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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

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Late Bloomer 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Peter Parker, Steve Rogers (Professor AU)

Summary: you start your second year of university but as the workload grows more intense, you start to feel your age. (mid-30s reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all.

You are as ever painfully early. It's a habit that often leaves you wandering or hovering awkwardly. You check your watch as you come up to the steps of the century-old building. You are in dread of your physics class but it turns out that all the easy electives fill up fast.

Before you can start the ascent, there's a scuff of steps from the other side. The breadth of the stairs nearly spans a third of the grand facade. You glance over as a young man with a messenger bag rushes up the first few steps only to trip and sprawl over the concrete stairs with an oomph. Without hesitation, you rush over as he groans and clatters back to the bottom.

"Oh my gosh, are you alright?" You scoop up the phone that flew from his hand, seemingly the cause of his accident.

He grunts and struggles to turn himself over, clutching his chest as he can't even get a word out. You know exactly what's happened. You rub his back through his burgundy jacket and give a gentle lat.

"Ah, you're fine, honey, you just got the wind knocked out of ya."

He nods and gulps, a spiral of his reddish brown hair falling down his forehead. His dark eyes meet yours, their panicked sheen softening as his lips tremble in an attempt at a smile.

"Thanks," he rasps at last.

You pull your arm back and offer him your phone.

"That was quite the tumble," you stand straight and extend your hand. He takes it and hauls himself up.

"Yeah, this dang thing," he wiggles his cell and tucks it away in his jacket, "always getting me in trouble."

You smile nervously and your eyes drift down as he favours one leg. There's a red splotch growing on his khakis. You pop your brows up in concern.

"Er, think you got yourself good." You point and he looks down.

"God! I knew I shouldn't have worn these ones. I told May, dark colours!"

"Baking soda, maybe a bit of club soda," you assure him. "I got bandaids in my bag."

"You-- do?" He's surprised.

"Can never be too prepared," you smile. "Um, I guess..

We're in the way."

You glance around as you sense bodies heading up the steps, a few glancing your way.

"Uh, yeah, why don't we head inside," he takes a ginger step. "Uh, typical. My first day."

"It'll get better," you say.

"Hm, yeah, I guess it already has," he grins at you before he turns back up the steps.

"You need help?" You ask.

"No, no, I'm not a total disaster," he chuckles. "So," he clears his throat as you catch up to him, "what do you teach?"

"Oh," you repress a strike of embarrassment. Of course he would assume you're a professor, or a TA at the very least. It's obvious you have a few years on him and most of your classmates. "I'm a student."

"Nice," he nods, "wait, oh, gee, I didn't mean to imply-- ah, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine. It's my second year. First year all the freshmen called me mom," you shake your head. "But that might be the bandaids in my bag."

"Maybe," he stops and squints, "right..." he points his finger around as he thinks, "this way."

You let him guide you. You don't need to be in class for another half hour. You follow him up to the second floor. That's where your class will be. Convenient.

When he stops at a door and digs around in his pocket, your heart drops. You look up at the room number as he takes out a set of keys and unlocks the door. You chew on your dismay.

He lets you in ahead of him. You wait patiently and he heads up to the podium. He leans on the table next to it as he unhooks his bag from over his shoulder. He sighs and peers down at his knee.

The pulls up the fabric and hisses. You approach as you sift through your bag. He bends his leg as he looks at the scrape. It's not that bad.

You take out the little pack of alcohol wipe from the little emergency pouch. How many times have you played mother hen to drunk coeds? You're prepared for it all.

"Wow, you got everything in that magic bag," he teases.

You squat down and wipe the blood away. As you peel the bandaid wrapper away, you scoff, "I'm a pack horse. Utterly terrified of forgetting anything important."

You cover the cut and run your fingers across the bandage to make sure it sticks. He winces.

"Sorry," you apologise as you stand and crumple up the wipe and wrapper.

You search around for the garbage and toss the waste. You fish again in your bag and take out your sanitizer. You squirt it onto your palm and drop it back through the open zipper. Your rub your hands together as he pulls his pantleg back down.

"Well, since you got my blood on your hands, I guess you should get a name too," he chuckles, "I'm Peter. Er, Professor Parker. Still getting used to that."

He offers his hand and you shake it, "Olive."

"Olive. Pretty. Er, interesting. Oh no," he pulls back, "I went through sensitivity training. Can I say that?"

"It's fine, professor. I'm not overly fond of the name myself," you shrug.

"Right, well," he bends his arm and tugs up his sleeve to check his apple watch. "I hope I didn't make you late."

"Well, actually, funny story," you scratch the side of your neck, "I'm enrolled in Physics 2."

He tilts his head and his lips part on disbelief, "you're joking."

"Nah, it's not exactly my favourite subject but I'll do my best," you say, "but er, if you need to get set up, I can wait in the hall."

"What? No. You're early. Make sure you get the best seat," he insists. "I will say the front row is where you wanna be but I was a student not too long ago and I won't be insulted if you sit in the back."

You laugh, "well, you know, I'm a late bloomer and these ears aren't so good." You kid, "front row's fine with me."

His grin lingers, awkwardly as his forehead lines and he tries to come up with a response. You smile, "I'll go sit down."

You give a little wave and go to find a seat. You settle in with your bag in your lap and slid out your notebook and the box of fresh pens. You tried your laptop for notes but you just find your eyes hurt from the blue light.

You tuck your bag under your seat and unfold the small desk from the arm rest. As you peel back the cover of your notebook, your ears tingle. You glance over as Peter-- Professor Parker, peeks at you. You give a tense smile and pull out a pen, putting your focus back to your notebook.

At least if you do crappy, you might be able to charm yourself into at least a passing grade.

#peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #spider-man #captain america #avengers #au #bad professors #mcu #marvel #late bloomer

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tickly-tufts · 8 months ago

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Progression

aka 2 times angel didn't tickle husk + 1 time he did (with implied timeskips to different stages of closeness)

—

“Did you just… giggle?”

Husk flushed at the question, ears folding back as soon as Angel released them. Angel had only wanted to see how they felt. Husk himself had allowed it… until he realized…

His ears were ticklish. Especially the insides, where Angel’s attention inevitably wandered. Husk had kept it together for an entire 5 seconds before Angel’s thumbs were sweeping over the hearts.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned after, scowling to cover up his embarrassment. He braced for a taunt, or a real attempt at tickling… only for Angel to back off entirely.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t meant anything by it!” Angel soothed with the offending hands raised. “Thanks for lettin’ me touch ‘em, though. They’re really soft!”

Husk blinked, bewildered.

“Uh… sure… but don’t expect this again. It was one-time deal.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

With the subject settled far more easily than expected, Husk returned to his work… oddly unsatisfied.

—

“Ears and wings?” Angel marveled, remarkably unfazed about being on the floor. Mere moments ago, he’d been on top of Husk, enjoying the purrs rumbling through his chest.

Once again, it had been an accident. Angel had meant to grab the blanket. At some point, though, Husk had spread his wings, and thus Angel’s fingers burrowed right into feathers.

Husk squealed, which was adorable, even after he flung Angel off the bed. His face betrayed both shock and confusion, which soon made way for mortification. “I didn’t- Are you-” He was clearly flustered, and Angel considered teasing him about it… but he’d promised to stop pushing Husk’s boundaries, and he didn’t want to risk whatever it was they had.

“All good here!” Angel assured, crossing his legs as he sat up. “If I swear to keep my hands off the wings, will ya let me back up there?“ He already missed the warmth.

At his question, though, Husk’s expression took a turn. Angel froze when he thought he spotted… disappointment?

Then it was gone, replaced by a frown.

“Yeah, yeah, just… no more surprises.”

—

“ANGEL YOU- FUHUHUCK!”

“Pfft, I sure do, but let’s save that for later~” It was a corny comeback even for Angel, but his captive audience couldn’t help but laugh. “Are the paws actually worse than the wings?“ He scratched the yellow center of one heart-shaped pad. Husk immediately screeched, leg nearly jerking free. “Damn! I’ll take that as a yes!”

Three times, Angel had tickled Husk. Three times, he’d stumbled on a weak-spot by accident. Two times, he’d chosen to play it safe… but by the third time, he knew what had to be done. Holding Husk’s ankles with his lower set of hands, Angel wiggled the fingers of his upper set for show. “I promised ya the full massage treatment, though, and I’d just hate to break a promise!”

“You’re the worst, you know that?!” Husk covered his face, refusing to look Angel in the eye. It didn’t escape Angel’s notice, however, that he wasn’t fighting the grip on his legs.

“Aww, don’t act like y’don’t love me,” Angel countered because he could. “And obviously I love you, so try not to kick me in the face, alright?”

Husk nearly did when Angel’s fingers made contact, squeezing and rubbing at both of his paws. The tops and sides weren’t so bad on their own, but those damned yellow hearts were unbearable. He could only cackle as Angel’s thumbs pressed in, massaging the pads in the most ticklish way possible. Hoping to both hide and muffle himself, Husk grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved it over his face.

“C’mon, Husky, no need to be shy,” Angel cooed reassuringly. When Husk simply pretended not to hear him, Angel made a decision, crawling up the bed. Husk’s furry body tensed beneath him, but only enough to indicate he’d been noticed. Once Angel was close enough, he readied his arms, waiting just a beat before he struck.

Husk jumped when he felt a hand on each wing, jolting when they started to card through his feathers. In the same moment, Angel grabbed the pillow, flinging it away before pinning Husk’s wrists.

“Wha- Shit! NohoHOHO!” Husk’s wings flapped uselessly against the bed. Angel had started tickling them in earnest, scribbling right through the layer of patterned plumage.

“Ya look so cute!” Angel gushed, admiring Husk’s helpless grin up-close. When Husk turned his head, bashful at the attention, Angel didn’t hesitate to pepper his cheek with kisses. Husk’s fur concealed the resulting blush, but the movement of his ears still gave him away. Not only that, but it reminded Angel that he still hadn’t revisited his very first discovery.

Finally extending his third pair of arms, Angel passed Husk’s wrists down as he himself climbed up. His second pair landed on either side of Husk’s head, supporting his weight and leaving his first pair free. Husk’s eyes widened at the new arrangement, gaze shooting upwards in search of Angel’s. Husk found his line of sight blocked, however, by none other than the spider’s iconic chest fluff.

Soon enough, though, he felt it. Two fingers per ear, scritching lightly and playfully over red and white fuzz. His ears twitched madly beneath Angel’s ministrations as the rest of him was seized by a fit of giggles.

“Now ya sound cute, too!” Angel teased, though it was also a statement of fact. Husk’s uncharacteristic giggling was addictively adorable. “Wonder what’ll happen if I just-“

“NEHEHEEHEEE!”

Angel had been leaning down as he spoke, mouth drawing closer to Husk’s left ear. He’d moved his hand to cup said ear from the back, and then… he’d started nibbling.

It tickled. It really tickled. It was unfair how much it tickled. Husk thought he’d combust when Angel switched ears, giving his right the exact same treatment. The spider's pointed teeth were evil, prickling gently around the edges.

“OKAY! OHOKAHAHAY!” he ultimately cried out. “S-STOHOHOP!”

And Angel did.

“Alright there, Whiskers?” he checked to be safe, releasing Husk's arms to cradle his face. It would've been easy for Husk to throw him off, but instead, Husk did the opposite. Angel oomfed when he was pulled down, falling into their usual snuggling position.

"...Thanks," Husk mumbled into Angel's hair, sensing the giddy smile he couldn't see from that angle.

#*throws this at the hazbin tickles community and runs*#lee!husk was simply too cute to resist #hazbin hotel #huskerdust #husk #angel dust #tickling #a tickly fic

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aquaquadrant · 1 year ago

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I’m in LOVE with your Hels to pay au!! Thank you so much for writing it!!

Has anyone ever asked Tango about his cuffs? Has anyone offered/tried to help him get them off? I imagine it would either be a funny montage of increasingly wild attempts OR just absolutely heartbreaking.

(sooo funny story, i saved the first ask in january bc i wanted to write smth for it… but then the second one came in before i got around to it… then the third… so uh. yeah. here ya go.)

~*~

“i like your cuffs, by the way.”

tango freezes, and even though xisuma has only just met the guy, he can immediately tell something’s off.

hermitcraft’s newest member is far from ordinary; a blaze hybrid with sharp teeth and blackened claws, red eyes that dart around nervously and squint at the sun, like it’s too bright. he didn’t even seem to know what a golden carrot was, when xisuma gave one to him.

the shackles around his wrists are just the frosting on the cake. xisuma had assumed it was part of his, er… unconventional style. but tango’s reaction- and the small links of broken chain still dangling from the cuffs- make xisuma wonder.

“what… uh, what do you mean?” tango asks, his tone forcibly light. oh, he’s anxious- ears flat, shoulders hunched likes he’s expecting an attack.

xisuma shrugs. “your cuffs, they’re just really metal,” he says casually. “it’s a cool look, is all.”

“oh.” tango blinks. the relief is evident in his expression, but he only relaxes slightly. “oh, right! thanks.”

while xisuma hasn’t been the admin of hermitcraft for very long, he’s been around long enough to tell when a player is running from something. but that’s none of his business. that’s why they come here, isn’t it?

“anyway,” xisuma says, “that’s about the end of the tour.” he lifts a hand to put on tango’s shoulder, then thinks better of it, folding his arms instead. “you just lemme know if you need anythin’, alright? anythin’ at all.”

“right, yeah.” tango smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “thanks, i’ll- i’ll keep that in mind, yeah.”

~*~

“jeeze, you ever take those cuffs off?”

tango freezes, and even though impulse is still relatively new here on hermitcraft, he can immediately tell he’s crossed a line.

it’s only been a couple weeks since a random portal abruptly appeared in front of impulse, taking him to a world called hermitcraft. according to his fellow hermits, that amounted to an invitation from the universe- which is how they all join.

he’s spent most of his time working on a quadruple witch hut farm with some of the other redstoners, and tango’s been a bit of a puzzle. he’ll be standoffish or even outright defensive at times, but then seem inexplicably drawn towards impulse, asking strange and not-so-subtle probing questions. of course, whenever impulse tries to address this, tango brushes him off.

“oh, these old things?” tango says after a moment, his brief panic quickly swept under the rug as he flaunts his cuffs. “why, do you- am i not pulling them off? too much?”

“no, no, they’re cool!” impulse assures him. “it’s just, don’t they get in the way when you’re doing delicate redstone work? seems like a bother, that’s all.”

tango huffs a laugh, but he’s also eyeing the nearest exit. “nah, man, th- it’s part of my look! my uh, my brand, as some might say. can’t go without ‘em, you know how it is…”

that’s not the reason. impulse can tell. but whatever the real reason is, it’s not his place to push tango to talk about it. they’re still getting to know each other, so if it’s anything more than a simple fashion choice, impulse is sure he’ll find out sooner or later.

“ooh, okay, gotcha.” impulse nods sagely. “branding, very important. well, if you ever change your mind, i’d be happy to take them off your hands- uh, literally and figuratively, i guess,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “cuffs are pretty ‘in’ for demons, you know.”

tango laughs too, though he’s already turning away, back to his work. “right, yeah, i- i’ll keep that in mind.”

~*~

“can you actually not take these cuffs off?”

tango freezes, and even without the spike of panic through their soulbond, jimmy can immediately tell he’s said something wrong.

it’s been about a month since the double lifers voted to end the death game. one month since jimmy and tango made their relationship official. and as amazing and wonderful as it’s been living on the ranch, jimmy’s starting to get the sense there are a few things he doesn’t know about tango.

he hadn’t meant anything by the question- just genuine curiosity. they were kissing, tango’s hands cupping jimmy’s face, and when he’d reached up to cover tango’s hands with his own he’d felt the cool metal of the cuffs, and the question just blurted out from his mind. gosh, he really does ruin everything.

tango recovers quickly. “whaaat, you don’t like ‘em?” he grins, casually stretching his arms above his head so the cuffs jangle around his wrists.

jimmy hesitates. the panic he felt through their bond has faded, but that doesn’t mean it’s not still there “well, sure, it’s just- y’know, i realized i’ve never seen you take ‘em off.”

tango blinks. “you- what, don’t you think if i wanted to take them off, i would’ve?” he laughs, putting his hands on his hips. “i mean, it’s not- we have metal-cutting technology, you know.”

oh, duh. jimmy feels silly. tango is far from helpless- if those cuffs hadn’t been a conscious decision, he surely would’ve figured out how to take them off by now. or, jeeze, he could’ve asked anyone on his server full of technical geniuses to help out.

“right, right, of course,” he says sheepishly. “sorry, i wasn’t- i do like how they look, i- i was just wonderin’. but uh, you know, if you ever did wanna take ‘em off… i mean, i’d still like you plenty without them,” he jokes.

“you’re good, you’re good,” tango hums, draping his arms around jimmy’s shoulders. “i’ll keep that in mind.”

~*~

tango sits alone in his room, claws curled around the cuff of his other hand.

it’s just simple iron. it wouldn’t be hard. all he has to do is reach for his inner fire, concentrate, and let the metal soften in his grasp. even if he heats it too much- so that molten iron drips over his skin like water- he’s a bit more fire resistant than the average player, he’d be fine. it’d only take a couple seconds for each one, and then he’d be free of them. forever.

it’s been nearly ten years, for hel’s sake. he’s lost count of how many times he’s been in this exact situation before, wanting and willing so much but being unable to bring the flames to his fingertips. if he even thinks about it, it’s suddenly like he’s back in the farm, icy wither rose numbing his veins, a haunting voice ringing in his ears.

‘just the cuffs on his wrists there, and he stays put like the good creature he is.��

tango wants to be good. he’s been trying so hard to be good. but what if he can’t trust himself? what if the only thing stopping him from reverting back to his old ways is the illusion of control maintained by these shackles?

who is he without them? would he be someone that his friends still cared about? would jimmy?

he’s too afraid to find out.

tango lets go of the cuff, the familiar weight of metal dropping back onto his wrist. he can try again another time. so long as he has his fire, he still has the option. he’ll do it someday.

so for now, the thought retreats to its little shadowed corner in the back of his mind, safe for another day.

~*~

#hels to pay au #HTP ask #HTP fic #my writing #if the ppl who sent these are still around y’all are legends

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hrh-prince-butt · 1 year ago

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alex and henry plan to dress up as barbie and ken for an upcoming costume party, but they can't seem to agree on who should be barbie and who should be ken...

(hello this is possibly the dumbest thing i've ever written, and i have no regrets, it was so much fun to write)

“You can’t deny the Kenergy, babe.”

“You’re right,” Henry shoots back. “I can’t. And if anyone has it, it’s you.”

Alex crosses his arms and glares stubbornly at Henry. Henry glares right back, just as goddamn stubborn. Looks like they’re in a stalemate.

There was no argument that they absolutely had to dress up as Barbie and Ken for their couples costume this year. It had practically been telepathically agreed upon before they even left the cinema. Apparently, the hard part is agreeing on who should dress up as who.

Alex had thought it was obvious that he should be Barbie. But when he brought up speculations about his costume - should he copy an outfit from the movie or figure out something of his own? - Henry had frowned and said he thought he was supposed to be Barbie.

“Just face it, sweetheart,” Alex says, patting Henry on the shoulder. “You are clearly the Ken to my Barbie.”

Henry huffs. “How am I the Ken to your Barbie?”

“Well.” Alex leans back on the couch and gestures to himself. “I’m the successful career person, and you are my hot blond accessory. Obviously.”

“Unbelievable,” Henry says. He sounds genuinely offended. “David, are you hearing this?” David the Beagle lifts his head lazily at the sound of his name, but finding no imminent threat and no promise of treats, he goes back to napping on the couch.

“All this time,” Henry goes on, and Alex can tell he’s really amping up the theatrics now, probably working up to a dramatic monologue of some kind. “I thought you liked me because of my intelligence, my wit. I thought I was more than just a pretty face, but no. Apparently I’m just some attractive himbo boytoy to you. Utterly unbelievable.”

He punctuates this absolute scene with a very undramatic bite of chocolate chip cookie. This batch is his third attempt, and Alex has to admit they aren’t terrible. They are overbaked and therefore rock hard - Henry’s annoyed chewing can probably be heard halfway down the street - but they’re already miles better than the last batch. Alex thinks it best not to speak of the last batch.

“I can’t believe you just called yourself a ‘himbo boytoy’.” Alex is wheezing with laughter, and Henry’s stubborn chewing, his failing attempt to look dramatically offended while crunching on a cookie the texture of a brick, only makes it harder to stop laughing. “Those are your words, not mine.”

He deigns not to mention that while he has been busy with important law shit all week, Henry has been busy baking cookies. And being really bad at it. That’s definitely Kenergy.

Henry sighs and washes down the remains of the tragic cookie with tea. “You’re not seeing my vision, love. You would really make an excellent Ken. And I would make an excellent Barbie.”

“Damn,” Alex says. “We must already be in Barbie’s Dreamhouse because… uh. Keep dreaming.”

“That… was a truly terrible comeback.”

Alex sighs. “Yeah. They can’t all be winners.”

Henry nods gravely. “I’d say this proves my point. You’re Ken, and I’m Barbie.”

It most definitely does not prove anything. “If you’re Barbie,” Alex says, “then you’re definitely Depression Barbie watching the Pride & Prejudice movie like a million times.”

Henry apparently doesn’t have a response to that except indignant spluttering. Alex laughs so hard he wakes up David. He almost falls off the couch laughing when Henry responds with: “How dare you, I am clearly Irrepressible Thoughts of Death Barbie!”

Then they’re both laughing, while David watches them in utter confusion.

“Alright,” Alex says once he has calmed down. “Fair enough. But we can’t both be Barbie!”

“Why not, though?” Henry counters.

“It’s a couples costume!”

“Well,” Henry says. “Two Barbies can love each other! It’s the 21st century!”

Alex tries to sigh but it comes out as more laughter. “Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Gay rights for Barbie or whatever. But two Barbies won’t be as recognizable as a couples costume. People will just think we’re two people who independently decided to dress up as Barbie!”

“Alright.” Henry picks up his phone. “I’m settling this once and for all.”

“What? Who are you calling?”

That question is quickly answered. The dial tone only rings twice before the call goes through, and Pez’s voice fills the living room. “Well, if it isn’t my second favourite disgraced royal. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Henry wastes no time on niceties. “Pez. Out of Alex and me, who is Barbie and who’s Ken?”

Pez doesn’t even take a moment to consider it. He just says, “Darling, you’re definitely Ken.”

Ha! Told you, Alex mouths, his face lighting up in a vindictive grin.

“That is the wrong answer,” Henry tells Pez, whose laughter comes out a little tinny through the phone speakers.

“Oh come on, you know I’m right,” Pez says. “Or perhaps I just really want to see your boyfriend's magnificent arse in that Barbie-pink pantsuit. You know, the one Margot Robbie wears in the film?”

More indignant spluttering from Henry. “Pez, you’re on speaker.”

“Oh good, I hoped I was,” Pez replies. “Hello, Alex! I look forward to seeing your Barbie costume. Do come to me if you need help putting it together. Toodles!"

And then he hangs up. Henry glares at the screen like he can magically will Pez to come back and take his side this time.

“Well, you heard him,” Alex says, not even trying to hide his laughter.

Henry huffs and shoves the phone back in his pocket. “Well, who made him the expert, anyway?”

“Pretty sure you did, when you called to get his opinion. To, you know-” Alex clears his throat and puts on his best Henry impression- “settle this, once and for all.”

Presumably at a loss for words, Henry picks up another cookie and, with considerable effort, bites into it. There’s nothing more to say, anyway. They both know Alex has won.

“Besides,” Alex says, holding up his phone to show Henry the transaction on the screen. “I already ordered the “I am Kenough” hoodie in your size, sweetheart.”

#yes this is very silly and i was having a lot of fun when writing it aksdhj #i think they Would be overly dramatic about barbie for no reason actually #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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bella-rose29 · 11 months ago

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Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 4

Christmas Eve, and the day of the party.

once again I maintain the idea that lockwood has his tea as a Cameron special (for absolutely no reason, they've just merged into one being in my mind)

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: swearing, family members being mean, lockwood never put his pyjamas back on, I should mention now that they're 18 for plot and ethical reasons, mentions of body image issues, innuendos?

series master list

(image credit to @sxnflowersa_tv on pinterest)

When Y/n woke up the next morning, her first thought was that she was cold.

Her second was that she was in a double bed and not her usual tiny single in Portland Row, and the third was panic at seeing her boss shirtless.

Lockwood's blanket had slipped at some point in the night, and so when she sat up and stretched she was met with the sight of him sleeping soundly in the armchair, his pyjamas folded neatly on the small table next to him. How he wasn't freezing to death she wasn't sure, but then Lockwood had never made sense to her. One minute he was all smiles and charm and then the next he was saying something completely opposite into her ear, and she was left to figure out which version was the real Lockwood.

Today would be difficult, and they had to come to some sort of understanding if they were going to survive the hell that they would soon be entering.

Lockwood didn't look comfortable at all, with his neck at an odd angle and his legs curled up underneath him (he was bound to get pins and needles when he woke up), and Y/n felt the smallest pang of pity before a knock sounded on the bedroom door.

"Are you two awake?" Her mother questioned, likely wanting to know if they wanted tea. Y/n clambered out of bed and leaned against the door.

"Uh, I am," she whispered. "Lock- Anthony's still asleep."

"Right, well do you think he'll want a cup of tea? I'm heading down to make a pot now."

"Oh, yeah. He has it weird though, with sugar and honey."

"I'll pop those on the tray, then, and he can put in what he wants."

"Thanks Mum." She heard her mother shuffle and head down the stairs, knees clicking as she went, and turned back to look at her fake boyfriend. "Fuck," she said, a horrible realisation dawning on her. Lockwood couldn't be in the armchair when her mother brought in the tea, or she'd wonder if they'd had an argument. Walking over, she gave his arm a quick prod.

No response.

She tried again, harder this time, and when he stirred a little she cheered internally. "Lockwood?" she whisper-shouted, giving him a proper shove.

"What? What is it?" He was bolt upright almost immediately, scanning for any signs of danger and reaching for Y/n. "Is everything alright?"

"Uh... yes," she said slowly. "Mum's making tea, and when she brings it in you can't be in the chair or she'll have questions." She stared down at his hand where it was grabbing her pyjama top (an old oversized t-shirt), his knuckles white. "You... you can let go of me now, Lockwood."

"Oh. Right." He retracted his hand, but not before letting it hover in the space between them for a few seconds. He stood up, the blanket falling, and Y/n immediately turned around.

"Why are you naked?!"

"I am not! I got hot in the night so I took my pyjamas off! I still have my pants on, thank you very much!"

"Well put your pyjamas back on!" she shrieked, pressing her hands over her face (despite still having her back to him) and desperately hoping she could delete the image from her brain. She had thought he'd only taken his top off, but since he wore matching pyjamas the pile of clothes on the table had looked like one thing, not two. She could hear him hopping around while he attempted to quickly pull his trousers on, and after a minute or so he cleared his throat.

"Alright, I'm dressed." Y/n turned around slowly, scared that he was joking, and sighed in relief when she realised that he wasn't. "Such a drama queen," he muttered under his breath, clearly not wanting her to hear as he looked to his left with a red face.

"I am not a drama queen, Lockwood. If anybody is the drama queen it's you. Now get in the bed." She pointed at it, glare on her face.

"If you wanted me to sleep with you you could have let me do that last night," he smirked, and she threw a decorative pillow at him.

"Just get in the bed, Lockwood." She went to grab a second pillow when he wriggled his eyebrows at her, and he quickly stopped and pulled back the covers. When he was finally settled she climbed in next to him.

"Y/n."

"What?"

"You should probably come a bit closer." He wasn't wrong, since they were as far away from each other as they could get, but she stubbornly refused to cosy up to him when she didn't need to just yet.

"Hang on." She'd spotted the blanket still crumpled on the floor, and hurried to pick it up just as she heard her mother coming up the stairs. Chucking it over the armchair she rushed back to the bed, pulling the duvet over her just as the door opened.

"Fuck's sake, come here," Lockwood whispered, harshly tugging on her arm and then wrapping his arm around her waist. "Ah, good morning, Emma!"

"Morning! Just got some tea for you here," she put the tray down on Y/n's bedside table and paused for a moment as she took in the two of them in the bed. "How did you sleep? Hopefully you feel rested enough for today?"

"Oh I slept beautifully, thank you." Lockwood beamed up at Emma, and Y/n wondered if she knew that his fingers were stroking the skin of her stomach under her top where it had ridden up.

"I'm glad to hear it! Well, I'll leave you to it!" They both smiled until Y/n's mother was out of the room, but as soon as the door clicked shut behind her they shot away from each other.

"I hope we never have to do that again."

"We'll have to do it tomorrow morning, darling."

"Nobody else is here, you don't need to keep calling me that."

"Ah, yes. Sorry, Schmoopie."

"I hate you. I'm going to poison your tea." She was getting the mugs ready now, adding extra honey to one and pouring in the water over the tea bags.

"And I will happily drink it."

A few minutes later (she'd had to let the tea stew for a bit) she poured in the milk and handed over his mug.

"Did you add in the sugar?"

"Yep."

"And the honey?"

"You watched me do it, Lockwood."

"Right, yes. I did." He was quiet for a moment, staring into the contents of his mug. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied, mild shock running through her at the sincerity of his gratitude.

They drank their tea in silence.

~~~

"So, just to recap, there are around fifty people coming over today?"

"Yep," Y/n said through a mouthful of cereal. "All extended family members and close family friends and their families. I've been thinking about it, and as much as it pains me to say it I think... ugh," she scowled into her bowl. "I think you're right abo-"

"Ha! Finally! I got you to say it! About what?"

"If you'd let me finish, you would know, idiot."

"Oh, yes. Sorry."

"I think you're right about needing to do a big speech to everyone all in one go about..." she gestured between the two of them vaguely, "us."

"Ah. Yes, it would save a lot of time, wouldn't it?"

"Hm, it would. And then we only have to remember things once really."

"Remind me again what the story was?" They were sat in the kitchen, the only ones up other than Y/n's mother (who was upstairs getting things ready).

"What was 8 months ago?"

"Why 8 months?" Lockwood frowned over his second mug of tea that morning.

"Because that's what I told Steph last night."

"Oh. Uh, April I think? There was that one job we went on in March, just the two of us. We could stick pretty close to the truth then if we used that as a death scare that made you realise that you couldn't possibly live without me."

"Wasn't the story that you realised you were hopelessly in love with me one day and asked me out, but I refused multiple times until eventually I gave in to get you to shut up?"

"Well, yes. But I just think that- morning, Stephanie." His smile was clearly forced, and Y/n realised with a start that she was beginning to be able to tell which of his smiles were real.

"Morning you two. Hopefully you didn't get too frisky last night after that adorable kiss under the mistletoe!"

"No, we-"

"Well, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Stephanie," Lockwood smirked, and Y/n rolled her eyes at his interruption. Her cousin was lapping it up, and after a few minutes the kitchen was filled with various members of Y/n's family as they all filed in, bleary eyed and reaching for tea and coffee. They would have to figure out their story while they got ready for the party, since they definitely couldn't get details straight with so many people in the room.

"Morning, Squeak," her brother Will murmured as he sat on a stool next to her at the counter. Y/n scoffed at the nickname, but there was nothing resentful behind it. "Sleep alright?"

"Yeah, did you?" He nodded in response as he started shovelling mouthfuls of cereal in, the bowl nearly spilling over with the amount of food in it.

"Lover boy didn't give you too much grief last night, did he?"

"No, he was alright."

"Hey, if you need a break at any point today come and find me, yeah? I'll fend off any inquisitive relatives."

"Thanks, Will." He was only a couple of years older than her, being the third youngest of her brothers, but Will liked to act as though he was the oldest of all of the L/n siblings. In fairness Tom was eleven and Sam and John who were thirty and twenty-eight respectively were rarely home or in contact with her, and she didn't have as much of a bond with them. Olivia was a year younger than Y/n, but since they had shared a room growing up they had fought consistently over the years about completely irrelevant things and barely talked outside of gatherings.

"Anytime. I think me and the boys were gonna take your lover boy away at some point to give him the proper talk, so if you can't find any of us later that'll be why."

"Please stop calling him 'lover boy', Will," she grimaced, not noticing Lockwood come up behind her.

"But I am your lover boy, darling." She whipped her head around to see Lockwood leaning against the counter next to her with a soft smile.

Weird. She'd thought he would be smirking instead.

Will snorted, then tipped his bowl up to drink the last of the milk. "You two," he said after he'd finished, "are quite possibly the most sickening thing I have ever seen."

~~~

"Is a suit too much, do you think?"

"Maybe leave the tie," Y/n called out from the bathroom where she was getting changed. She had long since pulled on the burgundy dress, but not knowing when Lockwood would be in a state where she could walk out meant that she had spent the last five minutes staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was absolutely certain that multiple people would make comments about her figure, or compare her to Stephanie, or both, and she was dreading leaving the bathroom. Then there would be the comments about her job, and how being an agent was a terrible choice and she should have gone into full-time education instead.

"Y/n? You can come out when you're ready."

She sighed shakily, taking one last look at herself in the mirror above the sink before unlocking the door and stepping out.

Lockwood was in one of his usual suits, pink socks poking out from under his trousers, and he was just sorting out his cuffs when he looked up and froze. When he still didn't say anything Y/n's mind started racing ahead to all the different possibilities.

"I look awful, don't I? I'll get my jeans and jumper and get changed, give me a minute."

"No!" Lockwood shouted, his arms outstretched. He hesitated, then spoke again, and his voice was back to how it sounded when he was being an arse. "No, don't do that, just... you look fine like that and we'll be late if you get changed now."

"Oh. Alright." She frowned, wrapping her arms around her midriff as she inspected Lockwood's outfit. "Wait, don't move," she called out when he went to move. Y/n walked over to him, then reached up to straighten out his collar. It had been sticking up, so she smoothed her hands over it to right it, letting them linger on his chest afterwards. He wasn't moving, and she was quite sure that he wasn't breathing either, and when she looked up at him she realised that she was holding her breath too.

They hadn't been this close since they kissed the night before, and then they'd had an audience.

Now it was just the two of them, alone in the room.

"Y/n?" Lockwood asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Yeah?" Had his face moved closer? Suddenly she could make out the individual colours in his eyes and was able to count the freckles on his cheeks. He licked his lips, tilting his head slightly to brush his nose against hers, and she felt her eyes fluttering closed.

"Are you two nearly ready? Emma needs help getting food and things ready for the guests!" A loud knock accompanied the shrill voice of Y/n's Aunt Linda, and the pair of them sprang apart, clearing their throats and avoiding eye contact. Y/n marched over to the door and wrenched it open, plastering a smile on her warm face.

"We're ready! Anthony? You coming?"

"Yeah, just... I'll be down in a minute, darling. I just need to use the loo." He flashed the two women a smile, then disappeared into the en-suite. Y/n could have killed him for leaving her alone, but maybe that was for the best given what had just happened.

"Come on then," Linda said, and ushered her downstairs.

~~~

Everyone was busy doing something, and everything was in complete chaos.

"Oh, that can go over there. Tom, don't put that in your mouth, please. No, over there, Ben. Tom! Not in your mouth! You're eleven, this shouldn't be difficult! Boys, please stop mucking about and do something useful! Over there- oh for god's sake, give it here!" Y/n's mother snatched a plate of food away from her husband, rushing between the kitchen and the dining room that was through the open double doors off to the side. The whole area would be brimming with guests in less than thirty minutes, and things were still being put out. "Oh, you're here, that's perfect. Where's Anthony? Never mind, no time. Here, you can put this next to the thingy there!" Luckily Y/n had grown up with her mother's distracted way of talking and knew exactly what she meant, taking the opportunity to run away from Linda.

The next ten minutes followed the same pattern of being handed things and told to put them in various spots on the table, and Lockwood was nowhere to be seen for any of it. Y/n was starting to worry that he'd flushed his skinny beanpole of a frame down the toilet.

"Where's your boyfriend, Y/n?" Stephanie asked, sidling up in a stunning silver dress that looked as though it had been painted on her.

"In the toilet. Are you gonna help, Steph?"

"Oh, you're... wearing that again?" she asked, ignoring Y/n's tired request for help. "Didn't you wear that last year? You've put on a bit of weight since then, haven't you!" She let out a laugh, and Y/n brought her arms around her stomach self-consciously for the second time since putting on the dress. Maybe she should have ignored Lockwood and got changed anyway. At least then when people complained about her outfit she'd be more comfortable in her own body. "Well, personally I think you should get it let out a little, Y/n. You do look awfully-"

"Beautiful?" a voice questioned from Y/n's right, and after a second someone else's arms were around her waist, pulling her back against a warm chest. "She does look stunning, doesn't she?"

"Anthony," Y/n breathed when he spun her around to face him, his hands holding hers tightly. He was smiling one of those private smiles reserved for the people he cared about, small and gentle, and her heart jumped in her chest.

"I... I suppose," Stephanie said, sounding confused. It was so typical of her to not think of her cousin as anything other than a way to make herself look better. Y/n barely noticed when her cousin drifted off, or when her brother picked up his camera and took a photo of the two of them framed by the lights that had been draped over the doorframe, since all she could focus on was the feel of her hands being held by Lockwood and the way he was looking at her.

"Aww, aren't they just adorable!" Y/n's grandmother Jean said loudly, catching the attention of everybody nearby. Apparently half of the guests had arrived on time (of course the one time that happened was the time she had to pull off a huge fake dating stunt), because the kitchen and dining room were packed with people. Murmurs of assent travelled around, and Y/n could hear a few people questioning who the tall young man next to her was, and suddenly her heart was plummeting rather than jumping, and she felt sick.

"Hey," Lockwood whispered, still smiling at her. "We can do this, alright? It's only today and most of tomorrow, and then we're back in London. It's really not that long when you think about it."

He needed to stop being nice to her, because it was freaking her out.

One minute he was saying she looked fine and not seeming to care much about what she looked like, and the next he was declaring that she was beautiful and stunning with such sincerity that she couldn't help but think it was real.

"So this is the boyfriend Linda told us about, huh?" one guest asked.

"Um... yes," Y/n replied, moving closer to Lockwood and curling into his side, trying not to look too stiff and petrified when his arm came around her side. "This is Anthony." She gestured up at him, feeling increasingly uncomfortable about the fact that around thirty people all had their eyes on her, and any one of them could work out that this relationship was a farce and completely destroy any good reputation that she had amongst her family.

"How did it all start? Go on, give us the story!" somebody called out.

"Yeah, we all want to know!" exclaimed a different voice. "Y/n/n's never had a boyfriend before!"

Y/n shared a glance with Lockwood, and he opened his mouth to speak.

part 5

Tag list (I think this is everyone): @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @locklyebrainrot, @locknco, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @ran23sblog, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #enemies to lovers #fake dating #christmas

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sunflowersandsapphires · 1 year ago

Text

Why you gotta tempt my trouble?

Of Oak and Ivy, Chapter 1

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: In college, Matt Murdock had two best friends, Foggy Nelson and you. However, life had no intention of letting you graduate with him. When he reconnects with you in adulthood, he is troubled to see the hand God has dealt you and vows to use every tool at his disposal to save you from damnation.

warnings: swearing, sickly sweet fluff, get ready for some pining y'all.

a/n: Here's the first chapter of the college fic! The next one won't be posted until I've written a few more (which might be a while because I'm trying to make them longer and I'm only one chapter ahead at the moment.) Please let me know if you like it and want to see more or be added to the taglist!

w/c: 5.3k

Digging the heels of your hands into your eyes, you resisted the urge to bang your head on the counter you sat at in an attempt to reboot the organ. This passage made no damn sense and you had mere days to understand it and conform to its ideals in order to do well in the class that it was assigned to. Biting your lip, you flipped back a few pages to start the chapter over for the third time when the sound of someone clearing their throat nearly startled you out of your seat.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I didn’t see you!” Saving your place in the worn book, you looked up to find a young man standing before you. He was handsome, with fluffy, inky locks and a charming smile on his lips.

“That’s alright, I, uh, can’t quite fault you there.” He smiled sideways at you, gesturing to the opaque rectangular frames on his nose. Your mouth formed an “O” shape before you tripped over your response.

“I want to laugh but that feels wrong. Is it more rude to laugh or not laugh? Oh god, forget I said that, I—“

The boy in front of you chuckled. “It’s quite alright, and it was meant to be a joke.”

“Right, well, sorry again. How can I help you?” You clasped your hands, tilting your head as you waited for his response.

“I was wondering if you had braille copies of any of these textbooks?” As he posed the question, the handsome boy passed you a list of the textbooks he was looking for.

Looking over the document, you pursed your lips. “That is a fantastic question that we will have to answer together. I wish I knew off the top of my head, but today's only my third day on the job.” You cringed, wishing your manager was here.

“I imagine it’s not a common question, so I won’t hold it against you.” There was that charming smile again. Your insides felt like they were slowly melting under his grin.

“That’s, um, very kind of you.” You stammered out, feeling heat flood your cheeks.

“Matt.” He broke in. “Matt Murdock. And you are..?”

Offering your name, you dutifully turned back to the index, scanning the pages for any clue as to where braille copies would be stocked.

“That’s a pretty name, it suits you.” Your fingers halted in their dance across the page, your eyes flitting back to the gorgeous customer.

“As much as I appreciate that, turning up the charm won’t change the fact that it might take a minute for me to find these.” Your eyes narrowed as you became skeptical of his intentions.

“Take your time. It’ll give me more time to get to know you.” The flirty grin never faltered on Matt’s face.

“Oh you’re trouble.” You shook your head, thumbing through the pages of the file before you. “I’m starting to think I should search on my own.”

Matt just laughed, leaning forward on his white cane and grinning at you. “Where should we start?”

“I have a couple ideas.”

You and Matt searched far and wide for accessible copies of the textbooks he needed. While they—thankfully—did exist, they were scattered throughout the store haphazardly, not in either location the index had suggested. The lack of care and attention the volumes had gotten was making you progressively more irritated. There was absolutely no reason these books should’ve been treated with such disrespect, even if they weren’t commonly asked for.

After finding all but one book on his list, it was barely past store closing. Locking the door with a huff, you clocked out before joining Matt where he was seated on the ground by the first shelf.

“I hate to say this, but I think we might need to order you a new copy.” You remarked with a frown, scuffing your shoe along the faded carpet on the bookstore’s floor.

Matt, whose pleasant personality hadn’t dimmed despite the lackluster findings, simply chuckled, knocking his shoulder into yours.

“Well, we gave it the old college try, so to speak.” He waggled his eyebrows at you above his dark glasses.

You groaned, but couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped your throat. Despite your intense introversion and social awkwardness, Matt put you at ease.

“Sorry, my roommate is rubbing off on me.” He gave an exaggerated grimace.

“Is he a law student too?”

“Yep. Foggy Nelson. The three of us might actually have some classes together.” Matt’s face lit up with the idea. You’d confessed during your hunt that you had already purchased your own copies of many of the books on his list. Given that you were both first year law students, it made sense that you’d be in classes with one another, but you felt a weight lift off your chest nonetheless.

“Honestly, that makes me feel so much better. I’m incredibly nervous.” You confessed, focusing on a fraying patch of carpet underneath your sneaker.

“I’m sure you’ll do great.” Matt leaned against you, focusing on you in a way that made your chest flutter.

“See you say that not knowing how long it’s taking me to get through the first reading assignment for Legal Methods.” You dropped your head into your hands, remembering the cursed passage from earlier.

“Foggy mentioned something about that book. It’s…outdated?”

“That’s an understatement. The first chapter is about a famous eugenics case, Buck v Bell, and I might be reading it wrong but it seems like the author is suggesting that we don’t have ableism that resembles that of the case in current day? I was getting so frustrated reading it that I honestly couldn’t tell if it was confusing or just a stupid argument.” You explained.

“It’s in the McKinnon book, right? If you want, we could read it together and try to figure it out? Unless you have somewhere else to get to…” Matt Murdock, the charming, unswayable man you’d met a few hours ago blushed at the question, making you grin.

“I would love to hear your opinion on the text, Mr. Murdock. We can start an unofficial study group.”

“I like the sound of that. Let’s crack open this shit show.” Matt let you pull him off the ground and over to your work station where he opened his own copy of the text and began to read.

A few hours and more than a few boxes of takeout later, you and Matt were still working your way through the chapter, though you’d both decided with certainty that the text was more angering than confusing.

“If the professor is as ableist as this author, I’ll never be able to pass this class.” You grumbled, shoving the hellish book away from you. “There’s no way I can pretend that eugenic ideals have disappeared, even for a better grade.”

“Seriously. I’m hoping it’s supposed to make us mad so we can argue about it? Though I seriously doubt everyone will be on our side, unfortunately.” Matt scowled.

“Well, at least we have each other, right?” The man in front of you perked up with that comment, but you hurriedly corrected yourself. “And your roommate, of course.”

Deflating slightly, Matt scratched the back of his neck. “Speaking of, I should probably get back so he doesn’t send out a search party. I’ll see you in class?”

“See you then, trouble maker.” You murmured, smiling softly at him.

“Have a good night, sweetheart. Get home safe.”

“You too.”

A few days later, your evening with the sweet law student had fallen to the back of your mind as nerves about your first semester of classes set in. Fidgeting with your outfit in the mirror, you inhaled a shaky breath.

“Stop worrying, you’ll be fine!” The voice of your roommate, Jen, rang out across your shared loft making your brow furrow.

“Easy for you to say! You’ve done this before.” You groused, still examining your reflection. Jen was an old friend of yours who had lived down the street from you growing up. The two of you had been practically inseparable since elementary school, despite the fact that she was two years older than you.

“Jen’s right, you know.” Oscar, Jen’s long-term boyfriend and your unofficial second roommate, squeezed your shoulder on his way to the kitchen. “Everyone is going to be nervous, so they won’t have time to judge you.”

“Yah, yah. I appreciate the votes of confidence but, unfortunately, my anxiety and I have to hit the road. I would rather not be late.”

“Have fun!” Oscar called as you grabbed your bag.

“You’re gonna kill it!” Shouted Jen as you exited the apartment.

You shook your head, hoping they were right, and set off for your first ever Columbia Law class.

The trek across campus was pretty and the walk helped you calm your racing thoughts. The walkways were littered with other first year students who looked more clueless than you—including a blond boy with a kind face who was staring quizzically at a kiosk in front of him that was plastered with event flyers.

He muttered to himself for a moment before reaching to the side of the kiosk obscured from your view and tugging on the arm of someone beside him. “Ok dude, according to this map we should be heading…” He paused, squinting at the paper he was reading before dramatically pointing left. “West!”

“That’s East.” You chuckled, walking over to inspect the map for yourself. As you neared the misguided fellow, your eyes widened as you recognized his friend. “Matt?”

Laughing brightly and greeting you, Matt tugged free of the other man’s grip and strode over to you. “Are you following me?” He narrowed his eyes at you but his tone remained playful.

Shoving him, you scoffed. “You wish, Murdock. I was going to warn your friend here that the upperclassmen usually put up fake maps as a prank on the first day of classes.”

“Thank god we have someone to warn us of their cruelty, or we’d be dead meat!” The blond spun around and bowed in front of you. “Franklin Nelson, at your service m’lady. You can call me Foggy”

You giggled, introducing yourself. “It’s such a shitty prank. Thankfully, I have roommates who are in their third year and they showed me around weeks ago. Where are you headed?”

“Greene Hall.” Matt informed you.

“Oh, that’s where I’m headed too! Civil Procedure? With Professor McGuiness?”

“The very same! We’re damn lucky to have run into you.” Foggy sighed, shaking his head.

“It’s this way, and we aren’t too far. We’ll probably get there early.”

“That’s good because this one,” Foggy stuck a thumb at Matt, “Has this idea that we need to sit in the front if we don’t want to fail. I’d be perfectly fine sitting in the last row and never being called on once!”

“Studies show that sitting in one of the first few rows increases retention!” Matt elbowed his roommate who just snorted.

“Retention schmention. I say we sit by the cutest people in the class and have them tutor us when we inevitably fail.” Foggy winked at you and you laughed.

Matt squeezed your arm, leaning closer to you. “I think that can be arranged regardless.”

Heat rose in your cheeks as his flirtatious grin made a reappearance. “Oh shut up, trouble maker, or I’ll sit in the very last row just to spite you.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” Matt held out an arm, “Mind walking me to class, sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned to Foggy. “How do you put up with him? You’re a Saint, truly.” But you took Matt’s arm anyway, ensuring that you were keeping a steady pace and avoiding anything he might trip over.

The walk to your first law class was, eventful, to say the least. Matt and Foggy were clearly soulmates of a sort, with their nonstop bantering and the way they balanced each other out. Foggy was a ray of sunshine, while Matt was more comfortable in the shadows, so to speak. The blond was all loud declarations and bright smiles, while Matt was more low toned flirting and quiet observations. They were both incredibly intelligent, overly sarcastic, and had a flair for the dramatic. You were ecstatic to have stumbled into their lives.

Matt had successfully cajoled the both of you into sitting with him in the second row, a compromise which Foggy considered a huge win. As students filed in, you subconsciously fiddled with your shirt, suddenly feeling incredibly insecure about your presence in this classroom. A gentle hand grabbed your wrist, making you jump.

“Relax,” Matt whispered. “You look fine, trust me.”

“How do you know?” You murmured nervously.

“Those boys a few rows behind us are staring.” Matt’s smile remained, but his voice held a tension you couldn’t quite place. “And the TA is trying very hard not to.”

“How on earth can you tell that?” You raised an eyebrow at him, incredulous.

“Matt is seriously like some sort of super powered being. He has the greatest intuition of anyone I’ve ever met. Best to trust him about these things.” Foggy nodded solemnly, clearly trying not to burst out laughing.

You simply rolled your eyes, pulling your notebook from your bag. Opening it to the correct page, you stifled a giggle as Foggy leaned over Matt’s lap to whisper-yell at you.

“Why do you already have notes written? Matt, why does she already have notes written?”

“I like to come prepared. I took notes on the first few chapters of the book.”

“But we didn’t even have an assignment for this class!”

“Yah, but I was bored at work and I thought I’d get a head start.” You just shrugged but Foggy glared at you, shaking a finger in your face.

“You’re gonna make the rest of us look like slackers! You, missy, have some apologizing to do.”

“For doing my due diligence?” You laughed.

“Yes! For being too proactive. I think you owe us a tutoring session or two.” Foggy crossed his arms with a huff.

“You have no idea if I even know what I’m doing, these notes could be gibberish!” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Nope, it’s good material. I can tell. You owe us. Doesn’t she, Matt?” Foggy elbowed his roommate who smirked.

“I think he might be right, sweetheart. What would you say to being the leader of our study group.” Matt tilted his head, focusing on you.

“Do I have a choice?” You sighed.

“No!” Foggy exclaimed at the same time Matt responded, “Not really.”

“Then I accept, but I want my objection noted.”

“It’s all in the record, don’t worry.” Foggy waved a hand, turning his attention back to the front of the room as the Professor walked to the front.

The rest of the week went similarly, as you had three of four classes at the same time as Matt and Foggy. They made great company, so you could hardly complain, but it was the first meeting of your “unofficial official study group” (as Foggy had dubbed it) and you were quite nervous.

You were fairly confident that you knew what you were talking about, but the idea of being the backbone for two other grades besides your own was quite stressful. Not to mention the jittery feeling you got every time your brain reminded you that you’d been in Matt’s room with him for an extended period of time. You chided yourself, Matt—though he was incredibly flirty—was one of the best friends you’d ever had, and you’d be damned before you jeopardized that because you were touch-starved and more than a little thirsty.

Taking a deep breath to keep your antsy libido in check, which was getting increasingly difficult given the fact that you were sitting atop Matt’s bed practically cuddled against him, you turned your focus to the space in front of you for a moment of redirection.

The room was small, a standard dorm room with two long skinny bed frames that held stiff foam mattresses, two identical desks with chipped paint and lumpy rolling chairs, and a bolted-shut window. Although the room was dim and cramped, the view was gorgeous, overlooking a rectangular patch of grass framed with lush green trees and the distant Manhattan skyline, bright with yellow lights against the black of the atmosphere.

Shifting your focus to the inside of the room, you smiled at the dichotomy on full display. While it was clear both boys had cleaned in preparation for your visit, Foggy’s side of the room was haphazardly straightened, with loose socks peeking out from underneath the bed and a handful of stray candy wrappers still visible atop his desk. Matt’s half of the space was meticulously organized, complete with braille labels. It was clear that everything had its place.

A shoulder nudged yours and you choked on a breath in your haste to turn towards the presence beside you. Matt smirked, but a small crease was present between his brows. “You ok? You stopped reading…”

“Yup!” You squeaked, clearing your throat and trying again. “Yes, sorry. Got distracted by your view.” Which was mostly true...

“Is it nice? Foggy’s never told me.” Matt grins sideways at you, furrow on his smooth skin fading.

“It’s…stunning. There’s a lot of green up front, with the lawn and plants and whatnot, but the red brick buildings contrast beautifully. And behind campus you can see the rest of the city, like we’re in an urban valley almost. It’s not like anything I’ve ever seen.”

“It sounds pretty. You should describe more sights for me, sweetheart. You’re good at it.”

Heat ran up your face at the compliment, pulsing in your cheeks and the tips of your ears. Turning from the window, you found your chest settling calmly as you studied Matt’s face. You’d never been this close to him and it was startling how easily his innocuous expression stirred up emotions in you.

He had the slightest shadow of stubble gracing his sharp jawline. As you ran your eyes along his face, you found yourself lingering on the beautiful hazel eyes, nearly blocked by his dark glasses. The blank, honey-bronze orbs held more emotion than you’d ever seen in someone’s expression. In the small time you’d known Matt, you found yourself constantly moved by his passion—for his city, for justice, for Foggy, even for you.

“So can we get back to the precedent of Buck v. Bell or are you just gonna stare lovingly at Matt all night?” Foggy smiled sweetly at you but the glint in his eyes made it clear he was annoyed.

“I wasn’t—I mean I—“ You sputtered, scootching farther away from Matt in an effort to conceal your obvious crush.

“Whatever. It’s late and I’d like to finish soon. Precedent?” Foggy prompted, pointing to his textbook.

“Well, the main point is that disabled and institutionalized individuals were no longer considered to have the same rights as other people.” Matt huffed, thumbing through his textured pages.

“Right. And the opinion implies that losing rights through due process opens you up to losing rights in the future without another trial.” You added, squinting at a particular paragraph for clarity.

“Which sucks, but checks out for 1927.” Foggy frowned.

“If I’m interpreting the important parts correctly, this case is meant to highlight an important consequence of precedent, which is that one decision can impact the judicial system for decades, even over important things like due process.” You explained, turning to Matt. “Is that what you got from this?”

“That’s about what I interpreted, yah.” Matt nodded, giving Foggy a sly grin. “That enough of an explanation for ya, Nelson? Or do we need to break it down point by point.”

“Shut up, Murdock.” Foggy grumbled. “I’d be better with this if I wasn’t dog-tired.”

“You’re doing great, Foggy. Don’t listen to him. All we have left to do this week is read for Torts and then we are home free.” You smiled sympathetically.

“Ugh!” Foggy flopped down onto his pillows, covering his face with his hands.

“Not to be a pain, but I don’t have this text…” Matt shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip.

“That’s alright, I can read mine aloud. If that’s ok with you, Foggy?” You looked to the half-asleep law student for confirmation who nodded tiredly.

“If it allows me to close my eyes, I’d be more than happy to listen.”

Matt chuckled, before tilting his head towards you. “Can I come closer? To make sure I don’t miss anything?” You could’ve sworn you saw Foggy roll his eyes, but you blinked and he remained still as a corpse against his pillows.

“Of course, Matt. Here.” Shuffling closer to him, you lay the textbook across both of your laps, trying incredibly hard to not focus on how warm he was. “This ok?”

Matt nodded, mouth parted slightly and your eyes followed his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips. For a moment, all you heard was static and the soft puffs of Matt’s breath. Coming back into your body, you shook your head to clear out the lovestruck cobwebs.

“Ok, um, Introduction to American Civil Law: Chapter 1, Liability and Negligence…”

To tell the honest truth, Matt hadn’t taken in a word you’d spoken since you passed the introductory paragraph. Legal jargon washed over him like the water of a warm bath, spoken by a soothing dulcet voice and punctuated by the steady thump of your kind heart. Your thigh was resting against his and he could feel the tension in your neck as you desperately kept it mere inches from its desired landing place on his shoulder. Your soft t-shirt brushed over his arm with each expanse of your chest as you inhaled, rubbing more of your sweet lavender and vanilla scent over his skin.

As you continued to be blissfully unaware of his lack of attention, or rather his abundance of attention, his body was fighting an internal battle to not sweep you into his arms and bury his face in your neck.

Leaving St. Agnes had been a culture shock for the ages, but Matt was beginning to love it. The orphanage had been an overwhelmingly lonely place, which Matt attributed to his tendency to pick fights and his disability causing him to stand out. Meeting his new roommate had been nerve wracking, but Foggy was as easy to like as the first ray of sunshine in the spring, despite his grumpiness when he was exhausted. Sure he was messy and his snoring had kept Matt awake for hours, but he had a massive heart. Though he and Foggy had very different lifestyles, the other man fit perfectly into his life, as did you. Matt was more than aware of his tendency to form quick attachments, but his feelings toward you were an entirely different beast.

The night he’d met you in the bookstore, an invitation to go on a date with him had been teetering on the edge of his tongue for hours. Flirting came naturally to him, one of the many reasons he didn’t get along with the other boys of Clinton Church, but given his less than standard childhood, he’d never had the opportunity to start a relationship. Every minute he spent with you made it more obvious that you deserved to be loved, not aimlessly thrown into a date or two, and Matt wasn’t sure he would be able to provide that. At least not now.

An ear-splitting snore sounded from the other side of the room, abruptly ending his daydream. Your arm left its place at his side as you stifled a laugh. “Guess I was more boring than I thought.”

“Trust me, it’s not because of you. That man could fall asleep to the sound of a fire alarm if he tried hard enough.” Matt smirked, humor not quite reaching his eyes as his brain mourned the loss of your touch. Feeling you shift tensely next to him, he pondered for a moment. “If you’re worried about waking him, we could go somewhere else?”

“Where would we go at 2 in the morning on a Thursday?” You groaned, desperately aching to be done with school work for the week but simultaneously more than willing to spend all night with Matt.

“I know a place. But we will probably want this blanket.” Matt grinned at you as your confusion peaked, but you threw the blanket over your shoulder and took his hand nonetheless.

How your friend had discovered that the roof of Butler Library remained accessible after hours via a secluded maintenance stairwell, you’d never know—but you couldn’t help but thank the heavens for granting you this slice of paradise.

The cement that compromised the roof was cold, a symptom of being deprived of the sun for hours now, but you and Matt lay huddled together on his bedspread, lounging in a pocket of warmth your closeness had created. You were practically snuggling, which was not helping soothe the part of your brain that was rabidly attracted to him, sharing your highs and lows from the week.

As the two of you giggled about an incident with a pigeon that had decided to attend Civil Procedure, you found your eyes tracing over the moonlit form of the beautiful man before you, who seemed to notice your staring as his lips quirked up. “So, tell me, sweetheart, how’s a girl like you end up in a place like this?”

With an exaggerated groan, you shoved him playfully. “You and your damn lines, Murdock.”

With a chuckle, Matt’s expression turned from something entirely playful into one of genuine interest. “Seriously, what brought you to Columbia?” Feeling your heart pound under his blank gaze, you blew out a breath.

“That is a long, sad story that I’m sure you don’t really—“

“If you don’t want to tell me, I totally get it. But I’d like to know more about you.” Matt’s answer was honest and lacking his perpetually flirty edge that kept you at a safe distance, which sent a burst of heat to your stomach that you weren’t expecting.

“Oh, well...” Sighing deeply, you considered your options. You’d had a hard time making friends in the past, and had a tendency to over share (or so you’d been told), but Matt had asked for the real answer. That meant he really wanted it, right?

Steeling yourself for the impending rejection, you confessed. “I’m originally from Connecticut. Small little town called Bridgewater, about an hour from New Haven. It’s just me and my mom, really. My dad lives in godknowswhere, Virginia with my two siblings and his girlfriend. He’s…kinda the worst, so we don’t talk much. My mom though, she’s amazing. I owe everything to her.”

Matt smiled at you, nodding encouragingly when you hesitated.

“Um, yah, so long story short, she was diagnosed with cancer when I was a kid. My dad has sort of always been a jackass but her prognosis…I don’t know, it was the last straw for him. I don’t remember much but they started arguing about money and then, he took everything. I didn’t realize it at the time, my mom is the nicest person on the planet and she would never blame my dad for her misfortune, but we lost our house, she lost her job, her assets, two of her kids—though they didn’t fight to stay like I did. The longer I lived, the more curious I became about everything and when I did some digging in high school, I found out my dad had claimed everything in the divorce. He and his attorney had argued that my mom was abusive and financially exploiting him and the judge gave him anything he asked for. I decided I wanted to be a lawyer so I could stop others from going through what my mom and I have.”

The story poured out of you, relieving a pressure you’d been carrying for as long as you remembered. Matt simply listened intently, emotions passing over his face in small flashes as you described your past. Realizing all of the bullshit you’d just dumped on him, you cringed.

“I’m sorry, that was a lot, I just…” Matt’s brow furrowed and his hand shot out to cup your elbow.

“No! No, I’m just so sorry that happened. Your dad sounds like a piece of work.” He gave a disgusted grimace and you giggled.

“He is. My mom still loves him though, bless her heart. We spend Christmas with him every year like he didn’t ruin her life.” The laugh that you have held no humor. “Anyway, that’s my backstory. What about you, trouble maker?” You leaned into the loose hold Matt kept on your arm, eager to learn more about him.

“Well, I’m from New York. Hell’s Kitchen, born and raised just like Foggy. I, uh, I never knew my mom. Was close with my dad, though. He was a boxer, taught me a lot about fighting, persistence.” Matt’s face fell slightly as he paused. Intertwining your fingers with his, your smile softened.

“He sounds like a good man.”

Matt nodded. “Yah, he uh, he was. He died when I was 9.”

Eyes widening, a hasty apology spilled out of you. “Oh Matt, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—“ A squeeze of your hand stopped you in your tracks.

“It’s ok. I do miss him, though. After he died, I was taken in by an orphanage, raised by nuns. This is, really the first time I’ve lived without feeling like I’m being watched.” Matt chuckled awkwardly, removing his fingers from yours to push up his glasses. “Law interested me for a reason similar to yours, I suppose. My dad, uh, he was murdered. Organized crime hit. I tried to get someone, anyone really, to bring the group to justice and I…failed. Made me realize the justice system needs more devoted participants, I guess.” Taking his hand back into yours, you ran a thumb over his knuckles, allowing him to collect his thoughts before continuing the conversation.

“So you’re interested in criminal law then?” Your heart flipped happily as Matt’s starlit face lit up again.

“Honestly, I’m interested in most of it. But the more I learn about the world, the more I realize how important criminal defense is. My dad’s murder inspired this journey, but what I do with the degree, it’ll be in his memory. I’m starting to think that defense would be the best way to honor him.”

How on Earth did you manage to find the sweetest boy on campus? “That’s…beautiful Matt. Really. He must be so proud of you already.”

Matt’s lips twitched but he seemed unsure. “Maybe he should wait to see if I actually get this degree. Torts is already shaking up to be a nightmare.”

“Ugh, that’s for damn sure.” You laughed breathily, shivering as a breeze pierced your thin shirt.

Face twisting with concern, Matt ran his hand over your arm. “Are you cold? Sorry, I didn’t think it would get this chilly out.”

“Oh, it’s ok! I’m not that cold.” You assured him, relishing in the soft brushes of his calloused fingertips over your arm.

Raising a brow at you, Matt pulled off the crew neck he was wearing, handing it to you. “Humor me.”

Rolling your eyes at his demanding tone, you slipped the garment over your head. The worn gray sweatshirt was soft and comfortably warm with Matt’s body heat. It was such a pleasant relief from the frigid cement that you had to bite back a groan. Breathing in the earthy, clean scent that always followed Matt, you sighed in relief.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Matt grinned.

The night didn’t go on for too much longer after you spilled your guts to your new friend. At his insistence, you called Oscar and Jen to come pick you up rather than walking home.

You fell asleep easily that night and, while it would be easy to blame the late hour, the fabric of Matt’s sweatshirt wrapped around you may have had something to do with it.

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kamiko1234 · 5 months ago

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Alright just got to chapter ten of The Lightning Thief and I have more thoughts.

So, first off : I stay firmly rooted in my opinion that Luke is great. I love him, I bet his hugs are great. He and Percy have a cool brotherly sort of friendship going on. Ngl ? Percy and Luke found family sounds GREAT to me. God knows that poor boy (Percy) could use someone like him (Luke) to look after him. (Sadly with Percy going off with Annabeth and Grover now it seems we'll see less of him, which is a crime imo. Give me my wholesome older bro character. Hope dies last tho, so I'll just hope I can get more of him over the course of the book and the rest of the series !) But also, the hint with his quest ? Naw that backstory is going to be SAD, my poor baby. I will cry over him. I may have only known him for a few chapters but damn, he's my favorite. Offical favorite. Like he deserves for radiating the biggest Teedy bear, Big Bro, Green Flag vibes in the entier series besides our beloved MC Percy. Second off, uh- the gods are sort of dicks ? Like, you are telling me that Poseidon was just A-okay with abandoning Percy for all his life and ONLY claimed him bc he needed him ???? Not cool ! But also, the implications of this ???? And the fact that apparently Percy is being send out on a quest at- what ? 12 ? 13 ? That is NOT safe, and the gods are apparently fine with it too ?????? Not to MENTION what happened with that Thalia girl !? Honestly, the fact that Zeus broke that sacred oath first did not surprise me, but also Hades wtf ?????? That's an innocent kid ! She isn't at fault here you idiot. That entier sittuation is some A+ child neglect and endangerment aswell as what I gotta assume attempted murder, someone call CPS on those guys or I will do it myself. What a bunch of a-holes. On a third note, so the prophecy said that Percy would be betrayed by a friend. Which means I gotta scrap my previous suspicions of Clarisse or any Ares kid, they and Percy are NOT friends. My next best guess would be Annabeth. She's the next best friend of Percy, and she's on the quest with him which would give us good opportunities. She DID seem weirdly enthusiastic to go on a live threatening quest.

Not to mention that Annabeth is a child of Athena, and it was stated that she (Athena) has a rivalry with Poseidon going on. Maybe Athena's in on the plot to steal the Master Bolt and frame Poseidon due to a grudge from that, and Annabeth as her kid acts on her behalf.

But also, she's like- the only one I can reasonably imagine doing it. Besides here Percy has like, two other friends. Grover and Luke. Grover is the ultimate dork, but also has more than enough motives to specifically STAY loyal. Besides the obvious thing of getting his license, he's been Percy's oldest friend at that point. he cares for him. As for Luke, I just don't think he's the type to do that, yk ? As far as I've seen the guy is nothing but caring, he teached Percy and welcomed him ! Even going out of his way to train him when the other campers were avoiding him after he'd been claimed. Why would Luke do that if he'd just betray him at the end ? He's seemingly being written out of the book for now too, when should he get the chance to betray Percy ? (He did have that one weird line about looking evil that one time which confused me a bit ???? Ngl imma just assume he has a cool badass side, like the cool badass dude he is. Did I say that I really like Luke already ?) My fourth point : the line in the prophecy saying Percy'll fail to save what's most important will be him failing to save his Mom from the underworld. Hades' is built up to be the big bad, and he rules the underworld where Percy's mom is currently in. He cares a whole lot about her and Percy did think about saving her already. And last but not least, I think Annabeth betraying Percy will lead to him not being able to save his Mom. I'd imagine it'd go like this : Percy, Annabeth and Grover go to the underworld to get the Master Bolt from Hades (which I assume is the big bad) and to save Percy's mom. They manage to get the Master Bolt, and are about to save Percy's mom when Annabeth reveals herself and betrays them. Causing Percy and Grover to be unable to get Sally. And that was all ! PS: OMG OK I JUST STARTED WITH CHAPTER 10 AND I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT WITHOUT WAITING FOR THE NEXT POST. I FUCKING LOVE LUKE, buddy sprinted up there so say goodbey AND he handed Percy those sneakers ?

Naw I'm convinced of my theory now. No WAY Luke could ever be a bad guy ! Why go through all that trouble just to betray Percy in the end ? But also, found family sense are going strong in me rn. Greenest Flag if I have ever seen one. BUT ALSO HE GIVES HEADPATS ? AKJFHQILUWEZBDIL I do still think he has some issues going on tho, poor lad. I hope he get's therapy and a good hug. he deserves it.

#no spoilers plz #or well #would be nice that if you do spoil smth you'd mark it beforehand or say it's a spoiler #so I can look away #percy pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percy and grover #percy and annabeth #annabeth pjo #luke castellan

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pssy-wagn · 1 year ago

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Day 13: Flirt

“Hey, how you doing?” Dean saddles up to the unoccupied stool near the gorgeous guy.

“Bad,” the stranger answers.

“Why bad?”

“Because people keep bugging me,” the man gives him an intense stare to back away.

Instead of backing away, Dean puts up two fingers to get the bartenders’ attention.

“So what’s your name?” Dean smirks.

“Castiel. Now leave me alone.”

As the bartender puts their drinks down in front of them, Dean raises his glass to Castiel, “To you.”

Exhaling an exhausted sigh, Castiel picks up his shot and downs it quickly without making a face unlike Dean.

“My name’s Dean Winchester.”

“Okay.”

“So uh, you have the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“You are the third person to say that tonight.”

“But I bet I’m the only one to stay beside you when you treated them like shit.”

Castiel lets his shoulders fall as he looks at a smirking Dean, “If I’m treating you like shit, why don’t you leave?”

“Maybe because I know this isn’t who you really are. If a little flirting doesn’t give me any attention, annoyance will.”

Cas looks away to hide his smile.

“I saw that smile; don’t try to hide, Cas.”

“Cas?”

“No one’s given you that nickname before? Dude, your name is a mouthful. Good thing I only have four letters in mine.”

As the bartender comes by, Cas lifts up two fingers, “Two shots please.”

Dean smiles wide at him, “I knew you were polite. When you wanna be. So what is a tax accountant doing in a fucked up dive bar like this? Broke up with someone? Got fired?”

“Just one of those days.”

“Yeah, I know how that is. Hey, you see that pool table over there?”

Cas looks at the direction where Dean is pointing, “of course.”

“I’ll make you a bet. If I could land six balls in one shot, I get your phone number.”

“And if you lose?”

“I’ll stop bothering you.”

As Cas grabs a pen from his trenchcoat pocket, he takes a napkin and writes down something. Folding it, he puts it in his pocket and extends his hand for Dean to shake, “Deal.”

Downing his drink, Dean slaps the counter as he basically jumps off the stool and jogs to the empty pool table.

“You’re in a happy mood when you’re going to lose.”

“Ooooh talkin’ shit, Cas? I kinda like that,” Dean says with a wink.

As Dean is setting up everything so carefully on the pool table, Cas orders a beer for each of them.

“Come on, Dean, you’re taking too long.”

“I’ve never heard that before,” Dean says showing a sliver of tongue between his teeth.

“You have a dirty mind.”

“Thank you.”

“Not a compliment.”

“Well..disagree. You get to know me better, you’ll know why it’s constantly dirty.”

Dean strokes his pool stick as he stares at Castiel with heat in his eyes. Cas blushes as he sips his beer.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute, Cas. Okay, I gotta chalk up my long stick, gimme a sec.”

As Dean bends down to set up his shot, Cas makes his way a little towards the back of Dean. When he stops moving, Dean wiggles his ass, “Get a good look yet?” he says as he looks behind himself.

“You’re a very attractive man, Dean.”

“Was that a flirt? Finally?”

“I suppose it was.”

“Dude, you gotta work on it more. I’ll help you if you want but only if you flirt with me.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Awesome.”

As Dean positions himself again, he tells Cas, “Okay so I’m gonna make all these balls, without a scratch.”

“So everything is going to go in except the white ball?”

“Yeah in one go.”

“Go for it.”

“Are you rooting for or against me?”

“I’ll let you know once you attempt your trick shot.”

Taking a gulp of beer, Dean takes a huge breath as he re-positions himself for the shot again.

“Ready?”

“Stop stalling, Dean. Do it.”

“Pushy.”

As Dean gets focused and serious, he finally hits the cue ball, knocking every single ball in the pockets, including the white ball. Standing up straight, he lets out a frustrated exhale. He slowly makes his way to Cas with a small pout on his face.

“Alright, I guess I’ll leave you alone.”

As he walks by Cas, Cas grabs his wrist, bringing him to face him, “Dean.” Cas reaches into his pocket and gives him his napkin, “The white ball never went in.”

Dean smiles as he takes the napkin and opens it.

I knew you weren’t going to make it but I love seeing you try hard for this

563-6682

“Wait. How did you know I wasn’t gonna make it?”

“Had a feeling”, Cas shrugs as he winks awkwardly at Dean, making Dean bust out laughing.

“Okay, next time, try winking with one eye open.”

#suptober23 #destiel ficlet #Castiel #dean winchester

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glitteringcrab · 7 months ago

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SCHEMATICS BOOGER-AIDS-V1 (aka: the first Omega Device)

Season 6, Episode 10 "Ricktional Mortpoons Rickmas Mortcation"

At the beginning of the episode, we see Rick C-137 attempting to track Rick Prime using a killbot (presumably stolen during S6E1):

By the end of the same episode, the view pans out and we get a full view of Rick's sub-basement:

Note the hologram of naked Rick Prime dancing in the centre.

Season 7, Episode 1 "How Poopy Got His Poop Back"

Instead of the hologram of the naked dancing Prime, we have a computer monitor.

When Morty asks him if he's made any progress, Rick sarcastically replies that he totally found the version of himself that killed his wife (heh) and they had a big fight offscreen and Morty just missed it!

Season 7, Episode 5 "Unmortricken"

We see a view of Rick's sub-basement again, and guess what?

There is a clone in there now...!

So, the first thought that pops in our minds is that between S7E1 and S7E5 Rick C-137 went out hunting, defeated and successfully captured one of Rick Prime's clones!

...But Rick's line in S7E1 suggests that the fight might have happened shortly before the beginning of S7E1, and the Prime Clone was being analyzed offscreen somewhere at the time.

Alright, let's head off to the next point.

Inside the Box, Rick Prime announces to the Ricks captured that Diane has been erased from every universe across infinity.

To which Evil Morty responds:

Even though Rick C-137 knows how the infinite murder took place:

Evil Mortyyyyyyyyy... You had stolen Rick C-137's memories! Rick C-137 knows about this weapon, so you should know about it too! I mean, maybe Eyepatch Morty has passed by sentimental trivia of Rick's life when he watched the stolen memories, but this sort of weapon is definitely the sort of thing that would pique his interest (as we saw).

Why is Evil Morty not familiar with the Omega Device?

Well, the conclusion I get from the above is that Rick C-137 found out about the Omega Device after S5E10, after Evil Morty finished scanning his brain (and, uh, well, Evil Morty probably reached the same conclusion).

Gee, which inferior would that be?

(and I'm wondering if some sort of unspoken communication is passing between Rick C-137 and Evil Morty at that moment, because the moment Rick C-137 mentions the name of the device Evil Morty glares at him, understanding that something occurred after he had scanned Rick C-137's brain. And Rick seems quick to deny any involvement: he only heard the name of the Device from some random, "inferior" Rick lol. This does not seem to placate Evil Morty.)

Back at the safety of Rick's sub-basement, Evil Morty chastises Rick C-137 for not learning to cut his losses and quit:

And well, that line makes sense because Rick has ruined his life searching for Rick Prime, but it will make even more sense if my theory is correct :P

Rick, in turn, is already aware of the fact that Evil Morty is scared of the Omega Device.

Which, well, makes sense, but I remember being surprised at that moment. The possibility of Rick Prime targeting Mortys out of spite had not crossed my head, although from what we now know of Rick Prime, it's actually to be expected.

Let's head to my third and final point:

Rick, Rick, Riiiick... Why would you be bummed he built it again (after it was presumably destroyed somehow, by someone, in the past)? Of course Rick Prime built it again, why did you expect/hope it'd be otherwise?

And why would Rick Prime building the machine again be "impressive"? Even from Season 1 Diane was never around, she's been dead for years, obviously from the Omega Device! That's plenty of time for someone to destroy the first Omega Device, and for Rick Prime to build it again.

Of course, it's possible Rick Prime made the first Omega Device a long time ago, killed Diane, then had a clone guard his superweapon for many years, and Rick C-137 found and destroyed the weapon only recently (so of course he'd be surprised and bummed that Rick Prime re-built the weapon so soon)...

BUT.

Interesting line, isn't it? And doesn't Rick appear to be seething in this scene?

Now, supposing Rick Prime has been messing with time... Isn't it possible that:

Shortly before S7E1 Rick C-137 managed to trace one of Rick Prime's clones/decoys, which eventually led him to the Omega Device v1 (pardon, Booger Aids v1)

And that Rick Prime's clone retroactively killed Diane across all infinities?

Wouldn't this theory make Rick's line in the above screenshot a lot more literal?

Wouldn't it make Evil Morty's glare in the box a lot more accusing?

Wouldn't it give more meaning to Evil Morty's remark about Rick C-137 "reaaally learning [his] lesson about chasing this guy"?

Wouldn't it make the threat of the Omega Device a lot more imminent, and a lot more personal, to Evil Morty? After all, if Diane is gone, killed a few months ago in retaliation not to a hundred different Ricks pissing off Rick Prime, but specifically to Rick C-137's failed quest for revenge, who is next when Rick C-137 next fails?

Wouldn't it make Rick Prime's line ("this guy does not know when to quit") a lot... heavier?

Honestly, for me, the cherry-on-top of this theory is the possibility of Rick Prime and Rick C-137 bickering: Rick Prime's clone proudly presenting the "Omega Device", Rick C-137 calling that name dumb, and then Rick Prime changing it to: "the weapon too cool for a name" lol

#he built it again #rick prime #rick c-137 #rick sanchez #omega device #rick and morty #rick c137 #rick c 137

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imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese · 21 days ago

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Destinytober24: Day 23 - Perfection

Dinner for three.

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

"Very good. Now, focus on the interstitial aspects of the crystalline structure. Feel how you can weaken or strengthen the bonds through the nature of its geometric arrangement. You are seeking to locate and place pressure on the liminal spaces between the bonds. This will enable you to reinforce the foundation or shatter it."

"I see now. Yes. It is not the edges but the inner composition."

"Precisely. Now, try to win… if you can."

Eris Morn and Ikora Rey floated a few feet apart from each other in the middle of Ikora's living room inside of the Warlock Vanguard's apartments within the Tower. Their hands were outstretched. Between them, a sphere of Stasis was simultaneously forming and being dissipated as each one attempted to gently undo the work of the other's manipulation of the entropic forces they had manifested between them.

It was an exercise that the Drifter and Eris had practiced together on Europa, taught to them by Elsie Bray. Eris was now using it to teach Ikora some of the finer points of Stasis wielding.

Ikora's living room was half library, half dining area, with three of its four walls covered in immaculately arranged bookshelves.

The two women hovered in the air over a large woven rug with an intricate pattern. The rug covered one half of the floor. The other half of the floor was hardwood, a luxury few in the Last City could afford. In the middle of that half of the room, a beautifully carved dining table was set for three, with a lit candelabra in the centre, fine china, and long stemmed wine glasses.

Through an archway there was a loud sizzling sound and the occasional clatter of pans and cooking. The Drifter had taken over Ikora's kitchen for the evening.

Ikora's half of the Stasis sphere seemed to be overtaking Eris' but the Warlock had known Eris long enough to assume her three-eyed friend would not lose so easily.

"Alright, alright, alright," the Drifter stepped out of the kitchen, his hands covered in oven mitts with beautiful purple embroidery on them.

"Oooh! You're doing the take over the world thing! That's fun." He walked over to where Ikora was floating and looked up at the sphere.

"Uh oh, Ray-ray. You're about to lose."

"Am I?" Ikora asked idly.

"Uh… yup. You're too focused on the outside. Ya left your middle undefended. She can just…"

Ikora's eyes narrowed. Three cracks appeared across her side of the structure. The Warlock concentrated, trying to knit them together.

"…do that. Now you're screwed. Ya can't recover from that."

The corner of Eris' lip quirked as one third of the sphere shattered, causing a chain reaction which reduced the rest of the structure to small shards. The shards fell down onto the carpet where they glittered prettily like glass beads in the light as they slowly began to dissipate.

"Eris is a very aggressive player," the Drifter explained. "Ya can't over extend or she'll get right in there. And she's super fast too. As soon as ya start goin' in for the kill, that's when she springs, like a steel trap. Gotta go heavy on the defense with Three-Eyes or she'll pop ya right open just like that."

"I see." Ikora slowly descended to the floor.

"You are giving away all my secrets, Rat." Eris said as she, too, began floating toward the floor.

"Ya beat the pants offa me enough times before I figured that one out. She needs every advantage she can get. Speakin' of, can I interest you two badasses in fortifyin' yourselves for your next battle with dinner?"

"Yes," Eris answered immediately, walking toward the table. "We've been smelling it for the past hour."

"Sit yourselves down and I'll bring it right out."

Ikora sat at the head of the table with Eris to her side. The Drifter was back quickly, carrying the only kitchen implement he insisted upon bringing with him to Ikora's apartment: His cast iron frying pan. A loud hissing was coming from the pan, along with considerable smoke.

The rogue Lightbearer pulled out tongs he'd shoved handle-first into a pocket and placed a sizzling steak on each plate. Then he circled back to each plate in turn, drizzling the hot liquid from the pan onto the meat and placing several crisped herbs on top of each portion.

Eris's eyes dimmed slightly as she inhaled deeply, leaning over her plate.

"Now don't touch it for six minutes."

"What?" Eris's eyes flared bright again. "Why?"

"Because the meat needs to nap first."

"That is ridiculous."

"Trust me on this one. It's gotta take a little nap on your plate before ya cut into it or it won't be as good."

"Surely this is simply for dramatics."

Ikora sat back in her chair and watched them bicker with a bemused smile.

"No. It's not for dramatics. If it was for dramatics I'd be telling you somethin' like…"

He held the empty pan out and waved the tongs over it with a flourish as he spoke while deliberately looking off to the side with his eyes closed.

"Do ya feel the eerie movements of the dead animal's life force skitterin' around as I do… in the delirium between death and life, it broods upon yer plate… Knowin' you are about to consume it into yer vicious hungry maws… devourin' its flesh to take its power and infuse it inta yer own. Ooooh Oooohhhh!" He shivered in an exaggerated manner.

Ikora burst out laughing.

Eris stiffened. "I do not sound like that."

"Well now I didn't say ya did. I was just showin' what it would be if I was bein' dramatic, Moondust. Not everything's about you."

Eris turned to Ikora. "Do I sound like that?"

Ikora covered her mouth with her hand. "Sometimes a little bit."

Eris glared up at the Drifter. He spread his arms out wide and leaned across the table, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Six minutes," he insisted. "You! Ghost!"

A single tone came from Eris' pocket.

"Time that."

The tone came again.

"Now don't cheat, Three-Eyes." He pointed at her with the tongs. "I'll be right back."

"I am not the one who cheats," she called after him as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Ikora laughed again.

As promised the Drifter returned almost immediately, carrying one of Ikora's pans filled with buttery golden mushrooms. He placed a heap of them on top of the steak on each plate before making two more trips to the kitchen. The Drifter brought back long green beans in some sort of sauce and small roasted potatoes tossed with herbs, placing them around the steaks on each plate with the tongs. On his third trip he returned with an opened bottle of red wine.

"It smells so good." Eris murmured as the Drifter sat, picking up Ikora's glass and filling it half way with wine.

Then he stopped. He tilted his head before lifting the glass up and down in his hand, feeling its weight, and then holding it up to examine it carefully near the candle flames.

"Ooooh."

He placed the wine bottle down and reached out with his other hand to lightly flick the side of the glass. It made a pleasant chiming sound.

"You hear that?" he asked Eris.

"Yes," Eris looked across the table at him, confused.

"This is actual crystal." he said. He looked over at Ikora, clearly impressed.

"Yes, it is." Ikora said warmly.

"I do not understand," Eris regarded him, perplexed at his behaviour. "What is the difference?"

"Well, it's thinner," the Drifter explained as he finished pouring wine into Ikora's glass and reached out for Eris'. "More delicate, but also heavier, and the sound."

He flicked Eris' glass, It was empty and made a higher pitched sound.

"I heard. Does it have a… different chemical composition from glass?"

"Yeah. Lead maybe? I can't remember."

"Lead, yes." Ikora confirmed.

"This stuff hasn't been made in a very, very long time." He filled Eris' glass with wine and handed it to her. "This is old-old. Rare. I knew Vanguard would be high-class, but damn."

"It was a gift," Ikora explained. "I do not use them often. Eris said you were excited to cook something special for us. It seemed appropriate to bring out the fancy glasses."

"I wish I'd brought a fancier wine." He filled his own glass and placed the bottle on the table, holding the glass up to the light and looking at it. "Damn!"

The Drifter's ghost emitted its single tone from Eris' pocket.

The Drifter placed his wine glass down on the table and held up both his hands to show Eris and Ikora that they were empty. He wriggled his fingers and snapped both his hands with an exaggerated movement that flicked his wrists to the sides. A fork and knife materialized seemingly out of nowhere.

"Show time," the Drifter announced and began cutting into the meat on his plate.

Ikora raised one amused eyebrow and mentally reminded herself to count the fancy glasses after the Drifter had left. He wouldn't. She knew he wouldn't. It would upset Eris and he would not do that. But still… it was him…

Eris picked up her cutlery and eagerly cut off a piece of steak, putting it into her mouth. Her eyes dimmed as she chewed. Her usual slightly frowning expression began to shift, the corners of her lips lifting involuntarily into a smile as the Drifter watched her from his side of the table, a mixture of pride and delight on his face.

"Iss… so good." Eris mumbled through her mouthful of steak.

One of the system's most notorious criminals looked almost bashful as his eyes turned toward the Vanguard spymaster, seeking her approval of the meal.

Ikora finished chewing the small bite of steak she had sliced for herself and took a sip of wine. The Drifter licked his lips.

"It is. It is very good." Ikora confirmed and smiled at him.

The Drifter's face was downright gleeful as he grinned and took a bite of his own. "Oh yeah," he said out of the side of his mouth while he chewed it slowly. "This right here? This is what perfection tastes like. This. Right here. Right now." He swallowed and sipped his wine before repeatedly skewering mushroom slices on his fork until they formed a small frilly mouthful which he proceeded to devour.

"I am inclined to agree," Ikora said warmly and continued slicing her food into small pieces, taking polite and careful bites, her elbows off the table.

The Drifter reached his left arm out along the table and Eris did the same with her right, idly sliding her fingers into his hand in an automatic way that made it clear they did this all the time.

Ikora watched them as she sipped her wine, seeing the genuine adoration on the Drifter's face as he seemed to have difficulty looking away from Eris for any length of time. Meanwhile Eris moved with a comfortable ease that Ikora had not seen her display in a very, very long time. The Warlock felt like a weight was lifting off of her the more she watched them.

Eris was happy. She was sitting at Ikora's dinner table in civilian clothes. The top half of her face was still bandaged, albeit with a nicer cloth than she wore on the Moon. Her three Hive eyes still dripped ichor down her cheeks in endless tears, but Ikora saw parts of the Eris she had known centuries ago returning beneath them.

"This is one of them perfect moments you were talkin' about, Moondust," the Drifter said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, almost reverent, as he chewed his steak.

"Hmmm…?"

"This, right now. Good food. Good friends. Fancy as fuck wine glasses."

Both Eris and Ikora smirked at the honesty in his crudeness.

"This one of those times we file away in our brains and keep. Somethin' special to hold onto when shit gets bad. A good memory for when things are makin' it so you can't remember what feelin' good feels like. This is one of those times you keep in your back pocket and hold close so you can remind yourself that good things do actually happen sometimes. That they did actually happen to you. That it's possible they can happen to you again."

Eris squeezed his hand. "Yes. It is."

She reached out with her left hand and opened it in front of Ikora. Ikora placed her own well manicured fingers between Eris' calloused ones, noting how cool her skin was to the touch, how firmly Eris gripped her hand, and how contented the sigh was that left Eris' lips.

There was movement out of the corner of her eye and Ikora looked away from Eris in surprise to see the Drifter's open hand tentatively reached out toward her. He did not make eye contact with her and continued to look at Eris. He was holding his breath.

Ikora raised an eyebrow but took the criminal's hand in hers as well, feeling the warmth coming from him. It was, she realized, the first time she and the Drifter had ever physically touched each other. Ikora watched as a small, almost shy smile overtook his face.

The three of them sat like that together, simply feeling the moment in quiet appreciation. They did not stay that way for long, but it felt significant. Purposeful. A deliberate choice to share in a silent communion. There was weight to it and all three of them felt it. It felt right.

And then the Drifter gave both Eris and Ikora's hands a quick squeeze before once more picking up his fork and knife to continue eating. His eyes sparkled in delight as though he had just unexpectedly won a priceless treasure at a game of chance. Perhaps he had.

Ikora continued to hold Eris's hand, delighting in the small genuinely happy smile on her face.

The Warlock Vanguard reached out with her free hand and raised her wine glass.

"To perfect moments."

Three crystal glasses clinked together in the middle of the table, each with different levels of wine, causing them to ring out with three separate but pleasingly harmonized tones.

"Hey! That's like… downright musical," the Drifter said with a grin.

"You had to have done this on purpose. There's no way for it to have harmonized that precisely. You poured the wine."

"No!" he laughed. "I didn't do anything. Trust. It just happened like that."

"It's true," Ikora said. "I have been sipping mine. It was unintentional, but… beautiful."

"Yeah! I guess.. I guess sometimes things just… work out." The Drifter's voice trailed off as he spoke, as though he was surprising himself with what was coming out of his own mouth.

"Yes," Ikora smiled. "Sometimes they do."

Link to the entire month's worth of prompts on Ao3, posted daily.

#destinytober24 #destinytober #destinytober 2024 #destiny 2 #moonrat #the drifter #eris morn #ikora rey #drifteris #friendship #ao3 #fanfiction #writing #perfection #imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese #cs member writing

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lum13 · 2 years ago

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Romance 101.

Part 3 of the mute series.

How to get your crush to like you back? It’s not hard– according to the sites you visited on google. Sure, she might have ignored you a few times, might dislike you a tiny bit. But it was alright, you could get her to like you. You think.

Wednesday Addams x fem! Reader

Taglist: @kaitlynroseb @idkjustliving2 @angel-luv-04 @left-and-right-up-and-down @reginassweetheart @thekid4466 @engenelxver @rainbow-love4ever @thenextdawn @sanguis-lupus95 @an-incompetent-writer @alexkolax @ognenniyvolk

Your eyes found the raven haired girl who was seated across the room. You could do this.

1.put yourself out there.

“Wednesday, I heard of a new movie coming out this month.”

Wednesday lifted her head, looking up from her book. She furrowed her eyebrows, as if she’s not getting what you’re trying to say.

“Wanna watch it? together, I mean.”

You watched as her features hardened at your words. Uh oh.

She grabbed her pen that was rolling around on the desk, before scribbling on her paper. Once she had finished, she held it up to your eyes, almost too close for you to read.

No.

You smiled through the pain. Well, it was worth a try.

2. find out what your crush is passionate about.

“The only thing she loves is her dead scorpion.”

You groaned, slapping your hand over your head. “There must be something she likes that I can talk about without being uncomfortable!”

Enid shrugged, scrolling through her phone. sprawled over her mattress, you peeked through your fingers, staring at the ceiling above.

“Well, she certainly likes writing violent novels and pla—” Your friend’s words were cut off from the swing of the door. The pair jumped from the bed, snapping their heads towards the sudden motion.

“Wednesday!” Enid chuckled, “We were just talking about you.”

The girl gave her a look, making her smile awkwardly. You could tell what she was thinking by that glare– it was obvious she wasn’t expecting you here, and didn’t want you to be here. Through that hurt like needles onto your heart, you managed to keep your face calm.

“So um, wednesday, what do you like?” You asked, sitting upright with your legs crossed. The girl’s glare traveled from the blonde to you, and you gulped under the tense air.

She kept her eyes fixated on you for a moment– before rolling her eyes, pulling her note and her pen out of her pocket. You gulped as the silence continued.

My favorite hobby happens to use a knife and a shovel.

You raised your eyebrows. Okay, she doesn’t want to talk to you at the moment. Got the message.

3. make eye contact.

Wednesday’s sharp and unnerving look flashed in your mind. You laughed anxiously just by the memory of it.

Nope, not happening. You think, as you scrolled through the lists on wikihow.

4. Talk to your friend about them.

This will help you get a third person’s point of your relationship with your crush. Who knows, they might like you back!

“Hey, do you think Wednesday likes me? She ignores me a little, turns down all my attempts to hang out with her, but she could be a hard to get kind of girl for all I know.”

Your friend tore her eyes away from her screen, turning to face you. You looked at her full of hope, almost pleading.

“I—“ she started, but was stopped by a figure passing by. Your attention was immediately drawn from her as you gasped.

“Wednesday! How are you today?” You beamed, your voice ringing through the hallways.

It was either that your voice couldn’t be heard by her from the sea of people that surrounded you— or she just didn’t feel like talking to you. But she brushed past, not even giving you a glance.

You pouted, watching as the raven haired girl made her way through. “She’s just shy.”

“You know what?” Your friend said, “I was going to say that you’re right, she could be one of those hard to get girls, but I’m sorry, I personally think she hates you.”

You whined.

5. Touch incidentally.

Your heart was beating so fast you could almost hear it pounding loudly in your ears. Slowly, you slid your fingertips towards Wednesday.

Your fingertips met hers with electricity all over your skin. You shivered slightly.

Peering over, you studied her expression. Nothing. It was neutral, not changing, just her usual poker face.

You were wondering if she didn’t notice the touch until she pulled away, standing up from her chair, dusting her uniform before walking away.

Did you get rejected? You think so.

6. Tell her how much you appreciate her.

Your words were stolen from you the second you locked eyes with her. Moonlight kissing her skin, her hair cupping her face so, so beautifully you forgot how to talk once again.

She was exquisite.

“Um,” you stuttered, “I just wanted to say that—“

You glanced at her dark lips. The butterflies went frenzy in your stomach.

She raised her brows, running out of patience.

“Nothing.” You managed, “I forgot what I was gonna say.”

You kept your smile on as the girl walked away.

You chickened out. What a shame.

7. Spend time with her.

“Wednesday, are you—“

Your hands still gripped on the door handle, you halted in surprise. No one was in the dorm? Why wasn’t Wednesday there? She should’ve been here, waiting for your presence. It was the last day for her to meet you— well, last day for the project, anyways.

Your eyebrows knitted in confusion, you scanned the room, looking for anything she could’ve left behind. Maybe she left for some water?

Cautiously, you stepped into the room before spotting a note on her desk. Ah ha, you cheered mentally. She did leave you something after all.

Excited, you made your way to the desk, picking the small paper up for you to see.

Your grin faded away as soon as you read it.

I understand that you like me, but I do not take an interest in you. Please stop hoping, I am not your soulmate, and is not yours.

It was like being kicked in your guts. Yes, you realized, she’s not your soulmate. She was never your soulmate. She will not love you, and she doesn't feel the same way as you did.

Your little fantasy came crashing down, and it hurt. More than you’d like to admit.

You didn’t even notice your vision blurring up. The crack in your heart pained you so much, it distracted you from the teardrops falling down your cheeks.

She was never your soulmate. What were you thinking, hoping?

Soft whimpers leaving your lips, your mind chanting the same words over and over again. She was never yours. She was never yours.

She was never yours.

angst ;)

also hello, was that too rushed? I can’t tell :(

#Wednesday Addams x reader #Wednesday x reader #wednesday Addams x you #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday x you #jenna Ortega x reader #wednesday series

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bow-of-aros · 28 days ago

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Day Sixteen: Cackle

Summary: Steph wants to know if Peter, Ruth, and Richie want to come over to her place, but Ruth and Richie have decided to be pains in the ass so Peter doesn't think they should be allowed to.

They don't exactly take too kindly to that :)

Guys. GUYS. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!!!!!! I literally went crazy writing this fic why haven't I written them before?????? They're so precious and I just alsdj;kflasjkdsajdp you know?? Anyway, I hope that y'all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it <33

Peter was hanging out with Ruth and Richie at Richie’s after school.

Well, technically, they were supposed to be studying for the biology test at the end of the week, but it was only Monday, and none of them were that nervous about it.

And, the call of Super Smash Bros was just too strong to resist.

After winning his third game in a row, and subsequently performing his third victory dance, his friends started getting really competitive, which was a little terrifying considering the baseline level of Ruth’s competitiveness on any given day.

“Come on, Peter!” Ruth whined after a Smash Attack sent her flying off the platform, “When the hell did you get good at this? What happened to little Petey Pie who used to jump into the void all the time?”

Peter dodged an attack from Richie, floating up into the air just to slam back down, “He got sick of his friends kicking his ass all the time and decided to do some ass-kicking of his own. HA! Take that, fucker!”

The screen flashed as Ruth and Richie groaned, proclaiming Peter as the victor once more.

“You are not playing as your main next time! You can be, like, Doctor Mario or something.” Richie was already setting up the next game thanks to his eternal claim as player one.

I’m the best of you! And you’re the best of me! And together we are free—

“Hey Steph! What’s up?”

Peter ignored the way Richie gagged at the sound of his ringtone and how Ruth’s eyes lit up at Steph’s name, pressing his phone against his ear with his shoulder in order to select Steve from the collection of avatars before either of his friends could get to it.

“Oh, nothing much!” Steph’s voice came through a little tinny, and Peter wouldn’t be surprised if he was on speaker while she did some chores around the house.

“I was just wondering if you had anything planned tomorrow night.”

As Steph was talking, Ruth was doing her level best to crawl across Peter’s lap and put her ear up to his phone despite his attempts to elbow her away.

“Lemme hear!” Ruth hissed.

Peter just stuck his tongue out and redoubled his efforts.

“Uh, no, not really!” His phone jostled as Richie tried to wedge it out from under his ear and Peter had to snatch it back, “Why do you ask?”

“Are you doing alright over there, Pete?” Steph’s voice was tinged with amusement as though she could see the human pretzel that Ruth and Richie were dragging him into.

“Yeah! Everything’s fine!” Peter swatted Richie’s prying hands while attempting to use his feet to keep Ruth away, “What were you gonna ask?”

He could hear something rustle as Steph picked her phone up, turning it off of speaker mode and holding it up to her ear.

He could also hear the overlapping “Come onnnnnnn,” and “We just wanna say hi!” from his friends as Richie tried once again to worm his fingers around Peter’s phone.

“Ah!” And wriggling right against his neck.

Silence echoed as Ruth and Richie exchanged evil looks.

Aw fuck.

“—if you three would want to hang out at my place?” Peter had missed the first half of that sentence due to the now-sporadic squeezes at his knees and more purposeful scratching at his neck, but he was sure that he could make an educated guess.

“I, uh, I don’t know if they can mAKE ihit.”

He’d nearly gotten through the whole sentence without cracking, but then Ruth had started spidering her fingers in the soft spot behind his knees which she knew was unfair, and a small squeak had broken through.

Peter did his best to seal his lips shut as Steph said, “Aw, are you sure? My dad will be out and I can order all of us pizza.”

“Mhm!”

You see, Peter would feel bad about lying to Steph on a regular day. But, considering that his friends had decided to be conniving assholes today, he figured that she would forgive him just this once.

“Are you sure that you’re alright? You sound kinda…nervous.”

Steph sounded genuinely concerned, so Peter kicked Ruth back into the couch and threw an elbow into Richie’s gut so that he could scramble to his feet, trying to subtly catch his breath.

“Yeah, sorry!” They were both already up and after him, so Peter had to dodge grabbing hands as he said, “It’s just that I think Ruth and Richie are too busy being annoying little brats to hang out tomorrow night!”

Twin gasps echoed through the room as both Ruth and Richie’s jaws dropped in indignation.

“How dare you—”

“Spankoffski get your lying ass over here!”

Peter dove out of the way just in time to hear Steph’s “Ohhhhhhhh,” of realization before she broke out into laughter.

“You really had me worried for a second there, Pete!” Richie caught him around the waist and started the not-so-difficult process of wrestling him to the ground, “Maybe you can come over and they can join when they learn to behave!”

It seemed like Ruth heard that last part as she let out an affronted “HEY!”

“Yeah, I think that would be bEST—Wait! Richie nononono shihihihit!”

Ruth managed to pry his phone out of his hands as Richie went straight for the kill, drawing out frantic cackles with ruthless clawing at his ribs.

“Hey, Steph!” Ruth said cheerfully as a sudden jump to Peter’s upper ribs startled a shriek out of him before falling back into hysterics.

“This is for playing the same overpowered character in Smash Bros! SMASH ATTACK!” Richie cried as he vibrated a hand into his victim’s stomach, prompting him to curl up in hopeless defense.

Meanwhile, Ruth was still talking to Steph, “Oh, we would love to come over to hang out! But,” she added, cutting Peter a sly glance, “we don’t want to intrude if Peter doesn’t want us there!”

She stood there for a moment, nodding to whatever Steph was saying, “Of course! Here, you can ask him yourself!”

And then she hit a button on his phone and Steph’s voice rang out, “Hey Pete! So, I was just talking to Ruth and I wanted to double-check if you were totally sure about them not being able to make it tomorrow night.”

“Steheheheph! Hehehehelp!” Was all he could get out in between fits of laughter.

His friends broke out into giggles as Steph said, “I can’t do much for you right now, but if you bring Ruth and Richie over I could help you out with some well-earned revenge! How does that sound?”

Peter could feel Richie’s fingers falter at the threat and see the faint blush rising on Ruth’s face through the tears that had begun to form in his eyes.

“Okay! Deal! They can come!” He took advantage of Richie’s moment of hesitation to get out his response and quickly rolled away, popping up to snatch his phone back out of Ruth’s hands.

“See you tomorrow! Love you! Bye!” And he hung up the phone to the sound of Steph’s laughter before whirling around to his so-called friends.

Peter flung one choice finger out at Ruth, “Fuck you!”

And then the other at Richie, “Fuck you more!”

They just grinned at him as he slumped back down on the couch and reached for his controller, “I think I deserve to kick your asses for a bit now.”

The groans that they let out were undermined by the way they both picked up their own remotes before sitting on either side of him. Richie leaned against Peter while Ruth dropped her head on his shoulder, and the warmth seeped through to his very core.

Well, Peter thought as Richie hit play, there are definitely worse ways to spend an evening than with my two best friends.

Now to kick. Their. Asses.

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kinghe · 5 months ago

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for @akai-anna

1.7k | rated T

Akashi watched the ripples of the pond by his sandals, his arms tucked into the sleeves of his yukata in an attempt to avoid the inevitability of mosquitos. Tokyo's summer heat triumphed even well into the evening, keeping all but the blaring song of cicadas docile and languid.

"What are you doing over there, obocchan? Don't fall in."

"I would appreciate it if you would stop calling me that, Nijimura-san."

"Why not?" Nijimura came to stand by his side with a grin Akashi sensed through his words, spared from straining his neck to look. "It suits you."

Akashi blew out a soft sigh and sent an immediate warning glance before Nijimura's large hand could ruffle the top of his head. "Alright, alright," came Nijimura's amused mutter, stuffing his hand back into his pocket. "Want me to show you how?"

A smile graced Akashi's lips, slow and nearly imperceptible. He said, "if Nijimura-san is willing to indulge me, then of course, I must take him up on his offer."

"I'll teach you the proper way. Not like those idiots," Nijimura said, crouching down and rummaging through stones. The idiots he was referring to, Aomine and Kise (with Kuroko caught at the scene of the crime), were squabbling as much as they were competing earlier that day.

"You'll want to find one with a flat edge, see. Like this one. And you gotta get the right angle, so lean down a little. The technique is in the hand, so if you hold it like this... oi. You listening?"

"Yes."

Nijimura gestured him closer by crooking his finger, and Akashi bent at the knees, bracing his hands atop. Like this, they weren't so different in height. "You got it?"

Akashi's stone counted to a total of nine skips and skidding to a dribble at the end - to Nijimura's measly six.

Nijimura watched the affair with crossed arms, and spoke only a minute after Akashi's stone breached the surface and disappeared.

"Yep," he said, "that checks out."

Akashi allowed the harassment of his hair this time.

ii.

"Hey," Nijimura said when Akashi opened the door. "Thought you might be awake. Uh. My roommate brought a girl over and locked me out."

Akashi stared. "It's a long walk from your dormitory to mine. If you need a place to stay, there are surely better candidates on campus. Reo, for example."

"Actually," Nijimura scratched his cheek, the neutral scowl of his face enhanced with the situation, "I was going to ask you to help mediate stuff with the supervisor after I've put my foot through the door. Since I'll most likely break it."

Akashi blinked slowly.

"...since you're, you know, good with that kind of thing."

"I see." Akashi said. After a beat, he swung the door the rest of the way and stepped back, allowing Nijimura passage.

"Oh, it's fine. I didn't want to inconvenience you more than I already am."

"Come," Akashi said, neither a suggestion nor a demand, and rather a third, more absolute thing. The circumstance had tickled Akashi somehow, he could tell, despite the infallibility of mismatched eyes.

Nijimura paused, hand on the door frame as he frowned down at him.

Akashi smiled. "It would be my folly as captain to merely observe the overexertion of one of our star players." Nijimura had learned fast that if there was amusement, excitement - rather, any stimulation, it would show in the intensifying of Akashi's gaze rather than the cold curl of his lips. "There will be no need for violence tonight."

"Aye aye, captain." Nijimura muttered underneath his top lip, sliding past Akashi into a room that was double the size of his own, and with half a mind to flick his junior-in-middle-school-now-irritatingly-grown-up-and-in-high-school's forehead to prove him wrong. Just as soon as he stopped being ridiculously frightening.

iii.

"You used to be cute." Nijimura told him over lunch at a cafe Mibuchi insisted on to celebrate Sei-chan's graduation but deemed themselves too unwell to attend.

"Used to?" Akashi repeated, interested.

"Yeah, when you followed me around like a little duckling." Nijimura leaned back with an expression of mourning. "Now you're a menace."

Akashi raised an eyebrow.

"-Devil incarnate." Nijimura rectified.

Akashi placed the teacup between his lips and took a sip. Seemingly appeased.

"I can revert to that, if you like."

The smirk was concealed by the rim of Akashi's cup, but Nijimura caught it all the same. "No way."

"Why not? It seems to be what you prefer," Akashi quipped. Nijimura steeled himself in stone-faced despair, caught into a snare of his own making. Akashi's lips were pale pink and soft and tended to part and curl meticulously around words for clear and precise enunciation, "Senpai."

Nijimura angrily sipped his own tea like it would alleviate the heat rising in his ears.

iv.

"Ironically, you seem to become cuter as you age." Akashi said thoughtfully, "it is no easy feat to surpass me. I must commend you, Senpai."

"Oh, shut up."

a. (that one au)

"You're here again," Nijimura blurts out. Behind him somewhere, someone snickers (a mental note to have Tatsuya in a headlock as soon as the cafe closes and no one is there to report him to authorities).

"Your words imply that this is a bad thing." Redhead says lightly (mental note to somehow kick himself in the ass even later after Tatsuya has left). "I apologise if my presence is unsavory to you."

"It's not. Of course not." Nijimura says in a stilted voice. He places the menu on the table before the man, and averts his eyes when he realises he's been staring too long at the protrusion of collarbones and the shadows that dip below the fabric of a neckline. "Here."

A small smile forms on Redhead's lips. "In that case, I am flattered to have made some kind of impression on you."

"I think you'd have that effect on anyone you come across." It comes out before Nijimura's brain could activate and review, and immediately flushes. "You've got," he makes some helpless gesture, "bright red hair and - shit, I'm just gonna stop talking."

A chuckle. "No, I assure you. Please, continue."

"I wont."

"A shame. You are also exceptionally memorable, though I am certain you know this already."

"Right, yeah. The tatts," Nijimura mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. He tries his best to hide them; the manager's complaints are a ceaseless cover up, you idiot, you're scaring all my customers away and do you ever stop glaring and what are you, a delinquent? Simply put, it's not good for business.

"Well, no." Redhead blinks. "It is because you are quite handsome."

Every customer service platitude dies on Nijimura's tongue. Any semblance of coherency escapes his brain. He is an unbreathing, immobile, useless mass and this man calmly scans through the menu and then slides it back into Nijimura's stiff grasp.

"Today's special looks delightfully appetizing. I'll have that." Redhead smiles, "and your number, if you please."

Nijimura's jaw goes slack, and he strangles out some sort of reply and manages some parody of a nod before he beelines to the kitchen.

Later, when he has cooled and checked to confirm that yes, he is no longer red everywhere, he brings the man's order to him. When expectant eyes follow, he exhales, digs into his pocket and offers the sticky note to the man.

The eye contact they share is too long for him to regain his bearings and he feels the blush crawling back with fervour, but forces himself not to look away. He waits in agony for the man to take his offering, but he does not, and is thus subject to further observation. Two striking red irises pierce into his gaze, dangerous and tender.

"I can't win, can I." He groans.

"I wasn't aware we were playing a game." Redhead finally takes the note and pockets it, radiating a satisfaction similar to that of a cat with a fat load of cream.

"...Yes, you were." Nijimura says dryly.

"It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Nijimura-san." He grins instead, a sharp, elegant thing. "My name is Akashi Seijuro. May I ask if you are free this evening?"

b. (senpai sandwich sandwich but nijimura is the filling )

"I cannot concentrate with this abhorrent noise. If you are insistent on such juvenile hobbies, perhaps you may find the bedroom amenable."

"Hey." Mayuzumi clicked his fingers in the direction of Nijimura. "You can tell ojousama over there that the communal area is what...? Oh yeah. A communal area."

Nijimura sighed long and bone-deep, as the quarreling continued over his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Chihiro, really. Although your childishness knows no bounds, this is unbecoming of even you."

"Tell ojousama that if he has a problem then maybe for once in his life, he can move to the bedroom."

As soon as the fight escalated to Mayuzumi rising from the couch to hurl insults, his rhythm game seemingly forgotten, and Akashi responding with retorts to further incense than to pacify, glacial grin growing with each word, Nijimura grabbed the back of Mayuzumi's shirt and yanked him down, in the same fashion, whipped his head around to shoot Akashi a dark look.

They both froze.

"Do I need to spank you both?" Nijimura snapped. "Is that it? Because it sounds to me like two annoying little brats are begging for it. Or am I mistaken? Won't someone," The glare he leveled bore the legend of diminishing better men in multitudes, "kindly tell me."

There was silence. Peace, even. For a brief moment.

"Why am I not surprised you're into that?" Mayuzumi rearranged himself on the couch. "It's got your name written all over it."

"Nijimura-san," Akashi tapped the tip of his pen to his lips. "is an organic case. He has been this way since middle school."

"Gross." Mayuzumi remarked. "You were playing into each other's kinks since before puberty."

"That's enough. If Nijimura-san would like to try something, it is only fair that we afford him the same safe space we have generously provided for you and your range of deviancy."

"Well, let's hear it then." Mayuzumi nudged Nijimura with his foot, "don't be shy."

Nijimura found the bedroom was indeed amenable, especially when locked.

#knb #nijimura shuzo #akashi seijuro #nijiaka #nijimura shuuzou #nijiakamayu #can you believe the last knb thing i wrote was 7 YEARS AGO jesus wept #but HI ANNA.... i sent you an ask about nijiaka earlier and you are so sweet #it was so lovely to hear from you i dont think we ever talked 1 on 1 but you were such a prevalent nijiaka ship captain #and i was and am deeply touched with how you would comment so lovingly on my (and everyone's fics) in the tags and just altogether #one of the loveliest people in fandom on the whole #it is very messy but please take this as token of my deep appreciation #in which nijimura suffers 5 times and it was unintentional every time #omg on his birthday too! that was also unintentional... happy birthday to the people's Senpai

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