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steddielations · 1 year

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It's just another boring day running the store, even more boring than normal since Robin’s out sick. There’s not any kids around either, the beanbags by the bookshelves have been empty all day.

Steve’s working his shift alone. It’s all very mundane, just waiting for the clock to run out. That is, until the door flies open.

It’s just a flash of black clothing and the clinking of metal accessories as the figure suddenly barrels right over the counter. Steve shouts and immediately reaches for the nail bat— yes the nail bat— he keeps behind the register. He brandishes it menacingly as the person stands upright.

It’s a man, with crazy wild hair and even crazier eyes, widening comically at the bat and holding his hands up. He squawks at Steve.

“Whoa, hey! What is that thing?! What the hell, man!?”

“Don’t ‘what the hell’ me, I’m the one what the helling you here!” Steve snaps back.

“What!”

“Just tell me what you think you’re doing here, punk!”

Something like disbelief comes over his face, and he lowers his hands to gesture over himself, “Dude, I’m clearly a metalhead.”

“I’m gonna put some metal in your head if you don’t start talking,” Steve snarls, gripping the bat tighter.

“Okay, okay!” His hands flail, shifty eyes bugging out the front windows before he suddenly crouches down behind the counter, “Just let me hide out here for a minute, there’s— people after me that I can’t deal with right now.”

“Oh yeah, what 'people’?” Steve narrows his eyes at the expensive looking chain dangling around his neck, some kind of red pendant on it, “Did you get caught stealing from the jewelry store next door?”

Again, he gives that look, not the typical guilty look when Steve chases down the usual petty thief, he just looks like he can’t believe he’s in this situation, as if he’s not the one that hopped over the counter.

“I didn’t steal anything, alright? I just need to wait here until it’s all clear.”

“Mr. Simon is chasing you, isn’t he?” Steve groans, lowering the bat to rub his hand over his face. He hates that old jeweler, always complaining about Steve taking his parking space when he doesn’t even have a car to use it. “Christ, okay. He might have a war flashback and actually kill you, and I already have enough shit on my conscience. You got two minutes.”

“Five?”

“One and a half.”

“Okay, Jesus. Two please and I’ll let you have a picture after, whatever you want.”

Steve thinks it’s a weird thing to offer at first, then it clicks.

“Yeah, I do want a picture ‘cause your ass is going on the banned wall,” Steve points the bat to the array of photos on the back wall, right up there with the little pricks that kept asking what shelf the skin mags were on, and the asshole that was rude to Robin once.

The guy looks over and he… chuckles, “Starting to think I picked the wrong counter to hide behind.”

Steve glares when he’s met with the stranger’s smile, “You think?”

“The rainbows in the window caught my eye, thought they were pretty cool,” he gives Steve a kind, but measured look, “I’m assuming the bat is for people who don’t?”

That rocks Steve a little. The subtle touches of rainbow decorating the storefront were Robin’s idea, just a welcoming sign for those who know what it means, who need it. Which, apparently, is this guy too, dark eyes watching as Steve makes the connection.

Plus, the kind of kids that get off the bus and hang out in the beanbag corner of the bookstore, also tend to be the type that bullies flock to, but not here, Steve makes sure of that. Not with the nail bat, that’s for things more serious than school bullies.

“Is that who’s after you?” Steve asks, shooting a look out the window. His gut starts to twist in some form of empathy for the guy, it would make sense why he hurtled inside so quickly.

“No, nothing like that, but I still need to lay low for a second.”

Steve squints, empathy gone.

“Okay well, the bat is for thieves too, then. You know, Mr. Simon might be a mean old shit, but he doesn’t deserve to be stolen from. He’s got a family, dude.”

“Well, isn’t that admirable. Look, I appreciate what you’re doing here, the whole local protector, vigilante bat-man thing, it’s pretty badass,” A pun. This would-be thief really just made a damn pun about Steve’s would-be murder weapon. “But I didn’t take anything from anyone, Stevie boy.”

Pun forgotten, Steve grips the bat tighter, demanding to know, “How do you know my name?”

Another annoying smile as the guy gestures to his chest, where Steve’s name tag is. Right.

“Tell me yours,” he counters, noticing how the guy’s smile falters, looking hesitant, crouching lower, hiding. Steve sighs, “I’m not gonna go to the cops, man. Your face is going on the wall and your name is going on the list.”

This guy is just smirking way too much for someone in his situation, “Wow, I must be real special then. It’s Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

“Okay then, Munson,” Steve narrows his eyes at the necklace again, “If you didn’t take anything, then where’d you get that chain, huh?”

This Eddie looks caught off guard, his mouth already formed into some excuse that Steve cuts off.

“Just hand it over,” he flourishes the bat this time, satisfied with how Eddie looks both impressed and intimidated. His eyes stay on Steve as he removes the necklace, dark and alive with something, like he’s enjoying this somehow.

“Okay fine, easy with that thing, big boy. You can keep it for now as collateral for letting me stay.”

He passes Steve the chain, and Steve doesn’t want to fuss with his jean pockets so he just slips it over his head, Eddie’s eyes tracking where it falls around his neck. He sees it’s not a pendant like he thought, it’s a red guitar pick resting against his chest. Not Simon’s usual merchandise, but the chain definitely is, it’s expensive, Steve can tell.

“But, as good as it looks on you, I’m gonna need it back when you realize it’s not stolen.”

Annoyance. That’s the flare of heat Steve feels, it has to be, this whole exchange is getting him hot under the collar. He obviously knows Eddie’s hitting on him, not the first time he caught someone up to no good, and they clocked the rainbows and tried to flirt their way out of it. And this guy isn’t bad looking, maybe under different circumstances in a nice bar somewhere, Steve would flirt right back, but he’s not falling for it now.

He’s glad the couple minutes are up, doesn’t know why he checks out the windows to make sure it’s all clear for Eddie.

Bat still in hand, he makes Eddie stand while he fishes out the polaroid camera behind the counter.

“Don’t you want to get in the photo?” Eddie asks.

Steve’s free hand snaps to his hip, “And why would I want that?”

“Right,” Eddie grins, sticking out his tongue when Steve holds up the camera, throwing up that same hand sign that Dustin keeps making nowadays when the flash goes off. “No fun kissin’ a picture of yourself. Or, maybe it is when you look like you do.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Playing cute with me isn’t gonna get you off the hook,” and sits the newly printed polaroid on the counter, ignoring the way his cheeks feel hot. It’s just the adrenaline coming down.

He finally puts the bat away, still watching warily as Eddie comes closer, picking up a pen and scribbling what looks to be his phone number on the photo.

“Gotta say, this was nice, Steve. I’d love to do it again sometime,” he smirks, hopping back over the counter the same way he came, “I mean it though, give me a call about that necklace. What kinda rockstar would I be without my lucky guitar pick?”

“Yeah right,” Steve snorts, “I don’t wanna catch you around here again. I never forget a face, Munson, especially not yours.”

“I’m flattered,” he pats his hand over his heart, then throws Steve a wave as he pushes open the door, “Keep that up and you can call me anytime.”

One last wink that sort of makes Steve’s chest flutter and he’s gone. It’s nothing, just some crazy guy that annoyed him half to death, and he hopes he never sees again.

When his shift ends later that evening, he goes next door to try and return the necklace to Mr. Simon, but he insists that it wasn’t stolen from his shop.

Steve’s starting to think he may have accidentally robbed someone at nail-bat-point. But it’s not possible because that’s not possible. How do you accidentally rob someone? What crime would he even be charged with? A little oopsie burglary? Ridiculous.

No, the old man is just out of his mind and doesn’t recognize his own shit. It’s the only thing that would make sense in that whole bizarre situation. Who else would Eddie have been ‘hiding’ from? Why else was it so urgent that he handed over the necklace without much fuss?

It’s not until days later when Dustin hops onto the counter that Steve really realizes.

“Steve,” Dustin says slowly, “Why am I looking at a picture of Eddie freaking Munson on the banned wall?”

Steve looks around, “That guy? You know him? I caught him stealing from Mr. Simon the other day.”

“You— He— What!? He was here?” Dustin sputters, “Steve, I’m 1000% sure he wasn’t stealing shit! What did you do to him?”

“I did my job, Henderson. I banned him from the store and got back the necklace he took— What— Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Steve.”

It’s over the course of the next conversation, getting completely chewed up and spit out by Dustin that Steve learns he didn’t just accidentally rob someone.

“STEVE.”

He accidentally robbed a world famous rockstar.

Steve spends the next few days so deeply embarrassed that he can’t even dare to pick up the phone. He gave Eddie such a hard time when all he needed was a place to hide out so he didn’t get mobbed by fans and paparazzi.

Looking back on it, knowing what he knows now, Eddie handled it with such grace. Steve’s even more ashamed, not because of the whole rockstar thing, but because it's shitty to hurl accusations and a deadly nail bat at anyone, and take their stuff on top of that.

He finally bolsters up the courage to dial the number. As soon as he hears ‘what’s up, it’s Munson’ on the other line, he lets loose a string of apologies and a promise to give the necklace back as soon as he can.

It gets cut short with that same chuckle that still gives him a warm chill even down the phone line.

“Keep it. Looks better on you,” he can hear the smile in Eddie’s voice, “But that means you’re gonna have to come to my show tonight. Can’t play without my lucky guitar pick, can I?”

#and that’s steve’s meet cute gone wrong with his rockstar boyfriend #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #steddie fic #famous eddie munson #steddie ficlet #bookstore owner steve #eddie munson headcanon #my fics #steve harrington headcanon #rueswriting #steddie headcanon #steddie fanfic #stranger things #meet cute #maybe i’ll fluff this up into a full fic at some point who knows

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withloveajaxx · 1 year

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forgetting your wallet

𓂅 genre: childe, diluc, zhongli, xiao x gn! reader

𓂅 warnings: none

𓂅 summary: how they react when you go shopping and tell then you forgot your wallet

𓂅 note: eyyy it's rich boys ft. zhongli n xiao 😎 anyways as you can see below,,, there's going to be other version of this fic featuring different fandoms/characters i've been thinking about writing for for a while now!! i hope it won't be weird seeing me post something other than genshin content 💀 if you think i should make separate blogs for separate fandoms just lmk hehe. ALSO!! got inspo from those couple vids of "telling my bf i forgot my wallet" trend on tiktok :"D. OKAY ENOUGH OF MY RAMBLING PLS ENJOY THIS FIC N HAVE A GREAT DAY MWAH 🫶

[VALORANT VER.] [HAIKYUU!! VER.]

CHILDE

literally offended™️ like what? what do you mean you expected him to let you pay for shit?

the moment you enter a clothing store, he's looking at you with a completely lovesick gaze, watching as you scan through the various clothing items.

willingly holds the shopping basket for you as you pick out an item or two, turning them to check their prices.

he sees you reach in your bag, eventually frowning and putting the items back. he's confused at first, catching your wrist before you can hang the clothes back on the rack.

"why're you putting them back? they'd look so good on you," he comments, a puzzled frown making its way to his face.

"i forgot my wallet," you admit sheepishly, giving him a bashful smile. "it's fine though. i'll come back and–"

"you expected me to let you pay?" he asks in disbelief, jaw comically dropping to the floor. you don't even get the chance to get a word in before he's snatching those clothes for you and stuffing them in the basket.

"you're unbelievable." he scoffs in an exaggerated and lighthearted manner before gesturing to the rest of the store with a nod of his head. "just get whatever you want, babe. don't worry about anything."

"are you sure?" you ask doubtfully, looking around the rest of the store with a barely concealed look of desire.

"mhm. go wild." childe chuckles, pecking your forehead and nodding in response. the blinding smile and little fashion show you gave him afterwards was all he would have ever asked for in return.

DILUC

poor man is so confused when you start putting the things in your shopping cart back on the shelves :((

he was so entertained seeing you grab all the goodies you wanted and dumping them into the cart.

he's looking at you with concern when you stop in the middle of the aisle to check your bag, a growing frown on your face as your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"what's wrong darling?" he asks, placing a hand on the small of your back to give you some reassurance. "are you looking for something?"

"my wallet..." you sighs and close your bag, looking at the mountain of stuff in your cart with a disappointed pout. "i forgot it somewhere at home."

he's frozen in both confusion and shock when you slowly start returning items to their rightful places on the shelves. "i'll just get them some other time, i guess."

now it's diluc's turn to furrow his brows. he's literally right in front of you???? he can and will pay for anything???

"oh, darling," he coos gently, placing whatever he could recall you getting back into the cart. "i can pay for it. you don't need to worry about such things."

"thank you diluc," you smile, standing on your toes to place a grateful kiss to his cheek. "i promise i'll repay you some time."

"no need, dearest." he sends you a smile that has your heart squeezing almost painfully in adoration for the man before you. "you're happiness is all that matters."

ZHONGLI

okay i know this man doesn't have much money, but i can pretty much guarantee you that you're getting whatever you lay your eyes on.

you're looking through a small trinkets kiosk with some of the cutest accessories you've ever seen.

zhongli admires the trinkets along with you, smiling as you pick up some pieces of jewelry to try them on.

"that looks wonderful on you, dear," he compliments you fondly, admiring how exquisite a particular bracelet looked on your wrist.

thankfully, the bracelet wasn't made out of any expensive materials so it was rather affordable, and you could easily get it for yourself.

however, as you rummage your bag for your wallet, it's unfortunately nowhere to be found.

zhongli, ever the observant, already noticed the troubled look on your face. he's connected the dots by now so this man is bringing out his own wallet. "let me, my love." he starts looking through his wallet for some spare coins and any bills he can find.

you grab onto his coat sleeve in an attempt to stop him from paying on your behalf. "zhongli, i can't let you–" he's already handed a stack of coins and a single bill in payment before you can even finish your sentence.

"nonsense, dear." he pats the bracelet on your wrist. "it's my pleasure to buy something that looks simply stunning on you."

he brings your hand up to his lips to kiss it lovingly before linking your arms together once more. "if there is anything else that catches your eye, do let me pay for it. it would be my greatest honor to spoil you."

XIAO

he's far less lovey-dovey and physically affectionate compared to the other men mentioned above, but rest assured he'll get whatever you want <3

he doesn't really like being in a crowded space with tons of people, so when you go shopping he's more quiet.

of course he's helping you by carrying the basket and giving you his opinions when you ask for it, but that's about all he does.

he's still as observant as ever though, so when he sees you putting the stuff you wanted back in their places with an upset expression, he knows something's off.

"why're you putting them back?" he asks, brows furrowing in slight confusion.

"i don't have money to pay for it right now. i left my wallet somewhere," you explain sadly, putting the last of your items on the shelf.

he simply hums in understanding before going back to being quiet. he doesn't immediately do something but you'll see how much he loves you later on.

"why don't you go back to the car?" he hands you the keys, and gestures to the basket filled with the rest of the stuff he's getting for himself. "maybe your wallet's in there. you go look while i pay for my stuff."

you agree and by the time you've searched all over the car, xiao is back with numerous bags. you were still upset about your wallet so you didn't get to notice the oddly numerous amount of bags before hopping into the car and letting xiao drive you both home.

however when you get home, he hands you literally everything you were eyeing, his expression soft. "i can pay for stuff. don't be afraid to ask me. i can't say no to you," he reminds you, the tip of his ears blushing red at both his admission and the happy smile you give him that makes his heart pound in affection.

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haykawas · 5 months

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✩•̩̩͙*˚ THE ART OF (NOT) PULLING YOUR BEST FRIEND

summary : You've always been good at hiding your feelings for your best friend, but when Satoru finally manages to land a date with the girl of his dreams, something seems to shift inside you. But don't worry, you have another best friend there who's more than willing to care for you.

word count : ~ 11K for all routes that are out, ~ 2.8K for this part. tags : best friend!to lovers, modern AU, best friends gojo & geto, fluff, angst, eventual smut, drama, love confessions, multiple choices standalone.

It is known that blue is your favorite color.

Blue like the sea. Like the sky on a particularly hot day. Blue like the feathers of a magnificent peacock, and the flesh of a ripe blueberry.

His eyes are blue. They’re this piercing, icy blue you can’t seem to get away from wherever you are. – It is a coincidence that they are your favorite shade of blue, too.

You don’t know when you started liking the color blue with so much passion, and you think maybe you always have. Yet you don’t do anything about it, you don’t go out of your way to profess your love for it. You don’t seek it out and won’t admit it’s the only color that’ll ever make you feel the way you do when you look at it.

It’s okay. There are many other shades to love. It’s just disheartening that it seems to be the only one that suits you so well.

And it is this same shade of blue that is sparkling in Satoru’s eyes, screaming ‘victory’ as he comes back to your table in a confident stride. The wide grin that is stretching his pink lips is triumphant, and you know what this means.

He actually did it.

He slams the piece of paper on the table, leaning at your level to rub it in your face, his sunglasses threatening to fall off his nose. – He always looks so cute when they do that, his nose slightly scrunching to keep them from doing so.

“Ha! You owe me ten bucks.”

You roll your eyes at him, clicking your tongue in annoyance. “I’m sure she took pity on you. That, or it’s a fake number.”

You hope it is, but you would be a fool to believe that. Just a look at your best friend would be enough to understand the fact that he could get anything he would ever want. Like he loved saying, his face card never declined. – To your dismay.

“Oh I knew you’d say that, so I called the number just in case. And guess what?”

“Ugh, Satoru? That’s fucking insane.” You cringe without waiting for him to finish what he has to say.

His eyes widen comically, pointing at you with accusation. “It’s not!”

Suguru also grimaces, “It is. Creep.”

You grin and silently mouth back the word to your white-haired friend, mocking him.

Satoru rolls his eyes, already exasperated with the both of you, “Whatever you say. While you nerds are gonna be drowning in your video games, I’ll actually be getting some action tonight.” He winks, emphasizing the word action and you feign a gag. And you don’t have to try too hard for it to come out as genuine.

Suguru chimes in, sighing, “Just don’t come crying to us when she ghosts you, man. Again.”

You hum, your chin propped up on your hand, “He sure knows how to pick ‘em, hm, Suguru?”

“She’s different, guys, come on!” He whines.

“Weren’t the three other girls before different too?“

“I believe they were!“ You say, feigning the act of pushing imaginary glasses up your nose. Suguru chuckles, and you grin at him.

“Well, y’know…” He trails off, sighing in defeat because he knows he’s been cornered. “I just really don’t wanna screw this one up.”

You raise an eyebrow, a forced smile on your lips. “We’re just fucking with you, ‘Toru.” You smirk, “But don’t worry, we’ll keep the ice cream ready just in case you come back with your tail between your legs.”

He groans, “I swear you two are perfect for each other. Always teaming up on me like that! What have I done to deserve two mean best friends?”

Suguru looks at you in amusement, and you instantly meet his eyes with a cheeky grin of your own.

“Two pretty best friends.”

At this meaningful exchange, Satoru groans, throwing his hands in the air.

“See? My point exactly!”

You can’t help but let your lips curve into a half-smile at his antics, and you don’t notice how your eyes seem to shine so much brighter when they are laid on your best friend, but Suguru does. He knows you by heart, having spent so many days and so many nights by your side.

At the time, you and Satoru came into a package deal as much as Satoru and him did. Naturally, after spending so many years by your side, he understands the mechanics of your brain. Sometimes, such as now, he even senses something’s wrong before you even do.

Right now, he knows that your heart aches. That it must be clenching painfully in your chest, that you must be punishing yourself for not feeling happy for your best friend when he’s been meaning to ask this girl out for weeks now. But how could you, when the mere thought of him touching and tasting someone else’s skin makes you feel like you can’t breathe? Like always, Suguru can’t help but want to protect you.

So he calls your name, and when you turn to him, he leans in to whisper in your ear, “Hey, you really okay with this?”

You try to muster a grin, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and like always he sees right through you. “Me? Why wouldn’t I be okay? ‘m just worried he’ll get his hopes up for nothing, that’s all.”

He lifts a brow not quite buying your act, but he doesn’t say a thing, and you’re thankful for that.

“What do you say we give him a taste of his own medicine then?”

You arch a brow in confusion, and he waves a hand before explaining himself.

“Remember when you used to date this Nanami guy and Satoru constantly crashed your dates with phone calls and weird texts?”

“And when he actually showed up out of nowhere at the theater and shoved himself between us! I swear I was gonna rip him to shreds.”

“You gave him the silent treatment for a week after that, I thought I was gonna go crazy with his constant blabbering.” He groans, his almond eyes slightly crinkling as he reminisces your high school days.

You scoff, amused, “He always had some lame excuses, too. Nanami ended up breaking up with me 'cause he thought I was cheating on him with that fucker.”

“So what do you think? Up for a little fun?” He says as he looks at you with mirth in his eyes, waiting for you to catch on. When you do, you can’t help but gasp at the implications of his words.

“Are you serious?”

He grins cheekily, “Let’s go to the same place he’s taking his date, but in disguise.”

“That does sound fun…” Suguru looks at you with anticipation. “But it’s very childish.”

“Yep.”

“And he might see us.”

“That’s a possibility.”

“He’ll be pissed, too…”

“Oh, he will.” He smirks and you can’t help but mirror his expression.

“I’m in.”

“Hey! What are you two whispering about?”

“Hm? Just girl talk, you wouldn’t get it.” You answer, and you hear Suguru snicker in the back. You also can’t help the cheeky grin forming on your lips when you notice Satoru’s expression, but you don’t give him time to argue. “Hey, where did you say your date was, again?”

That’s how you find yourself standing before the restaurant. You can’t help but scoff at the sight.

“Papa’s, seriously? It’s like he’s begging to get dumped!”

Your eyes shift to Suguru, and you burst out laughing at the sight. “You look absolutely ridiculous.” You say with a grin, and he mirrors your expression with a raised brow.

“Oh, and you don’t?”

Your eyes meet and you try to hold it in, – you’re smiling so wide it hurts your cheeks. Suguru turns his neck and averts his eyes so he doesn’t laugh, but you can see the grin stretching his lips.

“The mustache is killing me, man, I’m gonna blow our cover!” You laugh, “Take it off.”

“And ruin the vibe I went for?” He shakes his head, “Just say you want to sabotage me.”

“I do! You look way too hot in this, our cover will be blown immediately!” You tease.

He arches a brow, a hint of amusement gleaming in his eyes, “Do I now?”

“Uh uh,” You nod, “I’m this close to calling off the operation just so I can rock your world.” He lets out a deep laugh, hiding his mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes crinkle in amusement.

You return his smile.

What should have been a depressing evening turned into one of the funniest nights of your life. You would try your best to keep yourself from laughing while Suguru would act all serious, without a hint of a smile. He plays his part so well that he makes it even harder for you to keep up your facade. Your laughter echoes through the streets as you try hard not to attract attention, failing spectacularly when you happen to catch a glimpse of Suguru’s costume, – especially his top hat.

He has to be the only person in the world who’d think of dressing up as freaking Abraham Lincoln to spy on someone.

After this night, the bond between you two grows even stronger. Late-night conversations become the norm, and you’ve grown used to hanging out without Satoru.

It’s also due to the fact that Satoru would always find himself too busy to spend time with you, for some reason. He also misses on movie nights, and Satoru usually never misses movie nights.

You suspect it has to be because he’s seeing that girl from the Café.

You don’t want to think about it. Nor do you want to think about the distance that is growing between you. Yet you can’t deny that you miss him.

You miss him terribly, because he’s always been the only constant in your life and now it seems like he isn’t anymore. You’ve always shared everything with him, and him with you, so having him act so cold towards you feels strange. It feels like a knife in your heart.

You exhale, your finger hovering over the send button as you contemplate whether to send the message. Even if you don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, you refuse to let miscommunication come between the two of you.

you SATORU . you still coming tonight???:p

No. Too casual.

you wyd tonight? still on 4 movie night?;)

Ugh, too horny.

you Are you coming tonight or are you still avoiding us?

Hell no. Too truthful.

you you coming tonight?

Sent. As soon as you hit the send button, you throw your phone on the couch and bury it under a mountain of pillows. You sigh, feeling slightly stupid for freaking out over such a simple text.

But you never fight with Satoru, this is something you just don't do.

You’re so lost in your own embarrassment that you don’t see the screen of your phone light up, displaying Satoru’s contact name in bold letters.

satoru yeah i'll be there

The scent of sugar fills the kitchen, and you’re lost in thought as you watch the bag of dried corn turn into sweet treats under the microwave’s heat. You sigh for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, and Suguru groans at the sound.

“My mom used to say sighs brought out the devil.” He lifts a brow. “At this rate I’ll have to incense the whole house when you leave.”

“Your mom’s way too superstitious, and you know that.” You roll your eyes. “But if the devil’s real I hope he takes you first. You’re a pain in my ass.”

He hums with a small smile, “Seems like you’re in a mood to me.”

“Classy. And a bit sexist.”

“You know what else’s classy? Not burning up the only bag of popcorn we have.” He throws with a smirk as he leaves the kitchen.

You curse at him under your breath and make quick work to retrieve what can be saved. When you’re done, you meet him on the sofa, and find him already sprawled out.

He scoots over to make room for you, and you let yourself fall on the cushions, propping your legs on his thighs. You place the bowl between the two of you, and there’s silence before you hear Suguru snort.

“I tried, okay? It was all burnt!”

“You’re so not talented at this.” He bites his lip to avoid laughing, while his gaze keeps flickering from the bowl to your eyes.

“Stop looking at it!” You move the bowl out of his sight, “You won’t have any if you keep making fun of me.” You threaten, and Suguru retreats, his hands raised in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright! Give it back and sit down, the movie’s starting.”

“I wish someone loved me like this.”

You don’t realize you’ve said this out loud until you feel Suguru’s burning gaze on you. You don’t know if it’s because you’ve suddenly blurted out a lame, depressing confession, or because he thinks you’re crazy for saying it when you’re watching Shrek.

“I’m sure there is.”

You scoff, “Yeah, right.”

You turn your gaze back to the TV, but you can’t ignore the look he’s giving you. You try to ignore it, but he doesn’t let it go. And you know he has something to say. Something you won’t like.

“What?” You finally blurt out, appraising him with narrowed eyes.

“When are you going to tell him?”

“Tell who?”

“Don’t play dumb.” He gives you a blank stare, unimpressed by your act. “Everyone and their mother knows you have it bad for Satoru.”

“Suguru…” You groan.

“Go on, tell me I’m wrong.”

Your mouth opens to try and muster up a lie, but you can’t come up with anything. You can’t lie about this, and he knows it.

He smiles, “See? You can’t even deny it.”

“He has a girlfriend.”

“Oh, did he tell you? Or did you just pull this one out of your ass?”

You roll your eyes, pushing him away. He chuckles, enjoying the sheer embarrassment displayed on your face.

“You know he didn’t. But come on! You and I both know he never misses movie night, and he’s been bailing on us for weeks now.” You frown, “What kind of best friend does that?”

Suguru hums. “Yeah, sure. A best friend.”

You look at him with arched brows. He’s testing your limits, and while you’re used to this side of him, you’re not in the mood to play. At this point, you’ve both drowned out the sound of the TV, you glaring at him for forcing you to face the truth, and him just waiting for you to come to terms with your own feelings.

You let out a humorless laugh, throwing your hands in the air, “You know what?”

“Yes, I’m in love with Satoru! So what? Do you expect me to run to his house and confess my undying love for him before it’s ‘too late’?” You exclaim, and you’re too engrossed in your speech to notice Suguru’s panicked expression as he looks over your shoulder, or his hand gestures signaling you to cut the conversation short.

You don’t realise you’re no longer alone until the sound of movement startles you. You turn around with a jump, and what you see makes your blood run cold. Satoru is standing in the doorway, his presence having gone unnoticed until then. You can see the shock on his face, a mixture of surprise and confusion.

You’re paralyzed.

You feel like the sick butt of a joke. And if the fact that your childhood best friend heard you profess your love for him wasn't enough to make you wish you were dead, it’s the look on his face that crushes you the most.

His eyes search for yours in hope you’ll explain yourself, and it makes you want to disappear from the surface of the Earth.

You never wanted him to know. You never wanted him to look at you like this. Like… he pitied you.

Suguru extends an arm to hold you back, but he’s a few seconds too late. You can’t bear this, so much that you don’t let anyone say a single word before you flee the apartment, ducking under Satoru’s arm without sparing him a glance.

You absolutely won’t stand there and listen to him apologize for not feeling the same way you do.

You refuse to feel your best friends’ sorry glances on you as they comfort you. You know it’s cowardly, that you should just stayed and talked about the elephant in the room, or just lied your way out of it.

You didn't, though. You fled, and the shame is eating you alive, but you couldn't stay there.

Not today. Your dignity won’t let you.

Yet, it seems like fate has other plans for you, because you hear quick, familiar, footsteps hurrying towards you.

And you know it’s him.

Him? What do you mean by him? Help a poor writer out!

Suguru Geto, who else?

Of course it's Gojo Satoru.

hello hello, welcome to my standalone first choose your own adventure!! there are three routes to this story (one has two possible branches), two are already out, one is coming soon! i absolutely loved working on this, although this took lots of time. i hope you enjoy it!

rbs are much appreciated <3

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angrylittleburd · 2 years

Photo

[ID: a six image comic of an anthropomorphic bird.

1: “F💡CUS [plaintext: focus, but the o is a lightbulb]

By: Burd

TWITTER.COM/ANGRYLITTLEBURD

ANGRYLITTLEBURD.TUMBLR.COM

2: Imagine a lightbulb over your head. When you are mentally stimulated that bulb lights up. This lets you focus on whatever activity you're engrossed with. [a fox has a lightbulb over their head, which turns on and sheds light on the book they’re reading.]

My problem is, I don't have just one lightbulb. So even if one lightbulb is lit up, I have other lightbulbs that are not. This makes it hard to focus on the task put before me. It creates this feeling of being under stimulated. [the bird has four dim lightbulbs above their head, and then one lightbulb is lit, barely shedding light on the piece of paper they’re staring at. They mutter “Come on. Just focus already.”

3: When under stimulated, even things I actively enjoy I find too difficult to focus on. Often I need multiple sources of stimulation just to focus on one task. [They have one lightbulb lit and are reading a book. “Come on, you've read this page five times now.” Then they are happily reading with headphones on and blowing bubblegum.]

This is where I run into my other problem with focus. Too many sources of stimulation but not enough lightbulbs end up blinding me. When it feels like everything is vying for my attention it quickly causes over stimulation. [They frantically look every direction as they are bombarded with notification pop ups and someone off screen yelling “hey!”]

4: The hardest part of all of this? I don't know how many lightbulbs I have at any given moment. I never really know until I start adding or removing sources of stimulation. [The bird has three dark lightbulbs over their head, then gloomily holds them in their arms, where there are now six dim bulbs.]

This makes committing to plans a very daunting task at times. [The fox is saying to the bird: “movie reel icon? Video game controller icon? Clock icon?” The bird is holding three bulbs in one hand while anxiously giving a thumbs up. They’re thinking “I hope I'll be able to pay attention that long.”]

5: At the same time, its also why its so easy to hyper fixate on things. When you find something that lights up all your lightbulbs you give it all your time and attention. [Bird is watching a Godzilla movie with fox, and all three of their lightbulbs are turned on. They now have two lightbulbs, both of them lit, as they talk to fox about the movie, then make fanart, and play with Godzilla toys in their Godzilla-themed room.]

6: But when the number of lightbulbs you have changes without warning, you end up dropping hobbies out of nowhere. They still light up the same number of lightbulbs they always have. It's not that you are no longer interested in these things, but your number of lightbulbs changed so you can't focus on them like you used too. [sic]”

[Bird is toying with the figurine, but only two of their three lightbulbs are lit up. The toy tips over as Bird gloomily holds their extra unlit bulb. They leave it next to the dinosaur toy. The signature reads “Burd”]

End ID]

[ID, courtesy of @levymcgarden55]

F💡CUS

#burdart #ADHD #accessible #edited to add ID

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bodyelectr1c · 19 days

Text

plaything

austin doesn’t let the reader finish until he wants her to

literally no plot, just smut

warnings: orgasm denial, teasing, oral (f receiving), degradation, edging, a little overstim, implied age gap, possessive austin, daddy kink

this is my first time writing, it’s so nasty but kind of hot. i’m a sucker for an older guy, so i picture a sexy age gap. anyways, enjoy!

austin hadn’t let you off easily, forbidding you from touching yourself while simultaneously leaving you unfinished and begging, writhing; a string of desperate whines and pleas leaving your throat. it was clear to you he didn’t care for your pleasure, he just wanted to get himself off. you were nothing more than a fuckdoll to him. he’d no shame in pulling you by your hair- no matter when; no matter where, dragging you to the nearest bathroom, shed, closet, whatever- and fucking you senseless

“fuck- you’re such a slut baby,”

“your cunt is so fucking tight, just for me”

“you’re-fuck, gonna be the death of me..”

he cooed ‘affectionate’ remarks at you in between progressively sloppier thrusts- if they could even be labelled affectionate. you regarded it as love on his part, you both know you enjoyed being degraded, and he knew you’d do anything to make daddy cum. sometimes, whilst jackhammering into your pussy, he’d lazily reach down and thumb at your untouched clit in circular motions, occasionally dipping his hand down to where you both connected, attempting to fit one of his thick fingers in alongside. he did this just to hear you scream his name, and he’d stop as soon as he felt his climax nearing.

it was habitual, his hips would begin to stutter, his moans would get more desperate- louder and lower, his degrading remarks would descend into a string of pet names, his eyes fluttering closed as he groaned. “babybabybaby”

and then it was over, he’d pull out with a desperately hot groan, his cum painting every part of your body as he’d collapse onto the bed, his larger frame dipping the mattress next to you. you’d scream his name to no avail, trying to chase the high that he brought you near, but never cared to complete. your own hand darted down to your throbbing clit, rubbing desperate and fast circles around the sensitive nerves before they were met with a sharp slap on austin’s behalf, and then an absence of any sensation. he’d pull your hands away from your clit, puffy and leaking.

“you cum, when i make you cum, i don’t fuck college whores who get off on anyone’s fingers but mine.” he’d growl, pulling your thighs apart after you’d began rubbing them together in an attempt at any friction, his words turning you on impossibly more; you felt like you could cum untouched, coaxed by more of his dirty, perverted requests. you let him know, too, babbling incoherent sentences and grabbing onto his toned arms, repeating over and over again to just “let me cum daddy, i’ll be good i promise, fuck- pleasepleaseplease austin”

to your dismay, he’d almost always get up off the bed, watching you writhing and twitching from your previous proximity to your orgasm, and spit out:

“you’re so desperate it’s pathetic,”

before walking away to take a scathing hot shower, leaving you sensitive, but obedient enough to never touch yourself in the hopes that he’d come back and please you to completion.

in those blissful moments where he’d come back from the bathroom after an excruciatingly long time, finding pleasure in the confidence that you’d wait for him to make you cum, he’d hover his tall frame over you, watching attentively, towel loosely hanging on his hips, v line completely visible above the thin cloth, hair still wet as an aftermath of his shower. he’d let out a gruff and low laugh at how much of you whore you were being, fucked out without being allowed to cum. he found it comical, and a fucking sexy sight to see. his girl, spread out just for him, obedient and desperate to please him in any way you could. he got hard again just thinking about it.

he’d lower himself, much to your relief as you let out a pleasured sigh, letting your head fall back against the bed as his stubble brushed your clit alongside his nose, teasing you one last time, evoking a sharp twitch in your abdomen, before he brought his tongue out to swirl around your sensitive cunt. your desperation to get off overcame you, you couldn’t help but lose your fingers in his damp hair whilst pulling his head down to force him onto your clit. he didn’t stop you, instead alternating between sucking your clit- hard, as if to signal that he was still in charge, and swirling his tongue around your pleasure soaked pussy, focusing his attention on one sensitive spot that made you whine louder and higher.

hearing you express your immense pleasure was a profession of devotion for him, and it turned him on profusely, causing him to moan around your cunt, sending vibrations around you that fluttered around your walls. his sucking and teasing was becoming too much for you, and he didn’t give you a second to rest, pulling you down with a tight grip on your hips every time you tried to lift yourself in an attempt to catch your breath. he knew you could take it.

you felt your climax nearing you as you began to convulse, closing your thighs around his head, his still damp hair tickling your legs as he sucked harder and harder, also aware of how close you were due to the incessant chant of unholy curses and moans left your body. it was sinful, truly, his chin already soaked with the anticipation of your climax, mixed with the noises you made as he lost himself in between your legs.

“daddy, i’m so close, please let me cum, please let me cum, fuck!” you begged as he looked up from his task at hand, mouth never leaving your swollen clit, icy blue eyes focused on the pornographic sight before him, basking in it.

your climax washed over you as you let out a last scream of his name, pushing his head back down as you bucked your hips sloppily against his face, allowing yourself to release, the warm knot in your stomach untying itself as your eyes rolled back into your head.

as you lay there, panting, coming down from your intense high, austin outlined your clit in slow circular motions with his fingers to coax you through your comedown, making you twitch under the aftermath of the stimulation, bucking your hips up again slightly before letting go of all the tension in your muscles and collapsing farther back into the mattress, hands still intertwined in his now messy hair as he moved to lie next to you, using the white sheets to clean the remainder of your juices off his face before turning to face you where you lay, breathless

“fuck baby, that- was hot.”

#austin butler x y/n #austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #austin butler #austin!elvis x reader #austin x reader #elvis 2022 #elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis presley smut #Spotify #ally talks

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acotar-taylorsversion · 3 months

Text

Gwynriels and eluciens, this soft launch of Elriel and Elain being the next main character is for you guys cause you guys obviously don’t get it.

We know it’s not a confirmation, but like Sarah has said, isn’t it obvious? We know it’s coming.

Acotar isn’t about a Pegasus, or priestesses, or valkyries, or whatever it is you guys think GWYN (and not emerie for some reason) is gonna do for the illyrians, none of that. Like Azriel hates the illyrians, he’s not gonna do anything to fix or help them, that would be Cassian, who actually loves his people despite what they’ve done. It’s about FEYRE and her sisters, and their stories and choices. It’s always gonna be centered around the archerons.

Those of us that have been around since the beginning, like since 2015 like me, have sensed this from the beginning. It’s been obvious ever since Elain and Azriel met in mist and fury and then again when rejecting a mate and questioning the cauldron was brought up in wings and ruin.

I’m sick and tired of this idiotic ship war, especially when one of the ships doesn’t even exist in canon. Like Sarah never talks about gwyn, never talks about Lucien anymore. She only mentions Elain and Azriel and you guys can’t connect the dots. Well, I think you can, you guys just refuse to accept what the rest of fandom knows. The next book is gonna be Elain and Azriel’s story and then the last acotar book is more than likely gonna be a multi pov book, similar to kingdom of ash, centered around the 3 main couples and their friends as they defeat the big bad and finish the series.

Sorry for the rant. I’ll probably get bitched at or a screen shot will be taken and I’ll be trashed on the other side. I’m just tired of the other side treating us like we’re the delusional ones. Sometimes they make no sense at all, it’s comical.

#acotar #elain archeron #elriel #anti g*ynriel #pro elriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar 5 #anti el*cien #anti gwynriel #anti elucien

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yawneon · 4 months

Text

PROJECT : REBUS !

a/n : my second little fic thingy on this app 🤭 i’m writing this at 4am, sorry if there’s any little mistakes. (i’m feeding my own mattheo riddle delusions)

pairing : mattheo riddle x gn!slytherin!reader

summary : you hated mattheo riddle, loathed him almost but all shit hits the fan when things go missing in your and his dorm, so the only logical thing to do is to band together and find out what in merlin’s name is going on.

!!! : sherlock holmes era, im funny i swear, fluff, enemies to teammates to lovers, im gonna write this one longer promise, a little bit on y/n (we love them), nicknames, references of non-canon slytherin characters (lorenzo berkshire, mattheo riddle.. obviously 😭😭), half-blood reader, mattheo is annoying

part 1! / …

★・・・・・・★

it wasn’t out of the ordinary for mattheo riddle, son of the dark lord, to be annoying you in some way. it was his hobby, (or atleast that’s what he’d like to call it). no matter how many times you tell him to fuck off or leave you alone he just could never grasp the idea of it, it was out of his nature to leave you alone because it was like you two were made for eachother (again what he would like to describe it as).

“back off riddle.” you warned. you were currently at a slytherin party, your team had just won the quidditch match and your whole house seems over the moon. well everyone but you.

“come on, jelly bean.” mattheo looks at you with a shit-eating grin on his face. he pokes your side causing you to swat his hand away in an instant. it was hard to hear him over the blasting music and the sight of blaise on a table singing his heart out but you just knew that whatever he said was a teasing little snarky comment. “riddle.” you warn again giving him a stern look, “just one dance cookie and then i’ll leave you alone..” he gives you a fake pout, his bottom lip jutting out. looking him up and down you fake gag causing him to pout even further, a cheeky smirk ghosting on his lips.

you roll your eyes at him and your legs move away from him (for what felt like the fifth time that night ((it was.)) and he tries to follow you to annoy you further but he’s interrupted by a soft hand on his forearm pulling him, with one quick look to the hufflepuff student who somehow found themselves snaked into the party. his gaze leaves you as he’s quickly distracted by the person and you keep walking. it was going to be a long night obviously so since they had only just started.

you find yourself stood with your friends pansy, daphne, theodore, and draco . you stood around drinking a mystery concoction made by lorenzo and you wonder to yourself who the fuck gave him the job of making these drinks. “these are deadly, merlin.” you groan wincing at the burn in your throat as you swallow the liquid in the cup. pansy snickers at your comment bringing the red cup to her lips, “i mean yeah look who’s behind them.” she laughs taking a sip. “hey [name], are you and mattheo like a thing?” daphne ask, fiddling with her golden necklace that hung around her collarbone. you almost spit your drink out and the two boys around you chuckle at your reaction. “why would you ever make such an assumption?” your face must contort into a disgusted confused mix because everyone around you starts chuckling to themselves.

“well, i’ve got a friend in ravenclaw and i’d think they’d be a great match. it’s just that he’s always around you so i just assumed you guys were i don’t know.. into eachother?” daphne smiles shyly, her intentions seem true and you knew that she doesn’t like mattheo since he’s not really.. her type. “daphne..” you put a hand on her shoulder comically, “you can have him.. on one condition.. you make sure he never speaks to me again.” you snicker, daphne beams and nods profusely promising you that you will not be disappointed.

you and mattheo had been what seemed like enemies since like forever. the first thing he did to make you hate him was when he dunked your head into a volubilis potion in first year causing you to sound like a chipmunk for 3 days and since that day you have never had a break from mattheos constant efforts to humiliate you. first it was the potion, then pushing you off your broom, setting your robe on fire in transfiguration, the list goes on really. but mattheo continued to play dumb all the way up to sixth year. it was weird, the fact he acted absolutely oblivious, but you thought he was just teasing you again.

the night died down slowly and after about 3 hours of talking, laughing and drinking you head back to your dorm. you arrive at your dorms door, met with it slightly ajar. you think that it was weird before venturing onwards sinking yourself into the chair at your desk, you were a lucky student, having a dorm to yourself was a blessing. hearing daphne’s and theodore’s constant complaints on snoring, messiness and fights you found yourself encapsulated in the warm fortunes of being able to have a room to yourself, (even if it did get lonely).

sitting up from the wooden chair, you shower and change into more suitable sleeping attire which was obviously your pajamas you brought from home accompanied by slippers. you fall into your bed with a tired sigh, your eyes wandering over your dorms ceilings, then walls, the lights, the desk and your jewellery stand in which your rings that your family have kept as an heirloom for years centuries were missing.

they were missing.

the. rings. were. missing.

you sit up from the bed in a comical way, you could’ve sworn there were onomatoepias surrounding the air around you. jolting up quickly you rush to look for the rings. you check in the holder, on the desk, on the floor, in the blankets, under the pillows, anywhere you could think of. if you were found to have lost your prized family heirloom your mother would have your head on a stick and you would be fed to the dogs. you HAVE to find the rings. even if you died doing it.

you were searching for that shit, like it was your life elixir. as if it was the elder wand. people would hate thought you were crazy by the way you were looking. it was funny almost seeing someone squirm and rush around such a small area. your sheets were being yanked off your bed and your chest at the foot of your bed was being emptied and rearranged. you looked like you were on drugs, it was bad. you looked like a lunatic, it was horrid. but you gotta do what u gotta do..

to say you were panicking would be an understatement. you were frantic, desperate even. you were on all fours checking every single crevice and crack of that room 15 times over just for there to be nothing. it hasn’t even been an hour since you stepped foot into your dorm. your eyes are wide with anxiety sinking in and you unconsciously start pacing your room.

your mind runs laps thinking about any and every possibility. maybe they grew legs and walked away, maybe there was no rings in the first place and you were just crazy, maybe you’re family was crazy. maybe nothing was real like ever.

you paced up and down your room, hands in your hair basically clawing at it thinking of every scenario possible and every single step you took that day.

1. you woke up.

2. you went to the bathroom and did your business.

3. you changed into your uniform.

4. you checked the rings were still there, they were.

5. you went on about your day.

every single day you check the rings are there. you wouldn’t wear them incase they got damaged so you settled with keeping them on a porcelain plate next to your notebook. every single friend and basically everyone in your year knows how valuable they are and you would a word (avada kadavra) anyone without hesitation if they touched them so no one ever did.

well there is one person that might have and would if he felt especially annoying that day.

you found yourself pounding on mattheo riddles dorm door. the knocks echoed throughout the hall. some partygoers are still hung around in deep conversation, lorenzo seems to be off his shift as the bartender and he is seemingly in his dorm.

you wait for an answer at the door for what feels like eternity (2 minutes) and you being hammering at the door next.

a muffled voice pleads for you to stop and blaise opens the door groggily, fatigue from the party taken over his state of mind.

“where is he.”

“where is who?”

“you know who blaise.”

blaise looks behind him, looking over the beds in his dorm. enzo is in bed, and blaise just got out of his. he looks at mattheos bed and its unmade but its empty.

“not here.” blaise sighs, wiping a tired hand over his eyes.

“then where is he?” you grumble.

“astronomy tower maybe, he likes taking a smoke out there at night. to see stars or some sappy shit.” blaise replies.

you thank blaise quickly and you apologise for the intrusion before quickly picking up your feet from the floor and going to the astronomy tower.

the halls of hogwarts when it was empty were always cold and a bit uneasy when you walk through them at night. knowing that there are ghosts in the walls and there might be other students or things around frighten you but the only thing your running on right now is the drink lorenzo made and pure anger.

your slippers tap on the tile beneath your feet echoing through the walls. you twist up the astronomy tower stairs quickly and you silently enter the icy breeze of the open class. the smell of smoke quickly comes over you, foretelling you that your target was indeed here.

“riddle.” you growl looking at the boy. he felt as if your eyes were piercing holes straight through him and he turns around slowly cigarette still in his mouth. mattheo’s eyes were wide and his face looked guilty.

“i swear whatever theo said he’s lying.” mattheo blurts out quickly. his eyes trail down to your slippers up your long fuzzy pajama pants and then to your night shirt, a quiet smile grows on his face but he’s quick to hide the pink on his cheeks with a snarky remark. “cute outfit, [name]” he laughs taking a long drag of his cigarette.

“did you steal my stuff mattheo?”

“who?” he replies, his lips curl into a smile.

“what?” you make a weird face at him, “did you steal my things?” you say again.

“you said my name.” he laughs out softly his eyes meeting the sky above him. “also no.” mattheo sighs out.

you walk to the ledge of the astronomy tower where he stood and you lean your elbows against the chill metal. “riddle-“ you try to begin but your cut off instantly, “mattheo.” he says. “call me mattheo please.” he says almost shyly, you narrow your eyes at him before shaking your head giving into the boys request.

“mattheo i really need you to be honest with me okay?” you turn to look at him, “did you steal my stuff?”.

“i didn’t [name].” he looks back at you, “right.” you reply, slight mistrust laces your tone but mattheo ignores it as he finishes up smoking his cigarette.

“im being serious!” he whines, the top of the cigarette being dragged across the railing. you give him a nod, coming off a tad sarcastic but mostly trusting.

“my stuff went missing too.” mattheo blurts out, he looks at you breathing out a smoky sigh. you look at him puzzled, you squint your eyes at him trying to read his expression.

with your squinted eyes and mistrusting expression an idea pops up into your head.

not one you like and most definitely not one you’d pitch to mattheo riddle.

but it was better than just sulking around.

“well if we both got robbed, on the same night what are the chances it was the same person?” you sigh out your eyes drawing to the stars above you.

“high?” he replies,

“so as much as i hate this- why dont we help eachother out and look for them together.”

“are you asking me to become your detective partner, honey bun?” he teases you with a sly grin.

“don’t make me change my mind riddle.” you glare at him.

“fine.. i will since your prrrractically begging me to ~” he smiles childishly, a slight gleam in his eyes.

you roll your eyes and groan,

this was a bad idea.

@yawneon

#mattheo riddle #hogwarts #thank you yasmine amaro #harry potter #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle is annoying #slytherin boys #slytherin

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tmntxthings · 1 year

Note

Hi! This is my first time requesting something sorry if any of this sounds weird rjxhdvdhahsuwj

I really liked your donnie fic 'Practice' can I request a leo version please? 👀👉👈

Exercise :3

author’s note: :D your first time requesting and it’s to meeee?! I’m flattered and you sounded totally perfect, here you go dear anon~ hope you enjoy

warnings: established relationship, fluff, cursing, make out session, unedited (it’s rllly late like 1:30 am late, pls forgive grammar mistakes)

> donnie’s < > raph’s < > mikey’s <

————————————————————————

‘ So are you down? ‘ -Leon 💙

‘ I don’t know… ‘ -Y/n ✨

‘ Scared of a little exercising?? C’monnn pleaseeee, I promise the lair will be empty, just us ;) ‘ -Leon 💙

‘ you’re such a dork! exercising?! lolllll ‘ -Y/n ✨

‘ yeah, exercising our lips ;333 ‘ -Leon 💙

‘ …im coming, can’t we just say kissing? ‘ -Y/n ✨

‘ NO, it’s exercising, and that’s final! kissing is for losers ‘ -Leon 💙

‘ Hello???? Are u on ur way?? ‘ -Leon 💙

‘ :( Y/nnnnnnn answerrrrr meeeeeee ‘ Leon 💙

Leo huffed as he let his phone rest on his upper plastron. You did say you were coming so maybe you were already on your way? Though he could’ve just portaled you here, that would’ve been way faster, and he wouldn’t be in his head with worry right now. He licked his lips, and then rolled out of bed. The rest of his family was out at a comic con he opted out of going, he had this idea in his head for a while now. The next time his brothers had plans he was going to invite you over, and well… kiss you. A lot.

The two of you hadn’t really gotten to do so lately. Every moment ruined by one of his brothers suddenly appearing right as he worked up the nerve to lean in close to you. He groaned to himself as he remembered. Leo walked pass the projector room, seeing that even Splinter was probably tucked away in his room. Perfect! Maybe he could set the mood, put on a movie for it to be a bit more natural than just dragging you to his room. Yeah, that didn’t seem obvious. Even though he had already told you exactly what he wanted to do, he still didn’t want it to be forced.

He was scrolling through the movie selections on Netflix when he heard you approaching. You liked the play music on your phone as you descended the long ladder that led to the sewers, listening to the sound echo off the walls. Leo scrambled up from his Pops recliner. Rushing to greet you. You were looking down at your phone as you entered the lair, turning off the music. “Ahem!” Leo cleared his throat for your attention. (He did that because you told him many times before that he was too quiet when entering a room! Often scaring the daylights out of you since he was so silent.) You looked up immediately giving him a bright smile.

“Hey,” you said softly and he quickly scooped you up into his arms. Giving you a twirling hug before placing you back on your feet, whispering back a “Hi” in your ear. “So, we exercising or what?” You waggled your brows at him and he snickered, liking how eager you were. “Duh, though I thought maybe a movie-“ Leo was cut off by the sound of your laughter as you shook your head. “Chickening out already?” You teased and he felt his cheeks burn. “What? No! I just thought it would be.. I don’t know!” He spoke quickly and grabbed your hand, dragging you along to the projector room, grumbling about how he should’ve just carried you to his room.

“Alright alright, no need to wallow, what movie were you thinking of!” You squeezed his hand, as he finally let go to grab the remote again. Scrolling faster now to hurriedly just find something decent and chuck the remote away. The screen was moving so fast that you were giggling again, thinking his sudden enthusiasm very cute. “You laughing at me?” He asked, raising a brow bone. “You’re just too cute,” you said jokingly. “I’ll show you cute!” Leo grumbled, giving up on finding a good one and just selecting whatever the remote was hovering over. “Really?! A animal documentary??” You exasperated, paying more attention to the choice you thought he had made and not at the devious look in his eyes.

“It’s informational! And maybe it’ll give you a few tips on turtles,” he winked. But you missed it completely, trying to point out that this show was obviously titled, “Meerkats in the Wild,” and how it couldn’t possibly be about turtles or any other animal for that matter! Leo took advantage of this distraction to sidle up right next to you. One hand stroking your arm for your attention. You looked over, and your eyes widened as he quickly darted forward pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. You blinked as he leaned back, looking up at the tv screen like he hadn’t just kissed you. A smirking smile gracing his face as he felt your stare. Two could play at that game. You moved your knees underneath you, sitting on them to give you a little more height that would allow you to press a kiss on the side of his head, on his bandana specifically. It was feather light, and as he turned his face at the feeling, you pressed another kiss on him, this time on his forehead. “Mmm,” he muttered lowly, calling attention to his pursed lips that were awaiting the same treatment.

Your hands went up, cupping his cheeks as you couldn’t help your smile, thinking to yourself, adorable, as you did exactly what he wanted. But it was the same soft touch. Barely a touch at all and it had Leo groaning, “Such a tease.” You giggled, “wanna show me how it’s done then?” You were challenging him, goading him. And it totally worked as he bit down on his lower lip, thinking of how much he wanted to show you exactly. But he blew out a breath and grinned, “now remember you asked for it baby.” His hands came up to where you were still holding his face, pulling them down and placing them on his shoulders. He wasted no time in grabbing your hips next, wanting you closer, as he pulled you into his lap. You squealed at the sudden change, of course he was going to make the most out of your challenge.

His lips came crashing down on yours once he had you right where he wanted you. A hand grazing up your back and going into your soft hair. He was like a whirlwind, doing too much all at once and overwhelming all of your senses. His other hand held your hip, keeping you steady, his teeth occasionally nipping at your lips, but mainly he was kissing you like his life depended on it. That was Leo for you, when it came to a challenge that he wanted to win, he’d do anything. And he was doing a lot. You tapped his shoulders, trying to pull back for air but his hand in your hair kept you from moving backwards. You gasped in his mouth, as he finally drew back a couple of centimeters. “Breathless already?” He teased, kissing your cheeks as you continue to breath in sweet oxygen. “Who’s the tease now,” you retorted and he chuckled against your skin, moving his lips lower to your neck and pressing a firm kiss to where your heart beat fluttered.

“Nervous love?” He questioned as his face came back up, looking into your eyes, his own dancing with amusement. He definitely thought he won. Your eyes narrowed, not one to back down either, and he was excited at the prospects of what you would do. He leaned back, shell hitting the back of the couch. “No no, just had to catch my breath is all,” you clarified. The smile he gave you, so utterly handsome, should’ve been illegal. You couldn’t wait to wipe that smug smile off of his lips, you much rather it when he was the one flustered. So with that in mind, one hand left his shoulder, your index finger slowly tracing the lines of his upper plastron. Your eyes never left his, and you could tell he was already trying to keep still. To not twitch underneath you and show how much you affected him just by that touch alone.

When suddenly, loud laughter could be heard from the entrance of the lair and you all but flung yourself to the other side of the couch at the sudden intrusion. “You’ve gotta be shitting me,” Leo growled as Mikey ran into the projector room just seconds later. “Leo Leo Leo!!!” He sang happily not seeing the way one of the blue turtle’s eyes twitched. “Yeah Mikey?” He sighed, and ‘oomphed’ as his little brother dove onto him, then shoved a dvd in his face. “Guess who got another limited edition movie to add to the collection!!! It’s Jupiter Jim!!” He squeaked happily! Leo plastered on a fake smile, “oh wow!” He said trying to appease his little brother while stuffing down his feelings of disappointment. His mind was anywhere but Jupiter Jim movies. No he was replaying the way your eyes shifted into one of seduction as you became more than confident in his lap. His eyes met yours, his irises crackling with desire, he wanted those lips again.

You just winked at him and then turned back to Raph and Donnie who were explaining in great detail about the things they bought at comic con. Leo held back a groan. As Mikey declared they all had to watch the new movie right now. His plan to escape with you into his room, thoroughly thwarted. He wanted to throw a temper tantrum. There was no way his brothers hadn’t done this on purpose. They always seemed to interrupt at the best parts! Just when things were getting interesting. Needless to say, Leo sulked the entire movie. Only putting a smile on his face when Mikey would turn looking for his older brother’s reaction to the movie. Leo couldn’t say he paid much attention to it either. Though he would steal glances at you. Of course, Raph had sat between the two of you. They totally did it on purpose, Leo surmised. Bunch of exercise blockers, that’s what they were!

Halfway through the movie, Leo leaned all the way back into the couch cushions. Hoping he would just get swallowed up at this point. When his eyes turned your way, he hadn’t been expecting you to already be staring at him. His green cheeks turned a shade darker. It didn’t help that you were biting your own lip, Pizza Supreme in the sky, you were such a tease! And then he suddenly understood. You were doing this purposefully! And when it clicked, it must’ve been written all over his face because your lips broke out into a mischievous smile. His eyes narrowed playfully, oh just you wait! One of these days the lair will be empty for more than 30 minutes (they were definitely gone for more than that Leo!) and I’ll show you who’s the real tease around here!

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ladykailitha · 20 days

Text

Never Hold Back Your Step Part 4

One month later...

Sorry about that guys. Hopefully now that Batshit Soulmates and Not All That Glitters is Gold is coming to end next week, you'll get more of this story.

In this we have the relay race, Steve getting weird vibes from his teammates, and finally putting his foot down with Nancy.

Again Nancy will get worse before she gets better.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

****

Steve kept catching Ezra looking at him at the strangest times. It made something between his shoulder blades itch. Like it had back in the junkyard with the demodogs. Just that feeling of...not evil. But danger. He just couldn’t shake the feeling.

He stood behind the jump box and shook his arms loose. He hopped up and down on the balls of his feet trying to stay warmed up. All along the line the other competitors were doing the same.

He got into position and pulled his goggles down. Then the shot went off and they all dived in.

Steve was going up against his teammates for the individual events and knew that for this first one, he had it in the bag. Butterfly was his specialty. So he focused on beating them and not worry about the other competitors.

He knew his form was good, his strokes powerful. His breaths perfectly timed.

Before he knew it he was touching the end plate and getting out of the water.

He saw a couple other boys getting out of the water after him, but it was clear he had beaten them.

His coaches were cheering almost as loudly as the crowd was and Steve felt a sense of accomplishment, one that wasn’t tied to other worldly dimensions and protecting nosy ass teenagers from monsters. He smiled up at the stands and waved.

He took off his goggles and waited for the judges to read the results. A boy from Chicago was second and third place was from Minnesota. But Steve was the undisputed winner.

His teammates mobbed him, jumping on him and cheering.

He watched as his teammates won medals in their heats too. Then they called it for the boys for the day.

Steve hit the showers ready to get that oil slick feel of the chlorine off his skin. Grateful that the cap protected his hair.

He scrubbed his skin with the soap and again he could feel someone watching him, but this time when he looked up, he couldn’t tell who it was as there were so many people around.

It made his skin crawl. It was like sharing the shower room with Tommy and Billy all over again. An experience Steve would rather not repeat. But it wasn’t as though he could go to the coaches with anything, either. There was always going to be boys staring at you in the showers. It didn’t necessarily mean they were gay either. Hatred. Envy. Even curiosity.

He quickly got dressed and hurried out to his waiting friends.

Jeff put his arm around Steve’s shoulder. “Hey, are you okay?”

Steve looked behind him, but didn’t see anything. He nodded. “Just jumpy being so far away from home, I guess.”

Eddie frowned.

Wayne clapped his hands together. “All right, Jeff and I are going site-seeing this afternoon. You boys behave yourselves.”

“Never!” Eddie cackled.

Jeff gave him a high five. “The only way to be.”

Steve and Eddie watched as they walked away talking about all the places they were going to see.

“This about your comic, baby?” Eddie whispered.

Steve shook his head. “I’ll tell you all about it when we get to your hotel room.”

Once they were up in Eddie’s room, Steve flopped on the bed dramatically.

“I would give up sports all together if I didn’t think my dad would kill me if I tried.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “What do you mean, gorgeous?” He got up onto the bed next to Steve.

“Ever since I fell from popularity or lost my crown or whatever,” Steve grumbled, “it’s been really hostile in the locker rooms.”

Eddie laid down next to him. “Even with the swim guys?”

“Before this trip I wouldn’t have thought so,” Steve murmured. “But I’ve caught Ezra staring at me more than once and it’s making my skin crawl. And I’ve been feeling it when he’s not around, too. I don’t know, it might be in my head.”

Eddie pulled him close. “I doubt it’s in your head, Steve. I know you better than that. You wouldn’t be feeling it if there wasn’t something to it.”

Steve let out a sigh. “I guess.”

Eddie pressed his lips to the column of his throat. “I know just how to distract you.”

Steve hummed. “I was hoping you might.”

****

Steve stood in line for the final event. The 4x100 m/yd medley or relay swim. They were all bouncing on their toes, trying to shake off their nerves.

Steve was up third with the butterfly and Ezra was last with free style, with Nike and Lyle starting for back and breaststroke respectively.

Lyle was their weakest link, and being second, it could really hurt them if Steve couldn’t pick up time. Ezra was by far and away their best and fastest swimmer. His front crawl was incredible to watch.

Nick got up on the podium and readied himself for the starting shot. Steve nodded in approval. Nick’s stance was good.

BANG!

And they were off. Nick slicing through the water like a knife. He spun around and began the backstroke. He had an instinct that couldn’t be taught and that’s why he was the best at his part of the relay.

He touched the plate below the podium and Lyle was off, showcasing exactly why he was on the team. His broadstroke was good, but not great. What he was great at was getting off the starting podium at the precise moment Nick touched it.

Steve got up and focused on Lyle coming back down the length of the pool. Lyle was doing well, keeping up with the other teams and not losing any ground that Nick bought them.

He leapt in and all the roar of the crowd, the splashing of the other teams’ members, even the sound of his heart beat went away. It was just him and the water. No distractions, no worries, no fears, just the way the water flowed around him.

Each movement was flawless, breathtaking. Then he was touching the pad and Ezra was splashing into the water above him. He pulled himself out of the water and the world came rushing back in.

He was handled a towel and he began scrubbing his face so he could watch Ezra finish their heat. It really wasn’t even contest. Ezra turned before the other teams were even half way. Ezra would have to get a cramp and drown in order for them to catch up.

Something he obviously didn’t do. He tapped the panel and pulled himself out of the water. He looked up at the time clock with a frown. They had won. Of course they had, but even Steve could tell that hadn’t beaten the record.

Even though Steve and Ezra were co-captains, they had flipped a coin in the locker room to see who would be on the podium if they medalled. Ezra had won.

Steve smiled at his teammate. They had kicked ass.

They all hurried to get showered and changed so that they could celebrate with the people that had come to see them compete and their coaches.

Then they got the news. Nationals were going to be held in California that year in two weeks. They only had two weeks to raise the money to go all the way out to California and Steve felt in the pit of his stomach that Nancy was going to bring it up again. But he pushed it as far to the back of his mind as he could.

Now was the time celebrate.

All throughout dinner and as they got ready for bed Steve still felt like Ezra was watching him. It seemed less hostile then from when they were in the showers, but it still sent a chill down Steve spine as he tried to keep the conversation light with the other boy.

The next morning they all packed up, ready to go back to Hawkins.

It had been a fun trip, the weirdness with Ezra aside. Steve had a few medals to take home with him. A couple of golds, three silver, and a bronze. And they were going to Nationals. It had been one hell of a trip.

****

Of course, Nancy had made a fuss about them going to Nationals. She had ranted about it in the school newspaper again.

Even Tommy H stopped to ask him if Nancy had it out for him in particular after the article came out.

It was the first nice thing that Tommy had said in literal months. And the thing was, Steve didn’t know.

In fact Steve was speaking more to Jonathan at the moment than he was Nancy. A fact that hadn’t escaped him.

So he finally cornered her about it at her locker after school a couple of days after the article came out.

“Seriously, Nancy,” he growled. “What the hell is your problem with me?”

She straightened up. “My problem, Steve, is that you played with my heart for almost two years and I’m suddenly supposed to be okay that you’re dating a man?”

Steve looked around to make sure no one was around to hear that. He grabbed her arm and dragged her to an empty class room.

“Are you trying to get me beaten up?” he hissed. “First this campaign of yours against the swim team and now outing me in the middle of the fucking school, Jesus Christ!”

“Does Eddie know he’s dating a coward?”

Steve straightened up and squared his shoulders. “You’re jealous.”

She folded her arms and leaned back on one foot. “What? No I’m not.”

“You are!” he laughed. “This make so much more sense!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve leaned down into her space. “Oh but I do. You see, Nancy. Despite everything I did love you, but you never loved me. You’ve always been waiting for something better, for someone better and you moved on the instant you found it.”

“That’s not true!” Nancy hissed.

“You didn’t even wait until we had officially broken up to sleep with him for fuck’s sake!” Steve hissed back. “And now that I’ve found someone who loves me for who I am, you can’t deal with it. Because you want to remain as your second option. Well, I’m not some college you can fall back to when your first choice falls through. I’m a human being who just wanted you to love him.”

She stomped her foot angrily. “You don’t get to say that. You’re gay, Steve don’t give me this bullshit about loving me. Because you can’t.”

“I did love you, Nance,” Steve insisted. “Maybe I wasn’t sexually attracted to you, but we both got off and you know we did. Love isn’t just about romance and sex. There are other kinds. But I won’t let you continue to hurt me because you’re jealous.”

“What are you going to do about it?” she huffed.

“I’ll tell the journalism teacher that you have a vendetta against me and to talk you off writing sports,” he said with a shrug.

Nancy scoffed. “He wouldn’t do that.”

Steve tilted his head. “You’ll find I still be pretty persuasive when I want to be. And who is he going to believe? Co-captain of the swim team or little Miss Priss?”

Her jaw dropped.

“That’s what I thought.”

And he walked away.

****

Part 5

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#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #gay steve harrington #boy with a bat

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starlordsandrockets · 1 year

Text

The Bet

pairing: college!Peter Parker x Reader: 18+ , fake dating

word count: 9k

summary: You find yourself in attendance of a Gala with Peter Parker as your (fake) date. The two of you end up making a bet: Peter tries to make you fall for him by the end of the night.

a/n: sorry, i found myself in the worst case of writer’s block i’ve had in awhile. ANYWAY, i hope this makes up for it

“All I’m saying is that you’re going to look ridiculous,” Tony spoke. The rim of an almost empty glass of whiskey sat against his smiling lips, “Even Nat’s bringing a date and you two are two sides of the same coin. I don’t see how you can’t put up with a man for just one night,” Your gaze made him choke on his drink slightly, “or, or a woman?” He questioned, unsure of the reason for your deadly glance.

“I-I could get a date,” You stuttered, bringing your own glass to your lips. You crossed your legs, the black dress sat tightly against your knees. A pair of equally dark heels sat on your feet. The shoe dangled off your elevated foot, “I just chose to go stag, more of my vibe, you know,” You laughed it off.

“You’re a real lone wolf,” Tony spoke, “Are those still called bitches? Or is that just dogs?”

“Fuck off,” You groaned, finishing off your glass, “I’ll find a guy at the gala, alright. Spare me,”

“No, spare me,” Tony spoke, placing a hand on his chest dramatically, “Stark bringing along a virgin of an intern. All brain and no game,” He almost slurred, “But I guess that modest dress makes you kind of sexy in a mysterious way,”

“Forgive me for not breaking out my little black dress,” You told him, “It’s a gala. At an art museum, it’s not like we’re going to some night club”

“Oh, we’re not?” Tony questioned, “Then why are you totally pregaming with me right now,” He poured you another glass of whiskey with a shit eating grin.

“It’s the only way I can deal with you,” You admit with a smile, “This way you get a little more tolerable,”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Tony spoke, raising another glass. However, his toast was cut short as someone caught his eyes, “Ah! Pete! Perfect, absolutely perfect,”

You turned your head, your loose, y/h/c waves twirling, “Come on, Mr. Stark,” Peter spoke, a sigh passed through his lips as he noticed Tony’s buzzed state, “There’s still like, an hour ‘til we leave,”

“Yeah! Perfect, enough time for you to have a drink with us,” Tony smiled, walking towards Peter. He took hold of Peter’s arm, dragging him into the lounge.

Peter wore a black suit, nothing fancy besides the luxury brand Tony had paid for. His hair was gelled into place and it made you laugh to yourself, “What?” Peter questioned as he heard you almost giggle. A subtle blush sat on his freckled nose. A drink found a way into his hand as he stared at you, “Mr. Stark, you know I won’t feel a thing from this,”

“Humor me, kid,” Tony spoke, “Er- us,” He motioned towards you.

You were reclined on Tony’s expensive couch as you bounced the heel that sat loosely on your foot, “Please, I’m being held here against my will,” You spoke, making Peter smile. You extended your arm, placing it on the back of the couch. Stretching, you pinched your shoulder blades without a thought. However, Peter’s thoughts were racing, the position pushing out your chest, drawing all of Peter’s attention to you. He did not think you could consume any more of his thoughts than you already did, but here he was. Knocking back whatever liquid was in the glass Tony had given him, he swallowed it in hopes of also swallowing his dirty thoughts. As he expected, it did not work.

“Y/N needs a date tonight,” Tony spoke as you took a large sip, making you instantly choke. The action was not comical, like in the movies and books, but had you embarrassingly gasping for air and coughing up a lung, “As charming as she is in this very moment, do you think you could do me a favor and not let her show up like that,” Tony spoke, “She’s my intern and I’d hate to have her overshadowed by me, and Pepper, of course. So what better than my intern showing up with my totally-not-an-Avenger, and totally real intern,”

“Are you sure this isn’t another, against her will sort of situation?” Peter questioned as you continued to cough, physically unable to say no.

“She’s not objecting,” Tony placed his hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving him a drunken shake.

***

“After the carpet, I’m finding the drinks and leaving your ass,” You spoke, “I don’t care if people think I’m alone, okay.”

“Yeah… right,” Peter spoke as he sat next to you in the long limo. The two of you sat somewhat isolated from the others. The group was paired off and in their own world, leaving the two of you to realize just how alone you really were, “Me too, I wanted to come alone anyway,”

“Me too,” You added, repeating your previous claim. Your hand found the vodka cranberry that the limo’s bar provided, “I’ve always been alone,” You informed as you brought the glass to your lips, “Why start now,”

***

You felt your stomach turn as the camera flashed. You had yet to place a single one of your black heels on the red carpet of the gala and you instantly regretted the drinks you downed to calm your nerves, “Hell no,”

“You’ll be fine,” Peter spoke, “They probably won’t even bother us if Mr. Stark’s around, not to mention everyone else,” He spoke, “Literally everyone but us,”

“That makes me feel so much better,” You almost laughed, “Thanks,” Your word was blunt. You were used to being in others' shadows. You rushed before Peter, wanting to spend the night the way you were used to: alone.

“Hey,” Peter spoke, unsure how he had upset you.

Since Peter could remember, you had always been standoffish, never reaching out for company at the compound. Always shutting yourself off in the lab, you would get your work done and leave if it was not too late of a drive. You would crash on the couch whenever Tony refused to let you leave after 1am. Tony never wanted to feel guilt of you overworking yourself in the lab only for you to fall asleep at the wheel on your drive home.

Peter recalled the sight of you sprawled out on the lounge’s large couch, a blanket tossed over you as it barely covered your exposed skin. Peter could not help falling for you after he caught that sight more than a few times. He had helped you through a few too many drinks, holding your hair as you emptied your night into Stark’s million dollar toilet. Peter was unsure if you remembered nights like that.

Peter knocked into you, bringing him back to reality as you stood frozen in front of the flashing cameras, “You’re Tony Stark’s intern, aren’t you?” Someone from the crowd questioned, voice booming over the other shouts, “Is it true you work on the Avenger’s upgrades?” The man asked.

“Y/N calls all the shots for Avengers’ upgrades,” Peter spoke next to you. Your head spun, not only from the attention, but towards Peter, “I- They’d be lost without her,”

He was not wrong. You fixed nearly all the flaws you found in Spider-Man’s suit. They were only flaws due to Peter’s way of thinking. Tony had designed the AI with himself in mind and not Peter, “Smile,” Peter whispered in your ear, sending a shiver up your spine. You could barely see, the white flashes blinding you. Reaching out, Peter placed his hand on the small of your back. Your lips parted, about to snap a sarcastic remark at Peter’s advancement, however, you felt his clammy hold through your dress’s thin fabric, making you smile.

***

“So,” You said, “You’d be lost without me?” Your question teased Peter as the two of you finally made your way into the gala’s main room.

“I can admit it,” Peter spoke, “I don’t have some weird complex like you, or Mr. Stark,”

“Don’t compare me to Tony,” You told him, still a little buzzed from not only the alcohol in your system but also the camera flashes, “God, if I get that bad kill me,”

“If you didn’t fix my suit, I might have by accident,” Peter admitted. He had eventually gotten the hang of his suit’s AI, however the changes you had made allowed him to fully master his potential, “but, yeah,” His words were smooth, “I would be lost without you, honestly,”

“Including now?” You questioned, now realizing you did not wish to face the night alone. Especially now that you have seen the amount of older men that would surely harass you if you found yourself alone, “so, leaving you behind would be a terrible idea,”

“Absolutely terrible,” Peter played along, a smile threatening to curl his lips. He knew your games and when you were hiding your true emotions, “I’m not sure if I could make it through this boring gala by myself. You’d be doing me a huge favor,”

“Yeah?” You questioned, “Then you owe me,” Your eyes searched for any amount of food you could ingest before you had more drinks to get you through the night.

“How is that fair?” Peter laughed, however, he had not made it known that he knew the facade you were putting up, “You know what, fine,” He gave in, “I owe you, whatever you ask,” As soon as the words left his lips he caught you smile, “No, no, no,” He rambled as he heard you laugh.

“Oh you can’t take it back,” You laughed, “This is going to be fun,” Peter followed you at your heels as you searched the huge gallery for food or drinks, “Maybe I’ll hold this over your head for a while,”

“Y/N,” Peter groaned, meeting your eyes. His regret faded as soon as he saw your smiling eyes and grinning lips. He was just glad that you were having a good time.

“Miss Y/L/N,” Your name was called out, attracting your attention as well as Peter’s to a man who seemed to be in his late thirties. He was cute. Peter must have read your mind, or maybe caught on to your swooning gaze, as his hand found the small of your back once again, “Pardon my interruption,” the man questioned Peter’s touch.

“No interruption,” You spoke, stepping out of Peter’s warm touch, “Just simply company, to get me through the night,” Peter stiffened at your words but your back faced him, unable to see the consequence of your claim, “Y/N Y/L/N,” You spoke, extending your hand.

The man smiled at Peter’s misfortune, “I’m glad to have caught you, I’m the gallery’s director,” He watched as your eyes lit up for a moment, “Phil Weston,” Phil introduced, “I was wondering if we could rent some of your work. Give you your own exhibition,” He watched as you stumbled over your thoughts before him, “Or should I be going through your assistant here?” He motioned towards Peter, “That’s what you are right?” He almost degraded.

“I’m a little more than that,” Peter spoke, unable to shine light on just how important he truly is. But you knew, he was sure you would back him up.

“Sure,” Phil spoke, “Well, Y/N,” Turning, he retrieved a tall glass from a woman who appeared behind him mid conversation. The glass of champagne made its way into your hand, your rings knocking against the thin glass. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small card, “Here’s my card,”

“Thanks Weston,” You smiled around the glass. Sticking the card between your two fingers, you flashed it to Peter, “Keep this safe for me,” You jokingly instructed, “assistant,” You heard Phil laugh as he departed.

“You’re ridiculous,” Peter spoke, not taking the card out of your grasp. The dark paper still waved in front of his face.

“Me?” You questioned with a bat of your lashes, with a smile you took a large sip of your drink.

“I know we’re playing a part here,” Peter spoke, “but you’re just standing there while that guy humiliates me,”

“I’m not playing a part,” You told Peter, “I call the shots, remember. And you owe me, I could have said something but then you’d owe me even more,” Alcohol coated your words as you studied the Avenger. A laugh bubbled between your lips as you began to tuck the business card into the small purse that sat at your side, “Forget it, Parker,” You informed, finishing off your champagne, “just help me find something else to drink,”

“I think you should eat something,” Peter spoke. Watching you walk away from him he reached out, taking hold of your wrist, “I mean, with how much you’ve been drinking,”

“Are you worried about me?” You asked with a sly smile, “I know you’re my fake date, but you don’t have to act like it,” Your eyes found a large table ordained with finger foods and drinks, “but I’ll humor you,”

“I just don’t want you finding yourself doing something you regret,” Peter spoke, thinking of Phil. He knew that you had more confidence when you drink. Hell, he hated it. You flirted with Peter almost every time you had one too many but in the morning the two of you could be mistaken as strangers, “Or make a complete fool of yourself,”

“That so?” You questioned as the two of you crossed the tiled floor of the museum.

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” Peter spoke from where he followed at your heels, “Little do you know, I have a decent amount of blackmail on half the compound. Sure it sucks that I can’t get drunk like the rest of you but, not going to lie, I think I have more fun watching you all make fools of yourselves,”

“What are you, a masochist?” You tease as you turn to him, drink in hand. You caught Peter’s stern glance, “Right, right,” You raised your free hand, retrieving a small sandwich, “See, food,” You stuffed the sandwich between your red lips, “Yum,” You spoke sarcastically, mouth full of food.

“How’d I land such a classy date?” Peter questioned, taking a drink from the table. He knew the alcohol would not affect his system but he did not want to look out of place.

“You wish you could land me,” You washed your food down with a large sip of wine.

“Ouch,” Peter spoke around his wine glass. He was unsure if he was just experiencing placebo from the wine but found himself speaking with newfound confidence, “I could land you… if I wanted,”

“Yeah?” You laughed, “I’d like to see that,” You admitted. You would be lying if you said you did not find Peter attractive. You have seen him at work, in the gym, you have seen him change in and out of his suit right in front of you. Peter might have not known but each time, you glanced at his toned body and mentally drooled. You would not mind if Peter pursued you, you just knew better. Peter was awkward and did not show much interest in you until tonight. He was just doing you a favor, keeping you company. He never spoke to you in the compound besides when he needed to, or when he said hello whenever the two of you passed each other in the large building, “But I know better,” You smiled, “know you better,”

“You think I won’t?” Peter questioned, watching you shrug your bare shoulders. He watched as another glass found its way into your hand, making his job a lot easier. You were a horny drunk and he was about to use that to his favor.

“Are you betting me?” You questioned almost excitedly, “Is this a bet? Please tell me you’re giving me another thing to hold over your head,”

“Sure, it’s a bet,” Peter spoke, taking another sip of wine, “But you have to be completely honest with me. No burying your feelings for me,” He informed, “Any time I ask, you have to tell me exactly how you feel,”

You almost gagged, but Peter was right, you should play fair, “Fine,” You rolled your eyes, feeling yourself begin to sway, “When’s the game start?”

“Right now,” Peter spoke, finishing off what was in his glass. Setting it down, he took yours from your grasp watching you shoot him an angry glance, “and you need to start off by telling me exactly how you feel about me,” His words were smooth, somehow forgetting that he normally had to build up the courage to just say hello to you but in this moment he was closing the space between the two of you, “I want to know what kind of a chance I even have,”

“I don’t think you have to work too hard,” You smiled, your lips beginning to numb. You stared up at Peter. Your eyes were able to count almost every freckle on his boyish face and god did you want to kiss them. Kiss him, even, “I’m kind of drunk,”

“Yeah,” Peter smiled, “I figured that much Y/N,” He whispered as if it was a secret.

“And it’s making you look cuter,” You whispered back, watching your words shoot through his heart like an arrow, freezing him in his tracks, “Even cuter than before,”

“Good to know,” Peter muttered to himself as he watched you take the wine glass back from his hand, your fingers brushing against his clammy hand.

***

“How’s the lone wolf holding up,” Tony questioned as he had excused himself from a conversation Pepper found herself in; checking in on you and Peter, but mostly you. Tony’s eyes followed you as you swayed, Peter’s hand supporting your lower back, “I see you’re holding her up,” He motioned towards Peter as you took another sip of wine, “How much has she had,”

“I lost count, but you know her,” Peter spoke, “She’s almost as bad as you,” He somewhat joked, watching Tony smile.

“I’m fiiiinne,” Your voice drew out, “I’m just bored, so I’m drinking. Sue me,” You groaned, turning to Peter, you studied him and how close he stood next to you, “Can we go dance,”

Peter’s eyes widened as he met Tony’s gaze. Tony sent him a suggestive gaze, “Yeah Pete,” He smirked, “You two should go dance, that’d be a much easier way to hold her up,”

“Pleaase,” You almost begged, “I can’t drink if I’m dancing,” You set your glass down, throwing up your hands in your defense.

“I guess that’s true,” Peter agreed, “Excuse us,” He spoke to Tony who sent him a lovey-dovey look, “Mr. Stark, please,” He muttered, leading you away from Tony and to the gala’s live string quartet.

“I love the violin,” You drunkenly gushed, “I’ve always wanted to play,” You twirled out of Peter’s hold as you entered the floor, bumping into a couple who slowly swayed to the sound. A laugh bubbled from your lips.

“I’m sorry,” Peter spoke, “Sweetheart, be careful,” He played along with your roles for the night.

“Hm, sweetheart?” You questioned as his hands fell against the fabric of your dress, “Out of all the pet names, you pick sweetheart?”

“What? You want me to call you dear? Like we’re sixty and unhappy,” Peter’s claim made you laugh, “I know better than to call you baby,” He spoke quietly, watching your nose wrinkle, “That’s what I thought,”

“It’s just so formal,” You teased, “I thought the gala was formal enough, but sweetheart? I’m swooning, darling,”

“Ah, darling,” Peter spoke as you brought a new pet name to light, “I still think sweetheart fits you,” The two of you moved in sync without a second thought as your conversation could barely be heard over the romantic strings.

“I know,” You smiled, “I’m a delight, the sweetest at the compound,” You played along.

“No,” Peter continued, “I think that’s Mr. Stark. But you’re a close second,” He spun you in his hold. His eyes studied you as you twirled before him, your hair bouncing as you smiled, a laugh falling between your lips. Your red lipstick no longer sat evenly on your skin from the amount of drink you had. Peter wondered if he should tell you, wondering if you wished to reapply the seductive red shade, however his eyes took you in instead, “You’re pretty,” The words slipped almost silently past his lips.

In an attempt to cover his claim, Peter pulled you back in, making your head spin. His action was quick, or so you thought, maybe you were just drunk, “Did you- did you just?” You stuttered, somehow his quiet claim made your heart flutter slightly. Peter’s dominant hand left the small of your back as it found its way to the side of your neck.

“How do you feel about me right now?” Peter questioned, it took everything in him to hold your eye contact, his body begging his gaze to fall to the necklace that sat against your skin.

You stared into his brown eyes, his gaze reflected sickly sweet puppy love back into your lone glance, “You called me pretty,” Was all you managed to speak, lost in Peter’s imploring gaze.

“Yeah… yeah I did. And how’d that make you feel?” Peter questioned, “Do you like it when I call you pretty?” He was no longer hesitant, realizing you probably will not remember most of the night, in the morning. Peter stared at your stunned expression, taken aback by his words, “You’re not saying no,”

“I’m just-“ You stuttered. The room twirled and you were unsure if it was from your moving feet or Peter’s sweet words. Returning to Peter’s hold, your hand fell to his chest defensively.

“I-I didn’t think you could get any prettier,” Peter spoke, words intertwining with the playing strings. Clearing his throat, he attempted to recover from his stuttered claim. Although he we determined to win your bet, you always managed to make him nervous, “Your hair looks nice curled and your eyes,” Peter rambled, “Your eyes are somehow making me more nervous than usual,” Your gaze was soft and intent, “and your dress,”

“Spare me,” You spoke, “Tony already gave me shit,” Your fingers fell from the fabric of Peter’s suit, touch trailing. Hand falling, it smoothed over the curve of your hip, “I guess I should have gone shorter,” Your eyes found a handful of women in short dresses.

“No-” His voice was almost desperate, “no- I mean. I like this dress,” He watched you raise your brows, eyes narrowing. Peter pulled you closer to him, building up the courage to express his next claim, “I’d rather think about what’s under it,” His voice was somehow smooth, “rather than seeing you in a short dress,”

“Y-Yeah?” You questioned, looking up at Peter’s blushed complexion. You felt your system warm, the alcohol still having an effect over you, “Want to see what’s under it?”

“W-What?” Peter questioned, his dancing pace slowing, “Y/N,” He laughed nervously. You were doing it again, being a horny drunk, “You’re drunk,”

“And you’re winning,” You admitted, “as much as I hate to say it,” The two of you stood on the dancefloor as the others danced around you. Your hands found their way to Peter’s chest, snaking up to his neck until your fingertips brushed against his warm cheeks, “You’re hot,”

“Y/N,” Peter spoke your name, as if he was trying to make sure that all of this was not a dream.

“Bathroom,” You interrupted.

“What?” Peter questioned, wondering if he heard you correctly, “Bathroom?” He watched you nod, feeling nerves rush through him, thinking all that alcohol finally caught up to you, “Yeah- yeah okay,” He helped you navigate your way off the dancefloor.

“Slow down,” You spoke, a little out of breath from keeping up with Peter’s gate in your heels.

Peter felt your fingers tickle against his skin, not realizing he had grabbed your hand to lead you through the crowds. He felt his confidence begin to crumble as he grew further and further away from the crowd.

The two of you traveled down the museum’s large stairs to the lower galleries and bathrooms. You felt the room begin to spin as you attempted to navigate the large concrete steps, “Shit,” You laughed, “These stairs are going to kick my ass,”

“Here,” Peter spoke, his hand fell from your hold. Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around you.

His hold steadied you but equally weakened your knees. Peter’s fingers dug into your shoulder as you looked towards him.

“What?” Peter questioned. Your gate slowed as you studied his face. You never thought he could get more handsome, but here he was helping you down a large staircase like you were some princess in a giant castle.

Did that make him the prince? Of course it did.

“I’m fucked,” You laughed, your claim was under your breath, however Peter’s hearing still picked up on it.

The claim, unknown to him, was because you found yourself falling even harder for him; however, he thought you were about to get sick. Slipping his free hand behind your knees, he easily scooped you up, literally sweeping you off your feet.

“What are you-“ You felt your face heat up at the sudden advancement, “What if someone sees- there’s cameras-“

Peter did not respond, he was far too focused on getting you to the bathroom. The remaining flight of stairs passed quickly under his shiny black shoes. Turning the stair’s corner, he brought you to the bathroom door that was tucked under the concrete stairs.

“What-What was that?” You questioned, hands gripping Peter’s shoulder, while the other found his hand that gripped underneath your thigh.

“I- What? What do you mean?” Peter questioned right back, “I thought you had too much to drink,”

“I just wanted to freshen up,” You stared back at him, realizing just how close the two of you were.

“Oh,” Peter spoke, embarrassment reddened his ears as he stared right back at you. Walking towards the wall, he pressed your open back against the concrete wall.

“Pete-“ You vocalized as the cold wall touched your heated skin. Your back arched away and towards him in his hold. Realizing your tone, your gaze fell to the floor.

Peter watched as your chest rose and fell heavily in front of him. The skin of your chest was peaking out with each intake, and it silently begged for his lips. He wanted to kiss you- well, he wanted to kiss you every moment he spent with you- but especially in this moment. Rounding his shoulders he brought his face in front of your downturned gaze. He grew closer and closer with each passing moment, eyes fixed on your own. He breathed a shaken breath, palms growing sweating as he inched closer to your lips.

Like ripping off a bandage, Peter was quick and rough. His lips pressed against yours, pushing you against the museum’s wall. You groaned against him in response to the impact, before kissing him back slightly. However, before you could fully reciprocate, you heard a pair of heels descending the stairs.

“Peter-” You stuttered against his lips, hands pushing against his chest. You buried yourself further into the wall in an attempt to escape his advancement, “Get- Let go-” You watched as your words finally registered in Peter’s brain, his hands dropping you to the floor. You struggled to keep your balance in your black heels. Without a thought, you turned and rushed off into the bathroom.

You placed your hands on the porcelain sink as you stared at yourself in the mirror. If you were not wearing makeup you would have probably splashed your face with cold water, or hell, you would have even slapped some sense into yourself. Suddenly the sound of the bathroom door made you stand up straight. You did not dare to turn your head, to check if it was Peter. You watched as a woman, a little older than you, smiled at you through the mirror. You gave her a weak smile in return, head still spinning in response to the kiss.

You needed to pull yourself together. You were slipping right into Peter’s grasp, not that it was a bad thing, you were just way too competitive. You wanted to win. Opening your small purse, you removed your lipstick. As you applied the shade to your lips, you were far too lost in thought. Staring back at yourself, you were surprised to see that you had mindlessly applied the satin formula.

The woman who had made her way into the bathroom now stood next to you at the sinks. You rubbed your lips together, blending the color evenly, “Having a good night?” You questioned her, preparing yourself for any conversation you would have with Peter.

“Oh yes,” She smiled, washing her hands gingerly, not wanting to bump her diamond bracelets against the porcelain, “I’m sorry for asking- you probably hear this a lot but, what is it like working for Tony Stark?”

Peter rocked up and down on his expensive dress shoes. You were taking fairly long. Peter had already calmed himself down in the men’s room after your heated kiss. But now, he knew he would have had time to relieve himself instead. What was wrong with him? It would not have been the first time he had touched himself to the thought of you, but it still felt wrong.

He kicked at the concrete floor, frustrated that your kiss was interrupted so quickly. Suddenly, Peter was pulled out of his thoughts as you exited the bathroom with the woman. You laughed beside her as you locked eyes with Peter, “It was a pleasure talking to you, Y/N,” The woman smiled, lightly setting a hand on your arm, “I’m sorry for keeping her,” She spoke to Peter.

Peter nodded out of courtesy as the two of you watched her climb the large stairs, “What was that about?” Peter questioned, taken aback by the sound of his own voice.

“Oh,” You spoke almost too casually, “She was asking me about Tony. Wanted to know what he’s like outside of the public eye, you know?”

“Yeah?” Peter laughed slightly, “I can imagine you only said nice things,” He joked, knowing how you and Tony bicker, “Obviously,”

“Oh of course,” You joked back. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. You watched Peter laugh beside you, leaning into you, and that is when you remembered the kiss. You must have visibly stiffened because it caused Peter to freeze as well.

“Y/N,” Peter spoke, watching you hesitate to meet his eyes.

You wanted to touch him, pull him against you and into the kiss that was so rudely interrupted. You wanted him to fill your free time, to watch his eyes squint whenever he smiled at your crude, dry humor, “You win,”

“What?” Peter questioned, laughing slightly. Then it registered, the smile faded on his lips and a slight red flush occupied his ears and cheeks, “Oh,”

“Yeah,” You nodded slowly, “It pains me to say it, but,” You groaned, “God I hate this,” You felt Peter’s fingers tickle the skin of your wrist. Your gaze flashed to the skin on skin contact and then the bathroom door.

“What?” Peter questioned again.

“Peter,” You motioned towards the door with your eyes.

“W-Wha- No! Y/N,” Peter stuttered, “No,” His voice was assertive as you almost pouted in front of him.

You bounced on your feet, silently pleading with him. He stood his ground, “Fine. But maybe I’ll change my mind later,”

“I don’t think you will,” Peter spoke, watching you physically wither, “Come on,” He took your hand and began to lead you up the staircase. You reluctantly followed at his heels, dreading what was to come next.

***

You have made it through three separate conversations with complete strangers, all while Peter’s hand rested on the small of your back. To make matters worse, you now locked eyes with Tony. The fake smile that once parted your lips completely faded in his presence, “The kid still needs to be holding you up?” Tony teased as you gave Pepper a genuine smile.

“Pepper, I don’t know how you put up with him,” You spoke, “Sadly I’m sober,” Tony raised a brow at your statement, watching Peter’s hand return to his side.

“I’m surprised she didn’t bite your hand off,” Tony smiled as a woman approached your group with a tray of champagne, “Thank you,” He spoke to her before he passed the group glasses. He brought his lips around the rim of the thin glass, “You starting to warm up to my intern?”

“He’s tolerable company,” You smiled back, taking a large sip of champagne, “Couldn’t say the same about you though,” The tension between you and Tony hung in the air as Peter and Pepper both apologized to each other silently.

“Why don’t we get some air,” Peter suggested, hand returning back to you. He watched you finishing what remained in your glass before giving him a pressed smile.

“Sure,” You nodded, “Nice seeing you Pepper,” Your eyes did not dare fall over to Tony. You watched his hold tighten on Pepper as Peter’s did the same to you.

The two of you made your way towards a secluded exit, avoiding the paparazzi that waited for everyone outside, “Can’t you just play nice for a night?” Peter questioned after your long silence.

“It’s not like- He does that shit on purpose,” You spoke, motioning back towards the door you found yourself outside, “He always has something to say- something to get under my skin. And it’s not like you stepped in and told him to stop,”

“I like seeing you all worked up,” Peter spoke, not realizing how his claim sounded until it passed through his lips. You looked up at him, “Not- Not in a weird way- Well-“ He stuttered. Peter did like it in a weird way. He liked seeing you flustered.

You watched Peter stumble over his words, his gaze falling off of you, “Mm,” You hummed, your tone was teasing.

“I said not in a weird way,” Peter spoke, watching you lean into his, studying his blushed skin, “Y/N,”

“How then?” You questioned, “I’m dying to know,” Bringing your fingertips to a hair that hung against his forehead, pushing it back into his gelled hair, “Your hair looks so dumb,” You teased.

Taking your wrist, he brought you around the building’s corner, out of sight from anyone who would exit the door. He listened to your mumbled complaints before he took hold of both of your arms. Peter pushed you against the concrete building. The cool surface made you hiss before Peter’s hands snaked up your arms to your face. He cupped your cheeks roughly as he brought his lips to yours for a second time.

And you were so glad he did.

Your hands found his black tie, tugging on it. You loosened the fabric, feeling Peter sigh out of relief. You do not know why you started undressing him, but now your fingers fumbled against his white shirt’s small buttons, “Hey, hey,” He almost laughed against your lips, “Slow down,”

“I just want to touch you,” You admitted, pushing aside the white fabric, studying the soft skin of his neck and chest.

“I thought you loved Prada,” Peter joked. He watched you study the suit. Your eyes scanned his body before falling right back to his skin. Little did you know, Peter had asked Tony specifically for a Prada suit after he heard you obsessing over their latest campaign.

“I-I do.” You spoke, “But… I told you- You win,” Your hands held both sides of his shirt’s collar, “Swing me somewhere,”

Peter watched as you pulled yourself closer, your eyes studying his lips. He was clearly an idiot, not acting on impulse. Peter had wanted you for so long, and he hated how this was all happening now, “I, I don’t have my suit on me,” He rambled, watching you pout in front of him. Words mumbled past your lips as you tried to protest, “It’s not like I can just swing you off as Peter Parker, Y/N, I’m an intern tonight. Right? So I can’t just swing you through the city to do whatever I want to you,”

The words fell from Peter’s lips, making yours curl into a subtle smile, “What would you do?”

“What?” Peter questioned, watching you lean back against the building.

“You’d do whatever you wanted to me?” You repeated, “What would you do to me?” Peter stood, disheveled in front of you. His once pressed and buttoned shirt was wrinkled by your hands.

Peter took a step back from you, “Please,” He mumbled, fixing the collar of his shirt. Your eyes studied him before wandering, “What?”

That is when you spotted Tony’s empty limo.

“Y/N,” Peter’s voice warned as you took hold of his wrist.

“Please?” You questioned, dragging him towards the parked limo.

“Someone will see,” Peter argued back, however, he still allowed you to drag him into the lot of limos and cars.

“Yeah, in a self driving, tinted, bomb and bullet proof limo,” Your words were sarcastic and the two of you neared the limo, “Friday,” You spoke, reaching out to the limo’s hidden keyboard.

“Y/N,” The system responded, “How may I be of service?”

“Unlock the limo please,” Your hand slipped from Peter’s wrist to his sweating palm.

“Mr. Stark has installed a security protocol for you entering the limo,” Friday explained, making you scoff, “The question is: Who is the world’s greatest boss?”

Your lips pressed into a line as you dreaded answering the question, “Tony Stark,”

“Incorrect,” Friday spoke, making you groan out loud.

Your hold on Peter’s hand tightened, “He made me say it and then- and then he just made the answer some bullshit I won’t figure out-“ You felt Peter’s fingers slip between your own, calming you for a moment, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Hey, Friday,” Peter spoke, “Hey. It’s- It’s me, Peter,”

“Hello Peter,” Friday spoke.

“Yeah, h-hi. Would you be able to let us in please?”

“Of course, Peter,” The two of you watched as the limo door opened.

Turning towards you, Peter studied your annoyed expression, “Still want to go in?” He questioned with sweaty palms.

“I’m not letting Tony kill the mood,” You scoffed, bending your shoulders in order to enter the low limo, “I bet he planned this,”

Peter followed you, listening to your mumbled complaints, “Friday, could you go offline? Please?”

”Of course Peter,” The system spoke, “All audio and video recording will be offline until further instructions,” You whipped your head towards Peter, pampered hair twirling slightly, “Uh- Unless you don’t want to do anything anymore,”. He felt his heart rate begin to accelerate as you crawled towards him on the leather seat.

“I thought there was so much you wanted to do to me,” You teased, watching Peter’s shoulders stiffen slightly, “Unless you don’t,”

“I do,” Peter spoke at an embarrassing rate, “I mean… yes,” His words slowed as he studied the fabric of your dress. His gaze trailed over the dark fabric until it found your neckline, the fabric dripping as you leaned in front of him. Peter quickly brought his eyes to yours, not knowing which sight made him more nervous.

“Okay,” You responded. Picking up your knee, you brought it over Peter’s legs. You slowly lowered onto his lap, “This okay?” You felt as if your heart could pound out of your chest.

“Yeah,” Peter chuckled nervously. Your actions were killing him and he did not know if he would be able to hold back. Peter felt the weight of you on his lap, hoping you would not feel just how hard you were making him. Bringing his hands to your thighs, he pushed past the soft fabric of your dress. The fabric pooled around his wrist as his hands trailed up your legs, “shit,”

“Peter,” His name fell quietly past your lips as you placed your hands on his chest, fingertips on his collarbones. You heard him hum in response to his name, “What- What are you going to do?” You attempted to keep up the act, however, being this close to Peter was making you crumble.

“R-Right,” Peter breathed out, feeling his lungs shake as he took in a sharp breath. He studied the skin of your neck as you stared at him. Peter closed the space between the two of you, lips finding the skin he had been studying. His kisses varied, some soft yet some hungry. Peter’s lips parted, his kisses becoming more sloppy as his fingers dug into your plush skin coaxing a whimper from your lips.

The limo air hung heavy with every heated kiss and breath the two of you exchanged. Bringing your hand to Peter’s head, your fingers took hold of his hair. You pulled him away from your neck before you brought your lips to his. Your kisses were equally as hungry and making up for lost time. Hands still exploring his hair, you raked through the gel that held it in place.

You let out a sigh of relief as you messed with Peter’s gelled hair. A slight smile curled on your lips as you kissed him, “What?” Peter questioned, lips not even an inch away from yours. His eyes studied your smile, teeth appearing between your lips.

“Your hair,” You spoke, leaning back to study it, “Did Tony tell you to wear it like that?”

“N-No,” Peter replied, “I always put gel in. I just used more this time,”

“Yeah well,” You played with a piece of hair that hung out of place, “I like it better like this,”

“Yeah?” Peter smiled.

“Mhm,” You hummed, fingers running through his locks.

“Then I guess I’ll have you do my hair for the next gala,” Peter added.

“Okay,” You answered quietly, eyes now falling to his lips.

“Alright,” Peter smiled, leaning back into you. His lips found yours once more, finding the rhythm the two of you previously shared.

Peter had no idea how he ever survived this long without kissing you. The feeling of your body and lips pressed against him was enough to drive him insane. He melted against you, fully giving into you. His touch continued to trail up your skin, fingers now tracing the curve of your hips and waist, “Y/N,” Peter breathed out, “Are we doing this? Because I feel like I’m losing my mind-“

“Y-Yeah,” You stuttered, coming back to reality, “We better hurry before Tony realizes we’re gone,” You watched as Peter’s brows furrowed for a moment, “What?”

“I want to take my time with you,” He admitted, “I’m not really a quickie kind of guy,”

“Quickie? What are you, a teenager?” You teased slightly, “You can have me when we get back to the compound,” Peter’s gaze fell from your eyes to the tinted window out of embarrassment, “Yeah? Sound fair?”

“Yeah,” Peter spoke, hands leaving your waist and falling onto the fabric of his dress pants. The sound of his zipper made you realize that you were actually about to fuck him and none of this was a dream, “Let’s make this quick then,”

You brought your lips to his in a rough kiss, pushing Peter’s back fully against the limo’s seat. You raised yourself off of Peter’s lap, allowing him to push the fabric of his pants down his thighs. Suddenly, you felt Peter’s finger push your underwear aside, finger running through your wet folds. This caught you off guard, making you jump, body freezing against him.

“You’re so wet,” Peter almost laughed, “How long have you been like this?”

“The Prada got me pretty quick,” You admitted slightly.

“Yeah?” Peter smiled, “It wasn’t the fake dating?”

“S-Shut up,” You stuttered as Peter’s touch returned for another swift motion between your legs, “We d-don’t have time for this,” You spoke, hoping Peter’s teasing would cease as embarrassment flooded your cheeks.

“Right, no foreplay,” Peter spoke, “Not that you seem to need it right now,” He teased, watching your brows furrow, “Right, right,” Peter spoke, pulling a condom out from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

“You, you brought a condom?” You stared at the foil in disbelief, for some reason Peter’s action stirred the butterflies that sat in your stomach.

“Y-Yeah,” Peter admitted, “I have one on me if I ever think I have a chance with you… and also when I don’t,” Opening the condom, he attempted to distract himself from your quiet laughter above him.

The laughter continued to bubble past your lips. You were not laughing at Peter, but at how stupid you were for waiting this long to act on your feelings. Somewhere between your laughs, Peter had rolled the condom down the length of his dick.

“What?” Peter questioned your laughter as he pushed the fabric of your underwear aside.

“N-Nothing,” You stuttered, catching your breath from your laughs, “I just- I feel like I don’t deserve you,”

Reaching out, Peter covered your mouth. He somehow felt himself grow even harder as the claim left your lips. His dick bounced, attracting your gaze. You felt your face heat up as you took in the sight before you.

Removing his large hand, Peter caught you in a heated kiss. It was a kiss by definition, however it was sloppy and hungry with barely any rhythm to it. As you lost yourself in decoding it, Peter had lined himself up underneath you and began to enter you.

“S-Shit,” Peter stuttered at how tight you sat around his dick. You were so wet for him and he entered you easily, “fuck,”

“P-Peter,” You returned his stuttering, his name falling past your lips as you felt the size of him, “God- shit, you’re big,”

“Right,” Peter laughed as you gave him the classic, cliche line. But he was big and you were not sure if you could thank the spider bite for that or not.

However, as the single thought crossed your mind, it soon left as Peter began to bounce you above him, his fingers digging into the skin of your thighs, “Ffffuck,” You moaned from the pressure of Peter’s hands combined with the rhythm he started.

“God you sound so pretty,” Peter groaned as his head tilted back against the seat’s headrest. Your hands, once bunching the fabric of his dress shirt, now traveled to his collar. Your fingers fumbled to unbutton his shirt, hungry for the sight of his soft skin.

As soon as the skin of his chest was visible, your shoulders rounded and lips attached to his collarbone. His skin passed your lips as your teeth marked him, earning a moan from his parted lips.

“Y/N-“ The pain from your mark making only made Peter thrust into you harder and faster, “shit,”

Your hands fell to either side of Peter’s head, holding onto the seat as Peter fucked you. Peter was still holding back, but at this strength, you were still going to be hurting in the morning. You bit into the skin of his shoulder, trying to suppress your moans that only grew louder; screams threatening to replace them, “P-Peter-“ You somehow attempted to speak his name.

“I-I,” Peter almost stuttered, “hate to say it but I’m really close,” He watched as you pulled your face out from his neck, now studying him. He was falling apart below you, everything about you making him weak. Somehow, he felt as if he was becoming weaker just at the sight of you, “Y/N,”

Peter looked as if he was holding on for you, brows furrowed as his teeth dug into the skin of his bottom lip. As you studied his lips, you decided to bring yours to his jaw, showering him in kisses. Some were sloppy and some were rougher than others as you attempted to help Peter over the edge he was holding onto, “Want you to cum,” You whispered against his skin, “Cum for me. Please?”

“S-Shit,” Peter breathed out. The curse rang with a slight laugh as you relieved him. With a few more rough thrusts, Peter filled the condom that was deep inside of you, “I-I wanted to last longer,” He informed, however his claim was cut short by your lips finding his own.

“Later,” You reminded him, “If you still want to-“

“I do-“ Peter interrupted. Clearing his throat at his desperation, he spoke again, “Yeah, yeah I’d like that,”

“Yeah,” You smiled, “I’d like that too,” You studied him as you still sat on his lap. However, that is when you remembered where you two were, “Shit-“ You raised yourself off of his lap. A shutter traveled through you as Peter quickly exited you.

“W-What?” Peter questioned awkwardly as the filled condom fell against the fabric of his shirt. Pulling it off of his dick, he tied it off before tossing it in the limo’s trash.

“How long has it been?” You questioned, nervousness rushing through you at the thought of the gala being over.

Your question made Peter’s shoulders round, wishing the limo’s seat would engulf him, “Was… was I that bad?”

“What?” You questioned as you collected yourself, looking out of the limo’s tinted window, “Wh- No- No. I-I meant how long have we been in here,”

“Oh,” Peter spoke, attempting to make himself look presentable as well, “We should get back to the gala, “Hey- hey Friday, could you come back online please,”

“Of course Peter,” The system spoke as you placed your hand on the limo’s handle.

“W-Wait- hold on I’m almost-” Peter spoke but his claim was interrupted by your low voice.

“Maybe we shouldn’t get out at the same time… in case anyone sees,” Your words were cautious as if you were dancing around an insult, “Anyone being like the media… or-”

“Or Phil?” Peter questioned quite quickly.

“You know what I mean,” You spoke back defensively, “We don’t need any attention drawn towards you or a Stark controversy,”

“I know,” Peter responded, however you were already halfway out of the limo’s door.

Stepping into the cool night air, you took in a sharp breath. You did not mean to hurt Peter’s feelings, but it was just second nature to you. You always said the wrong things and somehow found yourself in arguments, but Peter was the last person you wanted to upset.

“Needed to cool off?” You heard Tony’s voice call out.

“Not now,” You groaned, however you dropped the attitude as you saw the rest of the group not too far behind him, “Party’s over?”

“Yeah you missed it. Where’s Pete? Was he holding your hair after all those drinks?” Tony asked, eyes scanning for Peter. You walked back towards the limo, hoping to warn Peter of the group’s presence before they could catch up. Opening the door you stuck your head into the vehicle, “I’m surprised Friday even let you in there,” Tony spoke as he approached you from behind. He waited for a remark from you. After all, he programmed the question just to mention you, however you were silent. Sticking his head in, he caught the last glimpse of what exactly was going on in his limo.

You pushed Peter away, who as soon as you entered the limo had caught you in a quite passionate kiss, “Not- not now-“

“Do I even want to sit in this limo?” Tony’s voice questioned, making you jump away from Peter’s hold. You sat down, putting a seat between the two of you, “My limo, may I add. God, I don’t even want to think about what you two did in here. And where you did it”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter spoke, the group’s presence unknown to him after he stopped you in your tracks as you entered the limo to warn him, “We didn’t…”

“Yeah Pete, real convincing,” Tony looked around as he climbed into the limo, calculating where the safest place to sit might be, “Could you please just let me know if I’m about to sit in the splash zone or something,”

“I…I swear to fucking god,” You groaned, fingers now rubbing circles into your temples, “Can we all just get in and leave?”

“Why?” Tony questioned, attempting to hold eye contact with you as the rest of the Avengers piled into the limo, “Is there just something you’re dying to finish when we get back?”

“If something did happen tonight, shouldn’t you be glad? Took them long enough,” Natasha spoke, giving you a slight grin. Her red hair, once pulled back taut, now had a few loose pieces that fell against her cheekbones, “Plus, spare me. I’m getting a migraine from all that wine,”

“I’m trying to spare you” Tony spoke, fingers falling against his chest. Raising his opposite hand, he flashed the foil wrapper that sat between his fingers, “I don’t know what seat is safe,”

“Peter,” You groaned, covering your eyes as Tony tossed the wrapper towards you. You rubbed your temples as you heard Peter stutter from where he sat on your left.

“I mean,” Tony spoke, pouring himself another glass of whiskey from the limo’s bar, “I didn’t think you’d actually do it. Good for you kid, she’s way out of your league,” Taking a sip, he looked towards you. “So much for lone wolf,”

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midnightsxblue · 6 days

Text

UNDER THE WEATHER

carl grimes x reader

tags: fluff but warning for sickness!

masterlist here!

─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───

Living in the apocalypse, the only sort of sick you were ever worried about was getting infected. For some reason it’d never crossed your mind you’d actually maybe catch a cold or a fever until the prison. Even then you never got sick. The most you’d ever actually been ill was throwing up when you killed your first walker and you got a bit sniffly as the seasons changed.

Thankfully, Alexandria was the first place you actually gotten a cold at, which left you room to rest and get better without worrying about walkers n such. You didn’t worry much when you became sick, but Carl definitely did.

It’s not like you were extremely unwell, you had just a sore throat, unsteady body temperature, headache, all the annoying symptoms. You tried to act normal all morning as you were supposed to go on a supply run. You were exhausted though and it showed in your face. You arrived at the gates to meet with the group. Daryl, Rosita, and Aaron were waiting at the cars when you walked up.

“Where’s Carl?” You croaked out before clearing your throat. They all sort of consider the rasp in your voice before Daryl responds. “He’s comin. What’s wrong with you?” You try to act like you have no idea what he’s talking about. “What?” Before Daryl can respond, Carl arrives and taps your shoulder. You turn and greet him with a smile.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not going.” Rosita states, placing her hand on your forehead. “You’re burning up.” She adds. Carl looks to you and notices how pale you’re looking. He did look at you before but didn’t particularly think anything of it, he was excited to go on the run. “She’s right. I’ll stay with you.”

“No I’m going.” You complain, it’s practically a whine. “We won’t allow that.” Aaron chimes in. You release a sigh of frustration and look at Carl, realizing you’re definitely staying home for this one. “Such bullshit.” You roll your eyes and begin to walk back to the house.

“You’re welcome!” Rosita laughs and they begin to get in their cars, Carl behind you somewhat. “Hey we should get you checked out.” You hear him say. He speeds up a bit to catch up with you. “I’m okay I’d rather just go home.” You give him a small smile and continue to walk. “Well what’s wrong? I’ll try and get whatever you need-” You cut him off. “Carl it’s okay, seriously. I can handle myself.” Coincidentally, as you say this you feel an itch in your throat which prompts you to cough, turning into a chain of very violent coughing. How embarrassing.

“Yeah okay I’m gonna get the stuff you need.” Carl remarks concerned. You accept defeat and nod at him. “Fair. I’ll be at home.” You explain your symptoms and he nods, heading wherever he needed to go to find anything to help you. You go home in the meantime and change into comfortable clothes to sleep in. You grab a blanket as well as a comic and sit on the couch to wait for Carl to get back. He comes home about twenty minutes later with a bag in his hand. He greets you and goes to place the bag on the counter.

“Don’t get mad, but I told Denise to come check on you since you’re too stubborn to go to the infirmary.” Carl explains as he begins unloading random stuff from the bag he brought home. You look at him from the couch with a peeved look. “Seriously? The last thing I want is a checkup.” You frown. “It’s not a checkup if you know you’re unhealthy. Now just lay down and rest, I’ll take care of you in a moment.” He smiles. Your eyes linger on him for a moment before you continue to read your comic on the couch.

Carl later comes over with medicine that Denise told him would help with majority of your symptoms. Times like these made you appreciate being able to breathe through your nose regularly a lot more. Denise came over and checked on you as well to make sure your temperature wasn’t too high. After that you rested for a while.

“Hey.” You hear, feeling a nudge as your eyes are basically glued shut while you were napping on the couch. You pry them open to see a smiling Carl. “I made you soup.” You open your eyes fully and prop yourself up on the couch. You look at the coffee table to see a bowl of chicken soup and then back at him, sort of concerned. He wasn’t the best in the kitchen when it came to specific dishes. “Um…it was canned actually. Not sure why I lied but…yeah you can enjoy that.” He says awkwardly, you sort of giggle and he sits beside you on the couch.

“Aren’t you worried about getting sick?” You pull the bowl of soup onto your lap and stir it a bit. “I don’t care.” He responds shortly. “You don’t care?”

“Not if it’s because I’m taking care of you. You’re my top priority.”

You stare at him, sort of appalled that he cared that much. He was a great boyfriend, he was but…you never expected him to be that perfect. He stayed home from a supply run he was so excited to go to just because you were feeling under the weather. He isn’t making you feel bad about it either. There’s no way he can get any better than this. You find it a bit hard to respond to that but before you can muster up any sort of response, he continues.

“Anyway I asked around hoping people would spare some of their teabags since we’re out and so is the pantry. I got a few. Do you like honey?” You shake your head, still slightly appalled at the fact he’s putting this much effort in. He got up to go make your tea and you sit there silently as you eat your soup. He later comes back and sits next to you, placing the cup down on the table in front of you. “I hope I made it right. I had to ask Carol.” He giggles.

“Thank you.” You say genuinely. He kisses your forehead and then your cheek, not a care in the world if he were to get sick.

“No problem.”

─── ─── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ─── ───

a/n: hey guyss i’m feeling a bit better and i thought i’d try and write today and i was able to do it comfortably soooo woot woot! i don’t love it butttt i’ll live :) sorry it’s so short. (mac read this first.)

#carl grimes #carl grimes twd #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes angst #carl grimes the walking dead #the walking dead carl #twd carl #twd fanfiction #fanfic

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lilies-n-slander · 3 days

Text

just my unstructured thoughts on “complicated and sad”

I’m not huge on radiostatic and haven’t thought about the dynamic as much as other people so probably I’ll be retreading common ground

radiostatic friendship had to have broken up for smth more ideological, it would honestly be a bit boring/disappointing if it was just over the unrequited romance aspect (but it was likely a contributing factor)

the fact that vox asked alastor to join his team gives a few clues

I think atp vox still thought positively of alastor while alastor’s opinion of vox was starting to deteriorate. Vox respected alastor enough to *ask* him to join, rather than manipulate or try to force him

if that’s the case, then whatever vox did that alastor hated likely wasn’t malicious (but knowing vox, it was still a bad/harmful thing)

it seems like the kind of situation where alastor showed discomfort and vox refused to change and didn’t understand what he was so mad about

what could vox have done that alastor disliked so much that it ruined a previously good friendship?

using people? Alastor does that

owning souls? Alastor does that

killing people? Alastor does that

associating with and enabling ppl like val? Maybe? It seems like an arbitrary line to draw, altho one of the comics shows alastor killing an attempted rapist

influencing people’s perception of them through media? Alastor does that, but maybe it was the difference of method that he didn’t like (hypnosis vs charisma)

being fake? Alastor does that but is better at it than vox (smiling to hide weakness)

being weak*? (*not just physically) Now we’re talking. Alastor hates weakness, both in other people and himself. He hates when people let their composure slip and tries to exploit any weakness he sees. Maybe it disgusted him to see someone he thought was strong actually prove to be weak, insecure, and pathetic

a combination of the last three seems the most plausible to me (especially considering what things alastor disses vox for in stayed gone), but I’m still struggling to come up with something that has the right amount of “oomph” to it

I’m curious what alastor initially liked about vox in the first place?

did he only like him bc he thought vox was stronger than he actually was?

has vox just changed so much over the years that the vox alastor formed a friendship with was basically a different person? That would make me curious about what sparked that change in vox—was it a particular incident or gradual corruption?

does alastor hate modernity because of vox or does he hate vox because of his modernity?

leaning twds the former, the way alastor speaks abt tech has a personal tinge to it

most of vox’s hostility twds alastor is prob due to what alastor did as rejection

supported by vox not having much variety of his insults in stayed gone

yes he’s pathetic and might be salty that he doesn’t return his feelings, but I feel like that’s not the whole explanation

does “I thought he was gone *for good* too” imply that alastor has previously disappeared or been shooed away by the vees and came back soon after?

“he owes us a lot more than money” + “things have changed a lot since he left town… …I gotta send a message of who’s really in charge of things now” = before he disappeared, alastor was previously in control, possibly by sabotaging the vees and overthrowing them?

I didn’t rlly mention “still pissed he almost beat you that time?” bc that had to have been after the fallout, so not as much to dig into there (this isn’t to say that I don’t desperately want a flashback of it lol)

hmmmmmmmnfgh… so many questions

I really hope their backstory has already been mostly planned out, bc it seems like something that would go poorly if you just made it up on the fly

#hazbin hotel #vox #alastor #onewaybroadcast #.txt #meta

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fxckn-sxck-fr · 2 months

Text

𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

Yandere Dick Grayson x GN Reader

❥ Part I >> Part II >> Part III >> Part IV

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: This is basically just Dick metronoming between overly-coddling, emotionally distant, cool older brother, and scary. And also everyone collectively shaving 30 years off of Alfred’s life.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒: platonic sibling yandere content, older brother Dick Grayson, younger sibling reader, non-vigilante reader, adopted reader, slow burn yandere(?), the pacing is very a-day-in-the-life-esque, overbearing Dick Grayson, lowkey-infantilism, flu-shot/needles (barely mentioned), emotionally constipated Bruce, estranged father Bruce, Dick is a liar (his pants are indeed on fire), Dick just knows shit somehow, Dick’s lowkey a dick, scary Dick Grayson.

“It’ll just be a little poke, kid. You’ll be fine.”

As much as you wanted to roll your eyes at the man’s babying, you couldn’t find the courage to do so. It had nothing to do with the upcoming needle (well, thinking about it may or may not have made you the tiniest bit apprehensive, but that’s besides the point). Rather, for the past 30 minutes or so, you’ve been haunted by the words of the lady at the front desk.

“A walk-in for flu shots today?”

A walk-in.

Dick said this was an appointment.

The whole reason why you were missing school today was because of this appointment. Dick scheduled it under the pretense that it was a Saturday rather than a Friday, and that’s why you were running around doing errands with him all morning instead of making up that damn world history test. So why the hell did she call it a walk-in instead of an appointment?

Of course, while you so desperately wanted an answer, there’s no way in hell you were asking; not after whatever… that… was earlier.

The absence of your response must’ve been translated as nervousness. “Hey,” Dick softly began, “it’ll be okay. I’ll be right here, alright?”

Before you could even think of what to respond with, the doctor walked in with a trey of needed utensils. When it was set down on the counter, you spotted the needle and packet of alcohol wipes, and you couldn’t help but quirk a brow at the array of different bandaids. There was the typical neutral type, but there was also ones with fun patterns, like rocket ships or flowers. The one with a classic comic book style caught your eye as the doctor began to talk.

“Sorry for the small wait,” she said, ripping open the packet of alcohol wipes. “Lots of people coming in for the flu shot.”

“‘Tis the season,” Dick chimed next to you.

You fought the urge to scoff at the doctor’s polite chuckle. Don’t validate his ego…

After instructing you to roll up your sleeve, she gently swabbed your upper arm with the cold alcohol wipe, the strong stench hitting your nose like a truck. Once that was done, she turned towards the counter to prep the needed, and you let out a small sigh. Once this was over with, you could finally go home and hide in your room for the rest of the day. It would finally grant you refuge from a whole day spent running around with Dick (he could be a fun guy, sure, but the awkward air of the morning was still lingering in the back of your brain, and you wanted some time to yourself to actually figure out what the hell the deal was).

A warm hand suddenly engulfed yours, causing you to flinch from surprise.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Dick assured, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “You can always squeeze my hand if you need to.”

Your teeth aggressively bit down on the inside of your cheek. There were many things you wanted to say — “dude, I’m not a baby,” “the coddling is so weird,” “what the hell is up with you” — but you held them back the best you could, barely even registering the small prick in your arm until the needle was being pulled out.

“All done,” the doctor announced. You watched her put down the syringe on the tray as she picked up the different assortment of bandaids. “Hope you’re not too old for fun patterns. I’ve got tiger stripes, flowers, stars, butterflies…”

You obviously picked the comic book one, which you immediately regretted after hearing Dick’s small chortle (was he seriously making fun of you for choosing the objectively coolest looking bandaid?). As soon as the bandaid flaps were carefully rolled onto your upper arm, the doctor told you that the soreness should last for a couple of days, and before you knew it, you were hopping off of the chair and ready to go.

“Told ya you’d be fine,” Dick cooed, one of his hands coming up to pat your head. As if that wasn’t enough to rub you the wrong way, the doctor had the nerve to giggle at you two. Why was she endorsing this bastard’s behavior?!

And it gets worse. Because of course it does. After her little schoolgirl giggle, she let out a humored awww. Like she found your torment adorable in some sick way. You weren’t even worried about this to begin with, so what’s with all the infantilism, huh?!

God, I just wanna go home…

He was out for the night; you had to double, triple check just to make sure. Hell, you even looked up the Nightwing-sightings Twitter account to confirm that he was, in fact, out of the house (fortunately, a video of him grappling to Bludhäven’s Orthodox Cathedral was posted 7 minutes ago, which meant he was on the other side of the city). When you were 100% absolutely certain that — beyond a shadow of a doubt — he wasn’t hiding somewhere in the apartment for whatever reason, you took a few deep breaths and conjured up the bravery to hit the “call” button on your phone.

… Beeeeeeeeep…

“Master (Y/N), is everything alright?”

A small sigh of relief left your lips. Alfred’s voice sounded fully awake, and you could even hear the clinking of dishes in the background of the call. Not even questioning why the butler was doing dishes at midnight, you tried to make your voice sound casual. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just wanted to check up on the manor.”

“It’s a rather rare night, here. For once, Master Bruce is asleep upstairs at this hour.” His tone then shifted to something more pointed. “Much like you should be.”

“And you,” you shot back. “Why are you awake if Bruce isn’t?”

“I’ve found myself working on The Batman’s schedule,” the old man explained, speaking over the squeak of a cabinet. “I usually don’t sleep for another couple of hours, when Master Bruce returns from his nightly activities.”

Well, that explains why breakfast is closer to lunch in Wayne Manor. Before he could return the question, you decided to cut to the chase. “Do you think it’d be okay if I tried to call him sometime? Or sent him a text?”

“I believe a call would be an excellent idea.” You could’ve sworn you heard a chortle on the other end. “A text would give him the leeway to procrastinate, and possibly never answer. It’s better to catch him off-guard.”

Something about having to surprise-attack your own adoptive father with a conversation made your chest feel heavy. While you figured out very early on he didn’t like socializing (must suck to be a playboy billionaire CEO and an introvert at the same time), did he really want to avoid talking to you that badly? Ouch…

“Well,” you awkwardly shifted on your bed, “when’s the best time to call him, then?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that,” replied Alfred. “But I’ll be sure to let you know when the opportunity arises. It’s about time the two of you actually talked, after all. Even if it’s just a simple hello.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. If you were reading in between the lines correctly, Alfred was suggesting that a call with Bruce at this rate would be a simple, “hi, how are you, how’s it going,” exchange. Which, okay, makes sense, considering your adoptive father may as well be a stranger at this point (you honestly wouldn’t be surprised if you had to reintroduce yourself to him), but that meant it was going to take a while before you could even consider asking him if you could move back into the manor.

Which meant you were stuck in Blüdhaven for an indefinite amount of time.

Okay, it’s not like living with Dick is the worst thing ever. He’s starting to get weird, sure, but all of your basic needs are met, and you’ve got the added benefit of having Nightwing as your older brother, probably making you the safest kid in Blüdhaven right now. If anything, you were being totally ridiculous right now; trying to get in touch with your reclusive adoptive father — who obviously wants nothing to do with you at the moment — just because you didn’t want to talk to Dick about his weird behaviors.

(In other words, you’re opting to avoid the problem altogether instead of addressing it. Why does that sound eerily familiar…)

But nevertheless, even before Dick started to get weird, you’ve been extremely anxious about your relationship with Bruce (or lack thereof). It’d be nice to put your best foot forward and try to make up for being a burden to him.

“I’ll take what I can get,” you sadly admitted. “I just hope I don’t make him upset.”

“I can assure you, Master Bruce would be more than thrilled that you’re reaching out to him.” Ah. So now Alfred’s reverted to lying to you. “Now, it’s about time you get some sleep, don’t you think? Master Dick would be most displeased that you’re taking up The Batman schedule yourself.”

You tried to ignore the way your stomach churned at the mention of Dick. “I guess so… goodnight, Alfred.”

“Good night, Master (Y/N). I hope your next call is at a more reasonable hour for the sake of your sleep cycle.”

And, with that, the call ended.

Just in time to hear the window in the living room open.

“The Flash.”

“Fortnite.”

“Superman.”

“Wordscapes.”

“Green Lantern.”

“Which one?”

“Uh… the one with the brown swoopy hair.”

“Halo.”

“Wonder Woman.”

“Minecraft.”

The sputter you let out almost made you lose your focus. “Wonder Woman plays Minecraft?!”

“Not often,” Dick elaborated, “she only started playing because she saw Donna has it.”

You spared him a glance, though quickly returned your attention back to the computer screen on your lap. “Who’s Donna?”

“Well, you might’ve known her as Wondergirl…” the way that Dick referred to her in the past tense made your heart drop, “but she’s been bouncing between Darkstar and Troia recently. Lots of people still call her Wondergirl.”

Oh, thank god. She’s not dead. “Didn’t take Wondergirl for a Minecraft player.”

“She wanted to play with the rest of the Titans,” was Dick’s simple reply. “We’re hoping she doesn’t check in with the server, though, cuz Wally accidentally blew up part of her house and I don’t think any of us have fixed it yet.”

“And Wally’s Kid Flash,” you presumed, barely registering Dick’s hum of approval after you watched your character get knocked off the track. “Should’ve known the Titans are a bunch of gamers.”

Dick chuckled. “I don’t know about all that. We don’t get to play with each other often, with how busy our lives are, but it’s a nice way to goof around during the holidays.”

“What do you guys play?” You had to fight the urge to let out a curse upon seeing you got 1st place stolen from you. Total bullshit. “Besides Minecraft and, y’know, Garfield Kart.”

“Okay, to set the record straight, I’ve only played Garfield Kart once.”

“Mhm.”

“And Wally thought it would be funny.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I figured it was fine to only spend 5 dollars on a game I knew I’d play once.”

“Why’s it still in your library, then?”

“Because I still spent money on it,” Dick retorted, his arms gesturing wildly in the air. “Might as well keep it just in case Wally wants us to play it again!”

“You’re getting oddly defensive about this.”

“Cuz it’s the truth!”

“Alright, then. Let’s see.” You dragged the mouse down to his dock and clicked on Steam, pulling up his library tab. “You have a total of 5 hours in Garfield Kart.”

“All from one night,” Dick tried to justify.

“You guys were playing Garfield Kart for 5 hours straight?”

“Roy was having connection issues!!”

“There’s no— I’m calling bullshit!!”

“I’m not making this up, I swear it’s the truth!!”

“Nah, man,” you were fighting through your giggling fits as best as you could. “I don’t believe it. 5 hours in Garfield Kart over connection issues??”

“I have witnesses!!” Dick started to fish into the pocket of his sweatpants for his phone. “I’m calling Wally right now. He’s gonna tell you the exact same shit, and you gonna formally apologize to me with a third party present to…”

Something on his phone screen made him trail off.

You at first thought it was because he couldn’t multitask between pulling up Wally’s contact information and talking. But his fingers weren’t doing anything, instead stagnantly clutching his phone. He looked to be reading something, like a notification on his lock screen. You watched in real time as his humored smile (a genuine smile, not a Richard Grayson smile), dropped into a deep frown. The switch up was enough to kill your own smile, brows knitting together as you asked, “what is it?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he muttered a curse under his breath and abruptly stood from his seat on the couch to make a b-line for his room. The door slamming shut caused your shoulders to jerk upwards, the sound echoing through your brain as you quickly put the pieces together; Nightwing was needed.

Low muttering came from his room — probably a phone call, though you weren’t a hundred percent certain on that — making you wonder just what the hell was going on. Was this a Gotham emergency? Titans emergency? Hell, even a Justice League emergency (if that’s the case, it’s a bit weird to think that Leaguers just text each other when they need back-up, but then again, you’re not entire sure what else they would do… there’s probably a whole system to it that you wouldn’t understand).

Dick’s bedroom door swinging up snapped you out of your thoughts, your pseudo brother now dressed in his Nightwing costume with his phone up to his ear. “I’ll call you back over comms. Just give me a minute, okay?” He then hung up, tossing his phone onto the couch and making his way to the window. “Duty calls, kid.” The pane of glass automatically slid open at his touch. “Leftovers are in the fridge if I come back late.” Before you could even ask what was going on, he jabbed a finger at you in an accusatory manner. “Stay put. You hear me?”

You thickly swallowed. “Try not to cause any explosions this time.”

A ghost of a smile danced on his features, and, within a blink of an eye, he was gone.

The apartment was eerily quiet now. Just a few minutes prior, you were laughing and carrying on about what games each Leaguer played, and now this happened. God, the vigilante lifestyle is one hell of a rollercoaster.

You’ve long forgotten about Garfield Kart, setting the laptop right next to where Dick’s phone landed on the couch. Instead, you tried to focus on taking deep breaths to keep your anxiety at bay. Dick was going to be fine. He’s always come home before, this time should be no different, right?

“I bet this is what Alfred thinks about Bruce,” you humorously thought out loud.

It’s probably what he thought about Jason, too.

… Not helping.

Taking another deep breath, you wrapped your arms around yourself and sank further into the couch. He’s going to be fine. If he’s coming in as backup, then that means he won’t be alone. Other heroes will have his back and make sure nothing bad happens.

“He’ll be fine,” you had to reassure yourself.

Everything’s fine.

Thunkthunk…

…

Thunkthunkthunkthunk…

…

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunk…

Okay, either a giant bug was trying to get into your room in the middle of the night, or someone was at your window.

Your first thought was to ignore it. What if it was a murderer or a robber? There’s no way in hell you’re about to find out when Dick still hasn’t returned. That’s when you remembered, oh yeah, Dick still hasn’t returned, and that very well could’ve been him. Why was he trying to get into your room instead of the easy-access, less conspicuous window in the living room? No idea. But you decided to risk it anyway, rolling out of bed to face the window.

Sure enough, sticking outside of the building like an overgrown spider was Blüdhaven’s very own Nightwing, his blue stripes shimmering under the full moon. You could slightly make out the sheepish expression on his face as he asked, “could you let me in?”

If your brain wasn’t still foggy with sleep, you probably would’ve been an asshole and toyed with him for a bit, but it was too late for that. Flipping the window’s switch, the locking mechanism came undone with a resonate click, and you pathetically struggled to slide the glass upwards (in your defense, Bat-certified security windows are kinda heavy). Sparing you from further embarrassment, Dick helped out on his end. You found it unfair that he was able to make it look easy with one hand.

“You’re home,” you tiredly noted, allowing relief to flood your senses. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, everything’s alright.” As soon as he took a couple steps forward, you realized that everything was not alright. He seemed to be favoring his left leg over his right, limping towards your bed and sitting himself down on it as gracefully as he could. “Just some business in Gotham, is all.”

Your brows furrowed at how dismissive he was. “What happened to your leg?”

He didn’t answer for a few moments, instead working on tearing his domino mask off (there was an inky black substance left around his eyes, and you wondered if it was some sort of adhesive for his mask or something like that). “Uh… nothing too bad. I’ll be fine in the morning.”

“Nothing too bad,” you flatly echoed. “What does that mean?”

“Minor scratch,” he half-heartedly replied.

“… Right.” You didn’t believe him, but you couldn’t see any sort of obvious dents or deformities to his leg, so at least there was that. “So, is the living room window broken, or…?”

“Jammed,” was his curt answer.

For whatever reason, his total vagueness was starting to get on your nerves. Not only is he keeping you in the dark about what happened in Gotham, but he’s obviously lying about his leg and now reverting to giving you one-word answers. You also didn’t like how nonchalant he was being, like this has been scripted and rehearsed several times (god, he must’ve been a menace for Bruce and Alfred back in the day).

“Probably should get that fixed, then,” you said through a yawn.

“Yup.” He even popped the p. What a jackass. “Was everything fine while I was away?”

Christ. Even when asking a how were things question he sounds so dismissive. Maybe it was just because he was so tired after a long day. You should probably stop assuming he does everything out of pure condescending intent and general assholery. “Yeah, every—”

The sound of your phone ringing cut your answer short. Before you could make a move, Dick leaned across your bed to inspect your device picking it up and reading the caller ID. “It’s Alfred,” he chirped. Now, you would think he would hand the phone over to you (you know, cuz you’re the actual owner of the device), but you were grimly reminded that Dick was still the biggest bastard you know when he answered the call himself, bringing it up to his ear and greeting Alfred with a simple, “yo.”

“Dick, what the fuck are you doing,” you whispered, hoping that Alfred couldn’t hear you curse from the other end. You reached for your device, but he easily caught your hand with his free one.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said over the line. He continued to talk with that stupid nonchalant tone, and from how Alfred’s voice bellowed out of your phone, you could tell the butler wasn’t having it. Attempted to obtain the device again, you swiped at it with your freehand, only for Dick to catch you off guard by pulling you towards his chest. You barely had time to start squirming before he locked you in place under his arm. “I’m fine, Alfred,” he said after he managed to finagle you onto his uninjured leg. “Honest. I am.”

Now that you were at a closer proximity, you could vaguely make out what Alfred was saying. “You had me scared to death, boy!! The least you could’ve done was answer your communicator, you know!!”

“Didn’t hear you trying to contact me,” he sheepishly replied, an almost chuckle spilling from his lips. “My comm must be jammed after the impact. Sorry, Alfred.”

First the window’s jammed, now his comm’s jammed. Why is everything jammed tonight?

… Also, what’s this about an impact?

“You’ve outgrown the manor and yet you’re still fixed on giving us heart attacks,” Alfred exasperatedly sighed. “Master Bruce was worried you were—”

“Hey, hey,” Dick reassured. “I’m okay, alright?”

You took this as an opportunity to speak up. “No, he’s not!! He did someth—gmgfhfmhm!!”

Dick partially stopped constricting your body to slam your face into his chest, muffling the rest of your sentence.

“… Master Dick, are you hurt?”

“No, Alfred.” A bit of venom laced Dick’s words, but he was quick to recover. “I’m fine. (Y/N)’s just being a little brat again.”

From the small beat of silence, you 100% knew Alfred was not buying Dick’s bullshit. But there wasn’t much the old man could do to call him out for it over the phone. “Well, then, how is Master (Y/N)? You seemed very worried over how they were—”

Dick didn’t even let Alfred finish. “They’re fine, but up way past their bedtime.”

… Wait a minute.

“Master (Y/N),” Alfred chided, this time directly talking to you. “What did I tell you about getting your proper rest?”

This. Mother. Fucker.

You tried to swivel your head out of his chest to A.) breathe again, and B.) give him a deadly glare. Why the fuck was he throwing you under the bus when he was the one that woke you up in the first place?! God, as soon as he lets you loose, you were gonna let him have it.

“It’sh no’muy fauh,” you defended, your words distorted from your cheek being smushed against Dick’s body. Unfortunately, Alfred still allowed his disapproval to shine through with yet another sigh, mumbling something about how everyone in this family is a hazard.

“Don’t worry, Alfred.” Dick shifted you on his lap so you were no longer being manhandled like a teddy bear. “I’ll get them to bed right now. Tell Bruce I’m fine, alright?”

“You should tell him yourself, boy!! He’s been trying to call you non—”

Dick then did the unthinkable; hang up on Alfred.

Oh, hell no. Absolutely not. You do not hang up on Alfred while he’s mid-chastising. Even if he’s a massive douche, Dick should know better than this, especially considering he was practically raised by the man.

So, as soon as he unceremoniously tossed your phone back onto your bedside table, you got vengeance on behalf of the butler.

CHOMP.

“OW!!” Dick unraveled his arm from your form, trying to rip his hand out of your mouth. “You little brat!! What the hell?!”

“Urr fveeinn uh pphrickhh!!”

Be some miracle, he managed to pry your teeth off of him, wiping the saliva off of his glove. “Care to repeat that, you vile creature?”

Spitting the taste of latex out of your mouth, you tried again. “You’re being a prick!! Why are you lying to everyone, huh?! I was worried, Alfred’s worried, Bruce is worried, and here you are, waving everyone off like it’s nothing?! What the hell even happened out there, huh?!”

Dick’s expression hardened. “(Y/N), it’s way too late for this.”

“No!! Don’t even do that!!” You shoved jabbed a finger into his chest. “You can’t come in here waking me up at… whatever the fuck hour it is right now and brush everything to the side!! You’re obviously hurt, dipped out on everyone over in Gotham without a word, have Alfred and apparently Bruce try to get in touch with you cuz they didn’t know what the fuck happened to you, and you expect me to not want any answers?! What’s your problem?!”

“My problem is that I have a high schooler yelling in my face like a 3rd grader,” Dick bitterly snapped. “People are trying to sleep right now, (Y/N)! What if you wake the one of the neighbors and they file a noise complaint?!”

“Wha— don’t try to change the—”

He grabbed your forearms tightly, catching you off guard and killing your sentence then and there. His tone got dangerously low as he pulled you closer to him. “I’m serious, (Y/N). Cut it out. Now’s not the time for this. Can’t you just listen to me for once?!”

… This was unfair. He’s trying to pull some intimidating authority bullshit on you, all to avoid actually answering you. It was so painfully obvious that’s what he was doing.

And yet, despite knowing that…

That look was back in his eyes.

It was the same coldness that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, vocal cords constricting as though your very subconscious was warning your brain to shut the fuck up as a self-preservation tactic. A ghost hand was creeping up your spine, sending electric signals of unease through your shoulders and into your skin.

Something was wrong again.

Something was so wrong again.

Even if you know this was all just some cheap intimidation tactic, it sure as hell was working.

“Fine,” you muttered, turning your head away so you didn’t have to continue eye contact with him. “But this isn’t over, okay?”

Dick didn’t have anything to say to that. Rather, he picked you up from his lap gently, setting you back down on your bed. “Get some sleep. Okay, kiddo? It’s been a long night.”

You merely hummed, watching him carefully. His calculating gaze — which still held that weird edge — scanned over your form before a certified Richard Grayson smile tugged at the corner of his lips. After a few seconds of just staring at you, he turned towards the door and began to limp out the room.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“… ‘Night, Dick.”

Your door squeaked open, then softly clicked shut.

After he was gone, it dawned upon you that you were holding in your breath. Allowing yourself the gift of oxygen, you flopped back down on your bed, mulling over the timeline of the day. Hours prior, Dick left for a Gotham emergency, must’ve done something to fuck up his leg (you recall him saying something about an impact to Alfred), left for Blüdhaven without telling anyone, ignored comms because they were jammed, woke you up because the Bat Door (the living room window) was also jammed, and then the phone call with Alfred.

And also him being weird again (the scary weird this time, not the coddling weird), but you didn’t really wanna think about that right now.

In fact, if you were being honest, you realized you were too tired to think about everything else, as well. It really has been a long day, and you weren’t even the one dealing with Gotham bullshit (no, your job was to deal with Bat bullshit… batshit). All this dismissive lying shit really tuckers a kid out.

So, as your eyelids began to flutter shut, you could only mutter one last thing;

“… What the fuck is happening.”

#❥ TW: YANDERE #❥ LIFE WITH OLDER BROTHER #❥ YANDERE CHARACTER #❥ PLATONIC YANDERE #❥ YANDERE DICK GRAYSON #❥ YANDERE DICK GRAYSON X READER

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ivestas · 1 year

Text

the lady of crime alley

Summary: Jason had heard rumors of a woman who ruled Crime Alley and all of its underworld connections, so he pursues her for a favor.

Tags: jason todd x fem!reader, canon typical violence, unedited

Word count: 1.2k

Notes: i’ve been on a red hood comic binge and i always thought his narration was corny in the best way, so i hope i was able to emulate that through this fic hehejejjejehe (also i use ‘tugging at your pigtails’ as a metaphorical descriptor, not an actual physical attribute of reader!) alsoo, please send some batfam requests!

Jason had heard murmurs of the woman who was the true ruler of Crime Alley and all of its underworld connections.

At first, he dubbed it a win for feminism, because women too can be major players in crime worlds!

But then it got annoying real fast, because for some reason, you were real good at hiding your trail; every turn he went, the moment he thought he caught a glimpse of you, you were gone moments later like ash in the wind.

It took him five of your men and his a few hours of continuous beating to get the vaguest clue of where exactly you resided; he spent the rest of the week nosing his way through that misty trail, his irritation growing by every second he had to march down Gotham’s shittiest streets, and it didn’t help that his red hood hardly had any breathing holes.

He was trying to keep his cool—he really was!—but the more you seemed to toss at him your half-starved homeless men at him, the more brutal the remnants of them became.

“God fuckin’—jesus, just tell me where the lady is!” He spat. “I just have some questions, that’s all, why does she keep sending you guys—“

“We’re telling you nuthin’, that woman’s an angel and you ain’t gettin’ yer dirty mitts on ‘er!” The man—a ragged, gaunt-looking guy—heaved, blood pooling out his mouth. "You’ll never see ‘er—!”

“You just wanna talk?”

Jason’s head snapped up, hand still wrapped around the man’s throat.

In the warehouse which he had 'accidentally’ beat everyone half to death, a woman stood at the entrance. Though it was night, the moon was bright enough for Jason to make out some of her features.

She’s easy on the eyes.

Suddenly, all the pent up irritation that had been writhing under his skin dissipated.

He’s a sucker for hot women.

“Hey,” He rose from the man’s body, standing tall. “You must be the ‘true ruler of Crime Alley’ or whatever—it’s a bit of a dumb name, don’t you think?”

You were silent, face scrunched.

“Jeez, tough crowd—”

“What do you want, Red Hood?” You sounded mildly annoyed, as if he’s just some pesky kid tugging at your pigtails or something.

You took a step forward into the warehouse, arms crossed. “Talk. You have my attention now.”

“Oooo-kay, great! So, I kind of need help with something—a favor, if you will,” he raised his sword. It was busted and dull, practically just a dented piece of iron than an actual blade. “I need a replacement for this—” he grinned. “—And all the information you have about Black Mask and his connections with Joker.”

“...are you dumb?”

“What?”

“Do you actually think I’m some ruler of Crime Alley? You weren’t joking?” You laughed, eyes wide.

“You’re not?”

“No! I’m not the fucking ruler of anything! Come on Red Hood, is critical thinking not your strong suit?!”

“Hey, hey, c’mon lady, go easy on me—“

“I’m just the woman who gives the people here a place to stay! That’s it! Is this the reason you’ve been up my ass?!” You scowled at him. Were you a model, because you even made pissed look delicious. “Beating up a bunch of homeless guys ’cause you thought I was a fuckin’ mob boss or something?—yeah, mob boss of the homeless? Seriously?"

He raised his hands. “Okay, when you word it like that, I feel dumb.”

“You are dumb—anyway, do me a favor and stop beating up the guys here? Please!?” You hissed, your hands balled into fists. “Because I’m the one that fixes up their wounds and I don’t have the money to keep buying gauze and shit.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll lay off—though you coulda just have talked to me earlier?” He muttered the last part but you somehow still heard.

“You think I’m gonna go talk to the ‘Red Hood’? The guy that kills on his free time?”

He sighed dramatically. “Touche—and it’s for a good cause! I only kill people that—“

“Yeah, yeah, don’t list me your commandments to be on your fuckin’ hit list, God you’re annoying.”

He laughed. “I have a feeling I’ve pissed you off—”

“You beat a bunch of guys I take care of half dead. Pissed is hardly covering it.”

“—and you know what? I don’t like pissing off pretty women—I said it! I don’t like it. So, I humbly apologize.” He swept his leg and arm in unison into a grandiose bow.

You scoffed, going to one of the unconscious men and pressing your fingers to his pulse. “I only accept apologies in cash.”

“Oh, okay, that’s much easier,” making his way to you, he tugged off one of his blood-soaked gloves and rummaged his pocket. A couple hundred dollar bills were in there.

He extended them to you. “These enough to soothe any hiccups?”

You carefully moved the unconscious man to the ground. From the pockets of your giant jacket came a small bag with a bottle of antiseptic, bandages, and a bunch of other shit.

You then looked at him, brows furrowed. “That’s... a lot of money.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah? Do you have enough money for yourself?”

Jason stared at you for a moment before barking out a harsh laugh. That earned him a frown. “You’re worried? About me?”

“No, I just don’t want you to beat some person up for their money if this is all you have—“

“Baby, I’m rich, I shit gold bars, just take it.”

You glared at him for a second before snatching the money, shoving it into your pocket before tending to the man. Pushing up his shirt, Jason saw his body was covered in lacerations and bruises.

Jason whistled. “Damn, didn’t think I was that strong.”

“Fuck off.” You sprayed some antiseptic. The man groaned.

Jason sat. He should be going off and looking for more trails of Black Mask, but he didn’t really want to—not right now, anyway.

Even if you’re not some mob boss or whatever, you were still intriguing, and he’s a curious guy, he can’t help but want to watch you some more.

However, he was quick to notice how stiff you were under his gaze.

His head tipped to the side. “Hey, do I scare you?”

You ignored him, running a rag along the guy’s body. Blood stained the white cloth instantly. You lifted the cloth and looked at Jason.

“This is the worst you could do. Beat someone. Maybe flay them. Then they die.”

He hummed.

“So when you say ‘scare’, I assume you mean the idea of you beating me or whatever—killing me, or torturing, your shit.” Your eyes went back to the beaten guy, continuing with the cleaning. “You don’t.”

“If that’s the case, then why’d you avoid me?”

“Because I had shit to do, that’s why.” You unraveled a gauze. “Not everything’s about you—eugh, I can’t lift him, hey, since you’re just sitting here, help me a little—yeah, just like that, thank you,” you swept the gauze under the man’s back then brought it back up. You repeated that motion. “But yeah, not really scary. Death is just—well, death.”

Jason nodded along. You were weird.

He liked weird.

When you were done, Jason put the man back down.

“Well, I gotta go now, duty calls and all.”

“Okay.” You got up, moving to the next guy.

“Bye?”

“Just leave.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #batman x reader #batfam x reader

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rfxiii · 8 months

Note

I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, but can u do one where Trevor and reader r playing tennis and reader wins, and Trevor give reader a ‘reward’?

Luv ur work btw!

Trevor and the Reader Playing Tennis Together:

(Summary: Trevor invites the reader on a date, taking her to one of Los Santos’ many tennis courts. In an effort to raise the stakes, Trevor suggests a bet- whoever wins the match gets a prize)

[the readers pronouns weren’t specified so I went with a fem!reader but if that’s not what you wanted feel free to reach out and I’ll edit or re-write!]

*TW: Smut

(Word Count: 2087)

Outings with Trevor were always a whirlwind. He kept you on your toes even on a simple trip to the grocery store. So when you find yourself out late at night, on the tennis court, with Trevor dressed in those little athletic shorts that leave very little to the imagination, you’re not exactly surprised. He’d always been into things like hockey and golf, but seeing him bouncing on his toes across from you, holding his tennis racket as if it’s a weapon, was honestly a bit comical.

With a mischievous grin on his cracked, scarred lips, Trevor beckons you to join him for a match. And despite your vague reservations, knowing how competitive he can get, you agree- holding your own racket tightly as you prepare.

“What’s with the face, sugar? Ya afraid Uncle T is gonna beat ya?” Trevor taunts, appearing incredibly confident for a man who looks like he’s never played tennis in his life.

“Don’t get cocky, Trev! I may just surprise you.” you fire back, unwilling to let him under your skin before the match has even begun.

“Ooh! I like it when you’re feisty, angel. Ok! Let’s make things interesting, huh? How bout a wager? Winner gets to pick whatever prize they want.”

You consider momentarily. You’re no tennis pro, that’s for sure. But you feel confident enough that you can hold your own. But then again, you know Trevor well enough to be sure that if you lose there’s literally no limit of insanity to what he could request from you. You weigh the pros and cons, finally deciding that the look on his face if you managed to beat him would be well worth the risk.

“Ya know what? Bring it on, T!” you agree- confident grin on your lips as you spin your racket in a smug display.

The game begins quickly, and much to your dismay, Trevor displays an uncanny knack for tennis. His manic demeanor seems to transform into pure energy as he focuses on the game, delivering violent serves and aggressive spins. You find yourself struggling to keep up, but the thought of losing to him quickly turns your surprise into heated determination.

With each volley, you find yourselves laughing, shouting at each other, and exchanging playful, yet heated, taunts. And as the sets go on, you begin finding your rhythm after a clumsy beginning, putting up a determined fight against Trevor's unconventional yet shockingly effective playing. He’s still doing incredibly well, but you’re keeping up. And you’ll be damned if you lose to him. The thought of his victory request is far from your mind now as your only fear is having to face his smug, taunting grin if he wins.

You swing your racket hard, and Trevor lunges, his quick attempt to return the shot falling just short as the ball hits the ground, and your victory is solidified with your triumphant cheers and maybe a bit of heckling that you’re not exactly proud of.

“God! Fuck! Fuck! Come on!” Trevor growls, tossing his racket into the ground as he stomps like a raging toddler- he’d never handled losing well. But, just like his moods usually do, his anger quickly changes as he gives you a smarmy grin and waltzes across the court to pull you into a handsy embrace.

He’s damp with musky sweat, and you can still feel his heart pounding beneath his ribs from where his chest is pressed flush with yours. His full, chapped lips are parted in heavy gasps, his thinning hair is stuck to his head in a slick sheen of sweat, and there’s just something about his body heaving from exertion that’s pulling in all of your attention.

“Well, sugar-.. Fair is fuckin’ fair, I guess. So, go on. Do your worst! Whaddaya want?” Trevor pries, dropping a bit of his weight into your arms and looking at you with those chocolate brown puppy dog eyes full of mischief. He’s always been able to sense your want, and you damn him for that, because before your request even leaves your lips he’s already sporting a lecherous grin on his taunting face.

“Wipe that smile off your lips, Trev. You lost. So now you’re gonna be a good boy and put that dirty mouth to good use. I’m tired of hearing you talk.” you huff out- anxious and a bit unfamiliar with taking the dominant role. But the low growl he lets out and the way his filthy, calloused hands slide down your body and under your little tennis skirt is enough to let you know he’s going to enjoy this just as much, if not more, than you do.

His rough touch drags up your thigh, his split nails scratching up the delicate flesh until his fingers press against the thin fabric of your underwear. They prod and rub roughly without much finesse but with enough eager energy to more than compensate for his lack of tenderness. You choke on a breathy gasp, fingers flying up to grip at his shoulder and tug him closer- your forehead dropping to his chest where you hear his ragged breath and low moans.

“Yeah? You like that, sugar?” Trevor chuckles, the low rasp of his voice sending sparks straight between your thighs.

A soft whimper ghosts past your lips, head tilting up to gaze at him with desperate eyes, “Trevor.. Wait.. Someone could see..”

“It’s late. Nobody is gonna be out here. Unless…ya want me to stop? The prize is time sensitive though, darlin’. So, I’d think quick.” Trevor challenges, his fingers working fast, firm circles against you in a taunting rhythm.

It’s hard to think, let alone argue, when he touches you like this. And he knows he’s won before you’ve even had a chance to speak up, “N-no.. Trevor.. I-.. Don’t stop..” you find yourself whining. And the awful, twisted smile splitting his lips shows his enjoyment clearly on his face.

“That’s what I thought. Now be good, and let old Trevor take care of ya. Huh, angel face?” he goads, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear to press against your needy clit.

Your legs nearly buckle beneath you, a hand digging tightly into Trevor’s bicep while the other tangles fingers in the thicker hair at the back of his head. The high, whimpery moan that escapes your lips has him grinning. And as he works his gnarled fingers up your slit, collecting the wetness that he’s caused there, he lets out a groan nearly as desperate as yours, “Oooh fuck, baby.. You’re fuckin’ dripping.. If I had known how bad you fuckin’ wanted it, we’d have stayed the fuck home tonight.”

Your hips grind fitfully against his hand, craving the friction those vile fingers of his provide. He easily senses your desperation, leaning down to nip and suck at your throat while his slick tongue traces against the grooves he’s bitten into your neck like a twisted apology to soothe the sting. Your needy reactions have him working harder, paying pointed attention to your damp clit, and focusing on each flex of his fingers that makes you cry out the loudest.

“Trevor.. Trevor! Please.. I’m so close! Please, more?” you plead, looking up at him with teary eyes as you waver right on the cusp of blissful completion. Thankfully he’s always been just as needy as you. And tonight he has no intentions of teasing you by denying what you both need.

“Turn around.” Trevor orders, not giving you the chance to move on your own as he spins you roughly around, forcing you to grip the chain link fence bordering the tennis court to keep your balance. He presses into you from behind, grinding himself against you while the fabric of those little shorts do next to nothing to restrain his hard cock prodding at your ass beneath your skirt, “You feel how fuckin’ bad I want ya, sugar? Fuck! You drive me fuckin’ crazy.”

He’s always so needy for you and it never fails to make you feral. You press back against him, grinding your ass into his growing bulge until he quickly becomes tired of the teasing foreplay, ripping your panties down your thighs and pinning you so far forward your face nearly presses into the chain link, “Fuckin’ teasing me all night with that little skirt, running your mouth, tellin’ me what to do.. Fuuuck! You know I love it. Let Uncle T give ya your reward now, sugar.”

“Please.. Please.. Trevor, please.” you gasp out like a prayer, gazing over your shoulder with fingers trembling where they grip like a lifeline to the chain link.

His movements are frantic and aggressive while he tugs his little shorts just low enough for his cock to spring free. He’s so hard it almost looks painful for him with his tip flushed violent red and steadily leaking pre-cum. He spits thickly into his palm, stroking himself a few, rough times- not that he needs the extra lubrication, as you feel your own arousal close to dripping down your inner thighs. Trevor’s rugged, scarred hand grips your hip while the other remains on his cock, lining himself up with your soaked, nearly aching cunt before he presses a kiss to the back of your neck in a bastardized version of gentle intimacy, “That's it, baby.. Lemme show ya just how good you did tonight..”

He presses forward in one harsh snap of his hips, hitting you deep inside in that one spot he’s memorized you loving. You practically sob for him, clinging to the fence and struggling to rock your hips in time with his frantic, disarranged rhythm. His hand rears back suddenly, delivering a firm slap to the smooth, delicate skin of your ass and pulling a shocked, euphoric cry from your lips. You’re trembling and he has no intentions of slowing his manic, disorienting pace. And when his harsh, careless fingers assault your clit you feel yourself nearing your end.

“Trevor! Oh fuck, Trevor! Don’t stop! Please! I- I’m so close! Fuck! Fuck!” you babble out, unable to restrain your loud tone as you’ve long since shed your fear of being caught in public like this- the pleasure clouding your mind as your previous reservations melt away.

“Oh fuck yes! You’re so fuckin’ perfect! Oh god! That’s it, sugar! Take it!” Trevor growls, hips driving mercilessly into you and fingers working you over so well he has you on the verge of tears. You feel him twitching inside you, his moans growing louder and desperate as you both feel yourselves nearing your end.

Your chin drops to your chest, your head hanging limp in pleasure with your legs trembling so terribly it’s close to impossible to stand, “Trevor! I’m- I’m gonna cum! Don’t stop! Please! Please! Ooh god, Trev! You feel so fucking good!” you plead- the praise only spurring him on with his hips snapping against you so viciously it’s sure to leave you bruised.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuckin’ fuck! I love you, I love you-“ Trevor rambles, a telltale sign he’s close to his own end. And when his grip tightens almost painfully against your hip, and his fingers pace against your clit becomes stiff and rhythmless you both reach your peak with sharp and sudden explosions of euphoria, “AUGH! FUCK! I LOVE YOU! FUCK!” he shouts, his release ruining your insides as you cum around him- your slick, combined fluids trailing down your thighs as his pace begins to slow.

“Trevor… Oh my god.. Fuck.. You’re..fucking amazing..” you gasp with legs trembling and heart pounding in your chest.

He pulls out with a weak, pathetic whimper, wrapping his arms around you and pressing sloppy, wet kisses to your sweaty throat, “Goddamn, sugar.. That was fuckin’-.. Wow. Competition really does bring out the best in ya, don’t it?” he teases while readjusting himself and pulling up his shorts.

You bite back a groan at the dampness between your sore thighs, pulling up your panties and straightening your skirt while fighting back a grimace as his cooling cum soaks the fabric, “Ya know what, T?” you giggle softly, pulling him into a teasing embrace with arms looped around his neck, “Maybe we should wager like this more often. I think I kinda like the rewards you give.”

A smirk twists his scarred lips as he leans down and pulls you into a wet, despicable kiss that promises that this night is far from over, “Sugar, I like the way you think.”

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