#if you've ever sent me a prompt and thought well fuck she's taking so long with this she's clearly forgotten about it i'm just here to say:

[thepaperpanda]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 22 - Hide Your Phone When You’re Drunk || Layla El-Faouly x m!reader

Masterlist

Summary: You are Layla's ex-boyfriend. After a night of binge drinking, you feel the urge to text your ex-girlfriend.

Warnings: descriptions of smutty behaviours

Word count: ~ 840

Author: Fenrir

A/N: The prompt for today is: Sexting Here's a non-linear story where Layla had a relationship with a male reader before she met Marc, and she is not truly happy with him and misses her ex. The warning has been given

You returned home completely wasted. While playing with a screen under the influence of alcohol, you got a stupid idea and wrote to your ex, Layla, asking whether she liked a picture of a sticking cock you've sent her.

She replied after a minute with a picture of her tits and a note "jerk yourself at it"

You: I didn't mean that, but thanks, I haven't seen you for a long time, honey

Layla: Now you have to show yourself as well

You sent her a picture of your dick, or rather boxers, with equipment clearly defined underneath.

Layla: What is this? Y/N, I wanted a cock! 🍆

You: And I'd like a pussy! 🥵👅

"Now show me your cock!" Layla texted, along with a picture of her spread legs and her open pussy.

Perhaps she's drunk as well, you thought as she started being vulgar. She received a photo of a cock without boxers, standing slightly.

Layla: I want it how I like it! Put it up, it must be stiff and shiny! Play it like you mean it

You: 😏It would have to be slimed by you and hung over your head 😏😏

Layla: You'd have to be in a position hahaha, what a silly idea, Y/N

Layla received a short clip after you lowered the phone and took a nice angle, turned on the recording, and started jerking off, thinking about her.

Layla: Thanks, it's been a long time since I've seen one up close

You: But you have a man, what's his fucking name? Marc?

Layla: Yeah... fucking like it's a formality in the bank

You: What do you mean?

Layla: Spreading my legs, turning around, showing my ass, stretching my ass with my hands, grinding my holes with his cock until he cums, pushing the cum out, wiping myself, washing up and going to sleep, that's my reality. Have you already cum, luv?

The thought of her being so sexually uncomfortable made you frown slightly. She sent another text after a longer period of time, asking again: Layla: Have you cum?

You: Nah, didn't write to have cyber fun lol 😂 I didn't think you were just fucking around, no fun, but rather you always liked a bit of fun before and after 😏

Layla: My preference would be to watch a cock straddle me in my every hole rather than simply feeling the lubricating gel, followed by a hard cock in my unstretched ass

You: From your perspective, how did it work out?

She must have been offended, you thought after waiting about 15 minutes after your last text was left without a response from Layla. Due to the late hour, you decided to take a shower. When you set your alarm clock after the shower, you noticed a message notification. You checked it reluctantly, convinced that you had just received another ranting message. Instead, this was the biggest message you've ever seen someone send. It resembled a fucking essay.

Layla: When I knelt in front of your erect cock, just looking at it, taking it in my mouth, licking it, and sucking it made me turn on 😍 Additionally, grabbing your slightly dangling balls was always a good way to keep you from shoving your cock down my throat, since you often fucked me in my throat like you were driving into my ass without resistance haha 🥵 When I held your cock in my mouth, I often had to suck to keep my neck from getting too tired. My neck hurt anyway after a while, so I put my hands on your ass and pushed you down. Your cock would then push into my mouth as you dropped yourself down, and I could see the ball sack coming toward my face. I felt the hard cock kneading my tongue and going almost down my throat, which I didn't like because I can't deep throat. Your half-hard cock with cum hanging over my face always got my attention, as did your cum running down your cock on the video when you jacked off, or when I finished you off with my hand while lying on your back for a hand job with my fingers drilling into your ass and me sucking on your balls. Watching you cum for me again or feeling your sperm on my face would be wonderful. Please don't take me for a pervert, but fuck, I miss you, Y/N 🥺

It was a severe shock, and your dick was standing all over the place; your response was to push your sweatpants down to record yourself jerking to the camera again until you spurted your cum on your lower, well-built abdomen, with a grunt.

Layla: That's what I needed, handsome. Now wash your dick and go to bed, because we have a long day tomorrow, don't we? Would you like to hang out, then?

You: Sure. If you message me when you're in our pub, I'll meet you there, ok?

Layla: Yes. If I said I didn't miss you, I'd lie... See you then, babe ❤️

#layla moon knight #moon knight smut #layla el faouly x reader #layla el faouly smut #layla el-faouly x reader #layla el faouly imagine #layla el-faouly fic #scarlet scarab #layla el faouly x m!reader #moon knight fic #moon knight x male reader #layla x male reader #moon knight drabble #writers on tumblr #paperpanda kinktober #kinktober 2022

[searidings]

hi, i just love you and your writing

can i suggest something - you are in love (taylor swift) and supercorp

i cannot listen to that song without going yeah, that's them

(also on ao3 if you prefer)

Five years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, five years from now, Lena will think back to this moment.

This moment, which is as close as Lena's come to happiness since she'd woken up ziptied to a chair in her brother's office. This moment which, despite the fuzzy feeling of her unbrushed teeth and the pungent aroma of burnt toast filling the air, is perfect.

Kara, bed-warm and sleep-heavy, is gazing beseechingly down at the charred remains of a slice of a bread as though if she only pouts hard enough, its edges will un-blacken and its corners will stop smoking.

“I'm so sorry,” she says as Lena rounds the screen separating Kara's bedroom from the rest of the apartment and perches herself on a barstool, tugging her borrowed sleep shorts a little lower down her thighs.

Kara's tone is mournful, her face so forlorn she looks to be one deep breath away from tears. “I wanted breakfast to be perfect, since it's your first time staying over and if it's terrible you might not want to stay again and I, I really want you to stay again, but I don't know why you would since you probably have a private chef waiting for you at home and I can’t even manage toast—”

“Kara,” Lena interrupts, biting at the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing as Kara's bottom lip trembles. “It's fine, really. I once set fire to my dorm kitchen trying to boil an egg. And besides,” she winks as blue eyes meet hers. “I like to give my personal chef the weekends off.”

Kara huffs out a relieved chuckle, her face brightening. “Oh, well, in that case,” she grins, a sparkle returning to her eyes. “I'd better feed you up before you go home. Never let it be said that I don't look after you.”

Lena can't help the smile that pulls at her as the warm bright feeling in her chest grows and grows. She tugs the sleeves of Kara's sweatshirt over her hands, fighting the urge to fidget as the blonde orders a frankly obscene amount of food from the brunch place on the corner.

She feels exposed like this, face bare and hair sleep-mussed, unshowered with unbrushed teeth, huddled inside borrowed clothes after the impromptu invitation to stay over when last night's movie marathon ran late. It's a far cry from the regimented composure she fights so hard every day to project, and something in her chest twists anxiously.

Kara is a reporter, after all, and National City really doesn't need any more reasons to hate Lena right now. The darkest corner of her mind – the one which has been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for everything to come crashing down ever since the whirlwind of Kara's too-good-to-be-true friendship had come blazing into her life – still worries that this may all be an elaborate ruse. A trap, a way to get close to her in order to assess her weaknesses, to bring her down with an inside scoop.

But in their six months of friendship, Kara's never given her any reason to believe she has any kind of ulterior motive. And despite the suspicions and anxieties hammered into her by a lifetime of hurt, Lena knows now that even if this is a trap, she'll take the bait willingly. Especially if it means Kara will keep looking at her like there might just be something in Lena that's worth her time.

"Hey,” the blonde says gently, leaning back against the counter opposite and pinning Lena with a searching look. “You okay? You kind of zoned out on me there.”

Lena jumps, blinking back into herself with a start. “Yes, sorry. I was miles away.”

The blonde only smiles, flicking on the coffee machine at her elbow. “You sleep okay?”

“Very well, thank you,” Lena answers, fighting to lessen the formality of her tone, to soften the edges her harsh childhood had sharpened into a fortress to keep the world at bay. “Your bed is surprisingly comfortable. I had a great night's sleep.”

"Perhaps the company had something to do with it,” Kara winks as she turns to pull two mugs down from the hooks at her shoulder. Lena thinks back to the smell of Kara's sheets and the soft pulls of her breathing, to the warmth of Kara's ankle against her calf and the strong fingers that had wrapped themselves in the sleeve of Lena's sweatshirt in sleep, anchoring them together. She blushes.

Kara only smirks, pouring their drinks and grabbing the milk from the fridge. “Well, the food's all ordered, it should be here soon,” she says over her shoulder, the waterfall of her golden ponytail mesmerising in the bright rays of morning light filtering in through the vaulted windows. “And you don't need to head off in a hurry, unless you have plans—?”

She glances back at Lena, who shakes her head. “Great!” she grins. “’Cause I was thinking, maybe we could check out the botanical gardens, since it's such a nice day? Oh, and there's a new bakery right across the street that I've been dying to try—”

Lena listens to the blonde's excited rambling with an endeared smile plastered to her face, feeling happy and warm and wanted with every fibre of her being. The feeling is new but so welcome she could cry, and Lena wonders – not for the first time – how she ever got so lucky.

Kara's presence in her life is like sugar in her coffee; meant only to sweeten that which has always been bitter.

Lena's always taken her coffee black. Softening the blow was never much her style.

But here, now, perched at Kara's breakfast bar with her hands wrapped around a steaming mug the blonde has brewed to perfection, sunlight streaming in and highlighting the angles and planes of Kara's face, the way she’s smiling at Lena like there's nowhere else in the world she'd rather be, she realises her reasoning is twofold.

Sugar isn't just appetising. It's addictive. And now that Lena's had a taste of sweetness, she's hooked.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

-

Four years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, four years from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which may well be one of the lowest of Lena's life. And she's had some doozies.

The two bottles of wine she'd managed to mainline between Sam leaving to orchestrate damage control at L-Corp and Kara arriving and attempting to confiscate her glass have well and truly caught up to her now. She sways heavily on her stool, the room spinning. Tears sting her vision and guilt scorches her throat as she presses a hand over her eyes so she won't have to look at Kara's face anymore.

“Please, just— just, stop believing in me, okay?” she slurs, heart full to shattering with the faces of lead-poisoned children. “I am not worth it.”

She hears Kara sigh, and the room falls silent for a long long time. Lena drops her head fully into her hands, fighting the nausea that's taken root in the pit of her stomach. It could be the booze that's causing it, of course, but it could also be the incessant headlines baying for her blood, the bullet James had taken for her that she'd fully deserved, the curse of her family finally fulfilling itself.

The guilt, the worry, the crushing disappointment of the knowledge that despite her very best efforts, she'll never be anything but a monster— it's too much to feel. It's too much to bear.

So, Lena drinks.

She drains her glass. She pours another. Kara watches, silent and disapproving, fingers twitching against the granite countertop between them.

Lena finishes her glass. Splashes the last dregs of the bottle into it, blood on ice. Still Kara watches, motionless and mute. It's only when Lena's swallowed the last of the red and is lurching unsteadily to her feet to source another that she moves, a hand reaching out to encircle her wrist.

Shame ignites beneath her skin and she pushes Kara away. Snaps at her to go home, to learn to recognise a lost cause when she sees one and just give up already. Kara refuses with a stoic shake of her head, and Lena sighs.

They repeat the same routine three times en route to Sam's wine rack, the blonde shadowing her every step. Each time, Lena wobbles, head fuzzy and room spinning. Each time, Kara steadies her, and Lena flinches from her touch like her palm is a brand, snarls at her to leave, to cut her losses, to just fuck off. Each time, Kara refuses.

She eventually retrieves the wine after a number of unsuccessful attempts but overbalances on her toes, bottle slipping from her grip as she sways dangerously. And then Kara is there, glass bottle caught a split second before it can shatter, a firm arm at her waist that will not be rebuffed.

Lena struggles, shoving and protesting, but this time Kara does not give in. “Enough,” she says quietly, firmly, blue eyes burning a mere inch from Lena's own. “Lena, enough.”

Lena's unsteady legs buckle further and Kara’s basically holding her up now, walking her slowly over to the couch and she shouldn't be this strong, surely, shouldn't be lifting Lena onto the cushions quite this easily. But it's such a minor concern when weighted against the fact that Lena is personally responsible for the hospitalisation of children that her mind brushes over it, forgets it immediately.

"Please go home,” she slurs as the blonde arranges her on the couch, as she stashes the unopened wine far out of reach and sets about finding blankets and pillows in various cupboards. “Please, just— leave me alone.”

“No,” Kara says, almost snaps, glancing back over her shoulder. Partially hidden in the linen cupboard, her face is cast deep in shadow, a splinter of half-concealed truth. “I made you a promise, I gave you my word. I'm your friend, and I will protect you. Always.”

She crosses back to the couch, soft blankets and pillows held out in invitation. When Lena refuses the offering Kara sighs, draping a knitted throw over her anyway and perching on the cushions beside Lena's hip. “I'm not going to leave you, so you might as well stop asking,” she hums, softer now, a hand reaching toward her that Lena no longer possesses the strength or coordination to bat away.

Long fingers make contact with her cheek, with the mussed curls tangling in her eyelashes, and Kara sighs. “You are not your brother,” she murmurs, fingertips grazing Lena's cheekbone, sliding back to thread into the fine hair at her temple. “And you never will be. There's too much light in you to allow for that kind of darkness, so put that fear down, Lena. Let it go. Be free of it.”

Tears spring unbidden to her eyes. “I poisoned children.”

Kara tilts forward and Lena wonders if it's just that her vision has upped its spinning, but then warm lips are pressing against her forehead, soft and delicate as gossamer wings. Kara's mouth moves against her skin, breath damp and sweet and unmistakeably her. “You saved the world.”

Neither one of them moves. When Lena speaks again, the words hit the elegant hollow of Kara's throat. “I don't deserve your kindness. I don't deserve you.”

Kara's lips are still on her forehead. “I don't care.”

Lena feels as if her throat is splitting open, every last fear and hatred and worry and insecurity gushing out of her in an unstoppable stream. “I'm scared.”

“I know.” Kara's lips press once more, and then withdraw. They watch each other in the dim light from the kitchen. Lena's vision is beginning to blur at the edges. Kara's hand is still in her hair.

“You will get through this,” the blonde whispers, so earnest Lena almost manages to believe her. “We'll figure it out. Together.”

Heart in her mouth, tongue sticking behind her teeth, Lena's eyes slide closed.

The sweetness of Kara's words, her gentle touches, seep inside her like honey. She doesn't deserve it but God, she wants it. She wants to be worthy of Kara's faith in her more than she's ever wanted anything in her life. She wants Kara more than she's ever wanted anything in her life.

And it's telling, she knows, that she's just lost the trust of all of National City, that she has no way of easing those children's suffering and no way to prove that she isn't the cause of it, that she's finally living up to the Luthor name she's been running from ever since she'd learned what it truly meant and yet in this moment, with Kara's hand in her hair and the ghostly imprint of her lips on Lena's skin, none of it seems to matter.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

-

Three years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, three years from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which stands alone as an oasis of calm in the turbulent tumult of the past days, weeks, months of chaos. Lex's escape from custody, Eve Teschmacher's betrayal, James’ shooting, the Harun-El serum, the whole shitty totality of it all has been weighing Lena down like an nth metal chain around her neck.

And Kara, Kara hasn't been around. The one person who has always managed to ease Lena's suffering has deserted her when she needs her the most and it feels like she's been sliced open, cracked in two.

She tells her as much, when Kara at last comes to see her. Tells her she's missed her, tells her she needs her, all but begs her to stay. And what does Kara do? She leaves.

And when she leaves, Lena is gripped by a panic so intense she fears she may never breathe freely again. So terrified is she that Kara is gone for good, that she's forced away the best thing that's ever happened to her, that almost before she knows what's happening she finds herself at Catco with apologies dripping from her own tongue.

Anything to get Kara back. Anything to keep her.

Lena apologises. Kara apologises. Lena cries, and Kara holds her, and tells her that the decision to help her brother when he was dying of cancer doesn't make her the monster she now believes herself to be. And standing on her office balcony with Kara's fingers wrapped around her biceps, with her own tears spotting dark on Kara's blazer, Lena manages to believe her.

When she's collected herself, smoothed away the wetness coursing down her cheeks, she speaks. “I really want to help you with your investigation on Lex.”

Kara's face lights up; Lena's whole world along with it.

“I'd love that,” Kara says, voice quiet and still a little tentative in the wake of their new truce. “But first— would you, um. Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Lena blinks. “Don't you want to get started on the exposé?”

“I do. But—” Kara's face is still painted that earnest shade from earlier, when she'd smoothed her hands over Lena's shoulders and whispered you are a brilliant, kind-hearted, beautiful soul against the sensitive skin of her neck. Lena feels her cheeks heat up at the memory, at the intensity in the blue eyes still roving her face.

Kara shuffles her feet but her gaze is clear, unwavering. “But you were right. I've spent too much time recently prioritising the wrong things. So, I want to work on this exposé with you, and I want to bring your brother down. But first, I'd really just like to have lunch with my best friend.”

Lena's heart trips in her chest. “I'd like that too.”

So, that's what they do. Kara asks her to wait, which she does, idly tapping out a few emails on her phone. And then the blonde is back, far quicker than should have been possible, with her arms full of takeout bags from the café on the third floor and she's taking Lena by the hand and leading her to Cat Grant's private elevator. She presses the button for the roof and Lena's gaze jumps to her face but Kara only smiles, and squeezes her fingers. “Trust me, it'll be worth it,” she hums, her excitement infectious. “You'll be safe with me.”

And Lena believes her.

That's how she ends up sitting at the edge of Catco's roof on a clean sheet Kara had borrowed from the builders on the second floor, heels kicked off, Kara's red blazer draped around her shoulders. It is worth it, she'll admit; the view from this high is phenomenal. The sun burns bright in a cloudless sky, glinting off the glass-sided skyscrapers of the business district, the glittering waters of the bay beyond.

Kara had picked up Lena's favourite salad, some flatbreads and dips, and they drink kombucha and eat strawberries in the sunshine. They talk and they laugh and they catch up and there's no more fighting, no animosity, no megalomaniac brothers or backstabbing secretaries or worlds needing to be saved. There's only them, she and Kara, and it feels like all she will ever need.

The blonde's hands are braced behind her on the rooftop and she looks happy and carefree as she regales Lena with stories of her upstairs neighbour's antics, and Lena feels the tight knot of tension that had taken up residence in her chest begin to unfurl.

"Hey,” Kara hums, pushing up straighter as Lena licks strawberry juice from her fingertips. The motion brings them closer, their shoulders brushing. “Look up.”

Lena does. High above them, a huge murmuration of starlings whirls and swoops through the air. Thousands of birds move together as one, a vast wave cresting but never breaking against the blue canvass of sky.

“Wow,” Lena gasps, awed.

Against her side, Kara hums. “Yeah.”

They watch the birds for a long moment, captivated by the ceaseless swirling and diving. When Lena at last tears her gaze away from the sky, Kara's eyes rest intently on her face. "Here,” the blonde murmurs, reaching out. The pad of one finger makes feather-light contact with her cheek. Lena's breath catches in her chest.

Kara holds out her finger, proffering the stray eyelash she'd captured with a smile. "Make a wish,” she whispers, her fingertip an inch from Lena's mouth. Her eyes never leave Lena’s.

Lena looks from Kara's face to the eyelash, and back again. From somewhere deep inside her heart, the truth bubbles its way to the surface. “I don't need to.”

Kara smiles, a brilliant, beautiful smile, and Lena knows. The stresses and anxieties of their current crisis feel far away here, harmless as birdsong. She's meted out forgiveness, received it in return. For the first time in her adult life Lena has communicated an issue with a loved one and been heard, understood. She has admitted her own mistake without having it spell out the end of her relationship.

Lena smiles back. The weight of the world sublimates into nothing beneath the bliss of a simple picnic in the sun.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

-

Two years from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, two years from now, Lena will think back to this moment.

This moment, which has sapped the both of them to the bone. Another fight, another screaming match, another quick-fire back and forth of accusations and recriminations. Another night of cursing and crying and choking on all the things they never said before this, on all the things they can't now that Kara's secret has detonated in the shrinking space between them like a nuclear bomb.

Another round of bloodshed, and for what?

Lena sags against the arm of the couch, exhausted. Her face is hot, scratchy with salt from the tears still drying on her skin. She's dehydrated, probably, and half hoarse from shouting, tongue blistered with the bitter sting of betrayal.

Across the no man's land of her living room, Kara slumps against the floor-length windows, drops her temple to the cool glass. She's breathing heavily, cheeks wet, posture battered and eyes dark-bruised beneath the force of Lena's wrath. As Lena watches, her eyes slide closed.

It's been three months since Lena found out. Three weeks since Kara found out that Lena had found out.

Every night since, they've done this. Every night, Kara has shown up on her balcony and begged, pleaded, apologised, cajoled, defended, rebuffed, and sobbed. Every night, Lena has unleashed the hollow agony of Kara's deception masquerading as anger in her chest, incinerating the both of them in the fires of her desolation.

She would have expected the wounds to have cauterised by now. To feel some kind of release, the relief of catharsis. Or at least, to have expended some of her fury after all this time.

She hasn't.

They've been at this for three hours already this evening, and gotten nowhere. Kara's skin is pale above that fucking supersuit, face drawn and complexion sallow.

Lena knows how she feels. The singular exhaustion that is her rift with Kara has sapped her in every way imaginable. She can't sleep. She barely eats. She's no longer interested in work, research, friends. There's nothing in her life that isn't tainted by the shadow of the lies her best friend told and kept telling, every day for four years. Lena doesn't know how any amount of screaming and crying is ever going to get them past that.

Across the room, Kara sighs. It might be the saddest sound Lena has ever heard.

“Should we keep doing this?” she asks after an interminable silence, voice rough with tears still building. Her eyes are still closed.

Lena manages, with exorbitant effort, to raise her drooping head. “What?”

“Is there a point to all this?” Kara asks quietly, hunched body sliding a little further down the glass. "The explanations, the fighting?”

Blue eyes blink open. The weight of the sadness in them is unbearable. Lena struggles to find it within herself to care.

“Lying to you about who I am is the single biggest mistake I have ever made, and if it will make even one single shred of difference I will apologise to you every day for as long as I live,” Kara says into the aching chasm between them. “But I can't keep doing this. Not if it won't change anything. I can't— I don't want to keep hurting you.”

An hour ago, Lena would have scoffed at a sentiment like that. Would have parried back with some piercingly dry comment about how the blonde should have thought about that before she decided to betray Lena's trust as soundly as she possibly could.

Now, though— now, she's just too tired.

“So, should we keep doing this?” Kara whispers, throat working. “Or— God, Lena. Should we just— should we give up?”

Green eyes meet blue, two shattered hearts haemorrhaging between them. “Is that what you want?”

“No.” Kara's voice is loud, fiercely determined in the face of Lena's hesitant whisper. “God, no. Never. I don't ever want to give up on you, Lena. I don't ever want to give you up.”

Kara straightens then, with a strength Lena cannot imagine mustering herself. Perks of being a superhero, she supposes. Perks of being Kryptonian. The thought stakes another shard of ice through her bleeding heart.

“But I know that I've spent four years calling the shots for both of us by keeping you in the dark,” Kara continues. “I've taken away your agency. I've taken away your choice. I won't do that again.”

She sucks in a deep breath, a little of Supergirl's regality seeping back into the defeated slump of her shoulders. “So, I'm doing what I should have done from the start. I'm being honest with you, and hoping that you'll be honest back. I'm asking what you want.”

Kara's fingers twist anxiously before her, bottom lip bleaching white beneath the nervous pressure of her teeth. “Do you think we should keep doing this? Or do you— fuck.” Her voice cracks, the tears brimming in her eyes once again breaking free. “Do you want to give up?”

Jesus Christ. Lena never knew that the prospect of doing the right thing could hurt so much.

“Fuck,” she mutters as she kneads her knuckles over her closed eyelids, digging in until white lights starburst across her vision. “Fuck, Kara.”

“I know,” the blonde whispers from across the room, brittle and broken. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Lena slows her assault on her own eyelids, pinching thumb and forefinger hard at the bridge of her nose instead. “I want to give up,” she mutters, and in the taut silence between them she hears the blonde gasp, watery and thick.

Lena blinks open her eyes to find Kara's face crumpling, every facet of her seeming to fold in on itself even as she visibly fights to keep herself upright.

Lena sighs, and hates Kara, and hates herself even more. “I want to, but— I can't.” She sucks in a ragged breath, hating the truth that's just fallen from her lips, hating the lies that had necessitated it. Hating everything and everyone and most of all, hating just how much she's hurting. “I can't give this up.”

The tiniest spark of hope flares to life in Kara's eyes. Lena hates that she notices, hates that she cares, hates that the sight eases the tight knot of devastation clawing at her ribcage just the tiniest bit.

She also knows that this was inevitable. She knows that, though she hates Kara, though she's nowhere close to forgiving her, though she has no idea how they can rebuild from here or even if she truly wants to try, a question like Kara's could only ever have one answer.

In this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

-

One year from now, Kara is going to reach across the table at Noonan's and take her hand. She's going to look deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice will barely rise above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And when she does, one year from now, Lena will also think back to this moment.

This moment, which is barely even a moment at all. It's more like a dream, warm and faded and fogged in darkness, seconds stolen when sleep should have long since claimed them.

Kara's nightmare had woken them both. In the month since they'd pulled her out of the Phantom Zone, she hadn't slept alone once. Often, she stays with Alex, curling into her sister's side the way she would when they were just kids after one too many late-night horror movies. Once, she stays with Nia, tucked up snug in a borrowed pair of puppy print pyjamas.

Mostly, she stays with Lena. It's natural and unspoken and easy as breathing, the way Kara will show up at her place after a Supergirl save or Lena will let herself into the blonde's apartment after a late night in the lab. They cook dinner and watch Celebrity Masterchef and brush their teeth elbow to elbow at the bathroom sink and when Kara is inevitably tugged screaming and sobbing from her night terrors, the way she presses her face to Lena's neck and her hand over Lena's heart is natural and unspoken and easy as breathing, too.

Kara's racing pulse has calmed a little, her grip on Lena's body beneath her losing some of its urgent desperation. After a long moment of Lena's hand stroking her hair, of gentle reassurances and lips pressed to her temple the blonde pulls back, just enough to rest her head on the pillow facing her.

In the dim light filtering in through the bedroom window Kara's pupils are blown, her face solemn. There's something in her heavy gaze that Lena can't identify; something weighted and potent that prickles goosebumps up the length of her spine.

"Feeling better?” she whispers into the inch of warm air between them, reaching out to tuck a sweat-matted curl reverently behind the blonde's ear.

Kara catches her retreating hand and holds tight, twining their fingers together on the narrow swathe of pillow between them. If either of them were to move so much as a millimetre, their clasped hands would press against their lips.

The blonde nods and sure enough, the soft heat of her mouth brushes the back of Lena's knuckles. She shivers.

Kara is still watching her, the intensity of her gaze causing Lena's heart to thud hard in her throat. She squeezes lightly at the fingers threaded through her own. “What?”

A pause, heavy and sweet as overripe fruit. Kara blinks once, slow. “You're my best friend.”

Lena swallows down a sudden swell of emotion. The blonde nudges closer and when she speaks, the wet seam of her lips catches on the angle of Lena's bent knuckles, painting her skin with the words.

“You're the most important person in the world to me,” Kara whispers, breaths skating fire-flashes across Lena's fingers, voice muffling out past the mouth pressed to her skin. “You know that, right?”

Lena's voice deserts her in the wake of the quiet words. She leans forward instead, presses her lips to Kara's fingertips where they rest against the back of her own hand. It's answer enough.

She hears Kara's breath catch, feels the disruption mirrored in her own chest. Both their mouths are pressed to the joined hands clasped between them. If they were to move their fingers down even just a fraction, there would be nothing separating their lips but a promise, a prayer.

Kara's eyelashes flutter in the semi-darkness. The tip of her nose brushes Lena's own. Neither one of them moves their hands.

They only gaze at one another a long moment, and Lena wonders if the blonde is memorising the planes of her face the way she's memorising Kara's. She could look at her forever, be happy here with her forever, and in this moment, Lena knows. She's in love.

For the first time, she wonders if she might not be the only one.

-

Right now, Kara is reaching across the table at Noonan's and taking Lena's hand.

It's been three weeks since they'd taken down Lex for the last time. Three weeks since Kara had stormed into the Tower's med bay to cup Lena's bloody, bruised face in her hands; since she'd brushed her thumbs feather-light over Lena's split eyebrow and purpling jaw and growled don't you ever scare me like that again. Three weeks since she'd leaned in and pressed her lips to Lena's.

It's been two weeks and six days since Lena, confined to a gurney but utterly uncaring thanks to the warm Kryptonian curled against her side, had pressed her aching face to Kara's shoulder and first whispered that she loved her. Two weeks and six days since Kara had first said it back.

It's been two weeks and five and a half days since Nia had walked in on Lena in Kara's arms, lips pressed to her neck and hands wandering beneath her sweatshirt, and promptly shrieked the place down. Since their friends had exchanged pointed glances and relieved sighs and congratulated them on finally making it official, their expressions ranging from overjoyed to exasperated to plain exhausted.

It's been two weeks and four days of she and Kara dating; of morning kisses and shared showers and the perfect partner at game night and all of Lena's wildest dreams coming true.

It's been less than a minute since Kara had admitted, hushed and wondering, that she'd known she was in love with Lena ever since she'd found herself suddenly prepared to poison National City's entire water supply rather than let Lena fall. That she hadn't been able to fully it admit it to herself until she'd found herself suddenly prepared to alter the course of all of history in order to get Lena back.

And right now, Kara is reaching across the table at Noonan's and taking her hand. She's looking deep into Lena's eyes, biting her lip as her thumb rubs gentle circles into Lena's palm, and her voice barely rises above a whisper when she asks, “When did you know?”

And now that she has, Lena is sure of her answer.

The highlight reel of her relationship with Kara lays itself at Lena's feet, each precious memory between them stretching out like a roadmap of her growing affection, with every hard-won step leading her right to this moment.

And in this moment, Lena knows. She's in love with Kara. Really, she always has been.

#sorry this took approximately 8932018207402 thousand years to materialise #if you've ever sent me a prompt and thought well fuck she's taking so long with this she's clearly forgotten about it i'm just here to say: #nope! #still here #unsure how inspired by the song this actually was in the end #it's either way too close to the lyrics or not close enough #who can say #but anyway yeah. supercorp song #thank your for the prompt and the lovely message! hope you like it #asks #anonymous #ridings writes #supercorp #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers

[freindly-neighbourhood-anarchist]

When You Sleep Together

Dream SMP x Reader

I've got some wholesome moments for you guys because y'all deserve to be loved :) sorry if some of these are cheesy

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

💭💚Dream💚💭

Rubbing his eyes sleepily as he stared at the chat of his stream, Clay sighed quietly to himself. He was longing for the sweet embrace of his comfy bed-sheets. As much as he loved his chat, he loved you and his bed more.

Blinking away the sleep, he shook his head to wake himself up. When he stopped himself from falling into his sleep-zombie stupor, he began to speak energetically to the stream once again.

Just as he was about to say something, the sound of his door opening made him stop. When he saw you peeking your head into his room, he muted his mic." Everything okay?" He asked, concern swirling in his deep-green eyes.

Your eyes narrowed a little from the brightness of his monitor," You're... still streaming?" You muttered tiredly, running a hand through your messy hair," It's 4 am... You need to come to bed before you die." You stated bluntly.

Chuckling lightly, Clay smiled at you," That's a bit of an exaggeration, dont ya think?" He grinned out before turning to his monitor," I just need to finish this building first and then I'll come to bed." He reassured.

Pouting at him, you walked over to him in his gaming chair. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders from behind and leaned your head in the crook of his neck. He stiffened up for a second but leaned into your touch, which told you just how tired he really was.

You brought your lips close to his ear," The bed's lonely without you..." You tried your best to sound cute before giving into your sluggish thoughts," and it's lowkey freezing without you next to me. You don't want me to die of hypothermia, right?"

Wheezing a little, he shook his head," Alright, alright. You've convinced me."

"Epic victory royale for me."

"Never say that again."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

🖤🔥Sapnap🔥🖤

Groaning in defeat, you closed your laptop after saving your assignment in frustration. Rubbing your eyes tiredly, you glanced at your phone and turned it on to check the time.

2:30 a.m

"Oh f-" you already knew you were gonna get shit from Nick as soon as you stepped foot into your shared bedroom.

Quickly packing your college material away, you raced upstairs quickly and made a bee-line to your bedroom. You opened the door quietly, smirking slightly when you heard the light snores coming from your boyfriend.

He was hugging a pillow close to himself, wrapped snugly within the comfy blankets. He looked like he was in heaven.

If anything, that only made you more tired.

You tiptoe to the bed and slowly crawled into the bed, trying your best to stop the groan of satisfaction from escaping your lips as soon as the blankets consumed you. You stared at Nick's peaceful face for a second before scooting closer to him for more heat.

The pillow beneath your head was so fluffy and comfortable that you were almost instantly consumed in dream-land, not before Nick stopped you.

"Did your bitchass finally give up on that dumb assignment." He muttered tiredly, replacing the pillow he was cuddling with you.

"I have to finish it tomorrow, dumbass..." You grunted out, your eyebrow slanting downwards slightly.

"Nah, fuck you. You're staying in bed with me tomorrow." He denied your statement instantly, pulling you ever closer.

"You make a good argument, I retract my statement..."

"Good."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

💤💙GeorgeNotFound💙💤

"Fuck yea-" You stopped your celebrating quickly as soon as you remembered that your boyfriend was literally sleeping behind you.

You had been editing a video all night, and despite his begging and whining, you just wouldnt go to bed with George. So he decided that he'd stay with you in the living room, refusing to go to bed without you.

You had protested against that, claiming that he needed his beauty sleep, which he had taken great offense to. So he sat behind you, wrapping his arms around you and placing his head in the crook of your neck, whining that he wasnt going to move until you came to bed with him.

You took this as a challenge," Aight bet." And continued to edit whilst your boyfriend was hugging you from behind.

About 10 minutes into editing, you heard George's familiar snores. You knew that he'd fall asleep quick anyways, sleeping is sort of his thing.

But now, you'd finally finished your editing and want to actually go to bed. Sighing at this dilemma and obvious karma, you closed your laptop after sending the video to Dream.

You leaned into George's heat, making him stir a little." George..." you whispered to him.

There was a lazy hum in response.

"Let's go to bed..." You muttered to him.

"....You lost that opportunity about 2 hours ago." He replied back stubbornly," It's expired."

"Oh, come on." You groaned out," If I stay in bed with you tomorrow as well, will you let us go to bed?"

He was silent.

"... Deal."

"Great, let's go, let's go."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

🎶💛Wilbur Soot💛🎶

"Alright, bed time. C'mon." Wilbur spoke up suddenly, making you jump from your place at your monitor.

"Wait wha-" You were interrupted as Wilbur wrapped his arms around your waist, squeezing you close to him. Your back pressed into his chest as he got you to stand up from your desk." Will, what are you-?"

"You've been editing all day. I need attention and affection." He muttered, a pout on his lips." So can we got to sleep please?" He sent you a slight grin.

"Will, this'll only take a couple of minutes." You sighed out with furrowed eyebrows.

His grin dropped," You said that an hour ago."

Your eyes widened at his words," I did?"

"You did."

"Shit." You rubbed your eyes, letting out another sigh," Jeez, I'm sorry Will... I'm an asshole." You muttered.

"Hmm.... hmmmmm thinking.... You could come to bed to sleep with me to make up for being an asshole?" He teased.

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully," you're not supposed to agree."

Laughing slightly, he wrapped his arms around you tighter," in all seriousness.... As sleepdeprived as I am, I don't want you following in my footsteps. So can we go to bed, please? I really need you in my arms right now."

You were taken aback by his confession but you could only give into his charms after he sent you a soft-eyed smile." Oh, alright."

"Thank fuck. Jesus, please never make me wait as long as you did tonight again."

"Noted."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

⭐👑Eret👑⭐

"Can we go to bed now?" You whined as Eret finally finished streaming." Jeez, it's like you love your chat more than me."

Eret laughed deeply at your words and shook their head," You know that's not trueee~" he sang out cutely." You have my heart, [Y/N], don't worry."

You couldn't stop the stop the soft smile from replacing your pout, your eyes softening at her." Aww.... Ali, you're so sweet to me... and you're super cheesy." You awed out, finding their response to be genuinely adorable.

" Ali? Sheesh, and you call me cheesy. Look in the mirror, love." He teased, finally turning his monitor off and making their way over to you. She towered over you, you've always compared them to a big friendly giant who loves to cuddle.

Sending her a teasing grin and a suggestive eyebrow raise, you spread your arms open for him to hug you," Bed time?"

They grinned slightly and wrapped their arms around you securely, squeezing you tightly against his chest in a loving hug." Bed time..."

"Finally."

"Were you really waiting that long?" She teased, getting your messy head of [H/C] hair." Aww, if I had known that, I would've ended earlier."

You hit him playfully," You suck, loser."

"Love you too, dear."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

(This one's a bit long lol.)

👑🐷Technoblade🐷👑

You let out a another yawn as you shivered lightly in the cold of the snowy area you and Techno lived in.

Your boyfriend had gone to the nether a couple of hours ago to collect wither skulls for 'decoration' but you already knew what he was scheming inside that chaotic head of his.

You've been waiting for about 5 hours in the freezing cold. Of course you've made yourself useful around the house, tending to the farm and gathering more materials overall.

Tommy helped here and there, but he was mostly gathering materials for himself.

Now you were beginning to worry for your boyfriend, he's been gone for so long.

So you decided to sit at the doorstep, a blanket wrapped around yourself and a hot cup of cocoa, refusing to fall asleep until you found out that Techno was okay.

Tommy had sat with you for an hour or so before he retired to his bed, stating," Techno's being a bitch. Not worth the time waiting for him." And then he left.

You had laughed at the teen's grumpiness towards Techno, but you didnt agree with him.

Techno was worth waiting for.

He always will be.

Taking another sip from your cocoa, you leaned your head against the door, blinking so that you're eyes wouldnt close due to fatigue and tiredness.

The steaming hot cocoa in your hands reminded you of the warm bed you share with Techno. How the fire would crackle and the smell of burning wood and berries filled the home. The blankets were huge and warm and would just consume you and Techno. How he stays up at night to read some history book and tell you about greek mythology.

"Fuck I miss him..." You muttered, your teeth chattering whic prompted you to wrap your blankets closer around you.

"Miss who?"

You jumped at the familiar voice, making you drop your hot cocoa. You looked up at the owner and your lip twitched a little," You're an asshole."

Techno raised an eyebrow down at you, taking off his pig mask to talk to you properly." HEH? What have I done??" He mumbled, silently outraged.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting here?? 5 hours, Techno!! I'm surprised I havent gotten hypothermia yet!" You exclaimed, standing from your spot on the doorstep," You even made me spill my cocoa!!"

Pouting like a child, your boyfriend narrowed his red eyes at you," How is the fact you spilled your cocoa my fault?"

You gave him a,' bitch, really?' Look and it made him reconsider his words.

"Oh wait a minute, I guess that is kinda my fault, huh? Ehhhh, its fiiiiine." He waved a hand dismissively and walked passed you to get into the house, throwing his red Cape off and then placing his items into a chest." So... you missed me, eh? I mean... I would too if I were you but... y'know."

You knew he was fishing for affection or gratitude, but you knew better than that. You were still angry at him.

"Wow, quite the ego on you." You rolled your eyes," and who said it was you that I was missing?"

Techno didnt look at you, he continued placing his items in his chest," Well.... who else would you miss?" He questioned carefully.

"Phil."

He turned to you, staring before shrugging," Yeah, that's pretty valid. I miss him too."

You groaned at his stubborn nature and sat down in a chair, rubbing your temples," You're such a pain." You muttered.

Techno froze at your words, finally sensing your distress. When he had finished putting his items away, he turned to your brooding form, a light frown upon his face. He walked over to you and gulped, his eyebrows furrowing with frustration. He really really wasnt one for comforting others, hes always found it hard to do so. That's what social anxiety does to you.

He placed a hand on your head, petting it lightly and awkwardly." Look.... I'm sorry."

You froze at his words and slowly looked up at him, an expectant look upon your face.

Techno took his hand from your head, prompting to cross his arms instead," I know that you were worried, I shouldve taken that into consideration. But ya need to understand that I'm strong, [Y/N]. You dont need to worry for my safety at all, I can handle myself."

You frowned a little before sighing," You know I worry because I love you." You stated simply, looking down at your shoes.

The male's cheeks heated up a little and he nodded," 'course..." he grumbled bashfully.

Lips twitching into a slight smile, you stood from your chair and grabbed both of his hands gently, intertwining his fingers with yours." Well... I'm glad you're safe... I missed you a lot."

Techno's face only reddened even further as he completely avoided eye contact with you, his palms growing sweaty but refusing to let go of your smaller and softer hands." U-uh... wanna know another reason why you shouldnt worry about me dyin'?" He's trying his best to hide the fact he was embarrassed.

You grinned slightly and leaned a little closer to him," Yeah. Tell me."

He looked deeply into your eyes, his face still flushed. He leaned a little closer to your face, his ruby-red eyes swirling with an emotion you couldnt quite put your finger on.

Your eyes flicker down to his lips as he began to speak, his hot breath hitting your own lips.

"Because Technoblade never dies."

You pulled yourself from him instantly," You just ruined the romantic moment. AGAIN." You stated simply.

He huffed out a laugh at your exclaim," Aww c'mon it was funny! Please tell me I'm funny--"

"You're not funny. I'm going to bed, bye." You then walked away from him, Techno trailed behind you with a shit-eating grin on his lips.

"You know I still have 3 canon lives left as well, right?"

"I am now choosing to no longer understand english." You replied simply.

"Ok, nerd."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

🐏🖤Jschlatt🖤🐏

"The fuck are you up so late for." It was more of a statement than a question.

You looked up at your floating boyfriend in all of his blue sweater and ram-horned glory." You're up late too, dumbass." You shot back, downing another cup of coffee.

"[Y/N]... I'm a fuckin' ghost. You think I need sleep? Use your head woman." He insulted as he floated behind you, peeking over your shoulder to see what you were up too.

You seemed to be writing something in a book, he couldnt really read it though so he leaned onto your back, leaning his chin on your shoulder. His eyes skimmed over the words and he scowled a little.

"What the hell are you s'posed to be writing." He grumbled out.

"It's just a book for the different materials Alex told me to gather." You stated simply, leaning your head against his slightly.

"Good idea. Knowin' you, your dumbass would probably forget." He hummed out," But why waste your time on this when you could be sleeping."

Frowning with furrowed eyebrows, you continued to write in the book," I mean... its Alex. I dont wanna let the guy down, he's the vice president."

"Eh... Whose Alex again? He the one with the flatty patty?"

You buried your face in your hands, holding in a laugh." You're an idiot..." You muttered out, trying to contain your laughter.

"Takes one to know one asshole." Schlatt responded, floating away from you and to your bed. He lay on top of it comfortably," OoOoOoh~ look at how comfortable this fuckin' bed looks [Y/N]~ mm yes, comfy comfy, yes very comfy."

Smiling a little, you turned to him and raised an eyebrow," You sure its comfy?"

He was silent for a moment before he nodded," trust me. You know what they call me?"

You rolled your eyes, sighing slightly,"... what do they call you..."

"The bed master."

"You fucking-" You're sentence cut off as you broke out into a laugh. Schlatt couldnt stop the slight smile from crossing over his lips at successfully cheering you up.

"This is a very comfy bed. You should try it out with me, right now." It was more of a threat than a suggestion.

"How can I trust you though?..."

"Maybe if you try the bed out for yourself you can decide whether it's comfy or not, fuckin' moron."

You stared at him with a deadpan expression before giving in," you make a valid point. You win this argument." Standing from the table, you walked over to your bed and flopped onto it next to Schlatt.

He stared down at you expectantly;" Well? Was I right or was I right?"

You moved around on the bed a little, and sighed," .....It feels like I'm lying on a fucking cloud...." you gave up.

Schlatt shot you a shit-eating grin," Right?? The bed master strikes once again." Then his smile dropped," Dont ever fuckin' question me again."

"Gotcha."

He turned a little in the bed and threw an arm over you, pulling you close to him. You stared up at him with a confused gaze, which made him roll his eyes." Gonna help you sleep." He grunted out.

"Ahhh... Okay." You snuggled a little closer to him." Thank you for existing, Schlatt."

"At least one of us are happy I exist." He deadpanned.

"Hey Schlatt? Did you fall from heaven, cause you look like you fell- wait I messed that up."you silently cursed to yourself.

"You fucking loser."

"Lemme try again... Did you fall from heaven? Cause you look like an angel."

"... That makes no fucking sense. Are you comparing me to Satan then? He was the angel that fell from heaven." He looked slightly offended." I'll have you know that I am a devoted Catholic-"

You deadpanned when he wouldnt accept the pick-up line and gave up,"... You're hot." you stated bluntly.

"I know. Goodnight."

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

❤🦆Quackity🦆❤

"Fuuuuck... I'm so fucking tired chat." Alex laughed out slightly, trying his best to contain another yawn. His chat instantly began to complain to him, telling him to hurry up and end the stream then. " aww... you all care so much for me." He fake cried." I dont deserve you guys."

MikeHawk: GO TO BED YOU SMALL MAN

Likywastaken: GO SLEEP ASSHOLE

He snorted at the comment," Wow, are y'all hitting on me orrr? Hit me up." He joked teasingly, a slight grin upon his lips.

The familiar sound of,' Me perdonas' came through his headset, indicating he had received a donation.

Duh_Itz_y/n has donated $4.20

Go the fuck to bed you bitch <3

His eyes lit up at your familiar twitch name and he chuckled lightly." Y/N, my love, you have such a way with words." He stated sarcastically, ignoring how his chat started spamming your name." Thanks for the dono but you literally can just call me on discord, fucking idiot."

And just like that, his discord went off, it made him jump in his gaming chair. He covered it up with a cough and answered the call," Hola hermosa."

"Did you just fucking jump when I called you?"

He sputtered," The fuck??? No. You're tripping."

"YOU DID. You're such a pussy boy."

"Yes, I am a pussy boy because I attract all the puss-"

"Stop talking." You interrupted," Why arent you asleep Alex? I don't know if you knew this buuut, 2 am is usually the time when people should be sleeping." You stated, snarky and teasing.

"If you wanted to get me alone you shouldve just said so, babe." He stated simply, you could hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

He heard you laugh from the other side, making his heart flutter in his chest." I wish I was there but Mexico is like hours away." You muttered.

"Why are you awake? You've been going off to me but it's late where you are too."

"It's cause I was watching your shitass stream. I'm such a dedicated girlfriend, arent I? I just love you so much." You laughed out.

"Aww, you're such a simp for me..." Alex pressed a hand to his cheek embarrassingly, mocking that he was flustered." Should I just end the stream now then. I wanna talk to you now."

"Now you're the one wanting to get me alone Hmm?"

"Yeah, at least I can admit it. Looks like you're the pussy here." He spat your words right back at you.

"End the stream."

"Yes ma'am."

"Pfft, and you say you arent a fucking bottom." You teased.

"Y/N, I am still strEAMING-"

#dream smp x you #jschlatt x reader #dream smp x reader #quackity x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #eret x reader #dream x reader #sapnap x reader #georgenotfound x reader #technoblade x reader #mcyt x reader

[imagineabrighterworld]

A/N: I fought tooth and nail for this prompt so I hope you like it anon 👀

—

Dabi had left the Nightscape for several reasons.

For better scenery, for less screaming, for.. for a third reason, and to escape his crazy as fuck ex girlfriend who never seemed to get the point that they were done. She was a phase, she wasn’t the endgame.

Did she get that as he tossed her ass out of his apartment? No, she just came back with a lighter to set his home ablaze. But the woman didn't realize he controlled flames as easily as he did breathing.

So he left. He packed a few things, clothes and whatever currency the humans were using nowadays and went up to the world beyond. His father was one of the lords of the Nightscape, but he didn't need to worry about slipping past him, Dabi was thought to be dead for ages.

More like “Touya” had been dead for ages, but that was a clusterfuck of different issues he didn't care to unfold.

Living above ground had added perks beyond escaping a crazy ex and not being surrounded by shades and wraiths on the daily. He could take on the form of a true human, not the horned and fanged form he usually wore. His tail was gone, and his scars and staples were replaced with tattoos and piercings, but he grew used to his new form very quickly.

In the human world, humans had long since developed quirks, so his flames were not an oddity. He was thankful for them when he was questioned about how he got his scars, scars that would occasionally show through his glamour. It was an easy answer, his body couldn't handle his “quirk”. People gave him sad eyes and let him go.

Easy.

What he did struggle with was the occasional demon hunter nearly tracking him down, but he always managed to turn their eye the other way. Was it testing the line choosing to live so close to a school that trained demon hunters? Yes, but he was always good at magic, a simple glamour always did the trick.

When he scored a job at a coffee shop, he was pleased to see it was a simple transaction kind of job. No one would be able to ask him why his eyes were constantly rivaling the blue of his flames or why a phantom tail would lash out and occasionally spill the row of cups behind him.

He pegged it as a ghost haunting the shop, and so it became a little inside joke within the workers ranks and some of the shop's patrons.

Opening on a rainy Wednesday, he looks around the room before lighting the candles at the tables with a flame on his pinkie finger. Setting up the tables and scooting in the chairs, he walks back to the counter and sets up the machines when the door rings, signalling someone had entered.

“Welcome.” He rolls out in a soft purr, a habit from years of toying with his playthings as an incubus. Eventually he would get rid of the habit. “What can I get for you today?” He turns around.

You were soaking wet with a satchel above your head, you were shivering and looking at the coffee machines as if they were god sent.

You looked adorable.

He leans on the counter with a growing smile. “Wet out there isn't it?”

Your gaze snaps to him. Your eyes were a soft mahogany color, reminding him of a tree. It wasn't the most romantic thing he could come up with, but trees were also very rare to find in the Nightscape, so he supposed it was based on your point of view. “C-Coffee. Please.”

“Sure thing babe, what kind?”

“A mocha cappuccino with three shots of espresso.”

He quirks a brow as he types in your order. “Three?”

“I usually get five but my doctor told me I need to cut down.”

“How about you aim for two?”

“I don't think I’d survive that loss sir.”

He chuckles. “Sir?” He asks as he tells you the price of your drink, accepting your soggy wad of cash and giving you your change once the transaction was complete. “Well madam, your drink will be out shortly, take some napkins to dry up, they’re by the sugar.”

He spots a small blush on your face as you go to the condiments counter. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He prepares your drink as he hears you pluck a plethora of napkins out of their container. Small curses are all he hears as you open your bag, he hears the clicking of latches and the zipping of zippers. You scuttle past the counter and stop in front of the register again.

“Do you have a bathroom? My bag is drenched..”

He brings you your drink and tilts his head as he debates your question. A bathroom wouldn't solve the water issue, you just thought it would.

Dabi places your drink on the counter and holds his hand out. “I can dry your bag.”

You smile, adjusting your glasses in the mean time. “You have a wind quirk?”

“I'm not a blowdryer.” He grins. “But I can still dry it for you.”

You debate his words, looking down at your soggy satchel that was only getting worse as time passed. You hand him the bag with an accepting sigh. “Please.”

He takes your bag and lights his hands on fire. You nearly scream before he speaks up. “I can control my fire, this one won’t burn anything, it's just warm.”

“Oh.” You shut your mouth with a sheepish bow of your head. “Sorry.”

“It's alright.” He turns the bag in his hold, looking at the patches and bad attempts at embroidery on its edges. It was cute. The sad little attempts seemed to get better as they reached the top, which led him to believe this was your first attempt at embroidery.

What would you do if he had burnt it to ash?

His flames were highly destructive, and sometimes even he couldn't handle them.

Maybe he was being risky to test his powers like this. It had been ages since he last used his flames for something more than lighting a silly candle or a cigarette.

“So..”

Oh right, you were still there.

He looks at you and rotates the bag in his hold. “Yes?”

“Is it always this empty?”

“Only when you're here.” He winks.

“Rude.”

“Rude, sir.”

You laugh, and from that point on he's hooked to the sound.

-

Dabi used to like his job, now it was turning into something akin to gratitude. It allowed him to see you on most days.

He had learned quite a few things about you ever since that rainy day.

You were a teacher in training, specifically the nearby high school. You were aiming for Shiketsu and had a foot in the door with the vice principal taking notice of you during their mock trials. He didn't peg you for a demon hunter, but everyone had a hidden side to them. Hah. You had two pet birds named Sweet Pea and Darlington, you had a snake named Petra and were looking into getting a newt.

You loved coffee but hated it black, it needed sugar or chocolate of some kind because you couldn't stand bitter food. You loved spicy food even if you couldn't tolerate it, and you adored sour candies.

While you looked book smart, you were also street smart, and he was beginning to believe you might be vying for a spot as a demon slayer teacher. He just didn't know what your quirk was yet.

“Hey Dabi.” You chime in unison with the doorbell as you walk inside, this time with an umbrella to keep yourself out of the rain.

He leans on the counter with a grin. “Hey babe. What is it today? The usual?”

“Just a shot of espresso this time.”

He narrows his eyes. “Are you sick?”

“Nope.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking back and forth on your heels with a huge smile on your face. “I got news.”

“Do tell.” He says as he starts preparing your shot.

“I got the job!” You squeal in excitement, arms coming out of hiding so you can clasp them in front of you. “Starting in the spring I’m going to be the new first year homeroom teacher!”

He genuinely smiles. So you wanted to ruin your happiness with a shot of liquid bitter? He didn't understand you sometimes.  “I thought your celebration drink would be a sakura latte, not a shot of espresso.”

You wave your hand dismissively, already removing your wallet from your pocket. “I'll come back for one.”

“Two visits in one day? Is that a gift for you or for me?” He chuckles and hands you your espresso, taking your yen and entering it into the register.

You adjust the glasses on your face. "I figured I would grace your presence because you've been so humble as to fuel my caffeine addiction."

"It's my duty to make sure you don't kill some other sorry bastard with a coffee maker."

Your eyes flash green for a split second, and in that moment he has to keep from reeling back. Did he really see that?

The cups behind him tumble to the ground.

His tail had appeared in his brief moment of shock.  

You cock your head to the side. "What happened?"

He kneels and collects the cups. "The shop's ghost. Don't mind it."

"I thought I saw a-"

"How about I give you the latte now? On me." He interrupts you mid sentence, standing up with the cups in his arms.

The blush on your face was one of his favorite sights in the human world.

"You don't have to Dabi."

"It's just a drink." He waves you along to one of the booths. "Sit, it'll be ready soon."

You take your shot of espresso and go to the booth he had motioned you to.

The way you scrunched your nose in disgust as you drank your shot was also one of his new favorite sights.

Maybe it was just you.

--

After you had gotten your job at Shiketsu, you were around every morning to prepare for the day. Sometimes you would come by for lunch, unfortunately he clocked out on those days, but sometimes he would make sure he was in the area just to catch you off-guard. Those days he spent his lunch with you, and you got to tell him stories about your students.

It was one of your lunch breaks when hell came to toll.

His eyes were trained on you as you spoke, you were talking about a girl who wielded fire similar to him when the bell of the cafe rang.

The sound resonated through him, and in that moment he knew who was at the door.

What was at the door.

His glamour of his new human form nearly drops as he hears a woman's voice ask from the counter of the cafe.

“Is Dabi here?” She croons in a sickly sweet voice he hadn't heard in nearly a year. He doesn't hear his coworkers' response but he feels the air fill with the flowery scent of her. He grits his teeth to keep his fangs from showing through as he hears her heels click against the ground.

You had stopped your explanation and looked behind him, adjusting your glasses as you did so. “You're looking for Dabi?”

“I am, what a sweet peach you've got here Dabi~ I didn't know you still had it in you to snag such a cutie, your charms must still be working even in this sad form.” He feels her hand on his shoulder, her fingernails drumming along the stitching of his jacket. “Did you catch her, or did she come crawling to you?”

He knows he has to speak up, before she says another word, but his fangs were already piercing the inside of his lip as his glamour slipped.

He looks at you with the most apologetic gaze he can muster. Grabbing his coffee, he lifts it to his mouth to hide his fangs and he speaks. “Excuse me.” He stands up and slams the cup on the table, grabbing the wrist of the woman behind him and dragging her out of the shop and into the closest alleyway.

He slams her against the wall with her arm pinned above her head. His glamour drops completely, his scars and horns bared for the world to see as he growls with rage. “You!”

The succubus in front of him smiles coyly, dragging a finger across his scars and the staples holding his mouth together. “Aren't you happy to see me? To see one of your own again?”

“No. What do you want?”

She plays at pulling on one of the staples but is stopped as he pins her other hand up as well. The succubus sighs and turns her head, “I come see you and all I get is this. And seeing you with a little human.” She peers at him with violet eyes. “Don't tell me you've gone soft Dabi. She’s human, she’ll die just like a human too.”

He hadn't let that thought slip into his mind and wasn't planning on starting to. He tightens his grip on her wrists. “We broke up, I made that clear.” A feral grin forms on his face, pulling at the staples on his face. “I told you, if you try me again, I’ll kill you.”

“I heard you had a human now. We all heard.” She whispers, her eyes glowing in the dark of the alley. “They know Dabi.”

His grip falters.

Shit.

Shit. Shit Shit-

He lets go of her wrists and he paces in the alleyway, flames licking at his face as his emotions spiralled.

“They need your power, but you’re squandering it here with a girl who will die before you know it. While you're full of youth, she will be an old crone with nothing but a coffin awaiting her.” She didn't sound bothered at all as she rubs her wrists. “Honestly Dabi, you were the one that taught me never to fall for a human. They’re too brittle, their life essence too weak.”

He did teach her. He taught her to keep her heart shut and to leave it open only for him. He taught her a little too well, as she now believed she had rights to him.

But he never taught himself as well as he did her.

He fell for you bad, and you were mortal.

“Anyway, I was told one of two things. Either bring you back with me, or expose you so you have no other choice but to return.”

He looks back at her, his rage quelled only by the dread that was now spiralling in him. “You will do no such thing!” He roars, his flames igniting and setting him ablaze. “If you dare go near her-”

The succubus’s body transforms into mist starting from her feet then rising to her waist. She puts a finger to her lips. “I’ll be back in three days. If you don't do it, I will.”

She was gone. Leaving him alone in the alley with nothing but flames that wouldn't stop burning.

-

Dabi spent the next two days trying to find ways to tell you, but with each scenario came the same question.

What would you do if you knew he was a demon? You worked at a school that trained demon slayers- what other option for you would there be if not to turn him in? It was your duty to turn in any demon that showed up at your door, and here you were having coffee with him.

He couldn't do it.

On the third day, it was raining, just like the day he met you.

He hated the mist that had surrounded the shop, reminding him of the succubus and her promise.

Three days.

He had to tell you.

But why was it so damn hard to do? He used to be cold and calculated, having his fun toying with human emotions and killing without regret. He had no empathy, no sympathy for the lives he ruined.

But you were kind. So incredibly kind.

He rests his head on the counter as the door opens. He scents you in the air before you even step through, the smell of milk and honey wafting in the air as you approach the counter.

He had to tell you.

“Morning Dabi!” You cheer as you fold up your umbrella. “A mocha cappuccino with two shots of espresso please!”

He looks up and smiles crookedly. “Finally down to two?”

“I figured I would finally listen to you.”

“That's my girl.” He chuckles as he grabs a cup and prepares your drink. His hands were shaking, but he knew what he had to do.

When your drink was ready and paid for, Dabi keeps his hand on the cup as you take it from him, your hand overlapping his. You look at him with curious eyes behind your wide rimmed glasses. “Dabi? What’s wrong?”

“If I told you I was a bad man, what would you do?”

You narrow your eyes, but keep your hand over his. “Stealing a croissant from the place you work at isn't evil Dabi-”

“Not that.” He laughs but it's noticeably strained. “Not that.” He looks you in the eyes, greedily taking in the sight of you, for perhaps the last time. “What if I told you I was a bad man, who did horrible things. Whose caused terrible things.”

Your hand tightens around his, he feels the tremors in your body before you still.

“I would tell you I know better than to judge you for what you've done, and tell you that I judge you for who you are now. Does that forgive you of what you've done or what you've caused? No. But I judge what I see. And I see a good man.”

He lets out a shaky breath as his glamor drops, revealing his true form of scars and fangs and horns. His flames curl around him as he whispers. “What if I'm not a man?”

You jump back, hands flying to your glasses before they could tumble off of your face. You stare at him with your jaw hanging.

He looks at the coffee still in his grasp. At the scars covering his body.

He knew it.

He puts down the cup.

He knew it.

Clapping comes from the corner of the room where the succubus has taken form, her body still halfway between corporal and mist. She smiles, showing off her sharpened canines. “Bravo Dabi, I almost thought I’d have to do it myself.”

You shut your mouth and look at the succubus. “You're from before-”

“I am.” She purrs. “And I’m here to take Dabi home. Shigaraki will be happy to see his lieutenant again.”

Dabi burns away his apron, leaving him in his normal attire, the stitches of his black coat catching his eye. Memories of your embroidered bag slip through his mind, though are soon flushed out entirely when he hears the shattering of tables as a high pitched shriek comes from the mist succubus.

He phases through the counter in a wall of heatless flame as he sees you covering your ears.

The shriek had destroyed the tables and windows turning them into scrap, and had shattered your glasses. Blood was running down your ears from between your hands.

He stands between you and the succubus, his arms lit with powerful blue flames. “This wasn't part of the deal!”

“Not our deal. Shigaraki doesn't want you to have any temptations for returning to the human world. We need your girl gone for good.” She grins fiendishly. “She will never grow old, isn't that the best gift you could receive?”

“Dabi-” You call out from behind him.

“Stay back!” He yells at you. “Get out of here!” But he knew if you went into the rain outside, you would be done for. The succubus would be able to drown you where you stood.

Her body turns to pure water as she rushes at him. With her power boosted by the rain that washed in through the broken windows, all he could do was send wave after wave of fire to evaporate the water.

But what was evaporation if not mist?

He was fighting a losing battle as he backed up until he finally reached you. He covers you with his body as he puts up a wall of flame.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers to you as his flames are soon put out. “I’m sorry.”

You lift your hands to his face, eyes still closed, and pull him in, pressing your forehead against his.

“Don't be sorry for the things you can't control.” You whisper in return.

The succubus’s body turns corporal from the waist up. She coos. “How sweet, one last goodbye.”

You press a kiss to his lips.

“Don't open your eyes.” You murmur against his lips before letting go of his face and turning around to look at the succubus.

He closes his eyes, prepared to hear you scream in pain, prepared to hear your body drop to the ground.

But all he hears is the loud boom of thunder from outside and the crackle of rock breaking.

Rock?

He opens his eyes and sees you on your knees in front of a marble statue of the succubus.

His eyes widen as he sees you stand up. From the reflection of the marble, he can see your eyes flashing green.

“Did I ever tell you my mother was a demon?” You ask as you kneel and pick up your eyeglass frames from the floor. “She called herself Medusa. Silly, huh? My dad was human though, and well, as you know, they had me..” You turn around, your eyes now closed. “I guess you can say my quirk is having a very strange lineage.”

Dabi gets to his feet and runs at you, barreling into you with his arms swiftly wrapping around you.

You return the hug, your face nuzzled into his chest.

“So.. you're not mortal?” He says quietly, as if the good luck that had been shone upon the both of you would wither out.

“I'm not. It's my hundred and twenty-fourth this year.” You look up from his hold, he could see the faint glow of green from under your eyelashes. “Will you be there?”

He tightens his hold and presses his lips against yours.

“As if I'd ever leave.”

#bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha dabi #boku no hero academia dabi #bnha dabi x reader #mha dabi x reader #my hero academia dabi x reader #dabi x reader #touya x reader #- Luca #I snatched this prompt and I will fistfight Jesus all over again #- beta Andro #wHo aPParEntly cAnt ReAd

[delaber]

Three-Point Perspective (Part 2)

Rafael Casal x Reader x Daveed Diggs

Note: Guys! When I wrote Three-Point Perspective, I wasn’t planning on adding a second part to it but the amount of support was so overwhelming that I just had to do a sequel ...And let me tell you; I am so glad you guys wanted it because this was so much fun! I have never been more challenged with a story-line, portraying emotions, changing perspectives, and just the plot in general. I have never never never changed a story-line as much as I did for this one, haha! Crazy amounts of shout-outs and thanks to my amazing mate @einfachniemand​ for listening to countless of ideas, for feedback on several snippets, for being supportive af, and for telling me “yeah, no, that doesn’t work. Back to the drawing board.” Thank you boo! You are amazing! A huge thanks to @theatrenerd86​ for starting off this sequel by providing the settings - and for just being the most supportive human being ever! Mwah! Also a huge thanks to the rest of you for your endless support! I love this community! (Oh, and anon; thanks for the (quite old, sorry) prompt but I didn’t do it for Rafa (sorry once again)). Let me know what you guys think!

Words: 13.8K

Warnings: Oh my goodness, I don’t even wanna get started... Blood, heartbreak, angst (my three tropes)

Rafael

Rafa almost tripped over his own two feet as he stumbled over to the bar and desperately ordered a large whiskey shooter. He was having a hard time keeping calm; his heart was beating fast in his chest, his throat closing in on itself, his hairline soaked in panic-sweat. He needed to put what had just happened in the very seat he was standing in front of at a distance. His hands were still itching to punch something! He needed the fucking drink!

The bartender had barely stopped pouring Maker's Mark into a small glass before Rafa quickly grabbed it and chugged its contents down his throat, desperately trying to block out what he had just witnessed.

Your tongue in his best friend's ear.

Diggs' hand sliding up your thigh.

The sensual smile you'd worn as Diggs had whispered promising words in your ear.

"Oh god," Rafa groaned as he recalled your excited smile as his best friend had escorted you out of the bar, his hand dipping uncomfortably low on your hips.

Desperately clutching the now empty whiskey glass, Rafa tried relentlessly to push away the image of what you and Diggs probably were in the midst of doing right now. Oh shit, oh no... His chest was stinging, his stomach aching horribly at the thought of you and Diggs fucking. Oh god. He tried to shift his focus to the burning sensation down his esophagus instead and quickly ordered another shooter.

It didn't take long before the bartender had placed another glass of golden-brown liquid in front of him that he quickly downed in one go, thinking about how stupid he was for not having acted on his feelings for you earlier. He had had eight fucking years to do so after all?! Why the fuck hadn't he just pulled himself together and called you up?! He wanted to punch something! He wanted to get fucked up! He wanted to call someone and get them to deliver a big fucking bag of blow - but he settled on a third shooter.

He gulped down the whiskey as the aggression subsided and was replaced by the same type of jealousy-induced heartburn that he had felt earlier that night. Fucking Daveed Diggs and the way he always seemed to be able to wrap women around his little finger! In eight minutes, he had managed to do to you what Rafa hadn't managed to do for eight years. Fuck him!

A fourth whiskey went down Rafa's throat as the jealousy was replaced by hurtful pangs in his chest; shit it hurt to think about you and Diggs together. Rafa knew that you had had a few men in your life since the summer in the taco truck, and even though it had stung to see pictures of your romances on Instagram, it didn't hurt half as much as seeing his best friend escort you out of the bar.

He ordered another whiskey. And another one after that. And then an entire bottle of Jameson just to recall the taste of your lips that night on top of the skate ramps all those years ago. Quickly, Rafa gulped down most of the bottle, his eyes watering from the sharp taste of alcohol on his tongue, but no matter how much he drank, he still wasn't able to get image of you and Diggs out of his head. It had etched itself on the back of his eyelids, somehow becoming clearer and clearer with every gulp of fiery liquid.

It didn't take long before he had reached the half-way mark on the bottle of Jameson, completely lost in constantly checking his phone to see if you had tried to contact him to tell him that Diggs by some miracle had blown his shot. You hadn't. And even though Rafa doubted that you would, he still couldn't put the phone away.

He was fumbling about on the screen as he accidentally found Diggs' name on the list of contacts. Completely lost in contemplating whether or not he should call him up and tell him to stay the fuck away from you, he jumped a little when he suddenly felt a soft hand on his shoulder. For about a mili-second, Rafa believed that the soft touch belonged to you, but as soon as he had whipped around in his seat, he felt the disappointment cloud his mind as he was met by his make-up artist Janelle instead. "Oh, hey," he spoke in an uninterested tone of voice, his words a little slurred from the amount of whiskey he'd been drinking.

"Rafa, honey, are you okay?" She looked at him with kind eyes, "you seem a little out of it."

"I'm great," he slurred into his whiskey glass before emptying it for what felt like the 100th time that night, "I'm fucking perfect! This night's just absolutely fucking perfect."

Janelle furrowed her brows and pushed the bottle of Jameson out of Rafa's reach, "is it because of Daveed and -"

"- DON'T say her name," Rafa warned, his voice turning to a low drunk growl afterwards, "I don't want to think about it."

Janelle sat down on the empty barstool next to him and sent him a slow nod, "yeah, I was afraid this might happen..." she sighed and sent him a pitiful look.

"That what might happen?" Rafa drunkenly mumbled, trying to avoid her gaze.

"Honey... I've seen the way you look at her," Janelle whispered and reassuringly put her hand on Rafa's arm as she searched his face for any kind of affirmation. Rafa groaned and met her eyes shortly before she softly added, "- and I've seen the way Daveed looks at her too."

Rafa gulped to keep the slowly forming lump in this throat at bay, "...so you don't think it's just a one-night thing?" He croaked in a small whisper, the pain in his chest suddenly twice as hurtful as before.

Janelle shook her head slowly, shooting Rafa a careful look.

"And - uhm," Rafa cleared his throat "- do you think that - uh - she's into him as well?" He added in a whisper, his face involuntarily screwed up as he was afraid to hear the answer.

"I don't know, honey," Janelle said diplomatically and pulled him in for a tight hug, inaudibly giving away that she definitely thought so. Rafa appreciated Janelle's attempt to salvage the situation and let her comfort him for a couple of seconds before she slowly let go of him again, sending him a heartfelt look in the process. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"No..." Rafa mumbled and reached for the bottle that Janelle had pushed away moments before.

She grabbed his arm and forced it down in his lap instead, "why don't you leave the bottle and instead call it a night, boo? You've been drinking quite a lot already."

Rafa gulped a little and realised that she was right. Nothing good would come from sitting at the bar, drowning his sorrows in cheap whiskey. "Yeah," he groaned as he ran a hand through his damp hair, "yeah... You're right. Might be a good idea..."

"Go grab your jacket. I'll call you a cab, okay?"

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled before scrambling to his feet, swaying a little from side to side. He managed to balance himself and stagger over to the coat check where he retrieved his leather jacket and slowly pulled it on with great difficulty.

"I got you," Janelle was suddenly behind him, helping him pull the jacket up his arms.

"Thanks," Rafa mumbled as he pulled on the collar to rearrange the leather over his shoulders.

"You wanna say bye to the rest of the crew?" Janelle piped from behind him.

He shot a quick glance across the room and towards the table that his friends were occupying. "I better set an example," he mumbled even though he'd rather be sitting in a cab on his way home right now.

With his arm around Janelle, and her hand on his chest to steady him, Rafa walked over to his co-stars, putting up his best attempt at a cheerful smile, "I'm off guys. Have a lovely evening," he slurred drunkenly.

He thought to himself that he was doing a tremendous job of hiding away his hurt feelings until he noticed their stiff smiles. Suddenly, he realised by the sympathetic looks they were all shooting him from their seats, that they were well-aware of what was going on. Rafa quickly scanned their silent, pained faces one by one until Alessandro - one of the leads - finally spoke up, "see you Monday boss!"

Annoyed with their pitiful eyes, Rafa mumbled a, "see you Monday, bruh," and turned around, facing Janelle again as the others awkwardly looked away. It made him feel stupid.

"Cab's outside," Janelle tried to smile and pulled him in for a hug, "are you going to be okay, boo?"

"I don't know," Rafa croaked truthfully against her neck and let her pull him just a little closer.

"Call me tomorrow, okay?" She let go of him, "We'll do something fun."

"Okay," Rafa slurred, his eyes stinging as he turned away from her and towards the exit.

Slowly, he stumbled out of the bar and hopped into the yellow cab outside, closing his eyes desperately in the backseat, trying to block out any thought of you and Diggs but failing horribly. The ride home was the longest drive of Rafa's life, his thoughts sporadic and unorganised but all centred around the same thing: what would he come home to? Had you and Diggs gone to your place? Or to Diggs' place that he just happened to share with Rafa? Fuck, he almost couldn't bear the thought of coming home to meet Diggs balls deep in you on the couch. Rafa would never purposely punch Diggs, but if he came home to face that, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold back his itching fist.

"He's your best friend," Rafa mumbled to himself as a reminder, hoping to calm himself down, "he's your best friend. He didn't know. He's innocent... - well apart from fucking your girl..."

Everything inside him was on fire.

"You alright back there, mate?" The cab driver shot Rafa a look in the rear-view mirror, apparently concerned about the whispered words, he'd heard coming from the backseat.

"Yeah," Rafa replied unenthusiastically, a little annoyed that everybody seemed to be so concerned with him - but he eventually stopped thinking out loud.

For the remainder of the trip, the driver kept his mouth shut too but annoyingly enough constantly checked in on Rafa in the rear-view mirror.

Rafa was relieved when the driver finally pulled over outside his home and paid him quickly, slamming the car door shut with much force, hoping to alleviate some of the all-consuming itch that he felt deep in his bones. Little did it help. He still wanted to punch something.

Rafa turned his attention towards the house and gave out a short sigh before he started swaying up the paved pathway in the small yard, briefly stopping before he reached the front door. He prayed that you had taken Diggs to your place and not the other way around. He couldn't handle being faced with his worst nightmare - and especially not after having had so much to drink. Right now, he couldn't account for how he'd react.

He stood with his key in hand for a while, scared of what might come, but eventually realised that he would have to go inside at some point. With a deep sigh, he slowly slid his key in the lock and turned it around, his palms sweating terribly. He felt his heart sinking down to the bottom of his stomach when the key didn't meet any kind of resistance, and he realised that the door was already unlocked.

Fuck... Diggs had taken you here.

With a burning sensation in his chest, Rafa quietly pushed open the front door and stepped inside the small hallway, closing the door behind him with a small thump. He closed his eyes and threw his head up against the wooden door, forcing himself to relax by taking three deep breaths - a technique he had learned from his mother when he had been nervous about doing spoken words for the first time at fifteen.

He focused on his breathing for a few seconds and after having exhaled a third time - already more relaxed than before - he opened his eyes and took in the room. He immediately saw that the floor of the narrow hallway was decorated with several pieces of discarded garments strewn randomly about on the stone floor.

Diggs' pants. Your dress. Your bra.

"No..." Rafa groaned quietly as he took in the pieces of clothes with a hard gulp, the tears stinging in his eyes when he realised what he was being confronted with. "No, no, no!" he buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath to get himself under control again. His entire chest was on fire, the taste of stomach acid thick on his tongue. Everything around him went quiet as he heaved in a big gulp of air, wishing that he had stayed sober tonight. This was all getting too much; he couldn't control it. He was too drunk.

He took another big gulp of air, and was just about to slowly exhale when a soft sound hit his ear canal... It was coming from the other room.

A moan.

A sweet, heartfelt, sensual moan.

From a woman - from you...

It was the result of a sincere reaction to something that had brought you immense pleasure. A moan that someone else had brought to your lips. A moan that Rafa's best friend had brought to your lips.

Fuck! The itch in his hands that he had felt for quite some time now suddenly became too much and he punched the wall hard, causing an old, framed picture of him and Diggs to fall down, the frame shattering in several pieces on the cold stone floor. He stared at the broken shards of glass for a few seconds, torturing himself by carefully listening for more of your sweet moans echoing throughout the house.

They didn't come, however. The entire house was suddenly completely silent. Thank god.

Slowly, Rafa squatted down to brush the glass-dust off your dress, the silky fabric soft between his fingertips as he pulled the dress to his chest, thinking about what it would feel like to be the one to pull it off you.

Without warning, however, the silence in the hallway was broken by another loud moan coming from Diggs' personal space and Rafa was quickly brought out of his trance. He had to get out of there! He would go to a hotel or something! Anything to get away from the sounds you were making for another man!

Slightly panicked, Rafa shuffled to get to his feet, but overbalanced and fell forwards, his left hand immediately softening the blow as a reflex. From the moment his palm hit the floor, Rafa felt a sharp pain in his hand, but didn't realise that he had cut himself before he rotated his elbow and saw the huge piece of broken glass that was prodding out of his palm. "You're kidding me," he groaned as he tried to focus on the glass shard before he grabbed it tightly and forcefully pulled it out of his skin, the warm blood immediately running down his hand as a terribly sharp pain started pulling at his fingers. "OH FUCK!" he exclaimed a little louder than he had intended to, unable to hold back in his inebriated state.

Pressing in on the wound to try and get it to stop bleeding, he hurried to the bathroom and quickly located an old towel that he wrapped tightly around his bloody hand. "Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" He groaned loudly and slid down the wall, his ass hitting the cold floor with a small thump. He could hear hushed voices coming from Diggs' personal space next door, and he realised that he had no idea what hurt the most; the thought of you lying in there wearing nothing but your panties, or his throbbing hand that had already bled through the old towel.

"Shit," he mumbled to himself as he replaced the old piece of cloth with a clean one, "ah fuck it hurts!" He hissed and tried to push the wound shut to get it to stop bleeding. It helped for a few seconds before the gash opened back up, fresh blood spilling out again. Just looking at it made him dizzy, and he realised that he couldn't handle this on his own. He was too drunk. He needed help. Embarrassed by himself and the situation he had put himself in, he took a deep breath before calling out the name of the last person on earth he wanted to see right now, "DIGGS!"

The hushed voices from the other side of the wall died down completely. They'd heard him. Still, there was no response to his cry for help. Meanwhile, the second towel around his hand was soaked through as well. What if he was about to bleed out? What if he was spending his last moments, pathetically heartbroken on his own bathroom floor?

"DIGGS!" he tried again, this time a little more panic to his voice.

The entire house was quiet still, and Rafa listened intently for few seconds before he finally heard an angry voice calling from the other side of the wall. "WHAT?"

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa called back, embarrassment flooding his voice.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Diggs bellowed back. Rafa had never heard him sound so annoyed before.

"Come on, man... I'm serious," Rafa let out a loud groan as he took in the bloody rag that was wrapped around his hand.

He heard cursing and shuffling on the other side of the wall and a few seconds later, the door to the bathroom finally swung open, revealing a very annoyed Daveed Diggs who was trying to hide away his boxer-clad erection with the palm of his hand.

Upon seeing how Diggs was already hard and ready to fuck Rafa's girl, there was no doubt: The pain in Rafa's chest definitely exceeded the pain in his hand.

Daveed

Daveed could not believe how lucky he was! He had barely closed the front door behind him before you had pulled him in for a string of sensual kisses in the dark. His lips were moving fiercely against your warm skin, your head lolling backwards as you panted and let him press you up against the wall in the hallway. He loved the sensation of your fingers tangled in his long hair as he attacked your neck and jawline with rough, affectionate kisses. You let out a small impatient pant as he untied the bow at the side of your dress, giving himself easier access to your beautiful build underneath as the dress opened up completely.

"Fuck, you look absolutely amazing," he cupped your ass and pressed his pelvis closer to you with a groan.

Your small fingers desperately undid the buttons of his shirt and Daveed quickly shrugged it off, finally standing in front of you in nothing but his dark blue slacks. His lips quickly resumed their positions on your neck where he immediately started sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin while running his hands all over your torso.

Your fingers desperately found the button of his slacks and Daveed felt the tight sensation of his pants against his crotch disappearing slightly as you brought down the zipper and slid the slacks over his hips. Your small hand was palming him through the cotton of his boxers, and he couldn't stop the groan that fought its way all the way from his stomach and up his throat. He heard you chuckling incredulously above him as you let your dress fall to the ground before you dropped down to your knees in front of him, determinedly pulling his boxers down over his thighs.

Daveed's mind went completely blank when he felt your hand cup his balls while your wet mouth found the tip of his straining erection. Your warm breath against him had him let out an involuntary groan, and when your plump lips kissed his engorged head, the sensation sent a shiver all the way up his spine. He pulled your hair away from your face and held it in a loose ponytail on the back of your head, your eyes interlocking with his in the process. Even though you had him between your teeth, the submissive look you sent him had him feeling incredibly in control! Without giving up eye contact, you kissed his head twice before placing a long, wet lick at the tip of his erection, immediately sending hard vibrations throughout his entire body. "Fuck," he groaned and caressed the side of your face when you wrapped your lips tightly around his head, sucking a bit at the tip.

"Mmmh, pull my hair!" you panted around him and he immediately tugged on the ponytail, buckling his hips closer to your face, desperate to feel the ecstasy of warm, wet, tightness around him again. To Daveed's relief you immediately obliged and slid your lips almost all the way down to his base and back up again, releasing him with a small pop.

"Oh fuck!" He let out a groan as he looked down into your huge, submissive eyes, slowly stroking your cheek. You repeated your motions, your tongue wet and soft against him as you bopped your mouth along his length, his hips meeting you half-way, "yeah, that's it, baby, just like that," he panted softly as you kept gazing up at him, upping the tempo and bringing him all the way down your throat with a slight gag, reminding him of how big he was.

Daveed had received many blowjobs over the years but never in his life had he felt more worshipped and desired! You were massaging his balls lovingly as you brought his length down your throat, hollowing your cheeks and making him feel completely taken care of as you focused solely on his pleasure and enjoyment.

He was just about to let go and cum down your tight throat before he reminded himself that he'd have to take it easy if he wanted to last long enough to fuck you. And holy shit, how he wanted to fuck you! He knew he was very good with his hips and hands and he wanted to bring you pleasures that you'd never even dared dreaming of before.

It was hard to do, but eventually he managed to pull himself out of your wet mouth and you to your feet with a gruff, "come here!". He unclasped your bra and tossed it aside before he pushed you up against the wall, took your nipple in his mouth, and ran his fingers along your lace-covered folds. You let out a soft gasp and he repeated the motions of his fingers while attacking your neck and throat with toothy kisses. You were panting and moaning underneath him, your hand still stroking his erection lovingly.

"Okay, okay, okay, you gotta stop," he licked the shell of your ear with a low chuckle, "I still have so many things I want to do to you," he smacked your ass and you let out a small whimper when his palm came in to contact with your skin.

Slowly, you let go of him and carefully caressed his abs instead as he re-claimed your lips. The kiss was deep and soft, and it made the straining sensation in Daveed's erection even more unbearable, but he was patient enough to not touch himself.

After a few minutes of intense, passionate kissing, you pulled your face away from his and looked up at him with a dark look in your eyes, "well, are you going to do something about it? Or are you going to just leave it at talking?" You chuckled against his skin.

"Don't get cocky with me," Daveed smiled and hoisted you up in his arms. You let out a small yelp, but still threw your legs around his waist and let him carry you to his bedroom while licking his ear. He carefully positioned you with your back against the mattress of his bed and hovered above you as he put his lips to your collarbone, slowly kissing his way down between your breasts, over your stomach, and stopping when he reached the top of your panties. He sat himself down on his knees in front of you, sending you a hungry look as he ran his fingers over your body. You looked him square in the eye and raked a hand through his curls, pulling his head back slightly. The anticipating look you were sending him made his erection twitch between his legs, but he still didn't touch it. Instead, he licked his lips and kissed the laces between your legs. "I love this colour on you," he growled against the thin fabric. He could feel you shiver underneath him as he pulled the red laces down your well-shaped legs, caressing your inner thighs lovingly. "Mmh," he hummed as you spread your legs for him, your fingers still tangled in his hair. Your chest was heaving up and down in a slow, steady rhythm as he placed small kisses on your skin, his tongue just barely grazing you. He enjoyed the way you closed your eyes and dipped your head low as he repeated this motion a few times.

Slowly, he slipped his tongue inside your folds, your lips gently spreading for him as he tasted you. You gasped slightly when he reached your clit and gave it a small flick before he slowly ran his tongue over you again. You were panting above him, your fingers caressing his scalp as your face was screwed up in pleasure. Daveed couldn't look away even if he wanted to!

He caressed the back of your legs with his hands before he had his fingers join his tongue at your core. Slowly, he inserted a finger into your wet heat and was rewarded with a deep moan escaping your lips. Desperate to hear you again, he inserted yet another finger, letting his digits and tongue work in unison until you finally let out another deep moan.

He could tell you were close to letting go completely, and it was all working out so nicely, your chest heaving up and down faster and faster as you moaned loudly for him, your nails finding their way to his scalp, pulling his face closer to you - when clash!

Out of nowhere, a loud shatter was heard from somewhere in the house. It sounded like glass breaking, but Daveed was used to Rafa's clumsy ass, so he ignored what he assumed was his best friend returning home after his night out.

Daveed did, however, feel you freeze slightly underneath him, and you pulled back the moan that had been just about to escape your lips and replaced it with a, "what was that?!" a slight panic to your voice.

"Relax, it's probably just Rafa," Daveed whispered and resumed his movements.

"What's he doing here?" You panted slightly but not as sensually as before.

"He lives here," Daveed growled against your skin, annoyed by the fact that your attention was suddenly directed at his best friend instead of the very pleasurable things he knew he was doing. To make sure that you forgot about Rafa, Daveed brought out the big guns and put his lips around your clit, vibrating them while his fingers worked their way in and out of you. It worked expertly, and it didn't take him long before he'd earned himself another loud moan coming from you. You looked as if you were completely lost in the sensations, he was causing you - but not for long, because suddenly a loud "OH FUCK!" from Rafa rang throughout the house. It was followed by hurried footsteps as Rafa ran to the bathroom that was located next to Daveed's personal space.

Daveed felt you shuffle underneath him as you put your weight on your elbows and closed your legs slightly, craning your neck as you looked towards the wall that Daveed's personal space shared with the bathroom. You had a concerned look in your eyes that Daveed chose to ignore. Instead, he kept going with his fingers and tongue, but you weren't moaning anymore.

"Shit! Oh fuck that hurts!" Rafa exclaimed loudly from the other side of the wall.

"Don't you think you should go check on him?" You asked quietly, your eyes still glued to the wall.

"No," Daveed said curtly, and tried to get you to lie back down again so he could continue. You didn't budge, however. You were more interested in the loud groan that was escaping Rafa. You let out a nervous laugh as you once again heard him cuss and groan from the next room.

"Ignore him," Daveed panted as he spread your legs apart again, his tongue immediately finding your core, and he was rewarded with a gasp from you. He had just started moving his fingers inside you again when he heard Rafa call his name loudly from the other side of the wall.

"DIGGS!"

Daveed froze for about a mili-second before deciding to ignore Rafa and continue moving his fingers inside you instead.

"Go talk to him," you chuckled and raked a hand through his hair, suddenly totally unaffected by his movements,

"He can wait. I'm far too busy," Daveed let his tongue run over you again, once more losing himself in your wonderful wetness.

Rafa however, pulled him back to reality by yelling out his name a second time, "DIGGS!!" causing you to slightly close your legs one more time.

"You're kidding me..." Daveed muttered under his breath as his face was forced away from your wet centre. "WHAT?" he ended up bellowing back to his best friend on the other side of the wall.

"Diggs, I need your help!" Rafa kept calling.

"I'm kind of busy in here, Rafa!" Daveed bellowed while looking into your amused eyes.

You were chuckling slightly, "he needs you. Don't you think you better...?" You sent Daveed a charming grin while nodding towards the door, "he sounds quite drunk..."

Daveed shot you a pained look.

"Go," you chuckled, "I'll still be ready for you in here when you come back. Don't worry."

"Come on man... I'm serious," Rafa bellowed through the wall.

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed groaned in an annoyed tone of voice and got up on his feet with a loud groan. He quickly located a pair of boxers and packed away his erection before storming out of the room, closing the door to his personal space shut behind him.

He found Rafa sitting up against the wall in the bathroom, his eyes swimming with alcohol. "What, bruh?!" Daveed demanded as he locked eyes with him, "what's so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"...Were you sleeping?" Rafa slurred while looking like a total fucking idiot as his drunk eyes scanned Daveed from head to toe.

"Of course I wasn't sleeping! I was in the middle of eating pussy when you ruined it!"

Rafa looked as if he was about to throw up, "...you're about to fuck her?" He slurred.

"Yes?! So make whatever you want to say quick, 'cause I got a soaking wet woman waiting for me on my bed!"

Rafa looked up at Daveed with a pained expression but kept his silence.

"I swear to god, if you don't speak up now and tell me what the hell made you call me out here, I'll kick your ass!"

Rafa sighed heavily, looking as if he was about to tell Daveed someone else's secret but eventually croaked, "I hurt myself," while holding up his left hand that was wrapped sloppily in a blood-soaked towel.

First then, did Daveed notice that there were several splodges of blood on the bathroom floor. It made him drop the attitude slightly, "Jesus fuck Rafa, what the hell did you do?" He groaned and crouched down next to him on the floor.

"I knocked down the frame in the hallway," Rafa slurred and let Daveed examine the deep cut in the palm of his hand, "cut myself on the glass."

"You did a thorough job," Daveed mumbled with a sigh as he lifted the towel to check out the gash that was still bleeding heavily, "come here, run some water on it. I'll find some bandages." Daveed turned on the faucet and helped Rafa find his balance as he quickly pulled him to his feet. He could tell that Rafa was struggling to stand still as he swayed back and forth while leaning in over the sink, playing a bit with the jet of water. Daveed sent him an annoyed glance; he did not have time for this! "How much did you have to drink after I left?" he asked, the irritation practically oozing out of him as he looked for the first-aid kit in one of the cabinets.

"I dunno," Rafa mumbled sleepily as he watched the water clean the blood away from his hand, "a lot?"

"Yeah, so I'd guessed," Daveed mumbled to himself as he located the first aid kit and quickly pulled out a couple of rolls of gauze. "Come over here," he urged Rafa to sit down on the edge of the tub next to him.

Rafa gave out a small grunt and turned off the water, before turning towards Daveed with lazy movements. Daveed had to bite his tongue to avoid telling Rafa to hurry the fuck up!

Rafa's ass had barely touched the white ceramic of the tub's edge before he lost his balance and vigorously swayed back and forth a few times, finally catching himself by throwing his hand up against the sink, leaving bloody handprints all over the bathroom in the process.

"Jesus Christ, Rafa!" Daveed groaned, he did not want to deal with Rafa's drunk ass right now, "look, I'll help you with your hand but I'm not cleaning up out here!" He said harshly.

"Then don't!" Rafa muttered as he slowly slid down to the floor with a loud groan, sending Daveed and irritated look in the process.

"Come on; give me your hand," Daveed demanded, determined to be done as fast as possible so he could get back to you.

Rafa held out his arm and Daveed rotated it to look for more injuries and noticed that Rafa had bruised his knuckles quite badly too, "...have you been in a fight?" He furrowed his brows.

"Just fix my hand, okay?!" Rafa shot Daveed an annoyed look, "Make it stop bleeding!" He slurred and gestured to the blood that was already dripping from his fingertips again.

Daveed gave out an irritated grunt as he started wrapping Rafa's bloody hand in gauze, "sit still!!"

"Oh fuck," Rafa groaned as Daveed slowly draped the gauze over the sensitive wound, "fuck it hurts."

"Quit your whining!"

There was a knock on the bathroom door and Daveed slowly looked up from Rafa's bloody hand and towards the door instead. You were poking in your head, looking curiously at what the two men were doing, your hair a big mess. "Is everything alright in here?" You asked carefully as you stepped inside, tugging on the oversized shirt you'd put on to cover up your naked body.

"Rafa cut himself - and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," Daveed rolled his eyes so Rafa couldn't see. He registered your amused smile just before he turned back to the hand in his lap, immediately noticing the small change in Rafa's flexibility as opposed to before you had stepped in. His fingers had somehow gone weirdly stiff, and by further inspection, Daveed realised that Rafa's entire body was suddenly tense, the muscles in his jaw continuously flexing and relaxing, flexing and relaxing. Still, Rafa didn't bat an eyelid, he didn't even emit a single sound. He was just silently staring at you, his eyes going up and down your front, his breathing hard and heavy. Daveed shot him a weird look out the corner of his eye. What the fuck was going on with him? He had definitely had too much to drink...

"'s that my shirt?" Rafa slurred to you as he took in your attire.

Daveed briefly looked up at you and realised that the oversized t-shirt you were wearing were indeed Rafa's favourite Raiders shirt that Daveed had borrowed the other day. Rafa had a weird look on his face, and it looked as if he was about the say something crude to you, so to diffuse the situation, Daveed spoke: "let it go, bruh," he said in an uninterested tone of voice before he quietly turned back to wrapping the bleeding hand. Why the fuck would Rafa care if you were wearing his t-shirt or not?? He didn't mind Daveed wearing it.

"Oh..." he heard you say softly from the doorframe, "Raiders... I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

"Yeah, no. Don't be," Rafa said softly and Daveed was just about to give his best friend a mental pad on the back for having enough sense to bring his attitude around so quickly, but then he added an "- it looks good on you!" in a flirty voice that vexed Daveed so much that he felt a slow anger bubble in his chest. He let go of the bleeding hand and straightened his back as he looked over at Rafa with a hard look. He could not believe that Rafa had the nerve - the audacity! - to act so disrespectfully! What the fuck had gotten into him?! He had been a huge cock-block to you and Daveed and now he found it suitable to be flirting with you???

Daveed had to take a deep breath to calm himself down, in the meantime reminding himself that Rafa was drunk as fuck and probably not even aware that his words could be misinterpreted as more than just friendly... Therefore, he purposely ignored his best friend's impudent behaviour and instead made sure to keep his eyes down low so he could concentrate fully on wrapping up the bleeding hand, determined get the fuck out of there as fast as possible so he could get back to slipping you his famous techniques.

The wound in the palm of Rafa's hand was still bleeding quite heavily, and it didn't take Daveed long to realise that he needed more gauze to make the blood stop dripping onto the floor. "Shit," he muttered under his breath and looked over at you, "baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?"

You whipped your gaze away from Rafa's face, your eyes immediately finding Daveed's. The look in your eyes instantly shifted from something that Daveed couldn't quite place to soft and cute, a small goofy smile slowly erupting on your lips as you scanned his face. You didn't say anything, just sent him a curt nod before you quietly turned to the cabinet, looking for the first-aid kit on the bottom shelf. As you bent over in front of him, your t-shirt rode up high and Daveed got a beautiful glimpse of the red laces under the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing. Your panties were hugging your ass nicely, and for a moment, he forgot about the bleeding limb in his hand - all he could think about was touching you again! He wanted to snap the useless piece of fabric between your legs in two and delve his tongue into your wet heat, bringing you untold pleasu- ...he suddenly felt Rafa's fingers do a small involuntary twitch in his lap and he realised that his best friend was checking you out too, his mouth hanging slightly open, his eyes glued to your ass.

What the fuck was the matter with him? Had the roles been reversed, Daveed would never have checked out Rafa's girl!

Angry with his best friend, Daveed gave Rafa's arm a small smack while sending him a threatening look, daring him to keep staring at your ass. When his and Rafa's eyes interlocked, Rafa's face curled up in a sour expression but he quickly fixated his gaze on the floor in front of him instead, probably realising that Daveed could knock him out easily.

Meanwhile, completely innocent and oblivious to what had just happened behind your back, you stood up straight and handed Daveed two extra rolls of gauze before resuming your position in the doorway.

Apparently, Rafa had learnt absolutely nothing from Daveed's silent threats and immediately went back to staring at you again. Daveed contemplated shooting Rafa a verbal threat as well but decided against it when he realised how absolutely pathetic his best friend looked. He was drunk as fuck, his eyes all foggy and glossy. Daveed would confront him about his disrespectful behaviour tomorrow.

Still, the fact that Rafa was staring intensely at you while you were only wearing the slightly oversized t-shirt and your beautiful, beautiful panties underneath, made Daveed uncomfortable as fuck, so he worked double speed on Rafa's hand to get you away from the bathroom faster.  Luckily, with the fresh supply of gauze from you, it only took him a few more minutes before he was done with the wrapping, a sigh of relief travelling through his body as he finally let go of Rafa's injured hand.

The tension in the bathroom could be cut with a knife and Daveed took a deep breath to calm himself down before breaking the silence by saying, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

"Mmh," Rafa grunted beside him, clearly not pleased with the situation. His eyes were glued to you, and he was wearing a certain hungry look on his face as he drank you in - and Daveed realised that Rafa definitely was aware of what signals he was sending.

What the hell was going on inside his pea-sized, idiot brain? Did he want Daveed to punch him? Daveed was just about to grab him by the collar when he heard you piping from the doorframe, "...I can take you."

...what? Daveed immediately turned his attention to you and saw the soft look you were sending Rafa as you continued, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

What?! You liked Rafas stares?!

"You'd - you'd do that?" he heard Rafa whisper from beside him, a soft smile erupting on his best friend's lips.

Daveed didn't like it. He thought to himself that it looked as if the two of you had developed a secret language in the time it had taken him to wrap Rafa's hand. What the hell had he missed out on?

"Of course," you nodded slowly, your eyes still interlocking with Rafa's, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Rafa whispered, a hopeful look on his face, "thanks."

What the fuck was going on between you two?

Daveed watched you send Rafa a small smile, your face flushed. The sexual tension was thick between the two of you, and Daveed felt the jealousy burn in his chest as neither of you were looking away from the other. How the fuck dare Rafa flirt with the girl that he had brought home?! How dare he send you those hungry looks?! It was itching in Daveed's hands to do something about the long, continuous gaze between you and in his frustration, he curled his fingers and accidentally pressed on Rafa's wound, making him hiss in pain as he shot back an angry look. Daveed was far too busy looking over at you, however. You finally had your attention directed at him - and not Rafa - your eyes huge and doe-like, looking as if you'd just woken up from a trance. He shot you a look as if to say 'what the fuck is going on?' and you gulped guiltily.

Suddenly realising that he finally had the full attention of both you and Rafa, Daveed spoke up in a voice that was much more strained than he had intended, "Nope! Not gonna happen! Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way," he shot his best friend a hard look, "Rafa you can take a cab!" he turned his attention back to you, "Baby go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

He noticed your eyes skating between his own face and Rafa's and he sternly let out a "he'll take the cab, okay!" He didn't like the way you were looking at each other, and he still very much intended on fucking you tonight no matter how big of a cock-block Rafa was being!

He was trying to catch your eye, but you had your gaze firmly placed on Rafa again, seemingly unable to look away. Daveed noticed how you let out a small gulp as Rafa shot you a careful nod as if giving you permission to leave.

What the hell was going on????

He also noticed the long glance the two of you shared before you gently closed the door behind you as you exited the bathroom.

What! The! Fuck!

Daveed felt his chest bubbling over. He had never felt this way towards Rafa before, but his best friend had never looked more punchable! Automatically, his fingers once more pressed in hard on Rafa's wound.

"Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

"What the fuck was that all about?" Daveed spat, "you're flirting with my girl!"

"She's not your girl just because you brought her home for one night, Diggs!" Rafa hissed angrily through gritted teeth.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Daveed felt as if his eyes were bulging out of his skull, "She's crazy about me! You should've seen the way she was begging for it at the bar!"

"Yeah, I saw everything," Rafa said slowly with anger in his eyes, a low growl to his voice as he drunkenly staggered to his feet, "I saw exactly how you swooped in and thought you could erase eight years of history between me and her!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Daveed hissed before his voice turned to frustrated yelling, "Rafa, you have no history with her!" he too stood up, so they were eye to eye, "you made out with her once eight years ago and now no one else is allowed to touch her?! If you wanted a shot with her, you should have done something ages ago!"

"I did do something ages ago! I kissed her!"

"Yeah! And then you had eight years of nothing! You didn't even talk to her! How the fuck was I supposed to know that you wanted to kiss her again???"

"You could have asked me!" Rafa yelled frustratedly.

"I could have asked you?! Come on, man!! You're thirty-three years old for fucks sake! If you wanted something to happen with her, you should've engaged yourself!"

"I was planning on doing so tonight!" Rafa hissed angrily, "and she would've said yes if it hadn't been for you!"

"No she wouldn't!" Daveed was minutes away from pulling out his own hair. How could Rafa be so thick?! "Don't you think that something would've happened by now if you both wanted it so badly?"

"Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" Rafa yelled angrily, sending Daveed a hard look.

Daveed let out a low growl, "yeah, meanwhile I was minutes away from actually fucking her! If she really wanted you, don't you think she would've given you more signals than a few pitiful looks because you're drunk and hurt? She doesn't want you, man!!"

"Fuck you!!!" Rafa spat angrily and shoved Daveed in the chest causing him to stagger backwards as he was pushed out of balance.

"What the fuck's the matter with you!" Daveed spat as he took a step closer to Rafa, balling up his fists and sending him a threatening look, "you really want me to beat you up?"

"Do whatever the fuck you want with me as long as you stay away from her!" Rafa yelled and gave Daveed another hard shove in the chest. His eyes were bloodshot and Daveed had never seen him this angry before.

"What the fuck's gone into you?" He yelled louder than before, "she clearly doesn't want you! Why can't you just let her go?!"

"Because I'm in love with her!" Rafa yelled loudly, spit flying everywhere. His eyes were huge and aggressive.

Daveed took a step backwards and stared at his panting best friend as his angry words sank in. Rafa's nostrils were flared, and it looked as if he was about to punch Daveed in the face.

...Rafa was in love with you? Daveed could punch himself! Why hadn't he seen it before? Of course Rafa was in love with you... He took a deep breath to calm himself down before he quietly spoke: "Yes - well I'm crazy about her too..."

Rafa was still panting heavily, his nostrils still flared as he shot Daveed a hard look - but he didn't say anything.

They had feelings for the same girl... Daveed frustratedly pinched the bridge of his nose as the realisation sank in; a girl had come between them. How high school... "Shit," he said quietly, "what do we do now?"

Rafa shot him a dark look and answered immediately: "you back down!" he said harshly but not as aggressively as before.

"I'm not going to back down, Rafa," Daveed answered him quietly. He full-on intended on making you his no matter what Rafa's feelings were.

"I've been in love with her for eight years!" Rafa spat angrily but he had stopped yelling, "You have for eight minutes! Don't you think it's more fair that you let me have a shot?!"

Daveed was getting more and more frustrated by the second but was happy that Rafa had chosen to use those exact words: "Exactly Rafa! You had eight years! You sat on your hands for eight years and you expect her to come running to you now? You expect me to let you have a shot? You've had millions of opportunities to do something!"

Rafa's face was still wild but his tone of voice was quiet and determined: "you saw the look she just sent me!" he said darkly.

Daveed had to give it to him; the way you'd been staring at Rafa had confused him too: "Listen, I don't know what the fuck that was, but if she had any feelings for you at all, why would she go home with me?" He said quietly, "why would she take off her clothes for me and not you?"

Rafa shook his head back and forth as if refusing to believe the argument, "No..." he croaked, "please don't say it like that, man..."

"Bruh..." Daveed sighed, "I'm sorry it is this way, but I don't know what else to tell you." He felt bad for Rafa but he wasn't going to back down. No chance.

"Please don't fuck her," Rafa pleaded quietly. His heart obviously broken.

"You know I'm not going to guarantee you that..."

"Just... Let me talk to her first."

"What do you expect to gain from that?"

"She wants to talk to me too..."

"Maybe - but it won't go your way. She's lying naked in my bed right now! She made her decision, bruh."

Rafa looked pained. He was clutching his chest with his eyes screwed shut, a small tear rolling down his cheek, "fuck!" he quietly worded before he fell to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up.

You

"I'm going to murder him for this!" Daveed pulled himself away from you and on to his feet, desperately looking around the room for something to wear. He finally pulled out a pair of clean boxers from his closet, pulled them on, and hurried out of the bedroom to see what was going on with Rafa. He had sounded very drunk and even though you had been slightly amused by his constant swearing throughout the house, the sound of glass smashing combined with his drunk cries for help, had also left you a bit nervous that something serious might've happened to him. What if he had cut himself badly and Daveed couldn't handle it alone? Rafa was your friend too after all. You had to make sure everything was all right with him.

Quickly, you jumped from Daveed's bed, pulled on your panties, and looked around the room for something to wear that could cover your body as your own dress had been discarded during the make-out session in the hallway. You quickly located a black t-shirt that was casually thrown over a chair in the corner of the room and pulled it over your head, grateful that it covered you all the way down to the top of your thighs. Ready to leave Daveed's bedroom, and with your hand already on the doorknob, you took a brief look at yourself in the mirror to make sure you were decent. You tried padding down your messy sex-hair but the sound of Rafa hissing in pain from the other room had you abandon any thought of trying to fix your looks - Rafa's injuries seemed much more urgent. Forcing your eyes away from your own reflection, you opened the door to the hallway instead and listened for their voices.

"Just fix my hand, okay?! Make it stop bleeding!" you heard Rafa slur from the room next door. He was clearly very drunk.

"Sit still!!" Daveed growled.

It sounded as if they had the situation under control and you were just about to go back to Daveed's bed and wait for him there when you heard Rafa exclaim, "Oh fuck! Fuck it hurts!"

It made you do a U-turn on your heel and you decided to check in on the two men to see if they were in need of any extra help. Softly, you knocked on the door but didn't listen for an answer as you immediately poked in your head and took in the scene in the small bathroom: the two men were sitting next to each other; Daveed on the edge of the bathtub with Rafa's bloody hand in his lap while Rafa was splayed on the floor looking very drunk. Both of them were looking directly up at you with equally soft expressions on their faces. Daveed's eyes were loving as he silently apologised for having to help his best friend clean up. Rafa, on the other hand, was staring up at you with a sorrowful look on his pale face, his eyes huge and red-rimmed, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down in his throat as he gulped hard.

The tension between them was thick, the air cold. Both of them clearly equally annoyed with the other.

"Is everything alright in here?" You asked quietly as you pushed open the door and stepped inside, tugging on your t-shirt to prevent it from riding up.

"Rafa cut himself..." Daveed rolled his eyes so only you could see before he continued, "- and apparently he's too drunk to handle it alone," he shot Rafa an annoyed sideway-glance before he turned his attention to the gauze and Rafa's blood-covered hand in his lap.

You watched Rafa send Daveed an equally irritated glance, looking as if he was biting his tongue to keep himself from retorting something nasty. He had probably already realised that he needed Daveed's help to get the wound to stop bleeding and that he wouldn't get it by being crass. So instead, Rafa silently let Daveed wrap his hand as his eyes slowly found yours, his expression immediately changing from annoyed to soft.

You sent him a small reassuring smile and a goofy expression emerged on his drunk face when he happily reciprocated it. You let out a small laugh at his expression and he blinked a few times, looking as if he was saving the sound on his mental hard drive. His foggy eyes were softly gazing up at you with a soulful look, and he looked drunk but cute as he took you in, a weird undertone in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. It was a look that you recognised from somewhere, but not from him - from someone else. You scanned his face one more time, raking your brain to find out from where you knew the gaze, he was sending you, but it wasn't immediately clear. Suddenly however, you realised that it was the same look that Daveed had sent you several times over the last couple of weeks. It was a look of longing.

Softly, you cocked your head at him, and he sent you a small, sad smile in return, his green eyes kindly taking in your face before they travelled down your body, ultimately landing on your chest. You immediately folded your arms, and he looked back up into your eyes, your eyebrows now arched in an unimpressed manner, silently tell him that he'd been caught staring red-handed. His face screwed up in a painful expression and he paled a bit before he quietly slurred, "'s that my shirt?".

Unaware of what he was talking about, you looked towards the mirror above the sink on the opposite side of the bathroom wall, and when you caught your own reflection, you realised that he hadn't been staring at your chest. He'd been staring at the logo on the t-shirt. The Raiders logo - his football team. You weren't wearing Daveed's shirt. You were wearing Rafa's.

You'd seen him in it multiple times - hell, he'd even worn it the night you'd kissed on top of the skate ramps. You remembered because every so often your mind wandered back to that night. Played it on repeat. Rafa's hand on your thigh as Stevie Nicks' voice rang in the background. Your tongues intertwining. The stubble on his chin soft between your fingertips. The scent of his warm cologne. The thought of your passionate kiss that summer night eight years ago was enough to make a warm feeling appear in your stomach.

Still looking at yourself in the mirror, you let your arms drop to the side and took in your own reflection. The t-shirt was a few sizes too big for you and it covered you like a short dress, just barely reaching below the red panties you were wearing underneath. The Raiders logo took up most of the front of the shirt and the logo curved nicely along your breasts and waistline, making the oversized men's shirt actually look as if it'd been tailored to you. You liked this look. You actually looked good in Rafa's t-shirt.

From far away you heard Daveed's voice, "let it go, bruh," and it pulled you back to reality.

"Oh... Raiders..." you said quietly, unable to pry your eyes away from the way the t-shirt was hugging your curves. No wonder Rafa was staring at you. You had gone home with his roomie, yet you'd put on his shirt - and you even looked good in it. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise," you croaked.

Rafa was looking as if he was thinking about the same thing as you, and for a second you were afraid that he might get angry about the fact that Daveed's flirt was wearing his beloved Raiders t-shirt, but he just softly said, "yeah, no. Don't be. It looks good on you..."

You didn't react to his words but merely stared at yourself in the mirror as the memories of your Tacos Locos summer once more flooded your mind - and you slowly felt a dull ache in your chest when you looked back at Rafa's pained expression and realised that maybe there was a reason for his look of longing, his quiet, pained reaction to seeing you half-naked in his shirt when you'd gone home with his best friend. He probably wasn't as cool with you and Daveed as Daveed had let on. Maybe your suspicion about why Rafa had invited you to join his production was right after all...

Oh no.

The thought of kissing Rafa again had grazed your mind several times in the period of time between his phone call offering you the job, and your first day on set where you'd been introduced to his best friend for the first time. Daveed, however, had immediately pushed every sensual thought of Rafa out of your head and had instead replaced them with unholy thoughts about himself. The sexual attraction that you had felt towards Daveed for the past month was insane and you were definitely crazy about him! ...Still, you wondered if he was the type of man, you'd still fantasise about eight years after having shared a passionate kiss in the dark. The same way you so often had found yourself fantasising about Rafa.

...had you just made a huge mistake?

Rafa's cheeks paled considerably as his gaze constantly shifted between your face and the Raiders logo. He was clearly affected by the fact that you were wearing his shirt and nothing else, and it looked as if he was having a hard time sitting still. The tender yet hurtful look he sent you made you feel horrible about yourself and all the decisions that had led to this exact moment. What if things had been different back in the taco truck eight years ago? What if he had actually taken you home after one of your late nights out? And what if Daveed hadn't been so persistent in hooking up with you over the last couple of weeks? If he hadn't been so smooth and charming, would he still have been able to swoop in right before Rafa? Or would you eventually have gone home with Rafa instead?

Would it feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight?

Oh no...

"Shit!" Daveed's voice brought you back from your panicky train of thought. You looked over at him, his face sweet and innocent as he was helping his best friend recover, and you realised: no, it wouldn't feel more right to be sleeping in Rafa's bed tonight. But it would feel just as right as sleeping in Daveed's.

"Baby, can you get me more gauze out of the cabinet?" he continued.

Baby. It had slipped out of him. He hadn't even realised it... The caring, handsome man in front of you had called you baby and you couldn't help but send him a small smile as it had made you soft. You were baby to him.

Rafa had a reaction to the pet name too: he looked as if he was about to murder Daveed.

Desperately trying to untangle yourself from the situation you had put yourself in, you turned over to the cabinets and pulled out more gauze, promptly handing it over to Daveed before resuming your position in the doorframe.

Immediately, you and Rafa went back to staring at each other again, both unable to look away. The looks he was sending you were deep and longing, his eyes pained as he grew more and more tense with each passing second. He looked as if he wanted to touch you, to kiss you, to hold you tight. Shit.

Your eyes were flickering fast between the two men: both of them sweet and handsome. Both of them crazy about you. You couldn't decide whether or not you had made a mistake by choosing to go home with Daveed tonight.

Daveed broke the tension in the small bathroom when he in an irritated tone of voice said, "Look, I can bandage this to keep it from bleeding all over, but you need to go to the hospital for stitches or something."

Rafa let out a small grunt without looking away from you. It looked as if he wanted to tell you something but was unable to with Daveed being present. It was heart-breaking.

You liked Daveed very much but realised that you had to talk to Rafa as well. You had to hear what he had to say, "...I can take you," you piped up in a voice that was weirdly nervous, "I can drive. I almost didn't drink tonight."

"You'd - you'd do that?" Rafa said in a whisper and sent you a warm look.

"Of course," you nodded slowly, suddenly desperate to talk to him, to hear his thoughts, "Let me just grab some pants, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," Rafa said quietly, his pained expression now completely replaced by a hopeful one.

Daveed had definitely noticed that something was going on with you because the annoyance was practically seeping out of him though he was trying his best to keep calm. He did something to Rafa's hand that had Rafa hissing in pain and shooting Daveed an angry look with his lips pressed together in a thin, white line.

Your eyes whipped over to Daveed as well. He was sending you a hurt look that said 'what the fuck are you doing?' and you gulped guiltily. Had he realised that you were unsure about what to do with the two men in front of you?

"Nope!" Daveed said loudly, shaking his head vigorously, "Not gonna happen. Uh-uh, absolutely no fucking way. Rafa you can take a cab!" he shot Rafa a hard look before he turned back to you, his eyes soft, but his voice full of irritation, "Baby, go back to bed, I'll be there in a second!"

There it was again. Baby. You looked into Daveed's soft brown eyes that were looking pleadingly back at you, your knees immediately weak. Slowly, you let your gaze wander a bit to the left and met Rafa's huge green eyes too. They also made you feel incredibly soft.

Daveed noticed your gaze drifting over to Rafa and harshly interjected, "he'll take a cab, okay!"

Rafa sent you a slight nod as if to say that it was alright for you to leave, and that he could handle Daveed and his bleeding hand on his own. Meanwhile Daveed was staring at his best friend with a murderous look in his eyes. You realised that they had to resolve some stuff too, so even though it hurt in your chest, you slowly turned away from the two men, and walked back to Daveed's bedroom. Just before the door to the bathroom closed behind you, you heard the beginning of an argument between the two friends: "Ah! Dude what the fuck!" Rafa yelped loudly.

To which Daveed angrily responded with a "What the fuck was that all about? You're flirting with my girl!" It was more a statement than a question.

You sat awkwardly on Daveed's bed, unsure of what to do now. Daveed had noticed the long looks between you and Rafa. Shit. Even though you hadn't intended it, you had still managed to turn them against each other.

You could hear their angry voices from the other side of the wall, but you didn't want to listen in on their private conversation, so you put your fingers in your ears. Their shouted words were not meant for you. It was a desperate conversation between two best friends, and even though you could've easily followed their screaming match, it didn't seem right to do so. Desperately, you pressed in on your ear canal and started humming softly to tune out most of their angry words. Still, snippets of their loud conversation penetrated your ears.

"Rafa, you have no history with her!" Daveed was yelling before Rafa's voice was heard a few seconds later: "Did you not see how she was eye-fucking me just now?" followed a little while later by a loud "Fuck you!" from Rafa and an angry "you really want me to beat you up?" from Daveed. They kept yelling loudly at each other, but you tried not to decipher their angry words as you found them private. There was a reason why they had sent you out of the bathroom after all.

After a few minutes, their angry yells finally died down completely and were instead replaced by muffled words in normal voices that you couldn't make out even if you tried. You slowly removed your fingers from your ears, instead burying your face in your hands, angry with yourself for having let it come to this.

Their muffled voices could be heard for a few seconds before the sound was disrupted by someone retching.

One of them was throwing up, the other completely silent. You listened intently for a few seconds to see if you could make out who was throwing up, hoping that the other would say some words of comfort, but neither of them spoke, and after about a minute of silence, you heard footsteps approaching the room you were lying in. The doorknob twisted and Daveed entered the room slowly, his eyes full of pain as he took you in. He sat down on the bed next to you, panting hard, obviously very upset about the entire situation. It hurt seeing him like this. And it hurt thinking about Rafa lying alone in the bathroom. You dried an annoying tear away from your cheek and just barely managed to reset your face before Daveed looked up at you with a sad smile. You did your best to look casual as if you hadn't got the faintest idea of what their screaming match had been about. You acted as if wearing Rafa's shirt meant nothing. Seeing his pained expression had done nothing. Hearing him sob in the bathroom made you feel no ways.

"Everything okay?" You asked Daveed carefully.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"How about Rafa?" you said quietly. Even the sound of his name hurt in your chest.

"He's..." Daveed's words died in his throat as he frustratedly buried his face in his hands with a deep sigh.

You gulped, "is he okay alone out there?"

"Can we please not talk about Rafa right now?" he said slowly.

"Yeah..." you nodded quietly, "come here," you folded your arms around his chest, hugging him tight. He pulled you on top of him and hugged you back, his strong arms squeezing you, bringing you comfort as if he knew what you were going through as well. You sat like this for a few seconds, your arms wrapped tightly around each other comforting the broken feeling you both felt in your chests until his lips slowly found their way to your neck, leaving sweet, sensual kisses to the side of your throat.

"Look," you said quietly, pulling yourself away from him and looking into his chocolate brown eyes, "it's not that I don't enjoy this, but I just think it's for the best if I go home."

"What? No?" Daveed looked up at you with a pained expression, "come on, we can't let Rafa ruin our night," he groaned and moved closer to you but suddenly paused, "unless you don't want to of course. I don't want to force you into anything," he looked carefully at you and you understood why. He wanted to make sure that you were comfortable with the decision you were making. Comfortable with him.

It made you realise that the fact that you were lying in Daveed's bedroom half-naked, meant that you had made your choice long ago. You needed to stick with it.

"Yeah, okay," you said and moved your lips close to his, kissing him softly.

"You have no idea how happy that makes me," he groaned against your lips and you felt him breathe a sigh of relief as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He quickly pulled Rafa's t-shirt over your head, and harshly threw it onto the ground next to the bed. You couldn't help but think of the symbolics in his heated gesture.

His warm hands immediately found your breasts and he started running his fingers over your nipples with a low growl. You enjoyed the confident, hungry look he sent you as you were once again bare-chested in front of him. He moved his face closer to yours, "I still fully intent on making you feel good and make you let loose a little," he repeated his words from earlier that evening with a smile and carefully pushed you down on the bed, a warm shiver travelling up your spine with his words and movements. He hovered above you before his lips started pressing small, peppered kisses to the side of your throat, his one hand running down your stomach and dipping down between your legs, making you gasp softly. His lips moved over your collarbone and down between the valley of your breasts, taking one of your nipples in his mouth, and making you arch your back against him, as you felt his erection pressed up between your legs. He groaned as he pushed his boxer-clad erection closer to you, looking down at you with an erotic spark in his eye. Your fingers found his soft hair and you raked a hand through his curls and reciprocated the look he was sending you; dark and sensual.

You were both getting lost in the sensations you were causing each other when you were interrupted by the sound of Rafa retching and his heart-breaking sobs from the next room. It made your stomach ache horribly and you interrupted the kiss with Daveed, looking towards the wall to the bathroom instead. "I'm sorry, I can't just leave him alone with that..."

"What? You're not serious?" He looked at you with a disappointed look on his face.

"Listen to him," you said softly, as Rafa let out another heartbroken sob.

"He'll be fine," Daveed responded harshly before he resumed kissing your throat.

You pulled your face away from him, raking a hand through his hair one more time, "he's your best friend. Do you really want him to be alone right now? He sounds so heartbroken."

"Trust me - you do not want to deal with him right now."

Rafa retched loudly.

"I'm sorry," you kissed Daveed briefly, "but I have to make sure he's okay. I'll be back in a second."

Daveed let out an irritated grunt but eventually let go of you so you could crawl down from his lap. You quickly found the Raiders t-shirt on the floor and pulled it over your head, exiting the bedroom in a swift motion.

You knocked quietly on the door to the bathroom and found Rafa lying on the floor next to the toilet sobbing quietly. "Rafa, honey, are you okay?" you said softly as you sat down next to him and carefully put your hand on his chest.

He took a deep breath and looked up at you with wet eyes. The gaze he sent you was bloodshot, but he wasn't as pale as before. Throwing up some of the alcohol had definitely done him some good. "Hey," he whispered in a raspy voice as he put his good hand on top of yours, closing his eyes again taking three deep breaths. You noticed that he didn't answer your question.

As you pulled your hand away from his chest to fix him a glass of water, he groaned at the lack of touch and sat up straight, sleepily resting his head on the edge of the tub, looking at you with tired, sad eyes.

"Are you done throwing up?" you asked him as you handed him the glass.

He took a big gulp and nodded "I think so... Listen, can we talk?"

You sent him a small smile, "tomorrow, okay?" you didn't want to cause him anymore heartbreak tonight, "let's get you to bed," you held out your hand.

"Yeah, okay..." he took your hand and let you pull him to his feet. He was still very drunk, so you had to help him with his balance, your arm tightly wrapped around his waist, "come here," you chuckled and walked him to his room with his arm draped over your shoulder. As soon as you entered his personal space, he threw himself down on the bed with a loud groan.

"You're not going to disrobe?" you chuckled at him.

"Yeah, no... I don't care right now," he said and closed his eyes, "I just want to sleep... Let this absolute shit night be over."

You guiltily shook your head and forcefully pulled off his Chelsea boots and socks.

"Are you trying to get me naked?" He joked sleepily from the bed; his eyes closed.

"I'm trying to get you comfortable," you chuckled, "you have to take off your shirt and pants yourself."

Rafa groaned but sat up straight before he pulled his shirt over his head. His eyes were still closed, and his long hair was falling in unruly strands around his face. He looked exhausted as he undid the button on his pants and slid them off himself, plumping down on the bed afterwards.

"You don't think I'll bleed to death, do you?" he groaned and lifted his bandaged hand a little.

"I'm absolutely positive you won't," you chuckled at him, "if it's still bleeding tomorrow, I'll take you to the hospital, okay?"

"Okay, can't wait," he smiled sleepily and gave out a quiet snore as if he'd briefly fallen asleep. He was lying flat on his back which gave you time to study the tattoos he had on his chest and forearms. Some of them you didn't like, others were beautiful. He had one on his pec that you'd never seen before.

"If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," you read out loud, looking at his chest.

Even though Rafa had his eyes closed and looked as if he was just about to fall asleep again, he knew what you were talking about and softly tapped the tattoo he had on his pec, "that's right," he slurred with a small smile. For the first time since he'd cut himself, he looked as if he was peaceful, and you tugged one of his long strands of blonde hair away from his eyes and behind his ear instead. Your fingers lingered on his cheek for a second and he kissed your palm with a small hum, "that means that I have to make you conscious of the things you don't see," he whispered before he drifted off completely.

"Alright Rafa," you chuckled quietly as you ran your fingers through his soft hair. He had started breathing heavily, already fast asleep, "thanks for explaining the words of your tattoo with the exact same words!" You got up from the bed and quietly closed the door behind you as you walked out into the hallway.

You'd only walked a few steps towards Daveed's room when the meaning behind Rafa's sentence hit you and you froze in place. Inside your head, the written words of the tattoo and Rafa's whispered words played on repeat. He hadn't explained the tattoo to you. He had told you that he loved you.

He loved you. Rafa was in love with you.

And you were walking towards the bedroom of his best friend. You turned your head slightly, looking towards Rafa's room. Should you go back to him? Or continue to Daveed? You were completely frozen in time, desperately looking between the two bedroom doors on either side of the bathroom in the hallway, realising that even though you might have been lying naked in Daveed's arms only minutes before, Rafa's words hurt so much in your chest that your decision-making was far from over.

Rafa's room was to the left. He had just confessed his feelings for you. Or, he didn't just have feelings for you; he was in love with you. Probably had been since your summer together in the taco truck. You wouldn't say that you were in love with him, but there was definitely raw, heated attraction towards him on your part as well, or you wouldn't still be thinking about your drunk kiss in the dark eight years ago, the way he was always able to make you laugh, his soft, green eyes. It hurt in your chest to think about how you'd potentially wasted eight years without him by your side. If you went to him, you'd either finally be able to stop thinking of him as 'the one who got away' and actually engage in something romantic with him - or you'd see that eight years of absence might have grown the heart so fond that you had put him on a pedestal that he couldn't live up to.

Daveed's room was to the right. He was waiting for you in there, probably ready to fuck you so good that you wouldn't be able to remember your own name. The preview he'd given you earlier tonight had definitely shown you that he was able to bring all your sexual fantasies to life! And you had craved his touch for so long, to feel his strong hands on your body as he slid into you while whispering sweet words in your ear. You and him definitely had some insane potential - not to mention the fact that he was already calling you baby! He was so crazy about you that you were baby to him! - but did you feel the same emotional attraction to him? Or was the warm feeling in your stomach whenever you looked at him all due to sexual attraction? Could you and he ever become more than raw passion?

No matter what, you'd have to choose between them. You couldn't have both. With whomever you chose, you'd never be able to have the other.

Carefully, you weighed both your options; left or right? Rafa or Daveed?

You started at both of their doors, unsure about where to go, but eventually made a decision. With a deep breath, you stepped closer to the wooden door, grabbed door handle and stepped inside, softly closing the door behind you as you took in the handsome man on the bed.

Tagging: @exrthangel @theatrenerd86 @lonelydance @ohsoverykeri @summerofsnowflakes @ramp-it-up @alexander-hamilhoe @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @riiyy @mysearchforgratification @janthony-stan @sillyteecup @biafbunny @einfachniemand @cashskid @namelesslosers @simpinforu​ @diggsbeatriz​ (Imma keep tagging you unless you say something lol).

....No spoilers in the comments please :-) 

#rafael casal x reader #rafael casal #daveed diggs #blindspotting #battle of the bay boys #rafael casal imagine #rafael casal fanfiction #bay boys #they gon fight #sorry rafa #sorry diggs #sorry reader

[the-writing-mobster]

@fransweek The prompt was flirt! Here's an excerpt from my Mafiafell story still in the works.

”The House Painter “excerpt:

Hungover. That was how she felt. She hadn't completely scrubbed away the mascara now staining her face. 

She rubbed her eyes and sighed. She needed a coffee… and there was no way she was going to make it herself. Walking to the little diner at the end of the block would be a nice breath of fresh air. She lived far away from the burlesque theater. No one would recognize her. Hopefully no men would grab her. 

Pulling on a loose, coral, drop waist dress and hiding her dark, unkempt bob with a cap to match, she was out the door. 

She hoped no one would bother her. Not with her stained face and red, puffy cheeks. She couldn't even remember crying herself to sleep, but she was increasingly aware that she must've done just that. It's a fact, Frisky. You're pathetic. 

Frisk left her small, modest apartment. A group of little girls were playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. She smiled, a skip to her step. She remembered hopscotch. The innocent memory lifted her spirits a little. 

The diner bell rang and she hummed along. She felt real in that little diner. No stage makeup. No glittery plastic diamonds covering her exposed body. No rowdy men. No. Here, there was just Annie, Bob, and the old men who liked to tell war stories and proverbs. She liked it at the diner. 

She froze. 

There was a new presence. There was a new person in the diner. No. That wasn't a person. Not in the way she knew it. 

She blinked. Tall, at least six feet and eleven inches. Wide… not fat, but he had a girth to him unseen in human men. Muscular… a black button up rolled up to this man's forearms. Revealing bone. His head was a skull. There was a shadow of something dangerous hanging onto him. 

Frisk shot fervent glances around the diner as she edged herself inside. She couldn't believe it. A monster. An actual monster. 

Now, she had lived in Ebbot for a long time. She may have been an immigrant, but Ebbot had become her city. Her dirty little city filled with all her broken dreams. However, in her long time in Ebbot City, a city known for monsters… she had only ever seen one or two, from far away. Never… never up close and personal.

She was shaking. Was she shaking? Oh God she was shaking. She began to second guess her visit to the diner. Maybe she would go back to her apartment and make herself coffee. Her eyes darted back to the door, then back to the monster. You've come this far… how rude would it be if you just walked in, saw a monster, and walked out? You're better than that.  

Frisk swallowed her resolve and sat far away, in the corner of the bar. She spared a curious look at him from under her thick lashes. She quickly looked away when his red eyelights slid over to meet her gaze. Oh God I hope he didn't see me starin'... 

How long had he been there? 

“Hey! I don't remember lettin' monsters in my diner,” barked the owner, Bob. Frisk startled at the gruff greeting… hardly a greeting. The monster glared across at him. 

“Oh. How silly of me. I didn't see a sign… Thought there were finally some sensible folk… guess I was wrong,” he growled. Frisk glanced at him, then at the window. No sign. No sign barring black people, or monsters. It was a clean window. It was why Frisk liked this diner. 

She glanced back at Bob and she frowned. The man might have been a scary sight but… she began to think of her own experiences. How would she feel if she was treated with disdain because of her work? If people found out… Her soul burst with empathy, a red glow showing through her dress and she shot up. 

“Wait! No, no… no, Bob no. He's right. There wasn't a sign,” she argued. The skeleton shot her a look, his eyes widening a bit. Bob also sent a warning look at her, but it only made her soul glow a bit brighter. 

“We have the right to refuse service to—”

“—I want him here, hm? What about that? I'll never eat here again if you do this, and you know how well I tip,” she threatened. The monster seemed to shrink the more they argued, sending fervent looks at her. Confused looks. Shocked looks… grateful looks. 

The monster watched her. Watched her as she leaned against the counter and spoke sweetly, firmly, eyelashes batting, hips swaying like some kind of siren. He didn't even know if it was intentional… He definitely wasn't complaining. He glanced up at the owner and grinned when he saw the flustered look on his face. 

“Fine Frisk… only for you… Dammit… You better not scare away any of my customers!” spat Bob as he went back to the kitchen. The skeleton narrowed his eye sockets as he watched him leave. Ass. 

Frisk gave a small sigh and sat back down, going back to reading the menu, covering her face and trying not to dart cautious looks at the monster. He was still terrifying… and he was a man… what if he took her act of kindness as a ticket to harass her? That had happened to her plenty of times. 

A silence enveloped the diner. She couldn't help but glance at him and every time she did, she could see him innocently lift his head and eyes. He didn't talk to her. A part of her was silently grateful. 

She had her coffee. He had a slice of pie. She tried not to watch him eat it with fascination. This was by far the most interesting thing to ever happen to her… and that was saying something. 

She wrestled herself away from the counter to use the ladies room, a part of her a little worried he would be gone by the time she came back. She stopped herself. Stupid. Yet, she couldn't stop herself from shooting another hidden look at him before she left. A blush spread across her face when he winked. Fuck!

After washing her hands, she composed herself enough not to race out to make sure he hadn't slipped away. Sure enough, he was still there, tapping his skeletal fingers on the countertop. 

She glanced down as she took her seat to see a folded napkin. That wasn't there before. Frisk tried to be as discreet as possible as she unfolded the napkin. She could almost feel the skeleton's gaze shifting on and off of her. Almost feel that skull grin widen. 

“Pie thank you for doing that. I hope this isn't too corny, but I crust anyone with your kind of integrity to like bad jokes. Anyway, name's Sans, Sans the skeleton.” 

Frisk snorted with laughter and immediately hid her mouth with the palm of her hand. She didn't dare look at him. That's really sweet… 

She tried to hide her smile as she grabbed a pen and slowly began to think up a good response. 

Sans the Skeleton watched her with gentle curiosity as she wrote back to him. This was just too cute. He didn't deserve this at all. Why was she being so nice? Why did he write a note on a napkin for fuck's sake? He felt like an idiot… but that little hidden laugh? He didn't know her name but he was starting to believe in love at first sight. 

She glanced up with a blush and tried to act as aloof as possible as she scooted over one seat closer to him and slid the napkin to him. She quickly recoiled back to her seat as if he'd bite and he didn't blame her one bit. 

His mouth was full of sharp fangs, he was big, monstrous and smelled like smoke. Not cigar smoke either. Fire. He'd sit far away from him too. 

Slowly, he opened the napkin and tried to fight the grin growing on his face. 

“It's slice to meet you, Sans.”  

Sans snickered at her little joke. That was good… it was rare to find such a kindred spirit in the marketplace of humor. He spared another hidden look at her. He was starting to grow fond of the Sunlight district… 

The napkin was running out of room on the side he'd been using. He flipped it over and clicked his pen, tried not to notice the excited shift of her cute, little body as he did so. He also tried to ignore the ugly looks being sent their way, but that was something he was a bit more hyper aware of. It took everything in him not to snarl at them to fuck off into oblivion. 

Frisk was inwardly squealing with delight as he flicked the napkin to her. It took everything in her to keep composed as she coyly sent him a look and then delicately unfolded the napkin. Her eyes wandered the diner as she tried her best not to appear too interested, but she was dying to read what he read. 

“Stop or I might start pie-ning.” 

She blushed, a small giggle escaping her lips. She had never interacted with a man like this. At least not since primary school, and even that wasn't nearly as sweet as this… to think it was a monster who would approach her like this. She bit her lip to hide her smile and glanced back at him. And she had been scared… 

He was battling with himself not to look at her. She was so cute. Her puns, her smile, those eyes that stole coy little looks at him. Her dress was cute, and her hair, messy. There was something wrong about her though. Streaks of mascara… puffy red eyes. Those had started to fade but the smudged makeup remained. Was she ok? 

“Okey dokey, Ms. De Là Noir, ready for your bill?” asked a plump woman with a kind face. Annie. Frisk smiled at her and reached for her pur— Her… Frisk's head jerked about frantically as she searched for her purse. Fuck… Fuck I left my purse! She thought, her face paling with fear. 

“I'll take care of it,” the rumble of the skeleton's deep growl of a voice startled Frisk out of her panic. She looked up at him with surprise as he moved a bit closer to her. Annie sent him a fearful look and gave a curt nod. 

“Oh no, you don't have to—”

“—Nah, I got it, it's ok. Put it on my bill,” he growled with a firm look. 

“Of course,” murmured Annie as she darted to the back. 

The two sat in utter, dumbfounded silence. 

He didn't know what came over him. He had never offered to pay for someone before, but she was honest to God the most charming person he had met in a long time… and she had stood up for him, it was the least he could do. 

Frisk stared at her lone mug of coffee. A new fear began to creep into her mind. He offered to pay for her. She should've fought that harder. The last time a man had paid for her, he harassed her for sexual favors. Only because she had accidentally let slip she was a vaudeville dancer and… the implications of that. Of course when she had refused. She winced as her eye ached with phantom pain. She got off lucky… 

She sent a small, fearful look at Sans. He was bigger than that man. He looked stronger. He was a monster so she knew he had magic. He was a reaper so she knew even for a monster, he was powerful. 

But he just smiled kindly, as kindly as one could with sharp fangs and black eye sockets only lit by pricks of red light. 

“Thank you…” she murmured hesitantly. He shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Just returnin' the favor, kiddo,” he said. Something about the word kiddo put her at ease, but she didn't know why. 

Soon the bill came and he paid for both of them. He stood up and sent her another look. Is he leaving? She couldn't help but feel disappointed. 

He placed his black trilby on his skull and winked at her. 

“I'll miss you a latte,” he quipped one last time and she pursed her lips to hide her smile; she couldn't hide her blush. Before she could say another word, he was out the door. She looked back down at the napkin. 

“Stop or I might start pie-ning.” 

She couldn't help but give a girlish giggle as she neatly folded the napkin and carefully slid it into her dress pocket. 

Yes she definitely liked the diner… it made her feel real again. Real and sweet… real and delighted. Made her feel like she was more than burlesque. 

#wdyw #underfell #underfell frans #fransweek #flirting #lowkey awkward flirting #napkin letters #fanfic #mobfell #mafia au #underfell sans #underfell frisk #mafiafell sans #my art #my writing

[kickingitwithkirk]

Happy Coincidence Chance Discovery

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Piper, Jared Padalecki x Piper,

Characters: Dean Winchester /Jensen Ackles, mentions of Chad Michael Murray 

Word Count:4367

Warnings: cursing, kissing, nudity, implied sex/genital fondling/teasing 

 *Jared and Jensen are single.

A/N: for @idreamofplaid​  Thanks for the Memories Challenge #plaid and the memories  HAPPY BIRTHDAY JARED🎉

Prompt: Season 11, episode 4, Baby

A/N: Baby is my favorite episode but every time I’ve watched it I kept wondering; Sam’s hook up with Piper the waitress? So this is my fill in that blank with a Jared twist.

Divider: created by @writeyourmindaway​

*No beta all mistakes are mine

Dean drives into the parking lot of a roadhouse just after dusk and Sam looks at the marquee shaking his head in disbelief.

“Are you serious? Dean, it's late, I’m exhausted and..and.. and starving.  And this place. I mean, even Swayze wouldn't come to this roadhouse.” Sam groused.

“First of all, never use Swayze’s name in vain, okay. Ever.” Dean chastises his brother for such a sacrilege, “Second, you don't remember this place? You don't remember Heather, the hunter we worked the wendigo case a couple years ago?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sam partially smiles, remembering that night of fun.

 “Yeah, exactly” Dean taking the same trip down memory lane.

“What, she’s here tonight?” Sam asks, perking up a bit.

 “I texted her, she's working a rugaru case in Texas.” Dean says.

“Actually, she never texted me back. That's not the point, the point is that we have a ton of driving left to do just to go to a town where it's not probably a case.” Dean points ahead, “But in there, good times.”

 “Uh...” Sam hedges looking at the building.

 “But time heals all wounds, especially good times. What do ya say?” Dean looks at his brother hopeful.

 “I say... knock yourself out.” Sam answers with his usual reply and Dean looks away, “I'm gonna find a diner and dig into the lore like Cas did, see if anythings ever happened where we’re headed.”

“Ah man, you really got to learn to have fun.” Dean’s reply was full of disappointment in his little brother.

“Seriously. It’s pathetic.” 

They both climb out of the Impala. Sam grabs his bag from the backseat and starts walking back towards town as Dean heads into the roadhouse. 

***

Sam had walked over a mile looking for somewhere to eat. Being Saturday night he thought there’d be more open but that’s small town living, the streets roll up at noon on the weekends. 

He was about to give up and hike back to that mom & pop gas station he passed for a microwave burrito, preferably bean to get back at Dean, when he happened upon a small, local place, Mak’s Diner. 

Hitching his bag up, he pushed open the door expecting the usual greasy spoon Dean's unerring sense navigates towards and stops just inside the front door.

It was an older establishment, obviously one of those passed down from generation to generation places but to his surprise it was well maintained, despite the C on the marquee being burnt out.

“Evening, have a seat anywhere and I’ll be right with you.” A woman’s voice called out from the kitchen. Sam walked past the counter smiling at only other occupants, an elderly couple having coffee and dessert, heading towards the back where family seating was located. 

As he passed the next to last booth he noticed a closed laptop, several open books with notes scrawled around their margins, highlighted paragraphs and a few notebooks scattered on its tabletop.

He dropped the bag on the seat and shed his jacket before sliding into the booth, fishing out his laptop and the legal pad that he had started making more notes on earlier.

“Hey there, what can I get you?” 

Picking up the menu laying by his elbow Sam glances through it, “Coffee and the Cobb salad, thanks.” He orders closing the menu and looking up to hand it to the waitress. She is differently not what he would have expected to find in a backwater burg like this one. 

Her makeup is understated, nails painted a neutral color and her copper hued hair is pulled back in an elegant chiffon, not a high ponytail or hastily bobby pinned up-do, held in place with a real silver clip, the type that’s handed down as an heirloom.

“Just the Cobb salad?” She asked looking under the tabletop, taking in Sam’s long legs somewhat stretched out under it, boots bumping against the other side of the circular booth. Her blue/grey eyes slowly travel up appraising his body till they meet his.

“Big boys like you need more than a few leafy greens for stamina.” 

Sam felt himself blushing like he was seventeen again. Waitresses blatantly flirt with Dean and vice versa all the time so he’s taken aback by this woman's more than blatant appraisal of his physique.

“I, um, yeah, ju..just the salad.” Sam stammers out.

“Okay, be back with that coffee.” Her smiles genuinely, not that faked for the customers sake one he’s used to.

Sam appraises her retreating figure like she did him. She’s not wearing the nurses white or black rubber soled shoes that’s usual waitress gear he’s seen but a brand of tennis shoes he knows are out of the typical income of career restaurant staff. 

The fifties style, yellow uniforms color is completely unflattering, not fitting her right, way too tight around her bust and hips and far shorter than it should be, her mile long legs on display.

Sam shifts in his seat and tries to discreetly palm down his spontaneous erection but not so little Sam is putting up a fight, making it known it's been way too long since he’s gotten wet and he wants to enjoy her junoesque attributes. 

***

While he is waiting for a page to load Sam hears the elderly couple preparing to leave. He watches as the husband helps his wife into her jacket and gently takes her hand, resting it in the crook of his arm as they slowly make their way to the exit, feeling the pang of loneliness that’s his constant companion.

“Mr. Reynolds’s, hang on a sec,” the waitress calls from the kitchen emerging with a white cake box tied shut, “Auntie wanted me to make sure you got this before leaving. She’s sorry she missed your anniversary party.”

“You tell her we missed her, needs to hurry up and get well.” Mrs. Reynolds remarked as her husband took the box with his free hand. She glanced back towards Sam, “Sweetie, you gonna be okay here with the likes of him?” 

Sam kept his expression neutral, waiting to see how this plays out. He knew people found him intimidating because of his size and being a stranger in a small town, he definitely stands out but not many were that blatant about it.

“He ordered a Cobb salad, I think I can handle him,” she jested winking at him.

The couple bid her goodnight and she went back into the kitchen, Sam realizing they were now all alone. Sighing, he starts reading the info again trying to figure out what exactly their hunting is. Or not.

He was so focused on his research like usual he didn’t acknowledge the waitress standing there with his order.

“Kmm hmm,” Sam’s head snapped up, “must be something really good if you don’t notice the likes of me.” She chided him setting down a coffee decanter and cup.

“Sorry, guess I was kinda caught up.” Sam moves the laptop and notepad over as she sets down his salad and two types of dressing. “Figured you might not be a ranch type of guy so I grabbed the vinaigrette too.” 

“Thanks, I prefer vinaigrette, don’t usually get offered it.” 

“I’m pretty good at reading people which is why I also brought you this,” she set down another plate with a lettuce wrapped, curiously colored and, by the smell, not meat burger with all the fixings, a generous helping of baked sweet potato fries and a green colored milkshake.

“I didn’t order this.”

“I know but it cooks night off and I’m trying some new recipes. Seeing as you're the only other one here, you've been conscripted as my guinea pig.” She slid into the other side of his booth where an identical plate rested, “I wasn’t kidding about you needing more than just a salad. Besides, I hate eating alone, you wouldn’t believe how often it happens. Fuck, where’s my manners, I’m Piper.” She stuck her hand out across the table.

He takes her preferred hand amazed how it fits perfectly in his, “Sam.” 

“So Sam, figure out what you're hunting yet?” She asked nonchalantly as she picked up her burger, “Cause, not being judgey, but that’s some really random shit you got there.” She takes a bite, watches as his expression bounces between startled and incredulous.

“How…”

“Saw your Tarsus 99 when you took off your jacket. I had one as a kid, then daddy got killed on a hunt and I got sent here to live with Auntie, she doesn’t cotton to hunting.” 

Piper picked up a fry pointing it at him, “But what I really wanna know, where the hell did you get that demon blade, ‘cause I’ve never seen one like it before.” 

Sam hesitates, “That’s a long story.” 

“Don’t close till one and I’ve got nowhere to be after.”

Sam decides to deflect instead of answering. “So what is it you do, because you're definitely not a waitress.” 

“Officially, I’m an antique appraiser. Unofficially, I’m helping a wayward hunter who graced my door with something he can’t figure out.”

***

Sam and Piper, after closing the diner, stayed another three hours hashing out the research for his case were now taking their time walking back towards the roadhouse. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask, what’s with that name tag?” Sam noticed early it read Maggie.

“Came with this god awful uniform. Auntie insists that we all adhere to how her daddy ran the place. So when I came back to temporarily help out after her surgery, Maggie decided she was not gonna take orders from someone younger, quit and I got stuck with this. I told Auntie it wouldn’t fit, even with letting out the hem. Maggie was like five-four and I’m over five-ten! 

Ugh! I keep popping these stupid top buttons and can’t freaking bend over without showing everyone my C U Next Tuesday.” 

Sam smiled that nervous smile he got when unsure how to respond to an answer he wasn’t expecting.

“I normally wear this to cover it,” moving her pocketed hands in the light weight, knee length sweater she had put on when they left the diner, “but I have to confess,” Piper turned around, walking backwards, “I took it off when I saw you come in, thought what the hell, been long time since a really cute guy has walk through my door so...” She bit her lip, turning back around as they continued down the lane in companionable silence.

Sam mused over her confession admitting to himself he was interested in her too. He enjoyed sharing different theories and bouncing ideas of what they might be hunting back and forth with her, surprising him with her unique take on things.

Piper might not have been the type he consciously steered towards since Jess but she was comfortable to be around, didn’t feel his usual awkwardness he normally had around most women. 

They arrived at the roadhouse a few minutes later and Sam led her towards the Impala.

“Damn, you brother is a fucking artist, how many times has he rebuilt her?” Piper asked walking around the car, running her hand over the Impalas pristine exterior. 

“To many.” Sam replies, putting his bag on the front seat. “Can I have a look?” He turns to see Piper standing by the trunk. “Um, sure.” Strolling over he unlocks it and lifts the interior wheel well exposing the car's hidden armory.

“Is that a grenade launcher?”

“Yeah, Dean found it at the bunker.” Sam laughed remembering how excited Dean had been when he discovered it. 

Piper shook her head shutting the trunk and hopped up on it, “What’cha wanna do now, go in,” gesturing at the bar, “or hang out here for a while longer?”

“I think I’m good hanging o...”

Piper grabbed his jacket dragging him between her spread legs and kissed him.

It took Sam all of five seconds to process what was happening before his hands grabbed her hips and tugged her to the edge of the trunk, her short skirt riding even higher as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.

Sam jerked back as headlights flashing over them, a patrol car drove into the parking lot. He lifted Piper off the trunk and led her to the car's back door dragging  the green cooler out of their way.

Piper climbed in as he hauled it to the trunk and grabs the army blanket Dean keeps then gets in depositing it and his jacket over the front seat.

“Where were we before being rudely interrupted?” Piper asked, sliding onto Sam’s lap and leaning in to resume kissing him. 

Sam tangled his long fingers into her now loose hair pulling to halt her, “What about that patrolman?”

“Won’t be back till closing, around six A.M.”

“That means Dean won’t either,” he says closing the space between them, heatedly attacking her lips.

***

Piper ran her hand over his bare chest, “How long is your refractory period?”

Sam shifted to look down at her, “umm, around twenty minutes.”

“Hmmm, I’m gonna have to see what I can do to shorten that ‘cause we are so doing that more than once again.”

“And how are you gonna do that?” 

Piper stared at him slowly trailing her hand down his torso. Sam’s breath hitched as she lightly teased her fingers across his lower stomach, running through his treasure trail and over to his hip.

Shifting further down his body she continued running her fingers over the top of his left thigh feeling the hard muscles flexing under the skin. She placed both of her hands in between his legs shifting his left one off the seat and bending his right leg back placing his foot flat on the bench seat. 

Piper kneels in the space between Sam’s spread legs continuously moving her fingers in random patterns over the insides of both tights, touching him everywhere below his waist.

Sam closed his eyes groaning loudly, dropping his head back against the window as her fingers played over his balls feeling her other hand travel behind them teasing over his...

“You fell asleep in the fucking car!”

His eyes snapped open startled. Blinking rapidly he sees Dean leaning through the open car window looking at him. 

“Dean what...where’s Piper?”

“What’s a Piper?” He growled out, “Dude, we wrapped twenty minutes ago and I’ve been looking for you, got worried cause you weren’t answering your fucking phone Jay!”

He took a good look at Dean. His foggy brain finally realizing its mistake, taking in the headset hanging around his neck and the ball cap he likes wearing when directing. “Jen, sorry, guess I’m still in Sam headspace, got disoriented for a sec.”

Jensen laughed, “You find one grey hair and suddenly you're getting memory loss and needing naps? I’ll have to remember to have you in bed by nine, old man.” 

“Your fucking hilarious Jack.” Jared shoots back sliding across the seat getting out, “Man, I had the weirdest dream.”

“From the happy noises you were making that was far from weird. And speaking of happy,” Jensen's eyebrows went up as he pointedly looked down.

Jared glances down thinking he’s drooled all over himself only to see the prominent bulge in his jeans.

“Bob’s called a meeting in five but I think we’re gonna be late.” 

***

“I’m telling you it was so real! She was tall with coppery blond hair, tasted like chocolate peppermint and has this tattoo above her...” Jared paused grinning, keeping that specific location to himself, “I’ve never in my life had such a vivid dream like that.”

“Dude, you like petite brunettes.” 

“I know..so why would I make her a redhead?”

“Hell if I know, it’s your giant melon. Maybe all that sugar ribbon you eat is finally getting its revenge.” Jensen snarks as they enter the meeting room.

They were greeted by Bob’s gruff voice, “About time you two showed up. Alright, now that everyone is finally here, we need to get everyone up to speed. We’re having to make changes to the filming schedule.” He pauses looking at him notes, “Jared, don’t need you to come tomorrow for those new promo shots with, what was that new character again?” 

“Y/N Y/L/N, Sam’s new love interest.”

“Right, anyways, writers scraped that idea. As some of you heard, several of our exterior locations got flooded with that last storm and it’s taking time to find new locations so instead of doing blocking we're gonna do a quick read through of the new episode.”

Jared opened his copy of the new script to episode 4: Baby.

Reading the opening scene he experiences deja vu, quickly scanning the first two pages: bunkers garage: Dean washing the Impala, Sam having a possible case in Oregon. Next scene: interior shot Impala, Sam gets a protein shake out of cooler, Dean wants to know about the beer. Next scene: pulling in roadhouse parking lot, Dean trying to get Sam to join him, goes to eat instead, shot from Impala view watching Dean walking. Next scene: daybreak continuing from the view of the car...

“Fuck me.” Jared whispers, catching Jensen's attention. “What’s wrong?”

“This is how my dream started.”

Jensen pulls a yeah right face.

Jared shifted in his chair leaning closer to Jensen, looking directly into his green eyes, “I’ll prove it. Next scene: Dean gets in the car at daybreak and a naked waitress pops up in the backseat with a voice-over from Sam. Dean gets out peeping in the driver's side back window at her getting dressed. Cut to next scene: Sam climbs into front seat buttoning his flannel as he apologizes for having sex in Dean’s car. Dean, happy his brother finally got laid drives off quoting Bob Sager lyrics, playing Night Moves and Sam changing a lyric. 

Jared continued to lay out the entire episode from memory as Jensen flips through the script following.

“Bullshit Jared, someone snuck you a copy of this script, you're totally fucking with me.” 

“Jensen, not this time.”

***

Jared walked back to his trailer aggravated that Jensen won’t believe he didn’t get an advance peek of the script. He can’t shake this unsettling feeling that he was forgetting something important.

He was two steps into his trailer when his phone vibrated. Chad left a voicemail instead of texting, weird.

“Jay man, you gotta do me solid. A friend of mine got the part of Y/N on your show and I don’t know what the fucks happening up there but she flipped the fuck out on me! Need you to check on her, she’s outside one of the guest trailers. And have her call me back after she’s calmed the fuck down!”

Jared snorted, another woman pissed off at Chad, shocker. “The fuck you getting me into this time Murray.” Jared mutters to himself as he heads over to the guest stars trailers and hears a somewhat familiar voice outside of one.

“What do you mean there’s nothing you can do? I get here and now they're telling me they’ve dropped the story line.”

There was a pause in conversation as Jared walked closer to hear more clearly over the lot's noises and was shocked when he saw her sitting on one of the trailer's steps.

“But I signed a contract...what? I don’t remember seeing that in there. So they can just arbitrarily drop the part with no notification, that’s bullshit! I’ve never had a clause like that in one before. I gave up my job and apartment for this!” She gets up and paces around not noticing him. 

“They're giving me the bit part of the waitress in this episode, have a five am call for hair, getting a blonde rinse so I look more like a Dean type girl. I don’t know what the fuck is with these writers, it’s like they don’t get Sam, should’ve left him like Kripke originally created him.” She paused, “paying me what? At scale! That’ll just cover my petrol for the drive back to L.A. Wait, what about my six month lease? Could you check on it.” 

“Oh, giving me two nights at the Hilton. How magnanimous of them,” she sarcastically replies, “can I still get that part on Arrow...cast someone else.” She abruptly ends the call and sits back down on the step slumping over her knees.  

“So, how much of that fucked up conversation did you overhear?” She asked not looking at him.

“Um, almost all of it.” Jared confesses, “I wasn’t intentionally eavesdropping but I got a voicemail from Chad,” she looked up staring in disbelief at Jared, “he’s worried and wanted me to check on you.” 

“Fanfuckingtastic, can this day get any better? I’ve completely humiliated myself in front of Jared Fucking Padalecki!” 

Jared can just make out her blushing in the still dimming light. “I wouldn’t say completely, I mean, you could drop your pants and yell Pudding.”

She blinked at him before doubling over in laughter, “Alright, point taken. Still, it’s a crock of shit you don’t need to be bothered with.”

“Chad’s kinda made it my problem. Look, I don't know all the details but maybe I can help, I can call casting..”

“Oh hell no! Thanks but no thanks. Bunch of assbutts on social media were already speculating about how someone like me got the part in the first place. Last thing I need is more ammo for the haters, they’ll tweet something like I had a three way with you and Ackles because I was desperate to get the part back.” 

Jared cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair embarrassed to feel turned on by the imagery she conjured up in his mind. 

 “Mmm, that’d be my wet dream come true, but not the point, they’ll just come up with some random shit.”

Jared understood being all too familiar with the anti whatever’s having been the target himself.

“Okay, how about we go to my trailer,” she gave him a skeptical look, “where you can have some privacy to call Chad back. I’ll get de-Sam’d and we can talk some more or grab a bite if you're hungry.”

“You don’t know me from Adam, what if I’m some psychotic serial stocker nut job?” 

“If your friends with Chad, you absofuckingloutley are Ms. what's your name.” Jared sarcastically remarks given her a mischievous grin.

“Touché, and it's Piper,” Jared froze at her name, “and you’ve been friends with Murry longer than me so I know you’re straight up batshit crazy.” She smarts back standing up, “lead on, oh gallant knight.”

***

Jared walked out of the bath toweling his wet hair sees Piper lounging on his couch still on the phone with Chad.

As he crossed over to the kitchen's fridge he couldn’t help but notice her low rise jeans had ridden lower, revealing the top half of the tattoo just above her..

“Dude, should’a told me Padalecki has a tattoo kink,” Jared tripped over his feet before catching himself embarrassed at getting caught, “Yeah, that was your boy.” She winked at him, “No way in hell I’m ever showing it to you perv.” Jared loudly laughs at that. “Hey, when I get back I’m PA’ing for you till I get another gig. Don’t you dare argue, you got me into this so it’s that or I’m on your couch for a month,” Piper rolled her eyes at Chad’s response, “Yeah, yeah, talk to you later.”

“Is that how you met Chad, working as a PA?” Jared inquired coming over to sit down next to Piper handing her a beer. 

“Yeah, paid the bills while doing auditions, was starting to pick up a few bit parts around LA.” Piper starts nervously fiddling with the bottles label, “I heard about the casting call for a new Sam girl and Murry talked me into trying out for it, so I figured unless I kiss Crowley I don’t have a shot in hell and holy fuck, I got it.” 

She stopped talking but kept playing with the label. 

“Hey, whatever it is you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Jared says gently touching her shoulder in a reassuring manner.

She took a long pull of her beer before continuing. “My Auntie died and I inherited everything, including her debts. I negotiated a smaller settlement but it wiped out all my savings.” She paused draining the rest of her bottle. “I figured it was serendipity..”

Jared is half listening, feeling that uneasy sensation again at that last word.

“...gonna be Sam Winchester’s...”

“If we’re meant to meet again,”

“.. weren’t killing her off after three episodes but then they decided to drop that story line...”

“we will.”

“...I should be going. Thanks for the beer and letting bending your ear, I’m gonna get out of your hair.” Piper gets up heading for the door.

Jared finally remembers.

“I believe in serendipity..maybe you can too.”

He quickly jumped up moving between her and the door blurting out, “I know you said you didn’t want my help but you can’t go, not yet.”

“Okay, why not? ‘Cause any other time I’d be up for some wham bam thank you ma’am but so not in the mood right now.”

Taking a deep breath he goes for it, “So, get this, after we finished filming today, I fell asleep in the Impala and had this dream…” 

***

Jared sat on the couch nervously chewing on his thumb watching as Piper paces back and forth mulling over his story.

She abruptly stopped and sat down on the table in front of him. “So here's the deal, I will believe everything you've told me,” Jared opens his mouth to say something but Piper reached out laying her fingers on his lips, “if you can answer one question.” 

Jared took her hand remembering how it felt so right in his, “Okay.”

“Since you’ve seen it in your dream, what does my tattoo mean?”

“In Japanese, it means happy coincidence,” Jared confidently says sitting back as Piper climbs onto his lap, “but that's the first line, the second one is chance discovery.”

Jared pulls her in, brushing his lips against hers, running his tongue across them so she’ll part them , allowing him access. He can taste the beer they’ve been drinking but there’s that sumptuous flavor of her underneath he finds intoxicating..chocolate peppermint..thinking to himself..

Serendipity.

#plaid and the memories #Baby #sam winchester x piper #jared padalecki x piper #SPN Supernatural #sam winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #Jensen Ackles

[astras-world]

WHAT MAKES IT WORTH IT CHAPTER IV- AVOID.

Warnings:Swearing, small fight scene

Thanks for everyone who sent in suggestions from the prompt list!

You weren't sure how you were going to do this. How you were going to avoid having these secret moments with Tom so abruptly but you knew it had to happen.

This was getting you nowhere, your feelings would eventually get in the way of work and truth be told you still needed this job.

So you started small, like pulling your hand away when he grabs it or sitting next to anyone else except for him. You started to ask Harrison to wake Tom up early in the morning to get him to taping and he reluctantly obliged telling you that confronting Tom about your feelings would be more helpful and solve all your problems.

But it wasn't that easy, nothing with Tom was even as kids he would disagree with you and do the exact opposite of what you wanted to do, he was a pain in the ass.

Now is a whole other world of problems starting with how to detach yourself from him in any form possible, the first step to erasing your feelings for him.... Maybe.

Truth be told you had no idea how to do it or if it will even work cause you knew you were already in too deep, getting rid of your feelings for him seemed impossible.

You've been successful so far and so far meaning a couple of days and you weren't sure how much longer you can keep it up.

You missed him, everything about him. The way his hands felt against your skin, his soft lips pressing small kisses on random parts of your body, his body enveloping yours in his completely. You missed the comfort, you missed his laugh to the point that every chuckle physically pained you.

It hurted more everyday that passed, it made you want to run into his arms and stay there forever. But that wasn't possible you kept telling yourself everytime the thought came into your mind which happened way too often

You weren't sure if he noticed, if he did it didn't matter, he wasn't making much of an effort anyway.

But Tom did notice. He noticed the way your hand would slip away from his evertime he tried. He noticed how you didn't sat next to him anymore. How you made excuses to not join him for his naps, how you made Harrison wake him up Every morning instead of going yourself. He noticed how you would pull away from him when he started to get close

He figured that maybe you were mad at him or something so he gave you space thinking that in a couple of days everything would go back to normal. He hoped it will.

He missed you, more than he'd ever admit to himself. He missed running his fingers through your hair everytime you got a headache, he missed holding your hand and the comfort you provided, he missed the way you would fit into him so perfectly when he'd hold you as the both of you were sleeping, he missed your voice telling him off, your laugh, everything. It was almost painful.

But days turned to weeks and those weeks turned into a month, it was taking a toll on the both of you it was evident on the bags unde. your eyes and your forced smiles.

Tom didn't understand why you were acting the way that you were, it was starting to not matter at all. He just wanted his best girl back.

Tonight you were out clubbing with the rest of the gang, you needed to get drunk and Tom had a plan to talk to you.

So after entering the club you immediately went to the bar and ordered your favorite drink hoping to get drunk by the end of the night.

Your wishes came true cause nearing the end of the night you were drunk and dancing with strangers.

One particular stranger caught your eye, he was tall and had charming brown eyes and in your drunken state it was enough to get you giggling like a school girl.

Tom however wasnt in the mood for a drink and he kept an eye on you all night long, keeping an eye on the man that spoke to you at the bar.

Noticing his hand on your waist and the way you smiled up at him, he could almost hear your laugh if it weren't for the music blasting through the speakers surrounding the area.

He let you do your thing, let you get drunk, let you hang around this guy but that didn't stop the sinking feeling in his chest. It didn't stop him from clenching his jaw and his hand curl up into a fist.

Harrison noticed of course. Tom was never one to turn down a drink or a good time and so he followed his line of sight and there you were, flirting with a handsome stranger.

He had to laugh, you were both idiots who kept denying the way you felt about one another.

'She seems to be having a good time" Haz says nudging tom a little

"Mmm" Tom hummed in agreement.

"why aren't you?" Haz says turning to Tom

"What are you talking about? I am having a good time" Tom denies.

"uh huh, that shit doesn't work on me." Haz gives him a look.

"nothing, I just- I want my girl back." Tom says sighing

"She's not yours though, is she?" Haz says cautiously

"No she's- not in that way. You know what I mean" Tom stutters out.

"Yeah I know exactly what you mean. Why don't you make her yours?" Haz asks.

"We're not like that, man. Besides she deserves someone better" Tom says shaking his head.

"Someone better? What kind of better?" Haz asks outraged

"you know, someone stable. Someone who's not everywhere every time." Tom says.

"Mate she travels with you everywhere" Haz says flatly.

"yeah but that isn't what she wants now is it? She likes to settle down. She likes to stay at home, she's adventurous sure, but my kind of adventures aren't for her." Tom says.

"That doesn't even make any sense" Haz says and Tom sighs.

"Listen, Me and y/n, we're not like that. We can't" Tom says with finality

Harrison was about to respond when they heard a squeal very much like yours and they both turn their heads to where the sound came from

There they found you trying (and failing) to push the man away from you. Who was clearly trying to make a move

Tom's blood immediately boiled at the sight. Almost like blacking out he was suddenly punching the guy away from you.

"What the fuck, man?" the unknown guy said wiping blood off his face

"Thomas!" you shouted at the same time in shock immediately holding him back.

"She said no, man." Tom said menacingly.

"Why don't you mind your own fucking business?" The man said pushing tom provoking him further

"She is my business now back the fuck off will you?" Tom said lowly.

The man was about to throw another punch at Tom when Harrison interviened

"I wouldn't do that if I were you or would you rather face a billion dollar lawsuit for damaging Marvel's golden boy?" Haz said clicking his tounge tilting his head slightly.

The man left with an angry huff leaving you with Tom and Haz.

"Take her home, Tom" Haz then turned to you "And you little miss, are in a lot of trouble." pointing his finger at you a smirk playing on his lips.

Tom dragged you away after an exchange of goodbyes with your other friends keeping a tight arm on you as he goes along making sure you stayed by his side.

You on the other hand was still pretty out of it, just sober enough to understand what happened.

Tom led you to the car and you sat in silence for a while, you all too willing to keep ignoring him. If you break now you don't know what would happen.

"So that's it? You'll keep ignoring and avoiding me and think that I don't notice?" Tom said breaking his silence.

"I'm not avoiding you nor am I ignoring you." You said trying to keep your voice.

"I thought the saying went 'drunk people say sober thoughts" Tom said raising his eyebrow at you

"I'm sober" you said defensively

"You were drinking like a damn fish" Tom said flatly

"I may have had a couple shots." you say pouting

"Uh huh, that's what I thought." Tom says humorously.

"Why are you like this? What did I do?" Tom

"You didn't do anything."You shrugged

"Then why are you mad at me?" Tom said defeatedly.

"I'm not mad at anyone" you said blankly.

"Well why are you acting like this, then?" Tom asks

"Acting like what?" You ask brows furrowed.

"Acting like, like,, not like you!" Tom says.

"And when did you become an expert on who I am?" you ask incredulously

"You can't possibly think you're the only one who picks up on habits, who cares enough to notoce anything?" Tom ask rhetorically but you answer anyway.

"Yes. I do. And if anyone else were to, they wouldn't be you." You say.

"and why is that?" Tom asks

"The only person you care about is yourself." Ypu say, immediately wanting to take it all back.

"That's bullshit and you know it." Tom says hotly.

It was. You knew it was. You knew he cared more than he'd ever let on. You knew he cares too much sometimes. He always cared.

But you stayed silent anyways. You were persistent on staying like this. You didn't have it in you to find out what would happen if partially drunk you started talking about what's wrong.

So the drive continued silently. You didn't notice falling asleep but the next thing you knew you were being carried up.

You felt the familiar warmth wrapping around you and you immediately relax, you missed this, everything about it and now here you were back in his arms like and you didn't know how the hell you could ever pry yourself away from him ever again.

So you open your eyes slightly still half asleep.

I love you.

You wanted to say. You wanted him to know. You wanted to just tell him right there.

But you didn't..

"you have, the most beautiful eyes, Tommy." you muttered so quietly it was a miracle he heard you.

"Really, love? I thought they're quite boring?" Tom said humorously reminding you of a moment where you told him that his eyes were indeed boring

You and Tom were only starting to get along, today you had to help him with his lines, Tom always had a hard time reading his lines but he did great remembering it, his dyslexia has been getting difficult especially being mixed with stress and time zone changes, so he needed extra help studying his lines.

The scene you were reading was between him and Zendaya, a scene where they take off swinging in the city and the dialogue starts once they land

"Oh my god I am never doing that again" you said acting as though you were breathless

"It was fun! Sorry, did I freak you out?" he said acting happy then immediately switched to concernedYou lift your eyes from the script meeting his eyes feeling yourself slowly drifting deeper into his chocolate colored eyes.

"No, I just uhm.. I-" you stutter forgetting the lines immediately looking back down on your script and blushing

"Getting lost in my eyes, love?" He says teasingly a smirk dancing on his lips.

"Oh please Thomas, who would get lost in your eyes?" you scoff bot allowing yourself to get caught.

"You apparently." Tom chuckles and you scoff

"How could I? You have the most boring, standard eyes anyones ever had" You say rolling your eyes"

whatever you say, darlin'."

"Hmm, I lied" you hum.

"I know darling, I saw you blush." Tom says laughing "Nothing wrong in thinking I'm attractive, love" he shrugs a smile playing on his lips as he lays you down on the bed Taking off your shoes and crouched on the floor near you brushing hair away from your face.

"There is when you don't think the same." you mumbled.

"Now who said I don't find you attractive?" Tom chuckles

"I did." You sneered sleepily.

"Now that's just ridiculous, love. I think you're gorgeous." Tom said softly, seriously, admiration clear in his voice

You opened you eyes only to meet his and your gazes lock on each other.

"Can I tell you a secret, love?" Tom asks

"Anything." you answer right away.

"I really want to kiss you right now." Tom says brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"then kiss me." You said seriously your eyes still locked on each other.

"If I kiss you right now, I won't be able to stop." Tom said his lips inches away from you.

Taglist:

Shoot me an ask if you wanna be included or removed from this taglist! Please leave a like, send feedback and reblog Thanks for the support on this series, yall are A M A Z I N G.

@bookworm104 @hells-personal-bitch @bellagrayson-wayne @igoldieloxi @potter-holland @spideyyeet (Hi i follow u ❤️) @danicarosaline @armweldon17 @yeeterbenjaminparker @breadbudzo @carry-on-my-wayward-spiderboy @whiskeywinter89 @rose495 @faeriedelalune-blog @liberty-01 @hiccup005 @lookalivefrosty @dramaticdimples @laucontrerasv @icegirl2772   @julsgrc @smexylemon @fuckyeahhomerun @wonders-of-the-multiverse @unknwn98 @ixchel-9275 @popluckbih @marvelislove10 @spideylovin @wwindflower @the-magical-fox @jubaydahk @jackiehollanderr @fangirlingisajob @spideyxxboi @americaswritings @amazingjordanjazzyisnotonfire

#tom holland #peter parker #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagine smut #peter parker imagine #tom holland imagine masterlist #wmiwt #Tom holland x reader #Tom holland fluff #Tom holland angst #Tom holland imagine fluff #Tom holland imagine angst #Spider-Man: Far From Home #Ffh #I HAVE SUCH A GOOD AUDIENCE FOR THIS SERIES I'M:CRYING.

[crazymarvelsuperfamily]

Hi! I honestly love all the work you've posted so far and honestly enjoy how you portray Peter's relationships with the Avengers. I was also wondering, how would Peter introduce his friend, a nonbinary trans hero, to his adoptive family?

I present to you this:(which is written with a mother of all headaches from concussion so please don’t @ me…) much love, Ren x

To Peter, MJ was more than just a friend. They were a complete, utter, total, God-send. While Peter had his Spidey-sense, MJ had their common-sense – and a knack for stopping Peter from causing a disaster everywhere he went. The whole of the team had always been super supportive of Peter, and always wanted to know how he was, and whether he’d had a good day at school. And Nat had always been keen to meet Peter’s friends. Ned, Peter’s “guy in the chair”, had met Tony at first by accident. He happened to stop by to show Peter a new lego set, while Stark was at the apartment, “enjoying” a slice of May’s date loaf. Once his “fan-girling”, had at last subsided, and Tony managed to get some coherent sentences out of him, Ned was immediately accepted into Peter’s rather crazy, and slightly dysfunctional family. It didn’t take him long before he was joining the team for movie nights, press conferences, and even sleeping over with Peter. 

Nat noticed pretty quickly, that a certain MJ repeatedly appeared in stories told by both Ned and Peter, and was intrigued to meet… well, she wasn’t really sure if MJ was a he or a her… But what she did know, is that he/she (?) was a definite member of they boys’ friend circle, especially after Ned referred to them all as “the three musketeers.” She tried to gently prompt Peter to bring MJ home repeatedly, but Peter for some reason always got rather defensive. Nat assumed MJ was a crush or something, but not wanting to upset Peter, she let things slide.

It wasn’t that Peter was ashamed to have a non-binary friend, hell, if MJ was a fucking giraffe he’d still be thankful for just how amazing they were. It was just, he was hesitant for them to meet his family. Steve and Bucky were from the 40s – Peter wasn’t even sure if they knew that there are more than two genders. Nat had always seemed pretty uptight, Bruce was a fan of the awkward “when you get a girlfriend….” – always assuming Peter was straight, and well, although Tony was an obvious chaotic bisexual, Peter couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t act adversely to the prospect of Peter having a non-binary friend. So, the team remained in the dark about MJ, and eventually, Peter had thought that they would have forgotten about them, after almost 3 months without a mention.

Tony was just waiting for the last few parcels of presents to be delivered. Peter’s 16th had to be special. He had spoken to the boy on numerous occasions, and he was adamant that he did not want a massive party, “no Tony, not even if you booked AC/DC.” So, he had finally managed to settle on a pretty small occasion. The whole team was coming over (plus Clint’s family) and May and Ned. They were just going to have a fairly quiet evening and spend some time together. That was when Tony remembered Peter had a friend… was it MJ?? Somewhere in his database, he found Ned’s number, and sent him a text, asking him to invite MJ. The reply he got was hopeful, but not definite, about the appearance of this secret friend at the party. 

Peter had had a pretty crap day. If it wasn’t for the massive flashing 16 badge pinned to his blazer, no one would have known it was his birthday. Not with 4 pop quizzes in 5 classes, and two essays set – oh yeah, and the group project with Flash. He had missed the bus that morning, and there was a heavy downpour, so to top the day off, he had spent it walking around in sodden sneakers. His hopes were lifted slightly, at the sight of the sleek black Bentley parked directly in front of the school gates, but neither Happy nor Tony were sitting waiting for him, so he miserably made his way to the bus stop. He was almost at his stop, when he got a brief text from Happy inviting him to the tower, so he impatiently sat through the further 45 minutes of his journey. But barely five seconds later, his phone powered off. Shme, some birthday Peter muttered under his breath.

By the time he arrived at the tower, he was borderline fuming, in desperate need of a change of clothes, and completely not down to spend the evening in the lab with Tony. He’d bet all $30 from May that Tony had forgotten the date anyway. “Peter Parker.” He growled into the microphone.“Insufficient authentication. Registered voice required.” FRIDAY replied distantly.“FRIDAY, what the hell? You know its me. Let me in already.”“Sorry, Mr Parker, the protocols boss set do not permit your entrance unless you use the correct voice activation.”“Peter?” He tried to ask chirpily, hoping that he would be allowed in.“Incorrect.”“spiderman”“incorrect”“Spiderling”“incorrect.”“Crime-Fighting-Spider”“incorrect”“Spider-Boy”“incorrect”“Underoos”“incorrect”“Spider-Guy on YouTube”“incorrect”Peter rolled his eyes. Tony had threatened to change his name the other day when Peter drank the last of the milk straight from the carton. “Little Bastard in Red Tights”“Welcome, Little Bastard in Red Tights.” FRIDAY almost sang, as the elevator doors slid open and took him up to the Common Floor.

When the doors opened again, revealing a tidied room, lined with balloons. Food was spread out across the table, and an extremely huge pile of presents took up a large amount of floor space. From out of every corner of the room, The Avengers sprung, each with a party hat and one of those cheap horn things. A smile instantly broke on his face as he scanned the room – everyone was there – the whole team – Laura and the kids, Ned, May, MJ… wait, MJ? Peter double took. They stood right in the middle, having popped up from behind a couch. They waved at Peter, revealing their graphic T-shirt that read “They/them pronouns, get over yourself. I’m valid.”

Steve was surprised when he met MJ, not because they were non-binary, but because Peter was scared to introduce them to him. And he suspected that he and Bucky were the ones that caused Peter to be hesitant about introducing MJ to the team. Sure, he was from the 40s, but that didn’t mean he held their values. Heck, he’d been in a relationship with Bucky since not long after the Accords. Besides, times had changed in 70 years – understandment of gender wasn’t at all what it used to be. Steve couldn’t care less who MJ identified as, as long as they were a good friend to Peter. And, in the short hour between MJ and Ned arriving at the tower in the Bentley, and Peter turning up soaking wet from walking (God, Tony needs to give the kid a break – and a towel…) MJ appeared to be one of the best friends Peter could possibly have. They were quick, witty, and super intelligent, but most importantly, they were sensible – and Peter needed nothing more than a sensible friend.

That evening made Peter’s birthday the best one ever – even with the awful day he had had. For once, Tony had actually listened to him, and didn’t throw the biggest party of the year – instead, he had a movie night with the people he was closest to. They watched Empire Strikes back, Peter’s favourite film of all time, and ate more pop corn than anyone of them would care to admit. Peter sat in the middle of the long sofa with his legs curled under a blanket. May sat to one side of him leaning onto his shoulder, and to the other, MJ slumped with a large bag of chocolate. It was late before everyone left (except for May, who had to excuse herself early for an emergency shift, asking Tony if it was alright for Peter to stay over – which it obviously was) MJs father collected them and Ned, Laura – who was invited to stay over, started the drive home with the kids and Clint. Then slowly, the rest of The Avengers dispersed and left for their own floor. By the end of the credits scene, only Peter and Tony remained in the room. “Hey Pete?”“yeah Mr Stark.”“Happy Birthday.”“Not any more Mr Stark – my birthday was over an hour ago.”“It is if you’re in Malibu.”“But we aren’t?” Peter yawned.“Not right now, but I thought a part of your birthday present could be a trip to the mansion with your friends.”Peter’s eyes lit up, “really?!”“Yeah kid.” Tony replied softly, ruffling Peter’s soft curls as he walked past him. “I’ve already spoken to Ned and MJ’s parents, and they’re down for it.”“MJ too?” Peter asked.“Yeah – they’re one of your best friends, aren’t they?” Tony asked, slightly nervously.“Obviously – I was just worried to introduce them to you – you know, with being non-binary…”“Peter,” Tony said seriously, looking the boy in the eyes, “don’t you ever feel afraid to introduce anyone to me or to the rest of the team. I will gladly support you and your friends, and so will the rest of the team, unless they want an iron fist to answer to. That is, as long as you don’t bring home that God awful Wade Wilson.”

#iron dad #Precious Peter Parker #nb mj #marvel prompt #MCU fanfiction #short fic

[zutaralover94]

love the drabbles you've been doing!!!! could you maybe do 11 (the partners in crime au) for zutara pls???

So sorry this one has taken soooooo long! I’ve been writing two different stories at the same time! Seriously I was so inspired by two prompts that I was double writing! This isn’t smut. And to be truthful I want to write soooo much more for this prompt! But I hope you enjoy what I have :)

Katara bit her lip behind her mask. Her heartbeat picked up speed and a small strand of adrenaline ran to her toes. Katara’s steady fingers slid the almost non existent switch on the side of the display case. This was Katara’s favorite part. The twelve seconds before alarms went blaring and a decoy was placed in whatever item’s she was stealing place. Her great infamous get away. Paint.

‘The Painted Lady’. Katara smirked as she shook her can of red spray paint.The small jingle of balls mixing the paint in the can. She pocketed the large sapphire before replacing it with a cardboard replica. Katara placed it where the sapphire once had been.  Once on the holding she sprayed the replica and the wall behind it with her stenciled red spray painted lips.

Three. Two.

Katara slid silently out as the alarm went off. Katara chuckled and scaled a fire escape to the roof of a building. Katara felt the adrenaline fully kick in as she ran across two buildings to drop between an alley landing in a mattress filled dumpster.

Katara popped her neck as she jumped out of the dumpster. She pulled up the large gem from her pocket. Two black covered fingers snatched the shining jewel. Katara gasped and lunges for the sapphire. A blue mask tilted it’s head before flipping up and slipped through an open window. Katara jumped for the window sill and pushed herself up and into the room.

Motherfucking Blue Spirit.

He had been tailing her for months now. Letting her do a robbery before pickpocketing her and running. She had lost two major clients. Over fifty thousand pieces. Gone. Like hell this was going to be another one!

Katara slipped and followed the Blue Spirit before her. There was a short pause before the blue mask took off in a high sprint. Katara tried to follow but lost in the dark of the abandoned apartments she was stumped.”Ugh!”

Katara slammed another apartment door closed. “Fuck you, Blue Spirit.”

Katara sighed and made her way back to the club house. Aang waiting up for her patiently. He had his hands folded over his chest and turned around in his chair as she approached the desk. “Hey Godfather.”

Aang sent her a deadpan look. “Where is it?”

“You should probably ask the Blue Spirit.” Katara flopped into a chair on the other side of the desk.

Aang leaned forward with a grimace. “Again?”

Katara rolled her eyes. “Who is he selling the shit to anyway?”

“A big buyer in the Inner Rings.” Aang pinched the bridge of his nose and walked around the desk leaning back on the wood. “Kat, I can’t just be losing accounts like this. I was promised big money.”

“You know pocketing isn’t my forte.” Katara crossed her arms and looked away.

“Yeah but your the best lock pick and stealth that I have.” Aang nudged her foot with his. “I really needed you to pull this one out.”

Katara sighed, “Sorry.”

“Mmm.” Aang shook his head. “Go get sleep. I’m done with you for now.”

“How gracious.” Katara replied sarcastically and left the room to get a good night’s sleep.

The next morning brought a headache. Mentally and Physically.

“There she is.” Aang wore a bright smile as he motioned for her to come in. “Katara.”

A tall man with dark shagging hair stood beside her. A prominent red scar over his left eye. He wore a dark grey t-shirt and red windbreaker pants with ‘Fire Nation’ written down the sides of them. She could just tell by his stance she was not going to like this guy very much.

“Hey.” Katara nodded. The guy in turn lifted his head in a hello.

“Kat, this is Zuko.” Aang motioned to the man next to him. “Your new partner.”

Katara’s jaw dropped. “I’m sorry. I think I misheard you. Did you say partner?”

Aang held up a hand to keep Katara from a complete burst out. “Kat. This is a good thing. It’s a big job and I need two SKILLED people on this.” Katara looked the guy over again and huffed. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Katara?”

Katara held out her hand for the file. Just like she had done every job. Aang passed her the folder. In it would be every entrance and exit of the place. It would have the details of who owned the building and what item(s) she would steal.  Often times it showed what other items were next to it and their price.

But when Katara opened the folder there was only one sheet of paper. A drawn picture of a golden egg.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Katara turned the piece of paper over and over again. This could not be the only thing.

“Now do you see why I need you two?” Aang raised an eyebrow to Katara. “I’ve got Toph getting background and other small details and Sokka on what you may need for this trip.” Aang turned to the man now. “I’ll have more details later but,” Aang paused and looked over to Katara. “I need you two to be ready at anytime. So no extra robberies for the next few days.”

“Yeah?” The man spoke. “And how do you plan for me to be paid while I’m waiting this unknown time period?”

Aang lead in with an intimidating look, “Trust me when we get this egg, it will pay for everything and anything you will need for the rest of your life.”

The guys eyes widened. “H-how much?”

Aang leaned back with a smirk, “Your first cut is over 200 million gold pieces. After that I have a funding system that will pay you 1 million gold pieces every year for the next 75 years.” Aang crossed his arms over his chest looking pleased with himself. “And that’s only for you, Zuko.”

Katara’s eyes flashed to the man. Zuko? As in… Well, Great Spirits, no wonder he looked so familiar. “Nice.”

“I thought so, now you guys run along.” Aang shooed them off. “I’ve got work to do.”

The next few days Katara and Zuko hung around the clubhouse. They were filled in when big news came up. There were lots of charts and Aang talking them through the strategies and plans. But he would often look to Katara and then Zuko for additional comments and questions. Katara found out quickly that Zuko liked to work alone just as much as she did. Which couldn’t be good.

“Alright. We have a good scope of what we are getting ourselves into but,” Aang looked between Zuko and Katara. There had been a large map with lots of details written in over it. “We don’t know the security they have over this item. For the price of the egg, It’s going to have some pretty high tech security if not a sniper trained to pull the trigger at anyone who gets too close to it.” Aang leaned back, Zuko and Katara following him with their eyes. “So, we want you two to attend this party. Zuko, we know we can get you in there easy. But Kat…” Aang looked over to her. “Kat, your going to be Zuko’s lover.”

Katara closed her eyes and let out a humorless laugh, “Good one, Aang.”

“Kat.” Aang said with warning in his voice. “You’re my best lock pick. You have to go and tell me what type of security it is. And with Zuko’s connections.” Aang shrugged and motioned to the map in front of them. “This is the easiest I can get you in and practically a front row seat to the egg.”

Katara sighed and glanced at Zuko.

“I think it’s our best shot.” Zuko said with a shrug. “I’m in.”

“Count me in too.” Katara sounding less enthusiastic.

Katara entered on Zuko’s arm, in probably the fanciest dress she had ever worn. Stolen or not.  Zuko was in a dark navy suit with red paisly tie. And if Katara was honest he looked amazing. But Katara was never going to say that out loud.

There was a  beep in her ear and Aang filled her ear. “We in?”

“Yep.” Katara whispered.

Katara was the ears while Zuko, wearing the glasses Toph gave him, was the eyes. When someone had mentioned his new look, he complained about old eyes. Even a ‘better to see you with.’ Katara had rolled her eyes.

They nodded and gave a few short words to a few fancy pants. They finally made it down the hall. A small spark lit in her stomach as they finally made it into the same room as the golden egg. She nodded to a few people as she guided Zuko around the egg. He kept his head down but his eyes were looking at the people around them.

“Get Zuko to take three steps back and look to the left.” Katara nodded and hooked her arm through Zuko’s and pulled him to a halt. She took three steps back and pointed to her left to a few people. Zuko’s face turned slightly but not very fast. “Got it.” Katara sighed and peaked over to Zuko.

“Zuko!”

Katara felt muscles tense under her fingers. “We have to go.” Zuko’s voice muttered. “Now.” They got exactly two steps when hands clutched his jacket.

“ZuZu!” A girl in a pink jumpsuit and her hair in a high braid smiled brightly up to him. “You’re not gonna stop and say hi? Mai and I haven’t seen you in forever. Come say hi!”

Zuko closed his eyes and took off the glasses. Katara heard the mutter of ‘no’s come from her ear. But she clicked the power of her bluetooth. Zuko didn’t ask her to, but she felt like she should.

“Ty Lee.” Zuko straightened the knot in his tie and cleared his throat. “I’d like you to meet, Katara. She is a very good friend of mine.”

“Oh?” Ty Lee’s large doe eyes blinked at her and then she smirked, “Ohhhh.”

“Ty Leeee.” Zuko had a warning in his tone.

“What?” Ty Lee smiled not so innocently. “It’s not everyday we meet a girl friend of Zuko’s.”

Katara ducked her head at the implication and removed her arm from the crook of his arm. “I’m not-”

“She’s not.” Zuko cleared his throat again. “Tell Mai and Sis hi and bye for me. I’ve got to get Cinderella home.” Zuko winked to Katara, who felt heat flood her face. He leaned over and kissed Ty Lee’s cheek before pulling Katara along and out the door.

It was three days later, Katara’s hands were shoved in tight pockets that held her spray paint. Toph went out of her way to make tiny tubes look like lipstick cases and filled them with bright red spray paint. Katara bit her lip and pulled the black mask up and over her nose. She had already dotted her forehead with red jewels. Katara’s signature look in place. The spirit of the Painted Lady slipping into her.

When Katara met Zuko in the lounge he was dressed similar to her. But there was no black mask. Katara tilted her head. She had seen that black belt before… No  way. Zuko turned his back to her and a Blue Spirit mask was attached to a string around his neck. No fucking way.

“What’s an assassin doing stealing an egg?”

Zuko turned to her quick. He hadn’t heard slip in. “Huh?”

“Why are you here?” Katara’s eyes slitted to a glare.

“Kat. Not now.” Aang stepped forward. But stepped back quickly when Katara hissed at him.

“Why is a trained assassin stealing an egg?” Katara folded her arms over her chest. “And you knew?” Katara threw her hand out towards Aang.

“We didn’t know how dangerous the job was.” Aang crossed his arms. “I need you to make it out of there with that egg alive.”

“And I will.” Katara said between her teeth. “I don’t need an assassin to follow me.”

“I don’t know about that…” Aang began but it was Zuko who moved towards Katara.

“Kat.” Zuko placed a hand on her shoulder. “Your good at what you do. But damn if your not oblivious to how many times you could have gotten hurt or killed. I’m just there to make sure the egg gets to Aang. Since you know,” Zuko smirked and tilted his head. “That sapphire was really pretty huh?”

“Fuck you.” Katara whispered.

Had she really been in enough trouble all those times? Katara mentally shrugged. Could she have gotten herself out of trouble if it did show up? Katara mentally shrugged again. But if Aang was worried for her safety for this job, maybe she should have an assassin as a bodyguard.

“Look let’s just get going. Tell Toph we are in route.” Katara turned her back to the boys. Someone chuckled. Her guess, Aang.

Katara and Zuko take different paths to get to the museum. The same one they had scoped out a few nights ago. Katara stood on the roof. There was a large ceiling of glass windows.

Step 1: Suction two off and bend half the pane until it breaks. Jump in and roll onto second story balcony.

Katara touched the bluetooth in her ear. “1.1 check.”

“2.1 check.” Zuko’s voice was clear back.

Step 2: Toph screws around the cameras for 18.45 seconds and jewel is ours.

“T.1 check. You have 18.2 seconds. Good Luck.”

Katara was quick to run, as lightly as she could through the shadows, to the left wing of the museum.

“2.2 check.” Zuko’s voice muttered in her ear.

Katara bit her lip and slipped under a rope and down stairs. She came around a small corner and about screamed. A Blue Spirit mask turned and tilted in the darkness. Katara pressed a hand to her beating heart.  “1.2 check.” She said breathlessly.

“12 seconds.”

Perfect.

Katara felt the peak of her adrenaline run through her. Her heart beat wildly and her hands felt steady. Sure, this wasn’t her thing, but she was becoming quiet addicted to it.

Zuko placed a small laser knife in her hand. Katara cut a sizeable square from right underneath the egg. Katara cut a square over top of the egg. She pushed on the first square making a small piece fall. Zuko was quick to catch it. The egg fell with a soft thud between two slices of the podium it sat on. Katara took out her stencil and a lipstick.

“Is this really time to put on lipstick?”

“7 seconds.”

Katara shook her head and sprayed to fill in the next block that fell from the podium. She pulled her stencil away with a smile. “Catch.” Katara pushed one last time and out rolled the large egg. “Carry it for me, Zuzu?”

“Fuck you.” Zuko whispered.

“3.5 seconds guys!” Toph yelled in her ear.

“3.1 check.” Katara took off down another hall way.

That was one thing Katara loved about museums, way too many ways in, way too many ways out. Katara slipped out a back door as Toph said. “Zero.”

Katara let out a breath and ran through the garden area and through the shadows of the moonless night. She heard footsteps behind her and then two loud shots. Katara hit the ground.

“Kat?!”

Zuko’s voice cried out over the com in her ear. “Katara! Are you okay?”

Katara rubbed at her side. It hurt really bad. And what was that sticky stuff? Great Storm Goddess. Katara tried to blink back into focus. But there was yelling through her bluetooth. Sometimes sounding like her name sometimes it made promises to find her and to just stay.

And as Katara pulled something from her side. She wondered where she was suppose to stay. Here? Katara mentally shrugged. Or maybe stay home? Katara mentally shrugged again.

“My,  my, I finally got you my little Painted Lady.”

Katara woke up with someone shaking her and a horrible headache. Her side hurt and when she went to touch it it felt huge. Gran Gran was not going to like stitching her up this time.

“Kat. Come on.” A voice urged and shook her shoulders again. “Come on. Katara.”

“Zuko?”

Was that her voice? Great waves Yue. She sounded terrible.

“Yes. Kat now come on.” Zuko wrapped an arm around her.

She let out a loud yelp and a curse. “That hurts!”

“Shh.” Zuko slammed a hand over her mouth. “Kat we have to go.”

“Go? Go where?” Katara shook her head.

She had made it back to the clubhouse, right? Katara looked around. That’s not the clubhouse. Where was she?

“Pirates.” Zuko pulled her up and close to his body.

Katara let out a laugh, “Yeah and I’m a moon spirit. Zuko, pirates don’t exist anymore.”

Zuko shook his head. “Come on. We have to get out of here”

“My side hurts.” Katara whined and she felt her feet drag when she tried to take a step. She glared down at her feet. Why weren’t they working?

“I don’t know what they shot you with.” Zuko lowered himself slightly before swinging her up and into his arms. “So we have to get you to a hospital fast.”

“Ha. You ain’t going anywhere with her boy.”

Katara’s and Zuko’s head turned to the man standing a few feet away. Zuko was quick to pull something from his back and throw it. Causing both of them to move off balance but a throwing star was stuck in the middle of the guys forehead.

Katara let out a low whistle. “I donsh eber wantchn to bee on yer ba sigh.”

“Fuck.” Zuko ran. His footsteps falling silently as he ran.

And he ran really fast in Katara’s fogged up head. Maybe he has wings? Wait do spirits have wings? Katara’s head pounded with a headache. “Zuko. I don’t feel good.”

“I know.” Zuko’s breath came out heavily. “I know. But I got to get you to a hospital.”

Katara clutched at Zuko’s chest. “No. Painted Lady and Blue Spirit can’t be seen together. Not in a hospital. Not with egg…” Katara felt herself lose consciousness. Well at least her head didn’t feel nearly as bad.

When Katara tried to opened her eyes, they hurt and sting like she had cried for seven days straight. Her throat kind of burnt too. And what the fuck is that attached to my fingers? Katara wiggled her fingers to get them to be free. She blinked at the brightness in the room and looked over to her hand.

Another hand was clasped around it. Much paler than Sokka’s or Dad’s. Maybe Aang’s? No they didn’t have that many veins and the skin color was wrong.

“Katara?” Zuko’s voice flitted into her head. Was that her bluetooth? “Kat?” Katara blinked and looked up the arms to where Zuko sat by her bed. Zuko stood and shouted to someone. He wrapped his arms tightly around Katara. “Fuck, we thought we lost you.”

“Lost?” Katara’s throat scratched.

Zuko was quick to thrust a cup in her hand. “It’s honey lemon. Drink.”

Katara took a sip of its warmth and coughed. “Thank you.” She coughed again. Katara took another drink and actually swallowed. “What do you mean lost? Where am I? We?”

“My uncle’s.” Zuko stood quickly and yelled out. “He’s a doctor and a teaholic but we are working on that last part.”

Katara put a hand to her head. “What the… What happened?” Katara scratched her head. What day was it? Where was she? And where was the… “Egg! Zuko the egg!”

Zuko turned to her with a shake of his head. “I thought Aang was lying about the whole ‘married to her job’ thing.” He smirked and a large man came in.

He didn’t look much like Zuko and had much more gentler vibes about him. “Katara.” Katara wanted to cry on how she said her name. If she ever had a grandfather. Katara definitely wanted him to look something like this. “My name is Iroh.”

“Katara.” Katara nodded to him.

“Katara, do you know what happened?” Iroh asked.

And Katara thought. Hard. “Uh I remember the egg. Getting it and handing it off.” She looked to Zuko for some help. “Um… It’s fuzzy but I remember running away.”

“That’s when she was shot.” Zuko nodded and Iroh copied his nephew’s action.

“Katara.” Iroh took Katara’s hand in a gentle matter. “You were shot with a dart. It must have been dipped in something nastily poisonous.”

“A dart?” Katara’s other hand went to where her side slightly throbbed.

“By a pirate.” Zuko added in. “And yes they still exist. Just like your great moon spirit.” Zuko crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

“Huh?” Katara felt confused.

“Rest. We’ll explain it all later.” Iroh patted her hand and left.

Zuko stepped back to her side and took her hand. He lifted her fingers to his lips. “I thought we had seriously lost you, Kat.”

Katara wasn’t certain before but she was most deathly positive that someone had spiked that tea, because here Zuko was, the Blue Spirit, the most well trained assassin, kissing her fingertips. “Lost means I can be found.”

“And I’m so glad I found you when I did.”

Katara felt her heart pick up speed, at the double meaning. She closed her eyes as Zuko pressed his lips to her knuckles again. If the adrenaline that ran through her every time her hands wrapped around a new item was addictive. Zuko’s lips and the way her heart sped up was whatever came after addictive. And even then she knew, that was the moment she felt herself, the Painted Lady, fall for the Blue Spirit.

Forever together, Partners in Crime!

#zuko #katara #blue spirit #painted lady #zuko x katara fic #blue spirit x painted lady fic #short fic #partners in crime au #so much fun #non smut #thanks for the prompt

[sapphicscholar]

I know you've kind of done this already in Tabula Rasa, but could you maybe write a fic where some of the Superfriends end up in a parallel Earth where all of the Superfriends (or at least most, I'd love to see another version of evil Alex for sure. Maybe a version of her who became evil even without working for a xenophobic DEO? IDK) are evil? (This prompt may or may not be inspired by my annoyance at the plot of the crossover...)

I just posted it to AO3! 

A/N:Ugh yes, we can all be annoyed at the crossover… Since I already did an actual evil alternate universe in Tabula Rasa, I went full on campy evil for this one (think Lucy Diamond in DEBS) that’s largely inspired by my earlier musings here. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy and sorry it took me a while to get to it! I’m finally going through some old prompt requests now that I’ve got a bit of time in these quiet few days at work.

Chapter Text

“Not again,” Alex hissed as the monitors flickered to black before flashing back up now covered in full color, high resolution photos of her from high school: black choker around her neck, black vest on, striped tie looped around the waist of her low-rise jeans, and some heavy black eyeliner to top off the whole punk rock aesthetic.

“You’ve got company headed up in 5,” James informed her, ignoring the litany of increasingly obscene threats crackling through his earpiece.

“Then get your little boyfriend on the phone and tell him to knock it the fuck off,” Alex growled, waiting for the inevitable refutation of their relationship, the insistence that they “don’t do labels.”

Even as he protested, James dialed Winn.

“Hello?” Winn answered, the poorly disguised snicker proof enough that he was behind the hack.

“C’mon man, we let Lucy have her heist last night without issue. Let Alex back into the system.”

“You’re getting off too easily,” Winn huffed.

“And I can guarantee you won’t get off at all tonight if you don’t call this off,” James threatened.

“You’re the worst.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

“You know how much shit I’m gonna get from Vasquez if I give in this quickly?”

“What if we promise not to ruin their date night with Lucy this week?”

Winn paused, deliberating for a few minutes. “That I can work with.”

“Thanks, man.”

“See you tonight?”

“My place or yours?”

“James!” Alex growled, her voice startling him.

“Mine,” he quickly answered Winn, hanging up to refocus his attention on Alex. “You should be back in any second now.”

“Not dating my ass.” Alex continued trying to circumvent the active hack until suddenly it disappeared, the screens flashing back to the museum security feed she’d been trying to overwrite when Winn and Vasquez decided to play their little prank. “I’m back.”

“Good. You’ve got about two minutes.”

“Only need one.”

“That’s my girl,” Maggie chimed in, her voice barely audible over the sound of her motorcycle roaring to life.

“Always.”

“Now who’s being gross?” James teased, following Maggie’s location through her motorcycle’s GPS tracker.

“Still you,” came Alex and Maggie’s voices in unison.

“And we’re…clear!” Alex cheered, slinging the long cardboard tube over her back, wiping the keyboard even though she was wearing gloves, and bolting for the back exit where the security cameras were still under repair.

“Three, two, one,” James counted down, watching as Alex and Maggie’s blinking red GPS lights got closer and closer together.

“Hey babe,” Alex rasped, throwing on the spare helmet and straddling the back of Maggie’s bike. “Take me home. You know how I get after a good heist.”

“You still have to come here first!” James yelled, hoping he wouldn’t have to go over in the middle of the night to interrupt them…again.

“I’m thinking diamonds,” Lucy mused, her teeth nipping at Vasquez’s earlobes and her hips grinding down into their lap.

“Mm, yeah?” Vasquez asked, not trying particularly hard to pay much attention to their girlfriend’s words. At this stage, they were always just ideas, liable to change with a moment’s notice—often to thwart Alex’s latest ploy. They were just grateful that the rivalry had turned (mainly) friendly over the years. Back before Alex started dating Maggie, the two had been at each other’s throats,  more often focused on ruining the other’s heists than on actually accomplishing anything themselves. But now that Alex had a “mission statement,” which Lucy loved to scoff at, even though she liked to boast about how she operated within her own code of honor, they’d come to an uneasy truce that involved more playful attempts at sabotage that rarely turned violent these days.

“Can you two not do that in the van?” Winn whined. “This is my space—my sacred space.”

“You said that about your lab too,” Vasquez pointed out.

“Yeah, Schott, you only get one. Pick wisely.”

“Just don’t—keep your clothes on, alright?”

“No promises.”

“Why do I tolerate you two?”

“Because otherwise you’d be sitting in a lab full of perfect inventions without the daring to go use them yourself?” Vasquez offered.

“You’d have this van all rigged for surveillance with no one to watch for?” Lucy chimed in.

“You’d know how to make targeted explosions and decoys and holograms but never see them put to their best uses?”

“You’d—”

“Okay! Okay, I get it. You two are the muscle.”

“And the looks.”

“And the courage.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” Vasquez said, shaking their head. “C’mon, who would actually know enough about computers to hack me if you left?”

“I guess,” Winn sighed melodramatically. “So you said diamonds…want me to start looking up possible targets?”

“I know just the one.”

“That so?”

Lucy nodded. “Oh yeah. She has more money than anyone in National City—just enough for some forcible sharing, I think.”

“Love the way you think,” Vasquez said, placing a kiss on Lucy’s cheek.

“Wait. You’re gonna try to rob Cat and Astra?” Winn asked, his mouth gaping.

“What? No, I don’t have a death wish,” Lucy laughed. “Besides, they’re already fighting the good fight.”

“Ah yes, that Lucy Lane patented code of honor.”

Holding two fingers up, Vasquez repeated in a military-esque monotone: “Criminals with honor do not harm or steal from other criminals with honor.”

“Damn straight.”

“And so how do you justify messing with Alex?” Winn asked.

“That sense of honor is still new. And these days I don’t harm her—just inconvenience her.”

“Fine,” Winn gave in. “But who’s richer than Cat and Astra?”

“Lena Luthor.”

—

The next morning, Alex carefully brushed away a speck of almost imperceptible dust from the broad shoulders of James’ suit jacket, watching in the mirror as he straightened his jacket and tightened the knot of his tie just a hair. Maggie handed him his phone and gun once Alex got his cufflinks fastened.

With a charming (and perfectly disarming) smile and wink, James slung the tube over his shoulder. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck when you look like that,” Maggie teased, swatting at James as he walked toward the front door, putting an extra swing in his step and letting out a deep laugh at the teasing wolf whistles and catcalls Alex and Maggie sent his way.

“We’ll be in the area if you need us, alright?” Alex added, her expression morphing into a more serious one.

“I know you’ve got my back, Alex.”

“Always.”

Within half an hour, James’ town car pulled up in front of the buyer’s restored nineteenth-century brownstone where he’d agreed to meet them—the hominess of it all somehow helping their genteel clientele to assuage their guilt over purchasing stolen artwork.

“Mr. Kent?” a middle-aged woman answered the door.

“At your service,” James replied with a small dip of his head and an easy smile that had her cheeks flushing a faint pink. “Can I ask your name?”

“Oh, I’m not the one you want to see.”

“On the contrary. You’re the very first one I’ve seen, which must make you someone worth knowing.” James smiled as any sense of wariness dissipated, the woman clearly charmed by him.

“I’m Katarina. I work for Morgan Edge.”

“Well it is my deepest pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Yes, I, uh, yes,” she stammered, mumbling her way through a few pleasantries before finally guiding him out of the entrance room. “Come right this way.” He followed her through a long hallway until they reached the home office in the back.

“Mr. Edge, it’s so nice to meet in person,” James greeted the man.

“I see you brought my newest acquisition.”

Right to business apparently, James thought. “I did. I assume you’ll want to see it first.”

As he pulled the tube over his shoulders, Katarina returned, a small mug clutched in her hands. “I brought your espresso.”

“Thank you,” James said, his deep voice rumbling over the disgruntled huff of Morgan’s complaints about her always interrupting his meetings. He paused for a moment to sip at it. “Always better to enjoy while it’s hot,” he added by way of explanation. “And it is excellent, Katarina.”

“Well, if you ever find yourself in need of a fix…”

“You’ll be the first person I call.” Sensing Morgan’s growing frustration, he turned back to the tube, slipping on a pair of gloves to pull out the painting.

Morgan leaned in closely, magnifying glass in hand as he inspected a few areas—always the same ones, James thought to himself, almost disappointed by the predictability of it all. After several long minutes, Morgan nodded. “It will be the perfect piece for my study.”

“And now it’s my turn to inspect.” James carefully rolled the painting up once more and stuck it back in the tube.

“Of course.” Morgan handed over a briefcase full to the rim with stacks of bills before turning back to his desk. With the painting strapped to his back for safekeeping, James checked the totals, then ran the special detecting pen Alex had invented to find fake money by scanning the chemical makeup of the ink and paper over the edges of the bills.

When Morgan turned again, already demanding to know what the holdup was, he found a gun pointed between his eyes. “And what do you think you’re doing?” he growled. “In my own home? I’ll have the police here before you can even think of pulling that trigger.”

“Oh, I don’t think you will. At least not when you’re buying stolen art and trying to pay me with counterfeit bills.”

“They’re perfectly real,” Morgan scoffed, pulling out one of top stacks.

“No, no.” Shaking his head, James pulled out the stacks beneath it. “The rest of it.”

Looking slightly inconvenienced but not at all abashed about having been caught, Morgan unlocked his safe and pulled out another briefcase, which James inspected thoroughly. Finally convinced that they were real, James added the top layer of real bills from the other briefcase to the new one—“for the trouble you put me through”—and handed off the painting, slowly backing out of the room, gun still pointed at the man until he was out of sight.

—

“Deal’s done,” came James’ voice through the intercom once he was safe in the town car again. “You need backup?”

“Nah, this part is the easiest,” Maggie answered, grinning over at Alex, who was leaning heavily against the wall of the warehouse, barely stifling her tired yawns. “Looks like I wore you out last night, babe.”

“More like Lucy did,” Alex huffed. “I’m so sick of having to deal with the added stress of her shit.”

“Oh please, you two keep each other sharp.”

Before their bickering could escalate—or turn into the heated makeup sex they favored—they heard the door creak open, and Alex smiled as Maggie greeted the first man through the door in perfect Spanish. They never used names, but she still felt close to him, a level of loyalty she afforded to very few of her other clients.

“I believe we have something that belongs to you,” she said, switching back to English when the rest of the group joined them.

“Already?”

“We’re nothing if not efficient,” Alex chimed in.

“Why?” one of the women in the group asked. She was new, Maggie noted, and rightfully suspicious of a gift that seemed to come with no strings attached.

“I don’t take kindly to my country profiting off of stolen artwork. I’m simply…expediting the process of repatriation.”

The woman scoffed. “And your country is okay with this?”

“Was yours when we stole the art in the first place?”

“And there are no strings attached?”

“Ah, well, I do like a nice bottle of wine—I’m partial to reds, and my partner here likes a dry wine.”

“Anything for you,” the man from before added, tipping his head to Maggie before taking the tube from her. “As always, thank you.”

“Anytime.”

—

“Have I mentioned lately how much I love having shapeshifters for friends?” Kara asked, throwing an arm around J’onn’s shoulders and reaching a hand out to M’gann. “Because I really, really do.”

“Whatever we can do to help Lena’s shelter—just say the word,” J’onn said.

“As long as you never say a word, then we’ll be just fine.”

“I still don’t see why the girl won’t let her good deeds be known,” M’gann mused, letting go of Kara’s hand to settle back in behind the bar.

“It’s harder to blackmail rich bad guys when you’re not invited around anymore because the Luthor last name has lost all meaning.”

“You’re the one that collects half the dirt with your powers, though.”

“But I wouldn’t know where to go digging if it weren’t for Lena’s first steps. Plus, you know how she enjoys siphoning off Luthor Corp funds. It’d be less fun if she had to spend her own money.”

“You know we’re mindreaders, right?” J’onn asked, arching an eyebrow at Kara.

“You can’t read mine,” Kara countered.

“No,” M’gann admitted, “but we know that your little girlfriend donates half of her personal income to charities every year.”

Kara groaned. “Don’t tell her you know, okay? She doesn’t want people knowing about it—once people know, it ruins it for her.”

“Whatever you say…”

“It’s not like you want people to know you’ve been volunteering to keep her refugee center running either.”

“No one would willingly enter a center run in part by a White Martian, especially one who shapeshifts to steal and infiltrate the local police units.”

“And you think that they’d send their kids off to play with a Luthor?”

“Point taken.”

“Anyway, are you two coming over for dinner tonight?”

“Not tonight, sorry,” J’onn apologized. “We’re a little short-staffed at the bar, and you know how Friday nights can get.”

“But next time, we promise,” M’gann added, reaching over to give Kara a hug before she left.

—

“We should really get going,” Astra sighed, even as she lifted her arms to allow her shirt to be removed. “Wouldn’t want to be late.” Her breath hitched at the feeling of teeth nipping at her neck and nimble fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper of her black pants.

“She’s not my niece,” Cat shrugged. “Besides, I’ve always preferred to be fashionably late.”

“And yet if I’m just a minute late for dinner…”

“I. Do. Not. Wait.” Cat declared, punctuating her words with harder bites, wishing she could leave some kind of mark on that flawless skin.

“I always make it worth your while, though,” Astra drawled, easily flipping them so that Cat was on her back, her breathing ragged and her chest flushed a faint pink.

“Last night you didn’t.”

“Last night I had the chance to sabotage the newest oil pipeline, darling. I don’t complain when your work comes first.” Astra’s fingers trailed up Cat’s thighs, gently pushing up the hem of her dress.

“I know, I know. It’s just a shame—you know my fingers, talented as they might be, just don’t compare to your tongue.”

“Well, why don’t we get dressed for dinner with Kara, and when we get back, I’ll make it up to you threefold.”

“I suppose I could be amenable to those terms if you let us take the car to dinner tonight.”

“But flying is so environmentally friendly.”

“It’s windy.”

“I’ll shield you.”

“We drive a hybrid.”

“Fine,” Astra finally relented.

—

Looking around the table, Kara couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her friends and family all gathered together, laughing as Maggie regaled them with tales of Alex’s latest misadventures with Lucy, Vasquez, and Winn. As much as Alex complained about the lot of them, she knew better than to believe that she truly hated them. After all, it had been Lucy and Alex who’d willingly put aside their differences to bring down Non when Astra’s life was in jeopardy, then again when Max Lord came for Kara herself. Plus, she doubted that Alex would voluntarily spend hours sifting through childhood photos of someone she truly despised, even if she was looking only for the most embarrassing ones.

“What matters,” Alex finally cut in when it seemed like Maggie was just one step away from pulling out the photos for a show and tell, “is that we made it out just fine.”

“Which is why we’re letting Lucy have her little date night tonight without any interruptions from us.”

The laughter that filled the room was soon cut off as both Kara and Astra sprung to their feet.

“We have company,” Astra hissed. Within moments, everyone in the room had at least one weapon drawn, all of which were pointed at the intruder that Astra whisked in through the balcony window and unceremoniously threw to the floor.

“Lucy?” Alex gasped, seeing the telltale full body black leather suit she wore when she went out on her little cat burglary missions.

“The hell, Danvers? I thought you were gonna let me have my date night.”

“Since when is your date night crashing my family dinner?”

“Since when is Luthor family?”

“Since she started dating me,” Kara just about growled, crossing her arms and stepping protectively in front of Lena. “And if you’re here to hurt her, you’re gonna have to fight your way through each and every one of us first.”

“And you know better than to touch my sister,” Alex added, her tone sharp as she let her gaze flick pointedly to the gun in her hand.

“Since when do you protect the rich?” Lucy asked, turning her attention to Maggie, figuring she was the best bet for an ally—she had the whole Robin Hood schtick down to an art.

“When the rich are giving more money away than I could even if I managed a heist every day.” Lena began to object, but Maggie waved off her protests. “Alex hacked into your accounts the first time she found you and her sister in bed together. Be lucky that’s all we found.”

“If you’re so charitable, why have you been ordering millions of dollars’ worth of diamonds?” Lucy demanded.

“Most of them will be sent back to the communities they were stolen from,” Lena huffed. “I might be a villain—”

“Hardly,” Maggie scoffed. “Blackmailing the worst of your one-percenter pals with your girlfriend, stealing from your family’s evil company—they hardly make you a villain.”

Lena just rolled her eyes. “Fine. But, since the surprise is sort of ruined now…” Turning to face Kara, Lena dropped down to one knee. “Kara Danvers, the months I’ve spent with you have been some of the best ones of my life. There’s no one I’d rather extort and blackmail with than you. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes!” Kara gasped, dropping down to her knees as well and pulling Lena into a passionate kiss that may well have gone on much too long to be appropriate in front of family, friends, and intruders were it not for the loud whooshing sound and the way the whole floor seemed to shake.

“The hell did you bring with you, Lane?” Alex growled.

“It wasn’t—” But Lucy didn’t have time to finish her thoughts before a large silvery portal opened up, and doppelgangers of Kara, Alex, Maggie, and Winn thumped to the floor, looking more than a little taken aback at the sight of so many people and weapons surrounding them.

“Who are you?” Kara finally demanded, glaring at the intruders, letting her eyes burn red.

“Um, I think we’re you…from another Earth—Earth-38 to be specific,” the new Kara volunteered. “We were over on Earth-1 helping out some friends, but we had to leave in a hurry, and I think maybe we set up the breech incorrectly…”

“No shit,” Alex growled, looking closely at her Earth-38 counterpart and refusing to lower her weapon.

At that moment, Lucy’s earpiece crackled to life with Vasquez and Winn’s worried questions. “I’m up in the apartment…whole story there. But, uh, we’ve got company, and I think you’re gonna want to see this.”

—

Earth-38 Winn scoffed at his doppelganger, having found himself increasingly disgusted as he heard him joking about heists and devious inventions. “How could you? After everything that happened with our dad?”

“After everything that happened, how could you not?” his evil counterpart shot back. “You watched him lose everything—his career, his money, his inventions, his wife, his love for life, his desire to live. How can you justify sitting back and doing nothing to avenge him?”

“Somehow I don’t think a murderer losing his love of life while he rots in prison really rises to the level of vengeance-worthy crimes against humanity.”

“Prison?”

“For murder.”

“What do you mean? He didn’t do anything. He let his boss take credit for his inventions, rolled over each and every time until he had nothing worth fighting for, nothing worth living for.”

Winn stood there blinking. “I…that—that’s not what happened on my Earth.”

—

Across the room, Maggie and Alex sat together, watching as their Kara and Winn worked with the other Earth’s more tech-oriented folks to try to make sure that any new breeches wouldn’t send them to yet another Earth that might be even less friendly toward them.

“You didn’t seem surprised that your doppelganger isn’t the paragon of virtue,” Maggie noted.

“I’m not.”

“Why’s that?”

Alex shrugged. “I’m not Kara. I’ve killed before, and I likely will again. I do the things that need to be done. I’ve never been a saint.”

“But you’re no villain.”

“But to have lost things like that…this Alex had both of her parents taken away and was left with another girl who had lost her whole world, who didn’t get a loving, supportive family to raise her. Instead she was left with me—some bitter teenage rebel who wanted nothing more than to see this world pay for its crimes.” Alex shook her head; it was impressive that they’d ended up as decent as they had. Sure, her counterpart had stolen and lied, but she’d never descended to murder or kidnapping or anything of that nature. She suspected Kara had something to do with it; even if this version of Supergirl was willing to claim power in a way hers never had, was willing to kill when it came down to it in a fight, she still fought for justice, still fought for good.

Regarding Maggie, Alex added, “You’re not exactly stunned yourself.”

“If I didn’t have an aunt to take me in, of course I’d have turned to petty theft. Plus, Robin Hood was my favorite Disney movie…”

Alex laughed. “I guess even here you’ve got a pretty deep-rooted sense of justice.”

“Yeah. And here you’ve got an undercut,” Maggie added, veering them toward lighter topics. “It’s pretty hot.”

“I really hope you’re not suggesting some threesome.”

With a loud bark of a laugh, Maggie shook her head. “Not in the slightest. Just, you know, if you ever wanted to change up your look…”

#ask me #anon #fanfic #prompt fill #supervillain au #supergirl #sanvers #supercorp #scholsen #cat x astra #j'onn x m'gann #campy af #crack #alex danvers #maggie sawyer #james olsen #lucy x vasquez #nb!vasquez #lucy lane #susan vasquez #winn schott #astra in-ze #cat grant #J'onn J'onzz #kara danvers #lena luthor #m'gann m'orzz #ao3feed

[robininthelabyrinth]

I know you've already got a pile of prompts, but I had this idea pop in my head the other day and I thought I'd send it to you. What if Oculus!Len, when he comes back, returns as a sort of time vampire? Basically instead of needing blood to feed on, he feeds on the temporal energy that surrounds time travelers... Can you imagine Eobard's surprise should he try and recruit that Len? Or the Legends when they find out?

I’ve started a new ‘tumblr fills’ entry on Ao3 so that I can start to fill a bunch of my prompts again at last, so if you’ve sent me a prompt in the last…forever…keep an eye out, you never know. This one is short and not quite the prompt, but I hope you like it, anon!

ao3 link

————–

It wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened.

It’s pretty bad, yes, but it’s not the worst possible thing.

He could be dead.

Technically, Len reflects wryly, he is dead.

He’s just also a leech.

A leech currently swimming through the whole goddamn time stream trying to find his particular group of time travelers, but a leech nonetheless.

Len hadn’t known that creatures that fed on temporal energy – all sorts, regular people and time travelers and speedsters and sometimes timepieces - even existed, much less that he could turn into one of them if he got 'frozen’ in a massive outpouring of temporal energy.

Frozen, because technically Len’s body is still back there, frozen in that eternal moment of exploding.

Center of a black hole, baby.

A singularity that sucks in even time.

That singularity sucked in Len and the rest of the Time Masters, and a lot of that structure, and it dumped them in the Topsy-Turvy.

Well, that’s what Len’s been calling it, anyway. It’s not quite another universe, not quite a reflection, but boy does Len feel like he went through the looking glass to get there.

The Topsy-Turvy is built on more dimensions than just four, for one thing. Len tries not to think about it too hard, or his head will explode.

Quite literally, as most of the Time Masters found out.

Len had been too busy having a panic attack about what the fuck stupid thing he just did to really pay attention to what was going on, which gave the Creatures enough time to convert him into the leech he is now.

The process had taken only seconds. Len was (is?) now unmoored from his frozen body stuck back in the Topsy-Turvy, able to swim through the time stream like some sort of demented spawning salmon (the Creatures thought Len’s comparisons were hilarious), but condemned to feed off the temporal processes of the living.

If he tried to feed off normal people, they got old.

Sometimes they stayed where they were, sometimes time itself went by and they woke up a good five months or twenty years later, but either way, they lost some of their life.

Luckily, time travelers and speedsters gave off temporal energy like crazy people - more than enough for a leech like him to feed on for a good long while without harming anyone.

Of course, most Creatures from the Topsy-Turvy didn’t really understand the whole concept of consent, and that’s why they were commonly mistaken for monsters. Or, at times, fairies.

Len’s about 90% sure that Rip van Wrinkle was some poor sod who had the misfortune to be some Creature’s first feeding before he figured out which way was up.

He’s somewhat worried that Creature might’ve been him.

It’d taken a while for him to regain his footing.

Luckily, he’s not doing that to anyone else. He steals little bits of time, snacks and bites barely large enough to keep him full; he’s been advised by those with some experience in the matter to just find himself a group of time-travelers to fix things and keep a proper meal with him at all times, but he doesn’t want to just find any group, he wants to find his specific group of time-travelers.

He misses them.

Okay, he’s not going to lie, he mostly misses Mick. And Lisa, though Lisa he managed to catch up with due to her being smart enough to stay in one time and place; Mick, on the other hand, Mick kept up with the time-traveling bucket of bozos for some reason (Len thinks he knows the reason, and feels guilty), and now Len can’t find him.

At least he’s in decent company, Len figures. Jax actually cared about Mick, even when everyone had thought Len had killed him; Sara’s pretty good at cards and has a low-key, friendly way about her – just as long as she’s never put in charge of anything other than tactical strikes, because major strategic decisions make her stress level go through the roof, see example a: Russian gulag; and Ray Palmer keeps trying to be Mick’s buddy.

Len’s sure they’re taking good care of Mick. Mick needs the care – he’s more fragile than people think, softness hiding underneath his thick tough hide, and he likes being able to rely on people he trusts to guide him; that’s usually Len’s job, but Len’s still struggling with this whole 'not a human’ thing and it’ll be good to have some support.

The crew – they call themselves ‘Legends’ or something, which sounds more like a Fall Out Boy song than a proper team name – will be taking good care of Mick.

And, well, if they’re not, he can always eat them.

Len will figure it out once he finds them.

Which is taking longer than expected.

For one thing, all of time and space is a pretty damn big haystack to find a needle.

For another, Len’s still not a hundred percent on this whole 'Creature in the regular world’ business.

The Creatures are pretty good about taking care of him whenever he flees the usual universe to take refuge in the Topsy-Turvy, which he did pretty often at first and still every once in a while now when he just gets plain overwhelmed, but they didn’t really understand humans. Ninth-dimensional possibly Lovecraftian beings just didn’t have the life experience to connect with people like Len.

Len’s lonely.

And worse, he’s pretty sure Mick still thinks he’s dead.

Besides, of the whole slew of people who ended up dragged into the singularity with him, most are dead (see: head blowing up) and only about half a dozen survived the conversion process.

The Creatures encouragingly say that their 2% survival rate is the best they’ve had in millennia.

Of course, the Creatures also then pitted them against each other in death matches and bet on it - forget math, gambling is universal - which narrowed the numbers a bit further.

Basically, Len and some guy named Booster are the only ones left, and they cordially detest each other in a way that only two people frantically clinging to each other because they’re the only two things that remember what being human is like while being stuck in a world full of mathematically improbable monsters can.

For one thing, Booster reminds Len of some awful conglomeration of Ray Palmer and Rip Hunter.

For another, they’ve been literally sharing the one human-style bed the Creatures managed to create for them for nearly a year. It’s a narrow single and they’re both grown men.

Len would categorize them as friends, but friends that would be deeply, deeply relieved if they never had to spend more than ten minutes in each other’s presence ever again.

They work much better communicating long-distance.

And, of course, speak of the devil and he appears -

“You found them yet?” Booster asks. His voice just appears in Len’s ear, just like having one of Rip’s high-end communication devices in if you forget the fact that A, they’re in different times and places and B, there is no communication device.

Stupid fifth-dimensional communication.

“If you don’t have a lead for me, we’re still not talking,” Len tells him.

“I said sorry already! Also, I think I have a lead for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Aruba.”

“I’m not listening.”

“No, wait - I’m serious! This isn’t a sneaky attempt to make you go on vacation!”

“Unlike the last seven times?”

“Not my fault you work too hard. You don’t even have a job, I don’t know why you -”

“Booster.”

“- right, rant over. Anyway. Aruba. 2017. I’m sending pictures now.”

Len reaches into his pocket and pulls out the photographs, carefully not thinking about how they weren’t there a minute ago.

It’s -

It’s them.

They’re in stupid beachwear, and Mick is in the king of stupid beachwear, involving two layers of shirt (one tourist Hawaiian print) and a sarong.

He looks just like he always has, the big goober.

Len’s throat feels tight, and for once it’s not because he forgot to steal people’s coffee break time ('where did the time go?’ they bitch as they head back into the office, 'I feel like I just got out here’).

“Be careful,” Booster warns. “There’s been a lot of weird stuff going on in this period.”

Len nods. “Thanks for the tip,” he says, and then he leaps into the time stream, eeling through green swirls that he breathes in like air, inhuman and leech-like. He hopes Mick doesn’t mind.

And then he’s there.

Aruba. 2017.

Mick.

A set of time travelers that Len can stick with and drain slow, or - if they piss off Len and his newfound claustrophobia - visit occasionally while he uses the Flash’s endless collection of speedsters as his main source of substance.

Mick.

Len isn’t entirely how to explain what’s happened and how he turned into a temporal leech-thing (time vampire, Booster calls them) without going into eighth-dimensional mathematical concepts, but he can’t wait to give it a try.

Mick Rory, here I come.

#dccoldwave #tumblr fills #mick rory #leonard snart #booster gold #my fic

[jilyyall]

prompt: we're neighbours/live in the same flat? and it's raining and you've left your clothes out on the line and its CHUCKING it down

Thanks for the prompt! :) It got away from me a bit and ended up twice as long as I planned for it to be, but that’s really not much of a surprise!Read the very smutty sequel here.

It’s just something that I want to do

“For fuck sake, not again!” Lily shouted and aimed awell-placed kick at her dryer, which had apparently decided to crap out for the fifth time this month, and promptly collapsed tothe ground clutching at her throbbing foot which was probably broken now. Itwould be just her luck and it would perfectly top off the shittiest day imaginable.

It had even started off terribly, which most of her shittydays did not – usually it was the type of awful that crept up on you, the kindyou didn’t see coming, that hid behind a normal, every day morning, and thenhit you quite suddenly and left you reeling. That was what had happened the dayher parents had announced their divorce when she was fifteen. It was even howshe had felt when her sister had sent her that nasty text telling her that shewas no longer welcome in her wedding party because she had disagreed with Petunia’s fiancé. FuckingBrexiters.

No, today had started out terribly. Today, Lily had woken uplate for work for the first time ever, had arrived over an hour late withouteven being able to stop for coffee on her way in, and had to listen to hergod-awful cow of an editor berate herfor something which, admittedly, was actually her fault for once.

Usually, when Rita – Ms.Skeeter – went off on Lily, it was for something ridiculous and unavoidablelike when the Prime Minister had refused to give a quote to the Daily Prophetduring yet another disastrous press conference and Rita had decided it wasLily’s fault even though Lily hadn’t even been at the press conference.

To make matters worse, she had agreed to meet up with an oldfriend for lunch, apparently having forgotten that she had cut ties withSeverus Snape three years ago for a reason. She had sat through forty-fiveminutes of him making thinly veiled racist remarks whilst brazenly praising TomRiddle, a divisive politician about whom Lily had written numerous scathingarticles in the past three months alone before she had made her excuses toleave.

She’d had a few minutes to spare before she had to be backat work since she had ditched Severus at the restaurant early and so haddecided to stop for coffee. She had thought it would be a good pick-me-up, thatit would turn her day around. It hadn’t. The barista, a first year uni studentby the looks of her, had made her order wrong twice before finally getting it right and once she finally had hercinnamon latte in hand, an impatient man crossing the road next to her hadjostled her arm and made her spill her drink all down the front of her whitedress.

It was at that point that Lily had pulled her cell phone outof her purse and sent a text to her editor telling her that she would befinishing her work from home for the day. It wasn’t worth risking a phone calland having to listen to Rita say something that rubbed her the wrong way. Nottoday, when God only knew how much more Lily could take before reaching herbreaking point.

So Lily had stopped at the shop on her way home, figuringthat if a coffee hadn’t improved her day, a glass of wine was her next bestoption. And if that didn’t do the trick, then the whole bottle would have todo.

It was only one o’clock when she had gotten home, so she haddecided to at least pretend to be a responsible adult and fold her laundrybefore getting drunk off wine in the middle of the day. Now here she was, collapsed on the floor with a definitely broken foot in front of her broken dryer full of wetclothing, which was going to mildew if she didn’t take care of it right away.Sighing, she heaved herself to standing, tested her weight on her injured footand decided that, okay, it probably wasn’t actually broken, and gathered thewet clothing from her useless dryer.

At least she still had the clothesline strung across herback garden, she thought as she limped out the back door. It didn’t take herlong to hang her laundry – it was a rather small load and her wardrobe mostly consistedof no-iron dresses. It was quiet work; her fit neighbour’s equally fit friendwasn’t staying with him this week – not that she paid either of them anyattention, honestly – so she didn’t have to listen to the friend calling her Red and telling her neighbour she wasfit and he should make a move already. Even better, her clothes wouldn’t reekof cigarette smoke after a few hours.

Honestly, how he put up with his friend – she had yet tolearn either of their names yet as he had only moved in a couple months ago –was beyond her. The one who actually lived there didn’t seem particularly happywith his friend whenever he made those comments that were clearly meant to beoverheard, and she had never seen him smoking either. She had wondered at firstif it was a friendship of convenience, if they had known each other for so longthat not being friends was too frightening and foreign a concept for them toentertain. She had been there, once, after all, so she thought she couldunderstand if that was the case. Then, one day, the friend had showed up in abad way, bloody and bruised and clearly badly injured, and Lily had noticed but definitely not watched her neighbourpractically nurse him back to health over the course of a couple of weeks.Clearly there was more there than convenience.

She pondered this as she poured herself a glass of wine. Shehad friends – there was Marlene, who she had drinks with every Saturday night,and Benjy from work, and Emmeline, with whom she had lunch every otherWednesday, and Dorcas, who had moved to America after uni and skyped in withher and Marlene and sometimes Emmeline once a month – but Lily didn’t thinkthere was anyone she was close enough with to have them move into her house fora few weeks, anyone she would be willing to nurse back to health after anaccident. All of her friends had families, after all, who they would turn tofirst.

The worse realization was that she had no one who wouldwillingly do for her what her neighbour had done for his friend. Obviously, herfamily and her friends wouldn’t let her die if anything happened to her. Theywould certainly check in with her, make sure she was coping well, but shedoubted they would so selflessly and willingly allow her to take up residencein their home.

She frowned as she nursed her wine and began to drift offthere on her couch, thinking about her friends, whom she loved, truly, but alsoabout her neighbour, whom she didn’t actually know but now, half a bottle ofwine in and unconsciousness overtaking her, could admit she wanted to.

Several hours later, she woke to the sound of rain pouringdown outside. It was dark now, not because it was late – it was only about fouro’clock, according to her iPhone – but because of the thunderstorm. Shestretched, arms above her head, feet reaching towards the arm of the couch, andthen rolled to her feet. Pulling the blanket off the back of the couch as she madeher way towards the window overlooking her front garden, she wrapped herself upnice and cozy and smiled for the first time that day.

She loved the rain, always had. She loved how everythingslowed down, all but stopped, outside when she sky opened up. She had alwaysbeen fond of curling up in a window with a blanket, a book, and a steaming mugof tea and losing herself in a different sort of world. After the day she hadendured, that seemed like the only fitting way to spend the afternoon now. A dark figure caught her attention before she could turn away to fetch herkettle and she realized with a skittering heart that none other than hermysterious, fit neighbour was sprinting through her garden. She watched,stunned, as he leapt up onto her porch and stood there for a moment, armoutstretched, fist frozen above her door. She waited, hidden behind the blinds,as he fought some kind of internalized battle and finally rapped his knucklesagainst the door, a quick, firm, loud, confidentsound. After a brief pause – she didn’t want to betray the fact that she hadwatched him the entire time – she opened the door to peer up at him.

He wasn’t wearing his glasses. That was the first thoughtthat crossed her mind. They kept a fairly similar schedule, leaving for workaround the same time every day, and he usually returned home about a half hourafter her. On her days off, she usually still woke up early out of habit andtook her coffee out on her front porch just in time to watch him leave hishouse for a run. She saw him every day, at least once a day and although theyhad never spoken, she had still noticed that he never left the house withouthis glasses on. Glasses were probably pretty useless in the rain, though, sherationalized.

“Hello?” she said softly when he merely looked at her. Sheran her fingers through her hair, wondering why he looked almost dazed at thesight of her. She hadn’t looked in the mirror before she had opened the door,but she probably should have; it wasn’t as if she had a tendency to wake uplooking flawless.

“Er – hi. Sorry,” he shook himself off and Lily couldn’tdecide if he was shaking off the rain or the daze. Either way, it was adizzying mixture of adorable and incredibly sexy. His normally messy hair wasplastered to his head even though he could only have been in the rain for allof ten seconds. He suddenly thrust his hand towards her and Lily shook it witha bemused smile. “I’m your neighbour. James. Sorry, I’m wet.”

“It’s okay,” Lily smiled when he pulled his hand back on anembarrassed smile. “I’m Lily. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too. Did you realize it was raining?” When sheraised her eyebrows because obviously,he dragged his hand through his dripping hair and shook his head, lookingslightly embarrassed. “What I mean is, your clothes are still on the line and Idon’t think it’s proper drying weather at the moment.”

It took a moment for her to understand what he was saying.When she remembered her broken dryer and the clothesline out back, she sworeheartily and turned to rush out the back door. It was rude, probably, leavinghim standing there at the front door without saying a word, but she needed tosave her clothes. There may not have been many clothes hanging, but she haddefinitely thrown her favorite bra and knickers in the wash last night beforebed and she didn’t fancy the idea of leaving them out in the rain for God knowshow long.

She rushed out the back door and started ripping clothesfrom the line, not realizing that he had followed her until he already had halfof the load in his arms and was ushering her back inside.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to…” she trailed off, mortified,when she realized that at the very top of the pile of clothes in his arms sather overpriced, but very beautiful and favored black-and-cream lacy bra andknickers.

He seemed to realize a moment later what had caught herattention. His eyes went wide and he thrust his arms forward, offering for herto take her unmentionables back. She hesitated, arms already full, and nowhereto put her sopping clothes, before gesturing for him to just drop the clotheson the kitchen table. He did, and she quickly dropped her half of the load ontop hoping that the saying out of sight,out of mind might apply here. Judging by the redness creeping up his neck,though, that wasn’t going to be the case.

“Why do you dry your clothes on the line?” he blurted outand it was so obviously word vomit that she wondered if the question had beenniggling at the back of his mind since she had strung up the line or if he hadsimply said the first thing he had thought of in an attempt to clear theawkwardness.

“My dryer is a traitorous piece of shit,” she told him. “Notonly does it occasionally refuse to dry my clothing, it also attempted to breakmy foot today. When I kicked it, that is.”

He laughed at that, rubbing the back of his neck as hestudied her. “Well, you seem to be doing okay.”

“Yeah, I’m a right trooper,” she said.

They were quiet for a moment, only the sound of the rainoutside filling the silence. This wasn’t exactly how she had imagined theirfirst meeting going. Not that she had fantasized about meeting him or snogginghim or sleeping with him or anything. She definitely hadn’t dreamt about it andwoken up in the middle of the night panting and frustrated and wanting nothingmore than his head between her thighs, his hips cradled between hers and havingto make do with only her hand. Except that she definitely, absolutely,embarrassingly had. Just last night, in fact, which, in hindsight, may have hadsomething to do with why she had overslept this morning.

“Did you want a cup of tea?” she offered, voice unusually high-pitched.

“Oh, actually, I can’t right now. I’m sorry,” he said, andhe did actually sound regretful. “I’ve got to get home.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine. Of course you do!” she exclaimed, andled him back to the front door. “Thanks so much for reminding me about mylaundry. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Of course. It’s not a problem.” He opened the door forhimself and started to walk outside. He paused on the threshold, his hand stillon the doorknob, and turned to look at her, the rain pouring down behind himand spoke in huge rush, as if he was afraid of missing his one shot at… something. It was charming, in anervous, boyish sort of way.

“Did you maybe want to use mine? My dryer, I mean. It’s nota traitor, in fact it’s been quite loyal to me so far. Always gets the clothesdry, if not a bit wrinkled, but I think that might be my fault – I’m shit atfolding.” He stopped himself, took a deep breath, and ruffled his damp hair. “Ihave food, too, if you were hungry.”

“What kind of food?” She asked, a smile playing on her lips.

“Beg pardon?” He was staring at her lips. She thought herealized it at the same time she did because he cleared his throat andimmediately refocused his attention on her eyes.

“I mean, are you cooking food or do you have take away or isit frozen dinners or…?” She was only giving him a bit of a hard time. It wasn’tlike she had particularly high standards – she survived on a diet of frozendinners and take away for the most part herself, and had already decided to goover to his house anyway for the use of the dryer, and the promise of dinnerand maybe, if they were both lucky, something more.

“I’m cooking.” When her eyebrows shot up, he grinned. Ittransformed him from awkward, uncertain, and adorable to full-blown sexgod. “Icook. Tonight I’m making Eggplant Parmigiana.That’s actually why I have to get home. I’ve left the oven on.”

“Oh my God, you’re serious. You actually cook. Like Italianfood.” Not only was he fit and kind and caring and adorably awkward and sexy,he could cook. She almost asked him to marry her right then and there.

“Yeah.” He nodded, that sexy, cocksure grin still playing athis lips. “It’s actually ready to go in the oven already. I just need to cookthe pasta and then…”

He trailed off when she turned away from him, marched overto the kitchen table, and scooped up her dripping clothes. The table waswooden, and it was soaked, and she should definitely be a responsible adult anddry it before it, too, was ruined, but she didn’t. She turned and met him atthe door, reveling in the way his expression changed from bewildered to elatedwhen he realized that she was taking him up on his offer.

“Oh, wait.” She hesitated, eyeing her keys on the table nextto the door, and he took her laundry from her without being asked so she couldlock the door and follow him next door.

His house was warm and brightly lit and surprisingly tidywhen she walked in. She followed him through the foyer, past the living roomand the dining room, through the kitchen, and into the laundry room, which waseasily the messiest room she had seen so far. There were clothes piled on topof the washer and the dryer and at least three pairs of running shoes scatteredaround the floor. At least everything seemed to be clean judging by the freshscent of the room.

“When you said you’re shit at folding…?” She trailed offwhen he straightened up from loading her clothes into the dryer. He looked around and cracked a shameless smile. “I guess I meant I just reallydon’t do it often.”

“It is the worst part of doing laundry,” she said.

“Yeah, it is.” He turned away from her for a moment to startthe dryer and rummage through the piles on top of the appliances. When heturned back to her, he handed her a jumper and a pair of sweatpants. “Here. Youmight want to change into dry clothes. I promise they’re clean.”

She hesitated for a moment before she took the clothes – shewould look ridiculous seeing as he was easily a foot taller than her, but shealso really didn’t want to sit through dinner in a wet dress.

“Thank you,” she said softly when he led her to the guestbathroom so that she could change. She watched him disappear from view, heardthe stairs creaking as he ran up them, and assumed he was going to change intosomething dry as well.

She leaned against the door for a moment after she closedit, taking several deep breaths before looking in the mirror and oh God, she was still wearing hercoffee-stained white dress. For a moment, she could do nothing but stare inhorror at her reflection. Then, she started laughing, deciding that other thancrying it was the only acceptable option. After several seconds of self-deprecating laughter, she stripped out ofher wet clothes and pulled on James’s clothes. A glance in the mirror assuredher that, no, she did not look any less ridiculous than before. She took a deepbreath, rolled her eyes at her reflection, and turned to leave the room.

When she walked out of the bathroom swimming in his jumperand sweats, her sopping hair piled up on top of her head, he had already changedhis clothes, started boiling water for the pasta, and was pouring two glassesof wine. He looked up when she walked into the kitchen, and froze, staring ather. She wasn’t a naïve schoolgirl; she knew she was attractive and she knew whatit meant when a man froze up like that at the sight of a woman in his clothes.

She watched as he carefully thought through his next move –they were both aware at this point that this night could very well set the tonefor all of their future interactions. He finished pouring the wine and thenwalked over to her, handing her a glass. When she raised a questioning brow, heshrugged. “I saw the bottle in your living room. Figured you wouldn’t mindanother glass.”

He smiled when she clinked her glass against his and took asip. She smiled when she realized they apparently had the same taste in wine.“I love a good Chardonnay.”

With one finger, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of hisnose, drawing to her attention the fact that he had put them on while she wasgetting changed.

“Me too. Technically, it’s not the best wine to pair with ared sauce, but it’s my favorite and I knew you liked it, so I…” he trailed off whenshe stepped closer, set her wine down on the counter next to him and thensurged up on the tips of her toes to press her lips to his ever-so-briefly.

“Sorry,” she said, blushing when he only stared at her. Shebacked away quickly, shaking her head with the sudden realization that that mayhave been wildly inappropriate. “Oh, God, I’m sorry. I just… I’ve wondered whatit would be like, and… shit, I’m sorry. Do you have a girlfriend? Oh, God. I’vejust realized I don’t know anything about you.”

“No, no, no.” He rushed toward her, his hands closing overher clasped hands. “I just didn’t expect… You’re beautiful and… Fuck it.”

He leaned down towards her and kissed her, his lipslingering far longer than she had. When he pulled back, his glasses wereslightly askew, but he didn’t seem to care, choosing to cup her face in hishands instead of fix them. “I don’t have a girlfriend, and I have beenwondering what it would be like to kiss you as well, ever since I first sawyou. You’re just very attractive and I’m incredibly shit with women.”

She smiled up at him, resting her hands on his hips. “Well,you seem to be doing okay.”

In answer, he kissed her again, more enthusiastically thistime, pushing her up against the counter. She wanted him to lift her up, sether on top of the counter, press himself against her. When he didn’t lift herup, she pulled back, boosted herself up to sit on the counter, and drew him inbetween her legs. He groaned deeply and slipped both of his hands under thejumper he had given her.

When he cupped her breasts, her head fell back. There was asudden violent hissing-popping noise that was definitely not coming from eitherof them. He pulled away from her quickly, grabbed the pot of water on the stove, andmoved it to a different burner. His chest was heaving and he was looking backand forth from her to the water with comically wide eyes.

She laughed and shook her head. “Let’s put this on pause,yeah?”

When he looked like he wanted to protest, she jumped downfrom the counter and lifted her glass of wine. “I want to watch a man cook.It’ll be like foreplay.”

“It’s pasta,” he said, his voice much gruffer than before.“Not much cooking there.”

“Hey, I am one of those people who can burn pasta,” she toldhim, figuring it wouldn’t really matter to him that she couldn’t cook – a manwho cooked when he didn’t know he had anyone to impress was a man who enjoyedcooking and therefore did not need a woman who could cook. When he grinned ather, she knew she was right. “Give me this.”

He studied her for a moment and then shrugged. “I amhungry.”

Grinning, she watched over the rim of her glass as he movedpurposefully through the kitchen. When he caught her gaze over his shoulder,she bit her lip. This could be the start of something really, really good.

(Sequel)

#jily fanfic #jily fic #jily muggle au #jily #muggle au #james potter #lily evans #prongsno #fanfic prompt #i didn't actually expect anyone to request anything #so thank you so much #writing