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hazelfoureyes · 7 months

Text

The Safeword is RadioApple (part 1)

I’m gonna go ahead and apologize right now

Lucifer x FemaleReader x Alastor

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins⟡Alastor Wins

Alastor would give you anything, all you had to do was ask. When you asked for Lucifer, he delivered. But after seeing just how much you enjoyed Alastor’s rough handling, Lucifer takes a turn and gets a little lost in the pleasure.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, smut, RadioApple in a sense, fem reader, creampie, breath play, rough sex, Alastor is an eternal little shit, soft jazz, hard jazz, Luci calls himself Daddy, 🗣️ READER GETS SPITROASTED, threesome, cervix hulk smashed, half assed blowjob, help I got too horny on main

Minors dni

“Sir.”

Lucifer jumped, whipping around and shoving Alastor’s face away. “You are a living nightmare, fuck!” He hated being snuck up on, as most people do. Adjusting his hat, he looked around the hotel lobby to see if anyone else witnessed his personal jump scare. Charlie and Vaggie were seated nearby, but hadn’t paid them any attention.

“I aim to please! Now,” Alastor gestured to the stairs, “I, unfortunately, need to show you something upstairs.”

“Ha!” Lucifer forced out a laugh, “Ha. Haaa- Not a chance, scarecrow. Find someone else to search for your brain.” He smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie? I made a joke.”

But Charlie was not laughing. She finally turned her focus to them. “Dad, you have to start trying to get along with Alastor.” She looked to Alastor who was nodding along as if he actually cared at all, “He’s trying to spend time with you. Come on, Dad. For me?”

With a pout, he dramatically crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll play nice, for you. Not for him.” Lucifer glared daggers at Alastor. “Fuck him.”

“Daaad!” She groaned.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.”

Alastor let his microphone follow behind Lucifer’s back, an unseen and unfelt safety net so he couldn’t back out. When they approached Alastor’s door, Lucifer put up his hands as if to physically stop the situation from progressing, “There is no way in all of hell I am going in your bedroom.”

Alastor’s eyes rolled, frustrated already with the interaction. “Are you sure about that?” He pushed the door open, using his mic to make contact with the small of Lucifer’s back. He stopped resisting when he finally looked into the room.

He took a step in, willingly, and as he saw you sitting in the center of the bed in just your silk sleep robe, he let out a quiet, “What the fuck is this?”

Then a louder, “Heeey, kitten…”. The sound of the door locking made his head whip back to Alastor, teeth bared.

“Luci.”

Softened under the sound of his own name from your lips he brought his attention back to the bed.

It was no secret to anyone that you two were fond of each other. It was the little things you did that endeared the fallen angel to you, how you doted on him. Filling his glass at dinner when you noticed it getting close to empty, holding the door for him, keeping eye contact when he went off on some excited tangent.

Everyone was also aware you were Alastor’s person. And Alastor would give you anything you wanted in death; and today you happened to want Luci.

You’d seen the broadcasts of the King of Hell defending his daughter during the last extermination. The power he gave off, even from your screen, brought goosebumps down your arms. So when you found your way to the hotel, you were elated to see Lucifer himself readily available for interactions. Your luck continued, as your father’s love of jazz had been passed down to you and allowed the radio demon to notice your presence among the sea of new residents. Following the sounds of Nat ‘King’ Cole, he found you one evening in your room, and a mutual fondness for music bore a new friend. And then, more.

Soon enough you were a regular member of the Hazbin Hotel core crew, by way of Alastor.

That’d been some months ago now, and you finally had the courage to ask Alastor for a special favor.

No part of him understood your motivation, but the idea of making the king of hell pussy-whipped to his darling was understanding enough. And, of course, the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. While he was capable all his own, he was happy to allow someone else to fill in. Not to mention—- no, actually, definitely mention the fact it would give him a little more power in the tense dynamic between himself and Lucifer.

For Alastor, sharing you physically wasn’t an issue. Sex was something he did for your pleasure, though he did enjoy the control he held over you in those intimate moments.

Watching you mewl under someone else, knowing he gave the permission, that Lucifer would never have a chance in Hell if The Radio Demon didn't allow it, made his head dizzy with the loss of blood flow. Whatever pleasure Lucifer could give you was pleasure he has granted you both. The idea of someone pining for you but never having a chance unless he says so made him feel powerful.

“I have a request, of sorts.” You tried to keep your smile still, cheeks twitching with pure nerves. The room was lit by only two small lamps on either nightstand and the light coming from the half open bathroom.

Lucifer approached you, making a dramatic point of going past Alastor. The radio demon chuckled, the king of hell scowled. He placed one knee on the end of the bed, trying to forget this was the spot you shared most nights with Alastor. His smile encouraged you to continue.

“You can say no.” You added quickly.

“Why would I ever do that?” Lucifer continued to smile at you, too sweetly for what you were going to ask.

“Many reasons.” You added quicker.

“Come on, tell Luci.” He laughed softly at the idea of denying you anything.

You pressed the tips of your index fingers together nervously, “I want you to fuck me.”

He tried to blink but his eyelids only seemed to rise further and further up his face with every attempt.

“You what now?”

His eyes darted to Alastor, who was now crawling onto the bed and settling behind you.

“It was a fairly straightforward statement, sir.” Alastor’s tone was always teetering on mocking when he addressed Lucifer, “My dear would like you, for some god awful reason, to bed her.”

If this hadn’t been such a shock, Lucifer would have quipped, “Oh because you can’t, you overdressed maitre d’?”

But when he opened his mouth, there was nothing. He just stared at you. Alastor’s long legs and lanky arms came down beside you, behind you. You looked like the enticing light of an angler fish’s lure, sharp teeth shining just over your shoulder.

“I thought-,” he motioned between the two of you.

You nodded, “Alastor is happy when I’m happy. And right now, I’d be overjoyed to spend an evening taking care of you.”

Oh, why couldn’t you have said it so sweetly the first time? Take care of him? You always did. Every time he felt something lacking he’d find you close behind offering him just the thing.

Whether a smile, or supportive word, or just a sympathetic ear.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawled toward Lucifer. His face was flush, his brows knitted together in some mix of worry and confusion.

“You don’t have to do that, kitten. I don’t need that.” He reached out a hand to touch your cheek but stopped himself; he’d never touched you before. He had gone out of his way to avoid it, because he couldn’t bear what it would do to him. He’d just be hurting himself, he had thought. His hand began to pull away but you reached out with both of yours and took hold of his wrist.

“I don’t have to do anything, ever, Luci,” Alastor’s grin widened as you said it. A hum of approval only he could hear. A silent, ‘That’s my girl.’

“This is about what I want.” You leaned up to rest your cheek in his open palm, “I’ll accept any answer from you.” Your eyes staring up at him promised safety, “So, what do you want?”

He buried his face in his free hand, opening his fingers to look over you once more. In the shade of the canopied bed, Alastor sat motionless. But Lucifer couldn’t see him, not because of the shadows but because his focus was so purely on you. He had absolute tunnel vision, which happened often when you two would speak. Lucifer made a low sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest, hidden beneath all his shame and sense of inadequacy.

Your question was answered as he removed his hat, tossing it to the chaise lounge near the wall. You sat back on your legs and gave him space to remove his coat. Your heart seemed to double its pace, skin practically vibrating. A not-insignificant part of you expected a gentle but firm, “kindly fuck off.”

He seemed to be avoiding eye contact as he pulled his bow tie loose, only returning his knee to the bed when he’d kicked off his boots. Just the shifting of the weight of the bed made your thighs twitch, finally. Alastor leaned backed and watched, Lucifer’s gaze was full of uncertainty as he crawled to you.

Hilarious. Already worth the price of admission.

Both on your knees, you leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on Lucifer’s lips. Pulling back, you looked at him and he felt like we’re looking at the sun. Your face was so bright, and warm. What light were you reflecting back at him? Surely not his own. That was long dead. Long buried under bruised wings and lost promises.

You snaked your fingers into his hair and brought him in for a deeper kiss. When you bit gently on his bottom lip, he shakily opened his mouth. Your grin spread across both of your faces as you pushed your way past his lips.

Lucifer’s tongue was long, and tapered more than you’d expected. It moved, unsure, against yours. Your hands slunk out of his hair and down his chest, sliding until finding the buttons of his vest.

You felt him gasp into you, and when you began to open his shirt he pulled away, “It’s been… a very long time.”

A scream echoed in your skulll, your own scream, thankfully entirely in your mind. He was so cute. So soft. He looked so worried, you wanted to rip him to pieces with affection. Was that possible? You were going to try.

Your hands fumbled over his belt, the tremble in your fingers making the pants button feel like an aptitude test. Your mouth returned to him, kissing down his cheeks and into the space under his jaw. Finally you could slip your hand down into his pants, and you hissed without thinking.

He was painfully hard, throbbing head pressed into his skin.

Did you do this? Had you gotten the King like this with just a question and a kiss? Tip nearly purple with pressure, you rested your forehead on his collarbone and watched his stomach jump as you wrapped your fingers around it.

Alastor fought back a laugh, tongue nearly cut clean off with the attempt. This was better than he had expected. And he had just the idea to push it over the top.

When your head dipped to swipe your tongue over Lucifer’s cock, you both startled at the sudden sound of music. First you looked to the radio, then to Alastor.

One hand was loosening his bow tie, the other unbuckling his pants.

“Don’t stop on my accord,” he bit his bottom lip, watching your attention return to Lucifer’s lap.

Lucifer raised a finger in protest, “I wasn’t aware this was a group activity.”

“The more the merrier.” Alastor whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor, other hand pulling his member free.

“Three’s a crowd.”

“Two heads are better than one.” When Alastor lifted your robe away and sunk himself into you, no preparation, you moaned into the blonde hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock.

Your breath over his shaft and now down his balls made his hips buck against you. Your hands gripped at Lucifer’s thighs, trying to get steady enough to return your mouth to his waiting heat. You could smell his arousal, your head dizzy with so many of your senses being assaulted by both men.

“You okay, kitten?” A concerned hand came to your cheek.

Your watery, lust clouded eyes met his, “It feels so good, Luci.” His dick jerked. When you finally managed to get him in your mouth his head fell back, legs under him twitching with the need to move along to the bobbing of your head. Lucifer was wider than Alastor, the corners of your mouth burning as you tried to take in as much of him as possible.

Alastor’s hand raked long nails down your back, a whine ran from your throat and down Lucifer’s shaft. He moaned in turn, trying to not connect the dots between himself and Alastor.

“I think you may need a little demonstration, from someone more–, “ Alastor leaned down, his face now inches from Lucifer’s. His hand wrapped around your neck, “experienced.” He pulled you up by your throat.

Lucifer watched, your knees no longer touching the bed as Alastor fucked up into you. One hand gripping your throat, one arm holding your body against his. Your face began to redden, and your thighs noticeably clenching as best they could, legs open and feet on either side of Alastor’s body. Lucifer winced, you looked pained, he wanted—

“Aa--Alastor,” Your voice was like honey, thick and sweet around Alastor’s name. Lucifer’s face fell flat, how could he have that? What did he need to do to have you say his name in such a debauched way? Why did that gangly sack of bones get all of the fun?

“See? She can handle more than you’d expect.” Alastor grinned, planting a kiss on your neck. You could see Lucifer watching through your wet eyelashes, his cock twitching repeatedly as his hand finally came down to touch himself.

With the hand not holding onto Alastor’s wrist at your throat, you reached out for Lucifer. “Luci.”

Alastor let you fall forward. Keeping your hips in the air and knees dangling just above the comforter, he continued his rough pace into your sopping cunt. Pulling your body on and off of his length with harsh drags he watched you lick from the base to the top of Lucifer’s member. Each thrust from him knocking your chin against it.

When you popped the head back into your mouth and moaned around it from Alastor’s continued fucking, Lucifer gripped your hair with both hands. Alastor’s own erection jumped in you, the king of hell himself buckling from his dearest’s mouth. He could break him entirely by just pulling you off of Lucifer’s cock and refusing to return you. He was positive Lucifer would cry into his ruined orgasm if he did such a thing.

Tempting.

But, he promised to play along, for you. And he would, at his own terms.

He pushed aside the thought entirely, instead returning to the task in front of him. Your tongue was pinned down when Lucifer was in your mouth, cock too fat to allow any room for movement. You abandoned trying to suck him off, and changed tactics to lick and kiss the sensitive flesh in your hands.

Lucifer’s mind was—- he wasn't sure where exactly. His consciousness splintered around you. The feeling of you; your tongue was swirling around him, the first contact he’s had other than himself in literal years. The sound of you; your soft moans and huffs were both audible and physical, the hot breath ghosting over him. The sight of you; head in his lap as he leaned back, your ass in the air and making a satisfying slapping noise every time–

Alastor. His eyes met Lucifer’s and a wicked grin took hold of his features. Lucifer could practically hear Alastor whisper across your body, ‘Watch this.’ Maybe Alastor had thought it, but he kept it to himself.

Your hands began pumping Lucifer’s length while your body was slightly dragged away as Alastor backed up and let your knees find some solid ground again.

Lucifer sat on his legs still, eyes flitting from between your face to the place you and Alastor connected. He could see Alastor disappearing inside you, and every intrusion had you gasping and mewling into the blankets. Your hand was still gently stroking him with outstretched arms, eyes clenched close.

Alastor smirked up at Lucifer, coming down over your back to reach around your body and find your clit with his middle finger. Immediately, you reacted. Legs squeezing together, hands stilling around your king’s cock. With a bite and lick to your shoulder blade, the radio demon set a bruising pace against you. That warmth in your core was spreading down as you felt him press against your cervix with every kiss of his hips.

You choked out his name, a chant Lucifer had never wanted to hear before now. How could you make Alastor’s name sound so delicious? He wrapped his fingers around yours on his dick and began moving with you. Your eyes rolled up to him, a weak smile forming before your orgasm made your jaw lock. Alastor knew your body so well, bringing you to orgasm was like playing a well practiced song on the piano. Both required strong and fast fingers and a sense of rhythm.

With a few more deeper, shorter moves Alastor stilled, too. Your knees slid down as your hips sank into the bed.

Lucifer let your hand go limp, swallowing hard. He wasn’t ignorant to the way Alastor smiled at him as he reclined into the headboard, tucking himself back into his pants.

“I have complete faith in you, for once.” Alastor teased Lucifer, hand motioning to your still limp body. His smile seemed to dare Lucifer, challenge him, to keep going even with Alastor’s release sitting pretty in you.

Luci took a deep breath, steadying himself mentally, before pushing the hair from your forehead, “Hey there, kitten. What do ya need?”

With an uncharacteristic hunger in your eyes, you forced your line of sight up to him, “You, Luci.” Visibly shuddering, you sat up and brought your legs towards him, your knees touching each other in an odd display of shyness. Your hand felt at your entrance, Alastor’s seed just beginning to find its way from your relaxed walls.

“Is it okay?” You asked, spreading the thick fluid between your fingers in front of Luci.

Something between a grimace and a pout came over him, it wasn’t his ideal situation but the idea of — just how much he’d slip and slide between your folds with the added lubrication made him feel feral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Alastor hoped to ruin you and sour his experience. He decided to not allow it.

With a kiss to his nose, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lied back. You weren’t sure you were breathing anymore when you felt his scorching head slot up with your entrance. He rubbed the leaking fluid over himself and you with swipes up and down your lips. The difference between his heat and the cooled cum made him shiver in turn.

As he began to press into you, your body instinctively scooted away. It took both of your hands hooked under his arms to stay still enough for him to make any real headway.

Luci stopped, your face clearly pained. Your head shook in response, “Please, you just have to keep going. I’ll adjust.” While both of his heads swelled with pride – Alastor’s cock clearly smaller – Luci didn’t notice the wild eyes of the radio demon.

Alastor brought a hand to his face, red eyes peering between his spread fingers, smile threatening to break at the seams as he watched Lucifer Morningstar fucking his cum into his darling doe.

What a pitiful sight. How humiliating.

What would Charlie think of her big bad daddy? What would the other sins say? If they could see their king now, slick and shiny?

Your nails cut into his skin, and you were sure you were tearing slightly. Instead of attempting to thrust his way in, he chose to just continually press. The way your body seemed to be splitting made you second guess your decisions. But when his head finally popped in, your hole got some reprieve. He stopped, taking deep breaths.

Tears were collecting on your waterline, Luci noticed and leaned on an elbow to wipe them away. His blonde hair was falling forward now, tickling at your forehead.

You nodded, answering a question he didn’t ask, and he continued to force your walls open to accommodate him. The only sound in the room was the soft instrumental jazz number playing from atop the dresser. Your voice was stuck in your throat, Luci was focusing too hard to form words. Alastor could speak, but the music was just too enjoyable to interrupt.

Finally, after what could have been two minutes or twenty, you felt Luci bottom out. You had to just lie there for a second, never having felt something so solid in your otherwise soft body. No slight to Alastor, who was perfectly skilled in his abilities. Luci was just—- more than you had expected.

As he pulled out, you thanked the heavens and hell and the rings within that Alastor had left you so wet and already softened. The first few thrusts were genuinely uncomfortable, the pleasure you felt almost entirely mental, drawn from the reality of who was pulling your insides back and forth. You were so tight around him that he too was almost pained; so much pressure but no way to move enough to get any release.

Slowly, the ring of your entrance relented and Luci could finally move at a normal pace. He would take himself out to his head before slipping back in. Every thrust made your body spread around him, a semi-truck through a field of sunflowers. Your body didn’t stand a chance, and you were grateful he chose gentleness for his entrance.

He leaned back on both hands, using the position to fucked up into you at an angle. He knew very well where to hit to begin gathering your pleasure.

Alastor dropped his head, yours between his legs. His hair made a short curtain, hiding the look he was giving you from Luci. He adores the faces you make when you are happy. Excited. Pleasured. You tried to offer him a smile, but you couldn’t manage it for long. Your eyes would wretch shut, lips tighten as you focused on the feeling Luci was providing. Focused on the sensations, of being so full, so wet, so wanted. But Alastor was still watching, the sight of Luci blocked from his view as he enjoyed every little twitch of your mouth, every whimper.

It wasn’t jealousy, it was something more personal that stung Luci. While he couldn’t actually discern the looks you two gave each other, Luci felt very much the odd man out. But, he considered his position. Literally. He was leaning as far from your body as he could. He remembered the way you said Alastor’s name. Alastor had showed him exactly what to do, albeit in his usual obnoxious, showy fashion.

Sitting up, Luci adjusted your legs and slotted himself between them. Alastor leaned back, relinquishing your focus. Both of you looked at Luci though as one of his hands came to enclose your throat.

Alastor was almost impressed. Almost. You brought both hands to wrap around his wrist, glancing to Alastor behind you.

The words came out of Alastor as half warning, half instruction, “If she needs you to stop, she’ll tap two fingers twice on you, wherever she can reach.” Lucifer nodded, eyes not meeting Alastor’s. He kept them on your face, watching for any sign of distress as he tightened his grip. The way your pussy clenched around him earned you a hiss.

He began to move again, the new position causing him to rub against your clit as he buried himself in you. More clenching; He tightened his grip more.

“Are you sure she isn’t hurting?” Luci asked, your eyes closed and nails digging into his wrists.

“Nonsense. Can’t you feel her? Or does she just grip me like that?” The cocky expression made Luci unconsciously clench his fist on your neck. A gentle tap tap snapped him back to you. He loosened up again, his eyes large and apologetic.

You tightened your own grip on his dick, grinding up into him for more friction. Your body had finally relaxed, pleasure freely flowing from where you and Luci tangled together. You closed your eyes, the pressure constant on the veins to your head. Blood flow restricted just enough to lower your oxygen levels and raise the nitrogen oxide in your body. It resulted in a dizzying feeling, maybe there was a primal panic that caused your body to feel heightened pleasure. You didn’t feel scared, or in danger. You felt —— ah there it was. You felt weak. You felt docile. You felt like you existed purely to give pleasure and the idea turned you on. In every day life you’d never allow someone to use you, to push you around. You were anything but subservient. That’s why it was so enthralling now. It was so strange a sensation. And to give yourself so fully to the king of hell, the originator of all sin? You groaned, head rolling back.

Luci watched your head loll, drank in your groans and gasps and felt himself get dizzy too. More. Say his name like you did Alastor’s. Praise how well he fucked you. Reward him. Love him.

He pulled out suddenly, his head leaving you for the first time since it managed to fit in initially. Luci put both hands on your hips and directed you to roll onto your stomach. He pulled your ass up, knees bent. You crawled up enough to rest your forehead on the crook of Alastor’s leg, one lazily outstretched and the other bent under him slightly. Luci wasted no time pushing back in. He leaned over you and pressed his hand into your back, forcing your chest to be slightly crushed into the bed. He pulled out and slammed back into you, tearing a yelp from you as he hit deeper than he had before.

He stopped, unsure, until he felt your hand reach under yourself and rest at the junction of his knee and calf. His other hand came to your right hip, and he used it to keep you from sliding up the bed. Letting his eyes close again, he focused on the feeling of you around him. His crotch and thighs were soaking wet, his balls tight against him. Every drag out of you made his body jerk back into you with need. It felt so good, too good. He needed more. He pressed hard into you, oversized tip of his cock threatening to push past your cervix. He made shorter thrusts now, ensuring he bottomed out every time. It was too deep, too much of a stretch. Your moans slowly devolved into screams, the pleasure mixed with a soft burning.

You could feel him spreading open your womb. The feeling of your cunt pressing down on him from all sides including the front was driving him mad.

You were screaming. Actual, pleasured screams, threatening to alert the entire hotel to your activities. Screams that started shrill and dipped into a gutteral cry filled the room with every thrust of Lucifer’s frenzied hips.

A tiny part of your brain felt embarrassed, a dying animal shrieking into Alastor’s thigh.

An ever shrinking part of Lucifer existed too, the piece of him too preoccupied with your two fingers on his leg to enjoy you. It got smaller and smaller, no longer a blockade to his pleasure, but a safety net allowing him to walk the tightrope of sadism.

The radio’s volume dial rolled, smooth jazz now blaring and drowning out your painfully pleasured cries. Alastor was fine with allowing someone to take care of your needs at his permission but strangers had no business enjoying your sounds.

As Luci became lost in the sensation of your wet pussy trying to suck him in whole, his hand on your back began to press down. Your breaths got shorter, it got harder to expand your lungs fully.

Face turned and drooling onto the fabric of Alastor’s pants, you started gasping out his name, “Luci! Nngh Luciiii, Lucifer.”

Your lips dropped his name and it fell like lead into his thoughts. He fought the urge to close his eyes again as he felt his orgasm building. He watched your flushed skin jump beneath every punishing thrust, his name a spell you could now barely whisper, not enough breathe to scream. Your upper body was entirely buried into the mattress. It felt like your back might snap with Luci’s loss of control. You kept your hand on his leg, ever ready to tap out.

The yellow of his eyes turned red, just like the skin of your ass where his hip bones chaffed. “You take me so well, kitten.” He ground out, “Daddy’s gonna cum.”

Alastor’s eyes glowed a blood red from the end of the bed, a wickedly devious grin across his face at the opportunity before him, he looked up at Luci and said with a commanding tone, “Cum.”

Luci was already over that peak when his eyes flew up to catch Alastor’s, it was too late to stop his orgasm. He was helpless to disobey, despite his now desperate desire to never cum again. With a moan, and a hiss, he pressed your body fully into the mattress. Your body now flush, he waited until his cock stopped jerking his long overdue seed into your bruised womb.

Luci lied on top of you even after you were full to the brim with his cum. It was already forcing its way out around his softening cock when he managed to roll off of you and onto his back.

Staring at the canopy of the bed, he felt two emotions rise to the surface. First, concern. He turned to you, and you gave a weak thumbs up.

Second, rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Fuck you.” He looked to Alastor, who was grinning as he pet your head, whispering something to you.

“Little late for dirty talk, your highness.”

Lucifer growled, but Alastor’s palm pressed against his forehead and pushed him back down to the bed.

“I sleep on the left. I’d prefer you on the right.” he gently moved your head from his lap, “Beside me, my dear. A darling barrier.” Alastor didn’t look at Lucifer, just slid off the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom. “No outside clothes under the comforter.” Alastor called from the bathroom before the sound of rushing water poured in.

You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath. Body sprawled out on the massive bed like a starfish.

Lucifer turned onto his side, hand caressing your arm. “Are you okay, kitten? I didn’t mean to lose myself like that.” He felt shame, like he had done something terrible. “And— I didn’t help you finish. That’s pretty shitty.”

But it fell away when you smiled back at him, “I feel great. Sore, but great all the same.” You let your fingers clumsily lace with his. “I really like you, Luci. And I don’t need to cum to enjoy myself. You can always try again, ya know?”

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but couldn’t press you to clarify what exactly that meant before Alastor scooped you up and carried you to the bath.

There was a moment where he was alone, noticing the radio was back to a tolerable volume, the water splashing softly out of view. He felt out of place, like he had accidentally walked into a stranger’s home. He wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go from there when Alastor’s head popped back into the room, annoyed, “Are you coming or not? Those are clean sheets.”

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leighsartworks216 · 11 months

Note

Screaming crying crawling up the walls for your top tier Astarion content

Idk if you’ve seen this, it’s floating around the internet (I think it’s a tweet?) it says something like “I want someone to grab my face and say ON PURPOSE, I WILL CARE FOR YOU ON PURPOSE” and I’d love to see our love-deprived bi-centurion react to something like this.

Like maybe he’s caught feelings for tav and is starting to feel bad for manipulating them and starts self-sabotaging by saying/thinking stuff like ‘you only THINK you love me but it’s not real, I’m sorry I made you feel this way’ and tav getting v v serious and replying “I never loved you by accident”.

Him being confronted by the fact that things never would’ve gotten this far if they didn’t let it, if they didn’t choose him, that they’re still choosing him and that it has nothing to do with the act he put up or the situation he constructed, if they wanted nothing to do w him they could’ve and would’ve dipped.

Idk I’m just spitting ideas, have fun babe ✌🏻

- 🦇

I wrote this at 2am but I did proofread it (it's almost 4 now 💀)

Also the original tweet is by Jenny Slate (@/jennyslate) and says, "I just want someone to grab my little face and scream 'ON PURPOSE, ON PURPOSE I AM GOING TO CARE ABOUT YOU'"

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: self-doubt, references to manipulation, self-deprecation, references to dissociation, dissociation mention, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,392

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It began one night, almost a week ago. Astarion had gotten into the routine of joining you in your bedroll after feeding, cuddling close and relaxing to the steady sound of your heartbeat. That night, a week ago, he didn’t. He delicately bit into your skin and pulled away before you were even slightly dizzy, murmured something about how you’d need your strength for a fight tomorrow, and slipped off to hunt for animals. Truly, you didn’t think anything of it, then. And maybe you got so lost, so caught up in your daily stress, that was why you didn’t register it for so long. Comments under his breath about manipulation immediately covered up with Gale requesting a magical artifact or Shadowheart and Lae’zel fighting.

So, a week went by. And the realization finally hit. Guilt ate away at your stomach, but wallowing wasn’t going to help. When night started to creep in, your companions slipping into their tents, you slipped into Astarion’s. Sitting in a pile of pillows, he looked up at you with a smirk and a ‘Hello, darling’, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were dark. Distant.

“I’m sorry I haven’t given you the attention you need,” you start. A baffled look flickers across his face, but it is not given the time to settle.

There is a twitch at the corner of his mouth, like it’s a strain for him to keep smirking. “It’s perfectly alright, darling. You’ve been busy running around camp, helping people - I understand.”

With any other person, this would have seemed a perfectly reasonable response. An apology accepted, a mutual understanding - the relationship goes on. Except, this was Astarion.

You sit down nearby, close enough to reach out and touch. Any closer and you worried you’d overcrowd him. You always tried to let him come to you first, though he usually struggled to initiate anything.

“You’ve been distant, too,” you point out. He begins to form the words to apologize, but you shake your head to stop him before they can build a sentence. “I’m not upset, I don’t need an apology. I just wanted to know why.”

To be honest, he didn’t expect you to notice. He assumed, quite stupidly, all things considered, that you would be too preoccupied to notice him slowly slipping away. Late night cuddles dashed for hunting, hand holding forgotten as he trails along at the back of the group, kisses never lingering and the ones that did lacking any emotion behind them.

“Is something wrong?” you prompt gently. “If it’s too much, we can work out what would be better for you.”

Guilt stabs at his own non-beating heart like a wooden stake. He’s drifting and you still throw him a rope, still ask for him to grab on and pull himself away from his past, from dissociating with the slightest hint of affection.

He smiles wryly. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?” he teases, but it comes out a little too strained to be a joke. His fingers fiddle with the corner of the page of his book. He finds watching the paper fold and bend is much more interesting than looking into your eyes.

He sighs. “I’m sorry, my dear,” he says, but the endearment feels like fire on his tongue, “but it’s not real. This isn’t real.” Your brow furrows as you stare at him. He can’t bear to see the realization cross your face. “Two hundred years of manipulating - of course I would trick you, too. It’s instinct, darling, I don’t blame you.” Red eyes finally meet yours. You look confused, of course, but there’s an air of determination, like you’re ready to fight whatever plagues him. “But this… love… it’s not real. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry I made you feel this way.”

He expects anger. He expects tears, even. Crying and shouting and ‘How could you?!’s and ‘I can’t believe you’ve manipulated me all this time!’ But it never comes. You frown, sure, but it’s leagues away from being angry.

“You think… you manipulated me into feeling this way?”

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Admitting it feels bitter. He blames it on his growing fondness for you, but he knows it cannot possibly be returned in any genuine way. Not with his underhanded tactics surfacing at every passing glance, soft brush, and gentle smile. “Come now, darling,” he smirks again, building a wall to separate himself from the shitshow that must be just ‘round the corner, “who could really love me?”

That only succeeds in making you frown further. “Astarion, I’m not with you because you’ve tricked me.” The baffled look from earlier surfaces again, but it lingers, mixed with doubt. “I understand that you started this to manipulate me into protecting you, but I’m not here because you successfully influenced my emotions - To be perfectly honest, I could tell from the start.”

He laughs dryly, suddenly, like it startles him. “And here I was thinking I’d learned some subtlety.”

You don’t laugh with him. You don’t even smile. “I chose you, Astarion. I still choose to be with you. Because I want to.”

Any lingering mask of confidence fell from his face. The creases around his mouth became more prominent as he frowned. His eyes darted around, glancing around your face for any tells of deception, any hint that you’re making this up to make him feel better. “How can you be sure? How do you know you’re choosing me and not just buying into another act?”

“Astarion.” You get on your knees and hold his face in your hands. He stares up at you with big, round eyes. “If I wanted to, I could break up with you. I am not staying because I feel stuck, or because I feel obligated to. I love you. On purpose. On purpose, I am staying with you. On purpose, I choose you.”

He opens his mouth, but no words form. His mind is reeling, chasing to catch up and process everything, all the while jumping and flipping, trying to find excuses or reasons why you shouldn’t care for him. He swallows the lump building in his throat. He speaks in a whisper, too stunned to speak louder. “Are you sure?”

Your whole face softens. Determination turns to fond affection, frown lifting into a soft grin. “Yes. I’m sure.” You press a kiss to his forehead, and he closes his eyes to savor it. It’s been a week without allowing himself your love - he deserves to enjoy it once again, even if he feels guilty for it. He wishes his thoughts would just shut up and let him have this. “If you still need space or time, I’ll be here. I’m not leaving. Just,” you pull his face back, “please talk to me about this next time. I know things have been hectic, but I’m never too busy for you.”

He sighs, slow and soft. Relieved. “Of course, my love.” He adores the way you smile brightly at the endearment. He turns sheepish. “Ah, could I, possibly, join you tonight? It does, admittedly, get rather lonely passing the time alone.”

You kiss his cheek. “Of course you can. C’mon, I’ll even play with your hair if you’d like.”

He chuckles, genuine this time. “I very much would.” His book is set aside, the page he left off on lost as he takes your hand and follows you from his tent. He can’t help himself from squeezing your hand in his, like he can’t quite grasp the fact you are physically holding onto him. Even when you lay down first and he settles in next to you, arms wrapped around your middle and his head on your chest, it still feels hard to believe. But the way you wrap your arms around him and gently detangle his curls and scratch lightly at his scalp cannot possibly be from his imagination. Nor the way you press kisses on his forehead and temple and hair with sweet praises and words of affection. His mind is not kind enough to imagine such tenderness.

Laying there in your arms, listening to the steady beat of your heart and even breaths that fill your lungs as you slip into sleep, is the closest he has ever been to true contentment.

---

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jasntodds · 3 months

Text

Penance [4]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,682

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of angst, some fluff, mentions of death, some blood, panic attack (jason), bits of ptsd, some violence, hurt/comfort

Summary:❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I might have gotten this idea from 911 but that's fine lol I hope you guys like it!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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As the next day comes around, it takes Jason some time to convince Tim not to go looking for Venta if they’re going out later. Tim is thrilled to be helping with the Penguin to the point Jason finds the whole thing a little funny. Jason was always excited to go out as Robin. It was the coolest thing ever but Tim really is over the moon about it. Jason doesn’t think Tim has ever been happier about it and it actually worries him.

As much as Jason is happy for him, he is worried. He’s worried Tim will put his all into Robin and lose himself in it, just like Dick and Jason did. Robin was never something they got to do. It was given to them as a way to cover up their grief. It was a way to weaponize their grief rather than work through it. Jason hopes that won’t be the case for Tim. It doesn’t seem that way. It seems he just wants it for the greater good and he’s just excited. And the way he’s excited is still very serious like he knows he can’t let that excitement out onto the field so he lets it out now where it’s safe. It’s something he knows he has to take seriously. Jason worries but he hopes it’ll work out because he can tell that Tim will be a good Robin.

You meet the boys back at Jason's around midnight, a case in hand with your suit. You're pretty excited to go out on a mission with not only Tim for the first time, but also Jason. You really miss that stuff with him. But, with Tim, it’s new and you're excited to see how he does. No one can’t stop him from being Robin and being out there, so you might as well embrace it and that’s what you're doing even if you're terrified of it.

“Really gonna take down the Penguin.” Tim says almost in awe once you're dressed and back in the main corridor downstairs.

“Pretty sure we’re not taking him down, really.” You nod your head as Tim moves his staff around with pent-up energy.

“Kind of.” Tim defends.

“We’re just securing the guns and turning them over to Babs.” Jason reminds him as he walks in now in his Red Hood suit, the helmet on his hip. “Not taking out Penguin, he’s not even supposed to be there this time.”

“The fuck he is doing that he’s not gonna be at his own shipment?” You question, your stare directly at Jason and you can't help but feel maybe that's a bit weird.

“Fuck if I know, Penguin things.” Jason lets out a scoff. "Could think we wouldn't come for him since we haven't." Jason shrugs casually, it's not the first time Penguin hasn't been around so he isn't too concerned about it.

“What a weirdo.” You let out a sigh, shrugging the uneasiest from your bones with the ease of Jason's voice.

“Yeah.” Jason chuckles softly. “Alright, let’s get going. Tim, you ride with her.” Jason hands Tim a spare helmet. Jason heads for the exit, the two of you right behind him. “And just make sure you do what we say.”

“Got it.” Tim nods.

“Then, let’s get out of here.” Jason nods once as the three of you exit the building.

The three of you ride over to the warehouse near Harbor that Penguin is using. The three of you get to a roof, laying down to look over the edge as the three of you closely watch as the shipment is taken from one of the boats and moved into the warehouse. Penguin isn’t here it seems and only a handful of his goons are. That’s a red flag, Jason and you can both sense it. You exchange a glance but you're already here and you gave Babs a heads up. It'd be a little hard to leave now so you just keep watching, hoping this won't cause too many problems.

Once the lot is cleared of goons, the three of you make your way to the roof of the warehouse, Tim trailing along well. On top of the roof, there's a skylight where you can see the crates in the center of the room with the goons armed and looking around. This isn't anything you and Jason haven't done before so you both give Tim a quick rundown of a plan. Tim gets two goons while you and Jason will take out the rest and if he's in trouble just call out. Once Tim seems to be up to speed, Jason and you break the window first, using your grappling hooks to lower yourselves down quickly, Tim right behind with his own grappling hook.

You take your own four goons with ease while Jason takes the other four, leaving Tim with just the two. You and Jason find yourselves looking over your shoulders to make sure Tim isn’t laid out but every time you both check, he seems to be holding his own pretty well. By the time you and Jason have your goons down, Tim has his down, a proud smile on his face.

“I got them.” Tim says breathlessly. “Wasn’t so bad.”

You look over to Jason with the roll of your eyes. “Okay, Robin.” You nod once before you let out a breath.

“Let’s make sure everything is here and we’ll put in the call.” Jason says as the three of you start opening the crates finding several automatic weapons.

“What’s he doing with all of them anyway?” Tim asks, standing beside you.

“Penguin things.” You and Jason say at the same time.

“Right…” Tim lets out a breath.

This has gone pretty well so far according to you and Jason but that is what's not sitting right. Nothing with these guys ever goes exactly according to plan. That was one of the reasons Jason wanted to bring Tim so he would have to learn to adapt but nothing else is happening. Penguin isn't here and his goons barely even put up a fight. You need to get out of here, this isn't right.

“You didn’t think this would be that easy did you?” A nasally voice says from the platform above the three of you.

The three of you turn to see Penguin with his right hand right next to him. He looks a bit too excited and happy to be here. Jason wants to bang his head against a wall and you're nearly rolling your eyes into the back of your head. This was too easy and for Penguin to seem awfully pleased with himself, this is about to get very bad.

“We can take your goons all night, man. Or you can just walk the fuck away.” Jason offers as he crosses his arms.

Penguin tilts his head back and laughs. “That won’t be necessary. The two of you really are some replacements. And you even have your own sidekick!”

“Hey!” Tim yells, taking a step forward.

You grab his arm with a tight grip. “Shut up.” You grit your teeth at him. "Sounds like you could use a sidekick or two though." You quip back to Penguin. "Planning this with the Bat to of town? What? You scared or something, Penguin?"

“I'm not scared." Penguin says it so casually it sends a chill down your spine. "I knew you’d get in the way which is why I prepared for that!” Pengiun chimes. "You really should know something about that, Red Hood." Penguin mocks before he pulls out a detonator.

A bomb. Of course, it’s a fucking bomb.

“Have fun.” Penguin smiles at the three of you before he presses the button and immediately starts walking out.

You and Jason exchange a stare as a ticking echoes around you. You won’t have time. Penguin planned this so you wouldn’t have time even with his warning. There's no time to find the bomb and disable it, there's not even enough time to get out of the building. How did you both miss this?

It's all going in slow motion as Jason can see the panic wanting to stretch over your face, Tim looking petrified right beside you. There isn’t time to even reach you. And even if there was, what’s he supposed to do? He can’t catch a building. There’s only one thing to do and it’s as if you share the exact same thought that he does in that single second.

Jason and you turn at the same time to run towards the exit, you grabbing Tim by the arm to drag him along. The ticking quickens from above you. You’re out of time. You’re out of time and there’s nothing else left to do. The ticking echoes and echoes and in a split second, Jason is running behind a pillar and you grab the edge of your cape before wrapping it around Tim as you tackle him to the ground.

And the bomb goes off less than a second later.

The warehouse rumbles and vibrates as Jason is tucked into a ball behind the pillar, his hands covering his neck as if waiting for a tornado to hit. The rumbling shakes his bones and it’s so loud. Every rumble and echo shatter through his bones. His eyes are slammed shut as the warehouse fills with smoke as the roof starts to collapse. Jason’s chest starts to burn and it shouldn’t.

The mask has a ventilator. His chest shouldn’t hurt but it does and he thinks his ears are bleeding. His bones are stinging. Why are his bones stinging? Why is so hard to breathe? His eyes burn and sting even with them closed. Not again. This can't be happening again. Panic spreads itself over Jason like an itchy weighted blanket. He doesn't want to die again. Dying is terrifying and the building is collapsing around him. A part of him thinks he can hear the crude laugh of the Joker echoing somewhere through the shattering concrete. It all feels too much and he can't breathe. Every part of him is shaking as he's been left out to the elements in the middle of February. This can't be happening.

And then it all falls eerily silent.

Jason's breath is quick and uneven as he tries to ground himself. It's silent, the collapsing is over. It takes him a few minutes to try to gather himself, desperately trying to pull his mind away from the edge of terror. This is the first time something like this has happened since the Joker. Jason thinks the fear isn't any better the second time around.

He thinks it's worse.

But, he finds it in himself to finally slowly pull his hands away from his neck, his arms feeling like warm jello as they shake. He slowly sits up partially, looking around what was the warehouse. It’s cloudy, filled with dust and smoke. It’s hard to even see a few feet in front of him but he looks over to where you last were with Tim and he can’t see anything. The dust is too thick and he can’t help but let the panic start to flood his blood again.

He has the helmet. His eyes are protected but what about yours? Your mask has a ventilator but what if it doesn’t work? Do you even communicate enough with Bruce to make sure your equipment is working? And Tim doesn’t have any eye protection or a ventilator. It doesn’t matter if you're on your own, you and Tim are Jason’s responsibility. He’s the most experienced. He should have known this wasn’t right. Something should have went off in his head. He should have fucking known. Why didn’t he know?

The dust starts to dissipate with every passing second and Jason gets a better glimpse where you and Tim last were. He swears he’s going to be sick as his heart stops beating as it shoots into his throat. There’s a pile of cement from the ceiling. A long pile where that part of the ceiling collapsed and there is no sight of blue or red. There’s not yellow or black. It’s just brown and grey.

No.

Jason gets to his feet as fast as his legs will allow him and he sprints over to the cement. Not you. Not you. Not you. It can’t be you. He grabs one of the cement blocks and starts trying to pull it away to make a hole in the pile. He can feel the panic taking over again.

It’s been better. It’s been better again since he started seeing Leslie again. He can feel the panic sometimes but it’s better. He can fight through it usually and it doesn’t cause him as much distress out in the field. But, now it’s coming back like a wrecking ball. It’s been easier because he hasn’t had someone to look out for. It’s been easier because he hasn’t had to worry even if he always does. It was always fine if he had to eat it. But, being here and digging through a pile of cement in hopes you’re both alive, that’s different.

If he had to die again, that'd be fine as terrifying as it is. But, the thought it being someone else, being people that he actually cares about, that's an entirely other story.

“Blue!” Jason yells as loud as his can, his voice is raw and he hates the sound of it in his ears. It sounds desperate and scared but he is both of those things. Not you. “Robin!” He calls after, this time stronger, hoping he’ll hear one of you yell back.

The thought of seeing you crushed brings instant tears to his eyes and his stomach twist. He thinks about how you haven’t talked in a month and that’s such a waste. Why the fuck didn’t he just call you? He should have fucking called you. He’s panicking and he hates it but seeing you dead is his greatest fear today. He knows what it’s like to die and to die scared. You were scared. You don’t deserve it. It can’t be you. Please, not you.

And he knows Dick is gonna kill him if Tim dies on his watch. Tim just started and he volunteered for this. He can't be punished for wanting to do something for the greater good, for just wanting to help. It can’t be Tim either. Somehow, you both need to be alive under this pile.

Jason’s teeth grit before he rips the helmet from his head, annoyed by the vision of it. And he gets to work on the cement again. You both have to be alive. There is not another option. You have to be. And then he gets a glimpse of a bright blue fabric.

Jason forgets how to breathe and he works faster, pulling the concrete away as fast as his muscles will even allow. He’s able to make a big enough hole in the pile to reach you and just as he looks into the hole, there’s movement. He still isn’t breathing as he waits to see who it is and not a single part of him can even think to hope who he wants it to be because it has to be both of you.

And then you look up at him.

Jason lets out a breath.

Your eyes are wide and your face is covered in dust, a stream of blood falling down the side of your face. But he can tell by the softness in your eyes that you're relieved to see him, too.

The building fell on you and Tim. The building fucking collapsed on you and you have no idea why you thought your cape would help but it was something you could try. And then you got pinned. You think you’d normally start to panic because you were practically entirely on top of Tim and you couldn’t move. You both could have been trapped there but you know Jason has a habit of living through some fucked up shit. Something in you knew if he made it, he’d be there. He’d never let either of you rot under a pile of concrete. You knew he’d come.

Jason always comes.

And then Tim looks up, too.

Jason shakes his head, looking down for a second to gather himself before he offers a hand. You take his hand in yours as Jason pulls you out. He’s careful but deliberate making sure you don’t slip. Once you're on solid ground, he wastes no time in looking you over, his hands coming to your cheeks.

Besides the blood coming from a small cut near your hairline, Jason doesn’t see any other visible injuries. It doesn’t bring him much relief because internal injuries are still a thing and he thinks you should all go to the Batcave and do some scans. For all he knows, it's a lot worse than a small cut and you have to get out of here quickly just to make sure. He just needs to make sure.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks quickly, still looking over you.

Your hands shake as they come to his hands on your cheeks. “I’m fine.” Your voice is soft as you answer him, your thumbs running over his hands. He looks absolutely terrified. You aren't sure you've ever really seen this look on his face before. “I’m okay.” You nod against him as you watch a small part of his face dissolve into relief as his eyes meet yours.

You feel okay though very shaky and weak. Your limbs and back are sore, your ribs feel a little achy but nothing feels wrong. A part of you feels a little out of body and terrified anyway, like there's leftover panic still running through your veins. Being crushed by a building wasn't something you thought would happen and it definitely wasn't something you were prepared for. Gong toe-to-toe with bad guys with guns and knives and fists is the easy part. The uncertainty of a bomb and a collapsing building is a bit horrifying. But, physically, you think you're okay.

“We gotta do some scans at the cave, alright? Make sure there’s no internal bleeding or some shit.” Jason keeps his eyes on yours, trying with everything in him to control the panic in his voice.

“I’m fine—“

“No.” Jason cuts you off. This is one risk he's not willing to take. Your life is the one risk Jason will never take no matter what you want to argue. “You don’t know that, okay?”

Suddenly, it's as if you're back on Amusement Mile that night. It was dark and gloomy, nothing too unusual for a night in Gotham City. But, it felt colder and it all felt wrong. The pit in your stomach gnawed and begged you to turn around. You remember knowing with the very sight of the yellow on the Robin cape. You remember how terrified you were walking up to his body, waiting for the confirmation of your biggest fear. You're thinking you might have shared a similar look to the one Jason is giving you now.

“Okay.” You agree with a gentle nod.

Jason sucks in a breath, his brows still pulled together with worry. "Good."

“Yeah, uh, a little help, please?” Tim calls from behind the two of you.

The two of you drop your hands and immediately turn around.

“Fuck, yeah sorry, man.” Jason rushes.

“Sorry!” You call as the two of you rush back to the hole in the pile Jason made to help Tim.

Once Tim is out of the pile, Jason and you look him over quickly, making sure he isn’t missing a limb and nothing is deformed.

“I’m fine.” Tim assures the two of you, not missing the worry between you. “That was crazy though.” Tim looks around with ease, almost like he’s unbothered. You and Jason give him a confused look. Why is he so fine? “We caught a zombie Deathstroke and are fighting a few demons. I was also shot and killed by Scarecrow.” Tim shrugs casually, already growing used to seeing his life in danger which is not nearly as reassuring as he thinks it is.

“Alright.” You roll your eyes, wishing he'd give some insight on how he's able to handle things well.

“Sure, man.” Jason nods his head, unsure if he's completely convinced someone can just walk away from major traumas perfectly fine. “We’re still doing a scan. Let’s get outta here.” Jason jerks his head towards where he threw his helmet.

“You, too.” You state as Jason grabs his helmet and starts walking towards the exit.

“Me, too what?” Jason asks, adjusting his helmet on his hip.

“Scans.” Tim adds in as him and you start to follow Jason. “If you’re forcing us, you have to, too.” Tim states, thinking that's probably a good idea for all of you anyway. Jason's limp doesn't go unnoticed by Tim and Tim can feel his shoulder starting to ache. He knows you took the brunt of the force.

“Aww, you’re learning." You chime.

Jason lets out a groan, swearing he's the one that's fine. He was not crushed by a building but he's not in the mood to fight with either of you. “Fucking fine.” He doesn’t bother protesting knowing damn well you will get what you want. You will win. You always win when it comes to him.

The three of you get on your bikes and head out of the city and to Wayne Manor, something Tim is very excited about. He wasn’t really going to complain about getting any scans done. Getting scans means going into the Batcave again and this time, it won’t be taken over by Crane. Getting scans means getting to actually hang out in the Batcave this time. Tim would never turn down the opportunity now.

You still want to protest but you saw the worry over Jason’s face. You feel fine besides a headache. But, you aren’t going to take the risk for Jason’s sake. You think back to the times you said you’d die for each other and you think that’s easy. You’d run in front of a bullet for him even today. It doesn’t matter but making sure you're okay enough to live feels harder. You don’t want to die or anything but maybe you’d normally brush this off and then that might be it. But, Jason looks at you with all the love his heart could muster and you can’t do it to him. You can live for him, too.

Once you’re at the manor, the three of you use the tunnel to enter the cave immediately. Jason and you go to the changing area, Tim following right behind you. There are always extra sweats there, just in case in a variety of sizes. You grab some for you and Tim while Jason grabs himself a pair. The three of you go off into different changing rooms and get changed before you meet out in the med area of the cave. You go for the scan first just to get it over with.

Tim of course sits beside Jason as they watch the imaging load. It was something Bruce taught him to look for when Jason first got hurt as Robin. They look for internal bleeding, broken bones, swollen organs, anything they can't see from the outside. They can’t just go to the hospital every time they’re hurt. That would raise some questions so they do the scans here. If something is serious, they can go. Which has yet to happen in Jason’s time as Robin. But, he takes what he learned from Bruce and he passes it onto Tim.

Once your scan is over, you join the boys, sitting beside Jason. The scan doesn’t take much longer to load and it seems everything is okay. It's a relief for all of you even if Jason isn't totally sitting with ease over it. It's a relief but there is something still making him worry anyway. But he keeps it to himself while Tim jumps up, ready for his turn. Once Tim is ready, Jason gets the scans going.

With Tim is the machine, that leaves you and Jason to yourselves and Jason can't quite keep his stare on the computer. You've been hurt before and he hasn't felt like this. Once you get confirmation you're fine, it starts to fade away but tonight, it's as if he's run out of places to dissolve his worry and paranoia. He's not sure what he'd do if something happened to you.

“Let me help.” Jason points to the cut on your forehead before he gets up and grabs some of the supplies.

“Oh, uh, yeah, okay.” You nod before you sit on the counter.

Jason takes out the alcohol pads and carefully wipes some of the blood, you hissing in response. Jason mumbles a quick apology but continues working. It’s not bad. Jason doesn’t even think you need stitches and he thinks you're lucky. You though, you're just watching him carefully. So much has changed and yet this feels like nothing has changed. It feels like it did that first night after Jerry. Something about him moving carefully, gently, but a little rough. He doesn’t say anything and he dodges your eyes. And you think your stomach is swirling and bubbling just as it did that night.

“What’ve you been up to?” You ask quietly, eyes looking right at him.

Jason pauses, looking at you before he goes back to cleaning the cut on your forehead. He shifts slightly, the feeling of being exposed starting to fade right over him. “Usual.” Jason answers. “Taking out dickwads, reading, researching, helping Babs.”

You looked in the mirror after you changed, the cut wasn't bad. He should be done by now but he's taking his time. He's still dodging your stare and he's minding his right leg. His mouth is pressed into a straight line. He's seemed okay besides tonight, happy even. You really hope this doesn't set him back because he should be happy. It's what he deserves. And you wonder if it was all just some sort of facade because Jason hates people knowing what he's thinking. Maybe it was just an act for Tim or for you for some reason.

You hope not.

“Are you happy?” You whisper to him, hoping he'll be honest if he's not and hoping he really is happy with the life he's making for himself.

Jason freezes.

Maybe in the grand scheme of life he is. Generally speaking, he thinks he’s happy most days. He isn’t miserable. And his relationship with Bruce is getting better and his relationship with all of the Titans is getting better. Molly is still one of his best friends. He likes what he does. But, he can’t quite bring himself to say he’s happy. It’s the ache in his bones he can’t shake and the white streak of hair that won’t go away. The Y scar that stares back at him when he looks in the mirror after a shower. The way his leg still fucking hurts sometimes and the nightmares. The panic attacks sometimes that seem to hit him like a freight train out of nowhere. The fact that he feels lonely.

He was so fine being alone for so long and then he was comfortable not being alone. Now, he’s just lonely. He lives alone and he spends a lot of time alone and it’s just lonely. His heart feels like it’s contracting in his chest while a lump finds its way at the base of his throat. And he misses you. Maybe he could live with that choice if it weren’t for everything else. But, he thinks he could live with everything else if he didn’t miss you so much.

“I don’t know.” Jason answers, not wanting to give the real answer but not wanting to lie entirely. “Are you?”

You think you're happy most of the time. You live with Molly so you aren’t alone and you're eternally grateful for that. And you have movie nights. You even have movie nights with Gar and Tim over FaceTime. You and Rachel talk a lot now and you’re on good terms. You love what you do and you love helping Babs. Bruce doesn’t want to kick you out of Gotham. Things feel like they’re getting better. The nightmares have gotten a little better even if you wake Molly up sometimes screaming. But the guilt always comes at night, weighing down every bit that could make you happy. The guilt of everything that happens just chews away part of your happiness as if you aren't allowed to be happy. And maybe you could live with it, if you didn’t miss Jason like you need oxygen. You miss him more than you could ever miss anything.

“I don’t know.” You answer the same way as if you understand and Jason feels seen so he shifts his feet, tossing the alcohol pads into the trash under the table. Jason presses his hands on the counter, resting them beside your thighs as he leans in slightly. He doesn't even fully realize he does it. “You deserve to be happy, Jay.” You keep your voice quiet as Jason’s brows pull together as if he’s in pain.

“So do you.” Jason nods once.

“What would make you happy?” You ask and aren’t sure why you did. Maybe you hope he’ll even jokingly say you and then that’ll give you a reason to tell your guilt to shut up and take a backseat. And you think he might say it because his eyes finally lock on yours and the pain in his face starts to fade.

He thinks it’s you.

“I don’t know.” He answers anyway because admitting it seems unfair to both of you. You’ve been here before and yeah, you both know. You both know it shouldn’t have been the way it was then but it’s different. He isn’t pushing to self-destruct. He just wants to be ready if he tells you and he isn’t sure he is. “What about you?” Jason asks, thinking if you say it, he’ll say it anyway.

You think it's him.

“I don’t know.” You echo and you shake your head before you lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. You feel him relax and you almost want to cry. Jason's hands slowly move onto your thighs and he wants to burst at the seams. You making the move tells Jason everything he needs to know. And Jason relaxing with his hands on your thighs tells you everything you need to know. It's still him and you. “Happy you’re here though…happy you were there tonight.” You say honestly.

“Me, too. Happy you came along tonight.” Jason says back as he pulls away but he keeps his hands on your thighs.

"Thanks for coming to save us." You offer him a subtle smile.

"Of course." Jason nods his head softly. "You and me?" Jason offers the same smile.

Your hand comes to his cheek, running a thumb along the skin and his shoulders relax. “You and me.” You echo.

It’s silent for a few seconds as if you’re both wanting to see where this will go. Unsure where you want it to go. Before, you both knew. You knew you wanted each other so you’d jump the second you could. But this isn’t that. You want each other but there is so much caution in it. You’re both terrified of overstepping boundaries and ruining whatever you’re trying to rebuild. You’re terrified of hurting each other again. You're both worried you aren't ready for something again. So as much as you both want each other, a part of both of you almost feels okay with waiting to make sure it’s right this time. For each other even if you both want to explode.

And then Tim clears his throat.

“Uh, so…am I gonna die again?” Tim quips making you and Jason pull apart.

“Yeah.” Jason answers immediately, glancing at the screen and earning a light tap from you which makes him laugh. Jason actually takes a second to look over the scans before finishing his sentence. “Eventually but not tonight. You’re fine.” Jason finishes.

“Shithead.” You mutter with the roll of your eyes but a smile finds itself across your lips.

“Babe.” Jason grins.

“You two are weird.” Tim mutters as he walks up to the two of you.

“Your turn.” You tap Jason on the shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Jason pulls in a breath and makes his way to the scan.

Once Jason is situated, you get the machine going before you look over Tim. The scans are clear and he seems fine. He actually looks really happy which you know is because he's sitting in the Batcave. He's still looking over the Batcomputer, his eyes wandering around the cave every so often. You can't say you blame him really but you're surprised and relieved he's handling things well.

"You can explore if you want, ya know?" You suggest.

"Really?" Tim's eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

"Yeah? You are Robin." You let out a soft laugh and before you can even say another word, Tim is out of his seat.

“What’s going on with you guys anyway?" Tim questions as he makes his way over to the case holding Jason's Robin suit, the blood still staining it. "Looked like I interrupted something.” Tim glances back at you and then the suit before he moves on.

“No.” You shake your head, keeping her eyes on the screen. “Catching up a little bit.”

Tim rolls his eyes and lets out a scoff. “You guys forgot I was crushed by a building." Tim defends, making his way over to the training area.

"I said I was sorry and so did he." You defend even though you know you'll be feeling guilty about that for awhile. "Don't tell Dick though."

"Wasn't going to." Tim chuckles softly. "Seems like there's something going on." Tim states as the cave falls silent. He looks over as you glare back him, very clearly unamused by his observation. "I'm just saying." Tim states as he shrugs his shoulders, going back to looking at the variety of knives Bruce has.

You let out a sigh and decide maybe you will ask Tim for his input. Everyone else knows so much about you and Jason, not just as a couple but as vigilantes. Tim, on the other, doesn't know that side of it. This is the first time Tim is actually even hanging out with Jason for more than a few minutes. He might actually be the perfect person to talk to.

“Alright, listen, can we talk about it later?” You ask. “I do honestly have a headache and to dig into that right now is not what I want to do. But we can talk about it later.”

“Alright.” Tim sighs as he starts making his way back to you.

“Any word about Bernard?” You ask as Tim takes his seat back beside you.

“No change.”

“I’m sorry, Tim.” You say softly. “You guys will figure it out. He’ll be okay.”

“Thanks.” Tim mutters as he leans onto his elbow.

Jason’s scans finish a few minutes later allowing him to rejoin the other two of you. You look over the scans, feeling relief come over you. You figured he was fine, Jason usually is. But, it is nice having actual confirmation he's okay even a part of you will still be glancing him over and watching him carefully just for extra security. Scans can be wrong.

“So?” Jason questions with a knowing look, knowing he is fine.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re fine.” You wave him off with eyes wide to mock him. “Just to be safe.”

“Yeah.” Jason pulls a breath into his lungs and he knows.

He wonders if you’ll always be more worried about him. With not talking now and the whole shit with Crane before, he hasn’t had too much time to even think about it. And you were so worried that whole time because of Crane and because he had just died. But, he wonders about now. Now that some of the dust has settled and you've been away from him. He can tell by how you're still glancing over him as if expecting him to start gushing blood from an invisible wound that you're worried. And he thinks you're more worried than you normally would be. A scan and a look over would usually be enough but not tonight. He wonders if it’s because he died. Maybe you’ll always be trapped in a spiral of worry knowing it might happen again.

Jason thinks that sounds like torture.

He wants to find a way to assure you he’s fine but he’s not really sure what he could possibly do. He’s not fine since dying. It’s hard to walk every day with that kind of weight around his chest but he is physically fine and he wants you to know that. He breathes today and he did yesterday. Before, he thinks he would have made a joke and then kissed you. It’s what he always did and it always calmed your nerves. You would have slept together and if he were injured, you would have known. It was always harder hiding any type of injury from you because either you’d see it, you’d catch him slipping, or he’d flinch when you laid down together. He can’t very well do any of that now. And he can’t possibly say anything because Tim is right here and the last thing Jason wants is to further expose himself to anyone else. So, he just bites back his comments and shrugs it all off.

“We can head back out if you guys are ready.” Jason suggests.

The three of you grab your things before you head from the Batcave and go back to Jason’s place. It’s quiet in your comms. Tim chalks it up to being tired, the adrenaline wearing off for all three of you. Jason just wants to get home and shake the night from his spine. You find yourself wondering if the gravity of vigilante life will ever wear off when something like tonight happens. You love it and you swear you do, it’s just really hard sometimes and you haven’t quite found the right way to cope with it.

You could have died tonight which is a reality most nights and it never seems like too big of a deal to you because it’s you and the person with a gun or a bomb or a knife. It’s just you. Not talking to Jason or seeing him has made it a little easier not to think about him doing the same thing. But tonight, the weight of loss collapsed your shoulders the second that roof fell. Jason pulled you out of the rubble. You heard the way his voice sounded, the tremble and the fear etched into his windpipe. You saw the look on his face when he pulled you out.

Panic. Relief. Panic. Terror. Anger.

And something else you don’t want to touch with a ten-foot pole.

Something about the idea of him suffering in the way you did makes you want to turn the bike around and go as far as you can without looking back. And you think about how he could have been hurt again. You and Tim were trapped easily. What if he was, too? What if the roof fell on him and he died? You aren’t so sure you’d be able to survive the loss of him again. Even as you are today.

When you get back, Tim says a quick goodbye to you before disappearing into the building. Jason takes his time though, watching your brows pinch together as your stare falls anywhere but on him.

“You alright?” He asks carefully.

You nod and offer him a fake smile. “Yeah, all good.” You chew the inside of your cheek and you just don't want to go home. Going home sounds scary and like maybe it won't feel quite like home this time.

Jason nods back. “What’s wrong?”

He keeps his distance from you. He’s standing three feet away from you and he’s thinking that’s for the best. You aren't normally quiet after missions like this. It's as if talking always reassures you that you're both fine. But, tonight you were quiet and you look uncomfortable in your own skin. Jason doesn't want to overstep. He doesn't want to move closer and that be the real problem. You got a little close in the cave and Jason knows how you are with that. He's betting you still like to run so, he keeps his distance for right now.

“Nothing, why?” You ask and you keep your stance from him.

You want to kiss him and tell him you're glad he’s okay. You said it but you want to kiss him until he knows fully. Jason has never been one to take words at face value. He responds better with action and the only way you know to show your love for him is by touch. But, that's not fair to either of you. You would give anything to go back to how it was even if it's just for one night. You wish you could both forget everything that happened, pretend none of it happened. It would be so much easier that way.

“I always know when something’s wrong.” Jason sucks in a breath and he didn’t think he’d be the one pulling for answers from you.

You shake your head and lying to him never came easy.

You swore you’d never lie to him.

“Scary.” Your voice is so small and Jason almost closes the distance between you to engulf you in the tightest hug he could manage without hurting you.

But he cements his feet to the ground below him.

“You’re okay, though. So, is Tim.” Jason assures, his words careful.

“Yeah…” Your voice is still so small and Jason takes one step closer to you, knowing you and Tim aren't your full concern.

“I’m fine, ya know? Like…all good.” Jason keeps his voice level as his eyes scan over your face, looking for any change.

“No, I know.” You nod softly, your voice bigger this time.

You're worried he isn’t. The scans say he is and he says he is. You know he wouldn’t lie to you with you being worried. You know but you're worried anyway. He gets a second chance and he deserves it. He deserves it so much and you just want him to be happy and healthy. You want him to be able to live as the Jason Todd you fell in love with. You don’t want him to have any more trauma to try and bear. You aren’t so sure he could bear it anymore.

You think what would have happened if you didn’t get lucky tonight.

No part of you has to guess how it would go.

He’d blame himself. He’d torture himself inside and out just like you did.

“Just…” You shake your head. “Can you promise me something even if it’s not very fair?” Your eyes finally land on his.

“What?” Jason asks.

“If-if, uh, something happens to me…like anything, c-can you, uh,…not blame yourself, please?” You ask. “I-I know how you are and I saw the way you looked at me tonight. I know what it’s like and…” Your voice trails off.

“What?” Jason pushes, trying to wrap his head around the question. Of all the things you could be worried about, you're worried about how he'd react to you dying.

“I don’t want you to suffer for it.” You state. “You’ll torture yourself, I know you will. So, if something happens to me, can you promise me you won’t do that? Because I would never blame you.”

“What if it is my fault?” Jason scoffs. “Tonight--”

“It won’t be.” You cut him off entirely with so much certainty, it freezes Jason. “I know, despite it all, you would do everything to make sure I was okay. You, uh, you have always just, uh, j-just tried to keep me safe. So, if something happens, I know it won’t be your fault.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen anyway.” Jason answers back, digging his feet in because even a hypothetical question sends his head into a panic.

“But something did happen, Jay!” You yell back in desperation. “Something did!" Your eyes water before your voice comes back down. "I don’t want you to be like me.”

You nearly beg him and Jason is so thrown by what you say, he has to pause and try to understand. He swears you're the best person he has ever met. He loves you. He knows that it got messy but he also knows between those lines, him dying changed a part of you. It led you into a guilt you can’t shake and that he feels is on him. The least he can do is make the promise and try to keep it but he swears nothing can happen to you. He can’t let anything happen.

“Then you have to stop fucking blaming yourself, too.” Jason states back. “I died. That’s not on you." Jason says it so bluntly you nearly choke on your own heartbeat. "I promise but…you gotta promise me then you’re gonna stop blaming yourself, too. There was nothing you could have done.” The words are sour and bitter on his tongue. Knowing it was his fault he got himself killed is one of the hardest pills for him to swallow.

You nod your head softly and you can’t make the promise but you can promise to try. “I promise to try.”

“Good.” Jason states and he watches you tug your sleeve down over your wrist. Maybe he is very worried about you, too. Tonight was heavy and a lot to handle even if it all worked out. It almost didn't. Maybe it’s stupid but he doesn’t want to be alone tonight and he’s betting you don’t either. “Did, uh, did you wanna stay tonight?” Jason asks.

“W-what?” You stutter, the question catching you off guard.

“Did you wanna stay here?" Jason asks again, this time trying to make his voice sound far more casual than he's feeling. "Look, it’s not like we haven’t done this shit before.” Maybe he’s worried the scans are wrong, too and he just wants to look out for you. He misses you. “Just friends.” Jason assures you.

You were really hoping he'd ask.

“Can you, uh..."

“Of course.” Jason finishes before you get the chance to finish because he already knows. “I get to pick though, you picked the last three books.” Jason says with a tender smile and he gets one in return.

“Okay, Jay.” You nod as you take a step forward. “Thank you.”

“You and me.” Jason offers her his signature smirk with the casual shrug of his shoulders.

You stick your hand out and Jason takes it with ease. “You and me.” You echo while Jason pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders before the two of you walk into the building.

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#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #penance

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acewritesfics · 9 months

Text

First Christmas | TOMMY SHELBY

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

©️ no one has permission to copy, translate and/or repost my works on here or anywhere else.

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No

Fic Type: Blurb

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 563

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

A/N: Since it's Christmas Eve where I am, I thought I would repost the one Christmas themed Peaky Blinders fic I do have. I won't be back to reposting until the 3rd of January (hopefully). I hope everyone has a wonderful and safe Christmas and New Years.

"Good boy," Tommy says as he picks up his oldest child's platter of biscuits and hands them to him. "Put this out for Santa, for his whisky."

Y/N smiles from the sofa as she watches her step-son lay the platter of biscuits they had baked earlier in the day near the fireplace as Tommy sets a glass of whiskey next to it for Santa.

"Alright off to bed now, Charlie. Say goodnight to Y/N and your sister," Tommy orders the young boy.

"Goodnight, Rosie. Goodnight, Y/N," He kisses his newborn sister's head before kissing his stepmother's cheek.

"Goodnight, Sweetheart, sleep well," Y/N smiles as he walks out of the room to go to bed.

Tommy stands and walks over to the sofa, where he sits next to his wife, who is cradling their three-month-old daughter. He leans back against the back of the sofa, his arm across her shoulders, admiring the two most important ladies in his life.

Last Christmas, neither of them could have predicted this moment. Their romance was a whirlwind. They'd met last November, when Y/N moved from Norwich to London, carrying the shame of a divorce after finding her husband cheating with his brother's wife. The two immediately bonded, discovering something in each other that they couldn't find in anybody else.

In January, their friendship grew into something more, and at the end of March, they found out she was pregnant. Three weeks later, they married in a tiny ceremony attended only by Tommy's family.

Rosemary Anne Shelby was born in early October with a strong set of lungs. Her cries were loud enough to alert the entire hospital that she had arrived. The baby is a spitting image of her father, with Tommy's dark hair, mesmerising blue eyes, and button nose, but she was also showing signs of having her mother's attitude, especially her stubbornness, which Y/N claims she receives from both her and Tommy.

Charlie loves his new sister and has been devoted to her since before she was born. He wouldn't let Rosie out of his sight during the first few weeks of her life. Bedtime was especially challenging for the small family. When Charlie learned the baby was safe in Tommy and Y/N's bedroom with them, everything calmed down. Both Tommy and Y/N have been amazed by Charlie's connection with Rosie. They had been worried that Charlie wouldn't take well to no longer being the only child.

Tommy breaks the silence in the room by stating, "This is our first Christmas together."

"It is," Y/N smiles happily, her head resting on her husband's shoulder. She hadn't expected her life to turn out this way, but she wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.

She loves their daughter, she loves Charlie as much as she would if he were biologically hers, and she loves Tommy more than any other man she has ever loved before him.

Tommy kisses her head and stares down at his sleeping daughter in her mother's arms. "You put her in her crib while I make sure Charlie is in bed, and then I'll meet you in our bed."

"All right," she kisses him and stands up, taking care not to wake the baby.

Tommy stands up and follows her up the stairs, going into Charlie's room as she makes her way into their bedroom to put Rosie in her crib.

TAGGED: @girlwith-thepearlearring | @isabbellagonzalezz18 | @forgottenpeakywriter | @rainydayteacups | @bernelflo

#acewritesfics repost #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby

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yellowbunnydreams · 10 months

Text

Bunny Ears (Part 7) ~William Afton X F! Reader~

~Sorry for the very silly previous part, it was part of a headcannon me and friend had and it was too good to not write about. *Cue 'was that the bite of '87?!' Meme here*~

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Tag List: @ruh--roh-raggy @h4nluv @sleepy---head @do-double-g @confiscated-peaches-main @dij-ology @viviennemuerte @robin-the-enby @shari-berri @randymeeksisafinalgirl @hallow1090

Cw: CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 30's), divorce/processing divorce, Afton being a sarcastic hot ass, Henry being such a dad, grumpy x sunshine . Faz-Fuck TM

Half-way through the day, you were only half-way through your shift and you felt as if you could curl up and go to sleep then and there, but you knew you were in for a late night anyway since you still had to wait to be driven home. Henry had been taking you a lot more lately, but tonight he was going to his kid's recital and so you had to wait for Afton, although he was going to be working late in the parts and services room and so you would have to hang around and wait for him.

Looking at the drink in your hand, you went into the staff fridge and grabbed some more water, humming as you moved along the back corridors and kept out of the way of people. Nodding to people as you went past, it was a strangle quiet day at Freddy's. But apparently the local school had a big recital on that night so most kids were there, you almost wondered if William wouldn't be going to his daughter's.

Knocking on the door to parts and services, you peered in cautiously. "Are you decent this time William?" you jokingly called out and you heard his deep rumbling laugh in response.

"Depends on what you find decent, sweetheart." He felt the grin spreading across his face as your silence filled his ears, knowing that your cheeks were flushing and you were getting that slightly glazed look as he put the thought in your head.

"But if you mean am I wearing clothes and not shorts today, yes, yes I am very much decent." He chuckled, hearing you step into the room and letting the door close softly behind you. Appearing from behind a shelf with a bottle of water in your hand, smiling in that way that made his chest tight and his body ache to have you curled against him.

"I brought this for you, I figured you would probably be thirsty."

"Cheers sweetheart, I didn't realise the time honestly." He admitted, looking at his watch and smiling at the little bunny bracelet sat just beneath it, knowing you would see he was still wearing it too. Taking the bottle and unscrewing it, gulping down half the bottle in one breath before he gasped for air, feeling better for the cool water as he wiped his brow with his forearm. Not caring as it almost got on his shirt sleeve that had been rolled up as he focused on the animatronic hand in front of him again.

Frowning, you look at your own watch and then back at William, hands on your hips as you realise this was one of the rare times your head was above his whilst he was hunched over and working.

"Do you even eat whilst you're here William?" You asked, not noticing the slight pause as you said his name, turning and raising an eyebrow at you as he sat back in his seat, crossing his arms for a moment and assessing you before he leaned forwards to work again.

"You're spending too much time around Henry, he's being a bad influence." William scoffed, reaching for a fine tipped screwdriver from the bench and reaching into the mechanism he was tinkering with, slowly and carefully turning the pin-fine screw that he hoped would still be stable enough to support the connection he had put it in.

"Oh and you're a perfect influence?" You ask cheekily, smiling at him as you watched him work, leaning in to get a better look at what he was working on.

"Didn't you know I was a perfect school boy growing up? Would never do anything naughty, especially with an innocent young lady like yourself present." Chuckling as he finally managed to get the screw to the perfect tightness and was about to start tightening another nearby, placing down one screwdriver for another as you spoke up.

"What makes you think I'm so innocent William?" You'd stepped closer and almost whispered it against his ear, not close enough to be considered intimate, but your breath barely scraped his ear and he froze. It was your turn to break him as he felt every muscle tense in his body at your words, swallowing hard as a different kind of ache burned in his stomach instead. Clenching his fists and unclenching them as he slowly turned the swivel chair to face you.

His eyes that were usually such a silvery grey seemed almost charcoal under the light as he looked up at you, his expression totally serious despite there being a little sparkle inside them still. You watched his adams apple bob repeatedly, his hands clenching slightly as you stood before him and his eyes seemed to slowly trail up your body. Your stomach sank as you wondered if you had pushed your friendliness too far with him.

"I suppose I deserve that for making you so flustered all the time." He swallowed, averting his eyes from you as you felt guilty at his expression, shoulders sagging slightly and fingers intertwining together and keeping your eyes down on the floor. William ran his hands through his hair and sighed, his head tipped back slightly as he closed his eyes.

"You've got the worst of both us," he joked, opening his eyes and noticing your quizzical look as he tipped his head towards you. "you're caring like Henry and you've now developed my flir-....humour." he said, catching himself before he called it flirting. He was struggling, and he looked at his hands himself.

"I don't think either of them are bad things." You say softly, coming in close to him and nudging him with your shoulder playfully, your fingers brushing against his arm as he looked at you. "I like your...humour, William. I'm sorry I caught you off guard."

"Apology accepted sweetheart, I guess I just wasn't expecting it to come from you." he spoke softly, letting his hand come up and meet yours briefly like some forbidden touch. His ring catching the low light, making you feel ashamed all over again.

"Still friends?" You asked hopefully, your brow furrowed in concern as he gave you a sweet, lopsided smile.

"I wasn't aware we'd stopped."

It became part of your ritual during your shifts after that. For the next two weeks you brought William water and home-made packed lunches, claiming you'd made extra by mistake and it would only go to waste otherwise. Spending what time you could listening to him talking about his projects whilst you both ate, or him listening to you complain about working with the general public. The kids could be great, but the parents could be nightmares, and he fully understood where you were coming from.

But it was a Saturday once again, and the place heaved with children and grown-ups alike. You'd been running around on your feet all day and you were sure your hair was a mess, face an intense smile or locked in concentration unless something snapped you out of it.

A kid came running up to you, although they didn't scream for attention like some kids so you crouched down and spoke to them softly and evenly. "Are you lost kiddo?"

"No..." Their voice was very soft, clearly nervous that you had taken the time to speak to them rather than them being able to run off again. "You're miss spring-bonnie aren't you?"

You blinked at the question, your cheeks heating up as you were asked and tried to think about how to answer.

"Can you clarify what you mean buddy? Like.. how am I miss Spring-Bonnie?"

"You helped him when he fell over!" The kid beamed and suddenly you understood what they meant, chuckling as you nodded. They lit up as you answered and grinned at you leaning in and whispering to you conspiratorially in the loud way that only children could do. "Will you say hello to him for me?"

"Of course! I'm now going to see him, so I'll say hello then." Watching the kid running off and skipping happily as you headed through to the breakroom. Grabbing your lunches out and some sodas as you walked through the back-halls.

The route to parts and services was familiar now, and you knocked on the heavy door to let William know that you were coming in as you stepped through, his head barely turning as he focused intently on the endoskeleton sat between his knees. Shoulders clamped between his knees as he deftly worked on the wires in the head, you carefully stepped around him and placed his lunch down, opening the box and cracking the drink for him so that he could get straight to eating when he was done. Not having to wait long before you heard the creak of metal and a grunt from William as he hefted the metal skeleton onto a stand opposite where he was working.

"This looks great! Thanks for bringing me this, although I'm suspicious about how much you 'overcook'." He said playfully, his hand brushing your back as he raised an eyebrow at you, making you blush and look at your feet before you spotted a clean spot on the workbench, jumping up onto it and sitting facing him as he remained standing, stretching himself out slightly.

"No, really, I'm just shit at measuring whilst cooking." You lied slightly, whilst you weren't the best cook in the world, you were fairly good at estimating only how much would feed you. But you were happy to be cooking extras and that he seemed to be enjoying them.

Eating in silence for the most part, you were always surprised how quickly he ate. Like he was starving or simply that he was worried somebody might take his food from him if he didn't eat it then and there. Taking a swig of his soda, William smiled and placed his hand next to your thigh, making you think he was picking something off the bench next to you.

"Thank you, bunny." he spoke softly, closing the small gap between you and planting a kiss on your lips, leaving you breathless despite the briefness of it. Taking a second to comprehend what happened just as it took William a second to realise too.

"Did..Did you just kiss me?" You asked, blinking and reaching up to your lips and brushing them with your fingers as you watched William's face fall at the same time he looked relieved.

"I guess..I did, didn't I?" He asked, clarifying you were both on the same page. He rubbed his face and groaned into his hands, thinking about how you would react to him making an impulsive move.

"You stole my first kiss." You murmured, making William's head snap up, still covering his mouth with his hands and looking at your expression for any signs of joking, but when he saw none he groaned louder and ran his hands over his face again, one going into his hair and staying there.

"Shit, I am so, so sorry." Afton felt his heart pounding in his chest as he realised what he'd done, he'd taken your first kiss. You'd just looked so right sat on his workbench and bringing him lunches that were clearly made with love, and he'd acted impulsively as he thought that the time might never be as perfect as the peace the two of you had carved out in the workshop.

"Why are you sorry?" Your voice broke him out of his thought spiral, looking back up at you and adjusting his glasses, seeing you smiling at him in the way that made his chest tight and his stomach flutter nervously, so vulnerable and trusting.

"You're not mad?" Swallowing softly as you shook your head in reply, he took a careful step towards you again. His hand going back to where it had been whilst the other hovered over you shoulder, breathing deeply and raggedly as you saw the darkness that you had seen once before back in his eyes. Hungry, untamed as he met yours. "Then... Can I kiss you again?"

Instead of answering him, you placed your hand against his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips and how he leaned his head into your hand slightly, shuffling forwards and your knees sitting either side of his hips as you leant up slightly. William smiled and placed his large hand on your cheek and kissed you back, tender and soft despite the fact his beard scratched slightly at your skin. Taking your breath away again as suddenly all those thoughts you had had where you thought he was handsome, or a million and one times you had stared at him and wondered how his hands felt against you felt justified.

Pulling back after a moment, William placed his forehead against yours, catching his breath and allowing you to as well. You suddenly broke out into a grin and giggled, remembering what the kid had said to you earlier, William raising an eyebrow in question.

"A kid called me 'Miss Spring-Bonnie' earlier, apparently they were psychic." William snorted a laugh out as well, pulling his forehead away and leaving his hand on your face, thumb stroking over your cheek and feeling how soft you were beneath him.

"Oh, you're all ready to be 'Miss Spring-Bonnie' are you, little bunny?" He teased, making your cheeks flush hot at the comment and he chuckled again, leaning in and taking another quick peck from your lips. "How about we seal that with a kiss before you go back to work?"

And you happily obliged as you pressed your lips to yours once again.

#springtrap #springtrap x reader #steve raglan #steve raglan x reader #william afton x reader #william afton #william afton x you #william afton smut #fnaf movie #fnaf x reader

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mybelovedwoo · 1 year

Text

i'm glad i have you with me

bff!san x f!reader

fluff, comfort, childhood best friends to lovers (slow burn) / wc:1.3k

warnings: cheating, crying, swear words, cuddling

note: so tell me how you liked this one. i am a bit nervous because this is my first non-wooyoung fic, but i really enjoyed writing it. please stay tuned in the future for other members' fics too. if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

san masterlist - main masterlist

Sitting on a couch at a house party all alone with people you don't know, there's literally any other place you would rather be. Originally you came with you're boyfriend Seungjun, but you haven't seen him in hours. You weren't much of a party person, but this time you accompanied him, because he begged you for days for it, but now you are starting to regret it honestly.

You take out your phone from your back pocket, but before you open it, you look around once more to see if your boyfriend pops up somewhere, you are out of luck, so after you unlocked it, the first thing you open is your messages. Your fingers linger over Seungjun's name, but it says he's been unavailable for hours, no shit Sherlock, you think. Instead, you scroll down a bit and open the messages for your best friend, San.

You know well that he probably not gonna answer, because it's Saturday night, and he is most definitely out with his friends too. You don't care, you try it anyway, he is your best chance to rescue you out of this hell. "Hey, San." is the first you send, you're not sure what to write him, you don't want to bother him. "What are you doing?" you wait a few minutes, but he's not responding, his phone is probably on mute. "I'm kinda bored, I don't know where Seungjun went. I need your rescue ㅠㅠ." Nothing, no response. You feel really annoyed at this point, but not because San, poor boy did nothing wrong, it is just a bad moment. "You know what I'm gonna look for Seungjun. Don't worry and have fun." You lock your phone and put it back in your back pocket.

You look around the kitchen, then in the yard, but you don't see him anywhere. You are getting kinda worried that maybe he left you there. At last, you walk up the stairs, the hallway is full of kissing couples, who must have only met tonight. The moment you enter one of the rooms, you regret everything you did until now. Your boyfriend was there with another girl you had never seen before, doing things you never expected him to do with anyone except for you.

You didn't know what to do in the big shock, but you didn't speak up, maybe they didn't even notice you or just didn't care. But you turned around and hurried down the stairs, unable to control your tears. You just needed some fresh air, you had to get out of this place immediately. You crashed out of the entrance of the house and fell down to the stairs. Sitting there you didn't even think, you were already calling San. This is urgent now.

Your phone didn't even ring for two seconds when they already answered it. "Hey Y/N, is everything okay? I'm sorry my phone was on mute I haven't seen your texts. Have you found Seungjun? Wait, are you crying?" You couldn't even speak, though you wanted to tell him everything. "Y/N please say something! What happened? Are you hurt?" You took three big breaths to calm yourself down enough to talk a few words. "He cheated on me. Could you come to pick me up?" You didn't have to say more. "I've already sat in the car the minute I saw your messages, don't worry. I'll be there soon."

He wasn't lying, he got there in record time. You watched as he pulled up with his car to the driveway of the house. When he gets out of the car, is only when you get up from the stairs you've been sitting on. San rushed towards you at a high speed, so you didn't have time to move even an inch in his way.

"Where is that dickhead?" He asked with blunt words when he got to you. He seemed really angry, maybe even angrier than you, you had never in your life seen him like this before. You shrugged, implying that you don't know and don't care either. But that was not enough for him. "Is he still inside there?" You started to get a little worried.

"I think so. But please don't make a scene, let's just go home." You pulled him through his forearm when he already started walking to the entrance. "Wait for me in the car, okay? I'll be quick, I'm not gonna do anything he doesn't deserve, I swear." He said to you, while he stroked your face with his right hand. You hesitated, but who are you to tell him what to do, so you went up to his car and sat on the passenger side for like five minutes.

At this point you didn't care much about waiting a little longer, that's what you did all night long. San slammed the door behind himself, and somehow he looked even angrier than before. He got in the car next to you and when he looked at you his expression softened. "What did you do?" You asked him with a sobby voice. "I just showed him where he belonged. Let's just say he went swimming." You look down at his hands and you see it's all bruised up.

He started the engine. "San, I don't wanna go home. What if he comes there?" You didn't know what to do, since he had a key to your apartment. You couldn't bare to see his face once more.

"We're going to my place." He didn't even hesitate. You slept at his place many times now, but not since you started dating Seungjun. San was worried when you found out you are going to different colleges, he was afraid that you wouldn't spend as much time together as you used to. But you thought that was nonsense since you have been best friends since you were very little, you grew up together.

He never liked Seungjun, he always said he didn't deserve you. But he was your first boyfriend, and you were blinded with love, at least that's what you thought. Looking back, you also know that he didn't treat you well, but you don't know that when you're in it.

Entering San's apartment, all you could think about was that you needed to get some sleep asap. Weariness hit you the moment you got hit by the heat of the comfortable room. You didn't want to bother San with your presence, you don't know what plans he had.

You've been quite comfortable in here, so you decided to lie down on the couch in the living room. "What are you doing?" Asked San, entering the room with a glass of water in his hand.

"Sleeping. I'm really tired." You mumbled, not able to speak properly.

"You can't sleep here. Go to my room, there is my bed. I'll sleep on the couch." You sat up at his statement. "No, you can't. This is your place." There's no way you letting him sleep out here in the cold living room when he has his own warm bed just a room away. "Let's sleep both in the bed. I think it's big enough for the both of us." You said. It's not like this is the first time you sleep in the same bed, you always fell asleep next to each other when you were little.

"Are you sure?" He hesitated. "We are not so small anymore." The joke made you both laugh, it made his heart clench to see you happy again.

After you took a warm shower, he gave you a big shirt of his and a jogger pant that was definitely too big for you. You got under the cover, San was already there, lying down. He turned off the lamp on the bedside table, which illuminated the whole room until now.

As soon as it got dark your eyes started watering again, you remember everything that happened today. All of a sudden, you feel a pair of hands slip on your waist. San hugged you tightly from behind. "I got you." He whispered in your ears. He didn't let go of you all night long, you woke up in the same position the next morning.

#san #ateez #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez imagine #choi san #san x reader #ateez san #ateez san fluff #childhood best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #slowburn romance #san x you #san comfort #bff san #san imagine #ateez fanfic

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bellarkeselection · 6 months

Text

1 - Long Time No See

Part 2

The Sheriff’s Daughter

Tag list ( send an ask to be added ) @child-of-of-the-sunshine @hcwthewestwaswcn

Pushing the main door opened that belonged to the Sheriff’s department of Montana. I walked past the front desk to my fathers office door lightly kicking it open rather than knocking. “Morning daddy, so what cases do we have to work on today?”

“Nothing too serious for now, honey. I mostly just have paperwork needing to be filled out.” My father said leaning forward in his chair at his wooden desk. A stack of papers was in front of him from previous cases needing to be documented.

I sit down in the seat on the other side of his desk. “Well I can help you with some of the paperwork.”

“You don’t have to do that. Trust me you do enough here already. Much more than your mother or sister care for.” He raised a hand grabbing a pen beginning to fill them out.

From my junior year of high school I knew that I wanted to help my father and be in the police department like he was. My sister Debbie and our mother weren’t big fans of the concept and still aren’t to this day. Only difference is now I am old enough to do whatever I want regardless of their approval. “Daddy, from the day I turned 16 I knew I wanted to be like you. Let me help you please.”

“Honey, I just don’t want you to be missing out on life cause of this job. You’re a great help but remember to live your life outside of work too.” My father removed his hat, sending me a smile.

Sending him a smile back. “I know that, daddy.”

“Excuse me, sir.” We both turned our heads seeing his front desk assistant standing in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation. But Mr. Dutton is here to pick up his updated gun permit paperwork.”

My father Donnie raised a brow. “John?”

“No, sir. It’s his son Kayce.” She answered his question.

I nearly jumped up where my head hit the ceiling and I knocked the wooden chair down where it clattered to the floor. “Kayce’s back in town.” She stepped out of the way when I bolted past her down the short hallway.

“The boss should have everything already filled out for you.” The other front desk assistant spoke towards someone.

I rounded the corner halting in my tracks and the boots I was wearing shrieked against the ground. I gasped slapping my hands on the sides of my hips not expecting to see him back here. “Well I’ll be. Look who the horses and cattle dragged in.”

“Y/n! Hey, long time no see.” The younger Dutton turned his head in the direction of my voice, noticing me standing there in some ripped blue jeans and a deputy jacket.

I pushed part of the hair of my ponytail out of my line of sight. “I thought you’d skipped town years ago, Dutton.”

“And leave you permanently to entertain yourself, that'd be a crappy friend of me.” Kayce strides over to me holding open his arms and we embrace the other in a warm hug. Kayce and I had been ready close back in school. Not exactly what you would call a best friend but we were almost close to being that until he got a girl pregnant and we lost touch after that.

I remember the last time we were really close with one another…I’ll always remember it.

The school bell rang and everyone came rushing out of the local Montana high school with me heading outside looking for my father’s truck. That afternoon was very important for my father since he would find out if he had become the new sheriff or not. Sitting down on the metal bench outside I put my backpack down at my feet. “Y/n, what are you still doing here?”

“Waitin’ for my father to pick me up.” Whipping my head around I saw Kayce come out of the back door of the school carrying his duffel bag on his left shoulder.

He gestured with his freehand to the side of the bench that I wasn’t using. “Can I sit?”

“Sure.” Scooting over I made room for him where we sat down next to each other.

He leans back on the seat. “I’m surprised to not see Bridget or Marlowe with you.”

“Marlowe is at home sick and Bridget has cheerleading practice. What about you, cowboy. What are you doing?” I asked him with a curious look on my face.

The son of a rancher answered. “I was heading home. My father and I need to talk about something…something that might change quite a few things depending on how he reacts.”

“Hopefully your father won’t be too angry with whatever you did. And don’t worry if things go south I’ll have your back.” I nudged his shoulder with mine chuckling lightly at him.

Kayce ran a hand through his curly brown hair. “So you’re really gonna work for the sheriff’s department?”

“If I’m lucky enough, yes.” Clasping my hands together in front of me, shifting my gaze up to meet his deep brown eyes feeling my face turning red. “Kayce, can I tell you something?”

He nodded his head simply yes. “Anything.”

“Kayce, I have been thinking lately and I…I think I might be starting to have feelings for y-” I get cut off short when a truck horn honked and we both turned our heads towards the sound.

My father’s truck was parked there with him rolling down the window. “Y/n!, are you ready to go?”

“Uh coming dad.” Snatching my bag off the ground and on my back I waved bye to the rancher. “I'll see you later, Dutton.”

Kayce waved bye to me. “Bye Haskell.” Shutting the passenger truck door I slumped down in my seat glancing back at him outside my window as we drove off considering that was the day I realized I should have told him how I felt sooner.

Kayce and I separated from each other still holding the same familiar smile after seeing the other years later. Kayce stared down at me about to say something before someone came around the front desk. “Dad, when are we going back to the ranch?”

“Dad. You have a kid?” Knitting my brows together I couldn't fathom the words.

He nodded seeing a boy that had similar hair color to him but his eyes were a darker brown. “Hi, I’m Tate. What’s your name?” The kid waved standing beside his father’s hip.

“I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” I waved to the little boy.

Tate moved his head up tugging his father’s sleeve. “Do you want to come see the ranch with us?”

“Oh Tate, I don't think she’s free. She’ll probably have to get back to work.” Kayce trailed off sending me a half smile.

Shrugging my shoulders I cut him off. “I’m not busy at the moment. My father - the sheriff is just filling out paperwork for the afternoon. If he needs me he’ll call me through my radio.”

“Okay then let’s go.” Tate spun around on his feet, he grabbed my wrist trying to drag me outside the door with him.

I gently yanked my wrist from his gesturing my head down the hallway I had come from. “I’ll just double check with my boss and I’ll meet you two out at your dads truck okay.”

“Sounds good. Come on, kid.” Kayce pushed Tate towards the door, sparing a glance at me before I went around the corner back to my father’s office.

Knocking on the sheriff office door, creaking it open slightly, seeing my father was still working on his paperwork. “Dad, I’ll be back later. Heading to the Dutton ranch.”

“Be careful out there. The Dutton’s are known to be trouble.” He sent me a look.

I sent him a military salute without another word to him. “Don’t I know it.” We had to cover up more of their problems then any other ranch family, but I respected what they did to keep their land.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

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jamisonwritestf2trash · 8 months

Note

hiiii hiiii!!! was curious :3 how's it gooinnnng?? uh, feeling booooooorooooooored got any fun headcanons you have floating around the space station?? :3

It's going well enough, Anon! I finally got around to this! Sorry it took me so long, I've been having a hard time doing things. But never mind that! Here's a mixed bag of headcanons!

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Medic can make a killer hot chocolate. The only issue being, he will NOT elaborate on why he's so happy and eager to make you one.. He'll hand you the most beautifully decorated hot chocolate, but he stares at you with the most terrifying smile, staring through your soul. You should drink it, though, what's the worst that can happen.

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Speaking of Medic. This man would be a menace at Diner Dash. I can not explain. He'd just be so good at it. Put him in endless mode, and he'd play it for hours, you could not get him to put it down.

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Speaking of video games, Scout is insane at Mario Kart. He will kill you on Rainbow Road, you will not win against him, he's a maniac. He mains Peach. Also, funny enough, even though he has so many siblings, none of them would play Mario Kart with him. He may have teared up because Pyro asked to play with him.

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You know what, I'll just drop everyone's Mario Kart mains and their second option with no explanations!

Demo would main Yoshi, Dry Bones being his second

Engie would pick Daisy, dying on this kill. Um, as a second pick I get Lakitu vibes.

Heavy would choose Bowser, Luigi being his second

Medic switches between the princesses, but mainly Rosalina, King Boo being his second.

Scout is a Peach main ONLY, if he is alone! (One time, he messed up and picked Peach before anyone else could and was very embarrassed.) If he's playing with others, he picks Mario, Larry being his second.

Sniper doesn't care. He'd probably let someone else pick for him. He normally gets a princess character, but he doesn't mind.

Spy is always picking rose gold Peach, regardless of Scout's mocking. He doesn't need a second pick because he'll get pissy about it.

Soldier doesn't have a set main, but I feel like he'd pick any of Bowser's kids.

Pyro is a Shy Guy main, and I am so normal about it, Bowser Jr. Is its second pick.

None of them really fight over mains though, the all normally get the character they want.

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Totally away from all of that. I think Spy listens to classical music, and Scout also likes classical music so one time, Scout heard it from Spy's room and just came in, starting to make fun of him, but ended up just... sitting with Spy. I think a lot of their bonding is nonverbal.

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Hey, I'm doing another speaking of bit, Spy has a habit of showing up at the exact moment someone needs something, with the item. Medic needs a coffee? Oh well, Spy just happened to be there with one. Scout's looking for something? Spy just found it! How strange. He always acts like its such an inconvenience, this is the only way he can show love.

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Scout, Sniper, Medic, and Soldier all have sensory and texture issues.

Scout will gag at the thought of eating puddings and jellos and can't stand flashing lights. Sniper hates bright lights and hates the texture of anything slimy. Medic is overwhelmed by noises in crowds and can't stand sticky foods. Soldier has issues with fabrics and tags and can't stand soft/smooth.

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Back to Spy again, I think he really likes the smell of lilacs and vanilla, I don't know why.

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Scout once ran out of Bonk, Medic offered him a tea. Medic and Scout drink tea together when one of them has a bad day.

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Engie collects rocks. He's just always been a fan. Sometimes, he'll sit outside the base, looking at the ground just searching for pretty rocks. He's given some to Pyro before, and now Pyro goes and sits with him sometimes.

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Sniper's happiest moments in life are genuinely sitting in a dark room, not talking, just sitting with someone he cares about. He finds the presence of someone more comforting than words.

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You know those gimmick blogs that can identify something from one picture? Heavy can tell you exactly what book any quote is from.

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Pyro, Demo, and Soldier collect fireflies together sometimes.

Anyways! That's all I have for now. Sorry, they aren't anything major or great. But writing them made me smile, so thank you for that, anon!

I'm hoping I'm finally back to writing because this reminded me how fun it is.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 demoman #tf2 engineer #tf2 heavy #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #tf2 soldier #tf2 pyro #tf2 headcanons

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hazelfoureyes · 7 months

Note

Do you think you could do a male version of the radioapple is the safe word? Or maybe just a gender neutral pronouned story? I adore it so much

of course! I am happy to adapt my stories whenever possible 🥺✨ sometimes I can’t but this one was an easy enough shift! didn’t tag the horny deer cult, this is the same story but with the hardware swapped out. Will tag in new pieces 🙏 warning; I almost exclusively watch femboy gay porn and it shows

The Safeword is RadioApple (Part 1)

(RadioApple x MaleReader)

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, smut, RadioApple in a sense, male reader, creampie, breath play, rough sex, Alastor is an eternal little shit, soft jazz, hard jazz, Luci calls himself Daddy, 🗣️ READER GETS SPITROASTED, threesome, asshole hulk smashed, half assed blowjob, help I got too horny on main

MINORS DNI BRUH

“Sir.”

“I aim to please! Now,” Alastor gestured to the stairs, “I, unfortunately, need to show you something upstairs.”

“Ha!” Lucifer forced out a laugh, “Ha. Haaa- Not a chance, scarecrow. Find someone else to search for your brain.” He smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie? I made a joke.”

With a pout, he dramatically crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll play nice, for you. Not for him.” Lucifer glared daggers at Alastor. “Fuck him.”

“Daaad!” She groaned.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.”

He took a step in, willingly, and as he saw you sitting in the center of the bed in just your sleep robe, he let out a quiet, “What the fuck is this?”

Then a louder, “Heeey, kitten…”. The sound of the door locking made his head whip back to Alastor, teeth bared.

“Luci.”

Softened under the sound of his own name from your lips he brought his attention back to the bed.

Everyone was also aware you were Alastor’s person. And Alastor would give you anything you wanted in death; and today you happened to want Luci.

Soon enough you were a regular member of the Hazbin Hotel core crew, by way of Alastor.

That’d been some months ago now, and you finally had the courage to ask Alastor for a special favor.

For Alastor, sharing you physically wasn’t an issue. Sex was something he did for your pleasure, though he did enjoy the control he held over you in those intimate moments.

“You can say no.” You added quickly.

“Why would I ever do that?” Lucifer continued to smile at you, too sweetly for what you were going to ask.

“Many reasons.” You added quicker.

“Come on, tell Luci.” He laughed softly at the idea of denying you anything.

You pressed the tips of your index fingers together nervously, “I want you to fuck me.”

He tried to blink but his eyelids only seemed to rise further and further up his face with every attempt.

“You what now?”

His eyes darted to Alastor, who was now crawling onto the bed and settling behind you.

“It was a fairly straightforward statement, sir.” Alastor’s tone was always teetering on mocking when he addressed Lucifer, “My dear would like you, for some god awful reason, to bed him.”

If this hadn’t been such a shock, Lucifer would have quipped, “Oh because you can’t, you overdressed maitre d’?”

“I thought-,” he motioned between the two of you.

You nodded, “Alastor is happy when I’m happy. And right now, I’d be overjoyed to spend an evening taking care of you.”

Oh, why couldn’t you have said it so sweetly the first time? Take care of him? You always did. Every time he felt something lacking he’d find you close behind offering him just the thing.

Whether a smile, or supportive word, or just a sympathetic ear.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawled toward Lucifer. His face was flush, his brows knitted together in some mix of worry and confusion.

“I don’t have to do anything, ever, Luci,” Alastor’s grin widened as you said it. A hum of approval only he could hear. A silent, ‘That’s my boy.’

“This is about what I want.” You leaned up to rest your cheek in his open palm, “I’ll accept any answer from you.” Your eyes staring up at him promised safety, “So, what do you want?”

Hilarious. Already worth the price of admission.

You felt him gasp into you, and when you began to open his shirt he pulled away, “It’s been… a very long time.”

He was painfully hard, throbbing head pressed into his skin. Your own cock twitched under your robe at the feeling.

Alastor fought back a laugh, tongue nearly cut clean off with the attempt. This was better than he had expected. And he had just the idea to push it over the top.

When your head dipped to swipe your tongue over Lucifer’s cock, you both startled at the sudden sound of music. First you looked to the radio, then to Alastor.

One hand was loosening his bow tie, the other unbuckling his pants.

“Don’t stop on my accord,” he bit his bottom lip, watching your attention return to Lucifer’s lap.

Lucifer raised a finger in protest, “I wasn’t aware this was a group activity.”

“The more the merrier.” Alastor whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor, other hand pulling his member free.

“Three’s a crowd.”

“Two heads are better than one.” When Alastor lifted your robe away and sunk himself into you, hole soft and ready for him already, you moaned into the blonde hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock.

“You okay, kitten?” A concerned hand came to your cheek.

Alastor’s hand raked long nails down your back, a whine ran from your throat and down Lucifer’s shaft. He moaned in turn, trying to not connect the dots between himself and Alastor.

“See? He can handle more than you’d expect.” Alastor grinned, planting a kiss on your neck. You could see Lucifer watching through your wet eyelashes, his cock twitching repeatedly as his hand finally came down to touch himself.

With the hand not holding onto Alastor’s wrist at your throat, you reached out for Lucifer. “Luci.”

Alastor let you fall forward. Keeping your hips in the air and knees dangling just above the comforter, he continued his rough pace into your tight heat. Pulling your body on and off of his length with harsh drags he watched you lick from the base to the top of Lucifer’s member. Each thrust from him knocking your chin against it.

Tempting.

But, he promised to play along, for you. And he would, at his own terms.

Your hands began pumping Lucifer’s length while your body was slightly dragged away as Alastor backed up and let your knees find some solid ground again.

Alastor smirked up at Lucifer, coming down over your back to reach around your body and find your dick, now pulsing under his hand. Immediately, you reacted. Legs squeezing together, hands stilling around your king’s cock. With a bite and lick to your shoulder blade, the radio demon set a bruising pace against you. That warmth in your core was spreading down as you felt him press against your g-spot with every kiss of his hips.

You choked out his name, a chant Lucifer had never wanted to hear before now. How could you make Alastor’s name sound so delicious? He wrapped his fingers around yours on his dick and began moving with you. Your eyes rolled up to him, a weak smile forming before your orgasm made your face tighten. Alastor knew your body so well, bringing you to orgasm was like playing a well practiced song on the piano. Both required strong and fast fingers and a sense of rhythm. His hands working your shaft, fingers ghosting over your balls and head with every stroke up and down.

With a few more deeper, shorter moves Alastor stilled, too. Your knees slid down as your hips sank into the bed, your own release sticky and already cooling under you.

Lucifer let your hand go limp, swallowing hard. He wasn’t ignorant to the way Alastor smiled at him as he reclined into the headboard, tucking himself back into his pants.

Luci took a deep breath, steadying himself mentally, before pushing the hair from your forehead, “Hey there, kitten. What do ya need?”

“Is it okay?” You asked, spreading the thick fluid between your fingers in front of Luci.

Something between a grimace and a pout came over him, it wasn’t his ideal situation but the idea of — just how much he’d slip and slide in and out of your with the added lubrication made him feel feral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Alastor hoped to ruin you and sour his experience. He decided to not allow it.

With a kiss to his nose, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lied back. You weren’t sure you were breathing anymore when you felt his scorching head slot up with your entrance. He rubbed the leaking fluid over himself and you with swipes up and down your ass, teasing your entrance with every pass. The difference between his heat and the cooled cum made him shiver in turn.

As he began to press into you, your body instinctively scooted away. It took both of your hands hooked under his arms to stay still enough for him to make any real headway.

Alastor brought a hand to his face, red eyes peering between his spread fingers, smile threatening to break at the seams as he watched Lucifer Morningstar fucking his cum into his darling dear.

What a pitiful sight. How humiliating.

What would Charlie think of her big bad daddy? What would the other sins say? If they could see their king now, slick and shiny?

Your nails cut into his skin, and you were worried you were tearing slightly. Instead of attempting to thrust his way in, he chose to just continually press. The way your body seemed to be splitting made you second guess your decisions. But when his head finally popped in, your bullied boy cunt got some reprieve. He stopped, taking deep breaths.

Tears were collecting on your waterline, Luci noticed and leaned on an elbow to wipe them away. His blonde hair was falling forward now, tickling at your forehead.

He leaned back on both hands, using the position to fucked up into you at an angle. He knew very well where to hit to begin gathering your pleasure.

Alastor dropped his head, yours between his legs. His hair made a short curtain, hiding the look he was giving you from Luci. He adores the faces you make when you are happy. Excited. Pleasured. You tried to offer him a smile, but you couldn’t manage it for long. Your eyes would roll back, lips tighten as you focused on the feeling Luci was providing. Focused on the sensations, of being so full, so sticky wet, so wanted. But Alastor was still watching, the sight of Luci blocked from his view as he enjoyed every little twitch of your mouth, every whimper.

Sitting up, Luci adjusted your legs and slotted himself between them. Alastor leaned back, relinquishing your focus. Both of you looked at Luci though as one of his hands came to enclose your throat.

Alastor was almost impressed. Almost. You brought both hands to wrap around his wrist, glancing to Alastor behind you.

The words came out of Alastor as half warning, half instruction, “If he needs you to stop, he’ll tap two fingers twice on you, wherever he can reach.” Lucifer nodded, eyes not meeting Alastor’s. He kept them on your face, watching for any sign of distress as he tightened his grip. The way your muscles clenched around him earned you a hiss.

He began to move again, the new position causing his stomach to rut against your returning erection as he buried himself in you. More clenching; He tightened his grip more.

“Are you sure he isn’t hurting?” Luci asked, your eyes closed and nails digging into his wrists.

“Nonsense. Can’t you feel him? Or does he just grip me like that?” The cocky expression made Luci unconsciously clench his fist on your neck. A gentle tap tap snapped him back to you. He loosened up again, his eyes large and apologetic.

You unconsciously tightened your own grip on his dick, grinding up into him for more friction. Your body had finally relaxed, pleasure freely flowing from where you and Luci tangled together. You closed your eyes, the pressure constant on the veins to your head. Blood flow restricted just enough to lower your oxygen levels and raise the nitrogen oxide in your body. It resulted in a dizzying feeling, maybe there was a primal panic that caused your body to feel heightened pleasure. You didn’t feel scared, or in danger. You felt —— ah there it was. You felt weak. You felt docile. You felt like you existed purely to give pleasure and the idea turned you on. In every day life you’d never allow someone to use you, to push you around. You were anything but subservient. That’s why it was so enthralling now. It was so strange a sensation. And to give yourself so fully to the king of hell, the originator of all sin? You groaned, head rolling back.

Luci watched your head loll, drank in your groans and gasps and felt himself get dizzy too. More. Say his name like you did Alastor’s. Praise how well he fucked you. Reward him. Love him.

He stopped, unsure, until he felt your hand reach under yourself and rest at the junction of his knee and calf. His other hand came to your right hip, and he used it to keep you from sliding up the bed. Letting his eyes close again, he focused on the feeling of you around him. His crotch and thighs were covered in oil and cum, his balls tight against him. Every drag out of you made his body jerk back into you with need. It felt so good, too good. He needed more. He pressed hard into you, oversized tip of his cock opening parts of you never before reached. He made shorter thrusts now, ensuring he bottomed out every time. It was too deep, too much of a stretch. Your moans slowly devolved into screams, the pleasure mixed with a soft burning.

You could feel him spreading open your body, soft walls helpless to resist his raging member. The feeling of your silky boy cunt sliding along his cock, your tight hole gripping him, was driving him mad.

You were screaming. Actual, pleasured screams, threatening to alert the entire hotel to your activities. Wails that started shrill and dipped into a gutteral cry filled the room with every thrust of Lucifer’s frenzied hips.

A tiny part of your brain felt embarrassed, a dying animal shrieking into Alastor’s thigh.

As Luci became lost in the sensation of your body trying to suck him in whole, his hand on your back began to press down. Your breaths got shorter, it got harder to expand your lungs fully.

Face turned and drooling onto the fabric of Alastor’s pants, you started gasping out his name, “Luci! Nngh Luciiii, Lucifer.”

The yellow of his eyes turned red, just like the skin of your ass where his hip bones chaffed. “You take me so well, kitten.” He ground out, “Daddy’s gonna cum.”

Alastor’s eyes glowed a blood red from the end of the bed, a wickedly devious grin across his face at the opportunity before him, he looked up at Luci and said with a commanding tone, “Cum.”

Luci lied on top of you even after you were full to the brim with his cum. It was already forcing its way out around his softening cock when he managed to roll off of you and onto his back.

Staring at the canopy of the bed, he felt two emotions rise to the surface. First, concern. He turned to you, and you gave a weak thumbs up.

Second, rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Fuck you.” He looked to Alastor, who was grinning as he pet your head, whispering something to you.

“Little late for dirty talk, your highness.”

Lucifer growled, but Alastor’s palm pressed against his forehead and pushed him back down to the bed.

You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath. Body sprawled out on the massive bed like a starfish.

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but couldn’t press you to clarify what exactly that meant before Alastor scooped you up and carried you to the bath.

༻Masterlist༺

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siarven · 3 months

Text

I made this for cara but thought I should use it to FINALLY make a proper pinned post on here! (image descriptions in alt text)

Hello everyone (:

I thought I'd use this to properly re-introduce myself. These days I have a lot going on irl, so I'm not as interactive on here as I used to be. However, I love making new friends and getting to know their projects :D Some of my most important friends are from here, even if most of them are no longer active on writeblr (we have migrated to discord), so if you think we'd vibe pls shoot me a message!!

What you can expect:

Started out as an artblr, then turned into a writeblr, now it's mostly me collecting inspiration, art and writing references, with some infrequent original writing wip/art posts ✴︎ — more info about tags and writing below the cut — ✴︎

✴︎ — #queer tag - I reblog a lot of queer related posts, particularly about aro/ace and gender related topics

✴︎ — #inspirational - art, writing, photography, nature/environmental issues related topics, history, paleontology, archaeology; things I find inspiring and fascinating :D

✴︎ — i love all of the creatures, fictional or real, but less in a "cute videos" and more in a "I love how our world works" type way. I worked at a wildlife sanctuary for a year after school and learned a lot there. one day i will be the forever home for an old cat nobody else wants

✴︎ — sometimes I still post art and or writing, though I guess there'll be more art on Cara if you wanna follow me there (less AI threat)

✴︎ — i study concept art, work as a freelance illustrator, and am currently working on my MA thesis project "Fragments of the Infinite"

✴︎ — my main wip novel (Dream's Shadow) is probably finally getting close to being Finished. Feels somewhat surreal. idk if it's even worth querying it because it really doesn't fit into the current publishing world but it's not actually finished yet anyway so... we can worry about that later

✴︎ — very into fantasy with cool worldbuilding in particular. don't much care for elves/dwarves/.. fantasy preindustrial england type worlds, but dungeon meshi is my current obsession so if it's deeply developed and interesting enough I don't really mind :)

✴︎ — hopepunk my most beloved! i do love when characters get put through the wringer to get to their hopeful ending though. Sometimes, things are tragic in a bittersweet way, and that is okay too

✴︎ — deeply nuanced, complicated, messy morally grey characters driving the narrative

I am open to tag games, but will probably only manage to respond to like 10% of them... it's not you, it's me

Always open for DMs or asks <3

I try to tag everything as well as I can, if i forget, ask to tag <3

If you're into TMA, I have a podcast/TMA blog @moth-song-archives; my rambling animals/shitposts/memes/other fandoms/... blog is @lirhin, and I have a dedicated art blog @siarvenart

a hopepunk dark fantasy story with creepy/horror elements set in another world; small scope that transitions into epic fantasy later on

Status: draft 6.5 completed at 141k; currently mini-beta round. First in a trilogy

✴︎ —1st, 2nd and 3rd person limited, present tense ✴︎ — hopepunk, sibling dynamics, dysfunctional family, power of kindness & love, platonic love, queer characters, queer-embracing worldbuilding, mental & physical trauma, light & dark, secrets, tragedy, lies, betrayal, loss of innocence, holding on & letting go, cute creatures, (in)humanity, trees, religion & belief, growing up, monsters, dreams, nightmares.

When Ava and her parents arrive at the hospital, they find her older brother Ben in a deeply unnatural coma - and nobody can tell them what happened. Despite the magical abilities of the Asim Healers, there seems to be no way to save him. But then, why do they still keep him alive? As Ava slowly learns the magnitude of how terrible Ben's situation (and impossible his future) truly are, she finds herself embroiled in a larger conflict, ready to hook its claws into her as well. And the one person she cares about most - who always had her back - is gone. So despite everything, there's only really one choice: Find out how to save him and try anyways.

the travel journal of a young scientist, documenting the cultures, places, people and creatures she encounters on the way (art/text)

Status: storyboard/script 2nd draft completed; beta feedback

✴︎ —1st person present ✴︎ — 66 double pages of art accompanied by ~10k text ✴︎ — hopepunk, (body) horror, religion & belief, nihilism vs making your own meaning, platonic love, queer characters, queer-embracing worldbuilding, transitioning with magical body horror means, mental & physical trauma, light & dark, deep worldbuilding, eldritch monsters, loss of innocence, SO MANY creatures

Features: a tidally locked planet orbited by 5 moons and populated by giant eldritch monsters; two trans aroace main characters; body horror; so much art; the most gratuitous worldbuilding project; character driven narrative

When the fifth moon hatches during Thorn's own naming ritual, making her one of 2 people who saw it happen, she knows she's been chosen. But back at home, nobody believes what she saw, choosing to instead take the moon's disappearance as a sign of celebration as it mirrors religious scriptures. So Thorn sets out to find physical proof, and uses the opportunity to document her travels. She doesn't know that her view of the world will be thoroughly challenged, but she also doesn't know about the friends she'll make <3

I have various other wips, some of them are linked in my header. I'll return to them at some point, but these 2 are my current projects for 2024:)

#if you wanna connect on cara please come visit :3 #now that i have finished this thing i feel like i can finally actually interact on there lmao #about me #pinned post #writeblr intro #writeblr #idek what i am hoping to accomplish with this but anyway yes XD

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stranger-opinions · 11 days

Text

maybe it's not a writers-block; maybe you just need a break

creativity is a muscle, right?

you need to exercise it to keep it in good shape, to have it ready when you need it and don't we all love those hyperfocused sprints of writing where the words just spill out of our fingertips...

but muscles get sore when you overuse them, will strain when you force them past their limits, they need nourishment to stay healthy and in shape

fandom today has a competitive atmosphere. many wouldn't admit that; it's supposed to be fun after all. just vibing with our mutuals, playing with the blorbos having a fun time online to scratch a few itches.

but the truth is that it can become a lot of pressure rather fast.

putting out several k of (edited) writing a month, setting up painstakingly formatted posts with the right tags and a fun header we spent hours on to look effortlessly cool and eye-catching just to hit post and then feel... nervous. excited too, sure...

but damn, when will the next chapter be finished? or the next one shot? will there be enough time to put a few blubs in between so that the few people who actually seem to care won't forget about us and move on?

writing for writing's sake is a nice notion. the myth of the self-sustaining artist who needs nothing more than a passion and their tools of choice.

but shit isn't just created out of nothing.

what has that all to do with the title of this post do you ask?

very few people can just keep going and going making art like that without needing any breaks and a good portion of those people very likely have very different conditions than most of us have with full-time jobs, families, school and so on.

For many of us writing is a main outlet, an important hobby and a safe space but that still doesn't change that it is a creative hobby, an outlet that demands energy: emotional, mental and physical (typing for hours is hard work if you want to believe it or not) and that sometimes makes it impossible to accept that we just need a fucking break.

"writers-block", in my own experience, is my brain telling me that something is off and that it's on strike until I fucking fix that.

and sometimes it's just that I need a break.

that I need to recharge my creative batteries, take in things that inspire me, that make me happy and get me excited without having to make anything myself. to just be. take some walks amongst trees, watch a new series, read a new book, go into a deep dive of some random topic on wikipedia until I don't know where the fuck I started from.

sometimes I just need to log out, cut the overstimulation of a never ending dashboard, turn off what everybody else on tumblr is doing, how much everbody is putting out, get away from my frustration about "my flopped fic" or the latest fandom drama and reconnect with the real reason I am doing this.

the love for stories and the source material.

for some people those breaks can be as short as two days, for other is might be weeks or months and that is not only okay but totally normal.

sometimes you might realize that the reason you are not writing is that you actually don't want to. sometimes you just want to daydream without the extra work sometimes you're just not in a writing mood and it's not much deeper than that.

that doesn't have to mean you're done with your blorbos. it just means that there are more valid and fun ways to play with them.

don't worry, the fandom will still be there when you decide to pick up the keyboard again. maybe with less people, maybe with many different people but you will always find someone who cares. those who have moved on to different things not come back wouldn't likely have stayed if you had powered through.

fandom shouldn't be a you're in or you're out thing but a place you come to when you want to.

contentification of fandom has had a lot of negative effects on the way we create and so many people fade from their hobby because they simply burn themselves out to a point where it leaves a scar.

so. find something that makes you happy that does not require you to invest too much creational energy. rest those muscles as long as it takes.

nothing you can get on tumblr or ao3 is worth the sore brain, the frustration with yourself and the stress you add onto your mental health ontop of everything else in your life.

recharge, reevaluate, reconnect

have fun

#fandom discourse #fandom problems #writers block #fandom #fanfiction #fanfiction writers

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pellucid-constellations · 2 years

Text

A Million Reasons - Four

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, with all his trust fund money and family connections, gets assigned community service. You, as someone that’s technically part of the community, now have to put up with him. Every day. And he won’t stop killing your plants.

Warnings: More tension, angry faceoff between men 😤

Word Count: 3.8k

a/n: I am very excited for what comes after this one ;)

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

It was pouring today, and while that was a bit unseasonal for New Haven in the fall, you weren’t going to complain. Rain meant the holes in the roof of your greenhouse became a problem, and a noticeable problem meant money from your department—something you never seemed to have enough of. It also meant your greenhouse was currently being occupied by roofers.

Which also meant that Bucky had to follow you around the gardening store to fulfill his hours for the day. And Bucky at the gardening store had a lot to say, unfortunately.

“You need one of these things?” he asked, holding up a multi-colored pinwheel and flicking his finger against the flimsy paper.

You raised a brow, dropping another pot into the cart. “That wouldn’t even work in the greenhouse. No wind.”

He leaned his forearms on the handle of the cart. “I could just like, blow on it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, might be fun. Add some color to that dark dungeon.”

“It’s not a dungeon!” you scoffed, yanking the pinwheel from his fingers. “It’s nice in there. And I don’t have the funds for a toy, anyways.”

Bucky plucked the offending item from your hands once more, examining the price tag with narrowed eyes. You leaned your hip against the cart with a small huff and pretended to be annoyed by his antics, but that was getting harder to do; after the night in his car a few days ago, your dynamic had… changed.

Actions that once would have irked you now had you rolling your eyes, but not out of irritation. Bucky would knock over his stool and the sheepish grin on his face would be endearing instead of enraging. His excessive clothes were starting to grow on you, especially when he would leave the greenhouse with speckles of dirt dotting his sleeves or his socks—because that was another thing: him insisting on helping.

It was mostly the hard things. He would hop up from his seat when you would heave a soil bag out of storage, and scold you when you tried to carry too much at once. He never tried to plant or measure or count seeds, but the second you looked like you were struggling he was suddenly very on board with community service.

And it was nice having some strength around the greenhouse, but the touching that came along with the help was maddening. An almost stuttering, losing your breath kind of maddening.

“Here, I can carry that one,” would come right before a hand on the small of your back.

“I swear, you’re trying to hurt yourself,” and then a tug on your sweater when you nearly toppled over a pile of empty bags.

“You know I got two hands that work, right? You can ask for help sometimes,” followed by a squeeze at your shoulder. That one felt more personal and was definitely the reason you struggled to speak for the remainder of the day.

You had no idea if he was doing it on purpose or if he was just getting comfortable with you, but it was making it hard to parse out your feelings. With every small touch and lighthearted joke you were left trying to remember why you were so conflicted inside. Bucky was annoying and spoiled and full of himself, but he was also sweet and charming and he cared about the people close to him. There was no reason to feel so guilty each time your chest fluttered at his laugh; he wasn’t the asshole you thought he was.

But then his phone would ring, and you would remember.

The phone calls from his friends made him sound douchey and very much like the trust fund baby you hated, but you could handle those calls—they were short and Bucky always smiled at you like you were in on some secret joke as he taunted his friends over the line.

It was the calls from her that made you remember.

Bucky would answer with her name, a light “Serena, hey,” spoken into the receiver before he turned to take the call outside. And you always felt stupid—god, did you feel stupid—because whoever Serena was, she definitely wasn’t you.

The rumors surrounding Bucky’s engagement were plentiful and every source was conflicting, but they all seemed to agree on a few things: his suspected fiancee was loaded, he was loaded, and their parents wanted them together more than anything. He never spoke to about her, and he never gave any indication that he was actually engaged, but there were rumors. And rumors often came from truth.

So, the phone calls from her reminded you why you were so against the new feelings taking up space under your skin. They were each a small wake up call, a whisper in your ear that you would never be enough for someone like Bucky. Not that that was a particularly new feeling for you.

Even still, despite your reservations, you had developed this small, budding friendship with Bucky, and there was nothing you could do to fend it off. Especially when he had to spend multiple hours with you per week.

Hence the pinwheel he was examining in the fluorescent light of the gardening store.

“Wait,” Bucky drawled, throwing you out of your thoughts. “This is only $2.99. I thought it was going to be, like, twenty.”

You took a moment, shutting your eyes and blinking them back open in disbelief. “You thought… you thought that thing was going to be twenty dollars?”

“Are they usually more?”

He looked up at you with such sincerity you had to press your lips together to stop the laugh from bursting out of you.

“Bucky,” you began, a small, incredulous smile still making its way onto your face. “It’s made out of paper and plastic and not even a foot long. Unless something’s happened to the U.S. dollar that I don’t know about, a pinwheel for a potted plant is never twenty dollars.”

Bucky blinked, then blinked again. His mouth fell open and he tossed the small decoration back on the shelf without breaking eye contact with you. His shocked expression slowly formed into a smile of his own, and you were suddenly very worried about the impact this price revelation was having on Bucky Barnes.

“Holy shit,” he laughed, drawing out the syllables of each word as his joy seemed to grow. “Holy shit. If I’d known all it would take is me acting like an out of touch idiot, I woulda done that a long time ago.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you asked, eyes darting around him in confusion.

Bucky only smiled wider, pushing off the handle of the cart. “You called me Bucky. You’ve never called me that before.”

“What—that’s not true. I call you Bucky all the time. You asked me to.”

You distinctly remembered the “hey, call me Bucky, yeah? James is my father,” from his first day in the greenhouse. You must have called him Bucky since then, right? It’s not as if you had been making a conscious effort not to.

But Bucky was shaking his head at your statement, rounding the cart with some sort of gleam in his eye. “Nope, you’ve never. You mostly stick to Barnes, which is better than James, I guess. But never Bucky. Figured you were tryna keep me at arm’s length, but now…”

“I wasn’t doing it on purpose,” you were quick to correct. “You’re still at arm’s length. Actually, now that you’re being weird you’re at two arm’s lengths.”

“Am I? Doesn’t really seem like I am.”

“And how to do you figure that? Just because I said your name?”

Bucky’s brow quirked up. “No, because… well, because this looks like it’s only about half.”

He lifted his arm between you, his palm coming down to rest on your shoulder. His elbow was obviously bent, further proving that he was only half an arm’s length from you. That snarky asshole.

You opened your mouth to quip something back, but he beat you to it.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses, y/n, I stand this close to you all the time. If you wanted two arm’s length, you coulda just…” He trailed his hand down to your elbow, tugging it forward to get better leverage as he leaned down to your ear and whispered, “Pushed me.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, the heavy thrumming in your ears completely drowning out the rest of the nearly empty garden store. Bucky’s words were spoken into the inch of space between you, but you could feel them on your skin—burning, damning you to this weird feeling trickling along the edges of your chest.

You hated it. You wanted it to go away so your head would stop feeling so foggy, but at the same time you reveled in it like a new elation you could never stop chasing. It was odd to feel so conflicted about something; your entire life you knew exactly what you wanted and there was never any question. But now, with Bucky, a variable in your life didn’t make sense. He didn’t make sense.

And to make matters worse, his breath was now tickling your skin in short puffs. Laughing—he was laughing, and you, once again, felt like an idiot.

“God, you’re such an ass,” you groaned, pushing at his chest and sending him stumbling back. “I don’t think ‘invading my personal space’ is on your designated task list.”

A few lingering chuckles left him, a small smile playing at his mouth as he replied with, “I don’t even know what would be on that task list. Making sure you don’t die in that deathtrap you call a greenhouse? Sitting on a stool until my back hurts?”

“Keep this up and I’ll actually find that task list and we can both learn what you're supposed to be doing all day.”

“Aw, c’mon, y/n,” Bucky drawled, invading your space once again to tuck your hair behind your ear. You knocked his hand away just as quickly. “I know you like hanging out with me. I see that little face you make every time I almost make you laugh.”

“I do not make a face.”

“You make a face.”

“I literally have never made a face in my entire life.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, leaning against the table to his right housing a plethora of succulents. “Look, you want me to describe the face, I’ll describe the face… your mouth twists up to the side and then you bite your lip—”

“I don’t do that.”

“—like you’re definitely trying not to let out that little laugh I only get when I’ve really said something really funny.”

“You never say anything funny.”

“And then you close your eyes like you’re meditating and tap your fingers against the table and thats when I think, ‘oh man, here it comes’—”

You swiped the pinwheel from the shelf Bucky left it on and flung it at him, the thin paper bouncing off his forehead and falling to the ground beside his ridiculous Italian leather dress shoes. The juxtaposition was truly a sight to behold, the poorly made toy propped up by a material worth more than your monthly grocery bill.

You looked back up at Bucky when another moment passed, only to find him staring at the ground as you had been, effectively silenced. His brows shot up as he leaned down, plucking the plastic handle from the floor and pointing the multi-colored paper at you in accusation.

“Just for that, we’re getting this,” he finalized, dropping it into the cart and fixing the collar of his coat as he went.

“No, no,” you argued, leaning over the grated rim of the basket. “You deserved that. We’ve been here for what, an hour? And you’ve already made fun of me about three times.”

“Made fun of—y/n, I wasn’t making fun of you!”

“Yeah, uh huh.”

Bucky shook the cart, his gaze softening when your attention finally shot back up to him. “Hey, I wasn’t, alright? Swear it.”

You pressed your lips together, trying not to feel affected by the way Bucky’s gentle eyes fought for your understanding. He titled his head down a smidge, the weird lighting in the greenhouse casting shadows over his face, and you gripped the metal cart harder.

This would have been easier if he was making fun of you.

“Okay, well, we’re still not getting the pinwheel.”

All sincerity vanished from Bucky’s face, replaced instead by incredulity. “What! Why? It’s not even expensive.”

“Bucky—” You didn’t miss the way his eyes widened at the sound of his own name. Just a fraction, but it was still there. “I need every last penny the department gives me. I’m not exactly rolling in money over here.”

“Wait… you were serious about that? I thought you were just trying to get me to put this thing back.”

You leaned back, fingers laced through the metal of the cart. “Nope, I’m on scholarship. No family with any university pull and no trust fund to back any donations. I’m lucky if they give me enough for the bare minimum.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Bucky argued, pressing into the cart as he trailed after you down the aisle. “Yale’s loaded. It’s a private university—they have more than enough money for your project.”

“Oh, they have the money. They just don’t want to give it to me.”

Bucky tsked, his shoes scuffing the worn pavement of the store as he went. This was obviously a tough concept for him to grasp, but as you smoothed out the crumpled shopping list from your pocket, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry. Maybe a little annoyed at the opportunities Bucky was surely wasting—the chances you would never be given—but not angry.

He seemed to be angry enough for the both of you, actually, his low grumbles of disapproval each time you checked a price tag filtering over the staticky pop music from the store speakers.

You made a few comments when he tossed things into the cart—some pots that weren’t a cheap, dull brown and more small things made to stick in soil and look pretty—but he brushed you off with an eye roll each time.

“They’re for my mom, you stickler. I’ll pay for them. Is that allowed?”

“Your mom gardens?”

“Of course she does. What else would she do at the Hampton house?”

The lopsided shopping cart rounded the last corner of the garden store when Bucky finally decided he had grabbed enough. He was standing close to you, his elbow brushing your arm each time he stepped, and you had done a fine job pretending to ignore him for the last few minutes. You hadn’t been, of course, but you enjoyed the way your name sounded each time he made sure of that.

His head would tilt, his brows would raise, and then he would shake the cart a little and huff as if paying attention to him was your sole purpose in life. Truly, he was acting like a child, and maybe you would’ve been more upset about that if your shopping cart wasn’t almost filled to the brim with items for his “mother”. Because you were pretty sure he didn’t have a home in the Hamptons; his family seemed more like winter people.

It wasn’t until the dreary checkout lanes came into view that you realized you had enjoyed an entire afternoon with Bucky. And that he had stayed with you far past his allotted volunteer hours. Neither of you commented on that.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, right?” he asked as he helped you unload the cart onto the conveyor belt. “You work in the greenhouse on the weekends?”

You threw him a teasing look. “Why? You want to spend your precious Saturday holed up in my dungeon?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe—”

“Y/n?”

Peter’s voice was unexpected and made you feel exposed, somehow. You whipped around in line to find him, your back brushing Bucky’s chest and his hand skimming your arm at your sudden movement. His fingers wrapped around your wrist and you didn’t fight the contact.

“Peter,” you breathed. “You didn’t tell me you were shopping today.”

Peter’s eye flickered down to your wrist so quickly you almost missed it. “I just needed some last minute things.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s…nice. It’s not too busy today. Good for shopping.”

“Yeah…” he trailed off.

Your chest felt unbelievably tight as you stood flush against Bucky. Guilt was gnawing at you, but you couldn’t place it’s reason or purpose. You weren’t doing anything wrong. You were here for school with the guy forced to help you.

But Peter was looking at you like he was hurt, and you couldn’t begin to understand why.

You pulled out of Bucky’s grip and took a step forward. “Um, we were just finishing up here. But I’ll see you later, right? For movie night?”

“Guess if you’re not too busy,” Peter shrugged, his words holding an uncharacteristic bite to them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“Don’t know,” he replied. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Look a little too busy for your friends.”

A shoe clicked behind you, following the uncomfortable breath that left your lungs. Your eyes were trailing a path along the candy and gum stocked by the register as you made any attempt not to meet Peter’s scrutinizing gaze. Heat assaulted your face when Bucky’s presence loomed at your back once more.

“There a problem, Parker?” Bucky asked haughtily.

You turned your head so fast the beginnings of whiplash crept up your neck. “You know Peter?”

Bucky didn’t look down at you, his eyes still fixed on your friend. “We’re acquainted.”

“Unfortunately,” Peter spat.

You whirled back around. The room was starting to spin with all of this back and forth. “Whoa, Pete.”

“Oh, fuck off, Parker,” Bucky called.

“Bucky!” you exasperated.

Peter cut in again. “Watch your mouth, asshole.”

“What the hell is going on right now?” you huffed, arms raised in alarmed confusion. “Seriously, this is a plant store. You guys are fighting next to literal lima beans.”

Bucky let out a deep, angry breath that you felt along the back of your head. You didn’t have to look up at him to know that his jaw was clenched and his eyes were steely. Peter gave off a similar vibe with his arms crossed stiffly across his chest.

“Whatever, I don't have time for this bullshit,” Bucky finally scoffed. He dug around in his pocket before spinning on his heel and slapping a credit card down by the register. “Here.”

“Bucky, you don’t have to—”

“I gotta run, Daisy.” That was all he cut you off with, one final glare thrown over your shoulder when the receipt spit out of the machine and onto the floor. He didn’t try to pick it up, instead sauntering out of the store and leaving you with an uncomfortable store employee and very angry Peter.

You reached down to swipe the paper from the floor and gave Peter a baffled look. “What was that all about?” But Peter was still watching the door as it swung shut behind Bucky. You waved your hand in front of his face. “Dude?”

Eyes reluctantly met yours. “What, so you’re hanging out with him now?” he asked.

“No?” you replied. “This was part of his volunteer hours. There are roofers at the greenhouse so we couldn’t stay there.” You hadn’t told Peter about the late night escapade Bucky took you on a few days ago, and based on his reaction to seeing the man simply in your vicinity, you weren’t about to start spilling the details.

Peter scoffed. “Right. And do the terms of his community service include him paying for your supplies?”

The receipt in your hand crumpled. “He didn’t—I didn’t ask for him to—”

“Save it, y/n. I get it… rich guy comes in and starts paying for things and suddenly we forget he’s an asshole.”

Your gut twisted. “That is not fair. You know I’m not like that.”

“I thought I knew that. Now I’m not so sure.”

The guilt you felt morphed into anger. Your face was tight with frustration and confusion and it burned with the embarrassment of such a public confrontation. “I can’t believe you… you’re acting worse than him right now.”

“There it is,” Peter scoffed. He dropped his basket by the magazine racks, abandoning it with the shake of his head. “Just don’t come crying to me when he acts the way he acts.”

“He’s doing community service! Why do you have such a problem with him?”

“Why don’t you? When this whole thing started you had nothing good to say about him.”

The cashier cleared her throat from behind you. The sound startled you and you turned to find all of your items neatly bagged with an unnecessary delicacy. It was clear the girl had taken her time placing each pot in its place, and you couldn’t really blame her for trying to fill time and avoid the harsh conversation in her check out line.

You blinked at her, trying to convey an apology as you reached for the paper bags. With a final sigh you turned to Peter once more. He still stood stony and unexpressive.

“When you’re done acting like… this.” You motioned to his figure. “Call me. I’d love some answers, Peter. And maybe an apology.”

You stomped out of the store, mimicking Bucky’s earlier departure with much less grace. Hot anger and irate frustration still grated at you as you stepped into the cool air of the parking lot. The emotions smashed together in your head and left you feeling like a sharp edge in an otherwise soft day.

You still had no idea how Bucky and Peter knew each other, and you knew even less about the reasons why they were at each other's throats. And to add to that, you knew far less about why Peter was using you as a punching bag. You had spoken to the guy yesterday and he was sweeter than ever—inviting you and your roommates to his apartment for movies and dinner.

Now, you were almost positive the invitation had been rescinded. For whatever reason.

But if Peter wanted to be cryptic and rude, that was fine. You had other things to do. Like redecorating a greenhouse.

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