#I think it would feel unsecure

[convoloutedinjoke]

competitiveness and rules brain and mortal fear of becoming a disposable outsider going hand in hand in hand < ---------- is thinking about the loneliness again

[marxistgnome]

On the one hand i think star trek not really having an internet equivalent is cool cos it shiws we developed an entire new and possibly better system, similar to how holosuites replaced film and tv, and it slso lets me speculate about whether internet connection as we know it works in deep space or 9ver long interstellar distances (idk how the internet works so i get to just imagine). But on the other hand it would be funny if data was a twitch streamer.

[violentdevotion]

i feel the EXACT same way like idk if i’m just off putting or what bc i’ve never been asked out or necessarily flirted with and i’m just like dang am i that ugly even tho i feel like i put a decent amount of effort in my appearance? not that male validation is the most important thing but as someone unfortunately attracted to men i’d hope atleast some of them would like me back

anyways sorry for random rant i just relate sm to what u said

no, thank you literally everything you said i feel. and like ive always been a sappy romance person even as a kid so like i went through primary school not wanted (which is expected of course, like I was prepubescent and any relationship wouldn't have meant anything) and then high school, and then 6th form, and then uni. and i feel like ive lost all the opportunities i had to meet someone organically. and as you said, I put effort into my appearance and dedicated so much time to hiding parts of myself i find unattractive (to no avail of course, if you're fat you can't hide that you're fat. you can just wear baggy clothes) and im forever worried that because i went so long without any sort of interest in me that the second i recieve some ill cling to it and ignore all red flags, or (equally as bad in my head) i just won't be desired. ever.

[etherealkissed88]

i got what i wanted in the 3d but why did i keep assuming negative?

today i found myself assuming that something negative (that ive experienced before) was going to happen again soon. but this was without any clear evidence that it would happen. there was subtle evidence but then i caught myself and realized that is was all an assumption and i thought “why am i even assuming negative if i know the power of the law?💀” so i decided it wouldnt end up that way and i let it go. hours later i saw clear evidence of the complete opposite of my negative assumption. this means that everything was going good like no negative shit was gonna happen and i still literally got physical evidence of what i wanted. at the same time, i felt uncertain and again assumed that negative thing was still gonna happen soon (even tho i saw evidence that it it wouldnt happen).

why did i feel uncertain even tho what i wanted appeared right in front of me? because in reality, i was chasing the feeling. i wasnt fulfilled, i wasnt satisfied within. this is what ppl mean when they say “its the feeling you want, you dont want it in the 3d”. sure you want the object and the physical experience but notice how the “real” and physical thing did not satisfy me at all. i literally manifested what i wanted yet i didnt feel like it would last. the 3d will never give you what you want. it will always be that inner fulfillment that gives you want you want. fulfillment is what gives you the satisfaction so if youre saying that you manifested something in the 3d and felt secure, thats because you were fulfilled. why did i also get what i wanted in the 3d yet i didnt feel secure? it will always come down to the fulfillment. that fulfillment is the FEELING! the feeling of knowing you have it despite seeing it in the 3d or not. this is also why the 3d never matters; its all neutral. bc everything IS based on assumptions and states. you see the world based on which state you are in. if im in the state of being broke, i will look at a $50 headphones as too expensive and i wouldnt feel secure in buying it. but if i was in the state of being a millionaire, i would look at a $50 headphones as if it was fifty cents and i would feel secure in even buying a more expensive one. its not about the 3d, its about if you feel fulfillment because either way if you have it in the 3d and still dont feel as if its not rly yours (fulfillment), then you will continue to assume negative and feel unsecured in your manifestation.

“as within so without” right? this is why when you are satisfied internally, you feel satisfied externally; it gets pushed out because self is always expressed in the 3d. someone who is not satisfied with being a millionaire within, can never feel good in the 3d until they fulfill themselves within (or change states where being a millionaire is normal for them). everything truly is the feeling and everything truly starts within.

back to assumptions: i continued to assume negative even with positive evidence in front of me because i wasnt giving myself the feeling. i didnt feel satisfied within. assumptions are accepting ideas without evidence. i clearly assumed correctly because i didnt have evidence that that negative thing was going to happen but i clearly was in a state of fear which is what caused me to continuously have that assumption. whatever state you are in affects your assumptions. lucky for me and you, we can change states and assumptions instantly. other than that, next time you find yourself assuming negative, stop yourself and just decide/assume it will all work out. change your state -> you are now the person who already has what they want.

anywayz, i realized all this in a span of 7 seconds after i got the physical thing i wanted but still assumed negative. i wanted to make this post because ppl could be doing the same thing and still feeling stuck and thinking that something is wrong with them when thats not the case. catch yourself and assume positive. make it a habit that whenever you want something, fulfill yourself right away. assume its done right away. update: i assumed and fulfilled myself with what i wanted and i no longer feel the need to assume the negative shit 😛. the power of fulfillment am i right ?

kisses, jani ☆

[ripplestitchskein]

@angelshizuka I didn’t want to add on to your post and derail it so just doing a screen grab.

But this really bothers me. Like WHY did Blitz think this was a good idea? And how did he plan on keeping it once he had it? He’s not like unintelligent, the whole business is a good idea and they have no competitors we’ve seen other than CHERUB trying a reverse uno.

I pointed out in another post about this topic that Blitz is aware that there are other ways to get to Earth. He dated several succubi and incubi who have crystals. He was able to get one really easily to find Barbie. He could have gotten back with Verosika or any of the others if he was willing to have sex for it. It’s the same kinda arrangement and would involve a few groveling phone calls instead of a heist and fingers crossed you aren’t arrested or killed if you get caught. For Verosika her feelings probably stopped him there but there are other succubi and incubi and obviously he has the game to convince them.

Like if the plan was sneak in, get the book and he won’t know it’s me, fine. But he was already caught and Stolas already confirmed he knew who he was. That same plan would also work a lot better with lower risk at some succubus’s apartment than a royal party. And Asmodeus has hundreds of succubi and incubi and associated crystals versus one guy’s personal spell book. Risk analysis says. “Steal some random nobodies crystal from their probably unsecured house”. And even after Stolas clocks him he’s still like “I’ll just take it” and then thought just ghosting Stolas after would be enough??

I just feel like there has to be a reason, even if it’s like a subconscious one. Why Stolas? What reminded Blitz of a royal who has a book that can go to the human realm 25 years later when he had fairly recently ended a relationship with a succubus who can also do that? And Barbie was able to find a job to get to Earth so it seems like that was also an option. He could have doubled up, run drugs or human shit and also killed people at the same time and done it legitimately. Partnered up to ride along with a succubus even, “Hey, you go do your sex demon shit and I’ll be killing people, we’ll meet back here at 3”. He’s still the boss in that scenario even if he also works with someone else to do it, he’s doing that with Stolas anyway. The consequence of running afoul of Asmodeus if he finds out and is mad because of his partnership with Fizz is only slightly higher than it is stealing from an Ars Goetia.

I don’t know if it was to fuck with royals specifically? He thought Stolas would be an easy mark, but he doesn’t really know him now from what we’ve seen so that’s a weird assumption to make. He seems to think pretty negatively of royals why would he assume this one wouldn’t be the same if he was caught?

Did he follow Stolas before hand to get a vibe? How did he know about the party? Did he just pick a random day and there happened to be a party? What was the lead up? I guess it was in the paper, maybe he saw it there and was like “Now is my chance”. I can buy that from an impulsive desperation level but like I said, there were easier ways.

I hope they get into that but I dunno if they will, it’s not like crucial to the story so maybe better to not waste time in it, it really just adds to the basic framework established but I just have questions.

[gotham-daydreams]

Oh my god due to the recent Alfred ask it makes me wonder and scream at the thought if there has ever been a moment when Reader asked Alfred if there's something else they can call him. Like DAD perhaps...(and this can go for different routes and so many juicy things, but ill get into that later).

But since the backstory is up to us, I like to think the Reader has a bio family which was questionable(maybe I'm projecting), so they never had a good track record with their dad and then Bruce adopted them and we know that didn't end well.

So when they ask Alfred if there's something else they can call him ( a lil show that they do see him closer than anyone and that he's important to us.) We could have gone back and forth with him talking about what to call him and stuff when we jokingly say something along the lines of "maybe not Dad since my track record with such isn't the best." Maybe they open up to Alfred about how their family/ life was before they were adopted by the batfam. Maybe even admit they can't see anyone as a dad figure after them (😭), so the thought is uncomfy for them( this hits in so many ways.) Or how they're scared if they call him dad something will change about Alfred and become like their 'dads'.

Which will undoubtedly hit some strings with Alfred. Seeing as how every 'dad' has failed them to the point they can't fathom or be comfortable with seeing or thinking of someone as a dad. But the fact that BRUCE had played a part in it 💀... Which is what's making the Reader confused and feel unsecured in his own personal relationship with the Reader (on what to call him, but probably in other stuff as well).

Back to the top part of the reader asking what they can call him, and they end up at something along the lines or at calling Alfred Dad.

It will undoubtedly make his heart squeeze and scrumble( One way could be he's being called 'Dad' after so long). Probably make Alfred a lot closer to the reader than before. Probably stepping up to the title and being closer taking care of Reader even more, now that he knows they have that emotional bond( stronger than before and the permission).

For little cute ideas/cenerios I imagine he makes an even greater effort to come to our plays and tournaments and sit front row probably recording.( in a reserved seat next to all the other empty ones 😒). And get a lil prissy when he can't make it (ESPECIALLY IF ITS BC OF THE BATFAM). He asks some of the organizers to record it specifically for him if they aren't doing it already, so he can watch it live (or once handed to him)while doing whatever keeps him from going. All so he can talk about it with us when we come back home and show how proud of us he is.

Definitely gets us gifts for each performance/ tournaments. If he was present he would walk with us a while after it ended and get us ice cream or out for a celebratory dinner. 😭

Okay but now for the lil angst part in that moment when we settle on what to call Alfred whenever it would be similar or is Dad or a different title all together that would be the moment we lose any real attachments to the Batfam. Not seeing them as siblings or parental figures anymore. At most just wanted to impress them but that quickly died off and just just focused on what we do have.

Alfred would also know that that was the moment or the end of the falling bridge with the Batfam and Reader. Which would probably hurt him cause the Batfam is still his family, but now he also has us and sees our neglect and what the batfam's consequences are. Probably breaking his own hope of us being accepted/ integrated into it and the Batfam to being back a normal dysfunctional but loving family with us in it.

Okay but the real ANGST. It's not just the reader and Alfred having heart to heart or other situations between the two of them. BUT INSTEAD BRUCE HEARING READER CALL ALFRED THE TITLE WE SETTLED ON. And it doesn't have to be only Bruce that would work for angst because the others are smart so if they hear Reader call Alfred by the title... They know it doesn't correlate to them and their relationship of being Reader's sibling because Alfred isn't that title to them. Connecting and discovering at the same time that the Reader doesn't see them as siblings and hasn't for a time they weren't even aware of.

Imagining just Bruce sneaking away and thinking by himself or even confronting Alfred 😩😩. The Batkids doing their research seeing Reader live their life completely disconnected from theirs only hammering that Reader doesn't see them as family. The only thing connecting to them being Alfred and even Alfred is a different role in Reader's life than in theirs.

Maybe Batfam finds out about what the Reader tried to get their attention only to give up, maybe they don't and just see the Reader slipping away until the Reader becomes a foggy memory again until the Reader moves away like in the [Not] series everything follows.

Hope you enjoy 🥰🥰💕 drink water 💦

Yeah!!! And since there is another ask that's about the reader considering Alfred their dad, and how Bruce would react to that, I won't be going too much into how Bruce himself would react since I'd like to explain it there when I get to it- but I will say that in very, very simple terms. Bruce is not happy about it. At all.

As for how the whole name thing would start? Alfred would definitely say that you can call him whatever you'd like, but will definitely silently try to nudge you in the direction of calling him dad or something akin to that. He may not expect it to work right away, especially in this scenario where the reader already has a messy relationship with people who were supposed to be their father's in the past. However, when you do call him dad or something similar, he is literally about to cry.

He won't cry in front of you! But he might later-

Regardless, words cannot express the amount of joy he feels when that happens, and as you've mentioned, Alfred does try to not let you down. Unwilling to become another reason why you have a hard time seeing people as your father, or father-figure. He feels more inclined to look after you above everyone else, and tries even harder to be present. There isn't a single event of performance that he'll miss willingly, and even if he does- he has his ways of making it up to you, even if you know that it was out of his hands.

I think a neat detail would also be that the amount of unoccupied seats next to him slowly shorten with time. It starts off with there being a seat for everyone in the Batfam, but as time goes on the amount begins to dwindle, until there's just one for him. Maybe with the occasional one other seat beside him if it's for an event, and you get to sit next to him before going or doing whatever you have to. Further showing how you, as the reader, begin to care less and less about the Batfam, and really only see/recognize Alfred as your family. As there is only one reserved seat for him at each and every performance and tournament.

I think the idea of the Batfam noticing this and trying to fix it, yet the reader still being able to slip away, and them forgetting all over again is both just out right heartbreaking and infuriating.

Like, can you imagine as a neglected!reader, finally having your family notice you (despite you growing used to their lack of attention at this point), only to have them forget you exist all over again? Or just forget about you enough to where you still leave without saying much of anything, and only leave behind a note to the one person you considered family?

And imagine the Batfam- not only feeling, but knowing that they've failed you more than they could ever imagine? Not only making you feel alone and isolated in your own home, since they never noticed you, not only once, but twice? That's borderline unforgivable. They noticed you, and somehow still managed to neglect you all over again. It's astonishing, really. Maybe they do have powers after all.

But really- how I could see that happening is if they get too busy with the idea of you rather you yourself, if that makes sense?

Through their research and everything, they form a version of you in their heads that they're all clinging onto, that they unintentionally don't give the real you a chance. Hell, they don't even give themselves a chance to even see it as they drown in their own delusions. Stuck with plans and ideas they ultimately never saw through, either because they were far too worried to further mess things up (like a certain brooding bat), or were far too certain of the outcome and therefore came up with more ideas and plans that they ended up not doing. Like a certain robin who, after two generations, finally wore pants. So by the time they realize their mistake, (which probably happenss when one of them finally decides to actually act on a plan they made) you're gone. Lost to the wind. Like a distant whisper they nevr quite heard, but dreamed about encountering ever since. Forgetting that chasing and searching were things they could do right from the start instead.

Though Alfred and the reader having a heart to heart? Please, we could all really use that. Forget about how horrible Alfred is behind the scenes- we need the closest thing we can get to a positive influence in this family. Or really just a good source of comfort, honestly.

Though his dying hope does break his heart, he just takes it as another opportunity to fill in the shoes of being your father. Even if at this point it means being your only family out of everyone in the Batfam, then so be it. He'll just have to fill in where they refuse to, but he doesn't mind since it gets him more time with you- and I can imagine that, despite the hurt of realizing that you'll never be 'fully' apart of the Wayne family, at least you have a part with Alfred and the Pennyworth's. And there is some comfort and reassurance that comes with that. Since, while you may not be able to have this big, huge family- at least you have this small, comfortable one right here with Alfred.

Hell, this time around Alfred might even fully support the reader moving away, as he's more certain than ever that he'll still have that connection with them. That he and the reader will actually communicate, and as long as he can still see them and so on- he doesn't mind.

He'll let the Batfam run around, and play dumb at all the right moments with that sassy, sarcastic attitude of his. Letting them know that they've wasted their opportunity- wasted the one real chance they had with you, and probably won't be getting another one.

After all, it isn't his fault that they fucked up. If anything, he's probably the only reason why the reader is connected to the Batfam at all, or even associates with them the smallest amount. It isn't because of Bruce or any of the others. It's because of Alfred. Even if he won't say it out loud, he'll make sure that they all know it one way or another, and though Alfred doesn't necessarily view himself as cruel- he wouldn't mind throwing a little shade if it meant emphazing that point a little further.

You are his kid. His family. Why would they think otherwise?

On a lighter, more wholesome note, I definitely agree with the more light/cuter ideas!!

Alfred is definitely spoiling you if he can help it, and will poorly disguise his favoritism- though probably would stop even trying to hide it all together at some point.

There is never a moment where Alfred doesn't/won't remind you of how proud of you he is, and how much you've improved. He isn't afraid to admit that you're doing a good job or doing the right thing, even if you can be reckless at times, to your face. And if you end up doubting your ability, or just yourself as a whole, Alfred will definitely be there to comfort you, and remind you of how well you've been doing and reiterate how proud you make him.

He wants you to know that he'll always be there for you, and by the time you leave, you still feel that.

Alfred also makes sure to check up on you and tend to your needs, along with spend time with you in other ways- which does include, but isn't limited to; watching films at home, baking/cooking together, sewing, reading, tending to the garden, and just generally being in each other's space. Maybe even a small hang out outside of the manor if you both can help it.

Nevertheless, that was a fun read, and I fully agree!! Make sure to drink some water and rest up too!

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap 9

masterpost

Having a mission changed everything. 

Tim took full advantage of his new knowledge of the holy manuals. The first rule that he took to heart was that he was meant to be armed. Of course! It made sense.

Unfortunately, he was also not meant to take any weapon onto the field that he hadn’t trained with. Tim thought hard for a while whether or not a suburban house counted as ‘in the field’, but it seemed like he should pay lip service to Batman’s rule. So he got some sharp things that seemed interesting and spent some time throwing them at a target. They kind of looked like Batarangs, but… different. 

“I don’t think bats change shape in the next ten years or so,” Tim muttered. He gave another half hearted throw. The thing dinged off the wall below his target. “So this isn’t meant to be a bat shape. Did Batman rebrand to the Birdman and no one fixed his wiki page yet? Is this a parallel universe and not my actual future?”

It occurred to him that it might be a bird because of Robin. But come on, Robins didn’t use sharp things. Robin was a child. It was irresponsible for children to use blades. 

Tim sent another thingy into the wall. It hit with the pointy end first this time and sank an inch into the wall to the right of the target. He held his breath as it wiggled for a moment. Then it went still without falling.

“Yes!” He punched the air. Thank gosh! He was getting bored with that. It was good to be done with training. It was kind of dull.

Steps one and two were finished. He had a weapon and he had trained with it. Tim went back to his list. The next technical skill set was lock picking. That was super easy and fun! Tim enjoyed the clear diagrams and explanations. There wasn’t anything to practice with, but he thought that he had the concept down handily. He grabbed a set of lockpicks for his khaki pockets. 

He needed to do a little more to understand the patterns of the target, as well as their background. Tim considered asking Jason for any information, but he probably didn’t have any. Maybe he wasn’t very good at googling. So he just did it. The Sausage Guy was more commonly known as Benedict Orange, a name that Tim really liked and mentally stored away to use as an alias when he was a superhero. 

Anyway. Tim figured out how old the guy was, where he’d gone to school, and a bunch of other stuff like the record of his marriage ten years ago. 

“Huh,” Tim said, brows furrowed. “I didn’t find a divorce record. But he’s single now?” Mr. Orange had accounts on a lot of dating sites. He was using his engagement photo for the profile photo, with his wife cut out.

That was weird. He tried to find the wife, but there wasn’t anything more recent than 8 years ago, when she’d announced that she was quitting her job on social media. 

…Tim had kind of a bad feeling about that. 

He put a pin in it for now, but he had a small theory at the back of his mind that started with ‘I think this guy killed his wife.’

Maybe that was how the human sausage thing started. Maybe he’d killed her on impulse and then needed a way to get rid of the body. And then maybe he’d gotten a taste for it.

Tim shuddered. Okay, okay, he was for real done thinking about this! Big yucky.

Benny Orange was an office worker with a title that Tim didn’t really understand. It seemed vague to the point of uselessness, but then again, that was office work. The relevant thing was that he got home around 6 pm, and he left at 8 am.

It was 10 in the morning. Tim could get over there and toss Benny’s home before the end of the workweek if he hurried. The manual said that you should never spend more than an hour investigating an unsecured location. It also said that you should file a report or directly inform someone of where you’d be. 

That part made Tim pause for a moment before he remembered that he’d told Jason. Jason would probably check on him when he woke up, or whatever.

Tim found an equipment belt that he could wrap around his waist twice to buckle on. He put his sharp things in it. Then he untucked his shirt, because he had tucked it in out of habit and that would make it harder to access his weapons. He frowned as he did it. It just felt wrong.

He put on his shoes and got out the door. He didn’t have a lot of time to waste if he wanted to be able to take his time, so Tim hailed a taxi to cross most of the distance this time. He was grateful that Mrs. Henderson was gone and there was no chance of seeing her. Last time had been a little bit of a disaster. Needing civilian help to get into the building was not a winning move.

He had bat-approved lockpicks this time. He went to the front door and did his best. 

It turned out that maybe he should have practiced? Tim started to sweat out in the open. It felt like someone was staring at his back. He looked at the houses around. No one was at their windows or walking outside. He started jumping whenever the tall herbs in Mr. Orange's garden swayed in the breeze. He had a lot of plants.

His hands were shaking. The sweat made his shirt stick to his back. He was going to get caught and in so much trouble.

When the door finally opened, Tim offered up a thanks to Bast, because he assumed the cat goddess was more likely to be pro-breaking and entering than other gods. That logic was just based off of what he knew about Catwoman, honestly. 

The first glimpse into Benedict Orange's home was disappointingly normal. He had vinyl flooring (easy to clean!), leather furniture, and a big flat TV high up on the wall. He didn’t have enough knickknacks and there was no art. There was a wood and glass case that was full of identical, unlabeled bottles with something red in it. Hot sauce? Was he a hot sauce guy?

Tim mentally reclassified Mr. Orange further down the list of ‘people I could talk to at a cocktail party.’

The place had the same layout as Mrs. Henderson’s place, just in reverse. Tim beelined to the kitchen because.. Well.

He just did.

The counter space where Mrs. Henderson had a hot water kettle, a big stand mixer, and a toaster was mostly clear here. Mr. Orange only had one piece of cooking machinery. Tim didn’t know it. He squinted at it. It was a big shiny stainless steel thing. It had a metal tray, a wheel, and like… a nozzle. When he climbed on a chair to look down, he could see there was a little tunnel tube thing where you could put stuff inside the body of the machine.

Weird. Moving on!

He checked inside the fridge. He stared for a moment of aghast silence. There was a stack of takeout containers, a bunch of seasonings in the door, and a stack of tupperware with something red in them. 

Cautiously, Tim dug one out and opened it.

“That’s raw meat,” he said, voice high. He put the box back in and then hesitated. Maybe he should be like, taking it? Or taking a sample? To see what animal it came from?

“I’ll think about it.” Tim shut the fridge a little harder than he needed to and beat feet out of the kitchen. He started checking the other rooms. He found the master bedroom. His nose wrinkled. “I don’t think he’s restyled this since Brenda died,” Tim complained. He looked at the curtains with extreme judgment. They were so outdated it wasn’t even funny, but they also weren’t retro yet!

Oh. Wait. Belatedly, Tim remembered that it was ten years into his future. So, maybe they were retro now. Anyways, Brenda had liked the trend for chickens and roosters. There were chickens and roosters everywhere in the decor, including a cute print of what was obviously intended to be a husband and wife pair snuggling on a sofa.

His heart hurt a little. He looked at it a little too long. 

Tim took a deep breath. Then he went back to looking for evidence. There wasn’t much in the bedroom, so clearly Mr. Orange had a personal office elsewhere. There were two more rooms in the apartment.

Tim opened the next door. The room was mostly a guest bedroom, with the notable exception of a huge chest freezer and a weird long wooden bar across the room.

Tim shut the door.

The last room was the office. There was a desk, a file cabinet, and a lockbox full of women’s drivers licenses.

“Yeah, okay,” Tim said under his breath. “He’s a serial killer.” He took photos and sent them to Jason immediately with the subject line “Yeah he’s a killer!!!”

Then he got down to sorting through the papers to see if there was anything else. Jason was a Robin, Tim supposed, so he’d need the evidence to show the police. It would be helpful if he just went and sorted it out now. He found warranties for the TV, the new freezer, and he presumed that ‘Meat Grinder’ meant the thing in the kitchen.

“I appreciate that he’s so organized, actually,” Tim muttered. He was hunched over digging through the bottom drawer now.

A key went into a door. 

Tim froze stock still. He slowly, silently shut the drawer. He stared at the closed door to the living room. On the other side of it, Mr. Orange unlocked and opened the front door. Tim slowly looked up, saw 12:14 on the clock, and vaguely registered that sometimes people come home on their lunch breaks.

The front door shut. There was a quiet metal sound that Tim thought was probably the chain lock. The chain lock that was too high for him to move without a chair to stand on.

Okay. Uh. He looked around for a place to hide. The best option was under the desk. Tim crawled through the legs of the chair, heart beating furiously.

He weighed his options. Wait it out and hope Mr. Orange didn’t come in?

…Seemed risky. But there was no way he was going to run out past the guy to the front door. At least, the odds that he’d get grabbed were just not good, not when he didn’t know where Mr. Orange was. 

Alright. Tim knew reality. He might not be able to get out of this on his own. At the very least, he should let Jason know what was going on so that they could add his murder to the list of charges. And maybe Jason was close by to help? Wayne Manor was awfully far away, so probably not. But it didn’t hurt to try.

He got his phone back out and was silently very glad that he had it. Jason had responded to his message. Tim didn’t take the time to read it, instead typing up a blank email with the subject line “um might need help asap :( he here”. He sent it. Then he huddled down to wait.

Noises came from the kitchen- the suction as the fridge opened. The beep of the microwave. A man’s voice saying, “What the fuck? Did I leave this here?”

His blood turned ice cold.

‘What did I do?’ Tim desperately tried to remember what he’d touched in the kitchen. Had he really moved something around? He didn’t remember anything! His heart rate went up like crazy.

The door opened. Tim flinched. His whole body started shaking uncontrollably.

Oh. No. It wasn’t this door yet. It was the door to the next room, the spare bedroom. He heard the weird squelch of the chest freezer opening. Then the closet door squeaked open. Something heavy moved around. 

“Well, it wasn’t you,” said Mr. Orange. There was a mean satisfaction in his tone. The heavy thing moved again.

Tim’s brain went a bit blank.

Who was he talking to? Was there someone in the apartment? Hidden behind something heavy?

He opened up another email. Jason hadn’t responded, so there was no way to know if he’d seen. Tim hastily typed up, “I think there’s a living hostage in the house” and sent it as the door to the office opened.

He hugged his arms around his knees and squeezed his eyes shut. Oh gosh. Oh heck. Oh no, oh no. He bit his lower lip and broke skin.

‘No. I can’t be a baby about this.’ 

It was really hard with how stiff his fingers felt. But Tim put the phone in his pocket and wrestled the sharp bird weapon out. He held it clumsily. And he watched Mr. Orange’s feet move around the room. They walked around the room. He saw the curtains move as Mr. Orange pulled them to check no one was hiding there. Then he knew that Mr. Orange was coming to his hiding spot.

Tim swallowed. He waited until Mr. Orange’s feet were in sight. He stabbed his sharp thing down through the top of Mr. Orange’s sock.

Mr. Orange bellowed and fell back against his filing cabinet. 

Tim scrambled out and ran.

He went towards the front door on automatic and nearly got there before he looked up and saw that yes, the chain lock was on. He couldn’t reach it. 

“You little shit!” Mr. Orange bellowed. He lunged at Tim. Tim barely dodged. He jabbed at him again without looking and barreled towards the door to Mrs. Henderson’s apartment. It only had a doorknob lock. He unlatched it, praying that she had not changed her ideas about the open door policy. The door handle turned.

He threw himself into the room and slammed the door shut. He clicked the little button lock.

Mr. Orange hit the door, hard. It shook. He wasn’t saying anything anymore. There was something about that which struck Tim as absolutely terrifying. Didn’t people bellow and yell when they were mad? 

He looked towards Mrs. Henderson’s door. The door shook again as Mr. Orange hit it.

Wood splintered.

If he went out Mrs. Henderson’s front door he could sprint for it. What were the odds he could outrun a grown man? If he did, wouldn’t Mr. Orange just get in his car? Potential witnesses had made Mr. Orange back off before, but he was more invested now in silencing Tim. And there was no one around. Tim had checked. 

The door splintered again. He could see Mr. Orange’s shoulder. Then a socked foot.

‘I don’t think I stabbed his foot well enough,’ some distant part of Tim’s brain catalogued. ‘He’s still moving on it. If I live past this, I’m going to commit to the next stabbing with more enthusiasm.’

He bolted for the stand where Mrs. Henderson kept her mace. He was just out of sight from Mr. Orange’s hole in the door. His heart thudded so loud. His shaking had stopped. The mace didn’t  feel heavy. 

‘If I was taller, i’d aim for the face. I can’t pull that off. I’ll aim for center mass. He may block with an arm, but theoretically his arm will be hurt enough that I’ll be able to pull back and make another swing.’

There was a catastrophic smash from inside Mr. Orange’s apartment. 

Then a “What the fuck-” that got cut off a little early. Mr. Orange sounded mad and confused. 

A thud. Two smaller thuds. A clicking. Tim wanted so badly to know what was going on. 

A hand reached through the hole in the door and unlatched the lock. 

Tim swallowed. He readied a swing. 

The door opened.

Tim took a step forward and swung Mrs. Henderson’s antique mace with maximum strength directly into the armored center mass of a guy who was NOT Mr. Orange.

“Oh my gosh,” Tim said, horrified, at the instant he connected. The guy was looking forward. He looked down too late, just as the mace hit.

There was sort of a bounce. The mace bounced back off the tummy armor without digging in or drawing blood. Half of Tim was relieved, and half was terrified that his plan had failed. 

The guy doubled over and made a sound that was a lot like GURK. He clutched at his torso with one arm and pointed a gun at Tim with the other.

Tim put his hands up.

The guy looked at Tim. Presumably. It was hard to tell through his ugly red motorcycle helmet.

“I really should have known.” 

His mechanical voice was scary.

Bad guy! 

Tim took his chances and another swing before the guy could shoot him. He expected to hear a shot as he smashed his mace again. The guy yelped and jerked backwards to avoid getting hit. Then there was a thud.

Tim peered through the door cautiously. The guy had tripped over Mr. Orange. Mr. Orange was laying on the floor facedown, arms zip tied behind his back. 

“Oh, sorry,” Tim apologized. He took a couple steps over to put the mace back away. He gave Mr. Orange a wide berth.

“I never would have guessed that the Red Hood used kids like this,” Mr. Orange said meanly. He narrowed his eyes at Tim. “Small, even for bait.”

The Red Hood guy pointed his gun at Mr. Orange’s head. Tim shrieked.

The Red guy stopped. He seemed to look at Tim again. He had some really bad words. “Alright.” He got back up to his feet and put the gun away.

Right. He’d probably just been joking or something. Tim belatedly registered the control it must have taken to not accidentally shoot while being attacked and falling over. 

Oh. Wait. It was a huge coincidence that a hero came right now, unless-

‘Is this Jason?’ Tim felt his eyebrows go all the way up. He wanted to ask a million questions. His mouth was firmly glued shut, though. Partly it was infosec. But it was also embarrassment.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

you know you never stood a chance - chapter seven

you know you never stood a chance series

seven: lest we bleed ourselves

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 3.6k

Summary: Things don't go well on your journey, but you make your way to Jackson.

Warnings: dub-con due to power imbalance, free use, sex as payment, vaginal sex, cum eating, oral (m & f receiving), anal fingering, Joel is mean/bad with feelings, this is not canon compliant, but minor canon character deaths are mentioned, no use of y/n, canon-typical violence and danger, graphic description of injury, graphic description of corpses (in a dream), dreams of major character death

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

a/n: hello my lovely friends. here we are at the penultimate chapter. next week is the final, with the epilogue a week later. there will be some "deleted scenes" one-shots, but I can't promise you a date on those. thank you so much to everyone who has stuck out this journey, i love you.

He doesn’t teach you to shoot. There isn’t the time. Not after what waits for him at Bill’s house.

It’s not safe to stay, not with the property unsecured as it’s been.

Instead, while Ellie showers, he fucks you. There’s no guarantee of shelter in the upcoming days, so he has you kneel on a plush armchair while he takes what he needs.

You arch your back and dig your fingers into the back of the chair while he opens you up, sucking and licking at your clit while he pries you apart with three fingers at once.

There isn’t the time for more. As soon as you’ve cum, he thrusts in smoothly, pushing relentlessly until he’s seated as deep within you as he can reach.

Now you’re really digging into the chair, face smooshed against it, while he fucks into you from behind. He spits on your asshole, pushing his thumb in behind it and fucking it into you, opposing the beats of his cock in your cunt.

You cum two more times as he works you over. It’s silent, both of you choking back gasps and whimpers and desperate words.

He pulls out abruptly and yanks on your arm until you twist around and get the message, falling to your knees before he fills your waiting mouth. You swallow him down eagerly.

He cups your cheek. “Good girl. Now go get ready; it’s your turn next,” he jerks his thumb toward the bathroom, where the shower is just being turned off.

And after that, there isn’t the time for anything. You can’t catch a moment safe enough to breathe, let alone learn to use a gun or fuck.

No, there wasn’t the time, but there were a thousand times you could have helped if there had been. Infected, hunters, the whole nightmare in Pittsburgh. You’re still not really sure how the three of you made it out.

You buried Sam and Henry, but their loss hangs on Ellie like she’s carrying their headstones in her backpack. There’s nothing you could do to protect her, not from the violence, not from the grief.

You can tell it’s all wearing Joel down, too. He’s less and less brusque, watching her from the peripherals. More and more, his anxious hands twitch, like he has to shake the blood off before he lays a finger on either of you.

Now that Ellie knows, though, it’s like he can't help himself. There’s a quiet desperation to the new, tiny ways he reassures himself that you’re both alive. The way his arm shoots out to steady her even if the path is safe, or the pat pat to her shoulder when it’s time to move forward.

His hands brush your shoulders when he passes by, fit to the small of your back to steer you, and his lips find your head so lightly that you often think you imagined it. The only thing that doesn’t change, the one thing you still wish would, is that you still sleep several feet apart.

It all rubs off on Ellie, too, and she sticks to your side more often than not and lets you wrap an arm around her shoulder sometimes—if it’s playful. Anything too close to affectionate, and she spooks. She’s still a little skittish with Joel, but they help each other easily, and the way she looks at him—like he has all the answers in the world—tells you more than anything else.

To be fair, you feel that way sometimes, too. He’s steadfast and sure, and the way he keeps his head in an emergency and protects both of you with every fiber of his core buys him both of your fierce loyalties.

After everything, it’s hard to believe you made it to Jackson even when you’re within its walls. Half dead, half defeated. And it’s so weird.

They clean you, clothe you, feed you, and all the while, you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. You can see it on Ellie’s face, too.

Neither of you expected it to come from Joel.

“I told you a thousand times, I can’t protect you out here,” he says, trying to keep his voice low even though he’s the one who chose to have this conversation just outside the mess hall.

“You have so far!” Your face is aflame, but you’re too consumed by it to be embarrassed, too busy burning with rage. Your vision is dark around the edges; the tunnel focused right on the way he raised his hands to placate you.

“Ain’t anywhere safer than here.”

“You said I’m always safer with you.”

You see him drop the act—or maybe put one on—before he speaks again; his eyes go hard, and he bares his teeth.

“Will you shut up?” he snarls. “Y’ain’t comin’ with me. That’s final.”

You snort, lip twitching into a sneer. Too many things to say snap across your brain, each crueler than the last, but you can’t get your hook in one. The tell-tale dryness in your throat makes you angrier.

Shaking your head, you look anywhere but him. Anywhere but his stupid, beautiful face. “Fuck you, Miller.”

You turn on your heel and leave, heavy steps maybe a little too much like stomping away for your pride. You get just down the street when his fingers wrap around your arm and yank.

His momentum pulls you hard against his chest, and he turns you with two tight hands on your shoulders. The heat of his mouth against yours is overwhelming, brain still scrambling to catch up, and he tangles a hand in your hair, biting at your lip.

When your senses come careening back, you shove him away. “Don’t you fuckin’ touch me. I don’t owe you anything for leaving me behind. I’ll never owe you anything again.”

He doesn’t come after you this time.

In the morning, after Joel shows his sheepish face, Ellie asks where you are.

“She ain’t comin’,” Joel says, but he won’t look her in the eye.

“You try to ditch her too?”

“She only ever wanted to be someplace safe. Now she is. Let’s go.”

Before they take off, he looks back at Tommy. His brother is shaking his head but throws his hands up as if to say, “sure, I’ll clean up your mess.”

“No, thank you,” you tell Tommy Miller for the third Friday in a row when he invites you to come to the Tipsy Bison and meet people. It’s not that he doesn’t bother you on other days; it’s that he’s full of a weekly rotating calendar of suggestions.

You decline all of them. He doesn’t seem to realize you have met people, and you’re just not interested in making friends. Not yet. He’s been here too long, you think, to remember life in the QZ. He thinks you’ll latch on to the sense of community.

“Just because we lived in the same building before doesn’t mean we need to be best friends,” you tell him, narrowed eyes burning the warning into him.

But he doesn’t get it. “Oh, nah, I forgot about that, actually. I just, since you—well, Joel—”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you tell him, not unkindly, with a pat on his shoulder.

“He’s just worried,” Maria says when you complain a little after weeks turn into months. “It’s the only mode he has right now. He about cried when I told him I was switchin’ partners today. But if he doesn’t want me going up to the lodge, then he’s gotta go with someone else.”

It’s a patrol for her and a lesson for you. Nothing too far from town, but she’s brought you out here to hunt since Joel never did get around to teaching you. You’re getting better. You haven’t caught anything, but you came close earlier. When you had startled the deer with the near-miss, she had taken it out while it ran off.

Ok, so maybe you aren’t getting a lot better. You can’t hit a still target, let alone a moving one. But you’ve stopped shaking when you raise the gun, so.

The carcass is draped over a saddle. You’re both walking since Maria can’t ride, but you’ve got two mares along in case there’s an emergency. Luckily, you make it back before she gasps in pain.

You grab her arm immediately, worried she’ll fall. “What’s wrong?”

One of the teens working the stables takes the horses' reins from you, already having passed the deer off to someone else.

“It’s probably nothing,” she says and grits her teeth.

“I’m going to send someone for Tommy,” you say.

“No! No, don’t freak him out. Will you help me to Alice?”

“Of course,” you say.

Alice’s house is close, given that it also functions as a clinic. She was a nurse once, retired before the world ended, but still hanging on.

“Could be Braxton-Hicks. False labor,” she tells Maria. “Hard to know for sure. You need to slow down. I don’t want to put you on bed rest, but I will.”

“You can try,” Maria mutters.

You’re hovering awkwardly in the next room, but with only an archway between them, it’s not like you can’t hear every word.

Maria comes out, Alice on her heels, reminding her about kick counting and proper hydration. You rock back and forth on your heels, dirty boots adding to the scuffs on the foyer floor.

“You make sure she goes straight home,” Alice tells you.

“Yes, ma’am,” you say, even though you know Maria will only go where she wants to.

To your surprise, though, she starts heading that way anyway. The contractions are still happening, but there’s no discernable pattern, and they don’t seem to be worsening. But it was enough to worry her, though she swore you to secrecy.

You don’t betray her, even when Tommy ends up stuck with you the next day. He’s taken over the foolhardy mission to teach you how to shoot.

No, the only person you betray that day is yourself.

Tommy is infuriatingly kind. There’s none of Joel’s coldness in him, even if they do share the same crooked grin. And Tommy’s eyes, the same shade and shape as Joel’s, are always warm.

He helps you readjust your grip on the pistol and, through a system of trial and error, figures out the whole reason you can’t hit the target.

“Shit, you’re left handed!” he says, like he’s solved world hunger. “Everyone’s been trying to get you to shoot with your right, huh?”

You hadn’t even thought about it, since you used two hands to shoot. You had just taken the positions they told you to, leading with your right foot but then targeting with your left eye on instinct. It takes a few tries to get comfortable with the change, but you manage to hit a rabbit before it’s time to head in.

“Holy shit,” you say, making sure the safety is on before you jump up and down. “Did you see that? Oh my god.”

Tommy’s beaming and he pulls you in for a hug. When he pulls back, he shakes his head. “I can’t believe Joel didn’t figure that out. He usually notices that kind of shit.”

Your stomach sours and the grin drops off, lost in the chilly breeze. “Joel didn’t teach me anything, Tommy. And I guarantee he has no clue I’m left handed.”

But that’s not true, you realize. He’d known that was half the reason you were slow at work, back when your wrist was broken. And now that you think about it, when he reached across the space between you to hand you things, it was always to your left.

The wind’s picked up, and the sun is starting to set. You’re thankful for both, because it means if Tommy does see how tears prick in the corners of your eyes, he might believe it’s the sharp bite of winter.

He doesn’t. You’re almost back to town when he stops you for a moment. “Look, I hate to ask—”

“So don’t.” It’s sharper than the breeze, and you feel bad immediately when the hurt flashes in his eyes. He'd kept himself from asking since the morning he told you Joel had gone with Ellie and that they'd both be back. You hadn't given him anything then, either.

“It’s just, I know you say there was nothin’ between—”

“It’s none of your business, Tommy, but like I’ve told you again and again, there’s nothin’ to even tell. I went out on jobs sometimes with him and Tess, and I got stuck on this one. S’all there is to it.”

“Alright, m’sorry. I’ll drop it,” he says, but you know he doesn’t buy it. After all, he’s the one that just taught you to use a gun. What use would you have been out there with them? But he lets it go and clicks his tongue so the horses pick back up toward home.

To his credit, he does drop it. But as Maria got further along, you found yourself on the wall with Tommy more and more as the winter turned harsh. You weren’t ready to be out in the more dangerous conditions, and Tommy was sticking close, just in case the baby came early.

Neither of you spoke of Joel, but you had the same dark circles and stress lines creeping in as the weather turned nasty. The looks you shared when the blizzards turned the snow from a problem to an emergency said enough.

You decide not to worry. Not to think about Ellie out there in the storm, not to think about how the cold will make it harder on Joel’s knees and the hand that never healed quite right. Instead, you focus your worry on Maria.

Which is to say, you and Tommy become irreparably bonded.

Winter is trailing off, but it gives one final performance when the baby is born. When the Davies’ boy comes to get you, you’re asleep on your sofa, the weak afternoon sun all but obscured by snow.

In your dream, you’re out on patrol with a faceless partner. Sometimes it’s Tommy, sometimes it’s Chris. Sometimes, like today, it’s just a blur. It doesn’t matter. They can never help.

It’s always too late. Whether buried in snow or leaves, you always find them half-decayed. Ellie’s skull cracked open, or head missing entirely. Joel's ribs cracked open, and his entrails long eaten away. Sometimes, his eyes are open, unmoving. Sometimes, Ellie’s hands, mostly bone and rotting flesh, are wrapped around a gun. Sometimes, it’s lined up with the hole in Joel’s head.

It doesn’t matter. You’re always too late.

This time, the knocking wakes you up as you find them less decayed than usual, almost whole, with crows pecking at Ellie’s eye and Joel’s ribcage. You almost throw up when you wake up—it’s never been quite so graphic.

“Miss?” the kid calls again.

You can’t tell him apart from his brothers, John or Mike or James or something, but you know why he’s there as soon as you open the door. You grab a jacket and shove your feet into boots to stumble out into the raging snow behind him.

The kid doesn’t seem to be in a rush, but it doesn’t stop your heart from pounding until your pulse is throbbing in your fingertips. You’re not sure when you started to love these people, but you know it’s too late now to turn back.

You’re not happy about how you ended up here, but you just might be able to be happy here.

Your panic is for nothing. The baby was born in the wee hours of the morning without incident. Alice tells you it’s a beautiful thing, how mothers' bodies never forget what to do, and through the uninhibited happiness of the occasion, you think you can see Kevin’s ghost on his mama’s lap.

She certainly does.

You hover awkwardly until Tommy reminds you that they want you there. It doesn’t go down easily, a raw feeling full of gravel as you swallow. You’re not sure you know the last time someone wanted you around. Not for what you could offer, but just for you. Maybe before.

You let him corral you into the bedroom and place Aléjandra in your arms while you sit on the side of the mattress near Maria. She looks a lot like her mama, in that approximate way that newborns do, like a photocopy picked up before the ink is dry, but she’s got her daddy’s nose.

The immediate love you feel for her is overwhelming. Like you’re the one rotting in the forest, chest cracked open for the crows to eat away at your heart. You think of the last baby you held—your sister, too long ago. After you’ve doted on her an appropriate amount, you make excuses about Maria needing sleep and slip out of the room.

Alice is more than happy to put you to work. She’s taken it upon herself to clean the Miller’s home and you lose yourself in it quickly. News spreads fast in town and, per Maria’s wishes, you field the well-wishers at the door, gathering and storing the casseroles and pies they bring, collecting little tokens or clothes for the baby into a basket to take upstairs later on.

A different one of the Davies’ boys comes to walk Alice home. Before she leaves, she stops you with a hand on your arm.

“Stay here tonight, would you please? I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, but sometimes we don’t know if there were issues with the afterbirth until later on.”

You nod and promise to get her right away if anything happens. Her description of what to watch out for makes you queasy again. Less because of the details like “golf ball sized blood clots” and more because you didn’t realize all the potential for danger. It spikes your anxiety back higher than the mountaintops.

You scrub your brain for something to tell Tommy and Maria. In the end, you don’t need to.

Tommy comes down the stairs a while later. “Hey, you can say no, but can I tempt you with our guest room rather than goin’ back out in the storm?”

When you accept, he puts on a stern face. “It’s just, I don’t want you havin’ to—hang on, did you say yes?”

“You had a speech all ready to go, huh?”

“Thought you’d fight me on it, yeah.”

“It’s nasty out there, Tommy. Thank you. Now go get some sleep while you can.” You’re familiar enough with their house to find your way, so you shoo him when he tries to help you get settled.

It’s not Maria or the baby that causes a ruckus in the middle of the night, though. It’s you.

The dreams are worse. It’s not just Joel and Ellie, it’s Tommy, Maria, and the baby, too. And they’re all alive when it starts.

There are no crows or critters. There are only men, nasty and bloodthirsty, and you’re hidden away while they’re cornered. Completely helpless, as usual. Unarmed. And you watch them tear into your family, watch them shoot Joel and Tommy first. It’s not until they lunge for Ellie that you can finally get your feet to move, to scream, to try to distract them.

It doesn’t matter. You’re always too late.

Tommy wakes you up, shaking you with hands on both shoulders. “Hey,” he says as you scramble to get away from him. “You’re okay, hon, you’re safe.”

You try to shove him off you, but he doesn’t let go.

“You’re safe. You’re at my house. Everything is okay,” he repeats in that calm, unnerved manner you’ve come to lean on.

You stop fighting him and focus on slowing your heaving chest, on bringing air to your lungs. That’s when you hear the baby crying.

“Oh, shit, Tommy. I’m so sorry. I woke her up, didn’t I?”

“She was already up eatin’,” he lies. “Just scared us all a little.”

“Sorry, fuck. I’m sorry. I’ll go home so y’all can rest.”

“Now, I’m not gonna let ya do that. You think any of us haven’t been there? Hell, if it wasn’t you, it probably woulda been me. It’s not the first or last time someone’ll wake everyone in this house yellin’ for Joel.”

Your heart sinks, and you stare at the blanket, folding and unfolding a pinched corner of it.

“I know you don’t wanna tell me,” he starts, and you look further away from him, staring at the windowsill. “But I gotta ask you a question. And I’d really like it if ya answered.”

You don’t respond, which he takes as permission to continue.

“Were you afraid of him or for him?”

You look at him, startled, and blink stupidly for a minute.

“He never hurt me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You wanna talk about the dream?” Maria says from the doorway, Alé over her shoulder.

“Not really. Nothin’ special. Rotating cast of people I know dead or dying. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Stop apologizin’. But if you wanna make up for it…” the glimmer is back in Tommy’s eyes, and he’s grinning like he’s got a poorly kept secret.

You don’t need to read minds to guess. The baby’s eyes are wide and shiny. “Want me to hang out with her for a while until she’s ready to go back to sleep?”

“Please.”

It’s not until Alé is asleep in your arms at their kitchen table, just the two of you in the strip of moonlight, that you think about it, about how that feeling of family from your dream had seeped out into real life, and you let yourself cry.

next chapter

*title from "Jars" by Chevelle

[authorred]

Miguel O’Hara bondage headcanons because I’m a degenerate | Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader

Masterlist

Preface: Trying to get Miguel to relax and allow someone else to take control of the reigns is no easy feat. What happens when he finally does after a while of suspicion and hesitation?

I’ve never watched Across the Spiderverse :)

This will definitely be NSFW (18+) so minors DNI (do not interact). Unless you do, which in that case I refuse to be held responsible for the content you consume.

Warning(s): NSFW

Bondage with Miguel being the rigger is one thing, but bondage with Miguel being the rope bunny is an entirely different experience

It takes a long time to get Miguel to even think about it

It’s not so much a kink/fetish thing as it is a trust thing

Being tied up/restrained is not an easy thing to let someone do to you

Miguel is so used to being in control of quite literally everything that the thought of someone else trying to take over makes him extremely uncomfortable and uneasy

No one will do it better than him and/or do it correctly like he would

Miguel has no issue being the rigger because he knows what to do and he’s used to being the one in control

You need to start slow. That is imperative

Handcuffs might not work because he could just snap them

Silk rope. And lots of it.

If you’re going to bind him, you have to bind all of him

Just doing his arms will make him feel uneasy and unsecure 

Tell him exactly what you’re doing when you’re doing it and before you do it

If you’re going to wrap the rope around his shoulders, tell him

If you’re going to wrap it around his torso or his wrists, tell him

Never stop communicating

Assure him constantly

I don’t mean baby talk or praises

Tell him he’s safe

Tell him it’s okay to be and feel vulnerable, and that it’s okay to let someone else take control temporarily

You need to know what you’re doing

If you’re a baby rigger who’s never tied a knot before or are looking at google instructions whilst doing it, forget it

He needs to know you’re competent. He needs that assurance

When you’re done with the binds, just sit there with him. Show him nothing bad will happen if he relaxes for a little

He’ll pull at the binds and start getting frustrated at the lack of movement

Gently touch him or talk to him to get him distracted

He’ll be tense and semi-stressed

Gently run your hands over the parts of him he likes best

Get him to stare into your eyes

He will be vulnerable and he knows it--show him you are a safespace

Eventually when he does relax and calm down, untie him

Tell him it was a good first session

When he inevitably goes, ‘. . . first session?’ say it’d be overwhelming to do anything on his first try

He might still be hesitant, but considerably less than before

The second session he’d be a bit more relaxed and you won’t have to assure him as much. He might even smile

Repeat what you did the first time: Just sit there and be his safespace

Eventually his body will slack against the ropes, and that’s when you can slowly transition to sexual activities

When you tell him you want to try ‘x’ with him whilst he’s tied up, he won’t outright shirk away, but he won’t be over the moon either

Start slow, again

Touch him gently and softly--always let him know where it is you’re going to touch, either verbally or by obvious gestures

He won’t make much noise at first

His muscles will pull and tense at the binds, but he won’t protest the sting and constriction

In a way, the binds force him to relax

When you reach a point where you both can comfortably engage in sexual acts when he’s bound, it’s like a religious experience (the good kind)

Always warm him up with either head or a handjob. Don’t make him cum though

Get him to a point of desperation and need--be gentle about it though

Always assume being gentle unless he specifies otherwise

He might accidentally snap a rope or two

It’s fine he’ll pay for more

You might have to get tied up and fucked in return tbh, depends on your dynamic

[thefirstlioveyou]

maybe this is more fanfic-y (and yes this ties with lettergate and that sus st writers tweet), but imagine s5 will walking in the woods, and he grows familar with where they’re at - near where castle byers was at.

he begins looking to find the destroyed pile of castle byers, just out of pure curiosity. he was expecting it to be all blown away by now from the cold and windy winter of 1985 he’d probably missed. but when he finds it… he finds it to be put together. well, not exactly how it was before - far from that. but, there was some sort of effort made by someone. couldn’t be just anyone. why would anyone care for something like this?

he gently rests a hand on the top, kneeling to sneak a peak inside, then falls an unsecure stick. his eyes following the stick, a bit buried, but noticable. he grabs it and opens it up.

the paper seems to have been crumbled before.

“dear will,

i’m sorry i hurt you like this. when you left, i couldn’t keep thinking about this. it felt like something wasn’t fixed. i never got to apologize for what i said that day when we were talking about el and the party, about how you don’t like girls. that was way out of line of me, and i didn’t mean it. i sounded just like the assholes that always bullied you i bet.

i guess i was just mad at myself. that whole summer, everything changed into something i didn’t like it. i was trying so hard to fit in with everyone else. lucas had max and maybe i just felt left out. did you ever feel like you were just trying to like things because people say you’re supposed to? i don’t like having a girlfriend. that makes me so weird, maybe crazy. but, i’m telling you this because you’re the only one that can accept my craziness, and because i lied to you and you deserve the truth - i can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy. i feel so wrong, i feel like i’m making a mistake. it should be el that makes me feel like this - any girl. but i don’t want a girlfriend, i don’t want to be popular, i don’t want things to change. i want to be with you playing dnd forever. i want you to be by my side forever. i don’t want to lose you like that again.

anyway i think you’ll like how i renovated castle byers. sorry i couldn’t get it done the way it probably was before, running on memory here. but you mean so much to me i just couldn’t not do anything and it’s been killing me just letting it be. hope this is gonna at least last until whenever you come back. winter’s gonna be strong this year.

love, mike”

will’s just… crying, shaking. he’s a jittery mess as his heart pounds from true happiness. he folds the letter and puts it in his pocket. he felt something had been repaired in his heart. it was at its fullest, had it not been in many, many years.

he sits inside the castle smiling to himself

[treacletartlett]

Watery problems

going to the lake for a swim with your closest friends sounded fun, until you encountered a certain problem, not having a suitable bathing suite really made the nervousness gnaw at your head, but revealing this much of yourself to harry really seemed to catch his attention...

this kinda turned into a Romione fanfic, but they rock so it's fine!!!!

contains sexual content!

spending a hot day at the lake with your favourite people sounded amazing, especially since Harry, who you've been attracted to for quite some time, will be there, meaning you'd see him in less than you've had for ages.

while looking through your luggage, you found absolutely nothing you could wear to swim. the stupidness of your situation really hit, and you realised that it was actually the dumbest thing to forget while spending summer vacation with your friends.

being in Ginny's room, she obviously knew of your situation.

"here, try these. they're my other pair, I'm sure they'll fit you great." she smiled, while handing over the tiniest scrap of fabric over to you.

you and Ginny had very different body types, as she was on the shorter side, being 5'2 (180 cm), pretty skinny with a smaller chest and butt. you, on the other hand, were a couple inches taller and had a fuller chest and a slightly curvier body compared to hers.

it wasn't a rather big difference, but with bathing suits it matters much more than with other clothing types.

"Ginny, I don't think this will fit, or at least cover the necessary parts." you croaked, not wanting to walk around feeling like you're dressed to go to a hooker's house.

Ginny huffed, and turned away to look at herself in the mirror. she was twisting and turning, seeing how her perfect fitting bikini looked on her while talking to you.

"just try it on, okay? even if it showed a little more than you normally wear, it's only us. plus, you've got a hot bod, you need to show it off more." she grinned while turning to look at you.

you blushed, standing in front of Ginny and Hermione, all three of you so exposed in a tiny room really lifted the tension for you, but you noticed Ginny seemed as comfortable as ever.

"she's right you know," Hermione replied. "we've already seen you naked multiple times, and Ron and Harry probably won't mind..." she trailed off, seemingly in a moment of thought. "quite the opposite perhaps. anyway, it doesn't matter. we're all very revealed, and there's going to be no one but us. unless you feel uncomfortable of course.."

her soft voice calmed your nerves. she looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to answer.

the thing is, you weren't really sure. I mean, Ginny and Hermione weren't a problem, but Harry and Ron? Ron would definitely keep his eyes on Hermione, so in principle he didn't matter that much either, but Harry? that was difficult.

"no you're right, both of you. I'll just try it on and see if I'll wear it or not, besides, if I choose not to, I don't have to swim with you guys today. I'll buy a new bathing suite when we go to the stores or something." you shrugged, trying to act like this didn't bother you.

it wasn't that big a deal, but still, something kept making your heart rate go up when you thought of Harry and Ron seeing you like that.

anyway, you stripped from your underwear, leaving you completely naked. first, you slipped the bottom on, which resembled a thong more than anything, and exposed your whole ass. after, you asked Ginny to tie the knots of the top.

looking in the mirror, you observed the flimsy piece of fabric.

the triangles supposed to fit over your breasts only covered parts of them, enough to hide your nipples, but not enough to support and cover your whole breasts. the string tying it all together was thin, instead of being at the bottom of the triangles, it was attached to the corner, which resulted in it being in the middle, making it feel unsecured at the back of your back. the one going to your neck was short, making it feel like the top will jump up at any given moment.

the bottoms were low, stopping just above your pubic bone. a small piece of fabric managed to cover your private parts, but it left your whole ass exposed.

to summarise it, there was a very big chance of you flashing everyone the moment you step into the water. you felt very naked and exposed, thinking about how you would face the boys looking like this.

you knew they've probably seen naked women countless times, but this was different. you were their best friend, and who says this won't warp their image of you to them? if it were the other way around, you didn't think you could ever think the same about them, having seen them so exposed. you already got chills seeing Harry shirtless.

"you look great! see, I knew it would fit perfectly. right Hermione?" Ginny's ecstatic took you by surprise, even more did her words. you weren't sure if she was kidding, was she actually being serious about this bathing suite fitting perfectly? you loved her enthusiasm and support, but still, it has got to be a joke.

"yeah, it's actually not that bad, seeing as it's just us, though if we were going to a public place, I wouldn't agree, but it's just us, so I agree." Hermione smiled gently. she looked absolutely fabulous in her dark pink one piece, classy but gorgeous. Ginny rocked her navy bikini, sitting perfectly on her.

then there were you, wearing almost nothing in red. you almost laughed at the irony, but oh well, what would you do about it?

they were right, it's just us, nothing to worry about. you did want to see Harry's reaction, even though you felt a bit perverted about it...

"I wouldn't say it fits perfectly, but it's alright, I guess." you mumbled, turning away from the mirror and grabbing your stuff.

Ginny and Hermione did the same, all of you tidying up the place a bit before leaving.

while you all dropped your stuff in a bag, there was a knock on the door.

"can I come in? you all better be dressed!" Ron's gruff voice yelled through the door. Hermione instantly blushed, seemingly flustered by the thought of them seeing each other in less than usual for once.

you and Ginny grinned ear to ear, used to Hermione's and Ron's back and forth flirting. it got time they made a move, but they were both too shy and awkward.

"oh no, definitely not Ron, we're all butt naked!" Ginny yelled back while laughing, then she quickly pulled open the door, making Ron scream out of fear, covering his eyes quickly. he was wearing his orange shorts, complimenting his hair and freckles brilliantly.

this made the three of you burst out in laughter, clutching your stomach from how red Ron was getting.

"oh so funny, Gin, you're so hilarious." he spat out, agitated by his little sister's theatrics.

"I know, I'm hilarious, Ron. anyway, what do you want?" she breathed out, coming down from the laughter, also red, but in contrary to Ron, from bursting because of that.

"mum said we're leaving, so you need to come down now-" his words got caught in his chest when he saw Hermione behind us, looking flustered and blushing furiously.

they stared at each other in silence for a couple seconds before Ron spoke up.

"uh- well uh, mum said to call for you because we're waiting a-and she uhh, she made lunch for us to take with." he stammered, all in love and pathetic.

Hermione was so red she could explode. Ginny and I glanced at each other, grinning and trying to hold in our laugh.

as expected, Ron couldn't look at anything other than Hermione. he either looked all around him, avoiding her sight, or he only stared at her, his eyes could burn holes through her as we were walking down the stairs, where Harry awaited.

he was leaning against the back of the couch, wearing his dark blue swimming shorts, looking bored.

you inhaled a deep breath, your heart skipping a beat. butterflies and nerves danced in your stomach, and spread all over you body.

you've seen him shirtless a couple times, but they were all some years ago, when you were both children and immature.

he grew taller, obviously, and his body much more toned. quidditch and all the action making him more muscular.

his arms looked strong, his muscles visible as he rested them on the back of the couch. his quads were incredible, his legs toned and beautiful. his chest, oh God, his chest and stomach. they were sight of Heaven.

his abs weren't too intense, but just perfect.

you couldn't stop staring, and before you knew it your eyesight followed down his v-line, wondering what it led to underneath his shorts.

you caught yourself, turning red at the fact you thought of such things when everyone was around you. scared someone could suddenly read your mind, you looked around you, trying to distract yourself.

when he noticed everyone coming down the stairs he looked up, first, grinning at Ron and Hermione, looking like they wanted to throw up, but also like they wished they were alone and wearing less.

"you seem a tad bit red there, Ron. you alright mate?" he said, not being able to contain his grin. he patted Ron on the back, while Ron shot a glare that could burn this whole house down at him.

Harry chuckled, his chest vibrating with force, something so mundane, it made you clench your thighs.

"right, sorry Ron." he put his fist to his mouth, trying to hide his enjoyment. Ron ignored him and turned away, trying not to look at Hermione but failing.

he turned towards you, Ginny, and Hermione, smiling slightly at her, before looking at you and Ginny.

He greeted you both with a smile, which you both returned.

"hey Harry!" Ginny greeted before turning away to talk with her mother, leaving you standing there awkward and alone, while Hermione and Ron were finally trying to make small talk, resulting in Harry having his whole attention focussed on you.

His eyes skimmed your body briefly. He seemed slightly disconcerted, obviously not expecting you to wear something like this. you thought you saw a hint of judgement in his expression, but for the most part, he hid his thoughts and emotions, his face blank.

You blushed, immediately turning pink. You stood awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers and looking away from his eyes. suddenly feeling self conscious, your arms were wrapped around you. you felt the need to explain yourself.

"I-I didn't have my own bathing suite so I had to borrow Ginny's..." you mumbled, embarrassed and chuckling awkwardly.

"and, heh, as you, uh, can see it's a bit too small." you continued, trying to lessen the tension with humour, but it clearly didn't work, as Harry returned your awkward laugh with his own.

"it's alright, not that bad, it's just us here." Harry assured you. he turned away, relieving you of his gaze on your revealed form.

Ginny walked back, a bag of food in her hands which she handed over to Harry to carry. Ron and Hermione quieted, and got ready to leave.

while the guys carried all the heavy stuff, you and the girls carried your own bag and talked while walking. you kept thinking of Harry's gaze, of him assessing your body, even if it was brief, for some reason it turned you on.

you felt ridiculous, desperate, and self conscious. it didn't seem as if he thought you were attractive, but he didn't show any thought about you at all.

the lake wasn't far away. first you had to walk a path that went through part of the forest, but when you arrived you were mesmerised by the sight in front of you.

while Harry and Ron set up the space, placing towels, the parasol, and a small table with chairs, you and the girls set down your bags and watched them.

when they finished everyone took their spot on their towel, grabbing food from the bag Ron's mother gave you. you noticed your towel was right next to Harry's. he was on the far end, having Ron's next to Hermione's.

you ate in silence while the rest talked. you felt to awkward to talk to Harry, constantly having to fix your bathing suite every couple minutes.

on the contrary, Harry seemed at ease for the first time in a long time. he was smiling constantly and laughing, his shoulders hung, his hair falling in front of his face. it was purely and angelic sight.

his eyes met yours, and at that moment you realised you were staring at him for a good couple minutes, and your face flushed. Harry cocked his head sideways, his brow raised.

for some reason, you felt even more heat licking your insides, embarrassment filling you even more.

harry finished his sandwich, and beckoned you to him with his hands. surprise filled you until you played it off and cleaned the crumbs off yourself. you crawled on his towel and sat next him, his body heat engulfed you completely, his skin touching yours, making arousal grow inside you even more.

he bend slightly to whisper something in your ear, his hot breath like a caress against your skin. your breath shook, your heartbeat increased eratically.

"I can see it on your bottoms." he whispered, making sure no one else could see.

you turned your head to look at him, your lips close enough that less than an inch movement would result in collision. his big green eyes stared at you, almost like a deer. the sight made a shiver wrack up your body, awakening a need so deep you weren't sure you could function without satiating it.

"w-what?" confusion laced your question, your mind out of the riddles, only focused on the half naked Harry in beside you.

"your bottoms, I can see the spot," his answer didn't clear the air at all, and you weren't sure he meant literally or not, so you hadn't dared to look down.

"they're soaked." he finished, his sentence caught in your mind, your throat suddenly dry. you turned away from him, shame filled your guts to the point you felt you would explode from embarrassment.

you closed your legs, hoping everything was still covered and harry wouldn't be able to see your arousal anymore. he kept looking at you, as if waiting for your reply. suddenly, his hand found your shoulder, his warm skin resting on yours, sending tingles down your spine. he gently squeezed, lowering his head towards you, trying to catch your eye.

"no one has noticed," he chuckled slightly. "except for me." his soft and low voice sent butterflies frantic in your stomach, having to hold in your breath in case something other than a breath would escape you.

he didn't even do anything to you, and for some reason you still feel the need to let out a soft moan. suppressing yourself took all your strength, and harry moving closer to you, his side touching your back completely, didn't help at all.

"y/n," his hand wind up in your hair, rubbing your head soothingly. "look at me please." he urged slightly, this all taking you by surprise, but also mortifying you, and still, for some reason, turning you on.

his request lingered for a couple seconds, then, you turned to him. his eyes were already on you, his face expressionless. his hand was still in your head, his arm resting on your shoulder, his other hand was in his lap.

"don't," he smiled slightly. "be embarrassed."

you felt his words didn't help you at all, in contrary bringing more shame upon you than before. you looked down again, your back hurting from your hunched over posture. playing with your fingers, a thing you did often when you're nervous, harry's hands found yours, stopping you from squirming.

"it's okay, really." he pushed, seemingly desperate to make you open up. "what were you thinking about?"

his question startled you, speeding up your heart rate, your mind scrambling for a reply.

when harry noticed you struggle, he spoke up, nudging you softly, in a jokingly matter. "you can tell me, I promise."

you stayed silent, this whole conversation throwing you off balance. you weren't sure if you should be honest, and tell him you were thinking about him. he was your best friend after all, and nothing happened years prior that would indicate otherwise. it would either make everything awkward between you two, or end in something that could possibly bring you either regret or pleasure.

"you," you whispered back, taking the risk, since life is about taking risks after all, right?

"I figured." he smiled. silence filled the space except for the chatter behind you, reminding you of your friends' presence.

"oi y/n and I are gonna leave for a bit don't wait up with getting in the water yeah?" harry suddenly called out, surprising you completely.

he stood up and grabbed your arm, pulling you with him while the others nodded and resumed talking. he walked you through the forest, arriving at a place where it's completely quiet, your friends's voices unheard.

"harry, what are you doing?" you asked, nervous and butterflies dancing in your stomach. he pushed you against a large tree, darkness surrounded you seeing as the greens were covering the sky by how tall they were.

"thought we could use a more private space," he answered, still talking softly even though no one could hear you. "don't you think?" his hands caged you in, his face inches from yours. his torso not quite pressed against you but still feeling his warmth.

you nodded, all words in your vocabulary fleeting from your mind. your arms hing at your sides, you felt paralysed, standing rigid against the tree while harry stood so confidently in front of you.

"y/n, what were you thinking about me?" he asked, his big green eyes giving him an innocent look. his hand found your face again, caressing your cheek while admiring your features. "it's okay, you can be honest." he encouraged you, feeling that you hesitated.

"w-well I thought about y-you with me." embarrassment filled you, your feeble answer making you look and feel weak, knowing harry thought that about you too.

"and what happens when I'm with you?" he pressed slightly.

"we're all alone, a-and," you took a deep breath. "we didn't have any clothes on, and we're laying on the floor, next to each other." looking down, you realised it sounded more ridiculous out loud than in your head, which burned your face even more.

"why are we laying on the floor? what happened? what were you thinking about?" harry bombarded you, gently, but obviously waiting for your answer.

"well, we had sex, on the floor where I put on this bathing suit, and you found me. and the only thing I could think about was you, almost naked, and how you looked like underneath." you whispered the last part, feeling it's too erotic to say out loud.

"more? was that it, or is there something else?" he urged, your words not affecting him by the slightest. his finger tilted your chin up, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

"I thought about what you would be thinking seeing me like this, I- I wanted to see how you would react to this, and how pretty you are, and how I've always been attracted to you, and always wanted something- something more." word by word you grew some confidence, harry seemed to like hearing your thoughts, not the least bit thrown off or uncomfortable, the opposite actually.

"you really think I'm pretty?" he asked, his voice containing a hint of vulnerability, his cheeks getting a rosy tint. of all the things he could say, this was the last thing you expected. you couldn't really imagine harry blushing, especially not by something you said, so seeing it in real life made your heart stop for a second.

"I do." you replied, smiling slightly at him. he smiled back, leaning in slowly, until your lips touched for the first time.

it felt better than you've ever imagined. his soft lips only made the gentles contact with yours for milliseconds, and still, it exceeded all your expectations.

when you broke apart, heart beating out of your chest, harry smiled, keeping eye contact with you. you knew where this was heading, and even though you both haven't done this, you were anticipating the moment.

"are you okay with all of this?" harry asked, which elevated your feelings and anticipation even more. you nodded, trying to constrict your smile but failing miserably. it was all going so fast, and you weren't sure what to think.

"say it, y/n. and don't hide your smile, I love it."

your heart burst.

"y-yes, I'm okay." you managed to croak out, impatient for harry's touch on your skin.

the second the words left your mouth he began kissing you, rough and needy, but still giving you time to adjust and devour each other. his hands found their way to your bikini strings, and pulled, making your top fall to the ground.

you gasped in his mouth, your hands quickly went to cover yourself, but harry stopped you, holding your hands in his, and kissing the tops of your fingers.

"it's okay, you're beautiful." he mumbled, admiring you. you admitted there wasn't much difference to you with the top on, but still, it made you a little nervous being so exposed to harry.

but your worries calmed immediately, harry's smile and sprinkling eyes settling your nerves and make you feel good about everything, including yourself.

he led your hands to the elastic waistband of his shorts, guiding you to taking them off of him. he slid them down his legs until he removed them entirely, leaving him completely naked.

you felt better with him exposing himself entirely first, making it feel safer for you. he was an absolute piece of art. even though you've already seen most of him, you get to see his most private parts, which you loved.

he was beautiful. absolutely mesmerising, and you couldn't and didn't want to take your eyes off of him.

he was already hard, and his eyes were watching your face, seemingly waiting for a reaction, or response.

"harry," you whispered to him, stepping closer until his cock touched your leg. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, his hands meeting your waist instantly. "you're so beautiful."

harry blushed immediately, apparently not used to getting compliments like that before. it made your heart ache, knowing he doesn't get genuine compliments often, but also knowing he obviously loved getting them from you and feeling grateful sends butterflies swarming in your stomach.

"t-thank you," he answered, not knowing how to show that he appreciated it more than you think, but he didn't have to, you thought, you knew how he felt by his eyes.

you kissed him again, and harry came back in his element, pushing you completely flat against the tree, his hands finding your thighs, spreading them lightly. his fingers found your clit, eliciting a low moan from you.

he pulled back, watching you intently while moving his fingers through your folds, wetness coating every inch of you. he gently pushed one finger inside you, moving softly deeper and deeper, letting you adjust and just seeing what's comfortable. when he found a good pace, his fingers moved rhythmically in and out, making you throw your head back, the sounds of your moans filling the space around you.

"harry, please." you breathed, not entirely sure what you're begging for.

but harry seemed to understand, and removed his fingers from inside of you, standing flush between your thighs, lifting you slightly, pubic bones touching, and him hard and warm against your wetness.

"I know, baby." he mumbled, holding your head, brushing your hair from your face. his other hand held you, supporting you by your waist.

tears formed in your eyes, your lips parted, breathing heavily. when you and harry made eye contact, something shifted in the air, and suddenly you got the urge to laugh.

it seemed harry had the same feeling, because as soon as your lips broke into a wide smile, harry began laughing softly, you joining him not long after.

"God, you're perfect, did you know that?" harry said, after catching his breath. you smiled shyly, a blush spreading on your already rosy cheeks, yet again.

he pushed your bikini to the side, admiring you. then, slowly, he sinked into you, stretching you an unbearable amount. he groaned, while you let out a soft moan, relishing in the warm feeling of him filling you up completely.

at first, it hurt a little, not used to the feeling, but after you adjusted, and he began moving into you slowly, pain turned into pleasure, making you throw your head back.

"oh my God, harry." you moaned, your hands found his hair, tugging at it gently. harry's lips were parted, his nose and cheeks tinted pink, breathing heavily.

he leaned down, kissing your neck. one of his hands left your thigh to hold your breast. his thumb worked your nipple while he squeezed, eliciting a load cry from you, the pleasure overtaking your body.

he thrusted into you faster and faster until he found a steady pace to keep up. you cried out, and harry moaned into your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin. the sounds of you and skin hitting skin filled the forest, and you silently prayed ginny, ron, and hermione couldn't hear you.

you didn't bother keeping the noise down, though. it all felt too good that you didn't want to bother yourself with something like that. you loved hearing harry's sounds, his moans and cries elevating the pleasure.

"oh, y/n. you feel so good." he whined into your neck, his lips and tongue touching every part of skin they can reach, including your chest, and up, kissing and biting at your collarbone and going to your jaw, licking every part. when he reached your lips he kissed you so fiercely, not giving you the opportunity to catch your breath.

the hand that's holding you up was digging into your thigh so hard you were sure it would leave marks, aside the scratching of your back against the tree, surely turning your entire back red. but at the moment, you didn't care. harry was touching you everywhere, and that's the only thing crossing your mind right now.

you grew wetter and wetter, your arousal dripping down your legs while harry's thrusting into you hard. he entered himself completely, not even leaving an inch of himself to go without you. it felt like he was in your stomach, even though you knew that would be impossible. but the visual of his print inside you on your stomach when you looked down got you close to the tipping point. you didn't think it was possible for him, or anything else in that matter, to go deeper, feeling like he was constantly hitting the end of you, pushing against your cervix.

you pulled away, taking in as much air as possible, harry's face against the side of yours, breathing against you. his hair was falling over his eyes, sweat laced both of your bodies, both of your wetness coating your skin.

"oh, harry, I'm close, so close." you cried out, feeling the sinking feeling of being thrown over the edge, wave after wave crashing into you. harry's mouth lowered to your nipples, his warmth engulfing them, his finger to your clit, rubbing it up and down fastly.

"go on baby, come, for me." and that's all it took for you to fall over the edge.

your orgasm hit you so hard you lost your breath. pleasure overtook your body completely, making you cry out to harry loudly, clinging on to him while bucking and moving against him. harry's arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly until you came down, making sure to support you.

"God, harry." you yelled, feeling like it would never end. you tightened against him, feeling him come closer and closer. the after waves of your orgasm hit you hard, with harry's continued thrusts lengthening the ongoing shivers.

"y/n," harry called, and you knew immediately he's going to come. you pulsed around him, moving against him to meet him faster. "come, harry, please." after pulling his hair, and licking and sucking his neck, he came with a moan.

his pace became sloppy, and he slowed while riding out his orgasm. his hot cum filled you, covering your walls. after he came down, he pulled out slowly, making sure you're supported and slowly lowering you again.

he leaned his forehead against you while you both caught your breaths. he chuckled, holding your face and leaving a kiss on your lips. you smiled at him, hugging him to you tightly.

"you were great." he suddenly whispered to you. he held you tighter against him, resting his head on your shoulder. you did the same, breathing in his scent.

you realised you had to go back sometime, but for now you opted to stay with here with harry for just a while longer.

[selitoxicmoon]

And for the Spyro and Crash gang members' personalities in your AU, what are they like?

I will start with the Spyro Gang, as a really old post of like 2020, I started with a base and later started to shape their personalities:

Spyro: He's mostly a self-caring dragon which only cares about his physical and actually a very narcissistic behavior (very similar to Skylanders Academy behavior and Spyro the Dragon). He's already a hero alongside Crash for saving the dragon kingdom from Cynder's Corruption (the past) and with it he and Crash became famous and heroes so people always say good stuff to them and Spyro rising his own pride, he works as influencer/streamer btw.

Ember: She's sensible and very innocent, the kindest dragon you would ever met. She works as fashionist (outfit designer) and her bestie is Tawna as she works along her side. She is an extrovert like Spyro, a loving and caring mostly for others specially for Cynder as she alongside Flame tries to help Cynder to have a better social life and go outside home. She loves going shopping, usually never goes alone bc Flame is always there to be her guard.

Flame: He's usually shy to meet new people, he's pretty unsecure around people, thinking everyone is judging him. To prevent those thoughts, he's a very good athlete and acrobat! He tries to not look like a fierce looking fire dragon like his father and bloodline, but with the exception to hurt, but be a protector of his most loved ones. He has a little issue, he might look self-confident, but he's really easy to manipulate.

Cynder: The deepest lore I've got for her is pretty tough. She's an introvert, after her corruption and being a Dark Dragon, people around the city is scared of her or even tho just bully her and reminds her what she did, outside is a nightmare for her, judging eyes, whispers, blames, etc. Ember and Flame try their best to protect her from those people and judges by replying back, in Spyro case is not the same than self-proclaim Cynder's savior like if she has to owe him something. She's a gamer, usually play violence games like Doom (lmao), but she has an inner talent that doesn't wanna show, she's a good singer, a good musician specially with electric guitar. She had a crush to someone (I rather people guess) once Spyro introduced his gang to Crash's Gang/family, that leaded her to try to get out of the closet with Crash's family help. Yeah and, she always, always, blames herself on anything, that leads to blame others when she's actually mad at herself.

----------------------- CRASH FAMILY -----------------------

Crash: Being the same crazy bandicoot, he had to put some clothes on to live in the city (bc he was freezing lmao). He's a shameless person that cares mostly for the others he loves, with his loving girlfriend Tawna, they're completely a wholesome couple. Crash doesn't seem like to use his brain that much lol, but either way he has some sense of humor and knows perfectly when there's something wrong, he can't talk, but he learnt sign language (thank you Tawna). Ah yes btw, he works as fashion model, you're welcome.

Coco: Your confident and crazy loving bandicoot, influencer and streamer. Coco have some sort of feelings for Spyro, they're super friends but they have some attraction which Cynder is kinda worried about. Coco's best friend is Ember, both of 'em loves to go together shopping and sometimes with Flame when he's available. She's good at technology and creating machines and inventions, it's like her hobby. She has more brain than his brother Crash but at least she's a caring sister who tries the best healthcare for herself and her loved ones.

Crunch: He's the strongest! Redeemed from Cortex's control (pretty similar to Cynder with Malefor), Crunch is a very caring brother like Coco, caring for his loved ones healthcare. He's gym trainer alongside his bestie Tiny Tiger, he stills learn about emotions to understand physical behaviors that are results of emotional issues. He's very self-confident but never says no to some life lessons and advices, he's your number 1 supporter that will be there for you to love yourself and never give up!

Tawna: A lovely motherlike bandicoot, Tawna is the best at everything and she's very smart that understands life very well. She was always trying to learn something new to use these knowledges to care and help more her family and with it, her loving ones. Tawna works of so many stuff, she is trying always to help everyone and make everyone happy (that's a big issue), volunteer in healthcare, baker, chef, even the most is with Ember as making her outfit designs become real and wearable. Her agenda is very tight, but she never says no to a family meeting, she never shows her stress than her eyebags of restless days. She's friend of everyone and tries anything to help anyone in need, specially for Cynder and Ember.

GOD I NEVER THOUGHT I COULD WRITE ALL THAT DAMN, Thank you man for the question, i'm happy you're interested of this AU even if it's (for now) cancelled. Now I can put this in my personal notes to never forget TwT

[fastcardotmp3]

💛wip wednesday💛

tagged by the incomparable @judasofsuburbia! (and also from the wip weekend i never fulfilled: @kkpwnall @snowangeldotmp3 @fragilecapric0rnn) mwah for my beloveds!

today i offer some more of that elusive 9-1-1 fic because it's hit 30k of egregiously out of order scenes so apparently i really mean it for real now......

“I’m so mad at you,” he croaks, pulling himself and his chair impossibly close up beside the bed so his knees are knocking against the rails and he’s all but crawling under the covers with Eddie. 

With Eddie. He’s known this whole time that it was Eddie in that bed, Eddie not waking, Eddie hurt and still and silent. But right now he knows that it’s Eddie, right now it sinks in. 

It’s only been a week, but all of the time between right now and shotfalldragbegpressurebegI’mokaybegbegbeg has lasted an entire lifetime and that’s Eddie Diaz in that bed. 

That’s Eddie’s fate, hanging loose and unsecure in the balance of an unknowable hurricane. 

Buck’s hands shake and he yearns to reach out and touch, but his life is changing and he can’t stomach the thought of it, let alone the sensation. The muscle memory of it would hurt, he thinks, the feeling of that skin and the weight of that palm where it has rested on Buck’s shoulder– gripping with intention– or slapping at the center of his back, grabbing him by the forearm to help pull him to his feet. 

The muscle memory would wreck him, because he needs the numbness as much as he needs it to be working in a different avenue right now. Autopilot. Basic life functions. Not the touch of a man only technically alive. Not his warmth. 

“You have to come back,” he demands, a crack in his voice but a determination which drags it out to full strength. “You have to wake up, Ed, because I’m not enough for that kid. I’m never gonna be enough, and he deserves enough, you understand? He deserves to have the dad that loves him more than anything, and it’s your job to come back and give that to him. Don’t you dare even consider doing it any other way, because, because, because—”

Choking. Like muscle memory. Like a scar at the base of his throat. 

“I’ll have your back with this, but it’s not optional,” he leans in, still not touching, but close enough to study the unmoving press of lashes against cheeks. “You don’t get to leave us.” 

He chooses not to see the irony when he walks out the door. 

tagging with zero pressure and one trillion love! @cheatghost @capriciouslyterminal @figthefruitfaeth @yournowheregirl @yourbestclothes get re-tagged idiot (affectionate): @snowangeldotmp3 @kkpwnall @fragilecapric0rnn

[shikinnie]

I wish i'd seen you sooner

«it must have hurt so bad seeing the girl you like loving someone else, huh?»

there's a new class plan, and you're not next to Isagi anymore! you're now next to another boy who used to be your crush.

you smile to your boyfriend as you hug him before you go to your new assigned seat. you were gonna miss being with him at every class, laughing, playing, talking and helping each other.. they were precious moments and yet so simple. but it's okay, fortunately, isagi's new seat was just behind yours and it means that you'll still be able to continue talking with him, even if it will be more difficult not to be catched by the teacher.

when you see who's beside you, you recognize someone who used to be your crush of almost two years ago. you've been talking a little but not that much, comparing to back then when you used to be close. the main reason you fell in love with him was for his sense of humour. he would always make you laugh. however, when you confessed to him, he admitted that he didn't see you this way.

even if it did hurt you back then, it doesn't matter now that you have yoichi <3

however, isagi also knew who he was to you. he also knew that you had a crush on him whereas isagi had one on you. the least we could say, is that it was so painful for him to watch you love someone else, to laugh so hard with someone else, and not him, when he was right beside you. at the time you were only friends, so when your ex crush rejected you, isagi, being your closest friend, had to comfort you. Even though it pained him, he was still your friend and he would always be there for you, even not as your lover, which was the case.

but when your heart finally woke up to look properly at the person who was always by your side, it began to see isagi on a different light. and so, you just fell in love with him, making him the happiest boy in the world.

even knowing that you now have only eyes for him, the footballer player still felt unsecure. he thinks you might end up liking him again. on top of that, he sees your ex crush as someone way more good looking and funnier than him. it would only be natural for you to prefer him to isagi.

so when the class starts and the teacher starts as well her job, she's quick to give you some work to do within the hour after she explained the lesson of the day. it will be no longer after that your new classmate asks for your help. all of this under the icy stare of your boyfriend. he quickly notices how he would put his arm behind your chair, as if he was marking his territory, when in reality it is not his at all. except, he doesn't know that.

isagi grits his teeth as he sees you being completely blind to it, and helping him innocently. even if he finds you cute, the anger he feels at the moment is stronger. and what he sees in front of him makes him clench his fists. the boy that now isagi hates, was showing you something to help him up with on the page on the opposite side of you, only for you to get closer to him in order to see better.

and to isagi who has no choice but to assist to it, it does nothing good but increase his anger which he restrains.

he's quick to write something on a piece of paper that said "stop talking to him", before it lands on your table. you throw a quick glance behind you and lock eyes with isagi's, smiling lovingly at him before you read what he has written.

however, his heart might just break when you ignore him to report your attention on the stupid boy next to you. "i've been wanting to tell you something." this picked your curiosity as you asked what it was. "i think that i might just like you too" he smiled as if you were still into him, when you are just not anymore since isagi bewitched you.

and when this one hears this, "i know it might be sudden but back then I just wasn't aware of what a beauty you were, so.. that's it. today i return your feelings.. baby", he might just snap.

but then he remembers that you ignored him to listen to this bastard, as the dark blue haired boy is currently calling him in his mind, and he fears that you might just accept his feelings.

"i don't wanna be rude but, wake up" you start, "i don't like you anymore, this was almost two years ago now. for you to think that it's still the case is cocky." while his smile faded, isagi never felt this relieved. and it gets even better as you continue, "since then i moved on, and now i have a wonderful boyfriend that i love very much" you wink at the person you're referring to, as isagi's heart swells, before you return your attention to the other boy who didn't seem to notice it, "i'm sorry, but i'm taken".

"and may i know who's the lucky guy?", it's strange, but his smile that disappeared earlier just made his comeback at the mention of a boyfriend. just when you were about to answer, the teacher that was passing by your table notices your blank sheet. "young girl! why is your sheet still empty since the beginning of the class! i bet you were chatting and doing nothing." you wanted to justify yourself saying that was because you were helping your classmate -and some other stuff that won't be metioned- when the bell rang. "oh! well, since you did nothing you'll have two more exercises to do and I want them fresh for tomorrow." and just like that, she left to pack her belongings like everyone else in the classroom.

you sighed, you did feel upset but this was your favorite subject so even some extra exercises to do weren't gonna make you mad. but it did make isagi mad as he knew it was all this guy's fault. "so who is your boyfr-" he continued as he was not feeling a tiny bit guilty, when your dear boyfriend comes to you putting his arms over your collarbones and resting his head on yours as you're still sat. "i am his boyfriend, want an autograph? you've been asking for me several times, what d'you want?" his tone was cold, and he had all rights to do so.

"oh, so it's you, isagi." his gaze was at fist cold as well until a cocky smile drawn his way to his lips, "it must have hurt so bad seeing the girl you like loving someone else, huh?" so now, now you're gonna be mad. furious, even. as isagi was biting his lip and was about to speak, you put your hands on isagi's arms (which don't let go of you) and stand up to speak. "sorry but i won't let that one slide so easily." you start, "now that i see what you're really like, i don't even understand how i managed to like you. how can you attack someone on his feelings? this is just very lame and ridiculous. you're pathetic. don't ever think of repeating it again asshole, especially to my boyfriend." as the jerk stays silent and walks away mumbling something you didn't catch, isagi is left agape by what you just said. even if he liked it, he didn't know you could be mean, in a way. however, isagi stops him as you frown, wondering why.

"hey! you didn't even apologize to my girl." the trash scoffed at the nickname, "apologize? and for what?" isagi frowns, "do I really have to tell you? because of you keeping her busy with your shit she couldn't work and now she has even more work to do." in response, he just shrugs. "as if i care" the trash cackled as it walked away, which made your boyfriend even more mad. his grip on your shoulders was tightening, making you wince a little.

turning around to face him, he's met by your sweet smile. "it's okay yoichi, i don't mind" once again, he didn't seem to agree with you. "but he-" you cut him off saying that is really okay and that it was useless anyway. "what about we just go outside for the break, hm?"

sat on a bench with isagi by your side, hand in his with fingers locked together and head on his broad shoulder, he confesses something to you. "you know.. i was afraid you might leave me for him, earlier." his gaze was directed to the ground as you take off your head from against him, eyes open wide with surprise as they look straight into his. "i mean, look at him and look at me. plus, you were in love with him so..." putting your hands on each one of his cheeks you force him to look at you. "pardon me sir? i think i misheard what you just said??" yet he stayed silent, looking in your eyes with quite a sad expression. and if there's one thing you hate the most beside people eating cereals with water instead of milk (i swear it exists), it's seeing the person you love sad.

"first, you can't compare him to you. i mean, you're just so much better. second, i wouldn't have just forgot my feelings for you in a second and go with him. and third, don't remind me of back then, I'm just ashamed now. how could I not see you?" you stare at the ground, thinking about this. after all, that's true. you never really wondered how you did to not notice him and his love for you even when you realized that you shared his feelings. instead of him, you loved that jerk.

suddenly, you feel his fingers on your chin, lifting it up to lock lips with yours. the kiss is slow, so soft and filled with love that you can't help but melt into it. he stops only to carry on from another angle, putting his hand on the back of your neck. there's nothing to say, his kisses really are the best. however, this had to come to an end. "i love you." Even if he didn't say it aloud it still would be the same, because his deep blue eyes were screaming it. "it's fine, the past doesn't matter now that you're finally mine".

every day your love for him grows, and now it might just explode.

[testingthewatersss]

I never lost him Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. Just unapologetic cuddling and comfort ft. Steve Rodgers. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 3 2980 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Post TWS Steve realises that he's not the only one looking for Sargent Barnes. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.

The next day, Y/N palms Steve an envelope in the common room, and he finds a folder full of everything SHEILD had uncovered about The Winter Solider.

He reads that first.

It takes him 3 hours.

By the time he reaches the final page, he’s shaking.

The letter Bucky has written him seems almost like it’s taunting him, from it’s position on his coffee table.

Every time he blinks he sees the images from the report. Crudely stapled polaroids of his best friend being tortured, decades ago, somewhere he couldn’t reach him seem to be swimming behind his eyes.

He wants to burn the whole mess of papers.

He wants to drink until he can’t remember what HYDRA is.

He settles for slamming his hand on his counter so hard that the marble cracks.

“Shit” he mutters to himself, realising, when he does look back at the letter he’s yet to read, that his eyes are full of tears.

His fingers have just closed around the delicate envelope when there’s a gentle wrapping on his door.

“It’s Y/N” a voice calls from behind the wood, “Are you alright?”

Steve sniffs, stealing himself before going to let her in.

Before he can open his mouth to lie about his wellbeing, she’s shaking her head at him.

“Is it that bad?” she asks, “I told him I’d kick his ass if he made you cry with that letter-“

“I haven’t read his letter”

Her head tilts, the jovial smile she’d been wearing a moment before dissipates like smoke. He sees her scanning the room. She sees the file, open and abandoned next to a large crack that’s new on the surface it’s resting on.

“Steve”

He steps aside and lets her in, closing the door as he turns to face her.

“I… uh- I’m gonna get to it now-”

Y/N can’t help but think it looks like he’s expecting a scolding, she softens her expression deliberately as she shakes her head.

“I wouldn’t have started with that” she says, nodding at the file, “…can I?…”

It takes a second for Steve to realise what she’s asking. When it clicks for him, he nods, and watches as she flicks through the papers, straightening the images and tucking everything back into the outer sleeve it had come in.

“Is that everything?” he hears himself ask, bile still flooding his mouth

“Everything?” she repeats, thoughtfully, “…No, Steve, he was there for the better part of a century, I don’t think any agents could have wrapped it up in under 50 pages, even if they had been given all of the information”

His jaw locks. His angry, he realises, even though he’s not certain of why.

“What more could they have done?!” he spits, “some of the things in there-”

“Would you like me to compile a list for you?”

The calmness of her voice only fuels his sudden rage.

He barks out a fake laugh and storms towards her, ripping the neatly organised documents out from under hand hand before tossing it to the ground.

Papers flutter down elegantly. A few of the unsecured images land face up by their feet.

Y/N finds herself starring at the man she loves, strapped to an operating table, with a gag wedged between his teeth.

She hides her upset, bending down silently, to gather everything back up.

Her lack of reaction makes guilt stir heavily in Steve’s chest. His heart is pounding in his ears.

“Did you read anything that would make you object to him moving in?”

Her question filters through his clouded consciousness and hits him in his chest.

She’s on her feet again, she slips the re-bundled folder into her bag, before placing that on a stool by her right.

“No” Steve answers briskly “Of course it didn’t.”

Y/N considers him strangely for a minute, before nodding.

Embarrassment prickles at his cheeks. He feels them burning red, and can’t help but divert his gaze when he realties how temperamental he must seem.

“I’m sorry” he sighs finally, rubbing his jaw, “It just- I- I wish I could’ve done something”

“He deserved better” she agrees softly, “You both did”

That hits him strangely. He’s not used to hearing that of compassion from anyone, it’s seems incredibly out of place, especially considering the tantrum he’s almost thrown.

A horrible thought occurs to him then, as he looks at the face of the woman offering him that kindness;

She was there, too- She lived through it, for five years, and she wasn’t brainwashed, so she must remember it all, and here I am, getting upset by a third party write up.

“Oh, god” he mutters, seeing her anew, “Oh, god, Y/N I’m- I’m sorry”

She looks amused as she shakes her head, dismissing his apology.

“It- It must’ve been- I can’t even imagine what it was like, if that was a tame version-”

“You’re right” Y/N says, “You can’t imagine”

He nods, looking down at his feet, ashamed.

“So stop trying, Steve” she continues, “Bucky’s alright, he’s not there anymore, and living in the past, dwelling on what you wish you could’ve done differently doesn’t help anyone”

Blue eyes blink at her considerately, and she thinks he looks an awful lot like his friend.

“Are you alright, Y/N?”

That question is unexpected, that much is clear from her face.

“I’m fine” she answers softly, “don’t worry about me.”

That last part sounds an awful lot like a command. He nods in bashful agreement before looking back towards the envelope he’d been about to open.

“Don’t forget” Y/N teases, suddenly pushing up to walk back towards the door, taking her bag and the concealed document with her, “if it makes you cry”

“I’ll never admit it” he murmurs, trying to match her playful tone, “will you give him my reply?”

She scoffs, looking over her shoulder.

“If all goes to plan, you can give him your reply yourself.”

Steve does more than just cry when he reads the letter. He sobs like a baby, tears making the swirling hand written script bleed out into patches of faded blue ink as they land on the paper he can’t seem to put down.

It’s an apology, more than anything else, it’s his oldest friend explaining that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be the man he was before he fell, and pleading for forgiveness for the heinous crimes he was forced to commit.

He thanks Steve too, for being who he is, and he ends it by saying that even though they both thought it was, it’s not the end of the line.

When he finally ventures out into the common room the next day, red eyed and tired, he almost misses the way Y/N is on her cell-phone, chattering happily into the handset.

Almost.

“I know, sweetheart” she says, unbothered by the lack of privacy, “He’s fine- I promise”

Her eyes skirt over Steve, she smirks a little.

“I told you the last line was over kill- he definitely cried.”

As soon as he hears that he’s certain about who’s on the other end of the call.

His pulse spikes, he looks frantically at Tony, who’s sitting on the couch a few feet away, and then at Natasha, and Clint, who look equally as unaware.

“We can get dinner if you like? I’ll spend the night.”

She laughs, nudging the refrigerator shut with her hip as she takes a care free swig of the juice she’s just pulled out from inside it.

“Sounds good, sarge- it’s a date.”

How the others haven’t tuned in on her conversation is beyond him, especially when it’s so obvious to him who she’s speaking too.

Although, he supposes that might be because he already knows. He finds himself wondering how many times he missed it himself, back when he’d been just as in the dark.

Y/N hangs up, and offers him an innocent smile.

He gawks at her, waiting for some kind of confirmation.

“What?” she asks, “do I have something on my face?”

Steve shakes his head, unsure of what he’d actually been hoping for.

“Tony” Y/N calls suddenly, breaking eye contact with the man who’s been watching her phone-call with such interest “Can I borrow you for a sec?”

“Y’know what kid? I’ll give you a whole minute”

Her eyes roll as her brother comes up on Steve’s right.

“First of all” she begins, sliding him the carton she’s been drinking from, “don’t call me kid-”

The man makes a disinterested sound, unscrewing the cap.

“second of all- I need a room makin’ up”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, gulping “for who?”

Natasha is standing now. She looks at Steve, confused and intrigued.

“Bucky.”

The atmosphere in the room is suddenly electric.

“What did you just say?” Tony asks, voice thick.

Steve is wide-eyed. Natasha looks like she’s been slapped.

Y/N, however looks completely unfazed. She even cracks a smile.

“Don’t play dumb, T- You know who that is.”

“Oh I know who that is” he agrees, “I was just hopin’ I’d misheard ya’”

Steve looks like he wants to say something, but he can’t find the words.

Everyone else is just as speechless, watching the interaction unfold.

“You’re not that old yet-” Y/N says, “-your hearings’ just fine.”

“Not that old?”

She barks out a laugh, and all the onlookers find themselves even more out of touch with the tone of the interaction.

The dynamic is so strange to see, that they can’t predict what either one of the siblings will say, or do next.

Given Tony’s previously violent reaction to the topic at hand, everyones teeth are every understandably, on edge.

“I think there are a couple of rooms free on Cap’s floor- or, there’s one down the hall from me-” Y/N says next, “Not that I expect it’ll be gettin’ too much use, but it looks better on paper doesn’t it? If he has his own?”

Natasha can’t help but gawp at that. And Steve lets out a disbelieving gasp.

“Y/N-” the blonde man murmurs, urgently trying to make her rethink her entitled approach, “you can’t just-”

“I can” she counters bluntly, “It says Stark on the lease, and last I checked-”

“You” Tony agrees, looking at her strangely, “are definitely a Stark.”

There’s a beat of silence where everyone adjusts to the reality of what’s been said so far.

Natasha is mumbling explanations to Clint, and Steve is still too shocked to move an inch.

“I hope he’s at least cookin’ for you tonight-” The billionaire says suddenly, “The amount of take outs you’ve been gettin’ on your company card is gettin’ out of hand’, he should be treating you for once-”

Steve’s head jerks over, Natasha lets of a choked gasp of disbelief, he stares at pair, and almost screams when Y/N only rolls her eyes again.

“He doesn’t have a bank account, Tony. How exactly is he supposed to treat me?”

“I’ll settle for him not murderin’ you” he replies dryly, “given his track record with our family-”

“That wasn’t him” Steve says, unable to bite his tongue anymore, “Tony, I swear-”

“Do you really think I’d be havin’ this conversation if I didn’t, on some level believe you?”

There’s an undeniable sharpness in the other man’s voice. It’s the kind of tone that brokers no argument, it silences him instantly, leaving his head reeling with the implications of Tony knowing, about Bucky, about Y/N, about all of it-

“I’m pretty sure I can still take him in a fight” Y/N says, ignoring both of the men’s out bursts, “although I’ll be sure to avoid followin’ him into any tunnels, if it puts your mind at ease”

Tony snorts. Rubbing at his goatie.

“does he have any preference for the decor?”

Steve’s eyes widen, and then he finds himself blinking wildly at Natasha, who looks just as stunned by the speed of the man’s acceptance.

“Not really” Y/N answers pleasantly, “Like I said, it’s for paperwork, more than anythin’ else, we’re used to sharin’- although it sounds like you've' figured that out?”

Tony laughs, pulling out his cell phone.

“What?” he says, “That my little sister’s been shackin’ up with a former Russian assassin right under my nose?”

“He’s from Brooklyn, Tony- Not Russia.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” Natasha speaks at last, “Have I had a stroke? Have you been working on some weird, dangerous chemical gas down in the lab, something that alters people’s states of-”

“Not recently” Y/N answers, “but now you mention it, a gas does seem like a more elegant solution-”

“Y/N” she insists, tone firm, “What the hell is going on?”

Steve catches the woman’s eye, and for a moment he’s tempted to break the promise he’d made, and explain things on her behalf, but he bites his tongue, and Tony jumps in to fill the gap-

“She’s been coupled up with his old war buddy since they got thrown in a cell together in Siberia”

He nods at Rodgers,

“and despite her best efforts at keepin’ it quiet, she’s not nearly as slick as she thinks she is.”

“I’m plenty slick” Y/N counters, making apologetic eyes at Natasha, “Nobody else caught on, it’s not my fault that you’re-”

“incredibly perceptive?”

“My brother.”

“Oh don’t say it like that” Tony objects, false pleading in his tone, “you’re breakin’ my heart”

“I’m not sayin’ it like anything” Y/N says, “I’m just sayin’ that that, is the only reason you pieced it all together.”

He shrugs, not denying her statement.

“So when exactly where you thrown into this cell?”

Natasha’s question breaks the emotion in the room, Y/N is clearly uncomfortable for a moment, but then she forces a smile and looks at the woman she holds so dear,

“That’s classified” Tony says, bristling protectively.

“T…”

He huffs a little, and pushes back from the counter,

“It was awhile ago, Nat, it’s… it’s a little hard to explain” Y/N makes eye contact with the redhead, and feels relief and gratitude swell in her chest when she smiles back at her, nodding in acceptance.

“Vy budete, odin den’?”

You will, one day?

“YA budu.”

I will.

The promise is genuine, and it means the world to Natasha.

“Does he have a favourite colour at least?” Tony asks, attention on the cell phone he’s holding

Steve can barely believe his ears. Clint chuckles dryly.

“Blue, I think?” Y/N answers, looking at Rodgers’ for confirmation,

He blinks, before swallowing, and forcing a nod.

“It was” he confirms, not wanting to say anything that might set Tony off.

Tony pulls an exasperated face. Tapping something into his device.

“I’ll put him in room 8- Next to Steve”

“Fine” Y/N agrees, like she’s only half listening, “I’ll pitch it to him over dinner”

The billionaire makes a disinterested noise, and puts his phone away.

“You’re joking?” Clint says, speaking loudly for the first time, “Seriously?”

His eyes are jumping between Steve and the Starks,

“Last time this guy was mentioned you all spent months attackin each other - you nearly killed-”

“I wasn’t here last time.” Y/N says quickly, “Too much testosterone complicates everything”

He laughs then, and Steve dares to let himself believe that this might be real. That there might be a real possibility of this working out.

“So does him murdering our-”

“Stop” Y/N cuts in, silencing her brother instantly, “Unless you want us to have a very public conversation about hypocrisy?”

“I do not” Tony concedes, “His bank account is up and runnin’” he tells her, “he can sign for the card whenever he decides to show up.”

“Thank you” she replies, with an edge of finality, “Want to grab somethin’ for us to eat before we go meet Banner?”

“Sounds good”

With that, he turns and leaves the room in silence.

“Fuckin’ crazy” Clint mutters, “Both of them- fuckin’ crazy”

He nudges Natasha and slumps back down on the couch.

Steve is stood, overwhelmed and unsure of what to do next. He’s half convinced that he’s imagined the entire interaction. He wonders absentmindedly if he’s dreaming, if he past out in his room, with Bucky’s tear stained letter in his hands.

Y/N’s palm on his shoulder almost makes him jump six feet into the air.

“Woah” she teases, “You doin alright?”

He forces a smile, and makes himself shift on his feet.

“Sure I am” he says, “just…surprised that went so smoothly”

She shrugs, clearly not sharing in his disbelief.

“You’re not?”

“Not particularly.”

He laughs, a short, curt scoff. Natasha looks up at the sound, before returning to her conversation with Clint.

“So what’s the plan, now?” he asks, adrenaline that had filled him earlier starting to ease, “Is there anything we need to do?”

“No” she replies, “Not really- I mean, I have to get this gammer exposure report finalised before three, and Fury wanted me to sign some documents about yesterday-”

“That you are not going to sign” Nat cuts in somewhat unhelpfully,

“That I am not going to sign” Y/N agrees, “But, I should at least tell him that- and then… I’ll probably go for a run, grab a shower—”

“He’s only interested in the parts involving Barnes” Romanoff interrupts again, shooting a half accusatory glance at Steve, “he doesn’t actually care about your plans”

“I-” he goes to object, “-that’s-”

“I’m meeting him at 5” she says, “he promised he’d have dinner ready, but to be honest, I’m not holdin’ out much hope”

“-and how are you planning on getting him here?” the other woman asks,

“I’m going to ask him to come”

“And if he says no?” Steve counters, worry slipping into his tone.

“Then I’ll persuade him”

There’s a hint of teasing in her voice, but her smile is coy and knowing.

When he meets her eyes, he finds that he has no doubt of her ability to convince anyone into anything.

1 | 2 | x | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

[half-oz-eddie]

The Widowmaker (Part II)

Serial Killer! Billy Hargrove [Part I] Warning for Graphic depictions of violence!

When Billy’s car was fixed, he hightailed it out of Hawkins almost immediately. He stopped by Steve’s house to thank him for his hospitality, and Steve let him know that the spare bedroom was always open to him if he was traveling for work. 

Billy thought about Steve for the entirety of his drive into Pennsylvania. At a pitstop, he shuffled through his IDs, and decided he’d be Jonah from Montana. 

It was nice to unwind in that quiet little town, but now it was time for him to get back to his true self. He could never escape his bloodlust, and the thrill of ending and destroying lives.

When he arrived in Philadelphia, he found his mark almost immediately.

A man was publicly arguing with his wife, and the little boy was screaming “you’re not my mom!” At the wife. Oh, how painfully reminiscent it was. 

He followed them to their home, staking out the family for 2 days and keeping track of their schedule. 

He watched as the father left for work in his Camry, then turned his head when his phone dinged.

Steve: Heya! Just checking in since it’s been a few days since you left town. Did you make it to your destination safely?

Billy: Yeah. I’ll be working in Tennessee for another day or so.

Billy almost felt…guilty for lying to Steve. Steve was the only person in years that he could be Billy with. He wanted Billy to be good, to be nice. But Billy had many other identities, so Billy had to be a liar, and no matter how many identities he hid behind, Billy would always be The Widowmaker.

But the idea was for Steve to never be able to connect Billy to Jonah, or Mark, or Andrew. Billy had to remain Billy.

Steve: Thinking of passing through Hawkins again after that?

Steve: If it’s on your way to your next stop, I mean. It’s gonna rain this weekend. I’d hate for you to have another accident.

Billy: I’ll take you up on that offer. 

Steve: Great! I don’t have my son this weekend, so maybe we can catch a movie or something

Steve: Or we can go to dinner with some of my friends. The ones you met before you left.

Billy was feeling very detached from Billy whenever he was stalking his mark. The Widowmaker wasn’t very interested in this, but the Billy he always tried to shove away wanted to go to dinner, and the movies, and have a companion that was as kind and smelled as good as Steve.

Billy: It all sounds like fun. I haven’t settled in and spent time with other people in so long.

Steve: I’ll make reservations and get the tickets. Can’t wait!

Billy: same here.

Steve: I’ll let you get back to work. I’ve gotta run. Give me a ring if you get lonely!

Billy: Will do.

From stalking this house, he learned that the husband would always sneak downstairs around midnight and talk to someone on his phone. Perhaps a mistress? 

That was Billy’s chance. He would sneak into this unsecured home and wait in the living room to take out his next victim. 

Chloroform was too hard to get your hands on. Gasoline was much easier to use. While the father was distracted, he’d come up from behind and place a gasoline soaked cloth over his face, quickly bringing him to his knees. 

From there, Billy would pull his loosened belt off his pants, whisper “I’ll teach you about respect.” Into the helpless man’s ear and wrap the belt around his neck.

He would pull it as hard as he could, the buckle pressing against the man’s Adam's Apple.

He begged, just like Billy used to beg.

He cried, just like Billy used to cry.

He tried to scream, just like Billy silently screamed.

And no one came to save him, just like no one saved Billy.

Billy watched as his hands weakly scraped the floor, and he stood over him, pulling the belt with as much force as he could, until he heard his neck snap.

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the moonlight. The accent mirror capturing his crime. He saw death in his dull, blue eyes, surrounded by that dark ski mask.

He turned the man over, quickly and sloppily carved that dreadful insult he hated so much into the lifeless man’s forehead, and left as quickly as he came. 

Billy felt like a God, turning people into angels or demons, wherever they would go when he took their lives away. He wasn’t much of a believer either way. 

He wondered if these men were haunting him. He chuckled at the passing thought. Ghosts didn’t scare him.

He parked his car in a lot, far from his recent killing, his radio turned on as he waited to hear the news of his latest work.

It was exciting, like waiting to hear the lottery numbers, but already knowing in your heart that you’ve won. 

Every kill gives him a thrill, and every thrill gives him back his power, yet there is still a void inside him that none of his murders can seem to fill.

Maybe now was a good time to call Steve.

It wasn’t loneliness that he felt, (at least that’s what he told himself) he refused to believe the void in him was any sort of emptiness. Billy wanted to believe that the murders were necessary for him to heal, and when he felt like he’d done enough, he would stop, but it hadn’t felt like enough just yet.

He was making progress, though, he thought.

Steve picked up on the second ring. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Sorry for calling so early. I…wanted to say good morning before you head to work.”

“No need to apologize. I’m glad you called.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s been a little lonely these days. You mind if we talk while I get ready? Or are you gonna have to go soon?”

“I finished up my gig late last night, so I’m free as a bird, right now.”

“That’s great! You still coming back to town? I-I’m sorry for being such a pest it’s just uh…you’re good company.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“You too. I’ll be heading that way real soon. I can’t wait to get out of here anyway.”