#pretty sure he’s still active so yeah be careful

[dollivication]

ᥫ᭡. IF THEY GOT A HOLD OF YOUR PANTIES ᥫ᭡.

ᢉ𐭩 ft. hwang in-ho/player 001/the frontman, seong gi-hun/player 456, thanos/choi su-bong/player 230 , kang dae-ho/player 388, nam-gyu/player 124

ᢉ𐭩 cw: nsfw, perviness, panty-sniffing, masturbation, nam-gyu cussing you out/insulting you LOL??, fairly icky stuff, dirty fantasies, fem!reader. gooner activities. mdni

ᢉ𐭩 a/n: doesn’t take place in the games but… if you want to interpret this that way you can LOLS. sorry if it seems rushed i was very eager to take this out...

HWANG IN-HO/PLAYER 001/FRONTMAN

-honestly? he’d probably find it very endearing how you still maintain your style underneath all your clothes.

-he uses this as a better insight to your tastes. mentally noting down your preferences as he properly looks at the pair in his hands, turning the article of clothing around with a watchful gaze and rubbing it between his fingertips to feel the texture.

-lacy or simple? noted. silky or cotton? he’ll keep it in mind. dark or pastel? he’ll make sure to keep an eye out for something similar. he wants to know every aspect of your character, and this serves as the perfect chance. “How cute..” he’d muse.

-doesn’t judge whatsoever. after all, they belong to you, that by itself is a blessing. that being said, he doesn’t exactly have a need for them as he much prefers the thing that wears them. he prides himself on his self-control. you could not catch him acting like a hormonal teen.

-at the most, he’ll give them a tiny sniff, brushing his lips against them and flick the tip of his tongue out just to give himself the daily dose of your smell and taste, smiling to himself as he intakes the scent and flavor. but don’t worry, he puts them right back where he found them without ever telling a soul. <3

SEONG GI-HUN/PLAYER 456 (S1)

-his mind goes blank. does this make him a perv? well, probably. does he really care? somewhat. he wouldn’t have much of an explanation if someone walked in on him at that moment.

-just stares as he ponders what to do with them. he could put them down, pretend it never happened—it’s not like he had any bad intentions.. but an opportunity like this doesn’t come around often. and it’s been years since he had anything to properly give him a release.

-kind of has an inner battle over whether or not it’s worth actually being a dirty old man for relief or being a respectable one and giving up on this opening. yet of course.. he’s only human. and he just wants you so much :( !!

-pretty much uses your panties to muffle himself, sniffing at it like a dog whilst rutting slowly into a pillow. of course, the thin undergarments could only do so much in the face of his needy little sounds <3

-panting heavily, letting out grunts as he squeezes his eyes shut. “Please.. Please..” his face almost looks pained with a slack jaw and furrowed brow, hands grasping at the pillow beneath him to try and ground himself. (it doesn’t work, because he quickly begins to pick up the pace.)

-gasps when he finally climaxes, burying his face even deeper into your underwear to the point he might suffocate himself all while shooting out his seed over his pillow. feels pretty disgusted in himself and guilty after he comes down from his high, pouting a little at the mess he made. still, he can’t deny how blissful it felt. it was almost like you were right there with him…. </3

-keeps your panties. yeah, hopefully those weren’t your favorite pair—because they’re his now. he’ll return them at some point, but until then, if you ever exasperatedly tell him about the loss, gi-hun will keep his mouth shut and play the oblivious. >.<

THANOS/CHOI SU-BONG/PLAYER 230

-he looks like an immature highschool boy with the way he marvels at your panties, as if he hasn’t been in previous sexual flings and one-night stands where he has most likely witnessed all kinds of undergarments. and yanked them off…

-i guess the only reason why he’s so fascinated is because they’re yours. no way in hell you’d ever willingly give a pair to him—did you really think he wasn’t going to savor every moment of this? this is heaven served on a silver platter.

-it starts off as a joke for thanos, stretching the elastic waistband in various degrees and angles while giggling. maybe even uses them as a slingshot. he never imagined that he’d find himself in a position like this, you know? this is the type of shit you’d see in crappy rom-coms.

-all that runs through his head is something along the lines of “Hell yeah.. Nice.” UNTIL it finally occurs to him that, holy shit. he’s actually got your panties in his possession. the way he looks around to see if anyone’s by (despite obviously being alone) is damn well near cartoonish.

-wastes no time in lowering his pants to his knees, biting his bottom lip as he wraps a hand around his cock. he’s hard almost instantly, the thrill of doing something so filthy behind your back making his dick twitch and expel tiny drops of pre-cum.

-“Oh, fuuuck.. Mhm..” his words are shaky and border on a breathy chuckle, pumping his dick while raising his other hand to his face. takes sporadic sniffs of your panties, bunching them up in his palm whenever a particular stroke really made his hips buck.

-His head will roll back, his motions lazy and unhurried while he kicks and spreads his legs out. his voice is husky as he grunts out incoherent curses, gradually speeding his hand up before he eventually shoots out warm ropes of cum, letting the strands coat his fingers in short spurts.

-“Mannn...” he’d grumble, quite miffed by the fact that he was gonna have to clean up when the flow stopped. but he immediately cheers up, seeing that your panties were free from the spill. that meant he wasn’t gonna have to discard them just yet!!

-also keeps your panties and acts like he doesn’t know anything if they’re ever brought up in a conversation. he thinks of them as his personal lucky charm, which of course he won’t give up until he actually has to. but at that point, he’ll just try to get his hands on another pair and so on.. silly little addict :3c

KANG DAE-HO/PLAYER 388

-having been the youngest brother of 4 sisters, its safe to assume that he’s probably had similar occasions whilst doing laundry. bras, panties, he’s most likely handled them at least once throughout his life while being surrounded by women.

-thats not to say he doesn’t still get a little bit shy, even as an adult. its mostly out of respect more than it is embarrassment. he understands that underwear is meant to cover women’s privates, he’s been taught not to view them in a sexual light. but that’s because it came to family. there, underwear was just that—articles of clothing to literally wear under.

-this is a much different situation: being accidentally exposed to the type of undergarments his crush puts on. with the way he fumbles with your panties, you’d think they were sizzling hot and causing burns. poor dae-ho doesn’t know what to do !!

-especially not when his pants feel a little tighter than usual. his free hand will shoot down, try to adjust the tent forming with a tiny frown on his face. “Don’t be gross, Dae-ho. Cmon..” he’ll scold himself in a hushed whisper, but his body clearly having other plans.

-he’ll start to panic, desperately trying to make his boner die down. he swears he isn’t a perv, honest! he just can’t help but think about how good you’d look teasing him in them, rubbing your clothed pussy against his dick…!

-yeah, he’s got it bad. the imagery would make his dick stir that much more, practically throbbing as he hesitantly sneaks a hand beneath the waistband of his pants. “Shit, I’m so sorry—” he’d gasp out an apology followed by your name, his warm palm finally coming in contact with his aching cock, wrapping his fingers around the base.

-dae-ho’s eyes would flutter, his adam’s apple bobbing as he’d begin to jerk off at a moderate pace to the thought of you, wanton moans falling from his parted lips. he would swipe the pad of his thumb over his leaking tip, the motion causing a high pitched mixture of a whine and grunt. “Oh, god..”

-can’t help but to give your panties little licks, the taste of your cunt making his hips buck into his hand. the overwhelming feeling of his orgasm creeping up accompanied by a tugging guilt began to form tears in his eyes, nothing ever actually escaping yet threatening to.

-his back arches when he cums, thighs trembling as his digits tighten around your underwear, holding the pair close to his chest as he groans. “Yes! Oh, please, I love you—” his voice would tremble, practically breaking off into a small cry. his warm cum coats his hand, the latter continuing to give weak strokes until he’s unable to produce anymore.

-the moment he regains his composure and he realizes what he just did, he’ll be so disappointed in himself :( washes his hands with soap like 4 times, as if it’ll get rid of his dirty little misdeed. gosh he feels so pathetic…

-tells NO ONE about the endeavor, and leaves your panties where he found them. he’s going to have a lot to think about. (◞‸◟)

NAM-GYU/PLAYER 124

-one word: shameless.

-for some reason, nam-gyu just won’t fess up to the fact that he probably does genuinely have a crush on you. that’s absurd, he doesn’t do that kiddie shit! so, instead he’s making it his duty to find every possible way of throwing you off. because it’s funny. and what better chance does he have than right now?

-so what if this makes him a creep? hopefully you’ll take it as a sign to stay the hell away from him after this. (he says, anyway. a part of him actually hopes you’ll enjoy what he’s about to do and come back for more… he’s just,, strange like that.) he doesn’t think twice about taking his cock out from his boxers.

-the only one to actually USE your panties to jerk himself off. he tells himself he’s doing it out of spite, furiously pumping his veiny dick as he bites into the hem of his shirt, exposing his stomach that jumped with the contrasting nip of the cool air on his warm skin.

-“Stupid bitch. See how you fucking like it,” he’d growl, pausing a few times to frustratedly tuck strands of hair behind his ear whenever they’d get in his face. has no problem being loud, letting out groan after groan with every intention of getting caught. walk in on him, why don’t you? see how pissed off you make him feel. how fucking pent up he is for you.

-“Gonna cum all over your face,” nam-gyu’s threats would flow with no particular party on the receiving end. only the thought of you on your knees tending to him. doesn’t care that he probably looks like a lunatic while guiltlessly talking dirty, his balls drawing up at his own filthy-natured words.

-saliva would begin to seep into his shirt’s hem, his pace unrelenting as he fists his cock into your underwear, his other hand curling and uncurling whenever his pleasure spiked. he’ll swallow thickly as the knot in his lower stomach begins to form, squirming slightly in his spot in a visible attempt to chase his climax.

-he’ll align the inner crotch area perfectly along his length, his head tossing back as he finally lets go, your panties easily catching the globs of semen that shot out. “Fuck yeah.. Take it, take my cum.” he’d grunt, eyebrows furrowing while sinking his teeth deeper into his top.

-breathes heavily upon seeing the stick and foggy white liquid cause an evident dark patch on your panties. with a self-accomplished smirk, he’ll tuck himself back into his pants, releasing his shirt from his mouth as he pinches the waistband of your cum-soaked panties with the tip of his index and thumb, keeping it a distance away from him. he has just the thing for you.

-nam-gyu will actively seek you out, bringing along the end result of his.. work. once he finds you, he’ll toss it right at you, not caring if you were in catching-range or not.

-“Just a little something from me to you. Enjoy the gift, yeah?” he’d give you one of his sly smiles, eyes twinkling with the typical hint of mischief before walking off without even waiting for a reply or reaction.

-well, at least you got your panties back, right? <3

[waywardsalt]

was going through my blog trying to track down an old post i made talking abt my feelings on jolene and it was. much longer than i remembered it being. and haha yeah i still agree with it. i need to fucking. sort out my feelings on that character and that subplot

[somnoir]

Gotham's newest Crime Lord - part 3

Part 2 | Masterpost

"You know your way around the city." Dan commented, eyes narrowed once he realizes that Kitty and Johnny adapted a little too well to Gotham. Going to places even he didn't know existed, exploring and giving them intel he never realized was relevant. They knew history of Gotham in a way a local would. 

Johnny shrugged, turning back to Kitty who welcomed Ember with a bright smile. The two were squealing, talking about how they were going to help mess with Firefly after burning down a well-loved studio down town. 

For Dan, he wasn't going to intrude too much on his former rogues but... "You're from Gotham. Both of you." 

Johnny twitched, watching as Shadow moved to play with Elle in the air. 

"Yeah, we’re not too sure if our folks are still kickin’, but Kitty and me took off after they flipped over our thing. This place still gives me the heebie-jeebies, but hey, you guys are here. Gotham’s cool these days with all the furries and rogues runnin’ around." Johnny laughed, his cocky nature still burning bright, even when he looked almost melancholic at the memory of this place. 

No ghost was truly comfortable in their hometown, whether they died there or not. This was where they were born, where their lives began. 

"I see..." Dan mumbled, glancing to the space where Danny was usually in. His younger brother was off doing kingly duties again, slumped by work and the Observants pestering him about shit. 

There's a quiet knock on his door and Jeremy was poking his head into the room again. The ghosts didn't even care, continuing to be visible and floating around. Discomfort and a bit of fear was clear on the man's face but he turned to Dante with as much courage as he could muster. 

"Boss, we've got a lead on the missing kids." 

Ah, yes. The recent disappearances of children. He doesn't know where they go, what happens to them. All he knows is that children were picked of the streets and never to be seen again. 

"Someone's been takin' kids?" Kitty grimaced, not minding how Jeremy shuddered. "Dan, dear, darling! Send me and Johnny. We know this city better than Batman and his little birdies."

Again, Dan sighed. "Gimme a minute, Kitty. Not enough information." He grunts, turning to Jeremy to hand him the report. 

"Anything else?"

"Well... About the Bats..."

"They snoopin' around again?" 

"Trynna sniff out Phantom." Jeremy shrugs. "Red Hood's been pretty active. Heard he's been wonderin' about Phantom not visitin' the kids last week." 

"Thanks Jeremy. Tell Marigold I said hi." 

"Will do, boss!" 

Once Jeremy left, the other ghosts were swarming Dan like bees. Their eyes glittering with anticipation, excitement, and vengeance. It felt strange for them to pay attention, to follow him. Danny's always felt like the better leader, struggling and suffering in the role yet rising above it all. That was why he was the king now. 

"Alright, let's get to work. Most of these kids have one thing in common. Their skills. Flexible, acrobatic, and have some sort of combat training. Usually in self defence." Dan plugged in the USB into his laptop, projecting the screen on to the tv. "The latest disappearance is Layla Smithson. Fourteen. Gymnast and was sent to take taekwondo classes by her parents. Before that was Evan Chavez. Another gymnast but was also known to get into multiple fights."

"So whoever is takin' the kiddies, they go after the ones with pretty good skills." Ember hummed, turning to Kitty and then nudging her. "You've got anything to say about that?" 

"Well... Maybe." Johnny shrugs too. 

"Ooh! What about that nursery rhyme every Gothamites gets to listen. Y'know. About the court."

Dan frowned. "What court?" 

"The court of owls!" Kitty grinned, "Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadowy perch, behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send the Talon for your head." 

"Who the fuck uses that kind of shit for a nursery rhyme?" Dan scowled, but considered the possibility. "Any idea if they're real."

"Very." Johnny warned, "When Kitty and I died, we came back here a couple of times. Explored the place and tried to dig up secrets that would have killed us if we were livin'. One of 'em was the court. A secret society of a bunch off rich bastards."

"Johnny," Dan warned, knowing that something was still being kept from him. 

"There's another thing..." Johnny hesitated but Kitty took his hand and continued. 

Kitty grimaced, "The Court of Owls has a bunch of soldiers. They got this chemical they use on people, turnin’ ‘em into their own assassins. From what me and Johnny dug up a while back, these assassins were trained when they were kids. They call 'em Talons."

Dan wanted to yell, scream. Burn down the cursed with it's cursed bricks. Fuck. Fuck. Was the world always so shitty? 

"You're telling me... There's an entire secret society that uses chemicals to turn children into assassins?" 

Children.... Fucking children. They were weaponizing kids!

Ancients, he might just commit mass genocide again. 

"Alright. Alright. We leave the living people out of this. The court? Their talons? I want all of you prepared. I'm gonna contact Danny to drag Skulker and Wulf's asses here immediately."

Elle grinned, "GRAB AMORPHO TOO! We're gonna need his help if we want to dismantle the court."

The office is vacated quickly, with Elle dragging Ember and Kitty for girl time and Johnny runs off with shadow. Dan is left alone, frustrated at the new information before he does his best to summon his brother, the very annoyed ghost king that appears before him in full royal regalia. 

"A bit busy, Dan. Still tryin' to fight the laughing magician to help with getting rid of the Anti-Ecto Acts. Constantine is running around trying to destroy the GIW now." 

Dan snorted. He knew about John Constantine. The crazy motherfucker who's soul fragments were scattered around and Danny had to deal with the paperwork and mission to collect them all. 

"I know, yeah, sorry. I get that's important. But we've got a situation here."

"What would that be?"

"Secret society of rich fruitloops that are worse than Vlad. They're kidnapping children and making them into brainless assassins."

Immediately, the room grows colder than the far frozen. Danny's eyes are as green as they could ever be, but his pupils were an icy blue that would have made Frostbite shudder. 

"What do you need?"

"Skulker, Wulf, and Amorpho." 

"I'll send them on your way. They'll be here within 3 hours." Danny sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I'll finish up things on my end to help."

"Sure thing, twerp."

"Fuck you." Fondly. 

"Fuck you too." Affectionately.

"OH! Your revenant was looking for you." 

"THE SEXY RED HOOD WAS LOOKING FOR ME?!" 

It was an entire week of silence. Of Wraith not doing anything at all. Even the rogues felt apprehensive to act on anything after Wraith's new subordinates started popping up to pester them. The reports were the same. Distorted footage, meta-human abilities, and a ridiculous amount of chaos. 

Apparently, Two face has waged war on one of them, named Ember. Riddler was also ready to throw hands with Specter. And then Harley and Ivy were hunting down a couple names Kitty and Johnny 13. Why they were named that, none of them knew. But considering Wraith and Phantom's titles, the entire group was Ghost themed. The majority of Gotham have taken to calling them the Ghosts. 

But then...

"Bruce... Get a look at this." Barbara's voice shook, horrified as she stared at the screen. Majority of the family was already in the cave, preparing to patrol once more. But their eyes were drawn to the screen. They all froze, struggling to fathom what the fuck was it they were looking. 

"Holy shit." 

Everyone was frozen, staring at the clear, untampered screen. 

Bruce sucked in a deep breath, reading the bloody message written on the wall of... He couldn't recognize it properly. "Farewell to the Court of Owls that once watched from their shadowy perch. Their talons covered in the blood of children they once purge. Farewell to their judge, the parliament says goodbye. To Talons, to owls, the ghosts says hi." 

And right beside the message was the hanging body of what Bruce recognized was the Judge of the Court of Owls. 

The Court of was in ruins. 

"Holy shit. HOLY SHIT!" Tim screeched, almost stumbling as he stared at the morbid message. "The Wraith and his ghosts took out the fucking court."

There was a loud rev of an engine, momentarily dragging their attention to Jason who was hurriedly getting of his bike and taking of his helmet. "Fuck, you've already seen it."

"You saw it in real life?! Where the fuck is that? The location is distorted but the entire thing is being broadcasted to the entirety of Gotham." 

"There are two of 'em. That one's on the clocktower."

Barbara snapped her head towards him, "MY clocktower?!" 

"Sorry 'bour that Barbie. But it got the job done for them, all of Gotham know about the court now."

Bruce grimaced, "And the other location?" 

"Arkham... The Talon is the one being hanged up there. The message is shorter: Bye-Bye owls. Shouldn't have messed with the dead." Jason clicked his tongue, "That's either about the fact that the court has been messing with the dead or it's cause Wraith's group is called the Ghosts." 

Jason shook his head, knowing for the fact that he'd have to track down Phantom soon. His eyes turned towards Dick, who stared at the screen as if a burden was just freed from him. Jason thinks it has. 

They had found out about the Court a little while ago, then found out about Dick's situation with them. How the circus he grew up in was one of the facilities that groomed Talons. How Dick was supposed to be recruited as one when his parents died. 

"Dick?" Jason murmured, gently taking Dick's hand. The other man jolted, his domino mask hiding whatever emotions there was in his eyes. 

"Little Wing..." 

"C'mon. Let's go grab some of Alfred's cookies. The rest of the family can deal with this." Jason quickly hurried his older brother out the cave, urging him to change our of his suit. 

Dick, once again, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, struggled to understand that his nightmare that was the Court was finally dead. Most likely slaughtered by the hands of a new crime lord, a rogue that seemed desperate to keep children safe. He held the tea tightly, closing his eyes as Jason sat opposite to him. 

The court was dead. 

Talon was dead. 

"I'm gonna go look for Phantom in a bit." Jason hummed, trying to appear comforting to Dick. 

And the image of the Judge of the court's body hanging from the clocktower flashes in his head again. 

"Jason." Dick whispered, "Get me a meeting with Wraith."

"What?" Jason blinked, "Dickie, no. Wraith might seem like a pretty nice guy with how he's protecting the kids, but he's still..." He paused, "He's still like me." 

"I need to meet him, Jaybird. I need to confirm that the Court is gone for good. He's the only one who can do that for me." 

"Why would Phantom even let you meet him?"

Dick frowned, sucking in a deep breath before taking Jason's hands. 

"Tell him that Nightwing was supposed to be a Talon."

Part 4 | Masterpost

[arolesbianism]

Dancer 🤝 Helmet being low empathy despite literally having different flavors of mind reading

[im4rmy]

when he hurts you during sex by accident - OT7 (idol AU)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Mark　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• after growing up with only men, he's still trying to size down his strenght when he's around you, but when he's lost in the pleasure of pounding into you chasing his climax... he loses that last thread of control. and that's a little too much for you.

• you squeeze his shoulders to get his attention but he doesn't seem to notice. "mark- wait, slow down please"

• nothing. but when he thrusts again roughly, hurting you, you scream and squirm away from him, finally getting his attention.

• "what's wrong baby?" "you were hurting me- ugh" you groan clutching your lower belly.

• mark widens his eyes. "w-what? oh my god, i'm sorry! are you okay baby?"

• you take a deep breath and relax your legs, feeling the ache already fading. you give him a little smile and get closer to him again, but his face and body are completely shutted down.

• "i'm so sorry... it's- are you okay?" "yeah, it's nothing. don't worry, okay?"

• he keeps on apologizing again and again until you snort and decide that the night it's over

• he feels so guilty that he won't touch you again for almost 2 weeks

• "i just- i fear i will hurt you again" "that was an accident, baby. i trust you"

• let's say that the sex with him will be VERY gentle and careful for the next two months or so.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Renjun　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• he's not rough in bed but he's freaky: he likes to tie you up (and to be tied up but this is not the case).

• but tonight he seems to be a little too lost in the moment to notice that you arching your back that way is not from pleasure but pain: you're lying on your belly with your hands handcuffed behind you while a whiny renjun pounds into you from the back.

• and when you feel like your back is about to break in half, you decide that is the right time to use your safe word. "APPLE PIE!"

• renjun instantly stops his movements and takes a breath to regain awareness of his surroundings and when you try to relax your back squinting in pain, he comes out of you gently. "are you okay baby?"

• "no please- u-untie me"

• you don't need to say anything else: your hands are free in no time and you collapse on the bed with a whine, face buried in the pillow.

• "talk to me pretty, is it your back?" you nod against the pillow and you feel his warm hands on you, softly massaging you.

• you breathe a few times relaxing your whole body, then you turn around to lay on your back now. you meet his worried eyes and offer him a little smile "i'm okay now"

• "are you sure? we can stop-" "nono, it's okay, really"

• you lift a little to kiss him and he reclutantly melts into your warmth again. he's still a little hesitant but it doesn't last long: you two comunicate a lot and you have a safe word for a reason. it's not the first time one of you isn't comfortable in a certain sexual activity since you both love to experiment new things. you say the safe word, the other stops and then you can continue your love making without overthinking it.

• that's why now renjun is thrusting in you again, slowly and deeply, passionately but gently, kissing you and taking care of you in his embrace. you smile at him and anything else doesn't exist anymore.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jeno　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• you love sex with jeno. you absolutely LOVE it: he's hot af, he knows what he's doing, he's a pro at using his hands and mouth. he isn't even that rough but he's strong and sometimes he doesn't notice if he's gripping your sides or your wirsts with too much strenght. let's be honest, you don't notice either in the moment.

• in the morning, however, you feel the skin on your hips BURNING. and when you look in the mirror and see dark bruises here and there... you know that jeno can't see these or he'll never touch you again. (you can't let that happen omg)

• but when you can't seem to mask the winces every time you twist your body, he knows something is wrong. he ignores your protests and lift your hoodie, revealing your secret.

• "what the fuck happened??" he looks at you worried and when you can't even look at him nor answer- he realizes it's his fault.

• "oh my god baby- did i do that? i'm so sorry, why didn't you tell me i was hurting you?!" "because you weren't! i swear it didn't hurt till this morning"

• he looks at you with mortified puppy eyes and hugs you tight. "i'm so sorry baby. does it hurt a lot?"

• you giggle and enjoy his cuddles. "no it's okay, really. it'll fade quickly, don't overthink it okay?" "mhmh"

• you stayed cuddled up like that for a while, he even skipped his gym session with jaemin just to stay with you and do absolutely nothing but spoil you with endless cuddles.

• the next night he makes up to you eating you out like never before.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Haechan　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• sex with him is messy and loud and whiny. so it's understandable that he doesn't notice immediately when your pleasure moans turn into pain ones.

• when he angles himself wrong and thrust in you roughly, you choke out a cry and flinch, but he thrusts in you again making you scream.

• he finally looks at you sensing that something is wrong and he widens his eyes seeing your hurt expression. he's out of you in a second.

• "are you okay?" "fuck- ow"

• you hold your legs to your chest to ease the pain and take some deep breaths.

• "y/n you're scaring me, say something" "i'm okay, i'm okay" "can i take a look?"

• his soft and gentle voice and his warm hand caressing your knee are enough to make you relax. you nod and let him spread your legs.

• "you're not bleeding sweetie. what if i prepare a hot bath and we can cuddle until it gets cold and then i massage your whole body with my lotion and then i cuddle you until you fall asleep in my arms?"

• you giggle at him, locking your arms around his neck letting him lift you up and bring you to the bathroom. "why i have the feeling that you're going to enjoy this more than me?"

• "impossible! i'm using my good and expensive lotion for you!" "and rubbing it on all of my naked body is not worth the waste?" "it'll be SO worth it omg"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jaemin　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• jaemin is a HUGE... anal lover. you have to be honest: you don't enjoy it as much as him but he loves it so every now and then you give in, despite the initial discomfort you know you'll feel.

• but today you seem to not be able to overcome the stiffness, not when you're pressed against your door, completely naked, with your buff boyfriend thrusting in and out of you from the back holding your breasts like his life depends on it. that would be the hottest thing you two did in a while (and you two do a lot of steamy sex sessions so-) if you could at least relax just a little...

• "wait jaem- please stop" "w-what?" "i-it hurts- please"

• jaemin stops his movements and release the pressure on your body. "are you okay?"

• you collapse back against his body. "i'm sorry baby- i'm sorry i can't" "what's wrong princess?" "i don't like it- it hurts"

• he starts to caress your belly leaving sweet kisses on your shoulder. "i'm sorry... was i too rough?" "no it's just- i can't relax tonight"

• you can FEEL his smirk against your skin. "mhhh my girl wants to relax? i know a thing or two that will do the work"

• in less than thirty seconds your discomfort is well forgotten and replaced by the pure bliss of his head buried deep between your thighs. a win is a win.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Chenle　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• it cannot happen. during sex, chenle is entirely focused on you. he can't lose himself enough to not notice if he's hurting you.

• his every move is oriented towards YOUR pleasure so it's hard to believe he would hurt you even by accident.

• the worst it can happen is him doing something you don't really enjoy.

• "oh you don't like this? noted. and what if i do it like this instead- yeahhh that's my girl c'mon"

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jisung　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

• jisung is not rough or wild in bed, at all. but- he's big. you're the experienced and freaky one in bed so you can play and tease him all you want masking it as foreplay but honestly- you do all of that to make sure that you're wet enough to take him without accidents (and of course you enjoy the foreplay).

• but today jisung is tipsy from wine and he seems to feel like taking control. you don't mind it, he's hot af and you're really down bad for the clumsy and awkward boy.

• so when he eagerly undresses you and BOLDLY licks and kisses your breasts you're on cloud nine, but when he goes straight between your thighs and you feel him against your core- you flinch and widen your eyes.

• "wait ji- SHIT"

• he enters in you (or at least he tries to) but you're not lubrificated enough. you curse squirming away from him, who is looking at you confused as fuck.

• you get on your feet to ease the pain and shot him a glare. "are you insane? you can't do that straight away! ouch"

• you moan in discomfort and take a few steps around his room. you're not angry at him, of course, so you take a deep breath to calm your scared heart.

• "did i- did i really hurt you?"

• you look at him and your heart melts in your lungs: he's on his knees on the bed, very naked, cheeks flushed and eyes popping out. you sigh and go back to the bed, sitting beside him. "baby, you're too big to just slide in"

• "t-too big?" "yes baby" "so i hurt you every time we-" "no! make love to you is my favourite thing in the world. but i have to make sure that i'm ready to take you. you understand?"

• jisung keeps looking at you with puppy eyes. then his gaze goes down, directly between your bare legs. he wouldn't be able to do that without alcohol in his system. he faintly nods. "i understand. i should touch you first"

• you blink a few times and try to answer but you feel his fingers on your clit and your words die in your throat. you feel his unexperienced but effective movements and relax instantly.

• "is this working?" you laugh giving him a kiss. "yes, my good boy"

• (he came right in that moment)

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

masterlist

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

[leashybebes]

i was yapping at @sazzynatural about my hurdle headcanon and then my hand slipped and now here we are, i guess!

tweaked a little and posted on ao3 [here]. thanks, y'all!

"Hey, Evan?"

"Yeah?" Buck calls, from where he's checking through his cupboards, making a shopping list. Tommy doesn't respond immediately and he turns back from where he's surveying the spice rack to look at him. "What's up?"

Tommy has that fond look on his face that, as far as Buck is concerned, might as well just be what his face looks like. The way that Tommy looks at him lights him up inside. He doesn't think anyone has ever looked at him that way, the way that he catches Tommy looking, so soft and endeared, like just looking at Buck makes him happy. It's - 

"I love you."

Buck's heartbeat roars in his ears. 

"Y-you - um. What? No, wait, I mean. I heard you. Tommy, that's - "

"Evan." He still looks fond, and that should be impossible, because Buck is screwing up, he has ring-side seats to this, is actively watching himself screw up, and Tommy's still looking at him like - like that. "Stop spiraling. You don't need to say it back, I just wanted you to - "

"No, no, it's not - uh - I, uh. I said I'd meet Maddie for coffee during her shift and if I don't leave now I'm gonna be late, so I, um. C-can we talk about this later? O-over dinner, maybe?"

Tommy's shoulders slump a little at that. "Uh. Sure. If you like."

"Uh-huh, yeah, that'd be great, I'll be back, don't uh - don't go anywhere, I won't be long, I just really - really need to get that coffee with Maddie, I can't be late but uh - that's - that's great, Tommy."

He sees Tommy's eyebrows go up, sees him mouth great, and then he's out the door.

Oh, shit.

***

The drive to dispatch goes in a blur, and he must look pretty freaked out because as soon as Maddie sees him, she quickly finishes her call and drags him into the breakroom.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I - I thought we could get coffee," Buck says lamely, and she gives him the big sister eyebrows. "Really," Buck says a bit frantically. "Can - can we have coffee?"

Maddie rolls her eyes, but she pours them both a coffee and hands him his, putting the table between them and leaning against it.

"I have fifteen minutes. Talk."

"Tommy said he loves me," Buck blurts.

"Buck, wow. That's amazing." Maddie's eyes widen at him over her coffee cup. "Wait. Not amazing?"

"I didn't - uh. I didn't say it back?" Buck says, and feels his heart sink. 

"Wait, you didn't?" Maddie tilts her head, looks honestly baffled. Which - fair. Buck is a little obsessed. "Do you - not?"

Of course I do, Buck thinks. How could I not?

"I - I'm being intentional," Buck says, and it sounds hollow already. "I don't wanna rush it and I had like - a timeline."

"Did - did you tell him about the timeline?"

"N-not in so many words," Buck admits.

"Evan! Please tell me you didn't just run out on the poor guy," Maddie pleads, over the sound of the breakroom door opening again. Buck doesn't even care about a potential audience, he's so suddenly miserable at the way he left Tommy at the loft.

"I - I didn't run," he says although - it was probably a close thing. "I…I told him I had to get coffee with you and we'd talk about it later," he admits, his voice getting smaller with every word.

Maddie's face does the thing - the scrunched up pout like she's holding back on telling him that he's a damn moron. Buck scrubs his hands over his face.

"Is this Buck's hot pilot?" Josh asks from where he's pouring coffee.

Buck hears Maddie's mm-hm. 

"He said he loves me," he says, still hiding behind his hands.

"Con…gratulations?" Josh says dubiously. "Or, how awful for you? I'm really not clear on the desired response here."

"He thinks it's too soon," Maddie says. "He had a timeline. Which he did not share."

"We were taking it slow!" 

"I hate to break it to you, but the way that man looks at you is not slow," Josh says.

"He's not wrong," Maddie says, and Buck hangs his head. Because they're right. They're both right.

"Look, you know me. I stumble into things, I end up too serious too fast and it blows up in my face. I - I really didn't want it to blow up in my face. And then he just goes and - and looks at me like that, and says that, and I don't - guys, I think I really screwed up."

Maddie gives him a sympathetic look. 

Josh gives him a deeply, deeply unsympathetic one. "Oh, I have totally dated a Tommy."

"I'm sorry, what?" Buck glares at Josh who looks supremely unimpressed.

"Calm down, ankles," he tuts, and Buck is absolutely going to kill Eddie. Or Chim. He's going to kill someone. How does everyone know about that? "I said I dated a Tommy, your man's virtue is safe."

"What does that mean, you dated a Tommy?"

"Look, not everyone knows when they're five like me, and not everyone goes from adorably clueless to out and proud as fast as you. Sometimes, and I know this might be a little revolutionary for you, Buck, but sometimes the queer experience? Fucking miserable for a really long time. So sometimes you just want to grab happiness where you can find it, as soon as you find it."

Buck thinks about the things he's learned about Tommy over the months they've been seeing each other, each one a little treasure to be hoarded, a part of the puzzle that makes up the man that he already can't imagine life without - the asshole father, the dead mom, the army, the closet, the loneliness - and he wants to slap himself. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, his heart sinking further at the message Tommy's sent.

Do you want me to cancel the reservation?

Buck turns his phone to show Maddie and Josh the message.

"What reservation?" Maddie asks

"Dinner," Buck says miserably. "Date night."

"Okay," Josh says. "Some of us are supposed to be working and don't have time for your little baby bi crisis. Evan Buckley, are you actually going to fumble that man? Before you answer, be aware that two thirds of the population of WeHo will get a hard-on the moment he's back on the market even if they won't know why."

"He's not going back on the market," Buck snaps. "I just - I just need to talk to him."

"There we go," Josh says, rolling his eyes and disappearing with his mug of coffee, and an idiot called back over his shoulder.

Maddie's a little kinder, hugging him quickly. "Tell him how you feel, Buck. Talk it out."

***

By the time Buck gets back to the loft, he has another message from Tommy.

Hey, I headed back to my place. Let me know if you want to talk, or if you want dinner. I'm sorry if that was too much. It doesn't have to change anything.

"Goddamnit," Buck grumbles, throwing the Jeep back into gear. The drive to Tommy's has never felt so long, and he sits outside for long enough that the neighbor across the street is just openly staring through the blinds. It's enough to propel him out of the car and up to the door.

It takes Tommy a minute to answer when Buck knocks and he looks - surprised to see him, honestly. Buck feels a horrible twist of guilt.

"Can I come in?"

"Evan. Of course. You want a coffee or something?"

"No," Buck says, trailing Tommy into the kitchen. "I - I did have one with Maddie, I'm kinda…vibrating out of my skin enough as it is."

"I'm sorry. That's not what I was aiming for."

"Y-you don't need to be - Tommy, I - "

"Hey, look, it's fine," Tommy says, and it looks like he really believes it. Like it really is completely fine that he told Buck he loves him and Buck's response was to buffer internally for a minute and then run out of his own damn apartment like his ass was on fire. Tommy taps his knuckles on the table between them in what Buck recognises as a nervous gesture. "I know that I'm not - I'm not the forever guy, and that's okay. I didn't say it to make you say it back. I said it because it's true and I wanted you to know."

"What are you talking about?"

"That I - " Tommy honestly looks a little puzzled. "What I said, this morning. It wasn't - there weren't any strings attached."

"You're not the forever guy? What the hell does that mean?"

"Just that - that I know I'm not exactly a…long-term prospect, and that's okay."

Okay? It's so far from okay. It's the worst thing Buck has ever heard.

"How are you not a long-term prospect? That's - that's the dumbest thing I ever heard, take that back."

"Evan. I used the L word and you couldn't get out of there fast enough. It's okay. You don't have to try to make me feel better. It's fine."

"It's not fine," Buck snaps, rounding the table to get closer to Tommy, catching hold of his wrist. "I'm not - look, I had a timeline, which, Maddie pointed out I didn't actually tell you about that, so that's my bad. But it was a timeline for me, to stop me going too fast and falling too hard and - and going full Buck. I didn't expect that you would - "

"Stomp all over this mysterious timeline?" Tommy asks, his eyebrows going up.

"And I'm now realizing how stupid that was. Did - did you mean it?"

"Evan. Of course I meant it." He glances down at where Buck is still squeezing his wrist, not quite holding his hand "I - honestly, I didn't think it would come as a surprise, I'm not exactly - "

"I love you."

Tommy blinks. "Evan - "

"Please believe me. Tommy. God, I screwed this up so bad, but - I do. I do love you. You are the forever guy. You're my forever guy. I promise. I just - I was just scared. But about me, not about you. Never about you. Tommy, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I - "

"Evan. Say it again."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Buck lets himself sway forward, lets his forehead meet Tommy's shoulder. "Not the forever guy. You're a goddamn idiot is what you are."

"I'm your idiot," Tommy promises, and Buck laughs shakily.

They love each other. They love each other.

[daisymbin]

more blackmail material? - choi seungcheol

read pt1 first: look at me!

warnings: none i think?

pairings: choi seungcheol x reader (use of she)

genre: friends to lovers~

wc: 2.2k

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist! // cheol's m.list

you wake up to the familiar weight of seungcheol’s hand clutching yours tightly; that being the only part of your body that feels comfy. your back hurts & your legs are numb. you had fallen asleep while sitting on the floor by the bed, holding his hand. you look over to him, his brows furrow slightly as he mumbles something intangible as you tried to escape his grasp, and your heart squeezes at the sight. for a moment, you wonder what he’s dreaming about, his expression so peaceful yet intense.

his hair tousled and his expression adorable. a small smile tugs at your lips as you take in the sight of him, feeling an overwhelming sense of affection.

you gently try to pry his hand on yours, but that was proven difficult when seungcheol unconsciously tightens his hold. after a good 10 minutes of trying, you managed to get him to let go, careful not to wake him, and make your way to the kitchen. the apartment is still, save for the soft sounds of the world outside waking up. as you prepare a light breakfast, your mind races with thoughts of what to say when seungcheol wakes up. would he remember anything? would he regret his words?

your heart races at the thought. just as you’re pouring a glass of apple juice, the soft sound of shuffling interrupts your thoughts. you turn to see seungcheol standing in the doorway, bleary-eyed and slightly disheveled, his hair in all sorts of direction but with a small smile on his face that sends a flutter through your chest.

“morning,” he mumbles, his voice still thick with sleep.

“morning,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, despite the weight of what’s unsaid hanging in the air.

he rubs his eyes, stepping further into the kitchen. “what time is it?”

“almost 11,” you tell him, watching as he yawns and stretches, the sight somehow both adorable and mesmerizing.

“11?” he echoes, clearly surprised. “how did I sleep so long?”

you chuckle softly, knowing the answer. “you were pretty tired from all that dancing and… other activities last night.”

the blush creeping across his cheeks is immediate, and he glances down at the floor, avoiding your gaze. “did I… say anything embarrassing?”

you hesitate, a wave of uncertainty & disappointment washing over you. you see the sincerity in his eyes, and despite the urge to tell him the truth, you weren't sure if its something he had meant to let out, or if he even meant it. maybe he was just…drunk? or maybe he'll come to remember it in a few hours? “no, not really,” you reply, a soft smile gracing your lips.

he seems to relax at your words, though a shadow of confusion still lingers in his expression. “thank god. I was worried I made a fool of myself or said something I shouldn't have.”

just then, his phone buzzes loudly on the table, interrupting the moment. he glances at it, his brow furrowing. “it’s jihoon. he wants me to come help with something.”

“now?” you ask, feeling a twinge of disappointment at the thought of losing this moment.

“yeah, I should probably go,” he says, though he seems reluctant to leave. “but I’ll text you later, okay?”

“sure,” you reply, trying to hide your disappointment. “just…be safe. drink lots of water, you need it.”

“i will.” he promises, a soft smile on his lips before he grabs his things and heads out the door.

as soon as he’s gone, you let out a sigh, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. what now? you wonder, glancing at your phone and deciding to take a break from it all. you text seungkwan to see if he wants to grab brunch.

when you meet seungkwan at your favorite café, he immediately senses something is off. “so, what happened after you sent seungcheol home?” he asks, leaning in, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “did anything…happen last night? did you guys talk it out this morning?”

you shake your head, stirring your latte absently with a sigh. “he doesn’t remember anything, he asked if he said anything stupid last night & I just told him no.”

“he doesn’t remember?” seungkwan looks flabbergasted. “are you serious?”

“sadly, yeah.” you reply, feeling a bit defeated. “I thought he would, but I guess not.”

“that’s not good,” seungkwan muttered softly, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “shall we have have some cake? the red velvet from here is really good, i’ll go order one.”

before you can even answer him, seungkwan already got up, he subtly pulls out his phone and steps away. “just a sec, I’ll be right back,” he says, heading towards the counter of the café.

“since when did you like red velvet?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, but he waves you off with a laugh. “oh, you know.. just the one they have here is good so….” he replies. you can sense he’s hiding something but you dont ask

—

jeonghan wastes no time. after receiving a few messages from an exasperated seungkwan, he heads straight to jihoon's place, excitement & mischief pulsing through him. he arrives, knocking briskly on the door until jihoon opens it, looking surprised to see him.

“jeonghan? what’s up?” jihoon asks, stepping aside to let him in.

“where’s seungcheol?” jeonghan demands, scanning the room until he spots him lounging on the couch, looking rather confused.

“he’s right here. what’s going on?” jihoon asks, glancing back and forth between the two of them.

jeonghan strides over to seungcheol, a teasing grin on his face. “shouldn’t you be taking your girlfriend, no, future mrs choi on a date right now? why are you here with jihoon?”

seungcheol blinks, utterly bewildered. “what are you talking about, jeonghan? I don’t-”

“you don’t what?” jeonghan cuts him off, pulling out his phone. “you don’t remember what you did last night? what you said?”

seungcheol’s expression shifts to confusion, and he rubs the back of his neck, trying to recall the events of the night. “what do you mean? did I do or say something embarrassing?”

with a smirk, jeonghan taps on the video he recorded the night before. he hadn't planned on pulling out his stored blackmail material so soon but thank god he recorded it.

as he hits play, seungcheol’s eyes widen, watching himself stand on the table whining about all the other boys you paid attention to instead of him, followed quickly by a tipsy grin plastered on his face as he confesses his undying love for you.

“what..what is this?” he exclaims, staring at the screen, the realization dawning on him.

“you confessing, you idiot,” jeonghan says, barely holding back laughter. “you were all mushy and everything!”

jihoon, who had been completely unaware of the events from the night before having stayed home, watches the video together, mouth agape. “wait, he really did that?”

“yoon jeonghan did you use A.I to fabricate this or something? there's no way I did that. I wouldn't….” seungcheol tries to push it onto jeonghan, trying to deny reality.

“really? you wouldn't? you think the chances of me using A.I is higher than you drunkardly confessing whilst standing on a table in a club?” jeonghan asked as he tried to hold back his laugher.

jihoon steps closer as he says, “honestly the A.I sounds more believable, you pull stupid pranks all the time, i wouldnt be surprised, but then again….if it's really A.I and it isn't real then thats kinda… nah. yoon jeonghan wouldnt joke about something like this. yup, looks real to me.” jihoon finishes as he pats seungcheol on his back.

jeonghan, seeing as seungcheol still doesn't believe him, pulls out his messaging app, opening his chat with seungkwan, “it's not A.I you idiots, who do you think i am? i love a good prank but this A.I shit is too much work, i dont have enough energy for that. here.” jeonghan then slides his phone over to seungcheol, messages from seungkwan earlier in its full glory.

roommate boo 🍊:

[12:17 PM] I can't believe that idiot can't remember what he did last night!!! hyung, do something!!!

[12:19 PM] I thought he lost his mind when he stood on that table crying over her last night BUT NO, NOW he's lost his mind! i thought some sense finally went into that head of his, how can he forget???

[12:22 PM] hyung!! do something! this isn't right and it's not fair to her! she looks so sad!!!!! show him that video you recorded last night!!!! 😡

“yup,” jeonghan says, enjoying seungcheol's mortification. “and now you can’t just let it slide. you need to talk to her and make this right. tell me, was she still in your apartment this morning?” he asked as he folded his arms. at a small nod of seungcheol’s head, jeonghan continued “that silly girl. I texted her to come down after putting you to bed, i even offered to send her home but she was worried about you and said she'd stay. how could you forget?”

seungcheol feels a rush of embarrassment & guilt flood through him as he stares at the screen which now shows jeonghan's text from you. “I can’t believe I did that,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. “and I can't believe I forgot…did she..does she-”

“does she like you?” jeonghan finishes for him, “you're such an idiot. for someone who claims to be looking at the love of their life all the time, you sure are blind for not seeing how she looks at you just as much.” jeonghan says with a satisfied smile on his face. “you owe her a real date after that confession.”

“and an apology.” jihoon added.

“i thought she’d tell me if i’d done something like that, but she didn’t. maybe she’s just… sparing me from rejection.”

jeonghan scoffed. “please, she looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky last night. she’s probably overthinking, just like you are.”

seungcheol lets out a sigh he didnt know he was holding, his resolve building as he processes everything. “I need to find her.” jihoon could only smirking at his friend’s flustered state.

—

after brainstorming with jeonghan and jihoon, seungcheol decided on a plan. he’d cook your favorite, miyeok guk (yall remember cooks coups? lmao) it wasn’t just for birthdays, after all, and he knew you'd appreciate the thought. jeonghan offered to help, though he teased relentlessly about how much was riding on this meal.

it was almost doomed when seungcheol managed to burn the soup, the kitchen filling with a slightly charred smell as he looked on in horror. jeonghan swooped in, shaking his head with an exasperated grin. “good thing i’m here,” he muttered, salvaging the meal with a few choice spices and a lot of patience.

once the miyeok guk was safely simmering, seungcheol added a few finishing touches around his apartment: candles with her favorite scent, a small bouquet of her favorite flowers, and warm lighting that made the whole room feel like a cozy haven.

finally, he texted you, saying he needed help with something. you arrived, clueless, expecting a favor and absolutely not prepared for the sight of him standing there, nerves showing slightly as he shifted from foot to foot.

before you could ask, he cleared his throat. “so… about last night…”

you froze, realizing he might remember. “last night?”

he gave a small, uncertain smile, looking at you with a soft intensity. “i know you didn’t say anything, but… jeonghan showed me the video. i just… i thought maybe you didn’t tell me because… maybe you don’t feel the same, and you were trying to save me from that.”

you stared at him, heart racing. “no, i… i thought you might regret it,” you admitted softly, glancing down. “i didn’t want to bring it up if… if it was something you didn’t mean.”

seungcheol stepped closer, reaching out to gently lift your chin so you’d meet his gaze. “i meant every word,” he murmured. “and this time, i want to say it sober; knowing exactly what i’m saying. i like you… so much. and if you’ll let me, i’d like to take you on a real date.”

a smile spread across your face as you let his words sink in. “then… i’d like that, too,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper.

the uncertainty melted from his expression, replaced by a soft warmth. reaching out, he took your hand in his, holding it as if it were something precious. he chuckled softly, still a little shy. “so, um… how about some miyeok guk? i might’ve had a bit of help from jeonghan, but it’s your favorite.” he refused to let you know about how he had actually burnt it & jeonghan had salvaged it. but little did he know, jeonghan had been recording his friend again when he was panicking & making a mess of the kitchen while whining, more blackmail material perhaps?

“i’d love that,” you replied, heart swelling at the gesture.

as you both sat down, laughing together over the slightly imperfect soup, you felt a contentment settle in, the kind that only came from being exactly where you were meant to be, with exactly the person you were meant to be with.

[shocymer]

Want me to teach you?

"Starting off as journalism clubs buddies, you never know how your relationship will take turns after he offered to give you a lesson."

Pairing : Yunho x f!reader

Word counts : 2.3k

Contents & warnings : smut mdni! , college AU, gamer yunho, oral (receiving), size kink, big dick! yunho, slightly pussy edging, overstimulation, semi public sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

“There’s something between you and her. I mean like you’re in relationship or..?” Wooyoung asked him carefully.

Yunho’s eyes goes widen. He never thought of dating you in the first place. After breaking up with his longtime ex lover, he completely avoided the topic of romance. He’d been dating his ex since high school. But at the certain time they’re in college, she became a campus crush and immediately dumped him.

He let out a soft chuckle in response, “How could that be?”

“Isn’t it obvious? The atmosphere.. ehhm kinda heavy around you two.” Seonghwa suddenly chimed in while his finger moved in circle towards Yunho.

He raised his eyebrow, a thin smile form his lips after ridiculed by them.

“Nah we’re not. We’re just friends, that’s all.”

To be honest, he wasn't that surprise when they asked about it. It all started from two months before. You accidentally took a glance on Yunho’s phone. He’s immersed in Detroit: Become Human walkthrough video while waiting for other faculty journalism club’s member to come.

Then you happened to be walking behind him before taking a seat. “Oh you’re into that game too?”

“I want to give it a try.” He turn at you for a moment before his eyes glued back to the screen. “But I still figure it out whether this one worth it or not.”

You crossed your arms then slightly lean towards him in attempt to get a better view of the video. “Hmm.. It’s a shame if you know most of the plot through this. Like I want you to experience the true ending by your own choices.”

“Wait, you ever played this?” Surprised that you’re into gaming stuff.

“I did, but on PC. I don’t know if there’s any differences if you play it on your console.” You lean away from him.

Now, he’s more interested in you and leaving the video played alone in the background. Distracted by your little fingers fidgeting on the back of your phone unconsciously, as both of you deep in talk. He’s wondering why is it so small and weirdly cute. Then he glanced back to you.

“So you’re not used to play with the controller right?”

You nod at him, “yeah, last time I try it when I was in 7th grade or something. The grip was uncomfortable. Right after that, I decided PC is much more easier.” You paused for a second, “but sometimes I would love to try it again.”

He chuckled seems to know the reasons why. Proceed to clear his throat before he answered you back, “Want me to teach you?”

Deep sighed left from your mouth, “I’m pretty sure you’ll be mad at me the second we’re in.”

“No no, definitely not. I got patience as deep as the ocean. You sure know that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Right, definitely a saint in your past life.”

He laughed at your remark and how annoyed you’re right now. You smacked his arm, telling him to stop. Not too long, both of you getting ready for the club’s meeting as everyone already gathered in.

You thought he’d be joking. He never brought that idea again after the last conversation with you. He occasionally texted you only about the club’s activity or college stuff. Until a week after, he slide a brand new box of controller towards you.

“Better started now or never.” He slightly tilted his head, pointing to where the box landed.

“Yunho, you don’t need to buy me this. I- like just tell me when you’re-”

“Shhh.. save that nagging for later.” His delicate hand started to unbox it with care. Then he handed it to you.

It’s mostly dominated with white and soft blue colors on the side. Plus the kitty paw shaped the thumb grip, make it seems like a customized controller. You reach it in fascination. That’s super cute. Both of you think the same way, but completely on different matters.

Yunho kept looking at your fingers which is nicely wrapped the controller. His eyes following the direction of your little thumbs that moving uncoordinatedly, mimicking the way you’re gonna use it in game. Then, his gaze turn to your lips, looking at how cute and plump it is.

He shook his head, after that he explained to you about it’s feature, how to turn it on and how to charge it. You listen to him just like in one of your lectures. Remembering everything that he told you while nodding at the same time.

“Thanks Yunho, that’s so cute.” You looked at him in guilty. “I bet this was expensive right?”

“Well, actually not that much. I just want you to use it more if it looks like that.” He flicked your forehead. “This is my own wish. Don’t ever feel bad about it, okay?”

After that day, you spent almost every weekend playing co-op game with him. He patiently guided you from the voice chat. Dealing with how forgetful you are and a lot of complaints about your sore fingers. With that antics of yours, he only let out small chuckle or teasing you even more.

On the weekday, sometimes you met him in the club’s room. Mostly during the meeting or when you do the project. The moment you asked him to check your works, he’ll lean over from your behind and randomly put his hand on top of yours while the other hand is scrolling the mouse. There’s also a moment he covered the shelf corner with his hand when your head nearly bump it or he’ll immediately fetched the things you needed where it’s difficult for you to reach.

You never realize that, but not with your other two friends. Seonghwa and Wooyoung, they keep exchange glances across the room whenever Yunho and you act like a new pair of lovers. They’re a hundred percent sure sensing something more than platonic relationship, when the actual truth is not. There’s nothing between you two, yet.

⁠✧

It's 3 days before the exam period. The faculty journalism club already in chaos for past few weeks. They’re divided into two teams. First team is responsible with the faculty website news update, and here you are in the second team handling the semester end magazine. Your leader pushed the deadline earlier hoping the only left to do is printed it out at the end of exam day.

Your tired ass have been proofreading for solid three hours non-stop. Flipping through the revision sheet and going back to the laptop. Luckily you don’t have any class today. All of you agreed to finished it today. But alas, there’s only four of you left, and making it worse the other two need to leave too.

“Shit, I forgot to consult my thesis. I’ll be back at evening!” Seonghwa barging out in hurry. No wonder he’s literally your senior a year above you.

Not too long, Wooyoung following around as he got notification with a sudden class at noon. He’s cursing along the way. Of course all of you haunted with the leader’s wrath, considering how strict he is. You still remembered the looks on his face when the last project failed.

There’s only Yunho and you left alone. Silence along the typing sounds are the only sound that filled the room. At this exact time, most of the clubs room are empty. Either everyone still in the class or diving in the library preparing for the exam.

The work flow with him lasted for more than an hour. He’s occasionally sipping his iced coffee while working on it. He took the editing part, after that passed it on to you. But this time, his hand slipped, nudging the cup of his coffee. He could save it, but not with your pile of revision papers. It scattered all over the floor.

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry.” He immediately crouched down as you do the same to collect the papers.

While collecting it in a rush, your fingertips brushing the back of his hand. Your face only a few inches from his side, making him shiver from the feeling of your warm breath against his skin. Then he turn to face you, staring deep into your eyes. Your heartbeat increase rapidly as he turning his hand to hold yours. His gaze shifted from your eyes to your small plumped lips.

When the tip of your noses touched, you couldn’t stand it anymore. You crushed his lips, kissing him hungrily. He pulled you in, till his back hit against the wall only to bring you on top of his lap while the kiss still not broken. He peeled off his denim jacket as the temperature keep raising between you two.

Gasping for some air, you pull out from the kiss. His index finger caress your cheek trailing down to you lips. You open your mouth to let it in wrestling around with your tongue. He let out small groaned at the sight of it. “I always curious how it taste like.” He lean in to you, whispering into your ears, “and that’s incredibly sweet.”

He picked you without a warning, gives you a quick kiss before plopping you down to the couch, then closed the curtains in swift motion.

Now he’s back to you, nibbling the nape of your neck, sucking on it, sometimes sunk his teeth beneath your skin. You’re squirming under him, gripping onto his hair as the sensation wash over you. He looked up to you, searching for your permission to go lower.

You nodded at him. He’s devouring your lips again while his hand pushed up your tight knee-length skirt, revealing wet trace over your panties. His fingers caress your clothed clit, moved in circular motion. You moaned between the kisses, you can feel he’s smirking on top of your lips.

He moved the panties to the side, then dip his finger into your folds. He chuckled, “you’re already this wet hmm?” Then he’s slipping in another finger, makes you gasped at how full it is inside. At first, his fingers moved back and forth slowly, but over time it’s moving faster making squelched noises due to how wet your pussy is.

He's amused by looking at the face you make right now, moaning out his name when you almost at the edge. He’s stopped in the middle of it, pulled out his fingers. “It’s not enough if it just like that.” He's immediately going down to yank out your panties, then sticking his third fingers into you, moving abruptly while his tongue flicking your clit, sucking on it hungrily. You grip onto his hair tighter, only strangle moan left out from your mouth before his another hand tried to cover it. You buckled your hip as you reaching out the orgasm, biting the palm of his hand trying to stifle your moan. He flicked his tongue few times makes your body spasm due to overstimulation. When you chasing down from it, he licked clean your pussy, then going back to kiss you, giving the taste of yours.

He take a step back, unbuttoning his jeans then pulled down the zipper, letting his cock sprung out from his brief. You took a peek on it with your half lidded eyes, still recovering from the last orgasm. It looks swollen, the unbelievable girth with it’s veins pop visibly, and the tip is glistening with the pre cum. He's stroking it for few times before lining it on your entrance. The tip is slowly in, you can feel the pain as it bigger than your thought.

He's leaning down to you, holding your hands, then trailing kisses on your neck hoping you to relaxes. “I’m sorry is it hurting that much?” He’s stroking your hair while looking into your eyes. “Not.. that much.” You answered him in teary eyes. He kisses your forehead then to your eyes. “It’s a still little bit more baby, can you take it?” You nodding at him. When it’s all in, he let it still for a moment so you get used to it. Then he start moving slowly while his hand unbuttoned your shirt, cupping your breast and slightly fondle it.

He thrusting it faster after he hear you moan in pleasure. His hand grip your waist, while the other hand busy teasing your clit. Your pussy tightened at every deep thrust, making him groaned at the feels. His hips moved erratically after pressing his hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge whenever his cock in you completely. Your nails digging in his clothed back as you feel the knot in your stomach. You squirted over him, making a mess on his shirt. He didn’t stop while your walls clenching on his cock, “you felt so good baby.” After few thrusts he filled your cunt, milking his balls empty. He pulled it out, then plopping himself beside you. Both of you breathing heavily while staring at each other. After realizing it, both of you laughing at how messy you’re right now.

⁠✧

“I’m baaack!” Wooyoung slammed the door open, his eyes goes widen at the sight of you two.

“Aren’t you guys tired? You didn’t move an inches since I left.” He saw you typing furiously on your laptop, meanwhile Yunho sorting out the papers beside you.

Yunho turned to him, “actually I need some snacks.” He gets up from his chair, then put his arms around Wooyoung’s shoulder.

Before they go, Wooyoung looked at you. “You don’t need anything? Or maybe you need some fresh air, you can go with Yunho instead. I’ll continue the rest.”

“I’m fine.” You paused for a second, “uhm.. well, maybe I want a smoothie.”

“Okay got it!” he gives an okay sign to you, then dragged Yunho along out of the club room. Yunho stopped his step, “wait I think I left something.” He ran back to the clubs room.

When he got there, he whispered something to you, “After this, do you still want me to teach you? My lesson isn’t done yet.” You flinched at his sudden peck on your lips. He smiled cheekily while leaving you speechless alone, squirming on your seat as you feel his juice spilled down over your thigh.

[shawtuzi]

finking of morning sex w plug!eren

mdni pls and thank you///cw include: black fem!reader, drug usage (weed), a lot of sexual tension, lazy morning sex that eventually turns kinda rough, some fluff

9:03 AM

the early morning sun nearly blinded you as eren opened the blacked out curtains in your shared bedroom. “ren what the fuck,” you whined burying your face in the plush pillow you were just a few seconds ago sleeping so peacefully on. eren chuckled, bringing a blunt he had freshly pearled to his lips that were still a bit swollen from last nights activities. you’d recently gotten into nibbling and biting on his lips during your intense kisses and although he found it extremely hot he was definitely paying the price for it.

“suns up mama, time to get up….unless you want me to finish this without you,” he smirked blowing a fat cloud of smoke in your direction. you lifted your head from the pillow, a deep scowl on your face. you begrudgingly sat up making eren grin, “yeah that’s what i thought, go freshen up real quick i’ll roll another one while you’re gone.” you let out a dramatic sigh before making your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face.

when you walked back into the room eren was laid up on the bed, little o shaped clouds of smoke flying into the air. “turn on some music,” he grumbled and you quirked a brow waiting for him to finish his sentence with a ‘please.’ when he saw you weren’t moving the realization hit him pretty damn quick, “sorry i meant turn on some music please.” you smiled and happily complied, turning on the speaker. you put on ‘feels like summer’ by childish gambino before flopping onto the bed. “careful baby careful—almost made me ash on my chest,” he chuckled giving your ass a light smack.

“yeah yeah whatever gimme some,” you plucked the blunt from his hands and took a long hit. you maneuvered your body onto his lap, his morning wood definitely not going unnoticed. “what’s on the agenda for today babydoll,” he asked tracing his name over and over on your thigh with his index finger. you handed the blunt back over to him before speaking, “mika invited us to brunch at one, then i have my nail appointment at four, we’ll have to do some grocery shopping tonight, and then i was thinking for dinner i could make that cajun chicken alfredo you like so much.” eren was trying to listen he was really was!! but it was so damn hard when your clothed pussy was directly against his dick that was practically straining against his boxers.

“you listening to me ren?” you giggled snapping your fingers in front of his face. a lazy grin broke out on his face and he nodded, “mhm of course i’m listenin’.” the room was slowly but surely becoming boxed and the more it did the more you and eren we’re feeling the effects of the drug. “had a dream about you last night,” you hummed, leaning back, resting your hands on his muscly thighs. eren smirked, his eyes drifting to your cunt that was practically swallowing your panties. he grabbed the second blunt he had rolled and lit it, “yeah? tell me all about it mama.”

“you were eating me out…and you had those fuckin’ grills in. you were doing such a good job i think i might’ve came in my sleep from it,” you sighed dreamily thinking of how damn fine eren always looked when he had his grills in. you felt eren’s dick twitch but didn’t dare say anything, deciding to tease him a little and see how long he’d last. he handed the blunt to you, a low groan rumbling in his chest. “those grills always make you so weak in the knees don’t they?” he said giving you a lazy smirk. his rough hands trailed from your thick thighs, up your tummy, and finally to your breasts where he gave them a soft squeeze. his thumbs brushed over your nipples and you shivered, nearly dropping the blunt in the process.

you head felt like someone had yanked out your brain and replaced it with hot air bc by god all you could think about right now was eren eren eren. “you dream about me a lot?” he asked, mindlessly toying with your breasts. oh he didn’t even know the half of it. you ran your tongue over your bottom lip, nodding at his question. you were supposed to be doing the teasing, but as always eren had the upper hand and was able to turn you into mush with just a few lewd touches. he looked like a dream right now—his jade eyes were red and hooded, his hair that was usually up was down and cascaded beautifully over his broad shoulders, and he had this damn smirk on his face that was getting your panties wetter by the minute.

‘rendezvous’ by partynextdoor (a song that just so happened to be on your sex playlist) began playing, increasing the sexual tension tenfold. eren’s nonchalant façade began to crumble once of felt your wetness begin to seep into the material of his boxers. “you know if you wanna fuck all you have to do is ask, can practically feel your heartbeat on my dick,” his words made your breath hitch making him smirk for the umpteenth time. “no you…no you can’t! don’t be weird,” you pouted slapping his chest. you hadn’t even realized how turned on you actually were until you felt how uncomfortably slick your pussy had gotten.

eren slowly pulled your panties to the side and this mf actually whistled when he finally laid eyes on your soaked center. “such a pretty pussy,” he mumbled to himself running a finger through your slit. eren took one final hit of the blunt before setting it in the ashtray on the bedside table. without warning he plunged two fingers in your cunt making you gasp but as soon as they were in he pulled them right back out. he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked your essence off of them until they were clean. “i think i’m gonna let you do the work this morning,” he smiled, snapping your panties back into place. you were taken aback at his words a soft ‘huh?’ leaving your pouting lips.

“this weed got me feeling kinda lazy, use me to get off baby i know you can do it,” he gave your thigh a few soft pats and you whined. you sat up just the slightest bit to pull eren’s boxers down mid thigh, his painfully hard dick slapping against his toned stomach. it was a struggle to get your panties off without fully standing up but you managed, and as soon as they were off you began grinding your pussy up and down his dick. each time his mushroom tip nudged against your clit you let out a little mewl that was music to eren’s ears. “goddamn babydoll haven’t even put it in yet and you’re already making my dick wet as fuck,” he groaned, digging his fingers into the plush of your thighs. your slick had his dick glistening in sunlight and man oh man was it a sight to see.

you didn’t even care that he wasn’t inside you yet, all you could focus on was how hard n warm his dick was. “you already gonna cum? hm?” eren breathlessly chuckled and you replied with a weak ‘uh huh.’ one side of eren wanted to take charge so bad and just fuck you silly, but the other part of him was loving how you were taking the lead and becoming so so consumed in the pleasure you were getting just from grinding on his dick.

within minutes you were cumming on his dick with a pathetic whimper, your hands slamming onto his chest so you were able to ride out your orgasm for as long as possible. you were incredibly sensitive in that moment thanks to the two blunts you previously smoked, but that didn’t stop you from wrapping your hand around eren’s dick, using your cum as a lubricant to slowly jerk him off. “just…just need a minute to regroup,” you breathlessly giggled, flicking your wrist a tad faster. eren groaned quietly, his eyes fluttering shut. “take all the time you need baby i’m—s-shit, i’m content as can be right now,” and he really was!! he had gods most beautiful creation taking care of him how could he not be loving life right now??

“‘kay think i’m ready,” you whispered to yourself before moving your body up until his tip was at your entrance. you slowly lowered yourself down, whining at the stretch. it rlly didn’t matter how many times you and eren had fucked you just couldn’t quite get used to the stinging stretch from that first push in. you finally bottomed out and eren’s hands wasted no time finding purchase on your hips. you felt so full.

“feels s’good ren,” you mewled, slowly moving your hips up and down. you pressed your lips to his in a needy kiss which he happily returned, shoving his tongue in your mouth in the process. “i know baby i know. feel so fuckin’ good—like heaven i swear you feel like heaven,” he grunted, bucking his hips up. you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, giving it a few soft nibbles. ‘so cute’ he thought to himself as you suckled on his lip. he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing lazy circles onto the throbbing nub. “keep doin’ that m’gonna cum again,” your voice was becoming slurred as your second orgasm of the day was approaching.

you buried your face in eren’s neck letting out little chants of his name as your orgasm washed over you. your mind was so fuzzy the only thing keeping you grounded was the smell of eren’s pine scented body wash. “come back to me baby it’s okay i got you,” he murmured in your ear, stroking your back gently. “want…want some more but i can’t do it, need you to take control please,” you whimpered, twirling your fingers in the silky soft strands of his hair.

eren pressed a kiss to the side of your head and wrapped his strong arms around your back before bucking his hips up. usually his pace would be fast and unforgiving, but he knew you had plans for the day and didn’t want to make you completely fucked out. “yeah jus’ like that baby…love the way you fuck me,” your honey smooth voice moaned directly into his ear. oh how eren loved the praise. eren glanced at the alarm clock on your side of the bed:

10:37 AM

as much as he wanted to savor this moment he knew you’d need at least a thirty minute breather to regroup from the sex, and then it would take you about a good hour to get ready for brunch so unfortunately he had to make this quick. his thrusts picked up and you squealed from how hard his dick was bumping into your pressure point. yeah you’d definitely need a pretty long break afterwards. you removed your face from his neck and after what felt like an eternity eren was able to see your gorgeous semi-fucked out face. you couldn’t help the little droplet of drool that escaped from your kiss swollen lips—he was fucking you that good.

“c’mon renny gimme that nut i need it,” you pouted, squishing his cheeks together and giving him a sloppy kiss. eren moaned into your mouth, his thrusts becoming sloppier by the second. “m’gonna give it to you don’t worry—f-fuck gonna…gonna fill that pretty pussy up,” he practically growled, giving you a harsh smack on your ass.

“gonna fill you up so full you’re gonna feel me in your tummy all—”

thrust

“fucking”

thrust

“day”

really really hard thrust

“oh shit!” you cried, unintentionally biting down pretty hard on eren’s poor bottom lip. the mix of pain and pleasure had eren’s eyes rolling as he finally came inside you with a deep groan. you weren’t too far behind, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. eren stilled his movements completely but kept your body in an iron grip against his. he hadn’t even realized your head had found purchase once again nuzzled into his neck until he heard little sniffles. worry began to coarse through his veins as he lifted your head from his neck, inspecting your face with his brows furrowed.

“what’s wrong? what happened? did i hurt you? why are you crying? talk to me please,” questions were coming out of his mouth left and right making you giggle. “wha-what? why are you laughing?” the smallest pout was settling on his lips and you internally cooed at how cute he was being. you cradled his jaw in your hands, giving his nose a soft kiss. “m’fine ren it was just a little intense, that shit is strong,” you laughed again, referring to the two roaches in the ashtray. eren let out a tiny sigh of relief after hearing you were okay, a small smile now making its way onto his lips. “damn you bit my lip kinda hard huh?” he chuckled, sweeping his tongue over his bottom lip and tasted the faintest bit of something metallic.

“m’sorry baby,” you frowned giving his lips three kisses. you slowly lifted yourself off of him making you both groan in unison. “i should probably go shower—don’t wanna be late,” you sighed, sitting up, careful not to let eren see the wince on your face. although eren was tough as nails, seeing you in any kind of pain after sex absolutely broke him.

eren sat up as well and followed you to the bathroom, his eyes drifting to the cum that slowly made its way down your thigh. “didn’t you already shower while i was sleep?” you quirked an eyebrow as steam began to fill the room. eren wrapped his arms around you from behind, giving your neck a sweet kiss, “i did but i certainly don’t mind taking another one with you.” you felt something hard poke at your back and it was all starting to make sense. “really eren? really? we just got done not even ten minutes ago,” you giggled breaking out of his hold. eren licked his lips as he examined your naked body, “s’not my fault ole boy likes you so much.”

“yeah whatever horndog.”

<333

[tragedygroupie]

babysitter blues

cw: LEGAL age gap, fingering, praise kink, loss of virginity, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), daddy kink, blink and you’ll miss it dacryphilia, authority kink (???), imbalanced power dynamic kinda???, alexandria rick, kind of long winded buildup to the smut, brief substance use (alcohol), soft dom! rick… yeah that’s all i can think of rn.

your entire life had been colored by an overwhelming sense of inertia. tucked away in the mundane labyrinth of the suburbs, not even the advent of the apocalypse could blot out the pervasive sense of ennui that had followed you since childhood. the horrors of the newly established outer world, the grotesque undead and the occasionally more dangerous still living were completely unknown to you. the apocalypse had not annihilated your reality, it merely redefined the confines of your sequestration.

life in alexandria was largely a matter of finding a way to pass the time. girls that barely qualified as adults weren’t exactly hot commodities, rarely sought out for anything, so it fell on you to fill the hours until the end of the world.

sometimes it was reading, which slowly morphed into a project of creating a library for the community, almost entirely curated from your own collection, with some generous donations here and there from bemused older folks surprised that young people still cared about that kind of thing.

other times it was babysitting, which started largely as preemptive measure to get out of being assigned any kind of work that would require any amount of physical activity. sure it was lazy, but you enjoyed the company of most of the kids, and they all liked you, enchanted by the whimsical dresses you wore and the stuffed animal army you had at your disposal.

truly, the only visible sign that you were experiencing an apocalypse rather than another red hot american summer were the bags under your eyes, perpetually exhausted from the never ending parade of nightmares that left you jolting awake, violently gasping for air.

a girl like you had no business hanging around a man like rick grimes. perpetually tense, eyes wildly darting around like he was itching to drive the butter knife he spread his jam with into the throat of some unspecified assailant. a bloody splash of color in your grayscale world. he was unlike anything you’d ever seen, a Marlboro man, blue collar through and through, from the dirt that he could never seem to fully rid his nails of to the rough, calloused hands that secretly made your mouth water.

this was the apocalypse, yet your sense of self preservation was as brittle as it’d been when you were sixteen. all your snark, that goddamn mouth that always got you in trouble evaporated when you were around him, replaced with an unfamiliar earnestness that made you cringe internally. you tried, really you did, to not follow him around like a lovesick puppy, to think of reasonable pretenses for your incessant need to be in his proximity, and fortunately enough, you quickly found an in.

no matter how adept rick was in this new world, he seemingly struggled when it came to childcare. when it came to his daughter, he was wildly protective yet somehow simultaneously clueless, and the first time you saw something approaching relief flash through his eyes was when you offered to look after her.

truth be told, rick didn’t quite know what to make of you. you were soft without being stupid, sheltered but not maddeningly clueless, and your eagerness to listen to him when everyone else dismissed him as paranoid endeared you to him in a way no one else in Alexandria quite managed. when you offered to look after judith, the last thing he thought was that you’d become a distraction. you were pretty, sure, but you were young enough to be his daughter, and if there was one thing rick grimes wasn’t, it was cliché.

but goddamn did you make it hard. his life in the new world had been characterized by leaving absolutely no room for error, every potential outcome identified and accounted for. yet in his brief respite from having to care for his daughter entirely by himself, he failed to consider that you wouldn’t just be a hot flash of want that pulsed through his veins whenever he happened to run into you, you’d be in his home. he was a stronger man than most, but he was still a man, and being in such close proximity to that kind of temptation was enough to drive anyone crazy.

every time he walked through the door it was something new. sitting on the floor with your hands outstretched, beckoning judith to crawl towards you, oblivious to your skirt riding up your parted thighs. bending over the cradle to kiss her good night, while the cotton of your already short dress just barely covered your ass.

you may not have been completely clueless about the dangers outside the walls, but you were downright brainless when it came to the effect you had on him, and it was that very lack of awareness that had him fucking his fist in the shower, coming with a groan to the thought of those pretty, naive eyes looking up at him as he split you open. it wasn’t enough, like putting a bandaid over a cut that sliced to the bone, but it was a safety valve, it kept him from doing something stupid.

today shouldn’t have been any different from the routine he had established. he got home as dusk started to settle, having made an extra effort to see judith before she went to bed. he tried to leave the frustrations of today at the door, determined to be a good father, to exact control over the flaming emotions that licked up his chest, stopping the spread before he became engulfed.

as soon as he hears your voice, with its lilting quality as you respond to judith’s babbling, the hard lines that have taken up a virtually permanent residence on his forehead soften. he walks across the threshold, into the living room where you’re sprawled across the couch, judith sitting on your lap. you get up, and he has a blissful few seconds to admire the dress you’re wearing, a little white dress with embroidered flowers better suited for frolicking in a garden than waiting out the end of the world, before you open your mouth to greet him.

“look who’s here judith! daddy’s here!”

fuck.

he knows you didn’t mean it like that, and a better man wouldn’t have thought anything of it. a clearly innocent comment shouldn’t have the blood draining from his head and rushing towards his dick, but the way that word rolls off your tongue is downright sinful. his face is an impenetrable mask of cordiality, concealing his desire as he answers.

“how’re my girls?”

it’s more forward than he’d be under any other circumstances, but he can’t help it, he needs to see if his words affect you the way yours do him. sure enough, a rosy blush blossoms across your cheeks as you hand Judith to him. the words rattle around your head, and you make a mental note to remember it for later, when you’re alone and twilight has fallen, so you can replay it in earnest.

“she’s been wonderful, we had so much fun today, didn’t we Judith?”

you go on, filling him in with details about the day, your voice becoming a pleasant hum that barely filters through, he’s too busy looking at you. all soft curves to his taut muscles, hands that’ve never seen a day of hard work. fragile things like you normally fill him with a vague sense of irritation, if not downright disgust, but with you it’s different, the overwhelming need to lay claim to the last bit of silken sweetness in this apocalyptic wasteland threatening to undo him.

dimly, he becomes aware that you’re asking if he wants to put Judith to bed tonight, and a dull panic sets in. you can’t leave, not yet, not until he’s gotten to feel you.

“i’d like to see how you do it. for future reference” he says, his voice cool and glacial, completely devoid of the growing desperation blooming in his abdomen.

you nod, secretly proud at the prospect of teaching him something. he’s so worldly, so knowledgeable in things you hadn’t even conceived, and the idea of him wanting to learn from you about anything makes you feel mature, no longer a lovesick puppy yapping at his heels.

you three go to judith’s nursery, and when he passes her to you, you begin to show him the routine you’ve established. it’s quick, nothing flashy, just getting her changed into her pjs, singing a quick song, and stroking her hair until she falls asleep. mercifully, she’s out like a light, and the two of you creep out of her room, careful not to disturb her. when you get into the hall, you avoid his eyes, unsure of what to do now. you see him so rarely, and without the buffer of Judith, you feel small again, all that newfound maturity fleeting, like it was never there.

rick has to suppress a smirk at your shyness, and after a beat of silence, he’s unable to resist making an offer.

“you want a drink?”

you look up at him, trying in vain to hide your excitement.

“sure.”

one drink follows another, though you never quite manage to get rid of the grimace that accompanies each swig. its endearing, he knows you’re only drinking this shitty beer because he offered it, trying to convince him that you can handle yourself. you’re sitting together on the couch, and the once respectable distance between the two of you has shrunk down considerably, your knee against his as you go on and on, talking about anything that catches your fancy. to his credit, he doesn’t seem to mind, nodding and trying to focus on your words rather than how soft and warm your thigh feels pressed against his.

“i know the whole library idea seem… frivolous, but you should come by sometime. i can recommend you something good.”

he smirks, his voice coming out low and measured.

“never said that darlin. i just don’t have a whole lot of time for reading.”

you shake your head, your voice earnest in a way that would leave you mortified if you were sober, trying to ignore the pang of need in your cunt at the pet name.

“bullshit. you’ve probably just… never read a good book. with the way the world is… who doesn’t need escapism sometimes?”

he nods, clearly humoring you. it’s nice to see you passionate about something, even if he shares absolutely no interest in it. he notices how you shift next to him, your thighs pressing together at the pet name, and makes sure to take note of it.

“amen to that.” he says, taking another swig from the bottle you’ve been sharing.

when he looks back at you, you have a dreamy, far away look in your eyes. he raises an eyebrow at you, his voice coming out teasing.

“have i got something on my face?”

you shake your head earnestly, your voice coming out achingly sincere.

“you have really nice eyes.”

he scoffs, amused by the observation. it’s something you’d normally be too scared to say to him, but the beer has clearly loosened your inhibitions, and goddamn if he doesn’t love it.

when you lean towards him, your lips meeting his softly, all unsure and sweet, it’s all he can do to not groan. this is wrong, you’re young enough to be his daughter, he should be the adult here, put a stop to this and gently tell you that you deserve better than him.

instead, he finds himself kissing you back, all those good, proper sentiments dying in his throat as he pulls you into his lap, his mouth never leaving yours. his hands are all over you, exploring every inch of the soft, supple flesh he’s been craving for god knows how long. you’re trying to keep up, your mouth clumsy and shy against his, but he’s relentless, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he kneads the plush of your ass through your white lace panties.

your dress is riding up your thighs, and it’s all he can do to not tear it off you. he knows he needs to be gentle, he gets the sense that you haven’t got much experience in this arena, even though his more primal instinct is to push you against the wall and fuck you till you see black. instead, his hands creep up your thighs, until he’s cupping your clothed cunt, your panties already dewy with arousal.

“fuck baby, all this for me?” he asks, his voice teasing as he marvels at how easily aroused you are. all this from a few kisses, it’s really just too easy.

you let out a keening whine, your hips instinctively rocking your cunt against his hand, desperate for any amount of friction. you nod desperately, too dumbstruck for words.

he chuckles, slowly starting to rub you through your underwear.

“use your words, pretty girl.” he says, his voice half joking, but with an undercurrent of seriousness, a warning that he’ll stop if you don’t comply.

your eyes flutter shut, the puffy sleeves of your dress falling down your shoulders as your hands go to grip his big arms.

“all.. for… you” you pant, your cheeks burning red.

it’s embarrassing really, how soaked your panties are. it makes you feel like a slut, but you know you wouldn’t get this way for just anyone. you couldn’t imagine being this easy for someone else, and if you were more clear headed you’d try to tell him, but all you can do is mewl pathetically, frustrated by how the lace of your panties dilutes the feeling of his fingers on you.

he chuckles, reading you like a book. he moves the lace aside, dipping his index finger into your aching cunt, biting back a groan when you gasp.

“that feel good, baby?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

you let out a whiny mhmmm, and he allows it, pumping steadily while the rough pad of his thumb rubs circles onto your clit. when he curls his thick finger inside you, you swear you see stars, and your nails dig into the weathered muscles of his arms.

“oh fuck, daddy” you mumble, too far gone to notice or care that you slipped up, oblivious to how his eyes light up at your words.

“poor thing… those little fingers just don’t do it for you, do they? can’t reach that far, isn’t that right?” he says, condescension dripping from his voice.

you nod furiously, your hips bucking into his touch as your head lolls forward, letting him pull you closer into his arms as you whimper out a response.

“s-so close daddy”

he coos at you, that sweet desperation making him throb in his jeans. normally he’d make you work for it, make you respond to all his questions to build good habits (because there would be a next time), but he figures he’ll go easy on you just this once, especially when you plead so pretty.

“go on baby. make a mess f’me.” he says encouragingly, and that’s all it takes for you to come, burying your forehead into his chest as you ride out your high.

when you go limp, he starts stroking your hair, maneuvering your head so you’re facing him. he kisses you again, and it takes a moment before you kiss him back, your brain still partially fogged over from pleasure.

“you act like no one’s ever made you cum before” he says teasingly, and when your face flushes it just confirms what he already thought: you’re a virgin.

you avoid his eyes, your voice coming out all shy and flustered.

“i don’t really have much experience… is that a problem?”

he has to resist the urge to scoff, because no, that is absolutely not a problem. if anything, it makes him want you more. but he doesn’t want to scare you, so he just tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him, his hand cupping your cheek.

“it’s not a problem at all, honey. just wanna make sure you’re okay with all this.”

it takes all his self restraint to ask you that, because his jeans feel far too tight and all he wants to do is bury himself inside you before he preemptively blows his load, but he knows he needs to make sure you’re ready, that you want this too. despite everything, he’s still trying to be a good man.

you look up at him, and you nod, your pupils all blown out and hazy.

“ ‘m sure.” you say softly, before reaching up to kiss him.

he savors the kiss, giving you a moment before he stands up. you let out a small squeak, your thighs immediately going to wrap around his waist, looking at him in confusion.

“what, did you think i was gonna take your virginity on the damn couch? i’m not a goddamn animal” he grumbles, looking at you with fond irritation as you giggle.

he presses his lips to yours to keep you quiet, sloppily making out with you as he makes his way to the bedroom. when he gets inside, he lays you down on the bed gently, his mouth never leaving yours.

he gets you undressed in no time, not giving you a hard time about the fact that your white lace panties and bra are matching (almost like you were asking for it), and when your unsteady hands finally finish fumbling with his belt you get to see his cock for the first time. and fuck is he huge.

he looms over you, his arms caging you in as he presses warm kisses to your neck, trying to ease your worry. when he pushes in, he goes all the way, burying himself to the hilt. your eyes roll back in your head, letting out a soft cry as you snake your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as he lets you adjust.

when he starts to move, he sets a slow, steady pace, and the ache gives way to newfound pleasure, your eyes screwing shut as he goes deeper than you knew was previously possible.

“fuck baby. you’re so fucking tight.” he mumbles, sucking a bruise onto your neck as you let out a moan.

when he’s sure you’re not gonna break, he starts to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and more pointed, earning whimpers and moans that seem to come from deep in your gut. tears start to fall down your cheeks, not from pain but from a combination of pleasure and being so overwhelmed.

“you cry so pretty, baby.” he says, angling his thrusts to hit that spongy spot inside your walls.

your face scrunches up as you get that newly familiar coiling feeling in your stomach, and you blearily open your eyes to look up at him, your bottom lip quivering.

“daddy… can i cum, please?” you whimper brokenly, and if he wasn’t almost there already, that definitely pushed him.

“such a sweet thing, asking permission on her first time. you can come baby, go on” he responds, his firm grip on your hips teetering dangerously close to bruising.

when you come, he can feel you pulsating around him, squeezing him like a goddamn vice, trying to milk him for all he’s got. it only takes a few more sloppy thrusts for him to join you, coming in you with a groan.

once you both came down from your highs, you turned to him, your body exhausted and spent. you weren’t exactly sure what he expected of you, you’d never hooked up with your employer before and all conventions about appropriateness were completely out the window when you had his spend dripping down your thighs.

“can i stay the night?” you ask quietly, your cheeks red with embarrassment.

to your relief, he just chuckles and pulls you closer, your head resting on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

“sweet girl, i’d be a right asshole if i sent you home like this.”

you smile, quickly falling asleep in his arms. and for what feels like the first time in months, rick finds himself dozing off without much of a fight too.

[alchemistc]

Tommy slumps further into the couch cushions, and the looks Eddie gives him is - dire, really. Tommy sort of wants to get shit faced and cry a little while cradling this throw pillow - the same one Evan had smacked him with a week ago while they crowded Eddie's too-small couch and Tommy had made fun of Evan for not knowing a single player on the Dodgers.

("You're actively rooting against them, why do you care if I know who they are?"

"Know thy enemy, Buckley," was Eddie's immediate response, and Evan had swung the pillow when he caught Tommy and Eddie fist bumping out of the corner of his eye.)

"Pretty sure it's actually cheating to come to me," Eddie intones, but he's already up and moving towards the cabinet where he keeps the good whiskey.

He settles into the recliner and gestures with the bottle, a very clear 'go on' in his expression.

Tommy thinks about maybe just - drowning himself in spirits and hiding under a rock for the rest of his life.

"I asked Evan to move in with me."

Eddie's brow kicks up. He purses his lip. Nods. His eyes do something that tells Tommy he is actively biting down on whatever it is he's thinking.

"And...you...fought. You fought about Buck ... moving in."

(Six months is such a short time, really. They've just leapt every other milestone like it's their damn job, and - Christ, they'd had keys to each other's places in weeks.)

Tommy narrows his eyes. "You know something."

"Yeah, and that's why this," he gestures vaguely in the direction of Tommy, fully pouting on his couch and commandeering too large a surface area for Eddie to actually join him there, "is cheating."

Tommy would love to point out that he just doesn't have a shit ton of friends willing to listen to him bitch about an argument he's trying to figure out without fucking imploding the whole goddamn thing. He'd love to point out that he and Eddie have already set these boundaries and Tommy is aware he's pushing it.

Tommy tilts his head against the back of the couch and stares at the ceiling. "Well if we can't talk about it, at least get me drunk."

Eddie hands him a shot glass and stands to go grab them both beers.

---

"So the thing is," Tommy says, slumped against Eddie's side and gesturing in front of himself. His hands are - they're a little blurry. Thank God he isn't on call. "The thing is."

He's got a hangnail that's been driving him nuts for weeks. He's already got a layout in his head for how to make Evan's wardrobe fit in his closet. Half of Evan's kitchen lives in Tommy's already, and he'd - he'd been sure they were in the same page.

"The thing?" Eddie asks, and - Christ, it's not like Eddie's having an easy time with any of the - anything. He's definitely overindulged right along with Tommy. Thank fuck they're not maudlin drunks, just what they need is two PTSD riddled idiots filled up with liquor and bemoaning their lives.

"What thing?"

"The thing, Tommy."

Right. The thing. "I love him," Tommy says, and Eddie's eyes go wide like he doesn't already know this. But Tommy - Tommy's said it in range of Eddie's hearing, right? He's - he's said it.

(The lone braincell shared between them whispers that Tommy has said it, once, to the curls atop Evan's sweaty head while Evan was still passed out on his chest. Fuck braincells.)

"Uhuh."

"What uhuh?"

You don't ask someone to move in with you when you still haven't worked up the courage to say I love you to someone's face, is the thing. And Evan's said it - happy and carefree and open even when Tommy just kissed him to distract him from Tommy not saying it back. He has to know, right? Tommy's said it in every other way he knows how.

"Listen, bro code broken, man, Buck's fucking terrified to mess this up with you and the whole 'you haven't said the words' has been, like, messing with his head for weeks, dude. And now outta the blue, hey move in with me? He's trying desperately not to assume you did something terrible and are using this to cover it up."

"He told you that?"

Eddie scoffs. He actually says 'pshhh', and rolls his head towards Tommy. "No." He enunciates too much. The 'o' is way too long in that word. It's a two letter word, how did he make it sound like seven syllables?

Tommy wants another shot, but Eddie had clearly not meant for that whiskey to be shared and it'd already been more than half gone when he pulled it out. There's...maybe half an ounce left. Fuck.

"Then how...?"

"I already broke bro code for you, dumbass. Can't you read between the lines?"

"Is this like the couch thing?"

The mindfuck of trying to decipher Eddie and Evan's little shared looks while Evan announced that Tommy's couch was his favorite couch had been -

He's getting off track.

He hasn't said the fucking words. He's in love with the sweetest, kindest, most beautiful, filthiest fucking man he's ever known and he hasn't said the words.

"Hamster wheel," Eddie says sagely, like that means a damn fucking thing, but Tommy's already fumbling for his phone. Texting that is out of the question, and he doesn't want to call while he's... more drunk than he'd care to admit.

Tommy shoves Eddie off his shoulder, and only gets a little spinny when he stands. He's a forty year old man, he can absolutely ask his boyfriend to pick him up from... his boyfriends best friends house and help him sober up so he can have a conversation.

"Water," Tommy says, and Eddie snorts.

"Toooo late."

Tommy feels about five years old when he shoves at Eddie's face before retreating to the kitchen.

---

"Tommy," Evan says, bent low over the couch, and Tommy blinks himself awake, regretting every drop of whiskey he'd drunk last night. He'd - there'd been water. An attempt at typing out a message. A slap fight in Eddie's kitchen when he decided to chow down on the last of the casserole Evan had left behind three days ago. More water.

This couch is way too fucking small for him. He's - he's still got one shoe on, and a blanket crumpled haphazardly over one leg. His head is pounding.

Evan looks - concerned. Maybe still a little annoyed. Fond.

"Ev," he manages, moving to sit up and regretting it when five million bees make a home right there against his frontal lobe. Smoke clears that out, right? He remembers Evan being super fucking proud that that had worked.

Evan holds up a glass of water that Tommy takes gratefully. He doesn't drink it nearly as slowly as he should.

When he's done, Evan stands, and - God his legs are long. Tommy loves those fucking legs - loves the hair that catches against his calluses on his way up towards the promised land, loves the strength behind them when he snaps his hips forward, loves the way they feel all wrapped around him when they're -

"We are not anywhere close to the sort of resolution necessary for that look," Evan says, and Tommy sighs. Because they haven't talked about it. Because they'd yelled and smacked their hands against counters and the explosion had sent them careening off in different directions and Tommy hasn't told him.

"Angry sex can be fun," Tommy wheedles, a little unnecessarily because he doesn't actually want - and on Eddie's couch to boot, which is absolutely not what he's angling for.

"I'm not mad at you," Evan says, and Tommy gives him an unimpressed look. "Okay, I'm mostly just - confused."

Fair enough. Tommy's been confusing. Tommy's been -

Tommy curls a hand around the meat of Evan's calf and tips his head against Evan's thigh. "Can we not do this in Eddie's living room?"

---

He doesn't want to admit that it took Eddie breaking all sorts of friendship rules for Tommy to even grasp the point of Evan freezing the fuck up when Tommy had mentioned his lease. He doesn't want to admit that he's fucking terrified, all the time, about the feelings in his chest that never quite settle, that bubble up at the strangest times because every-fucking-thing reminds him of Evan. He doesn't want to admit that he'd just leapt that hurdle in his mind even though Evan has been very clearly marking every other step with metaphorical (and sometimes literal) sticky notes.

Evan hands him his tea and immediately starts picking at the paper sleeve on his cup of coffee.

"I'm not afraid of losing you," Tommy starts, which is - the opposite of the point he's trying to make, and Evan's grimace tells him it's a bad place to start. "I mean that's not why I asked."

Evan is still grimacing. And that's - Christ, he hadn't even planned it, it was just - he'd been there, digging through Tommy's sock drawer, his shit tumbling out of his overnight bag at the end of the bed and his book on the history of perfume in the bedside table and his crock pot stewing something that smelled heavenly, thirty feet away, and he wanted that always, wanted that forever, wanted more than anything to enjoy all the little moments that came before he spent the money in savings hed been setting aside since successful date number five when he'd wondered if Evan had ever thought about getting married.

"You think I asked out of convenience, right? Your stuff's already there, might as well?"

"I'm not leaving things there on purpose."

"I want you to leave things there on purpose. I want all your things there, on purpose. Even when you move my milk to the fridge door and my sugar stash to the wrong pantry shelf and even when you replace my toothpaste because it doesn't have the right enamel protection."

His lip quirks. That had been a near argument too. Tommy was particular. Tommy didn't do great with change. Evan's changed damn near fucking everything, for Tommy, and he's never been more grateful for a single thing in his fucking life.

Tommy curls a finger around Evan's wrist, and his gaze darts up through his lashes. They're long, and distracting, and Tommy wouldn't mind shoving this disagreement to the side so he can brush his lips across the paper thin lids of his eyes, but -

"I missed some steps, getting there," Tommy admits, and Evan bites his lip like he's trying to hide a smile.

"My fault, a bit. I - I could see why you might have just assumed we were scaling 'em two at a time."

"Evan," he says, and breathes a sigh of relief when his free hand darts out to smooth the veins on the back of Tommy's hand.

"Next week is six months," he says, like Tommy doesn't fucking know that, and his thumb sweeps over Tommy's knuckles. "So, i -if you have anything you wanna say before then, you got a week before you can ask me again."

(Six months is the blink of an eye, actually, but Tommy hates every blink that doesn't include Evan in it.)

"You got plans?" Tommy asks, and Evan's face pinkens.

"If you're lucky I'll even tell you them."

"It's a date."

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 7 - Well This Is Awkward

CW: Angst, mention's of alcohol, mentions of panic attack's, mental health, mentions of injuries, mentions of death.

Did I mention I like medical dramas?

Previous parts - masterlist - next

Your therapist is nice. You’ve been going to her for the past 3 months, you were only supposed to go for a single session. Then the army insisted on more. Johnny was sent home on medical leave a few days after you left. He came to see you and stayed the night. 

The next morning you had to tell him to leave, it just wasn’t the same. 

‘I’ll be staying at the house if you want to visit?’ 

Shit, you forgot about the house. The place you all pitched in to buy, so you all had somewhere to stay when you were on leave. Everyone’s flats are too small to accommodate all 5 of you. Besides, flat hopping everyday across London was expensive. 

‘I’ll talk to John when he’s back.’ All you want back is the deposit. 

“Do you feel guilty?” She asks you. It snaps you out of your thoughts and you turn to look at her. 

“No.” You say, she hums. You hate it when she does that. You don’t know why it is a particularly tough session. You just want to go home. “They hurt me. I don't feel guilty about that.” 

“You left the unit though.” Bitch. “It’s okay to feel guilty about that.” 

“Okay fine. I feel guilty about leaving Johnny and Kyle.” You snap back. Anything to get her to sign you off so you can go. You look up at the clock, you still have at least 40 minutes left in this season. 

“Have you got your letter from the university yet?” She asks changing the subject. You nod. After a few weeks of crying on the bathroom floor and drowning yourself in bottles of vodka you decided to get your shit together. 

“That’s good, what's the plan going forward?” 

“I’ll be posted on a base somewhere where I can get hands-on experience in trauma care. With studying on the side.” You say without going too much into the complications. 

“So the army is actively helping you, that's good.”  

“Yeah I think they’re willing to do anything so long as I don’t sue them.” You scoff under your breath. She hums.

You don’t know how true that is, maybe it’s just something you tell yourself so you don’t feel so conflicted over how accommodating they’ve been. They’re paying your uni bills and even got you one some army teaching program aimed to fast track you through the ranks. 

“What about Kyle and Johnny? Have you heard from them since you spoke to them last?” Fucking bitch. You sigh, turning away from her. The last time you spoke to them was almost a month ago. They text you from time to time, try to call you. 

You’ve ignored them, so much that you feel like anything you say to them will just be meaningless. 

“Yeah, they’re deployed.” You lie. She smiles. You look back up at the clock. 

30 minutes to go.

______________________

Iraq is hot. That you expected but the hospital’s electricity is sketchy at best. You have to keep the air-con off to make sure the ventilators don’t cut out. The US built this place, you’re only supposed to be here for another week at least before you’ll move again. 

As soon as the electric is fixed it will be handed over to the UN to run, until then it was getting a dry run as a combat hospital. Lots of blown off limbs and bullets to pull out people. Lots of death. 

You told Johnny and Kyle where you were going when you got your placement. You’re trying to patch things up with them after basically leaving them on read for almost 3 months. Your therapist said it would be a good thing to do. 

The sun is setting, you're sitting outside watching as it touches the top of the distant mountains. The place is busy, friendly forces are still pretty much living here. It’s the only safe zone in this part of the desert, why the UN wanted a hospital out here you’ll never know. 

Something about re-urbanisation of previously controlled territories. You don’t care, you're here to pull bullets out of people and save lives. Other than your mentor-Dr. Sands-you’re the only other doctor on the base. Doctor is a loose term, you’re technically still a student, but you ace all your skills labs, and the army is begging for help apparently. 

You let out a breath, finishing the rest of your drink and getting up and pulling your white lab coat on. 

“Well, fancy seeing you ‘ere.” You hear a familiar thick accent behind you. You turn to see Johnny standing behind you. 

What the fuck.

You’re hugging him before you can stop yourself. You see Kyle, John and Simon stood behind him. They’re all geared up, weapons slung over their chest or back. 

You thought you would feel something when you saw them. Maybe you'd want to run, scream, cry, anything. You feel nothing, just numbness.

“What are you doing here?” You ask.

“Oh you know, Shepherd says jump, we say how high.” he says nudging you, it makes you smile and you shake your head. 

“Finally going for the MD?” He asks, pointing at the student doctor tag on your coat. 

“Yeah well, you like putting bullets in people. I like pulling them out.” 

“Oh yeah not even the occasional love tap?” He jokes, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

“Only the bad guys.” You reply. You look up at Kyle who’s smiling. Then John and Simon. 

“You look good.” John says. 

“Yeah well that’s what 6 months of therapy will do to you.” It’s bitter, harsher than you expected it to be. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him in 6 maybe 7 months. He hasn’t changed a bit. He still smiles at you, his body language open, his hands on his hips. 

Simon stands with his arms crossed, his presence is looming, making hairs stand up on the back of your neck. 

“It’s good to see you again.” Kyle says, you nod at him. 

“Oh when we’re back we should catch a bite to eat.” Johnny says enthusiastically, moving away over to Kyle. 

“You can tell us what to avoid in the mess.” Kyle adds. You smile again. You go to open your mouth but your pager beeps. You look down at it. It’s the doctor. 

“Yeah, when you’re back, come find me.” You say turning into the building. 

“Stay safe!” Johnny calls.

“Yeah you too!” You call back pulling your radio off your hip. When you make it through the door you squeeze your eyes closed for a second and let out a long breath. 

Now you hate this hospital even more. 

______________________

It’s dark out now. You look over at the clock and it's almost midnight. You’re sat at the nurses station listening to them talk about whatever drama is going on in the next base. You still can’t believe you ended up in the same base as 141. 

They’ll be gone soon, even Johnny seemed surprised, maybe he thought you’d be gone by now. Now you have to eat with them at some point. Johnny and Kyle at least.

The doctor left an hour ago to go to another base for a surgery. You’re used to this taking the night shifts. Normally you just sleep and get woken up a few times for the nurses to ask for medication changes. You’ve only ever had one trauma come in at night and the doctor was there to help you with the limited night time staff. 

You tried to sleep but you couldn’t, you were restless trying to think about what they were doing here? Who were they after? How long would they be here? At least at the nurses station you can listen to the nurses and let their gossip distract you. 

The red trauma phone rings. For a second you think it’s a joke, it’s the normal phone. Nope, the red light is flashing on it. You stand up picking it up. 

“Trauma.” You say.

“Got one incoming, ETA 15 minutes. GSW to the chest, breathing unconscious. 30 year old male.” You hear an American voice say as you write it down. You don’t have time to worry or be nervous. This is what you live for, you let the adrenaline pump through you. It clears your mind as you take down the information. 

“Copy, what’s the name?” 

“Riley.” Your heart stops.

“Say again?”

“Riley, Simon Riley.”  

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. You’re squeezing the phone in your hand, the pen has fallen to the floor. You look over at the nurses already pulling gowns on and getting into position in the resus bay. 

You don’t even register saying copy and putting the phone back. You turn away from the nurses braising yourself on a filing cabernet. 

Simon’s shot. All you can see is his face, his body covered in blood. He’s always so careful, he’s always the one dragging people out the field not getting shot. Something must have gone horribly wrong. 

You weren't there. He’s shot and you weren't there to save him. 

You suck in breaths of air, the adrenaline isn’t helping now. 

“Doctor?” You hear one of the nurses call. You turn to look at them, you have to keep it together. 

“Page the doctor.”

next

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[prentissluvr]

hold me, it's enough — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, descriptions of physical assault, small injuries, blood, pet names (baby, honey), barely edited, 1.6K words. requested !

prompt : "who did this to you?"

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

the cruelest part about tonight is the way you have to call sam to come pick you up, like you’re some child who’s gotten sick at school. it’s embarrassing and makes you feel guilty because your call woke him up. he’d gone back to the motel early to sleep after a long hunt; took the impala after dean disappeared with a girl, leaving you alone in the bar with your own car in the parking lot.

he answers after four rings, voice a little husky from sleep as he says your name questioningly into the speaker.

“hey, sam,” you respond, sighing quietly to yourself, “sorry to wake you, but i– i can’t drive myself back to the motel… any chance you could pick me up?”

you hear the rustle of sheets from the other end of the line, and you assume it’s sam sitting up. “yeah, of course,” he agrees easily, already up and looking for socks to put on. you can’t see the light frown on his face as he picks up on all of the little nuances in your voice. “you don’t sound drunk. baby, is everything alright?”

you figured he’d ask, but the expectation doesn’t remedy your hesitation to answer. “i… sort of got into a fight. hit my head real hard and i don’t think i should be driving.”

the split second after your answer is enough to show you sam’s surprise. “jesus, honey, are you okay?” he asks, worry making his voice thick.

“yeah, yeah, i’m okay. promise,” you reassure him. he takes a moment to consider your words; whether you’re lying for his sake or if you’re actually okay. your voice is clear and, though a little tired, sounds like you’re just fine. you don’t seem dizzy or out of sorts, and sam takes that as a good sign considering it was your head that you hit. so, he relaxes just a touch as he climbs into the impala. you hear the car door opening and shutting through the phone speaker.

“so, you got into a bar fight?” he asks, a touch of amusement in his voice. he’s still worried about you, but that wasn’t news he expected to hear tonight, or really any night at all. sure, you never back down from a fight, but you’re certainly not the type to start one either.

you roll your eyes a little at his tone. “sort of. the guy deserved it. i elbowed him in the guts and he shoved me. he looked utterly terrified when i stood back up and he saw the look in my eyes,” you describe, humor finding its way into your voice at the end.

sam wants to give a little laugh at your joke, tell you that he can imagine the man running away with his tail between his legs just from the look in your eye, but he’s still stuck on the fact that he shoved you. on the fact that he did something that warranted you to resort to physical violence. 

he clenches his jaw before asking, “did he try to touch you?” his voice is low as he presses down on the gas harder.

wishing your comment about the man’s scared look would have been successful in distracting sam, you sigh. sometimes, sam is too damn smart and he thinks too damn much.

“he got a little handsy, but i took care of it,” you reassure him. “it’s okay. pretty sure i scared him off so bad he left the bar.”

sam grits his teeth, trying not to react too strongly in a way he knows you won’t like. “i’m gonna beat his sorry ass.” he settles for angry, but not too much, and not even possible since the fucker’s already gone.

“yeah, i know,” you sigh into the phone.

the bar’s only ten minutes from the hotel, and sam gets there faster than that. he walks into the establishment, eyes scanning the crowded place to find your familiar silhouette seated at the bar, your left elbow resting on the counter and holding a rag and plastic bag filled with ice to your head. he rushes towards you, swiftly maneuvering between tables and moving bodies.

he says your name a few steps before he reaches you, as to not startle you, placing a worried hand on your shoulder blade when you turn to look at him. he sucks in a sharp breath when he sees your face. there’s drying blood streaking down the side of your face, and your eyes betray that you’re much more shaken by the incident than you were letting on over the phone. he curses your talent in sounding much more okay than you really are. his jaw clenches and his eyes are worried and angry.

“who did this to you?” his voice is rough, the words forced out through gritted teeth as he fights to stay gentle. you sigh at his words, able to tell immediately how angry he’s feeling.

“he’s gone now,” you say gently, secretly relishing in how protective he is of you. you instantly feel safer, much more secure with him in front of you. “i’m okay,” you say, knowing he needs to hear those words. “i promise. you know that head wounds always look worse than they are. and i wasn’t lying when i said that my glare scared him completely off.”

sam wants to tell you that he’s going to find this sorry excuse of a man, that he’s going to yell at him and hurt him and show him how horrible of a mistake he made by messing with you, but he won’t say all of that. though he’ll certainly think it. he is thinking it. but he knows that’s not what you care to hear, knows that anger is not the face you wish for him to wear.

“i believe that,” he finally settles on saying, voice softening just a little. “let’s get out of here. clean you up. there’s blood all over your face.”

you nod. another time you might quip ‘i know. it’s my face, i can feel it.’ today, you just let him place his hand on the small of your back and lead you out to the familiar black car. neither of you have to say anything to agree that you’ll come back for your own car in the morning.

sam’s silence is large, and yours is heavy. they stretch alongside each other, running out on the road with the spinning tires and escaping through the half open windows so that when sam sits you down on the edge of your shared bed, they’ve almost run out. each silence lasts until he sits next to you, first aid kit in hand, and he gently cups your face to turn it towards him. your eyes are a little shiny, and his face softens.

“i’m sorry this happened,” he whispers. “i shouldn’t have left you alone.” that’s when it hits you how guilty he’s been feeling this whole time, thinking about how nothing would’ve happened if he stayed.

“no,” you shake your head. “no, sam, this wasn’t your fault.” your voice is full of conviction as you say this, because it’s true. “you couldn’t have known this would happen. you only left because you know that i can take care of myself, and i did. i took care of it, and it’s over now. and i’m okay.”

“honey,” he chides, wishing you’d admit to him how you really feel. though he might start crying himself if he has to keep looking at you with so much blood on your face, so he takes the wet cloth he prepared in the bathroom and begins to gently wipe at your bloodied skin. the redness comes off easily, but he still hates the sight of it on the white cloth. “just because we deal with monsters and demons and horrible shit all the time doesn’t mean that creepy, pushy men are any less gross and scary than they really are. just because you can deal with it, doesn’t mean you should’ve had to.”

you purse your lips, then swallow against tears. the feeling of that man’s hand grabbing your wrist hard is still so visceral, and the way that you’d been so taken by surprise that his strength sent you sprawling to the floor still makes you feel sort of embarrassed. and sam’s soft hands and gentle reassurances are so contrasting, so good to you that it makes you a little emotional. 

unconsciously, your own hand drifts to the opposite wrist where the man grabbed you, the sleeve of your dress shirt wrinkled and skin tender from how strong his grip was. the movement catches sam’s eye, and his gaze darkens once again when he realizes how you were grabbed. you see the anger and guilt resurface on his features and you gently grab his wrist instead.

with confidence, you guide his hand to yours and hold it there, looking him right in the eye. your eyes swim with faith and sincerity as you wordlessly tell him that you trust his hands on you, on the places where you’re bruised and bloody.

“it’s okay,” you say, voice hushed and assured. “this… it’s enough, sam. it’s all i need.” just these few words tell him that you don’t care that he wasn’t there when it happened, that his care and comfort in this moment are enough to make it better. that his understanding and worry and protectiveness still mean so much. that things happen, but you’ll be okay so long as he’s there to hold you in the aftermath.

so he does just that. he cleans and dresses your wound, and holds you close on the edge of the bed until you ask to go to sleep. then he holds you under the covers, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and whispering sweet things, until there’s nothing but soft darkness and his touch left, and you’re asleep.

[redflagshipwriter]

Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy) chapter 5 progress

“Hey!” Duke hollered, as soon as Jason put the key in his door. “Welcome back, loser!”

Danny huffed out a laugh. 

“Hey yourself,” Jason called out, holding the door open and making sure Danny got in before he closed it behind them. “Scruffy little brother, this is Danny. Danny, this is Duke.” 

“Wait, what?” Duke skidded into the room on socked feet, eyes wide and mouth grinning in confused delight. “I didn't know you had any friends!” 

“Oh, we're not friends,” Danny reassured him easily, missing Jason's scowl. “Just dating. So there's still no proof that he has friends.” He winked obnoxiously. 

Jason could see the moment Duke shut down and rebooted twice as excited. 

Christ. He quietly cursed to himself and ducked his head to hide the burning in his cheeks as Danny bounced over to hold his hand out. He was never beating the allegations of favoritism after this, Jason sighed. 

Danny was a little sun spot when he chirped, “Nice to meet you, I hear you're the generous distributor of games?”

“Yeah, that request makes sooo much more sense now.” Duke met Danny's hand with a friendly slap and then went in for a hug. Jason cringed at the familiarity- but apparently it was the right move. Danny went for it, backslapping Duke amiably. They separated. Danny thoughtfully held Duke at a distance, hands on his shoulders. 

“I see. So, you're my true opponent?” At Duke's nod, Danny smiled with a few too many teeth. He leaned in to hold intense eye contact. “Gonna kick your ass,” Danny vowed. 

“You can try, old man,” Duke shot back. They separated with grins. “I’ll set up. Jason, your taste is so much better than I thought it would be.”

Jason made an offended noise. “Wait, what?” 

Duke gestured at him with one lazy hand as he unlatched the top of his backpack and started withdrawing games. “I figured you would exclusively date super serious tough types.”

“... I'm tough,” Danny said morosely.

Jason resisted the urge to cackle. He didn't disbelieve it at all! Size wasn't everything. But the uh, the big baby eyes and slumping shoulders really weren't selling the toughness.

Duke shrugged, brutal and unconcerned with the damage he was leaving in his wake. “I was thinking more like a forensic accountant who collects rocks and cage fights literally just for the fitness benefits.” 

Jason took a moment to consider that theoretical accountant. He would date that person. They sounded well rounded. It was a sensible career, a chill hobby, and a reasonably active lifestyle. What was wrong with that? He frowned to himself. What was Duke even implying??

“I would date that accountant,” Danny reluctantly admitted. He seemed disgruntled about it. “I don't cage fight, sorry to disappoint. You can't imagine how much my sister would kill me if I tried.” 

“It's fine,” Jason reassured, making a mental note of a sister and the potential for quantifiable subsequent deaths. “Me either.” 

He could, though. He thought about it for a moment. He'd kick so much ass. That would be a fun way to give Bruce a heart attack. 

Duke snorted, but thankfully said nothing else. Jason didn't want to hear what Duke thought about his odds in cage fighting. Jason knew what was in his heart and that it was fighting potential. 

The game Duke and Danny settled on was a multiplayer racing game. Jason dutifully tried. His car bounced along and beat out all but one of the computer's characters. He endured two rounds before he bowed out and leaned back to watch the other two trash talk each other. 

Honestly, these games were repetitive and pretty boring. Jason zoned out and stretched. He was laying his arm along the back of the couch before he realized that was a bad idea. 

He froze, forearm just barely brushing against the back of Danny's neck. Danny… didn't seem to care. 

Well. Jason let his arm relax. It was only weird if Danny thought it was weird. 

Duke glanced over out of the corner of his eye and gave Jason a cat-faced smirk. Jason raised his hand just enough to show off his favorite finger. 

“Hey, gimme a min?” Duke said. “I need to use the bathroom.”

Liar. Sneaking liar, Jason thought fondly. He was going to try to spy and see what they did when he left the room. 

Danny hit the pause button and let the controller drop to the sofa. “Yeah, go piss girl,” he drawled. 

Jason cocked his head to the side in confusion.

Duke just laughed, so that must have been some kind of reference. He clambered over the back of the sofa and gave Danny's shoulders a light push on his way past. 

Danny went with the motion and bumped into Jason with a giggle. Jason endured it patiently, bemused but enjoying that they were both happy. 

The bathroom door shut behind Duke. 

Danny leaned further into Jason and contorted his neck at a frankly precarious angle to look up at him. “Are you having fun?” He checked. Danny's ear brushed against Jason's chest in a way that he was hyper aware of. There was line of concern between his eyebrows that Jason kinda wanted to smooth away with a thumb.

[wzkfuu]

SAVE A HORSE (ride a cowboy)

cowboy!leon x fem!reader

summary: THIS IS FREAKY .. u guys are just hornballs

notes: reader wears a dress and thats all ok bye

Everything that needed to be done has been done. Pretty quickly, actually.

The stables were clean, the animals well-fed, and there was still the rest of the day ahead with more work to do. Probably need to hop on the tractor to take care of the cornfields later in the afternoon. Ah, and there’s that broken, rickety fence for the goats that needs fixing too. But for now, Leon could rest.

Oh yeah, a damn well-deserved rest after this busy morning.

Hat on his face and hands behind his head, Leon was slowly relaxing, his butt perfectly nestled on a heap of hay. He could hear the horses neighing and cows lowing from afar, and he didn't give a damn. Nothing could disturb his peace.

The sun rays hitting his legs warmed him up, and the pile of straw lightly scratching the bits of skin that showed wasn’t that bad either. It was rather comfy. Another thing that was comfy was his lap, apparently, given how often she climbed up.

And right now was no exception. It was like she knew exactly when Leon took a break! Mind-reading powers or something like that. Or maybe she just knew his schedule by heart now.

"Hey, don't you see I'm tryin' to let loose?" Oh, the laughter in his voice was so audible he couldn't hide it from her . She jumped in his lap just like he predicted, all giddy and happy to bother him. "Ah, God. Stop that!" His retort was playful as he tried to prevent those annoying hands from messing with his hair or playing with his hat. Ugh, his alone time was over.

She squirmed like a damn worm on his thighs, making Leon sink even more into the haystack. "I swear, if your parents see us like this, I'm gonna get kicked out." And he couldn't be more right. If her mom and dad saw their farmer boy with their sweet child like this... oh dear, he preferred not to imagine the rest. Yet despite the very tiny risk, Leon's hands stayed on her hips.

Hell yes. That damn ass is gonna get him fired one day. No doubt.

“They won’t silly!” She smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she reached out and gently took his hat from his head. With a playful flick of her wrist, she positioned it atop her own head, adjusting it so that it sat just right. The hat, slightly too large for her, slipped down over her eyes for a moment, creating a comical look that made her giggle.

"Oh, shut up!" Leon groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. Of course she would say that. She always did. Always so sure of herself, always thinking she knew everything. He bet she had a plan to get him fired.

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hips, gripping tightly. "You think I don't know what you're up to? Huh? Trying to get me in trouble with your parents?" Leon's voice was low and gravelly, tinged with amusement.

He yanked her closer, her body flush against his. The heat of her skin seeped through the thin fabric of her dress, igniting a fire in Leon's veins. "Well, it's not gonna work, sweetheart. I'm not that easy."

Leon's free hand slid up her spine, fingers splaying across the smooth expanse of her back. He leaned in close, his breath ghosting over the shell of her ear. "But maybe... just maybe... if you play your cards right, I might just let you have your way with me."

“Well, you know what they say,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye, leaning in close enough for him to catch a whiff of her perfume that smelled like a mix of wildflowers and mischief. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy.” The words tumbled out of her mouth with a playful lilt, as if suggesting a rather dirty activity rather than just a simple saying.

Her tone was light and teasing , she flashed him a sly smile, her eyebrows waggling in a way that made it clear she was inviting him to join her in a little bit of fun. It was as if she was daring him, quietly challenging him to step outside the ordinary and embrace a bit of spontaneity.

Leon’s eyebrows shooting up in surprise. Where did she even learn such a thing? "Jesus, you've been holding out on me, haven't you?"

He couldn't help but chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. Her boldness never failed to catch him off guard. He loved it. Loved the way she challenged him, pushed his buttons.

"Well, if you're offering..." Leon drawled, his hands sliding down to grip her ass. He squeezed the supple flesh, kneading it roughly. "I might just take you up on that."

Leon's hips rolled up, grinding his growing boner against her core. "But I gotta warn you, baby. Once you start riding this cowboy, you ain't gonna wanna stop."

His lips crashed against hers in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue. Leon's hands roamed her body, mapping every dip and curve. He wanted to touch her everywhere, taste her, feel her come undone beneath him.

But he had to be careful. They were still on the farm, after all. One wrong move and they'd both be in deep shit.

Reluctantly, Leon broke the kiss, panting heavily. "Fuck, we can't do this here," he rasped, voice strained with desire. "Your parents could walk out here any minute."

"I don’t care” she declares playfully, her voice dripping with a mix of mischief and boldness. It’s as if a little devil has taken residence in her mind, whispering encouragement to embrace the thrill of the moment. The implication is clear: getting caught in the act doesn’t faze her in the slightest.

In fact, it seems to add a dash of excitement to her otherwise ordinary day. Her flirty demeanor suggests that maybe , the rush of doing something they absolutely shouldn’t do makes the whole escapade even more exhilarating.

"You don't care?" Leon echoed, his voice a mix of disbelief and arousal. Her brazen attitude was both infuriating and incredibly sexy. "Well, I do. I like my job, and I don't want to lose it because you can't keep your hands to yourself."

Despite his words, Leon's hands continued to roam her body, sliding under her dress to caress the smooth skin of her thighs. "But fuck, you make it so hard to resist."

Leon captured her lips in another searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to tangle with hers. He sucked on her lower lip, nipping at it with his teeth. "You're playing with fire, baby ," he murmured against her mouth. "And trust me, I know how to burn."

“Yeah? well gonna keep talking or let me ride you silly cowboy?” She winks teasingly wrapping her arms around his neck and grinding her wetness arousal against his straining cock.

Leon groaned, his resolve crumbling under her relentless teasing. "Fuck, you're a handful, you know that?" he growled, his hands gripping her hips tightly. "Alright, you win. Let's see what you've got."

He ground his hips against hers, letting her feel the full extent of his arousal. "You sure you can handle this, baby?" he taunted, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "I don't want to break you on our first ride."

Leon's hands slid under her dress, pushing it up to expose her lacy panties. He hooked his fingers in the delicate fabric, tugging it aside to reveal her glistening folds. "Look at you, already so wet for me," he purred, circling her sensitive clit with his thumb. "You want this cowboy's cock, don't you?"

Without waiting for an answer, Leon unbuckled his belt, freeing his throbbing erection from the confines of his jeans. He rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance, coating himself in her slick arousal. "Last chance to back out, sweetheart," he warned, his voice low and husky. "Because once I'm inside you, I'm not stopping until we both come so hard, we forget our own names."

GOTCHA sorry i got sleepy LMK IF YALL WANT A PART TWO 👅👅👅👅👅🙏🙏

[yannawayne]

vi. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

NOTE: THIS IS PART 6. I POSTED 2 CHAPTERS TODAY! PART 5 IS HERE

 ༻⊰───⋅

"No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday, 8:35 AM - Gotham Academy, Gotham City.

The halls of Gotham Academy buzzed with the usual chatter and laughter—a total disconnect from the storm of nerves brewing inside you. You zigzagged through the crowd, your trusty, battle-worn Converse scuffing against the linoleum. Damian’s varsity jacket hung over your uniform, the hood pulled low to hide the cuts on your face.

Morgan had ditched you at the entrance, probably off to plot some mad science in the labs. Not exactly your idea of fun, so you opted for aimless wandering instead.

And if I only could I'd make a deal with God.  And I'd get Him to swap our places.  Be runnin' up that road.  Be runnin' up that hill  Be runnin' up that building. 

Your headphones were snug, the music offering a temporary refuge as you walked, your head instinctively nodding to the beat. Even with the volume cranked up, you couldn’t shake the awareness of every shift in the crowd, the way the jacket rubbed against your sore muscles, or the stiffness in your back and arm from the muscle tear. Concerned whispers drifted past you, catching on the currents of passing conversations, but you kept moving, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm of the song.

When you reached Damian’s locker, you leaned against it, letting the cool metal soothe your aching back. You adjusted the hood of his jacket, tugging it further down to hide the cuts around your face. With your free hand, you quickly typed out a message to Damian, your fingers flying over the screen, each tap a small burst of nervous energy.

You:

"At your locker."

You hit send, slipped your phone back into your pocket, then immediately pulled it out again. This time, you opened Twitter, your thumb instinctively scrolling through your feed for any updates on the recent incident.

Tweets about the attack were already trending, paired with blurry photos and clickbait headlines. You cringed as fan accounts for #Nightcrawler started flooding in. It was wild how fast the public’s attention could flip from genuine concern to a full-blown obsession with the latest hero—or villain. 

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders building as you scrolled through the flood of posts.

“Beloved?”

A tanned hand brushed gently against your arm, followed by the sight of polished brown dress shoes stepping into view.

“Dami,” you murmured with a relieved smile, leaning into his hold, your head still bowed.

Damian instinctively pulled you into a hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. The embrace was firm but careful, as if he feared you might break under too much pressure. He could feel the stiffness in your muscles, your body wound tight with unspoken tension. His eyes narrowed with concern, but he stayed silent, letting the quiet speak for both of you.

His gaze flicked to your phone screen, catching sight of the trending tweets.

“Nightcrawler…” Damian murmured, and you lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes.

Sighing, you shifted so your cheek rested against his chest, the cool scent of his cologne grounding you. You kept scrolling, clicking on a particularly cringeworthy tweet and wincing at the fanatical comments.

“Can you believe these people?” you murmured, frustration seeping into your voice. “It’s insane.”

Sometimes you wondered how Damian and his brothers dealt with all the fanatics, the constant drooling over their hero personas—or even their civilian lives.

Damian’s grip tightened as he held you closer, his brow furrowing in disapproval as he read the tweets over your shoulder.

Repulsive. To him, it was a grotesque spectacle. The media had managed to paint the Spider into a celebrated hero, a figure of admiration, when in reality, the person behind that mask was nothing more than a monster, cloaked in deception and false heroism.

“They’re utterly obsessed,” Damian scoffed. “It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten there’s a real person behind that mask.”

“I know, right?” You sighed, closing Twitter and slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Like, I really don’t want to see those posts. They’re just—so much.”

Damian noticed your distress and instinctively started rubbing soothing circles on your back. But as his hand moved, a sharp muscle spasm seized your shoulder. You cursed, a wince escaping you as the sensation left you momentarily frozen. It felt as if someone had taken a wrench to your shoulder, yanking and twisting until every fiber protested in sharp, jarring bursts. 

Damian’s hand froze.

Muscle tear. He realized.

Without a word, he guided you gently into a nearby janitor’s closet. The door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise of the bustling hallway and granting you both some much-needed privacy. 

Inside, he carefully placed his hand on your elbow and began to stretch the affected muscle. You winced as a sharp twinge of pain flared, but Damian’s voice was soft and soothing.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple,  offering a small but comforting distraction from the pain.

Gradually, the pain eased, and you let out a sigh of relief. Your shoulders relaxed, the tight knots unwinding.

"I love you and your weird Robin skills," you said with a grateful smile, rolling your shoulders and feeling the tension dissipate.

Damian’s lips twitched into a faint, approving smile, though his voice remained gruff. “Love you too.”

He continued to watch you with a keen, sharp gaze, noticing the hood of your hoodie pulled up. His eyes traced the shadowy outline of your face, and he realized he hadn’t seen it clearly. His expression shifted to one of concern, a frown creasing his brow.

“Why haven’t you taken your hood down?” he asked quietly, his voice low and probing.

You pursed your lips, trying to edge toward the exit. But before you could make a clean getaway, Damian’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and yanking you back into him. You collided with his chest, and for a second, it felt like you’d just hugged a brick wall in a hoodie.

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

“Uh, nowhere, apparently,” you sighed, realizing escape wasn’t in the cards today.

“Look. I just didn’t want to get my hair messed up,” you continued, trying to sound casual, but the words felt hollow in the small, enclosed space.

“Oh yeah…?” Damian murmured in disbelief, his voice thick with something darker. His eyes narrowed, and without warning, he bent down to your height, his rough fingers sliding up your jacket. You felt the fabric shift and the warmth of his hand against your side.

You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders. Your nails dug into the fabric of his uniform as you tried to push him back.

“Pull the hood off,” he demanded, his hands working insistently to tug it up. You sputtered out protests, swatting at his hands, but Damian was relentless. “Habibti, let me see! Pull it up—let me see!”

Your grip on the hood tightened, your knuckles going white as you held on for dear life. But Damian’s concern bulldozed through any resistance you put up. He mumbled curses, and suddenly shifted tactics. Bending down, his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. He pinned you against the wall, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as your weight pressed into his hips.

"Damian, stop!" you groaned, trying to push him away.

But he ignored your plea, yanking the hood off. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the full extent of your injuries. Cuts and bandages marred your face, some fresh, others scabbing over. Dark bruises colored your cheek, spreading out like ominous clouds.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, even though he was already cursing a certain spider vigilante in his head. Damian dipped his head low, his dangerous glare cutting through you. “Tell me who hurt you, and I’ll make them pay.”

“Baby, you’re being melodramatic. It’s just a few bruises,” you deflected, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll survive.”

“Plus, it’s not like you can just go around punching everyone who hurts me,” you huffed, wincing as you tried to pull your hood back up. Damian scowled and yanked it down again.

“Yes, I can.”

“Oh my god,” you said, raising an eyebrow and trying to stifle a smile. “I hate you so much.”

Damian tightened his hold, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Our relationship status says otherwise. And I’m not letting go until I get answers.”

You squirmed in his embrace, attempting to free yourself, but he held you tightly. “Seriously, let go.”

“No.”

“You’re going to miss your first period.”

“And?”

“Your education will be in ruins.”

“Beloved, my GPA is already at a 5.0. I’ve been at the top of my class since junior high. Missing one period won’t ruin my future.”

You groaned and grabbed the nearest object—a mop. Raising it in a mock-threatening manner, you declared, “I’m seriously considering hitting you with this until you let me go.”

Damian gave a flat “Tch,” raising a hand to the metal handle. With a casual squeeze, he bent the metal in half effortlessly. You blinked.

Okay, that's a little annoying, but also super, super, super hot.

“Seriously? You’re showing off now?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Showing off?” Damian arched an eyebrow. “I’m merely proving a point.”

“I can handle myself!” you insisted, frustration creeping into your voice.

“Clearly,” he shot back, eyes narrowing. “That’s why you’re covered in cuts and bruises.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, your irritation bubbling over.

“I would be delighted to,” Damian replied, his tone dripping with syrupy sweetness that was equal parts enticing and infuriating.

"Ugh!" you groaned, pulling the hood back over your face in a futile attempt to hide.

“Drop the theatrics and tell me what happened,” he sighed, tugging the hood back down. “I need to know so I can handle it.”

“I already handled it! I just need some rest, okay?” you retorted, rubbing a hand over your tired eyes. "I can fight my own battles, thank you very much."

Damian’s jaw tightened at your response, setting off alarm bells in his head. He’d need to dig deeper—because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that you weren’t giving him the full story.

"You're not telling me everything," he said firmly. "But I’ll find out. I always do."

“Uh-huh, sure," you said, rolling your eyes as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform and yanked him closer. “You’re such a control freak, you know that?”

Damian scowled, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “And you’re impossibly stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, you’re nosy.”

“Nosy?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. “I prefer the term thorough.”

“Right,” you said, barely holding back a laugh. You shook your head with a smile and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.”

Damian’s eyes softened as he closed the distance between you. You melted into him, pulling him into a tender kiss. Damian hummed softly, the vibration tickling your lips and adding a cozy warmth to the moment. He kissed you again, and again, each one a little more affectionate than the last. Your laughter bubbled up, breathy and light, as you both got caught in a playful rhythm. His nose nudged against yours, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

The sudden ringing of the school bell cut through the moment.

“Mmph!” You pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at your lips as you gently stroked his cheek. “You… probably should get to class.”

It took a few more (okay, a lot more) minutes before Damian finally let you go. You practically had to wrestle your way out of his arms, like he was a kid clinging to a favorite toy. When you told him to go back to class instead of tagging along with you and Morgan, he sulked like a toddler.

Despite his stormy mood, you managed to convince him to head back. As you both stepped out of the closet, Damian trudged away with a grumble, throwing one last dramatic look over his shoulder.

“Behave yourself,” you laughed, waving him away before setting off to find Morgan.

When you finally spotted her by the entrance, she was holding up a flash drive like it was the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, you looked like you’d just been through a whirlwind: your hair was a tousled mess, your jacket was askew, and your tie was twisted at an odd angle. 

“Got the goods?” you asked, breathless as you straightened your tie and smoothed down your messy hair.

“Yep,” Morgan said with a grin, her eyes darting to your state of disarray. “Damn. A janitor’s closet, huh? I see it got pretty heated in there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, scoffing and giving her a kick to the shin. “Nothing happened, you ass. We were just talking. I had to practically wrestle my way out because he was going nuts over my injuries.”

Morgan chuckled, tucking the flash drive into her pocket. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with him.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. "How did you know it was the janitor’s closet, anyway?"

“CCTV,” Morgan simply shrugged. “Was checking out the live feed for security. And I figured you two were up to something when I saw you both ducking out of the room. The system was laughably easy to hack into. I was honestly surprised.”

“You’re Tony Stark’s daughter,” you snarked. “Anything less than government-level encryption is basically child’s play for you.”

Morgan grinned. “True that. But there’s one tiny issue.” She raised a finger and twirled it in the air. “I might have tripped a few alarms.”

WEE-OWW-WEE-OWW!

The distant blare of sirens cut through the air, growing louder with each passing second. Red and blue lights began to flicker through the windows.

You stared at Morgan, incredulous. 

“What. What the fuck!? What did you do?”

“Let’s just say security’s gonna be a bit more interested in our location now. Oopsie!” Morgan’s grin widened. “I had to shut down some things to avoid detection. So, the power’s going to go out in 3…2…1.”

As she finished her countdown, the lights flickered erratically before plunging the hallway into complete darkness. A heartbeat later, the wail of the announcement system cut through the silence, urgently repeating, “Please evacuate the building. Please evacuate immediately.” The strobing red emergency lights cast frantic shadows, and chaos erupted as students screamed, darting from classrooms and colliding in the dark.

Morgan spread her arms wide, a triumphant grin plastered across her face as if she’d just dropped a mic. “Boom.”

“What the hell about this screams ‘stealth’ to you?” you whisper-shouted, grabbing Morgan’s hand and pulling her toward the exit.

Morgan’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she squeezed your hand in return. "It’s way more fun this way."

You both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing through the hallways and mingling with the blaring alarms.

Turning a corner, you nearly collided with a group of students stumbling through the chaos. Their faces were masks of panic. One of them tripped, sprawling onto the floor with an undignified thud.

“Watch it! Are you okay?” you shouted, skidding to a halt and kneeling to help the fallen student.

Morgan, unable to hold back, burst into laughter. “Dumbasses!”

You shot her a half-angry, half-exasperated look. “Just get us out of here before we get arrested for public disturbance!”

“Right behind you!” Morgan said, grabbing your hand again and pulling you both into a sprint. As you neared the exit, the muffled voices of security personnel grew louder, rushing to restore power. With one last burst of speed, you burst through the exit doors, the alarms fading into the distance.

Morgan looked over at you, her face glowing with sweat and a victorious grin. “And that’s how you make an exit.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday - The Safehouse, Gotham City.

After your adrenaline-pumping escape and a bumpy ride across the city in an Uber that looked like it had seen better days—note to self: next time, cab— you finally made it back to the safehouse.

Morgan was already at the main table, surrounded by a chaotic sea of files and documents spread out across multiple screens. Her eyes were locked onto the flash drive she’d pulled from the school, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sifted through the data.

A few steps away, you were hunched over a cluttered workbench in the tech area, surrounded by spools of web fluid and a mess of metal tools. The entire day had been spent tinkering, but finally, your whip project was coming together.

With a few final tweaks, you picked up the whip and gave it a few test swings. 

You couldn’t help but think back to when you were a kid, watching Selina work her whip with that effortless skill. You’d sit in the corner of the training room, eyes wide, totally mesmerized. She made it look so easy, so natural. Inspired, you’d sneak off to your room after her sessions, grabbing whatever you could find—a belt, a rope, anything that even remotely resembled a whip. You’d slam the door behind you and practice in secret.

Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror—awkward, stumbling, and kind of a hot mess—but you didn’t give a damn. You’d keep at it, again and again, dead set on matching her skill, even if it meant looking like a total idiot in the process.

CRACK!

Morgan jumped, her chair spinning around as she stared at you with wide eyes. You couldn't help but grin as you sauntered toward her, twirling the whip around your body. The webbing swirled through the air, curving gracefully around you in a move straight out of Catwoman's playbook. With a final flourish, you cracked it down onto the floor, the sharp snap echoing through the room.

Morgan’s ears flushed red, and she shifted in her chair, clearly taken aback. “Woah. That’s hot as fuck.”

You laughed, tossing her a wink. “Glad you think so. I was channeling my inner Catwoman.”

Still a bit flustered, Morgan cleared her throat and extended her hand. You placed the whip into her palm, and she inspected it closely, her fingers tracing the intricate details of your craftsmanship.

“Seriously, though,” she said, looking up at you, “Where’d you learn to handle a whip like that?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just a little bit of practice, you know? I’ve had some pretty good teachers.”

Your gaze then shifted to her screen, where a file on Ivy's toxins was open. Charts, chemical structures, and old lab notes cluttered the display.

“Thought you were going through Octavius’ files?” you asked.

“Oh, I was," Morgan handed the whip back to you with a shrug.

"But then I stumbled on this.” She pointed at the screen. “Insane, right? Did you know Gotham University lets their Botany majors examine Ivy’s toxins? There are detailed reports from student lab projects—college students analyzing some seriously dangerous stuff. Who thinks that's a good idea?”

You arched an eyebrow. “It’s Gotham University. Top in the country. They probably consider it a rite of passage. It’s not like the city holds back on the bizarre.”

Morgan shook her head, her disbelief morphing into a bemused smile. “Seriously, though, it’s even in their chemistry curriculum. ‘Advanced Chemistry: How to Survive Ivy’s Toxins 101.’ Like, what kind of class is that?”

You chuckled. “Sounds like standard Gotham fare. The city has a way of turning even the most mundane academic subjects into survival skills.”

As you stared at the file, your mind drifted to Ivy—Pamela Isley, who had once been a big part of your life. Back when she was close with Selina, you even used to call her Aunt Isley. It felt right at the time, natural, given how much she was around.

One memory stood out: Ivy had to leave town, and she’d entrusted Selina with her beloved plants. You were just a kid, but you remember how excited you were to have Ivy’s vibrant greenery filling the place. Selina had promised to take good care of them, but… she forgot. Just plain forgot to water them.

When Ivy returned, the plants were withered and dead. For someone like Ivy—an eco-terrorist with a green thumb so legendary she could probably make a cactus bloom in a snowstorm—this was more than just a mistake. It felt like a betrayal.

The fallout was brutal. Ivy was livid, and Selina was wrecked. If you hadn’t been there to calm things down, Ivy might’ve strangled Selina with a vine on the spot.

Morgan sighed dramatically, pushing her chair back from the screen and stretching like a cat. "I’m so over these files," she announced, spinning around to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We need to do something fun."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued as she started navigating through a map on her command center. "What are you up to?"

"Finding us a little adventure," she replied, her grin widening as she zoomed in on a spot on the outskirts of Gotham. "Look at this—an old, supposedly abandoned greenhouse. Rumor has it, it’s still full of Ivy’s plants. We should go check it out."

You blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "You want to go trespassing in an abandoned greenhouse filled with potentially dangerous plants?"

Morgan shrugged with a carefree grin. "Why not? It’s way more exciting than sitting here with these boring files. Besides, think of the intel we could gather! Maybe even some samples. If you're serious about this hero thing, having some cures on hand could be pretty useful."

You raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, my focus was on tech companies. Not plants."

Morgan leaned back in her chair, throwing her hands up. "C'mon, it’ll be fun! We could call it a ‘field trip’ for our mission."

You scoffed, but a smirk tugged at your lips as you grabbed your glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart and responsible one among the two of us?”

Morgan shot you a playful smile as she grabbed her jacket. “Smart enough to know when we need a break.”

She slung her jacket over her shoulder with a casual flick. “And who knows? We might stumble into something interesting or at least have a hell of a time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine, but if this turns into a mess, you’re the one explaining it to Tony.”

“Deal,” Morgan grinned, heading toward the door. “Now let’s get out of here before I lose my mind.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 12:34 AM - Ivy's 'Abandoned' Warehouse, Gotham City.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the overgrown landscape as you swung through the rainy Gotham air. Raindrops pattered against your suit, mixing with the cool breeze as you guided both yourself and Morgan down toward the warehouse’s perimeter. You landed softly on the other side of the fence, the wet ground beneath you squelching slightly.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, shrouded in shadows and engulfed by a thick veil of greenery. Vines and creeping plants had swallowed the building, twisting their way up the walls and breaking through the broken windows. Shrubs and wild foliage sprawled across the once-smooth concrete, creating a tangled jungle that had overtaken the area.

You and Morgan navigated through the thick underbrush, your footsteps muffled by the lush carpet of foliage. 

“Welcome to the jungle,” Morgan whispered, adjusting her glasses as raindrops collected on the lenses. She reached for a flashlight, flicking it on to cut through the gloomy darkness.

“Did you really have to pick the creepiest spot in Gotham?” you muttered, glancing around warily. Your spider senses buzzed faintly, a low hum that told you to stay alert, though you weren’t entirely sure what you should be on the lookout for.

As you approached the warehouse’s entrance, you noticed the heavy wooden doors were slightly ajar, propped open by a stubborn vine wedged in the gap. You took a few steps back, then charged at the door with all your might. It crashed inward with a resounding clang, sending splinters flying and the vine recoiling.

CLANG!

You kicked the door aside and stepped into a scene that looked like something straight out of a botanical horror movie. The interior of the warehouse was a riot of green. Hanging plants and tendrils formed a dense canopy overhead. The remnants of old plant pots and scientific equipment were half-buried under layers of creeping vines and moss.

“Keep your eyes peeled for anything useful,” you said, stepping inside.

The plan was simple: infiltrate the location, gather as much information as possible, and leave before anyone even noticed you were there.

Your boots squelched slightly on the damp ground as you made your way further into the labyrinth of greenery. Morgan followed close behind, her flashlight beam scanning the surroundings.

“Looks like she really made herself at home. Can’t believe she’d leave all these beauties behind,” she murmured.

After a few minutes of searching, you stumbled upon a makeshift lab tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. Old tables and shelves, now covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, held an assortment of glassware, old notebooks, and strange samples.

Morgan’s eyes lit up as she approached the lab. “This must be it! Look at all this stuff.”

Kneeling down, she began sifting through the clutter, her flashlight revealing dusty glassware, faded notebooks, and a variety of botanical samples in various states of preservation. She carefully picked up a few jars, examining the contents with growing fascination.

You stood guard by the door, senses on high alert. The slow hum of your spider senses gradually intensified, morphing into a persistent, almost blaring buzz in the back of your mind. It felt like a magnetic pull, drawing your focus to every flicker of shadow and rustle of the unseen. 

Morgan, oblivious to your heightened alertness, was engrossed in a particularly worn notebook.

"This is so fucking cool," she said, her eyes wide with excitement. "Check out these notes—they look like they’re from Ivy’s earlier research. She was experimenting with ways to boost plant growth, mixing toxins, and even concocting some kind of antidote."

As Morgan continued to study the notebook, the buzzing in your senses grew stronger. You tensed, feeling a prickling chill race up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There was something else in the warehouse—something you couldn’t immediately identify, but it was there.

“Morgan,” you said quietly. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”

Morgan looked up from her work, fingers curled around a test tube. “What do you mean?”

“Just keep your eyes open,” you warned, eyes narrowing as you scanned the shadows. “Start packing up and be quick. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Morgan’s fingers flew over the lab equipment as she grabbed several samples and shoved them into her bag. The air seemed to grow thicker, the plants rustling with an almost eerie liveliness.

!!!

“We need to go. Now!” you hissed, urgently grabbing Morgan and pulling her to her feet.

Morgan flinched but scrambled up, stuffing the worn notebook she’d found into her jacket. “Alright… let me just—”

Before she could finish, your spider senses exploded into a full-blown scream of warning.

DANGER.

“Get down!”

Without warning, you grabbed Morgan and pushed her down behind some crates, your suit beginning to uncloak.

A thick vine lashed out from the shadows, slamming into your side with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Pain exploded where the vine struck, radiating through your ribs as you skidded backward and crashed into a metal rack.

Your helmet hadn’t fully materialized in time, and the impact with the shelving unit sent a jarring shock through your skull, leaving you dazed and disoriented.

"A little spider has wandered into my web~"

Shit.

Warmth trickled down from your forehead where the impact had split the skin. With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself off the rack, using it for support as you steadied yourself.

"Hello, crazy plant lady," you quipped, your helmet materializing as the voice modulator kicked in.

You weren’t her estranged niece now; you were Nightcrawler, Gotham's latest hero.

From above, Ivy unfurled herself from the ceiling, smirking as she lounged on a sprawling leaf. Vines curled around her with languid grace, reacting to her slightest gesture as if extensions of her will.

"Ah, Gotham's newest little hero," Ivy's voice was a melodious yet chilling purr, her laughter echoing softly through the warehouse. "What brings you to my sanctuary?"

The slits in your mask narrowed as you drew your claws and unclipped your whip from your belt. Ivy’s eyes narrowed at the choice of weapons, a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She was clearly connecting the similarities between you and Catwoman.

"Oh, just swinging by to see what all the fuss is about. Heard you've been busy in Gotham."

Ivy's smile sharpened, a glint of admiration lighting up her emerald eyes.

"Hm. Spunk," she purred, hands moving to tangle in her hair. "I do appreciate that in my visitors."

Out of the corner of your visor, you spotted Morgan inching away. You gave her a discreet nod, signaling her to keep going while you kept your focus locked on Ivy.

"So, this place wasn’t as abandoned as I thought," you said, trying to keep Ivy talking and distracted. "For someone who supposedly retired from the spotlight, you sure know how to throw a party."

Ivy threw her head back and laughed. "Retired?" she repeated. "Oh, honey, you have no idea."

Around you, vines stirred, their sinewy tendrils snaking up your legs like snakes. Unfazed, you subtly shifted your weight, and then, with a swift slash of your claws, the vines split apart. You flipped away, slipping out of their grasp with ease.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice when my darlings are disturbed?” Ivy’s voice dripped with mockery. “Just when I finally manage to reclaim this space from concrete and steel, pests like you decide to get curious.”

“Look, I’ve got a busy schedule,” you quipped, narrowly dodging a lashing vine. “So how about we skip the tango and save us both a night of pain?”

“Oh, you’re simply delightful,” Ivy purred,sultry and chilling. “Very well, little spider. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

In a heartbeat, Ivy was in motion. Vines shot through the air like whips, each one aiming to entangle or strike. You sidestepped a thick vine that snapped past your ear and rolled under another that slammed into the floor where you’d just been. Your senses were on fire.

Beep!

In the corner of your visor, Morgan’s face flickered into view—a welcome sight amid the chaos. The camera feed was shaky, but you could make out her anxious expression as she huddled behind a stack of crates, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“Are you okay?” you hissed through the comms, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of vines around you.

“M Outside! Sorry! I…I didn’t realize Ivy was here!” Morgan said, her voice tinged with panic. “I thought this place was a total ghost town!”

“Apologize later!” you shouted back, ducking a swinging vine. “Just stay out of sight. I’ll catch up with you once I deal with the plant lady!”

With a quick flip, you barely managed to dodge another flurry of whipping vines. You drew back your whip and snapped it towards the incoming tendrils, slicing through them. 

Ivy scowled, her eyes narrowing as she watched her plants get cut down. She retaliated, sending a fresh wave of vines hurtling toward you.

You dodged and weaved, the thick, green tendrils brushing against your suit. Each crack of your whip was followed by a sharp hiss of defeated foliage.

You charged through, ducking and weaving to avoid the onslaught. When you were close enough, you landed a solid left hook to Ivy’s face, the impact echoing with a satisfying thud. Ivy’s head snapped back with a sharp yelp of pain. You laughed, not giving her a moment to regroup, and threw another punch straight to her jaw.

JAB!

“Had enough, or should I keep going?” you taunted.

Ivy’s eyes flared with rage. “You little—”

Leaping onto a stack of crates to dodge another lash from her vines, you shot a web at Ivy. The sticky strands wrapped around her wrists, pinning her securely against a nearby support beam.

Ivy struggled against the webbing, her vines twitched with agitation as they lashed out. You kept your whip and claws at the ready, prepared for any sudden moves.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Unless you want more of your precious plants turned into mulch, I suggest you calm down.”

“Calm down?” Ivy hissed, her frustration barely contained. “You’re the intruder here, desecrating my sanctuary. I won’t tolerate this!”

You took a deep breath, trying to defuse the situation. “Look, I’m really sorry about the intrusion. Didn’t mean to step on your botanical toes. We were just here to explore—”

“Explore?” Ivy’s brow shot up. “Is that why your friend took of my vials and papers?”

You stared at her, blinking a few times. Then, with a sheepish shrug, you said, “Okay, to be fair, you left that stuff lying around. It kind of looked like it was up for grabs. Plus, we didn’t exactly see a ‘Keep Out’ sign.”

“So, it’s a case of ‘finders keepers,’ then?” she scowled. “And here I thought you were a little more refined than that.”

“Hey!” you said, walking towards her until you were just a foot away. “I’m just calling it like I see it, lady. Maybe if you knew how to clean up, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ivy tossed her hair over her shoulder, the golden-orange strands cascading like vines down her back. She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your jaw, her breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.

“Well, if you’re so keen on exploring,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper, “I could show you something that’ll really satisfy your curiosity.”

!!!

Your spider senses flared with urgent warnings, but before you could react, Ivy thrust a slender vine beneath the edge of your helmet. In an instant, a cloud of pollen erupted inside your mask, catching you completely off guard. You gasped and choked, stumbling backward as your vision blurred and your nose was overwhelmed by the suffocating, heady scent of the pollen.

Your visor’s alarms blared, vitals flashing urgently:

TOXIN DETECTED.

“Damn it,” you grimaced as a searing heat began to radiate through your skin and bones. The prickling sensation quickly escalated into an intense burn, making it feel like your blood was boiling beneath your skin.

“Morgan!” you called out. “Find me an escape route, now!”

"Underestimated me?" Ivy cackled. "Thought you could resist my charms, did you?"

Morgan’s shaky voice crackled through the comms. “I’m searching for a way out! Just hang in there!”

“Oh, you won’t be escaping that easily,” Ivy sneered at you, still trapped in your webs. Despite her restraints, her vines writhed and twisted with a life of their own. “This is my domain, and you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You gritted your teeth, struggling against the searing pain as the vines inched closer. “Alright, I’m really sorry for this, but I’m done playing nice.”

With a sharp flick of your wrist, you shot a web at a vase perched precariously on a high shelf. The vase tumbled through the air and crashed down onto Ivy’s head, shattering into a shower of shards and a splash of crimson.

Ivy screamed as the shards rained down, a flurry of leaves and flowers cascading over her head and shoulders, momentarily obscuring her vision. 

Morgan's face reappeared on your visor, her brow furrowed with worry. “There’s a clear window—no vines blocking it! Hurry! I marked it on your map!”

Glancing at the map in your visor, you spotted the indicated window. 

"This was nice, but I’ve got places to be and people to save," you heaved, your voice breathy as you kicked away a lashing vine. "So if you don’t mind, I'll be taking my leave."

THWIP.

Launching yourself through the open window, you felt the cool, rain-soaked Gotham air slap your face as you soared into the night. The roar of the storm and the distant hum of the city below filled your senses. Behind you, Ivy’s furious shouts pierced through the downpour, her curses mingling with the crack of thrashing vines slamming against the walls.

“PEST!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 1:05 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.

"Robin, status?" Oracle's voice beeped in from Damian's earpiece.

Damian was perched on a rooftop, jade eyes scanning the dark expanse of Crime Alley below. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, the cold droplets cascading off the edges of his hood and dripping onto his shoulders.

From his vantage point, he could see the dilapidated buildings lining Crime Alley, their broken windows and graffiti-covered walls illuminated by the sporadic flashes of lightning. The streets below were deserted, the few brave souls out in the storm moving quickly, their faces obscured by umbrellas and hoods. Puddles formed in the uneven pavement, reflecting the occasional flicker of streetlights.

He lifted a gloved hand to his communication device, the wet leather squeaking slightly against the earpiece.

"I'm in my usual position," he reported, his voice steady. "No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'," Damian scoffed as he kept his eyes trained on the rain-soaked expanse below.

"Demon brat's got a point," Jason drawled, the sound of him slurping a drink faintly audible over the comms. "Harley still calls you Duck-Boy."

"Just focus on the job," Nightwing interjected, his voice slicing through the bickering with an authoritative edge. "Tonight’s a washout. Red Robin and I are on patrol near the docks. We’ve encountered a few low-level crooks, but nothing major."

"Alright," Oracle’s voice came through again. "Stay on high alert. Let me know if anything changes."

As the comms went silent, Damian pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up against the storm's backdrop. For a fleeting moment, his stoic expression softened. A nearly imperceptible smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at the lock screen—a picture of you, warm and content in one of his shirts, your face framed by tousled hair and a genuine smile.

He noted the time—1:05 AM. Given your unpredictable sleep patterns, you were likely still awake. Damian's finger hovered over the screen, caught between sending a quick message or making a call. But before he could decide, a sharp gust of wind swept across the rooftop, making his cape snap and sending a chill through his soaked uniform.

He slipped the phone back into his belt, shook off the cold, and refocused on the scene below. His eyes scanned the shadowy expanse: dark alleys, rain-slicked roads, and flickering, rusting shop signs.

Then, a sudden, unexpected movement shattered the monotony. A flash of red and white streaked across the skyline, its vibrant colors stark against the darkened sky. A web shot out, glinting briefly in the intermittent lightning before anchoring itself to a nearby building.

THWIP.

There was a pause.

Damian’s lips curled into a sharp snarl. His fingers tightened around the grip of his grappling gun, his mind shifting into high gear. With a scowl, he tapped his earpiece.

“Oracle,” Damian began, boots crunching as he moved to the edge of the rooftop. “I have visual on the spider vigilante. Engaging in pursuit.”

Without waiting for a reply, he fired the grappling gun. The line shot through the air with a metallic twang, slicing through the rain-soaked night. He felt the jolt as the grappling hook latched onto a distant anchor, pulling him forward.

As he swung through the storm, a fierce thrill coursed through him, like a bird unleashed with new wings. With the city sprawled out beneath him and the rain pelting against his face, Robin was ready to do what he did best.

Hunt.

 ༻⊰───⋅

"It's going to take hours to get this smell out of my suit," you heaved, wrinkling your nose as you fired a web into the distant skyline. The line stuck firmly to a building, and with a jarring lurch, you swung deeper into the city.

Morgan clung to you for dear life, her voice barely audible over the rush of air. “Not the time to worry about laundry! Focus on not crashing into something! And maybe on not dying from the poison?!”

"Hey, I’m just saying," you shot back with a strained chuckle, “if I survive this, I’m gonna need to have this suit professionally cleaned.”

Morgan’s grip tightened, and she shouted, “Survive first, clean later!"

With a yank of your web, you aimed for the next rooftop, but as you hurtled through the air, you realized that you’d miscalculated the distance. The rooftop was rushing in too fast, and panic surged through you like ice.

Your stomach lurched, and in a split-second decision, you threw Morgan forward, trying to cushion her fall. She landed with a thud, a breathless gasp escaping her as she hit the roof.

You, however, weren’t so fortunate. Your foot snagged the edge of the roof awkwardly, sending a sharp pain shooting up your leg.

CRACK.

The sickening crack of bone snapping echoed through the air as your ankle twisted violently. The force of the impact jolted your entire body, sending you sprawling onto the rough, gravelly rooftop.

“Great…” you muttered through gritted teeth, struggling to push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Your body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, the toxin’s effects amplifying the pain with each passing second.

You bit down hard on your tongue, the metallic taste of blood bubbling into your mouth. You fought to keep yourself upright, but your legs felt like lead, and you crumpled onto the rooftop, unable to fully bear your weight.

“Shit!” Morgan scrambled to her feet, her face a mask of panic and concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”

"Just… a little off target," you panted, wincing as you assessed the damage. Your visor had taken a hit during the fall, causing the data to flicker erratically. Through the static, you could still make out the crucial info: a broken bone.

“It's fine… Just a broken ankle,” you added, trying to maintain your composure despite the sluggishness creeping into your movements. 

“You’re getting brain fog and dizziness,” Morgan said urgently, her fingers flipping through the notebook she’d snatched earlier. “It’s a side effect of the toxin. We need to get you to the safehouse—”

Before she could finish, you shook your head with a groan. “No. You call a cab and head there. I’ll swing.”

“Are you insane?!” Morgan nearly shouted, grabbing your arm in panic. “You can barely stand, let alone swing through the city! We need to get you help, now!”

You pushed her away, trying to ignore the throbbing in your ankle. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. The suit’s tampered, I think. Look.”

You attempted to uncloack, but the metal sputtered and glitched erratically. “See? I can’t uncloack. If you’re seen with me, they’ll find us out in no time. I can’t risk that.”

Morgan’s eyes darted between you and the malfunctioning suit, her face a mix of worry and frustration. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Stop,” you cut her off, wincing as the pain intensified. “It’s not your fault. Just get to the safehouse. I’ll manage.”

Tears of frustration welled up in Morgan’s eyes. “I can’t just leave you like this!”

“You don’t have a choice,” you said firmly, trying to steady your voice. “If we’re both caught, it’ll be worse. Now go! I’ll be fine.”

With one last, apologetic glance, Morgan pulled out her phone and dialed for a cab, her hands trembling.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Damian, concealed in the shadows of the rooftop, landed with a muted thud. He crouched behind the crumbling ledge of an old brick wall, the slits in his mask narrowing as he took in the scene unfolding just a few feet away.

He watched as you struggled to regain your footing, your movements pained and uneven. The girl beside you—her rain-soaked silhouette a blur against the storm—was clearly in a panic, her phone clutched tightly as she fumbled with it.

‘A civilian,’ Damian thought, frustration lining his features. Launching a direct attack now would be reckless. He had to be certain the vigilante was genuinely on their own before making a move.

After a tense moment, the girl finally moved and dashed down the fire escape, her figure barely visible through the downpour. Damian squinted through the sheets of rain, straining to catch a glimpse of her features, but the storm blurred his view into an indistinct smear of color and motion.

The moment she was out of sight, his attention snapped back to you. You took a deep, ragged breath, bracing yourself. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you launched yourself into the night. 

Damian followed, his movements fluid and precise as he pushed off from the ledge. His cape billowed behind him like a dark, flowing banner, and he darted into the storm. 

Below, the streets were a chaotic blur of honking horns and glaring headlights, their harsh lights slicing through the darkness like knives. Heavy sheets of rain hammered down, obscuring your vision and drenching you to the bone. Water seeped through the cracks in your suit, each drop feeling like an icy needle against your overheated, feverish skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was too much. The pain, the heat, the storm—it was all too much.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale bringing more of Ivy’s insidious toxin into your lungs.

In one desperate swing, you miscalculated the web’s trajectory. It shot out too low, sending you plummeting uncontrollably below.

Cursing through gritted teeth, you were hurled down into traffic. Everything was a blur as you slammed into the side of a car, metal denting and screams deafening your ears. Your shoulder bore the brunt of the collision, sending shockwaves of pain through your bones.

For a brief, suspended moment, everything went dark.

A cold, mechanical voice sliced through the void, its tone harsh and insistent. Maggie’s synthetic voice, though devoid of human warmth, was tinged with urgency.

“Immediate response required. Vitals are critically low. Consciousness levels decreasing. Current status is life-threatening. Please respond.”

Abruptly, your senses snapped back into sharp focus. You jolted awake with a ragged gasp, your breath coming in frantic bursts. Your vision was a fractured mosaic of blinding lights and shadowy figures. The sounds of blaring horns and panicked shouts crashed back into your ears, tires screeching all around you.

Morgan’s voice crackled through the static, panic evident in her tone. “I’m at the safehouse! Where are you? I couldn't reach you! What’s going on?”

“Change of plans,” you managed, your voice strained. “I won’t make it to the safehouse in time.”

You tapped the side of your visor, making a map flicker to life through the cracks and glitches. The display was unstable, but it highlighted a route to your apartment.

“You know where my mom's apartment is, right?” you heaved. “That’s where I’m heading.”

Entering your apartment was risky, but with your condition worsening and death looming, it was the closest refuge you could manage.

Damian, hidden in the alleyway, watched you with a furrowed brow. What he initially wrote off as rookie mistakes now seemed out of character. Your disoriented movements were starkly different from the precise maneuvers he had seen in news footage and CCTV feeds. He had been tracking your case closely, and this chaos didn't match the profile he had built.

He watched as you struggled to stand, your legs shaking with each attempt. The driver's shouts were drowned out by the storm of noise around you. Your strained apologies were barely audible. Desperation marked your actions as you fired another web, using it to pull yourself up and away from the wrecked car and the angry crowd.

Damian cursed under his breath and quickly took off after you. 

He tracked your erratic path through twisted, narrow streets until he saw you aim for an apartment building. With a quick stretch of your arm, you shot a web toward a balcony, but your aim was off again.

Another sloppily thrown web sent you slamming into the windows of the apartment. The metal edge dug into your ribs with brutal force, knocking the wind out of you. You gasped, your lungs burning as you struggled to draw in air. Pain radiated from your side, and shards of glass sprayed everywhere.

Damian, perched on the rooftop across the street, stared in disbelief. This was Catwoman’s apartment—Selina Kyle’s. The worst possible scenario unfolded in his mind. To him, it looked like a break-in. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers gripped the edge of his grappling gun, knuckles whitening with the force of his anger.

Pest.

Without hesitation, Damian leapt into action. He aimed for the fire escape with single-minded intensity, propelling himself toward it with a powerful thrust. His boots hammered against the metal steps, causing them to buckle and the entire structure to groan and rattle under the force of his descent. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw your figure slip into the window.

Tunnel-visioned and driven by a surge of protectiveness, Damian kicked the door to the fire escape open, the metal panel scraping roughly across the floor. His father would have his head for causing unnecessary public damage—something Robin was frequently under fire for—but at that moment, he couldn't have cared less.

"Was that a crash?!" Nightwing's voice crackled through the comm line.

"I think it's coming from demon brat's side. What's the report, squirt?"

Damian merely growled in response as he began to stalk down the hallway. His tall figure, cloaked in shadows, cast long, dark lines across the floor as he moved. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and menacing over the comms.

"Someone's about to learn the price of crossing me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Dazed and disoriented, you slipped into the building, the rough edge of the window scraping against your battered body. As you tumbled through your apartment, you hit the floor with a heavy thud, the impact shaking your entire frame. Your head struck the ground with a thump, stars exploding in your vision.

For a brief, haunting moment, there was silence—deep, oppressive silence. Then, a cold, creeping dread slithered through you.

You clawed at the floor, your body shaking.

"Mom? Mom, please! I need you!" Your voice cracked, a raw, fear seeping through every syllable. "Mom, are you there? Please, help me!"

Tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat and blood as you cried out into the empty, echoing apartment. The lights were off, casting the space into a suffocating darkness that seemed to press in on you.

Desperately, you stumbled into Selina’s bedroom. Your heart sank as you noticed the absence of her suit—no sleek, black leather or whip. She must have been out on patrol.

A deafening crash shattered the silence as the apartment door was ripped from its hinges. Before you could fully react, a rough hand clamped down on you, throwing you to the floor.

Your vision blurred in and out of focus as you were pinned to the floor. A heavy foot pressed mercilessly against your chest, crushing your ribs with every breath. The weight lifted, then slammed down again, ripping through your suit with a sickening crunch. The suit uncloaked, its torn pieces clinging to your clothes, leaving you exposed in just your undershirt and pants.

Through the dim, flickering light, the outline of your attacker became clearer. A katana was unsheathed with a chilling rasp, its cold blade pressed menacingly against your neck. The steel gleamed ominously, catching the sparse light and reflecting a deadly shimmer. The edge was so close you could feel its icy touch, a mere breath away from slicing into your flesh.

The thought of that forced you to tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to the shadowy figure looming over you.

Tall and imposing, the figure was clad in grey and black armor, with a black cape flowing behind them. A red emblem, unmistakably the symbol of an R, was stitched onto their chest.

A cold realization cut through the fog of pain and fear—Robin?

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dundunDUN

whatchu think bookiebears

surely the batfam will handle this well