#the lock is normal and easy apparently

[diltonsstrangescience]

This is the worst security I’ve seen in my entire life.

[angelicdanvers]

THE CLEARING | luke castellan.

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader prompt: “i could admire you all day.” by @normal-internet-user

summary: a sweet moment in the clearing of pearls. takes place before tlt. wc: 1.2k

a/n: i'm back in my luke castellan phase and this time, unapologetically :') ik ik, he's the enemy. totally :D i haven't written in so long, i really hope you guys enjoy this! i eventually will make a collection of these on my wattpad (of the same username). have a great day/night! <3

camp half-blood was just as rhythmic as any other day. the campers were up and running, tending to chores or activities, chiron was introducing some new campers, mr. d had his legs hitched up on the table and was slumbering.

and yet — somehow — something still felt off to y/n. she couldn’t put her finger on it. for a child of ares, she was undeniably observant of her surroundings, ready to feed a punch, but she didn’t see nor feel anyone around. 

often times, she realized it was her subconscious warning her of her siblings’ antics. despite coming off as a cold hearted bitch, y/n was quite the opposite and everyone in camp knew. whether they experienced her dual sidedness face to face, they heard of it and believed it. it wasn’t common for all the ares children, even clarisse, to like one person, sibling, mutually. yet y/n was that sibling.

she didn’t mind it. the eighteen year old was one of the oldest and made it her duty to keep everyone in check, even if that meant going against her easy way out — anger. her siblings often appreciated that despite not showing it, but sometimes clarisse had a lot to say.

this definitely wasn’t one of those times, though.

clarisse had just come by and helped y/n braid two of their younger sisters’ hair, the two chatting normally and without any apparent trouble.

then what in the world kept nagging her?

she kept sensing an odd aura around camp. maybe it was the gods’ doing. maybe.

sighing, she sat on the cabin floor, watching as the last of her brothers walked out. she began tying her laces, fixing the tongue on her boots. her instincts picked up as she heard soft crunches from the side of the cabin. grabbing her sword, she walked out diligently, observing the area around her and positioning the sword towards the crunches. she carefully examined the reflection, absolutely no sight of anyone. stiff, she shrugged off her unease, heading down the paths and to her clearing.

the clearing had a waterfall cascading at the heart, a sparkling little pool in the centre. for nine in the morning, the earth was still dewy and the crisp scent of the woodlands surrounded her senses.

inhaling deeply, y/n stepped towards her favourite boulder and slid her shirt off. one by one, she stripped down until she was in her bikini, and fixed her locks to be appropriate for swimming. once ready, she slowly dipped her foot in, the coolness of the water pulsing through her body and sending a jolt within her. 

a mere moment later, y/n was wading in the water, beginning to take laps around the pool. she always had a surge of energy in water that always made her wonder if she was actually poseidon’s daughter — of course, she wasn’t, but maybe she had to thank him for her love of water. maybe. maybe it was just her and the gods really didn't impact her.

submerging underneath, the girl opened her eyes and scanned the bottom. on her lucky days, she’d find little pearls the nymphs would leave behind. she'd have to personally thank them one day. her growing collection was all towards making special beads for campers who’d been there for a significant amount of time, symbolizing their individuality. she was thinking of giving annabeth and luke one to add to their necklaces before all else.

squinting, y/n saw a shimmering area in the corner. charging towards it, she picked it up and examined it with her hands; the water was getting rather hazy. these pearls were heavier, and with more texture than she’d ever felt.

smiling to herself, she carefully held it within her palms, swimming further up and merging out of water. she felt the sun shining on her, and she braced for the sudden light adjustment.

and then the sun was gone.

her brows furrowed, and y/n cracked open an eye, glancing towards where she felt the sun mere moments ago. instead of trees and simple clouds, she saw a lean figure wearing an orange shirt and khaki cargos, arms folded across their chest. she knew those arms.

“gods, what are you doing here?” y/n questioned, slightly lowering herself into the water and staring at the male before her.

he stifled a chuckle, his signature smirk playing on his lips. “what? can’t a guy be with his girlfriend?”

“luke,” she warned, “didn’t we agree to not be around each other unless we actually had a plan to sneak off?”

the curly haired boy shrugged. “like that’ll stop me.”

“luke, c’mon. if anything, we can’t have anyone find out like this.”

he shook his head, “they won’t know a thing.” he nodded towards annabeth’s cap. 

y/n had to admit, his desperation to be with her in any way was the most adorable and hot thing she’d ever witnessed. “did you at least ask her for it?”

“yes ma’am.”

y/n smiled toothily, wading towards the edge and climbing out. luke watched her every move, enthralled by her beauty. he wasn’t sure how he even convinced her to go on that first date, considering she had a knee on his chest and a sword to his neck. too bad he’s the best swordsman and pinned her down next. 

how could she say no after that?

she found him quite intriguing as well.

luke followed his girl as she went over to the boulder, grabbing her towel and gently drying herself off. he headed up behind her, taking the towel from her arms and drying her back off for her. 

“that still hasn’t healed,” he noted, tracing the scar on her shoulder blade. y/n’s body melted at his touch, and the chills she felt were replaced with flames. 

“yeah,” she whispered as luke softly turned her around, wrapping the towel around her body. he brought her body closer to his, putting his index to her chin and tilting her head up.

“you know, i could admire you all day.”

“and why is that?”

he laughed, “with that sexy soul and sweet hobby of collecting pearls, how could i not?”

y/n felt her cheeks grow hot, a soft grin making its way to her face. “i could say the same, pretty boy.”

"who are you giving those pearls to?"

"if i said who, wouldn't the surprise be ruined?" she quirked, tilting her head to the side a little. "eh, word on the street keeps mentioning the best swordsman."

luke smirked, satisfied with her answer, his black hair gleaming in the sly sunlight. y/n cupped the left side of his face, tracing her fingers on the scar to his right. their eyes couldn’t leave one another’s, an enigmatic energy floating amongst them.

“i want to kiss you,” luke’s voice was lower than before, his grip tightening around her waist.

“do it,” y/n mustered up, fluster traversing through every bone in her body. 

without second thought, luke pressed the girl against his body, capturing her lips. y/n’s fingers trailed to his hair, tugging at the curls as their lips intwined passionately.

the teenagers yearned for each other, their love enveloping around them as they remained  in their locked position. luke’s lips were as light as a feather but had a hold on y/n that she was sure no other could.

breathless, the two pulled away for a moment before luke pulled her in again for a quick, feverish kiss. “i love you,” he rasped, staring deep into her riveting eyes.

“i love you, luke.”

their admiration could only grow from there. 

or so they thought.

[no-144444]

family fights- o.piastri

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summary: you and oscar were never meant to be together, lando made that clear. one night changes everything, then another changes it again.

pairing: oscar piastr x fem! norris! reader

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He’d done it again. Another win. Oscar Piastri was a two-time GP winner. 

And no one could ever take this one away from him. 

Over the past few weekends, he’d been pretty down about everything. Hungary, the whole ‘papaya rules’ bullshit, and how everyone had something to say about Monza. He’s a fucking racecar driver, and he wasn’t a second driver. It’s in his goddamn contract, thanks to Mark. And anyways, why would he pull over and let Lando take points from him, when he’s so close to P3 in the Driver’s standings? Charles is slowly but surely trying to build a gap, and Oscar is not planning on making it easy for him. It’s his second fucking season of F1, and he’s matching his teammate. Is that not something to be proud of? 

Apparently not in Lando’s fan girls’ eyes. It’s pathetic really, the memes were funny a while ago, and now it’s all getting to be too much. 

And then there’s you. Lando’s sweet little sister who loved Oscar more than life itself. You’d gotten him through the lows of the past few weeks, with just a smile his way.

But Lando wouldn't let you two be together. It was a ‘betrayal’, in his mind. 

It was bullshit. Lando liked having something over him, and you were the ‘thing’ in this scenario. You’d liked Oscar for ages, and you started in secret, too scared to tell Lando. You continued like that for a whole year, somehow hiding it seamlessly. It was the best relationship either of you had ever been in. You matched each other perfectly, and you got to see him everyday, since Lando had brought you on as his physio. Stolen kisses behind closed doors was a-ok with you two, until Lando had to walk into something he wasn’t supposed to. It was your anniversary night and yes, maybe you should’ve checked that the door was properly locked, but when he was kissing you like that? Who would be able to find it in themselves to care? For some reason, Lando walked into your apartment, ready to tell you off for not locking your door, and he found you and Oscar asleep in your bed, 1 year anniversary cards on the counter, and a bottle of wine beside the sink. On the drying rack there were 2 clean plates, two sets of cutlery, two glasses, one bowl, and two spoons. He was so angry. He just stormed in and started screaming at the two of you, telling you that you’d betrayed him for a whole year, making accusations left and right, and generally just ruining your perfect night. 

Then he gave the both of you an ultimatum. Date and lose him as a brother and a friend, or break up and he’d never speak about it again. You two could be friends, but always at a healthy distance. 

It took you both a week to make the decision. You were both crying when you called him to tell him you’d broken up. His response? Good. 

He barely talked to either of you for a month, and you truly feared the worst for your relationship with him. But, in true Lando fashion, one day he just started to be normal again, and everything was ok. 

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Oscar still remembered the way you looked when he'd made the choice to go behind Lando's back. You were wearing your favourite dress, you hair styled perfectly, your nails done, your makeup done, everything. It was for some boring gala that Oscar didn't want to sit through, and neither did you. Though nevertheless you went as the dutiful sister you were and made polite conversation with the gross old dudes who wouldn't leave you alone, and Oscar (he hoped he wasn't grouped in with them).

"Do you want to get some air?" he offered as you finished up a conversation with Christian Horner.

"I'd love to," you nodded, somehow keeping the soft smile on your face.

You burst out of the hall laughing, having run away from Lando. You got on well with Oscar. He was lovely, honestly. "He's going to kill us," you laughed, grabbing ahold of his shoulder to steady yourself.

"Worth it," he smirked.

You two spent some time outside, eventually ending up outside in the cold French air. You two somehow ended up intertwined on a bench outside the venue.

"I really enjoyed sneaking off with you," you beamed at him.

"I really enjoyed it too," he blushed. "We should do it again some time."

You laughed. "I think Lando will kill us if we pull that again-"

You stopped talking because he'd started kissing you, and you didn't want him to stop.

"I like you," he pulled back. "A lot."

It was so juvenile you almost laughed. Yet, you found yourself answering with; "I like you too."

And thus began your year-long love.

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To be honest, Oscar hated clubs. He hated the sweaty air, the suffocating closeness of everyone, and the heavy drinking. Oscar didn’t drink much, mainly a glass of wine with dinner every now and then, or a celebration drink when there was something to celebrate. He wasn’t a huge fan of feeling out of control.

Despite all of that, he’d somehow been convinced by Lando to go ‘out on the town’. He didn’t want to go out on the town. He wanted to stay home, or bump into you in the cinema near your shared apartment building. You two had been doing that a lot lately, bumping into each other there. You’d sit together, or a few chairs apart, but it’d feel a bit like before you’d broken up. It felt good.

You missed him dearly, as he did you. He knew you were going to see a special midnight showing of Psycho, yet he couldn’t even go because Lando dragged him out. 

“Mate!” Lando shouted from the other side of the VIP booth. 

“What?” Oscar asked, walking up to him. 

“I have someone I want you to meet,” Lando, being the prick he is, signalled to a girl in the middle of the dance floor that looked nothing like you. “Look, she’s nothing like Y/n! It’s perfect!” 

Oscar felt his blood boil, and finally spill over. “Fuck off Lando. That’s not fair-”

“What’s not fair was the fact that you dated my little sister behind my back!” He shot back. 

Oscar grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him out of the club, into the humid Monaco air. This back alley was usually used for a smoke break, but tonight it would be used as a fucking ring. 

“I’m not expecting you to understand anything I'm going to say, but fuck you Lando. I loved Y/n- I love Y/n, and you took that all away from me because of what?! You felt betrayed? You felt bad? It was overwhelming? We’ve proven that we’re not awkward if we break up, we’re actually ridiculously civil, all for your sake! You’re the one being unfair here. Yes, maybe we should’ve told you earlier. Yes, maybe it was wrong to keep it from you, but for fuck’s sake man! She’s your little sister, I’m your friend, it’s not like you don’t know us! I’d never do anything to hurt her, and she’d never use me, or whatever bullshit excuse you gave me. Now, I know you don’t fucking understand this, but I love her. More than anything in the entire fucking world. More than racing, more than anything. She’s what gets me through the shitty days and even shittier races. Knowing that, once I get out of the car, she’ll be standing there with a smile, or a hug on the occasions where you don’t watch us like a fucking hawk, makes it all fucking worth it for me. You took that away from me, and you took it away from her. It ate at her the entire year we were together that she couldn’t tell you, because well, of course it would! You are her older brother, her best friend. She should’ve been able to tell you about her boyfriend. She questioned herself after every day we spent together, every date we went on, about whether or not what we were doing was right. She felt so guilty. I felt so guilty. But at the end of the day when I saw her waiting for me in my driver’s room, or my apartment, or at the foot of the podium, I knew that what I felt was right. And it wasn’t just me feeling it Lan, she loved me back,” he sniffled, trying to hold back tears. “So no, I don’t want to meet someone at a club, I want Y/n. My Y/n. And I don’t give a fuck if you’re upset by that, because I’ve given you every reason to trust me Lando, and I promise you, I’ll never try to hurt her. I’ll keep her safe, and above all, I’ll love her.” 

Lando was taken aback. He was a lot more sober now. He’d never seen Oscar show so much emotion. He’d never seen Oscar show much emotion, point blank. Yet here he was, standing in front of him, crying over his little sister. “Mate, what do you mean?”

“I means you’re a fucking asshole Lando, and I don’t give a shit if you don’t want me to date Y/n. It means I’m going to ask her out again, and if she says yes I won’t stop just because you’re a dickhead who can’t stomach the fact that she loves me, and I love her.” 

Lando was again, taken aback. He’d never really had a reason as to why he didn’t like you and Oscar dating, it just felt… weird to him. Then, with about a moment's worth of self-reflection, he realised. He didn’t want to be second to Oscar. All his life, you’d been his biggest supporter, you two were always together, always there for each other, always his little sister. From cradle, to karting, coffin, he thought he’d be the only driver you supported and cared about. Then, in came Oscar, being everything he wanted to be; cool, calm, collected, talented, unprideful, gracious, and kind. Everything he worked to be. It had taken Lando 6 years to get a win, Oscar did it in his first year. It took Lando 2 years to get a podium, Oscar did it in his debut season.  “Well it’s just not right,” Lando shot back. “She’s my little sister, and I’m not being second to you with her! That’s not fair. She doesn’t get to choose you over me!” 

“She chose you! She broke up with me because you asked her to! I don’t know what the fuck you think is going to happen if we start dating again, but it’s not like we’ll just abandon you Lando! She’s your sister, and she loves you more than life itself! For fuck’s sake, if this was all about being scared that she’d pick me over you, we could’ve sorted this out weeks ago!” 

“I have to be second place to a fucking rookie! Do you know how that feels? Bad, Oscar, it feels bad. And now you want to come here and tell me that I’m second place to that same rookie, in my sister’s opinion? Y’know how that feels? Worse!” Lando was crying now, unable to control it. “I’ve been second to someone my whole fucking life, and Y/n was the one person who understood me! And now you want to take her away!” 

“I’m not taking her away, Lando! We’re both still going to be here for you!” Oscar took a deep breath. “You shouldn’t take your frustrations on the track out on her, she’s the one suffering for it. You’re suffering for it too, and so am I. Lando, she loves you no matter what, you know that.” “I’m scared alright?” He groaned. “I’m scared that one day I’ll turn around after an interview and see her celebrating you winning over me! I’m scared that she’ll see I’m not as good as you! I’m scared.” 

“You can be scared all you want, but she isn’t like that, Lando. Talk to her about this, she’ll reassure you-”

“And how the fuck would you know? You barely know her-”

“I know her a lot better than you do if this is what you think of her,” Oscar’s words cut through the tension in the warm air. Lando flinched like he’d been hit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me from this shitty night out, I’m going to go find your sister and tell her how I feel. Goodbye Lando.”

Oscar didn’t even bother going back inside to grab his coat, he just started walking. Jimmy’s was a 30 minute walk from your regular cinema, and if his calculations were correct, you’d be getting out of the screening just then. 

As he walked he thought about everything Lando had said. It was pathetic, honestly, why couldn’t Lando have just told you how he felt instead of ruining the incredible thing you and Oscar had going with his own insecurities. Maybe he didn’t understand it, maybe Lando just hadn’t experienced what you two had. 

“Oscar?” you walked up to him, smiling. 

“Hi,” he answered, stopping in his tracks.

“How are you?” you asked, awkward tension filling the air.

“I’m… I’m alright. I wanted to talk to you,” he explained. 

“Talk away,” you smiled. 

“Well… Lando and I had this big blow up argument, and I made a choice. I don’t care what he wants anymore, and if he has a problem with me loving you, then it’s his problem, not ours. I want you back Y/n, more than anything. I miss you every fucking day. And if the only reason we’re not together is because of him, then I’m forgetting how he feels. I want you back if you’ll have me.”

You stood there, shocked. It had been 4 months since you and Oscar had broken up. You loved him, but you loved your brother too. You couldn’t put your relationship with your brother at risk for Oscar, could you? Lando had been for you throughout your childhood, a constant. You wouldn’t be able to handle him not being there, would you? “Oscar, when did you two argue-?” “30 minutes ago?” he shrugged, a soft smile on his lips. 

“I-oh wow. Osc, you know I love you, but Lando’s my brother and… I can’t betray him, can I?”

“Is it betrayal?” Oscar questioned. 

You’d been trying to figure out for the past 4 months why it was betrayal, yet you came up blank every time. Lando had dated friends of yours, and broken their hearts, why shouldn’t you return the favour? “But he said it was. He’s my brother Osc… I can’t just… ruin our relationship-”

“He ruined ours!” he sighed, exasperated. “All because he’s a insecure prick, no offence-” “None taken-” “And he was scared you’d stop picking him over me, which I understand but like, for fuck’s sake, he could’ve just spoken to you about it!” 

You thought for a moment. What did you want? Oscar. Always. You woke up thinking about him, fell asleep thinking about him, dreamt of him. He was everything you’d ever wanted.  “Are we really going to do this Osc?” you whispered into the darkness of the night. 

His lips turned into a smile, and then they were on yours. He’d gotten the girl, he’d gotten the win, and he didn’t care what anyone else said.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[cupcakeslushie]

First || Prev || …

Here’s the next part of the Kendratello AU! I knew it was going to be very dialogue heavy, so I figured writing it out would be fast, but I’m so ready to be done with it that I’ve not really beta read it. So I apologize for any errors. But enjoy!

Splinter loves his sons, but these last few days have been eating away at his already shriveled and fraying nerves. Watching his children ambling around their home, for months, each in varying states of anxiety, fear, and distress, hasn’t been easy on his old heart.

They’ve been through so much, experienced more hardships than Splinter has ever wanted for them. But the latest crucible tearing his family apart was caused, not by some ancient demon, or world-ending threat—but a fiendishly smart, young woman.

One who’d kidnapped his son and replaced him with a stranger that Splinter hardly recognized.

The bitter tale is too familiar for the old movie star to painlessly swallow. It seems fate played such cruel tricks sometimes. Always seeming to strike harsher the second go around. With outcomes even more brutal and painful. His son was stolen by a hateful, sadistic woman, and kept locked away, until she was satisfied with the new toy that emerged from the shadows.

So it stands to reason how…relieved Splinter had been that one, early morning. When his three sons had pulled Purple into his bedroom, piling into his bed, nothing but wide eyes and panicked shouting; one over the other. Looking back now, he can recognize how short-sighted his quick relief had been. But in the moment, as a father, Splinter had only seen this new, strange development as a blessing.

Donatello might have been confused, and irritated with his brother’s manhandling, but Splinter could clearly see more life in those eyes than he’d witnessed in months. Splinter had shushed the rest, and spoken to Purple directly, finally getting a better grasp on what his sons were shouting about.

Amnesia.

So, of course, relief. Because how could forgetting all those horrible, tortuous weeks in that woman’s grasp, possibly be a bad thing? By some miracle, Splinter’s boy had been returned to him. Nowhere near that frail ghost of Donatello, which Splinter would sometimes find curled up on the floor of his own lab, screaming Kendra’s name and sobbing to be returned to her care.

He had been spared all of that, like it never happened. Their family had been handed a gift, and Splinter truthfully wasn't interested in the whys of it all…

Until Michelangelo chose to contact Draxum, and words like “brain damage” and “tumor” were thrown into the mix.

An entire day of testing yielded…varying results. They were able to rule out the scariest of options. No dark shadows were seen in the X-rays of his son’s beautifully brilliant brain, and no concerning squiggles were pointed out by the Hidden City doctors who studied the fast moving waves appearing on the EEG. It was all a bunch of nonsense to Splinter, but Donatello nodded like he agreed, when he was handed the papers over to inspect himself.

Everything was normal, physically.

That left the most difficult part of the day. Getting his son to speak to a psychiatrist—seriously, and without snarking back at every possible question he would eventually be asked.

Draxum had thankfully picked a good one. Briefing her beforehand on…everything. She seemed prepared for Purple’s special brand of cynicism. The sheep yokai was apparently at the top of her field.

A tentative diagnosis of “dissociative amnesia” had been given, along with a small number of pamphlets and printouts. The doctor had informed Splinter that certain treatments might improve Donatello’s situation, but no cure had been discovered for something like this.

They would just have to take things one day at a time. And they’d been doing so well. Almost like everything was back to normal.

Splinter had become very good at ignoring that pending feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He smiled at his sons every day onward, like nothing was wrong. And all of them, in return, began falling back into a more comfortable ease around each other. The stress had just been starting to loosen in Red’s shoulders and jaw. Orange was giving real, honest smiles again. And Blue was no longer a shadow around corners, hiding from Purple like a bomb he was scared to set off.

But the other shoe that had been the root of Splinter’s dread, finally dropped, and the rug was pulled from under their feet once more, violently, with no warning.

Even after they’d managed to calm Donatello down. There was no negotiating the terms of his reality, and he was stubbornly convinced that the world around him was fabricated. Without caring about the consequences, he refused to be civil towards any of them, treating them all like jesters in a play, where no one had the script.

The family’s usual process for dealing with Purple’s anger–letting him cool off alone in his lab until he collected his thoughts–was unfeasible this time around.

Splinter didn’t think he could ever forget the image of his son, turning the knife he held in his hands inwards, and threatening to end his own life.

No; leaving him alone was not an option.

Which led back to Splinter’s previously mentioned frayed nerves.

Four days into this new, stressful change, and his genius son was still managing to find creative ways to sneak past their watchful eyes. Six attempts, in total. Each time, caught with seconds to spare, and just as traumatic for everyone involved.

Raphael and Michelangelo at the moment, were going through their home, removing every sharp implement they could find. Anything that could possibly be used to “put an end to the loop” that Donatello was convinced he was stuck in.

While the two performed their important task, Blue and Splinter had the harder of the two jobs; watching Purple.

Splinter was currently sitting comfortably in his chair, but it was far from his usual level of relaxation. Despite plenty of bean bags to occupy, the twins were locked in a shoving match. For some reason, they were fighting over the single, smallest one they must’ve owned.

“If you don’t get out of my personal space, I swear to Oppenheimer you will regret it, Leonardo!”

“And I swear to Ryan Renolds, that I’ll shred all of your softest hoodies if you kick me in the nuts one more time!”

“That Barbenheimer joke doesn’t even make sense, you idiot, that was Ryan Gosling!”

“Who mentioned Barbie? I’m talking about Deadpool and Wolverine!”

“What does that movie have to do with anything?!”

“Fuck dude, what did I just say about nut shots!”

“Then get out of my kicking radius, and your non-existent nuts will be safe!”

“BOYS!”

Both his sons quickly pause their arguing, giving their father their undivided attention.

“Leonardo, go help your brothers.” Splinter demands. “I will watch Purple. He has not had a moment of free time from any of you in days, and it is clearly wearing on all of us.” Blue gives his father one of his patented unimpressed stare downs.

“No offense, Pops, but how is you watching him, any different than me?”

“Because I will sit in my chair, and Purple will scroll on his phone, and there will be quiet.” Splinter can’t stand the bickering any longer. He knows both his sons will benefit from this time apart. It’s just convincing Blue of that.

Donatello’s gaze is boring holes into the back of Leonardo’s head while his second oldest son matches Splinter’s scrutiny. The rat can see the need for some fresh air battling against Blue’s desire to stay close. But Leonardo is his sharpest son, and even he can admit that his constant presence has become too grating for his brother.

“You need to watch him like a hawk, Dad,” Leo glares at his twin out of the corner of his gaze, “sometimes you can get a little…distracted.”

The new projector, playing Splinter’s same old programs, flashes against the curtain hung on the wall. The volume is set to low, but Blue still looks pointedly between his father and the screen. Splinter doesn’t blame him for his concern, so he tries to put all the gravity he can into his tone, enough that when he does promise to stay vigilant, it seems to convince Blue to place his trust in him.

Purple stays quiet through the exchange, only breathing a sigh of relief once his brother is long past the threshold of the den. He looks ready to lean back into his hard won pillows, but Splinter realizes that Blue had something of a point. Donatello is positioned quite far from him, and he’s suddenly nervous about catching something in time.

“Purple, how about you come sit with me.” Splinter suggests it kindly but firmly, and with a smile– so his son can’t refuse. He pats the bit of cushion next to his legs, “I will honor my promise to leave you alone, but I would be much more relaxed if you were within my reach.”

His boy merely blinks at him, blank faced, and staring at the very spot that Splinter has just created for him.

It isn’t as though his recliner is small, even if Splinter himself is. Donatello had custom made it for him, after one too many complaints about his old brown one hurting his back. It practically swallows Splinter, but remains just stiff enough to provide plenty of support for his lower back. He could even lay sideways and still have some space to stretch.

Splinter recalls very clear memories of all his sons fighting for a spot by his side when they were younger. But it has been some time since those days…perhaps Donatello thinks he’s far too old for such a thing as sitting by his aging father. Yoshi remembers himself at eighteen, and shudders. He’s forever thankful that no matter how lacking his parenting skills might have been, that his boys are kinder to him than he ever was to his Jiji.

Donatello pulls at some invisible thread of his black leggings. Since this new alteration of his memories, Purple has taken to wearing more layers. It’s nearing fall, but not nearly cold enough for the large sweatshirt, black leggings AND socks that his son is currently donning.

Splinter just barely hears Purple murmur a jumbled, “Huh?”

Splinter catches some sort of emotion actively being suppressed behind the bewildered shock at his offer, but it’s hard to tell what it is. Over the years Splinter is ashamed to say, he has grown very bad at reading his own children. Especially Purple, who, if he was being honest, has always been very hard to decipher.

Splinter starts to think the offer will be rejected, when Purple finally climbs to his feet and ambles slowly over. The unknown emotion skittering at the edge of Donatello’s expression morphs into something closer to suspicion. This one easy to identify, especially when it practically drips from his next words.

“Trying to endear yourself to me won’t sway me into falling for your tricks.”

The barb is said just as unkindly as everything else Purple has thrown at his family these last few days. Splinter lets it slide off him like water. He knows his son would (probably) never speak to him like that if he wasn’t stuck in such a painfully clear mode of survival and uncertainty.

“Yes, yes.” He says, untroubled. “Come sit and I can finally lean my chair back.”

Donatello watches him the entire time as he cautiously settles into his spot. He yelps when Splinter grabs his ankles and pulls his son’s long (thin, still much too thin) legs across his lap. For an instant, Splinter freezes, growing worried he’s overstepped. The act had been done without a thought. It’s the way Purple has always liked to sit, finding it more comfortable than any other way. Donatello preferred to keep his distance. A deviation from his siblings, for sure.

Michelangelo would press as close as possible, two sides smushed together like a hug, only without the constricting limbs (though, if Orange were ever to fall asleep in Splinter’s chair, those too would eventually find their way to catching him in their hold).

Leonardo preferred to sit on the arm of his chair, never staying still for long enough to find a comfortable position. But when he slumbered, after a long night of binge watching Novela’s with Splinter–he would curl up, head in his father’s lap, limbs held tight to his body. Like he was afraid even that was asking for too much.

Raphael, his poor, eldest son, hadn’t sat with him in so long. Splinter could still remember a little turtle tot in red, climbing up and splaying out onto his lap when he needed a good cry–or just a moment of peace from his much too loud siblings. Sadly, it wasn’t long before his Red was too big, and his father too small to provide such a refuge. The last time Raphael needed consoling; after the Krang, Splinter had been forced to climb up onto his own son’s knees in order to reach and wipe away his tears.

In the few rare instances of Purple seeking out physical touch, this was all he would allow. Legs stretched over his father’s lap, but his upper body was always off limits. Pulled just far enough away from the threat of any sort of long term contact.

Splinter used to wonder if Purple was scared to ask for anything more, like Leonardo, or if he thought depriving himself of a comforting hug would make him seem stronger, like Raphael, or even the rare times when Michelangelo wished to appear more mature and refused to be comforted. Eventually, Splinter caught on to the truth. His son was asking for comfort, in his own unique way. He was content with the minimal amount of closeness, as long as he felt like he was able to dictate the terms.

But one thing Purple would always allow his father to do, was loop his fingers around his ankles. Trusting the grip would hold his legs in place and keep him stable. He once said the pressure was small enough that it wasn’t overwhelming, but strong enough that it could ground him when everything became too much.

Even now, the act of reaching out to pull his son’s long legs up had been so instinctive. When Splinter looks over and sees the uncertainty still on Purple’s face, he knows he’s pushed too far too quickly.

It’s a risky move, but he’s already pushed, and it’s something that never fails, not once since he’s discovered it.

Purple has always been the most ticklish of all his brothers. Another thing that never really helped his sensory issues. But Splinter long ago discovered that there was a particular spot, which could always earn him a giggle and a brighter smile.

Splinter grips the meat of Donatello’s right knee and jiggles it back and forth. The silly action seems to do the trick and knocks something loose in his son’s overwrought head. His gamble pays off spectacularly, and Splinter is overjoyed to see a small smile erase most of the uncertainty clouding Donatello’s face. It isn’t a full peal of laughter, but the wariness makes way for something softer, and the huff of air from his nose is just as rewarding as a full body laugh.

His boy rests his shoulder and head onto the cushioned back of the chair and Splinter presses the button that will lift up the leg rest, and recline them both into a more restful position.

After a few moments of quiet, Donatello slowly pulls his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. Even without looking directly at him, Splinter can feel his son watching and waiting for the reprimand he thinks will come. Instead, Splinter raises the volume of his show just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to completely shatter their peace. He wants to make Purple feel more at ease; like he’s not being constantly surveilled–not providing more overstimulation.

They sit like that for some time. Splinter rubs a thumb back and forth across the meatier part of Donatello's calves. He’s learned that repetitive touch is the best kind of grounding technique for Purple. The patterned motion always worked to calm his nerves.

Even still, after only so long Splinter catches Purple lowering his phone.

He keeps his own gaze forward, locked on his commercials. Splinter can see, without looking, that his son is studying him, trying to take apart something in his mind that he doesn’t understand. Splinter allows him all the time he needs to gather his thoughts.

Finally Purple speaks, “Dad…?” It’s so quiet, if Splinter hadn't been waiting for it, he might’ve missed it.

He pauses the repetitive kneading for just a moment, squeezing his hold, and humming in order to prompt his son to continue his thought.

“Can I tell you something?” The inquiry is whispered to him so delicately. It takes everything in him to keep his face open and soft and his movements steady. It’s clear that Donatello is trying his best to remain aloof, but his gaze is locked on his hands that are settled in his lap, the fingers of one pulling on the digits from his other.

At some point he must’ve put his phone completely away. Splinter feels the pressure of having Donatello's complete focus aimed at him.

The tugging intensifies. Splinter wonders if he should reach out, but he’s not sure how well that would be received. It doesn’t look painful just yet.

“I don't know what Kendra is accomplishing by showing me this.” Donatello growls, suddenly digging his palms into his eyes like he can still feel the weight of the screen blocking his vision. “Trying to make me happy, only to rip it all away from me? Or attempting to make me feel, even more like a useless burden than I was?”

It’s the first crack in his armor that Purple has shown in days. A clear sign that he was not as unaffected by Kendra’s lies as he’d been trying to project. Donatello sighs, but as it dies out Splinter thinks it sounds closer to a sob.

“You can’t tell the others…” Donatello looks at him with wet, desperate eyes, and it’s unclear if his son still doubts who he’s speaking to, but Splinter works to ease his fears all the same.

“I swear, whatever you tell me will remain between us, alone.”

Donatello nods faintly, eyes trailing downwards once more. Splinter may have had trouble before, but now the many emotions jumping across his son’s face—fear, shame, frustration, all are easy to catch.

With a shaking breath he whispers his secret. “I lied.” He’s crying now, real tears that he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. The pulling at his skin grows more violent, and Splinter finally interferes to carefully pry Donatello’s hands apart before damage is done. In place he cradles his son’s hands like delicate porcelain and runs a thumb over Donatello’s palm.

“I told everyone that I could tell. That I wasn’t being fooled, but that’s not exactly true. The last few loops have…it’s been getting harder, and harder to remember things— how they really happened. Too much is…plausible.”

Splinter keeps silent. This confession has clearly been weighing on Donatello. He deserves to get it all out, and hopefully feel lighter for it. Even if Purple suspects the family, something is letting Donatello open up enough for him to share his fears.

“There was one loop…Mikey broke…he broke the remote…When I said I didn’t have time to fix it. He threw the pieces at my head. He would never do that, though…right?”

“No, of course not,” Splinter answers immediately, quick to banish the doubt from his son’s mind. Donatello only blinks at him, like his thoughts are moving too slow, and cannot comprehend such a simple, stark contradiction to what he experienced.

“It felt so real…it all feels so real. But…I could feel how one of the sharp, broken corners had cut through my mask and how the wet fabric stuck to my skin with blood.”

Donatello raises a hand and touches the spot where the phantom wound must’ve sat. The pain now gone, but the memory of it haunts his eyes and rattles the tremors building in his hands.

“I thought…I thought I was handling this—maybe not well…But I’d hoped I would be strong enough to last until you all came for me…And now Raph is saying it’s already over.”

It’s a simplified form of the truth which they had tried to get Purple to believe, but even that much clearly doesn’t sit well with him. “If it is over, why does my body feel like one massive bruise? How did you all find me? How long did I last? Was I in there long enough to…?”

He’s clearly scared to ask Splinter any more questions, so he trails off, curling in on himself and pulling his hands up to his chest, pressing there, as if checking to make sure he feels something still beating.

Splinter decides he’s waited long enough and slowly pulls Donatello out of his hunched ball and guides his head to his own chest, making sure his ear is aligned against his own pulsing heartbeat.

Donatello resists slightly at first, but the moment he’s close enough to catch the sound, his breath catches and he glues himself to the spot.

“I don’t want to be there anymore,” Purple murmurs. It sounds like sleep is catching up with his son, the exhaustion pulling him down and slurring his words.

Splinter cups the back of Donatello’s head and carefully tug his fur lined blanket down from where it’s been sitting on the back of his chair. The blanket slots over the both of them and Donatello curls even closer to his father, tucking himself into his warmth.

“Go to sleep, when you wake up, you will be right here.” He’s sure to say it softly but with as much reassurance as possible, and Donatello seems too tired at this point to hold onto his doubts.

“Okay…,” Donatello mutters. Then, practically hanging on to the waking world for one final query hesitantly asks, “…Dad?…Do you love me?”

Splinter doesn’t even think. “Of course, my son.”

Donatello’s breathing finally evens out, and Splinter feels a few tears finally escape.

He’s not sure what next steps they should take, or what kind of state his son will be in when he wakes, but Splinter can only hope this is progress. He prays it won’t be undone…but regardless, Donatello is home. Any steps back or forward will be taken together, and that is the most important part.

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ DO YOU MIND? ❞

— minors dni, suguru x gn! reader (established rs), ft. satoru, voyeurism, oral [ m. receiving ], pining?, some stsg if you squint at the end :3, barely proofread 🫣

gojo tends to show up at the most inopportune moments.

…like now, when suguru is balls-deep in your mouth.

your boyfriend watches, utterly flabbergasted, as gojo settles into the other patio chair and then blinks at him with a casual, blue-eyed stare. it’s nonchalant, careless…as if this is all normal.

you begin to pull off of suguru’s length before he stops you with a steady hand on the crown of your head. your eyes widen, lashes fluttering for a quick second before a strange sense of normality washes over you, and your body relaxes. whatever gojo is up to, you’re confident suguru will handle him with ease, as per usual. after all, this wouldn’t be the first time his best friend has walked in on you two during activities like this, though he usually doesn’t take a seat with the apparent intent on staying throughout.

suguru takes a long, thoughtful drag of his cigarette, eyes narrowing. “…do you mind?”, he asks and quirks a brow.

gojo just smiles at him. “huh? oh, no, i don’t mind.”

a couple seconds pass and suguru has to wonder if he’s actually having this conversation. “are you actually insane—“

“god, what’s the big deal?” gojo groans, interrupting the once-hushed, midnight serenity in his typical, obtrusive fashion. shifts in his seat and suguru finally notices the bulge between his spread legs. his jaw just goes slack in utter disbelief.

suguru is not distracted for long. with a flick of your tongue, you bring forth a grunt from your boyfriend’s lips, back to bobbing along his length in a craving for his creamy release down your throat. suguru can’t and wouldn’t bring himself to stop you. the situation is far past strange but, if you’re determined to continue, and gojo being a fucking weirdo doesn’t bother you, then that’s fine by him.

he sighs. “whatever.”

not even a second passes before there’s a clink of metal, and suguru watches as gojo begins pulling his own cock from his pants.

“satoru, what in the f—“

“shhh.”, gojo hisses at him, and suguru raises two astonished brows. “i’m trying to enjoy the show.“

the dark-haired man is genuinely stunned into silence. it takes a moment before he catches his bearings, tossing gojo an unamused look and leaning back to rest in his own chair. “fine, whatever, just shut up while you do it.”

suguru rolls his eyes at gojo’s victorious grin, before pulling his dying cigarette back up to his lips and billowing out another cloud of smoke. whatever. with everything going on, it’s easy for him to block out any trace of gojo, anyway, and just focus on you.

a bold smell of tobacco wafts through the air, filling suguru’s nostrils as the nicotine finishes off any remnants of stress in his body. the sloppy, wet noises of spit and pre, of you eagerly sucking him down your throat. the curious feel of your hand massaging his balls while the other twists and jerks off whatever can’t fit in your mouth. yeah, it doesn’t take a single drop of effort for suguru to forget that his best friend is jerking off to the sight of you.

someone else is properly taking the time to admire every detail of the view before him. the moonlight rays gleaming off of you and his best friend, casting a gentle glow on the lewd scene. suguru’s head tossed back with locks of black framing his face, a red blush visible across his handsome features even with the limited lighting. and you, god, you. gojo eyes the hand on the back of your head, threading through your hair. suguru has a gentle grasp for the most part, sometimes shoving you down to his base, and gojo’s cock throbs longingly at the gags you let out before being released again. so cute, so pretty, doing your best to take his friend’s fat cock all the way in, only to come up a few inches short every time. it’s obviously a struggle, and yet you still try your best, so keen to swallow every inch. so eager to please.

globs of clear precum dribble out and over gojo’s tip, making for slippery strokes as he gives his bobbing cock a squeeze. though it’s hard, difficult, excruciating—especially with suguru’s own grunts and moans calling out into the night—gojo doesn’t want to risk interrupting this moment. it feels improper and rude, akin to shouting during a performance.

as he admires you both, gojo begins to feel this abrupt sense of jealousy. whether it comes from wanting to be in your place or suguru’s, he cannot decide.

💜: @anthoosies @staryukis @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase @satoruxx @hellkaiserinphoenix @astral-hydromancy @bookswillfindyouaway @rosso-seta @sugurubabe @soraya-daydreams @bubblez-blop @arthurschneider @venzlenes @khaothick @haruchiy0 @sillysushi @risuola @hobarihope @crocodilethesir @starlightanyaaa @reodiaries @spicana @lovley212 @katharinasdiaryy @ninikrumbs @imaniitheoneee @luvr-exe @snackeyalleyjuice @apatauaia @trafalgarrattata @sataraxia @elleflying07 @toptierbunny @purplegemadventures @whokilledvivi @getouolgy @exinqiu @flvffybunny @leilalilox @babytoshiii @idkluvv @froggkat @princ3ss-juicy @starsharkz @zzzlevislothzzz @sugu-love @peachyaone @squishies0102 @ivy-vivii @mynahx3 @ratedrrrr @ha-zel-art @hongsxn @tryn-ity @rubyredish @higuchislut @mochi-islive @shhinigamii @insanebiitch @shinninglightning

[im-sleepdeprived]

Can you write something about co-workers to friends to lovers?

fix you up

pairing: peter parker x reader

a/n: i won’t lie to y’all idk how i feel abt this one. its cute dgmw but i hope you guys like it !!! ive had this request for an EMBARRASSINGLY long time, anon if you’re upset, i totally understand

warnings: mentions of injuries, burns, rude customers, bandaging some wounds n stuff, fluff and pining !!! (disclaimer: I’ve never been a barista so forgive me if this is a lil off)

masterlist, requests are open !!

Working in a rustic-vintage-corner-campus-cafe was definitely not how you saw your college years going. Your teen self would’ve killed to work at a place like this but when you grew up, you realized just how different the workload is between a high school student and a uni one such as yourself. 

You weren’t complaining of course. The pay was adequate, your manager was a simple old lady who never had much to say other than making sure all the equipment was clean, you got along with your coworkers pretty well for the most part and the customers were tolerable. 

But every once in a while, you’d get an entitled shithead who seemed to make it their life’s mission to ruin someone else’s day. And the problem with working a social job such as you did, is that you were an easy target. 

It started off as a fairly simple day, you clocked in and put on your apron ready to start your shift for the day. You preferred late morning shifts, leaving afternoons for classes (and the rouge 8am lecture every now and then) and nights for going out or studying. 

“Oh, Y/N! Thank god you're here,” Your co-worker, Vanessa, exclaimed.

Vanessa was a few years older than you. She actually wasn’t a student, she’d given college a try and it wasn’t her thing. Apparently, all it did was “try to undermine unstoppable greatness.” She was chatty, but you actually liked that about her. She could keep up a conversation with a statue. When you first started off here she’d been the one to show you the ropes and ever since then, you’d had a specific bond with her that you couldn’t really put a name to.

You gave her a small smile, “Yeah well, I do prefer to show up when promised. Especially when my paycheck depends on it,” you let out a small laugh.

“Yes! See, that's what I love about you,” she made a disgusted face, “Unlike Peter. Honestly, I don't understand how he hasn’t been fired yet! He shows up at least half an hour late to every shift yet Miss Hannigan still keeps him around.”

“Oh,” you stuttered, raising your hands a little in defense, “I didn't mean it as a jab at Peter, I swear.”

She tossed a curled blonde lock of hair over her shoulders while waving her other hand in dismissal, “Honey, don’t worry about it. I know you would never, you’re far too sweet for that. But I wouldn’t blame you if you did, you know, having to work more than half your shift alone? I swear if Bernard did that to me,” she made a big show of gesturing to herself, "I would not deal with it.”

While what she was saying wasn’t necessarily wrong, it didn’t feel right talking about Peter like that. Sure, he was late most of the time, leaving you to do most of the work while you waited for him to show up (somehow when he started working you two got the same shift together and it’s just been that way ever since) and while you, also, normally wouldn’t put up with this, there was something different about Peter. You never felt like he was taking advantage of you, and purposefully made you pick up extra slack. It was quite the opposite actually, he always apologized profusely and never slacked when he was on the clock. He always seemed so rushed and out of breath, you were pretty sure the poor boy just needed to learn how to manage time better. Plus, he always took it upon himself to unpack the orders because of all the heavy lifting required (you couldn’t tell just by looking at him, with all the sweaters he wore, but man was he ripped.)

“He’s actually really sweet.” You’re not sure why exactly you’re so keen on defending Peter. You two barely spoke, outside of work of course, and you don’t know much about him. But something inside you didn’t like anyone assuming anything bad about him. 

“Yea, well, he’d be a ton sweeter if he clocked in on time,” she laughed as she untied her apron, getting ready to leave. You faked a laugh as well, not wanting the conversation to progress any further. 

“Alrighty, well,” she heaved a breath, “I'm off, have a good rest of your day Y/N.”

You smiled once again and sent a wave her way before settling down in front of the register. It was slow today, not many people in the shop. A fellow student you only recognized from work sat in a corner booth with their headphones locked in and was working on what seemed to be some kind of essay. 

There was an older woman, however, looking incredibly irritated at the table closest to you. You’d never seen her before but that wasn’t too strange. It was a near-campus cafe, after all, lots of people passing through. She looked to be typing on her phone until, suddenly, she shut it off and made direct eye contact with you. 

If looks could kill, you would’ve dropped dead behind the counter, which wouldn’t be all that ideal considering you couldn’t remember the last time anyone mopped that side of the store. 

She stood up and walked towards you and you already dreaded the conversation to come.

“I have an order,” she spit out, as if she were disgusted to even be talking to you at the moment. 

No greeting or anything, wow. Someone wasn’t raised right. 

Nonetheless, you put on your well-rehearsed customer service smile and gave in. “Sure, I’d be happy to help with that. Can you just give me the order?”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I shouldn’t have to, I called in and placed it and it should be ready by now. I'm going to be late!”

You froze for a moment, not quite sure what to do, “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience ma’am, but I just got here and I haven’t heard anything,” you glance at the little whiteboard kept on the counter for these exact situations only to find it empty, “and I don’t see anything here about a phone-placed order. Are you sure you have the right store?”

Her face was so red and steam was practically blowing out of her ears, “Of course, I have the right store! Do you think I'm stupid or something?”

“No! Of course not, I'm so sorry,” you start to blabber off, not wanting to make her any angrier than she already was, “I’ll get things ready for you right away ma’am.”

You turned around and tried to make yourself not freak out as badly as you wanted to. It was so humiliating getting yelled at like this in public! And yeah, maybe if you had such a problem with unpleasant interactions like this, you shouldn't have taken a social job such as this one, but honestly, you thought people would have enough manners not to act up like this. Apparently not. 

It slipped your mind for a moment because of how scrambled you got when the lady flipped her lid, but Vanessa has been known to do this, forget to write down orders and leave you to fend for yourself (quite literally since your coworker was never really around) and you’re pretty sure that’s what happened here. Other customers were usually more understanding than this woman bordering on Kathy-Bates-movie-character-insanity over a drink order. 

You reached into your back pocket, deciding you’d try to send her a hurried text about any phone calls she might remember. That just seemed to anger your customer more.

“Excuse me?! I'm sitting here waiting for my order and you're too busy chatting away on your phone?”

You lose yourself for a moment and you can’t feel your face anymore. 

“I am so sorry ma’am,” you repeat, which seems to be your mantra since you started working today, “I was just checking to see if-,”

“I don't care what you were checking, or what you need to see! Give me what I paid for,” her hand started smacking against the counter loud enough for the only other person in the store to look up, broken from their reverie. They merely shot you an apologetic look before getting back to their work, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“You have terrible customer service, honestly. I come here every Tuesday with my book club, but never again. If I don’t get exactly what I asked for in the next five minutes, I'm calling your boss and not leaving until I'm sure you’re fired.” 

You shake your head, “There’s no need to do that ma’am, I'll get everything ready for you.”

You turned around once again, this time, heading towards the cappuccino machine. You’re not sure why you said that considering you have no clue what ‘everything’ is that has to get ready. 

In all honesty, there’s a low chance that a suburban-white-soccer-mom type would have any real effect on your employment. Miss Hannigan would surely not fire you just because some order forgot to be written down and some customer got pissed. Right?

But you really didn’t want to find out. 

So, you started up the machine and turned to grab a cup. Today, apparently, was just doomed from the start. As you turned to grab one of the cups placed on the shelf over the machine, your hand hit the button that turned on the steam wand. Which was aimed directly at your other hand. 

You bit down the yelp that threatened to escape and jumped back, the back of your hand now searing with pain. Instinctively, your other hand came to cup your injured one, which only made it worse. You fought back tears as you moved to turn the steam back off. 

Inhaling deeply, you took a moment to try to get your mind working again. “Hello?!” Of course. You turned your head and gave her the fakest smile you’ve ever mustered in your whole life. “One minute ma’am.”

You could hear her going off about how she doesn’t have a minute to spare, but you ignored her, trying to think of what the hell you could give her to just get her out of your face. You’d have to guess her order since I wasn’t actually taken. You’d started playing a game with yourself since you worked here, guessing people's drink orders, and you’d say you’ve gotten pretty good. 

You peeked a look back at her. You’d had customers around her age come in before and order, for the most part, the same thing. A plain cappuccino. Seemed like a safe bet.

Swallowing down the pain as best you could, you approached the machine again. This time, taking out the portafilter. It must’ve not been put in correctly because it clattered to the ground, coffee grinds falling around the floor. 

You wanted to cry. Your hand hurt like hell, there was a new mess to deal with, and that lady hadn’t stopped complaining since you stepped in. 

Frozen, you began to panic a little, breaths coming out sporadically. You’d leave the sweeping for later, but you had to clean the filter so you could use it because it was the only one. And the slightest brush of air made your hand burn even more. You had no clue how to go about this. Maybe if you-

Like an angel, Peter rushed in through the side door. Tying his apron around his waist, he looked towards you. Your hand flew up to your mouth at his perfect timing and you saw his expression grow more concerned. 

He rushed towards you. “What happened?” And for a second, you forget everything that was stressing you out just a few moments before. He grabbed your hand so gently, you forgot every ounce of pain. 

“I cannot believe this!” She wasn’t giving up and you shut your eyes in frustration, turning to reply to her again. But before you can open your mouth, Peter steps in. “Hold on, can’t you clearly see she’s hurt?”

She scoffed and crossed her arms, “That’s her fault. If she knew how to do her job, it wouldn’t have happened.”

You could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. His expression hardened and his mouth opened to shoot something back at her, but this time, you cut him off. You placed your non-injured hand on his shoulder and gave him a look. 

He stared at you for a few seconds before finally giving in, blowing out some air in a frustrated huff. “Go wait for me inside,” he told you, nodding his head toward the employees-only backroom. 

“What?” You asked confused. You didn’t wanna leave him alone. 

“You’re not working right now, there’s no way I’m letting you. I’ll deal with her. Go, I’ll be right there,” he said, shoving you away gently.

Once you heard that he’d be following you, you were more willing. You walked through the door and took a seat at the table usually used for meal breaks. The ‘break room’ was a small room positioned in the back of the store. You can’t remember what this place used to be (a diner maybe?) but this specific room was used as an office, but Miss Hannigan claimed she had no use for an office so it was used for employee breaks. 

Every ounce of you was grateful for Peter’s Superman moment back there. He came in today earlier than usual and he’d totally saved your ass. You were going to make sure to tell him. 

You weren’t waiting long before the door opened again and Peter walked in, holding a backpack you hadn’t seen on him before. In his other hand, he held a drink. He placed the drink on the table before he grabbed one of the chairs, bringing it close to yours, and you turned your body to face him. 

He picked up your hand again, just as gently as before. “Alright,” he let out a breath of relief, “it’s not as bad as I thought, but, it’s still gonna take a while to heal. Wait,” he leaned over, unzipping his bag and taking supplies out while you just stared at him.

“I thought you majored in biochemistry.” You blurted out. Your face heated up a little when he looked at you curiously.

“I- I saw your textbooks once when you left your bag open. And I’ve seen you around campus, near the science-y buildings…and stuff.” You shrugged and he chuckled. 

“I do,” he nodded, “any medical stuff is self-taught. I get into a lot of…accidents.”

“Oh.” You nodded at him. What kind of accidents would he get into? You’d never seen him hurt, but what did you know. 

“I take it you don’t major in anything science-y,” he said, grinning at you.

You shook your head, “No, I don’t. But I have a chemistry class I have to take for credit. Which makes no sense because chemistry has nothing to do with what I want to learn.”

He laughed and set his bag back down, everything he needed was now laid out on the table. “Okay,” he picked up a white tube with red lettering on it. “This is gonna help with pain and scarring. I’m going to spread some of this, then wrap it up for you.” You looked at the table and saw he’d also taken out some white gauze. What kind of ‘accidents’ did he get into?

You nodded, at a complete loss for words. You had no idea Peter knew so much about injuries and you were so thankful he was helping you out. You didn’t hate each other, but you weren’t close either.

He applied a small amount to the back of your hand, asking you constantly if you were okay as he rubbed it on softly. Honestly, even if it did hurt, you wouldn’t have the heart to tell him.

He finished up with the cream and moved onto the gauze, expertly wrapping it up to lightly cover your wound. When he was finished with that, he carefully tied it off, making sure not to tie it too tight.

“There,” he leaned back and smiled at you, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “All fixed up.”

 “Thank you, Peter, really.” You reluctantly pulled your hand back into your lap, missing the warmth of his fingers wrapped around it.

“You don’t need to thank me Y/N, it’s the least I could do. I’m just glad I got here earlier than usual.”

You nodded and looked down. “Well thanks anyway, you saved my ass back there. Seriously, I have no idea what’s wrong with me today but I kept fucking everything up.”

“Hey,” he said softly, making you look up and meet his gaze. “You didn’t fuck anything up. Okay? You made a few mistakes, but that's not your fault. She shouldn’t have been treating you like that, especially when you’d hurt yourself.” He looked away and scoffed as he remembered the terrible customer that had ruined your morning. You would’ve felt extremely touched by his care if it weren’t for his next words.

“All that for a plain fucking cappuccino.” He mumbled.

“A plain cappuccino? Really?” You asked excitedly, forgetting about everything, and grinning at him wildly. 

“Um, yeah…why?” He asked you, confusion was written all over his face, but he couldn’t help his own smile slightly growing when he noticed your enthusiasm.

“Nothing,” you shook your head quickly, smile never fading, “I just…well, I play this game with myself where I guess people's drink orders. And I think I’m getting pretty good because that’s exactly what I was going to make her before you walked in.”

He laughed out loud and you joined in. “What’s my order?” He asked. 

You paused for a moment. “A caramel macchiato with extra caramel.”

He looked at you for a bit, “Close,” he admitted. “It used to be.”

“So are you gonna tell me what it is now?”

Shaking his head, he leaned over the table and dragged the drink he’d brought in earlier in front of you. “Here,” he changed the subject, “I made you this.”

You’d completely forgotten about it, and when you took a closer look, you realized it was your coffee order. 

Your mouth fell open, “How’d you know?”

He just shrugged, smiling slightly. He knew it was your favorite, but the confirmation was still nice. “I've seen you make it for yourself. Educated guess.”

“Oh my god,” you said, voice soft. It was a simple thing really, you had one most days at the end of your shift. But the fact that he’d noticed… It just meant a lot. “Thank you so much, Peter.”

He just waved you off, his smile growing when he noticed your reaction to the drink. He couldn’t believe he got a chance to speak to you. Truly speak to you. He was always too awkward or embarrassed or trying to avoid embarrassment. But now, while he didn’t like the circumstances that led you both here, he was actually talking to you. And it was nice.

“So,” he started, not wanting this to end just yet, “you said you’ve got a chemistry class?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, picking up your drink and taking a sip. “The one with Professor Hall. I actually have a class after this shift. I totally suck though, and he hates me. I just don’t get it, and he doesn’t explain it well!”

Peter nodded, completely understanding what you meant. It was a tough subject to begin with, and he knew not everyone was as into science as he was, add onto that a teacher who doesn’t really teach, it’s a recipe for disaster. 

“I actually had that class. Last year. I can help you, sometimes. If you’d like me to, that is!” He rushed out. Great, he thought, now I’m getting awkward. 

You looked up at him, eyes wide. “Really? Do you mean that?”

“Of course. I think I’ve still got my notes too, if you want ‘em.” He shrugged nonchalantly as if he wasn’t saving your ass again. 

“Oh my god Peter,” you placed your non-injured hand on his knee, not noticing the way his body stiffened and he gulped. “That would help so much. There’s a huge exam coming up, and it's a huge part of my grade so I have to pass. I started cramming earlier but—”

“I’ll help,” he reassured you, “I enjoy science anyway, so it’ll be fun for me.”

“Thank you,” you repeated. Staring at him so close, you realized you’d never noticed how handsome he was. Sure there were times you thought he was cute, from afar, but now…you could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, the way one of his eyebrows was slightly curlier than the other, unwilling to sit straight. You couldn’t help but stare-

“Oh my god,” you repeated, except this time, you had remembered something. “If we’re both in here, who’s outside?”

“What? Oh, um,” he scratched the back of his neck, still reeling from having you so close to him. “Freddy’s out there?”

“Freddy?” You asked confused. 

He nodded. “The guy writing on his laptop, he’s friends with my roommate, throws the craziest parties. He’s chill, I told him to keep an eye out if someone else walks in. But it’s been slow, so I think we’re good.”

“Oh, okay.” You said, standing up. “We should probably still go though.”

He stood up beside you, frowning. “I don’t think you should work with your hand hurt. I don’t want you accidentally making it worse.”

Your heart warmed at his concern. “That's really sweet Peter, but I’ll be fine. I don’t know what happened before, I never do stuff like that, even accidentally.”

He still didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t you just go home? I can take it for today.”

You shook your head quickly, “I’m not leaving. I have a class later and it would just be a waste of time going back and forth anyway.”

You walked towards the door, opened it, and exited before he had a chance to argue anymore. You stepped behind the counter while Peter rushed out behind you. You watched Freddy give him a thumbs up and Peter nodded at him before he followed right after you. 

“Are you sure you should go to class today? I can walk you home so you can take the day off,” he offered, and he looked so genuine you almost accepted. 

“Peter,” you laughed and he decided no matter what your response was, it wouldn’t matter because hearing you say his name like that was enough. “I’ll be fine, I didn’t break both my legs, it's just a small burn.”

He stared at you for a bit as you smiled at him, trying to get him to ease up. “Fine,” he gave in reluctantly. “But no going towards the cappuccino machine,” he waved a finger at you, “or the ovens. Or anything hot!”

“Fine,” you shot back, grinning wide and he couldn’t help but return it.

The rest of the morning had gone by easily and you thought maybe you didn’t have totally shit luck. Peter was way more fun than you ever thought he’d be and you wondered why you didn’t start talking to each other sooner. 

It used to be silently working together but after those few moments in the break room, you guys were laughing your whole shift. He meant what he said, and he kept you away from anything that produced heat (which you told him was an insane boundary to set in a cafe) so you had extra time to make quips here and there.

You started playing your order-guessing game with him, teaching him certain traits that gave someone away:

“Side part, beanie, and a crossbody? Oh, he’s getting a tall, dark, americano for sure.”

“She’s getting tea. No coffee, just tea. Maybe with a little lemon wedge.”

And he started to get the hang of it. 

“She looks like she drinks matchas right?” He said to you when a girl around your age walked in. He’d been right and you both laughed about it afterwards. 

When your work shift ended, you were actually upset. 

“I’ve got a class to get to,” you told him, lifting your bag onto your shoulder. You’d both cleaned up and gotten yourselves ready, now standing in front of the door. Something in you didn’t want to leave just yet, enjoying your time together far too much to end it so soon. 

“Yeah…” he trailed off, you waited for him to continue but he hesitated. 

“What is it?” You crossed your arms and smiled slightly, shifting your weight onto your other foot. He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, “I just…well, I was just wondering—if it's okay with you of course!” He rushed out, quickly bringing his hands up. “That I could walk you to class?”

You laughed, “I’d love that Pete, thank you.” You turned to open the door to let you both out but he quickly moved forward, holding it open for you and motioning for you to move forward. 

Looking back at him, you smiled and noticed his cheeks were a little red. How had you never noticed how adorable he was?

The walk back to campus wasn’t long but you learned a lot. He told you where he went to high school, his friends he still kept in touch with, his Aunt May, some funny moments from parties he’d been forced to attend by his roommate, and you laughed together.

You told him about the book you were currently reading, your life back home and your family, and why you chose to go to this college. He went along with your jokes, which made it all the more better for you. “I mean if you think about it,” you'd said, “it is so much easier to romanticize your life  when your school campus is as pretty as this one, and that’s real motivation!”

The conversation flowed naturally between you two and it felt like you’d been friends for ages. He dropped you off outside of your class building with the promise of picking you up afterward so you two could study together. 

“So I’ll be back here in an hour right,” he asked. 

“Right,” you smiled at him. “And thanks again Pete, for everything.” You held up your bandaged hand, shaking it a little before setting it back down. 

He shook his head quickly, “Don’t thank me for that. Really.”

You stared at him with a warm expression. “Bye Peter,” you waved as you turned to walk into your class.

“Bye Y/N,” he returned. He watched you walk through the doors, shooting him one last smile before you disappeared from view, before blowing out a breath of air. 

He’d finally gotten a chance to talk to the girl he’d been crushing on for months, and he got to walk her to class! And they were meeting up afterward. After working so close to you and never having the guts to initiate a conversation, he’d settled for just admiring you from afar. But after today, there was nothing that could keep him away. 

You were not having a good day. 

You’d just found out that your chemistry exam was being bumped up to two days from now. Even with the early studying you’d done before, there was no way you could catch up with everything that fast. You were so overwhelmed you had completely forgotten Peter was waiting for you outside. 

You walked out, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth, and you practically jumped out of your skin when someone placed a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, don’t worry,” he said, his voice soft yet full of concern. Peter. “It's just me. What happened?”

The second he saw you walk out, he could tell something was off. He could literally sense the anxiety rolling off of you in waves. He had waited for you to look up and stop when you saw him, but you were just about to walk past him before he stopped you. Now, you were looking at him with distress coating every feature on your face. Your brows were pinched, your lip red from biting it, and your eyes wide and distant like you couldn’t even see him and he was standing right in front of you. Something had gone wrong and he wanted nothing more than to fix it. 

“What is it? What’s wrong? He asked frantically. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered, hands flying up to the sides of your head and gripping your hair. You weren’t looking at him anymore, “Oh my god.”

“Ok Y/N,” he said nervously, “you’re starting to scare me.”

“Two days Peter!” You looked at him wildly. “Two days! I can’t go over everything in two days, is he fucking insane? I didn’t even know he could do something like that, I mean, can he do something like that? I feel like that shouldn’t be allowed it should—”

You cut yourself off and started pacing back and forth in front of him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna bomb this. And if I fail, it’ll bring my whole grade down! I can’t afford that I—”

“Hey,” he repeated, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder again. “I said I’m gonna help you, and I meant it. So we’re gonna get through this together, even if we have to stay up all night.”

You stared at him, trying to wonder what you’d done in your life to deserve such an angel. 

You shook your head quickly, “I really appreciate that Peter, but I’m serious. There’s no way I can learn everything I need to know that fast.”

You tried to smile at him but it didn’t reach your eyes. 

He grinned, his expression the total opposite of yours. “Well, you’ve clearly never studied with me, so don’t sound too sure yet.”

Another thing you’d come to realize was just how smart Peter was. 

You really should’ve known when he told you he’d taken that advanced chemistry class a year ago. And passed. 

Looking through his notes, you could see his attention to detail. He really wasn’t a slacker in the classroom because everything was clearly laid out here. 

You’d spent that night going over everything and you’d actually started to feel hopeful about it. Peter was a way better teacher than Professor Hall, and it didn’t hurt that he was so cute. He was understanding with everything and was willing to go over any part for as long as it took for you to fully grasp it. 

At the end of the night, he’d undone the wrappings around your hand, reapplied the cream for you, and wrapped it up again.

“It’s doing okay,” he reassured you. “Like I said, it’s gonna take a while, but if it starts hurting or anything, take some medicine. Then find me.”

You were sure you’d just melted into his hands at that moment.

The next day, you couldn’t wait to get through everything and see him again, even if you were going to be talking about chemistry. 

You weren’t scheduled to work at the cafe today, so you’d only get to meet up after both of your classes. 

Lectures were a blur, nothing really catching your attention and you spent most of the time with your phone tucked in your hand texting back and forth with Peter, barely concealing your laughter when he sent you memes. 

It was like that all day, until, finally, you made your way over to his small apartment he shared with one of his friends. 

its very quaint 🤌

(totally NOT what we say to make ourselves feel better about this shoebox)

He’d told you over text, making you laugh out loud as you made your way over there. 

dw🫡 I was one of those kids who used to live in their play tents and hid in random corners and spaces

im totally ready for this

ok but be warned, we do not have a pet!!! they are not allowed per our lease!!! ignore the cat when you come in!!! tell no one!!!

what cat ??

good girl ;)

Your face flushed as you made your way up the steps to his door. You knocked three times and barely had to wait a second before Peter stood before you, holding the door open. 

“Hi,” he said, smiling at you. 

“Hi,” you grinned back. You heard a small ‘meow’ come from behind him and he quickly held up a finger to his lips. You covered your mouth, stifling a laugh as you nodded at him. 

“Come on in,” he said, stepping out of the way to lead you through the door. You stepped in and kicked off your shoes before looking around. It was plain, but that was to be expected really. 

There was a large poster hanging next to their TV, however, that caught your eye. “Big fan?” You asked him, shoving your thumb in the direction of the Star Wars poster. 

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Kind of.”

“Oh. Well, I was just asking because I love those movies. My little brother used to watch them and I got really into it.”

“Oh. I mean—I don’t know what I was saying before I love them too.” He rushed out, making you giggle.

He stayed staring at you for a bit, his eyes rounding out and his mouth gaping a little bit. 

You gave him a small smile, “Okay, well we should-” You let out a small yelp, hands flying to your mouth as you jumped back. 

The living room was small. The only things occupying it were the TV mounted to the wall, and in front of it, was a sofa. And on the sofa, was an unconscious body that you hadn’t noticed until it let out a low groan. You really weren’t sure how you missed it, there wasn’t much else to look at, but they had just been so still. 

Heart beating erratically, you turned towards Peter again, who was looking at you with all the amusement in the world written all over his face. “Was he always there,” you whispered, eyes wide.

He opened his arms, “Well, angel, I really don’t know. Did you see anyone come in?”

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled. “He looks familiar…is that..”

“Freddy.” He finished for you. Right. The dude from the cafe. 

“He crashes here sometimes.” He added.

You nodded. “Alright.”

“Shall we?” He opened a door beside him and looked at you. 

“Right. Yeah, of course.” You walked past him and into his room. You stopped after you entered, taking a moment to look around. His room was simple, with just his bed, a desk and chair, and a dresser perched next to another door you assumed was his closet. 

What really caught your attention, however, were the photos scattered all over the walls. The room was practically engulfed in Peter Parker’s memories, and you really liked it. Without thinking, you approached one wall, walking through them and taking each one in. 

There were some with large groups of people, those looked like school trips. Most of the photos were of the same two people, and based on what he’d told you, you assumed those were his friends. Ned and MJ. 

A lot of the photos contained an older woman, who looked stunning. That had to be his Aunt May. You were shocked by how many photos he had with the Tony Stark. He’d told you he had an internship at Stark Industries, but really, you sorta thought he just went on coffee runs all day. 

And then, you saw a couple shots of Spider-Man. It wasn’t unusual, you knew a lot of people snapped photos of the masked hero when they spotted him around the city. What was unusual, was the quality of the photos. You didn’t know if you’d ever seen such clear photos of him, even on the news, as he was always swinging and in motion. In these, Peter seemed to have caught him at just the right time. You wondered how long it took him to capture the photos.

“Big fan?” You smirked over at him from your spot by one of the Spider-Man photos as you repeated your words from earlier. 

Peter leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, content with watching go over the details of his life. He felt a little naked, like he was bared out in front of you. But…it felt good too. He liked knowing you were learning new things about him, and curious to know more. It filled him with an anxious sort of giddiness.

“You first,” he said slyly.

Laughing, you said, “Well, I don’t see how anyone can hate on the guy. He literally runs around saving lives”

He laughed as he approached you, standing by your side. You’d be surprised. “True I guess.”

“We should get to studying,” you said, breezing past him, your hand brushing his bicep as you did. He sucked in a breath, his entire body feeling electrocuted after that one touch. He wondered how you seemed so normal, laying out your books and papers on the floor beside his bed. 

This was gonna be a long night. 

He cleared his throat and moved to sit across from you, hoping he didn’t look as flushed as he felt. 

After a few moments of him watching you get settled, you heard him start laughing. Looking up you asked, “What’s so funny?”

That only made him laugh harder. “Just thinking about how scared you got before. Did you really not see him?”

You felt your face go hot. “I didn’t! I had no clue he was there, and next thing I know he’s making lawn mower nosies!”

Peter was red in the face now. “The way you flew back,” he said between fits of laughter, “I thought you’d give yourself whiplash.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled at him, picking up one of your pens and throwing it at him. It bounced off without him even flinching. 

You looked down, avoiding his gaze by busying yourself with your papers. 

“Okay I’m ready to be serious now,” he said. The laughter was gone but amusement twinkled in his voice. 

“Great! Welcome back Pete, now hand me that pen, I’m gonna need it.”

Two hours later, you were both sprawled across the floor tossing Chess-Its at one another. 

“Come on!” You threw your arms up in defeat when you threw another cracker at him just for him to catch it again. 

Peter chuckled, “Sorry angel, I’ve just got killer reflexes.”

“Alright whatever,” You rolled your eyes. “Come on, throw some at me.”

You opened your mouth, ready to finally win one round of this nonsense…just for a Cheez-It to hit your cheek and fall to the ground with the rest of your tries. 

Peter laughed while you sat up, reached to grab the box of crackers, and poured some into your hand before putting it back down. 

“Okay, I’m done. I actually want to eat them now.” You said, munching on a cracker and sitting against the side of his bed. 

“Oh come on, don’t be a quitter Y/N/N,” he grinned, leaning over and pinching your cheek. 

You swatted his hand away with your empty one. “M’not.”

He smiled at you before sitting up. “Hit me,” he said, opening his mouth and pointing at it. 

You grabbed a Cheez-It from the palm of your hand and made a big show of trying to get your aim right. Squinting one eye, you stared at him, moving your hand back and forth before tossing it slightly more to the right. On purpose. 

That didn’t stop him from leaning over and catching it in his mouth. 

“I don’t like this game,” you said, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you did,” he said back, munching on his Cheez-it. 

“Sue me,” you told him, brushing him off with a wave of your hand. 

He laughed before he settled down. “How’s your hand feeling by the way.” His voice was considerably softer now, making you smile softly at him. 

“It’s doing great, thank you again, Peter. I would’ve been totally fucked if it weren’t for you,” you told him honestly. 

He shook his head, “Don’t thank me at all Y/N. Hate seeing you hurt,” he mumbled, less to you and more to himself and he stayed staring at your wrapped-up hand. 

“Well don’t worry about that, it doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Yeah?” He looked at you suddenly, like he needed to know you meant it. 

“Yeah,” you nodded at him. 

“That’s good,” he breathed out and your heart squeezed at how much he seemed to care. 

“What's your plan? Y’know, for after school?” You didn’t want to leave just yet, even with your studying done. And you wanted to know more about him. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t taken a certain liking to him lately. 

“Well after I get my degree, I’m going move up a little further in Stark Industries. I’m still undecided on grad school, I think I’ve got everything I need and I’m probably just gonna start saving up to pay off student loans instead of adding on them.”

You nodded at him, “So the Stark internship is going well? No offense, I sort of thought you were their coffee mule.” You grinned at him before popping a Cheez-It in your mouth. 

He scoffed, “No, I’m not. I mean, it did take a while to get them to take me seriously, but I got there!”

You laughed, “Well, very proud of you Pete. That’s super impressive.”

He grinned at you, his face heating up at your words. He wondered if you knew how much it affected him every time you called him Pete. Probably not, but he never wanted you to stop. 

You two stayed like that for another hour or so, time passing by without you noticing at all. You talked about your futures, where you say yourselves after school, and after that. Your admiration for him only grew as you got to know him more. You could talk to him all night and never get bored honestly, you-

Shit. 

A random notification lit up your phone, which lay beside you on the floor, making you take notice of the time. 

You sat up quickly, spitting out curses as you started gathering your belongings and shoving them into your bag. 

Peter sat up as well, helping you get your things together but in a calmer manner than yourself. 

“Relax Y/N,” he said in a soothing voice. 

“Pete I can’t do it.” You turned to him suddenly, dropping everything in your hands. 

“Do what, angel?”

“The exam is tomorrow. I’m not ready! I’m gonna fail, and that one grade, that one stupid grade, is gonna hold me back and ruin everything-”

“Sweetheart look at me,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. His grip was warm and reassuring. “You are not going to fail. And I know this because I’ve spent the last few hours studying with you, and I saw how smart you are, and how quick you caught on. You’re gonna walk in there tomorrow and ace that test, I know you are!

“And if for some reason you don’t,” he continued, “you gave it your best. You tried your hardest and you learned something, which is all that matters in the end. So breathe, stop stressing, and let me walk you home.”

“All that talk as an excuse to ask to take me home?” You snorted, “Peter you shouldn’t have.” Despite your jokes, you took his advice and took a deep breath. He was right, you’d studied your hardest, both with and without his help. All you could do was take the exam and hope for the best now.

He laughed and stood up, holding out a hand once he saw you all packed and ready. “Caught me. So is that a yes?”

You took his hand and pulled yourself up but didn’t let go right away. “If I fail, do we have to stop hanging out? Y’know, with you being a science prodigy and all.”

He laughed again and placed both his hands on your shoulder, staring straight into your eyes. “Never.”

“Ok, well, just making sure. I wouldn’t wanna give you a bad rep in the science community or something-”

You were suddenly cut off from your babbling when he pressed his lips to yours. You froze for a second, unsure what to do, but it didn’t take long for you to catch up and kiss him back. 

He pulled away after a few moments, “Done with the jokes?” His voice was soft and teasing.

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, eyes still closed. “But I think you might need to do that again, just to be sure.”

He chuckled murmuring something that sounded like ‘too cute’ but you couldn’t be bothered to hear when you felt his lips on yours again, this time, expecting them. 

You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and canting your head slightly for better access. He groaned, one arm wrapping around your middle, the other settling on your waist.

You might have pictured kissing him before, just maybe. But none of your daydreaming could’ve prepared you for the real thing. The way his bottom lip covered your top one, the soft breaths exchanged between the two of you, the way he pressed himself further into you when you tugged his hair a little harder. This definitely beat all of your daydreams. 

You could’ve stayed that way forever, and you probably would’ve if Peter hadn’t taken one for the team and pulled away first. 

Or tried to, at least. 

“We should-” kiss. 

“You-” kiss. 

“I need to walk,” kiss, “-you home angel.” He murmured against your lips.

“Okay,” you whispered back but you didn’t move to pull away, and he didn’t push you. The two of you stayed stuck, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, taking in the atmosphere of each other. 

“I should probably go now,” you said softly. Peter hummed in agreement, leaning in to peck your lips gently. 

“It’s getting late,” but your voice is more of a sigh. You don’t know what he’s laced his lips with but each kiss makes you weak in the knees and woozier than the last one.

“God, d’yknow I’ve had the biggest crush on you.” He said, completely disregarding your previous statement. 

That stops you. “What?” You asked him in disbelief. Peter had a crush on you? No way, you would’ve known. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled lightly, “don’t act so shocked. I was always a stuttering mess at work whenever you so much as looked at me.”

True. But you’d just thought he was a bit more on the shy side. 

“I’d seen you around campus before and I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and I still do, but I thought I had no shot in hell with you. And when I got the job at the cafe and saw I’d be working with you? I almost lost my fucking mind sweetheart.” You both laughed a little and you couldn’t help the way your cheeks flamed up because of his words. Did he have any clue what he was doing to you right now?

“So I just sorta kept my distance, y’know? Admired you from afar ‘cause I was too scared you’d reject me. Sadly, it only took you nearly burning your hand off,” he gave you a look and you burst into giggles, him doing you and slightly pinching your waist, “for me to get over myself and actually keep up a conversation with you. But now I’ve got you in my room, kissing me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “lucky you.” You joked as leaned in to press another kiss to his lips. 

“Lucky me indeed,” he murmured before pulling you in even deeper. He dipped you, making you squeal into the kiss. Then he pulled you up, unable to keep the kiss going any longer with how hard he was grinning.

“Oh my god,” you said, laughing breathlessly. 

“A lot more where that came from,” he smirked at you. 

“You know,” you moved to pick up your bag, “for someone who was so scared to talk to me for so long, you sure found the confidence now.”

“What can I say? You make it easy. Once I started I couldn’t stop.” You smiled at him as he gently placed a hand on your arm leading you to the door. The living room was empty now, no one to be found on the couch or otherwise and you wondered where their cat had wandered off to.

You bent over to put on your shoes, Peter doing the same. He stepped forward and opened the door for you, letting you step out before following you and locking the door. 

As soon as he was done with that, you reached over and grabbed his hand. “Hey Petey?” You said lightly. Oh, he was going to melt. From now on, he only wanted you to call him that.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you finally decided to talk to me.” 

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “Yeah? Me too angel.”

The next morning, you awoke in the brightest mood, considering you had a chemistry exam later that day. All you could think about was Peter. You were going to see him later at the cafe and you couldn’t wait. 

You leaned over in bed to pick up your phone. Speak of the devil. 

GOOD MORNINGGGGG❤️

hope you slept well angel, can’t wait to see you today. and you’re gonna totally ace that exam!🥰

seriously you’re going to kick chemistry’s butt

A huge smile bloomed on your face, almost hurting from how wide it was. Usually, you'd stay in bed for a while, scrolling through Instagram or just going through messages or something. Not today, you couldn’t wait to get to work. Maybe Peter was a good influence on you. 

After getting ready for the day, you made your way to the cafe with a little bounce in your steps. The bell jingled above you as you opened the door and for the first time since you’d started working together, Peter was here before you. 

“Hey,” he smiled, holding up your usual drink order and waving it at you. 

“Hi Pete,” you approached his, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. As you pulled away, you could see how quickly his cheeks pinked, making you grin. 

“No ‘Petey’?”

“Didn’t know you had a preference,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling it towards you as you took a sip from the drink and then moved to get dressed for your shift. 

“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck, wishing he could feel your hand on his for just a little longer, “neither did I.”

You laughed lightly as you tied your apron, the sound hitting him like the greatest melody in the world. 

“Okay then,” you walked towards him, stopping right in front of him, “let’s start over. Hi Petey.”

“Hi angel,” he gave you a dopey grin and you returned it. 

“Great, now that we’ve got that figured out.” You patted his chest lightly before taking the drink from his hands and moving away. 

“Hey wait! Where’s my kiss?” He pouted at you and he looked so adorable, you just wanted to pinch his cheeks and kiss him till he begged you to stop.

“We’re at work, we’ve gotta be professional.” You said matter-of-factly. 

He rolled his eyes, leaned against the counter, and crossed his arms. “Professional my ass, no one is even in here-,”

Before he could even close his mouth, the bell jingled, and in stepped a boy about your age. The boy moved to one of the chairs, not moving to order just yet, giving you the chance to smirk at Peter, who just rolled his eyes again. 

“What do you he’s gonna order,” he asked you.

“Hmm…a cookie, probably.” You moved lean against the counter across from him and took a sip of your drink as you smiled. 

“Hey wait, you never told me what your drink order is.”

“Hmm…” he hummed in consideration before he moved towards you, grabbing your hand with the drink and bringing it up to his lips to steal a sip, maintaining eye contact the whole time. 

“I’ve got to say,” he said in a low voice, “this one has really grown on me.”

You couldn’t look away, all you could do was stare. And stare, and stare, and stare…

A stranger’s voice, and then, “Hey, can I get one of those double chocolate chip cookies?”

You were just on cloud nine today. 

You had taken your exam and for the first time ever in that class, you had felt confident in your work. 

And to top it all off, after you’d handed in your paper and packed your things to leave, Professor Hall had given you a ‘well done’ nod. You! He’d never noticed you positively before. You were going to need to drown Peter in thank-you kisses for his help. 

Speaking of Peter, you couldn’t wait to see him. He told you he’d be waiting for you after your class but when you stepped outside, there was no sign of him. You decided to sit on the building steps and wait. He was probably just running a little late, no biggie. 

Big biggie. After 40 minutes of waiting for him, during which you’d sent him a little text and he hadn’t responded, you decided to head over to his place. 

The walk was short and your little buzz had worn off after not getting to share it with Peter. After all, you kind of owed him most of the credit. You arrived at his apartment door, and when you knocked, it wasn't Peter who answered. 

It's Freddy. 

You throw on a smile. “Hi Freddy, is Peter home?”

He returned your smile as he said, “‘Sup Y/N.” He held out his fist and you stared at it for a while before you got the hint and bumped it with your own. “Pete’s not home right now, but you can totally come in and wait for him.”

You found it funny that someone who didn’t live there was inviting you in to stay, but you accepted anyway. You also had no clue how he knew your name. 

You knew little about Freddy, but you knew he was sort of a campus celebrity. Every raging party there was, everyone knew Freddy was behind it. 

“So,” you said as you walked in, “what year are you in Freddy?”

“Ah nah, I’m done with that shit. I took the bar,” he said casually, waving a hand and moving to sit on the couch. He kicked his feet up on the large Amazon box being used as a coffee table and picked up the open beer sitting atop it. 

You stood in your place, clutching your bag. He was in grad school?

“Oh that’s awesome dude, did you not pass or something.”

“Uh uh,” he shook his head, taking a swig of beer, “got a 350.”

Your eyes widened. What. You didn’t know much about law school but you knew getting a score like that on the bar was not an easy thing. 

“Wait when’d you take it?” You asked confused. The bar exam wasn’t scheduled for a few months from now. 

“Last year.”

“Do you like…work at a firm or something?” It was insane to you that the party animal of this school had already graduated, and with an amazing score nonetheless. 

He shook his head, “Workin' on my music right now, and if that doesn’t work out,” he gave you a wicked grin, “well I’ve always got my law degree.”

You nodded, stunned. “That’s sick dude. Good luck,” you told him, waving as you moved to wait in Peter’s room. 

“Keep the door cracked kids,” he shouted towards you and you huffed a laugh as you entered the room and closed the door (leaving it open just an inch) before you sat at the foot of his bed. 

You looked around for a second, taking it all in. It’s amazing how he managed to take this small space and make it so him. 

After a few moments, you took out your phone to shoot him another text. 

But before you could finish typing it out, the window beside you started opening and you watched as the Spider-Man fell onto the bed, not noticing you gaping right next to him. 

You stayed silent, unsure of what to do or say until he moved to take his mask off. That got you moving and talking. 

“Holy fuck!” You basically shout, moving away, hands flying to your mouth. 

He seemed to be just as shocked as you were because he scrambled up from his lying position. And staring back at you was Peter Parker. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked you, eyes wide. It wasn’t till then that you noticed the paleness of his features, his face lacking that usually healthy glow it held, the waver in his voice, and the hand clutching his bloody side. 

“Holy fuck,” you repeated, voice lower, and for a whole different reason this time. “Shit Peter, you’re hurt.” You moved closer to him, temporarily forgetting everything else as your hand reached to gently remove his so you could take in the extent of his injuries. 

“It’s nothing,” he said but made no move to shove you away or stop you. You moved his hand and winced at the sight that greeted you, “Looks like a whole lot more than nothing babe.”

“I’ve had worse.”

You look up at him, frowning slightly, “Not exactly reassuring Petey.”

“I feel all better now,” he said, shooting you a charming grin as soon as he heard the nickname leave your mouth. “Add a kiss in the mix, and I’ll be good as new.”

You huffed a laugh, shoving his knee slightly, “Shut up Peter. I’m serious. I’m sure you’ve got some experience with stuff like this,” you wave a hand towards his suit and injury for emphasis and he gives you a quick nod. 

“Over there,” he pointed toward his dresser, “top shelf, under the blue sweater.”

You rushed over there, opening the drawer and spotting the sweater he mentioned. “I’m totally stealing that from you someday, this is your heads up,” you told him as you grabbed the large box and completely closed the door before you moved back to his side. 

“You can have anything of mine, Angel. I’m sure you’d look better in it anyway.” His words made you blush, but you tried to ignore them so you could focus on the task at hand. 

Peter, however, found that he really liked watching your cheeks pink up. And he wanted more. 

“Lean against the headboard, now.” You said, trying to be serious again. 

“God, at least buy me dinner first sweetheart.” He gave you the dorkiest smirk you’d ever seen. You just glared at him. “On the other hand,” he said as he moved backward to lean against his headboard, “I don’t need dinner, I’m all yours baby girl.”

This got you to laugh, “Peter, be serious! You’re bleeding out!” You moved to his side, “take this off by the way.” You gestured to his suit. 

He hit the middle emblem of a spider and you watched as it loosened up and fell off his shoulders. You had started pulling it the rest of the way down, gulping when you realized he wasn’t wearing anything else, when he mumbled, “Not a terrible way to go.”

You refused to look up and meet his eyes but he knew he got you. Thank god he was wearing underwear, you realized, and you threw the suit to the side after you’d completely shredded him of it. He was definitely going to need a new one. 

Now completely facing the damage, your stomach churned, and you were hit with the hard truth. “I…I don’t know what to do,” you whispered to him. You wanted to help him, more than anything. This man who’s been risking his life, probably since he was a teenager you realized, as you did the math silently in your head, was hurt and right in front of you, needing your help. And you needed to help him, but you didn’t know the first thing about how to approach a situation like this. You were surprised you could stare at the wound for so long. 

“Don’t worry, I can do it,” he said gently, his bloody hand reaching for the huge first aid kit. 

“No!” You rushed out, grabbing his hand to stop him, “No way am I letting you do that! Just…just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.

Feeling more confident, you grabbed the kit and opened it. Shock coursed you as you realized just how much he went through and your confidence fell right back down where it sprouted from. The bag was full of all the medical tools and supplies you could think of, most of them completely foreign to you, and you realized how privileged you must be to not recognize any of these things. You can’t imagine the ‘worse’ he talked about having earlier. This must be those accidents he was talking about.

“I don’t usually have to use them,” his voice was soft, almost like he was reassuring you, “usually just water and a towel does the trick. Maybe a little numbing cream. And these,” he looked down at his wounds, “some bandages, sure, but I won’t need stitches or anything.”

You let out a breath of relief, you weren’t sure you could’ve handled that. You didn’t trust yourself.

“Okay,” you said, grabbing some wipes. You were going to do this. Based on what he’d told you, he was always stitching himself back up, just to hit the streets again the next day. This time, though, was different. This time you were here to help him, and you weren’t going chicken out of this. Even a little help was better than nothing at all. 

You started slowly, cleaning around his wounds so you could bandage them properly. “You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked you gently. “I totally understand if you need me to do it, angel, it’s a lot if you’re not used to it.”

“No,” you shook your head, your voice steady, “No way. It’s my turn to fix you up.” You told him, looking up to meet his eyes and smiling at him. 

He returned it and you went back to work. 

“So….Spider-Man, huh?” You peeked up quickly in question. 

“Yeah,” he took a deep breath, “it’s a long story. Basically, I was bit by some spider, that shit was powerful,” you laughed a little, making him smile. “And I got some. Of its powers I mean.”

“So you get bit by a spider, that spider gives you powers, and you decide to become a New York vigilante?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” he nodded, and you laughed again. 

“You’re a hell of a guy Peter Parker.” You said, shaking your head slightly. 

“Thank you, I try,” he smirked at you and you laughed again. 

“Okay,” you said, pulling away from his side. He almost whined in protest. Honestly, he wasn’t feeling any pain, not since you’d started worrying about him, and insisting you help him. Peter wasn’t used to that, he was always alone when it came to this part of the job. He’d never minded that before, just one of the things he had to deal with as a superhero, but now that someone else was taking care of him…it felt nice. Really nice. Especially when it was you. 

“Peter?” You looked at him questioningly. Shit. You’d asked him something.  

“Huh? I'm sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He said with wide eyes. He’d gotten too wrapped up in the feeling of being taken care of, not that anyone could blame him though, the girl he’d been crushing on forever was here, in his room, helping bandage him up! It's more than he could’ve dreamed of. 

“It’s okay sweetie,” you said, waving him off assuming he was in pain or something. Really, now he had something new to obsess over. Sweetie? While he was practically naked (albeit injured, but he wasn’t thinking of that right now) in bed with you? God, he could just melt.

“I was just wondering which bandages,” you said, holding up the different ones you’d found in his bag. 

“Oh,” he said lamely, “these ones.” He grabbed a few from you and opened them. 

“Look,” he said, leaning over himself to see his wounds properly, “you’ve got to bring together both sides of the wound, then secure the bandage so that it’s holding it closed.” He talked as he placed the first bandage with you watching and listening with intent. 

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” you said as you took the rest of the bandages from him. You steadied yourself, straddling his thigh as you started placing the bandages down his wound. The biggest gash took about five, your elbow resting on his abdomen as you got lower…and lower. 

Conveniently, you missed the quiver in his breath, too focused on the work at hand, but you didn’t miss the small gasp he let out when your forearm reached right between his thighs. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You said as you pulled away quickly, thinking you’d hurt him. “Did I pinch too hard?”

“No, no angel, you’re fine. Doing a great job actually.” He replied, trying to collect himself. He could not let himself think of that right now. There were more important things at hand. 

“You sure?” You asked him, not looking convinced.

“Positive.” He replied, grabbing your arm and pulling you back in (but making sure to keep you at a healthy distance from his dick). 

You added a few more bandages, most of the cuts only needing one or two, before pulling away again to rummage through his bag. “What do you use on your bruises?”

“This one,” he said, leaning over you and grabbing a tube from the kit. You turned, your lips almost brushing over each other with how close you were. 

“Hi,” you whispered, all thoughts completely flying out of your head as you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss him. 

“Hi angel,” he said smiling softly at you. 

Seeing you debate it in your head, Peter decided it would be easier for the both of you if he did it first. Leaning in, he closed the distance and smoothly took your lips in his. You melted into the kiss right away, feeling like you’d been craving this your whole life when really, you’d just kissed his a few hours ago before you’d left work. 

Your hands were on his bare chest, you could feel every muscle, every move when-

“Wait, you’re hurt!” You pulled away, leaving a pouting Peter in your wake. 

“My lips work just fine angel,” he said, trying to steal another kiss while you tried to avoid him. 

“But..let me finish at least,” you mumbled against his lips, barely getting a chance to pull away after he’d caught you. 

“You can finish, just lemme do this first,” he responded before kissing you again.

“Hey,” you mumbled against his lips. 

He hummed in response, moving to kiss your cheek, your jawline. If he kept this up you might not try to stop him. 

“Did you know Freddy took the bar exam? And passed?”

That got him to pull away. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at you confusedly, “I’m kissing you and you decide this a good time to bring up Freddy?”

“Well, y’know,” you shrugged, “figured it was as good a time as any.”

He scoffed, “Unbelievable.”

You giggled, “I win.” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling away before he could catch you and turn it into more.

“Now lay down, lemme do this,” you said waving the cream at him. 

He moved grumpily and you thought grumpy Peter was the cutest thing ever. The furrow of his brows, the slight pout of his lips. You could just kiss him. And you would’ve if you hadn’t known where it would lead you. 

You unscrewed the cap to the cream and started applying it gently. “So Fred’s a lawyer huh?” Peter spoke up. 

“He is!” You whispered excitedly, glad he was just as shocked as you were. 

“And you learned this how?” He asked, giving you a look. 

You shrugged. “He let me in and I talked to him, asked him a few questions to get to know him better since I see him everywhere.” 

“Wait, he’s here right now?”

“Yeah,” you said slowly, “I thought you knew?”

“No I didn’t-,” he let out a sigh, “whatever it's basically his apartment too at this point I guess.”

You laughed, “And you’re okay with that?”

He shrugged with his good side. “He buys the good beer.”

You laughed again. “He scored a 350 on the bar exam!”

Peter’s brows shot up. “Oh shit.”

“I know! The only thing I knew about him was that he blacked out in that frat house’s pool all night and the cops were called cause someone thought he was dead.”

“Yeah, he’s super lucky he was on his back. Just floated around the pool like a leaf.”

You shook your head, screwing the cap back on the tube of cream, “Crazy. But anyway, I’m done. And on the plus side,” you grinned at him, “if you ever get in legal trouble, you know someone!”

He laughed out loud, and you watched as his face scrunched up and he clutched his side in pain. Apologizing for the joke, you gave him a kiss on the cheek to make up for it. 

“Enough about crazy Freddy,” he let out a sigh, “I’m gonna go put some clothes on, and then I wanna cuddle with my girl.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words and all you could do was smile as he stood up, giving you a kiss on the side of your head before he moved to pick out some clothes.

You watched him get dressed, biting your lip as you watched how his muscles rippled with each of his movements. You always knew he was strong but seeing him like that, was a completely different story. 

“Like what you see?” He asked, smirking at you before he lifted his shirt, holding it up between his teeth as he tied his sweatpants. 

Your mouth fell open. At being caught and also at…how absolutely hot he looked right now. If he wasn’t injured, you would be all. over. him. 

“S’alright angel,” he said as he stalked towards you. He was enjoying this, a lot. “I’m sure I’d be the same if the roles were reversed.”

That did not help. Now you were thinking about being naked in front of Peter and-

He laughed, kissed the side of your head again, and laid down, pulling next to him. 

“Careful Peter, you’re still hurt!” You chastised him. 

He shook his head, “You made me feel a hundred times better. Thank you, angel.”

“Of course Petey.” He smiled at you as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tight. 

“So, you came to see me right? Y’know, before the whole finding out I’m Spider-Man thing. What’s up?”

“Oh I almost forgot,” you perked up, tilting your head up so you could see his face, “I think I totally aced that chemistry exam!”

“Angel! I’m so proud of you!” He started attacking you with kisses, kissing you anywhere his lips could reach. 

You giggled, “Thank you sweetie, but seriously I owe you most of the credit, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Nonsense,” he shook his head, “that was all you. I barely helped, you learned everything and then took that quiz, and aced it.”

“Well I haven’t gotten my grade back yet, I just have a really good feeling, so don’t sound too are there's a chance I didn’t do as well as I thought.”

“Nope,” he said, popping the p. “I have a sense, a spidey sense. And my spidey sense is telling me that you totally aced that thing. No questions asked.”

You laughed loudly. “Spidey sense?”

“No questions,” he repeated as he nuzzled his nose into your hair. 

“Fine then,” you snuggled up further into him. “No questions.”

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

feeling veryyyy normal thinking about being offered as part of bounty to the ghoul because the bounty poster doesn’t end up having the caps they promised him. and they need to pay him somehow. they’ll offer him their lil captive vaultie as payment for the rest. 👉🏻👈🏻 will he accept?🫣

A Fair Trade

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,980

Warnings: smut (18+), p in v sex, oral (m receiving), creampie, sex as payment for debt, human trafficking typical of the Fallout universe.

Summary: The Ghoul always gets what's owed to him.

Notes: Oh, wow! My first submission-type ask! I'm genuinely super flattered and totally open to doing more. I initially ballparked that this would be around 2,500 words and it ended up almost 4,000 because I have no self control when it comes to this man. I will try to keep other submissions a little shorter, generally, to hopefully get them out quicker.

To the anon: This may have turned out...sweeter than you may have envisioned? Maybe that's not the word. Less rough? If so, my apologies! I hope you still enjoy.

Things had been...unfortunate for you since you had decided to leave your vault.

Looking for a taste of something new, chasing the feeling that the world had other things for you to experience, you had managed to make it to the nearest settlement of any import with only a few scrapes and bruises. But, regrettably, you lacked a true understanding of how cruel and selfish people on the surface could be, and you quickly ended up the captive of some random outpost runner.

Well, you'd been traded to the outpost runner. You still weren't quite sure how that had come about, even after weeks and weeks had passed, but, frankly, the scrawny, dirty man was a lot less scary than the guy who had initially captured you. He wasn't not scary by any means (no one up here really was, as far as you could tell); he still confiscated your things and locked you into the small room in the back that you were fairly confident was intended to be a closet every night, but he hadn't really done anything to hurt you so far. You were given a pillow, at least.

But you were growing increasingly uneasy with not knowing what his plans for you were. Worst case scenario, you guessed, he could kill and eat you like you'd heard some surface people did, but that didn't seem to be the case. Nevertheless, the way he eyeballed you, "accidentally" brushed against you with increasing frequency, made you uneasy. Maybe he'd bought you to be his wife, or whatever the Wasteland equivalent would be. You imagined that in the next few weeks he'd offer you more favorable sleeping accommodations...so long as you shared them with him.

Maybe you could accept, kill him in his sleep and flee. You really didn't treasure the idea of ending someone's life, but...you needed to get out of here, and soon.

The sound of the creaky, rusted front door hinges flexing drew your attention, distracting you from your bloody ruminations and the pile of scrap you'd been sorting through. The front office hadn't been loud, but the small murmur of voices instantly faded, a clatter of movement towards the door, followed by some very familiar sounding footfalls. He was back.

The tall, noseless, rad-ravaged man made his way in multiple times a month, sometimes even multiple times a week when the bounties were easy and the work was plentiful. You'd seen each other somewhat often the past few weeks, as your keeper had begun to allow you to clean and assist in the front of the office more and more. It was both better and worse; the days passed with less tedium and you got to see some of the interesting characters the desert produced. However, many of those characters sized you up with predatory eyes, as if they were estimating how many caps they could sell your flesh for in their heads. The ghoul had yet to give you that feeling, interestingly enough.

You'd heard whispers all over town about him, about all the things he'd apparently done, how he was supposedly hundreds of years old. You didn't believe that for a single second. After all, despite his fascinatingly gruesome appearance, he was just a man, wasn't he? A man with very advanced radiation sickness (and a rather unfriendly general disposition), but a man nonetheless.

Sometimes, you felt as if he was certainly looking at you the way a man would. You were unsure, frankly; social etiquette was so vastly different on the surface than it was at home. It sure seemed like he let his eyes linger on you, on your body. Perhaps he was simply curious about you, as you were about him; most people seemed afraid to even look his way, or too disgusted by his condition to even consider it.

"You wanna run that by me again?"

Your ears pricked up instantly at the tone in the ghoul's voice, your heckles raising as you sensed trouble. Tiptoeing towards the door to the front room, you stood as close as you dared, shoulder touching the rotting door frame as you listened in.

"I told you, we were robbed a few nights ago. I don't have the full payment for you right now. This is everything I've got."

You knew your keeper was lying, about the robbery, at least; the place was so small that if anyone had been in to steal anything, you'd have certainly known about it. Whether or not he really had the caps, you didn't know, but you supposed he didn't, figuring that he wouldn't take the risk of pissing off the ghoul if he did. You had overheard him discussing gambling on a few occasions.

"Well, you better find something to make me whole, quick." came the ghoul's acidic reply.

On some level, you understood his frustration. The work was done, the bounty delivered. Un-delivering it wouldn't make up for all the time he'd put in. But, you also knew his reputation for being unforgiving, and you felt a chill run up your spine as you began to fear that he would kill your keeper and you if he didn't find some sort of satisfaction soon.

"I don't have anything worth anything. I told you, this is all I have." the scrawny man shot back, trying to sound confident, tough.

However, based on the way his voice trembled and faltered, the uneasy way he cleared his throat, you suspected the ghoul knew he was lying, too, confirmed only a moment later by what you were certain was the sound of a gun thwish-ing out of its holster and cocking. Your heart flew up into your throat, hammering even harder when, a second later, the lighter sounds of the scrawny man's footsteps rapidly approached the door of the back office. Scrambling back towards the desk, you'd only closed about half the distance when the door flew open, the man grabbing at you almost blindly, his long, dirty nails digging into your exposed wrist as he dragged you, protesting, out behind the counter.

"Hey!" you hissed, trying your best to snatch your arm back out of his grip and failing, infuriatingly. You were momentarily blinded with outrage that he would offer your body to someone to cover his own debts, though you supposed that was just how people did things in this awful place. Your eyes, feeling like they could pop out of your head they were so wide, flew to the man on the other side of the counter, who was assessing you with a look you couldn't read.

"What about her?" the scrawny man asked, and that was the final straw. If things were going to get worse for you, you weren't just going to accept it with a smile. The fingers on your free hand curled into a fist, which you smashed into the side of his face, causing him to release your arm in shock. Almost instantly, he jerked towards you, but the Ghoul pointed the modified pistol in his hand further into his face, stopping him.

"Now, how're you gonna offer me merchandise and then try to damage it in front of me?" he said, speaking to the man, but not looking at him. He was still looking at you, an intrigued glint in his eyes. They were...pretty, actually. Warm and golden brown. Was he really thinking about taking the offer? You'd be lying if you said you weren't curious about what his body would be like underneath all the layers of clothing. However, the entire situation had your walls up high, your whole body trembling slightly.

The Ghoul stepped slowly around the counter towards you; the scrawny man shrunk away, the gun still pointed in his direction, while you held your ground, doing your best to keep your head held high as he stepped right into your bubble, your chests almost touching as he seemed to really size you up. After a moment of incredibly tense silence, his eyes moved to the door, then back to yours. Slowly, he lowered the gun.

"Alright. C'mon, Vaultie." he said simply, turning on one foot to make his way back to the other side of the counter. You hesitated, but soon moved to stand beside him, a surreal feeling washing over you.

"Hey! No fucking way, man! You can't just take her for keeps. She's worth way more caps than I owe you!"

The man was even more red-faced than usual, his tone downright indignant, but he didn't step out from behind the counter to follow.

"Ah, but, see, once we factor in the interest on my missed payment, hurt and suffering, on top of my 'you're a dumbshit' fee...I think it's a wash, personally." the Ghoul replied, leaning back over the counter into the man's dirt-speckled face. He clearly wasn't in a place of strength to negotiate, and his angry gaze moved to you again before he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"What the fuck ever." he grunted.

You felt your body relax noticeably as the bulk of the conflict seemed to pass. However, there was a small amount of unfinished business you wanted to address before you left this place. You crossed your arms, turning your narrowed eyes to your former keeper, feeling emboldened with the Ghoul standing at your back.

"Where's my bag you took from me?"

Soon, you were back in possession of your things, including your Pip Boy, which you fretted over as you and your new keeper set out the door and into the desert heat. As you walked, you flexed the sore fingers on your hand absentmindedly. Soon, you were pouring sweat, pausing briefly to peel the top half of your vault suit down to your waist, tying the sleeves around you hips. The Ghoul appraised you silently as you did, taking a hit off of an inhaler from his pocket before continuing on.

As grateful as you were to be away from the trading outpost, away from the scrawny man and his uneasy ways, you couldn't help but worry in the back of your mind, fret at the possibility that you were going somewhere worse. It was being too trusting that got you into your situation to begin with. You worried at your lip with your teeth as he began to direct you down the road, his hand flat and firm between your shoulders. You weren't sure if the gesture was intended to be one of comfort, or if he was simply ready to snatch you up by the back of your vault suit if you decided to try to run.

The two of you walked in complete silence in the direction of the setting sun for what felt like a hundred miles. In truth, your Pip Boy revealed that you'd only gone a single mile and some change when the sun fully dipped behind the horizon, granting some blessed relief from the sweltering heat. You kept on a while longer, until the stars began to appear; eventually, the man veered from the decrepit highway, steering you to a little alcove in the rocky hillside, barely big enough to be a coyote's den.

"Alright, we'll bed down here for the night. Gettin' too dark to keep walkin'." he said, dropping his bag on the ground in a little cloud of dust as he turned to survey the site suspiciously.

You stood waiting for him to direct you, your fingers wrapped tight around the straps of your backpack, watching as he checked around wordlessly. After a few minutes, you chose one of the flatter rocks around and sat against it, watching as he built a small fire, inhaling some of the rations that had been hid away in your bag. Eventually, the ghoul threw himself down on the other side of the flames, facing the highway, and did the same, tucking into something canned from his bag. Things were quiet for a while, but eventually he spoke to you again, his voice pulling you away from fidgeting with with your Pip-Boy.

"Y'know, you're insanely lucky he didn't sell that thing. Can get quite a bit for a functional one these days. Moron didn't know what he had." he said, still chewing.

You blinked at him, your eyes flitting between the gadget on your arm and him, unsure how to respond. Briefly, you felt a growing sense of apprehension, but he must've sensed it, as he rolled his eyes and sighed softly as he swallowed.

"I'm just sayin' you're lucky you still have it, kid. Don't piss your pants. Trust me, if I wanted that thing, I'd have taken it from you already." he said, tossing the now-empty can over his shoulder.

You nodded silently, willing the tension out of your spine as you watched him dig around inside the oiled leather saddle bag once more. He produced a silver flask and a canteen, taking long pulls off of one, then the other. He then took another drag off of the inhaler he'd been puffing as you walked. Eventually, he stood, gave his back a stretch, and shrugged the long, tattered duster from his shoulders, splaying it out quickly on the ground behind him before turning back to face you.

"Alright, darlin'. Get your little ass over here."

You felt yourself freeze almost completely, your head turning sharply towards him. He hadn't said anything about the initial deal for so long that you weren't sure he was actually interested.

"What? I accepted you in lieu of payment. That means you are the payment, sweetheart. And I do intend to collect." he said, plainly amused, sinking down to the ground, his back sliding against the red rock behind him. "Besides, I've seen the way you look at me. Don't pretend you're not curious."

Your cheeks instantly felt agonizingly hot; had you been that obvious in your interest in him? Every day, something new in this place made you feel so silly, so naive. But, at the same time...he wasn't wrong. He might be rough-looking overall, but he'd been kind to you so far, and he did have quite a nice build. Besides, it had been weeks since you'd felt sufficiently alone enough to masturbate. A tad awkwardly, you went to lift yourself to walk to him when he cut you off.

"Mmm. How about you crawl?"

You felt your face twist into a mask of indignant confusion, and he chuckled. Hesitating, you made measured eye contact with him over the flames, quickly realizing, as those mischievous eyes glinted back at you, that he was serious. You swallowed hard, pulling yourself slowly onto your hands and knees before crawling the half-circle around the small fire as quickly and as dignified as possible, though there felt like there was very little dignity in it anyway. You stopped at his feet, kneeling with your hands on your thighs and looking up at him, trying your hardest to not seem as nervous as you felt.

"Take your shirt off." he ordered, head tilted as he watched you quickly pull the grimy undershirt over your head, tossing it near your bag. The night air was cool on your bare breasts, your sensitive nipples quickly peaking into hard little nubs that stung slightly. You wanted to press your warm palms to them, soothe the ache, but you didn't want him to think you were trying to cover yourself, so you simply sat, staring again, waiting for further instructions.

He grinned at you, leaning forward into your space, his gloved fingers stroking along your jaw, sliding a single one under your chin to lift your eyes fully to his. They were just as pretty glinting in the dying firelight as they had been in the outpost office.

"Y'know, you take direction pretty well, Vaultie. I like that in a lady." he said, tone low and conspiratory.

Your entire face burned now, even your eyes feeling hot, but that fire spread its way down into your core, blooming between your thighs, and you shifted slightly to press them together harder.

Reaching down, he made quick work of the belt holding up his pants and his fly, tugging free a cock that was about as red as the rest of him, the bulbous head glistening with precum already in the yellow-orange glow of the fire. Your tongue darted out to swipe at your lower lip, and you crawled up his legs to look closer. The Ghoul seemed surprised, leaning back ever so slightly from you as you came near, giving you room to move close and wrap your hand around him, drawing out a long hiss from between his yellowed teeth.

"Right on it, eh?" he chuckled almost breathlessly. "I like that in a lady, too."

You shot him a bit of a chastising look as you began to work your hand up and down over him, your free fingers coming to play along the weeping slit of him, earning another groan. He was a pretty average length for his height, you thought, but thick and already almost completely hard. It didn't seem like it would take much work to get him the rest of the way there. Your musings were interrupted by the feeling of his leather glove brushing against the swell of your breast before encaging the whole thing in his palm, massaging almost reverently. You whimpered when he plucked at your other nipple, sending shocks down your spine and straight to your already throbbing clit.

"Let's see what that pretty mouth is good for, hmm?"

Embarrassingly, you immediately dropped your head, pushing your body flat so you were sort of lying between his spread legs, bringing your lips down to hover a few inches above his leaking cock head. Tongue darting out to lap up a little taste of the shiny slickness there, you hummed; he tasted different than you were expecting, sort of the same, but with an almost metallic edge. You ran your tongue in a full circle around his tip, clenching around nothing when he groaned throatily, his right hand sliding through the dirt beside him.

"Fuck." he spat out when you unhinged your jaw, allowing the first few inches of him to fill your mouth, wrapping your lips around the head and sucking hard as your left hand continued to work the base of him. More and more precum leaked from the slit as you tongued at it, the taste and the knowledge that you were arousing to him making you rub your thighs together shamelessly.

"Play with your pussy." he commanded, clearly struggling to keep his tone even. Beneath you, you could feel his hips rocking almost imperceptibly. He didn't need to tell you twice; you could already tell you'd soaked through your underwear as you wrestled your hand down into your pants, pushing the wet gusset aside to rub tight circles around your swollen bud, moaning around his cock at the feeling.

The sound seemed to really turn him on, one of his hands suddenly moving to fist into your hair, the slight pain at the roots making you throb. His other hand came to cup your jaw again, holding you in place as he fully fucked his hips up into your waiting mouth, cussing under his breath as you continued to push yourself closer to orgasm. He kept you like that for a few long minutes, your neck cramping slightly by the time his thumb reached down, wiping away some drool that was dribbling down your chin. Bleary eyed, you looked up at him pleadingly. His answer was a wicked chuckle, his grin less of a smile and more a predator bearing his teeth.

"Blowin' a ghoul turn you on that much, cutie? What would the other vaulties think?" he tutted, shaking his head. "I think it's time you get on my cock."

Blushing hard at his little taunt, you could feel his burning gaze as you pulled yourself back up into a sitting position, tugging your boots off and setting them aside before shimmying the suit the rest of the way off, along with your underwear. A shiver broke down your spine as a small breeze hit you, your fire pretty much nothing but glowing embers now. However, when you pulled yourself back onto his lap, sighing as you ground your wet slit against his erection, you found that he was pleasantly warm feeling, bringing your hands up to his chest so you could lean over just enough to reach between you and position his cock at your entrance.

Too afraid of injuring yourself to attempt to take him all in one move, you instead opted to sink down onto the head, wriggling your hips before pulling them back up, then sinking down again, gently bouncing yourself down onto him. The man beneath you was tense, his hands kneading at your breasts as he huffed and hissed his way inside you. By the time you'd worked yourself most of the way down onto him, his hands moved to your hips, gripping them deliciously tight as you bobbed up and down on his length. For as cocky as he'd been before, he was pretty clearly struggling to keep his cool now.

One of your hands moved up from his chest, leaving you unsteadily balancing on one hand as the other pinched your nipple the same way he had before, making you cry out like a wounded animal. He must've liked that, as well, as his hands immediately yanked you the rest of the way down onto him, your ass resting flush against his hips. You repeated the sound again, higher, more strangled as he sat so deep inside you, the fat tip of him strumming away at something amazing right behind your belly button. It was too dark to make out much of anything, but you could feel the way his body twitched and bucked beneath you, strung tight as a bow.

The Ghoul's hands were digging deep into the fat of your hips, so hard you knew you'd bruise, restricting your movement, forcing you to swivel and grind your hips against him, the angle putting delicious friction on your poor aching clit and pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to clench around him rhythmically, and his hand quickly appeared on your clit in the dark, rubbing surprisingly deft stripes up and down the puffy flesh until you were suddenly gasping for air, trembling hard against his chest as he fucked up into your heat roughly, sloppily, the hand that wasn't on your clit slapping you hard on the ass. Suddenly, he let out a long, low groan, and you could feel the hot throbbing of him pumping his cum inside you, his hips stuttering as you let yourself slump halfway against him. There was a sudden metallic taste in your mouth. For several long moments, there were no sounds but your co-mingled harsh breaths and sound of the wind swirling the sand across the foothills.

After you'd finally caught your breath, you made a move to extract yourself from him. He promptly stopped you, flipping you onto your back, the smell of the duster's rich leather curling in around you as he kept grinding his hips into your overstimulated cunt. It drew an embarrassing squeal from you, hands flying to his chest once more before being rather playfully batted away.

"Oh, no, sweetheart. Nice as that was, your buddy owed me quite a bit of money. I think you'll be paying me back in installments." he growled in your ear, one hand moving around to give your ass a firm squeeze as you gave another clench around him. Your mind, foggy with sex, wandered to the Radaway still stashed in your bag.

It was going to be a long night.

[callooopie]

Modern!Davos Blackwood headcannons (pt. 2)

— The hastily written during work break edition —

I get messages from the stars, when you’re making love to me — Messages From the Stars // The Rah Band

i go to college to get more knowledge but why does college interfere with my tumblr writing 😔 I’m not even at school yet and I’ve gotta start kicking into academic gear..

In light of some recent episode developments. I think I’ll rescind the headcannon that his name is Benjicot Davos. It’s just Davos now. (Lowkey… I thought HBO would just honestly write out the character of Benjicot… I was apparently wrong when they just mentioned him ig) anyways new headcannon Davos has a little brother, surprise. Ben’s gotta learn unhinged behavior from somewhere after all.. and what better way to start than with his “cool” older brother.

You know that text post that goes like “Have you ever argued with your girlfriend?” “Nope. She tells me to shut up and I do.” That was actually a text convo between Davos and his friend. He’s dumb, but not stupid. If you tell him to do something he’s doing it (as long as it’s legal… then again he’s really not the type to listen to the law)

He likes slow and domestic mornings. Getting up late, brushing your teeth together. He’ll flick water at you as you’re brushing your hair or doing your skincare routine with the most dopey and tired smile. He knows he’s won when you stop what you’re doing to stare at him with an unamused look. He washes his face like a lunatic though (both hands just furiously rubbing his face with little to no product). He’ll make the coffee and you turn on the tv. Pure silence except for the background noise of a news channel or show. Don’t even get him started on the part where you both fall back asleep on the couch as the sun rises and sunlight funnels in through the curtains. Pure bliss.

He LOVES girls night. How did he get an invite? He didn’t! But he’s quiet and normal, so he gets the girls night pass. It could be just you, or a few friends, even a group. But Davos will be there using the face masks, eating the finger food, drinking the fancy drinks. His girls night pass gets revoked though because he does not pay attention to the talk. He’s too busy devouring the charcuterie board to care about drama! …oh that’s the whole point of girls night? Oh… “Oh—and we like her right? …she’s problematic? …So we hate her? Oh… okay yeah she sounded weird—“

“Unique” pet names. There’s always the classics (love, darling, cutie, honey) but he’s got a few under his belt that turn heads, in a bad way maybe. He starts off pretty tame, he uses “my lady” a lot (chivalry-pilled). “Ma’am” too. “My lady” has a chance to devolve into “my liege” :/ Davos calls you pookie and you call him pookie back. You’re both pookie what can I say (sometimes uses the shortened ‘pooks’). Every single pet name he uses must have ‘my’ in front of it. “Do you want to get that pizza from that one place, my lady? Yeah? Okay—No I can pay don’t worry about it, my lovely.”

If you’re not a gamer, but you like to play in both casual and competitive games with him. The only reason you’re having a pretty good game in a competitive game is because Davos is fighting for his life to give you guys the W. Sometimes you’re a little lost, sometimes you clutch up. But usually it’s him, keyboard furiously clicking, eyes darting around his monitor. His face is literally in the monitor he’s so locked in. And you’re just in the call like (“Aw dang it I died.. woww you make it look so easy!”) “Me? No you’re doing work too—look at all those assists and kills you got. You’re pulling your weight too. You get ‘em low I clean up. It’s these other fuckers on our team that aren’t—“ (he went 30/14/5 and you went 10/21/16)

Regardless of your skills in video games, he gets so hype for you in them. Casual or competitive, he’s screaming about every single achievement you or you both make. A clutch round you win all by yourself? GG EZ TELL EM TO GO NEXT THEY DON’T WANT YOUR SMOKE. You build something in your shared Minecraft world? Stunning, beautiful. The architecture is to die for. The redstone? You did that all yourself? He would’ve thought you followed a tutorial it was so good!

Can eat, will eat. He’s a big strong boy, he’s gotta eat. Which means if you ask for Taco Bell or McDonald’s at 2 am? He’s gonna get some with you! You can honestly just text him an order and he’ll understand right away. This turns into you both driving around late at night, music blasting and you feeding him fries. Speaking of food; he’s a heavy believer in the ‘boyfriend tax’. He will steal a sip of your drink or a bite of your food, regardless of consequences.

I do believe Davos is sassy. It’s like dangerous levels of sass he gives you sometimes. It makes you do a double take. Side-eyes, eye rolls, scoffs, dramatic sighs. He is a drama queen.

How he deals with others who bother you in public can range between normal and not normal. Davos has a few options that run through his mind when you encounter a catcaller or unwanted advances. He can either tell the guy to fuck off, start a fight, start barking at him. He will bark, he has barked. It startled you more than the offending guy. But also Davos knows when to get serious, when to actually deal with someone who’s invading your space or not leaving you alone. He’s a tall dude, he works out. He can be pretty imposing. And he’s not afraid to be the first one to hit or push, especially if the offending man has gotten on his nerves too. And not just because they were trying to flirt or shoot a shot at you.

A big aquarium date guy. Or any date really. Actually, any way he can hang out or be near you is considered a date to him and something that makes his day much better. He likes spending time with you, and he likes showing you off to the public. He gets to walk next to you and say “that’s my date! They’re on a date with me!” It’s perhaps the best part of the whole day, being able to be seen right with you. Even if you’re just a passing couple, two people in the midst of a whole crowd, it’s still something to Davos. And that something tells everyone that you’re his.

[infiniteetcetera]

My next weekly controversial ACOTAR post: A defense of Azriel, because if I see one more post saying he has no personality or is an incel (but also an f-boy apparently) then it’s game over

Azriel is such an interesting and complex character I think it’s an incredible shame so many readers misinterpret him just because his character is shown is small bursts rather than loud blasts. SO i’m not going to try and defend him because this man has done nothing wrong, instead I’ll provide y’all with a list of moments that prove both that Azriel DOES have a personality and that’s it’s a loveable one:

•He tells Feyre that Cassian is annoying right up front (a small thing but I appreciate it)

• He spent the night at Rita’s with Feyre, playing silly games betting on Rhys’ dating life (funny for so many reasons) and making her feel comfortable in an overwhelming situation

•Even though he’s quiet and private, he confides to Feyre he doesn’t know where he belongs after 500 years and feels he doesn’t fit in to reassure her that the feelings she’s having are normal

•He was reassuring and polite to Elain and Nesta when they first meet

•Acknowledged that it was a risk and a sacrifice for Nesta and Elain to lend them their house and was thankful rather than antagonistic or rude (*cough cough Cassian*) and met them both with a protective regard to Feyre but an open mind about their circumstances

•Is so upset by the mysogny and abuse in Illyria he straight up refuses to go there because he will not play nice and polite with these jerks like Rhys and Cas do

•In Feyre’s own words, she trusts him well enough that if Rhys was ever doing something to harm her/locking her up like Tamlin did she believes he would not only save her but deal with Rhys himself if it came to it

•Follow up on above, he spies on Amren against Rhys’ orders. When Feyre asks about it Amren says Azriel is the most disobedient of the IC (some of them could never) because he’s willing to do what is right over what Rhys thinks is right (hot)

•Gave Feyre such a stunning smile after she accepts the mating bond that Rhys is filled with jealousy and ready to attack (that is to say, this man is very pretty and deserves credit for it)

•Amren putting her head on his shoulder after battle because she’s tired and everyone (including him) is shocked but he’s polite about it and also it just radiates male worth trusting vibes

•Was literally bleeding out screaming crying throwing up poisoned and still sassed the king of Hybern for Mor and Feyre

•When Cassian is trying to make Lucien uncomfortable Azriel KICKS HIM (all the Azriel is so mean/hates Lucien people come down to reality please)

•When Cassian implies something rude about Nesta and Mor wants to join in Azriel shoots her a look to stop (yes the Az that is supposedly obsessed with Mor and her opinion of him) and Feyre describes said look as as if they had talked about it many times before so YES EVEN PRE-ACOWAR THIS MAN WAS SUPPORTING NESTA

•Feyre and Mor both agree he’s the only one with manners

•He laughed at Nesta’s sassy comment to Mor because man respects good comedy

•When Cassian makes a sexist joke and implies Az is thinking the same thing not only does Azriel not engage with his tomfoolery but Mor cuts in to defend him as the only batboy who never says such things

•Just the ENTIRE sequence of him training Feyre to fly. He’s so sweet and witty and charming

•So gentle and reassuring to Elain, offering to show her the garden and carrying her all the way up to the house

•Him taking care of Feyres injuries from the flying lessons. Again just always being so gentle and sweet. He trusts her enough not to go easy on her but isn’t cruel and overworking either

•The entire Nephelle story and just the fact Rhys gave the story to Azriel as a “gift” this boy appreciates sweet stories about underdog lesbians with wings and I love it

•Just him paying such close careful attention to Elain and recognizing she is a seer, him talking her through her visions and helping reassure her she’s not crazy (he knows what that feels like)

•Even though he hates Illyrians, he helps Cassian break the news to the families of those who lost warriors in the war

•Just “I don’t see you spouting poetry brother” “I don’t need to resort to it😩🔥”

•BE CAREFUL HOW YOU SPEAK ABOUT MY HIGH LADY

•Eris uttered the word “slut” about a woman and this man ATTACKED. Like I am an Eris stan and I know some people don’t like this scene but it’s the true feminist energy I need

•Ignoring Rhys’ order to stand down but stopping the second Feyre says something bc this man respects women’s authority (t’s literally an intentional way of demonstrating Feyres power right after she was belittled by Tamlin. people act like he was rabid in this scene but it seems so clear to me he was intentionally doing this to support his high lady)

•Was the first to realize something was wrong with Elain (also has a sweet exchange of looks with Nesta over it, like they are homegirl’s designated protectors)

•Just EVERYTHING about him volunteering to get Elain back. Whether you ship Elriel or not this was such a sweet moment. He doesn’t hesitate at all even when Nesta says it’s a death wish and everyone’s sentiment starts to change.

•Everything about him saving Elain and the human girl. Just 10/10 all around, hot, stunning, sweet, incredible, precious angel of death boy

•Az is so badly wounded after the rescue mission that Rhys and the others who see him are shocked but he refused to set Elain down (even though she’s not hurt) until Rhys takes her and the first thing he asks is for Helion to come unchain her (not anything for himself). Again just SOOO sweet and caring whether you ship Elriel or not

•Another Elriel moment but well they happen, Az giving her truth teller is just🤧 he’s never lent out this blade to his brothers or anyone else, we know it has some special brand of magic and he likely does too and he offers it to Elain to give her a sense of safety (again even if you don’t ship them it’s just so considerate)

•”Chain me to a tree Rhys, I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back” LIKE TELL ME THAT ISNT HOT

•A super small moment but after the war when the boys are watching the sisters/Mor laughing and Rhys starts crying Az tells him “it’s real” and I just think the intuitive understanding and care behind that is so sweet (especially when Az is so misunderstood by his brothers)

•This sounds more like a hate comment to Rhys/Cassian than pro Az but when Rhys admits he and Cassian used to beat Azriel for hours to get him to speak to them and he never would, I think that’s such crazy determination and resolve and also he’s wayyyyy nicer than me for still putting up with them after that

•HIM REFUSING TO SPY ON LUCIEN. I just love that degree of respect it’s made even better by the fact Rhys asks about Lucien a second time bc he literally assumes Az was joking and Azriel’s just like “nope not doing it” (again people who say he hates Lucien, please)

•Him finding drunk Cassian and Feyre and trying to fix their terrible decorations the just chugging some wine himself😭 he’s so funny AND sweet

•”Sit, I’ll take care of it.” I NEED THIS ENERGY FROM EVERY MAN EVER PLEASE

•Also him telling everyone to wait for Elain because she’s literally the one who cooked and them eating before her would be rude and I just IWJDKWKDN again so hot and polite and it’s not even a romance/flirting thing bc when Elain comes back and she/Cas give him the opportunity to take credit he doesn’t at all?? He just did it because it’s right and proper

•Him insulting Amren to defend Elain (and then blushing when everyone laughs at his joke) he’s precious (and funny af)

•Him dying at Elains gift JMEKXNEKD the IC stresses him fr and he’s waiting for someone to free him

•Him being nice about Mor’s awful gifts even though she’s known him for 500 years and still gets him awful gifts and also exchanges lingerie with Cassian to his (and Nesta’s) face even though she thinks Az is in love with her

•Half compliment to Az half complaint about Cassian, but when there’s mention of all the universe research Rhys does in ACOSF Cassians like “Rhys told him and he instantly forgot” but As is super interested and listens intently and wants to learn more and I just love a boy with hobbies and interests😩

•Small thing but when he first sees Nes in the house of wind in ACOSF he smiles and is so polite and Nesta tells us for like a whole paragraph how beautiful he is and I trust that woman above all

•Also in reference to the above, Nesta chats with Az for like 10 seconds and instantly wants to train with him over Cas because she knows he’d be better to her

•Azriel blushing when Nesta calls him pretty✨ (such a sweet lover boy I swear)

•He laughs at Nesta’s insults to Cassian but holds back from laughing at Cassians✨

•The only one who literally JUST ASKS why Nesta won’t train and also sparks the idea in Cassians obtuse head that it might be because she doesn’t want to train in Illyria (VALID)

•I know people have mixed takes about how the scene is written but him asking Nesta if she was pushed down the stairs feels genuine to me, like he asks the question very pointedly serious and focuses just on Nesta, his vague amusement after is only in regard to Cassians dumb reaction but the fact he asked her and the way in which he does it (ignoring Cassians input and still waiting for Nesta’s answer) shows genuine consideration to her (still a stranger to him for all intents and purposes) over his brother’s feelings

•Him paying such careful attention to Nesta and being the only one who never starts fights with her to such a strong degree that even Nesta feels too seen by him

•Such a basic thing (but it’s not when you look at the quality of other ACOTAR men unfortunately) but when Cassian asks him if he wants kids he says it’s not his decision (like this is why I hate the anti-elriel “elain can’t bare his children” argument, I assure you Az does not gaf)

•”Azriel had never said a bad word about Nesta” and i’m not supposed to stan???

•Also the fact he doesn’t like hand to hand combat bc he doesn’t like getting covered in people’s sweat JEKKDKW I know it’s just a gag Cas jokes about but there’s something so funny and refined about that

•Him being so competitive is hot honestly😩 especially how Cassian describes it as not being in an arrogant or scary way but in a very strategic sort of manner, how he’s often the only one who can compete with Rhys (who was trained for this stuff since birth) like YES

•Az getting flustered and awkwardly walking away when he sees how Nesta is staring at him and Cas KEKKDKE i so highly appreciate his balance between confident and shy boy

•Him and Nesta smiling about Cassians stupidity, being “allies against his insanity,” again, Az just being a friend to her is so sweet (and important given it’s like the one thing Nesta needed in this book)

•Not only does he vote with Cas against keeping things from Nes but when Amren starts saying lewd things about her it’s Azriel (not Cassian bc apparently he could never) who tells her to STFU about Nesta

•Amren tells the boys NOT to touch the sword and Az is legit the only one who tries to listen (the ONLY bat boy with brain cells half the time)

•Just the fact that once he starts training the Priestesses with Cas Nesta notes a bunch of them seem to have crushes on him. Like these girls who have been so traumatized by men they can barely stand to be in public feel that comfortable with him so quickly, he just radiates safe energy

•Also a small moment but him awkwardly smiling the first time he sees Gwyn at training and just trying to act casual to not make her feel weird is so sweet.

•Him dancing with Nesta “as easily as breathing” (again, their friendship means everything to me)

•When Nesta asks him why he came to solstice if seeing Elain/Lucien hurts him and he says “Because Rhys wants me here and it’d hurt him if I didn’t come” like HEJEKNDO he’s so selfless for the people he cares about FR (especially given how Rhys talks to him that same night)

•EVERYTHING about his gift to Nesta. The fact he didn’t have to give her one in the first place (it was no one’s expectation, including hers. on the surface he didn’t even get Elain a gift so it wasn’t just a polite thing). The way the gift is literally SO SWEET AND GENUINELY THOUGHTFUL like he took care not just to get her something but to get her something that would bring her joy and be useful (and is definitely based on his observations about her avoiding the fireplace)

•ALSO when she hugs him the entire room goes silent because they’re just that shocked but he just laughs and hugs her gently and then is blushing after like ANDKEKD

•The entire relationship he forms with Gwyn and how he notes shes competitive and uses that to help inspire her in training and even when he’s teasing her he’s so potently rooting for her too

•Him being nervous about holding baby Nyx with his scarred hands like this precious angel IEKKDKW

Most Offending Thing, His Bonus Chapter (the good and the bad)

•Him scheming about a snowball fight for a whole year is hilarious

•Also him including in his plotting that Cassian would be up all night with Nesta (little did he know his boy only lasts like one round, that and Cassian being so horrified at the thought of Az finding out about him being quick off the mark with Nesta, I just know Az is the stamina king)

•Even his shadows just want him to sleep but your boy is too depressed

•I’m sorry but everything about his and Elains almost kiss is HOT people who think it was overly sexualized or something have missed all the first thoughts we get from like every SJM boy about their LI (ROWAN IN QOS FR) and also the fact that this tension has obviously been brewing for a while??? he’s been avoiding her because it’s that palpable and ELAIN KNOWS IT. it’s a mutual thing it doesnt mean there isn’t romance beneath it or that he’s a creep for wanting her after a year of putting off his feelings

Brief interlude, his offending lines:

•”My two brothers are with two of those sisters but the third was given to another” - the language here might make you uncomfortable but that’s because MATING BONDS ARE UNCOMFORTABLE. we’re told by Rhys himself that they’re often used to “give” a female to a male. the distinction he makes here that Feyre/Nes are “with” Rhys/Cas but Elain was “given” to Lucien is because Elucien is the only mating bond example we’ve followed in this series where the foundation is not love and choice. Azriel does not feel entitled/think he deserves Elain. In this same chapter he feels unworthy to even touch her, stands outside in the freezing cold until he’s “again nothing at all.” Mor tells us all the way back in ACOMAF that he feels completely undeserving of love. Azriel does not think he deserves Elain just because Rhys said so (Az LITERALLY glares at him for saying it). Azriel brought up a valid point (that other characters have too) that the Archeron sisters (who have comparable power) would makes sense all mated to the bat boys (again, comparable power) since we know that’s a crux of mating bonds. Not to mention, Azriel and Elain genuinely just like each other and always have, more so than any of the mated couples even. From a logical standpoint, they would make sense as mates. Even this ships haters say they would be “too predictable/obvious” like SO YOU AGREE THEY MAKE EASY LOGICAL SENSE that’s what Az is implying.

•”Lucien will never be good enough for her” I’ve seen a lot of people use this line to say Az hates/drags Lucien but that’s not how I interpret it at all. First off, all of Az’s other actions (i’ve listed some above) show he’s actually very considerate of/trusting in regards to Lucien. This line to me reads less as “lucien is a bad/undeserving person” and more “Lucien is not what Elain wants” (right after he says she has no interest in him). From Azriel’s POV (and ours my fellow readers) Lucien has done nothing to win over Elain. Yes he’s been polite and I applaud him for that over others actions with their mates (cough cough Cassian) but he’s also never sought her out for a real conversation about the bond, never had any sort of “clicking” moment with her, and still after years just makes her uncomfortable (as far as we and Az know). I think it makes perfect sense to infer from this Lucien is not “good enough” in regards to what Elain is seeking (I think the easiest way I can put this is the idea of “somebody can be perfect but still not perfect for you”). Is Azriel’s opinion a little biased? Yes FS, but also this girl was about to let him do filthy things to her down the hall from Lucien, I say it’s pretty safe for him to infer that she doesn’t want Lucien (and therefor never will).

•”He hadn’t gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to” - I won’t repeat what I said above regarding the sexual undertones in the chapter, but also the reason why Az hadn’t thought beyond this is in the chapter and it’s not because he’s some fuck boy. AZRIEL KNOWS HE CANT HAVE A FUTURE WITH ELAIN AND DOESNT THINK HE DESERVES IT. It’s written all over their interactions together. He wanted to kiss her to have a piece of her to hold onto, not because he thinks he can have a future with her because he knows as things stand he can’t. He doesn’t want to plan to push her/seduce her (like rhys implies) or anything because he doesn’t feel worthy of her and knows circumstances won’t allow them to be together safely. What’s driving him crazy and keeping him up at night with fantasies is that they do both want each other, but imagining a life where they could have more than that and be happy together is impossible for Az because he’s someone who has never prioritized his happiness and does not expect it.

•”I’ll defeat him with little effort.” - Again reading comprehension I beg, this is not a diss against Lucien. If Lucien was the type of guy to invoke a blood duel because Elain chose Azriel (Lucien wouldn’t, Azriel doesn’t even think he would it’s Rhys who suggests it) then YEAH AZ CAN KICK HIS ASS WITH LITTLE EFFORT BC THAT WOULD BE A CRAPPY THING TO DO.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming

•I LOVE everything about his scene with Gwyn on the roof. His vague awkwardness, his teasing of her and trying to be polite, him actually trying to help her train (after we learn Cas has been useless, go figure), and just being so sweet and kind to her in general even though he’s probably still incredibly sad/upset🤧

•This precious boy gets a small urge to cross his arms and is thrown into a PTSD flashback of his father with his mom??? He constantly consciously makes effort not to appear scary/threatening to women because he’s that scarred from his fathers behavior😭

•Listen, I won’t try to entirely defend the necklace thing because I do think it’s weird no matter who you ship Azriel with BUT i will say my best take on it is that it’s a version of self harm/sabotage. Like the only thing that makes sense to me here is he’s subconsciously creating barriers in his relationships with both Elain/Gwyn by doing this which is honestly way less f-boy (a weird take i’ve seen from people, especially given at this point he has no plans to pursue either Elain or Gwyn) and just way more very sad.

FINALLY, sprinkles from HOFAS:

•He’s so FINE in this book

•His silly little things like kicking rocks while trailing Nesta and Bryce to make a point are SO funny

•Him and Nesta working so well together, may not be a point in his favor but it makes me happy

•Azriel loving and defending his mom✨

•Azriel barely snapping at Nesta and then immediately apologizing and saying he loves her. THAT is more emotional intelligence than any other male in ACOTAR has shown

•Him liking club music but also being embarrassed about it? Adorable

•Everything about his interactions with Bryce in this book strike me so hard because you can tell he’s trying to keep his guard up but still has a lot of sympathy for her. I think that gets to the core of who Az is: smart and distant and guarded but also genuinely kind above all

•Also so many small funny little jokes and lines

I COULD PROBABLY SAY MORE AND GO ON FOREVER BUT HOPEFULLY PEOPLE GET THE POINT :)

[charlietheepicwriter7]

V The Mysterious Wayne Family

Dick Grayson V Gotham - Chapter 2

“Why can’t I sit in the front seat?” Danny demanded to know, crossing his arms from the back of Dick’s car. 

Dick sighed, peering back at him with the rearview mirror. He’d been shaky as they escaped the apartment without getting attacked by the media. Did the idiot get sick? Was the media in this dimension such a big threat? 

Truthfully, Danny didn’t know a lot about this dimension, despite having lived in it for around a year. That year was spent almost entirely homeless, spending only the last few weeks with Dick. Otherwise, he was sleeping where he could, spending his days in libraries and conning people out of cash as a child medium. 

…Well, calling it “conning” was a bit of an overstatement. He did get people in contact with dead relatives and the like. He just… didn’t always quote them exactly, especially when it meant he could get enough money to eat for the day. 

“It’s unsafe, Danny, you know that.”

Danny glared at him from his booster seat, which put him perfectly at eye level so he could lock eyes with Dick with the rear-view mirror. He hated this whole situation: the booster seat, his age, needing to rely on an adult, the stupid media, the stupid police, the stupid Dick… Okay, he kinda liked the booster seat. It was based off of some hero—Superbman—who was an alien? But looked like a human?

That may be one of the biggest differences between this dimension and his hom–the dimension he was born in. Danny had been one of the only heroes back there, along with Valerie and Dani, if you could even call them heroes. In this dimension? There were hundreds. There were space aliens to normal people in costumes to other humans with powers, and while not all of them were heroes, a lot of them were. 

And Danny hated how easy they had it. 

Every day back in Amity Park was a fight for acceptance, a battle to convince people that yes, he was a ghost with good intentions, only for that trust to be lost the moment he wasn’t fast enough to stop a ghost from hurting someone, or got thrown through a wall trying to protect people. It was constantly one step forward and one step back, and nothing Sam or Tucker or Jazz said ever truly made him okay with it.

Despite everything, he hoped Amity Park was doing alright without him. He couldn’t go back—wouldn’t go back, even if he had an open portal and his powers, not after what happened—but hopefully they were doing okay. 

He hoped his rogues had listened and stayed away from the Fenton portal. For their own safety.

Like every time he thought of his pa–the Fentons, the scars across his chest flared up. They might have been long-healed, but the pain always lingered, a sharp lance that lingered in the thin skin of his wound. Fiddling around in his pocket, Danny found his juul and puffed. Exhaling, a bubble gum smoke filled the cabin as the CBD started to work its way into his blood. 

Dick coughed. “You know you won’t be able to do that in the manor, right?”

Danny grumbled, rolling down the window a crack. 

“I’m serious, Danny. I know you need it, but the rules are different at the manor. You’ll need to go outside to smoke.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll smoke outside. Wouldn’t want your gramps to get bent out of shape.”

He laughed. “I think Alfred would be alright, once we explain your medical issues. It’s Bruce we’ll have to worry about. He’s got this thing about drugs… once he learns what’s in your juul, he do whatever it takes to get you off it. He won’t even listen if we tell him about your chronic pain, he’ll just think you’re lying!” Dick threw his hand up in the air. “Honestly, it’s just lecture after lecture with him.”

“He can suck a cock then!”

Dick laughed, all traces of anger gone as his bright eyes glanced at him through the mirror. “Say that to his face, and you get ice cream for a week.”

“Done!”

The illusive Bruce Wayne. Danny had heard the name from the TV that morning, and apparently he was Dick’s dad. Not that Dick ever mentioned him in the months they knew each other. Not that this Bruce guy ever visited on the occasions Dick managed to convince him to stay the night, nor in the weeks after his foster placement was finalized. Danny didn’t even know Dick had a dad until this morning, so clearly something was going on here. 

If he focused on this case—the mystery behind the estrangement of Dick and Bruce—then he’d finally be able to get his mind off Mrs. Bennett’s case. The Shade had approached him early that morning, flickering in the moonlight, barely visible and just formed. Her case was so easy too; her killer was her son-in-law, she’d been awake when he killed her and he’d definitely left behind evidence too, but there was no telling if the other detectives at Bludhaven PD would find it. Or would care enough to find it. 

Corrupt bastards. 

Speaking of which—”Are we actually going to be able to consult on cases while we’re in Gotham, or was that just something you said to make me feel better?”

“I believe I said case, as in the singular one with Mrs. Bennett. But yes, I’ve already arranged it with the Commissioner.” 

“But she works for the Damir family! We can’t trust her.”

“We can’t trust her when it comes to cases related to the Damir family,” Dick corrected. “Other than that, she’s decent at her job.”

“That’s not a compliment.”

“She’s better than the other officers in our department?” he tried again.

“Also not a compliment. I’ve met dead guys that are better cops.”

They bantered back and forth, but the closer they got to Gotham, the tenser Dick became. Dick wasn’t the type to get serious out of nowhere—the only times Danny could remember were when a case involved a gang or that one terrible time when some ugly-ass assassin with a stupid-ass name came to town—but whatever was waiting for them… must be bad. Right? 

Gotham, Danny noticed as they drove through town, looked better than Bludhaven, like how rats look better than turds. Danny had heard the rumors about Gotham, mostly about all the dangerous villains, but there was clearly some money going into infrastructure. Beautiful gothic buildings dripping with gargoyles towered overhead, and there weren’t nearly as many boarded up shops and potholes. 

It wouldn’t have been a bad place to set up shop if it weren’t for all the Shades around.

The ghost population of this dimension mostly comprised of Shades with the occasional Poltergeists and Wraiths. Ectoplasm wasn’t as accessible here; just traveling to this dimension had stripped Danny of almost all the ectoplasm in his body and he still hadn’t recovered, so his powers barely worked. But Shades were shadows of humans when they were alive, weak and incorporeal unless you were a ghost too, barely kept together with their obsession.

Bludhaven had a lot of Shades. That’s why Danny settled down there when he first arrived. He wanted to help people move on if he could, either by solving their murder or contacting their loved ones. 

If Bludhaven had a lot of Shades, Gotham had a colossal number. 

Shades clogged the walkways and the streets, dissipating when someone or something went through them and reforming in an instant. Some alleys were plugged with them and some alleys were empty. Danny watched with wide eyes. Ghosts were supposed to be rare. He’d thought ghosts were rare. But Gotham was plagued with violent crime… violent, unique, indescribable crime, worse in intensity from Bludhaven, but not quite there in frequency. There were women with their faces melted off, men ripped in half down the center, children blown to bits, creeping around the streets of Gotham. 

Danny sunk down in his booster seat. “I want to go home,” he admitted quietly. 

Dick sighed. “I know, kiddo. I want to go home too.”

He blinked away stubborn tears. Dick didn’t understand. This wasn’t Danny’s home, this dimension wasn’t Danny’s home, Dick wasn’t Danny’s home (as much as Danny appreciated Dick, he wanted his family, but they hated him, they attacked him, they—)

Dick continued talking. “But you know what? Everything’s going to be okay. Because my grandfather is going to love you. And Bruce— He’s a little rough around the edges and we might not get along right now, but he’s going to love you too.” Dick sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Danny. “Tim’s going to adore you; he’s told me that he’s always wanted a younger sibling and I can’t blame him; his house looks so lonely and his parents were always gone. He’s staying with Bruce now as a foster since his dad’s in a coma, but he’s been family long before that…”

He listened to Dick continue to ramble about his family. Bruce was rarely touched upon in his stories, but Alfred was spoken of with unmistakable love (Danny never knew his grandparents, Mom and Dad were disowned years before he was born, he could probably guess why), and he clearly adored Tim (He could understand that, Danny loved Jazz with his entire soul, but what would it have been like if he had a younger sibling? Would his relationship with Dani have turned into this if they could’ve spent time together?). Dick continued with stories about his best friend and ex-girlfriend, Barabra (Sam and Tuck, Tuck and Sam, his friends were dead and it's his fault—), and even a few including Tim’s ex-girlfriend too.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think. 

Before long, the car slowed to a stop. Ahead of them was a grand manor, the kind shown in those regency tv shows that Jazz loved watching, with obsessively maintained gardens and beautiful, clean exterior. A stone staircase led up to larger-than-life wooden doors; Danny couldn’t identify what kind of wood, but it was probably something expensive and old. Mahogany? That sounded like an expensive wood. 

Dick put the car in park before turning around in his seat to look at Danny. “Alright, buddy. Are you ready to meet our family?”

“Your family,” Danny corrected mulishly, unbuckling his seat belt. 

“Our family,” Dick said again, smiling. “They’re good people, and they’re going to be here for you.”

“Sure.” Sliding out of his seat and out of the car, Danny stayed slightly behind Dick as they walked up the steps and to the front door. Before Dick could knock or find the doorbell, the doors opened to reveal an old stereotypical butler. He even had a British accent! “Master Grayson,” he addressed Dick coolly, but when he looked at Danny, his expression softened. “And Young Master Daniel. It is good to finally meet you, and welcome to Wayne Manor. I am the family butler, Alfred Pennyworth.”

Danny ducked away. “Danny’s fine,” came his muttered response. 

Alfred smiled. “Young Master Danny, then. Come along; Master Bruce is waiting for you both in the foyer.” 

Dick grimaced. Did that mean something bad? What was a foyer, a fancy word for office? Was Dick going to get scolded?

They followed Alfred into the house (although, calling it a house felt like an understatement). It was even fancier inside, with marble floors and a glistening chandelier overhead. Danny felt significantly out of place in his jeans and ratty coat he’d pulled out of the trash.

There was a man pacing in the room (was this the foyer?). He was dressed in a fancy suit and built like a brick house, but looked similar enough to Dick in a weird funhouse-mirror way. The moment he saw them, his face smoothed into a banal smile and Danny immediately didn’t like him. “Dick! You’re home.” Striding up to them, the man immediately hugged Dick, who stiffly returned it. “Welcome back, chum. And who’s this?”

Dick’s smile was strained. “This is my foster son, Danny. Danny, this is Bruce; I was his ward until I turned 18.” Ouch. Not even a foster son, but a ward? That sounded like a significant step down from fostering. Danny glared at Bruce, who seemed taken aback by his hostility. Dick laughed nervously. “Sorry about him, he’s shy.” Now Danny glared at Dick. 

Bruce’s smiled evened out as he crouched down, like that would hide his fucking massive body. “It’s nice to meet you, Danny,” he said. “I’m very happy you're here. Hopefully it’ll be a lot more peaceful now that you’re staying with us.”

Danny scowled. “Suck a cock, douchebag.”

Bruce’s smile dropped as Dick smothered a laugh. “Watch your mouth,” Dick scolded without any heat behind it. Danny smirked. 

“It’s okay, Dick,” Bruce said, straightening up. “I’m sure Danny’s just shaken up from the sudden change. I’m feel the same, since you didn’t tell any of your friends or family that you were taking in a child.”

“Oh, so you can adopt a child without telling anyone, but when I do it—”

Alfred stepped in. “If you both could contain yourselves a minute longer, I can get the Young Masters settled in. I’ve already arranged a room for you in the family ward, Young Master Danny, if you’d like to rest? It is still rather early in the morning.”

“It might be better to give him a tour of the manor before anything else,” Dick said, eyeing Danny warrily. 

“I’m not going to get lost.”

“Mhmm.” Dick didn’t believe him. 

“I’m not!”

“Just like how you didn’t get lost at the precinct? Or at the morgue? Or at—”

“I never got lost on the streets!” Danny thought that was rather impressive. Besides, it’s not his fault the morgue was just empty hallways that all looked the same!

“The streets are labeled. Besides, you’ll never know where the in-house theater is without a tour.” Dick winked, like that was a big selling point. 

Bruce interrupted them. “Why don't you give him a tour after we talk, Dick? It’s been a long time since we last spoke and I was hoping to ask you about your… recent life change.”

Dick pinched the bridge of nose. “Of course you want to start the interrogation right away,” he muttered, eyebrows furrowed. “Alright, but I don’t want Danny to hear this. Alfie, could you– Tim!” Following Dick’s glance, Danny found a teenager in his fancy pajamas standing on the stairs leading to the second floor. The teen, who looked enough like Dick to be his brother and Bruce’s son, rubbed his eyes like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Tim can take you on the tour! Come on, Danny.” 

Dick ushered Danny up the stairs to Tim. “Will you be okay without me?” Danny asked, not wanting to leave Dick alone with Bruce.

He got a bright smile in return. Danny didn’t trust it. “Of course I will, kiddo. Don’t worry about me, just focus on having fun with Timmy.”

Tim looked blearily between them. “What is going on?”

“You’re taking Danny on a tour so he doesn’t hear me and Bruce fight,” Dick told him plainly. “Danny, this is my brother and Bruce’s foster son, Tim. Tim, this is my foster son, Danny. You two have fun!”

Ignoring Tim’s protests that he hadn’t had breakfast yet, Dick pushed them up the stairs and into the immediate hallway, closing the door behind him. They stared at each other for a moment before Danny pressed his ear against the crack in the door. “When did Dick get a kid?” Tim asked.

“Like, three weeks ago, keep up.” Tim tried to say something again, but Danny shushed him. After a moment, Tim joined him in eavesdropping by the door. 

Dick spoke. “I’ll start. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you both I was fostering a kid. I was planning to inform you after the two month mark and Danny had settled in a bit more, but obviously that plan is out the window.”

“I accept your apology, Master Dick,” Alfred said, and there was a sigh of relief. “However, I would still like to know how this happened in the first place.”

“I’m more interested in knowing how you managed to foster him without us being interviewed as character references.”

“...I may have used my boss’ influence to make sure that only my co-workers were interviewed?” Dick admitted.

“Master Richard.”

“I’m sorry, Alfie, but he’s a flight risk! Do you know how many times I managed to get him to come home with me only for him to disappear in the middle of the night!? Fourteen times! Danny’s admitted that he ran away from his previous home, he still hasn’t told me his real last name, and he’s paranoid enough to give Bruce a run for his money! I’ve just barely managed to gain his trust. I didn’t need Bruce being Bruce to ruin it for us—”

“If you had asked me to stay away, I would have—”

“No you wouldn’t, Bruce! You’d pick and prod and try to uncover his every little secret because you don’t trust me to figure it out myself! If Danny had suspected that someone was looking into his past, he would have bolted, B. And I would have lost him forever.”

Danny nodded. He would have. Not that Bruce would have found anything about his past–the perks of getting stuck in an alternate dimension–but some rich asshole poking his nose in his business? Danny would have snuck onto the next bus out of the city.

“You can barely take care of yourself, Dick!” Bruce insisted. “If it was such a dire situation, then you could have contacted me and I would have–”

“–Lost him immediately because he has a strange hatred for billionaires?” Dick scoffed. “He wouldn’t let you get within six feet of him if you tried to take custody.”

“I–”

“He bites too.”

“Dick–”

“Hard.”

“Richard–”

“And it’s pretty bold of you to say I can’t take care of myself. Have you looked in the mirror recently? Because the word hypocrite is written across your forehead in crayon.”

“But I’m not the one who struggles to make rent each month.” Danny flinched. He’d known that Dick didn’t get paid that much, but was it really that bad? Didn’t Dick get a pay increase when he was made detective? Or was Danny taking so much money that it negated the pay increase— “Nevertheless, I’m not trying to take custody away from you, Dick. I’m just… trying to figure out how we got to this point.”

“We got to this point by not trusting each other,” Dick said tiredly. “And I still don’t trust you, not after what you did.”

Dick, I–”

“No, Bruce. This is my life. Besides you were only a few years older than me when my parents died and you decided to raise me on your own. It’s hypocritical for you to complain that I’m doing the same. Look, I’ve known Danny for over a year–”

“You mean you’ve hid this from me for over a year?”

“Bruce–”

“I knew I should have been suspicious when you got that foster license. You’ve been planning this for months–”

“Bruce!” Dick snapped, and Danny had never heard Dick that mad before, not even the first time they met. “Obviously I’ve been planning this for months! I’ve been planning this since the first week I met Danny! The only reason I got that damn license was for him!” He felt… warm. Danny knew that foster licenses were hard to get, but Dick had really wanted him since the week they met. Danny had been so… feral back then, he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting him, not even Jazz. Dick continued, voice barely audible through the door. “He’s a good kid. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

A sigh. “I just… don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret, that’s all.”

“Are you saying you regret adopting me?” The angry voice was back. “Adopting Jason?”

“That’s not what I meant—!”

Tim pulled him away from the door. “We shouldn’t be listening to this. Come on, let’s start that tour you need.”

Danny tried to pull away, but Tim was deceptively strong for his thin frame. Despite his struggles, he was halfway down the hall before he knew it. “Let me go, cocksleeve!”

“You don’t need to hear that,” Tim said. “Trust me, things always get… heated between them, when Jason is brought up. That’s not something you need to witness.”

Jason, huh? That must be the linchpin in this entire investigation. Dick had never mentioned a Jason before, but he was clearly important if the entire family got bent out of shape for him. Did Dick cut contact with Bruce because of this Jason? Did Jason force Dick to do it? Dick would never abandon his family like that, Danny knew this had to be true because of his determination in trying to take Danny home, but if he was forced to stay away… Maybe Jason is an associate of Bruce that Dick hates?

Danny finally managed to jerk his arm away. His entire hand ached. “You don’t have to drag me!”

Shock crossed Tim’s face, like he’d finally realized what he was doing, before it fell. “I’m sorry, Danny. I shouldn’t have pulled you. It’s just… Jason isn’t something you should hear about, at your age. I would appreciate it if you didn’t bring him up, especially around Bruce. Okay?”

Studying the boy, Danny agreed. Sounds like Jason’s some sort of criminal contact, so it was best to behave carefully. Danny kicked at the ground, scraping dirt off onto the carpet that ran in the center of the hall. “So, what do you guys do for fun around here?” He asked. “I don’t need a tour, I’m not a baby.”

Tim rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I just spent the night in the library, working on a case? If you want to lend a hand with that?”

Danny narrowed his eyes. “I thought you just woke up?”

“...Just because I was in the library doesn’t mean I was awake the entire time.”

Ah, a fellow insomniac. His eyes narrowed further. “I only like interesting cases. What kind are we talking about? Fraud? Robbery? Some dinky school kid project?”

“Multiple homicides. If that’s interesting enough for you?”

“...Carry on.”

A/N: Anyway, I’m using @/jedipirateking’s age chart for the ages of Batman characters. Since we’re right before Under the Red Hood, that makes Dick 24. Danny is roughly a year younger than Damian, but was originally 17 before he was deaged. 

Dick: Yes, this is my feral street child. Danny: *foaming at the mouth, swearing*

Tim, internally: Oh! Dick must have already informed Danny about our identities! They work on cases together too, maybe we can work on one to bond? Danny, internally: Wow, rich people have weird ass hobbies

Danny: *so close, yet so far from figuring out the Jason thing* Red Hood: Did someone just walk over my fucking grave again?

Yes, some things are being kept vague on purpose. That’s for a better reveal in the future.

@starlightcat04 @maeashryver @widderwise @darkstarsapocalypse @sisma @luminanightfall @storm-fire98 @amyheart19 @collectingthegoods @redhoneysugarorange @lordfirecat2004 @screechingnoises @meira-3919 @dannyphannypack @satisfactionbroughtmeback @rowanaway-fromthisbs @i-always-say-yea @avelnfear @some-rotten-nest @ark12 @heirxofxtime @akikkobara @blep-23 @skulld3mort-1fan @markus209 @stargirl1331 @onlyhereforthechaos @inth3world @awkwardmaiden @fantasticbluebirdfan @currant-owo @alice-hazelwood @screamingtofillthevoid @crystalqueertea @gaelicholiday @gmkelz11 @mattybook1987-blog @bytheoldwillowtree @apointlessbox @chemical-pepis @ghostface3100 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @bathildaburp @boo-ghosties @bubblemixer @halfalix @lyra689 @dragon-dancer16 @lunadoll36 @mimilikey @hellomygay @frogs-are-pretty-awesom @overtherose @cyrwrites @your-emo-nightmare @lexdamo @roman4517 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @raginblastocyst @thegatorsgoose @fisticuffsatapplebees @olivethetreebitch @vixen-uchiha @ae-vixrose @joseph557 @kisatamao @gin2212 @thewondersoflebanon @d4ydr34min9 @malice-of-the-sunrise @tiblii @that-awkward-fae-nerd @aph-mable @dolfay @ghostreblogging @wackyattack @writer-extraordinaire @boo-ghosties @coruscateselene @emergentpanda-blog

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 22

Bucky x reader AU

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: SMUTTTTTTTTTT

A/N: Okay so look I don't normally write smut. I've never done it before this is as good as it's gonna get. I apologize in advance xoxoxoxox 🫶🏻💅

The door to the apartment slammed shut with a force that rattled the frame. Sam, who was lounging on the couch with a beer in hand, turned his head fast, eyebrows raised.

“Whoa, buddy, easy there. We’ve got neighbors,” Sam joked, trying to lighten the tension.

Steve stood by the door, his hands on his hips, chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. He muttered, “Sorry,” before running a hand through his hair and stepping into the living room.

Sam sat up straighter, instantly on alert. “Okay… what happened? You look like you’ve just been through the wringer.”

Steve exhaled sharply, moving to the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the fridge. He twisted the cap off and leaned against the counter, taking a long sip before answering. “I ran into her.”

Sam blinked, caught off guard. “Her? You mean Y/N?”

Steve nodded, his jaw tightening. “Yeah.”

Sam frowned, setting his beer on the coffee table. “And?”

“And apparently Natasha asked her for space,” Steve said, his tone heavy with frustration.

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Nat? Why?”

Steve’s laugh was humorless as he pushed off the counter and paced the room. “Because of me.”

Sam leaned forward, now completely invested. “What do you mean because of you?”

Steve stopped pacing, raking a hand through his hair again. “Y/N told me that Natasha’s in love with me.”

Sam choked on his beer mid-sip, coughing violently as he tried to recover. “I’m sorry, what?”

Steve’s expression was grim. “Apparently, Nat’s been in love with me for years.”

Sam blinked rapidly, trying to process. “I mean… I always noticed the looks, but I didn’t know it was like that.”

Steve froze, narrowing his eyes at Sam. “What looks?”

Sam raised his hands defensively. “The longing looks, man. Nat’s good at hiding her feelings, but every once in a while, when you’re looking at Y/N, Nat’s looking at you like…” He trailed off, shrugging. “Like she wishes you’d look at her that way.”

Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line as he grabbed a chair and sank into it, cracking open the beer. He took another sip before saying, “That’s not all.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up again. “Oh, God, what else? I swear this shits gonna be the death of me.”

Steve stared at the table, his voice low. “I told her.. she shouldn’t be with Bucky. That she should be with me.”

This time, Sam didn’t just choke—he spit out his beer entirely, coughing and spluttering. “You said what?! Steven I—”

Steve ignored him, cutting him off, his words tumbling out in a flood. “I couldn’t hold it in, Sam. Seeing her with him, hearing about how they’re just together now like it was always meant to be—because apparently it is, but it’s just killing me. And I said it. I told her she should be with me.”

Sam stared at him, wide-eyed. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

Steve sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “And then she said…” His voice wavered slightly. “She said we’re all leaving her. Nat, me, and apparently you.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Sam shifted uncomfortably, his beer suddenly less appealing.

Steve’s sharp gaze locked onto him. “What did she mean by that, Sam?”

Sam hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the beer bottle. “I was gonna talk to you tonight,” he admitted.

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Talk to me about what?”

Sam let out a breath, leaning back into the couch. “I got a promotion at work.”

Steve’s eyes lit up briefly with surprise. “That’s great, man. Holy shit, congratulations!”

Sam gave a small, bittersweet smile. “Thanks. But, uh… the thing is, it’s across the country, to Washington to be exact, I’ll be moving in two weeks.”

Steve’s face fell, and he let out a quiet, “Shit.”

Sam nodded, the weight of the confession heavy in the room. “Yeah. I didn’t want to drop this on you all at once, but I guess it’s as good a time as any.”

Steve stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m proud of you, Sam. Really. You deserve this. But damn…” He ran a hand through his hair again. “Looks like I’ll need to move.”

Sam chuckled softly. “Yeah, sorry about that. Maybe at the next farmers market Nat will buy you the rest of the farm ceramics you can move em into my room, start charging rent..”

Steve snorted, though the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. The two of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their respective issues hanging in the air.

Finally, Sam broke the silence. “So… what are you gonna do about Natasha?”

Steve looked down at his beer, his expression conflicted. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m not even sure I’m in the right headspace to do anything about it.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Fair enough. But you know she deserves better than waiting around for you to figure it out, right?”

Steve’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I know,” he said quietly.

“And what about Y/N? What are you gonna do about what you said to her?”

Steve sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. She probably told Bucky by now, and I’m sure he’s ready to kill me.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, you really stepped in it this time, man.”

Steve shot him a look. “Thanks for the support.”

Sam shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Hey, I’m just saying what we’re both thinking. You’re gonna have to figure this out, Steve. Because right now? It’s a mess.”

Steve let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

They both sat there in silence again, the enormity of everything weighing heavily on them. Sam finally clapped Steve on the shoulder. “Look, no matter how much of a shitshow this is, it won't be like this forever man, its us, all of us.”

Steve gave him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Sam said, leaning back. “You’ve got some serious damage control to do first.”

As the weight of the conversation hung in the air, Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He let out a dramatic sigh, running a hand over his face before shooting Steve a mock-serious look.

“Y’know, I can’t leave in good conscience if all my children aren’t okay,” he said, gesturing broadly as if addressing a group.

Steve frowned, confused. “Your children?”

Sam smirked, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Yeah, my children. You, Y/N, Bucky, Nat, Wanda—this whole dysfunctional friend group minus Wanda actually, shes just a saint, hallelujah! But you’re all like my unruly little kids, and I need you to get your shit together before I move halfway across the country. Otherwise, I’m gonna feel guilty as hell.”

Steve snorted, but there was a faint glimmer of a smile at the corner of his lips. “We’re not your kids, Sam.”

“Oh, really?” Sam raised an eyebrow, sitting up straighter. “Who’s the one everyone comes crying to when things go south? Who’s the one playing mediator when y’all start tearing each other apart? Me. I’m the glue holding this chaos together, Rogers.”

Steve let out a soft laugh despite himself, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize we put you through so much, Dad.”

“Damn right,” Sam said with a mock scowl. “You’re lucky I’m so patient. Now, can we please work on fixing this mess before I have to catch a plane? I’ve got enough to worry about without you and Natasha staring at each other from across the room like you’re in a sad indie film.”

Steve sighed, leaning back into the couch and swirling his beer. “I’ll figure it out, Sam.”

Sam gave him a look. “You better. ‘Cause I’m not above locking you and everyone in a room together and waiting it out.”

Steve laughed quietly, shaking his head. “You’re relentless.”

“And you love me for it,” Sam quipped, standing up and clinking his beer against Steve’s. “Now, get your ass in gear, Rogers. Fix it with the fam. And maybe don’t confess your love to someone who’s already taken next time.”

Steve winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, message received.”

Sam smirked. “Good. Now, can we chill for the rest of the night? Or do I have to keep playing therapist?”

Steve chuckled, clinking his beer against Sam’s again. “No more therapy sessions tonight.”

Sam grinned. “That’s what I thought. Now pass me the pretzels.”

Natasha slammed the door behind her, the sharp sound echoing through the apartment. She tossed her bag onto the floor and leaned back against the doorframe, her hands gripping the strap of her jacket like a lifeline. Her jaw was tight, and her eyes were red, like she was holding back the last thread of control she had.

Wanda poked her head out from the kitchen, her wooden spoon mid-stir in a pot of something fragrant. Her brows furrowed at Natasha’s expression. “Woah, what happened? You look like you’ve just walked out of a war zone.”

Natasha let out a bitter laugh, kicking her shoes off aggressively and heading toward the couch. “Might as well have.”

“Okay, uh is this serious?” Wanda abandoned her cooking, setting the spoon down and following Natasha into the living room. She perched on the arm of the couch as Natasha sank into it, her hands immediately rubbing at her temples. “Spill.”

Natasha exhaled sharply, her voice biting. “I snapped at Y/N.”

Wanda blinked, tilting her head. “About what?”

“About Bucky. About Steve. About everything.” Natasha waved a hand, her frustration clear. “She came to me asking for advice on Bucky. Apparently, he lied to her about going out for drinks with Sam, and she just wanted to talk it through. But instead of helping her, I completely lost it.”

Wanda’s face softened with understanding. “What did you say?”

Natasha hesitated, guilt flickering across her face. “I told her she was overthinking it. Being dramatic like always. And then… I told her I needed space.”

Wanda’s mouth fell open slightly, but Natasha wasn’t done.

“And then,” Natasha continued, her voice tightening with self-loathing, “I told her I didn’t understand why Steve was in love with her and not… not me, told her she wasn’t anything special.”

“Oh my god, Natasha…,” Wanda murmured, her tone gentle but disappointed.

“I know, i know…” Natasha said quickly, her voice cracking. “I know how shitty it was. But I couldn’t stop myself. She’s so… happy right now. With Bucky, finally. And I’m standing here, watching her and then watching Steve fall apart while I’m—” She broke off, running her hands through her hair. “I’m stuck. Just stuck.”

Wanda leaned forward, trying to catch Natasha’s gaze. “You’re not stuck, Nat. You’re hurting. But you’ve got to stop projecting that onto her.”

Natasha scoffed bitterly. “She said all she wanted was advice. Advice on Bucky, of all people. And I couldn’t even give her that without making it about me.”

Wanda’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Because it is about you, Nat. Not her. You’re angry with Steve for not seeing you the way you want him to. You’re angry with yourself for not saying anything sooner. And yeah, maybe you’re a little angry that she’s happy with Bucky while you’re feeling invisible. But you can’t blame her for any of that.”

Natasha’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “I know, I know, but it feels so unfair, Wanda. Why am I always the one standing on the sidelines? Why does it always feel like I’m waiting for something that’s never going to happen?”

Wanda sighed, sliding off the armrest and sitting next to Natasha. She placed a comforting hand on her friend’s knee. “Nat, you’ve spent so much time watching from the sidelines that you’ve convinced yourself you belong there. But you don’t. You deserve to be in the center of someone’s world, just like she is to Bucky.”

“And what if that someone is Steve?” Natasha whispered, her voice trembling.

Wanda hesitated, her heart aching for her friend. “Then you need to figure out if it’s worth the risk. But Nat… if you want Steve to see you, you have to give him the chance. You can’t keep hiding how you feel.”

Natasha wiped at her eyes angrily. “What if it’s too late? What if he’s too far gone on Y/N?”

Wanda gave her a sad smile. “Steve’s not too far gone, but before anything can happen, he needs to work through his feelings for her. And you… you need to figure out what you really want.”

Natasha nodded slowly, her voice barely audible. “I just don’t want to lose her, Wanda. Or Steve. Or any of you.”

“You won’t,” Wanda assured her. “We’re too close for that. But you’ve got to be honest—with her, with Steve, and most importantly, with yourself.”

Natasha leaned back against the couch, letting out a shuddering breath. “I’ll talk to her. Just… not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” Wanda agreed. She stood, patting Natasha on the shoulder. “Come on, babe. I’ve got pasta in the kitchen. Food always helps.”

Natasha let out a weak laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Pasta sounds good.”

The cabin looked exactly as you remembered it, nestled in the woods with its rustic charm intact. The wooden exterior was weathered but sturdy, and the scent of pine trees and earth filled the crisp air.

Bucky had insisted on carrying your bags, his easy smile making it impossible to argue. Now, as he unlocked the door and pushed it open, you were flooded with memories of your childhood and the countless weekends spent here with the group.

"Home sweet home," Bucky said softly, stepping aside to let you in.

The inside was just as cozy as you remembered - worn furniture, a stone fireplace, and the faint scent of cedar lingering in the air. A fire was already crackling in the hearth, casting a warm, flickering glow across the room.

"You did all this?" you asked, turning to him.

Bucky shrugged, a boyish grin tugging at his lips.

"Figured it'd be nice to have it ready for you."

Your heart swelled as you dropped your coat onto the couch, taking in the space. It felt so intimate now, just the two of you surrounded by memories and the quiet of the woods.

"Bucky," you started, your voice soft, "this is perfect."

His eyes softened, and he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "You deserve perfect."

After getting all settled, which didnt take long thanks to Bucky already doing everything, the two of you sat by the fire, a bottle of wine on the table between you and an easy warmth filling the room. You couldn't stop smiling, leaning against Bucky's shoulder as you talked about everything and nothing.

"Remember the time Steve got stuck on the roof because Nat dared him to climb up there?" Bucky said, laughing as he rubbed small circles on your shoulder.

You giggled, the memory vivid. "And you were the one who had to help him down. He wouldn't stop screaming about how he was gonna die."

Bucky tilted his head back, laughing. "It was his own fault for taking the dare. Dumb ass."

The sound of his laughter filled the cabin, and you couldn't help but stare at him. His eyes crinkled at the corners, his head tilted slightly, and his hand stayed firmly on you, grounding you in the moment.

"Hey," Bucky said, noticing your gaze. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

You bit your lip, a flush creeping up your cheeks.

"Just... how happy I am. I didn't think I would have something like this, especially with you it feels surreal."

Bucky's expression softened, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "You and me both, I'm scared I'm going to wake up one day and not have you like this... but loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."

Before you could respond, he stood and walked to the fireplace, picking up a small leather-bound book from the mantel. He turned it over in his hands, his fingers tracing the edges as if gathering the courage to part with it.

“What’s that?” you asked, tilting your head, curiosity softening your voice.

Bucky’s gaze flicked to yours, hesitant but filled with something deeper—hope, love, fear. He walked back, sitting down beside you and holding the book out. “It’s for you.”

Your brow furrowed as you reached for it, your fingers brushing against the worn leather. It felt warm from his hands, and across the front, your name was scrawled in his familiar, messy handwriting.

“It’s… letters,” he began, his voice quiet, almost uncertain. “Letters, things, random thoughts or things i just wanted to say to you but never did because I was a coward.”

Your breath caught as you opened the book, the creak of the spine breaking the silence between you. The first page was dated years ago, the ink slightly faded but unmistakably his handwriting.

You began to read aloud:

“Y/N,

Today, I saw you laugh at something Steve said, and it hit me how much I love that sound. I know I'm only 17 but I’d do anything to hear it every day for the rest of my life.”

Your voice broke on the last word, your eyes already filling with tears. You looked up at him, stunned, but he just gave you a small, nervous smile.

You flipped to another random page.

“Y/N,

I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked tonight, but the words caught in my throat. I wish I was braver, wish I could just say it, but what if it changes everything? What if I lose you? I can't lose you.”

Tears spilled freely now as you flipped through the pages, each one a snapshot of Bucky’s heart. The dates led all the way back to your teenage years, to the very beginning of your friendship.

“Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling as the weight of his words settled over you. “This is….”

He hesitated, his eyes searching yours. “Is it too much?” he asked softly, his vulnerability laid bare.

You shook your head, setting the book down gently before throwing your arms around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. "No, its everything... its perfect. You're perfect."

His hands settled on your waist, holding you tightly as if afraid you might slip away.

"You've always been everything to me," he murmured against your hair, the words barely audible.

The air shifted, charged with emotion and years of longing finally laid bare. When you pulled back to look at him, his eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world fell away. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned in, and your lips met his.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, as if testing the boundaries of this newfound vulnerability. But it quickly deepened, the years of pent-up emotion pouring out with every touch, every movement.

His hands slipped under your sweater, his calloused palms warm against your skin. The contact made you gasp, and he used the opportunity to pull you closer, his grip firm but careful, as though you were something precious.

"God, I love you," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with need and emotion.

Your heart swelled, and vou whispered back, "I love you too."

His forehead rested against yours as his breathing mingled with yours. His eyes searched yours, filled with unspoken questions and promises. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low, almost trembling.

"I've never been more sure of anything," you said, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart.

He smiled then, a soft, genuine smile that made you fall all over again. He kissed you deeply, his hands traveling up your back with a reverence that made your entire body hum.

As he laid you back gently against the couch, his lips never leaving yours, the world outside ceased to exist. His touch was both careful and consuming, his hands exploring every inch of your skin as if committing you to memory. Each touch felt like a declaration, a promise.

"You're everything to me," he whispered, his lips brushing the curve of your jaw. "I want to give you the world."

"You already have," you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed his way down your neck.

When his fingertips trailed down the slope of your breast, a jolt of sensation arced through your body, making your breath catch in the back of your throat. Every nerve ending seemed to come alive at once, and your pulse quickened, pounding a wild rhythm that made your head spin. The featherlight touch sent shivers skittering up your spine, each one a thousand points of sensation that made every inch of you ache with hunger.

His mouth found the peak of one breast, his lips closing around it in a slow, languid kiss. You gasped at the wet heat of his tongue, at the way his lips pulled gently at the sensitive flesh. Your body arched into him instinctively, craving more, demanding it with a want so overwhelming that it eclipsed everything else.

“Bucky,” you gasped, his name tumbling from your lips like a plea. Your hands clutched at his hair, guiding him back up to your mouth where you could devour him in a kiss.

He moved with you, letting you pull him closer, urging you to take what you needed. When he rolled you onto your back, his body settling between your legs, you felt his hardness press against you. You wanted to feel him—his bare skin sliding against yours, the heat of him sinking into your core—but you also didn’t want to let go of the kiss, didn't want this moment of connection to be severed.

He seemed to read your mind because his lips never left yours as he guided your hands down his body. He let you unbutton his jeans, and the sound of his zipper coming undone sent another rush of heat through you. When your fingers found his length, a low groan tore from his throat, vibrating against your lips.

“I want you,” you whispered, the words almost lost in the wetness of the kiss.

His response was immediate—a low growl that bordered on a whimper. “Oh, God, I’ve been waiting so long for this, for you sweetheart” he muttered, his hand slipping between your legs. “You’re so wet for me.”

His words were like fuel to the fire, sparking a hunger so deep and primal within you that it hurt. You pushed against his touch, seeking friction, seeking anything that would give you the release you craved. He understood, his fingers stroking you with a careful precision that made your entire body clench.

You moaned, the word breathless with need. Your hips arched up, moving in tandem with his strokes. The pressure built, like something coiling within you, waiting to burst.

He gave you more, sliding a finger into you, then two, curling them deep as though searching for a sweet spot that would unravel you completely. You gasped when he found it, his gentle strokes hitting it over and over until you were trembling beneath him.

“Bucky, I—” The words died on your lips when he slid a third finger inside you. The sensation was almost overwhelming, his touch, his kiss, the need burning through you, all mixing together until it was impossible to focus on anything but him.

The world tilted, your body shuddering with a wave of sensation, and then you were flying, soaring above everything else as your release hit you like a tidal wave. Your head tipped back, mouth opening on a silent cry, the feeling almost too intense to bear. Every nerve ending in your body seemed to crackle with electricity, the pleasure like a thousand bolts of lightning exploding within you.

When you came back down from the high of your orgasm, Bucky was kissing your neck, his breath warm against your skin. He looked up at you, his blue eyes shining with a softness you’d never seen before, and the sight made your chest hurt.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough with emotion. “Always. Forever.”

Your fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him into another kiss. “I love you too,” you murmured against his lips. “So much Buck”

He smiled at you, and there was so much affection and adoration in his eyes that it threatened to overwhelm you all over again.

You reached for him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as he settled between your thighs. He slid into you slowly, filling you, stretching you until you were full with the length of him. It wasn’t enough, though. You needed more—needed his breath to mingle with yours, needed his skin to be flush against yours.

When he pulled out, you whimpered in protest, but he just smiled down at you, a gentle smile that made your heart swell with emotion. He grasped your hips, pulling you into a sitting position as he settled onto his back. The movement brought him deeper within you, and the sensation was so overwhelming that you had to catch your breath.

“I want you on me,” Bucky whispered, his eyes holding yours as he lifted you, helping you find a rhythm that left you both breathless. “I want to see you.”

You started to move “Baby,” Bucky moaned, his eyes locked onto your body moving above him. “Oh, fuck.”

The words were guttural, filled with so much emotion that it threatened to overwhelm everything else. You could feel him throbbing within you, his length swelling, stretching you further than you thought possible. The feeling was almost too much to handle, yet at the same time, it wasn’t enough.

“Harder,” you gasped, your voice barely audible over your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Your fingers found Bucky’s, linking with them as his hips began to move faster beneath yours. “Deeper. Please.”

He groaned at your words, the sound dark and edged with desperation. “I’m close,” he warned, but you could tell he wanted to wait, wanted to ensure you reached your orgasm first.

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his ear. “Come with me,” you urged, your words a soft whisper that turned into a moan when he hit your sweet spot again. The feeling was so intense you felt yourself begin to unravel, pleasure flooding you until it seemed to spill over.

“Yes,” Bucky muttered, the word a dark growl, his hips bucking up hard as his length thickened, pulsing with an imminent release. “Oh, fuck..”

Your body tensed at the same time as his, the pleasure cresting until it seemed impossible to hold back the orgasm any longer. It hit you like a wave, pulling you under with such force that you were powerless to do anything but let it consume you.

Bucky’s mouth found yours, muffling your cries of pleasure as he began to come. You could feel him throbbing within you, warm heat spilling into you, filling you until the sensation was almost too overwhelming to bear.

Time seemed to stretch and compress all at once, the only sound was your ragged breathing, and his quiet grunts of pleasure as his body emptied into yours. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, making your lungs feel tight with the sheer force of the feeling.

Finally, your high began to ebb, leaving you both breathless and boneless, bodies trembling as though the pleasure had taken every ounce of strength you possessed. Bucky’s arms found their way around you, holding you close as though trying to absorb you into himself. When you looked up, his eyes were gazing back at you, filled with an emotion that stole whatever breath you had left in your lungs.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice a soft sound that seemed lost amidst the pounding of your heartbeat.

His smile was slow to form, but when it did, it lit up his whole face. His lips brushed over yours, the kiss warm and lingering. “Mine.”

“Yours.” You pressed one last kiss to his mouth, your lips lingering on the word.

[lonelystarrs]

The Pudding

Barou Shouei x FemReader (Ft Isagi Yoichi)

Barou was acting like you’d been winding him up to brat tame, however you’d been on your best behaviour since Isagi came to crash with you guys for awhile, who knew he’d be such a homewrecker and not even release it was his fault. That pudding Barou was obsessed with do be good though!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI • DomBarou • smut • Barou being Barou. • dirty talk -filth • this do be spicy get your face fans out• 5 years after Blue Lock • Isagi temporary house mate causing arguments • crack • established relationship • the ending tho 💀 isagi you homewrecker.

Frantic, aggressive and a borderline bully -Barou Shouei was showing all these traits when he’d stomped his way over to you, red eyes glowing as his figured shadow drew closer.

Normally you’d do something to warrant this kind of a reaction from him, brat taming you was something he enjoyed and something you found amusing to draw out in him.

Today however? You hadn’t done anything, in fact since Isagi came to crash a couple of days ago with you both for a few weeks you’d been pretty good. Barou only allowed it because Isagi was easy to live with, he knew this from his days in blue lock, collecting laundry and at least trying to aid his level of OCD with cleaning. He was respectful and he, unknowingly to you or anyone else owed Isagi a favour.

Why? That secret would die with Barou -and with Isagi if he kept his word on not telling anyone. Barou had actually asked him to try find out your ring sizes, which he had successfully done -fuck knows how he pulled it off and fuck knows how Barou bit his pride to ask. He wanted someone outside to get the job done, he himself or his sisters would be way too obvious. Apparently he took you shopping with Bachira who you had a soft spot for, the guys eccentric personality made it easy to fall for, he made you try on a load of stacking rings and Isagi remembered the one for your ring finger, clever little shit Barou had to give him that.

“W-wait Barou, s-slow down-“

You tried to tighten your thighs together in an attempt to block him but he’d only pushed his weight by his hips further into you causing you to spread them.

Normally Barou would prep you, much needed considering how thick and long this guy was, he was built like a god head to toe and taking him was always a stretch.

You were actually a little worried at how fired up he was, but equally excited by his sudden attitude shift, he was fine this morning but he was borderline feral at the moment.

Barou snorted a laugh, red eyes looking up to you as he held himself over you. Hands planted by your sides as you gripped onto his forearms to brace yourself, his huge biceps bulging as he held his own weight above you. His shoulders looked fucking huge, pure muscle hovering over you as sweat dripped from his body from his wound up he was getting not even cooling down after he finished a work out. His cock rested hard on your stomach, leaking at the tip.

“Huh? Where’s that cocky attitude gone, girl?”

Eyes returning down he watch himself as he lifted his hips, flexing his thick, heavy cock to hit his stomach watching the pre cum link between him, before dropping it down to press the thick tip to your entrance. You clenched around nothing as he pressed against you, easing the head in.

His deep voice making bumps rise on your skin, there was nothing unmanly about this guy, he oozes testosterone and gruffness, but that voice? God it got you every time, especially when he was threatening you.

“I’ll warn you now-“ he glanced up at you, his gaze harsh as he kept eye contact “-I’d find something to hold onto if I were you. You’re getting devoured, teach you to stop pissing me off.”

You swallowed and he was drinking in how vulnerable you looked under him, eyes glazed and doe like, it sent his ego soaring. The growl that left his chest was feral, eyes flashing as he tried to control himself from pushing himself in with one thrust.

Barou was mean, but not a complete sadist.

You moved a hand to press against the headboard behind you, the other remaining on his forearm.

He felt the tight ring of your cunt protest as he pushed the head in, you were so tight he couldn’t pull the head back as it gripped onto him and it was game over for you when he felt it sucking his cock in.

He pushed through to the hilt, bullying this thick cock through your velvety walls as they gripped him, milking any precum he had crawling up his dick.

“Fucking hell s’fucking warm, how you stay this tight huh? This cock not fucked you enough times?” he breathed out, not once dropping that gruffness his voice carried. He pressed his forehead against yours looking down at his cock buried in you. Barou was big, he had the length and the thickness but this man knew how to roll his cock into you.

“B-Barou s’too much please just -“

“Tch, thought you knew what you were in for? Acting cocky and now whinin’ cause you can’t take me? Suck it up princess, wanna help yourself? Reach down and play with your clit as I fuck you, it’s the only mercy you’re getting.”

You whimpered under him, your hips twitching to try angle yourself better as your pussy clenched around him.

Despite years of being together he was still a stretch to take especially when he’d been away for a few weeks for soccer and you’d not had him. This time, it was because he’d remained rather tame while Isagi was crashing at your place whilst he moved into his new one.

You had no idea why Barou was so pissed off, he only got like this when you’d been teasing him or winding him up until he entered his brat taming mode.

This time though -you hadn’t.

You pussy was soaking, drooling to your ass and over his cock and balls, he tilted his hips so the hilt of his dick rubbed your clit and you threw your head back with an unholy moan.

He withdrew slowly, a deep groan leaving him as he watched his thick dick slide from you covered in slick.

“You’re a mess, acting like you can’t handle it but she’s drooling for me-“ he thrust sharply, hitting that spot in you that made your breath hitch, your mouth fell open as you looked down in slight worry, your hand on his forearm quickly pressed against his six pack.

“Found it already huh? Tch, too easy thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

He rolled his hips beautifully into you, setting a pace that was borderline cruel -hard but not quiet fast enough to build your orgasm as quick as you’d want it.

Barou watched your tits bounce with each thrust into your pussy, hugging him begging it to fill you with his cum, but he wasn’t done yet.

Your vision blurred as he shifted you, only to focus again as he looked down on you folded beneath him. He had hooked both arms under your knees to push you upwards under him, folding you in half as his hands grip the head board behind you to stabilise himself.

Your eyes widened at what he was about to do, tears gathering in your eyes as he moulded you into his own version of a mating press. Mounting you like some animal as he stared down at his prey.

“You’re fucked now, woman.”

His first thrust hit so deep you almost seen stars, head kissing your cervix as he pushed to the hilt whilst rotating his hips in circles.

“Your safe word, you got it?” You nodded dumbly and he pressed a kiss to your leg, a fleeting moment of showing his softness before his annoyance for whatever triggered this took him over again.

Your hand moved to press a finger to your clit and Barou’s eyes followed to watch you rub circles into it, matching his pace to each round.

He was impossibly deep even he could feel resistance to how deeply he’d managed to bury himself into you -actual pride swelling in his chest at you being such a champ and taking him like this. Your clit was hard and burning under the pad of your finger as you eased towards cumming for him. Each squelch of his cock bullying into you, each slap of his skin as his balls hit your ass every moan that left your throat as you begged and spurred him.

Slurring words of adoration for him as he drank everything you gave him, his ego soaring with his heart as he started to rut into you violently. Knuckles turning white as his gripped the head board, sweat dripping from him onto you under him as he pushed himself physically.

“Fuck,” a frustrated growl left him, “-fuck you’re too fucking good.” His words through grunts as he kept up a feral pace. “-you’re fucking made for me.”

“Y-yes!”

“Yeah? You made for this king? Made to take this dick?”

“M-made for you- Ngh-Barou I’m gonna- hah- please I’m cumming, Barou- y-yes there, please-“

“Yeah? Keep fucking begging n slurring all dumb like that, makes me wanna devour you.”

He felt you start to roll your hips under him, your spare hand blinded reaching for his on the head board, finding it you gripped it, fingers laying over his. The finger on your clit started stuttering, picking up a fast messy pace.

“Cummin’ f’you- Bar-King, fuckfuckfuck!”

He smugly watched you lose it under him, body tightening and your toes curling, feeling your pussy clamp around him made him buckle slightly, edging him towards his own release. He didn’t ease you down, instead Barou shifted another gear as his pace turned fast and hard.

“S’Kings gonna fill that pretty cunt up-“

He flipped his hand, twisting it to lace his fingers through yours and planting beside your head, letting one of your legs lower. Barou pressed his lips to your leg still held up by his other, placing wet kisses between bites, panting through his nose as he groan into your skin holding between his teeth.

His thrusts turned sloppy but kept their hardness fucking into you like an alpha fucking his mate through a rut.

“Take it all -fuuuuuck!”

He hunched over you pressing his hips to yours as he spilled into you, cock flexing inside you as he moaned into your leg, red eyes half hooded and glazed. His hips twitched against you as you clenched around him, stomach muscles flexing in little spasms as he came hard emptying into you.

The room was filled with both your panting, coming down from your highs and Barou released you, sitting back onto his folded legs spread. You whimpered as his cock pulled from you now half hard as he softened. Your legs bent up and still spread, shaking as you felt the tremors start to inch up your body. Hands shaking you sat up onto your elbows, Barou was still breathing heavy, red eyes fixed on your swollen pussy starting to leak out his cum and he groaned again. It was the only kind of mess he deemed somewhat acceptable. Running a hand through his hair you could see him shaking lightly, a smug smirk made it’s way to your face.

“The fuck is with that smug smile? Knock it off,”

“You’re shaking.”

“I fucking wouldn’t be if you hadn’t ate the last pudding!”

“What?” You deadpanned at him, “-I didn’t.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I didn’t eat it and it was there this morning.”

“-wait, Barou did you just fuck me like that cause you thought I ate your last pudding?!”

“Hardly the first time, you act like a brat to get fucked like one. Got what you wanted now go out and replace it!”

“I can’t fucking walk! You literally just beat my pussy up!”

“Yeah? I’ll do it again until you stop stealing my shit!”

“I didn’t eat it Barou!”

Meanwhile Isagi sat in the spare room listening to you both from across the hall. -completely forgotten about that he was currently residing with you guys and was actually in the building.

An impressively raging hard on at the inspirational rough sex he’d just heard whilst looking down at his hands, one with a spoon and the other holding an empty container for pudding. He’d been eating it whilst you guys fucked like animals in your bedroom. Like popcorn at a cinema.

Man, Barou really liked his damn pudding, Isagi didn’t think he’d heard him that angry since he called the king a donkey back in Blue Lock 5 years ago.

He shrugged and cleaned the spoon off, ah well Barou didn’t know it was actually him who’d stolen the last pudding, ‘sides it was worth it listening to that.

© pharix 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.

[darkbluekies]

I've been thinking about this - Hedwig can be very scary. It's all fun and laughter as long as Reader enjoys her sweet personality and as long as Reader stays within certain boundaries and accepts Hedwig's attention. But damn, this girl has the ability and power to make you available to her. And because of her sweet character and apparent innocence, it is very easy to believe that she has nothing to do with it and does not harbor any… dark motives. Scary. The perfect deception, a trap that you won't see until it's too late. And the worst thing is that she doesn’t pretend to be nice, she’s really nice and doesn’t want to hurt or harm, she wants Reader all the best. Reader just has to be close to her. The realization of the potential horror for the reader from Hedwig came to me suddenly and strongly. So much potential anxiety and pain from the betrayal of expectations!

I KNOWWW that's why she's such a cool character!!!! Hedwig doesn't actually have any dark motives or "plans" for you, like the others, she really is nice. She's just so desperately in love with you and the thought of not having you terrifies her. She can buy whatever she wants, but she can't buy your love, forgivness or emotions. She doesn't want any harm to you, she just want a normal relationship with you. If you do, you will have a relationship that is 90% normal.

But what if you stop liking her? Or if you realize that there is something off about her? She will become DESPERATE and will lose her cool. She will cry, beg, scream, plead. If you don't give in to her tears, she will force you to stay, by either terrifiedly threatening you or physically stopping you. She will tie you, lock you in.

She just want a picture perfect family, and she want it with you! To her, everyone is trying to impress her. She can buy them with money. But not you. That's why she loves you so much. In a world of fakes, you are real. You love her. And that's why you need to stay.

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Meet Up

We are so close you all! So so so close :3 @spotaus get in here friend :D

It is so nice to just uplaod the first drafts of these drabbles! :D Makes them so easy to make and finish <3

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

*---------------------*

Killer runs straight home and doesn’t bother to act as if he has a normal monsters stamina. He needs to get home now and warn the others.

He is so lucky that Ellie kept him out of sight from Dream and Blue.

Because apparently those two are here now!

How did they even find them?! Especially as Ellie told him that she thinks they are looking for them.

Yeah no kidding! Killer didn’t even bother to deny it as he muttered he just needed to get home. Ellie advised him to go behind the buildings as that is mostly out of sight and should keep him hidden and out of sight.

Killer quickly set off to get home.

He is by now just running through the forest and going full speed. The LOVE in him making it easy to keep running for long times and boosting both his speed and his stamina.

He gets out of the forest in their area and rushes into the house.

Killer searches and relaxes as he sees Nightmare right in the nest where he should be. Nightmare seems to be scribbling in his little journal.

Horror walks out of the kitchen and he looks around worried himself “Crop just called.”

Killer nods as he pants “Dream and Blue are in town.”

Nightmare freezes and looks between them panicked.

Killer goes to Nightmare’s side and looks at Horror “Cross and Dust?”

Horror speaks “should be in the garden. I will get them.” and he goes outside.

Nightmare whines softly and Killer quickly pulls Nightmare close “It is okay tiny boss. No one is going to get you.” No one. Killer is going to allow anyone to touch their baby. Nightmare is their just as much as they all are Nightmare’s.

Horror returns with Cross and Dust and they all sit in the nest as they discuss what just happened.

As expected Dust immediately went around to close all the curtains and check the locks while Cross looks anxious “What if they find this place? I know we are hidden but everyone in town knows where we live. What if someone believes them and sends them our way?”

Horror shakes his skull “They won’t. Crop and Straw are going to make sure people don’t say stuff and they know not to talk about other people’s personal stuff.” Horror has yet to stop rubbing Nightmare’s tiny skull to reassure him.

Nightmare just stays plastered against Killer’s front. His souls is getting slightly squished between them but Killer doesn’t mind and it feels nice to feel Nightmare that close.

Dust nods “We stay inside. Stay quiet and lay low. Keep an eye out. We already did the big harvest and sale anyway. We can afford to hide before we need to prepare the farm for winter.”

Killer nods and grins at Nightmare “That sound okay baby? Just relax and cuddle in the nest together?”

Nightmare looks a bit unsure still but nods as she nuzzles closer to Killer and a part of Killer melts at the sight. Killer holds him close and purrs softly “That is it baby. Just let us worry about these type of things okay?”

Their phone rings in the kitchen and Dust stalks over to it before picking it up but not saying a single word. He listens for a moment before speaking “Crop.” He listens again and gives a small nod “You two can come by.” And he hangs up quickly afterwards.

They remain near each other as they talk about possible ideas on how to keep an eye out but not run the risk of being spotted. They quickly settle on that Cross can go around to check things while invisible but that he shouldn’t engage any combat. They are just discussing if Cross can keep someone else with himself invisible for long times when they hear a knock on the door.

A quick check later and they invite Straw and Crop in.

The two brothers tell them what happened with Blue and Dream in town and confirm that they are very obviously looking for them.

Straw slowly holds up a package of papers “I do think you may want to read these.”

Dust frowns and takes them to read through quickly together with Cross.

Straw nods “For what we could see. They seemed honest about it all! Even if they are rather pushy in the way they go about it.”

Crop walks out of the kitchen where he cleaned up some groceries “The others in town all agreed the two are shifty and not to be trusted.” Then a bit more amused “Heads up. They also kinda assumed that either or both of them are Nightmare’s other parent.”

Dust freezes and makes gagging noises at the very idea while Horror chuckles and pats his back.

Cross pouts as he crosses his arms and mutters about Dust being way out of their league and Killer snorts as he nuzzles Nightmare “Better for us. Makes everyone want to keep the two away from us with all the ground work we laid concerning the ‘other parent’ and how they were messed up.”

Nightmare just shrugs as he stays close with Killer.

Dust focusses back on the papers and frowns “Are they for real with this?”

Crop shrugs “We aren’t sure. They seemed honest but we can’t check the multiverse stuff easily.”

Killer frowns as he takes the paper to read through it with Nightmare as the others discuss ways to check if they really are truthful about it.

The announcement that Dream hadn’t done his job right. How Nightmare had been right. That Nightmare had never been a danger to the multiverse. How Dream had made things more complicated and how he should never have involved others into the mess.

How Dream never was a god of positivity and that he misunderstood his job. How the balance has been restored and so Dream won’t interfere with it anymore as it also is no longer his actual job.

Just lists upon lists of him going around and making sure everyone who knew about them knew the new truth.

It is so much.

Killer frowns as he sneaks a look at Nightmare. Nightmare just stares at the reports. His face blank.

Oh no.

Killer frowns and pulls him close “Nighty?”

Nightmare just stares at the reports “I told him this so many times… So long ago… why… why didn’t he believe me?” and he just looks at Killer sadly “Why did he never believe me?”

Killer frowns and holds their babybones close “I don’t know Nighty. I really don’t know.” He doesn’t have an answer. He doesn’t know what Dream was thinking or why he did what he did. All Killer knows is that their baby needs support and love and he can give that.

Dust joins their side and holds Nightmare’s hand silently. Just being there.

Cross looks at Horror “So how do we keep them away?”

Horror frowns as he clearly thinks before answering “We can’t. If they are still doing this after all this time? There is no dodging this. We will need to at least meet up to get them to stop.”

Cross looks deeply unhappy and Killer agrees.

Cross sighs and nods “How do we want to do that?”

Horror thinks before getting a small smile “I have an idea. We will also need to contact Error.”

--

Killer watches the empty road a few cities further along. He checks his phone for any new messages. It is still just the message he send the two Stars with this location and them sending back they are on their way.

Killer looks back at the street and quickly hides further behind the tree.

Dream is rushing up the road as he looks from side to side. Blue close behind him.

Killer mutters softly “They are here. You ready?”

Cross answers from wherever he is hidden “Ready.”

Killer would do the talking and Cross will be his backup in case he needs it. While they confront the Stars Dust and Horror will talk with Error about hiding this universe.

Easy does it. Blue and Dream walk by his hiding spot and Killer goes to the other side of the tree and just leans against it. His knife out. “what do you two want?”

Dream turns quickly and smiles “Killer! I am so happy to see you!” he takes a few steps but Killer holds his knife out aimed at him.

“Yeah. I can’t say I feel the same. What the fuck do you two want with us? I thought we made it clear that we didn’t want to see either of you the last time we met up?” Killer twirls his knife around as he makes sure to look unimpressed.

Dream frowns but takes a deep breath and steels himself “I want to see Nightmare. I want to see my brother. And I know if anyone knows where he is it is you four.”

Killer laughs and shakes his skull “Nah. You can go back to sniffing and shitting out good deeds. You are not going near boss.” Like hell Killer is going to allow Dream to come near Nightmare.

Dream glares at him and takes a step closer. Killer can hear Cross get his knife out somewhere near him. Dream clearly can’t see him as he glares at Killer “I know things have been rough. And I know I made mistakes. But I have been fixing those and actually making things right. I want to make things right with Nightmare. But for that I need to see him.”

Killer snorts “Just because you are selfish we should just lay over and let you get whatever you want? No.”

Dream glares at Killer “Really? What if Nightmare actually wants to see me? What if he actually also wants to talk about what happened? He wanted before. I am late and I know I was blind and acting stupid. But I want to listen. I want to hear what he has to say.” Dream takes a deep breath to calm down again as he keeps looking determined “I need to see him.”

Killer glares and hisses out his answer “No. You are not going near him.”

Dream glares right back “Like it or not but we are brothers. We are twins. We are both gods. We are always going to be connected in some way. Keeping us separate may just cause more trouble.”

Killer glares as he holds out his knife “Are you seriously trying to threaten me?”

Dream shakes his skull “No! I am not trying to do that! I just…” he holds hugs himself close “Don’t you sometimes wish you got a second chance? To make up for what you did wrong? For the pain you caused?”

Killer feels himself freeze. He has no doubt that Cross isn’t doing much better.

Dream just keeps talking “I know I messed up. I messed up badly. I just… I just want a chance to make things right. And I have done that for the multiverse… but I haven’t apologised yet to Nightmare. That is all I want Killer. I just want to see my brother and tell him I am sorry. That I am sorry for everything.” He looks desperate “please… You guys have to understand that feeling.”

Killer doesn’t like this. This still seems like such a bad idea… Cross holds his hand and squeezes it. Full trust in his decision.

Killer groans as he looks to the side “We can discuss stuff… See if he even wants to see you or prefers to just keep you as a thing of the past.”

Dream smiles and moves closer “Thank you! thank you so much-”

“I am not promising anything.” Killer glares “I will ask everyone. However. If he says no. If he says he prefers to keep you as a thing of the past. We will respect that. And you will have to respect that as well.”

Dream looks pained and shakes his skull “But… But I want…”

Killer glares “I don’t give a flying fuck about what you want or how you feel. You abandoned him. You betrayed him. You hurt him. You never listened to him. Just because you now finally got your head out of your own ass doesn’t mean he owns you anything. Least of all a second chance.” Killer keeps glaring at the god. “Am. I. Clear?”

Dream looks pained but he nods.

Killer nods himself “Good. Now leave. You are causing more problems for this universe than you are worth.” He turns and starts to walk away “When we made a decision I know how to contact you.”

A moment of silence until “At least tell him I am sorry… please… I need him to know that I am sorry and I want to do better…”

Killer stops but nods “Fine.” And he keeps walking.

This meeting could have gone better… Now to get home and let Nightmare decide what he wants.

*---------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[countessrivers]

Say more about the weird violent sexual attraction River inspires in the people he meets, please

With pleasure.

You see, it's all about, to start with, Spider, and his psychosexual obsession with River (RIP king, you are missed). It's about Spider ruining River's life again and again even when no one is forcing his hand. It's about the bitchiness and pettiness and Spider bringing up what River does with his dick during work hours. It's about those fucking faces he makes when River throws him up against a filing cabinet. He wanted River to fuck him so bad it made him look stupid (and also ruin River's life. and also in a roundabout way kind of got him killed. But you could also blame that on him being a dick. Again, RIP).

It's all about Spider concocting an elaborate plan to first, get River to angrily threaten and toss him up against things some more, all while playing mind games, second, get the shit beat out of River, and third, stage a public humiliation scene where he reveals everything while his colleagues ooooo and laugh and clap along AND WHERE he both talks about the size of his penis and tells River to quit the service and instead go do porn on OnlyFans.

Also why are the Chieftan bros so into this? They don't know River, they have no stake in this. But see, that's just the effect River Cartwright has on people.

It's all about Duffy telling River he'd like to watch him get eaten feet first by pigs. Like, that's weird. That's violent. That's fucked up. Stansted and the Code September barely had any impact on Duffy, so why is he so angry? Why does he care so much? Why is he spending his time fantasising about elaborate ways for River to die? (see above)

It's all about the repeated threats of violence and Duffy calling him 'sunshine' as he and the dogs toss him into a car to be taken to a locked cell under the Park where Duffy will proceed to beat the shit out of an unarmed River while bringing up River's daddy issues. Which, he apparently knows about. And is apparently thinking about a more than 0 amount. Which is of course is normal and not weird.

It's all about Hobbs wanting to watch River humiliate himself in front of a crowd of recruits. It's all about Hobbs telling River he wants a recording of River humiliating himself in front of a crowd of recruits because he's going to jerk off to it, with an implication that he's worn out his old material which I guess may or may not have also involved River. And it's all about Hobbs then joining in with Duffy to beat the shit out of an unarmed River in a locked cell under the Park.

It's also all about the three of them in said locked cell talking a lot about River's dick and balls and potential lack thereof, while they beat the shit out of him.

It's all about how in the books Patrice kidnaps River, wrecks his shit, and then tells people passing by not to worry, his boyfriend is just having a panic attack because he gets claustrophobic on the tube. It's all about Patrice sitting down next to River, putting his arm around him to keep up the charade and whispering to him how easy it is/would be to hurt him. It's all about Patrice, later, kissing River on the cheek, telling him they'll talk soon, and then going off to murder his grandfather and Slough House colleagues.

(and it's, you know, a little bit about River doing the tossing of Spider up against things and getting one over on Hobbs and egging Duffy on while refusing to fight back and bringing up personal things that conflict with Patrice's brainwashed child soldier conditioning and I guess just in general being a beautiful, bitchy, blond man constantly getting into trouble)

[moongumi]

⁀➷ ∵  ❝is it pure jealousy?⁰¹❞

⟶ ghost can't feel normal about his best mate all over a shadow

⟶ ghost x reader/oc x soap

⟶ cw. not much, just lusting, manipulation, graves (he's his own warning but i love him <3), lip-locking, ghost is so jealous, he wants reader so badly.

⟶ note. written in one go, will correct mistakes later but i've just been thinkin' about continuing this series in like short bits before making a big story as i'm focusing on adler x bell rn

who would’ve thought that soap would get close to a shadow. and who would’ve thought the person sitting alone with a stinking look on his face would be ghost.

no one can see the way he balls his hands into fists, the way he blows more air out of his nostrils and his eyes locked onto them. who’s them? soap and a shadow.

on the cargo plane back from their mission soap is all over her. giggling and pulling his best jokes out on the damn girl. she stands leaning against the walls of the plane, nodding her head along. ghost can’t see what shes thinking, he can’t even make out what she’s saying–her mask covers her whole goddamn face. he could only see the eyes, those doe eyes just begging for attention.

her mask, similarly to his in fact–but with fangs it seems. shadows do enjoy drawing unnecessary blood. soap would know this but apparently he can look past it for a pretty girl. ghost feels anger, but he doesn’t really know what the root cause was.

price wasn’t thrilled to be working with graves but as graves puts it ‘let's set our differences aside and stay professional’. soap seems to get the memo.

it’s when she leans towards soap, her hands brushing against his arm–the rolled up sleeves, her fingers dancing on his bare skin. she moves slowly up his arm towards the flag attached, she might’ve asked, ‘you english?’ and soap shakes his head, laughing about it.

“no love, can’t ya’ tell by the accent? i’m a scot,” he explains.

she rolls her eyes, smacking herself on the head like an idiot, “duh, i'm stupid, as you can tell I don’t get around much.”

“you're not stupid," soap flirts with her, "not to worry, at least i’m the first scotsman you’ve ever met.”

he might’ve been or he might’ve not. ghost can’t tell if she was lying to merely butter him up. she seemed like the type to manipulate and lure men into her grasp, just as she’s doing with soap. poor johnny, ghost thought to himself. ghost knew better than to trust a shadow.

the next few days after was as normal as could get. off duty the task force would hop around pubs in the evenings after spending their days cooling off.

today, they were at a bar. the whole squad but soap, soap just had to invite her. with the invitation to her, he never expressed it was limited to her only. many shadows came to a small english bar in the north, at least they owners got good business that night with graves buying rounds all night.

she took her coat off. as a girl not used to the english cold her cheeks are all flushed, not the mention the drinks she had made her cheeks rosy.

her shirt tight, that skirt too. she leans over the bar as soap attempts to buy more drinks for the table, just before that he was venting about a ruined date.

“i didn’t think she would invite graves and well fuckin’ hell, graves brought the entire battalion.” 

ghost looked at his friend and rolled his eyes. “should’ve been more specific.” or rather not invited her at all, at least ghost wouldn’t have to sit across from price and gaze with that look on his face. that look that was so easy to read.

the bar is dark, so damn dark he can’t even make it her face properly. she didn’t have her mask on. he knows johnny gets a good look at her, at that pretty fucking face.

“you don’t even know what she looks like,” gaz says.

ghost didn’t realise that it was directed to him, he did a double take until deciding to take offence. “the fuck you on about?”

“the girl, soap and you–a shadow too…good luck with that.” is all gaz says before he chugs his stella as if for ghost’s sake.

price sighs, drinking his guinness. “i’d just warn ya’, but you probably know what yer’ in for with that.” he nods his head towards soap and the girl. he then laughs along with gaz at the situation.

ghost finally looks back and his blood boils at the sight. his hands over her waist, landing perfectly over the curve of her ass. anyone could tell that girl worked out and was build like a fucking god. the shocking difference in width could make anyone’s mouth water.

he sees soaps hand grip her waist tightly drawing her closer. the girl chuckles, ghost can only see the moisture on her lips being lit up by the strobe lights. she says a few things to him, then backs up.

her eyes are bright and she draws closer to soap. the man across from her wastes no time in attaching his lips to hers, angling his head to deepen the kiss already.

ghost can feel the confusion in him, the anger, the desperation. the way her tongue slips between the corner of soaps’ lips to taste him. soap holds her tightly against him, if they weren’t wearing clothes it would look like they were already fucking eachother.

her hand grips his bicep as it flexes when he’d dive into her. her other hand against soaps’ cheek as if guiding him.

ghost felt like a red bull, angry and hot. but it seems he isn’t the only one angry.

“good fuckin’ god. price, who let your dog get his dirty mitts on one of my shadows, huh?” grave’s voice echos into ghost’s head, the drawn out southern accent and the mockery of it all. the mockery of the situation that ghost desperately wanted to be in, the fucking burning feeling that held onto him all night…jealousy.