#that came here to help him start to die and he doesn’t even notice that the child he came here to save is already gone.

[quietwingsinthesky]

(i do try not to think about that episode so much because it does annoy me greatly that it’s this build up of. everyone around the doctor loves him so much they’d risk destroying time itself to save his life. river resists shooting him, amy puts together pieces of him in her head enough to want to help him across reality breaking, and at the end, the whole of time and space hears someone say “the doctor needs help!” and they come to answer. because that’s the good he puts out into the universe. people will come. if he just asks, they’ll come.

and then the episode turns around and goes, ‘yeah, anyway, river’s an idiot for doing all this dramatic shit to save him lol. the doctor had a plan all along to save himself. he doesn’t need anyone’s help.’ like THEN WHAT WAS THE POINT. OF EVERYONE WHO CAME. TO HELP HIM. WHY DID WE BOTHER WITH ANY OF THIS.)

[countlessimagines]

Downfall [ Five Hargreeves x Reader ]

Summary: No matter the timeline, you and Five never get your chance.

A/N: well I think I can agree with everyone that season four was not good… so my way of coping is making angsty imagines for it… I’m trying to cope with the fact this is the last time we will ever see them ): This is also super short, apologies

Warnings: Season Four Spoilers

MASTERLIST LINK

-

Five had seen multiple timelines with Lila throughout their time spent together. And in almost every single one they saw, you were dead by the hands of him or vice versa. Eventually it became normal to see you mourning Five or him taking revenge for you.

Lila could see how distressing it was for him to see every timeline play out the same for the both of you.

Fate never seemed to be on your side, and even in your timeline, Five never had the courage to tell you his feelings. Despite spending six years by his side, being his roommate, helping him with cases, being there emotionally for him… he never seemed to catch on to the fact that you held feelings for him, too.

On one of their multiple train rides, Lila tried to address what the two of you meant to each other, but Five didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Because he feared the moment he’d open up, fate would play it’s cruel trick again and guarantee he would never see you again.

So he buried it deep within himself so it would not haunt him.

-

For you, it was mere hours you had last seen Five. You had helped Allison and Claire rescue Klaus from being buried alive, and had found your way to Lila and Diego’s home.

Everything seemed to be alright, and although you could sense something was wrong with Five, you didn’t have the energy to ask, simply from the long day you were all having.

However, you didn’t fail to notice the looks Lila and Five were sharing. It made not only you suspicious, but Diego as well. It was started to grow more and more tense as he pried information from them.

It almost felt as if your heart was being ripped out of your chest, being stomped on by the universe, as Five and Lila confessed of their infidelity.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to console Diego or slap Five.

You decided on the latter before storming out of the house. Diego tried to stop Five from chasing after you, but Five was quicker and blinked to your side.

“Let me explain.”

“Get away from me!” You screamed as you exited the house. Nobody followed the two of you, so you only assumed Lila was in the hot seat.

“(Y/n)! Stop acting like a child and listen.” Five grabbed your arm and whipped you around to face him. He was close now, his breath fanning your face.

“How could I listen to the fact you and Lila shared such an intimate relationship while I have been waiting years for you to do the same with me.” You made sure to throw your words in his face, making all of your emotions clear as day. Pretending to not hold feelings for him was beginning to weigh you down, so you needed to let go of those weights now.

“All we did was kiss,” Five said it like it was the most simple action in the world. “One kiss and we realized our mistake immediately. We got wrapped up in our own little bubble and forgot the important things. I just… I couldn’t handle seeing you die anymore…”

“What?” You pushed away from him. Had he seen a timeline with you dead?

“I… we don’t get a happy ending in any timelines. No matter what we do, we fail to be together.” Five sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I lost hope that even if we got back, it would lead to our demise.”

You didn’t know what to say to him as your heart began to beat uncontrollably.

He looked into your tear filled eyes and said, “I want to be with you, but I don’t want to kill you.”

“I don’t want to be with someone who, after forty years in the apocalypse, couldn’t even keep his heart on one person for seven years. It doesn’t matter if you realized your mistake, Five. I’ve been here the whole time waiting for you. I took care of you when you came home bloodied. I stayed up with you while you had panic attacks. I made sure that you had coffee brewed every morning.”

Five felt ashamed he had let everything you had done for him go to waste with his one mistake. “I don’t expect you to forgive me.”

“Maybe I’ll be the bigger person and actually forgive you, because I know deep inside I am that person. And I for sure know you aren’t because you kissed your brother’s wife, Five.” You scoffed and wiped away your tears. “Good luck with that.”

You began to walk towards your car without another word, and Five just watched as you left.

He was smart enough to know that if he chased you, it would lead to a grave.

And not too long after, he would sacrifice himself with his family, his last thoughts only consisted of you and how much he failed your relationship. Some selfish part of him hoped that he’d come back, to be able to see you again.

But the more rational side of him knew that he would never touch you again.

Because for once, you would be able to live in a peaceful timeline without him there to cause your downfall.

[indulgentdaydream]

protective!jason hcs or blurb 🥰

Ok so I kinda touched on these in my latest fic but anyways i WILL elaborate bc those were just background

We all know that man is touch starved. We ALL know it.

We also all know he’s hesitant with sharing touch

It’s only once you both have been dating for a bit already, maybe three months in, that he really starts to show his protectiveness through his touch

Or at least when you notice it

He’s always at least holding your hand as you guys walk around Gotham. Depending on exactly whereabouts in Gotham is when he changes whether he’s between you and the road, or you and the alleyways.

You watched him change it up one time halfway through your shared walk, him letting go of your left hand, stepping behind you and around to grab your right instead.

“Oh? So you want me to get hit by a car and die?”

Jason only keeps his eyes on the passing buildings and the ones coming up, “The chance of that is much lower than somebody trying to mug you in this area, love.”

One day you’re both out at the bar together. He’s sitting on a stool behind you as you babble to oke of yours friends.

From over their shoulder, you see a man approaching, but don’t think anything of it.

Suddenly, you see the man stop in his tracks, freezing. You glance over at him. He looks terrified. He glances at you, his original target, then behind you again. He spins on his heel and walks back the way he came.

You look behind you, feeling Jason’s hand still resting on your hip. You almost feel a little scared yourself, seeing that killer glare that Jason’s pointing at the guy’s back.

He switches immediately the second he looks down to you, a soft smile and kind eyes, not a hint of the previous bloodlust a mere second ago. “What?” He asks, like watching his expression change wasn’t the biggest turn on in the world.

You’re sitting in your apartment at your desk typing away on your laptop. You’re trying to file your taxes, and Jason had come over to help you with it (surprisingly he knows how even though he’s still legally dead at this point and hasn’t had to pay any taxes. Ever.)

He had stood and was wondering around your room a bit while he waited for you to fill the next part out. You can hear shuffling, but you’re too focused to tune into it.

“Jay? What does this line mean?”

Jason grunts for a moment and you hear your window slide open.

You turn back around, “Jay?”

“One second.” He shuts your window again. You watch as he fiddles with the lock before easily sliding the window back open. He throws his hands in the air and looks at you. “How long have you lived here?”

You shrug, confused, “You helped me move in.”

Jason waves his hand through the air, “When?”

“Almost a year? Last November.”

Jason fiddles with the window again, slamming it back down, “This lock doesn’t work. You been sleeping in here and anyone could’ve just broken in?”

You shrug again, “I didn’t know it was broken! I don’t really lock my window often.”

Jason looks like he almost broke his neck by how fast his head whipped back to you, “You don’t lock your window????”

He finishes your taxes for you before he leaves, saying he’ll be back. Within the hour he’s knocking on your door again, a duffle bag in hand full of power tools, screws, and different assortments of heavy duty locks. He spends the rest of the night installing them.

A new one on your bedroom window that actually consisted of two different locks. A similar two on your kitchen window. Another three on your bedroom door itself. Then four on your front door.

As he leaned over your kitchen sink, screwing in the lock and blocking your way as you tried to make you both dinner.

“Is this really necessary?”

“I’m not having you practically open to every bad thing the city has to offer, love.”

“Then how are you going to come in through my window now?”

“I’ll learn to knock.”

That’s all I can think of right now okay byeee

[girllblogging777]

𝑈𝑁𝑇𝑂𝑈𝐶𝐻𝐴𝐵𝐿𝐸 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader (cousin’s best friend)

↳ word count : 0,6k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo riddle has never done feelings, but that was until draco’s french cousin transferred from beauxbatons

✩✩✩✩

you were “untouchable”. that’s what everyone thought. that’s what everyone said. the first word pronounced when someone mentioned you. the “mysterious french girl” the “exchange student from beauxbatons” and most of all “draco malfoy’s cousin”. you couldn’t go anywhere in this school without hearing those words. everyone knew better when it came to daring looking your way or crossing your path.

as mean and cold as he looked, your cousin draco had a habit of being quite overprotective when it came to you. since you had transferred to hogwarts a couple of months ago, you had never been seen without him and his friends. the slytherin boys all had quite the reputation in this school, and ever since draco had introduced you to them, you knew the other students would leave you alone.

however, the “untouchable” rule came to your cousin’s friends too. they knew better than that, and to be honest you didn’t care much. enzo was caring, blaise was loyal, theo was compassionate, but what you and them had was purely platonic. the only person to whom that rule didn’t apply was the one and only mattheo riddle. the captivating brunette had been draco’s ride or die since first year and unfortunately for you, that meant you had to spend a lot of time together. but for some reason, the boy always seemed to be avoiding you. it wasn’t obvious at first but you had started to notice it in the little things, like when he’d leave the great hall everytime you sat at their table or go for a cigarette break when you approached the boys at a party. “what did i do to make him hate me ?” you often thought. “he doesn’t even know me…”

you always ended up brushing it off by talking and joking with the other guys, who unlike mattheo, were always here for you. what you didn’t know was that the dark lord’s son didn’t hate you, he just hated what you made him feel. the way his heart fluttered when you were around was nothing but platonic, wich is why he always felt like bolting when you approached him.

but what could he do ? you were breathtakingly beautiful. hell, captivating even. the way your hair was always perfectly falling around your face like an angel. how you made the cutest sound when you laughed at his friends’ jokes. and that sweet accent of yours didn’t help. every word that rolled out of your tongue made him lose his mind. the minute you had walked inside the great hall back in september, he knew he was done for. “they weren’t lying when they said french people were attractive”. imagine what he felt when right after being sorted into slytherin, you ran into draco’s arms. did his best friend have a girlfriend ? how could he have missed that ? he was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard “meet my cousin, y/n y/l/n”. and that’s when he realised the mess he was in.

mattheo riddle wasn’t known to be a romantic guy, he didn’t do feelings. the only times he was seen with girls were during drunk make out sessions at parties, or quickies in broom closets when he needed some relief. all his life, he had stayed away from love and its problems. the “untouchable” girl was the compete opposite. you were a hopeless romantic, saving yourself for the perfect romance you had read and dreamt about ever since you were little. and most of all, you were his best friend’s little cousin. he knew he should’ve stayed away from you, and he really tried.

but everything changed after that one time…

✩✩✩✩

a/n : this is my first time writing so please give me some feedback !!! also please like, comment and reblog, i’m taking requests (tell me if you wanna be tagged in my posts <3)

@pizzaapeteer @tateshifts @iris-qt @deadghosy @mattheosdior @sadnymi

[ellecdc]

My love!! I have an idea for fic (only if you want to of course) james potter x reader where james is obsessed with reader’s tits and after a minor couple arguments james was still sulking and reader wants him to be the first one to talk to her so she wear very revealing clothes to tease him and he give in.

It doesn’t have to be a smut, just teasing and fluff!

hahaha awe this is so funny - the best part is, it would so work!!! Thanks for requesting 🫶

James Potter x fem!reader

CW: mention of boobs/tits/love of tits - no smut, joke about dying from suffocation on account of boobies

You were being petty; both of you were. In fact, the two of you seemed to be working overtime just to stay mad at each other at this point.

You can’t even really remember what you had argued about in the first place that caused this rift between you and James; all you knew was that you were not going to be the first to apologize.

It had been a few days since the big blow up that saw James uncharacteristically stern and firm in his words and left you feeling horribly defensive in response. Words were said, feelings were hurt, and now you were here.

Here being this awkward quasi-polite energy in your few measly interactions as you tried to co-exist in the same flat.

He made dinner one night - shrimp korma and a side of homemade naan - and you may have been mad, but you weren’t a jerk, so you thanked him for it.

You had been cleaning the flat one day and started a load of wash. You had more than enough room for more clothes, and not doing James’ wash just for the sake of it wasn’t worth the extra hit to your water bill (which wasn’t an issue, but old habits die hard in your case), so you threw his in too. And once it was washed and dried, well, you figured you might as well fold it and put it away for him. 

He had to begrudgingly thank you for that as well.

So now it was the weekend, and the two of you were clearly dying to update each other on your weeks. You couldn’t help but admit that you really missed James. You missed chatting with him, you missed laughing with him, you missed venting to him, and you missing cuddling with him.

There were other things you missed but... that was neither here nor there. 

All this to say, the feud needed to end.

But you were steadfast in your stance that you were not going to break first.

The idea came to you yesterday morning when James returned from his run sans shirt and muscles glistening with sweat in a way that actually had your mouth watering like some kind of deranged off-brand Pavlov experiment. The worst part was that James had noticed you ogling him and walked away to shower (alone, the bastard) with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

No matter, this just served to give you your brilliant master plan to win him back.

You had something James adored... two things, as a matter of fact.

Anyone who knows James Potter knows that James is a certified Boob Guy™. More specifically, James Potter loved your tits. You had two assets free to use in this battle, and you weren’t going to let that advantage go to waste. 

The weather, it seemed, supported your master plan and was finally warm and sunny enough to break out some of your more... revealing clothing. Today’s ensemble consisted of a particularly low neckline and tight-fitting tank top. You gathered a book and a bottle of water as you walked towards the back door for the terrace. James, being completely unable to break his good mannerdness even in the face of petty feuds, jumped up to get the door for you when he noticed that your hands were full. 

You made a point to use your elbows to encourage the girls a little closer together as he approached, causing him to stumble in his steps as his eyes strayed from his destination.

“Thanks, Jamie.” You murmured quietly, making sure a cool sense of indifference still coloured your tone. That seemed to shake James from his reverie as he looked up at you, a look of regret seeming to cross his face briefly at not being able to do what he would normally opt to in this situation (i.e., shove his face between them and die due to suffocation). 

“’Course.” He offered instead of saying “oh my god I love your boobies” and cleared his throat, closing the door gently behind you as you made your way to a lounge chair. 

You knew James wouldn’t have gotten far, so you read a few pages before deciding to step up this little ruse.

You slipped your tank top off to display your torso, boobs only supported by a thin bandeau wrapping around your chest. You poured a little water into your hair and then onto your chest to cool off when you heard a solid thunk on the panned glass of your back door. 

When you turned to look, you saw James’ retreating form and the tell-tale imprint of his forehead against the window where he had been standing previously. 

Though you knew you made an impact today, James seemed resolute in his sulking. No matter, tomorrow was a brand-new day.

Being a brand-new day, your morning outfit was a pair of joggers that you rolled the waist band a few times to expose more abdomen paired with a cropped top that was probably a touch too cropped to begin with, let alone paired with your currently braless state.

You could have sworn you heard James try (and fail) to suppress a groan as you entered the kitchen. You hid a smirk as you offered him a faint ‘morning’ and began readying yourself a cup of tea.

Apparently, James’ self-restraint snapped when you stood on your tip-toes to reach the honey on the second shelf of your cupboard; the action of you raising your arm causing your shirt to also lift sinfully.

“Angel.” He keened, causing you to turn your (what you hoped to look like an) innocent expression on him.

“Yes, Jamie?”

He groaned again and stood from the breakfast table, taking slow, cautious steps towards you. “I’m so sorry, love I... I hate that I let us go this long upset with each other.”

Your mouth pinched to the side as you spread your arms – inviting James into your embrace which he was all too eager to accept. “I’m sorry too, bubs. I’ve been immature.”

He half-chuckled half-groaned into your shoulder as the two of you relished in the feel of being in the other’s arms. 

“You are a cheeky little minx, torturing me like this.” He muttered.

“Like what?”

James scoffed and pulled back to look at you incredulously, but any mirth in his face was completely curtailed by the fondness oozing from his warm brown eyes.

“Oh, I’ve missed you.” He said as he bent his knees to be at eye level with your tits before he shoved his face right between them.

You rolled your eyes though he couldn’t see it, asking “who? Me or my tits?”

He was quiet for a moment as he thought about his answer. “Both?” He said, voice muffled from his place in your chest.

“I’ll allow it on account of your withdrawal.” You conceded. 

Note to self: all future arguments can be solved by flashing a little under-boob. 

[ebsmind]

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝 ❀ armando aretas x fem!reader

summary: no one ever said love was easy. good thing you weren’t planning on leaving anytime soon even through rough patches.

word count: 2.9k

warning(s): angst!, fighting (verbally not physically), smut (mdni), oral (fem receiving), fab!reader, readers height being mentioned (she’s 5’2), reader has armando wrapped around her damn finger, ummmm probably abandonment but like for only two days 😭, soft!armando, mention of rafe x reader, not 100% proofread

a/n: okay woooo this is the first imagine i’ve written in a minute (if you remember my hockey days ily) i hope this is good and can meet to yalls standards! i had fun writing this and ik it took me like over a week but i really didn’t know what i wanted to do with the plot lol. anyways please send me any feedback and if there’s any spelling mistakes or anything feel free to lmk! this was also my first time ever writing in depth smut so i hope it’s somewhat good 💃🏻 also reblogs are highly encouraged! they help me out sm!

oh! i almost forgot too, i didn’t mention it in here bc it’s not that important to me but i thought id share anyways! i see the reader knowing the AMMO team but she has a different job (id say in hospitality or something with medical knowledge) it doesn’t really matter tho since it’s what i envisioned but i just wanted yall to see where my head is at! okay im going now bye! and enjoy 💋

“we were crazy to think, crazy to think that this could work. remember how i said i’d die for you?”

The weather in Miami the past week has been bipolar. For it being the middle of September, it was chilly. Something felt off, almost like Mother Nature was reaching out. The rain had just finished pouring, and Armando wasn’t due to be home until another hour. So, when the younger girl heard the lock to the front door turn, she was surprised. He wasn’t one to leave early if anything, he loved working overtime. He always gave the excuse of 'wanting to be the main provider'. When he walks in, he sets his jacket on the coat hanger and doesn’t say a word. Weird.

“Hey you’re home early, what happened?” She stays calm. Something seems off with the 5’10 man and she doesn’t want to upset him even more.

He sets the keys on the dining table rather than the coffee table in the middle of the living room. He scurries off to their shared bedroom. She sighs and takes it as a hint to get off the couch and follow after him. Her mind runs wild on what could possibly be bothering him. Did Marcus find some way to piss him off? Did a raid go wrong? Did she do something wrong? There were so many possibilities of what could’ve gone wrong.

She walks into the bedroom cautiously and makes a B-line to the restroom. Armando had a routine when he came home from work. Put the keys in the bowl on the coffee table, find his girl, give her a kiss and hug, talk about both of their days and finally, hop in the shower. A sense of stability in his life made him feel somewhat relaxed and gave him a reason to never leave. He almost felt normal. Normal was a funny word considering he used to be in the cartel.

She knew the domesticated part of their relationship scared him and it did the same to her. Most nights she’d stay up thinking about if he was going to get up and leave one day. It wasn’t good for her and she knew it too.

She leans against the door frame and watches him get into the shower. He doesn’t seem to notice, he’s in his head and it’s bothering him. Armando didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve but she knew him well enough to know when he was in his head. Being in a romantic relationship with someone with an avoidant attachment style wasn’t easy but she needed to be patient. Some days were harder than others though, and she felt it in her bones that today was going to be a bad day.

She mentally prepares herself by taking a deep breath. She starts by saying, “Armando you’ve got to talk to me.” She uses his full name, no pet names, wanting him to know she’s being serious.

“We will when I get out.” He raises his voice, not enough for it to be considered yelling but just enough to get the point across that he isn’t in the mood.

She doesn’t respond, he needs time to gather his thoughts. She exits the bathroom and makes her way back to the living room. She picks up a book before finally making contact with the soft fabric of the couch. She needs something to distract herself with. About 15 minutes later, Armando walks into the room. She lets him soak in the silence, maybe he’ll get the memo to finally speak up without her having to tell him. To the contrary, he doesn’t.

Taking a deep breath she starts with, “I’m not in the mood to play a guessing game,” She pauses to look him in the eyes, “So please just talk to me and tell me what’s wrong.”

He keeps his eyes locked on her. He knows she’s irritated and wants to get this over with.

“And if I don’t want to talk?”

She scoffs, “You do realize we have to talk about it sooner or later, right? I don’t feel like doing this Armando, so please just tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”

“What if we don’t have to do this?”

Bamboozled, she questions him, “the fuck you mean by ‘what if we don’t have to do this’ ?”

“I don’t want to do this anymore Y/N.”

His confession makes the poor girl's heart fall to her stomach. She can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. Their relationship was a tricky one, just like any other. She’s seen her parents go through rough patches before for fucks sake, there’s no way he’s leaving without an explanation. Patience is running real slow between the two and the tension in the room feels foggy.

“Remember when I told you I loved you for the first time? Remember when I told you I’d take a fucking bullet for you? Hmm?”

Armando doesn’t respond. Typical. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for the young couple to fight, shit happens. But Armando’s cold demeanor is what was out of place.

She was his safe place and he knew it. She made it very clear when they started seeing each other that he couldn’t run away. Not from his feelings and most certainly not her. So for him to put up those walls that they desperately worked hard to keep down, was upsetting. To say the least.

With the tensions high between the pair, the girl took a much-awaited deep breath and spoke.

“My love for you is unconditional. I hope you remember that.”

Armando looks away and walks out the front door.

“they all warned us about times like this, they say the road gets hard and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith. blind faith.”

The mirrors in the bathroom are fogged up due to the boiling-hot water coming out of the shower head. It had been two days since Armando stormed out of the apartment and Y/N was fed up, to say the least.

Armando’s behavior has never gotten that bad. With the way Isabel raised him, it was expected to be rough but he had been doing good, for her. Everything he did, he reminded himself that it was for the both of them. He loved her just as much as she loved him. She fell first but he fell harder.

Armando never thought he would fall in love, but he did. In the middle of a stakeout, he spotted the girl walking out of a cafè. He remembers the dress she wore, it was white, and long, with yellow flowers. It screamed innocence and he loved it.

A week later he found himself following her around. He wasn’t due to go back to Mexico City for another week and he already finished the job so why not kill some time?

Two days before his departure from Miami he found himself in her apartment with his head between her thighs. He never wanted to leave but he couldn’t let anyone find out about you two. The good thing is, Armando was an excellent liar and no one ever discovered his dirty little secret.

Once she gets out of the shower, she waits no time to yell out her lover's name.

“Armando?” She pauses and there’s no answer.

Her heart breaks just a little more. With the ache in her chest, she decides to call the one person who might know where Armando is, Mike.

Mike was someone Y/N found comfort in, especially when it came to Armando. She knew their relationship was tricky, but he cared about his son and so did she.

Mike picks up at the 5th ring. He knew she only called when it was an emergency.

“Talk to me. What happened?” Mike doesn’t need to ask how she’s doing, if anything he’ll do it after but he needed to know what in the hell his son did now.

Mike’s voice brought the girl to tears. She felt at ease knowing that Mike was always willing to help her in a time of need.

She sniffles before speaking, “Oh Mike, it’s been two days since I’ve last seen him. He came home Tuesday night without saying a word and left right after showering. I tried to get him to talk but he wouldn’t budge. I’m really worried he hasn’t done this in so long, I don’t know what happened.” She says it all in one breath, and by the time she is done speaking, she’s panting. Mike pauses before replying to the anxious girl.

“I’ll call Dorn and Kelly to see if he’s been staying with them but he’s been going to work. I knew something was up when he refused to talk to anyone.”

“Thank you, Mike, I appreciate you so much.”

“Of course, but Imma need you to remember that when shit hits the fan never give up. You hear me? Never give up, especially with Armando.”

Mike hangs up after speaking and leaves Y/N to wallow in her thoughts. She understood Mike was a busy man and had a separate life so she didn’t take it to heart but it hurt knowing that she was all alone again.

“but we can patch it up good, make confessions and we’re begging for forgiveness, got the wine for you.”

Mike called Y/N back two hours later saying that Armando was on his way home. The girl couldn’t tell if she was happy that he was okay or enraged that he didn’t have the balls to come home without someone having to tell him too. Armando would just have to come home to see the answer to that.

The young woman was frightened, not knowing if this was going to end in a raging verbal war or if everything was going to return to normal. She didn’t want to lose Armando, like she said earlier, she loved him unconditionally.

To kill time, she decided it was best to bake her favorite sweets, chocolate chip cookies. She makes her way to the kitchen to prep the batter. When she goes to preheat the oven, she hears the front door unlock. Armando’s home.

Even after almost two years of being together, he still made her heart race and the butterflies in her stomach never seem to have left.

He walks in and spots her in the kitchen, her back is facing him. He can tell she’s waiting for him to make the first move.

“I’m home.” He closes the front door and locks it, his eyes never leaving her back.

She looks to the right and over her shoulder, “It took you long enough. Where were you?”

“I stayed with Dorn and Kelly. I’m fine Y/N.”

She takes a deep breath and mentally reminds herself that she can’t blow up on him, even though he deserves it. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. There’s nothing else for her to say, he messed up badly and he needed to be the one to fix this.

“Baby look, lo siento, I do. I don’t know what happened. One second I was okay and then Rita said something and I just got angry. I needed some time to think. I needed space.” He makes his way to the kitchen island, he’s now 5 feet away from Y/N. He yearns for her touch. The last couple of days were hard and all he wanted was a hug from his girl, but he knew he wasn’t getting that.

The oven beeps, cutting off Y/N’s train of thought. She grabs the metal tray filled with cookies and gently puts them into the oven. She turns and is faced with Armando. She takes notice of what he’s wearing. It’s a different outfit, she knew for a fact that he came when she was gone for work. He had left with nothing but his keys on Tuesday and Dorn’s clothes wouldn’t have fit Armando. That man was 6’2 for Christ's sake.

“I didn’t expect you to become a coward and just leave without saying a word but here we are.” Armando could feel the heat radiating off of the 5’2 woman. She may be small but she was frightening when she was angry.

Armando grips the counter, hard, he takes a deep breath before answering the girl.

“I know I fucked up but I just needed space.” She scoffs at his statement.

“Needed space from what exactly?” She manages to huff out. She’s fed up and Armando knows it. One wrong move and he’s a dead man.

“Rafe wouldn’t shut up, okay! He kept talking about you like you were just some piece of meat.! I couldn’t take it! I get that you guys dated but fuck!” Armando's grip on the counter is lethal and his knuckles are practically white.

“Armando Aretas are you jealous?”

“No.”

She smiles and gets a glare in return from her lover. Oh, she was going to have a field day with this.

Before Armando came into the picture Y/N had dated Rafe for about 4 months. It wasn’t anything serious, but if you were to ask her what she thought of Rafe, she’d tell you he was a piece of shit.

“Well I think you’re jealous,” she wasn’t letting it go, “and I think it’s hot but you need to remember that Rafe can be a douchebag.” She makes her way over to Armando and pulls him in for a hug.

“Just next time please don’t leave without saying a word and you have to communicate with me.” She looks up at him with her doe eyes while speaking.

“I promise it won’t happen again. I love you, baby.”

“Religion’s in your lips even if it’s a false god, we’d still worship, we might just get away with it, the altar is my hips even if it’s a false god, we’d still worship this love.”

Without a second to waste Armando sweeps the girl into a passionate kiss. He’s hungry and seeing Kelly and Dorn together really made him miss his girl.

He brings his hands down her body and rests them on her hips. He deepens the kiss by swiping his tongue into her mouth. As much as she wants to fight for it, she knows it’s his turn to take care of her, so she gives in. She runs her hand up to the back of his neck, rests it there, and occasionally plays with the hairs at the base of Armando’s neck. She was the first to pull away, she needed to catch a quick breath before being able to continue. Armando uses this moment to speak.

"Let me take care of you cariño."

Not even a second later, the younger woman lets him devour her like she's his last meal. He maneuvers them to the dining room, grabs her hips, and lifts her onto the table in one swift movement. She lets out a soft gasp when he makes contact with her neck. His teeth sink into the soft skin on the left side of her neck. It hurt, but not enough to cry about it. He soothes the small ache by running his tongue over the semi-red spot. She reacts by putting her hand on the back of his neck, never wanting him to stop. He has her panting, softly. The sounds go straight down into his pants. He chooses to ignore it, he's focusing on her.

He detaches himself from her neck to pull off the oversized tee she's wearing. He throws it to the floor. When he looks at her chest he notices the lacy fabric that hugs her breasts.

He lowers himself to where his lips rest right above her ear and whispers, "You drive me fucking crazy, baby."

Armando kneels in front of her and then proceeds to get a hold of her right leg. Before he continues, he looks up at her. God, he looked so fucking hot. His pupils were enflamed and filled with lust.

He starts to kiss his way up her leg, starting at her ankle, and right when he gets to her inner thing, she lets out a soft gasp. She's got him right where she wants him to be. Armando's right-hand grips the waistband of her black athletic shorts, signaling he wants them off. She lifts her hips and lets him do the rest. Armando takes off both her shorts and panties in one go. He was a tease, but not tonight.

He puts his hands on her hips and guides them to the edge of the table. He has full access and without a second left to spare his mouth makes contact with her folds. She shrieks, then it gets repressed into a moan when he finds her clit. He's lapping at her folds but it's not enough, she needs more.

"More, baby, I need more."

He wastes no time and inserts his ring and middle finger into her seeping wet cunt. Her moans are getting louder, and he fucking loves it. He continues by licking her clit, and her orgasm starts to finally peak.

"Oh fuck, yes, right there." She manages to speak through her moans.

Her right-hand finds its way to his dark brown hair, and she takes a fistful of it, not caring if it hurts him or not. He deserved it, after all, he left her alone for two days. She's close to her orgasm and he can feel it. His mouth makes its way to her clit and about 25 seconds later, she's coming undone.

Her sight fades to black and all she can see are stars. Once the image of them fades away, she looks down at Armando, he's licking her clean. She jerks away, from still being sensitive, but his hands immediately find their way to her hips to keep her in place. Not a drop of cum is going to waste. When he’s done he stands and removes his shirt. Y/N's hands go straight to his jeans, the outline of his cock doesn’t go unnoticed, but before she can get the zipper down the oven beeps. Both of their heads turn in the direction of the kitchen and the girls eyes widen in realization.

“What the fu-,”

"Oh my god, the cookies!"

taglist : @Mayalife38535

(if there is a strike through that means i couldn’t tag ur blog!)

to becomes apart of my taglist, there is a link on my navigation page!

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Tim doesn’t rest, not even in Death.

It’s a heart attack that gets him, well, that and the insane amount of fear toxin flooding his system. He was dead for a full three minutes before he watches (how was he watching?) his eldest brother get his heart going again and get his unconscious body to the cave. Alfred gets him onto bat-life support and Leslie looks gravely at his family after she’s done her best to heal him. They decide to keep trying, they don’t want to believe he’s gone.

Tim watches in fury. He’s more useful than this, he’s not just going to die and let the family mourn him! Tim sets to work trying to understand what’s happened to him and he realizes he must be a ghost. Therefore, if he wants to understand ghosts he needs to go where ghosts are, and thankfully he just read a JLD doc saying to avoid Amity Park at all costs.

It’s takes him a second to get used to flying at full speed, but he finds himself surrounded by strange people in a strange town and… he notices himself becoming more visible. He’s able to interact with more and more objects, he even picked up a pencil! Poltergeist is a step forward in his plan, Tim accepts this change of pace.

Then Tim meets Danny, a normal human kid who looks like he could be brought into the manor and given a cape, who looks straight at him.

“Wait, who are you? You didn’t die in Amity did you?”

“No, I died in Gotham. I came here to understand how I’m a ghost and how I can get back to my dying body. I just need a few answers.” Tim explains, and notices that his voice isn’t his own, like it’s a different language entirely that comes out.

“Well, uh, I dunno about going back to your body but it’s not safe for you to be here. The GIW are looking for lost souls like you that people won’t notice go missing. So get back to your family and find peace. Im sorry but that’s really the best advice I have.” Danny answers.

Tim begs him for answers on the GIW. Begs him for any answers at all. Danny shrugs him off each time, tell him that he’s just a ghost and he needs to move on before he gets hurt or becomes a problem.

Tim decides if he’s a problem, he’ll probably get more answers.

Soon enough, he’s stepping into the end of a battle where Phantom is getting Skulker into a thermos, and demands answers, and if not answers help.

They brawl, and Tim’s training as Red Robin gets him farther than a lot of ghosts. And then, when he knows he’s beat and he’s about to share thermos space with the robot jackass (who he can interrogate and then build his own robot) Tim realizes something.

“You’re still alive, aren’t you? You’re Danny, black hair and blue eyes.” Tim says and suddenly Phantom is as still as the dead despite the accusation.

“How the fuck- dude. Okay, you know what? Fine. Lets go talk, you’re clearly not giving up and I need you to never say that shit out loud ever again.”

Because blackmail works in life for Tim, blackmail also apparently works in death.

He’s given all of the info they have on the GIW, he’s introduced to ghost technology and how it works with ectoplasm. He’s told about the portal (although they refuse to sneak him into the house to see it- he can handle a few lasers, ugh) and he’s told about the general sequence of events in Danny’s life/death.

And then Tim is suddenly back in his body in Gotham.

The family found a way to bring him back and he’s 100% alive, no longer ghostly, but he retained all his memories.

“We have a war against the government to start” are not the first words his family expected to hear from Tim post death.

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

Haitani Rindou x Reader wc: 2k a/n: no idea. just rindou and reader barking at each other. Rindou is kinda asshole. bonten executive reader. haven't even edited (ofc)

“Wow, you look like a shit” are the words Rindou heard when he thought he was finally alone in his room. To make matters worse, they were coming from you. Why you’re in his room right now beats him and to be honest he doesn’t care, he just wants you out. He was lying on his bed, freshly showered, his hair still wet but he doesn’t really care right now, he just wants to rest. If only he could just rest.

“Go ahead, laugh” he says defeated causing you to sigh and take a sit on his bed where he lays on his back with his eyes closed. You noticed a bruise forming on his check along with his gashed lip.

“I don’t kick a man when he’s already down” that pulled a scoff out of him. You expected a retort, maybe a little salty but all you got was silence so you decided to speak up again “that bad?”

Rindou glances at you, his gaze is full of annoyance and it seems like he’s not in the mood of anything, let alone your questions. After a while he grunts out:

“Yeah, that bad. I had to jump out of the window to get out of there alive”

“You shouldn’t have gone alone”

Truth is Rindou is reckless. His confidence is not baseless but sometimes it gets him in trouble. Especially, when you are on a mission together. What makes everything worse is two of you are always at each other’s throats. You, personally, blame Rindou since he has hard time working with anyone but Ran or Kakuchou. That’s why Mikey doesn’t assign two of you on any mission. He couldn’t care less if you die because of your endless bickering but he wants his job done.

“I’ve done this before on my own” Rindou mutters with a hint of aggravation. He hates having to admit that he may need some help, especially from someone he doesn’t get along with. “What would you have done anyway if you came with me?”

You scoff

“I meant Ran, I prefer to work alone”

“You think Ran is any better?”

“When you’re together, yes. He goes into his big brother mode and makes sure you don’t die”

Rindou rolls his eyes, he can’t really argue there. Suddenly a question he thinks he should’ve asked before appears in his head.

“Why are you even here?”

“I was going to meet Ran here and then we’d go to the meeting. He ditched me though, saying he had to see someone first”

“What meeting?”

You look at him like he was the dumbest person you’ve ever met. To be fair, sometimes you really believe so.

“He wants to know why you had near death experience, RIndou. What, you think he missed us or something?”

He mutters “shut up” and gets up, taking out fresh clothes and starts too change causing you to look away quickly with your face flushed.

“You could at least wait for me to leave the room”

“You think I care? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before”

“Well, maybe you’re not great sight for everyone” It’s a lie. He is a great sight for everyone.

Once he’s done you get up to get the hair dryer and brush motioning Rindou to sit. He does so and looks at you confused.

“What are you doing?”

“Take a wild guess”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to style my hair”

“I can’t have you look ridiculous beside me” you mutter small “more than you already do” under your breath but, of course, he heard.

“Don’t even go there, love. You know how good I look”

“Not as good as your brother” words slip out before thinking and the smirk on his face quickly drops. He’s more than used to hear people fawn over Ran. He didn’t mind it before, Ran was always obsessed with his looks while Rindou didn’t care much. However, after a while, it got annoying, Ran this Ran that. He loves his brother but he hates it so much when people compare them. So, with that one sentence his expression shifts into a cold, almost annoyed look.

After being quiet for a brief moment, he just says:

“Just get on with brushing my hair already”

“Aw, are you mad at me now?” You cup his face with one of your hand not knowing how to act so you simply play it as you always do – getting on his nerves further. Rindou, on the other hand, looks like he’s about to bite your hand off. After a moment of consideration he harshly removes your hand and you just get on brushing his hair before he decides to shave yours in your sleep.

He closes his eyes as you start the process. Despite the annoyance and irritation that remains, he can’t deny that it feels kind of nice, especially after such a shitty day. He lets out a small sigh, trying to relax his body. After you’re done you mutter small “all done” and take a step back to look at your work.

“Thanks, I guess” he mutters monotone.

“Okay, let’s go, I’m driving” You tried to grab his keys on the bedside table but he beat me to it, scoffing before he turned around and left the room “asshole”

You follow him to his car, since Ran dropped you here and then left you, you have no other choice but to go with him. What surprised you is that he opened the door for you gaining “aren’t you a gentleman” from you and he gets into a driver’s seat, of course, not before rolling his eyes at you.

He takes off fairly fast, driving the same speed as usual, maybe slightly faster since he’s annoyed at you.

“Slow the fuck down” You almost yell at him “Wasn’t one death experience enough for you today?” It may sound funny to some, for example this horrible excuse of a human, being the executive in one of the most dangerous organization in Japan but scared of driving fast. Well, it’s not funny to you. It scares you to death and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it. He doesn’t care though, it’s not like this is the first time you’ve had a similar argument. Rindou glances at you, not at all bothered.

“What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little reckless driving?”

“I don’t trust your driving skills”

He raises an eyebrow at her glare

“Oh I’m wounded, I really am”

“Slow down… please” You’re gripping your seat at this point, your voice coming out a little shaky. He doesn’t look at you as he laughs

“You sure seem scared, love. Aren’t you supposed to be some super badass gangster, miss I’m-not-scared-of-anything?”

“You’re a sadist” You glare at him, clear disgust in your tone.

“So what?” He shrugs not at all bothered by the statement “Can’t help if I get a kick out of pissing you off”

You don’t answer him, knowing it’s no use. Instead you stay quiet, hands still gripping the edge of your seat and pray he doesn’t crash his car somewhere. When you arrived at the headquarters, you quickly get out of the car without waiting for him and enter the building. All the executives are here already, except Mikey. God forbid, that guy be on time somewhere.

You enter the meeting room and take a seat beside Ran.

“Your brother is the worst asshole I’ve ever met”

Ran looks at you with raised eyebrow.

“You’re only realizing that now?” he looks at the vacant chair beside you “Where is he, by the way? You haven’t killed him by chance, have you?”

“No, but he tried to kill me” I smile at him sarcastically “You should’ve seen the speed he drove us here. Almost killed us both”

Ran chuckles but before he says anything else younger Haitani enters the room followed with Mikey. Rindou hits Ran’s head slightly, gaining glare from the latter, and takes the seat beside me. You don’t look at him, all of your attention is on Mikey causing purple haired male to cross his arms annoyed at your indifference as he leans against the backrest of the chair.

Once the meeting was done and everyone was leaving you try to find Kakuchou to drop you off at home for numerous reason : 1.You’re still mad at Rindou; 2.Your house is on Kaku’s way

Seeing this as the perfect opportunity, Rindou follows you, grabbing your arm and standing in front of you, blocking your way to Kakuchou.

“Let me go, Haitani” You hiss at him causing him to tighten his grip, scowling at you.

“You’re coming with me and that’s final. Don’t fight me on this”

“Why? So you can finish what you started and kill me in a car crash?

He scrunches his face, feeling his patience running thin.

“Oh, shut it. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. Besides, you know I am a good driver”

“Big dea- I was terrified, you asshole and you made fun of me”

“You kill people for living Y/N. Half of the country wants you dead and you’re scared of speed? Jesus, grow up.” He’s annoyed at you. You can’t believe it. He has the nerve of being annoyed at you.

“Yes, Rindou. I am scared of speed and that’s why I’m going with Kakuchou. At least, he’s nice enough to respect my boundaries”

“Really? He’s nice? You’re choosing him over me because he’s nice? Okay, I’m sorry for scaring you if that makes you happy. Am I nice enough for you to come with me now or do I have to start groveling?”

You look at him dumbfounded.

“Oh my god, you’re- god, you’re so-“ You can’t find words and you want to cry in frustration. Why the hell is it so hard for him to understand?

Rindou glares down at you, his lavender eyes boring into yours with an almost menacing look.

“So what, hm? I’m what, Y/N? Go on. Say it. You’re already saying bunch of bullshit, so why not just say what you really want to say”

His tone is cold and harsh as he stares at you, challenges you to say whatever you want without a filter. However, he would never expect it from you to pull him towards you by his tie and kiss him. Pulling all your frustration and rage, both towards him, in the kiss. Rindou’s eyes widen at the sudden action before he closes them, pressing his lips firmly against yours. Clearly, he’s just as frustrated as you are, pouring it all in the kiss as his wraps his arms around your waist and pull you against his body.

“I hate you so much” You say between the kiss.

“Why are you kissing me then?” He asks leaving trails of kisses on your neck before he returns to your lips.

“Why are you?”

“Because, even though you piss me off to no end, I still want you. Is that what you wanted to hear?” pecking yours lips

“It’ll do”

He scoffs at her response, pulling away from kiss. He rests his forehead against yours, catching his breath as he mutters:

“You’re one hell of a pain in the ass”

“You’re one to talk”

“You love every second of it though”

“so do you” you grin

“I do”

He answers after a moment with his eyes closed. You smile slightly, before looking around and realizing you’re still in public.

“Everyone left”

“What’d you expect? That they’d wait for us to finish our make-out session?” His tone is filled with mockery

“I was hoping Kaku would drive me”

He lets out a scoff

“Oh, hell no” Rindou looks at you with a glare “Get in the damn car or I will physically drag you”

You sigh, tired.

“Okay, just-“

“I’ll drive slower, I know” He cuts you off without looking at you and goes to the parking lot. Opening the doors for you you hesitate to get in.

“What now?” He sighs

“Just so you know…” I start, searching for his eyes “I don’t think Ran is better than you”

He takes a moment to look at me.

“Just get in, doll” He says and looks away with a visible blush on his face. I chuckle quietly and obey, knowing he would just get grumpy if I commented on it.

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

the great war - astarion

a/n: i finished baldurs gate 3 last night for the first time and i just. i couldn't stop thinking about the fact that this is a game where all you do is fight and kill people and spend months thinking you'll die. and no one mentions the fact that those things woudl give you ptsd. so here's what i came up with! warnings: cursing, smut, angst, nightmares, ptsd, crying, MASSIVE spoilers for baldurs gate 3. like explicit details about the ending. general content warning for mature themes and such word count: 2.2.k summary: the four things you tell your companions you've been up to when they ask at reunions. pairing: astarion x gn!reader now playing: the great war - taylor swift "that was the night i nearly lost you/i really thought i'd lost you/we can plant a memory garden/say a solemn prayer, place a poppy in my hair/there's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair/and we will never go back"

Painting

He asks you to teach him to paint on a cold, rainy day. He’s spent hours watching you meticulously replicate various memories and scenes you want to be forever permanent. You paint your old friends.

You paint Gale and Tara curled up on one of the chairs in the Elfsong Tavern.

You paint Astarion with a goblet in his hand, wrinkles crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

You paint Karlach and Shadowheart laughing by the fire.

You paint Astarion in the early morning, his arm draped over his eyes as he rests.

You paint Wyll and Lae’zel sparring as Scratch watches, running around them like an excited toddler.

You paint Astarion sitting by the river, his feet submerged in the water. You remember how peaceful he looked.

But now, he stares at the canvas in front of him with a frown.

“What’s wrong?” You ask gently as you work.

“You’re so good at this,” He whines, “It’s infuriating.” You can’t help yourself. You lean over and gently kiss his cheek. The pale elf’s ears grow red.

“It’s all about practice and time, love.” You remind. “Besides, I also draw a lot. That helps.” You confess. Astarion looks at you curiously.

“I’ve never seen any of your drawings. Not recently, I suppose.” He recalls scattered parchment across your tent, but he couldn’t recall seeing you draw in the past few months. Your heart skips a beat.

You’ve revealed yourself.

You rest the paintbrush and the pallet down, before going to your bedroom. You come back and hand him a sketchbook. He sits down on one of your chairs before taking it, beginning to flip through it.

The pages are full of so many things.

His heart aches just looking at it.

The first few pages are normal. You’ve drawn Astarion, your companions, Scratch..

And then, he starts to see the dragon you fought on top of the Netherbrain. Right beneath it, Arabella grins back to him.

The amulet of Bhaal sits in one corner, and Halsin widdling sits in the other.

This pattern goes on and on, back and forth. A horrible thing is followed by the warmest memory you can reach in that moment.

Unconsciously, Astarion’s arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer. He goes through the book, and as the horrors you’ve drawn become worse, he notices that a familiar face he now recognizes as himself fills the pages.

He closes the book and puts it to the side. Then, he glances up to you. He pulls you closer, so you’re standing between his legs. You admire him for a long time but neither of you say much. You just admire each other as you quietly ponder everything that you’ve been through

2. Fucking

When you aren’t painting, you’re fucking—You cannot help yourself, and at this point, it’s sort of embarrassing.

You and your darling Astarion live in a roomy but peaceful house where no one can just stumble upon you, they must be looking. You have a small sunroom for your paintings, even an alchemy lab, and of course, Astarion spends most of his time in the study he has made himself.

But that doesn’t stop the pair of you from trying to fuck to death.

Astarion bakes you various delicious treats, and then lays you down on the table to enjoy his own treat—His tongue laps up the sweet nectar that he has found himself genuinely craving you, as if your cum was a lifesaving elixir.

And of course, while he works in his study, your mouth warms his cock, teasing it—When you get too cheeky, he pulls your hair with his fingers, telling you to behave.

One particular night, his teeth graze your neck as he thrusts into you, gripping your hands as he listens to the euphoric moans leaving your lips. He thinks he can probably spend the rest of eternity chasing those moans.

“Astarion,” You breath out, squeezing his hand, and he just lets out a breathy chuckle.

“I know, darling, just wait a few more minutes for me..” he says softly, “Just really feel everything I’m giving you,” He says. His voice is not unkind, and he is focused on giving you what you want.

You fought a Netherbrain for Gods sake, you can at least take a few minutes to enjoy the feeling of your spouse fucking you.

As your moans become whinier, and Astarion feels himself about to cum too, so he bites the shell of your ear, a quiet sign to let yourself go.

And you do—In the midst of a chorus of moans and pants, you take a second to recognize the fact that you’re alive. The two of you are breathing and you’re not mindflayers, and you’re in love. You never thought the feeling of your lover’s cum dripping out of you would be damn near inspirational.

He stays on top of you for a few minutes, and you can tell he’s feeling the same things you are. But eventually he rolls off of you and rests comfortably on his stomach. Your hand comes over to his back, starting to trace those scars.

Those scars that haunt him.

You cannot help the next words that leave your lips.

“Do you ever regret not becoming the Ascendant?” You ask quietly. His eyes study yours. He answers with another question—

“Do you ever regret not taking control of the Netherbrain?” he asks.

Your answer is simple. Unspoken. Obvious.

You just smile gently to him and lean in, kissing his head.

3. Late Night Tea

Astarion doesn’t sleep. Not because he doesn’t want to, but that’s how elves work. But he doesn’t mind laying next to you as you sleep and he meditates.

But mostly, you never sleep through the night.

Sometimes it’s something small.

Raphael’s laughter haunting you. The snake that threatened Arabella in the grove. The sewers of Baldurs Gate.

Other times, it’s intense. It’s vivid and leaves you sobbing and panicked.

Orin with a knife to Gale’s throat. Gortash experimenting on Karlach. The Emporer sucking Wyll’s soul from his head, or sometimes you’re just stuck in the Astral Prism, unable to get out.

Tonight, You’re in Cazzador’s dungeon. You’re standing in the middle of the circle where he attempted to preform the ascension ritual—But this time it’s different. Your companions are levitating, suspended in red magic. When you look behind you, Astarion is there. He’s shirtless, suspended midair.

Your heart drops.

You run over to him, as fast as your feet will take you, but you are halted just a few feet from him, crashing into an invisible barrier keeping you from your spouse. You cannot reach any of your companions, but their faces are all twisted into the same look—A melted, tense look of pain and terror.

You look back to the center of the room and.. You see your dream vistor. The façade the Emperor put on to try and trick you. They hold Cazzador’s staff, and their eyes glow deep red. You charge at the dream visitor, your hands clawing for the face before—

You wake up, sobbing and breathless. You have to take a moment to realize that it is over, that you’re not in that dungeon deep beneath Cazzador’s estate, and instead, are in bed, lying with Astarion.

You sit up, and when you glance over to him, he’s awake, looking at you with this worried expression. It makes him look younger than you’ve ever known him.

“Astarion—” You start, the words getting caught in your throat.

His hand comes over to your cheek, cupping it gently.

“Shh.. Just breath.” He requests gently, wiping your tears gently. His other hand finds yours. “Come along,” He says softly, tugging on your hand, pulling you along to the kitchen. The sun will rise soon. But Astarion leaves the windows open, sensing it will help ground you.

He starts to boil water for tea, as you sit at the table, staring out the window. Your hands wipe away your tears. Astarion brings two cups of tea to the table and sits next to you.

“Thank you.” You say gently, and he smiles gently to you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shake your head. Then you ask—

“Do you ever get nightmares?”

Astarion tilts his head, admiring you for a few moments as he debates his answer.

“Yes.” He takes a sip of his tea.

“Why don’t you ever wake me up when you have them? You always seem to help me, why not wake me up?”

Astarion slides off the chair and kneels by your side. He kisses your hand gently, looking up to you with those gorgeous red eyes.

“When I wake up and realize that Cazzador is dead, that it was just a rather dull nightmare.. When I remember that you’re safe and by my side, I’m okay.” He says gently. “As long as I can realize you’re safe, I can calm down.”

You kiss him deeply, and you never want to let him go.

4. Growing Back Together

It takes a long time to find all the pieces of yourself that has been scattered throughout Faerun due to the parasite. It takes a long time for Astarion to unlearn two hundred years of abuse and torment.

The two of you become less frail as you grow comfortable. Your stomachs are full of warm soup and bread and rich wines, and as you lose that familiar and constant hunger, your brain begins to clean up, as if it’s repairing itself, mending the walls and putting pictures back together.

You and Astarion spend your time trying to grow together. He teaches you how to play cards, and you accuse him of cheating every single time. You know he is. He won’t ever admit it to you.

You face the inevitability that Astarion will outlive you. That you will grow old and sickly, and Astarion will be left all alone. He will outlive not only you, but your comapnions, too. It will be just him and Withers one day.

And at first, you try to convince him to move on after you die. You tell him that he will have the opportunity to see this wild future, a future that no one can possibly predict. You tell him that he might be able to fall in love with other people, and that he can live this phenomenal life in your name.

But he argues back. He tells you he has no desire for people to forget the battles you fought, that he has no need to hear the very real adventures he went on become a fairytale, a legend that no one truly believes.

He has no need to outlive his friends, loved ones, or even future children you might have with him.

“There’s no desire to live a life without you. You are what makes my life worth living.”

And that is what convinces you. You agree that when you’re old and wrinkly, and you are near the end, Astarion will hold you as the sun rises. That way, the pair of you will die together. There will never be a day the two of you know without each other.

But for the time being, you spend long nights in front of the fire, talking about anything and everything.

One night, Astarion slips a gold band onto your finger and asks you to solidify the legend of the Vampire Astarion and the Savior of Baldurs Gate, in front of your friends, in front of the Gods, and to each other.

How could you say no?

But the two of you, being who you are.. You cannot just rent a venue, buy a few fancy outfits, get a cake, and have a party. There needs to be a special twist on it.

So when Withers sends out invitations for the five year anniversary of your defeat of the Netherbrain (after six months and then a year), you and Astarion look at each other, and realize what must happen.

To declare your love for each other in the place where your love started, it’s the perfect fairytale ending the two of you deserve.

Withers agrees to turn his celebration into a makeshift wedding, happy to indulge you in your mortal celebrations, especially because he knows things you do not know.

So, in that pretty clearing in the forest that he lead you to when you thought you might be illithid by morning, you marry him. You marry him and never look back, do not think twice, and you dive headfirst into it.

When you get back to your house, you spend days buried between silk sheets.

Dirty tea cups sit on the table.

An old game of cards lays abandoned on the desk of his study.

A painting of your wedding hangs on the wall.

The Pale Elf gets his happy ending.

You can hear your own thoughts, there is no tadpole invading them.

And neither of you have flinched in years.

[rae-writes]

the first time—

obey me boys x reader

wc : 3.k

warnings : mild mc injuries, reference to lesson 16 (belphie)

synopsis : a collection of firsts with your pining boys + Luke cause I adore hims (and minus asmo)

a/n : why asmo isn’t included : here 

Lucifer

the first time you felt his bare touch 

Solomon’s new potion experiment made you sick : feverish, sluggish, barely being able to walk without stumbling. You definitely shouldn’t have tested it for him during RAD, because now you were disoriented, and leaned up against the hallway wall when you should be in class. 

Lithe fingers grabbed your jaw gently, sending shivers down your body; their touch was cold and soft...comforting. It felt nice. 

Without bothering to open your eyes, your own hand came up to grasp theirs. You leaned into the touch and let out a miserable noise. A deep, familiar, chuckle made you snap your eyes open. 

Lucifer stood in front of you with an amused, albeit concerned, smile on his face. “Mc, it seems you’re running a fever.” 

But you weren’t focused on his words, no. You were focused on his ungloved hand. You trailed your fingers across the exposed skin, running over each of his digits before you noticed his nails. 

Red. His nails were red. Of course they were red. The sight alone made you smile, and against your better judgment, you pulled his hand up to place kisses on each of his fingertips. 

Ruby eyes widened slightly at your action, body forcibly repressing shivers and the stupid blush that wanted to crawl up his face. “Mc.”

“Let’s just stay here for a bit, please.” You knew he could fix your sickness with a snap of his fingers, but... “Wanna feel your touch.” 

And maybe Lucifer shouldn’t get in the habit of spoiling you, but you’re pouting and nuzzling into his hand, and he can’t deny the pride swelling in his chest because you’d rather be sick and miserable than have him pull away and tug his glove back on. 

“Of course.” 

(As he slid down the wall to sit on the floor with you, he made the fever disappear anyway. Your bright smile made missing class worth it, especially when you tugged off his other glove and rested your face in his hands.)

Mammon

the first time you kissed him

“Thank you, Mammon.” 

Your soft tone had him looking up from your rather poorly bandaged wrist, eyebrows furrowed, “Y-yeah, of c-course.” His mouth was pulled into a frown as he finished up. How could he have been so careless? He should’ve been standing closer to you. He should’ve gotten up even after he slipped and protected you. He should’ve-

“Mammon?”

Blue eyes snapped up, meeting your worried e/c hues. Fuck, it made his heart lurch. “Next time I’m gonna be the one that saves you. Me. Not Lucifer, not anyone else. A-and if I can’t save you, your only other choice is to die! It’s me or no one!”

You nodded softly, gaze never straying from his. “You or no one.”

He nodded back absentmindedly, not wanting to ruin the atmosphere with his stupid fumbling. Faintly, he recognizes that Beel could be coming back at any second, but when your hand brushes against his cheek he can’t help but lean closer.

“You’re so sweet, Mammon…” you cradled his face with both hands now, gently pulling him forward, “My best first man.” your lips slotted over his hesitantly and just a bit clumsily. 

His heart nearly shot out of his chest at the way you were being so soft with him— a demon. So he reciprocates the kiss just as softly, if not a little more firmly. And he could almost float back to the celestial realm with how light he feels when you press just a little closer to him. 

(And yeah he’s greedy, he’s the fucking avatar of greed, so Mammon doesn’t feel bad in the slightest when your phone starts buzzing with incoming texts from Levi. He just pulls you in closer, makes you stay with him just a bit longer because now he’s addicted to the feel of your kiss.)

Levi

the first time you linked hands

When you heard there was going to be a ball during your retreat at the Demon Lord’s Castle, you were excited! You enjoyed the thought of getting to dress up and dance like the fairy tales, but the actual thing had you feeling nervous; there were so. many. people. Demons, really, but that actually made it worse.

And after being politely threatened by Lucifer (again), you and your now very much aching hand were ready to curl up and disappear. But that wasn’t an option, so you wandered around close to the walls until a gentle touch made you stop.

“M-mc?” Levi’s tail had curled around your wrist while he stood shifting his weight around. As his hand moved to brush against yours, he didn’t make a single sound, choosing instead to ask his question silently. 

‘D-do you w-want to h-h-hold my h-hand?’

Even though he wasn’t speaking, you could still hear his cute, nervous stuttering clear as day in your mind; it makes you smile and step closer. Your pinky wraps around his in a ‘yes’, feeling grateful he noticed your discomfort.

Levi jolts, having been prepared to get rejected. His face burns with an alarming red but he slowly intertwines all your fingers together nonetheless. Almost instinctively, his thumb begins rubbing circles over yours, “D-do you f-feel better y-yet?”

You did. Even the ache Lucifer caused in your hand seemed to dull at his bashful smile. “Yes, Levi. Thank you.”

He nodded, pushing down the urge to curl up and hide away when you squeezed his hand, making him jolt again. The sound of your fond laughter sent him reeling and he awkwardly squeezed back just to hear it again and again.

(He can feel his palms growing sweaty as the time passes, and Levi is all but amazed you seem to not care. Your fingers stay tangled with his, palms never breaking contact, even if you have to tug one another clumsily so you can walk around another guest without letting go. It makes Levi all fuzzy and warm— and he’s pretty sure it’s not just because it’s getting hot in the ballroom.)

Satan

the first time you genuinely smiled at him

It had been nearly a week since you, Lucifer, Mammon, and Satan returned home from the fiasco in London. Things were good between you and the fourth born, much to his delight. He wasn’t expecting it since he did try to attack you before the trip, even if he already apologized for it. 

A ‘I’ve actually gotten pretty used to it?’ was thrown out before you were dragging him down to dinner by his sleeve. Being in the devildom, Satan supposes he should be glad that you aren’t giving such severe reactions to these things like you were when you first arrived (the ordeal with Lucifer and the grimoire was another thing entirely), but he still feels as though he should make up for losing his cool. 

He decided on asking what your favorite book is so he can get himself a copy to read and then get you a copy of his favorite book in return. As he sat reading, waiting for you to arrive, he failed to notice your presence in the doorway until you rapped your knuckles on the wood. 

Placing his bookmark, Satan stood up, excited to give you his gift when he had the breath stolen from him. You hadn’t moved but now you were holding up a lanyard, a familiar chocolate lizard attached, with a beaming smile. 

His fingers clutched at his identical keychain, one he’d tied to his favorite bookmark. You’d noticed. It made you happy. You were smiling at him. He’d never seen such genuineness directed at him from you and the sight itself, the feeling of being on the receiving end of it, made him beam right back as he held out the book for you.

(And when you settle down beside him on the common room couch, immersed in reading the book he’d gotten you- his favorite- Satan can’t resist peering over the top of his own book to take in your reactions. Because when you smile at the story, it almost feels like you’re still smiling at him.)

Beel

the first time you cooked for him, only him

[HoL gc; Beel] :(. :((. :(((. :((((.

[HoL gc; Lucifer] Put your D.D.D down and rest. We’ll bring you something after school.

You frowned at Beel’s obvious misery, knowing the sickness had to be bad if he couldn’t make it to school. The thought of him with a fever, bedridden and being unable to get food from the fridge- and possibly not even being able to keep it down- made your stomach twist unpleasantly. 

[Mc] Stay in bed for me, bub. 

Beel whined pitifully at your text, stomach rumbling and head aching. “Mc…” he rolled over, arms moving to cover his face when yours popped in his vision. “M-mc?” Despite being confused at your presence, he tugged you closer to his feverish body.

“Hi, bubs. ‘M here. Not goin’ anywhere, okay?” Rubbing a cool rag over his face, neck, and chest, you smiled down at him reassuringly, “You smell that? I brought you some food. Cooked it just for you.”

His sense of smell was severely dulled from the sickness, but at the mention of your cooking, he sniffed a couple times until he could pick up the faint aroma, “Just f-for me? You should be in school…Lucifer’s going to get mad.”

You shook your head, dismissing his worries, “Shh. I left to cook some ‘feel better’ food for my favorite red-head. Ain’t no better reason to skip than that, now here. Try and eat as much as you can- it should all be easy on your stomach.”

He sips at the soup first, eyeing the rest of the dishes he easily made out as popular human world remedies. Beel’s stomach growls in appreciation and his heart beats two times faster, “Thank you, Mc! Eat some with me?”

(The Fangol game on friday he had to get better for was forgotten as you sat by his side and shared food. Your insistence to let him eat first, and the majority, made his cheeks flush hotter than the fever. Food tastes better when he could eat it with you and it tasted even better when you made it for him…stay with him until he gets better. And all the days after, too.)

Belphie

the first time you hugged him (again)

“Stupid Lucifer and his stupid lectures and stupid face-“ 

You bit your lip to keep from grinning as you rounded the corner and peeked into the planetarium. “Belphie?” The sight of a tail flicking angrily made you snort. 

He turned, lips pursed in a pout and eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

A smile finally tugged at your lips, hand coming up to smooth back his hair, being mindful of his horns. The shocked expression you received was amusing and you couldn’t help but laugh, “Aww.”

“D-don’t ‘aww’ at me!” Belphie’s face flushed as he shook his head, making his hair fall back into place. The loss of warmth from your touch made him frown, “What do you want?” 

You sighed at his tense stature. “Lucifer can be a jerk sometimes. Don’t worry about him.” Your arms wrapped around his waist tightly in a hug; he felt…good.

Meanwhile Belphie ran stiff as a board, eyes widening comically and mouth dropping open. This feeling…he remembered it— he’s craved it ever since-

“You did it! You actually did it! I’m free now!” His chest felt weird and fuzzy when you jumped into his open arms, laughing with him, though he didn’t dwell on the feeling for long. 

A quiet gasp escaped him when you began to pull back, arms instinctively curling around you, “Don’t. Stay.” 

And you did. 

(The warmth spreading through his body was almost too hot, but Belphie revels in it because you’re hugging him— even after what happened last time. He thinks he can get used to the burn if it means you won’t let go.)

Diavolo

the first time you treated him like a real friend

The student council hall was quiet. The demons already present were taking the time to enjoy the rare silence when the door slammed open rather obnoxiously. 

“DIA!”

The Prince of Hell jumped. His head whipped around, jaw on the floor, and his sparkling eyes almost missed the way you were drenched from head to toe. Almost. “Oh dear, what happened, Mc?” 

Listen to that worried tone. It’s like he wasn’t throwing a party inside his brain. 

Before Lucifer could open his mouth and scold you, your arms were stretched out towards the Prince with a pout on your face. “The Little D’s threw water balloons at me…” you tilted your head, “They said you told them to!” 

Uh-oh. “It seems they mistook my instructions for Lucifer for you instead…I’m terribly sorry, Mc.” 

A grin graced Barbatos’ features, “Perhaps next time you should not talk about them both at the same time.” 

“Yes, yes-“ Diavolo wasn’t listening. He was too busy shrugging his coat off and draping it around you, “I am truly sorry. What can I do to make it up to you?”

You gave a sly smile, “Just stand still please.”

“Stand still-?!” A red water balloon hit the prince smack in the chest. Coldness spread across his chest as the liquid seeped into his shirt, but his chest had never felt warmer. No one would ever dare to do anything of the sort to him, the prince, but you…you did it with a smile. 

He likes your smile. 

(Diavolo couldn’t help himself when he lifted you in the air, spinning you around with a booming laugh that was reciprocated sweetly. Friendship was the stepping stone to becoming even closer with you, and if he has to endure Lucifer and Barbatos’ lectures to do that, he’ll do it a thousand times if it’s for you.)

Barbatos

the first time you helped him work 

Lucifer had caught you on your way home from RAD, asking if you’d rather come with him to the Demon Lord’s Castle (Levi accidentally summoned Lotan again so he and everyone else were cleaning up and the first born thought he’d spare you the headache.)

So you arrived with Lucifer in tow (you wanted to knock), giving the prince and Barbatos quite the delight. You stayed behind with the latter, as Lucifer and Diavolo had business to discuss, and happily followed him to the kitchen.

“Been working on any new sweets, Barb?” You eye the empty icing bowls on the counter, shimmying past the demon to scoop some onto your finger. 

He chuckles, “I have. The only thing left to do is pipe the designs on.” Barbatos was used to you watching him bake, so he was a bit puzzled when you began to collect the dirty dishes from around the kitchen instead. 

You hummed as you danced around the demon to reach the sink. Small bubbles floated up as piled the dishes up in the water, making you giggle. 

“Mc?” Barbatos places down the icing pipe and makes his way over to you, “What are you doing?” 

“Washing dishes? You’ll have to go take their tea up to them in a bit and I know you wanted to get those cookies decorated, so I thought I’d help out!”

Green eyes softened, lips curling into a small smile. “How thoughtful of you.” 

(Barbatos has never failed to deliver the young master’s tea in the millennia he’s been his steward, but for today, the butler hopes his master won’t mind. He’d truly hate to have to miss out on your cheerful face as you blew soap bubbles at him.)

Simeon

the first time you saw his wings 

The grip you had on Simeon’s hand only got tighter as the group of demons stalked closer. Normally you wouldn’t worry- you weren’t helpless and you had an angel with you- but there were just so many of them with nowhere to go. 

Lower level demons, but they were smart enough to know they needed to gang up on the devildom’s human and their angel pet. “What’s with those looks? Not gonna call for help?” One of the taller demons shifted and lashed their tail at your face, slicing your cheek open.

Simeon saw red. His hand ripped from yours as he moved to stand in front of you, eyes narrowed dangerously. “Tch.” White wings sprouted from his back, spanning out to their full length; they glowed brightly, sending every demon in the vicinity scrambling. 

“Simeon…”

The angel tensed at your quiet tone, head craning around to watch you shuffle around. Were you scared? Was he too frightening? Did he accidentally hurt you? “Mc-”

“They’re beautiful.” Awe filled eyes gazed at him with adoration, “You’re beautiful.” Your hand stretched out absentmindedly, a smile stretching across your face when his wing extended toward you. 

Meanwhile, Simeon was floored. Your reaction, your smile, the gentle way you caressed his wings- it was all dizzying and rejuvenating at the same time. Father help him, he seriously considered you were the angel instead.

“Oh-! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to touch them! Angel wings are probably sacred or something-” You moved to pull your hand back, but lithe fingers wrapped around your wrist, preventing yours from leaving his feathers. 

“Please, touch them as much as you like.”

(Seeing an angel’s wings, much less touching them, was sacred. Simeon couldn’t bring himself to care, though. He’d kneel before you if you wanted him to- fuck he was so smitten with you. Corrupt him, do what you wish, just don’t make him go without the feel of your touch.)

Solomon

the first time you told him you missed him

You clutched the phone tighter when Mammon hung up, letting out a sigh. When it buzzed again, this time with texts, you checked half-heartedly before getting excited at the name displayed. 

[Solomon] Hey. How are you doing? It’s been a while. 

[Mc] It sucks. This sucks. I miss the Devildom.

[Solomon] Do you now? By the way, Mc, I can’t help wondering…

“When were you gonna mention how much you miss me?” Solomon's lips pull into the biggest grin you’ve ever seen him have, “Surprise! You didn’t expect this, did you?”

You drop your D.D.D and throw your arms around his neck, bubbly laugh echoing through the street, “Solomon! I missed you so fucking much, holy shit, you’re actually here!” 

The sorcerer stood, lips parted in shock, and arms raised in the air slightly. He could feel your warmth seeping through his clothes and for just a moment, Solomon forgot all he knew about self-restraint and snaked his arms around you tightly. 

Jumping up to wrap your legs around his waist, you laughed even harder when he stumbled back slightly from the added weight. You knew Solomon had to be absolutely shell-shocked; the two of you never got affectionate like this with one another before (slightly due to the brothers butting in) but you just…

“Missed me a lot, huh? I must admit, I wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction.” He leaned back to show you his smile- and the rare baby pink blush that dusted over his cheeks.

The sight made you swoon, “Well I did. I missed you. Badly.”

(When Solomon put you down, the warmth faded away too fast for his liking. His fingers twitched at his sides, lips pulling into a slight frown before he was reaching out for you, tugging you back into his arms. The Devildom could wait for a little while longer— Solomon wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.)

Luke

the first time you made him speechless

The young Angel didn’t like to admit to having nightmares. While he obviously knew it was something everyone- no matter the age- could suffer from, he still didn’t want to burden anyone with his ‘childish’ dreams. Tonight had been especially bad though, and Luke’s resolve finally cracked; he found himself seeking your reassurance without thinking. 

[11:29pm] Mc, are you awake? I had a nightmare…

Luke tells himself he’s stupid- of course you’re asleep! It’s a school night and he shouldn’t be bothering you. He forces himself to lay back down, trying to shoo away the disappointment in his chest. 

[11:45pm] Luke! Come open the door!! 

Luke stares at his phone for a few seconds before he’s scrambling quietly to the front door, “Mc?! W-what are you doing here?!” 

“You said you had a nightmare, right? I brought my clothes and stuff for school tomorrow so we could have a little sleepover! Being with someone else always helps me after I have a nightmare.” 

Blue eyes stare in disbelief as you easily make your way through the halls, heading straight towards his room. He’s silent the entire time, watching you settle into his bed, piling up the covers comfortably before patting the spot beside you. And as Luke slips back under the blankets and cuddles into your side, he hears you humming a soft tune and refuses to open his mouth in fear of interrupting you after you’ve come all this way— just because he had a nightmare. 

‘Mc…thank you.’ 

(Simeon comes to wake Luke up after not seeing him in the kitchen for breakfast and pauses, lips curling into a grin. You're wrapped around Luke like a barrier against the outside world, intent on protecting him, even in your sleep. He figures he should quickly text Lucifer though, before he has to deal with the wrath of 7 brothers when they figure out their Mc disappeared in the night.)

[chuubian]

solace and secrecy

Tags Fyodor x fem reader, angst, religious imagery, religious guilt, alcohol consumption, abuse, blasphemy?? kinda?

Summary Fyodor is determined to live as a righteous, holy man. Dedication to his god is all he has ever known and he would never stray away from it, but he starts to view his faith differently when he met you.

Intricate architecture and stained glass windows were familiar views to Fyodor. Spending all his free time as a child in the church, working on his faith. Terrified of what could happen if he were to ever give up his religion. His dedication bordered on obsession. When the time came to make his career choice, he chose something that would be worthy of going to heaven.

Becoming a priest involved things like teaching the congregation, performing sacraments, and counseling. Fyodor did all this with love and passion in his heart. It was familiar. There was no place he would rather be.

Fyodor is sitting in his office, offering counseling to his brothers and sisters is a welcome break from standing and preaching for hours at a time. Most problems people come to him with are not too serious. Family disputes and disobedient children, occasionally infidelity and thievery. Though… those are few and far in between.

Fyodor is cleaning up his desk while waiting for his next meeting. Stacking his books and arranging his vase of flowers to be just right. He opens his door and invites in the next person he’s supposed to meet with. Gesturing for you to sit down.

“Please, have a seat”

He takes a seat across from you, the golden light from the sun casting a heavenly glow. Fyodor looks angelic. It's hard to not immediately start begging for mercy. Suddenly feeling like you are unworthy of being in the presence of his divinity. Fyodor starts off.

“What can I help you with?”

You hesitate to speak, unsure if this is even something you could ever admit or speak out loud.

“Father… I’ve been having some strange thoughts and feelings.”

Fyodor hums softly, thinking. His voice is soft and reassuring, representative of his care for your wellbeing.

“Strange in what way?”

You hesitate. Can you really say this? Would he report you? While you’re taking your time considering what to say, Fyodor interrupts.

“I notice you are being awfully quiet. This is a confidential conversation, nothing you could say would make me think of you as unworthy or strange. I am a servant of God, sworn to secrecy. Everything said in this room is between you, myself, and our lord and savior.”

With that reassurance, you take a deep breath. Fyodor is looking at you with such kind eyes. It’s hard to not to get distracted. How do you even word this? What can you really say?

“Father… I’ve been having thoughts about murdering my mother.”

Fyodor's face remains unchanged. He almost doesn’t look shocked. He sits up straight and speaks in the same soft reassuring tone. It’s eerie.

“I see… Why is that?”

Old painful memories flood your mind. Your mother choosing her new repulsive boyfriend over you. Your mother isolating you from friends and family. Making you kneel on rice for hours at a time. Inventing new barbaric punishments just for you. She had never put as much love and care into anything, as she did torturing you. Being an adult now, you wrongfully believed that she would let you live your life. But that is not the kind of person she is.

"She's cruel and vindictive, I hate her. She's never cared for me in my entire life and I can't leave. She takes my money, traps me, beats me when she’s angry and drunk. I have nowhere to go. I've given up on my life, but if I can make her suffer one last time I think I could die happily."

Fyodor remains abnormally calm. It feels like the calm before the storm. You should've kept your mouth shut. What the fuck were you even thinking? Obviously that's not okay to say, why are you even here? For him to talk you down? Your legs are shaking. Although Fyodor is gazing at you tenderly, it's like he's looking right through you. Like he can read you.

"And you believe that this is the solution?"

You feel trapped. Breath hitching, your eyes start watering. You try to speak up but your voice is shakier than you expected. Why is it so shaky?

"I don't know what to do, Father."

He slowly stands up, making his way around the desk. You take a deep breath, readying yourself for what he might do. Maybe he'll restrain you and report you. But before you can let your thoughts go wild, he reaches out for your hand. His skin is cold, but it curiously makes you feel warm. It's like a shock to your system.

"I'm sorry that happened to you"

At those six simple words, you break down. No one in your entire disgraceful, miserable life had ever given you an ounce of genuine kindness. He gently wiped the tears from your eyes. You didn't even realize you had started crying, your throat and eyes were burning. There was a big lump in your throat.

"Do you not think that instead of doing something so horrible, so sinful, maybe you should turn to god?"

You pause at those words. Is that even a real choice at this point? This is a cry for help, you aren't looking for a god to follow. What use is he to you? God is the reason that you've had such a dreadful life.

"I have never seen you come to mass before, so why are you here? Is it because deep down you are hoping for god to save you?"

Taking a deep breath you try to calm down.

"I'm not a follower, I would never do that. God is the reason my life is so awful."

His eyes narrow. Fyodor's gaze is piercing and chilling. He takes offense to you talking about his deity in such a blasphemous way.

"I know you may feel that this is our lord and savior's fault, but that could not be further from the truth. This is the work of the devil, and the devil alone."

Shaking your head, you refuse to accept it. Is God not supposed to fix this? Is he not supposed to be all knowing? How could he allow this to happen in the first place? What did you even do to deserve this? Fyodor notices that you're deep in thought.

"I am sorry to be the first to tell you this, but you are not as innocent as you think you are."

His voice is much colder than it was before. It makes you shiver and tense up.

"All human beings are sinful. Do you not think it is better to acknowledge that and ask for forgiveness from our Father? What happened to you was unacceptable, but is the solution really to victimize yourself and act so foolishly?"

You were stunned. Looking up at Fyodor, who towers over you. He's so tall and imposing, it makes you feel small. He's so cruel. You had done nothing and now he was trying to make you feel guilty? Who does he think he is? You stand up angrily, deciding you don't have to take this.

"I'm leaving."

Fyodor raises an eyebrow.

"Please, sit back down. I understand that this seems harsh but violence is not the answer. Why are you even here?"

"I'm not sure."

Fyodor hums softly. Sitting back down he reaches over to his vase, taking a hold of a white rose, looking deep in thought. He gently runs his slender fingers over the petals and then holds the rose out for you.

"This is my offering to you."

You furrow your eyebrows, confused.

"What? A rose?"

Fyodor chuckles softly.

"Yes, a rose. But I am not only offering this rose, I am also offering you a chance to start over. So that you do not have to go back and see your mother."

You stay silent, completely bewildered.

"Why?"

He tilts his head, he looks almost baffled that you would question him.

"I am a servant of God. It is my job to help those in need, but in exchange I would like for you to start coming to church. I would like for you to at least try and follow the word of God."

You sit back down, considering the offer. Could he be telling the truth? This seems too good to be true. Fyodor notices your hesitance to take him up on this.

"I will provide you with a place to sleep and help you find employment. I am a well known priest around here, I promise this is a genuine offer."

He holds out the rose for you again. You finally accept it, nodding.

"All right then. I’ll take you up on it."

He smiles at you softly. As your fingers gently close over the stem of the rose, one of the thorns pricks you, drawing blood. You gasp softly, letting go of the rose as it falls to the ground.

"Are you okay?"

Fyodor looks concerned, taking your hand in his gently and inspecting the punctured finger.

"It is only a small cut, I could fix you up easily."

You look up at his face, noticing the kind look in his eyes. He's so ethereal. Delicately, he pulls your hand closer, cleaning the blood up and bandaging your finger.

After this, Fyodor shows you around your new living quarters and helps you get a job. He requires you to come to mass at least three times a week and have talks about how things are going afterwards.

Getting away from your mother wasn't easy. She was always watching you, looking for mistakes or something that may be off about you. Eventually, you finally saw a chance when you could leave without her noticing.

Since that fateful day, your days have been spent surrounded by ornate golden walls. The high cieling of the church make you feel like a small bug, crushed under the weight of God's will.

Fyodor has helped you see the mistakes in your thinking patiently. At first, you didn't even want to admit it but it was true that you're a sinner. However, God could cure you. He could forgive.

At this point you hardly ever spent any time outside of the church. Right after work you went inside that large, lavish building, repenting for your sins and working on your relationship with your lord and savior. Fyodor had even started planning for your baptism soon after you made the deal with him.

Spending so much time around that mysterious man, made you feel even more captivated with him. What is his story? Was he always like this? His eyes are so kind but so empty, there's something so off about him. Despite the bad feeling in your gut, you couldn't help but like him more. Whenever you would walk into his office, it was always beautifully decorated with white roses, fresh, blooming and shining in the sunlight. The bookshelves along the walls are always full of vintage books, smelling like parchment and wine. His demeanor is always serene. He would just sit there and listen to you, never once trying to interrupt you.

You came to appreciate his advice, he seemed to be on a higher plane of existence than you. In a way, he was your savior. Whenever he looked at you now, you could feel your cheeks warm and your hands get clammy. Disappointing him would be devastating.

It's night time now, about six months after you first met Fyodor. The church was completely empty at this time. Soft glowing moonlight is sparkling and radiating off the gold and stained glass decorations inside. Fyodor decided to sit on one of the pews at the front, admiring the large crucifix behind the altar. It fills him with a sense of pride. Pride to be one of the Lord's soldiers.

As you walk in, you feel uneasy. This is a building you love, with a man you care about inside, but it feels so cold… so isolated. No one else is here. It's just a big empty building. You can't help but notice how exquisitely it's decorated, compared to your cheap clothing. It doesn’t look like you should ever even step foot in here.

Sitting down next to Fyodor, he smiles at you softly.

"I haven't seen you in a while, Fedya."

"It has only been a few days."

Shrugging, you take in his appearance. He's still wearing his white baptismal robe, contrasting with his dark shiny hair. He looks so pure, so divine, it's hard not to be completely enchanted.

"A few days is too long. You're my only friend, you know?"

He hums softly.

“Do you need anyone else anyways?”

You go quiet for a few seconds, thinking.

“I guess not, I like spending my time at the church with you anyways.”

He slowly stands, walking up the stairs to the altar. You stay sitting.

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer, standing in front of the crucifix, facing you. He pulls a chalice out of the communion table, filled with red wine.

“Come here, we may as well enjoy ourselves while you are here right?”

Your eyebrows furrow, letting out a little chuckle.

“Are we even allowed to drink from it under these circumstances?”

Fyodor tilts his head, almost offended that you would question him.

“Does it matter? Do not tell me youre scared.”

He pauses, sighing softly, noticing your hesitance.

“It is fine, you will not get in trouble for it.”

With that reassurance, you walk up the steps of the altar and stand next to him. He holds the chalice up to your face, intending to feed you the wine himself. Your cheeks flush, feeling babied and embarrassed.

“Can’t I drink it myself?”

He shrugs.

“Just drink, it is not a big deal.”

You nod, leaning closer and taking a sip. The metal of the chalice feels cold on your lips, while the wine makes your throat and stomach feel warm. Fyodor tilts the container up to help you drink more. Once you drink about half of the wine, you lean back, cringing at the disgusting taste of alcohol.

“Wine is always so bitter.”

He chuckles at your reaction.

“You are such a baby, it is not that bad.”

Without hesitation, he gulps down all the wine that was left over. His pale cheeks grow pink from the alcohol, and of course, you can’t help but point it out.

“You’re blushing, you know that?”

“So what? At least I can handle my alcohol.”

Suddenly, it’s not so funny anymore.

“Hey, I can handle it just fine!”

He chuckles quietly, gazing into your eyes. His stare is so intense that you grow silent and still. The effects of the wine are now messing with your head. Your eyesight grows fuzzy and your muscles feel heavier.

You can’t help but stare at him, he’s so handsome it’s unreal. The tension in the room thickens. Fyodor reaches up to gently brush your hair behind your ear. You gasp. His touch is electrifying. It feels like your skin is on fire where his fingers brushed against the shell of your ear.

“Is something wrong, dear?”

Your eyes widen at the pet name. Were you really close enough to be this affectionate? It felt too intimate, it felt wrong. You look around the empty room, suddenly feeling guilty. What are you even doing here? You’re not supposed to be here, you don’t belong. You’ve never belonged anywhere. Not at home with your mother, and especially not in a place so sacred.

Fyodor places a hand on your shoulder, making you flinch.

“What is wrong?”

Shaking your head, you sigh softly.

“Nothing… I just…”

You pause for a few seconds, trying to articulate your thoughts. Fighting against the haze of the alcohol, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth, making you slur your words.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

When you finally look back at Fyodor, he looks concerned. There’s something so angelic about him that it’s hard to not immediately lean in and kiss him. He looks genuinely confused, as if its unheard of for you to be undeserving.

“Why is that?”

You hide your face with your hands, sheepish and uncomfortable.

“I’m not a good follower of god… I… I don't belong here.”

Fyodor takes a step forward, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. It feels too close, but instead of shaking it off and backing away, you let him.

“Come on, let us sit down.”

He leads you over to sit on the stairs in the altar.

“Dear… Why do you not think you belong?”

You pause. Can you even admit this? This is wrong. You have thought worse things and he knows it, but this is different. This time it involves him.

“I’m a sinner…”

He looks at you like you’re stupid.

“So is everyone.”

This is so frustrating. He doesn’t understand.

“Fyodor… Do you ever think we’re too close?”

“Why would I think that?”

Your hands clench, grabbing onto the skirt of your dress.

“You’re a priest… you should act like it.”

At that, Fyodor's eyes narrow. He takes offense to the suggestion that he isn’t acting in a godly manner.

“Explain yourself.”

His tone is sharp, he’s clearly unhappy because of you. You grow nervous at his anger, fidgeting with the sleeve of your jacket.

“I just mean… I don’t mean to offend you or anything… but you called me ‘dear’ and I feel like we’re getting too close…”

He still seems peeved that you would suggest he isn’t doing his duties properly, but his gaze softens a great deal.

“I see… Well, you do not have to worry about that. We are friends, are we not? In fact, I am your only friend.”

You nod. It felt embarrassing to have him casually talk about how lonely you are. You really rely on him for everything at this point.

With everything finally calming down, you both sit silently, looking out at the dark empty church. It isn’t awkward. Fyodor is someone whose presence you can enjoy even when you’re not talking.

Slowly, you both grow closer and closer. Maybe leaning your head on his shoulder is too intimate but you can’t seem to care anymore. Fyodor doesn’t seem to mind and the wine is messing with your sense of balance and judgment.

Fyodor’s hand slowly slides from your shoulder down to your waist, pulling you closer. You suddenly feel too warm in your own skin. You feel restless but you don't dare move from where you are.

Looking up at him, you notice he’s already looking down at you, studying your expression, looking at your features so lovingly. The tension in the room rises. You don’t know what to do, but you don’t want to look away. You can’t let this opportunity pass.

“Fedya…”

Your voice sounds much softer and weaker than you thought it would. It’s clear you're nervous, even to yourself, and especially to someone as receptive and smart as Fyodor. Your heart is racing. You can barely even speak. A warm, heavy feeling pools in your stomach.

“Yes, dear?”

The pet name makes you feel warmer and causes your skin to prickle. You sit up, you’re so close now that his breath is fanning over your face.

“Fedya… I… love you.”

Those words hang in the air, echoing throughout the vacant room. Fyodor doesn’t react. After a few seconds, his gaze travels down to your lips before looking back at your eyes again.

“I see…”

He looks away. Your stomach drops. This can’t be. Did you read things wrong? Why were you so stupid?? Your eyes are starting to water, even your nose is burning. This is so embarrassing. How could this happen??

“I am truly sorry… I-I think we had too much to drink.”

His voice is soft and understanding.

“I am a part of the clergy, we are not allowed to be in relationships.”

Despite the reasonable explanation, you feel upset. After all, emotions aren't rational are they? You can't even look at him anymore. The humiliation is too much.

“Please dear… It is not your fault, but the Lord comes first to me. I would never do anything to jeopardize my position.

He notices your expression and body language, pulling you into a hug. You can’t help but break down. The embarrassment and guilt finally catching up with you. You just wanted to be loved. Is that too much to ask? Even when you thought you had a connection, of course it had to be with a man who is unable to return those feelings.

“You are beautiful, you have a great personality. I am sure that one day, you will find someone who can love you back, but that person can not be me. With time, these feelings will pass.”

After a while of Fyodor comforting you and holding you close, you finally calm down. You both sit quietly. Even with the rejection fresh in your mind, even with your heart feels like it’s been beaten and abused, you can't find it in yourself to hate him. You should’ve known this would happen.

Fyodor and you sit silently. He reassures you that this has nothing to do with you, and after a while, he leaves. You sit alone in the dark empty church, feeling much more alone than when you first came in.

You decide you can’t just let your friendship with Fyodor wither away. So you stick around, still talking and enjoying each others company as always. When you next visit Fyodor's office, you notice his vase lacks the same bright white glowing roses. Instead, they have all wilted and dried up.

[help-itrappedmyself]

Tim Drake Vacation 2

Masterpost

Keeping himself from running into danger is easier when the supers have everything under control. Now though… Tim, is resigning himself to the fact that civilian--him may have to do something soon. 

     He and the entire contents of the coffee shop he was in have been taken hostage by someone-who-is-totally-not-Lex-Luthor. They were taken to a warehouse to be held as bait as totally-not-Lex waited in a new robot suit for Superman to show up. And, sure, Tim can't see inside the robot or anything. The voice is disguised, the figure is completely concealed. But that’s totally Lex Luthor. He has experience in this, that he absolutely cannot tell anyone about.

     Lex, as a bad guy, really isn’t so bad during phases 1 and 2 of his evil plans. Lex tends to want Metropolis to like him, and he doesn't have anything against civilians, so he doesn’t go around shooting people, just making threats until everyone complies. However, once phase 3 starts, Lex does not care about the hostages. They have served their purpose, and if they die after the Super(s) arrive, it is the Super(s) fault for all the collateral damage. Honestly, the Super(s) should be better at saving the hostages if they truly are here to help people. So, when Superman breaks into the warehouse, which Tim can only assume is lined with lead so he can’t see inside, it is up to the civilians to not get hit by the rubble.

     As the fight started, Superman went straight for Lex. Kon came only a second later to start assisting the hostages. Tim was helping some people dodge the plethora of debris being caused by the main fight. He was helping a few injured people make it to the exits. He was helping where he could while trying not to be noticed by absolutely anyone. 

     Luthor, of course, brought out some kryptonite. And instead of using it against Superman, he wanted to make sure Kon couldn’t leave while Superman had him distracted. Luthor went after the only Super helping civilians, bringing out the kryptonite while Kon was flying past him. Kon went down hard and Luthor just put the kryptonite on his chest and left him there to get back to his fight with Superman. 

     Now Kon is pinned by kryptonite, and Lex is attempting to do the same to Superman. The other hostages managed to escape as soon as Lex became preoccupied with Superman again. And Tim has realized he is the only one left in the building who can get that kryptonite off of Kon. Superman can’t do it without being incapacitated himself, can’t use his powers to do it without risking hurting Kon. Lex simply will not, for reasons. And that just leaves Tim. 

     Tim, who makes eye contact with Kon as he is figuring out what to do. Kon has just realized that there is still a civilian in the building, and he gestures at Tim to go, trying not to draw too much attention. But Tim can’t. Tim can not risk Kon dying again. 

     Tim remembers each time he has lost someone. Tim remembers trying to clone Kon again just to get one of them back. That horrible realization that even if he manages to create a clone. It wouldn’t be Kon. Nothing could make the real Kon come back just like nothing could make anyone else come back. That switch between bargaining and depression. He remembered that depression. He doesn’t think he could live through it again. Especially given the state of his supposed ‘support system’. Not that they’d been much support last time. 

     Tim can’t leave, so he runs over instead, grabbing the kryptonite off of Kon's chest. He could throw it, but he is only human and even having it in the vicinity could be bad for Kon and Superman. He doesn’t know how the fight will move, or if Lex will be able to use it again. He has to take it with him. Personally make sure it gets far away from the fight. He gives Kon a quick smile as he starts running to the exit.

[heavenlyysstuff]

A Sign From Eywa.

NETEYAM.s x avatar!fem!reader

summary , your first encounter with a na’vi.

a/n , older Neteyam. Basically Jake and Neytiri all over again, this is the first time humans have come to Pandora. Jake is full na’vi in this.

Italics is speaking na’vi

It was just a few hours ago you were in the safety of the lab, where multiple avatars just like you were waking up. You didn’t plan to be out so long, you were just sent to gather some samples with some scientists before you shortly got separated.

And now here you are.

Silence is even more common now, with the lack of yelps and grunts from his attack, all you could hear was the distant sounds of the forest, and the burning wood of your makeshift torch. You take a step to reach for it, but he gets there first.

The second the flame is in his hand he tosses it into the river stream, being rid of your only source of light.

“Hey, What are you doing?!” You speak the first words, wary to be quiet. He turns to you, looks you up and down before grunting and storming of.

“I…wait!” You whine, taking some quick steps to catch up, now only just behind him.

“Do not follow.” He keeps walking.

“What?” You utter in almost disbelief, “…You saved me back there, thank you.” You refer to the small creatures that almost resembled rabid dogs.

He huffs before halting his walk, you collide into his back but quickly take a step back as he turns around, “Go away. Your fault.”

You stutter on your words for a second, “My fault? They tried to kill me!”

“Your fault!” Emphasising his words as he furrows his eyebrows and looks you in the eyes, they soften for a moment, but too quickly for you to notice.

“…alright, sorry, for whatever I did.”

“They did not need to die. You’re like a baby, making noise, don’t know what to do.” His tone remains stern, you feel like a little kid being scolded.

“We’ll if you liked them so much why’d you save me?” You sas back.

He straightens his posture, processing your words, “why save you?”

“Mhm.”

He’s silent again for a moment, and his face slowly softens when he looks to you again, “you have a strong heart.”

Your stance relaxes, taken back by his sudden kindness, but just as quickly as the compliment came,

“But stupid. Ignorant like a child.” You huff, can’t help but quietly laugh, covering your mouth as to not seem so rude. He rolls his eyes and starts to speed walk away once again.

“Hey wait!…” you jog to catch up as he starts to walk across a trees root that stands high from the ground, you don’t have time to hesitate as you only care for his answer, “if I’m such a child maybe you should teach me.”

“No, sky people cannot learn, they cannot see.”

“Then teach me to see!”

“Impossible.” He doesn’t stop his stride.

You stop for a second as you nearly take a wrong step, but immediately get back on your feet to follow him. “Hey, where’d you learn English? A school?” Your the closest you’ve been to him as you nearly fall backwards off the side of the roots.

His hand grasps bicep and makes you steady, “you’re like a baby.” He curses under his breath, finally standing still.

His eye are only held on yours for a moment before a glow above takes his attention, you follow his gaze.

Small white wisps lower themselves towards you, hovering over your shoulders and head, you flinch at the unknown creature, but the male steadies you again, “stop!… Atokirina’…”

His hand relaxes on your arm, “Atokirina’…” you visibly calm down at his infatuation with the floating creatures, as more come and hover over your arms.

Your breath shudders, quickly glancing at him then back at the wisps, “what are they..?”

“Seeds of the sacred tree, very pure spirits.” He takes his time with the answer, clearly admiring the creatures as they slowly part from you.

When they all depart into the darkness of the forest, you turn back to the male, “what was that about?”

His eyes dart to yours as you break him out of his trance, “follow.” then rushing to grab your forearm to pull you with him, “come!” He ushers.

You follow him for what is really only a few minutes, “where are we going?” You shout, he’s much faster than you.

He doesn’t stop to answer, not turning to face you, just continuing to run to the unknown destination. “What’s your name?” Another question as to get an idea of who exactly you’re travelling with, he still doesn’t answer.

Just as your look up from your feet and up to him to continue following, a bundle of rope with rocks gets thrown harshly to your ankles, tripping you and ultimately making you fall off of the platform to land on the ground.

“Shit!” You hiss in pain at the fall, You don’t see it, but the male who had been guiding you turns to see your state and hisses in realisation, turning around to come get you.

When you untangle the ropes around your feet, you look up to see a group of… horses, or creatures that somewhat resemble a horse, they are all mounted with Na’vi.

You quickly stand up, turning to escape through the glowing bushes when another Na’vi emerges from it, armed with a bow. Even more make their presence known as they all come out from hiding and aim at you.

They all form into a circle around you, and at this point you can’t do anything but surrender, putting your hands up to show it.

The male Na’vi you acquainted with jumps down from the high branches, grunting at the landing, then looking towards his people. “Mawey na’vi, mawey!” He shouts in sternly, and the people don’t pay too much mind to him.

Until a female gets off the horse creature, her posture confident and face stern, “what are you doing, Tso’ha.” The male grunts.

“Demons are not aloud here. You know that.” The female states. You note her importance to the people around her as they look to be following her every command.

“There has been a sign.” He sates back. “This matter is for the Tsahik to deal with.”

The woman stays silent and looks to be processing the information, even if you don’t know what they’re saying, you feel like she isn’t going to be so violent now, and you note yourself to thank the male when you get the chance. “Bring her.” She says to the na’vi. And suddenly your arms are being grabbed by the many people, forced to move forward.

You quickly look towards the only male that you had known, he doesn’t spare you a glance that you can see, he rushes in front of the people that manhandle you as the horses gallop to lead the way.

It’s not long before your arms feel numb against the harshness of the grip the na’vi have on you. You groan at the lack of hospitality. But thankfully it looks like you’re close to the end of your long journey as the na’vi lead you under the large form of a tree, this looks like the entrance.

Once you look up, you see a crowd of na’vi, they look towards you in curiosity and you finally feel the sets of hands on you release. You rub your biceps and hiss at the pain.

You still feel your long briad being held behind you, also sensing a knife close to your neck, it’s probably best to stay calm.

The crowd of people makes a clearing around you and the male in front of you. For some reason your glad you have someone you recognise, even if you don’t truly know who he is, he still brings some comfort.

“Sir.” He says, with a tone that you recognise to be calm. He brings his hand up to his forehead and then down.

Another, older male comes closer towards you. Circling you for a moment, you bow your head slightly in respect. This male must be a higher up, you assume when you scan his attire.

He backs away from you, walking up to the na’vi that had brought you here in the first place. “What is this, Neteyam?”

The male only a few feet away from you exhales, looking towards the ground, “I was going to kill her, but there was a sign.”

“I have said that demons are not aloud here.”

He signs once again, slowly turning his face to see you. “My father is deciding weather to kill you.”

“Oh, great.” You whisper to yourself sarcastically. You look around you to distract yourself, but a strong voice pulls you out of the trance.

“Step away, I will look at this alien.” A woman yells from above, walking down towards her people. Based on her clothing you assume she is also in higher power. You also can’t help but notice how pretty she is, is she and the other higher up male together? They seem like they’d be a perfect couple.

When she finally reaches you, she circles around you just as the man did, grasping your long braid for a brief moment which makes you shudder, as well as twirling your tail. The she stands in front of you. “What are you called?”

She makes you feel nervous, somehow, being in her presence makes you feel intimidated. “Y/n.”

She takes in your appearance, seemingly looking over your clothing in disapproval. “Why have you come here.” She demands

“To learn…”

“We have tried teaching sky people before, it is hard to fill a cup that is already full.”

“Oh trust me, my cup is empty.

“What are you.”

You hesitate, trying to come up with the best answer, “I was in the navy… a warrior, of the… beetle clan.” They don’t exactly pick up on your small lie.

“A warrior? I could kill her easy!” You recognise the female from before, you don’t know what she said but you have a feeling it’s a retaliation against your words, how did she understand that? You hear a few yelps of agreement form other na’vi, but it’s shut down by the higher up female.

“No. This is the first sky warrior we have seen… we must learn from it.” She sighs, turning to face her son.

“You will teach her. To talk and walk as we do.”

“Why me? That is not fair—”

“Is has been decided.”

The male turns to look at the ground and hisses, his mother isn’t phased.

The woman turns to you again, “Impress me. Or you will be leaving just like the other demons.”

You sigh in relief and bow your head to thank the woman.

It wasn’t long before you were roped straight into the introduction of the na’vi ways, that started with clothing.

You tug and the small bottom of your clothing and are wary with the placement of your top. You’ve never worn something so revealing, but you suppose this would be nothing out of the ordinary for na’vi.

You are guided by the only familiar face into a crowd of sitting na’vi, you try your best to make way through without trodding on any tails.

Finally you sit down, thankfully next to the male you had began to know, he begins eating. “Y’know, I never got your name.” You prompt conversation.

He slows his chewing before swallowing, then glancing to you, “Neteyam.”

“Nateyem…” you repeat to feel familiar with the foreign sounds.

He cringes at your pronunciation. “Neteyam.” He says, emphasising each syllable.

“Neteyam… it’s nice to meet you, Neteyam.” You smile. To be completely honest, you are beyond thankful for his welcome, even if he was a bit harsh, your glad you didn’t die within the first day of being in your avatar.

He furrows the space where his eyebrows would be, and gives a smirk, before returning to his food.

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐊𝐎𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐄

꧁ 𝙆𝙤𝙯𝙪𝙢𝙚 𝙭 𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ꧂

Word count › 2.5k

Rating › SFT

Warnings › none

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＢＥＧＩＮＮＩＮＧ

(Name) was a very outgoing person. Everyone had at least hugged him once—since he was a very touchy person. But he never went overboard.

Most of his classmates always had a good experience with him. It was a shame that his family had to move but (Name) never saw the bad in leaving—he could always make new friends.

Maybe a boyfriend too. He really wanted a boyfriend.

(Name) wasn’t exactly a sports guy. He preferred cooking. His hobbies were more traditionally feminine but he never saw it that way. What he liked is what he liked.

Besides, cooking was a great way to break the ice to new people.

(Name) placed a bag of cookies on each of his classmates desk, stating his name to each person. His classmates either looked surprised or happy. Who could turn down cookies?

When (Name) reached a student with his eyes glued to a PlayStation Portable, (Name) grinned. He wasn’t a gamer but his little sister was. Oh, she’d just love this random guy.

“My sister loves games!”

The guy looked up at him before giving him a curt nod. He looked a bit awkward—he didn’t say anything else before looking back at his console. (Name) took that as him being shy.

“What’s this console called? She doesn’t have it, I might have to get it for her!” (Name) grinned. He knew what it was called.

“Uh, it’s a PlayStation Portable…”

“Cool. I’m Hirai (Name).”

“Kenma Kozume.”

It was silent after that. (Name) hummed, knowing he’d have to try a little harder at getting Kenma to open up. He smiled and placed the bag of cookies on his desk before walking away.

He’d continue trying.

ꕤ

“Kenma!!! What games do you like to play?”

“Kenma!! When did you start playing volleyball?”

“Kenma?! Why haven’t you eaten lunch yet?! Are you trying to die?!”

“Kenma!! I made cookies for you and Kuroo!! Oh, maybe I should make more for the whole team!”

“Kenma—”

Kenma wanted to kill himself. He wasn’t sure how he got (Name) follow him around like a puppy looking for it’s mommy. At first, it was fine. (Name) just wanted to get to know a classmate.

But then it lasted more than two weeks. It’s almost been three months. (Name) was still talking to him. Even his usual self that put off other people was just making (Name) get closer.

(Name)’s voice was now stuck in is head. He was sure just hearing his name could give him a heart attack. It didn’t help that his teammates, especially Kuroo, kept laughing whenever (Name) came to visit him during practice.

“He probably likes you,” Kuroo said.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, why’s that so surprising. No one would do what he does for just a friend.” Lev said, earning a glare from Kenma. When was he invited into the conversation?

Kenma shrugged it off but he did wonder. Did (Name) like him? The first few weeks it seemed like (Name) was stuck on trying to be his friend.

But he did notice how (Name) looked more embarrassed each time he gave him snacks. Like he was scared Kenma would say his cooking was bad or something. Not that he ever would, (Name) was pretty good at cooking.

He might as well just ask.

“Kenma!!!”

“Your boyfriend is here.”

Kenma glared at Kuroo before walking out of the gym to see (Name) holding a box. He waved at him and took the box from (Name), lifting up the covering to see what was inside.

“I know cookies can get pretty boring so I baked an apple pie! Kuroo…” (Name) blushed. “Kuroo said it’s your favorite.”

Oh. Kenma stared at (Name) in shock. He didn’t know what to do. (Name) was really annoying to him in some way but he didn’t hate him. He seemed like a good guy, just didn’t know when to leave certain people alone.

But he didn’t like him. Not like that.

Kenma hummed. “Thank you. I’ll share it with Kuroo.”

(Name)’s smile dropped before he forced a small grin. “Hope you enjoy it.”

With that, he left. Kenma didn’t know why he felt bad. He didn’t like (Name). Did he? Kenma shook his head before turning to go back inside only to see Kuroo looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“The hell was that?”

“Nothing.”

“You should just tell him if you don’t like him. So he can find someone else who does.” Kuroo said, grabbing the box from Kenma and walking back into the gym.

Kenma hated how his heart stung at that. He didn’t want (Name) to focus on anyone else. A sigh left his lips, he hated how confusing his feelings was. At the very least, he didn’t want (Name) to give some other guy the gifts he was giving him.

Was that a romantic feeling?

ꕤ

“Kenma!!”

(Name) had some rough patches with figuring out if he wanted to just be Kenna’s friend or not. He thought, maybe if they went out together without Kuroo, he could figure things out. He found Kenma walking down the hallway during lunch, his head down as he paid attention his console.

A grin appeared on (Name) lips as he skipped over to him, reaching over to give him a high five. But he miscalculated how close he had gotten to Kenma that he knocked the console out of Kenna’s hand.

(Name) tried to grab it before it fell to the ground but that seemed to only make it worse as it instead fell on it’s face than the back. A sickening crack was heard as it slammed onto the ground. It was broken.

No way in hell it could’ve survived that.

“I’m sorry! It was an accident! I would’ve never done that on purpose!” (Name) kneeled down to get a clean look of the damage. He looked up to see what Kenma would say since he hasn’t said anything.

But the look Kenma gave him frightened him. He looked so angry.

“This is all you do, huh?”

“What do you mean…?”

“Ever since you got here, I haven’t been myself. Because I can’t be by myself. You’re always there like a annoying little baby.”

“Kenma….”

“That! It’s always ‘Kenma, Kenma, Kenma’! Hirai, I was trying to be nice and not say anything but if you hadn’t transferred here, none of this would’ve happened!”

“Kenma!”

(Name) just stared up at Kenma with shock. He heard Kuroo say something to Kenma but he wasn’t hearing it. His heart hurt. Was he that annoying? All he could think about was his last friendships.

Did they also hate him but was too scared to say anything?

(Name) whimpered, tears streaming down his face. He could feel the other students staring. It’s but if a big deal with one of the quietest guys in schools gets angry. And he did that.

He brought out something cruel in Kenma.

Maybe he should’ve left him alone.

“Hirai…” he felt a hand on his shoulder, it was Kuroo’s. (Name) glanced up to see Kenma but he was gone. He felt his lips quiver as he turned to look at Kuroo. Kuroo looked a bit embarrassed to say the least.

But mainly as if he didn’t expect that from Kenma. No one was. But (Name) brought that out. He needed to fix his console and then leave him alone. It was the least he could do if he had caused so much inner turmoil for Kenma.

(Name) wiped away his tears and grabbed the console, wincing when his finger traced across the screen. It was shattered. Could he really fix this?

Kuroo tried to grab the console from him but (Name) pulled away, holding it to his chest.

“No. I’ll fix it. It’s my fault.”

“Hirai, it’s not your fault.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kuroo.” With that, (Name) stood up and walked away, hoping no one else could see his tears.

ꕤ

“The hell was that? That wasn’t you, Kenma.”

Kuroo didn’t know what the hell was happening between Kenma and (Name). He was hardly a friend to (Name) but he liked the kid. But to see Kenma just yelling at (Name)—it was hardly yelling but it was a higher volume that Kenma had ever spoken—it made him concerned.

“Was he bothering you that much? I could’ve talked to him.”

Kenma just stared at his wall in his bedroom, sitting down on his bed. He himself wasn’t sure why he got so angry. It had a little bit to due with his losing an online gaming tournament but he wasn’t that angry about it. He couldn’t just put the blame on that.

He didn’t want it to be true but he knew it had to do with what Kuroo had said. Something about (Name) liking someone else. Yesterday, he was going to the cooking club, wanting to give (Name) a gift.

Maybe even ask to hang out but then he saw (Name) with a guy. And that guy was so close to him. He touched (Name) so freely without any care. Pulled him close by touching his waist. (Name)’s waist was so small in his hands.

Yeah, he got angry.

He was too late.

But he stupidly took it out on him. Was feelings supposed to be this complicated? He would’ve been more calm had (Name) not broken his console. It just all slipped out.

“My console…”

“Your console? Seriously?”

Kenma looked over at Kuroo. He had forgot he was even there. “No. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Are you going to at least apologize?”

Kenma simply hummed. He didn’t think he had the right to even speak to (Name). It would be best if they didn’t speak to each other again. He was obviously not ready for anything serious if he acted so childish.

But it hurt. He really wanted to try and have something with (Name). And he ruined that chance.

ꕤ

It had been almost a month, winter break was tomorrow. Kenma avoided (Name) like the plague. Whenever (Name) even tried to talk about what happened, maybe try to put everything behind them, Kenma ran away.

He tried to talk to Kuroo but Kuroo simply said it wasn’t his problem. His volleyball teammates said the same. Lev was a bit more sympathetic and tried to give (Name) some ideas but ultimately said if Kenma didn’t want to talk, he couldn’t force it.

(Name) hated it. If they couldn’t be romantically together, he at least wanted to fix their friendship. It was a bit odd to his other classmates—who thought (Name) would’ve hated Kenma.

But he didn’t. He still wanted Kenma.

He wanted an apology first, don’t get him wrong but he knew Kenma didn’t mean everything he said. Kenma wasn’t that type of person. (Name) was just worried something had to have happened to Kenma that week for him to act so uncharacteristically.

Was it family trouble? Gaming? Did he not have the funds to fix the console when they both heard how it cracked.

It was damaged badly from the fall. (Name) had to visit multiple game stores to find one that had enough confidence to fix it. It was in his bag since last week. He tried multiple times to return it but only got ignored.

“Hirai, what are you doing for winter break?” A classmate, (Name)’s cooking club member, asked him as they began to pack up for the end of the day.

“Nothing really. My aunt is coming over to visit.”

His classmate smirked, “you should come over to my house.” He reached over and tugged at (Name)’s scarf. (Name) simply laughed. His classmate was a touchy person like him but he had a girlfriend.

But to Kenma, he didn’t know that. Which was why he pulled (Name) away from the guy and stormed away, tugging (Name) with him. (Name) followed him but tried to ask what was wrong.

“Kenma! What’s wrong? What happened?!”

“Kenma!! You can’t—!”

(Name) huffed when he suddenly slammed into Kenma’s back. He waited for Kenma to say something. Especially for so rudely taking him away from a conversation.

“Are you dating him?”

“Eh?” But he got no response from Kenma.

(Name) frowned. “Nikimura has a girlfriend… why do you—?” A blush appeared on his face. No way. No way, no way! Was he jealous? He waited for Kenma to say anything but only received a soft sorry before he quickly walked away.

“Kenma!! You can’t just run away!” (Name) yelled at him but that didn’t stop him. He pouted to himself. Just when he thought Kenma was maybe about to apologize and confess his love to him, he cowardly ran away.

“Hirai.”

“Oh, Kuroo!” (Name) watched as Kuroo walked over to him, wondering he saw the whole thing. He hoped not.

“I can take you to his house.”

“Really?!”

“Yea. Your couples quarrel is getting annoying at this point.” Kuroo grinned. “Also, Kenma won’t say what he’s feeling since he thinks you hate him.”

“Let’s go, quickly!” (Name) grabbed Kuroo’s hand and pulled him along.

He was excited. Very excited, he couldn’t hold in his smiles as Kuroo led him to Kenma’s house. He hoped Kenma would take the console back. And maybe, he could get that date he wanted.

Once they reached the house, Kuroo motioned for him to hide to the side. It took only two knocks before Kenma opened the door, a frown on his lips. He looked as if he was crying but (Name) couldn’t really tell. Kenma’s eyes always looked a bit sad.

“Christmas present.” Kuroo smirked.

“What? It’s not even…” Kenma’s voice trailed off as he caught a glimpse of (Name). He looked panicked for a moment, wanting to run back to his room but stopped when he saw the console in (Name)’s hand.

“Here,” (Name) walked over and placed the console in his hand. “I paid to have it fixed.”

“Thank you….” Kenma frowned. “Hirai, I’m sorry. I took my anger out in you. That was wrong of me.”

“It was wrong. But I forgive you. But why did you react that way?”

Kenma blushed. “Oh…. I was, uhm, jealous.. I saw you with another guy. I’m sorry, this is embarrassing.” He pulled the console up to cover his face.

(Name) giggled, reaching to push it down. “You should’ve just asked me. I only like you.”

It was silent as Kenma just stared at him. As if he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. He thought to himself that he didn’t deserve it. That he should’ve had to apologise more. Maybe pay (Name) some cash for fixing his console.

Kuroo coughed. “I don’t have all day.”

“Why are you still here?” Kenma cursed.

“I wanna see how this plays out.”

Kenma wanted to tell him that this wasn’t some kdrama but decided against it. Kuroo was the one to bring (Name) here. He’d allow it just this once.

“I think I like you too…”

“You think?”

“Kuroo!” (Name) grunted.

“Sorry.”

“Then, wanna go on a date tomorrow? I’m free,” (Name) smiled.

“Yeah… yeah, we can.”

(Name) and Kenma smiled at each other. It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off their shoulders. They’d have some things to discuss for a future relationship but for right now, it felt as if things would be alright for the future.

“Are you guys going to kiss now?”

“Kuroo!!!”

╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

╰┈─➤ ＥＮＤ

Showing off my angst chops. I rarely get any requests dealing with sft so I had to do my best

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @chill-guy-but-cooler @kiiyoooo @bokutosproperty @mello-life69

(Ask to be added to the tag list/you’ll be tagged in every fic I post)

Requested by: @creamatedbody

(hope you like it)

[boxboxlewis]

“Hello! Welcome to Self(help), and please do shout if I can be of assistance,” George says, and of course the words are rote but hopefully he also sounds warm and welcoming or whatever. He’s sitting behind the till, doing some online shopping, not really focussed on the customer who’s just come in.

“Do you really only sell self-help books?” the customer asks, and—that voice is familiar. George looks up and nearly falls off his stool, because that face is familiar too: there in his shop, real and breathing and somehow taller than George had expected, is Alex Albon. He’s got giant sunglasses on, and a trendy little scarf around his neck, but as a disguise it’s hardly adequate; Alex is probably one of the most recognisable people in the world, especially since his Oscar win last year. George tries to casually push the hair back off his forehead, and is so distracted he almost slaps himself in the face. 

“Er,” he says. What was Alex’s question? Oh right, self-help books. “Yes, is the short answer,” he says, and then for reasons known only to his frontal lobe keeps talking. “I had a really hard time getting a loan to start the business, because the banks were all like ‘Do people even buy self-help books anymore now that there’s Google,’ but we’re doing really well now, actually. It helped a lot when Brené Brown gave us a shoutout on Instagram, but even before that—er—sorry, you don’t care about any of this, do you. Well. If you need any help—or any self!—just let me know!”

Alex is just staring at him. George does a tight little sorry-I-fucked-up-socially smile, and turns his attention back to the chinos on his computer monitor, heart racing.

Lando emerges from the back of the shop. “George, if I do any more work I’ll literally die,” he says earnestly. Or maybe sarcastically; George doesn’t really understand Gen Z humour, probably because he refuses to join TikTok. “I shelved, like, an entire box of books, so I’m just going to honour myself now and take some time to self-care. I’m going out for a coffee if you want anything.” He notices Alex standing in the middle of the shop floor and flashes him an artificial smile. “Welcome to Self(help), if you take a picture for socials remember to hashtag us!” 

“Flat white,” George says automatically. Lando nods and leaves the shop. He really hadn’t clocked Alex at all, which is surprising at first, until George considers how monumentally self-absorbed Lando is at all times. 

“Is that your employee,” Alex asks. 

“Yes,” George says, “I did something wrong in a past life, it’s very—do you like candles?”

“Candles,” says Alex Albon, who is still very much in George’s shop.

“We’ve got a lovely selection,” George explains.

Alex pauses thoughtfully. “No,” he says, and then, after a long-ish pause, “thanks.” 

George nods.

Alex says, “Look, I only came in here to get away from some teenagers who were taking pictures of me.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” George says, as if that’s a very universal experience that he naturally has shared.

“So I’m just going to—” Alex gestures towards the door, and the road.

“Yes,” George says. “Of course. It was lovely to—er. Encounter you.”

Alex’s mouth quirks up. He says, “It was lovely to encounter you, too.” And then he walks back into the outside world.

George is still dazed about the whole thing when he goes out a few minutes later to get himself a flat white, Lando having arrived back in the shop bearing only a drink for himself (“Oh, shit, I forgot you wanted something… I’d offer to go back out but my legs are really sore now, so…”). He’s not really looking where he’s walking, so it’s jarring but not surprising when he knocks into someone and spills his newly-acquired coffee down their chest. It’s surprising but somehow inevitable when he realises that someone is Alex Albon.

“You again. I’ve got to say, this encounter is less lovely,” Alex says, mopping irritatedly at his sopping t-shirt with his tiny scarf. George joins in, patting with his bare palm at Alex’s chest as if that’s going to help at all, then pulling his hand back like he’s been burned when Alex raises his sunglasses up so he can level George with a look.

“I—sorry! God, right, I swear I’m usually less of a mess”—this is untrue—“but I actually—if you want to get changed, into, you know, a non-drenched shirt, I actually live just over the street—”

Alex exhales, and slides his sunglasses back onto the face. “I’m fine, thanks. I’ll just… go on my coffee-covered way.”

“You can’t,” George says, “think of the headlines—‘Alex Albon in caffeine frenzy’—‘he didn’t realise you’re meant to drink it, sources say’—my house really is so close. We can get you all cleaned up in no time.”

Alex considers him for a long moment. “Give it to me in metres,” he says. And that’s how the rest of George’s life begins.

for @onadarklingplain, who suggested that notting hill au george would own a bookshop that only sold self-help.. nothing has ever been truer!! kay thank you for reading this over & for talking about galex with me 💓

[meganslife]

Pen pals - p. parker (part five)

pairing: TASM! peter parker x reader

TASM! peter masterlist w/ series

summary: you find out that peter is spiderman, and your visit continues with more love and affection than you could ever imagine. (possible tw’s; past-self harm mention, slight panic attack on peters end)

a/n: HI HI HI!! i am so sorry that this came out later than i said it would. vacay was rough and busy. anyway, enjoy!

Peter stares at you like a deer in headlights. You stare right back.

“It’s… It’s a cosplay–” Peter tries.

“Peter.”

He puts all of the food back in the fridge. “I’m preparing for comic-con.”

“Peter, stop.”

“I’m serious! I- I take comic-con very seriously,” Peter insists.

You shake your head, turning away from him.

“Peter, it’s okay. You’re Spider-Man. It’s fine.” You sigh, noticing some blood on his suit. “Are you bleeding?”

He tenses up. “I– um, maybe.”

You grab his chin and inspect his face. He has a bruise forming on his temple, and a small cut on top of the bruise. “I’ll clean you up,” You say, yanking him by his wrist to the bathroom. No other house would have a full drawer of medical supplies besides Peter’s.

“Y/N, it’s fine,” Peter whines. “I just wanna go to bed.”

“I don’t care.”

He scoffs, leaning on the bathroom counter. You start a bath and make it all bubbly and warm. Peter was visibly stressed, and baths helped you, so maybe they’d help Peter.

“Okay!” You clap, “Uh, I’ll turn around and you can… Y’know.”

Peter nods, his face flushed.

He gets into the water, wincing at how warm it is. You ask if you can turn around, and he says yes, but you don’t really know if you’re ready to turn around. The bubbles in the water most likely made it so that you couldn’t see his bottom half… But you’d see enough to make you feel funny.

You slide off your hoodie, and then you realize you’re only in a bra and shorts. Peter notices too.

“Sorry. It’s just hot in here-”

Peter shakes his head. “It’s okay. Can you wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” You nod. He gets his hair wet, going under the water in the process. When he comes back up, he stares at you again. You pretend to not notice as you rub the shampoo into his scalp.

“What?” You laugh, washing out the shampoo. “You’re staring at me.”

Peter shakes his head, smiling. “It’s nothing,”

“No, what is it?”

“It’s an awkward question,” His posture slumps. He’s embarrassed.

You rub his shoulders. “Just ask it. I don’t care if it’s awkward.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

You gulp. “Yeah.” That was an awkward question.

Relationships have been terrible for you so far. The last boyfriend you had was the summer before college started. He was terrible. Super mean, especially about Peter. He didn’t understand how important Peter was to you. Talking about relationships kind of made you feel sick, mostly because no one had ever treated you right. You felt unloveable. Sometimes you worried that you’d die alone and cold.

“You never mentioned one in our letters,” He raises an eyebrow.

“I guess I just didn’t want to talk about it,” You shrug. “They were all mean.”

Peter looks at you, his smile gone. “Mean?”

“I don’t like talking about them,” You look down at your lap. “It’s kind of like re-hashing old wounds, you know?”

Peter doesn’t miss how you briefly look at your arm; the arm is scattered with white scars from old wounds you inflicted on yourself.

“Can you turn around so I can dry myself off?” Peter asks.

You nod, and he barely even dries himself off. You can hear how antsy he is.

The towel was wrapped around his waist when you felt him hugging you from behind.

“Peter, you’re all wet,” You giggle.

He laughs too. “Shh, it’s fine. You’re fine.”

“Let go.”

“Never,” Peter whispers in your ear.

“I’ll scream,” You warn.

“Yeah, right.”

When you and Peter finally make it to his bed, he wraps an arm around your shoulders as he reads. You really want to sleep. But Peter is right there. He’s warm and soft. He sets his book down and takes his glasses off when he feels you cuddling up to him.

“You tired?” Peter asks, smiling.

“No,” You murmur into his neck.

He rubs your back, making you even more tired.

“Do you wanna see my webs?” He whispers.

You shake your head. “Show me tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

~

When Peter wakes up, he’s alone in his bed.

He groans, stretching. He heard the shower running, and you singing, and he smiled.

It was already day two of your visit. Peter never wanted it to end, no, the thought of you leaving terrified him. He had already become dependent on your smile to get him through the day. I’m whipped, he thinks as he makes breakfast for you and May.

May emerges from her bedroom with a slight grin.

“Saw you two sleeping in your bed,” She says. “You didn’t have sex, right?”

Peter chokes on his orange juice. He shakes his head with a blush rising on his cheeks and ears.

“Good,” May sighs, “I hated giving you the talk the first time.”

“What talk?” You ask, clueless.

Your skin was all red and slightly wet from your shower. Not to mention that you were only wrapped in a towel. Peter couldn’t form a single thought in his brain.

“Umm,” Peter stammers, “Being safe as Spider-Man. She noticed my latest injuries.”

May nods, tugging at Peter’s ear. “You’re gonna get yourself killed one day!”

You laugh, girlish and loud. Peter watches as you walk away, the urge to tug you back and kiss you is way too primal.

Once you’re dressed and have eaten breakfast, Peter wanted to go for a walk.

It was nice outside. Not too warm, and not too cold. Peter slips an arm around your waist as you walk through Central Park, and you seem none the wiser. He listens to you talk about the latest book you read, because how could he not? You’re beaming and beautiful and so excited about some book he’s never heard of. He thinks he loves you, but he’s not going to think too much about it.

“Was it supposed to rain?” You ask him. “I felt a drop.”

Peter feels one too, along with the guilt of taking you out when it’s about to pour.

“Sorry, bub. I didn’t know it was gonna rain… We can get a cab home if you want,” Peter shrugs, letting go of your waist.

“It’s okay,” You laugh, “I don’t mind getting a little wet!”

Peter’s fingers ghost over yours. You notice what he’s doing, and smile, telling him not to be shy. It was hard for him to not be. When your hand is in his, he feels a little more confident. Secure.

The rain starts coming down, and you mutter something about a paper in your pocket.

“What’s in your pocket?” Peter asks, “You keep digging in there.”

You let go of his hand.

“It’s nothing,” You stop walking to look through every pocket in your shorts. “Ugh, damnit.”

Peter raises an eyebrow, “Okay, what did you lose?”

“Promise you won’t make fun of me,” You whine. “Please. It’s so embarrassing.”

“So much embarrassment for one girl. Just tell me.”

You take a deep breath. “I lost the drawing you gave me.”

Peter ponders for a moment. Did he give you a drawing? He couldn’t even remember.

“Why are you embarrassed?” Peter grins, “That can’t be the right word.”

“Guilty? A terrible friend?” You grumble, hugging Peter. He hoped it was for comfort.

Peter chuckles, hugging you back. The rain is still pouring down on you both.

“It’s okay, lovie,” He smiles, “I’ll draw you something else, okay?”

You nod, still frowning.

Peter knew he didn’t draw you a lot of things. He would make drawings for you, but wouldn’t send them in fear that they were bad. Maybe he’d show them to you soon.

“I bet you can’t beat me to that bench over there,” Peter dares.

A smile spreads across your face. “I bet I can.”

“We’ll see about that.”

You count down from three, and you both start running. Peter immediately starts falling behind, and you can’t tell if he’s doing it purposefully or not. You and Peter’s giggles are some of the only noises around, other than birds chirping.

When you win the race and sit on the bench, he follows close behind.

“Fuck,” Peter gasps, “Why the hell are you so fast?”

Rain is still coming down, but the sun is peaking out. A rainbow is starting to form in the sky.

You blush, “I think you let me win.”

He laughs, still out of breath. “Maybe a little.”

The bench was wet and uncomfortable to sit on. You and Peter were both soaking wet. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, kissing the crown of your head. Peter mutters about something May said before you came; how you would have laughed so hard at her stupid joke. You try to listen, you really do, but Peter’s mouth looks so lovely and kissable. God, you need to get over this crush. Or do something about it.

“What?” Peter finally looks at you, “Is there something on my face-?”

“No. I was- uh, zoning out,” You lie, “Wanna go back home?”

He nods, squeezing your hand. “Let’s go, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl, you repeat in your head.

~

You and Peter get back home and shower, as neither of you wanted to get sick or smell like rain. He watches as you do your makeup afterward, even though you guys aren’t going anywhere.

“It cannot be that interesting to watch a girl do her makeup,” You chuckle.

“Oh, but it is,” Peter says, “I don’t know how you do it.”

You don’t respond, putting your signature lipgloss on instead.

May shuffles past Peter and into the bathroom, she tells you that you look pretty. Peter wants to say something like that, too, but he’s not sure how to word it. “I have a shift,” May says, “I’ll be gone for a while. No funny business, you two!”

“Bye, May,” Peter kisses her cheek goodbye.

You kiss her cheek too, and then she’s gone.

Peter walks off to his bedroom with his face flushed. He’s so annoyed with himself. Why can’t he just tell you he likes you? He could tell Gwen he liked her. He almost hears Gwen’s voice in his head, telling him to go get her. Scoop her up before someone else does. Gwen always knew what was best. God damn her and her wiseness. Before Peter knows it, he’s crying, holding his hands over his mouth and nose to stop the pathetic noises from escaping. He just really needed to tell you. And if you don’t feel the same, then he’ll just shrivel up and die—no big deal.

He pulls himself together before you can notice something being amiss.

“Do you have a roof we can sit on?” You ask, sitting on the kitchen counter.

Peter smiles. “You want to sit on the roof?”

“Yeah!” You beam, “I used to do it as a kid. Almost fell and broke my ankle once.”

“Don’t break your ankle sitting on the counter.”

You scoff, hugging your legs to your chest.

Peter moves around the kitchen. He’s cleaning what doesn’t need to be cleaned-- mostly because he needs to distract himself. You aren’t helping by sitting on the counter and watching his every move.

“So,” You tug Peter’s wrist, “Roof? C’mon, Pete. The sun’s setting. We can’t miss it!”

“It’s not that interesting,” He says, voice monotone. “Usually the same sunset every day.”

“Well, I haven’t been here every day.”

Your determination to sit on the roof almost makes him smile. Almost.

“Fine,” Peter sighs. “If you break a bone, it’s your fault.”

You nod, face flushed, and eyes creased from your bruising smile. Peter worries you’ll get stuck like that; your huge, crooked smile. Not that he would mind you being stuck like this.

When both of you are on the roof, you hand Peter one of your wired earbuds. He takes it and lays himself down on the shingles with you.

“Any song requests?” You smile. That goddamn smile, Peter thinks.

“All These Things That I’ve Done,” Peter says instantly, “You know, The Killers?”

The song starts playing. “I’m not sure that I’ve ever heard this one,” You confess.

Another head aches,

another heart breaks,

I’m so much older than I can take.

And my affection, well it comes and goes

I need direction to perfection, no, no, no, no--

Peter shrugs, smiling. “I need to introduce you to real music.”

You look over at him, face flushed and a little sweaty because of how hot it is. Peter doesn’t look over at you; he’s too afraid. The fact that he feels nervous and shy because of you makes him smile, but it also scares him. “You’re not looking at the sunset,” Peter remarks. You glance at the sunset. It wasn’t that exciting, like Peter said.

“Peter,” You whisper, “I didn’t want to come out here for the sunset.”

He looks visibly confused. You frown.

“Why are we on the roof, then? I don’t want you up here, Y/N, you’ll get hurt.”

You groan, face falling between your knees.

“I like you, Pete,” You say quietly, so quiet that Peter almost misses it.

“What?” He practically squeaks.

“I’m not repeating myself.”

Peter puts his hand on your knee, he’s smiling. “You like me?”

You whine, trying to get away from him. You slide down the roof and onto the porch, Peter watches and follows. When you stride off to the front door, Peter stops you. He yanks you back with a web, his hands going to your waist. “Those were my webs, if you wanted to know,” He smiles, looking into your eyes.

Laughing, your hands fall on his face. The stubble of facial hair against your palms, his pink cheeks, and his stupidly gorgeous brown eyes were so close.

“For the record,” Peter twirls some of your hair around his fingers, “I like you too. Maybe more than like.”

You look away from his eyes, the fluttering feeling in your stomach becoming too much.

“No,” He whispers, “Look at me.”

You shake your head, smiling and squeezing your eyes shut. You didn’t expect him to do anything funny when you did that, but then he kissed your lips, and everything melted.

Peter felt bad that he hadn’t asked first. “Sorry,” He huffs, still holding onto your face.

“Don’t be sorry,” You smile, leaning in and kissing him.

Peter sinks into the kiss, hands roaming around your face and neck. You tried really hard not to make any embarrassing sounds or mess up. It had been a long time since you kissed anyone. Peter didn’t mind, he guided you with pleasure. When he touches his tongue to your bottom lip, you groan. You two were eventually french-kissing on his front porch, still not giving a damn about the sunset.

“We should-” You murmur between kisses, “We should go inside, don’t you think? This is a lot of PDA.”

Peter laughs, kissing the corner of your mouth. He leads you inside and into his room. You have a feeling that you know what’s happening next, and your heart feels heavy. It’s not that you didn’t like Peter. You loved him. You didn’t want to have sex with him, not now at least. And you didn’t want that to be the entirety of the visit.

You couldn’t have been more off.

“Do you wanna go out on a date?” Peter asks, lying down on his bed. “I wanted to take you out before kissing you. The buildup would’ve been nice, you know? But, I just couldn’t help it.”

You stare at him, standing in front of his bed. “What?”

Peter shrugs. “If you don’t wanna go out, that’s cool. I just wanted you to know that I want to be together.”

“You want that?” You ask quietly.

“Do you not?”

That was such a dumb question. Of course, you wanted it. You wanted to be with Peter since junior year of high school when you two first connected and started the letters. It was just a foreign feeling to be wanted for something. Peter was everything you needed and wanted, so why did you feel this nervous bomb in your stomach waiting to explode?

“Bub,” Peter coos, “Come here, will you? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

You walk over to Peter, falling into his arms. “You want to be with me?”

“I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t,” He assures.

“Oh.”

He laughs, loudly and unapologetically, not at you, but more so at the fact that you didn’t understand that he wanted this. He wanted to be close to you and be able to hug your waist. He wanted everything, only if it was involving you. “I think that when Gwen died, I knew,” Peter says quietly.

“Knew what?”

“I knew that she was right. She’d always tell me to be with you, even though you lived so far. The number of times I talked about you was unreal. I love Gwen, obviously, but she was right about you. You’ve always been my person.” He explains, toying with the necklace around your neck.

You smile, warmth pooling in your chest. Peter smiles too, kissing your knuckles.

“What would we do about distance?” You ask, “I won’t be in Queens forever.”

“I dunno. Maybe we just have to go with the flow and see,” Peter shrugs, “I wish you could be here forever.” He hugs you tighter.

You giggle, kissing down Peter’s hairline. His head remains in your chest, listening to your heart and accepting all of the love you were giving him. Peter was euphoric; practically buzzing with happiness.

He loved you, you loved him, and everything was at peace.

~

“Are you sure you’re not gonna go spidering?”

Peter groans, throwing a balled-up shirt at your head. He’s attempting to clean his room, but you’re bombarding him about Spider-Man duties.

“Stop calling it that,” He demands, “And no, I’m not going out.”

“Twitter is very concerned about your whereabouts–”

He snatches your phone from your hand, grinning.

Kissing your head, he says; “I’d rather be with you than doing NYPD’s job.”

“They should pay you for saving New York so many times,” You suggest, blushing from his proximity. You could feel the heat radiating off his face.

Peter pecks your lips, slow and loving. You laugh, pushing him away when he starts to kiss down your neck. “Go away,” You giggle.

“Go away?” Peter laughs, “You were begging me to lay by you earlier. What happened to that, honey?”

The soft hum of music plays in the background. City noises are making the walls rattle. Peter is warm and lovely. You want to stay here forever, you think. Peter and you, forever.