#It probably should be a bit more directed though

[strawberriesandroses52]

miscalibrated

2/?

potential ooc, I have no idea how to write Prowl ;-;

~~

The unknown mech at Prowl’s feet was the icing on the oil cake of a very long, very bad day. 

The Quintessons had just overrun the front on Vos, taking the airports where a majority of Seeker air support came from that morning. His subordinates stationed there hadn’t followed his plan, and gotten six teammates killed, and two injured, which could have been avoided. Optimus had then decided to reassign him after Prowl had yelled at his remaining subordinates. So, instead of the front on Vos, he was going to be on the front on Kaon. 

Prowl didn’t need another reassignment, he needed people to take his plans seriously and follow them. Optimus had delivered it diplomatically, of course, but Prowl was a trusted advisor. You would think the Prime would want him by his side, but noooo. It’s Prowl that’s the problem. 

Oh, and to finally top it all off. After inspecting it the best he could, he discovered that the navigation on his shuttle was miscalibrated, causing it to crash on an unknown, unnamed planet. There was literally nothing around him in any direction that he could see. Just an endless ocean of sand and rocks. Oh, and of course the crashed shuttle. Can’t forget the crashed shuttle.

Unicron had it out for him.

Prowl had dug the emergency box out from the wreckage already, had set up the radio distress signal, and then sat and waited. 

How long did distress signals take to pick up? How long until someone discovers that Prowl hadn’t ever actually made it to Kaon? How long until the calculations running in the back of his head drove him fully mad? 

The ever-present string of numbers and statistics and probabilities liked to try and take over his thoughts. It liked the spotlight and it liked the data-crunching. Prowl was determined to not let it rule–a challenge Optimus had given him. Be his own person, outside of the algorithms. Of course Prowl had taken the challenge, he likes winning, he likes proving himself right. 

But it had just made him realize how startlingly bad he is at acting like a person. 

Without calculating the best routes of a conversation, he flubbed on what to say constantly. Every social instinct seemed to abandon him mid-thought and he’d end up shoving his own pede down his mouth. Since then, he’s been avoided in the breakrooms. Optimus had seemed a little upset about the results of his get-Prowl-to-act-normal experiment, but Prowl? 

Prowl wasn’t surprised at all. He was what you would call, an acquired taste. To tolerate his presence, you needed to go through some kind of exposure therapy. Or helm trauma. Which was…fine. Other people are idiots and he can’t stand them anyways. 

Would they even notice I hadn’t made it yet though? Would they care? 

The calculations said they wouldn’t.

Prowl buries his face into his servos, trying to ignore the steady stream of stats that supports the fact that everyone at base hates him.

A vrrbom sound interrupts his brooding. Prowl removes his helm from his servos, looking around for the source of the noise. It’s coming from behind him, from one of the shuttle’s half busted sensors. It was supposed to be some anti-Quintesson early warning system that detected some chemical most commonly found in the techno-organic flesh that the Quintessons were made out of. It only worked a bit more than 30% of the time, but some warning was better than no warning. 

Prowl stands to his pedes uneasily, taking care to inspect his surroundings. Given that there was still nothing around him but sand and rocks, it was unlikely the Quints were going to ambush him. The scanner had probably been damaged in the crash. 

The alert sounds again, highlighting the location on a scanner map that was fizzing in and out of existence. He wants to ignore it. He should ignore it. It’s most likely broken and there’s no point in investigating if he’s waiting for help. Prowl’s smart enough to know that you’re not supposed to leave the area when waiting for a rescue. 

But what happens when the rescue isn’t coming. A vicious thought whispers. Prowl shudders. 

The scanner beeps at him again, calling, tempting. 

One side effect of having the most calculating, efficient computers living in the back corners of your brain is the all-consuming desire to know things. To gather more data. It’s an ever present ache at the back of his mind. Prowl likes knowing things. 

The curiosity sits there, innocent and waiting. 

The scanner beeps once more. 

With a sigh, he stands, looking at the scanner more closely. The unidentified Quintesson object isn’t too far from where he is, just about two clicks away. Prowl, in his alt-mode, can get there in a very short time. 

He downloads the map from the scanner, uploading it into his files for reference.

Prowl transforms into his alt-mode, back from his days as an Enforcer. Could he have changed it since then? Yes, yes he could have. But that would mean having to learn the stats and limits of a new alt mode whilst in the middle of fighting a war. As nice as it would be to have something less…intimidating, that just isn’t going to happen. 

The sand kicks up under him, creating a great billowing trail behind him. If Prowl hadn’t crash landed here, it would’ve been a nice place to just let loose. Maybe race, or drift or do those stupid contests that Hot Rod and Bumblebee loved to start. 

One click passes, then two. 

The Quintesson object reflects a lot of light, shining in the midday sun of the desert. 

When he first gets a good look at it, it disgusts him. It looks Cybertronian, or rather it looks like some poor imitation of a Cybertronian. It has two legs, two arms, a face covered entirely by a blue visor, and some kibble, but that’s where the similarities end. Its legs are bent at odd places, its arms are a touch too long, the fingers too curved and sharp, the joints too round. 

If the Quintessons were trying to create a Cybertronian mimic to infiltrate them, it was a poor attempt. Prowl stared at the creature, trying to make sense of its odd body. It had no visible transformation seams either, nothing to indicate that it had a second form at all.

It made Prowl shudder. 

But if it was really Quintesson made, then it would be best for the Autobots to take it fro study. Anything they knew about the Quintessons could aid them in the war. 

Experimentally, Prowl prodded at its body with his pede. It gave no discernible reaction. 

Hm. He didn’t have any towing cables with him at the moment. So he would have to drag the creature all the way back to the crash site. For two clicks. 

As Wheeljack would say, for science! 

So, ‘for science’, he drags the creature back to the crash site two clicks away. Despite being slightly shorter (seemingly) than Prowl, it is considerably denser. Absently, he wonders if the R&D department would allow him to attend the initial dissection of the creature, or at least read the reports. While Prowl wasn’t necessarily friends with the R&D department, they appreciated his commitment to data and general curiosity. 

Perhaps if functionalism hadn’t deemed him an enforcer, he could’ve been a scientist instead. 

Prowl sags with relief when the crash site comes into view and he can finally stop dragging this heavy creature. He was thankful the crash site wasn’t a messy one, and had yet to spontaneously combust. 

He lets the legs of the creature drop, and goes to the now completely open side of the ship. From there, he locates his energon rations and the field scanner. It was a handy little thing, and he was glad it was apart of the standard kit. 

Prowl turned his scanner on, letting it pass over the strange mech once, then twice, to get a visual feel of how it worked. The scan revealed an extremely complex inner system, comparable to a Cybertronian’s. It was eerie, how similar the scanner revealed them to be. 

The scanner chimed, indicating the concentration of the Quintesson energy was coming from the mech-creature’s right arm, along its wrist. When Prowl knelt down to inspect it, it coughed out a plume of smoke, little flickers of energy running through it. 

He shouldn’t touch it. Prowl takes a look at his scanner again, and then down at the strange mech’s cuff. Could it be that they were a Quintesson prisoner? If they were, how did they escape? There was no other ship nearby that Prowl could see, no visible damage on the mech’s frame, nothing to indicate a struggle. But it was equally unlikely that the Quintessons would just leave a prisoner behind. It was also equally unlikely that the Quintessons would just leave something that they had created behind.  

Unless they were dead. 

Prowl eyed the potential corpse, looking for something that would constitute a sign of life. It lays still. He takes a look down at his scanner. Would it be able to tell him anything more in depth about this odd not-cybertronian mech if he could connect to its internal systems? 

Only one way to find out… Prowl hesitantly flicked on the device again. It passed over the mech with a blue holographic grid, once, then twice more. 

ESTABLISH CONNECTION? Appeared on its tiny screen. 

Connection? Connection to what, the mech? Prowl shifted from pede to pede, wary of whatever cyber-virus thing could possibly transmit. His digit hovered over the dismissal button. 

Instead, he hit accept. 

The internal cable popped out of the side, from where Prowl could stretch it and plug it into the unknown mech’s wrist connection. The scan had pointed out a potentially compatible port. 

Strangely enough, the connection works. The code on the screen runs normally at first, the number flicking by as it searches for an avenue. 

ERROR ALERT! The scanner notifies. 

The connection between the mech’s wrist and Prowl’s scanner is starting to smoke and spew jolts of electricity. The device is hot in his servos, and Prowl drops it a half a second before it explodes. 

Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea. 

The mech creature jolts, all limbs flailing and coming to life. There’s a muffled, internal noise that almost sounds like a tiny shriek.

Then it dies. 

Or, well, lay still for a moment. 

Prowl stared at it, then, stupidly, leaned down to try and get a better look. He didn’t even see so much as a twitch before one of its long arms reached and slashed across his face.

Immediately, Prowl slapped a servo over the cut as the wave of pain that follow hit him. The battle computer told him that it was a shallow cut that his internal nanites could take care of in a few joors. 

The mech hadn’t wasted any time in escaping, and by the time Prowl had recovered from the surprise, it was already booking its way across the sand. 

He couldn’t let a potential Quintesson escape!

Prowl sprinted after the mech, though he almost tripped over several rocks. He was enthralled by the creature’s odd running gait, how it seemed to barely touch the ground before leaping ahead. It was faster on foot than some cybertronians were on wheels. 

Prowl was lagging behind, until it decided to skid to a stop and pivot, facing him with a blank blue visor. 

He tensed, expecting it to leap out at him, knife first. 

But that didn’t happen. It stared at him for a long moment 

“Hello.” He says awkwardly. “I uh, didn’t mean to startle you. Or hurt you.” 

Well. He had. A little bit. Not personally, though. Prowl had just intended to ship it off for dissection. The creature doesn’t need to know that though.

On either side of its head, there were long, thick antennae like appendages. Apparently, they also could move. The antennae snap up straight, before lowering again. Was it trying to communicate with him? Prowl didn’t speak ‘antennae’ and didn’t have any protocol to reference for ‘what to do when someone tries to communicate in a language you don’t speak’.

It slowly stands up from its crouched position until its nearly eye level with Prowl. He takes a moment to study its face. Or lack thereof. There’s no intake, no optics, just a blank, blue visor that glows subtly. That must be the purpose of its antennae then, for emotive displays, given the lack of a face. 

It tilts its head to the side, studying him, before taking two bold steps forward. 

Prowl hadn’t realized that he’d relaxed until now, his whole body tensing. 

It tilted his head at him again, antennae wavering slightly. 

“ꫝꪖ꠸?” 

Wait what. 

“Hai?” Prowl repeats with a frown. 

“ᛕꪮꪀ꠸ᥴꫝ꠸᭙ꪖ?” It tries again, antenna flopping down in what seemed to be disappointment. 

He’s not even going to bother to try and pronounce that.

“I have no idea what you’re saying.” Prowl replies.  

“᭙ꫀꪶꪶ ꪻꫝ꠸ᦓ ꠸ᦓ ꠹ꪊᦓꪻ ᧁ᥅ꫀꪖꪻ. ᦓꪻ᥅ꪖꪀᦔꫀ��� ᭙꠸ꪻꫝ ꪖꪀ ꪖꪶ꠸ꫀꪀ ᭙ꫝꪮ ᦔꪮꫀᦓꪀ'ꪻ ꪊꪀᦔꫀ᥅ᦓꪻꪖꪀᦔ ꪑꫀ.” The mech says. 

Prowl sighs. 

This would be a long wait for rescue.  

[jules-ln]

I just wanted to say I completely agree with the conversation you had about Jayce and violence. People have this urge to make him a babygirl, wouldn’t hurt a fly, JUST because in the show he’s shit at fighting.

(IMO, being bad at fighting but choosing to anyway makes you more violent. Vi deciding to defend someone comes from her knowing what it means to get hurt and doing so consciously. Jayce made a Big Fucking Hammer and decided the right answer was to break people’s bones. That is absolutely a desire for violence.)

People who have only seen arcane have this urge to make him helpless and it drives me up the wall. Making him harmless removes so much nuance from the character, both in the game as he’s a scientist who only knows how to communicate through what people expect of him, and the game, where he’s twisted and bent to the will of others through politics. The hammer is a representation of his fall and why it physically disables him.

It is infuriating, and nice to see someone stand up to it. Thank you.

Aw thank you, I don't care about social rules and I'm a very opinionated person, therefore I won't shut up when I have an unpopular opinion even if I know it's controversial lmao

Tbh I think Jayce it's like a personification of "it is tempting, if the only tool you have is a hammer, to treat everything as if it were a nail"

A bit on the nose I know, but then again, Arcane isn't exactly subtle with its subtext lmao

He actually reminds me a bit of Vi, because even in the show its mentioned how she has a tendency of "blocking with her face", meaning, she prioritizes attack over defense, and that says a lot about her character

In Jayce's case, I think he has a very bad case of tunnel vision, he focuses on one thing at the time, and only one thing, and it's not like he's not intelligent, it's simply that when he's holding the hammer, why wouldn't he try to hit things first to solve the problems? Like, no he isn't inherently violent, but his extreme focus makes it so that when he's holding his hammer he has difficulty thinking of another non violent solution

Because that's why Viktor is there for. And that's also why I love JayVik so much lmao

I'm not saying that Jayce is a brute and Viktor is the calm one, I'm saying that Jayce probably only thinks straight forward while Viktor thinks sideways; they're both extremely smart, but approach things in different ways, and that's also why they're so good for each other, because when Jayce it's stuck with something Viktor pulls him out of that and helps him see another perspective, meanwhile Jayce helps focus and direct Viktor instead of letting him drift to the side

So, if Viktor had been there with Jayce to help him with the hammer related activities, he might've been able to tell him to calm down and think about another way to do things

And on the other hand, if Jayce had been with Viktor during the Hexcore experiments, he might've been able to find a way to make things work with the Hexcore without going sideways towards the blood and the shimmer

It's quite literally that the problems with these two only began once they separated lmao

Two volatile components that neutralize each other when mixed together

And I think another example of him having tunnel vision was back in S1A1, when he tried to commit suicide, he was so focused on how things should be, so when things couldn't go that way anymore he was completely lost and couldn't find his way out, that was until Viktor showed him the alternative path

That's also why I think people headcanon Jayce as having bipolar disorder, because his pivot from "it's over" to "we're so back" it's so sudden that it seems like a manic depressive episode; though I personally think he fits more with the rigid thinking of autism, but that might be me projecting since I also have autism lmao (low empathy autistic Jayce headcanon my beloved <3)

But as you can see; Jayce being violent is a very interesting part of his character, so I think instead of asking whether or not Jayce is violent, we should ask why is he violent

Also, violence isn't inherently negative, but rather a neutral thing; violence can be used for positive things

And, I find very ridiculous to think that these characters; that are league of legends characters, don't have any capacity for violence; like, I myself don't play LoL, but my friend does and has tried to drag me into hell, I mean, make me play LoL with her for years now; so I've been watching her playing LoL for a long time and I know what the game is about; and as I said before, fighting and inflicting violence it's baked into the very core of these characters, even Viktor and Ekko are designed to fight

Also, might be an unpopular opinion, but I don't think Jayce is a bad fighter, he just doesn't have a lot of fighting experience, but I mean, in the fight with Vi, for being his first time to fight with a giant hammer, he doesn't do all that bad

[feltedhousetrap]

Um, WoTC. Do you recall what the purpose of a tabletop rpg is? or how it is played? If not, allow me to summarize: A group of people who are or likely will become friends collaboratively sit down to have fun creating some sort of sequence of events based in the ruleset of the game in question.

When developing rules, you want them to make the above experience enjoyable for all involved. How, exactly, are you planning on training an AI on what makes a fun game and play experience? Because you cannot just make things up. And you need to have players interfacing with the rules baked into the training data. Which leaves you with a few options:

Train the AI exclusively on previous rule sets, and other games, thus making a game WITHOUT PLAYTESTING (bad idea for many reasons). a) Potentially include War Stories, thus getting some training data on typically the more extreme experiences, from the perspective of (only) the player who felt like they were being cool.

Train the AI on play by post games. This is kind of valid if you want to make a game for playing by post - I am concerned about how you got that data however, and you probably want to cater more to the live play experience.

Train the AI on recorded online sessions obtained from e.g. Roll20. This could be useful for a game meant to be run exclusively over the internet, which is OK if that is your goal. You are straying a bit from the "tabletop" idea though. Also, many people use the virtual tabletop for only the tactile parts of the game, leaving the actual RP (two thirds of "RPG"!) to take place through a separate and typically non-linked program. This means your training data is incomplete, not to mention that this mode of play likely has a higher incidence of total strangers. Oh and of course this means using live recordings of people who almost certainly did not consent.

Violate every kind of respect for privacy and train your AI on recordings of people playing in their own homes. Considering I addressed this to WoTC, I probably do actually need to tell you that this makes you a very, very bad guy who needs to be defeated.

[amelikos]

Amethio.

[ectonurites]

SUPER DARK TIMES (2017) DIR KEVIN PHILLIPS

[sesamenom]

apologies for the lack of art lately, i just got new glasses and am still adjusting :(

in the meantime, anyone have thoughts about lomion and tyelpe's relationship in the reverse gondolin au?

[mostly-imagines]

Careless Accidents

jason todd x fem!reader

aka you get hurt and jason’s pissed

warnings: reader’s wrist is accidentally sprained from being grabbed too hard

You could hear scuttling from somewhere else in the garden, an estate more than sizable enough than the game afoot.

You were under the distinct impression though that the bats and birds are playing with you similar to how they would a child. Slower, weaker, and less experienced than the big kids. You weren't complaining though. Because, frankly, it was stressful. They tend to operate more like they’re in a warzone than a game, you felt like you were about to be sniped out at any second.

Rightfully so, apparently, seeing how silently Stephanie had crept up on you.

“Hey,” Stephanie hissed, ignoring the way you jumped. “We’re doing alright for ourselves,” she said smugly. 

“Yeah,” you’d nodded, like you agreed with her more than you probably did. 

“Okay listen, I think the flag—” what flag? “—is by the fountain so, I think because there’s three of us and two of them, we should bait-and-switch.”

“We’re on teams?” you asked, no longer completely sure you know what you’re playing. 

“We are now!” she smiled, starting to run. “I’ll bait!”

She stopped briefly in her tracks and turned back to you hissing, “Don’t trust Cass,” before scurrying away.

Rather than sit around and wait there for…something?...to happen, you jumped up darting in the opposite direction with little to no indication whether this is a good move.

What you didn’t see is Cass rapidly approaching from your rear. 

What you also didn’t see was Dick crouched down in a row of shrubbery, which gave him the perfect opportunity to snatch your arm up and yank you down with him. You’d mewled a bit as your wrist made contact harshly with the grass, immediately buckling under you.

Cass was keen to your pain immediately, slowing her sprint to a stroll as she observed you.

“Are you okay?” she signs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” 

The response was instinctual and you didn’t actually have time to register whether or not you were okay by the time you gave it. 

You pushed up on your elbows, trying to figure out whether Dick is even on your team, but the way the others approached had you halting consideration. They’re savvy to the situation at a speed in which you can only attribute to their vigilantism, looking at you with concern. 

“You good?” Tim asked, approaching languidly.

“That looked like it hurt,” Cass commented, crouching down next to you to see your wrist better.

Dick shook his head, “No, she’s okay.” He turned to you, prodding, “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m, um…” you winced, looking at your wrist. “It hurts a little.”

Cass examined it closely, tilting it gently to the side. “It might be sprained.”

Dick paled. 

“No.”

Tim pointed a thumb back towards the manor, “We can get it wrapped upstairs.”

“No.”

You were only then able to clock the barely contained grin on Stephanie’s face, begging to break.  

“Ooooh. He’s gonna kill you.”

Cass had then kindly offered to take you inside and wrap it up for you, which you accepted, unexpecting of the plus-one of Dick trailing behind you like a guilty puppy all the while.

“You know I didn’t mean to grab you that hard right? I—” 

Cass laughs quietly as she wraps the bandage around your wrist, amused by Dick’s now-third explanation/apology for the incident. 

“I know, Dick,” you say, trying to appease him. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells you genuinely, but you can tell there’s more there that he isn’t verbalizing.

You nod, “I know, Dick. It’s okay. It was just an accident.”

Cass pins the wrapping in place securely and with a smile, signs to you that she’s all done. 

You rotate your arm a bit, testing your movement under the wrap. As Cass leaves with the first aid kit, Dick remains sat at your side, leg thumping up and down.

He takes a deep breath, “What if…what if you avoid him until it heals?”

“Dick.”

He takes your uninjured hand in his with urgency in his eyes, 

He looks down at your jointed hands before loosening his already mild grip significantly.

“Are you going to tell him?” he asks, looking like he’s bracing for bad news.

You shake your head sympathetically, “No. I can’t guarantee you that he won’t find out, but I won’t tell him.”

Dick takes a deep breath, looking at the ground with intense focus. “Okay. Okay.” He stands, “I need to go.”

You watch in amused bewilderment as he staggers out the door, looking around frantically. 

Within the next few minutes, he creates and enacts his plan A. He walks into the living room, sitting down next to a very disinterested Tim, eyes forward and serious.

“I’ll give you two grand right now if you tell him it was you.”

Tim barks out, “Absolutely not.” He looks at his brother, still laughing. “No fucking way.”

Dick breaks the serious facade immediately, looking at him. “Five.”

A deadpan from Tim. 

“You don’t have five thousand dollars.”

Dick throws his head back, back thudding against the couch. “Dude, please! He’ll kill me!”

Tim scoffs, “He’d kill me!”

Dick huffs, “No, it’s different for me! Do you have any idea how many times he told me not to do that?” 

“Well then it sounds like you fucked up,” Tim sneers.

“Oh my God.”

He takes off again, combing through different rooms in the house with hope of finding a quick but effective hiding place for, say, the next twenty years?

He bursts through the study, unwittingly interrupting Bruce and Alfred having a discussion over tea.

The latter sits up with a tense brow, “Master Dick?”

The former turns around in his seat, “What’s the matter?”

Dick struggles for a second before confessing, “I accidentally sprained someone's wrist.” 

Bruce scans his face slowly, nodding. “Alright…you’ll have to take responsibility for their patrol duties—”

Dick cuts him off with a sharp breath, “Said person doesn’t have any patrol duties to be affected...”

Bruce processes for a moment before shaking his head.

“I can’t help you.”

Dick’s panic takes over again, prompting him to continue his scurry through the room, towards the other door.

Alfred interrupts his process with a very logical argument, “You don’t think running away will make this worse, Master Dick?”

“I—I don’t know!” Dick whines, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t know what to do!”

Bruce purses his lips, gesturing, “Dick, when you make a mistake…you have to submit to the consequences, you know that.”

Dick gapes, “This is not a normal consequence!”

Meanwhile, you’ve busied yourself with fiddling with the knick knacks and mementos lining the shelves of Jason’s childhood bedroom. 

You’re admiring a picture of him and Alfred from when he was young as the door creaks open behind you. 

“Sweetheart?” Your boyfriend calls out, head barely poked in through the crack.

“Hey, Jay,” you smile, setting the picture frame back on the shelf.

He enters fully, covered in motor oil and grease, and smiles his sweet, easy smile when he sees you. 

Moving onto the next trinket on the shelf, you pick up a stuffed animal placed intentionally at the front. Your gaze finds the mirror, watching his reflection as he pulls the stained shirt off his back. 

You smile to yourself, noticing the way his back muscles flex as he adjusts. “How’s the bike?”

“Better than it was this morning,” he sighs. “Where’ve you been?”

He turns around to look at you, taking easy steps towards you. 

You return the toy elephant to its place, moving to face him. “Uh, we were outside, playing…at least three separate games at once.”

The second you’re in proximity, your hands join like it’s second nature. 

He nods, all too familiar with the family’s unique methods of gamefair.

“Did th—” He looks down at your intertwined hands, brow furrowing as soon as he spots the bandage wrapped around your wrist. “What happened?”

You glance down, shrugging. “Overexerted myself playing tag.”

He looks at you skeptically, but says nothing about it.

He turns your hand over gently, asking, “Is it sprained?”

You nod, relaxed. “Yeah. Cass said it’s mild.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No,” you say, sweeping his hair back with your other hand. “Barely hurt then.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look satisfied with the conversation.

Regardless, he turns away again, shuffling through a drawer for a clean shirt. 

“You, uh, you wanna stay for dinner tonight?” he asks, pulling his arms through, his head following. 

“Yeah,” you say gaily. “Alfred said he’s making his ‘special spaghetti’, apparently it’s a household favorite?”

He wavers, halfway to between decisions. “Yeah…”

He huffs quietly, turning back to face you fully. “Can I see it?”

You nod, happy to ease his mind. 

You start to unwrap the bandaging, him doing half the work for you. The work is done silently until your wrist is exposed, revealing your bruised skin.

You both see it at the same time—the hand-shaped bruise wrapped around your wrist.

You’re both quiet for a second—him putting pieces together and you waiting for the shoe to drop.

He takes off suddenly, clearly having come to a likely very accurate conclusion about what had happened.

“Fucking idiot—”

You try for his hand but he’s out of reach before you can grab it.

“I’ll be right back,” he grumbles behind him.

“Jason—” you sigh, “At least help me wrap it back up first.”

He hesitates, halfway to the door, ultimately returning to you in defeat. He takes your forearm gently, scanning it over again before beginning to wrap it.

You watch his face closely, noting the clear vexation. “It was just an accident,” you tell him. 

He scoffs, “It better have been.”

You drop your shoulders and lull your head to the side. “Jason. I’m not made of glass, you can’t expect other people to act like it.”

“I don’t. I expect him to mind his own strength, and if he can’t do that, he needs to keep his fucking hands to himself.”

You sigh, “Just don’t do anything harsh. Please. I think he’s worried you’re gonna punch him.”

“He should be,” he says shortly. He finishes off the wrapping, pinning it in place firmly. 

You grab onto his forearm before he can pull away, “You’re not going to. Right?”

He doesn’t answer so you try to make his gaze meet yours, “Right?”

His eyes roll, “Yeah, fine.”

You smile, holding his face. “I love you.”

He huffs as though he’s inconvenienced, but confesses the obvious truth nonetheless. “I love you.”

He looks you in the eye, face serious. “You promise me it doesn’t hurt?”

“I promise,” you nod, brushing your fingers against his palm.

“Dick!”

The angry voice bellows through the tall halls of the manor, heavy footsteps thudding.

He stomps into the living room, Tim, Cass, and Stephanie watching the entryway with wide eyes. 

“Where is he?”

Unwitting shoulders shrug and heads shake. Truthfully, at that. Dick, smartly, did not tell anyone where he was hiding. 

Jason scans the trios faces, looking for any sign of apprehension.

He clocks the grin shamelessly plastered across his sister's face quickly. “Stephanie?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “But let me know when you find him, I wanna see—”

But Jason’s moving onto the next room before she can get the last words out.

He enters the dining room, looking right to left before finding his target, halfway to stuffing himself behind the fine china cabinet in the corner.

There’s a brief, tense moment in between where the pair realize what they’re seeing and when Dick sets off in a sprint towards the kitchen, Jason quick on his tail. 

“Really? Really?” Jason shouts. 

“It was an accident! It was a fucking—” 

He narrowly dodges a swipe from Jason, then ducking before a ladle could make contact with his head.

“Are you stupid? Are you the dumbest motherf—”

Dick rounds the kitchen island as fast as possible, Jason testing him on the other side.

Dick takes a breath, “Dude, it’s fine now, it’s not that big of a—”

Jason recoils, “‘It’s not a big deal’? Come here. Let me sprain your wrist, asshole!”

He circles the counter quicker than the elder boy can think to move away and lunges at him. 

Dick throws his hands up in front of him, “Wait, wait, wait! Truce! Truce! Truce?”

Jason drops his shoulders, leveling his older brother with a look. “You can’t call a truce if you’re the only one who did anything wrong.”

“I…” It doesn’t take him long to piece together that his defense makes no sense, so he resorts to his last option. 

“Please?” Dick asks, nothing short of imploring. 

Jason relents—slightly—upon hearing his brother's tone, but still finds it in him to shove him, though not nearly as hard as he’d been planning to. 

“I told you a hundred fucking times not to grab her so hard—” 

Dick nods heavily, waving a hand. “I know, I know—”

“Clearly you fucking don’t!” Jason shouts. He huffs, running a hand over his face. “You sprained her wrist. You’ve been doing this vigilante shit for fifteen years, how do you still not fucking know how to control your own strength?”

Dick grimaces, “I do! I do, I just screwed up, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t—” Jason narrowly holds back a scowl, “Did you apologize to her?”

 “Yeah, of course I did!”

For a split second, Jason looks ready to keep arguing before purposefully dropping the anger from his body. 

The resulting relief almost drowns Dick.

It only lasts a moment though, before Jason looks at him again, sneering, “Idiot,” before pushing him once more. 

“Jason.”

Your voice has Jason dropping all turbulence in an instant. He and Dick both whip their heads towards the door, equally unexpecting of the interruption. 

You tilt your head at your boyfriend with a knowing but disappointed stare.

He looks back at you like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, lips parted.

“I didn’t hit him.”

⭐️ your options are: (1) reblog fics or (2) be a little bitch ⭐️

[eyelessfaces]

save the date

bob reynolds x reader

summary: bob is gutted to find out you’re looking for love on a dating app, not knowing the only reason you are is because you're convinced he will never make a step in your direction – you’re now both trying to move on from each other while neither of you know how much you actually want each other.

tags: f!reader, friends to lovers, misunderstandings/miscommunication trope, dating apps, oblivious idiots in love, mutual pining though both parts think it's unrequited, angst, alcohol consumption, bob takes care of drunk reader, mentions of bob's former addiction, insecurities, the thunderbolts are very involved, yelena being an amazing supportive friend and an aroace icon, I pick on walker a few times in there but I actually like the guy dw

word count: 6k

masterlist | taglist | ao3 | @eyelessupdates

buy me a coffee ♡

“I made a selection already but I’m not sure how to slim it down and which ones I should pick”

Yelena gives you a single, confident nod that tells you she got this and silently motions for you to hand her your phone, her lollipop standing by itself inside her mouth as she carefully looks through the different pictures you selected to potentially put on your profile, scrolling through them with the same focus she reviews mission plans with. 

She had helped you come up with things to write down for the descriptions on your profile, but you knew damn well that this was the most important part, the main object of attention, the thing that would make your first impression on those men you could potentially date. And you had to admit it was fucking terrifying in some way.

“Oh this one is nice. You look so cute” she says as she picks the lollipop out, stopping on one picture. “It’s definitely going up on your profile.” 

Before you can respond, she swipes again and nods decisively. “Oh and this one too.” she says it like it’s a fact, not up for discussion. “Your eyes look like you might want to kill someone, which is probably attractive to some people”

You huff out a laugh. “You say it like it’s a good thing”

“I told you, I wouldn’t be surprised some would be into it,” she says with a shrug as she sticks the baton back between her lips.

You chuckle and nod in appreciation though you're filled with a strange mix of feelings, caught somewhere between excitement and anticipation. It's all new to you, it's not something you have tried before, and you can feel a stress blooming at the bottom of your stomach – picking pictures for dozens of strangers to see is a bit intimidating, even when your face is already known for working as a New Avenger; it feels widely different to choose how you’re wanting to be seen, to put yourself out there for others to judge.

You watch as Yelena continues swiping to the left. “Oh I took that one!” she exclaims, face lighting up with pride as she points proudly to the screen. “Yeah it’s got a little kick. You didn’t even know the picture was being taken so it looks natural. Brings out your casual charm” 

You snort up a laugh and nod. “Okay thank you,” you grin, picking your phone back to set the couple pictures she chose and add them onto your profile. “Hey, thank you for helping me with this” you nod, giving her a grateful smile. “I know dating is not your thing so I appreciate your involvement even more”

“Sure, anytime” she tilts her head, giving you a shrug and a friendly smile. You go over your whole profile, assessing the final product, watching how it’s all supposed to reflect you for good now. 

Yelena turns around when a couple of knocks hit her door, and she allows entry, her face brightening when Bob reveals himself behind the door, a smile over his face. He greets the both of you sitting cross legged over Yelena's bed, and you reciprocate the smile as he steps inside. 

“Oh Bob, good thing you’re here we need a masculine input” Yelena swiftly takes the phone from your hands, showing Bob the set of pictures over the screen. “This looks alright to you?” 

Bob steps closer, eyes moving across the images slowly. “Yeah?” he shrugs positively, nodding genuinely, eyes darting back and forth between each picture of you on the screen before they land on you for real. “I mean you look great, what’s that for?” he asks, unsure what is expected of him.

“Dating app” Yelena says as she hands you your phone back. You look up at Bob, quickly feeling a slight heat creep up your cheeks before your gaze darts back down at your phone.

“Oh” Bob’s voice drops a little before he catches up with a smile. “Well you’ll do great,” he nods, his voice sincere. “I mean, whoever matches with you, they’ll be lucky”

“Thank you, Bob” you genuinely smile. 

Yelena glances up and watches as he fiddles with the hem of his sweater, and chooses not to say anything. 

Bob lightly clears his throat before he talks again. “Well I was just checking up on you, I’m gonna get going,” he says, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder. “Good luck with that,” he smiles.

You nod, watching as he heads for the door and closes it behind him with a soft click. Yelena raises an eyebrow at you once the sound fades, a little something in her gaze you can’t exactly define. “What?” you ask flatly, but the heat remains on your cheeks as she looks at you accusingly.

“Nothing,” she shrugs. You know she means the whole opposite of it.

—

This past week hasn't been the calmest, but then again, nothing ever really had been – not for Bob. 

He had been used to carrying the discomfort his whole life, tossing it quietly at the corners of his mind, letting the mess grow until he couldn’t handle it anymore. Like everything else, it had just been a matter of dealing with it, pushing through, and trying to come to terms with it. 

Bob sits in his usual spot of the common area when he reads, but now, it's not really what this is about, as he can't seem to focus and rereads the same line over and over again without ever truly grasping its meaning and the image that is supposed to be painted inside his mind. 

Because the only thing he can think about is you, knowing that you're dodging movie night tonight to go on that date.

You had just mentioned it earlier this week – hadn’t made much of a show out of it, just told the team you wouldn’t spend that Friday evening with them the way you did every other Friday, the way your routine as a group had set it. 

And you didn’t even specify what it was, where you were going, what you were doing and who you were doing it with. 

But it made sense and spoke for itself, but still, as Bob heard Alexei ask and you answered him with what was implied, it still hurt.

This whole dating app profile thing shouldn't have him overthinking it so much, because technically, there was no reason for it to.

And the worst and most confusing thing was, it wasn't even jealousy or something – being jealous would imply he had something to lose, but there, he didn't have anything to begin with, not rightfully. 

He knew damn well he could never be enough for you, that was something he had figured out the moment he realized the feelings he had for you. 

So he didn’t feel angry. He felt less than. He felt small.

And he hates feeling so deeply about it, hates that an overwhelming ache grows inside his stomach every time he has to think about it, hates the insecurity that creeps up his thoughts and gnaws at everything else until it's all he can think about, until all he can hear is the distant voice of the Void telling him he could never be worth it, could never deserve someone like you. He’s used to it, but it feels different now that it involves someone else indirectly. Hurts in a whole different way. Especially when he truly wants someone to make you happy, even if it involves it not being him.

“Bob” Bucky calls, watching him from a distance, noticing Bob’s gaze unfocused, away from his book, not even pretending to read anymore. “You alright kid?” he asks once Bob’s head perks up, giving him his attention. The team had taken the habit of snapping him out of it whenever it looked like Bob was too deep inside his own head, to distract him with something else before his thoughts got too intense – though Bucky knew for a fact there sometimes was no use trying to chase it away, that if it had to crawl back and consume you whole, it would. 

“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Yeah I'm fine” Bob smiles. 

That was the default answer, no matter how he truly felt, despite having been wanting to be more honest about his feelings as per his therapist’s advice – it wasn’t supposed to be that deep in this specific case, it was just some teenage-like feelings, so lying about it wasn’t so wrong, it didn’t feel like the kind of thing worth confessing, wasn’t the kind of pain that deserved air. 

Yet it still hurt.

Bucky nods, barely convinced, but chooses not to say anything, not to push it.

He knows better than anyone else how much it costs to be honest about whatever the hell goes on inside your own head.

—

You stumble out of the elevator, gathering the little focus you have left to try not to trip over your own feet as you make your way inside. Your eyes are glassy, your gaze unfocused and the view around you is scattered from the alcohol poisoning your blood, but the force of habit makes you quick to join the couch and finally sit down. Your limbs somehow feel equally heavy and light, but your legs ache in a whole different way, one that makes you dread the fact that you’re going to have to drag yourself to your bedroom – it makes you consider crashing here, on the couch, without even taking care of removing your makeup and getting into more comfortable clothes, because you swear that once the thought lodges itself inside your brain, it makes you convinced you could fall asleep right then and there. 

That is until a soft shuffle draws your attention, and you notice Bob quietly sitting in his corner, turned to you. “Hey,” you smile, the muscles of your face numb.

“Hey” he responds gently, standing up to join you. “You okay?” he asks as he sits beside you, a worried frown transforming his usually soft face when he sees how glassy your eyes are, how tired the lines over your face make you seem to be.

“I’m so drunk, Bob” you whine softly, hand coming to rub at your eyes, smudging your mascara even further. 

“Happens,” he shrugs with an easy smile.

“‘m sorry, I didn’t want you to see me like this, ‘figured everyone would be sleeping” you apologize. 

He hums quietly and presses a hand at your back. “I’ve seen and been way worse, believe me” he pinches his lips into a small, compassionate smile. “Come on, let me help you get to bed”

“I’m okay,” you wave him off just to be polite, already embarrassed enough that he has to see you in this state. You get up and he’s quick to do the same, grasping your wrist when you almost lose balance.

“Yeah, sure” he snorts a small laugh, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to stabilize you as he starts to lead you towards your room. 

You lean against him, instinctively trusting the way he guides your stumbling feet towards the room. “I just– don’t wanna be a drag” you mutter.

“You’re not,” he assures you. His face grows warm when you wrap your arm around him for more balance, the path of your feet shifting slightly before he rectifies the trajectory. “I would have liked having someone to care for me back when I was using”

Once in your room, Bob turns the light on and helps you sit down on the edge of your bed, a soft sigh of relief escaping you when you're finally there and finally able to rest your aching legs. 

He has already moved to your bathroom before you can thank him for helping you, coming out with a few cotton pads and your bottle of makeup remover. You watch as he sits beside you, the mattress dipping softly under his weight. “Can I?”

You nod, suddenly feeling the urge to remain quiet instead of wanting to apologize once more. 

His hand hesitates with a slight tremble before it gently settles at your jaw, holding your face while the other starts to carefully wipe the makeup away; he can clearly feel the heaviness of your gaze over him while he does this for you, can almost taste the quiet tension filling the air.

Neither of you speaks or attempts to fill the silence, you're way too close to each other to bring yet another layer of closeness, and you're too mesmerized by the way his gaze focuses on you yet remains avoidant anyway.

You're convinced the warmth in your chest has nothing to do with the alcohol anymore – it's intimate in a way that momentarily has you slightly sobering up, anchoring you to reality.

Your eyes flutter shut when he wants to clean the mascara off your lashes, and the gentleness and carefulness he handles you with leaves you weak. 

Bob lightly clears his throat when he’s done, giving you a small, awkward smile. 

“Pajamas” he points out, quickly walking over to your dresser as if to move on and diffuse the tension that has settled. He rummages through, pulling out one of your large shirts and a pair of shorts before he turns back and hands them out to you. 

“Here,” he says, voice dipping, a bit awkward now.

You reach out for them, immediately already pulling your shirt off over your head, not even thinking. Bob practically leaps to turn around, ears burning red. “Oh! Sorry– I didn’t– I’m not looking.”

You giggle tiredly. “You’re fine, Bob.”

The heat in his face barely fades away as he waits, swaying back and forth on his feet, eyes glued to the wall. He only turns back to you once you confirm you’re done, waiting a couple seconds just in case, to avoid further embarrassment.

“Alright,” he huffs out softly. “You all good? Can I do anything else?”

He's too gentle, too devoid of judgement, too caring. You don't answer right away, just stare at him for what you think you would judge to be way too long if you were sober. 

Your tiredness hits you in the face at full force, your stomach tightening in a way that is different to the feeling of needing to spill your guts.

You eventually shake your head slowly, vision still swaying. “Thank you,” you murmur quietly, voice cracking slightly.

You know it's over the moment your tears are flooding your eyes before you can even think to hold them back. 

You start profusely apologizing the moment Bob rushes back to your side when he sees you breaking into soft sobs, sitting down next to you. “I’m sorry, this is so stupid” you apologize.

He shakes his head immediately, hand reaching and hovering over your knee before he decides to put it over your shoulder instead. “Hey. No it’s not. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, trying to swipe your tears away, ashamed of how freely they fall now that you have no control over them. “It’s just– you’re so nice,” you whisper, a tremble laced through your voice. “And I’m making a fool of myself while you watch and help and it’s so fucking embarrassing, and now that I’m crying it’s even worse” 

Bob huffs out a soft, almost fond laugh. “Come on, I used to be an addict. I’ve embarrassed myself more times than I can count. You think you being drunk and crying a little is gonna change the way I see you?”

You breathe out something between a sob and a laugh, and when you look up at him, his smile somehow makes you mirror it.

Until it all catches up to you and your smile fades as quickly as it came, and the lump that starts forming in your throat seems to be carrying the weight of what you’ve been dragging around for weeks.

You shake your head, letting out a scattered breath. It feels different than the silliness of crying because you’re embarrassed that you’re drunk – it’s like the switch has been flipped, and the precise reason why you got drunk is now floating back to the surface and clawing at your back.

And Bob feels it. He watches you carefully, doesn’t push you, waits for you to say anything, ready to listen.

“It's just– I spent most of the night at the bar down the street after the date” you eventually say. “Just to get drunk and forget about it” you admit, your voice lowering. Bob’s eyes flicker along your face, intently listening. “The guy was nice but I hated it, I think I'm the problem, Bob, and you’re–” you croak out as you look back at him, blinking your tears away when it gets too much before you go on. 

His head instinctively shakes, his hand reaching your face to brush away the hair that sticks to your tears stained cheeks. “I thought that dating app thing would be a good idea but it’s not working and it’s barely… keeping me distracted from the fact that–” 

“Hey,” he murmurs, a frown over his face. “Just because it didn’t work out this time doesn’t mean it never will” he shrugs, eyes roaming along your face. “I’m sure you will get other opportunities and– and I’m convinced you will eventually find the right person” he nods, a reassuring smile over his face when you look up at him, eyes blinking your tears away. “And when you do… I’ll be rooting for you. You deserve it.”

You nod, holding it back. It’s no use telling him more, not when he made it clear he’s not the one waiting for you at the end of this, not when you’re now set on the idea before you could even unburden yourself of it all.

—

Your dating app is a mess of half assed conversations with good looking but painfully uninteresting men – you’re not pretending to be better than them, but it’s an actual torture to try to go through texting some of them, between the stupid and cringe ones, those who take two to three business days to respond, and those who only want to get in your pants and don’t even try to disguise it.

The nice ones make themselves rare but still can’t seem to do it for you, so it pains you to have to go through the whole process again, but you take a chance at trying to match with some new faces. 

You look up from your phone when you hear the sound of Bob’s laugh when Ava says something to piss Walker off, making him roll his eyes and leave the room.

Ava sighs something about him having an ego so massive he can’t even take a joke, and joins you, taking a look over your shoulder behind the couch. 

“Oh my god, what is that” she grimaces as she glances at the screen of your phone, an obviously disgusted expression over her face. 

“I know,” you sigh, immediately clicking the cross on the side of the screen, making the profile vanish, revealing the next one. “I want to give up already”

“You would probably do yourself a favor”

“Is it really going that bad?” Yelena asks from her spot on the couch, gaze still focused on the show on the television. 

“I mean,” you start, taking a breath as you adjust your position on the couch. “I have a date planned in a couple days, and he’s nice and actually cares about me and what I have to say” Ava watches as Bob swiftly picks up his book from the table and flees the scene once he sees the direction the conversation is going, leaving the three of you to it. “But I feel like I need a backup plan in case it doesn’t go so well”

“Okay, I’m gonna need a picture so I know who my next target is if that man hurts you in any way” Yelena casually declares, her slight frown indicating she’s half joking, half serious.

“Mhm, count me in” Ava nods in agreement. “You can also guess their intentions and good faith through their eyes”

You huff out a small laugh before you go fetch the guy’s profile, pulling up his pictures.

Ava sees them first and hurries to climb onto the couch from behind to sit down next to you. “Oh honey, I know what your backup plan is, and he lives with us” she scoffs, mouth hanging in disbelief as she takes the phone from your hands to get a better look. Yelena frowns softly, still waiting to see the pictures, and you’re almost as confused, raising an eyebrow at Ava. “This guy looks just like Bob” she huffs out low enough so no one outside the room could hear if they happened to be nearby, eyes wide as she points at the screen of your phone like she tries to make you see it.

This makes Yelena grab the tv remote and pause her show, reaching to grab the phone from Ava.

“Come on, back me up on this,” Ava urges Yelena.

Yelena’s mouth twists into a small grimace that makes her suspense agonizing. “I mean, they do have the same haircut, yeah” she says before she scrolls to take a look at the other pictures, her head tilting slightly as she goes on. “Yeah he does look like Bob. Like a more pretentious Bob” she eventually declares, surrendering to what’s obvious, giving you an apologetic grin. 

“Thank you!” Ava whisper-shouts. “You have to admit it’s a hell of a coincidence”

You chuckle, unsure what to say for your own defense. “We’re in New York, Bob is bound to have plenty of doppelgangers” you declare matter-of-factly with a shrug.

“I’m afraid this isn’t exactly what this is about” Yelena counters in a mumble, looking away when you glance at her, scratching her temple, teasingly pretending she didn’t say anything. 

You know exactly what she means. But no part of you wants to talk about it, no part of you wants to admit it, because this is all you have been trying to avoid, this is the reason you have been trying so hard to make something out of that dating app. 

“Whatever,” you sigh, suddenly wanting to crawl inside a hole and never come out.

“God, it’s so painful watching you two,” Ava rolls her eyes.

“Ava–” Yelena scolds, throwing her a knowing glance when she guesses where she wants to take the conversation.

“No, come on, I can’t be the only one. I can’t be the only one who sees it, and this evil Bob twin is proof” she insists, trying to get Yelena on her side.

Yelena sends Ava a death glare that you know barely impresses her, but still prevents her from adding more and makes her lift her hands in surrender.

The silence that follows is carrying the weight of everything you don’t want to name out loud, the weight of everything Yelena is trying to hold back from Ava too because it is not their business to resolve, but only yours.

And while you're deep down aware of the problem, you’re not exactly sure how to do it.

—

Things get worse before they get better.

That was all you heard during your whole life, and so far, the saying had proven itself to be true.

Only now, things only seem to get more awful as you go on. 

Because you cannot, despite everything you have tried, stop thinking about how stupid everything gets whenever you try to stop thinking about it and eventually end up only thinking about it more.

Because as you watch Bob dig through the crates of the record store while you’re supposed to do the same, you can't help but face the fact that there is no one else you would rather do this with, and trying to bury your feelings only makes them resurface and hurt tenfold.

You know pulling away isn’t the solution and can barely be considered as an option – he’s still one of your closest friends and you don’t want to hurt him that way, and the idea of losing him altogether is unbearable. 

And maybe all of this is what makes it all the more complicated.

So trying to find someone else to have feelings for still seems like the best solution despite not going great so far, but you have to give it a try, you have to find a way out of this dead end. 

You have to give that date tonight your best chance.

That’s the only solution you see when you stare at Bob.

“I found grace” Bob says suddenly, hands braced on the edge of a crate, tearing you out of your thoughts.

You blink, suddenly snapped back to reality, the distant sound of Soundgarden playing from the speakers of the shop clearer now that it’s not just your thoughts overtaking your brain. You squint at Bob, frowning in confusion. “Huh?”

“The album. Grace. Jeff Buckley” he makes clear as he lifts the record slightly to show you the album cover, chuckling softly when he realizes how it sounded.

“Oh, right” you let out a soft, breathy laugh. “Nice” you smile.

“You can have it,” he offers, pulling it out from the vertical pile. 

“Nah don’t be stupid. You found it” you chuckle, watching as he nods in surrender before tucking the record under his arm. 

It had become a thing, your thing. To go and search through local record stores after you both had established wanting to get a physical copy of all of your favorite albums – sharing the same taste made it a little more interesting, and it felt special to share that activity. Borderline intimate, even. Which in the actual context, makes it worse for you. 

“Are you alright?” he eventually asks, noticing you don’t seem fully present. 

You give him a quiet approval, trying to ignore the front pieces of his hair falling in front of his eyes and how much you would want to push them away if you weren’t actively trying to get over him. 

“We should go to that place you like. The one with the carrot cake” he suggests, smiling when he sees your face light up at the offer. “I think we have enough time before I have to go to my therapy session”

—

Bob enters Yelena's room without even knocking, much against his habits – he considers apologizing for the matter of half a second before the reason he's here floods back at him in urgency and nothing else seems important anymore. “I need to talk to you about something.”

She raises an eyebrow in interest as she quickly glances up from her phone, letting him know that despite being busy, she's ready to listen. “Sure.”

“It's serious,” Bob adds, voice low with gravity. 

Yelena is quick to toss her phone aside and give him her full attention, concerned by his tone, foot pushing to the floor so her chair can spin towards his direction. “Okay, spit it out.”

“I–” he starts, eyes closing momentarily when he lets go of the loose thread he's been pulling at on his flannel to scratch his forehead, an uncomfortable smile over his face. He thinks of backing out, considers it for a moment, but he knows he’s not a coward, knows he shouldn’t be, and knows he has to go through with it before it’s too late.

Yelena waits, watches Bob intently as his mouth opens to no sound, moving like he's unsure how to articulate whatever he wants to say. 

“I know,” she eventually grins before he can begin to talk, too impatient to not pull the rug from under his feet and make it easier for him, guessing what it's all about from seeing the nervous expression over his face just from having to word it out loud. And as much as she would like to hear him say and finally admit it, she's the last person who officially needs to hear about it.

“What?” he frowns, confused. “I didn’t even say anything yet” he chuckles, borderline offended that she caught him off guard with such force and ease.

“I know what you're going to say, and I don't even want you to say it because I'm not the one you should be saying it to” Yelena shrugs, mouth twisting into a grin. 

Bob doesn’t know what to say, not really. His mouth closes in defeat though it’s barely one, his neck suddenly itching from the anxiety growing from the pit of his stomach.

“It’s all over your face, Bob. Has been for a while. And you shouldn’t even need my opinion. Go for it” Yelena nods, a supportive smile tugging at her lips. “You got this.”

—

You set on wearing the exact same thing you did on that previous, disastrous date. 

If you were superstitious, you would probably throw it back into your closet and never pull it out for that kind of occasions again, but it happens to be an efficient outfit on all the other levels aside from whatever factor it was that made your other date bust, and looking good and feeling comfortable is an undeniable privilege that is worth keeping.

You feel strangely excited – it’s so surprising that you start to wonder if there’s not something you’re leaving out of the equation, but you easily roll with the fact that you for once believe things could go well and decide not to question it.

You leave the pieces of clothes folded onto your bed like a physical representation of your procrastination – maybe that the later you will wear it, the later you will start anticipating and feeling nervous about that date, but preparing things so early when your date is far away as four hours already attests to how much you’re deep down overthinking it. 

When you join the common room in hopes you will channel your energy into something and it turns out to be completely vacant, you’re not so sure what your plan is; you’re even starting to wish even Walker was here, which attests to how strange everything feels at the moment. 

You catch glance of a sheet of paper on the floor and immediately assume it got loose from one of Bucky’s files – you know he likes working here on the rare occasions the room happens to be less than half empty, so you pick it up and put it back over the table so he knows it’s here. 

The room is so quiet it has you looking out the window like it is the only thing you can busy yourself with. You’ve grown so used to the view that you sometimes forget how impressive it actually is, that high up above New York. 

When you turn around after a few moments of watching the other buildings and thinking about how intimidating they look as opposed to their view at night, you go and pour yourself a glass of water, picking and filling another one when the light sound of Bob’s footsteps echo through the empty room when he finds you. 

“Don't go on that date tonight”

The unexpected mention of the subject from him shakes something within you, and you still for a second, eyes meeting him as you put the jug of water back down. “What?”

“Please don’t go on that date.” Bob repeats, his voice gentler this time, less firm. 

“Why?” you let go of the glass in your hand.

A short silence hangs for a second before he talks, like he’s waiting and contemplating before the bomb goes off. But there’s no turning back now, he knows that. “I see how much it has you struggling, don’t tell me it’s doing you any good” he frowns softly.

Your eyebrows raise, your gaze shifting back down at your glass of water. He has a point, but in the long run, you don’t want it to remain true, and you don’t even see why it would matter that much to him. “It’s not, but I have to give it a better try, and I’m actually confident about that date, so,” you explain in your own defense, even though it sounds more like you’re trying to convince yourself. “I can’t just sit around and wait for it to happen” you shrug.

“It's happening right now,” he chuckles uncomfortably. 

He forces himself to take a steadying breath when he sees the small frown growing from confusion over your face, and he gathers all the confidence he couldn’t get for months before he says it. 

“I like you,” he declares. 

It should feel like the world stops there, but it doesn’t, so he goes on. “And it’s getting really exhausting pretending I don’t” he huffs out in a nervous admission, hands gesturing at his sides.

No matter how intensely he tries to read your gaze at that moment, nothing gives away the way you’re taking in the information – the confusion is etched all over your face, like a mask that hides everything else. 

Your mouth opens before it closes, opening again just a second later. “Wha– why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

His mouth tightens into a strained smile. “Uh… I figured I wasn’t worth it” he shrugs indifferently, like what he’s admitting about himself is barely important. “Still kinda do,” he admits, head tilting slightly. “But my therapist– we've been working on opening up. I've been working on opening up” he nods in earnest. “That's what I'm doing right now” he affirms, voice quieter with endearing awkwardness.

It’s what it must feel like when machines short circuit, because you have no idea how to function anymore, how to go on from there, what to say. 

You let out a breath you barely realize you had been repressing, one that holds all the disbelief of the situation, and despite that relief, your chest remains tight from his confession – you don’t think this one feeling is going to go away so easily. 

“Bob I thought you didn’t–” you halt, unsure what to pick out to say out of the whirlwind of things coming and going inside your head. “I’ve been trying to tell you” you blurt out. “That night I came back drunk.” 

“What?” he asks, face twisting in bewilderment.

You nod, lips pinching into a half amused smile. “I thought you would never ask me out, and it’s the exact reason I put myself on that dating app” you explain.

Bob breaks into a stunned chuckle, hand coming to rub at his eyes. “So you’re telling me it was right there and…”

“Mhm,” you nod, huffing out a laugh. 

You both shift into a soft laughter from how you have obliviously made things complicated between you, and when it quiets down, the atmosphere falls back to seriousness again, but now that everything is let loose in between you, the dynamic feels relaxed in a whole other way, like that previous overwhelming tension had been looming over your heads.

“So…” he rests a hand against the table, leaning onto his side. “Date offer can still stand, but, y’know…” his head tilts to the side teasingly. “With me”

Your chest rises with a quiet inhale, shaken by how fast your heart rate has managed to rise. “Okay,” you say softly, grinning at the idea of a proper date with him – it suddenly changes the whole aspect of going on a date for you.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” you smile.

He blinks, then that smile, the one that makes your stomach flip every single time without fail, grows across his face like he still can't really believe it, like he had stepped into this without expecting anything but walked out with everything. “Okay,” he repeats, voice gentler now, like he’s really taking it in.

“Hey, just one thing,” you ask, making him raise an eyebrow expectantly. “I think we should keep it on the low and enjoy it for a little before the team starts to make fun of us.”

—

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[sukeruton-san]

Sorta Maybe Blind pt 2

First Next

It has been four hours since the initial discovery of his appearance and he's come to figure out it's not just that he looks like he'll kneel over and die with a small breeze but he feels like it too. side effects just keep coming!

Apparently his eyes are extremely sensitive to the light now. he opened them fully once and it hurt like hell, even with the smog. his internal temperature has always been a little bit on the cold side but now he feels like a freezer and his rugged t-shirt and jean combo is not helping. he's a little frustrated with how much he's shaking especially on his left side

Oh he thinks he forgot to mention that his left side now has a huge lichtenberg figure on it, starting from his hand going all the way up his arm and spreading across his back and chest swirling where his heart should be it also goes all the way down his left leg into the bottom of his foot, some of it is even peeking across his neck. He thinks it's the scar that was supposed to show itself when the accident happened but it didn't.

it's here now and it constantly aches too, another aspect of the ectoplasm levels here. He thinks he's become more fatigued but his sleep schedule was already shity to begin with, 4-5 hours a week can do that to a person. same with his appetite, food was more dangerous than edible most of the time at h- Fentonworks.

He ducked into an alleyway to search through the duffle bag that was packed for him, squinting to lessen the light in his eyes. and he found a lot. Hygiene products, a new phone and modified Phantom-phone courtesy of Tucker, notebooks, files, a lot of snacks, bottled water, Med kit, wild survival kits courtesy of jazz, bunch of the Fentonworks inventions now phantom-tech that he and Tucker modified and improved together, some clothing items courtesy of Sam, and a bunch of other miscellaneous items/small bags he didn't want to look into right now except for

Oh. . .

Oh ancients the fuck Sam!?!?

Sam gave him a crossbody satchel filled with big money, and when he says big money he means probably thousands in big money!?!? taking two 50s out and shoving the satchel inside his chest he looked to see what the notebooks and files were about.

One of the files was the necessary paperwork for his new identity that Tucker and Jazz helped create together, and judging by the glowing green sticky note Clockwork helped them too, probably about the sorta maybe blind thing he got going on. The other files containing pretty much all the Fenton works blueprints and or recipes for chemical compounds like the ecto-dejecto and the cleaning spray for ectoplasm.

The notebooks were small but thick, they hold a variety of things ranging from tips and tricks, locations that may be useful, information about Gotham in general, several were blank, and others had other little things he won't get to. One notebook was dedicated to everything he has done as Phantom, his battles, achievements, and things they learned about his weird biology. some of it was clearly done by Clockwork cuz he hasn't told anybody the full story about Dan or the clones or the other fights and challenges he faced.

Did he forget to mention that besides the necessary paperwork everything was written in Braille? No? because it was.

Deciding that he was done searching through the bag for now he put on a black hoodie with blob ghost sewn on the front, took out his new phone, and put the Phantom-phone in. He turned on the blind aid in the accessibility function and turned the brightness down significantly. He pulls up Google to look for a place to rent. They all begrudgingly agreed that they won't call or text until a month has passed so suspicions won't be as tight on them. Finding something close and cheap and pulling up the directions to speak audibly he goes on his merry way.

Hopefully the owner will be nice enough to him even though he's barely 16 trying to rent an apartment.

--------------- *Hour and a half later*------------------

The building fucking abandoned

No like the top half of it looked like it exploded years ago and Google still says it's for rent!?!?

Why!?

You know what fuck it! he's already made his way over here and it geting dark fast. he'll find a decent corner in there to sleep tonight.

Squeezing his his way through a hole that was supposed to be a door, tripping, and landing face first on the broken disgusting floor below him.

_______________________________________________

Batman and Robin were investigating a weapons deal that was happening later tonight in an abandoned apartment complex, half the building gone from an explosion courtesy of Two Face. 30 minutes before the deal they were doing a quick sweep of the two floors that remain when

*Smack*

Someone face planted 5 ft away from them.

"Ow " they rub their face for a minute before sitting up and

" That's a blind child " Robin was slightly bewildered by the black haired, blind and before closing his eyes he was able to make out the dull icey blue color. He was ill looking 13-14 in age.

A blind boy that was deathly pale, warringly skinny and most importantly alone.

He points in the vague direction of Robin before stating "I'll have you know I'm almost 16 and you don't sound much older than I do" he feels across the ground searching for the phone that was a few inches away from his reach.

Batman grabs the phone off the floor before standing the boy up himself and handing it to him. " The apartment building you have been following is out of service "

" Oh, why is it still operational on Google?"

" Tch, It seems someone has failed to inform the online networks of this buildings status, which is a incompetence on their part" Robin walked up to be beside the boy.

" what's more important is why you were looking for an apartment building in the first place. You're alone as well, when someone should be there with you when you cannot see or you should at least have a cain. It is also heading to a time of night where you should not be walking outside."

" What is this an interrogation, why should I be telling you what I am doing, who even are you." The boy crosses his arms backing away slightly

" We are Batman and Robin and we are only concerned of your safety" the big bat himself States in a softer than usual for his Batman growl.

Robin looks over at him giving him a look before signing ' are you serious ' then folded his arms. Batman ignores him.

Multiple footsteps could be heard across the floor, Batman grabs a hold of the child before grappling up and away from sight. Robin does the same in a different direction.

_______________________________________________

Holy SHIT

Fenton luck strikes again because he just walked in on The Batman and fucking Robin on an investigation and he interrupted. Being held in Batman's arms he realizes that either he's tiny or Batman's huge because he's at least three times his size.

This is turning out to be one of the more fucked up situations he has ever been in. Let's hope he won't fuck up the situation even more then he already has.

(sorry for the cliffhanger I need to rest my brain a bit with writing, but here is what I've written Hope you enjoy also I saw the reblog from @athyriaceae and took it into consideration thank you for rebloging)

[neigepomme]

˙ ✩°˖ 🐦‍⬛ mon amour / sylus x reader

synopsis; you knew that sylus could speak several languages. what you didn't take into account though, is how lethal he sounds flirting with you in the most romantic language in the world.

🍎 pomme's notes - putting my french knowledge to use.. translation for the words sylus uses at the end!!

⋆ 1.1k words / fluff & suggestive at the end / fem reader / 2nd person

your cheeks were burning, and the man in front of you was smirking, making you feel even more infuriated. how could he get even sexier?!

"that's enough, sylus", you huff out.

how did you get here? great question.

you were lounging on the settee in his office and reading a book when he picked up a call in a foreign language — one you recognized as french. sylus spoke several languages, and you knew that, but you weren't aware he was that fluent. oh, and sexy sounding, but he didn't need to know that yet. 

when he hung up, you cleared your throat, catching his attention. looking up from his papers, he stares at you with his habitual laid-back expression. judging from your barely hidden smile though, he can guess you're after something. sylus stands up and walks around his desk to face you better, choosing to lean against it rather than invade the space where you're seated for once.

“something's the matter, sweetie?”

you hum, your smile widening. you never thought your intro to french class in high school would come in handy, but it turns out life is full of surprises.

“i didn't know you spoke french, monsieur sylus.”

ah, your curiosity stemmed from the foreign language at the tip of his tongue. sylus laughed softly, taking a step in your direction. he'd spoken various languages around you, mostly in business contexts, and never failed to observe how your eyes twinkled at the words coming out of his mouth. however, this was the first time you had commented on it, and he was going to use that to his advantage. standing in front of you now, his gaze flickered to your lips. was he trying to pull a reaction out of you?

“i do, mon ange. interested in hearing more? you know that i'd indulge you if you asked.”

hearing him calling you his angel in french did some things to your stomach, you'll give him that — feeling the heat rise in your face, you quickly explain how you took some french in high school. in response, he leans back and raises his hand to his chin, as if pondering something, and judging from the smirk growing on his face, it can't be good for you.

“perhaps we should converse a bit to refresh your knowledge, shall we, doll? i'll even use simple words.”

oh. that was more tame than you thought, seems like he decided not to tease the blush on your cheeks. you nod, and give him your best attempt at a greeting, to which he chuckles a bit — probably from your rusty pronunciation. he responds patiently and corrects any pronunciation mistakes you make. this was sweet, no hidden motives, which surprised you.

well, that was an error in your judgment, it seems, because he most definitely did have ulterior motives. 

now leaning back down and caging your body between the seat and himself, sylus cleared his throat a bit, aiming to impress you with his smooth french. it was the language of romance after all, wasn't it? and what a fool would he be if he didn't romance you.

“my turn to show off, mon amour.”

oh fuck. you were doomed.

“what to tell you, hm? oh, i know. je t'aime, je t'adore, mon cœur.”

your heart was beating concerningly fast at the sudden love declarations. did he have no shame? the answer was a resounding no, judging from how he was invading your space and relishing in your bated breaths and flushed cheeks.

“tu es rouge, mon amour. quelque chose te gêne? tell me all about it, mon ange.”

pushing weakly against his shoulders, you looked away from his intense gaze. if you kept looking into his eyes, you were most definitely going to melt from the inside out at how attractive he was.

and sylus knew that — of course he did, he could read you like a damn open book, and right now, you were putty in his hands. who knew flirting with you in french would have that effect? he did, most likely.

“sylus, you're being unfair.”

finally gathering your courage, you glared at him and tried your damnedest to look angry. although you don't think it looked very intimidating because of the red cheeks and all, but that was just a hunch. i mean, what could you even do in this situation? you were faced with an insanely gorgeous man, a well-read and clever one at that — who wouldn't swoon? but this was unfair. come on, throwing all those cute pet names at you with his smooth voice, in french, was a calculated move, one planned with your demise in mind.

and were you gonna go down without a fight? absolutely not. whether you'd win or not was debatable, though.

so you did the only thing that seemed rational. the only thing that had a chance at shutting him up and sparing you from the (very attractive, might i add) french love declaration sylus was spouting.

grabbing onto his shirt, you pull him in for a kiss, just a quick peck to shock him enough into stopping. but while his eyes widened in shock, it was not enough to stop him from teasing you.

what was it again about you winning the fight? yeah, no. sylus wasn't known as the relentless conqueror for nothing — and as he deepened the kiss, you would quickly find out that the language wasn't the only thing he knew that was french.

french kissing, too.

you yelped into his mouth when he bit your lower lip, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth while he was at it. cupping your cheeks, you could feel yourself melt into him and his stupidly good kisses. his hands started moving down, roaming over your body, as if trying to commit it to memory — though he likely already had from previous nights spent together. you started feeling light-headed from the intensity of it all and pushed him away, desperately trying to catch your breath. 

and infuriatingly enough, the smug look on his face could not be erased. could you really blame him, though? sylus was looking at the most beautiful person he'd ever have the chance to encounter, flushed and staring up at him with desire plastered over her face — all of it after he showed off his intellectual and physical prowess. he was a man, after all, a very, very proud and greedy one at that.

“you know, kitten, if you take off your clothes, i could draw you like a french girl. we could go three for three when it comes to french things.”

that pulled you out of the hazy state he put you in, slipping from his grasp and running out the door with a vicious blush on your face still — all while he laughed at how cute you looked flustered.

sylus was gonna be the death of you one day. you had to make sure he never learned you also picked up on some spanish, lest he tries to introduce you to spanish passion through physical means or something.

🍎 pomme's final notes - BEEP BEEP!! pomme translator at your service

"je t'aime, je t'adore, mon cœur." - i love you, i adore you, my heart

"tu es rouge, mon amour. quelque chose te gêne? tell me all about it, mon ange." - you're red, my love. something bothering you? tell me all about it, my angel.

i had a lot of fun with this one hehe..

[fake-bleach]

HOTEL ROOM | SOLDIER BOY x READER

"babysitting" a nearing hundred year old supe wasn't your ideal day, nor was it ever on your bucket list. but, maybe it'll be worthwhile.

word count: 7k

WARNINGS/DISCLAIMERS: (18+ only!) fem!reader, slight slow burn but very much worth it, porn w/ somewhat much plot & angst/fluff, praise/degrading, use of pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart, etc), drugs i.e. snorting shit (oops, but what else did u expect w/ him..), handjob, piv, unprotected gradual rough sex, tiny bit of hair pulling, coming inside, i thinkk that might be it? happy ending :p another disclaimer: soldier boy's def much softer/vulnerable here cus i feel like reader can change him :) (i'm delusional) :) hope u enjoy! <33

ao3 link! | my masterlist

it’s not like you wanted to babysit. 

and by babysit, i mean watching a 100 year old supe that was still very much alive and well. did i also mention that he was an asshole?

probably not, but you should know that too.

“butcher! no fucking way, there's no fucking way i’m doing this shit!”

you whispered loudly in the british man’s face, trying to make sure that supe couldn’t hear you. but, god, what could that man not do?

butcher rolled his eyes at you, that constant, smug smirk plastered on his face as he shook his head. “oh, c’mon love. you’ll be fine. all he’ll do is watch the telly, snort some shit, and talk ya’ ear off,” he laughed as he stared at your annoyed expression, “i need you here, anyway. can’t have anything happen to you, you got that?”

you turned away from him for a moment, crossing your arms and glancing at the infamous man sat on the hotel bed. you bit the inside of your cheek, sighing out as your head hung low, staring at the floor. for once, you just wanted butcher to take you seriously. to bring you along for the important shit, not this.

but, what else could you do?

you moved to face him again, letting out a noise of disapproval, but your words showing otherwise. “fine, fine, okay. just this one fucking time, okay? you owe me.” you spoke loudly now, your irritation extremely evident.

“oh, come on, doll. am i really that bad?”

soldier boy’s ben’s voice made you flinch; his booming voice sending a rush throughout your body. one part of you was afraid, and the other annoyed. you whipped your head to look at him, his large frame stood in front of you now. he was more than just large; he was powerful.. intimidating. and you’d be lying to yourself if he wasn’t at least a.. little attractive to you. but, you couldn’t let that affect you.

he also had an unbearable ego that practically everyone around him could sense, his arrogant smile directed towards you nearly making your blood boil. 

“considering how much of a conceited asshole you are, i’d say yes,” you bit back at him, returning a condescending grin in response.

ben whistled then, his smile never faltering as he took in your powerful presence and words. “phew! she’s a feisty one, yeah? she yours or is she for the taking?” he teased butcher as a low laugh erupted from him, making you groan. to your surprise, though, his question sounded genuine.

“oh, fuck you! i’m not anyone’s!” you let out, tightening your crossed arms as your eyes moved to butcher. he all but laughed, pursing his lips as he shook his head at ben, pausing for a moment. “oi, play nice you two. can’t be coming back to this room in shambles..” his eyes flickered between you and ben, licking his lips, “but, to answer your question; no, she ain’t, but good luck tryin’, mate. i tried it myself.”

you punched butcher’s shoulder at that, scoffing. “don’t encourage him, you asshole.”

butcher laughed, raising his hands in surrender and giving you an almost apologetic look as he backed up, starting to walk towards the hotel room door. “alright, bye now, love. and you–” he pointed towards ben, his face hardening for a second, “behave, will ya?”

you watched him open the door, shutting it behind him as dread filled your every being. you turned to ben again, his eyes already fixed on you with that same smirk.

“oh yeah, i’ll definitely behave.”

only a few hours in, and you already feel like you’re going insane.

a ton of snarky remarks and about a million snorts of cocaine later, you’re just fighting the throbbing headache that’s building up. hell, anyone would feel the same in your position.

ben was sitting at the small table, you at the end of the bed right next to it, surrounded by fast food and pills. using the end of his knife, he was crushing the small tablets on the table, turning them into fine, white powder. it made you cringe, to say the least.

you watched him as he lined it up, sliding his nose through it eagerly as he sniffed, snorting the line completely. he let out a groan of satisfaction, the white powder stuck on his skin as the high he so desperately craved filled his body.

you let out a quiet chuckle to yourself, shaking your head. for one of the greatest supes in the history of mankind, he was certainly a treasure.

not.

“what are you laughin’ at, huh?” ben looks at you, his face firm as he poses the question. your lips flip, pursing, then frowning slightly as you shake your head. “oh, nothing, nothing. you just.. love that shit, don’t you?” you accuse, a small chuckle escaping your lips again.

his face shifts, a faint smile presented. “what? you want some, is that it?”

“oh no, god no. don’t want any coke of yours, no thank you.” you turn him down instantly, almost as if you couldn’t dream of it.

he laughs now, the deep gravel in it making you shudder slightly. “s’not cocaine, sweetheart. something like it, yeah, but not coke,” he informs you, watching intently as you return your attention to him, interest piquing. you didn’t know much about these kinds of drugs, surprisingly enough considering the people you surrounded yourself with, but you weren’t completely innocent.

he takes notice of your sudden curiosity; your eyes widening just a tad bit more than usual. the way your body language shifts. he notices it all.

cocking his head slightly, he lets out a small chuckle again. “you ever done drugs before, sweetheart?” he asks sincerely, wanting to know. you deny, shaking your head, “no, i mean– i’ve smoked weed maybe once, but i don’t know– never had a reason to do it again, i guess.”

he raises an eyebrow at that, leaning back against the chair he was sat in and crosses his arms. “that so? i’m shocked,” he hums, biting the inside of his cheek at he stares at you, “powerhouse like you, i woulda’ expected you to do allll that crazy shit.”

you snort, looking at him in disbelief. “you got the wrong idea of me then, soldier boy.” you tell him, emphasizing his name. boost his ego a bit more for the fun of it, y’know?

he snickers, staring at you as if you were some puzzle he needed to solve. “do i?” he pushes, leaning a bit forward, “i don’t think i do.”

you roll your eyes at him. “and why’s that?” 

he breathes out, grinning even wider. “sweetheart, you’ve got it written all over you.”

your eyebrows furrow at him, confused. the fuck did he mean by that?

before you could question him, he beats you to it, laying it on you.

“i mean, your attitude with butcher earlier? i don’t know about you, but that don’t sound like someone who takes shit.” he scoffs, his eyes locked on you as he pauses.

“...and you’re not taking any of mine, are you?”

you breathe out through your nose, licking your drying lips and taking in his words. “no, no i guess i’m not,” you admit, appreciating the slight bit of generosity from him, “but, what’s that gotta do with me and your drugs?” you laugh, unable to connect the two.

ben shakes his head, uncrossing his arms and moving his forearm on top of the table, leaning on it. “you’re a curious one, aren’t you? that’s why you didn’t wanna stay with me, right? y’wanted to go out there, save the fuckin’ world, huh?” he inquires, giving you the perfect opportunity to tease him instead of taking him seriously.

“well, no. i actually didn’t wanna stay with you because you’re an–”

“stop being a fuckin’ nag and answer the question.”

his voice booms in your ears, the direct intimidation from him working on you like a charm. you swallow, eyes shifting to look at the table for a moment before returning to him. 

“fine, whatever, i guess you’re right, yeah, i’m.. curious. but, fuck..” you lick your bottom lip, shaking your head as you stare out in front of you, “you try being part of this shit for years, and not being given any opportunity to..” you trail off, huffing.

“to be a hero?” ben questions.

you turn to him now, sad eyes staring into his own. “to be a hero.”

he shakes his head, wiping his mouth and nose as he inhales sharply. “you don’t want that life, kid. trust me.”

your jaw falls open a bit at him, your voice rising, “what the hell do you know about what i want? you don’t know me.”

he huffs, his hand pressing into his knee as leverage as his body leans in towards you, scoffing.

“the fuck did i go through? huh? i was asleep for decades, sweetheart. much before that, i was tortured and experimented on and treated like a piece of fucking meat. an animal.” you stare at him sadly, your demeanor falling as he looks at you with hardened eyes.

“being a fuckin’ hero..” he shakes his head, laughing as his head lowers to look down at his lap, “look where the fuck that got me.” he mutters out, his upper lip twitching as he breathes heavily.

silence fills the room between you two as the faint background noise from the television whirs. you didn’t know what to say. you just knew that maybe.. you were wrong about soldier boy– ben.

he was avoiding your gaze, his chest rising and falling in an attempt to calm himself down. you swallow, pursing your lips. “ben.. i’m sorry you went through that, i really am,” you began, causing him to lift his head at you, “but.. that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve helped people. you’ve saved people. and, yeah, maybe sometimes you weren’t the good guy, but.. you’ve done more than what a lot of people would.”

he looks at you with doe eyes, taking in your little speech. he nods, and it’s almost as if he can’t possibly believe you, but he does. he decides to trust you as your words give him the slightest bit of hope in his heart. an emotion he hasn’t felt all these years.

he sniffs suddenly, clearing his throat and shaking his head as if he were shaking himself out of it. “yeah, well, maybe you’re right. still wouldn’t want yo–” he pauses, cutting himself off, “uh, y’know, going through that.”

you give him a small smile, understanding him completely. it was hard for him to be vulnerable; you knew that now. but, you appreciated his efforts nonetheless. it made you see him.. differently. the way he spoke to you about his experiences.. you wondered if there truly was a good man underneath that harsh persona.

“well, thank you.. soldier boy.”

“oh, stop with that shit. ben.”

you smile. “ben.”

“alright, love. m’ sorry, i promise i’ll make it up to you, yeah?”

you groan into the phone held against your ear, picking up the words of the same british man on the other end of the line. god, i’m never letting him off the hook, you thought to yourself. 

“okay, yeah, whatever.”

“don’t stay mad at me–”

you cut him off, “bye, butcher.”

“bye, love.”

you hear him end the phone call, the sound making you throw your phone down on the bed irritatedly. “the fuck happened?” ben asks you as he sits up on the bed, putting the remote down from surfing through channels with you for hours now. it was nighttime before you knew it, and you spent most of the day talking to ben here and there, as well as watching random shows and movies. certain topics were definitely touchy, but you were starting to get to know him more, and him with you.

you huff, walking over to the empty side of the bed to sit down next to him, crossing your arms. “we gotta stay here for the night. butcher n’ hughie are being held up with some.. shit, and don’t want us leaving without them.”

he lets out a chuckle towards your frustration. “don’t see a problem with that.”

you roll your eyes, turning to face him. “of course you don’t, you’re like– a million years old. i’m bored!” you whine, groaning. you don’t mean to act immature or fussy, but fuck, you were younger than him and needed other kinds of entertainment to survive (dramatically put). shitty television just wasn’t doing it for you.

he scoffs, “oh, fuck you. i can be plenty of fun, doll.”

“oh, yeah? prove it.” you reply, raising an eyebrow.

he smirks at you then, leaning in a bit closer as his face grows snarky. “you want me to show you fun?” he teases.

you groan, grimacing, “ugh, grossss..” you draw out, swallowing sharply as you turn away.

what you didn’t want to do was recognize the butterflies you felt at the thought. or the way your heart skipped a beat at him growing closer towards you. fuck, no.

he snickers, eyes still fixed on you completely. “oh, c’mon, honey. y’know i’m a great fuck. n’ besides.. it’s been awhile..” he teases you further, and he makes it sound so sleazy that it feels like a joke; fuck, maybe he really was just trying to rile you up.

you shake your head though, playing along. “nice try, ben. gonna have to try harder than that, though.” you stand your ground, giving him a faux smile.

he raises his hands in surrender, shrugging his shoulders. “hey, i’ll fuckin’ work for it, baby, i’ll tell you that much.” he admits, grinning at you.

you try your hardest to keep your composure, fighting the heat growing in your face, especially with that new nickname he gives you. a weak spot.

fuck. this was gonna be much harder than you thought.

you’re finishing the leftover fries that ben requested earlier, snagging them from his side as you laid next to him on the bed; cold and soggy, and definitely not appetizing, but you’re working with what you’ve got. you feel the bed shift before looking up at ben, his eyes on you as he moves.

“so, other ideas of fun..” ben trails, standing up from the bed and walking towards the table.

“i’m listening..” you curiously give in.

he grabs his knife, pouring out the remainder of his pills, and starts to crush them, noticing the way his eyes look up at you, eyebrows raised.

“you do a line with me. just one–” he suggests, his attention focused to see how you’ll react. “and you can loosen up for fuckin’ once.”

you grimace at his suggestion, denying him immediately. “no, ben, i don’t.. i don’t know. this isn’t my kind of thing, you know that..” you speak, evidently unsure of the act. come on, snorting some random, crushed up pills? didn’t sound like much fun to you.

he puts the knife down, turning his entire body to fully face you now. “hey, you said you were curious, didn’t you?” he raises an eyebrow, “doesn’t hurt to try it once. besides.. you can trust me, can’t you?” he teases, a sly smile on his face.

you huff, “yeah, sure. sure i can.” you joke at him, sarcasm filling your voice entirely. your face drops though, seriously contemplating his inquiry. “okay, seriously, though. it won’t fuck me up.. completely, right?”

he laughs at your question, his low voice rumbling. “not unless you take more than you can handle, baby.” he tells you, starting to crush the pills again. “i’m right here, though. i’ll getcha’ through it. promise.”

you were shocked at how.. kind he was being with you. how utterly careful he was with you now. it was odd, to say the least. but, you liked this side of him. maybe that’s why you were starting to feel so comfortable with him now.

you think about it for a few seconds longer before ultimately coming to a decision. “i.. okay, okay. just once.” you agree, nervously standing up from the bed and approaching the table, pulling up another chair to sit next to him.

fuck it. what else did you have to lose?

sitting down, you watch carefully as he proceeds to crush up the pills, examining how fine the powder turned. ben uses the knife to separate it, forming some of it into a line that was a bit shorter than what you saw him repeatedly snort earlier. 

was he making sure he wasn’t giving you too much? maybe. you didn’t want to think of it too much.. his intentions. you couldn’t. 

you swallow tensely, eyes flickering from the table to his face as he finishes, his own setting themselves on you. he gives you a small smile; an almost encouraging kind, providing you with a bit of comfort.

he raises an eyebrow at you. “you ready?”

“uh,” you stammer out, biting your bottom lip, “what exactly.. is it, though? i mean, what’s it gonna do to me?” you ask warily, second thoughts arising in your head.

he sighs out as he attempts to think of what to say. “these here are bennies, as we call em’. or, well– what i call em’,” he lets out a small laugh, cocking his head, “they’re amphetamines. they’ll just.. give ya’ a bit more energy.. that euphoria people talk about,” he explains to you as thoroughly as he can, “shouldn’t last too long, n’ if anything, you can try to sleep it off, sweetheart. no harm, no foul.”

he watches your face as you absorb his answer, noticing your features relax with each second that passes. he grins even more, listening to you.

“okay.. okay, doesn’t sound.. too bad. let’s do it,” you quickly spur out, shaking yourself out of it. “fuck it.”

“atta girl.” he gleames, his hand lifting to rub your upper back gently for just a moment; a moment long enough to send chills down your spine. the first time he’s really made any physical contact with you, and you’re already a mess. 

fuck, why did that feel good? why did that sound good? it was a harmless gesture.

you need that high, and you need it now. maybe that was the only way you could get through this long ass night with him.

“okay. do i just.. sniff it, uh?” you ask him, letting out an embarrassed laugh as your lips turn upwards. he nods, his own lips curling. “don’t overthink it. you’ve seen me do it a hundred times now,” he tells you confidently, muttering out the last words, “y’know what to do, honey.”

you just nod, leaning your head forward and slowly putting your nose against the right side of the line. before you can allow yourself to back out, you slide your nose towards the left, snorting it completely. you lift your head up, an abrupt cough escaping your throat as your nose burns, your eyes rolling back before shutting tightly.

“oh, there you fucking go. there you go, baby, there you go..” ben softly praises you, his words almost echoing in your ears as your head thumps. his hand returns back to your skin as he rubs your back in circular motions, your breathing growing heavy as you feel the drug enter your system.

“oh, fuck, ben, what the fuck!” you let out, a laugh escaping your throat as your head grows hazy. you turn to him, his hand still rubbing your back, which was definitely helping, and you grin widely. “that was fucking crazy!” you all but yell, excitement getting the best of you. what a way to show your experience, huh?

he chuckles, shaking his head as he stares at you. “alright, don’t get ahead of yourself, peaches. barely gave you half of what i’d normally do,” ben tells you, teeth bare as his smile widens, “that’s enough shit for you, little lady. can’t be too much of a bad influence on ya’, can i? butcher would rip me a new one.. or he’d try, at least.”

you giggle at that, your composure slowly, but surely, fading. “oh ben, aren’t you supposed to be a big n’ bad supe?” you breathe out, “he’s just a man.. and you’re a.. superhero.. y’wouldn’t let him..” you murmur out, eyes dazed out as you look at the man in front of you. his scruffy beard.. his messy hair.. the details in his skin.. fuck.

was he always this pretty?

you giggle again, his hand slowly lowering to the midst of your back to rest there. he chuckles lowly; an action that makes your breath hitch. “oh, sweetheart.. you’re feeling it already, aren’t you? quicker than i thought..” he trails off, cocking his head, “you think i’m some big, bad supe? s’that it?” he teases, lips curling up as he breathes you in, inching just a tad bit closer. “think i wouldn’t let him get one in?” he whispers.

you shake your head, smile dropping as your face hardens. “no, no, i wouldn’t, nuh uh,” you deny, biting your lip as energy suddenly surges through you, your filter entirely out the window. “i’ve seen you, you know? i mean, who hasn’t? videos of.. the way you fight.. you’re strong..” you mutter, swallowing as you giggle again, “so strong.”

he laughs, his index and middle finger connecting to rub subtle circles on your skin, “have you now?” he asks almost matter-of-factly, “you did research on me, baby?”

your stomach drops a bit, butterflies storming your stomach at the nickname again. you stammer out, “no, no, not research– i mean– yeah, i.. searched you up, but i jus’ wanted to see who you were before i.. came here, but.. s’not like i.. put that much thought into it, i–” you spit out, an involuntary laugh erupting from you as your cheeks heat up from your confession. a lie that escapes straight through your teeth.

oh god. why the fuck were you saying all of this shit outloud? stop!

he shrugs, a sly frown swift on his lips. “don’t gotta make a fuss about it, honey. s’cute. real sweet of you..” he grins, the hand so glued onto your back sliding down sleekly, fingers gripping onto your hip now. you gasp softly at the sudden touch, his grasp on you pulling you just a bit closer to him. your chairs are right next to each other, hips nearly joined together now. he whispers out, his mouth close enough to catch your ear, “sweet girl like you.. i’m honored you think of me that way. wouldn’t have suspected it from how feisty you were earlier.”

you roll your eyes at him, avoiding the flutter in your core as the drug builds up inside of you, fighting it. “oh, come on. you probably used to get this shit all of the time.”

he breathes out, shaking his head. “not from people i want it from..” his jaw falls open as his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, murmuring, “..not from you.”

your breath hitches in your throat, turning your head to look at him as your cheeks flush. you gulp, heartbeat quickening as you notice his gaze entirely locked on you. he was being serious. this wasn’t some kind of sick game of his.

you remain quiet, unsure how to respond. too nervous, too dazed to come up with some snarky remark you usually would; that you should bite back with. but, you don’t.

instead, ben’s fingers dance on your hip subtly, his other hand lifting up to caress your face; his thumb gliding against your cheek, trailing down to your bottom lip as his gaze that was once on your eyes fixes onto your mouth.. gorgeous as ever.

his thumb catches itself on your lip, pulling it down gently as he hums, satisfied. you gulp, shaking your head gently as you process what this was leading up to.

“ben.. we shouldn’t..” you whisper out, shutting your eyes for a moment as you pull away from him; just enough to have his hold off of your face. he was a fucking supe, for christ sake. you were human. and sooner or later, he’d be gone again; just like that. you couldn’t. no matter how much you so desperately craved it.

he lets out a disappointed noise, breathing out through his mouth, “why not, sweetheart?” he closes in on you again, lips near your ear as he hums, “don’t you like me, baby? don’t you want me? i like you.. n’ i sure as hell.. need you..” he sighs out, his hot breath hitting the sensitive skin on your neck, your body trembling at the feeling.

you groan softly at his words and the touch of his breath against your skin, shutting your eyes tightly. he huffs, pushing his nose softly against your neck, inhaling your scent and rapidly muttering out, “c’mon, baby, c’mon.. gonna take care of you, yeah? make you feel good, don’t y’want that?” he presses kisses on your neck, slowly trailing up to your cheek as his hands move to cup your face, quiet gasps escaping your lips. your eyes open up hazily, rolling to the back of your head as you lift your neck just enough to give him more room.

you don’t even think before you’re pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips, quietly moaning into it as your eyes flutter shut again; your disoriented mind taking over your body completely. he groans against your mouth, his soft lips becoming so harsh against yours, needy and having been deprived of this pleasure for so long.

he pulls away from the kiss for a moment, allowing the two of you to catch your breath as his large hand grips your face, the hold on it tight and rugged. he turns your head to the side, moving in to attack your neck once more with his lips, teeth grazing the skin as he grunts, his body closing in entirely.

it’s primal; instinctive and downright dirty the more he grows impatient. no longer gentle; not him, not now. he all but stands as he leans into you, his free hand moving from your back to your hips, wrapping his arm around you as he uses his super strength to lift you up effortlessly. you yelp as he picks you up, placing you directly on his lap as he settles himself back in his chair, your legs hung around his sides to the best of your ability.

“pretty fucking girl.. you stay right here..” he murmurs out, returning his kisses on you as if his seamless actions were nothing. his hands move to grip your hips tightly now, pushing you further into his lap as you involuntarily grind into him; his cock through those grey sweatpants of his beginning to harden.

“b-ben,” you stammer out, pants heavy as you let him touch you, feel you just how he wants, and you, taking him as you please. your hips and their movements quicken slowly, gradually building up and up the more your cunt throbs against his clothed skin; the way his strong hands keep you moving for him without a second to waste.

your cloudy mind from the drug intervenes with your control, unable to fully grasp your feelings or words that slip from your mind, keeping you completely vulnerable to the man below you. 

god, did that annoy you. 

but, fuck, did it feel so good.

“need you to fuck me, please, ben, please..” you whine out, grinding your core against his hardened cock faster, harder, your impatience getting the best of you. he laughs against your skin, a small moan seeping out of it as he gently bites your neck. “so needy, aren’t you, baby? gonna give you what you want, don’t you worry..”

the hands on your hips find themselves lowering, landing on your ass instantly as ben squeezes, groaning out at the feeling of your flush skin beneath his fingertips. he takes control of you easily, moving your body along his thighs and digging your cunt where he needs it the most. 

the constant friction makes you wetter with each push of his hands, his cock imprinting against his sweatpants with a perfect outline, your panties growing soaked at the sensation of it. an incoherent string of noises falls out of your lips, the gasps and moans sounding like porn to ben’s ears. a satisfied laugh from him shakes you to your core, that deep rumble multiplying your arousal.

you take matters into your own hands, fingers pushing down against his wrists to get him to loosen his grip on you, which he does. you scoot yourself back to disconnect your body from his abdomen, hips stilling on his thighs now, giving you an enticing view of the strain in his pants.

“i said..” you breathe out, mouth falling open as you look into his eyes, lust pouring out of them, “i need you to fuck me,” you emphasize, your fingers moving to palm his bulging cock through his sweats, “so, fuck me.”

you can’t be bothered anymore. you’re past waiting.

your hands slowly find a rhythm as you maintain eye contact with him, ben immediately reacting with a low moan as his hips thrust needily, “fuck, baby..” he hisses out as your fingers slip to the waistband of his sweats, your hand reaching beneath the layer. to your surprise, and delight; no underwear.

god, he was a fucking whore. you loved it. 

“jesus christ, ben,” you let out a laugh as you wrap your fingers around his cock, putting just enough pressure on it, and it makes him twitch against your touch. it elicits a throaty whine from his lips that has you clenching around nothing, squeezing him tighter, tighter. “jus’ take what you want, sweetheart, need you ‘round me, c’mon, ” ben spurs out rapidly, his words the least coherent they’ve been; his usual, old hollywood-esque diction in his voice gone. 

soldier boy, begging you with your hands on his cock and your ass in his lap? 

you couldn’t have possibly dreamt of this moment till now.

you try to hold yourself back, but the little amount of sobriety inside of you’s hardly strong enough to help you achieve that. no more waiting. not now.

“you’re lucky i’m impatient,” you breathe out, and before ben can react, you’re slipping his cock out of his sweats, the heavy weight of him on your hand sending you into a damn near spiral as he twitches against your fingers again, pre-cum practically leaking out of the tip.

you let go of him though, fingers desperately moving to the waistband of your loose sweats to slip them off. ben’s helping you immediately, lifting your hip for you with one hand, and the other hurriedly pushing them down, nearly ripping them off from the pace and force; off, off, off, he all but mutters out with eager noises.

“stupid fuckin’.. fuck, g’off–” ben grumbles until they’re successfully on the floor, and he sighs out in satisfaction, “no more fuckin’ waiting, n’more teasing.”

you nod hurriedly at him, bare legs exposed for him now as his fingers dig into your thighs, taking no second to waste to slide to the hem of your panties, fingers hooking onto them. “useless fuckin’ things,” ben murmurs, and before you can protest, he rips them off seamlessly, throwing them to the floor.

your jaw falls open, gasping out at him, “ben! fuck, i needed those! i didn’t pack any–” 

he shuts you up instantly, his thick index and middle fingers finding your slit, swiping through your soaked folds, and you whine loudly, the sensation making your core tighten. he hushes you softly, looking up at you eagerly, “shh, shh, honey, y’don’t need that shit with me, not now. gonna fuck you right here. now. you’re soaked already.” 

your heavy eyes stare into his own, nodding eagerly as the tip of his fingers bump against your clit, sending a jolt throughout your body. he moans with a short laugh, leaning in to press a messy kiss to your mouth, his other hand just above your ass. he taps your lower back, muttering, “come up here.. gonna have you sit on my cock.. get in as deep as i fucking can.”

you grunt at his words, whining, “fuck, please, ben..” as the sole thought of it sends pulses to your pussy. you nod frantically, immediately scooting closer on his lap to reach his member, kneeling on the sides of his body to lift yourself up. ben’s hand grips the base of his cock to lift it up, and he’s hard, the girth making you drool. you gulp, wondering how the fuck you’ll fit it in, but you’re too high to fucking care.

you position yourself above him, the fat head of it lined up to your cunt perfectly. his hand on your back helps you move closer, the tip nudging against your hole as both hands grip your hips now, fingers digging into your skin. you bite your lip as you look down at his cock, core tensing in preparation. staring into his eyes now, you move, lowering yourself slowly as your walls engulf him bit by bit, inch by inch.

both of you moan as you take him, clenching around him so much that you nearly see stars. you’re so tight around him, and he’s in heaven.

ben groans loudly as his eyes fix on your pussy, and it’s porn right in front of him. he sputters out mindless noises, gritting his teeth as you finally take him to the hilt, feeling his cock fill you up, nudging the deepest parts inside of you.

you hiss out as you sink, your thighs colliding with his own as you adjust to him. “you’re so fuckin’.. tight, oh fuck, sweetheart..” he whines out, and you’re relishing in this; in him. you start moving, hips involuntarily rocking against him as you move up and down. it’s messy; out of rhythm and desperate, but so fucking good.

“haven’t..” he grunts, gripping your hips harder for leverage, “fucked a pussy like this in a long fucking time.” his breaths grow louder the more you move, your throbbing hole just above the tip and slamming back down repeatedly. your core tightens as he starts to thrust up into you, meeting your synchronized movements immediately, and you cry out as you take it. 

you blabber out mindlessly at the sensation, incoherent whines and what seems to sound like ben’s name over and over again filling his ears, and he just laughs, lifting himself from the back of the chair to sit up, adjusting you with him. his chest meets your body, chin resting on your shoulder as his hand finds your hair, gripping it tightly and pushing your body into him. he’s flush against your skin as he huffs into your ear, the hot breath engulfing your brain. your fucked out head and blown, wide eyes.

he moves against you as you bounce on his cock, words spurring out with his harsh pants on your skin, fingers tightening into your hair, “no thoughts in this pretty head, huh? nothin’ but my fucking cock in this cunt. s’how it should be. pretty girls like you.. s’what you’re made for.. made for me.”

your head scrambles at his words; the way they’re so filthy, but most of all? 

because of how right he is.

he fits inside of you like a glove; a perfect hole that’s meant for him to fuck. it has your eyes lolling back over and over again, unable to truly focus on the task at hand. and when your movements begin to slow because of this, ben’s grip on you handles it for you, hips thrusting up into you aggressively. your stomach tightens repeatedly as the tip of his cock hits the deepest parts inside of you, practically bulging out with each hit into you, and it makes your pussy convulse around him, rambled noises escaping your lips.

“am i right, honey? are you made for me?” ben growls in your ear, his harsh grunts echoing, “fuckin’,” he huffs, “answer me..”

his words hardly register in your brain as you grow closer and closer to your release, short moans being the only thing you can muster out, along with a few noises that almost sound like ben’s name. “mmphf– b-be– ah–”

he shushes you, arms wrapped around your body, “don’t gotta think baby, just feel.. let me take you like this, just feel me..” ben whispers desperately into your ear, moving one of his hands to reach between you, the large palm pressing into your lower abdomen, “right fucking here. you’re gonna feel me for fucking days, baby.”

it has your stomach doing flips, body quivering against ben’s hold. your eyes shoot open as he begins to slow his thrusts, relying on pure power rather than speed now. his hips snap into you repeatedly, slow and deliberate as if he needs to make sure your body memorizes the shape of his cock.

and, knowing him? you probably will.

you know that you’ll never get fucked like this again. you know that you’re already completely ruined for any other man now. and a part of you’s okay with that.

his fingers gripping your hair. his hands digging into your skin. the strike of his hips, holding you captive for him as he takes you. how could you think of anything else?

ben’s power over you doesn’t relent at all, his super strength enough leverage to keep himself completely occupied. the hips slamming inside of you have you seeing stars now, your eyes threatening to twitch open in bliss as he buries himself in your throbbing cunt. you involuntarily flutter around him, walls pulsing as your core constricts.

you feel ben’s cock twitch inside of you, his moans growing heavier as he lets out a breathless laugh, “you’re so.. close, i can feel you, sweetheart..” he grunts and snarls, his thrusts quickening rapidly, “and you’re gonna come on my cock like the good girl you are.. while i fill you up.. make sure i stay in this sweet pussy forever.”

you cry out as that familiar heat in your stomach arises, blurting out nonsense, along with a, “p-please, ben, please–”, that leaves you panting.

“yeah, baby? want me to come inside of you, s’that it?”

you nod furiously, whining out as your face heats up at the thought, flush and its sensation overwhelming you. you’re hot all over, and you just need a release.

“that’s my girl.. my sweet girl. gonna come inside of you, give you what you need..” he breathes out against your ear, and before you realize it, you’re convulsing around his cock, yelping out as you come. your hands grip onto his back, his arms, anything you can hold onto as you ride through it.

“there we go, baby, just like that, my fuckin’ girl..” he encourages you, overstimulating you with his unrelenting hips as he buries himself inside of you over and over again, making you clench around him uncontrollably. you’re spewing out mindless moans as your walls spasm, and it makes ben whine. 

he grunts out rapidly, unable to control the noises he makes as his hands on your hips feel tight enough to leave bruises, “gonna.. gonna fuckin’, oh– fuck!–” he moans loudly, cutting himself off as he pushes you down to the hilt, cock twitching rapidly with his come spilling inside of you. you feel the streams of hot white bury inside of you, and you’re lightheaded at the feeling, the aftershocks of your orgasm forming tears in your eyes.

you whine against him as you hold on tight, his hips rocking into you as you both ride it out. it’s almost intimate at how breathless the two of you are, taking in each other completely.

he huffs against your skin, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. it’s wordless, but it goes without saying. 

this was a moment you’d never forget. and you hoped that he wouldn’t either.

eventually, ben lifts your hips up, his cock sliding out of you as the mess you both made slips out of your cunt, making you whine at the feeling of his come falling out of you. the slick catches itself on his cock, spilling onto his grey sweats sloppily, and you can’t deny the twinge of arousal the sight brings you. leave that for another time.

you take a deep breath as you let out a small laugh, preparing to say something about getting up and cleaning yourself up, but to your surprise, ben’s arm holds onto your body tightly, lifting you up as his other hand shoves his sweats down, feet stepping out of them. he’ll deal with it later.

you yelp as he stands up fully with you in his arms, carrying you as he walks over to the shitty hotel bathroom, lowering you to stand in the bathtub. ben hums softly as he grabs a small rag, running warm water underneath it and squeezing out the excess water.

you’re in too much.. shock to bring yourself to say anything, but when he brings the rag to wipe your inner thighs and core, you let out a noise of surprise, cheeks warming up. who the fuck knew soldier boy could be so.. gentle?

he doesn’t look up at you as he continues. instead, he asks, “what? too hot?”

you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “no, just right.”

he lets out a satisfied noise as he finishes cleaning you up thoroughly, throwing the rag to the side as he grabs another one for himself, repeating the process. you watch him in awe as he does so, and you try your hardest to make sure you don’t fall in love with him.

but, when he carries you to the hotel bed and lays you down like you’re glass that might break, it seems a bit too late for that. and when he gets in that bed with you and holds you like his life depends on it? 

you know you’re done for, and you’re in for a ride.

[nosyp]

Twst First Years reacting to someone else calling you 'honey' or 'sweetheart'

Second years | Third years

A/N = If the pictures look blurry... no they're not... if they r it's not my fault smh.

Ace Trappola

He'd probably pretend he wasn't jealous or anything. Like so what? But really, he's probably crying inside, you should go check up on him.

He’d act like it’s no big deal, and he swears it isnt. But it becomes all too apparent when his usual teasing turns sharper, and he’d jokingly start calling you by a bunch of random, funny nicknames to claim you. "Hey, sweetie pie, how’s it going?"

All in all, his jealousy would come out in the form of sarcastic humor.

Deuce spade

Deuce would get SO flustered. His face would turn bright red when he hears someone call you a nickname, and he’d try to act casual about it, but you’d catch the small change in his tone.

Deuce’s jealousy would be noticeable but still in between the realm of normal insecurity and possessiveness.

He’d try to play it cool, but his voice would have an edge to it when he says something like, “I didn’t know you were so close with them…” and then he’d glance over at the person who called you the nickname, making sure to shoot them a nasty glare.

After that, he'd keep a much closer eye on you from then on, glancing over at anyone who even looks in your direction, and might start using the nickname himself more often to show that you're his.

Epel Felmier

He would be more irritated with his reaction, but he'd try to hide it with a scowl or a grumble.

I mean, he’s already pretty sensitive about his image, so hearing someone call you something affectionate would make his jealousy flare up. He’d probably huff and cross his arms, muttering something like, “Tch, who do they think they are? Ain’t no way they get to call you that…”

If it happened in public, he might play it off coolly, but privately, you’d hear him start using his own affectionate nicknames for you, trying to claim the you back.

He’d also make little passive-aggressive comments to the person calling you that, like, “I didn’t know it was okay to act like you’re already dating someone when you're just friends…”

Jack Howl

Jack might be a bit more stoic about it, but you’d definitely see him tense up as soon as he hears it.

He wouldn’t make a scene, but hearing someone call you “sweetheart” would make his protective side kick in. He’d try to act calm, but you might notice him walking closer to you, subtly positioning himself to stand between you and the person who called you that.

Jack would probably make a comment like, “That nickname doesn’t suit you… I think you deserve something more special.” He might even be a bit more direct, saying something like, “I’m the only one who should be calling you things like that.”

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is a highly jealous character. If he hears someone call you “honey” or “sweetheart,” he's probably gonna flip out.

His first instinct is to protect you and assert that only he is allowed to be that familiar. He’ll probably storm up to the person with a stern expression and say something like, “How dare you call my precious human that! Only I have the right to call them that!”

Even though Sebek’s usually loud and a bit over-the-top, he’ll become extremely possessive in this situation.

After that whole fiasco, he might start calling you by overly dramatic, affectionate names like “beloved” or “my precious,” trying to show everyone that you belong to him.

[almadelsur]

💋 The Turmoil One Suffers

summary: In the second installment of The Secrets One Keeps, a relaxing day on the pogue proves to be anything but, with your inner struggles getting the better of you and JJ hot on your tail.

jj maybank x reader, rafe cameron x reader

warnings: some good old angsty pining, very very slight smut if you squint, fem!reader, talks of suffocation ig? plz let me know if I've missed anything.

a/n: SHE'S BACKKKK, so I've decided to completely reformat and re-post this fic with a few tweaks and editing considering I first wrote this like 3 years ago. Also, for those asking, I won't be doing a taglist for this fic bc I'm lazy and technologically deficient.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

You shouldn’t have been smoking, it made you feel uneasy, paranoid even.

You had found yourself on the pogue in the wake of Pope’s incessant bitching about how you had to make up for ditching them last night. The guilt had made you cave in. As he spoke, all that had flashed through your head was images of Rafe. You on top of Rafe, Rafe with his hands around your neck, the way Rafe’s hair felt between your fingers as you gripped on it when he got messy between your-

“Dude” Sarah’s voice snapped you out of your recurring thoughts.

You turned your head to her as you took a drag of the blunt JJ had rolled, "hmm?"

“I asked if you wanted a beer?”

You checked the time on your phone, 12pm. After enduring 3 hours on this floating nightmare, you decide you're probably deserving of one.

“uh yeah sure.” You took another hit, extending your arm to grab the cold bottle.

You bought the edge of the glass bottle up to your lips and took a swig, letting the liquid wash over your cotton mouth. A swig swiftly turning into a gulp as thirst suddenly became itself known to you. One gulp then turned to two and before you knew it the bottle dried out.

JJ eyed your every move, the feeling that had been bugging him since you got into the Twinkie that morning had now grown into full-blown concern. Your unusual behaviour was deafening with the sounds of alarm bells.

“Thirsty?” He spoke with furrowed brows, prompting Pope to chuckle though no joke had been intended.

Your eyes flickered towards JJ momentarily and instantly you knew what he was  thinking. Anger disguised as adrenaline coursed through you.

“Sarah will you pass me another? Mines empty.” Defiance clear in your tone, causing a thick tension to settle over the boat.

“'s a bit it early to start chugging drinks isn’t it?” JJ speaks up again before Sarah has time to respond.

You scoffed as you turned to him once more, maintaining eye contact as you took a long drag from blunt. As you exhaled the smoke, the thick white cloud blurred his features.

“Sarah” you tried again.

You hear a small sigh as she hands you another bottle.

“Thank you” You took another swig at the bottle, hoping the liquid would force down the concoction of guilt and anger that swirled in your mouth.

“So like am I saying words out loud or is it just in my head?” JJ tried, at this point he just wanted a reaction out of you.

“You asked me to come here.” Your tone was snippy, as another burst of smoke entered your system.

“well my mistake clearly.” He was getting pissed off now, and you couldn’t deny the sick satisfaction it gave you. You knew it was unfair, he hadn’t done anything wrong, you just couldn’t help it.

Pope cleared his throat. “This is a whole lotta tension for such a little boat.” He tried to lighten the mood but his joke fell flat.

As you downed your second beer, you took another drag. “It is isn’t it?” You turned to him.

“Maybe you should have some of this JJ, it’ll help you relax.” You threw the blunt in his direction, letting it fall at his feet.

“What the hell crawled up your ass today?” JJ spat at you, picking up the blunt.

The mixture of alcohol and weed infected your system, your breathing became staggered as you suddenly became hyper aware of the layers clinging onto your body.

You don't answer. Instead choosing to stand up and remove your T-shirt. Rafe returned to your mind as you focused on the image of him mimicking your same actions. Your trousers were next to go. You pushed them down whilst picturing Rafe’s hands running down your legs.

Pope eyed Sarah and JJ who’s gaze were trained on you and your movements.

“Whatcha doing there bud?” Sarah asked watching you strip down to your underwear.

“I’m too hot” was all you said, stepping off the edge of the boat and letting yourself plunge into the cool water below you.

As you became completely submerged, you breathed out all of the air in your irritated lungs. Leaving you empty and heavy as you continued to sink. The muffled noises of the water hit against your head yet all you could hear was your thoughts racing. 

As the need for air increased, the rush of thought slowed. You liked it. The weightlessness of your body, mixed with the numbing of all of your senses was peacefull. A welcome change from the overdrive your body had been running on for the past year. 

You forced yourself to stay down there, pushing your physical boundaries. A split second before completely losing consiousness you emerged again, letting the air penetrate through your system and invade your insides as it worked to reboot your muscles before giving life again to the internal mayhem in your mind again. 

You floated with your head above the surface and your back facing the pogues. You couldn’t find yourself to act remotely interested in what they thought about your little show. 

JJ in turn felt as though he was slowly loosing his head. He felt dumbfounded because it wasn’t just your behaviour that was different, your entire demeanour and vibe was off and he failed to comprehend what could have happened in the span of 12 hours for you to return to him a complete different person. 

Sarah could see the way he looked at you, he was hot on your tail and she panicked trying to divert his calculating eyes from you. “So” she spoke up loud enough so that you could hear and be part of the conversation should you wish to. “Theres a party at my house tonight.”

“Oh really?” JJ answered, evidently uninterested as he continued his stare down with the back of your head. 

“Yeah Ward’s out of town with Rose and y'know Rafe, any opportunity he has to get shitfaced he’ll take it.” Relief washed over her as JJ’s eyes finally unglued from you. 

At the mention of Rafe your ears perked up. 

“Do you guys wanna come?” A devilish grin on her face evident as she spoke. 

“A kook party? We wouldn't be welcome.” Pope answered for the three of you, prompting a scoff from Sarah. 

“It’s my house too, plus I already threatened Rafe to let me invite you guys. I told him I’d snitch on him otherwise.” She shrugged.

“I’m sure he loved that” JJ added, amused at the thought of antagonising the Cameron boy. 

“Well what did he say?” Three pairs of eyes turned to you as you finally spoke up from the water, now facing the boat again. 

JJ couldnt help the face that your question caused him to pull. Why did you suddenly care about what Rafe Cameron had to say? Sarah already said they could go so why did it even matter? 

“He said whatever as long we stay away from him.” Her answer caused Pope and JJ to roll their eyes. It had been somewhat of a lie though. 

Because what Rafe had really said when Sarah had threatened him was, “whatever just stay away from us, and why don't you go ahead and bring that sexy little friend of yours.” 

To which Sarah had replied with, “We wouldn’t want to hang out with you and your classist friends anyway. Also, Kiara’s with JJ, and Y/N wouldn’t even touch you with a 10 foot pole so.” Unkowing of the situation between you and Rafe.

Looking back at it now, Rafe’s coy response of “we’ll see” suddenly made much more sense to her as she shuddered slightly in disgust. 

“Can’t we take a night off? I mean don’t you guys think we’ve been going a little extra hard recently?” Pope tried to reason as you swam back up towards the boat, forcing yourself on board again. 

“I’ll be there.” You interjected as the water ran down your body, soaking the deck of the hms. 

“we all will be.” JJ fired back, a confusing swirl of concern and anger towards your attitude fought for dominance within his head. 

You ignored him once more and lay back on the sodden deck, letting your persistant introspection rest as the blanket that was intoxication comforted you. You looked up at the clouds and the weighlessness returned. Before you knew it, he sounds of Pope and Sarah chatting drifted away with the soft waves that carried the boat. You lost grip on consciousness as the sun lulled you to sleep.

Around half an hour went by before JJ spoke up. “hey" he double checked you were definitely asleep.

He took your silence as confirmation before turning to the other two. “Y'all saw that right?”

“Saw what?” Sarah played dumb even though he she knew exactly what he was referring to.

“the way she was acting” He whisper shouted, confused as to why no one else seemed remotely worried. “It was like she hated us.” He spoke with the tone of a wounded man.

“Yeah… us.” Pope muttered under his breath.

“I think she’s just tired J, she uh- she had a long night.” Sarah stiffled what had been something between a laugh and a groan.

“Nah guys look- I know her, that wasn’t normal.” JJ didn’t ease up.

“We all know her.” Pope jumped on the defensive.

“c’mon dude it’s not just me, somethings obviously wrong”

At this point Sarah wished for anything to distract him, because as much as JJ wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed when it came to academic performance, he most certainly wasn’t dumb. And he definitely knew what he was talking about when it came to you.

“Maybe It’s.. you know..” Pope waggled his eyebrows. “Her time…” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck “of- of the month?”

“Nice Pope.” Sarah rolled her eyes.

“’s not that. Guys look listen to me somethings definitely wr-“ the ringing of his phone interrupted JJ mid sentence. Saved by the bell. Literally.

JJ grabbed his phone and his frown eased up slightly as he looked at the caller ID.

“Hey baby” his tone made it seem like whatever he had been worrying about softened it’s grip on him at the sound of her voice. “Uh huh, okay give us ten and we’ll be there.” He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.

“Kie?” Sarah asked, praying he wouldn’t resume his ramble.

“Yeah she’s finished up at the wreck, wants us to go get her.” And with that the subject was dropped.

—————————————————————————

The late afternoon breeze stroked you awake as you suddenly became aware of the voices around you.

Your eyes fluttered open and you stirred where you lay, your body stiff from the 4 hour positioning against the hard wood of the hms. You slowly sat yourself up and threw your T-shirt back on your body before turning back to glance at the now complete group of pogues. Fuck how long had you been out for.

You let your eyes linger on Kiara and JJ a couple of seconds longer than everybody else. He laughed carelessly pulling her tighter against his side. You groaned out quietly and reached for your phone, typing out that damned name.

To Rafe: Having a party and you didn’t invite me? I’m almost offended.

Almost instantly a reply came through.

Miss me already?

You rolled your eyes as he sent you another.

Figured Sarah would open her big mouth, better see you tonight ;)

“Morning Camper.” John B spoke up. You turned around to face him, every single one of them with their attention on you.

“Hey can you take me home?” You directed at no one in particular.

“You don’t wanna stay and hang out?” Kie asked, she wanted to reach you, connect with you.

“I just want to go home” You were irritated and your head hurt, you were certainly in no mood for any of this.

John B was next to try “C’mon man we haven’t all hung out like this in ag-“

“Fuck just take me home” You lashed out. “please” You added in an attempt to soften the blow.

Silence fell over the pogues as John B lifted himself up and steered the boat towards the direction of your house.

As you hopped down you muttered a joyless goodbye to everyone.

“Wait! I’ll walk you in.” JJ peeled himself away from Kiara and followed behind you, slightly speeding as you hadn’t bothered to stop and wait.

He walked beside you, waiting until you were both out of hearing distance from the others.

“why are you angry?” He spoke up.

“I’m not angry.” You tried to walk faster but a calloused hand stopped you.

“Stop. Just stop.” You heard the desperation in his voice as he turned you around to face him. “can you just talk to me? Look whatever I did to piss you off I’m sorry. You just- you were fine yesterday and now all of a sudden you hate us-“

“Stop JJ” You just wanted it to stop. The consequence of your actions pounding down on you with every word that left his mouth.

“Stop what?!” He couldn’t help but shake you.

“Talking! Stop talking!” You shoved him forcefully off of you.

“The hell's wrong with you?! dude I’m worried about you. Today’s just been so weird.” His fingers shoved themselves through his hair, a nervous habit of his.

The familiar lump in your throat began to form at the sight of your best friend.

“I’m tired J.” It wasn’t a lie, you really were fucking exhausted. You were tired of lying, tired of watching the boy you loved love someone else, tired of trudging through your life heartbroken.

“You’re lying.” He shook his head like a disappointed parent. “Why you lyin' to me?”

“JJ. I’m. Tired.” You screwed your eyes shut as your breathing began to quicken “I’m not lying I’m just-“

“Okay alright.”  His embrace cut you off. “I believe you.” He hated seeing you upset. Having known you practically his whole life, he also knew that nothing ever got resolved when you got like this, so he dropped the subject.

You almost broke down then and there, using everything you had in you to move your arms around him, hugging him back.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, the meaning behind your words far greater than he could realise.

“Hey it’s okay, we all have off days right?” He let go of you and gave you a small smile.

“Right.” Your remained court and quiet. 

“I’ll see you tonight. Go rest for a bit okay?”

You nodded and began to walk away before his voice stopped you once more.

“Yo” You turned to see that he had shoved his hands in pockets. “You’d tell me if something was wrong right?” He hated that he even had to ask.

“Mhm, course” You lied straight through your teeth before turning and walking away from him uninterrupted. You knew that as soon and as your bedroom door closed behind you, you’d sink down into a pit of despair and loathing.

Whilst the resolution had given him a little comfort, something deep inside told him that this wasn’t the end of it.

Perhaps he should have left things alone, maybe then things wouldn’t have escalated to extent that they were about to.

So as he watched you walk away, JJ stood there unknowing of what was to come. Unknowing of the way things were about to change between you forever.

[bloodbluepearl]

i feel like people don't talk about the impactfulness of swansea immediately ditching his sobriety when he found out that the mouthwash had an alcohol content.

from the very beginning, he was accepting the idea of not getting out of the situation alive.

it takes a strong man to commit to sobriety, especially after 13 years of (presumably) heavy alcoholism, and an even stronger one to remain sober for 15 years, though he hadn't done it for his own enjoyment- that thought of him dead in some ditch somewhere because of some accident or another made while he was drunk out of his mind scared him into it, and pushed him to his decision. he enjoyed his time while drunk, but he knew that he wouldn't make it anywhere in his life and he knew that his time was running out (in many ways: he was getting older, so he would have less of his life left to steer himself in the right direction, and also the amount of alcohol he was drinking could kill him any day at that point, especially as he got older), so he put in the effort to try and 'better' himself- clean himself up, get everything he thinks 'successful' and 'happy' people have, and get sober.

of course, this doesn't make him a happier person, as much as he felt like it should. that was the entire point of his speech before his death- everything he worked for was a lot less exciting when he finally achieved it. but he stayed sober, because he knew that, in a more objective sense, outside of any of his own personal feelings about himself and his life and what he actually enjoyed, he was better off that way. he had more opportunities in life, he could keep a job, and he could maintain his relationships with his wife and kids much better than he could if he was still an alcoholic.

but when the ship crashed, he accepted that it was likely his final resting place, probably from the very beginning. he'd already had his shot at life, he already tried his best to be a model 'functioning member of society', and it was every bit as unfulfilling as it possibly could be. and now he was reaching his mid-life, or even late life. there wasn't much time left for him to be able to try and work toward an invisible goal of 'true happiness', whatever the hell that means. the way he saw it, he'd already lived his whole life. nothing more for him to do.

so when he found out that there was alcohol in the mouthwash, he barely hesitated a second. he drank it because THOSE were the best days of his life. he no longer worried about what kinds of consequences that such a relapse could cause, because at that point it didn't matter. he didn't care about continuing to live his 'model' life because that ship was his grave. he didn't have to worry about how it'd affect the relationship he had with his family, he didn't have to worry about being unable to get a job because he couldn't go half a day without drinking, he didn't have to worry about turning up dead in a ditch because of some mistake caused by his inebriation- it didn't matter in the end. the six months of food supply would run out far before the alcohol could kill him.

he did not for a second consider the possibility of him escaping the ship, even though he was the only person (for the majority of the game) that knew about the working cryo pod. it was never for him- he saw it as being a waste if he got in himself.

he'd already run his course. he would rather save it for someone with more potential to get somewhere in life, someone like daisuke or anya.

[thekitsunesiren]

Dc x Dp #42

Danny raising both de-aged Dan and Dani in Gotham and a small apartment. Everything seemed to be fine for the most part. Though he was tired of how many different jobs he had to keep taking because of all the rogues running around and trashing the place. He came home and complained everytime about the stupid rogues that was causing trouble. The latest was the Joker with his bombs blowing up the coffee shop he worked at.

He complained as he made his way into the kitchen to prepare dinner, missing the look that was shared between Dani and Dan.

Because while they were physically regressed to the ages of toddlers, their powers still stayed intact. Of course, the most Danny had to deal with was the two occasionally floated when they were sleepy or excited. Which he could handle. He didn't know how much the two were holding back in his presence to appear on their best behavior.

Which lead to Red Hood standing over said toddlers in the middle of the night. Dan holding a bloodied Joker by his hair. And by the faint trail of blood behind him, they were obviously dragging him somewhere.

Now, he's dealt with kids with superpowers before, but he didn't think he would have to deal with literal babies.

"So, what do you kids got there?" He asked, voice inquisitive yet static-like due to the voice modulator in his mask.

"We got a bad clown!" The girl chirped, blue eyes piercing with a proudness that no toddler should have about beating up someone. Though, he'll give it to her, he was a bad clown.

"And why do you have the bad clown?" He asked, ignoring the pained groan said clown let out that was muffled due to him being face down on the concrete. Hearing the sound, the young boy that had him lifted his head and slammed it down on the ground with a strength that startled Jason for a moment. His hand reflectively going for one of his pistols before settling.

Well, that answered the question of whether or not the kids did it themselves. Sparing a glance between two, he noticed the boy was a bit more roughed up

"He upset mama." The boy answered plainly, frowning as if upsetting his mother was the most unforgivable thing there was. Though, what kid didn't think that way? "He made mama job go boom!" She said, spreading her arms in an exaggerated manner to imitate an explosion.

Ah, Jason did remember Joker did blow up a few buildings the other day. He guessed their mother was working at one of them. Did that mean that she was a meta on the run, a civilian with two meta children, or some sick handler of child soldiers?

"Well, we better bring him to mama, shouldn't we? Bet she'd be really surprised to see what you two did." He offered, curious to see their reactions.

Both children suddenly looked up at him with matching blue eyes that sparkled with excitement. Probably because he wasn't going to stop them from what they were doing.

"Let's go see mama!" The young girl cheered, the boy giving a nod in affirmative before the two began walking down in a direction that was no doubt their home. The boys grip on the Joker's hair unfaltering as he continued to drag him through the pavement.

Jason followed the strange group, hands nestled in his pockets as he couldn't wait to see the reaction of their mother when the group returned home.

[littlelovelunette]

Hello!!! I love your work, I was wondering if you could do Sevika x Reader but sevika gets jealous, not possessive or sexy jealous like GENUINELY jealous and she doesn't know what to do about it, it's a rare feeling like she isn't control of the situation becuse she sees reader being genuinely happy and a lil bit too excited to see idk maybe grayson or somebody who's kind of sevika level amazing, maybe more?

Only if you'd like though!

Not In Control

Jealous!Sevika x Reader

Sevika wasn’t the kind of person to get rattled. She was solid, unshaken even in the worst of fights, a force of nature with a cigarette between her lips and shimmer in her veins.

She knew how to handle people—how to read them, manipulate them, and if necessary, crush them underfoot.

But this? This was something else entirely.

You had been talking to Grayson for the past ten minutes, and Sevika could count on one hand the number of times she had seen you this animated.

You weren’t just smiling—you were beaming.

Your eyes were alight with something rare, something Sevika usually only saw when you were with her after a long day, rambling about some stupid joke you heard or teasing her just to get a reaction.

But now, all of that attention—your enthusiasm, your warmth, your happiness—was directed at Grayson.

And Sevika hated it.

Not because she thought you’d leave her. Not because she thought Grayson was trying to take you from her. No, it was worse than that.

Sevika hated it because for the first time in a long time, she felt small.

The feeling curled inside her gut, ugly and unfamiliar. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, trying to appear casual, but her grip on her bicep was a little too tight.

She wasn’t used to this. She was used to being the one people looked up to, the one people noticed.

But right now? Right now, she felt like a shadow, watching from the sidelines while you looked at someone else the way you used to look at her.

And it wasn’t sexy jealousy either—the kind that came with a smirk and a possessive hand on your waist.

This was raw, twisted in her ribs like a knife.

She had no control over it.

Grayson said something, and you laughed—not a polite laugh, not the kind you gave when someone made a half-decent joke.

This was full-bodied, genuine, the kind of laugh that made your eyes crinkle at the edges.

Sevika felt something inside her chest tighten.

She needed to leave. Leave before she lost her shit.

But she didn’t.

She just stood there, silent and still, jaw clenched so hard it ached.

You turned then, catching sight of her, and that damn smile was still on your lips. “Sevika!” You waved her over, oblivious to the storm raging inside her.

She hesitated. A beat too long.

Then, forcing her body into motion, she pushed off the wall and walked over, slow and deliberate, as if she hadn’t just been standing there drowning in something she didn’t understand.

Grayson nodded at her, ever the picture of calm authority. “Sevika.”

“Grayson,” she greeted, voice even. Too even.

You, meanwhile, were practically buzzing, still caught in whatever conversation you’d been having. “Did you know Grayson used to—”

“I know,” Sevika interrupted, sharper than she meant to.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden edge in her voice. Grayson raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

And Sevika hated that too. Hated that Grayson probably knew exactly what was happening.

Hated that she didn’t.

“Anyway,” Grayson said smoothly, clearly picking up on the tension, “I should get going. It was good catching up.”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah! You too.”

Sevika didn’t watch Grayson leave. She was too busy watching you, studying the way your face still held that same brightness, the way you still looked so damn happy.

She didn’t know what to do with it.

You turned back to her. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” It came out too fast. Too clipped.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the shift in her. “You sure?”

“Fine.”

That clearly wasn’t enough for you. You stepped closer, studying her face, and Sevika had to fight the instinct to look away.

“What’s wrong?”

Nothing. Everything.

She didn’t know how to answer that.

So she just shrugged, rolling her shoulders like the tension there wasn’t enough to snap steel. “Nothing.”

You didn’t buy it.

She knew you didn’t buy it.

But you didn’t push. Instead, you just tilted your head, watching her like you were piecing something together. And then—so casually, so effortlessly—you reached out and took her hand.

Her fingers twitched, startled by the sudden warmth.

“You wanna get out of here?” you asked, voice softer now, like you knew she needed an escape but wasn’t quite ready to talk about it.

And for once, Sevika wasn’t in control. She just nodded, letting you lead her away from whatever the hell had just happened.

Maybe later, she’d figure it out.

But for now, she just held onto your hand a little tighter.