#I know for a fucking fact engineers need to be able to actually do their jobs to keep them too

[llycaons]

I wrote a long post abt how hysteria over cheating with AI is borderline irrelevant to my field and how that post implying it's a huge epidemic annoys me and then deleted it bc nobody cares. lol

[supermenz]

one

summary: One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do; two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one. Or: you're two years old when you lose your parents. Your brother, a kid himself, is unable to give you the love you deserve, and you end up at twenty being as burn out as only a Gotham University student can be. So, what do you do? Change scenery, of course.

pairing(s): clark kent x wayne!reader, bruce wayne x sister!reader, eventual platonic batfam x reader (no use of y/n)

warnings: genius kid trope, kinda doomed siblings, language, there are reference to what happens in "the batman" but there will be a merge of both comics and films, written with david!superman in mind cuz he's my pookie 😞, bruce is so pathetic i love him sm

word count: 2.2k

author's note: my first ever fanfic for the dc universe!! constructive criticism is welcomed as english is not my first language,

next | series masterlist

Gotham has left you feeling more claustrophobic in the last few months than it did all your life. 

Maybe it’s because you’re seeing your brother slip into his work — aka beating criminals in the night as a hobby — more and more, or maybe it’s just your brain playing tricks on you. It’s probably the latter. 

You’ve never been good with emotions — it comes with being a Wayne, and surely, having your parents die before you were three didn’t help your situation. Bruce spending most of your childhood abroad with barely any contact with you also probably didn’t help either. 

“But I’m here now,” he had said once, “Am I not?”

He is, but even if you love him with all your heart, sometimes you think that you’re more like colleagues rather than siblings. Your bond is strained, with him being so closed-off and spending most of his free time cosplaying as a bat, and you having just entered your twenties, trying to get your second degree in biology after an early graduation and an even earlier PhD in engineering. And since his first big case four years ago, neither of you has been the same. 

Your relationship has never been easy. The flood and the Riddler’s case basically forced you to trauma bond over what you both had experienced, as surely no therapist would’ve wanted to hear about all the horrors that you two experienced, even for all the money in the world. Besides, it’s not like Bruce could just enter a therapist’s office and tell them that he’s the fucking Batman. 

As of now, you tend to have your… ups and downs. Both prefer to just hide behind paperwork, projects, cases or research rather than just talk some things out. Because yes, Bruce’s your brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s easy to love. There are some days where he seems to be barely able to talk to you, others where you know he just wants to scream at you for whatever reason, others where… others where you think he might just crumble at your feet and start crying. 

You don’t have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why he manages to stay in Gotham even after all that’s happened — combined with the fact that he’s spent ten years or so abroad. Maybe you need that, too. 

“I’m thinking of moving out,” you tell him during one of your rare dinners together. You have already talked about your plan to Alfred, who has shown his support towards the idea and urged you to get out of Gotham as soon as you could, but you also wanted to tell Bruce — just to be honest with him. 

Yes, he left you to study abroad all those years ago without any kind of goodbye or anything, but you have no intention of leaving him behind like he did to you — you may be grown adults now, but that doesn’t mean that being left behind doesn’t exist anymore. You doubt Bruce would ever feel left behind by you, of all people, but still. “Found a faculty in Metropolis that will be able to transfer all my credits and studies and a nice flat downtown near the Wayne Enterprises’ site there. I think I need a breath of fresh air– I need to go somewhere where the sun actually shines and not everyone has hidden agendas.”

You’ve heard good things about Metropolis, and you think that the Martha Wayne Foundation could be expanded a bit more — somewhere far from Gotham, where surely there are other orphanages, other people in need that could use some help. “I could handle Wayne Enterprise’s gestion and settle our matters there while continuing my studies in a more… calm environment.” calm is a big word for a metropolitan city as big and populated as Metropolis, but every city is calm in contrast to Gotham.  

Your brother doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, wide-eyed, fork still raised to eat the potatoes Alfred cooked, his face blank. Is he having a heart attack? You didn’t think that you moving out would’ve been such horrendous news for him. Yes, even if you are not that close he’s still very protective, but he went to live abroad at ten. You’re twenty and you’re just… moving to Delaware. It’s not like you’re going to the fucking Himalaya mountains as he did. 

(Meanwhile, Bruce is spiraling. He wonders when the hell did his little sister grow up, how it can be that she isn’t the little girl he used to sway around anymore, and why would she ever want to move out. Is it because of him? Did something happen? 

Isn’t Metropolis in another state? Is he so tremendous that you have to move states in hopes to forget about him? Is he too overbearing? He thought he had always given you enough space to do your own thing–)

Instead of saying all of the things he’s thinking, he tries to muster up a smile, even if it comes out as a grimace. “Alright.” 

He nearly jumps out of his seat when you beam at him — is he really that obnoxious that you can’t wait to move out and have him out of your life? “Oh, I’m happy that you’re taking it well! I was afraid you’d freak out.” you get up from your seat and move over to hug him, and he chuckles nervously. “Why would I? You’re an adult, you can do what you want.” 

(What do you mean?!, his conscience screams in his head, She isn’t even twelve! Just yesterday she was talking about going to the homecoming dance with her friends–

But time has passed, and even if Bruce feels that it was particularly hard on him, he didn’t think it’d affect you too, somehow. It’s weird acknowledging something’s — someone’s — changes in the years in… so little. He had gotten so used to you being his little sister that he didn’t even think about you becoming a full on woman. He still remembers the pink bundle of blankets your parents had given him that day at the hospital, telling him to be careful with her, she’s your little sister.

When have you grown this much? Where did the time go? He swears it was just yesterday when you were admitted to Gotham University.) 

“But… a flat? Are you sure you’ll be comfortable there? It’s not exactly as big as a manor.” 

You avoid his gaze, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah, about that…”

He raises an eyebrow, “Let me guess, you bought the whole building?” 

You snap your fingers, “They don’t call you the greatest detective for nothing!” you sit back down, cutting the meat on your plate, “I plan on making the floors I won’t live in into a laboratory of sort– almost like the Batcave, y’know, so I can continue working on the models I designed undisturbed.”

When Bruce had started his crusade as Batman, you had just gotten your bachelor’s degree in engineering, and were working on your master’s degree. You had basically given him the head-start, creating the software of the Batcomputer (or of the computer, as he calls it), designed and adapted a sport’s car to the Batmobile (just call it the car, Bruce always insists) and basically modified and created every single one of the gadgets and systems he uses. 

You just hope he won’t let the Batcomputer get hacked as soon as you land in Metropolis — you spent weeks programming her and years perfecting her system. You spent so much time on her, she might as well be your firstborn by now. 

“I’ll always be a call away,” you murmur when your brother’s eyes get a little dazy, unfocused– like he’s in another world, always thinking about the worst that could happen. “You know that, right?”

Bruce blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I– I know that.” 

(He isn't sure about that.) 

You pat his hand, mustering a smile. "Maybe you should take a break, too. Why don't you book a vacation in, let's say... the Bahamas? Just to get a bit tanned and remember what the sun actually looks like."

He shakes his head. "Can't. Batman doesn't go on vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, sighing in defeat. "Well, I'm sure the GCPD could handle Gotham for a few days, but do as you like."

Your arrival in Metropolis is, of course, followed by an unhinged swarm of journalists and press that surround you as soon as you land.

You can already see the headlines — THE PRINCESS OF GOTHAM NOW IN METROPOLIS or some other corny predictable shit like that — as they shove their cameras in your face, screaming and trying to grab you, as your bodyguards try to contain them. You're much calmer than they are, having already endured years and years of invasive journalists.

“Miss Wayne, would you care to tell us the reason for this abrupt change in scenery?”

“Has your move got anything to do with your relationship with your brother?”

“Miss Wayne, look here! A smile for the front page–”

“Miss Wayne, why Metropolis, of all places?”

“Miss Wayne, a word for the Daily Planet?”

The guy for the Daily Planet catches your attention– he seems far too nice and isn’t elbowing anyone; he must be either new at the job or is too nice for it. He’s got a mop of curly, black hair atop his head, thick glasses perched on his nose, baby blue eyes behind them. His posture is a little crooked — he’s getting squeezed by reporters on both of his sides — but, even as disheveled as he is, you notice a thing. 

Ohh, he’s pretty. Like, jaw-dropping pretty, the kind of pretty that makes you want to bite his cheek and never let go for the rest of your life. 

You stop in your tracks, lifting your sunglasses to your head, bodyguards panicking at the swarm of journalists that suddenly all point to one direction; you reach for the pocket of your jeans and take out a business card that you pat on the pretty reporter’s chest. “Another time, pretty boy,” you promise as he takes the card, his fingers brushing yours, the other journalists speechless around you. “I’m kinda busy right now.” 

You don’t stay long enough to see him blush and hold the business card tight in his palm so that the other reporters don’t snatch it out of his grip — the bodyguards urge you forward, towards the SUV with obscured windows that is waiting for you right in front of the arrivals’ exit of the airport. One of them opens the door for you, and you don’t hesitate to get inside, the car speeding off as soon as everyone’s inside. 

“Never seen anything like this,” one of the men mutters.

You shrug, “I’ve had worse.” 

The ride to your building is short, mostly because it’s late in the evening and there aren’t many people still around. You leave a generous tip to both the bodyguards and the driver, thanking them but assuring them that you can walk alone the thirty steps that separate you from the entrance to what’ll be your home for the foreseeable future. They help you take out your trolley and duffle bag, which you swing over your shoulder right after taking the keys of the building out. 

You open the front door, carefully closing it behind you, taking the elevator right in front of it. You press the number thirty out of thirty-four, which turns green with a ding, and wait for the doors to open back up. And once they do, you’re not disappointed. 

The loft is arranged just like how you asked the movers to — it would’ve been hard not to, as you sent them the 3D interior design plan you had made, but still. You’ve been raised with the idea that if you want something done well, you have to do it yourself, so you’re pretty happy about how it turned out. 

Still, something’s missing. 

You check around the loft for any pieces of missing furniture or something like that, not finding anything. You even go back to the 3D model to make sure that everything got here safe and sound, only to find that yes, everything is in the colour you ordered and exactly in the place you asked for it to be. 

You sit on the U-shaped couch that sits right in front of the giant windows that let on the skyline of Metropolis, eyebrows knit in deep thought. The house is nice — for fuck’s sake, you bought a whole building just for you and your projects — but it’s weird not having anyone else around. There’s no Alfred to welcome you, no half-asleep Bruce roaming without an idea of where he is, no squeaking and creaking of the floor when you walk. 

You sigh. “Maybe I should get a cat.” 

[kookiecrumb]

Too Big.

cw: adult content (18+), smut

pairing: Jungkook x Y/N

wc: <1000

tags: light smacking, it hurts for like a second, graphic language, looooove (bf!jungkook), one shot, short fic, unbetaed, written in about an hour, bigdick!jungkook, idol au

summary: you fly out to meet your boyfriend after being long distance for a while and to do something special for the first time.

a/n: here!

~

You had to put it out of your mind that it was going to happen tonight.

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, Jungkook was finally going to be right in front of you, completely naked, looking at you in a way that you’ve never experienced before.

Before all that, though, you needed to get picked up from the airport, arrive at his place, shower, and have something to eat.

The flight was excruciating to say the least. Your knees poked into your chest, practically, as you tried not to think too hard about how you were forced into invading your fellow passenger’s personal space by the stupid cabin engineer’s greedy design.

Whatever. It will be over soon and you’ll be up and out of this flying metal tube in the sky in a little over an hour.

You tried not to wince as you reached down for your bag to pluck a bag of seaweed snacks from one of the side pockets. They only charge so much for food at the airport because they know you don’t have any other option.

What are you gonna do? Pick up your car from the overnight parking garage two miles from the airport, drive all the way to the closest McDonald’s, repark your car, walk back to the airport and go through TSA again, all in time for your flight?

Ridiculous.

You’ve never been able to properly sleep on airplanes, so for the rest of the way to Incheon, you delicately balanced your tablet on the sad excuse of a cabin tray and watched your downloaded episodes on Netflix.

Sarah Jessica Parker was so hot back in the day. Retrospectively, though, Kristen Davis was criminally underrated in the earlier seasons. You crossed your arms and waited for the plane to hit the ground running.

—

You had this idea that you were hard to make cum. You weren’t able to do it when taking a dildo, so you figured it would be difficult for you to cum on Jungkook’s dick. No big deal. That wasn’t really the point, anyways.

Not only did you cum on Jungkook’s dick, you were able to several times while he was still inside you, pumping and smacking his hips against you in missionary position as your legs pinned his thighs, bucking upwards to take in as much of him as you physically could.

He’d hold you in his arms and look down at you with his long hair. He would look kind of cute at this angle if he didn’t have such a determined and almost fierce look on his face while he pushed on your thighs to get you to give a little bit.

He fucked you shallow. He methodically placed your hands beside your head to make sure they were out of the way of his arms, pressing into the mattress to offset his harder thrusts.

!!

That’s when you felt a sharp pain deep in your gut. “Ow!” You chirped.

“Ow?!” Jungkook echoed, alarmed. “What? Did I hurt you?!” He pulled away, breathing heavily. Jungkook was kneeling on the bed, a look of concern washing his face as he postured his cock with his right hand.

“I’m not sure…” you frowned. “What happened?”

“I was just getting all the way in. Was that not comfortable at all?”

You glanced down at Jungkook’s cock. Fully hard, he was almost 8 inches long. On top of that, he had exceptional girth. He was just a little bit bigger than the dildo you had at home.

In fact, it was that very dildo that he gifted you to practice with one day that felt so small compared to him in actuality.

After a while of no response, Jungkook added: “It felt really good. I couldn’t really get all the way in until just a second ago and that’s when you said ‘ow’.”

“I think you might be just a little bit… too big,” you hesitated, surprised at the reality of things.

“I’ve heard it before. I’m sorry for hurting you.” Jungkook said, a tinge of disappointment in his voice.

“It’s okay. I still think you’re really hot. Do you think you could help me take your size?” You ask.

“Yeah. Of course. We can do it together. Here. Let me try from the side or back,” he prompts, shifting around so that he is almost spooning you.

He moves your leg over his side and uses his thumb and index to very lightly graze your labia to find your vagina.

He’s found it.

His fat tip splits you as he dives into your sweet and tight intimacy. He scoops your arms up so that your back lay flush against his chest and nips your ear between his teeth. “Is that better?” He puffs, an intoxicated smile spreading on his tender lips.

“Yeah~” you sigh, throwing away every unrelated thought out the window as you took in every drop of sweet fucking that he was giving you.

“Good~” he groans. His hands settle down on your hips as he bottoms out on you, tangibly snug against your cervix. He thrusts experimentally, rolling in.

Again, he rolls in and firmly pressed the tip of his cock against your cervix, his large hands cupping your hips.

“Fuck— Babe,” you whine. “More—“ was all you can manage.

“More?” He teases, pulling out just to smack back into you. His arms catch you in a close embrace as he screws your tight pussy. He fucks you with his leg over your thigh, curving his long, thick cock into you in a strict rhythm.

Not missing a beat, he spreads you on the bed and digs his knees into the mattress. He is now over you, his cock shifting inside of you. “That good?” He asks briefly.

“Mhm,” you insist, your head turned against a large and fluffy pillow.

Holy fuck was this an amazing view. Jungkook balanced on one hand to quickly jiggle your ass and smack it lightly, moaning at the sight. He wanted to bury his face in your cunt and suffocate in your thighs. The idea of being able to fuck you like this with his fat cock made him want to—

“Fuck! Y/N, you’re so hot,” he mumbled as he picked up the pace, his balls slapping against you.

Your mind was in a daze. There was nothing you could focus on expect the deep, pleasurable, satisfying sensation of your boyfriend filling you. His skin felt like soft warm sand on a beach, his languid thrusts milking every bit of delectation from your body.

You swell and contract around him, constricting his cock inside of you, which earns you a drawn out groan from Jungkook. He huffs.

Without much warning, your orgasm rolls over you. Jungkook staggers and rips out a soft, exhausted groan as he cums inside of you.

—

He kisses your cheeks and lips, turning you towards him. His forehead rests on yours. “I love you. I love you very much,” he says. “I will never ever hurt you. If it hurts again, you need to tell me.”

~

fic tag: @silversparkles11 , @lvoekook @sammy-steve-btsarmyakasammy, @kooliv @koobsessed @angelwonie , @hoseokgrecns , @bangsterz @swyseren, @sxtaep , @koostarcandy @hgema , @jjkeverlast, @nglmrk @devilsbooksworld @saweetspoiled , @exactlyfuriouscoffee and @unicornbabylover

[fanficimagery]

Violent Little Thing

To the Sons of Anarchy, you're just Happy's neighbor that doesn't care for drama or the fact that they wear kuttes. But in actuality, you've dealt and probably have done far worse, and it isn't until you're kidnapped that they find out your secret.

Author's Note: Long time no see, huh? Does this mean I'm back? Hell no. This has been sitting in my drafts since mid-2023 and thought it was time to go out. For never having seen more than a few episodes, I love these SOA boys. I'm not super familiar with the lingo or clubhouse etiquette, so this is gonna take place away from that particular setting. Trigger warning for graphic violence and attempted sexual assault (it doesn't get far). Reader is gonna be a little… off the rails. Blame all the dark romance I've been reading lmao.

Before moving into your new home, you knew it was going to be a fixer upper. Fortunately for you, you loved working with your hands, and after having been banished to Charming in hopes of calming your inner demons, you were going to have a lot of time to do just that. But the joke was on your family because there was no calming your demons. People just needed to learn to not piss you the fuck off.

When you get to the house, however, you see that a majority of the work has already been done for you. The only thing left for you to do is paint the walls, rearrange furniture, and unbox your belongings. The electricity and water are already turned on, and wifi has been installed with your password on a sticky note.

The master bedroom is huge and you love it, but you don't have nearly enough belongings to fill it. Your queen-sized bed looks tiny and you immediately want something bigger. So heading back outside to your vehicle, you grab your bag that has your laptop inside and head back in. Setting up at your kitchen island, you search for a place that will deliver any type of food and beverage. You find a pizzeria just on the outskirts of town that will deliver to Charming, so you place a quick order. It's a forty minute wait period, so to pass the time you start looking up bedroom ideas.

You run across a California king bed, but none really catch your eye. What does catch your eye, however, are the DIY beds that touch from one side of the wall to the other. You take your laptop back to your bedroom so see if it's do-able, and come to the conclusion that it is. You'll have to add some floating shelves since you won't be able to have bedside tables, but that's perfectly fine with you. You then take the time to get down the measurements of your room because you still have to situate your dresser and mount your TV to the wall, and you need to make sure everything will fit.

Eventually your food gets there and, sitting at the kitchen island, you dig in. You slowly eat and drink your fill, and then place any leftovers in the already cool refrigerator.

Needing some bathroom necessities and sheets for your current bed, you unload your vehicle. You place each box in their respective rooms, but leave them mostly boxed up. And not wanting to get any TV's mounted or bed fully put together since you still have to paint the walls, you remain on your laptop to pass the time and send messages to your family to let them know you're okay.

It takes you a couple of weeks to build your bed frame, get in your special ordered mattress, and paint the walls to your liking. You do most of your building in the driveway, so you've become accustomed to the people living on your street, waving at them as they pass or call out a greeting. But there's one individual everyone seems to steer clear of or avoid eye contact with, and that's your next door neighbor who rides a motorcycle and proudly wears a Sons of Anarchy kutte.

You had first seen the intimidating, bald man when he showed up a couple days after you moved in. You'd looked up when you heard the rumblings of engines and watched two motorcycles pull into the driveway next door. You paused hammering for a moment, nodded at the two men who took a moment to stare back, and then went back to work.

Over the next few days, men came and went from next door. And each time, they were intrigued watching you work. But eventually your bed frame was finished and you had to situate it in your bedroom. Maneuvering the mattress was no easy feat, but you were not about to ask for help, and it didn't take you long to finally finish furnishing your home to your liking.

As busy as you've been, you haven't really had the time to eat a home cooked meal. So after everything, you took a trip to the grocery store and bought hundreds of dollars of food and drink to stock your kitchen with.

The air is finally cool and crisp, so all the windows to your home are wide open. You'd been feeling a little restless, so you opted to cook a meal that would keep you busy. Enchiladas, rice, and beans is one of your favorite meals, so after making sure you have everything, you put a pot of beans to cook. They have to cook for a few hours, so while that's going on you get online to check in with your family.

When the beans are done, you get started on browning hamburger meat. Setting a majority of the meat aside, you use only a bit for the enchilada sauce. You pour in water, flour, spices, and some canned chili until it's to your liking, and then heat up some corn tortillas before you start rolling the enchiladas. After they're in a pan that holds far too many for only you, you pour the enchilada sauce on top before shredding some cheese atop of it. Once that's in the oven, you get started on a pan of rice.

It's when the rice is boiling that your doorbell rings. A little tired and more than a little hungry, you grab up your beer after turning off the rice, and take a swig of it on your way to the door. Since the door is wide open, you can easily see who's standing just on the other side of the screen door. It's one of the Sons, one of the only two with brown skin that you've seen so far. But this isn't the intimidating bald one, this is the one with a shaved mohawk down the center of his head and a killer smile.

You arch an eyebrow at him as he tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and you take another swig of beer as you lean against the door jamb. "Yes?"

The corner of his eyes crinkle as his smile widens. "Hi. Uh, me and my boys are chilling next door and we couldn't help but smell whatever it is you're eating. You mind sharing the name of the place where you picked up your food from so we can go get some too? Smells really good."

Your lips twitch. "Who said I picked anything up?"

"You cooking?" His eyes widen. "Bullshit."

You huff a laugh and nod. "YN."

"Juice."

"Mhmm." You push the door open just enough so you can lean out and peer next door, catching sight of two men sitting sideways on the seats of their bike. "Just you three?"

"Yeah."

You hum again and then back into your home as the screen door shuts quietly. "I've been watching you guys come and go, nodding cordially when our gazes clash," you say. "If you're willing to leave your shoes by the front door, you're more than welcome to pull up a seat at the table."

"Forreal?"

"Sure." You shrug. "I never learned how to cook for one, so I might have made an entire tray of enchiladas that will most likely go to waste if someone else doesn't eat them."

"Oh hell yeah." Juice turns, cupping his hands around his mouth as he says, "Yo! Free meal! Get over here!"

You watch as one man eagerly gets off his bike, whooping in delight of free food. The other, the one you believe actually lives next door, casually gets up at a leisurely pace. You push open the screen door as they're stomping up your porch steps, and Juice introduces you to Tig and Happy. You do your best not to smile because Happy does not look quite so happy, but he grunts a greeting when you tell them your name.

As Juice steps into your home, he's quick to kick off his shoes and tell his boys to do the same. They do and then you lead the way to the kitchen, pointing at your table. "Siéntate."

"Ohhh. A Spanish lady," Tig muses as Juice translates for him to sit down as you instructed. When you glance at him, his wild-crazed gaze makes you snort. "I like 'em a little spicy."

"And I like 'em less talkative." Happy and Juice both snort, and Tig beams at your sassy retort. "Beer or soda?"

Tig and Happy take beers, and Juice takes a soda. You serve them each their own plate of three enchiladas, a scoop of rice, and a scoop of beans. You serve yourself last with a glass of water, and finally take a seat to dig into all your hard work.

"Goddamn," Tig grumbles after his first bite of everything. "This is some Mexican restaurant level shit here."

You grin as you eat at your own pace, feeling content at watching three grown men finding your cooking delicious.

"So what's your story?" Juice asks. "In all the times I've come around, it's just you here."

"That's because it is just me here."

"Why Charming?"

You take a moment to swallow your food, washing it all down with a sip of water as you lean back in your chair. Then glancing between each man and the patches on their kuttes, you ask, "Do you want the real story or the story I'm feeding anyone who asks in polite small talk when they see a new face in the store?"

All three men slow their eating, their gazes sliding up to you in surprise.

"What's the story you tellin' the locals?" Tig asks.

Placing a hand over your heart and changing your voice so you sound like a southern belle, you say, "Just that I just left a very nasty relationship and my family thought I deserved a fresh start away from the man who dared lift a fist in my direction."

Tig snorts. "And the real story?"

You chuckle as your voice goes back to normal. "My family thought I needed to calm my inner demons, so they banished me to Charming. Joke's on them, I've made peace with my demons. It's not my fault people keep pissing me off."

Tig and Juice laugh as Happy smirks at you.

"What'd you do to earn banishment?" Juice wonders.

You shrug. "I wasn't joking about the nasty relationship. I just leave out the small detail that once I was out of the hospital, I went crawling back to my dickhead of an ex-fiancé and plotted my revenge."

"Crazy and you can cook. Marry me," Tig says.

You shake your head at him, eating a bit more before finishing the story. "I was raised to take no shit from anyone. So after he put me in the hospital, I made him believe all was well. Then one night, when he least suspected it, I slipped him a little something so he was conscious, but paralyzed, and set fire to his house."

The three men freeze, but you continue eating as if it was no big deal.

"Did you- did you kill him?" Juice warily asks.

"Unfortunately, no." You pout and then laugh at their awed expressions. "He had nosy neighbors so they were able to get the firetrucks there as soon as they smelled smoke. But when my family found out, they said I was sloppy, so I got shipped out here."

"Yoo.. what the fuck?" A moment of quiet ensues and then Juice is laughing. "That has to be the craziest shit I've heard in a while."

"I highly doubt that." Your gaze drops to the patch on his kutte. "I'm sure you've heard, seen, or taken part of some pretty crazy shit." When you meet his gaze again, you smirk. "Am I wrong?"

Juice grins and then looks at Happy. "Your neighbor is cool as shit. I'm kind of jealous." The air of amusement lingers as everyone continues to eat. "So what do you do for work?"

"I do some IT stuff for my family." You shrug. "I can work from anywhere, so I guess I'll still be doing that. What about you boys? What do you do other than ride?"

"We work at Teller Automotive," Tig says. "Only car garage in town."

"Really? Do you guys have any openings this week? I need my oil changed."

"Sure. We'll leave a number before we leave."

The rest of dinner is spent with the men telling you what there is to do in Charming and asking how long you plan on staying. You're not really sure, but if you end up liking Charming then you have no issues setting down roots. And then when dinner is done and you've seemed to exhaust all the small talk topics, you plate up the leftovers and send the men on their way.

Over the next couple of weeks, you befriend your neighbor. You take your vehicle into Teller Automotive and Happy takes it upon himself to take care of it for you. Tig and Juice had kept you company, and introduced you to a few of their other brothers when they took interest in their new friend. You were invited to one of their parties and, after some pressuring, you went. Nothing shocked you, not even a few members of the club getting head in plain sight, but Happy apparently shocked everyone else by gluing himself to your side. According to the club President, Happy was normally found in the ring outside or fucking his way through croweaters, but that night he made sure that no one bothered you.

Then more often than not, Happy reaped the benefits of your cooking and appeared for dinner before taking leftovers home for lunch.

In such a short period of time, you grow accustomed to the stern biker's company.

One morning, you're startled awake by the doorbell ringing and a fist pounding on the door. You sit up and scoot out of bed, hurrying towards your front door in a groggy, yet panicked state. But before you pull the door open, you peer out one of the thin windows on one side of your door. It takes a moment for you to realize it's Happy and that the sky behind him is still dark.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open. "What the fuck, Hap? What's going on?"

With a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, Happy looks you up and down. "You always answer the door like this or am I just special?"

You freeze and then glance down, rolling your eyes when you remember you went to sleep in a gray wife beater, that makes it very obvious you're not wearing a bra, and a pair of hipster underwear. "Neither. You're lucky."

"Sure." You narrow your eyes at him and he smirks. "I forgot the bills were due and everything got shut off. Can I crash here until I get it sorted?"

Without missing a beat, you say, "Yeah," and step back from the door, opening it wider. "Shoes off. You know where the bathroom is and I'm pretty sure you can find the guest bedroom." You yawn and lock the door behind your friend. "What time is it?"

"Little after five."

"Happy," you whine. "S'too fuckin' early. M'going back to bed." As you pad back to your room, you don't hear any footsteps behind you. "Stop staring at my ass!"

"Can't help it. Might start dropping by early now."

"Do it and die, Lowman." Stopping and turning, you point an accusatory finger at him. "Do not come in between me and my bed. I will murder you."

His lips twitch. "Worth it."

. .

. .

It takes less than a week for Happy to get his power and water turned back on, and then he's back at his house. Though there are times when he shows up for dinner, dropping off on your couch when he's too tired to walk back home. Normally you would mind, but Happy knew how to clean up after himself, so you didn't mind that it seemed he was practically half moved in.

One night, you get a call from your brother that they need you to come in and work on cracking the passwords on a few laptops they'd gotten their hands on. You agreed, but first you needed to arrange someone to look after your house.

The next afternoon, you show up to Teller Automotive. You find Happy on a smoke break and ask him for a favor. When you ask him if he can keep an eye on your house for two days, he seems surprised, even more so when you give him a copy of your house key. You tell him he can crash there and eat whatever food you have so long as he doesn't trash the place. He readily agrees.

And when you return two days later, you realize you should have specified that he could crash in the guest bedroom. Finding a nearly naked Happy in your bed isn't half bad, nor is the firmness of his ass when you smack a hand down on it to wake him up.

Immediately he jerks awake, twisting his body as he sits up, and pointing a gun right at your face. You laugh and lick the tip of the barrel while wiggling your eyebrows at him. "Wakey, wakey."

"You're a fuckin' pyscho," he grumbles, lowering his gun.

"Yeah, well duh. You should have had that figured out a long time ago." He rolls his eyes before turning to drop down face first back into your pillow, shoving his gun back under it. You grin. "Was there something wrong with the guest room you've been using?"

"No. I just didn't know how fuckin' massive your bed was. It looked lonely without a body in it."

"Mhmm. I'm sure." He grunts and you chuckle as you crawl out of the bed. "I'm gonna go pick up some breakfast from the diner. Want anything?"

"Anything and everything."

"Gotcha. I'll text you when I'm on my way back."

. .

. .

The dynamic between you and Happy ended up changing after that fateful morning. When he slept over, it was in your bed. You hadn't crossed the line past lingering touches or innuendos, but it was a given that he was the only person allowed in your bed. You didn't care for the croweaters at the parties his club put on every Friday night, but the two of you made a statement when he rolled up one night with you seated behind him.

The Sons nearly gaped as Happy amped up his protectiveness, pulling you between his parted thighs as he took a seat on a stool at the bar. Tig and Juice had walked over, and Happy perched you on his knee as you joked with his brothers. The croweaters didn't bother to hide their glares or sneers, but you merely smirked at their cattiness and took to scratching the back of Happy's head with your nails when you'd draped your arm around his shoulders.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax, the club president, had asked.

You shrugged and grinned. "We're friends."

"Friends don't stake claims."

"We're possessive friends."

Happy had snorted but didn't correct you.

From there on out, it was known that you were Happy's.

The Sons are relaxing at the clubhouse after a long day's work when blacked out Escalades and BMW's pull up. The atmosphere immediately goes from relaxed to tense, and the Sons flank their President when he walks out to the lot to see what the deal is.

Thug after thug exit the vehicles before opening the doors on two Escalades, ushering out four well-dressed men. None of them look like they'd be a person to fuck with, so Jax is extremely curious as to what the fuck is going on.

"Can I help you?" He asks, eyebrow arches as tattooed thugs flank the apparent important men.

"I hope you can." The one in charge reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a picture. "What do you know about this woman?"

When Jax is shown a picture, he mentally curses. It's Happy's neighbor and a friend to many Sons. He keeps his expression neutral, before shrugging. "Nothing. Should I?"

"She's my baby sister."

"Oh hell…"

"YN never misses check-in and she's missed two," the man explains. "It's come to my attention that she's made some connections to Happy Lowman, Juan Ortiz, and Tig Trager- all Sons of Anarchy. Do you understand why I'm here now?"

"Fuck, man, we didn't know. What can we do?"

"You can start by questioning your men to see if they'd heard from her."

At that, Tig steps forward. "I haven't seen or spoken with YN in a little over a week."

"What about Juan or Happy?"

Jax looks at his gathered men, frowning. "Where are Juice and Happy?" No one says anything, looking as confused as their President when they don't see their familiar faces. Then raising his voice, he asks, "Has anyone heard from Happy or Juice today?" Nothing. No one utters a peep. "What about yesterday?"

"Jax." Opie has his phone to ear, shaking his head. "Both are going to voicemail."

"Shit." Then turning around to face the slowly darkening expressions of YN's apparent brothers, Jax asks, "How can we help?"

. .

. .

When your eyes flutter open, every inch of your body is in pain.

"How the fuck does my hair hurt?" You groan. You try to sit up, but realize you're on your side, on dirt and hay, with your hands tied behind your back. "What the actual fuck?" Clearing your vision, you see that you're not alone. Happy and Juice are with you, but they're in chairs with their hands tied behind their backs and looking a little beat up.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Juice tiredly muses.

"What happened?" Maneuvering around some, you manage to sit up.

"Kidnapped," Happy says. "They injected us with some shit, but they gave you too much."

You grimace as you roll your neck. "Dicks." It's dim in the empty barn you're being kept in, but you can see sunlight through the cracks of the walls. There are stalls for animals on either side of you, all empty, and a table filled with various blades and weapons not too far away. Your aching arms are your main priority though, so you move into a crouch and wiggle your tied wrists under your butt. With a grunt, you fall backward and maneuver your hands until they're situated in front of you. "Ah. That's better."

"Get up and grab a blade so we can get the fuck outta here," Happy urges.

You do as you're told, mentally scoffing at the thought that these morons didn't think to bind your ankles. Unfortunately, you're not so lucky as someone had been watching from the shadows. So just as you're reaching for a blade, that someone jumps out at you and roughly pins you against the table.

Bent over with your arms above your head and someone pressed up right against you, you immediately start thrashing and cussing out whoever it is. Happy and Juice shout, and start wriggling in their own seats when a hand then pins you to the table by the back of your neck.

"So close, princesa." A man tuts and you jerk in his hold, but still he persists. Laughter causes you to look up, watching as another two men step out from behind Happy and Juice. "Is that anyway to talk to your host?"

"Fuck. Off."

"Oh, I will." Just then, a hand grips your waist and squeezes, and you freeze. "Just not yet. I have some questions for you."

"Don't you fucking touch her."

When you glance up at Happy, there's a look on his face that you've never seen before. You know what he does for the Sons, but you'd never seen that particular dark look or glint in his eyes, and for a moment it steals your breath away. Then you remember that look isn't meant for you, and you squirm a little as the man behind you laughingly presses his pelvis into your ass. "Or what?"

Juice answers, "Or we'll fucking kill you."

That causes all three men to laugh some more.

"Doubtful. But thanks for the laugh." Then the man behind you focuses on you once again. "Besides, my business isn't with you, but with the princesa de la mafia."

You tense. "I don't know anything."

"Aw. Of course, you don't," the man coos. "I would hope that your brothers are smart enough to never let a woman in on their secrets. But then again, you are the baby sister of one of the most dangerous mafias in the United States. I'm pretty sure you know something that I can use to hurt those brothers of yours."

You manage to angle your head just enough so you can make eye contact with Happy. He meets your stare, and you see it subtly soften, but then he's glaring at the man holding you once more. "I won't sell out my brothers."

"No?" The man releases your neck, only to trail his fingers down from your ribs to hips. "I don't want to mess up such a pretty face, but you do know there are other ways to break you and get you to talk, right?"

And then before you can answer, he's grabbing the back hem of your shirt and ripping it down the middle.

You yelp just as Happy shouts, "You motherfucker!", and squirm to get away. Across from you, Happy and Juice are pummeled a few times until they stop trying to break the chairs they're bound to.

The man rubs a hand up and down your back, fiddling with your bra strap, but never unsnapping it. You feel gross, but it's only when the guy reaches around to fiddle with the button on your jeans does red cloud your vision.

"Hey, Hap?" You manage to meet Happy's livid gaze. "Remember when I spoke about my demons?"

"Yeah."

"They desperately wanna come out to play."

"Shut the fuck up, you whore!" The man slaps you across the back of your head and you grit your teeth, biding your time.

Happy slowly smirks. "Then let them out to play, baby."

The moment the button on your jeans is opened, you scream at a pitch that startles every man in the room. Then pushing up as much as you can, you headbutt the man behind you. As he swears, you reach for the first handle you see and are pleasantly surprised to find a small machete. Then without even thinking, you whirl around and swing the blade, catching your would-be abuser in the neck with the blade.

Blood sprays as you immediately tug the blade free, leaving the man to try and cover his wound as he splutters on his own life force. From the corner of your eye, you see someone running at you, but another swing of the machete finds a home in the second man's face.

As the man falls back with a scream unlike anything you've ever heard, he takes the machete with him. Happy and Juice shout at you, and it's then you remember the third. He's running at you, a small blade in hand, and you reach for the nearest weapon. It's a metal bat and just as you rear back to swing, he swings first. The blade makes contact with your bicep, slicing it open, but you only feel the sting of it after you swing.

The bat clips the man in the jaw, stunning him. As he stumbles back, you advance. He sloppily swipes at you again, but you dodge it. The second hit with the bat hits true, catching him in the temple.

The man falls and you're quick to stand over him, bringing the bat down a third time.

The bat connecting for a fourth time makes Juice cringe, but Happy proudly watches on.

Thwack.

Thwack. A scream.

Crack!

"Shit. I think that was his skull," Juice mutters.

YN screams as she continues to wail on the man with her bat, caving his skull further and further in, to the point there's now a puddle of blood beneath his head and splattering with every pull back.

The barn doors open, and Happy and Juice tense when armed men start to file in, but they exhale with relief when they see Jax, Tig, Chibs, and Opie in the mix. All the unfamiliar men take in the scene with an air of indifference, but it's the expressions of the Sons that almost make Happy laugh out loud. They'd only known YN to laugh, feed them, or threaten the croweaters with violence. None of them, with the exception of himself, Juice, and Tig, knew the violence she was capable of.

"Uh, a little help?" Juice calls out. "My arms are killing me over here."

Tig rushes over, pulling out a blade to cut his brothers free. "What the fuck happened?"

"One of them threatened to rape her and she just lost her shit."

Juice is cut free first, and he immediately stands, rubbing his raw wrists. As Jax checks in with him, Happy is cut free.

"Boss, should we stop this?" Someone asks.

Happy looks over in time to see a guy in a suit grimace when blood is flung onto his pristine boots. "Do you want to get in the middle of that? You know how YN is. Let's just let her run out of steam."

As the guy steps back in line with a nod of agreement, Happy huffs and stands. He stalks over to YN until he's behind her. Then when she raises the bat high above her head, Happy lunges. He manages to grip the bat where it isn't slick and pulls it from YN's grasp.

Still very much livid, especially now that your weapon's been ripped from you, you whirl around to start screaming expletives and pummel whoever it is with your bound fists. Instead, arms are wrapped around you, keeping your arms stuck between your chest and another, and there's a gruff voice in your ear saying, "It's over. It's over, baby. The cavalry's here. You can stop now."

It takes a long minute for the voice to infiltrate the fog of rage, and then a moment to realize who's speaking.

When your struggles cease, Happy leans back a little to look down at you, but with his arms still wrapped around you. "You back?"

"Y-Yeah. M'sorry."

Happy grunts and leans his face closer to yours, and for a moment you think he's about to kiss you. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours as his eyes close, and he exhales with relief. "Don't be. That was hot as fuck."

You huff a quiet laugh as a bout of silence ensues, but then one of your brothers decides to ruin it.

"Hey, Lowman, we'll give you a million dollars if you give her your last name and take her off our hands."

You jerk in Happy's hold, turning to glare at all your smirking brothers. "Fuck off!" Laughter ensues at your disgruntled expression before Juice fills them in on what happened, and then Happy is tugging on your bound wrists so you look back at him before finally cutting you free. "Thank you."

One hand grasps the hair at the back of your head, gripping a little tight as he holds you in place so he can press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's get you home. You're covered in blood, and I need to take a look at your arm."

Glancing at your arm, you shrug. It stings, yeah, but it doesn't seem deep enough. And then just as you go to take a step, Happy swoops you up into a bridal carry.

It's then you notice that you, Happy, and Juice are all barefoot, and it's Juice who answers your unasked question. "You sleep like the dead, girl. Happy and I heard them enter the house, but they still managed to get the drop on us."

"I'm getting you a goddamn dog," Happy grumbles in response.

"Only if you clean up after it." He grunts and you grin. If he wanted a guard dog for you, then he was cleaning up any messes.

Outside the barn, suggestions are made about where to go now. Jax suggests the clubhouse, but at the wrinkling of your nose, Happy says you'll be going home. Your brothers mention not everyone can go because that many vehicles will draw attention, so Jax suggests sending your brothers' men back to the club with Opie and Chibs. They agree, and then you're loaded up into an Escalade with your brothers and Happy.

When you get to your house, Tig mentions that they had cleaned up and straightened your furniture after they figured out what had happened. You thank him and let Happy carry you to your bathroom while Juice takes the guest bathroom.

As Happy sets you on the counter, you watch as he gets the first aid kit from beneath your sinks. "They're gonna talk."

"Let them. The club already thinks we're fuckin'."

You snort. "Please. They should know by now that I'd never settle for a relationship where the guy gets to fuck around when he's on the road." Happy freezes with the antiseptic spray bottle in his hand before shaking himself free of thought and spritzing your arm where you were cut.

"Is that why you haven't given me the go-ahead to slip between your thighs?"

You smile at his blunt question and then wince when he wipes your arm clean. "Pretty much. I'm not a fan of my partner sticking his dick or tongue in some rando pussy, then coming home and doing the same to me." Happy grunts and you arch an eyebrow at him. "Would you be okay with me visiting my brothers and sucking someone's dick before coming home to you?"

"Fuck no."

"Exactly." You grin triumphantly. "So, unless you plan to stop dicking down croweaters or sweetbutts, the most you'll get out of me is some cuddling."

Stepping back, Happy tosses the used gauze pads into the trashcan and then reaches into your shower stall to turn on the water. Then looking at you, he demands, "Strip."

"If I fully strip, there's no going back. You're mine and mine alone." You hop off the counter, slipping off your ruined shirt without batting an eye. "I was calm and collected at your parties before because we're friends, but that all changes after this. I won't take it easy on any woman touching what's mine."

Happy smirks as he eyes you in your bra and jeans, and then strips off his shirt. "Good."

You've seen the man shirtless only a handful of times, but seeing his ink never fails to give you pause. You reach out for the first time, tracing the snake tattoo that takes up a majority of his chest and upper abdomen, before you trace the various happy faces on the side of his waist. You feel his abdominal muscles twitch and then between one heartbeat and the next, Happy's crowding you against the sink counter and angling your head up.

His kiss is as aggressive as you figured it'd be, his tongue sliding against yours and teeth digging into your bottom lip. You give as good as you get, nails digging into either side of Happy's waist as you kiss him. Then when the need for air arises, you pull back and try to catch your breath. "Well okay then."

Moving out from Happy's reach, you strip, uncaring of your nudity and then step into the steaming shower. Happy isn't too far behind you, but you're not too interested in seeing him fully naked as you are cleansing a stranger's blood from your body. Standing under the waterfall, you watch as the shower floor turns red. Happy presses in close behind you so he's under the water as well, and you straighten up before leaning your head back onto his shoulder, smiling softly at his hardness that presses against your ass.

"No funny business, Lowman. At least not until we've eaten a fuck ton and slept for a day or two."

He grunts. "Agreed."

You immediately start washing your hair, and you're surprised when Happy takes it upon himself to lather up some soap on your bath pouf to wash your body. For the most part he behaves himself, but when his thumb oh so casually brushes over your nipples, you slap his thigh and pay him back when it's your turn to wash him. He grunts when you take his dick in hand and thrusts into your soapy palm, but you quickly release him to finish washing his body.

"Fuckin' tease."

"You started it."

You get out of the shower first, smirking as Happy tells you he'll be out in a moment. You know exactly what that moment's going to entail since his hand is already stroking his cock before you can even find a towel.

"You gonna want something to eat?"

"Send Tig to get burgers and fries."

"Alright."

Back in your room, you can hear a muttered conversation from somewhere in your house. Clutching the towel around your body, you stick your head out your door. "Tig!"

"What?"

"Happy said to go get us some burgers, fries, and Cokes!"

"Do I look like a fuckin' maid?!" Tig appears in the hall, hands on his hips.

You grin at him. "No, but I do have a maid's costume. Wanna try it on?" Tig gapes and you laugh at his expression. "Come on, Tig. Please? You can grab some cash from the junk drawer."

"Fine. But only because I know Hap will murder me if I don't, not because I'm picturing you in a teeny tiny maid's outfit."

"Sure, buddy. Thank you!"

Tig grumbles as he turns to march out of your house and then you worry about getting dressed. You dress in nothing but a sports bra and boy short underwear, and then with a reluctant sigh you head to the front. Everyone's in your kitchen, sitting around your table, and your brothers groan when they see how little you're wearing.

"Oh, shut up. You've seen me in clothes like this before."

"In tights, not underwear," one brother grumbles.

"Just be glad they're boy shorts and not a g-string."

All your brothers groan yet again whereas the Sons find the interaction amusing. You take a seat at the table, grimacing a little and touching at your raw wrists.

"Let me get that for you," Juice says. He leaves to, no doubt, grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. Then taking a seat next to you, he asks, "Did Hap disinfect your arm?"

"Yeah. Just spritz it again and wrap it. It'll be fine."

As soon as Juice gets to work, Happy enters the kitchen in nothing but a pair of jeans hanging off his hips.

"Jesus," one of your brother's mumbles. "Are people suddenly allergic to clothes around here?"

You grin as Jax arches an eyebrow at his friend. "You have clothes here?" Happy nods and sits, and you quickly introduce him to your brothers while Jax looks at Juice to say, "You seem to know your way around this place too."

"It's because they practically live here when they're not at the clubhouse," you say. "Hap's moved his shit in my room, and Tig and Juice have slowly taken over my guest room." Then glancing at your brothers as if you didn't just drop somewhat of a bombshell on Jax, you ask, "So what the hell happened?"

Juice taps above one of your raw wrists and you situate them so he can disinfect them.

Your eldest brother meets your gaze. "There's a new family in town- Jimenez. They're trying to make a name for themselves and thought they could intimidate us." You scoff as your other brother's chuckle. "When they didn't get the reaction they were looking for, they came up with the bright idea to target the weak link. They thought they had the perfect candidate when they found out we had a baby sister."

"Joke's on them, you're fuckin' psycho," another brother muses.

"I'm not-"

"We literally walked in on you bashing a guy's head in."

"And let's not forget the whole reason you're in Charming is because you tried to burn down your ex's house while he was still inside."

"Or that one time you wrecked your car into that other girl's car all because she broke your friend's heart."

"That cunt cheated on him. She deserved every bit of karma I dished out."

Jax snorts, shaking his head. "Christ. You and Hap are gonna be a pain in my ass."

"You know it."

Tig shows up just after Juice is finished with your wrists. Juice then dishes out the food to you, Happy, and himself, and you get up to grab drinks from the fridge. As you settle back down, Jax and your brothers watch in surprise at how the three of you go to town on your provided meals.

"So, what exactly does one do as a mafia princess?" Jax wonders.

Chewing the food in your mouth, you only answer him after taking a drink of your soda. "I'm the family hacker. If they need a computer hacked into to gather information or scrub information, I get called in."

"So, in other words, you're female Juice," Tig says.

You laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." Juice grins and you reach over to fist bump him.

You continue eating as Jax speaks with your brothers, listening as this small portion of the Sons of Anarchy are filled in about what business your family gets up to. When you're finished eating, you stand and start gathering up the trash to toss. While you're up, you grab yourself a glass of water and some Ibuprofen. Then after downing four pills, you head back to reclaim your seat at the table, only for Happy to gently grab you by the arm and tug you down onto his thigh.

Your brothers don't care about your new chair, but Jax, Juice, and Tig can't help but raise an eyebrow.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax wonders, gesturing between you and Happy.

As you drape an arm behind Happy's shoulders to settle more against him, you smirk. "What's the matter, Teller? Scared?"

He huffs and then stares at Happy, but the man beneath you merely says, "Gonna start drawing up a crow. Does that answer your question?"

The kitchen goes eerily quiet and then…

"Holy shit. Hap's actually gonna take a woman," Juice says in awe.

"This is a momentous occasion. We gotta throw a rager." The glint in Tig's eyes has you narrowing your own eyes at him.

"You just wanna see a girl fight. Don't you?"

"Hap's been possessive of you since you first showed up to the clubhouse, but now that you're staking a claim, the thought might have crossed my mind."

"Are you sure you wanna see that?" One of your brother muses. "YN might traumatize a few poor souls."

Tig smiles. "I look forward to it."

You roll your eyes at Tig's excitement about possibly seeing you fight and your brothers chuckle. The Sons really had no idea what they were in for when someone tested your patience.

Standing, you keep a hand on Happy's shoulder as you say, "Well as much as I love, like, and appreciate all of you, you need to go. I'm exhausted and I still need to sleep off whatever I was drugged with."

Jax grins. "Is that code for us to get the hell out so you can bang Happy's brains out?"

Snorting, you shake your head as your brothers all grimace. "No. I'm seriously exhausted. The fucking will come later after we're well rested. I have a feeling I'm gonna need loads of energy for Hap."

Your brothers all make noises of disgust as they stand, and you take a moment to hug and kiss each of their cheeks on their way out. You promise to call when you're feeling better and then you're ushering the Sons out as well.

Locking up after everyone has left, you head to your room where you find Happy stripping off his jeans. He's in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs as he pulls your blanket back before sliding under and you pad over to do the same. You meet him in the middle, laying on your side as you drape one arm over his abdomen. With your head on his arm, you snuggle closer and Happy reaches for your leg to have it draped over his thigh so you're as close as can be without actually laying on top of him.

"Were you serious? About the crow?" You ask right before you drift off.

"Does that freak you out?"

"Not really. But if I get your mark, you're getting mine."

Happy huffs. "And just what is your mark?"

"My lips and name." You run your hand across his abdomen before walking your fingers down to one of the few empty patches of skin, below his belly button and right beneath where the snake's tail curls. "Right here."

"Above my dick, you mean?"

"Mhmm."

Happy grunts and then squeezes you a little tighter to him. "We'll see, princess. Now get some sleep."

[very-merry-birthday]

Sun Dress Season

~~~~~

Summary: A hot day, a long drive, an overactive imagination. When you just can't stand it anymore you finally say something- and get more than you bargained for.

Sam x Reader

Warnings: A little bit of roughness

A/N: It's crazy to me that I'm posting again after so many years. This started as a Dean idea in my head- but I just couldn't stop picturing Sam instead.

~~~~~

You'd known the Winchesters for years now, and hated Sam for just as long.

He's always been uptight, too proud, a health freak. Dean, you could get on with, have a beer with. But Sam? He was an absolute drag and only worth talking to about hunting. Not that he liked you either, you didn't always follow his rules, didn't do research like he did. Usually you just steered clear from one another, Dean the only connection between you.

You watched him carefully from the passenger seat as he drove along, eyes steadfast on the road, his jaw tightening and relaxing as he chewed his gum. You couldn't deny he was hot, strong frame made him stand out in a crowd, and with his hair pushed back out of his face you were able to trace his chiseled face with your eyes.

"It'll get colder as the sun starts to set", he prompted, undoing another button on his shirt to let the cool air from the open window hit him. You fanned yourself with a takeout menu, not bothering to respond. It had been hot for weeks, and the nights barely provided relief. Not to mention you hated the way he described simple facts as though you didn't already know them.

Your sundress clung to your body, your skin tacky with heat. You hated the feeling. "I need a shower."

He glanced over at you, his eyes quickly darting up and down your body and back to the road. Clearly he didn't want to bother responding to you either. You watched as a small bead of sweat formed at his temple, quickly wicked away by his own shirt sleeve.

Last summer Sam had kissed you during an argument. His hand was tight on your jaw as he crashed his lips into yours. It was angry, and heated, and confusing. But so fucking hot. And too quick. As soon as you'd finally registered what was actually happening he'd pulled away and walked off without another word.

For the last year you'd barely been alone with him, both of you hesitant to be around one another, and never bringing up what had happened. So much so you were beginning to wonder if was actually real or if it was a heatstroke induced hallucination. But watching him now, with the air in the car stifling and muggy, your skin beaded with sweat and his jaw constantly clenching around his gum, it was all you could think about. You fiddled with Dean's cassettes to keep yourself occupied, cursing him out in your head for getting sick enough to leave you and Sam alone on a hunt.

Sam let out a small cough, clearing his throat in the awkward silence. "I, uh, like your dress." He let his eyes dart over your body again momentarily, and then back to the road, steadfast.

You looked down at yourself, the short white sundress was nothing compared to some disguises you'd worn over the years as a hunter, all outfits that Sam had never commented on. "I- thanks". A beat, the sound of the engine filling the air. "It's too hot for anything else... It's old."

"Yeah it's nice- it makes you look nice- or whatever." He stumbled over his words, taking you aback. "It suits you I mean, it's nice to see your legs out." He swallowed hard.

Another beat, friction. "Is that shirt not boiling?"

He looked down at his own outfit now, his thick flannel tight on his arms, the top of his chest shining with sweat where he'd unbuttoned it unusually low. He let out a small chuckle, "it was a stupid decision, I didn't really think it through."

It felt weird seeing him admit a mistake, something about it made you feel far more comfortable. You were desperate to reach out and touch him, his neck, his arms. You wanted his hands on your body, wrapped around your hips, around your throat. The images flashed through your mind, sending a pulse through your body and making you clench your thighs together.

You knew you couldn't think about this, not with him right next to you, and you also knew nothing could come of it. But with the heat filling the car, you allowed yourself the indulgence of your thoughts. You watched his tongue dart out to wet his lips, and quickly pictured his face buried between your legs, his tongue inside you, grinding against his mouth. His hand tightened on the wheel as he sped up along the straight stretch of road, and you allowed yourself to picture his long slender fingers thrusting into you, teasing you. You pictured one finger - no two - sliding through your wet folds, gliding over your clit and pushing deep inside you. Slowly, you glanced over to between his legs, watching as the bulge in his jeans shifted as his legs moved on the accelerator. You pictured him on top of you, both of you naked and sweaty, his cock pushing into you, your leg over his shoulder. Then you were on top, riding him as he threw his head back in a moan. Then you were stood in the shower, pressed against the wall with the water washing over you. Finally you were in the back of the impala, the leather seats ripping at both of your skin as he furiously pounded into you.

You tried to clear the images from your mind, watching the trees outside speeding past as late afternoon set in. As the cooler air began to pour through the window, your mind continued to drift back to Sam, his tongue, his fingers, his cock. The silence only made it harder to stave off the thoughts, impossible to hold them off for longer than five minutes at a time.

After a short while, Sam looked over at you, curiosity finally breaking the silence. "You're quiet..."

His voice shocked you back to reality, unsure how to respond. He looked over at you again, "... What were you thinking about?"

You couldn't take it another second.

"If you pull over right now I'll suck your cock" what the fuck did I just say?!

Sam let out a spluttered cough. "Wha- I- What?!" He was vocalising your own thoughts right back to you.

"I mean- Look we're both adults, we're both hot, and neither of us have been laid in a while." It was true that the hunting life was not kind to either of you. "It doesn't have to mean anything it's just two adults trying to get some urges out." At this point you were trying justifying it to yourself more than to him.

"I- right here?" He looked towards the outstretched road in front of him, no cars had passed for at least an hour.

"Look, I just want you inside of me okay?" I need you inside of me.

His face turned darker and his voice dropped deeper, you could see your words were starting to have the desired affect. "Right now?"

"I'm not going to ask again, so right now's your chance." At this point I'd get down on my knees and beg you.

His jaw clenched again, a thousand thoughts washing over him within seconds. You shut yourself up, watching the micro expressions spread across his face, not wanting to accidentally talk yourself out of it. Then, to the relief of the tight ball in your stomach, he began to press on the break and turn the car to the side of the road, pulling off onto a dirt track lined with a thicket of trees. He turned the car off and swung himself around in one fluid motion, his legs spreading out across the front seats.

His arrogance once again astounded you. He was by no means a short man and the idea you'd both be able to fit while fucking in the front seat was laughable. All the same, you realized your body was already unintentionally reaching towards the fly of his pants, desperate to touch him.

You tugged at his clothes, his cock springing free from his boxers, already on its way to becoming fully hard. You allowed yourself one more glance up at him, and saw him staring back at you, his eyes trained on your mouth. You realized he was just as desperate as you, just more successful at keeping his mouth shut about it, and decided maybe you did still hold some power in this situation. With that you wrapped your mouth around the head of his cock, sinking down on him and letting him fill your mouth. He let out a short grunt, his hand gripping the back of the leather seat.

You weren't completely shocked by the size of his dick, you knew a man so full of himself must be carrying around something larger than average, but as it filled your mouth you were still surprised to feel just how large it really was. With one hand still on the seat, his other came to the back of your head, coaxing your mouth down lower. You choked slightly as his cock hit the back of your throat, momentarily blocking your airway, and he let out another involuntary groan before catching himself.

You pulled yourself off of him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Honestly you're not as big as I expected," you shot, hoping to bring him down a peg.

He watched as you sunk your mouth over him again, your tongue darting out to his tip, and the taste of salty precum mixed with the heat induced sweat filled your mouth. You swallowed it down, allowing him to once again press himself to the back of your throat.

"Yet still large enough for you to gag on." He retorted, shooting you a smug grin. You wanted to call him a prick, but you felt your core tighten with arousal.

Your hand gripped the base of his cock, allowing yourself a few extra inches to breathe, and continued to bob your head around him, his hand pushing you lower each time. You looked up at him again, his eyes shut, head rolled back, mouth slightly ajar. The look on his face made you moan, sending vibrations through his member. He gripped a tight handful of your hair, desperate for the control he was loosing every second to your mouth. You used the pause in rhythm to pull your head back up, dedicating your efforts to his tip with light licks and sucking, and his grip tightened.

"Don't- don't stop" he managed to get out in tight breaths, no longer feeling any embarrassment for his needs, desperate for your touch. You smiled around his cock, once again letting him push you down further as he continued to hit the back of your throat.

Steadily you swallowed him down, becoming used to his size and rhythm, his hand guiding your head. He let out another whimpering moan, "I need-".

You let yourself break free for a moment, looking up at him with wide, desperate eyes, "where do you wanna cum?"

"Fuck!" Just the sound of your question caused him to keel, pushing you back onto his cock and rolling his head back. You took that to mean your mouth, and went back to work on the rhythm of his pounding. "Jesus Christ-"

He tangled his fingers into your hair, pushing you deeper, until it felt like your whole throat was filled with his cock.

"-I, God hang on" he spluttered out, continuing to push you lower before finally allowing you to come up for air. "Hang on- I need your pussy, get out the front of the car."

His request turned your legs to jelly, and watching him try to pull himself together for long enough to open his own door wasn't helping. You pulled your eyes away, desperate for some composure, and kicked open your side. Getting out quick, you wasted no time in hopping up onto the hood of the car, as he came around the other side. With no gentleness, he pulled your hips forward, looking down at you with a stern but needy look. Your hand reached out to his chest, following the contours of his defined muscles.

"This fucking dress-" he dropped to his knees, pushing his face between your legs and biting down hard on your inner thigh. You let out a squeal, and grabbed his thick head of hair, half in pain and half wanting more. He kissed up your thigh, heavy thick kisses that left you hot, as you pulled his head in closer. He lent back, pulling off your panties tortuously slowly, watching for your needy reaction the whole time, and dropping them to the ground next to him. He smiled to himself again, and then buried his face into your pussy.

You let out a desperate gasp, your legs clasping around his head as your body rolled back, looking for stabilization. His tongue pushed through your folds, lapping at your wetness. His hand went to your hip, gripping you tightly as he found his rhythm. A grin started to form on his face as he enjoyed your taste and noises of desperation, and you let your need for control disappear.

His tongue darted out to your clit, causing you to let out a needy gasp for more. He withdrew, his grin growing with his teasing, as he mumbled into you, "that good?"

You could barely reply, just a "mhmm" of confirmation.

"Come on, use your words", he pulled his head away and looked up at you, replacing his tongue with a long digit.

Oh that did it, you composed yourself, drawing on your last bit of pride, and swallowed down the growing desperation for his tongue to be back in you. It helped that you were able to momentarily remember what you really wanted out of all this. Looking back down at his now confused face, you replied, "are you gonna finally fuck me or what?"

He shot you a sudden hungry look. Standing back up straight he grabbed your hip, pulling you towards him and off the front of the bonnet. You landed unsteadily as he spun you around so your front was facing the car. His hand found the center of your back, pushing you down heavily, your jaw colliding with the hard metal. A sharp pain shocked through your face, quickly replaced by the sensation of cooling metal. You should have known he liked it rough.

He pushed your dress up to your hips, giving himself a second to admire you bent over and having to bite his bottom lip to stop a groan escaping. He gave your ass one quick sharp slap, before carefully rubbing it to stop any stinging as he roughly pulled out his cock. He lined himself up with your entrance, and you could feel his tip gently pressed against you.

A simple "Yeah?" caught in his throat was all he was able to get out.

"Yes!"

He pushed himself into you, his cock stretching you out, filling you up as you let out a wanting moan. You steadied yourself against the metal as he thrust into you, gaining speed, careless hands gripping your hips hard to keep himself balanced.

"You look so fucking good," he growled, pounding into you, "bent over with a cock in you. Christ- I'll never get over this image".

He moved one of his hands up to your hair, grabbing a tight fist full into a ponytail and pulling you closer, causing your back to arch further. You let out a gasping moan as he thrust deeper into you, causing your legs to shake.

"-and don't you just sound so fucking good." He groaned, giving your ass another sharp slap.

"Sam I'm gonna-"

"Wait-" he cut you off, his focus back on thrusting faster, pushing you further and further. You felt your orgasm begin to rise, knowing you could hardly handle another moment.

"Sammy seriously I'm gonna cum-" you begged, another moan escaping your lips.

"I told you to-" another deep thrust "-fucking wait". His tone was deep and in control, his animalistic groaning giving way to a man who wanted to make this last as long as he could. The sensation of his voice sent another wave through you, but you held off your orgasm, desperate to please him.

His thrusts grew deeper yet, a sharp exhale of breath on each one stopping him from moaning any louder, as he watched his cock drive into you. He bit his lip again, hard, as he watched your ass bouncing off of him, your pussy dripping wet and taking him so well. With you bent over the Impala, he wished he could continue this moment for a lifetime, but he felt his own orgasm on the brink of explosion.

"You wanna cum with me?" He moaned, his hand tugging at your hair in a tight motion.

"Please-"

He couldn't even let you finish before his hot cum shot out of him, sending his body shaking as it took everything in him to keep himself stood up. You felt as he continued to pound into you, allowing you to ride out your own orgasm, the sensation of his cum filling you only sending you more wild. Both of you gasped with hot, shaky breaths, the once consistent thrusting becoming messy and frantic, his grip on your hair and hip loosening.

He allowed himself one more deep thrust, enjoying the feeling of stretching you out along every inch of his cock before pulling out. He braced himself on the front of the car and composed himself, pulling his pants back up and doing up his fly in one quick gesture. You hopped off the bonnet and began to straighten out your dress. He chuckled lightly, a shit-eating-grin spreading across his face as he lent down to pick up your panties, holding them out to you on an outstretched finger.

"You're a gentleman", you stated sarcastically, rolling your eyes as you took them from him.

"Don't get used to it." He took a step back in order to draw you all in, his eyes once again darting up the length of your body, allowing himself to linger on your thighs and breasts. He closed the gap between you, hooking a finger below your chin and tilting your face up to look at him.

"Next time you wear that dress, I'm going to make you sit on my face for as long as I want, you understand?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Get back in the car we've got a long drive still to go."

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I've been rereading I Hate The New Hero over and over. I love it so much! But while I was reading chapter three again and an idea hit me.

What if, on his way over to the toy chest, Tim's foot caught on a floor board?

He's able to immediately recognize that this floor board looks as if it's been pulled up multiple times due to some wearing down along the edges. He thinks he's just found some super secret area where you keep something you don't want anyone to find. So he lifts the board.

And immediately sets the board back in place again, gently because he's having a dissociative panic attack. Tim goes to leave, gets confronted by reader's father, and gets shocked out of his episode when he calls you a slut.

Tim is grabbing this man's hand and twisting the guy into a police hold and pressing, pressing, pressing til the guy is on his knees, then with his forehead to the floor. The reason he doesn't just slam the man down is because it could wake you up. With as little noise as possible, the father is on the floor with both arms behind his back practically licking the dirty boards beneath them.

And Tim whispers -no hisses!- into the quiet of this tiny apartment.

"If I ever see, or hear, about you calling her that ever again, Gotham will keep finding your body. I'll even start with those rotten fingers you use to communicate. Do you understand me?"

The man was chocking on shock.

Tim wanted a fucking answer.

"I said, Do. You. Under. Stand. Me." Tim punctuated the sentence with violent shaking of this man.

Reader's father nods frantically.

Tim let's him go. Takes a step back. His chest is heaving in rage. How dare this low life talk about you like this?

(How hypocritical of him, Tim vaguely criticizes himself. After all, he would have probably joined in on mocking you, or just walked out the door, if he hadn't seen what was under the loose floor board.)

Tim is still seething.

"I understand why your throat was cut. You must have made enough enemies yapping lies as if they were true. It makes me sick to leave you with even one of your digits. Let alone, all of them. But [Name] would get stressed or cry if I hurt her family. So, until I can convince her to leave this hell hole, you will not sign or glare at her. Even once. And don't tell her about this. At all. I still need to get a room ready, and I can't have you spoil her surprise."

Tim knows he has JJ's smile right now. His manic eyes boring into the man. Who was trying to prop himself up or curl into a ball; Tim couldn't tell which. All that really mattered was the man was looking at him. Tim's body was jittering from holding back laughter.

Aranea's suit was the most damning thing he could probably find. Tim had to mull over whether to believe you were the hero he viewed as a sister, or if you were someone else entirely.

Of course, Tim hates the thought he treated his sister so awfully. But! There's the chance you're not her! Maybe you're her friend?

Oh! You have a scholarship for engineering. You make Aranea's tech.

Well, if that's the case, he can see about getting you away from here so you're able to make better gear. Which explains Aranea backing out of patrol tonight! If [Name] isn't there to be her person in the chair, Aranea probably didn't feel comfortable going out.

You're probably Aranea's friend on top of that. She may even think of you as a sister! After all, she probably trusts you with her identity so you could make the custom suit. And all her tech.

Which also means that all your supposed hate was just a way to disguise the fact that you know her.

Of course.

No one could actually hate the spider hero, she's too sweet.

So you're behavior was you trying to protect her.

Tim is manic with joy at being one step closer to getting to know his sister. If that means becoming friends with you, it won't be hard.

He forgets to tell Bruce.

Tim greets the reader warmly the next day, saying about how she's not so bad once he ignored her being mean about Aranea. He then makes a comment calling the reader a Tsudere.

Bruce still threatens the reader and Tim freaks out about her skipping school to help Aranea with a day patrol. He then finds out what Bruce and Damian did and spams them to apologize.

Holy shit, Aranea is probably pissed at the Wayne's now! First with Tim being hostile, then Bruce and Damian. They were picking on her tech engineer and Aranea had to go release steam from being so angry.

Him just furiously texting, explaining that he found out reader was the creator behind Aranea's tech and the hater behavior was to protect her identity.

But he's only texting them, not the group chat. So no one else knows. Jason goes to give the letter letting go her mother and Dick still pours ice water on her. Which Tim, Bruce, and Damian find out through the chat. And promptly lose it.

(Excuse me, I'm very out of it right now but still wanted to send this to you. Have a lovely day!)

I love this!! It's been in my inbox for a while and I keep reading over it and forgetting to respond 💔

When Y/N wakes up she'll be in for a shock, her dad is avoiding her??? The stuff in her floorboard is slightly skewed??? Oh... Lucky her.

Tim greets her warmly and acts oblivious? She's holding back her punch right now, the nerve he has.

Then, she slowly realizes, Tim isn't treating her like he does Aranea, something's different. Surely he can't be that dense, right?

I think eventually Y/N confronts him on it, asking him what he thinks the connection between her and Aranea is. When he answers Y/N's shoulders literally drop.

Tech.. Engineer..? That could work, she guesses. But, she doubts the theory will last for long - she can't be in two places at once.

[sapphicrot]

What do you think about Iterator puppets that have been altered from their original purpose or that have sort of.. add ons? 

A puppet can break. Period. That is a fact. But the rest of the Iterator would still need a consciousness focus point (?) or whatever granular place the puppet occupies within the Iterator, it doesn’t really matter. I have to imagine that the ancients didn’t just keep a room full of spare puppets sitting around within the can; so what’s a robot to do?

Well, I think they’d mash neutral terminus engines and processing cells and whatever else they could get onto the preexisting (broken) puppet. 

(By “they” I mean the iterators, not the ancients, as this would only become an issue when time has degraded the iterators enough for it to be a factor)

So then what do you have? An amalgam of a puppet, it could be as minor as a broken arm replaced with an extra processing device or weird tentacle thing or as major as a completely broken puppet that is just kept going by mechanical cystic growths holding their body together…

Why could a puppet not be altered/alter itself if its purpose was shifted after construction? Puppets were highly sacred to the ancients and each one was unique… hence if an iterator was reassigned from say… biological research to karmic eddy surveying. What then? One obviously requires different equipment from the other; and I’d like to think that carries over to the puppets too. 

This is completely headcanon stuff here, but I like to think that puppets are more variable than we really see in game; with extra ports or connections or limbs as befits their secondary purpose. (Besides the great problem of course!) 

So then what happens if that purpose changes… 

Well just like if a puppet breaks, I think the iterator would have to make do and cobble together parts. I’m imagining a boxy relay stuck onto the puppet by dangling wires; adapters out the wazoo, etc. really why stop there… why not have an Iterator who has become so engrossed in their task that they have almost drowned the puppet chamber in hanging wires, the puppet itself just being a sort of… nexus for the surrounding nightmare tangle.

(This started because I’m finally making an Iterator oc and had the idea that they were adapted to be a satellite control relay, part of which means that a big box was attached to the puppet to serve as a adapter between their “brain” and the controllers)

plus I know you seem to think of them as more ornamental, but I’d still like to hear have thoughts on my weird ramble… I think you are a good mind as far as Iterators go

ok bye, sorry if this is incoherent, I was just spitballing really

IM FINALLY COHERENT ENOUGH TO REPLY TO THIS 🎉🎉🎉 I am sick rn and CANT FUCKING PLAY RAIN WORLD. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? NOW OF ALL TIMES?? oh well, at least i get to answer this now :D

This is really cool!! As far as the puppets go for me, their purposes are 3 fold: to act as a comprehensible “face” for the iterator to interact with their citizens, to use as a hub to process information, execute instructions, and direct the flow of data within the structure. Basically, a CPU! And considering the walls around their chamber in the game literally resemble one, I’d think the analogy is at least a little plausible. And of course there are different CPU designs, so puppet variation seems to be a given.

(more below cuz this is gonna get kinda long)

Despite how I focus more on the ornamental purposes of a puppet, I do think it is a VERY integral part of an iterator for like, actually being able to do their job. The pearls within their chamber are read and written by said puppet, so it manages data storage and memory. They can also format neurons, as seen by Moon, and in order to wake her up, we had to give the slag reset keys to her puppet specifically. While I have no doubt an iterator could manage without a puppet, I think it would be significantly more challenging for them.

I don’t think their chambers are like, static closed boxes. Iterators definitely move more than we see in game, since we see that Pebbles literally ejects out a memory conflux room into garbage wastes and also the Lab rooms in memory conflux seem to be on rails. Also The Rot region gives us a glimpse at other portions of his can, since we’re seeing a 2-D space so it’s hard to imagine the different “layers” of rooms and stuff, but in RM_LOCKDOWN you can see these weird claw like things moving shit around, but they’re frozen in time from breaking down before they could…lockdown the area around Pebbles’ puppet from the rot. So I think they have some way or another to get shit in and out of their chambers, since obviously they can rearrange other bits of their can, and we can find a pearl all the way out in Moon’s memory conflux and it had to get outta there somehow. It was a batch of notes, so her puppet probably interpreted the data she was receiving from her hardware and sent it to long term memory storage.

The cilia that line the walls of an iterator’s insides are probably some kind of exposed nerve ending that send signals from the short term data, ie their neurons. The neurons interact with them often (and make that cute little VWOOP! noise, hehe) so we can assume that they’re sending info through these nerves to either be interpreted by the puppet. These nerves probably send data into the umbilical wires, or through some bluetooth type shit like moon.

“With my umbilical cord broken I can't operate my structure directly, but with them working as messengers I've been restoring some of my chamber's functionality!”

- Moon, Rivulet Dialogue after the Rarefaction Cell has been placed

So based on this we know the umbilical is used to communicate with the rest of the structure and send signals in order to direct its operations. However,

“Most of our processing is outsourced to microbe strata”

- Shoreline Bright Purple Pearl (Moon)

While this seems to imply that the puppet isn’t actually doing much of the processing, I think this is actually more of a conscious vs subconscious thing. The microbe strata are like a brain stem, which in humans is responsible for heart rate n breathing n shit. The puppet is meant for higher conscious thought. So the puppet is pretty central to their body as a whole.

The umbilical probably connects to all those little cilia in the walls, like if we lifted up the panels of a structure’s walls we’d see a network nerves, with long axons and the dendrites are likely exposed out of the walls or whatever. Maybe even a mycelium type structure, remember how they found out mushrooms can kinda communicate through those?…Does this make any sense lol

So how is moon able to use overseers to direct her can? Well, they seem to have those same cilia tendrils at the end of their bodies! They can transfer data between themselves with the same kinda animation as the neurons, so why wouldn’t they be able to transfer instructions to parts of her structure? Like sending instructions to an immune cell to begin a repair process. I also think Moon communicates with the overseers when she does that animation where she sits in the center of her chamber and her neurons go in a circle and do that bloop thing, much like how she would sit in the center of her chamber while reading a pearl, (in spearmaster) since it takes concentration. And she probably has to concentrate very hard to send those signals with such weak equipment.

Also cute lil side tangent: the neurons bloop green when she does this, which I think is a nod to the slag reset keys. Honestly the neurons themselves might have straight up been Sig’s originally, because where the hell did those neurons even come from. There’s no way they survived the collapse, right? Cuz if they did why aren’t there anymore, yknow? Anyways they might literally just be Sig’s neurons but reformatted, since Pebbles mentions everything “suggests it was tailored for the specific predicaments of a friend of mine.”, so the neurons were formatted for Moon.

UH ANYWAYS. Obviously we need to keep in mind that they are both biological and mechanical beings, so I don’t literally mean brain cells or wires or whatever, it’s just me using words humans can use to describe them yknow. So of course I do think that there are differences in puppet design and even chambers (cough PIn cough), so extra wires or even extra hardware within the chamber is absolutely possible.

So how the fuck do iterators perform experiments, or make shit? You know I headcanon Sig as a medical facility. This means her can layout would be different from Moon or Pebbles’. Hunter actually explains this to Monk in my apple juice fic (god i’m so sorry that i keep bringing it up and haven’t worked on it in months), but basically, Sig’s structure has more labs, and more security between said labs because he’s often working with viruses and stuff that are dangerous to its citizens or even itself. But for a specific example: Sig making Hunter. I believe the process would be:

-> Puppet interprets info gathered (ie Suns fucking up, moon is in danger, conclusion: make new messenger). Obviously this is just. A thought process LOL like a human would have.

-> Puppet sends instructions to a lab/area of the can that is suitable for growing biological material.

-> Some microbes or even smth similar to those weird spider things in the memory lattices or something initiate the growth process. They funnel nutrients and material to build cells and organic parts. This probably involves a lot of vats of goo LOL.

-> Puppet monitors the experiment, probably via those blue cilia again, and direct it as needed. Like, once Sig is alerted that a cluster of cells has formed, she’ll have it transferred to another nutrient bath, by way of tubes/pipes or having some protein move it (yknow how muscle proteins actually move and “walk” along chains of proteins? They strut real cunty btw), or like idk something else picks it up and transfers it.

-> Once Hunter was finished/“born”, she could be monitored via overseer, or some inspector type organism, and should Sig want to bring her to his chamber, they could carry her there:

“They also facilitate long distance communication within our living systems.”

- Moon, Inspector Eye Dialogue

I’m like 99% sure that Hunter was brought to Sig’s chamber at least once considering in her ending cutscene she knows what Sig looks like. Not to mention Spearmaster’s end screen shows it snuggling with Suns so like, there is definitely a way to get those things in their chamber.

For a less intensive experiment like transferring a pearl, a pipe or something (maybe even smth resembling intestines that moves it along that way with contractions) could be used. The fatter red wires that make a gross squishy sound when you grab them could be used, maybe? There are also just TONS and TONS of tubes and pipes in the background. The panels/screens in the backgrounds of their chambers can be lifted up and will expose the opening of said tubes, which is why they’re broken up into panels in the first place. There is also probably some kind of immune barrier (sorta like the blood-brain barrier in humans), in order to protect the puppet. (I only think the scugs were carried there because they’re more fragile and also probably would not appreciate being shoved in a pipe LOL)

DM_MEM01

DM_MOONCHAMBER

(also excuse my handwriting, also pebbles has this exact same “plug” thing at the bottom of his chamber)

I know a lot of iterator bits seem very rigid but there ARE squishy organic parts, (considering the noise those fucking red strands make when you grab them) so we can make the assumption that perhaps some of those tubes and shit could be lined with more organic-y stuff.

Uhh oh god this became more of a rant about iterator cans than iterator puppets. BRO WHY CANT I FOCUS.

Back to the original fucking question I could definitely see an iterator with extra shit in their chamber, needing extra wires to receive more signals or adapters. Puppet repair however…I do think they might be able to regrow parts, or at least rudimentary ones. Like how Sig and Suns grow slugcats. Maybe in a lab and they’re transferred over or maybe during some kind of rest period. These replacement parts might not be as good as the originals but I don’t think they’d be completely fucked. Their citizens probably kept spare parts around at least, maybe not entire puppets, but also I don’t really know how much damage they’d incur unless something went horrifically wrong. They are full of self-healing microbes, after all, so wear and tear of normal use is probably not going to kill them. The one part I’m not sure about is the using other parts to repair their puppet. Salvaging stuff from their can like neural terminus engines or other parts could impair their function as a whole, thus making the puppet more vulnerable to future complications, though I don’t think one or two modifications like that would kill them lol. They very likely have a million redundancies and backup parts since repairing iterators would be costly and even dangerous if something deep in their can was broken.

Puppet damage is very bad though. Their ability to move around their chamber seems to be integral to being able to actually function, so a puppet that’s just trapped in place would be a VERY dire, life support type situation. If they can’t reach pearls, or move to send them out of their chamber, their long term memory would probably be in the trash. I think post-Riv moon has to simply make do with her neurons, and a lot of their storage is filled with memories she does not want to forget (ie. Hunter or Riv), since she seems to be able to recall them when talking to Saint. Hell, they might also just have a larger storage capacity since they either came from Pebbles (a newer model) or *maybe* Sig, still a (likely) newer model. (I don’t think it’s ever confirmed he’s younger than her but considering what we know about their dynamic and Moon’s demeanor in general I think it’s a plausible conclusion to come to).

But yeah!! I can’t wait to see ur iterator oc so I can send u silly rp asks >:) I hope this was in ANY WAY coherent bc I am kinda sick so this might straight up be completely incomprehensible.

——

OH!! Also this is mildly off topic but this is my yapping and I get to talk forever and ever. But I also think the puppet is meant as an identity as well. Like a face for them, to give them a sense of self. However some iterators are more attached to their puppets as “themselves” than others.

(blocked out message is my friends’ oc)(also these are tupperbots NOT fuckin ai, i’m the one writing all this it’s just using a proxy for rp purposes)

As you can tell Opportunity is not very attached to her puppet and sees “herself” as her structure. The puppet of an iterator is. Basically just another organ in a way. Like, I feel like some iterators would feel the same way we feel about like, our nose. It’s not us it’s just a part of us. But others might see it as their face, and heavily identify with their puppet’s appearance. My little headcanons are (based on my own interpretations of them, so some of this is heavily steeped in my own lore that i’ve just made the fuck up):

Moon: Pre-collapse she’s less attached to her puppet, but post-collapse she really begins to see it as herself, since it’s all she has access to. She also gestures with her puppet and uses it to communicate not just through voice.

Suns: Attached to xier puppet and is kinda embarrassed about it. They’re involved with their citizens’ affairs and since their citizens place his identity on his puppet, he does too. Not super expressive with movement aside from hands, fidgets when nervous.

Sliver: Doesn’t care, her puppet is a tool.

Opportunity: As you can tell, does not consider her puppet as “herself” and thinks those who do are too attached to the world. They have a job to do and that’s it.

Indigo: He likes his puppet. They don’t mind being seen as it.

Wind: His self-image is absolutely his puppet, and even when thinking about others he sees them as their puppets too. Specifically in the rot au, he attacks sig right after the whole sliver thing, which ultimately wouldn’t technically hurt her but it’s more of a symbolic thing.

Sig: Sees herself as her puppet! Considering he accessorizes it, like the scarf or whatever ribbon that it’s decorated with canonically kinda points to this? Like the others just wear simple cloaks but his is like, slightly “fancier”! Also obviously in the rot au his identity is heavily tied to her puppet. The goofy lab coat get-up is not his only outfit and she kinda just wears it for shits and gigs. It’s a doctor after all, gotta look the part!

PIn: Kinda has no choice but to see themself as their puppet, rip. The heavy emphasis placed on it by their citizens reinforces that sentiment.

Yui: Her puppet serves cunt just like she does. She uses it to gesture a lot, not just her arms or anything but like the whole puppet. Spinning, moving across the whole chamber, etc (sig does this too)

Light: Tries not to see themself as their puppet simply to “abate the self” or whatever. It is a part of their identity but not the whole. They do talk with their hands a lot tho

Pebbles: He sees *others* as their puppets but not himself as much. He’d still probably be sad if it was replaced with a metal box or something tho.

wow this got off topic. i’m sorry you have to read 3000 words of shit that barely answered ur question HAHAHAHA

[itsnotamatterofif]

Loving the Slick love in my ask box today!!! I went with a little scene between Momma and Slick for this one, post the final race. In my head Slick has kind of the Ignored sibling vibes, but her motivations other than ‘money’ aren’t very clear.

Hope you enjoy!

✨Do you want a mini fic? Send me an ask!✨

It's going to be a long night.

Whilst everyone else is out partying and celebrating Rusty's stupidly triumphant win, Slick is alone. Hiding in the maintenance shed, drill in hand, she's instead adamantly focused on the painful joints that had become loose following the crash with Greaseball and Electra. Those two got whisked off to safety immediately, but of course no one at this god-forsaken, stupid, annoying yard had bothered to ask the tanker-

She huffs in annoyance as the drill slips out of her hands again. Why the engineers had to make their tools so fucking tiny she would never know.

With a curse and a groan, she heaves to her wheels, bending down to pick up the drill. This is the second time this has happened now, and to be absolutely honest if she drops it a third time it would be the absolute cherry on this awful cake of a day.

“Here, baby, let me help.”

She jumps back suddenly, apparently too lost in her own thoughts to realise someone had entered too. With a glance upwards, her vision is filled with a figure that is undeniably Momma, and any shock in her system fizzled away into annoyance.

“Piss off Steam train,” she snaps, grabbing the drill and retreating back to her bay, “I can handle this myself-“

“‘Steam Train’?” Momma repeats incredulously, and the fact that she is not only still here but also smiling makes Slick want to scream, “damn, one bad job and it’s like your first day at the yard again - believe it or not, Miss Slick Oil, I came here to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m fine,” Slick grumbles quickly, “doesn’t Rusty need you or something? I’m sure you’re due a speech about the power of steam anytime now.”

“He can wait,” Momma says easily, and with a creak and a groan, situates herself on the bay next to slick, “looks like you got pretty banged up there.”

Slick can’t help the grunt of frustration - why won’t this fucking engine leave her alone? “Ain’t nothing I can’t handle.”

“Was this following your little tangle with Greaseball?”

She can feel Momma’s eyes on her, expectant and perceptive.

“Yeah,” she finally admits, the whir of the drill filling the shed for a second as she screws a loose bracket into place, “Electra took the brunt of it though - you should have seen how smashed up their stupid little chest screen got, it was great-“

“I’m sure it was.” Momma’s tone is even, loaded with patience - considering the fact that she’s been taking care of all the trucks and Rusty for god knows how long, Slick’s surprised at just how much patience she has left. “Slick, baby, why’d you do it?”

Like ice in her fuel pipes, Slick knows exactly what Momma’s on about. Why she sabotaged Rusty, threw the entire final whilst convincing Lumber and Porter to work against their friend, and why she was more than happy to leave Rusty to the mercy of the engines.

She knows why, of course. The empty space where solid bullion should be under her loading bay won’t let her forget, as well as the messages of anger from the various bookies and sponsors she’d been rigging the game for. All of this for a way out of this dead end yard, to get somewhere she’d be actually useful for once, or be able to race with proper engines, not jumped up ego cases like Greaseball and Electra, and not have to deal with the stupid coaches anymore.

Or stupid Rusty, who was actually nice to her sometimes, or the stupid trucks, who were quite useful in her various escapades.

She didn’t think Hydra was capable of hatred, too oblivious to the world to be capable of negative emotions, so the look of sheer disappointment before the downhill race was unexpected.

“Cash,” she admits simply, setting to work on wedging a fuel pipe back into place, “if I’d had pulled it off proper, and your little pet project hadn’t put ideas in Rusty’s head, I’d be set for life.”

“And what would you have done with that cash, Slick?” Momma asks. Slick wants her to be angry - she was expecting fire and brimstone from the old steamer, not patience, and the whole thing is just making her angrier.

“Gotten out of here, for one,” Slick starts with a humourless, dry laugh, “gone somewhere sunny - I’m sure an airport in paradise somewhere needs an A1 tanker, I know people who’ll convert me.”

Momma hums thoughtfully, considering Slick’s answer as if it wasn’t some hasty excuse. “Kid, this ain’t easy-“

“What ain’t easy?” Slick shouts, teeth bared as every ounce of fuel left in her surges and boils with rage - she thought she was prepared for this, prepared to tell the rest of the yard exactly where they can shove it, but apparently not, “kickin’ me out? Telling me to fuck off? I’ll tell you, it’s gonna’ be damn easy - I knew it was comin’, and I wanna’ be out of here as much as you wanna’ see the back of me, so fuck off out of here with that fake pity, it’s-“

“It ain’t easy to apologise, Slick,” Momma interrupts, and Slick feels shock hit her like a cold front. Momma is looking sorrowfully down at her clasped hands, lips bared in a tight line. “I never did do right by you, and I’m sorry about that - if this is because of anything me or the boys did-“

“No, no it ain’t,” Slick mutters, and as the rage begins to seep out of her like sludge, embarrassment fills its place, “I just- I feel trapped here. All I do is follow around those jumped up engines, and they treat me like shit, I’m- I’m tired, Momma.”

Two large arms are around her like a flash, and before she can argue she’s tugged into the steamer’s side; it’s… it’s nice, the hug, nicer than she remembers them. Momma’s been spending most of her time recently making sure Hydra doesn’t blow, or trying to stop Porter and Lumber from blowing him up, she can’t remember the last time she had a hug. Against her will, she feels herself go lax, whatever fight she had draining, and instead she just aches.

“I understand if you still wanna’ leave, baby,” Momma says quietly, muffled slightly from where her face is so close to Slick’s hair, “but you know you’ll always have a bay and a safe place to rest here, and I swear by the Starlight that I will do better by you.”

Something in her throat is threatening to break if she opens her mouth to reply, so she grits her teeth and screws her face up to stop any rogue fuel leaks. She’s not sad, not angry, not pissed off, everything just kind of hurts now, and Momma’s arms are so warm.

“Let me know if I can help with anything,” Momma adds, and Slick can finally hear the smile in her warm tone.

“Sure,” Slick replies, simple and quiet, “will do.”

[hypernova-writes]

5:16pm [Spy]

Synopsis: you were getting used to being colorblind because of your lack of soulmate, until a small encounter with Spy reveals something that was right in front of you.

“Wait wait, So Ya tellin’ me you can’t even tell what team your on right now??”

“No Scout, I can tell that I’m on the RED team..you asshat.”

You pushed Scout as the two of you were walking back inside from a mission.

You were used to this sadly, all throughout your world was made up of measly black and whites, only being able to tell bright from dark. When you became a mercenary, you used this as a distraction from the fact that you didn’t have a soulmate.

“Ahh ya never know! It might be one of the mercs! I didn’t know Snipes was mine cause he never likes eye contact!” “Scout, I’m pretty sure Y/n knows that already.” Sniper chimed in as he walked up behind the two of you..

“There’s more than just eyecontact Scout, some people have to actually touch their soulmates.” “Oh! Well I must’ve gotten lucky!”

“I wouldn’t call it Lucky with you.” You muttered making the male nudge you in response. You only shrug as the three of you finally made into the common room.

You had long given up on it, getting used to the world as you saw it, though you wished you could be able to see the colors in the drawings Pyro made for you. Or be able to help out Engineer more..or be able to avoid slipping in blood whenever you went to see Medic.

You sigh and went to read a book of yours, when Scout kept talking on.

“So…how do you tell the rainbow colors apart?” “By the brightness and darkness of it, and by the order..” “So can you tell what color this is?” “Scout-”

“I think she’s done with your stupid games, boy.”

You jolted before turning to see Spy standing there, it seemed to have spooked Scout too. “AHH! What the fuck!? Learn to announce your presence Sneak!”

Spy only rolled his eyes before he beckoned for you to come with him. “Come with me, Y/n. I have intel for the next mission you’re on with me.” You nodded and went to wave to Scout who only rolled his eyes at Spy before waving bye to you.

You followed Spy, this was a normal thing between the two of you. You would often work together, and you got along with him well, and hell, you would dare say you were the closet with him. Afterall, not many of the mercs get to come into his room. Spy was an enigma to you.

He would compliment you, he was nicer to you than he was with the other mercs.

Sometimes he would flirt with you in a way that would have your heart fluttering and make your vision blurry.

Sometimes…it made you think?…Could it be him?

You snapped out of your thoughts as He held the door open for you and you walked in, taking a seat on the chair, you hummed as you watched him gather some paper work before walking over to hand it to you.

“This shouldn’t be so hard, after all, we are probably the closest thing to a perfect pair this base has..” He says as he hands the file to you. You chuckle and accepted it from him, his hand brushing against his for just a moment.

But that’s all you needed.

You felt a sudden headrush before dropping the documents, placing you hands on your head. You cursed softly before you slowly raised your head, taking in your surroundings.

“Are you alright…Mon amour?”

You eyes flicked over to Spy who had moved behind you, you looked up into his eyes, seeing they were…blue.

“Wait..Wait wait..” You stood up, looking around his room, taking in the colors, the soft browns, the way that they orange flames of his candles flickered and gave a soft hue in the room.

“Are you?..” “It seems I am.” Spy finished your sentence before he walks over to you, grabbing your hands and caressing them. He smirks softly as he leans closer to you. You could finally see the deep red balaclava he wore that matched the suit. You could see the stubble on his chin as he leaned closer to you.

He chuckles as he brings your lips to his, and you couldn’t help but melt into his grasp, you felt another spark surge through your body, and you saw your world get brighter, the colors bursted with life as he finally pulled away.

“Wait..so that means..” “Mhm. I couldn’t see colors either. You are correct.”

“Then How?-” “…Now why would I reveal my secret, Mon amour?” He chuckles as he pulls you even closer. “Just know..I knew you were supposed to be mine from the moment i laid eyes on you.”

You blush as he places his hands on your hips.

“And now my world is crystal clear..”

GAHHH I HAD A DREAM LIKE THIS AND I JUST WANT TO BE WINED AND DINED BY THIS MANNNNNNN

[gears-twisting-and-turning]

Lol, I have a bit of an odd one for you. What if the electric's fell in love with a human reader 🤔. I don't really have a prompt for it other than the electric's would probably be mortified at first after realizing they are, in fact, falling for a human. It's really up to you if they have this huge high difference of not, or they might be able to change their height to be dig or small somehow. It's all cute in the end, regardless 😘.

You know I was going to fully finish these yesterday and then a whole ass situation happened and I'm tired of it grandpa, ANYWAYS

Honestly to make this spicy I made this with the thought of the trains being much bigger than people in mind. Because I think that’s fun :]

I hope you enjoy <3 this is the last request for a while as I'm going to put my attention more on commissions and making ads in a way for those commissions because I need money desperately <3 :D

---

Electra

A little conflicted at first….

I mean she’s into this tiny thing? How will that even work? How are you going to give her the attention and affection she deserves?

Honestly for this entire thing I’m going to picture you as a mechanic. So you’re close with all of the engines and components, especially since you expertise in the repair and such of electric trains.

That’s how Electra realizes, you can give him everything he wants. You know him very well through all of this, yes he has Wrench, but since there are official check ups (much to Wrench’s dismay) you do get to know him very well.

In the end he’s the one that confesses to you and such. You’re a bit surprised due to him being a giant train, but hey he’s hot as fuck so you say okay and you just kind of deal with him using you as a small stuffed animal.

Just because you’re so small to them, that doesn’t mean that you will manage to get away from their affections. They’ll give you just as much as the rest, even if it’s a bit difficult for them.

Wrench

Surprised at herself that she fell for a human, then again the way you work makes her kind of just stare longingly. She is surprised and then notes she shouldn’t be surprised.

Either way would keep quiet about it for a very long time, after all Wrench doesn’t really know how to go about this. She doesn’t know if you’re into huge anthropomorphic trains. 

As well is not the person to ask you for things like that, because it’s none of her business and also there’s no way to subtly do that really. Eventually to ‘get rid of her feelings’ she decides to just throw it out.

And then you end up actually accepting her feelings??? Okay not what she was expecting, but she is certainly not complaining about it. It’s kind of a learning curve for her as she has no idea where to begin with a human.

But Wrench is notorious for being a fast learner. She does actually pick up normal nurse stuff as well so she can properly take care of you as well as the machines that she’s taught to care for.

Just like the rest, her first priority is your health and so by learning about the human body, she might not easily be able to patch you up since it would be like patching something up on a doll. She still manages to figure out how she can help you.

Killerwatt

Really confused. He’s already bad at feelings and now he has feelings for a human. Someone so squishy and… vulnerable. Nevermind he understands now, he just has this big feeling to protect you and he likes feeling useful, so it’s not that much of a surprise 

He doesn’t really know what to do with himself though. Should he confess? That just seems like a dumb idea, somehow. He doesn’t know how to explain it, but he just doesn’t know what exactly to do.

I think he will not confess to you, I think you’re the one that has to take that initiative. Otherwise neither of you will most likely get together, but here you are pouring your feelings out to this giant security truck.

He is positively shocked that you would like him like that. Although it was welcome.

From then on he’s extremely protective over you. So just imagine someone trying to go up against you and then this giant anthropomorphic train just suddenly stands behind you, just towering over you and this person, shadowing the both of you.

You get insulted? Oh look a colossal is here to beat their ass. That’s crazy.

Obviously it isn't lethal in it, but he takes his job extremely seriously. It’s about you after all. It’s his entire world. 

Volta

She’s always found humans fascinating. They’ve made things like trains and machines with feelings like them and yet they are so…. dumb…? Is that the world for it?

Either way it’s not really a surprise that she takes interest in this human. After all it’s one of the experts on electric trains and they were charming, had an interesting personality as well as their interests. She couldn’t help herself, they had to get to know this caring human.

And to say it simply, she did. She got closer to you and fell for you hard.

He’s kind of annoyed just how easy you made it seem for someone like him to fall for someone, but he guesses he can’t fully complain as it was his own fault getting close to someone so attractive to him.

They’ll deny it for a while though, like a long while. Eventually they’ll realize that this crush isn’t easily shaken and since you’re a human and probably don't think of getting a crush on a train, he’ll just…. get rid of the feelings.

That’s when you actually decide to accept his feelings, which just makes her confused and look at you with a look of disbelief. 

Very quickly recovers though, because she scored you as a partner? Good enough for her. She hates feelings and crushes so the fact that’s at least over and can devote herself to you without it feeling weird somehow is perfect for her.

God she hates crushes, you’re hers now though <3 And you can’t do much to make her change her mind. 

Joule

Oh this girl would be so into this. Usually she goes for impressive big engines or people that have big personalities and stuff. Her go to in types are usually big and loud or something similar.

That is unless she gets to know someone and even though they’re quiet they’re impressive. And then she meets you and you’re just… so small. Such a lil guy, hi there baby <3

Yeah she doesn’t take you seriously at first, like at all. You’re just so little, you might be good at what you do and she won’t minimize that, but you’re just a little squish, what are you going to do if a big bad engine gets angry once?

And then she once sees you practically wrangle Electra to the mechanic table when they’re once having a temper tantrum with like a lasso almost, just full cowboy style and she- ehm immediately falls in love? Yea.

She falls kind of really hard. Such a small little thing and yet so much spice and strength in a way. Maybe with the help of machines sure, but you are strong. It makes her gush and all.

Unlike the rest though this girl is extremely impulsive and would just almost immediately confess to you, telling you her feelings and not giving a shit if anyone looks weird about it.

Absolutely overjoyed when you say yes and absolutely loves giving you affection even if she has to be reminded to be careful with you sometimes.

Also I hope you’re ready constantly being carried either on her shoulder or in between her tits. That shit is comfortable, it's like a big pillow. Also yall know that sound of “What’s in your pocket?” “Oh it’s Jake :)” that’s you and Joule 

Null

Honestly I feel Null would be one of the ones that would be actually kind of shamelessly flirting with you. He really doesn’t give a shit if you’re a human, train or plane for what he gives a shit about. 

She’s interested in you and so she’s going to show it, no matter how small you are in comparison, if anything it makes it better for her. Honestly just imagine her laying on her stomach with her legs kicking behind her with a smirk as she listens to you prattle on about your knowledge on certain things.

Honestly you learn to love their company and grow to crave it whenever they’re gone. Eventually the two of you are together and it kind of slips from his lips. They almost immediately slap a hand over their mouth and start rattling off to save themself, but it was too late.

With a dazzling smile you accepted their feelings and the two of you started dating.

Don’t think that just because you’re a human that they will expect any less attention and affection from you than normal. Oh no he’s going to want all of it like always, no matter how busy you are with work.

At least he’s somewhat of a nice distraction sometimes and hey look at the bright side sometimes he actually shuts up while you do your work! It’s a miracle and a blessing all in one :D 

Krupp

Would actually be so terrified that he’ll accidentally kill you.

Like he gets a crush on you rather easily and then the moment it sinks in he just pushes it far far faaaar away where you’ll never be able to see it again, because if you two are in a relationship he could misstep and it’d be the end of you. 

It wouldn’t be that easy to do it, but he has a danger-ridden mind. Everything that is too much of a certain percentage of danger he won’t allow, he’s an armaments truck after all.

After a bit of coaxing from the others though, he manages to actually confess to you. It’s super stiff and still very unsure, but you welcome him with open arms. 

Honestly in the beginning to make him comfortable about it, you jokingly started wearing a cat bell on your belt or on a choker, so he can hear you coming and be cautious. Ironically this helped a lot to lessen his worries.

As well as everytime he now hears the little ring of bells he’ll get super excited and happy as he thinks of you or that you’re near. The rest have teased him endlessly when they see the demeanor change when they’re out and it was some other set of little bells.

You don’t see it easily, but he’s super in love with you and will absolutely protect you till the end. Also I just imagine you sometimes hiding under his hat to do some work or hide from coworkers. I think it’s super cute :] 

Purse

Would be under the firm belief that even though he has a huge crush he’ll never admit it to you. That it will never work out, he’s a train, you’re a human, blah blah blah. Just think of every possible excuse you can think of for this and he’ll use it. 

Although he does like the fact that he’s bigger. It’s rather funny bc in my head this dumbass sounds like Veneer and so I imagine him doing the whole “I don’t want to kill the little guy.” And so that cracks me up-

Moving on though- 

Is one of the most stubborn about not confessing. Honestly you would have to do it and then like assure you want him about 50 more times, because yes you know that he’s a large anthro train, but you don’t care he’s fucking hot. 

Eventually gives it a try and realizes just how much he doesn’t mind the difference. Sure it’s a bit of a learning curve, but it’s almost as if two people from different cultures meet each other. 

He teaches you about the races they do and what’s often seen as normal in train culture and you share your own culture’s rules that you practically abide by or don’t in that regard.

I feel like he’d just be a good learner when it comes to that, but all in all will absolutely love you no matter if you’re a small human and barely come to his lower calf properly 

[ruewrote]

𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠.

PAIRING: chloe price x fem!reader WARNINGS: no use of y/n GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: you by petit biscuit WORD COUNT: 635

navigation | ask | life is strange masterlist

you could hear chloe approaching before you saw her. the crunch of boots on gravel and the unmistakable sound of her humming some tune under her breath. you smirked to yourself, whole body shaking with excitement, hardly being able to contain yourself as you wait in front of the gleaming new truck, parked on the edge of the junkyard.

when chloe finally appeared, her brows knitted in suspicion. “okay, you’ve officially got me curious. what are we doing here?”

“patience, price,” you said, grinning. “i’ve got something for you, but i’m not gonna let you spoil it before it’s time.”

you stepped toward her, hands behind your back. “but first, i need you to trust me.”

she raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “oh? and how do i know you’re not gonna lead me into a trap?”

you laughed softly, stepping closer until you were right in front of her. “you’ll just have to take the risk.”

before she could protest, you gently reached up and placed your hands over her eyes, guiding her forward. “no peeking. just walk with me.”

chloe let out an exaggerated sigh, but you could hear the excitement in her voice. “this better be good.”

you led her carefully through the maze of scrap cars and rusted metal, feeling her hands grip your arm as she relied on you to navigate. each step brought you closer to the surprise.

“okay, we’re almost there,” you whispered, feeling her body tense slightly with anticipation.

“ready?”

she nodded, her breath catching. “yeah, i think so. lay it on me.”

you removed your hands from her eyes, stepping back as she blinked into the fading sunlight. the moment her gaze landed on the sleek, new truck parked in front of her, you could see the disbelief wash over her face.

“dude…no fucking way,” she whispered, eyes wide. “is this…?”

“yours,” you said with a grin, watching her reaction carefully. “happy birthday, chloe.”

she froze for a moment, staring at the truck like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. her hand reached out, fingertips grazing the hood.

“holy shit,” she muttered under her breath. “this is… this is seriously mine?”

“seriously yours,” you confirmed, leaning against the truck. “i’ve been working for months to save up for it. you’ve been through enough with that old deathtrap. i figured you deserve something better.”

chloe’s eyes widened even more and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. she stared at the truck, then back at you, her expression shifting from disbelief to something deeper, something overwhelmed. “you…you did all this? for me?”

you nodded, smiling softly. “yeah. every extra hour, every side job, it was all worth it to see you with something that’s actually reliable. something that feels like you.”

for a second, she just stood there, processing the fact that you’d gone through all that for her. her voice was quieter when she spoke again. “no one’s ever done something like this for me before. i don’t even know what to say…”

she looked at you, eyes filled with gratitude, something raw and real. without warning, she pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close, like she didn’t want to let go.

“you didn’t have to do this,” she murmured, her voice low and a little shaky. “i seriously don’t deserve this…”

you smiled, resting your chin on her shoulder. “i wanted to. you deserve it more than you know.”

she stepped back, wiping at her eyes with a quick, embarrassed laugh. “okay, okay. enough mushy shit. let’s take this beauty for a spin.”

you watched as she hopped into the driver’s seat, her usual bravado returning as she revved the engine. the smile on her face as she looked back at you,

 that's what made it all worth it.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[formulatrash]

What Hot Hatch* Should Every F1 Driver Have? Pt 1

*some of these cars are not technically hot hatches but they are, spiritually, hot hatches to ME and also car genres are meaningless shut up

Unfortunately because I have problems I allowed the group chat to commission me into writing this. I think you will be able to see the point where I really unleashed the thoughts that probably ought to be kept inside. Maybe I will keep Pt 2 to myself.

Max Verstappen - Honda Civic Type R This was tricky because we know the grid's resident cat dad is actually an SUV girly off the track. But he's also a brand loyalist and I'm fairly sure literally has had one of these as his factory car so it checks out that a car notorious for having a better engine than it did chassis would fit the Red Bull post-Newey meltdown. And if you need to go round a bunch of roundabouts there's really almost nothing rivalled to a Civic Type R.

Lewis Hamilton - og Nissan Leaf Yes, Lewis has never had any association to the Renault-Nissan alliance in his life but whatever he's leaving Mercedes. Think he's sort of forgotten about this but he did commit to only driving electric road cars awhile back and I will defend the Nissan Leaf with my LIFE as one of the most fun cars to drive. Nearly said the NISMO Leaf but actually the time I had a go in one of them it was insanely overbearing in a way someone used to having Bono to whine to wouldn't appreciate. The stripped down, basic, original is more than enough to fuck about in a multistory car park and I'm confident Lewis would immediately know what to do with it when next to a BMW at traffic lights.

George Russell - Williams Renault Clio This was actually what started it because I was introducing my beautiful wife to the groupchat and then considering which driver should throw some pocket money at it. Leaving aside the fact that if I was that rich there'd be a lockup in Monte Carlo full of the shittest mid-90s three-doors you've ever seen in your life, this car is perfect for George. It's got a legitimate heritage connection and it's a proper piece, something to look after. There's even matching sweaters for him and Carmen to wear in a sponsored post. And when he gets that look in his eye and starts clenching his jaw too much it's extremely good for doing donuts outside Carrefour.

Sergio Perez - Toyota GR Yaris No, I know he drives for a Honda works team but if they haven't fired him yet they'll probably overlook this. The GR Yaris is a bit of a North American legend because you can legally only get it in Mexico - they're not obtainable in the US. So this is an understated big dick move and maybe what Checo needs is to have a little obnoxious fun, y'know?

Charles Leclerc - Sbarro Super Eight Oh, Charles. Tied up in scarlet. In order to maintain his Maranello-chained brand suffering nothing but Ferrari's finest horsies could do but they're not really in the business of making mean little things to hoon. Unless you consider the driver academy, I guess. Anyway - the Sbarro Super Eight is a Ferrari 308 V8 engine in the body of the kind of vehicle you can get insured on under the age of 25. It has too much (260) horsepower, it's a little silly and deeply selfconscious. And like il predestinato there is only one in the whole world.

Carlos Sainz Jnr - VW Golf This isn't even a statement about what car he should have, this is a car he does have. Mr Sainz and I may disagree about many things but his opinion that the VW Golf is the ultimate road vehicle is absolutely correct. Anyone who's seen the excruciating DTS segment where he tries to take a McLaren to M&S for a disappointing taco mix purchase will understand why Carlos held on to his Golf, a much better vehicle for picking up some bits. In the words of the man himself: "No Golf, no party"

Lando Norris - Lancia Delta Integrale Mk 2 "la Perla" Anyone with my Instagram recommendations will know in quite some alarming detail which Monegasque petrol station Lando uses to fill up his collection of sports cars. Weird fan paparazzi behaviour aside, the man likes buying unique cars and clearly isn't above something quirky given the Fiat Jolly. The Delta Integrale "la Perla" 1) sounds a bit like a sex toy in a way I think he'd find amusing, 2) is rare, with a totally impractical pearlescent white paint job for something ostensibly intended to hoon. It's expensive, semi-unique (allegedly only a few hundred were made) and a little bit silly, with plenty of rally-proven power and drive to muck about with.

Oscar Piastri - Honda City Turbo Oscar seems like the kind of guy who doesn't care too much about appearances. Not in the sense he looks bad - he very clearly does not - but like, lot of rumpled shirts in his wardrobe he's not bothered about ironing, y'know. So it fits that he'd need a hot hatch that does the job more than it's about aesthetic. The things I know about Oscar are that he likes to spend time with his girlfriend and he learned Japanese at school so I'm diagnosing him with JDM import disease and making sure there's a passenger seat. The Honda City Turbo is a teeny weeny little car that only makes its way into being a hot hatch not a kei car because of the totally unnecessary powertrain. And what a fucking powertrain, straight from the Mugen division into the least likely chassis imaginable. Yes, the car is not the most ostentatious looking thing but it's technically interesting and sick as hell so whatever.

Zhou Guanyu - Renault Twingo 133 Silverstone edition Zhou is a man of immense taste and style. He has a great little cat. He is a national icon in his home country and, frankly, any other. He has spent a lot of his life in Sheffield. Aside from this making him basically an idealised form of bloke, I think this means I can entrust him with the Twingo. Not, it's got to be said, overpowered as a car in its base model (my Mk1 Twingo could boast a 0-62 measured in minutes) Renault have never been able to resist souping it up a bit and for some unlikely series of reasons made a sport version to tie into the 2011 British Grand Prix. I don't even want to know why, now, it's better that it stays a mystery. Anyway, this is a Twingo with unnecessary horsepower and live data feeds the Mk1 would probably have a misfire even considering. It's quirky, comes with plenty of backstory and y'know. Whomst amongst us hasn't been screwed around with by Renault a bit in the past?

Valtteri Bottas - the Suzuki Jimny The Jimny is a car of greats. Deceptively small, it works perfectly in a city or if you need to drive up a mountain to get to a gravel course. loads of room at the back for a bike rack. It's practical, a little odd-looking in a charming way and everyone's delighted every time they see one. You can definitely get your ass out in this vehicle. Is it a hot hatch? Probably not but you don't get to define how the Jimny lives its life.

[revelauver]

⌕ race review!   ֢֢֢ ◝﹝japan [ 04/06/25 ]

🏎️_⠀ mv1, ln4, op81, cl16, gr63, ka12, ih7, lh44, aa23, & ob87 are the quali top 10!

in the words of 4 time wdc and suzuka gp 2025 racewinner max verstappen: "fuck me this is boring, should have brought my pillow"

suzuka was a snoozefest, all of the excitement happened in quali

nevertheless, lets recap the little we have to work with:

alex was having a whole nervous breakdown the entire race over the gear shift and apparently he brought it up before this weekend and it went unaddressed? alex rip but thank u for the 20 seconds of team radio tea

ollie bearman in the points in the sexy sakura tractor, but i need him to be back on a track easier for overtaking. i missed the ciaos 😭 the piastri "cheeky" radio was the closest thing we got to that level of cunt

isack is endearing himself to me too quickly i fear 😔 after seatbelt-gate and his seat literally getting DETACHED in the race he pulled off a p8 finish and scored his first points!

the f1 commentators are about 2 saucy giggles away from getting sued by lawrence stroll for defamation ehsejs lance was catching strays the entire race

yuki passed liam (yesss), stayed under the radar, and finished higher than he started w dotd. i'm just glad bro was able to stay in the race 😭🙏

lewis and charles not happy with their engineers what else is new

charles was leading a whole separate race 💀 that ferrari is so far off the pace. i wonder what would happen if the mercs were ahead of him. do ygs think they would be any closer to the top 3?

speaking of the top 3...

max verstappen SWEEP he was flawless this weekend. so flawless i have nothing to say about him 🧍‍♂️ except championship back on???

now we need to talk abt MCLAREN because istg do any mclaren fans possess an IOTA 🤏 of critical thinking???

i say this as a piastri girlie ✋ a position swap was not the right move imo, and i'm glad mclaren didn't invoke the team orders to do so. my hatred of papaya rules goes both ways!

oscar and lando kept flip-flopping between who was faster, but neither of them had the pace to catch max. it's unlikely oscar passing would have made a difference in the race results. plus at the time of the team radio (at least, the time f1tv played it bc the radio broadcasts are always delayed), lando was saving his tires so oscar was under the impression that lando was slower than he actually was

godd mclaren pitwall pls communicate for once in ur lives!

i wonder what would happen if they pitted lando first? maybe it rly was best to pit lando second bc if the stop had been just a little faster he could have passed max for the lead leaving the pits?

speaking of the pitlane i can't believe the closest thing to a "battle" happened in there lmao. i know max and lando are going to be laughing abt that later but max would have exceeded pit lane limits if he moved lol? he was in the right there

okayy now lets talk about my race highlight: KIMI ANTONELLI! youngest-ever race leader 🥹 youngest-ever driver to score a fastest lap 🥹🥹 and finished 1s behind his experienced teammate 🥹🥹🥹

i know he must have been stressed asf when he was leading the race w lewis freaking hamilton right behind him 💀✋ considering how nervous he'd been feeling around suzuka BUT GUYSS HE DID SUCH A GREAT JOB I'M SO PROUD

only person who's prouder than me rn is bono 🙏💕 they are such a cute duo

sry guys yapping was not kept to a minimum due to the average iq of mclaren fans being lower than the number of carlos sainz track investigations this race 🙄

like you guys have two incredible drivers so enjoy their talent and the fact that they can race one another!!

anyways kimi antonelli wdc i've seen enough 🙌

contact me @ ⠀꒱⠀ . ⠀ 1-800-hot-n-fun ⠀ —— ⠀ ✧ !

[twilightkitkat]

I'll have you know that I am heavily considering writing something based off of your latest Time travel idea. It is already in my list. Because I genuinely cannot stop thinking about it

I love time travel as a concept and I'm honored you were inspired by my idea. I'm sure it'll turn out amazing, make sure to tag me when you finish it.

I'm considering what to write of my own. To be honest I've been a bit busy lately because my finals are in a week and I have a lot of things due and I've also had a lot of plans, but I want to get back into writing more consistently.

For the time travel idea, I think it'd be really interesting to consider his relationships with everyone. He avoids the X men with a passion, absolutely not wanting to get involved (especially when Logan isn't a part of them yet, he checked). Colossus isn't even an adult yet so he can't go bother him either...

His relationship with the Avengers is complicated. He's somewhat of a son to Tony, except for the fact he's much older than he claims and can take care of himself. He isn't as good with Tony at engineering, but he knows how to work with his hands and has brilliant ideas so he ends up hanging out in the lab anyway. Mainly to fiddle with random shit and offer insight that's a little too on the nose considering he only knows some programming (he starts to learn more, though).

With Cap, he's awestruck at first. That's his childhood hero, after all. But once the initial excitement wears off a bit he's able to work well with him, bouncing off his shield like a fucking boomerang and responding with witty quips. Steve grows fond of him pretty quickly.

As for the others, he interacts with them in his own way. He chats with Bruce (particularly about Gene editing, sue him) and has fun jumping up on the Hulk when they fight together. He gets along with Wanda and the Black Widow because he understands suffering and doing what's needed and he has this perspective beyond his years. He makes fun of Hawkeye and buddies up to Thor (mainly because he remembers that scene of him holding him in his arms).

Despite this, he avoids conversations about joining the Avengers. In this life, they actually want him. But also in this life, he has a better team he's waiting for.

[ravenna-reid]

I SEE RED

[ Part 3 to Crimson Red ]

TW: swearing and violence and maybe like one suggestive line

I'm beyond glad so many of you like this series!! This one is a lil longer, so I hope ya'll don't mind. Reblogs and comments are appreciated :)

˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁ ˖ ݁

You began to pull your arms away from Jason's waist, but not before his gloved hand quickly enveloped one of yours.

"What are you doing?" His hold was eager, his voice drowning out from the rush of the cars around you.

Rain continued to belt down onto you both, the chill settling deep into your bones.

"I'm gonna need both hands for this! Trust me!" You shouted through the helmet. Jason held onto you a second, hesitant to let go until he focused back onto weaving through the cars with his motorbike.

You and Jason had found out who that sniper was that shot your shoulder and wrecked Jason's apartment. And you both decided to pay him a visit and give him a little gift. Just a mean threat, a few bruises and broken bones here and there. That's all. Actually, you had left half-way to look at the snipers impressive collection of CD's, so you didn't really know what Red Hood did to him. You figured it would have been pretty gruesome given what the man had done to the Hood's apartment, but you didn't realise that Jason was bent on rage due to the fact that the man had shot you.

Now you were both speeding down one of the back streets of Gotham on the back of Red's motorbike. Four cars followed close behind, given the sniper had about a hundred men working for him. Too bad you could only use your abilities on two people at once.

Grabbing onto the grab handle on the back of Jason's seat, you managed to quickly flip around so that your back was against his and you were facing your pursuers. Gripping on tightly with your legs, you prayed you wouldn't fall off the motorbike as you raised your hands.

You could feel every bone. Every vein, organ and muscle. With one hand outstretched, you slowly turned the other. Then, with the slight tilt of your head, you felt the men driving the two cars closest to you struggling for air. Both of the black cars swerved, taking out one another. Two down.

You actually felt that you and Jason had the upper hand. Until you remembered the other cars and saw a man hanging out of one of them, submachine gun in hand. And before you could even raise your hands to snap his fingers, bullets began to rush towards you.

Jason immediately swerved off the road, collecting trash cans and other bits and pieces as he tore down the alley way. Usually, after a while, he'd be able to regain control of his motorbike. But with his mind on you and his arm instinctively reaching to grab you, his motorbike soon began to slide on its side before crashing into a nearby warehouse.

You and Jason sat there a second on the dilapidated motorbike, limbs aching and hearts racing. "Thank the Lord." You let out in a deep breath as you threw your helmet to the ground.

The crash wasn't that bad and you'd both experienced worse. Getting to his feet, Jason looked down at the crushed metal and torn leather and let out a long sigh.

"Fuck, I didn't mean to crash you." Jason continued staring down at it, hands on hips, as you gave him a dramatic pat on the back.

Engines revving and tires screeching. You and Hood both immediately looked down the street as the two cars raced towards you.

"Quick, get in the building." He urged.

You raced in and quickly enveloped yourselves in the darkness and waited. All there was was sound. The click of Jason loading his guns. The sound of yelling and car doors slamming outside. The drip, drip, dripping of a leak in the warehouse. You raised your hands, prepared to fight.

"Do you even know how to fight?" He asked.

You deduced that he must have night vision in his helmet.

"Yes," You hissed. "I did Krav Maga for a few years."

Jason smirked. "Think you could best me?"

"I'd certainly like to try."

The men, with their torches, knives and guns, suddenly stormed the building and your first goal was to wreck the one with the submachine gun. You effortlessly did so and he now lied on the ground writhing in pain. After dealing with a few more men you glanced over at Hood, impressed with his strength and marksman skills. But then it suddenly felt like lead was seeping into your bones and weighing you down.

There were too many men. You desperately tried the best you could. Hiding amongst the shadows and harming two at a time. But they were catching on, some of them starting to realise that you needed both your hands to perform your ability.

You took a strike to the face and doubled over. Red Hood seemed to as well, judging by the sound of his pained yell. Blood stained the cement ground around him as he held onto his ribs, a ghastly gash sitting on his skin beneath his suit. He put up a good fight, but men were kicking at him. One of the men picked up a disregarded crow bar. More were closing in on you.

Fear coursed through your veins like electricity. No, it was more like an itch running through your body. Something you'd never felt before and you couldn't explain. But you weren't about to stop and question it. Instead you closed your eyes and begged that what you were about to do would work.

You elbowed the guy that had one of your arms pinned back before quickly raising them. Slowly, they stopped in their tracks. One by one. Wincing, aching, grunting in pain. Something thick got caught in your throat, and you realised it was too much, but in that moment you didn't care. Your hands trembled as you pushed forward, performing your usual poses. The hold you had over them seemed to have a hold on you too. Because as you forced them all to their knees, you began to sink down to your knees as well.

Jason watched in disbelief and awe. The men were struggling. They were absolutely helpless. Blood began to trickle from their noses and the corner of their mouths. Some were beginning to cry. But you didn't stop until you knew Jason would be safe. Until they were all out cold. And that's exactly what happened.

Pride racked your chest as a dozen men laid before you. Silent and still. You looked over at Jason, a silly smile on your face, before crashing to the floor and hitting it hard.

"Crimson!" Although in pain, Jason made it to you in no time. He quickly pushed the wet hair clinging to your face out of the way. "Hey, you're ok. You're ok." He said, noticing the blood beginning to trickle from your nose. Something wrung his heart like a wet cloth. Hood took the leather jacket from his shoulder and threw it over you. "It's ok, you're going to be fine Crimson."

He continued gripping at you, urging you to respond. But you couldn't talk, your throat burning, so instead you went with a nod. Slowly, his figure became a haze, then a sudden blur of red and grey before

everything

went

black.

You'd woken up the next day tucked into your bed. Silk doona pulled up to your chin. Two glasses of water, headache medication and chicken soup sat on your bedside table. Your fingers raised to brush against the mask that was still on your face. He didn't removed the mask. Your playful smirk soon ended up turning into a genuine smile.

"Thanks Red."

Days went by, and once you were well enough to be out and about again, Jason was ecstatic. He explained everything to you. How he ended up calling back up, how said back up helped him with the men and looking after you.

"Don't worry, afterwards I carried you home myself." He said, assuring you that your location was kept a secret, and a small flutter began in your stomach.

You asked who he had called, but he only replied with a smart ass comment about how your Krav Maga failed you. You rolled your eyes and went about your mission, and Jason smiled beneath his helmet. He couldn't believe what you had done. How you had pushed pass limits and achieved something you didn't know you could. How you had taken those men out simply with a few simple hand movements. You were a prodigy in his eyes. And he was just happy you were ok.

One particularly late night, you sat on your bed after patrol and stared out your bedroom window, letting the moon bathe you in its light before beginning your bed time routine. Neon lights were streaming on the building across from your apartment block. Cars raced on the road down below. The stars were trying hard to be seen, but that was impossible with all the light pollution in Gotham. Your mind continued wandering as you sat there, that was until you heard a squeak from one of the windows in the lounge.

"Hey Red." You said before he even entered your bedroom.

"Hey." He said, setting his helmet down onto your desk.

Jason stood awkwardly at your door, something he'd been doing a lot lately, as he watched you lean down to untie your shoes. Pausing what you were doing, you looked over at him with furrowed brows. He watched as your hair, and that red lace, fell over your shoulder.

"You can come sit down Red."

Jason nodded, cleared his throat, then hesitantly walked over to your bed. Then he sunk into your crimson bedding and took in the warmth of your room. The scent that enveloped it.

Once you finished untying your shoes, you moved closer to Jason and suddenly all the air had been snatched from his lungs. If he had no shame, or if he could actually function, he probably would have asked if you were using your abilities on him.

"Checking on me again?" You asked. It had been the third time this week.

"Maybe." He admitted looking down with a smirk.

"I'm fine now Red, I promise."

You placed your hand on top of his and immediately, he looked up at you. Did you realise what you were doing? Was this simply a friendly gesture? That glint in your eyes said otherwise, and it had him swallowing hard. Shit, could you ever really be his?

You were leaning closer, slowly, surely. Your hand running along his abdomen where the knife cut from that night probably left a scar. Chills ran down his spine, and although he didn't realise it, he was leaning in too. Admiration was evident in Jason's eyes as you stared back, a soft and loving smile adorning your face. Different from your usual smile. A smile he'd never seen before. A smile only he could earn.

"Jason..." You whispered, and shit how he loved how you whispered his name. It was like a whole drum set was now banging and bashing inside of Jason's chest. He raised his hand, warm fingers brushing your cheek before slightly slipping under your mask.

"May I?" He asked reluctantly.

You nodded. "Mmhm."

He pulled your mask off, and once he saw you he had to take a second. He took in every little feature and came to the conclusion he already knew. You were breathtaking. But maybe it was the trust you were showing him that was really making the brutal, sarcastic Red Hood so lovesick.

"Fuck, this is what you've been hiding from me?"

You gave a breathy laugh, your cheeks becoming tinted with pink. Jason leant closer, his breath fanning your skin. Hand tightening around your own, your leg now brushing against his. Until he paused.

"Can I kiss you?"

The fact that he asked made you melt.

You smiled again. "Mmhm."

And suddenly, his lips were on yours. Gentle and tender, almost as though he wasn't sure if this was what you really wanted. After a few seconds of bliss, his doubt got the better of him and he pulled back. But when you crept forward and your hand clutched at his collar to pull him deeper into the kiss, well, then he was all in. Hand gripping your waist whilst the other went to your hair. You felt giddy. Safe. Content.

And as the sounds around you drowned out and the kiss slowly progressed, his lips began to trace your skin....

[hexxedghost]

Took a little break from drafting the next chapter of Haunt to write a little threadfic for bsky. Price got injured and is the worst at actually resting to heal. Enter Nik.

The 141 had become somewhat infamous amongst the medical staff on base. Enough of a reputation that whenever they brought in, after the frantic panic and life-saving care, there was always a heavy put upon sigh from the nurses, knowing what would come afterwards. 

They weren’t good at healing. Their bodies, yes, flesh and sinew knitting itself back together, bruises mottling and fading. But staying in bed, and resting. 

Well, it just didn’t suit them. 

Gaz at least, stayed within the medical wing, but pushed to get away with as much as he could, not above charming and lying to do so. 

Soap somehow managed to injure himself during recovery on several occasions, normally by pushing himself too much too quickly. 

Ghost just left. They’d find him tucked away somewhere else on base, using his reputation and stature to warn off anyone who’d suggest he go back to bed. 

But it was a well known fact on base, that the worst of them was Price. A horrible amalgamation of all three of his team, he would charm, lie, push himself and escape even to do something as boring as paperwork. 

Ghost had proposed just tying him to the bed, but after the third escape, medical just sort of shrugged and gave up. Price was a force to be reckoned with, and nobody was willing to put up with the headache. 

Well, nearly nobody. 

-

“Don’t fucking start, I don’t wanna hear it Nik.” Price warns, pointing at him. Nik holds up his hands, chuckling, as he enters the room.  

“It was surprise. I have not seen you without the beard in a while.” he gestures to Price’s cleanly shaved face, currently giving him a very unimpressed look. He huffs, staring at the window. 

“I’ve already had them lot go on about it. Soap and Gaz did a whole bit with asking everyone where their Captain had gone.” he glares at Nik’s laugh, but there’s no real heat to it. Underneath it all is a fond exasperation he knows holds true for his squad.  

“Ghost?” Nik questions. 

“Asked me where to find the Captain so he could sign some paperwork.” Price mutters bitterly, the betrayal clear in his voice. Nik snorts, and Price goes to cross his arms, stubbornly, but growls when he’s stopped by the cast on his arm. 

The last mission, Price had gotten caught between an armoured vehicle and a low retaining wall. His arm had been crushed between his body and the barrier, but at least it had stopped short of crushing his head. There’d been a scramble, with hostiles swarming their location, managing to extract the Captain. It wasn’t until they were in the helicopter that they’d noticed the wound on Price’s neck. It was superficial, at least, and hadn’t caught anything vital, but it would most likely need stitches, no matter how much Price insisted he’d ‘kept most of his blood on the inside’ over the roar of the engine. 

He was partially right, at least. Most of his blood had been on the inside. And the bone had been set easy enough. Though he liked miserable with the cast, given it was his dominant hand. 

John Price hated relying on other people, hated not being able to do things himself. So Nikolai can’t imagine he was pleasant to deal with if they’d had to shave off the beard. 

“Kate’s sent you to babysit me, then?” Price asks as Nik settles into the seat by the bed. 

“I sent myself,” Nik corrects him, but he can’t hold back the grin as he continues, “though she was very grateful. She said the shovel would be murder on her hands, so it would be a shallow grave.” Nik jokes, relishing in the twitch of a smile he sees briefly on Price’s face. 

Laswell wouldn’t. But she would definitely threaten to. Price was insufferable when he was injured, and Laswell had long carried the torch for trying to corral him into actually taking care of himself for once. 

She’d complained about it once over drinks, Price and the rest of the 141 away on a mission. Nikolai had offered to help offhandedly and after giving him a searching look that seemed to pierce him to the core, she’d picked up her drink, mumbled something to herself and told him to have at it. And to prepare for the worst. 

Preparation was key, he felt, when it came to attempting to wrangle the stubborn force that was John Price. He had a plan, of course. He’d given it a decent amount of thought. The major things that tended to drive Price were work, and others that need taking care of. Nik thought the best path was to…remove them from the equation. Mostly by removing Price from the area. 

Laswell had been surprisingly helpful in that regard, insisting the old man needed a break, and it would be a good idea to let him relax. 

Price, it seemed, disagreed. 

“Nik.”

“Captain.”

Price turns to him, eyes sharp with suspicion. “What is this?”

Nik hum’s thoughtfully, shifting his weight to one foot and gesturing casual in front of them. 

“Hm, if I had to guess. I would say a cabin.” he grins at the filthy look Price gives him, striding forward over the dirt track and fishing out a set of keys. 

“Kate knows I’m here.” Price says, it’s not a question. 

“She insisted.” Nik says, glancing over his shoulder and shooting him a quick smile, “She’s also handled your work, Ghost is taking care of the paperwork, the other two are handling training and duties on base.”

Price seems to deflate. “I’m supposed to be stuck out here and rest, then?”

Nik gets the door open, the hinges well oiled so it swings in smoothly. “She said at least a week.” he heads back to the car to grab the bags, “And I believe the suggestion was to ‘actually relax for once, you stupid man’ or something to that effect.” 

There’s a crunch of dirt underfoot, Price moving in to survey the cabin. Or his new ‘prison’ as he shouts from inside, making Nik chuckle as he shuts the boot. 

-

It’s near evening now. Nik had fired up the wood stove, explaining the cabin was off the grid. It would normally be an irritation for people, but Price seems to settle with it. Knowing that he isn’t being coddled. 

Though he had glared at the food.  “What the ‘ell is this?”

“Kasha. Good, filling.” Nik says, placing the bowl in front of him. Price takes a bit and wrinkles his nose a bit. 

“It’s like salty porridge.” he says, poking at it curiously. 

“I can make something else” Nik offers,

“No, no” Price says in a rush, “I’m just...complaining for the sake of it.” he raises a spoonful into his mouth with a suffering sigh, resting a chin on his hand after chewing, “Miss steak though.”

“When you’re better, we’ll go hunting for some. There is deer in the area.” Nik answers smoothly. 

“This your place, then?” Price asks, looking around the room curiously. 

“One of them,” he answers cryptically, chuckling when Price grumbles. 

The cabin itself is fairly plain, but functional. Nik mostly uses it for hunting, but it’s a good holdout if he needs to hide out for a while. There’s a fold out bed, books, and hunting gear. Along with a desk in the corner. 

“I need your help with something tomorrow.” he says casually, managing to keep his face neutral at how fast Price’s head snaps up. “But, it was a long drive. We sleep first.”

It’s probably a little cruel, to prolong it. But in his experience, once Price knows of a task, it's hard to talk him down from undertaking it in that instant. In most circumstances, it’s admirable, Price is someone that can be relied upon like that. Unless the task is resting, it seems.   

They settle down for the night not too long afterwards, the colder weather causing the dwindling daylight to be a distant memory of hours before. 

-

“What you need my help with, then?” Price pesters him in the early hours, while Nik is washing the dishes from breakfast. There’s an odd motion to his arm that Nik recognises it as a habit of grabbing the straps of his tacvest when they’re in the middle of a debrief. Price seems to notice it at the same time and gives a hard stare to the cast. 

Nik puts the rag down and gestures to the desk. There are maps spread over the well-worn wood, notes of red ink scrawled in margins. Price nods to himself, eyes scanning and assessing in rapid fashion. 

“Just intel or a goal in mind?” he asks, giving a curse when he goes to cross his arms again. Nik takes pity, figuring a task to do is better than sympathy. 

“Familiarity more than anything. Good to know what terrain you can use against your enemies.” Nik says, voice strained as he digs under the desk to find what he’s looking for. He holds out a camera drone for Price to inspect. “I’ve mapped some of the area, but it would be easier with two.”

Price takes it in his left hand, squinting at it curiously. “Drones?”

“You know how to handle them, to some extent? I know Sergeant Garrick is quite good with them.”

“I meant more that it’s battery powered. This place is offgrid right?” 

“Ah. There is a generator for it.” he points outside to where it’s tucked against the house. 

“You took the time to make sure you’ve powered your drones, but I can’t have a hot shower?” Price raises his eyebrows, but there’s a glint of humour in his eyes. 

“Priorities, Captain.” Nikolai says simply, the chuckle behind him letting him know he’d hit the mark. “And the radios.” he adds, gesturing to the comms units on the desk. 

“Whats the plan then?”

“You survey, I check, you make notes.” he taps the maps with a callused finger. Price works his jaw, but Nik knows he’s got him. There is only one thing worse for John Price than injury, blood or and gunfire. And it’s boredom. 

“Fine.” 

-

It was nearing the autumn months, the air brisk and fogging in front of him as he moves through the trees. There’s a barely audible whir of the drone nearby, as he sees it flit ahead. 

“Zippy little bastards, aren’t they?” Price’s voice crackles over the comms, sounding pleased with himself. Nik laughs to himself, moving over a gnarled tree root as a leisurely stroll. There was a certain boyish charm to the way Price’s voice lit up that even the static of the radio couldn’t quite hide. 

They’d quickly realised that it was easier for Price to just hot mic, since constantly having to activate a switch required a working hand he didn’t currently possess. 

Nik had been making notes as he’d travelled along the route Price was scouting for him. Most of it he expected, but it was still useful information. He hadn’t considered the river, though Price had swooped low over the rushing water and mumbled to himself about fishing. It was incredibly endearing, Nik just sitting back and letting the words wash over him. 

Although, it had been a few hours since he’d set out, and the sun was sinking lower in the sky. He should consider heading back soon.  

Price’s voice cuts in suddenly. “Nik…”

“Hm?” 

“Why are you taking care of me?” It’s not the question Nik was expecting, but it’s an easy enough one to answer. 

“Someone has to.” he gets to his feet, stretching stiff limbs as he listens to the chuckle over the radio. 

“Drew the short straw eh?” Price jokes. Nikolai straightens up.

“No.”  he says firmly. “Someone should take care of you, and I would rather it be me. I know I will do it right.” 

There’s a pause, the sound of evening birds weaving through the quickly cooling air. “Who takes care of you then?” Price asks. 

“Whoever is willing to shoulder that burden, I suppose.” Nik replies easily, picking up the drone and tucking it safely into his pack. 

Price hums quietly, but doesn’t say anymore on Nik’s trek back. Even at dinner that night he is uncharacteristically quiet, not even a comment about the food. 

-

“Wouldn’t be’ y’know?” he says suddenly after they’ve finished lunch. Nikolai scratches at his beard, trying to find the thread of the conversation he’d lost.

“I don’t think I do?” he says curiously, resting his elbows on the table. 

“A burden.” Price says simply. For once, Nik doesn’t know how to respond. He didn’t realise Price had been thinking about that throwaway common for so long. 

“I…am not an easy man to deal with.” is what he settles on. He had taken precautions when thinking of how to deal with Price in his recovery, but he hadn’t planned for this conversation. It’s odd to find himself completely out of his depth.

“How’d you figure that then?” the captain insists, that keen glint in his eye reminding Nik that Price is far more observant than most give him credit for. It’s something he respects, so as much as it would be easy to dismiss he tries to give the answer some genuine thought. 

“I am difficult to know.” he ticks off on his fingers 

“Reckon I know you pretty well.” Price interjects, smiling when Nik looks over to him and gestures to put the finger down.   

“You do, yes.” he raises another finger, “I am secretive.” 

“Cause you have to be.” Price counters.

Nik shakes his head, but finds himself smiling. He can see the game now.  

“Sometimes, security is a necessity, yes. I put people at ease, but I think they know it is because I am a danger to them. Like a lion placating the sheep.” 

“Lions work together, though.” Price points out, scratching at the edge of his cast and frowning when Nik bats his hand away. 

“True, but it's often the females that do all the work”

Laswell’s name remains unspoken, but as they share a look, it may as well have been said. There’s a glint in Price’s eye that looks like mirth and Nik grins into his drink.

“Should put those down though.” Price says, nodding to the raised fingers. 

“I am still a dangerous person.”

“Surrounded by other dangerous people. Where you’re meant to be.” he sits back, and even though the cast hampers it, there’s that squaring of the shoulders Nik associates with Price gearing up for a final blow. 

“Was supposed to be about you not being a burden. Haven’t heard a good point yet.” he says seriously. 

“To some I would be.” Nik offers, clearing away the table. 

Price shrugs, “Maybe. To me you're not though. Reckon my opinion might count for something.: 

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.” Nik says, turning to him, resting a palm flat on the counter. 

“Haven’t had much else on.” Price lifts the cast for emphasis. Nik rolls his eyes, hip checking him in the shoulder as he goes past and chuckling at the feigned outrage following him from the kitchen. 

The words seem to fill the space between them for the rest of the day, though they don’t speak much. Just quietly existing in a comfortable silence together, filling in details on the maps, adding notes of good spots for the future plans of a hunting trip that's taken form over the last few days. 

It does feel like something has shifted, slightly. But, Nikolai is a patient man when it comes to these things. He’s willing to wait, to match Price’s pace, if he chooses to walk the same trail. Things that like were worth the wait. 

-

Later, in the quiet dark of the night, as Price clears his throat. “Why’d you take me out here?”

“To recover, I thought that part was obvious from the start.’ Nik says, the grasp of sleep slipping away as he sits up on an elbow. 

“Not what I’m really asking.” Price says, sitting up entirely and cursing at the cast as it gets stuck in the blanket. 

“Here specifically? Or why me?” Nik says, politely ignoring Price’s struggles. 

“Either. Both.” he grunts, finally freeing himself. 

“I like the idea of you being taken care of.” he says, “ I already said this.” he adds pointedly afterwards. 

The dark outline of Price shifts, the constant motion a familiar sight even in the dark. “Are only you allowed to do that then?”

“I would hope you would start taking care of yourself.” Nik points out dully. 

“Rather take care of you.” is the quick reply. 

Ah, he’d forgotten. Nikolai was a man willing to wait for things, no matter how long they take. But, Jonathan Price is not a patient man. If he sees a task to be done, it will be, stubbornly and immediately.   

“You would be the first.” he says gently into the darkness. 

“Rather be the last,” Price says, and it sounds like a promise. 

-

A few weeks later, the cast comes off. 

And a few years after that, after listing off all the reasons why on their fingers, they match them together with bands of gold.