#it's a big one but only if you look close enough

[ahopefulbromantic]

Okay I NEED to tell you all a story.

So dressing up is awesome that's why every party done by my friends and me has a dresscode. There was one friend whose parties were famous, she would invite a hundred people to her relatively small flat, there was always a huge cuddle pile on her tiny couch (high school was awesome), a hot makeshift dancefloor, very loud drunken and sober singing, everyone was there, and it was a fairly cultured party, too, no hard drugs, no s*x, no scandalous behavior.

The dresscode for this particular legendary birthday party was "fruits and vegetables play together on the street" (genius i know). You could come dressed as a fruit, a vegetable, or a road sign. There were some great ideas (for example a friend of mine was a green stop sign and called himself a "cognitive dissonance! cause look, you see something like this on the street and what do you do??? do you stop? or do you go??"), some very politically incorrect ideas (there was a guy who dressed up as a comatose patient and told us he was a vegetable, truly outrageous but also the most creative one out there), bananas, pickles, zebras (as in what you sometimes call a pedestrian crossing but literally the animal), lots of traffic lights, another friend of mine somehow got a real life traffic cone and wore it on her head dressed in a reflective vest, it was awesome.

Now for all the reasons i've listed before our host was famous not only amongst her peers. That's why this time we got complaints not from one, not from two, but from FOUR neighboring blocks for disturbing the mandatory quiet hours. This was the first (and only as for now) party in my life that the police kicked me out from. It was so cool!

This would normally mean that the party was over, right? Hehehe wrong. Of course many people went home after that but a big enough group, me included, decided on a meeting place nearby in order to continue the fun outdoors by the river, singing "Do you hear the people sing?" as we went. Before that, though, we had to get some food.

So now, imagine being an around-60-something shop assistant. Imagine it's nearly 11pm, just before you will need to close the store for tonight. In come several young people of varying ages, all dressed up as pickles, potatoes, fruit, traffic cones, road signs, etc. They all get very excited over your fruit and vegetables section, one guy lifting a bunch of bananas and tearfully saying, "look, it's my family!!!" Some of them probably are in the middle of a philosophical discussion. Some of them are singing either musical theatre numbers or Christian choral passion hymns. All in all they look like they have just escaped a mental asylum.

Needless to say, we got kicked out of the store, too

My friends and I used to do this thing where we'd dress up on a theme and go do something totally normal.

We dressed up as pirates and went bowling.

We dressed as vikings and went to the grocery store. The security guard told us we had to move our longship because it was illegally parked.

We dressed as Romans and went to Blockbuster. The staff chanted, "toga! Toga! Toga!" at us.

We dressed up all steampunk and went to the museum. Tourists kept taking our picture.

[russo-woso]

First match || Alessia Russo x reader

Request | Masterlist

Summary Bubba has her first match

-> Part of the A New Adventure universe

When the date came through for the beginning of the season, you and Alessia went a bit… crazy.

And no it’s not the beginning of the season for the two of you, instead it was the beginning of the season for Florence.

Wren and her teammates were old enough now to start playing in a youth league.

It was something you and Alessia had been dreaming of since you found out you were having a baby.

With the two of you being footballers, your baby was bound to have some kind of sporting gene, and like you suspected, Florence ended up being a football lover.

She jumped up and down with excitement when you told her she’d be playing her first match in only a matter of weeks.

It was big deal, your bubba’s first match, and you’d prepared for it for a long time but nothing could have prepared you for Alessia’s reaction.

“We’ve got to go.” Alessia had said once you’d told her.

“Where?”

“To sports direct. She needs new boots, new gloves, shin pads, everything bubba could need.” Alessia rambled, running to put her shoes and coat on.

“Lessi, baby, calm down. She’s got all that stuff.”

“I got boots, mummy, look.” Florence pointed out, pointing the predators next to her kit bag that was lying around due to Florence having training later that day.

“I know, bubba, but you’ve got to have the best gear.”

“Less…”

“Nope, come on, let’s go.”

Despite you and Alessia being strikers, Florence had an undoubtedly incredible talent in goal.

Which lead you to standing in front of the glove section at sports direct.

“I want the ones auntie Mary wears.” Florence said, holding the pair of puma gloves in her hands.

“Wren, me and mama have sponsors with adidas, you can’t wear puma.” Alessia explained, handing a pair of adidas gloves to Florence.

“No, I want auntie Mary’s gloves.” Florence wailed, stomping her foot in anger.

“Hey! Wren you don’t stomp your foot.” You told her

“Sorry, mama.” The four year old apologised, her bottom lip trembling as her eyes welled with tears.

“Let her have them. She’s a four year old girl and the gloves are pink, they’re clearly the ones she’s gonna pick.” You whispered to Alessia

“Wren, bubba, do you really want auntie Mary’s gloves?”

“Yes!” Florence exclaimed, her face brightening up as the following words left Alessia’s mouth.

“You can have them.”

“Thank you, mummy.” Florence said, jumping onto Alessia.

“You’re so welcome, bubba.” Alessia whispered, holding Florence close. “Now which boots do you want?”

“The ones auntie LeLe wears.”

“The Nike ones?”

“Yes!”

“That’s even worse…”

After a very expensive shopping trip, and lots of preparation, the day of the match was finally here.

You and Alessia were bundled in layers as you braved the cold around you.

Florence had woken the two of you up at six o’clock, jumping on your bed full of excitement.

You couldn’t stay mad at her for long. One look at her blue eyes and the anger was gone.

You had gotten her ready in her kit, getting emotional as you looked at her.

Her shirt was far too big for her and although she was still small, she had a confident look on her face.

Alessia quietly entered the room, wrapping her arm around your waist as you both looked at your daughter.

Alessia also had tears in her eyes, clearly just as emotional as you were.

“Mummy, mama, why you cry?” Florence asked

“You’re growing up so quickly, bubba. Can you not just stay this small?” You told her, kissing her head as you enveloped her in a hug.

“Mama, I’m a growing girl. I got to grow. I always be your bubba though.”

That just made you burst out into tears.

Florence wrapped her arms around your’s and Alessia’s legs whilst Alessia hugged you.

The three of you had stayed hugging for a moment or two before the realisation that you’d be late hit.

When you got to the pitch, Florence started sprinting to her teammates, not even saying goodbye to the two of you.

Alessia took your hand in hers as you walked towards the other parents.

Greeting them with a smile, you soon started a conversation about how nervous you were for the team’s first game.

The conversation soon stopped when about thirty voices were heard behind you.

Turning around, you were met with all the Arsenal girls plus a few other friends from the England squad or passed teams.

“What’re they all doing here?” You whispered to Alessia

“I mentioned Wrens first game to Kyra and it spread throughout the team.” Alessia explained

You’d mentioned it to a few close teammates and friends, just a few - Tooney, Lotte, and Mary - and promised to film clips for them but what you didn’t expect was for the whole team to come.

“What’re all you lot doing here?” You asked with a smile, hugging everyone as they focused on the pitch - attempting to spot the future lioness.

“We’ve come to watch our favourite keeper, no offence Daph.” Leah said, looking towards Daphne who just smiled at the comment.

“What about me though? I thought I was your favourite keeper.” A voice exclaimed

“Mary? Why are you here?” Alessia questioned, hugging Mary tightly before Mary hugged you.

“I couldn’t not see my mini me play her first game.” Mary told you, waving at Florence who had spotted her auntie Mary straight away.

“Auntie Mary!” Florence screamed, running and jumping into Mary’s arms.

“Hi, mini keeper. Oh my, look at your gloves!”

“Your gloves, auntie Mary.”

Alessia rolled her eyes as the topic arose again - it being a sensitive topic in your household.

“Mummy doesn’t like them, but I love them!” Wren exclaimed

“Wren, bubba, you need to go warm up. It will be kick off soon.” You reminded her as Mary put her back on the floor.

Both you and alessia crouched down to be in line with your daughter.

“Me and mummy are so proud of you, Wren.” You whispered as you hugged her.

“You’re going to do so well, bubba.” Alessia told her, kissing her head.

As Florence ran back into the field, cheers were heard from the sideline that was entirely made up of the Arsenal squad.

You and alessia smiled, looking at all your daughter’s aunties who had turned up to watch her first game.

Florence was so loved and If it wasn’t obvious before, it was definitely obvious now.

Both teams were ready now, everyone in their correct positions.

Just before the whistle blew, you watched Florence take seven jumps.

“Lessi, look.” You pointed to Florence

“I’m gonna cry.” Alessia said, her voice breaking as tears welled in her eyes - the moment already being overwhelming but seeing that was the cherry on top.

The whistle blew and the game soon kicked off.

“Am I late? Did I miss it?” A Manchester accent shouted

“Tooney! You came from Manchester?”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world? Where is she?” Ella asked as the two of you pointed to Florence stood in goal, her little face full of concentration.

“Go on, Wren!” Ella cheered, her voice echoing around the field.

“Auntie Tooney, too loud!” Wren scowled

“That told you.”

“You were incredible out there, bubba!” You said, picking wren up as she walked over after the game.

“A clean sheet and player of the match? I must be a good coach.” Mary said, fist bumping Florence as alessia swooped her up into her arms.

“My bubba played her first game!”

“Mummy, I’m not a baby!”

“You’ll always be mine and mamas baby. Even when you’re thirty.”

“Even when I’m a lioness?” Wren asked

“Even when you’re a gunner and lioness. Me and mama will always be your biggest fan, cheering you on in the crowd.”

“You’re going to be England future star, bubba.”

Florence smiled, a glint in her eyes as she imagined herself in goal at Wembley.

“If you can dream it, you can do it, baby.” You told her, kissing her cheek.

“I’m going to play at Tottenham.” Florence revealed - the Tottenham Hotspur stadium being one of the only stadiums she can remember.

“I’m sorry, what did you say, Missy?” Leah asked, her eyes wide.

“Tottenham!”

“We need to sit and have a chat.”

[littelovelunette]

Sticker On Her Forehead

Dim lanterns cast flickering shadows on Sevika's sleeping figure. You were bored, and had been scrolling on your phone for a while.

You held your breath, creeping forward with the stealth of a well-trained rogue—though, to be fair, your mission wasn’t exactly life or death.

It was, however, a matter of pride.

Sevika was asleep, sprawled out in her usual chair. Her breathing was deep and steady, the slow rise and fall of her chest signaling that she was well and truly out cold.

Her mechanic arm hung over the armrest of the chair, chin resting on her flesh hand as she dozed off. Her snores weren't as loud as usual, it was light when she napped but the moment her back hit the bed, she'd be snoring like a bear.

You had never seen her sleep before. You both were in a relatively new relationship, she always seemed too alert, too sharp, like she never truly let her guard down. But now, exhaustion had finally won, and you had the rarest opportunity of all.

In your hand was your secret weapon: a pastel colored sticker of a little pink bunny, ears floppy, eyes big and sparkly. It was obnoxiously cute—exactly the opposite of everything Sevika embodied.

You hesitated for only a moment.

Was this suicidal? Probably.

Would it be worth it? Absolutely.

Carefully, you peeled the back off the sticker, leaning in just enough to place it dead center on her forehead.

Your fingers moved with precision, gently pressing it into place. The contrast was immediate and hilarious—the hardened enforcer of Zaun, the right hand of Silco, now marked with an adorable pastel bunny on her forehead.

A breath of laughter almost escaped you, but you swallowed it down. The mission wasn’t complete yet. You needed to get out before—

Sevika’s nose twitched. Her brows furrowed slightly, but she didn’t wake. You took a slow step back, your pulse hammering in your ears. Another step. Almost there—

Then the metal fingers of her prosthetic twitched, and her organic hand shot out, catching your wrist in a vice-like grip.

Shit.

Her eyelids cracked open, and she exhaled a low, tired groan. “…The hell are you doing?” Her sharp grey eyes scrutinized your expression.

You froze, mind racing for an excuse. Nothing. There was nothing that could justify this.

You giggled nervously.

Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, locked onto yours. And then she frowned. The moment she lifted her hand to rub her forehead, you knew you had mere seconds before—

Pause.

Her fingertips brushed against the sticker. You watched, wide-eyed, as realization dawned in slow motion.

She peeled it off. Looked at it. Blinked.

The silence was suffocating.

And then—

“…You’re dead.”

You bolted.

Laughter burst from your throat as you ran through the house, the sound of a chair scraping violently against the floor signaling that Sevika was up and coming for blood.

You barely made it past the main hall before you heard her boots pounding behind you, her voice a lethal growl.

“You think this is funny?!”

“Yes!” you cackled, dodging around a table.

Sevika was fast. Too fast. It was sheer luck that you managed to duck away before she could grab the back of your shirt.

You swerved happily navigating your way in the house, laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

Then, suddenly, a mechanical arm caught you by the collar and yanked you backward.

Your feet barely touched the ground as Sevika hauled you up with terrifying ease, her face dangerously close to yours.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't break your damn fingers."

You grinned, breathless. "Because then I wouldn’t be able to put more stickers on you?"

Sevika stared. Her grip tightened.

And then—

A long, exasperated sigh.

She dropped you, shaking her head as if questioning every life decision that had led to this moment. “I swear to god, you’re worse than Jinx.”

"That means you love me, right?"

"Shut up."

She turned to leave—but not before slapping the bunny sticker onto your forehead.

"Checkmate."

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 2/?

*slips another piece into your mailbox*

_____________________

Jazz was still feeling a little woozy from his donation in the dark hours of the morning. Blaster had breakfast changed from the usual to something that felt more like a treat, probably a reward for his good behaviour, and to help his body recover. Fish heavy in proteins, fat, all that healthy stuff. Something that normally he would have tried to savour, but he wolfed it down from excitement. Too many questions ran through his head, and most he couldn't bring himself to voice.

The mer, the mer would pull through. Blaster told him about how he had saved their life with his blood. Praised him high and low. Because Blaster knew how Jazz felt about seeing blood, about how hard blood tests were for him, and that was only a tiny vial. Not three big bags of it. Jazz hadn't seen how much they had taken – because he had kept his eye closed until they left in a hurry –, and hearing about it made him dizzy for other reasons, but he honestly felt real proud of himself.

It was a new feeling, different from other moments of pride – like when he figured out the lock codes. Yeah, this gave him butterflies and the drive to help more.

Blaster laughed when Jazz offered that the vets could take more if the other mer needed it. His handler didn't think it would be, but he would pass it on to the vet team.

Jazz's morning checks were a little off, expected with having a little less fluids and feeling off-balance, but it was kept short and quick. Blaster told him that if he learned anything more, he'd tell him next time he came by and then hurried back down to the staff area. Blaster was needed elsewhere, understandably as there weren't many mer experts here, though he did leave Jazz his waterproof stereo if he wanted to play some of his favourites.

But, the orca mer was far too busy causing a whirlpool from the laps he was swimming. He was too excited to sit still, and embarrassment be damned he started practising old vocals. He didn't remember much of his mother tongue, and he was pretty sure that his pronunciation was off, that or had one hell of an accent. Echo-speech was even more rusty. And once he had gone over and over what he could recall, Jazz began to really worry. A few sentences and handful or so of words was all he had? Gods, I hope I can at least make a decent first impression. Blaster said they were just like me, so hopefully, that will give me some starting points.

More than he cared to count, Jazz would swim into the shallow waters of the medical bay and hope to see something through that window. But no one ever came close enough for him to hear any news of the mer. He couldn't even see anything on his radar, wherever they had done treatment, it wasn't in the hospital ward. It almost felt like he was being purposely kept in the dark.

And just when Jazz was starting to worry that things had taken a bad turn, a group of staff turned up around four pm. He wasn't able to ask any questions, or rather they refused to answer. Shooing him away as they got to work. Starting with closing the gate to the bay to 'keep him out'. Jazz could easily climb those walls, but that wasn't the point. Even if the gate window was closed, he could pick up that they were setting up the water hammock. But it wasn't until he heard the cautionary beeping of the hoist lift approaching that it dawned on him – the mer was coming. Now.

"Jazz," Blaster called, "… Jazz," he blew the training whistle and finally got his mer's attention. "Stop pacing and get over here."

"But–" Jazz looked back longingly up the wall.

"Jazz," his tone dropped to a firm one, and Jazz begrudgingly swam over to the pier. The human crouched and made sure that they held eye contact before he spoke. "I need you to promise me that you will stay in your enclosure."

He sunk a little, trying to play into his cuteness, but being far too anxious to really pull it off. "What do you mean?"

"Jazz," now warning him. Blaster knew full well that he was more than capable of getting into or out of places he shouldn't, bloody Houdini mermaid, "this is serious. Things are going well, we want to keep it that way. Which means keeping things calm and feeling safe. You're excited, I get it, we all are. But in about an hour, they'll be waking up and – from past experience seen with wild Mers – they will likely freak out. And the last thing we need is you hauling your tail over that wall and making things worse. Understand?"

The beeping was louder how and the hiss of hydraulics caused Jazz to look up. The arm of the lift was visible over the wall. They're here!

"Jazz," Blaster hopelessly called for his attention once more.

Within moments, a massive bundle was carefully raised, the staff calling out and coordinating. Jazz's gaze was fixed on the black and white fluke poking out, it was the only part of them he could see, and his heart began to race. Once they became hidden by the wall again, Jazz moved back to pacing by the gate without even thinking. Listening to people hopping into the water to unstrap the mer and call back n' forth. "Careful, careful! – Watch the head! – Someone give me a hand over here! – We're clear on this side! – Keep the head up!"

Really starting to sound like a broken record, Blaster chirped the whistle and called out to him again. The expression he wore must have been pretty pitiful because the look on Blaster's face dropped. "If I open the view port… will you promise me that you will wait, that you will stay in your enclosure?"

"I promise," he answered hastily, placing his hands on the gate, over the panel that would slide open.

"And that you will wait until everything is in the clear, till the staff come to oversee the integration. There will be no rushing things and no asking staff when we will open the gate."

"I promise," he repeated, trying not to beg.

Satisfied, Blaster pulled out his radio, "Blaster to Control; when the team is out of the Mer enclosure's medical bay, open the view port. Jazz's stress is mounting without a visual."

"Can do," came a quick reply.

Though, opening the panel was not. Several minutes went by, the hoist had cleared out, and much of the staff had returned to their other duties. Only two remained double-checking the mer's breathing and pulse. The moment that the last of them left, Jazz heard the lock disengage, and he retracted his hands as the panel shifted and began to slide open. The window was too small to get more than his hand – maybe up to his elbow if he wanted to push it – through, and sat just at water level– any movement sending water hopping to either side. But it gave him a clear view of the surface area inside.

Oh.

Oh. Jazz stopped breathing. While the mer's body was mostly supported by the fabric of the hammock, cradling them on their side, effectively hiding most of them from Jazz's angle. Propped up on a soft floating platform was the mer's head, face towards the gate. Sharp features and elegantly shaped finials, with flattering lines of their markings complimenting the peaceful expression as they slept. The butterflies from earlier came back stronger than ever, his heart thundering as words fumbled from Jazz's lips, "he's beautiful…"

_____________________

-GLC

Orca Prowl really is just-- too fucking pretty, omg, I'm living through Jazz in this moment like when I first saw your designs of him.

I'm more than happy to continue writing for you, you bring me so much joy. I screamed when I saw how much you liked it. If you have any requests you would like me to add to the story, leave it in the tags or comments ♡ I now plan to continue until the tsunami and a bit afterwards, maybe more, we'll see~

Oh. MY GOD. OKAY ALRIGHT OKAY ALRIGHT OKA

I'M ABOUT TO START PACING IN CIRCLES JUST LIKE JAZZ OVER HERE KDLCNFJFLFB PL E A S E THIS IS SO GOOD. The tension?? You can fucking TASTE it IT'S SO GREAT GLC I LOVE YOU

The way it all starts at night and then you (as a reader) have all this additional time to boil in your anticipation?? So fucking great. Like you can really feel how little power Jazz has over the wholse situation. The plot is moving but he doesn't have any saying in it. Well. Yet heheh

Anyway haha. Im normal and I made some art>:D

[goldielia]

headcanons: first dates version

includes: jh86, qh43, lh43, nh13, mm16, wn88, ld29, cb98, ws2

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

jack does not like dating people he doesn’t know a least a bit so when he asks you out you’ve been friends for a minute and you’ve been to his apartment a few times. you’re still nervous when you ring his doorbell. he told you to dress casual so you’re wearing baggy jeans and a sweater and it’s your favourite outfit but there’s nerves anyway. they’ve melted away though, minutes into the date, because you’ve ditched the pizza-topping-preparing for hopping onto the counter and constructing the perfect queue of songs to play through the big speakers in the living room. soon enough the both of you are singing and dancing through jacks kitchen, eating half the toppings he’s prepared while throwing the other half on heart-shaped pizzas. all your nerves are forgotten when he twirls you into his arms, leans his forehead against yours and asks you if he can kiss you. (you might burn the pizzas because you’re making out like teenagers but that’s nothing a quick doordash order can’t fix).

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

quinn likes romance but not cliches. your standard dinner and a movie would be too predictable so he tells you to wear your comfiest outfit you want to leave your apartment with and picks you up right on time. you’re both in his car in sweats and hoodies and you make a pit stop at your favourite chinese restaurant (he made you put your order into his phone the second you stepped foot into his car) before he pulls into the drive-in. he tries to keep the movie you’re seeing a secret but once you drive by the sign reading pride and prejudice in big black letters, he watches you gasping quietly and smiling to yourself out of the corner of his eye. if by the end of the night you’ve snuggled up together in the backseat, front seats reclined so you can still see the movie, and he tells you he picked pride and prejudice because he caught onto you quoting it in a text a few weeks back, maybe this becomes the best first date of your life.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

luke needs that slightly competitive edge so he takes you to his favourite arcade. you’re going on a random wednesday night when the sign says closed (luke’s made friends with the guy at the front desk, a college student who’s working a side job to pay his rent) so you’re in there alone. it’s a little awkward at first, you’re slightly nervous and luke’s a little like a shy puppy, talking away until his brain catches up with what he’s been saying but after a few minutes you’ve found the dance dance revolution nearly hidden in the back and it prompts a night of endless giggles. lukes long limbs trying to keep up with the instructions look objectively hilarious and you can’t imagine you look particularly graceful dancing while doubling over and heaving with laughter either. you try out most games in the room, trying to one-up each other and not so subtly staring in the colourful glow of the neon lights. luke orders you two a pizza to share and you find yourselves sitting on the floor of the arcade, stuffing your faces and sharing a diet coke (because it’s your favourite) and somehow you end up kissing each other goodbye (tentatively and very much like the first kiss that it is).

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

nico goes all out. i can’t explain why i think so but once you say yes to a date there’s no holding him back. he takes you to a pretty well known restaurant in new york city, you've never been there so he sends you a menu and dress code ahead of time which you gladly appreciate. it’s semi-nice, jeans and a button up look great on him and the watch on his wrist only adds to it. he’s got a light hand on your lower back when he follows you and the host out onto the rooftop terrace to your table. the people you see along the way are dressed similarly to yourself and nico, there‘s suit pants and button ups and fancy dresses everywhere. you’re pleased to know he described the dress code well and you fit right in (you were slightly anxious in front of your closet a few hours before) and thanks to scouting the menu out beforehand, you know which dish you’re most interested in. you end up splitting two of them, a pasta that’s almost not a diet plan violation and a bowl that most definitely is. he also insists you pick a bottle of wine so you’re pleasantly buzzed by the time you also order a chocolate dessert to share. conversation flows nicely, always has, even when you were only texting, and his very slight accent only adds to his charm. you decide to walk home, the way not being too long (and maybe he wants to spend a little more time with you and maybe hold your hand and maybe bring you to your door and part with a kiss on the cheek, like the gentleman he is).

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

you didn’t know about the term “meet-cute” before you met mitch, but looking back that’s totally what happened with you two. you were out with your best friends dog, they had gone back home for a few days to sort out some family matter and left you in charge of their adorable goldendoodle athena for the time being. with a hot drink in your left hand and her leash wrapped around your right, you braved the cold canadian november wind to spend your free saturday at one of torontos dog parks. you were deeply engrossed into the podcast you’d been listening to through your earbuds and you walked a few steps back and forth to keep warm while keeping your eyes on athena, who was playing idly with a few dogs you met at this park regularly. after a few minutes you noticed she favoured playing with one dog more than any of the others. when you called her over after you’d been getting colder and colder and even athenas happiness didn’t seem worth this torture anymore, her favourite friend even came over to you. it trotted over a few steps behind athena, seeming almost shy as it walked slowly towards you. as you crouched down to clip athenas leash back on, a voice sounded out from the other end of the clearing the dogs had been playing on. a few minutes later you’d found yourself next to the man, who introduced himself as mitch and the adorable chocolate lab athena had been playing with as zeus. it hadn’t taken the both of you long to decide to get coffee together, both of you not wanting to separate your dogs, who kept on playfully nipping and nuzzling each other. you’d ended up exchanging phone numbers over that exact cup of coffee and would later name this your first date.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

willy seems like a huge quality time guy to me, i think he’d like just being able to do his thing while you do yours. it’s how you end up because you try scheduling a date where you both find time for literal weeks but he has to manage practice and games and all sorts of media stuff and you’re busy yourself so you end up on opposite sides of his couch. your laptop on your lap, headphones in, typing away at school work or some project for your job while he takes calls and gives interviews and watches tape on the other end of the cushions, feet meeting in the middle. you indulge in some lingering looks and staring but also a game of footsies. there’s small breaks for a drink or a snack and of course a bit of chatting between the two of you and you’re surprised by how much you got done even though he can be pretty distracting if you peek over your laptop for too long (it also makes it even more rewarding when you both are able to close your laptops for the night and order some takeout for dinner and actually talk).

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

i’m convinced leon hates dating, especially first dates. i think he’d just take you out for coffee or drinks regularly without ever telling you about his intentions, mask it as friends going out together. maybe you were friends with a teammate or a wag before and he started out inviting them as well but soon it turned into just the two of you to the point where you’re creating routines. drinks after wins, coffee after losses. lunches or dinners after special occasions - a hatty or a night with many points. it takes your friend complaining about how nobody ever puts effort into dates anymore for you to realize that maybe you’ve been subconsciously dating leon draisaitl for months. you’re hesitant about it for a few days but you can’t hold yourself back one night so you ask him for a real date, drinks at your favourite bar, one that’s a little bit of a hole in the wall. you’ve discovered it a few, well, dates in and you’ve frequented it ever since, trying yourselves through the drink menu and this time you spend a night actually flirting instead of dancing around each other.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

you’re up early and just getting ready for your day when you receive connors text, “so i kinda broke my jaw last night, rain check on tonight?” and you’re instantly worried. usually you’d watch the blackhawks games but you’d fallen asleep over your work last night. “what do u mean u broke ur jaw? are you okay?” it takes him a while to answer and by the time you’re on your daily commute your phone vibrates again. “in a shit ton of pain and probably needing surgery but doing okay. sorry to have to reschedule, i was really looking forward to tonight :(” it’s your lunch break when you look at your phone again and you find a message by connors sister, who was the one to initially introduce the two of you. “hey, would you mind visiting connor sometime soon? we’re not getting in until the weekend and he’s been talking about your date a lot. he’s really bummed about his jaw so could you maybe cheer him up a little?” you instantly tell her yes and as soon as you’re able to log off you pick up some soup and ice cream and anything you hope he can eat before you make your way to connors. you’ve kept up a steady stream of texting to make sure he wouldn’t be asleep and he truly does look sad when he opens the door for you. after he’s eaten the soup and the two of you have curled up on his couch with the ice cream watching greys anatomy (you find it slightly out of place but he says he likes it because it reminds him of how much worse off he could be) he looks a little more relaxed.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

you’d been taking cycling classes for basically your whole college career, liking the way you could fit so much exercise into so little time, especially during your sports off season. will had seen you leave the cycling room of the gym red-faced and on shaky legs multiple times and never failed to throw you an amused smile or a light chirp. he still didn’t believe it was all that exhausting though, no matter how many times you told him about it so for your first date you insisted on taking him to his first cycling class (and treat him for a juice at your favourite cafe when he inevitably has to admit it’s fucking tiring). you had the actual time of your life, watching your oh-so-athletic-hockey-player-date sweat buckets and gasp for air on the bike next to you and he vowed to never make fun of you ever again for your classes if he could take you ice skating for your next date.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

feel free to let me know if you would like reading other players / scenarios!

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Stolen Clothes, Stolen Hearts

Pairing: 141 x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, light teasing, subtle possessiveness, sweet moments, mentions of stealing clothes

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy! Just been needing some more fluff recently in my life so here we are

Summary: You’ve been stealing the 141 boys' clothes, whether by accident or on purpose, and they each have their own reactions to it. But, as you’d soon find out, you’ve stolen more than just their clothes.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

You were, for all intents and purposes, a little bit of a thief. But not in the typical sense. No, you didn’t steal anything expensive or valuable—just the 141 boys' clothes. Shirts, hoodies, jackets… you couldn’t help it. They smelled like them. They were soft, warm, and comfortable, but most of all, they made you feel close to them.

It all started innocently enough. The first time, you didn’t even mean to take Simon's hoodie. You’d just gotten out of the shower, and his was the first one you grabbed. You didn’t realize it until hours later when you went back to return it, only to find that it felt too good to give up.

And from then on, you started "borrowing" their clothes—just a shirt here, a jacket there. None of them seemed to mind, but what you didn’t know was that the 141 boys were secretly in love with this side of you.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon was never one for outward displays of affection. His usual stoic demeanor meant that you’d never guess how much your habit of stealing his clothes affected him.

The first time you wore one of his hoodies, you didn’t think anything of it. It was cozy, it smelled like him, and it fit you perfectly—maybe even better than it fit Simon. But when you caught Simon’s eye from across the room, you felt a flutter in your chest. His gaze was fixed on you, his eyes barely visible under his mask, and his lips were twitching like he was trying to hide a smile.

"That mine?" Simon’s voice was low, almost a growl, but there was something softer under the surface.

You froze for a second, realizing your "theft." "Oh, uh... yeah. Sorry, Simon. I didn't think you'd—"

"You look good in it," Simon interrupted, his voice still gruff but with a hint of warmth that made your heart skip.

It wasn’t just a simple compliment. There was a slight glimmer in his eyes, an unspoken approval. Over time, Simon started leaving his hoodies or shirts where you’d find them, as if he were giving you permission. And every time you wore them, he’d say something like,

“You wear my clothes better than I do,” and you could tell he was secretly pleased, even if he never said it outright.

---

John "Soap" MacTavish

Soap’s reaction was completely different. From the moment he saw you wearing one of his shirts, he couldn’t contain his grin.

“Well, well, well…” he drawled, stepping into the room with a knowing look in his eyes. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

You smiled sheepishly, tugging at the hem of the shirt. “I didn’t think it’d be a big deal, Johnny.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin only widening. “A big deal? Lass, you’re wearing my shirt. This is definitely a big deal.”

Before you could protest, Soap wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. His chest was warm against yours as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t worry, though,” he said, his voice teasing but affectionate. “I’m flattered. You’ve got good taste.”

From that day on, Soap started leaving shirts and hoodies around you on purpose, practically daring you to take them. He’d catch you wearing them and ask with a wink, “How does it feel to wear my clothes? Lookin' good, eh?” He was proud to see you in his things, and it made him feel closer to you—almost possessive, in the best way.

---

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Gaz was a bit more subtle, but you could tell he was just as taken by your habit of “borrowing” his clothes. The first time he caught you in one of his jackets, he didn’t tease you at all. Instead, he stood back and just watched you for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips.

“You’ve got a knack for stealing my stuff, don’t you?” he said, voice low and steady.

You gave him an innocent smile, half-expecting him to get upset. But when you saw the softness in his eyes, you felt relieved.

“I didn’t think you’d mind,” you replied.

Gaz stepped closer to you, his fingers brushing lightly against your sleeve. “I don’t. You look good in it,” he said quietly, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. “Better than I ever did.”

There was something about seeing you in his clothes that made Gaz’s heart skip a beat. The thought that you felt comfortable enough to wear them—and that you actually looked incredible doing it—made him fall for you even harder. Every time he saw you in his jackets or shirts, he’d just smile and give you a small compliment, sometimes barely above a whisper.

---

John Price

Price was the most laid-back about it, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice. The first time you wore one of his shirts, you weren’t sure how he’d react. You’d taken it more as a joke, but when you caught his eye across the room, you saw a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“That mine, love?” he asked, his voice low and full of amusement.

You shrugged, trying to act casual. “I thought it might look good on me.”

“Oh, it does,” Price replied with a wink, stepping closer. His hand brushed lightly against yours, his touch soft but possessive. “Better than it ever did on me.”

You weren’t sure if you were imagining it, but there was something in his tone—something deeper—that made you feel like this wasn’t just about the clothes. Price was a man of few words, but every time you wore his shirts or jackets, he found a way to express how much he liked it.

Sometimes, he’d leave them out for you, purposefully. A shirt here, a jacket there. Small gestures that showed how much he cared. Every time he saw you in them, he couldn’t help but smile, a glint of pride in his eyes.

---

In the end, your little habit of stealing their clothes turned into something much more than just a playful gesture. The 141 boys each had their own ways of showing affection, and seeing you in their clothes was their way of claiming you, even if they didn’t say it out loud. It wasn’t just about the clothes—it was about the love, the closeness, and the feeling of having you in their lives, wrapped in their warmth.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[shikaizer]

PAIGENEXTDOOR p.b x reader PART II

summary : PART I The aftermath of hooking up with your enemy has been lurking discomfort towards the both you, the firm avoidance towards each other and the unsolved feelings has you dumbfounded.

warning : smut 18+, agressive, confusing feelings, degration, slight angst? hair pulling.

a/n : my writing in the first part was kinda ass 😭 as because i was finishing up two drafts at the same time.

eversince what happend between the both of you, you both stumbled upon the akwardness and the avoidance towards each other, therefore, you didn't want to ignore her or whatever, she was making it harder for the both of you by acting like you never exist at all whenever its only the two of you in the same area, she just acts like shes all alone, she would only talk to you when it was you who would inititate a conversation.

you never figured why she was acting like this, because what you remembered, she was the first one to make the move, and all of the it felt like she felt a sudden shame wash over her body.

of course you are enraged by this, you tried to understand, you wanted to but whenever you would bring it up she would dodge the question.

just when you had enough with her constant bypass, without hesistation you have paige pinned, both hands on the counter, glancing up at her, she looked irritated but her eyes is telling you a different story.

"what are you doing?" paige uttured under her breath looking down at you, even though you were small it seemed like you had full control over the situation making paige gag at the thought.

"tell me, why the fuck, your avoiding what happend" you gnarled between words, pressing yourself closer to her your warm breath hitting her face.

"what happend?" she asked makeshift of her confused words, you slammed your hand on the counter aggresively making her flinch

"if this is about that night, forget about it." she states composed as if its not a big deal, meanwhile you on the other hand is going crazy so close to pulling out your hair.

"are you serious right now?" you murmur in disbelief, you backed away slightly and relaxed your shoulders.

she stayed quiet and the both of you just looked at each other for a moment, you hesitated to speak up, but you already took the courage to bring the situation up, so there was no turning back now.

but before you could open your mouth words came out of her mouth first. "i was confused." she state and you scoffed letting out a snort cocking your head.

"fucking confused? you gotta be kidding me!" you yelled at her completely losing it, and she sighed as if you are the one stressing whos in the wrong.

"was that a one night stand then?" you gained composure letting your hands rest on your hip and she looked down probably trying to gather some words to say, "i wanted to shut you up." she mumbled somehow unsure of what she just said

"your fucking stupid, do you have any idea what i feel right now?" you whimpered and she finally gain back her gaze towards you and her face softening when she saw the tears swelling in the corner of your eyes.

"im... sorry.. i was just fazed.. i.. i dont know.." she looked down on the floor feeling guilty as she stammer thru sentence, you clench your jaw your eyes relaxing, and you spoke up again.

"fuck me." you cut her off, she was quick to look back at you her mouth slightly open, stunned at what she just heard.

"what..?" she voiced out like she didn't hear what you said clearly, you walked up to her again this time your fingers had reached for your zipper pulling them down to reveal your bare body, with nothing underneath but just a sweater which you have now threw aside.

you pressed your body against her, your boobs pressing on her body making her let out a small whimper before both hands are now rested on your hips.

she leaned down to your level pulling you in for a kiss, her grasp on your hips tightening as the kiss becomes more rough and passionate.

you moaned thru the kiss when you felt her hand make its way to your tits pressing and squeezing them, pulling away from the kiss.

"cant fucking resist you.." you confesses and she cooed smirking, her lips brushing on your jaw as her hand reaches at the center of your short, she lifted you up with ease placing you on the counter, she looked up at you and moved a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"cant get enough of me huh?" she teased sliding your shorts down and she chuckled amused at the sight of your bare cunt. "not even a fucking underwear, been waiting for this moment are you? slut."

she spat on her hand and rubbed them on your clit making you grunt "fuck yes." you express jerk your hips forward and without warning, she slammed her fingers inside you the only source of lube is her spit and the build up wetness inside you.

"oh shit!" you threw your head back, your hips twitching adjusting to her fingers. "wanted this so bad right? fucking take it." she spat her fingers starting to move faster, her other hand slapping the side of your hips keeping her eyes on you.

she kept her focus on you, entertained at the sight of you and your fucked out face, her current view was enough for her to be pleased.

"look at you.." she cooed scanning your body up and down watching the way you respond to her fingers, you wrapped your arms around her shoulder pulling her closer, she gladly took your embrace by placing one hand on your back the other one working its way to delight.

"fuck fuck fuck.." you cant even think straight, your mind is absent and the only thing your thinking about right now is how deep shes moving inside you.

the curl of her fingers made you yelp arching your back, she took a full of your hairing pulling them for you to meet her gaze.

"pai..paige i love you" you uttured out of the blue and she squinted her eyes taken back from the sudden confession, her pace slowed down trying to process what you said.

her jaw clenches and gained composure slamming inside you again this time it was very rough and deeper, and it seemed like there was a mix of anger in it.

you yelled out pulling her closer to you nails digging on the back of her neck your eyes rolling to the back of your eyes.

you dont even realize that you are close to cumming, and before you know it, you have squirted. paige slowed down and kissed your shoulder.

your cheeks quickly heat up when you felt the wetness between your thighs and you looked at paige, she just smiled at you kissing your forehead.

"lets get you cleaned up." she voiced out lifting you up to the bathroom, completely putting aside the fact that you just expressed your love towards her.

[captain-huggy-bear]

“I was really trying not to wake you” with kesselring if you feel like it!! 💛

He's just a big, giant clumsy giraffe. A handsome one though. Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You're cosy, warm in the way you only get when you're wrapped up in blankets that have taken on your body heat overnight. Cheek pressed into your pillow, arms wrapped tight around it, in that stage of sleep where the smallest thing could wake you. On the edge between dreaming and awake.

It's the sound of crashing that first starts drawing you from your sleep, the sound of Michael tripping over a pair of shoes he'd left in the middle of the floor, body going flying and slamming into the corner of dresser. The pointed edge landing solidly in his thigh.

"Shit, fuck! Ow! Fuck," You become more lucid, eyes blinking open, bleary and tired, as you push yourself up on one arm. Michael's holding his leg where he ran into the corner of the dresser, tripping backwards over a pile of his clothes he'd dumped there last night saying he'd deal with it in the morning, arms pinwheeling before he manages to right himself. Heaving a big sigh and dragging a hand down his face. He has yet to notice that you are awake and staring at him in the dark, the alarm clock displays big red numbers declaring it to be 5am.

"Michael?" Your voice is sleepy, so tired and the guilt hits Michael instantly when he looks over to see you staring at him. You're holding yourself up by one arm, other hand rubbing at your eyes to wake yourself up further. He had planned to sneak out to morning skate without waking you, so you'd get to sleep a little longer, it being a Saturday.

"Shit."

"Mike, are you okay?" You're starting to get up, pushing yourself to a seated position and he knows that if he doesn't stop you you'll swing your legs around and get fully out of bed to check on him.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good! Go back to sleep, honey" He's already advancing on you, nearly tripping over his shoes again. Hoping that by getting closer you'll stay in the bed, where you belong, because its 5am on a Saturday and you don't have work.

"Mikey?"

You watch him as he sits down on the edge of the bed next to you, large hands coming up to your shoulders to gently push you back down from your seated position.

"I..I was really trying not to wake you, sorry, baby, promise I'm good. Go back to sleep.” Michael pulls the covers back up over you, tucking you in as he tries to convince you to stay in bed, that it's not worth waking up with him before the sun has even risen.

"I can't if you're not here..." You hate falling asleep without Michael, roadies are particularly tough. You often struggle to fall asleep, tossing and turning and while you'll probably be fine right now, half-asleep as you are, you really don't want to go back to sleep without him.

"I've got morning skate, honey, I have to go...I'll be back in a few hours, promise." Michael's long fingers push your hair back behind your ear, stroking the hair by your temple slowly, gently. It's soothing enough that you can't help but close your eyes again, snuggling back into the pillows, the mattress, your bedding.

"You promise?" Your voice is already getting sleepy again and Michael can't help but smile at the way you snuggle back into your nest and he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers, the motion repetitive and soothing.

"Promise, sweetheart. Go to sleep."

He stays there longer than he really should. Stroking your hair, your cheek, until he hears your breath even out, until he knows you're asleep again. Then he creeps away, this time avoiding each and every obstacle that had caused him to wake you in the first place until he reaches the door to your bedroom.

He can't help but stop in the doorway, chin turned over his shoulder to watch you one last time before he leaves even when he knows he'll see you in a few short hours.

Even that feels too long sometimes.

[koenigami]

Watching caleb doing work out just had me thinking he probably let you lay on his back while doing push up he probably the one offering it too just so he can show off his strength

But instead I think laying under him would be better. You can watch him grunting and sweating in his glory maybe stealing a kiss while you at it. Plus it can be a challenge for him. Can he focus on his work out with his cute baby laying under him

so so sowwy for answering this only now nonnie><

ha! he'd be the one to come up with it. "i've been lacking some motivation lately, but surely having my pretty girl lie underneath me will be lots of help" and he says it with that flirty smirk, and there’s that cute dimple on his cheek, and his big shiny eyes to which you could never say no.

the irony is: he's the one to propose it bc he wants to fluster and tease you, but in the end he’s the one who ends up being a complete mess. how could he not? when you look at him as if he had hung up the moon and stars in the sky for you. when your hands subconsciously reach out towards him. when you wrap your arms around his neck, when your hands slide down his upper arms, and travel lower along his abs, making them tense up after each feather light touch.

how is he supposed to keep his composure when each kiss that you grace him with for each proper push up that he does, ends up tasting sweeter and sweeter. and sweeter.

"caleb?"

"mmh- yeah?" he grunts with another push, lifting and lowering his body effortlessly in a constant tempo. there’s a light sheen of sweat that’s coating his temples, his hair a little damp and messy. yet he still looks impeccably handsome.

slowly, as if scared that you might startle him, you let the pads of your fingers glide over his compression shirt until your palm is flat against his chest. right above his heart.

"it’s beating really fast." you worry your lower lip between your teeth as you tilt your head slightly to the side, looking at him with big doe eyes. "maybe you should take a break?"

goosebumps rise along your skin when his dog tag grazes your naked collarbone after he's lowered his body enough for the tip of his nose to touch yours. with a sardonic smile, caleb closes his eyes as he kisses the corner of your mouth. his lips are warm against your skin. everything about him is. he's always felt like a warm blanket enveloping you, offering you comfort, as much as a refuge from the overwhelming outside world.

you nearly whine in protest when, instead of giving you a proper kiss, he pulls away enough to look at your face.

"that's not because of the workout, pips."

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (16 - A Heart to Break)

Chapter Summary: This was cold, deliberate. Wanda wasn’t avoiding you, not exactly. She was around, always there at team meetings, in training sessions, and the common areas. But she never acknowledged you. When she did look at you—on those rare occasions—it wasn’t to meet your eyes. It was to look through you, as if you weren’t even there.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Chapter Tags: Angst

A/N: I'd like thank all of you again for following this series. Getting asks or feedback for this story is always the highlight of my week, especially how busy I am with school. Hope you like more angst :) P.S. @justagaynerdsblog it's not what you think. It's not THAT kind of triangle, it's just two idiots in love and being stupid // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Wanda started dating Vision right away.

Much to your chagrin.

Not that you had any right to feel that way. You’d practically shoved her toward him, hadn’t you? Painting Vision as the perfect choice, the logical choice, the safe choice. You could almost laugh at how quickly they’d made it official. 

Well, almost.

Every time you saw them together, that laugh stuck somewhere in your throat. The compound wasn’t exactly big enough to avoid them. You saw them everywhere—Vision holding open a door for her, Wanda tilting her head back to laugh at something he said. It was all perfectly polite—just like you’d told her it would be. 

You told yourself it was fine. You had no right to feel jealous, no right to feel the knife that twisted in your chest every time Wanda smiled at him the way you wanted her to smile at you—how she used to smile at you.

Still, it grated.

You didn’t realize how much until the team dinner that Friday.

The dining room was rampageous, everyone laughing and talking over each other in a way that only happened when Tony was footing the bill and the drinks were flowing freely. Wanda sat next to Vision, their chairs too close, their hands brushing often enough to make your jaw clench every five minutes.

You’d taken a seat at the far end of the table, two spots down from Sam, who was loudly recounting some mission story that had Natasha rolling her eyes. You weren’t really listening. Your attention kept drifting to the other end of the table, where Wanda was leaning in to whisper something to Vision, her lips curving into a soft smile at his response.

You looked down at your plate, stabbing a piece of grilled chicken a little harder than necessary.

“Having fun there?”

You glanced up, startled, to find Sam smirking at you, his arms crossed like he’d been watching for a while.

“What?” you asked, your brain still catching up.

“You’re murdering your dinner,” he nodded toward your plate, “What’d that chicken ever do to you?”

You looked down and realized your fork was practically embedded in what used to be a respectable dinner. Now, it was just a mushy lump, draining what was left of your appetite. You loosened your grip and mumbled, “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Sam said with a wink, his grin widening before he went back to the group discussion.

At the other end of the table, Vision said something that made Wanda laugh. It wasn’t one of those fake ones (you could honestly tell) she gave when she felt like she had to. Against your better judgment, you risked a glance. Wanda’s eyes were bright, her head tipped slightly toward him, looking positively smitten. Vision said something else, and she laughed again, this time quieter, her hand brushing her hair back behind her ear.

“God, this is pathetic,” you muttered to yourself, barely audible.

“What’s pathetic?”

Natasha this time. For someone trying to keep their head down, you were doing a terrible job. 

“Nothing,” you mumbled quickly, hoping she'd let it go. 

Of course, she didn’t. “You’re sulking like a teenager, and it’s making everyone uncomfortable. Come on,” she said.

Before you could make your defense she was already on her feet, nodding for you to follow. You hesitated for a fraction, then pushed your chair back, grateful for the excuse to leave. You could feel Wanda’s gaze on you as you stepped away from the table, Natasha leading the way out.

By the time you reached the balcony, you were ready to empty the meager contents of your stomach. You hadn’t been eating well lately, and it was starting to take a toll on your training regimen. You’ve been skipping workouts more often this week, and Natasha had been noticing that too.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked, though there’s no pressure in her tone of voice.

“Nope,” you replied, short and to the point.

Natasha shrugged, unbothered. “Suit yourself.” 

She shifted to one side of the balcony, pulling a cigarette from her back pocket and lighting it with the kind of flair that made you wonder if she smoked to think or just to piss people off.  She inhaled deeply, held it, exhaled away from you in a long, steady stream. 

You leaned against the railing, your fingers curling around the cold metal, trying to focus on the night sky rather than the conversation you knew was coming. Natasha never forced anything, but she didn’t let things go either. Not when she thought there was something worth digging into.

“This… push and pull with Wanda. It’s exhausting to watch, honestly,” she started.

You scoffed, almost exaggerating it. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“You were friends, real friends, and now you can’t even be in the same room without turning into this.”

“Into what?” you asked.

“Like a zombie, Y/N. And Wanda—or maybe Vision—is the brain you want to eat. You’re not yourself. What happened?”

“That’s ridiculous.” You bristled, looking away. “Nothing happened, okay?”

“Right. Because ‘nothing’ turns people into brooding messes who barely eat, barely train,” she countered.

You kept quiet. Natasha had no business knowing about this. If your face gave you away this evening, you were just going to have to fake it until you make it.

“Something happened, didn’t it?” Natasha said, not even bothering to disguise the accusation. “Between you two. Because this? This isn’t just awkward. It’s worse. My guess? You broke your own damn heart.”

“I don’t have—”

“A heart to break?” she cut in, rolling her eyes so hard you could practically hear them scrape against her skull. “Stop it. The more you deny it, the more it owns you. That’s how it works.”

You frowned, trying to parse where she was going with this.

“There’s a way to handle it,” she continued, exhaling smoke as if it carried some of her frustration with it. “You move on, Y/N. But, clearly, you’re doing it wrong.”

“You’re the expert now?”

“I’m saying I’ve been there,” Natasha said, taking another drag of her cigarette. “You’re stuck because you haven’t accepted the decision you made. And it’s eating you alive.”

“How do you know that I—”

“Oh, come on. Everyone knows Wanda’s been obsessed with you since she joined the team,” she said with a faint smirk. “And now she’s with Vision. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. You chose something—or someone—and now you’re second-guessing yourself.”

What she said settled over you like a suffocating blanket. Natasha was right. It was the ‘what if?’ that’s been haunting you since you denied your feelings for Wanda—rather impulsively if you were being truly honest. 

“Do you… Do you think I made the right choice?”

“As much as I’d love to hand you the answer on a silver platter, I don’t have it,” Natasha said, brushing ash from the tip of her cigarette. “Only time will tell, I guess. But I will say this: you made your choice for a reason. Trust yourself on that, at least.”

Natasha pushed off the wall, brushing her hands against her pants. “Better get back inside before she comes looking for you.”

“She won’t.”

Natasha let out a dry, skeptical hum before heading back inside. You’d thought she’d dragged you out here to convince you to get Wanda back. But this was harder to swallow.

Trust yourself. 

As if it were that simple.

—

The fallout with Wanda this time was different. Different from all the other times you tried to jumpstart some version of a friendship or a co-working relationship and failed. It wasn’t the wary distance you’d both kept when she first arrived at the compound, when trust was something neither of you could afford to give. This was worse.

This was cold, deliberate. Wanda wasn’t avoiding you, not exactly. She was around, always there at team meetings, in training sessions, and the common areas. But she never acknowledged you. When she did look at you—on those rare occasions—it wasn’t to meet your eyes. It was to look through you, as if you weren’t even there.

She was always with Vision now. Rarely did you see her without him by her side. The team had started referring to them as Wanda and Vision, like they were one entity. It wasn’t, “Ask Wanda,” or, “Ask Vision.” It was, “Ask Wanda and Vision.” As if they’d merged into one seamless, perfect unit. When Vision wasn’t around, the questions still fell to Wanda, as if she spoke for him. When Wanda wasn’t around, Vision became her proxy. The separation between them had dissolved in everyone’s minds, and you hated it. Not because they didn’t deserve to be happy—no, you’d told yourself you wanted that for her. You just hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to watch it unfold right in front of you.

You told yourself you’d get used to it, that it was just a phase, but it wasn’t. It was more like a drawn-out misery you couldn’t escape. You missed her. You missed the easy banter you’d started to build before everything fell apart. You missed the way her sharp wit challenged you, the way she’d smirk when she knew she’d gotten under your skin just enough to make you react. You found yourself wondering if she still trained, if she was keeping up with the progress she’d been so proud of.

And sometimes, when you were alone in your room, you wouldn’t even turn up the music. You’d sit there in the quiet, waiting, straining to hear anything from her side of the wall. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you’d hear her playing the guitar—something she’d started doing more often in recent weeks. Most nights, though, it wasn’t the guitar you heard. It was Vision. Wanda’s voice rarely reached you, but when it did, it was laughter. Laughter that you didn’t cause, that wasn’t yours to hear anymore.

The worst of it came when they started leaving together. Late at night, when the compound had quieted down and most of the team had gone to bed, you’d hear the faint sound of their footsteps, see them heading toward the exit. You told yourself they were just walking, just talking, but you weren’t naïve. You knew what couples did late at night.

And they were a couple now.

—

You considered going back to your apartment in the city. It wasn’t far—just a few miles—but the missions were rolling in again, and timing was everything. It was easier to stay at the compound, to be ready for whatever disaster came next. Besides, throwing yourself into work was better than sitting alone in an empty apartment with your thoughts circling Wanda and Vision like vultures.

Missions came and went, and luckily, you weren’t paired with Wanda or Vision. Someone else was always available, someone else always volunteered. It was a small mercy you clung to as you poured yourself into the work. You kept yourself busy. Busier than usual. You took on every assignment thrown your way, volunteering for extra shifts, running double-time during debriefs. 

But the work didn’t just distract you—it became a way to punish yourself. You didn’t take unnecessary risks; you took reckless ones. If the odds were stacked, you went in headfirst.  It wasn’t that you wanted to get hurt—at least, not consciously—but somehow, the pain on the outside felt like the only thing that could dull the pain within.

And the wounds came. Small ones at first—a sprained wrist, a shallow cut above your brow. Then larger ones. A nasty gash along your arm during an ambush. Against protocol, you never went to the in-house medical team. You handled it yourself—bandaging wounds in your room, stitching yourself up with clenched teeth, biting down on a scrap of fabric to muffle the sounds of pain.

It was only a matter of time before your luck ran out.

—

The bullet grazed your side during a narrow escape, tearing through your jacket and slicing into your skin with brutal efficiency. You barely had time to think about it in the heat of the moment, too focused on getting out alive. But by the time you returned to the compound, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving nothing but the sharp, unrelenting pain and the blood—hot and stick— seeping through your fingers as you clutched your side.

Turning a corner, you nearly collided with Wanda, who was coming back from the gym. She was still in her workout gear, a towel slung over her shoulder, her hair pulled back, a light sheen of sweat on her skin. Her eyes darted up to meet yours, and for the first time in weeks, she didn’t look away immediately.

You managed a small nod and tacked on a weak smile for good measure. She returned the nod but the smile didn’t come. She moved to step past you, and you thought that would be the end of it.

But then you faltered—just a split-second wince as the pain surged, a grimace you couldn’t quite hide. Her steps slowed, her head turning slightly. Her eyes landed on your hand, pressed against your side, and then on the dark red stain spreading through your shirt.

“Wait,” she said sharply.  

“It’s fine,” you muttered, trudging along, trying to walk straight even though your side burned like hell.

Without a word, she turned back and then unwound the towel she had draped around her shoulders, stepping closer and pressing it firmly against your side. You jerked back at the pressure but didn’t stop her. Her hand stayed steady, though her expression betrayed none of what she might’ve been thinking. It wasn’t anger, or at least not just anger. 

“I’m calling the medic,” Wanda said.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “It’s just a graze. I don’t need the medics.”

Wanda merely glared at your wound, though you could see the tightness in her jaw, the way her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You’re bleeding through a towel,” she said flatly.

“I just need the first-aid kit,” you mumbled, glancing toward the storage room. “That’s all.”

She didn’t look at you as she asked, “Where is it?”

“Why?” you asked cautiously.

“So we can patch you up.”

We.

Did she mean you and her? Or was this some prelude to Vision walking into the hallway and the couple patching you up together? You didn’t ask, though the thought burned in the back of your mind.

“It’s just right there,” you finally said, pointing weakly toward the door a few feet away.

She didn’t move right away. Her hands stayed where they were, pressing the towel firmly against your side, applying just enough pressure to slow the bleeding but not enough to stop your brain from wondering why the hell she was doing this. Wanda had made it pretty clear she wanted nothing to do with you. A wound like this wasn’t life-threatening at all. But she was treating it like you were on death’s doorstep, making it more difficult for you to ignore the flutter of feelings you’d been working so hard to bury.

After what felt like too long, Wanda stood, releasing her grip on the towel. “I’ll get it,” she said simply. You stayed where you were, slumped against the wall. The absence of her hands left you trembling slightly, and for the first time, you really felt the weight of exhaustion pulling at you, the weakness from blood loss settling in.

Fine. Maybe you’d lost more blood than you’d let on. Maybe being stubborn about not calling the medic wasn’t your brightest move. Still, you’d had worse. This didn’t even rank in your top five.

Wanda returned a moment later, but instead of handing you the first-aid kit, she surprised you by crouching beside you and looping your arm over her shoulder. Without a word, she guided you to the storage room, half-carrying you with surprising strength. Once inside, she maneuvered you to sit on a low bench against the wall, then turned away to open a cabinet. When she crouched back down in front of you, first-aid kit in hand, she didn’t so much as glance in your direction. She snapped the lid open and laid out the supplies.

“You don’t have to do this, Wanda,” you whispered, your voice scratchy and weak, which annoyed you more than the actual wound. You were starting to feel a little loopy, unsure if this was really happening or just a dream—if you were dead somewhere else or still lost in sleep in your bed. If it were the former, you thought, it was certainly a good way to go. It made you smile without realizing it, which only seemed to make Wanda more alarmed.

Now moving with a bit more urgency, she grabbed a bottle of antiseptic and a piece of gauze, pouring the liquid onto it before pressing it against your wound unceremoniously. You hissed, waking you up a little, your hand gripping the edge of the chair as the pain flared. She didn’t acknowledge the sound, her attention fixed on cleaning the blood away.

“Stay still,” she warned after you’ve shied away too far.

When she pulled out a needle and thread, your stomach sank like a stone in dark water. “Stitches?” you muttered, though it barely qualified as a question—more of a sigh, defeated before the fight even started.

“It’s deep enough,” she reasoned, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

The first stab of the needle lit up your nerves, a white-hot jolt that ripped through your side. You sucked in air through clenched teeth, fists balled tight at your sides.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered under your breath.

“Stop moving,” she said, her voice maddeningly calm.

You didn’t stop moving, not entirely, but you managed to keep your whimpers to a minimum as the needle went in again. And again. At some point, the pain dulled—not because it got easier, but because it started to blur, your skin either numbing or your brain deciding it had enough.

When she tied off the last one, she grabbed the bandages, wrapping them around your torso.  The bandage had to loop around your waist, and for that, she leaned in, her arms slipping behind you. She was so near that you could almost count the freckles scattered across her nose. The proximity made you hyper-aware of yourself—how you reeked of blood, smoke, and sweat, and how there was nowhere to hide from it.

And then it was over. She finished without ceremony, knotting the bandage with quick fingers before standing and turning away. For a moment, she hovered by the cabinet, her back to you, her shoulders stiff.

“Don’t make me do this again,” she murmured so quietly that you couldn’t quite decipher the emotion behind it.

Her words should’ve felt like an admonition, but instead, they landed like a plea. You weren’t sure if she was talking about the stitches or something much more complicated. And as you watched the way her shoulders sagged slightly, the way her head dipped like the fight had drained out of her, it hit you—this wasn’t easy for her either. None of it was.

“Wanda…” Her name came out too soft, like you didn’t really want her to hear it. Like you weren’t sure what you were going to say next.

“Get some rest,” she murmured, the words almost tender—

But final.

[chimielie]

match point

hajime opens the door, blinking blearily as the permanent fluorescents of the hallway greet his eyes. he drags a hand down his face, taking a quick opportunity to take you in, your shorts and knees (the left one has a nasty green bruise, leftover from his forcing you to try indoor climbing last week) and fuzzy socks peeking out from your sneakers. your shirt almost swallowing you, making the jacket you’re wearing look oddly cropped. your hair sticking straight up.

“hi, hajime,” you say, yawning uncontrollably. “thank you. sorry.”

“no problem,” he says, “come in, it’s too bright.”

inside, there’s only the pinpoint of his cell flashlight on, a beacon leading you to his room—first left in the hallway, you really would be able to find it blindfolded. you don’t act like it, though, putting a hand on his back and closing your eyes while he forges forward. the light brush of your fingers over the thin t-shirt he’d pulled over his head thirty seconds ago is the confusing kind of thing leaking out of his dreams.

“there’s a protein shake pack there, watch your—yeah. your step.” the warning comes just in time for you to stub your toe as he shuts the door behind the both of you.

he busies himself digging in his closet while you swear as quietly as you can.

“you want the bed? i’ll take the couch,” he offers.

“‘m not kicking you out of your own bed at—” you squint at your own phone screen. “3:47 a.m. i just really appreciate you letting me stay over, haji. thank you so much.”

“not your fault your roommates set off the fire alarm at 3:47 a.m. seriously, take the bed.”

you were lucky, he thought, lucky he had your contact set to break through Do Not Disturb, lucky he lived a floor above you so you didn’t have to scream hysterically at them for waking you up like this again in the middle of exam season. the violent string of texts he’d woken up to (and the distant shrieking of your apartment’s alarm) had made him laugh so hard he’d typed come over almost without thinking about it, i promise i won’t hotbox the bedroom while you’re trying to sleep.

“let’s just share,” you suggest, and he fumbles the spare blankets in his hands. he’s glad he’s facing away from you. “it’s too early to fight.”

“too late,” he corrects you. “you sure we’ll both fit?”

it’s a reference to your freshman year, when you used to climb into his twin XL bed and lie on top of him so neither of you were falling off the edge. physical affection was more common for you then, before he’d realized that his dumbass had gone and fallen in love with you and you were just his very affectionate friend.

“yeah, you have a big boy bed now. i miss the lightning mcqueen sheets, though.” you’re already hanging the jacket on the back of his chair, crawling through the vast ocean of cotton to curl into a ball near his pillows. he checks his phone again, wondering if he ever really woke up. he has dreams, secret, shameful ones, like this often.

there’s a song and dance missing. shouldn’t he be fighting harder to take the couch? building a pillow wall? as he joins you, even as he’s stretching his body out and feeling his left shoulder pop, you gravitate into him. he puts an arm around you, his bicep thick enough beneath your back to make you shift around to get comfortable again. your fuzzy sock-covered foot pushes up the ankle of his sweatpants.

“hey, wait,” he says. you make a soft sleepy noise that breaks his heart to hear like this: so close, and yet not at all. “was that my jacket you were wearing? the one i’ve been looking for?”

“yeah,” you nod into his chest. “you gave it to me last time we went out.”

“oh, i’d forgotten,” he hums. a few more moments pass, his own eyelids getting heavy.

“i like wearing your clothes,” you tell him, “it makes me feel like you’re my boyfriend.”

maybe in the morning he’ll do something about that; for now, he sleeps with your deep, even breathing an inch away, the warm glow of something new and right and shared suffusing his chest.

[ikkyfics]

hi!!! im sorry i dont request often, but ive been so in love with ur fics... my atj obsession is coming back full force and you write dave soooo well <33

maybe a fic where reader isn't exactly popular (pretty and maybe has a few close friends) and has a big crush on dave? like she can't understand how he's 'invisible to girls', cause she stares at him in whatever classes they both have, and she stands at her locker for forever just staring longingly at him and he never notices. maybe her best friend tries to convince her to talk to him eventually ..

was thinking it could be sfw and maybe fluffy (maybe a little angsty if you want) idk!!! thank you for considering it if you do, and im excited for what other work you have lined up ❤️

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: in which Dave doesn't notice any of your signals

Warnings: fluff, pre relationship, idiots in love, no use of y/n

A/N: SO SO SO SORRY, I know it's been forever since you sent this request, but I only just got around to doing something. I kind of lost count of how many times I started and deleted this fic. If you read this, I appreciate you not giving up on me, and thank you so much for the message, it was very very kind and I can only thank you for those sweet words. I hope you can enjoy this, darling (and I'm sorry if I deviated a little from the request)

You always looked at him.

Sometimes subtly, when he walked down the school hallway with that casual stride, balancing his backpack on one shoulder, his headphones hanging around his neck, his brown curls falling slightly over his forehead. Other times, you didn’t even try to hide it, like when he laughed at something stupid during lunch and his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses, or when you saw him from afar during gym class, not understanding how no one else noticed how good he looked in that blue shirt.

It was a mystery to you. How was it possible that no girl at school looked at Dave Lizewski? How was it possible that no one saw what you saw?

"You should just tell him you like him and get it over with," your friend casually remarked, while you checked your phone for the thousandth time, waiting for Dave’s reply.

You pretended not to hear, but the heat on your face gave you away.

That was it. You liked him. More than you should like a friend you only exchanged messages with and talked to when you bumped into each other in the hallways. More than you should like someone who, probably, didn’t see any of it.

So, when Dave suggested you two go to the movies together to watch a Batman re-release, you tried not to overthink it.

But that became impossible when you found yourself standing in front of the mirror for too long, adjusting your top, letting your hair down and tying it up three times before deciding which way looked the least intentional. Your hands were a little sweaty, and you rolled your eyes at yourself when you realized you had chosen that specific perfume, the one that always made someone comment on how good you smelled.

It was just Dave.

Just Dave, who got adorably awkward when you accidentally complimented him. Just Dave, who laughed at your bad jokes and sent stupid memes in the middle of the night. Just Dave, who—when he met you in front of the theater—stopped mid-sentence as he looked at you, blinked a few times, and without even trying to hide it, gave you that quick once-over from head to toe before clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses.

"You look… uh, different today."

You raised an eyebrow, holding back a smile. "Different how?"

Dave opened and closed his mouth once, clearly trying to choose his words. His curls fell slightly over his forehead as he tilted his head to the side, and he made that unconscious motion of pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Pretty."

It was a bit hesitant, but genuine enough to make the heat rise to your cheeks.

"I’m always pretty," you joked, trying to keep your composure.

Dave smiled that awkward smile, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah… I know."

And then, as if realizing he was giving too much away, he pointed toward the theater doors. "We should go in."

He was right. But as you passed through the ticket booth and grabbed your tickets, you could still feel his gaze on you from time to time.

The theater was packed, and the tight seats meant you were close enough that when he moved, his knee brushed against yours.

The room darkened, and soon the movie started. You tried to focus on the screen, but it wasn’t easy when every little movement of his caught your attention. The way he leaned over to grab more popcorn and, in the process, his fingers brushed against yours, his warm skin against yours in a fleeting touch that left an uncomfortable awareness in its wake. As if, somehow, that brief contact was more significant than it should have been.

He didn’t seem to notice. He just stayed there, leaning on the armrest, relaxed, his eyes lit up by the glow of the screen. Every now and then, he’d bite his lower lip without realizing it, an unconscious habit of concentration that made something twist in your stomach. His jaw looked more defined like that, and you felt an annoying urge to look longer than you should.

And then he leaned in.

You felt it before you saw it. The movement beside you, the sudden warmth of his presence getting closer, and then his warm breath grazing your skin as he whispered:

"Did you know Christian Bale almost lost the role because they thought he was too skinny?"

It sent an immediate shiver down your spine.

Maybe it was the fact that his voice came out lower than necessary, raspy on purpose or by accident. Or maybe it was because he was close, close in a way that didn’t seem normal for two friends watching a movie. His face was almost touching yours, and your mind made a stupid connection, the kind that should’ve been ignored: if you turned your head just a little, if you leaned an inch in the wrong direction, his lips would touch yours.

You swallowed hard.

"Is that true?" Your voice came out lower than you intended, and he chuckled softly, as if he noticed.

"He gained like 100 pounds of muscle in six months."

"Is that even possible?" You forced yourself to keep your eyes on the screen, as if ignoring the proximity would be enough to not feel every detail of it.

"If you’re Batman, it is."

The reply came in an almost playful whisper, and then he pulled back as if nothing had happened, leaning back into his seat.

Unlike you, who stayed there, absorbing the fact that your heart was beating way too fast for something that was supposedly nothing.

But it wasn’t just that.

His fingers were still close to yours on the armrest between the seats, so close that if either of you moved, the touches would repeat. You noticed when he grabbed more popcorn and his knuckles brushed lightly against your skin. Maybe you were imagining things, but he didn’t seem in such a hurry to move his hand away this time.

The movie went on, and by this point, you couldn’t tell if you were following the story or just the small details about him. The way he shifted in his seat, the subtle movement of his chest rising and falling with his breath, the warmth radiating from him so close to you.

His voice came low, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

"Did your soda run out?"

You blinked, needing a second to process the question, before realizing that yes, the cup of soda next to you was empty.

"Yeah."

"Then have some of mine. You must be thirsty after all that popcorn."

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been. But when he tilted the cup toward you, you hesitated for a moment. Your eyes met his, and Dave smiled slightly, waiting for you to take the cup.

So you took it.

You brought the straw to your mouth and drank, feeling the cold soda running down your throat. But that wasn’t all you felt. Dave was watching. Not just casually. He didn’t look away the next second, didn’t glance at the screen as if nothing had happened. He was watching.

When you lowered the cup and handed it back to him, your fingers touched for a moment. Warm, slightly sticky from the popcorn salt, but still soft. Dave blinked a few times, as if processing something, and then drank from the same straw without a second thought.

The rest of the movie went on like that. Little moments that made it seem like you were something more. You whispered that you wanted to try the chocolate he bought, and he offered it, holding the candy near your mouth almost casually. Later, he made a comment about some scene, and you replied softly, leaning your face closer to his than necessary. It was all a silent game that neither of you seemed willing to admit you were playing.

But then the movie ended.

You needed to go to the bathroom, and Dave murmured that he’d wait outside. You nodded, adjusted your jacket, and walked away, trying to ignore the silly feeling that you were leaving something behind.

It was when you came back that you felt something strange.

There he was, standing near the theater exit, and right in front of him was a girl. You didn’t know her, but you recognized that smile. A sugary smile, a deliberate lean of her body toward him. She laughed softly, playing with her hair, saying something that made Dave furrow his brows, confused. And then you understood.

She was flirting with him.

And he had no idea.

Your body froze mid-step. It was stupid, but for a moment, you felt a strange weight in your chest. What would happen if, suddenly, someone started seeing in him what you saw? If someone looked at him and saw exactly what you saw? If someone fell for Dave Lizewski the way you were falling for him?

Your stomach churned.

That’s when he looked at you.

His face lit up in the same second, and he smiled—that genuine, easy smile he didn’t give to the girl in front of him. He muttered something quickly to her, nothing rude, just a hurried goodbye, and then started walking toward you.

And you, who still felt the heaviness in your chest, didn’t know what to do when he stopped beside you and asked, as if nothing had happened:

"Let's go?”

You could still feel the warmth of the movie theater on your skin, the memory of your fingers brushing against the popcorn, the brief touch of your hands, the low sound of his voice, raspy and almost lazy, echoing in your ear. It was absurd how every detail seemed amplified now, as if the simple fact of being alone on this walk made everything feel more real.

Dave adjusted the collar of his jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets, and took two quick steps to align himself beside you. He always did that—making sure you walked together, close, your shoulders almost touching with every movement. He glanced at you, looking like he wanted to say something, but then changed his mind and just let out a short sigh.

You bit your lip. You couldn’t get the image of the girl at the theater out of your mind. Or the way she looked at him, or the casual way Dave stood there, listening, completely unaware.

"She was pretty."

The words came out suddenly, and Dave turned his head toward you, slightly confused. "What?"

"The girl at the theater." You shrugged, kicking a small pebble on the path. "She was pretty."

He was silent for a moment, as if trying to figure out where you were going with this. Then he shrugged. "Yeah."

It was a small, indifferent sound. But for some reason, it annoyed you.

You huffed, crossing your arms, and looked at him. "And she was flirting with you."

Dave furrowed his brows, laughing lightly, as if that were absurd. "No, she wasn’t."

"Yes, she was."

"No, she wasn’t."

You stopped abruptly on the sidewalk, forcing him to stop too, his eyes widening slightly at your sudden hesitation. The cold wind passed between you, but all you felt was the heat rising to your face.

"You’re too much of an idiot to notice."

His smile faltered a little, and Dave opened his mouth, as if to retort, but couldn’t find the words.

"I’m not an idiot." He sounded slightly offended, furrowing his brows in a way that only made him seem more naive.

"Yes, you are."

"No, I’m not."

"Then tell me," you challenged, tilting your head to the side, crossing your arms as you stared at him. "If a girl were flirting with you, would you notice?"

Dave let out a nasal laugh, shaking his head. "Obviously."

"No, you wouldn’t."

"I would."

"You wouldn’t."

He rolled his eyes, sighing in an exaggerated way. "Okay, then. How are you so sure about that?"

And that’s when it happened.

You didn’t think much. You just looked at him, at his messy curls and blue eyes behind his glasses, at the face you knew so well and at the answer that had been begging to come out for a long time.

"Because I’ve been giving you every possible sign, and you haven’t noticed."

The silence that followed your confession wasn’t empty.

It was heavy, loaded with something indescribable, something that tightened your chest and made the air feel denser around you.

Dave stood in front of you, his face partially lit by the nearest streetlight, his hair casting shadows over his eyes. But even with the poor lighting, you could see it.

The shock.

His lips parted, as if he were about to say something, but nothing came out. His gaze fixed on yours, unblinking, and the expression that took over his face was a mix of disbelief and something deeper—something you couldn’t name.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart hammering against your ribcage, the pulse vibrating in every extremity of your body. Your hands were cold, but the heat rising to your face was almost unbearable.

You had said it.

You had said it out loud.

And now there was no turning back.

Nervousness washed over you like a wave, sweeping away any trace of courage that remained. Your chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm, and your fingers moved slightly, restless, before you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

"I like you, Dave."

Your voice came out shakier than you wanted, but it was too late to fix it.

Dave blinked, as if the words had just hit him with full force.

"I’ve liked you for a while. A long time." You forced a short laugh, looking at the ground for a second before meeting his eyes again. "But you never noticed."

He wet his lips, looking away, at anything that wasn’t you, as if he were trying to organize his thoughts.

His mouth opened and closed again, without a single word coming out.

"Dave," you called, and he finally looked at you again.

His eyes were intense now, as if they were trying to absorb every detail of you, every tiny movement.

You felt the hesitation in the air.

The weight of what had just happened.

But then, he did something unexpected.

With an almost hesitant movement, Dave slowly raised his hand, as if testing his own limits, as if he still couldn’t believe he could touch you. His fingers brushed against the sleeve of your jacket before finally holding your forearm, the touch light, uncertain, but real.

"I’m an idiot."

His voice came out low, almost a whisper, and the way he said it made your chest tighten in a strange way.

You opened your mouth to say something, but he continued:

"I—" Dave took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours again, so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "I didn’t notice because..." He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening slightly on your arm. "Because I never thought it was possible."

Your heart stopped for a second.

His eyes were locked on yours, and there was something so genuine there, something so true, that you felt your throat close up.

"I never thought you could like me."

The confession was soft, said with a half-smile that didn’t match the uncertainty shining in his eyes.

And in that moment, you realized.

You realized he wasn’t hesitating because he didn’t feel the same.

He was hesitating because he had always felt it.

Because he had always wanted it, but never thought he was allowed to want it.

You felt your breathing quicken, and the distance between you seemed smaller now, your bodies leaning in an almost imperceptible way, as if drawn to each other.

Dave blinked a few times, as if he were still trying to understand the reality of the situation. As if he were trying to memorize this moment, to store it somewhere safe inside himself.

And then, he laughed.

Soft, almost disbelieving.

"Shit." He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more, and shook his head. "I really am an idiot."

You let out a weak laugh, the nervousness still pulsing inside you, but now mixed with something else.

Something warm.

Something good.

Dave lowered his head for a moment, biting his lip before looking at you again, and then he did it again—that subtle movement of leaning closer. Not enough to break the last barrier between you, but enough for you to feel his warmth in the air, for every cell in your body to be aware of his presence.

"Tell me it’s not too late for me to notice now."

His tone was soft, but his eyes were intense, blue and fixed on you as if nothing else in the world existed.

And the answer came before you could even think.

"Of course it’s not."

[shineon3]

hi sarah! for the situations ask game

22 + 43 maxiel 👀

From here.

Hi tysh!! This was fun to write tbh ^^ so here's some Fake dating + Truth or dare maxiel for you ❤️

“Okay, yall, we’re playing truth or dare!”

Max winces, his groan drowned in the sea of cheers that erupt in the room. Trust Charles for wanting to play stupid drinking games.

Next to him, Daniel laughs, loud and unrestrained, like he always gets as soon as he’s just a little bit tipsy. 

Max watches the first rounds play out, thankfully being spared by the spinning bottle sitting in the middle of the table. He watches Franco awkwardly flirt with Lewis for a dare, cringes when Alex has to spill the beans about the infamous throat infection incident while George tries to get the earth to swallow him whole.

And then, just as he got comfortable being a spectator, the world sends him the biggest ‘fuck you’ ever uttered. 

“So, Max. Truth or dare, hm?”

There’s a dangerous glint in Charles’ eyes, and he swallows, throat clicking a bit too loudly. 

“Uh, truth, I guess?”

Charles’ smile widens, almost shark-like. Around them, the whole table falls silent.

“How did you and Daniel start dating?”

Max wonders if he can escape this if he slams his head hard enough against the table.

See, the thing is, Max and Daniel aren’t dating. Not really. It’s just that, at the beginning of the season, Charles, the paddock’s biggest gossip, had caught them sleeping in the same bed, something they did whenever one of them ended up being too tired after hanging out, and had drawn his own conclusions. Neither Max nor Daniel had denied it, thinking that Charles was just teasing them, but the Monegasque had spilled the beans to the whole grid, who now also believes they're dating. 

Daniel had laughed when he found out, and then shrugged.

“They’ll understand their mistake sooner or later, I reckon. It’s not like we’re actually dating, Maxy, right?”

It just had to come back and bite their asses.

Of course.

Max should have known.

“We’re- Charles, we’re not dating.”

“Don’t lie, Max, I saw you. Daniel was practically naked in your bed!”

Fuck. Daniel had been practically naked in his bed. But that’s only because he’s used to sleeping in his boxers! It’s not weird! 

Right?

Something tickles the shell of his ears, making him shiver. 

“Go on, Maxy. Be a good boy and tell ‘em how we started dating, hm? Or should I do that for you, darling?”

Daniel’s deep, crooning voice rumbles right against his ear, and Max can feel himself flush. The brunette’s arms wrap around his waist, under the cover of the table, playing with the hem of his shirt. Fuck. How could Max forget how touchy Daniel gets when drunk?

“I suppose it is acceptable, if you’re the one to tell us,” Charles' smile is somehow even wider. Max will be getting new, better friends, after this. “Spill the beans, Daniel.”

And Daniel does. He tells an elaborated story about the start of their supposed relationship, where he “seduces Max with his wild looks and gentleman manners”, whatever that might mean. Max doesn’t fully pay attention to it, especially when Daniel’s hands shift lower, dangerously close to where Max has been half hard for a while, the older’s curious hands roaming around his midsection coupled with the way Daniel spoke to him just a minute ago enough to rile him up. 

Okay, so. Max might have a tiny, itty bitty insignificant crush on his best friend. Might. He can’t help it if Daniel insists on looking like sex on legs whenever he wears clothes, if Daniel constantly crashes his bed because he “sleeps better on it”, if Daniel always invites him out for dinner, if-

“ - but if you’ll excuse us, I think Maxy and I have some things to do. Adios, losers.”

Max tunes back in just in time to get up when Daniel tugs at his arms, a big grin almost spreading his face in half. The brunette drags him out of the club and into a cab, tucking himself as close as physically possible to Max.

“We’re going back to my room, and unless you’re against it, I’m going to take my sweet time fucking you. Capiche?”

Max has never said yes to anything this fast. 

[leahrintarou]

heyyy!!! i've read through most of your writing and i'm legit obsessed. i know it says your not doing requests rn so if you end up doing this in like a year i don't really mind. could you do fwb for a fem!reader with yuji or some other jjk character? sfw or nsfw or suggestive i don't care, but that would be so cute!!

❀ FWB W/ YUJI ITADORI

synopsis: fwb with yuji, but you both catch feelings despite your promise not to. warnings: college au, barely suggestive, fluff, she/her pronouns, yuji being a cutie pie, "you up?" lol, 2.3k word count. an: the fact that this was in my inbox for so long and I've never gotten the chance to write it until now. so it was borderline ACTUALLY written a year later lmao. i hope you enjoy regardless :') my reqs are open now tho.

y/n’s phone buzzed against the nightstand, the glow of the screen breaking through the dim light of her room. she didn’t need to check—it was always him this late.

yuji: you up?

she stared at the message for a moment, lips pressed together in something between a smile and a sigh. these nights had become a pattern, one they never talked about in daylight, but neither of them seemed to want to stop. she typed back with one hand, the other resting lazily against her stomach.

y/n: door’s open.

it was an invitation, but it never felt like one. more like a habit. like breathing. she tossed her phone aside and leaned back against the pillows, the faint hum of the city outside her window mixing with the quiet of her dorm room. she tried to act like it was no big deal—like his visits didn’t make her pulse quicken, like she wasn’t already anticipating the sound of his footsteps in the hallway.

when the door finally creaked open after a few long minutes, she didn’t need to look up to know it was him. the soft shuffle of his sneakers being kicked off, the rustling of his hoodie as he peeled it over his head—familiar sounds that had started to feel like home in a way she wasn’t sure she liked.

“you always leave your door unlocked like that?” his voice was low, rough around the edges, like he’d been out in the cool night air for too long.

y/n glanced over, meeting his gaze. his hair was a little messy, strands falling over his forehead, and there was that easy grin tugging at his lips—the one that made it harder to keep this casual.

“yeah. for you,” she teased, though it came out softer than she intended.

he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, eyes dragging over her—bare legs stretched out under the blanket, her oversized shirt slipping just enough to reveal a hint of collarbone. his gaze lingered, but it wasn’t just lust. there was something else. something warmer.

“dangerous habit,” he muttered, but he was already moving toward her, the weight of his steps making the floor creak in that way she’d come to expect.

he sat at the edge of the bed first, like he always did, his thigh brushing against hers through the blanket. his presence was heavy but not suffocating—it was comforting, in that messy, boyish way only yuji could pull off.

“long day?” she asked, her voice quieter now, more familiar.

he nodded, leaning back on his hands, eyes flicking to the ceiling for a moment before settling back on her. “yeah… thought this might help.”

it was honest. it always was with him. that’s what made it hard sometimes.

she shifted closer, the blanket pooling around her waist, their legs barely touching. his eyes dropped to her bare skin, but he didn’t move—not yet. he was waiting, like he always did, for her to close the gap.

her fingers brushed against his, slow, testing. he didn’t pull away. he never did.

“yeah?” she murmured.

his eyes met hers—warm, familiar, but laced with something heavier. “yeah.”

and just like that, the space between them started to disappear.

-----

the next morning came around and y/n was surprised to feel a weight around her waist. she wasn’t expecting it, but she also didn’t mind it. in fact, she craved it. and that feeling alone made her stomach twist with a deep sense of shame.

yuji’s arm was heavy, draped over her like it belonged there, his chest pressed against her back, warm and steady. his breathing was soft, even, still lost in sleep. she could feel his heartbeat against her spine, and for a moment, she let herself sink into it—let herself enjoy the comfort of his presence without overthinking what it meant.

but it was hard not to.

they promised to keep it casual. no strings, no expectations. just late-night texts and fleeting touches when the weight of their lives became too much. it was supposed to be simple. but the moment he stayed that first night—exhausted from his assignments, passing out before he could pull his clothes back on—that simplicity started to unravel.

it kept happening after that. once turned into twice. twice turned into something like a routine. and now, she woke up more often with him here than without.

it scared her. but it also made her feel safe in a way she hadn’t expected.

she shifted slightly under his arm, trying not to wake him, but he stirred anyway. his hand tightened instinctively around her waist, fingers pressing into the curve of her stomach. he let out a low, sleepy groan, face nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

“n/n… it's too early,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

y/n froze for a second, but then she relaxed, forcing a quiet laugh. “you say that every time.”

he grinned against her skin, eyes still closed. “’cause it’s always true.”

his fingers brushed against her bare skin beneath the hem of her shirt—his shirt, she realized with a flush of heat. sometime during the night, she must’ve grabbed it from the pile of clothes he left here. another bad habit. another line blurred.

she shifted to face him, their noses nearly brushing. his eyes finally cracked open, warm and soft in the early light. there was no teasing smirk this time, no playful comment. just him, looking at her like he was exactly where he wanted to be.

and that was the problem.

“you gotta get up soon?” he asked, voice quieter now.

she shook her head, trying to ignore the way her heart twisted. “nah… you?”

he hesitated, then shrugged. “not really.”

they stayed like that, neither moving, both pretending this wasn’t more than it was.

but it felt like more. it felt like too much.

her chest tightened with the weight of it, but she swallowed it down. because if she said something—if she admitted that maybe she liked waking up next to him, that maybe she liked him more than she should—it would ruin this. whatever this was.

so, she smiled instead, reaching up to brush his messy hair out of his face. “guess you’re stuck with me a little longer then.”

his grin returned, but it was softer this time. “good. i like being stuck with you.”

y/n was used to yuji’s honesty, especially when it came to him expressing his feelings in friendships, but for some reason, she felt like this was different. y/n blamed her exhaustion, blurry brain, and lack of caffeine for these thoughts. yuji was always friendly to pretty much everyone so why would she be an exception? "y/n." yuji's voice sounded as if it faded in and when she looked at his expression of confusion, she realized that he had probably called her name more than once.

"sorry i spaced out."

"i can see that." he laughed teasingly. "are you done spacing out now?"

"probably not, but what's up?" she questioned. yuji was quiet for a moment. very out of the ordinary. there was a nervous smile on his lips and y/n’s anxiety only heightened at his unusual behavior. "i was contemplating last night and i came over here to you to finally make a decision..." he started. y/n could hear her own heartbeat and she hoped that it wasn't loud enough for yuji to hear too. what excuse could she use to give reasoning behind her fast pacing heartbeat?

"which was?" she asked, voice just above a whisper. "i think we should call this whole friends with benefits thing off. not because of you or anything. i just made a shitty mistake that i can't undo no matter how hard i try."

y/n was silent and it felt piercing. what could his reasoning be? what if he caught onto her recent behavior when it came to her interactions with him? extended eye contact, those poor excuses to create physical contact, or even the need to speak to him about anything and everything. he probably reassured her and took the blame to soften the blow of this sudden conversation.

"do you mind telling me what that mistake was?"

yuji sat up, the blanket falling from his body and revealing his bare half. y/n took a glance at him before her eyes darted back up to his eyes. yuji turned away, embarrassment all over his features. "I'd put a shirt on...but.." he smiled nodding towards the shirt that y/n was currently wearing. she would've given it to him in a heartbeat if it weren't for the fact that she wore nothing underneath. "no it's fine. I'm sorry. i can go change into my own and give it back-"

"no, no. seriously its fine. i like when you wear my clothes." he smiled. his words came out with that familiar teasing sounding tone and y/n felt a wave of butterflies in her stomach. "but to answer your question, i kinda sorta broke our no strings attached rule."

y/n felt as if her ears were playing tricks on her but when’s yuji continued, she couldn't deny what was being spoken right in front of her. "i definitely have some strings attached. i know it's sudden and we both agreed to not let it happen but you know..."

y/n’s heart raced as yuji’s words lingered in the air, and for a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence. she could see the nervousness creeping into his eyes, the way he shifted slightly, as if unsure of himself.

she had always been able to read him, but this time, something was different. something was off. yuji’s usual confidence seemed to be faltering, and it made her hesitate. she wanted to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come.

“y/n?” he said quietly, voice tinged with uncertainty. his gaze dropped to her lips, then quickly shifted away. “i know this is sudden, and i’m probably messing things up. i get it if you don’t feel the same, but...”

y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she processed his words. did he really think she didn’t feel the same? wasn’t it obvious by now? all the lingering touches, the way her heart fluttered when he was near. but still, a part of her hesitated. did he really want this? or was this just another one of those moments where they both pretended to be okay with the casual thing, despite everything?

she shifted slightly, her body inching closer to him. the tension between them thickened. yuji’s eyes flicked back to hers, and there it was again—self-doubt. he thought she didn’t want him back.

she wanted to kiss him. her body screamed for it. but her mind was still tangled in confusion, in fear of ruining the fragile space they had created. she stayed frozen, her lips parted slightly as she debated whether or not to make the first move.

yuji noticed. he must've seen it in her eyes—the hesitation, the uncertainty—and his face softened with a hint of frustration, but also something deeper. something vulnerable.

“y/n...” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. he reached out, gently cupping her chin to bring her face closer to his. “i told you... i like you. not just as a friend. i’ve liked you for a while now. i wouldn’t have stayed over... i wouldn’t have kept coming back if it was just some casual thing for me.”

her heart skipped a beat. the words he had said, so simple and clear, finally broke through her hesitation. he liked her back. she had been afraid—afraid to be too obvious, afraid to let him see the depth of what she felt. but now, hearing him say it, hearing the sincerity in his voice, it was impossible to deny.

without thinking, y/n leaned in, closing the small gap between them. her lips brushed against his softly at first, testing, as if still unsure. but then yuji’s hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

it was urgent but soft, and it quickly deepened, growing more desperate with every passing second. his hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer, his body pressing against hers as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she kissed him back, a mix of emotions flooding her—relief, desire, something warmer she hadn’t expected. the kiss was messy, full of unspoken words, and every time she felt him pull away for a breath, he came right back to her, as if there was no place else he wanted to be.

yuji moaned into their kiss, feeling as though it was the first and last time he'd ever get to experience something so exhilarating. she pulled back and yuji practically chased after her lips for a small peck. his eyes found her own and y/n slightly tilted her head to the side.

y/n smiled softly, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw as she looked into his eyes, now filled with the same longing she felt. “you’re not messing this up, yuji," she whispered, her voice a little shaky but filled with certainty. "you were never just some casual thing to me."

yuji’s smile returned, but it was softer, more vulnerable this time. “so... we’re not just friends with benefits anymore, then?”

“no,” she murmured, her lips curling into a small, genuine smile. “not anymore.”

his grin widened at that, a playful spark dancing in his eyes. “good,” he said, leaning in for another kiss, this one slower, but no less filled with all the things they hadn’t said yet.

and this time, y/n didn’t hesitate. she let herself get lost in it. especially when his warm hand snaked underneath her his shirt.

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

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated <3

got a request in mind? send it in! :)

[sweetdispatch]

https://www.tumblr.com/sweetdispatch/776300941286703104/v-bakery-500-celly

hi can I pls request a 7 piece warm apple pie with passionfruit ice cream and crushed almonds? thank you!

Bad mother - N. Hischier

v' bakery pairing: Nico Hischier x fem!reader summary: After having a baby, you and Nico started trying for another one until your mind was covered in worry warning: NSFW, graphic sex (+18), oral (f receiving)

Two years ago, you and Nico welcomed your first child. It has been the best two years of your and Nico’ life. Your daughter brought a lot of happiness to your life and made you fall in love again with Nico. You two always had been talking about having a big family but when you and Nico started trying for another kid, you became scared. 

You played along, acting like you still want it but deep down, the kid made you change your mind. You felt like a bad mother and started overthinking every little mistake you’ve made. All the worries were pointless because you were the best mother for your daughter but you were scared that with a new kid, you might abandon the older one. 

One day, Nico returned home and placed a loving kiss on your lips. Your daughter was already asleep so you two had a night for each other. He started roaming his big hands on your body and you pulled from him. This move alarmed him that something’s off with you. 

“What happened?” Nico asked you to look at your face and read every emotion from it. 

“I’m scared Nico” There was no turn back. You took a deep breath and continued. “I’m scared to get pregnant again. I’m scared that with the new kid, I’ll forget about our daughter and won’t be a good mother for her. I was thinking about this lately since you brought up the conversation and I already feel not good enough for her” 

Nico looked at you with worry written on his face. He felt like he failed you in showing that you’re the best mother for your kid. His mind couldn’t understand why you are thinking this way about yourself. For him, you were a wonderful mother and wanted to have more kids with you. 

“Where is this coming from? You're a great mother so what’s with the worries?” Nico asked you and placed his hands on your waist. 

“I don’t want to be responsible for ruining our kid because we have another…” Before you could continue, Nico put a finger on your lips to make you stop talking. When you closed your mouth, he spoke.

“You’re prettier with your mouth shut, especially when you’re saying nonsense like you just did. You’re wonderful mother to our daughter and another kid won’t change it. Yes, your focus will be on the newborn but you’ll never abandon our daughter. Let me show you how much I adore you for everything you’re doing” Nico pulled you into a kiss and carried you into a bedroom. 

Nico sat down on the bed and you sat down on his knees. Gently, he took off your shirt and started admiring your breast in a bra. He went lower with his kisses, placing them on your jawline and neck. You threw your head so he could have a better access. Your hands went into his hair and slightly you pulled them. 

Softly, Nico placed you on a bed so you could lay on your back. He started going lower with kisses, whispering cute and meaningful things to you. With every word, you were blushing like crazy. Nico always made sure you felt good but today, he was worshipping you. He took off your sweatpants and panties in one, motion move. He placed one last kiss on your belly and gently spread your legs apart. 

No matter how many times Nico saw you naked, it always amazed him how amazing a body you have especially after giving birth. For him, you were the prettiest and hottest woman alive. He stopped his moves and looked at you for a minute. 

“I could look at you whole day and whole night and never get bored of this view. I mean, wow. You look absolutely insane and only for my eyes” Nico said and kneeled in between your legs. 

Nico started placing kisses on your inner thighs before he kissed your pussy. He was delicate in his moves, and didn't want to rush things. Just wanted to show you how wonderful a woman you are and all your worries are pointless. He took the time with you. He didn’t want to just give an orgasm. He wanted you to feel appreciated. 

It was an act full of love. You felt his every touch on you. You became a mess under him and were moaning like crazy. Nico knew all your sweet spots and wanted to give you the most pleasure he could. He was eating you out and your hands went into his hair. You were slightly pulling them while enjoying this like never. All your worries were long forgotten. Now, it was all about you and him. 

Nico added a finger into you to bring you closer to the edge. He was well aware that you won’t last long and wanted to give you the most. His other hand was firmly laying on your thigh so you couldn’t close them. You arched your back from the pleasure. Not long after, you cum around his lips. You felt drained from the energy. 

You tried to catch your breath when Nico lied next to you and pulled you closer to hug you. You two laid like that for a couple of minutes until he spoke. 

“I don’t want you to feel forced to have another kid. If you’re not ready, I understand it but please, never say that you’re a bad mother. I couldn’t picture anyone better as a mother for our kid” Nico softly said. You smiled at his words. 

“I want another one but maybe not now. Can we wait a little longer until I settle down with my emotions?” You asked him, already knowing the answer. 

“Always” Nico kissed your cheek. “Now, go to sleep. It’s already after your bedtime” He joked and you cuddled him.

[rose-writes-for-march]

March for More: An itch...

MASTERPOST

As the CEO of Wayne Industries, Tim Drake has a responsibility to keep an eye on the competition. Which, for the most part, means meetings and galas and back-and-forth emails. Honestly, he doesn't even do that much personally due to the efforts of his secretary and other employees.

Though, reluctantly, Tim’s been keeping a very close eye on his newest… rival in the business. The Godson of one Vladimir Masters of Vladco; Daniel Fenton. The company photo of him was a worrying sight on its own, without considering how strange it was as the only photo Tim could find of the guy. No school photos, online presence, or signs of life other than his place as Masters godson and future owner of Vladco. The guy hadn’t made much noise, nothing big or worthy enough for Tim’s attention, and yet… well. Tim had an itch. A gut feeling.

So, he stalked researched Daniel’s life, compiled a too small file, and invited the boy and his guardian to a gala. Tim couldn’t say it was a good idea—it wasn’t even a fully formed idea by the time he hit send on the email to Vladco—but he found it better to be hasty than to find himself unprepared when shit hit the fan.

The first thing Tim noticed when the two arrived at the gala was Daniel's appearance. If Daniel had looked sickly in his Vladco photo, he looked dead in real life. The second thing he noticed were the hunched shoulders, the fisted hands, the lowered eyes, and the... fear that encompassed him as he was forced to stay by his godfather's side throughout the party.

Cass sent him a look and he nodded to show he was on the same page. If Tim didn't need her help to see it, either Daniel was bad at hiding it or too tired to try. Mind made up, he figured it was about time to talk to the recipients of his personal invitation.

As he approached, it didn't take long for Masters to notice him. Tim watched as he squeezed his godson's shoulder—too hard if the wince Daniel gave was any sign, though if Masters noticed, he didn't seem to care for any discomfort he caused. "Ah, if it isn't the CEO himself. A pleasure, Mr. Drake-Wayne. We thank you for the invitations, don't we, Daniel."

The words must have carried more weight than Tim knew of, for Daniel winced in blatant pain but forced himself to look up and nod at Tim anyway. It was a shaky thing; hardly a nod more than a harsh jerk of his head, and if Tim wasn't worried before, he was now.

"A pleasure indeed, Mr. Masters. I must admit I have some... ulterior motives for your invitations, if you don't mind me being so bold?" Tim laughed, lifting the drinks he'd brought from the catering and offering one to Masters.

Masters took it happily, though he didn't drink. "I am no stranger to boldness; after all, my Daniel is a spitfire of a boy. Do tell."

If the guy hadn't been standing right there looking like all of fifty pounds soaking wet and a wrong step away from finding out what a concussion is—though he may already have one—Tim might have thought Masters was talking of someone else.

Tim grinned nonetheless, giving a subtle signal behind his back where he knew two of his family were watching. "Fantastic! You see, I've been working on things behind the scenes of WI and... I wouldn't mind some of Vladco's particular expertise."

At this, Daniel's head shot up with a look of absolute horror, and Tim was startled back as he looked between them. Masters squeezed his shoulder again, a warning no doubt, and Daniel reluctantly looked away again. Masters laughed it off before Tim could even question, "Ah, don't mind him. He's been feeling unwell, is all."

Tim hummed, taking it as a chance to inspect Daniel without it being weird. The boy was haggard, his eyes were wide, and he seemed to be whispering to himself though Tim couldn't hear more than the air escaping his lips. "Maybe he should go sit down or get some water? This conversation would be better without... distractions, anyway."

Masters seemed reluctant, but with a look between the two, his hand lifted from Daniel's shoulder and with it some of the tension. "Go. Do not stray from my sight; I worry." Masters said, eyes narrow and voice a warning despite what Tim thought was supposed to be care.

They watched as Daniel walked away, shaky-footed and slow, but as soon as he made it to the catering table, Tim dove back into the conversation.

Slowly but surely as the conversation continued, Tim carried them further and further from Daniel, subsequently turning them so that Tim was facing the catering and Masters back was to it. Once Masters was fully turned away, Tim signaled the others.

Tim mentally apologized to Daniel for sicking his siblings on him when he was clearly sick, but he wasn't too sorry if it meant getting him away from what was clearly his abuser. Though... it felt too easy. The itch was back; had never really left.

Something was still wrong here.