#so like everything’s ‘fine’ a stalemate really and it’s all good if I don’t think about it too hard and it’s whatever sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luimagines · 3 years ago

Note

I’m wondering how the boys would deal with you getting sick/wounded?

Masterlist

A lot of protectiveness that's for sure! Mixed in with some self doubt and anxiety! But lots of care and gentleness just for you!

Since there isn't a specification, I'll try to write platonically but I'm still on a crush roll so if feels come out or are implied, then I'll take full blame and pass it on to the previous prompt.

I’m gonna try something with this prompt and only write three guys per part. The other parts will be out shortly with the others but I don’t want to only post like once every other week even if I’m trying to write everyday because they’re so many of them. I do want to write them all! But it does take awhile.

SO! If I like this system I’ll keep it but it’s a trial run.

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, PART 1

Scenario under the cut!

Sky

Sky was running through the forest, slashing down all the monsters that were within his reach.

You, Wild and Twilight on top of Epona ran past him, chasing the black lizalfos that caused this whole mess. He stayed back, knowing that speed wasn't his strong suit. Between all the skeletons, lizards and all the keese that started showing up in the mean time, he was sure that he was more needed here to keep the monsters from reaching you.

He kept his focus on the fight and moved with practiced motions.

Monster began falling under his blade, left and right, front and back. He was no longer paying attention to where his teammates are. Just the motion and and the thrill of the fight to guide him, all other senses forgotten, he missed your cry.

He didn't know you turned back.

He didn't know you came to fight next to him.

He didn't see the monster coming up behind him-

"SKY!" He was suddenly pushed to the side, the ground coming up to meet him with dirt shooting all over his face.

He hears you cry again but in pain, and once again when he hears you hit the ground.

Sky gets to his feet as fast as he can and spins around.

There you are, on the ground, hand clenched around a growing red blotch on your other arm. You're glaring up at the skeleton that came from behind. Your sword is on the opposite side to you, but it doesn't matter much if your dominant arm is out of commission.

The skeleton shakes, as if in laughter even if no sounds comes forth from the monster. Sky sees that the skeleton no longer has its attention on him but on you. It raises its arm, sword raised and sharp and begin to bring it in your direction.

Sky grits his teeth and swings his sword.

Metal clangs against metal and Sky is surprised to see the amount of force that was behind the initial blow. It nearly sends him back to the ground but he merely slides a few inches backwards instead.

He chances a glance down at you and knows that you won't be able to fight beyond what already transpired.

The battle around him lessens somewhat, the sounds dimming until he only hears the blood pumping in his ears.

He's tired.

But Sky was never one to be a quitter. With one final push, he puts al of his weight into his next strike and knocks the skeleton away from their stalemate. While it's struggling to gain its balance, he slices upwards and cuts the entire thing in half.

He takes a step back and glances around the battlefield.

The others are making quick work of the monsters still standing. He trusts them to finish the job so he turns on his heel and kneels beside you.

"Let me see." Sky pulls your hand away from the wound. It goes down your bicep and across your elbow. He can't tell how deep it is, but it's long and bleeding.

"I'll be alright." You try to smile and get up. Sky doesn't let you. "Better me than you anyway."

"Not true." He glares at you. Sky is quick to take out his supplies and bandages and begin to work on your arm. He feels angry even after the monster has been dealt with. You shouldn't have gotten hit. You shouldn't have gotten hit on his account, he amends in his head. "It'll never be true."

"I've had worse." You shrug and hiss when he takes out his personal disinfectant and applies it to your wound. He's running low, but it's the best he can do since he's not the one carrying the healing potions and he can't do what Hyrule does, period.

He doesn't feel good about your answer and by the look on your face, he knows that you know it too.

"Why did you do that?" Sky asks after a moment of silence. He refuses to look at you head on. He knows he's still glaring and he doesn't want to aim it in your direction. He's too tired to try and hide it like he usually would with any other person. You'll just have to put up with it.

"You were gonna get hit." You reply, watching him work. "What was I supposed to do? Just let that happen?"

"You didn't have to take the hit for me. Yelling would have been fine. Let me know that it was there so I could deal with it." He growls.

"I tried." You stress and nearly pull your arm back when he puts a little more pressure on the cut than necessary. He keeps you close though so it's not like you succeed. "I yelled your name like three times. It's not like I wanted to push you face first into the dirt. If I let that thing hit you, you would have been given a way worse hit than this stupid cut on my arm."

Sky flexes his jaw and begins wrapping said stupid cut. He's inclined to believe you and he's sure that you're right. But....

He's allowed to not like it.

"Can you stand?" He asks, letting some of the anger fall from his face. Sky makes a quick evaluation over himself and realizes that he's relatively unharmed. A bit bruised, sure, but nothing worse than that. Certainly no blood drawn on his end.

You nod, grab your sword with your good hand and begin to get up. Out of habit, you instinctually put your wounded hand behind you to stabilize yourself and fall back down in pain.

Sky makes the executive decision to pick you up bridal style and carry you back to the others.

"SKY!" You cry and thrash around. "My injury is on my arm! I can stand just fine!"

He takes one good look at you then and shrugs. "You couldn't even get up. I don't mind."

"It's not about if you mind or not!" You continue. "It's the principle of the thing!"

He doesn't reply. Sky just looks away with a smirk, under the guise of looking for the rest of the group.

You catch on and stutter out some kind of argument but he tunes it out.

He sees Wild and Twilight back, angry and lizardless.

It's fine, he thinks. Because you're all together again and getting closer to figuring this whole thing out while putting a stop to it.

You begin to beg to be let down, unless the others make some kind of comment about it. But Sky feels the little voice inside of him to let it happen anyway.

Pay back for taking his hit.

Better you than him, HA! Not if he has anything to say about it.

Wild

Wild was on a roll!

After a successful dungeon raid (he's getting better that those), a great meal enjoyed by the whole team and no lecture about ditching the group, he on a golden streak! Nothing can get him down!

He continues to have a large grin on his face even after everyone has eaten and begins to settle down for the night. Everyone seems to be in good spirits.... except for you.

After you ate, you tried to keep up with everyone's good fortune and attitude but something felt wrong, you said you didn't feel good so you called it a night early, seemingly forgetting that it was your turn to take first watch.

Wild doesn't think much of it at first and continues with his nightly routine.

It's really only when it's right before he plans on going to bed that he notices something. The others that are still awake are quick to notice it as well and each of them share concerned glances.

You began to curl into yourself as you slept. Nothing weird about that, right? Maybe you were just cold but then... You started to whimper and grunt, like you were scared and in pain. A cough here and then but it doesn't spark any idea of what might be bothering you.

Twilight is the first to get up and make his way toward you but you wake up first, shooting to your feet with a frightening speed and all but stumble and crawl away from the camp.

Wild stands at nearly the same speed and begins to make his way towards you as well.

You don't get very far until you start coughing even more. It's a deep and wet cough that leaves you gasping for air but it continues on.

Then you vomit.

Wild sprint towards you then and helps hold whatever hair he can get to back and away from your face. Twilight is right next to him suddenly and he's rubbing circles on your back while you cry and continue to retch.

A few minutes pass but they feel like an eternity to Wild. He looks over to Twilight and grimaces. "Was it something they ate?"

Because if it was then this is on him. And he doesn't like the thought of causing you any sort of discomfort. Let alone getting you sick.

Twilight only shrugs and helps you stand straighter when you're done throwing up everything that you had eaten the day prior.

You're crying, whimpering and hugging yourself but Wild doubts that you're really aware of what's happening.

He places a hand on your forehead and gasps in shock.

You are absolutely burning up.

"You're sick." His eyebrows furrow and he begins to hold you steady when Twilight leaves you to him.

"...I don't feel good." You reply, but you haven't looked at him. You're eyes are still half lidded and it leads him to believe that you're still somewhat asleep.

"Ok. We'll help you, ok?" He says as he begins to lead you back to your bed roll.

" 'm cold." You say as you move back to where you were sleeping before. "An' everythin' hurts."

"I know. We'll make it better, I promise."

Twilight appears out of nowhere with his wolf pelt and places it over you, helping Wild get you back into your spot and tucks you in.

"Guess we'll stay here tomorrow as well." Twilight mutters. "No use pushing them any further, not like this."

"How long-?" Wild begins to ask but he doesn't know if that's even a question that can be answered. He tries anyway. "How long have they been sick?"

"They were a little weird yesterday..." Twilight admits. "But I didn't think much about it."

"What? Why?" Wild turns to his friend, brother, mentor. "Why not call them out on it? If they're sick-"

"I wasn't sure if I was just seeing things. We're all a little weird from time to time. I can smell a lot but this is always a toss up." Twilight glares a little as he defends himself.

"What do we do then?"

"We do what we can." Time answers from beyond the fire pit. "Some of us can make a supply run to the nearby town we were going to stop at. Get something to help that fever and maybe some tea to help that cough. Being at the town would be the better solution, seeing as the outdoors are not exactly illness friendly but the terrain isn't worth hauling them over. It might even do more damage."

Twilight nods in agreement and stands. "I can take a few of the boys and make a supply run. Get some more things that we might being running low on."

"Got any ideas of who to take?"

"Warrior, Legend and Four. They know the best way around merchants and quality buys. I say they're our best bet for the good stuff."

"I'll pay." Wild pipes up, reaching just beyond your bed roll into his for his sheikah slate.

"Cub, that's not necessary-"

"I'm paying." He growls and takes out a good amount of yellow rupees. "They need medicine. Medicine that we don't have and we can't afford their fever to get any worse."

He all but shoves the cash into Twi's arms and leaves it at that.

Time and Twilight share a look but neither comment on the aggressiveness of it.

There's not a lot of words to be spoken after that. Time takes the first watch and Twilight goes to sleep with a call to wake him up if anything happens. To you or to the group, Wild doesn't know. Knowing Twilight, maybe he means both.

Wild has trouble sleeping and has trouble forcing himself to leave your side.

After much deliberation, a long study of your pained face even as you sleep, he gets up and fixes the fire.

Time simply watches and lets him mess around as he pleases, so long as he's quiet.

Wild doesn't pay attention to him and gets his slate out for the ingredients he's looking for.

He starts by making tea. Honey, lemon bark, ginger, all for the your cough but he hopes that it'll help your fever as well.

When the tea sits and begins to steep, he takes out more cooking supplies and begins to cook more meals for you. All light and mostly fluid. It's a lot of soup.

He can't bring himself to sleep when you might need someone by your side again.

They were lucky the first time that some of them were still awake.

The shifts changes out without his notice. Wild is too busy filling up the inventory that he has with meals that are intended to help you fight this infection.

Day light comes and those who missed it learn of the prior nights events, the plan and get ready to carry it out.

Wild makes a belated breakfast when he realizes that most of the group is awake.

They're all staring at him but he shakes it off.

His highest priority right now is helping you come out of this stronger than before.

He's your personal nurse for the day and until you get better.

The others don't try to fight him on this. They couldn’t even if they tried.

Legend

Legend takes a minute to pause from firing his magic rod. The magic in it leaves him feeling a little drained from the amount of shots he’s been taking but the monsters are thinning out, so he continues plowing forward.

He leaves a particularly nasty looking thing, from an era he doesn’t recognize, as a pile of sloppy purple gluck on the ground.

When he looks up, his heart stops in his throat.

You’re right in front of him, fighting one of the biggest moblins on the scene, alone.

You’re trying to keep yourself on your feet and do some damage to the beast in the process but the blood comes back black, staining your sword and ground around you.

You’re fighting a losing battle.

He makes a run for it and fires what he can at the monster’s back until he’s completely tapped out of his magic.

He switches for his sword and activates his Pegasus Boots, charging directly into the monster’s side, plunging the blade deep within the creature up to the hilt.

“Hey Legend. Fancy meeting you here.” You grit out and slash what you can at the beast.

“Sorry, I should have told you I’m known for being fashionably late.” He fires back and attempts to take back his weapon.

His sword gets stuck on something within the monster and he’s forced to leave it in. The moblin has since been made aware of arriving company and takes a swing that would have taken Legend’s head off. He’s quick to duck under it and he calls out to the others for back up. “THIS ONE’S INFECTED! A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE NICE!”

“What a concept.” You gasp, out of breath and losing steam. “Back up would have been great like five minutes ago.”

“Well I’m here now, aren’t I?” Legend knows he’s quick on his feet and dances around the monster and to your side.

But it’s a miscalculation.

The moblins takes another swing at Legend in the process but since he doesn’t hit his target, his arm arcs outwards and knocks you finally off of your feet and sends you flying across the field with a sickening crack.

Legend stops for a second in shock and stares at where you landed.

You’re not getting up.

Now Legend is the one fighting this thing alone, with his sword still in the side of the monster, back up still not arriving yet and worse yet, the group is now down a number.

He doesn’t have time to reflect how it might be his fault that you’re down.

He hopes you’re not out and that the others comes quickly.

There’s a shot that takes the moblin by surprise when it’s imbedded in his head. Legend can’t risk taking glances around anymore but the quick succession of the blows let him know that Wild has appeared from out of the wood work and has joined him in taking this thing out.

Legend makes around circle around it and reaches for the hilt of his sword. IT”s wet and covered in its blood but he manages to get a grip on it.

He pulls.

He knows that it would have taken a lot to take it out but the blood around it seems to have lubricated the wound and it begins to slide out. As it inches out, Legend has to take another dive out of the way since the moblin swings back his way.

The sword is no longer plugging most of the wound, so it’s more like a fountain of ink that beginning to paint the forest floor.

Legend suspects that he hit something vital and that the blow would be final if he can get the rest of his sword out.

Luckily, despite the lack of communication, Wild and Legend seem to reach a consensus. Wild distracts the moblin for a while and Legend goes for his sword and takes out as much as he can before the moblin takes his aggression out on him.

Somewhere in the middle of this Warrior has also appeared and begins to add to the distraction while using Legend’s fire rod. This allows Legend to get more time out of the small windows that his team is buying them but the progress if slower than he likes.

The blood on his hands makes it harder for him to get a grip on his sword and his boots are having a hard time gaining purchase on the ground as it turns to bloodied mud.

Legend makes another dive out of the way and glances over to where you are.

You’re still not moving and no one has reached you yet.

Concern fuels him forward and he makes one last attempt to pull the sword free while the other damage it as much as they can.

It releases.

Legend goes flying backward and onto the ground, making quick work of getting back to his feet and attacking the beast.

The blood around his hands and sword are beginning to dry, almost gluing them together this time as he fights and he fights.

Somewhere along the lines of this, the news of an infected monsters reaching the others, Legend assumes, and one by one the others clamor up to the monster and begin to strike it down.

Now with all of them here, Legend takes a step back and steps out of the fray, leaving the killing blow to be dealt by the majority of the group.

Instead, he runs to your side.

Legend drops to his knees by your side and drop his sword somewhere behind him. He’s quick to take out his bag and rummage through it. He takes out a potion just you groan and roll over.

Legend lets out a sigh of relief, and a curse.

The moblin dies somewhere behind him.

“Legend...” You cry out. “Are you dead?”

He has to keep himself from snorting in disbelief. “Of course I’m not dead! It takes a lot more than that to kill me you know.”

His hands are shaking but your eyes are closed so he doesn’t make a show of trying to hide it. Your hands are over where your ribs are, a bit of red seeping through your fingers, but it doesn’t look major considering the amount of time that’s passed.

The potion will take of it.

“Were you not hit? You’re ok?” You ask in delirium, using all the strength you have left to sit up. Legend is quick to help you and places the potion in your lap with the cork off.

“No, it was really just you that took the hit.” Legend sits back and watches you drink it, slowly and robotically. He takes a minute to look over the rest of you and realizes that you don’t actually have a lot of injuries.

Just a few large hits.

“Oh my god, what happened to you?” You blurt, eyes wide and potion half drunk, threatening to spill over the lip of it with how you’re holding it. “Are you sure you weren’t hit?”

Legend tilts his head and looks down.

He’s absolutely disgusting.

He knows it shows on his face the minute he sees it but he forces himself not to think about it and instead, looks back at you.

“Believe it or not, none of it is mine.”

You stare for a moment or two longer before slowly returning to drink the potion you were given. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

The comment send even more relief through his system, shutting down the last of his adrenaline and he has to laugh.

Legend has no idea what conclusion you came to but considering the amount of shock and awe on your face by the sight of him, he doesn’t plan on correcting you any time soon.

Part 2 Part 3

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #I headcanon that Wild is a stress cooker #he does it for fun #but when he's stressed #he'll use all the ingredients in his slate and just keeping making meals #i bet he'd be a stress baker as well if he had an oven #Legend's always get so long!!!#I guess he's just easy for me to write #i cut it down to three and the whole post is still ridiculously long #I think I like this splitting it up idea #but I don't know in what order they should be written in #or if that even matters #let me know what you guys think!#feed back always welcome!#even if you hate it

303 notes · View notes

biceraswitch · 4 years ago

Text

What Brats Deserve

Pairing: daddy!Steve x brat!reader

Summary: Steve knows just how to punish you when you are acting like a brat.

Warnings: smut, spanking, crying, dom/sub, daddy kink, fingering, oral (female receiving)

Words: 2k

A/N: Honestly just been craving a good spanking lately and this is what happened...

~~~~~~~~~~~

He had been at work all day, busy planning everything for next week's mission and you had been stuck at home missing him. He had promised he would have extra days off this week to make up for the time he was going to be away. However, nothing had run to schedule and now he was needing to go in to work everyday, much to your annoyance. Although you understood why he needed to go to work you weren’t happy about it.

Today had been particularly bad, you had woken up to him already gone. At midday Steve had rang to check on you and let you know he would probably be late home. You didn’t take the news well and you *may* have sworn at him a few times, feeling angry that you had barely seen him all week. You hung up on him in the middle of him apologising and had refused to answer any of his calls or texts for the rest of the day. So now you found yourself standing in your room, dressed only in a pair of your panties and a t-shirt, with a very grumpy Steve sat on the bed across from you.

“We’ve talked about this before babygirl. You can’t just ignore me when you are annoyed or angry, you have to talk to me”

You glared at Steve and refused to talk. He was the one in the wrong here - he was the one who promised to be at home and then went to work.

“If you keep ignoring me then I’ll have to punish you. You know the rules princess”

“No that’s stupid Daddy” you whined before a pout settled on your face.

His eyebrows raised and he tilted his head “Oh so that’s how you want to play it tonight huh? Gonna be a fucking brat?”

“No"

“Get your ass over here right now” he growled patting his knee. You shook your head.

“No”

“The longer you make me wait babygirl the longer your ass will be hurting”

Stubbornly refusing to budge you stared him down, narrowing your eyes.

“No”

He stared back with as much determination as you. Neither side wanted to forfeit, you were at a stalemate.

“If you're not over my knee by the time I count to three that pussy is gonna be getting spanked instead. One…., Two….”

You had been so determined to win tonight but the thought of Steve treating your pussy to one of his spankings was too much. Your legs almost gave out as you crossed the short distance to Steve.

“Thr-”

You cut Steve off as you hurriedly bent over his lap, toes barely touching the floor as you reached your body over Steve's legs.

“That was close, babygirl. Thought I was finally going to get the chance to properly punish that sweet little cunt of yours.” He reached between your legs to cup your pussy. His fingers skillfully found your clit, rubbing small circles that sent waves of pleasure through your core.

You mewled softly “please daddy”.

“Does that feel good huh?”

“Yes daddy, so good” you wiggled your hips, attempting to grind down harder on his hand.

He chuckled softly before pulling your panties down your legs.Sinking two fingers into your core he began slowly massaging your inner walls. You felt yourself growing warm, the burn of your arousal growing greater by the second as Steves fingers worked into your heat.

“So fucking wet,... too bad that you’ve been a brat”

Suddenly you were being lifted further over his lap by the fingers still buried deep in your pussy. Your arms flew out, trying to catch yourself as your ass was lifted higher and your torso slid further off his lap. Steve shifted you so you rested on one thigh, his other leg coming in to lock over yours, trapping you tightly between his muscular thighs. You reached down, pushing off the floor as you tried to lift yourself back up but it was useless. The angle you were at made it impossible to lift your body up and with your legs trapped tightly you could barely move your lower half at all.

“Steeeve, stop!” you squealed as you fought to bring your body back up.

“Uh uh, I don’t wanna hear anything from you unless it’s ‘yes Daddy’ or ‘thank you Daddy’. Do you understand?”

You merely whined in response, still struggling in a futile attempt to escape his grasp.

A hand grasped your hair, pulling your head sharply back “I asked you a question babygirl and I expect an answer. Do you understand?” He punctuated his question by removing his fingers from your pussy and bringing them down sharply over your wet lips.

“Ahh! Yes Daddy!” You cried out at the pain of his quick slap.

“Good girl. Now, let’s see how red I can make your ass”

He let go of your hair and moved his hand to rest on the small of your back, bracing you for the coming blows. You tensed up, waiting for the inevitable and jumped slightly when you felt his other hand start tracing small circles over your ass. Just as you relaxed into the touch he lifted his hand and brought it down harshly. A yelp escaped your lips at the sting and you barely had time to recover before another came.If you thought Steve might have taken it easy on you ,you were sorely mistaken and you realised just how screwed you were. Spank after spank rained down on your ass. Regretting how bratty you had been you tried to apologise.

“I’m sorry Daddy - Ah! - I didn’t mean - Ow! - to be a brat. I’m sorry - ah! - I promise I’ll never -”

An arm reached down and quickly lifted you up so you were sitting on one muscular thigh.

Surprised you just stared at Steve for a few seconds.

“Thank you Daddy” you managed to gasp out.

“Aww, my dumb little baby. You think Daddy would just stop because you said sorry?”

“But... but...”

“Open your mouth”

Brain whirring in confusion you didn’t react.

“Fuck you really are my dumb baby right now. Open. Your. Mouth.” He gripped your face in his hand, fingers digging in your cheeks forcing you to open up. His other hand quickly stuffed your mouth with the panties he had taken off you earlier.

“I don’t want to hear another word babygirl. I’ll decide when you’re sorry”

Head still spinning, you didn’t fight it as Steve flipped you back down over his knee.

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

Laying limp against Steve's leg, your ass was on fire and you were sure you would be feeling it for days. One last spank landed and you let out a small whimper around the sodden panties still held tightly in your mouth. Steve started rubbing gentle circles over the glowing skin.

“Took your spanking so well babygirl. So proud of you. I’m gonna lift you up now ok?”

You let out a soft “Mhmm” before letting Steve maneuver you so your burning ass sat between his thighs, curled close to his chest. Pulling the ruined panties from your mouth he leant in to kiss the last of your tears off your glistening cheeks.

“You feeling ok pretty girl?”

“Yes Daddy” you nodded your head “‘m sorry, so sorry”

“Shh I know baby, your punishment is over now. Daddy isn’t mad at you.I’m sorry that I’ve been so busy at work lately.”

“I know, I just miss you so much sometimes”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you when I’m back. I’ll take a couple of weeks off and we can go somewhere hm?”

“That sounds great Daddy”

Steve held you close, showering your face with soft kisses for a few minutes. Whilst you loved the attention you were getting, the throbbing in your core had your squirming in his lap. The burning in your ass had faded to a warm glow and now your focus was firmly on the wetness between your legs.

“What’s the matter babygirl? Did I go too hard?” his concern was written over his features as his eyes searched yours.

“No Daddy I’m fine. It’s just…”

“Just what princess?”

“Um… I’m all...all tingly Daddy” you whispered

You saw realisation sweep across his face. “Do you want some help from Daddy?” he asked huskily, face dropping close to yours.

“Yes please Daddy.”

“Such good manners baby.”

Your legs fell apart as he reached his hand down. Teasing fingers brushed through your soft patch of hair before sliding along your dripping slit. “Oh you really need some help don’t you babygirl?”

You stared up with pleading eyes “please.”

His fingers quickly zeroed in on your clit, rubbing slow circles around the sensitive bud. His mouth found your neck, alternating between kissing and sucking harshly along your skin. You ground your hips into his hand and bared your neck, seeking more of everything. All too quickly he withdrew his hand. You started to whine but were stopped as he shifted your body, cradling you in his arms as he stood. He moved around the bed, placing you gently on the soft surface, head resting back on the pillows. You winced a little as your tender skin touched the fabric.

“Don’t worry babygirl, I’ll make you forget all about that soon'' he said as he helped you take your shirt off before spreading your legs and positioning himself between them. Kissing you softly he cupped your face with one hand.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too Daddy.”

He kissed you deeply as his hand trailed down, pinching your hardened nipples gently. Pulling away he wrapped his lips around one nipple whilst his hand kept teasing the other. He alternated between your breasts, lavishing your nipples with his tongue, occasionally grazing his teeth over them. You were breathily heavily, face flushed as he continued his assault on you. Steve’s knee was pushed up into your core and you ground down on him desperately, trying to find enough friction. Soft whines bubbled up from you, feeling overwhelmed but needing more at the same time.

Your fingers wove into his hair as you tried to pull him further down your body. You felt him smile against your skin.

“What are you wanting babygirl?”

“Want your mouth on me”

“But you already do princess” He feigned ignorance grinning up at you.

“No not there Daddy”

“Hmmm where do you want my mouth then?” he asked, voice muffled as his face buried back between your breasts.

“My pussy Daddy. Please Daddy, I need you to eat my pussy. I want you to make me cum.”

“I love when you beg babygirl. So desperate for Daddy to eat your sweet little pussy”

You didn’t let go of his hair as he dipped down lower, shifting so his mouth hovered directly over your center. You felt his warm breath wash over you, the anticipation building before he licked a broad stripe up the length of your slit. You gasped and pulled harshly on his hair earning yourself a moan in return. “Please..more” you begged, moving your hips to try and find some friction. Steve’s expert tongue found your clit, circling the sensitive bud of nerves, bringing you waves of pleasure. Warmth rushed over your body and you felt like you were floating. It took only minutes before the coil in your belly felt like it was about to snap.

“Daddy, daddy ‘m close, please”

“Good girl, come as much as you want tonight babygirl, I’ve got you” Steve answered before diving back into your folds, quickly bringing you right back to your precipice. Sensing that you needed just a little more he brought a hand up and sunk two fingers deep inside of you, curling them rhymically before sealing his lips over your clit and sucking. Ecstasy exploded through your body as every muscle tensed and you rode out the heights of pleasure. Coming down from your high you saw Steve grinning up at you.

“Ready for another babygirl?”

#steve x reader #dom!steve #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve x you

129 notes · View notes

asset35-maya · 3 years ago

Text

RED DRESS

Part 2/2 of Nice Things

“Come on, we’re going to be late.”

“Five minutes, sweetheart. Please.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and sat down on the bed with a thump. The day had finally come when the human was more punctual than the android. He sniggered at the thought but refrained from saying it out loud. Nines looked far more serious than he ought to for a Friday night.

“Babe, it’s just the guys. And Tina.”

Nines ignored him in favor of twirling a mascara wand through his lashes.

“We’re literally going to Abick’s. That’s like the oldest, grungiest cop bar you can-”

“It’s not the place or the company, sweetheart.”

Gavin watched Nines finish off with eyeliner. Somehow even androids’ mouths hung open in concentration while doing that.

He stood up from the little pouffe and shook his long hair out with a flourish. Taking that as his cue, Gavin got up and pressed himself up against his lover’s back. He curled his arms around Nines’ trim waist and rested his chin on his shoulder.

Their eyes met in the mirror of the wooden dresser that Gavin had built for Nines.

“Whatchu so gorgeous for?”

Nines tried, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

“Shut up and zip me up.”

It wasn’t like he couldn’t reach behind himself and do it on his own. The RK900 model was supremely dexterous, flexible to the point of double-jointedness.

It was more of an implicit request for the human’s approval of the outfit. Nines didn’t need it, but he asked anyway… just like later that night, Gavin would ask him if it was okay to splurge on a bacon cheeseburger or order an extra shot in his whiskey coke…

They were codependent like that.

Gavin left one hand on the android’s stomach and placed the other on the small of his back, just at the opening of the dress. His thumb grazed the zipper, but he didn’t demonstrate any further intent to pull it up.

“You said we were going to be late.”

Gavin swept the dark curtain of hair aside and pressed his lips to the exposed skin at the nape of Nines’ neck. When he spoke it was a whisper.

“Why’s my babydoll looking like something out of a movie for my dumb little promotion party?”

His hand slipped into the open flap of the dress. It was a simple knee-length a-line. Fairly modest, but something about it set Gavin’s heart racing. Perhaps the colour. A vibrant, lusty, sexy, show-stopping red in sharp contrast to the milky white synthskin.

Nines couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him at the touch. Sighing, he tipped his head back and let Gavin nuzzle his neck.

“Hmm?”

“Now we’re really going to be late, sweetheart. Zip… hhhhh… zip… me up…”

“Come on, doll. I don’t want someone accidentally spilling beer or mustard on this pretty little thing you got on. It’s just gonna be a chill night out with our friends. They demanded a treat for my promotion, and Hank said he’d come too, so I picked a place he’d be more comfortable at, and I realise that’s not exactly your scene, but I’m glad you’re coming with me, but I really gotta say this dress-”

Nines turned around in Gavin’s grasp and silenced him with a kiss.

“It’s not the place or the company,” he repeated, putting his arms around the human’s neck.

“It’s your promotion party. It’s about your achievements, your hard work, YOU. And in case you haven’t noticed, you’re the most important person in my life. My partner in more ways than one. My everything.

Your rise in stature means as much if not more to me than my own accomplishments. I’m not the RK900 with the impeccable solve rate. I’m Sergeant Reed’s better half.

If I had it my way we’d be doing something much grander, but this is how you want to celebrate and that’s fine, but please don’t stop me from dressing for the occasion.”

They looked at each other for a long moment. Steel blue and storm green locked in stalemate.

Then Gavin pulled Nines into a tight embrace. He released him abruptly and spun him around, zipping up the dress in a flash. Avoiding eye contact lest the tears pricking his eyes betray him, Gavin caught the android’s hand in his and marched out of the apartment.

Connor greeted them at the entrance of the bar and waved them over to where the motley crew sat, already well into their first round of drinks.

Hank raised his beer glass in greeting, wearing an orange striped shirt he apparently deemed worthy of festivities. Tina enveloped Gavin in a giant hug. For a good thirty seconds he could see nothing but flannel. Then Miller, Person and countless other officers took turns congratulating him and bringing up past cases or incidents they couldn’t believe hadn’t held Gavin’s career back.

Nines extricated himself with an artful wave of long fingers and settled onto a bar stool beside his older brother Sixty and his husband Allen. Serious, snarky and clad in their usual black leather, these two were more Nines’ speed.

Ignoring Sixty’s irritated grumble, Nines took a sip of his thirium drink to see if he liked the taste and ordered one for himself. He was prepared to spend the rest of the night sitting still and not touching the many sticky, greasy surfaces in the bar. It wasn’t his idea of fun, but he was happy to let Gavin and his friends do their thing.

Gavin, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood. He humoured his friends (many of whom were now his direct reports) and played along with whatever they insisted on doing, but Nines felt his partner’s eyes on him the entire evening.

“You punishing him?”

“Hmm?”

Sixty was squinting at him shrewdly.

“For coming to this shithole to celebrate. That’s why you wore this? Poor bastard can’t keep his eyes off you.”

Nines swatted his brother on the chest.

“I don’t play games like you.”

“Who says I play games?”

Allen shook his head but didn’t look up from his phone.

“I have a fashion sense, Six, not an agenda. I’m not punishing him for anything.”

“Well, you’re certainly distracting him. Reminds me of the time Allen said something stupid while we were getting ready for a shift so I put on lingerie underneath my gear. He nearly fell off a roof that day.”

Allen buried his face in his hands while Nines laughed out loud.

“Shiiit. Your guy looks fucking lovesick. In front of all his staff too. They’re gonna think he’s a total sap. A new authority figure like him has got to show some grit.”

“Six, your husband follows you around like a lost puppy but that hasn’t interfered with his ability to lead your unit. Gavin will be fine.”

Allen didn’t know whether to consider that an insult or a compliment and settled for sipping his drink in silence.

“So what are you gonna do?”

“To?”

“Make the torture worth his while.”

At that exact moment, Gavin gave Nines a look from across the bar that could have only one interpretation. Sixty noticed and barked a laugh.

Nines self-consciously tucked his hair behind his ear and smoothed down his dress. If he were human he’d have blushed bright red.

Back to idly scrolling through his phone, Allen spoke without looking up.

“Let him do whatever he wants.”

Nines’ eyes widened. Sixty nodded wisely.

“His imagination is probably running all over the place right now. All you have to do is let him act on it and you’ll make him the happiest man on earth. It’s his promotion. You should be the prize.”

Allen put down his phone and scooted closer to Sixty, wrapping his arms around the android. They both looked at Nines with identical expressions that were anything but innocent.

“Yeah, Nines. Dress like a present, expect to be unwrapped.”

Raucous cheers erupted as Gavin lost yet another game of beer pong. The new sergeant barely noticed and took the shot glass thrust into hand by a very jubilant Connor. Nines raised his glass in a silent toast and the two downed their drinks together.

The rest of the evening was an exercise in painful self-restraint. Gavin entertained various playful requests and posed for photos and thanked each and every one of his colleagues for their strong support. Hank clapped him on the shoulder proudly, and Tina even teared up at one point, emotionally overcome with happiness for her oldest and closest friend. Nines watched it all quietly from his perch beside Sixty and Allen.

As soon as they slid into an autonomous taxi, Gavin’s lips were on his, smothering him in heated, demanding kisses. Intoxicated and utterly uninhibited, the human put his hands in Nines’ hair… all over his body… and up the pretty red dress. No words were exchanged the entire ride home.

The fact that android skin could not be marked or bruised was the only thing that let them walk through their busy lobby and ride the elevator up with dignity intact.

As soon as the front door slammed shut, Gavin was all over Nines. He touched and groped and claimed and conquered.

The dress zipper was pulled down as quickly as it had been pulled up before they left for the bar. Nines stepped out of the puddle of red fabric as delicately as he could and pulled Gavin’s shirt off too. It was only the high quality gyroscope of the RK900 model that kept them from crashing to the floor before making it to the bed.

Nines allowed himself to be pushed onto the bed and parted his legs for Gavin to easily settle between them. From there, he expected things to go at lightning speed… for Gavin to plough into him and come with a loud roar after a couple minutes, finally sated after a night of frustration.

The exact opposite occurred.

Even after all the tequila shots Connor and Tina made him do, Gavin was somehow still lucid enough to put his lover’s feelings over immediate physical needs.

“Babe, I… am soooo… sorry…”

One hand wound up in his hair and the other gripped his hip.

“Like.. you dressed the phck up… like you looked soooooo damn beautiful, baby… I’m gonna cry.”

For a moment, it honestly looked like that was a possibility until Nines reached up and stroked the human’s stubbled cheek.

“I know Abick’s is kinda crusty but you came anyway… looking like a million bucks but I didn’t spend a second with you… T and Con and the crew… they kinda took over…”

“It’s fine, sweetheart. It was our whole team’s night as much as yours. I’m glad they all had their fun.”

“I didn't. Have any fun.”

“Really? Not even when Chris did that Fowler impersonation?”

“Couldn’t stop… thinking of you… you’re so damn good to me… and I…”

“I was fine. You invited Six and Allen to keep me company and it was fiiiineee.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Now come on, sarge. Show me who’s boss.”

Nines rolled his hips against Gavin’s and that was all the conversation there was to be had for the night. They were both still getting used to having nice things… but they were doing well.

Inspired by @marndraws

#reed900 #rk900 #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #dbh gavin #gavin reed #gavin900 #gavin x rk900 #gavin x nines #background allen60 #long haired nines #red dress #tooth rotting fluff

67 notes · View notes

not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years ago

Text

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 11:

“So, what, you’ve just known about your soulmate for over a week? And you didn’t tell me!” Your best friend huffs, slouching into the booth across from you.

The café you had decided to meet Selene in seemed abnormally loud today, but even through the noise you could hear her frustration. And you understood it too- she’d been listening to you fantasize about your soulmate for years now, so much so that it must have gotten annoying. But she listened anyway, and apparently you repaid that favor by not even telling her when your tattoo appeared, nor when you actually met him.

You couldn’t help it though. As much as you wanted to gush about it to everyone, another part of you wanted to keep it a secret. You didn’t wanna share Bakugou yet, as selfish and ridiculous as that sounded.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry; but honestly, it was just super surreal. Like I didn’t know how to talk about it.” You meet her eyes, grateful to see that even through her frustration, Selene still just looked happy for you.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Had to give you a little shit, but really I’m excited for you.” She takes a sip of her drink, leaning forward on your elbows. “Can I see the tattoo?”

You pale.

It really was an ugly tattoo. Messy and scribbly and poorly drawn, and odd even as far as soulmate tattoos go. Every other person you’d known with a soulmate tattoo - which, granted, wasn’t many- had a name. Even your soulmate himself had your name! But you didn’t. You had his phone number, and no matter which way you thought about it, you couldn’t figure out why that was.

“Yeah, it’s uh, on my collarbone.” You unzipped your jacket, pulling it to the side to reveal the tattoo.

“It’s- it’s, um, not what I expected.”

“That’s what I said. It showed up on my birthday,” You shrugged. “Wasn’t there the night before, but when I woke up it was just sitting there.”

“Why a phone number?” She questions, poking at the mark with a gentle finger. “And why does it look like-”

“Like that?” You chuckle, pushing her hands away and zipping your jacket up once more. “I have absolutely no idea. I’ve never seen anyone else with a phone number before; even Bakugou has my name.”

“Um, who?”

“His name’s Bakugou. My soulmate, I mean.”

“Wait- you talked to him? And you still didn’t tell me? You bitch!” Selene throws her head back, a laugh tumbling out of her lips. “I thought you’d just been hiding the tattoo, I didn’t know you were hiding him too!”

“Shut up- you’re being so loud!”

“I can’t help it! This is just so exciting!”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Y/n,” You watched your friend straighten, a wicked smile crawling across her lips. “What’s that look about, huh, does somebody have a crush?”

You can feel you cheeks and ears flushing, but you don’t say anything. Selene just stares at you, wide manic grin across her face that just seems to make you blush even more. It’s a stalemate until she reaches across the table, poking at your red cheek. You break.

“God, fine, maybe- I don’t know, okay!” You huff, looking down to avoid her eyes. “We’ve talked like everyday since my tattoo came in, but I still feel like I don’t knowing anything about him!”

“Huh-”

“He’s so, like, dodgy- about everything I ask him. It was like pulling teeth just to get his name! And it’s not even his full name! Just his last.” You pulled at your jacket, sinking into your seat. “Bakugou just like, avoids everything I ask him! I’ve told him about my quirk, and what I’m studying, but he won’t tell me anything! He just like gives me a two-word answer or calls me a name- which is fine, I actually find that part funny- but still. He gives me nothing. Absolutely fuck all nothing unless I literally beg for it!”

“Woah, okay, breathe, Y/n. ” Selene holds a placating hand towards you. “Look, I’m sure he has his reasons. I mean, they’re probably shitty reasons since he’s like a 20 year old gu-”

“21.”

“Yeah, okay, since he’s 21, and definitely immature, but they’re still his reasons.”

“Who the fuck cares about reasons? I mean we’re literally soulmates. We’re gonna know everything about each other eventually, so I have no idea why he’s being so cagey! Actually, now that I think about it, it’s really kind of irritating!”

You gasp suddenly, not realizing how involved your rant had gotten. Apparently you were more upset than you realized, or at least significantly more annoyed.

You think back to how you felt yesterday- after you’d read Sunshine at the end of his text. You were light and airy and happy, but all of that seemed to have faded. God, what you wouldn’t give to feel like that now.

Selene waves a hand in front of your face, up and down in front of your eyes until you meet her gaze.

“I get that. I understand where that would come from, but all that really matters is whether or not you like talking to him- do you like talking to him?”

“Yes.” You say simply, surprised by how easy the conclusion was to come to. “I do.”

“Then don’t stress, sweetie.” Selene pats your hand. “Tell me about the things you do like.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Your smile is small, timid, unsure, but you find the words come easy. “I like that he’s funny- and that he swears a lot. And that might be even more funny, because sometimes I’ll look at my texts and I swear it’s like there’s a 12 year old on the other end.”

Selene just smiles, nodding to urge you on.

“I like that he gets super shy if I say anything nice to him- it’s like he freezes up and just swears everywhere and types in all caps.” You feel your cheeks heating up as you speak, but that doesn’t stop you. “I like that he’ll text me if I don’t text him- and that he responds fast when I do. And I like that he’s blunt- there’s less words for me to get anxious over that way.”

“Alright. I’ve decided.”

“Excuse me?”

“I like him for you.” She shrugs. “And I have good opinions so don’t argue.”

“But he still-”

“Yeah, I get it. But at the end of the day he’s still your soulmate, right?” She leans forward, tapping your forehead. “So stop overthinking it. You wouldn’t have that tattoo if he wasn’t supposed to be good for you.”

“Yeah.” You feel the sudden urge to hug her, overcome with yet another reason why you loved her so much. “I was being sort of ridiculous wasn’t I?”

“No, not ridiculous. It’s a valid complaint.”

You nod.

“He does need to start telling you more, especially if you’re already telling him about you.” Selene brushes her hair back with an errant hand. “But I also think you tend to fixate on reasons to leave instead of looking for reasons to stay- and I’m not gonna let you do that this time.”

You just look up at her, finding nothing but Selene’s gentle smile.

It hits you then that she’s right. You did always search for the bad instead of making your own good. With relationships. With friendships. Even with school- but she was right. You couldn’t do that this time. It wouldn’t just affect you, it’d affect Bakugou too.

“Hey, I love you, you know?” You suddenly tell her.

“I know. You’re my ride or die, bitch, of course you do.” She laughs. “Now c’mon, lets go actually order, and you can let me read through all those texts you were talking about.”

“No!”

She just laughs, grabbing your hand and dragging you towards the register.

--/--

Later that night you’re sitting with your phone in hand, nerves making a tangled mess of your insides.

You were stalling.

There was a part of you, a big part of you that just wanted to ask him. Ask him about his full name, and his quirk, and his job, or his school if that’s where he was- about his life, and just not take no for an answer. Wanted to needle and pry and be annoying until you had one fact about him to match every one you’d already given him about yourself.

But there was another part of you too. Another part that wanted to see him call you Sunshine and keep him happy instead of possibly irritating him. And that part was screaming just as loud.

You groaned, setting your phone down once again, and rolling onto your side. Your eyes caught on to the TV. You’d switched it on earlier, hoping the background noise of the local news could help settle your nerves, but it didn’t work. As of now though, you were quickly held captive by the footage you saw.

On screen was a recap of a battle that had occurred a few days ago- and it didn’t look good. The villian was terrifying; a black, oozing mass of tar that seemed to swallow people and objects whole. It was running a rampage through the city, it’s undeniable strength completely unchallenged by the police force- until suddenly? An explosion. Multiple explosions. Big, loud, noisy explosions and chaos and bright light until the villain was shot clean through with a grenade blast. The villain fell, engulfed by a cloud of smoke and debris.

You watched as the smoke cleared from the camera footage, only seeing the vaguest outline of a man before they were jetting offscreen by the force of their own explosions.

“Burgeoning pro-hero Dynamite yet again saving the day, and then quickly leaving the scene.” The newscaster announced, voice drowning out the sound of the disaster footage.

The scene switches as the fight recap footage ends. The usual roundtable of reporters is shown instead, and they quickly begin discussing the fight.

“It’s not altogether surprising,” A woman says. “In fact, it’s almost better if he leaves, don’t you think? I mean, surely no one’s forgotten what happened in Hosu right?”

Another reporter winces. “Yep, definitely not. Even a year out from the incident it’s still hard to see him in the same light as before.”

You shift on your bed, suddenly scared half to death by the loud sound of your phone hitting the floor.

Fuck.

Even after the quick break, you still couldn’t decide what to say to him.

Luckily, he didn’t let you worry about that for much longer.

#katsuki bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bnha fic #mha fic #bakugou soulmate textfic #bakugou soulmate au #mha soulmate au

312 notes · View notes

platoniclokiimagines · 3 years ago

Text

Loki and reader decide to have a duel and everyone at the compound talks about it and gets so hyped for it that it’s almost as if they are waiting for infinity war to come out. Loki and reader also get super serious about it and they train for weeks and everything. If u can, include both the time coming up to the duel and the duel itself and the aftermath.

——————————————————————————

W/C: 1219

Rating: G

TW: none

A/N: I spent so long staring at this prompt every time I opened my inbox, trying to figure out how best to write it, and I really hope that it lives up to your expectations. Enjoy~

“You almost had me, that time.”

“You cheated with your clone, that’s not fair!”

“It isn’t cheating if it’s literally something I can do with my magic.”

You scowled, crossing your arms over your chest as Loki grinned smugly. You’d spent the last two hours sparring with them, and while the both of you were pretty evenly matched when it came to the extent of your powers, they had ultimately won your last match. And you were nothing if not a sore loser.

“Why don’t you have a duel? You know, settle once and for all which one of you is the best,” Wanda offered innocently from where she stood in her own corner of the training room.

“Yeah, that could be fun. Give us all a show. Something to look forward to.” Natasha shrugged a bit as she reloaded the handgun she was using to shoot at a dummy across the room.

You fell silent for a long moment, considering the idea. It could be fun. And you couldn’t lie, it would be nice to rub Loki’s face in your victory, if you managed to win.

As you looked back over at Loki, you saw a smirk similar to the one you could feel spreading across your own face.

“What do you say, Y/N? A little duel. Winner gets bragging rights for the rest of all time.”

“When?”

“Shall we say… a month from now? Give us both some time to prepare?”

You grinned and nodded, sticking your hand out to shake on it. “Deal.”

Loki shook your hand once firmly, still smirking far too smugly for your liking. “Then may the best sorcerer win.”

~~~~~

Over the course of the next month, you spent almost every single day training whenever you could. Your powers were strong, and you’d been at the Compound long enough that you’d had time to really hone them, and take them to even higher levels than you already had. But in your eyes, there was no such thing as too much training, so you were in a training room as often as your schedule allowed it.

You’d caught Loki watching you several times, and while it didn’t bother you at all to be watched while you trained, you knew Loki well enough to not be at least a little suspicious of them trying to spy on you to see how you would fight during the duel.

“You know I can see you, right?” You didn’t even look away from the spell you were doing to send several dummies crashing into the wall.

“Oh, I counted on it. Am I making you nervous?” You could practically hear the playful snarkiness dripping from their voice.

“No, but you’re making me annoyed. I don’t spy on you training,” you pointed out, using another spell to enchant a staff to swing at the wave of automated dummies you’d asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to program for you.

“We could just call the duel off, if you’re that worried.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, and listen to you brag about it for as long as we know each other? Fat chance. We’re having the duel.”

“Fine, fine.” You heard Loki take a few steps, and then stop. “Your posture could use some training, too.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

~~~~~

It seemed you and Loki were not the only ones preparing for the duel. It was a hot topic of debate among everyone else in the compound, and they were all placing their bets on which one of you was going to win. It was rather amusing, to hear them speculate and plan who was going to win, and it was interesting to hear their reasoning.

“Loki’s been alive for, what, a thousand years? Clearly more time to practice and do better.”

“Yeah, but Y/N’s training is fresh. No room to be rusty when you’ve only been training for a couple of years.”

“I think they’ll be evenly matched. They always have been, you’ve watched them train, Nat.”

The conversation went on for the weeks leading up to the duel, and when it finally came down to it, everyone was ready to finally watch it go down, complete with popcorn and snacks in hand.

Always happy to entertain, you and Loki made a show of shaking hands before separating to go to opposite sides of the training room that had been cleared out for the duel.

“Ready when you are, Y/N.”

You grinned, and immediately waved a hand to summon a wall of magic and the duel began.

For the better part of a half hour, you sparred. Every attack you sent Loki’s way was deflected, and every spell that Loki cast, you waved away without so much as breaking a sweat.

You were almost ready to settle on a stalemate, and then Loki, just as you expected, tried to turn the tables by switching to using two daggers instead of magic.

Lucky for you, you’d been prepared for this, and whipped out your own set, the gesture met by applause and whoops from everyone watching.

Hand to hand combat was something you’d been working on much more recently, as it was a completely different skill set from your own powers, and so you didn’t have the luxury of just knowing what to do with them or how to use them.

Whatever you’d learned appeared to be working, though, as Loki seemed genuinely impressed by your skills.

“You didn’t tell me you were good with knives, too, Y/N. I’m disappointed in you.”

You rolled your eyes as you blocked one of their swipes. “What, and spoil the fun?” You made another jab, and Loki only just managed to move out of the way, and you grinned as you went to back to your playful banter. “What’s the matter? The God of Mischief doesn’t like tricks?”

“Oh, you don’t want to start with that.” Loki smirked, taking a step back from you only to step forward again, bringing both knives down toward you.

Seeing your escape, you ducked out of the way and, using Loki’s momentum, and taking the chance to play just a little bit dirty, you swept their feet out from under them, effectively knocking them over, and by the time they managed to turn around and face you, you had both daggers pointed at their throat, smug smile on your face.

“Checkmate.”

Loki seemed truly stunned for a long moment, and then nodded, accepting their defeat. “A little dirty, but a win’s a win.”

You smiled, and held a hand out so they could pull themselves up as everyone swarmed around you, congratulating you and excitedly talking about how proud they were of you and how surprised they were that you’d actually won against them.

You couldn’t lie, it felt nice to have everyone singing your praises, but mostly you were just proud of yourself, and glad that the both of you had had fun while doing it. Slinging an arm around Loki’s shoulder, you smiled, and waved a hand dismissively.

“I haven’t even told you all the best part of all this.” You glanced at Loki with a sly grin. “Celebratory drinks are on Loki tonight.”

“Hey, that was never a part of the deal! Y/N, get back here!”

But you’d already bolted halfway across the room, laughing all the while.

#Loki imagine #platonic Loki imagine #Loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki x reader #platonic!Loki x reader #lightningkiki #submission #answered #action #fluff #feat. Wanda #feat. Nat

96 notes · View notes

28whitepeonies · 3 years ago

Text

As It Was - lyric breakdown

This is going to be a bit lengthy, I’ve attempted to make links to some of his other lyrics alongside my thinking on some of the meaning. As with all lyric analyses, this is just my interpretation and this will always be tinged by our personal experiences.

I will also say that I think there are multiple interpretations to most of Harry’s songs, and we will all have different views on their meaning, and that’s good! Undoubtedly I will come back to this in a few months once the album has dropped with a slightly different perspective.

So to be VERY VERY CLEAR, this is just my opinion. You don't have to agree with my thoughts, and you likely won't agree with them all, and that is perfectly fine! But also, I love to read people’s interpretations of things, and I am by no means suggesting I am right, so pls don't take my silly thoughts as gospel.

I’m happy to have friendly chat about your thoughts too so pls feel free to drop your thoughts too, but pls be kind.

Lyric breakdown

[INTRO] Come on Harry, we wanna say goodnight to you

Holding me back

Gravity’s holding me back

Never going back now – Lights Up

Breaking through the atmosphere – SOTT

Frustration.

This feels very oppressive to me, suffocating in some ways. Being held back by the natural order of things, so far out of his control and something that is conventionally accepted as the “norm” is what is causing him pain.

I want you to hold out the palm of your hand

Why don’t we leave it at that?

“You” = lover.

Harry wants them to make a move towards him by reaching out their hand. There’s a tone of demand here in the language with the use of “I want you to” followed by the rhetorical question, it feels like they’re almost at a stalemate.

Where gravity is holding him back, could it be that the one thing that will pull him forward is “you”?

Potentially also, this is recalling a memory, of longing in those early stages of a relationship, where you’re dying for the other person to make the first move.

Nothing to say

When everything gets in the way

We don’t talk enough – SOTT

We don’t speak enough – Sweet Creature

Tongue-tied like we've never known/Telling those stories we already told/'Cause we don't say what we really mean – Two Ghosts

Comfortable silence is so overrated/Why won't you ever say what you want to say? - FTDT

We don’t talk about it, it’s something we don’t do - MMITH

They can’t get to the heart of their issues, no matter what they do these outside forces are getting between them. So it’s not just Harry that’s being held back by gravity, this relationship is being impacted by all this stuff that’s getting between them.

Seems you cannot be replaced

And I’m the one who will stay

'Cause once you go without it/Nothing else will do - MMITH

There’s a degree of inevitability here, or almost resignation, what’s the point in trying when I know I will be the one who will remain? As if Harry has tried and failed, he knows now that this person is his person and there isn’t someone else for him. But, in order to keep them, he has to stay where he is. There’s a sacrifice here, does he stay in place and keep “you” or does he push forward, knowing that it will damage what they have?

[CHORUS] In this world, it’s just us

You know it’s not the same as it was

In this world, it’s just us

You know it’s not the same as it was

As it was, as it was

You know it’s not the same as it was

We know now that in previous drafts of these lyrics, this might have read “In this house, it’s just us” which I think would have been very telling firstly, but the change to “world” broadens out the meaning here and shifts the focus a little. It’s not just them and their house that’s no longer the same, everything around them has changed.

There’s this imagery of it being them versus the world, they have eachother and it’s just them as all these things shift around them. If we take this in the context of the last few years, I think what we must also consider is that their lives have been in upheaval. To go from what was for nine years a very active life where they travel and move in so many groups of people, to being imprisoned at home for months on end will have been a shock. We’ve all felt that. And the plans they had, the place they were at in their lives, that all changed. Some of that will have been destroyed altogether.

However, I don’t think that the “it” is their relationship not being the same. I think very much that “it” is everything else, the world has changed, they have changed as individuals. But we still have this idea of them being a team.

Answer the phone

Is this an instruction? Is he avoiding someone/some issue? If so, it could be coming from a place of genuine concern, or it could be coming from irritation/anger.

Is this an internal monologue, where he is telling himself to answer the phone?

Harry you’re no good alone

So while I think this could be interpreted as some tough love from someone who genuinely cares for him, I don’t think it is the predominate meaning. The word choice of “you’re no good” is too harsh, we also know that those around him who are close to him, don’t address him as “Harry”, we see “H”, from his mum and sister and friends and a bunch of pet names.

I do think that this is a form of words that someone has said to him, and in my view this is likely about him being considered of less value when he is alone, not in a public relationship.

Alternatively, if we stick with the internal monologue view then it’s possible that he has identified that he knows he doesn’t do well when isolated. He may well address himself as Harry. We know he has said in interviews before that when life has slowed down in the past, he can be at a bit of a loss when he goes home to no-one around.

Why are you sitting at home on the floor

It's hard for me to go home/Be so lonely - TBSL

This, to me, is rock bottom and this line devastated me when I heard it. As someone who has been depressed, at my lowest points you will find me sitting in the corner of my kitchen, or lying on my hallway floor and it could be a genuine question from someone who cares.

Equally though, I think it shows that whoever it is doesn’t understand him. They don’t get what he is doing or why. Either home here is indeed a place, or this person does not understand that to Harry home is not a location, and that maybe the reason he is sitting on the floor is because his home is not there with him.

To continue the internal monologue view, this could be harsh criticism of himself, in a ‘what are you doing/why are you doing this to yourself’ manner.

What kind of pills are you on?

Give me some morphine/Take the pain away - MMITH

Are the pills (self) medication, are they recreational?

Is this, in fact, someone saying “are you delusional?”

I think if we stick with the theme of someone having said these words to Harry, both can be true. Has there been a time where he has been medicated in order to be able to perform, we know it happens to artists, so it could be someone asking “what are you on, here try these”.

Ringing the bell

And nobody’s coming to help

Harry is trying to attract attention by ringing the bell, but those around him are not responding. The way in which he is trying to attract attention, to ask for help, is being ignored. Either because those around him cannot understand him, or because they are choosing to ignore what is happening inside him.

Your daddy lives by himself

He just wants to know that you’re well

‘Daddy’ is an interesting word choice.

This is a direct contrast to the lines above, where ‘nobody’s coming to help’ yet someone has told him they just want to ‘know that you’re well’. We are being told one thing by Harry himself, and another thing entirely about this person in power.

So is it that they don’t actually care for his wellbeing? They’re ignoring his signals, and ultimately, they want him to lie or they want him to find a way to be okay without addressing the underlying issues.

Figuratively, ‘daddy’ is a person in power, with wealth. They have control, they hold the strings and all they’re interested in is hearing that Harry is fine.

I don’t see this in a literal sense being about a parental figure. With all of Harry’s lyrics though, I think there are layers of meaning and there is potential that there is an inner child element here.

[CHORUS]

Go home, get ahead, light-speed internet

‘Go home, get ahead’ in this instance, home does not sound like a place of comfort. This sounds very much like an instruction.

‘Light-speed internet’ is of course commentary on how fast (mis) information spreads online, light-speed is the upper limit at which information can travel so it literally could not be any quicker.

I don’t wanna talk about the way that it was

Avoidance - he does not want to talk about how things used to be, does not want to reflect on how things were before

Could it be that the place he reached when he wrote Lights Up, when he felt that he knew who he was, has gone slipped away again

Leave America, two kids follow her/two kids fall in love

Firstly, America is not home. I mean wbk that but the “go home” to “leave America” makes it clear that if Harry does consider a place to be home, it’s not in the US.

It’s also clear that if home is a person, it’s not “her” (just saying).

The tone of this third line of this bridge is quite harsh, the kids are at the mercy of “her” and her decision making. There’s also no familiarity whatsoever between Harry and those kids, no sense of love or care for them – not that there’s a sense of harm either, just separation.

Amazon music of course has the lyrics, ‘two kids fall in love’. Personally I hear ‘follow her’ slightly more clearly, so I have gone with that as my main analysis. But we should not discount the possibility that Harry intends for there to be confusion, we won’t really know until we hear it live what it is that he wants us to know.

‘two kids fall in love’ is loud though. And the final line of the bridge can be interpreted slightly differently based on those lyrics.

I don’t wanna talk about who’s doing it first

Continues this theme of avoidance, there’s plenty that Harry doesn’t want to talk about. But the one thing he does want to talk about, they can’t because ‘everything gets in the way’.

What is “it”?

Does this link back to ‘I want you to hold out the palm of your hand’ – is he still waiting on “you” to reach out, and he’s tired about who will make the first move?

Is it about stunts? About who makes the first move, who sets up the first kind of publicity?

Is it about the way he is portrayed in the media, the idea that he is ‘ground-breaking’ because he is ‘challenging gender norms’, when in fact he is just trying to be true to himself. He never directly addressed the comments, but he has been very clear that he sees his choices as being about being true to himself first and foremost, not about trying to be the ‘first’ at something.

‘two kids fall in love’

Is it coming out? I don’t think that if that is their end game, that Harry can do so alone so does he not want to talk about it because it’s not possible to do so without doing so together?

[OUTRO] (Hey)

As it was

You know it’s not the same as it was

As it was

Overall thoughts

Themes: Loneliness; communication; change; power; home

Links: TBSL; MMITH; SOTT; Sweet Creature; Lights Up; Fine Line; Two Ghosts

This lyric breakdown is obviously out of the context of the music video, and I might do a follow up of those side-by-side and in the context of the interviews he has given and the hints we got from the YAH account.

Overall, I adored the mv and this song, it may actually be my favourite of all his music videos so far. I basically watched this on a continuous loop for about three hours after it premiered and finally went to bed an emotional wreck at about 3:30am.

The first listen I sobbed like a baby, snotty full on tears when we got to the second verse, and it still can make me weep on occasion.

Secondly, I think he did something wonderful by pairing g what are deeply reflective, meaningful lyrics with such an upbeat bop, synthrry era indeed.

There’s this running theme that I interpreted throughout of how things have changed, around him, within him and how he doesn’t want to talk about, or think about, how things used to be.

The hopeful interpretation of that would be that he has made peace with those changes and is looking to the future, to what he wants to come next. Much like in Lights Up, he could be saying that he knows who he is, he knows what he wants now.

The slightly less hopeful interpretation would be that those plans he had have been halted, he’s stuck where he is and there’s not a thing he can do about it. He doesn’t want to talk look back because that hopefulness he felt at an earlier point in his life has gone. He doesn't want to talk about who is doing it first because he’s been here before, and he was let down.

The relationship with “you” and this theme of communication has been prevalent in earlier songs, and I took this reading as those communication issues being a case of other things getting in the way of what they want. That knowing who you are and being able to be who you are, they’re two different things, and I am interested to see how this plays out in the rest of this album's lyrics.

I can’t wait to hear the album as a whole, and then to see how these songs play out live because I think we’ll probably all change our perspectives slightly on that basis!

#as it was #lyric analysis #AIW #harry's house #HS3 #my rambling thoughts

7 notes · View notes

bosspigeon · 3 years ago

Text

a space between the shadows

My VERY last-minute prompt fill for @wayhavensummer, which turned into YET ANOTHER character study of my Sad Werewolf Detective~ Prompt: 🌈First Pride, Belonging Pairing: Adam/Male Detective, Bonus Found Family Vibes~ Words: 2137 Summary: Arlo has some... complex feelings around his identity, his relationship with his closest friend, and who he is supposed to be in a place like Wayhaven. CW for allusions to homophobia, slurs, and implications of religious trauma/bigotry

Seeing as someone actually bothered to submit paperwork this time, Arlo feels it’s safe to assume there will be no (or at least fewer) strange supernatural occurrences involved in this festival. Still, he’s not sure what to make of it.

“I don’t… have to go, do I?” he asks Tina.

Tina blinks slowly at him, as if he’s suddenly become the stupidest creature to ever draw breath. “Yes,” she says simply.

“I’m just a detective, and it’s Wayhaven, it won’t be anything crazy, so I don’t have to be there to keep things—”

“Oh, no, of course not,” she interjects, well acquainted with his nervous babbling by now. He’s barely exhaled his relieved sigh when she leans her elbows on his desk and grins in his face. “We’re going in a purely civilian capacity.”

“But I don’t want to,” he says quietly, and he knows he sounds like a pouty little kid, but he can’t help it.

Tina pouts mockingly right back at him. “I don’t care.”

And that sort of sums up their entire relationship, he thinks.

Adam, of course, is about as pleased as Arlo is. Unfortunately, Adam has not yet learned what Arlo knew by sixteen— that there is no force in the known universe more powerful than Tina Poname's stubbornness. She simply can't be defeated.

"She's a little bisexual juggernaut," Arlo sighs. He's annoyed, sure, but he can't keep the fondness from his tone as he watches her swan back and forth from the safety of the sitting room.

Naturally, Tina and Felix get on like a house on fire, and the two of them have commandeered Arlo's studio. The floor is a minefield of water cups, washable paint, and drying posters. Felix has Tina's flag tied around his neck like a cape.

Mason disappeared the second the first tube of paint was popped open, though his sharpy retort of "I like what I like" when Tina asked what his persuasion was (so that she could make him a poster as well) did launch her into her practiced dissertation on the intricacies of bi and pan identities, and how they mean similar things, how at their core neither are meant to be exclusive, and it is simply a matter of personal identity and choice which one suits an individual best.

"Have you been to a Pride festival before?" Nate asks, setting down two mugs of tea on Arlo's coffee table, carefully out of the way of the map of Wayhaven he and Adam are poring over. More for Adam's peace of mind than anything. It's mostly taking place in the local park, and while there will be a parade, the route is short enough to keep things contained.

"Yeah, once," Arlo says with a shrug, and he and Adam are sitting close enough on the sofa for their shoulders to brush with the motion. "When I was at uni."

Nate hums and sits down in the armchair across from them. "I assume it was… unpleasant for you?"

Arlo smiles, flustered, and rubs at the back of his neck. "It was fine. Fun, even. I mean, I went to art school, so the turnout was great. Nerve-wracking, yeah, because so many people, but seeing your anthropology professor riding a mechanical bull in little more than nipple pasties is one hell of a distraction."

He can feel the scandalized look Adam is giving him, but he knows if he turns to meet his eyes, he'll blush all the way to his hairline, so he sips deeply from his mug instead.

Nate tilts his head, lips pursed. There's a brief twitch of amusement to them, but it settles as his brow furrows thoughtfully. "I'm afraid I don't understand. If you had a good time at the last festival you attended, why are you so hesitant to participate in one closer to home?"

Arlo looks down at his mug, thumbing at a chip in the black enamel, exposing an ellipse of white ceramic underneath. The silence is heavy, and he knows if he lets it go on too long, Nate's going to start apologizing, so he sighs hard through his nose before he barrels on. "It's… it's different here. Back at school, I wasn't… I wasn't the Detective's weird brat. I was just Priestley, the weird performing arts major." He picks a little harder at his mug. "Might sound odd, but I didn't have to perform there, not the way I do here. I could just be Arlo. Not a shadow. Just… the fuckoff huge goth from your sociology lecture hall who just so happens to like men."

He doesn't look up, but he can tell Nate is chewing over the information. As he considers, Adam shifts on the sofa, closing the bare inch of space between them so their thighs press together. Arlo peeks up, and Adam's giving him that look. The one that makes him go all soft around the edges. "I know small towns can be… conservative," he begins, and his mouth twists distastefully around the word. "But I have never gotten the impression that Wayhaven was…"

"Anything but refreshingly progressive," Nate finishes for him.

Arlo looks up with a wry smile. "Yeah, no, it's great on that front. I'm damned lucky I didn't have to grow up with Rebecca's family. It's just…" He shifts his weight, and before he can sprout claws to really start menacing his poor mug, Adam plucks it from his hands and sets it out of the way. "There's a legacy for me here," he murmurs. "One I never asked for. Sure, I don't have to worry about getting called slurs," he chews his lip, "at least, not anymore after the whole Graham thing, but I'm still… I don't really get to be me here. People here don't look at me and see Arlo. They see Rook's kid. They see Detective Priestley the Second." He huffs out a laugh. "I didn't even get to come out on my own here. I honestly don't think I ever have outside of school. Everyone knows everything they want to know about me, because I've been a landmark since I was born. This month, it's just a landmark with a rainbow flag."

Nate is giving him that sad-eyed look he gets whenever Arlo and Rebecca get into it. The one that says he wants to help, but he's not sure how.

Arlo rubs his hands over the worn denim of his dark jeans, picking at a frayed thread. There’s a spiderweb of cracks forming in the fresh coat of black polish on his thumb where the nail has begun to thicken in response to his emotional state. He sighs a little, but he doesn’t have the time to sink too deeply into his own head, because there is a pale hand creeping cautiously over his.

“Why do it, then?” Adam asks, head tilted and brows drawn, as if he truly doesn’t understand. “Officer Poname cares deeply for you. I am sure she would understand if you were honest with her.” His lips twitch faintly, and the smile he gives Arlo is touching in its earnest, if stilted, effort. “Bisexual juggernaut or no. Though, she is only little to you.”

Arlo snickers weakly, turning his face away so he can hide behind the fall of his hair. Adam doesn’t let him hide, though, brushing it out of his face, knuckles skimming the detective’s cheekbone. Arlo can’t help but sigh and lean into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

There’s a crash and a cry from the other room, but it’s Nate’s startled noise that makes the two of them leap apart as if burned, putting a few inches of space between them.

Arlo’s face flushes hotly when Nate smiles at them, and there’s a mischievous twinkle to his dark eyes. “I wonder what that’s about!” he exclaims, clapping his hands together and springing to his feet. “I’ll go check on them, shall I? Make sure they’re not causing too much trouble.” And before Arlo can even stutter out a… something—an explanation, or maybe an apology for third-wheeling the poor man—Nate is striding off towards the studio with a spring in his step the detective can’t help but find incredibly mocking.

He closes the door behind him with a parting smile and a decisive click.

They’re left on the sofa sitting guiltily apart like a pair of teenagers caught canoodling, and surprisingly it’s Adam who breaks the stalemate by huffing through his nose and turning to Arlo again, reaching out for his hand and tugging it between his own. “You were saying?” he presses gently, his thumb tracing ticklish lines alone Arlo’s palm.

Arlo tilts his head and sighs “I guess I just… Tina’s like my sister, you know? And we wound up going to different universities in different cities, and I didn’t really get to share any of those big milestones with her. She’s not the type to be jealous I made other friends or went and had fun without her, but it feels sort of… I want to be able to share this with her, since she was one of the first people who ever bothered to… to not just care about me, but to care about me enough to…” He furrows his brow and chews at his lip, trying to figure out how to make sense of the feelings he’s never really been able to express out loud. “Neither of us belonged here, really. Sure, I was born here, but I never really felt like I was supposed to be here. I just felt like I was filling a space someone more important than me left vacant.”

He looks down at Adam’s hands, sturdy and strong, tangled up around his freckled, long-fingered one. He swallows. “Tina’s the one who looked at that space, then decided it wasn’t for either of us, and she carved out one that was.” He smiles fondly, thinking of the way Tina bullied her way into his lonely life and gave it some much-needed color. “She made a space where we could both fit. It was messy, and awkward, and we were still outcasts, but we were outcasts together.” He laughs, and it sounds suspiciously wet even to his own ears. Thankfully, Adam doesn’t bring attention to it. “Christ, I’m rambling. Does this make any sense at all?”

Adam is quiet, thoughtful for a moment, but he squeezes Arlo’s fingers to draw his eyes up again. He’s smiling, a real smile, one that Arlo is seeing more and more these days. A man could get addicted to a smile like that. “It does,” he murmurs, bringing Arlo’s hand to his mouth to brush a kiss to his palm. It’s such a simple little touch, it barely lasts a second, but it steals all the air from Arlo’s lungs.

Adam shifts, and his face scrunches a bit. “While I won’t say I am looking forward to the chaos, I am…” He looks up at Arlo again, his brows drawn, his jaw set with the same fierce determination with which he stares down trappers. “I am honored to share this with you.”

It is really not fair, the way he can just say things like that, things that would sound trite and cheesy coming from anyone else, with such naked honesty. Arlo has no choice but to kiss him. He’s rewarded by a sweet, startled noise rumbling against his mouth, but he draws back before they can get too distracted, seeing as their friends are just a room away. If Adam is pouting, Arlo’s certainly not going to be the one to tell him.

“I guess, in a way, it’s a first for the both of us, right?” he coughs, just to ease the heavy atmosphere a bit. “My first Pride in Wayhaven, and your first entirely.” He pokes Adam in the chest. “We’ll have to get you a flag. You look good in pastels.”

“Are you certain the rainbow is not too at odds with your aesthetic?” Adam teases in return.

“Goth is a state of mind,” Arlo replies archly.

They laugh quietly together, shifting again to close the distance between them. Adam turns to face Arlo more fully, their shoulders bumping in a way that is incredibly comforting in its charming awkwardness. “What is wrong with Agent Priestley’s family?” he asks, keeping his voice low so as not to draw the attention of their companions chattering in the other room.

Arlo tries to smile, but it comes off as more of a tense grimace. “Catholic,” he snorts.

Adam’s expression mirrors his so perfectly, Arlo has to clap a hand over his mouth so he doesn’t bark out a laugh. “Ah,” the vampire says primly. “I understand.”

Arlo gives up and collapses against the vampire, snickering helplessly into his neck.

#the wayhaven chronicles #wayhavensummer #adam du mortain #a du mortain #tina poname #i hope this makes any sort of sense #i know i kinda went off the wall w the prompt #but my logic is that there's ANOTHER prompt that will be for the actual festival #so this is more an introduction to the First Pride????#fhdkjashdkjsg if its bad its bad okay #yeehaw #oc: arlo priestley #arlo's issues aren't with his identity so much as with the fact that his identity never really mattered to people in wayhaven #just who his parents are #arlo wants to be allowed to be himself without feeling like he has to live up to someone else first #and tina helped him with that #tina is the one who helped him feel pride #so he wants to be able to share this with her #its not directly mentioned here but naturally adam is trans yeehaw #pidge writes

56 notes · View notes

arielana · 3 years ago

Text

Yeah, I don’t know what this is. It came from the tiny RNM teaser in TV insider - I was grumpy that basically all the info we got was about Liz’s lab partners abs (not that grumpy, but you know).

Anyway, I wrote this, about Liz and Michael bonding. Just really silly.

A warning that there is drinking.

____

“Michael!”

“Ortecho, seriously why are you calling me at this hour?”

“I need you to take some time off. Come to California.”

“Sure thing, I’ll pack my little overnight bag and swing right by. I’ve been dying to do some sightseeing.”

“Yeah yeah, funny. I don’t have time for all that. Look I’ve discovered something, here in the lab, that might be relevant to your interests. I can’t get a sample out, but if an old friend from Roswell comes to visit I could give them a tour of the lab. So, just get your ass over here.”

***

That had been two days ago. Michael had some work he’d promised Sanders to finish first and he refused to fly (the thought of airport security freaked him out) so he’d set off in his truck after finishing up at Sanders the next day. He’d driven through the night, arrived very early in the morning and checked into a motel Liz had recommended that was close to her work.

After getting some sleep and showering he was now standing in the fancy lobby of the Genoryx building, feeling slightly overwhelmed but doing his best not to show it. His cowboy swagger usually worked in most places so he figured it would do ok here as well.

Just to test it, he leaned slightly against the counter and threw the receptionist who had told him Liz would be right down a little smile. Judging by the way she blushed, he wouldn’t do too bad here either if he felt like it. Not that he did feel like it. There was really only one person’s company he wanted and since that wasn’t available to him currently, he focused on other things.

“Mikey!”

Liz came bouncing down the stairs, running straight up and jumping into his arms to hug him.

She had a certain energy that always put Michael in a better mood, even the times when she annoyed him. There was never any bullshit with her.

“Hey Ortecho,” he grinned. “Good to see you.”

“Good to see you too. Would have been even better if you got here sooner,” she bumped her shoulder lightly into his when he put her down, “but it’s great that you’re here.”

Before Michael could ask what all the fuss was about, he noticed a guy had followed Liz and was now hanging back, waiting to be introduced.

Noticing Michael’s look, Liz spun around, waving the guy forward.

“Heath, come meet Michael. Michael, meet Heath. He’s my colleague from the lab. We do all our work together.”

Michael thought he picked up a little something in the way Heath looked when Liz said “colleague”, but he wasn’t sure. He was a good looking guy, tall, athletic, not the stereotypical scientist. Not that Michael cared much for stereotypes, so he shouldn’t apply them to others either, he reminded himself.

“So, we’re just about to go out for lunch,” Liz said. “Do you mind if Heath joins us?”

“Of course not.”

Michael was pleasantly surprised by how fun and relaxed lunch was. Small talk had never really been his thing, but science small talk was a whole other thing he realised. That’s why he had enjoyed hanging out with Liz back in Roswell, and Heath, despite looking more like an actor or model, turned out to absolutely be able to hold his own in the discussion.

After lunch things didn’t go quite as Liz had planned though. Her boss was apparently giving some other people a tour that afternoon and even if he kindly offered Michael to join them as well, Liz quickly switched gears.

“Actually Michael was yawning his way through lunch,” she ignored Michael’s little huff. “He pretends he’s fine but he’s had a long drive. He’s staying for a couple of days anyway, there’s no rush.”

She grabbed Michael’s arm firmly and dragged him towards the exit.

“Really Liz, I was planning on going back home tomorrow,” Michael complained, without putting any real force behind it. “This isn't really my scene.”

“Oh knock it off, Michael. You were practically beaming at lunch, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself. And look, it’s just one more day. Tomorrow’s Friday so there’ll be less people around. We’ll do a tour in the afternoon. I’ll make up something to keep Heath busy, won’t be a problem.”

“So for today,” she continued, “how about you get some more sleep, and then we can go out tonight, eat something, have a few drinks. Maybe some dancing,” she winked at him.

“Drinks yes, dancing no, but sure, I don¨t mind checking out the bars here.” Michael gave Liz a considering look. “So tell me, is Heath coming?”

“What, no, why would he?”

Aha, judging by the brief flush of red on her cheeks, there was definitely something going on there, Michael noticed. Maybe something to explore later. He could be a good brother and try to get some more information. Max was certainly asking enough questions about him and Alex, looking at Michael with those big puppy eyes, acting hurt when Michael snapped at him. This could be payback (helping Max out, Michael corrected himself).

Dinner continued in the same way as lunch, with them geeking out about new research and theories (careful to steer clear of any alien references while in public) covering everything from global warming to medical advances.

Afterwards they continued on to a bar and after a couple of drinks Michael figured Liz had let down her guard enough for him to do some digging.

“So, Ortecho… tell me about Heath?”

“What?” Liz said with feigned innocence.

“Just wondering, I mean he’s really fit, dark hair, smart, funny, exactly what I look for, in both men and women,” he winked at her.

“Michael!” Liz sounded scandalized

“Unless he’s taken, of course”

Liz twisted uncomfortably in her seat. “It feels weird talking to you about this.”

“Why?” Michael smirked at her, raising his eyebrows. He enjoyed this. He never really got to have a bro moment with anyone growing up. Too busy not letting anyone come too close. But Liz, she got it, she was the same as him in so many ways.

“Hey. no judgement here. Tell me, is he really as jacked as he looks?”

Liz sighed deeply, before giving up and leaning back with a dreamy expression on her face.

“He really is. Seriously, his abs are amazing. Not that that kind of thing is really important to me of course,” she hurried to add, “but it’s just- nice.”

“So, Valenti,” Michael pulled a face,” Diego, this Heath guy. I see you also prefer dark hair but other than that I really don’t see that many similarities to Max?”

“You know,” Liz took a sip from her drink, clearly deflecting, “from the stories I heard about you before, you know, everything,” she waved her hands vaguely, “I was under the impression it was mainly blondes that you were dragging home from the Pony?”

Michael shrugged. “That was just sex. But then again,” he added consideringly, “I’ve only ever been in two relationships. So they were both dark haired, but that’s not enough to draw a conclusion based on statistics, maybe it’s just coincidence.”

Liz's gaze sharpened. “Relationships, huh?”

It was Michael's turn to try to deflect. ’Hey, see if you can flag down the waitress, I need another beer.”

“In a minute.” Liz tilted her head questioningly, “I wasn’t aware you considered what you had with Alex an actual relationship?”

Michael hesitated. He knew Liz could probably read him like an open book right now, but he also knew that if he said he didn't want to get into it she’d respect that and let it go. For now at least.

But he’d said more than once that he was tired of keeping secrets. Liz was a friend and it would actually be nice to talk to someone.

“If we’re really going to talk about this I’m going to need another drink.”

“Me too,” Liz thought about it for a second. “Tequila?”

“Tequila.”

An hour later they were both just giggly messes.

Michael had shared his and Alex's story over the years, Liz had opened up about the shock of seeing Max again and they had bonded over how no amount of distance or years really made the feelings go away. It had been very emotional once the tequila kicked in. They had both shed some tears and comforted each other.

At this point in the evening however, they had gone full circle and were back to discussing abs again and both blushing.

“Maybe we should just tell them,” Liz said.

“Yeah, they’d hate that. You’re safe here, but I have to go back. If Alex doesn’t get to me first and give me the ‘Guerin, you’re such a disappointment’ look, Max will give me a lecture about ‘upholding personal boundaries, Michael’. Both a total pain in the ass.”

“Ok, let’s take a selfie and send as well then. If they see our sweet faces they can’t be mad.”

“Ortecho, I think you dropped your logic somewhere on the way here.”

“Come on, you said the two of you are at a stalemate right? Since Alex broke up with Forrest?”

Michael made a face.

“This will give things a nudge,” Liz said. “Plus it’s sent from my phone so you can deny all knowledge of it.”

“Have you met Alex?”

Liz just waved her phone at him. Michael swallowed.

He wasn’t drunk enough not to know that this maybe wasn't the smartest idea, but it was kind of tempting anyway. Just to see how Alex would react.

“Yay,” Liz pulled him in for a selfie, instructing him to make his best puppy eyes before adding the text to the picture and pressing send.

Just so you know, you both have really good abs as well. We love your abs very much. Xoxo, Liz and Mikey

It took no time at all before both their phones started buzzing with an incoming call.

#roswell new mexico #michael guerin #liz ortecho #malex #echo #just some silliness about liz and michael bonding #rnm spoilers #maybe i mean it’s really the most insignificant of spoilers so i didn’t think about it first

53 notes · View notes

internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

Camp Crystal What?

summary: Camp Crystal Lake is a fine and dandy place to spend your summer, said no one ever. You are inclined to agree with that and so are Damian and Jon.

a/n: I am back from retirement with a REEEEEEAAAAALLLLY long crack fic. (This is long as shit by my standards. Leave me alone.) This was co written and edited by my wife @littleredwing89. She was also the biggest enabler for this. I tried to give reader some executive dysfuction but I don’t think it worked out well. We’ll see. This is my first super sons fic please feel free to roast it.

warnings: This really self indulgent and really long. You would think I would have more gore in a slasher film based fic. No. Apparently not.

masterlist

Jon cackles, his chin lifting only slightly from its perch on your shoulder just enough for you to fully hear the petty sound. You tilt your switch, sticking out your tongue in a vain attempt to avoid Damian’s blue shell. You cry out, throwing your arms up in exasperation as the shell hits you just as you were about to cross the finish line. Your outstretched prosthetic arm nearly hitting Jon in the process, not that you felt too bad about that considering…

“Yeah! Got ‘em, Dami!” Jon says, high fiving a smug-looking Damian beside you. You glare at Jon, who was still leaning against you like you weren’t about to bite his head off. “Whose side are you on?”

“Justice!” This draws a snort out of both Tim and Jason who were both sitting in the back.

“No, you’re not!”

“Yes, I am!”

“He is, (l/n). You needed to be cut down to size," Damian declares, subtly brandishing his screen showing Rozalina doing a little victory lap in her kart as her little star guy floated around her. You pout at him, puffing your cheeks like an unruly chipmunk as you cross your arms over your chest. This only serves to make Damian all the smugger and Jon all the more gleeful at your loss.

You turn the full force of your ire on Jon who was smiling innocently at you, big blue eyes sparkling reminding you of your husky, Yoohoo. You’re about to say something scathing but stop instead deciding to stew in your loss and sulk as you hand Jon your Switch. You’d think he would be more prepared since he was the one who insisted on coming with you to this camp. Now that you think about it, why were they here? All you remember is telling Jon that you couldn’t go visit him over the summer because your parents were sticking you in a summer camp while they go abroad for something and the next thing you know is that you’re in an SUV with Jon, Damian, Damian’s older brother’s, and their friend(?). Whatever she was to them Damiam never adequately explained like everything else. Though you suspect she was Dick’s wife judging from how little they cared whether the other invaded their space. The lack of a wedding ring made you unsure.

You let out a little huff, melting into your oversized Gotham U hoodie, letting Jon lean on you despite your sour mood and touch aversion. You lean against him in return and watch as Yoshi zips past Rosalina in mild petty satisfaction.

You all file out of the car, drowsy and irritable. You muss Jon’s bed head into an even more tangled mess. Neither of you tells Damian about the streak of drool on his face. Tim shuffles the three of you towards the convenience store while Jason politely explains to the mechanic that he’s wrong, Dick orders lunch at the diner and makes a call back to Gotham presumably to make sure Wayne industries isn’t burning down.

Over your shoulder, you can see Jason’s form working hard not to look threatening. It’s not working or maybe the mechanic was shaking because Faust isn’t even trying to hide the irritation wicking off of her.

“He wha-” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose muttering something about Mr.Wayne. He looks pained. Tim hands you a wad of one-dollar bills as his voice takes Timothy Wayne's public speaker pitch. All of the Wayne’s seem to have three voices. Their Wayne voice, their vigilante voice, and their normal voice. Mr. Wayne has the most distinct voice. Dick’s was honestly really hard to distinguish.

You count the wad of cash in your hand as Jon grabs a basket from the pile. You note, with amusement, that at least five of the bills had variations of ‘don’t buy cereal’ written on them in distinct handwriting.

“Kent, are you planning to put the entire store in the basket?”

“Nah, just the good stuff.”

You marvel at the amount of food Jon managed stockpile in your basket while you were distracted.

��Uh, Jon, we don’t need that much.” Plus, I don’t think we can eat all of that.

“They’re right,” Damian chides, making Jon pout.

After a healthy amount of debate, two almost food fights, a near fistfight, and your attempt at puppy dog eyes, you finally narrow the snacks down and even have enough money left for slushies. You shrug at her, adding more blue than necessary. There weren’t rules against this. Plus, it was tastier this way.

“Dami, what flavor do you want?” Jon shouts from the slushie machine. Beside him, you swirl a mix of red, green, pink, and blue slushies. The lady at the counter was wrinkling her nose at you the way Dami is wrinkling his nose at Jon.

Jon’s big cup of neon blue smoothie dropped to the floor in a loud clatter.

“You’re all doomed! He’s coming. He’s coming! That place is cursed!” The scraggly man screams as he shakes Jon. Damian’s lip tries not to curl in amusement as you both watch the scene unfold. Out of context, this was horrifying. In context, it was hilarious especially considering how badly Jon is acting. The clerk at the counter looks appropriately horrified. You look at Jon, feeling a twinge of worry. He’s not in danger. You know that but you can’t help it.

Your concoction flies into the man’s face in no time flat and Jon scrambles to your side as soon as the man drops him. You step in front of him bracing for further confrontation but the man simply walks off muttering about something you couldn’t hear over the beating of your heart.

“Exactly, why am I in the back?” Jason whines, unfolding and refolding himself, not quite sure where to place what limb in the cramped back row of the SUV. You let out a giggle which earns you a rather harsh glare from an already irate Jason. Damian glares back at him for you, in an oddly protective gesture, and you can’t help but feel strangely smug about it.

They glower at each other for a few minutes. Jason, probably knowing this was a stalemate, turns his attention towards the front of the vehicle, sharp green eyes narrowing at the rearview mirror. “Shouldn’t Faust’s short ass be in the back with Timbo and the Three Tiny Terrors?”

You hear an amused huff from the front along with the loud crinkling and shuffling of the map. Faust glances over her shoulder, the bright mischief in her eyes contrasting with the rich brown of her skin. You wonder if everyone in Damian and Jon’s lives were all this pretty. An almost smile quirks on the edges of her lips as she says “You didn’t call shotgun~”

Jason hisses something colorful behind you. Tim, beside him, is chuckling either from Jason’s misery or, based on the defeated cry coming from Jon, having just nailed Yoshi with lightning. Could be both. It was likely.

Jason, looking positively annoyed, unfolds himself and violently settles his feet on Tim’s lap. Tim yelps then says something close to a swear word. Jason grins lazily looking more like a cat as he leans back. This time Jon cries out in joy, the victory music blaring from your switch. Again, Tim hisses something edging towards a curse word. Jon wriggles out of his seat and fist bumps Jason who returns the gesture enthusiastically. In the reflection on the windshield, you can clearly see the amusement in Dick’s smile. Even to your right, Damian seems amused if not outright gleeful at seeing Tim’s misery. You couldn’t quite tell. You weren’t a master of reading Waynes yet. You would turn to Jon but he wasn't fluent either. Faust told you that it would take a while which just meant that you would never master it. Reading people was hard enough as it was. There was always something difficult about interpreting social signals. It was so easy to get them wrong and when you add in the complication of being a vigilante you just found yourself frustrated. You slump into the seat feeling the frustration writhing under your skin. Jon noticing your frustration eases up and gives you a little more space.

"So, what's with the map?" Tim asks, throwing Jason's feet back at him and handing you his switch. Faust wrinkles her nose at the offending piece of paper. "Well, Dicktopus here insisted on the authentic road trip atmosphere complete with bad cell signal, a map, and oh right, getting lost." Dick gives her a look which Faust just shrugs it off.

"Like what? The Goofy movie?" Tim asks incredulously, his brows wrinkling in the rearview mirror as he gives Dick a withering look.

Faust snorts in confirmation. Jon’s face crumples in confusion. You make a small hiccupping noise mimicking the noise that passes for Goofy's laugh and you see as the bleary memory clicks into place. "You mean the old movie we watched last night?"

"It's old but gold," Dick defends fervently, earning him an indulgent smile from Faust and a withering look from Damian. Damian shrinks into his seat unwilling to expend too much effort defending his mentor's taste in movies despite him enjoying the movie. You did too but you wanted to see how this would play out. Behind you, Jason shifts, a shark-like grin plastered across his face. " Just because that's the movie you modeled your life after, Big Bird, doesn't mean it's good."

Dick makes this affronted noise that makes him sound a little like he's squawking. "It's a good movie and you know it!" Dick says earnestly, scowling at a still cocky Jason through the reflection in the windshield. You see Damian, Jason, Faust, and Tim's eyes meet in the rearview mirror, all shining conspiratorially. You and Jon give each other a look, each looking like you're bracing for disaster.

"Dunno, Dick, I think the second one was soooo much better," Tim pipes up finally. It sounds like the spark lighting a trail of gunpowder towards a powder keg.

"I have to agree with Drake," Damian says honestly sounding pained.

Faust rewards him with a conspiratorial smile which makes Damian ease a little. The gesture from what you understood roughly translated to 'it was for the greater good.' "So much for your taste in movies, Dickens," Faust teases, poking a finger at Dick’s shoulder.

"You're one to talk!" Dick says, rolling his eyes childishly.

Faust twists her body to look at all 5 of you, winking at you and Jon as if she was about to perform a magic trick, which wasn't off the table since she could actually pull weapons from her tattooed skin. "You guys loved Lake Placid, right?"

Playing along, you each gave varying sounds of agreement til Dick finally threw his hands up in exasperation. "HEATHENS!" Faust looks pleased as punch at this reaction. You giggle as Dick groans into the steering wheel as you slow to a stop in front of a cross-section.

"Traitors all of you," Dick says, resting his arm on the back of his seat and giving all of you a halfhearted scowl. He kind of looked like Yoohoo when you refused to give him treats.

You all bask in Dick’s misery. You even catch Jon giggling at Dick’s frown despite himself. The rest were completely unrepentant. They don't even bother to hide the self-satisfied smiles on their faces, least of all Damian who vehemently protested to being subjected to such drivel. This is, of course, ignoring the fact that he had watched the movie with the same rapt attention as you and Jon. You all enjoyed the movie just as much as Dick did but it was much funnier to gang up on him.

Dick continues to argue his point as all of you offer, frankly, bogus arguments that you say with as much conviction as Dick levels against you. The banter continues in a rather jaunty rhythm until a fallen tree forces the car into a rather abrupt stop.

"Shit!" Jason hisses at full volume as his knees hit the back of Damian’s seat which draws out a soft 'oof' from Damian which quickly reshapes into a snarl. Tim and Damian give Jason a look of mock sympathy. Jason raises his middle finger in a vaguely familiar gesture.

"Jason!" Dick says, cutting off your train of thought much to your frustration. You contemplate hissing some colorful words yourself.

Jason grunts, probably rubbing his shins. "They've heard, said, and done worse." You hear Jon protest beside you but it's quickly cut off by a 'not you' from somewhere.

Then it hits you. "Oh yeah! Dami did that hand thingy when he drop-kicked someone during lunch," you admit conversationally.

"Dami!"

Damian gives you an absolutely betrayed look. You shrug at him not entirely sure what was wrong. You shrink a little and Damian pulls back a little but still glares.

"Didn't you hear him say the F-word?" Jon adds. You blink at him, running through your memory like a film reel and turning up nothing. "Some of us don't have super hearing," you supply with no real anger behind it.

"Ope, sorry, (y/n)." You shrug at him congenially as he smiles sheepishly at you. No harm no foul.

"Kent!"

"Oh- Uh, sorry, Dami."

Damian doesn't look appeased at all by this.

“Ok, so we’re just gonna skip over the fact that he drop-kicked someone?” Tim asks, raising a brow and you find yourself thinking, “Well, yeah. He’s Robin. That’s kinda his thing.”

Jason snorts beside him, seemingly less irritable now that Dick’s attention was directed elsewhere. “He didn’t get caught soooo..”

“Jason!”

“Jason, we’re not supposed to be obvious about being terrible influences.” Faust jokes, now redirecting Dick’s ire to her. You can’t tell if that was intentional or not but either way she seems to be enjoying how Dick’s expression makes him look like a carp gasping for air.

“Why did you tell them?” Damian hisses, albeit softer than he normally does. You frown at him confused. You thought it was spectacular and you really don’t know what was wrong. You really wish they’d explain it. Maybe you should speak up but would that be rude? You stare at Damian trying your hardest to convey your confusion but you’re having trouble shaping your face into the correct one. You try to keep in mind the face Jon makes when Damian tried to explain quantum physics to both of you.

Turning away from her argument with Dick, Faust looks at you pityingly before speaking and putting her hand up to Dick’s face lightly pushing him back. “Relax, Baby Vamp, I would’ve gotten it out of them sooner or later,” Faust says, looking at you with the same stern look Mr. Pennyworth gives you when you try to steal cookies. It kind of reminds you of the Penance Stare from Ghost Riders but with less flaming skulls and more implied disappointment.

“Tim was the one who ate the last few pieces of the brownies Mr. Pennyworth made for Jason.” The words flow out of you like water from a cataract. Faust waves her hand theatrically as if she had just demonstrated a magic trick. Again, you’re pretty sure this was one. You wince fully expecting Tim to have the same caustic reaction as Damian. But when you turn to look at him to apologize, Tim already had his hands up in front of him defensively. On the other side, not far enough away for Tim’s liking, Jason looks livid, steam coming out of his ears.

“Those were mine, asshole!”

“You eat them every time you’re at the Manor!”

“When I’m at the Manor! Which is what? Once every three months?”

“Two,” Tim deadpans, holding up two fingers.

That was the wrong thing to say, you realize. From the way they’re staring at each other, you’re a little afraid they’d come to blows as Jason surges forward.

“Tim, Jay, I will turn this car around if you two don’t stop.”

“Please, continue.” Dick shoots Damian a ‘you are not helping’ glare but Damian simply answers with a warning one. They all look ready for a brawl and all you want to do is curl up into your oversized hoodie. You play with the frayed edges of your hoodie hoping you’re radiating your discomfort.

And like an angel of mercy, Faust clears her throat. “(Y/n), Jon, help me clear the road.” The statement leaves no room for argument and you and Jon breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Jon lifts the tree with ease. It was an oddly healthy tree, freshly cut. Something about it made your stomach turn. “Jon could have done it alone. Why bring me?” You ask, distracting yourself from the strange feeling by fiddling with the joints of your metal hand which only made you more conscious of how pointless it was to bring you along. Faust glances towards the car. The boys are still bickering. She then glances down at you with a wry smile. “Waynes bickering is really funny from a distance.” Your eyes glance at the light scar on her running down her clavicle, disappearing into the line of her shirt. You doubt it’s from any of them. You really doubt it. The Wayne kids were chaotic, especially the girls, but they’re never- Well, they can be hurtful but not that way. Not that you’ve seen anyway. You shake your head and glance at the car and watch them argue. Their gestures are animated and loud enough that you could almost hear the bickering going on. This liveliness settles your stomach.

You spend a few minutes out there waiting for them to settle down. It was long enough for you and Jon to start debating the existence of Gummy Bear shaped aliens and for Faust to weigh in with her humble opinion. Dick honks at the three of you to tell you it was, relatively, safe to come back. Tim, Damian, and Jason were all sulking in their respective corners while Dick gives you and Jon an apologetic look. Jon simply shrugs as if to say it was normal for brothers to argue but you found it hard to picture Conner ever being that mean to Jon or vice versa for that matter. Faust rolls her eyes at the sulking birds, a fond smile quirking on her lips. Dick gives her a look that was usually followed by the words ‘I miss not being the adult’ which she graciously answers with a smile that plainly says ‘me too.’

In the corner of your eye, you see something- a shadow- move in the woods as you drive off, Dick’s story about space aliens falling away into the background. You turn to Jon who looks at you confused and a little concerned. It was clear he didn’t see it, whatever it was. You turn to Damian but see he’s still stewing. You blin and the shadow is gone. A sticky feeling of dread settles in your stomach.

There's pressure in the car.

The camp is, well, loud.

Louder than you were expecting and full of rowdier children than promised. You wince slightly, ears ringing. You and Damian sigh already knowing that you were both going to be absolutely exhausted by the end of this. You turn to Jon, shoulder slumping, only to find him beaming as he watched the other kids run around. There were alot of days you envied Jon and this was one of them. Damian looks at Jon with utter disbelief. You shrug at him as he wrinkles his nose at both Jon and the hooligans running around. Your lip quirks into a scraggly smile fully understanding.

“This is going to be repulsive,” Damian hisses.

“Lighten up, Dami.”

“Nah, he’s gotta practice being dark and brooding, so when he gets to be the big bad bat he can do the whole brooding thing all-natural,” you joke, using your finger to mimic the ears of Batman’s cowl.

“Please, say that louder. I don’t think the supervillains heard you,” says Damian sarcastically, nose upturned.

Jon grins at you in a challenge. You raise a brow, crossing your arms. Your brain cell takes a vacation.

“HE’S GOTTA-” Damian clamps a hand on your mouth. You glare at him. His eye flicks to Jon who is sucking in a breath. Damian is throwing his other hand over Jon’s mouth when one of the counselors waves you over. All three of you blanch at the color of the shirt.

You all stand in an odd misshapen circle. Damian looks incredulously at the tacky camp T-shirt he’s been forced into while Jon does not contain his laughter. You joke about how a bowtie would definitely class it up which earns you a rude gesture that just makes you laugh harder.

“Alright kiddos, it’s time to introduce ourselves!”

Damian froze under the weight of their collective gazes, the hint of a smile on his face fading. Sometimes being around you and Jon made him forget. Well, not really forget. It was just easier not to think about it when you two were around. Damian feels himself shifting, realigning himself to 5’ 2” of cold arrogance.

It should have scared you just how easily the warm fondness on his face smoothed out giving way to this cold calculating face. It did on some level; on some level, the efficiency of Damian’s face muscles scared you. Sometimes you had to wonder if it was just him or if his brothers had the same knee-jerk reaction.

You roll your eyes as if nothing worrying had happened and bump your shoulder against his. A smile twitches on his lip and the ramrod shape of his spine curves a bit. Jon snickers, not trying too hard to hide it, which earns him the full force of Damian’s ire but you and Jon know all too well that Damian’s just being prickly. You step forward, shoulders broadening, nudging a glaring Damian behind you redirecting everyone’s stares towards you. It’s uncomfortable but you don’t mind. Damian huff behind you but doesn’t protest any more than that. You smile amicably or as amicably as you can. You need to remember the correct shape.

Introductions go off without a hitch.

Jon, like always, has no trouble stirring the crowd.

You make an impression when your introduction careens into a tangent about angelfish.

Behind you, Damian scoffs and crosses his arms over his chest. Contrary to popular belief, Damian did have a tendency to be nervous, especially around new people. This is compounded by the fact that Damian wasn’t really versed in dealing with people his own age which just put him on edge.

Thankfully, all three of you get sorted into the same cabin. The cabin is chaotic in a familiar, childish sort of way with pillows flying everywhere and kids jumping up and down their bed. Jon immediately jumps into the fray. Damian follows soon after Jon hits him with a pillow square in the face.

“Woman up and face me, Kent!”

You look up to the sky and smile in amusement. This is going to be an interesting summer.

The room is solid.

Your eyes incandescent in the darkness. The air crackles in anticipation of the storm.

A silver streak of lightning tears down through the heavens and crashes down into the lake.

A strange dislocation in the universe has emerged.

Your eyes shut.

Your ears pop.

You do not hear as something mangled rises from the water.

You wanted to say this was a horrible idea. Though, you’re not sure how to phrase that without implying they’re idiots. You’ve been hanging out with Damian too much. He’s starting to rub off on you and you’re mildly concerned.

You’d told them that the whole fight was your fault. Ok, not entirely. You simply told the kid off when he was making fun of Jon and you were not gonna stand for that. The kid shoved you, Damian 'accidentally' broke his nose, and the next thing you know is that you’ve been shoved into a random group of campers.It’s been a week but you still weren’t familiar with a lot of the people in the camp. The man with kind eyes said this would be good for you. You really would have preferred staying at the campgrounds, cleaning and doing whatever with the people in your cabin.

“Alright, kiddos, you guys can go swim while me and Jos go check something out in the woods.”

“Don’t do anything we wouldn’t!”

You sniff and bite your tongue, playing with the hem of your shirt.

"You sure they're gonna be ok?"

"What you think they're gonna disappear like Cat?"

Your ears perk up at this.

"Well, I mean-"

"She probably just ran off with one of the town boys."

This was probably the best time to bring up child endangerment protocols or the fact that you’re not even dressed for swimming. By the time you string the correct combination of words, they’re gone. You sigh and huddle yourself into a tree. It’s not like you’re dressed to swim anyway even if you wanted to.

You hug your knees as you flatten yourself against the tree, making sure your prosthetic limb is tucked beneath your normal one. You watch the others as they horse around looking like they’re really enjoying themselves. They probably didn’t realize you were there or did they even notice you join the group. Doesn’t matter really. Right now you would prefer to sit under the tree than risking your arm. Mr. Fox had explained that since it was still a prototype it was delicate.

“HEY!”

You jump. Your skin feeling very confined. You turn to the voice. Jesse, you think.

“Sorry. Could you- can you say that again?”

She rolls her eyes at you and you suddenly doubt the politeness of your speech but no you were pretty sure that was the correct way to say it.

“I said ‘can your arm go in the water?’.”

Oh.

“No?” You were half sure it couldn’t. You haven’t really tested it since it was easier to bathe without it. She gives you a skeptical look and yanks your arm towards her. You yelp. “Hey! What are you-” Your throat tightens when you find yourself at the dock. It’s shaky. The slightest shifting made it move.

You turn your heel mumbling an apology but your arm is yanked back. The grip is stronger now. You look back and see two people holding on to it. “Let go!” you say, trying to wrench yourself free. “It’s- it’s not a toy,” you add but they don’t budge.

“You’re being a baby!”

“C’mon (y/n)!”

“Let’s see how well robots can swim!”

You scream as they throw you into the water.

You thrash your limbs around, grasping for something, anything but all you can feel is the viscous emptiness deforming and reforming with every splash.

You cry out.

The water muffles your screams along with the distant sound of laughter and heckling.

Your mouth is filling with water.

Your lungs. Your lungs are burning.

Your chest aches.

You can’t breathe.

Help!

Please!

Someone!

It hurts.

Your vision is pulsing. The edges are going dark.

Your limbs are going numb and falling to pieces.

The world is sinking.

It’s so dark.

It’s too cold.

Why are you alone?

Where are they?

You don’t want to die like this.

You feel a large hand fish you out by the scruff of your shirt. It tosses you onto the shore; the force as you hit the ground knocks the air (water?) out of your lungs. You heave, gasping like a fish. A large silhouette hangs over you, cold dread licks up your spine but you note a lack of panic. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen.

Your vision comes back in pieces and by the time the world puzzles back together, you’re alone. You’re alone and shivering like a wet rat. You look around, brushing wet hair out of your eyes and you realize you’re not entirely sure of the way back. You curl in on yourself. It does nothing to warm you but you were desperate to feel whole and safe and ok.

You aren’t entirely sure how long it is before Jon and Damian find you or just how they managed it but you’re thankful when someone drapes a heavy towel over your head, muffling the scattered sounds around you. Shakily, you pull the towel over your face. It hides the tears well enough. Your loose hanging limbs tighten around you. You want to shrink, small enough to smooth over the trembling in your body. You know they’ve saved people from drowning before. They’ve saved people from far worse. Heck, they’ve been through far worse. You desperately don’t want them to think of you as weak, as less but here you were trembling. You’re unable to steady your own breathing. Frustration rises in the back of your throat. It is a welcome change from the nonstop medley of panic that’s been shoved on you.

A hand settles itself on your head, the movement stiff, light, and controlled. The pressure increases a touch when you don’t protest. Damian radiates awkwardness as he attempts to ruffle your still-damp hair. You smile up at him through damp hair. Damian simply grunts as he continues to avoid eye contact by staring out at the empty lake.

Jon plops down next to you kicking his feet out in front of him. He gives your space but he’s just close enough for you to lean against if you wanted to. On his shoulder was your ratty oversized hoodie. You tug at his sleeve to ask for it. He hands it to you. You slip it on, not caring that you were still soggy. The familiar, loose weight of fabric against your skin made you feel whole and safe and marginally ok.

Jon presses a hand onto your back mimicking the experimental way Damian had patted your damp hair. He listens to the steadying rhythm of your heart, his own easing back into a calmer rhythm. Damian raises a brow at him and he gives him a thumbs up. Damian’s shoulders loosen and Jon can’t help the snort that comes out of him. You look at him startled and Damian gives him the ol’ Damian glare which makes him laugh out loud. Your eyes flicker to Damian and then roll your eyes, crow's feet wrinkling in the corners of your eyes. You twist your mouth into a weird squiggly line in an attempt to smother a laugh in fear of incurring Damian’s wrath. Jon highly doubts you’d be able to. Damian was, in fact, a big old softie. Sure, he acts grumpy all the time but spending so much time with both Dick and Faust has made him pretty mushy by bat standards but Jon wouldn’t dare say that out loud, at least, not when Damian looked this close to throwing him into the water.

You spend a long time soaking up the quiet before heading back. Jon slings an arm around you but pulls it back when he hears your heart stutter. You pinch and tug at his sleeve and mumble an apology. You see Damian shoot Jon his version of the Pennyworth look.

“Sorry, (y/n).”

“‘S ok,” you rasp quietly.

You three walk along the shore towards the cap. You feel too tired to even blanch at the odd feeling of wet socks as you pad along the path. You walk in silence which is interrupted by a bird call here and there with either you or Jon occasionally asking Damian to translate. He does but for some reason some odd reason, they keep calling you idiot or imbeciles. You watch Damian’s eyes flick here and there. You know he feels it too. The odd feeling of being watched. The rustle of leaves echoes eerily in the stillness.

The counselors, mercifully, let you skip out on the rest of the afternoon’s activities. You curl up in your cabin, warm and very comfortable in the pool of fabric created by one of Mr. Kent’s hoodies which Jon ‘accidentally’ packed. You rolled your eyes at him but accepted it gratefully. You make a mental note to thank him with the mill house cookies you ‘accidentally’ bought at one of the rest stops.

You flip through the yellowing pages of the book in your hand. You aren’t quite sure how to describe how inappropriate it is to give a drowning victim a book on the complete works of H.P. Lovecraft. Then again, it was better than reading Moby Dick. Plus, you’re enjoying yourself trying to find a man who is about as stealthy as a Green Lantern. You’ll have to ask Damian or Jon. Damian’s more likely to have met a Green Lantern but he’s also more likely to give you a boring and entirely inaccurate answer.

You go back to the fish people. Do Atlanteans walk like that? Maybe. It feels odd somehow moving around without your prosthetic limb. Lighter but infinitely more unstable.

“Do you think they’ll find Cat?”

Your ears perk up. Your eyes flick to the window and you see two counselors leaning against another cabin. You shuffle awkwardly somehow moving the mass of cloth quietly. You squish against the wall making sure they can’t see you.

“Cat just ran off. You know how she is.”

“That’s what Raz said.”

“Yeah, where is he?”

“Who knows he’s probably just fucking around in the woods. Doing Bear Grylls shit or something.”

“Hope he comes back soon.”

“Do you really wanna deal with that horny jackass?”

“No but he’s the only decent cook. Do you really wanna taste what awful concoction Ratty has for us?”

Your stomach curdles remembering Ratty’s terrible improvisation of Doro Wat. Ratty said it was their grandmother’s recipe but you doubted it. Unlike the one Jason made for you one time, it was bland. It wasn’t even close to spicy. The vegetables were overcooked while the chicken was somehow undercooked. In short, you had nearly died twice since you got here.

“Nope. I’d rather starve. Isn’t their cooking like a human rights violation?”

Starvation would be a kinder death.

“Yeah. Anyway, I tried asking Jos. Apparently, Raz and a bunch of the other Lil shits have been fucking around in town.”

“Is that where Jackie disappeared to?”

“Probably.”

Ok, so the counselors have been dropping like flies and you have yet to notice. You should probably tell Damian and Jon. Something about this seems wrong.

“Are you ever gonna stop glaring at them?” you ask, plopping on to the log letting your empty sleeve hang loosely off to your side.

“Depends, have they apologized?”

“Ye-”

“Sincerely?”

“Well-”

“Then no.”

“Ok, but does Jon have to pout at them?”

“I’m not pouting!”

“Wait… That’s your glare?”

“Yeah?” Jons says furrowing his brow.

“Batcow’s given me better glares!”

“Again, (l/n) is right.”

“Thank you!”

“Dami, who’s side are you on?”

Damian’s lips curl into a cat-like smile, the kind you saw on Selina. “Justice.”

Jon throws his hands up defeated. You give Damian a low five as he settles beside you. Jon takes the seat on your other side still pouting.

"Do you kids know the rules to surviving a horror movie?"

The chattering dies down and you all fall silent, turning your full attention to the counselor. Your counselor lets out an absolutely delighted squeal, clapping their hands. You don’t miss the absolute dread on your other counselor’s face.

“Ok so, rule 1: Be a virgin-”

“Ratty!” Dawes, the counselor with dread on her face, squeaks elbowing Ratty, Ratchet. “Couldn’t you have worded it differently or you know, not at all?!” Ratty, the horror enthusiast counselor, rubs their arm and sticks their tongue out at Dawes who looks like she’s going to age ten years during this conversation.

If you thought Dawes was pale before, she nearly turns transparent with the next few words that leave your mouth. “What’s a virgin?” you blurt out. You desperately want to curl in on yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t know. It was just your mouth runs faster than your mind. The kids around you snicker and one of the boys behind you claps you on the shoulder, laughing loudly. You lean on Damian, hiding behind him slightly. Damian shifts so he’s shielding you more.

Dawes sputters out her answer. It’s hard to understand. You watch the others searching for clues for an appropriate reaction.

“It’s a person who’s never had intercourse,” Damian deadpans and you nod quietly.

Dawes’ face lights up like a Christmas tree while Ratty’s twists into pure joy. Damian rolls his eyes as the other kids laugh even louder. It takes a moment but your cheeks heat up realizing the gap in your reaction must have given them the wrong idea. You pinch the bridge of your nose and you sigh. You see Jon snort at you and you stick your tongue out at him.

“See, Dawes, they know.”

“What about keeping them innocent?!”

“I’m not getting paid to do that,” Dawes drags her hand over her face as Ratty shrugs,” ’sides, this is life skills.” Dawes slaps Ratty on the shoulder again making them whine at the impact. “Ok. Ok. Fine. Fine. Jeez, you hit like a son of a- Oh wait, have any of you heard about Camp Blood?”

This gets you all to quiet down.

“Camp Blood? Isn’t that like a video game?”

“It’s like a local ghost story isn’t it?”

“Wasn’t that the one with the fish-”

“It’s not the fish people.”

“Let me tell the story!”

“Ratty, you never tell the story well. You keep making weird voices and you can’t even keep a straight face.”

“SLANDER,” Ratty shouts, throwing up their hands.

“Pffft, you also gonna tell us you can cook a 5-star meal?”

“Ok. Ok. Fine. I’ll just tell it to them straight.”

“What? As straight as Dawes?”

“Pffft, we’d go in circles.”

“Hey!”

“It’s true!”

“You don’t have to say it.”

“What’s the thing about Camp Blood?” Jon pipes, putting a hand over Damian’s mouth probably sensing the sharp remark he’s about to say. Damian licks his hand and Jon pulls away waving his hand like he’s been burned. You snort then blanch when Jon rubs the spit on to your hoodie.

“Gather round children-”

“Ratty, they’re in a circle get on with it.”

“I AM TRYING TO SET THE MOOD.”

“Jesus, ok. So, a looong time ago there was this kid named Jason Voorhes. When two counselors were fu- OW! Jeez, Dawes- Ow! Ok, fine. While two counselors were distracted, he drowned-”

“Sounds familiar,” snipes Damian. An apologetic look crosses Dawes’ face, a confused one on Ratty’s, and sheepish one on Jos’. You squeeze his and Jon’s shoulders.

Ratty shakes their head. “Anyway, they never find the body so his mom comes back and hacks the new counselors into pieces as some soft of demented justice for her kid.”

“That’s a bit of an overreaction,” Jos laughs awkwardly. The glares on them do not waver. You elbow Damian and kick Jon’s foot. Damian ignores you while Jon gives you a look of mock hurt. You roll your eyes at him and attempt to elbow Damian a second time. Again, nothing.

“The thing is one of the counselors actually manages to decapitate Mrs. Voorhees. She disappeared two months after though. Legend has it that Jason still roams the grounds of Camp Blood seeking revenge for his mother.”

The air is humming, thick with the roll of thunder and the premonition of a storm.

There is a dislocation in the universe.

Your ears pop.

You look at Jon who looks vaguely like his mother when she’s sniffed out a story. You look at Damian who is already sussing out every detail of the story. Your eyes meet and you all nod.

“It has to be someone using the urban legend as some sort of cover. Or! Or maybe they’re using the urban legend to mythologize their killings,” you say, through a mouth full of contraband chocolate chip cookies.

Damian snatches the package from you taking a piece.“(l/n), that’s ridiculous-”

“Yeah, we don’t even know if they’re dead yet,” Jon protests, snatching the bag from a scowling Damian.

“What are the odds they’re still alive?”

You all fall silent. “We assume they’re still alive until we see proof of the contrary,” Damian says firmly. You and Jon nod. The movement feels heavy.

“But what if the Jason ghost is a real thing?”

“Possible.”

“(l/n), don’t indulge him.”

“Jon is literally part alien,” you protest

“Jason has come back from the dead and Faust literally has moving tattoos,” Jon adds.

“YOUR DAD IS LITERALLY BEST FRIENDS WITH A 5000-YEAR-OLD AMAZONIAN AND A DUDE WHO CAN LIFT BUILDINGS.”

“Ok, fine but we should eliminate the more mundane explanations first,” Damian concedes accepting another cookie.

“I think we have. It’s too rapid and obvious to be a human trafficking operation.”

“We should find the counselors first.”

“Yeah, that’s a start.”

“Where should we start?”

“Abandoned cabins would be a good start,” you suggest trying not to perk up.

Damian glares at you and you wither. “(l/n), you’re not coming with us.”

“You say this like (y/n)’s gonna listen,” Jon laughs.

“ET has a point,” you say, grinning and opening another packet. You offer Jon the first cookie as thanks.

“Can’t I at least be a cool alien?”

“Nope.”

“Will you two focus?”

“Yeah. No.”

Damian pinches his nose. You completely understand why people think Damian makes a convincing fifty year old. “(l/n)...”

“Ok, fiiiine. I’ll stay out of it.”

“Don’t even think about sneaking out.”

You frown and nod.

You tiptoe through the brush, one metallic arm wrapped around you, the other hanging limply to your side flashlight clasped tight in your metallic hand. Camp Blood isn’t too far. You silently survey a few cabins finding nothing particularly interesting aside from cobwebs and potentially dead animals. The air is musty and decayed. You sniff and rub your nose as you walk through the camp guided only by strips of moonlight. If you were to run into a murderer now, you would only have your flashlight to defend you. You didn’t like those odds.

You’re a deer in headlights.

Dry mouth.

Skin going cold.

A scream burbling in the back of your throat.

The lumbering figure is coming closer.

You know he can see you.

Your feet are fused to the ground.

The light of the machete winking at you from a distance.

The world turns into a blur when your back hits the rotting wood of the abandoned cabin.

“What did I say about sneaking out?” Damian hisses, arm pressed on your neck. You blink. A flood of relief crowds your chest.

You sling your arms around him and he stiffens. You explain away the surprised little yelp as something animal and not something from your friend. “I didn’t sneak out. I went to the bathroom then I wandered off,” you mumble.

“How exactly is that different?”

“Less tiptoeing.”

"Funny."

"It is."

"Have you seen Kent?"

"Sadly no."

"Shit- Don't tell Grayson."

"The fact that you swore or the fact that you somehow lost Superman's kid"

He glares at you and you can't help but shrug.

"Both."

"Fair," you say, pausing for half a breath.”Did you find the hostages?”

Damian’s face falls then hardens then you know better than to ask him.

“We should find Jon,” Damian says finally. You flick your eyes and shake your head pushing down the urge to make fun of his slip. You’ll tell Jon later.

You two walk together, shoes in hand. It was easier. Maybe after this, you’ll ask Tim to teach you how to sneak around.

The sound of crashing wood fills the still night air. You and Damian freeze.

“JON.” Damian is the first to launch himself towards a cabin. You shamble behind him, plodding through the muddy earth as fat droplets of rain splashing down. You would have blanched at the squishing but all you could think about was Jon.

“Jon!”

“Dami! (y/n)!”

“Are you ok?”

“I’m in a hole. What do you think?”

You look him over as best you can in the dark. Damian seems to be having a better time. “You’re not in pain, so yeah.”

Jon huffs, shifting around in the pile of clothes. His nose wrinkles.“This jumper smells like something died in it," he says holding up a particularly old looking sweater. It's blotchy with various stains around the neck.

“Check for a pulse!” you shout, earning a sharp jab to the rib from Damian. You glare and rub your chest.

“Guys, I don’t wanna alarm you but I’m pretty sure there’s a decapitated head down here”

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Damian asks incredulously. Your skin drains of all color and warmth.

“Do you want the good news or bad news?”

“That’s not-”

“Where in that pile of bloody clothes did you get good news?”

“Good news is he’s not here,” Jon says, eyes sweeping around.”Bad news, he’s actually real.”

“Stop messing around and get out of there, Kent!”

“Jon, come on! Fly or something!”

“My powers are going-” Jon jumps. But only manage to just fall back down. “I can’t fly.”

Damian groans. He pinches his nose and goes off to look for something to pull Jon up with.

“Why do you think your powers aren’t working?”

Jon shrugs. “Magic?” This place is cursed.

“We are dealing with a ghost,” you shrug back. You all freeze. The sound of distant footsteps making your heart race.

“Dami!” you hiss, over your shoulder.

“I can’t find anything!”

“Wait,” you say, unfastening your arm and reaching down to Jon. Damian grabs hold of it with both hands and you two start pulling Jon up.

The footsteps are getting louder, closer.

"Hurry!" you hiss quietly.

Your hearts are racing.

You pull, Jon getting closer.

He’s almost in arm’s reach.

The man is getting closer.

You can hear his breathing.

You pull Jon up, feet kicking. You wrestle him into a hug with one arm, making a little happy squeal into his hair low enough that only they can hear. Damian nudges you with your arm.

“Well that was scary,” Jon whispers into your shoulder. Damian smacks him upside the head. You laugh but cut yourself off when you see Damian stiffen. “RUN!”

You all scramble up and begin to dash away. You look back over your shoulder, machete winking at you, hockey mask visible in the dim light.

You stumble, feet getting tangled in roots. You yelp, bracing for impact and possibly dying. You feel arms scoop you up. You squeak. “No one gets left behind, soldier,” Jon says grinning.

“How are you still a goof when we’re about to die?” you laugh incredulously.

“He clearly gets it from his father.”

“ Pfffft, probably or maybe it's an alien thing.”

“Are you really gonna make fun of me, right now?” Jon protests, shouting over the rain.

“You two! This way!” Damian points to a small hole in the hillside.

“I’m too tall for that!” Damian glares.

You snort. “Just duck.” Jon scowls at you then sighed.

You all slide into a small crevice and hunched together.

“What’s the plan?”

“Jon, are your powers working?”

“Kind of?”

“Ok, that’s one thing we have going for us,” Damian hands you a phone. "You call while we distract him."

"Why do you have to distract him?"

"Ask him yourself, (l/n)."

Your eyes sweep up to the tall figure. Your mouth goes completely dry.

"Fuck."

Jason brings his machete down in a swift arc light. You grab Damian by the scruff of his shirt. The machete embeds itself into the wall, getting caught in the process. Your moment of relief doesn’t last long when Jason lunges for you. You scream as he catches your arm. With a soft click it detaches and you scramble away and out the hole into the pouring rain. He’s hot on your heels. You hear a loud thud. You look over your shoulder. Jon’s resting against the wall, head slumped. You see him throw Damian to the ground. You call 9-11 as you hurl your shoe at him. The dial tone is ringing. When you look up again, Jason is heading towards you. You stumble barefoot trying to get away. Predictably, you fall, foot catching on another tangle of roots.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?”

“Please help,” you whisper as Jason raises your arm to the sky. Your life flashes through like a film reel. Your breath is caught. Lightning flashes.

You watch the lightning cut through the heavens. The silver streak of light connecting might your arm and by extension Jason. The arm explodes. Shrapnel flies everywhere. Jason bursts into flames. The smell of burning flesh cutting through the air. You watch in open-mouthed horror as another bolt of lightning hits. He falls body fried to a crisp. You wretch the smell still strong.

"Kid! Kid! Are you ok?"

"No…" you gasp, bile lining the back of your throat, "please,hurry. We're at Camp Blood."

You’re cold and wet and forced to huddle into one blanket since the officer who responded only had one on hand. Damian is talking on the phone. It’s hard to make out amidst the pouring rain, so you settle in letting Jon rest his head on your shoulder as he drifts to sleep. The officer said the rest of the force is coming to collect the bodies. The camp is most likely gonna be shut down for the summer. You weren’t keen on spending the entire summer with your cousins.

“I’ve informed father that you’re staying with us for the rest of the summer.”

“Informed?” you laugh, relieved, ”good luck telling Jon that.”

You both eye him. Jon snores into your ear and you can’t help but smile. “He’ll be fine.”

Bonus

The map in Jon’s hands crinkles loudly as he shuffles through it trying to find the correct route. You know the route. You memorized it before you even set off. You did it instead of studying for finals. It was certainly more entertaining than studying for a US history final when you already knew it was just gonna be about the American Revolution, World War II, and probably the Vietnam war. You hold back the snicker threatening to spill from your lips when, with each crinkle of the Dollar Store map, Damian’s brow twitched. Yes, this was the purpose of the map. It was most certainly doing its job well.

“You think they’ll still have the same dumb camp activities?”

“You say this like you weren’t squealing to try all of them.”

“Was not!”

“Dunno, Jon, Dami has a pretty good memory.”

Your car rolls to a stop in front of a cross-section. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel before you let curiosity override your self-preservation.

“How did you convince Dami to come along?”

Jon tilts his head at you in question. “I didn’t,” he says slowly, “I thought you did.”

Your passenger goes deadly silent. You both twist your bodies to look at him. Jon gives him a knowing smile while you give him a reassuring one that says ‘it’s ok you can tell us’. Damian avoids all eye contact like the plague, glaring at the window like there’s a particularly interesting speck of dust on it.

His eyes narrow. And you have the odd urge to follow his gaze.

The trees shift.

The pressure in the car builds.

Jon’s laughter stalls.

A shape flickers in the distance.

Your ears pop.

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

a/n: THANKS FOR READING! Yes, reader has a prosthetic limb because I was reading 3 birds. Also, this can be treated as pre-slash. Epilogue is up for interpretation. Probably. Also fun fact, Faust is the basis for merc reader. I could not resist putting her in.

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #jon kent imagine #jon kent x reader #damian wayne imagine #batboys x reader #batfamily x reader

182 notes · View notes

kurtstinypurse · 4 years ago

Text

nothing but a senseless babble (klaine mini-fic)

so from how this week has gone, I ended up craving the chance to write something soft and fun. I have a list of the prompts I still haven’t filled, and I decided to use one of those and see what I could come up with! here’s a “ways to say I love you” mini-fic, prompted by @porcelainandthehobbit once upon a time.

also, thank you to the best @hippohead I know for convincing me this was worth writing & for always always being so so supportive :’)

I hope a little escape of something sweet is even close to as good for some of you as it was for me <3

“No, Kurt. You’re going to have to cut it down. Your closet at school isn’t even going to fit half of what’s in that pile, and I am not giving you any room in mine.”

“But-”

“No!” Blaine interjects right away, exasperated at the sight of the veritable mountain of clothes in Kurt’s Bring to New York bin. By comparison, his Keep at Home box is sparse, Donate essentially empty. “Do you remember the tiny shoebox of a dorm room we’re going to be living in? Not to mention the sorry excuses of closets? We don’t have room.”

They’re going to be cramped enough as it is, inevitably at each other’s throats more often than not, being forced to share a space with room enough for two beds, two desks, and two dressers, but not much else. The model rooms on NYU’s housing website looked small enough, but Blaine has a suspicion the freshman dorms are even tinier, even older, even less comfortable.

But it’ll be worth it.

He really is looking forward to living with Kurt, to the endless opportunities for sleepovers and movie nights, study sessions and late night dance parties. They’re going to have exactly what they’ve more or less dreamed of for the better part of their friendship, since they were little kids, and it’s going to be awesome. He knows it.

But he isn’t looking forward to living with all of Kurt’s clothes and scarves and accessories and shoes and everything else.

“Yes,” Kurt huffs, folding his arms across his chest and lifting a petulant eyebrow in Blaine’s direction. “But I also remember that you didn’t exactly ‘cut down’ on any of your bowties when we packed your stuff.”

His voice is dripping with sarcasm, and then he uncrosses his arms to offer mocking air quotes to emphasize how ridiculous Blaine’s idea is - cut down? Yeah right.

It makes Blaine feel nothing but defensive, annoyance bubbling in his belly, magnified by the exhaustion from packing their stuff for the third day in a row, by his nerves about moving halfway across the country, by his fears of it all not working out how he’s hoped for so long.

Defending himself is easier than confronting all of that - and so he does.

“Bowties are tiny! Your clothes are-”

“Are you saying I’m large, Blaine?”

“No! You’re perfectly in shape and you know it. I just meant-”

“Ooooh, you think I’m perfectly in shape?”

Kurt is fully taunting him now, grinning widely in that way where his eyes crinkle at the corners and his teeth barely peek out from the stretch of his lips, and it catches Blaine off guard, throws him for a loop as he realizes what he’s just said, too.

What it implies.

Blaine has noticed Kurt, obviously. He’s noticed him often, but of course he has - Blaine is gay, and Kurt is attractive and Kurt is right there, and it’s only natural.

He rarely lets himself acknowledge it in his own head, though, let alone out loud.

Let alone to Kurt.

“I- You-” Blaine stutters, gapes, finally manages to recover. “Stop being ridiculous, Kurt! You’re deflecting. Just- Cut your clothes down!”

“You love it,” Kurt insists, shoving the folded clothes between them to either side, scooting forward on the floor until they’re sitting right in front of each other, cross-legged, knees just shy of touching. “You love me.”

Of course he does. Of course he loves Kurt, loves how Kurt riles him up and makes him feel safe all at once, loves when they get like this and loves their comfortable silences, too, loves how his friendship with Kurt is everything and always has been everything, hopefully always will be.

But-

“No. You’re ridiculous, like I said.”

He isn’t ready to give it up.

“What- You don’t love me?” Kurt gasps dramatically, his hand thrown over his heart. “Your best friend of- god, nearly a decade? Your future roommate? Your-”

“Nope!” Blaine cuts in, biting back a grin, realizing he’s somehow become amused along the way instead of annoyed, feeling competitive now instead of irritated. “You’re ridiculous, and I hate you.”

Kurt narrows his eyes into a glare that usually sends a shiver down Blaine’s spine - but tonight, it only invigorates him, makes him want to dig into this deeper, see how far he can take it before one of them breaks.

Actually, before Kurt breaks. Because it won’t be Blaine.

Not tonight.

“You love me,” Kurt insists, his voice low, almost threatening, nearly chilling, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, nearly close enough for Blaine’s vision to blur as he attempts to hold eye contact. “Tell me you love me.”

He’s pulling out all the stops.

Almost all the stops.

“No.”

Blaine stays steady, schooling his face into a neutral expression, but he knows what’s next. They’ve been here before, testing each other, rapidly approaching a stalemate. Over the years, it’s evolved from bickering over what game to play to this, something much more loaded, full of the unsaid and the unacknowledged, never referenced outside of these moments, quiet lines never crossed, boundaries never pushed past the point of no return.

He isn’t sure why he still bothers standing his ground, still bothers trying, because if he makes it this far, there’s only one way it ever ends, time and time again.

There’s one more of Blaine’s buttons that Kurt knows exactly how to push, one more thing that Kurt always uses as a last resort to get his way.

It should be predictable. Blaine should be ready for it.

He should harness the telltale glint in Kurt’s eyes, use it to brace himself, but instead, it just makes him freeze.

It gets him every time. It works every time, this now isn’t any different.

Kurt rears back, and he pounces.

Blaine vaguely registers the sound of a yelp that he feels ripping through his own throat, but he’s too focused on falling backwards and not hitting his head against the hardwood floor to be embarrassed of or even control the noises he’s making. He manages to land instead on a rogue pile of Kurt’s clothes-

And then he’s laser focused on the feeling of Kurt on top of him, lording over him, his impossibly quick fingers tickling Blaine’s sides, making him squirm, thrash, defenseless - and making him laugh, too, deep from the pit of his belly, his body shaking with the force of it.

“Tell! Me!” Kurt insists in the midst of his own peals of laughter, and it’s like his hands are everywhere, up to Blaine’s armpits and back down again, over his stomach, his arms, his chest, hitting all of his most ticklish spots without giving a second for mercy.

It’s funny, and it hurts, and Blaine feels utterly hysterical with the childishness of it all, with Kurt straddling him, above him, consuming him, stealing the breaths right out of his chest, overwhelming and overly stimulating and-

“Fine! F-Fine, okay, I-”

He almost breaks - wants to break, to make it stop - but he can’t get enough of the words out to forfeit.

“You what, Blaine? You what?” Kurt eggs him on with a grin, leaning in closer, lowering his body down nearer to Blaine’s, a mere inch or two away from holding him down completely. It gives him better leverage - Blaine can tell based on the way Kurt’s fingers speed up, dig deeper, and the determination in Kurt’s eyes, steel blue ferocity.

He’s entirely ruthless.

Blaine squirms, arms flailing in search of a chance to push Kurt off, not finding it, hands grasping in the air, at the clothes on the floor, at Kurt, in a desperate search for purchase, but he can’t find that, either.

There’s only one thing left to do, and he musters all the air in his lungs to do it.

“I love you!” he finally gasps out, voice shaking with uncontrollable laughs, feeling completely wild and unhinged. “I love you, please, I love you, I love you-”

His voice chokes, dies in his throat, cutting off his near-senseless babble of a repetition when his eyes meet Kurt’s, and he finds a sort of intensity he’s never seen before, not from Kurt, not directed at him.

They stop moving at the same time.

They stop laughing at the same time.

They stop breathing at the same time.

Kurt is raised up on his hands now, bracketing either side of Blaine’s head, and he’s staring down at Blaine with flushed cheeks, wide eyes, parted lips, hair mussed and messy, so devastatingly gorgeous and so magnetic in a way that’s startlingly new.

Blaine feels flushed, hot with the culmination of every touch and every breath since his back landed against the floor, and he isn’t sure when it all changed.

He isn’t sure when they went from the way they’ve always been to this.

He can’t move, can’t look away. In the past frozen moments he’s gotten lost in Kurt's eyes, and now he’s stuck there, swimming in the pools of blue and green and gray, all there is.

“I love you,” he whispers again, feeling like he’s saying it for the very first time, the words holding a different weight on his tongue and shaping differently in his mouth, too, in his chest, in his bloodstream.

But there’s nothing else to say.

Kurt’s elbows buckle, and his fingers twine for a desperate hold through Blaine’s hair, and they’re kissing.

They’re kissing.

It’s deep and it’s hungry right from the start, nothing like the few tentative kisses Blaine has shared with a few tentative crushes in the past, nothing like what he thought kissing Kurt would be like.

Because, yes, he’s thought of this. He’s caught himself staring at Kurt’s mouth before, watching as Kurt absentmindedly sucks at his bottom lip while he studies, watching as Kurt sips from his designated straw in the milkshakes they share at their favorite diner, watching as Kurt nibbles the chocolate off of his biscotti at the Lima Bean. And he’s caught his mind drifting there, too, when he’s laying in bed at night, wanting.

Wanting.

But Blaine has never identified it as anything but his curiosities latching themselves onto the person closest to him. He’s never considered that the low, twisting coil that forms in his belly when Kurt locks eyes with him across the choir room and makes him feel like he’s the only person in the building could mean something more. He’s never paid much mind to the lift of his heart when Kurt touches him, to the fact that they both always seek out little excuses to stay close and to hug and to brush and to lean, to the strangeness of these teasing tests that they give each other, to what it all points towards.

He’s never considered that the way Kurt is the first thing on his mind every morning and the last thing every night could mean something, either, but that’s because it’s just how it’s always been, from the time they were children.

But maybe wanting Kurt, needing Kurt, loving Kurt is just how it’s always been, too.

And that’s why it doesn’t feel like a first kiss - because it isn’t, not really. There’s no hesitation to it, no question in the movements of their mouths or their hands or their bodies.

The testing has already been done.

It makes it easy for Blaine to reach and to grab, one hand grasping Kurt’s hip, rubbing his thumb in insistent circles at his hip bone, through his shirt, the other sliding up Kurt’s chest slowly, coming to cup his face, holding him close, holding him right where he is. It makes it easy for Blaine to plunge into the depths of their kiss, working Kurt’s mouth open with his tongue and then inside, tasting, learning, searching, finding.

It makes it easy for Blaine to allow himself to feel, to revel in the swirls of heat that form under his skin and thrum there with an energy that becomes addictive right away, every nerve ending in his body alert, awake, responding to every part of Kurt, too.

When they finally come up for air, parting just enough to breathe again, their foreheads leaned together, Kurt’s body now settled fully against Blaine’s with a weight that soothes him and ignites him all at once, there’s no panic, no embarrassment, no apology, no takebacks.

No explanation, because there doesn’t need to be one.

The moment holds them tenderly, allows Blaine the opportunity to resurface, to come into his senses and into his body again, settling into this newly awakened iteration of himself and of them, but it doesn’t take long.

This is him. This is them.

And of all the changes they’re about to face together, from moving halfway across the country to learning how to navigate a new city to leaving everything but each other behind, this feels like the easiest one, already perfectly known, perfectly understood, fully formed and solid and unshakeable.

It almost doesn’t feel like a change at all.

When Blaine’s eyes flutter open, he finds Kurt’s already open, gazing down at him with a fondness that makes his breath catch, so close that Blaine’s vision blurs all over again as he attempts to focus, but the circumstances are all different now, slow instead of fast, purposeful instead of hysterical, building something together full of meaning and gravity instead of butting heads just for the sake of it.

He wants to stay here forever, laying in the clutter of all Kurt’s belongings, anchored by the literal weight of Kurt on top of him and of the feelings inside of him, too, the ones he finally has a name for, all slotted into place.

“I love you,” Kurt murmurs, and warmth blooms like flowers in Blaine’s chest, threading him into the garden of Kurt’s words and his touches and the tenderness in his eyes, each and every bit of them blossoms of meaning and of intention and possibility.

“I love you, too,” Blaine whispers, cranes his neck up just enough to kiss Kurt all over again, and it’s all they need.

They both know what it means.

#prompt game #surprise?#my fic #ways to say I love you #my writing #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #klaine fic #klaine #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #glee #glee fanfiction #glee fanfic #glee fic #childhood friends au #friends to lovers #fluff and humor

167 notes · View notes