within the next hour. You never want to let him go. But the others will start to wonder. Unless—

“We should get back,” you say. “We need to check on the others.”

“Why?” Sam asks, tucking himself away and adjusting his pants. He buckles his belt.

“I had to do things differently this time—in Nishina. It’s why I was so worried I couldn’t find you. I was terrified something happened and—what if that something happened to the others—to Cora.” There’s that little flutter of panic again.

“Shh,” he says, pulling you back against his chest. “They’re alright,” he reassures.

“How do you know?”

He pulls away, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezes. “I’ve already checked in on them through the comms. They’re okay. We’re all okay.”

You can feel the moisture in the corner of your eye but you wipe it away.

“I love you,” he says, kissing your forehead, then your cheek. Finally your lips. “Immensely and totally.”

And you know this in every fiber of your being but it is a relief to have it spoken. After everything.

You snatch up his jacket from the ground and dust it off. Hold it open as he stuffs an arm in, shirking it back on. Taking his hand in yours, you squeeze it once.

“I love you Sam Coe, and when we get to a quieter place, I’m going to spend a whole day showing you just how much.”

“Holding me hostage for a day, then?”

“Make that a week.”

With a chuckle and squeeze of your hand, he says, “I’m all yours, darlin’.”

And together you find your way back to the ship.

[voxofthevoid]

Time-Travel Fuck-It Wednesday #4. This fic is now significantly longer than I intended or expected, and you'd think I'd be used to it by now but nope. Shocked Pikachu.jpeg every time.

Anyway, have some emotional porn. More emotion than porn.

Yuuji says, “Let me take care of you.”

Satoru blinks up at him. “I think that should be my line.”

“No.” Yuuji shakes his head. “You’re always doing that. My turn.”

“You have very low standards for care, Yuuji.”

Yuuji hums, indulgent and noncommittal, but it’s clear his attention is on the hand steadily unzipping Satoru’s jacket. He lifts his body off Satoru, straddling him instead while he sets about stripping him. And Satoru finds himself playing the part of a pretty doll, strangely curious what Yuuji intends to do. He’s used to those calloused hands touching him with hunger and tenderness both, their hard-earned skill laced with an abundance of affection, but there’s something different today in how he’s going about it. The simmering intent in his eyes isn’t exactly alien, but there’s a weight to it that settles heavily over Satoru’s own bones.

Yuuji takes his time stripping Satoru, pausing to press gentle hands and warm lips to each bared body part. You’d think the novelty would have worn off by now, with how often and how easily Satoru gives himself over to this boy, but Yuuji’s gaze and touch have not yet grown any less hungry, any less reverent. And Satoru has had plenty of time to learn that he’ll never be immune to being wanted like this—all his godhood and monstrosity stripped away to reveal the hot human core.

His pants are the last to go, and it’s adorable, how Yuuji acts like abandoning his perch on Satoru’s thighs is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

“Cute,” Satoru murmurs, and Yuuji’s eyes flicker upward, catching on Satoru’s gaze like he can’t quite help it. The pink on his cheeks is still there, never having left, but it’s his eyes that brighten at the praise.

He makes quick work of Satoru’s pants, even pausing to take off his shoes and socks. He lingers there too, crouched at the foot of the bed with Satoru’s foot in his grip. His thumb traches the arch of it, and the pressure is too firm to tickle, but the tenderness burned into the skin there isn’t any less devastating. Yuuji lets go with a final squeeze, all five fingers wrapping tight around the middle of that foot.

Satoru feels that grip all through his body, his chest and his throat throbbing in tandem.

Yuuji’s nice enough to provide a distraction the next moment, leaving the bed to strip out of his own clothes. Satoru watches greedily, and alright, maybe he does know why Yuuji never seems to lose that touch of awe at seeing him naked. Yuuji favors oversized clothes and never minds his posture, and it’s not a lack of confidence, Satoru knows, only a failure to care about appearance or presence. Yuuji’s priorities have never been in how he’s perceived. But that just means it’s a shock to the system when he shows his truth.

Soft skin stretched taut over hard muscle. Human meat wrapped around a core of inhuman power.

Heat pools in Satoru’s gut, dripping down to where his cock lies against his thigh. It’s mostly soft, Yuuji’s touches having burrowed into parts of Satoru that were concerningly above the waist, but one look at the way Yuuji crawls back into bed to loom over him says it won’t stay that way very long.

For a moment, Yuuji doesn’t do anything. He just looks, burning eyes trailing heat along everything they touch. Satoru thrusts out his chest and spreads his legs, muscles clenched all over and breath held fast. Yuuji needs no enticement, his interest blatant from the living dark of his eyes to the heavy cock between his legs, but Satoru’s always been hard-wired to put on a show.

Yuuji’s throat clicks around a swallow.

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes.

Satoru shivers.

It’s a little ridiculous. This isn’t news. Satoru knows what he looks like, and he knows how and why others look at him with the kind of heat Yuuji’s cooking in right now.

But the way Yuuji’s looking at him, the way he sounds—

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Satoru says, but it comes out too serious, more warning than teasing.

And Yuuji’s never met a warning sign he won’t prance past with a smile on his face, has he?

Case in point—the hands on Satoru’s hips, the lips on his throat, the prayer pressed into his skin. Yuuji kisses his way down the length of his torso, his mouth soft and wet but never staying long enough for Satoru to feel it. The aftertouch lingers, warm phantoms trailing down his body from neck to navel.

His dick is almost fully hard by the time Yuuji’s mouth reaches it, and the heat of it does the rest. There’s pleasure in Yuuji’s eyes, the kind that’s hot with pure satisfaction, as he pulls back to suckle on the head. Satoru finally reaches for him, cupping the side of his face and tracing the curve of his lips. Yuuji makes a quiet, happy noise around the head, his eyes fluttering closed.

He slides sweetly down Satoru’s cock, barely hesitating when it nudges the back of his throat.

Satoru fists his free hand in the sheets and keeps the other gentle on Yuuji, petting his jaw and neck. He’s rewarded with wet clench of muscles and the shudder of a tongue, and then another and another, and Yuuji’s face has gone from pink to a blotchy red, all of him clearly screaming for air, but he keeps himself there, stubborn and scorching, nails digging into Satoru’s hips as he makes himself choke.

“Yuuji,” Satoru rasps, tugging at his hair with no real force. “Easy.”

Yuuji’s eyes open, heavy-lidded and lazy as they meet Satoru’s stare. And he holds it while he pulls off, an exquisitely slow slide that has Satoru clenching every one of his muscles to keep himself in place instead of fucking up into Yuuji’s mouth.

Yuuji pants over his cock, his lips a wet, ripe red. Satoru wipes it clean of the mess—

—and brings his hand to his own mouth, humming around the taste of spit and precome.

Yuuji’s hands convulse on his hips, bruising the flesh.

He says, “Turn around.”

That’s a little unexpected, but Satoru only arches an eyebrow before doing as told—well, he makes an attempt.

“You’ll have to let me go first,” he points out, raising an eyebrow at the hands still clamped on his hips. “Conflicted, Yuuji?”

“Yes,” comes the frank answer, even as Yuuji lets go, prying his fingers away and swaying back to give Satoru room to move. “Sometimes, I wish there were two of me, just so I touch you everywhere, all the time.”

Satoru swallows, throat suddenly painfully dry.

“I’m not sure I’d survive,” he mutters, turning around as asked. With Yuuji’s blisteringly earnest expression no longer in view, it’s easier to add, “Well, I guess dying on dick isn’t a bad way to go. Definitely better than the last time.”

Palms settle at the base of his back, thumbs fondling the twin dimples there. A not-insignificant portion of Yuuji’s weight comes to rest on Satoru as those hands slide up the length of his back in a slightly savage version of a massage. They stop on his shoulders, and then there are lips brushing over his nape and a cheek rubbing against his undercut, before warm breath falls on the shell of his ear.

“That’s not how this goes, Satoru,” Yuuji says, hushed like a secret. “You live.”