#family doesn't count because sometimes i tell them sometimes i don't

[yo9urt]

i never know how good i am at hiding a crush and i’ve always felt like i’m not that good at it and every time i get a new crush it’s always a game of like. how long until someone who isn’t that close to me finds out

[starry-bi-sky]

#battinson with chronically ill half dead teenager yesssssssss#I'm imagining that first night he brings danny to the cave and hes just internally panicking#like what do i do with this kid. where do i put him. i cant just leave him in the cave. im DEFINITELY not leaving him alone

FRRRR. Like @/that1badassbitch mentioned in the comments, Bruce's thoughts that entire time was just varying pitches of internal screaming. Which I am still wheezing at because yeah, preach. Bruce's pov from the moment Danny accosts him in the alley to him bringing Danny into the cave ranges from awkward panicking, genuine desperation to get this kid some help, a lot of heartbreak on the boy's behalf, and also just pure anger at his godfather.

Cuz like, who the fuck does this?? How dare he. This boy is a child. If it weren't for Danny's genuine terrified pleading, Bruce would've probably had a confrontation with Vlad. He would've lost, considering Vlad's power set and Bruce's lack of and Vlad would have gotten away with Danny. But he would've tried it. (Could've resulted in a spin-off au where Bruce, after losing to Vlad, proceeds to hunt the bastard down to save Danny.)

But yeah, I absolutely, delightfully agree that Battinson is just. internally panicking the entire time. From the rooftops, to the car, to the driving all the way to the cave -- which, after a quick google search, is apparently in an abandoned train depot in Batman (2022). Which is fascinating to me, but I digress. His internal monologue consists of cussing out Danny's godfather, trying to figure out what the poison is, a repetitive use of the word "FUCK", and him going "keep him awake keep him awake keep him aWAKE--"

But like, in a more Bruce Wayne fashion.

Danny is curled up in the passenger seat beside him and Bruce keeps intermittently checking on him every few seconds. Danny just looks like shit, man. Poor kid has a seemingly unending bloody nose, he's coughed a few times already and each time sounds like its shaking through his lungs and taking a piece out. His breathing is hollow, quietly raspy, and Danny sounds like he's gasping each time he breathes in. He's pale, clammy and sweating, but trembling, and his eyes are glazed over, unfocused, and half-lidded.

Dealer's choice here but I'm very amused but also fond of the idea that Bruce, in an attempt to do anything to soothe this kid, panic-clips off his cape and kinda just. throws it at him. Cringes, then awkwardly tries to adjust it so it's laying over him like a blanket.

It works though! Danny, through his haze, cracks a smile at him before grabbing the cape and practically curling around it. He seems to visibly relax, and Bruce silently slumps with relief that his idea worked. I also think he tries to painfully make some sort of small talk but frankly the only valid form of "small talk" he knows is interrogation. Danny's too out of it to mind though.

Bruce asks him if he knows what his godfather used to poison him.

("Blood Bl'ssom.") ("What is that?") ("A k'nda plant. Issa type o' rose.") ("Where can I find one?") ("Y'can't.") (And hear Bruce's blood chills for a moment. "What do you mean?") ("Blossoms went extinct in th- in the 1600s.") ("What? How is that possible? How'd your godfather get his hands on one?") ("Science.")

He also learns that the poison is, horrifyingly, cannibalistic, and Danny reassures him that he kinda stopped feeling the pain a few hours ago. Then he gags on nothing and spirals into an ugly coughing fit. "...Mostly." He adds on.

I have this very vivid mental image of Battinson screeching to a stop in the cave, Alfred's off to the side messing with some prototype gadgets. Bruce's side door swings open and Alfred's in the middle of snarkily asking if he's decided to get a reasonable amount of sleep tonight, only to immediately eat his tongue when Bruce beelines to the other side of the car and frantically pulls a waifish victorian kid with the tuberculosis blood cough to match out of the passenger's side.

("Dear god, what happened!?") ("His godfather poisoned him. I need towels and every medical device we have in here.")

The few photos I could find of the Battinson Cave did not imply there was a gurney in there, so Bruce uses on of the metal tables. He uses one arm to swipe off all the stuff on there onto the floor before laying Danny down.

It's. a very stressful time! That's for sure. Bruce is stuck between trying to get some form of antidote or at the very least a neutralizer to the blood blossom extract made, and also reassuring Danny that he's going to be fine. He's out of his depth.

They do get Danny stabilized though! How? Uh, I hadn't actually been able to think of how up until now, and this is just me trying to throw together an idea up on the fly. But Bruce like, manages to make some kind of 'antidote' that doesn't completely kill the blood blossom extract, but it makes the poison at least forcibly slow down.

[Forced to put a read more because this got SO LONG. oops]

"like what do i do with this kid. where do i put him. i cant just leave him in the cave. im DEFINITELY not leaving him alone" <<< is his sudden internal crisis after Danny's stabilized and passed out on the table. Giving him back to his godfather is completely off the fucking table, and Bruce can't give him up to CPS because there's a risk that he'll also return to his godfather.

He ends up, unsurprisingly to all of us, on deciding to keep Danny with him for the time being. At least until they can get his godfather behind bars. And you're right! Danny can't stay in the cave -- it's a half-furnished, rundown train depot. There's a tetanus shot waiting around each corner. It's Bruce's (reluctant) idea to take him up to the manor.

So Danny wakes up in an incredibly gothic guest bedroom, not feeling 100%, but also not feeling like total death like he did yesterday. He can still feel the blood blossom in him -- it leaves a joint and muscle soreness throughout his whole body, and when he breathes there's a weight there.

His confusion over where he woke up -- because it's very much not Vlad's place -- is overshadowed by his frank awe. You can't tell me he hasn't developed an appreciation and fondness of gothness due to his friendship with Sam. He might not be into it like Sam is, but he can appreciate the beauty when it's right in front of him.

#and hes got that awkward silent staring thing going on. Danny's trying not to die and vlads not there anymore#so hes unbothered by it really

Bruce pulled up a chair next to Danny's bed in the manor and didn't move a single inch the entire time. Just. sat there and stared to make sure the kid didn't stop breathing in the middle of the night. Probably has some facial recognition scanner going to try and figure out Danny's last name -- whether that works or not is dealer's choice frankly.

Either way, Danny turns his head to the left and nearly jumps three feet into the air when he sees Bruce and his 'stares into your soul' blue eyes. Sends him into a minor coughing fit by accident. Battinson very awkwardly and quietly apologizes. danny kinda just waves him off.

That's a whole conversation I'm not gonna go into, but to sum it up Bruce asks how Danny's feeling, and Danny tells him that he feels better, but he can still feel the blood blossom poison. So whatever he did, didn't get rid of all of it. (He's still incredibly fucking grateful nonetheless)

cue that "getting to know you" interrogation stuff.

(Danny can probably keep the full extent of his halfa status a secret from Bruce at first, but he is forced to tell Bruce about the ectoplasm running through him since it's the only reason the blood blossom toxin even works on him. Which results in him telling him a.. slightly omitted version of why he even has that in there in the first place.)

(Maybe he reveals that he was a hero in order to convince Bruce to let him out on the field rather than being just support? I've got ideas and fortunately your tags will help me delve into them)

#alfred pretends to be exasperated that bruce kidnapped a kid but honestly hes relieved#maybe being responsible for someone else will make bruce more responsible for his own health

no notes. just know that i'm wheezing at this. my friend @kingcrow01 had Alfred essentially reacting the same fucking way.

#the media would eat it up are you kidding??? the reclusive prince of gotham seen with a mysterious child???#and theyve both got that sickly pathetic wet cat look to them what with bruce constantly being injured and danny being chronically poisoned

FR! I love social media shenanigans and I love seeing it in fic (Lex Luthor's Ascent From Supervillainy To Fatherhood is a really good example of it imo), although i'm not too good at making it myself. Imagining how twitter in-universe might react to photo evidence of Danny with Bruce is going to fuel my desire for seeing people's reactions to things for ages. I am delighted to imagine that dumpster fire. The in-universe memes, guys.

Nobody has any clue what this mysterious Wayne child looks like for the longest time because Danny follows Bruce's lead and dresses in Anti-Paparazzi Recluse Fits. Mostly because he's the godchild of an equally reclusive and influential billionaire figure, and I imagine Vlad would pitch a media fit trying to find his poor, beloved godson.

Can you imagine the fucking SCANDAL if people found out that Vlad Masters' godson ran off and was currently living with recluse Gotham Prince Bruce Wayne? The tabloids would eat this shit up. It's a three-course meal that's paying their rent for the next three months. That's not even to say what Vlad might do upon finding out Danny's whereabouts.

So yeah, photo evidence of Danny only has shots of him wearing a large hoodie, one of Bruce's jackets, and a medical face mask and a hat. It doesn't hide any of the Sickly Pathetic Wet Cat look, if anything it enhances it. But you can see his bright 'staring into your soul like the oracle of delphi' blue eyes, and the black curls plastering his face, and his pale skin.

In some photos, as blurry as they are, Danny appears to be leaning into Bruce's side, seemingly using him as a support. The "antidote" (medicine?) Bruce created that first night was effective, but it wears off eventually. Before they make his medical bracelets, the both of them agree to use the antidote Bruce made to stave off the worst of the poison.

These photos are taken around the times the antidote was wearing off or had worn off, and the toxin was taking itself out of the backseat and shifting back into high gear. Despite that, Danny managed to convince Bruce to let him tag along on whatever shopping run he was on.

Someone took one of these photos and captioned it "Pathetic Wet Cat and his Sickly Pathetic Wet Kitten" and posted it on SMS. It got numbers.

Oh my god, I just thought of this but when Battinson is finally cornered by reporters asking him about Danny he does this:

he internally panics, and then with a straight face says "i don't know what you're talking about. i don't have a son." and then he Flees.

(this blows up in his face because the reporter he responded to never asked him if Danny was his son, they asked him who the boy seen with him was. Bruce is trending on twitter before he even makes it home. He's mortified. There's potential here for a scene between Bruce and Danny where they have that long-awaited 'are we family?' conversation.)

#i know everyone's focusing on danny working as a hero with batman and his relationships with dick and jason and everyone as the older siblin#but im still stuck on early days batman with a teenager to care for and how that dynamic is going to be SO DIFFERENT#than that same bruce with a 9 year old Dick. like the circumstances are so different and hes never bat-dopted a kid before this

NO BECAUSE YOU GET IT. YOU GET IIIIT! I fucking love older brother danny, however the biggest appeal of the "eldest son danny" idea is in fact how he and bruce's relationship would have to play out in order for that to happen. You could argue that Danny could be an 'older brother figure' to the Robins and still not have any familial affiliation with Batman, but the fact of the matter is, simply? I want that familial affiliation with Bruce. I want to see how that would play out, and how it would develop.

I am. a scientist prodding a little glass stirring rod at the potential family dynamic of Bruce Wayne and Danny Fenton and going, in complete wonderment and awe, "wow. fascinating. how does that work? how did you happen? what made you? how can i do it again?"

I also think there could be something fascinating over the fact that Bruce Wayne watched his parents die in front of him, while Danny's parents don't even know Danny died at all. A (once) child with dead parents, and a dead child with living parents. I think there's something to be explored there, I just haven't yet figured out what.

And yeah! a teen is completely different than an 8 year old. They're in very different developmental stages in their life, and that's not even addressing their lifestyle differences. When I made this prompt I mentally kinda just placed the death of danny's parents as having happened a few months ago. To me, it feels like enough time for Vlad's temperament to escalate from bad to worse, and for him to actually cook up that blood blossom toxin.

Danny's at a different mourning period compared to Dick, who was brought in while it wasn't even a day old. Maybe Danny hasn't had much time to mourn his family as much as he's wanted because he's been stuck in survival mode living with Vlad, and once he feels secure with Bruce he can finally tap into that grief he's been keeping on the backburner.

Lots of things to explore that can adjusted and changed as needed! Very flexible.

All in all though, I am a sucker for found family and in order for Danny to have family in Dick and the others, he needs to find it with Bruce.

#and this one has a crazy demon murder godfather and poison blood and a history of punching otherworldly apocalypse-creatures#into another dimension. no parenting book will help.

no notes here other than yeah, agreed, wheeze. The good news is that he doesn't need to be completely afraid that those otherworldly potential-apocalypse kickstarters will show up at any random point, Because, imo, Danny shut down and destroyed the portal before he could be shipped off in order to prevent anyway (cough-the GIW-cough) from accessing it. Vlad's the only one with a working portal currently and he's not as careless as the fentons are as to keep it open willy-nilly.

now the only thing he needs to worry about is the crazy demon godfather and the flora-boros blood toxin in his son's veins! whoo.

#and like yeah danny will want to help gotham and save people#but honestly? with his new limitations and no expectations from a previous robin do you think he would do it the same way?

I love this question! because honestly when I was initially expanding on this idea on my own, my initial answer was "no" due to the toxin's limitations. I had the same idea as you where Danny takes on a more 'oracle' role where he's not out in the field, but he's still helping behind the scenes. I was torn between "logically would this happen" as well as "chronically ill people aren't delicate flowers, they can do things" and a little dash of "okay but i really want nightingale out in the field"

In the end I decided that I liked the idea of Danny actually out with Bruce, and that as a result there would need to appropriate consequences and drawbacks for this decision.

#idk guys he fights ghosts because no one else can#i think he'd probably play a much more supportive role. at least at first. << you're totally right, too. And Danny's motivations for wanting to help in Gotham would have to be different than in Amity Park. Oooo this has good character growth potential.

Danny helps Amity Park out of a sense of obligation right? Like obviously it's also because he's a good person, but ultimately it kinda comes across as an obligation. He's the only one who can, so he's the one to do it, despite the fact that throughout the show he's shown to want that normal life. There's guilt there if he doesn't do anything; he has the power to stop this, so why shouldn't he?

(Oo, doesn't that sound kinda familiar? Guilt over something he ultimately has no control over, but thinks he could have?)

So! For him to choose to decide to rejoin the hero life, and not just from behind the curtain, feels like a pretty big character decision to me. Especially because now, he doesn't really have the power to help. Not like he did before.

He's sickly, essentially powerless because using his powers speeds up the toxin, and equipped only with his wits, his creativity, and whatever fighting skills he may have acquired during his time as Phantom -- and whatever martial arts prowess the author decides to have Maddie pass down to Danny.

He's not doing this because he feels like he has to, but because he wants to. I think that's pretty cool.

You reminded me that ideas can be combined too! It's dealers choice for anyone who wants to throw their hat into the ring in how Danny decides to join the frontline fight.

I'm going to kinda contradict myself here but one of my ideas for Danny going from behind-the-scenes to in-your-face-scenes is just. Batman needing backup for a fight. I'm not going to go into specifics for who he's facing, because frankly i'm not sure myself, but he needs backup.

And Danny, who likes to sit in the cave more often than not, waiting for Bruce to come back, sees this through whatever cameras are available. He's stressed out, worried for Batman's safety. This could be a good catalyst for the overarching subplot of him rejoining the hero scene as well as hey, maybe realizing that he doesn't need his powers to help people.

Danny's warring with himself about what to do. Trying to soothe his anxieties by reminding himself that Bruce is an incredible fighter and good at getting out of tight spots, telling himself it would be fine. Rebuffing the little voice in his mind saying he should help by telling it that he might make things worse. And when his subconscious tries to tell him that he can help, he rebuffs it by saying does he need to?

And there, right there, is what's been playing on repeat for however long it takes for him to become nightingale. Every night: "I can help, but do I need to?" and during this night is when he has an epiphany; "No, but I want to."

it's like the sun peaking through the clouds after weeks of gray skies. He wants to help. He can help, but not because he should or because he's able to, although that is important, but because he wants to.

So he finds where Bruce hides the face paint, smears what he think is an adequate amount on his face -- it looks almost mask like. And hunts down one of the spare utility belts -- he ends up having to wrap it around his shoulder and torso like a bandolier due to how tall Bruce is and how willowy Danny is. he already has a hoodie on, and pulls it up over his head. And fuck it, i'm calling down the Rule of Cool Law. Danny finds one of Bruce's spare capes and tears it up to make a makeshift scarf to better hide his face. He gets some other tools he needs that he knows Bruce uses, and then he's off.

(Bruce is both very shocked and very upset when Danny comes crashing through the ceiling with a faux-confident; "Hiyo, B! You're looking pretty bat-tered, so I thought I'd come in and give a helping claw!")

(Results in what I think is a very funny post-fight conversation where they have something of a hissed argument in front of the half-conscious criminals. "what are you doing here?!" "i wanted to help!" "where'd you learn to fight like this?" "mom taught me" -> which causes a fucking BUZZ in the criminal underground when word gets out.)

there's conflict. argument over bruce not wanting danny to come out to help him. Until danny eventually wins out in the end by pulling up footage of phantom on the batcomputer, revealing his previous hero status, and pure damn stubbornness. Bruce agrees but only after he updates Danny's self-defense and gets him a proper suit.

#alfred cant handle TWO wet rats getting beat up every night lol

singling this out because it's funny and you're rIGHT.

#danny innovating new and better bat gadgets. making good humanitarian use of the wayne money in ways that would make sam proud. #making sure alfred isnt the only thing standing between bruce and bruce's death at the hands of the city he loves

Danny's bambi eyes are lethal work, and Alfred's favorite employ whenever Bruce is being stubborn. Even after rejoining the active hero scene, Danny will still team up with Alfred to drag Bruce to bed or rest. Excuse you, don't make the same mistakes he did! He's the elder hero here!

Danny churns out so many anti-ghost gadgets for Bruce for the inevitable confrontation with Vlad, along with non-ecto gadgets just because he wants him safe. It becomes an unusual bonding experience for the both of them to come up with gadget ideas together and then figuring out how to make it work, and then building them together.

Vigilante equivalent of helping dad in the garage except you're both fixing the car and telling the other to grab them the 3/5th quarter-inch flathead screwdriver from the toolbox.

Danny is delighted to have someone to bounce ideas off of with, as does Bruce.

For the good old "fights are one of the ways ghosts socialize" trope: They have regular training sessions, but it's Danny who asks if they could sometimes just have some for-fun sparring sessions. Then has to very embarrassedly explain to Bruce that it's just something ghosts do with each other to socialize sometimes.

Bruce reads between the lines and sees it for what it is: play fighting. Danny's asking to play fight. There are no parenting books on taking care of a half-ghost teen, but he immediately thinks on a documentary on lions he saw a while ago and agrees.

These play fights more often than not result in Danny being tossed around like a ragdoll and loving it -- he's light as feathers and being thrown up into the air feels like he's flying again. Something he can't do anymore for obvious reasons. Plus the ghostly bonding thing.

I don't have much to add about the humanitarian use of wayne money thing, i agree. It also makes Bruce proud and could help inspire him to start getting more involved with Wayne Industries so he can start using his parents' company for humanitarian use as well.

#MAN imagine the fluff of danny learning to decipher bat grunts#if anyone has experience seeing past the crazy obsessive seemingly single minded focus of a parental figure and to the real love and care#that exists so deeply and truly under and throughout it all it'll be danny

aaaaaa, man you're so right. i was talking to crow about this but, for context, the idea was that Nightingale has a tendency to sometimes bite his opponents. And it's become something almost like a signature surprise move because he has Ghost Fangs, but the first time this happens its during some kind of gang fight between B, Gale, and a handful of goons.

However, the fight halts to surprised stop when one of the guys shrieks out; "OW, HE BIT ME!" and like a spell, everyone turns, flabbergasted, towards the guy who said it. Because what the fuck did you mean he bit you, wHY IS HE BITING.

And there, hanging off the guy's arm with all the smug self-satisfaction of a cat, is Nightingale, with his fangs still chomped down onto the guy's arm. There's a few seconds of silence, long enough for everyone to see what's going on, before Gale reorients his momentum and kicks the guy square in the jaw; knocking him out cold.

The thing that catches everyone's attention is that Nightingale drew blood. They watch, half-terrified, half-baffled, as the kid scrunches his nose up, wipes at his mouth, and makes a noise of disgust. He turns to look at Batman, who has also stopped what he's doing to stare as well.

Nightingale asks him; "Am I gonna have to get checked for this?"

Rather than deign him with a response, Batman remains silent. They stare at each other for three whole seconds, before Nightingale clicks his tongue like Batman had said something he didn't like, but expected.

"Aw, okay." Then without missing a beat, he turns and launches himself like a feral cat at the closest person next to him, and the room descends back into chaos once more.

Man, I'm just imagining them working next to each other on their own personal project, and Danny will quietly ask for Bruce's opinion on something. Bruce gives him a single grunt, and Danny's silent for a moment, contemplative, before muttering something like "huh, i guess you're right" or "oh, good idea."

Danny eventually adopts Bruce's little "hrm" quirk himself, and it slowly goes from: "hey, what do you think about this?" "hrm" "that's what I thought too" to: "..hmn?" "hm."

The ever consistent urge to make Your Blorbo The Most Specialist Character On The Block Ever is forever a plague of mine, and I'm very tempted to say that Danny is the only other kid except Cass who can do the "hm?" "hn" thing back to back with Bruce. Don't get me wrong, the other batkids can do the "Hey X thing" "hm" "okay" thing, and on some level can do the "hm" "hm" thing too, but they can't do it quite to the same extent as Danny can, and its from those years where it was just the two of them.

but yess!! I agree! Danny's got experience with that kind of obsessiveness, Bruce reminds him a lot of his parents that way and he understands it the best out of all his siblings as a result. It also means, however, that he willingly goes in to drag Bruce out of whatever obsessive rabbit hole he's fallen into, if he feels that Bruce has been too hyperfocused on something. He saw it with his parents, and it ended up killing them. He's not losing another dad because of his foolish tunnel vision.

#bruce is so much quieter than his parents but man if danny doesnt understand him. and maybe bruce comes to learn what dannys used to as well#comes to learn to speak his affection and open up so much more. to make danny feel more comfortable and welcome

AGAIN, NO NOTES. This is perfect and yes. I've got nothing to add.. okay I lied, i just needed a moment to think. Bruce isn't the most physically affectionate person, but he starts to be thanks to Danny, who is very tactile. Same thing with verbal praise, Danny hardly got any of it in school or, regretfully, at home since Jazz tended to get all the praise.

Bruce tells him "good eye" once after Danny spotted something before Bruce did, and Danny preened so brightly Bruce genuinely wondered if stars were going to appear over his head. He'd gotten his hands on video footage about Phantom that had shown him doing that exact same thing.

(oh which reminds me. The moment Danny tells Bruce about his previous hero experience as Phantom, Bruce goes on a research helldive to get his hands on everything about it. He's watched every single video showing Phantom. There were very few videos of Phantom that weren't videos of his fights, which were horrifying to watch on multiple levels.

Including but not limited to the fact that ghosts could apparently survive the most lethal of injuries, and he was never going to get the image of Phantom yanking a steel pipe out of his chest out of his head, or him pulling out a broken chunk of glass from his throat.)

(It was even worse seeing videos of Danny's parents shooting at him. That was a long, uncomfortable conversation.)

Another time Bruce is asking Danny about being a ghost, and Danny wistfully tells him that the thing he misses most is flying. Grappling through the city is the closest thing to it, but it's still fundamentally different -- and in some ways more exciting -- than flying. The closest comparison he could give is an indoor skydiving ring.

Bruce, a week later, rents out an indoor skydiving ring for the day and Danny spends hours inside the wind tunnel. He tells Bruce all about the similarities and differences in the car on the drive home, and then tells him that next time Bruce should try it too.

Just, all-in-all, seeing how these two interact and impact each other is what makes this so appealing to me. Especially with early years Batman. And I had so much fun typing all this out, thanks for the opportunity to infodump haha.

#UGH OP THIS POST TT-TT

AH YOUR TAGS <33

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[veltana]

Buy my heart - 3

✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~1,2k

✦ Rating for this part: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Alpha!Bucky, Omega!Reader, slow burn, eventual smut, pet names (little darling/darling), mentions of gambling addiction.

✦ Series summary: In a desperate attempt to rescue your family from debt, you decide to auction yourself off. The alpha who purchases you turns out to be quite different from what you imagined, leading to a marriage that exists only on paper. However, when an omega moves in with an alpha who hasn't experienced a rut in years and is determined to keep things strictly professional despite his instincts, complications arise.

✦ In this part: The clothes arrive and you have dinner with Bucky.

✦ Note: Reblogs, comments and asks are much appreciated!

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

prev

The contract is long. Bucky claims it's thin. Sitting at the small table at a window in your room, you do your best to go through it. The formal language makes it hard to decipher but so far you've been able to figure out a few things.

Bucky only needs a wife on paper. As far as you can tell, the contract doesn't require you to share a life or even a bedroom with him. There's also no mention of having kids, which is a relief. You're not going to live like a wife and husband, or an omega and an alpha. But still, there is an exclusivity clause.

A small part of you was hoping that now that you're with an alpha you wouldn't have to spend your heats by yourself. It's torture to go through it with just a toy, making it an endless spiral of pain where there should be pleasure. The few times you've had company during heats it's been great, but that was many years ago and he was a beta.

Also, how is Bucky going through his ruts alone? Does the clause only apply to you?

You're interrupted by a knock on the door and when you call for the person to come in, Natasha steps inside. “The clothes arrived, is it okay if they hang them in the closet?” Standing up, you nod dumbly, not really understanding what she means but then she gestures behind her and a slew of people swarm into your room.

In no time things are hanging everywhere in your walk-in closet. More clothes than you've ever had throughout your whole life. When the people are done they leave, but Natasha stays behind.

“As I said before, I didn't know what style you prefer, and not everything will fit. Just put that aside and we'll send it back.”

You find yourself empty of words, and tears burn the back of your eyes as you stare at the opulence of fabric.

“Hey, are you okay?” Natasha sounds concerned. “Here, sit down.” She guides you back down into the chair and takes the one opposite to you. A few straw tears roll down your cheeks but you quickly wipe them away.

“It's just a lot,” you confess with a wobbly smile. “The clothes?” “Yeah, and this,” you tap the papers on the table. “And this!” You wave your arm around the room. “This is the size of our living room at home that I shared with four other people.” Natasha nods. “Feels big?” “And quiet! I can't remember the last time it was quiet at home,” you sniffle.

Natasha smiles at you. “You'll be okay. And just so you know, you can ask anything but I can't guarantee it won't get back to Bucky. He's my friend and my boss.” “Why doesn't he marry you?” you ask. She laughs at that. “Oh, he asked! But he's like a brother to me.” “But he's not your brother by blood?” “No, we grew up close though. Our families cooperated a lot.” “Then wouldn't it make perfect sense for you to get married?” you ask confused. “It would. But I don't want to, and neither does he. He asked out of desperation, not because of some hidden feelings.”

You nod and start chewing your lip. “Anything else?” Shaking your head you just say, “Thank you for all the clothes.” “Don't mention it, I got to shop up someone else's money, it was fun,” she winks and stands up.

She seems to hesitate for a second but then decides to say. “I know Bucky is brusque sometimes, but he'll be the best alpha you've ever known, just give him some time.”

After Natasha leaves you read the rest of the contract and then decide to take a look in the closet. Previously you've only worn hand-me-downs and cheap stuff from the thrift store. Your sense of style is nonexistent and you're not sure what to do with all the options before you. Most of it is neutral but there are pops of bright colors scattered throughout.

Carefully you grab a skirt and hold it in front of you. It's soft and flowy. Too nice for you. From another place, you grab a shirt. It looks weird together with the skirt. Instead, you pick out a plain T-shirt. It reminds you of something you've seen other women wear at the coffee shop where you worked.

“I think that would look nice on you.” With a yelp you drop the clothes and turn to the door, finding Bucky leaning against the frame. “Sorry, darling, didn't mean to scare you.” “Don't worry,” you answer and quickly pick the clothes from the floor. “Dinner is in an hour and I wondered if you wanted to join me or have it up here.” “I'll join you, if you want.” “Yes, I do.” He looks around and nods in approval before his gaze shifts back to you. “Wear something nice.”

Choosing something nice proves difficult since everything is much nicer than anything you’ve ever owned. In the end, you settle on a simple, one-colored dress.

The bathroom is stocked with makeup still in its packaging and various hair styling tools and you do your best to look presentable. Once ready, you head to the dining room Bucky showed you earlier.

After taking a wrong turn and having to double back you finally find the room where Bucky is waiting. “Sorry, this place is a maze,” you apologize before sitting down across from him. “You'll learn in time,” he says, holding up his glass. In turn, you grab yours and he lightly touches it, the sound filling the room for a second.

The liquid is bubbly and slightly amber-colored, you think it's champagne. Carefully you take a sip and your whole mouth is bombarded with tastes you've never experienced before. You understand why rich people drink this.

“That's amazing,” you tell him. “Never had champagne before?” It's such a stupid question you can't help your response. “Yeah, that's why my family had to put me up for auction, to afford champagne,” your voice is filled with acid. A moment too late you realize who you're talking to.

Across from you, Bucky is not impressed, his eyes dark and his face impassive. “Sorry,” you say, avoiding his gaze and sinking into the chair, pulling your shoulders up to make yourself small. “It's lovely. Thank you.”

He puts his glass down. “Tell me about your family.” You'd rather talk about anything else but you don't feel like you're in a position to deny him a request like that at the moment.

“I lived with my parents and two younger brothers just outside the harbor district. Dad works there. I have two older sisters but I don't see them much.” “You still lived at home?” With a sigh you take another sip, hoping the alcohol will grant you strength to go through the memories.

“Dad works long days and mom works sometimes. We used to have it better, live more uptown, but…” you take a deep breath. “Turns out mom has a gambling problem and she had racked up quite a bit of debt with some bad people. My salary went towards helping to pay it off and I couldn't afford my own apartment. But I'd do anything for my family.”

Right then the food arrives. It's soup in a very small bowl. If this is what rich people eat for dinner, no wonder they're all so stiff and unbearable. They must be hungry all the time!

To avoid having to talk more about it, you concentrate on the food. It's delicious. One of the best things you've ever eaten. It's a shame the bowl is so small because you could have easily eaten double. Too quickly it's gone and for the first time you look up, noticing Bucky is only halfway done.

This dinner is turning out to be a real embarrassment for you. For the third time since you entered the room, you apologize for your behavior, and you feel it won't be the last. “I'm not used to eating slowly,” you explain. Bet Bucky is starting to regret buying you right about now. Maybe you can ask Natasha for some pointers on how to blend in more quickly. The servers soon come back to collect the dishes and you're left alone in silence.

“I have a question about the contract,” you say after a moment, hoping it will save you from discussing the previous topic more. “I said you're welcome to talk to my lawyer about any questions.” “I think I'd rather ask you about this one.”

A curious expression crosses his face. “Go on.” Gathering all your courage, you ask about the exclusivity clause, though you still feel embarrassed to bring it up. “If I understood correctly, there is no requirement to sleep together, in any kind of way.” “Correct,” he nods. “We're also not required to share a life, except for appearance's sake.” “Yes,” “What about when my heat comes, or your rut?”

“I haven't had a rut in years,” Bucky says matter-of-factly, then shrugs. “As for your heat, I'll make myself scarce and you're free to nest in your room as you like.”

The next course arrives before you can ask more questions. It's a very small sandwich with something gooey on top. The server pours wine for you into another of your glasses. You've heard about pairing wine with food but never done it in your life.

As they leave you ignore the food and ask him, “Are you on suppressants?” “No,” he answers shortly, clearly not fond of the topic. You can take a hint and you drop it, turning to the small sandwich. It's just as delicious as the soup but the conversation doesn't pick up after that.

next

[evilminji]

Not my usual Fandom BUT...

You know what would be and always is fascinating/interesting/hilarious? For want of a nail type, "tiny change or little action spiral into great and sweeping change" type fics! ESPECIALLY when combined with my dearly beloved Self Insert troupe!

Because? I DO so love the Self Insert! Not so much for the "I can fix it" or power fantasy, as the ability to wander... a stranger in a strange land. Both familiar yet removed. Known to us yet... not. The major actors, major events, certainly. But the lives of the average person?

The noodle shop owner? The ship salesman? A janitor?

We know nothing about this strange new world from their point of view. What secrets can be found in this or that little shop, well off the common path. And it is FASCINATING! Especially if the Insert wasn't particularly FAMILIAR with the source material. Knew enough to get by, perhaps, too know they are in danger... but not enough to twist events to their favor. Assuming they even had the type of personality to TRY such things.

No, no...

What I? Want to see?

What I think would be FASCINATING?

Is a TRUE carry over. Adult mind to adult mind. Someone settled in their ways. Not bold and terribly adventurous, not willing to recklessly seek out danger and pain. No. They know they are going to die. They know they HAVE died. They are now a Jedi. And can feel the Force... and?

It just... helps.

They let go. Yes, perhaps some plans to protect the younglings. If they can. But their ultimately IS no death, only the Force. It is scary, they acknowledge, frightening even. But they... find calm. Acceptance.

They meditate. Open themselves up to the Force and give up their worry and fears, their regrets. All the terrible burdens they brought with them from their past life. It's honestly a bittersweet sort of relief. Ironic, that such a troubled age should be their most peaceful.

Of course... opening yourself up like that? Reaching out so deeply and with such conviction? It's like painting a "hey! I'm right here! I'm definitely going to listen if you say something to me!" Sign on your forehead, where the Force can see it.

So? It DOES.

But unlike Anikin? The Insert isn't a Fighter. So the Force doesn't tell them to fight. After all, every part has its place in the grand machine of Life. Every actor their place on the stage. Sometimes? To change the galaxy? All you need is someone to be on the right planet, at the right time, ready to hold a door open for the right person.

And that's it.

Not everything needs be grand sweeping actions. It can, instead, be the quiet drip drip drip of medicine applied behind a Sith Lord's back. To undo the damage he has wrought. So when comes the time for his plans to unfold? He does NOT find the support he was counting on to succeed. Instead he finds resistance.

But HOW? How would such a thing be DONE? By a YOUNGLING no less?

A youth with no power? Be it social, political, or physical? AND beneath the Sith Lord's very nose? Without being STOPPED? With said youngling being KILLED? Quite simply! Easily, in fact! By embracing the purest of the Light!

Fun.

Who among us, does NOT know of the parasocial relationship? The feeling of knowing someone, considering them "good" and "something like a friend" dispite never once having spoken to them? Being FOND of them? Wouldn't YOU not defend them? If someone sought to HURT them? KILL them? You KNOW them so very WELL don't you? This person speaks LIES about them!

And what of the Adorable Youngling? Small and Cute? Look at their little cheeks and tiny hands! How precious! Why, we have watched them GROW! They are practically family!

But where does the FUN I speak of come into this? Simple. The Holonet. Crechemaster's trying to corral an adult in the body of a child. The Insert is BORED. At peace, yes. But you can really only meditate so many hours of the day. Lessons only take up so much and class work the same. They aren't at an age where the SERIOUS lessons begin yet.

So they have too much free time.

..........have you heard about "Video Game #55? It's apparently got more Video AND Game then ever!" Intriguing~ But, oh. Playing it ALONE it BORING. And playing with... well, INFANTS, is... an exercise in patience. Plus it's probably not appropriate for them. Hmmmmm..... you KNOW.... Insert really DOES miss? Watching Let's Plays over breakfast/lunch...

They've never MADE one... but they know they general script and idea? And for Some Reason? It feels like a GREAT way to pass the time! Yeah! Let's do THAT! And so the Force nudges. Tiny. Seemingly inconsequential. The Master's try to shut it down, Insert is stubborn and refuses, they talk it out. Because they are Jedi and authoritarian force is not their way. Is it frustrating? Perhaps. But the only cure for ignorance is knowledge.

They ultimately compromise. Insert get to keep their little game thing, THEY make sure Insert is compromising Temple security, putting themselves in danger, talking to dubious strangers, or other such perils. It is? A FASCINATING view into the secretive world of the Mysterious Jedi for most of the galaxy. All lead by an adorable Youngling playing games.

Of course, such a silly, ridiculous thing is BENEATH Palpatine's concern. Fun and games? Not even formal or official ones? The child doesn't even represent the jedi. They represent no one. Clearly not a threat, right?

WRONG.

Because one game? Leads to another. Leads to being recommended another. Leads to "hey check out this music". Leads to "how was your day?" Leads to chatting about Jedi philosophy... as simplified for small children. Easy to understand and then complained over like it's maths homework. And... huh.

You guys really liked when I talked about X? Well, I don't know much about it... buuut? I could probably FIND someone or go to the archives? Make a video? I'll make a poll. Vote down below?

Untouchable and distant? Nah. Jedi play "Crafting Game 73" and whine about their Crechemates being JERKS for eating the last dessert. Jedi, in their head's, are small adorable younglings and the amused adults meditating the back ground who watch over them. EVERYONE knows the Jedi. The Jedi are on our datapads. Are our friends. We've totally met them.

Parasocial relationships.

Or maybe that's just me? I just... God I REALLY want to see how they'd react to a initiate who just? Won't stop fuckin making Let's Plays of all things. Just? WHY. HOW? WHY AND HOW?! No, NO don't you shrug at me and run of, youngling! Get back here! What "skill issue"? Which skill? Initiate!!!

@hdgnj @hypewinter @babbling-babull @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @leftnotright @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @spidori

[dulceackles]

Ambivalent Part one - The town

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, sex, violence, enemies to lovers, alcohol, all that. Mention of dead body, a little bit of horror. English is not my first language, so sorry for typos. Also, it is a Y/N, but I've created a background story and a fictional place around it for creative and storytelling reasons. Will not be describing exterior characteristics, tho!

Summary: Dean used to be really important to Y/N but ever since he suddenly left her without telling her why, she's been avoiding even mentioning him. Now, after years, he's back in town, but not because of her. There's a case. The only things she's certain is that she doesn't like him being back.

Word count: 1k

The town of Dimdale was exactly what it sounded like; small, rather boring, and they saved electricity by switching streets lights off by midnight. Not too fancy, huh? Still, it was Y/N's hometown and even tho she sometimes had dreamed of leaving, she'd never actually wanted to pack her bags.

Oily mugs the coffee house, don't ask about the name, was the town's tourist attraction if so you could say. It had been in business since the 60s, owned by the same family, and served the world's best blueberry pie. Y/N had been working there 6 years now and, you guessed it, she loved the simple job she had.

"One black coffee, please, darling!" An old man with a gray beard ordered over the counter.

"Sure, coming up. It'd be 2.50 dollars, thank you," Y/N smiled. She was just pouring the coffee when she heard the bell on the front door ring, notifying her that a new customer had entered the café. She lifted her eyes from the coffee mug to greet the new customers, but her smile dropped the second her eyes locked with a familiar pair of green ones.

How dare he even walk in here? She thought. Dean Winchester, an asshole, liar, toxic jackass, a traitor even. To be honest, she hated him with all her heart and with all the rage she had left in her, but she didn't want to talk about it, or him, or think about it or anything... And behind him in walked Sam. About him Y/N had no ill thoughts about, but she still hated him too simply because he was related to the smallest man who ever lived, Dean. Someone could have described her as unfair, she just called herself a simple girl.

"Hey y...." Sam tried to greet her behind the counter but was quickly cut off by her.

"What would you like?" She gave them her best fake smile that also very clearly said fuck you to both of them. She handed the earlier customer his coffee, accidentally spilling some of the hot liquid into her hand. That made her hiss out of annoyance. That and the two men sitting in bar stools to be exact.

"I… Umm, I’ll take a sandwich, and he'll..." Sam stuttered, clearly taken back by her passive-aggressive character. He knew things between her and Dean had not ended well, but he hadn't thought they had ended so bad it was enough to make a grown woman act like a high school bully behind the counter.

"I'll take the sandwich too." Dean said, saving his brother from the trouble. "Soo... you still work here."

"Clearly." Y/N spat while solving the sandwiches into a paper bag. She had made the decision for them that they'd be eating on the go.

"Oh, actually, we're eating..." Sam tried to put in again, but again, he was interrupted.

"On the go. I'm sure y'all busy, I know he was last time." She gave them the same fake smile she had mastered and reached out to give them the paper bag. Dean grasped it in her hands and got up from his seat.

"It's okay, we are busy actually," He said and tapped Sam's shoulder. "Let's go."

Y/N watched as Sam got up and looked almost upset. For a second, Y/N nearly felt bad, like he had ever been nothing but sweet to her. But then she remembered that he was his brother, and that was enough reasons to hate him.

"And by the way, if you spat on it, just know I won't mind, darling." Dean smirked and then winked at her. Before turning his back, he watched, just a second, how her face turned red. He knew it wasn't a blush but a rage, and he thought a couple other customers might have clocked it too. He walked towards the door with his brother.

"Well, I'm surprised a kitchen knife hasn't flown into your back yet," Sam whispered and Dean laughed and shook his head as they get in the impala. Dean knew Y/N, and he knew that the only bullet she shoots were the bullets coming from her mouth. Well, to be fair, sometimes he had wished she would have just rather picked up a machine gun or something. Still, he thought she was adorable, even if angry. But Dean had promised himself before even stepping his foot over the boarder of this god forgotten town that he'd never drag her into his life again. Even tho they had quite a history, Dean had never told her about his real job because he didn't want to see him and real world ruin her too. No matter how cute, sweet, absolutely choleric, tempting, beautiful or enraged she was, he'd leave her be. 

She deserves better than to be dragged into this life, Dean thought. Besides, there was a case for them to battle.

"Soo.. 25-year-old woman, Sandra Rittenwell, last seen walking home from a night shift at a bar. Couple days later a body is found and well… See for yourself." Sam stretched out to show Dean the crime scene pictures he'd stolen.

"Well, that's a sight." Dean scrunched his nose in disgust. The pictures were cruel to say at least.

"Tell me about it. Surprisingly there were witnesses tho." Sam blurred out, "Victor Hills, called the police at 4am and claimed he saw a "faceless monster" take Sandra. Apparently he had been walking behind her. The police didn't take his claims seriously at first, but after the discovery of the body, they checked the nearby surveillance cameras and no "monster" had been caught in any of them. Police has no suspects as we speak, but they have had a sketch artist draw a portrait of the thing Victor saw."

"Hmm, interesting. Never seen this before;" Dean thought.

"Yup. Did some research and similar incident has happened before. In 1947 a woman disappeared, the body was never found, but locals said few had seen a similar creature in a couple of previous days, leading to the disappearance. One thing is sure, the monster has a type," Sam Said.

"Yeah, and what's that?" Dean knitted his eyebrows together.

"Women, walking home at night." Sam sigh.

"Of course," Dean shook his head for the second time that day.

// Hope you liked it, I love a feedback and hopefully I wasn't rusty. I haven't written other than school stuff in a long time. xx

Next part (x)

[darkuselesssomebody]

𝕧𝕒𝕝𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕖'𝕤 - dark!raider!joel miller x reader

complete masterlist

words || 𝟛𝕜

summary || in which the reader wants a valentine's gift, but Joel's not exactly her boyfriend

a/n || i'm so shocked i haven't written dark!joel before?? i love him, your honor. also, for the raider!joel concept, though overall popular for fanfic, i was personally super inspired by @toxicanonymity and @romana-after-dark. they both have fantastic raider!joel content, please check them out!!

➵ warnings for specific content before the divider, please heed them, this may be triggering content!

➵ technically ooc to joel in the show, but his dark past is hinted at so yeah

➵ not proofread

➵ comment/message if you'd have a request

warnings || smut/dark (dddne)

➵ !! reader is held captive and is experiencing stockholm syndrome. other women to which the same this is occurring are mentioned !!

➵ dubcon sex

➵ unprotected sex

➵ manhandling

➵ controlling dynamics

➵ slight degradation

“you have to do something for her.”

joel wonders how, as his younger brother, tommy always seemed to be nagging him, instead of the other way around. his face pinches in a scowl.

"the fuck i look like? cupid?" he growls back at his brother, rifle sagging on one of his shoulders, forcing him to readjust. tommy rolls his eyes.

"ya even have john and michael doin' somethin' special for their girls." he reminds joel how the other men in the group, with their own souvenirs, at least showed their consideration of the humanity of these girls on valentine's.

"she probably don't even know." joel grumbles, and tommy snorts.

"oh, she knows what valentine's is. the other girls told her. said she'd have liked some clothes."

"the fuck she need clothes for, ya sayin' i can't dress my girl?" joel, ever defensive, hates being talked down to by his little brother.

he hates more the fact that she seems to tell tommy so much more about herself than she does joel.

"y'can dress her, joel." tommy sighs. "but it won't hurt if she wears somethin' other than yer crusty flannels once in a while."

joel rolls his eyes, but he, luckily, doesn't have to entertain the rest of the conversation. a deer rustles the branches of a tree in the distance. joel's a better shot than his brother, always has been. but he's also less agile. as he's about to shoot, his foot crunches on a stick.

the shot still hits the deer's back, but it's a far cry from the headshot he was aiming for. he swears under his breath, but him and tommy are both already stalking the wounded prey, the same glow of determination and predation in their eyes.

they were still family, after all.

she used to never be able to sit still. pre-apocalypse, that meant she was always either fiddling with something, reading a book, or talking but... in the past few years, it meant a lot more silent stimulation. it was okay, she got by counting petals of flowers to herself or tracing the veins of leaves with her fingers to keep her mind occupied.

but the one thing she'd never given up was company. she'd had family, or friends, in every walk of this horrible turn of events, until 6 months ago.

when she was snatched away from her cruel life by an even crueler man. stripping her of autonomy and privacy were mild in comparison to her loss of company. the only other people in the house leered or jeered in her presence.

she was usually locked away from them anyways. in a tall tower she couldn't even use her hair to escape from; kept captive for the satisfaction and pleasure of a bad, bad man.

that's what made her head spin, though. because he wasn't always. yes, he was always sullen, and scowling, rough around the edges and calloused in his touch. but he wasn't always bad.

he'd fixed the bathtub of the house they were squatting in so she could revel in warmth if he wasn't around.

he risked his life for a new pack of cards and even a few books so she could keep her occupied.

and he would sometimes press gentle kisses to her forehead when he slept beside her, unbeknownst to himself, and without realizing the effect he had on her.

when the other men had started getting antsy about her being the only girl around (with her obvious off-limits status), joel relented and let them bring back their own. it was to avoid mutiny and maintain control, sure, but... it gave her company, too. and that was important to her.

the women would confide in her. first, of their fears and then, of their growing affections for their own men. it made her happy, vindicated.

she wasn't alone in her stockholm syndrome.

she's looking at the flowers that michael got for jessica. it's almost comical, with that kinda man and their kinda relationship. but jess liked it - really liked it - and that's all that mattered. john had promised anna something too, which she was talking about as the front door opened.

a dead deer was carried in by the miller brothers, and then some of the other men helped bring it out back to the shed, where they'd scavenge enough to feed the group for the week. as she always does, she approaches and stands in front of joel, greeting him in a low voice. he regards her with a once over, nodding, before his head tilts incrementally up, signalling to his bedroom.

she nods shyly, retreating to the room on the upper floor as joel delegates some tasks, before coming up to join her. she's looking out the window - barred, 'for her protection'- and he finally speaks up.

"what did ya do?" he asks gruffly, referring to the events in his absence.

"played some cards." she smiles softly as she faces him, "talked to anna and jessica." that makes him grimace a little, and she's confused.

"what about?" she shrugs.

"stuff. john and michael are gettin' them things, i guess?" she says it unsurely, "they say it's for 'valentines'?" she says the word curiously, as if wondering if it was something the 4 had made up, or if it was a real celebration. his grimace worsens: he hates when tommy's right. feigning innocence, he continues,

"what's that, then?" she looks at the floor shyly.

"like... a celebration? of... relationships, partners, that sorta thing." it's vague, but it's all she knows.

"huh." joel doesn't continue it further, and he goes silent, as he looks around the room to change out of his dirty clothes.

she sits on the bed, watching him move around, and with every passing moment of silence, her worry grows. did she say something wrong? was he mad? what happened?

when he finally goes to join her, he manhandles her to face away from him. that only makes her more upset, and she feels the prickle of tears in her eyes, as she lays down, and he joins her a moment later.

laying behind her as she feels a tear roll down her cheek, he doesn't realize how upset he's made her: he'd only asked her to turn around so he could fall asleep with the scent of her hair.

she wakes up after he's already left.

she sighs, rubbing her eyes, that always ended up a little inflamed after she cried. there's a little wetness on her pillow, and she flips it so joel doesn't see.

tommy's downstairs, having saved a fruit for her breakfast. she takes it gratefully, cutting it up and fiddling with the bite-sized pieces.

there's something on her mind - tommy, he notices these things. he wished his brother would, too.

"he's getting supplies." he assures her, knowing what was agitating her. she snaps out of it.

"hmm?" she pops a piece in her mouth, sweetness exploding on her tastebuds as she bites into it, "oh. right, yeah." she realizes what he's saying, "didn't he just get some?" tommy shrugs.

"he likes to go out to the abandoned mall - it clears his head." that makes her squirm.

"is he mad?" she mumbles, and tommy pats her shoulder.

"at you? never."

it wasn't exactly true, she thought. he's gotten mad before: if she talks too much to the others, when she doesn't listen to him, or when she finds herself in danger.

tommy knows joel's not mad in those moments. he's just terrified of what could possibly happen to his girl.

after finishing her fruit, she curls up under the blanket upstairs, wanting some time to herself. humming a melody - she thinks it's one that the guys will sing in an off-key fashion when they get particularly drunk - she tries to occupy herself by counting each of the little plaster bumps in the ceiling, and then all the small flowers on the dingy wallpaper of the room.

she gets to 78 when the door swings open. jolting awake, she makes eye contact with joel, who's looking down at her form under the covers.

"somethin' happen?" his voice is less gruff than usual, and she shakes her head.

"nope. just waiting." she gives him a weak, shaky smile. he doesn't return, but he doesn't click his tongue in annoyance, either. it's a win in her books.

he's got a backpack, and it looks pretty full. she wants to ask what's inside, but she knows he'll tell her if he wants to. he sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. she scoots over so he has space.

"let me see you." he instructs, and she sits up, crawling out of the covers. sure enough, she's wearing one of his flannels for warmth, and had slipped into a pair of his boxers instead of her otherwise nonexistent pajama shorts. he's silent for a long moment, before he brings his fingers to examine the material. goddamn, was it old, frayed almost everywhere, and the chest pocket had a hole. he sighs, finally speaking, "comfy?"

she blinks, confused, "huh?"

"'re ya comf'rtable?" he repeats, voice gruffer. she lets out a nervous exhale. was it a trick?

"ye-yes. yeah, i'm comfy." she assure, and he hums.

"heard ya want somethin' new." he finally looks her in the eyes, something he doesn't do all that often. she shuts her eyes, cheeks heating in embarrassment and worry. dammit, tommy, she thinks, knowing the younger man had told joel about her offhand comment on clothes.

"it's fine, i'm happy with this." she splutters out quickly, hoping she won't upset him. he sees right though it though.

"yeah, yeah." he scoffs, waving a dismissive hand, as he gets up. her heart clenches, wondering if he was really angry, when he reaches for the backpack, throwing it at her.

it's not an aggressive throw, and lands on the mattress beside her.

"open it." he instructs, and she swallows thickly, unsure what to expect. the zipper is a little worn, but she eases it open... only to find not only clean but colorful clothes inside. she looks up at him in confusion.

"what...?" and for the first time in a while, there's just a hint of a smirk curling at his lips.

"go try 'em on." he encourages. giddily, she beams as she gets up, taking the bag of clothes into the cropped bedroom. he slumps back on the bed, trying to will away his fatigue. it'd been a hassle to collect all the clothes - more so, to find clean one he thought she'd like - so he leans back, waiting for her to return.

she lays out the clothes on the cramped sink counter space, starting with a simple pair of slightly flared jeans, pairing it with a light blue cropped cardigan. she goes out to show him, an obvious pep in her step.

he looks up as she enters, eyes trailing up and down her body, including the way the outfit fits her curves, and the slight glimpse of midriff.

"don't you look pretty?" he drawls, and, though it almost sounds sarcastic with his hard features, a light smile plays on her lips. she tries on 4 other outfits she could make out of the 10 articles of clothing he got her, and he seems to like each one even better. sure, he'd taken the initiative to ensure all of them were a little revealing - he deserved an eyeful for his hard work, after all - but she seemed genuinely happy, and the bright smile on her face almost rivals the cleavage that she shows off in some of the outfits.

when she shows him the final outfit, he pats the space on the bed next to him, and she obliges, sitting beside him.

"happy?" he finally murmurs, pulling her closer by the hem of her pants, and she nods excitedly.

"very." she assures, softening, "thank you." she doesn't need to clarify her sincerity, as it pours out in her tone. he caresses her cheek with his calloused thumb.

"good girl. you make sure to tell the girls." she almost laughs, knowing she'd show off the gift in the same way jess and anna have been with theirs. he wanted it to be known that fucking michael and john couldn't treat a better than he could, "got one more thing f'r you." he pulls her so she's standing, procuring two more pieces of small fabric from his pockets.

she inspects them, eyes widening a little when she realizes it's lingerie. he glances back at him, and he has a brazen and unashamed glint in his eyes. she's about to make a joke that this one seems more a gift for him than for her, but refrains, obliging with a small nod of her head, and taking it to the bathroom.

she strips out of her clothes, pulling up the lace fabric. the panties are practically a thong, shaping her ass nicely, while the bra enhances and perfects the curve of her tits, a small, red bow in between the cups, matching the bow on the hem of her panties.

she looks hot, and damn, is his taste good.

going back outside, a noise escapes his throat - like a guttural growl. he signals her to turn, and she does, giving her an ample view of her ass. he grabs her by the hips as she does, and she squeaks, as he pushes her down on the bed.

"oh!" she gasps, trying to sit up, but he's on top of her in a moment, mouthing at her neck roguishly, a sloppy trail left in his wake.

her skin erupts in goosebumps, but she knows better than to touch him when he gets like this - his need for dominance forbidding it. her hands grip the covers to ground herself, as his lips trail downwards, cheekily biting the bow of her bra, and taking a nip of her skin along with it. she moans, jolting, and he slaps her thigh - but gently. he's not meaning to hurt her - and trust her, she can tell when he is.

"stay still." he hisses, finally parting from her torso to marvel at her, "good lord, gonna fuck you in all this, sweetheart." he mumbles, more to himself than anything else, as his hands cup her breasts framed in the bra, squeezing softly so as to not damage the material.

usually, he'd revel in pushing her down to choke on his cock, and, when he was feeling more generous, he'd go down on her like a ravenous man.

but he was a simple man, who had been generous enough tonight. and he wasn't putting her in a position where he can't see her in the whole get-up, so the blowjob was out too.

fuck it, he thinks, reaching for the belt of his pants, i need her.

she gets up to help him undo his pants, but he forces her back into laying down, "wanna see you." he grumbles, finally undoing his pants. already hard, he palms his cock, eyes rolling back, "fuck."

he lowers again to shift the slit of the panties to the side, exposing her arousal, swiping his fingers through her mess, making her bite her lip. he wipes it gently on her cheek - a wholesome act, with a backdrop of degradation and depravity. he presses a soft hiss to the bow on her panties, making her shiver, before rising to his full length.

"you want it?" he grunts, as he strokes his cock, adjusting so it's lined up. she whimpers, as he's prolonging both of their suffering just to highlight her need for him. pathetically, she nods, and he laughs - barking and cold. "i can't hear you."

"yes!" she gasps out, unable to hold back anymore. he smirks in satisfaction, shifting his hips forward to bottom out in one stroke.

she cries out, eyes rolling back and head lolling onto the mattress, trying desperately to adjust to the stretch. he doesn't have that same decency, animalistically beginning to move his hips.

a squeal gets caught in her throat, and she cave to her instincts, gripping the wrist of the hand he's holding her waist with, squeezing as an indication of not her pain, but her pleasure.

thankfully, the adjustment was quick, and her surprised squeaks morph into pleasured moans, as he grunts on top of her, eyes raking the way that her tits try to bounce in the confinement of the bra. unusually, he's not annoyed by her touch, and it only makes him move more aggressively, as he can tell what makes her pleasure increase - as she'll squeeze his wrist harder.

"who's making ya feel this good?" he growls, "who takes care f'ya, sweetheart?" she chokes, garbled, broken moans escaping her.

"y-you!" she manages to gasp out, "o-only you, no one else, you - you take care of - of - oh, fuck!" she squeaks, feeling the pressure of her orgasm, "gonna - can i please - please-?!" she begs nonsensically, but he understands her - of course he does. she's his girl, after all.

"cum, sweetheart." he assures through gritted teeth, "who's making you cum?"

"y-you-" she cuts herself off with a cry as she cums, body stilling and legs trembling, as he continues to thrust and she rides out the orgasm.

he follows right after her, the squeeze of her cunt around sending his body into overdrive. collapsing on the bed beside her, the two remain silent for a minute to catch their breath.

finally, he clears his throat, getting up, and pulling her up, too. "go, clean up." he instructs, voice less gruff and softer, asking her to do something for her own good as opposed to his, "then change. don't think i can do another round right now." he knows that if he sees her in the outfit for longer, he'd get hard again.

with a woozy head, she does as he says. when she changes, though, she decides against the clothes that he bought her. she loves them, of course, but their either too coarse or flashy for night-time wear.

besides, they don't provide the precise comfort of stability that the flannel and boxers she puts on again does. though she tells herself she's not sure why joel's clothes seem more comforting than the new clothes, she's lying.

she feels more comfy in them because they smell and feel like him.

he's already knocked out when she exits, sleeping on his side, having evidently left the perfect amount of space for her to curl into his side, pulling his arm over to cradle her.

she knew he would always take care of her.

[f1version]

SANTA DOESN’T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO ‧͙*̩̩͙❅ MSC47

pairing: Mick Schumacher x reader ( she/her )

summary: Mick and you have been best friends for years, been through the good and bad, but feelings change and thoughts spiral. Will this holiday time make both of you realize that you could be the one?

warnings/info: fluff, best friends to lovers, miscommunication (they’re avoiding each other), kissing, a bit of anxiety, a try-to hallmark movie my way through fics. 

word count: 2.1k words

note: inspired on sabrina carpenter’s song! hope you like it, have a good day and happy holidays! 

snowglobe, a holiday special

DECEMBER 20, 2023

It’s cold outside; snow is falling everywhere but not with enough force to block the streets or close the stores. Usually, when the weather looks like this, you would call Mick and bake those cookies he loves. He would put on his ‘Emotional Support’ apron and pretend to help. You would tease him about how he never does anything, just there to eat, and he would laugh, eyes lighten up, and say something along the lines of—I just passed you the flour! or whatever ingredient he helped you grab from the shelf ten minutes back.

Sometimes you wonder how you ended up in this place, so desperately in love with your best friend, with butterflies in your stomach when he hugs you, a silly smile on your face when he tells some awful joke, and an enormous fear of telling him, sort of. It doesn’t matter; that won't stop you from baking cookies on such a pretty snowy day.

You: Wanna come over? I’m making cookies

Mick: Very busy right now

Mick: Just do them without me

You: that's alright

Here’s the thing: Mick’s been acting as cold as snow since the last time you saw each other a week ago. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, not that you are aware of; you were watching Hallmark movies together, and he decided to leave abruptly before the movie ended. Maybe it’s just an emergency, he said, but he’s been running away from you for days, your friends confused over the whole thing. 

You wonder if he’s noticed. Lately, your friends have spent a lot of time telling you how obvious it looks—shiny eyes paired with a never-ending smile. They have also suggested it’s mutual, which you hope because all you've wanted to do before your family's Christmas party is to confess, but who knows, maybe you’ve all been watching too many movies.

DECEMBER 22, 2023

“Are you sure you didn’t do anything to make him mad?” Alicia, your best friend, asks. She came in to leave some decorations for the party on Sunday, but one life update lent to another and of course, the Mick situation came up.

“It doesn't even seem like he’s mad at me,” You say because it’s true, you’ve known Mick long enough to know how he acts when mad,  “he’s just ignoring me.”

She sighs. “Then why don’t you ask him what’s wrong?” 

You’ve asked yourself that a couple of times, but the answer is still not clear, usually is as easy as walking down the street to his house but this time the thought overwhelms you. “Because I'm scared?” You answer, out of breath. “I don't know. I’m focusing on the party, especially because Mom doesn’t come back until tomorrow evening.”

“Honestly, my suggestion is for you to ask him before the party.” 

You sigh, knowing she’s right. The Christmas party is a tradition your families started eleven years ago, after Alicia, Gina, Esteban, Mick, and you decided to become inseparable at one of Mick’s birthday parties. This year it will be hosted at your family home, and with your mom away in Germany for a work conference, you’ve had your friends come around and help. They’ve all shown up but Mick. What the hell is his problem?

“I know Ali but,” Your phone starts ringing, Mickey is displayed on your screen with a picture of Mick carrying Angie. Alicia rolls her eyes and encourages you to take it with her head. “Hello?” 

“Hi. I'm panicking a bit,” he says, the background noise lets you know he's in his car. 

“Why?” You ask, forgetting you were having a crisis on this. “Is everything okay?”

He sighs. “It’s embarrassing, but I have no idea what to get your mom,” he says, and you laugh. Last year, you were having this exact crisis about Corinna.

You hum, thinking, “She wanted new pedals for her bike. Loved some she saw in Bike World; you’ll have to drive a bit, but I’ll send you the pic.” You put your phone away, change the call to speaker, and open messages, sending the picture your mom sent you a month ago. “There you go.”

“You are a lifesaver.”

You smile, letting out a laugh. “I know, idiot.”

“Bye, love you,” he says. Your calls always end like this; it’s a habit, so you mutter Love you back and hang up.

Alicia is staring at you, a grin on her red lips. “I hate both of you,” and she laughs, grabbing her keys and purse, about to leave. You’re somehow dumbfounded. 

“What?”

“Bye, love you. Love you,” she mimics, and you feel heat rise up your cheeks. “You guys really need to talk; I’m done dealing with him too.”

“What? Ali, it’s a ha-”

“I’m coming back at six”

“Alicia!”

“Just ask him!” She closes de door before you can even ask her to come back.

DECEMBER 24, 2023

Needless to say, you didn’t talk with Mick on the 23rd. Too busy dealing with the party and, as Esteban said, too busy avoiding the topic. 

Now it’s 7 p.m., warm lights tint the house while friends and family sway along the music in the background. Mick has been around since ten in the morning, bringing presents, a couple of ingredients that your mom was missing, and decorations, which he then helped put together. Now he’s just in full black attire, wine in hand, singing along to the song playing. Once again, you're too busy in your world to notice him approaching you.

“You always know which songs to play,” he says. Because he knows it’s your playlist reproducing. You know that’s one of his favorite songs.

“I try my best. But I also know it’s one of your favorites,” you answer, and he hums. There’s a void between you, one that hasn't been there before. It's not the tension when you fight or the longing when you're upset; it's not the excitement of seeing each other after months of traveling or the mischief when you prank your friends. It’s different—something that has been building itself for months—and you are too oblivious to understand what it is.

“You look beautiful,” Mick says, not looking at you but at his drink. He’s looked at you enough tonight, he thinks. You look up, suddenly feeling an outrageous urge to kiss him. Try and see if that’s the answer to all your questions.

He’s faster though, clears his throat, and says, “I’m going for more cookies.”

And he leaves. Your eyes stay on his back as he takes one cookie from the snack table. See him hum to the taste. You smile, bittersweet, What is going on, Mick? You want to shout at him, tell him in a million different ways how confusing all of this is, but that’s a talk for tomorrow; you’ve decided, you can't escape it any longer then.

"Shatz,” Someone calls and then says your name.

“Hm, yes, mom?” You ask, and it’s time to eat.

[ 10 minutes later ]

You are in the middle of dinner, or gossiping time, as Gina calls it, when Aunt Adelaide starts asking each one of you—the single, young members of the family and friends—about relationships. It’s not your favorite part, but a lot of fun commentary comes out of it.

Hearing your name, you know it's your turn. “Do you have anyone special yet? Maybe a secret boyfriend you don't want to tell us about?"

You laugh, “No, no. But I hope someone comes along this year.” First, you have to get over Mick, you think, and laugh a bit more.

“I have a neighbor I could introduce you to, dear. He’s a lovely young man.” She always has someone to present you to; it’s surprising. You try to go on dates with them, but they never end up working.

“I’ll think about it.” You say this as the loud sound of silver hitting the floor calls everyone’s attention.

Mick abruptly stands up. “I’m sorry,” he says as he picks up his fallen fork. He looks uncomfortable, like he’s had enough of the food, the music, or the topic. “Excuse me, I’m going for another one.”

The table has fallen silent. Aunt Adelaide is looking at you in amusement, a playful grin on her face. Someone nudges your shoulder, and you know it’s Alicia. Her eyes stand on a strange middle ground between confused and knowing, tilting her head in encouragement, like she always does. You also stand up, not so abruptly, but now everyone looks at you expectantly. “I’m going. Excuse me.”

You follow Mick to the kitchen; thankfully, it's far enough from the dining room that no one will bother.

“Mick?” You call once you’re there. His head is on his hands, and he is murmuring inaudible words to himself. "Mick, what is going on?"

He looks up, his hair messy. He’s overthinking, and you don't know what to do. You feel lost looking at him, far away from his thoughts and feelings. “What do you mean? Everything is alright.”

“You don’t look alright,” you say, shaking your head. “You’ve been acting strange.”

“No, I haven't. We’re alright,” he lies once again, picking on his thumbs.

You sigh, knowing this is when you talk about it—no script, no thinking, just questions and hope for answers. Whatever is budging him has his anxiety running in full force. “No, you’re not, and we're not; I have no idea what just happened, and you're acting as if you barely know me."

He takes a deep breath, runs his fingers through his hair, and looks at you with his deep blue eyes. You see questions being asked but don’t understand how to answer them. “It’s nothing; I'm just. It’s hard to explain; you won't understand.”

“I will try to understand then, like I always do.” You promise, taking two steps forward, close enough to reach out and hold him, "Just please talk to me."

“I don’t want to mess things up between us,” he says, sounding afraid. It reminds you of the time sixteen-year-old Mick broke your favorite perfume by accident. He didn’t want to tell you, too afraid you would stop talking to him. You really hope he didn’t break anything, material or not.

“You won't. I will be here for you.”

“I just want,” he stops himself once again. His eyes never leave yours, so you open yours a bit, waiting, listening to whatever he has to say, and it seems to work because he just says, “You."

“What?” You blank, not knowing what to say or do, not knowing if you understood correctly or if it’s the movie's effect once again. You see the exact moment in which he panics.

“No, fuck. I’m sorry, I.” He looks everywhere but your eyes, searching for an exit. Your first instinct is to grab his hand, keeping him where he is.

“I could,” you say slowly, looking at your now-intertwined hands. “I could be misunderstanding all of this, but, Mick,” you say, looking at him. He’s looking back, hope in his gorgeous sky blue eyes. “I like you, but no, not even. Mick, I’m so in love with you it hurts. I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while, but then you disappeared. You didn’t want to see me; you were acting different, and I got so worried, but I think...”

“That we are both idiots,” he says, a small smirk growing on his lips.

“Yes, yes, we are.”

He smiles and brings his free hand to your cheek, says your name like it’s meant for him to say forever. “I’m in love with you too, so much. I got so scared when I realized that I didn't just like you, that I couldn’t hide it anymore. And then our friends started saying how obvious I was being.”

“Same here,” you say, laughing. He moves his hand, pulling you in for a warm hug. It feels different than any other you’ve shared; the last two pieces of a puzzle you’ve been building together, finally finding their place. It’s a breath of fresh air. Mick’s hands are all around you, softly caressing your back, his head buried in your neck, leaving a small peck before distancing himself enough so he can see your face. You want to ask if it's appropriate to kiss him now.

But he's the first to talk. “Quick question."

“Shoot."

“Do I need a mistletoe to kiss you?” He asks, and you laugh loudly. Shake your head in embarrassment. Oh, how you love this man.

“As much as I enjoy the tradition, all you, Mick Schumacher, have to do is ask,” and now it's his turn to laugh, brings you closer while doing so.

“Can I please kiss you?"

You pretend to think about it and decide to tease him a little bit: “Is that what you asked for Christmas?"

“It’s the exact thing I asked Santa Claus for."

“Then merry Christmas, Mick.”

taglist — @smartstupyd @ziarah . . . add yourself here

[ronearoundblindly]

Forgive me if I sent this ask before... I don't remember if I did 😅 but if not just know that I thought about sending it in since you started this series 🙈

For who would:

If you just hand them your baby niece or nephew or a baby you're watching for a friend (just any baby lol) who would hand it right back to you, silently hold it with a sheer look of panic till you come back and take it or be a natural and not give it back to you at all?

I love this bit of fluff and silliness for a Sunday; excellent question!

James Mace

He asks a lot of questions about what needs done or should be done. Is it changing time? How much head support should he provide? Is this a DND (do not disturb, D&D is for his own kiddos) baby ready for a nap? Is this play time? Should he be engaging the baby or keeping up conversation with the group?

Now, as to whether or not having the baby in his arms gives him any ideas: not any more than he's already had. You two have plans, you've talked about this and are on the same page, so his interactions right then have to do with that baby at that moment. He doesn't necessarily have stronger feelings when handling other people's children.

Curtis Everett

Curtis does not trust himself around babies especially. He goes extremely stiff and extremely quiet. He stares intensely. He will not do anything unless you tell him to do something with the baby. Even then he is not truly comfortable.

Babies bring up a lot of memories and emotions for him, and theoretically he knows he isn't in the same place/headspace as when he was younger, he knows babies aren't in as much danger as the old days, but he still gets so overwhelmed by it.

Yes, Curtis is even like this with his own children. He counts the days until his child is old enough to not be considered a 'baby' anymore. In fact, Curtis enjoys the memory of their infancy, pictures and videos, etc, more than he can enjoy being with them as infants.

Jimmy Dobyne

Honestly, a total natural. Small towns and rural areas mean closer-knit families, neighbors, and friends. They all help each other out. A bunch of kids shuffle around to spend afternoons here or Saturdays there. Babies get passed around to let parents get errands done or go on dates. It's not a big deal; it's just a way of life.

At this point, Jimmy has cleaned up after and fed a dozen different species of 'babies.' He's fine with it. He doesn't play much though, not with babies. Jimmy prefers when they're old enough to run around for catch or sports, etc. That's more his wheelhouse.

Johnny Storm

Fucking terrified to handle babies but LOVES entertaining them. Will do absolutely anything to make that baby laugh. To a fault sometimes because Johnny will get so animated he knocks shit over in the house or wherever you two are.

You give him credit for trying though.

Jake Jensen

Sits that baby up on his lap and continues to watch whatever screen he's focused on.

Jake isn't necessarily bad with babies, but he prefers to continue to enjoy the more adult entertainment/interactions around him. Like Jimmy, he will be more than hands-on excited once that baby can be active with their own interests (sports or otherwise) because he will participate and support 100%. Babies are just a bit too floppy and unreadable for him.

Lloyd Hansen

Thrilled to let those tiny baby fingers try to hold the grip of his switchblade. Adores how fucking angry the parents (or you) get when he plays with knives around them or has them play with the knives. Lloyd secretly finds baby facial reactions to be the funniest things on the planet--but, no, he doesn't actually like babies.

Ari Levinson

Ari is a playful papa through and through. Has more than once strapped that carrier to his chest and wondered around with someone's kiddo for whole parties. Endlessly entertained and entertaining when it comes to babies.

However, Ari really, really doesn't like when babies get grabby and pull at his hair. That shit hurts, and he hates it. Also he's oddly squeamish about spit-up and/or vomit. Technically, he is not a fan of diaper duty, like very, very, very not a fan.

Ransom Drysdale

The absolute fuck are you handing him a baby for??? Bitch, are you insane?! Be real. Seriously. Just don't.

There isn't even much improvement in this behavior when it's Ran's own child. Not a fan of the 'baby' stage, this one.

Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes

Lumping these two together because they do exactly the same things. Steve and Bucky physically treat female and male babies differently; they are sweet and cooing with girls, and then they talk about or mimic sports things with boys. They don't mean to be presumptive in this behavior, just do it be default.

Neither is afraid to roll their sleeves up and help with feeding or changing. They'll give equal attention to the baby and the group around you. They will both happily sit/stand/walk around with a napping baby in their arms--although they aren't thrilled to be unable to help with other stuff while they have no available hands.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Who Would...? Asks List; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

@yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses

@brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81

@bigtreefest @mistressmkay @astheskycries 

@rogersbarber @blogbog710

[manicpixiefelix]

he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way) // epilogue

{ head, heart, hand. masterpost }

Summary: Oliver is haunted by what he's done to get his happy ending in Felix's arms. His guilt is only made worse when he meets the first member of your family to actually remind him of you. Unfortunately, he does not find it to get better from there.

{ context; please read he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way) first }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons. YOU ARE ALREADY DEAD IN THIS ONE, but you do get to haunt the narrative. congratulations?

Warnings: discussions of death/overdose, lots of guilt, manipulative oliver, felix being upset, vaguely unhealthy oliver/felix, lotsa angst, oliver quick reckoning with the sunk-cost fallacy.

A/N: 6828 words. first, i don't usually do part 2s when i say something is a oneshot, so this is a rare occurrence. secondly im sorry this is almost 7k there's something wrong with my brain i think. thirdly bro, bro, listen to me; ANGST. HURT NO COMFORT. HURT NO COMFORT. it's soft in the middle THE SOFTNESS IS A LIE. ITS GONNA HURT ALL THE WAY DOWN (apart from nana i love her nd i hope you will too)

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

One hour and fifty three minutes.

Rounded up, because all things considered, he should round it up, that's two hours.

Two hours. Like the blink of an eye in the scope of a whole life. But a very long time when you sit and count it out.

One hundred and twenty minutes. Seven thousand, two hundred seconds. He's always counting two hours, seeing exactly how long it feels like, how he can fill that amount of time. Seconds pass like a steady heartbeat.

He can do a lot in two hours.

Oliver tries to occupy himself nowadays more than ever, and really tries not to be alone, but it's hard. Farleigh left for Oxford. Venetia, before she decided to backpack across Europe and find herself, wouldn't let anyone touch her anymore.

Oliver doesn't like leaving Felix alone, but sometimes he has to be. You're laying cold in a family crypt somewhere next to a grandfather you never knew, and while Elspeth and Sir James don't comment on it, they both scowled when your parents sprung the announcement on everyone at the funeral.

Felix spends a lot of time alone at the edge of the maze. He's making a fairy garden where you had waited. Sometimes he'll drive into town without telling anyone, and come back with quaint, second-hand miniatures to add. It's beautiful, shining with greens and golds when the setting sun hits it just right.

So Oliver finds time to occupy himself, when he's alone and all he can think about is you sitting by the maze. You laying by the maze. You alive when he'd run from the maze. And the two hours that followed.

Sometimes he leans out of his window and shouts to the gardeners so far away they look like ants; even at this distance, his voice carries, and he sees them turn, search for him, ask if he's okay. He is, and he apologises, and he think about how far his voice carries.

On occasion, out of the blue, he'll lift Felix up when he hugs him, able to get his feet off the ground as Felix wriggles and clutches him out of surprise. Of course Felix lifts him with ease in return, spins him around, but that's not the point. Oliver is stronger than he looks; he wonders if he could lift you, could carry you far, if he could have dragged you if it had come to it.

Some nights he wakes up in a fright, your rapid heart rate beneath his fingers and he swears he could hear you whispering for help amid your shallow breathing. Please. Pleading. Begging. You were alive when he'd left you. He presses two finger to Felix's pulse point beside him, and tries to calm his breathing, to focus on Felix's slow, steady heartbeat.

And some days he sneaks into the computer room and curses how long webpages take to load when he looks up statistics on overdoses. Symptoms. Niche forums where he can learn what it felt like from survivors. People luckier than you. Their words, their stories, the recollections of those horrifying sensations stick with him, even as he diligently erases any trace of his browsing history.

And he thinks about how fucking long two hours is.

"Nan's coming over later," Felix tells Oliver idly one Sunday afternoon, "we're having tea of you'd like to join us." They're laying out in the grass, Oliver in the grass finding shapes in the clouds, Felix on his side, chewing on the stick of a lollypop he'd finished an hour ago and gently tracing abstract patterns on Oliver's chest.

"I thought you said your granny haunted Saltburn," when Oliver looks at Felix, he still can't help the way his heartrate picks up. Felix Catton touching him in the most gentle, caring way; he'd never stop feeling lucky for getting here, and never forget what he did to earn it.

Felix's gaze moves with his fingertips, up Oliver's warm, bare chest, twisting two fingers in the delicate chain around his throat. He looks pensive; but shakes his head after a beat.

"Different nan," he says distractedly, plastic straw trapped between his teeth. He tugs the chain experimentally, like he's forgotten it's attached to Oliver at all. He's in his head again; Felix is always in his head nowadays, but there's still often echoes of who he was, echoes of what Oliver has fallen for in the first place.

And he's finding himself falling more and more for this version of Felix too. So he tell himself that it was all worth it.

"Love," all these pet names - Love, Darling, Sweetheart - because if he slips up, tries to call him Fi, Oliver knows he'll only get ice in return, "is everything okay?" Oliver carefully reaches up to cover Felix's large, warm hand by his throat with his own. Felix meets his gaze, and gives a faint smile, an attempt to reassure him when he says he's fine. It doesn't work, but Oliver lets it go, and lets Felix tug him in by his chain for a kiss.

"Tea sounds lovely," Oliver murmurs against his lips.

There's something about this visit has Felix alive and buzzing the he way he hasn't in a very long time. Still he's quiet, but his eyes are bright as he follows behind the staff members setting up tea and biscuits in the garden. He goes through all the DVDs the family has and picks out a stack he thinks would be suitable, making sure they're all perfectly stacked by the DVD player. Oliver floats along behind him, and simply allows himself to admire Felix's energy.

Still, Felix finally takes a moment to breathe right as it becomes noon, and decides to have a bath to freshen up before his guest's arrival; two hours before she'd be here, Felix reminds him.

Two hours.

Oliver feels drawn to his own room. He doesn't allow himself to be alone in Saltburn often anymore, doesn't like the thoughts that crop up when he does. Perhaps it's a kind of punishment, a painful reminder, penance for what he's done.

There's a scrap of paper that he keeps tucked in a book in his nightstand, his own handwriting stuffed amongst a collection of Edgar Allan Poe's short stories, words he'd clung to and scribbled out the minute he'd gotten the chance so he'd never forget them exactly.

From the coroner's report, according to Duncan and Sir James. Time of Death; around 2am. Cause; narcotics overdose, and there were signs of alcohol poisoning.

On the back, he'd written '12:07'.

"Mum and dad both say it was a tragic accident," Felix's voice in the dead of night, the night they'd gotten the full report, riddled with guilt and unspilled tears, betrays his disbelief regarding the sentiment. Felix doesn't talk about how his last words to you were shouted with anger. Felix doesn't talk about how your last words to him were a desperate plea for him through tears. Felix doesn't think that it was an accident; only Oliver knows that he's almost right, just not in the way he thinks. Or dreads. But he has to bite his tongue on the truth, and let the man he loves live with this unjust guilt.

The water starts loudly draining for the tub, and Oliver isn't sure how long he's been sitting on the edge of his bed with his eyes squeezed so tightly shut, but he scrambles to stuff the page back into the book, and toss it back into it's drawer. He can smile again, and admire whatever outfit Felix chooses for the rest of the day, and pretend like he doesn't feel your rapid heartbeat or hear your shallow breathing every time he touches that paper, like he had the night he left you.

With the hour drawing ever closer to two, Felix keeps checking his watch. The minute he deems it to be time, he gives up all pretence of small talk - which had been another thing severely lacking as of late - and snatches Oliver's hand, pulling him through the house. They even outstripped Duncan and the footmen by the door when there comes a firm knock. Its the only time Oliver has ever seen any of the Cattons open the doors for themselves.

And it's not Felix's grandmother.

"Hi, nan," Felix sounds so genuinely happy as he hugs the older woman at the door with a warm smile and your eyes.

Oliver feels like he's frozen, like he's seeing a ghost. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Duncan actually standing aside, giving Felix and your grandmother a quietly fond smile.

"I swear you get taller every time I see you, oh, my lovely boy," she says with a warm laugh that sounds so damn familiar, "or maybe I've been shrinking, you get to my age and people tend to do that," and Felix laughs, actually fucking laughs. Oliver realises it's been a long time since he'd heard Felix give a proper laugh like that. As the hug ends, Felix let's her tuck her arm in his as she continues, "just you wait, one day you'll only be six-foot tall." Another laugh, and Oliver can see how genuine and broad he's smiling, how his eyes shine when their gazes meet. She's surprisingly sprightly for her age, it seems. Oliver recognises your grandmother from your funeral, but hadn't made the connection at the time, so he's surprised when Felix goes to introduce him and her eyes sparkle with recognised.

"Nan, I don't know if you've been properly introduced, but this is -"

"Your Darling, Oliver," and it's said with such warmth; her hug feels almost like home, "you strange, little thing," she laughs, "it's called a hug; are you not a hugger? I should have asked," but she doesn't apologise, nor does she let go for a few more beats. Oliver gives into this moment, closes his eyes tightly and hugs her back.

"Our Darling Oliver," Felix echoes with such admiration, and when Oliver opens his eyes, it's the first time since you'd passed where his gaze has held only the love and pride Oliver had been craving since he'd first laid eyes on him.

Once Nana - she'd insisted Oliver call her that too - lets him go, she tucks her arm in his, and is waving Felix over to her other side, briskly asking where tea was to be held. Duncan leads the way and she fawns over him too, apparently downright overflowing with love for Saltburn and everyone and everything in it. She talks more than she doesn't, but considering who Oliver is and who Felix has become, that suits them both just fine.

It's been too long since they've had tea together, she insists, and doesn't talk about why exactly that would be. She doesn't bring you up, not while you were all making your way through the house, but once she's settled outside, she takes a moment. The way she looks at Oliver in this moment makes him queasy; the smile, that look in her eyes, the way her gaze takes all of him in. A woman, whose time is so precious to her, taking her time to make him feel seen. Felix is quiet, intrigued by the exchange.

Your phantom heart beats beneath Oliver's fingertips.

"You're Y/N's grandma," Oliver says quietly, breaking the tension. Present tense still, they all play pretend. She smiles, and finally leans back. The moment is broken; Felix pours them each a cup of tea. Nana takes a jammy dodger and looks over the gardens with a smile.

"Of course, dear," she says sincerely, taking a bite of the biscuit, but being so eager to talk that she spoke through half a mouthful, "and when they were thirteen they told me I was Felix's grandmother too, because they'd overheard Felix's mum talking about how she hoped they'd get married some day." Felix snorted a laugh at that, turning pink around the ears as he prepared everyone's tea, as if on autopilot.

"Does that -" Oliver begins awkwardly, but he tries to smile, "do you think in time, they would have ask the same of you about me?"

"Considering how they spoke about you," there's a twinkle in your Nan's eyes as she turns back to him, smile knowing, "there's absolutely no doubt in my mind, my dear." All you had ever done was love him; love him and stand in the way of the love he desperately craved.

Oliver watches his tea for a long while, spinning the ornate cup on its matching saucer, while your Nana almost immediately picked hers up and took a tentative sip. Watching out of the corner of his eyes, Oliver notes the way her face goes on a journey of emotions, from pleased, to confused, to a sudden realisation as she looks to her cup.

"I should have asked you how you liked your tea," Felix realises too late, apology in his voice as Nana puts her cup down with a forlorn, yet fond look.

"No, darling, it's nice to know you know how my grandchild liked their tea," and she holds her cup delicately, looking into it's warm, brown depths, "just the same as I always made it for both of us when they were much, much younger."

"I am so sorry to ask," Oliver hears himself blurt out, unable to help himself, "but how does all this love just skip a generation?" It comes out far worse than he intends it to; he means to ask how someone so loving as you come from parents so uncaring, yet how did either of those parents turn out the way they did when the woman in front of him was clearly bursting with just as much love as you had been. Thankfully, instead of being offended, your grandmother laughs.

"My daughter is a wonderful, intelligent, compassionate, impressive woman," she begins, but sighs with unmistakable disappointment, "but my late husband was never capable of even trying to be a father over pursuing his own interests, and it's one of the few traits she actually inherited from him," she shook her head, "and she went on to fall in love with a man who loved her but suffered from that exact same defect," after a beat, she looked up with a warm, reassuring smile, "it's why I love Y/N so fiercely, and so hard," her grin turns soft and adoring, looking between the two boys before her, "the only way my daughter has ever disappointed me is as a mother, but I will never be disappointed in Y/N as my grandchild."

Oliver knows there's tears in his eyes, and Felix has ducked his head. Immediately Nan begins apologising, realising she'd set both of them off. Despite this, Oliver tries to wave her away, insisting it's fine, before he asks about her; he's heard bits and pieces he thinks, but Y/N had always been so cagey about their family. Honestly he's surprised that your grandmother knows so much about him when he feels like he's barely heard about her.

Despite turning out to be an incredibly decorated artist, with paintings selling for more than Oliver's pretty sure his own family's house is worth, your Nana is quick to downplay her own successes, simply insisting that it took decades of hard work. Again, he sees you in her eyes.

"We've got a few up around the house," Felix adds, "most of them actually from before we even met Y/N," and your Nana gives him a shove, as if flustered and embarrassed by the idea. But Felix is beaming, happy to be showing off her accomplishments, just as he always took joy in celebrating you; "there's one in your room."

"What?" Oliver asked, and your grandmother also seemed surprised, though touched by the thought.

"It used to be their room, actually, but Ollie moved in there, so Y/N was staying with me," he explains a little awkwardly, wanting to skim around as many implications as he could. Thankfully she doesn't comment. All she asks is which one. Felix and Oliver both think about the room; Felix about the few pieces of art on the walls, Oliver about your time of death in the drawer. You were alive when he left you -

"That one of the stars, and that person smoking; I think you actually gave it to them as a gift," he frowns for a beat, "for when they turned seventeen, I think?"

Oh, Oliver knows that one. It's enchanting, blues so deep, so rich it's like you could swim in them, stars that seemed to actually glow on the canvas, and the hazy, dark outline of the window in the foreground, and part of a figure against the windowsill, lit cigarette the lone spot of fire, of red or orange, that makes everything else warmer for it.

"That one really surprised me actually," Nana admits, giving Felix a shrew smile, though he only seems confused, "did they ever tell you anything about it?"

"Said you painted it for them; pretty sure I remember them crying about it," he says fondly, reminiscing, "one of the best gifts they ever got, I'm not lying, they say it every year. It's beautiful." Then, as if recalling what she'd actually said, he looks at her curiously, "surprised you?"

Her smile widened into something both knowing, and endeared.

"I asked them to send me a photo, a postcard, their very best drawing, anything, as long as it was their favourite place in the world - do you really not recognise it?" The tea and biscuits are gone by now, the tea portion of their afternoon is coming to a close. Felix shook his head, almost looking like a lost child, as if he was aware there was something he was supposed to be understanding but couldn't quite get it, "Felix, my dear boy, they sent me a photo of you; that's their dorm room window from boarding school."

Felix looks winded, and a bit like he's about to cry.

"Oh you two were impossibly sweet," she reaches over and holds his hand tightly, looking over to Oliver earnestly, "you take care of this dear boy and his heart, you hear me?"

"Yes," Oliver all but trips over his words to agree, "of course, nan." And she gives him a pleased grin.

They move indoors after this, Felix quiet but lending his arm to Nana, which she takes, while she explained that usually you and Felix would visit a few times a year when they were on break, but she thought it would be best to come to Saltburn this time, given the circumstances.

"You should come see the place when you get the chance," she insisted, patting Oliver's hand.

"It's mostly where Y/N was raised before they ended up staying at Saltburn," Felix supplied with a grin, piquing Oliver interest.

"Y/N's childhood home? Oh I have to see that," he grins, and your grandmother grins brightly for a long moment.

"I'm sure Y/N would love that, they can give you the grand tour -" but her face falters, falls, as if she'd just remembered. Sombre silence, the spell is broken. "I'd love to have you around, dear," she corrects, much softer this time.

Felix lets her pick a movie, while Oliver settles himself awkwardly on the sofa. He wants to reach out to Felix, to touch his cheek, feel his boyish smile and know that it's real. But Felix isn't really even looking at him. There's something childlike about his enthusiasm here, about how he sits on his knees on the floor, watching with rapt attention as your grandmother pores over them. He practically glows as she praises his choices. When she picks one, she hands it over and he scrambles on all fours across the short floor space to the DVD player, fumbling with the case like he can't put it in fast enough. There's a softness in your grandmother's eyes as she watches the boy who has seemingly forgotten the man he is; when she looks at Oliver, its like he sees her asking how easy is he to adore, what a beautiful young man.

"You don't mind watching a movie do you, Oliver, dear?" She asks, though it's clearly an afterthought. He's already shaking his head, assuring her it's fine. Felix is already scrambling back, remote in hand. Oliver tries to make space for him on the sofa between himself and your Nana, but he seems content to sit on the floor in front of her, leaning back against the sofa with her knees gently pressed against either of his shoulders. Handing her the remote, Felix twists to give Oliver an expectant smile.

"Come here, mate," he insists, patting his lap, his legs kicked out in front of him. At Oliver's obvious confusion, Felix blinks for a few moments. It's like he's waking from a dream. His face falls, he goes to apologise, strained smile on his face, "sorry, I know that's weird, you don't have to -"

Slowly, Oliver moves from the sofa, sitting beside Felix on the floor. Your grandmother's knee is pressed gently to his back, but he's not quite sure if he's capable of relaxing enough in this moment to mind. She's playing with Felix's hair, having already started the movie.

"This is what you and Y/N would do," Oliver said softly, and rested his head on Felix's shoulder. Felix takes his hand, and laces their fingers together.

"Do you like it when people play with your hair, Oliver?" Your grandmother asks idly.

"Um, sometimes," he answers, still feeling rather awkward. He hears her chuckle warmly.

"It's okay if you don't want me to; Felix likes it so much he lets me braid it when it's long like this."

"Oh, I know Felix loves it," Oliver hears himself agree, "if he were a cat he'd be the kind to purr any time someone scratched between his little cat ears." And while both he and your grandmother share a fond laugh, he can hear Felix's smile in his words. He gives Oliver's hand a squeeze.

"I can't even argue; I wish I could purr right now."

Oliver wants to bottle this moment forever, keep it locked tight in his chest.

But the movie is a long one. One hour and fifty six minutes. Two hours rounded up. A whole two hours. Enough time to fall asleep with his head in Felix's lap the way they both said you used to. He wakes with your heartbeat in his ears, rapid, alive, left for dead.

"You okay buddy?" Felix looks at him with genuine love and concern; it's been such a long time since he'd seen that look, even with everything that had been happening, "I'm here, you're okay," he assured. Over by the television, putting the remote back, your grandmother glances over at the interaction with a warmth that makes Oliver feel queasy in this moment.

And he'll look up from the book, from his notes from the coroner's report crammed in, obscuring the end of one story while The Tell-Tale Heart begins on the other. Felix will be getting ready for bed in the other room, but he won't sleep there. He can't sleep there. Can't sleep in that bed without you, can't move the costumes from that night that hang side by side as a reminder of the hole you'd left behind in his life. Oliver will read approximately two am in his own messy handwriting, and look at the digital clock on his bedside that had read 12:07 when he'd crashed into his room and locked the door and sunk down against it. The numbers had been shining red in the darkness. On the wall behind, that starry night sky and the hint of Felix and his cigarette; a home you'll never return to hung up in the home you'll never truly leave.

He put enough coke in that bottle to kill a fucking lion. He'd given you the bottle. He'd told you he loved you. He'd left you like that.

He knew you were dying.

He'd left you alive.

Two hours.

The book snaps shut. In the silence he thinks he hears your breathing. Please, Ollie, help. Paranoia is a cruel thing, he has to tell himself; paranoia and guilt.

"Can I ask you something?" Felix joins him just as he's putting the book back in it's drawer. Oliver, heart beat racing - never as fast as the memory of yours, oh now it's all he can think about again - nods quickly. Felix sits on the end of the bed, clearly preoccupied, fussing with the buttons of his pyjama shirt. The days are getting cooler now; Oliver misses his bare skin against his, but he still feels too precarious to make such an observation.

"It's about Y/N," Felix swallows, can't meet his eyes, "about that night." Oliver feels his mouth go dry; the worst fucking night of his life. The night he doesn't know if he'll ever figure out if he regrets all he'd done.

He nods again.

"Were you the last person they spoke to?" It's like Felix is forcing himself to not shy away from this moment, giving Oliver the attention he thinks he deserves for such an important question. Then, after swallowing hard, he can't help but drop his gaze, "why," he can barely get it out, there's already a lump in his throat, "didn't they come into the maze too?" Oliver can't even give him that.

You'd been such a mess on your way to the maze, even with Oliver supporting you. Crying, furious, apologetic; you were everything at once. Even when you couldn't bring yourself to go in, everything about you had been sliding from one emotion to the next. But then it had stopped.

"I can wait for Fi here." It's the most sure that he'd seen you all night. It's when he knew. It had to be you, even if he loved you too. He'd never forget how clear your smile was, how sincere you'd urged him into the maze to follow the tail of what he thought was right. The sight of you, waiting, obedient and loyal for your master to return; "I'll be here, I promise; I'll wait."

Oliver knew before he'd even entered the maze that Felix's return to you would be too late.

In the present, Felix waits too, diligent, expectant. Oliver thinks about lying. Oliver thinks about how the truth will break his heart. Oliver thinks about how close Felix will hold him in his guilt riddled grief.

"I don't think they wanted to interrupt -" Oliver tries to start, but Felix immediately swears, hangs his head.

"Can't fucking believe I did that," he spits, "I was angry, and off my fucking face, sure, but that was fucking low, even for me," he admitted, pitching himself back on the bed, whole face scrunched up with guilt, barking out an upset fuck far louder than the others, prompting to Oliver to tentatively ask what he means. Felix took a moment, as if forcing himself to calm down, before he admits, voice low like he was sharing a secret, "I never even took Eddie into the maze," he sighed. After a beat, he conceded, "no, okay I did, but we didn't do anything - we made out a bit, but -"

"You didn't fuck you ex-boyfriend in the maze," Oliver connected the dots quickly, "but you did fuck your best friend's ex-not-girlfriend who you kind of stole from them, out of spite after kicking them out of your the bed you've been sharing all Summer?"

"Fucking hell, Ollie!" Felix sounds especially wounded when he lays it all out like that.

"Sorry," immediately, Oliver apologises, knot in his stomach when he hears Felix's pained tone. He wonders if this was what it was like for you all through the night of his birthday. Fuck, he can't think about that.

"No, but you're right," Felix admits, eyes finally opening, looking all hurt and vulnerable. Oliver lays himself down next to Felix, going the other way, both of them looking up at the ceiling. Oliver's hands rest on his chest, trying again, softer this time.

"So was a special place to them?" He gets no response other than a guilty nose from Felix, "you think that's why they wanted to wait by the entrance?"

"They wanted to wait for me," Felix says weakly, clearly in his head about that night once more, "didn't want to interrupt even as I was fucking defiling our-" but he catches himself turning bitter again, mouth snapping closed, "after everything I said that night," he mumbles, "fucking hell," he chokes out. The pain in his voice is audible. This is the sweet spot, Oliver thinks.

"I can wait for Fi here," Oliver whispers amid Felix's faint sobs.

"What?"

"You asked me what their last words were," Oliver told him as softly as he could manage; Felix sits up, eyes wide, distraught, so full of guilt and love and - "only thing they were properly coherent about; waiting for you," Oliver props himself up, reaches out to wipe a tear from Felix's cheek.

"You're not- Ollie, please tell me you're not kidding," Felix practically begs.

"I can wait for Fi here," Oliver reiterates, making sure to meet Felix's gaze as he holds his face, "'s the last thing they said- they said; I'll be here, I promise; I'll wait."

God he can see it in Felix's eyes; it's like the man's entire world crashes down around him. But he clings just as Oliver had hoped he would. As Felix holds him tightly, Oliver can't look at the glaring, red numbers of the clock on his bedside, the constant reminder of the two hours where he could have done something. Two hours and those wouldn't have been your last words.

He looks at the painting. At the stars. At Felix and his cigarette and your idea of what home looks like. The stars look just like they did that night. Just as bright. Oliver closes his eyes. Guilt twists people into shapes they don't often recognise; Oliver just holds Felix, hopes they twist into something together.

Except Oliver's guilt isn't the kind that twists, it's the kind that bites. It's like moths, eating him from the inside out. The guilt leaves him with jagged edges and thoughts he'd rather not be having; there are shades of Felix Catton that he loves, but shame and revulsion bites just behind the guilt as the months pass and he realises more and more this is not what he wanted. This is not the Felix he wanted.

Felix is like an echo, like the sun without it's warmth; he can look just the same, smile, talk, charm just the same if it was required of him, but there was something clearly missing from every interaction. Guests to Saltburn would pull his parents aside and ask if everything was alright. He is, but he is not the same as he once was.

Every day Oliver looks in the mirror and sees something grotesque behind his eyes that no-one else seems to notice. Felix Catton was meant to be the prize, the one who tossed aside everything but the best, the one who made the world fight for his attention, and feel heartbroken when he merely looked the other way. After all this, Felix Catton was not someone Oliver expected to be bored by.

Oliver Quick had lied for, lied to, betrayed the trust of, worked to gain the trust back of, loved, made fall in love with him, and literally murdered the love of his life who he also loved and was themselves also in love with Oliver while still considering Felix the love of their life, just to get a chance to spend his life by Felix fucking Catton's side. He wasn't allowed to not want this.

Felix smiles at him, says he loves him, fucks him, but it's not the dream Oliver once had. Something is always missing. No. Oliver deliberately took that thing away. But he can never admit that, nor can he ever regret that; too far gone. Oliver doesn't want to talk about the past, Felix can't being himself to talk about the future. Trapped together in the present, living lives that no longer feel like enough. Their routine becomes suffocating. Even Venetia, the few times she's stopped back at Saltburn, can barely manage a disdainful look, as if merely inconvenienced by Oliver's presence.

The growing apathy of the estate and it's occupants is exhausting. The cost of this lifestyle has long since surpassed it's value. He's even bored of being haunted. Two hours feels like fucking nothing when the days drag on the way they have been. Behind his eyelids he doesn't see you begging for help, you hiss for him to run, to get out.

He should have listened.

"Ollie, can I show you something I found?" Felix sounds bright today, and though Oliver wants to roll his eyes at the idea of anything in this house being new or novel enough to show off, he smiles back instead.

"'course Felix, what is it?"

Except Felix isn't smiling at him. Felix is looking far more serious and determined, sitting on the edge of their shared bed. Oliver immediately frowns.

"Have you been hiding something from me, Ollie?" It's a trap; a forced confession. Oliver shakes his head, plays dumb. Felix takes a deep breath, the kind that shifts his whole body, his expression remaining firm, "before I show you this thing, I want you to be honest with me; you promised you wouldn't lie to me anymore, you remember?" Oliver tries to lighten the mood, leaning against the window with a warm smile.

"Of course, my lovely Felix, no more lying," he assures, but the hairs on the back of his neck stand up with the way Felix remains quiet.

"What's seven-past-twelve mean?" Felix is watching him closely; too closely. Scrutinising his every move. It's like Oliver's been doused in ice water, even his tongue frozen in his mouth, "and what's it got to do with what happened on the night of your birthday?"

Felix doesn't even look at the night table as he opens it; his gaze is solely on Oliver. It's clear he'd done this before, pulling out the book, flicking through it's pages, and pulling the delicate, incriminating piece of paper out from where it had been safe for so many months.

"Felix, I-"

"What does twelve-oh-seven mean?"

Oliver is the deer again, trapped in Felix's accusatory gaze. For just a moment, Felix's voice drops, pleading with him for some other explanation, that Oliver wasn't somehow caught up in what happened, more closely, more malevolently than he'd ever said -

"Tell me," there's tears in his eyes, the furious kind, the ones where he's desperate to love and hope against all odds, "Oliver," he pleads through gritted teeth, "tell me you didn't know."

"Know what?" Oliver's voice is a hoarse whisper; he knows he is caught, all he has left now is borrowed time and a desperately silver tongue he doesn't know if he can rely on anymore. But Oliver's tragically weak denial is enough for Felix to all but jump to the right conclusion.

In a rush, Felix has Oliver by the collar of his shirt, pressed to the window -

"You knew they were dying and you fucking left them there."

This is the tipping point, the end of whatever good this had been. Felix could hurt him, Felix had hurt countless people on your behalf, he'd seen it himself. But Felix had always been the bleeding heart; you were the one who had to be kept on a leash. Felix could hurt him, could probably maim him for what Oliver was about to say, but he never shared your stomach for true Machiavellianism.

"Of course I knew," Oliver managed coldly, despite Felix attempting to crush all the air from him, "the amount of coke I gave them in that champagne could have killed a rhino-" it needed to be unforgiveable, the confession, so Felix would let him leave, would never want to see him again. He hadn't expected the force of Felix's rage to have the glass behind him give out.

Oliver falls from the second story window into the hedge garden below. Felix's shouting is tearing through the whole house it seemed, making his way downstairs, while Oliver tries to regain his breath and figure out if anything's broken. He's pretty sure it's not, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt as Felix drags him by his feet from the hedges, demanding at the top of his lungs that Oliver get the fuck out of Saltburn.

Every single person who'd been in the house comes outside to view the commotion, to see Oliver struggling to his feet, to get away from Oliver. Elspeth looks helplessly between the two boys, wondering what happened -

"Tell her what you did," Felix demanded, once more getting into Oliver's space, jabbing at his chest, "tell her what the fuck you just told me -" and Oliver's strength isn't insignificant, but Felix is in a fury, flooded with rage and adrenaline, and he grabs the back of Oliver's shirt like he's scuffing a cat, shoving him towards his mother like an offering. Oliver struggles because he feels like he has to, feels wild, feels feral, but it's the most of anything he's gotten from Felix in so long. His mouth stays shut, won't give him the satisfaction of a confession.

"He killed them," Felix doesn't even let Oliver have his power play before he grows bored. He shoves Oliver just a little, grip unyielding despite Oliver's best efforts, like he means nothing to him. Elspeth and Sir James are confused, looking between them both, but Felix isn't done with stringing Oliver up for all of Saltburn to see, "Y/N; he intentionally dosed their drink and left them to die outside the maze."

The Catton parents immediately look crestfallen; it's the first time in months Oliver's felt genuine guilt again. Oliver stops fighting. Felix lets him go. Elspeth asks him if this is true; that heartbroken hope is going to make him sick.

"Just send me away already," he drops his head.

"Oliver," Elspeth's voice is firmer this time; when he looks up, she's stepping towards him, tears in her eyes despite how hard she's clearly trying to hold herself together, "is Felix telling the truth?" Is this it? Is this the final gate to his freedom from Saltburn.

"Yes."

Elspeth slaps him so hard her ring draws blood. Oliver hadn't thought that was even possible, but his head is ringing from the collision.

"Get. Out." She hisses with absolute malice as he's hunched over, clutching his face. Felix is by his mother's side in a heartbeat, arm around her, looking at Oliver with contempt. Behind them, Sir James is ordering Duncan and the other staff members to get Oliver off of the property as quickly as possible, but the look in Elspeth's eyes is burning, "this is my family, you monster."

At first, it almost feels worth it to leave Saltburn. To leave the Cattons and their bullshit and their games behind. He thinks he knows them well enough to trust that they don't want the kind of scandal a murder on their hands would be, and for the most part, he's right.

It's not the Cattons who haunt him after Saltburn, though they may be pulling the strings. It's you. It's you sitting on Felix's bed in his dorm room reading every single detail of Michael Gavey's file with threats on your tongue. It's the casual way you talked about being able to access his academic files to change his grades if he wanted. It's you, tipsy at Saltburn, admitting that you got Eddie transferred without his consent to a university on the other side of the country after he cheated on Felix with Venetia.

There's no place for Oliver to return to at Oxford... He's not entirely surprised about that, however, there's also apparently no record of him ever attending. Any calls or enquiries he makes are shut down with the kind of immediacy that seemed reserved for shows about government conspiracies. When applications open for other universities, it seems websites shut down the minute he fills out his damn name. Nowhere in the world seems willing to consider him.

Having him audited seems like overkill. When it happens the next year, despite no employer willing to even consider him for an interview, the existential dread of his situation sets in.

Felix never had the stomach to finish the job; he'd let you haunt Oliver forever.

[angels-fantasy]

I was thinking what if Dad!Bakugous child was quirkless, and essentially was bullied the same way Midoriya had been, I feel like Bakugou would blame himself thinking that this was simply karma for the crap he did in Middle School no? Angst to Comfort pls

What Goes Around, Comes Around (Request)

Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Details/Warnings: established relationship, reader is referred to as mom, CW: Children

Word Count: 995

hello thank you for your request! this was a little hard to write because i'm not very good at angst 🥲 so i hope you like it!

When Katsuki got with you, he knew you were quirkless. He knew that if he had a child with you they could potentially end up quirkless but he's grown up a lot over the years, so he didn't care.

But one thing he didn't know, was that his child would be bullied the same way he used to bully Izuku Midoriya.

When his son was declared quirkless, it was hard on the boy because he had a pro hero as a father, so there was so much pressure on him to be as great as Katsuki. But you and Katsuki made sure to tell him it was okay to be quirkless and he could still grow up to do great things and be successful. He had learned to accept that he didn't have a quirk, and that was okay.

Though now your son was in his first year of junior high, and you both could tell he was struggling with something, but you couldn't tell what it was exactly.

"Should we ask him what's wrong?" You asked Katsuki while you two were lying in bed together. It was night time, so your little family was getting ready to go to sleep.

Katsuki thought for a moment, "I don't know. I know it's good to let them talk to you when they're ready but he's been all quiet for fuckin' ever."

You frowned, "I think I'm gonna ask if he's feeling okay, and just make sure he knows he can talk to us."

He nodded and sat up, "I'll come with you."

The two of you got out of bed and walked to your son's bedroom, knocking on the door and waiting for him to give you the okay to go in, which he did.

"Hey baby." You said walking in. You and Katsuki sat next to each other at the foot of your son's bed that he was lying in.

"Hey." He said, now focusing on you guys instead of the TV.

You took a deep breath, "Are you feeling okay honey? We noticed you've been a little down, and we just want you to know you can always talk about how you're feeling."

Your son looked at you and sat up in bed, fiddling with his fingers. "I'm fine guys. I'm just tired-"

"Don't start with that, you know it's not true." Katsuki cut in, making you hit him lightly on the shoulder.

You crawled further onto the bed and hugged your son, waving Katsuki over to do the same.

Your son was quiet as you both hugged him, and then he spoke up. "Mom, were you ever bullied for being quirkless?"

You turned to face him quickly, eyebrows furrowed in worry. "Baby, are people bullying you at school?"

He looked away, "It's not a big deal-"

Katsuki cut in again, "Like hell it isn't a big deal. Who's fucking with you at school?"

You both listened as your son told you everything that another student in his class did to torment him, and it all sounded too familiar. Katsuki's face was pale, and he got up and walked away.

You stayed in your son's room and said, "Your dad just needs some space right now. You know he's a hothead, so he's gonna go calm down okay?" You felt bad lying to your son, because you knew the exact reason why Katsuki walked away.

The boy nodded, and he leaned into you as you held him. "Baby don't you ever think you're less than others just because you're quirkless. You're loved, and that's what matters, okay?" You said, to which he nodded.

"And I know sometimes it's hard for you, especially because of who your dad is. But you know he doesn't care about you becoming a pro hero. He just wants you to do what makes you happy, and so do I. So we're gonna talk to those teachers at school and maybe even that little shit's parents." You said, making him laugh.

"Thanks mom." He said.

"No problem baby. I want you to always tell us what's wrong, okay? Even Dad."

Your son nodded, and you kissed his forehead and wished him goodnight.

Walking into your bedroom, you saw Katsuki sitting at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. You closed the door behind you and went to sit next to him.

"I fucked up." He said, his voice hoarse. "This is my fault because I treated Deku like shit when we were kids, and now I'm getting my karma."

You frowned and hugged him, "Katsuki stop it. None of this is your fault. This is society's fault, that's it. People are always going to have a stigma about quirkless people."

He shook his head and cursed, "You don't understand. I told Deku to jump off a building, just because he was fuckin' quirkless! And now my kid is getting told the same shit!" He cried.

You didn't know what to say, so you continued hugging him and whispering comforting things to him. Reminding him that nothing that was happening now is his fault.

You held his face in your hands, "Hey, you know what, we should be glad he told us. Because you know Izuku didn't tell his mom, and because of that he suffered a lot more. But we just need to be there for our baby as much as we can right now, and tell that shithead kid to leave ours alone."

Katsuki nodded, "I know. I just can't help but feel like shit, because I was that bully once."

"Was." You emphasized, "You used to be, but not anymore. You've grown a lot since then, and you're a changed man now. So just remember that, okay?"

"Okay." He whispered.

You smiled and kissed his cheek, "I love you and our kid. Tomorrow, we'll let him stay home and have a family day."

He smiled lightly and nodded, "Yeah, okay. I love you too."

authors note

hope u liked it! love ya!

tag list for bakugou fics: @doumadono

[hangesdarling]

before i let you go — h. zoë

PAIRING. Hange Zoë x fem!reader SYNOPSIS. You see your lover for one last time before being betrothed to a man you don't love. CONTENT. arranged marriage, implied abuse, unwanted pregnancy, cheating, angst, implied sex, pain, me putting unnecessary symbolisms WORD COUNT. 1.9k A/N. I miss Hange sm it hurts. I miss their love and now I know no one can give me the same feeling as they are. I regret thinking I'd be happy with someone else. ANYWAYS IM BACK. IDK HOW LONG BUT I MISS HANGE SM 😭 please bear with my shitty writing, i haven't written in three months 😭

Staring at your wedding dress, you should have felt excitement and anticipation of the comfort the future holds. Of being a wife and a mother. It was what the women around you taught you should become. However, the longer you stare at your wedding dress, the more your vision seems to blur. Suddenly, the floral walls of the new home where you sat seem to melt, pouring like wax into the polished floor. The birds sing outside in the warm morning as your world crumbles. In a fortnight, you will lose your last name, your life, and your most beloved. 

Your fingers clutched a nearly crumpled letter, the rim of your eyes hot with unspilled tears. Gently, you smoothened the letter in your hands, reading the words scrawled for what seemed to be the hundredth time. It read:

Let's meet again for one last time. — H

Hange. 

A whisper left your mouth as if saying it louder will draw attention. It was freeing to utter their name again. Hange. Your beloved. The one you'll be leaving behind in a fortnight. 

-

Marriage has always been a necessary insurance your family knew of. You grew up surrounded by mothers and wives telling you about security and eventualities alleviated by finding a man to marry. Usually, it will be someone from the Military Police, or a merchant. The more they tell their stories, the more their romance sounds like tragedy in your ears.  A tragedy that doesn't kill you but wears you away and diverts you from loneliness by having responsibilities. You're happy. You should be happy to be with a stable man, picked and approved by your parents. He will give you everything, money, and misery. Maybe you'll have enough time to learn how to love him when you don’t have to worry about money. 

However, all life has offered you so far is sadness and a growing human inside of you. It was too premature to stir yet its presence pervades your whole being, floating on the surface of your mind. The child belongs more to your fiancé’s than yours. After all, it was a product of trying to claim you, of him knowing that your heart belongs to someone else. He can do nothing about your heart so he planted something of his own inside you thus ensuring you'd stay. It hurts to think, it hurts to remember. You threw a shoal over your head and wished for any thought other than what you currently have. You just hoped that the brown of your child's eyes would be more like Hange's than its father's. 

-

You crossed over a green field overlooking a meadow littered with pink and oranges, sometimes, red flowers. The beauty of spring. The grass dancing around your ankles. It reminds you of the beautiful springs you spent here, something you need to leave behind too. 

Your footsteps grew light and slow as you reached Hange’s doorstep. Before you even knock, all you want to say is a thousand apologies for many things it'd take you ages to name. But the moment Hange saw you, there was no bitterness in their face but longing. They held you in a tight, wordless embrace. Their arms and hands spoke of how much they had longed to see you again. At that moment, you held them just as tight. You expected anger and bitterness from them. They've loved you for many years only for you to come one day at their doorstep pregnant and to be married to someone else. Their anger would have comforted you because that's what you think you deserve at every waking moment. And you felt more terrible knowing that they still care after all the pain you've caused them.

It wasn’t right.

"I'm sorry," you managed to say. No amount of apologies will take back all that hurt.

Hange didn't say a word and only pulled you inside where it was warmer. Your knees weakened, you wanted to kneel in front of them and apologize again. Your guilt was too overpowering that it didn't feel right for you to stand on the same level as they are. But as crippling as you felt, they still held you in their arms, you let them touch you the way they always used to. It felt selfish getting comforted by someone you hurt and yet you found yourself in their bed again. 

Your lips found theirs, your hands holding them like they'd slip away any second. A cry bubbled from your lips from how much hunger and yearning you felt for them the time you were apart. You wanted to erase all the traces of touch imprinted on your body that weren't from their hands. You longed for the time you were theirs and no one else's. How come it went to a time where only your love belongs to them? 

"You got here without trouble, right?" Hange asked as they pressed a kiss on your neck. You got what they meant and nodded. None of the people working for your fiancé followed or noticed you or so you hoped. 

"That's good," Hange tucked a stray hair from your face. The pain and longing shone through their eyes. "I miss you."

I'm sorry.

All you wanted was to apologize, the heavy burden in your heart remained knocking and present every time you looked at Hange. 

"I miss you too," you managed to say without crying. All the happiness that breathed life into your existence remained frozen in the past. It hurts to think that the traces of that life will vanish the moment you step out of their house. Why does your last happiness remain in a fleeting present? Gone in a blow of a wind? 

You cherished each touch, each kiss that made you shudder in the sheets. Only Hange loved you despite the way you want to crawl from your skin, to love even the parts of you you're too ashamed to acknowledge. 

Take me back. Take me back to what we used to be, you cried, your soul wailed. 

You held Hange close, blankets thrown over your bodies. You gazed around the room, capturing the place in your memory. Their rustic furniture, papers, and books were all over their desk, both your clothes were strewn on the floor, and a purple flower sat at their bedside table. You took Hange's glasses from beside the vase and gently wiped the lenses with the blanket. 

"You never clean your glasses," you said. 

"You always notice when they're dirty," Hange smiled. "And overclean them."

Hange noticed your smile, not loaded with grief for once. Just like the old times. 

"I wish I could always clean them for you," you muttered, checking both lenses again before putting it back near the vase. 

Hange chuckled, a smile crossing their lips as they paused. A contemplative, almost painful pause. Their momentary silence retrieved your attention. 

"Only if we can run away. Outside those walls and perhaps, beyond that. You can stare at flowers all day and I get to stare at you."

Their laugh sounded pained as if the happiness that should come with it got stuck in their throat. 

Hange shook their head.

"What am I even saying?" Their smile remained wistful. "You'd be a lot better back there. With a family, with kids. You told me once you want a kid. And a flower shop."

Their smile grew, remembering you tending to their garden. Or how they grew your favorite flowers but never admitted so. 

"You said you're opening a flower shop. How is it going?" Hange asked, the painful stirrings on their insides were masked by curiosity. 

You're finding an answer somewhere in your head. But the few words you found phased out of your mind the moment you look into their eyes. Their soft, warm brown eyes gazed at you with pure, pained love. You hid in their chest, trying to bottle the tears like you used to. But the heaves and sobs came and only grew louder the moment Hange held you to face them. 

"Y/N..." they muttered, wiping your tears the way they used to. They kissed you and rubbed your back to soothe you. That's all they can do despite their wishes to be more. They cannot stop time or slow it down nor they can shape both your circumstances. 

"I want to be with you," you sobbed. "I love you and your little experiments. I love picking flowers in a field on a Sunday morning while you read books or pick insects to show me." 

Your words gushed and spilled, the truth you wanted to deny yourself overcoming you. 

"I love it when we try to eat what's left of your burnt pancakes while overseeing your garden. I love the flowers you grow for me. I love the times we sneak out like teenagers so my parents won't see us," you sobbed uncontrollably, your tears spilling past your lips as you spoke. "I love waking up next to you in the morning. And when you come home safe to me after every expedition. I love that you still care for me even when we had fights, even when I complied with that marriage, even when I'll be married to someone else."

Hange listened, their hand gently stroking your hair. 

"And I hate that nothing good lasts forever because something at least should. You were my happiest infinity and yet I left you. What will I merit from a life of temporary comfort when my happiness resides with you?" 

Hange wanted to comfort you but didn't know the right words to appease the hurt housed deep inside you. You were still the same girl they loved, the girl who dreamed of a quiet life with them. 

"I'm sorry," you sobbed finally, uselessly wiping your tears. "I'm sorry you loved me."

"I don't regret that," Hange muttered with a kiss on your forehead. 

"But I do," you told them. "You’re better off with someone else.”

They sighed, enclosing you tighter in their arms. 

"I'm happy about what we had," they smiled. You can feel their voice right at your ear as you press your head against their chest. Something you've taken for granted for many years. "I know it feels miserable for us now. But it won't always be. That, at least, is comforting, isn't it? I'll be okay, knowing that you'll be happy eventually."

"I won't be," you cried. 

"Then come back to me when that time comes." Hange knew it was a bold thing to say. They can't visualize a place where you'd be happy together without someone or something trying to break it apart. But they had to try. If they can battle the uncertainty residing outside the walls of Eldia, maybe they can do the same for the relationship they hold dear. 

"I will," you answered. It was equally bold as their proclamation. You wonder if those promises will ever lose meaning. If coming back to your most beloved is even an option at all. Even temporarily, the hurt waned from your heart and was painted over by an irresolute hope. You pressed closer to their heart and said, "I'll see you again."

-

The sun filtered through the pink curtains, shining a warm hue against the sheets. You trimmed the flowers sitting by the window, the white petals complementing the purity of their surroundings along the floral patterns on the walls. You are in your new home. A place you should teach yourself how to love despite the affliction laced with every item. 

Your musings were cut short as you noticed a new paper on your desk. It was a fresh sheet folded in two, the embeddings faintly showing through the back. You didn’t need to open it to know who it came from. As you sit down to open the letter, you realize that the floral patterns on your walls are pink lilies of the valley. 

likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated, sweethearts <3

[krurbbbylift]

(WORK IN PROGRESS, PLS DM IF YOU WANT TO ADD STUFF!)

MASTER LIST OF STORES AND EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW!!!

2024 vers

Adidas:

Aeropostale: Basically broke, barely any cameras and employees tend to not care and not count items for dressing rooms which are usually open and don't have to be asked for. I have almost never seen anything tagged. jewelry and perfumes are right by checkout so not recommended for that.

Abercrombie & Fitch: 

American Eagle: 

Armani: 

Banana Republic: 

Barnes & Noble: Uses Rfid tags and sometimes spider wraps on kpop albums and anime figures if there’s frequent theft in area. Cameras are not actively monitored, but are checked after theft. Store managers are the only ones who have the authority to call the police. They won’t chase. Pretty easy to lift from. 

Bath & Body Works: Intermediate 

More than a few employees and a small but busy store, small items are right by the cashiers, employees will immediately talk to you and offer a basket but will usually leave you alone after first entering unless engaged in conversation. mall locations usually no/minimal cameras and no/obvious tagging.

No LP, and cameras aren't actively monitored. The stores are small and have many employees mostly concentrated at the counters except for a greeter who helps customers with questions. They don't prosecute, but they call mall security and will let them determine if police will be called. This is a store only good for small lifts, and then leaving quickly.

Bed, Bath, and Beyond: Out of business.

Best Buy: There is security in the front. They will tackle. Very hard to lift from.

Bloomingdales: 

Books-a-million: 

Burlington Coat Factory: 

Carson’s: 

Chanel: 

COACH: 

Costco: Wouldn’t recommend. Unless you have a gift card, they will use your membership info to find out more about you.

CVS:  Uses RFID tags on some products (some medicines and some makeup) but that varies on the location. Some at locations the security towers don’t go off (don’t risk it). Semi-Easy

 They have no chase policy and workers aren’t allowed to do anything. They can’t stop you, or ask to check your bag unless it’s LP. Cameras are usually non actively monitored. LP rotates regionally, usually working two, 8-hour shifts per week at specific stores.

Dick’s Sporting Goods: Not recommended for beginners. Conceal in dressing room or in tall aisles. Check for stickers/tags and dispose of accordingly. RFID Tags on clothes can set off alarms.

Dillard’s: Hard store. Dedicated LP.

Dollar General: Super easy, conceal in aisles. some stores are going out of business, take advantage of areas without cameras.

Dollar Tree: Beginner Friendly Store 

Oftentimes, the cameras are fake. Few employees are usually in the store. DT doesn't want to waste money on security or LP because their products are cheap. 

Family Dollar: Uses rfid tags on electronics, some hair and body products. 

At most they will have four employees in the store, but they usually only have one or two. Extremely easy as long as you watch over your shoulders. At some locations the workers are required to tell you to leave your book bag at the front. If you're a school student—but they usually don’t care enough to say it or enforce the rule.

Semi-Easy

Five and Below: Minimal employees, cameras spread out and usually shown on tvs around the store to deter, minimal to no tagging and sometimes even no sensors at the door. usually one employee at the front that can see a tv with camera footage displayed but usually distracted or busy and not watching cameras.

Finish Line/Footlocker: 

Flying Tiger: Medium

No LP, but small with a lot of cameras. Went to one in a mall

Food Lion: 

Gamestop: Intermediate with how small the stores are. I've only lifted once from there and it was a small pack of Pokémon cards, and I did so by concealing it in my sleeve behind a display case. gamestop is good for small and quick lifts— then never going back for a few months or weeks.

GAP: 

GNC: 

Gucci: Too hard. Best bet is a grab and run. I've legitimately witnessed lifters being tackled by security/LP. it's CRAZY tbh

H&M: 

Hobby Lobby: So easy. The aisles are very tall and usually the only cameras are near the front by the registers. Body concealing is recommended.

Hollister: There are cameras. Hook is required to detag. Fairly easy so long as you are not counted for clothes. Security is seldom called, so just be sneaky and don’t get sloppy.

Home Depot: 

Hot Topic: Use Pencil Tags and Ink tags. Sometimes there’s a camera up front near the desk but usually there’s no camera. Depends on the value, store location, and what the item is.

Hot topic is/was a good place to lift from, but they've begun tagging their shit to hell and back. its best to, if ur ht has it, take off tags in between the shirt racks (clearance, the ones that hang)

Jo-Ann Fabrics: Just as easy as Hobby Lobby, but there is a camera at the beginning of the entrance. Conceal in blind spots near the back of the store. Watch out for customers.

JC Penny: 

King Super’s: 

K-Mart: 

Kohl’s: 

Kroger: 

Lord and Taylor: 

Lowes: 

Lush: On busy days they tend to position their employees in areas of the store where they will just scan the area and look for anyone who's lifting. I suggest building a good reputation with the employees by acting like a good, possible customer so they'll pay no mind to you. I do believe that some lush stores have cameras but a lot don't, and not many security measures are in place.

Macy’s: 

Martin’s (closing): 

Meijers: 

Mervyns: 

Michael’s: Conceal in blind spots, quite easy as long as you avoid cameras. I wouldn’t recommend going super often as most stores exits are located by the registers and you have to walk past a cashier to leave. 

Michael Kor’s: 

Nike: Stickers on apparel tags. Take clothing and conceal in fitting room. For shoes, use structured bag and conceal where there aren’t any cameras. Check shoes for any stickers or tags beforehand. 

Nordstrom: If you are a teen, SA will be on your ass. Not only are they paid on commission, they make extra for catching shoplifters.

Office Depot/Max: Barely any cameras except near the front. Don’t try and get printer ink. School supplies are easy, just body conceal in aisles. Watch out for workers.

Old Navy: 

Pet-Co: 

PetSmart: 

Rite Aid: 

Ross: High LP, lots of cameras, and almost everything is tagged because of l1fting problems

Safeway: 

Sam’s Club: 

Sears: 

Sephora: Crouch down to conceal, and don’t go around in circles too much. If you have a blind spot, gather everything you want, conceal, and discreetly leave. Walk around the check out area so you look like you’re considering purchasing items.

Sheetz: 

Spencer’s: Uses sticker sensors on their jewelry; I'm unsure of what they put on clothing

Spirit Halloween: At my spirit halloween (all stores could be different) the monitor they have only showed 4 cameras at a time there were a lot of blind spots I hid behind a shelf and concealed a lot.  There was one employee walking around one at the front greeting guests and one at the register where the camera monitor was at.

Staples: Same as Office Depot.

Stop & Shop: 

Sunglass Hut: Easier to bring an old pair of sunglasses and switch them. Check tags, and don’t go if it’s not busy. LP situation is unknown but it’s good to practice sleight of hand.

Target: Uses RFID and hard tags. Notoriously hard to lift from, build’s cases, and employees and security are allowed to chase.

Things Remembered:

Toys R Us: 

Tuesday Morning: 

Ulta: Easier than Sephora. Conceal in haircare or while crouching. They cannot chase. Watch out for customers and don’t linger around too much in blind spots.

Vans: 

Virginia Diner Shoppe:

Walmart: Lots of cameras especially in high l1fting areas and usually a lot of employees. sometimes employ plain clothes LP and door greeters can ask to see receipts but not in your bag. lots of blind spots from cameras in home goods like trash cans and pet aisles. can put it in a bag and check for tags in bathrooms before exiting. jewelry is tagged (from experience). possibly shares database with target and handles l1fters like target. imo easier than target though.

Walgreens:

Wawa:

Wegman’s:

Zumiez: 

7-Eleven: Easy to lift food and candy. Don’t exactly know if they have tags but if you body conceal.

[ginevrapng]

𝐖𝐄'𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆!

(𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄)

pairing: george weasley x reader, ron weasley x reader

word count: 3.0k words

contents: swearing, a couple suggestive comments, reader wears a bikini at one point, chubby-coded reader, drinking, percy (he deserves a warning), reader not specified what hogwarts house they were in, no use of y/n, british idioms, phrases and slang words

a/n: this was originally a one-shot about george but as i kept writing i decided i wanted it to be a short series that also included ron and the possibility that the reader may up with him. this isn't a love triangle fic! there is no triangle!

summary: you're an honorary member of the weasley family and have been for years, you're one of ron's best friends and are very close. everyone thinks and teases you both that you're dating or have feelings for each other. this muddles up things as george feels guilty about his own feelings.

<< part two | masterlist (check out my poll for this chapter)

you became an honorary member of the weasley family when you were in your third year at hogwarts, after meeting ron and afterwards meeting his family. now you probably spend more time with the weasley's than you do your own family. when you attended hogwarts you spent the summer holidays with them. it's been years and you've formed a bond with all of them, you care about them and they care about you. little did you know george cares about you in a different way than the others do.

ginny and fred often tease you and ron asking about when your wedding will be, while you flip them off and ron tells them to "bloody fuck off." whenever you see bill he asks if ron has finally had the balls to ask you out and sometimes you even worry that molly may be planning the wedding, no matter how many times you both insist there is nothing going on between you two the weasley clan make it their goal to not listen.

"i don't know why you all bang on about us. i fancied hermione for years. we're not dating, she's not my girlfriend!" ron shouts while throwing something at fred as he easily doges it.

looking up from reading the new muggle book hermione let you borrow you say with a fake teasing scowl, "who's 'she', the cat's mother?" ron glares at you in warning to tell you to shut up causing you to laugh.

george plops himself next to you on the sofa and looks at the book you're reading. "why're you readin' in the middle of the day? you normally read at night." he asks while looking over to you, blocking your vision of the page with his head.

pushing his head away with one hand he grins. "because hermione's lending it to me. that means i only have like a week to finish it before she wants it back."

"hey!" hermione shoots you a look, causing you and george to chuckle.

the person who believes you and ron the least is george, he knows you're not a liar, you would never lie but he worries that ron wants to keep you secret and not treasure you the way you deserve to be treated. he worries that your feelings towards his younger brother are unrequited and he'll end up breaking your heart. he would never voice these feelings out loud but you're always on his mind. he does feel guilty because he knows that you likely are dating ron but that doesn't stop his heart skipping a beat every time you smile at him or his stomach fluttering with butterflies anytime you brush up against each other.

he tries his hardest not to stare at you but it's hard, especially when you decide to sit opposite him at the dinner table, it's torture. he steals glances at you when he thinks no one is looking, your cute chubby cheeks pressed against the palm of your hand while your elbow is resting on the table and you're looking entirely unimpressed with what percy said. sticking your tongue out at fred from across the table whenever he teases you for liking 'really weird food' and how you don't like 'normal' food. sneakily threatening ron when you think molly isn't looking, pretending to stab him in the eye with your fork.

the whole time he thought that no one notices how he feels about you, he should know better by now with fred around. you've seen how george looks at you too, when you want to admire him secretly but you find that he's already looking at you, causing you to quickly look away but you figure george would never look at you in any other way than his brothers annoying friend or like a younger annoying adopted sister, no matter how much you wished he'd see you as more.

sometimes you think you have a chance with him but those cases are rare and they're gone as quickly as they come.

one summer you all went down to the seaside, wanting to spend some time at the beach, while you all complained about how hot it was in the car and annoyed because not all of you could apparate yet, so you had to be boiled alive in the car. when you finally got to the beach you all changed as soon as possible, wanting to get cooler and strip off the extra layers you were all wearing.

normally you would have had some insecurity about wearing a bikini but in those recent years you'd became more comfortable in your body and you knew that none of the weasley's would judge you. and after you, ginny and hermione went shopping the week before to buy swimming costumes you were more than content with your recent purchase and happy to wear it. your costume was fairly simple, it was really cute. your stretch marks and soft stomach visible while wearing the bikini, you thought you looked rather pretty though.

you glanced up after getting changed to see harry gawking at ginny, you went up next to him and flicked his nose. "eyes up front solider." harry blushed and turned away from you both making you giggle.

you feel eyes on you and think it's likely one of the girls but looked to see george as he was marvelling you and for a second you swear he was looking up and down your body, focusing on your plush thighs. your body bursts out your chest but you worry that he isn't looking at you with fondness and instead the opposite, thinking you don't look good, that is until you saw his eyes and his dilated pupils and mouth slightly agape. if you were braver you would of said something similar to what you said to harry but alas you're not so you settle on. "georgie, are you okay?"

he snaps out of whatever he was thinking about and grins at you. "'course i am, shortcake." you have a craving for shortcake once and eat only shortcake for a 5 days and you are forever condemned to the nickname forever. at least it's better than ronniekins or weatherby you suppose. george walked up to you and for a second you thought he might just pull you closer to him and hug you, instead, it felt like a bucket of ice cold water was dumped on you as he ruffles you hair and goes to get a drink from the cooler. hopes crushed.

"you look nice," ron tells you picking up a couple drinks, going to hand one to you.

"gee, thanks ronald. i might just fall in love." you roll your eyes playfully. he presses the ice cold drink against your arm causing you to yelp. he runs off before you can do the same while you swear at him.

george watches the interaction and his heart hurts, he wants to joke like that with you, he wants you to tell him you love him. he looks away and tries to clear his head. he doesn't want you to think he isn't okay.

another time while you both were still attending hogwarts george asked you if you were going to hogsmeade that weekend and you declined saying you had to study. " 'shame, i'll miss you." you spent the whole week thinking about that. he will miss you, not we will. the day everyone goes to hogsmeade you can't concentrate in the library, you try to but you can't, you had a huge essay due the following day and you'd barely begun it. instead you're rethinking what george said over and over again. you decided to pack up your things early after only an hour of studying and head to hogsmeade to meet everyone.

you were unsure of where everyone would be so you search around to see if you can spot anyone. you spotted george in the three broomsticks opposite a girl you've never seen before. you were about to walk in to talk to them until you saw them holding hands as george places a kiss on her knuckle. you froze, i guess he didn't miss me that much. you turn back around and walk straight back into the castle hoping no one sees you, luckily they didn't and they're none the wiser as you pretend you've been studying all day and george never mentioned the girl. fake smile plastered on your face as you hear them talk about their day. hopes crushed.

this pattern has been going on for years now where you think maybe he might look at you the way you look at him, every time he proves you wrong. when you get too in your head you think about how attractive he is compared to you, how you could get lost in his deep chestnut eyes and his chiselled jaw. how you want to run your hand through his pretty red flaming hair and kiss the freckles on his broad shoulders that he has from playing years of quidditch. god you want to kiss him so bad.

now though you're getting ready for the night, there was a vote and the majority dictated a muggle club, so you're all getting ready and tonight you're going all out.

"you look beautiful." you hear ron say as you walk down the stairs with harry nodding in agreement getting an amused smirk from you. ron smiles at you and you get reminded about how sweet he truly is and about how much he's grown in the last few years, especially when you think back at the disaster of the yule ball when he was still hung up on hermione and treating padma patil like shit. maybe in another life you and ron would of been together.

"aw, thanks ronald. be careful though, i might think you do actually want to date me," you tease.

"piss off." he mumbles and you swear you see a light blush causing you to chuckle. you hook your arm around his and wait for the stragglers (i.e hermione who is still doing her hair.)

when you walked down those stairs george forgot how to breath. you looked absolutely stunning with your dress accentuating your curves, clinging to your body in all the right ways and your hair framing your face. george couldn't look away you. wide hips he wanted to grab and hold on to and thick thighs that he wanted to feel wrapped around him. your pretty eyes gazing at ron, pissing him off. george's mood switched up quickly after that, body tense and jaw clenched as he sees you chuckle at whatever ron stupidly said. his eyes hardened stare when he watches you hold onto his arm.

the whole night he doesn't take his eyes off you as you dance and drink and sing along to the muggle songs you recognise. everyone notices, you notice, ginny notices, hermione notices, even oblivious ron and harry notice it. george gets teased most of the night about it, especially by fred, who whenever comes over to get another drink after dancing with a group of girls calls him "loverboy" and an "idiot, jealous, fool."

he knows that you must know that he's watching you no matter how many drinks you've had you must be able to tell, and you do but you assume it's something like last time and you don't want him to do something like ruffle up your hair again, especially when you've spent so long doing it. you don't want to ask him and realise that he's judging your outfit or that he doesn't think you're pretty enough to stand and dance with the rest of you. you don't want to know what he's thinking this time. your hopes on his feelings towards you were crushed long ago after multiple events so you do you best to ignore him, knowing that eventually some gorgeous girl will get his attention, little do you know that you already have that.

so you dance the night away, ron spinning you in his arms while he complains that if you keep drinking at this rate he'll have to carry you home.

ron moves your hair to the side over on one shoulder so you can hear him better as he talks into your ear and pressing your soft frame against his. "s' you gonna tell me why george is looking at you like." he spins you around again.

"honestly, ' no idea. tryin' not to think about it. just want to dance with you."

"i can definitely do that." he grins as you carry on dancing and swaying together.

george didn't think he get more angry, that was until he saw ron brush your hair away from you and whisper in your ear. he thinks you're both incredibly too close together, he knows he has no right to be angry. he thinks there is something going on between you two but that doesn't mean it doesn't boil his blood to see you two all over each other.

"gonna go get us more drinks 'kay? you want the same?" ron gently takes his hands of your waist and asks you.

"yes please ronnie." you reply, slightly stumbling without ron behind you to balance you.

ron watching this, smirks. "i'll be right back. don't fall over 'right. after this one you'll be drinking water." you stick your tongue out in response causing ron's smirk to widen.

george watches ron make his way to the bar and he considers going up to talk to you, to compliment you, to spend time with you while everyone else is busy, you've barely spoken together all day. the decision is made for him and stopped as harry comes up to talk to him and he sees ginny and hermione make their way over towards you.

when he looks over to see you again you're dancing with the girls and singing to a song he's never heard of before, he wonders if ron's heard it, if you've showed it to him before. if you like it so much you're singing it at the top of your lungs, you must really like it, probably enough to show ron. george isn't listening to a word harry is saying but he can't stop the grin that appears on his face, watching you jump and dance and sing. 'if you wanna be my lover. you gotta get with my friends.' his grin disappear as he see's ron behind you with two drinks in hand finishing of the lyric with you, "make it last forever. friendship never ends." you wrap your arms around his neck after spotting him, slightly spilling both of the drinks and take your one.

the night ends a couple of hours later, you slightly sobered up, tipsy instead of drunk, with ron sticking to his guns and only letting you have water. near the end of the night you end up leaving the dance floor exhausted from the dancing and pulling ron with you knowing that the only reason he was still on the dance floor was because he didn't want to leave you on your own while you were drunk in case anything happened to you. leaning on his shoulder and softly singing the songs you know you cuddle up to him. he pulls you both back on the booth so you're comfier and wraps his arm around your waist.

you both sit in comfortable silence as you watch everyone, at the same time spotting harry trying to hopelessly flirt with a girl that looks like a carbon copy of ginny causing you to laugh. "i had no idea ginny had a twin." you joked making ron burst out laughing. you pull on his shirt to get his attention, "love you ron." kissing your forehead he tells you he loves you too.

weirdly enough harry ended up the drunkest out of all of you, normally the drunkest title gets handed to you or ginny. tonight the title was handed to harry with george and ron staying the most sober.

trying to stumble into the burrow as quietly as possible was a harder feat than you thought, fred chuckling at your attempt to try not to trip over anything. "fuck off." you tell him, louder than you probably should have but lacking volume control due to the alcohol.

you make your way up the stairs with the help from ron and begin to walk into ron's room. "what'cha doing? you stay in ginny's room remember." he stops you from moving any further.

"but i want cuddles ronnie!" you whine in your drunken state. harry hearing this laughs uncontrollably at the scene of you trying to slip out of ron's hold to get into his room.

"shut up harry." ron hisses trying to deal with his two of his drunk best friends. "bed. now. we'll cuddle tomorrow."

"promise." you hold out your pinky finger for him to take.

he takes your finger, "promise. get some sleep."

"mm, 'kay. night harry!" you quietly call behind ron say in a sing song voice before ron shushes you. "night ronald." both harry and ron wishes you goodnight and you turn to tiptoe into ginny's room.

that's when you see george still on the stairs, watching you. for the first time tonight you've looked at him and he realises that absolutely anything could happen yet if you'd look at him like you are now then everything would be okay. george clears his throat and goes to say goodnight. to say how beautiful you looked tonight. how he missed speaking to you all night. "night george. sleep well." you walk past him and kiss his cheek, he audibly gasped but you were too tired and tipsy to notice. you go into ginny's room and leave george standing on the stairs, taking in how soft your lips felt against him and how he could still smell the drink you always get. george holds his hand against where you kissed him and beams before entering his room.

[goldfades]

✮ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 | zegras' have more fun [evangeline's 1k celly]

♡ ─ word count | 3k words

♡ ─ summary | the summer before umich, trevor and stass spend it with their closest friends, the hughes.

♡ ─ warnings | UNEDITED!!!!! drinking, kissing (but nothing more) luke x stassie and LOTS of jack/luke pining over her, fluff, angst

♡ ─ taglist | @43hughes, here is the taglist form if anyone is interested!

♡ ─ ev's notes | OOOO, this is so much drama. i also hate pitting jack/luke lowkey against each other but its kinda entertaining LMAO. lmk your thoughts!!!!! and don't be shy, if you have any ideas for this AU please send them in!!!

zegras' have more fun au masterlist !!

June 28, 2022

It was the summer before college and Stass laid on the Hughes' yacht, tanning out in the sun. As soon as school was out, Luke had invited her and her family out to the lake house, something they had done every year since Trevor had befriended Quinn and Jack Hughes. Ava decided not to go this year because her friends had planned a trip up to Rhode Island for a summer trip and Griffin had work, so it was just Trevor and Stass.

"Want a beer?" Trevor's voice echoed across the deck as he stood near the cooler, shielding his eyes from the sun to look at Stass.

Stass, still adjusting her sunglasses, flashed a sun-kissed smile and replied, "Sure, pass me one."

"That was a test and you failed." Trevor shook his head as Stass glared at him. "If anyone offers you a beer you say no because you're staying sober, right?"

"Trevor, just shut up and hand me a beer." Stass rolled her eyes at her older brother. "It's not like I haven't one before, you force fed me one when I was like, 9-"

"That's a lie, Griffin did that. I tried stopping him but he was stronger." Trevor replied in a matter-of-factly tone.

Stass laughed, remembering the exaggerated stories her brother used to tell. "Whatever, it doesn't matter now. I'm legal, and I can handle a beer or two."

Trevor grinned, finally passing her a cold bottle. "Legal, responsible, and ready for college. Look at you, all grown up."

She nodded, pulling her sunglasses back down. The lake sparkled around them, and the distant laughter of friends echoed from the shore.

"You know," Trevor began, taking a sip of his beer, "I'm glad we could still make it out here, just the two of us."

Stass nodded, taking a sip of her own drink. "Yeah, it's nice. Quiet."

Trevor glanced at her, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You're quiet. That's unusual."

Stass rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, ha-ha. I can be quiet sometimes."

They fell into an easy silence, the only sounds the lapping of the waves against the hull of the yacht and the occasional call of a seagull overhead. Stass closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the sun seep into her skin.

"You excited about college?" Trevor asked after a while, breaking the silence.

Stass opened one eye to look at him. "Yeah, nervous too, though. It's a big change."

Trevor nodded in understanding. "Yeah, but you'll do great. You always do."

Stass smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest at his words. "Thanks, Trev. That means a lot."

"You know, I'm proud of ya, right?" Trevor added, quietly as he laid back in the chair.

"Aww, Trev, you gettin' all sappy on me now?" Stass teased, nudging him playfully with her elbow.

Trevor chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Maybe just a little."

Trevor chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe just a little. But seriously, Stassie, you've always been there for me, through thick and thin. I couldn't ask for a better sister."

Stass felt a lump form in her throat at his words. She reached out and squeezed his hand, the bond between them stronger than ever in that moment. "I'm proud of you too, you know," Stass said, her tone sincere. "You're out there in California playing hockey, like you always wanted."

"Thank you, Stassie." Trevor smiled back at her and a calm silence fell in between them again.

They shared a smile, in that quiet moment, as the sun dipped lower in the sky and the world seemed to slow down around them, Stass realized just how lucky she was to have Trevor by her side.

"Alright, enough of the sentimental stuff," Stass declared, breaking the moment with a grin. "Race you to the diving board?"

"Oh fuck yeah. I'm winning."

──

"Who left all those beer cans on the deck?" Quinn asked as he glared directly at Trevor, annoyance in his expression.

"It was Y/N." Trevor said plainly as Stass rolled her eyes, laying back further on the couch as she watched the TV.

"Fucking liar! Y/N doesn't drink beer and you know it." Quinn crossed his arms, clearly not buying Trevor's attempt to shift the blame.

Trevor chuckled, feigning innocence. "Well, maybe she wanted to try something new today. You know, living on the wild side before college."

Quinn shot a skeptical look at Stass, who raised an eyebrow in response. "Don't look at me, I was just trying to get a tan before I go home. Trevor's just trying to weasel his way out of this one."

"Fine, whatever. I did it."

"We let you borrow our fucking yacht and you trash it, Trevor. Go clean it up." Quinn ordered, his tone firm as he gestured outside.

"Now? It's almost 10, dude, I'll do it in the morning-"

"Trevor, just go do it." Stass rolled her eyes as she kept her attention on the TV, not paying attention to Quinn and Trevor fighting.

Quinn crossed his arms, his patience wearing thin. "Now, Trevor. I don't care if it's dark or if you'd rather be doing something else. You make a mess, you clean it up."

Trevor sighed dramatically, shooting a glare at Stass before heading out to tidy up the deck.

Stass couldn't help but chuckle at the scene unfolding before her. "You know, you really should have thought twice before trashing the yacht, Trevor."

Trevor shot her a mock glare. "Thanks for the sympathy, Stass."

Stass shrugged as she watched Trevor walk out the door and she looked at Quinn with amusement. "What a drama queen."

"Right." Quinn sighed in annoyance and threw himself on the couch next to Stass. "You excited for Michigan? You'll be with Lukey now, like you guys always wanted."

"Yeah but I'm kinda nervous." Stass shrugged as she turned her attention Quinn. "Everyone over there looks intimidating, you know? Like what if my roommate hates me or I can't make any friends or something."

Quinn gave her a reassuring smile. "Stass, you're going to do great. You're smart, funny, and easy to get along with. Not a lot of people can say that and plus, you've got that charm that wins people over. You'll be the life of the party in no time."

Stass chuckled, nudging Quinn playfully. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Hughes."

Quinn rolled his eyes, but his smile remained. "But seriously, don't worry too much. College is just a new chapter, and you'll adapt like you always do. Besides, you'll have Luke there, and I'm sure you'll make friends in no time."

"Yeah, you're right," Stass admitted, feeling a bit more at ease. "I guess I just need to embrace the change, right? No parents or anything telling me what to do."

"Right, but don't do anything stupid." Quinn added with a raised eyebrow, a hint of a protective older brother tone in his voice. Even though you'd known him a short span of time, he's grown up with you and Trevor so he was like family.

Stass laughed, recognizing the concern. "Don't worry, Quinn, I won't go too crazy. I'll save the wild shit for Trevor."

Quinn smirked. "Good call. Trevor's got that covered."

Before Stass could respond, she heard footsteps and talking behind her. Jack and Luke joined them in the living room as they settled onto the couch.

Jack flashed a grin at Stass as he flopped on the other side of Stass. "What's all this talk about going wild, huh?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna get fucked up every single night and it's gonna be so fun." Stass exaggerated as she spoke, earning a scoff from Quinn and a few laughs from Luke and Jack.

Quinn shook his head in mock disapproval. "Oh great, just what I need, another Zegras causing trouble."

Stass grinned mischievously, enjoying the banter with her friends. "Hey, blame Trevor for starting all this craziness. You know me, I have one up Trev."

Luke chuckled, leaning back comfortably. "Take it easy, Stass. College isn't just about partying, you know."

"Oh shut the fuck up, I see your snapchat story. You're always at a part-"

Stass's words were interrupted by a burst of laughter from Luke, who raised his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, okay, guilty as charged. But you know me, I work hard and play hard."

Jack joined in with a chuckle, nodding in agreement as Stass rolled her eyes. "Yeah, let's not pretend like we're all saints here."

Quinn shook his head, a fond exasperation evident in his expression. "Alright, alright, let's not get carried away. We all know Trevor is the most insane one."

They all hummed in agreement. As the laughter subsided, Luke glanced at Stass with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Hey, speaking of playing hard, how about you and I go get some food? There's a 24-hour diner just a few blocks away."

Stass' eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect. "Oh, hell yeah. I could totally go for some pancakes right now."

Jack and Luke exchanged glances before Luke got up from the couch. "Okay, I'll drive."

"Don't stay out too late, guys." Quinn warned with a playful yet genuine tone, a hint of concern in his voice. The late hour didn't seem to scare Stass and Luke, who were already on their way to the door.

"Don't worry, I know if anything happened to Stass, Trev'll kill me." Luke assured him as they headed towards the door.

Jack leaned back on the couch, watching them go with a conflicted expression. "Bring me back some fries if they have any, okay?"

Stass chuckled over her shoulder. "Of course, Jack."

They walked out of the house and went to Luke's car, getting in quickly. Luke turned on the car and backed out of the garage, soon driving to the diner.

"So, pancakes, huh?" Luke grinned as he drove on the empty road.

Stass laughed, nodding enthusiastically. "Pancakes, waffles, maybe even some milkshakes if they have them, I'm just hungry."

As they cruised down the quiet streets, the neon sign of the 24-hour diner came into view, casting a warm glow against the night. Luke parked the car, and they stepped into the warmth of the diner.

The scent of comfort food filled the air as they settled into a booth, menus in hand. Stass scanned the options, her eyes lighting up at the array of breakfast foods.

"So, you excited for Michigan?" Luke put down the menu to look at Stass, a smile playing on his lips.

"Very. Excited to meet your friends 'cus you can't stop talking about them, they seem fun." Stass replied, returning Luke's smile with enthusiasm. She set her menu aside, her excitement evident in her eyes.

"They're definitely interesting." He laughed as he laid back into the booth. "Hey, I missed you." Luke spoke quietly as Stass stared back, trying to decipher his expression.

"I missed you too, Luke." She smiled back nervously. There was a new type of tension in the air as she gazed back at him. "So..."

Luke's expression softened, his gaze gentle as he reached across the table to touch her hand. "I just wanted to say it, you know? Before everything changes."

"Nothing's gonna change, Luke. We're still gonna be friends and it'll be fun, if anything." Stass returned the smile but she couldn't help but notice Luke's expression change.

"Yeah, friends."

She's been friends with Luke, Jack and Quinn for three years now and they've all grown to have a special place in her heart. But as she glanced at Luke, she couldn't shake the sense of unease that lingered in the air, the unspoken tension between them tugging at her heartstrings. Despite her reassurances, she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted.

──

Luke let out a laugh as his head fell back on the lawn chair, a beer bottle in his hand. They were on the lake and they were drinking, all while Trevor, Jack and Quinn were inside making some food. As they relaxed on the lakeshore, the worries of the world faded into the background, replaced by the simple joy of being together.

She could feel the alcohol stir in her stomach as she spoke. "Hey, Luke. Wanna go for a swim?"

"Now?" Luke replied as he stared back, her expression serious. It was late at night but it was still warm. "Fuck it, why not?"

Stass laughed and stood up from the chair, taking off her shirt, leaving her just in her bikini. Luke swallowed as he stood up, watching her. Luke's gaze lingered on Stass, a flicker of something unreadable dancing in his eyes as she stood before him in her bikini. He felt a rush of warmth spread through him, the alcohol adding to the haze of the summer night.

Stass turned around with a smirk, and Luke's heart skipped a beat. "Ready?"

"Born ready," he replied, matching her smirk.

With a shared laugh and a moment of anticipation, they plunged into the lake, the cool water enveloping them in a refreshing embrace. As they swam beneath the starlit sky, the worries of the world melted away, replaced by the exhilaration of the moment. With each stroke, they felt the weight of the world lift from their shoulders, leaving nothing but the freedom of the open water.

"It's nice in the water." Luke spoke as he swam near her, keeping afloat.

Stass nodded in agreement, the water glistening in the moonlight as she swam beside him. "Yeah, it's so peaceful out here." She let out a giggle as her head fell back.

"How many beers have you had?" Luke asked, a laugh escaping his mouth as he watched her.

Stass grinned, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Hmm, I lost count after the third one. But who's counting anyway?"

Luke chuckled, the sound blending with the gentle lapping of the water against their bodies. "Well, as long as you can still swim straight," he teased, his tone light and teasing.

Stass rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, a grin playing at the corners of her lips. "Please, I'm practically a mermaid at this point," she retorted, her laughter echoing.

They swam lazily, the water embracing them in its cool quiet. The night air carried their laughter as they floated, creating ripples on the lake's surface.

Luke laughed, his gaze lingering on Stass as she floated effortlessly in the water. "A tipsy mermaid, maybe."

Stass splashed water playfully in Luke's direction, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Hey, watch it, or I might just drag you down with me."

"I'd like to see you try-"

Before he could even finish his sentence, Stass jumped on Luke sent them both splashing into the water with a loud splash. Luke sputtered as water engulfed him, his laughter mingling with Stass's drunken giggles.

They resurfaced, shaking the water from their hair and faces, their laughter echoing across the tranquil surface of the lake. They both rose up, laughing loudly. Stass' arms were wrapped around Luke's shoulders as they laughed. As they caught their breaths, silence took over as they stared back at each other. A silence took over within them as they gazed at one another, noticing how close they were with one another.

In that moment, the air crackled with a tension that neither Stass nor Luke could ignore. The laughter faded into the background, replaced by the sound of their breathing and the gentle lapping of the water against their bodies.

Stass felt her heart pound in her chest, the weight of Luke's gaze stirring something deep within her. Luke's expression softened, his gaze tracing the curve of Stass's face with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. In that suspended moment, time seemed to stand still, leaving only the two of them in a world of their own.

Without a word, Luke reached out, his hand brushing against Stass's cheek with a feather-light touch. His touch sent a jolt of warmth coursing through her, igniting a fire that burned bright within her soul. Stass' breath caught in her throat as she leaned closer, her heart racing with anticipation.

Luke slowly leaned in, Stass' eyes closing as their lips met in a soft kiss. They both stayed like that for a few moments before the kiss slowly became more passionate, Luke's hands gripped her hips as they kissed.

And on the shore, Jack watched, a conflicted expression on his face as he watched his best friend's sister and his brother make out in the lake. He couldn't help but feel jealous as he witnessed the scene unfolding before him. His gaze lingered on Stass and Luke, their silhouettes illuminated by the moonlight as they kissed in the water. Jack couldn't tear his eyes away, his heart heavy with the weight of realization.

A mixture of surprise, confusion, and a twinge of envy danced across Jack's features. He had known Stass for years, and Luke was not only his brother but also one of his best friend. For so long, he had watched Stass and Luke's friendship blossom, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. He had always admired the easy bond between them, the way they laughed and confided in each other without any worry. But as he watched them now, locked in an embrace that spoke of something deeper, Jack couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy gnawing at his heart.

He had never imagined that their relationship would evolve into something more, something that threatened to change the dynamics of their friendship forever. A part of him wanted to look away, to pretend that he hadn't seen what he had seen. But another part of him couldn't tear his eyes away, couldn't ignore the undeniable truth that lay before him. Luke had gotten to Stassie before he could.

"Shit." Jack ripped his eyes away as he mumbled, turning back to the house.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[belles-non-wallpapering-content]

Meeting the family E.S x FEM! reader

Overture-You're worried about meeting Egon's parents, and he's really trying his best to comfort you about it.

CWs- Brief mention of non-sexual changing in front of someone, Egon doesn't really know what to say to make things better, reader wears dresses, and is kind of implied sunshine reader.

A/N-This is day 8 (Don't look at the calendar, look at me) of my October Writing thing. If you'd like to read the other things on here-- October Masterlist has anything, and I'll update it as I go.

“Do you think they’ll like me?”

Tonight you were finally meeting Egon’s parents and you were freaking out just a little bit. You had every outfit that would even remotely work spread around your room while you tried to decide on what to wear tonight, while Egon sat at the foot of your bed, letting you try on as many outfits as you wanted, telling you how nice you looked in every single one. 

“I don’t know how to answer that question. Would you like me to be honest or supportive?” Egon struggled to know what to say sometimes, but that was anything but reassuring. 

“That just might be the worst thing you could’ve possibly said.” You buried your head in his chest, legs now on either side of his lap. 

“I like you. Does that count for something?” That got your face out of his chest, but he was still missing the smile you usually had when you were together. 

“Well I should hope you like me. But I want your parents to like me too, and I don’t know how to make that happen.” He couldn’t stand to see the pout on your face, you really were worried about tonight. 

“I’m sure tonight will go perfectly fine, and no matter what my parents decide, I love you, and nothing is going to change that.”

“Ok, but honestly, do you think they’ll like me?” You put your arms around his neck, and Egon couldn’t look away from you. 

“You’re very– happy, and honestly I don’t know how my parents will respond to that. They don’t have a lot of experience with cheer.” He was trying to be reassuring while still respecting your wish for honesty, but your face fell again. 

“Oh yeah, I remember the slinky story. Do you think I should tone it down?” You wouldn’t mind toning it down for his family, you just needed to know. 

“No. I think you’re quite literally perfect, and I wouldn’t want you to be anyone other than yourself.” He was entirely serious, and even a little stern with you, making sure you knew he didn’t want you to change any aspect of yourself. Especially not to appease his family. 

“Can you help me pick an outfit then?” That he could do. You got off his lap and he stood up, looking around the room again, at the options laid out. He fought the urge to pick his favorite outfit of yours, a slightly short, dark red dress that you did like, but he wanted you to be entirely comfortable. 

“I like this one. It fits you very well, and it’s comfortable for you.” He chose your favorite dress, and you knew he only chose it because it was your favorite.

He just wanted you to continue being happy, and he was hopeful his parents would heed his warnings to be nothing but nice and supportive towards you. He spent twenty minutes on the phone with them that afternoon, stressing over and over again how there would be no place for critique this evening. But now he could only put his hands on your arms as he stood behind you in the mirror, kiss your shoulder, and try his best to calm you down before you got there.

[blooming-dahlia]

Hello Livi <33 May I request reader being housewife for Riddle? I would love to hear your thoughts about that. Thanks in advance!!

Sweet Marriage [Riddle Rosehearts]

╰ Every time you see someone from your high school on the street and talk to them, they can't believe who you ended up tying the knot with. In fact, even Ace and Deuce were shocked when they received an invitation to your wedding, even though they knew you two had been dating for so long.

╰ Ace was absolutely convinced that one day you would eventually break up with Riddle due to his specific nature, but being one of the best men at your wedding was definitely not something he could have expected.

╰ As for you, well, you still can't believe you're finally married to the man you love. One of your favorite things to do when Riddle is at work is looking at the photos from your wedding. The professional ones you keep in a photo album, while the others are in the gallery on your phone, most of them being the ones Cater took and sent to you later.

╰ No matter what other people say, you couldn't ask for a better husband than Riddle. During your NRC days, he was often insecure and worried that he might do something wrong and, worse, hurt you unintentionally. He had never been in a relationship before, so this was all new to him. But over time, with a little bit of your help, he was able to gain some confidence.

╰ After your wedding, Riddle became even more affectionate towards you. Even when he's at work, he can't help but call you whenever he has the chance, just to ask how you're doing and tell you how much he loves you. The best moment of the day is when Riddle comes home and you can finally throw yourself into his arms.

╰ Sometimes you get the feeling that Riddle is overworking himself a bit, but every time you try to look for a job, he assures you that everything is fine and that you don't need to do that, because the last thing he wants is for you to overwork yourself as well.

╰ Of course you do things like cooking and cleaning every day. At first you thought that Riddle might be angry with you if he found out that you missed a few spots while cleaning or didn't do anything at all on a particular day, but it quickly turned out that he could be more understanding than you would ever imagine. That's mostly because you're his wife, whom he loves dearly, and not some random troublemaker like Ace and Deuce.

╰ The house you live in once belonged to one of Riddle's relatives, but since they moved out a long time ago, they gladly decided to sell it to you. It's not a super exclusive and luxurious mansion or anything like that, it's rather a small and cozy house, just perfect for you two. You also have a garden that you always take care of.

╰ On weekends, you two always go shopping. You can't even count how many times you've asked Riddle not to spoil you with gifts he buys for you behind your back while you're shopping, but you can see he doesn't care. He strictly follows the belief that a wife must be spoiled a lot by her husband.

╰ There are moments when the two of you argue. It is not often, but your fights can be really intense sometimes. However, Riddle can quickly turn from angry to concerned and ashamed the second he sees you crying, no matter who started the fight. He just hates to see tears streaming down your face.

╰ The thing you definitely avoid the most are family meetings. While those with your parents are somewhat tolerable and quite enjoyable, those with your husband's are the exact opposite. You're thankful they don't happen often, since you are probably at the top of your mother-in-law's list of people she hates the most. Every meeting with Riddle's family so far has just been you trying to hold back your tears until you finally get home.

╰ When there is nothing to do while Riddle is at work, you often hang out with your friends. Most of the time, they like to tease you about being a married woman so soon. To be honest, you are surprised about it yourself. Who would have thought that Riddle Rosehearts would propose to his girlfriend right after she graduated from NRC?

╰ Riddle himself also keeps in touch with some people from your high school, the main ones of course being Ace, Deuce, Trey and Cater. Obviously you knew it would be the last two, but the troublemakers came as a complete surprise. Riddle somehow learned to tolerate them instead of yelling at them every second, especially since they are not in Heartslabyul anymore. Once, however, he loosened up to the point where the Adeuce duo got him drunk as a silly prank. Poor Riddle has never experienced anything like this before and became extremely clingy to you when he, thanks to Trey, returned home. Eventually he ended up crying, so you had to comfort and cuddle him until he fell asleep, but you didn't mind it at all.

╰ It is obvious to Riddle that you would never cheat on him. But there are still times when he can't help but get a little jealous. He spends most of the day at work, so he doesn't really know what you're currently doing unless he calls you. Also because of this, the two of you don't spend as much time together as you'd like. He understands that you might feel lonely, so as long as you don't cheat on him, you can hang out with whoever you want.

╰ When it's your birthday, Riddle always has something special planned for you. He even leaves work early to surprise you with a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers and then takes you on a date to places such as a restaurant and theme park. When it's Riddle's birthday, you always try to bake his favorite strawberry tart, but you fail anyway, so you call Trey to come over to help you. For some reason, Trey always comes with Adeuce duo and Cater, which results in a huge party for your husband.

╰ Eventually, one day you apply for a job of your choice. You know that Riddle wouldn't have to work so hard if you could also earn some money. It was not easy to break this news to him, but in the end he said that it was your own decision and that he would support you no matter what.

╰ Sometimes your friends ask when you and Riddle will have children of your own. You're both still very young, so he isn't going to force you to have them now, but if you decide one day that you're ready, he would love to have two or maybe even three. Riddle doesn't feel confident enough to tell you this yet, because he's afraid that you might think it's too much for you, or perhaps you don't want to have children at all. Still, he finds you to be a very gentle and caring woman, and he's sure you'll make a perfect mother in the future.

Thank you for requesting!