#and doesn't shout at him nearly half as much

[pretty-red-garnet]

Brothers

Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Quarry • Fluff

This took so long and I am not happy with it at all. I am so sorry to the anon who requested this! I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I just could not figure out what to write for this request. Again, so sorry. I hope to get back into writing more soon!

Part 2

     Chaos. Everything was complete chaos. Gunshots, groans of walkers, the kids screaming in panic, Shane shouting orders. A rifle thrown in your hands, fingers trembling as you took shots, walkers falling to the ground. Lori, Carol, and the two kids were hustled into the RV, and you stood guard by the door.

     Rick and the group came back from Atlanta suddenly, yelling and shouting and putting more guns in more people hands. Your eyes kept flicking to your brother, Shane, as he took down geeks. Everything was going so fast and your head was spinning.

     And then, silence. It was eerie, how so much panic and chaos could turn quiet so shortly. The once bustling camp enjoying a fish fry now was now nearly half the size. The earth beneath your feet was covered in blood, some red and fresh from the people, some was almost back, the walker blood.

     Andrea dropped down to her sister and let out a cry, and that's when you finally turned away, opening the door to the RV and letting them know it was clear. A hand dropped to your shoulder and you flinched, the tips of your fingers brushed the knife at your waist before you realized.

     "You good?" Shane asks, and you give him a jerky nod. He pats your shoulder once more and parts from you. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and survey the camp.

     There's bodies everywhere, both human and undead. You can't stand looking at it, you can't stand Andrea's cries as the background noise. You turn on your heel and begin walking away, towards the woods. Maybe it wasn't safest, but you needed a breather away from everything. They were beginning to stab the brains of the dead, and you couldn't watch them put down the people you once considered friends.

     You sit heavily on a overturned tree, the rifle you swung on your back makes a metallic noise when it hits the wood. You sigh, bringing your elbows to rest on your knees as you bury your face in your hands.

     You're only alone for a moment before you hear footsteps and you shoot your head up, heart racing and eyes glancing about before you spot Daryl. You huff out a breath and take your eyes off him, hastily brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

     "You're getting sloppy, heard you from a mile away," you tease, your voice teary. Daryl scoffs and plunks himself down on the trunk beside you.

     "Didn't wanna scare you." You nod, because you knew he had purposely made himself known. You'd been hunting with the archer enough times to know he was never sloppy.

     "Did my brother send you?" You ask, still staring down at your shoes out of embarrassment that he'd seen you like this. All teary eyed and pathetic looking.

     "Nah, too busy starin' at Lori and Rick," he says. It's your turn to scoff now. "You alright?"

     "Yeah," you answer, risking a little glance at the man beside you. He was biting his lip in a way that made you believe he was worried, so you force a little smile. He doesn't look convinced.

     "No Merle?" You ask. Daryl shakes his head, breaking his gaze from yours. "I'm sorry." Daryl throws you a little glare out the corner of his eye, but it lacks any sort of real anger. "I am."

     "Sure," he says, sarcastically. You narrow your eyes and bump his shoulder with yours.

     "Ok, I know me and him weren't exactly besties," your emphasis on the word makes Daryl give you an exasperated look. You just smile. "But I can still be sorry, I know how much you care about him." Daryl hums. "Besides, I don't think anything will take down that man. I'm sure he's fine."

     "Yeah, probably," he says with a huff of air escaping his lips. You're both quiet for a moment, and Daryl eyes you worriedly. "You sure you're alright?"

     "Yeah," you say with a shrug. "Just... worried. About everything."

     "I get that." You get silent again, and Daryl starts to bite and pick at the skin on his thumb. "But you don't gotta be."

     "I don't?" You ask, brows pulled forward and looking at Daryl intently. "Why's that?" Daryl shrugs and decides that the ground is more interesting than looking at you.

     "'Cause I'll always look out for you," he answers, quietly. You smile and place your hand on Daryl's shoulder in a gentle manner. He flinches just a bit before turning his blue eyes to you. He has a soft expression on his face, the one that's reserved for only you

     "Thank you," you say, in a sincere and soft way Daryl's never heard directed at him before. He nods, shakily. "I'll always look out for you, too."

     "I know," he answers, standing up. "Come on, ain't safe out here."

     You aren't completely sure when the unlikely friendship of you and Daryl began. A cop and a loud, brash redneck wasn't exactly an expected duo. Although, you do know a much different Daryl than most. A much kinder, softer version of himself, one he keeps locked behind a very tall, very solid wall.

     You're sure the only reason Daryl has shown this side of himself to you was because you're the only one to treat him like a person, not like some ticking time bomb. Not like some untamed animal or uncontrollable being, just a person. You had shown him a kindness he wasn't used to, and even after a few attempts at keeping you at arms length, you're closer than ever with the man.

You’d admit that maybe your feelings for the man weren’t completely platonic. But that’s to be expected considering you spend so much time with him. He’d taught you some hunting tips, so you hunted with him most days. All that time together, it wasn’t a complete surprise that a little crush would form.

Daryl leads you back to your tent, avoiding the mess of the dead loved ones. It seems most have agreed major cleanup can wait until morning, and have returned to their reserved tents. Dale stayed on watch, mostly for Andrea's sake, just incase she wouldn't be strong enough to take out Amy, you assume.

Daryl lingers at the opening of your tent. You have a unsure, nervous look to you. Your hands wring and fumble with themselves, and your bottom lip in firmly in place between your teeth. He's not fond of your anxious presence.

"I don't want to be alone," you whisper. You grimace, eyes screwing shut briefly before they open again. "Sorry, that makes me sound so pathetic." You let out a breath of air that's supposed to resemble a laugh, but it falls short. "I'll be ok, I'm not even really alone anyway. Shane's tent is right next to mine—"

"Wanna stay with me?" Daryl asks, before he can even think. The words just escape him, embarrass him, and he's about to take it back before you answer.

"Would you mind?" Daryl wants to say absolutely not, of course he doesn't, but what comes out is a grunt and a shake of his head accompanied by a shrug. Daryl turns towards his tent and juts his chin at it.

"Come on." You follow behind him to his tent. His and Merle's are beside each other, both farther from everyone else's tents. They have their own small fire pit and some tree stumps for chairs. Not far behind is a string of cans, a perimeter for the campsite.

Daryl leads you into his tent, holding the flap open for you to climb in behind him. It's small inside, some clothes and spare bolts for his crossbow laying about. A thick blanket is splayed out to act as a barrier from the hard ground. It's Daryl's turn to be nervous and fumbling, watching you take in the small space.

"Cozy," you say with a smile, laying down on the blanket. Daryl hesitates, sitting near the closed entrance and as far as possible from you. You frown. "Lay down. There's room for both of us." You pat the spot on the blanket beside you.

Daryl's eyes flick from yours to the space beside you. He eventually obeys after seeing your unrelenting gaze and lays down beside you, kicking off his boots and keeping them close.

You watch as Daryl does so. His muscles are tense, even as he lays down. He's stiff as a board, arms crossed on his chest as he stares up at the ceiling of the tent. He's ridged, and you feel the tension radiate off his body in waves.

"Am I making you nervous?" You ask, a teasing tone to your voice. It’s mostly to cover up your own anxiety over being so close to him. Daryl scoffs and turns his face away from you.

"Yeah, right." You laugh softly, and Daryl feels a smile twitch at his own lips at the sound. "Just ain't used to sharin' the covers, better not be a blanket hog."

"I'm not, I promise."

It gets quiet, both just laying beside each other, sleep not catching up with either. The gears in your head spin at a million miles a minute, and Daryl glances at you every few minutes, his own thoughts racing, until finally, you speak.

"Do you ever think..." you pause, and Daryl watches you carefully. "That you just aren't good enough? No matter what you do?" Daryl's brows furrow. Where did that come from?

"Plenty," he replies. "Have I ever thought you weren't good enough? Nah, never." Daryl adjusts so his arm is resting behind his head, he keeps his gaze straight to the ceiling even as he feels your eyes burn into him. "Where's this comin' from?"

"I don't know." You shrug. "Been thinking about it a lot lately. About if something happens and I can't save Shane, or Carl. You." Daryl's heart flips.

     "Took out a lot of walkers today," Daryl says. "I think you'd be right there if anyone needs your help."

     "I'm not strong enough."

     "Stop," Daryl snaps, he whips his eyes to yours.

     "I'm not. I'm not my brother, and I'm not like you or Rick. I'm not strong, I'm not meant for this." Your voice grows weaker as you go on.

     "You're a cop, you helped people, right? You took out, what? Ten walkers all on your own? I saw you." You let out a humorless laugh, tears spring at your eyes.

     "The only reason I became a cop was because Shane did," you admit. "I felt like I had to follow him, to do something."

     "Don't matter." Daryl's brows furrow. He isn't sure where this is all coming from. Sure, he'd seen you seemed to always be behind Shane, following whatever he said to do. It bugged him a little, how he always bosses you around. He didn't think it ever bothered you.

     "It does matter," you say with a scoff and sit up. Daryl follows, slowly sitting up next to you. "I was never meant for it. I could barely even take statements sometimes without wanting to cry."

     "Just means you care 'bout people." You shrug.

     "It means I'm weak." Daryl shakes his head and nudges you with his elbow.

     "Ain't weak. And you ain't pathetic, neither." You hang your head.

     "I wish I was like Shane, he's strong, he helps people."

     "Yeah, well I like you just like this," Daryl admits, even as he feels his face heat up.

     "Yeah?" You finally smile, shyly, turning your head just slightly to peek at Daryl. Daryl clears his throat and lays down, turning his back to you.

     "Ain't saying it again. Go to sleep." You laugh, actually laugh, and lay down.

     "I like you just how you are too, Daryl," you mumble, before sleep finally overtakes you.

Everyone is up early the next morning, you suspect nobody really slept. You had kept waking up every hour, and Daryl was still up staring at the ceiling when you'd glance at him. Footsteps and movement around the camp began right when the sun came up, and you and Daryl followed right after.

Everyone is bustling around now, burning the walkers and burying the dead, as Glenn had insisted. It isn't long before panic shouting is heard from Jacqui.

"Jim got bit! Jim's bit!"

Even more panic, angry shouting from Daryl, and arguing ensues. Daryl wants to kill Jim right then and there— which earned him quite the glare form you— thankfully it quieted him down a little. Rick wants to head to the CDC for a potential cure, and your brother is adamant Fort Benning would be the best bet. You were little ways away from their discussion, chatting with Carl.

"Y/N, what do you think?" Shane asks, suddenly. You sigh and take a few steps closer, away from Carl. You were hoping they would just figure it out and leave you out of it.

"Well," you begin, and Shane's slight narrow of his eyes doesn't go unnoticed. He wants you to go along with him. "I'm sure if there's a cure, Fort Benning would know. They are military, must have doctors."

Daryl scoffs, and you glance to him in surprise. He holds your gaze, but you can't place his expression. Your brows knit in confusion.

"There you have it, Rick," Shane says cockily, breaking you from your trance. You look away from Daryl.

You walk away, leaving the boys to argue further. You honestly don't care where you end up. From the looks of the city, there's nowhere safe, not the CDC, and not Fort Benning. It doesn't matter to you where they decide to go.

"Hey," Shane says, approaching you where you're taking down your tent. You drop the pole you're holding and stand up straight. Shane has a pissed off look on his face.

"CDC then?" You ask. His expression darkens.

"You could've had my back a little," he whispers angrily, getting closer to you. You turn away to hide your rolling eyes. You return to your task.

"I don't care where we go, Shane. It's all the same to me." He grabs your upper arm, not tight enough to hurt, but it's enough to pull your attention back to him.

"Yeah, as long as you get to follow your boyfriend, right?" You narrow your eyes, reeling away from Shane slightly out of shock. His face is close to yours. "Saw you come out of Dixon's tent this morning."

"So what, Shane," you say, yanking your arm from his grasp. "You aren't my father." He exhales heavily through his nose.

"Stay the hell away from that guy," Shane demands, his finger coming up to point at your face. You set your jaw, a fist balls at your side, and you smack his hand away from you. And then, for maybe the first time ever, you don't just do whatever your big brother tells you to.

"Leave me the fuck alone, Shane."

You drop down heavily into the truck's car seat. Daryl glimpses at you from the drivers seat, and he looks at you questionably. You don't say anything, instead glaring out the passenger window so viscously, Daryl's surprised it doesn't shatter.

"You ain't goin' with Shane?" He asks. You scoff.

"No," you answer, shortly. Daryl shrugs, mumbling an 'ok' and starting the engine. He takes off towards the CDC, and you continue your angered glare.

"So, you got your own opinion on this whole thing, or do you always just follow along with whatever your brother says?" Daryl suddenly asks, making you whip your eyes to him. He's staring straight to the road, and you scoff loudly.

"Oh, that's really something coming from you," you say sarcastically, letting out a sharp laugh. "You followed your brother around like a lost puppy, but I'm the one always going along with my brother? Bullshit."

You regret bringing up Merle as soon as you finished your sentence, but anger is clouding your judgment. Your frustration at Shane mixed with Daryl's unwarranted comment is just about too much to handle.

     Although you feel a twinge of guilt, Daryl's comment was ridiculous coming from him. He always would follow his brother around, do whatever he said to do. He never even seemed to care whenever Merle went on racist, sexist, something just plain mean tangents, even if Daryl never agreed or joined.

     But still, Merle was his brother, no matter how awful, that you understood more than anything. Shane was one to ruffle a few feathers too, and you understand better than anyone how oppressive it can be to forever be in the shadow of an older brother. Never getting your own opinion, or word in, forever just following along.

     "You're right," Daryl says. You turn your head to him quickly in surprise. He doesn't face you, his eyes looking at the road in front of him. "I've always gone along with Merle, no matter how shitty he was, or what trouble I'd get in."

     "You're right, too," you admit with a loud sigh, your anger fizzling at Daryl’s sincere tone. "I've never really done, hell, even said what I've wanted. I always just followed what Shane's doing."

“Think it’s about damn time we do what we wanna do,” Daryl says, after a few moments pause.

“Yeah, yeah you’re right!” You exclaim, smiling brightly. “Screw Shane!” Daryl laughs, and you turn your head to fully look at him.

He’s biting at the skin on his thumb, and he gives you a small, crooked grin when he notices your eyes on him. The sun cascading through the window of the truck makes him glow, and you can’t help but think that he looks just beautiful. His bright blue eyes sparking, how his light brown hair looks almost blonde in the yellow light. You’d never noticed just how handsome he is.

“The hell you starin’ at?” He asks suddenly. Your face flushes violently at being caught ogling, and you whip your face towards the window.

“Nothing,” you fumble out, he just hums an unconvinced noise of acknowledgment.

You bite your lip harshly to stop the grin that threatens to split your lips. You sneakily take another glimpse at Daryl, taking in his calm expression, the way his eyes narrow to block out the brightness from the sun.

Maybe it was just a crush, or maybe you’re head over heels in love with him. It doesn’t matter now. All you know is that Daryl understands you like no one ever has, and you aren’t letting that go any time soon.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x you #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl imagines #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon fluff

[crownofgildedlilies]

oh, don't let your sunshine burn me!

in which: a son of hephaestus discovers a problem he can't solve. mainly, a daughter apollo who doesn't realize just how much her smiles hurt him.

pairing: leo valdez x daughter of apollo!reader

warnings: not proof read, slight cursing (otherwise, n/a)

tropes: friends to lovers, fluff, pining

word count: 3k

notes: my inaugural fic post on this blog. how special. plz enjoy. feedback is much appreciated.

Leo Valdez was going to lose his mind.

Or maybe a limb. Maybe that would get your attention. He wasn't going to pretend that he wasn't that desperate for you to turn your focus to him.

Stupid Garrett from stupid Ares. Why did he have to go and nearly get his head chopped off by Clarisse while sparring, stealing his thunder?

He should have done more than let his finger slip while hammering away in bunker nine. An exciting injury would have earned the most prized reward of your attention, for sure.

"Are you sure she's too busy?" Leo asked Will for probably four times too many to be considered casual. The blond only rolled his eyes and shoved an icepack into Leo's chest, nearly knocking him back a step, snapping him from his far too obvious admiring of you.

Even from across the infirmary, three hours into your shift, you stole the wind from his lungs. He was convinced you were a favorite of Apollo's, what with the way you glowed and lit up every room you were in.

Which is how he ended up in his current predicament. Absolutely desperate for any hint of your sunshine smile sent in his direction.

"Positive. Now, get out." Will confirmed, checking things off on his clipboard. Leo figured he was probably recording basic information like the patient—himself—had all his limbs, both eyes, ten fingers, and was practically drooling at his half-sister. Leo darted another glance across the room to you, still diligently assessing moronic Garrett from Ares who had been brain dead enough to accept Clarisse's offer of sparring.

Why were you blushing so much?

Something awful and too familiar twisted in his stomach, and all Leo could hear was Piper's voice telling him that he better make his move on you soon, because you were too sweet and too pretty to remain single much longer.

"When's her break again?" Leo asked, ignoring the way Will tipped his head back and closed his eyes, like he was praying for the strength to not hit his patient while under his care.

"And you can't ask her yourself because...?" Will prompted, dragging out the final word and forcing Leo to snap his attention towards the son of Apollo, his jaw practically open in shock.

"Because then she'll know I'm totally into her!" Leo whisper-shouted, waving his hands around as if to emphasize his point.

"You come in here everyday with a new injury asking for her to fix you up." Will pointed out, voice flat. "If she hasn't figured it out yet, I'm not sure she will. You should probably just be direct and ask her out."

Leo narrowed his eyes at Will, but on a rare miracle, he was at a loss for words. Maybe Will had a point. Leo was never exactly good at being subtle about his many, many, crushes, and if you hadn't realized he was hopelessly in love with you yet, then maybe he was safe from feeling the sting of your rejection.

"You're not going to talk to her, are you?" Will sighed, tilting his head slightly as he studied Leo, who, despite having already been given the magic remedy of an ice pack, remained perched on the side of a cot used as a medic's bed.

Leo shook his head side-to-side so quickly Will was a blur of blond hair and orange t-shirt in front of him.

"No can do." Leo said solemnly. "She's miles out of my league. Not even I'm stupid enough to think I have a shot with her."

"Well, at least Garrett isn't as oblivious as you," Will shrugged, shooting Leo a pointed look he didn't understand. The ugly feeling was back in Leo's stomach as he darted his attention towards you and the gods-damned son of Ares.

You were laughing, and Leo wasn't the cause.

Jealousy flared up in him.

You, on the other hand, were completely ignorant to the conversation occurring on the opposite side of the infirmary, far too engrossed in charismatic Garrett from Ares who was retelling the story of how Clarisse had knocked him on his ass and sent him to get bandaged up.

For a child of the war god, he was surprisingly graceful in his defeat.

"Next time, at least bring a shield with you." You smiled at Garrett, checking off the final few items on your clipboard. No major injuries towards his limbs, nor his ten fingers, neither of his eyes had been affected, and he was able to hold a proper conversation with you. "Otherwise I've got nothing else for you. Just an order to take the rest of the day easy."

"I can manage that," Garrett relented, which, for a demigod, was a pretty big ask. Taking it easy was never really an option when one of your parents was a god or goddess. "Hey, any particular reason Valdez is looking at me like he's going to send one of his inventions after me?"

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to act casual as you turned around slightly, finding that Leo had in fact found his way into the infirmary and in fact was staring at Garrett like he might make a good snack for Festus.

You had been starting to worry, thinking that maybe he wasn't going to show up that day.

"Dunno," You shrugged, ducking your face into your clipboard so you didn't have to look at Leo, or Garrett, or Will—who was sending you a look that was both pointed and annoyed at the same time. "But you're set to go."

"Perfect," Garrett jumped off of the examination bed, acting like he hadn't been carried in by two of his half-brothers, a sly grin on his face. "You sure that's not jealousy on Valdez's face?"

"What? Why would Leo be jealous?" You were ashamed to admit you stumbled over your words, your face turning a vibrant shade of red, as you considered the implication of Garrett's words. That Leo might have been into you, enough that just the sight of you talking to Garrett might have been enough to turn his mood sour. "We're just friends."

"Sure," Garrett grinned wickedly, the kind of grin only children of Ares could ever create. The kind that told he totally didn't believe her rushed dismissal of his words. "All I want is an invitation to the wedding. Talk to you later!"

Garrett darted off before you could swat at him with your clipboard, your face flushed with embarrassment. Gods, were you really that obvious in your crush on Leo?

Sure, he came into the infirmary just about every day you were working, with some minor injury or another for you to tend to. And maybe you took a little longer to heal him than you did when Percy or the Stolls came in, were a little sweeter, but were you so transparent that even Garrett from Ares knew what you felt?

"For the love of all the gods and goddesses, would you please just go talk to him?" Will grumbled, borderline exhausted, as he appeared at your side. You jumped, nearly lost in thought, and narrowed your sunshine stare at your half-brother. "He won't leave until he gets the chance to brag to you about his latest made-up injury."

You didn't have to ask who Will was talking about. Leo was still watching you from across the room, rather impatiently. He'd managed to find a few loose bolts and washers and was currently inventing something you couldn't comprehend while he stared very pointedly at the ground by your feet, having averted his stare the moment you darted yours in his direction.

"Shut up," You mumbled to Will, but regardless you dashed off across the room with what felt like permission to engage in your favorite part of the day.

You had received Apollo's gifts of healing, not his poetic words. And every day you cursed that fact, because never could you put into words just how much being around Leo Valdez made you feel centered within yourself. It was like his very personality gave you permission to the version of you that was nearly lost to time and circumstance and the tragedy of being a Greek hero.

"What's the problem today?" You grinned, the smile your half-siblings claimed shined brightest in the camp plastered on your face almost of its own accord as you stood before Leo.

"My hand, Doc." He sighed, playing along and holding up his left hand while the right shoved the ice pack Will had already given him behind his back. You snorted a laugh, and Leo's grin broke out from the solemn facade he had attempted. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to work again if you don't help me."

"Well there's only one solution," You nodded, pretending to read something off of your clipboard—which was still filled out with Garrett's information.

"Anything you recommend is good with me," Leo leaned closer, trying to read over the edge of your clipboard, which you quickly tugged close to your body.

"Right, I've got it." You grinned, dropping your face closer to his, almost like your heart was in control of your body instead of your mind. Leo nodded, and you would have sworn you saw his gaze shoot to your lips for the briefest of seconds. "Amputation. Mr. Valdez, I'm afraid we're going to have to take your hand off."

"But, that's my pretty hand!" Leo protested, playing into your joke quickly. You couldn't even pretend to hide your smile, laughter falling past your lips just as easily as breathing.

"Then I'm afraid there's nothing else we can do for you." You shook your head, grinning widely at Leo, who was—for a guy with ADHD as severe as him—giving you his full attention. "You're free to go. I'll see you and your pretty hand at the bonfire tonight."

"Glad to hear you agree that my hand is pretty." Leo slid off of the examination bed with a grin that had you flushing and looking over the contents of your clipboard simply for something to do with your eyes. "See you later, Doc."

Waving, you sent Leo off.

Over the course of the following week, Leo had found himself at the infirmary—during your shifts only—six more times.

Three smashed fingers from equipment you knew for a fact he knew how to handle properly. One cut to his arm from a piece of scrap metal. A paper cut.

On Thursday, he came in complaining of a serious burn.

"Doc, you'll never believe it. My whole arm caught on fire."

Will hadn't let him into the infirmary, claiming that Leo needed a better lie than that to come visit, since everyone already knew he was fireproof.

Leo came back fifteen minutes later with a second paper cut. Will took his break an hour early, claiming he needed to for his sanity.

But then you didn't so much as catch a glimpse of Leo for four straight days.

You felt more than a little pathetic, jumping every time the door to the infirmary opened, hoping against hope that it would be the curly haired son of Hephaestus you so adored.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, the door opened and you couldn't stop the way your body instinctively twisted around from where you words repacking first aide kits that were left in various locations around camp.

But it wasn't Leo standing at the door, but Piper.

You weren't the closest with her, but you were friendly. So you didn't think she was there for you, at first, until you saw her talking to your half-sister Stella and pointing towards you.

"Hey," Piper's voice had an edge of seriousness to it that snagged your attention, halting your efforts of resupplying. "I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you."

"Okay...?" You trailed off, not sure what she could have needed from you.

"Would you be willing to talk to Leo for me? He's in Bunker Nine, convinced he's going to make some big breakthrough on whatever machine he's currently working on." Piper explained and you nodded slowly, not seeing the problem. From your conversations with Leo, he always seemed to be in the middle of some big breakthrough. "He hadn't come out in four days. It's not healthy."

You frowned, trying to recall the last time you'd seen Leo at any of the meals. And when your mind came up blank, you settled on your answer to Piper's request.

"I'll talk to him."

You had never been to Bunker Nine.

As much as you talked to Leo, pretty much everyday, it was always in yours and shared spaces. The infirmary, mainly, but every once in a while at the dining pavilion or at the camp bonfires.

But you could barely focus on any one thing in the bunker. Half-finished projects littered the space, along with countless tools, scraps, and blueprints tacked haphazardly against walls and bulletin boards.

Since it was nearly dinner, the bunker had cleared out of all but one of its occupants. Perched over a table, working so diligently he didn't hear you approach, was none other than Leo Valdez.

Without thinking of the consequences, you dropped the canvas bag you had brought with you on his worktable, startling him so much he jumped in surprise and nearly sent his latest project clattering to the floor.

"Gods!" He shouted, wide eyed and hand pressed to his chest as if he could physically calm his racing heart. You couldn't help the way you grinned, a little lopsided, wholly endeared by him. "Sorry, were you trying to kill me? Because, if so, mission almost accomplished!"

"Actually, the opposite." With a confidence you didn't really possess, you leaned against the worktable next to him and started pulling tinfoil wrapped sandwiches out of the bag. "Everyone's convinced I'm your appointed caretaker, since you don't seem to do it yourself."

Leo had the good sense to seem chastised by the glare you sent him following your words. It wasn't like he could deny it, anyways. How many times had he ended up on your patient list?

"Did Jason put you up to this?"

"Piper," You confirmed, pushing a wrapped sandwich across the table towards him. Next out of the bag was a metal bowl, the bottom slightly charred and filled with paper scraps and twigs. "Light this for me, will you, please?"

"Well, when you ask so nicely," Leo grinned, a ball of flame forming in his palm and igniting the twigs in the bowl. Without needing to be told, Leo unwrapped his sandwich and ripped off a chunk to throw into the flames.

You copied his actions. And if you made a wordless prayer to Aphrodite to ask for a little assistance, that was no one's business but your own.

"I've..." You hesitated, darting a glance to Leo before focusing on your sandwich, biting down your declaration that you've missed him in the infirmary. He had already started eating, only further proof that he had been skipping meals while holed up in the bunker. "How come you're always getting hurt, Mr. Clumsy? I thought children of Hephaestus are supposed to be good in the forges."

You would have sworn you saw Leo blush, but your attention quickly darted away from him the moment he lifted his eyes to yours.

"You sure you wanna know the truth?" Leo asked his voice a kind of serious that was almost out of character for him. You nodded, slowly, and forced yourself to meet his eye. "I've been getting hurt on purpose."

"Leo Valdez!"

"Wait, let me finish!" Leo held up his hands to defend himself from your words and your glare, the healer in your absolutely hated the fact that Leo would have done anything to intentionally cause himself harm. "I did it because I got an excuse to see you."

"What?" For a child of Apollo, you sure didn't have a way with words. Distantly, you cursed the fact that you were a gifted healer and not a poet, because you knew what Leo's words meant and yet you couldn't get your own to function. "Wait—"

"I know this sounds stupid," Leo dragged a hand through the dark, disheveled curls atop his head. "But Will wouldn't let me in to see you if I wasn't hurt! So I... maybe... lied, a little bit."

You frowned, in thought. Thinking back, you couldn't remember Leo ever actually being hurt beyond the occasional cut or scrap. You'd always been so caught up in him and his visits to notice.

"I swear I'm not weird. I just really like you." Leo winced, no doubt taking your silence in a bad way.

And you weren't one of Apollo's poetically gifted children, so you simply pressed your lips against his and hoped he got the message.

It was a short kiss, a good first kiss, you noted with no small satisfaction. Your lips tingled and your fingertips were buzzing—and Leo looked like he had just won the lottery.

"You're sweet," You smiled, a thousand watt one that maybe Leo adored as much as your half-siblings did, and nudged his sandwich closer to him. "But you're banned from the infirmary unless you're actively dying. And for real!"

Leo paused, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to create a scenario that would get him past the barrier of your totally official and absolutely within rules ban.

"I can make that happen,"

"No, you can't," You tried to shoot him a discouraging look, but your smile was far too wide to deal any real damage. "Or else I'll go to tonight's bonfire with someone else."

"Nope!" He shook his head quickly, hair bouncing with the movement and expression light with an impish grin. "You kissed me, Doc. You're stuck with me, now."

You smiled, silently deciding you wouldn't mind being stuck with him.

"That's what I thought."

Leaning over to press a second kiss to the corner of his lips, you pretended not to notice the sparks dancing in his curls.

#leo valdez #pjo #rays of sun #Leo Valdez fic #Leo Valdez x reader #Leo Valdez fanfiction #pjo x reader

[glorious-spoon]

to loosen his grip [9-1-1 | Buck/Eddie]

~1k words | eddie & tommy; pre-relationship eddie/buck

spec fic for 7x04

-

The thing is, Eddie's not stupid.

Eddie's not stupid, and Buck's about as subtle as a brick to the face on a good day. He can't help it. Everything he's feeling comes spilling out of him; keeping it inside seems as impossible for him as holding the tide back with a leaky sieve. It's not something Eddie relates to that much, honestly. If anything, he's got the opposite problem. He crushes everything he's feeling into a tight little knot and holds onto it with white knuckles until he can't hold on anymore. It lost him Shannon—would have lost him Shannon even if she'd lived—and it nearly lost him both his job and his sanity in the end. He's still learning how to loosen his grip.

Buck still needs to learn how to get a grip, like, at all.

So yeah, Eddie knows. Not right away; he doesn't really think anything of it when he picks Tommy up from the hanger and Buck is there. In the truck, he watches Buck's receding figure in the rearview mirror for a moment before Tommy says, "Not trying to poach Evan from the 118, I promise."

He's laughing about it a little bit. Eddie scoffs and says, "Buck? You'd have to pry him out of that house before he'd go anywhere else."

He doesn't mention the lawsuit. That's water long under the bridge now, and it's not a time in his life he likes to think back on that much. But he knows it's true; Buck can say whatever he wants about keeping his options fluid, but when he finds people and a place he wants to keep, he hangs onto them.

Tommy is good company, anyway. It's something he's missed, since the Army: the easy camaraderie over beers, sitting in a shouting crowd in Vegas, shooting the shit in a bar afterward. Tommy's got a lift, and he brings his abuelo's Chevelle over, and it's an easy slide from that into a half-casual bout of muay thai, and Eddie has missed that, too: sparring just for fun, just for the hell of it, not for the money or because his demons were going to claw themselves out of his chest with bloody nails otherwise.

"See you've caught some lead," Tommy observes once they're done, bruised and a little breathless, shirtless on the bench in his garage. Eddie caps his Gatorade and glances up, and for a second he doesn't even know what Tommy is talking about until he nods at Eddie's right shoulder and asks, "That from overseas?"

Eddie touches the bullet scar, a long-healed dimple by now. It's not that noticeable anymore, at least from the front. The surgical scars from his thoracotomy are still more obvious, but even they've faded.

"Oh, no," he says. "I mean, yeah, I did, but this one was right here in L.A."

"Right, the sniper," Tommy agrees. "Shit. I remember seeing that Captain Nash caught a bullet. Didn't realize you were the other one from his house that got shot."

"Yeah, well." Eddie shrugs, uncapping his Gatorade again. "It was a long time ago."

He likes that, too. Talking about it with someone who never saw the bullet hole, only the scar. Talking about it with someone who's never had his blood in his mouth, who never knelt above him in a speeding truck and begged him to hang on.

He lied to Buck about it, because Buck's so close to it that he might as well have been shot too. It's easier like this, because Tommy isn't wounded by the memory; Tommy shrugs and asks if he wants to grab a pizza after this, and Eddie slings a towel over his shoulder and lets Tommy pull him to his feet, and they have pizza and a couple more beers, and it's easy. He's missed easy. He thinks he deserves to have something easy, for a change.

-

"I mean, I think it's great," Buck says, apropos of pretty much exactly nothing a couple of days later. "You can never have too many friends, you know?"

He's vibrating with that exact same anxious energy that Eddie remembers from his first day at the 118, when Buck seemed one wrong move away from pissing on the exercise equipment or maybe shoving him down the stairs. It awakens some puckish little part of Eddie that can't help but needle him. You're standing in the wrong light, man, as if he's ever in his life had an opinion about photography lighting, but it got Buck to bristle and snap like a wounded dog, all electric fury, and Eddie liked that, too, for reasons that he understands better now than he did back then.

So he shrugs, and he says lightly, "You know, it's like that thing when you meet somebody and you just click. You know what I mean?"

It's a jab, and not a very subtle one. He still remembers standing in the sunlight and listening to Buck tell him that Natalia saw him, after Eddie watched him hang there in the rain and felt his chest unmoving beneath his palms and sat through those endless hours in the fucking hospital waiting for him to wake up. After Eddie brought him home, and listened to his quiet confession in his kitchen, and tried as well as he knew how to hold Buck's still-beating heart gently.

But sure. Natalia saw him. For all of four months, apparently.

He thinks he wants Buck to flinch and snap back, just a little. It's not the place for it—they're in the middle of a goddamn call—but he's stupid about Buck. Always has been.

Buck doesn't flinch. He sags instead, his mouth downturned, and he mutters, "Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

And it's something they should talk about, maybe, but then Ravi calls up for more slack, and there are other things to focus on for the time being.

#911 #911 spoilers #911 speculation #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #petty eddie? petty eddie #sliding this one JUUUUST under the wire lol #my fic

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@croptopjames submission for mr james fleamont potter's birthday<3

2598 words - NSFW - cw: spanking, squirting, dirty talk, lil bit of degradation theyre being nasty idk it escalated

aka feral fucking your husband after seeing him in a shirt that doesn't quite fit like it used to~

“Baby, I’m home,” Regulus shouts after entering the front door, kicking it closed behind him with his foot as he balances the huge ice cream cake precariously on both his hands.

They’ve invited the whole family as per usual, what with their first year with Harry out of the house coming back from uni for his dad’s special day, Sirius and Remus driving down and picking up Effie and Monty on the way. All their friends will come later this week for brunch.

Today it’s just the few of them though and Regulus finds himself with a spring in his step at the thought of all of them together today.

James has taken the day off and Regulus was able to weasel his way into only half a shift today which he nearly missed entirely after the way James had sat down in his lap first thing in the morning and ridden him until he was shaking, cursing and babbling incoherently, all the while his husband was seated on his throne, smiling brightly, happiest man in the world, practically taking the matter of his birthday gift into his own hands.

“Hi love!” comes from somewhere on the higher level of the house.

Regulus brings the cake into the kitchen, shrugging off his jacket and quickly dispensing the celebratory sweet in the freezer before James sees it.

Not a moment after Regulus closes the drawer to grab a bowl of blueberries from the fridge James comes into the kitchen, huffing and cheeks flushed, a presumably heavy box of just…stuff in his arms that he must have gotten from the attic.

“James,” Regulus starts, blinking, “You were supposed to take the day off.”

His husband smacks a content kiss onto his cheek, grinning brightly. His glasses are smudged and sitting crookedly over his nose and Regulus is pretty sure he spotted a bit of spiderwebs in the mess of his hair.

“Ehh,” James makes dismissively, “I still felt restless after I hit the gym this morning once you left.”

He places the box down with a heavy thunk, petting its side like a horse—he’s such a dad, “And we’ve been wanting to get started on these babies after spring cleaning anyway, remember?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, fondness betraying him when the corners of his mouth tug upwards, “Mm, that might be true. Still it’s your birthd—”

Regulus halts.

“Love?” James looks at him inquiringly, hands propped on his hips.

On his very much naked hips. A palm length sliver of skin exposed between the indecently thin and short gym shorts and the—

“James, baby, what are you wearing?”

Oh, Regulus’ mouth is so, so dry.

“Huh?” James looks down at himself, shuffling in place before his head snaps back up to Regulus, “Oh! Yeah I found one of my old shirts from uni.” His husband snickers, giving a little twirl and shaking his hips from side to side like he isn’t currently taking five years off Regulus’ life expectancy.

“You–” Regulus stops again, eyes glued to the small swell of his stomach over the band of the white shorts, the dark hair splattered all over and coiling at the center, carving a path up and downwards. It’s downright indecent. His arms fill out the shirt just how they used to back in uni but with the difference that it’s more fat than muscle now—though Regulus knows well enough from personal experience how strong his husband still is. His pecs are visibly straining the material, the washed out, maroon letters spelling HOGWARTS cracking from the stretch.

Even more so when James leans back on his palms against the dining table, draping himself all prettily against the edge and smiling coyly, blinking doe brown eyes from under long lashes at Regulus as if he didn’t already have him warpped around his finger hook, line and sinker.

“Baby,” Regulus rasps and he barely recognises his own voice.

“Yeah, Reg?” James purrs, tilting his head and exposing the expanse of his neck.

“How long until Harry arrives?”

“An hour or two, depending on traffic,” James responds, voice all husky. Regulus is going to wreck him. Reduce him to a stuttering, squirting mess in the matter of half an hour, take his fucking word for it.

“Good enough,” Regulus grits out and then he crosses the distance in two long strides, already yanking at his tie.

They meet in a mess of parted lips, clicking teeth and tongues nudging, eager as ever, trying to lick into each other’s mouths and taste. Greedy for it, happily swallowing moans and tugging their bodies close. They slot into each other easily, practiced after all these years, decades and Regulus reckons that’s how they somewhat safely find their way onto the couch.

Regulus’ back hits the cushions with a soft oompf, barely time to gasp another breath and reach for his husband before James is straddling his lap, clasping Regulus’ stubbly jaw in warm, calloused palms and pulling him right back into their kiss. They don’t stay there for long with the way James is restlessly shifting on top of him, grinding his crotch right against the bulge in Regulus’ slacks, making them both groan.

At some point Regulus abandons James’ mouth in favor of kissing over the stubble of his cheek and jaw and latch onto his throat while simultaneously trying to get his stupid shirt buttons open. When the takes too long however James seems to grow impatient, batting his hands away and fumbling with them himself while they pant and grunt into each other’s mouths.

Regulus is nipping at James’ lower lip, already swollen and an obscene kiss bitten red and his husband makes a sound. Downright needy and he’s sitting there on top of Regulus, flushed and with that dazed look in his eyes, moaning like a little slut, so Regulus can’t quite help himself when he pulls one hand around and smacks James’ firmly on the bum.

It elicits a gasp, high pitched and followed by a long, drawn out moan and James sinking deeper into his lap, recapturing his mouth and desperately rutting down against where Regulus is hard and already throbbing. It’s a medical miracle, truly, that no matter how many times they’ve had sex, Regulus’ erection is always at its best form for James.

“Mnh,” James makes, their lips parting with a wet smacking noise, “Need you, baby.”

Regulus grunts, fingers digging harshly into the meat of James’ arse, “Slut.”

Just like expected, James whimpers, and so prettily at that. Eyebrows scrunching pitifully and he grinds once more, helplessly, “Please, please.” 

“But of course, sweety,” Regulus relents easily, licking a hot stripe up his neck, along his jawbone and then right across his slack mouth, “Anything for the birthday boy.”

James moans in response, nodding his head frantically.

Regulus nods his head towards the end of the couch where the pillows are piled, “Scoot up.”

His husband does so dutifully and it doesn’t take longer than a second for Regulus to make James lift his hips and rip the sheer piece of nylon off and throw it over his shoulder, not quite surprised yet still horribly taken off guard by the lack of boxer briefs underneath.

Regulus is left with nothing to do but stare at the mess of wet, thick curls and pink fold glistening with James’ slick, spit pooling under his tongue in an instant. He grabs James’ ankles, settling them over his shoulders, trainers still on and letting his hands drive over white tennis socks, hairy shins and strong calves. Digging his thumb in there and relishing in the gasp he elicits from his husband that way, hips twitching with the suspense. Regulus strokes up his boney knees, massages the big muscle of his thighs, the hair tickling his palms softly, all the while letting himself pitch forward, making sure to spill warm breath over where James wants him most right now.

He goes further, letting his hands rake up and over his stomach, rucking the shirt up as he goes and tucking it over the swell of his pecks, exposing him for Regulus to play with.

James is panting, short little puffs of breath, brimming with excitement and barely refraining from whimpering on the way out each time.

Predictably, he breaks once Regulus lazily swirls a tongue around his exposed nipple, holding the eye contact and watching with satisfaction as James’ eyelids flutter. He can’t help but grin, nipping at the hardened nub before he retreats, settling himself comfortably between James’ thighs and without warning diving right in.

James positively screams the moment Regulus closes his lips around his cock, sucking him into his mouth and rolling him around between his lips until the bucking of his hips throws him off. Regulus hoists an arm over James’ hips, belting him down, and wastes no time inserting one finger into James’ searing wetness, sinfully hot inside.

“Ahh yesyes, please more, love, please m-hah—” James babbles, throwing his head back when Regulus drives into him with another finger, crooking them upwards and watching shamelessly as his husband’s precum pools all over his digits before diving back in to lick at his little cock. 

He works them steadily up to each finger until he is four in deep, repeatedly hitting that spot inside of James and sucking and mouthing at the bundle of nerves until James’ noises grow an edge.

“You gonna cum for me, baby?” Regulus asks, muffled between licks, jaw aching slightly.

“Yeah, yeah, gonna– hnng,” James breaks off, screwing his eyes shut when Regulus gives a particularly harsh suck, noises obscenely loud.

He’s fisting the cushions like his life depends on it, white knuckling them in his grip, and it only takes a handful more thrusts and licks before James is shuddering through his first orgasm. Breaths coming quicker until he eventually breaks off into a keen, thighs quivering around Regulus’ head, squeezing at his skull and riding it out, grinding his cunt uncoordinatedly forward into Regulus’ face all the while convulsing around his fingers.

He squeezes in waves of pleasure and it makes Regulus so delirious that he blinks and the next thing he knows is him kneeling against James’ ass, belt undone, slacks shoved down just enough and prodding at his slick, puffy entrance with the head of his cock.

James is staring unblinkingly at the ceiling, mouth agape and pupils so dilated they’ve swallowed most of the beautiful, dark chocolate brown.

“Baby,” Regulus prompts, bending James’ knees towards his ears with a grunt, “Jamie, be a good boy and hold these there for me.” His husband slowly blinks him back into focus, silently obliging and hooking his fingers into the bend of his knees—thank the higher powers James still does yoga once a week.

Regulus leans in, one hand holding him up off the couch, the other fisting around the length of him and smearing it through James’ wetness, “Now are you going to be able to be good and keep yourself wide open for me or are you already fucked too stupid, huh? An old man? Maybe we should postpone it for next year, ay papi, what do you say?”

James whines pathetically, rubbing his head into one of the throw pillows, knotting his black hair up even more before he swallows frantically, “No, Reg, pleaseplease, I can take it. Please, love, I’m gonna be good for you, I prom–Aah—”

Regulus bottoms out in one smooth thrust, vision dotting with black spots at the mind bending heat and vice grip James has on him, already pulsing around him shallowly.

He grants James a moment to get used to being full, slowly rocking his hips back and forth and listening for when his whimpers turn into soft moans, turning needy again, and then he reaches up to grip his chin, “Then take it, slut.”

The pace he picks up into is hard, not too fast but unforgiving and steady, a sure way to drive James crazy. Regulus nips his way along his husband’s chest, nuzzling his nose through chest hair and biting and licking at his dark nipples, tasting salt and sweat, feeling his cock twitch at the taste deep inside his husband.

When Regulus feels himself lose rhythm he hikes James’ legs impossibly higher, draping one of them over his shoulder before he starts spanking him again. The angle is awkward but it’s working, going off of the way James keeps jerking at the stinging contact, clenching around the length of Regulus and working himself into a frenzy, gasping and whimpering and groaning like he’s getting the best cock of his entire life. 

“Touch yourself, baby,” Regulus demands, breath stuttering as he watches a fat tear roll down the side of James’ face, disappearing into the shorter hair at his temple.

Regulus keeps James’ thighs wide and open, rolling his hips with abandon, groaning and panting with every thrust, feeling sweat bead on his forehead and desperately trying not to lose control when James snakes a hand between his legs, frantically circling his cock while Regulus keeps pumping in and out of him.

“If you could only see yourself, baby,” Regulus grits out, “Fucking masterpiece, splayed out for me like this. Obliging my every demand, so fucking good, baby.”

James moans happily, tongue lolling out and without thinking Regulus sticks two of his fingers into his mouth, rubbing over his tongue and feeling the saliva coat them thickly.

“Can you go ahead and cum for me again, Jamie?”

James whines an affirmative around his digits, slurping messily, a trickle of drool trailing down the corner off his mouth.

“Think you’ll be a good boy and squirt all over me, baby? You know how much I love when you cum like that, hm?”

James breath hitches impossibly, eyes threatening to flutter shut as he nods deliriously.

Regulus quickly grabs him by the jaw, “Keep looking at me, James. I know you can do that for me, baby.”

And so he does.

On the next thrust James starts quivering again, fingers working furiously over his cock, mouth falling open around a silent scream and gazing Regulus right in the eyes as he pounds into him and James squirts around him. Spraying everywhere, absolutely in all directions and fucking messy, wetting Regulus’ torso and the couch—Regulus wouldn’t be surprised if the carpet wasn’t unscathed either.

That’s really all Regulus can take before his hips stutter in their pace and he buries himself deep inside James, letting the pulsing of his husband’s orgasm milk him dry as he spills and spills his cum into James for what feels like minutes on end.

At some point James lets his trembling legs back down, crossing his ankles tightly under Regulus’ bum as this one keeps jerking into his husband’s hole.

Once they’re both done Regulus is too exhausted to do anything else but collapse forward into James’ chest which he accepts with a happy hum.

They take a few minutes like this, James slowly coming to and starting to play with the curls at Regulus’ nape and Regulus breathing in the comforting scent of James, raking his short nails up and down the side of his ribcage.

After a while James presses a feebly kiss into the side of Regulus’ head, huffing out a big breath that makes Regulus rise with the motion of his chest before he snickers, “Well, happy fucking birthday to me.”

Regulus chuckles into the crook of James’ neck, dropping a kiss there before lifting and staring into his husband’s droopy eyes, “Yeah, happy fucking birthday to you, baby.”

#sirius arrives and is like: huh since when do you have a blanket draped over ur couch like that? that wasn't here two weeks ag- #jegulus #*gets forcefully elbowed by regulus* #jegulus microfic #jegulus oneshot #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #marauders #lune writes #lune’s tiny fic #trans james potter #ftm james potter #sub james potter #dom regulus black

[honestsycrets]

exclusive | [miguel o'hara x reader, hobie brown x reader]

❛ pairing | fuck buddies: miguel o'hara x reader, hobie brown x reader (background pairing)

❛ type | one-shot, explicit

❛ summary | miguel learns his fuck buddy is fucking Hobie and feels some type of way about it.

❛ tags | heavy jealousy, somnophilia, fuck buddies, multiple partners, undisclosed sexual relationship, dubious consent: aggression/revenge, sloppy seconds, f!reader, lying by omission, spanish is not translated, an attempt at MLE, break ups, eating kitty, bit angsty, older hobie in this piece, break-ups.

❛ reqs fulfilled | Hey! I saw your requests were open and I wanted to know if you'd be down with writing something about Miguel x Reader who has been whining for his cock all day, crying and trying to run from it when he finally gives it to her? & where reader loves him but he doesn't, only for him to eventually fall in love but its too late because she's moved on, or vice versa

❛ sy's notes | here's for the anon that requested i release it. hope you like it, lil buddy.

Miguel wakes early in the morning.

Lyla usually woke him up with a Hey Miguel, Miguel, You have a meeting Miguel-- something teasing and aggravating all at once. That morning his room was so silent that he could nearly feel the heaving and dropping of a second heartbeat. His vision strains as his eyes take focus on the pitch-black room. He takes up the bulk of the bed with his large frame while the pillows are strewn over the floor. Your complaints of-- You never come to find me, you always ignore me. He quickly remembers what happened last night. Your legs were intertwined in his, scaling him like he was another bed in of himself.

"Lyla, what time is it?" he asks, massaging the crook in his neck. The world is quiet in his room. Out there, he knew there would be one problem after another. As soon as he peeled himself from the comfort of your warm embrace. Your legs intertwined in his, keeping him in the warmth of his bed, a spider's web of its own. He hates that he doesn't want to leave. Not yet, anyway. He knows he's in deep.

"About--" she pauses, "Nine o'clock?"

"¿Las nueve?" he shouts, pushing himself up on his thick forearms. "Damn it, Lyla!"

"I would've woken you up sooooner," she draws out in a long tease. "If you weren't too busy pounding your novía until three in the morning."

"She's not my girlfriend," not yet, he bit out, unpeeling your warm legs from his core. A brush more and he would have another type of problem to deal with that morning. As nice as it would have been to lay back down and wait until sleep released its tight grip on you, he had obligations.

"Yeah," she scoffs. "Okay, Miguel."

Lyla knew what he wanted. He wanted this. You-- to help make him forget the past and the future. To forget all the awful things that haunted him day to day. You could do that. He feels your sleepy eyes on him as he turns to sit up in his bed. Your heavy eyelids are cloaked with the ache for sleep. Or half-lidded in fervor for another round. He isn't sure which, yet.

"Te quiero, Miggy," he knows it isn't love you're talking about. Early in the morning, you need sex. He knows how insatiable you are even without your hands slinking around his muscular thigh, inching their way where they had no business going. He cups your hand and pushes away from his softness, knowing he has no time to spare getting worked up. Distracted. It's time to work.

"Manaña. Go back to sleep, I have things to do."

"Tomorrow? I'm not a tomorrow kinda girl, Miggy. " You're that kind of woman-- needy, achy, you need more from him. No matter how much he gave you with attentiveness and care, he could never give you enough. Your words are clear as you turn away, pouting. Miguel throws a look over his shoulder. "You're the only one who treats me like this."

There's the fit. Miguel ran his hand through his hair, shoving it out of his face as he gathers his bearings. You're slack against his back, lips curling into a pout at his suggestion that you'd simply have to wait for more attention.

"No empieces," he throws back. "I spent the night with you two nights in a row."

"To get off. Hobie's right about you. You'd never go to a show'a mine."

If there were ever an interloper in your relationship. It was, and would forever be, Hobie Brown. The displeasure on your face gently pulls at his heart. He's never been to one of your shows before. He's never even asked. It never seemed important to you until now.

He could do that.

"Where and when," his stomach roiled with something he'd distantly call anxiety. There was a truth to what Hobie said, he couldn't be a good boyfriend and take care of spider society all alone. He'd sure as hell try. If you thought Hobie was better, so be it. Miguel wrinkled his nose, concern lining his bushy eyebrows as he stood up, hands on his hips.

"Oh Miggy, that's just what I wanted. It's tomorrow!"

"Tomorrow, then."

Isn't that what he said earlier?

"Hobie!"

It doesn’t matter where it is, your eyes always seem to find Hobie. Ideally, Miguel would like your eyes to always find him. You spent the night in his arms yesterday and the night before that. Perhaps that was why you missed the spider punk. So when he walked into the meeting early that morning and dropped like a rock on the elevated platform you sat on, he wasn’t altogether surprised that you turned around to look at Hobie.

He was, however, surprised to see your hand slink along his plaid thigh, tugging on his lax suspenders. You're late, he heard you whisper. Yeah, what you going to do about it? Hobie reached out, letting his fingertips ghost lines up your arms. Miguel barks out your name, your fingers snapping back as if a spider bit them. They might.

“Oh my days, bruv, we gonna talk about this?” Hobie ripped off his mask, dropping it lazily by your hip. You swept it up and set it on your thighs. He suckled along the roof of his mouth, pulling his lip piercing in and out with a deliberate, slow hiss. “Or you busy watching my side ting?”

"Hobie," you willed him down. Your eyes catch and hold. "Shhh."

“Mans right pussywhipped,” Hobie balked out a laugh, bouncing at that awful word. His jaw tightened at the distinct sound of Hobie’s hands slapping your shoulder. Hobie is in a mood today. He wouldn’t mind if he wasn’t being picked on. “Look at him, is he serious? You mad, man?”

Hobie!

“I’m not.”

“I like the sound of that,” he could hear you whisper into Hobie’s ear, his senses more queued into small whispers than anyone else in the room. You rolled the word along your tongue. "Pussy whipped. You next?"

It was like he wasn’t even there. As if every moment you spent together was irrelevant. The days that the tips of your fingers grazed his shoulder blades, sweeping across his tight muscles. He remembered how it felt, your careful kisses on his neck after a long day, the drag of your nails across his muscular back as you took him so well on the desk he lectured at.

“You bugging? You know that's not happening. You ovulatin' today?”

Miguel prompts your name. You sit upright, his perfect good girl, a whole other person when you weren’t around Hobie. His brow creases and lines of worry and disappointment coalesce into a look that invites you to behave. You were listening now with a blow of a kiss at him as though that would deter him from finding out.

Miguel doesn’t like it when Hobie takes the piss out of him.

He especially doesn’t like that Hobie seems to know the intimate details about your body, like your cycle. That near the end of the month, every month, your sex drive ran wild. He thought it was a myth. None of the other women he had in his bed acted this way. You, however, were insatiable. If he didn’t know better… He flicked his fingers across amber screens, doing something he never did because he had no reason not to trust you. He skimmed your file.

Hobie was a consistent fixture in your life. Always at his damn concerts, clapping wildly at his old runway shows, drinking at the pub. You were an outlier dolled up in soft white, sparkling glitter makeup and darling strawberry blush next to a group of grungy anarchists and foul punks. On any given day, you might hold his head in your lap as your fingers coursed through his wicks. On special days, you buy new jewelry to change out the old. Every weekend, you like to sit on his lap in the pub of the week.

The others were negligible. He could excuse them. Hobie was something more. All it took was one offensive recording of sitting on Hobie’s lap in a seedy bar for his mind to turn red hot.

Despite being populated with many patrons, it didn’t stop you two from fucking in the bar after one of Hobie's loud shows. Others did the same exact shit. The ringing strumming, the shouting, fighting. It wasn't a scene he could see you at.

"Right there, papi, Hobie, there," your hips ground down, sultry moans puffing against his spiked choker while Hobie’s urged you up and down his cock, groping and slapping your ass around his dick. Your pink ballerina flats willing the movement by using the footrest to help guide your motion.

"Good, innit?" You didn't just like it, he realized, you loved it. Your huffy moans, the stares from strangers, the way Hobie commanded the scene. The bartender even threw Hobie a beer. Miguel wasn’t sure if it was Hobie's arrogance that no one was a threat or arrogance that no one would protest, but it pissed him off the same. He fucked you like it was nothing-- like fucking you in front of a host of sleazy men wasn’t a risk in and of itself.

He was too informal with you. He didn't treasure what he had. It was not the same, not like him. He heard your gentle footsteps in the lab. He shifted his weight between his feet, turning to see you hop up the platform. You fluttered your lashes angelically at him. Mi rey, you trilled. Your king. As though he hadn’t just watched you get railed by Hobie only days ago.

It was a fucking trap. A trap he was buying into, drinking you in. You looked pretty without your suit, clothed in a white, fluttery dress that barely kissed your thighs and nothing more. Like a fly to a spider web, he found himself gaping with his lips slightly apart. He brought his hand to his slight mouth, wiping away all inkling of his interest. You pout.

Miguel snapped back to his monitor. It was your scent lingering in the air, hypnotizing his dumb ass, your body eager and ready for him to pound full of his cum. Why else would you be in his lab? When you were strung out on his bed, properly bred, and leaking his cum, he was happy. He was happy with the tremors that wracked through your pathetic legs, that you were finally quiet for once in your damn--

“Oh? What's that?”

Miguel’s attention snapped to your figure, sliding along the edge of his desk, moving his hand without fear. You replaced it on your upper thigh, driving it between your legs. Horny again. His blown pupils followed the motion of your hand. He cursed his body for growing warm at the sight and smell of you. He hardening up as if his body had learned what to expect in the many days of experience fucking you. Most would have reconsidered what they were doing to him. Not you. You had no fear of men. You wanted him. Were you that insatiable?

“Hobie n' me?” you shimmied your shoulders with a knowing grin. The screen paused on a wet, sloppy kiss, Hobie's teeth nipping your lower lip. He was a biter. How had he missed his bites on your neck? Your soft, perfumed hand cradled Miguel's cheek, peppered in stubble. Your lips shifted up, tracing his sharp cheekbones. “Aw. I missed you too, Miggy. I always miss you. You're my big man.”

Yours. He might as well have been yours because you sure as damn weren't his. You led him on your little fingers with words like honey. A soothing honey that threatened to suffocate him in the weight of the words. If he listened long enough, he might fall in. Guilting him about his lack of time for you, Hobie Brown, the relationship you had, the kisses you exchanged, the sex-- the lies you omitted.

Miguel glides the clip away, bringing another to inspect. You remember it-- the day Hobie found out you fucked Miguel after a few hours of reconnaissance went south. You hadn't meant to piss him off. You only meant to take care of your needs. Needs that included sex. He was a means to an end, a brute that could fill what you needed. That much was becoming real clear, real fast.

"It go that bad? He got you in a fit," Hobie says. He can't help but notice you wringing out your suit, flinging it in your half-filled hamper by your bra, standing in nothing but a pair of soiled panties. Bruto, murmured under your breath-- a brute. He was. Hobie flickered his fingers off his guitar, a stray note irritating your hypersensitive ears. You cupped your ears in protest. "Oi, why are you airing me?"

"I'm not ignoring you. I just--" you bit the words, warm dread filling your chest with the next lie you told. You twirled your hands one over another. "I have a sore throat."

"A sore throat."

He wasn't buying that either.

"It's minor. Just a-- tú sabes, a little thing," you turned your hand over, whirling your bra drawer open with enough force to rip it out. Another growl rolled free from your lips, picking a powdery pink set and shoving it promptly back in. The drawer sat off-kilter. Hobie flipped his guitar over his shoulder and met you halfway, his hand warm on your mid back. It should have been comforting. Something in his eyes, even now, felt off. He recovered before you could answer.

"You fucked that man? Are you mad or what, wifey?"

You couldn't help feeling like you cheated on Hobie.

He stood upright, ripping himself away from your body, and brought his hand to his face to focus his thoughts. He had been fucking you for months-- and for months, he missed it. Miguel searched your eyes for a hint of shame or embarrassment. You had none, not even a lick. You were a kid in a panadería. Not only could you have Hobie, with his slender figure and exhibitionist qualities, but Miguel too-- with his big dick and need for love at the end of a long day’s work.

You played him.

His breath hitched as you turned around, shifting your hips back on his. It was enough. He had enough. His hand slammed over the rim, locking you in place against his muscular body. There was nowhere to run, even if you wanted to. You were happy to be there. Miguel wasn’t. His fingers trembled violently, forming a fist. You knew he wouldn't hit you. For all his rumble and roar, Miguel couldn't hurt you nearly as much as you could hurt him.

“You’re fucking Hobie,” he breathed into your ear.

“Mmm.”

A slight, noncommittal noise slipped out from your lips. It was not a denial, but not an agreement either. Irritation rippled across his skin with every damn swish of your round hips against his, shifting weight from one ball of your foot to the other. His body was alight with your soft body drawing trying to draw his pleasure to the surface. You were trying to distract him. Miguel wasn't about to let you.

"Answer me," he bucked his slender hips into yours, forcing you to catch yourself on the desk. You groaned. He had half the mind to fuck you right there, break in your pussy and leave you drooling over his desk. That would be easy. That was what you wanted.

"It's just sex."

“Are you dating him?”

“We don't do labels,” you said.

Miguel wracked your head back by your hair. A strangled moan slipped free from your lips, pleasure rushing to your cunt. You liked it. There were important details he had to know. Like-- if you used protection, or if you were safe when you weren't with him, or how you rid Hobie in raunchy pubs, and if you made out with Hobie until it was time to sleep. You know, important details.

“I do. I don’t share my women.”

“Yours? Fucking a woman ain’t keeping her, Miguel. You never asked me out on a date, put a ring on my finger, nada. It’s sex. Don't pretend like it's anything more."

"Is that all we are?"

"I've been fucking Hobie for months, Miguel. You want me to drop him-- for you? You don't even have time for me in the mornings."

His hand uncurled from your scalp, shoving you into the desk. He leaped off the platform, trudging somewhere, anywhere away from your body. He feared what he might do next if he kept hearing Hobie's damn name on your lips.

He could have done it-- let you have Hobie if you wanted Hobie so badly.

But it bothered him. Of all the women he could have had, he picked you. You were the only one he let grab him, shove him into hallways, suck him off under his desk, and be thankful for the strands of cum painting your nose and cheeks. You were the only one who slept with him at night.

Did Hobie need you the same way? Did he want you the same way Miguel did-- when he was inside of you, clambering over your body like a hungry beast, making you lay there and take him as he laid his brutal thrusts into your pussy. The way he battered your cunt, filled it up with his seed. Watched you heave heavy breaths-- because you were his to fuck and fill. The prospect of filling you up with his cum while Hobie was doing the same thing… ticked him off.

You were his, a territory that Hobie had no business entering. You had none allowing him to. Hobie didn’t claim ownership of anybody or anything at any time. It went against all he stood for. Miguel was inexorable. He wasn’t so bothered about the details. So long as the result was to his satisfaction.

“She’s at home, Miguel,” Lyla squeaked.

“Alone?”

“If you mean with Hobie,” she popped over his shoulder, sitting as if on a cloud in her fluffy jacket. His eyes rolled. “Then yes, he's there.”

"Show me."

"Nah, nah, nah, he's gassing you. How that man not know about us?"

You sat on your kitchen table, plopped with a hunk of pizza between your fingertips from the pizzeria below your house. Hobie's boots were thrown beside your mini-skirt. His chew was lazy and long. You sighed through it. You nipped the last bits of crust and grease off your fingertips.

"No sé. We never been a secret," you wiped off the rest of the grease between your thighs, ignoring the thought of your very first time with Hobie. But it was persistent, tickling the back of your mind, raging havoc on your unsettled heart.

White was your favorite shade. It was light, airy, like the sky. The sensation of falling through tufts of clouds. But it also made the consistent British rainstorms all the more irksome. The way water dribbled down your wet suit, your nipples perked as you rushed into his flat begging for something else to wear, Hobie's laughter dying out into that deep, low hum. His band shirt was ruined with the sticky stains of his cum.

"You thinking about it again?" Hobie read the way your eyes glazed over in an instant. His feet thumped onto the floor, swiveling in his chair and parting your legs. He leaned forward, his hands on either side of your tiny miniskirt. Your eyes tracked his gloved fingers peeking underneath your skirt. Not to pull down your thin panties, but caress small, consoling circles. "Yeah. You are. We just fucked. You're insatiable, wifey. You wet already? Want me again?"

"Hobie," you breathed. "What if he don't come tomorrow?"

"Then he don't," Hobie outstretched his finger, rubbing your soft chin to look up. "You don't need that wasteman."

"I got you?" you slid your fingers down to his slender palm, gliding over the tops of his knuckles. Hobie's lip pulled into a one-sided smirk, nodding to the side.

"Yeah, you got me."

By the time Hobie left, all thoughts of Miguel were non-existent. Mostly, because Hobie fucked you into exhaustion. You were out cold, strewn among fluffy sheets that wreaked of his musk of cigarettes and the sandalwood oil Pavitr gifted him. Hobie’s scent was here, there, everywhere it shouldn’t be as Miguel slunk into your slightly parted window.

Most offensively, Hobie’s cum was dripping out of your cunt. He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. If you wanted him so badly all day, you easily replaced him with Hobie’s dick. He climbed the foot of the bed, watching your face twitch, almost trying to wake up from your sex-fueled haze.

“Mmm,” the small, ineffectual noise caused him to drift his eyes across your silky legs to your lips. There was a gentle pleasure in watching you sleep. He had seen it many times when he crept in the shadows when you were most beautiful. When you were half asleep, your hands draped among fluffy pillows. To be the first sight in the morning, and if possible, the last thing you thought of at night.

If he weren’t so angry with you, you would have been a vision for his sore eyes. His fingertips swerved up and down your inner thigh, curling around until he found your vulva, still swollen and wet from sex with Hobie. Miguel urged his thumb over your swollen clit, zig-zagging along to separate your folds.

As he suspected-- you had fucked him. Miguel urged the cum out of your system with a squeeze of your folds, rolling his fingers along the outer lips. His dilated eyes flickered up, catching a soft sigh in your chest. His fingers breached your wetness, easing the cum free from your body with small sweeps of his fingers.

“Mmm?” you breathed. His fingers slipped away, dragging your hips to his waiting mouth. Caked in the allure of sleep, your moan went without a response. Miguel’s pink tongue separated your folds, small mincing suckles coursing from your entrance to weave around your folds, deliberately avoiding your waiting clitoris.

"Who's it?" The pressure caused your lids to spread apart, lifting your hand from the lush silk pillow under your head to the top of his head. His tongue languidly coursed back down, poking at your entrance. The coziness of your sleep faded away. You dropped a hand to the top of his head to run through his thick dark brown hair, his sharp eyes flicking up to meet yours. Miguel could definitely have been a dream, but he wasn't.

“Miggy… I missed you,” you complained, reaching for the soft pink strawberry he won you once upon a time at a carnival. You had to beg, and beg, and blow his cock under his desk to get him to go. You looked so damn cute. Innocent. You were neither. “You should have come earlier--”

“To see you fuck Hobie?” he blew warm air against your cunt. Your hips shuttered against his face, thighs knocking his sharp cheekbones.

"You're still mad at me." This time, shame surely caught in your chest, a tremor of mean pleasure was minced with the pain of letting Miguel down. He knew it did. You wouldn't look him in the eye again but gripped the comforting strawberry a little harder.

“Considering you fucked him after we spoke, it’ll stay that way.” Miguel rose his hand to caress the outside folds as he worked, slurping the inner ones between his lips. You winced when his wet finger slid inside your hole. It squished obscenely, hungry and wet for his touch after such a tiresome day of longing.

“It’s-- it’s still sensitive.”

“I don’t care. You lied to me.” A brief glance at any watch would reveal that you’d barely slept at all. Miguel wouldn’t let you have rest, not if he could hold you accountable for your games with his heart and dick. His lush lips closed over your clit, flickering and sucking sloppily, drawing shocks of pleasure down your spine. You dug the heel of your palm into the sheets, struggling to slide out from under him. It was too much to wake up to after a fuck with Hobie who, from his files, apparently just loved to edge you.

"No, you don't. Come here." Miguel lurched his arm around your waist, dragging you back onto his face. Ah! Your hand shot to his forearm, battling out with his upper body strength to push him off. You couldn’t. Miguel was too strong. He was going to make you cum.

Pressure welled up in your stomach, forming a blinding burst of pleasure that threatened to let go. You knew it was coming. You knew there was nothing you could do about it but let him force another orgasm out of your cunt, twirling his fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. In place of a sweet, soothing orgasm, hard pleasure ripped down your spine. It nearly hurt, forced out by his flicking tongue. Your legs tremored around his head, cupping him in place until you couldn’t give him any more of your sweet love.

“Miguel, Miguel please--” Warm tears pricked your cheeks, sliding down to your jaw. He kept his eye on you. Your skin was warm, mind dizzy, wracked with his complaints. “I didn't mean to lie to you. I promise. You-- you never asked.”

“Shut up,” Miguel forced your hips off his face with a sharp shove. Your hips bounced on the bed, a broken cry slipping from your lips at his abuse. He came for one thing, one thing only, and fuck more foreplay. Somedays he had the temperament for it. Today, with your daring admission that you had been fucking Hobie, he had none. "I don't want more pretty lies."

"They aren't lies," you bit out, scrambling underneath him, legs tightening shut. You just needed a moment to explain-- and if holding sex back would do it, you'd try. Miguel pulled himself free of his suit and pulled you back into place. Overstimulated tears pricked your eyes, "Miggy please-- Not yet--"

He looked down at you, eyes unfeeling, unreceptive to your pleas. His cock bobbed over the top of your vulva, thick and hard, dribbling with anticipation to replace Hobie’s cum with his. You bit hard on your lower lip, sucking your tongue over the loose cuts. “If you would have asked--”

“Since you’re so insatiable, you’re going to take this dick next,” Miguel gave a few lax jerks at the base, lining up his cock with your tense entrance. He felt you clench your walls, some piteous attempt to keep him out, to allow you to explain.

“I'm still sensitive, Miggy, please. Slow down, you're too big--”

“Think about this next time you fuck that punk.”

Despite your protests, Miguel pushed the head of his cock into your entrance. A moan wracked free from your lips. He knew it was your favorite part, the way he split you wide on his cock, pulling your walls apart. He bottomed out balls deep in your cunt, finally looking so full-- so full of Miguel after a long, arduous day of teasing him for just this. Your hand came to your stomach, buried so deep you swore you could feel him in your guts. Your lashes fluttered, recognizing that this Miguel-- this Miguel wasn’t the man you knew. Not the one who was cold out there, patient in your bedroom. Something snapped. You cracked him.

“¡Ay!” you exclaimed, then clamped your mouth shut. He wasn't going to accept any complaints. Miguel’s hands clasped over your lower ribs, the slide of tears down your soft cheeks biting your skin raw. “Miggy, Miggy.”

“After all that teasing today, you can’t take my dick?”

“You’re too-- you’re too thick.”

“Tragedy, you’ll have to take me anyway,” he mocked, sliding his forearm underneath your head to keep you stable. Your skin prickled, wanting to believe the closeness he forced was as much for you as him. Your hands came to his chest, bundling up his suit between your fingertips. You needed something to anchor to. Your legs bobbed around his hips as he drew his smooth thrusts into you. Long, punctuated sweeps of his cock filled the deepest parts of your body over and over, stretching your sweet cunt full of him. “What? Am I not enough?”

“No, you are! I just, I love him--” your legs pathetically clung to his hips, trying to force Miguel’s full, sweeping thrusts to slow. Between the two men, you would be sore the next morning. Love him-- the words earned an intensity of his thrusts that you could only try to slow down by squeezing your walls around him. All this time he thought it was him, his inability to bend to your every need when you wanted it done. Your whines drifted off, melding into sweet, gentle moans of approval with every deep swipe of his hips knocking into your cervix. Wet, sloppy kisses marked your neck-- and if you weren't mistaken, the soft tickle of his own tears. The sensation of his liquid need, the hiss of his breath, bounced against your neck. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to be.” His other hand jammed between your legs, flicking at your already pulsing clit once again. It hurt how badly you needed it. You pulsed over his dick, a flurry of frantic perdóname slipping free from your lips over and over, a disc stuck on repeat. Miguel’s moans ripped through the room, the desire for air a secondary thought. You never heard him so loud, so enraged, even earlier today.

You came, wet and sweet over his swollen dick, for the second time since he showed up. A fourth since Hobie was here. You couldn't breathe, pinned between his chest and the bed. Your thighs tremored piteously around him, searing with pleasurable heat. You accepted his last frantic thrusts, marked by a sharp grunt. His wet cum spilled into you, hips snapping to your core to ensure you took every last bit of his seed. You buried your head between pillows and his fist under your neck, tightening and loosening. Your head was thumping, sweat cloaking his suit. When Miguel was finally spent, he pulled free, gloops of cum slipping free along with him. He threw you a look, recording the memory of your ruined body in his mind.

“Miguel--” you reached out. Or tried to. He jerked to the edge of your fluffy bed, his hands wrangling sweat out of his long hair.

“Let's stop seeing each other."

Seconds passed before you could articulate the right words, watching his chest rise and fall with the tension. He fit himself back into his suit, throwing a glance over his muscular shoulders when you cried his name. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Only…

“I… I didn’t know you would care.”

He steeled himself to your words from the gentle touch of your fingers on his elbow, trying to reason with him to lay in bed. He wouldn’t. Not this time. You crawled over, trying again. Realistically, you held little hope that he'd let you touch him. Not if he was banishing you from his life. Optimistically, all he could do was throw you off again. You considered yourself lucky that he allowed your arms to slide about his waist and press your breasts against his rising and falling back.

“I did.” But he acted as though he didn't. The words felt small as if they didn't fit in your mouth. He cared. Miguel ran his hand down, then up his head again, exhaling a wilting breath. "Mira… let me go," he sighed, loathing the words on his tongue. He wasn't enough. He knew he wasn't. "I'm in the way."

"In the way? Miguel, you're never in my way."

You couldn't be this dull. Miguel loosened your hands around his waist, glancing toward Hobie's miscellaneous shoes at the foot of your bed. Your intermingled jewelry in ceramic little pots. Maybe he did see it. Maybe he wanted to ignore it, to convince you he was enough. Maybe he was the one that appeared every time you two were alone, not the other way around. And maybe he was the interloper.

"In Hobie's way. You can’t believe that he isn’t jealous.”

“Hobie doesn’t get jealous.”

“You're blind. Everyone gets jealous,” he scoffed. “Even him.”

“Even you?”

That shuts him up. You watched as he pushed himself off the bed, stretching out his neck and heading out your bedroom window. This time, you wouldn’t follow him to the lab, slink into his bed. This time, you knew he wouldn’t come back. It was better, this way, your lives playing out apart from one another. Some lives can't be pieced back together once their web breaks.

#miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #atsv imagine #atsv imagines #atsv x you #atsv x reader #across the spiderverse imagines #across the spiderverse imagine #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #atsv miguel imagine #miguel o'hara/reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel x you #miguel o’hara angst

[luveline]

ah I saw that you were asking for poly!m and like <3 <3 <3 I love them so much. loved your blurb of them with r and the chicken wire <3 if you're still asking, what about remus and r cheering for the boys at a sports thing and they're literally disgustingly sweaty but they all just love each other I'll cry

thank you for your request! you and your guys after a rugby win <3 fem!reader cw suggestive

Remus' hand is the only warmth to be found for a half a mile. 

"Come on, Sirius!" he bellows, pulling your hand along with his incensed movement. 

You look out at the field to find your boy, Sirius making a sprint for the end zone. If he can score this last try —five points for the team— he'll win the game. James is right behind him, and you think for a moment that Sirius is going to pass the ball back. 

Sirius isn't even supposed to be playing today. James had begged him as a favour after a freak disaster wherein no other players were available, and when Sirius does play its as a back, because he's fast and springy. And yet. Two threes down the field, nearly three quarters, Remus' hand tightening in yours, and– 

"Go on!" Remus shouts, the two of you flying to your feet. 

You scream something completely incoherent and bounce up and down, a high-pitched squeal that can't be helped. You're drowned out anyhow by the team's followers behind you. James' team isn't a Top 14 contender or anything but that doesn't mean they aren't good, or that the fans aren't out in droves today to see the game, held in your home stadium. The feat of Sirius' accomplishment is clear — the stands shake with cheering, and the clock counts down. The game is finished, and James' team has won. 

You and Remus are so excited, you scream until your throat hurts. 

"Remus, he did it!" you shout unnecessarily, turning to Remus, throwing your arms around his neck. 

"Oh god, we're never gonna hear the end of it!" he shouts back. 

It's not Sirius who won't let you hear the end of it. 

"Did you see him?" James asks when you reunite, changed into his new clothes but still, undeniably, dripping with sweat and adrenaline. "Did you see? He ran like the fucking wind." 

Sirius stands behind him. It's very obvious he's trying not to smile. 

You can't decide who to hug first but Remus makes the decision for you when he practically knocks Sirius down. 

"You fucking did it," Remus says. 

Sirius lets himself smile, then.

You sidle into James open arms and frame his face with your hands. "You played so well, Jamie, you must feel so proud of yourself." You brush sweat-slicked curls behind his ear unflinchingly. 

"We played amazing," he agrees, leaning down for a kiss. 

It's celebratory and congratulatory and also just mushy. You pull back and lean in again straight away,  deciding what you have to say will have to wait. You kiss and kiss and stroke his hair away from his face. He's not nearly as nice, post game roughness in the way his lips part under yours. You yank back before he can involve you in some unsavoury public snogging. 

"You played amazing James," you say, "you always do." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

You look over James' shoulder at a Sirius' pout. Remus still has an arm around his neck, but that's never stopped you before. You laugh and pretty much jump at Sirius' lean chest, pleased when Remus puts a hand over your back to steady you. 

"You know you played well," you say, brushing at Sirius' clean shaven cheek with a loving thumb. You beam at him, burying your face in the crook of his clammy neck. "Oh, you played so well. You're amazing. I'm so proud of you." 

You pull away from the two of them, and all four of you stand in a love bubble in the middle of the room, which you try not to do. It happens more often than you'd think. 

"Woah, wait," Sirius says. "I'm a gentleman, and I don't believe in coercion, but I do believe in fairness, and we all saw the way Prongs just laid into you–" 

"If you want a kiss, Sirius, you only have to ask," James says. 

You nibble your lip and move to Sirius again, feeling the slightest bit shy at his proclamation. You know that he wants to kiss you, as you want to kiss him, or Remus or James, but what Sirius doesn't always realise is that he's intimidating in his manner. Like Remus in bed, or James when he's tired, Sirius is always a little stern. He brings out your timidness. 

"He's put her on the spot," James says sympathetically. 

"Look at how cute she gets, every bloody time," Remus laments. 

You laugh under your breath and screw your eyes closed. Sirius doesn't make you suffer, simply leans down and kisses you, his attention to your top lip. It's definitely not the kind of kiss you should share in public, not because it's especially salacious: it's charged. You worry the entire room is watching him melt you, but thankfully Sirius steps back before you can burst into flame. 

"You did play really well," you say. You sound as dizzy as you feel. 

Sirius laughs genuinely, his hand following over your head to behind your shoulders. "Thanks, doll." 

The boys spend some time talking to people you don't know and then you're homeward bound, James pulling a concerned Remus, two pale hands wrapped around his wrist. "Where's your brace?" Remus murmurs, not looking where he's going. 

"It's in my bag, it was too sweaty to keep on." 

Remus probes at James' wrist. "Doesn't it hurt?"

"Does when you do that, handsome." 

You grin and swing your hand in Sirius', right behind them. 

"You must be really tired, now," you say. 

Sirius looks down at you with a charmed smile. "Not too bad, my love… You know, after a game, you're supposed to do some light training. Relax the muscles." 

"Really?" you ask. "What kind of training?" 

"It's the high impact, you need something to wind down afterward. And it's all legwork, of course–" 

You make a disbelieving sound in the back of your throat. "Of course. I'm sure we can find something to save your poor muscles." 

He pulls you in by the arm and leans down to kiss you, but you stop him, dipping your chin away from his searching mouth. 

"Sirius? Recovery training usually happens the day after a match. You know what they recommend immediately after?" You lift your chin until he can feel each word against his lips. "Rest." 

His breath is hot against your face.

"Well," Remus says, cutting through the quiet, "it's a good thing I don't need to do that." 

He and you both burst into pleased laughter, leaving your gutted sportsmen to glare at you sullenly. 

"When have I ever needed rest after a match?" James argues. 

"That's true. James is back in." Remus beams at Sirius, your joking a lightness that brightens his entire face. "Guess you'll just have to watch, Siri." 

#poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfic #the marauders #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader

[astroboots]

Past Lives

Author's note: Prequel to Every You Ever Me (but can be read as standalone).

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You meet Miguel O'Hara for the first time in a life-changing encounter.

Word count: 1.3k words

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You're standing on platform B at Main Street station, teeth chattering as you zip up your jacket. You're freezing your tits off.

This is why you don't like going all the way to Flushing. As bad as the stations get closer to the city, reeking of piss, body odor and stale vomit, at least it's always warm underground. Out here, there's no shelter, the tracks are exposed to elements.

It seems as if you are the only one stupid enough to come out here at 6 am on a Sunday, because there's barely anyone else here on the platform.

It's dreary and dark. The leftover snow has melted leaving only grey sludge and a slipping hazard behind.

From the corner of your eyes, you spot movement on the tracks.

You don't think much of it at first. Must be another oversized rodent feasting on discarded pizza, except... it's much too large for that, maybe a dog?

Your head whips back to get a closer look and the sight has your blood freezing to ice.

Is... Is that a man?

You stare at the bulky build crouched over on the tracks. Even as he's bent down, you can see that the man must be freakishly all.

"Sir?" You call out hesitantly.

He doesn't answer you. Doesn't pay you any attention at all. Is he drunk? He's dressed in dark blue spandex from head to toe, obscuring any facial features, wearing a sparkling Lucha Libre mask like he's on his way to WWE.

Yeah, definitely drunk then.

You glance up nervously at the departure board. The green LED light ominously reads: "4 Min".

If the man doesn't get off the tracks he's going to be pancaked by the oncoming train.

Walking up closer to the ledge, you shout across to him. "Hey! You need to get off the tracks."

He doesn't move out of the way.

Shit!

You don't understand. How did he get there. There wasn't anyone on there just a second ago. You would've heard if someone had jumped down from the platform. Where did he come from? Did he materialize out of thin air?

"There's an oncoming train," you try again. It doesn't make a lick of difference from the first time you shouted.

Why you think you can talk sense into a drunk who seemingly can't hear you (or is pretending to not hear you) is beyond you.

Glancing up at the board, you only have 3 minutes left now. It would be entirely too late to call for staff to help. By the time they'd show up the man would already be tomato paste across the tracks.

"Sir!" you shout again. But nothing.

Shit. shit shit shit.

He's not moving of his own accord. The only thing that could get him to budge would be to tackle him... which is absurd for you to do. You must be nearly half his size.

But what else are you supposed to do? Stand by and watch a man die?

You get queasy at the doctors when they draw blood for check ups. You cry when the dog dies in a horror movie. You would never be able to walk away from a man dying, only a few feet away from you. It would haunt you for the rest of your life.

In the corner of your eyes, 3 minutes turn to 2. Before you have the time to slow down your thoughts and properly think, you're already scooting down against the ledge and jumping down the track.

What the fuck are you doing. Why are you risking your life for a drunken stranger?

Your heart is hammering through your chest, beating its way up your throat. You feel queasy with adrenaline as you squeeze your eyes tightly shut.

In the total darkness behind your eyes, you leap forward, with your entire body weight as you slam into him.

There's an angry growl of surprise as you make contact. The man is built like a brick wall. It's like you ran up to a building and collided with hard concrete.

Both of you tumble across the tracks and in that split second that seems to last forever, there is a pandemonius roar that bellows out behind you. Wind whips past your side so hard that it's painful, and you think to yourself that maybe you didn't make it in time.

Except you did.

Because when you open your eyes, instead of eternal darkness all you see are scarlet red eyes, staring up at you with wide shock. You've never seen eyes like this before. They shine like rubies even in the dim dark.

Underneath the blue mask, the man is gorgeous. All sharp angles, and cut jaw with pouty lips that belongs to a Hollywood starlet-- Wait where's the mask?

You could've sworn that he was wearing a mask over his face before.

You don't get to contemplate on that thought for long. There's a flash of glaring light blinding you, the grinding screech of gears closing in.

Oh fuck.

The northbound train is arriving.

You need to get up. Need to climb over the ledge before it's here. You try to raise yourself up on your elbows, but the strength is zapped out of you. Rubble digs into your knees. Everything stings and burns.

The yellowed lights are too close, the screeching of metal is right in your ears.

Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh god! There isn't enough time. You're going to die.

A strong grip envelops your waist, hoisting you up. The ground below you disappears. You don't know how, but gravity seems to fall away, and you find yourself high up in the air as the sight of train tracks recedes.

You're flying.

Looking up, you see the man's face once again covered in the blue mask from before. He's holding onto you with one arm, while the other is stretched outwards into the empty air. There's web connecting his hand to the sky as he swings you through the landscape of Flushing beneath your feet.

From up here, even something as vast as New York looks small.

He lands the both of you on solid ground, on a nearby rooftop, arms still wrapped firmly around you as he sets you down on your toes and doesn't let go until the back of your heel is firmly planted.

You on the other hand, are still holding onto him tightly. Hands in a death grip into the muscle of his forearm.

Up close, he's staggeringly tall. The angle you have to crane your neck to look up at him feels unnatural, like you're observing a landmark monument, not just a person.

The mask disintegrates, the red and blue material disintegrating to reveals his face to you again.

You're too stupefied by the events that have taken place in the last few minutes to react appropriately

"Are you--" you start, but you don't know how else to finish that sentence. Is he what? What do you want to ask him after he flew up in the sky and saved you? Is he human? an alien? Do you ask him what just happened? Where he came from? Why the hell he was on the train tracks and didn't move! even though you told him to?

You blink up at him, running through each one of the questions and stupidly instead, you settle for the simplest one of all.

"Are you okay?"

He's smiling at you, an amused expression glinting in his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he answers.

Stretching out an arm above him, a string of web shoots out from the palm of his hand into the sky.

"See you around," he says. Then he swoops into the air and he’s gone. 

Author's notes: I got some questions a while back about how Miguel meets Nena, and this is part of that answer.

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#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman #marvel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #mcu #oscar isaac #spiderverse

[webslingingslasher]

let 🥡 smash ethan keznek 2023

— 🥡

that moment when you hook peter's best friend up w someone -tbh this could be an intro to more ethan works. this was me testing the waters.

peter told you not to get involved; too bad you don’t need permission.

however, you didn’t want to get scolded before necessary, so, you creeped out of peter's bed one early morning, gently removing his arm from your waist, sending him to roll over on his stomach with a harsh snore.

walking on tip toes before slowly opening his bedroom door, closing it by turning the doorknob all the way for a silent latch. keeping the same stealth for ethan’s door.

he's still sleeping and doesn't falter for even a second after you click the door shut.

his room was much brighter than peter’s. you had no idea how he could sleep in it. for the third year, he’s refused to get curtains. ���why would i waste my money? think about it, when you go to bed it’s dark, so what’s it matter?”

ethan’s nuzzled into a pillow, his mouth open as he breathes harshly. you look behind you, paranoid peter's followed you into the room, about to catch you with your hand in the cookie jar, but you’re shut in alone.

poking at his shoulder his body slumps more to the side, you poke again. he stops breathing for a second, then takes a large inhale, smacking his lips and raising the sheets up to his chin.

“pst.... ethan,” you poke several times.

“ethan!” a whisper means nothing, you shake his arm hard. it sends him flying up, nearly smacking your forehead with his, his eyes not caught up to who woke him, about to shout, you cover his mouth with your hand.

“we have to be quiet, peter can’t know.”

he's awake in a second, alarm bells ringing in his head.

his body flies backwards, his back hitting the wall his bed’s against. you wince at the collison, his voice pitched.

“no. no way, man. i’m not doing that to him. parker’s all about you, i can’t do that.”

you sit on the edge of his bed and crawl until your knees are brushing against his shins.

“shhh! don't worry about it, he doesn't have to find out, you know? we can keep it between us. just be quiet, okay?"

ethan's shaking his head in a fury, "no, i can't. we can't. this isn't you, if you leave now i'll... i'll keep it between us."

"c'mon it's not the first time i've kept a secret from peter."

his voice tilted, "you've done this before?"

"well... i try not to make it a habit or anything. but, he doesn't need to know everything does he?"

ethan looks away from you, his figure deflated. "ah, trouble. that's... that's not cool. he really, really loves you. like, more than he's loved anyone. this is gonna break his heart."

you furrow your eyebrows and reach out to pat his arm, he rips it away from you. "ethan, it's not that serious. he'll be annoyed but he's not gonna hate me."

"no, this is gonna fucking ruin him. you don't understand what he's done to become the person you deserve. or, i guess now it's the person he thought he deserved."

you want to throw a tantrum, "why are you being so mean? you're not mean to me, ever. that's why i like you."

ethan sits up, "mean? i'm being mean? you're the one trying to fuck your boyfriends best friend and i'm the one being targeted?"

it takes a second, but your eyes go wide and you gasp.

"oh no! no, no. that's not what's happening right now, ethan. i see-" you clear your throat and look away from him for a second, slightly embarrassed. "i see how you could think that, i was being a little cryptic."

"uh huh."

you feel offended, "woah, okay, don't act like i'm switching stories because you rejected me. cause that's not what's happening."

ethan narrows his eyes, "uh. huh."

"don't think so low of me, that hurts! i was trying to- alright fine, hold on, let me start over."

you shake your shoulders out and take a deep breath, "technically, you're like... half right. i am trying to get you laid, but like... not.. with me?"

he’s weary, “uh huh. and parker can’t know?”

you shake your head, “okay, see, the funny this is, i told him to tell you and he said no, so i said i’d tell you, and he told me not to get involved. but, i mean, i have a good feeling about this!”

it goes quiet for a moment, you can almost hear him thinking about your words. scratching at his head, hair sticking straight up. ethan rubs his nose before shaking his head with the new information.

“okay, hold on,” he hold his hand up, “you want me get me laid, but not with you, and also, parker can’t know you want to get me laid, but not with you?”

you nod, “yes, exactly.”

ethan hasn’t bought a word of your shit. too many excuses. he takes a deep inhale, then explodes, “parker! park-“ you dive bomb into him, laying halfway across him while you slap your hand over his mouth. he gives you wide eyes, holding his hands up, scared to touch you.

if peter were to catch him with you on him like this, especially if he's touching you, he'd be a dead man.

you're thrown over his lap, he's only in boxers and you're only in his best friends shirt, and he doesn't have a good feeling about you having super short pants underneath it.

you didn't even hear the door open, just breathing harshly down at his friend. you hiss at him, “shut up!” ethan looks petrified, “i told you, peter can’t know!”

your shirt is tugged from behind, it goes tight on your throat. a third voice is in the room. “off.” it’s stern, but not upset. it makes you turn politely, batting your eyelashes at your boyfriend innocently.

“it’s not what it looks like,” because given the position, you’re half straddling ethan while he’s ninety eight percent naked. peter nods, “i know it’s not. it’s worse, you got involved.”

deny, deny, deny.

“nope, actually, i’m laying it on thick. this entire thing has been a ploy to get to ethan the entire time."

your shirts tugged again, this time stricter, "off." you back up gently, trying not to brush against him too much, peter nodding apologetically at his best friend when he's untrapped.

"sorry, e. i told her to leave you alone."

"but, peter!" you struggle agaisnt his hold, "c'mon, ethan! just hear me out, i mean, aren't you just a little curious?"

now he knows you were being truthful and weren't trying to secretly hook up with him he's a tad interested, and if you're so sure about this why would peter keep some tail from him?

"well... since we're all up."

peter scoffs and pushes you towards his bed, "fuck this, i'm going back to sleep. keep your body off of his, alright, trouble?" you salute him, "okay! see you in a minute, love you," you hit him with a kissy face, he supplies, "uh huh, sure."

you clasp your hands and grin at ethan, "okay, so," you sit back down next to him on his bed, turning your body to face him better, "her name is taylor, and she's super into you."

"and she's your friend?" it would make sense why peter didn't want him to know. it's a dangerous road to tag-team them both.

"well... she kinda is now. we met at a party here, i was going to the bathroom and she walked into peter's room, cause she was also looking for the bathroom, and then we started talking cause she walked in on me mid piss, and she's actually so cool."

you talk with your hands, "like, i dunno, you guys just have a similar vibe and i can just feel like it's a good thing. and i told peter about it but he was just like, 'you guys were just drunk,' and 'this is a set up, i don't trust it.'"

ethan's doing his best to follow you but it's seven in the morning.

"a set up?"

"peter doesn't trust it because he thinks she asked me if i could help her out with you."

"why?"

"she shares an economics class with you, and parties here a lot, and knows i'm dating peter so when we met it was like fate."

"and...?"

well, there's not much after that.

"i mean, that's kinda it. she likes you and she's really cool and you make her nervous so i figured i'd try and help her out."

ethan gives you a dumb face and pulls his blanket back over him, "you woke me up for that? get outta here, go back to parker."

you frown and pull at his arm, "no, no, no, hear me out. she's coming to the party tonight, just let me introduce you guys. and just so you know, she didn't ask for this. i just have a good feeling, you know, like how you did with peter and i?"

and ethan has to give you the benefit of the doubt, he clicks his tongue after he thought it over.

"alright, i'll meet her. but no promises."

you squeal and pull him in for a hug, which he shrugs off and wipes your touch off him. "gross."

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

peter's busy directing a pledge around but your thing is more important.

rushing up to him you rest your hands on his chest, he doesn't even spare you a glance. "just move it over there, no! not- can you understand directions?"

growing impatient you push against him, "peter," his hands wrap around you, pulling you in for a hug, eyes on the struggling teen, "yes, trouble?"

"do you-"

peter whispers a curse under his breath, his chest hums under your ear. "c'mon, pledge! you're not even trying, just put the fucking table to the right." furniture scrapes of the floor and makes a horrible sound, you wince until peter's hands cup your ears, muffling the movement.

when his hands pull away you have his undivided attention, "sorry, trouble. what did you need?"

"do you know what ethan's wearing tonight?"

an unimpressed glance, "no, i don't think it's come up." a frown settles on your face, "okay, can i go check with him then?" your boyfriend sighs, "if you must, but, hey, trouble? i think this is a terrible idea."

"she didn't even ask me to say anything, petee-e-e?" almost letting the name slip around his brothers. "nice save, sweetheart. correct, she didn't ask, but it sounds like she was suggesting it."

"if you love me, you'll trust me when i say i have a good feeling."

peter can't deny that logic. blowing a breath he kisses the top of your head, "alright, go figure out what ethan's wearing then." before you could pull away from his hold he talks over your head, his chest vibrating while he spoke.

"i swear to god, pledge, you'll be cut, i'll send you out of here right fucking now." you poke his ribs, "be nicer and maybe he'll do better. you're freaking him out."

"are you telling me how to run my house?" you shrug and nudge into him further, "give it a try, you never know."

peter snaps his fingers, "jensen," the pledge jumps, "take a five. you're doing great, alright?" and seeing the refreshed smile on the kids face was proof enough for you.

"see? i'm always right."

"yeah, yeah, yeah."

-----------

it took a few hours, but taylor showed up. the second you saw her you did a happy dance in peter's hold, pure adrenaline had you boosting yourself up to kiss his jawline.

"taylor's here, should i find ethan now?"

a gentle pat at your back, "give the girl a second, maybe some liquid courage?"

you whine, "but i'm so excited! they're gonna date, and fall in love and then we'll go on double dates all the time." peter winced at your daydream, "i know, that's why i tried to forbit it."

ignoring him, as you've grown accustomed to, you keep the thoughts spinning. ethan had agreed to letting you introduce them, and taylor doesn't know you asked ethan, and taylor knows ethan but he doesn't know her.

so, if you could get them together, without getting them together, it would be even better. it would be like fate aligned, then, after they meet, you could act shocked when you tell ethan that's the taylor you were talking about.

your plan just might work, if you had a little help. demanding the attention you already have, you repeatedly poke at peter's chest. "hear me out, we set them up but kinda do a meet cute. cause then they're more in control than just some friends introducing them."

your boyfriend shook his head, "we? since you became my girlfriend it's a lot of 'we', this time it's a you. i want no part of this, trouble."

you wave him off, "no, you're obsessed with me. so, i'm thinking we try and get them to play a game of pong together, i mean, you'll have to get ethan in the kitchen but-"

peter's adamant, "no, no me. peter's not involved." to solidify his point he grew an invisible cross over his body.

tugging on his arm, you pout, "no! you have to! you're my boyfriend now, you can't be mean peter again."

"i'm not being mean! i'm just telling you i want no involvement, don't start with me."

it was honestly so rude of him to do this to you, "you're going to make me do this all alone?" peter can't help but laugh, "baby, this is all because of you."

it's true but he's supposed to support you no matter what.

"peter, please?" you think the puppy dog eyes are working, because he softens up, "trouble," you smile, waiting for his agreement, "no."

instantly grumpy, you swipe his hands off you, "oh, hey, don't be like this." you shake your head, "no, you hate me."

"for the six billionth time, i don't hate you."

"no, you-" you stop dead in your tracks, at least some universal force would help you out. because, who other than ethan would walk into the room taylor's in? no one, that's who.

"peter, do you see this right now?"

your back is pulled into his chest, an arm slung around your waist. "i do."

"what do we do?"

"nothing."

"i knew you'd say..." you hold your breath when taylor takes a few timid steps in ethan's direction. he's careless, humming to the song blasting and moving liquor bottles around. right when she got close enough for him to notice she backed off, turning right back for her friends.

"swing and a miss, trouble."

spinning in your boyfriend's hold you nod towards the kitchen, "i have to intervene."

"no, no you don't."

"yes, i have to. so, tell me you love me."

"no, it always encourages you to be bad."

"if i know you love me then i know you won't dump me. so, tell me you love me."

"nope, not happening, i don't condone this."

"peter! tell me you love me or i'm going to cry and know you hate me."

a groan, "trouble, i love you very much," you cheer, that's all you needed.

peter's hand caught yours to stop you from your plan, "but i don't like this. make your own decisions, and know i love you while you make them, but the idea of what you're doing makes me want to eat rocks."

"i stopped listening after 'trouble, i love you very much.'"

"of course you did. alright, fine, go play matchmaker."

you have his permission, it sends you across the living room and into the kitchen, bumping hips with peter's best friend.

"hi, friend," ethan looks up, ripping a chewed straw from his mouth.

"hello, trouble. how can i be of service?"

buying time you gesture to the array of bottles, "wanna make me one?" ethan hands you his cup, "try this first." your eyes flicker to the door way, taylor's tucked against the wall nibbling on her bottom lip when she sees you drink from his cup.

"yummy, make me a double."

"aye aye, captain."

you hum and tap your fingers on the counter, "any plans for tonight?" as he answers your question you scratch at a stain on his hat, "didn't you want me to meet your friend?"

"ooh, and we're planning the night around it?"

"more like hoping to get it out the way," ethan hands you your own solo cup. twisting ever so slightly, you line it up so that taylor's right behind your left shoulder, hoping ethan would glance up at any moment.

"she almost walked up to you, but split halfway through."

ethan's frowning when he pulls his drink down, the straw he was chewing on going back in his mouth.

"i'm not that scary, am i?"

"c'mon, ethan. ever had a crush?" he moves his head around, "sure, but at least i always went after what i wanted."

his eyes flicker up, and you know he's locked eyes with taylor. you can tell when he slowly stops chewing, his focus bouncing back to you, then behind you.

"is your friend around here or can we meet up later?"

you won, peter's going to be so annoyed, but you won.

"she's around, but we'll catch up." you pat his arm, "thanks for the drink, double."

ethan winked, "no problem, trouble."

peter rolled his eyes the second you made his way to him, "they're talking, do you see them talking?"

"ethan looks like he's having fun, morgan looks like she's about to puke."

"her name is taylor, and she's nervous!"

peter nods and finishes his drink, "taylor looks like she's about to puke."

you move to push at peter's back, his feet glue themselves to the floor while trying to look back at you.

"what are yo-"

"go get a drink and tell me what they're talking about."

he scoffs, "and i'm supposed to casually go out of my way to hang out behind them, just to get a jist of awkward flirting?" you know how much he hates it, and detests it, but this time he may give in.

"that's not the only way to listen in..." you trail waiting for him to catch the hint, he shuts it down immediately. "no. not happening." you push against his back, "c'mon, you never let me use your hidden talents."

peter leans back into your hands, "because if i do it once you'll want me to do it all the time." it's unfair and you use the same argument, "you know how much i like him and you never let me play with him."

"you play with him plenty, just not with the tricks."

you pull back to rope around his front, you give him doe eyes.

"just one time, i promise i will never, ever ask again."

peter knows he's playing with fire, he's made a clear line in the sand when it comes to you and spider-man but something in him tells him you really need this.

"just this once, i mean it, trouble."

you grab onto his shoulders, "really, you will? for me?"

"this is your one time pass, you wanna waste it on this?" he knows, and you know, this isn't the last time, but if he pretends it is maybe you'd back out.

"i have a good feeling." peter sighs and moves you to the side, "i'll be right back," you feel giddy, it's the first time you'll see spider-man in action. you zone in on your boyfriend, he moves around like normal, gets a drink, cleans up the counter a little, and you feel a tad disappointed.

peter seems totally normal, it makes sense, he's gotten used to flying under the radar. you watch ethan and taylor, she seems nervous but excited. she's laughing, you think it's a good thing.

it doesn't even look like peter's listening, you wonder if he's just acting like he his. you look around and don't see anyone, you speak low, nothing above a mumble in the music.

"peter? can you hear me?" he's pouring a drink from one cup to another, you huff, "peter." no reaction, "you're the worst boyfriend ever."

in a second he turns his neck, his eyes narrowed on your face while you look down to your feet. he was listening, and it makes you feel all melty. "i didn't mean it, i love you."

his look says 'no you don't.'

you're talking for the both of you, "it looked like you weren't paying attention, you're good at it." he takes an extra minute, then heads back.

you're swaying on your feet, excited for the new update.

"well?"

"it's going good."

"i swear to fucking god, peter, you give me more information right now or i'll dump you."

he holds his hand out, "alright, chill. your friend is smooth in an awkward way and ethan's eating it up. they've got some good banter going on, i'd be surprised if he didn't at least get her number tonight."

you squeal, "do you think he'll kiss her?" peter shrugs while he takes a sip from his solo cup. "probably."

"do you think he's made the connection that she's the taylor i was telling him about?"

he nods, "yeah."

"cool. what now?"

"nothing. you got what you wanted. just sit back and hang out."

"no! that can't be it! it doesn't feel satisfying. i need more!"

"this isn't a movie, trouble. you can't just skip to the good part."

"you're telling me you can't see the future?"

"no."

"that blows."

you shift around, it's driving you crazy. you had to walk away, otherwise you'd wonder over there or keep asking peter to listen in.

"i can't do this- give me a kiss, i'm finding my friends." you raise your chin and pucker, peter supplies a quick kiss. "tell you what, because i love you so much," you gasp, stars in your eyes at his confession. you'd never get annoyed at it, it's not often he says it first.

"i'll come grab you when they split up, just so you can bombard ethan."

"you're the best boyfriend ever."

"damn right i am, i'm making you eat your words, problem child.'

you squint at him and pucker again to silently ask for a kiss, "you're lucky you're cute."

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

an hour later and your groan into your boyfriend's shoulder, "this is torture. how are they still talking?"

"it's a good thing. i'll admit it, i hated it at first, but i've never seen ethan so invested in a girl before."

you may have a shot, "one more time?"

"no."

"but-"

"nope."

"you agr-"

"not happening. no way are you getting twice in one night."

"peter."

"no."

"peter."

"no."

"peter!"

"fuck, fine! jesus christ, give me a minute." you watch him close his eyes, slow deep breaths raised his chest. you poke his bicep gently, "peter-" he was gentle, "shhh."

you press your mouth into his shirt and breathe hot air into him, a minute later and he's shaking you off.

"i'll have you know, this is a very weird feeling. my senses are... different around you, and when you're around it's very distracting."

your head tilts, "really?"

he nods, "it's weird, but everything's going good over there. be happy!"

"weird how?"

"you take priority. when you're around and i try to focus on something else, you stay at the front of my mind. when you were calling my name earlier it tripped me the fuck up."

you hum, "i know why." peter's interested, "oh, really?" you nod, "yes, it's very simple. it's because you love me."

"you know what?" you shy away from his cheek kisses, "i think you are very right."

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

ethan spent the whole night with taylor, at some point they wondered from the kitchen to around the house. around the second hour you lost them entirely.

you shrugged it off and spent the rest of the night getting a little further than buzzed. finding peter in a swarm of friends, desperate for more than a hug.

"hi, trouble." peter tucks you under his arm, his thumb stroking your shoulder sent you wild. "hello," you nuzzle in closer, wrapping your arms around his middle.

you wait for a break in conversation, patiently nodding along and squeezing peter when he says something funny. when two brothers start to lightly bicker, you lean up, softly calling his name.

"hm?"

you motion for him to come closer, you hide your lips behind a cupped hand while you whispered.

"will you please come take care of me in the bedroom?"

peter's turn to whisper, "five minutes, meet you up there." before, you'd be a bit more sly, now that he's your boyfriend, you're proud of it. scrambling away to run up the stairs.

you take a moment to take your pants off, then bounce on the bed, because peter always lectured you when you did it around him. taking an extra minute to snoop around, not that there was a reason, and not that you couldn't do it with peter in the room. it just felt more sneaky.

you spread across your front and reached for his bedside table, nothing interesting on top. the drawer slid out, you peer at the contents and hum, condoms, lube, a couple 'dirty' poloroids he took of you. a few books, nothing you'd read, they seem more like textbooks than something fun to pass the time.

ripping a condom off the strip, you hold it up in the light and turn it. you invision the process of putting one on, you've never actually seen peter do it, one second he has it in his hand, the next,the wrappers on the ground and he's ready.

peter catches you in action, his eyebrows raised. "paranoid i'm poking holes?" you roll to your back and sit up, "do you think i could put this on you?"

"you wanna?"

"i've never done it before, is it hard?"

"i think the first couple times i used 'em i kinda fumbled. but hey, you got the expert guiding you."

you gasp, a smile takes over your face. "really, you'll let me?" your boyfriend let's out a soft laugh, "i don't see why not." peter walks to you and plucks the foil from your fingers, tossing it to the table. "hey! you said i could-"

"you can. but i need you to come on my tongue first, can you do that?"

you nod, wide eyed and sparkly, "yes, yes, i can do that."

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

still naked and blinking at your boyfriend you poke at his nose, "would it be weird if it waited for ethan in his room?"

peter's eyes stayed closed. "extremely."

"but i'm so curious! do you think they're gonna hook up tonight?"

he yawns, "no." you test him by scooching closer, not fully cuddling, but an arm thrown over his hips. "is that like, intuition?"peter tugs you to lay on his chest, you melt into him.

a hand drags up and down your back, "sure is, my best friend intuition." you groan, "we're going in there first thing in the morning and getting the details."

"we?"

"shut up, i know you're just as desperate for information as me."

"... fine, but i'm only going as your moral support."

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

ethan was not home when you woke up and your disappointment was visible.

"my day has been ruined."

"trouble, no it hasn't. give the man a second, you're like a kid on christmas."

"i'm gonna go nuts and it's gonna be your problem, what then?"

"it usually is, so same thing i always do?"

"ugh! this super sucks, i know i should've walked in there. it's eating me alive, like, i'm the one that set this up and i get left in the dust? does ethan think it's his relationship? cause, it's our relationship. without me he'd still be alone."

"damn, trouble, tell me how you really feel."

you jump. peter's pointing with a spatula behind you.

"good fuckin luck, buddy."

the star of the show was home, you cheer and attack him with a hug. ethan supplies gentle pats to your lower back. "where were you, did you go home with taylor, how did you like her, was i right, is there something there, did you kiss her?"

"oh my god, parker, come get your girl."

"oh no, i just pawned her off."

ethan wheezes when you squeeze him, "c'mon, tell me, tell me!" peter calls for you, "trouble, stop bouncing on my friend." you step away, "sorry."

"okay, okay, ready?"

it's everything you've been hoping for, you jump to the counter peter's closest to and swing your feet. ethan has your full attention, "so, went up to her, we were chatting, had a good talk, and got her number."

"and then?"

"we went out for breakfast this morning."

you turn to look for peter's reaction, he's already looking at yours. you nod ethan along, waiting for him to add more.

"and then?"

"uh, that's all."

peter leans over the island to fist bump him, "nice, man. happy for you."

you look at their faces, they seem done with it. no more talk, you're missing the entire story. you panic and shout out, "and then?"

"i told you everything!"

you huff, "no the fuck you didn't, you left out the giant details of everything else." ethan shrugs, "not really. she's cool, we got some breakfast. oh, she gave me her toast. and uh... parker, you saw her, right?"

"i did."

"she's nice looking, right?"

"she is."

ethan gestures to your boyfriend with his chin, "see? all caught up."

you were losing your mind, "really, that's all? nothing on what you talked about, or how you feel about her, no mention of a second date?"

"yeah, yeah, second date happening for sure. i dunno, trouble, guys aren't really like that. but, uh, good pick?"

you spun to peter, pointing in his face, "ha! i knew it, i knew it, i knew it! i told you they would be good together!"

"oh i never doubted you, i just didn't want this,' gesturing to your body, 'happening."

you look back to ethan, "when's the double date?"

peter and ethan respond at the same time, "not anytime soon."

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

bonus::

'hey, peter. did you know ethan and taylor have been together since their first date?'

'i did.'

'four months in and they're saying i love you.'

'they are.'

'and why couldn't that be us?'

'oh, i will not entertain this conversation again.'

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

bonus bonus:::

'you're cuter,'

'no, no, you're cuter.'

'well, you're the cutest!'

'no way, you're cuter than cute.'

'you're so cute you-'

you gag, 'peter, please make them stop.'

'oh no, trouble. this is what you wanted.'

#peter parker x reader #peter parker blurb #tasm!peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #frat!ethan #my writing

[hey-august]

Miles above, it’s so serene

A/N: This didn't win in the poll, but I just couldn't let the idea go! (See the smuttier fic here.)

Word count: ~1.4k Warnings: Pretty much SFW, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, partaking in the devil's lettuce 🍃, buggy is smitten, talks of sex but it doesn't happen, bit o fluff at the end

Title from "High as a Kite" by Weezer

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Cheers, shouts, and laughter from the pub spilled into the night street every time the door opened. A soft breeze carried the chatter and echoing footsteps, picking up the smoke from your group on the way. The edge of the glowing pool of light from the pub was the perfect spot to stand in a circle and bullshit about nothing. 

A lighter clicked, creating a red cherry that flared as one person inhaled. The roll passed to the next hand and the ember burned bright, before making its way to your hand. You took a shallow drag, pulling in just enough to maintain your comfortable buzz, before continuing the chain.

Raunchy jokes, lonely laments, agitated frustrations, and casual gossip bounced around the circle. Lobbies and spikes were unpredictable. New topics and responses overlapped to create a tightly bound weave between the crew. When one pirate beckoned a newcomer to join the pod, the rest of the group shuffled aside to make room. The empty space was filled by your captain. 

While extremely common for Buggy to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his mates, he was usually found in the pub draining bottle after bottle. Periodically, in certain crowds, he could be found with a cigarette dangling from his lips. It was rare, nearly fable, for him to choose to bond in a hazy cloud. And yet, there he was, standing next to you and effortlessly sliding into conversations like he had been here the whole time.

Soon it was time for your next hit. The roll sat between your fingers as you finished sharing a heated thought about the recent meals. It was a complaint that nearly everyone onboard had said at some point, yet you felt an odd strain emanating from your side. From your captain.

“...it’s whatever, really. Doesn’t actually matter, I guess.” 

You wrapped up the venting with a non-committal comment, hoping it might ease the subtle tension that only you seemed to sense. Maybe it was all in your head, so you set to work filling the space with smoke. You exhaled slowly and held out the roll for Buggy to take next, half expecting him to pass.

You were surprised when he nearly snatched his turn from your hand and took a hard drag, the unseen pressure finally relaxing. Watching the smoke drift from Buggy’s painted mouth as he spoke, you found a way to wheedle your way into his conversation. There was something intriguing and novel about seeing your captain like this, and you needed an excuse to stare.

It quickly became clear that this was not an activity Buggy participated in frequently. His comments became looser and his booming laughter had him bumping against you more frequently. Buggy’s personality was infectious. When one of his hands clasped your shoulder as he doubled over in laughter, it brought out your own fit of joy.

A new roll began its trip around the group. Still comfortable with your buzz, you took another shallow inhale. Buggy, on the other hand, pulled the ember ever closer and refilled his lungs with more unfiltered air than they were used to. Focused on himself, the captain missed the glances and suppressed smiles that flitted around the group.

You accepted the non-verbal remarks when your turn came around again. This time, you passed.

“Actually, I think I’m gonna head back. Captain, wanna walk back with me?”

“Heh, afraid of the dark?” he teased. “Sure, who better to protect you than the guy who ate the chop-chop fruit. No one will screw with us.”

You smiled, pleased that the plan worked. The warmth of the achievement flickered briefly when you realized that the roll hadn’t passed both of you yet. There was a possibility he’d take another hit, which is what you were hoping to avoid. The pirate standing on Buggy’s other side caught your eye and reached over to remove the obstacle. With the roll continuing it’s journey, you and Buggy left the group to start your own.

The walk to the ship was illuminated by the full moon. The ocean was calm, just barely rolling over the small stones on the shore. A soft wind followed you both, whispering through the palm trees and sea grass. With each step, you both continued talking and laughing. 

Buggy’s comments started drifting more frequently. He’d end with trailing thoughts, repeat himself, and launch into conversations that started in his head. It was endearing. You were more than content to follow along, watching to see how high he’d float.

“Y’know, I wish we weren’t walking back together,” Buggy drawled, clearly saying the thought as it appeared in his head.

You stayed silent, waiting to see if he’d elaborate. Did he not want to head back yet? Or did he want to walk with someone else?

“Not tonight, you know? I wouldn’t be able to consent to anything. I want to, but I can’t.”

Despite his continued babbling, you still couldn’t follow the thread he was dangling in front of you.

“What do you mean?”

Buggy turned to face you, leaving his feet to continue walking forwards to the ship.

“If we were to do something back on the ship,” he said, with a tinge of annoyance that he had to explain something that was only obvious to him. “Something,” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

You bit back a laugh and nodded along.

“You and me, having sex together. Something. But I couldn’t consent like this.” Buggy emphasized his point by spreading his arms wide. “I wish I could, though. With you. I like you.”

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows. This was not how you expected the walk back to go. You rubbed your face, massaging your cheeks which would not relax or let go of the ecstatic smile hidden under your hand.

Buggy continued to prattle on, sharing all the things he likes about you. Observations that you didn’t think he noticed. Compliments that fill your stomach with butterflies. You captured your captain’s attention long ago and his list was long. From your fiery temper to your soothing smile, the way your hair caught the sunlight, how you smelled like the ocean, the scratch in your voice when you sang sea shanties, the shape of your hands, and so much more.

The monologue wrapped with another repeated lament about his inability to safely agree to sex. Buggy’s shoulders drooped and he hung over in remorse as he reconnected with his feet and turned away from you. He was adorably pathetic. Truly a clown.

“I like you too, captain. I promise not to take advantage of you, though.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

The rest of the walk was uneventful after that moment. If anything, it was as if the confessions didn’t happen. Buggy grew quieter and retreated into himself as you two boarded the ship. You knew that he was losing his hold and becoming untethered. It can be scary to feel like you’d float away, so you continued to fill the silence as you guided the captain back to his quarters. 

“Fuck, why is the ship swaying so much?” Buggy whined, flopping into his unmade bed.

You talked through the laughter that threatened to slip out. “It isn’t. The sea is calm, remember?”

Buggy groaned dramatically and pressed his palms against his eyes. “Everything keeps moving when I close my eyes.”

“Keep one leg off the bed.” You slapped one of his boot-clad feet, prompting him to let it fall to the ground with a thud. “Does that help?”

“I dunno. Maybe?” Buggy stayed silent for a moment, breathing deeply. “It helps a little.”

You were only going to hang around until Buggy fell asleep. With how quickly the smoke consumed him, it shouldn’t take long. However, the night had other plans.

You found yourself waking up in the captain’s bed, with the sounds of your own sleepy breathing fading from your head. Moonlight seeped into the room, but not as much as when you were last awake. Both of you were still wearing the clothes from earlier and laying on top of his sheets. 

In your hand was Buggy’s own, fingers entwined. Flattered heartbeats returned to your chest, nearly aching with how hard they started. As the content feeling flooded through your body, you gave a tentative squeeze. This was real. This was all real. While part of you was eager to know what tomorrow would bring, you also wanted to stay like this for as long as possible.

A moment later, you felt the comforting hold on your hand squeeze back.

#buggy fluff #buggy x reader #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy

[prettyboypistol]

Mercs first time receiving head?

Male or gender neutral Reader preferred

TF2 Mercs First Time Getting Head || x M!Reader +18

minors dni

Pyro is ambiguous genitals

Scout

In disbelief really, since none of his previous partners were interested in BJs

As soon as you got on your knees and offered, his heart nearly lurched out of his throat.

Def internalizes it as "well you're a guy, so it's gotta be different"

Probably wouldn't reciprocate that's some gay shit right there and Jeremy is NOT gay. especially when another man is sucking him off!

Loves how tight and wet it is

ABSOLUTELY fucks your throat when he gets too into it

Demoman

You two have to leave to the field in ten minutes, but you're both horny

You offer to give Tav head since there's no time for fucking and he enthusiastically agrees

He's very tentative about letting you know that there's no pressure for you to do this often

His favorite part is feeling your moans on his dick

A bit shy when it comes to deepthroating because he "I don't wanna fuck up my boy's throat if he needs to shout for a heal"

Would try to reciprocate at a later date, but he's honestly not that good 3/10 but an A for effort

Pyro

Pyro is very nervous about you giving them oral

Just like the usual fucking with them, no skin is showing except what the open zipper to the flame retardant suit allowed. Even then, their heavy shirt and pants withheld everything that wasn't necessary for sex

You like how vocal they are and how their hands run through your hair

They orgasm HARD. So much cum. As they ride the high, you keep going, only making Pyro sob in pleasure

They offer to let you fuck them as a thank you, even then they beg to at LEAST give you a handjob

God, there's so much Pyro loves about oral, but the intimacy is amazing for them

Engineer

He's a bit frumpy about the idea of "degrading" you like that

UGH he's such a southern gentleman you wanna rail him even more

"Listen hon, I know that it shouldn't feel as intimate as sex but- but your face down there? I dunno."

You assure him that it isn't degrading to you and that you're more than enthusiastic to give him head

He's down to give it a shot, but in the end after 2 minutes you can tell he's just not into it and he profusely apologizes

You spend the rest of the night cuddling your man bc 1. babe it's ok to not like oral and 2. honeyyyy i wasn't objectifieddd

Heavy

Damn. Like, DAMN. He's fucking HUGE

As soon as you see his dick when you two are going to sleep together, you wanna get it in your mouth as a bit of foreplay

You're a size king, but your jaw hurts not even 3 minutes into working down his shaft.

Heavy gives praise as you tirelessly try to take him

"Good job, most can barely take it during sex!"

He's very patient and calm as you suck and swallow around the head and the shaft. no matter what you did you couldn't get him balls deep.

Reciprocation is 5/10, also inexperienced but since your dick is half his size he doesn't have as much trouble

Soldier

Surprisingly one of the most happy to get head

Loves the idea of you sucking him off when he's busy

cockwarming kink 100%%%

He nearly jizzes on the spot with how warm your throat is

Reciprocation game is surprisingly good 6/10

Not mouthy per se, but very grunty/groany when you get him close to orgasm. Def will get noisy if you edge him.

Jane wants to cum on your face but he ain't gonna ask

Medic

God he LOVES the idea of blowjobs, like that's his usual jerk off material

He has an oral fixation, he always liked watching you drink from straws or licking things like icepops

As soon as you offer his eyes light up and he grabs your face to kiss you over and over again

He's so jittery in happiness as you unzip his pants, def doesn't last long

Reciprocation game is great but the overenthusiasm docks points 7/10

Loved the feeling of your tongue, the way it feels makes him white out in pleasure.

Sniper

Sees blowjobs as "Sex but when there's not enough time"

His danger kink just BEGS for you to blow him while he's camping out for an assassination.

Road. Head. Please. Mundy loves the idea of road head.

He's casually bisexual, so he doesn't mind giving head to you as well. Definitely has given head before and knows his way around a cock. 8/10 (-2 bc it feels impersonal)

Mundy's favorite thing about you giving head is how you look up at him. If he's driving then every red light makes him blush bc yes. he's looking. yes, he WILL blush if you make eye contact.

Will remember it for an absurdly long time and WILL bring it up like 5 months later

Spy

you know damn well you're not his first.

He likes the power of you on his knees and ready to please him.

He loves running his hands into your hair and guiding you to how to blow him properly.

Spy will reciprocate and is a 10/10 for practiced grace. However, he threatens to castrate you if you dirty up his mask.

Dirty talks in french if you really go above his expectations

not too noisy or mouthy, but get him riled up enough and he'll mutter french to himself

#tf2 scout #teamfortress2 #team fortress #teasing #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #tf2 demoman #tf2 pyro #tf2 fanart #tf2 engineer #tf2 #tf2 heavy #tf2 sniper #tf2 headcanons #tf2 mercs #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #tf2 x mreader #tf2 x male reader #engineer x reader #spy x reader #pyro x reader #scout x reader #demoman x reader #soldier x reader #heavy x reader #medic x reader #sniper x reader #prettyboy pistol

[maple-the-awesome]

You Sacrifice Yourself for Them || Part 3/3

Part 1 || Part 2

Pairings: Twilight, Wild, & Wind x GN Reader

Requested by anonymous: HIIIII OMG I JUST WANRED TO SAY i lovelovrloveloveeeee the way you write so much!!!!!!! ur recent loz post had me kicking and squealing in my sear hehehe T_T could i request a scenario with the chain in a situation where the reader sacrifices themselves to protect the boys? im imagining things begging the enemy to take them instead, protecting them from a hit or even something funny like taking the blame for a mistake they made!!! id love to see some angst from you!!!!! THANK U AND HAVE A GREAT WEEK!!!!!💖💖💖💖

Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

There had been a time when Twilight hated dungeons for how often they popped up during his adventures. Between the brain teasers and terribly inconvenient designs (seriously who needs so many rooms or levels?), he would groan aloud every time someone warned him about a problem coming from deep within some 'sacred temple' or caves near their home, however after months of walking until his feet are sore and countless encounters with monster hordes, you could say Twilight has officially had a change of heart. Sliding a few boxes around for an extra heart piece really doesn't sound that bad compared to chasing a shadow across several realms, now does it?

With that said, he had been a bit relieved when a group of locals brought it to his attention that some strange smoke had been rising up from a nearby mountain, practically begging the group of visiting heroes to check it out. He wasn't the only one willingly to agree, in fact most of the boys seemed eager to help aside from Time who was hesitant to derail their quest as well as Wild and Warrior who just couldn't understand what all this fuss about dungeons is about. In the end, it was decided that half of the group would go for the locals' sake while the others would stay to investigate leads about portals. At the time, this seemed to be a great trade and Twilight had even been looking forward to being able to do something different, but as his luck continues to prove, it turns out he has none whatsoever in terms of joy...

What even happened? He doesn't quite understand. He was joking with Wind and Hyrule about something long after everyone had split into two groups to make exploring the dungeon go faster. They were nearly complete with their half, having successfully fought a miniboss which was no trouble at all, in fact that's what had them in such high spirits at the moment. They entered the next room while placing bets regarding how 'difficult' the main boss would be when a shout met their ears. Seconds later, Twilight heard a 'BOOM' while being shoved backwards by a heavy force. Given that sound and the vague smell of smoke in the air, he would've assumed he had been hit by the blast of a bomb which probably wouldn't have been so far from the truth if not for you.

It takes a good minute for Twilight's poor mind to catch up, realizing much to his horror what had actually happened as you fell stiffly against his chest, your entire backside scoured. The floor tile behind you both - the same one he was about to step on before you shoved him out of the way - is gone, only a smoldering pile of broken shards left in its wake. Now why it exploded, Twilight doesn't know nor does he care. His main concern is you, sitting up in a snap and grabbing your shoulders with worry. At least there's some relief in you blinking open your eyes to look at him, but the way you groan and flinch at the movement makes him sick with guilt.

"What was that?!" Wild asks the same question that's hidden deep in Twilight's mind.

"The gold floor tiles explode," You explain, the pain clear in your grumbled voice as you attempt to push yourself away from Twilight, although he doesn't allow it, instead carefully shifting you to sit on his lap as he hisses as the sight of how the flames had burned right through you tunic, leaving behind a nasty open wound that no doubt continues to burn.

"Why did you do that?!" He asks the questions on the front of his mind, accepting the potion Four quickly hands to him for you. A part of him wants to be angry given how calm they can all be given your injury, although any other day he'd be rational enough to understand panicking won't help the situation. Regardless of logic, this is you. You're hurt and you got this way protecting him. It should be the other way around if anything!

"Don't be such a hypocrite. You would've done the same for any of us," It's as if you can read his mind as he carefully pours the liquid over your burns, causing you to hiss quietly, but other than that, you're actually handling the pain pretty well, "Besides, it would've been a lot worse had you stepped on it directly. All that fur you wear looks pretty flammable to me. You would've gone up in flames instead of a small burn."

Twilight tries to keep his eyes down at his work as a stubborn sign that he knows you're right, not that he could ever admit such a thing aloud, "...Still...A shouted warning could've done."

"No it wouldn't. Your foot was already lowering -"

"- You two can argue about this later," Four interjects while offering you a hand to get up, "That potion is only a temporary solution. We should get you back to the inn so that Hyrule can heal you completely."

You're about to begrudgingly agree, knowing full well how difficult it'll be to walk on your own even though you were pretty excited to finish this dungeon. Before you can take Four's hand, however, you're lifted into the air, held bridal style in Twilight's arm (which poses no challenge for him to accomplish).

"I'll carry you back."

"You don't have to -"

"- You took a hit for me. It's the least I can do," His voice is as stern as his mind, making it clear that this is the only compromise you'll be presented with less you want to keep the argument up all night. Thus, you merely pout and look away with a huffed 'fine', "I'm sure the three of you will be fine finishing the dungeon by yourselves?"

"Pff, with our eyes closed," Legend crosses his arms, offended anyone would think otherwise. Four and Wind nod quickly, their eyes still reflecting sympathy for your sake even though they know you've seen worse.

With that, Twilight turns, heading towards the exit of the dungeon with you (more comfortably that you'll say) in his arms and Hyrule at his feet. As upset as he appears on the outside, Twilight can't help feeling some sort of shameful pride at the thought that you'd be so fond of him as to willingly risk injury, so he makes an unspoken promise to himself to spoil you for at least until the evidence of your burns fade. It's the least he could do (and the best excuse he'll find for staying at your side nonstop).

Perhaps it's because he's never had many opportunities to do anything like this before the Calamity or maybe it's because he got so accustomed to it after those dark days. The origin doesn't change the fact that Wild tends to find more comfort in nature than ever before. The splashing of stream water down a waterfall. The singing of birds or creaking of crickets depending on the hour. The gentle breeze through his hair as his only company...It's become a habit of his to find spots like this during tough moments, especially those when he feels himself slipping the most...moments like what occurred today...

If he wasn't so upset and angry inside, he'd feel sort of guilty for running off the way he had back there. It wasn't anyone else’s fault that he's out of his element lately, resulting in more screwups on the battlefield. It's not their fault that he messed up during the last fight, too, breaking his sword against a darknut's armor, leaving himself defenseless (he didn't think it would be that strong!). Most importantly of all, it wasn't their fault that his ignorance resulted in you, for whatever reason, feeling as if it was your responsibility to save him with complete disregard for the risk. 

Wild keeps replaying the moment in his mind - you fighting viciously against the darknut until it was reduced to a puff of purple smoke, but not without receiving several cuts and scrapes yourself. He's not sure what hurts more: seeing you injured for his sake or the anger that flashed in your eyes when you looked back at him. You're not happy with him. Nobody was considering the number of times they've warned him about not rushing in battle head first, however your disappointment carried a strong burn that challenged even the Old Man's. If anything, Wild strives to see your joy and hear your praise, not be the source of your dismay. 

He can't help but wonder what would have happened if you weren't so prepared at that moment. What if you had gotten a more serious injury? What if you had died all because of him? Could he stomach losing another person he loves like that? How can he call himself a hero when he's constantly failing those he should be protecting the most? He can't. He's a failure...

"Link?"

He pretends not to hear your voice, although it's a poor act given the way he flinches. Sighing, you take his turned head and stiffened shoulders as an invite to walk closer, finding a seat beside him in the grass. You don't say much at first, simply taking in the beautiful scenery and counting the fireflies fluttering around you.

"...I'm sorry I yelled at you either. I lost my temper, but I shouldn't have."

"You had every right to," Wild mumbles, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face against them so that he doesn't have to look at you, too afraid he'll break down if he does, "I put everyone in danger by being impatient. I put you in danger."

You shrug, looking down as you run your hand against the grass, "...You really do have to be more careful, I'll stand by that. You gotta assess situations especially against monsters you've never seen before...but with that said, no one can expect you to be perfect. This situation is different for all of us. Really, aside from the Captain, most of us have never even worked in groups before, so it'll take getting used to. Just try to keep in mind that you're not alone, so don't act like it."

Wild lifts his head only to put his chin upon his knee, still stubbornly glaring into the distance instead of responding to your words, although he's forced to smile a little when you nuzzle your face against his while whining his name for attention. 

"I heard you."

"Then show it. It took me forever to think-up that heartfelt speech. Do you know how difficult public speaking is?"

"It's only the two of us."

"And like, thirty fireflies!" You gesture to the bugs in question, happy to hear Wild's chuckle and even happier to wrap your arm around his without any sort of fight, "...I mean it, Link. It's okay to lean against the rest of us sometimes. I'd be devastated if something irreversible ever happened to you."

He blushes, his words whispered as he leans his head against yours and closes his eyes, "...I'd be, too, if anything happened to you."

This can't be happening again. How is this even Wind's luck? He thought he made himself perfectly clear from the beginning that just because he's the youngest in the group does not mean everyone has to keep trying to protect him as if he’s made of glass! He's a hero of courage, too! He did his part, traveling across the great sea, fighting through numerous difficult dungeons, and defeating Ganondorf all by himself - Well, the King of Red Lions and Zelda helped some, too, but the point still stands! He didn't need Wild to take a hit for him that one time nor did he need you to do practically the same exact thing now!

It's worse this time than it was with Wild which only makes Wind angrier (and guiltier). Unlike the Champion who bounced back onto his feet after a few minutes, you weren't so lucky. No matter how much Wind shook your body or cried your name with his tears dripping across your bloodied face, you just wouldn't wake up. He couldn't even lift you to carry you to safety. Time has already tried explaining to him that his panicked state likely waived his strength, but Wind refuses to accept that excuse. 

He must've done something during that fight to make you think he couldn't handle himself. You got hurt - really hurt trying to protect him and he couldn't even protect you afterwards. It was Warrior who picked you up and ran out of the battle. It was Hyrule and Legend who worked together to heal your wounds with potions and magic. What did Wind do in the meantime? He cried like a child.

He did his best to hide it, wandering to the back of the group while desperately trying to use his sleeves to clear away the tears. He couldn't help it, as much as he wanted to believe otherwise. For those long ten minutes of you not moving regardless of everyone's efforts, he was left thinking he had killed you. He's a hero who's supposed to save people, but instead he ended up getting one of the nicest and more selfless individuals he's ever known killed!

At long last, you began to stir, further awoken by the chorus of relieved sighs that followed. You complained of a nasty headache and immediately tried sitting up which Legend wouldn't allow; you're okay - you're alive despite how it may have looked seconds ago, but that doesn't make Wind feel much better. 

Even from where he stands so far away, he can see the smudged blood staining your forehead and that dazed look in your eyes while Wild just laughs, welcoming you to the club of needless head injuries. You, of course, brush everyone else off, your eyes skillfully finding Wind despite how he tries to hide from view.

You croak his name, yet he turns his back to you with crossed arms, doing his best not to start crying again, "I thought I told you all to stop risking yourselves for my sake. I can handle myself!”

"You would've been hurt yourself," You comment with a frown, making Wind's anger flare.

"I'm not a child, though!"

"I didn't say you are one. I would've jumped in front of you even if you were as old as the rest of us. Trust me, Wind. The only thing on my mind at that moment wasn't anything related to your age, it was simply the worry that you were about to be ambushed. I didn't want to see you hurt any more than I'd want to see any of you boys get hurt."

Wild chews on his bottom lip, blinking back the tears as he at last stomps over to join the rest of you, pouting stubbornly yet his voice is genuine as he mumbles, “...I’m just happy you’re alive.”

You give a droopy smile and a thumbs up, although the action is rather shaky, “As good as ever!”

“No, you clearly are not,” Twilight deadpans.

“Lay back down already, you have a concussion!”

"Legend, lower your voice."

#lu twilight x reader #lu wild x reader #lu wind x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda #link x reader #x reader

[akingdomscrypt]

War is Over (and what have we done?)

Part Four

Pairing; Graves x m!reader (slow burn)

WC; 2.9k

Summary; Graves is tired of being ignored.

Warnings; not really any? Not yet at least. Minor flashback stuff where it's implied he's trapped in the tank when it caught fire, mentions of death/pondering

A/n; probably my shortest chapter yet. I spilt what was originally one part into two because it just felt??? Off?? To put them together as one thing?? Idk but I felt like it called for more than just a few paragraph breaks

(also thanks to @/rousseau-vargas and @/embry-garrick who are my biggest motivators rn, next half of part will be out soon)

(idk how to explain it, but I love how his mouth moves..)

---"more than he bargained for"---

Phillip was bored out of his goddamn mind and a prisoner in his own fucking base. Which, to be fair, he had definitely anticipated would happen when he came back.

He had known he’d fucked up; he knew you would be angry. It had been a long time, Phil had been gone for nearly an entire year. Him suddenly appearing again after being presumed dead? That was sure to stir up some unsavory feelings; he had expected a bit of rage, some lashing out here and there.

He, for some unknown reason, hadn't predicted this.

You, trapping him in his own goddamn base.

Phil doesn't know how long he's been stuck within these same four walls—thankfully he'd been detained in one of the spare rooms, one with a small bathroom, and not where the temporary prisoners were usually kept—, but he does know that, especially if he stays here any longer, he's about to lose his damn mind.

He thought he knew you. Figured you'd eventually calm down—like you always did—and come back to collect him. Maybe chew him out a bit more, which would be well deserved, but then let him go. Reconcile. That's what usually happened when you two had a minor scuffle.

But this wasn't just a small mishap, some little blip on the timeline because Phil had gone a bit too far once again. Been a bit too snappy; had said the wrong thing. Was it?

With every day that passed, every second that dragged on, Phil was starting to believe he didn't know you as well as he had thought he did.

It's hot. It's so fucking hot. Phillip should have known better than to actually be in the damn tank when all this started, you, his dear co-founder, had warned him against it. But what was Phil to do? He'd rather face this heat a thousand times over, relive it again and again as much as it took, than have one of his own soldiers trapped in this chunk of metal.

Did he really think he would win? Well.. maybe. Phil had his doubts before this, you had your doubts, but he had insisted. And now he was going to pay for it stuck in this gradually melting, scalding hot box.

Another few raps of his knuckles on the wall, and still no answer.

Phil was really starting to get annoyed at this point. He was more than tired of being ignored, which only manifested in an uptick of his provocative behavior.

The hallway is on the other side and you, his dear Phantom, wouldn't leave him unguarded, would you?

Definitely not. So, again, he follows his obnoxious knocking with a shout of, “V! For Christ’s sake, I know you're out there!”

And he did, who better to have stand guard outside his door than your most trusted soldier?

He may not know you like he used to, and you may never admit it, but Phil could pride himself in the fact that you were at least a little predictable. And you had always been fond of their dearest Venn.

But, as had been the norm of how ever fucking long Phil had been trapped in here, there is no reply.

Phil had warned them. He had tried his damnedest to get those damn 141 boys to stand down, his orders hadn't been against them. Not originally. Not until they, as per usual, stuck their fucking noses into shit they don't belong in.

Was this what hell was like? Was this him paying for the horrid massacre he had commanded?

Phil could have gone against orders. He could've told Shepard where to shove it and be on his merry way—with his family Shadows alive. No one had to die. No one but Hassan and his goons had to meet their end.

But, goddammit, so many had. So many innocent lives were wasted.

Phil had been doing this shit for years, doing the dirty work no one else would, the kind the average military couldn't.

That didn't make it any easier.

He often put on a front; he had to. For his family's soldiers sakes’. If he was afraid, if he shied away from the blood and the gore, the screams and the terror, then he wouldn't be the strong, unmovable rock his soldiers relied on. Now would he?

He should have said no. Or maybe made some sort of compromise. But he hadn't, and there was no point in ruminating over what had been done. He was going to die here—it is what he deserved—, stuck and helpless.

Just like the innocent people whose lives he had stolen.

He knew you were just being stubborn. You would come around eventually- right?

Phil had never doubted you before. Having started this damn company together, just two wayward souls searching for something to call their own, tired of being tied down with yards upon yards or red tape—oh, the irony of that sentiment. You two had never been free.

Even when he pushed you away. When he left you the morning after—every damn time—to wake in his bed alone and cold. Not a trace of the warmth from the night before left behind.

Even when he refused to admit what you truly meant to him.

Phil had always assured himself that it didn't matter, he could say and do whatever he pleased, because you would always come crawling back to him. And you always had. No matter what.

Until right now.

Until you didn't.

“V! Goddammit, open the door!”

It was so fucking hot. He could barely move, mind fuzzy and breaths coming out in short, labored gasps.

What little movements Phil could make were sluggish and weak. The latch didn't work, and subsequently that meant the door didn't either. He was well and truly stuck.

Phil thought he was starting to make peace with that. Dying. It had been a long time coming, hadn't it?

After all the bloodshed. After all the things he had done in his life—all the blood and gore, the purposeful ignorance and choice to look the other way. To pretend not to care.

He deserved this, right? He was getting what had been coming for him. Finally.

It should have come sooner. He had lived plenty; he had done enough harm in his time.

Phil's tactic at this point was simply to be as obnoxious as he could possibly be, and annoy Venn into inevitably opening that damn door.

And after a few more harsh pounds of his fist against the wall, and several more calls of her name, Phil gets his wish.

In the form of a frustrated shout and the door slamming against the wall so hard it's a surprise the poor thing stays on its hinges, but he gets his way nonetheless.

“What.” Venn spits when she finally gets inside, arms crossed over her chest and one boot tapping furiously against the floor.

“That's no way to speak to your Commander, V.” Phil sing-songs, all upbeat and shit, against his own better judgment.

Ah, yes. Let's piss off the one direct line you have to Phantom more than you already have.

That's sure to get him his way.

“You're not-” Venn cuts herself off, sighing heavily and starting over. “What do you want, sir?”

She says the word with none of the respect she used to and, honestly, that was fair.

“Better.” Phil still hums. Because he's an asshole. And because he can't seem to stop himself, apparently, the snark seems to be hardwired into his brain or some shit.

“What. Do. You. Want.”

“You know what I want, V.” She makes a face at the nickname, and Phil pretends not to feel that little twinge in his chest. It's not like he doesn't deserve it. They used to be close. All of them.

“Not going to happen.” Venn snaps immediately. Defensive. Predictably.

“You know I'm not going to stop asking.”

“And you know it's never going to happen.”

“Fucking hell, V, why not?” Because he doesn't deserve the right of seeing you. Because he already fucked this up before it had the chance to be great.

“Because he doesn't want to see you.”

She's told him that before, several times over, to be honest, but Phil still can't hide the slight grimace that pulls at his features when Venn says it again. Says it with so much confidence, so much conviction, like it's an obvious fact everyone else has been made aware of and he's just been too stupid to pick up on it.

Phil has already been made well aware plenty of times. He just didn't want to believe it.

But what about you?

Would you be okay without him? Would the others? Phil knows you have never been the most.. well put together. But after you two got out of that wretched regimen, when you two banded together and created this little pretend family, things had been better.

Phil had been able to get you to open up more. To get you to behave more as yourself, and not like the shell of a man who he’d met when you two were still green.

You talked to him more. Got a bit better at talking with your fellow Shadows. Let him touch without flinching first, let him get to know the person beneath the aloof exterior.

Even though he had given nothing in return.

Would you make it out if this? And if you did, would you forgive him?

When you dug up those pieces of metal from the wreckage, those little markers of his identity, no doubt having melted to be nearly incomprehensible, would you bury them with his singed corpse? Or would you keep them safe? Tucked into a pocket of your vest, above your heart?

Would you tell his grave the stories of your future when the ashes settled? Would you bring flowers, or would you spat over the very earth he rested beneath?

Would you leave the stone unmarked, or with those few precious words you two had agreed upon all those years ago?

When he was gone, would you mourn? Would you miss the warmth of him above and beside yourself? Those whispered confessions spoken under that blanket, amidst the cover of night, would you forget them?

Would you forget him too?

“And he told you this?”

Venn goes silent then. One thing about her; though her moral compass was just as fucked as the rest of theirs, though her hands were bathed in the same amount of blood, Venn was a pretty shit liar.

“He doesn't even know you're in here, does he?”

More silence.

“Oh, you poor thing. First lying and now going against your Lieutenant's direct orders? What has become of you, V?”

“I don't need him to say it to know it's true!” Venn huffs, sending Phil a scathing glare.

“So you're making assumptions now? Dearest, Venn, you know what they say about people who assume..”

“The same way you assume he'll want to see you?”

Phil opens his mouth to protest, say something, but he draws blanks. What if she's right? What if you really didn't want to see him? Hell, did he even cross your mind anymore? Did you even remember you'd put him here?

Phil clamps his mouth shut and there's an audible clack of his teeth snapping together.

He hasn't seen you since that fateful day when, like the absolute dumbass he is, he had sent you storming out. Taunting and prodding, as Phil usually did, but you truly had been acting differently that day.

Or maybe it wasn't just that day. Maybe you had really changed, and Phil didn't know that man beneath the shell anymore.

He should've seen it more clearly when you walked in dressed head to toe, even that pretty face of yours masked. You didn't like shit like that. Always used to complain to Phil how much you hated them, being so covered up, made you feel claustrophobic or whatever.

But these days you wear it like a second skin.

“I deserve to see him.”

You had always been so calm, and he would often compare you to the soothing waves of the ocean washing over the cool sand of a beach after midnight.

But even calm waters can turn deadly in the blink of an eye.

“Deserve? You think, after what you did, you deserve anything?” Venn isn't masked, so the disbelieving look she gives him is quite obvious. Paired with a humorless, and honestly a little off-putting, laugh. “You don't deserve shit, Graves. And you definitely don't have the right to seeing him, not when-”

She cuts herself off then, and, if Phil had been thinking clearly, he would've asked for clarification. For her to continue because maybe, maybe he wasn't the only one privy to see that you weren't the same man you used to be.

But he doesn't look deeper, doesn't dip below the surface of that pretty ocean blue.

He never does.

“You can't keep him from me forever-”

“I'm not keeping anything! He hasn't even come down this way all week-”

“But he has come down here-?”

“Yeah- but not for you-”

“Just get his ass over here, V-”

“No! Why are you so stubborn? He doesn't want you!”

Ouch. But he's heard worse. From you—to be completely fair, Phil had usually said his own scathing handful of words beforehand. “You don't know that!”

“I understand you two started this shit together, so you assume you've got some weird, cryptic claim over him-”

“-that's not what this is about-”

“But he is his own person, Phillip! You two may have been friends before, but things have changed. You don't own him-”

“It's not like that-!”

“Oh, really? It's not like that?” She's up close and personal now, face to face, mere centimeters away. Huh, Phil never noticed the few inches she had on him. “How is it not? All you talk about is how you deserve to see him-”

“I do!”

“That's not a good enough reason! You can't just say “I do” and expect me to drag him down here. He's a very busy man!”

“You don't understand, V-”

“Then tell me! Help me understand what could possibly earn you the right to deserve seeing the man!”

“Because I fucking love him!” He shouts. “and I deserve to see my fucking boyfriend, for Christ's sake!”

Phil doesn't realize the words that had accidentally tumbled out of his mouth until Venn is pulling back, brown eyes widened in shock.

Oh. Oh shit. Ohhhhh shit.

You were going to kill him.

Seriously this time. Phil was a dead man.

“You-” she stutters. “Him- what. I- huh??”

“Shit- V-” Phil rushes closer, hands fidgety and hovering awkwardly around Venn as if wanting to grasp hold of her shoulders. He backs off and opts to pace the same nine foot strip of carpet instead, hands fisting into his hair. Tugging a bit here and there until he manages to settle enough to cross his arms instead.

Still pacing, pulse jumping.

“You can't tell him I let it slip, alright?”

One dark eyebrow raised, she asks, “Why not?” and rightfully so. Phil probably looked like he was losing his damn mind right now.

“Because-” because he had never said it before. Had never had the courage to admit it. To name what he had with you. What he wanted with you.

Because despite that so clearly being what you wanted from him, written so openly on your face when you looked at him. The most obvious you ever had been, about anything—and it was him who caused that.

Still, he had never put a label to it.

“Because he doesn't need to know.”

“Bullshit.” Venn scoffs, curiosity now flipped back to protective anger.

“It's not that big of a deal-”

“If it weren't, you wouldn't be acting like this. Would you?”

Ah. She had him there.

“Listen, Venn,” he says, voice low, tired. “You don't know Phantom like I do. This won't blow over well if you tell him.”

“I think I know him plenty well...” She says, more so like that of a stubborn child.

“If I get him-” Venn starts, hesitating. For a moment Phil thinks she's going to give him some big speech about not doing anything, blah blah blah, or she'll send him to an early grave or whatever. She exhales deeply through her nose, shutting her eyes briefly before looking at Phil again.

He doesn't think he's ever seen her look so damn exhausted. Suddenly seeming much more like the grown woman she is, and not the rambunctious teen they usually tease her for behaving like—all in good fun, of course.

“Just..” she trails again, as if weighing her options on whether to tell him or not. “Be.. gentle.. with him. He's not–not the man you used to know. He's.. changed.”

He had figured that much, but Phil surprises even himself when he utters an, almost soft, “okay.”

Venn gives him the barest hint of a smile before dropping the expression entirely, a far away look in those dark brown hues.

After a moment of silence, she turns to walk away. Appearing unable to even gather the energy to speak a goodbye, the door shutting inaudibly behind her; Phil can't even blame her for that one. Seems he wasn't the only one to pick up on your odd behavior, and he had only spoken to you once since his return.

He wonders what you had been all this time with no one to report to, under zero supervision—then he considers that he may not want the answer.

__

Masterpost | One | Two | Three | Next

__

@cptg00s3 @ruthgrimxiao @20nerd04-blog @gloma08 @mikahrh @in-down @hauntedapplefarm @mello-life69 @unkn0wnd3ad @tayaisback @starre-eyes @gabbvr-dog @suhmie @lazyrel @spiritsofthedead @yeonpm @its-ares @k1ssesofdeath @ravagerdogz @embry-garrick

If you want to be added to the tag list, or removed, let me know in the comments!

#call of duty #cod x male reader #male reader #call of duty x male reader #call of duty x reader #reader insert #gay #phillip graves x male reader #graves x male reader #phillip graves

[sombrashe]

i love ur blog!! it would be super cool if u did a norm x reader but the reader is like a wastelander/from the wastelands or something like that!!

content fluff, first kiss :3, both reader and norm are weird little things he's just more sexually inclined, gn!reader, chubby!reader

note(s) thank you so much for the kind words ;-; i hope you enjoy this !!

It's been three weeks since you joined the rag-tag group. Two vault dwellers, a ghoul, an ex-BOS member, and a wasterlander. Sounds like the beginning to one of The Ghoul's bad jokes. He calls them dad jokes but since over half of you didn't have a dad the idea was lost to the sand. Plopping down you go through your nearly empty pack.

"I think me and The Ghoul should go on a supply run."

Your voice rose to speak over the horrid wind pelting small clouds of sand into the side of the burnt-out husk of a house. Everyone looks you over and immediately starts speaking over each other to argue about the dangers of leaving into the storm. Raising a hand you let out a short shout to gain attention which works wonders.

"I've lived in this desert all my life I know how to keep sand away from my skin, I'll be fine. The Ghoul is pretty much unkillable. We need food. My pack is empty."

You try to sound reasonable. It's been days of your group being holed up in this shithole and honestly, you wanted out of there even for a little. As close as you have grown to each member of the group you barely have any time to yourself anymore.

"What if you get lost?"

"It's a small neighborhood, I'll be fine. I promise."

"You can't promise that and you know it."

Norm's voice chastises you despite his face hiding his true concern. You knew he just wanted what was best for you. Him being the one person you opened up to the most. His easygoing attitude and similar resting face made it nice to tell him about any worries. And you had a lot especially living on the surface. Something he was slowly becoming accustomed to.

"Why not take one of us instead?"

Lucy speaks up. Her eyes search your face, hoping you'll change your mind.

"The only one I would be willing to take is Max, but he's out of commission."

You point to his leg which sits propped on a toppled bookshelf. Trying to save Lucy from a radscorpion cost him a rolled ankle.

"The Ghoul is no-nonsense, he'll get us in and out, and if he doesn't... I'm sure youse guys can win a 4 v 1."

You give a wide smile showing them that you mean what you say. You just wanted to get this over with. You've been thinking about this for hours now. Watching as your already small assortment of supplies dwindled.

"Please, just let us go."

"Don't I get a say in this sweetheart?"

"No. You want 'ta find their dad as much as the rest of us. Not me, I'm here for all the warm company."

You roll your eyes and sling your pack over your shoulder. Norm stands just as quick nearly shoving you over in the process. You steady yourself against his bicep. Only for a second before you yank your hand back as a warm heat burns your cheeks. You walk around the room collecting anything you might need. An extra pair of pants wrap around your face. Nice and snug according to Lucy. Making eye contact with Norm you feel the need to look away. His eyes are so expressive and they're begging you to stay. You go to give him an awkward hug hoping to make the feeling in your stomach go away. He doesn't bite and gently untangles the fabric from around your jaw. Your goggles skew your peripheral but you know everyone is staring. You can't hear the mumbling as he leans forward. You can't even hear the wind whipping broken glass into the side of your hideout. You struggle to hear anything over the roaring of blood rushing to flood your head. Especially when his lips connect with yours. You lived a hard life and went through unimaginable pain, but this kiss, even for a moment, made you forget everything and everyone. His lips were so soft a stark contrast to the sharp broken skin of your own. Your hands lay limp at your side as you attempt to kiss back. This was all quite foreign to you but you wanted to make it work. Needed to make it work. Deep down.

"Come back to us. To me, please." He whispers directly against your lips.

Reaching up he ignores Lucy's inquisitive eyes as he gathers the untangled mess of denim. Slowly he affixes it back together and into a tight shield against the elements. He gives your cheek one quick squeeze through the thick layer. You thank the cover because you couldn't stand letting everyone see your grin even if Norm picked up on your eyes crinkling. Turning around you opt to look at the floor as you walk over to the strong oak door. Luckily the wood stayed mostly strong for these past 200-odd years with only a corner piece missing. Flinging the door open you call back to The Ghoul to hurry up as you disappear into the screaming darkness.

#fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #norm maclean #norm maclean x reader #sombrashe writes

[sugar-omi]

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS DAY N ITS FINALLY HERE WOOOO!!! i'm so insane abt this idea that you can prbly expect more of it...

DAY EIGHT — NEIGHBORS-WITH-BENEFITS

*kinktober masterlist | *ao3

tags : NSFW, gn + bottom reader, between step 3-4?, outdoor/beach sex, multiple choice dialogue, use of toys, bonus funny bit at the end <333

synopsis : you and cove don't get along like your parents hoped. at least.. not as friends.

you and cove can be around each other when hanging out with your friends or family, and exchange the occasional neighborly wave. but other than that, you can't stand each other.

but somehow you end up like this, time and time again.

with both of you exchanging horny gazes from across the room, suggestive or obscene gestures (sucking that popsicle so lewdly rewarded you, well cove actually, the best throat fucking of your life.)

or sneaking out to the others room because one of you sent a text to open the window or a nude...

and before you can think twice, cove is pushing you up against the nearest surface and kissing you breathless…

even though you can't stand how selfish he is half the time, and how he doesn't think things through and says and does whatever he wants… well you must not hate it that much since you've nearly ripped his shirt in half trying to get him naked.

or like that time you begrudgingly went with him to his mom's house to pick up his things, and fucked him in the car behind the gas station.

yeah, you definitely don't like him. you just.. like him sometimes. although sometimes, seems to be more like most of the time.. all the time…

but that's tomorrow y/n's problem. right now you're trying to keep your composure in front of all these people.

cove comes up behind you, pretending to grab some snacks from the table. but in actuality, he's whispering in your ear, his hand hot on your hip.

"follow me in 5 minutes…"

you tense, feeling a rush of adrenaline run through you. you nod, trying not to spill your drink.

then he disappears, fading into the crowd.

fuck, this man has ruined you.

that was the longest 5 minutes of your life, and you almost missed cove disappearing behind the lifeguard shed.

finally breaking free from your sister and cousin trying to keep you on the dance floor, you rush up the beach and try to find cove.

it's a bit hard since it's so dark out here, and you have to stop yourself from shouting when someone yanks you into a dark corner.

"shh, it's just me.." cove whispers.

you go to scold him for scaring you, but he pushes you up against the side of the building, his hips grinding into yours.

your head spins, you can feel his bulge through his shorts and his lips slot with yours, his tongue taking control of your mouth.

resigning that you can't tell him off, you bite his tongue, making him hiss and pull away.

"ow- what was that f-" cove's compliant is interrupted by your lips on his neck, your hands moving from his shoulders to grab his butt.

he groans, panting as you pull down his collar to leave more marks. "shit… don't.. leave marks…" he gasps out, his hands trembling on your shoulders.

you pull off his neck, a nice red hickey blooming on his collarbone. "why? y'know you left marks on me last time."

you got the most embarrassing talk of your life when your mom's saw the hickey under your jaw. keeping the secret of who left it didn't help either…

cove gasps, his breath shaking. "i-i told you i was sorry…"

you roll your eyes, tugging his tank top off. you don't know why he was wearing it anyway, you're at a beach party and cove never covers up, no matter how cold he is.

"shut up and fuck me before someone comes looking for us."

cove doesn't say anything, tugging down your shorts and underwear.

"fuck.. you actually wore it." cove says in disbelief, his fingers brushing against the vibrator inside you that he asked you to wear so he could control it, since you barred sex after the hickey scandal.

"well duh, didn't you get my text?" you ask, referring to the photo you sent him.

cove flushes, thinking. ".. i didn't charge my phone."

you roll your eyes, "you're so spacey. stop gaping, you asked for it so take it out and fuck me, holden."

cove grits his teeth, your eyes zeroing in on the veins in his hand and forearm.

he's too sexy for his own good…

cove's lips are on you before you can come back to reality, the kiss is messy and wet, your moans muffled by his eager lips.

begrudgingly, he breaks up the kiss and flips you around, falling to his knees and spreading your cheeks to get a full view of your hole, pulling out the vibe.

he can't help himself from leaning forward and licking at your hole, unable to resist how it clenched around nothing.

"ahh.." you breath out, pushing your ass back on cove's face.

fuck, as much as you'd love him to eat you out / rim you, you don't have time.

"hu-ohhh fuck.." his tongue dips into your hole, trying to scoop out your insides with his tongue. "hurry.. up!" you bark.

cove detaches himself from your sex, taking a condom from his pants pocket and hurrying to unbutton his shorts and rolling it over his dick.

he hisses, biting his lip.

he tried to get off by himself since you still sent him the occasional nude or dirty text. he even looked back at some of his favorite photos of you… but it's just not the same now that he's had you under him.

cove lines himself with your entrance, sinking easily into your wet insides.

you slap a hand over your mouth, muffins the loud moan about to burst from your throat.

cove's cock hits the deepest spot inside you, the vein on the underside of his dick pulsing and rubbing against a tender spot inside you.

your eyes roll back, and you close them, panting I to your hand.

even though you tried to get off by yourself. it wasn't the same as cove's dick. your fingers just didn't feel the same and the couple of toys you had hidden in your room aren't the same as his dick or when he controls your vibe…

cove's head rests between your shoulder blades, panting as he tries to wait for you to adjust.

you're so tight and warm around him, and he can't tell if it's because you haven't done it in awhile or because he missed this.

you lick your lips, swallowing. "move… c'mon.."

cove laughs breathily, strained if anything. "you're desperate…"

you bark at him, "you're the one who put it in in one thrust!"

cove doesn't say anything, holding your hips and removing his sweaty forehead from your back to watch his dick pull out your clingy hole, enjoying the way your hole wraps around him so nicely, almost not wanting to let go.

"yeah yeah…" he says dismissively, ignoring anymore bickering you're trying to start.

"hey, are you listeni-nnng!" your question turns into a moan. cove's tip slamming right against your g-spot.

cove huffs through his nose. the sound of skin against skin is too loud, someone would definitely try and find what's making that sound..

he wraps his arms around your waist, his lips against your shoulder, planting light kisses and nips but not leaving marks.

you gasp, sucking in air.

cove's thrust are more like a dog humping your leg, and as much as you want to make fun of him for being a horny bastard, you can't deny that you love how deep he is, and how he's never too far away.

"whaa- what are you…" you can't even finish the words out. his tip grinding against your willing insides and his hand coming around to stroke your dick / clit has you breathless.

"someone will hear.. just shhh." cove shushes you, tilting your head to face him, capturing your moans in a kiss, pushing them down with his tongue.

you feel irritated by the pressure building in your stomach. damn cove and damn him for making you be able to finish so quickly from doing half of nothing.

"are you..?" cove mutters, not straying too far from your lips.

you hum, trying to nod.

"me too…" and it's your turn to laugh. cove glares at you, a playful grin on his face and narrowed eyes. "what's so funny, huh?"

you press your lips together to stop from moaning, cove's hips grinding into yours. "cause- you're.. you're such a minute man…"

cove pulls you against his chest, your nails scraping down the side of the building. "me? i'm bot the one who came just from putting it in."

you bristle, "that's! that's because you were, ahh-"

cove mocks you, fake stuttering and he has a wicked smirk on his stupid face. "what? i finger blasted you and ate you out so good you came just from the tip? it was that good, huh."

you're so irritated by that damn smile on his face and his smug voice, but you can't deny it.

your parents went on a day trip and with your sister off at college, and cove's dad at the shop… it was too perfect to not have cove over.

and yeah, maybe you think about that day a lot but what does he know?

you go to bite back, you don't even know what you could say since he already exposed and roasted you with one comment.

but that dies on your tongue before the words can even come to you, cove's pace on your sex picking up, wanting you to finish first.

"that's it… just cum for me." cove groans, babbling a bit since you're not listening, one of your hands holding his scared forearm for support, your fingers and hole quivering as you near your end.

you hiss out his name, your legs shaking and if it wasn't for cove holding you up, you would fall into the sand.

cove groans, finishing soon after you, his fingers holding onto your waist tightly.

you both enjoy the afterglow for a bit before cove removes himself from your sweaty body, carefully pulling himself out from your hole.

cove kindly helps you get dressed, pulling your bottoms up your quivering legs.

but not before stuffing your vibrator back inside you and giving your butt a couple nice smacks with his fingers.

you scold him but he just laughs, stealing a kiss before he starts to part. "want me to drive you home?"

your eyes switch between his lips and his eyes before you shake your head. "gotta get back to liz an-"

"there you are!"

you both startle, whipping around to see your cousin running towards you, her and liz locked arm and arm. derek trails behind them, chatting animatedly with terri.

they're giggling, a bit tipsy. well, maybe more than a bit…

"what're you doing here?" lee asks in a sing-song voice, almost knowing. but you roll your eyes, she's more drunk than anything.

"nothing. cove was just wondering if i needed help pulling you off that poor guy you were latched onto earlier." you smirk, joking with your cousin.

"hey! jokes on you, i got his number!" lee announces triumphantly.

terri throws her arm around you and cove, startling you both again. "hey! let's stop and get burgers- liz's treat!"

"hey, why do i have to pay?"

terri laughs, dragging you and cove to the car with her hands locked with yours and cove's, swinging together. "cause you're the oldest, duh!"

cove goes to the kitchen, rubbing his hair with a towel.

he mindlessly floats about the kitchen, snagging a bit of everything his dad made.

he's humming happily, pouring a nice glass of juice in his favorite glass and turns with his winnings in hand.

"mm- oh!" cove startles, almost dropping his plate.

his dad was standing behind him, a stern look on his face and arms tightly folded. cove doesn't miss his fingers flexing and gripping his bicep.

"uh.. dad?"

"cove. what are those marks on your back." it's not a question, per say.. he knows what they are. he's just seeing if cove knows.

he swallows, cursing his carelessness that costed you get revenge.

"um.. dad, wait. i- i can explain?" cove shrugs, his lip curling up awkwardly. there is no explaining this away…

before either of them can say something, cove's phone beeps from its place on the counter, finally charged up.

both of them look at the phone and cove gulps, instinctively looking at his dad for his reaction…

Y/N: yesterday 6:37pm *see attachment* find me beforehand for the remote 💋

Y/N: today 1:49am *see attachment* i guess you can have your privileges back. cya soon holden;)

oh yeah.. you're both fucked.

#sugar-omi kinktober #sugar omi kinktober #kinktober #olba #our life: beginnings & always #cove holden #cove holden x reader #smut #cove holden smut #cove x mc #cove x reader #cove holden x mc smut #cove holden x reader smut #our life smut

[redbird-tf]

Never leaving

Jason todd x (platonic) reader

Summary: Jason finds out you've gone missing following the escape of Joker. He won't allow the Joker to inflict on you what he suffered. Jason won't stop at anything to bring you home.

Word count: 950

Warning: angst

Jason was furious. he had just found out the Joker escaped Arkham again, but surprisingly that wasn't the main reason for his rage. You had gone missing three days ago. the whole bat family had been looking for you but not a single one had bothered to bring it up to Jason, typical. He had quite the altercation with Batman due to the fact.

“Why didn't you tell me!” He yelled throwing his fist in the bat’s direction. “It’s not like youre around much Jason” Bruce stated grabbing his wrist, Jason pulled back “This is different. You know me and y/n are closer,” he said through gritted teeth. “And jokers back, with her missing, and it's been a week. A goddamn week!” Jason screamed “We are doing our best Jason, i know what you-“Bruce was cut off “And you know if anyone can find him, it's me!” He pounded on his chest “And you'd be out of control!” Bruce shouted “And the last time you decided to do things your way with the Joker, i died. I won't let you do that to y/n. She doesn't deserve that”Jason put on his helmet and sped out of the batcave on his motorcycle

Jason wasn't very close with any of the bat's adopted family but you were different. You met Jason on a mission months after being taken in by Bruce. After that day you asked who he was and his story, and instead of being disappointed you understood. Apart of you agreed with the way he did things but the other half didn't want to disappoint Batman, he understood. You started spending your patrol nights with him and despite his hard-ass personality, you grew closer. You were the only one who treated him like true family. You were his little sister and he'd die all over again for you.

He didn't know what scared him more, you being dead or being alive with the Joker. Jason searched endlessly and picked up a pattern the Joker had left behind. He was holding you at a warehouse, originally clearly. Jason pinned the location and drove as fast as he could. When he arrived he kicked down the door storming into the dark room “You're going to ruin all the fun!” That to happy voice called. “Step out joker!” He yelled pulling out his gun. “Boo hoo, I've nearly gotten to teach her any manners” The joker stepped in front of Jason. Jason wasted no time knocking him on his ass. “Where is she?!” Jason demanded. “Now why would i tell you that? Don't worry I'll return her like new… like you” The Joker started to laugh. A loud bang was heard with silence following. Jason had killed the bastard with no regret.

Jason searched the warehouse calling your name, worry grew with every passing second until he reached the back where he found a locket door. He docked the door off its hinges and entered the room. “Y/n!” He screamed seeing your body weakly curled in the corner covered in blue and red. “Jason..” your voice rasp “Don't speak,” he said placing his jacket over your body as most of your suit had been ripped off. “It's my fault, i went after him alone” you began to cry “None of this is your fault! Now please be quiet and let me help you,” he said grabbing your shoulders. He bandaged what he could and hoisted you on his back, piggyback as he began to walk out.

“Shit” he mumbled seeing the batmobile in the distance. It stopped in front of him and Batman wasted no time making his way in front of Jason “You're late” Jason stated in a monotone voice. “What happened?” Batman asked “Same thing that happened last time, but i stopped it” Jason replied. “You killed him?” He asked “Don't worry, killing him the last 2 times didn't last long” Jason said with annoyance. “Y/ns coming home with me,” Bruce said holding out his arms. “I don't think so,” Jason said making his way to his bike “She needs medical Jason!” Batman yelled “I've learned,” Jason said throwing a mean glare. Jason sat the both of you on his bike wrapping your arms around his waist. “Y/n?” Batman questioned in a stern tone. “Jason..” you said weakly turning away from Bruce. Jason saw the hurt on his face “Call if you need anything” he said to Jason before turning back “Sure”

You groaned regaining consciousness, when you tried sitting up two hands softly pushed you back down onto the pillow “Stay down” a voice called. You slowly open your eyes seeing Jason stitch up your leg. He finished and softly placed down your leg “you might feel a little groggy from the anesthesia” he explained “Where are we?” You asked “My safe house, your safe here.” He said pulling the blanket over you. “Jason, he told me what he did to you…” Jason sighed tucking in the covers “Don't worry about me” he replied standing up. “I'll leave you to get some rest” he turned around but was quickly stopped by your hand wrapping around his wrist.

“I don’t wanna be alone” you whined “I'll just be across the hall” he explained removing your hand “Please Jason, don't leave me now” Your voice cracked and your eyes displayed a fear he knew all too well. He sat at the side of the bed. “I'll be here when you wake up,” he said whipping away your tears, you gave a weak smile before allowing yourself to drift to sleep. Jason gently took your hand into his, caressing his thumb over your knuckles, “i won't ever leave you”

#jason todd #jason todd x oc #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason todd x batsis #batsiblings #batsis #batfam x batsis #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x oc #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #platonic #jason todd platonic #red hood fanfiction #jason todd soft #jason todd fanfiction

[ticklishraspberries]

OOOH OKAY

how abouttttt 67 with percabeth??? maybe lee percy? (but you decide okok❤️)

drabble prompts!! // thank you for the request!! xo 67. "Wow. Never thought I'd witness this."

Annabeth apparently made it her mission to embarrass Percy the moment he'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood; even while caring for him in those first few days, the Minotaur's injuries leaving him weak and groggy, she had still had the wit to comment on the fact that he drooled in his sleep, sending his face aflame.

Now, they're friends. They've gone on a whole quest together, defeated monsters and faced the gods and he's seen her embarrass herself quite a few times, like her terrified shrieks when she saw those spiders. But even then, she had composed herself quite gracefully, explained her fear with logic and reason, and moved on.

Percy's embarrassment used to feel white-hot, like when he couldn't answer a question correctly in class or when Gabe spit insults at him, the flush in his face felt burning, suffocating, and shame was usually replaced by anger.

Annabeth doesn't make him feel that way. Her little quips are always clever, usually harmless. Even her nickname for him, "seaweed brain" doesn't annoy him as much as he pretends it does. Annabeth, as well as his friends at Camp Half-Blood, don't make him feel like an outsider.

Percy has become flustered around Annabeth for a whole new reason, though, much to his horror. She had snuck up on him in her stupid Yankee's cap, invisible, and grabbed him from behind to scare him. However, his shout (which she described as a "squeal", which he vehemently denied) was less about fear and more due to the fact that she had grabbed his sides and squeezed.

"Are you ticklish, Seaweed Brain?" she had asked once the cap was off and she'd revealed herself, with that mischievous grin painted on her face.

Percy scoffed. "No," he said, unconvincingly.

And the rest was history.

He still won't admit that he's ticklish. It's ridiculous, because he so obviously is, but it's some weird pride thing that Percy can't shake. Now, every time she tickles him, she asks him again: "Are you ticklish?" and every time, no matter how hard he's laughing, Percy tells her no.

Annabeth has taken every chance she's gotten to tickle him, and he's been on edge ever since. Unfortunately, those demigod battle instincts didn't seem to protect him in the case of a one-sided tickle fight, and he didn't stand a chance trying to strategize against a daughter of Athena.

So, he jumps at every little sound and often keeps his arms wrapped around his middle just in case of an attack, which Grover finds incredibly amusing.

It's a sunny day at camp when Percy lets his guard down, too busy chatting with Grover by the water to remember his absolute pest of a friend and her shenanigans, when Annabeth creeps up behind him, not even bothering to turn herself invisible this time, and latches onto his ribs, and he nearly goes tumbling into the water.

Grover makes an indignant noise at being splashed, but Percy and Annabeth are too busy grappling to acknowledge him.

"Just admit it, and I'll leave you alone!" Annabeth says, giggling. Her fingers on his ribs are unbearably ticklish, and he can't believe how easily she's found his weak spots. Too smart, too methodical for her own damn good.

"Never!" Percy shouts, trying to grab her hands and failing miserably.

It continues like this for a moment, her trying to stick her hands into his armpits and him cackling like mad, but when she finally gets her fingers under his arms, Percy's laughter reaches a new octave, and before he can process what he's done, a small wave crashes over them both, as well as Grover who is still sitting nearby, and Annabeth crashes against his chest, spluttering.

"Oh, you jerk!" she cries, her hair sopping wet and dripping onto his face. For a moment, he worries that he's actually upset her, but she just begins tickling him with twice as much vigor.

"No, I'm sorry! Okay, okay, I'll admit it!"

Annabeth stops. "Wow. Never thought I'd witness this," she grins. "Go on then. Admit it."

She's still sitting on top of him, looking down at him with smug look on her face. Her hands are poised above his belly, like she'll strike again if he hesitates.

So, Percy swallows his pride. "I'm ticklish," he says, and instead of that white-hot humiliation, the embarrassment he feels is more akin to butterflies in his stomach. He briefly wonders if that's because of the confession, or the fact that she looks so pretty sitting on his legs, hair wet and smile beaming, but he quickly pushes that thought away.

Satisfied, Annabeth gets off of him and takes her seat beside Grover, talking to him about something completely unrelated, and as Percy watches her speak so passionately, he figures that being teased by her isn't so bad at all.

#itslittlegiggle #percabeth #pjo tickle #pjo tickling #pjo ticklefic #pjo tickle fic #percy jackson tickle #percy jackson ticklefic #raspberry drabbles #percy jackson #pjo #pjodrabbles