#you are supposed to recognize that it is Bad for them right now. because you are a fucking adult who should have a CRUMB of media literacy
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“one day im going to have to make like a three hour long video essay that's just called In Defense of Helluva Boss” Please do. I see more anti videos than I do with defense ones. Like the ones that say season 2 is terrible even though it’s barely completed and the ones that say Stolitz is a bad despite them barely having a relationship.
no literally i am sick of seeing more anti content than actual appreciation videos but the anti talking point i see most that drives me up the fucking walls is that it's "bAd RePrEsEnTaTiOn," as if that is all that queer people are allowed to have; just the vague nebulous concept of "Rep(TM)." the fact that if a straight character is a bad person then it's just that This Character is a bad person, but if a queer character is a bad person then This Is Bad Representation Of The Community And Is Homophobic. can we not just HAVE characters?? vehicles to tell a story??? tools to craft a compelling narrative??? this is part of why Helluva/Hazbin being adult shows is such a THING because i see this get shut down a lot under the guise of "uhh well just because it's an adult show doesn't mean that it can handle whatever topic it wants however it wants" and like. yeah buddy! that's true! and that's not what this is fucking about!! when people say "it's an adult show" what they mean is that it's made to be engaged with under the assumption that you would know better than to take information to shape your worldview and perception of other real life people from a fucking cartoon! the show doesn't NEED to tell you that Um Hey Guys Just So You Know This Isn't Actually Meant To Reflect How All Real Life Gay Relationships Are because you are an adult who should already be able to discern this.
"bad rep" doesn't mean "characters that are nuanced, morally gray, or just bad people." "bad rep" would be if helluva boss was a show that said "the REASON these characters are in toxic relationships / are bad people is BECAUSE they are queer, or at least directly correlated to that fact." which is. you know. very fucking different than "these characters are in toxic relationships / are bad people because they 1) live in a classist society that actively encourages them to be their worst selves and 2) are extremely traumatized."
#btw when i say toxic i DO mean stolitz but not in like. a 'this is romanticizing abuse !!!!1!!!!1!1!!' kind of way#which is. the second stupidest criticism of this show#like babe did you really watch blitz break down sobbing on his couch and see stolas drowning in his depression cereal and absinthe#and some how come to the conclusion that the lesson you are meant to take away from this is that This Is A Good Thing To Aspire To ??????#their dynamic IS toxic rn!! neither of them are communicating properly and neither of them are getting what they TRULY want#and the whole point of watching this situation (this shituation; if you will) play out#is to be entertained first of all BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY#because you are supposed to go Man This Relationship Status Sucks For Them Right Now I Sure Hope They Can Make It Better#you are supposed to recognize that it is Bad for them right now. because you are a fucking adult who should have a CRUMB of media literacy#god. sorry this is so long#video essay is gonna be four hours at this rate istfg#mine#ask#helluva boss#stolitz#analysis#long post
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Lesson 1: "White Man Painted Black"?
Okay, I recognize that this is a strong foot to step off on! But! If you learn nothing else from this series, if you decide for whatever reason to forsake me: this is the ONE perspective I'd like you to take away!
You may have heard this quote before, when Black fans deride a character design as 'a white man with the brown bucket tool'. On its face, it means exactly what was said. But specifically, what it means is that we recognize that whomever designed the character drew the way they normally draw for a 'default' character in their mind- default usually meaning White/Eurocentric features- and they added a shade of brown within the line art to make that character now 'Black'.
Now if you're feeling defensive, wait just a moment! This discomfort is not inherently a bad thing!
I'm going to use both a 'real world' example first, to show you what your Black fans and peers are seeing, and perhaps you will also understand our discomfort!
(if anyone was curious, my folder for this lesson is titled 'brad' lmao and you'll see why)
(I'll have y'all know that I actually worked very hard to make Blackface Brad look mildly presentable lmao I'm sorry, I'm wheezing, I can hardly breathe looking at him 🤣)
You see how, despite knowing where this was going, and using one of the darkest shades of brown in my Skin Tones arsenal, you still know that that's Brad Pitt? That nothing about his hair texture, his lips, his nose, or really anything other than the palette change... changed? And you can still see that?
It's incredibly hurtful to be told that that's supposed to be you. You know it's not, you know why it's not, but rather than hearing how it makes you feel unseen and what they could do to be better (since they wanted to draw a Black character!), the artist lashes out at you.
And as an artist, you might have worked VERY HARD to do this! That might be a real handsome guy you drew!! But... is he really Black? Did you walk into it with the intention, that you were drawing a Black Character, or did you draw a character that just happened to be Black? It seems like a silly thing, but it matters!
Okay. I just finished laughing over Brad. Now let's get into some more perspective changes:
Now, imagine you drew a character. You want to make her Black, so you change the hair and skin colors. All right! You have your Black character... right?
Changed ONE feature about her? (You should obviously change more than one feature, but let's just go with the simplified example.)
What if, instead of just changing her palette, we changed her:
Hair?
There isn't nearly enough time in the world, let alone in this little scribble and blurb, for me to describe the IMPORTANCE of Black hair in Black character design. There are so many ways to do curls, afros, braids, twists, locs, SO MANY HAIRSTYLES!! Get used to searching in the 3C-4C hair textures!!!! I plan on doing an entire lesson or two on hair alone, but suffice it to say, Hair Texture is thee BIGGEST giveaway that you 'painted a white person Black'- from cartoon styles to realistic! It reveals itself in your writing as well- just based on how your character takes care of their hair, how your describe the texture, how other people might perceive it... it lets me know just how much research was done. Because we can have straight hair! But again, that's a conversation for a whole 'nother lesson so- come back later 👀?
Lips?
I love our lips, I really do. There's a long history of shaming Black women in particular for the way our lips look. So when I see them done in all their glory, it makes me very happy. Two-toned lips vary in shade and intensity, so make sure you're using references if you want to be 'realistic', but it doesn't have to be that hard. Even a little subtle shift like this in the design/story description lets me know that a creator was thinking about me.
Nose?
One thing I've noticed ever since I starting drawing is that... people in a lot of mangas/manhwas barely have noses! I admit, out of all the features on the face, the nose isn't the most important. I think they should be, especially when you want to emphasize that your characters look different! People have different types of noses! I especially want to gear this towards those with a goal of drawing realistic portraits and the like- there, the nose is ANOTHER dead giveaway. There are Black people with aquiline and straight noses- we aren't a monolith- but is that why you drew it? Consider why you went for that nose specifically. That's part of the intent, in all this!
Now, you might be looking at me and going "Ice... this is just character design". To which my answer is: Yes! It is! It feels so basic, and yet if you ask your Black friends/peers how often they've come across this feeling of not being properly drawn/written, from fanart to professionally produced works, it's unfortunately common despite how simple of a concept it is.
I hope that you can walk away from my first lil lesson with new eyes. Remember, it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!
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Mistaken Identities (dp x dc)
Danny had been doing his thing, looking around, making sure he didn't alter anything in the past, minding his own business. Officially, this was supposed to be a trip to gather more blood blossom samples for Team Phantom to study, but he had ended up being a little sidetracked. Apparently though, puritan times made for beautiful forests, sue him if he was enjoying a moment of peace in his otherwise crazy life. So here he was, relaxing for the first time in way too long when this guy just barged into the clearing. Danny straightened up with a yelp which had the guy stopping in his tracks before he turned to look at Danny.
"Be not afraid, child. I mean you no harm," the man said.
Danny squinted as he looked up at the half-shadowed face of the man that seemed vaguely familiar.
"Boy?"
"Uh-" Danny managed as he realized he was supposed to answer. "Oh yeah, no problem, man."
The man tilted his head which directed Danny's attention to his weird buckle-hat. Sobering up as he recognized the clothes from his previous jaunt in the past where Sam had almost gotten burnt at the stake, he mentally congratulated himself for turning back into a human before his nap. He really didn't want to end up trapped in blood blossoms by witch-finders again.
"Are you lost?" The man said, as he edged closer. "Do you require aid?"
The halfa jumped to his feet. "Nope!" Danny said before letting out a nervous laugh. "No aid, I'm all good. Thanks though."
The man opened his mouth to say something before another voice, higher pitched stopped him. "You are back!" A woman wearing a simple dress, with a few birds fluttering around her like a Disney princess approached them.
"Annie," answered the man.
"Come," she said before leading him away with only a glance towards the teenager. The man let himself be dragged away, but not before a last few words. "If you are ever in need of assistance, please do not hesitate."
Danny waved his hand. "Yep. For sure, dude. Thanks!"
Then before the man had turned away completely, the woman grabbed his hat playfully which revealed his face completely to the weak moonlight, and coincidentally to Danny's view. The couple disappeared between the thick foliage as Danny sat, struck dumb with what he had just witnessed.
"Oh my god," he whispered to himself. "That was Bruce fucking Wayne."
Danny had seen enough rag magazines and newspapers with his face printed on the cover to recognize the billionaire for sure. What the hell was he doing in Puritan times? Then, it hit Danny like a brick. Natural portals. They weren't common, or stable and they'd been known to spirit away people randomly. Clearly, they also had some pretty severe side-effects including amnesia considering the old-timey speech pattern Mr. Wayne was using.
There was only one thing for it, Danny clearly had to bring Mr. Wayne back to the present. Not only because it was the right thing to do, but also because a missing billionaire was bound to attract a good amount of attention and if anyone connected this to the ghost zone... Well if the GIW was bad now, Danny didn't want to know what other kind of unsavoury people would pop up if ghosts were better-known. Just imagining the Justice League getting involved was giving Danny the shivers. No, the best thing to do was get Mr. Wayne back to his time and hope he wouldn't remember much of what had happened and wouldn't dig into it further.
Just as he was nodding to himself, he heard a scream coming from not too far away. He transformed before flying towards the noise, only to find the woman he'd seen before with Mr. Wayne being captured by a bunch of men wearing the same kinds of hat.
"She's a witch! Burn her!" He heard someone yell. "Hang her dead!" Someone else said.
This was giving Danny some major flashback to Sam's very own witch burning and without wasting a second, he phased the woman right out of their grips and flew them away from the angry mob.
As soon as he landed and let go of the woman, she turned to him and gripped his arm instead. "You have to help him!"
"Help who?" Danny asked, wincing.
"Mordecai!" she said, her grip tight.
"Is that the man who was with you earlier?" the teenager asked.
The woman nodded before pointing southeast. "He is in the caves, fighting the dragon!"
Danny didn't waste anytime before flying in the direction she had pointed to. Going intangible helped with speed, and he phased through the ground, going straight for the aforementioned cave. He just phased through when he caught sight of Mr. Wayne. As he got closer, he could feel some sort of energy radiating from the man. Just then, the energy started building up and Mr. Wayne started to go transparent. Panicking, Danny did the first thing he could think of and absorbed the mounting energy to himself. It felt like a shot of adrenaline except way, way stronger and for a moment everything blanked out, before the world came into focus again. When he looked around, he couldn't find a trace of Mr. Wayne, but from the energy left over he could tell exactly when he had landed. The Golden Age of Piracy.
"Goddamit!" Danny yelled as he once again felt Bruce Wayne slip through his grasp as he stole away the potent energy from the billionaire's body before it could follow wherever he was going next. First it had been pirates, then the Wild West and lastly it was 20th century Gotham, clearly the natural portal had been all kinds of fucked up for Mr. Wayne to have been dragged from time period to time period. It was a miracle he was even still alive, the poor man! Danny let out a harsh sigh as he parsed out through the information the energy had left him with. This time he'd gotten the information for the two next time-jumps, which meant, Danny could get ahead of this for once and finally catch Mr. Wayne before he could jump again.
With a steadying intake of breath, Danny took out the Infiniv-map and set his destination before he let himself follow through. As he got through he could hear a bunch of different voices, all talking over each other.
"-distortions mean what I think it-"
"-not fair!"
"-time is breaking-"
"-only leave his body once he's dead."
Danny paid no mind as he locked eyes on Mr. Wayne who was lying in Wonder Woman's arms, in a black bodysuit, looking worse for the wear. The same energy as before was emanating from him, though this time it was even stronger. Danny approached carefully, invisible before he put a hand onto Mr. Wayne's chest and concentrated on drawing all the energy into himself. It wasn't like the other times, the flow was faster and he was having trouble staying focused as more and more flew into him. His brows scrunched in concentration, and unbeknownst to him, the invisibility dropped.
All the heroes in the room turned to look at the suddenly appearing white-haired teen who had a hand on Batman's chest. As they stared in confusion, the teen started to glow. It grew brighter and brighter before everyone had to shield their eyes as there was a pulse of bright light that died down almost immediately after. Wonder Woman had to blink the spots out of her vision as she felt the weight in her arms start to shift and let out a groan. "Bruce!"
She set him down and helped him put his head between his knees, as she gently stroked his back. Superman settled on his other side while Red Robin just sat in front of him, still half-believing Bruce was really back.
"What happened?" Bruce mumbled. "The omega radiation, I thought-"
"I'd like to know that too," Green Lantern said before he turned towards the glowy kid who was still blinking his eyes as if to chase away afterimages.
"His energy signature is the same as Darkseid," Raven said, her own eyes having not left the teenager since he had appeared.
"You don't mean..." started Superman as all the heroes turned to look at the kid slowly. The latter finally looked up as if sensing he was the focus of many eyes and cringed as he met the combined stares of the Justice League.
"Yes," Raven answered. "This is Darkseid's son."
#my guy Danny has no idea what is going on#at least nobody's shooting at him#he would still like to know who is that Darkseid guy and why do these people think he's his dad#dc x dp#dp x dc#danny is Darkseid's son#(at least that's what the justice league think)#this is what happens when you absorb unknown energy willy-nilly#it's just not sanitary who knows where that energy could have come from tsk tsk#I just read Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne#so just know this is entirely based off of that#('that' being that period when Bruce was lost in time)#roxpox#roxpoxwrote
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Adam having to take his baby doauther to a meeting with Charlie cuz we (his wife) are away (maybe a spa taking a small break). Like he has this weird thing that parents wear to carry their baby i'm their stomach, his and Lutes mask are off cuz the baby is scered of them, their have this bag full of baby stuff, for the first time on his live tries to avoid swearing (what the ffffff *looks at the baby* fffffFRICK?) just Adam trying to be a good dad.
Father of the Year
(Name) was gone for the day on a spa trip, which was unfortunate for Adam because he had another meeting with Charlie. How was he supposed to be cool and intimidating with a baby strapped to his chest?
There was no one available to babysit their child, which meant the baby was coming with Adam to his meeting. On top of that, their daughter was scared of Adam’s mask, so Adam couldn’t wear his mask. He was cursing everyone and everything as he slunk into the meeting room, Lute on his heels with the diaper bag.
Charlie looked confused when Adam and Lute entered. She recognized Lute, but she certainly didn’t recognize Adam. “Um, hi, I’m supposed to meet with Adam?”
“Yeah, yeah, toots, it’s me.”
Charlie’s jaw dropped. “Adam?” Quickly followed up by, “Who’s baby is that?”
Adam rolled his eyes. “Mine,” he snapped. “My wife is gone today and no one could babysit.”
“You’re a fucking father?” Vaggie asked, appalled. “Enough about the kid,” Adam dismissed with a wave of his hand.
“What about your mask?”
“The baby is scared of it. Now focus. What’s the update on your shitty hotel?” Charlie cleared her throat. “Of course.”
She launched into her spiel, and was interrupted about three minutes in by the baby crying. “Fuck,” Adam cursed before covering his mouth and looking at the baby like the little one could understand him. “Daddy said duck,” he whispered to her.
Charlie heard him and giggled. Adam shot her a dirty look. “What are you laughing at, bit-” he cut himself off. “Mm.” He grunted. Charlie stifled her laughter. Adam scowled. “Shut up.”
The baby kept crying and Lute handed Adam a bottle. Adam unstrapped her from his chest, cradling her in his arms instead. He grabbed the bottle and began to feed her. “Stop laughing and get to your point so this meeting can be over.”
“I never pictured you as one to care about your language in front of kids,” Charlie snickered.
Adam rolled his eyes. “My wife has been up my ass, something about not wanting the baby’s first word to be a curse.”
“Well aren’t you a good dad.”
“Finish your stupid presentation or I’m leaving right now.”
Charlie cleared her throat, finishing her presentation and concluding the meeting while Adam threw a bib over his shoulder and burped the baby.
As she and Vaggie watched Adam, Lute, and the baby go, they exchanged glances. “Who knew Adam had a kid,” Charlie said. “I’m just shocked someone else would marry him,” Vaggie said.
“Still, it was kind of sweet,” Charlie shrugged.
“Sweet? The last word I would use to describe Adam is sweet.”
Charlie grimaced. “Good point.”
Meanwhile Adam was ranting to Lute. “How are they ever going to take me seriously again? That was so degrading, (Name) is fucking taking her with her next time.” “Relax, sir,” Lute soothed. “You’re still perfectly intimidating.”
Adam grumbled. “Whatever.”
His daughter cooed and gurgled and Adam’s anger softened as he looked down at her. “Maybe you’re right. It wasn’t that bad.”
#hazbin adam#adam x reader#hazbin alastor#hazbin angel dust#hazbin charlie#hazbin husk#hazbin vaggie#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel#hazbin lute#x reader#hazbin sir pentious#hazbin niffty#hazbin valentino#hazbin lucifer#oneshots#oneshot
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DPXDC Prompt #108 Part 1
He remembered going to bed in his own bed last night. His own bed in his own room. This wasn’t his room, his bed, or even his pajamas. The body he was in didn’t feel quite right either, almost like it somehow knew he wasn’t supposed to be in it. Part of him wondered if he was dreaming but he was way too self aware for this to be a dream.
This room didn’t look like any of his brother's rooms either. It had a bunch of space themed trinkets, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, and NASA posters on the walls. None of his brothers were into space as far as he knew so this had to be a strangers room. He wondered for a moment if he was kidnapped or something, but that didn’t sound quite right either. He was in a stranger's body so he must be in this person’s room. He had to figure out exactly what was going on.
Just as he was considering his options the phone by the table side started ringing. Damian didn’t really know where the tune came from but it sounded catchy. He looked at the caller ID and while the phone didn’t recognize the number Damian did. It was his own, hopefully he’d be able to get some answers.
“Hello?” He answered.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about all of this. My parents are inventors and one of their inventions backfired big time. I’m Danny” The voice on the other line was his own, a little jarring sure but it to be expected, if he was in someone’s body there was a good chance they were in his body.
“My name’s Damian, Inventions? This is quite the backfire. I hope you have a plan to switch us back.”
“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ve got a couple friends looking into it, they’ll be on their way in a bit to help with all of this.”
Damian was starting to get irritated a little at how this was going. Bringing outside ‘help’ into the situation just seemed more like a distraction from whatever ‘Danny’ had planned for Gotham.
“Right, Damian, so right now you're in my body and I’m in your’s… so, my parents' invention was only supposed to strengthen the soulmate pull, but because of my weird biology. We switched bodies instead.” Damian didn’t have word’s, the whole story sounded ludicrous. But at the same time, Damian couldn’t help but believe it was true.
The weird things about the body he was in, helped convince him and then, suddenly a thought occurred to him. Hesitantly he lifted his other hand up to his neck to check his pulse.
It was unusually slow, “Why’s your pulse so slow?” he couldn’t help but ask. He didn’t want to admit it but he was starting to freak out a little.
“Like I said, I’ve got weird biology. I’ll explain, but it isn’t a pretty story. I don’t really want to explain all of this but since you're in my body, you need to know so you can keep my parents from finding out. Deal?”
Having weird biology still didn’t quite explain things but hopefully a few things didn’t quite make sense, “You said your parent’s were researching soulmates? Why.”
“Alright, I’ll give you this one but seriously you’ve got to promise to keep my parent’s from finding out about things. They were a little upset that I haven’t found mine yet, my sister found hers so they were excited for me to find mine. Long story short, bad things tend to happen when my parents get excited.”
So from the sound of things Danny thought they were soulmates. That might have been true but there wasn’t a good way for them to prove anything at the moment. For now it would probably be better to go along with Danny’s plan. He didn’t like it but he could probably get a lot of information out of Danny’s friends if he played along. “Alright I agree to not intentionally reveal anything to your parents.”
“Work’s for me. What do you know about ghosts?”
#dp x dc prompt#dc x dp#dp x dc#danny fenton#danny phantom#Damian wakes up in Danny’s body#soulmates au#danny and Damian are soulmates#I dissociated hard writing this#Slight dissociation mention#Dissociation warning#I dissociate when I look at myself in the mirror#all my prompts are free to use#my asks are open
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The Signal
Made this using images from Pinterest ^
Word Count: 6.1k
Pairing: Bucky x f!reader
Summary: You and Bucky get separated from the team after an unfortunate mishap, of which Bucky blames you. Except you’re not at fault! You thought… you aren’t too sure anymore.
A/N: Thank you all so much for all of the positivity on my first fic, I am actually BLOWN AWAY. You are all so kind!! I actually started writing this all the way back in February of 2022, but seeing the response gave me the motivation to finally finish it.
Warnings: Nothing absolutely horrible, just a bit of angst and fluff(?), plus a little gaslighting and violence.
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
“Everything is going to be okay. We’re fine. Everything is fine. Everything–” She repeated the mantra over and over again, not quite believing it.
“Will you shut up?” Bucky growled.
Only an hour prior had both of them been sneaking through a dense forest and scoping out a running ex-HYDRA base deep in the frozen woods. Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Sam, and Y/N were used to missions like this, except this one required a higher level of subtlety and a successful sneak attack was critical. Their intel informed them that the base was rigged to blow if any unrecognized technology was detected, including any disturbances in the radio waves. Because of this, they all turned off their communications signals once they approached the range of the base. At least, they were supposed to.
“I’m just trying to keep myself from freaking out.” She grumbled, slightly trailing behind Bucky as they crunched through the brittle layer of snow.
“Why? You should be freaking out. You should very much be freaking out right now. Considering we’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, with no connection to anyone who can help, and I’m stuck with you.” He recognized he was being cruel, but he didn’t have the strength to stop.
“It wasn’t my fault!”
“The sooner you stop lying to yourself, the better.” Bucky responded without even looking over his shoulder. He hadn’t looked at her for the majority of their trek to the nearest safe house since they got separated from the rest of the group by the explosion.
“This is not my damn fault! I turned off my signal, just like Steve told us to.” She struggled to keep up with him, but she wouldn’t tell him that. She couldn’t show him any weakness–he’d just use it against her.
“Except you didn’t!”
“How are you so sure it was me? There were five of us!” She awkwardly jogged to get a bit ahead of him, and turned around to face him as she walked backward. “What makes you think it wasn’t you?”
“Please, like I would ever be so careless.” His gaze remained on the terrain ahead, and it looked like the trees of the woods were starting to thin out, signaling an exit soon.
“And I would?”
“Yes! Yes, you would. I knew from the start it was a bad idea to take you along. You can’t even follow simple instructions like turning off a signal.” He managed to pass her again, leaving her to struggle to stay next to him. He saw out of the corner of his eye her pointing a finger at him.
“I’m trying really hard not to take your attitude personally. You’ve been acting like a dick for the past week, but I’m sick of it.”
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sweetheart?” He finally glanced at her.
“Yes.”
“Why? Is it reserved for Steve?” Bucky’s eyes quickly returned to the path in front of him.
“What are you on about?” Genuine confusion laced her voice, but her question went unanswered as they reached a block in their path.
“Y’know your genius safe house plan?” Bucky gestured to the map balled up in her hand, the thing they had been using to guide them to safety. “Well, looks like we’re here.”
“This can’t be right,” she shook her head, quickly unfolding the map, “maybe we got turned around.”
“Just look up.”
She followed Bucky’s gaze to the sky, at which she finally realized the ridiculousness of their situation. They were stranded at the bottom of a steep cliff, which looked to stand nearly a hundred feet in the sky.
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Because who the fuck puts a safe house on top of a cliff? “There’s got to be an elevator or something, there’s no way we’re expected to climb this.”
They both scanned the base of the cliff, looking for any indication of a secret passage to the top. She ran her hand along the jagged rock and ice, and bit her bottom lip as she concentrated on the wall, eventually spotting a thick rope among a couple vines.
“Shit.”
Her voice gained Bucky’s attention, and he looked over to see her holding not one, but two ropes, each attached to a relatively large weaved basket. It wasn’t quite big enough for the two of them, but one person could definitely fit.
“After you,” he mocked, gesturing to the basket that was meant to work as a (sketchy as hell) pulley system.
Instead of answering, she merely pointed to the inside of the damp basket. Bucky peered his head over to see the bottom had completely fallen apart, leaving a gaping hole where a person would supposedly stand.
“Looks like we’re climbing.” Bucky sighed.
“I can’t–”
“Afraid of heights?” He snapped.
“No, but–”
“Good. Then there shouldn’t be a problem.”
He grabbed a knife from his belt and efficiently cut both sides of the rope from the basket. She watched, dumbfounded, as he took one rope and tied it around his waist. Then, he gave the rope a hard tug, and satisfied by the lack of give, turned to his belt and grabbed three more knives. He grabbed duct tape out of his tac pants, and expertly taped one knife to the bottom of each shoe. Finally, he tossed her the duct tape, knowing she already had her own knives. She watched both impressed and annoyed as he firmly stuck his feet as best he could into the ice and rock of the cliff, and used the other knives in his hands as leverage.
He made it about ten feet up before glancing back down to see she hadn’t moved.
“Are you coming or what?” The impatience of his voice stung almost as much as the cold did her nose.
She looked at him, then the rope, and then the knives attached to her legs, before making a move. Unlike Bucky, her combat boots came equipped with hidden spikes that could be used for climbing (although she had never used them for such activity, and normally used them as a treat when fighting, basking in the pride of catching her enemies off guard with a swift kick and metal spike to the face, groin, etc). She adjusted the spikes to be poking out of the toe of her boots, and tried not to think as she grabbed the second rope and knotted it around her waist.
Ignoring her left hand, she grabbed only one knife opposed to Bucky’s two, and stabbed it into the ice. She cautiously looked down at her feet as she began her climb, and looked back up at her hand as she found purchase a foot above her head. Already exhausted from the fighting and explosion earlier, she winced at the tension in her right arm as she pulled herself up.
At the slow pace she was going, Bucky was already 15 feet in the air by the time she was 3 feet off the ground.
Bucky looked down to see her far behind, and raised an eyebrow when he saw her climbing with only one hand.
“You’re supposed to use both hands, you know?” He mocked.
She rolled her eyes, but said nothing, as she let her left hand join her right hand on the handle of the knife protruding from the rock. Bucky noticed her silent grimace as she successfully pulled herself up to the next level. He continued to watch as she stiffly removed her right foot from the wall and placed it above her left foot, before once again grabbing the single knife with both her hands and pulling for a second before letting out an agonizing cry.
Out of curiosity more than frustration, he called down.
“What’s going on down there?”
She briefly looked up at him before looking back at the ground, “I can’t climb.”
“Missed the training day on it?”
His sarcasm went unappreciated as she growled.
“My wrist is broken, asshole.”
Her wrist is broken, and she’s climbing? What is she thinking?
“And you’re still trying to climb? You should’ve told me.”
“I fucking tried telling you! But everytime I try to say something, you interrupt me! Constantly! Besides, what’s the point in telling you if you’re just going to brush it off?”
Bucky swiftly removed the knives in his hands from the cliff, and held onto his rope, before half-hopping and half-climbing down the wall to the ground.
“Bucky, just go,” she sighed, “I’ll figure something else out. I’m not going to be a burden on you.”
She said it in part because, yes, she didn’t want to burden him, but also because she didn’t want to hear his whiny complaints.
He ignored her protests and gently reached for her left hand, inspecting the incredibly swollen wrist. He winced at her soft whimper. He let go and simply looked at her.
“Hop down.”
She didn’t like that he was ordering her around, but his voice was void of any emotion, and out of curiosity and self preservation skills, she obeyed.
“C’mon.” Bucky turned around so his back faced her.
After a couple moments of silence, he looked over his shoulder to see her face twisted in confusion.
“C’mon now, just get on.” He repeated, squatting down a bit more. “You’re going to have to hold on tight.”
Ignoring the absurdity of the situation, she did her best to climb onto his back, at which point he gently grabbed her non-injured arm and wrapped it around his neck to encourage her to not be afraid to cling to him.
After what likely was about twenty minutes of climbing in utter silence, minus the whipping of the cool wind, Bucky made the mistake of looking down. The good news was that they were almost at the top–probably about a quarter of the climb left. The bad news was that meant that they had already climbed about 75 feet, and despite Bucky’s fearless persona, he was not fearless.
“Fuck.” He whispered.
“What’s wrong?” She rested her chin on his right shoulder.
“Nothing… I just didn’t realize how high up we were.” He grimaced the moment he said it. He’d shown weakness. He’d given her ammo. “Gonna make fun of me now?” He started to shake just a little, and prayed that she would assume it was because of the cold and not his anxiety…even though it had been cold for the entirety of the climb.
“No.” She stated.
His head started to spin from the memories. He tried to push through it, but all he could think about was the first time he was this high up. It was as cold as this too. He felt as his left arm subconsciously twitched.
The first time I was this high up, I still had two human arms.
A sweet voice interrupted his thoughts.
“I think I can see the compound from here.”
It was a stupid joke, but he couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“You know, I’m pretty scared of the ocean.” She continued.
He didn’t respond, unsure of where she was going with this. He continued to pull themselves up.
“Just deep water in general scares me. My brother always made fun of me for it.”
Don’t look down, Bucky. Don’t look–
“One time when I was like–fifteen? I think? My family took a trip to this really big lake. We got on one of those pontoon boats and went out into the water.”
He was glad that she was so close to him, otherwise the whipping of the wind would’ve been too loud to hear her calming voice.
“My brother thought he was really funny, and told me to look over the edge of the boat while we were still in motion.”
He tried to grunt to indicate he was listening, but no noise came out.
“He pushed me right as my dad started speeding up. I fell in, and freaked out. Especially as I watched the boat leave me behind.”
He continued to listen to her and focused on her voice, and the vibrations. Her tone was casual, but he couldn’t help but sense she was telling him a secret.
“Luckily, my mom saw what happened, and got my dad to turn around.” She chuckled. “He claimed he was trying to help me get over my fear. But I got my revenge later that day, so it was fine.”
“What’d you do?” Bucky finally spoke up.
“Well, he’s afraid of peanut butter.” She tried to shrug, despite having one arm around his neck and the other hanging limply.
“Do you mean allergic?”
“No, I mean afraid. The stuff freaks him out. He won’t go near it. He’s weird like that.” She sighed in remembrance, and continued.
“So once we got back to the house I grabbed some peanut butter, and slathered it into his hair when he wasn’t looking.”
Bucky looked up again and was surprised to see how close they were to the top. When did that happen?
“He screamed so loud–it was hilarious.” She smiled. “He ran to take a shower, flailing around and being dramatic. ‘Mom! She put peanut butter in my hair! My hair! Mommy, get it out!’”
Worried that Bucky was judging her, she quickly added,
“He was seventeen at the time, by the way.”
Still no answer.
“I don’t think he’s forgiven me yet.” She whispered more to herself than Bucky, but he still nodded as he grabbed at the top of the cliff.
“We’re here.” Bucky didn’t mean for his voice to come across gruff, but the cold wasn’t helping his throat.
“Thank you for carrying me.” She smiled once she had both feet on the ground. It didn’t reach her eyes, but he could still tell she meant it.
Slightly embarrassed, Bucky attempted to grumble out a ‘Thank you for distracting me,’ but he wasn’t sure she heard it.
Come on, you can do better than that Barnes. Just apologize to her, he thought.
“Listen, I know I’ve been acting like a–”
Bucky’s words were cut off by a mysterious and sudden mangled…shriek?
“Oh my God, Bucky.” She patted his arm to get him to turn around.
He obliged, and his eyes became saucers when he saw what had made the noise.
At the top of the cliff was a partially snowy but also grassy plateau, inhabited by a herd of roaming goats. So, so many goats.
“Look at all the goats!” She gasped.
Right as she had said it, one goat had snuck up to them and started biting at Bucky’s prosthetic.
“Get off,” he quelled his shock and grumbled as he shook the animal off of his hand.
“Aw, it likes you.” She giggled, falling to her knees to pet the goat—more like ‘goats’, plural, because the animals seemed to multiply, and fast.
“Let’s get inside. We need to fix that wrist.”
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
Beside the disturbingly large population of goats, and the absurd location of the safe house, the house itself was fine. Well, it was shaped more like a barn, but it was decorated like a house. After coaxing Y/N away from the “adorable” (her words, not Bucky’s) goats, and inside, Bucky led Y/N to the forest green rug where he had started a fire in the fireplace.
When he finished briefly looking around, Bucky grabbed some ice that had frozen outside the barn and wrapped it in a cloth from the kitchen. With her permission, Bucky carefully placed the ice pack where he saw the most bruising around her wrist.
“So,” Bucky had settled himself across from her, so they could face each other as they talked. He couldn’t help the pang of sadness he felt as she stood up and backed away to sit on the couch.
She wouldn’t move away if I were Steve, he thought, staring into the fire. They’d probably cuddle up together like they do on the couch during movie nights at the tower.
Y/N didn’t want to move away from Bucky, especially now that he was being amicable again. But the heat from the flames was melting the ice that cradled her wrist, and she didn’t want to add ‘soggy’ to her list of problems.
“So?” She asked, noticing Bucky never finished his thought.
“I’m just thinking about the logistics of this. There’s a high possibility we could be stuck here anywhere from a week to a month. Your signal was fried in the blast too, right?”
She nodded, and released her right hand from holding the ice, letting it balance on her wrist, as she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her signal. Definitely fried.
He pulled out his own signal from where he had kept it in his pants pocket, and showed her how it was crushed. “Well, without our signals, our team can’t track us. We just have to hope that they’ll figure out that we made it to a safe house, and that they don’t check this one last. Because I’m pretty sure there are at least two more safehouses dedicated to the vicinity of the Hydra base, right?”
She nodded. “We got unlucky with this one.”
“First thing we need to worry about,” he raised his eyebrows, trying to gain her attention, “is food. I looked at the kitchen pretty quickly and there’s not that much stuff stocked. A couple cans of beans, and such. Not nearly enough for how long we’re going to be here though. So unless we want to climb back down again, and see if we can find any food anywhere…”
She squinted and tilted her head as if she was a confused puppy.
“We’re going to have to kill a goat.” He finished.
Her eyes went comically wide. “I am not letting you kill Cheetoh!”
Bucky shook his head, exasperated, “You’ve already named them?”
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
The longer they were there, the worse the winds got. But that didn’t stop Bucky from hearing the strange overlap of whipping winds, leading him to lean into the noise from his spot on the couch.
“Do you hear that?” Bucky nudged her.
“It sounds like the wind got a lot worse,” She nodded.
“No, something’s off.”
At Bucky’s concern, Y/N got up off the couch and beat him to the doors. She looked at Bucky, who stood directly behind her, before pushing hard to get the sliding door to budge. Instantly the biting cold attacked them again, and she had to place her right arm over her forehead to keep her hair from whipping into her eyes. Everything outside seemed to be an array of grays, until she was able to spot a shadowy figure emerge from the settling fog. A person appeared, as well as a helicopter.
“Sam?” She called, hoping her voice carried far enough to be heard above the wind.
“Y/N! Bucky! Thank god you guys are okay,” Sam called back, and was quickly met by Y/N who had run the rest of the distance to meet him. Bucky was shortly behind.
“I’ve never been so happy to see your face, Sam.” She giggled, setting her right hand appreciatively on his shoulder.
Quickly spotting Steve exiting the chopper, Bucky hid a scowl as he watched Y/N light up and bound over to the bundled up blond, while calling, “Steve!” He wished he had looked away before seeing her pull him in for a hug.
Wanting to distance himself from the interaction, Bucky stood by Sam.
“How did you find us so fast?” Bucky shook his head, and raised his voice, as the wind started to pick up again.
“My signal, man.” Sam yelled back, despite being three feet apart.
“What?” Bucky wondered if he heard him right.
Sam reached into the left pocket of Bucky’s under jacket, and pulled out a small familiar looking device.
Bucky felt a punch to the gut as he suddenly remembered.
The group had just landed the quinjet deep into the forest. They couldn’t land too close to the base and risk setting off alarms, so they settled for a three mile hike away. Bucky and Sam were meant to approach from the north side, while Steve, Natasha, and Y/N planned to approach from the south side, so the group split off after the jet to take opposite round-a-bout paths. It was about two miles left to go when Sam started complaining.
“Dude, does this thing actually fit in your ear?” Sam gestured to the communications device in his hand. “Because it keeps falling out. It’s getting on my nerves.”
Bucky gave a short grunt, which Sam translated to a ‘yes, it does fit in my ear.’
“I can’t,” Sam finally huffed, “I give up. I don’t have any pockets, can you hold this so I don’t lose it?”
Simply wishing for Sam to shut up, he obliged, and shoved the tiny device into his pocket for safe keeping. Neither of them thought to turn it off first, because in their minds, and past experiences, it always stays turned on in the field. Excluding the moments when people turn them off in acts of defiance.
About a mile later, both men heard a small rustling to their right. In hindsight, it was probably just a rabbit, but Sam suggested he go check it out, just in case. That’s what led to the two splitting up, but Bucky wasn’t worried. He knew that if there was a problem, Sam would’ve made it clear immediately. He also knew that Sam knew his way to the base all on his own.
Bucky arrived at his location at the same time that Steve’s voice buzzed in his ear. At this point, the extra signal was long forgotten.
“We’re in position.” Steve’s voice rattled.
“10-4.” Bucky responded.
“Alright, going dark now. Turn off your comms, let’s go.”
Steve’s voice was followed by the soft beep of Bucky’s signal as he turned it off.
He didn’t realize Sam’s signal was still active in his pocket.
“It was just bad luck dude, don’t feel too bad. I should’ve turned it off before I gave it to you, and I shouldn’t have assumed you’d turn it off yourself.” Sam tried to hide his pity with a half-smile.
“I–I was the leak?” Bucky whispered right as the wind started to calm again. He stared at the small device as Sam hid it in the pocket of his own coat. If only Sam had worn that on the way to the base.
“Yeah,” Sam said at a normal level now that the noise had nearly ceased, “but everyone’s safe now, that’s all that matters.” Sam reassuringly pat Bucky’s shoulder twice before looking back at Steve helping Y/N into the chopper.
Bucky let out a short hum, and focused on the ground. He wanted to crush that stupid little signal. He hated the way it made his chest feel tight, and his heart heavy with guilt.
Sam’s voice interrupted Bucky’s thoughts.
“Those are a lot of goats, man.”
Before Bucky could respond, Steve appeared in front of them.
“Hey Buck,” Steve smiled, pulling him in for a quick hug, “I’m glad we found you so fast. Are you injured at all?” Steve pulled back to examine Bucky’s form.
“No, I’m fine,” Bucky swiftly assured, before feeling the throbbing of guilt consume him again, “but Y/N’s wrist is broken.”
“Don’t worry, I know. I already told her I’d take her straight to medical once we get back. Speaking of, we should get going.”
“Right.”
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
Three hours later, the group made it back to New York. As the ramp lowered, Bucky quietly pulled Steve aside.
“I can walk Y/N to med.” He nodded to where she was sitting, staring off into space.
“You sure?” Steve struggled to hide the surprise in his voice.
“Yeah.” Bucky nodded.
“Okay.”
Bucky gave his friend a firm pat on the shoulder before sauntering toward Y/N, who remained in her seat.
“Come on, Y/N.” He held out his right hand, offering her to take it.
“Huh?” She blinked twice, and stared up at him, eyebrows scrunched.
“I’m walking you to med.”
“Oh. Okay.” She paused for a moment before standing up. “So much for being stuck for months.”
“Yeah, I guess that calculation was a bit off.”
“I’m just glad we’re back home. And that you didn’t need to kill any goats.”
“I was going to leave Cheetoh alone.”
“I don’t know if I believe you.”
The rest of their walk was relatively short, but silent, until they reached the doors of Dr. Cho. Bucky didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, as Dr. Cho was given a heads up to Y/N’s injury, and already whisked her away.
Bucky rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet for a minute, until he decided it would be uncomfortable for all parties involved if he stayed. He knew she’d be alright, he convinced himself, so there was no need to be in the way.
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
A couple of the Avengers found themselves mentally recovering in the lounge, waiting for Y/N to get out of her evaluation.
“She’ll probably be out for two months. Broken wrist and all that.” Steve relayed, taking a seat on the couch.
“Two months?” Sam repeated, looking up from his bag of chips.
“I think she’s pretty bummed, so try not to mention it.”
As if on cue, Y/N entered the room.
“Hey guys,” she smiled, waving with the arm that wasn’t in a cast.
“Hey Hon. How’s the wrist?”
“Really, Tony?” Natasha glared at him.
“What?” He feigned innocence, throwing his hands in the air.
“It’s fine guys. It doesn’t hurt that bad, I’m more embarrassed than anything.”
“Embarrassed by what? I think that cast makes you look tough.” Sam added, doing his best to cheer others up as always. “And hey, you and Bucky can be twins now.”
“Yeah, kinda. Look at that Buck!” She lifted her left arm in the direction of Bucky, who had been silently brooding in the corner. The bulk could be seen under the fabric of her hoodie, but she felt the need to emphasize the point by taking the pullover off.
She first tried tugging the sleeve off her cast, but it was a bit too snug. After a couple more moments of failing, she switched tactics to just pulling off the hoodie from over her head, but that got her stuck in an awkward position too.
After a second too long of borderline uncomfortable silence and shuffling, Steve spoke up.
“Do you want help with that?”
“Nope, I got it. Just gimme- a second…”
Somehow she had gotten the garment twisted around her right arm and upper body.
“Hon, just let us-” Tony started, but was quickly cut off.
“You know what? It’s suddenly cold again. There’s a weird draft over here.” Y/N quickly tugged the hoodie back down and gave a weary smile. “I’m going to go to my room.”
She ran off before anyone could offer an opinion. Unsurprisingly, Steve was the first to speak.
“I’m going to go check on her.”
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
A soft knock came to her door.
“Come in.”
“Hey, Y/N.” Steve gave a sympathetic smile as he gently closed the door behind him.
“Hi Steve, what’s up?” She looked fine, but he could hear the strain in her voice.
“Nothing, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” He stood in front of where she sat at the edge of the bed.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just got a little frustrated, it’s no big deal.” She shrugged it off, avoiding his eye line.
“It’s okay to feel frustrated.”
“I know. I shouldn’t though. It’s my fault, anyways.”
“How so?”
She cast her gaze to the floor and swept a hand through her hair.
“Well, I think the whole reason we were ambushed was because of me.”
“What? Why would you say that?”
She took a deep breath.
“After Bucky and I got stranded after the attack, I was sure it wasn’t my fault. But then he started saying things, and they were mean… but he was also right. I started second guessing myself, and I thought about it. I mean, out of all of us, I’m the newest. And I was so sure that I turned my signal off…but now I don’t know. I can’t remember. And if it really is my fault they found us, then it’s my fault that fight happened, and it’s my own doing that this—” she pointed to her cast, “happened. I just feel stupid.”
“You weren’t the leak, Y/N.”
“What?”
“It was an accident. Bucky was carrying an extra signal, and no one thought to turn it off.”
“Bucky?” She looked bewildered, shaking her head at this fact.
“Yes.”
“Does he know?”
“Um…I’m not sure. I didn’t tell him. We never had a proper briefing after the chaos derailed our schedule when we got back.”
“I have to go find him.” Her shock turned to a quiet determination of which Steve decided not to push her on.
“Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you still want your hoodie off?”
“Yes please.”
❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️
“Buck, wait up!”
Bucky slowed his jog around the track to a stop when he heard her voice.
“Y/N?”
“Hey.” She gave him a sweet smile once she caught up, one he felt undeserving of.
“Is there something you need?”
“No. I just had to tell you something.”
“I’m listening.” He nodded, crossing his arms. He didn’t mean it in a defensive way, it just happened.
“First of all, you should know it’s not your fault.”
“What?”
“I just found out how we got ambushed, and I figured I should tell you.”
“Oh.” He fought the urge to look away.
“Sam gave you his signal, right? But it was never turned off. It was just an accident. But I needed to tell you, because I know you’re going to blame yourself when they tell everyone at the briefing.” Her concerned tone and eyes met him for the briefest second before he wiped his hands down his face.
“I feel like an asshole.”
“No, please don’t.” She softly touched his elbow.
“I’m going to be honest Y/N, I thought you were going to take it a lot worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you found out that it was me. I was worried you were going to get really mad.”
“Wait, you already knew?”
“Yeah? Sam told me right when he found us…I thought you knew I knew, isn’t that why you just told me all that?”
“I thought you didn’t know. I wanted to be the one to tell you before the briefing, to tell you not to worry about it, because I knew you’d take it hard. But–but you already knew?”
Bucky just stared, jaw dropped at a loss for words.
“And–” She scoffed, “—and you didn’t tell me?!”
“Y/N, I-”
“Don’t ‘Y/N’, me! You—you, jerk! I can’t believe you knew all this time that you were the leak, and after belittling me and convincing me it was my fault, you didn’t tell me the truth!” She laughed in disbelief. “You selfish, cold-hearted, dickhead!”
He wasn’t sure what to say, but it didn’t matter, because she kept going.
“I’m stuck off missions for the next two months with a broken wrist, and you let me think it was my own doing! You made me feel like an idiot!”
“I was going to tell you—”
“When? After I was already told at the meeting? I can’t believe you!” She turned around briefly as if she couldn’t even face him, but quickly turned back. “To think I felt bad for you when I found out it was you who got us ambushed!”
With each insult she managed to get a little closer to him. So close, in fact, that Bucky was struggling to even comprehend what she was saying anymore. All he could think of was how close he was to her, how his hands were just itching to grab her waist. His head was nearly empty when he finally did carefully grab her and pull her closer to him. She paused her rampage to look up into his adoring eyes at his sudden movement.
“Bucky?” She whispered, a swirl of confusion and intrigue.
He replied by placing his lips gently on hers, feeling the warmth of her touch. She reciprocated, kissing him back for a couple seconds before bringing her hands to his chest to furiously push him away, followed by a swift slap to the face.
“Jeez-” The sudden change from bliss to reality was shocking.
“I can’t believe you James!” She yelled, her flustered look from both the kiss and her rage. “I can’t believe you just kissed me! I have a right to be angry, fuck you for thinking you can shut me up by locking my lips!”
‘Shit, I messed up,” he starts to think, about to spew apologies, when he gets cut off by her grasping his hoodie in her hand and pulling him back in for another kiss. The moment his shock subsides and he sinks back into the waves of her kiss, he’s just as abruptly taken from it, head dizzy as she parts from him just to slap him across the cheek again.
“Ow! What was that for?” He brings his hand to the sting. He’s so dazed and confused, a hurricane of thoughts and emotions all fighting for his attention.
“You make me so mad! I’m fuming right now! You are so selfish—”
She cuts herself off, pulling him in for another kiss, one that he’s still not prepared for. His frustration rising at her antics, he brings both hands to either side of her face and holds her steadily against him, resulting in their first kiss that lasted longer than five seconds. When he finally feels her about to let go for breath, he lets his lips leave hers, and continues to cradle her head, their foreheads resting against each other as they both gasp for breath.
“You’re not going to slap me again, are you?” He carefully asks, looking into her eyes.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“No.”
He laughs and slowly lets go of her.
“You okay?”
After a few seconds of silence, she responds with hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’ve already given you enough reason to hate me, I was sure that if you found out I was the leak, you’d finally hate me for good.”
“I don’t hate you Bucky. I always figured you kind of hated me. Lately you’ve been acting kind of like-”
“A dick, I know,” he nods. “And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. It’s just-” Bucky’s voice seizes as she sees him look intensely at her mouth.
“It’s what?”
“Can I please kiss you again?”
She slowly nods, and allows Bucky to kiss her for the fourth time. It was fucking heaven to him. Regardless, he abruptly pulls back when a thought crosses his mind.
“Shit, what about Steve?”
“What about Steve?”
“Don’t you like each other?”
She couldn’t help but think his concern was cute, the way he acted like he was talking about middle school crushes.
“Bucky, no,” she laughs, “Steve and I have just always been really good friends. You know, when people are nice to each other, and they like to hang around each other?”
“I just always thought that-”
“Never. He’s my friend. And I can guarantee you he feels the same as me.”
She lets him process the information, watching him nod to himself as if taking it in.
“Oh.”
“Are you jealous?” She smirks, giving him a flirty shove.
His cheeks go pink as he starts to stutter.
“Jea- jealous? No, not jealous. Just-”
Was he jealous? Was it emasculating to admit it? It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t care, he’s sick of lying.
“Okay, maybe I was a little bit jealous.” He mumbled, drawing his attention to a pebble on the ground that he was toeing. “So, you do like me, right?”
She lifts his chin upwards and gives him the softest, sweetest, slowest peck.
“Does that answer your question?” She flutters.
“I think so. But the slapping earlier was a bit confusing.” He teased.
“Sorry about that.”
“It’s alright, it was well deserved.”
“No, I still shouldn’t have hit you.” She said with certainty. “But I am still a little bit upset that you didn’t tell me.”
“Doll, I know I should’ve told you that you weren’t the leak. I wish–”
“No,” she shakes her head, “I’m upset you never told me how you felt about me. Instead you acted-”
“Like a dick, I know–”
“No, I was going to say like a child. But yeah, a dick, too.”
They just stood together for that moment, appreciating the start of something new. New, and beautiful, with a lot less animosity, and a lot more kisses.
A/N: If you’ve made it this far, thank you, thank you, thank you! I hope you liked it. If you feel like it, please lemme know your thoughts! I hope you have a peaceful day/night 💕
#bucky x f!reader#bucky barnes x reader#Bucky fic#bucky fanfic#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky angst#bucky barnes fanfiction
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borrowing.
Steve wasn't a pervert.
Sure, he's done some unsavory things in his younger years that he's not proud of. But he's never been the type to take advantage of a woman. He's not like some of his guy friends who look down women's shirts or touched someone without their permission.
Call him a pussy or a feminist, but that shit makes him sick to his stomach.
And yet...
"Fuck your pussy tastes so good."
Steve pants against the crotch of your panties. The fabric hugs his face tight as he breathes in your scent, his nose tenting the cotton fabric. His lips hold the crotch between them as he sucks and licks the damp material until your juices coat his tongue and then some.
His eyes open for a moment, looking out the leg hole to check his surroundings for bystanders. His beemer sits in the far corner of the YMCA facing the back of a gas station. It's not where he had originally parked when he arrived for his work out today. A work out he didn't even get to, all because he bumped into you.
He's noticed you ever since he got the membership with Robin. Their goal was to attend 3 days a week together per Robin's request. Something about wanting not wanting to gain the freshman fifteen when she started her semester.
But school quickly became overwhelming for her and Steve found himself going to the gym by himself.Without Robin to distract him, Steve started paying attention to some of the people at the gym.
It was just a couple passing glances at first, not wanting to be one of those guys who stares at girls while they work out. He couldn't deny you were beautiful though. And when you approached him one day after it was just you and him in the gym, he felt that there was chemistry between the two of you. You laughed at his dumb jokes, engaged him with personal questions...hell you even touched his arm with your hand.
Your friendliness expanded beyond that day, too. If he didn't say hi to you first, you were approaching him to wish him a good workout. You'd even brought him "counter productive" donuts one day because he said he loved the local shop.
It was safe to say Steve had become completely head over heels for you over the last few months. And he totally has plans to ask you out. He really does. But, after all the failed dates he had been on since high school...he was almost afraid to jinx what the two of you had going on.
Today was going to be the day though. Or...it was supposed to be.
He was running late getting to the gym this morning, bad traffic on the commute to drop Robin off to her classes put him an hour behind schedule. So as he pushed through the YMCA doors with haste, silently praying to himself that you'd not left yet, he accidentally ran full speed into a body as they were leaving.
"Woah!"
Steve recognized your voice. It pulls him out of his head, focusing on your frame before him. He's bummed to see you in your work uniform, obviously done with your work out for the day.
"Sorry I didn't mean to almost knock you down," he apologizes, looking you over to make sure you're okay.
"It's okay," you reassure him, your bright smile making his heart ache. "I thought I wasn't going to see you today, so running into me is better than nothing!"
"Ugh, yeah, I really was trying to get here earlier but traffic and--and, life! Ya know?"
You nod sweetly. "Totally!"
"Yeah..." Steve's heart thumped in his chest. He didn't need to suffer through a whole work out routine before asking you out. He could ask you out right now. And if you rejected him, he'd be able to walk away and inevitably cancel his gym membership since he'd never be able to show his face again in this establishment.
Or, you would say yes, and he could walk you to your car so you could give him your number on a napkin you keep in your glove box in case of emergencies.
"Well, I guess I'll see you on Friday," you say after a beat of silence. Steve felt the words on the tip of his tongue. But, when your hand landed on his arm with a squeeze, he froze in place. All he could muster was a weak goodbye before you were pushing out the second set of double doors and walking to your car.
He waited to make sure you got in okay before letting out the breath he had been holding. His head slumped in defeat. What happened to the crown that sat on his head when he was in high school? Was it because he wanted something real with you?
There wasn't much dwelling on the subject as a bundle of pink just a few inches away from his feet caught his eye. Steve's eyebrow quirked, and he crouched down to grab...whatever it was.
The material felt soft but wet in his hands. He cringed a bit until the material unfurled in his hands, revealing to be a pair of pink, skimpy panties. The initial shock had him almost dropping the panties, but a split second closer look had him twitching slightly in his pants.
The underwear was yours. They must have fallen out of your gym bag when he bumped into you.
He knew they were yours because he'd see them peaking out of your work out shorts when you were bending down to tie your shoe. He didn't look on purpose, you'd just happened to have stopped in front of him and he saw them. He told himself it was on purpose when he touched himself that night, but deep down he knew it wasn't.
The door almost came off its hinges with how hard he pulled it open, making a bee line to his car. He slammed the car door shut and locked it, giving a quick look around before he was ducking down just out of view.
He breathed in deeply as he inhaled the scent of your panties, exhaling with a groan as your smell infiltrated his nostrils. It felt like he took a hit from a drug. He could practically taste you on his tongue when he went in for another sniff.
Flipping the underwear so that the crotch was resting between his hands, Steve's mouth watered at the sight of the creamy white that painted the pink fabric. His tongue darted out slightly, eyes darting around again as the nerves set in. This wasn't like Steve, but he blamed the way you drive him crazy on the dirty thoughts that were running through his head.
Just as he was about to act on them, the sight of a person walking out of the building had him hesitating. He placed your panties in his passenger seat and started his car, moving to the back of the building in a far off spot that was less traveled and slamming it into park.
Once the coast was clear, Steve wasted no time bringing his tongue to your underwear and lapping at it messily. He whined as your taste hit his tongue, and suddenly his pants were way too tight on his crotch.
This wasn't like him he thought to himself. Not that he hadn't had a hook up or two out by Lover's Lake. But to do what he was considering in such a public place went against his morals...
Your panties sit between Steve's teeth as he undoes his belt. He has to scoot his seat back or else his hard cock will just bump against the steering wheel. He pumps himself a few times in his hand, squeezing some of his precum out of his tip and using is to lube himself.
Steve sucks in a breath as he starts to fist himself. He holds the panties against his face as he begins to imagine your pussy on his face. His imagination runs wild as he thinks about all the ways he would eat you out, your pussy right in his face waiting for him to run his tongue through.
"Such a pretty pussy," he says to himself.
Without much thinking, he pauses his jerking to take the panties and stretch them out, hooking under his chin and pulling them until they're taught over his face.
With his free hand, he's able to cup his sensitive balls as he jerks himself with more vigor. He doesn't know how long he's at it, too engulfed in his pleasure to care about the passing time. All he can think about is making you cum all over his face and thanking you after.
Steve's hips buck into his hands. He can feel his climax approaching, his hand focusing on his tip as he brings himself to the edge.
Just as he's about to come, Steve pulls your panties off of his face and wraps them about his cock. He does the best he can to aim for the crotch where he has completely saturated it with it with his own saliva, cumming hard into the bunched up fabric.
After a moment of coming down, Steve slumps back into his seat. Guilt begins to wash over him as he looks at the sticky mess he's turned your sweet pink panties into. How could he even face you, let alone ask you out after what he's done?
Steve shoved your underwear into his gym bag. He didn't think he could give them back, even if the thought of you wearing them after he's cum in them made him almost half hard again. He would just throw them away in a dumpster somewhere...or he could wash them and--
thanks for reading.
#steve harrington#perv!steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington smut#steve harrington blurb
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Seeing people saying that Satoru doesn't actually care about Suguru and that the only reason Kenjaku caught him was bc he was surprised to see a person he killed alive is fucking wild, man
Like. Gojo's entire life revolves around Geto. The entire series happens because he loved Suguru too much to kill him, even though he knew he would have to do it eventually. The world literally went to shit because he wasn't over him
Geto Suguru's life would be completely unimportant to the story without Gojo Satoru, and Gojo Satoru's would be completely unimportant without Geto Suguru. They complement each other. They need each other
Two male betta fishes can't coexist. They will fight and one will die. They can't see each other — even if they're in different tanks, they won't be able to live. They'd eventually tire each other out, resulting in death. The only way for Satoru and Suguru's lives to be able to continue without the other would've been for them to never have met at all. And they can't be together. Not now, not ever again. Not while they're still alive. Not after everything that's happened
The entire story revolves around their relationship. Yuuji is a boy who ate a curse('s finger[s]), and Megumi is the prodigy who befriends him. Satoru is a prodigy, the strongest, and Suguru, the boy whose technique is eating curses, befriends him. The Jujutsu Kaisen story is all about parallels and they all connect to fucking Satosugu. It's all about them
The only reason Kenjaku's plan worked is because the body he used didn't belong to some random person Gojo killed, it worked because the body he used was Geto Suguru's, Gojo's one and only, his best friend. He must be thinking “Thank god they're gay” right now lmao
Gojo fucking hesitated. He hesitated multiple times when it came to Geto. He was supposed to kill him, yet he let him go. He has the Six Eyes, he could've easily tracked him down. He probably could tell if he was nearby (he can recognize Suguru from his scent) and just didn't go looking for him. And he could've so very easily escaped the trap that was set up for him, he was going to run away from it because we see him about to take that step but then Suguru's body shows up and says “Yo, Satoru!” with Suguru's voice and Satoru freezes and hesitates
They weren't able to let go of each other even after years of being separated (like a decade). When they meet, Suguru still greets Satoru warmly
Suguru is pretty much Satoru's moral code. He was the only person Satoru took at least mildly seriously pre-Toji (and we know Satoru just didn't do serious back then). He actually took his words to heart. He was kind, of course (especially from Suguru's PoV, since he's the person that knows him most), and not a bad person, but he wasn't nice. Suguru was always the ‘nice(r) one’, the one who actually had a moral code, while Satoru was more of an asshole to literally everyone and everything (some more, some less), thinking he and Suguru were above everyone else
When Suguru finally snaps (which, honestly. Fair) and goes genocidal (not so fair), Satoru slowly starts to be somewhat nicer and starts applying Suguru's old moral code to his own being — their roles weren't exactly reversed, but now they're not together anymore, so they might as well be. And Suguru was shown for having faith in the school and its system while it was Satoru the one who absolutely abhorred the higher-ups and all kinds of authority, but then it ended up with Suguru being the one to leave and become a cult leader with the blood of hundreds on his hands while Satoru was the one that stayed behind in the same place of the people he despises so much
(Imagine someone saying something like “Sometimes I doubt you even have a moral code” and Gojo answers with “Oh, my best friend my one and only is pretty much my moral code. He went homicidal a while back but it's okay haha” “...Actually, that explains a few things”)
Gojo doesn't have a god complex, but I wouldn't blame him if he did. I mean, he might as well be the closest thing to god human beings have ever seen. He used to put himself above everyone else, when he was a teenager. He thought that, the higher he was, the more he could do. And no one was better than him. But not Suguru. Back then, it wasn't “I'm the strongest” it was “We're the strongest and “We're the best” and “We're the ones that will beat you” and “We're the duo” and it was all about “us, us, us, us, us” instead of “me, me, me, me” like people thought it was — they were a pair. They still are
We know people thought and still think of Gojo as a weapon. As something that must be controlled, because on the moment he decides he doesn't want to be around them anymore, he could just straight up kill then without any effort (but getting rid of people in positions of power only gets other people in positions of power and it'll be a neverending story, and Gojo knows this so he's trying to do his best to fix it all through the younger generation, by letting them live). And we also know that Suguru is one of the very few people who did not believe that at all
Like their personalities and characters and stories and literally everything, their names complement each other. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru are such similar names, I get them mixed up all the time (the amount of times I've called them “Gojo Suguru” and “Geto Satoru” is embarassing. Also, “Saturu”. “Goto”. “Gejo”. Ugh). Both of their last names start with a G, end with an O and have 4 letters. Both of their given names start with an S, end with an U and have 6 letters. They complement each other. They need each other
The only times we've seen Gojo with an expression of actual pure, raw emotion is when it's about Geto. When he finds out about what Geto did, when he realizes how thin and wrong Geto looks, when he sees him again for what we assume to be the first time in years, when he dies, when a thing wearing his corpse and using his voice greets him (“Yo, Satoru!” oh my god)
Suguru was able to fight back when in Kenjaku's control after Satoru said his name. Kenjaku himself says that had never happened before
And you don't even have to see them as romantic. You don't have to ship them if you don't want to. But you can't deny that they care about each other more than they will ever care about anyone else
#hey is it whose or who's#how do those words work???? english is so confusing sometimes smh#jujutsu kaisen#satosugu#they love each other your honor#jjk#jjk manga spoilers#kenjaku#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#geto suguru#suguru geto#gay#this is kinda long haha#but they deserve the longest of paragraphs#edit: i changed this a little bc my dumbass self said gojo had a god complex#i didn't actually know what a god complex is. mb#edit: i'm proud to say this is pretty much my best post
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Forget about him. (Captain Price x Reader.)
!CW! NSFW, Smut, virgin!reader, virginity loss, cheating, p in v sex, protected sex, get a glass of water, (sorry if I missed any.)
That hotel room service song by pitbull may have had a bit of influence on me. Good luck. Not edited!
You noticed the stares you gave each other the very day you walked off of the helicopter onto the base.
You were Laswell’s niece, and maybe that’s what drew him to you. Every time he looked at you, he seemed to have this dark look in his eyes and you always made eye contact. It seemed as if he was always looking at you. And it was true, he was.
You know what you feel is wrong.
These feelings that you have for your Captain, they’re not normal. Not when you’ve got a boyfriend anyways.
Your first couple months were normal. You and your Captain always made prolonged eye contact, it made your stomach swirl. He started smiling at you, giving you a small wave. Small waves turned into hanging out more, hanging out more led to more and more shared conversations-feelings. The more you got to know John, the more trouble you were getting yourself into. He put the both of you on watch together. You ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. You spent every free second you had talking to him.
When you first started, you spoke to your boyfriend every day. Every day turned to every other day. Every other day turned into a couple times a week. Now? Maybe he’d hear from you once a week.
John was aware of your boyfriend. And he didn’t have to meet him to know that he hated him. Because you were supposed to be his. But he knew he wasn’t completely in trouble, if he got close enough to you, if he pulled you away from him. Maybe you’d go for the older man. Or maybe he was delusional.
On watch one night, is when he made his first move. The both of you sitting up in the watch tower, completely alone, late at night. Talking about anything and everything. It was a perfect opportunity. You sat next to him, you’d made some kind of joke, his hand being placed in your thigh, it was innocent, to you. “You crack me up sweetheart.” He laughs.
You lean into him a little bit, making more small talk. When it’s perfect, he goes in for the kill. Leaning right into you and planting his lips right on yours. You freeze up for a second, not realizing what’s happening exactly. His hand slides further up your thigh and you kiss him back. Your brain screams at you. Every nerve ending in your body lighting on fire, a preview to hell for when you go there for being a cheater.
You pull away, standing up. Your eyes are wide. Lips plump and slightly pinker from his. “John.. I have a boyfriend.” You breathe. “I’m sorry.” He breathes. “I.. I don’t know what I was thinking.” You breathe. Hurrying out of the watch tower, he’d understand. The very moment you’re gone, John is smiling. You kissed him back, you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you.
You rushed back to your room, opening up the door and closing it behind you. You take in a deep breath, sighing as you pull your phone out of your pocket. You have a couple missed calls from your boyfriend. A few text messages, but a couple messages take you off guard. They’re from someone named Erica.
Hey. Sorry to bother you. Is this your boyfriend? *attached image*
Your eyes narrow as you read across the screen.
Yeah, what’s going on?
I’m really sorry. We’ve been sleeping together for a couple weeks and I had no idea he had a girlfriend.
Your stomach falls. You felt bad for kissing John. You were going to tell him. No matter the consequences you were going to be honest.
Thanks for telling me.
You shake your head. Now what?
You hear footsteps coming toward your room, and you recognize them immediately. They’re John’s. You notice his shadow by your door for a while. Something sliding underneath your door. You swallow hard, waiting for him to back off before gently walking over to pick it up.
Folded in half is a note. You swallow hard as you read it.
I know you feel what I feel. I’ll be at the hotel on 5th street tomorrow. Room 312. If you feel what I feel, you’ll be there. 8pm. -price.
You lay back on your bed, clenching your eyes shut.
What were you going to do?
—
Your nerves are completely shot as you head up the elevator. Your heart is pounding in your chest, you can barely take it.
What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here. Your lower stomach clenches up and you take in a deep breathe. The elevator opens up, and you step out. Turning the corner and making your way down the hallway. The red and gold designed carpet is stiff under your shoes, you can see the door.
Room 312
You stand outside for a second. Taking in a deep breath. Once you knock, you know there’s no going back. You raise your hand, hesitating a second before knocking quietly at the door. It opens pretty quickly, and your Captain looks back at you. He stands to the side, letting you come inside. “Hey.” He takes in a sharp breath. Following behind you as you walk into the room. He sits down on the edge of the hotel bed. Legs spread apart, his hands resting in his lap. “I didn’t think you’d come.” He breathes. Your eyes flash to his jeans, how tight they are on his big thighs, he’s fit. Obviously for being in the military. His thighs are large, his jeans squeeze around them. You clench your eyes closed.
You bite your lip nervously. “To be honest? I didn’t think I would either.” You laugh. You’re clutching at the strap of the backpack you have. He can see you’re nervous.
“You don’t have to do this.. you can always go back.” He breathes.
Your brain is foggy, your boyfriend is probably at home, asleep. He’s thinking you’re asleep or on watch. You shake your head. “I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t know what I was getting myself into.” You avoid his gaze. He stands up, taking a few steps closer to you. He reaches out, grasping your backpack and pulling it off of you. He sets it down on the chair, pushing your hair behind your ear. Rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re a good girl.” He breathes. “Regardless of how you feel or.. if you think what you’re doing is wrong.. you’re still a good girl.” He breathes, clutching a handful of your hair at the nape of your neck. “He’s stupid to be playing a girl like you, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve you.” He sighs. Cupping your other cheek, pressing his forehead to yours. Your body is warm, the buzzing you hear in your ears is loud. You can’t stand it anymore, you need him.
You sigh into him, he can feel your warm breath on his face.
“I don’t know what to do Captain. This feels wrong.” You sigh. “Because.. in a way.. it is wrong.” He sighs. Pulling away from you. “Even if he cheated first.. you’re still cheating.”
“I just need a minute.” You breathe. Snagging your phone and going into the bathroom. You clutch handfuls of your hair, frustrated at what you’re feeling. He’s hurt you so bad, you don’t like him anymore. So why are you hesitant?
Your phone buzzing brings you out of your thoughts.
“Hey.”
You feel tears filling your eyes, you shouldn’t be here, but you shouldn’t be there either.
“Hi.”
You lie.
“Everything okay?”
“No.”
“What’s going on?”
“I know about Erica.”
It takes him a few minutes before he starts typing a reply.
“Please come home so we can talk about this in person.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Don’t do anything irrational please. I know how you are, you need to come home.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It was just a couple months. She meant nothing to me Y/N. We just.. you know. You’re a virgin and I have needs that need to be fulfilled.”
Your eyes widen. A couple months?
“How long?”
“Y/N…”
“How long?”
“Almost a year.”
After a few minutes of you sitting there, your phone starts to blow up. He’s calling and messaging. Begging you to come home. Begging you to see him, meet up with him. So you answer it as you open up the bathroom door, looking up at John as the words leave your mouth.
“Y/N. Please just hear me out-“
“I answered to say that I understand.” You breathe, pupils blown wide as you stare at John. He’s waiting nervously.
“You do?”
“Of course, everyone has needs. I have needs to be fulfilled. Which is why I’m not on base right now. I’ll have someone come by, to get my things. We’re done.”
You throw the phone down, stepping toward your Captain. “I have to be honest before we do anything.” You sigh, looking down. “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never had sex.” You sigh. “That’s alright.” He laughs. “I’ll be gentle with you. But only if you’re sure.” He tugs at the hem of your shirt, toying with the belt loop on your jeans. “Yeah, I’m sure.” You breathe. “That’s a good girl..” he breathes. He grasps the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. Once it’s off, he’s kissing you. You feel him melt right into you. Moaning into your lips. Finally, after those months of dreaming about you, you’re right here.
You don’t have a bra on, his fingers moving to dance over your nipples, his hands are warm against you. You know this is right, you were meant to be here, you’d made the right decision.
When you pull away from him, he can see that you’re getting overwhelmed by his touch. You’re breathing hard and all of the blood has rushed to your lips and cheeks. Your cheeks are flushed bright. Deep breathes leaving your lips. “You alright?” He asks. “Y-yeah. Yeah. I’m just really turned on.” You laugh, blushing even more. He can’t help but smile. “It’s alright. I’ll give you what you need.” He mumbles.
He reaches for your waistband, popping the button in your jeans, unzipping them and tugging them down your legs. Helping you step out of them. He glides his fingertips up your thighs, looping his fingers under the hand of your panties, tugging them down your legs too. You’ve never been so turned on in your life. “This will be our little secret, yeah? Nobody has to know.” He breathes. You nod your head, eyes fixed on his. He pushes you back onto the bed and you move yourself up it. Watching him pull his own shirt over his head. Unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down. Once he’s fully exposed to you, he’s moving up the bed. Moving himself between your legs. He’s got something in his hand which you realize pretty quickly is a condom. He clutches it tight, kissing you more. Attacking your nipples with his lips, sucking gently at your skin until you’re whining. You tilt your head back, staring up a the ceiling. You don’t know how on earth you’ve gotten into this situation. You’ve never felt so good.
He tears the packet open, sliding the circle out before tossing the empty packet onto the nightstand. He rolls the condom over the tip of his cock, rolling it down his shaft until it’s snug on him. “You ready?” He asks. You nod your head eagerly. Making him smile. “It might hurt… just for a second.” He breathes. You nod your head. “You can always stop me. You can still leave.” He breathes. You shake your head. “Please just fuck me, John.” You scoot into him further, hearing him chuckle. “Alright baby.” He moves closer, brushing his tip over your clit, feeling you jump away from him. Earning a deep laugh from him. He presses his tip into your entrance, pushing into you slowly. The lube from the condom helps him slide into you. You grip the blanket on the hotel bed tight, face scrunching up slightly. “Almost there..” he sighs. Feeling you squeezing around him. “Doing so good- so close.” He breathes. He can feel beads of sweat growing at his hairline, his body feels like it’s on fire.
If Laswell ever found out about this, John is dead.
“There we go.” He breathes. He’s filled you up to the hilt, your body is stiff. “Try to relax. M’gonna move now okay?” You nod your head, keeping your eyes closed. “I know it hurts darling.” He breaths. He hovers over you. Grasping your hands and pinning them above your head. “But it’ll feel so good once you’re used to me. Just relax.” He breathes. He draws his hips back, pushing himself back into you. A cry leaves your lips and he muffles you by kissing you. Thrusting his hips up into yours. He can feel tears on your eyelashes as you kiss him. “Shh.. it’s alright.” He moves himself back, letting go of your hands. He lowers his hand, resting his thumb on your clit, putting a slight amount of pressure on it. You shake slightly, letting your body get used to him. You finally open your eyes, looking down. You can see him slide out of you, thrusting back inside.
You hear him laugh. “See that lovie?” He breathes. You nod your head. “You gave me your virginity.” A gasp leaves your lips as he presses again your clit harder, circling it faster. You’re getting used to him. Lifting your thighs up and holding them apart for him, getting a better look at him. You’re panting, “you’re going so deep.” You whine, looking up at him. He bites his lip slightly. “Yeah. You’re doing so good for me.” He lowers himself down so that he can kiss you again. His lips are soft against yours. He latches onto your bottom lip with his teeth, tugging at it gently. His body feels good against yours. He’s overwhelming you. You’re panting hard and he can’t help but notice, smiling down at you. “Hey. Look at me.” He grasps your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. “Relax alright? Don’t need you passing out on me now.” He smiles, still lazily rocking his hips into you. You nod your head. “Yes sir.” Hearing him laugh.
“Still obey me even off duty.” He shakes his head. He lowers his head down, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, hearing you whine. “John- it feels so good.” You grit your teeth. Eyes filling with tears. He smirks down at you. “Yeah? You feeling good now?” He chuckles. You nod your head, tears spilling out of your eyes. He’s keeping a steady pace, rocking his hips into that one spot that he knows how to find so easily. He’s going to make you fall apart beneath him. He knows you, he knows what you’ll like. He’ll treat you so much better than that stupid boyfriend of yours ever did. He brushes your hair out of your face. “You’re too overwhelmed. Relax into me. Just give yourself to me.” He breathes. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, continuing to reassure you as he pushes you closer and closer to the brink of pure bliss. Your thighs shake, he keeps you pinned down between him and the mattress beneath you. “It feels so good.. I.. I-“ a cry leaves your lips. Sobbing as you reach your high. “That’s it. Give yourself to me.” He mumbles, kissing you again to muffle your moans. He grits his teeth, clutching hard onto the mattress as he finishes into the condom. He can’t help it as he ruts his hips into you harder than he intends. “Oh fuck-“ he gasps. His arms flex as he clutches at the sheets. You swallow hard, unable to move or talk.
He slides off of you, moving to go clean up.
You slip your clothes back on while he’s in the bathroom, staring at anything. Still in complete disbelief of the events of tonight. Not only had you broken up with your boyfriend, but you had sex with your Captain. You’re staring down at your hands as you wait. Sitting on the edge of the bed. He emerges from the bathroom, fully dressed once more. Moving to sit down next to you. “Are you alright?” He asks. You nod your head, eyes still fixated on your hands. “Yeah. Just.. shocked is all I guess.” You mumble. “It’s alright. It’ll start to fade out.” He chuckles. “Uh.. yeah.” You laugh nervously. “Should we head back to base? We have watch in about an hour..” you laugh. “Yeah. Probably.” He smiles. He moves closer. “Hey. I hope I didn’t push you into anything.” He sighs. “No. No you didn’t. I wanted this.” You laugh. He nods his head. The both of you getting ready to sneak out, leave your keycards in the front desk drop box.
—
It’s been a couple weeks, and John wants to talk to you. But you’ve been avoiding him like crazy and he can’t seem to corner you anywhere.
He’s ready to just face it, walk right into your room when he knows you’re in there. But on the way there, he runs right into Kate. “Hey John. I’ve got a couple questions about the upcoming mission. Let’s go into your office.” She crosses her arms. He nods. “Of course.” He smiles. Leading her down the hallway. He opens up his door, stepping inside. He flicks the light on, Kate walks around to his chair. Crossing her arms. She sighs. “I know about what happened between you and Y/N.” She’s got her back to him. He clears his throat. “What are you talking about?” He leans forward. She turns around, facing him finally. “I know that you had sex with her.” She purses her lips. He stays quiet. “I noticed she was acting a little different, her little boyfriend she’s been seeing asked me to check up on her, said he hadn’t heard from her in a while. So I looked at her phone. Went into her room and found this.” She throws the little note he’d written to you onto his desk.
“Laswell that’s a massive invasion of privacy.” He stands up. “Yeah. And you’re also in your forties John. What the hell were you thinking?” She puts her head in her hands. He shakes his head. “I was thinking that I like her. And now I’m thinking I regret nothing.” He sighs. “What do you want me to say?”
“I just.. you made her break up with her boyfriend John. What the hell has gotten into you?”
“I didn’t make her do anything Kate. He cheated on her and she broke up with him. If you’d really gotten her phone like you said you did, you’d know that.” You narrows his eyes. She groans. “I can’t believe you.” She sighs. “She’s on the next flight off of this base, and you can be the first to go tell her.” He shakes his head. “No.” He’s stern.
“No?” She asks. “Y/N is a consenting adult. She’s on my task force. My jurisdiction.” He shrugs. “You could lose your job. John.” She grits her teeth. “Oh well.”
“You’re a Captain and you’re going to throw it all away over a girl?”
He shakes his head. “She’s not ‘just’ a girl, Kate. She’s a fully grown woman, who I happen to care a lot about. I’m sorry if you don’t like that, but I want her close by so that I can take care of her. Because I love her.” He sits down. Seeing her clench her eyes closed.
“Jesus Christ.” She mumbles.
She turns her back to him. “How the fuck did this happen?” She sighs.
“I knew it the day she stepped onto this base.” He sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for going behind your back. But.. she’s.. god. I swear that girl is my best friend.” He sighs.
“I’m furious with you John.” She sighs. “I’m not happy that you went behind my back, that you’ve put her into this position. And she’s been avoiding you like the plague so you need to fix this. She can stay on this base for now, but if something goes wrong and she looses her job, or ANYTHING happens to her, I’ll have your head Price.” She flares. “You understand me?”
He nods his head. “Loud and clear.” He mumbles. “Now go make this right.” She sighs.
He stands up, disappearing out of his office. He makes his way into the mess hall where everyone should be having dinner. Making his way up to Soap where he stood with the rest of his task force. “Hey. You guys seen Y/N?” He asks. “Uhhh. Yeah. She was just over at the fridge.” Soap nods. John looks over, eyes locking with yours. You rush out of the room quickly and he’s quick to go after you. Trying not to make it obvious. You go to close your door behind you, but he stops it with his hand. You step back. He steps inside, closing the door behind him. “You can’t avoid me forever, darling.”
His back rests up against your door and your eyes clench shut at his nickname. You turn your back to him. Setting your tray down on your nightstand. “I’m sorry.” You mumble. “What’s going on? I thought we were okay.”
You sigh. “We are okay. I just.. you told me it was a secret. So I thought it was a one time thing.” You sigh.
“I.. I didn’t really want it to be a one time thing.” He mumbles. You turn to him. “What?”
He crosses his arms, laughing. “Course not. I like you. I just.. thought maybe you’d change your mind or something else would happen.” He shrugs. “No.. I.. I didn’t want it to be a one time thing either.” You mumble.
“Good. So you can stop avoiding me and let me see that pretty smile.” He smiles. “Oh.. and uh.. it’s not really a secret anymore.” He mumbles. “What?” Your eyes widen. “Kate.. she uh.. went through your things. And your phone. She found this.” He holds up the note. “She what?” You narrow your eyes. He sees the way your face changes. You snatch it from his hand, grasping the door handle and ripping the door open. “Wait- Y/N.” He tries to stop you but rush right down to his office where you know she is. “What the hell is this?” You seethe as you step inside. “You told her?”
“I didn’t think she’d be mad!” John shrugs. “Maybe you should tell me what that is?”
Your voices being raised gathers others at the doorway. “Maybe I shouldn’t because it’s my goddamn business Kate. You went through my stuff? And my phone? I came here to get away from that.” You hiss. “Y/N- come on honey.” John reaches for your arm but you shrug him off. “Y/N. You’re not thinking right.”
“Oh, I’m thinking just fine. I’m a grown woman, who deserves privacy. And if I want to risk my job by fucking my Captain, I will.”
Everyone who’s standing outside of his office has wide eyes, mouths open wide. “You’re not my mom and you promised you would leave this alone.” You growl. “You clearly can’t handle it!” Kate throws her hands up. “Because you’re always breathing down my back. I’m a grown woman. No more of this Kate. No fucking more.” You growl. “Okay. I’m sorry I went through your stuff Y/N. But I worry about you.” She sighs. “I understand that. But if I have something seriously wrong, I promise I will come to you about it. But you have to give me a little bit space sometimes. For christs sake, I’m in the military putting my life on the line and this is where you draw the line?” You breathe. “Alright, no more of this. We’re taking a walk, we’ll come back to this later.” John pushes you back, hearing you sigh in frustration. “Everyone please go back to your posted chores please!” He calls.
“Christ in heaven you’re sexy when you’re going off.” He mumbles in your ear, hearing you laugh.
“You’ve got it had John.” You mumble. “Yeah. Maybe I do. But that’s something we can talk about after I’ve fucked you, hm?” He smiles, pushing you back toward your room.
#call of duty mw2#soap mw2#cod mw2#ghost mw2#captain john price#price mw2#alejandro mw2#captain price#johnny soap mactavish#mw2 smut#john price x reader#john price#captain johnathan price
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Something in the Orange
Pairing: Joel Miller x art teacher!reader
Author's note: this might become a mini series idk idk
Summary: A parent-teacher conference leads to trouble [4.0k]
Warnings: no outbreak! au, teacher things, Ellie being a little loner, Joel the Menace making a return, Joel gets both his daughters in this one because it's what he deserves, flirty flirt, i think that's it???
You feel like you've been running a million miles a minute since you got in this morning. The second you could unlock the door, at least three students spilled into your room and chaotically ran to the kiln to collect their most recent pottery projects. One of them ended up shattering (the exact one you warned Colin about, but he didn't listen), and, as per high school custom, they were all screaming about it. You consoled the students just in time for your principal to walk by and ask about lesson plans which made you scramble through your backpack for your notebook even though you knew damn well there wasn't a single lesson plan in there. "Do you always have those lights on?" Principal Martinez asked, gesturing to the room's fairy lights and orange lamps. Leave it to administration to want to avoid art classrooms so much that they don't even know about the Big Light Philosophy.
Since then, it's been class after class. You only have one more period before your planning period and then, finally, the end of the day. There are a hundred things to do, but you can't focus on any of them. You got so caught up in managing your classroom and helping students with the hardest parts of their portfolio work that you almost forgot you had a parent meeting scheduled during your planning period.
Calling in parents for meetings about their children may be your least favorite part of your job. It makes you feel like a bad teacher, and parents usually don't feel great about getting called in on a workday to talk about their kid. Luckily, Ellie's dad, Joel, seemed more than happy to take time to talk about her. You rack your mind for his occupation as you add some detail to a canvas you've been hiding in your office and working on when you can. Was he a blue-collar worker? Or was he another stuck-up Austin transplant parent who's gonna accuse you of lying? He'd make the fifth parent who's made you cry this semester.
A knock on your locked door pulls you from your thoughts, and you quickly put away your painting before answering the door. "I told you she was in here!" One of your students, Dina, announces as she and a posse of three other kids you don't recognize push their way into the room. "Miss, you've gotta take that thing off your door; otherwise, people are gonna think you went home!"
"You mean the sign that says, 'planning period. Do not enter?'" You ask, and she snaps her fingers.
"That's the one." She says as she and her friends start putting their backpacks down at one of your high tables. You sigh and kick the door stopper into the threshold.
"You guys can't stay here. I have a meeting in five minutes."
"With who?"
"None of your business."
"Miss!" Dina acts wounded, and you cross your arms over your chest, your keys jingling around your neck in the process.
"I am an adult with a college degree and the debt to show for it. You are a teenager with a still-developing brain. You have to listen to me," you say. "Wait, whose class are you supposed to be in right now?"
"Mr. Flynn's."
"Guys!" You groan before walking over to your desk and quickly writing up a hall pass for them. "I know you don't like math-"
"No, we don't like Mr. Flynn." Dina cuts you off.
"Or math!" One of her friends adds, and you shoot them a (loving) disapproving look.
"Whatever you don't like, you can't keep hiding out here. Mr. Flynn is two seconds away from trying to get me fired for how often I let his kids in here during class, and I actually like this job, so," you rip the hall pass off the pad and hand it to Dina. As they pack their stuff up, a tall, bearded man steps into your classroom and makes eye contact with you. "Out, out, out! I love you. You're gonna change the world one day, but please get out." You blow them kisses as you usher them out of the room.
"Are you Ellie's art teacher?" He asks, a confused look on his face, and you nod.
"Yes, I am. Sorry about that. They're still figuring out that I have work to get done even when I don't have a class," you explain, a little breathless from running all over the place and getting caught off-guard. You really do try to act a little more professional with parents, but the kids threw you off. The kettle whistling behind your desk doesn't make it any better. "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Tea?" You pick up a random mug off your desk but find it full of murky water. "Paint water?"
"Are you allowed to have an electric kettle in here?" He asks, and you laugh nervously as you find a clean mug and your tea box.
"I won't tell if you won't." You say. He stands there awkwardly as you pour yourself some tea, and you realize you didn't pull a chair up for him. "Um, we can sit..." you glance around your messy classroom until you find a clear table and gesture toward it. "Here." He follows your lead, and you take a deep breath as you sit down.
"You gonna be okay?" He asks, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His curly hair looks golden brown in the low light, and his round eyes have a little knowing twinkle. You take another breath to compose yourself and nod.
"Yes. Sorry. It's been a long day."��
"Don't worry bout it. I'm sure they run you ragged."
"Is it that obvious?"
"Well, you do have paint in your hair." He says, and panic seizes in your chest. You're never more aware of how crazy your job can be until you meet Real Adults. Even if you can't remember what he does for a living, you still have to admit that you look a little silly next to each other: you, with your paint-stained sunflower dress and markered hands, and him, with his black shirt and jeans. He doesn't have any apparent stains or splatters on his clothes, but he's broad with thick biceps. He must work with his hands or something within that capacity. You clear your throat and try to get back on track with the meeting.
"Uh, so Mr. Miller, the reason I called you here today was to talk to you about Ellie," you start. "First, I just wanna say that she is an amazing student. She always does her work and engages thoughtfully with the material. I really do enjoy having her in class."
"Well, that's certainly good to hear. She talks a whole lot bout this class and you, so... it's nice to place a face to the name," he says, adjusting his position on the stool. "But I have a feelin' you didn't call me down here just to tell me how great my kid is."
"She is great. She's extremely talented, smart, and funny, but she spends more time in my classroom during lunch than anything else. I'm worried about her making friends and finding a community here at school. I've tried convincing her to join the art club, but she's hesitant. During class, she just sits with her headphones in and draws. She really doesn't like talking to anybody but me." You wait for blame to be assigned to you or get lectured, but it never comes. He just sighs, and he deflates a little in his chair.
"She's been through a lot this year. Well, her whole life, really, but 'specially recently," he says dejectedly. "What can I do for her?"
"There's an art show this Friday night here at the school. It'll all be student work from across the district. I thought if maybe you or... whatever adults she has at home came with her to this, she might feel more comfortable talking to her peers or even want to submit some of her own stuff."
"We can do that. I'll get off work early and ask her uncle if he wants to come," he's quick with his solution, and you're a little shocked. You rarely get parents, let alone fathers, who act this swiftly when something is going on with their kids. "Is there anythin' else goin' on that I should know bout?"
"Uh, no. Like I said, she's a great kid. You should be really proud." You say, and the concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears with a proud smile.
"Thank you," he mumbles, suddenly shy. "And thanks for carin' so much bout her. It's nice to know she's got someone lookin' out for her here." You don't know what to say, so you just nod and stare at him. You know, like an idiot. It takes a chuckle from him to snap you out of your thoughts, and blood rushes to your cheeks.
"Yes, of course. She's a good kid." You say.
"You said that already."
"I bet you'd be a little scatterbrained if you were at the mercy of two hundred teenagers all day."
"You're absolutely right. I would be," he says, smirking devastatingly. "Someone ought to get you a coffee or somethin' if you're dealing with all that."
"People like you should go argue with the school board. I'm sure you'd be popular with all the teachers."
"That'd be a first. I think I might've been the least favorite parent for all of my girls' teachers."
"Well, I find that hard to believe."
"Yeah?" He asks, leaning forward just a little, and you nod, smiling. Your brain struggles to come up with something to say, and you're a little embarrassed at your silence, but luckily, your projector saves the day by buzzing loudly and making the picture on the board cut in and out. You mumble a quick apology before getting up and climbing up on a desk to jiggle a piece back into place. You hear Joel curse behind you, and when you turn to see what the problem is, you see him holding his arms out behind you. "Do you stand on desks often?"
"Only every day. I haven't fallen yet this year." You laugh at his exasperated expression and turn back to the projector. It's still making a weird noise, so you move it around a little more, moving the desk under your feet, and Joel stabilizes it with a sigh.
"How long has it been doin' that?"
"Couple months. I keep putting in maintenance requests, but nobody ever comes to fix it."
"I can fix it for ya," he says simply, and you look down at him. "I've got tools in my truck. It wouldn't take long at all."
"Really?" You ask, and he nods.
"It'd make me feel better knowin' you're not almost breakin' your neck every day."
"You mean, standing on a decades-old desk to mess with an ancient piece of equipment isn't OSHA compliant?"
"Please," he says, grabbing your ankle when the desk wobbles under you, and you laugh at his worry. "Let me fix it for you before you give me a heart attack." You think about declining and just putting in another work order, but the likelihood that anyone would actually come and fix it is slim to none. Plus, you really shouldn't be climbing on top of desks every day. You pretend to think it over for a few more seconds just to watch the worry play across his features as his grip on your ankle gets tighter.
"Only if you really mean it."
"I really mean it," he says, offering you his other hand. "Now, would you please get down?"
"Fine." You say and take his hand. You bend to safely get yourself down, but Joel moves his other hand from your ankle to your waist and basically hoists you to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, he doesn't let you go immediately like he's trying to figure out if you somehow got hurt when he wasn't looking. There's a part of your brain that's aware of how inappropriate this would look to any passersby, but you're also highly aware of how warm his big hand is on your hip.
"Ya alright?" He asks softly, and you nod, taking a conscious step back from his arms.
"Yes, thank you."
"Good," he says, also taking a step back. "Let me go get my tools, and I'll get that fixed for you."
"Perfect. I'll be here." You stand there, staring at each other awkwardly, for another moment before he turns on his heels and walks out of the classroom. The second he's out of your line of sight, you bury your head in your hands and start silently freaking out.
What the fuck are you doing? How did a parent-teacher meeting turn into him hauling you off a desk and offering to fix your projector? Technically, nothing incriminating has happened, and it needs to stay that way. It doesn't matter if you think he's attractive or like how he worries about everything. He's Ellie's dad. Teachers have gotten fired for much less than this, and you're not willing to risk your career because of one guy.
When he gets back with his toolbox, you're sitting at your desk and sorting through assignments like a reasonable adult. He doesn't say anything as he climbs up on the same desk you were standing on and begins messing with the mechanics of the equipment. You each work in silence for a few minutes before a screw clatters to the ground, and he grumbles something under his breath. "Do you mind..." he starts, pointing toward the lost piece.
"Not at all." You cover your anxiety with your chipper teacher voice and search for the screw with your phone flashlight. You find it tucked between canvases, carefully pick it up, and walk over to where he's standing, waiting for him to be ready for it.
"It looks like it's just an old piece in here. I'm sure you can order a new one, and I can come back and install it if ya want," he explains, looking down at you. You probably look stupid just standing there with a tiny screw in your hand, but he doesn't laugh. "D'you mind handing me that tool to your right?" He asks, and you blindly reach for the tool you think he's talking about. "Your other right." He corrects, and you flush in embarrassment.
"Sorry. I never was a very good woodshop student." You say, and he laughs once he has the tool in hand.
"My girls are the same way. Just askin' ‘em to hold a flashlight while I work on their car is like pullin' teeth," he says fondly. "Speaking of which, is there a reason the lights aren't on in here?"
"The lamp light is less harsh, and it helps students focus. Plus, nobody likes coming into a bright classroom first thing in the morning." You explain, and he hums.
"If I'd had a teacher like you growing up, I would've been at school much more than I was."
"You didn't like school?"
"Hated it," he says, opening his hand for the screw. Once you drop the tiny thing into his large palm, he straightens up, and you can barely hear it going back into its rightful place. "'S a miracle I graduated."
"That was me in college."
"Now, I don't believe that for a second."
"Really?" You laugh, and he nods.
"Someone like you, with your pretty dresses and all that empathy, was meant to be a teacher."
"I wasn't always like this," you evade the compliment despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Being a teacher was never on my radar until I graduated. A lot of my life was never on my radar until then." He puts the hood of the projector back on and climbs down from the desk until he's standing in front of you again, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief from his toolbox.
"Well, with the way you carry yourself, I never woulda guessed." He says. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the sharp tone of the bell ringing cuts him off. You jump at the sound and look at the clock as if it were wrong.
"I'm so sorry. Time must've gotten away from me. Thank you so much again, Mr. Miller, for coming in to talk with me and looking at the projector. I hope to see you and Ellie on Friday." You say quickly as the sound of rowdy kids fills the hallway, and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and squeezes it firmly.
"You can call me Joel. Mr. Miller makes me feel old." He says, and you smile. He doesn't look old, unlike the other dads you've encountered. Sure, he's got some gray at his temples and in his beard, but it suits him.
"Joel, it is then." You resolve. His hand lingers in yours for a little too long before finally pulling away. "Well, Joel, unless you want to elbow through teenagers, I'd suggest you hide out here for a few more minutes." He does happily, even helping you carry supplies to your car once the hallways have cleared out enough. He's a proper gentleman, slinging your backpack over his shoulder and opening doors for you. You part only once everything is in your trunk, and he bids you goodnight with a charming smile that fills your thoughts on your drive home.
Ellie surprises you the next day as you're setting up the classroom. Normally, she isn't in until right before the bell rings, so seeing her this early is a little bit of a shock. The ink staining her hands is not. "Hey, dude. What's going on?" You ask. "Did you get breakfast from the cafeteria today? I heard Mrs. Hodges has those French toast sticks that everyone loves. You can probably get two servings if you run."
"No, I already ate. My dad and uncle had to leave early this morning, so we got breakfast. Speaking of which," she says as she takes off her backpack and pulls a cup of iced coffee out of her water bottle pocket. "This is for you. We didn't know what you liked, so we got a vanilla latte or something."
"Oh, El! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, honey." You say, and she sets it on your desk for you to enjoy once you don't have paintbrushes in hand. "If this is your way of getting a good grade on your piece, I already told you that you have nothing to worry about."
"It wasn't my idea. It was my dad's." She says nonchalantly before moving to the back of the classroom to get her sketch book. You, however, are confused and secretly pleased that Joel thought of you when he didn't have to. You find a message scribbled on the side when you reach for the cup to take a sip.
Thanks again. See you Friday. -J
You turn to hide your smile from Ellie, but she's so deep in her work that you doubt she would've noticed anyway. You put some music on, and you and Ellie work silently on your projects until the bell rings and the day starts.
The rest of the week goes by without a hitch, meaning that nobody accidentally ingested paint, and you only had to have one Come to Jesus talk with your Art 1 class. When Friday night rolls around, you're excited to see all the students work and treat yourself by wearing a new shirt with black scribbles all over it and black dress pants. You figure you should look as art teachery as possible for an art teacher event.
By the time you get to the school, the hallways are buzzing with students dragging their parents from one piece to another and administrators praising their art programs even though you know not one of them has seen the inside of an art classroom in months. You make small talk with some of your students and their parents before finding a way out of the conversation and letting yourself wander through the makeshift gallery. You love your kids, but you really don't want them breathing down your neck as you look at all the art. You're almost at the end when you hear a familiar voice calling your name, and you turn to find Ellie walking toward you with Joel and, who you assume to be her uncle, next to her.
"Hey, kid! I'm so happy to see you here!" You say sincerely, and she smiles shyly. You turn to her uncle and hold your hand out to introduce yourself.
"Tommy. We sure have heard a whole lot bout you at home." He says with a smirk, and you laugh.
"All good things, I hope."
"Of course. Ellie just bout worships the ground you walk on," he says. "Joel was singin' your praises, too."
"Alright, I think that's enough. Why don't y'all go walk around, and I'll catch up with ya?" He suggests, and Tommy chuckles. Another teacher calls Ellie's name from down the hallway, and she's quick to drag Tommy off to meet him, leaving you and Joel alone. He's replaced his black shirt with a light blue dress shirt, and it looks like he's recently trimmed his beard. He looks nice.
"Singing praises, huh?" You raise your eyebrows at him, and he smiles sheepishly. "Thank you for the coffee the other morning, by the way. It was a really nice surprise."
"Figured it was the least I could do to thank you for takin' such good care of my girl."
"Well, thank you. I owe you."
"You don't owe me a thing," he says. "Although, Tommy was a little upset that I didn't bill you for lookin' at the projector."
"Was he?" You ask, and he nods.
"Oh, yeah," he laughs. "Said next time I should, at least, ask you on a date."
"Mr. Miller-"
"I thought you agreed to call me Joel." He raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and you shake your head, fighting a smile.
"Joel, while I'm flattered by the offer from someone so handsome-"
"You think I'm handsome?"
"I can't date my students' parents." You say, ignoring his question, but even then, the playful look on his face doesn't fade. "Well, I can leave you to it. I know Ellie will probably want to show you around."
"Right. Of course," he says. "It's really nice to see you."
"You, too. I'm just glad I didn't have paint in my hair this time."
"I don't know. I thought it was kinda cute." You feel yourself blush at his words, but you have to shut it down before it can become anything more than flattery. You take a deep breath and try not to let that stupid smirk weaken your knees as he watches you.
"Goodnight, Joel."
"Goodnight, ma'am." He says, tipping his head politely before sauntering down the hallway like he owns the place. Trouble, you think to yourself. But you can handle trouble. It's in your job description, for Christ's sake.
So, you brush off the flirting and try to ignore how his kindness and sweet words made you feel. You absolutely cannot flirt with the parent of one of your students. Dating is completely off the table. You can handle this like an adult. You have to.
After a cold shower and a leftover dinner, you check your email once more before going to bed that night. Sitting in your inbox with alarming clarity is an email from Ellie with the subject line: Art Club. Her email is somehow just as short as her subject line.
Simply, "When can I start -E."
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Ghostlight prompt: Danny and Duke being childhood friends, but Danny tells Duke the moment the accident happens and such cause he trusts him, only for Danny to go radio silent when giw decide to block the town communications in senior year.
So Duke-does he tell Danny he's Signal or not? Up to you-gets worried the longer no contact goes by.
Maybe the away game thing seen in other posts where the sports team still does away games and Danny gets enough good will with star or dash maybe and they send a message to Duke that's some coded phrase and Duke knows shits going down?
(yourlocalcorviddad, it's a side blog so didn't want to send from main sorry)
Danny is not someone who is on his mind a lot, these days. It’s to be expected, considering how distance and their double lives eat up all the time they have to talk. Really, it’s a miracle that they were able to speak enough to learn about their own individual vigilante work, especially with Duke bouncing around foster homes for a good portion of that time.
They haven’t spoke in months but that’s normal for them.
Duke thinks he can be forgiven for not knowing something was wrong. He still won’t forgive himself for it.
“Danny’s gone?” he repeats, feeling numb. There’s static ringing in his ears, his entire world hollowing out.
The guy in front of him looks grim, unable to meet Duke’s eyes. Did he introduce himself? Duke can’t remember, can’t keep his spiraling thoughts straight in his head. “He’s gone. His entire family is gone and we haven’t been able to call for help because… well…”
“It’s those guys, right? The ones in white?”
“You know about them?”
“Danny told me. Danny told me a lot about what he did in Amity Park.”
The guy lets out a slow, relieved breath. “Good, then I don’t have to explain. Sorry, it’s just that it’s not something we talk about, especially out in the open. After the last few months, things got really bad. We know the GIW took the Fentons, but we can’t find out how or why and they’ve got us on a tight lockdown.”
“Then how did you get out?” Duke asks. Another arguably more important question pops into his mind a second later. “Actually, how do you know about Danny and… you know. The other things.”
The grimness on the guy’s expression fades away some beneath the sudden shame and embarrassment. “Oh, that. Well, I dunno how much he told you about his, like, daily life, but, um. I’m Dash. Baxter. I bullied him?”
Dash.
Dash. That’s a name he recognizes.
Danny’s complained about Dash a lot in the past. Since they were in middle school, really. Duke would always get mad on Danny’s behalf about how terribly he’s being treated, how no one would stop such obvious bullying. And every time, Danny would laugh it off and say in that soft voice of his, It’s alright, Duke, really. Having you care is more than enough for me.
It never stopped the bullying, though, but the way Danny talked about Dash changed when they both entered high school. He was still annoyed about everything Dash did, but there were less insults about him, less venting about every little thing that pissed Danny off about him, as if he just didn’t care anymore.
And there is, of course, the most memorable time Danny called Duke about Dash over the summer.
Hey, Danny, Duke had began, only to be cut off by Danny yelling, I kissed Dash?! Or he kissed me?! What am I supposed to do now!
And Duke, despite the jealousy he felt at hearing that Danny and Dash kissed, laughed so hard he cried while Danny yelled at him to be helpful.
There wasn’t any discussion on Dash since, beyond a comment here and there about a funny fanboying thing Dash had said about Phantom. The focus of their conversations shifted towards how hard it was to be heroes or vigilantes, quiet reassurances that they’re both doing the best they can, tips traded about best ways to patch themselves up and get through the night. Sometimes, it felt like Danny was the only person in the world to really know Duke; all his pain and promises, his dreams, everything he was Before and who he became in the After.
He’s missed Danny, but the last message Danny sent him told him that things were getting rough in Amity Park, and to not call or contact him until he reached out first.
So Duke trusted in Danny and focused his attention in Gotham, putting his all into becoming a better hero, someone people can rely on.
He thinks that maybe he should have fallen into the Bats’ bad habits of invading privacy to make sure Danny’s okay.
Too late for that now, though.
“I know you,” Duke says after a long moment. “He talked about you sometimes. Come with me, we have a lot to discuss.”
Dash looks appropriately nervous, but he doesn’t argue.
It’s a tense, quiet walk to the library where Barbara works. She’s stationed at the front desk when he arrives and greets him with a smile, eyes flicking towards Dash in question.
“Hey, Babs, got a private study room open?”
Her gaze sharpens and Duke can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through him, knowing that Oracle is ready to look out for him. “Let me check,” she says, turning towards the computer to click around a few pages. “Study room 8 is open.”
That’s the study room with a working lock and soundproofing. It also has cameras and a mic inside, but all the other study rooms have one too, just for safety purposes. Things could always go terribly wrong when people are locked together in a small room, and having video and audio evidence of what happened has assisted in more than a few cases.
He leads them up to the second floor, past the students studying and the group of young children in the back corner of the library listening intently to a read aloud.
The only occupied study rooms are those up front, closer to the stairs. The back rooms are empty and quiet, the perfect place for a little impromptu interrogation.
“So,” Duke says as he closes the door to study room 8 behind them. Dash sits down as if this is just a casual conversation, but the way his foot taps against the floor betrays his nerves. “Danny’s gone. And somehow, that lead you to me.”
Dash glance around, then leans closer to drop his voice into a harsh whisper. “The Guys In White got some insane upgrades a few months ago and forced every citizen of Amity Park into a surveillance state. The entire Fenton family is gone, but we all know it’s really because they want Danny.”
“Explain the situation in Amity Park some more.”
“Well. It’s like this: we didn’t take them seriously, so they upped their moves and got us trapped. No one goes in or out of Amity Park without good, verifiable reason. We have a curfew and we can be randomly stopped and searched for ectoplasm or exposure to ghosts. Most of the ghosts have left, but a few of the stronger ones hang around to cause trouble to get the GIW off our backs for a bit.”
“So how did you end up in Gotham?”
“I was invited to tour the college. And since outsiders were expecting me, the GIW let me go. But there’s definitely some that tailed me to Gotham, but I can’t find them at all. Even talking to you now is a huge risk for me.”
Which means they don’t have much time to talk before someone comes looking for Dash. His words, paired with everything Duke’s heard from Danny, paint a deeply unpleasant picture in his mind. “Are you going to be in trouble?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Danny we’re all worried about. He told me before he got caught that if anything happened to him, I should find you. Tucker helped us narrow down where exactly you are and sent you that text to get you to where we met.”
“What do you think I can do?”
“I don’t know,” Dash admits. “But Danny trusts you, and he needs your help.”
Duke was never going to say no to this request to begin with, but damn if those words don’t make him want to run to Amity Park without waiting for anyone else.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll help rescue him and bring down the GIW. You should go now, before they get too suspicious.”
“What are you planning?”
“I got a couple of friends who are good at destroying government property. Trust me, you’ll see what we’re up, we’re pretty noticeable if we’re pissed off enough.”
“Don’t take too long then,” Dash says, standing up, “I expect a good show from you. See you around, man.”
And with that, Dash pats Duke’s shoulder and leaves the study room. Duke doesn’t follow after him. He’s got a rescue to start planning, and the less time he wastes, the better.
In the end, it’s pretty simple. It’s not a hard mission at all when the time comes for them to act, but the amount of data they gather and have to shift through is daunting. But that’s more Tim and Barbara’s forte, so he trusts them to handle it.
Together with Red Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat, they hit Amity Park hard and fast.
One night was spent learning the lay of the land and every station and lab set up by the GIW. The second night was spent burning it all down and tossing open cages full of green blob ghosts and a few transparent, weakly glowing human ghosts. Stronger ghosts, glowing brightly, joined them in a few places with battle cries and maniacal laughter.
They split up and took down all the bases and patrol stations on their own, sweeping through the city like vengeful shadows.
By dawn, the GIW were in shambles, without any bases or equipment, and rounded up for arrest.
Cass was the one to find Danny and his family; his parents were forced to create weapons for the GIW under threat of Danny and Jazz’s torture. Danny was locked up like an animal and studied. Jazz had restraints on, including a muzzle, and a bloodthirsty rage in her eyes. Apparently, she had put up the most fight and, while being studied for repeated exposure to ectoplasm and radiation, started biting people.
The Fentons are big names in this conflict. Tim makes the executive decision to burn one of his out-of-state safehouses so they can hide and recover in peace, then promptly moves them into it as soon as the EMTs give them the all clear. They’re gone by the time the sun is rising over the horizon, and the curious Amity Parkers that have gathered behind the blockade of police cars have to be reassured that the Fentons have been taken away for their protection, not for further abuses. Even then, tensions are high and the locals are clearly prepared to start rioting now that they have a chance to fight back.
As vigilantes, they’re not meant to interact with cops much. Perhaps it’s simply their experiences in Gotham that keep them at a distance, disappearing into the neighborhood the moment attention shifts off of them. Either way, Duke is hurrying out of Amity Park with the rest of the team on his heels, eager to return to Gotham and follow up on their own leads to make sure the GIW is properly gutted and dismantled.
Duke heads off for the Hatch as soon as they reach Gotham, hoping to shed the suit and finally be able to call Danny. The guilt of not noticing how bad things had gotten rolls through his stomach, and more than that, he’s missed hearing Danny’s voice.
The first few calls go straight to voicemail. Duke leaves a quick message asking Danny to let him know how he’s doing as soon as he can talk.
Then he goes for a shower and to change into civilian clothes, prepared to make his way to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know how everything went. And hopefully distract him from his Disappointed Father/Leader Lecture about taking on missions behind his back, as if Duke can’t handle himself. And also because Bruce has no leg to stand on when it comes to this. He’s fully prepared to throw that entire lecture back into his face at a moment’s notice.
The post-mission exhaustion is hitting him hard and fast. Duke has to brace himself against the wall once he’s out of the shower, resisting the urge to just lie on the floor and sleep there until he starts feeling more human.
Somehow, he gets himself into some sweatpants and a plain shirt, pulls on a pair of mismatched socks, and begins gathering his things so he can get to the Batcave.
He’s in no state to be driving. Maybe someone would be willing to take him there?
Just as he reaches for his phone to thumb through his contacts and see who he can bother, it buzzes in his hand. Duke blames the way he jumps on his exhaustion, then blinks his tired eyes to squint at the name that pops up onto the screen.
Danny.
All at once, his exhaustion fades away. A rush of adrenaline runs through him as he scrambles to accept the call, already pacing around the room so he doesn’t fall asleep.
“Hello?”
There’s a moment of silence, then the exhale of a breath that turns to static over the call. “Duke,” Danny’s tired voice says. “Duke…”
“You doing okay? I couldn’t get to you before you and your family had to leave and go into hiding, but I’ve been worried about you, man.”
“I’m good. We’re all fine, now. Fentons are strong, you know? We’ll bounce back in no time.”
From what he’s heard about Danny’s family, that’s most definitely true. He’s seen the pictures of walls Jack Fenton has burst through with his body. It’ still hard to believe that no one in the family is a meta, outside of Danny.
“You need anything? I can get it to you, just say the word. Anything at all.”
Danny hums, then asks with a playful note in his voice, “Anything?”
“Anything.”
“I need you. How fast can you come meet me? I’ll even pay for express delivery.”
Duke laughs, so relieved at hearing the lightness return to Danny’s voice that he feels weak in the knees. “It’ll be at least two days. I gotta sleep and debrief with Batman before I can see you. It’s gonna take some time to get out of Gotham again.”
“Maybe I can go to you, instead,” Danny suggests. “Fly over and be there is less than an hour.”
“Are you in any shape to be flying right now?”
“I’m fine! Already healing and everything,” Danny insists.
“It might be dangerous if any rogue GIW agents go after you.”
“Well,” Danny says, “That’s why I need to get to my knight in shining armor sooner rather than later, right?”
Duke bites his lip to fight back a smile, blinking his eyes forcefully to keep them from closing under the heavy weight of exhaustion. “Does that make you a damsel in distress?”
“I mean, I did need rescuing, so I guess? I’m not much of a damsel, but I could put on a pretty dress for you. It’ll be like playing pretend when we were kids.”
“Oh, man, I kinda miss those poofy dresses. I think I could still rock on, put it on top of the armor when I go out for patrol.”
Danny snickers. “Signal: the most well dressed vigilante in Gotham.”
“That’s me, baby!”
The last of the agonizing fear that’s choked him since he first talked to Dash finally melts away. Danny’s fine now. Everything’s okay; the GIW are done for and there’s plenty of people willing to look out for the Fentons. This will never happen again.
“Hey,” Danny says, voice suddenly turing more serious. “Send me your location. I wasn’t joking when I said I could fly over to you. And before you say anything! I do need it; Jazz and my parents are smothering me and I just need to get away from everything and pretend all of this never happened.”
The admission softens Duke, makes him shove away everything that tells him this is a bad idea, that Danny needs more rest first, that having Danny fly over alone and without warning any of the Bats fills Duke with anxiety.
He does miss Danny. More than he can put into words.
“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Come meet me, Danny.”
He texts Danny the location of the Hatch before common sense tells him to be more careful with his base of operations. Not that it matters, anyways; if there’s anyone in the world he trusts with everything, it’s Danny.
Then he sends the Bats a quick text saying he’s crashing in the Hatch and to not bother him until the sun is fully up two days from now. Oracle gives him a thumbs up emoji, which is a good guarantee that she will personally see to it that no non-emergency messages interrupt his rest and recovery time.
Duke has no idea how long it will take Danny to get to the Hatch, so he putters around, cleaning up the space and straightening it out in an attempt to keep busy enough that he doesn’t crash. Travel really takes it out of him. It’s one of the cons of being born and raised in Gotham: he doesn’t have the stamina to travel outside of it, especially when they were there and back in less than three days.
Thank god for Tim’s many motorcycles and his tendency to see the speed limit as a weak suggestion that can be ignored while on a mission.
Ultimately, the call of sleep is too strong to resist.
One moment, Duke is sorting through files on the Hatch’s computer, and the next moment, he’s face down on a bed with his face shoved into a pillow.
Blearly, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and send Danny a typo-ridden text that hopefully gets across the message of might be asleep so just come in, don’t wait for me to answer the door.
He’s out like a light as soon as it sends. The last thing Duke registers is his phone dropping out of his hand and falling against the mattress with a little bounce.
When he begins to wake up, something’s changed. As much as he wants to go back to sleep, awareness comes back to him slowly and Duke forces himself to claw his way out of unconsciousness to figure out what, exactly, is bothering him so much. Until he figures out what’s changed in the room, he won’t be able to sleep because he’ll be worried about someone breaking in.
His mind comes back online long before his body does. It’s only when he tries to move that Duke realizes he’s no longer alone on the bed; there’s someone wrapped up in his arms, body temperature a little too cool to be a normal human.
Blinking open his eyes, Duke looks down at the head of messy black hair and feels Danny’s soft breath ghost across his chest.
“Danny?” he manages to say, voice rough with sleep.
Danny hums and doesn’t move.
“Hey, look up. Let me see if you’re really alright.”
“Mmm, no,” Danny mumbles, burrowing his face into Duke’s chest some more. “‘m sleepy.”
A good argument. Duke is also sleepy.
“Fine,” he says, “Check in the morning, then. G’night, Danny.”
“Night, Duke. Thanks for saving me.”
He tightens his grip on Danny, contentment burning warm in his chest. “Always, Danny. I’ll always save you.”
That’s why he’s a hero, after all. To save others, to reach a hand out to everyone the way he needed when he was younger. To keep the people he loves safe. To make sure Danny always finds a way back to him.
This is what makes all the pain of this lifestyle worth it.
Danny makes everything worth it.
(@yourlocalcorviddad tagging to make sure you see this!)
#ghostlights#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp#dp x dc#prompt fill#my writing#i thought up a whole backstory to the duke/dash kiss (accidental. embarrassing for both parties) but it didnt fit w the rest of the fic so#its not included. i can include it in a rb if u want tho!!#my sleepy boys..... they go thru so much but at the end of the day they always feel at home with each other#childhood friends duke/danny is so important to me#also couldnt think of a coded phrase sorry. now we just have dash walking up to duke like HEY. HELP DANNY. and duke went with it#thanks for the prompt!!
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From parents to babies - Batfam x fem!reader
Synopsis : You and Bruce got turned into toddlers !! Shenanigans ensue, of course.
This is part of a little “series” I guess, here’s the first part with Jason : Jason Todd(ler). I’m planning on writing a lil story for all the kids hehe, but I thought : “hey, what about Batmom and Bruce ?” and here we are. Hope you’ll like this !
Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.
My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives
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“Bruce !”
“(Y/N) !”
You manage to scream each other’s names before-
Before a white flash engulfed the both of you, and you suddenly disappeared, only a pool of your clothes remaining where you once stood.
“Nooooo !!” is the last thing you hear before your mind goes blank, and you recognize the voice as being your youngest son’s, Damian. The sound of his scream greatly distresses you, but alas, you cannot do anything to help as you feel yourself slowly fading away and-
Footsteps. Running fast to reach the place you stood on merely seconds before. But you’re not there anymore, you’re not there !
“It’s not possible !”
That’s Jason. His voice breaking at the end of his sentence, as he approaches the bunch of clothes left on the floor, a lump in his throat as the inevitable is starting to be clearer and clearer, and he cannot refuse reality anymore.
Vaporized. His parents just got vaporized by that wannabe-magician’s laser !
In the mess of it all, that asshole even escaped ! Which was a good thing, in a way, because Jason promised you and Bruce he would never kill again, but he wasn’t sure he could hold that promise if he was faced with the man who took away his beloved parents.
You all only just made peace with each other, only just became a family again ! How was he suppose to go on losing you once more ?
Dick was the first to reach the spot in which you were. He had always been the fastest of them all. His heart beats too fast in his chest, and he has this horrible thought that it’s the second time he sees his parents being killed right in front of him when-
Movements. Small movements. There, amongst his father’s suit. And there, amongst his mother’s clothes. And then-
Little hands. Fighting to find an exit in this labyrinth of fabrics. Little grunts of frustration, like when a child is trying to do something but doesn’t quite manage to do it. Finally finding an out. And-
“Oh shit.”
Dick says, as he stares at- Two kids ??
One, a little boy. who couldn’t be more than two years old, black hair, bright blue eyes. The second one, (E/C) eyes and (H/C) hair and-
“Oh shit.”
Tim says, as he’s the second one to reach the place and he immediately understands that his parents aren’t dead, but rather...
They’ve been turned into toddlers !
“Oh shit !” You exclaim happily, giggling.
“Oh shit !” Baby Bruce repeats, and you both look at each other and giggle even more. Damn it. They’ve been in the care of children for only a second, and they already taught you bad words !
Bruce reaches for you, and there’s no doubt now that those two kids are indeed you and your husband ! Because immediately, you move closer to each other, your clothe much too big for you now being like blankets on you.
Dick picks the both of you up, wrapping you in the cloths, and turns around to greet his siblings.
Slowly, all your children reach you and-
“Oh shit !” You and Bruce say in unison, proud to show everyone (whomever those people were) that new word you just learned.
And “oh shit” indeed, is on all of your kids’ mind.
************
Of course, it had to happen when Alfred was away on his one vacation a year...Of freaking course.
It wouldn’t be funny otherwise, right ?
Only Alfred, could find a solution to this problem ! Your kids were totally lost !
Evidently, neither you nor Bruce remembered who you really were. You were clearly just two two years old.
And it seemed you didn’t mind being picked up by people you didn’t know, as long as you could stay together (you two downright SCREAMED so loudly, when Jason tried to take you from Dick’s arms so his brother wouldn’t have to hold the both of you).
It was as if that, at least, remained. Your bond.
As if you were just- Instant friends, or something.
They got you home, and :
“Ok, any of you ever took care of babies ?”
“Me not baby !” You say, glaring at your oldest son. It’s true, you knew you were two (somehow), you were no baby anymore !
“I’m sorry mom, I just- Oh gods this is so weird.”
And it truly was, weird, to see their parents, the two people they knew they could always count on if they had a problem, being literal children.
They couldn’t call them for help, you guys barely knew how to properly walk ! And had a very small vocabulary, too...Dick shook his head. This wasn’t a time to diss babies, this really wasn’t the time !
“Ok, first things first, we need to find them clothes. Duke, Jason, go the a shop and get them some stuffs to wear. While Cass and I will go buy some food for them. Damian and Dick, stay here and take care of them.” Aaaah Tim, ever so pragmatic. In a matter of seconds, he had gotten over the shock of the situation, and was taking matter in his own hands.
And it was good. It was a start. They had no idea what they were going to do after, except the fact they had to find a way to get you back to normal. But at least, they had the beginning of a plan.
They knew they could all count on Tim for plans. From A to Z, he would find a way. He had no idea how to take care of babies, of course, but his mind could find solutions to every problems.
Yes. Yes. They only had to start moving. And things would be alright. They could do this.
They could do this.
They had to do this, for both your sake.
************
Officially, Bruce and (Y/N) Wayne went away on a surprise vacation. Your disappearance had to be explained.
None of your kids called Alfred, the butler deserved his annually vacation after all, and they knew he would come right home if he heard. So they let him be, and started to take care of their “baby parents”.
Brucie ish scared
Before being the way Gotham’s media, models and such, called him when he still had his playboy persona, and not his “family man” one that he now had, “Brucie” was the nickname his mom gave him.
Never in public, of course, but when they were home. When she was telling him bed time stories or singing lullabies to him. When she woke him up, gently, in the mornings. When she told him to come home for dinner, as he was playing in the garden.
“Brucie”, was a name Bruce always associated with his mother’s affection and love. Which is why he hated how the media, and certain people, self-appropriated that name, and associated it with that persona who wasn’t even himself.
It’s not like he could do anything about it, though. He had a role to play.
And so, “Brucie” became that “other him”, while initially, it was his true self...
It had been years, since anyone had called him that. He wasn't a playboy, anymore, and your little nickname for him (aside from “my heart” and other term of endearment) was “my Broosh”.
And so finally, this name came full circle.
Brucie.
That’s how he called himself. Toddlers had that tendency to talk about themselves in the third person, sometimes. And Bruce, was referring to himself as “Brucie”, not “Bruce”.
Your children were a hundred percent sure it was because even if he didn’t seem to ask for his parents, a part of him remembered them, and how his mom called him.
Even turned into a toddler who didn’t remember much of his own life, Bruce still had his parents in mind.
And so he called himself Brucie.
And Brucie was a scaredy cat !
The irony of which didn’t escape any of your kids.
What, the “fearless Batman” was afraid of literally everything ? That was funny. Dick made sure to take PLENTY of videos (just if he needed leverage for something one day).
Brucie got scared of the vacuum cleaner. Brucie got scared of the dark. Brucie got scared of any noise that was too loud. Brucie got scared whenever (Y/N) wasn’t around. Brucie-
“Brucie ish scared !” He’d whimper, and run towards the closest “adult” he could find (any of your children, though over half of them were far from being official adults), seeking comfort.
Every time, and it was the most adorable thing to witness, you’d rush to him, and hold him saying : “No scared Brooshie, no scared, me here. Me here.”
First, “Brooshie” = so darn cute, a toddler adaptation of the traditional “Broosh”. Second, the way you’d shield him in your little arms, and how he’d hide his face and close his eyes, how he’d hold onto you and calm down as you told him to not be scared, it had to be peak adorableness.
And in a way, toddlers you were a good reflection of adults you.
Bruce was no longer scared, in the strictest sense of the term. He had shunned all his emotions, locked them away deep in his heart, for years. Ignored his pain, and the remnant of his fears.
And then you came in, and forced open his heart, shattering all the walls he build for years, and making it impossible for him to live without you (and vice versa).
Just as Baby Bruce found comfort and safety in your arms, just as he was soothed by your voice, Adult Bruce knew he could always be safe and warm in your embrace.
Nobody, when witnessing such scenes, could even dare say you weren’t made for each other.
DICK
It was so weird.
Dick just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you two were turned into kids. Like, what ?
His...parents were now younger than him. How weird was that ??
Of course, he knew he should be used to weird things by now. After all, over the years, from when he first became Robin to now, he had seen his fair share of strange stuffs. But this-
This was really, really odd.
“Ick !” was the name you and Bruce decided to give him. No matter how many times he made you repeat it, you could never truly manage to say his name properly. And so, he was now “Ick”.
And “Ick” had no clue how to take care of children.
Was this how Bruce felt, when he officially adopted him ? Was this how you felt, when you became his mom while being so young ?
Of course, Dick was older when he first arrived. But he was also a lot more traumatized. And he knew he could be difficult, at times. He could be so damn angry, back then.
While you and Bruce ? You were adorable kids. You’d listen to him, and never talk back. What, you were supposed to be in your “terrible twos” era, yet it seemed like you were just good kids.
Of course, the fact that your eldest son let you do absolutely everything you wanted might’ve been a reason as to why you two were so “nice” with him, and didn’t throw any tantrum.
No tantrum needed, when the person taking care of you would let you do whatever you wanted.
You didn’t wanna wear pants ? No problems. You didn’t want to eat your vegetables, but wanted sweets instead ? All good. You didn’t want to take a nap ? Then he could play with you a little longer.
Yes. It became quite apparent that Dick could not resist you, at all.
Which wasn’t much of a surprise, really. Because he was the same way with his siblings. They could make him do whatever they wanted to (outside of work, of course. When they were vigilantes, it was an entire other story, but it was because he often had to take the “leader” job, and a mistake could cost a life).
And so, even though he found it extremely weird, and couldn’t quite call you “mom” and “dad” anymore (and who would blame him ?), he didn’t hate taking care of you.
He sort of saw it as “payback”, for all the years you put up with his moods. For all the time you didn’t give up on him, and all the moments you were there to catch him when he fell.
The reason he found it so hard to accept and fathom the situation, was because you and Bruce had become such “safety nets”, for him.
You were his parents. He couldn’t think of a life without you. Without your guidance. Without your soothing words. Without your scolding, when he needed one. Without-
He couldn’t accept this turn of event, because he needed you. He had pushed you enough, in his teenage years and early adulthood. Now, he realized he absolutely needed his parents.
He had to find a solution, and fast. Because although he didn’t mind taking care of you as you were nice kids, he just wanted his parents back.
JASON
Jason was the most responsible one.
Which, when people knew your children, wasn’t that surprising.
He’d always been a responsible kid, despite what anyone could think.
He was a really good big brother, always looking out for his little siblings, and being there to be their voice of reason (Dick being his...he had a "decent teacher”).
And so he became the “mom” of the house (it’s a nickname Tim, Duke and Damian gave him, when he wasn’t there).
He had always loved cooking, ever since he was a kid. So he took it upon himself to cook healthy meals for both you and Bruce, and would scold Dick whenever he’d caught his brother red handed giving you candies and other ice cream right before dinner !
Bruce hated carrots, and you despised spinach. Other than that, it seemed you were willing to try everything he made for you two.
Jason spend hours on the internet searching for recipes fit for two years old, for things you should feed kids this young. And he came up with quite a diet for the both of you.
The food he made was delicious (and more than once, he caught one of his sibling eating from your spoon instead of feeding you !).
Jason would be the one to remind everyone of yours and Bruce’s bed time. After all, “bed time” in the Wayne household had always been a little;..different, to say the least. But with toddlers ? It couldn’t be. It had to be regular, or they’d be too tired.
Jason made a carefully planned sleep schedule for his “parents”. And when he wasn’t the one babysitting at night (they all took shifts so they could still do their vigilante jobs), he would call his sibling when it was bed time to make sure they’d respect it. He would genuinely harass Dick, because he knew his older brother was “weak” and could never refuse puppy eyes (after all, he abused of that technique to get him to do whatever he wanted, when he was younger), and he had to be reminded that a regular bed time was important !
How odd it was, for thugs, being downright beaten down by the scary Red Hood, while the latter would talk in his income and say things like : “I can’t believe you gave them ice cream before sleepy time again !” and others : “They’re babies, they need at least ten hours of sleep !”
Jason didn’t let any tantrum through. Where Dick would just let you and Bruce do whatever you wanted, Jason had clear limits.
Because that is how you raised him. Sure, Bruce could be a little too strict sometimes, especially with Dick. But he had grown as a father, and slowly learned the difference between being too rigid and allowing his kids to be kids.
Jason often joked that Dick was the “trial and error” era, but he wasn’t too far off. With Dick, you and Bruce made plenty of mistakes. You did with your other kids too, of course, but with your eldest most of all. Because he was your first child, and you had no idea what you were doing at the time.
But, yes. Jason knew the importance of limits, for children. Kids needed boundaries, so they could feel safe. He knew, because it totally worked on him.
And so, you’d have a tantrum ? Too bad, you’d just have to calm down and ask again nicely. Jason was intransigeant.
He was, though, the first one there if you or Bruce woke up crying during the night. And he’d take you in his arms (always the both of you at the same time), and sing to you. Or tell you stories. Up until you’d fall asleep again.
Jason, although he had strict schedules and food diet, was such a gentle soul. Such a gentle carer. You knew that one day, he would make a great dad. And if that experience taught any of you anything, it was that yes, yes.
Jason told would one day make a wonderful father.
TIM
"I think he doesn’t like me...”
Tim said, deflated and defeated, as, once again, his dad (in baby form) cowered away from him as he approached.
You ? You enjoyed being taken care of by Tim. You liked him very much. But for some reasons, “Brucie” seemed scared of him.
“Don’t say that. I think he’s just- shy.”
“Conner, honey, I appreciate you trying to comfort me, but if he was truly shy, he wouldn’t just- Oh come on !”
Of course, Bruce chose that exact moment to jump in Conner’s arms, and to hide his face in his chest so he wouldn’t see Tim anymore. Superboy chuckled uncomfortably, trying to act as if it wasn’t because Bruce was scared or anything, but Tim couldn’t be fooled.
Tim could never be fooled.
And so he sighed, and held you a little closer. At least, his mom always loved him, no matter what age she was.
You seemed to understand that Bruce’s actions made Tim sad, and even as a toddler, it greatly distressed you to see one of your “kids” sad. So you wiggled to signify to Tim that you want him to put you back down and-
“Oh, not you too, mom ?”
You walk towards Conner, and Tim looks even sadder, as now, both of his “parents” seem to like others better than him...Even if they were just kids, and that Tim knew they weren’t doing it on purpose, his feelings were still hurt.
But then-
You shake Conner’s pants, signifying for him to crouch down to your level. Baby Bruce is in his arms, and beams as he sees you.
“’Own, ‘own !” He says, meaning “down”, and Conner puts him next to you.
Immediately, Bruce takes your hand, and smiles widely. Which comforts Tim a little. At least, even as toddlers, it seemed you two were inseparable.
But then, you drag him towards Tim, and it’s obvious Bruce only follows because he seems very attached to you. The little boy does not want to be there, in front of Timothy Wayne-Drake.
And Tim looks down, sadly. He ruffles your hair affectionately, and says :
“Good try mom, good try. But I don't think he likes me, at all.”
You look at Tim, and then turns around towards Bruce, who was currently hiding behind you (how cute it was, that you always seemed to protect him when he was scared). But this time, you’d have none of it.
Very much alike when you were adults, and you took none of your husband’s shit. You’d always set him back on track. Always.
And so, toddler you said :
“Bwooshie, Tim nice ! Tim good ! Tim fwiend !”
You let go of Bruce’s hand, and the boy whimpers and tries to catch your hand again, but takes a few steps back because he doesn’t want to get too close from Tim. But then-
Then you hop in Tim’s arms, and you snuggle against him. You smile at Bruce, and nods at him saying again : “Tim fwiend ! Tim nice !” and your son cannot help himself and hold you tight.
Even turned into a toddler, he could count on his mama to cheer him up, it seemed...
Slowly, unsure, Bruce approached Tim. The boy was still obviously wary, but those were first steps.
After a while, Bruce finally came towards Tim, and laid his hands on your son’s knees.
He looked deeply into Tim’s eyes, and must’ve finally decided that he wasn’t so scary, because then, he climbed into his laps and everything was resolved.
And oh, oh how much this meant to Tim...
DAMIAN
“Father, you need to give her some air. I swear, even as children you two are impossible !”
“AAAAAAAAAAH !” is Bruce’s response, as Damian tries to take him away from you. Apparently, young Bruce seemed to think screaming was an appropriate response to show his unwillingness to do something.
And it frustrated Damian greatly.
You had fallen asleep on the floor. Laid on your back, you were in a deep slumber, a pacifier in your mouth, your breathing regular. And Bruce was sitting next to you, your head was in his lap, and he was watching TV as one of his hand was on your head, the other one on your cheek.
He too, had a pacifier in his mouth, and although he was focused on the TV show he was watching, it seemed like he had absolutely no intention on letting you go.
When Damian entered the room, he found the both of you like that, and decided it would be better if you slept in your bed. So he went to pick you up, gently taking his father’s hands off of you and-
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH !” The pacifier falls from his mouth, as he tightens his grip on you, and glares at a bewildered Damian.
You’re so deep asleep that you don’t budge, and then Bruce, after glaring some more at Damian, turns back to watch the TV.
But Damian will have none of it. “Be firm, sometimes.” Jason told him, and he was going to take his big brother advice to heart ! And so he made Bruce let go, and took you into his arms.
After a pause, as Baby Bruce was too shocked to react, his mouth slowly turned down into a frown and-
The little boy bursted into tears. Big, real tears. Ugly sobs with lots of snots running down his nose.
And it made Damian panic.
He hated that. He hated those cries. It reminded him of so many bad memories. He couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t bear it.
Even less so knowing this was his dad !
And so he quickly went to the floor, and took little Bruce in his arms, soothing him expertly as he was still holding you in his other arms.
His shirt was wet from Bruce holding onto it and burying his face into it. But eventually, the boy’s sobs died down, and-
Asleep.
Bruce was fast asleep, too. And his little face looked so at ease.
There. In Damian’s arms, a hand holding one of your hand.
It reminded him of his father as an adult, in fact. How sometimes, he would surprise you and him as you fell asleep on the couch in each other’s arms. And how his father’s face would look the most relaxed and pleased, when you were holding him...
Damian tightened his grip on both of you. He was ready to protect you even if it meant he would have to sacrifice himself !
And oh- Oh he felt something growing inside him. Something important.
Eventually, you and Bruce would be back to normal. He knew it, he knew his siblings would figure something out. Yes. You’d become his parents again.
But he-
He somehow wanted a baby, in this house.
CASS
You both clearly adored Cass.
You would walk towards her, and demand for her to pick you up. And then, when she would inevitably do it, you’d both snuggle against her and quickly fall asleep, absolutely content.
Damian mentioned that he read somewhere that children felt people’s calmness. And so he conjectured that you liked falling asleep on her, because you felt calmed and secure.
Which was the truth.
It made Cass’ heart melt. She, for obvious reasons, never held children before. And she definitely never thought that the first kids she would hold would be her own parents...
Physical touch had always soothed Cass.
Before she met you and Bruce, she was never allowed to be touch, and to touch other. She’d never receive a hug, or a soothing kiss.
Never.
So when you adopted her, she swore she’d take every opportunity to snuggle against you. Against her parents. Oh, and her brothers. None of them could resist a hug from her, not even Jason or Damian.
If Cass wanted a hug, she would have it.
So, she felt so fulfilled, when baby you and baby Bruce came to seek hugs from her. As if everything went full circle.
You and your husband gave her the comfort of parental love. Gave her the safety of your arms, and taught her how important it was to have people you loved close.
And here she was, soothing little versions of you, making you stop crying just by holding you.
Yes. It was a full, nice, comforting and warm circle.
And Cass felt so happy, when you hugged her. Whether you were kids or adults.
DUKE
Duke had tons of little cousins.
Cousins he still saw now, of course. None of his uncles and aunts could take him in, for different reasons (the main one being that none of them lived in Gotham anymore, what happened to Duke’s parents being the last straw...And Duke did not want to leave the city just yet). But he still stayed in contact with them.
Before they all moved, Duke, who was the oldest of the kids in his family, used to babysit his cousins all the time. So, he had experience with children.
And it showed.
With you and Bruce, he was nice, yet strict. He (and Jason) was the only one who didn’t let you do whatever you wanted, and who would plainly ignore any of your tantrums.
He was the only one able to detach himself from the fact you were his parents, and viewed you as normal children he had to take care of.
This is probably what saved him. What made him be able to live with that situation. Just like Dick, he really wanted you back to normal. But his defense mechanism was to pretend you weren’t you, but random kids he had in his care.
It was a lot, for a seventeen years old, but Duke was strong.
You’d always known he was strong, from the moment he became your ward, to now, as he was officially adopted and called you “mom”.
For his own sanity, Duke viewed this as a “baby sitter” job, and so, on purpose, didn’t get attached to baby you and baby Bruce too much. He didn't want to, because he didn’t want you to stay like that.
He wanted his parents back too, he needed you still, he was too young to lose parents a second time !
And so Duke shut his feelings away, and took care of you as if you weren’t really you. He gave you lots of care and love, as a child needed, but-
But he pretended you, as his parents, were away for a while. And constantly thought of a plan to get you back to your normal self.
They never sleep alone
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !!” Baby Bruce screamed, as loud as he could, holding onto your hands for dear life.
“Me not want, me not want !” You say, kicking Dick with your little legs and holding Brucie’s hands too.
Your kids quickly realized that they COULD NOT separate you for bed time.
They had bought two children’s bed, but in the end, only one was used. You’d fall asleep all snuggled to each others, pacifier in your mouth.
“It’s- Kind of like when they’re grown up.” Damian says, and they all nod.
Yes. Yes it’s true that you two found it really hard to find sleep, when the other one was absent. True insomnia would hit you, in the event that one of you couldn’t be here for the night.
What transpired in your toddler form, how you’d scream if separated, also existed with the adult versions of you.
And it comforted your children, in a way.
They knew that their parents were still in there, somewhere.
ACE
“Doggy !” Little Bruce beamed happily, as he ran as fast as he could towards..Well, his dog, actually.
Ace was taken aback, at first, as he recognized his master’s smell, but couldn’t figure out why he was so...small.
Bruce ran to him, and literally fell on the dog hugging him tightly.
“Doggy !” The little boy said, and your children felt their heart melt.
None of them ever thought they’d ever call their dad “cute”, despite you trying to convince them that he really could be cute (some would say you were biased).
But here, in that moment, as their dad seemed so damn happy just because of his dog, no other words came to their minds.
Cute.
Unruly little buggers !!
You two, together, could be...
“Tornadoes !! They’re goddamn tornadoes !!” Jason screams, as he was running after you.
You were wearing only your diaper, managing to escape the grasp of your son by taking sharp turns there and there, and knocking down every single things on your way.
On the other side of the living room, Tim and Damian were trying to catch Bruce, as he was doing the exact same things.
Ten seconds.
They left the both of you alone for less than ten seconds !!
And when they came back, you and Bruce apparently had decided that it was fun to break extremely valuable objects, including vase, and a large array of ornaments.
You were giggling like a little devil, as you slowly devastated the living room.
“Alfred is going to kill us !” Duke says, holding his head in his hands, standing there watching the disaster unfold in front of him. What else could he do, really, when some of Gotham’s mightiest heroes couldn’t even get a hold of you ??
Finally, Jason catches you, just as Tim lunges forward and grasp his dad as well. The two of you wiggle like snakes as you try to get away, but you do not cry.
No, on the contrary, you both laugh way too loudly, probably thinking that “destroying the house” was a great game.
And your kids could swear that your laughs were genuine “evil laughs”.
Later, on the security camera, they’d know what happened.
At first, you were both sitting on the floor, playing with toys, waiting patiently. But then, Bruce got on his feet, and walked that wobbly unsure walk all children have at first towards the coffee table.
Something had caught his attention. It was a small crystal vase, that Alfred had put there years ago, for decoration. It went splendidly with the carpet, and matched the room perfectly.
And it was shiny, and Bruce wanted it.
He tried to climb on the coffee table, wiggling his little butt to give himself some momentum and get on it...but he couldn’t do it. That’s when you came into action, and pushed him so he would get on.
He turned around, and giggled, as if to thank you, and then-
Then he brought you the vase.
It was quite adorable, really. He wanted it, because it was shiny and looked cool. But then he decided to give it to you, instead.
He let himself fall on the floor from the coffee table once he gave you the vase, and you both stared at it for a second. Before, for some reason, you took it and threw it hard on the wall !
Seriously, sometimes, kids were absolutely impossible to understand. What made you want to suddenly throw that vase like that ? Nobody would ever know. But what was known, is that it seemed like both you and Bruce liked that, because you looked at each others, as if conniving, and pushed yourself off of the floor, standing up.
And then, as your children entered the room with some food, you proceeded to start destroying everything you could get your hands on, up until they finally managed to get a hold on you.
And your downright EVIL laughter filled the room.
Your kids were DEFINITELY going to get that security camera footage out one day again, if you ever decided to punish them or scold them about something.
Back to normal
Zatanna, as usual, to the rescue.
When your kids were finally able to reach her. She arrived barely minutes after they exposed the problems to her. She had been in another dimension, and therefor couldn’t be reached for a while.
From her understanding, it’s been almost a month since you turned into toddlers. And finally, she was there (which was good, because Alfred’s one month vacation a year was coming to an end, and your kids really wanted to pretend nothing ever happened).
Ah but she was accompanied by an unwanted visitor...
“What are you doing here, Constantine ?” Damian asks, holding you in one arm, and his father in the other. Protectively.
“What, I learn that the big bad bat got turned into a kid and you think I could miss that ? No bloody way haha. Curiosity got the best of me !”
“I’m sorry guys, I didn’t mean to tell him but he was there when you called...”
“It’s all good aunt Z, it’s all good. To be fair, I was hoping someone else would see this too, so we can NEVER let them forget they had to wear diapers again haha.”
“Grayson !” your youngest son exclaimed. It’s been a while, since Damian called Dick “Grayson”, but he was absolutely shocked about this “betrayal” !
“Ok, ok. Let’s make sure dad never forget he had to wear diaper again !”
Damian thought about it for a while, and then said : “And you’ll leave mom alone ?”
“Yes, promised.” Dick says, and Constantine nods too (he wasn’t about to mock you anyway, he was too scared of you).
“Alright, then it’s acceptable.”
And on that note, Zatanna started a ritual.
************
“What the hell happened ??” Are Bruce’s first words. And then, he sees you, and takes you into his arms, holding you with almost too strongly.
“I thought I had lost you...” He whispers, and you hold him back just as strongly, because you had the same thought. The last thing you remembered, after all, was that laser coming towards the two of you and then-
And then what ?
After letting you hug each other, your children finally tell you what went on.
And oh. Oh you were so damn proud of them, they did so good !
I want a baby sibling
A few weeks went by.
A few weeks, during which both Dick and John Constantine flooded the group chat all the supers had together with baby pictures of the Batman (oddly enough, they didn’t divulge any picture of you...probably because you scared them a little), and embarrassing videos. It was an endless source of jokes, and teasing from everyone.
But you didn’t worry too much though, you knew your husband would have his revenge (in fact, you were more worried for your son and for Constantine than anything else).
In any case, that episode would be soon behind you, save for a few mockeries there and there. At least, that’s what you thought.
One morning, Damian just casually entered your bedroom and stood before your bed, staring at the two of you, as you were slowly leaving the dream world.
You thought it was an emergency, at first, as none of your children would ever dare to just walk in your bedroom like that (lest they witness something that could scar them for life). But Damian calculated the risks.
It was much too early, for either of you to be awake. So it was safe. And so he came in, without knocking, and planted his feet resolutely in the floor, his hands on his waist, staring the both of you down.
“What is it, buddy ?” You ask, half-asleep. Bruce, his hair a mess, sat up, dazed.
“I came to an important decision. One taken in the light of recent events.”
Confused, neither you nor your husband say anything. Waiting for what your son is going to say next. Slowly, he turns around, and starts to walk left, then right, then left...Pacing in front of your bed, his eyes never leaving you two.
Finally, he stops, and solemnly says :
“I want a baby sibling. Sister or brother I do not care, I just want a little one to take care of, and to be a big brother. I think, I am done being the youngest.”
Bruce stares dumbly at his son, his face blank and expressionless, sure now that he must still be dreaming. And you’re not doing any better. You blink fast a few time, and repeat :
“A baby sibling ?”
Damian doesn’t miss a beat as he says :
“That’s right. Like I said, a little brother or sister, it does not matter to me, as long as it’s mine. My little brother or sister, I mean. Of course, they’ll be their own person, and we won’t own them per se. We’ll just take care of them.”
Silence.
A long silence.
Finally broken by your son :
“Well. I’ll leave you to it then. I expect you will take my request seriously. We will talk about it again another day. Thank you for listening to me, and see you at breakfast.”
And on that note, your son leaves just as casually, as you look at him, astonished.
You turn to your husband and-
You know what he’s thinking. You and Bruce never talked about having biological children, because the kids you already have were always enough for your happiness. You didn’t need more, you already loved them so much.
But you both always told yourselves that if it were to happen...
Of course, you would accept it. You would raise that child with joy, too. It would be quite a bonus, to an already happy life.
And so as your son leaves, and you look at each others you think-
A baby in the house, wouldn’t be so bad.
__________________________________________________
Well, here we are ! I hope you liked this ! As per usual, comments/reblogs are more than welcomed, and always a great motivation to post more :). Don’t hesitate to tell me what you thought of this ! It always makes the time spend on a story worth it, when I hear from y’all :) <3. Thanks in advance, and thanks for reading this, too ! See you soon with another story !
#Batmom#Bruce Wayne x reader#Batman x reader#Jason Todd x reader#Red Hood x reader#Richard Grayson x reader#Nightwing x reader#Batfam#Batfam x reader#Batmom x Batfam#Damian Wayne x reader#Robin x reader#Tim Drake x reader#Red Robin x reader#Cass Cain x reader#Batgirl x reader#Black Bat x reader#Bruce Wayne imagine#Batman imagine#Duke Thomas x reader#The Signal x reader#Batfamily x reader#Batfamily#Batman#Nightwing#Robin#Red Hood#fem!reader
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max the extra wag l Max Verstappen
a/n: this is so bad im sorry but it just came to my mind! I hope to post the second part of the Lando break up series tomorrow, hopefully after he gets on the podium!!!!
pairing: Max Verstappen x female reader
genre: fluff
FIND THE REST OF MAX THE WAG SERIES HERE
summary: you can't keep up with all the drama outside the track, but your boyfriend keeps you updated.
It's not like you didn't check social media or that your algorithm didn't show you edits of your boyfriend driving, trauma dumping, looking cute and hot as always, but after a couple of weeks being exploited as an intern, you didn't really have the time to keep up with the usual gossip from Max's work.
Monaco GP, 2023
It was great to be home. The best of the Monaco Grand Prix was that you could sleep on your own bed, you and Max could walk back home hand in hand, stopping to buy things you may need: sweets to fill your purse to binge while sitting on the garage, the special herbal blend Max liked to have before going to bed, condoms because the last box was almost empty.
Adored and precious routine. almost.
You had to admit Monaco made you a little more nervous, not only because of the narrow streets, but a lot of important, well-known people were all over the place, and Max was the center of it all. Even after years of relationship, you still felt nervous when he looked at your with glowing eyes.
This is my girlfriend, (y/n). She has this great internship because she's the best of her class. I'm sure you've met before.
When all that was over, you chatted a bit with known photographers from the paddock, and right when you were speaking to one of them, you noticed the special white and red look of Charles Leclerc, walking hand in hand with a girl.
It didn't catch your attention immediately, but when you were back home, comfortably sitting on your bed reading an article for work while Max viewed the photographs of the day, the image sneaked in your thoughts.
"You didn't tell me about Charles and Charlotte!" you released the statement a bit harsher than expected, Max's eyebrows furrowing.
"Tell you what?" Max was confused and his face showed it, it was funny.
"Charles Leclerc? Charlotte Siné? Sounds familiar?" you said playfully rolling your eyes.
"I know who they are, schat, but I don't know the thing I was supposed to tell you about? They broke up months ago, they even announced it on instagram, although it was completely unnecessary if you ask me," The last sentence painted a smile on your face, recognizing the change of the tone of his voice, posture and facial expressions, he was ready to gossip.
"But I saw them walking together today! They were walking towards the Ferrari garage, they were holding hands and everything!"
Right in that moment, you observed how his expression changed before realizing a chuckle, his loud and gorgeous laugh that instantly made your insides flutter because it came from his stomach, his lungs; the purest laugh, your favorite.
"She is his new girlfriend, babe," Max told you and your jaw dropped. "Checo said the same thing to me and Daniel when they walked in together for the first time, Checo was sure it was Charlotte until Charles introduced us before the press conference," Now he was in full gossip mode: sitting straighter, phone left behind, blue eyes open wide.
"I'm speechless," you told him, repeating what you saw in the morning over and over again, but your feelings suddenly deviated from surprise to betrayal, playfully hitting Max's thigh. "Honey, why didn't you tell me that sooner?!"
Barcelona GP, 2023
Today you entered the paddock alone, coming straight from the hotel room after landing just an hour ago. You were sad to miss Friday, but your boss said it was vital for you to be in the office on Friday, insisting the meetings couldn't be held on Zoom.
You knew it was because he's a Mercedes fan and hoped Max would be distracted without having you there.
As if. your presence wasn't very vital during the weekend and you were well aware of it.
Admiring the amount of fans cheering for their favorite drivers, a sea of red Ferrari merchandising and flags, you walked by the Ferrari garage to greet Carlos, letting him know you (and Max) were cheering for him to get P2.
P1 belonged to your boyfriend, always.
Quickly scanning the drivers lounge you noticed the Sainz family, very close to each other, Carlos Sainz Sr. listening to everything the engineers were saying about his son's strategy and car.
But something was missing, and it was easy to notice because every friend and family of Carlos was there.
With that idea roaming, you reached your destination, grabbing a sugar free Red Bull before finding your boyfriend with his suit hanging from his hips, tightly hugging him from his waist while carefully extending your neck to meet his lips.
Max was required to stay longer on the track, Christian letting him know they added a meeting to discuss strategy because of the changing wether.
This left you with almost an hour to kill; your head resting on his thighs as he carefully juggling.
"Max, have you heard anything from the party last week? after the gp?" this got Max's attention, already knowing you had a piece of information.
"I know Lando almost hooked up with a girl from Latin America, from Chile I think? but nothing happened because his brother was staying on his flat. Charles and... ex girlfriend 2.0? made it official. Checo didn't go anywhere because last year still haunts him..." Max was mentally remembering every piece of information he'd heard during the week. "Oh, and I think Carlos was with a girl that wasn't his girlfriend? Christian said they didn't do anything, but Max Fewtrell said they left together,"
"Interesting because you know who's not in the Ferrari garage? at his home race? Isa," You told Max, which caused him to drop the colorful balls he was juggling.
"No! So it's true? he cheated?" He whisper shouted.
"Maybe they've been broken up for some time, now that I think about it I haven't seen her since testing?"
Neither Max nor you heard when someone walked in, calling for Max. Because now Max's head was resting on your legs as your fingers caressed his hair, his hands moving around as he came up with a possible theory, tying loose ends and trying to remember anything he'd heard.
The subject was forgotten once you arrived to the hotel room; lights off, eyes almost closing, but Max gasped when he remembered something Alonso mentioned during a press conference, apparently after hearing Lance talking with Esteban.
"Lance said Esteban and his girlfriend are over, do you think it's true?" Max asked you, and this brought up another thing.
"Did you hear anything about Lance cheating or whatever at his sister's wedding?" now you asked him, bodies coming closer to each other.
Now sleep was long forgotten and the only important thing was the gossipy whispers, the loud giggle leaving Max's lips when something sounded too ridiculous, and the security of knowing you'd never be the subject of those rumors.
#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen au#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen blurb#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x you#f1 x you#f1 fic#f1 x reader#max verstappen fic#max the wag
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Some People Can Change
Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Drugs and Angst
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 1.3K
Summary: Rafe really does want to change, but what happens if nobody else believes he can?
A/N: Rafe isn't a murderer and doesn't hide dead bodies in this one-shot, but everything else he does in Canon happens.
Masterlist
Y/N Y/L/N was only supposed to be a one-night stand. Rafe wasn’t planning on interacting with her after she left his bedroom. He was a Kook and she was a Pogue, who worked as a bartender at the club. However, when he woke up the next morning to the smell of frying bacon and the sound of “Dance The Night” accompanied by her dance moves, he knew she wasn’t really going to be leaving his life after today. Plus, her advice was life-saving. “I think I’m going to do something really bad,” he confessed to her, sitting at the kitchen island with coffee in hand. She looked at him in understanding, “Well, you said going to, which implies it has happened yet. And if it hasn’t happened, then you always have a chance to fix it. It’s up to you to own the fact that you recognize it isn’t good and to stop it.” This led to Rafe stopping the murder of his father that he put into action.
———
Ever since that day, Rafe is not often seen without his arm around Y/N, looking at her like she is his world. Because she is. He knows she wouldn’t put up with the shit that he pulls on a normal basis, so he made an effort to stop his vices. He is just grateful she is relatively new to town and hasn’t had the chance yet to hear the gossip about him. This means he has a chance to turn his life around before she finds out. But no one in his life actually believes he can change.
“I told you, Barry. I’m not dealing or using anymore. Not cocaine, not weed. I gotta go cold turkey,” Rafe reiterates, sliding the drugs and gun towards the pogue. “And I certainly don’t need this gun anymore.” Barry shakes his head and pushes the item back toward Rafe, “You really think you are going to last man? You aren’t going to be able to stay away from these just because of her. You can’t change man.” “You’re wrong. Every time I do drugs, I’m making the conscious decision to turn towards them. Y/N is helping me realize that I have other ways of coping with my issues,” he gestures his hand toward his chest to prove himself. “Come on, Country Club. Just take them back.” Rafe grows frustrated with this conversation. Instead of fighting back and yelling at the dealer, he tries to take deep breaths to calm himself. It sort of works, but nobody is perfect. So he storms out of the trailer with the loud clang of the front door closing behind him.
He gets home from Barry’s storming into the living room with his anger clear on his face. “Love, what’s wrong?” Y/N poses, lowering the volume of the TV. Rafe gives her a harsh look, “WHAT THE F-!” He can’t finish his yelling because Y/N is already gently placing her hand on his sternum to guide his breathing. “I know you are angry about something, right now, but that gives you no right to displace that anger towards me. So if you feel the need to release this negative energy, then I would like for you to channel this feeling through working out, please. I’ll come to see you to talk after half an hour.” Rafe knows that she is correct and she probably got these ideas from a psychology book she bought. God, she’s so smart.
Rafe heads up to the punching bag in his room and starts throwing punches at it. As promised, she comes to check on him after some time. “Now that we’ve calmed down, do you want to talk about it?” Y/N inquires, bringing his hands into her smaller ones and giving his bruised knuckles a kiss. He nods at her, “Yeah, I just went to give something back to a… uh… a friend and he insisted that I still needed it. It was frustrating.” His subconscious knew the problem was deeper than that and this caused tears to threaten to spill. Rafe is quick to hide his face behind his palms.
“Somehow I don’t believe that this is the true root of your crying. Do you think you can talk about it?”
“Uhh, no. I don’t think I truly know what I’m feeling. Can we just cuddle and think instead?”
Y/N is happy to oblige, lying down on the bed and opening her arms so he can rest his head on her chest.
———
“No, Rafe. I have to tell Y/N. She deserves to know,” Sarah argues, making her way back into the house from the back patio. Rafe is quick to follow her. At the same time, Y/N is heading towards the same door from the bathroom. “Tell me what?” Sarah turns towards the girl, ready to tell her about Rafe’s faults.
“Rafe is a liar and thief and violent and a drug addict. He isn’t a good person, sweetie!”
“I may not have been a good person and I admit to being everything you’ve said but I’m trying to change. Y/N helped me realize that I need to change.”
“Ooh, like you can change. Honestly, no offense Y/N, but we both know this road to redemption act is all going to go away once you get bored of her.”
Rafe wants to yell that it isn’t true what Sarah is saying, but he remembers the breathing exercises Y/N taught to help calm down and puts those into practice. He knows adding more anger to this argument is just going to lead toward a slippery slope of words he will regret.
“You may believe that, but I don’t. So I’m sorry I stole the cross and melted it down. I know that it can’t bring back the artifact for Pope. But I’ve already given the money I got from it to Pope and made a donation with my own money to the church.”
“Well good for you, doing one good thing to not feel guilty and to tell Y/N you are a good person.”
“I know about all of this already. Thank you for wanting to tell me, Sarah, but I already know everything and I would like to get the rest of the information straight from Rafe, now,” Y/N interrupts the argument before it becomes never-ending. Rafe’s palms are pressed into his eyes and she knows he is trying to hide his tears. She does not allow the conversation to continue; instead, brings him upstairs and moves his hands from his face. She wipes the tears away and presses a kiss to his forehead, “You don’t have to hide your tears away from me.”
“Why can’t anyone believe I can change? What if everyone is right?”
“Don’t say that. I believe that maybe not everyone can change, but some people can change. And you are definitely a part of some people.”
“How can you say that about me with everything you’ve known about all this time?”
“Because the Rafe that I was told about would’ve ended that argument with violence. He was violent, rude, a liar, stole and relied on drugs like it was water. The one before me approached that argument with recognition of his wrongdoing. He is working on his anger, is polite, tells me the truth, always pays for me and attends NA. He is one month sober. That is how I know you have changed.”
“Nobody else believes I can.”
“I know, love. I know it hurts. But right now let’s just focus on who does believe. You and Me. Then we can use this belief to prove everyone else wrong.”
“Okay, I can do that. I love you, Y/N/N.”
“ I love you too, love.”
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#outer banks#outer banks rafe#rafe x reader#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron x you#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#outer banks x reader#outer banks x you#outerbanks
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It’s time to talk about the Laudanum Lesbians, Elspeth and Wee Morag. Right away, it’s pretty obvious that you’re supposed to draw parallels between them and Aziraphale and Crowley. When the viewer first meets Elspeth, we get this gruff girl who threatens the two of them and is established to be doing something “morally wrong”. Life hasn’t been kind to her, and she clearly doesn’t trust people. To really drive it home, she and Crowley are on the exact same page while they’re talking to Aziraphale and wheeling the body to the alley.
Then we meet Wee Morag, and it becomes apparent that every decision that Elspeth makes is to better their life together. She offers Wee Morag food (which is something our favorite demon is wont to do for his partner) and specifically oversells it as something fancier than it actually is. Wee Morag calls her an angel. It’s meant to be a little tongue and cheek since it’s in the presence of a literal angel, but it also serves as a way to show that while Elspeth may not be a Good person, that she at least cares about the person close to her.
Now for Wee Morag at this moment, we don’t get much from her aside from her obviously being the moral compass out of the two of them. She tells Elspeth that she's going to Hell literally two seconds after referring to her as an angel. The more important part of this interaction I would argue is Aziraphale’s response to Wee Morag. Some part of him recognizes a kindred spirit in her. He takes off his hat in a show of sincerity and says that it was lovely to meet her. This is important for later in the episode.
After they fail to sell the body, all three of them end up back in the alley with Wee Morag. Elspeth is again choosing to not trust Aziraphale despite his change of heart to do what he now knows is actually a good thing. Wee Morag starts off on the fence, worried about those souls that won’t get into Heaven. Elspeth tells her that she promised to help, and through everyone’s various methods of convincing (tempting may even be the better word as there is a demon sitting next to her when she agrees), Wee Morag says that she’ll do it because that’s what friends do. Regardless, she’s now had her change of heart. Although I would say hers is more driven by the same thing that drives Aziraphale to help with the Antichrist. It is fundamentally for her and Elspeth’s benefit, not the Greater Good per say, but she needs that reframing of doing the moral thing of upholding her promises and potentially helping people.
In the graveyard, Elspeth does all of the hardwork and Wee Morag holds the light both to assist how Elspeth sees, but also likely to help her keep watch. She’s filling a guardian role for Elspeth. Later when Elspeth sells her body, she even says “She only wanted to look after me.” Upon seeing the actual body (a priest’s body no less), Wee Morag realizes with horror what they’re doing - the potential moral ramifications stare her in the face. She ends up caught in the crossfire of a gun, and she dies for it.
Originally, I thought that Wee Morag’s death sets Crowley up to worry about what might potentially happen to Aziraphale in the future. In a way, I still think it does. She was the Good character helping the Bad character, and she pays dearly for it. His line “It’s a bit different when it’s someone you know, isn’t it?” while pointed at Aziraphale can be felt by everyone in the room. Elspeth has been dealing with death this whole episode, but her whole life is turned on its head when her ‘pal’ dies. Crowley recognizes that it’s the knowing part that actually causes something to hurt. (It’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t have many human friends. He does have a friend though, and it would absolutely gut him to lose him.)
The episode isn’t over though. We still have to watch someone else pay for stepping over the imaginary boundary of Good and Evil, except rather than it being Aziraphale, it’s Crowley. Like Wee Morag, he steps out of his usual role and helps Elspeth, and for that, he pays dearly. He gets dragged off to Hell to have whatever Demons do instead of a rude note done to him. After everything that’s happened, it’s no wonder why you get that panicked shout of “Crowley” from Aziraphale. They just watched the worst case scenario happen for people like them.
Also as another quick fun aside, both sets of characters are bound by something that allows them to not be able to carry out their actual dreams and goals. Elspeth and Wee Morag were bound by poverty while Aziraphale and Crowley are bound by their respective Head Offices.
#The 1941 minisode is probably my favorite#And I love the Job minisode#But I feel like we're sleeping on this one when it's just as good#good omens meta#good omens#meta#good omens season 2#Aziraphale#Crowley
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I feel so bad for Steve. Because everyone he surrounds himself with are so highly intelligent. Like not even just smart, they’re off the charts gifted type kids.
And they all think Steve is so dumb. Like, yes he couldn’t get into Tech, but that doesn’t mean he’s the dumbest person to exist. And I especially hate how much they lean into that in season four.
But then Eddie comes along, Eddie who is redoing his senior year for the third time, and he sees Steve.
He recognizes how much the kids and his friends berate him for his ideas and thoughts. And he can’t help but feel the need to reach out and acknowledge how great he really is. That he has qualities other than the great intelligence his friends possess.
And he tries to make sure that Steve knows that it’s alright that he doesn’t know stuff. Like he doesn’t know Ozzy, and that’s okay. He just explains it and moves on to his main point.
He doesn’t get upset when Steve doesn’t understand something. He just slowly explains it to him in multiple ways until he understands - he loves the look Steve gets when he has a lightbulb moment. (Eddie later gives Dustin a speech on patience)
Later on, when Eddie is explaining something to Steve, he doesn’t nod back or ask questions like he usually does. He just stares at Eddie’s lips.
“Steve…?”
Steve hums and quickly looks away from his lips, a blush spreading over his cheeks.
“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Eddie asks slightly amused. Steve doesn’t respond. His mouth opens and closes a few times.
“You can ask me anything, Steve.”
Steve looks at him and swallows loudly. He runs a hand through his hair and asks, “Have you… have you every had feelings…” Steve trails off and heavily sighs. He starts again, “Can… can people… like… girls and… boys?”
Eddie stares at Steve incredulously and explains, “Yes. They can. It’s called bisexuality.”
“Bisexuality,” Steve parrots.
Eddie nods. Steve seems to grasp the concept quickly, but Eddie can feel that he has more to say. He remains silent.
Eddie doesn’t push it, so he goes back to explaining what he was before.
A few weeks later, Eddie makes his usual Friday night stop at Family Video right before closing. He notices almost all the lights are already off inside, but the door is unlocked. He makes his way inside and winces as he hears Steve’s voice carry from the back room.
“I can’t tell him!”
“Steve, you’re an idiot if you don’t,” Robin says. Eddie winces.
“That’s exactly it! I’m a fucking idiot. I’m an idiot who goes to see him weekly so he can explain the dumbest things to me! And you want me to tell him what? That I have feelings for him?! Me, Steve ‘the dingus’ Harrington loves Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?!”
His voice gets louder by the end as the door to the back room opens up.
Eddie makes eye contact with Steve. He freezes.
“Why’d you stop, Dingus?” Robin asks pushing past him. She looks at Eddie. “Shit.”
Eddie and Steve continue staring at each other.
“Well,” Robin says awkwardly, “I’m just gonna…” she gathers her stuff up from the counter and walks towards the front door, “Hey, look. Nancy’s here to pick me up. So that’s great. You two uhh… have a good time. Later…” she salutes the two of them and exits.
Eddie continues staring at Steve who hasn’t broken eye contact with him since he’s seen him.
“Steve…” Eddie breaks the silence.
“Don’t do that,” Steve begs.
“Do what?”
Steve breaks, “Talk to me like that! You’re not supposed to use that tone. You’re not supposed to treat me like I’m stupid. And I know I am. But you weren’t supposed to find out about my… my feelings. Because I’m an idiot. And you would never date an idiot. No one loves a fucking idiot.”
Eddie jumps over the counter and rushes into Steve’s personal space, grabbing his hands. “Steve, I have never thought you were dumb. You’re not. You never have been. But right now, for once, you’re being an idiot.”
Steve’s hands snap away from Eddie’s. “What?”
“You, Steve Harrington, are an idiot for thinking that I wouldn’t fall for you. That I haven’t already.”
Steve stares at Eddie and shakes his head.
“I like you,” Eddie explains. It clicks in his head that sometimes Steve is a visual and kinesthetic learner. So he does the one thing he can think of and cups Steve jaw and brings him slowly in.
Steve’s hands make their way into his hair and pull him the rest of the distance. The kiss is sweet and gentle and full of promise.
Steve breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Eddie’s. He huffs out a laugh, “Was that your way of explaining to me that you like me?”
“Did it work?” Eddie asks.
“Yes.”
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