#he's like...like do a hand stand back flip of beacon??

[nyanykamito]

decided that yeah gonna brainstorm prompts for Ruby x Sun week, be fun and cute, wholesome. Plus gives me stuff to draw, i’ll post the prompts just incase there are any other ruby x sun fans out there..

[lintuwaterfall]

outfits

I just saw a post trying to argue that in RWBY the female outfits are more sexualized then the male cast.....because the female cast tends to "show more skin", and also part of this same post is talking about Jaune's armor and wondering if there is a story reason for that and questioning why more people don't wear armor in the show.

RWDE's once again showing their lack of understanding. First, the attire of the female cast is not really sexualized, especially compared to some redesings certain folks have made. Second, Monty and CRWBY purposlly put in "anti-upskit tech" so we see nothing when people like Ruby and Weiss do flips. Third, given the fact that things such as "individual identity" are part of the narrative it makes sense for the cast to be in outfits that are more focused on personal tastes rather than practicality. As for Jaune's armor, the story is about his growth. Jaune took the old hand-me-down armor and weapon and faked his way into Beacon because he wanted to follow in the footsteps of his forebearers. He wanted to be the big hero. He is stuck in the past. Then after The Fall he integrates some metal's from Pyrrha's gear and weapons into his newly reforged stuff. It isn't a lot, but now he carries his fallen partner with him. However he is more focused on offense, indicated by the Claymore Mode of his sword. After he talks with his team in Argus and they make it to Atlas he takes another step with a retooling of his gear. He gets more balance in his armor and his weapon focus turns to his shield which is now armed with a gravity dust reflector. But then things go wrong and he falls into the Ever After where he spends years allowing in his regrets as he is back to being stuck in the past, hence why even fully armored he is covered in rust. He hasn't properlly taken care of himself. When they get to Vacuo he will likely rebalance himself once more now that he can be with his team again and we will see a brand new look. As for why more character's don't wear armor, again it is purely aethsetic choice both in and out of universe. Out of univers, the character's without armor stand out more and feel more like the anime and video game characters that Monty and crew were inspired by, and this in turn lets the few with armor stand out in their own way as well. In-universe it lets more characters show their personal freedoms/limitations in their dress. It helps reflect parts of themselves. A number of folks in this fandom have already broken down such design choices.

[infamous-light]

Captured Part VI

Dark! Wandanat x Villain/Mutant! F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

AO3: Captured

Summary: You and your mutant friends have been in hiding due to the havoc you all wreaked over the past few years. One day, you all decided to make your presence known and rob one of the largest federal reserve banks in the U.S.

Unfortunately, things did not go as planned for you.

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: Allusion to non-con (it's not explicit), mind manipulation, kidnapping

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the broken windows of an abandoned rowhouse, you slouched in an old armchair, its once plush fabric now tattered and worn. Your fingers idly traced the frayed edges as you listened to the murmurs of your friends surrounding you.

To your left, Caleb paced back and forth, his footsteps echoing in the empty space. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands standing on end with static. Wes leaned against the back wall, idly flipping a switchblade open and closed.

Aria sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, her fingers flying across the keys of her laptop, the screen casting a faint glow on her face. Ellie stood by one of the windows, peering out into the darkening neighborhood, her expression unreadable.

“We need a lot of cash, and we need it fast,” Caleb muttered, rubbing his temples in frustration. “We've got debts to some dangerous people, and you know they're not the patient type.”

Wes nodded solemnly. “We could always hit up another drug stash.”

Ellie shook her head. “We've hit up every dealer in Baltimore already. We need something bigger. Something that can last us long term.”

“True. I guess we can't keep relying on small-time gigs.” Wes added, his brow furrowing in contemplation.

The air grew heavy with desperation as everyone racked their brains for a solution. And then, like a beacon of hope in the darkness, Caleb's suggestion cut through the silence.

“What about the Federal Reserve Bank in New York?” He said, his voice tinged with excitement.

Your heart skipped a beat as the weight of his proposal sank in. The Federal Reserve Bank. One of the most heavily guarded institutions in New York City.

Your eyebrows rose as you glanced at Caleb. “The Fed? Seriously?”

“Yeah, think about it,” Ellie chimed in. “All that money just sitting there, waiting for someone to take it.”

“Hold on just a moment,” Aria interjected. “The federal reserve doesn’t actually hold cash.”

A collective sigh rippled through the group, and Caleb threw his hands in the air in frustration.

“Well, there goes my idea.” He grumbled.

Aria held up a hand, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. “But it does hold something far better. Gold bars. Thousands of them.”

That revelation sparked a renewed fervor among everyone.

“We'd just need a solid plan,” you said cautiously, trying to sound practical despite the excitement building inside of you. “If we manage to pull this off, we have to leave the country as soon as possible. We'll need to lay low for a couple of years again. Is that a risk we're all willing to take?”

The weight of your words hung heavy in the stale air of the building. But the lure of the heist, the promise of freedom and wealth, overshadowed any doubts.

“What places are you thinking of?” Wes asked.

“Well, we could stay in Belarus or Slovakia for a start and then go from there.” You replied, giving him a half shrug.

Aria nodded thoughtfully; her expression serious as she considered the logistics. “Yeah, those countries could work. We'd need a safe house, somewhere off the grid.”

You leaned back into the armchair, its worn upholstery creaking beneath you, and gave your friends a grin.

“So, let's hear it then. How do you propose we pull off the heist of the century?”

***

You stirred from your slumber, feeling the gentle sway of someone shaking your shoulder. Slowly, you blinked your eyes open to see Wanda leaning over you with a smile. She was wearing a flowing sundress, the fabric rustling around her as she shifted on her feet.

“Wake up, darling.” Wanda whispered, her voice a soothing melody that pulled you from the depths of sleep.

Groggily, you stretched and yawned. As your senses came back to life, you realized you had dozed off on the couch, the television playing an ad in the background. Wanda leaned in a little closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheek.

“It's almost dinner time,” she said. “Are you hungry? Would you like us to fix you something to eat?”

You nodded mechanically, more out of habit than genuine hunger. Your gaze drifted past Wanda's shoulder to the clock on the wall. Its hands moved steadily, showing the time to be 4:50 PM.

With a small sigh, you realized how much of the day has already slipped by unnoticed.

“I think I'll go take a shower.” You murmured.

The words were heavy on your tongue as you pushed yourself up from the couch. Wanda nodded understandingly, her expression warm and patient as she gave you space to gather yourself.

“Of course, take your time.” Her gaze lingered on you for a moment before she straightened up.

Your eyes shifted across the living room, and you noticed that Natasha sat at a nearby table, engrossed in her laptop. The sight of Natasha on her laptop triggered a sharp pain in your skull, and suddenly, the image of Aria sitting in front of her own laptop in your dream came rushing back to you.

For a moment, you found yourself frozen in place.

You stood there, lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts. Natasha's gaze lifted from her laptop; her expression inscrutable as she met your eyes.

She broke the silence, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of restraint. “Do you need something?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

“Uh-no, I'm just feeling pretty tired.”  You replied, your voice slightly hoarse.

“Alright.” Natasha said plainly.

She returned her attention to the screen, seemingly unperturbed by the exchange.

Feeling Wanda's light touch on your left shoulder, you looked up to meet her gaze, only to find her giving you a strange look.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly, her voice laced with genuine worry. “You seem... distant.”

You tried to muster a reassuring smile, but it felt forced on your lips.

“I'm okay. I think I stood up too quickly.”

Wanda studied you for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, before nodding slowly.

“Alright,” she said, her tone gentle yet firm. “Go take a shower. It might help you feel more awake.”

You offered her a grateful nod before leaving the room, the weight of uncertainty still heavy on your mind.

With each step toward the bedroom, the remnants of the dream clung stubbornly to your mind, like tendrils of fog refusing to dissipate. The hallway stretched out before you and you soon reached the center where it split into two. You found yourself at a crossroads, both figuratively and literally.

You glanced down the hallway to the right, where the dim light revealed a series of closed doors leading to other rooms. You didn't have the chance to wander down it last time. Your mind flickered with the idea of discovering more about your surroundings, searching for potential escape exits or hidden passages.

As you looked back toward the living room door, you caught the sound of Wanda and Natasha talking, their voices mingling as they discussed what you all should have for dinner.

No.

There wouldn’t be enough time to do what you needed to do. With a heavy sigh, you pushed aside the urge to snoop around and instead made your way to the bedroom.

As you entered, your eyes drifted toward the only window in the bedroom. Memories of examining the window in the storage room flickered briefly in your thoughts. You approached the window, your hand hovering over it. You placed your palm flat against the cool surface, feeling the smoothness of the glass beneath your touch. But as you did, a sense of disappointment built up within you.

It was made of the same tempered glass as the storage window. Despite the discouragement, you wouldn’t give up. You turned away from the windowsill and stepped into the bathroom, intent on taking a refreshing shower to help clear your mind.

***

You sat at the dinner table, your fork clinking against the plate as you absentmindedly pushed the food around. Wanda was to your right, her expression content as she delicately picked at her own meal. Natasha sat across from you, her gaze fixed on her plate.

Despite the palpable atmosphere, Wanda remained unfazed, engaging you in conversation as if everything was normal.

“Are you enjoying your meal, honey?” Wanda asked, her voice warm and inviting.

You glanced at Natasha, catching her eye for a moment before turning your attention back to Wanda.

“Yeah, it's great.” You said, attempting to sound cheerful.

Wanda's smile faltered for a brief moment, a hint of doubt flickering in her eyes before she smoothed it away with practiced ease. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, wishing for this tension between you and Natasha to end sooner rather than later.

As dinner came to an end, you started to stand, ready to help with the cleanup, but Wanda stopped you with a gentle touch on your arm. “There’s no need to worry about that. Why don't you pick out something for us to watch while we take care of this?”

You hesitated for a moment, but you nodded, grateful for Wanda's gesture to get you out of this situation.

“Sure.”

You headed to the living room, leaving Wanda and Natasha to clean up the remnants of dinner.

Once you entered the living room, you noticed that the couch lacked its usual array of cozy blankets. It seemed oddly bare without them. With a mental note to grab some from the nearby closet, you reached for the remote and scrolled through the options on one of the streaming services.

You paused, your finger hovering over the OK button as you debated between a classic comedy or a gripping thriller. Eventually, you settled on ALF, hoping its humor would help lighten the mood.

With the TV show playing in the background, you made your way over to the closet and opened the door. The hinges creaked as the door swung open, revealing a bunch of blankets and throws neatly folded on the shelves.

You reached in, your fingers grazing the soft fabric as you searched for just the right one to bring back to the couch. You selected a blanket large enough to cover you all, its warmth already promising to chase away the chill that seemed to permeate the room.

Closing the closet door, you sighed, ready to get the night over with. But just as you were about to turn around, the TV suddenly turned off, casting the room into unexpected darkness. Startled, you froze, the blankets slipping from your grasp.

Heart pounding, you slowly turned the rest of the way, your eyes widening as you caught sight of Natasha standing by the couch. You could see the faint outline of her features, illuminated by the glow of the hallway light filtering through the partially closed door.

“Natasha,” your voice trembled slightly, surprised by her sudden appearance. “Is everything okay?”

Natasha's piercing gaze was fixed on you, her eyes burning with a mixture of anger and wounded pride. A cold chill swept through the room, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realized that whatever was happening was far from over.

Without a word, she advanced toward you. You took a step back, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“You think you can just deny me?” Natasha's voice cut through the silence like a knife, her tone dripping with venomous contempt.

Before you could respond, Natasha closed the distance between you two in an instant, her hand shooting out to grab your arm in a vice-like grip. The suddenness of it all caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but wince as a jolt of pain shot through your forearm. Her grip was like iron, the force of it leaving bruises to already bloom beneath her fingertips.

“Please, Natasha, stop! You’re hurting me!” You cried out, trying to wrench your arm free from her grasp.

Natasha's grip only tightened, her nails digging into your skin with cruel determination.

With a swift motion, she shoved you backward, sending you stumbling against the couch with a startled gasp. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as you braced yourself for another attack. Instead, Natasha loomed over you, her expression twisted into a mask of rage and frustration.

“Why are you being so difficult?” Natasha demanded as she folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes pierced into yours with an intensity that made you squirm internally.

You wanted to resist her control, to break free from this terrible situation. But on the other hand, there was a nagging fear low in your gut, a fear of what she was capable of if you dared to defy her.

“I-I'm just nervous.” You forced out, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. Your palms felt clammy, and you resisted the urge to fidget under her scrutiny.

“I can tell.” Natasha retorted, her tone dry and devoid of sympathy.

“It’s just-I’m not used to doing this kind of thing.” You confessed, the admission leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Well, you'll get used to it.” Natasha said as she stepped closer. Her hand reached out, fingers tracing a path along your jawline. You shivered under her touch.

“You need to relax,” she murmured, her voice low and husky. “You'll enjoy it, I promise.”

A surge of nausea churned in your stomach, bile rising in your throat at the implication of her words. The thought of succumbing to Natasha's desires against your will filled you with a deep, primal dread.

Natasha’s movements were deliberate as she moved to straddle your hips, pinning your body against the couch. Every inch of your body screamed at you to fight back, to push her away, but you forced yourself to remain still. Her lips then curled into a predatory smirk, her eyes alight with desire.

Natasha leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. “You can't stay nervous forever.” She whispered.

Her hands roamed your body with possessive urgency, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your skin crawled beneath her fingertips, and you fought the urge to recoil. Tears began to well up in your eyes as Natasha's lips brushed against your pulse point.

A wave of revulsion crashed over you, accompanied by a sickening sense of resignation. The line between desire and coercion blurred, leaving you trapped in a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape.

[outtoshatter]

Author spotlight for today is @sugareey-makes-stuff ! They joined the sterek/teen wolf fandom in 2022 and already have so much stuff to choose from!!

Bite sized stories:

Dancing Shadows from Behind | T | 500 tags: urban legends, demons, spark Stiles, alpha Derek Summary: Derek pulls Stiles closer to his chest as more shadows appear. Stalking, taunting and dancing around them. Ready to strike again at any moment.

[Or: Derek has no idea what to do when the Pack is trapped by daevas. But something ignites a Spark, and that's enough.]

Pink Lemonade | T | 600 tags: road trips, adventure, slice of life, established relationship Summary: “Stiles?” Derek murmurs, watching him closely. Almost hesitantly, as if Stiles might bolt at any second.

“Holy fucking—oh my God,” Stiles blurts out instead. He most definitely flails while staring at Derek in awe. “Why have you never told me about this place before?”

[Or: Derek surprises Stiles by taking him to one of his favorite spots for an early morning picnic.]

Memories Bring Back You | G | 200 tags: developing relationship, reunions, fix-it, post-movie Summary: It’s surreal to see Stiles flipping through the pages of his precious journal, soaking in every single word and drawing he’s documented over the years.

“You’re a dumbass, Derek,” Stiles declares plainly.

[Or: Derek tells Stiles how he really feels about him after all these years apart from each other. Because it's written down on paper now, and it's about damn time.]

It's Enough for Now | G | 300 tags: autumn, cold weather, sharing body heat, monster of the week Summary: “You know, I could get another blanket,” Stiles points out, breaking the silence. “Or let me grab my hoodie from the couch—”

“It’s fine,” Derek interjects in a low voice. He tugs the blanket gently, pulling Stiles closer. “Stiles…”

[Or, Stiles and Derek end up sharing a blanket after coming back from the pack's latest supernatural adventure.]

Over 1k:

[Art]Molten | E | 27K with Wolfspurr tags: friends to lovers, canon divergence, mutual pining Summary: "Stiles, is that you?"

He recognizes that voice. He doesn’t know why he’s hearing it here though, in whatever cold, dark cave he’s found himself in. The owner of that voice is supposed to be miles away, back home in Beacon Hills. Unless Stiles is the one that’s ended up further from home than he could possibly have predicted.

"Derek?!"

[Art]Brewin' up Love | E | 30k with wanderingeyre tags: alternating POV, getting together, fluff & angst, the pack ships it Summary: The Pack runs Moon Tower Fermentarium, a popular brewery in Beacon Hills, and they are a refuge for supernaturals that need it. Stiles is happy to be Scott's Emissary and loves being the head brewer. His life is great. If only he could get over his feelings for Derek.

Derek finally feels like the Pack is settled and he is proud of what they've built. He doesn't need anything else. He has Stiles in his life as his friend and that's more than he deserves. If he wishes for more in the dark of night, that is between him and the moon.

OR The one where the Pack owns a brewery and Stiles is on fire with the puns. Also, there is angst.

The Walls Came Crashing Down | T | 4k tags: canon divergence, hurt Stiles Stilinski, hopeful ending Summary: “Stop thinking so hard, or you’re going to bleed.”

Surely it couldn’t be—wasn’t his Pack supposed to be duking things out with vampires right now? But a very solid and reassuring hand squeezed his own. Grounding him. Holding on, as if to drain away his pain.

There was only one person who always did this whenever he got hurt.

“Derek?” Stiles whispered, his voice raw and scratchy.

*

[Or: A mission goes horribly wrong, and Stiles finally figures out where he stands with Derek.]

Feel You Breathing | E | 8k | 3 chapters tags: porn with feelings, unresolved sexual tension, writer Derek, bartender Stiles Summary: Derek: So, you need a distraction.

Stiles: Maybe Stiles: It’d be better if you were here to help me with that. Stiles: ;D

[Or: Sexy things start late one night when Derek gets a text from Stiles and escalate from there. A few secrets are revealed along the way.]

Made from Scratch | T | 2k tags: alpha Derek, spark Stiles, family feels, fluff & angst, teasing Summary: Derek missed Stiles. He hadn’t realized how much…until now. Something had to change. But where did he even start?

[Or: That one time Derek makes dinner for Stiles, thanks to inspiration from a family recipe and some nudging from Cora.]

Go check out all of sugareey's fics on their AO3 page! Don't forget to mind the tags, leave a kudos, and maybe even drop a comment!

[shellbilee]

Hey There Darlin' - Chapter 4

A Glen Powell RPF Series

Comment if you'd like to be tagged! x

Glen feels like he's buzzing.

Like the kind of buzzing you feel when you've had one too many cups of coffee, or a hit of pre workout just before a big gym session.

Except this time, he knows it has nothing to do with caffeine.

It's Billie.

He’s known her for less than twenty-four hours, but already he feels like he can’t get enough of her. Of her voice, her eyes, her lips, of her smile. Her fucking gorgeous smile.

Glen looks over when he sees a black Ford pick up pulling up a few spaces away, his eyes widening in surprise when he sees Billie step out of the car. He sucks in a breath as he looks her over, feeling his muscles clench as his eyes run over her body. Her thick legs, her round ass, her toned abdomen peeking out from beneath the cropped shirt she’s wearing. It’s enough to send him spinning.

Fuck.

He looks back at his reflection in his rearview mirror, running his fingers through his hair and putting his cap back on. He bares his teeth, checking for any missed pieces of food, before letting out a heavy breath and getting out of his car.

“Billie!”

Glen sees her look up at his call, a happy smile parting her lips when she sees him. He jogs the short distance over to her, watching as she puts her phone away and reaches up to shield her face from the afternoon sun. 

“Nice wheels” he says, gesturing to her pick up behind her, Billie’s smile widening.

“Thanks. I like yours too”.

Glen grins, glancing back over at his own Chevy Silverado, his big silver truck standing out like a shining beacon in the Ikea parking lot.

“Can I ask you a question?” Billie asks as they start walking towards the entrance, Glen watching the way her long ponytail bobs as she walks. 

The colour reminds him of roasted espresso beans, with ribbons of warm chocolate rippling through.

“Shoot”.

“It must be really hard for you to just, go out shopping? I mean everywhere you go, you kind of risk being stampeded by fans” Billie says, looking at the building entrance and back at Glen, “It didn’t even occur to me what this might be like for you, and now I feel a bit stupid that I asked you to come along. To Ikea of all places”.

Glen laughs and shakes his head. “Billie, I’d have said yes to anything you said if it meant that I got to spend more time with you”.

Glen loves the way her smile grows then, the soft blush that creeps into her golden skin from his words.

She has no idea how fucking gorgeous she is.

“But to answer your question, yes, it can be hard. It’s not something I really thought about though, at least until Top Gun. That kind of changed everything”.

Billie laughs, and Glen immediately decides that her laugh is one of his new favourite sounds.

“I mean, not to go all fan girl on you, but I can see why that happened. You were pretty memorable in that movie” Billie says, offering a soft, sheepish smile and pulling her ponytail forward so that it tumbles down her shoulder.

“Yeah, as the asshole character” Glen replies, teasing another chuckle from Billie that makes his stomach flip.

“Well you did sort of save the day at the end, so perhaps that’s more the reason?” Billie reasons, her shoulders lifting in an adorable shrug, “Or you know, there’s the whole beach scene too, you were kind of gorg---, I mean, hard to forget in that”.

Glen turns to Billie with a raised eyebrow, willing her to continue talking. Instead he sees her mash her lips together, her eyes squeezing shut and her brow furrowing for a moment. She looks up at Glen a second later, her eyes big and beautiful, flashing with what Glen can only describe as embarrassment. 

“I’m going to shut up now, because I’ve said too much and I’m making an idiot of myself”.

Glen drops his head back and laughs, clapping his hands together.

“You know, I’d be quite happy to recreate that scene for you if you really wanted to see it again. Private screening, just for you”

Billie laughs and shoves him playfully. 

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

Glen doesn’t answer, instead flashing Billie his most charming grin.

“Alright so tell me, what kind of couch are we looking for?” Glen asks when they reach the entrance, cold, air-conditioned air blasting them as they walk through, “How many seats? Fold out? Material? Where is it going in your house?”

Billie bites her bottom lip again, and Glen has to put his hands on his hips to stop himself from grabbing her face and kissing her.

“I can’t answer any of those questions except that it’s going in my living room” Billie says, lifting her hands up in an I-don't-know-gesture’, the two walking through to the first of the showrooms.

“Okay so do you have any ideas of what you’re after then?” he asks, pausing when Billie leans over to run her hand over a navy throw blanket.

“A colour that Nugget’s fur won’t be so noticeable on. That’s about it so far”.

Glen laughs. 

“Okay so no dark colours then” he says as they browse the concept bedroom, the theme an earthy mix of whites, browns and deep greens. 

They move onto the next room - another bedroom, this one decorated in an urban, industrial theme. It’s all exposed brick walls and black fixtures, the bed linen a tangle of moody greys and dark navy. It reminds Glen of his own style at home, making him think of the dark charcoal sheets that are currently on his bed.

Sheets, he thinks, that would look great under Billie’s naked body.

Fuck.

His mind wanders for the tenth time since he’s been here, looking over to find Billie bending over to pick up and inspect a large terracotta coloured cushion. All of a sudden, his eyes are glued to her ass, her round, peachy ass in her bright blue, skin tight shorts. 

He imagines it in just a pair of panties and nothing else, a deep wine colour, a tiny, lace and silk number that covers next to nothing. He imagines her bent over in front of him, a cheek in each of his hands, her skin soft and buttery smooth as he kneads her supple flesh.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Glen exhales deeply, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing himself to get his thoughts in check. He looks up a moment later to see Billie taking a photo of the tag on the cushion she's holding, before dropping it back onto the bed and making her way into the next room.

“Maybe suede?” Billie asks, running her hand over the back of a grey suede loveseat she's just stopped in front of, Glen following close behind. 

“Probably not the best for fur though” Glen counters, Billie nodding in agreement and leaning her hip against the couch as she looks around the new room.

Glen hears laughter up ahead and he turns to see a group of girls walking towards the room they're in. There's four of them, all eighteen or so, laughing and chatting away at each other as they walk. 

He exhales heavily through his nose. Young girls were always tough to deal with when he was out - they made the most noise. They also posted everything on social media. 

The last thing he wants is fan attention when he's out with Billie, or worse, paparazzi following him in Ikea of all places. He knows from past experience it’s one of the quickest ways to freak out a girl he likes, particularly one that isn’t in the spotlight like Billie. 

He has a split second to make a decision. 

And so, he does.

“I think I like grey or ta--”

Billie’s words are abruptly cut short when Glen grabs her hand, pulling her into a nearby alcove behind the bedroom's wardrobe.

“Are we hiding?” Billie whispers after a moment, confusion evident on her face as she looks up at Glen in front of her.

He nods.

For a second he can’t think of anything except Billie, about how fucking gorgeous she is, about how right at this current moment she’s pressed up against him against a wardrobe, her fingers still wrapped in his.

Billie frowns, an amused, but confused expression on her face, Glen watching as she leans back to poke her head out of the alcove.

Glen sees her face transform with understanding when she sees what Glen is hiding from, the sound of the girls laughing and talking now evident inside the room. She leans back in towards Glen, a soft smile on her face, and it takes everything Glen has not to lean in and kiss her right there and then.

They both still when they hear the voices come closer, Glen's grip on Billie's hand tightening. He feels a momentary sting of alarm, all manner of potential scenarios now playing out in his head.

His chest tightens as he sucks in a deep breath, panic suddenly taking over his brain.

Fuck. Here we go.

He hears footsteps walk into the alcove and Glen isn't sure what to do, his thoughts immediately silenced when Billie reaches for his jaw and pulls his mouth to hers.

Oh, Billie.

In an instant every part of him relaxes, concerns from just a moment ago seemingly forgotten. Her lips are soft against his, moving against his in a tender kiss, her free hand cupping his jaw and holding his face to hers. He releases her other hand and searches for her waist, his fingers finding the bare skin beneath her short shirt and gripping at her warm flesh.

She's everywhere, all at once, the sweet taste of her mouth, the softness of her lips, the intoxicating scent of her skin, every single one of his senses suddenly drowning in her. Glen's heart races in his chest, his brain unable to think of anything else except Billie.

He hears the awkward stammering of the intruding girl, but it's barely audible above his heart beat in his ears. Just when Glen thinks he could die right here and now, Billie breaks away and turns her head, her hand still holding his face to her neck. He realises she’s shielding him, hiding his face from the unknown girl, his chest all but heaving as his mouth hangs less than an inch from her neck.

“Oh um, sorry” Billie says with a mischievous exaggerated giggle, the other girl muttering her own apology.

Glen barely listens as the girl backs away out of the alcove, unable to concentrate on anything except Billie's neck. He breathes in her scent, delicious and warm, forcing himself to stay still. It takes everything he has not to close that one inch gap and press his lips to Billie’s throat, every single fibre in his body screaming at him to drag his tongue along her skin.

Some part of him hears the girl return to her friends, the group giggling and quickly scurrying out of the showroom moments later. Reluctantly he pulls away when Billie releases his face, a heavy breath leaving his mouth as he does. Billie looks back at him with bright, wide eyes, Glen hyper aware that her chest is still pressed to his and his fingers are still gripping the warm skin of her waist. His thoughts are all but blank, except for how much he wants to do that all over again. 

He's buzzing again, stronger now, the feel of Billie's lips against his seemingly burnt into his brain. He drops his head back against the wall behind him and looks down at her with an incredulous smile, words struggling to form in his mind.

“Th---that was---”.

“Some quick thinking?” Billie interrupts, finishing his sentence for him and flashing a gentle grin.

He opens his mouth to speak but no words come out, Billie laughing and grabbing his hand from her waist. He says nothing as she wraps her fingers in his and steps away from him, pulling on his hand so that his body peels away from the wall and follows her back out into the bedroom.

“C'mon you, we've gotta find me a couch”.

---

Billie

“Are you sure you’re okay with those? I can carry one if you need”.

Glen looks down at her and shakes his head, two furniture flat packs nestled firmly under each of his arms. Billie forces herself to keep her eyes trained on his face, fighting the urge to stare at his thick biceps.

“No need darlin’, I got this”.

Billie exhales silently. 

How is his voice so damn attractive?

How does he make that ONE WORD sound so damn attractive?

How is ALL of him so damn attractive?

She swallows thickly.

She still can’t believe how bold she’d been earlier, still not quite believing that she’d kissed Glen. It was a split second idea that needed a split second decision. And she’d done it without a second thought.

She’d kissed Glen Powell.

The look on his face when she’d pulled away had made it all worth it though, and it had taken everything she had not to lean back in and kiss him up against the wall of the Ikea wardrobe. 

God.

To say she was attracted to him was an understatement, now even more so if that was even possible. To his gorgeous green eyes, his devastatingly sexy smile, his broad, muscled chest. If she were a cartoon, she was pretty certain she’d be drawn with permanent heart shaped eyes every time she looked at him. 

Billie pulls out her keys when they reach her car, unlocking the tailgate and stepping back to allow Glen to unload the flat packs into her tray. 

After much searching she’d ended up finding a couch she liked - an ‘L’ shaped three seater with a chaise extension, in a rich caramel coloured leather. There hadn’t been any left in stock though, so she’d instead ordered it, with delivery expected early next week.

She’d also found a new wooden end table and a small oak bookshelf that she loved, both of which Glen was currently hauling into her car.

Billie opens the front door of her pick up and throws the bag of assorted cream and grey cushions she'd also bought onto the passenger seat, closing the door and turning around in time to see Glen shutting her tailgate. He reaches up to readjust his hat, his sandy blonde hair peaking out from beneath it, an effortlessly handsome smile on his chiselled face. 

Billie wonders idly if he has any idea of the effect he has on her. Or on women in general for that matter.

“So I know we’ve spent the better part of the afternoon together, and at the risk of sounding needy, can I ask what you’re doing for dinner?”.

Billie can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips then, her face falling a second later when she remembers she actually does have plans.

“I've actually got a dinner to go to, a house-warming barbecue up in the hills”.

She feels her heart fall when his face drops, and in an instant she wishes she hadn't RSVP'd to her Saturday night plans.

“My boss just bought a new place” Billie explains looking down at her hands and then back up at Glen again, “but---, I’m free all day tomorrow?”.

His face instantly lights up at her words and suddenly her heart is soaring again, his gorgeous grin returning.

“It’s a date”.

Billie laughs and tilts her head, raising an eyebrow. “Does that mean today counts as our first date then?”.

Glen shrugs adorably. “That depends”.

“On?”

“Whether or not you liked it. If you didn’t, then no, it doesn’t count and tomorrow can be our real first date”.

Billie laughs out loud, shaking her head so that her ponytail swishes along her shoulder.

“I like unconventional dates” she says lifting up her hands in a shrug, “There isn’t so much pressure”.

Glen nods in agreement.

“Unconventional” he says repeating her word as if he’s thinking of ideas, his grin suddenly growing even wider.

Billie laughs again, but she can't help the frown that suddenly bends her brow.

“All of a sudden I’m scared to ask about what you’ve now got planned for tomorrow”.

Glen winks conspiratorially. 

“I’ll message you with the time”.

“Can I at least have a hint?”

Glen shakes his head.  

“Nope” he says, making the ‘p’ sound pop, “You said you like surprises”.

Bille laughs and rolls her eyes, immediately cursing herself for telling him that earlier.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?” Glen says, pushing himself off her car and stepping towards her.

Billie only nods, a school-girl smile threatening to split her face.

She sucks in a breath when he leans in towards her, his lips grazing her cheek with a gentle kiss. She closes her eyes momentarily, opening them back up when he steps away, seeing him look down at her with a smile that makes her knees weak.

“Have a good night Billie”

Billie lets out a shaky, silent breath and smiles.

“You too Glen”.

He winks at her and suddenly Billie seriously considers cancelling her dinner plans, watching as he walks off towards his truck. He turns to look back at her when he reaches his car, that same damn gorgeous smile etched on his face as he waves at her. She stays frozen by her car, her mind reeling as she mentally goes over the afternoon she's just had, reaching up to wave back at him.

Moments later he's in his truck and driving away, leaving Billie standing alone in the Ikea parking lot with nothing but a stomach full of nerves and a mind full of excitement for tomorrow.

---

Next Chapter

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[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

If you could gather all the greatest (all time favorites) fics where stiles travels to alternative universes, I would love you forever

Here you go!

once and again by bleep0bleep

(1/1 I 1,101 I General)

The problem with the multiverse, is that there are infinite possibilities. Stiles is tired. He’s been at this for a long, long time. It took years to master the power to traverse universes, and Stiles is putting a lot of faith in that he’ll find Derek again– a year of his life per shot, as is.

The (less) Broken Road by theroguesgambit

(1/1 I 4,012 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles and Derek find themselves in an alternate reality where Derek's still an Alpha, many of their lost friends are alive and well, and their alternate selves are apparently in a serious, long-term relationship.

With each other.

...Weird, right?

SuperWolf by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 I 4,816 I General I Sterek)

“Who are you? What are you doing? How are you doing? What is going on? Put me down!”

The man holding him let out a small chuckle, but didn’t release him until they were back on the cliff.

Where the Kappas were.

And he did, in fact, try and put Stiles down.

Stiles clung to the man tightly, arms around his neck and legs twisted so he could keep himself raised off the ground.

“Ah, not now, not now! Put me down where there aren’t any Kappas!”

Double Trouble by scatterglory

(11/11 I 8,191 I Mature I Sterek)

The Dereks face off across the small clearing he’d been running through, and Stiles realizes with a sick, sinking sensation that he’s not actually seeing double.

This or That, But Not Both by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 I 8,829 I Teen I Sterek)

“You can’t have everything.” The man held up both hands. “Your family,” he said, lifting his right hand and lowering his left, “or your boyfriend,” he switched them around, lifting his left and lowering his right. “Balance. You can have this,” he motioned around the room, “or that.” He pointed to his left and space seemed to break apart, a portal opening and showing Stiles, sitting at his desk with one hand pulling at his hair, the other flipping pages in a book.

“This, or that, but not both,” the Jumper said.

Five Days and a New Moon by LadyDrace 

(1/1 I 13,614 I Teen I Sterek)

Stiles gets a visit from himself from a parallel universe. In which he was born a girl. And had a kid. Which he's now stuck taking care of for a few days.

Great.

Oddly, though, Derek seems totally happy babysitting.

Or:

A story where things are both mor

Worlds Apart by exclamation

(14/14 I 32,131 I Explicit I Sterek)

Nothing exciting ever happens in Beacon Hills... until Stiles appears to get a stalker. A strange guy is breaking into his house, watching him at lacrosse practice and grabbing him outside of the school. This guy claims that he's a werewolf who knows Stiles in another world... and he needs Stiles' help to figure out what happened to him.

Agreeing to help a werewolf research parallel worlds is one thing... hiding it from his dad is another.

In Any Version of Reality by alisvolatpropiis

(7/7 I 39,853 I Explicit I Sterek)

Standing next to not-Derek – whoa, holding not-Derek’s hand? – is someone who looks remarkably like Stiles. Is Stiles, a slightly-altered replica, just like this guy both is and isn't Derek.

It’s not like looking into a mirror – one, because looking into a mirror actually makes some kind of sense, and two, because not-Stiles looks older too, mid twenties maybe. And the tips of his short, spiky hair are dark purple, and he’s got a lip ring and he’s shirtless and covered in tattoos and what the holy hell?

“Time travel?" He's sufficiently freaked. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hears his dad laughing.

“Not exactly,” not-Derek says, and shit, even his voice sounds exactly the same, disconcertingly gentle. He gestures behind him, and Stiles looks over his shoulder, where behind him, scattered across the porch and in the front yard, are more…Dereks and more Stileses.

Fourteen total, including the two at the door, he notes distantly, eyes feeling like they’re about to pop out of his head from bulging so hard.

Seven other Dereks. Seven other Stileses.

Seven Derek and Stiles pairs.

If the ley lines you should follow by forestofbabel

(10/10 I 52,111 I Teen I Sterek)

And Derek just stood there, staring at Stiles like he was a ghost.

“Dude, I know it’s been a while but you don’t have to look at me like you’re that surprised I’m hung over in the woods. It’s practically a tradition at this point.”

“Stiles?” Derek whispered, the name falling from his lips like a punch to the gut. Stiles watched, confused, as Derek took a deep breath in and took a shaky step forward then back again. “You’re not- you can’t be. Who are you?”

AND

@nolanfa suggested these great ones!

Echoes by entanglednow

(1/1 I 2,062 I General I Sterek)

Someone has deleted half the numbers in Stiles's phone.

Play It Again by metisket

(3/3 I 63,206 I Teen I Sterek)

In which Stiles goes along with one of Derek’s plans and ends up in an alternate universe as a result. He should’ve known better. He did know better, actually, and that means he has no one to blame but himself.

“Laura wants to lure the kid in with food and kindness and make a pet of him, like a feral cat. Derek wants to have him arrested for stalking. They’re at an impasse. (And the rest of the family is staying emphatically out of it in a way that suggests bets have been placed.)”

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Nothing To Chance

Pairing: Jordan Parrish x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: none really just Teen Wolf nonsense lol

Genre: fluff

Summary: Who knew visiting your cousin in Beacon Hills would open you up to a whole world of supernatural chaos

***

"You know, I'm surprised this old bucket of bolts still works. When your dad told me you drove it to school every morning I almost couldn't believe him- but here it is." You hum. Stiles stops in his tracks, and for a moment Scott does too.

"Y/n?!" Stiles gapes at you.

"Yeah, you gonna just stand there catching flies in your mouth or give your cousin a hug?" You ask. Before Stiles can get to you though, Scott takes off into a full run towards you, lifting you into his arms and spinning in two full circles before putting you down again.

"What the hell just happened? Who are you?" You narrow your eyes at Scott suspiciously.

"Come on- it's me Scott." He chuckles.

"You're saying that and you have his face but the Scott McCall I know wouldn't have been able to pick me up like I weigh nothing and spin me around so what'd you do with him?" You place your hands on your hips. Stiles finally runs at you, nearly tackling you with the force of his hug.

"Dude you have no idea what kind of things we've seen. You're literally not going to believe me when I start telling you all the stuff that's happened in the last couple years, it's nuts." Stiles tells you.

"What'd you do? Start going to parties?" You ask.

"No. Well actually, we have been to a couple but no. Parties are the least of our worries man we're fighting evil, Scott's a werewolf-" Your hand comes up to stop Stiles from continuing his rant.

"What!?" You blink at him.

"Scott's a werewolf. That's why he could pick you up so easily." Stiles says entirely too casually for your liking.

"I would've settled for he's been in the gym lately. Werewolf?! That's what we're going with?"

"I told you you wouldn't believe the stuff we've seen." Stiles shrugs.

"I need some explanations." You frown.

"It all started when Stiles did what Stiles does best." Scott says.

"Stick his nose in something he has no business getting involved in?" You ask.

"Correct." Scott nods.

"Hey it was very important." Stiles protests.

"For the cops maybe!" Scott scoffs.

"The cops? What the hell did you two get into?" You blink at them.

"Well we were in the woods investigating... something and my dad caught me." Stiles says.

"But not Scott?"

"I took off. But trying to avoid Stilinski got me in a bit of a- situation. Something bit me." Scott says.

"Something?" You frown.

"Technically someone. Peter Hale." Scott says.

"Peter Hale?! I thought the Hales died in a fire." You frown.

"All but 2. Derek and Peter." Stiles says.

"Derek Hale is still alive?" You gasp.

"Yes, he disappeared after the fire but he came back a couple of years ago." He nods.

"And his uncle turned me into a werewolf. It started with small changes, better hearing, I didn't need my inhaler, I could- do flips and run fast and my reflexes were suddenly so much better. Derek tried to help, kind of. Peter wanted to use me for revenge. And now we're here." Scott shrugs.

"And now we're here." You hum. "I can't believe the Hales are werewolves. So what's this about evil you've been fighting?" You ask.

"The list is long and getting longer. Actually, you know what maybe you can weigh in on something for us." Stiles says.

"Stiles-" Scott warns.

"Sure, what is it?" You ask.

"There's a new guy in town, Theo Raeken." Stiles says.

"Theo Raeken- that name sounds so familiar." You frown.

"He lived here when we were younger, and we were all friends but after his sister died he and his parents moved outta town. So he's new but not new. You've met him for sure on one of your visits. So technically he's not new he just moved back." Scott tells you.

"Okay and is that a good thing or a bad thing?" You ask.

"Good." Scott says at the same time Stiles says,

"Bad."

"Don't start Stiles." Scott rolls his eyes.

"No no you think I'm a paranoid skeptic right? Well, Y/n has no preconceived notions here, she doesn't even remember him so she can be our neutral third party." Stiles says.

"I can see you two are on the same page about this that's great. Alright, Stiles what's your problem with this kid?" You ask.

"Some necessary background first, Scott's an alpha."

"Okay- I've read enough books to know what that means. That's like a pack leader. Yes?" You ask.

"Yes. Usually, you have to kill someone to become an alpha." Stiles nods.

"Scott did you-?"

"No!" Scott says.

"Scott's very anti-killing anyone ever. Even if they deserve it." Stiles shrugs.

"Stiles!"

"What?! I support your endeavors."

"So how did Scott become an alpha?" You ask.

"Apparently some people can become alphas by sheer force of will and that's what Scott did. He needed to protect the people so he made it happen. It means he's what they call a True Alpha." Stiles says.

"Okay?" You nod.

"See Theo says he came back because word's getting around that Scott's an alpha and he just had to come back to become part of Scott's pack but there's something about him that doesn't sit right with me. He doesn't seem like the same person we knew." Stiles says.

"Okay, so Theo's a werewolf?" You clarify.

"Yes." He nods.

"Okay great and I know we've established Scott was bitten right? Was Theo? Or are his parents also werewolves? Is that even possible? Can lycanthropy be genetic?"

"It is possible for it to be genetic, yes, the Hales are genetic werewolves, but Theo was bitten, so his parents are not werewolves to our knowledge." Scott says.

"And Theo's your age?"

"Correct." Stiles nods.

"So there's one detail I'm struggling with here." You say.

"What is it?" Scott asks.

"How did Theo get his parents to move him back to Beacon Hills?"

"What-" Stiles frowns.

"Theo's a kid. Parents only move for like 3 reasons, work, the wellbeing of their child, or extenuating family circumstances. I doubt he went up to his parents and said 'hey mom, hey dad, I'm a werewolf and there's a new alpha in our old home town so we have to move back there because I have to be where he is' so why did his parents move back to Beacon Hills? Because the story you're telling me makes it seem like it was his decision and that's not how that would work unless he's emancipated and came here alone." You say.

"Do I tell you have much I love you?" Stiles asks.

"Not since you were 12." You scoff.

"I will say it more often."

"You do not have to." You shake your head.

"Oh I do. Because you are a genius. Do you see what I mean Scott?! She's right, that's weird."

"I mean, maybe, but we don't know the circumstances. It might not be as suspicious as it sounds." Scott says.

"But it's weird! It sounds suspicious! He's weird!" Stiles says.

"Okay wait has he done anything worth being- hostile towards him?" You ask.

"Well I think-"

"No, Stiles it's a yes or no question has he done anything?" You ask.

"Not yet." He frowns.

"Well unfortunately a few discrepancies aren't enough to label him a supervillain, but someone should get to the bottom of the moving situation because those are some gaping holes."

"See?" Stiles huffs at Scott.

"If he's a bad guy he will eventually show his hand, just be ready for if it happens. And Scott, I know Stiles is- eccentric but you two have been friends for a long time. He's strange but his intuition is hardly ever wrong about these things so don't dismiss." You say.

"Thank you. I think?" Stiles says.

"Look we have bigger issues than Theo right now anyway." Scott sighs.

"What does that mean?" You frown.

"Chimeras." He tells you.

"I think I need a bit more information. Because I know what the word means, but to my knowledge chimeras are cats or dogs that have a mixed phenotype. Like a cat with the fur of a calico and an orange tabby." You say.

"Same concept- kind of. Someone's been making supernatural hybrids. Mixing the DNA of different ones and turning teenagers into mutants." Scott explains.

"Turning teenagers into mutants?" You blink.

"Yeah- we're not sure why but we know that's what they're doing." Stiles nods.

"And this is just the kind of shit that just goes on in this town?" You frown.

"Sometimes." Stiles shrugs.

"More often than not." Scott adds.

"Why did Beacon Hills get interesting after I stopped visiting every year?" You scoff. Your mom and stepdad used to insist on spending as much time with family as possible, especially after your stepdad's sister, Stiles' mom, died, so summers were spent here in Beacon Hills and winters were spent with your mom's family usually but it got harder to keep up with when you got to high school and started other things so you haven't been back here for a while.

"Well, you're back now! And right in the middle of some chaos." Stiles says.

"Are you staying with Stiles and Sheriff Stilinski while you're here?" Scott asks.

"I always do." You shrug.

You spend the afternoon with Scott and Stiles, learning so much about the way they navigate the discord that seems to now be stereotypical for Beacon Hills. The next couple of weeks are honestly wilder than you could've expected, even with Stiles and Scott's occasional storytimes about the last few years.

"Okay, so we have to go to Eichen. You wanna come with?" Stiles asks and you wish this wasn't a phone call so he could see just how confused you are.

"Eichen as in the psychiatric hospital with questionable at best practices?" You ask.

"Yeaaahhh we'd avoid it if we could but- some shit's going down and honestly we could use your help."

"What do you mean by 'some shit's going down'? I mean- sure I'll help but I need more details."

"Lydia's trapped at Eichen house and we need to rescue her."

"I'm guessing you have a plan?" You ask.

"We- do. Get ready I'll be at the house in like 5 minutes."

"Okay?" You frown. Stiles hangs up before you can ask another question so you throw on a jacket and your sneakers just before Stiles honks outside. The explanation of their plan is very much insane and as you walk through the halls of Eichen with Stiles and the infamous Theo, who he can't stand, all you can think about is how absolutely unbelievable this all is. Even when Theo kicks down a huge ass door and Stiles rushes towards Lydia. You watch him fuss over her as they have a hushed conversation that you pointedly try not to eavesdrop on. Until of course, because nothing normal happens in this town, a shirtless man covered in soot? Or ash? Or dirt? It's hard to tell in these tunnels, but he rounds the corner with glowing orange eyes and beelines it to Lydia and Stiles.

"Stiles!" You shout but the dust-covered man shoves him away too quickly and wraps himself around Lydia, erupting into flames as she screams into his chest. "Woah- why is that man on fire!?" You stumble back as the man picks Lydia up and carries her out of the room.

"Don't worry, he's on our side." Stiles says as he dusts himself off and follows the man.

"That's great to know but that doesn't explain why he's emitting flames."

"He's a hellhound."

"I hate that you said that like that's normal. A hellhound?!"

"You know- at a later date, I'll just give you an appendix of every single creature we know of- allies and enemies because I realize waiting for things to come up organically makes for a lot of this." Stiles says.

"I can't believe y'all just know people that can spontaneously combust and that's all cool and chill." You say.

"It's actually quite the opposite of cool and chill." Theo snorts.

"Oh shut up." You roll your eyes.

The next few days are spent memorizing Stiles' appendix while trying to catch up on everything going on and help stop the most current evil which- you'll admit would be way easier if you weren't so far behind on the information but currently, the goal is read up on these awful things called dread doctors.

Today you've decided to do one totally normal easy thing. You'll take your uncle, the sheriff, lunch at his job. When you arrive at the sheriff's station you head straight to your uncle's office.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" He frowns when you knock on the doorframe as you walk in.

"I brought you lunch. I wanted something normal to do." You say sitting down across from him as you set the lunchbox on his desk.

"Ah, adjusting well to the chaos of Beacon Hills?" He chuckles.

"You know I just don't get how you don't completely lose your mind knowing what Stiles gets up to. I know my mom would flip if she found out and I'm 21." You shake your head.

"Oh trust me I do but unfortunately Stiles and his friends have stopped a lot of devastation in this town- it would be foolish to pretend otherwise." He shrugs.

"Hey Sheriff, quick question about the- oh sorry, am I interrupting?" You turn your head at the sound of someone speaking behind you. It takes a moment to click but you gasp when you recognize who it is.

"You're the hellhound." You say.

"Excuse me?" The man blinks at you.

"We met at Eichen. Well that's not correct we didn't meet but I saw you at Eichen. You saved Lydia's life. You look very different dressed and not covered in soot, hellhound." You say.

"Jordan." He says, though your words seem to have caught him by surprise, his cheeks are starting to redden.

"Huh?"

"You called me hellhound. Which is- fine technically but my name is Jordan. Jordan Parrish."

"Oh. Well then it's nice to actually meet you, Jordan Parrish." You say smiling at him.

"Wait what were you doing at Eichen?"

"I'm Stiles's older cousin. I'm staying with the Stilinski's for a while and I guess that means being in the middle of all things Beacon Hills chaos." You shrug.

"In that case, I hope to see more of you."

"Ditto." You smile.

"Parrish. What did you need?" Your uncle goes full sheriff mode on his deputy.

"Uh- it can wait. You should- enjoy your lunch?" Jordan frowns in confusion at the lunchbox on the table.

"Get back to work deputy." John rolls his eyes. Jordan walks backwards out of the room, crashing into something on his way and making you giggle. "You stay away from my deputies y/n." Your uncle warns.

"Oh, but that one's so cute. Come on uncle John." You pout.

"No no no no no, even if he wasn't my employee you cannot date a hellhound you and I both know your mom would kill us all if I let you."

"Mom doesn't have to know he's a hellhound."

"Are you suggesting I lie to your mother?"

"Nooo I'm suggesting you turn a blind eye if I lie to her. Plus I'm an adult there's no guarantee she'll even meet him. What if it doesn't get that far?"

"You've already set your sights haven't you." He sighs.

"I mean kind of yeah. He's so cute! And you should've seen him rescue Lydia, uncle John it was- so cool!"

"Just- be careful. Jordan's a good employee and seems like a decent man but you never know."

You spend another half hour with your uncle before deciding you've disrupted enough of his day. On your way out you spot Jordan has his desk and make a detour.

"Hi deputy." You say leaning against the desk. Jordan glances up at you with wide eyes. After a moment he clears his throat and turns back to his computer seemingly to hide the pink creeping across his cheeks.

"Hi. You on your way out?" He asks.

"Yes, but before I go I just want to do one thing." You say grabbing a pen and sticky note from atop his desk. You quickly scribble your phone number on it and place it in front of him. "You want to see more of me. Make it happen. I don't like leaving things to chance." You say and before he can even respond you leave. Let's see if he takes the hint.

***

[kikithecoconut]

Men Can Be Killed

Dick Grayson || Bruce Wayne || Jason Todd

Word count: 985

A/N: um. yeah so this happened. i am very tired i am unsure that it all makes sense but i had a very good time writing it!! so enjoy,

The beating of drums were rhythmical. The way he fought with his escrima sticks was rhythmical, but the way his fists beat against the face of the Clown Prince of Crime was anything but. It was messy, it was uncoordinated and it was dangerous. 

He’d knocked out several of his teeth, and now the facepaint that was so  prominent on the clown’s face was flaky and cracked. His usually vibrant red lipstick was now a dark, thick red where teeth had been pushed down his throat and the skin of his lips tore, and his usually white face was now flesh.

It made him realise that the Joker was just a man, and men could be killed.

Jason had just been a boy, and boys could be slaughtered.

Lying to his father wasn’t something he’d like to make a habit of, but Dick could not justify killing the Joker to him when it tore down everything the Batman stood for. Until the day his brother died, Richard Grayson did not kill, but morals became unstable, he found, when you’re standing in front of your little brother’s killer. It had been an immediate reaction, the clown hadn’t even been allowed to laugh before Dick pushed off towards him.

 “The asylum was too kind to you,” he said softly, but rage dripped from every single word, “my father was too kind to you.” 

“He should have killed you- he should have fucking killed you-” Dick raised his arm up, prepared to swing again.

It would have hit, if that black, gloved hand hadn’t closed around his wrist and held it there, in the air. The air was his domain; he was the Robin, a Flying Grayson, once upon a time. But here, he was out of control. 

“Enough.”

Batman’s voice had been a constant in his life since he had been twelve years old. It had been the voice of the man who took him in, the man who soothed him on nights where it had been too much. The right voice, the voice of justice in a city of chaos. He’d followed it blindly. He was the beacon in the night, in the dark, and he’d stumbled towards it like a blind man. To him, Batman could do no wrong. He was a saint.

Dick did not lower his arm, and so Batman flipped him onto his front, his knee on his back. He held him there, like a cop arresting a crook, arm held back, his head turned to the side so he could still breathe. He wasn’t a crook, though. He was a brother, a son; drowning in a sea of grief. It held him down, suffocated him.

“I’m doing him justice, I’m doing what you couldn’t-'' He spat, struggling against his fathers grip. His mask was slipping down his nose. It never did sit right after Jason broke his nose during training once. Bruce’s free hand moved to tenderly push it back up. Dick thrashed against the movement. Tenderness was unwelcome in this situation.

He couldn’t see the Joker anymore, but he could hear the wheezing from the man. His ragged breathing, his coughs and splutters. He should’ve killed him faster. Why did he draw it out?

Because the clown had tortured his brother like a bad movie. It had dragged out for longer than it should have, then ended abruptly. A bomb, tearing apart the warehouse and his brother along with it. He often wondered what Jason’s last thoughts had been, if he’d been conscious enough to have any.

“This isn’t justice,” his father snapped, “this is revenge. We enact justice, this is not what we do, Di- Nightwing.” Bruce had called for backup - Jim Gordon - on his way to the scene of the crime. He could hear the sirens now, he just had to talk Dick down, keep him down until the car arrived. “Do you have no shame? Do you not feel- You let Jason die, and now you’re letting his killer walk free again.” Dick’s words struck true in the heart of Bruce Wayne. Did his code truly preside above all else? “If either of us killed him, we’d be just as bad.” “Jason was a kid, he was just- he should’ve been doing homework, reading those fucking books he loved- he should still be doing that now. If we killed the fucking clown, we would not be just as bad.” Jim Gordon’s car pulled up at the scene, and the commissioner stepped out.

“Cuffs,” was all the Bat said to him, and, because arguing with a grieving man who could easily snap his bones was not a good idea, Gordon handed them over. He assumed they were for the clown, they were always for the clown. From whatever street back to Arkham.

But he watched Batman put the handcuffs on the wrists of Nightwing, and watched as he removed the kid’s weapons and laid them out on the ground, and then as he hauled him up.

“Take him to the station, put him in a cell. Just keep him in there, Jim.” He instructed, taking Dick to the car and pushing him in the back. “This was not the way.” He said to his son, before closing the door and walking to the Joker.

He cuffed the clown, and practically dragged him to the batmobile. The back of the car opened up, the seats presented themselves. Bruce put the now unconscious Joker into the seat and closed up the back. It was the quietest he’d ever seen the clown. It gave him a moment to really wonder what a Gotham without the Joker would be like.

Something settled deep in his gut at the thought, something unpleasant.

What was a hero who couldn’t bring down his biggest enemy permanently?

A coward, he supposed. That’s what Dick would scream at him.

Tomorrow.

Arkham came first, Dick could scream tomorrow.

[calibabii21]

|| pretty boy, mirror me || z.hao

pairing: inexperienced bf!ZhangHao x experienced gf!reader

genre: smut. that’s it.

warning(s): crossdressing, reacharound handjob, there's a mirror involved ruined orgasm..think that’s it. *minors. do. not. interact.*

wc: 819

a/n: I didn't get the chance to write the second day's, so I'll be combining days 2 & 3 if that's okaaayyy. I plan on doing quite a few of these, so some may be shorter than my usual works. hope you all enjoy <3

*disclaimer* my writings are purely fictional and for entertainment purposes. read that again if you're thinking about coming at me.

"Are you ready baby?" There's a few beats of silence before the timid creak of the bathroom door sounds. A genuine gasp escapes you as Zhang Hao walks out with a slight skip in his step. "Oh, you look so pretty- come here honey." Your arm is outstretched to him, beaconing him closer.

You gently pull him to stand in front of you, "What took so long baby?" He remains quiet, but you notice right arm tucked behind his back and narrow your eyes at him. "What are you hiding from me.." But he opts for wordlessly revealing his phone to you; showing the pictures he'd taken in the restroom.

Taking the device, you study the photos- zooming in on a few points that catch your eye. "So this is what you were doing.." You look up at him as he begins fidgeting, though from anticipation rather than anxiety. "How do you feel wearing this?"

He adorably grins at you as he picks at the ruffles on his skirt, naturally swaying. "I'm very happy." You can only smile in return as you caress his face, "Well you look very pretty in these thigh highs. Thighs looks so beautiful in this skirt." The two of you share a brief sweet kiss, you soon moving further back onto the bed.

The next cue is a pat on the bed in the space between your legs. Hao sits back to your chest, immediately relishing in your soft touch skating his skin. Lips ghosting his neck. "Such pretty shoulders you have baby."

A shudder can be felt as your breath fans him- skin turning a gorgeous pink shade. "You know, for someone so lacking in experienced, you are doing so well."

You hear him let out soft mewls and sighs, "Well that's because you make it so easy." Your light touches continue to relax him, "Yeah? You want to keep going?" He nods eagerly, his face becoming an expression of shock as he tilts his head back.

"Um, is that.." You, too, look toward the roof of the bed, instantly grinning at the sight of the mirror. Hao's body seems reactive to seeing himself erotically laid between your legs through the mirror. "Can we..can we..use it?"

Pleasantly surprised, you happily oblige, "Of course, my Angel, you've been such a good boy. What is it you'd like to do?" The shakiness in his short breaths is audible, "Can you touch me?" His innocent eyes looking back at you have you folding without a second thought.

You lower yourself a little so that the both of you are the perfect angle to see your reflections. His skirt is now flipped up, giving you a view of the panties he also put on. "Hm.. They're a little big- but you still look very pretty. My pretty little boy."

He squirms in attempt to get you to touch him firmly, your hand only lightly tracing the outline of his growing erection. "Please." His feet begin kicking in a fit, eyes shutting tightly as you fully grip him without warning, "AH, yes!"

You pull him outside of the panties humming at the sight, "Mmm, look at how pretty your cock is." Whether he's flustered or not, you can't tell with his eyes squeezed shut and his breathing shallow. But you were getting tired of repeating yourself "I said look at your pretty cock"

He gasps and his eyes snap open once your hand encircles his throat, forcing his gaze to be on the mirror and he lets out a loud whimper. "M-More, please." You sass him back, but still give him what he asks for.

"You've barely been listening to me, yet you're throwing out commands." He chuckles brattily through deep breaths, "I was a good enough boy for you to let me choose what we do." Your response is to grip him tightly in one hand while circling his tip with the palm of your other.

"N-No! It's too much- 'm gonna cum, please." But you ignore his words, continuing your merciless strokes. The hand on top now moving to massage his balls and the rim of his tight hole. "Be a good boy and hold it."

You already know he won't be able to keep it in, but you provoke him anyway, leaning your lips close to his ear. "Do you hear how wet you got for me?" His whines increase in pitch and volume, while just as he tips over the edge, you switch to slow strokes.

Through the mirror you can see the different emotions flash through his eyes as he cums in your hand. Frustration, confusion, arousal. You were learning so much about your sweet little panda. "F-uck momm- more. Please."

Your heart skips at the title he almost called you. He cries out as you remove your hand, scrambling to keep you touching him. No baby, it's your turn." You snap the garter belt against his skin, "Use this and mirror me."

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

Blue Skies and Dark Clouds

Sky's backstory! (Ao3)

(And unfortunately because it's a Backstory I and everyone else must suffer the sense that things aren't Resolved lol)

Summary: Zelda & Link have always been inseparable. Now, Link fights Demise, the creature that separated them, even as he's on the verge of collapse... when the battle is done, Link just can't seem to slot himself back next to Zelda as smoothly as they used to.

Warnings: injury, ignoring injury, spoilers for the end of Skyward Sword but like. So is the comic. Zelda has Hylia Guilt annnd... angst. Ye.

-

There was a time before Demons and Goddess reborn. Before endless cycles of battle. When the sky was blue and cloudy. The air crisp. Skyloft had felt much bigger back then. When it was the only place they knew. When the place beneath the clouds was a legend, a fantasy.

The little orphan boy followed the headmasters daughter closely, as he often did when they were young. Small hand in hers. The pair were still equally small, and had recently traded wardrobes. Link's old dress looked much nicer on Zelda, that was for sure. Link also much preferred Zelda's old tunic shirt on himself. It was especially nice because it smelled like her still.

“Hey- er- Zelda!” Groose said, waving excitedly at her. His red hair was tied up in a little ponytail right at the top of his head.

Link leaned over to whisper to Zelda “Umbrella.”

She laughed, “Link, be nice.”

Groose frowned, putting his hands on his hips. “What did he just say?”

“Oh, he's just being silly.” Zelda said with another giggle.

“Hmph. Well, I just learned how to do a loop-d-loop with my loftwing! Do ya wanna watch?”

Link shifted to hide behind Zelda.

“Oh, not right now. Link and I are gonna go looking for butterflies,” Zelda said. She gestured her head at Link behind her.

“...Oh.” Groose mumbled. He frowned, folding his arms, “Well when are you not doing something with Link?”

Zelda considered. She shrugged, “I don't know?”

“Uhg, why do you even hang out with him!? All he does is stare at clouds and catch bugs! How is that any fun? He doesn't even talk!” Groose complained, throwing his hands up.

Link hid further behind Zelda. She frowned, stepping forward, “He's my best friend! He's super sweet and funny and super cool! So maybe you should shut up! I don't think I wanna be your friend if you can't be friends with Link!”

Groose pouted, “Well…n- Nevermind then!” he turned and ran.

Link watched him go, then looked at Zelda. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“I'll always protect you!” Zelda exclaimed, turning to take his hand and raise it to the sky with hers. “We'll be best friends forever and ever and nobody is ever gonna get between us!”

Link smiled and nodded firmly.

-*-

10 years later and nothing would get between him and his best friend. Not even the Demon King.

The sky was dark. Oppressive dark magic filled the endless world of storm. Lightning made of pure rage and malice crashed through the swirling dark clouds.

The Master Sword raised Skyward like a beacon of defiance. The lightning struck down upon him. Ae channeled all the boiling rage of his own and redirected it against the Demon King. Before it could consume him.

Link ignored the pain crashing through his body. Ignored the insistent chime from Fi reminding him he was very close to outright collapsing or even dying. Ae could do this. He would be fast enough, he would be strong enough, he would be smart enough. Nothing. Would. Take Zelda. From him. Again!

He slashed repeatedly into Demise's chest. His blood boiled in his veins. His gaze sharp and focused. Aer breaths made with careful precision.

Demise was strong and firm. His movements sharp and heavy. Link's legs shook with the efforts to remain standing as Demise's blade struck against his shield. Link flipped out of Demise's range, eyes flickering at the demonic skies. There was no holy light here to call. Only electric power and anger.

Link rose his sword Skyward as Demise strode toward him. Stalking aer like prey.

Link grunted and stumbled slightly against the force of pure energy crashing against his blade. Fi captured it, sparks crackling dangerously close to his skin. He panted, swallowing down the fear closing around his throat. He swung his sword toward Demise as he rose his own. The blades cracked together.

Lightning erupted over Link's body, the crash shocking his senses. His body seizing from the God's power. It felt nothing like the electric powers found in the Desert. It was seared into him with pure contempt for his existence.

A buzz in the ozone. Hair standing on end. Demise's electrified blade struck against his chest, pushing Link back into the pool of thin waters. Link could barely feel aer face. He breathed out slowly.

Ae struggled to take another breath in.

The sky was hazy and dark. Get up. Get up. GET. UP. He refused to slow down now.

Link rolled as Demise's blade crashed down against where he would've been. Ae tumbled into a stand, pulling out a half-full bottle of red liquid. He downed all the flower-sweet crimson potion in one gulp. Ae choked on it, feeling it buzz against the fuzz in his brain and the cotton in his mouth.

He dodged another attempt at a blow, flipping backwards. Ae dropped the empty bottle entirely. He grabbed the Master Sword and thrust it to the Sky again. His eyes focused even as his vision seemed to play tricks with him.

Lighting cracked around the blade. Zelda's hair golden and long like a flash of light.

Link yelled and sliced the electric power at the God with breakneck speed. Zelda's smile as she demonstrated an arching motion with a wooden sword.

Zelda. Limp and unconscious, warm brown color drained from her face. Her body draped in Groose's arms. Link hit Demise with a flurry of quick, precise strikes. Aer blood pounded in aer veins. Fi's blade nearly glowed, shining and swift against the shadows of the Demon King.

He pushed Demise onto his back with a splash of ink dark waters. He screamed a yell of rage and lept. Electricity cracked around Fi's blade. The pulsing rage of it almost seemed to follow his whim, now. He drove the sword into Demise's chest. He was strangely still for a flash. The sky rolled with thunder. Link flipped back. Ready.

Demise stumbled back to a stand, wavering. His blade rose, then fell, crashing to the ground. Ghirahim's sword form vanished in a flurry of dark smoke. Link glared intently. There had to be another move. Something the demon had prepared. A beastal form? Like the Imprisoned?

Demise panted, almost laughing, “Extraordinary. You stand as a paragon to your kind, human.”

Link stared, unsettled. He shifted, keeping his sword close and ready. Briefly, he glanced around for a sign that Ghirahim might materialise to attack him from above or behind.

“You fight like no man or demon I have ever known. Though this is not the end.”

They both labored for breath. Link couldn't see any inkling of a transformation. His scales shimmered slightly, but not with dark power. It seemed more like light, crackling and overpowering the dark that created the demon.

“My hate… never perishes. It is born anew in a cycle with no end! I will rise again!” Demise exclaimed to the windless world.

Link's brows furrowed deeper. His breaths felt shallow and difficult. He ignored blistering pain shooting through his arm and hand. He would see this through. Ae had to stay standing. He had to. Just. Stay standing.

Demise raised his hand slowly, pointing, “Those like you… Those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero… they are eternally bound to this curse.” Demise heaved a laboured breath. “An Incarnation of my hatred shall ever follow your kind, dooming them to wander a blood-soaked sea of darkness for all time!” The Demon King laughed, maniacal as his form shimmered like a ghost.

Link's heart pounded heavily against his chest. A booming painful cacophony. He held firm. Ready and alert even as Demise vanished into a puff of smoke.

Fi chimed. Link glanced at the glowing sword, his friend, expression softening. Ae shifted to raise the sword Skyward, slower than ae usually would. His arm ached and stung with the effort.

The lingering darkness gathered into the blade. Fi spoke into the endless sky, finally turning a peaceful blue. “I have confirmed the eradication of the Demon King.” Link let out a heaved sigh of relief, looking up to the clouds. He felt the lingering tension in his body fade. His vision swirled and wavered, the blues and whites hazy. Ae felt close to collapse. He stiffened back up again. Ae could pull it together. Ae needed to get to Zelda. Check if she was alright. Prove to Impa and his goddess that he and Fi were successful. Prove to Zelda she was finally safe.

“His residual consciousness has been absorbed into the Master Sword…” Fi said softly. His sword arm shook slightly. He glanced at Fi. “And is now sealed away.” Link closed his eyes, and light returned him to the sealed grounds.

-*-

“Hey, wake up sleepy head.” A soft voice said. Gentle fingers brushing against his forehead. Zelda. His brows pinched and he turned further into the mattress… Which didn't feel quite like a mattress. It was warm and the fabric was wrong. Not to mention the vague sense everything was moving.

“Link? Please wake up,” Zelda said, sounding more frightened, sad. Ae groaned, shifting to open his eyes. Zelda seemed like she was glowing. A blur of pale blonde and a white dress. Just how often did he need reminding she was a reincarnated goddess? So far beyond his reach… Now she had to glow to be beyond his sight even with her next to him?

“Oh, oh good-” She said. She definitely looked like she was walking. Why were they moving if he was asleep-

“He's gonna be fine,” Groose said somewhere above him, “He was moving and grooving just fine for at least 20 minutes, right?” Oh. Groose was carrying aer. They'd said goodbye to Fi, to Impa- twice- and he'd looked back at the Master Sword and… then… then…. The world had lurched upward and everything was bright and blank.

“I'm just worried his injuries are worse than they look… Goodness, his face-” Zelda's hand brushed against aer cheek. It stung. He made a soft whine, pulling away slightly. “Oh, oh! I'm so sorry-” she stammered, sounding a lot more like she used to when she fretted over aer. Ae giggled despite aerself. He missed her so much… He tried to reach for her hand, but his right side felt pinned, tingling with pain and exertion. He shifted and brought his left hand to her hand instead.

“We're going to take you home, okay? It's going to be okay! It's fine, you're fine.” Zelda moved her hand away and became a blur of motion. With the little hiccups Link had to assume she was wiping away more tears…

Link sighed softly. He briefly considered demanding Groose let him walk on his own… but… this felt nice. Ae was exhausted anyway. So instead he pulled on Groose's shirt to get him to move closer to Zelda. Groose didn't quite catch the intentions, and instead he leaned his big dumb head down to obscure all of Link's currently very limited vision.

He glared lightly.

“You look like a pirate with that squinty look you're doing.” Groose commented. Link smacked his chest. “See Zelda, ae's fine! He probably only collapsed because he's been running on no sleep for like a month.”

“Ohhhhh,” She whined, not sounding comforted at all.

Link reached to her again but instead of Zelda's touch, ae felt a billow of wind and heard an unmistakable chime-

“Woah! Ally-up!” Groose exclaimed with a whoop and they were flung upwards into the air. Link completely lost sight of Zelda in the whirlwind. A sense of panic and dread clutched his chest and his throat.

Groose held onto him tightly. Groose whistled. A screech from a loftwing. Link yelped as he got nearly squished between a body of feathers and Groose. “Sorry sorry-” Groose whispered. “That could've been gentler.”

Link struggled to adjust aer self enough to get into a more secure and comfortable position. “Stop squirming, you're gonna knock us off balance. it'll only be a few minutes.” Groose grumbled.

Link snorted a huff. A red blur swooped above them, shrieking.

“WOAH you big red brute, he's fine! I've got him!” Groose exclaimed to Crimson.

Link wanted to clarify just who the big red brute was here, Crimson or Groose, but the joke couldn't make it past a wheeze in his throat.

Link hooked his left arm around Groose's shoulder and pulled himself up closer to a sitting position. Groose and his Loftwing both squawked in protest. The world spun and blurred around him. Something wooshed back and forth in his ears. It didn't feel like the wind. His own heartbeat, maybe. He reached up to his Loftwing's beak, giving him a gentle pat. Crimson churred, satisfied, and backed away, swooping to fly under them.

“Oh. Thanks,” Groose grumbled, “...Dunderhead.”

Link didn't have the energy to argue. Blue. Blue blue blue- why was Zelda's loftwing the color of the sky, why was she so hard to see- “Zelda-” Link rasped. Voice quiet and scratchy. It felt like the first time ae had spoken aloud since Zelda had fallen through the clouds…It might have been.

“Oh. She's just ahead of us. She's speeding like a firecracker too, I think she's gonna grab some people to meet us when we land.”

Link struggled to look into the distance enough to spot her. It was harder to breathe in the sky. The air thin, his breaths shallow and wheezing. The blue skies all blurred back out into darkness. Aer head lulled before ae could stop it.

“Link?!”

Blur. Grainy moments. Their voices were so loud but so distant. His body heavy and light all at once. It was just too hard to wake up…

“OH I think he's waking up!” Zelda shouted over her shoulder. Practically in his ears, but he didn't care. Her face was much closer and thankfully much clearer.

Footsteps thundered into the room. Groose, Link assumed, from the stumbling sound. A slower footfall entered shortly after, Headmaster Gaepora maybe?

Link didn't turn to look. Ae just smiled softly at Zelda. She smiled back, eyes teary. Ae wished she could stop crying… it was over. She said so herself.

Link reached up to wipe her tears. He frowned softly as he noted the bandage wrapped around the entirety of his right hand and arm. It hadn't been that bad… right?

Zelda leaned against his touch, grabbing his left wrist with both her hands. “Stop scaring me, you jerk.”

He slowly pulled his hands from hers, signing, “I'm okay. Tired.”

“Have you really not slept for a month? I know better than to trust Groose at his word but-”

Groose huffed, but didn't interrupt with protest. …Weird, Link decided.

Zelda brushed a thumb under his left eye, where dark circles were very likely to be. He closed his eyes, sighing. “You really look so tired.” She said softly.

Ae couldn't really dignify that with a response. Sleep had become a battle of its own lately. Dreams of the myriad of ways he could've lost Zelda had been near constant any time he'd slept long enough to dream.

She leaned over and hugged him, voice lowering to a whisper. “I'm sorry. I didn't- you're too kind. I would hate me if I was you. So much. I made you do such dangerous and horrible things in my name-”

“No-” Link whispered… Don't say that-

Zelda leaned back so she could look at him.

“I trust-” His signs were cut off without his input. His arm shook, tingling with pain pain pain- How did he ignore it before? Electricity seizing his heart with a slash of a blade. Burns curling against his hand-

“Link?”

The shaking slowed. Ae swallowed heavily, staring at aer hand.

“Zelda, may I?” Gaepora asked softly.

She nodded, making space for Gaepora to sit beside them. Zelda leaned into her father's side, sighing softly. Gaepora smiled at her, kissing the top of her head before turning back to Link.

“Link, what caused these injuries? I haven't seen anything like this before.”

He sighed, forming the words carefully with his hands, far too focused on the motions to feel anything more than monotone. “Lightning. Sword. Demon.” He hesitated, then mimed raising the Master Sword up, and the crackle of lightning traveling through it. Trapped by Fi. Then a strike to his blade, and chaos, lightning jumping from his sword and through his arm.

“Ah. That explains the intensity of the burns on your hand.” Gaepora took his right hand gently to look at, carefully. “Do you feel anything?”

Link snorted, grimacing a bit exaggeratedly, “Yes. O W.”

Gaepora shook his head, very gently squeezing his pinky, one of the least injured fingers, “Can you feel the touch, though?”

He frowned, focusing. Slowly, ae nodded.

Gaepora hummed sceptically, letting go, “I'm taking that as ‘a little’.”

Link sighed, shifting to lay flat, looking up at the ceiling. Ae supposed the scepticism was fair.

“Well. The main thing I'm concerned with is how shallow your breathing sounds and how hard your heart seemed to be working earlier. The burns and cuts should heal, but we have no way to know how that lightning will affect you.” Gaepora said softly, “We'll keep watching you, okay? Just be careful.”

Link nodded, closing his eyes again.

-*-

The woosh and thunk of the ax against the wood was pleasantly familiar, even if Link wasn't the one cutting. He watched Zelda take a final whack at the tree. It crackled and fell neatly. He sighed. She was getting the hang of it very quickly. She didn't even need any advice. With the dangerous section done, he decided he might as well help more than just supervise. The site they'd set up building the house was within shouting distance. He carefully grabbed a finished bundle of wood and started walking.

“Link! What are you doing? Be careful!” Zelda shouted as she rushed toward him.

He groaned loudly. He was going to start screaming every time he heard those words. He continued walking. He was being careful with this batch of wood, thank you very much. He wasn't even using his bandaged hand.

Zelda grabbed the wood from him, “Here, I can do it-” She said with a smile. After she'd already taken the wood. She adjusted her grip, “Do you remember what part of the frame this was for?”

Link frowned, “I had it!” He protested, throwing his hands up.

“I know!” Zelda said, smiling far too wide, “It's fine though, I can do it! It's barely anything compared to what you've done…”

He looked up to the sky, but he knew the Goddess wasn't going to guide him. … She was trying, however. He sighed. “It's for the right wall.”

“Oh perfect!” Zelda started walking, and Link sighed, following.

“So you just want me to find the right woods, and that's it, huh?” ae mumbled.

“You really should be resting, I have it handled by now-” Zelda started. She looked at him, and something about his furrowed expression must have made her smile fall slightly. She turned to look forward, “You helped a lot with the plans, you're really doing more than you need to!”

“I'm a woodworker,” Link said as an explanation. He needed to do something with his hands. Ae couldn't just sit around while everyone else helped build their house.

“And you're fantastic at it, but that doesn't mean we can't help you!” Zelda said, “Please… just let me help you.” She said softly.

Ae sighed. With another glance up at the sky, ae nodded. Silence stretched between them. It felt awkward… When did silence between them start feeling so uncomfortable?

“I love you.” Link mumbled, just to say it. To fill the space. To confirm they were still best friends.

“I know.” Zelda said, voice thick with some sort of sadness. A guilt he couldn't figure out how to stop her from believing. “I love you too.”

He watched her for a moment, carrying the burden he had intended to take. Ae sighed, gripping his bandaged hand. It stung slightly still, sending a tingle through his whole arm. “I know,” he nearly whispered, feeling like he had to force it out... Strange, how he had to grow out of his childhood silence all over again.

“Oh there you two are!” Groose shouted with a wave. “Look!” He gestured to the house's frame, nearly complete already.

Link smiled softly, “You're insane.”

“Oh wow. Impressive work Groose!” Zelda cheered. She laughed, running over to hug Groose. He blinked, face flushing bright red over her shoulder. “It's going to be so beautiful!” Zelda cheered, squeezing him.

Link laughed and meandered around the structure. He smiled, looking it over. Groose was a fantastic engineer. He sat in the grass, closing his eyes to imagine the finished work. He could just picture Zelda's fiber art hanging in the rafters and walls. Groose's little workout space in a corner. His work bench in another- his hand started shaking again. He opened his eyes, feeling a wetness well in the corners. Would he ever get back to whittling? It certainly wasn't particularly safe with a shaky hand. ...A lot of things weren't, it seemed.

A warm body settled next to him, and then another on his other side. Zelda leaned in, “Are you okay? Is it hurting? Do you need something?”

Link swallowed and shook aer head. “I'm fine.” He sucked in a breath, rubbing his eyes gently. “Just got lost in my thoughts.”

Groose nodded softly, “Sounds like you.”

Link laughed, “I guess it does.” Lost. He was always lost, wasn't he?

Zelda nuzzled in and hugged him. “Can we help you through them?” She said softly.

“No,” Link whispered impulsively. Surprising himself. Zelda looked startled, confused. Ae bit aer lip. “It's nothing bad. I was just imagining what it'd look like when it's done.” He pulled a smile on, glancing between the pair of them.

“It'll be fantastic," Zelda said softly.

“It'll be Groozsume!” Groose announced.

“That doesn't sound like what you think it sounds like,” Link laughed.

“Shut up, it totally does.” Groose laughed, ruffling Link's hair.

The trio laughed and snuggled together.

“It'll be beautiful,” Link whispered softly. He sighed, closing his eyes. The breeze tossed his hair. Warmth on either side buffetting any windchill. Zelda's perfume was still calming. But he could feel her nervous energy, her suffocating concern curled against him.

Yet… Ae would always prefer to suffer her nerves and worry over not having her near at all. He just needed her near. They'd figure the rest out. Eventually.

[novankenn]

Holding Back

Chapter Two (4/4)

/== Chapter List ===/

Everyone within the JNPR/RWBY circle was on edge, by the time combat class arrived. Everyone aside from Jaune, that was. He had formulated his plan of attack, and that was just what he planned to do. Attack and attack. Pyrrha's hands fidgeted as she held the short length of ribbon Ren had been able to get. Jaune had gone over the process to properly secure the bindings, several times; but she was still nervous. She was going to be in essence hindering Jaune's ability to defend himself, and even though she knew this Shadow Skill worked around that, she still had reservations.

Class started and Professor Goodwitch quickly took control with the announcement of the challenge. Pyrrha escorted Jaune to the combat ring. He was in his hoodie sneakers and a pair of night pants, while across the space was Cardin, standing alone decked out in his standard combat gear. His heavy mace balanced over his shoulder.

“Ready for a nap, Jauney-boy?” Cardin attempted to taunt, a sneer on his face. “I think I can give you a hand in taking one.”

“Enough!” Professor Goodwitch’s voice silenced the entire room. “Mr Winchester has enacted the Challenge Clause as per Beacon’s Student dispute clauses. Mr Arc, what is your decision?”

“I accept the challenge.” Glynda nodded.

 “As the one challenged, you have the right to dictate the victory conditions. Will you be using the standard Tournament Rules?”

“No.” Cardin just chuckled darkly, while Glynda, his teammates, friends and the rest of the class were shocked into silence. “Knock Out Only.”

“Fine by me.” Cardin responded, as he lifted his mace from his shoulder and stepped into the combat ring. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Yes, let's.” Jaune agreed, as he proceeded to flip off his sneakers, revealing his bare feet, and then much to the surprised delight of much of the female population, and some of the male’s as well, he removed his hoodie. Jaune was not a bulky mass of muscle like many huntsmen in-training. He was lithe, slim and muscular.  Jaune did not have a bodybuilder’s physique. He had more of a fighter’s build, or that of an athlete. Many would rightly assume that this was Pyrrha’s doing, and they would be right, at least to a point. 

“Jaune, are you sure?” Pyrrha asked as Jaune held his hands out towards her.

“It’s okay Pyr,” Jaune gave his teammate and partner a confident smile, “I can do this.”

“I’m still concerned.” Pyrrha countered as she began to wind and tie the ribbon about his wrists. “He’s going to try and hurt you.”

“And I’m going to do the same to him.” Jaune stated as he tested the bindings. “This is good. Thank you, Pyr.”

“Be careful out there.” Pyrrha instructed him, before biting her lip and then leaning forward to his and everyone else’s surprise and placing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do without you around.”

Jaune had to take more than a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down before stepping into the combat ring.  But once inside, he turned his full attention to Cardin. Jaune knew he was handicapped in more than one way. Obviously with his hands bound he was limiting his offensive options, and further compounding that issue with not having a weapon. But those were only the limitations others saw. Jaune saw more, Cardin was armed and armoured, not a huge deal. He had trained against his father under his mother’s watchful eye for just these types of situations. No, the real handicap for Jaune was the nature of his style. Already, he could see multiple ways he could end the match. Only one problem, each one was lethal.  His mother had told him to go all out, and he would, but he would still need to temper his attacks.

“Even assholes like you shouldn’t die needlessly.” Jaune muttered under his breath as he allowed his body to move into position.

“You brought this on yourself, Jauney-boy. You should have just taken those two bitches into your room, and let everyone else get some sleep.

[ghostiewriter]

👻 how about stoner!jj getting high and going to a football game just to see cheerleader!kie (congrats on 1k by the way I guess it's impressive or whatever)

ew thanks or whatever

...

Fuck.

That was the only word echoing through his foggy mind as he pushed through the crowd of students, teachers and parents. There were bright colours everywhere—and he fucking meant everywhere. No matter where he looked, no matter which direction he turned his head, the school’s colours seemed to be splattered across every possible surface, bright and irritable and burning into his retinas. 

Must be an important game, he briefly thought to himself as he bumped shoulder against shoulder, being pushed around the crowd as he made his way to the bleachers and slumped himself down into a free spot.

JJ Maybank didn’t care about football games or school spirit. In all his years of living, he could count on one hand the amount of games he had been to and all of them had been against his will. JJ Maybank wouldn’t be caught dead at a football game, sitting in the bleachers in support of his school. 

And yet here he was, beanie pulled over his messy blond hair, with hooded, red-rimmed eyes as he listened to fans scream and chant and sing along to whatever fucking song the marching band were playing. 

He wasn’t even sure why he was here. 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, GIVE IT UP FOR KILDARE COUNTY HIGH’S SPECTACULAR CHEER TEAM!”

Okay, so that was a lie. He knew very well why he was here, and it had everything to do with a certain brown-eyed girl and a bitter feeling in his chest that he was unable to rid himself off, no matter how much he smoked. 

Fridays were their days. Fridays were the days he would stay late after school for Kiara to finish practice before giving her a ride out to their favourite spot, sitting in the back of his truck and passing a joint between them until the fucking sun set. 

Instead, Friday was the day Kiara had to blow him off for a stupid football game.

He knew it wasn’t personal, not in the slightest. But his brain couldn’t seem to grasp that concept, and neither could the burning sensation in his gut that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried. He was jealous. He was fucking jealous over a stupid fucking football game. 

And now here he was, sitting in the bleachers whilst he was high off his fucking head, all because he wanted to see his girl. 

His fucking girl.

“LET’S GO, FALCONS!”

Despite the buzzing crowd and loud screams, he heard her voice like it was a beacon in all the chaos. His eyes quickly focused on her, standing there at the bottom of the bleachers in her short skirt and tank top, a smile plastered on her face like she knew it was damn picture-perfect. 

She looks pretty, he thought to himself. 

She always looks pretty, he added a few moments later.

JJ couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she went through cheer after cheer. As she jumped and flipped around, as she captured the crowd’s attention like she always did. He couldn’t tear his damn eyes away from her because she was the reason he was there. 

Even as the game started and the cheerleaders stood by the sidelines, letting out encouraging chants. 

Even as the buzzing sound indicating the end of the game echoed through the pitch and people jumped up in celebration. 

Even as everyone rushed to flood the pitch and congratulate the team before heading towards the after party. 

He couldn’t keep his eyes off his pretty girl. 

“Never thought I’d see you at a game,” her voice was smooth and teasing, and god he wanted to drown in the sound of it. 

“I would’ve showed up earlier if you told me that uniform looks even hotter when you’re dancing around in it,” he replied with a lazy smile on his lips. 

Her eyes glimmered with amusement. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, baby,” he nodded with a hum. 

“You got your truck?” Kiara asked, her eyes meeting his and he was surprised to see a heat that matched his own that was burning in the pit of his stomach. 

“Of course.” 

“Good,” Kiara smiled and reached down to grab his hand, their fingers intertwining like it was a reflex. “You can show me just how much you like this uniform then.”

Football games were still fucking stupid, but Kiara Carrera made them damn worth his time.

...

[thebisexualdogdad]

Could I request a bottonIsaac smut where he’s just completely needy and wanting for his older daddy bf while in heat? the bf would be like a Joe Manganiello type guy

Isaac Lahey x Male!reader

*Isaac is in his mid 20's in this*

After Beacon Hills Isaac moved around a lot, he didn't stay in one place for longer than a few months because he wasn't interested in getting close to anyone again.

He made his way around the world eventually returning to the states where he landed in New Orleans.

He stayed far away from other supernaturals in the years since he left his original pack but here he met one werewolf he couldn't resist.

An Alpha who was set on making Isaac his the moment he saw him across the bar.

You took Isaac home that night and you both knew this would be more than just a one night stand.

He denied your every request to join your pack but he did treat you like his alpha, giving in to your every need.

Sweat dripped down your forehead as you roughly fucked Isaac on your kitchen table, his legs in the air nearly bent in half.

His hard cock slaps your stomach with every thrust and he's so close to cumming when you suddenly pull out of him.

"What the fuck," he growls.

"What have I told you about talking to me like that?" You say putting your hand around his throat and lightly squeezing.

"I'm sorry Y/N," he gulps.

"Tell me what you want Isaac," you say tugging on his ear lobe with your teeth.

"I want you to fuck me," he grunts.

"I already knew that," you chuckle, "I've been fucking you over six months now, tell me what you want specifically."

"I want- I want you to flip me over and fuck me until you fill me up with cum," he says.

"Keep going," you say, your hand squeezing a little harder.

"I want you to leave scratch marks down my back, bruises on my hips and my ass so red it hurts for days," he goes on.

"That's a good boy," you say, kissing him sweetly before quickly flipping him over.

You have Isaac bent over the table and harshly push your cock back inside him.

"Fuck," he cries out.

You start pounding him from behind, one hand slapping his ass and the other gripping his hips.

"Just like this baby?" You ask.

"God yes," he moans, the table creaking underneath him.

You slap his ass again and his cheek is turning a light red.

You slow your movements to taunt him, leaning over him and he feels your toned chest press into his back.

"No one has ever refused to join my pack before you Isaac," you whisper in his ear, nails gently scratching down his back, "maybe that's why I like you so much, it's the first time I've ever had to chase someone."

"You don't have to chase me Y/N I'm right here," he says.

"Tell me that you need me," you demand.

"I need you Y/N, I need you so much," he replies, arching his back into you.

"That's a good boy," you say, kissing the back of his neck and returning to your original position.

Isaac is a mess, moaning and looking for anything on the table to hold onto while you rail him.

He's desperate to stroke himself but he knows your rules, you would punish him if he touched himself without your permission.

You're rough with him, even rougher than usual and you do exactly as he asked.

His ass is now a deep red, there's handprint sized bruises on his waist and nail marks running across his back just barely breaking skin with blood droplets forming on the surface.

You fill him to the brim, cum dripping out of his hole with your cock still moving inside him.

"Holy shit that feels so good, please let me cum," he begs.

"Go ahead Isaac, cum for me," you smile as you continue fucking him post your own orgasm.

Isaac reaches down and touches his straining cock, stroking it and moaning your name as he cums.

When his climax subsides you pull out of him and get to your knees, licking his hole and he spasms.

"Are you already getting hard again?" You tease, licking from his balls to his cum filled hole.

"I told you I need you," he says.

You smile and get to your feet, turning him around and picking him up with ease.

He wraps his legs around you and his semi hard cock lays in between your stomachs.

"Well then how about we take this to the bedroom and I take care of that for you," you grin.

[skylarmoon71]

Bumblebee (Transformers) Chapter 5

“No…”

You were quite literally running for your life. When you saw that giant robot show up, you weren’t sure what to think. You’d only manage to get a brief look off its silhouette in the darkness before you forced your body to move. You were just barely navigating your way through the junkyard. You couldn’t see a thing.

You just chose a direction and took off.

But you knew it was following you.

It had to be. You could feel the menacing energy like a cloud over your head.

The lights flickered, and when they blinked back on, you swore you’d never been happier. You were further into the yard than you would have liked, but you could see the exit. If you could just make it to your car, maybe you could survive this.

“Do you really think you can run from me, human?”

Your blood ran cold, and you didn’t even have a chance to turn in the direction of the voice. It shot a missile at the car right next to you, and the explosion sent you flying a few feet in the air in the opposite direction. You cried out in fear. The second your body hit the ground, you could feel the pain hit you tenfold. You’d landed harshly on your shoulder, the sickening crack of bone echoing in your ears. You cried, rolling over on the other side to elevate the pain. Your arm was definitely dislocated.

“How satisfying, it seems you are already incapacitated.”

The trembling sound of his feet getting closer increased your panic. You should have gotten up, forced yourself to. Your legs were still functioning. Surely if you just made it away from this monster you would survive. You could live.

You tried to get back to your feet, you really did, but it was useless, because now the metal giant was standing over you, and the horror on your face must have been entertaining to him.

“Were you the one who sent out the beacon? Where are the autobots!! WHERE IS PRIME!!”

All you could do at that moment was cry. Has your thirst for knowledge of the unknown really led you to death?

“Useless worm.”

It lowered its arm, and when you saw the canon forming, you said every prayer you could think of.

“Please...please don’t..”

The tears were rushing down your cheeks, and when the heat of the canon became present, you closed your eyes waiting for the inevitable. A shot did go off, just not from where you expected. You jumped when the monster over you was sent crashing into a pile of cars. A noticeable hole is now present in its shoulder. Your heels dug into the dirt as you tried to force yourself upright. You could feel the heavy steps of more robots behind you. When you lifted your head, a red and blue painted machine crossed your view. This one was sporting a sword in hand as he flipped in the air, landed in front of you.

“(Y/N)!!”

When you heard Sam’s scream, you thought for sure you were imagining it.

“S-Sam…”

He was running in your direction and there was another large robot following behind him. The bright yellow paint was hard to miss. For a moment you considered if you’d become delusional. Maybe the pain was clouding your mind. When he finally got to you, he helped you to your feet, taking notice of your right arm that was hanging low.

“I got you. We’re here. We’re going to protect you.”

We.

Who were we?

Your eyes drifted back, just in time to see the bigger robot draw a sword. The yellow one tackled the monster that had attacked you, holding down its arm as the other ran his sword right into the robot's chest. It twisted the blade, and pulled it out viciously. When you say the light drained from its red eyes you should have felt relieved. But your mind and body were fighting a battle of control. You pulled away from Sam screaming.

“No…no..no NOOO!! IT’S GOING TO KILL US SAM IT'S GOING TO KILL US!!”

He was alarmed at the outburst. You were fighting against his hold as you screamed and Bee’s eyes turned to you. Lennox and Epps were not far behind with Ironhide. They rolled up just as they saw the scene of your screaming and pleading for your life.

“DON’T HURT ME DON’T HURT ME!!”

Your yells continued and Sam was not sure what action to take.

“We need to calm her down.” Optimus advised. He grabbed the leg of the Decepticon to tow away.

“I-I don’t know what to do…”

Sam was still battling to hold you down and when Lennox walked over, he gave a somber look, slipping something out of his pocket. He bit the cover of the needle off as Epps held down your hands. Sam was stunned when they injected whatever it was into your neck. Your thrashing came to a slow stop. Your words dying out as you continued to let out desperate pleas. Your body sagged and Lennox caught you, lifting you into his arms.

“What did you give her!” Sam demanded.

“A sedative. You saw her reaction.” Lennox wasn’t exactly a fan of drugging people, but in this situation he had no choice.

“I saw this a lot in war. Get used to it kid. We ain't playing house. This is a battlefield. As long as those decepticons are running around everyone is in danger.” Epps words were harsh, but true. A few years ago his biggest worry was surviving high school.

Sam watched your unconscious body solemnly. He was still trying to process what had happened.

“We have to get her back to the hanger. If we take her to the hospital they’ll think she’s crazy.” Bumblebee stood over, looking at you sadly. He felt like he’d failed in every sense of the word.

“We’re best friends.”

Your words ran through his head, and you clenched his hand. Optimus took notice of the defensive position.

“There was nothing you could have done, Bumblebee." Optimus’s words didn’t help much.

He just hoped that on the other side of this, you would survive.

[trashbag-baby666]

The Lunch Affair

Summary: Bubbles and Croz don’t like a change in their lunch schedules.

WC: 1, 565

C/W: mentions of church.

MOTA Masterlist!

Croz absolutely despised his schedule for the semester. Not like Junior year was hard enough but he didn’t have any classes with Bubbles and his lunch was alone. He had a few of the same AP classes with Buck but by far he was not looking at a fun second semester.

The boy with the dark brown hair pushed open the auditorium door and watched as the automatic lights flipped on. He had been eating lunch here by himself for the past two weeks. He missed having lunch with his friends. Bucky being obnoxiously loud but mostly he missed Bubbles.

Croz sat in the last row and took his backpack off taking out his book and opening his lunchbox. He smiled at the little pink sticky note from his mom, sure he was 16 but his mom still packed him lunch everyday.

‘Have a good day sweety, love mom’ with a heart drawn next to it.

He took out the ziplock bag and took out the sandwich. Classic ham and cheese with some doritos and two cookies. Croz opened his book and held it in one hand while holding the sandwich in the other.

Slightly startled, Croz looked up from his book right away. The door opened and he saw the red head walk in. “Hey, thought I’d find you here.” Bubbles smiled, taking off his backpack as he sat down next to the other.

“What’re you doing, don't you have class?” Croz furrowed his eyebrows, shutting his book.

“We had a sub, he didn’t really feel like teaching.” Bubbles snickered looking through Croz’s lunch box and breaking off a piece of one of the cookies.

“Hey who said you could have that,” Croz giggled, slapping away Bubbles hand.

“Your Mom,” Bubbles stated proudly before he realized what he said. Croz covered his hand with his mouth as he began laughing through his bite of sandwich. It was no secret Mrs. Crosby always packed something extra for Bubbles.

“Too much time with Bucky,” Croz jokes, shaking his head looking over at his best friend. He didn’t know if he knew how to put into words his feelings for Bubbles. They’d been best friends since they were three, they did everything together.

Including when Croz decided to try out theater in middle school after he got kicked out of choir. He remembered how furious his mother was at the school. How dare they say her son was a bad singer. Croz didn’t necessarily like choir but he did it because his mother liked it. She was head of the church's choir and his older sister had been in show choir when she was in school.

But yet he also felt different feelings than just incredibly close friends. The anxious feeling that's always eating him goes away, he can relax. Not worry about what everyones thinks of him or if his bullies were near.

It was something he never got comfortable with, the way trouble seemed to lurk.

He had Buck and Bucky. He sometimes wondered why the two most popular boys and co captains of the football team were his best friends? Buck and Croz had known each other from going to church together and their mom being friends. Then Bucky moved there one day in sixth grade and they never looked back.

Then there was Curt who had been a beacon of hope for the lgbt population of the school when he moved there, their Sophomore year. He came from New York City and surely had the attitude to prove it, never letting anyone push him around. He wasn’t afraid to be unapologetically himself, he was an openly gay football player.

Croz wondered what he could do to get that kind of confidence. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to reach that in life. He’d always been too timid and scared to stand up for himself.

“What’re you thinking about?” Bubbles studied Harry’s face, his brows were furrowed and his deep brown eyes gazing blankly at the stage.

Bubbles had known him long enough to know when Croz was too focused on his thoughts. Bubbles swore up and down Croz could turn over thinking into an olympic sport. Bubbles gently rested his hand on Croz’s hand and gave it a small reassuring squeeze.

“Nothing,” He shook his head looking back down at the sandwich. Croz could feel the safe, grounded feeling of Bubbles' hand. He knew Bubbles could see right through him. He was an older brother to five other little siblings ranging from ages two to 10. He could give good advice and read people like no other.

“Okay,” Bubbles didn’t press any further. The two sat in the auditorium in silence for the rest of lunch. Croz eating his sandwich with Bubbles hand still resting on his.

“It was nothing, okay?” Croz rolled his eyes as he and Bucky stood backstage. This winter's production was The Little Mermaid; Although, no one liked Bucky's obnoxious singing, but his over the top acting was too good for them to pass up. Now it was the same for Croz, he knew the theater director tried to give him the part with the least amount of singing. So he was playing Flounder and Bucky was Sebastian.

“Nothing but hand holding,” Bucky teased, yanking at the blue tail on Croz’s costume. It was tech week and of course Bucky couldn’t even take that seriously.

“Hush,” one of the techies snapped at the two of them from where she stood with her clipboard by the curtain ropes.

“Okay Bucky and Harry come on stage.” the director spoke into the microphone. The two of them walked on stage taking their spots behind the painted wood waves.

“Okay Joe get their lights on them.” the director instructed and Croz felt himself heat up just even hearing Bubbles be mentioned.

“Wow you’re blushing because he’s shining his spotlight on you?” Bucky looked over at him, his one eyebrow raised and his hands on his hips.

“You know you’re not supposed to be talking.” Croz side eyed him hoping Bucky would shut his big fat mouth. He didn’t want Bubbles hearing any of this, he always felt as if his feelings were one sided. That if Bubbles ever found out about Croz’s little crush he’d run for the hills. Then all the years of friendship would be gone and Croz would be on his own.

“I’m just being honest with you,” Bucky whispered, lowering his voice a bit more.

“Bucky,” Croz hissed between his teeth.

“I’m just saying everyone knows you guys are eye fuc-”

“Hush, before we get in trouble.”

“Mr. Crosby, is there something you need to say?” The director raised her eyebrow, sticking her head out of the tech booth in the back.

“No, I’m sorry Ms. Canary.” Croz cleared his throat and shot a glare at Bucky wanting to rip the stupid red top hat off of him.

“What was Bucky chattering all about?” Bubbles asked, glancing from the road over to Crosby. Croz let out an airy sigh not even wanting to bring up Bucky's teasing.

“Nothing important,” Croz sighed and shrugged sitting back in the well loved leather seat of the blue minivan. Croz couldn’t remember a time this van ever

Smelled like anything except cigarettes and cheap air fresheners. Even when they were younger it had that well loved smell.

Croz thought it was interesting that still, six kids later. Bubbles' parents wouldn’t give up smoking.

“Some silly recollection from a Yankees game to The Little Mermaid?” Bubbles chuckled lightly.

“Probably, I’ve learned to tune out Bucky and his baseball talk all the time.”

“I need to learn how to tune the baseball analogies out. That and everytime I look at Buck and Bucky at lunch they’re basically laying on top of each other.” Bubbles had always had B lunch with just Croz and they’d eat outside till it was too cold or it snowed. Rest of the winter months they’d eat in the auditorium. Now Bubbles had to experience the true horrors of sitting with Buck, Bucky, and Curt.

It was…a lot to say the least. Sometimes Bucky and Curt would start throwing food at other tables and then Bubbles was guilty by association. Forced to stay in the lunchroom cleaning up the floors and be late to class. Nevertheless he loved his friends, he just missed the quiet lunches with Croz.

“I dunno when you work this week but I was wondering if you wanted to go to a diner with me after rehearsal and study sometime this week? I know it's tech week but I just have this test next week on Monday.” Bubbles was finally working up the courage to bring up his feelings about him. He just wanted to be honest with his feelings and get past them if it wasn’t mutual.

“Oh uh, let me check.” Croz perked up taking out his phone, “I don’t work on Thursday, If that works for you.”

“Sounds good,” Bubbles turned into the driveway of Croz’s house. He could see Bitzy in the window, she was the Crosby family old cat. She was living in spight at this point, “Tell Bitzy hello from me.”

“Will do,” Croz nodded, opening the door and grabbing his backpack strap, “Thank you, love you, see you tomorrow?”

“Love you too.See you tomorrow, Harry.”

[wajjs]

Is there a spot still available?

How about kissing for a mission plus a good "oh, oh" moment?

A gasp.

He wakes up with a gasp and with his hands clenching around the cheap white sheets. His head hurts, dizzy in a way he’s never been, not after all those years training for and then actually flying planes.

Except he’s never flown a plane in his whole damn life.

He wakes, and right next to him, his partner wakes, too. They both groan almost in unison, and he lifts one of his hands to grab at his head. Maybe he’s hungover. Maybe he’s coming down with something…?

His partner sits up like he’s late for something too important. And then immediately his partner grabs his head as well, with both hands, almost curling in on himself as he does.

“Ugh,” his partner says, voice thick with sleep still lingering, “that was a mistake.”

He blinks up at the ceiling. The lights are out, but there are thin streams coming in through the cracks in the blinds, casting everything in a soft early morning glow. He can kind of see everything when he drags his eyes throughout the room: the ceiling fan, the dresser with the top drawer badly closed, a sleeve poking out, the body mirror propped against the wall, a picture frame on the dresser that’s like a beacon, making his mind and body freeze because.

His partner.

“Guy,” he croaks out, sitting up as well, and the sheets fall off his chest to reveal that he’s wearing nothing. Well. From the waist up, he’s wearing nothing. His stomach flips inside his body as if he’s about to hurl but somehow he knows there’s nothing inside to come out.

“I’m aight, babe,” Guy tells him, turning his head (still in his hands) just enough so that one eye peeks at him. Then, he quickly adds: “Ya look like shit.”

“Guy,” he insists, more urgently this time. He kicks off the sheets at the same time he moves to stand up. He’s dizzy, he’s still so dizzy, but it doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.

Two long strides take his feet all the way to the dresser where the picture frame that’s yelling at him rests. He picks it up just as Guy’s standing from the bed as well, naked as the day he was born.

“Hal,” Guy’s voice is firm, and warm, and doing things to Hal’s stomach that’s already in knots, “what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“We,” Hal licks his lips and then swallows. In the dim light he can tell what the photo is about.

A wedding.

Well, not just about any wedding, rather their wedding. It just—it just doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense at all.

Guy’s standing right behind him now, his big, strong arms wrapping around Hal’s waist like they belong there. And for a second, Hal almost believes it. He almost buys into it, into the idea of them being, being this item, this couple. His heart wants to accept it. Fuck, even his mind is yelling at him to let this unease go, to take it in, to see what comes of this. But his instincts are right there, just like Guy’s arms are. But Guy’s so warm. Guy’s so warm, and Hal is always so cold, he’s always…

He sets the frame back down on the dresser. Guy hums, and his hands, rough, big, spread over his lower stomach. Hal hates this. Hal hates that he’s going to be the one to break this spell they’re under.

“Guy,” his voice is barely above a whisper. It is a stark contrast to the way his heart is thundering, clamoring away inside his chest. “Guy, we—we never got married.”

[READ THE REST ON AO3]