#turned out much better than I thought it would

[randompiecesofwriting]

Coffee Snob

Summary: Robby meets his neighbor in the middle of the night on the rooftop of his apartment building, quickly establishing a relationship he wasn’t fully expecting and finding it to be more serious than originally thought when she shows up in his ER a few days later

Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Reader gets stitches but process isn’t described at all, Author has absolutely no medical knowledge, Robby’s a worrywart

Author’s Note: Thank you everyone who read my Jack fic Wrong Name! It got way more love an attention than I ever thought it would and that means the absolute world to me! This is my first Robby fic so of course let me know what you think and I hope you like it!

There was a man in your spot.

You’ve been up here nearly every night for the past few months and never had there been a man in your spot.

Usually you crave the silence this spot gave you, the peace of nighttime, the calm connectivity of the city below you. A man in your spot threatened to burst that bubble.

But seeing this man, in his fraying hoodie, with his legs dangling over the edge, drinking a beer, didn’t bring you any bitterness or disappointment. Rather you felt strangely calm.

Before you could fully process what you were doing you gave the handle to the roof access door a little jiggle and kicked the rocks beneath your feet softly, letting him know you were here before calling out “You know I’m not an expert but I’m pretty sure heights and alcohol don’t mix well”

He pivoted around slowly, your loud entrance having the desired effect of warning him of your arrival rather than startling him.

Soft brown eyes connected with yours in silence for a moment, you taking the opportunity to see just how downtrodden the man before you looked before his eyes flickered down to your hands, noting the beer that dangled from your fingers with a quiet huff “not an expert huh”

“Not an expert” you confirmed, taking a slow step forward “I practice this as an amateur”

He snorted under his breath at that. Turning back to the city before him, you taking that as a silent invitation to join him, planting yourself just far enough away to avoid making it awkward. “You know that’s my spot”

At that a dejected chuckle came out of him, an acknowledgement of an inside joke you weren’t apart of before shaking his head “not an expert but you have a spot”

“Never said I usually drink up here” you tossed the comment out as you twisted the top off your drink, giving his abandoned can next to him a toast before taking a swig.

The silence blanketed the two of you for a moment, somehow avoiding ever being oppressive or awkward, before he broke it “usually my spot’s at work”

“ahhh” you hummed, watching the lights of the city below you “so you’re the expert here then”

He laughed at that, a big sigh coming out of him as his shoulders finally fell slightly “never said I usually drink up there”

You let your eyes drift over his form for a second, taking the time to finally properly appreciate the man beside you “Honestly I kind of hope not, you strike me as someone with a job I wouldn’t want alcohol mixed with”

Another chuckle left the man, his chin tucking down into his chest as if to hide it “What gave that away, the scrubs?”

You smiled mischievously at him from behind the lip of your bottle, taking the time to take another swig, letting the silence between the two of you settle a bit before speaking “since you’re not offering the information that mean I get to guess?”

A deep breath left him as he looked you over for a second, clearly debating how much further he really wanted to venture into this conversation before answering with a shrug “give it your best shot”

You shifted slightly to better face him, picking your knee up and brining it onto the rooftop with you to fully look at the man before you, giving a dramatic hum before answering “Well the rooftop viewing is hinting at you being a bit of an adrenaline junkie, posture screams that you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, eyes tell me you’ve seen far too much tragedy in your time, dark scrubs to hide bodily fluid stains” you scrunched your nose up slightly at that,  pointedly ignoring the man’s startled gaze as you continued “and finally zip-up hoodie to help you contend with both inside and outside temperatures when necessary. I’m going to go with ER doc”

You tried to bite back your shit eating grin as the man before you froze on the spot, his entire body seeming to go through a system-reboot before a shocked huff escaped him, his neck forcing his head to bring his gaze back to the city as a chuckle finally escaped him “alright that was impressive”

“What can I say it’s a gift” you shrugged humbly, taking another swig before continuing “plus Ethel on the second floor will not stop talking about Michael, the handsome ER doctor who’s single and would really benefit from getting to know a nice girl like me”

At that a real laugh spilled from his lips, his eyes casting up to the sky as he sighed, giving his head a soft shake as he did so “I didn’t realize Ethel was so worried about me”

“You are alone in the middle of the night on the roof drinking”

He snapped his gaze over to you at your words, throwing a pointed look at the bottle in your hands before raising a single brow.

“Didn’t you hear I’m a nice girl”

Another sharp exhalation through his nose, another soft shake of his head, another comfortable silence wrapping around the two of you.

“Robby”

“hmm” you hummed back the silent question, raising a brow of your own in response.

“Most people call me Robby”

“Y/N” you offered your own name in response, extending a hand to him “nice to meet you Dr.Robby”

He smiled at that, the first honest one you had gotten all night, before he slipped his hand into yours “It’s nice to meet you Y/N”

-

You were there again the next night.

Robby wasn’t sure whether he had been hoping you would be or not.

Originally he had sought out the rooftop for the quiet it would offer, for the solace of it all when things got too overwhelming, another person being there threatened to ruin that.

But for some reason in his head you didn’t really count against that.

“So does the alcohol and heights thing still apply if someone else brought it”

You threw your gaze over your shoulder at his words with a warm smile and he couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t seem at all surprised to see him there, couldn’t help but wonder if you had been looking forward to this as much as he had.

“You’ll have to tell me, I thought we had decided you were the expert here”

“I believe that is what you decided” he volleyed back, handing you one of the cans as he sat down beside you, watching you crack it open and take a sip, scrunching your nose up slightly at the taste before looking down at the label.

“Okay if you’re going to start supplying the beer for these we’re going to have to work on your taste” he tried not to attach too much weight to the implied invitation in your words.

“what’s wrong with these?”

“They’re so one note, so flat, so quintessentially IPA” you spoke with heightened dramatics and he couldn’t help but note just how much he appreciated the lightness of the conversation, the inconsequence of it all, the opportunity to finally talk about something other than the hospital. “I’m fairly certain if you were to look up wheat beer in the dictionary the entry would just be a photo of this can”

“So your problem with it is that it tastes like beer?”

You glared at him at that, Robby unable to fully bite down the smirk that grew on his lips at the expression “My problem is that it tastes like beer stripped of anything that could make it interesting.”

“So it’s not bad it’s just boring”

“That’s arguably worse”

“mm no I’m fairly certain I’d rather drink a boring beer than a bad one”

“You willing spent your own money on this swill you no longer get to have an opinion” he couldn’t help but laugh at that, shake his head slightly as you went on “It’s like coffee. You know when you brew it poorly, or use a shitty machine and instead of getting the subtle fruity or chocolate notes of the beans you just get bitter brown water”

And a part of him was almost excited to be the butt of your next joke, to reveal what he had to say next, something you seemed to be able to read in his eyes. “No”

“You’re going to hate me for this”

“Michael please”

He was grinning at the use of his first name, at the sheer desperation in your tone “I’m fairly certain the only coffee I drink comes from a ten dollar machine that’s as old as I am”

You reacted as if you had been physically struck, hand going to your chest as you winced “I can’t believe you’ve never had good coffee”

“I’ve had good coffee before”

“Never experienced a proper pour over”

“I just said that’s the coffee I drink day to day”

“Never taken the time to appreciate the subtle flavors of a good brew”

“Some days it’s just about the caffeine”

“I’m making you coffee for your next shift” Your words yanked him out of the conversation suddenly, his brain taking a few seconds to fully comprehend your words.

“Wait what”

“What time do you leave? 7? 8?” You steamrolled right through his confusion, the favor already a done deal in your head.

“No you don’t have to-“

“I’ll put it in a to-go cup for you” You cut him right off, the sentence coming off so matter of fact-ly it had him chuckling.

“If I’m rushing to work I won’t have time to properly enjoy it”

You shrugged at that, throwing him a cheeky wink as you spoke “guess you’ll have to stop by early then”

A silence settled over the two of you at that, Robby taking the opportunity to properly look at you for the first time that night as you gazed over the city. “Coffee snob, can’t stand boring food, old burns on your forearms. I’m guessing chef”

You grinned at him from his periphery and Robby found himself reciprocating the expression easily. “Ethel’s such a gossip”

He snorted at that, taking a sip of his drink, suddenly a bit more excited for what the morning held for him than usual.

-

You had tried to convince the rest of the kitchen you would be fine, that surely if you just held pressure against it for another ten minutes that the bleeding would finally stop on its own.

None of them of course believed you, but in your opinion it was a valiant effort that should be noted.

You’d at least been able to fend them off from trying to go with you, the poor kid who had accidently cut you looked like he was ready to carry you there himself with the way he carried the guilt of your injury on his shoulders.

But you made it to the PTMH on your own, packed into a waiting room holding more people than it felt like it was fire rated for, and finally taken back to a room after a doctor had caught sight of the shade of red you had stained the once white prep towel you had been using for pressure.

As you were led back a part of you wondered if you should ask for him. This was afterall his hospital, you probably could’ve been seen sooner if you had pulled that card. But was it really your card to pull? You’ve sat on the roof a few times with the man, made him coffee once, did that somehow entitle you to specifically request him?

And even if it did was that really fair? The staff clearly had a system in place, prioritizing, as they should, the most severe cases first you absolutely weren’t going to mess with that.

So instead you kept your mouth shut and followed the doctor who had introduced herself as Mckay and the med student Javadi back to a bed in the ED.

You sat up on the bed as you had been instructed, Dr.Mckay moving to the computer and typing away immediately while Javadi moved to prep a suture kit, the two working together in surprisingly good tandem.

“Now Y/N since this is a teaching hospital do you mind if I let my med student take over here?” Dr.Mckay asked with a comforting smile, gesturing to the girl who didn’t look like she was old enough to be out of high school let alone a doctor.

“No I’ll happily be your pin cushion” Javadi froze at your words, giving you a wide eye look before looking over at Dr.Mckay for direction who only laughed good naturally from behind the terminal and gave her student a small nod to continue.

The rest of the appointment passed without a hiccup. Javadi stitching you up like an absolute pro and sending you on your way with instructions on how to care for it and to see a doctor in a week to get them removed.

You had almost made it through your entire visit without seeing him when on your way out you heard your name being called from behind you.

With one hand still on the door you spun around to look at who had called your name, the rapid sudden movement making you lightheaded and slightly woozy on the spot, your legs starting to wobble beneath you.

Two strong arms caught your own before the world could tilt too much, the new grounding force as well as the stillness more than enough to keep you upright and centered to the spot.

The soft, brown eyes now staring deeply into your own, however, clearly hadn’t picked up on your newfound steadiness. Snapping sharply back and forth between your own, calling your name urgently as his grip on you tightened.

“Robby I’m fine” you tried to brush him off but the man before you wasn’t having any of it.

“What’s wrong are you-“ he paused suddenly, his thumb catching on the bandage on your forearm drawing his gaze down “are you a patient?”

“I was a patient” you corrected him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before pulling your arms back from him “just a few stitches I’ve already been discharged”

“Few stitches and you’re feeling dizzy did they even have you on fluids?” He asked with a frown, barely listening to your “no” in response before he was pulling you into the nearest empty room by your hand.

“I don’t need fluids” you protested weakly as he ignored you completely, helping you up onto the bed and immediately going to the terminal in the room and logging in.

“Can’t believe they would send you on your way without any fluids who patched you up?” his complaint was spoken gruffly under his breath, just soft enough you weren’t entirely sure if it was a question for you or the computer.

“Robby please”

He finally paused at that, finally looked up at you and made proper eye contact, peering at you from above his glasses with a clearly displeased expression.

“Ask me the questions” His brows furrowed slightly in response, his head tilting ever so slightly to one side making you dramatically roll your eyes “fine I’ll do it. Are you experiencing any light-headedness, dizziness, or nausea?” You pretended to think on it for a second, humming softly before answering, ticking each response off on your fingers as you did so “no, no, and no”

Robby looked nothing short of completely unimpressed by your skit, merely raising a single eyebrow in response.

“I just turned around too fast” you tried to explain with no small amount of exasperation in your voice “world went off kilter for a second because of it but that’s it”

At that he sighed heavily, taking off his glasses and giving his eyes a tired rub before he straightened his posture, crossing his arms over his chest before gesturing down to your arm “what happened”

You huffed a little at how the words were less a question than a command “accident at work, got sliced by a knife. Bleeding wouldn’t stop so I came here”

He clearly wasn’t completely placated by your answer but let it slide anyway, taking a seat on a rolling stool and coming up next to you “can I see?”

Wordlessly you placed your arm in his hands, watching his fingers delicately undo the dressing Javadi had just wrapped for you minutes before. He took a deep breath once the stitches were unearthed, taking a moment to properly look at each of them as his thumb stroked softly back and forth over the skin around it.

“Stitches look good”

“Javadi did a good job”

His sharp gaze again cut up to you with a small frown on his face, his thumbs back and forth movement halting “you had a med student working on you”

“You just said she did good” you shot back with a tired laugh, a sound that finally had the corners of his lips tilting up.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Your own small smile dropped instantly at his question, at the rawness of it, the vulnerability.

“It was no big deal. I didn’t want to bother you with it”

“Bother me with it” he repeated almost bitterly under his breath with a shake of his head, pivoting slightly to reach for a new set of dressings, getting ready to start wrapping up your arm again before speaking louder this time “how long were you waiting out there”

You shrugged at that, choosing to focus your gaze down on your arm as he started to wrap it rather than the man himself “Not long, there were people who needed-“

“And yet you’re lightheaded from blood-loss”

He took in a sharp breath right after the words slipped out of him, Robby recognizing the sharpness in his tone before you could point it out to him and giving himself a deep breath to try and reset before continuing “Just- next time bother me okay. I don’t care how small it is”

“Okay” you agreed blindly, Robby seeming to notice your lack of attention and giving your wrist a soft squeeze, physically pulling your gaze up to meet his.

“I mean it. No matter what. You find yourself in the Pitt I want you to ask for me okay. Or Jack Abbot if I’m not here he’ll take care of you”

And you couldn’t help but smile softly at his concern, nodding along with him before repeating yourself with more conviction “okay”

He mirrored your smile with one of his own, giving you a nod before softly placing your arm back in your lap and backing up a bit, you having not noticed how close he had gotten over the course of looking you over. “Now you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine” you assured him “promise I’ll find the juice with the highest sugar content the minute I get back to work”

He smile fell instantly at your words, head going back into his hands as he groaned dramatically “of course you’re going back to work”

And you couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics “dinner rush, they need me. I’ll cut back though, won’t do anything with this arm scouts honor”

“were you even a scout?” His tone was nothing short of unamused making your snort.

“I’ll send someone by with dinner for the whole staff” you tried to distract him with a grin, Robby unable to bite down his own in response.

“At least tell me someone is coming by to pick you up”

“nah I walked here”

Another dramatic groan, one you weren’t entirely sure wasn’t fully for your benefit “You’re killing me here honey”

He started to stand at that, as if he hadn’t thrown your entire world off kilter again with a simple pet name, and started to take off his gloves “Text me when you make it back to the restaurant okay” he paused after that, seemed almost unsure of his next words before he forced them out “and come by mine tonight when you’re done I’ll change your dressings for you”

“I can change my own-“

“Let me” he interrupted with a soft a plea.

You couldn’t help but pause at that, to look the man before you over once, to note the sincerity in his expression before answering “I may be pretty late” you tried to warn him, playing it off like you were trying to get him to back down, fully knowing you were hoping he wouldn’t.

“doesn’t matter” his answer came quick and without any real thought behind it, as if the conclusion were obvious “I know where to get a good coffee if I need it”

“make a guy a cup of coffee once and all of a sudden he thinks he’s entitled to more” you teased with a smirk

He chuckled softly at that, hiding his gaze down in his hands briefly before looking back up at you “You’ll come right?”

“Yeah Mike I’ll be there”

A lopsided smile grew on his face at the nickname “good” he pushed the door open behind him and stood slightly off to the side to allow you to pass, letting his hand fall to the small of your back as you did so “now get out of here before I hook you up to an IV anyways”

You laughed off the threat. Ignoring the tingle left behind from his touch as he ushered you forward, not making it very far before a blonde woman in scrubs came rushing in, nose buried in a tablet.

“Robby there you are we have a-“ she cut herself off as she raised her eyes to the scene before her, her gaze zeroing in quickly on the hand Robby still had on your spine, on the closeness between you two, a grin that could only be described as downright wolfish growing on her face as she cut her eyes to meet Robby’s “this blue tumbler?”

You raised a brow at the question, cutting your eyes up to meet Robby’s only to see his cheeks starting to go pink as he ducked his head ever so slightly with a soft sigh “Y/N this is Dana, the only person able to keep this entire ED running in something resembling order, also the person who stole the coffee you gave me the other day”

Immediately you were grinning at the woman, relishing the way she was able to make Robby sweat from beneath her gaze “You tried it? What did you think?”

She took a second longer to pull her gaze from Robby, relishing the way he squirmed before her before she smiled warmly at you “best damn cup of coffee I’ve ever had”

“Thank you!” You exclaimed in relief, giving Robby a pointed elbow in the side as you said it “this man doesn’t properly appreciate a good cup of coffee I swear. You ever been to Brewsters on Canton?”

She shook her head at your question, popping one hip to stand more comfortably as if she were settling into the conversation “that where you get it from?”

“Where I got he beans from” You nodded eagerly “you go on Tuesdays ask for Joey he’ll hook you up with the freshly roasted shit”

“Okay Dana did you need something” Robby cut in before she could respond in pure exasperation, sending the woman a silent glare that you couldn’t help but giggle at.

She seemed to bite back her own laugh as well, her smirk sent at Robby filled with mirth as she nodded “asthmatic kid’s family in asking to see you. Not an emergency I think they just got questions”

“Thank you Dana I’ll be right there” he sent her what was obviously a dismissal with a pointed glare, Dana taking the whole thing in stride and fading back from the two of you, never going too far and looking much too interested in her tablet to really be doing anything productive.

“I like her” You chuckled up at him, the corners of his own mouth tipping up despite his obvious best attempt to remain stern.

“Yeah that’s what I was afraid of”

You grinned back at him at that, reaching out almost instinctually to give his arm a soft squeeze as you started to drift towards the exit “alright doc I’ll let you get back to it”

“I mean it you feel even slightly dizzy I want you back here for an IV” he called after you, staying rooted on the spot as you parted.

“Aye yai cap” you mock saluted with a smirk “tell the woman eavesdropping in the corner I’ll send you in with a cup of coffee for her tomorrow”

“Thank you sweetheart” Dana called back with a grin, not even bothering to pretend she wasn’t doing exactly that.

You grinned back at her and with a final nod left the ED, the door barely swinging back shut behind you before Dana was beside Robby once again, the two of them watching the door close fully with vastly different expressions.

Dana chuckled under her breath, pressing the tablet in her hands to Robby’s chest as she clapped his shoulder and gave it a shake “you are so screwed Robinavitch”

Almost numbly Robby grabbed the tablet from her and peered down at it, barely noting the words that came out under his breath as he said them “yeah I know”

Dana cackled loudly at that, leaving her attending in his spot as she started to make her way back to the nursing station “oh I cannot wait to tell Abbot”

That seemed to knock Robby out of his stupor, his head whipping around to watch the charge nurse disappear around the corner. “Wait Dana”

[no-144444]

hiii can u pls make a kimi fic that has angst and fluff??? u can make the story☺️☺️☺️🩷🩷 tyyy

sacrifices- k.antonelli

꩜summary: everyone has to make sacrifices...

꩜pairing: andrea kimi antonelli x fem! reader

“We need your full focus, Kimi,” Toto sighed. “You have a chance this year. You need to capitalise.” 

The way he said it sent off alarm bells in his head, and he gulped. There was something about the way Toto was looking at him, that silent sympathy but tough love he was used to. Last minute light night meetings were reserved for real problems, and it wasn’t like Kimi was underperforming. He had won a race already. He was qualifying well. He was on the podium constantly. There was a certain silence in the motorhome that always made him uneasy, and it sure as hell wasn’t helping the way this conversation made him feel. 

“I plan on,” he shrugged. “And the team is my full focus.” 

Toto sighed. “You don’t understand what I’m asking, do you?” he looked down, exasperated, as Kimi shook his head. “Y/n. You won't… I’ve talked to Y/n.” 

That was all kinds of fucked. Kimi’s jaw dropped, his brain bringing him to his feet before he could think about what he was doing, who he was threatening, or what this all meant. The air in the room vanished, replaced only by a thick tension, one Kimi would only add to. His whole body went cold. “You do not get to meddle in my life!” he shouted, crossing the table and getting right up into Toto’s face, a pointed finger at his chest, hitting it, hard. “I have a girlfriend who is nothing but supportive of me and what I do, what I give to this team, even though it takes away from her! And I know you like to pretend I’m your son because it makes you feel better about the fact that your actual sons barely speak to you, but you’re not my dad,” his chest was heaving, head burning with anger, and he scoffed. “Fuck you.” 

Toto took a deep breath, shocked at his outburst. Stupidly, he thought this was going to be easy. He thought Kimi would do what he asked blindly. He was wrong. “We all have to make sacrifices-” 

“I will not sacrifice her,” he demanded, his voice cutting through the Austrian’s. “Not more than I already have to.” 

And he turned and left. He couldn’t do this right now, not when he just got you back from an argument about something stupid he did. He was working hard everyday to make you feel how much he cares about you, how much he loves you, despite the thousands of miles of distance. He dialled your number, terrified that Toto had gotten to you before him, and fucked up any chance he had of reconciliation. 

“Kimi?” You sighed. “What?”

“Please don’t tell me-”

“Toto talked to me,” you sighed. “Is that what you want?”

“NO!” he practically screamed down the phone. “God no!”

You let out another teary sigh. “Kimi, if it’s what you want I’ll understand,” you sniffled. “You’re busy now, you’re a famous F1 driver, you don’t have to just keep me around because you feel bad-”

“Baby please,” he begged. “Just please don’t. I love you, I have always loved you. I’m not giving you up just because Toto asked me to,” he shook his head, his feet working as fast as they could to get to his room before he had a breakdown. “Just- please don’t leave me.” 

You were quiet. “We can talk about this when you get home, alright?”

The silence was deafening when you hung up the phone and his mind raced as he sat in his driver’s room, his life falling apart. 

“Ready for quali?” a knock at the door signalled his time for leaving all of this shit in his driver’s room and making sure it didn’t touch his helmet. He wasn’t sure if he could. 

The dim light of the setting sun made the perfect backdrop for your quiet evening alone. You usually liked evenings like this, just you and your dinner, finishing up some college work, making yourself dinner, and calling Kimi. Little candles all over your apartment, a cosy blanket and couch, maybe the cat from next door would come in through the balcony and lie down beside you where Kimi usually sat. 

Except, that evening there was no calling Kimi. And the apartment felt much too cold. You couldn’t unhear Toto’s points about how Kimi performed better when you were there, because he had less to work about and juggle, but you couldn’t always be there. You had your own life and friends, your own family to take care of, your school and your work. You couldn’t drop it all just to follow Kimi around the globe. You adored him, but come on, that’s a huge ask from someone. And then Toto suggested breaking up and your heart just… broke. 

But if that’s what it has to be, then so be it. 

The door opened. “Y/n?” His voice was clearly tired but determined. You turned your eyes to the door, a puff of smoke leaving your mouth as your eyes found his. He hurried over to you and took the cigarette out of your hand before stomping on it, mumbling something about ‘Peccato per te. Giving me heart attacks’.

It was a bad habit you'd picked up from some of your college friends, but you'd gotten it down to only doing it when you were really stressed. You thought this situation more than applied to that.

You sat on the couch as he closed the sliding door of your apartment balcony and sighed. “Congrats on the weekend. Pole and podium are huge.” 

He sat down beside you, sighing. “It was… alright, I guess. Didn’t feel as good with you not there,” he turned his head with a small smile and saw the way you dropped at his words. He cleared his throat, not knowing what to say in the prolonged silence. 

“I think Toto’s right,” you practically whispered. “You don’t need me coming in and giving you more stress.”

He shook his head, taking your hands. “No, si sbaglia. You’re everything to me-”

“I shouldn’t be. Racing should, Kimi,” you sighed, dropping his hand. “Let’s face the facts, you’re going places in that sport, you’re going to be a household name. You don’t need me fucking up your first season just becasse-”

“You’re not fucking anything up,” he shook his head, calmer than you’d even seen him during a fight. “And I don’t care what Toto says, I love you, and I’m not giving that up. Fine della storia,” he shook his head and took your hands again, bringing them to his mouth to kiss them. “You’re brilliantly smart,” one kiss. “And stubborn,” another. “And everything I want. I’m not giving you up because Toto doesn’t understand me.”

You were quiet for a long moment. He was so sure. So soft with you. There was something in his voice that almost made you believe him. So you nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?” he questioned, making sure. 

You turned your head and nodded. “Okay.” 

He leaned in and kissed you, and it felt right. But that growing pit in your stomach made you feel sick, and you didn’t know how long you could act like everything was fine. 

Toto had begged you to break up with him. 

You were considering it, for his own good.

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mercedes & williams masterlist

[sakuravalenp]

Don't eat anything else - Part 3 - DP X DC

Previous part

Masterpost

Sam had somehow fallen asleep after hours of rolling in her bed, so of course, when her phone started ringing, she was just about ready to send the thing flying across the room. She covered her ears with her pillow, hoping the thing would shut up soon enough, and cursed her past self for leaving the phone in her desk instead of plugging it to the socket that was just behind her bed. She could have already shut the thing off then, but no, she’ll have to get out of bed to do it. She was going to maul whoever decided it was a good idea to call in the middle of the night.

With a resigned huff, she got out of bed and went to the desk, stumbling over the chair because of course she hadn’t pushed it back into the space the desk left for it, and snatched the phone roughly, pulling the charger and making her pencil case fall off the desk. The clattering sounds let her know she had also left that open. She groans, and squints at her phone screen, her eyes complaining at the sudden light, she takes a look at the insistent caller: Tucker. She answers while letting herself fall into the chair.

“Tucker, it’s like two am. You better be dying, or I swear to the ancients I’m throwing your beloved PDA into a natural portal to never be seen again!”

“Check the Phantom chat.” Sam blinked. She was expecting some sort of dramatic response. Then her mind caught up to what her friend had just asked.

“Did Danny text anything!?” The call was already being placed on speaker as she took her phone off her ear and started looking for their chat server.

“You’ll have to check yourself, it’s a full text wall, I’ve just read like- the first paragraph. Just- check it out and call me back when you’ve read it all.”

Sam frowned at the beep of the call being ended. She had never hated so much that their server took so long to load. She understood why; a hidden server that went through the infinite realms? Tucker was a genius for creating it. Still, in times like this the waiting was excruciating.

Danny didn’t tell them anything about his life with Vlad. She would say it screamed red flags, but it was Vlad. The moment the man had gotten custody of Danny all the fire alarms were going off in Sam’s head, and they hadn’t stopped since.

They tried not to push much at the start. The Fentons and Jazz’s death was too fresh, so they just checked in, asking how things were going, trying not to prod. But weeks turned to months, and they hadn’t been able to see Danny, and he was not telling them anything.

They had been keeping tabs of what they could get. Danny checked in at least once a day, until he didn’t. There would be days without response, and then Danny would check in again with some vague excuse. When that became common enough, Danny stopped making up excuses and just directly checking in without explaining the absence.

His texts were useless to understand his situation, other than he was well enough to text them, so their next focus was his public appearance. There weren’t a lot of those, but they would be happy with any scraps they could get. 

Vlad had taken Danny to more than a couple of galas and some political events, proudly flaunting his heir, and yet, there were barely any photos of Danny at said events. It was up in the air whether it was due to Vlad avoiding the pictures getting out or due to how difficult it was to get a clear photo of Danny.

Nevertheless, the few pictures they did get weren’t great. He looked emaciated, lost so much weight, lost any brightness in his eyes. Still, Sam had almost cried from relief the first time they got a picture. The mind can be cruel when there's nothing to hold it back, and Sam had about a thousand terrible thoughts of what Vlad could be doing to Danny. At least he was in one piece. 

Her phone vibrated, letting her know the server had finally loaded. There was a bubble beside the Phantom group chat letting her know there were new texts. She pressed on the group chat and was indeed greeted by a wall of text. She scrolled back to find the beginning.

Hey guys, you’ll probably won’t see this until tomorrow but I needed to write this right away before I started doubting. Not that that’s really a choice at this point, not when the Waynes already left with those notes.

The Waynes? Oh, yeah, Danny had mentioned Vlad had invited them to dinner once. First visitors they would be getting. Sam had idly wondered if she would have gotten a chance to see Danny if her parents were more influential. She had never wished for her parents to be richer before. 

So anyway, the Waynes visiting kind of changed things here a bit. I may not have been really honest about how things were going here with Vlad. Though, you probably already knew that, and I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I can tell you guys. I just don’t think I can get myself to tell you, and I’m so sorry, because you’re always there and deserve the truth, but I can’t. So, let’s just leave as things hadn’t been great, and Vlad was more of a monster than we ever thought he could be. 

Sam didn’t like that, it was terribly vague. What had Vlad done to Danny that he didn’t feel he could tell them? Sure they had been dealing with Danny’s silence, but now he was straight up telling them he couldn’t get himself to talk about it. The fact that he couldn’t even explain what Vlad had done meant it was probably worse than what she imagined.

They’d faced their fair share of horrors over the years while combating the rogues, and there had never been a problem verbalizing it. Something horrible had happened. Sam was going to kill Vlad. She didn’t care what the full story was, if it was bad enough that Danny actively refused to tell them, it was bad enough to revoke Vlad’s right to existence. 

The thing is, I can’t keep this up. The Wayne’s came in, and Vlad's plans for dinner made me realize I couldn’t let this keep going. I managed to sneak a note to Timothy Drake-Wayne. Everyone knows the Waynes have connections to the Justice league.

Sam frowned. The Justice League had been shining for their absence from everything involving Amity. That absence still burned like acid. They’d begged for help. Pleaded. Amity had become a warzone more than once, and no one had come. Would they really show up just because the Waynes got involved?

I know they hadn’t been answering our calls, but now it affected the Waynes. Again, I can’t explain how it affected them, but I’m pretty sure the Waynes will make sure the Justice League gets involved. I had to tell them that Vlad isn’t human. It would only end in an apocalypse if they came looking for Vlad without being prepared. They’ll look for you guys. I told them you had the means to combat him. 

Oh shit. Was she really meeting with the Justice League? In friendly terms? After all the ignored calls, Sam had swore it would be on sight if she ever met the assholes. And if they really showed up just because the Waynes were the ones to call, Sam wasn’t sure if she could keep it civil.

I didn’t reveal myself to the Waynes, I don’t know what the Justice League stand on ghosts is, all this is already a big risk, the GIW are bad enough on their own, there’s no way we would survive the Justice League hunting us, but Vlad needs to be stopped. I need you guys to give them what they need to not be possessed, and the ectoguns that I modified, maybe an ectoshield. Nothing more, they have a good history with non-humans, but I don’t know if we can trust them to not start a hunting campaign after Vlad. Try making it clear that this is a Vlad problem, not a ghost problem. I’m sorry I’m leaving everything to you guys, I can’t do anything from this side.

Her breath trembled. If the Waynes were really able to convince the Justice league to finally intervene, they might have days. She and Tucker needed to prep everything.

Ghost attacks had become rare since the portal was destroyed, but sometimes ghosts still came through naturally forming ones. There couldn’t be a ghost attack while the Justice League was there. Not when they needed to convince them that Vlad was the exception, not the rule.

They needed to get the gear and figure out how to lie to the Justice League convincingly enough that they wouldn’t turn every ghost into collateral damage.

Because Vlad might be the monster. But the League could still be the executioners.

Still, despite all the anxiety running through her veins, Sam felt hopeful. Danny had reached for help, after months of silence he had finally reached for help, and for once there seemed to be a chance they'd see Danny again. 

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

They couldn’t continue reading the paper right away. There was no way to do it. Cass was more sensitive to people's deaths than anyone else in her family, and Bruce had focused on supporting her so he wouldn’t have to think about what he had just eaten. He had helped Cass to the bathroom like he hadn’t vomited as well. Tim had mumbled something about needing a shower, a really long shower, and left. Jason had forgotten the pretender had been bathed in that cursed soup.

He did think about taking the paper and finishing reading it himself, but green edged his vision, rage bursting under the skin, and he needed an outlet, which he didn’t have here. The punch he had thrown onto the wall had already left a mark, and this was a house they rented as Waynes, he couldn’t just trash it all.

He had worked through some breathing exercises Dick had introduced to him. He’ll never tell Dick, but they did work somewhat. It wasn’t really a surprise, Jason knew Dick had anger issues. The bastard seemed like the perfect young adult holding it together these days, but Jason was there for his teenage rebellion, and that was supposedly an improvement from how he had been as Robin. So of course the breathing exercises helped, but it wasn’t enough.

He felt like giving the wall another punch from the frustration, but he had been trying to “redirect his anger” in less violent ways lately, and this was the kind of situation where it would be better to clear his head instead of exploding. He could save the explosion for when they had that reprobate on their hands. 

His phone was pinging and Jason knew it was probably the rest of the family asking for an update. The sudden silence probably got them worried the supposed poison had been something serious, and as the only one in commission at the moment, he should be the one reporting, but he was pretty sure he would crack his phone if he used it right then. His helmet took his attention where it resided on the desk, and he made a decision.

You’re not supposed to ride while you're angry, that’s how accidents happen, but that didn’t apply to people like him. Red Hood spent most of the night in his motorcycle while absolutely furious; they knew how to ride without becoming a public safety issue. 

He grabbed his helmet and screamed before putting it on. “You better don’t read the damn note before I’m back!” And then he was on the road once again. 

He rode around the small city, making the same circle over and over again at maximum speed. Harsh changes in direction that made the adrenaline pump in his veins. It was a good outlet. At some point the green receded enough for him to think clearer. He lowered the speed a bit, and connected his helmet to the comms. The questioning screams from everyone on comms came instantly.

“Shut the fuck up. I can’t understand a single thing you are saying.” As expected, that didn’t have any effect, but a minute later the line went dead silent. Babs must have muted everyone's lines. 

“Hood, what’s the situation? Did the antidote work without problem?” Babs asked.

Jason almost laughed. Antidote. They wished it had just been some stupid poison. “It wasn’t poison, or drugs, Batman and Orphan are… physically fine.”

There was a moment of silence, then Jason could hear the crackle of a line joining the comms again. “What does that mean Todd?” Damian finally asked.

Jason could feel the rage try to creep back at the thought of what really was in the food, he pushed it back. He didn’t want to really talk about what really was in the food. Another crackle. “Little wing? What was in the food?” 

Jason sighed. Why should he be the only one in commission to report back? No, he was glad to not have been anywhere close to that hideous concoction that didn’t have a right to be called food. He turned the speed back up.

“Apparently, Vlad Masters is a cannibal. One in the habit of sharing his taste with others.” The silence in the other line was about what he expected, so was the new explosion of voices that came afterward. 

Yeah, no. Report given. They could deal with the news themselves. Jason disconnected from comms and started riding back to the house. Checking the time on the edge of his helmet screen, he saw he had been riding for quite some time. How has two hours already passed? 

He left the motorcycle in the garage. There was no one there, so Jason wandered inside. He found Tim was sitting on the sofa with his laptop in the living room, the note folded beside him. Bruce sat on a chair beside him still looking pained. Jason talked from the door.

“Did you actually wait for me?”

Tim shrugged and without taking his eye off. “Figured it would be better to read once we were all here.”

“Where’s Cass?” He asked, walking to the opposite side of the couch.

“She asked to be filled in later.” Bruce answered. “It’s better we read the rest of the note already. I can’t imagine what else Danny would like us to know.”

Tim sighed, like someone had asked him to be the one to read the letter instead of him being the one to take it upon himself. He took the note, unfolding it again, and Jason could see he was making an effort to ignore the first line.

“I don’t know who the victims are, or where Vlad gets them, but they’re recently deceased. So somewhere there must be people disappearing constantly. It may not be the same place all the time, or it may not even be the same city. Vlad isn’t human.”

“Fucking great. Just what we were missing. What is it this time? A vampire? He definitely has the aesthetic going for him.” The pretender glared at him for the interruption, but Jason thinks the situation fully justifies his reaction.

Bruce sighed. “Language. Please, go on, Tim.”

“He’s a kind of ghost.” Tim raised an eyebrow but continued reading. “I know it may be hard to believe for outsiders, but ghosts are pretty much a common occurrence in Amity Park.”

“I thought that was just a tourist trap.” Jason commented, which gained him another glare from Tim. Jason didn’t bother to acknowledge it, though, inside, he was quite enjoying getting the little shit annoyed.

Tim huffed, and lowered the note a bit before commenting. “There are quite a few claims of ghost sightings, but we couldn’t find any proof of them when we took a look at Amity while searching for a house to rent.” He turned to the computer and started typing something.

“Even then, those reports were not of great importance, mentions of seeing a figure for a couple a seconds in the corner of a room, of a shadow following them around the city, or a pale little kid running around in the cemetery.” Bruce added. “The whole city works around the theme.The biggest school is called Casper High, and most attractions are named after ghost-related puns. We concluded it was, in fact, a tourist trap.”

“So what, the kid is imagining his guardian isn’t human? Making things up to cope with the fact that he is a cannibal? That-”

“Um. Bruce, you might want to see this.” Tim interrupted him.

His eyes were wide, scanning quickly through a webpage. Jason moved close to see the screen, and so did Bruce, standing up from his chair to lean over the back of the sofa. Tim started reading titles while he passed the mouse over them. 

“Octo-Ghost Assists Kindergarten Party and Almost Becomes The Birthday Girl's Pet. First Ghost Attack of the Week in Casper High, Red huntress Captures It Before It Can Disrupt Class. Ghost Known as Lunch Lady Visits Local Restaurant and Asks for a Cooking Battle With the Owner: See the Unexpected Results. Don’t You Miss When Ghosts Would Interrupt Class at Least Once a Day? A ranting blog by Phan_number1. None of this existed when we were checking Amity!”

“How is that even possible? The Batcomputer should have pinged something if there was anything blocking the information,” Bruce says in what sounded like a monotone voice, but any of his kids could tell he’s alarmed by the fact that so much information was successfully hidden from the Batcomputer. “Try sending a link to Babs.”

Tim goes ahead to do that with the ranting blog, but honestly, Jason couldn’t care less if the oh-so-great Batcomputer missed this.

“So the kid isn’t making things up, great. Can you both have your freak-out about the information blockage after we finish reading the note?” If Tim were a super, Jason would have a hole on his front, he’s sure of it.

Babs: Why are you sending me a recipe for making ghost-themed pie?

Tim looks at the message in disbelief, and clicks on the link he had sent. The ranting blog opens, no pie recipe to be seen. Tim takes a screenshot and tries sending it, but a warning message appears, saying the file is corrupted. He tries to send an image of his gallery, it goes without any problems.

“This is weird. It’s not like any kind of blockage we had seen before. It even redirects links to a page that matches the city's theme.”

“Try sending the image through the Bat server.” Bruce says with a voice that it was more serious than Jason expected, which makes him glance back at the man. 

Bruce is glaring at the computer with a dark expression. Realization hits Tim, and he quickly tries to send the image through the Bat server. It goes through, and even Jason feels relieved at the received checkmark. 

“Okay… okay. So they’re monitoring private conversations, but the Bat server is still safe.” Tim murmurs. Then goes ahead and tries sending the link once more, with a message saying it should open the website shown in the image. 

Oracle: All that link opens is the pie recipe Red Robin. If this is some kind of joke, you know the Bat server is not for that.

Tim rolls his eyes at the response and starts writing down a response, explaining the situation to Babs.

“The link must be blocked by IP Address. Tell her to try using a residential proxy.”

“Already on it.”

Jason hates when the old man understands more about technology than he does. Damn his time in the grave. He had been working on getting up to date, and he can do some basic hacking and whatnot. Enough that he doesn’t need external help for every little thing. But he’s still so far behind. 

Oracle: I’m in. You’re also seeing all these things about ghosts?

Red Robin: Yes. 

Red Robin: Somehow they have the city under a blockage that the Batcomputer wasn’t able to detect.

“Okay. Babs can take care of investigating that. We have a note to finish reading, remember?” Jason says, reaching for the paper Tim had left beside the computer, which Tim promptly snatches back. “Hey!”

“You won’t read it outloud for everyone.”

“According to whom!?”

“Kids…” Bruce sighed, “Continue reading, please, Tim.”

The little shit looked smug for a second before going back to the note.

“Please understand that in general ghosts aren’t bad, it’s just Vlad. But ghosts are powerful, and Vlad is really powerful. This can’t be resolved through normal means. I know the Waynes have contact with the Justice League, so I ask you to please get in contact with them, and don’t get anymore involved. I doubt the Justice league is equipped for the type of ghosts we have in Amity park. My friends Samantha Mason and Tucker Foley know where to find specialized weaponry and protective devices. Please, convince the Justice League to go for them first, it would be a disaster if one of the Justice League was overshadowed by Vlad.” That’s where the letter ended.

“Overshadow?” Bruce echoed.

Tim wasted no time putting the word into Google, which, now that Jason noticed, was decorated with little ghosts. Did Amity have its own Google doodle? The definition of the word popped like any other word would, and Jason wondered if that was something else that was blocked outside the city.

“It seems to be how Amity Parkers refer to possession.” Tim said after skimming the definition.

“What do we know about Samantha Mason and Tucker Foley?” Bruce asked, already in work mode.

“Not much, outside of being known friends of Danny. The Masons are a well positioned family in Amity; they’re new money. Izzy Manson, Samantha's great grandfather, invented a machine that twirled cellophane around deli toothpicks, the patent and inheritance placed the family where it is today. Pamela Manson owns a jewelry brand that’s grown in popularity in the Midwestern elite, while Jeremy Manson is a real estate developer. They often attend galas in Wisconsin, and sometimes in other big cities. Samantha Mason is a known teen activist, and has had her fair share of incidents at galas.” Tim said, as he opened the report he had made before coming to Amity.

“Incidents?” Jason asked.

“She has a sharp tongue and doesn’t seem interested in keeping appearances. It’s well known she isn’t fond of the styles her mother gives her for the galas. In any photo she posted on her personal accounts in the last two years, she has a gothic aesthetic.”

“Ah.”

“There’s less about Tucker Foley. His mother, Angela Foley, works as a chef at a local restaurant called “A Ghost's Secret Recipe.” His father, Maurice Foley, is an IT technician for the city government. Tucker seems to take after his father in his interest in technology, and has a history of winning local programming contests.”

“There’s nothing that really screams “I know how to fight ghosts and have ghost weaponry” is there?” Jason comments.

“Well, this is the information we have while searching with the city's information being blocked. Search for Daniel Fenton on the web,” Bruce says, and when Tim enters the name, a lot of news articles come to light. “We should have suspected something when there weren’t a lot of news articles talking about an explosion taking the life of a whole family.” Tim nods to that.

Jason frowns at the screen. “Are you seeing these titles? Local ghost hunters die from mysterious explosions? Something tells me that the access to weaponry has more to do with Danny’s parents than anything about Samantha and Tucker.” 

“What did we have about the Fentons from the investigation in Gotham?”

“They were supposedly part of the tourist industry, “entertaining tourists with street shows about ghost hunting.” We were literally blocked from one of the most important details of Danny’s life.” Tim groaned. 

Bruce sighed. “Let’s try getting some sleep. We’ll try meeting Samantha and Tucker tomorrow in the late afternoon.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Late afternoon?”

“They’re teenagers. I would prefer to interrupt their class time or disturb them too late. They might not even know we plan to meet with them.”

Tim nodded, already starting with the new background check. “I doubt Masters lets Danny have his own phone.”

Jason unceremoniously closed Tims laptop, putting it aside and carrying the kid in a firefighter carry.

“Trying to rest applies to you too.”

Tim protested as he trashed, trying to get him to let go, and if the pretender had actually been serious about it, Jason may have not been able to keep a hold of him.

“I’ll tell Babs to leave the investigation for tomorrow as well. You’ll have time before we go meet Danny’s friends, so let’s rest for some time first, okay?” Bruce said with that voice he always used when he was treating them like little kids. And if Jason found it soothing, that was between his mind and himself.

Tim groans, but relaxes, accepting defeat, and the kid is asleep before Jason even makes it out the living room. Jason wonders, not for the first time, if Tims ability to basically sleep anywhere, anyway, anytime, would go away if the kid actually followed the sleeping schedule Bruce and Alfred tried imposing, instead of taking random naps around the clock. 

He’s sure the little shit will be back in front of the computer in 30 minutes. Whatever. He already did his mandatory older sibling duty by getting him to stop for a nap. 

[xxsyluslittlecrowxx]

𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘, 𝐒𝐎 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄 this...

You come home late. The lights in the apartment are dim, golden. The door clicks shut behind you, and the tension you’ve been carrying all day already starts to loosen.

From the living room, you hear the soft crackle of vinyl. A slow jazz record hums through the air like candlelight, warm and intimate. You follow it—and him.

Sylus stands by the turntable, wine glass in hand, half-silhouetted in the amber light.

He’s wearing that robe. The one that says he wasn’t expecting you… but everything else about him says he was..

His glasses are perched low on the bridge of his nose, catching the faintest glint of light. His hair is mussed like he’s been running his hand through it for hours. And he’s humming—softly—along with the music, like the sound has settled into his bones.

You stop in the doorway, quiet.

Watching him in this moment feels like intruding on something sacred. Like you’ve stumbled into a painting. A prayer. A love letter he hasn’t sent yet.

He doesn’t see you at first. Not until the music swells and he turns, as if he felt you there.

And then he smiles.

Soft. Crooked. Devastating.

“Kitten,” he says, and it’s more breath than word. Like it’s what he calls you in his dreams. He sets the wine glass down and stretches out a hand. Waits.

You walk to him like you’re answering a call only your heart could hear. Let him pull you into him, chest to chest, arms looping around your waist.

He sways you gently, no rhythm but the one carved out by familiarity and longing. His chin rests against your head. His breath slows.

“You’re tense,” he murmurs. “Bad day?”

You nod against him.

He hums again—this time just for you. The kind of sound that settles somewhere beneath your skin.

“You stress too much,” he whispers. “You should say yes to Onychinus.”

You laugh softly, and he smiles into your hair.

“I’m serious,” he says. “Better hours. Less paperwork. More time with me.”

You tilt your head up to meet his eyes, and there’s something there—quiet, pleading, full of love.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispers.

And for the first time all day, you feel like breathing is easy again.

His arms stay around you as the record spins, warm and worn like the moment it holds. Your head rests against his chest, and the steady thrum of his heartbeat syncs with the music. Slow. Certain. Home.

You feel him smile against your hair, just before he speaks.

“Do you remember this song?” he murmurs, voice low.

You don’t answer right away. Just listen. Let it settle. It’s familiar—soft horns, a slow piano, the same quiet ache it carried years ago.

He pulls back enough to look at you, thumb brushing over your cheek. His gaze is soft, glassy almost, like he’s somewhere halfway between now and then.

“This was the first song we danced to,” he says. “That night at the auction.”

You blink, surprised—and then the memory rushes back.

The charity gala. The old record player tucked into the corner of the rooftop garden. You in that dress he still keeps in the back of his closet, like fabric can hold a memory. Him, loosening his tie with a crooked smile, asking you—quietly—if you’d give him the honor.

You didn’t speak much that night. Didn’t need to. He had your hand. You had his heart.

And now—years later—he’s holding you the same way.

“I remember,” you whisper.

He closes his eyes for a moment like that admission means something more than words. When he opens them again, there’s a softness there that makes your knees go weak.

“I almost kissed you then,” he says, his smile gentle and rueful. “Didn’t. Thought it would be too soon. Thought I’d scare you off.”

You laugh under your breath. “You waited until the next mission. When I had a concussion.”

“Strategic timing,” he says with a shrug. “You were too dazed to push me away.”

You nudge him in the ribs. He catches your hand and twines your fingers with his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles like you’re still on that rooftop. Like you’re still everything.

“I’d do it all again,” he murmurs. “The auction. The dance. The stupid nerves. Even the part where I watched you flirt with that diplomat for intel and nearly combusted.”

You smile up at him. “You were jealous.”

“Desperate.” His eyes drop to your lips. “I’ve always been… a little helpless with you.”

The record hums on, gentle as a heartbeat. And Sylus—half-dressed, half-saint, half-myth—pulls you in closer. Dancing with you like the world outside the music doesn’t exist.

And in that moment, it doesn’t. It’s just you. Him. And the echo of a memory that still chooses to stay.

— I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!

[written-in-knife]

Hi! Could I please request something with Jade. Maybe angst/comfort and a bit suggestive. Imagine that the reader/yuu has found a way back home and starts kind of avoiding Jade due to not wanting to leave him but also not really feeling like fitting in in Twisted Wonderland. How would this play out, and how would Jade take action? Or if you've got your own plot or genre, that's fine too!

Thanks! Really liked your recent fic about Rook :)

Easy to Read

Jade Leech x gn!reader, established relationship

they/them pronouns, Jade calls the reader darling, angst/comfort, open ended

Word Count: 1882

The merform pulls are going SO GOOD Y'ALL. IM JUST SO PLEASED. IM NOT AT ALL UPSET OR TAKING IT OUT ON JADE IN THIS FIC. HA HA. HA HAHA. Anyways. I love getting a plot prompt, it's really hard to come up with ideas sometimes, so thank you! It's a little shorter than my other ones, but I do really like how it turned out, I hope y'all do too!

After so long, Crowley finally approached you with the news you'd been waiting for. He could send you home, as soon as you wanted. You heard the undertones in his voice that indicated he would prefer sooner rather than later, but with how many messes you'd cleaned up for him and the outrage it would inevitably spark from the many friends you'd made, he had no room to demand you leave that night.

You were pleased. You were supposed to be pleased. This is what you had wanted all along, right? To go home? This world was a place of magic so far removed from where you were born. You had no place in it, you didn't belong here.

These thoughts kept spiraling in your head from the second Crowley told you the news while you debated how you were supposed to tell your friends that you likely weren't ever going to see them again. How you were supposed to tell Jade... How were you supposed to tell Jade? He'd always been able to see straight through you, always able to tell when something was off and almost always able to fix it before you even said it out loud. How were you supposed to tell the one person who understood you so perfectly-- sometimes better than you knew yourself-- that you were leaving and probably never coming back? You weren't ready to face it yet. Despite the undertones, Crowley had given you time, and you were going to take as much of it as you could.

For the first few days, you tried to just play it cool and act normal, but Jade could tell something was off. He always could. You may as well have been an open book to him, all your problems laid out on the pages bolded and underlined. He knew there was something wrong, but for once, he couldn't figure out what it was. You could tell by the way he looked at you, the question behind his eyes as tried to look for the answers in yours. But you weren't ready yet. He watched as you started to shy away from him. It was the little things at first; avoiding eye contact when you were alone which lead to too much eye contact when you realized what you were doing, the way your fingers twitched when he reached for your hand, as if you wanted to pull it away before he could grab hold, the way you held onto him a little tighter and a little longer whenever he had his arms around you. He could see all the signs, plain as day, but the answer still eluded him. He could garner nothing from your friends, there were no hints at Ramshackle. He hated not knowing, but assumed you would tell him when you were ready. But after the first few days, you started to pull away more. You stopped going to the Mostro Lounge to see him during his shifts, you were going out of your way to avoid him after classes let out by following Ace and Deuce to Heartslabyul instead, you'd even called to cancel a date the two of you had set up a month prior. You were so easy to read, so why couldn't he figure this out?

As easy as it was for Jade to read you, it was even easier for Floyd to read Jade. Perks of being with someone since birth. He knew something was up between the two of you from the first stray eye twitch. So he watched. He watched Jade's reactions as you started to pull further and further away, watched his brother slowly unraveling with worry. Not enough for most people to notice, but Floyd saw. He saw the weird, lost look in his eyes before he could slap on that usual neutral smile and the disappointment on his face after another shift that you didn't show up in the middle of. Floyd wanted to believe you two would work it out on your own, but it was really getting on his nerves. So when Jade actually zoned out during a meeting about the lounge, Floyd finally lost it.

"Just go talk to Shrimpy already!" Floyd groaned loudly, draping himself dramatically over the couch. "You're killing the mood!"

"I apologize, I wasn't aware that my relationship troubles were interfering with your good time." Jade shot back with a sarcastic smile on his face. "I assure you, I will endeavor to think quieter thoughts as to not ruin your day."

"As much as I hate to admit it, Floyd is right." Azul sighed from his desk, Floyd giving him a shit eating grin that was promptly ignored. "You've been off your game for well over a week now, I think it's high time to cut the dramatics and go confront the problem."

Jade's tense smile thinned as his eye started twitching again. "And how do you propose I confront a problem that I have no knowledge of and haven't been informed about?"

"What, they haven't told you what's wrong?" Azul asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"They haven't told me that there is anything wrong."

"So then why are you just moping about it?" Floyd grumbled. "Go ask! I dunno if Shrimpy bites, but they ain't gonna bite harder than I am if you don't get your shit together!"

Jade scoffed, but bit his tongue. He knew he was being silly about it, just wishing that you would come forward with your worries on your own when it was becoming more and more clear that you had no intention of doing so. Not without a nudge. There was also a small part of him that worried that you'd disagreed with something he'd done and were afraid to talk to him about it. Afraid of him. He usually delighted in people having a healthy fear of him, but you? The idea that you could be afraid of him hurt more than he cared to admit. Floyd was right, he had to go talk to you. He didn't want to corner you, but there seemed to be no other way to be alone with you anymore.

He waited another day to put his plan into action. It was hardly a plan, to be perfectly honest. Jade had watched you follow Ace and Deuce to Heartslabyul after class again, and went to Ramshackle to wait for you to come back. He didn't know what else to do. Hours ticked by, a pot of tea long cold and he could swear he had dug grooves into the floor from all the pacing he'd done by the time you returned home. He stopped in front of the fireplace as he heard the door open, followed by a loud and long sigh before you headed towards the lounge. You froze when you turned the corner and saw him standing there, his ever present smile still on his face but it looked forced. You shuffled in place for a moment before entering the lounge to drop your bag on the couch, not looking at him.

"Hey Jade." You said, clearing your throat to try to get rid of the strain behind your voice. "What's going on?"

"I could ask you the same." He'd been debating how to approach the topic while he was waiting for you, not sure if it was better to be blunt or to ease into it. The heat of the moment ultimately made the decision for him.

"What do you mean...?"

"We don't need to play this game, darling, I've barely seen you in a week."

"I've been busy..." It was a weak argument on your part, and you knew it. You couldn't look up at him, eyes glued to the floorboards as you lied through your teeth. You weren't ready yet.

"You've been busy before, this is not that." He took a couple tentative steps towards you, like he was trying not to scare you off. "Please, talk to me. I only wish to help."

You weren't ready yet. "I don't think you can..."

"I'd like to try."

The abnormally soft tone to his voice is what finally pushed you over the edge. Tears blurred your vision before you could stop them, a massive lump in your throat cutting off any defense you could try to form in a pitiful whimper as you did your best to just not start sobbing. Jade was in front of you in two steps, gathering you up tenderly in his arms as you desperately tried to wipe away the tears before your face could become overrun. You weren't ready yet, but you were out of time. Crowley had pulled you aside a few times already asking for your decision, getting more and more impatient with each visit.

"Crowley found a way for me to go h-home." You managed to choke out around the sobs in your throat. You felt Jade tense up for a moment before some invisible tension was lifted off of him, making him relax against you with a light chuckle.

"Oh, darling, is that all?"

You paused for a second at the audacity of the question, as if all your worries meant nothing. "What do you mean, is that all?!" You bit out, smacking his chest and taking a step back. "I'm going home! I'll never... I'll never get to see you again..."

He frowned, blinking in confusion for a second before reaching out and wiping a stream of tears off your face. "You've... already decided then?"

"What?"

"You said Crowley found you a way home, not that he was forcing you to take it," he explained, "meaning you have a choice to stay or go."

"I..." You hesitated with a sniffle. He was right, you did have a choice, but... "I don't belong here, Jade. I was never supposed to be here."

"But you are." He cut in quickly before you could go on, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "You are here, whether you were "supposed" to be or not." He pulled you back in against his chest, one hand carding through your hair and the other tight against your back. "I often feel I don't belong on land, but I am here. I have found purpose on land, I've found hobbies and interests and love on land, even feeling that I don't belong." The determination in his voice made you cry a little harder. "Just because I am out of place does not mean I don't want to be here... Do you want to be here?"

You nodded into his chest, snaking your arms around his waist. "I just don't know if I should be." You admitted, no louder than a whisper.

"That is something only you can decide." He muttered into your hair before pressing his lips to the top of your head. "Whatever you decide, I will respect it... but if I may be a bit selfish?" You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes as he gave you a sad but hopeful smile, pressing one hand to your cheek again. "I would prefer it if you stayed."

You didn't have to say it out loud, he could see the answer behind your eyes. You were always so easy to read.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[oddlylovingaddiction]

; Coming Full Circle

Part 1: Here , Part 2: Here , Part 3: You’re here!

CW: Reader is pregnant BUT is gender neutral only being referred to as you, if you don't have the ability to get pregnant you do now (in this series). Neglected reader x (platonic.) bat family. Reader is probably around in your 20s (21 - 25) and is the 5th(??) oldest.

TW: Past abuse in the form of emotional neglect/abuse, pregnancy, panic attacks and angst

After passing out from the emotions of the shopping trip you woke up to your warm bed. It seems someone (other than Damian, he was too small to carry an adult.) had placed you on your bed, removed your shoes and removed anything that would snag or choke you in your slumber as well, it seems they also left your shopping bags at the foot of your bed. You were starting to wonder if that shopping tripped really ending up helping you because now it’s 12:32 at night and you’re texting your husband you were supposedly not talking to and you felt unbelievably drained from all that crying you did. Usually you’d cry in his arms while he comforts you so perhaps that’s why your reaching out to him.

You:

I’m fine. And I’m safe just need some space

Him:

I want to give that to you but I’m just nervous not knowing where you are.

You can feel a headache coming on, perhaps from the crying, the fact you were still in your day clothes and from the fact he was so insistent on your location, fair enough, you disappeared with almost nothing on you and also, in his eyes, randomly one day with no signs that you would be away from him for so long. You choose to turn off your phone and just lay there. Honestly it’s all too much. These hectic phew days seeing your family again has been overwhelming. You can’t lie and say you aren’t enjoying the attention but at the same time you feel this gnawing feeling in your chest. The lingering in the back of your mind being ‘Is this all real? Was the years of neglect real or did I imagine it all? Has everyone always cared I didn’t notice?’ and arguably the most significant reason to you ‘what was the reason for it all?’

You can feel your mind start spiralling and you begin to feel sick. You hate it all. Hate being aware of everything all at once. Hate the almost never ending unanswered questions.

You quickly get up shaking your head gently refusing to let it completely overwhelm you, grabbing some PJs you change into as you do. They smell like your him, you both use the same detergent so it always reminds you of each other. You then slide on your slippers as you walk to the kitchen to get a late night snack. You’ve been have some pregnancy cravings but nothing super weird surprisingly, like pickles and peanut butter.

In the kitchen you search for some of your favourite snacks to eat lately, unfortunately there’s none left so you settle for some fruit you like, not as tasty like the ones you have at home but decent enough. The moonlight comes through the kitchen window making you think once again as you bite into the succulent fruit while you lean against the marble kitchen counters. The night is quiet, perfect for unwelcomed overthinking.

‘I wonder what would’ve happened if I stayed here?’

‘What would’ve happened if I never had gotten pregnant?’

The worst thought of all though was; ‘is this sudden affection from everyone in this manor only because of the baby?’

You love your baby you do but you’d hate for all this affection to be just for the child. You are your family’s child first and all you want is for them to love you as you and not for the child you carry.

You feel a slight buzz in your pyjama pocket. You’ll have to deal with your true family before your second, and right now part of your true family is worried about you.

Him:

Please talk to me, my love.

You pause sighing, perhaps if you were raised in a healthy family you could’ve grown up to handle conflict better. Maybe you would still be there with him in your shared home. No point in lamenting about it though.

You:

I’m here sorry I needed to take a break, I was getting overwhelmed.

Him:

Thats okay I’m sorry… I’m just scared

Your husband has always been kind and patient with you even when you found even yourself difficult. Of course he makes mistakes, but he never hurts you and he would never emotionally abandon you like this cursed family did and yet here you were abandoning him, thinking about that makes you wince slightly.

You:

That’s fair… I’m sorry.

Ever since our last argument I’ve been struggling a bit. I know it seems minor but the fact we disagreed on something so small but important around our child is scary. Because what happens next?

All your thoughts spill out as you type, like an overflowing fountain, speaking of fountains you can feel your eyes fill up with tears as you type.

Will we continue to argue about every small thing, like on how to parent our child? Will you get tired if we just continuously disagree and fight? What happens when the baby comes, if I’m like this now will I really be a good parent? Can I even love when I was raised without it?

Your sweet husband knows everything about your childhood and you know everything about his. He never once judged or blamed you for the trauma you endured, he was always on your side.

Him:

I know you’re scared, my love. but one disagreement doesn’t mean our marriage will fall apart, raising a life can be scary but that’s why we are doing it as a team and not as individuals.

I’ll never get tired of you, I intend to stay true to our marriage vows and love you in sickness and in health. I’ll never be tired of you and I won’t be tired of the baby because I love you both. Also you will be a good parent, I know it. Just because you may have been raised without love and care doesn’t mean you can’t love and care anymore, you’re married to me and you love me just fine.

Don’t doubt yourself so much. Thinking so big about everything all at once is bound to get you overwhelmed.

You can almost hear his naggy voice lecturing you towards the end making you giggle softly.

You:

Youer right I’m sorry. I love you so much ♡

God I feel like a fool right now.

Him:

My fool ♡

Now go to sleep I can tell you’re about to pass out because you spelt you’re wrong

Also I bet the reason you stayed away from me for so long is you were too embarrassed

Shit! He caught you. You should’ve known better but he can practically see through you sometimes so you don’t know why you’re surprised. You laugh softly and hang your head slightly at the fact you can still feel the connection when you’re both apart. It’s a testament that you both are truly blessed with one another.

You:

Will do, love you again. Also your bet was right, I’ll text you my location tomorrow so you can pick me up.

Him:

Looking forward to it ♡

You yawn after he sends his last text for tonight, he was right all anxiety has left you with a giant puddle of sleepiness. You eat the last slice of your fruit, wash your hands in the kitchen sink, then finally you walk back to bed.

You’ve never walked around so late it’s almost eerie how quiet it all is, when you were younger you were afraid monsters would get you as sometimes you heard weird noises when you did try to venture outside your room.

Perhaps you should’ve looked around at night more because then you wouldn’t be lost, wandering around a large manor in a sleepy haze, desperate to get back to bed. “Office…?” You mumble looking into rooms for the staircase so you could get to your room to no avail.

Somehow you end up in Bruce’s study, that he once expressed you weren’t supposed to go into at any point, normally you’d listen, it was just an office after all but the sleep made you bold as you step in.

The room in your sleepy vision was normal.

Minus the bookcase behind the desk which was moved to the side to reveal a staircase going down. The shock of the weird bookcase and stairs going down sobered you up from your sleepy haze.

“Wait.. we had a basement?”

You crept down the dark stairwell, the only way you knew where you were going is because of the small lights that lined the walls as you descended. The stairs and the walls weren’t old and rickety for a secret passage, they were what looked to be sold black iron all around minus the matching black carpet going down the middle of the stairs.

“This isn’t weird at all…” you mumble sarcastically to yourself.

You can’t decide what would be worse a creepy old staircase that looks like it lead to a dungeon or a staircase that looks like it would lead you to something like a room for experiments. Either way it felt like you were about to witness something you shouldn’t have seen.

If only you knew how right you were.

Finally you reached the end of the stairs, if you were even still a tiny bit sleepy that terribly long walk down got rid of it. You walk a wide corridor, what looks to be different entrances to rooms line the walls. You want to open one and check but your body pushes you to continually walk forward.

Once you reach the end you see two see-through automatic doors, when you step past one you panic as you’re sprayed down with what you can only assume are chemicals. One you step through the other, you’re greeted with a very large cave.

A cave full of shit you’d never find in a cave, like cars and, sitting in the middle of the very big cave, what looks to be a giant computer.

Alarm bells ring in your head, this definitely wasn’t for you to see. But those alarm bells and everything else in your head quickly dies when you see Bruce, Dick and Alfred walking towards you talking amongst themselves.

You wouldn’t feel this sudden horrifying pit in your stomach if that was it.

No. If that was it you’d be fine. But instead Dick and Bruce were in costumes.

Not just any costumes but Batman and Nightwing costumes.

‘No.’

‘There’s just no way.’

‘This is a joke.’

But you knew it wasn’t when Alfred looked ahead and met your eyes, his face paling at the realization of you standing there and that’s all you needed to turn and run.

You run back to the see-through doors, down the black hallway and up the black stairs. You are pretty sure you can hear yelling but you can’t hear it over the sound of your own breathing as you hyperventilate.

Everything you knew about your family has come crashing down. What was real? Who else knew? No, they all must’ve known. It makes sense that everyone in this family knew but you. Which other superhero was secretly your family member?

Your vision blurs from tears. They were superheros. Saving EVERYONE. EVERYDAY. But they could forget your birthdays, they could forget your existence. Watching your brothers and sisters celebrate their birthdays all together as a happy family and Bruce, your DAD, YOUR BIOLOGICAL DAD couldn’t find time to get you a different gift each year.

Everywhere feels unsafe, all you could do was run to the living room before you could feel the air in your throat get stuck from how quick you were breathing. The tears blurring your vision.

You quickly pull out your phone and quickly open your messages, your hand shaking as you click on your husband’s contact before sending him your location along with a single line saying ‘help’. You need to leave here fast no where feels safe. Everything feels fake.

As this is all happening you hear people call your name, through your tears you could make out Bruce and Dick.

“Hey hey hey let’s just calm down… it’s not a big deal! And what you saw wasn’t what it looked like.” Dick starts his own voice sounding unsure.

“N-not a- A BIG DEAL?” You manage to choke out and scream.

“Don’t be this way.” Bruce coldly glares at your reaction.

“DON’T BE THIS WAY?” You yell again, you’re pretty sure the entire manor is awake now from your cries. “You… you don’t get to tell me that.” You hiss through tears.

“Tell me, Bruce Thomas Wayne. Who else knows.” You ask slowly and carefully, voice full of spit.

There’s a silence before Bruce speaks up, “the… entire family knows.”

You go to laugh but before you can he adds on, “Because they’re all vigilantes too, we never told you because we wanted you to live a normal life...”

His voice fades away as the world around you shatters, a seemingly innocent illusion of a neglectful family has cracked and revealed a family who purposefully isolated you from themselves because they decided to choose for you that you’ll live a life full of wondering what you did so wrong to deserve this.

Your own father decided to tell the kids that aren’t even related to him to become heroes with him but here you were his biological child and yet he decided you weren’t worth it all.

You gently crumpled onto the floor.

Right before your husband decides to make a flashy entrance by shattering the living room window.

[syrecjh]

── .✦Matching Pajamas (That He Secretly Bought)

˚🎀༘⋆ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

It’s Christmas Eve, and you’ve just finished wrapping the last of the presents, a satisfied grin on your face as you admire the cozy scene in your living room. The tree twinkles softly in the corner, lights flickering in time with your own contentment. You turn to go put away the last of the ribbon and paper when you open the drawer and stop dead in your tracks.

There, folded neatly, are two sets of matching Christmas pajamas—one in your size, and one... well, in his size.

Your eyes widen as you pull them out, the red-and-green plaid pattern with little snowflakes looking oddly familiar. There’s no way—he didn’t.

You turn, eyebrows raised, to find Katsuki standing in the doorway, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights. He freezes when he sees the pajamas in your hands, then immediately crosses his arms, glaring at you like it’s your fault he’s been caught.

“It’s a coincidence,” he grunts, his usual gruff tone nowhere near convincing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You hold up the matching sets, your grin spreading wider. “Really? A coincidence? You’ve been hiding these in your drawer, Katsuki, Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

He scoffs, but you can see the faint pink tint to his cheeks. “I don’t need your judgment, okay? Just—shut up.”

You walk up to him, shaking your head with a smile that could rival the brightness of the Christmas tree. “I never thought I'd see the day where Katsuki Bakugo, the most anti-cute guy I know, would go out of his way to get matching Christmas pajamas. What’s next, you gonna buy me a matching sweater with reindeer on it?”

“I didn’t—” he starts, but you cut him off with a laugh.

Later that evening, after the presents have been exchanged and the house is filled with the warmth of Christmas cheer, you find yourself wrapped in the matching pajamas, sitting by the tree, sipping hot cocoa. You pull a blanket over your legs, snuggling into the soft fabric of the PJs.

And then, of course, Katsuki shows up. He’s wearing the exact same set, only slightly rumpled, and he’s glaring at you like you’re the one who made him wear them.

“Don’t say a word,” he mutters, eyes narrowing as he lowers himself beside you. The way his shoulders tense makes it clear he’s expecting you to say something about it.

You hold your tongue, trying not to laugh at how adorably flustered he looks, and instead, you reach out and pull him into the cozy space next to you. The smell of pine needles and fresh cinnamon fills the air as you both settle under the soft blanket, the glow of the tree lights casting a warm glow around the room.

Katsuki grumbles when your head rests on his shoulder, but he doesn’t move away. In fact, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you even closer, as if to protect the last shred of his pride that’s clinging to the fact that he’s wearing matching pajamas because he wanted to, not because you made him.

There’s a long pause before he finally speaks, his voice softer than usual. “This better be the last time you bring this up.”

But the smile on his face, and the way his hand subconsciously runs through your hair, says it all.

You don’t say a word. Instead, you simply snuggle in closer, enjoying the warmth of the moment—and the fact that, despite his grumbling, he’ll never admit it, but he’s totally in love with the idea of being cute with you, even if it’s just for this Christmas.

And when you glance up at him, his face softening as he looks back at you, you can't help but think that, maybe, matching pajamas weren't such a bad idea after all.

[unabashegirl]

Love Island — part 2

AU. Based on the TV show.

Author's note: I just wanted to take a moment to say a massive thank you for the incredible support you’ve shown for the first part of Love Island! Your reblogs, messages, and comments truly mean the world to me — I’ve read every single one with a huge smile on my face. You all make writing this series so much fun 💛

If there’s anything you’d like to see more of — whether it's certain dynamics, steamy moments, fluff, angst, or just pure drama — don’t be shy! My inbox is always open for blurb or one-shot requests.I’d love to bring your ideas to life!

⭐️ Please consider joining my Patreon -> Patreon

It’s only day two, but there’s already trouble in paradise. Y/N’s about to head upstairs to change, and of course, she’s bringing her best mate in the villa along for a little gossip session. After all, what would Love Island be without a bit of a squeak-filled chat about the latest hunk to drop in?

Y/N grabbed Chloe by the arm, a grin spreading across her face. “Come on, we need to talk!”

“Oh, spill, babe!” Chloe squeaked, and the two of them burst into laughter as they darted upstairs to the changing room. The laughter echoed through the villa as the girls nearly tripped over each other, barely containing their excitement.

Looks like someone’s eager for a debrief... but can you blame them? A certain tall, dark, and shirtless someone has all our heads turning.

The door clicked shut behind them as they found a spot in front of the mirror. Y/N rifled through her drawer, trying to look casual as she pulled out a sundress. Chloe leaned in, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Alright, so…” Chloe began, nudging Y/N with her elbow. “Harry! What do we think?”

Y/N tried to keep a straight face, but a giggle slipped out. “Oh, he’s... he’s definitely got a presence, doesn’t he?”

“Presence?” Chloe repeated, rolling her eyes. “Babe, he’s got more than just ‘presence.’ I saw the way he was looking at you. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit jealous!”

Y/N bit her lip, looking at her reflection as she adjusted her dress. “I mean, he’s fit, yeah. And the way he carries himself… I don’t know, there’s something about him.”

“Something about him,” she says. Go on, love, you can admit it—you’ve already got it bad! But what will Tom think if he catches a whiff of this little chat?

Chloe raised her eyebrows, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Listen, all I’m saying is, if he pulled me for a chat, I wouldn’t mind... but don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

“Oh, stop it!” Y/N said, nudging Chloe’s shoulder with a laugh. “Tom’s going to be fuming if he catches us even mentioning Harry.”

Chloe smirked, flipping her hair. “Let him fume! You’re here to find the one, not keep people happy. And besides, it’s not like Harry’s shy about showing he’s interested in you. Half the villa saw him making his way over to you this morning.”

Half the villa, you say? Well, folks, sounds like Tom may have some competition brewing—and Y/N’s the prize.

The door swung open, and in came Georgia with Lila and Amber, their voices spilling in like a burst of energy.

“There you are!” Georgia exclaimed, hands on her hips as she spotted Chloe and Y/N. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you two.”

“Oi, we’re right here!” Chloe laughed, exchanging a look with Y/N.

Georgia’s face lit up as she plopped down on the bench beside them. “I just have to say it… I really, really fancy Harry. Like, he could actually be the one.”

Chloe glanced sideways at Y/N, eyes widening, clearly trying not to laugh. Y/N looked away, keeping her expression neutral as she fiddled with her bikini strings.

“Oh, absolutely, babe,” Lila chimed in, grinning. “If you don’t make a move, I’m definitely giving him a shot.”

Georgia tossed her hair with a laugh, waving her hand. “Oh, go on then. I allow it. But you better be quick about it, or I’ll be the one nabbing him first.”

The girls dissolved into laughter, but then Georgia’s gaze turned thoughtful, and she leaned back, crossing her arms. “But seriously, though… no one in a stable relationship should be getting involved with him.”

A brief silence fell over the group as the words hung in the air. Chloe raised her brows, glancing again at Y/N with a knowing smile that didn’t go unnoticed.

Y/N chuckled, keeping her tone light. “Well, good thing it’s early days, yeah? Plenty of time for all of us to figure out what we want.”

Ooh, sounds like there’s a bit more at stake here than we thought. With the girls all vying for a piece of Harry, looks like things might heat up faster than anyone bargained for.

Amber crossed her arms and gave Georgia a skeptical look. “Hang on, that makes no sense, Georgia. Isn’t the whole point of Love Island to explore connections? Harry’s the one who should be deciding who he wants to be with, not us making some rule about it.”

Georgia raised an eyebrow, looking a bit taken aback. “Alright, Amber, but I’m just saying, it’s a bit out of line for someone in a solid coupling to be sniffing around him, don’t you think?”

Amber shrugged, not backing down. “If Harry wants to pull me for a chat, I’m not about to follow your silly rule, Georgia. And if he expresses interest in me, I’m definitely not holding back.”

Georgia’s jaw tightened, and she put her hands on her hips. “You know what, Amber? That’s not exactly being a ‘girls’ girl,’ is it? We’re all supposed to be on the same page here.”

Amber rolled her eyes, not missing a beat. “Girls’ girl? I’m here to find a connection, not to stick to some imaginary rulebook.”

Chloe and Y/N exchanged glances, struggling not to laugh at the sudden tension.

Looks like Georgia’s ‘rules’ aren’t quite going over as planned. Will Amber’s bold stance earn her a shot at Harry, or will Georgia’s “girls’ girl” code keep things from getting messy? Well, only time will tell—on Love Island, it’s every girl for herself.

Y/N mouthed “Wow!” at Chloe, eyebrows raised in disbelief. With a quick laugh, she picked up her sunglasses. “Right, I’m heading downstairs to tan and actually enjoy my book. Coming?”

“Absolutely,” Chloe grinned, trailing behind her. The two of them slipped outside and settled by the pool, stretching out on the loungers as Y/N flipped open her book.

Chloe leaned over, her tone quiet but full of curiosity. “So, what do you reckon about Georgia? She’s… a lot.”

Y/N sighed, sliding her sunglasses up her nose. “Yeah, Georgia’s definitely going to be an issue. Her and Tom both. It’s like… they’re more focused on the drama than actually getting to know people.”

Chloe laughed. “Spot on. Can already see her kicking off if Harry so much as looks at anyone else.”

Just then, their best mate in the villa, Callum, strolled over, plopping himself down beside them with a grin. “Alright, ladies. What’s all this gossip without me, eh?”

Y/N chuckled. “Nothing, don’t worry. Just a bit of Georgia talk. You know how it is.”

Callum raised an eyebrow, glancing between them. “I can imagine”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “Tell me about it. What about Tom, though? You talk to him this morning?”

Y/N sighed, closing her book for a moment. “He’s… sweet, but he’s already worried about where my head’s at. Keeps asking if I’m interested in Harry.”

Callum chuckled, shaking his head. “Not surprised. He’s definitely feeling the heat.”

Y/N nudged Callum with a playful grin. “Listen, if you go and tell the other lads any of this, I’ll kill you.”

Callum raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Alright, alright, not a word. My lips are sealed.”

Chloe leaned in, curiosity glinting in her eyes. “So… what’s the verdict then? What are you feeling?”

Y/N sighed, adjusting her sunglasses as she stared out over the pool. “Honestly? Tom’s… he’s lovely. He’s comfortable, you know? Comforting, even. But there’s no spark, no real passion there. I don’t feel a real connection.”

Chloe nodded, giving her a knowing smile. “That’s exactly it, though, isn’t it? If there’s no fire…”

Callum grinned, nudging her again. “So what you’re saying is… it’s not exactly end game with Tom, yeah?”

Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Not unless something changes, and fast.”

Well, folks, looks like the door is still wide open for a certain newcomer to spark a little fire in Y/N’s heart. And with Tom in the dark… this just might be the calm before the storm.

t’s challenge time in the villa! And today, it’s all about secrets. The game? Simple: each boy will slide down a massive ramp of slime, grab a card with a girl’s secret written on it, and read it out loud for the whole villa to hear. Then, he’ll make his guess by planting a kiss on the girl he thinks it’s about. Easy? Hardly. With secrets this juicy, the sparks are about to fly.

First up, it’s our very own new boy, Harry. Let’s see what he’s got…

Harry positioned himself at the top of the slippery ramp, a playful grin plastered across his face. With a cheeky shove, he launched himself down the slimy slope, landing with a splash at the bottom. He quickly grabbed the card, shaking off some goo as he read it aloud.

“This girl once went on a date with two different guys on the same night and accidentally mixed them up when they texted her later.”

The villa erupted in laughter, the girls exchanging wide-eyed glances as they tried to suppress their giggles. Harry scanned the group, his gaze landing on Y/N with a playful sparkle in his eyes.

With a confident stride, Harry stepped forward, closing the gap between them. He leaned in, capturing Y/N’s lips with a kiss that was anything but casual. It was deep and steamy, igniting a spark that sent a wave of heat rushing through her. The laughter faded as everyone watched, mouths agape, the chemistry between them palpable.

As he pulled back, a satisfied grin spread across Harry's face. “Well, I had to be sure,” he said, his voice low and playful, leaving Y/N breathless and the others in stunned silence.

The card was flipped, revealing that the secret actually belonged to Lila, much to everyone’s surprise.

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Shit”.

And there you have it, folks! A kiss that lit up the villa and sent shockwaves through the competition. Harry may have missed the secret, but that kiss? That’s a score for Y/N, and things are just heating up in the Love Island villa!

Next up, it’s Tom’s turn to take the slippery plunge into the chaos of secrets. With a determined look on his face, he approaches the ramp, ready to play his hand in this game of revelations. Will he manage to impress Y/N with his guess, or will he fall flat?

Tom launched himself down the slimy ramp, landing with a splat and swiftly grabbing the card. With a flourish, he read aloud, “This girl once swiped right on her ex’s best mate just to make him jealous, only to have them both show up at her door the next day!”

Laughter erupted in the villa again, and the girls exchanged knowing glances. Tom looked around, scanning the group, and finally settled on Y/N, a cheeky smile on his face. “Alright, let’s see if I can take a shot at this.”

Y/N felt a flutter of anticipation but quickly squashed it down. As Tom stepped toward her, she allowed him to lean in, but she knew she wasn’t feeling the same spark she had with Harry.

Tom’s lips met hers, and while it was nice, it didn’t ignite the fire she had hoped for. It was a brief kiss, lacking the intensity that had come from Harry just moments before. She forced a smile as he pulled back, trying to mask her disappointment.

Tom grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Was that you?

The card was flipped, revealing that the secret belonged to Chloe.

The room erupted into laughter again, and Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes, a small smirk on her face.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, his thoughts racing. Tom’s kiss had seemed so casual, so easy, and yet it had struck something deep within him. He thought back to the kiss he shared with Y/N, how electric it had felt, and how much he wanted to feel that again.

Harry's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and determination. He had only just arrived, yet here he was, feeling the pressure of this unexpected connection. He had to figure out how to navigate this budding relationship amidst the chaos of the villa.

As the laughter continued and the next boy prepared for his turn, Harry caught Y/N's eye across the room. She looked back at him, a curious smile on her lips, and in that moment, he knew he couldn’t just stand by. Something was pulling him towards her, and he needed to act on it before it was too late.

With the game still unfolding and emotions swirling, it was clear that this summer was going to be anything but ordinary. Let the drama begin!

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the villa, the atmosphere shifted from playful competition to a more intimate vibe. Y/N stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps of her long, tight red dress that hugged her curves perfectly. She felt confident and ready to make a statement, the color a bold choice that echoed her desire to stand out.

Just as she finished primping, a loud voice boomed from downstairs. “I’ve got a text!”

Y/N’s heart raced as she hurried to the top of the stairs, the anticipation hanging in the air. She peered down to see Harry holding his phone, a mischievous grin on his face, surrounded by the other contestants who were equally eager to hear the news.

Harry glanced at the message, a mix of excitement and tension flickering across his face. “Alright, here goes…” He cleared his throat dramatically before reading, “Harry, the time has come for you to choose whom you will be coupling with tonight!”

A hush fell over the group as the weight of the announcement sank in. Y/N felt her stomach drop at the implications of Harry's choice. The tension in the air was palpable, and she could see the other contestants exchanging nervous glances, the gravity of the situation setting in.

“Right, so it’s all on me, then,” Harry said, his playful demeanor giving way to a more serious tone. “No pressure at all, right?”

Y/N’s heart raced at the thought of being chosen—or worse, being left behind. Would Harry choose her? The thrill of the unknown buzzed in the air as she felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She wanted to believe that their earlier connection meant something, but the uncertainty lingered.

The warm glow of the fire pit flickered against the backdrop of the villa, casting a cozy ambiance as the night deepened. The contestants sat in their couples, anticipation palpable in the air, their faces illuminated by the dancing flames. All eyes were on Harry, who stood at the front, his usual confidence slightly wavering as he prepared to make his choice.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his nerves evident as he took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Alright, everyone,” he began, his voice steady but laced with a hint of apprehension. “This is a bit nerve-wracking, isn’t it?”

Laughter rippled through the group, easing the tension just a bit. Harry glanced at Y/N, who sat among the others, her eyes focused on him, a mixture of hope and anxiety swirling within them. He felt a rush of warmth as he continued.

“I’ve had a brilliant time here so far, and it’s all thanks to the amazing people around me. But there’s one girl in particular who’s really stood out to me,” he said, his gaze drifting toward Y/N. “She’s lovely, funny, and everything just feels so easy with her. It’s like I don’t have to force anything; it just flows naturally.”

“I know that we haven’t had a lot of time to get to know each other yet,” Harry continued, “but I feel a real connection with her, something I haven’t experienced in a while.” He paused, letting his words sink in as he gauged the reactions around him.

“And that’s why,” he said, a smile breaking through his nervousness, “tonight, I’ve decided to couple up with Y/N.”

A cheer erupted from the others, and Y/N’s heart soared at his declaration. Relief washed over her as she exchanged a glance with Harry, their eyes locking in a moment that felt electric. The fire crackled beside them, mirroring the excitement in the air, and Y/N couldn’t help but grin as she moved closer to him.

“Looks like Harry has made his choice, and it’s a choice that might just set the villa ablaze!” the narrator’s voice chimed in, the playful tone adding to the vibrant atmosphere. “But with new flames igniting, what does this mean for the other couples? Stay tuned, because the drama is just beginning!”

let me know if you would like me to add you to the tag list!

TAGLIST: @st-ev-ie, @harrystyleshotwife, @valuunit, @familyshow-orisit

--> part 3

[eddiazx]

homecoming - eddie diaz x reader

Eddie hears her before he sees her.

An adorable voice that comes from several feet away. A voice belonging to a child, a child that was roughly 7 or 8 years old, probably the same age as Christopher. 

Eddie had been with the 118 for three months by now. He truly loves the job; it was rewarding and he loved being in service of people. Among their calls though, there were quite a handful of cats getting stuck in trees. Which was why they were currently at a park, Eddie resting a foot behind him against the fire engine, while he watches Buck climb up a ladder to extract the cat. Chim was popping his gum, explaining a new sci-fi flick that just came out to Hen, who to her credit, was doing a great job acting like she cared. 

“Are you a firefighter?” The voice had asked. Eddie looks down at the little girl, a girl who looked so very familiar with her hair in two braids and brown doe eyes. 

Eddie smiles automatically, and crouches down to be at the same height as the girl. “What gave it away?” He jokes, and he’s met with the sweetest giggle that he swears could cure diseases. 

“My mommy said that firefighters are unsung heroes. We actually had one come to the coffee shop that my mommy owns. It’s named after me! I don’t drink coffee though, I’m still too little. I do love the honey banana bread she makes though! That's why my mom calls me bee."

Eddie listens with patience, a soft smile on his face at the little girl’s rambling. Chris does the same thing - gets very enthusiastic and starts over-explaining with run-on sentences. It’s the most endearing quality ever, in Eddie’s opinion. 

“Yeah? Do you know where your mommy is now?” Eddie asks.

“Bee, what did we say about you running off without telling me?” A voice asks. Eddie’s eyes follow the voice and is met with an assault on all his senses, including a very clear pang in his chest. 

You look even better than you had nine years ago, which Eddie didn’t even think could be possible, since he already thought you were gorgeous when the two of you had dated at 18 years old. 

Your face drops when you realize who your daughter was talking to. The boy, or rather the man, who had broken your heart all those years ago. The one who your daughter shared DNA with. The one who didn’t even know he had another child, because you had left Texas for L.A. the second the strip turned pink. 

You recover quickly, putting your hands on your daughter’s shoulders. “Hey bee, Milo was asking if you wanted to play go-fish. Can you head over there? Mommy will be just a minute.” 

“Okay!” She tells you with a beaming grin. She then turns to Eddie, and says, “I liked talking to you firefighter man! You should come to my mommy’s shop sometime!” With that, she runs over to where your friends and family were. 

You internally curse the fact that your daughter was such a social butterfly, before finally meeting Eddie’s eyes. He looks like he was struck by lightning; eyes wide and mouth gaping. He was reeling, and you couldn’t really blame the guy. 

“She’s mine.” He says, eventually. It isn’t a question, rather, a simple statement, but you nod anyway. The familiarity that he had seen in the child makes so much sense now, down to the quirk of her smile that you have - but he could also see features of himself in her. The pang in Eddie’s chest was now reduced to a chronic, dull ache at all the years and memories he wasn’t there for. Again.

“I know it’s a lot to ask”, he starts, voice rough but surprisingly steady for someone who just received world-altering news, “but I think Christopher - my son, and I would love to get to know her more. I feel like they’d get along great. Could we all get to know each other?” The words feel wrong a bit, because there was a time where Eddie and you had known each other inside and out. Likes, dislikes, dreams, fears, and life goals - you had practically been an Eddie Diaz encyclopedia.

You’re pensive as you consider his request. You knew this day would come, where you would have to have this conversation with the father of your child. It doesn’t stop the fear gripping your insides, the fear that he would get close to the two of you, and then proceed to leave. It was a fear that was supremely unfair to Eddie, because he didn’t know when he chose to marry Shannon that you had been in the same predicament. And you didn’t know that hours before he was due at the altar, he had stood in front of your then empty house, desperately hoping you would tell him not to marry Shannon.

So with a rapidly beating heart, you smile softly. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s get to know each other.” 

[contamination-zone]

5 times Fresh acted like an animal, and 1 time Color 'Got it.'

[first chapter - prev chapter - next chapter]

beta read by @/calamarispider

[UTMV fic] Contains: Platonic Fresh & Color, Fresh & Killer, and Color & Killer, misunderstandings, abuse, food warning [forced to eat dog food] [4,000~ words]

“What would you do if you got out?” It took Fresh a moment to realize it hadn’t imagined Killer speaking. “Nightmare knows we all want out. Saying something to me can’t make this any worse with him.” “I don’t know, run off? Hide in a ditch? What do you want me to say?” Its voice got scratchier and more rough as it spoke, leaving it to end the sentence coughing. Killer was quiet as he watched it, his eyes those same empty black pits. “Okay.” He finally said. What was that supposed to mean? He believed it? Got what he wanted? Just felt like saying that? It stifled a growl and just silently followed him. 

Fic undercut or on ao3!

“You look tired.” From behind him; Killer, he recognized instantly.

Color turned to look at him, smiling something small, “how can you tell? You were looking at the back of my skull.”

The other didn’t answer, just slinking closer so they could settle their head on his shoulder, and their hand on his other. Color laughed; the slant of his shoulders told them all that? Trust his closest friend to always notice when he felt off.

“Is it really that bad…?” He asked. Sometimes it wasn’t. They were scarily observant, and when they pointed things out to Color, it wasn’t always something anyone else would notice.

His hopes were dashed when Killer huffed, annoyed, “Yes.” 

“Sorry about that…” Color said, lifting a hand to cup Killer’s cheek, “you know why.”

He leaned into the touch, but let his eyes fall half-lidded in a ‘done with this’ expression. “If I’d know you’d want to keep it, I wouldn’t have brought it here.”

“Hey!” Color chided, “don’t talk about Fresh like that. And I’m not ‘keeping it,’ it just… needs a little help getting on its feet. I’m sure it’ll strike out on its own when it’s feeling better.”

Killer gave him a piercing stare [it resembled all his other expressions, but Color could guess the intention]. He was still happy they felt comfortable enough to get snippy with him; it hadn’t been too long since Killer got away from Nightmare, and any agency they showed couldn’t help but make him smile.

“Okay,” he huffed, “even if it doesn’t, I’m happy to give it a place to stay. You know that.”

They wrapped their arms around his shoulders, more of a hug than the lean they were doing beforehand. “Yeah yeah, just the type of monster you are.” The words were blasé, nearly apathetic, but Color knew there was affection underneath. It made the guilt worse.

“Yeah.” It felt bad to agree, when he knew Killer clearly felt a little jealous of all the attention Fresh was getting, but he really couldn’t do anything else. Even without the six Soul’s influence, he didn’t think he could leave a monster to flounder without help, let alone one as clearly traumatised as Fresh.

“I’m going out tomorrow,” Color said, instead of any of the words he’d wanted to about duty or greater good, about how really, he was sorry, “just ah, to get clothes for Fresh. Want to come with?”

A silent stare, so he knew Killer was really considering it. Finally, just before he could take it back, affirm that Killer didn’t have to do anything they didn’t feel comfortable with, they answered, “sure, Color. Sounds good.”

He smiled. It’d be nice to spend some time with his best friend.

———

He woke early, because he knew he’d need that sort of energy.

Any type of routine was difficult to manage for him, after so long in a space without time or need for anything of the like, but he thought he’d been getting his morning routine pretty locked down lately. Brushing his teeth, getting dressed, cooking breakfast- all things he’d struggled with right when he got out of the void, but not as much these days. It made him feel good, that he’d made such clear progress, hopeful for those he was helping to be able to do the same.

Of course, there was more than just him who relied on that routine [probably the only reason he tried so hard with it]. With that in mind, he knocked on Killer’s door, letting him know breakfast was ready.

They were opening the door before he even stepped back, already awake and waiting. A little unsettling, but he knew Killer just liked to follow the routine they usually did, even if it wasn’t enforced at all; that meant, of course, leaving his room when Color went to fetch him for breakfast.

“Breakfast is on the table,” he told Killer, already moving to Fresh’s room. Killer followed him instead of heading to eat right away— a clingy mood already, probably because Color promised to hang out.

“Joining me?”

They gently pushed their shoulder to his as they walked, a silent confirmation. He smiled, “Got it.”

He gently rapped his knuckles against the door, with a warning that Killer would be joining as well. 

Fresh made an acknowledging noise, and he wondered if everyone woke up before him.

Just like always, when he entered it regarded him with wide eyes and an attentive posture. Nothing too nervous though, and he smiled at it, glad Killer’s presence didn’t seem to be a problem.

“Morning, Fresh.”

“G’morning.” It mumbled back. It eyed Killer and gave him a slight dip of its head in acknowledgment, to which they regarded it with a blank stare in turn. Neither seemed to be blinking.

“Ooookay-“ Color interrupted, “Got breakfast! Bacon and eggs good?”

It turned its attention right back to Color at that, giving him a shaky nod before standing up, silent in its movements. It was almost alarming how such a large and imposing monster just disappeared into the background. 

On the way to the dining table, Killer and Fresh regarded each other again with nothing but a quick meeting of eyes before their attention went back to him, and he wondered how well they knew each other from before they got out from Nightmare’s thumb. There had to have been a little affection on Killer’s half, else Color didn’t know why he’d decide to take Fresh with him at all. Neither showed it though, barely even acknowledging the other ever, so he wondered if his theory was wrong. Still, the little glances could mean anything. He knew they were both very clever.

They made it to the table before the silence got too awkward, and the three settled in to eat breakfast. He passed Killer the bottle of ketchup for his eggs before he asked.

“We’re, me and Killer,” he said, once they were all sat, “going out to buy you some clothes. Got any preferences?”

It shifted awkwardly at that, frozen with a fork halfway to its mouth. “Uh- I’m good with anything, man.” 

“It likes colorful things.” Killer said as Color was trying to figure out how to press for more info without spooking it.

“Killer,” he hissed, though there was no vitriol. While he did trust Killer to be right about things like this, he just… wanted Fresh to feel the agency of choosing to reveal facts about itself. Make it feel like what he got for it was its choice. 

Killer had no remorse on his face, though he did do a token, “sorry.”

He sighed, though didn’t push further. There was no was no way he’d be able to stay mad at him anyway, and they both knew it.

Looking back at Fresh, it had a pinched look on its face, eyebrows pressed downwards and mouth in a frown. When it noticed him looking, it quickly schooled its face into something more ‘open’ looking [though he doubted it really was].

“Were you confused on something?” He asked.

It was silent for a bit, but after a glance at Killer [for support?], it mumbled, “You ain’t mad? That sorry was sooo off base.”

There was a well of sadness in his chest at that. Did Fresh think he’d get angry at Killer and treat them as badly Nightmare assuredly was when he himself got mad at the two of them?

“No, no,” he reassured it, “I love Killer, he’s my best friend- I just got a little annoyed is all. And even if I did get mad, we’d talk it out.”

Fresh hummed, the picture of easy acceptance, but he could tell it was going to be mulling that over for a while underneath the surface. 

Coughing into its fist, it changed the subject, “I do like colorful things- brighter the better.” More shifting, eyes catching sneak peeks at him before skittering away. He made sure to smile encouragingly. It couldn’t keep eye-contact. “The sweaters you let me borrow were pretty rad too…”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled wide, something settled in him knowing he didn’t shove it into anything it didn’t want to be wearing. His eyes couldn’t help but drift to the collar at that, but he didn’t linger. Anytime it caught him staring it would clutch at the tag and press it close to itself— whatever meager comfort it brought to it, he would never understand. That was okay though, he wasn’t going to force the issue.

It nodded, shy, and didn’t say anything else, fully focusing its attention on breakfast. He didn’t press, letting it retreat out of the conversation.

Breakfast was done quickly and he was left feeling satisfied for more reasons than how good the eggs tasted. Progress was made today, which he was glad for.

Killer had already ambled out of the room, in the direction of the door most likely. Before Color left, he turned to Fresh.

“We’ll only be gone for a few hours, hope you don’t get too bored without us.” He laughed, “you have free reign of the house, just don’t go into either me or Killer’s rooms without a good reason, yeah?”

It nodded, giving him a thumbs up, “you got it. Same as always.”

He… did usually give the same spiral every time he left. “Sorry sorry, repeating myself here” He laughed, “I’ll get outta your hair. Bye Fresh.”

“Ah- see’ya.” It said, awkwardly.

He took that as his cue that he’d probably started to overwhelm it, and left to follow Killer out. 

He’d left it alone in the house a few times already— things were going to be fine, he reminded himself. 

Killer bumped shoulders with him as he got out, and he smiled, relaxing at the support. With his best friend at his side, things felt a lot more manageable. Maybe it really was going to be okay.

———pov: Fresh———

It woke to a kick to its side, and a sharp hiss from above ordering it to get up. It sounded like Killer.

The other must have been on pet duty. Usually he didn’t feel so energetic to it though. Maybe that was because it felt so awful today— it must’ve not woken up when he’d first tried to rouse it. Everything felt kind of hazy, a rare occurrence even though it just woke up; it was almost always quick to categorise its surroundings, it had to to survive.

His hand curled around its collar and dragged it up. Speaking back was usually useless, and it didn’t really want to deal with whatever power trip Killer was on, so it went limp. He wasn’t allowed to harm it too much, so it had some leeway to make his life difficult, at least until Nightmare got back from his trip and heard about its attitude.

This was doing nothing for the phantom of throat pain it was already dealing with, and it choked down any coughs. It needed to look unaffected— coughing and spluttering would be the opposite of that.

A pull, “get up.” The sharp words weren’t helping Fresh want to work with him anymore than the painful tugging.

Still, it noted something; a hint of genuine emotion colored his words. It hadn’t seen that with Killer often, the other usually a mask of empty cheer. “There’s even something innit for you.” He continued.

It regarded him with a half-lidded stare, asking, “What?” in a voice sounding a bit gravelly, and it forced itself not to cringe. Even after years away from its normal act, things that contradicted its image still got to it.

It tried to ignore the discomfort, focusing on the moment at hand, Killer’s offer. There wasn’t much that interested Fresh these days, except the possibility of escape; it highly doubted that was what Killer was suggesting.

“Got a special treat to go with your food today.”

Boring, bordering on insulting. Treating it like a mangy mutt excited for a bigger slice of meat, as if it wasn’t still going to be rotten.

“It’s going to be dog food either way.”

“Cat food.” Killer corrected.

It regarded him like he’d said something particularly stupid, but didn’t argue further. Whether it was dog food or cat food, neither made the idea of a treat alongside it any better. “Fine, fine. Lead the way, ‘boss’”

Killer didn’t take the bait like the other two would. Maybe he really didn’t care how similar to Nightmare he acted. He just pulled harder on its collar until it had no choice but to get its feet under it. At least it could be comforted by the fact Killer was going to be punished for leaving bruises on its neck.

Once up, Killer wasted no time in clipping its leash to the collar, before setting a brisk pace to the kitchen. A no-nonsense attitude. It was both better and worse than the others. They, at least, seemed uncomfortable interacting with it. Still, it meant there was less hesitance, that things would be over with quickly.

It wouldn’t have been able to keep pace if its legs weren’t almost double Killer’s in length. Normally it didn’t have trouble with that, but its joints ached and it felt a headache forming. It didn’t want to be doing this right now.

Its feelings on the matter didn’t matter though, not to anyone but Nightmare anyway [and he certainly cared about them in a way wholly unhelpful to it]. They found themselves at the entrance to the kitchen much quicker than Fresh would have liked.

Killer looped the leash around one of the many knots of stone and wood the castle seemed to  have in abundance [courtesy of being made by Nightmare, a plant adjacent… thing, Fresh thinks], and started prepping Fresh’s ‘meal.’

It hesitated to call it that. Meals were supposed to be alive, squirming, and, most importantly, containing magic. What Nightmare had scheduled it to eat whenever he was gone was not that, not in anyway at all. The cheapest dog or cat food one could buy, usually smushed up with a spoon and mixed with kibble. All served up to it in a little red dog bowl, only labeled ‘pet.’

Another way to demean it, Fresh was sure. When Nightmare was in, he’d only feed it new hosts or sweet treats Nightmare was enjoying himself. An association the guardian of negativity was trying to brute force into existence, that he meant it was getting fed real food. 

It stubbornly refused to wish Nightmare was here so it wouldn’t have to eat this horrid mixture while sick just to spite him, resolving to be extra awful to its ‘owner’ when he got back.

Of course, if Killer really was giving it a treat along with its dish, that could throw a wrench in things. It couldn’t see any reason Nightmare would want it to associate good things with anyone but him. 

It was shaken out of its thoughts by the sound of Killer setting the bowl down on the floor. It was the usual fare, though something about it seemed… off.

“And the treat?”

“It’s in there.” He pointed at the bowl of slop. So the treat was a lie. 

It huffed, but settled on the floor and picked up the bowl to start eating anyway. Killer, similarly, took a seat at the kitchen table.

It couldn’t really refuse to eat, even if the meal served no purpose further than making it suffer. Nightmare would be less than happy to hear it wasn’t following one of His orders. Egotistical prick.

It tipped the bowl and resolutely ignored as much sensory data as it could. It was the same as always, but it couldn’t help but think Nightmare got it the most putrid smelling wet food he could find because he knew its sense of smell was strong. Unfortunately it had no nose to pinch, so it just tried not to breathe until it was done. 

It could feel Killer’s eyes burning into it as it finished. The gaze didn’t wander as it coughed and gagged, nor when it pushed the now empty bowl back in his general direction. What a creep— not as bad as Nightmare, but that would be impossible.

There was a slight, almost imperceptible, sweet after-taste. It didn’t believe Killer would actually put a treat in, so maybe it was a placebo. It didn’t have time to linger though, because Killer was already wrapping the end of the leash back around his clawed hands. And well… tiny sweet aftertaste didn’t make up for the fact that the rest of it tasted rancid.

“What would you do if you got out?” 

It took it a moment to realize it hadn’t imagined Killer speaking, and another to understand he was talking to it. 

“What?” Fresh hissed, eyes narrowed. The words just screamed ‘trap.’ It would make the rest of the day make more sense too; Killer could definitely be trying to influence it into disobedience with the treat and the extra emotion in his voice could be from the stress of the plan. 

He didn’t respond, just looking at it with his awful empty eye-sockets. It glared back, spines raising as he didn’t elaborate or back down.

Eventually, seeming to realize he wasn’t going to get anywhere unless he gave in more, Killer said, “He knows we all want out. Saying something to me can’t make this any worse with him.” There was a gentle tug on the leash, a silent continuation it could practically hear in the air ‘and not answering could make things worse with Killer.’ 

“I don’t know,” it grumbled, annoyed, “run off? Hide in a ditch? Go back to eating people? What do you want me to say.”

Its voice got scratchier and more rough as it spoke, leaving it to end the sentence coughing.

He just hummed, and it felt like tearing something apart with its teeth. Would it kill someone for these people to say what they thought aloud? Did they get some sort of sick thrill in leaving it confused? 

“Okay.” He finally said. If it wasn’t so frustrated with the lack of information it had, it would find that fascinating. What was that supposed to mean, ‘okay.’? He believed it? Got what he wanted? Just felt like saying that?

It stifled a growl and just followed him silently. 

——

It couldn’t stop thinking about the day before Killer took it here, to live with him and Color. Looking back, the signs that something strange was going on were so obvious. He was just digging for information on how it would act once he took it here— see if it would be a good gift for Color, it now knew.

The fact that he did, took that short and angry response and decided it was worth it to steal it away as a gift for his… for Color, it didn’t know how that made it feel.

Insulted, to be treated like a commodity to pass around, or… it shook its head, it couldn’t be thinking about this right now. Already it could hear the gentle knock at the door; Color, coming in for their morning routine and inviting it for breakfast. 

It did as it was bid, replying with polite little one-word answers to all his questions, ignoring how Killer was at Color’s heels. Not regarding them with suspicion like it wanted too. Clearly he was Color’s favorite— it couldn’t get on his bad side.

It kept trading glances with Killer as they made their way to the table, wondering why he decided to follow so closely to Color’s morning routine to even follow him to its room. They gave nothing away, of course, and it nearly stuck its tongue out in annoyance. Nearly, of course, because it still didn’t know these monsters’ preferences, no matter its best efforts. Nightmare would have found the brattiness cute [except the times he very much didn’t], but it couldn’t get a read if the same would hold true for Color— and Killer, but he wasn’t in charge, so it didn’t care for his response much.

The meal turned awkward when a question aimed at it, and that it thought it’d answered… not well, but good enough, was answered by Killer as well. Color hadn’t said he wanted Killer’s opinion.

It froze, carefully still as if that would make it turn invisible. It barely kept in the stressed squeak when Color berated Killer and they gave an absolutely lacklustre apology; Killer was valuable, liked, Color’s favourite, so of course he wouldn’t punish him, but what if Color decided to take out his anger on Fresh instead…?

There wasn’t any type of explosion though, and Color didn’t even seem particularly angry. Just a bit miffed at Killer’s actions. That was- that was just weird!

The emotion must have shown in its face, because Color was asking if it was confused. It felt stupid, but quickly hid anything negative before it could get too annoying.

A response was probably still expected though. It looked at Killer, who didn’t seem stressed at all, and it nervously asked, “You ain’t mad? That sorry was sooo off base.”

There was something so soft on its owner’s face, it felt a little sick looking. “No, no,” he cooed at it, like it was a skittish animal, “I love Killer, he’s my best friend- I just got a little annoyed is all. And even if I did get mad, we’d talk it out.”

That was… really weird. Best friend privileges maybe? It really couldn’t see a world so nice to it that that courtesy would extend to it as well. The information was still useful though, so it stashed it away.

It couldn’t focus on that right now though, remembering the actual focus of the conversation. He’d appreciate it keeping on topic, hopefully. “I do like colorful things- brighter the better,” It mumbled, eyes darting towards him nervously as it tried to gauge his reaction. Neutral still, so it flaked on some flattery, “The sweaters you let me borrow were pretty rad too…”

There it was, a wide satisfied smile. It relaxed as it heard his next words, “I’m glad to hear that,”

Thankfully, it didn’t have to navigate any mine-fields as breakfast was finished and Color told it all the rules for when he was out.

“You have free reign of the house, just don’t go into either me or Killer’s rooms without a good reason, yeah?” He reminded it. He always mentioned the free reign of the house everytime, and it could hear a hidden order when it was given one— it would be expected to not be in its room when he was out. An easy enough task.

After some painfully awkward farewells, it skittered off to the living room and to the couch in front of the TV. It knew it was probably allowed on the furniture, but didn’t really want to do so when Color wasn’t there to invite it on.

Instead, it carefully settled behind the couch, pressed in-between it and the wall. Small and comfortable, a perfect place to wait until Color got back. 

It smiled to itself, feeling proud of how well it had been doing recently. Maybe it could even get as much affection and leniency as Killer. Maybe it could even get more. A pipe-dream, but… it wanted Color to look at it like that too.

Only for its safety of course. Having his affection, his attention, his soft smiles, gentle laughs— it shook its head before settling more comfortably behind the couch. Now was not the time for those thoughts; it didn’t know how it was supposed to compete with Killer and… it already lived a life more pampered here than nearly all its time with Nightmare. 

It let itself relax and get ready for its long wait. It liked this. It didn’t need to sully it with even more wants.

[dragonsondragons]

Self Care - Jack Abbot x Resident!Reader

Summary: Jack’s new girlfriend takes self care really seriously given the line of work they’re in. He starts to observe these habits and some of them rub off on him.

Tags: Super fluffy, no use of y/n, implied age gap, suggested sexual activity, no real smut just Jack feeling you up a little, beekeeper!Jack

Author’s Note: Why am I obsessed with beekeeper!jack. There may be more where this came from because I had so much fun with this one– perhaps Jack and reader gardening (wink wink) while in their garden? Leads to sweet and slow stoned sex? Let me know what you think or if you have any requests! I’m always looking for more ideas. 

You do your little stretching routine after you wake up and you ask him if he wants to join you. He gives it a try, reluctantly at first. Then he starts to realize how good it makes him feel and does it with you every time. 

“What's this pep in your step you got going on here, brother?” Robby notices one day at hand-off. “Something to do with your favorite resident? Or should I say…new lady friend,” he does a little jazz hands.

“I regret ever telling you about us,” Jack rolls his eyes at lady friend. “But yeah, actually. She’s got me stretching when we wake up,” he explains.

“Ah. She’s got you whipped is what you mean.”

Jack chuckles under his breath. “Fuck off, stretching is good for you. And being whipped isn’t so bad either.” ____

You have a little garden that you tend to in the morning as the sun’s still rising right when you get off shift. It's cathartic, to take care of something that can't puke or bleed on you. Can’t punch you in the face. 

Both you and Jack had worked last night and it was a tough one. One of those nights where it felt like you lost more than you saved. You asked Jack to come back to your place after the shift ended, just wanting to be near him after your hell of a day. 

It was still early in your relationship, you had only spent the night at Jack’s place. This was his first time coming to stay at yours. 

You could tell he was so exhausted that you offered to drive home and he eventually accepted. He sat in the passenger seat of his Tacoma with his eyes closed as you drove, envisioning a shower, you looking soft in a ratty old t-shirt, and eating take out on the couch before going to sleep.

Instead, after you made two mugs of tea and set one before him on the coffee table, you headed to the backyard, slipping through the sliding glass door with a quiet “be right back, have to take care of some stuff real quick.”

After you’re gone more than 10 minutes and he almost dozed off twice, he started to wonder what this stuff was. He peeks out the glass door, seeing you knelt down at the edge of a garden bed peeling weeds out of the ground around your plants. The garden hose was on, filling up a big watering can to your left.

He comes to stand next to your kneeling form, placing a tender hand on the crown of your head and lightly running his fingers through your hair. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Checking on the plants. It helps me clear my mind from the day.” You smile softly up at him, see his free hand rub at his weary eyes. “Why don’t you go hop in the shower, I’ll be right in," you promise. He nods, turns to head back inside. 

He couldn’t believe you wanted to be pulling weeds and lugging watering cans after a shift. But when you trailed in a few minutes later, joining him under the spray of the water, he could see the way your shoulders were looser. You were more peaceful, at ease. It made him feel more calm too, just knowing you felt a little bit better. 

He started lugging bags of soil for you the following mornings. Dug up trenches to lay a new irrigation system for the crops. This time of spring brought so many birds tweeting around in the morning air, the perfect sound track to your calming moments together in the garden.

It was a peaceful endeavor, one Jack never thought he would find himself doing but turns out he absolutely loves it. After you tell him about the benefits of pollinators he really wants to start keeping bees (Jack Abbot is beekeeping age). He does all this research about it to make sure he doesn’t fuck with the bees, wants to do it right. Gets the whole mesh suit which you can't stop laughing at the first time he puts it on. Names his hive Beetopia. He's serious about these bees and you find it so endearing. You love that he's meshing into your life like this, making his own niche in something you both do together.

Sometimes when there isn’t much to be done he’ll make breakfast while you tend to the garden. He will always try to utilize the fruits and vegetables you grow as well as his self-harvested honey whenever he can. You eat it out on the patio, admiring the work the two of you have done. Your own little paradise. ____

Out of all the self care tactics that you have brought into his life, the bubble bath is definitely one of his sleeper favorites. His house had a huge bathtub in it that he never once used. One of the first times you stayed over, you went to use the bathroom before going to bed. His eyes were already closed when he heard you squeal in the en suite attached to his room. 

“How did you not tell me about this!” you yelled out to him. 

“What, the bathroom?” he responded half asleep and confused. You came back into the room and jumped into the bed next to him, resting your chin on his chest. He peeked his eyes open as he rubbed up and down your back.

“No! That massive tub, genius!” He was surprised. Hadn’t thought once about that thing since he moved in. 

“You like it?”

“I don't like it, Jack. I love it. Baths are so soothing and rejuvenating. I always feel like a newborn baby when I get out of the bath. And I don't have a tub at my place.”

“You’re welcome to use it anytime you want, honey.” He shifted you to your side, cuddling into you and kissing your cheek. 

“You’re too good to me. And as a reward I’m making you get in there with me.” he lets out a breath of a laugh as he drifts off to sleep with you in his arms. ___

You both had the next day off, for once. So there was no time like the present to christen Jack’s bathtub. He was nervous about getting in, not being able to wear his prosthetic to keep him stable, but you got in first and held onto him tight as he stepped over the edge and eased himself down into the water. You settled in front of him, letting out a breath as you melted back into him. 

You thought you liked baths already, but this was pure bliss. His strong body against you, your breaths synching up. He washed your hair and you washed his. The warm water soothed his achy back and the overcompensating muscles in his leg. 

Safe to say, baths become a regular occurrence for you two.

You get him a matching fluffy robe with a hood because one time he said he was jealous of how cozy you looked in yours after a bath. Once, Shen stopped by to drop off the butterfly portable ultrasound that he had borrowed and Jack answered the door in said robe. 

Jack had his stoic work face on, the grumpiness only enhanced by the fact that Shen’s visit was interrupting his time with you.

“Ha, you look like a Sith, Abbot,” Shen teased him, butterfly in one hand and a half drank Dunkin’ in the other. “Robe’d up and about to cut my hand off.” He took a loud sip of his coffee as Jack just glared at him. 

“Get out of here before I actually consider it.” He tugged the Butterfly from Shen’s grasp, about to slam the door in his face. 

“Oh c'mon Jack, that’s not very nice.” You ran up to the door and opened it further to reveal yourself. 

“Sorry John, he didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah right.” He takes in your appearance beside Jack, wearing the same exact fuzzy robe. “Like the matchy matchy, very cute you two.” Shen pulls out his phone and snaps a picture before either of you could even process it. “That’s totally going in the group chat, dude,” he laughed. 

“Not making a good case for yourself here,” Jack muttered. Shen couldnt stop laughing, and at that you moved your hand off the door jamb and let Jack slam it shut. 

He turned to you then and let out a little chuckle at the whole ordeal. “He’s a piece of work.”

“Thought he was your favorite resident?”

“No, you're my favorite resident.” ___

Besides stretching to start the day on a good note, taking soothing baths, and tending to your garden you also do yoga sometimes to turn your mind off and tune into your body after a hectic shift. He’s still reluctant to try that one, and likes to give you your space to do the things you enjoy on your own sometimes. So he doesn't join you for that, but he loves watching you as you get ready to head to the studio. 

You always wear these skin tight, colorful matching workout sets that drive him crazy. He doesn’t mean to keep you from getting to class, but sometimes he just can’t help the temptation.

“Baby,” he draws it out in a long groan. He crossed the room to you, grabbing your hips and ghosting his hands up and down, reverently. You were trying to gather your keys and yoga mat to head out the door. “You’re killing me here with the powder blue.” The leggings hugged your ass just right. God, he was about to start drooling.

You try to squirm out of his hold to put your shoes on, but he won't budge. “Get a good look, Jack, because I gotta go. Gonna be late if I don't leave right now.” 

“Oh no, you're gonna be late already? Maybe you should just stay here with me,” he pouts suggestively. 

“Already paid for the class. Actually you did, your card’s on the account.” With your resident salary, Jack liked to treat you to things like a membership to a fancy yoga studio with free green smoothies. He loved ‘providing’ for you, even though you both knew you could be just fine by yourself. 

“Even better. I don't care about losing 30 bucks right now. Because you look way too sexy in those leggings to leave me here all alone.” He pecks your lips, then down your neck, sucking the spot where he knows will draw out a moan from you. You grasp your hand into his hair, getting lost in his efforts to entice you. 

“Let me peel these off of you,” he begs, running his fingers under the waistband of the leggings. His hands travel lower, kneading at your ass and pulling you tighter against him. “Just let me worship your beautiful body, sweetheart.”

How could you say no to that? Maybe you would miss your class, but this was a form of self care as good as any.

[sophrosyncc]

— can't stop thinking of you !

warnings/tags : SFW, yearning, gender-neutral reader, 3.2 exploration spoilers (memory fragment)

author's note : was feeling very romantic so I quickly whipped up something for our amphoreus professor. huge thanks to my pillow who helped me imagine the scenes better

art credits : official commission from honkai: star rail by the artist luminos!

word count : 652

when you called anaxa dear for the first time, you didn't even notice how naturally it slipped out of your tongue.

it was another night of lounging in his private laboratory, relaxing on the couch he recently moved there to host guests, a weak excuse to hide that it was only for you. the two of you were far too used to this routine, staying in each other's personal spaces like it was second nature, drawn to his presence like he was with you.

magnets. a word hyacine often used to describe the two of you.

you think it fits well.

"so, who was chasing you this time?" you question, threading your fingers through his hair. it brought a feeling of contentment to see anaxa relax on your lap. a rare moment of peace in his hectic and fast-paced life, a direct contrast to yours. "fools? guards from the council of elders?"

the sage and founder of the nousporists wasn't someone the majority would consider normal. a heretic, fool, blasphemous scholar— these were all variations of multiple titles the public call him. even his most dedicated students couldn't keep up with every bad mouthed nickname bestowed upon their professor.

ten? fifty? one hundred?

none of you knew the answer to that, including the man himself. someone who didn't even care about such trivial matters in the first place.

anaxa sighs. "fools," he dryly replies, tilting his head to further lean into your touch. you resist the urge to coo or compare him to a cat silently asking for more affection. "they wanted to publicly execute me this time. I had to bring my lecture to dawncloud instead."

"dawncloud?" your eyebrows raise in surprise.

that was very far from the grove of epiphany. too far. it would take a day to get there on foot.

the place was all the way in okhema where aglaea and castorice were stationed, constantly monitored by the golden threads he disliked so much. not to mention, a good amount of people there openly shared their distaste about him. how much of a disturbance were they that even his 'teaching tool' couldn't scare them off?

without knowing it, you stop rubbing his scalp, lost in thought.

anaxa opens his eye. he peers up at you questioningly, wondering why you suddenly stopped. until he sees that familiar dip between your eyebrows, lips pursed into a thin line, a tinge of barely hidden concern written all over your face.

he nudges your hand with his head.

you don't budge.

he tries it again.

nothing happens.

a quiet grumble leaves his lips.

"why did you stop?" he finally asks, snapping you out of your own bubble of thought. "there's no need to worry about me. the chances of ica reaching apotheosis are far more greater than the success of their threats."

you blink.

hyacine's pegasus turning into a titan?

with a soft laugh, you continue combing his hair. "...that's ridiculous."

"it worked, didn't it?" anaxa smoothly responds. he inclines his head back, sighing as your fingers make their way down to his nape, lightly scratching his skin. even with his eyepatch covering half of his face, you could see the slightest of smiles from the corner of his lip.

for all the nonchalance he seemed to carry with him in front of other people, he didn't hesitate to lower his guard around you.

the same feeling of warmth settled in your chest again, content to stay like this forever.

you lean down. pressing your forehead against his, breathing in the familiar smell that belonged to him, you whisper. "thank you, dear."

he pauses, followed by a sharp exhale. "...it's nothing."

pulling away, you take the time in the peaceful moment to admire him. when you brush the strands of hair away from his forehead to get a clearer view, your heart skips a beat at the sight.

his ears were red.

[milomelts]

Rooftop High

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader (she/her/fab)

Word Count: 2k just a quickie

Warnings: 18+, weed, car accident detailed (but nothing like gore-y cuz ew), age gap 🤭

Note: just a little something fun while i finish other requests and stuff lol

————————————

Today was shit. There was no other way to describe it. No “look at the bright side” or “finding joy in the little things”, just an absolute disaster. There had been a massive crash and pile up of cars on the interstate, a semi-truck had flipped over just on the other side of a hill, in turn causing dozens of cars to crash into him as they couldn’t see him till it was too late -and then more cars crashed into the crashed cars.

You weren’t even sure how many people you had seen come through, but it was the waves in which they came that was particularly brutal. First wave was almost all causalities, or people with less than an hour left, those who had slammed into the semi right when it flipped. Then there was people who crashed into the immediate cars, not as badly hurt intially, but then the semi had caught fire meaning several of them then came with burn wounds. Then finally the third wave, people who had narrowly missed crashing or were able to slightly break before crashing, consisting of mostly surface wounds. Shattered glass in hands, whiplash, pretty much standard accident injures.

By that time however, it was three hours past when your shift was supposed to end, and you were far too tired to even try to shake off the horrors you had seen. There were other ways to forget though. After listening to Robby’s “at least we did it” speech, you finished handing off your tablet to one of the nightshift residents and your feet were hitting the stairwell before you crashed from fatigue.

The last time you had come up here had been a similar day, a rather rough night shift that had you seeing ghosts, sometimes you just needed to chill on the roof to be able to leave work at work -and by chill on the roof, you really mean smoke enough weed that by the time you’re leaving all you can think about is snacks and a drink instead of death. Maybe you needed a better coping mechanism. Maybe.

You scanned in and threw open the door to the roof, letting your eyes close as you finally took a breath, listening to the peaceful quiet as the door clicked closed behind you. Your eyes flutter open and you go to take a step but your eyes catch on a certain someone. A certain someone who was in your spot, and looking right at you.

“Hey,” Abbot’s voice fits right in with the peaceful night air. He had come in the help, despite having the night off, and you couldn’t deny that his help made things run hell of a lot smoother.

“Shit, sorry!” You stutter out as he continues to just stare right through you. It wasn’t like it was the first time you both had been on the roof at the same time, but you had always caught the door and ran away before it had time to close before. “I can go!”

“No!” His voice goes high for just a second, clearing his throat and patting the ground next to him while giving you a soft smile. “Plenty of space and I could use the company.”

You fight against the pit in your stomach telling your legs to run and instead move to sit next to him on the ledge. Part of you always thought it was rather humorous that there were rails up here because they were so easy to go around, you weren’t sure anyone ever really stayed behind them. You settle into the space beside him, careful to not sit too close, but your knees brush his as you cross your legs and tuck your bag beside you. As much as you enjoyed the night air, you would enjoy it a hell of a lot more with your before mentioned plans.

“Uhm, do you mind if I smoke?” you voice is meek, meeting Abbot’s eyes and he scoffs at the ask.

“Cigarettes are bad for your health you know?” He teases, eyes filling with a playful glimmer.

“Oh nobody said anything bout cigarettes,” you retort. Scrambling through your bag you quickly find your pre-rolled blunt, digging around the various wrappers till your fingers finally landed on your hot pink lighter.

Abbot lets out a low whistle when his eyes catch the contents of your bag, almost like a disapproving parent, but the giddy smile that still lingers on his face tells you he doesn’t actually mind -and more importantly has no intention of snitching on you.

You light the end of the blunt, letting it burn for a second as you breath in your hit. It burns at the back of your throat and deep in your lungs, probably shouldve brought a water up with you, but it was much too late for that.

You try to make some casual conversation, avoiding talking about the crash, but still asking him about how his day was before work. Conversation always seemed to flow so easy with him, like he completely understood and knew all the things you were feeling, probably because he was much older and had experienced everything you were feeling. “An experienced man to take care of you”, Dana would always tease when you brought up your crush on him.

You tried to ignore the way Abbot’s eyes lingered on you, tracing up and down your body, following the blunt as you brought it up to your lips again, and then catching your eyes as you breathed out.

“Do you wanna hit?” you offer, resting your head on your knees as you look over at him. You can tell he’s considering it by the way he keeps flittering back and forth between your eyes and the blunt, but you dont wanna push anything.

“I’ve never really, uhm, really done something like that,” He rushes out, rambling on about how he’s smoked before, but maybe he was too old-fashioned for the things kids are into now days.

“Alright old man,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him when he gently pushes your shoulder laughing with you. You could feel the effects already flooding your system and relaxing you before you could even stop yourself your voice is speaking for you, “We could shotgun?”

You dont know where the bold statement had come from, but when Abbot leans in closer you cant help the blush that rises to your cheeks.

“What do I need to do,” he murmurs, face inches from yours as he scoots closer and you turn to face him. He’s sitting with his legs spread flat against the ground, and he tugs you closer pulling your legs overtop his thighs and around his waist till you’re practically seated in his lap and eagerly waits for your next instruction.

“All you gotta do is breathe okay?” He nods in response, waiting for you to bring the blunt up to your lips again.

You bring the lighter up, hands shaking as you try to re-spark the flame. It feels like the world was practically tilting at this point, how did you get here? Abbot gently cups his hands around yours and your eyes snap up to him. He nods to you, taking the lighter and lighting the blunt for you as you take another deep hit, letting the smoke collect in your mouth and lungs before moving close to him again.

He parts his lips, eyes catching yours as you breathe the smoke into his. His hands travel up your arms causing you to shudder as they trace back and forth along your shoulders.

“Can I try?” His voice is hoarse as his fingers prod at the blunt in your hand, gingerly taking it between his two fingers and you let him, watching him bring it up to his lips. He takes a deep breath, hazel eyes never breaking from yours as he drops the last of the blunt to the ground and pulls you in with both his hands cradling your face. You gasp as he tugs you to fully sit on his lap, quickly blowing the smoke out into your mouth as you greedily inhale it.

Before you get the chance to pull back his hands pull you in closer, lips locking with yours as you both moan into the kiss, your hands coming up to tangle with his greying curls. It’s all so dizzying, the weed, the frantic kisses, the way Abbot holds onto you like if he lets go he’ll lose you. He’s got his hands on your hips, rolling you over his hard on again and again as his tongue slips into your mouth, eager to tie itself up with yours causing you to let out a high pitched whine.

“Jack,” you whimper out his name and he pulls back for just a moment to make eye contact with you. His pupils are blown wide and he’s panting, your fingers trail down from his hair and land on either side of his face pulling him back into another searing kiss.

“I’ve seen how you look at me,” his accusation causes you to whimper, bucking your hips against his as he trails kisses down your jaw and neck, hushed voice ringing in your ear, “Heard what you’ve said to the others about me.”

“What’s that?” Your voice comes out broken, breath hitching as he sucks and bites into the crook of your neck.

“Oh you know,” He murmurs, hands pulling your hips to roll against him again and again, until he’s locking eyes with you again. “Something about needing an older man to fuck you right.”

The cocky smirk thats plastered against his face should not be as hot as it is, but you can’t help but nod, admitting that you did want this as bad as he thought. He snakes a hand down into your scrub pants, a groan ripping through him when he’s feels how wet you are for him. You roll your hips against his hand, writhing as his fingers work against your clit rubbing in quick figure eights as he grinds his cock up against you.

“Fuck, Jack please,” You beg, trying to somehow get even closer to him. He pulls his fingers out, wrapping his lips around them and moaning at the taste of you causing you to whimper as you hold eye contact with him. He pulls you flush against him, both hot and sticky as he desperately ruts against you and you against him. Your fingers drag underneath his shirt along his back and he tugs at the hair at the base of your skull, holding you tightly as you both grind against one another.

“Cum for me baby,” His voice is strained, almost whining, and from the way his hips stutter you can tell he’s close. “Be a good girl.”

You throw your head back, the thread within you snapping as his spits on his fingers and brings them back down to your clit, dragging fast circles around and around. He’s holding you up at this point, body relaxing against his as you lazily kiss at his neck drooling while your orgasm rakes through you.

You can feel his hard on press against your over-sensitive core once, twice more before his hips are stuttering and Abbot’s cumming in his cargo pants, streaming out whiney praises about how good you were for him and how pretty you were as you came. His breath slowly comes down and he presses his head against yours, soft kisses placed against your temple and you whine as he pulls his fingers away from your quivering pussy.

He lays back on the roof, pulling you down with him as he cards fingers through your hair. You two stay like that for a while, just breathing and looking at the stars, a wave of comfort washing over both of you. He felt like maybe the comfort he had found in the dark was actually from you all along. He could actually just stay here and go to sleep-

“Who did you hear that from?” Your voice breaks him from his peaceful trance and his eyes flitter down to yours, watching the lazy smile crack across your face as you break out into a fit of giggles.

“I cannot give up my informant,” he chuckles as you dramatically sigh, laying back down for just a split second before your back up again. With the amount of energy you had compared to him, he just knew you were gonna be a handful.

“Okay, but was it Dana because I swear to god-“

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Beep Cute | Steve Rogers x Reader | Oneshot - 1.1k words

When some ass on a motorbike splashes you, leaving your sandwich and coffee on the sidewalk, you decide to follow them and give them a piece of your mind.

Warnings: language, angry meet-cute, reader is described as shorter than Steve. Fluffy nonsense 🥰

Divider by @firefly-graphics

For @avengers-assemble-bingo Spring Bingo "floral decorations"

Masterlist | Steve Rogers | Spring Bingo

As if your day couldn’t get any worse, it rained. Not the kind of autumnal drizzle that accompanied most days since you moved to New York, but torrential, fierce, bullets of rain that pounded on your flimsy umbrella and soaked you from your toes up. At least you had a warm sandwich and a huge coffee to console yourself with when you got back to your apartment. It was this thought that had you losing focus as you strayed too close to the road and the growing puddles that lined each street corner, forming ponds on the crossings and reflecting the angry, grey sky back up at itself. 

A horn blared, shocking you from your thoughts half a second before a tidal wave of murky, puddle water soaked you from the neck down. 

“What the fuck!” You shouted, eyeing the motorbike as it sped down the road, dodging between the traffic. Your coffee lay at your feet, mixing with the equally dark water pooling around your shoes. The carefully prepared and wrapped sandwich hadn’t fared any better, the deli paper now soggy and falling apart. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!!!” You fumed, squeezing your eyes tight to stop your tears from falling. You wouldn’t cry, but you would get even. 

The motorbike stopped at the lights, giving you a chance to catch up, before turning a corner and making its way into an underground garage. Whoever was riding was big, a soft looking brown leather jacket stretched across their shoulders, maybe too big to be challenge? But one thought of the delicious sandwich, now a soggy mess on the floor, gave you the courage to continue your pursuit. 

Rounding the side of the building you found the entrance, huge glass and steel walls towered over the grand atrium, probably some bank or something, especially considering the mass of people swarming in at this time. It took a while for you to get in, but as soon as you did you wondered how you were even going to find this person amid the crowds. 

 You contemplated asking at the front desk, it was decorated in a spray of spring flowers, bunnies, eggs, daffodils and tulips that were a contrast to the various groups dressed in odd, all black, military uniforms that milled around the elevators.

You joined the queue of other visitors, watching the animations of bunnies hopping along the crisp white reception desk among blooming flowers and fluttering grass. How ridiculously ostentatious. Who even watered the flowers? How much had all this nonsense cost just for the identikit staff to walk past without evening noticing.

But before you could reach the front of the queue the lift opened revealing a familiar looking leather jacket. Now in dry jeans and trainers, but still with damp hair. 

“Hey!” You shouted again, this time the man looked up, his blonde hair falling in front of his face briefly before he could swipe the wet locks back with his hands. 

“Hi!” He said cheerily, holding his hand out, “always nice to meet fans, I can’t stop though.” He smiled in a strange way, both friendly and cold, as if this wasn’t quite his real smile but something practised and placed. 

“I’m not a fan, quite the fucking opposite.” You brushed his hand back and he bristled briefly, taking on a wider stance and glancing at the small group he had left to speak to you. 

“Can I help you, Ma’am?” 

“Yes, you fucking can. First I want an apology-” 

“An apology?” 

“Yes! For splashing me so rudely and knocking my lunch out of my hands and then, and then -” your anger was catching up with you, winding you as you tried to stare down the man towering above you, but it was difficult given your wet hair and several inches of height he had over you. “— then you owe me for my lunch, by the way, which I was really looking forward to.”

“I’m so sorry, ma’am, I had no idea I’d stopped you from having your food, what if I-” 

“Is that it? What gives you the fucking right to behave like that, what if I didn’t find you? Huh? Would you still say sorry? No, probably not. You city boys, you’re all the same, so rude.” 

The man smiled again, not the calculated toothless grimace he’d attempted early, but a wide smile, then he laughed. 

"City boys?"

"You know what I mean, bankers, hedge funder-ers — whatever you're called."

“Bankers?” He was holding back a laugh very unsuccessfully.

“Yes, bankers, all so rude and, and, and, privileged!” 

“You think this is a bank?” 

“Yes…” Suddenly you weren’t sure, was it a bank? You looked around again, noticing the Stark logo on one of the lifts in the corner, the other lifts had a large 'A' with an a-symetrical tail and…fuck. Oh, fuck, this wasn’t a bank at all. “Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

“This is Avengers tower?” 

“Yes.” The man nodded and, oh shit, now you looked properly, not just any man. Steve fucking Rogers, Captain America. You looked around, the rest of the reception area had already gone quiet to watch your interaction and you’d be damned if you backed down now. America’s golden boy or not, he’d been rude and you wanted your compensation. 

“That’s even worse!” 

He smiled again, pulling you by the elbow, scanning a security pass quickly and closing the door behind you. 

“You can’t kidnap me!” Although you wanted to sound firm and authoritative, it came out as more of a shriek. “Let me go!” 

“Hey, hey.” Steve held his hands up, spreading them wider than his shoulders and stepping back, “I just didn’t want you all over the papers or something.” 

Through your heavy breaths you managed to calm down, looking him over again. He really didn’t seem to want to hurt you and, now the initial shock of the situation had worn off, he also looked very, very sorry. 

“I really didn’t mean to splash you, or make you lose your lunch. Please let me make it up to you?” He offered, lowering his hands slowly. 

“How?” 

“Well…We’ve got spare clothes here, you can have them, whoever your favourite Avenger is, there’s sweatpants and sweaters, whatever you want, you can have it, and then when you’re dry, please let me take you to lunch.” 

“You want to take me to lunch?” You raised an eyebrow, “not just give me some Avengers cheque? Me and you, lunch?” 

“Only if you want to.” Steve let his smile soften, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t want to put any pressure on you, I just thought…well, it could be fun?”

“It could be fun,” You agreed, allowing yourself a small smile too. 

“Great, lets get you some clean clothes.” Steve bounced towards the door again, holding his hand out for you to follow, “who’s your favourite Avenger?” He asked, looking hopefully. 

“Oh, uhm… Thor?” 

“Thor!?” 

Steve’s face dropped and you laughed, taking his hand.

[ffrostedfflakies]

Office Affairs

Office! AU In which Coworker! Nanami realises that you are more than just an annoying colleague. Wc: 630

You didn't even want this job. An office, stuck at a desk job, was just NOT for you. However, there was one major benefit when it came to this job.

That being: your co-worker, Nanami.

Your Coworker! Nanami, who keeps to himself most of the time, bar from his select group of friends whom he's known since highschool.

He always leaves at the same time everyday: 7pm, refusing to stay for any overtime whatsoever.

Every day, you would go to Nanami's office just to talk to him and tell him about your daily affairs, your cat Pingu, who always caused trouble, and even your crazy neighbours, who always argued about the m ost insane things.

You would even wait for him every day after work just to walk to the train station together.

Nanami doesn't really seem to acknowledge you most of the time, mainly being engrossed in his work and his thoughts as he usually is. But he doesn't tell you to get the fuck out so you guess that's a bonus.

You, one day finally built up the courage to ask him out on a lunch date.

He promptly declined.

You face falls at the rejection and you slowly start to pull away. Maybe out of sheer embarrassment, you don't know. But you stopped waiting for him after work, you stopped coming to his office to tell him about your day., you even stopped telling him about your crazy cat and neighbours.

No more you.

Nanami doesn't know how how to feel about you pulling away. (He does, he just doesn't want to admit it.)

He missed your rants, your random tidbits about your day, or even about your cat (he would love to meet her)

So, he decided to ask you out on a lunch date. Much like you had done previously.

Whilst you were working, Nanami approached your desk one day smiling softly at your face, that was focused (or what seemed like it) on your computer.

You look up, bewildered at the shadow looming over you to see Nanami smiling back at you.

"Hello y/n, I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to lunch in the cafeteria? I hope I'm not disturbing you."

You stare blankly for a second before snapping out of your reverie.

"What-what? You want to go out with me? Why? I thought you weren't interested considering last time I asked." You respond.

"That was..out of character for me. If you can believe it I regretted what I said as soon as I had said it. I apologise. As much as it doesn't excuse it, I was feeling overwhelmed that day and I took it out on you." He pauses "I still really want to know what happened with Pingu this time, if you'll tell me."

"Oh. My. God you'll never believe what that little demon did right before I was going to leave for work-wait." You freeze. "Don't distract me I'm still a little pissed off!"

"Well, would you then allow me to make up for my mistake by going to lunch with me?" Nanami proposes.

You leer at him slightly before nodding your head.

As the two of you walk together to the cafeteria you begin to get a little curious. "What changed Nanami? You genuinely seemed disinterested in literally anything I had to say?" you ask.

"Well," he sighs deeply, "I think I just missed you as a person. Just your overall presence made my day a little better. I just wasn't showing it well enough," He admits sheepishly.

"Oh? So is this your way of winning me over now? With dinner dates?" you answered.

"Of course" he stops and turns to you,

"I have plenty of opportunities to woo you now, don't I?"

A/N: I had an original draft that I absolutely loved and then I LOSTTTTT it so now I have this version that I lowkey don't like :(

Feel free to like comment and reblog!

[lostwysteria]

(Part 11. Yesterday was rough. In more ways than one. My main manager on duty was in a snit all day and we were slammed. Today might be worse. your comments and asks really kill me, tho. And enable me terribly. (And give me ideas.) Your tags are amazing as well. Omg)

Masterlist

Nice felt absolute bliss as he held his long time love and his new love at the same time. He had fallen so fast for Lin Ling. As fast as he had for Wreck. He never knew he could hold so much love in his heart. It was almost painful.

He would tear down Hero Tower itself if he couldn't keep the two in his arms with him.

…

“At least you brought home food.” Moon griped before stuffing her face with pasta. Nice was, well, nice enough to let her finish the spaghetti they brought with them from the night before. If he was lucky it was the last bit of his Ling’s cooking she would be having for a looooong while.

“Do me a favor and try your teleportation now. Test out if my plan worked.” Nice demanded.

Moon did so eagerly as all three men watched from the couch.

It worked. Moon opened a portal to a beach. 

“!!!!” She screamed wordlessly.

“Congrats!” Ling clapped joyfully. Nice pumped a fist in celebration. Wreck just gave her a thumbs up. 

“Oh. Let me help you pack. Where are you going first?. Do we have sunscreen for you? Bug spray? Let's find you some plane tickets. I’d feel better if you took things slow for your first trip.” Homemaker fretted. He’d been knocked fully into hero mode. One of his charges was leaving the nest. He’d gained the mental thread to her over the week as well. The thought that she was leaving was making him anxious. “You have to visit at least every season!” He told her seriously. Four months was the longest he could be separated from a permanent charge before their linking thread broke.

“I will! I’ll bring souvenirs!” She agreed happily.

Moon’s tablet beeped. She checked it. She then squealed. “I am still contracted with Treeman, but I can be a Wandering Hero. I still have a job! Oh. This is the best!”

…

Kira @cantstopwontstop

Nice bringing his men home.

*A pic of Nice landing in front of Hero Tower with Homemaker in his arms and Wreck on his back*

…

“Hey. Take care of them, yeah?” Moon half asked as Nice watched her pack.

“Isn't that a given, you gremlin?”

“Yeah. As much as I despise you, I’ll also kind of miss you, you Ken Doll.”

“Shut up. Me too.” He huffed.

“No you won't. You’ll be too busy trying to make babies with your new wife and your husband.” She teased. 

Nice stiffened. His face turned tomato red and a trickle of blood came out of his nose. Moon stared.

“Oh my god. Go away you perverted freak.” She choked out in a strangled whisper screech.

He flew to the bathroom at mach speed. 

Moon stared at her hands again and thought of the power she had as a Trusted fanfic author. “Omg.” She muttered, hysterical.

…

Moon left that night. Nice was down in the offices arguing with Miss. J over maybe setting up a ‘redemption arc’ for Wreck. Nice was obviously sick of shit and was now standing up for what he wanted. And he wanted Wreck to be by his side along with Homemaker. 

Ling was puttering around, placing little knick knacks on the new shelves he finished putting together and watering the new house plants. He was determined to make the place more cozy in a way that didn't set off Nice’s OCD. Wreck was at the piano playing a rambling melody.

It was very domestic and peaceful. Once he was done with his task Ling set down and started crocheting. He was making a light blue blanket. It was a domestic task that settled the buzzing need to do something under his skin. That was the drawback to his abilities. That overwhelming need to do domestic tasks and to care for others. 

It had only gotten stronger. He had hit rank 320. 180 ranks in a week. He was buzzing with new power. His abilities were much stronger now. As was the need. It would take a bit to get used to. 

“Thank you.” Wreck said as the melody shifted to a nice slow jazz.

“For what?” Ling asked as he added a colored row marker to the end of the blanket. It was a habit, really. He knew exactly what row he was on.

“For being there for him when I couldn't. He’s so much happier already. There's life in his eyes again.” 

“You don't have to thank me for that.” He told Wreck softly. 

“Yeah. I do.”