#rubber duck operator

[death-selfie]

COD totally missed the opportunity to make the Rubber Duck operator a variant of Soap 😞

Like…just think about it—

But then again, I guess we all gotta see Neil Ellice’s pretty face in the game, huh?

[ichorai]

xerox ; robert reynolds ; part three.

part one. | part two.

pairing ; robert (bob) reynolds x reader, thunderbolts & reader

synopsis ; you had one last job before you were free. no more splitting, no more deaths. unfortunately, that job seemed to rope in four other assassins and a... a man in hospital-wear?

words ; 4.3k

themes ; action, angst, slowburn, fluffy near the end, the beginnings of romance

warnings / includes ; violence, reader has the ability to split into multiple bodies (think dupli-kate from invincible), the void is hot unfortunately, foul language, everyone's mental health sucks but they're actually getting better now!

a/n ; this chapter is a bit shorter than the other two just because it only covers the very end of the movie PLUS a little bonus scene to get you guys excited for future avengers tower moments :) thank you again for all the support! also did you guys catch the mutant mention wink wonk

main masterlist. read on ao3!

Bob’s first room had an angry, middle-aged man standing in the very center, veins protruding out of his neck as he yelled gibberish. Flecks of spittle fell from his slurring lips. Bob, whose warm hand was intertwined with yours, flinched at the sudden volume. 

Walker didn’t hesitate to strike him down with his taco-shaped shield. 

“He seems nice,” Ava said.

The room gave a massive rumble, as if upset that things weren’t going its way, and the walls began to close in. 

“This way!” Alexei bellowed, ushering everyone forward into a wooden wardrobe full of clothes. 

“Narnia?” you asked as you shouldered through moth-eaten coats, giving Bob a quick glance over your shoulder. 

Bob gave you a nervous smile. “It was one of my favorites as a kid.”

The floors gave out beneath you, and you found yourself free-falling for a few seconds before landing on the rough ground with a resounding thud. The new room smelled of gasoline and burnt rubber tires.

You helped Yelena up to her feet, only to be whacked over the back of the head with a sharp plastic sign that read ALFREDO’S BAIL BONDS! in a hideous shade of red, by a chicken mascot that had equally hard-on-the-eyes yellow feathers. With a low moan, you started crawling away from the crazed chicken, who had turned to attack Ava and Alexei. 

“Oh, God!” Bob exclaimed, scrambling over to give you a hand. “Are you okay?”

“IF YOU DON’T STOP HITTING ME WITH THAT SIGN—!” Alexei gruffed from across the room, now bleeding from the nose.

“I was on meth!” Bob shrieked apologetically right before grabbing your head and shoving you down just in time to duck away from another sign-swing from the high chicken. 

Whilst lowered, you spotted a stack of wooden vegetable crates across the street. There seemed to be no other exits from the room. Ava kept the chicken occupied and distracted by repeatedly phasing through him, so you took the opportunity to break open the bottom of the crates, which smelled faintly of rotting tomatoes.

“Through here!” you called. “Crawl through the crates!”

Past-Bob made a bee-line for current Bob, the sharp end of the sign aimed straight at him like a crude stake. With a stinging cheek and a clenched jaw, Bucky stepped in between them and punched the chicken square in the face (beak?) with his metal arm. 

As you made your way through to the new room, you distantly heard Walker gagging behind you. “I hate tomatoes.”

Through the crates was a cleaner, more sterile space. The new room looked… clinical. You immediately tensed, eyes darting back and forth. There were beakers, needles, and measuring devices everywhere—all the marks of a science lab. You had to suck in a deep, painful breath to remind yourself that this wasn’t your room—it was Bob’s. A few meters away from you, there was an operating table. Big surgical lights looming over it like curved, robotic flowers. And on the bed sat past-Bob, shoulders hunched into himself. He looked the very same as the Bob right beside you, holding your hand. But his eyes were sunken and empty. Tired.

“I’ve been here before,” Yelena whispered. “Malaysia.”

Bob bit down on the inside of his cheek. “It’s where it all started. I was roaming Southeast Asia. Thought I’d figure something out. A way to find more drugs. And there’s this guy… he started talking to me about a medical study. A trial drug that can make me stronger and not feel like… me anymore. It was like a miracle.”

You felt your face fall with sympathy. You squeezed his hand, and Bob met your gaze with pursed lips. Slowly, the group began to advance towards Past-Bob. At least he wasn’t swinging a sign at all of your heads in a chicken suit this time.

“I thought I would get to show everyone that I was more… that I was something,” Bob told everyone, shame tinting each of his words a melancholic blue.

Past-Bob, now shrouded in shadow, finally straightened. 

“And look what you unleashed,” the voice purred, echoing in your head as if he had managed to worm inside and tapping at the very base of your ear drums.

That wasn’t Bob, you realized with a heavy pit in your stomach. It was the Void. He hopped off the surgical table, turning to face the team, face dark, but eyes glowing.

“How could you possibly think you could be worth anything?” he said, calm as untouched waters. You could feel your skin prickle.

Yelena stepped forward. “We’re leaving.”

The Void stayed silent for a moment, scrutinizing the ragged team of misfits and criminals with an empty expression. Then, he shook his head in miniscule movements. “No,” he simply said.

Behind him the surgical table rose into the air and flew across the room at a startlingly rapid speed, crashing against Yelena and Alexei, pinning them against the wall behind. The long strips of buzzing, artificial lights above were torn from the ceiling and wound around Bucky, keeping him to one of the lab’s counters. Several metal frames from a window came whizzing across the room to bury into the edges of Walker’s suit, keeping him stuck on the ground. Ava was sent flying into the other side of the lab when a crumbled garbage can wound about her midriff. She would have phased right through it, but there was a force weighing her down. 

You managed to dodge the door that was coming at you, having to relinquish Bob’s hand to do so, but missed the heavy metal shelf used to store plastic pill pots heading toward you from the opposite direction. It slammed into your stomach, knocking the wind from your lungs, and you were left struggling fruitlessly against the wall it lodged you up against. 

“Stop,” Bob pleaded to the Void with wide, watery eyes. “Let them go.”

“You think they care about you?” The Void stepped closer until he was right in front of you, close enough that you could feel it—the cold darkness. The dread. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. The weight of all you’ve done wrong, all the people you’ve murdered and maimed, all your deaths, all your lies—resting right on top of your sternum. You gasped for breath. You felt something cold touch your face, so cold it felt blistering hot. You simultaneously wanted to pull away and lean in closer. The Void’s fingers were caressing your cheek ever so gently, and Bob did nothing but watch. He felt frozen to the floor, paralyzed with fear and uncertainty. 

“Xerox… lovely, sad Xerox…” crooned the Void, almost sing-songy. “Bob’s got a fixation with you, you know. It’s pathetic. He’s like a sad mutt begging for scraps from the table.” There was an amused hum from him before he continued, this time speaking to Bob. “Xerox doesn’t want to help you. None of them do. They’re all using you. Deep down, you know they despise you. You’re a burden.”

“That’s not true!” Yelena screamed from the opposite side of the room. IV drip wires wrapped around her throat so tight her eyelids fluttered and her words were caught on her tongue. 

“Isn’t that right, Xerox?” said the Void, his cool thumb slipped beneath your chin to tilt your head up as he regarded you with those cold, blank eyes. “You chose the darkness. You chose me.”

“I came…” The weight was growing stronger. The words felt like thorns in your mouth, painful to speak. What was he doing to you? “I came to help him.”

The Void tilted his head. Then, you felt the coldness close around your throat. The edges of your vision darkened. If your hands weren’t pinned back, you would’ve been clawing at your neck for breath.

“I told you… he doesn’t want your help. He’s pathetic. Why would he deserve it? Deserve you? Now tell him. Tell him the truth. It’s what he needs to hear… some tough love.”

When you opened your mouth this time, words spilled out that weren’t yours. “I don’t want to help you,” you found yourself saying. Not to the Void, but to Bob. Your Pal. You gasped, a cold tear slipping down your cheek. The words came out grated, as if someone had forced you to swallow razors. “I never liked you, Robert. You’re nothing. In fact, worse than that. You’re an active hindrance. A thorn in everyone’s side. I wish… schkk—I wish you had stayed dead when they shot you down.”

“That’s right,” murmured the Void. “Good.”

“Please stop,” Bob ground out. You weren’t sure if he was saying that to you or to the Void. 

His dark counterpart laughed a deep, rumbling noise. “Robert the Hero. Doesn’t sound right, does it? Fake. Like a comic book story. What a joke.”

Walker was close to prying himself out of his confines. 

The Void flicked his wrist. All the glass from the beakers and volumetric cylinders in the lab exploded. Crystal shards scratched at the team’s face, leaving everyone with stinging, bloodied cuts. The Void’s hand slipped away from your throat to pull out the piece of glass that had embedded into your skin. 

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said, almost a whisper. It would’ve sounded sincere if it hadn’t sounded like an automated message. “You do enough of that to yourself. Did you enjoy what I showed you? The darkness has been kind to you, hasn’t it? The only one you can trust is yourself.”

“Yes,” you choked out, and your head bowed into a nod even though you hadn’t wanted to. “I deserve to relive it all. All the worst parts of me. I’m just as bad as I thought I was.”

Bob was breathing heavily, expression twisted into one of pain. The Void was hurting you. He was hurting you. 

“I’m stronger than you,” Bob told his alter-ego, trying to sound more confident than he was. “I can beat you.”

The Void grinned. It was a terrifying sight. Wolfish. Predatory. “Let’s see.”

The shadowed figure finally stepped away from you, and you seemed to lean forward, as if chasing his touch. Once the Void was far enough, Bob watched you recoil with a trace of disgust to your expression. At yourself or at him?

“It wasn’t me,” you croaked, misty eyes now glued to Bob. Not the Void. Just Bob. “Palindrome. It wasn’t me.”

And Bob believed you. He trusted you. With a determined nod, he ran forward and swung a punch to the Void. The dark mass hit back with equal ferocity, sending Bob sprawling to the ground. Glass dug into his skin.

“Get up, Bobby,” Walker gruffed. “Get up!”

“You thought you would be some great man? Some savior?” taunted the Void as he kicked at Bob. “You can’t even save yourself.”

You watched in horror as the Void picked Bob up by the scruff of his sweatshirt, and struck him three more times. 

“We will always be alone.”

The room began to shift, elongating. The entire group was pulled further and further away from Bob and the Void. Bob watched the team go—his friends grow smaller with the distance—and blew out a choked breath. Alexei was bleeding profusely from his head. Yelena’s face was turning blue from the cords cutting her airway. Ava, Bucky, and John were still working against their bonds. Bob glanced at you hanging limply behind the shelf, staring at nothing in particular with glazed eyes. No doubt that was the Void’s doing. 

Bob turned. His lips curled angrily. Then he launched himself at the Void with a mangled cry. He began punching the figure with all his might. To his fury, the Void only smiled, unhurt.

“There we go,” the Void whispered in a mocking manner. “Show them how strong you are.”

The room began to crack and crumble. Darkness began to eat away at Bob the more he struck his darker self. His shoes were swallowed first, now beginning to crawl up his shins. 

“This isn’t right,” Bucky gruffed. 

“Bob, stop!” Yelena coughed out. Having had enough, Alexei strained as much as he could to push the weight off of them. Just enough to let Yelena wriggle loose. She slipped out with a pained groan, tore the IV off her, and began running towards Bob. The room shifted to try to stop her—throwing cabinets and beakers and tables at her, but she lithely dodged each one. 

By the time she got to Bob, the darkness had seeped up to his neck. 

“I’m here,” she said, wrapping her arms around Bob from behind, trying to hold him back. Bob kept hitting the darkness, relentless.

“It will always be just us,” the Void told him, almost comforting. “I’m the only one you can rely on.”

Yelena held onto him tighter. “I’m here, Bob,” repeated Yelena. “You’re not alone.”

Finally, Bucky managed to tear himself free. He helped Walker get free, and Walker then stalked over to push the shelf off of you with a grunt. You collapsed with a dizzy intake of breath. Ava and Alexei were quick to free themselves afterwards, bonds slightly loosened—it seemed that Yelena’s words of comfort were actually helping. 

The rest of the team ran towards Bob, Yelena, and the Void. 

“We’re all here,” Yelena told her friend. “We’re here for you, Bob.”

You kneeled down beside him, hand wrapping around the wrist that led to a now-bloodied fist. The team piled together, all holding Bob—and each other. In the tangled mess of limbs and arms, Bob began to weep. His head knocked against yours as he sobbed, and you held him all the tighter. 

“Let it out, Pal,” you said. “We’ve got you.”

Then the entire group fell backwards. Your spine hit the rough surface of a broken road. After blinking several times and adjusting to the sudden onslaught of light, the city of New York came back into view. The shadows were slowly but surely melting away. 

The team slowly struggled to their feet. People were gradually but surely returning from the Void’s realm.

You sniffled, wiping an errant tear with your sleeve. The Void’s hold on your mind was still fresh, and you certainly felt a little worse for wear. You felt Bob’s concerned hand on your shoulder, and you turned and enveloped him into a sudden, tight hug, yanking him close. He emitted a noise of surprise, but his arms wound around you out of instinct. 

“I’m so sorry,” you said, breathing shallow and rapid. “I don’t wish you died. I don’t think you’re a burden. I think you’re really sweet and cool and—” Your words were spoken so quickly and pretty muffled into the fabric of his sweatshirt that Bob didn’t really catch them.

Bob held you until your breaths mellowed out a bit. Even patted your back a few times for good measure. There were no complaints on his end for the hug, but he wasn’t very sure why you were giving him one. 

“This is nice,” he started, uncertain.

“Sorry, I didn’t ask if I could hug you,” you whispered once you pulled away, cheeks flushed.

“You don’t need to ask,” he said, almost too quickly. There was a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks. “You don’t ever need to ask to hug me. It’s nice. I like it.”

Walker came to stand beside you, having done a quick survey of the premise. “You were great in there, Bob.”

Bob blinked at the bearded man and smiled. That was probably the nicest thing Walker has ever said to him. Too bad he had no clue what he was talking about. “Thanks, Walker,” he said, still smiling goofily. “In—wait, in where?” Finally, Bob took a glance around. There was wreckage everywhere. Had the Avengers totaled New York yet again? “Woah. What happened here?”

“You don’t… remember?” you asked, eyeing him with kinked brows.. “Did you hit your head a bit too hard?”

Bob patted down his skull. “Feels normal.” He laughed a bit—a nervous, knee-jerk reaction. “Sorry, I’m a bit confused.”

“Are you okay?” Yelena asked, looking at him with nothing but concern. 

Bob’s brows twitched, still completely lost. “Yeah. I’m fine. Why’s everyone looking at me like that?”

“Are you serious?” Alexei deadpanned. “We were in crazy rooms of despair and misery and—”

“Thanks, Alexei,” you cut in, giving the giant of a man a pointed look. “You did good, Bob. I can explain the details later. For now—”

Your reassurance was cut off by Valentina shrilly speaking into a phone, only a few yards away. You could feel anger twist your insides just from seeing her. 

“I’m going to kill that woman,” Alexei gruffed.

“We can’t kill her. We have to take her in,” Bucky said with an exasperated sigh. It was clear that he had plenty of experience being the voice of reason. 

“What happens when he regains his memory?” Walker asked. “Will we have to go through that all over again?”

Yelena shook her head. She took Bob by the elbow and began leading him towards Valentina. “Okay. Come on, Bob.”

“I’m going with you guys?”

“Of course you are,” you said as you walked alongside them towards Valentina, nudging Bob with a soft smile. “We’re a team now.”

Bob returned your smile easily. “That sounds nice.”

Yelena nodded. “We stick together from now on.”

When Valentina spotted the Thunderbolts coming towards her, she began to hurry backwards. “Hello, team! I know we’re all dealing with very big feelings right now, just give me—give me half a second—!”

She disappeared behind some wreckage. 

As you rounded the broken pieces of construction, you were met with the blinding flashes of about fifty cameras. There were news trucks, reporters, microphones, the entire shebang. Even a podium for Valentina to stand behind as she hushed the audience. A small part of you thought about all the dried blood on your face and body—it was a relief your suit was dark, or it would’ve looked like you were mauled by a bear. Or, more likely that you were the one that mauled the bear. 

“What’s going on?” Bob leaned closer to whisper to you.

“No idea,” you whispered back.

“Cool.” The smile that appeared on his face was boyish and lopsided. “It’s nice not being the only one who’s confused.”

“Are we live?” Valentina asked one of the cameramen. Once he nodded, she began speaking with a shiny, rehearsed smile. “For years, I have been working secretly to develop a new age of protection. Today, the citizens of the United States need that protection. Thanks to my hard work, they got it. Ladies and gentlemen… meet the new Avengers.”

Avenger? You? That didn’t sound quite right. The Avengers were heroes. They were a beacon of light and hope and occasional destruction of city-folk. You were… 

Just a person trying to do better.

The Thunderbolts stared at each other in a mixture of disbelief and disdain. Bob began to clap loudly, but you put a hand on his, forcing him to lower them down. 

“What?” he asked, still completely miffed, and you shook your head with an I’ll tell you later look. Bob nodded solemnly and put his hands behind his back, which made you hold back an amused grin. The snaps coming from the cameras seemed to flare with every tiny movement you made, so you weren’t too keen on giving them anything to pick apart. 

Yelena strode up to Valentina. She covered the microphone, leaned down, and said, just loud enough so she and the rest of the team could hear. “We own you now.”

This time, you didn’t bother trying to smother your smile. The cameras went crazy.

“Have you seen the news?” Bob asked you, settling down next to you on the couch. He handed you the steaming mug of tea, made just the way you liked. His knees knocked against yours. 

You glanced away from your crossword puzzle and took the mug with a warm smile. “Thanks. Seen what? I haven’t checked ever since news of mutants broke out.” You were still waiting for your own test results to come back. The memory of the clinic drawing your blood made you shudder. It did, however, make you feel slightly better knowing that the entire team was squashed in the tiny waiting room right outside the door for you. Even Bucky, who swore up and down that he was busy that afternoon still showed up. You made a mental note to get him a smoothie from that juice shop he liked so much. 

Bob gave you an awkward grimace. “They’re writing about us again.”

This made you roll your eyes. “They’re always writing about us.”

Just yesterday, Ava had shown you an article that said: THE HEROES NOBODY ASKED FOR! IS NEW ALWAYS BETTER? 

Which, to be fair, was a completely valid article. However, counterpoint, none of you asked to be on the Avengers. Except Alexei and Walker at some point, you suspected.

“No,” Bob said, clearing his throat. “Not us like the group, but us us.”

“Oh?” You quirked a brow. “What are they saying this time?” Last week, they were convinced Bob was a special secret agent of sorts. 

Bob handed you the rolled up newspaper he was holding. 

SPOTTED: BOB WHO? MYSTERY MAN SEEN WITH NEW AVENGER ‘XEROX’ — ROMANCE BLOSSOMING IN THE TOWER?

Though you were wearing a baseball cap, that clearly wasn’t enough to hide your identity. Beneath the article title was a grainy image of you and Bob in the park, feeding the ducks. The two of you were wearing identical, fond grins; but you were looking at the ducks, and his eyes were trained on you. There was another photo beneath where the two of you were sharing a milkshake in one of your favorite diners. You let out a sigh—you supposed you couldn’t be going to that diner as often anymore.

“Oh,” you muttered, reading through the first few lines, which turned out to be a whole bunch of speculative nonsense. “They’re always doing this, aren’t they? Making something out of nothing.” 

“Right,” said Bob, nodding. “It’s nothing. You’re right.”

When you caught his eye, noting the slightly crestfallen look on his face, you shook your head, assuming he was just upset about the whole ordeal. You could understand—losing your privacy overnight wasn’t something you were very keen about, either. “Try not to pay too much mind to the news people. I guess we just have to lay low for a while. It’ll die down. They’ll move on to the next big trendy thing in a minute or two.”

“Yeah, of course,” Bob said. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Does this mean we have to stop going to the park together?”

“No,” you reassured. “We just have to put on some better disguises. I’m sure Valentina could scrounge up the money. After all, she kinda has to do whatever we want now.”

Bob smiled, all awkward and endearing. “Good. Yeah. I… I like the time we spend together.”

“I like it, too,” you said, lips upturned. Bob had to force his eyes away. It was nothing. Right.

You patted his leg and returned to your crossword puzzle. You were about halfway through the crossword book that Bob had bought for you from the musty cornerstore two blocks away. It was the first gift you’d ever gotten from someone. 

Yelena walked into one of the Tower’s many common areas an hour later to find you and Bob leaning against each other, dozing away. Your puzzle book was discarded to the side, pencil sticking out one of the pages to mark your place. Bob’s mouth was slightly agape and he looked about two seconds away from slipping and face-planting painfully into the boniest part of your shoulder. Your legs were intertwined with his in a position that certainly couldn’t have been comfortable. Yelena regarded the two of you with a downturned smile. 

“Okay, you sleepy lovebirds,” she muttered, grabbing a neatly folded blanket from the corner of the long couch and draping it over the both of you. You stirred ever so slightly, mumbling something under your breath, then settled back closer to Bob. “Sweet dreams.”

The two of you were startled awake just as Yelena was leaving and Alexei stormed in, loudly complaining about how this lady in the grocery store wouldn’t buy the Avengers Wheaties cereal box even though he’d explicitly recommended it to her.

You rubbed your eyes tiredly, standing up to stretch upwards like a feline after a long nap. Bob watched you with a sleepy grin. “Ooh, that just reminded me. I need to go pick up some ingredients for soup night tomorrow. Walker hates tomatoes, so tomato soup is off the menu.” 

With no hesitation whatsoever, Bob asked, “Can I come with you?” 

You thought distantly to the news reports. Let them think what they want. Whatever you had with Bob, you liked it just as it was.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’d love that. We can stop by the library afterwards, too. I’ve heard they’ve got a new copy of…”

Alexei and Yelena watched the two of you head out, animatedly discussing some sort of new mystery book, shoulders practically pressed up to each other. 

“Are they—” Alexei sent his daughter a pointed look. “You know?”

“I’m not speaking about this with you,” Yelena curtly said, turning on her heel. “But no, not yet. Ava and I have a bet going on.”

This made a devilish grin spread over Alexei’s face. “He makes it obvious, the way he looks at Xerox. I give them a week.”

Yelena scoffed. He was such an optimist. She gave them three months at the very least. “You’re on.”

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Waiting for the Green Light

word count: 863

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summery: As rain delays qualifying in São Paulo, Y/n and Lando share a heartwarming moment in the garage, wrapped in each other's warmth

______________________________________________________________

The rain continued to fall heavily on the São Paulo circuit, creating a rhythmic patter against the garage roof that provided an almost soothing soundtrack to the tension in the air. Y/n had shifted onto Lando’s lap, her legs draped over his in a way that felt both natural and electric. He was still in his full racing suit, the tight fabric accentuating his lean build and showing off the logos of his sponsors, while his fireproof undershirt peeked out from under the suit. The smell of rubber and fuel clung to him, mixed with a hint of adrenaline that never seemed to leave a driver even in moments of calm.

“Can you believe this weather?” she asked, trying to make light of the situation as she settled in, feeling his warmth radiate through the layers of fabric.

“Honestly? Not really,” Lando replied, his tone playful. “It’s like the rain gods have decided to ruin my day on purpose.” He chuckled, leaning back slightly against the cold metal wall of the garage, and adjusted her on his lap so she was even more comfortable. His hands were firm but gentle, one resting on her waist while the other found her knee, his fingers absentmindedly drawing small circles over her jeans.

The tension of the rain delay melted away as they shared this little moment together. Y/n relaxed into him, allowing her head to rest against his shoulder, enjoying the way his heartbeat drummed softly beneath her ear. The garage was alive with activity around them, mechanics hurriedly checking tires and adjusting setups, but here, in their own bubble, it felt like time had stopped.

Just as she was starting to lose herself in the warmth and closeness, a flash of light caught her eye. She turned to see a couple of camera operators from the media team positioning themselves nearby, clearly looking for the perfect shot of McLaren’s rising star and his girlfriend. Her heart raced, not just from the closeness of Lando, but from the sudden realization that they were about to be the center of attention.

“Oh no, they’re filming us!” Y/n exclaimed, a blush creeping across her cheeks as she instinctively ducked her head to hide her face in Lando’s shoulder.

“Y/n, look,” he laughed, his voice playful and teasing as he gently nudged her chin up with his fingers. “Let them capture the moment. I want everyone to see how lucky I am.”

Peeking out from behind her hair, she caught the proud gleam in his eyes. Lando’s demeanor radiated confidence, and as he looked straight at the cameras, a broad grin spread across his face, showcasing the dimple in his cheek that always made her weak in the knees. “This is my amazing girlfriend,” he announced, his voice playful but filled with genuine admiration. “She’s the best part of my life!”

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at his antics, the shyness still lingering but overshadowed by her affection for him. She felt warmth spreading through her, a mix of embarrassment and excitement. “Lando!” she murmured, trying to suppress a smile as she glanced at the cameras.

He wrapped his arms around her tighter, drawing her closer, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, ignoring the buzzing around them as he focused entirely on her. “Honestly, you should see how pretty you look right now, all shy and cute. I want to show you off to the world.”

The cameras captured every moment—the way Lando’s fingers danced lightly along her side, the way he couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he watched her blush deepen. The crew around them murmured, impressed by the genuine connection between the two, a stark contrast to the cold and professional atmosphere typically found in the paddock.

“See? I told you, you’re gorgeous,” he said softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch sending little sparks across her skin. “And this?” He gestured vaguely at their surroundings. “This is just the beginning of the day. I have a feeling things will heat up once they call us back out there.”

She chuckled, playfully rolling her eyes. “What do you mean? You want to take me on a victory lap?”

“If it means I get to show off how beautiful you are, then absolutely!” Lando’s enthusiasm was infectious, and it made her heart soar. The way he looked at her with such pride made her feel like the only person in the room, even amidst the chaos of the garage.

As they continued to wait, the rain began to lighten, and the crew prepared for the eventual announcement from the FIA. Y/n nestled into him, feeling safe and cherished. Lando’s racing suit felt slightly damp against her cheek, but that only added to the feeling of being enveloped in warmth.

“Just so you know,” he murmured, his breath warm against her hair, “no matter what happens out there today, I’m glad I have you here with me. You make all this chaos worthwhile.”

She turned her head to meet his gaze, her heart swelling with affection. “And you make waiting in a damp garage the best time ever.” 

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨All Dolled Up✨

Lucifer x f!sinner reader

Summary: After months of hard work, Lucifer finally gifted you a welcome present after joining the hotel! In return, you decide to make something of your own just for him! Your gift, however, turns out to be even more special than you intended...

This is a surprise story for my friend @rosen-und-mondlicht who gave me this very creative and fun idea for a story! Love you boo <3

Huge thanks to @canihaveacandycane and @citrusbatsandhoneybees for the help on this one!

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), multiple orgasms, p in v

Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! We're so happy to have you stay with us! We hope your time here is an enjoyable one!

-Hotel Staff

P.S. Hey there! I'm sorry this took so long to give you, I just had to make it perfect! I hope you like it!

-Lucifer

It was custom for every new resident to receive a welcome letter. Even though you've already been at the hotel for 6 months now, it was still appreciated. You walked into your room and found your very late letter sitting next to a small white box complete with a red bow resting at the foot of your bed. The gift was unexpected; however, you hadn't heard of anyone else receiving one. Once you read the card, you figured you knew the reason for its delay. Lucifer, always the perfectionist, must have stalled the whole operation.

You hadn't expected to become so close to the King of Hell himself. You were weary of him at first, I mean, who wouldn't be? Everyone knew about the fallen angel. But after a while, you started to warm up to him. It was easy to see that he was nothing like you imagined or had been told about while you were alive. He was a kind soul, a dreamer who loved his daughter dearly, and someone who was very, very lonely. You learned about his previous wife Lilith and how she had left several years ago never and hadn't been heard from since. You could tell this deeply affected Lucifer even though he did his best to hide it through his jovial persona. You two grew pretty close, he found you incredibly easy to talk to, as if he had known you his whole life. You enjoyed your time together and you found joy in listening to whatever he chose to ramble on about that day be it his latest project or reminiscing about his daughter Charlie when she was younger. You'd never admit it, but you had developed somewhat of a crush on the king. But who were you to get involved with the ruler of Hell? It wasn't your place as a mere sinner and you dared not ruin the friendship you had built with him, odd as it may be.

Curiously, you picked up the box and casually began to unwrap it. you lifted the lid to find a cute little rubber duck that resembled you! All the little details down to your hair, your eye color, and somehow it managed to capture your smile in its little orange beak. You loved it, no wonder to took him so long to complete; every detail was perfect. It was such a thoughtful gift, and you felt the burning need to return the favor! Who knows the last time Lucifer had been given a gift. Why couldn't it be from you?

You noticed something else in the box too and lifted it up gently. It was a beautiful white and red feather. You knew it must have been his, but did he mean to give this to you as well? Knowing him, he must have worked frantically to get this gift finished. A few must have fallen off during the packing process; you knew how stressed the man could get. But the feather gave you an idea. You couldn't make rubber ducks like him, that was his specialty. But you did, however, know how to make little felt dolls! You were very crafty during your life and you figured you might as well use the skills you have to do something good.

You spent most of the night sewing and stitching everything together, ignoring the many warning signs your body gave you in order to try and get you to sleep. You were stubborn, however. Once you started a project, it was almost impossible for you stop until it was complete. It was nearly dawn by the time you finally finished the little doll. Well, almost finished! Everything was perfect, from the little snake that wrapped around his little hat to the tiny golden buttons on his jacket. There was only one things left to do! You grabbed the feather that you had found your box and delicately placed it inside of the small slit you had left open on the side of the doll. You thought the feather could represent a heart, something meaningful to give the doll and make it different from anything else.

Finally, you stitched the last gap closed, cutting the strong with your teeth to finally complete your gift. You stared at the doll for a moment to admire your work. And you were happy. But something weird happened. Just then, a small flash of golden light emanated from the doll but disappeared as quickly as it came. You set it down and rubbed your eyes. You looked over the doll again for another minute, but the flash of light never returned. You chalked it up to being a trick of the light. And considering the fact that you were sleep deprived, you wouldn't put it past your brain to start pulling tricks on you. You shrugged it off, taking the doll with you to bed. You drifted off to sleep easily, your eyes growing heavy as soon as your head hit the pillow. You clutched the doll close to your chest, giving it a small peck on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Lucifer," you whispered to it before letting your body fall unconscious.

****

You woke up with a start to the sound of your alarm blaring. It was 8:00 a.m. Not nearly enough sleep. You realized you hadn't moved all night; your body must have been too exhausted to toss and turn. You found yourself still holding the doll and smiled to yourself. You were still exhausted, but you knew Charlie would be sad if you missed breakfast, so with all of your remaining strength, you pulled yourself out of bed and begrudgingly began to get ready for the day. You decided you use a small tan paper you had from one of your shopping trips bag to hold the doll, thanking yourself for not just tossing it away like you normally would have.

You made your way to the kitchen knowing Charlie would be preparing breakfast for everyone. But to your surprise, when you entered through the kitchen door, it was not the princess you found at the stove, but her father. You heard him whistling a song you never heard before, a perfect melody. Your heart began to race as you walked a little bit closer to him, the smell of pancakes filling your senses.

"I can hear you, you know," Lucifer called out playfully as he flipped a pancake in the air. You couldn't help but giggle.

"Well, I'm glad," you retorted, now standing beside him. "I didn't really want to be scaring you when you’re working over a hot stove like that."

He gave you a small smirk without looking away from what he was doing. "Oh yeah, that truly would be terrible, wouldn't it?" he laughed. You knew he was more or less invincible, being an angel and all. Still, you didn't want to distract him.

"I thought Charlie was usually the one to prepare breakfast," you commented.

"Oh, she is!" Lucifer smiled. "But I told her I would handle the meals today. My little girl works so hard around here, you know? I thought it would be nice to take something of her plate...so to speak." He chuckled at his own joke as he laid the freshly made stack of pancakes on the neatly assembled row of plates.

"Do you need any help?" you asked, setting down the brown paper bag behind the kitchen island out of his view.

"Sure!" He turned around and pointed to the condiments he had laid out. "Could you hand me the syrup and the whipped cream over there?" You did as he asked and brought him the items. Lucifer began to smother the fluffy cakes in syrup and drawing little ducks with the whipped cream to top them all off. When he was finished, you and him delivered breakfast to the hotel residents. You came back to the kitchen to notice there were two plates of pancakes left.

"Oh, we forgot some," you commented. "Who did we forget?"

Lucifer only smiled. "Those are for us, silly! You have to eat too, don't you?"

In your effort to help, you completely forgot that you hadn't eaten. He handed you your plate and fork and you two stood there eating his delicious creation as you leaned against the countertop.

"These are amazing!" you tried to say with your mouth still half full.

Lucifer swallowed his last bite and gave you a toothy grin. "Why thank you! I'll be honest, I haven't cooked in a long time. I was afraid I had forgot how. But if you like them, then I know I succeeded!"

You set your finished plate down and crossed your arms. Lucifer seemed to be in more high spirits than usual. You liked seeing him like this; just happy. "If you don't mind me saying, Lucifer, your mood seems...different. N-Not in a bad way! Just...more full of energy."

He followed your motion and set his plate down behind him. "You think so?"

"Yeah," you continued. "It's nice to see. I like a happy Lucifer."

He smiled at you and left out a soft sigh. "Can I tell you something?" You tilted your head in confusion but nodded. "This is gonna sound a little weird, maybe a little bit crazy, but just hear me out, okay?"

"Of course! I never think you're crazy," you smiled. His hand found the back of his neck; he looked as though he was nervous about whatever he was about to tell you. Your heart started racing again.

"Last night, when I was sleeping...in the middle of the night, I felt something...I don't know how to say this...constricting me?" You furrowed your brow, not understanding what he was trying to say. "Maybe that's not the right word. Let's say...holding me. That sounds better."

"Holding you?" you questioned, "I'm not sure I get it."

"Okay uhh, let me think..." he placed his hand under his chin. "It almost felt like...cuddling?"

"So...someone was cuddling you last night?" you spoke in a hushed tone. You feared the worst when you heard him say those words. Lucifer noticed your change in demeanor and quickly back peddled.

"No, no, that's the thing! I was alone last night!" he reassured you. "I always sleep alone, ever since..." he shook his head as to move on and forget it. But you knew what he was going to say. "It was the strangest damn thing, in the middle of the night no less! And there was a voice that..."

Your brain refused to acknowledge Lucifer's last few words and were more focused on the fact that he was indeed alone last night. "That...certainly is odd. What could..."

Oh no...

Your eyes went wide with fear, your whole body froze, you couldn't bring yourself to finish your thought.

The doll.

The doll you made for him. You went to bed with it last night. You held it in your arms. You kissed it goodnight!

Oh no, oh no, oh no!

"Is everything alright?" Lucifer snapped you back to reality. "You look paler than me!"

You swallowed hard trying to muster up any sort of response. "Y-Yeah! Yeah, I'm totally fine! I just...I realized I promised I would help Angel with something this morning and I completely forgot! So, I'll see you later!"

You didn't give Lucifer a chance to respond as you ran out the door and grabbed the bag you had hidden from view. You didn't let up until you reached your room and slammed the door behind you. You set the bag down carefully onto your bed and gingerly removed the doll from it, using only your nails to hoist it out. You let it lay in your hand as you stared at it with panicked eyes.

"What the hell did I do?!" you asked yourself in a berating tone. "It's just a doll, it shouldn't have - hold on..." A sudden memory came flooding back to you. You called the doll emitting a strange light the night before as soon as you finished sewing the remaining stitches. Last night, you thought it was just the trick of the light; it was late and you were beyond exhausted. But that didn't explain why Lucifer was able to feel you holding him last night. The last thing you did was add "...the feather!"

That must be it! His feather must have caused the connection. Lucifer was an angel after all, a magical being of pure light. Surely anything that was a part of him would carry those same properties. You had to get rid of it! But how? You didn't know the extent of what this doll could feel. Surely stabbing it with a knife would cause him some pain...you think. Given Lucifer was more or less indestructible,  you still didn't really want to test that theory.

So, you stood there with the doll limp in your hand unsure of what to do with it next.

You couldn't bring yourself to destroy it, you put so much work into it and it would kill you to get rid of something that was meant to be an innocent gift. The best option would be to hide it, leave somewhere no one would find it and forget that it even exists. But then, the thought of Lucifer's smile crosses your mind. He was so happy this morning, happier than you've ever seen him. And it was because of you. Not that you would every dream of telling him that. But maybe...maybe it would be alright if you kept it. If you held it close to you at night. Perhaps it wasn't the most moral decision, but hey, you're in Hell, morality is not a common practice here. You brought that doll to your chest and held it tight. "I'm sorry..." you murmured to it, "If I can't tell you how I really feel, maybe this is the next best thing."

For the next several nights, you went to bed with the held tightly. And for the next several days, you couldn't bring yourself to face Lucifer. Anytime you heard him approaching or his voice getting closer, you ran the other direction. But not far enough to completely miss him. While you hid from his view, he had that same jovial expression since the day you made breakfast together. It warned your heart to know that what you were doing had a positive effect on him, even though you couldn't shake the guilt that came with that either. Sometimes he would catch you by surprise and spot you from across the hall. Lucifer would call out to you but you made it a point to get out of there as fast as possible. Strangely enough, he never sought you out after you ran, but you thought that was for the best.

One night before you went to bed, you sat up on your mattress staring at your creation resting in your palms.

"I'm a coward," you told yourself. "I should just tell him the truth. Why am I even doing this? I want him to be happy, but this isn't right. I shouldn't have put the feather in there, I should have just thrown this in my closet and not given it a second thought. But no! Now I'm avoiding him like a frightened cat because I don't have the guts to tell him..." You sighed. "One more night. Just one more. And then I'm done. I'll never think about this again." You turned off your lamp and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

****

You cracked your eyes open the next morning, the light of the red sky filling your room. You sat up and rubbed your eyes before feeling around for your doll. You couldn't find it. Your opened your eyes wider. The doll wasn't there. You leaped from the bed and quickly began turning over your covers and throwing the pillows onto the floor. Nothing. You dropped to the ground and peered under your bed to a shocking sight. You gasped.

Keekee somehow found her way into your room. And what was in her mouth other than your little Lucifer doll.

"Keekee," you called to her. "I'm gonna need that back, sweetie! That's not a toy!" Your hand reached out slowly, trying not to spook the little cat. Her tail whipped back and forth as she raised her hind legs. "Nooooooo, don't you dare Keekee, I swear I'll..." but before you could finish your threat, she bolted from under your bed and ran straight out of your room. "Damn it!"

You didn't have time to change and in that moment you didn't care. You flung the door wide open and watched Keekee turn the corner, the doll still in her tiny mouth. "Keekee, get back here!" you yelled down to her as quietly as you could. You didn't know what time it was but it was too early to be cursing at a cat. She scurried away into another hall, forcing you to chase after her. You never lost sight of her, which you thought was a little odd. Normally Keekee could disappear if she really wanted to, but at no point did she ever make an attempt to avoid you completely. It was almost like she wanted you to follow her.

After several crazy turns, you saw her duck into and open door in one of the hallways. You figured it must be a closet. She was finally trapped. You hurried over to the dark room and pushed the door shut so the cat couldn't escape easily. But now you couldn't see.

"Keekee, come here girl," you cooed. "I promise I'm not mad, I just want the doll back." You found it a little ridiculous that you were trying to barter with a cat, but it was early in the morning and your hadn't fully woken up yet. "This isn't funny anymore, you know. Please, Keekee, I need that back!"

"And why would that be?" a low voice boomed in the dark. You shrieked as the lights flashed on. After blinking a few times trying to get your eye to readjust, you realized where you ended up.

Lucifer's workshop...with Lucifer sitting at his desk, Keekee snuggled in his lap.

Shit.

The first thing you could process was that you were still in your nightgown. Instinctively, you threw your hands over your chest in shock and embarrassment.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" Lucifer apologized, quickly covering his eyes with his forearm. "H-Here!" With a snap of his fingers, a giant blanket formed around you, covering you from head to toe. You gripped it tightly to keep in from falling off your shoulders. Lucifer peaked through his arm to make sure you were decent. "Sorry again, I should have realized you wouldn't have been dressed yet." You felt your cheeks burn as he spoke. He reached down to pet Keekee who had then dropped the doll into his other hand. "Such a good girl, Keekee!" he praised her, "who's a good girl? You are! Yes you are!" He looked back up at you and cleared his throat. Lucifer stood up from his chair while Keekee leaped onto the ground, curling up into a ball, and taking a little nap under his desk.

You swallowed hard before finally finding your voice to speak. "L-Lucifer, I-I can explain! I-"

"It's alright," the fallen angel smiled. "I'm sorry about all this, but you've been avoiding me lately. I knew you'd follow Keekee once you realized she stole this from you." He held out the doll in his hand. "You made this?"

You nodded your head, refusing to make any sort of eye contact. "It was meant as a gift for you. The duck you gave me was amazing, I wanted to give you something in return, but..." you couldn't bring yourself to finish your sentence. Lucifer continued to smile softly at you. This was definitely not the reaction you were expecting from him. You had so many questions and so many apologies to give him, but there was one burning question that you needed answered first. "Did you know something like this was possible?"

Lucifer shook his head. "No, I didn't. One of my feathers is in this, right?" You nod. "It must still contain its magic despite not being attached to me anymore."

Your eyes shifted to the ground. "How did you know it was me?"

"I heard you." You raised your eyebrow, not understanding his answer. "I heard your voice. Anytime you held the doll, I heard you, as if you were whispering in my ear. At first, I didn't recognize it. But as you kept talking, the words you were saying; it all clicked. I've been trying to get your attention these last few days but you ran as soon as you saw me. Were you...afraid that I would be angry?"

You nodded again, tears now welling up in your eyes. "I-I'm sorry, Lucifer, I didn't mean to...I just..."

"Hey, hey! Please don't cry! Please?" Lucifer quickly wiped away the tears that fell down your cheek. "I'm not angry, I promise! I'm the furthest thing from it!"

You sniffled a few times, trying to even out your breathing again. "You...You're not? But why?"

Lucifer looked down at the doll in his hand and sighed. "Because...I haven't felt that kind of care in a long time. " He gently ran his hands over the small striped undershirt of the tiny Lucifer. "Hehe, it feels weird when I do it..." He looked back up at you with the most needy eyes you've ever seen. "I should have talked to you immediately after I figured out what was going on. I should have made more of an effort. But I didn't. I know that's selfish of me. But...I was afraid if I did, you would stop. Every time I tried to talk to you, you ran. And I was silently grateful that you did. It meant I would get to feel that same feeling of being held again that night. When you said that last night would be the final time, I knew I had to come clean. I couldn't let you go on thinking that what you were doing was wrong. I hope you can forgive me."

He was apologizing to you? When you were the one that made this magical doll and refused to tell him about it? "You have nothing to be sorry for, I created this, and I didn't tell you what was happening when I learned what I'd done. This is my fault."

"Can I see your hand?" Lucifer asked, almost as if he was ignoring the blame you were putting on yourself. You did as he asked and outstretched your hand. He placed the doll flat in your palm. "You're very skilled, you know. You did a wonderful job capturing my good side," he chuckled. "I know this was originally meant for me, but I want you to keep it. What you do with it is up to you." You remained perfectly as he spoke. "If you want to forget that this ever happened, I would completely understand. You can put it on a shelf or hide it in a closet, and this will never be brought up again." His palms rested on top of the doll and the bottom of your hand. "But..." his grip tightened ever so slightly, his claws digging into the fabric.

"You don't want that, do you?" his thoughts leaving your mouth. Lucifer didn't respond, he didn't even look up as you asked him.

That was all the answer you needed.

You pulled away and hid the doll under your blanket, giving him a soft smile. "I'll keep it...you safe. I promise. If it's what you really want."

"I do." The king couldn't help but beam at you. He wrapped his arms around you, constricting your own. He pulled away once he realized how hard he had been squeezing you. "Sorry," he laughed lightly. "Umm, by the way, i-if you ever need me, you can use the doll to talk to me if I'm not around. It can be about anything..." he leaned in closer and closer to you until you felt the light brush of his lips against your cheek. "And I do mean anything. I don't want to, you know, assume anything, but there had to be a reason why you went to bed with the doll every night. Some of the things you said...it sounded like you had more that you wanted to say. I just don't want you to be afraid. We're friends after all, right?"

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you listened to his words. You tried to speak but only air left your lips. Lucifer only giggled as you watched his cheeks turn a pale yellow. You couldn't believe what he was inferring. it couldn't be possible. And yet here you were with Lucifer himself practically begging for more of your attention.

"I...I don't know what to say," you finally managed to choke out. "This is all a little overwhelming, Lucifer."

"Then don't say anything," Lucifer responded. "Take all the time you need. I hope to see you soon," With a snap of his fingers, you were engulfed in sparkling red flame. You shielded your eyes for a brief moment. But after opening them again, you found yourself back in your bedroom. You walked over to your open door and quietly closed it, sinking to the floor afterwards. There was a lot you needed to process. The blanket that covered you fell to the floor as you ogled at the doll in your hand.

You hugged it tighter than you ever had before.

****

The rest of the day was perfectly quiet, mostly because you didn’t see Lucifer for the rest of it. You cautiously approached Charlie and asked about him. She let you know that her dad told her he needed his privacy today and that no one should worry. Her words didn't comfort you like you hoped they would. Was Lucifer okay? Did this whole ordeal cause him to isolate himself. Did he change his mind about it? Your heart sunk at the thought. You needed to talk to him again, but you weren't sure you could face him. But...there was another option.

Later that night, you threw on your robe to get ready for a nice long bath. After the day you had, you needed it. You glanced over at the little stuffed doll sitting on your night stand, now hearing your own heartbeat in your ears. It was now or never; you wouldn't let your nerves get the better of you anymore. You took a hold of it and sat down on your bed, now extra aware of  your hand movements.

"Lucifer, can you hear me?" You asked. There was no response. "I guess that was a stupid question. Hey, umm, I wanted to thank you. For today, I mean. I was so afraid that this situation would sully our friendship so badly that you'd never want to talk to me again. I hope you're doing alright. And I hope Keekee's teeth didn't hurt you too badly. I'm rambling now, aren't I?" In that moment, you could almost hear Lucifer's laugh.

The grip on you had on it tightened ever so slightly as you gathered the courage for what you really wanted to say. "You were right before. When you thought I had more to say to you. I-I did. But I didn't know how you would take it if I ever told you. I was afraid of your reaction. And your rejection. But...I don't have the strength to tell you in person." You brought the doll closer to your face, your lips ghosting over the fabric. "I love you," you whispered before planting a small peck to its small cheek.

Silence.

Your breath heaved slightly before setting the doll back down. You closed your eyes and let out a heavy sigh. It was done. There was nothing more you can do. You stood up and headed straight for the tub. You needed that bath now more than ever.

Knock knock knock

You froze in place for a few seconds, a little bit frightened by the sudden noise that emanated from your bedroom door.

Knock knock knock knock knock

The knocking on the door became more eager. You hurried over to answer after waiting a little too long to answer. Silently, you opened the door.

Lucifer was standing there in the hallway with the brightest smile.

"I love you too. I only wish you would have told me sooner," the ruler of Hell whispered as he gripped your hands. "Because then I could have done this!"

With little warning, Lucifer brought his lips to yours. You sat there in shock, eyes wide, before quickly succumbing to his temptations. You let your eyes lids fall as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him closer while his hands found your waist. A delicate kiss to your soft lips, over and over he lightly parted his own as he continuously nipped at you. He pulled away, staring back with his half-lidded eyes. You could have sworn he was drunk of the kiss the way his face formed into a goofy grin. He giggled just a little before widening his eyes in shock and stepping away.

"I'm sorry! I don't know how I keep catching you at the worst times!" he exclaimed now looking at the ceiling to avoid your gaze. You realized what had caused him to get so flustered. You looked down and remembered that you were in your robe.

And only your robe.

You blushed hard, not being able to stop yourself from laughing. "No, no, it's okay! This one's on me, I shouldn't have called you dressed like this."

"But you didn't know I was going to pop over here! My fault, I don't wanna hear any 'buts'!" Lucifer turned his head to the side still doing his best not to look at you.

"Well, I was just getting ready for a bath..." you began.

"O-Oh, yeah, of course! No worries! I really should have thought this through, I just got really excited and I...Anyway! We can talk about this tomorrow! So, I'll just be-"

"My bath is big enough for two." You blurted out without thinking.

At that moment, you could hear a pin drop. What was only a few moments felt like an eternity of silence. Your first instinct was to shut the door and lock it as fast as possible, but your body refused to budge. You just stood there horrified at the words that had escaped your mouth.

Lucifer wasn't faring much better. You watched his whole face turn a bright yellow that spread rapidly over his painted cheeks. And...was he shaking?

"I don't know why I said that," you mumbled almost incoherently. "if you need me, I'll be drowning myself now." You began to close the door before Lucifer caught it.

"I don't want you to drown," he spoke softly with just a hint of humor in his voice. "I better stay to make sure you're safe."

His words shot threw you like an arrow and your body instinctively opened the door once more to let your visitor in. The implications of his acceptance of your accidental offer crashed over you as soon as Lucifer closed the door behind him. He gave you a sheepish smile, his face's yellow tint had yet to rescind.

"I-I'll uhh, I'll draw the bath then," you squeaked and scurried over to the bathroom without another word. You tossed a towel for him onto your bed and hid yourself in the next room as the water began to fill the tub. You felt as though you could pass out at any moment; the crushing anxiety mixed with your burning desire to be as close to him as physically possible was a terrifying yet tantalizing feeling. To counter your worry, you grabbed some bottled soap from the counter and mixed it in with the steaming water, creating thousands of little white bubbles that threatened to spill over onto the floor. You would worry about any mess made later; right now, you wanted to savor this moment as much as you possibly could. Disrobing, you stepped into the now full tub and sunk down into the soothing water. Your heart was still beating a mile a minute but the water did half a sort of calming effect on you.

Knock knock knock

Well, that didn't last long.

"May I join you now?" Lucifer's muffled voiced called out.

A few quick deep breaths later, you cleared your throat, praying your voice wouldn't reveal how utterly stressed you were. "Y-Yes, come in!" Perhaps a poor choice of words, but you didn't have time to think about that when you caught your first glimpse of a nearly naked Lucifer. His alabaster skin looked as if he had been carved from the finest marble, his shoulders were broad compared to his relatively slim physique. Your eyes trailed to his blackened arms and hands that perfectly contrasted the rest of his skin. He was the epitome of perfection. The man closed the door behind him and made his way over to you.

"H-Hi," Lucifer stuttered.

"Heeeyyyyy there..." you rolled your eyes. "Listen, we can agree this is just a little awkward, right?"

Lucifer chuckled. "Maybe just a little bit. How's the water?"

"Join me and see for yourself! I'll just umm..." you turned your head and covered the side of your face with your hand, assuring you wouldn't see anything once he removed his towel.

"I'm not shy, hon." You just knew if you turned around, he would have the most prideful smirk on his face.

"You should get in before I change my mind," you playfully shot back.

You heard his towel hit the floor immediately. A fiery heat burned your core as the water shifted when he made his way in the tub. You closed your eyes for good measure so that you wouldn't be tempted to make this even more awkward than it already was. As soon as the water stopped moving, you took that as a sign that it was safe to look again. You turned your head to see Lucifer was sitting back against the other side playfully running his hands through the soapy bubbles that were floating on the surface.

"I love the bubbles, a very nice touch!" he commented.

"Thanks," you murmured. "You're sitting the wrong way though."

"Huh?"

"W-Well," you cleared your throat, "how am I supposed to clean you if you’re sitting so far away?"

"Oh...oh! Yeah, you're right!" Lucifer quickly spun his body around, his back now facing you. You spread your legs wider for him to scoot up closer to you, but he remained closer to the center of the tub. "Is this better?"

"Still a little too far..." The time for embarrassment had long gone. You grabbed a hold of Lucifer's hips and brought his body nearly flush between your thighs, earning a yelp from the startled angel. "What happened to not being shy, hmm?" you taunted. You could have sworn a little whimper escaped his throat.

Despite its frigid appearance, his body was warmer than you expected. You didn't let your hands linger on his waist for too long nor did you want to think about how his ass was mere inches away from your yearning womanhood. You forced yourself out of the trance and instead grabbed the washcloth and body soap from the small table and began to pour some of the liquid into the small towel, rubbing it between your fingers. "You promise to tell me if this becomes too much?"

Lucifer turned his head with a soft look on his face. "I promise that it won't be." You hummed, slowly bringing the cloth to his skin. He shuddered from the contact.

"Are you alright, Lucifer?"

He exhaled deeply. "I'm alright. More than alright! I'm just...really enjoying this. Thank you..."

You didn't waist anymore time scrubbing the rest of his back clean. Moving to his shoulders, down each arms, then reaching around the front to get to his chest. Without realizing, your head found its way to one of his shoulders, your chin resting comfortably. A soft sigh left your lips.

"Hey, uhh, y-you're going a little low there..." Lucifer said, his voice snapping you out of your haze. Your hand somehow drifted below the water and ended up resting on his lower stomach. Once you realized where you were heading, you pulled your arms away immediately.

"Sorry!" you nearly shouted. "I-I wasn't paying attention! Shit, I'm sorry!"

Lucifer shifted again, now facing you and gave you a small peck. "Sweetheart, it's alright, really! You don't need to apologize." Lucifer took the rag from your hand and made his way back to where he first started against the other side of the tub. "Here, let me return the favor. It's your turn now." With mild hesitation, you accepted his help wordlessly, turning your back to him as he did for you. Afraid of getting any closer, you stopped before any noticeable contact had been made. "I need you closer, dear," he whispered in your ear before pulling you against his chest with minimal effort.

You felt everything in that moment; his hands resting on your hips, his hot breath against your sensitive skin, and most distracting of all, his very noticeable hard on against the small of your back. It took everything you had to not scream like you wanted to. Knowing that this perfect creator was turned on by you made your heart flutter like a butterfly. Your body begged you to shift, if only a little bit, just to feel him rub against you. But you fought it against it furiously, digging your finger into the sides of his thighs to keep yourself grounded. The way your body tensed caused Lucifer to push you away from him slightly.

"Too much?" he asked, concerned that he may have crossed a line.

"No." you shook your head. You pushed yourself back against him, the friction sending a shiver up your spine. The low moan from Lucifer was magical, almost hypnotic. You needed to hear more. But before you could shift again, you felt the soft texture of the washcloth against your back.

"Good," his voice causing goosebumps to form on your arms, "now let's get you clean." He mimicked your movements, gliding the cloth against your soft skin, starting from the top and working his way down methodically. He moved to your shoulders, first the left and the right. Every muscle in your body just wanted to relax into him; you only wanted to float in this water with him for the rest of the night. But you were snapped out of your daydream when you noticed his movements had stopped. You looked down and saw his hand resting on your collarbone. It took only a moment to realize why the devil himself became a statue.

Lucifer swallowed hard behind you. "Am I allowed to...can I...?"

With a small giggle, you took the cloth from his hand and tossed it to the ground. Pulling your hands out of the water, you guided his own hands to your breasts. Lucifer gasped lightly but didn't pull away once your released his hands. His claws felt so nice on your bare skin that you let out a gasp of your own. "I think we're past the point of modesty, Lucifer. Go ahead, I-I want you to touch me."

Your permission was all he needed. Within a second, the king of Hell began to massage your breasts with the most delicate of touches, kneading them like fresh dough. His mouth sank down onto your pulse, sucking on it feverishly. A small whimper escaped your throat as he began to roll your nipples between his fingers. The man was intoxicated and you were the cause.

"You're too good to me, you know that?" he breathed against your skin. "Do you know how long I've wanted to tell you how beautiful you are? How enchanting? How irresistible?" One of his hands made its way down your side to your hip, sinking beneath the water and resting on your inner thigh. "To hold you like this is a dream come true."

"Lucifer, please..." you begged. Your hand found his once more and guided it down to where you needed him most. Once his fingers reached your folds, you couldn't help but whimper. In no time, he began circling your clit gingerly while his other hand worked at your breast. It was too much and not enough at the same time. You opened your legs as wide as your tub would allow to give him more access to your needy hole.

"Tell me what you want, love," he whispered in your ear. "Just say the word and it's yours."

"Touch me..." you pleaded.

You felt a finger slip into you effortlessly, a broken moan falling from your lips. You turned your head and crashed your lips into his, your desire for him only growing with every passing second. Another one of his fingers slid into you, his digits gliding in and out of your pussy with ease. He moaned into your mouth as he continued to pump his digits into your cunt, his pace increasing slowly with every movement.

"Need more of you..." he pleaded. "Please..." His fingers refused to let up. The coil in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter. You cried out in pure elation when you felt the coil finally give way, cumming hard and pulsing around his fingers that had yet to slow down. Once you could breathe normally against, he at last retreated his fingers from you, giving you a small peck on your forehead.

"T-Thank you," you mumbled out. "I think we're both pretty clean now, wouldn't you say."

"I'd say your right," Lucifer agreed. In a flash, Lucifer managed to stand up and scoop you up effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. You let out a small yelp when he picked you up and set you down on the bathroom floor, retrieving a towel from the nearby rack and sliding it up and down your body before using it on himself. "But I think this is all for naught," he continued as he guided you back to your bed, "because I think we may need another bath, I'm afraid."

He laid you down and quickly shoved his heads between your legs. You realized what he was about to do and sat up before he could go any further. "Wait, wait, hold on now!" Lucifer's eyes looked back at you with concern. "I don't think this is fair! What about you? I haven't even touched you yet!"

Lucifer gaze softened. "Oh, hon, I appreciate it but you don't have to worry about me! I-I'm fine, really! I just...I really need to taste you... Please, I'll do anything!"

You closed your legs and folded your arms over your chest, earning a tiny whimper from the man in front of you. "I seem to recall that I could have anything I wanted," you teased. Lucifer nodded and stuck out his lower lip to pout. You rolled your eyes and smiled, crawling over to him. "I have an idea. But you need to lay down for me. Can you do that?"

He did as you said almost instantly, his head hitting the back of the pillows with a soft thud. At this point you couldn't help but stare at his twitching cock. It was beautiful; thicker and longer than you might have expected from someone of his stature. Not that you would ever complain. You had to hold yourself back from letting out a whine that threatened to make you sound even more pathetic. You closed your eyes and crawled over the devil beneath you. You leaned down to kiss him again, his tongue not holding back from pushing through your lips and entangling it with yours. You pulled away and smiled unabashedly at him, admiring his perfect face and his insanely adorable blush. Without a word, you turned your body so your pussy hovered inches away from his mouth.

"S-Shit..." you heard Lucifer mutter under his breath. Knowing you had this much of an effect on him gave you the confidence you needed to grab ahold of his aching member. Lucifer couldn't help but cry out.

"This way we both get what we want," you told him before giving his tip a tiny little kitten lick. The precum from his shaft had already begun spilling onto your hand; you couldn't help but grin. "Someone is needyyyyYYYY F-FUCK!"

Lucifer pulled your hips down onto his face without warning, his tongue working at your slick cunt like a man starved. HIs claws dug into the sides of your body, the pain mixing with the undeniable pleasure his mouth gave you. Not to be outdone, you sunk your mouth down on his cock, licking and sucking at the tip. Lucifer moaned into your pussy at the feeling of your tongue. Both of your lust-filled sounds filled your room as you each sought to bring the other to their climax. You wouldn't let him win. You couldn't.

Your head bobbed up and down his girthy shaft over and over, taking in as much of him as you could. But with your growing pace came Lucifer's own counter move as his forked tongue pushed even further into you than you thought possible. You were both coming undone impossibly fast. Even with your head fuzzy from the tantalizing feeling of his mouth, your hand and mouth worked together in tandem to push him over the edge. Lucifer cursed against your skin as you felt his hot cum finally fill your waiting mouth. But it only took him a few seconds more to bring you to another orgasm after he begun to tease your clit over and over and over, refusing to give you any sort of reprieve.

You swallowed as much of his as you could before letting go of his cock with a satisfying pop with some of his release dripping down towards your chin. You wiped your fingers against the remains and made sure he watched as you licked them clean. Something in Lucifer must have snapped because the next thing you knew, you had been flipped down onto the mattress with your wrists pinned at your sides. You blinked and stared up into Lucifer now glowing red eyes; his. His demonic horns had burst from his temple, his angelic wings appeared and began flapping behind him, and his tail whipped back and forth before coiling itself around your waist. You gulped, your pussy begging to be filled by the man above you.

"Sorry," Lucifer apologized. "I got a little too excited there." He freed your hands and brought them down to your hips. "D-Do you want to keep going? We can stop if this is too much and-"

You cut him off with a soft kiss to his lips. "It's alright, Luci. I want this. I want you."

Lucifer smiled and kissed you again, stroking his still hard cock in the process. When he pulled away, you felt the tip graze your slick folds. That feeling alone was enough to make you shudder with anticipation. With final nod from you, Lucifer at last began to sink into you. You winced at the pain you felt as your body forced itself to stretch for him until he finally bottomed out inside of you. The pain slowly faded as he waited patiently, smiling at you the entire time.

"Y-You can move now," you squeaked out.

Lucifer nodded, shifting his hips just enough to pull out of you almost all the way before thrusting back in, earning a wanton moan from you. He started slow for you, knowing his size was a bit much to handle. But as your body relaxed, his picked up the pace. Faster and faster until both of you were complete and utter moaning messes.

"F-Fuck...feel so good, love," Lucifer sighed as his wings began to twitch. "S-So good. So perfect...I'm really happy y-you made that doll. I-I know everything didn't go exactly as planned but...GAAHHH FFFFUCK...I think it all turned out f-for the better, don't you think?"

Your moans turned into giggles as he continued to rut into you relentlessly. "You're s-such a dork," you laughed as your legs wrapped around him to force him to keep him as deep inside you as possible.

"B-But I'm your dork," he joked back. "Sorry love, but you're stuck with m-me now!"

"G-Good," you responded breathlessly, his hips thrusting into you even faster than before. "Then we c-can be dorks together!"

"P-Perfect!" Your cunt sucked in his cock as you felt the coil in your stomach tightening again. By the noises he was making, you can only assume Lucifer was almost at his limit too. "Darling...c-can't...I'm close...f-fuck...where-"

"Inside!" you screamed. "FuckfuckfuckFUCK LUCIFER!" Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your wanton cries echoing off the corners of your room. It only took a few more thrusts for Lucifer to follow suit and spill his seed inside of you, his cum painting your walls a pearlescent white was he pulled you in close for another passionate kiss.

The king crashed on top of you after pulling out of you, his unearthly features retreating except for his tail which remained firmly wrapped around you. You smiled as he laid his head on your chest, his breathing labored and shaky. You stroked his soft blond hair as he hummed in approval. He looked up at you with adoring eyes and stuck out his snake-like tongue.

"What's that look for?" you asked him.

"Oh nothing," Lucifer sighed, "I'm just looking at the prettiest woman in all of Hell is all!"

You pushed his face away and laughed. "Yep, still a dork."

"But you love me!" he said gleefully, rolling onto the bed and pulling you into a tight embrace.

"I do, I really do. I wish I would have told you sooner."

Lucifer kissed the top of your forehead. "Don't worry, hon, I know now. And that's all that matters. Besides, I finally get to hold you now! And wow, does it feel like heaven!"

You buried your face in his chest and squeezed him tight. "Well, I can say for certain that you feel much better than the doll. Would you...like to stay over tonight?"

"Of course I would love," he spoke softly. "I have you in my arms now, and I don't intend on ever letting you go."

~~~~

THIS TOOK WAY TOO FUCKING LONG, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANYWAY!!!!!!!!!!!

Taglist: @ask-theradio-demon @kermitdafroggy @thonethatflies620 @luc1fersducky @a-okay-rj

@bat-boness @myhornybrainonlyknowsthis @misfitgirlwrites @animationmovieshipps @orbitinglumps

@ramenkitten @blaackbiird @bigfatbimbo @lucisaspen @pvppybun

@seulace9 @fluffypinkpillows @starlightdreaming @k-n0-x @rosen-und-mondlicht

@heavenlyraindrops @ronniesgonerogue @ag-cookiebat800 @victoriousvic @meesachan

@rand0m-1diot @lonelynmisunderstood @godsent69 @yourmom132 @liveontelevision

@luci-lover-forever @lolalovesmorningstar @moonlight-readings @nayomi247 @la-undercover-latina

@yve-barr @literallurker @leviskittywh0re @thornwolfy235 @qu1cks1lversb1tch

@lauruoriii @annybah @jayyyayaysblog @sweet-radio @diffidentphantom

@sunflower-reaper @6esiree @writteninlunarlight-years

[rottenpumpkin13]

Things Found On The SOLDIER Bulletin Board Before It Got Banned

Also known among the operatives as "Exhibit A in HR's Case Against Us" and "Why Lazard drinks"

• An old timey style wanted poster of Sephiroth.

• A Shinra Crypto Pyramid Scheme Recruitment Poster: "Get rich! Ask me how!" flyer definitely not put up by Genesis.

• A candid, casual shot of Angeal in a towel, with a sticky note on it that reads "This man's physique is impeccable and we should all strive to look like him - Kunsel"

• An unofficial and deeply Inappropriate SOLDIER length ranking. A full infographic-style chart titled "Who's Really First Class?" — featuring stylized silhouettes, pixelated measurements, very unscientific bar graphs, with one bar labeled "??? (Sephiroth)" that pierced through the top of the page and kept going onto the wall behind.

• A heavily redacted mission report re-titled "How To Get Bitches In Wall Market" By Roche. Accompanied by a pinned photo of Roche, Zack, Kunsel and Cloud in front of the Honeybee Inn doing a thumbs up. Entire paragraphs blacked out with Sharpie by Lazard.

• A sign reading: "STOP SCREAMING IN THE AIR DUCTS." Below it: a list of times screams were heard, organized by pitch. "3:12 AM – Zack: "YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE," 4:47 AM – Genesis: operatic shriek followed by "What an ADORABLE rat!",, "2:16 PM – Kunsel: 🎶 Vent mann, he's in the vents 🎶 Who's gonna tell 'im he can't be in the vents? 🎶

• A complaint letter written entirely in Wingdings. No one could decipher what it said, but Sephiroth pinned it dead center with his sword and left it there for a week. Genesis claimed it translated to "STOP LEAVING RAW EGGS IN THE SHOWERS. THE HOT WATER IS COOKING THEM."

• "Kunsel Knows" Weekly Gossip Column. Typed, laminated, and mysteriously accurate. This week's headline: "Rufus and Tseng: Covert Lovers?" Kunsel denies authorship every time while distributing fresh copies.

• A photo labeled "Sephiroth, age 6." Except it was clearly taken recently. Featured a photo of Sephiroth happily filling a coloring page while eating animal crackers.

• A prayer candle with Lazard's face on it nailed to the bulletin board. Taped under the header: "Our Administrative Savior, Deliver Us From Overtime." Lit regularly by Angeal. Burned through the wall once. No one confessed.

• "Sign Up for the Shirtless Sparring Tournament!" flyer sponsored unofficially by Zack. Angeal's name was written 42 times all in different handwriting by different people. Among them was noticeably Sephiroth's handwriting 12 times.

• An updated Lost and Found photo collage of strange things retrieved from the training room. Notable entries included: A weaponized tree branch with "property of Sephiroth" carved into it, an Angeal body pillow, a molotov cocktail, a Genesis-themed rubber duck, Cloud Strife looking confused, and a suspicious flashlight.

• A flyer titled: "Genesis Says He Can Fly Now, Come Watch at Noon"

• A very official-looking memo from HR titled "You Are Not Allowed To Challenge Sephiroth To Arm Wrestling, Ever Again."

• A letter addressed to Lazard written entirely in glitter pen that read only: "You can't fire us all. ❤️"

• A laminated page titled "Forbidden Moves Banned From Sparring" Included: A photo of Sephiroth and Genesis beating each other with makeshift marker swords.

• Two photos pinned side by side: one of Sephiroth and the other of ex-turk Vincent Valentine. People would gather around while Kunsel divulged his theories using a presentation pointer stick.

[luv4freddie]

Polaroid Love - F.W

Fred goes to work with his father and comes home with a muggle Polaroid camera, deciding the best use of it would be to take horrendous pictures of his girlfriend.

Fred x fem!Muggleborn reader, established relationship, reader gets red, house and age not specific, tooth rotting fluff bc I love lovesick Fred, 1.2 k words

Being a muggleborn at the Weasley household was an experience, to say the least.

In the last week since you’ve been at the Burrow, you’ve explained what rubber ducks are for, how to operate a microwave, and Pythagorean theorem.

Today Aurthur took the boys to work with him, so you were currently helping Molly cook dinner.

You had yet to understand the witchy way of cooking, so you were stuck mixing a bowl by hand while Molly sent knives, pots, and pasta flying all across the room.

You ducked a flying cutting board right as the group of rowdy boys entered the front door, your boyfriends voice in particular carrying over the noise of clattering dish ware.

“Honey, we’re home.” Aurthur calls, and Molly meets them all at the door, asking you to ‘keep an eye on’ the multitude of activity in the kitchen.

You look around with wide eyes, imagining all the magical pots dropping to the floor and spoons stopping their stirring, Molly walking in and wondering how you were so incompetent that you would never be able to cook and therefore would be a horrible wife to her son.

You’re only snapped out of your reverie by a flash of light in your eyes, and you tumble back to your current environment— all the dishes are still floating, the spoons were still moving, and Fred was staring at you with a giant grin on his face.

“Hi Freddie!” You light up at the sight of your boyfriend, but don’t allow his attempt at hugging you, too focused on not disappointing your (hopefully) future mother-in-law.

“They’re not gonna stop working unless mom makes them, these things are always going.”

But you refuse to budge, and Molly walks in to see you holding your boyfriend away with one hand on his chest while you continue trying to stir with the other.

She lets out a laugh, telling Fred to leave you alone and go wash up before dinner.

“One kiss? Pleaseeee?” He gives you puppy eyes, and your face goes bright red.

“Not in front of your parents!” You hiss, but he steals a one anyway before running up the stairs and out of the way of the punch you tried to throw at him.

Molly pretends not to have seen, and you let your face cool down before asking what she wants you to do next.

Fifteen minutes later you’re sat at the large table, sandwiched between the twins while Ron talks to you from across the table.

“It was pretty fun, and we all got muggle souvenirs afterward, can you explain to me what this is?” He asks, holding up a PEZ dispenser with a cartoon character head on top.

You laugh, explaining how to get the candy out and watching as a few of the Weasley’s around the table stop to watch, Aurthur positively beaming at the discovery.

“Take a bite before dad can ask you something,” Fred whispers urgently in your ear, and you go to say something back but see Aurthur open his mouth on the other side of the table and you quickly scoop as much pasta into your mouth as you can fit.

You hear Fred laugh at you, and you turn to give him a glare; although it’s less scary due to the copious amounts of noodle hanging out of your mouth.

A flash once again momentarily blinds you, and you finally realize what it is when you see the small Polaroid camera in your boyfriend’s hand.

You go to yell at him, but still have pasta in your mouth so you settle for an angry groan and another smack to his arm.

You watch in horror as a piece of film comes out of the camera, which your boyfriend takes gingerly and looks at expectantly as it develops.

You finally manage to swallow your large bite, and you snatch the photo from his grasp, immediately being greeted by your own face, round with food in your cheeks and wide eyes while strands of pasta hang down your chin and sauce sits on the corners of your mouth.

“Freddie,” you groan in annoyance, but he just takes the photo back from your hands and looks at it proudly.

“It’s a lovely representation of you, darling.”

“It is not!!”

George is laughing too, and you turn back to your plate, trying not to think about the fact that your boyfriend now has two horrible pictures of you for keepsakes.

You try to help clean up after dinner, but Molly insists that someone else does it since you helped cook, so you head upstairs to your boyfriend’s room while Ron and Ginny grumble.

“Evening, love,” Fred greets as you enter the twins’ room.

“Y/n,” George greets as well, tipping his nonexistent hat to you before turning his back to you so he can start a letter to Angelina.

Your boyfriend uses the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, trapping you in his embrace and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I missed you today.” He mumbles into your hair.

“It wasn’t even a full day,” you laugh, the sound muffled by his chest.

He scoffs, sitting down on his bed and pulling you onto his lap.

“So what, I’m not allowed to miss my girl?”

You feel your cheeks warming at the claim of being his, and you give him a teasing smile, “well when you say it like that..”

Before you can even move there’s another flash and you immediately groan, burying your head into the crook of your boyfriend’s neck.

“I’m really starting to resent your dad for getting you that.”

You feel his shoulders shake with laughter, but all he says is “I think it’s my second favorite possession.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, pulling back so he can see it.

“Second favorite?”

“Yep. After these pictures.” He grins, now holding up all three photos he’s taken of you since being home.

“Why can’t you just take pictures like a normal person?” You ask, looking at the two new photos, the one from earlier of you with a wooden spoon in your hand and eyes looking around while bowls float around your head, and the newest one of you sat on Fred’s legs with pink cheeks and a grin on your face.

“Normal people don’t get to keep your happy face in their pockets though, now do they?”

You watch as he puts the photos back, and you melt at the thought of your boyfriend wanting to document your joy to keep as his own.

“I’m always wearing my happy face when I’m around you, Freddie.”

He grins (ignoring George’s gagging) and pulls you down onto his bed, smothering you in kisses until he can no longer keep himself up and your face is brighter than his hair.

“Guess I’ll have to get more film then.”

And he does.

In fact, by the time you get back to Hogwarts from the holidays he’s got a whole wall of polaroids .

You in his Christmas sweater with a proud smile on your face and an F across your chest, you being squeezed by his mother in the worlds tightest hug, you on a broom in his backyard and a quaffle in your arms, you asleep on his bed, even one of you puckering up as if to give the camera a kiss.

And no matter how many times he looks at them, Fred still stares at the photos with a lovesick smile on his face, absolutely in awe at the ability to capture pictures that are so you, so full of light and love that he feels like the luckiest man on Earth to get to be yours.

[ericshoney]

Study Buddies ~ Peter Parker

Summary: Whilst studying with Peter, you have some spies making sure nothing bad is going on.

Warnings: Chaos

Reader's Age: 15

The hum of the Avengers Tower vibrated gently through the floor as Y/n, perched on the edge of her bed, chewed on the end of her pen. Physics was not her strong suit. Across from her, Peter, masked in concentration, scribbled furiously in his notebook, occasionally muttering equations under his breath.

"Okay, so potential energy… it's like, stored energy, right?" Y/n asked, her brow furrowed.

Peter looked up, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "Exactly! Like a stretched rubber band. The further you pull it, the more potential energy it has."

"And kinetic energy is when... it's moving?"

"Bingo! Like when you release that rubber band and it snaps."

Y/n nodded slowly, trying to visualise it. Having Peter, a fellow teen Avenger, as a study buddy was infinitely better than trying to decipher the textbook alone. He had a knack for explaining things in a way that actually made sense.

Unknown to them, just outside Y/n’s reinforced door, a silent comedy of errors was unfolding. The Avengers, in varying degrees of stealth, were attempting to eavesdrop.

Tony Stark, naturally, was in the lead, armed with a ridiculously high-tech listening device that looked suspiciously like a souped-up stethoscope. "Alright, people, quiet! We need to monitor the situation."

"Monitor what situation, exactly, Tony?" Natasha Romanoff drawled, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. "Two teenagers are studying. I hardly think we need a full-scale surveillance operation."

"Oh, come on, Nat," Clint Barton whispered, peeking through the crack in the doorway. "They're fifteen. Hormones are raging. We have a responsibility to ensure… appropriate behaviour."

Steve Rogers, ever the voice of reason, sighed. "Don't you think this is a bit… invasive?"

"Invasive?" Tony scoffed. "I call it proactive parenting. Besides, Happy's on vacation. Someone has to keep an eye on things." He pressed the listening device against the door, then winced. "Ow! My ears! They're actually studying! And Peter's explaining it. He's a good kid."

Inside the room, Peter was demonstrating the principles of kinetic energy with a crumpled-up piece of paper he'd launched across the room. "See? Potential energy, crumpled paper. Kinetic energy, paper being launched! Simple!"

Y/n giggled, snagging the paper and throwing it back. "Okay, okay, I get it! But what about the gravitational constant? That's where I'm really lost."

Outside, the Avengers exchanged uneasy glances. This was far more innocent than they had anticipated.

"Maybe we should… leave them to it?" Steve suggested, already backing away.

But Tony, ever stubborn, shook his head. "No, no. We're committed now. Besides, I want to see if Peter can handle thermodynamics. That's the real test."

He adjusted his stethoscope, inadvertently knocking against the door.

The door creaked open slightly. Y/n, alerted by the noise, spun around. "Hello?"

Tony ducked behind a potted plant, accidentally upending it and sending soil cascading across the hallway. Clint, caught in the crossfire, yelped as dirt went down his shirt. Natasha, maintaining her composure, simply glared at them both.

"Everything alright, Y/n?" Steve called out, his voice betraying a clear lack of conviction.

Y/n opened the door wider, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. Tony, covered in soil, clutched the broken remains of the potted plant; Clint, brushing frantically at his shirt; Natasha, radiating disapproval; and Steve, looking utterly mortified.

"What… what are you guys doing?" she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.

Peter, emerging from behind her, blinked in surprise. "What's going on?"

The Avengers exchanged panicked glances.

Tony, ever the master of improvisation, cleared his throat. "We were… uh… checking on the… the structural integrity of the doorframe! Yes! We heard a… creaking sound. Safety first, you know."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Right. And the dirt?"

Clint chimed in, "And I was checking the strength of your door lock."

“With dirt?” Y/n said. “You covered yourself with dirt to check the strength of a door lock?”

"Occupational hazard?" Clint offered weakly.

The silence stretched, broken only by the rustling of leaves as the uprooted plant lay on the floor. Then, Y/n couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing.

Peter joined in, quickly understanding the absurdity of the situation.

Even Natasha cracked a small smile.

"Okay, okay," Y/n said, wiping tears from her eyes. "I get it. You guys were spying on us."

Tony, defeated, sighed. "Fine. You caught us. We were just… concerned."

"We trust you both," Steve added quickly. "It was just… well, you know Tony."

Y/n grinned. "Don't worry, I'm not mad. It's actually pretty funny. But next time, maybe just ask if we need anything. We're fine, I promise. Just studying."

"And failing miserably," Peter added with a grin.

"Well, in that case," Tony said, regaining some of his usual swagger, "Maybe I can help. I did invent a few things in my day, you know." He pointed at the scattered dirt. "First, let's get that cleaned up, then maybe a little physics lesson from the man himself."

And so, the Avengers, slightly sheepish but ultimately relieved, trooped into Y/n’s room, leaving their espionage behind. The atmosphere lightened, and for a while, the world's mightiest heroes were just a group of people helping two teenagers navigate the complexities of high school physics. Even if it did involve a lot of dirt.

Tags:

@riowritesitall @mandmilovehim @parkjihoonsnudes @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @lgbtq-girl

Dividers by: @issysh3ll

[poofiewoofie]

[ In which Damian Wayne is dipped into the lazarus pits as a babe in order to ensure his perfection. During one such event, something comes out with him. ]

Cue overprotective ghost big bro wreaking havoc in the league of assassins and, eventually, the batfam. 

The relationship between Danny and Damian is simply:

Dami: He don't bite.

Literally anybody, getting mauled the moment they even look at Damian weird: YES HE DO

Some notes if I were to ever write this into anything:

This fic would take place in the "future". Danny, a borderline immortal being, has long since outlived his friends and family (with a few exceptions like Dani and a few people becoming ghosts). With this in mind, he doesn't really leave the ghost zone anymore unless he's incredibly bored. Aaaand since the ghost zone operates on a different scale of time and ghosts are weird, he's a bit out of his depth when he leaves. Thus: he embraces his ghost side almost full time.

Danny is of course the ghost king because you can't have a dpxdc fic without that trope.

Damian is 100% shipped to Bruce early, only because the league Can Not™️ with the kid's eldritch guard dog.

Danny "pranks" the league by being a creepy little shit. That, and doing the stupidest shit. Like slowly filling Ra's Al Ghul's private room with rubber ducks until it becomes unbearable. 

Let it be said that Ra's has definitely debated just murking his grandson to stop the rubber duck rebellion.

Danny doesn't like Bruce. Of all the batfam, he has it out especially for him. Probably something to do with being rich and having a creepy underground lair.

You know who Danny does like? Jason. Wow, what a shocker. 

Danny also definitely cheers Damian on when he tries to impale any of his adoptive siblings. It's a love language.

[noobiestnoober]

Cringe and Command: Assistant Unleashed - Part 2 (Wesker's Assistant Chronicles)

🧪 Cringe and Command: Assistant Unleashed 💥

(Wesker's Assistant Chronicles – Part 2) You survived being the Umbrella Corporation’s most chaotic employee... but did Wesker?

Rubber ducks. Glitter bombs. A PowerPoint critique that made Albert Wesker walk out of his own briefing. The assistant returns—and resistance is still, very much, futile. 🎈💀 🍰 Featuring: B.O.W. morale support, Nemesis in party hats, and Wesker’s slow descent into madness.

🧁 Special thanks to @xtwistedchaosx for demanding a Part 2. You unleashed the chaos. This one's for you.

Read more here >>> Wesker’s Assistant Chronicles – Masterlist

Day 127

After the "incident" involving laser pointers, disco lights, and a suspiciously choreographed Nemesis dance routine, Wesker implemented "mandatory professionalism protocols." The memo he issued was six pages long, with four appendices, three graphs, and a very serious "Tone of Voice" guide.

New rules:

No memes in lab reports.

No "motivational" posters featuring Mr. X flexing.

No altering the PowerPoint transitions to "exploding pigeons."

No spontaneous karaoke battles during viral sample testing.

Absolutely no party hats on B.O.W.s during inspections.

A formal dress code: no novelty socks, regardless of how "morale-boosting" they were.

Naturally, you took this as a personal challenge. Each rule became a personal quest to break, preferably with maximum flair and theatrical timing.

Day 130

You replaced all of Wesker's serious lab safety posters with ones that said, "Remember: World Domination Starts With Safety First!" The posters featured cartoon B.O.W.s wearing tiny hard hats, goggles, and some inexplicably carrying clipboards. One even had a safety vest two sizes too small stretched across Nemesis' chest.

Wesker ripped one down and brandished it like it was an offense punishable by firing squad. "Who authorized this idiocy?"

You took a slow, deliberate sip from your #1 Evil Genius Assistant mug. "OSHA."

He inhaled sharply through his nose, visibly counting. You counted silently with him. He lasted until "six" before storming off, muttering something about "corporate betrayal" and "insubordination through art."

Day 145

Field mission briefing. The air was tense. Operatives lined the walls. Wesker strode up to the podium, ready to deliver his meticulously prepared speech. At the last second, you switched the presentation to "Top 5 Ways Wesker Could Improve His Monologues," complete with pie charts, celebrity reenactments, and edited video clips of Tom Hiddleston's best villain speeches.

"Tom Hiddleston could do it better," you noted helpfully, clicking to the next slide showing Loki monologuing to an audience of terrified civilians.

Wesker stared at the screen. Then at you. Then back at the screen. A vein near his temple throbbed in rhythm with the red emergency lights. He said nothing. He simply turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

Behind him, some of the operatives exchanged glances. One barely stifled a laugh. Another whispered, "She lives dangerously," with clear admiration. You called that Victory by Technical Knockout. Bonus points for style.

Day 158

You found Wesker genuinely sulking at his desk, glasses off, scribbling aimlessly across crumpled notepaper filled with increasingly dark doodles of broken coffee machines and burning cupcakes.

"Albert," you said seriously, kneeling beside him like a tired parent coaxing a stubborn toddler. "You have to stop taking my jokes so personally."

He didn't look at you. "You called me an anime villain suffering a midlife crisis."

"Affectionately," you clarified, patting his shoulder with mock sympathy.

He shot you a look over the rim of his sunglasses. "Get out."

"I'll go bake cupcakes," you offered. "It's Nemesis' adoption day anniversary."

"That is not a recognized event."

"It is now. I made invitations." You handed him a glittery card with Nemesis drawn in crayon.

Wesker blinked at it, dead-eyed, and quietly placed it face down on his desk.

Day 165

You "accidentally" filled the break room vending machines with rubber ducks instead of snacks. When Wesker discovered the situation, a rubber duck squeaked mournfully beneath his boot. He stood frozen, as if deciding whether to commit mass murder or have an existential crisis.

You peeked in. "Team morale, sir."

From the corner, a couple of lab techs desperately tried to hide their laughter behind clipboards. Mr. X stood beside the coffee machine, holding a rubber duck gently in both massive hands, gazing at it like it was a newborn child.

"Get. Out."

You didn’t. Instead, you handed Wesker a rubber duck wearing sunglasses and a tiny red cape, whispering solemnly, "For courage."

Then you walked away whistling Barbie Girl, leaving him speechless in the break room.

Day 180

In a last-ditch effort to regain control, Wesker handed you a sealed manila folder labeled TOP SECRET with grim determination. Inside? A single sticky note: STOP BRINGING BALLOONS TO BLACK SITE OPERATIONS.

You stared at him. He stared at you. Somewhere between you, silent warfare broke out.

"You're just mad because the B.O.W.s liked them," you said.

In the corner of the lab, Nemesis solemnly patted a deflated balloon tied to his massive wrist, like a child mourning a lost pet. Someone had drawn a smiley face on it in Sharpie. It was tragic. Wesker sighed—long and heavy—like a man who had seen the end of his dreams and found only rubber ducks, cupcakes, and glitter.

"Fine."

"Fine," you agreed brightly, victorious once more.

Naturally, you brought balloons to the next ops meeting anyway. With glitter. And party hats. And, for good measure, a bubble machine.

Wesker stared at the chaos unfolding before him: B.O.W.s batting balloons into the air, operatives ducking glitter explosions, and Nemesis carefully tying a party hat around Mr. X.

He rubbed his temples, muttered darkly about "auditions for a circus," and—for the first time in recorded Umbrella history—seriously contemplated early retirement.

(At this point, even Wesker knows: resistance is futile.)

👀 Next time on Wesker’s Assistant Chronicles… Let’s just say Nemesis is about to discover skincare. And Wesker? Wesker’s about to need a stronger headache medication.

“Self-care night.” “WHY IS THERE A SCENTED CANDLE IN MY LAB.”

Stay tuned for Operation Glow-Up ✨

Read Part 3 >>> HERE <<<

[ghostf1ux]

The Gotham River is Not Your Friend

Day 13: Hypothermia

Word Count: 5.6k

TW/CWs: Medical inaccuracies probably

Part 1 (here) || Part 2

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

So, here's the thing.

All things considered, Jason would not have still been here if it weren't for Tim, his replacement (so to speak, they've long since gotten past that), who insisted he needed their help. Which isn't to say he wouldn't have been here at all, he just wouldn't have been here for this long.

It was just a simple job. Black Mask was getting a weapons shipment, and Jason planned to yoink it for his own operation. It was only three trucks, nothing he can't handle on a good night, and tonight was a good night!

But then him and fucking East End showed up in a cloud of smoke and mirrors or whatever the saying is, and everything was plunged into chaos.

“I said I had this handled–!” Jason hisses into the comm, simultaneously taking careful shots at any Mask goons he can see from his place in the support beams of the bridge connected mid and lower Gotham together.

“Intel says they have more explosives and people than you were planning for, so B sent us to step in, just in case it was a trap!” Tim retorts. Jason rolls his eyes at the red and black whirl of motion that's working on the outskirts of the crowd, jumping down just in time to land on someone who was about to get the drop on Tim.

“I've dealt with a lot more in a much worse condition,” Jason snaps, not even looking over to nail someone in the kneecap with a rubber bullet. “I don't need your fucking help, so back off.”

Tim's face twists into something incredulous, gesturing around wildly with his staff. “Not even B would go into something like this without backup! It's too risky, there's too many variables–”

“Oh yeah, like your inability to cover your own ass–”

“Yes, yes, girls, you're both pretty, can you focus back in on the actual fight?” Stephanie cuts them both off over comms, a smirk evident in her voice at how both brothers snap their mouths shut. “I'd like to get home at a reasonable time tonight.”

“Shoulda picked a different job then,” Jason snarks, pointedly shoving Tim out of his way with one finger before jumping back into the fight. Tim scoffs obnoxiously, but doesn't comment further than that.

“Or maybe I should've picked different coworkers. Oh wait.”

Tim makes a noise of offense while Jason just grins. Their comms dissolve into occasional banter while they mow down the groups of Black Mask goons, splitting up to speed up the task.

This works great until Tim decides to antagonize the second truck, which just so happens to apparently have more people with bigger guns than all the others. Jason is quick to hop in to help him, but their moment of actual strategic thought makes them both wary of getting close too quickly. Unfortunately, some of the ones from the third truck are peeling off to sandwich them, so they're kind of out of options.

“Shit, Spoiler needs help, you got this, Hood?”

Jason ponders this while taking shots at the goons, just barely missing getting grazed simply because of the sheer quantity of bullets he has to dodge. “Yeah, I got it. Go save your girlfriend or whatever. I'm taking off after this, got plans, so don't expect me to stick around.”

“Ex!” Steph shouts indignantly, loud enough that he can heat it even without the comm. He snickers, ducking behind the nearest cover he can find to let them unload their bullets.

“Yeah, whatever, just tie them up when you're done,” Tim sighs.

“Overrated. I'll just make it so they can't walk. Way easier.”

Tim sighs tiredly again, his exhaustion showing through despite his small age. And yes, it is a small age, it doesn't matter that he's only two years younger than Jason.

Regardless, it's his turn to sigh when the goons are still firing. “Alright, fuck this,” Jason mutters under his breath, pulling out a grenade and flicking the pin away before lobbing it over their heads, directly under the truck. At the same time he hops the bit of concrete he'd been using as cover and rushes in while they're distracted, cutting through as many as he can get through with his knives.

It's at this moment the grenade goes off, and the words more explosives than you planned for echo in his mind.

At first, there's a wave of heat. Then there's a sense of whistling wind outside his ringing ears, and maybe he's in the air? His feet aren't touching anything, but he can't see so who really knows. Distantly, he tries to breathe, and registers that he can't.

Huh.

That… that's not good, is it?

It's a distant thought, one that flits around in his mind before dissipating into nothing.

There's something else.

He's missing something.

What is he missing–

Jason's mouth opens in a silent scream as he's enveloped in something cold– no, cold doesn't even begin to describe it. It's sharp, stabbing, like a million knives are driving into his skin at every angle, digging into every pore and shredding through his muscle until it can chip away at the bone underneath. Whatever breath he had managed to get is gone in an instant when his back hits the icy chill and suddenly he's surrounded by it on all sides, pressing in on him and suddenly everything is screaming at him– 

Water.

Bridge.

Explosion.

Fuck.

Almost on autopilot, maybe something closer to instinct or desperate habit, Jason claws his way– up? Is he going up? He can't see, his vision is still filled with white spots and everything is so cold it just drags him down, down, down– 

Hands churn relentlessly through the way with a force that borders on impressive. He's insistent in his movements despite the way the icy tendrils of water pull at him, try to slow him down, the way they fill his mouth and his nose and fuck it's just like that night all over again and fuck why is this the third fucking time he's had to go through something like this– 

Gloved fingers claw and tear against the current and now his chest is starting to burn, it's so hot despite all the cold, it makes him so tired, so exhausted and he can't kick his legs, he can't make it easier, he's trying but he can't fucking move his legs– 

He bumps against something hard above him. He latches onto it with a death grip, pulling it towards him despite the obvious resistance and shoves it under his chest and suddenly he's gasping for air as he breaches the surface, coughing up what water made its way into his mouth. He drapes himself over the piece of wood he grabbed, heaving in wheezing breaths as he tries to regain some sense of an ability to breathe.

As soon as he has even close to the amount of breath needed, he screams. It's loud, he thinks, by the way his throat is raw and hurting afterwards, but it's hard to tell with everything else. The edge of the wood digs into his (probably cracked now) ribs, and each movement in the water, each little wave, sends stabs of burning agony up and down his spine. Probably has to do with whatever is preventing him from moving his legs.

It's probably important. 

Jason dismisses it for now.

The white spots flitting across and blocking his vision are starting to dissipate, though it's slow. He's able to make out an orange glow in the distance, and has some feeling of… recognition? To it. It's weird. There's something there. Something that matters. Something that– 

Jason whimpers– he allows himself the indignity, the moment of weakness, seeing as he's completely fucking alone– when a shiver rips through his body. There's a steady pulsing– his heartbeat– coming from his body and– 

Hm. Well, at least he's alive, because if his heartbeat wasn't coming from his body, then there would be some much bigger issues than whatever he's got going on right now.

He finds himself grinning at that, vaguely aware of how his teeth chatter together.

It's about the little things, like making yourself mentally laugh because the reality of the situation is that if you laughed out loud you'd probably scream. Again.

Squinting at the dark horizon, Jason is struck with the thought of wasn't that orange blob a lot bigger a moment ago?

But, like the rest of his thoughts in recent memory, it slips through his fingers like smoke. Or, to be more relatable to the situation at hand, the thoughts slip through his fingers like little blocks of ice that shatter at the impact of them hitting the ground.

Actually, that's super accurate, because Jason just did that! Minus the shattering. Maybe. He hopes.

Jason blinks slowly as he comes to the realization that his feet and hands are completely numb, and the sensation is crawling up his legs and arms. It doesn't help with the pain much, seeing as it isn't really in his hands or feet, but hey, maybe it'll help once it gets to his hips? Those things are causing him a world of pain right now and with how the bones and joints grind together in places they shouldn't be and it would just be really helpful– 

Oh.

Maybe that's why he can't move his legs. Maybe his hips are dislocated.

Some vaguely gruff voice grunts in the back of his mind and he sags into the wood, all the fight leaving him at once. Or maybe he already did that. He takes this as an agreement, and decides to move on before he gets the urge to scream again.

Time is a weird soup and Jason doesn't have the mental capacity to unpack all that right now.

His chest hurts, a lot, but not as bad as his hips. There's the general feeling of pain that's widespread throughout his body focused on his chest, sure, but there's also little pinpricks of pain that manage to male it through every so often when he isn't nearly blinded with everything else.

Ooh, and his face is wet. Like, a warm wet. Not a cold wet. Usually. His head is laid on his arms, folded over the broken and burned piece of wood– when did that happen? Who knows, because Jason certainly couldn't tell you– and sometimes the little waves come up and splash him, washing away that warm wet with the icy cold wet, but there's a consistent flow of the warmth regardless. His eye is closed because of it, he knows that, but he can't really tell what it is because every time he tries to think about it his head starts pounding and his chest constricts further somehow and his eyes start burning and fuck it hurts, it hurts so bad, everything fucking hurts please I need help– 

Yeah, no. Not touching that with a ten foot pole. It's easier to just… drift.

Drift, with the vague feeling of agony riddled in every fucking inch of him.

Drift, with the stabbing numbness crawling up his thighs and biceps now, and he knows he should do something about that but he just can't bring himself to fucking move– 

Drift, and just let it all float away. Let it all fade to the background. Just breathe, and feel the way his heartbeat pulses as his body tries to start healing itself or keep itself warm, listen to the incessant ringing in his ears, and– 

Wait.

Is someone calling his name?

“HOOD!?”

That feels like a name he's supposed to answer to. It sounds like someone's in trouble, or hurt, maybe?

“Oh shit, yeah, okay, um– I'll get you out of here, just gimme a sec, yeah? Yeah, okay, okay…”

He'll get right on that, oh scared citizen. Just… as soon as he can bring himself to unfreeze his limbs and move.

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

Man, fuck high school. Fuck English class specifically.

Duke groans as he lets his head fall back against the shitty bench he's sitting on, a dull thunk the only sound resonating from the action. It's fuckass early in the morning and he still isn't done with his damn essay that's due today. Only reason he's out here is so he can get a breather from staring at his screen all night, and hopefully stave off the headache that's been building for the past four hours.

The crisp spring breeze floats across Duke's face, partially hidden by the coat he's wearing to stay warm. As far as Gotham goes, it's actually a fairly decent temperature out, especially considering it's late March, but he doesn't feel like being cold for no reason so the heavy jacket it is.

And really, he just needed the fresh air. Which is an oxymoron because, once again, it's Gotham, but this is the closest he can get. This park right on the edge of the Narrows provides for a great backdrop to Duke's misery, scant trees and a small field serving as the foreground for the view into the Gotham River that splits middle and lower Gotham into its respective islands.

He sighs, slumping and gazing out into the river. In the distance, there's a plume of yellowy-orange that's slowly growing smaller. Must've been an explosion, no doubt one of the Bats. Probably Hood, if he's being honest. Based on what Duke's observed, he's the most likely one to cause an explosion by far, and the Narrows being his territory definitely doesn't protect it from that. Usually he's pretty careful about it though (honestly, to a level that's really impressive) so no one really minds all that much. Not like he's killing anymore, so he's probably gotta get his fix somehow.

Not that it matters much to Duke. It's not like he knows the guy, or any of the Flock for that matter. The most he's seen is the couple glimpses here and there, and what everybody's seen whenever they're on the news.

Regardless.

He's supposed to be relaxing for a bit, not thinking about all the rampant crime in the city he (unfortunately?) calls home.

Looking out over the river, he falls into an easy trance watching the little waves rippling out over the expansive surface. For once, it's not cloudy, so the moonlight reflects off the murky grey-brown-green water. Silvery white and red shines brightly against the dark background and– 

Wait.

Pause.

Roll that back.

Duke blinks a couple times, squinting. There shouldn't be red in the water. Nothing that shines that brightly anyways. If it were blood, it would be way darker and he probably wouldn't even be able to see it. If it were some kind of cloth, it wouldn't just be that speck of color, and it wouldn't be shiny.

He rubs his eyes again, standing up.

When he looks again, he can see a dark blob mostly in the water behind the little dot of red. A little dot of red that's slowly drifting closer.

That's–? No, it can't be…

Right?

Duke finds himself jogging down to the water's edge, following the red spots path and yep– yep that's definitely a helmet, a very memorable helmet, one that everyone in Gotham knows at this point, but one a kid from the Narrows especially knows.

It's at this point that Duke starts running towards the steps leading down to the concrete beach, as they like to call it. His gaze stays locked on Hood's helmet in fear of possibly losing him amongst the waves, doubtful as it is. He nearly trips over the bottom step in his race to get down there.

By the time he's scaled the larger concrete steps, or benches, that lead down to the ‘beach’ proper, Hood has drifted closer. Close enough to be in earshot, maybe?

“Hood!” Duke yells, cupping his lips to make the sound travel further. “Hood, can you hear me?!”

He doesn't stir, from what Duke can tell. Fuck, what if he's dead? How am I supposed to tell the Bats one of them is dead??

No. No. He isn't dead. Just… just knocked out? Yeah, just knocked out. Hopefully.

“Hood, can you hear me?!” Duke shouts again in some vain attempt to get some sign of life from the guy. “HOOD?!”

It's miniscule, but his head shifts, just enough for it to have been purposeful and not just the waves. Duke smiles, but his anxiety skyrockets. Okay, okay, so he's alive, but he's gotta be super injured for this to be his reaction to Duke yelling his name at the top of his lungs in the fucking Narrows. This has gotta be some new level of stupid, now everyone who might've heard him is gonna know Hood is out here, and if they were able to tell Duke's distress then they'll know he's hurt– 

No. Focus. Get him out of the water, deal with everything else later.

The frigid water laps at Duke's shoes as he gets closer, close enough that even from where the vigilante is at least fifteen yards out, he can see the blood shining on his face where a giant gash cuts through his helmet and the domino underneath, staining the white streak red. It looks like the domino might be cut through too, based on the sheer amount of blood that still steadily flows from the wound.

When he's finally close enough that Duke can get a better look at him, he can feel his heart drop out of his chest at the man's state, at least what little he can see. There are tears in his jacket and armor where he can see all the way through to skin, and the fabric is singed, charred in some places, mostly around his shoulder and arm. His breaths are slow, shallow, wheezing things that make Duke's gut twist in worry.

“Oh shit, yeah, okay, um– I'll get you out of here, just gimme a sec, yeah? Yeah, okay, okay…” Duke's hands flutter uselessly as he decides what to do. There's a vigilante– and not just any vigilante, the fucking Red Hood– washing up practically dead on the southwest beach of the Narrows, coming from some mission gone wrong, and if he's right about the general amount of time he's spent in the water, he highly doubts the rest of his Flock knows something's wrong, and that's not even considering Hood's trademarked independence from them all (which has gotten better in recent history as far as he knows, but it's definitely still a thing).

Long story short: this is a side of Hood that no one outside his family should be seeing and he doesn't know what to do.

“Okay, okay, one thing at a time. Get him out of the water, someplace safe and preferably warm,” Duke mutters to himself. Hood is freezing to the touch, and it's no wonder the man is practically vibrating with shivers. He manages to work his arms underneath Hood's and gently– well, as gentle as he can be with someone who's way too big and way too fucking heavy– lifts him and starts dragging him out of range of the waves. His head lolls and his body stays limp, like a doll with its strings cut (and what a comforting thought that is), but his chest stutters over every inhale and is shaking in every exhale. At this angle, he can't see Hood's face, but he wouldn't be surprised to find it screwed up in pain due to whatever injuries Duke can't see.

Unfortunately for him, he isn't nearly strong enough to fully lift the– he must be pushing 300 pounds, right? There's no way he's less than 250– vigilante so he'll just have to deal with it until Duke can get him to someplace he can actually lay down.

Thankfully, even with Duke being careful, he's able to drag the man over to a shadowed corner of the concrete bench steps, where the overhang of a tree and a nearby building blot out most of the little nook, making it easy for eyes to pass over dark shapes huddled in it. It also shields against most of the breeze coming in, which is a plus.

As carefully as he can, he manages to shimmy Hood into the little nook after getting his waterlogged jacket off. He looks up at Duke with foggy, unfocused eyes that seem to drift in a haze, but still manage to convey his wariness. Duke holds his hands up placatingly.

“I'm not gonna, uh, hurt you. Don't worry. Figured you didn't want to be left in the water.” He pauses, watching Hood's half-lidded and (slightly glowing?? What the fuck???) teal-green gaze slides over him, which is, frankly, terrifying. He may have not killed in awhile but Duke still remembers the time when this was the guy who was running around Crime Alley putting heads in duffel bags.

But it doesn’t look like he’s planning to do anything like that, seeing as his exhausted gaze then settles on a point in the middle distance. 

Duke lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “Okay, so um. I know you're like, injured? But how am I supposed to contact the Bats so they can pick you up? Because, uh, you're the only one that ever comes here.”

Hood's brow furrows at that, a little bit of clarity returning to his eyes. His hands painstakingly slowly drift up to his broken helmet, fingers fumbling with the back of it. Well, that's an exaggeration. His fingers aren't even moving, despite how much he's clearly trying to move them.

“Can you– can you tell me how to take it off? I don't think you're gonna be able to feel your fingers for a while,” Duke explains. Something like defeat crosses Hood's expression, but he relents.

“‘S– ‘s th’ ‘ne–” His words slur together, sounding oddly vulnerable without the voice modulator making everything sound like a menacing drawl. He breathes out a slow, measured breath before continuing. “It's– th’ one up t'p.”

The words are still slurred together, but this time Duke can actually make them out and follow the directions. He waits patiently (considering the circumstances) for the rest of Hood's instructions, breathing out a sigh of relief when the helmet latches unlock and he can work it off the vigilante's head.

Of course, that's immediately washed over with a wave of concern when his whole face is revealed to be nearly covered in blood from the gash across the side of his face the helmet was broken on. Now that he can see both eyes, he can see the pain– no, agony hidden behind that foggy exterior. Based on the constant shivering that wracks his body, Duke would guess that it's irritating whatever injuries are under his suit and making everything worse.

Unfortunately, there's nothing Duke can do about that without Hood taking off his suit, and that sure as shit ain't happening.

What he can do is help him take off the most outer layers he doesn't need right now and drape his coat over him to block out more of the wind and hopefully help him retain some body heat.

“Okay, what am I supposed to do with this?” Duke asks once Hood's a little more situated, holding up the helmet for emphasis.

“Put ‘t on,” Hood murmurs hoarsely. Seriously, what had this guy been doing, gargling broken glass? “B'tt'n ‘n ear.”

Translating that as best he can, Duke slides the helmet on (which is way too big and frankly disgusting due to river water and blood but that's not really the point right now) and taps the button as instructed. A speaker clicks to life, but all there is is crackling static that's slowly fizzling out.

“It's just static. I think your comm might be broken, dude,” Duke informs him helpfully, setting the helmet beside him but under his coat. The ghost of a sardonic smile tugs at the corner of Hood's lips and there's a sharp exhale of breath that might've been a laugh before his blood-covered jaw is clenching and his scant breaths are careful, measured, and cautious. 

This leaves Duke with his thoughts, which are steadily picking up speed as he flips through possibilities. Hood's comm is out, which means there's no way to contact his team that way. Anything else he might’ve had is clearly damaged too much to use, or he would've used it already, and even if it wasn't, he's too far off mentally to answer any questions Duke could ask.

Alright then, time for other methods. How do you get a Bat's attention?

Well, the obvious answer is crime. Issue with that is, Hood's the one who patrols the Narrows. So would that even work? Who would see it?

Duke gasps as he comes to the realization. Oracle! She watches the cameras across the city! Surely if I do something in front of one, then she'll see it and I can get a message across somehow?

He nods to himself, gathering up Hood's ripped-to-shreds leather jacket and folding it over his arm so the red bat symbol is hidden.

“Okay, Hood, I've got a plan, I'll be right back. Just like– stay here, I guess. I'm gonna find a way to talk to Oracle, so she can call your family, or team, or whatever.” 

Everyone knows they're a family, but again, Hood's whole independence thing makes Duke double-guess referring to them as such in front of him though.

Hood just lazily trails his gaze over to fix Duke with a stare, so distanced yet so heavy that despite his condition he's sure the man will hunt him down if he breaks his word. 

Duke just nods again and backs away, racing off to the nearest closed convenience store in the area.

This late at night, it's not hard to find one. He grabs a broken pipe from the alley nearby and smashes the front door in, wincing in preparation for an alarm. Nothing rings out, the night stays just as quiet as it was before.

Yeah, no shit, Duke. It's the fucking Narrows, no one uses alarms here.

He squints at the corners where the wall meets the ceiling, and the ceiling itself for cameras. Speedwalking through the aisles in his search, he pauses when he finds a shitty first aid kit. He grabs it.

The slight noise of mechanical whirring makes Duke's head snap towards the noise. A camera– one of those old, shitty ones– perched right above the doorway slowly turns to face him, to stare right at him, bore into his fucking soul– 

Duke smiles a hysterical smile and runs up to it. The lens follows his movement, zooming out when he's right below it.

“H- Hello? I don't know if you can hear me, Oracle– God, I hope I'm actually talking to Oracle and not just the guy that owns this place– Hood is injured! I found him and hid him somewhere safe, for now, but he's not doing great, so if you could like… send someone to pick him up? I don't know. But I really can't do much for him with the condition he's in?” He holds up the red bat on the jacket and points at the first aid kit, trying to convey the urgency of the situation. “So um– yeah! Please help!”

With that, and a little more gesturing, he runs back to the park with the jacket and the first aid kit, skidding across the grass until he hits the concrete steps. He lets his steps slow as he approaches, trying to avoid startling the infamously trigger-happy vigilante that's hopefully still sheltering in the shadow of that little concrete nook.

Looking around the corner, he's still there, but he's almost entirely bowed as far into the corner as he can get, as if he's trying to hide in it by curling up as tight as he can and becoming part of the shadows. It's… it's a level of vulnerability Duke isn't really comfortable seeing one of the Bats in. It's a stark, painfully clear reminder that the Bats and Birds, as tough as they are, are still probably human.

Although Hood's possibly glowing eyes from earlier might single-handedly disprove that belief. 

Duke pauses a few paces away from the man's curled up (thankfully still shivering) form. The shivers are small, though, the main movement being the shallow rising and falling of his chest and slightly shaking shoulders. His legs are still splayed out awkwardly, despite the way the rest of his body is curled in and shifted onto his side.

Fuck, that's probably not good. The lack of shivering is also probably not good.

Duke sits, half kneeling, and sets the first aid kit down beside him. “Hood? That gash on your face was bleeding a lot when I left, I was hoping you'd let me put some bandages on it?”

Hood flinches, slowly turning his head to look up at Duke. There's definitely a dim glow to his eyes, but they're foggier than before.

Another tally in the “probably not good” box.

“Y'r b'ck,” Hood grunts, just barely loud enough for Duke to hear. 

He nods, opening the kit. “Yeah, said I'd be back. I think Oracle saw me, so hopefully someone is on their way.”

Hood hums, looking slowly between the bandages in Duke's hands and Duke himself before nodding and turning his face up enough that he can put bandages on.

“I'll try to clean it, and it's probably gonna hurt, but hey, at least it'll keep you awake,” Duke jokes halfheartedly, already finding the saline and clean towel from the kit to dab at the massive cut with. Past his opposite eyebrow twitching, Hood doesn't show any reaction to Duke's actions. Just gazing off into the distance, clearly trying his hardest not to pay attention any more than is absolutely needed.

It's just as Duke is securing the gauze pads to the gouge that he hears voices drifting across the wind, coming from the park. Hood seems to zone back in as well, tensing and glancing quickly around.

“I'll go check it out, it might be them,” Duke whispers, trying to reassure him. He only furrows a brow, but doesn't try– or rather, probably can't try– to stop him.

He, as quietly as he can, sneaks over to the top of the concrete bench stairs, scanning the park for the source of the voices. His eyes land on two shadows around the edge of it that seem to be bickering? He sees red and black on one of them, and purple on the other. He can't make out what they're saying at this distance, but their walk looks strange. Less like a walk, more like they're gliding along.

Or like capes are obscuring their legs.

Duke grins, jumping up and running over to them. It becomes very apparent very quickly that the two forms are Red Robin and Spoiler. Both become guarded and suspicious when Duke approaches, but he stays a respectable distance away.

“Hood's over here, there wasn't anywhere else I could get him to since he can't walk,” Duke explains, running back to the nook with them.

“Why can't he walk?” Red Robin asks quickly. Duke shrugs.

“I don't know, man. I just know I had to drag his heavy ass over here and he hasn't moved, really.”

Spoiler swears when she rounds the corner, kneeling beside Hood's head and moving it into her lap.

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

“Oi, Alley, you in there?”

Jason grunts a vague affirmative, weakly glaring up at her through the haze of pain clouding his vision. Steph smiles, carding a gloved hand through his hair while being careful to avoid the bandages on his face. It's strained, but it's not like anyone can see that behind the half mask she wears. 

“B's en route,” Tim announces, stopping beside the two of them. He glances back at the kid who led them here. “Thanks for pulling him out. We've got him from here.”

“Yeah, just– I don't know how long he was in the water for, and I don't think he's shivering as much as he used to be. And he's got pieces of metal or something stuck in him. Just be careful?”

“We will,” Tim assures. The kid nods and walks off, wringing his hands nervously. Steph doesn't pay him much attention, trusting Tim to keep watch until he leaves. Only then does he kneel beside Jason as well, gently feeling around for his injuries. It's easy to tell when he finds them, seeing as Jason's too exhausted to keep his face under control now.

“Dislocated hips, injured ribs, but I can't tell how bad or how many with his armor in the way. Definitely hypothermia, heart rate and breathing is slow and wheezing,” Tim reports. “Scattered shrapnel from the explosion, doesn't seem like it hit anything vital.”

“Keep him awake, ETA one minute,” Batman responds.

“Robin and I will be heading back shortly,” Dick cuts in. “Don't look at me like that, this is prime family cuddle pile time.”

Cass hums an agreement. “Will prepare theater.”

“See, she gets it. Cmon, babybat. Time to skeddadle.”

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

The rest of the night is spent with Jason at the center of the family cuddle pile, much to his chagrin once he wakes up. Tim and Bruce berate him for his recklessness, he deflects, the cycle continues.

In the end, though, he gets his allotted family cuddle pile time and isn't even upset in the moment because he's (figuratively) dead to the world.

Bruce doesn't much appreciate the joke when Steph makes it.

[maxdibert]

Muggles don’t have much chances against wizards I believe. Their only advantage is numbers. (That’s why full out war would hurt both wizards and muggles) Wizards have been dealing with Muggles (how to hide from them) for centuries, they must be knowledgeable of muggle technology. They also lived during both muggle wars so they must be aware of the weapons. The fact they managaed to hide their whole community from them for so long and continue managing to do despite increasing muggle technology proves that magic is strong enough and theres probably even magic that serves against nuclear power already.

Canonically, some wizards don’t even know what electricity is or how it works. Arthur is supposed to work in a department dedicated to Muggles, and he doesn’t even know what a rubber duck is for. Throughout the series, it’s implied that wizards live in a parallel reality. If it were established that wizards were interested in Muggles, observing them and keeping up with their advancements, they would obviously have a considerable advantage over them—not only because of magic but also because of their knowledge of Muggles, how their societies operate, and their technology. But as it’s implied, that’s not the case.

The first rule for winning a war is to know your enemy as well as you know yourself, but above all, not to underestimate them, and wizards see Muggles as little more than animals with reasoning. I think Muggles would have quite a few chances because they would take the enemy much more seriously, and the fact that wizards underestimate them would be a big point against them.

Also, Muggles spend their lives fighting wars. The Second Wizarding War is just another Tuesday in the war madness of the Muggles—literally, during the time Voldemort resurged in the ’90s, there were about eight or nine active wars and several in Europe, lol.

[sepublic]

So disappointed to hear the newest Batman show is doing yet another edgy twisted Joker. Like it’s so old it’s so boring it’s so dumb, and worst of all it’s faux-deep because none of his Society ramblings are actual criticisms, nor is his character one. You know what’d actually be fun and subversive at this point? A version of Joker that’s actually funny. A Joker who’s actually a joke villain and not just trying to be the darkest version yet.

It’s a Joker who performs the strangest crimes that aren’t really that big a deal, especially not compared to other criminals. So flooding the docks with a bunch of rubber ducks. But it’s technically a crime and it’s a slow night so Batman decides to deal with it.

Give me a Joker who’s genuinely just doing this for fun. While other Batman villains are serious or operate on some pathos or logic, the Joker’s just a dude who’s simple and knows what he wants, and it’s just straight up gags. He does rob a bank with clown henchman but they’re actual clowns doing funny little gags the whole time:

The Joker is so genuinely unserious and it embarrasses Batman because he wants to brood deep down but then gets deflated each time; Joker’s the only villain to legitimately get under Batman’s skin for how he roasts him, he’s like Spider-Man even. The other villains are baffled by this man, and the only thing the Joker’s brutally murdering is the otherwise dark, played completely straight tone he’s knocked over like some bowling pins.

It gets to a point where it’s revealed that the Joker could be really devastating if he truly wanted to be; It turns out he knows who Batman is, he leaves a prank for him in the Batcave. But he just never does anything with it because that’s like killing the other player in a video game. He’s here to have fun, he’s not a rage quitter. He’s operating on Roger Rabbit rules where Joker can only do something if it’s funny, so he’s not going to kill Batman in his sleep because there’s no fun in that.

There’s a surprising moment of pathos where Batman has hit a low point and it’s the Joker of all people who comes in to cheer him up, make him laugh and say you’ve got this Batman! You’ve proven to everyone you can! And Batman’s like You’re right Joker. I do have it. Thanks! And Joker’s like Sure thing Pal, can’t have my best playmate being bummed out. And then he just leaves.

I need their dynamic to reach a point where it’s like this video. Batman can’t understand a joke and assumes it must be operating on five different layers of irony for him to Not Get It and he needs a master of comedy to solve it, he’s treating it like one of Nygma’s riddles and Joker’s just like. Actually this is a very simple joke Bats you’re just literal. Batman would say he’s come for a battle of wits only for the Joker to be unarmed, and Joker says his momma sucked him good and hard through his jorts because he’s a peak troll.

Would this type of Joker border on Sexyman bait? Maybe. But it’d be far preferable to the inundation of Edgy Joker we keep getting. Let’s play Joker completely straight. Make him The Lego Batman Movie incarnation. Or The Brave and the Bold; Just because there’s two instances doesn’t change the fact that there’s only two instances. He sees the other Jokers and is baffled, Why so serious but it’s genuine. He would love it if Terry responded to his banter.

[haileyb444]

Operation: Glitterstrike

Pairing: Jake Peralta x Valentina Reyes (fem oc)

Summary: Valentina Reyes—brilliant, beautiful, chaotic neutral—is the only person at the Nine-Nine who can beat Jake Peralta at his own game: pranks. Their long-running, low-stakes prank war takes an unexpected turn when Jake realizes he might be falling in love with his rival.

It started with a Post-it.

Just one.

On Jake’s desk. In Valentina’s handwriting.

It said:

“Nice try moving my chair. I switched it back. And also glued your drawer shut. Love, V.”

Jake’s eye twitched.

He liked her. Of course he did. She was criminally hot, stupidly smart, and had once beaten Terry at sudoku. But she had crossed a line.

Nobody messed with his drawer snacks.

The prank war escalated quickly.

Week 1: Jake swapped out Valentina’s shampoo for glitter-filled slime. She retaliated by putting rainbow dye tabs in his laundry and giving him “unicorn cop” energy for a week.

Week 2: He filled her locker with 200 rubber ducks. She programmed his phone to only respond to her voice and call him “Detective Sad Pants.”

Week 3: He sent her a fake memo saying Holt wanted a full presentation on “The Psychological Evolution of the Nine-Nine’s Cactus.” She gave said presentation, complete with slideshow, and earned Holt’s praise for her “innovative engagement style.”

It should have been annoying.

But Jake… kind of lived for it.

The way she smirked before retaliating. How her eyes sparkled when she sprung a trap. The way she could keep a straight face while orchestrating full-scale chaos.

She was mayhem wrapped in silk and spreadsheets. And Jake was obsessed.

The realization hit him sometime around the moment he sat in his chair and it loudly meowed—Valentina had installed a speaker under the cushion—and instead of being mad, he laughed.

He laughed like a man totally and irreversibly gone.

It came to a head during the precinct’s annual prank-free zone day.

Jake broke it first.

He rigged the breakroom door to trigger a balloon avalanche. A rookie opened it. Holt got hit. Everyone froze.

Except Valentina.

She slow-clapped. “Took you long enough.”

Jake blinked. “I thought you were going to prank me today.”

“I did,” she said.

“Where?”

Valentina took a step closer, leaned in, and whispered, “I told Holt everything you’ve done the last three weeks. I’m the reason you’re suspended for balloon-related misconduct.”

Jake stared.

Then she grinned. “Just kidding. You should see your face.”

Jake’s mouth opened, closed, then—

He kissed her.

Right there in the breakroom. Covered in bits of deflated balloons and vengeance.

She didn’t hesitate. Just kissed him back like it had been a long time coming.

When they pulled apart, Jake smirked. “So… prank war over?”

Valentina brushed glitter from his hair. “Please. That was foreplay.”

[stardestroyer81]

SLN-005: Hydro Man

Height: 6′11" Special Weapon: Hydro Burst Good Point: Kindhearted Bad Point: Naïve Hydro Man, as evident by his aquatic vats and domes present all throughout his exterior, was once a robot that oversaw operations at a large water filtration facility before being recruited into the Synth Legion. He is capable of storing three hundred gallons of water at any given time and can shoot pressurized water out of his arm cannon at two hundred and fifty pounds per square inch. In spite of his towering exterior, Hydro Man is infamously regarded as "the pacifist" of the Synth Legion, only joining in the first place to turn the water filtration facility he operated in into his own personal water park. He is a big fan of all things sanitation, to the point of having multiple bath times a day with his good friend Mr. Ducky, a rubber duck.

[finch-velutina]

Gomu Gomu No Mi Analysis/Headcanons: The Neurodivergency of Devil Fruits:

(tl;dr: Luffy is an absolute weirdo and I love him SO much)

Luffy is neurodivergent, this much is obvious. However, Luffy is also someone who has eaten a fruit at a very young age, which also affects the way he sees the world and interacts with it. I personally believe that Luffy is neurodivergent not just in mind but in body, and I absolutely love to think about how the Gomu Gomu no Mi affects Luffy both physically and mentally.

[Spoiler warning for up to Dressrosa because gear 4 is discussed ]

Luffy and Blunt Damage: He's Just Built Different

One of the most obvious examples of how Luffy's fruit affects how he views the world is how he treats other people in regards to blunt damage. Blunt damage is a Thing That Happens to Other People to him, and as such he has trouble remembering it exists. When he Gomu Gomu no Rockets his nakama into things he apologizes after it happens, like he didn't think it would hurt them.

Because blunt damage is a type of fall damage, Luffy also doesn't understand how far a normal human can fall. My absolute favorite canon example of this is from the Arlong fight, where Luffy "swaps places" with Zoro by hurling him ten feet in the air while severely wounded.

Instincts (the stretchy kind)

Related to this, I don't think Luffy can get vertigo because he has no instinctual reaction to heights whatsoever. We saw him fall off a cliff in Syrup Village without even waking up. His first name may be Monkey but there is nothing monkeylike about not waking up from Oops Fell From Thing. His instincts literally work in a very different way, which is so interesting to me.

Another example of how Luffy's instincts work in strange and delightful ways is from this tiny 2 second bit in the Davy Back Fight arc. Any normal human would have ducked when seeing something fast coming towards their head. Not Luffy though. He physically pulls his head out of the way. There's nothing natural about that reflex and it just shows how much Luffy's fruit is intrinsic to his being!

[ID: Screenshot of Luffy in the Davy Back/Long Ring Long Island arc avoiding a spiked ball by holding his head an arms' length away from his shoulders ]

Being rubber, which is an insulator, has affected his temperature perception. In alabasta he mostly complains about being thirsty, not hot, and always has delayed reactions to things he touches being hot or the climate being cold, like on Drum Island. (This is one of my favorite examples of how luffy's neurodivergency interacts with his Fruit because his poor interoception is both a mental and a physical thing).

Gears

Now it's time for even more analysis of how the Gomu Gomu no Mi works! Time for the Gears. A Gear is not, like, a state of mind in the same way Luffy being a Rubber Human is, but it's part of luffy's loveable weirdness, so I'm including my theories/headcanons on them too.

Gear Second: I think this makes it hard for him to walk, because he is moving very fast, which makes his bones looser and more rubbery.

Gear Third: The main operating principle of this is Luffy inflating his bones. What happens to the non-inflated parts of his arm like the muscles? Obviously they have to stretch and are put under a lot of strain, which is something I think is part of him becoming tiny after. This would also explain how getting stronger during the timeskip caused the shrinking to stop happening - his muscles are stronger and more resistant.

Gear Fourth! This is the first gear to affect Luffy's entire body. It's explicitly stated that Luffy gets so bouncy in this form he can't stand still or walk very well, which delights me. In gear 4, Luffy inflates his muscles, and the bones are now the part stretching. They're more resistant to stretching than inflating, which makes moving hard, doubly so because his muscles are huge and less precise. (Sidenote - this is different from a standard Pistol bone stretch because those recoil right back into place without being held stretched for long periods of time). This is why he can do that accordion fold in with the muscles that brings that concussive force like in Kong Gun - his bones naturally want to scrunch the muscles back to release the pressure on the bone.

How are his lungs affected by this form? His lungs are extremely important to his forms because gear second, the basis of them, pumps blood very fast and needs more airflow. The lungs are surrounded by both muscle (inflating) and bone (stretching) so the tension between those two seems like it would put a weird strain on the lungs. I think some sort of lung inflation like in Gomu Gomu no Fuusen is necessary, if only so that Luffy can get enough air.

[amenders93]

The Gang Go In

Molly didn't know that Ginger, all her chicken aunts and grandpa, and her two favorite rodent uncles were just outside the farm. And now the rescue gang had made an incredibly clever plan to blast their way inside and get her home safe and sound. After much discussion, a few arguments, a lot of equipment being packed and even the baking of a large, iced cake, the gang was finally ready. Our Wing Leader Ginger announces to her group that it's go time; dimwitted Wool Specialist Babs makes a comic reply that to relieve Ginger that she went before they left. Not that kind of 'go', Babs 🤣.

Phase 1 of the plan contained the element of surprise 😲. Ginger, Mac, Bunty and Babs hid behind the bushes and placed the iced cake on top of a clockwork trolley. The trolley was sent trundling up to the entrance gate. A patrolling guard noticed the trolley with the cake coming towards the gate and came up for a closer look. After the guard took one taste of the cake and blew out the candle, Ginger burst out the cake and handcuffed the guard to a bundle of fireworks. You heard of the Trojan Horse 🐴. Here's a Trojan Cake 🎂. The guard was dragged by the fireworks into the wooded area and slammed into a tree. Bunty cut the chain from the guard's wrist and the fireworks flew up into the air, exploding into a beautiful colorful display. The fireworks distracted another guard inside the facility who was in charge of the security cameras and screens.

Phase 2 of the operation was taking place overhead - the aerial invasion 🎈☁️. This was one of Fowler's specialties from his RAF days. After all, Fowler was the one who piloted the flying machine during the chickens' dramatic escape from Tweedy's Farm. Now he was flying something different - a balloon covered in cotton wool, disguised as a cloud. Fowler, Nick and Fetcher pedaled the balloon-cloud madly over the electric fence. As they floated along, they unwound a fishing line that they had attached to a tree outside. The crack team of cloud-pedallers landed on a security camera and Nick got out a Polaroid camera, taking a picture of the wooded area. It instantly printed out and Fetcher placed it in front of the camera lens. Now when the guard looked at the security screen, everything would look completely normal. The only problem was Fetcher had the photo the wrong way round. The guard stared at the screen in amazement and tapped it. Nick pointed out to Fetcher about the photo being upside down; Fetcher moved fast and turned it the right way up. The guard was happy again.

Ginger watched the whole thing down below. As soon as the picture was mounted, she signaled to the rest of the gang and they all rushed to the electric fence. Bunty pushed a rubber ring under the fence and pumped it up, opening up a chicken-sized gap. Ginger rushed them all through. She was the last one to dive under, then she punctured the ring to cover their tracks.

Next was Phase 3 - the underwater mission to cross the moat without being detected 🌊. The girls pulled on their scuba gear and did what the proper divers do - fall backwards into the water. Babs, however, didn't get it quite right. She fell backwards but in the wrong direction, landing on the bank instead 🤦‍♀️. A guard came past and almost spotted her, but the other chickens pulled Babs under the water in the nick of time. Together the girls swam underwater, avoiding the exploding robot ducks with laser eyes. Once out of the water on the other side of the moat, Mac and Bunty threw a grappling hook made from a coat hanger over a wall. Attached to the hook was a pair of elastic trouser braces. The chickens stretched the braces as far as they could and used them as a catapult to fling each of them over the wall. Everyone landed safely inside and hid behind a pillar. At the doorway, a guard was using the eye scanner to enter the building. Ginger watched him go inside, then led the way, skillfully parkouring to the doorway. The gang followed her, as stealthily as they could, across the courtyard.

Now Nick and Fetcher needed to take a photo for the eye scanner. They grabbed the camera and jumped out of the balloon, using an open umbrella as a parachute. They made a graceful landing right on the ground. Nick commented that it was a perfect landing, right on the button. On hearing the word "button", a confused Fetcher obediently pushed the umbrella button which snapped the umbrella shut on them both. The two blind rats stumbled around the courtyard, trying to get the closed umbrella off. Behind them a mechanical slot opened up and sucked the rats inside, just like what happened to Rocky the night before, leaving the camera on the ground in plain sight. Looks like the plan will have to be improvised.

Along came Mac and Ginger, their backs pressed against the wall. Mac saw the camera lying on the ground. Ginger dashed into the open courtyard and grabbed the camera just before a guard came around a corner. This was Ginger's chance! She hid in the shadows and whistled as the guard passed her. The guard stopped and peered into the darkness. Ginger took a flash picture of the guard's staring eyes, almost blinding him with the light and leaving him stumbling around. Ginger ran to the door and gave the photo to Mac. Mac fixed the photo to the end of an extendable tape measure and hoisted it up the reach the eye scanner.

Inside, the door guard looked at the eye picture through the scanner and checked it against her file labelled Staff Eye Pad. When she found the particular guard with the correct retina, she satisfyingly press a button to release the door and the chicken gang rushed in, too short for the camera to spot. The door guard looked puzzled; where was the guard? She went to the door and looked outside. Behind her, the gang sneaked through and hid behind as many cleaning supplies as they could carry. Finally, they had made it inside! 😄

Only Fowler was still outside. After Nick and Fetcher had floated down on the umbrella, the old sausage had continued to drift along in the cloud-balloon talking to himself. The balloon knocked against the mast where Fowler then attached it and landed. Our elderly rooster comments how this was a textbook landing. He steps onto the roof and spotting a nearby snail, settles down for a nice chat. Here we go again. More RAF stories from our favorite retired leading rooster 😒. What he doesn't see is that snail is trying to inch away from him while he goes on rambling 🐌.