#AND THEN when I explained to him in plain terms

[imogenkol]

father dearest you picked the wrong fucking day to try and test my patience with your willful ignorance I will fucking end your entire bloodline 🥰

[cobbled-peach]

proposal(s)

aka: the four times Spencer thinks about proposing to you, and the one time he does

a/n: this is my first time writing/posting here pls be kind to me I just love him and I love books and I hope you love him and love books too !!!!! this hasn’t been edited much so apologies for sp mistakes cw: brief mention of sex, but nothing explicit. Fembau!reader. Lots of literature references (with books named at the end). I think this constitutes as fluff? Pre-prison Spencer, but no specific era. wc: 2.3k

darcy and elizabeth

The first time Spencer thinks about proposing to you, it’s the day you meet him.

The newest agent on the team. You’re emotionally intelligent in a way he can only dream of being.

You cradle a mug of coffee in your hands. His mug, which stuns Morgan into silence mid-sentence, his conversation with Garcia derailed by the sheer surprise of what he’s witnessing. Your mug had smashed thirty minutes earlier, an unfortunate casualty in the first-day desk unboxing. Spencer, seeing your disappointment, pulled a plain white mug from his top drawer, REID printed on the side.

He held it out tentatively. A peace offering. ‘Until you get a new one,’ he’d murmured, offering a small smile.

He’s always been wary of germs, but somehow didn’t care this time.

He watches your hands wrap around the mug. Soft, delicate, holding the item like its something precious. He wonders what it would be like to hold your hands himself. Then scolds the thought. Coworkers, Spencer.

You bring the cup up to your lips, humming in contentment after the first sip. Yor lipstick – or maybe lipgloss? He’s unsure of the correct term – leaves a gentle pink stain on the rim. He secretly hopes that it won’t wash off. He stares for a moment, and wonders, quite randomly, is this how Darcy felt when Elizabeth first touched his hand?

You set the mug down (Morgan still gaping in the background, like you’ve declared war on the Bureau’s hierarchy of personal property) and smile at him.

‘Thank you. Seriously. I desperately needed that caffeine.’

‘It’s not a problem. Did you know that caffeine sensitivity is actually inherited?’ A pause. To see if you’re listening. You are, and he suddenly wonders how appropriate it would be to stain his lips with your lipstick-lipgloss in a kiss. Not very, he concludes. ‘It’s all to do with polymorphisms in your enzymes. Its genetic; they tested it on twins.’

‘You sound well-versed in your coffee knowledge. A fellow connoisseur?’

‘I think the term “addict” is more fitting, actually. And I don’t know how much of my consumption is due to genetics over stress and lack of sleep.’

A laugh from you. He feels the sound in his chest and his stomach flips.

‘Good to know what’s in store for me,’ you tease.

‘Coffee addictions and sleepless nights,’ he replies. Then, hesitating. ‘Maybe I’ll let you use my high-quality espresso beans when it gets really bad.’

‘Literally marry me,’ you joke.

He almost says, I will.

He doesn’t, just stares at the mug like it holds the future.

2. the black cloud

The second time he thinks about proposing is your third-technically fourth date. (The first didn’t count, at least not to you. ‘You asked me to dinner to “celebrate closing the case,”’ you’d later said. ‘That’s not a date.’ He insisted that it was; he’d paid. You said so did JJ, once. Case closed.) They’re also technically not “dates” because dating within the team is prohibited, but Hotch showed some leniency.

Coffee in the park. A foolproof plan, not much room for error. He buys your drink, and you sip it beside him on the bench while he spews obscure facts about the tree you’re sitting under, intertwined with quotes from Ovid and Darwin. He offers to get you a refill as soon as you finish.

‘You haven’t even finished yours yet,’ you tell him.

‘I know. I can still get you a new one.’

‘Just drink your drink, Spencer.’ Accompanied by a fond smile.

You wander together. Conversation flows. He can’t quite explain why its so easy, why he feels so comfortable.

He’s puzzled by the anomaly, so he does what he does best: theorises. He’s been hypothesising for the past three-technically-four dates. Cross-referencing data points. He runs through the evidence, and draws the only viable conclusion:

Love.

Premature, maybe. But true.

You suggest dipping into a second-hand bookshop. He agrees eagerly, following you in like Orpheus descending. He’ll go anywhere, so long as he can find his way back to you. You disappear into your aisle; he into his. Mathematics, physics. The realm of science and fact. Only two minutes pass before you appear again, book clutched in your hand.

‘This is so you,’ you say.

It’s The Black Cloud. Fred Hoyle.

He blinks. Then again. Takes the book from your hand and turning it over like you’ve just handed him the world.

‘You’ve probably read it,’ you say. ‘But you’ve never mentioned it, and I know you like mid-century sci-fi.’

He has read it. Of course he has. But its not about the book. Its about you, thinking of him.

And you say it so casually. Like this isn’t the most intimate thing someone’s done for him.

‘You picked this out… for me?’

‘Yes.’

He turns it over again, shocked. He wants to hand you his heart, neatly wrapped in paper and ink.

‘Oh…’ he breathes out, the sound so quiet. He feels like he’s been winded, in the best way possible.

‘Not to your taste?’

‘No–’ he shakes his head. ‘No, its exactly to my taste. I think I have an older copy, but not this edition.’

‘Do you want it?’

‘Yes.’ The answer comes out before he even registers it. He does want the book. Not because he needs it, but because you picked it out for him.

You smile, gently take it back, and go to the register. He watches lamely, feels compelled to place a hand over his chest an steady his beating heart.

He thinks of Dante first catching sight of Beatrice. Of Gatsby staring across the bay. Of Gabriel and Bathsheba, paths destined to intertwine.

In the middle of the bookshop, he almost gets on one knee.

3. the hour of the star

The third time he thinks about proposing is directly after sex.

Not the first time, or the second. Somewhere in the quiet middle.

You’ve been officially together for six months. You transferred to a different department, and he asked the moment you were in your new office. (‘No interdepartmental fraternization,’ he’d quoted, followed by a nervous, ‘so, can you officially be my girlfriend now?’)

You’re both tangled beneath the sheets in your apartment, the place half his by default now. His toothbrush lives in the bathroom, his go-bag in the hallway, his own mug in your kitchen.

His copy of The Black Cloud lives on your bookshelf, annotated. He took it straight home, writing his thoughts in the margins, little notes to you. Fred Hoyle writes “There is a coherent plan to the universe” and beneath it, in Spencer’s barely legible font, is yes, and I think its you.

The book had been kept out of your sight for seven months, before he “sneakily” slipped it onto your shelf. “Sneakily,” because you watched every movement through the kitchen doorway. You’d read the whole thing that night, cried, and set to work annotating a book of your own for him.

The books are a love language themselves. If he could frame every annotated page on his wall, he would.

He’s reading aloud to you now.

It’s become a ritual. You, soft limbs and warm skin. Him, thumbing through whatever book is on the nightstand, voice a little hoarse. Sometimes it’s a play, sometimes poetry. Once, quantum physics (he didn’t take it personally when you instantly fell asleep to that).

Tonight, its Clarice Lispector. The Hour of the Star. Skin still flushed, he clears his throat and reads aloud, backed by your steady breaths. Each turn of a page is a pause in which he can press a kiss to your skin. Shoulder, cheek, temple. Wherever he can reach.

‘“Things were somehow so good that they were in danger of becoming very bad, because what is fully mature is very close to rotting.’” The sentence hangs in the air. Heavy. His voice stops, like he’s contemplating the words he’s just read.

You turn your head against his chest.

‘Everything okay?’

His quiet. Thinking, as always, a crease between his brows.

‘Mm.’ His arm shifts to wrap around your shoulders. ‘It’s just… interesting, isn’t it? How even the best things are fragile, maybe. Decaying.’

He doesn’t need to say “us” for you to catch what he’s referring to.

‘You think we’ll decay?’ you ask, propping yourself up on one elbow. He looks at your eyes, soft, unworried, and thinks again.

‘I think that… real things are vulnerable. We’re real. And I think that makes us susceptible.’ He hesitates, brushes some hair from your face absentmindedly. ‘Entropy. Everything tends towards disorder.’

‘Only if you don’t control it,’ you say. Factually incorrect, but he appreciates what you're saying.

And perhaps that’s it. Your unwavering faith. You’re a realist, not a romantic. Offering certainty in a world of disorder.

‘Decay isn’t death,’ you point out, continuing. ‘Its transformation, right? Compost to soil. Stars collapsing and becoming galaxies. Things can break and become something beautiful.’

His world shifts in that moment. He looks back at the line, reads it maybe 20 times in the span of five seconds.

‘We’re not going to rot, Spence.’

‘We’re not going to rot,’ he repeats. He knows it’s the truth as you press your lips to his chest, over his frantically beating heart. ‘Do you want me to keep going?’ he asks, lifting the book slightly.

‘Please.’

You adjust your position, curling into his side. He resumes his reading. He’s turning the page again when you mumble quietly.

‘We’re not going to rot, because I love you.’

Every syllable brands itself into his soul. He’s heard those three words before, but there’s something more to them in his context. He almost drops the book, catches I before it hits your head. He wants to tell you that you are his Eurydice, the person he’s always been trying to reach.

Instead, he says:

‘I love you, too.’

It falls easily. Inevitable, as always. No drama, no prelude. Just the truth, spoken to you many times before and many more to come.

He almost attaches a “marry me” to his words but instead kisses your hair and returns to the book. He’ll wait.

He already knows the ending will be worth it.

4. metamorphoses

The fourth time isn’t once. It’s every day.

You hand him coffee in the morning? Marry me.

You nurse him through a cold, unconcerned about coughing and sneezing, just wanting to be near to him? Here’s a ring fashioned out of Kleenex.

You coo over Henry in one of JJ’s photos? Let’s make one of our own. Just marry me first.

He asks Rossi for advice. (‘You’ve been married a lot, statistically speaking.’)

Garcia catches on quickly. Spencer Reid combined with search history is a concoction for whatever the opposite of “stealth” is. He looks at rings on his lunch break, tilting his computer screen like its classified information.

Pretty soon everyone knows. You remain oblivious – or pretend to be.

It’s simply a matter of when.

5. darcy and elizabeth

It’s a Tuesday. Raining.

Not a dramatic kind of rain. Unassuming. Soft and relentless, quietly soaking the world, a constant tap against the window of his apartment – now permanently shared with you.

He wonders if the rain is a piece of pathetic fallacy. A warning against his plans.

It’s four years to the day since he met you.

He had a plan. Of course he did. He was Spencer Reid. A riverside walk in the park. Take a picnic, surrounded by ducks. Bookmark a page in Much Ado About Nothing with the ring. But the weather has altered his plans, made him go off script.

But maybe that’s a good thing. Gentle touches and heartfelt gestures over big declarations, that’s what he’s always preferred. He just needs a moment.

You’re making coffee. Barefoot, hair damp from the rain that interrupted his plans. Wearing an old shirt of his effortlessly. A perfect picture of home. His home.

He stands in the doorway with a book in his hand. Pride and Prejudice. Not his favourite. Nowhere near his top ten. But it’s your favourite. You’ve worn it down with love, left your own story between the lines with annotations. And that makes it his favourite now, too.

His mismatched socks shift awkwardly on the floor.

‘Hi,’ he says, calling your attention.

You look up from the mugs with a pre-formed smile. Yours, a copy of the mug you’d smashed on your first day. His, the mug with your lipstick, now washed, but imprinted with you forever.

‘Hey,’ you respond. ‘Dry from the rain?’

He doesn’t respond. Crosses the kitchen and holds out the book. Why does it feel like a brick?

‘This is… mine?’ you say, unsure.

‘Yes,’ he confirms. ‘I added some annotations. For you.’

You open the cover. His handwriting – messy, familiar – sits below your own in black ink.

You know I am not very good with words. So, I thought I’d borrow someone else’s. Please turn to page 301.

He watches your breath hitch. Watches as you carefully flip the pages.

There’s a line. Circled not once, but many times over, holding the weight of what couldn’t be said with words.

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”

Beside it, tentative but certain at the same time, his writing: but if you ever choose to be bound to someone, I hope it’s me.

He’s already on one knee when you glance up. Ring held out in his hand. A quiet promise, forged from the pages of books you’ve shared and the one you’ve written yourself.

Your hands are cradling his face. He’s crying. And you’re crying.

‘I will always choose you.’ Quiet, definitive. A fact.

He slips the ring on and kisses you. Pride and Prejudice lays open in the background. Page 301. A circled sentence. A note in the margins. A love undoubted.

hi I’m super awkward but I hope you enjoyed yippee!! I thought I’d quickly mention all the books I referenced/have implied references to because I love them all and if you like literature you should read them teehee (in order because I’m super sweet) (also I know darcy doesn’t touch her hand in the books pls don’t come for me <33) Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen Metamorphosis, Ovid The Origin of Species, Charles Darwin The Black Cloud, Fred Hoyle The Divine Comedy, Dante The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald Far from the Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy The Hour of the Star, Clarice Lispector Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespeare Hamlet, Shakespeare

[pedgito]

ORBIT YOU ⋆⭒˚.⋆ CHAPTER TWO: SUN

↝ series masterlist | joel miller masterlist | full masterlist

summary — your relationship with joel only becomes more skewed over the course of your time back at college before summer break, spending most of the time communicating with him through a screen.

author's note — it's here! i don't have much to say other than if you read and enjoyed the first chapter, i'm glad you're back!!

content warning — 18+ MDNI, dbf!joel, virgin!reader, age gap (20s/40s), terms of endearment (kiddo, sweetheart), phone calls, old man!joel trying to figure out technology, video calls, mutual masturbation over facetime, dom!joel, edging, orgasm denial, teasing, some attention seeking behavior, handyman!joel, teasing the shit out of this man

word count — 8k

It took a month for you to cave and call Joel.

You had tried to put on a front, like…really tried.

But, something about him calmed you.

It started with texts.

Joel

Some idiot took a staple gun to his hand.

How’s the astro whatever going?

You

AstroPHYSICS.

Linear Algebra is kicking my ass.

Joel

Damn that sucks.

The wording of it is plain and obviously, monotone, but you know he means it.

He checks in on his own occasionally, not bothering to text back when he sees you’ve read it, only really needing a sign of life, but then boredom strikes and you call him one night.

But, you have a totally legit and valid reason.

There’s no greeting or pause, the moment you hear him pick up, the words spill out.

“So hypothetically, if someone was to…I don’t know, break a handle off from the inside, how fucked are they?” you ask, staring at the broken mechanism in your hand with your towel tucked tight around your body and still dripping wet from your shower.

You can hear a spoon clinking against ceramic on the other end, the beep of a machine in the background, “Depends, are they talkin’ to me right now?”

You glance at the time on your phone, nearing ten o’clock at night, “Are you drinking coffee this late?”

“Yup,” he answers easily, slurping for emphasis, “didja break your doorknob?”

“Yes,” you reply distantly, like you’ve placed your phone away from you.

You had, Joel realizes after a while, hearing some clambering and a curse on the other end.

“Joel, I’m fucking stuck and my roommate isn’t home. I’m going to die in this shitty bathroom and all I have on is a towel, oh god…I think I’m having a panic attack,” you begin to ramble, dropping the broken half of the doorknob in a panic as you reach for your phone and drop to the floor, sinking against the cool wall of the tub.

“Sweetheart, you could always hang up and call the fire department,” Joel offers, “I’m sure they deal with shit like this all the time.

“Joel, I’m practically naked—and it’s embarrassing.”

“Worse is you dyin’ and they find you in just a towel,” Joel offers lightly and you can’t help but laugh at his dry attempt at humoring you despite your worry, “listen, can you fit it back into the hole? Sometimes it’s just because of a loose screw, if you can get the mechanism to connect long enough to turn the lock back, you’ll be alright,”

“How do I do that?” you ask candidly, slowly reaching for the doorknob as you rise to your knees and move toward the door again, carefully placing your phone against the door and putting Joel on speakerphone, “do I just—”

There’s a long silence and Joel hears what he thinks is you working away at making your escape, but it is eventually followed by a yelp and Joel nearly jumps from his seat on his couch like it would do anything.

He’s shouting your name on the other end for a solid minute before you finally answer.

“Christ, kid,” he exclaims, “what’s goin’ on?”

“Oh, my roommate showed up—I’m fine now,” you explain, “door is still definitely broken, though. I’m sorry for botherin’ you, I was freaking out a little,”

“Hey, nothin’ wrong with that,” Joel comforts you, “you gonna be alright, kiddo?”

“Yeah, Joel,” you assure him, “uh—goodnight?”

Joel chuckles, slurping loudly at his coffee, “Goodnight.”

After a couple months, those calls turn into more.

You’re working through your term paper when Joel’s name flashes in the corner of your laptop screen.

It was a video call. 

That was strange.

You were barely dressed, a shirt hanging low enough beyond your waist that it covers the underwear and lack of shorts you had on, a blanket draped loosely over your shoulders.

You answered it anyway.

“She ain’t gonna answer, Tommy,” Joel speaks to his brother, presumably out of  frame, “kid’s after a hell of a major at college, she ain’t got time to chat with you like that,”

“Joel,” you interject amusedly, “Hi,”

“There she is!” Tommy has never lacked in warm greetings, his smile showing bright under his thick mustache, clamping his hands over his brother’s shoulders as he leans down and into frame, “Hey, sugar, how’ve you been?”

You subconsciously pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders and lean into frame, “I’m surviving—college sucks, ya know?”

“Uh, I don’t, but, I’ll take your word for it,” Tommy chuckles, “Joel’s over here braggin’ about you bein’ a genius, like we didn’t already know that.”

Joel rolls his eyes, chewing absentmindedly at the tip of his thumb to hide the flash of embarrassment that he had been bragging about you to his brother.

“S’nice seein’ you, kiddo,” Tommy says fondly, “You’ll have to come visit us in the summer, miss havin’ you around. It’s been too long,”

“I’ll try,” you half-promise, eyeing Joel with a creeping suspicion as his head tilts up to look at his brother as he waves at you, suddenly standing and disappearing from frame to walk Tommy out, at least, that was what you assumed.

When he returns, his fingers peek into frame first and his body follows, sinking into the dining room chair with a silent look of apology, “He’s been buggin’ to see ya,” Joel explains away.

“Uh huh,” you reply as you opened up another window on your laptop to begin typing in your notes from an earlier class, “surprised you know how to work that thing,”

“I don’t,” he admits, “Sarah had to walk me through it over the phone before I called you,”

“Old man can’t figure out technology,” you tease, “I’m shocked,”

Your hand presses against your chest with a sneaking smile before you continue to type swiftly, the clacking of the keyboard audible to Joel as he leans forward again, squinting, and you catch him in the corner of your screen, laughing softly.

“You need glasses,” Joel knows it, you know it—still, he waved you off.

“Alright, we’re done here,” he says abruptly, having heard a billion and one lectures about his eyesight, “goodnight, kiddo—m’sorry if I fucked up your studying,”

“All good,” you tell him honestly, “I’ll just go and die of boredom now.”

It was a slippery path to more, neither of you expecting it initially.

Joel was practiced in keeping you at a distance without completely losing you, despite what had transpired on the camping trip a couple months prior, almost like a fever dream when your mind slipped there now.

He’s fit you into his routine—Sarah, Ellie, then you. 

But, of course, you push it as far as he’ll let you.

You

Can I call you? I had a test to study for and I’m falling asleep.

Joel sends a thumbs up, which makes you huff out a weak laugh.

You’re in a similar attire to the last time he called, but the blanket was balled up at the end of your bed and your room was empty for the night—most students were out partying on a Friday night, but you were burying your head in study about Quantum Mechanics. 

Admittedly, Joel had saddled himself for his own source of entertainment for the night—or well, release. The ding of your message had startled him slightly, palm rubbing over his slowly swelling cock as he scrolled through his favorite site, mumbling out a faint “Shit,” as your name appeared and hastily deciding to respond, not much critical thinking on his end.

“You’re my accountability for the night,” you tell him immediately, your face pulling up on the screen of his laptop as he clicks on the green ANSWER button, “alright?”

“Hello to you too,” Joel responds, catching a glimpse of his knee where he’s planted it up on his recliner, his elbow resting into the arm of the chair as he looks at you, face turned down as you flipped through a hefty pile of notes.

“Sorry, hi,” you correct yourself, offering a shy smile that Joel knows wasn’t that shy, “usually my roommate has music blaring and it keeps me awake but it’s too quiet, were you busy?”

Joel clears his throat, his erection not flagging in the slightest—shamefully, it had only gotten worse as he glanced at your breasts that were spilling out of the thin tank top, your bare nipples poking through the fabric and leaving very little to imagination.

“I’ll be alright,” Joel decides on, reaching for the remote to turn on his television, settling into a comfortable silence with you, “what’re you studyin’ tonight?”

“Quantum Mechanics,” you reply simply and Joel’s eyebrows raises in question, not prepared for the spillage of information on that topic, you look up at the exact moment he makes a face and giggle, “I’ll save your ears, don’t worry—so…you were busy?”

“You’re doin’ a lot of talking for someone who should be workin’,” Joel reprimands and the way your body reacts isn’t a surprise at all—maybe this was a bad choice.

“Quiet as a mouse,” you promise, shaking out your drying pen as you scribble it on the paper but it does nothing, without thinking, you stand, snug underwear on full display.

These are brightly colored and nearly see-through, hugging tight at your hips as Joel stares, entranced, at the curve of your ass and how perfectly it sits in frame as you lean around your desk to reach for a new pen, not even realizing what you had done until after sitting back down.

His eyes are wide before he can fix his face, “I—sorry, I’m rarely dressed when I’m in my room. I didn’t even think—” Joel hates how quickly his cock rises to full attention, adjusting himself further down the frame, and he makes a dismissive noise as his face morphs into a scowl, his default setting.

It hadn’t been intentional, but you’ve begun to notice something about Joel.

You spotted it back at camp, the night at the picnic table, and even now. 

His gaze drifts, even without trying. He’s forcing himself to look at your face, the green light shining beside his camera, anywhere but the sight of your tits on his screen, but his self-control was severely lacking around you as of late.

And, you weren’t focusing that well, anyways. 

You fake it, scribbling down some mindless nonsense in place of what should be your notes before you fake your pen drying out again and Joel had started to scroll quietly through his phone when he sees the shift on screen, but instead of turning out of frame you’re standing dead center, leaning over to reach the back of your desk.

He can see a sliver of your stomach where your shirt has raised, thighs pressing into the edge of the desk, where your panties tuck against your inner thighs, the outline of your pussy staring him down through the fuzzy camera lens and Joel jerks so hard at the sight that his camera shakes, biting away the silent laughter that fills your chest as he curses under his breath.

“Sorry, shitty pens,” you excuse lamely, returning to your seat, “what’s keepin’ you busy?”

“Answerin’ emails,” he lies, “tryin’ to get the contract for this next job figured out,”

Because, no, he hadn’t been scrolling through a list of videos to find something to interest him, subconsciously searching for anything that reminded him of you or resembled you, frustrated with how prevalent you had been on his mind since the camping trip but too pathetic to admit it to himself. 

Avoidance was always the easier route.

“Riveting,” you smile kindly and survey him from across the screen, feigning a chill as you turn in your chair to spot the blanket on your bed, but Joel’s words come first.

“You’ve gotta stop gettin’ up, kiddo,” Joel pleads, face turned down but his eyes fixated on you.

You tilt your head and smile devilishly, but instead of getting up, you push your chair back to reach for the blanket—somehow, it was worse for Joel this way.

He watches you curled up in your chair, clearly enjoying that effect you had on him even from miles away, every inch of skin on display save for the few clothes you had on and it brings him back to the tent, flashes of your blissed out expression as you had listened to him so easily, bent yourself to fulfill his fucked up obsession with control over you in that moment.

The difference now is that you had the upper hand, knowing he’d never step out of place on his own, but with enough torture, Joel would inevitably break.

“He invited me out for drinks this weekend,” Joel says suddenly, desperate to distract himself, clicking his phone shut and shifting his gaze to his hands, still placed over his aching cock but unmoving, almost like punishment for viewing you this way.

You shrug the blanket around your shoulders and snap your textbook shut, trading it out for another place out of view, “You haven’t spoken to him since, have you?”

His non-answer is obvious, glazing sideways toward the front of his house in the exact direction of your childhood home and you shake your head with a dismissive smirk.

“You think he’ll take one look at you and know?” you inquire and Joel shifts back to you, eyes narrow slightly, and you add salt to the wound by mimicking him, “Sorry, I’m gonna have to skip out on drinks. I fucked around with your daughter and now I’m feelin’ guilty about it.”

“It ain’t guilt,” Joel argues.

“Isn’t it?” you challenge, “s’all well and good until you gotta face reality, right?”

You sigh deeply and snap the textbook shut, stack your papers neatly before you push them aside, “I interrupted you, didn’t I?” you ask him, glancing up at the picture frame placed behind Joel that showed the glare of the screen, the small rectangle that housed your face in the corner but the browser open and brandished with a popular adult site, slowly, you grin, “How do I compare?”

You’re being coy and it was fraying every nerve that Joel had left with you.

“See,” you begin, “the thing about technology like this—we’re miles away, but somehow it still feels like you’re right here with me,” Joel’s dick twitches at the sound of your voice, watching you lean back in your chair, the blanket falling from your shoulders, “but, it just isn’t enough.”

“We’re not doin’ this again,” Joel forces out, voice gruff and hard.

Still, his hand presses down against his cock to soothe the growing ache.

“Then hang up,” you say dismissively, pulling your straps down your shoulders, his eyes stuck like glue to the screen despite his words, “no?”

Joel shakes his head and you laugh softly at him, nodding in understanding.

“I wish I was there,” you tell him, voice softer, “wish you were here—” your fingers pull at the fabric of your top until your breasts spill out, hands cupping them together and squeezing, “and here,” your eye him, half-lidded, watching the subtle but visible movement of his hand as his laptop had readjusted purely by accident, working himself over with a rough squeeze through his pants.

Joel feels his throat swell, like he’s committing the ultimate sin. 

Seeing you like this is different, vulnerable, baring yourself before him without an ounce of hesitation—only for him, not out of defiance or an itch to prove a point.

You’re needy, wanting, and he can see it in the way your mouth parts with a sharp breath as your fingers drag slowly over your nipples, trading one hand to trail further down your chest and out of frame, “mostly here, though,” he can’t see it, but your hands dip under the fabric of your panties, fingers spreading through the wetness that had gathered there, just from looking at him, knowing the effect you were having on him, “is that where you wanna be?”

Joel nods despite his mind searching for a reason to stall this from happening, palming his cock more noticeably through his sweats, and instead, he blames you, “This is all your fault,” he grits out, but you know he isn’t talking about the depravity at hand, rather the sizable bulge, then he was shifting his hand under the waistband of his pants to grab at his cock, knowing that first touch would seal his fate.

You two were already well-invested in the situation at hand, there was no end in sight.

“Is it?” you ask curiously, gasping as you dip two of your fingers inside of you and curl, squeezing tightly at your breast.

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath, hand working vigorously now under the fabric as he leaned adjusted his laptop to the arm of the chair more securely, sweetening the angle as his face strains out of frame but it gives you the perfect view of his heaving chest under his shirt, the thumb of his free hand curling over the waistband of his pants, giving you an enticing view of the trail of hair that led down to the base of his cock, desperate to taste him, “You can’t keep doin’ this to me.”

His gaze is locked onto the screen, pupils blown wide with a mix of desire and desperation as he watches you explore yourself, though all you can catch is the way his mouth hangs open, hastily shoving his shirt up.

“Let me see,” you beg, needy, “fuck—I miss it, miss you.”

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he mutters under his breath, and you can see him shifting in his chair as if contemplating his next move. “You’re pushin’ me.”

Regardless, he listens.

He shifts the material down his legs with a sharp, messy tug until he can kick the clothing away, his cock at center frame and painfully hard, balls drawn tight as he fists his cock swiftly, tugging alongside your breathy moans.

Normally, you’d drag this out and make use of the expensive toys you’ve kept so near and dear, but Joel was beyond worked up, teetering the line of busting his load, and you were impatient.

“Go on,” Joel encourages with a grunt, “since you’ve been teasin’ me all night,”

You reach forwardly quickly and angle your screen down slightly, still keeping yourself in frame but remove your panties, tantalizingly slow as you spread your legs apart, your fingers driving down the center of your folds as you circle your fingers through the copious slick that had grown in such a short amount of time, the glint of it visible even with the shitty laptop camera.

Joel chokes on a breath, dragging his thumb over the head of his cock and around, circling the sensitive tip as he traded glances between you and his throbbing length, "Show me how much you miss this," Joel breathes, his voice straining with every syllable.

Your fingers move expertly, teasing and exploring yourself with a sense of urgency. The heat between your bodies grows palpable, words exchanged through lust-laden breaths alone, your fingers circling over your clit desperately.

His hand works faster, the slick sounds of his arousal mixing with the echo of your moans.

You can see him struggling to keep his eyes on you, but every flick of your fingers sends him closer to the edge. Your body arches away from the chair, the soft glow from your screen highlighting every curve as you give in to the heat that was coiling in your gut, breathing heavily.

“I wish you would just touch me,” you say breathlessly, “— jus’ take care of me like you always have,”

Joel’s hands tighten around himself at the thought of you—how soft you would feel wrapped around him, how perfectly you’d fit with him, “You’re killin’ me,” he grits out, “you’re fuckin’ kill me—”

“You could be here, Joel,” you whimper, voice thick with desire. “I could be there with you. We could take our time…”

“Sweetheart,” it was warning, watching his fist work furiously around his cock, open-mouthed and strung out groans as he rocker his hips up into his grip, “I’m with ya, I’m right here—”

“S’not good enough,” you say truthfully, body shuddering as your orgasm was clawing at the edge of your sanity, “I wanna feel you so bad, want you to–fuck me—”

“C’mon sweetheart,” He groans, “make yourself come while I watch,”

You let out a whimper at his words, feeling the weight of his gaze on you despite only half of his face being visible. You lean back in your chair, spreading your legs wider, giving him a full view of your glistening core as you press two fingers deeper inside alongside your fingers that work over your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Just like that,” he urges, his voice low, “Let me see how much you want it.”

You nod, breathless, feeling the pressure building within you like a coiled spring ready to pop, “Come with me,” you murmur between gasps, the distinct sound of skin sliding against skin echoing through the call, “please…please…”

Joel spills over his fist with a noisy grunt as you come, letting out a muffled cry through your palm as you hand clasps over your mouth, watching his cum spray against his stomach and drip over his fist, his breathing slowing as the moment passes.

He grimaces at the mess and you giggle, easing your shaky legs down to retrieve your underwear, leaning in close to the screen as he adjusts until his face is back in view, your tongue dragging against your bottom lip as you look at him, full seriousness, “I bet you wish I was there to clean up the mess now, huh?”

He shoots you a glare, though his scowl is visibly softer.

He cleans up hastily, watching you organize your things away quietly, collected, like you hadn’t just come apart from the sound of his voice and his leaking cock and Joel has the sense that this was always the plan, like you were always one step ahead of him, even when he wasn’t planning.

“Did you actually need to study?” Joel asks after a beat, “Or am I that gullible?”

“I found that experience…very knowledgeable, actually,” you joke, adjusting your shirt back into place and never amiss to the way Joel eyes your breasts hungrily.

Joel chuckles, the sound deep and throaty, raw, “A hell of a way to kill time on a Friday night,”

You nod knowingly, “Goodnight, I guess?”

Joel snorts out another quiet chuckle and nods, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

–

If only it had remained that easy.

Joel goes radio silent soon after—maybe busy, maybe torn up from the guilt that always seemed to creep back in after talking to you lately, but it worried you.

That, and, Joel listened.

He listened when no one else really did.

When you ace your semester final, there’s no one to tell.

Your father never answered his phone, a voicemail box full that he refused to empty, and a devastatingly lackluster response when you were able to reach him for something. Only when you were in town did his effort feel genuine, but even then, it was sparse.

It was little things—small things that seemed unimportant to others but that you knew Joel would treat as if they were bigger than life, a warm feeling you never felt with anyone but him.

Tommy, too—but with Joel, it was substantially different.

And when you get desperate, you get reckless.

You weren’t sure how he was going to react, but you snapped the picture anyway.

You had your breasts spilling over the edge of the lacy bra, hand resting on your hip as you framed yourself in the mirror, cutting off just at the tip of your hips and the way your finger hooked into the fabric.

It takes you too long, going back and forth over this being a terrible idea or a genius one, momentarily scrolling over your father’s name with worry, knowing that even with his lack of caring, he’d still send a message after a length of time, even if it was one-word. 

Then you scroll to Joel’s name, scrolling through the various back and forth calls that had taken place over the span of a month or two, feeling a sinking in your gut that pulls the courage away.

It doesn’t return until later that night, conflicting thoughts in your head as you lay half awake and scrolling through your phone again that you find the brevity, swiftly scrolling through your contacts with blurry eyes to send the photo before you second guess yourself.

You succumb to sleep quickly after, avoiding the anxiety that creeps into your chest but returns the moment your eyes open, checking your phone with not a notification or response back in sight, half-tempted to drive back to Austin in search of answers.

But, on a whim, you scroll, checking through your messages and finding your father at the top, figuring that it should be Joel, but it wasn’t—then, it dawns on you.

“Oh, fuck,” you curse, quickly opening the message to exactly what you’re suspecting as the realization washes over, the scandalous picture on full display and SENT under your father’s contact name.

You scramble, rising to your knees in bed as you panicked to text Joel a simple 911 and pray that he picked up—fortunately, he does.

You try to stifle the anger that boils to the surface at how easily he answers after radio silence for so long.

“I’m going to ignore that you’ve been ignoring me,” you interject quickly before he can speak, “but please tell me you’re home or at least close to home,”

“I broke my phone a couple weekends ago, I’ve been waiting for the new one to come in,” Joel explains passively, but he hears the panic in your voice, “why—what’s goin’ on?”

“Are you home?” you ask again.

“I’m walkin’ out my front door,” Joel begins, hearing the door click shut.

“I need you to get my dad’s phone,” you explain vaguely.

“Alright,” he sounds unconvinced, answering slowly, “and why is that?”

“I sent him something by accident,” you rush out, heart racing as panic rises in your throat.

“Wait, what? What did you send?” Joel asks, the concern in his voice palpable. 

You can hear him moving quickly down the steps, the sound of his boots hitting the pavement echoing in your ear and you send the photo over without any preamble or explanation, hearing his keys fall to the pavement.

“It was supposed to go to you,” you admit, feeling heat in your cheeks despite the distance between you, already suspecting the frozen look on his face, “I wanted you to answer me.”

“Kiddo, I’ve just been busy,”

“It’s been a month, you said you’ve been trying to get a new phone for a couple weeks,”

“We’re really arguin’ about this right now?” Joel asks, already heading toward your father’s house across the street, hastily coming up with a plan in his head, “You can’t do this shit.”

He leaves you on the phone as he shoves you in his back pocket, coming up with a bullshit excuse as he asks your dad for his phone, hearing how it had been dead all morning and hadn’t had a chance to check his text from you, specifically, hearing the uptick in Joel’s tone as he urges him to hand the phone over.

You can vaguely hear something about Joel needing to add his new number, even though it clearly hadn’t changed at all, your dad reciting his code as Joel attempts to make idle conversation to distract your father, assuming he’d accomplished what he came to do, you hear the brief goodbye and then loud shuffling in your ear.

“....what happened?”

“I took care of it,” Joel tells you, before swiftly switching gears, “do you have classes today?”

“No,” you answer hesitantly, “why?”

“I’ll be there in a couple hours,” You’re not sure why the admission makes you panic.

“Joel—”

“That was real fuckin’ stupid, you know?” Joel starts,

“What? Are you gonna rush down here to punish me over it?” You retort, a tinge of frustration in your tone.

“Is that what you need?” Joel counters.

There’s a heaviness to the silence that neither of you address.

“Just be ready,” Joel says with finality.

–

“I was ignoring you.”

He’d taken you to a diner further into town, wordless upon arrival, his hands tight on the steering wheel. The moment you two receive your food, he speaks, despite how you had been staring him down the entire ride there and while you waited for your meal.

“No shit,” your laugh is hollow, arms crossed over your chest, “you remember how I gave you an out and you still said no?”

The guilt is evident, flashing across his face as he eats, pointing toward your own to urge you to do the same, halfway through the meal he wipes his mouth and continues.

“It was a couple weeks, but I couldn’t stop fuckin’ thinking about it,” not you—it, whatever had been transpiring between you two, “I’m tryin’ to hold a damn meeting over zoom about scheduling and all I can think about is how you sound,”

“Then why ignore me?” you press him, “Why?”

“Because I should care about you the same way I care about my girls,” Joel admits, twisting idly at the watch on his wrist, arms settling against the table, “I do—but you’re not…mine,”

“What does that even mean?” you ask, increasingly irritated.

“I don’t want you thinkin’ you owe any of this to me. You ain’t my daughter and I never tried to be your father, we’ll never be that,” Joel explains and while he had filled a void that was lacking, you could recognize the difference, “but me and you, doin’ all that—I mean look at you, sending that shit to him, even accidentally—”

You weren’t thinking, only acting on desire that wasn’t even fully returned.

It was your turn to sit in silence, looking briefly out the window to the passing cars.

“The other two weeks weren’t that—I dropped it on site during my break and it got ran over, tore it to shreds. I had to replace it. You’re fuckin’ lucky I picked up, saved your ass…”

“So, what was your plan here?” you ask, impatient, “Lecture me? Discipline me?”

“Neither,” Joel decides, throwing a dirtied napkin on his empty plate before he nods to leave, placing a wad of cash onto the table to pay for the ticket.

–

Joel was unsettlingly silent, still tense from the meal you had shared, but he keeps making turns and you’re becoming more and more annoyed as time drags on.

“Don’t think I forgot about your birthday,” Joel quips, turning down a darker road with no street lights, leading to a building shrouded with darkness and surrounded by a thick, metal gate, “I’ve been tryin’ to find the right time to bring you out here, been buildin’ it for the past six months and Ellie thought you’d like it, mighta…brought it up to her,”

It’s giving you emotional whiplash the way he slides back into the comforting man he always has been in your life, physical and mental feelings aside, he’s always been good at it.

The concern is etched on your face as you squint to see through the darkness, wondering how many laws you were breaking as you passed the NO TRESPASSING sign, quickly snapping your head over to look at Joel.

“I’m headin’ the project, ain’t nothin’ for you to worry about,” Joel soothes, “now you ain’t gotta forgive me and you can go back to hatin’ me after this—”

“Easy,” you reply quickly, feeling the car pull to a stop as Joel cuts the engine and removes the keys, “you know—my birthday isn’t for another few weeks, so you’re a little early,”

Nitpicky, but you had nothing else to bite at him with.

Joel grins and beckons you out of the truck, shoving his key into the lock on the gate as you approach close by, snaking under his arm as he raises it to pry the gate apart, following in close behind.

“Lately we’ve been stickin’ to residentials but,” the door opens, hefty and solid metal as Joel urges you inside, “ain’t never built an observatory before, first time for everything ya know?”

Your eyes widen at the sheer size of the inside, the roof expanding high above your head to accommodate the large telescope that sat in the center of the room. The walls were adorned with intricate diagrams of celestial bodies, constellations mapped out with careful precision, and the ambient light was soft but inviting, casting a gentle glow over the room. 

It felt like stepping into a sanctuary dedicated to the stars and space.

“Wow,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper, taking in the sight of the observatory with an honest, authentic surprise before you pause, peering at Joel with a slight hint of worry, “—this is…breaking at least a few rules, isn’t it?”

Joel nods admittedly.

You walk around aimlessly, admiring the craftsmanship before your fingers trail along the lens of the telescope, dancing around the question without asking.

“All yours,” Joel tells you.

“Did you like it?” you ask suddenly, squinting to peer through the open slat of the ceiling and into the sky, astounded by the detail it shown, frozen for a stretch of time before Joel makes a noise, something between a huff and laugh, looking back over to find his hands settled against his hips, eyes squinting as if he’s searching his mind for the right answer to your question.

“Don’t lie,” you tell him, “I just…thought that you would like it. I’ve never taken one before, for anyone…”

“Look,” Joel starts, his tone growing serious as he moves closer to you, “I don’t think you need me to answer because you already know—you just wanna hear me say it,”

Damn, he was good.

You turn slowly on your heels to meet his approach, arms crossing tightly over his chest to close himself off to you, but you only step closer.

“Then say it,” you challenge him smugly, watching him swallow quietly under your gaze.

“We’re not—”

“Oh, save it,” you interrupt in a snarky tone, “I know the moment you get home you’re gonna jerk off to it and then try to pretend you’re better than all this,”

“It ain’t that,” Joel says defensively, “when the fuck are you gonna understand that?”

“Pull it up,” you demand him, nodding your chin toward the phone buried in his pocket.

Joel sets his jaw and yanks his phone from his pocket, realizing that his phone was still open to the exact photo you had sent him earlier, eyes lingering on the photo before you press a finger against his chest, “It would kill you, you know, to admit that you might want me,”

You casually lean over to click on the message, promptly deleting it.

“Is that all you’re worried about?” Joel asks, “You’re reckless, you don’t think about the consequences of shit like this? If your daddy had seen that photo—”

“Take me back to my dorm.”

“What?”

“Where do you draw the line, Joel? Is it only the thought of fucking me that repulses you? Oh, but telling me how to get myself off isn’t off the table, letting me jerk you off in the middle of the night and lick up your cum, that’s fine, right?”

His jaw clenches at your words, the tension thick in the air between you two. 

You can see the struggle in his eyes as he fights against the pull towards you, his mind racing with conflicting feelings and thoughts.

“Stop,” he commands, though his voice lacks conviction. 

He takes a step back, but you follow, closing the distance between your bodies. 

“Why?” you ask defiantly, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze, “Why should I stop when you’re clearly thinking about it?”

“This ain’t the place for that,” he mutters, but even as he says it, his eyes flicker down to your lips, and there’s a primal hunger lurking just beneath the surface before he grabs your biceps and hauls you back out and to his truck, opening the passenger side door with a less than gentle manner as you climb inside, closing the door when you’re safely inside before slipping into the driver’s seat, silence settling.

He shifts in his seat, a growl of frustration escaping his lips. “This ain’t a game,” he warns, but his eyes betray him—showing a flicker of interest as they devour you whole, “if you can’t understand that—this, it can’t happen.”

“I think you really underestimate me,” you retort.

“No, I’m fuckin’ terrified of you,” Joel admits suddenly, “and how you’re makin’ me feel.”

Empathy has always been your weakness, but you’re hesitant with him now.

Guarded.

“If you didn’t want this I’d rather you say it instead of draggin’ this along,” you tell him.

Joel's gaze hardens, the tension between you thickening as you challenge him. 

He was caught in your web, and he knew it.

“I want you,” he finally admits, the admission hangs in the air like a charged storm cloud ready to strike lightning down on the cab of his truck.

“Then stop fighting it,” you breathe into him, moving closer now but still keeping a distance, his face melting against your touch as you turn his head to look at you, “I can keep your secrets, Joel.”

He doesn’t answer with words, but he looks at you.

Right at you, eyes stuck on the way your lips part, taking in a shaky breath.

“I’m still wearing it,” you admit, voice raising a subtle octave higher with a sudden nervousness, “if you wanna see?”

Joel’s eyes drag to your chest instinctually, looking around quickly to survey the area.

He knew there wasn’t anything to worry about out here, covered in a thick shadow of darkness save the gentle light of the moon and he nodded, the weakest you’ve ever seen him.

Your heart races as you slowly lift the fabric of your shirt, revealing the delicate lace of the bra beneath. The air thickens with a hunger that washes over Joel’s gaze, his hand slowly drifting to rest against the knee that had shifted over his spread leg

“Fuck,” he breathes, as if he can barely contain himself. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

It was the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him at this moment that sends a thrill down your spine. You continue to tease, inching the straps of your bra down over your shoulders, as your fingers curl over the lacy cups and pull down.

 “You can have a taste,” you whisper, your breath catching in your throat, “if you’re willing to get over that no-touch rule,” you notice the way his hand has already seemed to bypass it, squeezing at your knee gently before his fingers slowly curl around the side of your waist, pushing and pulling at the same time until your chest is presented to him, his eyes lingering on you for a brief moment before he places kiss at the center of your chest.

The warmth of his lips leave a sting as he trails, each side of your collarbone, your shoulders, down your chest again, the gentle contact sending shivers racing through your body. 

You gasped softly, arching your chest further toward him, craving more and willing him to close the distance. “More,” you urged breathlessly, your hands finding their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer.

Joel’s mouth moved lower, kissing down your torso with a fervor that made your heart race. 

His lips trailed over your abdomen, hot and possessive, as his fingers tugged at the fabric until it folded over, hanging uselessly under your breasts.

He paused for only a moment before lifting his gaze to meet yours again—his eyes dark with desire before you’re moving, quick and sudden as you spread yourself out over his lap, gasping at the feeling of his teeth dragging over your nipple, his tongue swirling around the skin as it hardened in his mouth.

Your back arches in response, thighs pressing tightly against him as you let out a low moan, watching him place gentle, but sloppy kisses as he looked up at you, gauging your response.

Your eyes are heavy, weighted down with pleasure as you sigh, head falling back in response.

“You have me,” you tell him, like a mantra, repeating with every touch of his lips.

Joel wasn’t planning on letting you go.

–

Joel watches you through the tiny screen of your phone as you fiddle with the new doorknob a day later, face contorted in concentration as you twist the screw into the fitted hole, “If this doesn’t work I’m kicking this door down,” you sigh, giving the screw one last tight turn before it clatters to the floor.

“I just walked you through, step by step,” Joel argues, “I’m startin’ to think you just don’t trust my advice…”

“Jury’s still out,” you respond absently, rising to your feet as you wiggle the doorknob to ensure it was secure before closing the door and opening it a few times, feeling satisfied went it doesn’t wobble when you pull, “....alright, you did good,”

Joel snorts tiredly, his camera fuzzy and badly lit as he laid in the dark, glasses hanging from the bridge of his nose as he looked at you through the screen of his phone. 

He listened, clearly. You had nagged him over his terrible eyesight for years.

“You should be paying me for my expertise,” he jokes, a lazy grin creeping onto his face despite the late hour and you smile at his growing openness to flirt with you.

“Is that right?” You ask, slowly lowering yourself onto your bed, “What would you charge for a handyman like you?”

“For you, pro bono,” Joel says softly, rounded out by a yawn.

“I know something you can bone,” it was so bad it made Joel groan in disgusted amusement.

“Go to bed, sweetheart,” He urges, and the words have never sounded sweeter.

–

A couple days later, you’re holding up his work for a much needed opinion.

The dress hugs your figure perfectly, but you’re still undecided.

“I like the green one more,” Joel adds, his backdrop dull and grey, blank aside from the scattered post-its—he was calling you from work, which was new.

“You just said you liked the purple more,” you argue, easily stripping the dress over your head and walking toward the camera topless, his gaze flicking up cautiously out of habit even if he was protected on all sides.

You fit the green, pattern embroidered dress over your body and examine yourself through the screen, not quite sold, and neither is Joel.

“If you say you like the purple one again,” you warn him, “I’m blocking your number.”

“Can’t help it, kiddo,” he shrugs, “M’just feelin’ indecisive.”

Most of your interactions had been held purely over phone calls or video chats lately, desperately awaiting the end of your semester before summer break, attempting to make the best of the situation despite Joel’s still…occasional weariness about your relationship.

He was waiting for the other shoe to drop—knowing that no matter what good he had in his life, something was bound to fuck it up.

“Guess I’ll just go naked,” you decide, pulling the dress off in frustration before tossing it into the pile of clothes at the foot of your bed,

“Say that again,” Joel orders, his actions pausing on the other end as he stares you down.

“I guess I’ll go naked,” you say with emphasis, pushing your phone back slightly to prop against your pillow as your breasts push together by the force of your arms as they press into your mattress.

“Don’t joke like that,” Joel threatens, though his intention is empty. The tension crackles between you, thick and electric, a mixture of anticipation that never fails to send your heart racing.

You smirk, teasing him with a playful shrug as you lay out on your stomach, chin resting against your curled fist,  “What are you gonna do? Drive down here and stop me?” Your tone is light and playful, but Joel isn’t finding it amusing.

“You keep actin’ like a brat—” you’ve never seen him so serious, immediately pulling back on your teasing, “then yeah, I will.”

“Jeez, sorry,” you laugh slightly, “I’ll cool off then.”

“You wouldn’t listen to me even if I begged,” Joel says decisively, “so fuckin’ hardheaded,”

“I can,” you argue playfully, “for you, yeah.”

“Touch yourself,” he orders suddenly, your eyes widening at the command.

But, he waits, not a single ounce of wavering on his end.

“You’re serious?” you ask incredulously, half-laughing.

“Dead serious,” he replies quickly, “I’m not playin’ with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you consider it, the thrill of submission sending a rush of warmth through your body. You adjust your position slightly, arching your back to subtly tease him before slowly slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your panties. 

“Go on,” he encourages, “play with yourself, sweetheart.”

Admittedly, it was too easy.

Having him there, stern gaze stuck on you as your fingers circled your clit with a newfound urgency, free hand fisting into the sheets so hard you think the stitching might rip.

“Keep goin’,” Joel speaks distantly, “look up at me, kiddo,”

You do, embarrassed at how desperate your expression read through the camera, teeth sunk into your bottom lip as your hips rocked against the hurried movement of your fingers.

“Yeah, you close?” Joel asks, watching you stifle a moan into your arm. 

You nod frantically and release a sharp, shaky breath.

“Stop,” he demands suddenly, your body listening so intensely that you don’t even think when your fingers stop moving, they just do.

“What the fuck, Joel?” 

“Hands off ‘til summer,” Joel orders—it wasn’t that far, but enough that you scoff, which Joel takes as an act of defiance and raises an eyebrow in question, “that a problem?”

Shamefully, you shake your head.

“A couple weeks won’t kill you,” Joel assures you, “but if I find out you have…”

“I won’t,” you promise him, meaning it.

“Green, by the way,” Joel adds casually, “I like the green.”

You roll your eyes playfully at that, hearing his muffled but sincere goodbye as you hang up on him, your airy giggle like a melody as it sings through his speaker.

If only he could hold himself to the same damn rule.

-

previous chapter | next chapter

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divider credit: @/saradika-graphics

[dcxdpdabbles]

For The next part of freelance inventor, you should do more parent trapping(if you want, of course) I was just picturing cartoon level schemes trying to get these two to kiss.

On the flipside, what would happen if the two of them had a fight? I can see the kids and Alfred just kind of trying to make Bruce agree how wrong he was.

"Bruce?"

His heart stops at the sound of that voice, and then it speeds up before he can look over his shoulder. Not that he needs to. He already knows who called out to him.

Only one person in the world adds a certain ring to his name when they speak it.

Bruce turns away from his laptop, displaying some spreadsheets of the upcoming term, coming face to face with Danny Fenton's beaming smile. Behind him, the ocean gleams like liquid sapphire, highlighting the brightness and warmth in Danny's aqua-blue eyes.

He once thought Danny wasn't human; surely, no human could have eyes like those. The sunlight bounces off the dark of his hair, swaying in the breeze, and it somehow calls attention to the laughing lines around his eyes and mouth.

He's shirtless, showing off a physique that would fit a swimmer. His black swimming shorts are covered in the NASA symbol, which is such a Danny thing to do that it makes Bruce's heart skip a beat.

It's odd. As one of the wealthiest bachelors in the world, Bruce had always been surrounded by gorgeous people. Usually, women and men flung themselves at him, whispering false claims of eternal love while displaying teasing hints of the bodies. It was a tool they wielded to charm him into doing what they wanted, but none of them could even compare to Danny's looks.

Perhaps it was due to how effortlessly beautiful Danny was. He didn't spend hours and hours on his looks. Bruce had heard people claim the inventor was plain, but he could never see it.

Bruce had always thought he was pretty from the moment Dick wandered to his table. The gentleness with which he spoke to his then nine-year-old son with respect and full attention as he explained his first intention- the portable charger. How could anyone not be memorized by him?

"Danny? What are you doing here?" He asks after realizing he is gawking like a fool.

His friend's eyes crinkle further as he laughs. "On vacation. Jay and Dick told me about this place, and since I had a conference on the island, I thought I would spend my off time at the private huts. What about you?"

Oh, those little rats. This was all a setup. He should have known something was up when they all forced him to accept it.

"The kids bought me a private hut for a weekend." He answers, moving his eyes away from Danny's lips with great effort. "They said it was a gift and a means to follow my doctor's orders."

"Dami told me about that. The doctor said you have been putting too much stress on your heart, and yet, here you are, working on vacation." Danny planted his hands on his hips, shaking his head in mock pity. "I bet you haven't even frolicked through a field of flowers or jumped over waves since you arrived."

Bruce feels a burst of amusement and slight anticipation tickle the bottom of his stomach. "Well, I just don't know how to do any of that."

"Since we're hut neighbors, I could show you how to have fun. You rich people know what that is, right? Fun?" Danny asks, reaching down to grip Bruce's wrist. Where he touches, tringles of flames light up his skin, and Bruce fights to keep the blush off his face. "I suppose you don't. The first lesson must be how to frolic through the ocean waves, and it starts right now!"

"I thought it was a field of flowers?" He laughs, allowing the shorter man to pull him toward the blue water.

"It's a hybrid course, Bruce," Danny laughs, splashing through the first wave until they are waist-deep and spinning around to grin at him. Bruce practically swallows his own tongue as the man shines in the sunlight, with a beaming soft smile that makes him feel like the only man in the world. "Prepare for the best weekend of your life. No kids. No work. Just us, the ocean, and some tasty meals!"

"That sounds like heaven," Bruce tells him, wondering if Danny can tell how soft his eyes have become or the yearning in his voice. He just knows somewhere in Gotham, all his children are high-fiving each other and scheming up another ill-fated attempt to get Bruce with the man of his dreams.

It's not that he's unaware of their goals. But over ten years after he'd known Danny, silently pinning for him, Bruce realized it would never happen. His friend didn't feel attraction like that.

If Bruce had told him how he felt, he would have lost Danny forever. He would rather live with this buckling longing for the rest of his life if it meant he could be gifted with Danny's friendly smiles and presence.

Danny reaches back, cupping his hands to gather water and splashing Bruce with a gleeful "What are you standing around for? Come! Frolic!"

Bruce grins, throwing back some water in a bigger splash as the young man screams, attempting to escape. He follows close behind, trying to drown the other between gasps of laughter. For a brief moment, he allows himself to live a fantasy life where this was a real romantic getaway, not a setup by his less-than-subtle children.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Fine! Be that way! Excuse me for having a fucking opinion!" Danny hisses, swinging around and stomping out of the room. Bruce's chest feels hot with anger; the angry words that had fallen from his mouth taste bitter and satisfying simultaneously. It's a whirlwind of contradicting emotions that he does nothing when the other man slams the door behind him.

He slams his hands over his eyes, willing himself to calm down but it's hard when Danny is the one who set him off. Danny is the only one in the world that made him feel everything like an explosion.

Both the positive and negative emotions.

How did things come to this? The conversation was going well until the two started talking about the Joker. He's always known his friend had a less white and dark point of view regarding the clown, but to actively claim that Batman was a coward for not killing him when he had the chance?

Yes, Danny didn't know Bruce was Batman, so when he tried to explain that the superhero was afraid that if he started taking lives, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop Danny had grown dismissive. It wasn't meant to attack Bruce, but he knows that logically.

But it still felt like the man he was in love with was calling him a coward straight to his face, and Bruce grew defensive. He tends to lash out when he's on the defense, and before long, the two were in a heated debate about vigilantes in general.

Suddenly, Danny was his face, sneering and growling, when Bruce pointed out that Phantom was the small-town hero of Danny's boyhood and someone he felt jealous of. Danny obviously held the hero in high regard to the point it felt like he was in love with him if Danny was inclined to such emotions- he was just if not more dangerous than Batman would ever be.

It went even worse when Bruce spoke his support for the Anti-Eco Acts that were currently being discussed.

A lot of hateful words were spoken in ten minutes, and by the end of it, Bruce couldn't even figure out how it ended, with Danny's eyes watering up with angry tears or his chest heaving with the screaming.

Why did he even say that? Bruce had a lot of issues with the Anit-Eco Acts. They were far too seated in bigotry to be anything but an excuse to hunt a different race.

He regretted his words, though he doubted he could ask Danny for forgiveness soon. That man was known for holding a grudge and giving the cold shoulder when angry.

Bruce would have to grovel later.

The door to his study slams open, and his children crowd the entrance, looking alight and outraged.

"Why did you make Dad cry!?" Jason demands, crossing his arms and looking ready to throw down. The kids started calling Danny Dad a few months ago when Tim accidentally slipped it into a conversation, and Danny thought it was sweet.

They played it off as a joke, but Bruce knew they liked referring to him as Dad. Bruce was Father in formal events, B in casual moments, and when angry with him, the kids simply referred to him as B.

B for Bitch since you act like one, Dick once explained, eyes burning with anger and a smile as sharp as broken glass.

"You better have a good reason, B." Tim hisses, voice low and anger tightly coiled like a snake ready to strike. It's a violent reminder of Danny that Bruce can only place his hand over his eyes again and groan.

"We had a disagreement."

"What did you do?" Damian demands next, tapping his left foot impatiently. He picked that up from Jazz the last time Danny's sister was in town. "Before claiming innocence, just know you're always at fault. Dad can do no wrong."

"Hear, hear," Steph, Duke, and Cass say together, glaring daggers at Bruce.

Great. The kids have unionized against him.

"We had a disagreement on the Anti-Eco Acts." He grits through clutch teeth, trying to get his shimmering anger to calm down. The children are not helping, and his frustration rises slowly at the avalanche of noise his children release.

"How dare you!"

"Those acts are a blatant disregard of human decency!"

"I always knew you were a white privilege asshole but this!?"

"I will stay with Danny for the rest of the month! I can't believe this!"

"Look here, you Father. You will not support those act,s especially at the expense of Dad!"

"You blue-eyed demon."

Bruce puts his head into his hands and screams. Danny returns to talk this over hours later, but Bruce is right.

He has a lot of groveling he needs to do. His kids still lock him out of his room. They have a sleepover with Danny, dragging in their mattress and watching movies late into the night.

He sleeps on the couch, listening to their merry-making with a heavy heart. Aflred refused to let him sleep in a guest room once Dick informed him that Bruce was in the dog house with Danny.

Betrayed in his own home.

The Anti-Ecto Acts are rejected primarily due to Bruce Wayne spearheading their resistance. Danny hugs him when he reads the paper, and all is right with the world. The Kids still don't let him sleep in his own bed, and for a month, Bruce's back hurts from the lumping couch cushions.

Clark tells him jokingly the children would choose Danny in a divorce, so he starts carrying around Kryptonite.

[0039pf-third-blog-hooray]

explaining! my main goal was to make them different and colorful. everything else is secondary. i didn't really try to make them realistic, i didn't really try to make them historical. this is character design, right? so, the main thing is that everyone is readable and unique among others in their environment. if you don't confuse anyone, then i've made it, hehe!

i made them colorful because, firstly, i just like it that way, and secondly, it's customary to exaggerate book characters for illustrations so that the image is brighter and more recognizable. if i were drawing as if for a movie/series, i would have done it differently. but this is a book. and, as i like to say, am i studying to be a theater artist for nothing... 🤫

also i was laughing so hard at the song from bratz that i used for speedpaint because it was too funny to finish the work with. enjoy JHSJSHSHDH

a few words about each one, not in the order in the picture:

i had an idea to draw aramis a popular type of lovelock at that time - with a ribbon of his beloved's favorite color. this hairstyle was also worn together with pearl in the left ear. i learned about it from another artist, and then i read about it on the internet in more detail. and when i sketched him for the first time, i drew it exactly like that, but this time i already came to the idea that, unfortunately, he would hardly wear such a hairstyle in reality. in the first book he hides the woman's identity until the end, when everything has long been obvious to everyone 😭 so there would hardly be any hint in his appearance about his lady. fanfact, his heel is slightly higher than the others. aramis, the man you are 💅 and i also really ask you to take a closer look at aramis's hairstyle, i left a tiny detail there. it's right there in plain sight and it's hidden in the styling!!

porthos is associated with warm colors for me, because he's such a silly, but together with aramis and d'artagnan it turned into one spot. so i went with the second option - blue, because i really liked that he appeared in sky blue before d'artagnan when they galloped after the duke, even though it was already in the second book. he turned out so charming, wahaha.

i think olive is the perfect choice for athos in the first book. depressive, long-term drunkard, but a nobleman undercover. matching? also, i have a headcanon that athos is this much 🤏 shorter than d'artagnan and aramis. just because it's funny. and those two are about the same, because it was specified in the book that they have the same size

d'artagnan is simple, yellow-brown - a young provincial, even the collar does not really match the shirt. where will he get the money for a collar for each shirt... but he's the only one with a bright feather, the mc after all! if you look closely, the feathers of all the others do not stand out so much. that's how it was intended. btw, his shirt is a little yellowing, if you look closely, you can see it

i really like it when all the characters has their own little things. their own collars, their own way of wearing jackboots, their own little details of the sleeves. i drew simply, but put my soul into it. i tried to put a lot into the form, both in general and in the details, and although i could explain absolutely everything, i would like you to look closely at it yourself 💝

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

Stephanie Brown: it’s not my job to protect Crystals sobriety

Also Stephanie Brown: it’s absolutely my job to protect Crystals sobriety

This isn’t inconsistent to me at all btw . I think it makes a lot of sense and says a lot about the evolution of Steph and Crystals relationship.

I just find it super duper interesting. Bc Steph isn’t wrong at all, it isn’t her job, but it was. It was her job for a WHILE! it was her job to protect crystal because no one else (including crystal herself) was going to.

Crystal doesn’t really start to clean herself up until Cataclysm starts, and even then it’s not an automatic thing. Especially not for Steph, who doesn’t move on and accept that Crystals better now, that she’s going to be there for Steph, that Steph doesn’t have to protect her anymore, because that just hadn’t been true for the previous 15 years.

And it shows so evidently over and over again that Steph just doesn’t immediately accept and embrace this development. She supports Crystal all the way, and she loves her mom so goddamn much, but Steph doesn’t slot naturally into the ‘Crystal can be trusted to take care of me / I don’t need to take care of her’ dynamic at ALL!

In the very scene where we start to see Crystal recognizing her shortcomings as Steph’s parent, what I consider the turning point for Crystals recovery, we see how unnatural a relationship with Crystal where Steph doesn’t need to take care of her comes to Steph:

It’s Steph who reaches out to emotionally support Crystal, it’s Steph who crouches down to reassure her, it’s Steph who comforts and takes care of her and literally tucks her in to sleep. Steph is framed in every way as the caretaker, even as Crystal starts to recognize the unfairness of Steph taking on that role instead of Crystal.

Steph hides things from Crystal, she takes care of issues herself. When Crystals brother, Steph’s ‘Uncle Dave’ begins hitting on Steph, she takes care of it herself, and when Spoiler succeeds in sending him to jail, Steph brushes off Crystals question of where Dave went, seemingly finding it unnecessary and superfluous to explain anything to Crystal. After all, Steph makes the connection herself when she directly compares Arthur to Dave in terms of Crystals ‘malfunctioning lie detector’- Steph sees Crystal as just as ineffectual to protect Steph from Dave as Crystal was in protecting Steph from Arthur. It’s not something Steph has to think twice about at all, she deals with the issue herself, and she doesn’t worry Crystal with the details. She takes that burden automatically, because that was Steph’s childhood. Thats her natural state.

Not to mention the framing of this moment alongside another smaller instance of Steph looking out for Crystal, she made her breakfast.

There lots of smaller instances of Steph being unwilling to confide in Crystal, and while some of them come across as run of the mill teen angst- I think there is an understandable undercurrent. Even with their relationship at its very best- Steph can’t fully confide in or communicate effectively with Crystal. Steph usually comes to the conclusion that Crystal won’t get it, that Crystal won’t be able to understand very quickly. Reading this as an extension of how unreliable and just plain out of it Crystal was for the majority of Steph’s childhood, how ‘checked out’ mentally Crystal was feels like a fair read. And Crystals well meaning efforts to talk to Steph usually don’t extend very far past a dismissal from Steph. Crystal gave it a go, but seems to give up and move on fairly easily once stonewalled by Steph.

Steph’s subconscious image of Crystal while she gives birth is that of Crystal at her worst - enabling Arthur’s abuse and completely untrustworthy and unable to determine a dangerous situation.

Another quick example of Steph’s frame of mind when it comes to Crystal and Steph’s assumed responsibility for her:

These are all examples that take place after Crystal has begun to clean herself up and becomes much more aware of how she’d let down Steph in her childhood.

Anyway all that to say, I think it’s actually might be a good sign that Steph takes that angle, that she asserts aloud that maintaining Crystals sobriety isn’t her job. She’s not trying to be cruel, and she’s not heartless, and it definitely doesn’t mean she doesn’t love her mom, it just means maybe Steph has finally really started to come to terms with Crystals growth and their new relationship. Maybe their relationship has reached a point where even when they’re on the outs, when Steph is pissed and scared and upset at Crystal, she’s secure enough overall to trust that Crystal doesn’t need Steph to constantly be there like watching over her, that Crystals recovery isn’t Steph’s responsibility anymore.

Their relationship doesn’t get like instantly healed and it doesn’t mean they’re suddenly great at communicating, the opposite rly, Steph literally runs away to avoid having to be around Crystal, but I think this line says something and I think it’s probably a good something.

[awakenedevildays]

「naps and forgetfulness」 Stiles Stilinski x F!reader

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

The door clicks shut as you walk into Stiles bedroom. Thanks to your luck Sheriff Stilinski was just getting out of the house when you arrived at his porch and quickly let you in before going to work.

You spot Stiles immediately: he is curled up in his bed with his lips parted slightly and his breathing soft, he is wearing the grey sweatpants you love paired with a plain t-shirt and hair slightly messier than usual.

Despite the fact that you're slight mad at him for forgetting to come pick you up after work, the sight can't help but make you giggle lovingly at his expression and let your purse fall on the floor silently before changing into one of his shirts and boxers.

Stiles continues to remain asleep, unaware of your presence in the room and it doesn't really surprise you, he is a very heavy sleeper, after all, and it’d take a lot more than just a small giggle to wake him up.

His body shifts on the blankets, rolling over onto his belly and you take advantage of his change of position to climb on his bed and body to leave a trail of kisses up his back until the nape of his neck. His skin is soft to the touch, and as your lips leave gentle kisses on his skin, his muscles visibly shudders until you can feel him starting to stir, even if his eyes are still closed.

"mh?" he mumbles with frowning eyebrows.

"excuse me sir? I think you're in the wrong bed, and house" you whisper in his ear after nibbling it softly with your teeth.

His body stiffens when your teeth graze over his ear, but he sighs at the sound of your voice as a soft smile appears on his lips. "Baby, what are you doin here?" he mumbles sleepily but he's not displeased to see (hear) you, on the contrary, he loves when you unexpectedly come at his house to see him.

He moves to turn around on his back and you lift your hips just enough for him to do it without difficulty, only to sit back on his hips when he's done moving.

"I wanted to see if everything was okay, but it seems I was worried for nothing" you say with a bit of sarcasm in your voice that Stiles catches immediately, he opens his eyes to look at you groggily.

"oh no, what did I do?" he asks, resting his hands on your hips to squeeze them lightly, his face already looks guilty and your heart melts.

"you were supposed to come pick me up at work so that we could spend the night at my house which, as you may remember, is empty because my parents are away, watch a movie, have sex and sleep together so that we could have gone to school together tomorrow morning, does something ring in that pretty head of yours?" you explain with a victorious smile on your face.

"oh, fuck. baby I'm sorry, I swear I didn't forget I fell asleep after coming back home and forgot to set the alarm, I'm so sorry" he says covering his face in embarrassment. “Are you mad at me?”

"No, I've come to terms with it, my friends had warned me, after all" you sigh while resting your hands on his belly and he looks at you confused, you barely manage to hide a smile "that you would get tired of me and keep me around just for sex, like all boys do, after all-"

"ok that's it, you've said enough bullshits already." he says grinning and pulls you by your hands to lay your body over his and wrap his arms around you to keep you there, a squeal leaves your lips between laughters. After all, he knows you're only joking.

"you're stuck here now, forever" he says laughing as his hands start moving up and down your back, he's strong enough to keep you pressed against his chest but even if he wasn't, you would never dream of moving, ever.

"I don't mind" you admit hiding your face in his neck to kiss it lovingly and he sighs, closing his sleepy eyes as if your lips on his neck are trying to lull him back to sleep.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't want you to take the bus to come here" he apologizes again.

"I didn't take the bus, Logan drove me here" you answer and you feel a sense of satisfaction at your words when you hear your boyfriend groan.

"fucking Logan" you giggle "with his- fucking Mercedes and his- fucking crush on you" he keeps on rambling.

"oh come on! he was being nice" you say to lighten his thoughts.

"yeah right, of course he's always fucking nice, he's got a massive crush on you, I bet you love his car more than mine" he mumbles with a displeased expression on his face.

"don't be ridiculous, I love your Jeep" you tell him between giggles and Stiles rolls you two over so that you're on your back and him splayed on top of you and between your legs, now it's his turn to hide his face in your neck.

"and you love me right? more than- and better than Logan right?" he mumbles nuzzling his nose against your neck, and his arms wrap around your body to keep you still, you're definitely not going anywhere anytime soon.

"I don't know, before making such a statement I should ask him if he would ever forget to come pick m- OW!" a harsh bite on your neck interrupts you.

"don't even joke about it" he says against your skin after kissing the still sore spot and slowly moving up your neck until they're next to your ear. "and for the record, you're stuck with me baby" he whispers.

"I'm happy to hear that, now give me a real kiss" you demand.

"yes, ma'am." he mutters before propping himself on one of his elbows to move better his other hand from your hip to your chin, your head now tilted so that he can kiss you properly. His lips move against yours as his body presses yours further against the mattress.

His tongue slides over your bottom lip and you feel him smiling before his tongue slips inside your mouth, all you can taste and feel is him, and as his tongue teases yours you let your hand tangle into his messy hair and tug at it lightly.

His hands move up, taking your shirt with it until it's bunched over your bra before slowly breaking the kiss to remove the piece of fabric.

"what do you think you're doing?" you ask, taking his wrist in your fingers to stop him and it takes a second for Stiles to understand what you just asked, his lust-filled eyes looks at you unfocused. His dilated pupils roam down the length of your body until he reaches your chest and the black bra you're wearing, but almost as if he just realized he's doing something wrong he shakes his head.

"I- I'm sorry, I thought uhm- I thought we were going to have sex" his words drift off while his fingers, still wrapped around the fabric of 'your' shirt, twitch in excitement and anticipation.

"oh!" you laugh "no, no. we're not going to have sex baby" you tell him with a satisfied smile on your face.

"w-we're not?" your boyfriend asks and he can't help but look disappointed when you push him by his shoulder until he falls on his back next to you so that you're able to get up from his bed, he was looking forward to that.

"No, we're not" you confirm and he looks at you in disbelief, eyes and mouth wide open in shock as he props his body on his elbows again to look at you better.

"is it because I didn't come to pick you up from work?" he asks but he already knows the answer.

"You're so smart, love-" you compliment him, walking towards the bed to kiss his lips "now come on, let's go to my house."

"right now?" he asks and there's still disappointment in his voice, but he doesn't protest further as he gets up to start looking for his car keys.

"Yeah! I still want to spend the night with you at mine's" you say as a matter of fact and Stiles hurries to grab his hoodie from where it laid on his desk.

"And- and we're just gonna- watch a movie and call it a day or…?" he asks, his voice is doubtful, and it's clear he's still waiting for a chance to change your mind.

"That depends, are you going to pay for dinner?"

"Like I always do"

"And are you going to forget about me again?"

"Never again, I'll die before it happens a second time"

"Mh… we'll see" you only say walking out of his room and down the stairs with him following you like a kicked puppy.

"Baby, come on! I said I'm sor- are you wearing my boxers? are you trying to kill me?!"

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

it seems like I also write for Stiles now, lol, enjoy! 💞

Not proofread, I'll correct it in the next days.

Do not copy or repost.

[pierregazly]

i've got you ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x best friend!reader

warnings: angsty, arthur leclerc is the villain, oscar is in love w/ the reader but wont ever admit it, no hea [963 words]

request: 💗 can i request oscar with prompt 6? please and thank you!! 😽[6. "I've got you."]

A violent sob ripped itself from your body, your hand clutching the phone in front of you, the incriminating photo in plain view as you tried to process what was so prevalent on the screen.

It had been so obvious that things were falling apart in your relationship, they had been for months. Date nights were cancelled, anniversaries forgotten, but you never thought he would lower himself to this. Never thought you’d be getting that ‘I think this is your boyfriend?’ text. 

But here you were, trying to contain the feelings flowing through you, the anger, the sadness, the heartbreak.

He had told you it was a small trip with his brothers, it was offseason for everyone, the only time they really had to relax. The lie was staring right at you, Arthur’s hands gripping the ass of an unnamed brunette, his lips connected with hers. There was no denying that it was him, the video that followed showing the two of them pulling away from each other, an intoxicated smirk on the lips of your long-term boyfriend.

You didn’t know how to react. Didn’t know if it was worth sending the proof to him, whether you should call him and ask him outright or act like it was all fake. The emotions were running through you so aggressively, you hadn’t even had the chance to properly think through everything.

How could he do this? Why did he think this was okay? How can he tell you he loves you, and then do this? Were you not good enough for him?

The variety of thoughts continued to cipher through your mind. Your body was begging your brain to stop, begging it to give you a moment to get a grip on reality, begging it to allow you a moment to think clearly.

You barely heard the repetitive knock on the door, the noises mixing in with the unrelenting thumping noises clouding your ears.

Oscar had a key to the apartment, always had. He always claimed it was a ‘safety measure’ and he needed to have one in case anything happened, or in case he ever had to get you into your apartment after a night out.

Most of the time it was used because you weren’t answering a message quick enough, and he wanted to spend time with you. 

He had been messaging you since this morning, offering to bring you pastries from your favourite bakery, asking if you wanted to get lunch, had asked more than once if everything was alright. It wasn’t until he saw the pictures, his brain taking a moment to catch up with his eyes when he realized why you weren’t answering him.

You had been friends for years, longer than any of your other friendships, had known him almost double the amount of time you knew Arthur. He had tried more than once to explain how disastrous dating the Monegasque could end up, but his attempts were futile. You were too stubborn to listen to him, too enamoured to believe that Arthur could be anything except lovely.

There was barely a thought in his mind before he was making his way to your apartment, aggressively knocking on the door; practically begging to be let in. He knew you were in there, could hear the soft sounds of you crying through the door, his heart breaking with every vicious sob he heard through the wood.

It didn’t take him long to find his key, pushing open the door with a bated breath, unsure as to the scene he was about to walk into.

You didn’t even acknowledge his presence, your body having begun the process of curling in on itself, trying to savour any sense of peace it could gather. Oscar felt his stomach drop when he finally made eye contact with you, the puffiness of them so obvious, the tears still clouding your vision.

“Oh, love. C’mere, I’ve got you.”

A small whimper left your lips as he sat down on the couch next to you, gently tugging your body into his. Your hand clutched onto his shirt, the tears still falling from your eyes instantly soaking the material when you pressed your head to his shoulder. 

“Why’d he do this to me, Osc? Was I not good enough for him? What did I do to deserve this?”

Every other word punctuated with a cry or a sniffle prompted a small grimace onto his features. The pit in his stomach grew worse and worse with every word that fell from your mouth, his own heart breaking again as he tried to console you.

“You’re more than good enough for him, I’ve been saying for years you’re too good for him. You didn’t deserve this, at all. He’s a piece of shit,” he said.

His hands continued to rub up and down your exposed arms, your tears subsiding as you melted into his comfort. The grogginess was still prevalent in your head, your eyes puffy, your brain still trying to get a grasp of what was going on; but all you could focus on was the calluses on Oscar’s fingers catching on your skin, the heave of his chest as he cuddled you closer.

He was always the first person there for you, even without having to pick up the phone and ask him to be. For him, you always came first, above racing, above his friends; he would drop everything he was doing and run to you if you asked. He would never admit that, though, ever.

“I wish it was you all those years ago, Osc. You would’ve never done this to me,” you said.

Oscar felt his own heart splitting in two. You were right, he wished it was him all those years ago, too. 

i did NOT know where to go with this one!!!! so angsty and sadness it is!!!!! sorry!!!!

[bambisworlds]

there's a man in the woods (4)

rhysand prequel, part one, part two, part three

azriel doesn't cope well with his mate getting taken from him (3,249 word count).

content warnings, mdni 18+

f!reader, bambi!oc, established relationship, poly!batboys x oc, caregiver!batboys, possessive!batboys, loving!batboys, possessive!azriel, oral (f. receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, brief use of "daddy", use of "good girl", azriel's just obsessed with bambi's scent, let me know if i forgot anything x

my masterlist

Bambi’s agitation with Rhysand faded during her bath, the combination of the comforting warm bubbly water and the scalp massage from scrubbing shampoo made her feel relaxed. Being pampered by three large, muscly, beautiful men never ceased to make her feel warm and fuzzy inside and it eased the lingering anxiety and discomfort from the day. Bambi had a satisfied smile on her face as she laid back in the tub, Cassian watched her with a fond smile as his fingers dipped slightly into the bathwater to graze against her legs. Her peace was disrupted when Azriel abruptly stood from his seat on a stool beside the tub and hastily walked into their joined bedroom.

Bambi sat up in the tub, her expression one of concern, “Az?” She calls after him, preparing to stand in the tub to follow after him but Rhysand stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He had been sitting on the edge of the tub.

“He just needs a moment sweetheart,” Rhysand says gently, his hand massaging her shoulder slightly.

“Why?” Bambi asks with furrowed eyebrows, glancing back at the bathroom doorway, “Is he okay?”

Rhysand’s eyes flicker down to the ends of her wet hair as his fingers begin to twirl one of the strands, “There was a chance he could’ve lost you today. As your mate even the idea of you being hurt is enough to drive him, or either of us mad,” Rhysand says, motioning to Cassian, “Today you were taken from us and hurt. That’s no easy thing for him to cope with, even if you are safe now.”

“He just worries about you. Sometimes too much,” Cassian smiled softly as his fingers danced on the surface of the bath water, but Bambi noticed his eyes didn’t light up like they would for his genuine smiles. It was clear Cassian struggled with worrying too much as well.

“But why would that lead him to leaving the room so quickly?” Bambi asks, still not fully understanding.

Rhysand chuckles slightly and glances over at Cassian briefly before clearing his throat and focusing back on Bambi, “Darling, you’ve been through a lot today. Why don’t we table this discussion for a later day?”

“Why can’t you just tell me now? I feel fine.” she shrugs, too worried about Azriel to drop the subject.

Rhysand grins and leans down to kiss Bambi on the forehead before straightening up again, “Well… when a male feels threatened, or they feel…” Rhysand pauses, trying to find the words.

“Worried,” Cassian answers for him.

“Yes, when a male feels worried about their mate, especially in terms of other males staking any sort of claim on their mate they get… moody. Like today for example, a male had taken you from him.” Rhysand explains.

“This feels different than just moodiness,” Bambi says, her eyebrows furrowed to the point there was a crinkle between them. Rhysand nodded slowly and his mouth twitched.

“In this particular case Azriel’s ‘moodiness’ is fixed by a method you may not be in the headspace for today, especially after everything that happened. That’s why he left. Being near you makes his moodiness worse,” Rhysand tries to explain, a grin tugging at his lips each time he says ‘moodiness’. 

“Can you just speak in plain terms? I don’t get why I would put him in a bad mood,” Bambi says exasperatedly. 

“I don’t know if it’s so much as a bad mood, as it is a possessive one,” Rhysand concludes with a grin.

“Oh,” is all Bambi mutters, realizing where he was going with this. 

“Even though we’ve been mated to you for a while now, it’s still a struggle to handle our baser instincts sometimes,” Cassian smirks and Bambi smiles slightly with her cheeks tinted pink.

“So he’s not moody, he’s horny?” she asks with a suppressed giggle.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Cassian grins, looking at Rhysand with a knowing smile. 

“In what way would you put it?” Bambi asks, resting her forearms on the edge of the tub and leaning closer to Cassian. Cassian subconsciously licks his lips as she leans closer to him.

Cassian opens and closes his mouth for a moment, “Do you remember what it was like when you first came here?” Cassian asks and Bambi nods, “For the first month or so it was mainly just you and Mor here, right?” Bambi nods again, “And why do you think that is?”

Bambi furrows her eyebrows slightly, “I don’t know, I guess so you didn’t overwhelm me.”

“That’s partially why,” Cassian nods, “But the main reason was because we nearly lost our heads when we were around you. Staying in the same house as you where your scent was all over made it even worse. Azriel’s having a relapse of sorts with that problem. That overwhelming desire to claim, protect, and possess is going crazy for him again.” 

“But… Why now? I know I was taken but it’s not like I slept with Tamlin or anything,” Bambi says. Rhysand’s jaw clenched and his grip tightened on the edge of the tub, making the porcelain crack slightly at the mention of her having sex with Tamlin. 

Cassian cleared his throat, “No, no you didn’t. But Tamlin did put his hands on you. And he knows you and Tamlin had a…” Cassian’s body stiffens and he swallows roughly, “Personal relationship before we met you,” he says through gritted teeth, “That can stir up those instincts in us, knowing someone you…” Cassian couldn’t get the words out this time, “Knowing someone like that was touching you and keeping you from us.”

Bambi nods, understanding better this time, “I didn’t realize you still struggled with those sorts of things.”

“Darling those ‘things’ never go away when you’re mated, they may calm from time to time but those instincts never go away.” Rhysand says with an amused smile.

“Why do you think I train at least 3 hours a day?” Cassian chuckles dryly, “If I don’t get that energy out somehow I’ll pummel every male who talks to you.”

Bambi can’t help but smile softly, “I thought all those instincts went away after a few months. Like after we left the House of Wind.” she shrugs. The Bat Boys had practically kept Bambi locked away in the House of Wind for three months after they mated. 

“No, they did not,” Rhysand smirks and brushes a few locks of her hair over her shoulder to get a better view of her body as she lounged in the tub, “And seeing you like this, all bare and vulnerable in the tub, it makes those instincts flare up.” Rhysand inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment, “Not to mention this room is practically drenched in your scent.”

“Should I go check on him?” Bambi asks gently, glancing at the bathroom door.

“That depends on what you’re in the mood for tonight. If you’d rather just take a bath then go to bed I’d leave him be, he’ll come back when he’s ready,” Rhysand says. Bambi nibbles on her bottom lip for a moment before rising to her feet in the tub, both Rhysand and Cassian’s hand instinctively move out to steady her in case she loses balance. 

“Careful baby,” Cassian mumbles as he helps Bambi out of the tub while Rhysand grabbed a heated towel and wrapped it around her.

“I’m gonna check on him,” Bambi says firmly and Rhysand grins.

“Okay baby, go check on him,” he encourages with a chuckle, placing a pat on her butt as she leaves the bathroom. Bambi could faintly hear Cassian snickering as she walked into the bedroom but didn’t pay it any mind. She glanced around for Azriel but he wasn’t there. Her feet padded on the wood floors as she peeked into the hall.

“Az?” she called for him, holding the oversized bath towel around her body. She stopped in front of the open doorway to one of the guest rooms that used to be Azriel’s bedroom. Now they all shared a bedroom. Azriel was standing on the balcony in the dark room. Bambi quietly walked over to him, “Are you okay?” she asks gently as she stands beside him. Azriel’s eyes immediately flicker down to her and the towel wrapped around her. 

“I’m fine,” he says, his wings bristling slightly as he catches a whiff of her natural scent, “You’re going to catch a chill,” Azriel murmurs, ushering her back into the bedroom and closing the balcony door behind them. 

“Why are you in here?” Becca asks, glancing around the dark bedroom. 

Azriel follows her gaze, “It holds fond memories. It brings me peace I suppose.” he says before looking back down at her with a grin, “Why are you in here? I thought you were taking a bath.”

“Because you’re in here,” she says with a soft smile.

Azriel hums in acknowledgement and his eyes slowly scanned her partially covered body from head to toe. “Do you know what my favorite memory of this room is?” he asks huskily.

“No,” Bambi mutters and Azriel takes a step closer to her, he leaned down until his nose brushed against the top of her head before trailing it down and inhaling deeply against her neck.

“It was when I fucked you for the first time,” he says with a low rumble in his chest, stepping even closer until their bodies were pressed firmly together and his breath was hot against her neck, “Right over there on that bed.” he mumbles, tilting his head just enough to glance at the four poster bed in the room, “My sheets smelled like you for days after. I wanted to drown in your scent.” His wings bristled slightly as he spoke. Bambi shivered slightly, not expecting him to be so blunt, “I still do, even after all this time.” he says breathily, nibbling on her neck slightly, “You smell so. Fucking. Good.” he sighs, emphasizing each word he spoke, “But you know what’s even better?” Azriel smirks.

“What?” Bambi whispers, almost forgetting how to form words for a moment.

“You smell like me now too,” Azriel purrs, nipping at her neck again but a little harder this time. “Because you're my mate. And right over there in that bed is where I made you mine.” Bambi’s eyes flutter closed and her hands absentmindedly lifted to grip his shirt. Azriel’s large hands gripped onto Bambi’s sides just above the flare of her hips, “You’re mine now, aren’t you baby?”

“Mhm,” Bambi hums with a nod and Azriel’s grip on her tightens.

“Mhm,” Azriel echoes with a grin as he begins to kiss and nip at her jawline, “You’re mine forever. Which means there’s always gonna be a bit of my scent on you. In your hair, on your clothes, on your neck…” Azriel mumbles against her skin, “In between your legs.” Bambi couldn’t help the shaky breath of air that left her from his words, her grip on his shirt tightening, “That’s my favorite place to leave my scent. And that’s where you smell the best too, baby.” he grumbles as he begins to place open mouthed kisses on her neck. 

“Az,” Bambi breathes, instinctively leaning closer to him. Azriel moans lowly at the sound of his name on her tongue and his grip on her grows near painful. 

“What baby? What do you need?” Azriel rumbles. Bambi could only whimper slightly, nuzzling her face against his chest, “My baby needs me, doesn’t she?” he asks and Bambi nods in response with another needy sound, “I know. I know you do, baby.” he murmurs as his hands sneak down to grip onto the underside of her thighs. He lifted her up and carried her over to the bed. Bambi couldn’t help but smile as he carried her over to the bed and laid her down. Azriel leaned over the bed, still remaining on his feet but bracing his hands on either side of her head as he loomed over her, “What’s the smile for, hm?” he asks with a grin, “You like being treated like a princess?” he teases, “You like being treated like your feet are too precious to touch the ground?” he smiles as he leans down to kiss her. The kiss was languid and unhurried, but their heavy breathing made it clear how much they desired each other. 

Azriel’s hand slipped down to teasingly tug on one of her toes, earning a yelp from Bambi and a chuckle from Azriel. He dipped his head down to suck a mark onto her neck as he gently massaged her foot. Azriel’s lips made their way down Bambi’s collarbone and to the swell of her breasts as his hands skimmed up her body until they rested on her thighs below where the towel sat on her body. His assault of kisses stopped as he bunched up the bottom of the towel to her belly button.

Azriel moaned unabashedly as her cunt came into view. His hand immediately moved, rubbing her clit with his thumb. Bambi moaned sweetly, her legs instinctively spreading wider, “That’s it,” Azriel encourages, “Let me see that pretty little pussy,” he murmurs, his breathing growing heavier as he looked back and forth between her face and where his thumb was busy between her thighs.

Unable to take it any longer, Azriel dropped to his knees between her spread thighs and licked up her cunt with a flattened tongue. His wings twitched rapidly, a physical representation of how turned on he got by tasting her. Azriel’s hands gripped Bambi’s thighs, tugging her further down the bed so her ass dangled off the end while he worked her cunt with his mouth. Azriel moaned in satisfaction, one of his arms sneaking beneath her lower back to lift her hips off the bed so her pussy was more level with his mouth. He pulled away for a moment, his eyes scanning over her intimate areas like one would admire a painting. 

Bambi looked down at him, her own breathing growing ragged. She wanted him to keep going, but she knew Azriel had a fascination with her cunt. He was borderline obsessed with it and often just stared at it when he had the chance. Bambi pouts with a slight wiggle and Azriel finally looks up at her face, “I know baby, I’ll take care of it,” he says as he begins his ministrations again with a groan. His hand that wasn’t against her back haphazardly reached up to tug the towel open all the way and he immediately groped and squeezed at her breasts. His fingers tweaked and pinched one of her nipples, enjoying Bambi’s gasps and slight jerk of her body against his mouth. As Bambi began to squirm too much his hand moved down to press against her pelvis so she stayed where he wanted her.

The sound of Bambi’s shaky whines and mewls spurred him on. Only when she tensed and came with a keening cry did his efforts gentle. He moaned contentedly, sucking on her clit as she spasmed and twitched while his hand rubbed her lower belly soothingly. As her legs fell limp on the bed he rose to his feet and tugged the towel out from under her and tossed it on the floor. Azriel began to strip off his clothes while Bambi basked in her afterglow. Her legs instinctively began to close but Azriel pushed them back open as he stripped off his last piece of clothing, “C’mere baby,” he mumbled as he settled behind her on the bed so he was spooning her. Azriel wrapped his arms around her and nudged one of her legs over his meaty thighs so he had better access to her.

“Guide me inside you sweetheart.” Azriel pants, holding her firmly against his chest. Bambi reaches down to position the head of his cock against her opening and Azriel rolls his hips to inch the head of his cock into her, “Mmh, fuck,” Azriel moans as he eased his cock into her. He dropped his face into the crook of her neck. Bambi whimpered and her leg slipped off of his, “Keep your leg there baby, you want Daddy to get nice and deep in this pussy don’t you?” he asks breathily against her ear and she nods, lifting her leg back over his, “Good girl,” Azriel encourages as he begins to rock his hips. He choked out a moan, holding onto her even tighter. 

Bambi’s eyes fluttered shut and her body melted against his with little moans and mewls. “That’s it, let me do all the work,” Azriel whispered into her ear. “You feel so good,” Azriel practically whimpered as he began to pick up the pace of his thrusts. Bambi’s toes curled with a high pitched cry as he picked up speed.

Bambi nods mindlessly in agreement to his words, her head laying limp against the pillows while she begins to drool slightly onto the pillowcase. Azriel’s cock was hitting every special spot inside her and she didn’t think she could speak if she tried. Azriel’s hand snaked up to cup one of her breasts, using it as leverage as he snapped his hips with increasing urgency. His other hand gripped onto her thigh, lifting her leg higher so he could reach deeper inside her. 

“My perfect mate, my beautiful little girl,” Azriel mumbled and moaned praises into her ear, his thrusts unrelenting, “I love you so fucking much,” Azriel chokes out as her walls began to squeeze around him. Bambi blindly reached behind her to grip onto his hip, her other hand white knuckling the sheets. While keeping her leg lifted, Azriel reached down to rub her clit with his other hand, “C’mon angel, I can feel how close you are.” 

Bambi babbles nonsense slurred with moans, trying to rock her hips in time with his for even more friction. Azriel’s grip tightened on Bambi’s thigh as she neared her peak and began to squirm in his hold. His eyes rolled back with a shaky moan as Bambi came, her body convulsing as she cried out in ecstasy. Azriel’s forehead fell to the back of her head, his mouth falling open with ragged moans as he continued to fuck her through her high. He was near drooling as well as he came, his wings flaring slightly behind him. Azriel’s hand that was gripping her thigh quickly flew down to press against her lower belly as he buried himself to the hilt inside her, his hips jerking as he filled her with his cum. 

After a few moments of nothing but Azriel’s quiet moans and Bambi’s heavy breathing, she reached down to intertwine her fingers with his. Azriel held her hand tightly, his nose nuzzling against the back of her head as he remained inside her. He slipped his other arm beneath her neck to serve as a pillow for her and kept Bambi firmly against him.

“I would do anything for you,” Azriel murmurs in her ear. Bambi was nearly brought to tears from the sincerity in his voice, she could feel his love for her through the bond and it crashed over her like a wave. 

“I love you,” Bambi says with a slight tremor in her voice as she tilted her head to the side. Azriel nuzzled his nose against hers before pouring all of his love for her into a kiss. 

if you have any requests including the people on my masterlist please comment them below any of my posts or in my submissions!! (check here: about my blog  to see what things i'm not comfortable with in regards to requests <3)

[unhingedangstaddict]

WIP WEDNESDAY

I was tagged by the lovely @ladyeyrewrites for WIP Wednesday today and by the amazing @bidisasterevankinard for Tease Tidbit Tuesday yesterday Here is some more of my parent!buck mpreg au. Previous parts can be found here , here and here

Buck took a deep breath, trying to figure out exactly where to start. “Do you remember me telling you that a long time ago you were in my tummy, just like your cousins Jee-Yun and Kevin were in Auntie Maddie’s tummy?”

Olivia nodded. “You said that means someone is pregnant.”

“That’s right.” Buck told her. When Maddie had gotten pregnant with Jee-Yun, Olivia had been too young to question it, but with Kevin, it had been a different story. Buck didn’t want his daughter growing up thinking reproductive health topics were taboo, so he’d explained a lot to her in child friendly terms and phrasing when she started asking questions about the baby in Auntie Maddie’s tummy.

“Is Auntie Maddie having another baby?” Olivia gasped.

“No.” Buck told her. This was it. No going back now. “Auntie Maddie is not pregnant. I am.” Buck admitted, watching his daughter’s face to see her reaction.

Olivia’s eyes widened. “You have a baby in your tummy?” She whispered, clearly quite surprised.

“Yes. It will take a long time for the baby to finish growing, but it will be here just before Christmas.” Buck explained.

(More below the cut)

Olivia looked like her mind was racing, she looked like she was worried or scared but trying to hide it.

Buck hated that look. “Via, honey, can you tell me what you’re thinking about?” Buck asked gently, putting his hand over hers. He’d do whatever necessary to ease her fears, but he needed to know what they were first.

Olivia was silent for a while longer, looking down at her lap. Finally she looked up at her dad with tears in her eyes. “What if you love the new baby more than me? What if you don’t want me anymore?”

“Oh sweetheart,” Buck’s heart broke upon hearing that. He was quick to reach over and grab her, scooping Olivia into his arms and holding her close- tenderness in his pecs be damned. “I promise I want you forever and ever, and I will never love anyone more than I love you.”

Olivia sniffled and held up her small hand near Buck’s big one, pinkie extended. “Pinky promise?” She whispered.

Growing up pinky promises had been sacred between Maddie and Buck, and Buck had carried that on between him and Olivia. They didn’t do very many pinky promises, but when they did it was always very important to them. Buck was quick to wrap his pinkie finger around Olivia’s. “Of course I pinky promise.”

Olivia wrapped her arms around her dad as best she could and held on tight.

Buck kept his arms wrapped around her, and would until she let go. “Olivia, can I ask why you think I wouldn’t want you anymore? You knew that Auntie Maddie and Uncle Chimney still wanted and loved Jee-Yun when Kevin was born.” Buck wondered.

“Because me and the new baby have different dads. You don’t love my other dad. You love Tommy.” Olivia explained.

Buck sighed a little. “You are right about all of that. But just because Tommy is the other dad of this baby, and I love Tommy, doesn’t mean it changes how I feel about you. Not now, not ever. I will always love you, and I will always want you.”

“I love you too daddy.” Olivia said quietly and let go of her dad.

Buck pressed a kiss to Olivia’s head and squeezed her extra tight before letting go. He then reached over and grabbed her ice cream- birthday cake flavor- and offered it to her. “Should eat this before it melts.”

Olivia took the bowl and slowly started eating her ice cream. After eating in silence for a while, Olivia spoke up. “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Not yet. The baby is still too little to tell. We’ll have to wait until they’re bigger to find out.” Buck explained.

“How little is it?” Olivia wondered.

“About the size of a raspberry.” Buck answered and ate a spoonful of his own ice cream- plain vanilla as it was about all he could stomach.

“One raspberry?!” Olivia seemed shocked.

“Yep.” Buck answered, mouth still half-full.

“That’s tiny.” Olivia whispered, mainly to herself. “That’s why your tummy isn’t big yet.” She added, looking at her dad.

Buck chuckled. “That’s right.”

“Your belly’s gonna get big.” Olivia stated very matter-of-factly.

“Yes it is.” Buck agreed with a chuckle.

Olivia ate another spoonful of ice cream before asking, “So when will you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“Sometime in July. If we want to find out. We could also not find out and let it be a surprise when the baby comes.” Buck offered.

Olivia shook her head. “That’s not a good surprise daddy.” She informed him and ate another bite of ice cream.

“Okay.” Buck couldn’t help but laugh. “Then we’ll find out as soon as we can.” Buck promised.

no pressure tags for @quintessenceofdust88 @typicalopposite @agentpeggycartering @30somethingautisticteacher @laundryandtaxesworld @desert--moonchild and whoever else wants to participate!

[little-annie]

Thanks to the @strangerthingswritersguild for the prompt and @eyesofshinigami for the brain worm 🪱 our conversation created.

Did you know in fan fic writing the term Rubber Ducking refers to bouncing ideas off of each other/ brainstorming with friends? Well I didn't. I thought it was a sex thing.

From that, this idea was born.

Rubber Ducking | M | 873 WC | Steddie | Buckingham

It was a cold February night when the first sighting occurred. The air in the apartment had felt different. Charged with an electricity Robin couldn't explain.

Something was happening. And at first she had thought it was an anomaly, then maybe a coincidence. 

But then it kept happening. 

Those black empty eyes met hers and mere hours later the sound of the city was lost to the wails of the night.

It sounded like torture.

Like the stripping of flesh and bones.

But even more horrifically, Robin learned it was anything but.

Sure, there was flesh and bone, but how Steve apparently getting absolutely railed by Eddie in the next room over had any connection to the rubber ducky that ended up on the living room coffee table every so often, Robin hadn't the slightest clue.

She just knew that unfortunately there had to be one.

A few weeks later, sitting at the breakfast bar and trying to ignore the low hanging neckline of Chrissy's already frankly obscene tank top, Robin notices the presence of yet another rubber ducky.

This one donning a Sailor's hat and suit. Similar to the one she remembers her and Steve wearing in their days at Scoops Ahoy. 

Not twenty minutes later she's met with Eddie asking if she knows where Steve hid his old uniform. Regrettably she tells him, and that night goes to bed taking precautionary measures with foam plugs in her ears.

The following week there's a light blue ducky on the coffee table instead, then a grey ducky the week after. Then after a few more weeks there's what appears to be a leather daddy ducky. 

Sometimes in between there's a plain normal rubber ducky.

“You figure it out yet?” Chrissy asks one evening, plopping down onto the couch next to Robin and setting her feet in her lap.

God what she wouldn't do for this girl and her polka dot pink fuzzy socks.

Looking over at the boys who are now apparently disgustingly in love, and currently trading lazy kisses and giggles back and forth in the loveseat, Robin sighs, “Unfortunately.”

She nearly had the code cracked before a drunken Steve had told her what it all meant.

Original Ducky = Someone is horny.

Sailor Ducky (Sir Butterscotch) = Someone wears the Scoops uniform. 

Light Blue (Richard) = Someone wants to give / receive head.

Grey (Bari) = Someone wants to be tied up/do the tying up.

Leather Daddy = "You really don't want to know Robin.”

So essentially flagging, she figures, but with various types of rubber duckys, which is horrific in its own way.

Now when one of them is feeling it, they pick a rubber ducky of their choosing and leave it out on the coffee table as a subtle way of asking for the represented attention.

“Sex Duck,” Robin sighs, leaning her head against the back of the couch, turning to look at Chrissy, “They have a fucking sex duck.”

“Like that show with the sex mug?”

“Like the show with the sex mug.” She answers flatly 

Sure seeing the ducks at home was bad enough, but when they started appearing in the wild it was so much worse.

First in Steve's car on the dash, then Eddie's van, then one day at work when Eddie came sauntering in and pulled a light blue ducky from his pocket, tossing it in Steve's direction before walking off towards the employees only bathroom.

They think they're subtle, but really they're not.

It's just another Tuesday evening when a new ducky makes its way onto the coffee table in the living room. Traditional like the first, but donning a pink bow and black painted on lashes. Feminine. Cute.

Like a game, Robin's began trying to decipher the meaning behind every duck before Steve inevitably tells her. It helps her cope with the trauma. 

This one though, makes her wonder. 

Sitting on the couch staring probably a little too intensely at the newest addition to the boys collection, Robin hardly notices when Steve plops down beside her.

She startles when she notices him, his voice catching her off guard. “Whatcha doing?”

“Trying to figure out what kink of yours this little lady represents.”

Steve hums and Eddie joins them shortly after, settling in the rocking chair across from them, giving the ducky the same odd look Robin had been moments ago.

“Whatcha doing, Buck?”

She gestures to the duck, “Figuring out her deal.”

Feminization maybe?

“Chrissy?” Eddie asks

“What?” Robin looks up from those cute long lashed eyes, “No. Your duck.”

Next to her Steve huffs a laugh, crossing his arms and leaning back against the couch. “Not our ducky, Rob.”

What?

“Course it is.”

“Not our ducky, Babe.” Eddie repeats Steve's words.

It has to be. “Well it's not mine.” Robin grumbles.

“No, no Rob it's not.” Steve nudges Robin's knee with his, “Maybe it's meant for you though.”

No.

No?

Looking far too excited, Eddie smirks, “Chris is in her room isn't she?”

Well… it… it wouldn't hurt to check would it? Maybe the boys are just teasing her, playing a game. But on the off chance they're not…

“You gonna go get your girl, Rob?”

Jesus Christ, she's going to, isn't she?

[emdoesstufff]

I made aesthetic boards and Headcanons of the Weasley grandchildren for a fic I'll be posting soon.

The top left picture is a young kid photo, the bottom right is a teenage photo, and the middle is a current/older one.

(In age order)

Edward "Teddy" Remus Lupin ((24) at main time of fic)-

-Born April 23rd, 1998

-Molly and Arthur have always considered him their first grandkid

-From ages 11 to 16 he experimented with all kinds of hair colors, never being able to settle on just one

-When he's 17 he finally settles on his classic blue hair and rocks that till he's about 21, when he goes to plain brown hair and his natural features. A little self-discovery later and he's back at his classic blue

-Despite inheriting the metamorphagus trait, he's also got several wolf qualities

-He can tell you if the milk is expired when you open the fridge by the scent, he can tell who's entering the house from upstairs by the way he hears them walking, and when he doesn't have his wand he'll probably start biting and scratching as an attack, and he does some pretty good damage

-He has a long term girlfriend named Izzy (I'm not a tedoire fan, they're cousins in this) and no one's quite sure how long they've been dating because no one knows when they went from being best friends to dating, you can't tell

-In school he had two other best friends besides Izzy, Todd and Connor. Izzy and Todd are in Gryffindor (they're also cousins) and Teddy and Connor are Hufflepuffs

-There was an attack when he was 14 (will be explained in the fic) and he didn't have his wand, so he had no choice but to go a little feral on them and he ended up killing one of them like that

-He considers James, Al, and Lily his siblings.

-He played quidditch for most of his school years, seeker, and wore the number 4

-When he starts to get older, his family and friends start to call him just Ted more. Izzy is the only one who still always calls him Teddy

-He can play the guitar

-He's never been very muscular or lean, but he's like 6'4

Victoire Gabrielle Weasley (22)- Bill and Fleur's daughter

-Born May 2nd, 2000

-She was always very focused on being pretty and proper as a child, but in her late teen years she stopped caring so much

-Fleur wanted her to attend Beaxbatons when she started school, but she transferred to Hogwarts for her fourth year and was sorted into Ravenclaw

-She was made prefect her fifth year and head girl her seventh year

-She loved living near the beach and would often read books in the sand

-She loves cooking and she's good at it, her idea of a simple meal is equivalent to a gourmet meal

-In her fifth year she starts to develop a crush on Teddy's friend Todd, a seventh year at the time. She always begs her cousin to get him to talk to her

-Her and Todd start dating in her seventh year. When things start getting bad with the war again, they decide to get married with their family while they still can.

Molly Sienna Weasley II (22)- Percy and Audrey's daughter

-Born August 5th, 2000

-She was very close to her grandmother as a child and they liked to talk about flowers with each other

-Christmas is her absolute favorite time of year and she always makes everyone go all out for it

-She was sorted into Gryffindor, but she has always preferred green more then red

-She played quidditch her 2nd, 3rd, and 4th years, but quit to focus on school

-She loves being at the burrow and she would sit around in the nearby fields during the summers off listen to music

-She has a "best friend" (they're in love with each other but don't know it) named Lilah. They've been friends since they met on the train before their first year.

-Lilah helped her cut her bangs when she was 17 and she's had then ever since

-She's very close with Victoire because of closer in age they are. They bond over their shared love of solitude time

Dominique Apolline Weasley (20)- second daughter of Bill and Fleur

-Born February 14th, 2002

-She's always been very tall, reaching 5'8 by them time she was 13

-Everyone almost exclusively calls her Dom

-She only attended Beaxbatons for one year before going to Hogwarts with Victoire

-She was pleasantly surprised when she was sorted into Gryffindor, expecting to go the same path as her sister

-She only picked up quidditch after Molly quit, taking her number, 5

-Teddy taught her how to play the guitar when she was 15

-She likes to speak French more than English

-She came out as Bi when she was 16 and Bill bought a shirt that said ally dad

-She got closer with Vic and Molly in her late teens and they are inseparable now

-She started dating a Slytherin boy, Jake Thomas when she was 17 and they get married when they were 19

Roxanne Alicia Weasley (20)- George and Angelina's daughter

-Born January 19th, 2002

-The first Weasley to be sorted into Slytherin, it was a shock at first, but everyone accepted it pretty quickly

-She worked at Wizard Wheezes every summer before she graduated and now full time. She plans to run the place one day

-People always ask if her and Freddie are twins and are surprised when she tells them that she's two years older

-They are also surprised when they're told they still have the same birthday

-She's never been close with any of her cousins and really only hangs out with Freddie

-Her dad is the only one who calls her Roxy

-She's never been interested in any romance and plans on never getting married

-She was shocked when Dom asked her to be her maid of honor, but she took the job incredibly seriously and broke down crying during the ceremony

-Her and Dom have become closer in the past year because of that

Frederick "Freddie" Gideon Weasley (18)- George and Angelina's son

-Born January 19th, 2004

-Everyone thinks it is absolutely hilarious that Roxanne and Freddie are born on the same day

-So it shouldn't have been a surprise too anyone when they basically acted like they were twins

-Since their family had already had a Fred, he decided to exclusively go by Freddie

-The third Weasley grandchild to go to Gryffindor

-He was pretty quiet in school, but would get in trouble sometimes because he hung out with Lorcan, Lysander, and James

-He also started working at Wizard Wheezes and hopes to co-own it with Roxanne

-He was the first grandchild to insist on joining the order when it was reformed

-Proudly fights whenever he can

James Sirius Potter II (18)- Harry and Ginny's son

-Born June 4th, 2004

-Harry and Ginny believe they set themselves up for failure by naming him James Sirius because he definitely takes after his namesakes

-Also sorted into Gryffindor at the surprise of nobody

-He's wanted to become a professional quidditch player since he can remember attending his mother's matches, so he makes his whole life about quidditch

-Izzy is the Gryffindor quidditch captain his first year and he gets a chaser position the same year

-There hasn't been more quidditch drive since Oliver Wood

-He fell in love with a girl named Alice when he was 15 and only got her to go out with him once they graduated

-THE ADHD child

-He's best friends with Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, Hufflepuffs, who are in his year

-He loves his siblings so much and is protective of all of them

Louis Arthur Weasley (18)- Bill and Fleur's son

-Born August 6th, 2004

-Victoire was so proud when her younger brother was sorted into Ravenclaw

-Made it clear that he was never interested in quidditch and would rather stay inside and play video games

-Fleur always dressed him very prim and proper and he continued to do that even when he grew up

-He does wear Nikes with a suit though

-He's very proud of his curls and takes care of them perfectly

-He was captain of the chess team all of his Hogwarts years, which pissed Rose off

-He loves spells and always has a spellbook on him

-Blue is his favorite color and he makes everything in his life that

-Dreams of becoming a healer and spent a lot of time with Madam Pomfrey in school

-He got a internship at St. Mungos two weeks ago and has never been more exhausted in his life

Lucille "Lucy" Abigail Weasley (17)- Percy and Audrey's second daughter

-Born April 22nd, 2005

-Everyone was expecting her to be in Gryffindor like the majority of her older cousins, but were so proud when she was placed on Hufflepuff

-She's always loved any kind of art, but she favorites her pastel crayons.

-She also has a camera and takes pictures of anything and everything

-She's very loudly and openly gay, she came out when she was 12

-George made fun of Percy when she came out, telling him he was too stuck up for his gay daughter. He went to Bill after that to figure out where he could get an ally dad shirt

-She gets so frustrated about Molly and Lilah. She's told Molly that she's gay so many times, but Molly always just laughs it off

-She only picked up quidditch in her seventh year and she took over Teddy's number 4

-Even though Molly's onliviousness annoys her, she is very close with her. They both love flowers and they taught themselves to embroider so they can put flowers on everything

Albus "Al" Severus Potter (16)- Harry and Ginny's second son

-Born August 27th, 2006

-He was always incredibly shy and often just hid behind his mother

-That made it a shock when he was sorted into Slytherin, everyone expected Hufflepuff

-The day after he was sorted, he already had a letter from Roxanne, telling him that she knew it was hard to be one of the only Slytherins in the family, but that she was there for him. That made being in Slytherin a lot easier for him.

-He was always best friends with Rose, but when they got to Hogwarts they let Thomas Lovegood and Frank Longbottom II, Ravenclaws, into their friendgroup (I'll probably do stuff for these characters too since they're pretty important)

-He loves music and has a huge record collection with almost any artist you can think of

-When the war started getting bad in his fifth year, he started back up the D.A., it was less about teaching and more about fighting now though

-He loves Teddy, James, and Lily so much and he considers them some of his closest friends

-He didn't wear glasses for most of his life, but the summer after his sixth year, Ginny started noticing that he was running into things, so she took him to an eye doctor and he went into his seventh year with glasses

-He loves to learn knew spells and he can almost always be seen with a spellbook in his hands

-He's a bit of a coward, so any time there's some sort of fight his first response is to run

-He's not too worried about finding love, sure it'll happen on its own one day. He likes to help his cousins and friends in their relationships though

-He actually hates quidditch, but he'd never tell anyone of his family that, knowing how much they love it

Rose Billie Granger-Weasley (16)- Ron and Hermione's daughter

-Born October 26th, 2006

-She looks so much like her mother, but she definitely takes after her father

-She loves sweets and is always first in line at Honeydukes when there's a new thing to try

-Victoire always makes her be the taste tester on everything she makes, and Rose has a very refined pallette because of it

-Her socks are constantly mismatched, other than that she's very fashionable

-Her dad taught her how to play wizards chess when she was really little and she joined the club at school the first week she was there

-She was super mad that Louis was captain for as long as he was though

-She's in Gryffindor, in true Weasley fashion

-She's never considered herself smart, just enough to get by. She's very thankful that Hugo and Al are though.

-Al is her best friend in the world and she was the first to join the D.A. after he started it up again

-She takes care of Hugo ferociously and it's pretty hard for her to accept that he's growing up now

Hugo Gene Granger-Weasley (15)- Ron and Hermione's son

-Born September 15th, 2007

-He's always had severe baby face, looking much younger than he is

-He's been super attached to Crookshanks since the moment he was born

-He inherited his mother's smarts and started reading by the time he was 4

-Louis insisted that he would be in Ravenclaw and Dom made fun of him when Hugo was put on Gryffindor

-He loves a sweater vest

-He didn't start playing quidditch until his second year, when James needed him to play keeper for him. They learned that he was extremely talented and they're currently training him to go professional.

-He didn't really have any friends until he started playing quidditch, where he started hanging out with the players on his and the other teams.

-He's closest with Ella Chang, the seeker for the Ravenclaw team

-Everyone is sure they will be dating at some point

-He was the reason the Weasley is our king chant got started again and he proudly wears the crown pin on his quidditch robes

-He excells in all of his classes and Ella thinks he's wasting his talents by going pro

-He loves his sister and spends a great deal of his time with her

Lily Luna Potter (14)- Harry and Ginny's daughter

-Born September 1st, 2008

-She's an exact copy of her mother, in looks and personality

-The youngest Weasley kid, also sorted into Gryffindor

-She isn’t particularly talented in academics, but she gets by just fine

-She loves listening to music with Al and she exactly where all of her favorite songs are on his records

-She knows she's bisexual, but wasn't told anyone yet

-She loves charms class and learning new spells. She always goes to Louis to learn new ones.

-She hasn't picked up quidditch yet, but has been considering it for a while now

-Her mom started putting her hair in braids and she absolutely loves it

-She's close with all of her siblings, but Teddy is secretly her favorite. He's so much older than her so he feels really cool to her.

[h2llish]

ミ ˖ ✧ from the beginning

notes ─── happy birthday lil bro @nervo-cat ! mwah mwah. finished this two months early. don't you just love me. (i was excited)

ELLIOTT ─ pining for something more.

warnings! fluff, male reader, mutual pining, lowercase intended

moving to stardew valley ─ you hadn't expected a lot of things. the state your grandfather's farm was in, the difficulty that came with farming, the monsters that lived in the mines, the junimos that gathered in the old community center ─ so many things were new, unexpected, odd.

moving off to a small town to immediately start up a farm that once belonged to your grandfather ─ a farm that hadn't been touched in quite some time ─ was a bit of an impulsive decision, you knew that. but your grandfather had paved as much of a path as he could on his deathbed so that settling in to your ─ soon-to-be ─ normal (when if you chose to accept) would be at least, a bit, easier on you.

but despite you having only known the city and a boring desk job, you hadn't expected the change to be so bold. perhaps that was naivety or just plain excitement on your part, but you truly didn't realize that the change from city to small town was going to be such an experience. (a good or bad one, you were still trying to decide). ─ and although your mother did warn you, you had been quick to brush her off with the response; if your grandfather could do it, so could you! but you really should've heeded her warning more, and prepared yourself, well, more (mentally ─ in terms of objective preparedness, you were quite fine).

you struggled at first, finding it difficult to adjust to farming as a new way of earning money, so different from sitting at a desk and typing into a computer. but eventually, you found yourself enjoying, not only your new way of life, but the town itself and the people there too.

the unexpectedness of it all became welcome ─ you'd found yourself making friends with the people in the valley, joining in traditions, and sharing meals with people occasionally. (you'd even found yourself with a cat who loved napping near the barn, and enjoyed chin scratches every morning before you went off to do your errands.)

another thing that was so unexpected about your new life, was the aspiring writer living in a small cabin on the beach. ─ elliott was kind and welcoming, he became a person you aimed to befriend quickly. you'd learned a lot about him over time; how he used duck feathers to make new quills, and he liked to comb the beach for new objects, and he loved crab cakes and pomegranates.

the closer you became with elliott, the more you enjoyed his presence. you'd give him gifts; pomegranates from your trees in the fall, and beach finds you'd discover under the sand, or crab cakes you made just for him because you knew he loved them. you'd created a new stop to your errand runs into town, making a point to visit the beach to see elliott, or run into him just before he left his cabin to say hello and maybe make short conversation.

before you knew it, he was a part of your routine, and anytime you missed a moment with him or you were too busy to make a quick stop at the beach to wave hello, your day would feel odd ─ or rather, not complete would be a better way to explain it.

you like to think (or maybe hope) that perhaps elliott felt the same way. that maybe his day wouldn't feel quite the same if you didn't make that regular visit throughout the day to see him, to say hi or give him a new gift. that perhaps he might look forward to seeing you as much as you looked forward to seeing him

"thank you for completing my request, [name]." lewis said as he handed you the bag of gold. you smiled, only half-listening to him as he went on some rant about the slimes in the mines and a pair of his pants being ruined.

you pulled off the bag on your shoulder to drop the gold into, but as you did, you caught sight of the duck feather safely tucked to the side, and you were reminded of your failed trip to elliott this morning. you'd found yourself so busy that the feather in your bag was pushed to the back of your mind.

you noted the time of day, and decided that elliott was probably at the beach, walking along the pier or getting ready to turn in for the night.

"well," you said, finally tuning back in to the mayor's rambling, and cutting him off, "i have to get going, bye, lewis."

"right, have a good night, then!"

you waved a lazy hand as you closed the door behind you, skipping a few steps as you quickly started on the path to the beach.

elliott was on his way back to the cabin for the night, already halfway into the door as you stepped onto the beach to find him.

"elliott!" you called, and the writer paused, turning to you as you smiled at him, stopping just before the door. "hi."

he returned your smile with that familiar gentle turn of his lips that you so enjoyed seeing, "hello, [name]."

you quickly turned to your bag, pulling out the feather still in as much of a good shape as it could be placed in your bag. you held it out for him with a bit of sheepish smile, "for you," elliott took the feather carefully, examining it as you explained, "i meant to give it to you earlier but i was pretty busy."

"i did see you running around in a hurry," he hummed, chuckling softly, "thank you, this would make for a lovely quill." he stepped back into the cabin, and you clutched your strap of your bag, wishing you could've talked longer (and you curse how busy you were, but you suppose it was also your own fault, for forgetting about the feather).

"goodnight, [name]."

"oh, yeah, goodnight," you quickly replied, adding just before he could close the door, "see you tomorrow."

he paused again, and smiled, and maybe you were imagining, the way his face flustered, but you had no time to think about that as he returned your words, a giddy feeling rising in your chest. "see you tomorrow."

you realize your attention and feelings towards elliott might not have been so discreet as the letter sitting in your mailbox gave way.

a bouquet to elliott? to become something more than just friends, more than just someone you gave gifts to and visited every day because he was someone you always thought about. ─ would elliott accept it? would he return your feelings and accept becoming more than what you were.

you suppose to know the answer to that would be to give him the bouquet.

you don't quite know what the perfect time would be ─ that morning after a visit to the general store, or when you stopped by during the night before you head back to the farm. or maybe when you ran into him during your errands, as you often did. ─ overthinking would get you nowhere, you knew that. but given the topic for the reason of your anxious second thoughts, you think you should be given a pass just this once.

buying the bouquet was the (you hope) beginning to something more, and the interactions it gained as you made your way to the beach was both helpful in giving you confidence, while adding more anxiety to your plate.

upon reaching the beach, you seen him on the pier, in conversation with willy. he didn't see you, his back turned your way, and you were thankful for that as you mustered up the courage to approach him.

it was willy who seen you first, his face shown surprise, before he excused himself from his conversation with elliott. you didn't hear whatever excuse or reason he might've given the writer before he walked off to give you privacy, far too focused on what you were going to say.

"elliott," you said, and the blond man turned to you, he looked ready to greet you, but he remained silent as he noticed the bouquet in your hands. at his stunned expression, you cleared your throat, and held out the flowers, "would you..?" you didn't finish your question, finding it difficult to say anything. you weren't even sure what you were going to say; forgetting everything you'd planned in your head now that you're faced with him. ─ ah, well, way to go [name].

"i didn't know you felt the same." ─ well, maybe you didn't just ruin it. ─ you looked up at him as he took the bouquet from your hands, his face flushed pink as held the flowers to his chest. you were stunned for a moment unable to say anything more. "i feel the same way, i want to get more serious with you too."

with restraint, you tried not to show your excitement through yells and jumps as you grinned at him. ─ you think your experience in the valley has gotten even better.

your relationship with elliott sometimes felt surreal. ─ because now it wasn't just visits to his cabin and gifts you knew he'd enjoy; it was more. you remember all the nights at your home, when he'd stay with you, and you'd talk about your days or his new ideas for books. sometimes he'd lean against you, and you'd sit in front of the fire with a book between you as he read to you.

it was a life you'd wanted to make forever; you think.

and maybe the universe heard that wish as it came to you in the form of a letter and a tradition of a mermaid's pendant.

you don't know what led you to the beach as the rain poured down on your head and soaked you through your clothes. you were all too aware of the way your clothes stuck to you and the way your boots sunk into the sand with an unsatisfying noise. you realized this might come back to bite you, and you may just end up getting sick, but that was a thought hovering in the back of your mind as you crossed the plank bridge, you'd built yourself.

you were glad elliott was back at your house, waiting for you to come back after you'd given a half-thought-out excuse of needing to run a final errand before you could join him for the night in your routine of reading by the fire.

there a man stood, dressed in old clothing; he hardly seemed bothered by the rain that pelted down (he hardly seemed touched by it at all). your bag of gold in hand, and you don't why, but something told you to approach him. you remember him, standing in that same spot as when you stumbled across him one rainy day. he talked of an old amulet he had, that he didn't think you were ready for.

you are now, you think, if the amulet is what you're looking for, and you hope he agrees.

and he does, with five thousand gold lesser in your pocket, you held the pendant with a care and admiration in your eyes. would elliott accept it? you certainly hope so.

the rain hardly bothered you as much as it did when you left the house, now with a feeling of excitement and a little anxiousness in your chest. you don't know when you'll ask ─ but you hope it would be during a time most perfect for the both of you.

when you reached the door to your house, you hid the pendant behind your back, deciding you'd place it safely in your nightstand where he wouldn't see it. ─ although you didn't exactly plan for the moment you stepped inside, and elliott was there to meet you, worrying over the way you were soaked to the bone.

"you rushed out so quickly i didn't have time to give you a coat!" he sighed, while you remained at the door with your hands behind your back and soaking the entrance mat.

you smiled almost sheepish as he wrapped a towel around your shoulders, "sorry, it was important."

"so important, you'd risk getting sick?" he asked, drying off your hair with such care, frowning and rambling about you being impulsive.

"yes." you answered, perhaps a bit too quickly as he paused, and the pendant felt heavier in your hand as he continued to look at you with that worried expression. "it was, really important."

"i can understand if it was important but you need to be more careful!" he scolded, "what if you get sick? you really worried me, running out into the rain like that, without a coat and..."

he was right about you being impulsive, as the plan for such perfect timing was lost to you when you held out the pendant and he trailed off in his words.

drenched from the rain, and shrugging off the chill that ran over your skin, a towel on your head, you realize you probably could've waited a little longer. but the way he worried over you only made you more aware of the pendant you hid behind you and the plans you'd been making in your head for how you were going to propose to him became lost.

"i'm sorry, for worrying you," you said, "but it was really important that i get this. you mean a lot to me, and i probably could've planned this better, but," ─ you smiled, a little awkward and trying not to shiver under the feeling of cold and wet clothes sticking to your skin. "would you..?"

words became lost to you after that as elliott took the pendant from you. his smile was wide, and he was visibly flustered, "i accept."

you would've hugged him, but you were made aware of your state when you shivered and sneezed.

elliott chuckled, and sighed, "maybe you should get out of these wet clothes."

"yeah," you cringed, smile almost embarrassed. (ah, well, you brought this on yourself.)

your actions had consequences, as you woke the next morning with a cold. but you don't regret anything, not when your boyfriend, your fiancé, wore the pendant around his neck as he decided he'd help you get back to better health, with promises to check on the animals in the barn and coop so you didn't worry (and you think you can used to this).

you hadn't expected for things to go the way they did when you moved to the valley ─ to find a routine in the writer who lived in a cabin on a beach. to call him your lover when you were told of the bouquet in a letter. and to run out into the rain so that the writer could lay beside you with a book in hand and a pretty pendant that showed the start of something more to your life in the valley.

but regardless, you held no complaints to it all.

do not repost, translate, copy or run my writing through ai

[imtrashraccoon]

If it's ok can you do a don't imagine with Dr Baggs from the megalosomnia au :3

Oh. Why yes, I would love to write for our favourite doctor! :3

Don't imagine falling, whether by accident or not, into the Underground. How you're badly injured from the fall and are soon captured. How you don't know what's going on but are helpless to resist.

Don't imagine drifting in and out of consciousness for several days, although you aren't sure how much time really passed. How you remember seeing glimpses of a white lab coat, the strong scent of disinfectant, and the sound of distant machines. How afraid you are when you finally do wake up in a strange room that's reminiscent of a cell.

Don't imagine how your heart skips a beat when you hear footsteps approaching and the door opens. How you're more than a little terrified when you see the skeleton in a lab coat that would make any mad scientist jealous. How he raises a bonebrow but gives you a moment to calm down before approaching you.

Don't imagine how he introduces himself and how personable he comes across. How he explains in plain terms the extent of your injuries and that you're now trapped in the Underground with his people. How he's quick to reassure you that you're recovering nicely and that he'll do his best to make sure you make a full recovery.

Don't imagine how you decide to be brave and trust him. How he seems to be telling the truth and you can't exactly leave anyways. How you soon start to notice that something is...off. How tight-lipped Dr. Baggs is about the lab and much of the Underground. How you can hear strange noises from outside your room and how he ignores you whenever you ask about them.

Don't imagine insisting that he tell you the truth about what's going on. How you all but break down and express that you just want to go home. How you're confused and constantly anxious no matter his efforts to make you as comfortable as possible.

Don't imagine the pained look he gives you. How he seems conflicted at first. How he agrees with you that this isn't right and apologizes for not being forthright. How you're surprised that he's not putting up a fight about this.

Don't imagine how he hesitates for a moment before smiling at you. How he moves closer and places a hand on your shoulder. How you open your mouth to ask what he's doing but never get that far. How his magenta eyelight suddenly expands into a swirling vortex. How you feel an unsettling calmness blanket your mind.

Don't imagine how he gently pulls you into a hug. How his voice seems to echo in your head as he reassures you that everything will be alright. Definitely don't imagine him stroking your shoulders absentmindedly. How he promises that he's got everything under control. How you feel like you shouldn't believe him but can't remember why. How you soon give in to him and the blissful ignorance that he offers. How you barely spare a thought as to why you were afraid in the first place.

First, Previous, & Next Request

[lets-try-some-writing]

I have been reading your review of Transformers One again and also looking back at the movie, which gives me this hot potato take:

Orion Pax weirdly feels like a Gary Stu, not because he was overpower and flawless (which I know there are no solid definitions of the term Mary Sue/Gary Stu and I don't think he's one). It's just that his characteristics felt too convenient to the plot as the writers just slap all the likable traits of a typical heroic character and just called it's a day without further exploration. They tried to go for the angle of a normal bot, average Joe from lower classes that get thrust into adventure and great destiny. But nothing about him is normal, even though he was supposed to be an insignificant miner. He was already special in the movie, with his tendency to break protocols and his obsession to find Matrix and be something more, and as you mentioned in your review, we simply don't know why he adamant about finding the Matrix. Would it be better that we showed a hint of Orion Pax not trusting Sentinel actually finding the Matrix in his expedition and felt out of place for being the only one who's skeptical of Sentinel??? And his trust issues with Sentinel could come from all his times sneaking and reading the history of Cybertron and noticing the hole in those records??? This would have made him very compelling and interesting, and also explained why he was so calm and level-head about Sentinel's lie and betrayals compared to other characters. Yeah sure the movie "showed us" Orion Pax's good and heroic traits to hint at his worth for the Prime title later, but uhm, it feels like the movie told us about his traits instead and expect us to roll with his characteristics as his scenes didn't convey these traits well enough or quite lacking.

And for a character supposed to be the main protagonist, he felt more like a deuteragonist supporting D-16/Megatron, which resulted in him being that hero who was just there to make the main villain more compelling and interesting.

I did like TF:O Orion Pax in my first round but after sometimes, I realized I simply like him because I projected a much-better written protagonist with similar traits into Orion Pax and made way him more interesting than he's actually is.

Aside from my issues with Orion Pax, Elita-1 is simply a plot device character, and I just don't get her personality/characteristics at all. She also didn't have any arc and her interactions with other characters, especially with Orion Pax when they were on the surface felt very artificial to me. And she's fake girlboss because nowhere in the movie showed that she's better than anyone, especially Orion Pax.

This is just my longest ramblings about my issues with the movie that barely evoked any emotions for me.

No no you are absolutely cooking with this.

TFO Orion IS a Gary Sue. He has no proper emotional base in order to establish his goals and opinions on things. His background is plain but lacks the hint or originality needed to give him the spark to act out of line, at least in a believable manner. His behavior is selfish, and yet he is proclaimed a hero by the end of the film without his arc having been completed. Orion can absolutely be selfish and foolish in the beginning, but if we are going to herald him as a saint, he needed to have had more development. As it stands, Orion was made God's favorite because... reasons. (Alpha Trion why didn't you guide our main cast while you had the chance????)

I 100000% agree with you on your assessment of Elita. She's there for the sake of sending a poorly written message and that is all. No growth, no real origin, no backstory, no properly established relationships. She's there to kick around a few future Decepticons and make everyone else look like fools. She needed so much more to be excellent, and I am legitimately sad that she didn't get the arc she needed to be a respectable character.

It seems we are on the same page anon.

[camaelias]

Sunny Winter Day

CHAPTER 1: The Man Across the Hall

CHAPTER 2 - The Winter Soldier

CHAPTER 3 - Whispers in the wall

CHAPTER 4 - Black Coffee and Cookie

Pairing : Grumpy Winter Soldier x Sunshine Reader

Tags : enemies to lovers, angst, slow burn

PLOT : you get really drunk and bucky really pissed

Author's note : okay this chapter is REALLY long but it was so fun to write! oh well, enjoy

CHAPTER 5 : Ambient Empathy

The party wasn’t your idea.

In fact, it sounded terrible when Natasha first brought it up over lunch: something about morale, birthdays, and how Tony had a new whiskey he needed everyone to taste immediately or he’d combust from lack of attention

“We haven’t had a proper hangout in weeks,” Nat had said, her fork twirling through a sad-looking salad “And I’m not talking about a ‘let’s all sit in a conference room and trauma-dump’ kind of bonding. Actual fun, dumb fun!”

You'd hummed in agreement, half-distracted by the folder in your lap, nodding at all the right moments “And,” she added, eyes narrowing, “you’re coming”

You blinked “I never said I wouldn’t”

“You didn’t say you would either” Her tone was calm, but knowing “No excuses, you’ll even wear something nice, I’ll make sure of it”

--

That night the Compound felt like something out of a memory you didn’t have: warm lights strung up across the ceiling, jazz weaving into synth-pop, tables pushed to the corners so there was space to laugh and spill drinks and maybe dance if anyone was brave enough. Someone lit candles in old mason jars... the whole thing looked like a Pinterest board accidentally exploded in a highly classified government facility.

You were wearing a dress : dark cherry red, simple, fitted through the ribs, soft on your skin, comfortable enough to move in. Natasha approved. Your hair was down and your hands only shimmered faintly gold at the tips when you first walked in, nervous energy sparking as you scanned the room.

He stood near the back, shoulder half-propped against a column, dark jacket over plain clothes. His sleeves were long, cuffed once. Gloved hands relaxed at his sides. He didn’t have a drink, just a careful kind of stillness to him, like someone watching a room for danger that wasn’t there. He saw you almost immediately, his eyes tracked you across the room like a reflex.

You didn’t look away this time, just smiled. He didn’t smile back, not exactly, but the corners of his eyes softened, and he dipped his head a fraction like yeah, I see you too.

Fifteen minutes in, you were already holding two drinks you didn’t ask for (Tony), in the middle of a story you didn’t fully remember starting (Clint), while Bruce quietly explained to someone how your aura trick worked-“She doesn’t read minds, she reads energy... It’s instinctual, not cognitive, like… ambient empathy”

You rolled your eyes and made a mental note to talk to him about the term ambient empathy later.

The party was in full swing now-Steve was losing a bet to Nat over some 90s pop trivia, Clint was trying to play beer pong off the edge of the balcony (“It’s a challenge round!”) and someone had already spiked the fruit punch. You were laughing, actually laughing, when James reappeared beside you. You hadn’t seen him approach but there he was, eyes on you, something different in his face. Curiosity. Focus. A small frown pulling at the corner of his mouth like he didn’t realise he was doing it

“You okay?” you asked, half-turning toward him

“You glow more when you’re happy,” he said, low voice

Your chocked on your drink “That’s not creepy at all”

His brow twitched, “Didn’t mean it like that”

You tilted your head, “How did you mean it, then?”

He looked at you like he was trying to understand, not just observe, then he chuckled half amused half exasperated as he shook his head

“You’re different when you’re like this,” he said eventually

“Like what?” he gave you a side look before answering

“Unarmed”

“I am always armed,” you said, wiggling your fingers so they sparked faintly gold “Just selectively threatening”

That made something flicker behind his eyes. He chuckled again.

“Besides,” you added, bumping your shoulder lightly into his, “you’re one to talk. You’ve been standing there like you’re guarding a vault”

“I am guarding a vault,” he said too quickly, then he nodded toward Tony across the room “That man had 8 drinks and no filter”

You snorted “Okay, fair, but you haven’t even had one, a drink I mean” He flashed you a small smile, his eyes locked in yours

"I was just waiting for the right company"

Before you could respond, Tony’s voice rang out across the room

“Is that Barnes socialising? Somebody mark the calendar. Take a picture. Frame it. Start a shrine”

You turned, hand instinctively grabbing James’ sleeve, like you could shield him from the attention

He didn’t flinch

Just leaned a little closer and muttered, “Tell me he’s not coming over here”

“He’s absolutely coming over here”

“Cool,” James muttered “Love that for me”

And then, yep. Tony Stark.

“Barnes,” he grinned “Looking downright festive; is that a brooding pose or do you need to be rebooted?”

You opened your mouth to intervene, but James cut in first : “Tony”

One word

Flat

It shut Stark up for a whole two seconds, then he turned to you

“So, what did Steve and I told you about boyfriends young lady? and you are distracting our very much needed head of security to make it worse?" he took a sip of his drinks and looked at you behind the dark lenses of the party sun glasses that were slipping lazily on the bridge of his nose "You are a bad influence Sunshine"

“I prefer glowing influence,” you said sweetly

“She’s like a heat lamp for emotionally stunted ex soldiers” Clint chimed in from somewhere behind the bar

“Thanks, Clint,” you called back “So nice when you contribute”

“I contribute truth,” he replied holding up his drink

Natasha passed behind you and leaned in just long enough to murmur, “You’re doing great, he hasn’t bolted once”

“Good sign,” you whispered back

You glanced at James -who still hadn’t moved- and decided to push your luck

“Do you dance?” you asked, looking up at him with mock innocence

He raised an eyebrow “No”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes”

“That sounded like a maybe”

“I was trained in knife work, not foxtrots”

You shrugged “That’s just stab-dancing”

He blinked

And then, finally -finally -he huffed a laugh. Just a small one, but it was real. You caught it like a firefly and stored it away for later

“I’m not dancing,” he said, but his voice had warmed at the edges

“Okay then, it's drink-pong duel time then, loser has to sing karaoke” Said Clint as he passed by you two

James looked at you as if he was asking for help

“Absolutely not”

Clint was already dragging a folding table into place

“Too late, Barnes, you’re in the ring now”

“I’m not singing”

“Then win,” you said, flashing him a grin. A beat passed.

Then James rolled his eyes “You’re insufferable”

“Yet you’re still standing here mr James Buchanan Barnes”

Another pause. His gaze flicked down to your hand - your fingers glowing faintly again, not from nerves this time, but from something else. A quiet kind of joy

“You can call me Bucky”

You blinked at him. Not shocked, just… surprised

“Yeah?” you smiled bright

He gave you a nod

“Well, alright then,” you said cracking a grin “Welcome to the losing team, Bucky”

His brows knit “We’re teammates?”

Clint, already halfway through setting up the table, raised a hand “Drafted. Sorry. I called dibs on Nat, you two are the leftovers”

Michael, the SHIELD agent that you usually spar with, handed you both red solo cups like it was a relay race “Rules are simple: two cups each, alternating throws. First team out sings karaoke. You miss a cup, you drink. You land a cup, they drink”

You looked at Bucky “You ready?”

He glanced down at the plastic cup in his hand like it had personally offended him “I’ve done worse missions”

“High praise,” you said, already grinning “Let’s smoke ‘em”.

You were up first. Your throw was decent : spiraled a little left, but landed. Clint groaned dramatically and took a swig from his cup

“Luck,” he muttered

“My aura guided it,” you shot back, tossing him a wink. Bucky didn’t smile, but his eyes crinkled slightly. He took his shot without comment. It arced just right, hit the rim, bounced once and dropped

Nat raised an eyebrow at him “Didn’t take you for a party game savant”

“Didn’t take you for a sore loser,” he said

You choked on your drink

“Damn, Barnes,” Tony said, eyebrows shooting up

Clint groaned again “Great. He’s funny now”

Your next shot missed wildly : bounced off the table entirely and smacked into the edge of the couch, you winced

“Ambient empathy, huh?” Bucky said, dry

“I’m distracted,” you replied

“By what?”

“By how serious you look playing a game involving plastic cups and peer pressure”

He raised an eyebrow “This is serious”

“You’re smiling”

“I’m not”

“You are”

“I’m scowling”

“That is not a scowl, Buckaroo”

He froze “Did you just-”

“Yup”

He turned slowly toward you, deadpan “We’re not there yet”

“Okay,” you said brightly, “noted. No Buckaroo”

You grinned over your drink. He shook his head like he regretted every life decision that led to this moment. But he was laughing. Quiet, almost under his breath, but it was there.

A few rounds later, you were tied - two cups each - and the tension was starting to mount. The rest of the team had gathered like an audience, cheering (heckling) from the couches

“Pressure’s on,” you murmured as Bucky lined up his next shot

“I don’t fold under pressure,” he said. He threw. It landed. Nat cursed under her breath.

You reached out and high-fived him without thinking, he actually met it, and it wasn't a limp high-five either but a real one. Solid. Confident.

“See?” you said, bumping your shoulder lightly into his again “Dream team”

He smirked- barely there, but real “It’s a high-stakes operation, I'm adapting”

“You’re adapting to me, Barnes"

Another look. A little longer this time

“Yeah,” he said, “I guess I am”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Clint’s voice cut in:

“Okay, flirting team, wrap it up, last round.”

Steve snorted

Final shot. You held your breath as Bucky leaned forward, lined it up, and missed by a hair. Clint whooped.

“You had one job,” you said, mock-scandalized

Bucky tilted his head at you “You missed three” he had an almost amused half smile. You sighed dramatically and downed the last of your drink “Fine. We’ll sing, but I pick the song”

He blinked “You’re actually doing it?”

“You’re not?”

He stared at you like you’d just suggested cartwheeling off the roof “I don’t sing”

You held out your hand “Time to adapt, Bucky”

He looked at your hand for a beat, and just before he took it Tony clapped his hands, the sound slicing clean through the post-game chatter

“Alright, alright, put the karaoke mic down, Barnes,” he said, pointing directly at you “We’ve got unfinished business. You lost. That means party trick” Tony grinned excited

You stopped in your tracks “Oh come on, Tony”

“Yes!” Natasha called from her throne of throw pillows on the couch

“Obligatory, mandatory,” Clint added, raising his glass “Don’t deny us Glowbug”

You shot Bucky a look “You see what I put up with?”

He shrugged, pretending to be neutral, but there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth

“C’mon young lady” Tony said, smug as ever “Light show, like right now”

“I’m not- ” you started

“It’s fine,” Bruce interjected gently, stepping in like the calming presence he always was “You’ve got control now, just keep it ambient”

You shot him a look. “We’ve talked about the phrase ‘keep it ambient’ I sound like a scented candle” You sighed dramatically “Fine. You people are relentless”

You took a breath. Just one, in and out, then you let it happen

From your fingertips, golden light began to rise : slow, soft, not blinding or loud. It shimmered like dusk on still water.

The gold shimmered outward in waves, it brushed against the people closest to you first. Clint blinked, then blinked again, murmuring something like whoa. Natasha’s mouth twitched faintly at the corner, and Steve, who’d been sitting stiffly in the corner for most of the night, visibly exhaled like a weight he hadn��t realized he was carrying had just slipped off his shoulders. And that’s when you felt it.

A pull

Something… giving, releasing, like your light had found a frequency beyond visibility. You didn’t know what it was doing exactly, only that the moment it passed through someone, something quiet inside them seemed to shift. A softening relief.

You turned slightly and saw Bucky. His eyes were closed, ot tight, not defensive, just… still

The glow hovered near him and, strangely, stayed

It didn’t bounce or ripple, it just lingered. Settled on his shoulders. You watched how the lines in his face had eased. His jaw, always tight, had unclenched, and his chest rose slow, deep, as though he’d been holding a breath since the moment he walked through the door. For a moment everything was quiet.

You blinked once, then again, hands still faintly aglow. The warmth had dimmed a little, but your fingertips still pulsed with that same golden shimmer.

You didn’t know what just happened, you’d never done that before

“Okay,” you said, voice trying very hard not to shake “That’s… new”

Bruce was in front of you before the last word even left your mouth, glasses already pulled from the inside pocket of his cardigan. His eyes were lit up, the way only a scientist's can be when the theory starts cracking open in real time.

He didn’t touch you, Bruce was too gentle for that, but his eyes flicked from your hands to your face and back again, like maybe the glow would spell something out for him if he just stared hard enough.

“Did you feel that?” he asked, “That was, wow, that was like... like an emotional transference field. You weren’t just projecting light, you were regulating...modulating energy at a neurochemical level”

Steve leaned in from behind him, his eyes going from him to you with a slight frown “Alright, dial it down... please translate”

Bruce waved a hand “She’s like… you know how sunlight helps regulate circadian rhythms and makes people feel better?”

Tony blinked “No”

“Vitamin D, mood stabilisation, overall emotional uplift,” Bruce clarified, gesturing vaguely toward you “She’s that. But, like… concentrated”

“So what I’m hearing is,” Tony said, pointing with his drink, “she’s the cure to seasonal depression in a dress, got it”

Clint snorted from the couch and made a joke you didn't hear, Steve was still standing just to the side, arms crossed loosely, and there was something soft behind his eyes. Almost proud, like watching a kid hit their first home run

“That was good,” he said simply “Whatever that was, you gave people something”

You tried to smile at him. You really, really did

But your chest—

God

Your chest was on fire

You could feel it beneath your ribs, blooming slow and deep like molten glass. It didn’t pulse, it throbbed and radiated. Not a sharp pain but a consuming one. You wrapped your arms around yourself without realising it, the gesture small, instinctive, a poor shield for something that felt like you chewed broken glass

A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle. Except sometimes it does. Sometimes it burns all the way down to do it.

They didn’t notice

Natasha had turned back to Steve, muttering something about new training routines, Bruce was practically vibrating with hypotheses, Tony had returned to his corner of the party already trying to figure out how to harness your powers for sustainable nightlife energy. Laughter was returning, the moment was fading. Except for one pair of eyes. He was still watching.

Bucky.

You looked away quickly. Too fast. Which of course made it worse.

He started walking toward you

“I need a drink,” you said to no one in particular, already turning “Like, now”

No one argued, no one followed except-

“Hey,” came a voice low behind you as you reached the makeshift bar, already fumbling with one of the vodka bottles, hands shaking just enough to spill a few drops “You alright?”

You didn’t turn around. Just popped the cap, took a long sip

“Peachy,” you said

A beat

Then another

Then, gently, “Don’t lie”

You swallowed hard, and when you finally turned your head he was right there. Not hovering, just there, steady as ever. His brows were drawn, mouth flat. One gloved hand flexed at his side like he wanted to reach out and didn’t know if he was allowed to. You didn’t mean to say it out loud but it slipped

“It hurts”

There. Soft. Barely audible.

But he heard you, you knew he did. His jaw tightened.

You waited for the lecture : the suggestion to sit down, to tell Bruce, to get medical, to stop using your powers so recklessly, but it didn’t come.

He just stood there, watching you, and said

“You don’t have to prove anything tonight”

That’s what undid you. You blinked fast, shook your head, smiled like it didn’t mean anything. Then tipped your vodka bottle toward him

“Let me have tonight,” you said “Just this, let me be fine”

He didn’t answer, not out loud, but his eyes—those goddamn eyes—they said he knew you were lying. And they said he’d let you do it anyway just this once. So you threw back the rest of your drink and let yourself spin back into the noise and the light and the mess of bodies and laughter, trying to forget the way your ribs still burned and the fact that you’d just become something new.

--

The second drink went down too easy.

You weren’t a lightweight, exactly, but pain made the edges of everything sharper, and liquor dulled just enough of it to make the buzz feel like a mercy. You could still feel the burn behind your ribs, soft and searing like a glowing coal, but it was background now. Manageable and far away.

So you drank again

And then, well, you came alive.

It started with the shoes

You’d kicked them off somewhere near the armchair Bruce had claimed and now padded barefoot across the compound’s sleek floors like it was your own personal runway. Your hair was loose, your eyes shimmered, every movement sparked a little glow that you couldn’t quite contain, but for once, you didn’t try. You dance without freely, giggling and laughing every time you would lose your balance a bit

“God, she’s drunk,” said Tony, delighted

“I’m festive,” you corrected, now spinning on your heel

Tony leaned in toward Steve “That’s your cue Cap. She’s gonna fall over and take out the new speakers”

But Steve just sipped his cider, amused “She’s alright”

“Oh, I’m amazing,” you announced, arms raised dramatically as you swayed toward the makeshift dance floor “I’m the emotional support rave this party never knew it needed”

Bucky watched all of this happen like a man trapped in a hostage situation no one else could see. He stood stiff near the bar, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight, like he was ready to lunge at the first sign of disaster. And given the way your barefoot self just tripped over a beanbag chair trying to curtsy to Pepper, he was seeing disaster where everyone else saw charm. Steve stepped beside him

“She’s got energy tonight” Bucky didn’t respond

“Different than the last few weeks,” Steve tried again, nodding toward you as you laughed so hard at something Natasha said you nearly spilled your drink “It’s good to see her smile”

“She’s drunk,” Bucky muttered

Steve raised a brow “So?”

“So she’s gonna fall, or light something on fire, or both”

Steve gave him a long, assessing look

Then, lightly “You know you can just say you’re worried about her”

“I’m not”

“Sure”

“She is my mission” a muscle of his jawline jumped as he almost gave himself away "you all are, I'm the head of security and she is not being careful"

“Okay”

Steve smiled silently as he sipped his cider again, searched for Tony's eyes through the crowd and gave the tiniest nod towards Bucky when he found them. Bucky's eyes on the other hand flicked toward you every time you were more than 5 meters away. When you leaned a little too far back laughing, he straightened. When you stumbled near the balcony, he took a single step forward before catching himself and clenching his fists.

He didn’t know when he started watching out for you.

He just did.

It was muscle memory now, like breathing

Tony noticed

“Barnes,” he said, slinging an arm around Bucky’s tense shoulders, “you are vibrating at a very specific frequency and I think I know what it is”

Bucky gave him a slow, unimpressed stare “Don’t”

“Protective. Irritable. You keep tracking her like a sniper scope in a soap opera. Don’t worry,” Tony said breezily, “we’ve all had a thing for her at some point. It’s the light. Very biblical.”

“Do you want to be punched?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, but I get it-”

Bucky didn’t hear the rest, because you were laughing again and this time it was a full-body laugh: head thrown back, eyes crinkled, hand over your chest like you couldn’t contain it. Natasha was pretending to be offended, Clint was gasping for breath. Whatever you’d said, it had landed. Hard.

And you were glowing again

Not just your hands this time, your whole damn body. It was subtle, like the light had seeped under your skin and decided to stay, like it belonged there, and that, that was the part that pissed him off

Not the danger, not the recklessness, it was the joy

You were joy in a bottle someone shook too hard and left uncorked, and even in pain, you gave it freely, carelessly

And he hated it

He caught you by the elbow when you nearly slipped on a puddle of spilled cider, steadied you, and said gruffly, “You’re gonna fall”

You looked up at him, eyes glazed and bright, lips pink with drink and laughter

“Oh hey, soldier,” you said, beaming “You came to dance?”

“I came to make sure you don’t break your neck”

“You’re no fun”

“And you’re drunk”

“And you’re hot when you’re worried,” you said without thinking. His brow furrowed, his mouth twitched. You turned- well, spun, really-and promptly lost your balance. It would’ve been a disaster if it weren’t for the gloved hand that caught you by the waist, firm and immediate

“You’re done”

You blinked up at him, grinning “I’m not done. I’m just pre-pausing”

“You’re drunk,” he said flatly, one arm still around you

“I’m hydrated,” you argued, jabbing a finger into his chest “I had punch. Lots of fruit in it. Very responsible”

“That punch was 90% vodka”

“Tony said it was organic”

He stared at you for a moment, unblinking. His hand was still on your waist. You hadn’t noticed until right then how warm he was

“You’re going to bed,” he said

“Oh, how romantic”

He didn’t rise to the bait “I’m head of security”

“And I’m a delight”

“C’mon doll” His voice softened, just a little. He exhaled like he was weighing the pros and cons of sedating you and hauling you over his shoulder

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, you grinned like a child in response

“C’mon, ” he said, tugging you gently toward the hallway “Let’s go sunshine”

You stumbled a little but he adjusted without thinking, steadying you with both hands now, one at your elbow, the other on your lower back. Every point of contact buzzed, something that made your breath hitch

He noticed

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low

“Totally,” you said, smiling “I just… got a lot of sparkle in my system”

“Sparkle,” he repeated

“Mmhmm” You leaned into his side as you walked “You ever feel like… like you’re too full of light? Like you’re gonna burst out of your own skin? No? Just me? Cool”

He didn’t answer

But his hand didn’t move from your back

The compound hallways were quiet now. Warm lamplight buzzed overhead, and your footsteps echoed just a little on the tile. You were still half-laughing at your own joke when you tripped over absolutely nothing and stumbled hard into his side

This time, he caught you completely

One hand on your hip, one hand curled around your wrist. You were pressed against him now, your chest to his ribs, your face tilted up because he was so goddamn tall and everything felt loud and hot and close.

“You shouldn’t push yourself like that”

“I know”

“You don’t”

You shrugged “I like making people feel good”

“You can’t do that if you’re dead”

You blinked

Something flickered in his expression then- guilt, fear, something-but it vanished before you could name it

His eyes flicked down to your mouth, once

Back up

His breathing changed

“Bucky,” you whispered, and you didn’t even realise you’d said it until the sound of it made his fingers twitch against your skin

He was drowning, you could see it. In the way his throat worked as he swallowed, in the way his grip didn’t loosen, didn’t retreat. His lips parted for just a fraction, and just for a second, just a flicker—he looked like he wanted to say more. Like there was a dam behind his teeth and if he opened his mouth again it would all come out

But he couldn’t.

Because somewhere in the back of his mind, the wrong voice whispered: She’s not yours. She’s the mission.

And he couldn’t remember why that was supposed to help anymore.

CHAPTER 6 - Do you want to stay?