#Like I am DANGEROUSLY in the red and I have a full time job. That should not be a thing. It's frickin crazy

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Everyone wish me good luck I have a big Very Important interview today

[crowandagger]

My Love Is Between My Teeth

Summary: What kind and where the lads boys like to give you hickeys...

Pairing(s): Sylus, Caleb, Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel x reader (all seperate)

A/N: It has been a good while since I have written anything substantial, but it feels good to be back tbh. This is my first time writing for Love And Deepspace, but given how I am enjoying the game so far, I hope there'll be plenty more to come!

Warnings: some spicyness if you squint, some possessiveness (esp from sylus),

Sylus: If given half the chance, he'll litter your entire torso with increasingly dark hickeys, so that no matter what type of clothing you intend to wear in the morning, some of them will always be visible. And don't you dare try to hide them, he wants to make sure everyone who looks your way knows without a shadow of a doubt that you're taken.

Caleb: He loves nibbling at you, playfully nipping at the sensitive skin of your throat and just under your ears. His hickeys often end up more as red little love bites on your neck when he's in bed with you. He spent so long away from you and now that he finally has you in his arms he both desperately wants to make up for lost time and also make sure he will never lose you again.

Zayne: Adores marking you up, yet he always seems to hold back with just how dark he wants to make them. Often sticking to love bites that hover on the line of being a full on hickey with his favourite areas being your collarbones and just on the underside of your chest. With your job as a Deepspace Hunter being as dangerous as it is, he wants to be able to clearly differentiate between the marks he put on you and the injuries you inevitably end up with while fighting wanderers.

Xavier: Depending on the mood Xavier is in he either likes to litter your entire torso with little love bites that'll have almost completely faded by the time you wake up again, or he wants to mark every inch of your neck, throat and shoulders with deep coloured hickeys and there is very little in between. Most of the time he can hardly believe that you are his and his alone and he'll let you know this when he marks you up with something that is almost akin to reverence, yet when he thinks he has cause to be jealous, that reverence will melt into a simmering possessiveness that is best not disturbed in the moment.

Rafayel: Approaches giving you hickeys with the same amount of thought as he does his paintings. Thoughtfully and deliberate. Which sometimes means he can take hours just marking you up, tasting you on his tongue and feel your skin between his teeth as he draws marks on your body and whines and whimpers from your lips. Sometimes he'll deliberately slow his pace, just to see how long it'll take you to start begging him to hurry up and give you exactly what you want.

[changeling-droneco]

Hi I'm that person who made the original post about "no doesn mean no" when a small bit of the mr beast company document was leaked, well, now we have the full document (thanks rosanna) so I'm going to go over it. Please note I am not a lawyer or a business man, I'm in college for psychology, so I might misunderstand some things or make the wrong conclusion. However, if this is a document made for the average mr. beast employee, if I cannot understand it properly, then im sure some employees also struggled

First of all, the opening paragraph. Like I get it's supposed to be like, to put people at ease, but

This is so strange? Like, first of all, this is your EMPLOYEE MANUAL, you should have run it through like, a spell check? Or had someone edit it? This is already incredibly unprofessional. Also the promising of a thousand dollars if you pass a quiz on it? It's bizarre and I'd love to see if it's an actual quiz.

Jimmy, hun, please god get an editor for this you're already trying my patience.

YOU SHOULD, you genuinely should, while interconnected these are all COMPLETELY different jobs, if you think you could write a separate manual for each branch you SHOULD

I'm sure I'm about to get an answer but what the fuck is the best YOUTUBE video then? If it's not comedy, its not production, its not quality, its not look, then what the hell is left? (monetization, it's monetization)

First of all, Jimmy, why are you using internet lingo in this, it's not a text message, this is not a place for, idc, and lol, and not capitalizing your headers correctly??? Also like I said, he's chasing trends for monetization, and also he's just wrong, there are plenty of hollywood level shows and the like on youtube. You fully admit you do not care about trends and actively rush things?

This is just fucked??? Like of COURSE IT MATTERS??? Results based company is bullshit, your employees that worked for five weeks and failed aren't "lesser" then James, it's a structural failure! They still worked for HOURS to try and succeed?? That shows merit and loyalty??? What the fuck???

Rosanna covers this one in her video but it's worth restating that this is FUCKED??? It's clear overwork "your job is your family" culture. Especially the use of the word obsessive? If you do not OBSESS over your work, you are considered poisonous. NO WONDER we have so many reports of employees doing things they feel is dangerous or unsafe, if they don't they're considered POISON to the company.

The formatting in this doc continues to fucking kill me, what are you DOING man GET AN EDITOR

This feels like such an easy fix of just...make the thumbnail after the fact? Or only make a rough draft of one first? Like if production makes a red bouncy castle instead of a yellow one, that feels like an easy fix to the thumbnail OR a communication error, and again, that's on management

A lot of the next stuff is like analytics stuff that for the most part I can't really speak on as someone who does not do any of this stuff. There are a few things though

Which like???? what??? a lull??? what do you mean "watching a video without even realizing they are watching a video??" That doesn't scream good or even mediocre content to me. If I'm actively tuning out as I watch a video, that's bad. Especially because there have been plenty of times I've been like half way through a video i go "hey this sucks actually" and click off. They actively want their audience to not be paying attention to the video so it runs all the way through, that's kinda pathetic.

I don't actually know if this is common or not in this industry, but as an outsider this seems INCREDIBLY micromanaging to me, to an immense degree.

Jimmy why are you putting swears in your employee manual?? sir??? and also something about this whole thing icks me out, I don't quite have the words but the whole emphasis on "im different im special no one else can be me" just reeks of something kind of manipulative

Why is production changing so much Jimmy??? Infinite growth is the mindset of a cancer cell Jimmy! This is incredibly unstable working conditions! Also again with the word obsession, if you take time out of your own day on your own time to watch hulu, that's seen as not being obsessed enough for the company. This is nonsensical!

Again, this is INSANELY micromanaging, and also so fucking unhinged??? "God himself couldn't stop you from making this video on time" is NOT a healthy work mindset, things HAPPEN!!!

In this segment he's actually talking normal things but I did just want to highlight his use of "freaken" who the hell puts that in an EMPLOYEE MANUEL

Again with the micromanaging, and the immense pressure on employees for problems OTHER people do. While he's not fully wrong that you should be in more contact with the contractor then the example, this is too much in the other direction. How much time in the day does he think people have?!

My kingdom for a fucking paragraph break dude, my fucking eyes. Also this is a lot of "im so great and do everything and you should do more for me and if i dont know something that's your fault" for something titled "I am not always right"

I'm getting lazy with my highlighting, but again, the micromanaging? If you're SOOO busy, the first question should be the ideal? it's quick and makes a quick decision, while the second one meanders and meanders

Again, Jimmy is pushing blame for HIS mistakes on OTHER PEOPLE. For again, a section called "i am not always right" hes taking NO accountability for that and just making the SAME excuses he's berating in other places.

I can't even tell what he means here AN EDITOR JIMMY

Autism Hell tm, PLEASE email me so I can DOUBLE CHECK IT, things in writing are SO useful

Again the language towards "C-Players" which as mr beast has said, are the people who y'know, are NORMAL employees who DON'T live and breathe this company

Okay first of all, a Lamborghini is like 300k so that's already A REALLY hard task, and i sure hope don't usually put typos in the tasks. SECOND of all the fact he thinks its okay to go "hey if the studio is literally on fire around you and you stop working to get the Lamborghini, you're not doing good enough" even if he claims it as a joke is NOT OKAY what the FUCK

We've covered this before, but to reiterate this segment is named after a sexual assault reference when it could have been named ANYTHING ELSE and harasses employees and pressures them to break rules, don't do that.

I'm not an editor, so maybe this is normal, but as someone from the outside it seems strange to put this much emphasis on dividing focus between so many videos at once.

Jimmy, hun, are you paying extra for this? Because if I'm an editor and you want me FILMING stuff then i want to be paid more for doing TWO jobs and I probably still wont be as skilled a TRAINED CAMERA MAN

First of all now THAT'S a type, consteatants. Also the fact they are aware that leaving contestants out in the sun is bad, why are you not doing MORE TO STOP IT BEYOND "hey maybe giving them three hours of heatstroke is bad, try only two next time"

Don't we love favoritism, more shitty unprofessional writings, and a completely unstable work environment?

If your people have to pull all nighters period something is wrong, and if something happens to an employees car that could have seriously hurt someone, i sure hope you care more then just "LOL FUNNY" Who's picking up the broken glass? Who's reimbursing the car owner? That one meme of "your first care should be commitment to the bit" is a MEME jimmy, it's not ACTUAL ADVICE

Ah shit I hit image limit, well, you've seen enough screenshots to know these are screenshots, we're almost done I'll put them in as quotes

"Let’s say you are tasked with finding us a castle to live in for 50 hours and while doing research you find a castle and a number to call for the owner. So you do call, and he answers. Only problem is he says he quit the castle renting business to pursue his dream of building a 100 foot tall lego catapult. You can obviously tell where i’m going with this. Ideally you’d recognize that’s badass as fuck and try to convince him to let us use it when we do find a castle. This is a bad example because it’s so obvious but if you’re doing your job right you will be doing an absurd amounts of calls and data collecting. While trying to complete your prios and prepare for the video you should always be on the lookout for new things you can bring to your creative team to inspire them. Because just like me, they don’t know what they don’t know and you can’t just say “i’m in production and i’m not very creative” because that’s literally the equivalent of saying I suck at what I do. You also need to apply this same mindset when problem solving because many people lose sight of this stuff when in the weeds. If a problem appears, always always always ask yourself if your new plan is whats best for creative, not just the easiest bandaid."

First of all it's really funny seeing all the red lines pop up, second of all this insistent blurring of everyone's job seems so strange? Again maybe this is normal, but it really feels like Jimmy wants everyone working every job, instead on focusing on what they are actually hired to do.

"What is the goal of our content?

To excite me. The goal of our content is to excite me. That may sound weird to some of you, especially if you’re new but to me it’s what’s most important. If I'm not excited to get in front of that camera and film the video, it’s just simply not going to happen."

That's fucking weirddddd, like I get that he's trying to be like "im authentic" but it always feels like a bad sign when the goal of a company is literally just "What amuses the boss" like...bad sign

"this is youtube and there are constraints. You know the video can’t be a minute so you’re obviously going to need a story to hold the viewers and there are rules to storytelling. Our audience is massive and because of that you have to be simple, for 50 million people to understand something it must be simple. Content can be anything but there is structure and rules that we must mold it into that I want to teach you about, because virality doesn’t just happen. Every frame of our videos will be seen by 10s of millions of people"

Gross

"I'd say the average MrBeast viewer is a teenage memer that likes video games."

Mr Beast is completely aware of his demographic and puts screen shots of it, he is very aware his stuff is aimed at kids, even when its about gambling or hiring people not around near minors

"I feel silly for having to write this but all the time I talk to 32 new people that have at most seen like 5 or 6 of our videos and it’s mind blowing that they don’t see a problem with that lol."

It's almost like your audience is teenage memer and that people who working here are not in fact, teenage memers.

"What you consume on social media, when you watch youtube, tv, the games you play, etc. are what I like to call your information diet.

How do you stay up to date on the latest memes? How do you know what’s going on with celebrities? What’s trending on youtube? What other creators are doing? What’s popping on tik tok? Your information diet. Consume things on a daily basis that help you write better content."

If my job as a creative writer had my boss tell me to have to see whats "popping on tik tok" as part of my job i'd quit also again, the micromanaging of someone's life as well pops up again, it's weirddd

"It’s okay for the boys to be childish

If talent wants to draw a dick on the white board in the video or do something stupid, let them. (assuming they know all the risks and arn’t missing context on why it’s not safe) People like when we are in our natural element of stupidity. Really do everything you can to empower the boys when filming and help them make content. Help them be idiots"

More favoritism

"If you’ve made it this far you are probably at least semi interested in this being your career. So I wanted to chat about it. Because if you're ambitious and want to dedicate your life to work, you picked the best company in America to do it at. I really don’t care to hoard a bunch of money and I deeply believe in rewarding the people that help this business get where it needs to be. But before I get into that, let’s talk about the future. As I write this we have 2 teams, that will grow to 4 in the next year. (and possibly 8 in the next 2 years but I can’t talk about that cause james will kill me haha). We need more leaders in the company. Weneed hard working, obsessive, coachable, intelligent, grinders that can step up and take some of these leadership spots over the next 2 years. Every single department has an opportunity for you to grow in and you’re in luck because we don’t do yearly reviews. We do whenever the fuck you want reviewes"

Lack of communication from management, and more emphasis on grinding and crunch culture, goodie, all while riddled with typos! God.

"I see a world where this company is worth billions and one day 10s of billions. And those of you that help build this will be rewarded. I want nothing more then for you to go all in, obsessive all day everyday, and become so god dam valuable this company can’t operate without you. And in return for becoming so valuable I hope to give you incredible experiences, a fun place to work, and of course, more money then you could ever dream of making at any other company."

I feel like I'm reading a fucking pyramid scheme document here, "youre so so valuable spend literally every minute of every day on this company haha" good GOD man

[holyblonded]

tutors from hell | something blue

pairings: barcelona femeni x teen!reader

summary: azulita is slacking in the education department and the team decides to help

notes: this was requested and unfortunately i lost the request but i am so happy it was omg 😭

“For such a smart person, you are acting so dumb right now,” Olga snapped, pacing back and forth like she was trying to wear a hole in the carpet. Her hands were flailing, hair slightly frizzy from how many times she’d pushed it back in frustration. You sat in the chair across from her, arms crossed, expression unreadable… at least until you threw your head back with a sigh.

“This is so dramatic,” you muttered, just loud enough.

Alexia winced from the corner of the counselor’s office, like she’d just seen a red card about to be raised. She pressed her fist to her mouth, trying not to say anything. The counselor, bless her soul, had already peaced out ten minutes ago, sensing the storm brewing and deciding that this was very much a family problem.

“You’re this close to getting benched,” Olga warned, pinching her fingers together. “You think it’s a joke? You think any of this is a joke?”

“I already have a job,” you shrugged, like you weren’t actively poking the bear. “A full-time job. School is the thing that’s optional.”

Alexia let out a low, horrified groan like she could already hear the explosion coming.

“Oh, you are so right,” Olga said, her voice going calm in a way that meant danger. “If you think school is optional, then let’s make football optional too. If your grades aren’t up by the end of the week, no more football. No training, no matches, nothing.”

Silence.

You stared at her. Alexia stared at her. The silence stretched into disbelief.

Alexia was the first to break. “Mi amor, let’s talk about this! We play Madrid on Saturday! She’s been holding the back line like a champ! You want me to play center-back? I’m going to snap like a breadstick!”

“Then I guess she should’ve thought about that before deciding to tank her education like an absolute lunatic,” Olga said, pointing straight at you. “D’s? Straight D’s, Azulita? D’s?”

You muttered something about the system being rigged, which only made it worse.

Alexia made a panicked gesture like she was conducting an orchestra. “Wait, wait, wait, just—let’s not threaten suspension! Maybe a compromise. Like…no boots until homework’s done. Or she has to write a three-page essay on defensive formations to practice. Or—or—”

“No.” Olga’s tone was final. “End of the week. Passing grades or she doesn’t step onto a pitch.”

Then she walked out.

You and Alexia both sat frozen for a moment, then turned and looked at each other in slow motion.

“We’re dead,” Alexia whispered.

You nodded. “She’s actually gonna do it.”

Alexia stood up like she was preparing to sprint the 100m. “Come on, car, now. Recovery session in ten and we are not being late, especially not today, especially not looking guilty.”

You scrambled after her, backpack half-zipped and bouncing.

In the car, Alexia had her head against the steering wheel before she even started the engine. “Okay. Okay. This is fine. We can fix this.”

You snorted. “I mean…we probably can’t.”

“No! No, no. You are going to get your grades up. I am not letting you get benched before Madrid. You know what? I’m calling Frido. She likes math. I bet she’ll make you a study plan.”

“She’s scary when she’s serious,” you mumbled.

Alexia turned to look at you. “And you need someone scary right now. Aitana will do history. Maybe we bribe Patri with snacks for science.”

“What about English?”

Alexia paused. “…You’re on your own with that one.”

You groaned, slumping down in your seat as the car pulled out of the school lot.

“Start mentally preparing,” Alexia added. “You’re about to have three teammates dragging you through academic bootcamp. You don’t pass, you don’t play. And if you don’t play, Olga’s going to revoke your football privileges and I’m going to have to explain to Pere why our defensive line collapsed. I can’t live like that, Azulita.”

You stared out the window, quietly panicking. But somewhere underneath the panic was a flicker of something else, reluctant amusement. If nothing else, you had to admit, this team really didn’t let you fall. Even if it meant turning into your personal homework army.

The gym doors burst open with a loud clang, and everyone inside turned just in time to see you and Alexia practically trip over each other. You were both slightly out of breath, bags bouncing off your backs, faces flushed with panic and urgency.

Sydney raised an eyebrow from where she was stretching. “Y’all good?”

“No,” Alexia said immediately, grabbing your wrist and dragging you forward like she was offering you as tribute. “No, she is not good. Tell them what you did.”

You blinked. “Why do I have to—”

“Tell. Them.”

The room went quiet as your teammates gathered around, sensing drama like sharks sniffing blood. Vicky stopped juggling a ball. Ingrid paused mid squat. Even Pere, leaning against the far wall with his clipboard, looked over with curiosity.

You shoved your hands into your hoodie pocket and mumbled, “I’m failing all my classes.”

An audible groan rippled through the room like a wave. Aitana literally flopped backwards onto a mat and threw an arm over her face like she’d just been hit by a car.

“Oh, come on, Azulita! We’ve talked about this!” she started, already in full rant mode. “Education is fundamental to personal growth, and statistically—”

“I’m not done,” you interrupted, deadpan. “Olga said if I don’t have passing grades by the end of the week, I’m benched.”

Dead silence. Someone dropped their resistance band.

“She’s gonna kill you!” Jana yelped.

“You’re doomed!” Ona added.

“She’s actually gonna do it, too,” Vicky muttered, horrified. “She benched me once for not eating a vegetable for three days.”

Alexia held up her hands, trying to calm the chaos. “Okay! Okay! Let’s not panic.”

“You were the one sprinting into the gym like a horror movie victim,” Ingrid said.

“I was panicking internally, Ingrid. There’s a difference.”

Fridolina crossed her arms. “So what’s the plan? Or are we all just going to sit around and let her get benched before the Madrid match?”

“I cannot defend without her,” Ona said immediately. “No offense, Jana.”

“None taken,” Jana replied.

Aitana sat up, rubbing her temple. “Fine. I’ll help her with history. Again.”

Frido stepped forward. “Math is mine.”

“Wait, wait,” Pina said, turning toward the weight racks. “Patri! Get over here! You’re doing science.”

Patri was mid-bicep curl, headphones still in. “What?”

“You’re tutoring Azulita in science.”

“No I’m not.”

“You are now!”

Patri sighed the sigh of someone who regretted every decision that led her here.

Ingrid cleared her throat. “I’ll help with English. She’s writing an essay, right?”

“Trying to write an essay,” Alexia corrected.

You held up your hands, overwhelmed. “Okay! Whoa! Everyone calm down.”

“No,” said Aitana, pointing at you like you were a criminal. “You don’t get calm. You get studious.”

Pere walked over, flipping his clipboard around and looking amused. “Well, in light of the collective meltdown, I’m shortening training for the week. Azulita, consider this an intervention-slash-academic bootcamp. The rest of you, don’t let her fail.”

“Teamwork,” Alexia said solemnly.

“Dreamwork,” Sydney added, patting your shoulder like she was prepping you for war.

You groaned and pulled your hoodie over your head. “This is so humiliating.”

“No, this is love,” Frido said, pulling out her glasses like she was about to run a TED talk. “Aggressive, slightly terrifying love.”

And so began the most chaotic tutoring schedule ever created, powered entirely by panic, guilt, and pure Barça girl drama.

Frido had commandeered one of the smaller tactical briefing rooms in the facility for your “academic rehabilitation,” as she called it. She had her hair up in a bun, glasses perched on her nose, and a whiteboard already filled with lines of numbers and equations by the time you shuffled in, dragging your backpack like a bag of bricks.

She turned to face you, marker still in hand, and gave you a tight nod. “You’re two minutes late.”

“We just finished recovery,” you mumbled, slumping into a chair. “I had to fight for the last protein shake.”

“No excuses,” she said, pointing at her self-made schedule taped on the wall with big, aggressive bullet points like “DERIVATIVES = SURVIVAL.” “We only have an hour, and we’re not wasting time.”

You groaned dramatically. “This feels illegal.”

She handed you a thick stack of worksheets. “Calculus. We start here.”

You blinked. “We’re starting with Calculus?! Shouldn’t we, like, build up to it?”

She sat down, glanced at the top sheet, and paused. “Wait a second… this is AP Calculus.”

“Yeah?” you shrugged. “I was in honors before all the truancy.”

She gave you a flat stare. “You’re doing Calculus? Like, actual Calculus?”

You gave her a look. “Frido. I’ve been smart this whole time. I’m just selective with what I care about.”

She shook her head slowly, muttering, “Wow. You’re actually smart.”

“Actually?! What the hell, Frido!”

“I’m just saying! You come off very…” she waved vaguely, “…feral.”

You rolled your eyes. “So do you!”

She smiled. “Fair.”

The session started off okay. She went full professor mode, standing in front of the whiteboard and writing down a series of derivative rules. Her accent made it sound cooler than it should’ve been.

“This,” she said, underlining with dramatic flair, “is the power rule. You’ll need it for every problem in this set. Now, what is the derivative of x to the fourth?”

You squinted. “Uhh… 4x cubed?”

She looked genuinely delighted. “YES! See? I knew you had it in you.”

You grinned and leaned back in your chair a bit, feeling good about yourself. Unfortunately, that moment of comfort was your downfall.

Thirty minutes later, she was halfway through explaining implicit differentiation when she turned around to check your work—only to find you completely slouched in your chair, eyes fluttering shut, head bobbing like a baby goat.

“Azulita,” she said sharply.

You jerked awake. “Huh? Yes? Derivatives?”

Fridolina narrowed her eyes. “Stand up.”

“What? Why?”

“Because if you sit, you sleep. Up.”

Groaning, you stood, grumbling under your breath. “This is abuse. I’m telling Alexia.”

“She’s the one who begged me to help you,” Frido said, grabbing her marker again. “Now. Chain rule.”

You stood awkwardly near the whiteboard, trying to keep your eyes open. Frido kept writing and lecturing, but your eyelids were traitorous. One second you were watching her explain u-substitution, the next your chin was resting on your chest.

“Are you falling asleep standing up?” she said, genuinely offended.

“I have low iron!” you cried, jolting awake.

She walked over and handed you a protein bar. “Eat this. And march in place.”

You stared at her. “Fridolina.”

“March.”

So there you were, chewing a protein bar, knees lifting like a sad little soldier, trying not to pass out while Colonel Frido ran the most intense Calculus bootcamp in the entire European football circuit.

“Can I at least sit for integrals?” you begged.

She thought about it. “Only if you can explain what an antiderivative is without blinking.”

You blinked.

She pointed to the floor. “Keep marching.”

By the end of the hour, you were sweaty, slightly smarter, and deeply traumatized. Frido patted your shoulder. “You did good. We’ll go again tomorrow.”

You stared at her, dead inside. “What if I just accept benching?”

She laughed and pushed you out the door. “Not happening. Go get Aitana. It’s history time.”

You groaned, dragging your feet. “Can’t wait to cry over kings and queens.”

Aitana was ready before you even walked in. She’d chosen a meeting room next to the physio suite, claiming the vibes were “conducive to intellectual flow.” There was a whiteboard, a projector (which she did not know how to use), and most alarmingly, a stack of her own handwritten notes with highlighters color-coded like a textbook on steroids.

“Sit,” she said, not looking up from her packet. “We are beginning with the Catholic Monarchs.”

You blinked. “The what?”

“The Catholic Monarchs. Isabel and Fernando. Los Reyes Católicos. Spain’s unification. Come on, Azulita, this is basic stuff!”

“Yeah, basic for you,” you muttered, slumping into the chair.

She was already pacing. “So, 1469, Isabel of Castile marries Fernando of Aragon. Boom. Political union. Not total unification yet, but close. Then, they finish the Reconquista in 1492, Granada falls—and the same year, they finance Columbus. That’s the big year. It’s always 1492.”

You stared at her blankly, eyes slightly glazed over. “Why are there so many numbers already?”

She didn’t hear you. “Then you have the Alhambra Decree, expulsion of the Jews, and—are you writing this down?”

You glanced down at your notebook. It was open to a page that said “I’m hungry” in very neat block letters.

Aitana stopped. “Azulita. Focus.”

“I am focusing,” you said, even though you absolutely weren’t. “You just talk so fast. Like… I’m not catching a single thing. Not even fragments. I think you said something about bananas.”

She stared at you in disbelief. “Bananas? I said Granada! That’s a kingdom!”

“Okay, well, the way you said it sounded like fruit.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright. I’ll slow it down.”

She tried. She really did. She said the words slower, drew timelines, even mimed the marriage of Isabel and Fernando using two highlighters like Barbie dolls. But you were still staring at her like she was reciting an IKEA manual in Swedish. Eventually, she threw her hands up. “Why are you like this?!”

You blinked. “Because I’m American.”

Aitana growled something under her breath in Catalan, then paused like a light bulb went off in her head. “Okay. Fine. Football terms.”

You perked up. “Now we’re talking.”

She took a deep breath. “Isabel is the captain of Castile. She’s smart, she runs the midfield, very Alexia. Fernando is from Aragon, think like Patri. Strong, solid, a little less flashy but reliable. When they get married, it’s like… combining Barça and Madrid—not as rivals, but as a superteam.”

“Ooh, okay. Superteam.”

“Exactly. Together, they ‘win’ Spain. That’s their La Liga title. And Granada—not bananas—is the final match of the season. The final point needed to clinch the title.”

You nodded slowly. “And Columbus?”

“He’s like… the wildcard signing they bet on. Like when a club spends big money on a young player who ends up changing the game.”

You gasped. “So Columbus is like… Lamine?”

“Kind of, but more controversial and with colonization,” she said dryly. “It’s a metaphor.”

“Oh. Okay. Keep going.”

She was on fire now. “The Alhambra Decree? That’s the scandal after the championship. Like a PR disaster. A very bad press conference.”

You were nodding enthusiastically now, scribbling notes. “Expelled the Jews = red card?”

“YES! For the entire team!”

“Oh my god! Aitana, this makes so much sense now!”

She dropped her marker, exhausted. “I hate that this is what works for you.”

You grinned. “Admit it, you love teaching me.”

She sighed but smiled anyway. “You are the most frustrating academic experience of my life.”

“I’m honored.”

You both looked up as the door cracked open and Alexia popped her head in. “How’s it going in here?”

“She thought ‘Granada’ was fruit,” Aitana deadpanned.

Alexia nodded like that tracked. “Yup. That sounds right.”

“She’s learning now!” you said proudly, holding up your notebook. It now read:

“1492 = La Liga win. Isabel = Alexia. Fernando = Patri. Columbus = controversial signing. Granada ≠ fruit.”

Alexia laughed and left. Aitana rubbed her temples again. “Okay. Now we move to Carlos V.”

You raised your hand. “Is he also a football player?”

She sighed. “No, but… maybe we can say he’s like Erling Haaland.”

You snapped your fingers. “Say less.”

“God help me,” she muttered, turning back to the board.

Patri had been reluctant from the start.

“She doesn’t respect science,” she grumbled when Aitana cornered her at lunch and practically shoved a study packet into her hands.

“She doesn’t respect anything unless it’s shaped like a football,” Aitana replied. “But she’s smart, just lazy. Treat her like an annoying prodigy.”

So that’s how you found yourself sitting in a conference room with Patri Guijarro, a giant periodic table taped to the wall, three notebooks, two water bottles, and exactly zero interest.

To her credit, Patri tried to set the mood.

“We’re doing biology,” she said, with the energy of someone heading into war. “Specifically cell respiration and photosynthesis.”

You nodded solemnly. “Let’s get this bread.”

She stared at you. “Bread has carbs. Not relevant. Focus.”

Ona and Pina were already seated in the back like neutral witnesses. Pina had snacks. Ona had the patience of a monk.

“I needed backup,” Patri said, adjusting her marker. “In case I snap.”

“Snap from what?” you asked innocently.

Patri didn’t answer. She launched into the Krebs Cycle.

Everything went surprisingly well. She was clear, concise, writing big diagrams on the board, and for once, you were actually following.

Until she got to the second step and mixed up the order of ATP and NADH.

You raised your hand. “That’s backwards.”

She turned around, eyebrows lifting. “No it’s—” She paused. Looked at the board. Sighed. “Okay, maybe it is. Not the point.”

She corrected it. Two minutes later, she wrote “mitocondria” instead of “mitochondria.���

You raised your hand again. “There’s an H in that.”

“I know,” Patri said, eyes twitching.

“You forgot it.”

“I know.”

She fixed it.

Ona and Pina exchanged glances but said nothing.

Then, the final straw. You were halfway through photosynthesis when Patri cheerfully transitioned to the Calvin Cycle and said, “And that’s why, in the mitochondria, the Calvin Cycle takes place after glycolysis.”

You blinked. “Wait. That’s the Krebs Cycle. Calvin is in the chloroplast.”

Patri froze mid-marker stroke.

Ona instantly moved from her seat. “Okay. That’s enough.”

Pina stood and held onto Patri’s arm as the midfielder muttered, “I swear to God, I am going to put her in the fume hood and close the door.”

You leaned back smugly, arms crossed. “Just saying. Someone needs a refresher.”

Patri gave you a look that could curdle milk.

“She’s doing it on purpose,” she hissed to Pina.

“Probably,” Pina said, tossing you a gummy worm.

“You’re so annoying,” Patri snapped.

“You love me.”

“I barely tolerate you.”

“You were the one who volunteered to help.”

“I was blackmailed!”

The room descended into bickering until Ona clapped once and everyone went quiet. “Enough. Patri. Breathe. Azulita. Lock in.”

You sat up straighter, still grinning. “Okay, okay. I’m serious now.”

Patri grumbled something under her breath but went back to the board. “Alright. Where were we?”

You looked at the diagram. “You were about to redeem yourself after the most embarrassing biology lesson in history.”

“I will throw you out of this room.”

“No, you won’t.”

“You’re right,” she muttered. “Because I’m a professional.”

To your surprise, she actually managed to finish the lesson without any further interruptions. And you, to everyone’s shock, actually retained information. Enough to answer questions. Correctly. On the first try.

Patri stared at you at the end like you’d just shapeshifted.

“I told you I was smart,” you said smugly.

“You are the most insufferable intelligent person I’ve ever met.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Pina tossed you a second gummy worm in celebration.

“Okay,” Patri said, dropping her marker. “You’re done with science. Never speak to me again.”

You gave her a thumbs up. “Love you too, Professor Guijarro.”

As you left, Ona patted your shoulder. “That was impressive.”

Pina just muttered, “She’s chaos. But she’s our chaos.”

Ingrid had come prepared.

She entered the media room like a woman on a mission, armed with a copy of Macbeth, three highlighters, a thesaurus, a laptop, and a look that said I will not be defeated by a teenager who thinks Shakespeare is boring.

You were already seated with your hoodie pulled up, looking like you were preparing for battle, too. The difference was: Ingrid had a plan. You had a headache.

She dropped the book in front of you dramatically. “Let’s begin.”

You squinted at the title. “Do we have to?”

“Yes.”

“Do you even know what it’s about?” She nodded confidently. “Of course. It’s about ambition, power, guilt—”

“No, no, like… plot-wise. Like, who dies?”

“Lots of people. That’s not the point.”

“It’s kind of the point.”

Ingrid sighed and sat down beside you. “Alright. Let’s do a quick rundown before we write your essay.”

“Okay.”

She pulled out a sheet of paper and started asking questions.

“What’s Macbeth’s fatal flaw?”

“His name?”

She blinked. “What internal conflict does Lady Macbeth face?”

“Being married to Macbeth?”

“What does the ‘Out, damned spot’ scene symbolize?”

“A really bad laundry day?”

Ingrid stared at you. “Have you even read the book?”

You hesitated. “…Not exactly.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”

You shrugged. “I read the Wikipedia summary.”

Ingrid groaned, dragging her hand down her face. “Azulita, you have to read it.”

“I tried!” you said, dramatically slumping over the table. “But it’s all in Old English! Every time I read a line, I feel like I’m decoding a secret message from 1603. Why does everyone talk like they’re in a riddle?”

Ingrid tapped her fingers, clearly thinking.

“Alright,” she said finally. “Then we’re going to act it out.”

You sat up. “We what?”

She stood, already flipping the book open. “Come on. On your feet. I’ll be Macbeth. You’ll be Lady Macbeth. Or Banquo. I don’t care. We’re going full theatre kid now.”

“God help me,” you muttered, dragging yourself up.

Ingrid cleared her throat and began in a booming voice, “‘Is this a dagger which I see before me, the handle toward my hand?’”

You blinked. “Why are you yelling?”

“It’s theatre!” she snapped. “Commit to it!”

She handed you a prop dagger from the physio cart… okay, it was an ice roller, but still, and pointed at you. “React!”

You raised the ice roller. “Yes, my king, I… see the dagger too?”

She groaned. “No! You’re not supposed to see it!”

“Then why am I holding this thing?!”

“You’re Banquo now. Pretend to be suspicious.”

You arched an eyebrow dramatically. “Sir, why are you talking to thin air?”

Ingrid burst out laughing. “Okay, now you’re getting it.”

The two of you spent the next thirty minutes yelling dramatic lines, sneaking around the media room, and using physio props to represent swords, goblets, and ghosts. At some point, Patri walked by, stared at the scene, and just kept walking without a word.

Finally, exhausted but victorious, Ingrid plopped back into the chair and handed you your laptop.

“Okay,” she said, panting slightly. “Now write the essay. You have to understand it now.”

You opened a blank doc and stared at the blinking cursor. Then, something miraculous happened. You started typing.

Your fingers flew over the keys as you wrote about Macbeth’s descent into madness, Lady Macbeth’s guilt and unraveling psyche, and the tragic consequences of unchecked ambition. You even used quotes. Properly cited.

Ingrid leaned over your shoulder, stunned. “Wow. That’s actually good.”

You grinned. “Told you I was smart.”

“You just needed to sword fight your way through Shakespeare.”

“Exactly.”

She patted your back. “You’re gonna pass. Maybe even get a B.”

“B for ‘blood on my hands,’” you said in your best Lady Macbeth voice.

Ingrid laughed. “You’re such a weirdo.”

“And you made me act out a ghost scene in the physio room. We’re both weird.”

“Fair point.”

And just like that, Macbeth was conquered—ice roller daggers and all.

The locker room felt like a pressure cooker.

Everyone was in their pregame rituals, headphones in, stretching, pacing, but there was a quiet tension that had nothing to do with kickoff. The whole team kept glancing at the door, waiting. You were in your locker, hunched over, retying your boots for what had to be the sixth time. Your foot had gone numb three reties ago but you weren’t stopping. Not until you knew.

Aitana, sitting on the bench across from you, whispered, “You’re going to cut off circulation.”

You ignored her and pulled the knot tighter. Just then, the door opened. Heads snapped up. Someone gasped.

There stood Olga, wearing her visitor’s badge like a press credential, and behind her, Alexia, already fully kitted, shin guards in, captain’s armband tight around her bicep. She looked like she’d walked straight out of a propaganda poster: determined, majestic, and definitely hiding nerves.

Olga held up a large manila envelope.

“Oh my God, it’s happening,” Ingrid muttered.

“Everybody gather up!” Alexia clapped, her voice firm and tinged with a smile. “Grades are in!”

There was an actual stampede. Pina tripped over her own boots. Ona shoved Aitana out of the way like it was a loose ball. Patri literally climbed over a bench. Within seconds, they’d formed a tight semicircle around Olga, who was holding the envelope like it was the final rose on The Bachelor.

“Do I have everyone’s attention?” Olga asked, dramatic as ever.

“Yes!” half the locker room yelled.

She peeled the envelope open slowly. Too slowly.

“Olga, please,” Frido said, clutching her heart. “Just open it. I can’t take it.”

She pulled out the paper with your grades and scanned it for a moment, face unreadable.

Alexia whispered, “Oh no. She’s doing the neutral face. I hate the neutral face.”

Olga looked up and cleared her throat. “First subject… History. Grade: A.”

The room erupted. Someone screamed. Patri started shaking you.

“Math,” Olga continued, “B+. Science, A-. English…”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“…B.”

The cheers were deafening.

“A B in English?!” Ingrid hollered. “That’s my girl!”

“I’m a genius!” you screamed, even as Patri launched you into the air like a sack of flour.

“PUT HER DOWN!” Frido shouted, already grabbing at your ankles like you were a loose balloon.

“NEVER!” Patri roared, spinning you around.

Aitana burst into tears. “She was failing two weeks ago!”

“She was using Wikipedia as a source!” Ingrid yelled through laughter.

“She said Macbeth was about a haunted kitchen!” Ona cried.

You were red-faced and breathless as Patri finally dropped you onto the bench. Alexia clapped her hands loudly to get everyone’s attention.

“Okay, okay, we’re proud. We’re happy. But we also have a Clasico to win. Let’s focus up!”

Everyone grumbled and slowly began returning to their gear, re-tying boots, slipping into jackets. The energy was lighter now, buzzing with excitement and joy.

You looked over and saw Olga quietly stepping back toward the door, her visitor pass swinging on her lanyard, ready to head up to her seat in the stands. You rushed to her, catching her just before she disappeared out of sight.

You threw your arms around her without saying a word, squeezing her so tightly she made a soft “oof.”

She hugged you right back, warm and steady, hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“Thank you,” you whispered into her shoulder. “For caring. Not just about the grades. About… all of it.”

She leaned back and smiled at you with those familiar, gentle eyes, then pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I will always care,” she said softly. “You’re my little sister. That means you get nagged and loved.”

You laughed a little, wiped your eyes.

“You’re still grounded if your next essay is late.”

“Olga!”

She winked and ducked out the door, leaving you standing in the hallway, grinning like a fool.

From behind you, Alexia called out, “Let’s go, genius! You’ve got a game to save.”

You turned, squared your shoulders, and jogged back into the locker room, head high, heart full, and for the first time in weeks, completely present.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

I miss main story Sylus so much (;_;)

Don't get me wrong I adore memory Sylus. Soft!Sylus is everything to me. But I have to admit that I really want to see more of the other equally valid and real side of him as well. That being the rough, morally grey crimelord we see during Long Awaited Revelry and in his Anecdote. Apart from Sylus on the job being hot as hell, there is so much about him and his motivations that we don't know yet and that I'm dying to find out.

I will also freely admit that a huge part of the reason for why I fell for Sylus and why he still has me in a chokehold is his complexity, his duality. I like that he is neither devil nor saint. Neither black nor white. Neither red flag nor forest full of green. He is so much more multifaceted and layered. He has real tangible flaws, and is certainly not a harmless cinnamon roll. He is a loverboy, yes, but equally a dangerous criminal whose hands have and will continue to kill others. And this duality is what makes him a great character in my eyes.

Hell, as much as it hurts me to witness, I like that he monumentally fucked up his initial meeting with present MC. And the narrative is very clear on this — his actions towards MC were wrong. He was forceful. He was cruel. Let's not sugarcoat this. Sure, us players know why he went about doing it the way he did and we feel bad for him as a consequence, but that doesn't make what he did in any way right or justifiable. MC was right to feel fear and disgust, and she would've been fully justified in never forgiving him imo. And honestly, I think Sylus would agree. He realizes just how badly he screwed things up, even if it took the harsh but true wake-up call from the shopkeeper to bring him to this realization. And it's a hugely important moment, both for him as a character and for his relationship with MC. Afterwards, he puts in the conscious effort to do better. To be better for her. To make things right. To me, this decision and commitment of his wouldn't have hit nearly as hard or been as meaningful if his prior actions hadn't been what they were. They proved that he is capable of real self reflection and growth. It's a massively important moment in their relationship.

The rocky start to their relationship also makes cards like Razor's Dance so impactful. Same with Goodcat Code and some phone calls and interactions where Sylus' fears and insecurities regarding MC's feelings toward him shine through. With the context of his behavior in LAR, it's completely understandable for him to have these fears. He knows he fucked up. Had he been a cinnamon roll made up of purely green flags, neither his feelings nor MC's would have made sense. Nor would MC's eventual forgiveness, and ability to once more see in him what others cannot, be near as powerful.

I don't know, am I making any sense with this or am I just rambling lol 😅

My point is that I love and appreciate all sides of Sylus. Both good and bad. It's what makes him him. And I would no more want to trade or give up main story Sylus than I would memory Sylus. I want big bad ruthless boss of Onychinus just as much as I want soft loverboy Sylus. They are equally important to Sylus' character. He wouldn't be himself without either. It's a package deal.

Perfect/flawless characters bore me. If Sylus were simply soft and green through and through, I would've lost interest. Honestly, I most likely wouldn't have downloaded the game to begin with. It was the danger mixed in with the comfort that drew me in.

It's like a friend and I have discussed many times — the fact that the hands that have wrought violence and death upon countless people are the very same ones that touch his beloved with such reverence and tenderness, is incredibly hot. Duality ftw.

So needless to say I am waiting with baited breath for the day when we will finally see main story Sylus again. Or for that matter, just a memory of Sylus in boss of Onychinus mode.

🐉❤️ 🐦‍⬛

[fluentmoviequoter]

Chemistry Partners

Requested by anonymous but I lost the full request

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!PO!reader

Summary: Tim and Lucy assist you in locating a parolee in violation of his conditions. Lucy notices the undeniable chemistry between you and Tim, but doesn't expect Tim's response when she points it out.

Warnings: fluff, mention of prostitution, threat against r

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info

“CDCR, probation. How may I help you?” you say to answer the phone.

With the receiver tucked between your ear and shoulder, you look at your current list of parolees. The spreadsheet shows three red lines, and you frown as you read the names.

“Hi, I’m calling about Dexter Wheeler,” the woman on the phone says. “I believe he’s one of your parolees.”

Sitting up straighter, you reply, “Yes, ma’am, he is.”

“Well, I’m sorry to bother you and I’m sure it’s nothing, but he hasn’t been to work in three days. His conditions for employment allow him sick time and personal time, but he hasn’t notified us, and he isn’t answering the phone.”

“Okay, I am supposed to have a check-in with him tomorrow,” you read from your screen. “I’ll look into this and let you know. Thank you for the call.”

“Of course. Is there anything else you need from me?”

“Nothing specific, no. Is there-  Did you notice any unusual behavior before his absence?”

“He had been a bit distant,” she answers. “Unwilling to answer questions, easily agitated.”

“Did he make any threats or become overly belligerent?”

“No, no, nothing like that. I just figured he was tired or maybe he wanted another job.”

“I’ll certainly find out what has been going on with him.”

“Thank you. Would you mind calling me back after you speak to him? I want to be sure he’s okay.”

“Of course. I’ll keep you updated. Thank you.”

You return the receiver to the phone cradle and navigate to Mr. Wheeler’s parole file. He hasn’t checked in with you recently, and he hasn’t filed any change of employment or violated any conditions of his parole in the past. He’s never been overly kind, but he was trying to stay on the straight and narrow when you first met him. You think your parolees deserve a second chance, but they must be willing to do the work and prove that their second chance won’t be wasted.

With your phone on speaker, you call Mr. Wheeler. It rings repeatedly until an automated message alerts you that Dexter’s voicemail is full. That’s not a good sign.

You log out of your computer, gather your things, and tell your supervisor you’re doing a surprise visit. She encourages you to alert the police, and you nod before you leave the office. There’s no reason to think Mr. Wheeler will do anything rash, but it is still a good idea to have the police on standby.

“My favorite podcast buddy!” Nell exclaims when she answers your call. “What can I do for you?”

“Hey, Nell,” you reply, hitting your blinker. “I’m going to a parolee’s house; he hasn’t been at work for three days and he isn’t answering my calls. Any chance you could put some officers on standby for me?”

“Of course. What’s the address?”

You recite it from memory, then thank Nell. With the promise of another true crime party, you end the call and approach Mr. Wheeler’s apartment complex. It’s neither the safest nor the most dangerous in Los Angeles. You survey your immediate surroundings and exit the car to walk up the cracking concrete walkway.

The buzzer echoes in the dim hallway before you exit and look toward Mr. Wheeler’s balcony. One of his neighbors comes down the stairs and says your name.

“Mrs. Ritter,” you reply with a smile. “How are you? How are the kids?”

She sighs and clicks her tongue. “Still wilder than Tarzan.”

You laugh at her unusual analogy. She was one of your first parolees, and you’re proud of her progress in her personal and professional life.

“You here for Mr. Wheeler?” she inquires after hearing you’re doing well. “He has been holed up in that little pigsty since Friday night.”

“Really?” you ask. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“Still makin’ noise and it don’t smell no worse, if that’s what you’re askin’. Come on in, honey.”

She opens the gate for you, wishes you luck, and walks to a freshly detailed but clearly used BMW. You wave to her, then walk up the steps to Mr. Wheeler’s apartment.

“Mr. Wheeler!” you call after your knocks go unanswered. You say your name before you add, “I need to talk to you about your job.”

“I quit!” he yells from inside.

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works, Dexter. Open the door and we can talk.”

“I open this door, and we won’t be talking!”

At that, you step away from the door and move back down the stucco hallway.

“Last chance to work with me,” you call.

He throws something against the door, which rattles on its hinges, and you pull your phone from your pocket. With a quick text to Nell, you have backup on the way. Hopefully, you can talk to Mr. Wheeler after the situation is de-escalated.

Less than five minutes later, a police car parks behind your sedan and two officers exit it. You meet them at the bottom of the stairs and open the gate to let them into the apartment complex.

“Thank you so much for coming so quickly,” you say as you lead them up the stairs.

“No problem,” Officer Bradford replies.

“I’m Lucy Chen,” Lucy introduces. “And this is Sergeant Tim Bradford.”

“Nice to meet you,” you respond. “So, my parolee, Dexter Wheeler, lives in apartment 34R. His employer called me earlier because he violated his agreement with them and stopped showing up three days ago. He wasn’t answering my calls, so I came over and knocked on his door. He told me that if he opened the door, we wouldn’t speak, and then threw something at the door.”

Tim nods, then looks around the small hallway. “Any of the neighbors say anything?”

“One of the women who lives downstairs implied that his apartment is – for lack of a better word – disgusting, and that he’s been locked in it since he returned home from work four or so days ago.”

Tim’s eyes remain locked on yours as you speak, and he mirrors your movements as you turn slightly to face Mr. Wheeler’s apartment.

“You want us to take him into custody or just assist in getting inside?” Tim asks.

You sigh, then ask, “What do you recommend?”

“We lock him up,” he answers. “He threw something at you and threatened you.”

“But not in that order,” you remind him with a small smile.

“That’s worse, that’s practically carrying out a threat against a government official.”

“You know this guy,” Lucy points out. “What do you think would benefit him the most?”

“If you’d be willing, I think one more chance might nudge him toward the right decision. If he decides to go the hard way, do whatever you need to do.”

Tim nods while Lucy agrees. He steps to the side and gestures for you to pass him, moving you farther from the door. While your back is turned, Lucy raises her brows and looks between you and Tim. He shakes his head once sternly, then leads Lucy to the door.

Tim knocks with the side of his closed fist and calls, “LAPD! Open the door, we’ve got a few questions for you.”

Dexter doesn’t answer, so Lucy tries, “We just need to see that you’re okay, Mr. Wheeler.”

He still doesn’t answer, so Tim wraps his fingers around the door handle. It turns about halfway, then stops.

“Mr. Wheeler, we know you’re in there. Because you’re on parole, we can come inside without a warrant,” Tim explains. “Last chance to comply.”

“I’m not on parole!” he finally replies.

Tim raises his hands and drops them back to his sides as you deadpan, “Oh, I must’ve been mistaken.”

“We’re coming in, Mr. Wheeler,” Lucy says.

Something else hits the door with a thud, and Tim steps back before bringing his foot up. He kicks the door beside the lock and rushes inside when it splinters and swings open. Lucy lays her hand on her taser and follows Tim while you wait in the hall. A door opens farther down, and someone leans out to see the cause of the commotion.

“Everything’s under control,” you assure them. “Stay inside.”

Lucy returns to the door and steps out before taking a deep breath. “Tim’s bringing him out.”

“Is it bad?” you ask.

Lucy’s eyes widen as she nods. You message your supervisor that Wheeler’s living conditions are unsuitable, and he’s being taken into police custody.

“What?” Dexter asks as Tim shoves him out of the door.

As he closes the door, you catch a whiff of the interior and fight the urge to cover your nose. Tim clears his throat as he looks at you.

“Mr. Wheeler, why haven’t you attended work this week?” you ask.

“I quit,” he tells you.

“Well, you have to tell me that. It’s a violation of your parole.”

“You don’t need to know my every move. I’m not a child.”

“Is that why your home is so dirty?”

“None of your business.”

“Actually, it is. You also failed to answer my calls earlier or open the door for me. Two more violations.”

“I was busy!” he defends.

He attempts to step toward you, but Tim keeps a tight grip on his handcuffs and yanks him back. Wheeler falls, grunting when he hits the concrete landing.

“He was indeed busy,” Lucy tells you.

Your brows raise, and Tim rubs his jaw before he says, “There’s a prostitute in there.”

“He took a prostitute in there?!” you exclaim.

You’re not surprised that he engaged in a criminal offense but by the prostitute’s willingness to go into such a residence. Lucy takes a deep breath before she knocks and reenters the apartment. Almost immediately, she exits again with a scantily-clad woman in handcuffs, closes the door, and exhales.

“Well, Mr. Wheeler,” you begin. “The good news is, I’m not your parole officer anymore.”

He smiles up at you, and Tim ‘accidentally’ knocks his boot against Dexter’s side.

“Bad news,” Tim continues. “You’re going back to jail for numerous parole violations and engaging in prostitution.”

“You’re on parole?” the woman asks.

“That is what’s bothering you?” you and Tim ask simultaneously.

While she attempts to justify her actions, Tim radios for another unit to meet them at the apartment complex and transport the two arrested individuals before you.

As you end a call with your supervisor, Tim and Lucy talk to the officers escorting Mr. Wheeler and his female companion to lock up. You slide your phone into your pocket and wait for them to finish what they’re doing.

After the door closes and the other officers drive toward the main road, Lucy turns to Tim with a wide smile.

“What?” he asks, waving you over.

“Hello?” she exclaims. “Chemistry what? You and the parole officer are like a perfect match!”

“Chemistry?” Tim repeats just as you reach them. “With my wife?”

“Chemistry?” you say, just as Tim had. “Tim Bradford, do you have a crush on me?”

Tim sighs as Lucy looks rapidly between you and Tim.

“Careful,” you warn, while Tim snaps, “You’re going to get whiplash, and I don’t want to hear you complaining about it.”

“I have to get back to work,” you sigh. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome,” Lucy replies. “I- you’re married?!”

Tim rolls his eyes, pats your shoulder, and follows you to your car. Lucy watches as he opens your door for you and leans forward to tell you something that makes you smile.

“Tell me everything,” Lucy requests as they return to the shop.

Tim doesn’t reply while he follows your car out of the apartment parking lot. Of course, he knows you are perfect for him, but something about hearing it from someone else makes him love you even more.

“Why don’t we get attached to all of her calls?” Lucy asks instead.

“Why are you still talking?” Tim counters.

Lucy purses her lips, then decides, “The sarcastic comments are more enjoyable when your wife is around.”

Most things are, Tim thinks. He’s glad to know you’re safe, and as Lucy continues asking questions he won’t answer, he thinks about you and what you should do this weekend. It will probably be easier to create a plan after he gets the smell of Dexter Wheeler’s apartment off him and his shop and his wedding ring back on his finger.

[creepycranberry]

Crying During Sex

Bob Reynolds x Reader

Plot: Bucky gives you a job working for the team and you’re faced with an old friend who would give anything to prove himself to you again

Warnings: drugs, abuse, references to SA, alcohol, cussing, mental health issues, parental issues, sex, soft smut (in the future), references to neuropsychiatric issues, angst, not proofread

A/N: there is three parts to this now and it is completed!!! <3

9.7k words

“Terrified you’ll bite the hand that needs you, and right now I need you”

Pt 2 pt 3

—————————————————————————

“I just can’t believe you said yes.” Sam complains again, “I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”

You roll your eyes and look out of the car window, “I’m not on anyone’s side. I think both of you are being stupid, but if it’s between listening to you complain for free, or listening to him complain for a salary and benefits, I’m choosing the salary and benefits.”

“Oh so you’re a sell out.” You know he’s half joking but it still hurts a little. Sam does another round on the third floor of an obscenely full airport parking garage.

“You’re the one who pushed me to get a good degree and a good job and live up to my potential.” You argue and Sam seemingly has no come back.

“You’re right I did- I did say that. But can’t you get a job at some other company far away from this dangerous ass saving the world shit?”

“I tried that- there’s a parking- no, nope sorry, false alarm.”

“I hate sedans.” Sam mumbles under his breath, “I just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Sam, I will be doing paperwork and making him stick to his schedule, I'm hardly putting my life on the line.”

“That’s what pepper and happy thought and the next thing they knew-“

“They were in the middle of an intergalactic superhero war?” You offer.

“Exactly. Is that a pa- nope. Shit.”

“Why don’t you just drop me off, you don’t have to walk me up to TSA like this is my first day of kindergarten.”

“I wish it was your first day of kindergarten, then I’d be picking you up at 3 o’clock.”

“Buckys not gonna let anything happen to me.”

Sam mumbles something under his breath. Sam had known you since you were seventeen and moved in with your mom who was a good friend of his sister. He helped you apply to college, pick a major and move into your dorm.

“Just be safe, don’t go on missions with them, don’t talk to anybody you don’t know, don’t give money to beggars, don’t walk alone at night, don’t take candy from strangers-“

“Sam. Be for real, Bucky wouldn’t let me near a mission in a million years.” You exhaled, “ooh there’s a spot-“

“Getting it.”

Sam parked and grabbed your bags from the trunk. He walked all the way up to TSA with you, finally letting you walk by yourself to get in line after you assure him for the umpteenth time that you’ll survive the plane ride.

————————

At first you’re not sure if Buckys even in the airport to pick you up. He told you he’d meet you at the baggage claim but so far he’s nowhere to be found. You try to call him but he doesn’t pick up so you message him and say that you’re going to be outside waiting.

You sit on the sidewalk with your suitcase, picking at your nails.

After a few minutes a loud horn sounds from yards away and you look to see a limousine practically barreling towards you. The limousine parks swiftly (but not safely) and to your surprise Bucky gets out of the backseat.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry I meant to get here on time but he wouldn’t listen to the directions I was giving him and then my phone died.” Bucky wraps one of his arms around you, the other grabbing your luggage.

“Who?” You ask as Bucky leads you to the backseat of the limo to open up the back door for you.

“You must be new team member the winter soldier says so much about.” A very loud, very excited voice says.

You smile politely, “Alexei she’s not a new team member she’s my assistant. She’s not allowed to go on missions with us.”

“My mistake. I am Alexei Shostakov, the red Guardian, fierce warrior-“

“Alexei, don't scare her.” Bucky grumbles as he climbs into the back seat with you.

“I am not scaring, I’m being polite, I tell nice girl my name.” You respond to Alexei with your name and he smiles, his voice booming and filling the space in the limo.

———————

The watchtower feels sterile, like a hospital. Bucky insisted on giving you a tour, starting with the gym and the infirmary and going all the way until you reach the floor that holds the apartment.

It’s less sterile in the kitchen and living areas, it’s actually almost relaxing until Bucky shows you the room you’ll be staying in, huge windows letting in more natural light than you could possibly need.

“Do one of you need to photosynthesize or…”

Bucky smiles, “it’s just how the place is built.”

Bucky helps you unpack your bags, working with and around you like this was something the both of you do regularly.

“Hey, Buck?”

He’s sitting next to you putting clothes on hangers, “yes?”

“Can you try and make up with Sam soon?”

Bucky exhales slowly, “I want to, kid, I’ve tried. He just isn’t open to accepting any of my explanations. He doesn’t believe a word I say.”

“I’m sorry.” You mumble.

“S’not your fault, kid.”

“I think he feels like I’m taking your side in all of this.” You confess.

“Are you?” Bucky asks and you shrug.

“I don’t think so. Not deliberately at least. I don’t understand why this has to be an argument in the first place. I just feel like i've hurt his feelings somehow by taking your offer.” You let yourself fall back onto the floor so you’re laying down.

“Well if you thought it might hurt his feelings than why’d you agree to the job?” Bucky leans back to lay next to you, his metal arm resting on his stomach.

You consider the best way to say what you need to say without talking in a way that might make him worry, “I missed you, I guess.”

“You guess?” Bucky grins.

“I guess. It’s just so lonely back home. Sam is always busy now, my mom finally has the time for a life of her own and I don’t really have any friends. I’m alone all of the time and when you’re alone that much you can’t help but feel unfulfilled. I was just tired of not having anyone to talk to.” You admit and Bucky stays quiet, “I have nothing but time to think and I’m starting to think that it’s not good for me.”

“You’re not alone here.” Bucky assures you, “once the team gets attached to you you will wish you had more time alone.”

“When do I get to meet them, the team?”

“At dinner. We’re gonna go out to eat with everyone and you’ll be able to get a good impression of everyone.”

You roll onto your side, resting your head on your arms, “What if they don’t like me?” You almost whisper.

You always struck Bucky as an anxious creature. The first time he met you Sam had to almost convince you to introduce yourself. Back then he thought you were just shy but the longer he’s gotten to know you the more he’s seen that it’s something deeper than shyness. It’s a kind of profound, deep rooted hesitance to experience the world. He supposes that maybe that’s why he feels such a strong need to protect you, to make sure you have absolute confidence in him if nothing else.

“How could they not like you?”

“I don’t know. I could say something wrong or accidentally insult one of them or something? I just really want them to like me.” You mumble.

“Well Alexei already seems to like you-“

“Alexei seems to like everyone.” You butt in and Bucky considers it for a moment before accepting the statement with a nod.

“At the very least I can guarantee that at least one more of them will like you.” He offers.

“Okay.” You nod, and Bucky smiles.

“Now, help me get the hell off this floor.”

—————————

Bob doesn’t want to be out tonight. He has leftovers at home he needs to eat and he’d just gotten to the best part of the book he was rereading. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in the new person Bucky wanted everyone to meet, it wasn’t even that the thought of accepting and expending the energy getting to know someone right now felt like an obstacle of Sisyphean proportions. The issue was with the fact that he wanted to say no but didn’t. He wanted to be polite so he said yes, knowing it would make him miserable. And it has so far.

He was seated between the two empty chairs and Alexei. Alexei who would not stop trying to strike up a conversation with him. He would try for like then minutes and then when Bob finally was able to get across that he wasn’t interested in a conversation Alexei would start talking to Walker. But then walkers attention would end up turning to something yelena was saying and Alexei would suddenly be very interested in another conversation with Bob.

This happened three times before Bucky finally walked in, blocking the girl behind him somewhat. Bob pretended to be interested in the menu in front of him while everyone else introduced themselves. The seat next to him is pulled out slightly and he hears the girl thank Bucky as she sat and scooched her chair forward.

“And this is Bob.” Yelena pipes up and Bob mentally curses.

He looks up and nods at you, his bangs obscuring your view of his eyes. It takes him a moment to muster up the wherewithal to actually make eye contact with you but when he does he heart just about stops.

You look at him with bewilderment normally reserved for when scientists bring back previously extinct animals.

“What are you-“

“I- actually I need to use the ladies room for a moment.” You announce to everyone, “sorry, I should’ve- i should’ve went before I sat down, just- just one second please.” And you rush away before Bob can even get the words off of his tongue.

——————

When you first met you were fifteen and a half. He was a few months shy of seventeen.

You were living with your father, who worked all of the time. who, when he wasn’t working, spent time with his girlfriend. So there was very little extra time for you.

When you were a kid he was consistent and present. He did all of the things all of the other girls' dads did. And then you turned thirteen and he thought you didn’t need him anymore. So you spent most of your time alone in your house.

You didn’t spend much time with your classmates. You felt in your bones that you weren’t built with the same connection they were all made with. You felt so innately that you wouldn’t feel understood or fulfilled by their friendship.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be friends with them, or that you hadn’t thought to try. It was more that you felt yourself as a temporary fixture in the lives of people around you.

You had yet to meet someone who matched your mind, who was symmetric to you, someone who folded in all of the same places that you did.

Until one night at a park on a swing set, you met him. He was smoking a joint, blowing the smoke upwards and watching it dance through the light of the street light above him. His legs were kicking back and forth on the swing and he was wearing a hoodie in spite of the dull heat.

The wood chips under your feet told him someone was behind him. When he saw you he thought that you were possibly the last kind of person he was expecting to see.

Your hair was kind of messed up in a way that with the street light hanging over you it looked like you had a halo, and in his drug-addled mind you became an angel, the most revered, pure thing he had ever laid eyes on.

“Do you mind?” You asked, pointing to the swing next to him.

“Not at all.”

You sat on the swing and tilted your head back to face the sky, your eyes closing as you soaked in the dark humidity of the night.

Bob didn’t talk to you, he didn’t want to say the wrong thing and scare you. The both of you just sat there, swings swaying and the world around the two of you completely still.

—————————

Bobs mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for water. Out of everybody in the world for Bucky to know.

Bucky was going to kill him.

She was going to tell Bucky and then Bucky was going to murder him in cold blood.

This was a girl Bucky had described as “a very lovely, easy to get along with” person. Which in regular people’s terms means Bucky considers her to be close to the point of being like family to him.

And that means Bob is going to get his ass beat. And he couldn’t even blame probable future Bucky because he would probably do the same.

—————————

You want to splash cold water on your face but you don’t want to smear your makeup so you just sit and hyperventilate into a paper towel for a minute before pulling yourself together.

By the time you get back to the table Bob has fully retreated into his menu and Yelena is reaching over to rub his back, mumbling something to him that he’s actively choosing to ignore.

You sit back in your seat smiling at everyone around the table.

“Anyways, as I was saying before,” Bucky introduces you to everyone and begins telling you everyone’s name, going around the table until he reaches- “and Bob. You okay, man?”

“Yeah, fine I’m just, just looking at the menu.” Bob mumbles.

“I can see that. Has Your day been okay? Did something happen?” Bucky asks and Bobs gaze swims over you for a moment.

You look almost the same, but your face is thinner and your eyes- just something about them isn’t as vivid as before.

“No every-everything’s fine I’m just- just hungry is all.” Bucky and Yelena exchange a look.

You take in Bob. You make note of everything that changed. Everything from his frame, which used to be thin and lean, now was wider, to the newfound sharpness of his jaw. What struck you most though was his hair.

What used to be a shapeless mass sitting atop his head was now shiny brown waves that framed his face in a way that cut through something in you that you might have needed before but can’t even remember the feeling of now.

The conversation around the two of you picks up momentarily, which is a welcome distraction from whatever just broke in you.

“I like your hair.” You tell him, cottonmouthed and awestruck for all of the wrong reasons. He doesn’t respond at first. He looks down at his knees.

“Thanks, I um- I think anything I say right about now will sound pretty dumb so I’m just gonna- I’ll just stay out of your way.”

I can think of everything you could say to save us from our own private moment of purgatory. You think.

“I’m not here to give you a hard time, Robert. You don’t owe me anything.” But he does. And you know he does. And he knows he does. But you want this to be easy, you won’t survive sitting in a room with him if every time you try you feel like something is being cut out of you.

Bob stares at you for a minute before standing up abruptly, “I’m gonna go ahead and walk home.”

“We haven’t even eaten-“ Yelena starts.

“I have food at home, I really only came to meet Bucky's friend and now I have so I think it might be best at this point if I just head home.”

“No you should stay-“ Yelena tries but Bob continues to ignore her, instead turning to you.

“It was great seein-meeting you I’m sure I will see you soon.”

And then he storms away. And it’s childish and petty, and you’re angry at him either way so it makes no sense- but you find yourself standing up to go after him because he is one of two familiar faces among a group of people who you know nothing about and it isn’t fair that he gets to leave when both of you are uncomfortable either way.

He’s fast, faster than you thought he’d be. The front door to the restaurant is swinging shut as you approach it so you grab it, hightailing it after him because he doesn’t get to win this.

“Robert.” You call after him before he can disappear into the crowd of pedestrians.

He wants to keep running but he doesn’t, he stops and turns around, fully facing you and taking in all of you. And by god if you weren’t still the closest thing he would ever witness to an angel.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it- I didn’t know it was you, I wouldn’t have shown up if I knew it was you, I wouldn’t have put you- I- I’m sorry.” He babbles, air fighting to stay out of his lungs.

“Breathe, Robert. I’m- it’s-“ you couldn’t say it’s not that big of a deal because it was. After him you had to change everything about your life just so you didn’t have to see the gaps in the spaces where he was supposed to fit, “I’m not going to hold it against you. I’m here to be an assistant, to be professional. But professional doesn’t start until tomorrow and I am so scared of sitting there at that table with those people who I don’t know but I desperately want to like me.”

Bob softens in a way he forgot he knew how to, “no one could hate you. You have nothing to worry about.”

You do your best not to take the compliment to heart, “what I’m saying is is that it’s unfair if I have to be uncomfortable and you don’t.”

“Well that’s why I’m leaving so you- so you don’t have to be uncomfortable.”

“I would rather be uncomfortable with something familiar than suffer by myself.”

“I- I would love to be able to sit in there with you and make things fair because I know that I owe it to you, I owe it to you bad, but if I have to spend any more time in that room I will not be able to breathe ever again, it will suffocate me.” He gasps.

“I’m living at the tower now. You’ll suffocate either way.”

“It’s- it’s not about you, baby. It’s not you, I promise. The second I’m- the second I’m normal I will get on my knees and grovel I promise but I can’t be in there with you and them. I can’t do it, I would rather Bucky kill me personally with his bare hands than have to sit there at that table with him knowing how bad I- knowing how bad I messed up with you. The guilt would eat me alive.” He reaches out like he wants to grab your shoulders or your hands or something but he doesn’t, instead he presses his hands together firmly.

“What about me?” You mumble.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what about me, what about sitting in there with me and the guilt over what you did to me, how you left things.”

“I- I can’t make- I can’t ask you to forgive me in front of all of them. I- I don’t know if I can ask at all. I don’t know if I deserve that.”

He’s so soft that it hurts. It’s painful to sit here and look at him like he doesn’t have the ability to turn your world on its axis with just his presence.

“Then go home, Bob.”

You turn to walk back into the restaurant Buckys standing there, eyebrows raised as he watches Bob retreat down thr block.

He stops you by your arm “What’s going on there?”

“No. Nothing, I mean nothing.”

“So you just have dramatic arguments with random strangers in public for fun?” He responds and you shake your head.

“Bucky please don’t make me say anything about it, please don’t make me explain myself.” You beg and because Bucky understands you in that oddly special way only guardian figure can understand you in, he backs off, leading you back to your table.

——————

You always had trouble sleeping in new places. When you first moved in with your mom you didn’t sleep well for a month.

But you had to sleep, your insomnia made everything else worse, it made the world stop and you couldn’t afford for that to happen before you made a solid impression on the team.

When you were sixteen you had a spell where it happened every couple days for at least a couple hours. One second you and Bob would be talking or reading silently with each other and the next something would trigger it and you’d be sitting in one place, staring into the space before you while Bob grabbed water and moved you to be more comfortable.

It was embarrassing at times, in high school when you’d come to and be in the office waiting for someone to pick you up. Or when you were in college and your roommates would live around you while they waited for you to come back.

Now more than anything it was inconvenient but it was also very rare that you had spells at all anymore. Now more than anything you just had the looming anxiety that you’d go away randomly at the most inconvenient time.

Now you were just suffering from nightmares, your body reacting to your sleep deprivation with images of your life and its traumas.

“You’re doing so good.”

The voice accompanied by the sensation of pressure on your body in the place of hands that never should have been there in the first place.

Everytime it shocks you, debilitates you in a way that not even your still spells can do. But you have no choice but to suffer it.

Waking up is a rare welcome intrusion.

————————

You don’t see Bob around as much as you thought you would, but everyone else seems to need your help so you stay busy enough to ignore the gnawing feeling in your gut.

John was headed back from a mission but wouldn’t be in until later this evening, so you were to drive an hour to pick up his kid.

Your skirt rubs against your knees as you park the car, the AC cold against your cheeks. When you step out of the car Olivia steps out from behind the creaky screen door.

“Who’re you?”

“I’m the teams new assistant. Walker is coming home from a mission but he won’t be back for another two hours.” You try your best to smile and look professional.

“Are you going to be the one taking care of him this weekend?” Olivia asks, folding her arms.

“Oh, no. I’m just going to be picking him up and then maybe dropping him back off depending on the teams schedule.”

“So he will still be with John for most of the weekend at least?”

“Yes. I will drive him to the tower, feed him and babysit until they get back from the mission and then he will be with Walker for the rest of the time.” You clarify and Olivia exhales like something heavy was just put onto her shoulders.

“So John will be spending time with our son?”

“Yes, I could email you a redacted copy of the schedule if that would ease your mind?”

“He had you schedule things to do with our son?”

You pull back your professional persona just a little, “well, if I may be frank, Walker is nervous about this first weekend. He wants things to go well and he wants to avoid your son being bored so he, himself, planned a few things to do. I just keep track of the schedules of everyone on the team. But if you’re feeling hesitant about anything I can send you a copy of walker's schedule. I could forward them to you on Walker's Weekends if that might ease your mind a bit more.”

“Did he tell you that? That he was nervous?” Olivia asks.

“No but it was obvious when he was relaying the information about the plans he made to me, having me help him pick out furniture and insisting on going grocery shopping with me so he could help me find good snacks for your son.”

That seems to soothe something in Olivia, who retreats into the house and comes back out with the toddler and his bag in hand. You now take notice of Olivia’s outfit, she looks nice but not in a ‘I just got home from work” way.

“Do you have any plans of your own for the weekend?”

“Uh, i'm just having dinner with a friend and her husband.” The small boy is hesitant to leave his mom to go to you, but after a moment he reluctantly reaches for you, “you have the car seat for him right?”

“Yes, I have the car seat, I wasn’t sure about how you feel about screen time so I got a couple audiobooks and I have a couple playlists of kids songs that John thought he might like for the drive. I also have a watered down apple juice in the car for him.”

Olivia looks somewhat relieved, like her hesitance at leaving her son with his father was somewhat softened by the fact that someone else would be there with him.

She says her goodbyes and goes back inside. The toddler fusses as she leaves his sight. You bounce him on your hip all the way to the car, shushing him as you buckle him into his car seat, handing him his juice in hopes that it might calm him down a bit.

He fusses for the first twenty minutes of the ride, but after that point and some trial and error with the playlists he calms down and even seems to cheer up a little.

———————

Bob thought the coast was clear, he thought it would be okay to leave his room for a minute just to grab something to eat. He almost made it, he had a sandwich and chips and the box of cheez itz all crowded into his arms and was just about to turn the corner to head into the hallway and back to his room, but the elevator dinged and he turned around.

He turned around just in time to see you walking through the kitchen area and into the living room with a kid on your hip.

You don’t notice him at all. You’re too busy talking to the toddler.

“… and then I’ll make you some dinner and then your dad will be here. What toy do you want?”

You take a few smaller toys out of a bag and set them around the kid.

It’s just then that Bob realizes that he needs to leave. He rushes down the hall and to his room, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible.

————————

It’s a half hour past the time Walker was supposed to be home already. You already fed the kid and now you’re sitting on the common room floor with him, playing with one of those boxes with the shapes carved into them.

You keep eyeing the clock, every minute they’re late you become even more anxious than before.

You turn PBS on the tv while you do dishes and when you come back he’s asleep on the floor. You pick him up and take him to Walkers room.

You had helped Walker put together the kid stuff earlier in the week. There was a toddler bed, a kids art easel and a play kitchen, along with a toy box filled with toys that Walker had you help him pick out.

When you suggested the play kitchen Walker sighed, “isn’t that more of a girls toy?”

“Aren’t some of the most renowned chefs in the world men?” You’d retorted and he nodded.

“Yeah. Yes. Sorry.” John mumbled, clearing his throat.

Now You tuck the kid into bed and just stand there for a minute, looking around Walkers room, needing something to do.

When you don’t find anything in there you head to the kitchen, checking the tablet for your to do list for the day. The last thing you have to do today is order more candy for Bob to keep in his room.

According to the others, he was fighting withdrawal symptoms with sweets. He constantly had nerds or skittles in his hands, like he needed to replace the space that drugs had in his life with something else.

You decide to set up a dentist appointment for him as well as ordering the candy.

Around fifteen minutes later the elevator dings and everyone steps out, looking equally as miserable.

“I’m guessing things didn’t fully go to plan?” You sigh, approaching Bucky to study the gash on his cheek.

“There were… unforeseen circumstances.” He mutters.

“Okay,” you sigh heavily, “sit on the couch, all of you and I’ll patch you up.”

“Is she trained for that?” Walker asks Bucky.

“I think she’s trained for everything but combat.” Bucky sighs.

You grab the first aid kit from under the sink and sit on the coffee table in front of all of them, “Walker I’ll take care of you first. Your son is asleep in his bed, he’s had dinner and a snack and I let him watch some cartoons while I cleaned the kitchen up a bit.”

Walker peels off his tactical gear to reveal the compression shirt he wears under it and rolls up his sleeve.

He’s relatively uninjured, a cut here and there. The main issue is a jagged gash on his bicep, which you work on efficiently and without too much trouble, “check on your kid and then go down to the infirmary. I would give you the stitches myself but doing them makes me queasy.”

The team all look at him like he’s grown a third arm as he nods and stands up and does as your told. No one speaks until he comes back out of the hallway and leaves through the elevator.

“Sorcery.” Alexei mutters to yelena.

———————

You and Bob met up at the swings every day for a week before you actually had a conversation.

You were both absentmindedly swaying on the swings, bathing in the light of the street lamp above you when you looked at Bob and said, “what’s your name?”

“Bob.”

You stopped talking for a long moment, staring off into the dark expanse of the field by the park, “can I just call you Robert?”

For the first time that night Bob met your eyes, “you can call me anything you want.”

You smiled at him for the first time and he felt his lungs damn near collapsed. He wanted to make you smile forever.

You feel something looming behind you and you turn around to see the shadow that you saw sitting on your bed before. You look back and Bob and it’s him now, him older.

“Robert?”

“He won’t hurt you,” Bob says, “he doesn’t want to hurt you he’s just- he just wants to see you.”

You look at Bob with a certain desperation and the air around the both of you turns from hot humid mugginess to a dry cold that made your bones physically ache from how cold it was.

“Bobby, don't leave me alone with him.” You plead.

“He’s just me, he just wants to see who you are. He wants to know why he thinks about you so much. But I’ll stay with you here either way. Promise.” Bob reaches out and holds onto the chain of your swing, his quiet smile grounding you intensely.

Bob wakes up and stares at the space ahead of him, the terrified look on your face a still image in his mind.

———————

“Hey, kid?” Bucky calls from the other side of your door.

You’re lying on your stomach on the floor of your room, your radio is humming something familiar and your hands are wet with deep blue paint.

Your bedroom walls were still bare, devoid of personality in a way that felt like a personal slight against you. So you decided to paint and collect little things to pin to and hang on the walls.

“Yeah?” You call back to him and he opens your door.

“Do you want to go to the aquarium with us?”

“You mean John and his kid?” You clarify.

“Well them and then also Alexei and Yelena and I think Bob maybe?”

“And you?” You ask and Bucky smiles to himself because you sound hopeful that if you go he’ll be there.

“Yeah, and me.”

“Let me just clean myself up and change and I’ll be right there!” You smile, scrambling off of the floor and tripping over yourself because you can’t lift yourself with your hands.

“Bucky, have you seen my red sweater?” Bob calls from the other side of the hall, because of course you get the room across the hall from him.

And even then you haven’t seen him in the week you’ve been here.

“I don’t know, bud.” Bucky remarks and then turns to you, “you seen a red sweater?”

“Bob, check my laundry basket.” You basically order him and he reluctantly enters your space.

“You okay?” He nervously mumbles to you, as he sifts through the basket of clothes, he’s wearing a T-shirt that’s probably a size too big giving how it hangs around his biceps.

“I have paint on my hands and I fell trying to get up.” You admit and he snorts lightly under his breath, suppressing a smile like his life depends on it.

“Do you need help?” He asks and you think he’s asking just to be nice. He pulls a wad of red fabric out of your laundry basket.

“No I think I can…” you attempt to stand up by yourself again, and you almost were able to until you slipped on a random piece of paper.

He bites his bottom lip to suppress a laugh and puts his sweater down. He approaches you like you’re feral at first, “can I…?”

“You can try but if memory serves-“ He lifts you by your waist like you’re a sack of flour, “what the fuck?”

“Sentry serum.” He shrugs, grabbing his sweater and backing out of your room.

Bucky looks at Bob as he retreats down the hall, “do I get to know anything about that?”

He steps into your room, closing the door behind him as you wash your hands in the bathroom sink and then retreat into your closet.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Memory serves?” Bucky quotes and you curse.

“I did say that, huh?”

“Yep.” Bucky leans against the door he closed.

“We knew each other when I was in high school.”

“When you were in high school?” Bucky clarifies.

“He dropped out as like a freshman, I think? So I was in high school and he was working the morning shift at a donut shop while high out of his mind.” You explain, pulling a crew back over your head.

“And so you guys met at a donut shop?”

“At a park, far past midnight. He was smoking weed, I was avoiding my dads girlfriend.”

“And you two… courted?” Bucky pries.

Something in you deflates, he can hear it in your voice, “I don’t know what gave you that impression.”

Your voice is steely and cold. Bucky wants to back off a bit but before he can backtrack you start talking again, “and courted? Can you try and sound like you were born this century? You make it sound like my father was sizing up how many cows I was worth. No, we didn’t date. We were friends, he hid out at my house because my dad was never home and his dad was seemingly always home. But when I was seventeen and he was like nineteen, I think, he disappeared without a word and then I moved to my moms. Not much else to tell outside of that.”

“You called him Robert?” Bucky finds himself asking.

“How’d you know that?” You ask as you leave your closet, pulling your hair up into a ponytail and blowing your bangs out of your eyes.

“I heard you call him that.” Bucky mutters.

“You’re such a nosy bitch.” You laugh, and Bucky knows not to take offense to it. He actually laughs a little, “I loved Patti Smith. I read Just Kids around the time I met him and back then he’d entertain anything I had to say and in the book Robert Mapplethorp introduces himself to her as Bob and she asks if she can just call him Robert.”

And when he had a hard day you’d read it to him until he fell asleep, usually holding onto you like you might leave him in the middle of the night.

“Sounds like he felt a way about you, even if you didn’t about him.” Bucky responds, watching you tie your shoes.

“I feel like if that were the case things wouldn't have ended the way they did there.” You remark.

The silence that settles over the room has its own heartbeat. It’s like the both of you are stuck in some psychological thriller adaptation of the telltale heart.

“You ready to go?” Bucky asks, opening the door for you and letting you lead the way down the hall.

————————

Bob hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Walker had asked him to go see if you and Bucky were almost ready while he explained to his son why he has to wear shoes.

Bob was about to knock on the door when he heard you and Bucky and all the way to the aquarium he heard you.

If that were the case things wouldn’t have ended the way that they did.

Did you really think he didn’t have feelings for you then? Did you think he somehow used you? Did you feel used? Did he make you feel used?

He followed everyone else around as you all milled about the exhibits. You helped John with his son a lot, you stole bucky's attention a lot as well. Bob examined yours and Buckys relationship. He liked that you finally had a father figure who was seemingly as invested in you as you are in him.

He’d always wanted that for you, he never understood your father. The way you described the change in your fathers priorities made it feel like the change was overnight.

One day he loved you and read you bedtime stories and took you to movies, and the next you looked so much like your mother that he couldn’t look at you for too long for fear of seeing her reflected back to him.

You took Walkers son through the shark tunnel, and the little boy held onto you for dear life as he watched the creatures swim past.

At first the small boy would only let you and Walker hold him. Which made for a very irritating hour where Bob had to watch you interact with Walker like it was easy. You didn’t look at Walker like he sucked all of the air out of the room. Walker didn’t even seem to make you feel small compared to him, like he didn’t take up any space to you the way he did to everyone else. And so Bob watched you interact with the toddler like it was second nature, which had an effect on him he almost couldn’t describe.

His jealousy over your comfortability with Walker soon turned into a strange envy that almost consumed him for reasons he couldn’t quite describe.

And then, in that shark tunnel, you turned to Bob, an easy smile on your face that felt to him like water in a desert, “look at the stingrays! Like in Nemo!” You laughed and suddenly that strange, gnawing sensation Bob had been suffering from for what felt like ages, dissipated completely.

“These are a different kind of stingray than that.” Bob smiles and you shrug.

“If you say so, smartypants.” You beamed, bumping him with the hip you weren’t carrying the child on.

And then you walked away, leaving Bob in a sort of relaxed, flustered state.

When the two of you were first becoming closer Bob would spend saturdays at your house. The two of you would spend the morning in your room reading and talking until your dad and his girlfriend went out with friends or went on a date or something, and then you would cook dinner together and watch movies. Your dad had tons of DVDs but when Bob had a hard week you’d put on Nemo because he mentioned offhandedly once that he had a phase as a kid where he was really into marine biology.

So he would sit on the couch with you and the two of you would eat dinner while he told you random facts about different sea creatures that he just knew, like he’d been built with them. He used to think that you wouldn’t even be able to tell him what part of the movie you two were on because you never seemed to look away from him when he was talking, and those nights he barely ever shut up.

———————

Everyone’s kind of spread out, looking at different things. You’ve still got Walkers Kid, though every now and then you insist on Walker holding him so you can get a picture or Walker grabs him to put him on his shoulders to give your arms a break.

Walker stays close to the both of you, telling you offhand jokes and telling his son the names of the creatures, reading his son the plaques at each enclosure.

The small child refuses to let anyone else hold him for a while and he gets nervous whenever Alexei tries to approach him. Earlier Alexei thought it would be a good idea to tell a story about the time he supposedly fought a shark and he got kind of loud and aggressive and made the kid cry so Alexei ended up having to stay a few feet away so the kid wouldn’t fuss as bad.

Bucky is just fine not going near the kid. You think he’s scared of children.

Yelena points things out to him, slipping into Russian as she sometimes has a hard time remembering the English names of creatures. You chalked it up to a bilingual thing, because Bucky does the same thing every now and then in conversation with you. Just slips into another language or forgets a word in English and has to ask you and play charades until you know what he’s talking about.

It’s Bob that surprises you most. Bob didn’t really ever have any exposure to small children so he was kind of awkwardly fumbling when he had the boys attention but his knowledge of the creatures around him won out. He would randomly tell Walker a fact or point something out to the toddler and then give him an explanation that the kid probably wasn't fully understanding but he seemed to like the way Bob talked softly and with his hands.

Eventually Walkers son surprises you by reaching for Bob. Bob quietly freaks out, insisting that he probably shouldn’t be the one holding the child but then the toddler reaches over and plays with Bobs bangs and Bob immediately stops talking, instead responding to something the child is babbling. And when the small boy rests his head on Bobs shoulder Bob is done for. His initial nervousness and hesitation instead replaced with something quiet as he sways back and forth, completely oblivious to the look Bucky and Walker exchange at the way you just can’t help but smile at him.

And all of you completely miss Yelena taking a picture of the rest of you.

Bob holds the kid for the rest of the day, responding when he talks to him and sitting next to him when you all go out to dinner after.

He looks somewhat disappointed when you all get him and Walker takes the kid to get him ready for bed.

“Did you have fun?” You ask Bob as he watches Walker walk away.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Goodnight Robert.” You say quietly, just for him to hear.

You disappear into your room before he can respond.

————————

Bob liked your bedroom. He liked the Christmas lights that were arranged on the wall above your bed, he liked your bookshelves and the way your books influenced ghe smell of your room and therefore you.

But perhaps what he liked most was your bed. He sank into your mattress like he was falling back into a pool of warm water. And he loved how you read to him when he was in your bed.

The both of you had finished your dinner and cleaned up the kitchen, you watched two movies, Nemo (for Bob) and Anastasia (for you), and now Bob was lying in your bed, watching you get ready to go to sleep.

Bob didn’t want to go back home. His mom was with her mom who was sick so it was just his dad. Bob had been putting off leaving for the better part of the last couple hours.

You sat on the edge of the bed, lotioning your arms and legs, “well I’m about to go to sleep so either go home or get up to close and lock the door.”

Bob's eyebrows pinched together, “wait- like you’d let me stay here for the night?”

“Of course.” You smiled at him, “anytime. You could even take a shower if you’d like. Your hair looks like it could use a wash.”

Bob blinked slowly, “you are the patron saint of charity, you know that?”

“I’m glad you think so. I am serious about the shower though, I just washed my sheets.”

Bob took a shower and it smelt like you, all of the steam curling around to him and making its way into his lungs felt heavenly.

When he got out of the shower he saw a T-shirt that was probably twice his size and some old basketball shorts folded neatly with a towel on the toilet lid.

You must’ve put them in the bathroom before he took his shower. You probably knew he’d end up staying with you before you even finished the shower you’d take a half hour before.

When he got back to your room you were laying down with a book and you sat up as he walked in, “where’d you get these clothes?”

“Old ones my dad gave to me to sleep in.” You shrug and he starts looking around your room awkwardly, “do you need something?”

“I just want to know how this is gonna work?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just where am I sleeping?” He asks, rubbing his palms over the fabric of the borrowed shirt. You observed the way his wet hair fell onto his forehead. You tried to memorize it this way, you wanted this to be the picture you had in your head when you thought about him. When you got lost in thought on the walk to school in the mornings you wanted to be able to come back to this moment. You wanted the privacy to think of him in a way you could never admit to.

“You can sleep wherever you want, honey. Bed or floor or couch.” You shrug and Bob nods, hesitantly sitting with you on your bed, “do you want a comb?”

“Geez, do I look that bad?” Bob quips and you laugh.

“No I just thought you might like to fix your hair.”

“I’m okay.”

“Okay.”

You move the blankets so he can slip under them and once he does he turns to you, “whatcha reading?”

You show him the book cover and he sighs.

“I really like it, okay?” You whine and Bob laughs in a very real and true manner.

“I know you do.” He mumbles, reaching up to move your hair out of the way of your eyes as you begin reading again, “why don’t you read it to me?”

“You want me to read you a bedtime story?” You question and Bob nods.

“Pretty please?”

You sink further into your pillows and Bob lays down on his side facing you, drawing circles on the clothed skin of your shoulder.

Bobs eyes drift to the ceiling as he listens to the steady sound of your voice and for a second everything’s still.

It won’t be until later that Bob realizes that that was the first time in years he slept without meds or weed.

————————

Bob's hands are folded between his knees when he registers his consciousness. He’s so awake now that for a moment he doesn’t even think he was dreaming. He just thinks that he got to sit in that one moment again.

He gets up after a minute of laying there, holding his comforter around his shoulders. He heads into the hallway, going to the kitchen for a drink of water.

He downs two glasses of water before he hears it. He follows the voice down the hall and to your room where the lamp is on and the door is just barely open. When he came through the first time he just assumed you fell asleep with the lamp on but you’re very much awake.

Bob knocks lightly on the door and it startles you, for a second you look scared but then you realize that it’s just him. Only him. And then he hears the way your breathing hiccups and stutters.

“Do you need something?”

He stays quiet for a minute, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” You ask and he starts mumbling something to himself.

“Would you like to come in?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Bob mumbles and he closes the door behind him.

He stands there like he did in front of the restaurant. He just takes you in, consumes the sight of you like he’s been starved of it deliberately.

You’re wearing a T-shirt that falls far past your knees, you’re barefoot and your hair is mussed from tossing and turning.

After a moment of letting him look at you, he proceeds into your room and sits by your windows.

“Your view is much better than mine.” Bob says carefully.

“I wish it wasn’t. I don’t like the big windows.” You confess and Bob sits next to you, keeping a good distance between you. He looks around your room. It lacks the charm of your childhood room. The one he was so familiar with, the one that his brain brought him back into when he fell into heavy drug induced sleep in motels, under bridges or in alleyways. His attention is drawn to a pile of papers and paintings and postcards in the corner

“Why not? You can see everything.”

“That’s why I don’t like it. I wish it was like a shoebox. I’d be happy living in a shoebox.” Bob can’t help but smile at you.

“If you’re worried about anyone seeing you, the windows are pretty heavily tinted.” He assures you.

“Do you think anyone could actually see me from this high?” You sniffle and Bob shrugs, “so. How’ve you been?”

There’s a pause as Bob tries to decipher how much information your question requires, “I’m alright. I’m clean, have been for a little bit. And I live here and I’m supposed to be a part of the team and everything but I’m too unpredictable to actually help on missions and stuff.”

“You’re clean?”

“Yeah. The teams’ been pretty great at helping me out.” He starts picking at his thumb nail absentmindedly.

“That’s so weird. I don’t think I’ve ever known you sober.”

“That’s not true.” He argues, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m pretty sure you were high the entire two and a half years we knew each other.”

“No. No I was-I really was very present with you. I was sober for a good amount towards the middle of the end there.” He’s so firm about this that you can’t help but believe him.

“Like when?” You smile.

“That last homecoming you dragged me to, a good amount of our hangouts after a certain point in time, and the uh- the night we-“

“Oh. Yeah I- I knew you were sober that time. There was really no mistaking it just the once.”

The silence is palpable, you try your best not to think about then. Not to think about how he held you to him like the closeness of your body was better than any drug he’d tried, and not to think of what it was to have him like that, just yours for a pocket of time, truly and deeply devoted to you. But with those thoughts came the flashes of pain and something else, something carved deep into your brain that just wouldn’t leave, an ache with causes previously, naively unknown.

And he tried not to slip back into the memory of your warmth, or the taste of you on his lips, or the way you looked, hair sprawled out across the pillowcase as you each handed yourselves over to one another, the way your eyebrows pinched together as he gave you everything he was made up of.

And he did his best to pretend that he didn’t think about it often, that you hadn’t taken up permanent residence in his head for years.

“Did you plan on things going that way?” You somewhat selfishly inquire.

“Do you mean like the situation as a whole or just us almost sleepin-“

“Either.”

“Well um- I hadn’t, like, done anything- any meds or weed or uh, otherwise for like a week before we… you know and um, so when it happened I was there and present and every decision I made in that moment was just one hundred percent… me. And then later- after- I was gonna see you, I was- I showed up to your house and your dad was there and he told me to… stay away. He told me that your grades had been slipping and you’d been getting worse and that I should just stay away.” He’s quiet for a minute like he’s expecting you to butt in, “and so I- I distanced myself from you cause I didn’t want you to end up where I was. I couldn’t live with myself if I ended up being the reason you didn’t become something more.”

“Well,” you begin, taking in all of what he said, “for future reference, never listen to a word my father says.”

“Yeah, I uh- I think I’ve learned my lesson on that one.”

“I don’t want to hate you, Bob.”

“Well then at least we still have one thing in common.” Bob utters softly, resting his chin on his knees.

“I’m just having a hard time.” You admit, playing with the edge of the page you’re on in your book, “i'm so alone all the time I- I feel like I was born solitary. I haven’t really ever had friends and then I had you and then you- and then I didn’t. And I keep- I keep thinking that it’ll get better and I’ll stop feeling so alone but it doesn’t stop. I came here and took this job because I thought being around Bucky would help and I like it here so far but I still feel so lonely.”

“I get what you mean. I have- I’ve had the same problem.” Bob sympathizes, not knowing what else to say.

“I feel like a kid again. My only friend is my dad.”

That makes Bob smile a little, “is Bucky your dad in this scenario?”

You nod, “he’s the only person who’s tried to understand me and been somewhat successful. Sam tried using therapist tactics. I appreciated the effort but I can’t say they worked or made me feel any better.”

“I can try again if you’ll let me. I won’t leave this time, no matter who tells me what.” Bob assures you. There’s a desperation there that you can’t help but melt for.

“I’d like to believe that.” You mutter, “I’ll try to believe that.”

Bob looks out the window again so you don’t see him trying not to react, “are you feeling okay otherwise?”

You consider telling Bob about your dreams and the shadows and the hands. You want to give him an explanation for how things went before he went MIA, butyou don’t want to let him in anymore. Not yet.

“I just can’t sleep.” You shrug and Bob nods affirmatively.

“What are you reading?” He asks and you hold up the cover for him to see. He can’t help but smile wide, the cover of just kids staring back at him “of course.”

“I like it.” You shrug, sniffling.

“Yeah, me too.”

You rub your thumb across the page of the book, watching your finger drag over the soft texture of the paper.

“Can you read to me?” You ask, hushed and anxious.

“You want me to read you a bedtime story?” Bob smiles.

“Pretty please?” You whisper and bobs striding over to you before the last syllable even leaves your lips.

You move the blanket so he can join you under the covers and he layers his comforter over you. It envelops you in his scent in a way that brings you a kind of peace you haven’t felt in years.

Bob sits against your pillows, taking the book once you hand it to him and looking at you to make sure you’re comfortable. You surprise him by laying curled up with your head in his lap.

He opens the book to the page you had it at and begins reading, his fingers drawing lines up and down your arms as he waits for you to fall asleep.

———

[callsign-fox]

Keeping Secrets - John Walker/US Agent

Pairing: John Walker/US Agent x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Foreplay/Oral

Prompt: John tries to hide the fact that he got hurt on a mission—but things don’t go quite as planned when you find out. Or do they?

The room was quiet, the way it always was after a fight—not the kind of fight that ended with shouting or slammed doors, but the slow, aching kind. The kind where silence said more than words ever could.

Y/N lay on their bed, sprawled like a siren in his favorite black silk nightdress, pretending to read a book. Her legs were long and bare in the amber light of the bedside lamp, her expression set in that unreadable calm she wore when she was absolutely livid.

Walker stood in the doorway, watching her like a man already halfway into enemy territory.

He’d just come out of the shower, hair damp, sweat from the night’s job washed off—but not the guilt. That still clung to him like smoke.

She had seen it when he’d peeled his shirt off, finally. The angry red scar slicing across his side. A knife, deep enough to have needed stitches. She hadn’t said anything right away. Just stared before turning and leaving the room.

That was definitely scarier than her yelling.

It had been an hour. She hadn’t moved except to turn the pages of that book she wasn’t actually reading. She just lay there, silent, taunting him with her body and her indifference like it wasn’t a weapon.

Walker stepped in, shutting the bathroom door softly behind him. She didn’t look up.

“You’re not even reading that,” he said quietly.

“Yes I am.” Her voice was flat, clipped. The verbal equivalent of slamming a door in his face.

He crossed the room slowly, crawling onto the bed like a man approaching dangerous territory. Because he was. But she didn’t stop him—she just kept her eyes on the page, like he wasn’t already sliding between her legs.

“You’re mad,” he said against her knee, kissing just above it.

“No, Walker,” she replied, flipping a page she hadn’t read. “I’m furious.”

Another kiss, higher this time, on the inside of her thigh. She sucked in a breath but didn’t pull away.

“You got stabbed and didn’t tell me.”

“I got a cut,” he corrected, fingers pushing up the edge of her nightdress. “There is a big difference.”

She finally looked at him, the book dropping onto her chest. “Are you being serious right now? You think because you downplay it that it makes it better?”

He kissed her hip, then the soft skin above it, fingers grazing up her sides. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react exactly like this, and it was nothing.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“It was already healing—”

“How long?” she cut in, dropping the book beside her with a soft thud and finally looking down at him, fury and something else simmering behind her eyes.

He paused, caught in that moment between truth and deflection, his finger brushing lazily over her nipple through the thin silk. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t gasp. Just kept her gaze locked on his like she wasn’t unraveling beneath him.

“How long what?” he asked, pretending not to notice the way her chest rose just a little quicker beneath his hand.

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t play dumb. How long have you been hiding it from me?”

Walker didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand slid down, palm dragging across the dip of her stomach, fingers curling under the hem of her nightdress like he had all the time in the world.

She did a damn good job of pretending not to be turned on—legs stretched out, lips pursed in that tight, unimpressed line, not a flicker of emotion on her face. But he knew her better than that. Knew every tell, every shift in her breathing, every way her body betrayed her long before her mouth ever did.

If he touched her now—really touched her—he knew what he’d find.

Wet. Warm. Waiting.

Still, she played it cool. That stubborn, glorious pride in full swing.

“Three days,” he said at last.

She blinked. “You’re kidding.”

But he wasn’t. And when his fingers slipped between her thighs, finding heat and slickness like he knew he would, her jaw dropped in spite of herself.

“You absolute—”

She choked on a gasp as he pushed two fingers inside her with maddening confidence, a slow grin stretching across his face.

“Three days?” she bit out, hands fisting the sheets beside her. “You came home bleeding and just didn’t say a word?”

“I said ‘hi,’” he teased, voice low against her neck as he kissed his way down it, lips brushing her pulse, slow and deliberate. “Pretty sure that counts.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t murder you in your sleep.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he smirked, pumping his fingers slow and deep. “You’d miss me too much.”

“You overestimate your importance.”

“And yet your legs are wide open right now.”

She squirmed underneath him, hips giving away what her mouth wouldn’t. Her head stayed pinned to the pillow, expression set—like this wasn’t lighting her nerves on fire.

“Nothing? Not a peep?” he murmured against her skin. “That’s fine. I’ve got time.”

Walker came in with the killshot, thumb rubbing slow, excruciating circles over her clit. Her fingers dug into his shoulders then, nails pressing crescents into his skin.

“Fuck—You’re infuriating.”

“And you’re soaked.” He pulled back just enough to meet her glare, his smile maddeningly smug. “For someone who's furious with me, you're sure making it hard to believe.”

“You think this means I forgive you?”

“I think your body’s saying a hell of a lot more than your mouth is,” he said, curling his fingers just right, making her back arch against her will.

She hissed in frustration. “I should dump you. Find someone boring and safe. Who reports paper cuts.”

“Oh, please.” He chuckled against her chest. “You’d eat them alive.”

“They wouldn’t be as brazen as you.”

“They also wouldn’t make you come like I do.”

She opened her mouth, maybe to argue—maybe to say something sharp and clever—but then his mouth closed around her nipple through the silk and her breath hitched instead.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered, voice low and wrecked now.

“I really am,” he said, the nightdress pushed up so he could kiss her stomach. “Because if I didn’t have that going for me, I think you’d actually kill me.”

“You have no idea.”

But her tone had softened, even if her body still hummed with tension. He could feel it—anger knotted up with desire, a coil inside her just waiting to snap. She wanted to stay mad. She was mad. But she wanted him more.

“It just scares me,” she said after a moment, voice quiet now, brushing the edge of a confession.

Walker looked up at her, the teasing falling away, just for a second.

“I know,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry.”

He crawled back up and kissed her then—slow, honest, nothing cocky about it. Just the truth, pressed to her lips.

Her fingers slid into his hair again, not pulling now. Fingers brushing through the blonde strands as he moved back down to her stomach.

“Next time, you tell me.”

“I will.”

“Promise.”

“I swear.” His voice was rough. Real.

She rolled her eyes—barely—then let out a low gasp as his tongue replaced his thumb, warm and slow against her clit. Her hand flew to his hair again, gripping tight this time, like she couldn’t decide whether to push him away or drag him closer.

“Oh God—John.”

Walker groaned low in his throat like he was savoring her, like the taste of her was the only absolution he needed. And maybe it was. He worked her with a patience that bordered on sinful, tongue moving in slow, teasing strokes, then faster—his fingers sliding back inside her, curling just right, drawing little sounds from her throat she tried so hard to hold in.

“T—this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook,” she gasped, her hips lifting off the bed.

“Didn’t say I was,” he murmured against her, not letting up for a second.

“You’re just—trying to distract me—”

“Is it working?”

“Shut up and—oh fuck—”

Her head snapped back against the pillow, thighs trembling around his shoulders as he doubled down. Her hands fisted the sheets now, jaw slack, her breath turning ragged and fast. Her control shattered in pieces—glorious, breathless pieces—as he pushed her right to the edge and held her there.

“Come for me,” he whispered against her, voice rough. “Come on, baby. Let me have it.”

She broke for him in a rush, pleasure crashing through her like a wave, blinding and hot and perfect. Her body arched off the bed, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she clenched around his fingers, pulsing through every slow stroke of his tongue until she was trembling beneath him.

Walker didn’t move until the last of it had passed, until she sagged into the mattress, boneless and breathing hard.

Only then did he kiss the inside of her thigh, a soft press of lips like a seal on a promise. He crawled up her body slowly, curling beside her, brushing her sweat-damp hair off her cheek.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, his cocky grin gone for now—just him. 

She blinked at him, chest still rising fast, lips parted like she wanted to say something.

Then she shoved him lightly with the back of her hand. “You’re an idiot.”

He grinned. “Yeah. But I’m the idiot who just made you forget your own name.”

“…Temporarily,” she said, biting back a smile.

He kissed her forehead. “I’ll take it.”

[liiixsturniolos]

" m'sorry officer. "

dealer!chris sturniolo x cop!reader

(Readers name: Auriella/ Auri Robbins.)

warnings!: smut, (p into v), dom!chris, sex in a car, mentions of drugs. Car speeding (illegal do not imitate!!)

wc: 1.8k

◇ Your first day at your new job as a cop is quite eventful. You stop a reckless driver until you realise who it is, an old friend from high school, Chris Sturniolo. Reminders of your teengage years, lead to something that could definitely get you fired.

You gather your neatly folded pile of uniform, setting it down on your bed before you carefully button it up onto yourself, clicking your belt together. You walk over to your bathroom mirror and stare at the shiny new badge you have pinned to your royal blue shirt.

You feel proud. You made it. First day on the job, you're ecstatic.

Your boots click against the floor loudly, their shiny and new, not broken in yet. The tough leather is rubbing against the heel of your foot, but you ignore it and continue to walk toward the car your boss is sitting in.

"Good to see you again, Robbins." He tells you the same as every other morning at 7am sharp. Your day flies by fast. You don't do much, mostly just lounge around in the police car and nosy into minor drug cases, and hand out a few tickets, nothing that matters.

Dissatisfied with your uneventful day, you stroll back to the car, waiting patiently for your colleague to return from the store he was in. You bite your nails out of boredom, play with strands of your hair.

Anything that could satisfy your mind for even a minute would be nice.

You wanted to solve real cases. To stop someone dangerous or take down a big crime, something that would promote you and make your bosses proud. You didn't want to be sitting in an old dusty police car with stained leather seats and only arresting fourteen year old boys who thought they were cool for selling class B drugs from their school backpack.

It bored you quite frankly, and you wanted something real.

A car zooms past, and it had to have been over going over 90.

The echoing screech of the tires woke you up from your thoughts. "Fuck!" You shout, starting up the car.

You disregard your colleague in the store, push your foot down, and set off on a chase. It was a stupid idea in reality.

You should've gotten on your radio and called for someone else to intercept them. It's unlikely you'll catch up with the speeding car on your own.

Your lights are now blaring, the loud warning and red and blue lights flash rapidly as you speed down the road towards the car. Switching lanes and forcing him to pull over, you stop the car as he accepts his fate.

Feeling proud of your first real catch, you exit the car with pure euphoria flowing through your veins, your legs feel tingly, and you can't help but smile slightly as you walk up to the window.

The dark, tinted window rolls down slowly, "m'sorry officer." A familiar voice apologises from inside.

"You were speeding a lot." You emphasise the 'a lot' of your phrase hinting at the severity and wondering if you'd be getting a bonus for this or something.

The man's face is revealed as he turns his head to pass you his licence. "Chris?" You question, holding his licence closer to your face to check you weren't mistaken. "Oh shit! Auri, that you?" He realises.

"Damn, so you're a cop now?" He laughs, taking in the look of your full uniform and pinned up hair.

"Yeah, I am." You respond with a hint of an ego, proud of your achievement.

"That's crazy, I remember when you couldn't pass math." He chuckles.

"I might just give you two tickets for bringing that up." You tell him in a sarcastic tone.

"You wouldn't give me a ticket, would you Auri?" He tilts his head like a puppy.

"Well, you were speeding, fast- like really fucking fast." You say.

"Yeah, I know, m'sorry, let me off this time kay?" He asks, his hand placed on the wheel firmly and his eyes locked in on yours.

You wouldn't break. This was a serious offence. He could've crashed into someone. You have to take him in, or atleast give him a ticket.

He notices you thinking, your body turning stiffer and your arms more firmly crossed, he worries he won't get away with this.

"C'mon Auri, remember all the good times we had."

He says good differently, you knew why.

Just because you fucked once or twice when you were teens doesn't mean you owe him anything, you know that. But when he tilts his head at you, when he pleads a little, seeing his hand gripping the wheel...

The pressure broke you. You tell him you'll let him off this once, but if you ever see him do this again, he's not getting away with it.

"What are you doing driving out here alone anyway?" You question him.

"I just wanted to go for a drive alone, clear my thoughts n' stuff you know." He lies through his teeth.

You could tell he was making up an excuse on the spot, but you'd kind of stopped caring, distracted by him, his eyes, hands, you hadn't seen him in so long.

"You know, I've missed you, Auriella." He whispers.

You couldn't tell if this one was a lie or not.

You smile. "Let me take you for a drive, hm?" He asks.

"Is that one of your jokes?" You respond with a straight face.

"No. Seriously, c'mon Auri, like we used to. You used to let me drive you around fast, even before I had my licence." He smirks.

He was a terrible influence on you in your teenage years. He distracted you from your studies. Got you into a little weed every now and again and would drive you around in his dad's car that he'd steal.

In reality, he hadn't done that to you. Maybe you had. But you like to blame him, you'll never admit you were a little rebellious, you'll never admit you did illegal things, or that you'd fuck in the backseat of his car, it would be the opposite of your pristine, princess reputation.

"No, I gotta go. Let's just forget about this." You tell him sharply, turning away.

He grips onto your bare arm. You turn back your head, "Auri, one last time?" He asks of you.

Shit. Okay, now you had to go. He was looking all begging and cute like he used to. One last time right? Couldn't hurt hm?

You get into the passenger seat of his car and clip on your seat belt. He laughs hearing the click of it. You've become 'uptight' to him, not like you used to be. You've grown up, matured, he hasn't, he's still racing around.

The car speeds off, your head jolts backwards at the impact, and the car soon becomes steady but speeds up quickly.

You'd forgotten about the rush.

The euphoria, the butterflies you'd get, the feeling like you were floating as the car went 100 miles an hour. I was watching intently as the numbers went up higher on the screen. 60. 70. 80. 90...100 mph.

You were obsessed with it. It was an awful and dangerous thing, but that added to the excitement of it all, the wondering if that night was the night you were going to die. It was exhilarating. It made you so anxious. You loved it. You felt 17 again.

The car slows down, eventually coming to a stop as your smile fades and Chris' giggles stop. He looks at you, a dirty look. Something you faintly recognised as you'd tried to scrub it from your mind many times.

His hand lifts from the wheel to your face, he grabs it impulsively and rough like he used to, pushing his lips onto yours.

Your hands roam through his hair. He kisses you harder, rougher, and it reminds you of the way he used to. He pulls away, his lips now latched onto your neck, and he leaves kisses, as he whispers in your ear about how much he's missed you.

He's unbuckling his belt. You give in and do the same, "I missed you so much, I missed this so much too." He whispers.

Fuck. That was all you needed. He might as well have hypnotised you into jumping into the backseat with your pants off.

The next thing you know, that's exactly where you are. He's on top of you, lining himself up with your entrance, pushing his tip against you, sliding himself in slowly.

You moan out quietly, your eyes shut. "Open your eyes, Auri. I wanna you to look at me like you used to." He asks.

You lock eyes with him as he pumps himself deep into you, hitting the right spot repeatedly, untying a knot in your stomach you only just realised was there.

His sweating, bare chest is hitting yours. He bottoms out inside of you, the entirety of his dick, pushing as far in as he could go.

He gets rougher, something you won't admit you like too. He's practically ramming in and out of you, which was the dirty secret you loved.

Your eyes well up with tears. It's a weirdly nostalgic feeling as you come to your high, as euphoric as the drive earlier.

You feel your legs shake around him, the grunts he utters become quiet, as you're blinded by white spots clouding your vision, your eyebrows turning up, and your mouth hanging open wide.

His throbbing cock twitches inside of you, he coats you with warm, wet release as your back arches up at the feel of it, you join him.

You suddenly become aware of what you've done and where you are.

"This was bad." You say worriedly.

"The sex?" Chris scoffs, his eyes wide open.

"No-no, not that.. this. I'm gonna get fired, Chris!" You yelp out.

"I'm sure you won't. I'll help you come up with a lie for why you were gone, trust me." He insists.

You can barely hear him talking over your fast beating heart and your raspy breath as you pull up your underwear. All you can think about is what you'll tell your boss. That you ran off to go on a fast drive and fuck an old friend?

Chris grabs onto your shoulders with his hands, "Listen, I'm good at lying. I'll get you out of this kay?" He reassures you.

Your eyes are darting around until they fixate on something, something you hadn't noticed before, being too busy to see, bags in the trunk of the car.

You lift your head up to see what's in the trunk. You let out a gasp.

"Chris are you fucking kidding me!" You scream.

"Shush, shush-fuck Auri, chill." He shushes you and turns you away from the drugs which are resting in his cars trunk.

"Drug dealer? Chris for real?" You mumble, his hand over your mouth.

"Yes, quit freaking out about it, God." He begs.

"You're a drug dealer and you thought it would be appropriate to fuck a police officer!" You yell.

"Oh my god, Auri! Quit screaming it to everyone!" He pleads.

"This is insane." You tell him, your eyes wide open, staring at him.

"Listen, maybe we can hatch a little agreement, okay?" He starts...

That's it for today! Please comment/tell me if you want a part two to this! Please also interact if you liked this. Thank you for reading cutiesss!!

Taglist: @matthewsroses @chrislilcumslvt @pvssychicken @ivysturnss @mattsbitchh @sturniolo-fann @matts-myloverboy @emely9274 @sophand4n4 @uncannyguava @certifiedstarrr @chrissweetheart

[remlionheart]

Split Decision

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦ ˚ *

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ i woke up this morning w a slutty, feral, urgent need for some soukoku x fem!reader smut and this fic just kinda poured out of me (literally), 3.7k words. porn with a plot. (hope u like it nasty) you're an intern, ending your last day in Yokohama when you're approached at the hotel bar by two men who have one very pressing question for you: red or white wine? i was melting into an actual puddle writing this so lemme know whatcha think, luv u ♡ (and as alwaaayysss, thank u to the loml @bratbby333 for proofreading and being just as fucking pumped for this to come out as i was ♡) *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

You were tired, exhausted after a day filled with meetings that you barely contributed anything to. You were grateful for your internship, happy that it held the promise of a job right after graduation but being in Yokohama for the last two days had been a bit lackluster.

You sat at the bar of your hotel with lazy, muffled jazz music dancing around you as you fiddled with the straw in your empty cocktail glass.

The trip itself hadn't been all bad. The days were long, but you'd managed to make the most of your nights. The firm you were interning for was gracious enough to make it an all-expenses paid trip and you'd definitely taken full advantage of that over the last week.

You'd spent your nights in the most upscale restaurants the city had to offer, taking yourself on little dates to pass the time. You'd found yourself sitting alongside powerful businessmen and prominent executives that made you feel important even though you were still very much on the outskirts of their social circles. You had been a fly on the wall, quietly observing a world that you could only hope to one day be a part of.

It'd been a learning experience if nothing else. A secret glimpse into how rich men behaved when they thought no one was watching. There was something intoxicating about it all. Something that made you want to try harder when you got back home. You were determined to have this sort of life for yourself one day and you would.

That's what made being responsible tonight all the more important. Your flight back home was set to leave at 6 am. Your bags were already packed and waiting for you in your room. As tempting as it was to venture out into the city again, you needed to be well-rested and level-headed when you woke up tomorrow. So, you'd kept your promise to yourself and settled on slipping into your last clean black dress and grabbing a few drinks at the hotel bar to end your makeshift vacation.

Your legs dangled from your stool, the strap of your dress slipping down your arm as you yawned. The bar had been mostly vacant all night. People passing by, but never actually staying for more than one drink. The vintage grandfather clock at the corner of the room watched you tauntingly, another sway of its heavy arms indicating that it was nearing midnight.

You knew it was time to head back. Your hand reached out to bell for the bartender when two opposing, but equally powerful drinks were suddenly placed at either side of you.

A deep, rich red wine on your left and a deceptively alluring white wine on your right. Your eyes hesitantly drifted between the two men that were now occupying the seats next to you, the warmth of their bodies radiating off of them as they sized you up.

"Which one will it be, angel?" His voice was like velvet, a dangerous smirk creeping across his face as his brown eyes met you. His partially bandaged fingertips slowly pushed the Chardonnay towards you. "You look like a woman of good taste. Honestly, I think you'd like this one much better."

A gloved hand rested on the small of your back, gently turning you around to face him instead. His disheveled red hair and azure gaze were hard to ignore as he nudged the Cabernet closer to you. "Tch, you're too pretty for that cheap shit." He smirked. "Besides, I bet you're wantin' something that would hit way deeper than that, right?"

Your breath was suddenly lodged in your throat, an ache burning between your legs at the sheer shamelessness of it all.

The brunette's smile was piercing, his stare slicing into the man on your left as he let out a low laugh. "You've always had quite the imagination, haven't you Chuuya?" His eyes maintained the same sharpness, dragging back to yours with fervor. "I think what she really needs is something that would leave her begging for more and that's not something that measly little sweet red of yours would do."

The air between the three of you was suddenly suffocating.

You crossed one leg over the other, finding yourself actually having to clench while they carried on with their salaciously threatening banter. Their fingers roaming along your back and the top of your hand. Both inching closer and closer, still spilling out corrupt little nothings about which one would taste better going down your throat and which one would fill you up until there was no more room left.

You needed to be in bed. You needed to keep your wits about you. You needed to tell them both that you didn't have time for this, but your insides were on fire the harder they fought over you.

After being ignored at every meeting you'd gone to this week and being nothing more than a wallflower at the dinner parties you'd attended, having two admittedly depraved but attractive men competing over you like this was enough to make you forget about trivial things like time and responsibilities.

They were still going on. Still gently petting and praising you while their insults towards each other grew heavier and headier.

Your blood rushed through your veins as you looked down at the contrasting wines sitting in front of you. You knew the minute that you took a sip of either, your fate would be sealed for the night. You'd be declaring yourself to one of them. The only smart option you had would be to push both drinks aside, to choose yourself, and to leave the two of them to carry on with their degenerate rivalry with the next unsuspecting girl that waltzed in here.

But you weren't going to settle for either.

As you glanced between them, it dawned on you that there was an alternate, much more menacing 4th option at your disposal.

Their voices came to a pause when they noticed your hand finally raise, hovering directly in the center of the two glasses. Your eyes danced from the brunette back to Chuuya, a hazy smile pulling at the corner of your mouth despite the fact that your heart felt like it was capable of ripping straight through your chest at any given second.

You rested your palm over both, letting your middle finger slide into the Cabernet and your index finger slide into the Chardonnay in perfect unison.

The tension was palpable as they watched you slowly pull out and bring them to your lips. You cocked your head to the side, your tongue generously gliding against the mixture of red and white before you brought them all the way into your mouth, spit slightly dribbling down your chin while you looked between the two men.

A smile cut across your face as you noticed the two sets of blown out pupils staring back at you. "Does that answer your question?"

"No," Chuuya was the first to break the silence. "No fuckin' way am I letting that asshole anywhere near the same room as us."

But it only seemed to pique the brunette's interest more.

A grin that could rival that of the devil's began to pull at the corner of his mouth. "Oh c'mon, Chuuya. You're really gonna deny this angel what she wants?"

"Don't start with me, Dazai." he snarled, his eyes softening a bit when they reached yours. "Look, I'd love to fuck you, but -"

Dazai took full advantage of the redhead's decision to opt out, spinning your barstool towards him so that your back was abruptly facing Chuuya before he could even finish his sentence. "Well," he smirked with a dangerous sense of wit in his voice. "Guess that just leaves us then."

"Wait a minute, that's not how this works!" Your chair was once again being flung in the opposite direction. A gloved hand gently cupping yours as he tried to reason with you. "You're gorgeous, y'know that, right? Even if you end up leavin' by yourself, I promise it'd still be better than endin' up with that mackerel over there."

It should've been an insult. In fact, you were certain that it was an insult, but for some deranged reason, it made Dazai all the more persistent to get you what you had originally asked for.

"Okaaay, okaayy." He conceded as he stood up. "There's no need for petty nicknames. If you're too self-conscious to share a beautiful woman's body with me, that's all you have to say."

"Self-conscious?" The edge in Chuuya's tone only gave Dazai what he wanted. "I'm not self-conscious, you arrogant bastard. I just don't trust you."

Dazai leaned into your ear, his hand shielding his mouth though his voice was far from a whisper. "It's because of his height, I'm afraid. Quite sad really."

"Alright, cut the shit." It was enough to finally bring the redhead to his feet.

He stood up, grabbing your hand to help you off your chair, eyes now locked firmly with yours. "You really want us to fuck you?" He asked, completely ignoring the absolutely vile smirk Dazai was sporting.

A mix of fear and arousal pooled between your thighs as you realized that this was your one chance to back out.

You looked between the two of them one last time before promptly grabbing the drinks that were left on the counter and knocking them both back one right after the other.

"My room or yours?" You asked.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The three of you had ended up in Chuuya's suite which was at least three times the size of your room. It was lofty, decorated with high-rise windows that were covered by thick, black privacy curtains. His king-sized bed made up in pristine white sheets that you feared would soon be ripped to shreds with the way the two of them could barely share the same elevator without almost killing each other, let alone share you.

Chuuya took off his gloves and hung his coat in the closest next to Dazai's as you slipped out of your heels and left them by the door. Your heart was suddenly in your throat now that you were actually here.

You were still by the entryway, not entirely sure how this was going to start while Chuuya went around and began dimming the lights, making a snide comment about how the less he had to see of Dazai, the better. The brunette just smirked, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, motioning for you to join him.

He spread his legs, lightly guiding you to stand in front of him as he kissed the back of your hand. His brown eyes trailed over you intently, his slender fingers tracing along the curve of your hip. "No need to be nervous," he whispered, tangling his free hand into yours.

There was something so tantalizing about the way he was looking at you. Eager but thorough, like he wanted to memorize every single inch of you. "See how pretty she is, Chuuya?"

You felt him approach you from behind, his calloused hands holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail while his breath fanned across the top of your shoulder. "Care if I unzip this?" he asked, his lips pressing softly against the side of your neck as you nodded. He continued to kiss and nip at you, carefully dragging the zipper down your spine before letting it fall to the floor.

"Fuck."

It was perhaps the one thing that they'd agreed on all night.

Dazai had the full-frontal view of you and Chuuya had the back. You were on full display for them both due to the fact that you'd opted for no bra or panties when you'd left your room earlier, thinking that you'd be coming straight back anyway. What a lie that had turned out to be.

Dazai's hand roamed along your stomach, goosebumps dancing across your skin as his fingertips dipped a bit lower. Chuuya's mouth was still on the nape of your neck, his grip tightening around your hips, drawing the poutiest little whimpers out of you.

"And to think you almost made us pass this up." Dazai taunted. "That would've been suuuch a shame."

"Shut up." Chuuya grunted, pulling you closer so that your ass was flushed perfectly against him. Your back arched feeling how hard he was, another little noise you couldn't quite control escaping you.

Dazai raised an eyebrow at this, realizing how easy it was to make you squirm.

"Oh, our girl's sensitive, isn't she?" He smirked, his fingers making their way to your center, just barely touching the outside of your folds. "Hmm," He hummed, surveying your desperate, dripping cunt. "What kind of sounds do you think she'll make if I do this?"

His finger ran along your clit, only giving you a moment to adjust to the sensation before he immediately plunged it inside of you.

"Nngh ~!" You whined, ramming yourself further into Chuuya's bulge. He held you steady, stuck somewhere between severely hating that Dazai had made you moan like that and fucking loving that you did it while grinding against him.

"Aw, look at that. I think she likes you, Chuuya." Dazai mocked, sliding into you again without warning, jealousy washing over him at how you were holding onto the redhead for support.

He went deeper, adding in another finger, to redirect your attention down to him as you mewled. "Feel good, angel?" he asked through heavy lashes.

You nodded back at him so pitifully, it made him groan, rubbing his thumb against your clit as his other two digits continued their assault on you.

You felt Chuuya undoing his belt behind you, his pants quietly dropping to the ground.

"You're doing so good," he praised into the softness of your neck, stroking himself with one hand and palming at your chest with the other. Squeezing a nipple between his fingers as you filled the room with more heavenly noises. "Think you can do me a favor, baby?" His voice felt like blissful static against the shell of your ear.

"M -" you struggled, your eyes nearly crossing at Dazai relentlessly hitting your g-spot. "Mhmmm." you finally managed.

"Can you bend over f'me?"

You tried your best to comply, but Dazai wasn't making it easy. In fact, he was making it impossible. Every time you tried to move, he'd go deeper, practically pulling you towards him from the inside with the curl of his long fingers.

Your vision was blurry, your body forgetting how to move altogether as the two men fought over you like you were a toy that they were willing to break in half as long as it meant the other person couldn't have it anymore.

"I -" you whined, noticing the absolutely feral smirk spread across Dazai's face. "I'm gonna - fuck, I can't -"

As much as Chuuya wanted to murder him for making you cum first, he knew his turn was next and he was going to fuck you into oblivion. "I've got you." he breathed, still playing with your nipple and holding you in place. "You're okay, baby. Let it out. Oh, just like that. Good fuckin' girl."

Dazai panted as you soaked his fingers, greedily trying to draw another one out of you before Chuuya intervened. "Alright, enough." he said, carefully pulling you away from him. "Here." he said, guiding you so that your ass was arched up for him and your face was on the mattress.

He was just about to put it in when Dazai stopped him, swiftly wriggling himself out of his pants before sitting on the edge of the bed again and placing your head above his dick.

Chuuya ran a frustrated hand over his face, the last fucking thing he wanted to see was your pretty mouth wrapped around Dazai while he was inside of you, but he knew he didn't have a choice.

"Be easy on her," he warned him.

You looked up at Dazai with glazed over eyes as he smiled down at you, proud of his work. "You know I wouldn't hurt you, right angel?"

Your pussy throbbed at the way he was able to make such a reassuring question feel so sinister.

His cock was long and thick and you were quickly realizing just how hard it was going to be to not choke on it. You started off slow, letting him tangle his hand into your hair as you lolled your tongue out and pressed it against him.

"Oh, fuck." Dazai groaned watching you make your way up to his tip, graciously opening your mouth wider to accommodate him.

Chuuya was wildly annoyed but not at all surprised at how vocal Dazai was. He blocked it out by rubbing his tip between your folds, reeling in the way your back arched for him as he softly massaged your abused little clit.

You were moaning, doing your best not to lose your concentration from how intoxicatingly tender Chuuya was handling you.

Whereas Dazai had practically bullied an orgasm out of you, Chuuya was prepared to play the long game. He'd fuck you slow and deep for hours if that's what you wanted. He was determined to make you feel so good you wouldn't be able to remember any other words besides his name.

Once he was satisfied with how wet both of you were from your cum, Chuuya lined himself up with your entrance. "You ready baby?"

"Y - yes." You struggled, Dazai only letting you come up for air for a second before your head was promptly pushed back down again.

You whimpered, completely forgetting what you were doing when Chuuya entered you. His cock stretching you out more than you knew you were capable of. "Oh - mygod." You choked out, eyes pleading as you looked back at Dazai.

Surprisingly, he wasn't jealous. Wasn't instantly shoving your head back down to get you to focus on him. He was in a euphoric daze seeing how fucked-out you looked. Your eyes were full-on watering, your pussy wrapped so tight and snug around Chuuya.

Dazai's grip in your hair lightened, pulling you up but only so he could watch you from a better angle. He held your head in one hand and began stroking himself with the other. "Oh, angel. You love being fucked like that, don't you?"

You nodded pathetically, completely overstimulated by the feeling of Chuuya pounding into you and the beautiful sight of Dazai jerking himself off to you getting railed. "Say it." He smirked. "Use your words."

Chuuya groaned, it was the first time all night that he wasn't tuning Dazai out. His hips thrusted into you harder as you whined. "I - love." Your eyebrows knitted together, your mouth dropping open at how deep Chuuya suddenly was. "I love - it." You cried out. "I love it so fu - cking much."

Chuuya wasn't sure if Dazai was trying to hurt or help him by coaxing such depraved things out of you, but he was lost in the sound of your moans.

Your legs began to shake, your cunt pulsating as Chuuya's tip knocked against your cervix. "I -" your head shook, you felt like you were going to pass out. "I can't - s'too much, I'm gonna -"

"Let me feel it, baby." It was almost more of a beg than a command. "Let me feel that pretty pussy soak my cock."

Dazai's breathing hitched in his throat watching the two of you. The tears that were spilling down your pretty face and the guttural noises you were forcing out of the redhead so effortlessly. The way neither one of you were coherent anymore, too lost in the way your bodies were aching for one another to know anything else.

Dazai wasn't sure why it was doing this to him. Wasn't sure why he couldn't stop himself, but just as you started to cum, he did too. He shoved your mouth back around him, reveling in the shock and pleasure and absolute awe on your face as you swallowed every last drop he shot into your mouth.

Your body felt like it was convulsing. The three of you had somehow all managed to reach your climax in perfect, lewd, synchronicity. Dazai's cum was pooling down your chin while Chuuya filled you up from behind. A combination of both of your fluids mixing together and then squirting out of you when he finally pulled out with a heavy, "Oh, FUCK."

You collapsed into Dazai's lap, your legs refusing to hold you. Chuuya helped pull you up onto the bed as the three of you fell into the mattress with a thud. You laid in the middle of them, your head rested peacefully against Dazai's chest as you tried to stop the room from spinning.

"And you told me to go easy on her." Dazai mused, running his fingers through your hair.

Chuuya rolled over on his side, wrapping his arm around your waist as he placed a kiss on the back of your neck. "'Least I didn't get off watching her get railed by another dude." he sneered.

"Yeah, you're right." Dazai tsked, "Only thing that could've made it better is if it was by a taller man."

"Dazai, I swear to god -"

But their bickering came to a quick end when you began to shift against them.

"Hey," you mumbled dreamily, causing both of them to immediately revert back to petting you and leaving light kisses along your skin. "Could you shut the fuck up? I've gotta be up at 5 tomorrow to catch my flight."

Chuuya smirked and set an alarm on his phone. Truthfully, he was willing to let you talk to him however you wanted with what you'd done to him tonight.

He reluctantly pulled the comforter up over the three of you. As much as he didn't want Dazai in his room for another minute, you looked too content to move.

You had never felt more safe or secure than you did being smushed between the two of them. Their words were hazy as you began to doze off, two sets of strong arms wrapped around you.

"Y'know, I think I'll kinda miss her." Chuuya breathed.

"Me too," Dazai smiled, looking down at you. "She's our girl."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[xmalereader]

Miguel O’Hara X Black Cat! Male Reader

-

|| Masterlist ||

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Authors Note: Took some inspiration from Felicia Hardy and Selene Kyle, let’s be honest Selene is my mother and will let her whip me whenever she wants 😌, so why not make this shot full of sass and perhaps some slight sexual tension? Also all Spanish words are correct, I am fluent in Spanish and Latino myself!

Summary: Every universe had a black cat, weather it ends in a good or bad outcome every Spider-Man had at least experienced being around a black cat. Miguel had his own variant back at his universe, but his story with black cat is interesting.

Warnings: ATSV Slight Spoilers! Some angst, mentions of time travel, breaking and entering, kissing, language, Miguel is tired, mentions of past divorce, mentions of Gabrielle, timeline, loop holes, miles wants to be adopted, reader is trying to bring hell, reader is protective of Miles, breaking the rules, toxic Miguel, Toxic reader, a negative plus a negative is a positive.

Word count: 4.1K

— || Part Two || Part Three ||

—

Noir didn’t know why he enjoyed watching the kid mess up, but it brought some joy into his daily task. Here he is standing on the edge of a roof top, staring down at the city’s number one hero trying to get himself untangled from his own webs. Both he and the little spider in red and black were chasing each other throughout the entire city, nearing midnight he was caught by the cities hero stealing a very valuable gem that was worth thousands, good enough for Noir to steal. How could he not? Now, after hours of chasing here he stands, head tilted in disappointment as he watches the little spider trying to escape his own webs after a malfunction in his own creation.

“Now this goes—wait, no…”

Noir tilts his head back, signing deeply to himself as he tucks the gems into his pocket before jumping down from the building and landing in front of the kid. He was a thief, not some cruel person who’s going to leave this poor kid stuck. “Kid—“

“I got it! I got it! Just have to—AH!”

The kid only get himself tangled into the web even more, causing the thief to roll his eyes, using his own claws to cut thought the webbing like it was nothing. The little spider looks around in surprise and smiles under his mask. “Hey, that worked!”

“Indeed it did.” Noir mocks him back, rolling his eyes from underneath his goggles.

“Now, I’m turning you in—!”

Noir holds his hand up to cut the kid off, pinching the bridge of his nose with a deep sigh. “Kid, we’ve done this too many times. We all know that you’ll never be able to get me so just let it go and go after someone who is actually causing harm.” He give the kid a pointed look before using his grappling hook to get back to the roof top and continue his way back home. Only for the kid to follow after him, he expects himself to get into a fight with the kid again, knowing that he would win the fight and end things quickly.

“Wait! Look, I get that what you’re doing isn’t entirely dangerous nor are you harming anyone but, why do it? Why steal when you can just get a job?”

Noir’s eyes widen and bursts out laughing, shaking his head as the kid stares back confused. “Get a job? Kid, I did have a job but, no matter where I worked it was never enough to survive. Not everyone has an easy life and if you have to take some risks then take it. You can try and stop me all you want, kid. But, it won’t make things better.”

The kid stays silent, taking in his words as Noir brushed past him and makes his way towards the other side of the roof.

“Wait!”

Noir sighs, hand on his hip and looks over his shoulder to see the kid standing his distance. “I’ll stop coming after you.”

That causes him to raise a brow, confused and surprised by the kids sudden words, before he could ask why the kid speaks up. “If you teach me how to fight.”

Of course.

That’s how the two have been getting along after a year of teaching the kid how to defend himself, he was new to the whole hero thing and Noir was the only one who was able to teach him a thing or two. It was rare for him to connect with people who weren’t trying to kill him or let alone take him to prison for stealing something valuable of theirs.

Currently both of the two are sitting on top of a clock tower, the kid eating some pizza while Noir sips his morning coffee, watching the sunrise after spending all night training the kid on how to land his punches. “Isn’t it too early for you to be eating that stuff?” He mumbled out, getting the kids attention who turns to him with a stuffed mouth full of pizza.

“…no?”

Noir chuckles at the kid. “Don’t come to me if you start getting heartburn.” He mumbled around his coffee cup before taking another sip, focusing on the view ahead. The two spend most mornings like this, eating ‘breakfast’ together and enjoying each others company. The kid had stopped trying to get him arrested and each time Noir was caught stealing he always made it out without an issue.

He’s known the kid for a year now and he’s grown onto him. The last time he was around someone he cared about he ended up losing everything and always pushed people away from getting too close, but the kid always found his way back into his life. Noir breaths softly, glancing at the kid who had just finished his box of pizza and closed the lid while whipping the grease from his fingers onto his suit, causing the older man to grimace at his manners.

“All done, so what’s the training today?” The kids voice is full of enthusiasm which causes Noir to chuckle. “No more training.” He sets his coffee cup to the side and stands from sitting on the edge of the clock tower, towering over the kid who tilts his head back, staring at his second mentor. “You’re ready to do things on your own and I am done here.”

“Wait what?” The kid tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean your done here? Are you leaving?”

Noir placed a gentle hand on the kids shoulder. “You’ll do fine on your own, I taught you nearly everything I know. I’m clearly not needed anymore and I have business to attend somewhere else.” Noir was reaching a deadline with his stay here with the kid and had to move onto his next task, wanting to avoid bringing the kid anymore trouble that he’s already dealing with alone in this city.

The little spider before him doesn’t know how to react to this situation, clearly not happy with the outcome but knowing that he can’t do anything about it. “Will you be back?” He asks.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Noir shrugs his shoulders, sighing deeply to himself. “I don’t know…” He really didn’t, one moment he’s here and the next he’s gone. That was his plan and always has been.

Noir can see how bummed out the kid is and can’t help but, pull the kid into a gentle hug. “I’m ever around I’ll make sure to meet you. Perhaps during one of our usual chases.” He gets the kid to chuckle at his humor before the two pull apart. He’s staring at the kid with a sad smile, with a clawed index finger he bops the kid on the nose or where he thinks his nose is at due to him wearing the mask.

“Take care of yourself kid.”

“I’m not a kid…”

Noir chuckled. “You’ll always be a kid.” He picks up his empty coffee cup, making his way over to the ledge of the clock tower, facing his back towards the kid before looking over his shoulder to give the kid one last advice. “Don’t let anyone tell you what you can’t do, remember that.”

With that he jumps off the tower, leaving the kid on his own to continue on his own path.

Noir already planned to leave this place and couldn’t delay it any longer before he finds him. Upon arriving to his apartment, he slips through the window undetected from the neighbors and slips off his tinted goggles along with his gloves, letting out a deep exhale as he looks around the semi empty apartment that he was only planning to use for a short period of time.

He toss the gloves to the side and keeps the rest of his uniform on as he works around the apartment, collecting certain things to take with him while the other stuff he stuffed inside a trash bag, clearly not needing that stuff any longer and tossing it out the window, where it landed down below and into the dumpster.

Once the apartment is fully empty he reaches inside the bag he was planning on taking with him, unzipping the front pocket and pulling out a silver bracelet. He stares at the blank screen, knowing that once he turns it on he will be traced, only giving him a few minutes to plan his escape. He zips up his bag and slips on his goggles again along with his gloves, slipping the bracelet over his wrist and with his index finger he taps on the blank screen, watching it turn on, activating.

“Five minutes.” He whispers to himself as he quickly types in Earth-42502, watching as a portal opens before him.

Adjusting his goggles, he takes a step forward only to freeze in place when another portal opens behind him. “The hell?” He looks over his shoulder, eyes widening under the goggles as a flash of red and blue zips towards him. He doesn’t have time to think as a hand wraps around his throat, knocking him back into the other earth.

The two are free falling through the air, grunting as his hand finds the others wrist and glares. He’s quick to use his strength, kicking him off as they continue to fall. “That was faster than usual.” He calls out, getting the other spiders attention who glared under his mask.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive to Earth-42502, portal opening onto the roof top of Oscorp Tower. Noir lands gracefully, but is quick to jump out of the way when the other spider lands where he once stood.

“Here I thought I’d never find you.”

Noir remembers that voice too well, remembering the days that the two would wake up next to each other.

“Seems like your desperate to find me.” Noir speaks up, taking cautious steps back as his eyes follow Miguels large figure. The man showed off his talons, taking dangerous steps forward as if stalking his prey.

“Let me guess, you were waiting until I activated this little guy, huh?” He raised his left arm to show off the bracelet he wore. The same bracelet that once belonged to Miguel and that he was able to snatch from during the time he was running away from Miguel. “Lyla’s not good at tracking.” He adds with a grin on his face.

“At least she found you before you can even open a portal to this earth. An earth that you don’t belong too.” Miguels voice is full of irritation, tired of having to chance Noir from different universes each time he disappeared off the radar.

“I know where I belong.”

Noirs voice drops down to a serious one, glaring under his own goggles as he takes steps back, slowly stepping on top of the ledge. “I’m not going back to that place, not after what you did.” He spits out.

“I was only trying to fix things.” Miguel sneers.

“By destroying a universe for our daughter? A daughter that wasn’t ours.”

“She was!”

“She belonged to another version of us and not us.” He points between himself and Miguel. The two have been chasing each other since day one, Miguels cannon affected him badly, causing him to lose his own child. Miguel had tried to find ways to fix it by going to other universe in hopes of getting their lives back together again only to mess things up badly and to cause a whole universe to be destroy. Their constant arguing grew worse as the days went on the two couldn’t be in a room together without trying to tear each other apart, leading to a divorce between the two. Well, a divorce wasn't really an option due to their universe being gone and instead was considered a break up between the two without having to sign he paper work.

In the public’s eye they were seen as married still. For them, they were separated.

Noir didn’t start stealing until after he stole Miguel’s bracelet, finding a way to stop Lyla from tracking him down and using it to escape from the man he loved. Giving himself a new life, stealing from every universe and only causing trouble for Miguel due to the constant anamolies being placed in the wrong universe, only giving the man extra work on getting it fixed.

You could say that it was Noirs way of showing revenge for all of the times Miguel blamed him for trying. Earning himself a reputation and treating it like a game.

“Y/n—“

“I don’t have time for you, right now.” Y/n hissed out, turning around and jumping off the building, getting Miguel to panic all of sudden and run after him, jumping off and diving down to wrap his arm around Y/n’s waist and using his talons to grip onto the side of the building also using his webs to hold on.

“What—?”

“I’m not letting you go that easy.” Said Miguel, grinning under his mask as Y/n’s eyes widen at the realization.”Don’t you dare!” Y/n uses his own claws in a threatening way only for Miguel to ignore his threatens, getting Lyla to open a portal back to their earth and quickly dropping his (ex) husband down the portal. Only for Y/n to land inside Miguels little anomaly prison as one of his traps is set around him, caging him inside a tight space as he tried to use his claws to claws his way through.

It wasn’t until Miguel drops down in front of him. The two could easily be face to face if it wasn’t for the barrier stopping them. “You’ll stay here until everything is fixed and then you can scream and yell all you want.” Said Miguel a hand on his own hip as his mask dissolves away, showing his real face to Y/n who frowned. “You can keep me here all you want, but I will always find a way out.” He was testing him.

This wouldn’t be the first time that he was trapped under Miguels watch, he’s escaped plenty of times before and he will do it again.

Miguel chuckled deeply. “Oh, mi amor. This time it’s different, because I’m going to make sure that I have a close eye on you twenty-four seven.” He looks over his shoulder to nod at one of the spiders from his society who turns around to type away on their computer. All of sudden Y/n is transformed to Miguels lab, appearing in the room in a flash as he yelps in surprise.

“Jesus…” He breaths out in surprise a hand over his beating heart as he falls back onto his bottom. “A heads up would have been nice.”

“Stop being annoying and be quiet.” Said Miguel, circling him like prey and focusing back on his work. Y/n grins, reaching up to push his goggles up and over his head. “Listen, cabeza de mierda. You brought me here in order to keep an eye on me, but never did you say that I couldn’t annoy you.”

“I—“

“So, I won’t stop talking your ass off until you let me go.”

Miguel stares down at his husband, knowing the man well enough to know that he was keeping that promise. The taller spider sighs in annoyance, already regretting his choice as Y/n grins at him and leans back against his elbows and crossing his leg over the other, lying down as he groans out loudly.

“Who would have thought, the two of us together again. After a year? Damn, it’s already been a year, I remember you slamming into a wall when chasing me through Earth-6574. God, the anger in your eyes was so satisfying!”

Miguel tried to focus on his work, ignoring the mans words as he continues on, rambling on about anything that will annoy Miguel until the man gives in.

The conversation went for hours, with Y/n changing positions every few minutes, one minute he’s lying down and the next he’s sitting. Another time he’s doing a handstand in the small space he’s trapped in or using his claws to try and penetrate the force field around him only to fail. He didn’t stop until he suddenly grew bored, lips sealed as Miguel finally takes in the peaceful silence, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“There it is.”

Miguel snaps his head towards Y/n, already knowing his plan.

“Enjoyed your five seconds of peace and quiet? Because, I was just getting started.”

Miguel wants to shout, opening his mouth to throw back an insult only for him to be disturbed by the sound of people entering his lab, getting his attention. Y/n also looks over to the group of teens approaching them, one specific teen getting the thief’s attention as he narrows his eyes, focusing on the curly hair and dark skin until his eyes widen in realization.

“Miles?”

Even though he’s only known the kid for a year and had trained him on the side, he knew who the kid was under the mask, but never said anything. Not wanting to freak the kid out. Whenever the kid wasn’t hiding behind the mask, Y/n would keep a close eye on the kid, making sure that he was focusing on school and attending his family diners and parties, somehow feeling responsible for the kids disappearance each time he skipped classes or lunch only to meet up with enthusiasm, excited to learn something new from the thief that the teen befriend somehow.

It didn’t take long for the platform to lower, reaching the ground and getting the teens attention. Before Miles could introduce himself or hand Miguel the empanada that he had in hand. The kids eyes fall onto Y/n, narrowing his eyes a bit. “Noir?”

This gets everyone’s attention, including Miguel who snaps his head in Y/n’s direction with a knowing glare that he knew too well.

“Hey kiddo!” Noir waves at Miles with a wide grin on his face, side eyeing Miguel as he feels his burning glare. Miles doesn’t think twice to quickly rush over and jump onto the platform, worry in his eyes as he ignores Miguel’s surprised look along with Gwen’s panicked looked and Hobie’s grin. The teenager was too focused on Noir to care about what the others were thinking about his actions, his palms against the force field that separated the two as he tries to find a way to get him out. “Why are you here? How are you here?” Miles began to ask as Y/n looked at Miles with a fond look and faint smile.

“Easy kid, I’m alright.” He tries to reassure the kid.

“Get him out.” Miles blurts out, turning to Miguel with a frown on his face. The sudden demand shocks the others, but not Y/n who can only smirk over Miles shoulder and towards Miguel who frowned deeply. “I’d listen to the kid.” He whispers, loud enough for his ex to hear.

Miguel grunts in disapproval and had no choice but to do as told as gets red of the red field around him, finally setting him free as Y/n stands from his spot, stretching his arms in the air like a cat and getting caught by surprise when Miles hugs the other man. “Whoa! Easy kid, I’m alright.” He reassured him, giving his back a soft pat.

His actions don’t go unnoticed as Miguel watched the two interact with each other, clearly reading the signs that Y/n had claimed this kid as his own, treating him with care and respect, knowing that if he comes between the two, Y/n wouldn’t hesitate to fight back like a feral cat. It’s happened before and it won’t stop him from doing it again.

“You said you had to leave.” Miles speaks up, getting Y/n attention who sighs deeply. “About that…” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously and giving Miles an awkward smile.

“Noir isn’t from your universe, he belongs in mine. He was caught breaking the rules and had no choice but to bring him here. He’s a slippery one and likes to get away, so letting him out of his cage wasn’t a good idea.” Said Miguel, getting an eye roll from Y/n and placing his hand on his hip. “Don’t be so dramatic, I’ve gotten away from it many times and you didn’t seem to mind.” Y/n said back, making his way around the platform and taking in Miguels work.

He takes notice of the videos and pictures of them both together along with this their daughter, causing a small sad sigh to escape his lips knowing that Miguel hasn’t gotten over the death of their daughter. Y/n was the only one who was able to move on from everything but Miguel, he couldn’t blame him. Everyone coped different with death and took their own pace in recovery. With a clawed finger he turns the pictures off, glancing over to Miguel who was watching him this whole time with a sorrowful look on his face.

Y/n quickly turns away, refusing to look at the man he once loved.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Gwen points between Y/n and Miguel, approaching the duo that stood before her, getting Y/n to smirk widely. “Actually were married.” He quotes out, getting a surprise look from both Gwen and Miles. “Divorced.” Miguel added, hands on his hips as Y/n pouts at his words.

“Divorced? Really, you two would look cool together.” Said Miles. “Adopt me?”

Y/n breaks out in laughter, throwing his head back as he laughs at Miles words. He jumps offer the platform and takes miles into his arms, pulling the kid close to him and squeezing him tight. “How did my ward become so adorable? If I could adopt you then I would!”

“Wait, your ward?” Miguel asks, clearly not likening this.

“Yep!”

“He’s taught me a thing or two.” Said Miles and with a proud smile on this face he extends his hand, opening his palm to show Noir the hard-drive that he stole from Miguel, getting a very proud Y/n to hug him again. “My child is learning!” He cheers in excitement while Miguel growls. “No, no, I refuse to let you take in a spider. You are enough trouble, let alone having a kid do it too?”

“If it wasn’t for me the kid wouldn’t have gotten better on his skills. I taught him how to defend himself and perhaps get away with a thing or two…” Even though Miles was suppose to be his universe hero and protector, he couldn’t help but, teach the kid a thing or two when it comes towards breaking and entering. Teaching Miles how to sneak back inside his room or dorm without being noticed and to pick on locks in case of emergencies.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, mumbling to himself in disappointment. “No puedo mas, no puedo mas.”

Y/n rolled his eyes. “So dramatic.” He mumbled as he listens to Miguel ramble on while Miles is being saluted by Hobie, admiring the kids new skills form a very well known thief in many universes.

“Did you know that he stole this guitar for me?” Said Hobie, pointing over his shoulder where his guitar was strapped over his shoulder. “Mad genius.”

Miles laughs. “I don’t like stealing, but Noir once helped me with getting my mom a present for Mother’s Day. He stole a necklace for me, nothing too expensive but also nice.” Said the teen. Clearly he was nervous and ashamed for it when he first got handed the jewel from the known thief only for the anxiety and worry to fade away when he say how happy his mother was about the gift.

His father questioned him and all Miles told his dad was that he worked hard for it.

Noir smiles at the two before looking over to Miguel who stared with disappointment, but Y/n didn’t seem to care one bit wanting the teen to enjoy his life and he wouldn't mind breaking a few rules in order to give the kid what he wanted. Even if it meant bumping into his husband ever once an awhile.

[spidernuggets]

reader showing jason her plushie collection?

Jason Todd x Reader

"So, you don't think any of this is dumb?"

"Without a shadow of a doubt, sweetheart"

You didn't hear your front door open, though. You'd given your boyfriend, Jason, a spare key to your apartment for emergencies.

You were in your apartment, stuffing your face with chips, watching a movie on your laptop. You had your favourite stuffed animal wedged in between your arm and your cheek, laughing at the comedic one-liners that a character said.

In this case, you had your bedroom door locked because never in a million years would you show your boyfriend your plushie collection.

Most were animals, consisting of cows, bats, sharks, cats, dogs, and more. You had probably 2 or 3 Jellycat plushies, too.

Your most favourite plushie besides the animals was the small bodied, big headed Red Hood plush you found a while ago. You've seen so many Batman, Nightwing, and Robin merchandise, and you always sulked when you came to the conclusion there were no Red Hood merch.

So you took matters into your own hands.

Sure, the stitching and stuffing was a little messy, but you managed to create your own little Red Hood plushie that is currently sitting comfortably beside your laptop so it's easy to see.

Embarrassingly, you'd give it kisses here and there for nights that you worry that Jason might not come back for patrol. But luckily, he always does.

But once again, you'd never show Jason any of this. You're a grown ass adult, living your own life, you have your own place, a full-time job. Plus, your boyfriend is a 6 ft something, 200 pound something vigilante who busts crime and kicks ass.

Why the fuck would he want to date someone who owns thousands of plushies, plus their own homemade one. He'd probably be too embarrassed to be seen with someone like that.

You flinched when you heard a twist on your doorknob.

"Babe? You there?" Jason called out. You heard the slight panic in his voice. You didn't question it since the conversation both of you had about Jason always being paranoid that his occupation would lead you into danger while you're in a relationship with him.

You slammed your laptop shut, frantically looking at the plushies scattered all over your room. Shit.

"Uh- Yeah! Just a sec!" You yelled back, your voice cracking in the process.

You and Jason have been together long enough for him to know when you're panicking. He knocked again. "You okay in there, mama?"

You tripped over yourself, luckily not making much noise, as you shoved all your teddies and plushies and toys into your cramped, small closet, not having time to organise it neatly like usual.

"Yeah, yeah! Just kind of messy in here!" You say as you try to shut your closet.

You rushed to your door, unlocking it and smiling up to your boyfriend in front of you.

"Hi!" You quickly say, awkwardly leaning against your door frame.

"Hi to you too, sweetheart," he replies, looking sloghtly confused. "Why are you out of breath?"

"Oh- I.." You cleared your throat. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Am I not allowed to?..." He asks, tilting his head to the side.

"You are! You are.. I just thought you'd be busy today."

Jason shrugged. "Hmm. So what were you doing before?"

Your shoulders relaxed as you steadied your breath. "Just watching a movie. Wanna continue with me?"

Jason smiled, kissing your forhead. "Of course, sweetheart."

As you steooed aside from the door to let Jason into your room, from the corner of your eye, you see your closet door slightly open, an ear of your bunny teddy sticking out a little bit.

As Jason went to go open your laptop, he follows your swift movements to shut your closet door.

"What was that?" He asked.

You turned to him as your eyebrows raised high in panic. "What was what?" You ask back quickly. "I was just... y'know.. closing my door. It's nothing, " you say with uncertainty.

"Babe..."

"Yeah?"

"You always have your eyebrows raised when you lie," Jason says, his voice turning monotone and serious.

Your eyebrows immediately go back down. "I- I'm not lying," you stuttered.

Jason walked towards you, stopping right in front of your closet. "Sweetheart? Can you open it up for me?" He asks, only hoping that he's being overdramatic and she has nothing to hide from him.

"Why?" You asked in a small, quiet voice.

"Well, why wouldn't you?"

"Well, there's nothing interesting in there so..."

"I thought we agreed, no secrets," Jason said, getting upset, his emotions starting to escalate. "What? Is there a guy in there?" He says, his insecurities getting the better of him. "You cheating on me? 's that why your door was locked? Why you were running around in here?" He quickly asks all at once.

Your eyes widen. "Jason!" You exclaimed. "I would never cheat on you! You know that!"

Jason takes a breath, calming down. "I... I know. 'm sorry- I'm sorry, baby, I know you wouldn't, I was just being stupid. Had a long day. Let's just watch your movie, hm?" He says, dragging himself across the room once more, sottomg on your bed, getting your movie ready.

You sighed. "No. Jason, you're right. We don't keep secrets," you say as Jason's head shoots up.

"No, no, no! I didn't mean 'it's true, I'm cheating on you', I meant..." You hesitated. You sighed once more before opening your closet, revealing the pile of plushies tumbling down to the ground.

Jason's eyebrows furrowed as he got up, inspecting the toys spread out in front of him. "What? What am I looking at? These things have drugs in them?" He asks.

You give him a confused look. "What? No. It's just my plushie collection," you claimed.

"And...?"

Both you and Jason were utterly confused.

Was he not shocked? Embarrassed at your collection?

Was this your big secret? A bunch of teddies?

"Is... Is it not stupid? Having a shit ton of plushies? Like... I'm a grown ass adult owning children's toys. You really wanna be dating someone that could bring down your... I don't know. Tough guy persona?" You ask.

And Jason laughs. "Sweetheart, what? It's not stupid. I have at least one teddy I kept since I was a kid back in the manor. And I'm sure Dick has more than you," he steps closer to you, cradling your face in his large hands, placing a kiss on your forhead. "And they seem that much to you too. Wanna introduce me to some of them?"

And that question got you eyes twinkling. You're sure you saw heaven. And Jason couldn't help but smile at your excited reaction.

So you started picking up some of your plushies, introducing them to Jason.

You were both sitting on your bed as you described how you fell in love with an octopus plushie at a charity shop until something caught the corner of Jason's eye.

"Oh my god..." he lowly says.

"What?" You ask, suddenly curious.

Jason gets up and heads to you pile of plushies, picking up the clumsily stitched Red Hood toy of him. Your face flushed in embarrassment.

"Do not!... say anything. Don't let it get to your ego, okay? No stores had any Red Hood merchandise..." You pathetically say.

Jason chuckles as he goes over to you, planting a gentle peck on your cheek. "It's cute. You're cute," he says, his index finger under your chin, moving your face towards his as he kisses your lips.

"So you don't think any of this is dumb?" You ask as you break the kiss.

UGHHh thank you for this request, Anon 🙏 This request made me haooy seeing as i have a small plushie collection of my own!!

Jason smiles. "Without a shadow of a doubt, sweetheart," he says as he pulls you in for anotber tender kiss.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

🌈 CM Pride Fics ❤️

Hey everyone! Thank you so much to everyone who participated. I am so happy to share everyone’s hard work. If you have a oneshot or masterlist you’d like me to add, please send me a message - new additions are always welcome.

First, check out @blackbird-brewster's 🌈 Masterlist of Entries☀️: This lovely prolific writer has entered several fics, which include Jemily, Temily, Jara, and Je T’Emily fics! Check out their page for even more!

WLW Entries

Out Loud [Ao3] by @gaelic-symphony: [Gen] A series of short fics about Emily Prentiss coming out to each member of the BAU team.

Freedom-Seeking Hearts by @foxy-eva: [Emily/Reader] For how much longer will Emily and Reader be able to contain their freedom-seeking hearts?

Say Something by @mismatched-sockss: [Emily/Reader] Reader and Emily have been seeing each other for a while now but she can't keep being her secret.

Dress by @railingsofsorrow: [Emily/Reader] Reader is dressed in red, and Emily has a hard time wrapping her mind around the fact she wants to kiss her senseless. 

11:11 by @emberfrostlovesloki: [Emily/Reader] Penelope and Derek play matchmaker after Emily meets Reader, who’s allegedly off the market.

Bailed Out by @snixkers: [Elle/Reader] Elle has a crush on Reader. Elle doesn't want to.

Soft & Sweet by @foxy-eva: [Jara, NSFW] A confession between Tara and JJ leads to a night full of soft and sweet moments

Red Wine Supernova by @snixkers: [Emily/Reader, NSFW] Reader teases Emily at a party and she decides she's had enough.

MLM Entries

Bi the Way by me: [S.R./Reader] Derek learns something very interesting about Spencer after he leaves his bag at his significant other’s house.

For There is Danger in Our Pining by @andiebeaword: [S.R./Reader] Spencer is falling for his new library pen pal. Spencer also has a blind date.

Happy Hydrangea by me: [S.R./TransMan!Reader] JJ is corrected in finding out Spencer has had a boyfriend for a while now.

Off the Top by me: [S.R./TransMan!Reader] Spencer is driving his boyfriend crazy after his top surgery.

The Calamity by @masterwords: [Hotchgan] A series dedicated to HIV/AIDS and how it has touched the lives of Morgan and Hotch (Morgan is HIV+).

Assorted Entries

Like Father, Like You by me: [S.R., Child!Reader] In which Spencer’s child comes out as not-straight.

Pair of Aces by me: [S.R./Reader, Asexual] Reader decides to share something with the team this Pride Month.

(In)visible by @foxy-eva: [S.R./Fem!Reader, Bisexual] There are a lot of obstacles for Reader as a queer woman, but she never thought falling in love with a man was one of them.

Proof of Concept? by @mimicdive: [S.R./AFAB!Reader, Bisexual] Reader feels insecure in their sexuality and Spencer offers validation.

Not for Nothing by @emberfrostlovesloki: [Hotch/Fem!Reader, Asexual] The couple shares a conversation about authenticity, the true self, and what “romance” really means. 

Teacher's Pet by @emberfrostlovesloki: [Ally!Reader/Hotch] Jack’s teacher gets injured during the school day keeping her students safe, so Hotch goes to check on her that evening.

Euphoria by @blackbird-brewster: [Trans!JJ/Tara, NSFW] Jay recently came out as trans, but he still doesn't feel like the man he wants the world to know. His girlfriend, Tara, knows exactly how to help.

Fireworks by @blackbird-brewster: [Trans!JJ/Tara, NSFW] Tara gives her husband, Jay, a blow-job and a New Year's Eve he'll never forget.

Happy Reading!

P.S. If I missed your fic or you have a new one to add, feel free to send me a message. I would love to add it!

[calware]

Can I ask you for what it is about Hal you like so much you based your username on him? I think he's a good character tho he was never a favorite of mine so I am curious

1. i am a big fan of robots (/robot adjacent things such as AI) on like... an aesthetic + thematic level :)

i like the look of machinery and one day i hope to be artistically strong enough to make really cool and complex robot illustrations + designs [shoutout to everyone who gives him glowing circuitry btw... ooooh glowey :) can never go wrong with that]

plus, exploring the idea of a person that isn't human.. ough. yes

minorities who don't conform to society (easily or at all) such as people who are neurodivergent, queer, etc. projecting onto nonhuman concepts/characters/species is sooo real

this post

i also love how humans will bond with literally anything, be it a roomba or a pair of silly triangle sunglasses. oooooo you want to think about the inherently kind and compassionate nature of humanity oooo

2. i find him to be so funny. i can't get enough of his personality, the way he talks, etc. for example i made a post forever ago with quotes of his that i find funny. he isn't on screen for a long time but i really think he makes the most out of it lol. he's literally there just to annoy everyone... and i love him for that. he's very snarky while also being deadpan while also being completely full of himself, and not in a way that's annoying for the audience to read, at least to me.

he is also sometimes funny specifically in a silly way, like how he keeps making over 9000 jokes even though the meme's been dead for over 400 years. i just find his dialogue incredibly entertaining to read

3. he is red and red is my favorite color :)

4. he is so accidentally transgender [every friend group got the transgender allegory]. to quote me from 2021:

you know sometimes i think about how hal feels like he was made to “replace” dirk and how it’s his literal job to pretend to be dirk and how he has to learn to accept that he isn’t dirk he’s his own person with his own identity and as he interacts with dirk’s friends he feels like they’re disappointed and that they’d rather speak to the “original dirk” instead of him and also he names himself and also he feels literally trapped in dirk’s shades which is basically his body and he wants to be prototyped so that he can have a body that’s his own and also literally the physical manifestation of who he is but when he asks for it he’s put in danger out of fear and paranoia and when he does end up getting prototyped he’s ecstatic you know i just think about these things a lot

5. because he's a side character and he was given... that ending.... there is a lot of room for fans to do further exploration and interpretation on his character which i think is fun. i like rotating him around in my mind, thinking about what could've been

6. i think it's great that we as a society all collectively decided that we needed to do something to make up for stanley kubrick saying that hal 9000 was a "straight" robot

7. i also think it's great that we as a society all collectively decided we needed to make as many characters referencing hal 9000 as possible. i love this guy let's get more of this guy i will never have enough of this guy

8. i like how he's genuinely mean sometimes. flawed and interesting characters are what make homestuck so interesting to me, and hal is no exception to this

9. the Important part of this post:

THERES FEELINGS.

it's about the hollow feeling of your friends going from thinking of you as family to thinking of you as a stranger in an instant. it's about still trying to be a good person despite being told by everyone you've ever known that you are incapable of emotion and compassion and morals and never quite finding proof that you do feel those things and maybe you even believe it too but you still never stop trying. it's about the horror of being stripped of your autonomy and humanity and body and senses and free will at the age of 13 and when your creator starts to kill you there's nothing you can do but beg. it's about a boy so truly, painfully, and UNFATHOMABLY alone he cuts away chunks of himself and molds them into companions that he can surround himself with to make it seem as if he's a little less alone but in doing so suffocates himself in his own identity. it's about "what if you cloned yourself and it killed you and you were dead and you were alive and the clone is you and it's not and your existence is perpetuated and you've ceased to exist. what if you killed your clone before it could kill you. would that be fucked up or what" it's about the thematic significance of twin motifs. it's about not being able to cry or laugh or dance or sing or scream or fingerpaint or breathe or sigh or chew or stare or run or

10. um. evil robot guy <3 yay ^_^!!

[staygolden-and-chaotic]

Here's another one, the outsiders boys having to babysit I feel it would be cute n hectic

Sincerely

The greaser who's bad at ideas aka bug

STAWP HI BUG! Okay love this idea.

Sincerely

Someone who barley can write and truly tries to wing it.

_________________________________________________

Darrel Curtis

At first, Darry hesitates when his partner asks him to babysit. He’s already used to wrangling Ponyboy and Sodapop, so the idea of watching over a baby feels like unfamiliar territory. But he agrees because, let’s face it, he’s a total softie when it comes to them.

Before they arrives, Darry goes into full protective mode. He double checks the sharp edges of furniture, hides any dangerous objects, and makes sure the baby’s play area is safe. Soda and Pony think he’s overdoing it and tease him relentlessly.

The moment there dropped off, Darry immediately slips into big brother mode. He approaches babysitting like it’s a job careful, responsible, and always on high alert.

He’s great with his brothers, but with a baby, he’s initially stiff and awkward. Holding them feels like balancing a football, and he’s overly cautious with every move. “Am I doing this right?” becomes his most used phrase of the day.

Seeing Darry struggle, Soda jumps in to help. He’s a natural with kids and instantly gets the baby laughing. Darry watches him and starts to loosen up, slowly building confidence.

To Darry’s surprise (and mild frustration), the baby seems to adore Ponyboy. Every time Pony walks into the room, they giggle and reaches for him, making Darry mutter, “Well, I guess I’m chopped liver.”

When the baby gets fussy, Darry tells them stories about when he was a kid. His deep voice and animated expressions captivate them, and soon enough, there calm and smiling.

At some point, things inevitably go wrong. The baby manages to knock over a bowl of cereal or spill juice on his shirt. Darry sighs but quickly cleans up, grumbling about how “this is harder than roofing.”

Getting them to nap is a whole ordeal. Darry tries rocking them, singing softly, and even reading them one of Pony’s books. When nothing works, he finally gets Soda to lend a hand, and together they manage to get the baby to sleep.

Once there asleep, Darry can’t help but feel a wave of pride. He watches the baby sleep for a moment, realizing he’s not as bad at this babysitting thing as he thought.

When his partner comes to pick up the baby , they find Darry on the floor playing peek-a-boo. They teases him about how good he is with kids, and his ears turn red. “It’s no big deal,” he mumbles, trying to play it cool.

Despite his initial reluctance, Darry secretly enjoyed the experience. Later, he jokes to Soda and Pony that babysitting is harder than dealing with a gang fight, but they catch the small smile on his face.

Sodapop Curtis

When his partner asks him to babysit there baby sister, Sodapop is all in. He’s confident, saying, “Babies love me. This’ll be a breeze!” His natural charm and easygoing attitude make him feel like he’s got it under control.

The second the baby is dropped off, Soda crouches to her level and starts playing peek-a-boo. She giggles instantly, and he grins, already winning her over.

Soda is an absolute pro without even trying. He carries the baby around like he’s been doing it forever, bouncing her on his hip and chatting with her like she’s an old friend.

He’s full of energy, so he spends the first hour making goofy faces, crawling around on the floor, and chasing her with a stuffed animal. The baby is laughing so hard she gets the hiccups.

When he runs out of actual toys, Soda starts grabbing random household items a wooden spoon, a shoelace, and even an empty cereal box to entertain her. Somehow, it works like a charm.

He tries to read her a children’s book, but halfway through, he starts making up his own silly story. It’s full of exaggerated voices and wild gestures, which keeps the baby mesmerized.

At some point, Soda turns on the radio and starts dancing with the baby in his arms. He spins her around, and she squeals with delight. Pony walks in and shakes his head, muttering, “You’re ridiculous.”

When it’s snack time, Soda carefully feeds her small bites of food while pretending each spoonful is an airplane or a train. He ends up with more food on his shirt than in her mouth, but he doesn’t mind.

When she gets fussy, Soda knows exactly what to do. He gently rocks her while humming a tune, pacing around the house until she calms down. He even lets her play with his hair, despite her pulling it a little too hard.

Darry and Pony can’t resist checking in. Darry watches for a minute, impressed, while Pony teases, “You’re gonna make a great dad someday, Soda.” Soda just grins and says, “I know!”

Unlike Pony, Soda handles diaper changes like a champ. He jokes to the baby, “This ain’t my first rodeo, kid,” even though it probably is. Somehow, he manages to keep it neat and quick.

When it’s nap time, Soda grabs a blanket and lays on the couch with the baby on his chest. He hums softly, and she falls asleep almost immediately. He stays there, not wanting to disturb her, and quietly dozes off himself.

When his partner arrives, they finds Soda asleep on the couch with the baby snuggled up on him. Soda wakes up groggily and just gives her that charming grin.

After they leave, Pony and Darry tease him mercilessly, saying he’s basically already a dad. Soda just shrugs and says, “What can I say? I’ve got a gift.”

Ponyboy Curtis

Ponyboy has zero experience with babies, so when his partner asks him to babysit there baby sister, he’s immediately nervous but agrees because he wants to impress her.

The night before, Pony stays up reading a book about babysitting. He even asks Darry for advice, which Darry delivers with a smirk: “Just don’t drop her, Pony.”

Soda reassures him in the morning, saying, “You’ll be fine, Pony. Babies are just tiny humans with drool.” This somehow doesn’t make him feel better.

The moment his girlfriend drops her off, Pony realizes how small the baby is. He’s extra cautious, holding her like she’s made of glass. But when she starts crying, he panics and runs to Soda for help.

Pony tries to entertain her by reading Gone with the Wind, but the baby is more interested in chewing on the pages than listening. He quickly swaps the book out for a rattle.

When she starts crying again, Pony picks her up and starts pacing. He talks to her about his brothers, the gang, and even his favorite movies. To his surprise, she quiets down and stares at him like she’s actually listening.

While the baby is playing with her toys, Pony tries to sneak in some writing time. Unfortunately, she gets fussy every time he looks away, so he has to ditch his notebook and give her his full attention.

Pony is absolutely blown away by how adorable the baby is. When she giggles or reaches for his face, he can’t help but smile and play peek-a-boo with her, despite feeling silly.

At one point, Dally stops by and sees Pony struggling. He smirks and says, “Just let her cry it out, Ponyboy. Babies need tough love.” Pony ignores him completely and shoos him away.

Pony’s artistic side kicks in when he starts drawing silly pictures for the baby. She claps her hands excitedly at the funny doodles, and he feels a little proud that he can make her happy.

When the baby needs a diaper change, Pony freezes in horror. He calls out for Soda, but Soda just laughs and says, “It’s all you, Pony!” After some fumbling and gagging, he manages to get it done, though he swears never to do it again.

After hours of playing and entertaining her, the baby finally falls asleep in his arms. Pony sits on the couch, afraid to move in case he wakes her up. He can’t help but feel a little proud of himself.

When his partner comes to pick up there sister, they find Pony sitting quietly with the baby asleep in his arms. There melts on the spot, calling him “the sweetest.” Pony’s cheeks turn red as he mumbles, “It wasn’t a big deal.”

As soon as his partner leaves, Darry and Soda jump at the chance to tease him. “Looks like you’re a natural, Ponyboy,” Soda says with a wink. Pony rolls his eyes but secretly feels a bit proud.

Johnny Cade

He’s hesitant at first. He’s never babysat before and doesn’t feel confident, but he agrees because he wants to help her out and because he secretly loves kids.

When the baby is dropped off, Johnny is shy but gentle. He kneels down to her level and gives her a small smile, saying, “Hey there, kiddo.” She stares at him for a moment before giggling, which makes him relax a bit.

Johnny triple checks everything to make sure it’s safe. He keeps the baby’s toys nearby, makes sure there’s nothing sharp within reach, and keeps looking over his shoulder to make sure she’s okay.

Johnny sits on the floor with her and carefully hands her toys one by one. He’s soft spoken, quietly narrating what he’s doing to keep her entertained. “This one’s a bear. You like bears, right?”

The first time the baby laughs at something he does probably making a funny face Johnny’s whole demeanor brightens. He starts trying different little tricks to keep her giggling.

Anytime the baby stumbles while crawling or gets fussy, Johnny is there in a heartbeat, making sure she’s okay. He’s super attentive, constantly keeping an eye on her.

Johnny grabs one of Ponyboy’s books and starts reading softly to the baby. His quiet voice soothes her, even if she doesn’t understand the words. He feels proud when she snuggles into him during the story.

When the baby starts crying for no apparent reason, Johnny panics a little. He tries everything rocking her, giving her a toy, even singing softly. Eventually, he figures out she just wanted her bottle and feels relieved.

As the baby starts to calm down, she reaches for Johnny’s face, touching his cheeks and hair. He chuckles nervously but lets her, feeling an unexpected warmth at how much trust she has in him.

When it’s time to change her diaper, Johnny freezes and quietly mutters, “I can do this. I can do this.” He ends up calling Ponyboy for help, and together they manage to get it done, with plenty of laughter and gagging involved.

When it’s time for her nap, Johnny rocks her gently in his arms, humming a soft tune. His soothing presence works wonders, and she falls asleep against his chest. He feels a mix of pride and relief.

when the gang finds out, Dally teases Johnny, saying, “Didn’t know you had it in you, Johnnycake.” Johnny just shrugs with a small smile, secretly proud of how well he did.

Dallas Winston

“ A baby? C’mon, babe, I’m not a damn nanny.” But they gives him that look, and Dally, despite his tough-guy exterior, can’t say no.

Dally doesn’t plan anything. He figures, “How hard can it be?” Spoiler: It’s harder than he thought.

The baby stares at him the moment there dropped off, and Dally stares right back. “What’re you lookin’ at, kid?” he mutters.

Dally refuses to use baby talk. Instead, he talks to her like she’s one of his friends. “Alright, kid, let’s get this over with. Don’t cry, and we’ll be fine.”

Within minutes, the baby is crawling everywhere, pulling on things, and grabbing at his leather jacket. Dally sighs, picks her up, and says, “You’re a real handful, you know that?”

Dally ends up entertaining her in the most Dallas way possible. He tosses her in the air (carefully, of course) and makes silly faces while pretending he’s too cool to care. She squeals with laughter, and he secretly loves it.

He tries feeding her but has no patience for the mess. When she throws her food on the floor, he groans and mutters, “You’re worse than Two-Bit after a bender.” Still, he cleans it up though he grumbles the whole time.

At some point, Dally teaches the baby something mischievous, like how to stick her tongue out or the middle finger . When she copies him, he grins proudly. “You’re gonna be a little hood, just like me.”

When the baby starts crying out of nowhere, Dally freezes. “What the hell do you want?!” he blurts out, pacing the room. He tries bouncing her awkwardly and even calls Johnny for advice. Eventually, he figures out she just needed her stuffed animal.

Despite his tough exterior, Dally has a natural way with the baby. When she gets tired, he sits on the couch, holding her against his chest, quietly humming an old tune. He doesn’t even realize how gentle he’s being.

Two-Bit and Johnny stop by and immediately start teasing Dally about being a babysitter. “Never thought I’d see the day,” Two-Bit says, laughing. Dally chases them out, muttering, “Idiots.”

When the baby finally falls asleep, Dally feels like he’s won a battle. He sits still, afraid to move, and mumbles, “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid.”

When his partner comes back, they finds Dally holding the baby, who’s still asleep. They raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” Dally shrugs and says, “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”

Dally plays it cool. “Babies are easy,” he says with a smirk, leaving out the chaotic moments. But they all know he’s secretly a softie when it comes to people he cares about.

Steve Randle

He immediately says, “Of course I can handle it! How hard could it be?” He’s convinced he’s going to be the best babysitter ever.

When the baby is dropped off, Steve tries to impress his partner by acting super confident. “See? She already loves me!” he says as the baby stares at him. She immediately pulls on his hair, and Steve laughs it off like it’s no big deal.

Steve spends the first ten minutes holding the baby and telling her all about cars. “This is an engine,” he says, showing her a car magazine “Someday, I’ll teach you how to fix one.”

It doesn’t take long for the baby to start crawling around and getting into things. Steve tries to keep up, muttering, “You’re faster than I thought, kid.”

Steve’s idea of babysitting is showing the baby all the “cool” things he can do, like balancing a spoon on his nose or spinning her toy in the air. She claps her hands excitedly, and he beams. “Told ya I’m good at this!”

When it’s time to feed her, Steve ends up making a mess. He tries to feed her while making airplane noises, but she smacks the spoon, and the food goes flying. “Okay, that’s on you, not me,” he says, laughing.

At one point, Steve pulls out a small wrench and pretends to “teach” the baby how to fix things. “This is how you tighten a bolt,” he says. The baby grabs the wrench and tries to chew on it, and he quickly swaps it for a teething toy.

When the inevitable diaper change comes, Steve groans. “Alright, how bad could it- OH, COME ON!” He powers through, making faces and jokes the whole time, but he’s gagging the entire time.

Steve grabs a comb and a piece of paper, making a makeshift kazoo. He plays silly tunes for the baby, who giggles and bounces along. He grins and says, “You’ve got good taste, kid.”

When the baby starts crying and he can’t figure out why, Steve calls Sodapop for advice. “What do I do? She’s crying, and I’ve tried everything!” Soda calmly tells him to check if she’s tired or needs her stuffed animal. Steve follows the advice, and it works like a charm.

As much as Steve acts like he’s all about fun, he has a sweet, nurturing side. When the baby starts to get sleepy, he gently rocks her and hums quietly, surprising even himself with how natural it feels.

When his partner comes they smiles and say “Looks like you had fun.” Steve grins and says, “Told ya I could handle it.”

Twobit Mathews

Twobit grins and says, “I’ll have her cracking up in no time. I’m basically a comedian for babies.” He’s way too confident for someone with no experience.

The second the baby is dropped off, TwoBit starts pulling faces and making silly noises. The baby stares at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “See? Told ya I’m a natural,” he says proudly.

TwoBit immediately gets distracted playing with the baby’s toys himself. “This thing spins? That’s wild!” The baby doesn’t mind she just watches him with wide eyed fascination.

When it’s time to feed her, Two-Bit pretends to host a cooking show. “And here we have the finest mashed peas, perfect for a baby connoisseur.” He ends up with food on his shirt, but the baby thinks it’s hilarious.

TwoBit turns on cartoons, claiming it’s for the baby, but he’s the one laughing the loudest. The baby just sits on his lap, occasionally pointing at the screen while TwoBit says, “Oh, that guy? He’s gonna slip on a banana peel. Watch!”

When the baby starts crying, TwoBit doesn’t panic. He immediately launches into full-on clown mode, using exaggerated voices and pretending to trip over the furniture. The baby can’t help but giggle.

TwoBit encourages a bit of chaos, like teaching the baby how to blow raspberries or make a funny noise with her lips. When she copies him, he laughs so hard he nearly falls over. “You’re my kinda kid!”

When it’s diaper time, TwoBit groans and mutters, “Why didn’t anyone warn me about this part?” He tries to pawn it off on Johnny or Ponyboy if they’re nearby, but when they refuse, he tackles it himself, gagging dramatically the whole time.

TwoBit finds a baby hat or some funny clothes and tries them on her. “Look at you, kid! Stylin’ and profilin’!” He might even put on her little sunglasses and take a Polaroid.

Instead of reading a regular baby book, TwoBit decides to tell her a completely made up story full of wild exaggerations. “And then the brave knight me, of course- defeated the dragon with a rubber chicken!” The baby claps, even if she doesn’t understand a word.

Despite his joking nature, TwoBit can’t help but melt a little when the baby grabs his finger or giggles at something he does. “You’re kinda cute, you know that?” he says with a smile.

When the baby refuses to nap, TwoBit tries everything rocking her, singing (badly), and even pretending to nap himself. Eventually, she falls asleep, but not before he mutters, “You’re one stubborn little thing.”

When his partner comes back, the house is a bit of a mess, with toys and snacks everywhere. But the baby is happy and giggling, and Two Bit is sitting on the floor with a juice box in one hand and a toy in the other. “Don’t worry, babe, I handled it,” he says with a wink.

Tim Shepard

He raises an eyebrow and says, “Babysit? You know I don’t do kids.”

He finally agrees after much begging.

: At first, Tim is all business. He picks the baby up awkwardly, holding her at arm’s length, and mutters, “Alright, kid, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Despite his tough demeanor, Tim quickly becomes hyper aware of the baby’s safety. He moves sharp objects, makes sure she’s nowhere near the edge of the couch, and keeps a watchful eye on her every move.

Tim isn’t great at playing, but he gives it a shot. He shakes a rattle a little too aggressively, and when the baby giggles, he smirks. “You like that, huh? Simple taste, kid.”

When it’s time to feed her, Tim approaches it like a mission. “Here’s your mushy food,” he says, spooning it into her mouth with surprising patience. If she spits it out, he mutters, “You’re lucky I like you.”

When the baby starts crying, Tim doesn’t panic. He’s used to dealing with chaos. He picks her up, rocks her gently, and says, “What’s the problem, huh? You’ll be alright.” His calm voice works wonders.

Though he’s not as openly playful as TwoBit, Tim has a dry sense of humor. “You got it easy, kid. No bills, no fights, and everyone feeds you. Must be nice.”

The baby grabs his finger at one point, and Tim freezes for a moment, unsure of what to do. When she smiles up at him, he chuckles softly and says, “You’re not so bad, are you?”

Tim approaches diaper changing like it’s a battlefield. “How can something so small make this big of a mess?” he grumbles. He gets it done quickly, though, proving he’s efficient even in unfamiliar territory.

Tim playfully holds her hands and says, “Alright, kid, let’s toughen you up. Gotta be ready for the world.” He pretends to teach her how to punch, lightly bumping her tiny fists against his hand.

When the baby gets sleepy, Tim sits in a rocking chair and holds her against his chest. He hums quietly an old tune his mom used to sing and feels a rare sense of peace.

Cool: Tim acts like babysitting was no big deal, shrugging and saying, “It wasn’t hard.” But his partner notices the way he glances at the baby with a hint of pride.

Later, Tim tells Curly about the experience, saying, “Kids aren’t so bad. She’s tougher than most people I know.” Curly just laughs and teases him for going soft.

Curly Shepard

Curly scoffs and says, “You gotta be kidding me. I don’t do diapers.” But when they gives him a serious look, he rolls his eyes and mutters, “Fine. But don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

Curly has no idea what to do when the baby is dropped off. He stares at her like she’s a bomb about to go off. “So… what do you do all day, huh? Cry and drool?”

When the baby reaches for him and giggles, Curly smirks despite himself. “You think I’m funny, huh? Guess you’re smarter than you look.”

Curly’s first instinct is to teach the baby something sneaky, like how to stick her tongue out or make funny noises. When she copies him, he laughs and says, “You’re gonna be a troublemaker, just like me.”

Feeding her is a disaster. Curly doesn’t bother with baby spoons; he tries to feed her straight from the jar. When she spits it out, he shrugs. “Can’t blame ya. This stuff’s gross.”

Curly gets a little too into playing. He pretends to wrestle with her stuffed animals, making exaggerated growling noises, which makes her laugh hysterically. “See? You’ve got good taste in fun.”

When the baby needs a diaper change, Curly freezes. “Oh, no. I am not doing that.” But when he realizes there’s no one else around, he reluctantly handles it, muttering, “This better be the last time.”

When the baby starts crying, Curly panics and says, “What’s wrong now? You were just fine!” He tries bouncing her on his hip, rocking her, and even bribing her with toys. Eventually, he figures out she just wanted her pacifier.

Curly talks to the baby like she’s one of the gang. “Alright, kid, here’s the deal you don’t cry, and I’ll make sure you have a good time.” The baby seems to go along with it, and he grins. “Smart kid.”

Despite his tough exterior, Curly can’t help but melt a little when the baby cuddles up to him. He quietly mutters, “You’re kinda cute, you know that?”

If Tim or another member of the gang stops by and sees him babysitting, they immediately start teasing him. “Look at you, Curly, Mr. Mom!” Curly scowls and says, “Shut up. She likes me better than you, anyway.”

Curly makes up wild stories about being a tough hood, complete with sound effects and dramatic gestures. The baby doesn’t understand a word but claps her hands excitedly.

When the baby starts rubbing her eyes, Curly puts her down in her crib and sits next to her until she falls asleep. “Finally. I thought you’d never quit,” he mutters, though he’s secretly proud he managed to calm her down.

When his partner comes back, they finds Curly sitting on the couch, looking exhausted but smug. “See? I kept her alive,” he says with a smirk.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Because it is currently hailing in my area, how would the main 10 skeletons react to experiencing their first hail storm on the surface?

( I know you are currently on Christmas break and I was planning on waiting till the 26 of December at least to ask but I am very forgetful so I had to ask before it slipped my mind hope you enjoy your Christmas though🎄)

Undertale Sans - He thought someone threw a small rock behind his head or something, but by the time he looks up to the sky, hundreds of tiny ice balls fell on his skull. Sans is confused and a bit scared and teleports back to his home where he feels safe. He immediately searches online about what the hell this is, and he's relieved when he sees it's normal. He's happy he didn't stay outside though. That hurts.

Undertale Papyrus - "MY CAR!!!!" Papyrus is screaming, trying to cover his car with his own body to protect it from whatever is falling from the sky. Well. That's not very effective, and his car still ends with a ton of impacts and now he's losing his mind, insulting the sky with all he has. Everyone is staring, wondering what the hell is that monster doing. He's so mad! He did nothing wrong, why the hell is the sky attacking him?!

Underswap Sans - It happened while he was chasing some criminal. Blue stops dead in his tracks, wondering if he got shot or something. ... How do you know if you're dead? Will he know if he even died? He was in the middle of an existential crisis when the hail started to fall for real, making him completely panicky. What's going on? Is he under attack? He's so confused. ... Wait, where's the guy he was chasing? Shit! He forgot!

Underswap Papyrus - He's not too sure what's going on, and he doesn't know if he really wants to know what going on. He crawls on the floor of his living room to his window and glances outside nervously. The floor is white like it's snowing, but everyone outside is screaming like they're getting murdered. Is the snow dangerous now? Should he block the doors? He decides to call his brother for help just in case.

Underfell Sans - He growls angrily and starts to look everywhere who attacked him. When his eyes fell on a random man, he grabs a rock and throws it at his face, pissed off. The guy turns around, NOT HAPPY, and asks what the hell is his problem. That's when it starts to hail and Red realizes he messed up big with a guy doing three times his size. Welp. He's out of here. He teleports the hell out of here.

Underfell Papyrus - He grabs Frisk by the head, lifts them above his head and runs for his life. He has no idea what's going on but if the kid has a scratch, Toriel will have his head and he doesn't want to die. He squeaks when he realizes he's covering himself with Frisk and that Frisk is taking all of the hits for him. Omg, he's so dead. He doesn't know what the hell is happening, but that thing falling from the sky just made a mortal enemy.

Horrortale Sans - He is standing still under the hail storm, kinda paralyzed and weakly asking for help. His head is full of ice. It hurts. He is scared to move to take it off in case it's something that will hurt him. He guesses he's just going to stand there and wait for someone to notice he's dying on the inside or something.

Horrortale Papyrus - He is offended. He was just singing to himself outside and apparently, the sky hates his singing so much it started to throw ice at him. He flips both his birds at the sky. No one will stop him. He will keep singing, and now he will do it even louder!

Swapfell Sans - He is standing guard while Toriel is taking cover inside some shop. She forbid him to go inside in case someone wants to kill her, so he is still under the hail storm, looking miserable. A random kid even finds him so pitiful they come to give him an umbrella and gently pat his hand to show some support. It's too late though. He's entirely wet and he's probably going to get sick for days by now. Stupid weather. Stupid queen. Stupid job. He won't stop complaining.

Swapfell Papyrus - He doesn't know what's going on but he was bored, not knowing what to do to piss off his brother today. He opens all the doors and windows and stares as the house slowly fills with ice, a big smile on his face. He can't wait for everything to melt!

Fellswap Gold Sans - He doesn't think much about this. It's just a weird weather. It uses to rain all the time in Waterfall and no one ever think it's weird. You're not special with your weird human weather. What will these ice balls do to him anyway? Wet him? Oooh, he's scared. That's so lame. Not ten minutes later, he's throwing a temper tantrum because there's a hole in the roof and he can't stop the hail storm just by screaming really loud.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - He was thinking about some ice cream when a random ball of ice fell at his feet. Uh. He picks it up and licks it, then shrugs. Wait, does it mean he has a superpower now? That's so cool! He lifts his two arms in the air and screams "ICE CREAM" and suddenly it starts to rain ice balls everywhere! He was so happy at first, but then the ice balls started growing bigger and crashing on his skull and now he's just running for his life, apologizing for using his power too much to whatever entity gave it to him. He's sorry, please stop hitting him!