#Pocket Science Lab

[spw-art]

Found while cleaning out my pockets. When did I draw this.

[kittylordartfinity]

[elliesbabygirl]

Inspired by charli xcx's 'party 4 u' because I'm unoriginal and still not over the fact that my 'RYM' series has just ended :( + I love writing cool-ish loser! Ellie. She's like a guilty pleasure that I crave really bad 24/7. NOT proofread like always considering I import it from my google docs. 😭Consider it a sweet treat for showing my 'RYM' series sm love🩷

Summary: a small fic that follows you and ellie in a series of moments, where the two of you are too nervous to confess and instead decide to play the long game over some not-so platonic moments.

You told everyone it was just a chill hangout. "Lowkey", you said. "Just a few people, good music, my place." But you’d spent two days rearranging furniture, stringing up lights, and refreshing the playlist so it hit that perfect mood—right between casual and maybe-I-like-you.

Your tiny off-campus apartment buzzed with soft chatter, solo cups in hand, laughter spilling into the hallway. The bass of Charli XCX’s 'party 4 u' thumped low underneath it all, like a secret. And in the center of it? You. Smiling. Mingling. Laughing a little too hard and watching the door.

Jesse bumped your shoulder as he handed you a drink. “You owe me.”

You grinned, feigning innocence. “For what?”

“For casually mentioning this party to Ellie in our lab today. Loudly.. multiple times.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “She’s coming?”

Jesse just sipped his beer and raised a brow. “She said she might. That’s the most commitment you’ll get from her.”

Your pulse picked up. You thanked him—sincerely—and flitted off to refresh the chips or the playlist or just to keep moving so you wouldn’t go insane.

Twenty minutes later, she walked in.

Ellie Williams, with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her oversized hoodie, a faded science joke T-shirt barely visible underneath (“Never trust an atom. They make up everything.”) and worn jeans that somehow made her look cooler than anyone in the room trying too hard.

You were in the middle of a story—something about a disastrous mixer and three fire alarms—when you saw her. And for a second, your words faltered. She spotted you through the crowd, and her lips pulled into the faintest smile, like she wasn’t used to smiling but still wanted to try.

You waved her over before you could second-guess yourself, cheeks already warm.

“Ellie! You made it!” you said, maybe a little too excited, but you didn’t care.

She gave a short laugh. “Yeah, well… Jesse said there’d be free drinks and good music. He wasn’t wrong.”

Her voice was casual, but she kept glancing around—at the people, the lights, your posters, the blanket you’d half-draped over the couch in a panic to make it look effortlessly cozy.

“So,” you said, stepping closer, voice soft under the music. “You’re not usually a party person.”

“I’m not,” Ellie said. “But… I guess I wanted to see what kind of party you throw.”

You smiled, heart skipping. “It’s literally for you. So… hope it’s decent.”

Ellie blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you teased, stepping back a little, playful. “I throw parties for all the quiet, tattooed girls in science shirts I secretly have a crush on.”

She laughed, head ducking slightly, the tip of her ear pink. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re here,” you said.

“Guess I am.”

For a moment, the room felt smaller, the lights softer. The music just a little louder.

Then Jesse passed by, grinning like he’d won a bet. And you didn’t care—because Ellie was still looking at you like you were the only reason she showed up.

Which, maybe, you were.

The living room hummed with energy—your sorority sisters playing some chaotic drinking game, a speaker nearly tipping off the table from the bass, someone shouting “who brought the glitter??” but in the kitchen, it was quieter, dim. The yellow light from the overhead bulb buzzed faintly. Safe.

Ellie followed you in with an awkward sort of hesitation, her hands fiddling with the strings of her hoodie, like she wasn’t sure if she’d crossed some invisible line by following you.

“I swear, this kitchen is the least aesthetic part of the apartment,” you said, grabbing two sodas from the fridge. “But… also the most peaceful.”

She took the offered can with a quiet “thanks” and leaned her hip against the counter. You mirrored her on the opposite side, just far enough to pretend you weren’t stealing glances at her.

“So..” Ellie said, popping the tab on her drink, “you really threw this party just because of me?”

You gave a light laugh, shrugging. “Well, technically it was an excuse to wear my cute outfit and force Jesse to help me clean my apartment, but yeah… mostly you.”

Ellie smiled into her can, trying to hide it but failing.

“I don’t really get invited to stuff like this,” she said after a pause. “Usually just study groups or… I dunno, weird board game nights in the dorm basement.”

“You’re seriously telling me no one invites you to parties?” you asked. “Like, Ellie Williams, girl-who-always-knows-the-answer-in-chem?”

She snorted. “Yeah, that’s my reputation. Super hot.”

You leaned forward a little, teasing. “Actually? It kinda is.”

Ellie looked up sharply, her expression unreadable for one second too long. Then she bit her bottom lip, hiding the way her face went pink.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause I showed up.”

“Nope,” you said. “I say it every time you leave class with that nerdy little squint of yours”

She laughed again, more quietly this time. Her foot tapped nervously against the floor. Yours mirrored it.

The silence that followed was charged—soft and anxious and somehow perfect. Like the both of you were standing at the edge of something but didn’t quite know how to fall into it.

You took a sip of your soda just to do something with your hands. “You know, we could probably stay in here all night. They wouldn’t even notice.”

Ellie nodded, eyes drifting towards the doorway like it was another planet. “Yeah… I like it better in here. It’s… nice.”

You grinned. “You mean I’m nice.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

“Maybe I just like being cornered by the sorority girl in a too-perfect kitchen.”

“Careful,” you said, stepping just a little closer. “That almost sounded like flirting.”

Ellie tilted her head, curious. “Would that be… a problem?”

You looked at her, really looked at her, all nervous humor and fidgety hands with a hidden warmth.

“No,” you said. “It’d be a start.”

The music pulsed faintly from the other room, the sound like a heartbeat you didn’t have to chase anymore. And in that tiny kitchen—amid the empty solo cups and the hum of the fridge—neither of you moved, but something changed anyway.

Ellie shifted her weight, shoulder brushing just barely against the cabinet as she leaned in a fraction—like it was accidental, it wasn’t. You were leaning in too. Inch by inch, like gravity had its own agenda.

“Your playlist is kinda fire,” she murmured, eyes flicking to your lips and then back up. “Didn’t know you were hiding taste and brains.”

You smiled. “I have secrets.”

Ellie smirked, that soft, rare kind of smirk like she wasn’t used to letting herself have fun. “Bet you say that to all the chemistry nerds you trap in your kitchen.”

“Only the ones who wear punny science shirts and look like they’d rather die than admit they’re having fun.”

She laughed, quiet and breathy, and the space between you shrank again.

Your shoulder grazed hers, then your hands, and then her knee bumped yours under the counter and neither of you moved away. Her eyes locked on yours, green and stormy and very, very close.

“You always do this?” Ellie asked, voice almost a whisper now.

“Do what?”

“Throw a party for someone you like, then corner them and flirt until they can’t think straight?”

You blinked slowly. “I don’t think you’re thinking straight right now.”

She breathed out a laugh, but it caught in her throat. Her hand brushed against yours on the counter—barely there, but deliberate. Everything in you felt still, humming.

Her voice was quieter than ever. “Maybe I’m not.”

You leaned in, so close you could feel her breath on your skin and you didn’t even notice how close your faces were until your nose nearly brushed hers. She didn’t pull back. Neither did you.

Then—

“YO!”

Jesse’s voice blasted into the kitchen like a bomb.

You and Ellie jolted apart like you’d been caught setting off fireworks in a church.

“There is puke! Puke! On your rug!” he shouted, flailing into the doorway with a wild look in his eyes and a towel wrapped around one hand like a crime scene.

“What the—who?!” you yelled, stepping away from Ellie so fast you almost tripped over your own foot.

“I don’t know! Some girl in glitter boots and a unicorn onesie. I think she thinks this is the chi o afterparty..”

Ellie cleared her throat and took a big, unnecessary gulp of soda, pointedly looking away from both of you.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Of course! The one time I throw a party for a girl—someone nice, not a walking frat mistake—and this happens.”

Jesse blinked. “Wait. This was a—oh, Ohhhhh. I’m gonna go clean..i was never here.”

He disappeared as fast as he came, leaving a gust of hot wind behind him.

You looked at Ellie, your cheeks burning, heart still racing for a completely different reason now.

“I swear this never happens,” you said, voice hoarse.

She laughed—quiet, but warm. “Sure, but… you did corner me.”

“I did.”

She looked at you again, really looked. “You gonna finish what you started?”

You smiled. “Maybe. Just… after I make sure my rug survives the night.”

Ellie snickered. “I’ll be here, kitchen's kinda… cozy.”

The last of the music had faded into silence. Your apartment looked like a glitter bomb had gone off during a frat hazing ritual—red solo cups littered every flat surface, someone had left a half-eaten slice of pizza on a bookshelf, and the rug (miraculously) had survived.

Jesse was stacking cups into a tower in the kitchen, muttering something about “next time, no open invite.” Ellie was still here, to your total disbelief, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back with an elastic she found on her wrist, helping you pick up confetti with two fingers like it was nuclear waste.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” you said, dropping a plastic cup into a trash bag. “You’re officially above this. You helped clean glitter puke, you've earned your freedom.”

Ellie glanced at you from where she was crouched, grabbing a stack of napkins from under the coffee table. “Yeah, well… figured I’d see it through. Make sure your place doesn’t collapse.”

You smiled, tired but too giddy to care. “What a hero.”

She looked away quickly, but you caught the flush that crawled up her neck.

Jesse yawned loudly, clapping his hands once. “Alright. You two got this. I’m out.”

You didn’t stop him. Ellie didn’t either. The door shut behind him with a quiet click.

And then there was just… silence.

Ellie stood in the middle of the room, holding a sad party streamer in one hand like she’d forgotten what it was. You stood nearby, frozen with a trash bag half-full, too aware of the fact that she didn’t leave. That you didn’t want her to.

You both laughed at the same time—nervous, overlapping.

“This is weird,” you said. “Why is this weird?”

“I don’t know,” Ellie replied, smiling sheepishly. “You tell me. You threw the party.”

“For you.”

“I know.”

The silence came back, heavier this time. But softer, too.

Ellie stepped closer, tossing the streamer into the bag you were holding. Her fingers grazed yours. Not an accidental mistake.

“You were gonna kiss me earlier,” she said, voice almost a whisper.

You blinked. “You were gonna kiss me.”

She smiled. “So what happened?”

You gestured toward the now-destroyed battlefield of your living room. “A unicorn onesie and bodily fluids, that’s what.”

Ellie chuckled, and the tension broke—just enough. She was still so close. You could smell her faintly—soap, and whatever cheap body spray Jesse kept in the bathroom.

Your heart raced. You looked at her, at her stupid science T-shirt and her flushed cheeks and the way she couldn’t stop fiddling with the hem of her hoodie.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” you asked, half a statement, half full of hope.

Ellie shook her head slowly. “Not yet.”

She took another step.

You mirrored it.

Neither of you were sure who moved first—maybe it didn’t matter—but one second you were standing in the wreckage of a party, and the next her hand was on your waist, your fingers brushing her jaw.

The kiss started soft—testing the waters—but didn’t stay that way.

It deepened quickly, like both of you were letting go of something you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. Her lips were warm and a little uncertain, but she matched your rhythm like she’d been thinking about this just as long, maybe longer.

Her fingers curled into your sweatshirt. Yours slid to her neck, your thumb grazing the side of her jaw, and she made the faintest sound in the back of her throat—surprised and shaky.

The world around you slowed. The music was gone. The mess didn’t matter. There was just the pulse in your ears, the warmth of her mouth, the quiet tension that pulled you both in tighter.

When the kiss finally broke, it was slow—reluctant.

You stayed close, noses brushing. Neither of you ready to pull away.

Ellie’s voice came out breathless. “That was… wow.”

You smiled, giddy and flushed. “Yeah. Definitely… wow.”

She swallowed, still catching her breath, still holding on. “I thought I messed it up.”

“You didn’t.”

Her forehead rested against yours for a second—like she didn’t want to let the moment go.

Then you both stepped back at the same time. Nervous and a little dazed.

You cleared your throat, gripping the trash bag like it was the only thing tying you to reality. “So, um.. more confetti?”

Ellie laughed under her breath, eyes still locked on you. “Yeah, sure Confetti.”

The hum of fluorescent lights. The low clatter of glassware. That faint, sterile scent of ethanol and dust and overachieving. It was another monday in chem 204—unforgiving and way too early—but everything felt different.

Maybe because you were still riding the high from last night.

Jesse slouched next to you at your shared lab bench, scrolling through the instructions on the tablet like he hadn’t just watched half your apartment get turned into a frat-adjacent crime scene last night.

“Honestly,” he mumbled, cracking open a vial, “I don’t know how there was that much glitter. Like—do they make concentrated glitter now?”

You nodded absently, measuring out sodium bicarbonate, pretending to listen. You weren’t.

Because across the room—station C3—Ellie Williams was setting up her beakers and pipettes like it was just another lab day. Like she hadn’t kissed you in your living room until your knees felt like static.

Her hair was pulled back in a low bun. Same hoodie from the party, layered over a different science-pun T-shirt (“If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the precipitate”). You nearly choked on your own breath when you saw her walk in.

You’d barely said anything to each other this morning. A single text.

y/n: didn’t dream that right?

els: nope. you kissed me. pretty sure that was real.

And now she was here, four tables away, trying to act like she wasn’t sneaking glances at you every ten seconds.

You caught her eye again just as she pretended to adjust a burner. She bit her bottom lip, hiding a smile.

You smirked, turning back to your experiment as your cheeks flushed warm.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Okay, what's going on with you?”

“Hm?” you said, a little too quickly.

“You’ve measured the same solution three times. And you’re smiling at… baking soda.”

You blinked. “Oh, just… really love chemistry.”

Jesse gave you a flat look. “You’re a communications major.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you risked another glance.

Ellie was pretending to take notes, her pen unmoving on the paper. She looked up and met your eyes.

And that smile again—shy and smug and like she was remembering every second from last night.

You mouthed, hi.

She mouthed, hey, like it meant more than it should.

Across the lab, burners hissed and partners whispered, and Jesse kept muttering something about your measurements being off, but none of it mattered. Not really (yes really, you were being graded on efficiency).

Because you and Ellie were caught in your own little chemistry equation.

The study room smelled like old paper and floor cleaner, with the buzzing of overhead lights that had probably been flickering since 2013. One wall was all glass, offering a clear view of the rest of the library, but inside—at this small round table surrounded by mismatched chairs—it felt like its own little world.

Four laptops were open. A tangle of wires, coffee cups, and half-eaten snacks sat between all of you. Textbooks were scattered in varying degrees of neglect.

Jesse and Dina sat shoulder to shoulder, her legs thrown over his lap, both of them wearing matching hoodies they definitely stole from each other. Jesse was quizzing her on anatomy flashcards.

“Name the bone that connects the shoulder to the elbow,” he said.

“Your arm bone,” Dina said.

He stared at her. “You mean the humerus?”

“That’s what I said.”

Meanwhile, you and Ellie sat directly across from each other, separated by one open chemistry binder and roughly three inches of space.

Ellie was pretending to read. You were pretending to highlight something useful. Neither of you were doing a very good job at hiding it.

“Hey,” you said quietly.

Ellie looked up so fast she almost knocked over her iced coffee. “Hey.”

You smiled, nervous and warm. “How was your day?”

She blinked like you’d asked her to recite the periodic table backwards. “Oh. Um—good. Pretty average. I made a perfect hexane compound model in lab, which I know is thrilling content.”

“Super hot,” you whispered, teasing her.

Ellie let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of her neck. “You?”

“Also thrilling. I watched three people fight over a toaster in the dining hall. Guy nearly cried.”

She snorted, trying to hide her smile behind her sleeve. “College is wild.”

You nodded. “We’re living the dream.”

Neither of you moved, neither of you said anything else for a second. You could hear Dina kissing her teeth as Jesse tried to explain what a scapula was. Ellie’s fingers drummed lightly against the edge of the table. Yours were close by.

Then—so soft you weren’t sure it was on purpose—her pinky brushed against yours.

You didn’t move, didn't look away. Just slid your hand a little closer.

She didn’t pull back.

Your fingers touched. Not holding hands, not really. Just touching. Playing, in that quiet kind of way that made your pulse skip. Her nail grazed your knuckle. Yours traced the side of her finger.

It was nothing but everything at the same time.

Ellie glanced down once then looked back at you. Her cheeks pink.

“You’re not… freaking out?” she asked, voice low so only you could hear.

“Not unless you are.”

She shook her head slowly. “Not freaking out.”

You smiled. “Cool, me neither. Totally chill. Definitely not counting how many times you blink.”

Ellie laughed—really laughed this time, head tilted back slightly. Jesse looked over.

“Ellie, you good?”

Ellie cleared her throat, sat up straighter. “Yeah, just… bonding over carbon chains.”

Dina snorted. “That’s what the kids are calling it now?”

You both looked down, hands slipping apart for a second—but not for long.

Because two minutes later, your fingers found hers again, underneath the table this time.

The booth was sticky. The lighting too yellow for your taste. The laminated menus hadn’t been cleaned properly since at least last tuesday. And still, somehow, it felt perfect.

You sat across from Ellie in a near-empty waffle house, the windows fogged slightly from the steam of the kitchen and the chill outside. A waitress with a name tag that read “barb” had taken your order without judgment, like she’d seen hundreds of college kids walk in with wide eyes and not-a-date date energy.

Ellie sat curled into the corner of the booth, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, chewing on the straw in her coke.

“This isn’t a date,” she said for the third time, obviously shitting her pants (metaphorically) from nerves.

You grinned over your mug of watery coffee. “Definitely not. Just two people eating waffles alone together at midnight.”

“Yeah,” Ellie said, nodding solemnly. “Very casual...very platonic.

You both broke out into quiet, giddy laughter.

The cook called something from the kitchen, and a plate clattered onto the pass-through window.

Ellie drummed her fingers on the table, then looked at you with that shy little tilt to her head. “So, tell me a weird fact about your childhood.”

“Oh, we’re doing that game now?” you teased.

“It’s tradition, non-date waffle house rules.”

You thought for a second. “Okay. When I was eight, I was completely obsessed with those mini baking ovens. Like—the easy-bake ones? I made the weirdest, driest little cakes and forced my parents to eat them.”

Ellie cracked a grin. “Were they good?”

“They were inedible. I made ‘pizza bagels’ once and nearly set the microwave on fire.”

She laughed, eyes crinkling. “That’s actually kinda badass, future arsonist vibes.”

“I prefer ‘culinary visionary,’” you said, mock offended.

Ellie smirked. “Alright, alright. My turn.”

She leaned back, eyes scanning the ceiling like she was pulling the memory from deep storage. “When I was ten, Joel taught me how to carve wood. Like—real, pocket-knife, dangerous shit. First thing I ever made was a little dinosaur, looked more like a lumpy potato with legs, but I was proud.”

You blinked, surprised. “Joel taught you?”

“Yeah,” she said, voice softening. “He’s kind of a hard-ass, but… he has this whole woodworking setup in the garage. Said it was good for patience... said I needed that.”

You smiled. “Do you still do it?”

Ellie shrugged, suddenly shy again. “Sometimes. It’s easier than talking, most days.”

There was a pause—comfortable, warm.

You reached across the table, gently nudging her fingers. “That’s really cool.”

She glanced down at your hand, then up at you, cheeks pink. “You ever wanna bake something not in a microwave, we could, uh… make a weird trade. Wood-carving for baking.”

You raised a brow. “Are you asking me on a real date now?”

Ellie grinned, eyes flicking away. “Maybe, you into lumpy dinosaurs and waffles?”

“Very,” you said, grinning back. “But only if you eat my awful cupcakes.”

Barb dropped off your plates with a tired smile, and neither of you reached for them right away.

You were too busy smiling like idiots, pretending this still wasn’t a date—even if you both knew it was.

The first bite of waffles hit like a religious experience.

You closed your eyes dramatically. “Holy hell.”

Ellie was halfway through her own plate of hash browns, looking similarly awed. “Why is this so good? Have we just been eating garbage all semester?”

“We have been eating garbage all semester,” you said through a mouthful of syrup. “This is real food, god-tier.”

Ellie grinned, syrup on the corner of her mouth, pointing at your plate. “You gonna finish that bacon?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Touch it and die.”

The banter went on like that, easy and unfiltered, between bites that got messier and sloppier as neither of you cared about being “cute” anymore. Hunger trumped awkwardness. You were both suddenly seventeen again, staying up too late and eating like you’d never see a kitchen again.

By the time you were both leaning back in the booth, plates cleared and stomachs full, you were practically melting into the vinyl.

Ellie glanced at you. “You wanna… come over? I mean—not like that,” she rushed, ears going pink, “just—I live super close and I have, like… tea? Or something.”

You tried not to smile too hard. “Tea sounds dangerous.”

She rolled her eyes. “Totally reckless and wild.”

+

It was small, but the kind of small that felt lived-in, cozy. You stepped through the door and took it all in slowly; stacks of books lined the floor by the windows, a second-hand couch facing a tiny TV, shelves full of random junk—rocks, figurines, more than a few cracked mugs. But what caught your eye were the walls.

Framed Savage Starlight comics, a whole set. Not just pinned—framed. Carefully, reverently, like museum pieces.

And above her desk, posters of galaxies and star charts, some yellowed at the edges, others so crisp they must’ve been recent finds. NASA logos. A glow-in-the-dark moon.

You turned in place, smiling. “Okay. You are, officially, a dork.”

Ellie rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah, well… I had a phase.”

“You’re still in it.”

“Shut up,” she muttered, but she was smiling too, leaning against the kitchenette counter, arms crossed like she was trying to act unbothered. But you could see the twitch in her jaw, the way she kept flicking her eyes toward you—checking your reaction like this was some test she hadn’t studied for.

You walked over to the comics, pretending to inspect them like a snooty art critic. “Wow, this one’s worth, like, eighty bucks on ebay. Should I steal it?”

Ellie snorted. “Touch it and die.”

You looked over your shoulder, smirking. “Hey, that's my line.”

She blinked, caught off-guard, then laughed. “Damn, you're right.”

The silence that followed was soft, expectant. You weren’t doing anything particularly romantic—just… existing in her space. Letting her show you who she was without saying it out loud.

And Ellie, trying so hard to play it cool, stood there like her whole body was buzzing.

You finally turned fully to her. “I like your place.”

She nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s very… you.”

“Messy and space-obsessed?”

You shrugged, stepping closer. “Exactly my type.”

Ellie flushed instantly, looking down at her feet. “You’re impossible.”

You leaned against the counter next to her, close enough that your shoulders brushed together.

“Still not a date, by the way,” you said quietly.

She glanced sideways at you. “Definitely not.”

Ellie made the tea, or something vaguely like tea. It tasted like cardboard and chamomile, but you drank it anyway because she’d nervously handed it to you like it was a sacred offering.

Now the two of you were squeezed onto her too-small couch, feet tangled awkwardly over a throw blanket that smelled like laundry detergent and cedar. The TV was on but muted—some old sci-fi movie flickering in black and white, just enough to give the room a quiet glow.

You were pressed shoulder to shoulder, legs brushing occasionally, both pretending it wasn’t happening.

Ellie sipped her tea too fast, like it gave her something to do. “Sorry there’s, like, no room. It’s, uh— a studio. I didn’t think this far ahead.” An awkward frown on her face as she looked at you.

You tilted your head towards her, smiling gently. “You mean you don’t prepare for late-night almost-date hangouts with every girl you share waffles with?”

Ellie choked on her tea.

You patted her back as she coughed, laughing softly. “I’m kidding.”

“No, you’re not,” she muttered, grinning despite her face turning red. “You’re such a menace.”

You didn’t answer. Just let the moment settle. The silence wasn’t awkward anymore—just full, soft. The kind of quiet that feels like permission to say something you wouldn’t normally say.

She turned to look at you, eyes a little tired but warm. “Hey.”

You looked back. “Yeah?”

Ellie opened her mouth, then closed it. Looked at your mouth, then looked away. “…Nothing.”

You reached up gently, brushing her knuckles with yours again, the same way you had in the library.

“Ellie.”

She looked at you again. This time, neither of you looked away.

The kiss was barely a kiss—more hesitation than action. Her lips brushed yours like a question, like she was waiting for you to pull back. You didn’t.

You kissed her again, slower this time, still unsure, both of you smiling into it like idiots. It wasn’t perfect—your noses bumped, and the angle was weird on the tiny couch—but it didn’t matter.

It was clumsy, real. Warm.

Ellie pulled back, blinking, breath hitching as she let out a soft laugh. “Okay, so that happened..”

You nodded. “yeah..”

“Still not a date, though.”

“Definitely not.”

The two of you didn’t move for a moment, just stared at each other, hearts in your throats. Then Ellie shifted, slumping sideways, and you followed, curling instinctively against her.

You fit together like it had been waiting to happen.

Her arm tucked behind your shoulders. Your hand found hers again. The TV kept flickering, casting faint shadows over the framed comics and cluttered bookshelves.

And slowly, the tension melted away. Your breathing slowed down to sync with hers, your limbs tangled, and Ellie’s cheek rested against the top of your head.

By the time sleep came, the awkwardness had faded into something quieter. Something sweeter.

The living room was a controlled disaster.

Half a pizza sat in its box on the coffee table, two different board games were half-set-up and ignored, and someone (probably Jesse) had spilled root beer and made a failed attempt at cleaning it up with paper towels. The overhead light was off (thank god), replaced by the soft flicker of some D-list sci-fi movie Ellie had insisted on playing “for the vibes.” A spaceship exploded in the background as someone screamed something about “quantum portals.”

Ellie sat on the floor, legs crossed, chewing on a twizzler and pretending not to be pressed up against your leg.

You were half-leaning on the couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, your knee bumping hers every few minutes like it was casual. It wasn’t. She still gave you that same flustered little glance every time it happened.

You were officially girlfriends now. You’d said it—out loud, with words and everything, a few weeks ago. Maybe longer. But apparently the universe didn’t care, because you still flirted like it was week one.

“Okay,” Jesse said from across the room, holding up a card from the trivia game that had been abandoned twenty minutes ago. “New question. When, officially, do you two stop acting like you just brushed hands for the first time in a high school hallway?”

Dina cackled, curled into Jesse’s side like she lived there. “Seriously, it’s like watching a coming-of-age movie in real time.”

You groaned, reaching for a throw pillow. “I hate both of you.”

“You hate us?” Jesse leaned forward, pointing at you with a chip. “Ellie literally flinched when you tucked her hair behind her ear two hours ago. I saw it. It was like she was struck by lightning dude.”

Ellie, still chewing her twizzler, raised her hands. “Okay. In my defense, she does that thing with her thumb—on my cheek—and I’m not built for that level of affection, alright?”

You covered your face with your hoodie sleeves, muffling a laugh. “You’re such a nerd, ohmygod.”

“You’re dating this nerd,” Ellie shot back, poking your side.

You poked her back. It devolved into a low-effort war of soft jabs and teasing mutters in front of Jesse and Dina.

“Exhibit A,” Dina said, waving a hand. “Couple of actual teenagers.”

Jesse leaned over to her. “Should we leave them alone? Or, like, offer juice boxes and tell their parents they’re holding hands after school?”

You flipped them both off with a smile. “This is harassment.”

“This is friendship,” Jesse corrected, raising his root beer. “And we’re proud of you, but also painfully aware of how soft you both are now.”

Ellie leaned into you just slightly, like she didn’t mean to. You bumped her back.

The sci-fi movie in the background exploded again—something about a failed wormhole this time.

You sighed dramatically. “Next time we’re watching a rom-com.”

Ellie glanced over, mouth twitching into a smirk. “You’re really gonna try and make me watch 27 dresses again?”

“Hell yes, I am.”

Jesse groaned. “God help us.”

Dina nodded solemnly. “The true horror genre.”

And just like that, it settled—easy, familiar. You and Ellie, curled up together in the chaos. Still awkward, still soft, still brushing hands like it was brand new.

Girlfriends, yeah. The kind who talked about sci-fi movies like they mattered and touched each other like they still couldn’t believe they were allowed to.

The best kind.

[squshymarsh]

DCxDp idea.

Danny does Science

Danny is a chemist who posts videos online of random experiments he does. Each video is a little unhinged, he says some out of pocket stuff and the editing is gold. (I’m thinking like NileRed on YouTube but mix it with that funny cooking guy from TT)

He does all of his experiments in his parent’s lab when they aren’t using it.

Most of the videos are educational, entertaining and just an interesting watch. Giving how he explains the components, process and uses of each and every experiment he does.

Sure every now and then he gets shot at or attacked by automated weapons or the giant doors open behind him to show off a swirling void of green that comes with ungodly sounds. And yeah maybe his science comes to life when he isn’t looking and tries to ambush him from behind.

But it’s still educational. Just very interestingly educational.

[babachira]

an assassin and his healer

nagumo yoichi x doctor!reader

── ⟢

+ having graduated with an assassination-medical major, a very small sub-department in the JCC where only the skilled in human science are found, you're technically a licensed doctor for any regular citizen who wants a simple check-up. you have a job in the clinic near sakamoto's store during the day, but during your assassination hours, you deal with injuries ranging from critical to a scratch. you took four years of apprenticeship under granny miya, so you tend to follow her ideology of 'the patient can be healed as long as they're not dead'.

+ your graduation was a special case. the JCC considered scrapping your department due to the lack of applications, but you excelled in combining the assets of poisons and weapons, making equipment like a portable bandaid or even discovering the smallest of pressure points that could enhance someone's strength, which floored their views. after witnessing a presentation of your projects, they decided to keep it up and running just to see what you were capable of, and thank god they did, otherwise, you would've had nowhere to go.

+ you met the famous trio during their prime when you were all 16, and you were fully aware of the fact that if they had no interest in someone, it would be drastically clear. you thought this was the case for you too since no one really appreciated your work because it wasn't 'strong' like the assassination majors, but when you received a personal congrats from them, it took you by surprse.

+ hell, when you saw them enter your lab without a word, you quirked your brows, pausing from pulling the trigger of your flamethrower. upon request from your weapons department friends, you were in the middle of melting a large batch of energy-fuelling pills. you slowly put the flamethrower down on your desk. "if i knew i was having such esteemed guests, i would've cleaned the place up a bit. to what do i owe the pleasure?"

+ but before they could answer, the three of them were hovering over your pile of books, empty beakers and box of surgical equipment. rion plucked a grey glass bottle from your top shelf, which you reserved for your most expensive creations, before popping the lid off.

+ she sniffed the top of it and gave a "hm!" of approval before taking a swig. "wow, this is actually pretty good," rion said, smacking her lips together and offering some to sakamoto, who only took the bottle from her hands, "what's this one for? my stomach feels like it's doing backflips."

+ you folded your arms. "that's because it's for serious internal bleeding. you're only really meant to take it when, you know, you're only puking an alarming amount of blood." rion nodded in acknowledgement and dangled the empty bottle with a grin. "ah, gotcha. no internal bleeding for me now!"

+ "mmm, i prefer this flavour." your eyes flit over to nagumo yoichi, the insufferable student that had all the girls swooning in seconds, swiping four potions from your shelf and stuffing them in his pocket. "i'll come back again to try more!"

+ "wait, you just came here to take my stuff?" you asked, stopping the three in their tracks. sure, it's . . . fine that they stole your things without permission, but your lab was usually off-limits for those who didn't belong in your department. well, now that you think about it, when did these three ever follow rules?

+ rion waved her hand. "we'd love to talk, babes, but we gotta dash. will use these potions well, though!"

+ and nagumo added with a more enthusiastic wave, "keep a separate shelf just for me!"

+ and they left, leaving you to finish your work of delivering pills to the weapons department. they were a funny bunch, you always thought as you sometimes passed by them in the hallway. rion would always strike a conversation whenever you bumped into each other. she was always so sweet to you. sakamoto occasionally asked how your projects were going since it was a season of missions being carried out more often than ever, so you were ever-so-busy with surgeries. nagumo had the biggest grin on his face as he bombarded you with requests like a strawberry and lemon flavoured potion for his fatigue. they were strange but fun all the same.

+ since then, they made a common appearance, sometimes it was just rion who wanted to have a chat. you got along well, getting to know her likes and dislikes, laughing along when she verbally tore sakamoto and nagumo apart like they were shreds of paper. other times, it was nagumo alone and when it was just him, it was like a spitfire of insults after insults.

+ when nagumo is fiddling with one of your brain-relaxing equipments that you made just a week ago, he realises that you're a lot quieter when it's just him, when rion and sakamoto aren't present. "hm? why is it when akao and sakamoto are here, you have so much to say, but you're silent when it's me?" and honestly, it felt like a big slap to the face because wow, it was true.

+ ". . . shut up," you said, earning a chuckle from him. "the whole building will be able to hear you yapping."

+ today, a few years after their first intrusion in your lab, nagumo is taller and different at the age of 19. he wasn't more mature per se, but he definitely carried a more confident wittier aura that you didn't recognise from before. you, at 19 were renowned for your fantastic creations. one of your best moments was when you received a commission from an order member albeit a small one. your efforts were so well-recognised that applications for your department were growing much to your pleasure. rion congratulated you a lot, sakamoto actually used your creations and nagumo had never broken his streak of making sure to visit you almost everyday.

+ and you don't know when you started to feel this way, but whenever nagumo entered the room, time seemed to go painfully slower as though he was staying in your lab for longer than you thought. your equations for perfecting brain damage potions seemed harder than normal and you just couldn't seem to find that one blueprint that was always in its same place. even nagumo went, "it's this one, no? it was right under your hands" much to your embarrassment. your brain was scattered whenever he was near you and you really hated it.

+ and what was worse is that he noticed all this and was enjoying it.

+ "is my (name) . . . a little distracted?"

+ yes, yes. infuriatingly so, you think as you watch nagumo bounce over to where you stand in the far corner of your lab. he has that mischevious grin, the one that you want to melt off his annoyingly-handsome face. did it never occur to him that you couldn't work at your best whenever his talkative ass was in the room? is he really that stupid that you have to say, "nagumo, i need to do my work," then deal with those big eyes of his begging to stay? if he was a little less insufferable, maybe you would've─

+ you freeze. wait, he said 'my?'

+ and nagumo, his face creased with laughter, sees the cogs whir in your brain as you finally realise that he really just indirectly labelled you as his.

+ "don't tell me you've been ignoring me for that long."

+ and much to your dismay, it hits you that yeah, he's always been there. "wow! my (name) seems to like today's lunch! i don't see you here that often!" he once commented when you sat with him at the cafeteria. "the food's not always so great, but today seems ok."

+ or the other time when you had a first-year student schedule an appointment with you because he wanted advice for his weapons. nagumo saw him waiting outside your lab. "hmm, my (name) is a bit busy today! why don't you come back later?" he said while he was opening the door to waltz in, "ah! my (name) i've come to bother you!" he sang before slamming the door. you didn't manage to see the poor kid because nagumo took up your entire evening.

+ and you really did find yourself making a separate cabinet just for nagumo. even to this day, at the ripe age of 27, you made soothing creams for burns, motion sickness pills and gums for him to chew on for whenever osaragi would drive. his placement as an order member made him busier but never enough to keep him away from you. whenever you're at the clinic for your day-job, nagumo made frequent appearances. he'd lean on the front desk and request for his usual "lovely, lovely and beautifully perfected doctor," even when you're literally standing there, typing away at the computer. "yoichi, you're really doing this on my shift." it would never stop him. "i am your shift!"

+ he's surprisingly romantic for someone with little dating history. he's had a few girlfriends in the past but because of his occupation, they obviously don't last long. with you though? though not a fully-fledged assassin yourself, you're part of that world, his world, so you understand the burden and pressure that comes with it. just like nagumo is tasked with completing his missions with no mistakes, you're equally expected to never fail a surgery, always finish on time and come up with new ideas. it's a cycle where you both have each other backs.

+ like, as much as he jokes, he's very proud of your achievements. as an order member himself, he'd probably commission you a lot and if anyone needs surgical assistance or high-tech weapons, he'd be quick to mention your name. of course, he hesitates just a little because he doesn't want to share, but for the better of your work, he puts your name out there.

+ he doesn't get heavily injured because he's scarily skilled. his 'gold assassin's license' that he boasts about keeps him protected, but just to rile you up, he'd limp in through your clinic or house, crying for the kiss of the doctor that he's come to adore. if you're at the clinic, you need to appear more professional because you have people you see everyday watching you care for this grown ass man wailing his guts out. if you're at home, you're much more relaxed and honestly, so's nagumo as he leans into your delicate touch.

+ generally, he's so proud and whipped about the fact that you're a doctor and are so capable of doing what you do. he has extensive knowledge on poisons, so he tries to add his recommendations from time to time and he's grateful whenever you take it. on the rare case that you don't, he acts hurt, "oh . . . my (name) doesn't like my idea," and he'd jokingly mope until you kiss his ego better. anything can solve this man's problems if you silence him with a kiss.

+ sakamoto's like ". . . please tell me you did not get with nagumo," and nagumo finds this hilarious. he's like, "i have an idea! let's go on double dates with you, me, aoi and (name)!" to which sakamoto rejects. he doesn't mind the idea of you being friends with his wife, of course, but he doesn't want to take nagumo anywhere.

+ sometimes, he'd disguise himself as you and nonchalantly act as if he's doing chores in your house until you come back home. so when he sees you, he points and goes, "an imposter!" and at this point, you play along, "there's my doppelganger. can you give me back my boyfriend, please." and as soon as you say that, he transforms back and grabs you.

+ life with this mf is a wild ride, but honestly, you signed up for it, so good luck. once his eyes are set on someone, he goes all in and is not about to give it up. especially when he knows how serious you are about him and he is for you. a match made in heaven!

[chara-cat5]

lads college au

jealousy pre relationship

this is a college au in a normal modern universe (ours). theres no evols. gender neural mc/reader

(this is when they start realizing their feelings and if they aren't ignoring it oop 😶)

before y'all are dating or even really romantically interested. just buds. for now 👀

masterlist link

caleb-

you were just leaving class, checking your phone for any texts when someone tapped your shoulder. your met with an awkward smile and lost looking boy.

"sorry to bother you, but do you know where the science labs are?"

you hummed, a small smile on your lips as you nodded, slipping your phone back in your pocket.

"oh yeah, your in the wrong building actually. the science buildings are in the left wing of the campus. labs are in building 5. do you know which lab you're supposed to be in? i can probably tell you which floor at least.

he nodded, pulling out a paper that most likely had his class information jotted down on it to check. before you could look, an arm was suddenly around your waist and a familiar face bending down into your line of sight. caleb's head tilted down, his purple eyes locked on you as he smiled.

"hey pips, i was looking for you. did you see my texts?"

you blinked at him, slightly startled but shaking your head.

"i was helping this guy find his class."

you turned your gaze back to the now nervous man, looking at the paper.

"lab 205 is on the second floor on the left. right by the water fountain."

caleb, unbeknownst to you was absolutely glaring at this poor boy. he was frustrated how you brushed off his presence for what? this guy? how dare he steal your attention? he's standing right here and you didn't even look at the funny joke he sent!

"uh- t-thank you. i'll be on my way then..."

the boy took a step back, nodding to the two of you before rushing off. you tilted your head, about to turn back to caleb when you felt his chin rest on your shoulder.

"piiiiiips. my message? did you see it?"

you sighed softly as you pulled your phone back out, rolling your eyes.

"not yet caleb. i'll look at it right now, okay?"

he hummed softly, eyes watching you. he tugged you to start walking, leading the way to the cafeteria while you looked.

"thank you! you can laugh at it while we eat."

as the two of you walked, he couldn't help but think about the way his stomach had dropped at the sight of you smiling at the boy. it was a weird feeling- not unfamiliar- but still... to have that for you?

"it's nothing. i just don't like creeps looking at them... right?"

--------------------------------------------------------

zayne-

you hummed softly to yourself as you looked at the shelf, hunting a book that would be a great reference for you and zayne's project. you ran your finger over the spines, your head tilted to the side as you read them. a throat clearing made you pause, looking over to the source, a friendly looking blond.

"hey, do you mind telling me where study room 7 is?"

you returned his smile, walking to the end of the aisle where he was, voice lowered for the other library goes.

"yeah, the study rooms are down the hallway on the left. if you want room 7, you'll go out that door, turn right and go down until-"

"you were taking a while, did you get... lost..."

zayne apparently got tired of waiting, coming around the other side of the aisle, spotting you and the boy huddled together. you glanced back, waving before finishing with your directions.

"go until you see a blue door on the left. room 7 is closer to the end of the hallway."

"thank you. i thought they were in here but i guess i was wrong."

you nodded, shifting on your feet as you felt zayne's eyes on you.

"he's probably getting annoyed i'm wasting working time. i should wrap this up."

"thats understandable. anyway, i hope you find it."

he nodded with a smile, not really taking the hint to leave.

"it should be easy with your directions. i'm guessing you use the study rooms often, huh? you seem like the smart type."

"oh, uh yeah, i guess. i do use them pretty often. um, i-"

"thats cool. maybe we can share one sometime, ya know? help each other study?"

jeez was this guy talkative. and now he's bordering on pushy. thankfully a cool hand rested on your shoulder, zayne standing right behind you.

"we're actually in the middle of a project if you don't mind. also, the study rooms are by the hour so you are wasting your money the longer you chat here."

blond boy seems to deflate slightly at zayne's monotone voice, taking a needed step back.

"o-oh shoot, you're right. whelp, guess i better head, heh heh."

he turned around, speed walking his way out of the library while zayne slipped his hand off your shoulder. when you turned around he was looking at the shelf, looking for the book you were supposed to get.

"i'm sorry, zayne. he was asking for directions and i figured i could just give them to him real quick. i didn't mean to make you wait."

he hummed softly, picking up the book from the shelf, his gaze turning to you.

"there's no need to apologize. i understand. lets just get back to work."

as he led the way back to your table, he wondered if his actions came off the wrong way. would you think he was being controlling or jealous? was he jealous? no, no way, right?

"it was merely he was making her uncomfortable. i am not that immature..."

--------------------------------------------------------

sylus-

you were waiting for your boys to hang out with you, a plan to binge movies and eat junk food together once you got home. they hadn't seen a lot of the movies you'd grown up on and thus far, sylus's commentary had been hilarious. you were going through you bag of treats, running through the list of movies you wanted to watch.

"excuse me, do you think you can tell me where i can find this flower shop? i've been looking for hours."

you looked up to see a tired looking man, holding up his phone. you gave him a small smile, nodding as you stepped closer to look at his phone.

"sure. let see... oh, i pass that place all the time. it's just down the street on the left."

you pointed in the direction, turning your gaze back to him.

"they have the prettiest flowers really."

"yeah. my girlfriend has wanted some for a while but i can never find the shop. they make these bouquets that represent you and your relationship? i'm not sure but she's obsessed with them.

before you can respond, an arm is around your waist, tufts of white hair in the coroner of your eye.

"is he bothering you, kitten?"

before you can even shake your head, the twins are in the poor man's face, pulling strange faces to freak him out.

"are you bothering little boss?"

"back off from them!"

he took a step back, looking between the four of your faces, laughing nervously.

"i- uh- i'll just get going then. thank you for the directions."

as he fled, you glanced up at sylus with raised eyebrows. he sighed, slipping his arm from around your waist.

"thats enough boys."

he turned his gaze back to you, a slight smirk on his lips.

"apologize, sweetie. it was merely a precaution."

you sighed rolling your eyes. as you four started toward your apartment, you began bickering with the twins. sylus followed along, his gaze on you as your eyebrows pinched in annoyance. his smirk grew a little, amusement in his gaze.

"sorry, kitten, but i fear i've gotten attached."

--------------------------------------------------------

xaviar-

you hummed softly as you walked down the sidewalk, on your way to you and xavier's favorite hot pot place. it had become a habit really. thursdays you went out, at hot pot then played video games together. as you paused by the door, glancing at your phone to see if he was there yet, a young man stepped closer.

"um, excuse me, but can i ask for directions to a bakery by chance?"

you looked up, nodding as you pocketed your phone.

"oh, sure, what's it called?"

"thank you so much, i'm already late. i'm supposed apprentice there and- and the name! right it's call four bakery."

you nodded, pointing down the street. as you did so, you didn't notice the form almost appearing behind you, face and eyes dark.

"it's just gonna be-"

"oh- i um- t-thank you, i'll just- i'll figure it out!"

he scrambled away awkwardly, his eyes betraying his nerves.

"... i didn't even say anything yet..."

a voice behind you made you turn, meeting soft, blue eyes.

"oh, xavier! hi, you're here."

"i am. are you ready for hot pot?"

"yes! yes i'm ready."

as you got inside and ready to eat, xaiver's thoughts barely traveled.

"was that over the top scaring him? nah. what should i add to the hot pot today?"

--------------------------------------------------------

rafayel-

art class had just finished and you and rafayel walked out, chatting quietly. he let out a soft curse, stopping in his tracks.

"wait here, cutie, i forgot my phone."

"be quick, fish brain!"

he ran off back down the hallway while you leaned against the wall, tugging out your own phone.

"excuse me, do you know where the english literature classroom is?"

you looked up to meet this boy's gaze, putting your phone back away.

"maybe, do you know the teacher or classroom number?"

"oh yeah the teacher is mr. bell."

you nodded with a smile, lips parted to direct him when your body was tugged into a chest, their arms around yours.

"found my phone. lets go go go!"

rafayel tugged you along, making you yelp as you tried not to fall.

"raf- wait!"

he didn't let up and you only groaned, glancing back to the boy.

"it's the classroom on the right at the end of the hall!"

he smiled awkwardly, waving before moving on. as you turned to glare at the back of rafayel's head, he only pouted, tugging you along.

"seriously, cutie? i leave you for five seconds and you are already replaced me? you promised to play at the arcade with me, not whoever he was."

you sighed, rolling your eyes at his dramatic ass.

"i was just giving him directions, raf. i wasn't making plans to hang out."

he continued to pout but didn't respond, the tips of his ears turning red.

"w-whatever, lets just get going."

would he ever admit he was jealous? no, but rafayel is more open with his wants then the others.

--------------------------------------------------------

thank you for reading

-chara <3

[liwinly]

( 𖹭 ) ACCIDENTALLY PERFECT, JUST LIKE US

────── MON AMOUR you are my hearts favorite accident , no lie

【 𝒜 rchive 】 enha hyung line x f!r ꢾ꣒ fluff teen romance 600wc awkwardness skinship

ꢾ꣒ REBLOGS & FEEDBACKS

HEESEUNG y/n was sitting on the floor of the library, trying to look normal while definitely not watching heeseung from behind a book about frogs. heeseung, in his oversized hoodie and messy hair, looked like he walked out of a dream. or a really cute music video.

"hey," he said, suddenly right in front of her. y/n's heart jumped out of her body and ran a lap.

"hi," she whispered, cool and she was totally not blushing.

"i saw you staring," he grinned, plopping down beside her. "was it the hoodie? it’s giving mysterious heartthrob, right?"

y/n laughed, "more like confused puppy."

he pretended to be offended, but his smile gave him away.

and then he pulled out a cookie from his pocket.

"wanna share?"

she took it.

and maybe also his heart a little bit.

they were the perfect pair. like cookies and hiding in the library.

JAY y/n was horrible at science. like. epically bad. explosions-in-the-lab bad.

so when mr. choi said “you’ll be partnered with jay”, she nearly evaporated. jay, the guy who smelled like vanilla and wore rings and somehow made safety goggles look good.

“don’t worry,” he said, smiling as he handed her a beaker, “we’ll get an A… or at least avoid setting the school on fire.”

y/n giggled, already dropping something. Water. he just laughed and helped her clean it up, his fingers brushing hers.

her brain short-circuited.

by the end of the project, they had a half-working volcano, a weird inside joke about frogs, and jay had written “the perfect pair” on their report cover with a little smiley face.

“that’s us,” he whispered before walking away.

y/n nearly combusted.

maybe science wasn’t so bad after all.

JAKE y/n hated gym class. like why were they making her run?? for fun???

but then—boom. jake, the boy with golden retriever energy and a smile that could cure actual sadness, jogged up next to her.

“we’re partners for dodgeball!” he said like it was the best thing ever.

y/n blinked. “i can’t dodge.”

“don’t worry,” he grinned, “i’ll protect you.”

and he did. like full-on superhero mode. arms out, jumping around, getting hit instead of her. she was standing there like a confused little lettuce.

“you okay??” he asked after the game, sweaty and breathless.

y/n nodded. “you literally got hit ten times.”

“worth it,” he said, smiling like he meant it. “we’re the perfect pair, remember?”

she didn’t remember agreeing to that.

but she wasn’t complaining.

especially when he gave her his juice box after. strawberry. her favorite.

SUNGHOON y/n had never been ice skating before. so naturally, she thought she was gonna die.

and of course, sunghoon—figure skating legend, pretty boy, and certified menace—was the one who decided to teach her.

“just hold onto me,” he said, holding out his hand all casually, like this was no big deal.

y/n grabbed it like her life depended on it.

she slipped once every five seconds, and every time, sunghoon would laugh—soft and sparkly—and catch her.

“you’re doing so good,” he said, even though she was basically a human noodle on skates.

by the end, she could barely glide, but he still gave her a high five and said, “we made a good team, huh?”

“barely,” she said.

he grinned. “we’re the perfect pair though.”

and suddenly, the ice didn’t feel so scary anymore.

( 🌹 ) @chrrific @irasvr @amoressb @woniefication @cheruphic @ijustwannareadstuff20 @puma-riki

© liwinly — all rights reserved

[poisoned-fruit-prose]

𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥.

synop: viktor is upset with you. the walls are closing in on your identity. you have nowhere to turn but away.

wc: 2.4k.

request from anon: Your Viktor X mage reader is so GOOD!!! It made me so happy considering that my oc is a mage and works with Viktor and Jayce! If you have time, could you maybe write something in the same scenario (reader being a mage, working with the boys on Hextech + dating Viktor) but where the reader had been hiding that they're a mage and now they have to confess it to the boys and explain why they understand the arcane so unusually well? So sorry if this is worded badly, and if you don't want to write it that's perfectly fine! Have a great day/night!! -🦖

includes: hurt/comfort. happy (?) ending.

author's note: i do apologize that i couldn't fit jayce into here, but i think we all know he'd just wag his tail and perk his ears up and love you all the same. (...puppy-coded jayce x reader fic, anyone?)

“It’s almost as if you already know how this all works.”

Viktor’s words made you freeze.

Hextech was beginning to reek with magic. There were jumps in logic that were far too great for science; it was you, mucking up information, crafting runes, testing things that made no sense to a non-magical mind, one that didn’t possess your internal compass. Viktor and Jayce were along for the ride at the beginning, but the explosive success of the Hexgates and the novelty of the technology’s potential was fading into careful study—a form of work that would expose your abilities and leave you vulnerable to accusations like Viktor’s.

But you didn’t already know how it all worked. Magic was an unknowable thing; it was a plane above you, surging through you in ways you’d never fully understand, not within your lifetime. You were working merely off these fleeting moments where magic, instead of your mind or even your heart, guided you. Magic told you where to step—it didn’t tell you why, it didn’t bother to explain, and it most certainly didn’t care how it appeared to the rest of the world.

It was only a matter of time before your “genius” was seen more as prescience. You no longer had a simple knack for the arcane. You were now a hostile guard of secrets that would otherwise better the world. It just broke your heart that it was Viktor who saw through it first. That he’d have to be the first to be bear your burden.

His words bit with little subtlety. It was late. Desk lamps glowed a harsh white, washing out his already pallor skin and exacerbating the bags hanging beneath his eyes. You didn’t know if he already suspected your abilities, but you now knew he most certainly noticed how you stumbled through every technicality yet were still, always, ten steps ahead of him.

Maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was sleep deprivation, maybe you were looking too far into it all. But you could only respond with nothing. Your mouth hung agape for a moment before snapping shut. You fled the lab. He didn’t follow.

You retreated to the university’s sprawling library; it was too cold for the garden and too late for anywhere else. You buried yourself in books and words when the world became unbearable but, tonight, fatigue and despair clouded your ability to focus. You found yourself crying in a study nook instead.

Somehow, in your attempt to protect the one you loved most, you found yourself driving a wedge between you instead. It sickened you.

“My, this isn’t what the library is for!”

You weren't sure how much time had passed before Heimerdinger’s cheerful voice chirped out beside your chair; a moment later, you heard him scuttle into the chaise beside you. You didn’t bother to look.

“Whatever is the matter, dear?”

You took a shaky breath as more tears escaped you. The Yordle clicked his tongue and reached into his coat pocket. After retrieving the handkerchief folded neatly inside, he reached out and passed it to you. You gave him a grateful look as you used it to dry your face.

You sniffled. He waited patiently.

“I… I fear I may not be able to work on Hextech anymore.”

“Oh, my—I understand your upset now. Why do you think that?”

“I just…” Your breath fluttered. “I think I’m causing an impasse. And I would rather Viktor and Jayce work on it alone instead of it being abandoned altogether.”

“You three are inseparable,” Heimerdinger insisted. “What in the world could you be doing that would call for such a drastic measure?”

You sobbed. “I… I can’t explain.”

“Surely it’s not your relationship with Viktor.”

“No, absolutely not,” you insisted firmly. “This… This would be a decision I’d make to save that. He and Hextech mean more to me than anything. Even my own participation.”

A quiet fell over you two—not uncomfortable, yet not devoid of thought either.

“...May I be honest with you, my dear?”

You nodded, finally looking over at him.

“I know you’re a mage.”

The blood drained from your body and the world shuddered upside down. You gaped at him in dread. The Yordle merely chuckled.

“Don’t be so worried—if I believed you were a threat, I would’ve turned you in long ago. But I have no reason to, nor any desire to.”

You allowed yourself to calm. A Council Member knowing was the worst possible scenario—but Heimerdinger had a soft spot for you in addition to thousands of years of experience. Fate graced you, of all people in all possible times, with magic. You were benevolent, incredibly sharp, and ambitious—and if there was anyone the Yordle believed should wield the arcane, it would be someone like you.

“...How did you find out?”

“Viktor and Jayce are not the only ones who have noticed the leaps you make in your studies.”

You nodded weakly. “...What’s going to happen to me?”

“Nothing at all, dear. I’ll admit, I was quite fearful when I put the pieces together. After all, magic is a very dangerous thing—even an inexperienced or feeble mage holds far more power than any non-user. Yet I cannot deny the work you have done for the world through Hextech. You have proven your worth, your passion, and your goodness. I don’t believe the public should know you’re a mage, for obvious reasons, but I do believe you have a duty to continue your research. Your abilities give you an invaluable advantage.”

You sniffled. “But Viktor… I fear he’s building up resentment because of that. I can’t… I can’t keep doing that to him, sir.”

“I have lived a very, very long life—trust me when I say a relationship such as yours is a true marvel. His resentment is understandable, but it is a drop of water in the ocean of adoration he has for you. Severing your ties to Hextech will only summon a storm. You must tell him the truth.”

“What if he hates me for it?”

“My dear, he leaves the lab when you merely ask him to. He’s going to marry you.”

You were exhausted, but you still ran back to the lab. The moon yawned from behind the windows over an empty chair and a desk in disarray. Viktor was upset with you, so you knew he wouldn’t be home—which left a single place he could possibly be.

Viktor sat on the ledge of the maintenance shaft. His eyes hung heavy but his mind whirred as he played the way you left the lab, defeated, over and over against his skull. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. You were the love of his life, his irreplaceable partner in Hextech, and his closest friend. He had frustrations, naturally, but he allowed them to escape their leash and lash out at you. Then, once they had finished with you, they turned and began to gnaw on him.

Your hand was warm on his shoulder. He knew it was you immediately. He turned to meet your gaze, expression somber, hand jumping to yours.

“Miláčku,” he breathed, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured as you settled beside him. You squeezed his hand, rested your head on his shoulder. A wave of relief washed over him. “I’m sorry too.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“No, I have. I’ve been keeping something important from you.”

You opened your free hand. A single rune nestled in your palm. Viktor gave you a confused look.

“A rune? I don’t understand—”

Without so much as the utterance of a word, the wave of a gesture, or any visible exertion of effort whatsoever, the stone began to glow a familiar blue as it lifted itself from your skin. It levitated, revolving slowly, as Viktor finally grasped what was happening.

“...You’re a mage,” he whispered. The truth shifted the air. You nodded as your hand began to shake. Your fear cleaved your connection with the arcane and the rune fell, lifeless, back into your hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His words were clipped. Panic made you defensive. Disagreements were common in science, but you and Viktor rarely had them outside the lab doors. The irregularity of this, compounded with the danger of magic and fatigue, made you both a little more upset than you should’ve been.

“If it wasn’t obvious, my kind isn’t exactly skipping through meadows hand-in-hand with non-users, Viktor.”

“The three of us are trying to change the world’s view on magic. You should’ve told Jayce and I much sooner—think of what we could’ve done if we knew this!"

Your head ripped off his shoulder to glare at him. “Telling you would’ve done nothing but put you in danger!”

“We could’ve made progress ten times faster!”

"This isn't about morals or philosophy, Viktor—this is life and death! That progress would be meaningless if it meant I had even a chance of losing you!"

Viktor always feared if he did not charge forward with perfect efficiency he would wither away, his life unimportant and impactless. But your words rung out in the night, struck Viktor and resonated through his body. Instantaneously, his world shifted. He saw the way you regarded him, how you held him as the pinnacle of your life. Even above Hextech. Above progress. You were scared. You cared about Hextech just as greatly as him; but what terrified you enough to conceal a crucial face of your own identity, to endure his acerbic comments, to consider abandoning your greatest passion, was not the discovery of your abilities or the destruction of your work.

It was the potential loss of him that came with it.

He finally understood. He saw the world through your eyes. He had been picking evolution over you, chasing importance and impact when he already had it cradled in his hands. He had become spiteful of the person he loved most dearly because you were making more progress. In that moment, he chose the path of his life.

He chose you. For what was progress to an empty man?

“...You would be worth dying for.”

The softness of Viktor’s voice made the anger in your shoulders and face immediately fall away; the actual statement made your heart tear apart. He would keep your secret even if it meant death upon discovery. He would forever share your burden.

You both immediately reached for each other. Viktor's hands took your face, pulling you to him with urgency as he kissed you fiercely. Your hands immediately ran up his chest, the sides of his neck, into the short hair at the nape, then fully into his locks. He snaked an arm around your middle to pull you flush against him; the mention of death only served to burn this moment in his memory. Should the worst happen, should you get caught and he lost you, he’d always remember the way your skin felt against his, how you kissed him like he mattered, how you felt like a well-loved puzzle piece against his own. There was no knowing where he ended and you began, and it terrified him how much he loved it, how he squeezed you closer to exacerbate it.

You only parted when your lungs burned. Panting, you shared breaths and atoms. Viktor bumped his forehead against yours and looked up at you with that gorgeous amber gaze. You were tearing up.

"I meant it," he murmured. Hands still on your cheeks, he thumbed the corners of your eyes, wanting to take the pain before it even started. He held you with more care than his runes, his inventions, his life's work. He held you in the way a priest cradled his scripture.

“Please don’t go doing that,” you murmured.

“Only if you don’t either.”

"I promise."

A quiet tension still scintillated in the air. “...I’m sorry for raising my voice at you. And for the back-handed comments. And accusing you of slowing down our progress.”

You couldn't help but laugh softly. “With a rap sheet like that I should quit anyways.”

“...You were going to quit?”

“Vik, I… The danger of being a mage—you were days from finding out. You were frustrated all the time and I was only dividing us further.”

“No, no more thinking like that.” He grabbed your arms, squeezed them. “You were not the reason for any of this. Hextech is our life’s work, and I can only hope that we continue on it until we die hunched over our papers; but I would give it all up to keep you at my side.”

“You don’t mean that, V.”

“What in the world makes you believe I don’t?” he asked incredulously, leaning in to catch your eyes again. His expression was earnest, adoring, nearly puppy-like from the sheer intensity of his concern.

“I—that’s just a very romantic statement.”

“You believe I’d die for you, but not that I’d give up Hextech for you? Surely you aren’t jealous of our creation.”

A beat. You both smiled. The tension broke with it, and the two of you devolved into laughter. The sound of it made Viktor’s heart just soar. The catharsis of an invention that finally worked, finishing a long book, understanding some complex idea—none of it compared to the way your voice rang out like bells when he made you laugh. Viktor nuzzled his nose beside yours. You reached up, thumbing his bottom lip.

“I'm not jealous. I just know neither of us could survive without Hextech in our lives.”

“Mm, I'm sure we’d find a way to pass the time.”

Viktor closed the gap between your lips again. You both smiled, kissing each other sleepily, unaware of just how prescient your words knelled.

dividers used: sparkles • star

[whiskeyghoul]

She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid X Goth!reader]

A/N: self indulgent little fic here. I have been in a writing slump for a few weeks and needed to do something just a little self indulgent. So we have this which has been on my mind for ever. I love Abby Sciuto from NCIS and thought how fun it would be to see our little nerd fall in love with the alternative lab rat of the FBI. This is not proof read or anything so it might not be the absolute best but I just wanted to put something out here again.

WC: 1737

Tags: fluff, crush, first meeting, love at first sight possibly, multiple parts, opposites attract, self indulgent fic, reader is described as female, reader is alternative

Warnings: Mention of human remains.

Read part 2 here, read part 3 here

The music coming from the lab was muffled. Even through the closed door Spencer could hear the barely legible lyrics as he got closer and closer. As he reached the door and knocked there seemed to be no answer. Certain his knocking wouldn’t be heard over the noise that he now recognized as Siouxsie and the banshees. He opened the door. As soon as the barrier between him and the music was lifted it sounded so clear. It was turned up to 11 and he wondered how anyone could even focus with music that loud.

That was until he saw you, swaying along to the music, the white coat exaggerated the movements. Swishing from side to side as you reach for a pasteur pipette while bobbing your head along to the music. You seemed absorbed in the music, focussed on your work leaning over the bench and carefully dripping a clear substance on a piece of paper while still perfectly on beat with the music. Spencer cleared his throat loudly, hoping to make himself known before he interrupted you in whatever you seemed to be doing. Though it didn’t quite reach the decibel level to alert you. “L/N” he called out your last name but once again no response. So he took a few steps closer. Once Spencer was close enough he reached out and softly tapped your shoulder. You jumped in response, whirling around in shock with the pipette in your hands raised like a weapon. Like somehow you would be able to defend yourself with the lab instrument. A yelp falling from your lips. 

“Oh my god! Can’t you knock!” You accused, eyes wide as you placed your free hand on the top of your chest, taking a deep breath. “I did. I also tried to clear my throat to not scare you.” Spencer retorted, his voice raised a little louder so you could hear him over the music. You twirled around, placing the pipette in the holder. “I’m Doctor Reid, from the BAU.” He continued loudly. You turned, holding your left hand up to shush him. Your right fishing the remote from your coat pocket. It gave Spencer some time to look you over. 

Your lab coat was about the only light thing you wore. The outfit underneath was black on black on black. A band tee with illegible writing that peeked over a corset, layered with a ripped fishnet top underneath. The abundance of necklaces of all different lengths, cascading down your neck like silver waterfalls. Ripped jeans he wasn’t quite sure were safe for the lab environment, but the skin of your thigh caught his attention. Something inside of him stirring. He fidgeted with his hands in front of his body.

“So… you were saying?” You spoke. Spencer’s eyes snapped back to your face. You looked up at him with big eyes, a small smile accompanying them. The music was turned down now giving him room to think. Though your eyes still made it difficult to really focus. “Oh, I am Doctor Reid, from the BAU.”  He answered after swallowing for a moment. “Ah! You are here for the clothing analysis, right? Penelope mentioned one of the team would come pick it up. Normally it's her or Derek, though I think Derek has complained about hearing loss.” You whirled around while rambling on, pony tail waving behind as you turned, bounding over to a table with scattered papers. Spencer followed close behind, not focussing on the words rather just the tone of your voice, a slight intrigue towards you. He didn’t even know your first name, yet somehow your mannerisms, your unconventional style, it made him want to know more. “Right.” He said, realizing he hadn’t technically answered your questions. 

Spencer looked over your shoulder as you picked up a stack of papers neatly stapled together. He thought he might be a bit too close as he could smell the subtle perfume wafting off of you. Though he also strangely enjoyed it. It was sweet but not overly so. A hint of cherry that was fitting in his eyes. The color of the fruit matching that of your lipstick. As you looked over the paper and began to talk again, “So, the substance that was on the clothes seems to be turpentine. Commonly used in oil painting. The vapors can already cause irritation to the eyes, skin, and airways if exposed to them for longer periods of time.” you rambled off the words as you read them. “There were some other things found on the clothes that coincide with the oil painting. Different pigments and paint residue.” You turned, eyes still on the paper nearly bumping into Spencer as he had been standing so close. When you looked up at him surprised he could feel a tightening in his chest. “Oops, sorry.” You apologized, a small smile on your lips.

You apologized to him while he was the one in your way. “Oh it was my fault. Shouldn’t have stood so close. Sorry.” He muttered. The words falling from his lips unceremoniously. He felt like half of his intelligence had up and left his brain as he talked to you. Not really knowing what to say at that moment. His hands fidgeted at his sides again. His left hand playing with the hem of his cardigan sleeve. He cursed himself internally for being reduced to a stumbling mess in front of you. You kept standing there though. Clearly you had turned around to go somewhere and Spencer had been in your way. Yet he was nailed in place and so, it seemed to him, were you. “Did you know they used to make oil paints with human remains?” You spoke excitedly. Like you had been waiting to tell someone, anyone, that little fact. He knew that. He knew that for a long time yet seeing you, tell him a fact with such delight, made him want to lie. “Now I do.” He answered, his smile matching yours.

“It was called mummy brown. They ground up mummies, both human and animal, and put it in the paint.” You continued. Your voice trailing off slightly after the word animal. You held up the stack of papers to him. “Everything you need is in there. If you need me to clarify something just give me a call. Or stop by whenever you want.” Spencer nods after your sentence. Taking the papers from you his hand touched yours ever so slightly. His brain short circuited for a moment before the neurons started firing accordingly again. “I eh- I don’t have your number.” he stumbled over the words.

As if you realized that in that moment you took a step aside and walked past him. Walking over to a desk and rummaging through a drawer. Spencer walked a bit closer to your desk. No longer being nailed in place by some unspeakable force. You pulled out a thin sharpie, and Spencer raised a brow ever so slightly at that. You walked back over, holding out your hand to grasp his. Spencer placed his hand in yours. His mouth felt incredibly dry for a moment. His tongue was uncomfortable in his mouth. His heartbeat raced faster. Nothing like he had ever really felt before. You could have done it on the papers, or maybe even a sticky note. Yet you decided that his hand would be the perfect place to write down your number. He thought about it for a moment, your hand was soft and warm. You twisted his hand, writing down your phone number along with your name. Once you finished you let go off his hand. Spencer looked at the black numbers, committing them to memory, and your name. God your name would be bouncing around his head for days. “Y/N.” He said, testing the name. It felt right.

“That’s me, you better put that in your phone. These markers are not nearly as permanent on skin. It’s the oils.” You went on, capping the marker as you spoke. “I will. Thank you.” Spencer said and smiled. He stayed standing in place for another moment. Trying to commit you to memory just in case his eidetic memory failed him. He realized he was staring a little and cleared his throat. “I eh… I have to go.” pointing his thumb to the door. You giggled a little, a sound that made Spencer’s cheek heat up a little. “Right, pretty boy, head on out. I need to get back to work too.” You smiled casually. Spencer’s face was only heating up more. He swallowed. The nickname the others used for him sounded so much better when it came from you. He turned around to hide his ever heating face from your sight, walking over to the door quickly. Once in the opening he quickly looked back, giving an awkward wave that you returned with a smile. 

When Spencer entered the bullpen his face had calmed down a little. Not feeling nearly as hot as before. He was able to think clearly again, but when he looked at your number and name on his hand he felt giddy inside. Reaching his desk he sat down, placing the analysis file on his desk. “That took you long enough, pretty boy.” Derek called out from his desk, humor in his voice. The nickname had no effect when he said it. “Sorry, the lab tech… she was explaining some things to me.” Spencer quickly lied. “Alright, can I get the file?” Derek had his hand already out. Spencer gave him the file and Derek’s brows raised at the number scribbled on his hand. “You got her number?” He smirked. Spencer pulled his hand back covering the numbers and your name with his other hand. “If something needed more clearing up.” He retorted. Derek merely chuckled at his awkwardness, “She’s friends with Garcia, you wouldn’t have needed her phone number.” He added with a smirk. Spencer felt his face heat up a little again, embarrassed. He knew that. He knew that he had known that. But in that moment he couldn’t think.

He looked back at his hand. Your name on his skin. A little flutter in his chest kicked up when he did. Derek cleared his throat, making Spencer look up again. Derek pointed at him with his pen, before opening his mouth. “You better call her soon.”

[hoe-days]

OKAY HERE WE GO

Y’all this is 3+ years of not writing fanfiction and pent up thoughts I am so sorry

(Also mind any spelling or grammar mistakes I am on 30 minutes of sleep and it’s 2AM)

(Senku x Smart! F! Reader SMUT)

——————

‘Frustrated’

‘Unfocused’

‘Pent up’

‘Math.’

‘Math…?’

‘That’s right. I need to focus.’ But how could she focus on this equation like this. She’s been pent up for ages. There’s not really any time for intimacy when you’re building the new world.

(Y/N) sighs as she puts her mind back on the equation before her. The team is on the brink of a break through, she can’t falter now.

Wrong.

“Huh?”

“That’s wrong.” She turns her body to look over at her lover. Senku gazes at their makeshift chalk board with his head tilted to the side.

“Not like you to make that kind of mistake. Pulled an all nighter?”

“No- Well, yes. I did, but that’s not what’s wrong. I’m fine.”

Senku watches as she corrects her mistake, getting any little detail wrong can crumble everything. They both know that. But they’ve been working nonstop since they broke free of the stone, their efficiency doubled once they found each other in the stone world.

She puts her chalk down, rubbing her aching eyes. “I’m gonna call it a night. Can’t utilize my brain if it’s half dead.” Senku nods, understanding the feeling.

“T’s cool. I’ll take over,” He assures. She gives him a small kiss to the cheek before leaving the lab, heading to her sleeping quarters.

———

“Left over materials are a life saver. Had just enough Methyl Chloride to create a mold…”

(Y/N) smiles at her little “side project”. She carefully places the small motor into the silicone tube she made.

“First vibrator of the stone age. Hilarious.”

She chuckles to herself as she delicately adjusts the wiring.

“Done!”, She allows the hot glue she whipped up to cool before testing out her creation, she twists the dial and it hums to life.

“Science my love thou hast never failed me.”

She stands to go over to her cot when she hears shuffling outside the door. There’s a shadow at the door. Shit.

She scrambles to turn off the machine and lock it back away in the small chest she made for it.

The door opens just as she locks the latch.

“You’re still awake?”, Senku stands in the doorway, holding some papers.

“Yeah, I was just working on a side project.”

Senku raises an eyebrow, “Oh? Like what.”

She averts her gaze. “Confidential.”

“Ya. Okay.” He chuckles as he rolls his eyes.

She slides the chest under her cot and walks over to him. “Need something?”

“Just wanted you to double check me.

“You’re a smart, grown ass man.”

“And?”

She shoots him a teasing smile as they both sit on her bed, checking over his calculations together. It may seem odd, but it’s their love language.

———

Sadly, (Y/N) fell asleep midway through their calculation session, she never even got to try her toy, how tragic. The next day comes and she’s more irritable than before.

Senku had a sneaking suspicion something was going on. He wants to get to the bottom of it immediately, whatever is happening is hindering their progress.

While walking to check on (Y/N) during her break from working he catches her right as she’s storming out of her room in a huff, heading towards a loud crash a little ways away. It’s always something.

Before he can follow he hears something curious from their room. Buzzing. Senku’s curiosity gets the best of him as he peaks in, immediately spotting the toy on the cot

“Oh. So that’s what this is all about.”

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Guess I haven’t been the most attentive boyfriend, huh. Let’s nip this in the bud then.”

He smirks as he turns off the toy, tucking it away in his pocket before leaving the room.

——

(This next part is absolutely freaked out. You were warned)

Panic.

“No, no, no, this is NOT happening.”

She can’t find it. This is awful. Did it roll under something? She frantically opens the drawers at her makeshift desk.

Senku watches from the door, an evil smirk painting his face as (Y/N) searches for her toy, her face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. He chuckles, enjoying the the scene before him. "Looking for this?" he asks teasingly, holding up the vibrator and letting it buzz loudly in his hand.

(Y/N) freezes, her face burning with humiliation as she slowly turns to face Senku. "Give that back to me," she demands, trying to snatch it from his grasp. But Senku quickly moves it out of her reach, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Not so fast," he chuckles, backing away and examining the object with intrigue. “Interesting side project.”

(Y/N) crosses her arms, glaring at him as she tries to maintain some semblance of dignity despite her mortification. "It's not what you think," she snaps. "…Okay maybe it is. I just... I needed a release, okay? And there aren't exactly sex shops in the stone age."

Senku's grin widens, and he takes a step closer to her, one hand still holding the vibrator behind his back while the other reaches out to trail his fingers along her arm. "I’m a bit offended you didn’t come to me directly, but I can’t say I don’t find that innovative mind of yours exhilarating," he murmurs. "

“You are really annoying, you know that-”

Senku silences her with a searing kiss, his lips claiming hers with a passion that steals her breath away as he walks her back against the desk. She melts into him, their bodies molding into each other as the vibrator begins to buzz softly against her inner thigh. (Y/N) gasps into his mouth, her hips jerking slightly at the unexpected sensation.

Emboldened, Senku slides the toy higher, rubbing it along the damp fabric covering her most intimate area. He swallows her whimpers and moans, his tongue delving deep to taste her as he grinds his semi hard cock against her.

Without breaking the kiss, Senku pushes her papers and tools aside to a safe distance as (Y/N) stands on her toes to get up onto the desk. Senku pushes her thighs apart to step between them. His hand slides underneath her dress, caressing her thighs.

"Let's see what this thing can really do," Senku hums, hooking his fingers in the waistband of her underwear and tugging them down. (Y/N) lifts her hips, allowing him to strip them off completely and toss them aside. She shudders at the cool air, Senku doesn’t give her any time to relish the feeling though. He presses the vibrator directly onto her clit.

(Y/N) cries out, her head falling back and her fingers searching for anything to grab behind her on the desk. "Ah! Senku, fuck! It's too much!"

“Too much? You’re the one that gave it so much power. I’d figured you could handle it.”

He leans down, kissing the petrification marks on her skin as he applies a bit more pressure.

“Stop being a dick..” Her fingers curl around the edge of the desk, gripping it tightly as she fights the urge to push him away.

“There’s a joke in there somewhere, but I’m far too invested in this experiment to waste even a millimeter of a breath on it.” He shoots her his signature shit eating grin before sliding his free hand between her legs, pushing two fingers into her.

She moans out, rocking her hips along with the motion of his fingers. She’s so close. The build up is intense. Just as she reaches her peak-

Nothing.

“Senku what the fuck?” Senku doesn’t say a word as he adjusts his clothes, swiftly pulling his aching cock out. “I’ve got all the data I need on that experiment. I’ve got to give you a participation reward.”

With one hard thrust, he sheaths himself inside her, burying his length deep into her wet heat. (Y/N) throws her head back with a cry of ecstasy, her walls clenching and fluttering around him as he fills and stretches her. The vibrator falls forgotten from Senku's hand, buzzing around somewhere on the floor.

Senku starts to move, pulling out until just the tip remains before slamming back in, setting a hard and fast pace. The desk creaks and shakes beneath them with the force of his thrusts, the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. He leans down to capture (Y/N)'s lips in a passionate kiss, her moans and his groans and (sorta pathetic) whimpers mixing together like a melody.

(Y/N) meets his thrusts eagerly, wrapping her legs around his waist and using the leverage to pull him deeper with each pump of his Senku gasps, breaking their kiss and burying his face into her neck.

He can feel his stamina waning, his breath coming in ragged pants against (Y/N)'s neck. He's not built for such intense physical exertion, and his muscles burn with the effort of holding himself up and thrusting into (Y/N) so vigorously.

With a grunt, Senku suddenly pulls out and sits back on the chair that sat in front of the desk, his chest heaving.

(Y/N), knowing all too well about his stamina(or lack there of), wastes no time in straddling Senku's lap. She positions herself above him, reaching down to grip his shaft and line it up with her entrance. With a sensual roll of her hips, she sinks down onto him, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion.

They both groan at the sensation, She starts to move, rolling and grinding her hips in slow circles as she gets used to the new position. Senku lets out a breathy chuckle.

“You’ve made me throw all logic out the window.”

(Y/N) is confused for a moment, but recalls a conversation from a while back. Senku expressed his hesitance for unprotected sex, that’s the last thing they needed in the stone world. But here he is, his lust, his needs overpowered his mind for once.

(Y/N) rocks her hips faster, chasing her own release. She leans in closely to his ear, mustering up all she can to speak.

“I got you, baby. Don’t worry about it.”

Senku nearly came right then, she’s going to be the death of him.

(Y/N) shifts her position, allowing him to hit that special spot inside her with every thrust. Her fingers claw at his chest, leaving red marks in their wake as her body is consumed by pleasure. She can feel that familiar knot forming, tightening and tightening until it finally snaps. The motion of her hips falters, jerking sporadically as she rides out her orgasm.

Senku holds on tightly his head thrown back, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. The feel of her clenching around him nearly being too much to handle.

Once she’s come down from her high, (Y/N) pushes her self up weakly. She stands, wobbly legged and all before lowering herself to her knees, massaging his balls as she takes him into her mouth.

Senku can’t even muster up a witty remark, no tease or quip leaves his lips, all he can do is grip onto the back of her head, weakly thrusting up into her mouth as he chases his own release.

All it takes is one touch. One motion of her free hand against an area of his side she knows is sensitive. That’s all it takes for him to spill into her mouth.

She stares up at him with hazy, half lidded eyes as she swallows all he has to offer. Senku’s body spasms and twitches as he reaches his high, instinctively pushing her head away, the feeling being too much for him.

(Y/N) sits back on her knees and pants, attempting to catch her breath.

“I feel better now.”

——————

[starstruckgrrl]

CAn u do one for dr stone

Senku tbh js do anything

a/n: i came out of hiding to make this 😛 also i did get another request at the exact same time for a senku x reader so i’m hoping this was also you bc i don’t wanna do 2 in a row 😭

‧₊˚ ෆ synopsis: you came to visit your favorite future nobel prize winning scientist in the school chemistry lab, but you were bothered on your way there.

~ warnings: smut, afab!reader, no pronouns used on reader, reader has a crush on senku, senku knows, kissing, oral (f receiving), seniors in high school, sweet!senku, confession

as you walked towards the grand science lab at the end of the hall (aka senku’s lair), you fished out a pocket mirror from your backpack to check on how you looked at the moment.

“checking your appearance before you see the mad scientist?” taiju asks you, and you nod in response.

“i’m gonna try to tell him today, so i need to look perfect.”

“good luck!” taiju shouts, “i’m gonna tell yuzuriha tomorrow!”

“i believe in you!” you reply as he runs off to find her.

you swing open the door to the science lab where you find senku writing notes as a solution bubbles before him.

“hello, y/n.” senku greets.

you greet him back and sit next to him, and he finishes his writing and closes the notebook. he turns to face you, looking at you seriously.

“y/n, we should talk.” he says.

oh no… isn’t that YOUR line? you’re the one who came to confess! is he mad you intruded on him? he looks so serious too… this can’t end well.

you immediately begin to worry, and he picks up on that.

“don’t overthink, i’m not upset with you!” he says to stop your train of thought.

“not even one millimeter?” you reply teasingly, looking at him through your lashes with a sly smile.

he grins back at you and shakes his head.

“y/n, you know i’m not one for formalities and tradition. i believe in innovation and science. having a partner always seemed like one of those stupid traditions to me…”

tears begin to well up in your eyes. he knew about your crush, and was trying to let you down easy, you thought.

“but, even so, i am human, i can’t deny how i feel.”

senku grabs your hands and holds them in his, a complete change for the usually non-physically intimate man he is.

“y/n, i… like you. i can tell you like me too, and you just understand me in a way other people don’t.”

senku cringes before he finally says, “will you be my partner?”

“of course i will, senku!” you reply, throwing yourself onto him to wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close for a hug.

he hugs you back, relishing in the moment for a while. he pulls back to look at you, face to face, before he says, “we’ve been together for 52 seconds.”

you smile wide and laugh, sweet and genuine.

“are you going to be keeping count from now on?” you asked.

“obviously. i will have to know when to buy you anniversary presents.”

you reach up to cup his face and leaned in to kiss him. it starts slow, experimental from the both of you. senku begins to get more passionate, though, to have confessed in the first place, he must be pretty passionate about you. he only involves himself in things he truly believes in or cares about.

senku breaks the kiss to breathe, your foreheads still connected as you inhale and exhale quickly. he let his hands rest on your sides, above your ass, and pulls him towards you, gesturing for you to sit on his lap.

the two of you kiss again, and you begin to feel the familiar heat pool in your lower half as you grind on his thigh, ever so slightly. however, senku being as attentive as he is, of course notices.

putting his hand on your inner thigh and rubbing your core through your pants, he says, “let me help.”

~

you end up laying on your back on an empty table in the science lab, with senku between your bare legs, your pants and underwear laid next to you.

senku is, for once, vulnerable looking as he sits on his knees. you don’t have time to tease him at the sight, though, because his fingers are working so well at your clit, rolling the sensitive bud and drawing circles on it. his mouth is too occupied to tease you for the way your face is so flushed, as his tongue is drawing figure 8s in your cunt.

the two of you are lucky everyone is gone from the school, as the moans you’re letting out would immediately notify anyone nearby.

~

[eddiesxangel]

Need You Now | Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Requested by @mmunson86 : Eddie and Reader were best friends who secretly liked each other, but then they went their separate ways after high school and kind of lost contact. one day, Eddie runs into Steve, who still talks to Reader, and after five years he realizes that he should’ve taken his shot and I don’t know maybe he has the urge to call her and instead he just shows up at her doorstep in the pouring rain he’s drenched in water, and he tells her how she feels and hopes that she does and well she does feel the same (Eddie finally asks her to be his girl) & well it gets smutttty 🥹💗 included the song Need you Now by Lady A

Cw: angst, mutual pining, friends to strangers to lovers, fluff, no use of y/n reader is referred to with nicknames (Peach, sweetheart, baby) smut, p in v, dirty talk, one mention of birth control, no use of condoms, creampies? Alchohol.

wc: 7.6k

comments and reblogs are always appreciated and encouraged <3

August 1984.

"So this is it, huh?" Eddie was completely taken aback by the suddenness of it all. He had known deep down that this day would eventually arrive, but it had always felt like a distant threat. Now that it was here, he struggled to come to terms with the fact that you were leaving him. You had always been ambitious, and he was incredibly proud of everything you had accomplished. But the thought of being left behind while you went on to bigger and better things was a tough pill to swallow. Despite his own feelings of loss and sadness, however, Eddie knew that he couldn't stand in the way of your dreams - he would never be the kind of person to hold someone back from reaching their full potential.

"Y-yeah." you sigh with shaky breath.

How could you leave him? The guilt gnawed at you because, even after everything, you never got to tell him how you felt. Now you are standing in the airport, feeling lost. It's too little, too late for confessionals.

Since you can remember, going to school in England has been your dream. You made it a mission and are now attending the University of Cambridge. You got in on a scholarship and scrapped up every penny working at Family Video for your four years of high school.

"You better write to me and all that shit" he pointed.

This made you giggle. "Of course, I'll even call once in a while. Hopefully, the long-distance charges won't be too lethal." You play with the chain hanging from your neck. You never took it off.

"Oh! I almost forgot... here!." Eddie rummaged around his pockets and pulled out a small wrapped gift. "Uh, open it when you get there, okay?"

"Teddy, you didn-"

"I wanted to. Please? Just take it." Eddie’s heart fluttered at your name of endearment.

You reach for the gift, fingers brushing, and you swear you feel sparks fly. You instantly jump into him, arms wrapping around his neck, taking in his feel, scent, and touch. Fuck this hurts more than you thought it would. But you kept telling yourself it wouldn't be forever, only four years; you could survive that. And you would be home in the summers. It wouldn't be so bad.

Tears threaten to fall as they rim your lashes. "I'll miss you," you sniffle, and your voice cracks.

It breaks Eddie's heart to see you like this. You were his girl, well, not technically, but you had his heart. You had it from the first moment he saw you in ninth-grade science when you were assigned to be his lab partner. From then on, you were as thick as thieves; if only you felt the same way...

"All passengers for flight 739, please make your way to gate 67; you are now boarding." Your heart sinks at the announcement; that was you. No more stalling.

You turn to your parents, giving them another tight hug, then quickly turn to Eddie again. You hug him once more, as tight as you can this time.

"You're squishing me, Peach. Can't. Breath." He jokes, and you look up at him with glossy eyes.

You reach up to your tiptoes, kiss his stubbly cheek and mutter the words he has been waiting to hear for the past four years. "I love you, Eddie."

Eddie was stunned, did he hear you correctly? You don't give him time to answer because you quickly turn without another word, not giving him a chance to speak, and you run. You run to the gate and don't look back.

For most of the flight, your mind was racing. You couldn't help but feel like a coward. Your mind was racing with questions and doubts. What if Eddie misunderstood your words as just platonic love? Or would he understand that you were actually in love with him?

You sat on the plane, staring at the gift box Eddie handed you. It was a small black square box with a red bow. Nothing fancy.

Once you were over international waters, you decided you couldn't wait anymore and opened it up.

As you slowly lift the lid, the tears start to well up in your eyes again. Your heart is pounding as you peer inside the small box and handwritten note and a silver mood ring were nestled inside. You reach in and carefully pick up the note and begin to read.

Dear, Peach

I am going to miss you so much, so here is a small token to remember me by…

Your Teddy.

You sniffle as you pick up the ring and hold it up to the overhead light to get a better look.

You turn it over in your fingers, examining every detail, trying to confirm whether or not this was Eddie's ring. It looks exactly like the one he wore daily, but you can't be sure. You had never seen him without it before? You try to think about if he had it on at the airport.

As you examine the ring, memories of Eddie flood your mind. You remember how he constantly fiddled with it, absentmindedly twisting it around his finger. You remember how he told you it was his mother's ring and how much it meant to him. But now, as you hold it in your hand, you can't believe he did this.

You try to slide it onto your fingers, but it's too loose to stay in place. You don't want to give up on the ring, though. It's too precious to lose. Suddenly, a thought strikes you, and you take off your necklace. You carefully latch the ring onto the chain, ensuring its security. You can keep it close to your heart as you wear it around your neck...

Now, 1991

"Peach?!” You jump and turn; you were startled when browsing the chips section at the Dollar Store. “Holy shit, it is you!"

"Steve?" You smile brightly and embrace him in a hug when you realize who is speaking to you. Not even twenty-four hours back home, and you’re already bumping into old friends. You had forgotten how small Hawkins really was.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" he asked with a bright smile across his face.

"Brian-you remember my brother Brian? He's getting married, had to come back for the wedding." You smile.

"When did you get back?! Have you seen anyone? Oh god, everyone is going to be thrilled." He hugged you again for good measure to make sure it was really you.

"I got back late last night; I'm still jetlagged, so I haven't seen or reached out to anyone yet... I don't think I have anyone's numbers anymore; it's been so long..." You felt so guilty. Your life in Hawkins was worlds away. You had been so busy once you graduated. You hadn't been home in about four years; visiting you was easier for your folks.

"I'll alert the media; I'll be the town crier! Let everyone know Peach is back!"

"Thanks, Stevie," you giggled.

"How long are you in town for?"

"Ummm, that's the thing; I think I am back for good?" Sure, you loved being overseas, but seven years was so long you missed your life back home, your family, your friends, and your visa was running out.

"This is amazing! Oh, we have to all get together to celebrate!"

"How um- how is everyone?"

"Good! Robin and I are roommates, Nancy and Jonathan are still going strong, Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will, El and Max are off at their different colleges..."

"What, uh-what about Eddie?" You hadn't mutter his name in years. Things fell off like they did with everyone else. You used to write almost every day, but then school, friends, and boyfriends happened, and eventually, the letters stopped altogether.

The two of you never spoke of the "I love you" statement you made at the airport. You tiptoed around it like it didn't happen. Sometimes, you wished you had stayed to hear what he would have said, and other times, you were glad you ran. You took the hint that he didn't feel the same way when he never said anything back in his letters or the few times you called him.

"Oh, Ed's is great! Yeah, he has his own shop downtown; you know how good he was with fixing cars and all that. He got promoted a few months back when Richards decided to retire..." You smile at the thought of Eddie finally owning up to his potential.

"Oh, well, um, that's amazing! I really missed you guys." You sighed, subconsciously playing with the ring attached to the chain around your neck. You hadn't taken it off in the seven years you had been away.

"Well, I better get going, but I'll call you, ok?"

"Yeah, I'm with my folks for now until I find an apartment, so same number,” you smiled.

When you leave Steve, your mind can't help but race with thoughts of seeing Eddie again. Seven years is a really long time; would he still have his long hair? Would he have a girlfriend? Oh god, what if he has a girlfriend? Of course, he would have a girlfriend. He's Eddie. He is the most flirtatious guy out there; there is no way he would be sitting around waiting for you. Not that he would be waiting for you... he never said those three words back.

It's been less than twenty-four hours since you've been back in Hawkins, and yet your thoughts are consumed by memories of him. The sound of his voice echoes in your mind as if you had heard him yesterday... The way he laughed, the way he walked, and the way he used to look at you. His presence has left an everlasting mark on your psyche, and you can't help but wonder what he's doing right now, whether he's thinking about you too, or if you'll ever see him again.

Your stuff was all over the new apartment. You managed to score a place not too far from everyone, and it only took about a week and a half to find, sign and finalize a place to live.

The living room was filled with countless cardboard boxes, each one crammed with different items from your childhood home and England.

As you rummaged through them, your attention was suddenly grasped by a photo album that had been buried deep inside one of the boxes. It took you by surprise - I had completely forgotten about it. As you held it in your hands, you couldn't help but feel a rush of nostalgia and curiosity, wondering what picture-perfect memories were inside.

You grabbed your drink from the side table and crawled on the messy couch covered in old newspapers and bubble wrap. Pictures of you with the gang, in the Wheelers basement, at lovers lake, in the trailer…

Memories of late nights, early morning school pick ups, dnd creation sessions, forcible study sessions that ended up just you two talking for hours on end, Eddie making you fall for him and him you with neither of you were the wiser.

The phone ringing breaks you out of the trance. You scramble up off the couch the photo album falls off your lap and onto the floor as you scurry over to the phone mounted on the wall.

“Hello?” Nice to know the phone company installed it correctly.

“Hey! It’s Steve, how are you?”

“Good, just settling in; my place is a mess,” you giggle.

“Good, good. We are all getting together on Friday; maybe you can take a break from unpacking? We thought it would be nice to meet at my folk's place, old time's sake.” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You hesitated. “Is, um, everyone going to be there?”

"Yep! Folks are out of town; we can use the pool to put advantage. Everyone is so excited you're back" emphasis on everyone.

“That’s great, Steve; I’m happy to be home, glad no one hates me," you chuckle uncomfortably. "I was kinda worried since I fell off the face of the earth...”

“Nah, we could never be mad at you.”

“Okay then! I’ll see you guys Friday,” you smile. Oblivious to the fact that none of your friends knew you were in town…

“So Stevie, what’s got you bouncing off the walls?” Robin asked.

It was Friday, and Steve had everyone already over for an hour before your arrival.

They had no idea you were back because Steve wanted to tell everyone simultaneously. So he invited Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie so he could share the big news.

“Yea, you’re killing us, man,” Jonathan smirked.

“Okay, okay, okay! Everyone sit down.” Steve instructed. “So I was out running some errands, and you’re never going to guess who I ran into!”

“Vicki?” Robin asked.

“Nooo.”

“Chrissy?”

“Nope.”

“Max?”

“Nope, guess again.”

“Lucas?”

Amidst the incessant guessing, Eddie's mind drifted away to a memory of you. He pictured you walking through the front door with that enchanting smile you always had on your face. The sound of your voice was etched in his mind as if he had heard it only yesterday. His heart yearned for you, how you used to take over his whole world and light up his day with your infectious energy and captivating aura.

Just as Eddie is about to get lost in his thoughts of you, the doorbell snaps him back into reality.

“You uh expecting anymore else man?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, you uh mind grabbing the door for me?” Steve was up to something, and Eddie could sense it. Maybe Dustin was home early?

“Why? Are you busy or something?”

“Yea, 'bout to get the pool ready..” he winks.

With his suspicions, Eddie tentatively stands and reaches the door. Behind him, in the distance, he hears Nancy, “Oh my god, shut up!” He must have shared the mystery person while he was out of war shot… jackass.

With his heart racing, he took the last few steps towards the door. His curiosity was piqued, and he felt a sense of anticipation building up inside him, wondering who could possibly be waiting on the other side. As he jogged, he could hear his own footsteps echoing in the hallway. Finally, he reached for the doorknob, ready to discover the mystery person on the other side.

You rang the doorbell once again… what had been taking so long?

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, hold your horses-” Eddie swung open the door without any hesitation as he was in the middle of his sentence. However, his words trailed off when he saw you standing on the other side.

“Hey, Teddy” you smiled as your heart pounded. It was pumping so hard he could probably see it beating through your chest.

“Oh my god.” Eddie looked like he had seen a ghost. The blood drained from his face. His eyes are wide with shock. Did Steve not tell him? “Oh my god!” You were suddenly knocked off your feet as Eddie's weight collided with yours.

“Hi,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around him.

"Peach?" It took him a second to process. “Holy shit, you’re here!” He spun you around before putting you down.

“Did Steve not tell you?” As you slowly stepped back, your eyes fixed on his face.

His once baby-smooth skin now bore a few fine lines, a testament to the life he had lived. Life was never kind to Eddie, but he held on to hope. His facial hair added a more mature rugged charm to the baby face you once knew. You couldn't help but admire the beauty that was Eddie Munson.

You also couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off your face and Eddie was so thankful because he had never been witness to something so beautiful.

“No! Oh my god! No, he didn’t tell us anything.” He couldn’t let you go; he needed to feel you to convince himself he wasn’t seeing things. You smelled just as he remembered, but also sweeter.

“She’s back?!” You hear Robin's voice coming from far inside the house. That made you giggle, and Eddie heard angels singing.

The loud sound of footsteps fills your ears, and you see Robin running towards the door. She bulldozes her way past Eddie and engulfs you in a suffocating hug.

“How long are you here?!” She squealed.

“For good!” You smile as you see Nancy and Jonathan run out after Robin.

“What?! You’re back forever?!” Nancy came running out the door

“Yes, forever!” You smile, glancing over at Eddie.

Eddie needed to process everything and stepped back so everyone else could say their long-awaited hellos.

He missed you so badly; of course, he tried to move on, but nothing was the same. Feeling overwhelmed by the avalanche of information he had just received, Eddie needed a moment to gather his thoughts. With a smile, he excused himself from the room and went through the house to the backyard.

The warm afternoon breeze hit his face as he leaned against the deck railing. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air. He reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, and with a flick of his lighter, he lit one up. As he took a long first drag, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander, hoping to find clarity amid the chaos because you were back.

He hadn’t been out there for two minutes, barely making a dent in the cigarette, when he heard the sliding glass door open and close behind him.

“Hey, you okay, man?” It was Steve.

“Yeah, yeah, just in shock, I guess...” He took a long drag of the cigarette and blew the puffs of smoke in the other direction, away from Steve's face.

“She looks good, huh?.” Steve smirked as he also leaned back against the railing next to Eddie.

"Yeah, uh yea really good" He tried releasing his tense shoulders, but it was of no use.

"I didn't see a ring on her finger… but I did see one around her neck… looked familiar too.”

"What?” Eddie’s head snapped up.

“See for yourself.”

You were now in the kitchen, facing him through the window. Clear as day your exposed chest dawned his ring.

What did this mean?

"Looks like now's your chance." Steve clapped his back.

"It's been so long… things are- I don't know, things just won't be the same. Too much time has passed."

"That's why I say seize the day!"

"Don't Carpe Diem me," Eddie scoffed.

"Well, you better because there is no way I’m going to let someone else swoop in and snatch her up because you’re too dumb to say you love her back." In a swift motion, Steve reached out and plucked the cigarette from Eddie's lips, brought it up to his own mouth, took a long drag, and savoured the taste of the smoke. As he exhaled, he brought the cigarette back down and carefully stubbed it in the ashtray, snuffing out every last bit of ember. The two friends sat silently for a moment, lost in their thoughts.

"Don’t fuck this up again,” he smirked before slipping back inside with the others.

Your gaze automatically finds Eddie as you make your way out the door and into the yard, it was a pool party after all. You even bought a new swimsuit for the occasion because you wanted to make an impression on Eddie. He hadn't seen you since you were no more than a few weeks older than eighteen, when you were still awkward and pimply. Now at twenty-five, you’ve come into your body, and you looked fucking good.

You knew that your body had changed considerably since you were a teenager, and you wanted to look your best.

So when you went shopping you settled on a navy blue option with little white anchors, cute without trying too hard, or so you hoped. It accentuated all of your best assets.

Confidently, you let the shawl slip down your shoulders. Eddie felt like you were moving slowly as he watched you bend over to remove your jean shorts.

If Eddie didn't know any better, he'd think you were doing it intentionally. His hands were getting sweaty, and he needed to tighten his grip on the beer bottle so it wouldn't slip. You made him nervous; you were beautiful, elegant, and not to mention sexy, even more so than he remembered.

As you reach out to grab the drink from Robin's hand, you can sense Eddie's intense gaze fixed on you. Robin, who seems oblivious to the brewing tension, turns around and walks towards the pool chairs where Eddie, Steve, Jonathan and Nancy are lounging. You watch as Robin joins the trio, leaving you standing alone, wondering what Eddie's piercing stare could possibly mean. With a deep breath, you take a swig and join your group of friends.

Like a flip of a switch, Eddie's face softens when he sees you coming towards them. He takes in your body the closer you get. As soon as he caught a glimpse of you, his heart began to race uncontrollably. He couldn't believe how stunning you looked, and his eyes were immediately drawn to his ring that adorned your necklace.

You watched as Eddie gazed at you with admiration. It was like he was noticing every detail about you. Memorizing you - the way your hair cascaded over your shoulders, the sparkle in your eyes, the curve of your lips as you smiled. Eddie always knew how to make you feel special, even with just a look.

"Here, you can take mine." Eddie gets up. Alwasy the gentalman.

"No, it's okay. They are big enough we can share." You smile as you lay out your towel to sit at the end of the long white chair.

Conversations about everyone and how they have been lasted about an hour before you decided it was way too hot to not take advantage of the pool. While living in England, you have had to endure the cool and damp weather. It's such a contrast to the hot and humid summers that you grew up with in Hawkins. The scorching heat can sometimes get unbearable, yet a refreshing change from the gloomy weather back in England.

"I'm going in if anyone wants to join me." You set down your sweaty glass and walk over to the pool. Nancy and Robin follow closely behind before you glance back at the boys.

“Hey, come in with us.” You offer with a smile.

You hear a splash from the pool and see the two other girls' heads bobbing up from under the water.

Steve and Jon nod their head while Eddie shakes his no.

“You sure?” You offer once more, raising your brow.

Once again, Eddie shakes his head no before the other two boys grab him by the arms and drag him to the water's edge.

You giggle before taking a graceful dive in to join your girlfriends. The three of you tread water as you watch the boys struggle from land.

"Hey! Come on, I still have my shirt on!" Eddie protested.

"Take it off!" Robin yelled, pulling another giggle from you.

"Oh you think seeing me shirtless is funny, Peach?" He quipped. He was kidding, of course, but you couldn't help to fight off the blood rushing to your cheeks.

Too flustered to reply, you don't say anything; however, the boys save you by throwing Eddie in the pool. You flinch away from the splash of water that gets in your eyes and wait for Eddie to come back up for air. You stare at the spot that he was thrown in, but he doesn't come back up.

"Eddie?" you ask, feeling a bit worried. However, as you are standing in the water, a feeling of terror fear overtakes you as something grabs your waist from below the surface and pulls you backwards. You let out a small scream, but quickly cover your mouth as you feel strong arms wrap around you, holding you close to their chest.

"Teddy, you idiot!" You play scream but also can't hold back your laughter as Eddie pops back up for air, trying to swim off with you in toe.

"What? I'm saving you from sharks." He shrugs like he is doing the most obvious thing in the world.

"God, you haven't changed a bit, have you?" You gaze into his eyes as he pinned you against the pool wall. You can’t help but take in his beauty.

"What is that a bad thing?" He cocks his head.

"N-not at all," Your breath hitches.

For a fleeting moment, you lose the sense of your surroundings. You forget about group's presence that is intently observing your and Eddie's every move. It's as if you are in a bubble, separate from the rest of the world. Your attention is drawn to the black t-shirt that now clings tightly to his wet body, accentuating every contour of his muscles in a way you hadn't noticed before. During your high school days, you remembered him as a lanky teenager.

Now, you noticed he had put on a lot of muscle mass. His chest was broad and well-defined, his biceps looked like they were about to burst out of his shirt, and his forearms were thick and veiny.

You couldn't help but feel a slight tingle through your core as the thought of running your hands over his muscular chest crossed your mind…

"I like what you did with the ring." He flicked your necklace with his index finger, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Oh yeah, I, uh, it didn't fit, so... Had to keep it safe, you know." You chuckled awkwardly. "Never took it off."

"Never?" He was shocked.

"Never," You whispered back.

"Your boyfriend okay with having another man's ring around your neck, Sweetheart?"

"I-I-uh- no, no boyfriend." God, why was it like you had forgotten how to speak.

"Noted." You can't help but want to kiss the stupid gin off of his face.

You reminisced about the countless hours you had spent lost in your own thoughts, daydreaming about kissing his lips. Maybe, just maybe, a new beginning would allow Eddie to finally see you in the same light that you had always seen him. Little did you know Eddie also daydreamed about your lips. Especially the memory of watching you say those three words in the airport. It plagued his dreams day and night. He should have said them back, but he was too shocked to react, and before he knew what was happening, you were boarding the airplane to take you far far away from him.

"Okay, love birds, enough of this. We are playing macro polo!" Robin announced, popping the bubble that was you and Eddie.

You were suddenly embarrassed by your behaviour in front of your other friends. You were there to see everyone, not just Eddie, but you can’t help yourself, you have missed him so badly, sometimes you felt like your chest was in physical pain from how much your longed for him.

He still was the last person you thought about before going to bed many nights. Even the times when you had a boyfriend…That’s why none of your relationships worked, because he was right. You wore another man’s ring on your neck and refused to take it off no matter your relationship status. You were forever his, even if you technically never were, but your heart belongs to him.

The rest of the day was filled with laughter and catching up on old times. You tried your best to divide your attention to everyone but somehow you and Eddie were drawn to one another. He needed to be sitting next to you, to touch you whenever he could. To convince himself that you were in fact real and not going anywhere.

To Eddie you were the one that got away. The endless nights he stayed up thinking about you, the day you left, the days and nights spent, platonically, wishing he had just made a move… but maybe that would have made your move all that harder?

The ring was a spur of the moment decision that he was glad he made. He always caught you looking at it. He loved that you loved it and that you would have a piece of him while you were gone. He knew you would protect it and cherish it because he knew how much you knew it meant to him. It was one of the last things that he had left of his mother, and he felt that it symbolizes how much you meant to him…

Saying goodbye to every wasn’t half as painful as the last time you had to do it because it really wasn’t ‘goodbye’ but ‘see you later’.

Eddie offered to walk you to your car, before you left. He wanted to speak with you alone.

“It was really good seeing you” you lean against the door of your car.

“Yeah it really was… Um, hey… look can we talk?”

“Of course, what’s up?”

“I just need to know, why?”

“You gotta be more specific there Teds” you giggle.

“You tell me you love me then run away to England for almost a decade!.”

“Oh.”

How was it that this conversation was happening now, in Steve’s parents driveway? Things were fine a minute ago back in the house?

“How was I supposed to process that? What was I suppose to do with that information? Tell me Sweetheart because let me tell you it really fucked with my head.”

“Teddy I’m sorry, I was so young and scared but I had to let you know… I couldn’t stand the thought of you not knowing.”

“You didn’t even give me the change to say it back…”

“What?”

“ I said you-”

“I know what you said Eddie but you had plenty of chances! We wrote every week and we phone once a month what about them!”

“I can’t do this again…”

“Wh-what?” Your words betrayed you as your voice wobbled.

“It’s good to see you, but I don’t think I can go through all of this again.” Eddie couldn’t stop the words. He didn’t know why he was saying these things? This was not how this was suppose to go. But he was so mad you left him and he never got closure.

“Go through all of what?”

“You left. You left me here in Hawkins while you went out and became someone! I was held back two years, a fucking super senior as you were out in the world without me.”

“Oh I see. So this is my fault?” Now you were pissed. How dare he pin his mistakes on you.

“Forget it.”

You didn’t know what to do. You and Eddie never fought before? Now he’s a perfect stranger and yelling at you because you had left him. But he knew you were to leave eventually. How could he expect you to not go to your dream school? Why did he give you his ring?

“Well if that is how you feel.” You reach up to unlatch the chain from your neck and let go of the thing that had been attached to you for the past seven years.

Without a word you hand it to Eddie, and get in your car and drove home.

You cried the whole way home. It was a miracle you were able to see through the burning tears that stained your cheeks. Fitting that it should start to thunderstorm the second you get out of the car; at least it will hide your tears from your nosey neighbours.

As you stepped inside your apartment, the weight of the day's events pressed heavily on your mind. You reached for the nearest bottle and poured yourself a glass, savoring its amber color and the warmth it brought to your throat. The first glass went down quickly, followed by another and then another, each one helping to ease the pain of disappointment and frustration.

After a few hours of wallowing in self-pity and letting the alcohol work its magic, you finally gathered the courage to walk over to the phone. You braved the hallow ringing as it seemed to go on forever.

There's a fat chance he will answer, but you had to get this off your chest. You still love him.

"Hey, sorry I missed your call, just leave a message after the" beeeeep

"Hey, yeah, it's me... Peach. Just been thinking about everything tonight…And I don't know,” you sniffle. “I just miss you so much. I thought about you all the time… did you think about me? -shit- I’m a little drunk I uh…just ignore that last part. Give me a call back if you can?"

Shit, this was so stupid... could you sound any more desperate? “Did you think about me?” God, you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He’s already shot you down twice, but at this point, you would rather be hurt than feel nothing at all. He has found a permanent home within your heart, and the eviction notice has been shredded and burned.

After you hung up the phone, you went straight to bed. You did nothing but toss and turn for two hours. Thinking about Eddie and the words he spoke. You had to do something; you regretted giving him the ring back. Your neck felt bare without it like a part of you was missing.

As the rolling thunderstorm rumbled in the background, you heard a knock on the front door. At first, you were sure it was just the storm playing tricks on your mind. But then, you hear it again - three distinctive knocks that make you freeze in place. You couldn't help but wonder who could be knocking at your door at this hour and in the middle of a storm? Your mind raced with thoughts of potential intruders, lost travellers seeking shelter, or even a neighbour in need of assistance. With a sense of caution, you waited another minute, hoping to hear something that would help me identify the person on the other side of the door.

Again, three more knocks.

You let out a string of curses under your breath as you nervously glance towards the door, wondering who could be knocking at this ungodly hour. The darkness of the night envelopes you completely, with no one else around to offer you any comfort or protection. So you flick on the hallway light for some semblance of comfort.

The howling wind outside only adds to your anxiety as it whips through the trees with a mournful wail. The rain pelts against the ground with a relentless force, creating a deafening crescendo that echoes through the stillness of the night. You feel as though you're trapped in the middle of a horror story or some twisted nightmare.

“Peach, it’s me!” You hear a deep voice coming from the other side of the door as you slowly approach it. You peer through the peephole to double-check, but as soon as you see who is on the other side, you wrench the door open so fast that you almost take it off its hinges.

“Eddie?” You look at him with swollen eyes. "It's one in the morning."

"Quarter after, actually." His heart sank a little when you called him by his actual name.

"Okay?”

"You cheated me out of the chance to say it to your face! That's the least you and I, for that matter, deserved!" Eddie barged his way past you and into your home, not caring that he was leaving a puddle from the relentless downpour. He was drenched from the tips of his hair to the soles of his shoes. "You didn't even let me say it back!"

“You loved me?” The realization of his words sunk in.

“Not loved, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” the disappointment was evident on your face. Eddie could always read you like a book.

“Love, present tense.”

Your heart rate at this point should have been concerning. After all this time?

"and to answer your question, I thought about your every goddamn minute of every goddamn day."

"Please, I didn't mean any of that stuff I said back at Steve's. I don't know what came over me; I'm an idiot, forgive me? I take it all back!"

"You love me?"

"Yes, oh god, yes, I have since the ninth grade and never stopped!" Eddie's heart pounded in his chest as he awaited your reply. Maybe this was stupid? Perhaps he fucked up so badly that it was irreversible. Never did he ever think you would give him the ring back. He knew he fucked up the second you placed it in his hand, but he was too hard-headed to apologize.

When you exited the driveway, he immediately snapped out of his foolishness and started chasing you down the street. No way he was losing you again because of past hurt feelings and pure stupidity on his end. He can't believe he was about to let you walk away from him. Again.

"Please say something?" Eddie pleaded, stepping closer to you.

"I don't know what to say, Eddie? You've been sending me mixed signals all day."

"What is it you need? Space? Time?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"You!"

"Me?"

"I just need you now." With a surge of courage, you stepped forward and closed the distance between you and Eddie.

Heart racing, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, feeling the cold, wet rain residue and softness of his mouth against yours. It was a moment of pure bliss, leaving you breathless.

After years and years of imagining, dreaming, and picturing, this moment finally came to fruition. Some may say it was a manifestation; others might say it was destiny.

An overwhelming heat bloomed from your core and spread throughout your whole body as Eddie’s strong hands explored your exposed skin. Your burning need to overpower the feeling of the coldness of Eddie’s wet, damp clothing. You had been wearing an oversized shirt and underwear when you opened the door, but that only aided him.

His hands trailed up from your hips and slid under your shirt so he could hold you by your waist. As he tasted you, he pressed his body further into you, pushing you back further down the hall towards the bedroom.

"You have me." He pulled away breathlessly as he took you in. Your once dry white shirt was now damp and translucent, sticking to your body. Eddie couldn't help but groan at the sight of your peaked nipples trying to pierce their way through the thin material blocking you from him.

You could feel the pool of arousal collecting in your panties. Never had you been so turned on in your life than in this moment.

“I have you.” You mumble before taking his lips once again. You let his tongue part your lips as he explored your mouth. You tasted like mint toothpaste and a hint of whiskey.

"Baby, I need you now." He moans.

Baby. A plume of butterflies erupted deep within you at the name. There was no going back now; you and Eddie were destined to be together like it was written in the cosmos.

Despite the tension between you two, somehow, you managed to break apart just enough to lead him to the bedroom. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as you both stood there, breathing heavily, staring into each other's eyes.

"You're perfect," Eddie whispered as he backed you up onto the bed that stood in the middle of the room.

You willingly fell back onto the soft sheets below as his lips met yours. Needy hands pulled at the fabric that separated you.

Lightning lit up the room as your silhouettes danced on the walls. Eddie, atop your body, melted into your plush bed as you both stripped fully.

“Please, Eddie,” you whined as he was taking too slow; the wet fabric clung to his clammy skin. He needed warming up, but you knew just the cure. “I’ve waited for so long.”

“Me too, Sweetheart.”

Having been confined for what seemed like an eternity, he was finally able to break free from the shackles of his own clothes that had become a wet and cold prison for him.

You are both now fully naked in your room. You take in the sight of the man before you and what a man he is. Drinking in every last detail your eyes could see in the dim light. He had more tattoos than when you had left, and you were right about his body being more filled out than you remembered. And his cock, so beautiful you could almost cry at how perfect it was.

“God you’re beautiful.” Eddie whispers as he did the same thing.

"So are you." You reach up to take his rough cheek in your palm, gently pulling him down towards you. You sigh into the kiss as you feel Eddie’s weight fall on you.

You can’t help but grind your hips up into his throbbing cock. It’s rock hard as it rests on your soft middle.

Eddie reaches between your two connected bodies and finds your wet pussy with his fingers. A feral moan leaves your lips, and his calloused fingers brush against your swollen, sensitive clit.

The lewd sounds of lips smacking and Eddie playing with your wet pussy fills the room with the pounding of the storm in the background.

“Please, Eddie, I can’t wait. I just need you now.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, please I need your cock so bad.” You begged. There was no time for foreplay; you’ve waited long enough for this moment.

Eddie couldn’t believe this was happening to him.

“I don’t-I didn’t- shut I don’t have-”

“I’m on birth control,” you blurt out.

“You sure?”

“Please, Eddie, I need to feel you… to fill me. All of you.” You craned your neck to reach up and kiss the side of his. You marked him, leaving a significant bite mark that would let everyone know he’s taken. He is yours. Always has been.

“Shit, okay,” he moans as your mouth explores his throat. Eddie would do anything you asked of him at this point.

Eddie slowly guides through your folds, collecting your slick on his shaft, and glides into your pussy.

God, you felt amazing, so wet, so warm, so tight. His perfect girl.

“Oh my god,” you arch up into him so you could feel every inch of him.

“You look so pretty like this.” he mewled as he slowly ground his cock into your needy pussy.

“Fuck fuck fuck” Eddie rambled as he hit the hilt. He slowly dragged his cock back and rocked gently back into you like he didn’t want you to break.

You captured his lips on yours once again, muffling your throaty moans.

Eddie was tender; Eddie was sweet. He wanted to make sure you knew he wasn’t just fucking you; he was making love to you.

God, he loved you, even though all those years separated you. He still loved you.

“Eddie, feels so good!” Your mind was captivated by him. Everything in this moment was eternally Eddie.

Eddie’s hips never stopped, they sped up only a little to gain momentum as the sticky heat between you only grew more are more delicious.

“You feel that baby?”

“Oh god, yes.” You hook your ankles around Eddie's back, pulling him in deeper. His cock hit your g spot with each grind and roll of his hips.

His hands find yours, and he laces his fingers between your own, bringing your hands above your head.

“You make me feel so good; oh god, your pussy is taking me so well, fuckin’ made for me.”

“Mmmmhmmmm,” you agree, “made to be with you,” you moan.

“Yea, baby, you think we were made for each other?”

“Yes,” you answered, too fucked out to be self-conscious about what you were saying.

Your orgasm was quickly building and building as Eddie’s hips continued to grind into yours.

“I love you,” you let slip as Eddie continues to make you feel like you’re floating.

You’ve died and reached heaven. You swore nothing could make you feel better. But you were mistaken; Eddie proved you wrong with the next words that were uttered out of his mouth.

"I love you." He sealed his declaration of love with an emotional kiss.

Your head spun with his words. Did he really just say that? Are you really here? The reality of where you are hits you hard as your orgasm rips through you. You were in bed with Eddie, your Eddie. Eddie, who makes you feel safe and loved and important and worshiped.

“Oh my god, oh my god!”

“Shit-fuck” your cunt clamped down on Eddie so tightly as he tried to hold on a little longer, savouring the moment, trying to hold out as long as possible.

“Where do you want it?” He breathlessly asked.

Still making love to you for as long as he could hold off until you told him you loved him again over and over, totally overcome by the serotonin washing your brain, you don’t even know you’re speaking.

“Inside,” you look up into Eddie’s eyes, and he cums immediately. He swore he never heard more beautiful words.

Eddie slowly pumped himself inside of you as he rode out his orgasm, and you kissed every inch of his face.

“I’m never letting you go.” He sighs as he collapses his body weight on top of yours.

“Good, because I’m never going anywhere without you again.” You incase him in a bear hug as your legs and arms wrap around his body one more.

“I love you, Peach.”

“I love you more, Teddy.”

Taglist: @seexyyprincess @cigarettesaftersmut @urdadsnewgiirlfriend @sunnythespookyghost @babybimbo777 @luxaeterna13 @edge-just-edge @slayyymisha @veemoon @asimpforthe80s @chrrymunson @skyline4446 @xxhellfirebunnyxx @paperbackprettyboy @hellfirenacht

[crows-in-the-house]

Can't take my eyes of you

summary: hc's for Stanford having a crush on reader

pairing: Stanford Pines x reader

tw: none

after being alone for years in different dimensions with no hope of escape? tauch starved 100%.

has separation anxiety and will want to stay with his loved ones most of the time. if he ever wakes up from a nightmare you better comfort him, reminding he's home and safe. kisses and hugs will be apprecieated

wants to ramble about his interests but will be quiet around his love interest to not sound "too weird"

(please ask him about fantasy and science fiction stuff! he will share all his theories with you!)

also, he would love to teach you things, no matter if it is math, physics, the anomalous, his knowladge won't go to waste!

he takes allnighters just so he can plan out every interaction with you for the next day

def an overthinker

won't be opposed to take you for missions to spend time together. He knows how to keep you safe from any harm. He doesn't realize how hot he looks when doing it tho.

will also enjoy you patching him up. Getting beaten by an alien is worth it when he sees you running with bandages! Just don't mention the blush on his face, he won't be able to say anything withaut stammering for hours!

helping him with shaving? so he doesn't set himself on fire? lovely. his mind is racing with ideas to take you on dates.

helping him solve a hard equasion which he worked on for hours? great! his mind is imagining you two getting married.

he would also let you wear his coat, you don't even have to ask! he will see you wear it, smile and go back running to his lab to create a machine that prints memories on paper

will scan your dna to see how compatable you two are

let's you peak into his journals! Sometimes even you can draw in them or add some memrabilia like photos, pretty leaves or sticky notes.

to be honest, all your sticky notes are in there. just neatly hidden between glued pages or in secret envelope pockets

he's a little insecure about his hands - hold them! he will melt!

over all 10/10 pinning and blushing, you will have to nudge him a little to make a move

[yannawayne]

vi. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Surgical procedures, Panic Attacks, Arguments AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

NOTE: THIS IS PART 6. I POSTED 2 CHAPTERS TODAY! PART 5 IS HERE

 ༻⊰───⋅

"No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday, 8:35 AM - Gotham Academy, Gotham City.

The halls of Gotham Academy buzzed with the usual chatter and laughter—a total disconnect from the storm of nerves brewing inside you. You zigzagged through the crowd, your trusty, battle-worn Converse scuffing against the linoleum. Damian’s varsity jacket hung over your uniform, the hood pulled low to hide the cuts on your face.

Morgan had ditched you at the entrance, probably off to plot some mad science in the labs. Not exactly your idea of fun, so you opted for aimless wandering instead.

And if I only could I'd make a deal with God.  And I'd get Him to swap our places.  Be runnin' up that road.  Be runnin' up that hill  Be runnin' up that building. 

Your headphones were snug, the music offering a temporary refuge as you walked, your head instinctively nodding to the beat. Even with the volume cranked up, you couldn’t shake the awareness of every shift in the crowd, the way the jacket rubbed against your sore muscles, or the stiffness in your back and arm from the muscle tear. Concerned whispers drifted past you, catching on the currents of passing conversations, but you kept moving, trying to lose yourself in the rhythm of the song.

When you reached Damian’s locker, you leaned against it, letting the cool metal soothe your aching back. You adjusted the hood of his jacket, tugging it further down to hide the cuts around your face. With your free hand, you quickly typed out a message to Damian, your fingers flying over the screen, each tap a small burst of nervous energy.

You:

"At your locker."

You hit send, slipped your phone back into your pocket, then immediately pulled it out again. This time, you opened Twitter, your thumb instinctively scrolling through your feed for any updates on the recent incident.

Tweets about the attack were already trending, paired with blurry photos and clickbait headlines. You cringed as fan accounts for #Nightcrawler started flooding in. It was wild how fast the public’s attention could flip from genuine concern to a full-blown obsession with the latest hero—or villain. 

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders building as you scrolled through the flood of posts.

“Beloved?”

A tanned hand brushed gently against your arm, followed by the sight of polished brown dress shoes stepping into view.

“Dami,” you murmured with a relieved smile, leaning into his hold, your head still bowed.

Damian instinctively pulled you into a hug, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. The embrace was firm but careful, as if he feared you might break under too much pressure. He could feel the stiffness in your muscles, your body wound tight with unspoken tension. His eyes narrowed with concern, but he stayed silent, letting the quiet speak for both of you.

His gaze flicked to your phone screen, catching sight of the trending tweets.

“Nightcrawler…” Damian murmured, and you lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes.

Sighing, you shifted so your cheek rested against his chest, the cool scent of his cologne grounding you. You kept scrolling, clicking on a particularly cringeworthy tweet and wincing at the fanatical comments.

“Can you believe these people?” you murmured, frustration seeping into your voice. “It’s insane.”

Sometimes you wondered how Damian and his brothers dealt with all the fanatics, the constant drooling over their hero personas—or even their civilian lives.

Damian’s grip tightened as he held you closer, his brow furrowing in disapproval as he read the tweets over your shoulder.

Repulsive. To him, it was a grotesque spectacle. The media had managed to paint the Spider into a celebrated hero, a figure of admiration, when in reality, the person behind that mask was nothing more than a monster, cloaked in deception and false heroism.

“They’re utterly obsessed,” Damian scoffed. “It’s as if they’ve completely forgotten there’s a real person behind that mask.”

“I know, right?” You sighed, closing Twitter and slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Like, I really don’t want to see those posts. They’re just—so much.”

Damian noticed your distress and instinctively started rubbing soothing circles on your back. But as his hand moved, a sharp muscle spasm seized your shoulder. You cursed, a wince escaping you as the sensation left you momentarily frozen. It felt as if someone had taken a wrench to your shoulder, yanking and twisting until every fiber protested in sharp, jarring bursts. 

Damian’s hand froze.

Muscle tear. He realized.

Without a word, he guided you gently into a nearby janitor’s closet. The door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the noise of the bustling hallway and granting you both some much-needed privacy. 

Inside, he carefully placed his hand on your elbow and began to stretch the affected muscle. You winced as a sharp twinge of pain flared, but Damian’s voice was soft and soothing.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple,  offering a small but comforting distraction from the pain.

Gradually, the pain eased, and you let out a sigh of relief. Your shoulders relaxed, the tight knots unwinding.

"I love you and your weird Robin skills," you said with a grateful smile, rolling your shoulders and feeling the tension dissipate.

Damian’s lips twitched into a faint, approving smile, though his voice remained gruff. “Love you too.”

He continued to watch you with a keen, sharp gaze, noticing the hood of your hoodie pulled up. His eyes traced the shadowy outline of your face, and he realized he hadn’t seen it clearly. His expression shifted to one of concern, a frown creasing his brow.

“Why haven’t you taken your hood down?” he asked quietly, his voice low and probing.

You pursed your lips, trying to edge toward the exit. But before you could make a clean getaway, Damian’s hand shot out, gripping your arm and yanking you back into him. You collided with his chest, and for a second, it felt like you’d just hugged a brick wall in a hoodie.

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

“Uh, nowhere, apparently,” you sighed, realizing escape wasn’t in the cards today.

“Look. I just didn’t want to get my hair messed up,” you continued, trying to sound casual, but the words felt hollow in the small, enclosed space.

“Oh yeah…?” Damian murmured in disbelief, his voice thick with something darker. His eyes narrowed, and without warning, he bent down to your height, his rough fingers sliding up your jacket. You felt the fabric shift and the warmth of his hand against your side.

You swallowed hard, your hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders. Your nails dug into the fabric of his uniform as you tried to push him back.

“Pull the hood off,” he demanded, his hands working insistently to tug it up. You sputtered out protests, swatting at his hands, but Damian was relentless. “Habibti, let me see! Pull it up—let me see!”

Your grip on the hood tightened, your knuckles going white as you held on for dear life. But Damian’s concern bulldozed through any resistance you put up. He mumbled curses, and suddenly shifted tactics. Bending down, his hands slid under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. He pinned you against the wall, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist as your weight pressed into his hips.

"Damian, stop!" you groaned, trying to push him away.

But he ignored your plea, yanking the hood off. His eyes widened in shock as he took in the full extent of your injuries. Cuts and bandages marred your face, some fresh, others scabbing over. Dark bruises colored your cheek, spreading out like ominous clouds.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded, even though he was already cursing a certain spider vigilante in his head. Damian dipped his head low, his dangerous glare cutting through you. “Tell me who hurt you, and I’ll make them pay.”

“Baby, you’re being melodramatic. It’s just a few bruises,” you deflected, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll survive.”

“Plus, it’s not like you can just go around punching everyone who hurts me,” you huffed, wincing as you tried to pull your hood back up. Damian scowled and yanked it down again.

“Yes, I can.”

“Oh my god,” you said, raising an eyebrow and trying to stifle a smile. “I hate you so much.”

Damian tightened his hold, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Our relationship status says otherwise. And I’m not letting go until I get answers.”

You squirmed in his embrace, attempting to free yourself, but he held you tightly. “Seriously, let go.”

“No.”

“You’re going to miss your first period.”

“And?”

“Your education will be in ruins.”

“Beloved, my GPA is already at a 5.0. I’ve been at the top of my class since junior high. Missing one period won’t ruin my future.”

You groaned and grabbed the nearest object—a mop. Raising it in a mock-threatening manner, you declared, “I’m seriously considering hitting you with this until you let me go.”

Damian gave a flat “Tch,” raising a hand to the metal handle. With a casual squeeze, he bent the metal in half effortlessly. You blinked.

Okay, that's a little annoying, but also super, super, super hot.

“Seriously? You’re showing off now?” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Showing off?” Damian arched an eyebrow. “I’m merely proving a point.”

“I can handle myself!” you insisted, frustration creeping into your voice.

“Clearly,” he shot back, eyes narrowing. “That’s why you’re covered in cuts and bruises.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped, your irritation bubbling over.

“I would be delighted to,” Damian replied, his tone dripping with syrupy sweetness that was equal parts enticing and infuriating.

"Ugh!" you groaned, pulling the hood back over your face in a futile attempt to hide.

“Drop the theatrics and tell me what happened,” he sighed, tugging the hood back down. “I need to know so I can handle it.”

“I already handled it! I just need some rest, okay?” you retorted, rubbing a hand over your tired eyes. "I can fight my own battles, thank you very much."

Damian’s jaw tightened at your response, setting off alarm bells in his head. He’d need to dig deeper—because if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that you weren’t giving him the full story.

"You're not telling me everything," he said firmly. "But I’ll find out. I always do."

“Uh-huh, sure," you said, rolling your eyes as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform and yanked him closer. “You’re such a control freak, you know that?”

Damian scowled, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “And you’re impossibly stubborn.”

“Yeah, well, you’re nosy.”

“Nosy?” He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking. “I prefer the term thorough.”

“Right,” you said, barely holding back a laugh. You shook your head with a smile and leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey.”

Damian’s eyes softened as he closed the distance between you. You melted into him, pulling him into a tender kiss. Damian hummed softly, the vibration tickling your lips and adding a cozy warmth to the moment. He kissed you again, and again, each one a little more affectionate than the last. Your laughter bubbled up, breathy and light, as you both got caught in a playful rhythm. His nose nudged against yours, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

The sudden ringing of the school bell cut through the moment.

“Mmph!” You pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at your lips as you gently stroked his cheek. “You… probably should get to class.”

It took a few more (okay, a lot more) minutes before Damian finally let you go. You practically had to wrestle your way out of his arms, like he was a kid clinging to a favorite toy. When you told him to go back to class instead of tagging along with you and Morgan, he sulked like a toddler.

Despite his stormy mood, you managed to convince him to head back. As you both stepped out of the closet, Damian trudged away with a grumble, throwing one last dramatic look over his shoulder.

“Behave yourself,” you laughed, waving him away before setting off to find Morgan.

When you finally spotted her by the entrance, she was holding up a flash drive like it was the Holy Grail. Meanwhile, you looked like you’d just been through a whirlwind: your hair was a tousled mess, your jacket was askew, and your tie was twisted at an odd angle. 

“Got the goods?” you asked, breathless as you straightened your tie and smoothed down your messy hair.

“Yep,” Morgan said with a grin, her eyes darting to your state of disarray. “Damn. A janitor’s closet, huh? I see it got pretty heated in there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, scoffing and giving her a kick to the shin. “Nothing happened, you ass. We were just talking. I had to practically wrestle my way out because he was going nuts over my injuries.”

Morgan chuckled, tucking the flash drive into her pocket. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with him.”

You raised an eyebrow at her. "How did you know it was the janitor’s closet, anyway?"

“CCTV,” Morgan simply shrugged. “Was checking out the live feed for security. And I figured you two were up to something when I saw you both ducking out of the room. The system was laughably easy to hack into. I was honestly surprised.”

“You’re Tony Stark’s daughter,” you snarked. “Anything less than government-level encryption is basically child’s play for you.”

Morgan grinned. “True that. But there’s one tiny issue.” She raised a finger and twirled it in the air. “I might have tripped a few alarms.”

WEE-OWW-WEE-OWW!

The distant blare of sirens cut through the air, growing louder with each passing second. Red and blue lights began to flicker through the windows.

You stared at Morgan, incredulous. 

“What. What the fuck!? What did you do?”

“Let’s just say security’s gonna be a bit more interested in our location now. Oopsie!” Morgan’s grin widened. “I had to shut down some things to avoid detection. So, the power’s going to go out in 3…2…1.”

As she finished her countdown, the lights flickered erratically before plunging the hallway into complete darkness. A heartbeat later, the wail of the announcement system cut through the silence, urgently repeating, “Please evacuate the building. Please evacuate immediately.” The strobing red emergency lights cast frantic shadows, and chaos erupted as students screamed, darting from classrooms and colliding in the dark.

Morgan spread her arms wide, a triumphant grin plastered across her face as if she’d just dropped a mic. “Boom.”

“What the hell about this screams ‘stealth’ to you?” you whisper-shouted, grabbing Morgan’s hand and pulling her toward the exit.

Morgan’s eyes gleamed with excitement as she squeezed your hand in return. "It’s way more fun this way."

You both sprinted down the dimly lit corridor, your footsteps echoing through the hallways and mingling with the blaring alarms.

Turning a corner, you nearly collided with a group of students stumbling through the chaos. Their faces were masks of panic. One of them tripped, sprawling onto the floor with an undignified thud.

“Watch it! Are you okay?” you shouted, skidding to a halt and kneeling to help the fallen student.

Morgan, unable to hold back, burst into laughter. “Dumbasses!”

You shot her a half-angry, half-exasperated look. “Just get us out of here before we get arrested for public disturbance!”

“Right behind you!” Morgan said, grabbing your hand again and pulling you both into a sprint. As you neared the exit, the muffled voices of security personnel grew louder, rushing to restore power. With one last burst of speed, you burst through the exit doors, the alarms fading into the distance.

Morgan looked over at you, her face glowing with sweat and a victorious grin. “And that’s how you make an exit.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Friday - The Safehouse, Gotham City.

After your adrenaline-pumping escape and a bumpy ride across the city in an Uber that looked like it had seen better days—note to self: next time, cab— you finally made it back to the safehouse.

Morgan was already at the main table, surrounded by a chaotic sea of files and documents spread out across multiple screens. Her eyes were locked onto the flash drive she’d pulled from the school, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she sifted through the data.

A few steps away, you were hunched over a cluttered workbench in the tech area, surrounded by spools of web fluid and a mess of metal tools. The entire day had been spent tinkering, but finally, your whip project was coming together.

With a few final tweaks, you picked up the whip and gave it a few test swings. 

You couldn’t help but think back to when you were a kid, watching Selina work her whip with that effortless skill. You’d sit in the corner of the training room, eyes wide, totally mesmerized. She made it look so easy, so natural. Inspired, you’d sneak off to your room after her sessions, grabbing whatever you could find—a belt, a rope, anything that even remotely resembled a whip. You’d slam the door behind you and practice in secret.

Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror—awkward, stumbling, and kind of a hot mess—but you didn’t give a damn. You’d keep at it, again and again, dead set on matching her skill, even if it meant looking like a total idiot in the process.

CRACK!

Morgan jumped, her chair spinning around as she stared at you with wide eyes. You couldn't help but grin as you sauntered toward her, twirling the whip around your body. The webbing swirled through the air, curving gracefully around you in a move straight out of Catwoman's playbook. With a final flourish, you cracked it down onto the floor, the sharp snap echoing through the room.

Morgan’s ears flushed red, and she shifted in her chair, clearly taken aback. “Woah. That’s hot as fuck.”

You laughed, tossing her a wink. “Glad you think so. I was channeling my inner Catwoman.”

Still a bit flustered, Morgan cleared her throat and extended her hand. You placed the whip into her palm, and she inspected it closely, her fingers tracing the intricate details of your craftsmanship.

“Seriously, though,” she said, looking up at you, “Where’d you learn to handle a whip like that?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Just a little bit of practice, you know? I’ve had some pretty good teachers.”

Your gaze then shifted to her screen, where a file on Ivy's toxins was open. Charts, chemical structures, and old lab notes cluttered the display.

“Thought you were going through Octavius’ files?” you asked.

“Oh, I was," Morgan handed the whip back to you with a shrug.

"But then I stumbled on this.” She pointed at the screen. “Insane, right? Did you know Gotham University lets their Botany majors examine Ivy’s toxins? There are detailed reports from student lab projects—college students analyzing some seriously dangerous stuff. Who thinks that's a good idea?”

You arched an eyebrow. “It’s Gotham University. Top in the country. They probably consider it a rite of passage. It’s not like the city holds back on the bizarre.”

Morgan shook her head, her disbelief morphing into a bemused smile. “Seriously, though, it’s even in their chemistry curriculum. ‘Advanced Chemistry: How to Survive Ivy’s Toxins 101.’ Like, what kind of class is that?”

You chuckled. “Sounds like standard Gotham fare. The city has a way of turning even the most mundane academic subjects into survival skills.”

As you stared at the file, your mind drifted to Ivy—Pamela Isley, who had once been a big part of your life. Back when she was close with Selina, you even used to call her Aunt Isley. It felt right at the time, natural, given how much she was around.

One memory stood out: Ivy had to leave town, and she’d entrusted Selina with her beloved plants. You were just a kid, but you remember how excited you were to have Ivy’s vibrant greenery filling the place. Selina had promised to take good care of them, but… she forgot. Just plain forgot to water them.

When Ivy returned, the plants were withered and dead. For someone like Ivy—an eco-terrorist with a green thumb so legendary she could probably make a cactus bloom in a snowstorm—this was more than just a mistake. It felt like a betrayal.

The fallout was brutal. Ivy was livid, and Selina was wrecked. If you hadn’t been there to calm things down, Ivy might’ve strangled Selina with a vine on the spot.

Morgan sighed dramatically, pushing her chair back from the screen and stretching like a cat. "I’m so over these files," she announced, spinning around to face you with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We need to do something fun."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued as she started navigating through a map on her command center. "What are you up to?"

"Finding us a little adventure," she replied, her grin widening as she zoomed in on a spot on the outskirts of Gotham. "Look at this—an old, supposedly abandoned greenhouse. Rumor has it, it’s still full of Ivy’s plants. We should go check it out."

You blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "You want to go trespassing in an abandoned greenhouse filled with potentially dangerous plants?"

Morgan shrugged with a carefree grin. "Why not? It’s way more exciting than sitting here with these boring files. Besides, think of the intel we could gather! Maybe even some samples. If you're serious about this hero thing, having some cures on hand could be pretty useful."

You raised an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, my focus was on tech companies. Not plants."

Morgan leaned back in her chair, throwing her hands up. "C'mon, it’ll be fun! We could call it a ‘field trip’ for our mission."

You scoffed, but a smirk tugged at your lips as you grabbed your glasses. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart and responsible one among the two of us?”

Morgan shot you a playful smile as she grabbed her jacket. “Smart enough to know when we need a break.”

She slung her jacket over her shoulder with a casual flick. “And who knows? We might stumble into something interesting or at least have a hell of a time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Fine, but if this turns into a mess, you’re the one explaining it to Tony.”

“Deal,” Morgan grinned, heading toward the door. “Now let’s get out of here before I lose my mind.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 12:34 AM - Ivy's 'Abandoned' Warehouse, Gotham City.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the overgrown landscape as you swung through the rainy Gotham air. Raindrops pattered against your suit, mixing with the cool breeze as you guided both yourself and Morgan down toward the warehouse’s perimeter. You landed softly on the other side of the fence, the wet ground beneath you squelching slightly.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, shrouded in shadows and engulfed by a thick veil of greenery. Vines and creeping plants had swallowed the building, twisting their way up the walls and breaking through the broken windows. Shrubs and wild foliage sprawled across the once-smooth concrete, creating a tangled jungle that had overtaken the area.

You and Morgan navigated through the thick underbrush, your footsteps muffled by the lush carpet of foliage. 

“Welcome to the jungle,” Morgan whispered, adjusting her glasses as raindrops collected on the lenses. She reached for a flashlight, flicking it on to cut through the gloomy darkness.

“Did you really have to pick the creepiest spot in Gotham?” you muttered, glancing around warily. Your spider senses buzzed faintly, a low hum that told you to stay alert, though you weren’t entirely sure what you should be on the lookout for.

As you approached the warehouse’s entrance, you noticed the heavy wooden doors were slightly ajar, propped open by a stubborn vine wedged in the gap. You took a few steps back, then charged at the door with all your might. It crashed inward with a resounding clang, sending splinters flying and the vine recoiling.

CLANG!

You kicked the door aside and stepped into a scene that looked like something straight out of a botanical horror movie. The interior of the warehouse was a riot of green. Hanging plants and tendrils formed a dense canopy overhead. The remnants of old plant pots and scientific equipment were half-buried under layers of creeping vines and moss.

“Keep your eyes peeled for anything useful,” you said, stepping inside.

The plan was simple: infiltrate the location, gather as much information as possible, and leave before anyone even noticed you were there.

Your boots squelched slightly on the damp ground as you made your way further into the labyrinth of greenery. Morgan followed close behind, her flashlight beam scanning the surroundings.

“Looks like she really made herself at home. Can’t believe she’d leave all these beauties behind,” she murmured.

After a few minutes of searching, you stumbled upon a makeshift lab tucked away in a corner of the warehouse. Old tables and shelves, now covered in a thick layer of dust and grime, held an assortment of glassware, old notebooks, and strange samples.

Morgan’s eyes lit up as she approached the lab. “This must be it! Look at all this stuff.”

Kneeling down, she began sifting through the clutter, her flashlight revealing dusty glassware, faded notebooks, and a variety of botanical samples in various states of preservation. She carefully picked up a few jars, examining the contents with growing fascination.

You stood guard by the door, senses on high alert. The slow hum of your spider senses gradually intensified, morphing into a persistent, almost blaring buzz in the back of your mind. It felt like a magnetic pull, drawing your focus to every flicker of shadow and rustle of the unseen. 

Morgan, oblivious to your heightened alertness, was engrossed in a particularly worn notebook.

"This is so fucking cool," she said, her eyes wide with excitement. "Check out these notes—they look like they’re from Ivy’s earlier research. She was experimenting with ways to boost plant growth, mixing toxins, and even concocting some kind of antidote."

As Morgan continued to study the notebook, the buzzing in your senses grew stronger. You tensed, feeling a prickling chill race up your spine and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. There was something else in the warehouse—something you couldn’t immediately identify, but it was there.

“Morgan,” you said quietly. “I’m getting a bad feeling.”

Morgan looked up from her work, fingers curled around a test tube. “What do you mean?”

“Just keep your eyes open,” you warned, eyes narrowing as you scanned the shadows. “Start packing up and be quick. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Morgan’s fingers flew over the lab equipment as she grabbed several samples and shoved them into her bag. The air seemed to grow thicker, the plants rustling with an almost eerie liveliness.

!!!

“We need to go. Now!” you hissed, urgently grabbing Morgan and pulling her to her feet.

Morgan flinched but scrambled up, stuffing the worn notebook she’d found into her jacket. “Alright… let me just—”

Before she could finish, your spider senses exploded into a full-blown scream of warning.

DANGER.

“Get down!”

Without warning, you grabbed Morgan and pushed her down behind some crates, your suit beginning to uncloak.

A thick vine lashed out from the shadows, slamming into your side with a force that knocked the wind out of you. Pain exploded where the vine struck, radiating through your ribs as you skidded backward and crashed into a metal rack.

Your helmet hadn’t fully materialized in time, and the impact with the shelving unit sent a jarring shock through your skull, leaving you dazed and disoriented.

"A little spider has wandered into my web~"

Shit.

Warmth trickled down from your forehead where the impact had split the skin. With a shaky breath, you pushed yourself off the rack, using it for support as you steadied yourself.

"Hello, crazy plant lady," you quipped, your helmet materializing as the voice modulator kicked in.

You weren’t her estranged niece now; you were Nightcrawler, Gotham's latest hero.

From above, Ivy unfurled herself from the ceiling, smirking as she lounged on a sprawling leaf. Vines curled around her with languid grace, reacting to her slightest gesture as if extensions of her will.

"Ah, Gotham's newest little hero," Ivy's voice was a melodious yet chilling purr, her laughter echoing softly through the warehouse. "What brings you to my sanctuary?"

The slits in your mask narrowed as you drew your claws and unclipped your whip from your belt. Ivy’s eyes narrowed at the choice of weapons, a flicker of recognition in her gaze. She was clearly connecting the similarities between you and Catwoman.

"Oh, just swinging by to see what all the fuss is about. Heard you've been busy in Gotham."

Ivy's smile sharpened, a glint of admiration lighting up her emerald eyes.

"Hm. Spunk," she purred, hands moving to tangle in her hair. "I do appreciate that in my visitors."

Out of the corner of your visor, you spotted Morgan inching away. You gave her a discreet nod, signaling her to keep going while you kept your focus locked on Ivy.

"So, this place wasn’t as abandoned as I thought," you said, trying to keep Ivy talking and distracted. "For someone who supposedly retired from the spotlight, you sure know how to throw a party."

Ivy threw her head back and laughed. "Retired?" she repeated. "Oh, honey, you have no idea."

Around you, vines stirred, their sinewy tendrils snaking up your legs like snakes. Unfazed, you subtly shifted your weight, and then, with a swift slash of your claws, the vines split apart. You flipped away, slipping out of their grasp with ease.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice when my darlings are disturbed?” Ivy’s voice dripped with mockery. “Just when I finally manage to reclaim this space from concrete and steel, pests like you decide to get curious.”

“Look, I’ve got a busy schedule,” you quipped, narrowly dodging a lashing vine. “So how about we skip the tango and save us both a night of pain?”

“Oh, you’re simply delightful,” Ivy purred,sultry and chilling. “Very well, little spider. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

In a heartbeat, Ivy was in motion. Vines shot through the air like whips, each one aiming to entangle or strike. You sidestepped a thick vine that snapped past your ear and rolled under another that slammed into the floor where you’d just been. Your senses were on fire.

Beep!

In the corner of your visor, Morgan’s face flickered into view—a welcome sight amid the chaos. The camera feed was shaky, but you could make out her anxious expression as she huddled behind a stack of crates, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.

“Are you okay?” you hissed through the comms, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of vines around you.

“M Outside! Sorry! I…I didn’t realize Ivy was here!” Morgan said, her voice tinged with panic. “I thought this place was a total ghost town!”

“Apologize later!” you shouted back, ducking a swinging vine. “Just stay out of sight. I’ll catch up with you once I deal with the plant lady!”

With a quick flip, you barely managed to dodge another flurry of whipping vines. You drew back your whip and snapped it towards the incoming tendrils, slicing through them. 

Ivy scowled, her eyes narrowing as she watched her plants get cut down. She retaliated, sending a fresh wave of vines hurtling toward you.

You dodged and weaved, the thick, green tendrils brushing against your suit. Each crack of your whip was followed by a sharp hiss of defeated foliage.

You charged through, ducking and weaving to avoid the onslaught. When you were close enough, you landed a solid left hook to Ivy’s face, the impact echoing with a satisfying thud. Ivy’s head snapped back with a sharp yelp of pain. You laughed, not giving her a moment to regroup, and threw another punch straight to her jaw.

JAB!

“Had enough, or should I keep going?” you taunted.

Ivy’s eyes flared with rage. “You little—”

Leaping onto a stack of crates to dodge another lash from her vines, you shot a web at Ivy. The sticky strands wrapped around her wrists, pinning her securely against a nearby support beam.

Ivy struggled against the webbing, her vines twitched with agitation as they lashed out. You kept your whip and claws at the ready, prepared for any sudden moves.

“Alright, listen up,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Unless you want more of your precious plants turned into mulch, I suggest you calm down.”

“Calm down?” Ivy hissed, her frustration barely contained. “You’re the intruder here, desecrating my sanctuary. I won’t tolerate this!”

You took a deep breath, trying to defuse the situation. “Look, I’m really sorry about the intrusion. Didn’t mean to step on your botanical toes. We were just here to explore—”

“Explore?” Ivy’s brow shot up. “Is that why your friend took of my vials and papers?”

You stared at her, blinking a few times. Then, with a sheepish shrug, you said, “Okay, to be fair, you left that stuff lying around. It kind of looked like it was up for grabs. Plus, we didn’t exactly see a ‘Keep Out’ sign.”

“So, it’s a case of ‘finders keepers,’ then?” she scowled. “And here I thought you were a little more refined than that.”

“Hey!” you said, walking towards her until you were just a foot away. “I’m just calling it like I see it, lady. Maybe if you knew how to clean up, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Ivy tossed her hair over her shoulder, the golden-orange strands cascading like vines down her back. She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your jaw, her breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.

“Well, if you’re so keen on exploring,” she purred, her voice a sultry whisper, “I could show you something that’ll really satisfy your curiosity.”

!!!

Your spider senses flared with urgent warnings, but before you could react, Ivy thrust a slender vine beneath the edge of your helmet. In an instant, a cloud of pollen erupted inside your mask, catching you completely off guard. You gasped and choked, stumbling backward as your vision blurred and your nose was overwhelmed by the suffocating, heady scent of the pollen.

Your visor’s alarms blared, vitals flashing urgently:

TOXIN DETECTED.

“Damn it,” you grimaced as a searing heat began to radiate through your skin and bones. The prickling sensation quickly escalated into an intense burn, making it feel like your blood was boiling beneath your skin.

“Morgan!” you called out. “Find me an escape route, now!”

"Underestimated me?" Ivy cackled. "Thought you could resist my charms, did you?"

Morgan’s shaky voice crackled through the comms. “I’m searching for a way out! Just hang in there!”

“Oh, you won’t be escaping that easily,” Ivy sneered at you, still trapped in your webs. Despite her restraints, her vines writhed and twisted with a life of their own. “This is my domain, and you’re not leaving until I say so.”

You gritted your teeth, struggling against the searing pain as the vines inched closer. “Alright, I’m really sorry for this, but I’m done playing nice.”

With a sharp flick of your wrist, you shot a web at a vase perched precariously on a high shelf. The vase tumbled through the air and crashed down onto Ivy’s head, shattering into a shower of shards and a splash of crimson.

Ivy screamed as the shards rained down, a flurry of leaves and flowers cascading over her head and shoulders, momentarily obscuring her vision. 

Morgan's face reappeared on your visor, her brow furrowed with worry. “There’s a clear window—no vines blocking it! Hurry! I marked it on your map!”

Glancing at the map in your visor, you spotted the indicated window. 

"This was nice, but I’ve got places to be and people to save," you heaved, your voice breathy as you kicked away a lashing vine. "So if you don’t mind, I'll be taking my leave."

THWIP.

Launching yourself through the open window, you felt the cool, rain-soaked Gotham air slap your face as you soared into the night. The roar of the storm and the distant hum of the city below filled your senses. Behind you, Ivy’s furious shouts pierced through the downpour, her curses mingling with the crack of thrashing vines slamming against the walls.

“PEST!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 1:05 AM - Crime Alley, Gotham City.

"Robin, status?" Oracle's voice beeped in from Damian's earpiece.

Damian was perched on a rooftop, jade eyes scanning the dark expanse of Crime Alley below. The rain poured down in relentless sheets, the cold droplets cascading off the edges of his hood and dripping onto his shoulders.

From his vantage point, he could see the dilapidated buildings lining Crime Alley, their broken windows and graffiti-covered walls illuminated by the sporadic flashes of lightning. The streets below were deserted, the few brave souls out in the storm moving quickly, their faces obscured by umbrellas and hoods. Puddles formed in the uneven pavement, reflecting the occasional flicker of streetlights.

He lifted a gloved hand to his communication device, the wet leather squeaking slightly against the earpiece.

"I'm in my usual position," he reported, his voice steady. "No sign of activity. Just monitoring. Slow night."

"Figured," Nightwing's voice spoke up. "There is a storm."

“Ishth Gotham,” Jason's voice chimed in, muffled as if he was chewing something. “When isn’t there a storm?”

"Are you eating right now?" Tim's voice squeaked with disbelief, the sound sharp and incredulous over the comms. "Again? Really?"

"Yeah?" Jason retorted, taking another bite of whatever he was munching on. "A guy's gotta eat. Maybe if you actually ate more, you wouldn’t be so scrawny, Timberland."

"I'm fit!" Tim snapped back, voice cracking. "And can you please stop using my name? We have codenames for a reason."

"You're the genius who called yourself 'Drake'," Damian scoffed as he kept his eyes trained on the rain-soaked expanse below.

"Demon brat's got a point," Jason drawled, the sound of him slurping a drink faintly audible over the comms. "Harley still calls you Duck-Boy."

"Just focus on the job," Nightwing interjected, his voice slicing through the bickering with an authoritative edge. "Tonight’s a washout. Red Robin and I are on patrol near the docks. We’ve encountered a few low-level crooks, but nothing major."

"Alright," Oracle’s voice came through again. "Stay on high alert. Let me know if anything changes."

As the comms went silent, Damian pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up against the storm's backdrop. For a fleeting moment, his stoic expression softened. A nearly imperceptible smile tugged at his lips as he glanced at the lock screen—a picture of you, warm and content in one of his shirts, your face framed by tousled hair and a genuine smile.

He noted the time—1:05 AM. Given your unpredictable sleep patterns, you were likely still awake. Damian's finger hovered over the screen, caught between sending a quick message or making a call. But before he could decide, a sharp gust of wind swept across the rooftop, making his cape snap and sending a chill through his soaked uniform.

He slipped the phone back into his belt, shook off the cold, and refocused on the scene below. His eyes scanned the shadowy expanse: dark alleys, rain-slicked roads, and flickering, rusting shop signs.

Then, a sudden, unexpected movement shattered the monotony. A flash of red and white streaked across the skyline, its vibrant colors stark against the darkened sky. A web shot out, glinting briefly in the intermittent lightning before anchoring itself to a nearby building.

THWIP.

There was a pause.

Damian’s lips curled into a sharp snarl. His fingers tightened around the grip of his grappling gun, his mind shifting into high gear. With a scowl, he tapped his earpiece.

“Oracle,” Damian began, boots crunching as he moved to the edge of the rooftop. “I have visual on the spider vigilante. Engaging in pursuit.”

Without waiting for a reply, he fired the grappling gun. The line shot through the air with a metallic twang, slicing through the rain-soaked night. He felt the jolt as the grappling hook latched onto a distant anchor, pulling him forward.

As he swung through the storm, a fierce thrill coursed through him, like a bird unleashed with new wings. With the city sprawled out beneath him and the rain pelting against his face, Robin was ready to do what he did best.

Hunt.

 ༻⊰───⋅

"It's going to take hours to get this smell out of my suit," you heaved, wrinkling your nose as you fired a web into the distant skyline. The line stuck firmly to a building, and with a jarring lurch, you swung deeper into the city.

Morgan clung to you for dear life, her voice barely audible over the rush of air. “Not the time to worry about laundry! Focus on not crashing into something! And maybe on not dying from the poison?!”

"Hey, I’m just saying," you shot back with a strained chuckle, “if I survive this, I’m gonna need to have this suit professionally cleaned.”

Morgan’s grip tightened, and she shouted, “Survive first, clean later!"

With a yank of your web, you aimed for the next rooftop, but as you hurtled through the air, you realized that you’d miscalculated the distance. The rooftop was rushing in too fast, and panic surged through you like ice.

Your stomach lurched, and in a split-second decision, you threw Morgan forward, trying to cushion her fall. She landed with a thud, a breathless gasp escaping her as she hit the roof.

You, however, weren’t so fortunate. Your foot snagged the edge of the roof awkwardly, sending a sharp pain shooting up your leg.

CRACK.

The sickening crack of bone snapping echoed through the air as your ankle twisted violently. The force of the impact jolted your entire body, sending you sprawling onto the rough, gravelly rooftop.

“Great…” you muttered through gritted teeth, struggling to push yourself up onto your hands and knees. Your body felt like it was on fire from the inside out, the toxin’s effects amplifying the pain with each passing second.

You bit down hard on your tongue, the metallic taste of blood bubbling into your mouth. You fought to keep yourself upright, but your legs felt like lead, and you crumpled onto the rooftop, unable to fully bear your weight.

“Shit!” Morgan scrambled to her feet, her face a mask of panic and concern. “Are you okay? What happened?”

"Just… a little off target," you panted, wincing as you assessed the damage. Your visor had taken a hit during the fall, causing the data to flicker erratically. Through the static, you could still make out the crucial info: a broken bone.

“It's fine… Just a broken ankle,” you added, trying to maintain your composure despite the sluggishness creeping into your movements. 

“You’re getting brain fog and dizziness,” Morgan said urgently, her fingers flipping through the notebook she’d snatched earlier. “It’s a side effect of the toxin. We need to get you to the safehouse—”

Before she could finish, you shook your head with a groan. “No. You call a cab and head there. I’ll swing.”

“Are you insane?!” Morgan nearly shouted, grabbing your arm in panic. “You can barely stand, let alone swing through the city! We need to get you help, now!”

You pushed her away, trying to ignore the throbbing in your ankle. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. The suit’s tampered, I think. Look.”

You attempted to uncloack, but the metal sputtered and glitched erratically. “See? I can’t uncloack. If you’re seen with me, they’ll find us out in no time. I can’t risk that.”

Morgan’s eyes darted between you and the malfunctioning suit, her face a mix of worry and frustration. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I should have—”

“Stop,” you cut her off, wincing as the pain intensified. “It’s not your fault. Just get to the safehouse. I’ll manage.”

Tears of frustration welled up in Morgan’s eyes. “I can’t just leave you like this!”

“You don’t have a choice,” you said firmly, trying to steady your voice. “If we’re both caught, it’ll be worse. Now go! I’ll be fine.”

With one last, apologetic glance, Morgan pulled out her phone and dialed for a cab, her hands trembling.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Damian, concealed in the shadows of the rooftop, landed with a muted thud. He crouched behind the crumbling ledge of an old brick wall, the slits in his mask narrowing as he took in the scene unfolding just a few feet away.

He watched as you struggled to regain your footing, your movements pained and uneven. The girl beside you—her rain-soaked silhouette a blur against the storm—was clearly in a panic, her phone clutched tightly as she fumbled with it.

‘A civilian,’ Damian thought, frustration lining his features. Launching a direct attack now would be reckless. He had to be certain the vigilante was genuinely on their own before making a move.

After a tense moment, the girl finally moved and dashed down the fire escape, her figure barely visible through the downpour. Damian squinted through the sheets of rain, straining to catch a glimpse of her features, but the storm blurred his view into an indistinct smear of color and motion.

The moment she was out of sight, his attention snapped back to you. You took a deep, ragged breath, bracing yourself. Then, with a sudden burst of movement, you launched yourself into the night. 

Damian followed, his movements fluid and precise as he pushed off from the ledge. His cape billowed behind him like a dark, flowing banner, and he darted into the storm. 

Below, the streets were a chaotic blur of honking horns and glaring headlights, their harsh lights slicing through the darkness like knives. Heavy sheets of rain hammered down, obscuring your vision and drenching you to the bone. Water seeped through the cracks in your suit, each drop feeling like an icy needle against your overheated, feverish skin.

The sensations were overwhelming. It was too much. The pain, the heat, the storm—it was all too much.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, every inhale bringing more of Ivy’s insidious toxin into your lungs.

In one desperate swing, you miscalculated the web’s trajectory. It shot out too low, sending you plummeting uncontrollably below.

Cursing through gritted teeth, you were hurled down into traffic. Everything was a blur as you slammed into the side of a car, metal denting and screams deafening your ears. Your shoulder bore the brunt of the collision, sending shockwaves of pain through your bones.

For a brief, suspended moment, everything went dark.

A cold, mechanical voice sliced through the void, its tone harsh and insistent. Maggie’s synthetic voice, though devoid of human warmth, was tinged with urgency.

“Immediate response required. Vitals are critically low. Consciousness levels decreasing. Current status is life-threatening. Please respond.”

Abruptly, your senses snapped back into sharp focus. You jolted awake with a ragged gasp, your breath coming in frantic bursts. Your vision was a fractured mosaic of blinding lights and shadowy figures. The sounds of blaring horns and panicked shouts crashed back into your ears, tires screeching all around you.

Morgan’s voice crackled through the static, panic evident in her tone. “I’m at the safehouse! Where are you? I couldn't reach you! What’s going on?”

“Change of plans,” you managed, your voice strained. “I won’t make it to the safehouse in time.”

You tapped the side of your visor, making a map flicker to life through the cracks and glitches. The display was unstable, but it highlighted a route to your apartment.

“You know where my mom's apartment is, right?” you heaved. “That’s where I’m heading.”

Entering your apartment was risky, but with your condition worsening and death looming, it was the closest refuge you could manage.

Damian, hidden in the alleyway, watched you with a furrowed brow. What he initially wrote off as rookie mistakes now seemed out of character. Your disoriented movements were starkly different from the precise maneuvers he had seen in news footage and CCTV feeds. He had been tracking your case closely, and this chaos didn't match the profile he had built.

He watched as you struggled to stand, your legs shaking with each attempt. The driver's shouts were drowned out by the storm of noise around you. Your strained apologies were barely audible. Desperation marked your actions as you fired another web, using it to pull yourself up and away from the wrecked car and the angry crowd.

Damian cursed under his breath and quickly took off after you. 

He tracked your erratic path through twisted, narrow streets until he saw you aim for an apartment building. With a quick stretch of your arm, you shot a web toward a balcony, but your aim was off again.

Another sloppily thrown web sent you slamming into the windows of the apartment. The metal edge dug into your ribs with brutal force, knocking the wind out of you. You gasped, your lungs burning as you struggled to draw in air. Pain radiated from your side, and shards of glass sprayed everywhere.

Damian, perched on the rooftop across the street, stared in disbelief. This was Catwoman’s apartment—Selina Kyle’s. The worst possible scenario unfolded in his mind. To him, it looked like a break-in. His jaw clenched tightly, and his fingers gripped the edge of his grappling gun, knuckles whitening with the force of his anger.

Pest.

Without hesitation, Damian leapt into action. He aimed for the fire escape with single-minded intensity, propelling himself toward it with a powerful thrust. His boots hammered against the metal steps, causing them to buckle and the entire structure to groan and rattle under the force of his descent. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw your figure slip into the window.

Tunnel-visioned and driven by a surge of protectiveness, Damian kicked the door to the fire escape open, the metal panel scraping roughly across the floor. His father would have his head for causing unnecessary public damage—something Robin was frequently under fire for—but at that moment, he couldn't have cared less.

"Was that a crash?!" Nightwing's voice crackled through the comm line.

"I think it's coming from demon brat's side. What's the report, squirt?"

Damian merely growled in response as he began to stalk down the hallway. His tall figure, cloaked in shadows, cast long, dark lines across the floor as he moved. He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp and menacing over the comms.

"Someone's about to learn the price of crossing me."

 ༻⊰───⋅

Dazed and disoriented, you slipped into the building, the rough edge of the window scraping against your battered body. As you tumbled through your apartment, you hit the floor with a heavy thud, the impact shaking your entire frame. Your head struck the ground with a thump, stars exploding in your vision.

For a brief, haunting moment, there was silence—deep, oppressive silence. Then, a cold, creeping dread slithered through you.

You clawed at the floor, your body shaking.

"Mom? Mom, please! I need you!" Your voice cracked, a raw, fear seeping through every syllable. "Mom, are you there? Please, help me!"

Tears streamed down your face, mingling with the sweat and blood as you cried out into the empty, echoing apartment. The lights were off, casting the space into a suffocating darkness that seemed to press in on you.

Desperately, you stumbled into Selina’s bedroom. Your heart sank as you noticed the absence of her suit—no sleek, black leather or whip. She must have been out on patrol.

A deafening crash shattered the silence as the apartment door was ripped from its hinges. Before you could fully react, a rough hand clamped down on you, throwing you to the floor.

Your vision blurred in and out of focus as you were pinned to the floor. A heavy foot pressed mercilessly against your chest, crushing your ribs with every breath. The weight lifted, then slammed down again, ripping through your suit with a sickening crunch. The suit uncloaked, its torn pieces clinging to your clothes, leaving you exposed in just your undershirt and pants.

Through the dim, flickering light, the outline of your attacker became clearer. A katana was unsheathed with a chilling rasp, its cold blade pressed menacingly against your neck. The steel gleamed ominously, catching the sparse light and reflecting a deadly shimmer. The edge was so close you could feel its icy touch, a mere breath away from slicing into your flesh.

The thought of that forced you to tilt your head back, exposing more of your neck to the shadowy figure looming over you.

Tall and imposing, the figure was clad in grey and black armor, with a black cape flowing behind them. A red emblem, unmistakably the symbol of an R, was stitched onto their chest.

A cold realization cut through the fog of pain and fear—Robin?

<- PREVIOUS | NEXT ->

 ༻⊰───⋅

dundunDUN

whatchu think bookiebears

surely the batfam will handle this well

[annarobszombies]

The Early Days

StanXeno x Fem!Reader as high school friends turned lovers.

I have no regrets

Content warning: bullying, harassment, mild violence, smoking, suggestive

"Oh my God, have you seen the new girl?" It's almost cliche, the way the group of girls giggle over the latest hot school gossip.

"Right? I mean, come on with that outfit!"

They quiet when Stanley walks by, giggling for a whole new reason now. One girl twirls her hair around her finger, batting her eyelashes, but he just keeps moving. He had no interest in people like that, but that only seems to make them swoon over him more once he passes.

He makes a hard left, the school chemistry lab just ahead, with Xeno likely already inside.

"Yo," He says, throwing the door open. Several other science club students startle, but Xeno doesn't budge. He stands calmly, carefully mixing chemicals and noting the reactions.

"Stanley," Xeno says. "You made it."

"Uh-huh." Stanley kicks out a chair from a nearby table and drops himself into it.

The lab returns to its quiet bustle, the other students focusing again on their experiments and reports. Stanley idly glances around the room, watching each and every one of them for a moment before letting his gaze settle on Xeno.

Xeno's eyebrows are knitted tightly, his eyes entirely focused on the delicate chemicals. His gaze never wavers, his attention never strays.

"You see the new student today?" Stanley asks once he finally gets bored of watching Xeno drop one chemical into another at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"Indeed. She and I share our third period computer science class together," Xeno says, voice soft as if he worried being too loud could ruin his experiment.

"Mm."

"And you, Stanley?"

"American Lit. Fifth period. She sits next to me."

"How lucky for her."

Stanley chuckles and rolls his eyes. He tucks his hands into his jacket pockets, toying with the lighter he hid within one of them. He was itching for a smoke, but the last time he got caught on campus he was threatened with suspension, which he couldn't afford right now.

The two fall once again into silence, but that wasn't uncommon. They'd known each other for so long that they rarely needed to talk too much about little nothings anymore. At most, Xeno may make a few idle comments about whatever he was testing, but any real conversation would likely wait until they were in Stanley's car on the way home.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Um..."

Xeno's eyes lift, finding the source of the voice standing in front of him, anxiously gripping a notebook.

"Yes?" He asks. You shift your weight from foot to foot, the tips of your ears a cute pink.

"The teacher...said to work with a partner on the, uh, project she assigned?" You say it like a question, as if you weren't totally sure you were correct in what you'd been told.

"Ah, did she? I apologize, I wasn't listening." It was a lie, of course, he'd heard the instructions perfectly clearly. He was used to working mostly alone, so he was a bit surprised that you had approached him.

"Do...do you mind?" You ask, cheeks turning pink now. He can hear the sounds of some other girls giggling, the weight of their stares heavy on his shoulders. So, you'd been denied by everyone else, it seems.

"Of course not," He says, gesturing for you to take a seat by him. You let out a relieved sigh, grabbing a chair from a nearby desk and settling it across from him, gingerly setting your notebook down on the top of his desk. "We haven't yet met officially, my name is Xeno."

You tell him your name, smiling sheepishly when he repeats it carefully back to you.

"I look forward to working with you."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You dust your hands over your shirt, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Xeno had said to meet him in his club's classroom after school so that the two of you could go home together and work on your project, but you couldn't help feeling nervous.

Making friends in this new school had been really difficult, but he had been very nice to you the past few days, so you felt hopeful that you might be able to come out of this assignment with someone you could continue to talk to and maybe hang out with on weekends. But that relied on you not totally fucking this up and making him hate you on accident.

You start to reach for the door, jumping a little when it swings open from the inside.

"Oh," The young man who looks down at you is downright stunning. You'd seen him before, of course, he was your desk neighbor in your American Literature class. But this was the first time you'd heard his voice, the first time he'd actually paid you any attention. "Hey."

"Hi," You say softly. "I'm...looking for Xeno?"

"Inside," He says, brushing by you and heading down the hall, hands stuffed in his leather jacket pockets. He didn't strike you as the kind of person to be in the science club, but anything was possible.

Stepping inside the room, it's exactly what you expected. There are are several students inside, some in groups while some worked individually. Xeno stood at a desk in the front right corner, his back to you as you walk further in. He turns to glance at you when you softly call his name upon approach, offering you a kind smile.

"Give me one moment to finish this and we will leave shortly," He says, waving for you to come closer and sit in the chair that rested at his side. You decide to work on some homework while you wait, carefully balancing both a textbook and your notebook on your lap.

It takes about an hour for Xeno to finish what he's working on and clean his station, but soon enough he's giving you a gentle nudge and telling you it was time to go. He smiles when you scramble to pack your things up and throw your backpack over your shoulders.

"My friend Stanley will be driving us," He says, leading you from the room. "I hope you don't mind, he'll be sticking around for the rest of the day."

"That's fine!" You say, perhaps a little too eagerly. Xeno smiles again at you.

"Excellent," He says. You follow him through the halls, pausing at his locker long enough for him to transfer a few items to and from his bag, then out into the parking lot. He walks slightly ahead of you once you exit the doors, his pace picking up the moment you both hit fresh air.

He pauses at the edge of the sidewalk where parents would pick up students who didn't drive yet or ride the bus, but the two of you only wait about a minute and a half before a car whips around, stopping just in front of you. The passenger window slides down, and in the driver's seat, you see the beautiful boy from earlier leaning over the middle console to look at the two of you.

"Get in," He says. You note the cigarette between his teeth, wondering now if that was the reason he'd left in such a hurry.

Xeno opens the back door to deposit his bag, taking yours from you to do the same before telling you to sit up front.

"Don't worry," He says when you hesitate. "Stan doesn't bite."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stanley Snyder does, in fact, bite. He just doesn't bare his teeth until he has to.

You get comfortable around him pretty quickly, which seems to drive every girl in the school totally insane. Not that you could blame them, Stanley was objectively beautiful and ignored just about everyone.

On a typical day, he's calm-if not a bit lazy-and generally collected. He sticks close to Xeno, which means that as you and the young scientist get closer, he begins sticking to you as well. He talks to you in class now, leaning over to mumble bad jokes that make you laugh too hard to be ignored by the teacher.

But today was not your typical day.

You'd been on you way to meet Xeno and Stanley for your after school hangout and homework time, when you were cornered by a senior guy by your locker. He'd leaned against the lockers, grinning and proud at the way you startled at the sight of him. You tied to go around, but he moved to purposefully block you, keeping himself in front of you so that you couldn't break and run.

"I just wanna talk to you," He says.

"I really don't want to talk to you," You say, trying to scoot around him, only to fail yet again. You were getting frustrated and a little scared. Xeno and Stanley were waiting for you, you didn't want them to leave you behind just because some asshole wanted to make himself feel big.

"C'mon, you hang out with that science club freak and his pretty faced boytoy all the time, why don't you spend your day with someone else, huh?" He asks, reaching to make a grab for you. His words make you flush a bit in anger. Sure, you knew Stanley and Xeno were something (they weren't exactly subtle), but to have it thrown at your face as if it's a bad thing made you absolutely livid.

Who was this guy to talk about your friends that way? He didn't know them! How dare he!

"Don't talk about them like that!" You snap, just barely too slow to avoid the hand that clasps around your forearm. The boy in front of you scowls, his grip on your arm tightening to a bruising hold.

"Come hang with me, and I'll show you what a real man is," He sneers, making your face flush even hotter.

"I said no!"

"Don't be such a little prude-"

What happens next happens so fast that it takes far longer than it should for you to process. The boy holding to you is jerked backwards hard enough to force him to release you, though you also stumble forward a few steps at the sudden movement. Then, before you can blink, Stanley has him slammed into the floor. He stands over him, frighteningly calm despite the hard glare his golden eyes burn into your harasser.

"Pretty sure when a lady tells you no, you're supposed to back the fuck off," Stanley hisses, his voice dripping with sarcasm and anger.

You can't help jumping a little when those sharp eyes flit up to look at you, though you note how they soften at the sight of you're slightly shaking figure.

"You alright?" He asks. You nod quickly.

"Y-yeah, I'm good. Can we go?" You ask, taking a tentative step towards him.

"Course we can," He says, stepping back from the other boy and lifting an arm for you to tuck yourself under. He holds you against his side, escorting you without further issue outside to where Xeno had been left waiting.

You don't question where he goes after he and Xeno discover the hand-shaped bruise on your arm, nor do you question why that same boy comes to school several days later with two broken hands and a black eye.

Something inside you already knows that Stanley did it for you.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your relationship shifts suddenly one night after graduation.

The three of you are in your room, Xeno leaning against your pillows with a book in his hand while you sit in the middle of you bed, makeup strewn around you, and Stanley sits on the edge, leaned forward so you can paint his face as you see fit.

"Open," You say. Stanley huffs in amusement, parting his lips so that you can press the lipstick against his waiting mouth, swiping your favorite deep purple across his surprisingly soft looking lips.

"Now rub."

He hums, doing as instructed. You pick up a little pocket mirror and open it, handing it to him so that he can look at your handiwork.

"Not bad," He says, turning his head left and right to fully inspect his new face.

"The dark lips suit you, Stan," Xeno says, peering over his book to take a look for himself, earning an amused hum from Stanley.

Its in this moment that you realize how close Stanley had gotten. His face mere inches from yours, eyes heavy with...something. Something heavy, something wanting. It makes you flush and shuffle backwards on instinct alone.

Stanley follows, crawling after you, backing you up even further. He doesn't stop until you're literally in Xeno's lap, the other young man letting out a noise of annoyance and frustration.

"Must we do this now?" Xeno asks, letting his book fall to his side, his arms wrapping around your middle as if to guard you from Stanley, who pouts. It was always quite the sight to see, when his lower lip stuck out and his eyebrows furrowed like that.

"Don't act all innocent right now, Xee," Stanley says, smirking when both he and you notice that one of Xeno's hands has snuck under the hem of your shirt, his fingertips gingerly brushing over the soft skin of your side.

Your whole body feels warm, heart hammering in your chest. Weren't they partners? What was happening right now?

Stanley creeps closer, effectively sandwiching you between the two.

"Hey," He says, voice low. "Wanna make out?" His question flusters you just as much as Xeno's continuing touch. It felt so out of character for him, yet he still sounded so like himself.

You must nod, or agree in some other way, because before you know it, Stanley's lips are on yours, smearing his freshly done lipstick all over you. His tongue ends up in your mouth, and you suddenly become very aware of how much more experience he has.

He pulls back slightly, lips drifting from yours to press kisses to your cheeks and jaw while you pant softly. Both of Xeno's hands are up your shirt now, his wicked fingers making you shiver.

"What's the verdict?" Xeno murmus, pressing his own lips the soft spot between your neck and shoulder.

"Perfect," Stanley hums, sinking his teeth into your other shoulder, kissing the spot when you wince.

"Quite the conclusion you've come to," Xeno says, one hand sliding from your torso to your chin, turning your head as far as it would comfortably go to look back at him. "I think I'd like to give my own opinion, if I may."

"Okay," You breathe, drunk on all the attention.

Xeno's kiss is slower, more exploratory. He doesn't devour you, like Stanley had, but that doesn't change how good it was.

Both of them kissed you like they wanted you, like they'd wanted you for a while, and by the time the night ends, all three of you are covered in lipstick.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for belconna behind the cut; “Damian gets a Pocket”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

The rest of the school day passes uneventfully. Damian takes a math test and completes a science lab and turns in an English paper and draws several studies in art class and still does not encounter Beloved’s point of origin, and remains unsurprised. He did not expect to, after all. 

Beloved’s point of origin needs Robin; not Damian Wayne. 

And certainly not Damian al-Ghul. 

Beloved remains concealed for the duration of the day, and after classes conclude, Pennyworth picks Damian–picks them up, Damian supposes. Though it is not an occurrence that he will have cause to become used to, so it hardly matters. 

Or rather, it is–unnecessary, again. 

Obviously. 

Damian submits a request for a detour in their standard route. Pennyworth acquiesces. Damian continues to not understand the unneeded additional steps in a process that could be accomplished with a single order, but Father’s household is hardly as efficient as Damian had once assumed it must be. Unfortunately, a lack of efficiency does not change the standards of behavior currently in place, nor the manners considered appropriate, and so Damian currently must be “polite” by Father’s standards by wasting both his and Pennyworth’s time and energy. 

Damian does not comprehend how wasting finite resources and creating unneeded distractions can be considered polite by any standards whatsoever, but Father has proven to be uninterested in outside opinions of his household’s behaviors. When Damian has previously made requests of various household members to be presented with the logic behind Father’s standards and the application thereof, he has typically been addressed as if he is being deliberately difficult or purposefully misunderstanding, and the requested explanation is is either not provided or is delivered in unclear terms that do not, in fact, present any form of explanation. 

Damian has since moved on to independent research, given the subpar quality of available intel. His research has yet to yield any reasonable explanation of Father’s “polite” inefficiency either, but it is less irritating a process and he is confident in his ability to eventually deduce one. 

Though that is also a waste of time and energy, if again an unfortunately unavoidable one. 

The detour is to a small mid-end shop, its wares largely generic and inexpensive but generally acceptable. It specializes in Pocket-appropriate goods and services. Pockets of course have no true material “needs”, in the sense that they do not require food or water or environmentally-suitable clothing or protection; do not even require medical care or armor. They cannot starve or dehydrate or be injured, even by other Pockets. 

Yet Beloved showed up looking bruised and hungry all the same, and even if he had not . . . 

Damian would best arrange for his comfort either way, though he is certain Father will not approve of the indulgence. The . . . distraction. 

It is only temporary, so it will not matter, Damian tells himself. 

It will not. 

He uses the personal discretionary funds that Father refers to as his “allowance” to purchase a basic supply set of the sort that is traditionally exchanged between newly-recognized soulmates in several cultures, though most certainly not in the League. The practice is old-fashioned in America, but logical in Damian’s eyes as a provided demonstration of shared investment in the developed bond, and proof of both capability and willingness to provide. Typically Pockets manifest after the relevant soulmates have known each other for some time, so it is a natural enough method to display such investment and ability, in his opinion. 

Using his personal discretionary funds for this effort will, Damian presumes, at least make Father less disapproving of the indulgence. Father has attempted to encourage him to purchase other indulgent things with it, after all. Damian has not yet deduced which specific indulgences Father will consider to be acceptable, but the fact that he is making an effort to purchase something that qualifies as one may make Father less disapproving of just which one it is. 

That is not likely, but at least referring to Father’s previous statements is a reasoning that Damian can present if questioned. 

He cannot imagine Beloved’s point of origin being in a situation where he could perform the traditional exchange of supply sets, but it remains . . . unnecessary. Damian’s “allowance” is more than sufficient to provide for Beloved. 

He momentarily considered the appropriateness of purchasing a matched pair of supply sets, but . . . 

It is unnecessary. Whatever Pocket manifested from . . . him would have no need of nor desire for such supplies, and therefore Beloved’s point of origin need not supply them. Such a set would only prove an inconvenience to one clearly in a compromised position in life and likely unstable housing, either way. There is no purpose in Damian burdening his soulmate with such inconveniences. 

The Pocket will not last either way, and so it would be–disingenuous, Damian thinks, to present Beloved’s point of origin with such an item. 

Or more accurately it would be . . . unfair, perhaps, when their Pockets will only be temporary. Likely a civilian would have expectations upon manifesting a Pocket; expectations that Damian could not fulfill for them. Expectations that they would likely be–disappointed, to not see met. So it would be disrespectful to waste their time in such a fashion as pretending otherwise. 

Father can insist that he waste Pennyworth’s time, if that is his preference, but Beloved’s point of origin is . . . not of concern to Father. Beloved will only be a temporary presence, so nothing about his presence need be any concern of Father’s. 

Damian will handle the situation in the way that he is required to–Robin will handle the situation in the way that he is required to–and that is all. 

Beloved remains concealed for the duration of Damian’s time in the shop as well. He did not hide from Pennyworth or Drake in the manor, nor hide from Pennyworth in the towncar, but the school and shop both he kept himself hidden for. Damian observes and notes the information–recalls that he revealed Beloved to Drake deliberately after hiding him himself, and that Drake has Pockets of his own–but is less certain of why Pennyworth was an exception. 

. . . it may have been the drop scones, Damian reflects resignedly, and finds it outright depressing that Beloved came out for drop scones, of all things.