#But my drawings of her just haven't focused on the face | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redstarwriting · 11 months

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happy birthday

miles morales x reader

request?: yes

request: “I LOVEDDD THE HC’S OMG OMG WORK OF ART!!! i was wondering if you would write something expanding on getting miles’ doodles tatted as an adult!! i would love to read more abt it, it’s so cutee”

requested by: anon

word count: 2.2k

genre: fluff

Warnings: language, tattoos, mentions of tattoos and needles, Miles is so sweet it's sick

A/N: GLADLY!! i've been itching to get a new tattoo since the minute i got my first like three years ago and writing this just made me want to get another one so bad LMAO. i hope you enjoy!

also in case you were wondering what hcs anon is talking about, it's my pda/general affection hcs i wrote for hobie and miles! you can check it out here if you haven't already and feel compelled to :)

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“Miles! Baby, can you give me a tattoo?” you ask, and he smiles. This has become a common practice in your relationship. From the time y’all were kids in love to now, you would always ask him for a tattoo. Of course, he didn’t actually give you tattoos, he just drew on your arm. He’s mentioned you, and even urged you, to get a tattoo every now and again. Especially when he offered to design them, but you always say his temporary ones are more special than any other tattoo you could get. He isn’t upset about it. He genuinely loves drawing on you. “Of course, babe. Come here,” he says, motioning you over to him as he grabs his markers he has specifically for your “tattoos.” You go over to him, sitting between his legs and extending your arm. “Can you draw it right next to the uh… elbow pit?” you say, and he laughs. “Elbow pit?”

“Yeah, like the inside of my arm and not on the bicep part or the elbow pit part, but the forearm part by the elbow pit,” you explain, pointing to the area you’re talking about. He chuckles. “Elbow pit.”

“Well, what else would it be called?” you ask, smiling, and he grins, starting to doodle on your arm. “I’ll text and ask my mom what the scientific name for it is after I’m done here,” he says, and you lean your head back against his shoulder. “Oh, god, please don’t tell her I called it an elbow pit.”

“Oh, I’m totally telling her you called it that,” he teases, placing a quick peck on your lips before returning his attention to your arm. He draws a spiderweb, of course, but in the shape of a heart. He adds his Miles touch to it by making it look like the web was spraypainted, and having it pop with black and red. You don’t even look at the tattoo as he draws it, you just stare at his face. You love watching him when he does his art. You assume it’s similar to the way his face looks when he’s swinging around the city as Spider-Man. He’s in his element, laser-focused and yet has an ease about him that mesmerizes you. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says, smirking and turning his attention to you. You feel your face heat up but roll your eyes. “Can’t, arm’s a bit preoccupied.”

“You can get creative; I have an idea. Maybe use the one I’m not drawing on?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and he shakes his head. “What do you think, amor?” he asks, and you look. You smile. “I love it, Miles. Thank you,” you say, kissing him on the cheek. He grins, wrapping his arms around your waist as you admire his art. “What time is it?” you ask, and he glances at his phone. “11:15. Why?”

“Ganke and I are gonna go get some lunch today.”

“Should I be worried?” Miles jokes. “No, dummy. We’re just talking about… something happening soon,” you say, and a sly smile spreads across Miles’ face. “How soon?”

“I’ve said too much,” you say, trying to get up. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is Spider-Man and can easily hold you in place. “Nuh uh, how soon is this something happening?” he looks at you with a shit-eating grin, and you roll your eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know, spider boy?”

“I would. Is it, and this is just a wild guess… something happening tomorrow? A special something happening on a very special day?” he guesses, and you sigh. “Don’t tell Ganke you found out…”

“I knew it!”

“We’re supposed to be planning your birthday party, yes. For tomorrow. On your birthday. Are you happy you spoiled it for yourself now?” you feign annoyance, and he laughs. “I am, actually. Now I know to look good for you tomorrow.” You roll your eyes. “You always look nice, Miles.”

“Only for you,” he grins at you, turning your face to look at him. The two of you share a kiss before it’s interrupted by his police scanner going off. He frowns slightly. “It’s okay, Miles. I gotta go soon anyways,” you give him a quick peck for squeezing out of his arms. He sighs. “Fine, fine. Guess I’ll go save the city. Be the best thing that ever happened to New York and all that.”

“My hero,” you joke, and he grins. “You know it,” he says, slipping his mask on and sliding his everyday clothes off. “I’ll see you later, Miles. Stay safe. Love you.”

“You stay safe, too. Love you more.” He leaps out of the window, and you make sure he’s gone before you call Ganke. “Yo, what’s up?”

“You gotta plan Miles’ birthday party tomorrow.”

“Woah, what?” You sigh. “I already have the roof of our building booked out for it, I ordered the cake already and will pick it up tomorrow and have all the decorations. You just need to invite everyone, okay?”

“You mean I have to reach out to people in different dimensions, tell them to clear their schedules for tomorrow, and hope for the best?” Ganke asks, and you hum into the phone. “Yep! Thanks, Ganke! Also, if Miles asks, we went and got lunch, okay?”

“And where are you really going?”

“I’m getting a tattoo to surprise him for his birthday tomorrow,” you say, grabbing your keys and putting some money in your pocket. You put Ganke on speaker, sending a quick text to Hobie. “You need to stop using me as a cover-up, (Y/n).”

“Who else am I supposed to use? Gwen?” you say, and Ganke sighs. “I mean, yeah, you know she would be down to help you with something like this.”

“Ganke she is so bad at keeping secrets like that, and you know it,” you say, admiring the art on your arm again. “Then use Hobie.”

“Wait that’s actually a good idea,” you say, “Especially since he’s the one giving me the tattoo.”

“AND YOU STILL USED ME?!”

“I PANICKED! He was asking questions! Just, listen, invite as many people as you can think of, alright? Please, and thank you.”

“Fine. Go get inked or whatever they say,” Ganke says. The two of you give some quick goodbyes before hanging up. You receive a reply from Hobie, and a portal opens in Miles and your bedroom. You step through it and find yourself in Hobie’s flat. “Can I just say it’s about damn time you got one of ‘is works tattooed onto ya,” Hobie says, motioning to his couch. You sit and he gets his whole get-up ready, all the cleaning wipes and gloves and the tattoo gun all ready to go. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m getting it now and that’s what matters,” you say, and he clicks his tongue. “I can guarantee ya this is just gonna be the beginning. Kinda becomes an addiction,” he says, sitting next to you, and fiddling with his gun. “Then I guess I’ll just need to have Miles draw on me even more.” He chuckles. “Lemme see it.”

You show him the drawing, and Hobie shakes his head. “Your man is corny,” he says, and you shrug. “I like it.”

“I know,” he dips his gun in ink, and looks at you, “Ya ready?” You nod, and he begins tattooing Miles’ art onto your skin. The two of you talk the whole time, really, and you let him know about the party tomorrow. He, of course, agrees to come, and can’t wait to see Miles’ reaction. It takes a few hours, but eventually he finishes up and it looks exactly like Miles just drew it on your skin. Hobie places fake skin over it and gives you the rundown of how to take care of it. He turns away from you to put something away, and you quickly slip $100 under a pillow on the couch. You know he won’t accept any money from you because he’s ‘not a capitalist pig,’ so you have to be sneaky with it. “Thank you so much, Hobie,” you say, and he winks at you. “Anythin’ for my mate’s better ‘alf.”

He opens the portal again, and you two say bye until tomorrow. You’re back home, literally, in no time, and you quickly throw one of the hoodies Miles left lying around on. This way he won’t see the tattoo, and you can play it off like you missed him. Especially since you did kind of miss him and it is sort of a staple in your relationship that you wear his clothes when you do. That’ll make him melt and he’ll forget all about the art on your arm. And you were absolutely right.

It ended up being a late night for Spider-Man, and when he got home, he saw you curled up on the couch, sleeping with his hoodie on, and all he could think about was that you missed him. He carefully picked you up and carried you to your shared bed. You started to wake up as soon as he was getting in bed after taking a shower and cleaning up, and he began desperately trying to get you to go back to sleep. “What time is it?” you groggily ask. “It’s like 3am, (Y/n/n), I’m here now, we can go to sleep, okay?” he says, slipping into bed next to you and pulling you on top of his chest. “Happy birthday!” you sleepily say, burying your face into his chest. He smiles. “Thank you, amor. Let’s get back to sleep now, yeah?” You make a muffled mmhmm sound and are out like a light almost immediately. Miles smiles to himself, wondering how he got this lucky.

You can imagine his disappointment when he wakes up the next day and you’re not snug against his chest, but he feels better the minute he sees a little note on his chest that explains you’ll be home, you just had to go do something for him. He gets up and decided he can do his Spider-Man duties until you text him and let him know he needs to come home. It may be his birthday, but the city still needs it’s defender. So that’s exactly what he does. He cannot explain how grateful he is that none of the big bads were trying to start anything today, because if he didn’t get to see you and eat a slice of cake, he was going to scream. The day went slower than he wanted but also sped by when eventually he got a text from you saying to come home. He immediately obliges, swinging in through the window and putting on some of his nicest clothes. He walks out of your room and sees you chilling on the couch. “Miss me?” he asks, walking over and bending down to kiss your lips. You giggle. “Obviously. Hey, before we go up to the roof where there totally isn’t a party waiting for you, I wanna show you something, okay?”

“Okay,” he grins, and you grin back. “Cover your eyes.” He does as instructed, and hears you shift slightly. “Okay… open them.” He opens his eyes, and immediately sees his “tattoo” on your arm. Only it was covered in a clear wrap. And it’s real. His eyes get big, and he looks at your face. You give a small smile. “You always encouraged me to get a real tattoo, so… happy birthday.”

“Yo! It looks so good, hold up,” he gently grabs your arm and softly traces it through the saniderm. “When did you get this?”

“Yesterday.”

“You weren’t actually with Ganke, were you?”

“No, I was with Hobie,” you say, and he shakes his head. “I got a little liar on my hands, huh?”

“It wasn’t lying it was covering my ass because you ask too many damn questions,” you say, and he laughs. “I love it, (Y/n/n).” You smile and the two of you share a kiss. “We should probably get up there. Some people are waiting. Oh, and pretend like you haven’t seen it yet. Hobie wants to see your reaction.” Miles laughs. “Alright. Well, I hope he knows I’m not gonna stop drawing on you. And that he fully traced my art,” Miles says, and you shake your head. “I’m sure he knows, Miles. You really like it?”

“Like it? Baby, I told you I love it. I love you; I love this tattoo; I love that this is a birthday present from you… everything about this? I love it. I don’t even need to go up there to make the day better because all I need is you,” he says, and you smile. “Hobie was right. You’re so corny.”

“Nah, hold on, he said that? Forget everything I just said it’ll be a perfect day when I punch him.” You laugh as the two of you make your way up to the party. But the whole time, Miles keeps finding his eyes drifting to your tattoo. Something about having his art on you permanently makes his heart swell with pride and happiness. And he and Hobie were both right.

It’s not the only “tattoo” that will become real.

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#miles morales x reader #spiderman x reader #miles x reader #spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #miles morales #spiderman #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv

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ltbarnes · 3 months

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Back to December (1/2)

Summary: Your new job as an assistant for the CEO of a big, shiny company was supposed to be a good thing. Instead your ex from uni who completely ghosted you out of nowhere several years ago happens to be one of your superiors. It doesn’t help that he’s only gotten more handsome over the years. But you hate him for leaving without an explanation, and he seems to hate you too. Everything is just fucking great.

Pairing: ex!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: OFFICE AU (Ghost is not ceo but he’s up there in the company somewhere), exes to enemies to lovers, harassment, past emotional violence/threats, ghost was a rugby player in uni lol, blood

A/N: I’m finally dipping my toe into another fandom 🫣 I’ve been obsessed with the cod men for months now so I suppose it’s time. this is the first part of two, maybe three. we’ll see where my imagination takes me!!

Part 2

Masterlist

So many years spent wondering what the hell happened that night, and there he is on the opposite side of the meeting room table gathering his papers into a neat pile. Simon always was organized, you remember.

He hasn't seen you yet. Or maybe he doesn't recognize you. You don't think you have changed that much, but you never know. More as a person than your appearance, you guess.

Maybe that's why you haven't fell down to the floor crying yet—you would have just a few years ago. Seeing your ex-boyfriend for the first time since you were 20 might do that to you.

But you just feel anger. Anger over the fact that Simon has the audacity to have grown into his looks that way, and that he's successful and has this great scruff on his face and that he just left and never said a word to you again. How dare he have a good life when he just abandoned you and your relationship that night all those years ago without giving you a reason for it.

Your new boss clears his throat, sitting down at one of the ridiculously expensive chairs right next to you. You didn't notice him come in, and you certainly haven't gotten used to his intimidating presence yet.

"Garcia, you have about...fifteen minutes to go through your presentation. I have another meeting with Hill soon." Mr. Price pauses to look down at his wrist watch for two seconds in the middle of his sentence, before nodding towards the beautiful redhead standing with a small remote in her hand.

For some reason this company seems to be where models who get tired of their careers come to work. You didn't exactly get that memo. It's only your second day here, and you feel intimidated by everyone. Maybe that's the way an assistant should feel.

"Y/l/n, you keeping notes for me?" Your head tilts up dangerously fast at the mention of your name, taking a few seconds too long to process his request, before nodding obediently.

"Yes, sir."

Your fingers click too loudly against the keys as you frantically try to draw up a document with the correct font and size. It's too quiet in here. You haven't done anything wrong, yet it feels like everyone is waiting for you to misstep. Your anxiety is a bitch.

"Riley. Riley, what the hell?" you hear someone whisper angrily. It's not until you hear a pen clatter to the floor that you dare to look up his way.

Honey brown eyes stare right into your goddamn soul. Your breath hitches, speeding up the pace of your anxiety-ridden heart even further. More than what's acceptable for sitting still in a work meeting. But your momentary weakness over catching his attention soon disappears, to be replaced by your anger again.

You look away with a clenched jaw, focusing on the keyboard right beneath you. Simon is still staring at you. You can feel it. Feels like it always used to do, but this time you don't want it. In your ideal world Simon Riley would not sit opposite you, would not stand up to join the beautiful, model redhead to hold a presentation where he keeps stumbling on his words all the time because of your presence. At least you think it's your presence, but you're not sure if it's in a good or bad way. For you it's bad.

But it does make you feel good that he keeps having these space outs—tripping over his words, forgetting them all together. It is not a good presentation on his part, and Ms. Garcia is getting increasingly more irritated at him for his lack of delivery. You hope she scolds him for it afterward. God knows you would like to throw every curse word you know at the man.

Should you be this angry after all these years? Should you have let it go a long time ago? Should you have stopped acting as if being with another man after him is betrayal? Probably. The last question is probably the answer to why you haven't really moved on from your hurt.

It just makes you so mad—for a year he was your entire world. Simon hugged you from behind each time he encountered you out in public and played with your hair as you fell asleep in his arms and woke you up with his fingers tracing patters on your hip. He fucked you until your bed broke and made love to you so gently you might as well have been made of glass to him. Two weeks from your anniversary he stopped talking to you. Not one thing of his was left in your dorm the next morning, and you didn't see him on campus even once during the term he had left of school. The few friends you had in common didn't talk to you anymore.

It broke your heart, to be abandoned like that. That night was already shit, and Simon just decided to make it ten times worse. You were in shock and all you wanted was his comfort. To find out he had left? You barely made it through that next semester.

For years you have pondered over what part of you was so unlovable that Simon couldn't even bear to say another word to you. Maybe his inability to function properly during this meeting wasn't due to shock, but instead disgust over having to be in the same room as you. Fuck, you are mad, and yet so scared that you have to meet him every single week from now on. You're not strong enough for that.

"That was...something. I expect you to be better prepared next time I see you, Riley," Mr. Price says, clicking his pen while pointing it towards Simon. "Don't know what the fuck that was," he mutters under his breath while rising from his chair.

You follow swiftly. The chair is too loud as it's pushed back. You cringe. Gathering your laptop and your papers is ungraciously done. Price still waits for you though, for some reason, but he sighs and puffs while doing so. Everyone else is quiet, besides the slap to his arm Simon receives from Ms. Garcia. They're probably dating. Two perfect, good looking people having perfect sex in their perfect apartments. You hate them both.

You try not to look at him as you walk out behind Mr. Price. But you still say a 'have a good day' that is too quiet to the room, answered with a few nods and some 'you too' back.

A small squeak of surprise escapes your lips when your boss comes to an abrupt halt in front of you. A millisecond is all it would take for you to have crushed into him, and that squeak leaves heat travelling to your face. He turns around, facing the room once again, with his usual glare.

"Don't bloody stare at my new assistant. I don't want another HR-situation with this one. Especially talking to you, Riley."

Price pins his glare on Simon, who gives him an equally harsh glare back. You are just about ready for the floor to break so you can fall through to the bottom level and run out of here. But you're frozen in your place, clutching your belongings to your chest tightly enough to make a computer-sized dent in your skin.

Without another word, your boss turns around and heads out of the room. You couldn't have moved any faster if you wanted to—already tight on his heels while your heart rate desperately tries to calm down. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. What the hell are you going to do? Ignore Simon and hope that you manage to avoid him for however long you'll work here? It feels kind of impossible, but the last thing you want is to talk to him. You couldn't.

You've just put down your things on your desk right outside of Price's office when he speaks again. His voice always manages to make you jump in your place, head flying up to meet his gaze.

"If Riley, or anyone else, gives you any trouble—you tell me," he says, unflinching and stoic.

You gulp, frozen in your position. "Oh—I, okay. Thank you." The words come out quieter than you wanted to.

"You seem like a good kid. Don't want these fucking fools to chase away 'nother one of my assistants."

The door to his office is closed the next second. You just stand there, dumbfounded and a little confused, but still flattered in some way. A good kid—you'll take that.

Popcorn crunches underneath your sneakers as you push yourself past the people going up and down the stairs, trickling out of the stadium with happy smiles on their faces and lively conversations exchanged now that the game is over. They won. The players are still out on the field, celebrating their victory with slaps to each other's backs, jumping up and down, impromptu attack hugs. You are giggling too, watching them.

Simon has torn his shirt off, sweaty, blond hair a mess as he shakes his head. Johnny just poured water all over him—the guy always gets so overexcited. And goddamn, your man looks good as he has that rare smile on his face.

The game was a really good one on his part. Everyone in the team calls him 'Ghost' because of how quickly and seamlessly he moves despite his size. And the big tattoo of a man wearing a skull mask on his arm. But once he's out on the field, the players never expects his speed. At least one player during each game runs right into him, as if he was invisible. A ghost.

He hasn't noticed you yet, where you stand leaning against the railing. It's freezing out. The first really cold September day, and you didn't think to bring a proper jacket. But you don't really care, because seeing Simon and your friends this happy has plastered a permanent grin on your face.

"Riley, your girl!"

Someone shouts and points at you, alerting your boyfriend of your presence. His head whips in your direction, brown eyes pinpointing you in your place before a 6'2'' man starts barreling towards you. Simon throws the water bottle in his hand away carelessly as you giggle furiously over his excitement.

"Fuck, love," he says as he reaches his hands out, lifting you over the railing within a second. You yelp in surprise.

"Wha—Simon! Put me down!"

Simon just holds onto you tighter, pressing you close to him with your feet still in the air. How is he this strong? "Not a chance, Princess. We fucking won. I'm celebrating with my girl."

You chuckle, holding onto his shoulders while looking down at his sweaty face. "I know. I'm so proud of you."

A shy grin grows on his face, slowly setting you down onto the fake grass. "Really?"

"Really. It's the best you've ever played. Wanted to shout to everyone that it was my boyfriend doing all the best throws out there," you tell him, now looking up at him instead. God, he's tall.

Simon's mouth comes crashing down onto yours, giving you a sloppy kiss that makes you laugh.

"I lov—I loved having you here." Simon pauses in the middle of the sentence, as if he was supposed to say something else. "You're my fucking lucky charm, you know that?"

"I'm not so sure about that. You have lost quite a few games with me here as well," you tell him, ruffling his messy hair with your hand.

"Don't matter. I feel lucky anyway." A boyish grin adorns his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your head. "Now, tell me why in the hell my little lady is out here freezing her arse off 'cause she didn't bring a jacket? Like I told her to do?"

You groan, giving him a glare. "Stop. I should have listened to you, you were right, and all that. I know."

"Well, better for me, 'cause I get to rub my sweaty arms all over you now to warm you up."

"Go shower, you idiot." You push at his chest gently, rolling your eyes. He pretends to stumble backwards, holding his hands up.

"I will. Just wait a few seconds here, will you?"

Simon keeps walking backwards, waiting for your nod of confirmation, before breaking out into a jog towards the locker rooms.

You embrace your torso with your arms, rubbing up and down with your hands to warm your skin. There's so many players left on the field, still messing with each other like rugby teams usually do. Some you recognize—like Johnny and Gaz. They're your friends too. Others you have seen in passing at parties, in class. Some you only know because Simon complains about them to you. The fly-half never was his favorite. Graves, something? They're constantly at each other's throats.

Simon comes running out onto the field once more, this time with his jacket in hand. You sigh, scratching the skin above your eyebrow with a small smile.

"Si—you didn't have to. I'm fine," you say as soon as he's within earshot.

"Shut up. I'm being a bloody gentleman, just like my mum taught me."

The jacket is laid gently around your shoulders. You tug it tighter around you, because despite your words it is cold. And you love his jacket.

"Look at you. So fucking adorable."

You smile up at him, scrunching your nose. You love this fool. You love Simon Riley, have done so for many, many months. Haven't told him yet though. But it can wait—you have all the time in the world.

Simon is avoiding you. A week of not seeing him even once, despite the fact that you work on the same floor. You haven't attended any more meetings since your second day, but you still would have expected to run into him in the break room, or in the hallway. Hell, you've even delivered paper copies to his office and still haven't seen him.

You don't know what you feel about that. You are mad at him and you definitely don't want to be forced into an awkward encounter with your ex-boyfriend, but still not knowing why he left has chipped away at every ounce of confidence you had in yourself. Even now at your grown age. It's been several years since. It's pathetic. Maybe Simon realized that on a Friday night in December during his senior year of college—you are pathetic.

God, why are you still that 20-year old girl? Why are you sitting at your desk, 3:30 PM on a Wednesday, obsessing over every flaw you can come up with all because of a stupid man?

The anger you held towards him last Tuesday has morphed into deep self-hate. You begin to understand his perspective. He doesn't want to interact with the silly little girl he broke up with ages ago in her silly little assistant job. Simon is a senior executive in this company, for god's sake. He doesn't even have to send a second glance your way.

"Y/l/n! Coffee!" your boss yells from within his office. But the yelling and cold tone still doesn't offend you like it would any other person—it's just the way he is. Price has actually been pretty nice to you. You like him as your boss, despite his less than chipper attitude.

"Yes, sir," you shout back, rising from your seat.

You smooth down your dress, fiddle with your hair in the reflection of your laptop, before taking a deep breath. It's just a short trip to the break room. No big deal. Nobody actually cares that you are the new girl.

It's practically empty as you arrive, besides a man reading his newspaper in the corner while seemingly on an important call. Seems a little arrogant, but you know he's high up in the company. At least you think he is. Price doesn't like him. He told you so the first day.

A sigh of relief escapes your lungs as you walk to the expensive, Italian coffee machine. You press the double espresso button. No sugar, no milk. Just straight, black coffee for your boss. Kind of reflects his personality. It buzzes loudly as coffee drips into the cup, you standing there waiting patiently. It has started raining outside. You'll probably be soaking wet tonight once you come back to your apartment.

Someone comes standing beside you, taking a mug off the highest shelf. You catch a glimpse of his expensive suit before glancing upwards. Your lips part, almost just as shocked as you were last Tuesday. You can't catch a fucking break, can you?

"Johnny?"

The now bearded man, with a full head of hair as well, which he definitely didn't have when you last saw him, turns around towards you with a stoic expression. It doesn't change once he gets a good look at who said his name.

"You work here too?" you ask before gulping.

"Y/n," he says, a frown growing in between his eyebrows. "I work here, yes." The Scottish accent that you used to like listening to is now impossibly deeper.

"Uh, I—how you doing? It's been...a while." You glance away, cowering under his gaze. Soap always used to be so kind to you, treated you as if you were one of the boys. Insisted you call him Soap, something only his friends were allowed to call him. Now there is a hidden undertone of distaste in the way he looks at you. "See you've gotten rid of the Mohawk."

"I'm alright. Good to see ya', Y/n, but I gotta go back," he tells you. For some reason you feel like he's actually not all that happy to see you.

"Oh. Okay." The disappointment in your voice is clear. "We'll probably see each other again soon, I guess."

Johnny has already started walking away when the words leave your mouth. You hear him mumble a halfhearted 'Take care, lassie" before leaving you there dumbfounded and upright hurt with your boss's coffee cup. What was that?

You always knew Johnny was as loyal of a friend you could be, but...you didn't know he hated you that much. Especially when you didn't actually do anything against him. Not that you did anything against Simon either. That you know of. But, you know.

The short interaction leaves you jarred for the rest of your work day. You still get things done, but the look on Johnny's face is in the back of your mind the entire time. What did you do that was so bad that John goddamn MacTavish hates you for it?

It wasn't enough to work with the man who broke your heart, but your ex-friend as well. His best friend. You will never be welcomed here if half of the company leaders consist of people who have a grudge against you spanning years.

When the clock strikes 6, Price sends you home. He will probably stay for another few hours, you think, because there has been empty takeout containers in his office the morning after every day this week. You tell him to have a good night, he answers with a grunt, and then you and your bag take off through the hallways.

Your heels click against the floor as you walk through the mostly empty office space. Some rooms still have their lights on, casting shadows over the mahogany desks and the important people sitting behind them.

You halt your steps as you hear two voices wrapped into a conversation with each other. Someone must have left their door open. You don't want to eavesdrop, but it gets hard to resist when you recognize Johnny's voice from earlier.

"You can't avoid her forever," he says.

"Well, don't you think I fucking know that?"

You freeze as you instantly recognize the deep, rumbling timber of Simon's voice answering Soap. Fucking hell—they're talking about you. You can't not eavesdrop now.

"It's just—it's fucking hard, you know? She just walks in here all..."

"Met her in the break room earlier. Making coffee for Price."

"Yeah? She said somethin'?" Simon's voice sounds curious, eager almost.

"Asked how I was doing, the usual. Didn't know I worked here, it seemed like." A sigh sounds from the room, and you press yourself even closer to the wall. Please, for the love of god, don't let anyone walk by. "I couldn't just act like normal. I can't be fuckin'...nice to someone like that. When I know your past."

"What—you were fucking rude, or what? Just ignored her?"

"No, for fuck's sake. Left pretty quick, though. I just don't have any respect for things like that. You know that."

"Yeah." Simon lets out a bitter chuckle. If you could see him, he'd probably be shaking his head now. "I'm still fucking angry, you know? Can barely stand to be in the same room."

You bite down on your lip, shaking your head to yourself. You can't listen to the two of them talk about how much they hate you. How they don't have respect for 'things' like you. It's nauseating. Your limbs shake with poorly contained anger, but still the urge to cry is even stronger.

But there's no other way out than past his office. So you brave it—practically sprint by with your hand covering the side of your face in hope that they won't see who it is. You don't think they do. The blinds were down.

A single, pathetic tear slips down your face as soon as you exit the building. Cars fly past you, lights blaring everywhere, noise unending. You just want to go home. But you know the overthinking won't stop there.

As the obnoxiously loud alarm disturbs your sleep that finally came about three hours before, you groan into your pillow and wish for it to be anything else but Thursday. You want the weekend. You want to sleep in and wallow in the fact that you probably won't have this job for very long after what you heard Simon and Johnny say about you yesterday.

You don't even bother putting on heels this morning. An old pair of ballerina shoes and a thick, fuzzy sweater over your dress is what you drag yourself to the office in. It's cold and you're exhausted and sad. You can't stand people not liking you—it takes over every part of your being. And when it's Simon...

There's a meeting going on. Price gave you a list of everyone's coffee orders and made you run over to the shop across the street. You see Simon's name taunting you at the top of the list. A cortado, extra sugar. Fuck, he's still the same.

It takes twenty minutes of queuing before you manage to get to the counter. Another ten to have everyone's order ready. The bag is ridiculously heavy as you carry it out of the coffee shop. The meeting will probably be over by the time you arrive, and then Price will curse you out and you will cry, because today you cannot handle even the smallest criticism.

You're a little sweaty by the time you reach the fourteenth floor of the building, which is fine, but the panting doesn't exactly add to your charisma that somehow seems to repent your coworkers from your person. For a minute you stand outside the meeting room, gathering yourself enough to be somewhere near presentable. Not entirely, but as close as you will get.

The door is shouldered open with a little force. More than you thought it would take. Nobody really gives a thought to your presence—they continue the meeting as if you weren't there at all, and you like it that way. You try to match each coffee to the right person on the list. But there's thirteen of them, and you have yet to learn everyone's name.

You feel Simon's eyes on you the entire time you spend in that room. He's anything but subtle, staring right at you without shame. He doesn't even answer as someone calls him by name. And it's pure spite leaving him for last. His order is the only one you know by heart, but keeping him waiting for a few extra minutes is deserved, you think. Maybe it just gives him more fuel to hate you, but if he's going to hate you, you might as well give it right back.

His ring-clad fingers clasp around the paper mug, slowly bringing it up to his lips as if taunting you with the existence of them. God, they are so full and pink and—no. Don't even go down that route. It'll all make it so much harder to live like this if you keep thinking about how fucking attractive Simon has become with his still blond hair slightly unkept from running his hand through it during the day and how his shirt strains against his muscles and the fact that he is still so, so tall.

"This is cold."

The room falls silent, at least you think it does, as Simon's harsh voice echoes throughout the confines of the four walls. The coffee belonging to the person sitting beside him is steaming. You know he's lying. He sets down the mug on the table, glaring up at you with such distaste in his eyes. You never thought that look would be reserved for you.

"Can't even get a bloody coffee order right, can you?" Simon's chuckle is deprecating, shaking his head to himself as if his irritation almost amuses him.

But you just flinch. He doesn't see it, but you think the rest of the room does. His tone fucking hurts. And that he would publicly humiliate you like this?

"Oh, uh..." You want so badly to have a good comeback, something that will make him shrink in his chair, but all you can get out is a stupid 'oh'. Standing there all small and speechless makes you feel dumb. "I'll get a new one."

Your response seems to catch his attention. His gaze flickers up, back to you, and the cruelty falters for a few seconds to be replaced by something likened to...regret? Probably not.

"Riley can drink his cold goddamn coffee. He'll survive," Price chimes in, waving with his pen as a signal for whoever was speaking before to continue.

You nod, clenching your jaw to stop the trembling, before escaping out of the room as quickly as possible without it seeming suspicious.

A shaky, deep breath is inhaled and exhaled as soon as you get out. It was already a bad day, yes, but nearly crying because Simon told you his coffee was cold? That's just childish. You need to pull yourself together if you're going to keep this job. Price clearly doesn't like weakness.

The rest of the day is calm. Mostly you're reviewing Price's schedule, emailing people back and forth about changing meetings and setting them up. He even gives you an extra break, which is so well needed and probably out of pity, but you'll take it.

You realize that you are so fucking petty when your final task of the day, once again, is to deliver some kind of contract to Simon's office. You know he's out on a meeting with a client—you heard him walking past earlier, talking to that client on the phone. You gather your belongings, say goodbye to Price, before heading towards Simon's on your way down.

Stepping inside feels like walking right into his arms. His cologne hangs heavy in the air. Fuck him for still using the same scent.

The entirety of his office is neatly organized, everything in its place. So you move things. A sharpener gets to change its designated spot from desk to shelf. Files labeled under 'F' gets shoved in between 'S' and 'T'. You even go as far as taking out some of the files from one folder, placing it in another. The printer gets unplugged.

Doing something to his old copy of The Fellowship of the Ring that stands proudly on display in his bookcase crosses your mind, but you do want to stay alive long enough to see the end of the week, at least. You remember one time when he slept with it as if it was a stuffed animal. You're being petty, not suicidal.

Your final masterpiece in your rampage is the unscrewing of a wheel on his desk chair. Just the thought of Simon pushing his chair back only for it to suddenly tilt makes you giggle. God, you really are a child.

Any sane person wouldn't even notice half the things you've done in here. But Simon is not sane. This can throw off his entire day, week even. You know from firsthand experience.

Yeah, Simon goddamn Riley broke your fucking heart and now has the audacity to punish you for it. You won't take that.

Simon has been in such a bad mood the entire day. You heard him cursing all the way from his office. Some poor intern got yelled at in the hallway (you really are sorry for that), and you overheard a few of your colleagues mention that he didn't speak to anyone during the entire morning meeting. Price apparently cursed him out for it in front of everyone. That's a little funny, at least.

On one hand you feel proud of your ability to still piss him off without him knowing. On the other hand, you're not too happy yourself. Your situation hasn't exactly changed—half the office still hasn't talked to you, and the ones that do keep strictly work related conversations. You're lonely.

Despite it being Friday, you get off when the sun has already set. It's pouring rain outside and you don't have an umbrella. You really don't have the energy to deal with that as you gaze warily out of the window from your desk. You could take the subway instead of walk all the way home, but you would still get soaking wet during the trek to the station.

"Goodbye, Mr. Price. Have a good weekend," you say, popping your head into his office with a sweet smile on your lips.

"Call me John," he answers without even looking up from whatever report he's reviewing. Still that monotone voice as if he's always tired of hearing people talk.

"Oh. Uh—okay, John," you stutter out. What? He never lets anyone call him by first name.

"Get home safe," Price tells you. Has he grown soft? What's happening? "Have a fuck load of reports needing organization on Monday." There it is.

You smile to yourself, shaking your head lightly, before mumbling another 'bye' to your boss. He lifts his head in a subtle nod as answer. Actually, you might have a chance to stay here if he likes you. He is the CEO after all.

The hallways are dark except the few offices still lit up like every night. These people barely have a life outside of work, it seems like. It's kind of sad. Then again, you don't either, if what counts as a life is having friends and significant others and people who care about you. But at least you have time for doughing in your couch and taking a walk around the neighborhood.

But your daydreaming and overthinking of course leads you into trouble. Rounding the corner forces you right into another person, making you stumble backwards a few steps before a clammy hand grabs your arm to stop you from falling.

"I'm so, so sorry," you say, looking up at the man standing in front of you. It's that executive-something Price doesn't like. Shepherd? An American.

"Don't worry that pretty little head of yours, darling," he says, without backing away from you. He keeps that close distance, letting you feel his dank breath properly.

You gulp, before attempting to release your arm from his grip. He doesn't budge. Your heart rate speeds up instantly.

"Haven't talked to you properly before, sweetheart. Just seen you strutting 'round these hallways in your dresses." He looks down at your wide eyes, before they slowly rake over the rest of your body. Your chest starts to heave up and down as if you've just come back from a run. It's clear he wants something more than just a simple conversation with the new assistant.

"I'm—I'm sorry. I have to go. Train," you stutter out, attempting to tear yourself away from his harsh grip around your arm. You can't.

"Don't be like that, darlin'. I just wanna have a talk, that's all," he tells you, his warm breaths hitting your face.

"Please, sir, I really have to go. We can talk on Monday."

Shepherd raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering down to your chest again as if you can't see it clearly, before tapping your cheek condescendingly with the palm of his hand.

"Alright, sweetheart. Come into my office on Monday. Appreciate it if you'd wear one of those pretty dresses. Makes my day much better, having somethin' sweet to look at."

A wet kiss is pressed to the back of your hand—something that he might think is gentlemanly, but sends shivers down your entire spine out of disgust. You're frozen still as he squeezes your hip before he leaves, leaving you to hear his dress shoes clink against the floor.

The further away he gets, the harder it gets for you to breathe. Panic grows in your chest, tears already threatening to fall as you finally get yourself to move, rushing towards the elevator and pressing the button too many times.

He was so close. And the way his grip tightened as you tried to step away, the squeeze of your hip. It's too much like last time. Too much like that fucking December night all those years ago.

Clear pictures of Philip and his friends flashes past the forefront of your mind as you rush from the elevator, already heaving from your tears. It's empty, thank god, since the guards are posted outside of the main entrance. Philip morphs into the man from just a minute ago. Pushing you against the wall at that party, grinning right in your face as you tell them to stop.

The backdoor leading into the alleyway beside the building is where your feet leads you towards without consulting you. It's better, maybe. You don't want anyone to see you like this.

But those goddamn revolving doors acting as the main entrance starts to move, you hear that, and soon enough someone steps inside with haste in their walk.

"Y/l/n!" someone shouts angrily. You know exactly who it is. "Why the fuck did you move all my stuff? I swear to god—"

Your back is facing away from him, but maybe he still sees the way your shoulders shake from behind. Maybe that's why he falters in his steps. Maybe that's why he decides to cut the first real sentences he's said to you directly since you started working here short.

The last crumb of composure turns to dust, and your hand flies up to your mouth to muffle the first real sob from your lips. You escape through the door, out into the cold, rainy alleyway as your cries turn too forceful to stop.

It's wet and dirty and crawling with grovel as your knees hit the ground harshly. You manage to turn yourself around to lean your back against the cold brick wall instead. It'll all bring you grief later, but right now your legs can't carry your weight.

With a bang, the door flies wide open once more. Long legs bend down, big hands on your arms.

"Y/n. Y/n, c'mon. Why are you crying?"

Simon's voice is drowning in urgency, his shakes of your shoulders almost forceful. But you can't stop crying. And you're still so fucking angry with him.

"Don't touch me," you sob, pushing his hands away from you. The rain grows heavier the same second, soaking the entirety of you as you sit there on the dirty ground.

"Alright, alright. I won't," he breathes out, holding his hands up beside him. Those big, veiny fucking hands that you have missed every day since he last put them on you. "But you gotta tell me what's wrong."

"Why?" you almost yell, tilting your head up, away from the palms of your hands previously hiding your face. You get raindrops right in your eyes. "You hate me, don't you? Can't even stand to be in the same room as me!"

"Y/n," he growls, as if he's scolding you with the simple mention of your name. "You know bloody fucking well I don't hate you. Now tell me what the hell's making you sob like this. You're sitting on the ground, for fuck's sake."

You dry away your tears, despite it being so futile in this rain, while letting out a bitter chuckle. "All due respect, you're the last person I wanna talk to."

Simon lets out a shaky breath, one filled with frustration. "So fucking stubborn..."

He shakes his head. "Just—just let me drive you home, at least, okay? The trains from this station are cancelled. Blowing up to a storm."

The words you were about to force out through your tears disappear completely. Instead you just stare at the man now looking down at you with something likened to concern. Still has that frown in between his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to get in a car with you, Riley," you mumble out. If you had your way it would sound angrier, more assertive, but your voice fails you.

"Riley, huh? That's where it's at?" Simon scoffs, as if he didn't call you by your last name a few minutes earlier. "Just get up, c'mon."

"No." You shake your head, looking down in your lap. In reality you're not just apprehensive because of your anger towards him—he's a man at the end of the day, and you are his ex-girlfriend who he dislikes very strongly.

"Are you—for god's sake." He shakes his head again. "I'm not going to hurt you, Y/n. I would never harm you. Not any woman," he tells you. How can he still read you this well?

You don't answer. Just take your wet sleeve to dry away even more tears. How to stop crying in front of your ex seems to be an art you haven't mastered yet.

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. You let me get you a taxi home, after you get out of this fucking rain and step inside. That alright with you?"

You nod with a sniffle, reaching for your bag beside you.

"C'mon."

Simon nods towards the door, reaching his hand out. You take it, because there's no chance you would manage to get up all by yourself. But that's the only reason.

He holds the door open for you, letting you slip inside again. Exactly how much the rain soaked you hits you as you step inside, instantly freezing cold and uncomfortable. And goddamn your right knee hurts. Falling down to the ground did come with consequences, it seems.

"Fucking hell," Simon mutters under his breath as soon as he gets inside, dripping water down onto the shiny floor. His suit is entirely soaked too.

You see a glance of yourself in a mirror as you take off your heels. There's mascara underneath your eyes. You try to remove it furiously with your fingers.

"Don't have to do that. Nothing that I haven't seen before," Simon speaks up from behind you, looking at you as well through the mirror.

You glance up at him, just for half a second, before lowering your arms slowly. And then you rummage through your bag with trembling hands, finding a napkin you kept from a restaurant. You dry away the mascara with that instead.

Simon looks at you, really looks at you, as you stand there dripping water onto the floor and makeup ruined and your clothes dirty. You feel so vulnerable underneath his gaze. What is he trying to find?

"Bloody hell, Y/n. You're bleeding for fuck's sake. That's a fucking gash."

He points at your knee. You look down, seeing the outpouring of blood running down your leg from the open wound right below your knee. It does look very, very bad. Like, you're slowly becoming nauseous by looking at it. How didn't you notice it earlier?

"Oh."

"I'm driving you wether you like it or not." Simon stalks up to you, grabbing a hold of your arm to put it around his shoulder. His arm sneaks its way around your waist. Fuck.

"Do I get a say in this?" you ask. You know what the answer is, but you also don't understand. What is this? Why is he doing this for you? A few days ago he was talking shit about you with Soap and humiliated you purposely in front of your co-workers. Now he's getting worried about you crying and driving you home from work?

"No."

Part 2

#cod mw2 #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost fic #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #back to december

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hollandorks · 5 months

Text

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter fourteen

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: I'm back to posting semi-regularly, yay! Not sure when the next chapter will be finished because of the holidays but hopefully it'll be within the next week or so! This one is a little on the shorter side, but the next several will be longer I think! (Since I haven't actually written them--but I have plans and they're lengthy.)

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word count: 2k

“Oh man,” Martinez groaned as his eyes flicked from Alfred, to her, to the picture, and back again. He gulped audibly. Next to him, Blake the security guard was white as a sheet. “Gordon’s gonna kill me.”

“Gordon’s gonna kill me,” Martinez said for the twentieth time as y/n poured him a cup of coffee to replace the one that was currently still on the foyer floor. “I was supposed to be the one paying attention. I was the one he trusted.” Which, he informed her after maybe the fourth “Gordon’s gonna kill me,” that meant he was Gordon’s most trusted on her security team. He was one who was secretly supposed to make sure no one else was compromised.

“Martinez,” y/n said for the nineteenth time. “No he isn’t. You were doing your job. You already said you didn’t leave, or fall asleep, or take a call. In fact, you did your job so well you ignored my offer of coffee.” She held out the new mug.

Martinez was still nervously mangling the hat of his uniform. He was completely ignoring her reassurances. He went still after a second, then turned eyes that were twice as frightened to her. “Man, Mr. Wayne’s gonna be so mad too, isn’t he? This is his house.”

Y/n narrowed her eyes. “I’ll handle Bruce. And besides–Alfred’s more in charge than he is, and he already agreed it wasn’t your fault.” Alfred had met Gordon downstairs a few minutes earlier. The elevator and entire lobby had been turned into a crime scene. Martinez and y/n were waiting to give their statements.

Easing Martinez’s fears was much easier than facing her own. It was easy to focus on him and nothing else. Because in the short half hour since she’d first found the picture, each bit of new information was worse than the last. No one on the security detail had been harmed, bribed, or had even moved. The security cameras had been turned off for only ten minutes. Which all meant that someone had enough access to Wayne Tower and its security to get past everything extra that had been set up.

They wanted her to know that they could get to her.

And they were drawing it out. Instead of grabbing her, they were making her wait. Making her scared.

Y/n focused again on the nervous cop in front of her, who was still bemoaning the fact that everyone was going to be mad at him.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to be mad at you,” she snapped. There was a headache blooming between her eyes.

Martinez quieted, looking like a kicked puppy with a mustache. “Jesus, I’m so sorry, y/n. If I can make it up to you at all–”

“Just drink your coffee, okay? No one blames you.” Y/n took a sip of her coffee. Her hands were still shaking, and some of the liquid spilled over as she set the cup back down. Damn, she was wasting a lot of coffee in one night.

She startled when a warm hand landed atop hers. She looked up and met Martinez’s soft gaze. He didn’t say anything else, but his presence was enough to steady her.

“I’m so glad they didn’t shoot you,” she said after a moment.

They shared a grin. “Hell, me too.”

An awareness prickled along y/n’s spine.

She looked up, and there was Bruce.

His hair was stuck to his forehead and his shirt was on inside out. Her stomach swooped. There really only seemed to be one possibility from those two clues, plus the fact that he hadn’t been home.

Jealousy and shame spread like hot oil through her stomach.

Bruce looked…angry. His eyes were twin blue flames where they stayed locked on Martinez’s hand atop hers.

Martinez scrambled to his feet as if the king of fucking England had just walked in. More coffee spilled as he bumped the table. Y/n half expected him to bow for Bruce. She rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Wayne! I’m so sorry, I swear I was paying attention, I–”

Bruce’s eyes went cold. “And you are?”

“Officer Martinez, we actually met back–”

Y/n’s eyes narrowed. It was her turn to jump to her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she said to Bruce.

Martinez flinched. Bruce calmly glanced her way then went back to glaring at Martinez.

“When the security of my home has been compromised due to incompetence–” Bruce said, still calm despite the obvious fury in his eyes.

Y/n cut him off. “Oh shut up. Stop talking to him like that. It wasn’t his fault!”

Bruce’s eyes flashed. “Well, it was certainly someone’s.”

“Maybe it was yours, then.” The words rose within her on a tide of anger. God, her life had been threatened again, and he had the nerve to come home from fucking his girlfriend and act like a dick to her friend? “I mean, you’ve been letting the rest of the tower go to shit for years, makes sense that maybe security is a little lax. Especially if you don’t even give enough of a shit to ever be here.”

They were almost toe to toe now, both breathing heavily. From the corner of her eye, she saw Martinez freeze in place, mouth open in shock.

“I give too much of a shit, y/n. If your little boyfriend hadn’t been distracted–”

Oh, y/n thought. Bruce thought Martinez was her boyfriend. And okay, maybe it looked like that, but Martinez actually had a great girlfriend who was in a group chat with them where they all sent memes to each other. She and Martinez wanted to set up a double date with her cousin and y/n.

The realization made the anger ebb, but then she was pissed off all over again.

“What gives you the right to act like this?” she spat at Bruce. He was so much taller than her that her neck was starting to ache from glaring up at him. “After what you did, after what you said, you’re acting like you have any right to one, be involved in my personal life at all or two, be jealous!”

Bruce flinched. Just like the first time it had happened two days ago, it didn’t feel as good as she thought it would.

“Um,” Martinez said in the echoing silence. “We’re actually just friends and I–I’m going to go give my statement now?”

Y/n barely noticed him leaving.

She was so sick of being so afraid, so heartbroken, so…everything.

“You’re going to apologize to him whether he’s just my friend or not,” she said, poking Bruce in the chest. He winced and tried to mask it by looking away. “I already told you, Bruce. I lost you three years ago. Stop acting like that didn’t fucking happen, because it did.”

Bruce’s hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Now he wasn’t looking her in the eye at all. “I didn’t mean–”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, yes you did.” But the words were bereft of the anger that had been present only moments before. She took a deep breath and a step backwards. “I’m just–sick of pretending things are the same, okay? I know you want to go all protective-best-friend thinking Martinez is my boyfriend or that he put me in danger but–I can’t just–Things aren’t–” Suddenly words were failing her. “It’s just not the same, okay?”

She watched as Bruce softened, too. “Y/n, I’m sorry, I–”

“Why did Martinez just run out of here like a bomb went off?” Gordon’s voice cut across whatever Bruce had been about to say.

“Mommy and Daddy were fighting,” y/n said drily, her defense mechanism of humor kicking in. Bruce made a choking noise. “Find anything useful? Like maybe Frank Gallo?”

She could almost hear Gordon’s teeth grinding from across the room. “No.”

“Bruce,” Alfred said from behind Gordon. “We have some things to discuss.”

Bruce gave her one last glance before following Alfred out.

Alone with Gordon now, y/n sank into her chair with a long sigh. She stared at the little coffee spills as if they had personally offended her. “If I spill any more coffee tonight I might kill someone.”

“Now that would be a sight. Looked like you were about to do Mr. Wayne in already.” Gordon chuckled and took the seat across from her. He flipped open a small notebook.

“I’m still not opposed to smothering him in his sleep,” she muttered. ��Arrest me if you have to.”

“How about I get your statement instead?”

It didn’t take long. She was basically a pro at giving statements to the police at this point. When she was done, she said, “I’m so…tired of giving statements to the police.”

Gordon regarded her with sharp eyes that didn’t miss anything. “We’re doing everything we can, y/n,” he said softly.

“I know, I know. It’s just–getting shot at was scary and all, but this is my home.” Her voice cracked. She ducked her head and fiddled with her coffee mug so Gordon wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes. “They’re telling me they can get to me here, too. Where I’m supposed to be safe.”

“I understand completely. We’ll get him. We’ll get them. I have a feeling he might show up on our doorstep sooner rather than later, with something bat-shaped pinned to him and a couple of black eyes and broken bones.” Gordon smirked. Y/n frowned as she realized she hadn’t seen Batman at all. Had he been downstairs? Maybe Bruce hadn’t wanted him to come upstairs. Her frown deepened. “Now, you’re going to have to help me convince Officer Martinez not to sleep in the elevator tonight. Or right outside your door. He’s pretty upset.”

“I’m surprised he still wants to hang around, considering how much of a dick Bruce was,” y/n said under her breath. “But I’ll do my best.”

Martinez took a lot of convincing, but eventually relented and went home to his girlfriend. He made y/n put a chair under her bedroom door handle first, though.

Bruce hadn’t reappeared by the time y/n went to bed.

She laid down, the words of their argument–or whatever the hell that had been–replaying on a loop. Being around him made her feelings go haywire. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so angry at him. The heartbreak of three years ago had taken over her life and she had to admit that the anger felt…almost good. Cathartic. But it also made her feel out of control. She didn’t feel like herself. Being mad at Bruce went against years of instincts. She was used to defending him, or him defending her, to being on the same team together.

She was still wide awake as dawn broke over the sky hours later.

Another thought kept turning over and over in her mind. Frank Gallo–or someone he had hired–had gotten into her home. Her very, very secure home.

She had been afraid before, but it was nothing like this. Her safe haven had been…sullied. They knew who she was, where she lived, and had basically said right to her face that not even Bruce Wayne’s money and power could keep her safe.

Added all together, y/n’s mind simply would not shut off in order for her to sleep.

It occurred to her again that she hadn’t seen Batman at all–had Gordon updated him on what happened? Because he had been in that photo, too. He had kept her alive, which she was certain had pissed off the Gallos. Was he a target? Maybe the picture of them together was a threat to both of them, but only given to her since they knew where she lived.

When she rolled over, her eyes caught on all of her research piled on the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes snagged on those three words: white knight syndrome.

She bet she had her answer about any possible feelings he might have. Even if he had shown up, he hadn’t tried to contact her, to see her, nothing. He was probably sick of having to keep her alive. He was probably leaving it up to Gordon and the police department now.

Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone.

Next Chapter

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cutielando · 5 months

Note

Can I have oneshots for Theodore nott and reader when he finds out that their daughter is constantly bullied at school?

PROTECTIVE

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Pairing: Theodore Nott x Wife!Reader x Daughter

School can be tough. That was a given. Especially if you end up being a Slytherin.

Theodore knew that better than anyone. Being a Slytherin himself, also being friends with the infamous Draco Malfoy always attracted some unwanted attention.

Most of the other students knew not to mess with him, but there was still the occasional bully who didn't give a shit and picked on him anyhow.

Because of that, he never wanted his kids to experience the kind of pain he went through when he was younger. He did everything in his power to make sure your children were safe and happy at school.

Oh, how wrong he was.

He didn't notice the signs early on, but you did.

Y/D/N was more distant than usual, spending an awful lot of her time in her room when she was home for the holidays and summer break, her letters always failed to mention any of her school friends and the atmosphere there, she was sadder and lost the spark that she always used to have in her eyes.

Thinking it could be something serious, you decided to talk to your husband about it.

"Tesoro?' you asked him one night as you entered your shared bedroom and saw his under the covers, reading a new book he had purchased the previous day.

"Yes, amore?" he put the book aside as you sat next to him, giving you his full attention.

"Can we talk about something?" you were nervous, you didn't even know how to approach this subject with Theo.

"Of course we can, amore. What's bothering you?" he took your hand in his, drawing soothing circles on the back of your palm.

"I'm worried about Y/D/N" you confessed.

His eyebrows were scrunched, not understanding where you were coming from.

"Why? Did something happen?"

"I don't know. She's just...different. She hasn't been herself in a while, she's always in her room, she barely eats or talks to us, her letters seem downright robotic and she's just not the same girl we know her as anymore. I'm worried something might be happening over at the school" you explained.

You felt Theo's hand that was holding yours tense up, stopping the movements.

You looked up and saw that his jaw was clenched, he was fuming and looking at a fixated point on the wall of your bedroom.

"Do you think someone might be making fun of her? Bullying her?" his voice was low and tense, making you sigh and shrug your shoulders.

"I don't know, but I think maybe we should talk to her. You should talk to her, you know she'll open up to you a lot faster than me" Theo nodded at that, numerous thoughts running through his mind.

Y/D/N had always been a daddy's girl ever since she was little and you were okay with that. Your younger son was a mama's boy, so it evened the scales a little bit.

You knew that Y/D/N would open up to your husband and you hoped that the problem wasn't as bad as you felt it was.

"I'll talk to her"

Come the next day at breakfast, Theo turned to your daughter as soon as you and your son left the kitchen to go to the living room.

"Y/D/N, love, I wanted to talk to you about something" he started and put his hand over hers.

"What is it?" she was avoiding eye contact with her father, which happened very rarely when they would talk.

Theo put a hand under her chin, slowly lifting up her face so she could look at him.

Her eyes had lost their sparkle, now void of any emotion and tired.

"What is bothering you, vita mia?" Theo asked, brushing his finger over her cheek.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop, wanting to let the pair talk in private. You instead focused all of your attention on your son, who was more than content to have his beloved mother's attention on him.

"Nothing, dad" Y/D/N tried to shrug Theo off, but he was having none of that.

"Stella, don't push me away. Your mother and I are very worried about you. You haven't been yourself for a while and it's concerning us. What is wrong, vita mia?"

Just one look into her father's eyes and she was sobbing, letting herself fall into his arms and clinging to him.

Your heart broke when you heard your little girl sob, taking everything in you not to run in there and scoop her up in your arms to reassure her that everything would be okay.

"I hate them, dad" Y/D/N whispered once her sobs had calmed down a little.

"Who do you hate, stella?" he was trying to keep his anger in check, his blood boiling at the thought of anyone hurting his princess.

"Everyone at school. They all make fun of me for being a Slytherin and they bully me because their parents hate you and now they say they're supposed to hate me too. I'm just so tired of always being the one getting hurt over there" the young girl finally confessed, her words breaking Theo's heart.

He pulled away from the hug, instead opting to take her face in his hands.

"Y/D/N, listen to me. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is allowed to make you feel bad or think any less about yourself. You are perfect, mi stella. You hung my moon and stars from the day you were born and both your mother and I know that you're destined for great things and a bright future. Never listen to what anyone else has to say about you when you know the truth about yourself. Do you understand?" the girl nodded, giving her father a small smile.

"I love you, dad" she said before kissing his cheek, hugging his body once again.

"I love you more, vita mia"

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calypso707 · 6 months

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Could I request an one shot for Astarion to react to gn crush who told him no one would ever be interested in them romantically?

Here you go, another request ! Enjoy and feel free to tell me what you think about it ! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

OS - Astarion x Gn reader : No place for love.

You had set up camp not far from the druids camp, in the Wilderness. You had spent the day fighting gnolls who had attacked a load on a road further west. The stillness of the night had gradually settled in, and your companions were quietly going about their usual business: Lae'zel was sharpening her blade, Shadowheart was meditating, Wyll was enjoying a glass of Blingdenstone Blush, and Gayle had lost his mind in the wonders of the Weave. Astarion, meanwhile, was immersed in decoding a necromancy manuscript that you had found earlier in an old laboratory. You could see from the expressions on his face that it was a complex task.

Despite everything, your attention remained focused on him, and just looking at him made your heart flutter. You had started to develop feelings for him. You realised how irrational it was: falling in love with a two-century-old vampire was madness. The bards would delight in the absurdity of the thing, could easily draw inspiration from your story to entertain the populace. But you could not help yourself, you were undeniably attracted to this creature. You had allowed him to feed on your neck a few times already, and perhaps you naively hoped that he would develop similar feelings over time.

You ran the damp cloth in your hand over the back of your neck one last time, wiping away the sweat that was sticking to your skin. You looked down at the water trapped in the wooden bucket in front of you, watching your reflection ripple for a few seconds before sighing heavily.

You tossed the rag into the bucket before finally moving towards Astarion, a knot forming in your stomach as you approached him. You had to be honest and tell him how you felt, you had no choice. When he heard your footsteps, he finally lifted his crimson gaze to focus on you, a puckish smile on his lips. He slammed the book shut, pressing it against his chest.

"Oh.. Is it dinner time already?"

You automatically put your fingers to your neck. You had given him permission to feed on your blood just this morning. "Yes, shall we do this inside?"

Astarion gave a satisfied smile before moving away from the entrance to his tent, opening the way for you to enter his lair. His perfume wafted through the small place, a pleasant blend of brandy, rosemary and bergamot. Gods, you loved that smell. You finally cleared your throat as if to give yourself some composure before turning to him: "I would also like to tell you something…"

The vampire examined you for a long time before finally letting out a long sigh, bringing his hand to his hip. "I should have known…"

"About what? I haven't told you yet." You took offence. The unease you were feeling in your body was getting heavier, the anxiety was getting to you gradually.

"You wish to tell me that you are starting to have feelings for me, am I wrong?" questioned the former magistrate.

You lowered your eyes at his words, you must not weaken in front of him. You should have known better. You were facing a man who had been alive for two hundred years, a man who was able to read people and you were like an open book in front of him.

"And what would you like me to say? That I love you too?" He pouted sulkily, bringing his other hand to his heart.

"Would that be a lie?" You dared to ask.

"Of course that would be a lie. I mean, what were you thinking? That because we share a similar goal that you and I could have an adventure? That we could have a picnic in a field of flowers and share the wonders of the world? No, my dear, this is real life. No one is going to declare their love for you and you are probably not destined for a happy ending."

He snapped his fingers as he said this, as if to pull you out of the hypnosis you had fallen into. His words were hard to hear and had the same effect as a blade plunging into your heart. He knew how to be cruel, both in his actions and in his words. And you forced yourself not to lose your countenance, you were trying to fight back the tears.

"You don't have to be so… Cruel.." you say, your voice almost broke.

"It is what I am, it is what I do," concludes Astarion.

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #romance #astarion vampire #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x gn reader #astarion bg3 #astarion #gender neutral reader #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate

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steventhusiast · 9 months

Text

On a Platform With You

you can also read this on ao3

modern steddie meet-cute at the train station

Steve's had to get used to a lot of things, moving from the middle of nowhere to the outskirts of a city. But one thing he doesn't mind is replacing his morning drive to work with a public transport commute. There's something nice about being able to read a book and relax as the train takes him to the station nearest to his job.

The first time he gets the train, he's quite nervous about it. What if he gets on the wrong train? What if he ends up late to work? Hence, he's very much in his own head trying to remember which platform he needs to be on and at what time, and almost misses him.

The sound of someone cursing to themselves (quite loudly for 8:35 in the morning) along with the thud of something/one hitting the ground draws his attention to the other platform of the small above-ground station. He's initially worried someone had fallen down some steps or having a medical episode, but then his eyes find the person that had cursed. And there quite possibly the most beautiful man Steve's ever seen is stood with his hands on his hips as he looks at his guitar case on the ground, open where the latch had come open with the impact of him dropping it.

The mystery man has dark hair that's long and wavy, and Steve can't quite see his face completely, but he's pretty sure he has bangs. The man bends down to re-close his guitar case and Steve lets his eyes trail down the man's body to look at his outfit (and maybe admire his figure). It's not the kind of thing Steve would wear, that's for sure, but the ripped jeans and slightly tatty band t-shirt covered in a simple flannel shirt undeniably suit the man. Steve notices the abundance of rings on mystery man's fingers, and the beginnings of a tattoo peeking out from the bottom of his rolled up sleeves just before his train pulls into the station and obscures his view.

On the way to work, Steve can't help the way mystery man stays on his mind. He wonders what he was doing at the station so early in what didn't look like work clothes, wonders if he's good at guitar, and mostly wonders if he'll see him again.

He doubts it, but the idea of seeing the gorgeous man again makes him smile a little, so he hopes so.

Since then, the man is somehow at the station when Steve gets there for his commute to work. Without fail. Every day.

Sometimes he's sat on a bench with a book held open in one large hand, eyes focused and brows slightly furrowed. Sometimes he's got his phone pressed to his ear while he speaks animatedly into it, using his free hand to gesture wildly. Sometimes he's just leaning against the wall, eyes looking droopy and sleepy as he watches the departure board vacantly.

One day Steve and mystery man even make eye contact. Mystery man jumps a bit when he looks up and notices Steve’s eyes on him, and then his eyes scrunch up a little as he offers Steve a smile and a reserved wave. It's adorable.

At his next hang out with Robin after that occurrence, Steve brings up mystery man to Robin. He knows she's going to make so much fun of him for his crush based on nothing but watching the guy from afar, but when they settle on his couch with their takeout boxes and she asks him how things are going in his new place, he has to tell her.

"So- you're telling me you see him every morning, and you think he's hot or whatever, but you haven't talked to him?" She summarises with one eyebrow raised, looking decidedly unimpressed.

Steve nods with a shrug.

"If some random guy came up to me at 8:35 in the morning when I'm on my way to work and flirted with me I'd be really weirded out." He says to defend himself.

Robin rolls her eyes.

"I may be a failure at relationships, but you're Steve Harrington! Need I remind you how you had every girl at high school wrapped around your finger in maybe three minutes of talking to them? I hate to say it, but you're pretty smooth, Stevie. If you think he's hot, and you wanna talk to him, I say talk to him. What's the worst that could happen?" She pauses to scoop a mouthful of food into her mouth, and then holds one hand out to silence Steve when he goes to open his mouth, "Actually, don't answer that."

"I'm not king Steve anymore though. And I doubt my dumbass pickup lines that worked when I was fifteen will work now. I haven't been smooth at all that stuff since maybe when I managed to get Nance to date me." He says, letting himself be a little dramatic just for Robin's awkward attempt at a pep talk.

"Okay, well. Either you talk to him, or you're banned from mooning about him to me during our sacred takeout time." She says with a shrug. Steve deflates a little, because that definitely is not the pep talk he's looking for.

"Compromise time." He suggests, "If, and that's a big if, we somehow end up on the same train- hell, even the same platform -at the same time, I promise I'll talk to him."

He's looking at the ceiling as he says it, and when Robin doesn't respond immediately he looks over at her and sees her with an expectant pinkie held out. He shakes it with his.

"Deal." She says.

Admittedly, he doesn't expect it to ever happen. Mystery man is always on the other platform. A safe distance away for Steve to admire. That's why he makes the promise; he's pretty confident he'll never have to fulfill it.

But then, not even a week later, Steve has to pause after he walks onto his platform. Because mystery man isn't on the other platform. He's sad about it for a moment, before he looks around to see if any benches are free and sees mystery man sat on one, his guitar case leaning against the free seat next to him.

His breath catches, because, fuck, now he has to keep his promise to Robin. If he doesn't, she'll know. Somehow. They're psychically linked, he swears. She knows everything.

He steels himself where he's stood, takes a deep breath, and tries to work up the courage to go over to the guy. All he has to do is say hi, maybe make some small talk. He could ask about his guitar? Would that be annoying? He's staring at the other platform, trying to consider if it would be inappropriate to ask about the rings on the man's fingers, when someone clears their throat next to him.

He jolts a little where he's stood, and glances over to see mystery man himself stood there, looking slightly nervous but with a small, easy smile on his face. Steve's frozen for a second, eyes wide, but eventually he offers the man what he hopes is a friendly smile.

"Are you my appendix?" Mystery man blurts out.

Steve's eyebrows furrow, all of his nerves replaced with pure confusion.

"What?" He mutters.

"Because I have no idea what you do or how you work, but I feel like I should take you out."

There's silence for a good five seconds after mystery man finishes his incredibly lame attempt at a pickup line, and Steve keeps his eyes on him as his small smile slowly fades to a more anxious expression. And then Steve laughs, because what the fuck?

"What the fuck, that was awful." He giggles, and lifts one hand to cover his mouth as he does, because he should not be smiling so big at that awful flirting attempt. Definitely a worse one than what he was going to attempt.

Mystery man looks relieved, and then leans on the wall next to Steve and angles his whole body toward him. Having all of the man's attention is a little overwhelming, but good.

"Awful?" He scoffs, seeming affronted, "If it was awful, why're you smiling so big at it, hm? Yeah, I can still see it even though you tried to hide it, pretty boy."

Steve flushes at the words, and bites his lip.

"You calling me pretty boy is skipping at least four relationship steps." He retorts. It gets a laugh out of mystery man, before he leans even closer to Steve.

"Maybe I should start with asking for your name then?"

"Steve."

"Nice to meet you, Steve. I'm Eddie." Not-so-mystery man introduces himself, and then pauses briefly before smiling, "Now can I call you pretty boy?"

Steve rolls his eyes, but nods.

They continue talking until the train pulls up, and Steve is once again made aware of just how close they'd been standing when Eddie leaves his personal bubble to lean down and pick up his guitar case so they can board the train.

They sit together, knees touching, and Steve smiles as Eddie squints and tries to read the announcement screen on their carriage. It's turned off, so Eddie turns to Steve after a moment.

"This is really embarrassing, but where does this train actually go?" Eddie asks.

"What?" Steve asks, confused.

"So... I maybe only got on this train because I wanted a chance to talk to you? I normally get on the train that comes to platform 2 at this time..." Eddie confesses, and Steve laughs a little again.

"I know."

Eddie may have awful pickup lines, but he's definitely more bold than Steve. He thinks they'll mesh quite well. Hopefully for a while.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #been trying to write this for a solid month #finally like what i ended up with :D #mywriting

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vqrtualheartss · 9 months

Text

ᴅ☆ᴇ'ꜱ ꜱᴀʏ|

Y'ALL MY PAGE?? LIKE, no like seriously thank like all of you for supporting me🥹. It means a lot to me and all the comments mwah thank you so so much. Also, how do you reply to reblogs..

I've been sick for the last few days so that's why I haven't been producing anything so, my bad. I'll try and get started soon. swr

Also, I am not trying to sexualise Miles because, He's a minor. I'm a minor. If you're reading this I expect you to be a minor

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 Warnings ─ smoking/ vaping, suggestive content (very suggestive) , kissing, miles is aged up to 19 - reader 18

𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓾𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 | So, basically, you're at a lil' get-together with your friends —These can be whoever— and like every teenage sleepover , truth or dare was being played. Unlike the traditional game of playing it individually, this time however it was in randomised pairs and you got paired with Miles. How lucky were you? He's been the person you've been crushing on for so. so. long since freshman. Casting your feelings aside, you convinced yourself that it was useless liking him given how he just sees you as a "little sister". To hell with that. They resurfaced themselves as you all grew, you aged like fine wine, he got fine-er (??) it was almost impossible not to.

"Truth or dare (y/n)?" It was past 11 on a rainy night, I didn't see the bad in any of the choices. "Dare"

"Feeling risky are we?" f/n teased as Miles let out a coarse laugh barely passing over my head. I was set between his legs that circled under mine stretching over his. "Pick a number" Resting on one of her arms she anticipated my answer, her partner rubbing his thumb over their interlocked hands.

The request confused me a bit, but I replied anyway "32" her eyes glistened with mischief passing me.. a vape? Brand new too. Just as confused as I was, Miles leaned over to inspect the item, pressing down into my back I squirmed uncomfortably . Using his hands to steady himself, he held onto my hips stopping at my ear muttering, "My bad, I'll be gentle in the future". I hummed a shaky 'mhm' in reply, trying to distract myself from thoughts .

Leaning at a lower angle, our bodies held direct contact from our pelvises, not to mention his hands that were situated on the small of my back rubbing circles and drawing lines upwards, slightly arching it. Refraining from making any type of movement —given we were around people—, I focused back to (f/n) who was instead of explaining my dare, sending me the look with a devilry ridden smirk. shit.

Knowing her by now, I knew she was most definitely planning something, and as much as I wanted to maintain a blithe expression, I couldn't. The feelings of his cold rings on my back had me weak, trembling lightly each time he used his knuckles or pressed harder. The low, knowing chuckles he released becoming frequent as I fumbled underneath his fingers, widening my eyes at (f/n) I urged for her to start.

Giggling, she began "So, for this dare, I want you to take 32 hits" I tilted my head because she pointed to..Miles, but gave the vape to me.

"Let me continue, hold on, She'll be the one giving you the smoke. Until finished you two are excluded from the game"

I hesitated looking at the vape still in my hand, pushing it out as I protested. It wasn't that I didn't want to do it, I doubted that he would

"I don't think that-"

"Shit's easy, my tolerance is high" Using a hand of his to apply even more pressure to my back, he used the other to push away my hand.

"Okay and?" I observed attentively, (f/n)'s tone was a little more annoyed than before, and knowing what I know she likes to fight.

"Just saying, if you're gonna give me a dare atleast make it interesting" where's this going? I turned away from Miles to view both faces. He pulled me back, placing both hands around my waist squeezing it before (f/n) added

"Then do it 'till he's sky high then, be my guest" Their bickering brought on the attention of the rest of the group looking at us. He shrugged, she scoffed winking at me discreetly before turning focus to the rest of the group. Okayy then, I know her reason but what's his ?

As obvious as it was that we both wanted to do this I turned around, kneeling. Placing a hand on my lower thigh he shook his head snickering "Your knees are going to go weak if you stay like that." he brought his legs together, suggesting I'd sit on them. Somewhat reluctant I brought myself over, slowly draping each of my legs on a side of his.

Taking the first hit I leaned over to kiss Miles, exchanging the smoke from my mouth to his as he opened giving me access, things went like that for a while. Around hit 15 his hands found my back, making my body involuntarily arch as they raised each time I bent over and sliding down when I retracted. I did not have a high tolerance for nicotine and you could probably tell by my state. My eyes rested low, body completely pressing into each other's as I wrapped an arm around his neck collecting myself. Nearing his mouth to my ear he cooed, "Poor thing, can't even function under a little smoke".

Pressing his lips just beneath my ear lobe I felt the corners of his lips turn upward, letting out a raspy laugh before pulling back. Taking my chin into his hand he turned my vision and focus to him, taunting as we made eye contact "Show me you can do it"

I gave a jestful scowl that turned into a smile accepting his challenge. Inhaling the fumes a smug look plastered onto his face, grinning as I took a long hit.

Leaning over with slightly puffed cheeks, I was certain he didn't see through my bluffing, if anything I was more than sky high, but what's the harm in getting kisses from Miles? Nothing. exactly. Safe to say that kiss lasted longer than needed but who cares? He wanted it. I wanted it. We'll probably forget about everything in the morning being high and all.

Pulling back I placed a hand on my fluctuating chest to atleast try to control my breathing. Miles looked down at me with the same smirk whilst chewing on his bottom lip, his eyes resting lower, hand slipping from behind my nape to the level of his other one just above my ass.

Twisting my head slightly I noticed the room alot emptier, a result of pairs "using the bathroom" lol. The others were either asleep or in other rooms, had it been that long? Shrugging to the question I hoisted myself over Miles' body to get up , well tried to. Pulling me down by my waist he took the hand I had on my shirt, intertwining them as we kissed, pushing back, I shook my head

"We can't, you're high and under the influence" I reminded him, well myself

"We both are. Drunk actions, sober thoughts right?" Slipping in to temptation I sighed placing my head onto his shoulder. "Tell me to stop and I'll do just that. Just say the word" I turned my face away from his, staying silent. He knew what was happening, he knew the effect he had on me, he knew everything

I bit back "I hate you" "I'll have you saying otherwise"

©vqrtualheartss 2023 ©dae 2023

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randomfoggytiger · 6 months

Text

Gethsemane, Bill Scully Apologia, and Maggie the Emergency Contact

Dialogue and Play-By-Play Analysis:

Bill: "I picked up the phone when they called Mom. I thought you could use a change of clothes."

Scully: "Thank you... where's Mom?"

Believing her cancer is still a secret, Scully automatically places Bill's importance below her mother, wanting to talk freely with Maggie (without Bill.) Bill sees and understands this; and is hurt that she still won't open up to him despite being here, now, for her. As of yet, he doesn't act on that hurt.

Bill: "I didn't tell Mom what happened...."

Scully: "...But I'm okay. Luckily."

Bill: "You're not okay, Dana."

Scully: "I told Mom not to tell you."

Bill: "Why?"

Scully: "Because it's very personal. Because I don't want sympathy."

For all of the just criticism against Bill later in this arc, here he is holding back his anger (an expression of his hurt) and listening, really listening to his sister. He keeps quiet, giving Scully room to fully explain herself; and even sympathetically locks eyes, giving her his full attention.

Another thing of note: he is staring at Scully with the exact look of sympathy she wanted to avoid. Mulder and Maggie know her enough to acquiesce to her "I'm fine"s; but Bill is her life-long peer, and siblings can't hide truths from each other as effectively as they can their parents or partners.

"You think you can cure yourself."

Bill realizes that his sister never told her own family-- him-- about her cancer because she does, even now, believe she can cure herself. He's stunned, shocked, even appalled; and that leaks into his voice, coming across as judgmental.

Scully doesn't deny it, caught; and sighs, frustrated, that he divined and overly-simplified something she hadn't expressed to anyone and probably would not have been able to without a beautiful speech prepared ahead of time.

"Mom tells me that you've gotten worse. That your cancer's gone into your bloodstream."

This explains why Maggie told Bill in the first place: she cracked under the strain Dana's edict of secrecy put her under, watching her daughter slowly die without any apparent attempts to circumvent that death or even to bond over their shared tragedy. Bill became her only recourse... and Bill spilled the beans (as he does, again, in A Christmas Carol.)

Scully is shaken by his bluntness, unable to shy away from the truth spoken so baldly to her face.

"What are you doing at work getting knocked down? Beaten up? What are you trying to prove-- that you're going to go down fighting?"

Scully: "Now, c'mon Bill--"

Scully is deferring back to an old sibling dynamic: Bill misunderstanding, or only understanding enough to feel she's acting out of turn; and her attempting to draw him away from his preconceived notions. In this case, however, he's right; and she's avoiding the truth of that (subconsciously.)

Bill stops her by slapping down the clothes, getting her full attention.

"Y'know what Mom is going through? Why do you think I didn't tell her when they called?"

"What should be doing?"

Bill: "We have a responsibility-- not just to ourselves, but to the people in our lives."

And he's absolutely correct here: Scully has been so focused on work and its promise of a cure that she's forgotten to give space to those suffering alongside her.

"Just, just because I haven't bared my soul to you or to Father McCue or to God, it doesn't mean I'm not responsible to those important to me."

Here Scully reveals she thought emotional distance and soldiering on was her way of protecting her loved ones from her burdens, providing them strength in the face of her worsening health. In reality, it worsened their fears and burdens; and furthered their isolation... except for, ironically, Mulder, who wasn't ready to face the implications of her impending death, anyway.

"To who? This guy Mulder? But where is he, Dana? Where is he through all this?"

Bill is less right here: from his perspective, Dana has (once again) wrapped herself up with a man whose authority and work ethic supersedes Bill's love and concern for his sister-- another in the pattern of their late father and Daniel Waterston and Jack Willis. Bill isn't stupid: his above reproach also reveals he knows Mulder knows about Scully's cancer; and the fact that her partner did and still left her alone to deal with it to "pursue his career" while Bill hasn't been able to be there to support her at all eats away at him, makes him hate the man. (And still he's civil when he meets Mulder, even talks with him in terms he believes a workaholic will understand-- "Let's keep the work away from here"-- only getting rough when he misinterprets Mulder's blank face in response-- "Let her die with dignity.")

Despite being wrong here, Bill still hits the mark; because Mulder did wander off on a quest. But Scully can't argue for Mulder without betraying her own reticence, her own need to keep Mulder in the dark for Mulder's sake-- because that would betray her feelings in a way that she doesn't want to discuss with Bill, especially after Mulder has consistently dodged that serious conversation for years now. So, she picks up her clothes and ends the conversation.

In-Depth Analysis

Maggie Was Scully's Emergency Contact

The hospital called Maggie when Scully was rushed in, unconscious; and while this doesn't outright disprove the theory Mulder might also be an emergency contact, it certainly fits in with the pattern of him being called to the hospital and let into Scully's room by Maggie and not the other way around (i.e. One Breath and Wetwired.) Furthermore, Mulder isn't alerted (that I know of) to a missed call from the hospital after his return to civilization, meaning the hospital didn't notify him at all.

Bill the Bully?

Is Bill a despicable figure? Most definitely... in a deleted Memento Mori scene-- which is why I think they cut it. Though his words are brusque, even cruel in their blunt honesty, Bill, apart from that scene, doesn't seem to willfully inflict or weaponize guilt against his sister, wielding it only as a reminder of how much her family is left out of her life, how much they want to be there for her and don't understand why she won't let them in. It's a fundamental difference in how they approach life; and both are forceful about their insistence on doing things their own way.

Scully is used to being everyone's source of strength (Maggie places her on a pedestal even above her brothers in Memento Mori), which hinders her from opening up or betraying her weakness. Being "the strong one" for so long turned into a fear of failing others; but this reticence has the opposite effect, ostracizing and distancing her family (and Mulder) in her struggles to keep them unaffected. Their divide grows as the years go on (though it seems an equilibrium of sorts has been reached after Emily, since she mentions them fondly in How the Ghosts Stole Christmas and indirectly in Millennium.)

Bill Is Right (in This Instance)

On its face, Bill's speech is unrelenting and out of left field... but is it, really?

Bill is told about his sister's cancer only when it has become irredeemably terminal. He arrives on land, either before or after Maggie's revelation, and finds the rest of the family ignorant and his mother having to shoulder that burden, alone, because his sister refused to let her tell anyone else the news-- meaning, Maggie has been suffering in silence the entire cancer arc, trying to abide by her daughter's terms for space and silence on the topic. However, Scully's definitive terminal diagnosis broke her; and Maggie, having no one to turn to support because Dana still refused to talk about it, finally confessed to her priest and reached out to her son for strength. Bill sees how hard this has been on her and tries to alleviate that burden by adopting his sister's methods: keeping Maggie in the dark as much as possible. It honors what he knows to be his sister's wishes and his mother's fears.

In this scene Bill is absolutely in the right. He and his sister, while not incredibly close, have no ill will between them; and he finds out that not only has she been slowly dying for months and sworn their mother to secrecy but she also still refused to tell him, even when he dropped everything to bail her and Maggie out with this act of kindness. This is wrong-- it is-- and his speech rebuking his sister is as deserved as Scully's are to Mulder whenever he acts only in stubborn self-interest.

Bill is hurt, Bill is grieved; and Bill drives that home, peeling back his sister's denial by exposing her true intent: "You think you can cure yourself." The ludicrous nature of her expectations-- cure incurable cancer and never tell a soul so she won't have to 'suffer' the shame or embarrassment of their sympathy or pity-- galls him; and he's right. It's Scully's struggle and her burden; but it's not just her struggle or burden: her family and loved ones are losing her, too, and that pain is just as powerfully frightening. Bill wants more from her than an immovable pillar of strength-- and that's a good thing. Maggie needed her to be "the strong one", and Mulder needed her to keep fighting; but Bill just wanted his sister to tell him the truth and let him in.

A last note: Bill grew up with Dana-- he knows her propensity to get lost in father figures and demanding authorities. He probably sees Mulder as another Daniel Waterston or Jack Willis, an extension of her undisguised adoration for their late father. He's naturally protective (as we see in Redux II, though grossly misplaced) and thinks Scully is losing that stability in herself the more engrossed she becomes in her work (ex. Gethsemane-Redux II and A Christmas Carol.) These fears and concerns are expressed in overbearing finger-wagging and anger rather than communication, a (sadly) common affliction in a family growing a more distant with time and lives necessarily apart.

Scully Believed She Could Cure Herself

Since Memento Mori, Scully's modus operandi has been to avoid, avoid, avoid the topic of her cancer (and the death of her father, her abduction, etc.) The following cases rarely touched on her illness unless she had a concerning diagnosis or needed further treatment, i.e. Zero Sum and Elegy. Radiation was likely ruled out as ineffective since the skirmish with Dr. Scanlon (and was a drain of her valuable energy and health without any chance of helping, regardless); so, Scully probably opted for more obscure treatments, buying time while she and Mulder chipped away at their work.

In the back of her mind, she believed, truly, that she wouldn't die: that her cancer could be tucked away from her family and cured before Bill or the others ever found out. As we know, Maggie bore the brunt of her daughter's edict of silence alone, finally caving when the cancer reached Scully's bloodstream. When Bill waits for an explanation-- staring at his sister's defiance and stubbornness and pure conviction that she's fine and that the family shouldn't be worried about her at all-- he figures out her blind expectation and avoidance-bordering-on-denial and says, appalled: "You think you can cure yourself." Scully dips her head, exposed and embarrassed.

The beginning of Gethsemane proves Scully was still denial: "my dying wish" she professes on the one hand only to reject the priest and shake her head at Bill with the other. No, Scully did not expect to die alone without her family there. When Bill demands, "We have a responsibility-- not just to ourselves, but to the people in our lives", she parries, "Just because I don't bare my soul to you or to Father McCue or to God." Scully thought she was doing her duty by keeping her loved ones in her thoughts while carrying out her solitary battle. When Bill strips her of her further excuses-- "Who? To this guy Mulder?"-- it peels back her hyper-focused perspective, reminding Scully that it's not just her and Mulder fighting the world.

She did her family and Mulder and herself a disservice by pushing them all away to "protect them", as she realizes in Redux II: being "strong" stripped them of the ability to support each other and was damaging in the long run. In this, Bill is undeniably correct. However, where Bill is wrong is that he doesn't see that Scully believes in Mulder's ability to save her, that by following him she is doing what is best for herself.

Her partner's fervor and hope give her strength; and his inability to break under defeat keeps her fighting even in her darkest hours (and does end up saving her life.) Scully put such faith in Mulder and his abilities and his theories that she kept council only with herself (as much as possible) to keep him going, to keep the weight off his shoulders (and her mother's and her family's) so that they could move forward as a well-oiled machine, ready to snatch the cure whenever they got their hands on it. And Mulder did get his hands on it... and then it failed.

She's dying; but it's not until the cure fails that the dam breaks: everything Scully had been fearing comes rushing out of her. She gives in, crying to her mother about her crumbling lack of faith-- because the miracle cure didn't work, because her months of waiting and hoping in private were all for naught, because she's going to die and there's no possible way to escape. But it's also freeing: she can own her fear, hold onto her mother, clutch Mulder's hand, cry with the priest, finally lean into and start to heal from the weights she's been holding on her back, alone.

And she prays: death is near.

Scully Wanted to Please Bill, Too

As she told Ed Jerse in Never Again, "There are other fathers."

The ouroboros twirls on and on in her personal life, goading her to both make a stand for herself and to placate Bill's expected reactions. In this situation, she did deserve his anger; however, this dynamic continues to play out in Redux II and A Christmas Carol, separate circumstances that are outside Bill's scope of understanding or perspective. After each confrontation, her brother always backs off and begrudgingly acquiesces his sister's boundaries; but it's easy to see why he clings to his late father's behaviors-- viewing them as the only way his sister will confide in him-- and why Scully automatically responds to-- albeit with more guilt than openness-- and rejects his methods.

It's an aspect of their relationship that fell to the wayside as the series barreled onward; but there are hints of resignation on his part after the events of Emily unfolded the way they did (silent support in the courthouse and true remorse in the church.) Scully, however, is locked in grief and unwilling to open back up, yet. We're never shown on-screen what happens next; but he seems to have caused her no further problems in spite of her professional and personal scares in the future (including almost being burned alive, an unexpected trip to Antarctica, job demotion, and getting gut shot all within the span of a few months.) Perhaps he gave her up for loss, perhaps he stayed close but distant, perhaps he withdrew from the drama all together. We'll never know; and, ultimately, it's up to individual interpretation.

Conclusion

This scene sets up the hinge upon which the cancer arc (and any future Scully family drama) twists and turns.

I don't believe Bill is bad, or even malevolent: he, like any other person in a family strained with distance and death, doesn't seem to blame Scully entirely or for long; and only wishes to get through to her somehow. We saw him bully her as a child but we also saw him gift and teach her how to use a bb gun. Scully, meanwhile, balks at and softens over Bill's bluster and overstepping, always effectively putting him in his place after courteously listening to his opinion. We saw her yell and shove him as a child but we also saw her gleefully play alongside he and Charlie.

In conclusion: like all sibling relationships, there are headbutts and there are fights; but it seems, at least by their conversation here and succeeding ones in the future, that any hitch or bump in the road is smoothed over, ironed out, or fixed before it becomes permanent. Bill makes excellent points that Scully takes into consideration, changing her future dealings with Maggie and Bill and even Mulder (namely, her willingness to open up in Detour); and Bill, having said his peace, supports his sister in her decisions the rest of this arc and later in S5.

That we know about.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #S4 #Gethsemane #cancer arc #Scully #Bill Scully Jr.#Maggie Scully #Mulder #Bill Scully Apologia #meta #xfiles #x-files #the x files #analysis

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hihelloheyhowdy · 1 year

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I really like your nagi x itoshi!reader scenerio, can you make a part two where in the reader and nagi doing boyfriend girlfriend things and sae and rin finally saw it😄

This idea is super fun, i really like it! I personally thought of two scenarios so here they are. In first scenario mentions of fem!reader for this. Reader is also Rin's twin in this

Scenario one; your brothers came home to find out you and Nagi were hanging out home alone (they proceed to scold you)

The house was finally quiet for one moment. Your parents were away for the weekend, Sae had gone out to do you don't know what, and Rin was out practicing soccer. You really wanted to see Nagi, but you weren't in the mood to leave the comfort of your room so naturally you invited him over. This wasn't the first time Nagi came over, however it was usually you going to his apartment.

Since he lived alone Nagi's apartment was the better choice, considering the fact your brothers can get pretty loud arguing. So when you heard the doorbell ring you smiled widely going to greet Nagi at the door.You haven't seen him in two weeks due to both of you having midterms, and therefore you felt eager to finally spend time with him not over face time. You led Nagi upstairs to your room, where you were planning to watch the Hunger Games movies.

You paid no mind that half way through Catching Fire both your brothers had gotten home. You were to focused on the warmth that radiates off of Nagi, his fingers drawing little shapes on your hips, and the smell of sandalwood mixed with lavender fabric softer you'd missed. Cuddling with Nagi was always comforting, especially since he was taller and buffer than most practical engulfing you into him.

However your peace was ruined in moments as Rin aggressively swung open the door of your bedroom to ask you a question, and was met with a sight he certainly was not expecting.

"Hey (y/n) Sae and I are thinking of ordering take out-"

He stopped mid sentence to take in the sight in front of him, eyes shifting between the two of you before stopping to slightly glare at Nagi then returning back to you.

"What is he doing here?"

"I was bored, alone, and I haven't seen him in weeks so I invited him over."

"You invited him over? when you were home alone?!"

"No! What ew Rin it's not like that!"

"What is it like then (y/n)?!"

Sae made his way upstairs due to all the commotion going on.

"What are you two arguing about?"

"(y/n) decided to have her boyfriend over while she was home alone."

"What?!"

"No it's not like that! That's what I'm trying to explain we did nothing! We are just watching a movie."

Sae narrowed his eyes at Nagi.

"Why would you agree to come over, if you know no one was home? What were you intentions?"

"Because (y/n) asked me too, and I haven't seen her in awhile. I was just here cause I missed her."

"Is that so?"

"I don't trust that lukewarm idiot. Aren't there like rules against this? Shouldn't you be grounded?"

"No, mom and dad have let Nagi and I hangout alone."

Sae then spoke up.

"Why would they let you do that?"

"Because they trust me! Because they believe I can make my own smart decisions, and you two should also believe that! Rin and I are the same age Sae, so why do you always treat him like he's more mature? If anything you're both still the ones held up on a childish feud!"

"It's not that I trust Rin more than you, but I don't know Nagi well therefore I feel protective of my little sister who is with him alone."

Nagi wasn't really the confrontation type, but he felt as though he should step in as things were getting heated. He thought it'd be best to stop you before you said something you'd regret.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I can assure you that I didn't come here to do anything... inappropriate with your sister. I'm just here because I missed my girlfriend, and wanted to have a date. If it makes you uncomfortable I can stop visiting when (y/n)'s home alone."

Sae narrowed his eyes at him. The pointed a finger at him.

"You with me, in the kitchen, alone. Rin can come if he wants"

Nagi got up, and followed Sae and Rin downstairs. Despite your protests that Nagi had nothing the prove, he felt this would be the most peaceful approach that would get things over with the fastest. He didn't even go through this much trouble meeting your parents for the first time.

After a few minutes Nagi returned upstairs, and proceeded to cuddle with you again. You looked up at him in contemplation.

"What did you say to them to get them to calm down?"

"mmh just told 'em the truth."

"Which is?"

"That you're smart enough to make your own choices, and I love you so I'll always respect them."

You smiled softly at your boyfriend, he always had a pacifist approach to things. You gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"I love you too."

"Just so we are clear the door stays open!"

"Rin you ruined the moment!"

You take Nagi out with your brothers so they can all "meet" for the first time

Your brothers were undoubtedly some of the most important men in your life, but so was Nagi Seishiro your boyfriend. So you really wanted them to meet, and you were really hoping they would get along. Of course you knew they'd met in blue lock, but you didn't want them to meet as some of the people in your life closest to you. In order to achieve that you planned the perfect outing starting with brunch.

You sat at the table with Nagi by your side waiting for your brothers to show up. You put your head on Nagi's shoulder as you watched him play a shooter game of his phone. A few minutes later you heard Sae's voice as he walked into the restaurant, you smiled and waved them over. Once everyone was sat down you started introducing them- although you knew it wasn't necessary.

"Sae, Rin, as you know this is Nagi Seishiro, my boyfriend. Sei as you know these are my brothers Sae and Rin. I don't know what goes on in blue lock, but for today I want you both to forget about that. Today is a day where we are all getting along, because you're all very important to me."

Sae was the one to spark up conversation with Nagi first.

"So Nagi apart from football, what other things do you do?"

"I really like gaming, and I read lots of Manga."

"How'd you and (y/n) meet?"

"After the U-20 match."

Rin then spoke up glaring at you.

"Wait so when you were supposed to be there supporting your brothers, you instead were trying to get with my team mate?!"

"No! I did come there to support you and Sae, I even went to congratulate you on the team win after it's just I happened to bump into Nagi... really it's not my fault your teammates so cute."

"I did not pick my teammates. Nagi there are like rules to being on a team, like not dating your teammates sibling."

"Wait is that an actual rule."

Sae shook his head, as Nagi looked confused.

"No it's not, but maybe there should be."

"No there should not."

"Of course you say that, you're dating your twin brothers teammate."

"Technically I'm not on your team anymore."

"Okay guys let's just figure out what to get."

After everyone's food arrived Nagi took some of the strawberries out of his fruit salad, and put them on your plate. You look up at him.

"I know you like 'em more than me, so you can have 'em."

"Thanks Sei."

It was a small affectionate act, but it kept happening through out the day. When you were walking through the street your hand naturally reached out to Nagi's to hold. When you all got ice cream, you fed Nagi a bite of yours by holding it up to him. When you got cold Nagi gave you his jacket, stating he was wearing a hoodie under so it's fine. Your brothers were getting increasingly annoyed with the growing amount of pda. However the straw that broke the camels back was at the arcade. They played a few games, and Nagi won all of them. They knew he liked games, but not that he was this good at them.

"Oh my god Sei look. They're so cute!"

You were pointing to these fluffy penguin plushies that were white and pastel blue inside of the claw machines.

"Want me to win you one?"

Nagi didn't even need an answer as your eyes gained this sparkle of happiness to them. He walked over to the claw machine, and swiped the arcade card. After careful focus he ended up getting it first try handing it to you. Your eyes some how started shining even brighter.

"Thanks Sei, 'm gonna name him Shiro cause you won him."

You seemed to completely forget about your brothers as you leaned up, and gave Nagi a peak. Despite the fact that it was barely a second that your lips touched each other this finally cracked the two.

"Did we come here to get to know Nagi, or so we can just third wheel on your little date?"

Rin seemed incredibly annoyed as he stared daggers at the two of you. Sae just seemed bored of the whole ordeal.

"For once I agree with Rin. We already had brunch, and got beaten in a bunch of games. If you two want to stay on your date feel free to, but we're leaving."

"Oh sorry I kinda forgot you're both currently single losers with barely any life outside of soccer. See you at home."

Rin flipped you off, as Sae just rolled his eyes. You decided to get Boba with Nagi after the your brothers left (probably for the best because you ended up doing the cheesy sharing one cup with two straws in thing). As you both were sitting on a park bench side by side Nagi turned to you.

"Anything else you wanna do today?"

"Hmm, maybe you can give me a proper kiss now."

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herotome · 5 months

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Devlog #125

Hi-ho, Wudge here! Gosh! I missed last week's update.

Happy holidays from Herotome!!

I haven't drawn anything this year-- oh but hmm, I could do a quick edit, here -

Tadah! For anyone who hasn't already seen it, we got those 50 reblogs to make Warden shirtless! A pure version without the christmas lights went up yesterday, just scroll down my blog a bit or check out the #ro: warden hashtag.

I'm pleased with how much mileage I'm already getting from this picture, ha.

Anyway.

Seems like I'm gonna be focused on writing new scenes and drawing expressions for a while. They're some of the more tedious tasks for me, so I'll certainly be looking for every opportunity to do other things on the side - like coding.

Today I've decided that the LI sprites should have their eyebrows on a separate layer from the rest of their face, to offer me the greatest amount of variety in creating new expressions - and I've come up with a naming system for it, too!

I'm looking forward to implementing this. Eyebrow shapes have much, much less variety compared to mouth shapes, so I might even finish drawing every possible eyebrow for every LI sometime soon. I've already gotten a strong start with Warden and Mia's eyebrows.

Speaking of, I did turn in more expressions over on Ko-Fi!

Tadah!! Thank you again to everyone who has donated so far!

I'm realizing that in the set dedicated to Dia, Warden and Mia have the same mouth shape on the upper right side... A fascinating subconscious decision on my part.

Outside of art, I did write... once. Er, it went pretty okay. I'm usually the biggest hater of my first drafts.

I think my goal is gonna be to show off the abilities of all the characters as equally as I can; Warden and Jade have had their time to shine (during the job fair and flying MC home, respectively), and I think MC, Griffin, and Mia are gonna be queued up next.

I'll put the rest under a cut for potential spoilers and further rambling - as always, if you don't see the cut, make sure to check out my blog directly!

I have a good idea of what I wanna do with Griffin (it may or may not involve obliterating your rent debt, and I may or may not have written about that in the first-draft-I-don't-hate).

I've been thinking that this scene would involve a change of clothes btw, and did some fashion concepts for Griffin that I also don't hate;

I'm not super sure what I'm gonna do for Mia's eventual ~special show-off scene~, but I'm sure it will come to me.

For MC, I want to show off her relationship with the city, and showcase how qualified she is for the job in a low-key way. I recently discussed with a friend how Men in Black is a huge source of inspiration for me... Y'all know the scene where Will Smith has his interview and did things differently from all the other candidates?? I kinda wanna capture that vibe...!

And ah... I think that's about it, Herotome-wise.

Wudge-wise, honesty hour - I've had ssssome mild health concerns this year.

I don't want to go into detail; I want to say it's been like... nothing life threatening, thankfully, but a lot of small physical inconveniences that pile up and make it harder to concentrate.

I did rest a lot last week so no worries. <3 It's just that parts of my body have been weird and annoying, and I think it's helpful to acknowledge that the flesh prison can be a weird and annoying place. But I value it! And I'm doing my best to take care of it. Health comes first, etc, etc.

With this new year, I hope you guys take care of yourselves as best as you can, too. The person who's most qualified to take care of you is you!!!

Stay safe and keep warm,

Wudge.

#interactive fiction #oelvn #otome game #visual novel #english otome #indie game #otome #vn dev #vn development #amareteabreak #amare game #digital art #herotome update #ro: warden #ro: griffin

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igncrxntripley · 1 year

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So I have a bunch of storm coming in. I don't know if you are comfortable can I have a female who has a fear of thunder and Rhea Ripley "comforting" female!reader by making reader focusing on Rhea?

headcanons: thunderstorms

a/n: making this into headcanons bc i haven't done any for rhea yet, also i hope this is what you were looking for!!

mentions: SFW, fear of thunderstorms, mentions of thunder/rain/wind, use of rhea's real name, reader’s gender isn’t specific

taglist: @ripleyswhore @babybatlover @thesithdiaries @auburnwrites @neptune-lover @i-have-issues-lol @ares-athena @bunnysmyname

demi wasn't scared of much - she threw herself through tables and hit people for a living, she didn't have time to be scared of something like a thunderstorm; but she knows when her partner is scared of something and she immediately is going to jump into action to make things better.

with the changing seasons and temperamental weather, thunderstorms were getting to be a more common ocurrence and were your actual nightmare. they were so loud and scary, and sometimes it felt like no matter what you did nothing eased the fear of the storms.

your girlfriend, demi, took quick notice of this the first time a storm rolled through during your relationship. she spent the majority of the time calming you down and didn't even think twice about getting you to focus on her instead of what was going on outside.

"baby, look! i made a blanket fort! i have all the snacks and a movie, and our chargers in case the power goes out, and i even grabbed those headphones in case you need them again!'

there's no doubt you and demi are spending the entire storm in that exact fort; she only used the best and thickest blankets in the entire house so it covered up the sound a little better, and the two of you would be huddled under another blanket for an extra sense of security.

i'd be a fool if i didn't specify that the two best guard dogs in the world, barry and luna, are protecting the fort through the storm to make sure both you and demi were safe.

with each crack of thunder, your body jumping and a quiet whimper leaving your lips, demi's arms would tighten around your body and she'd whisper the sweetest things she could manage; "shh, i'm here. we're safe right here in the house, yeah?"

you had to give demi credit, as she was trying her hardest to make sure you were feeling safe and comfortable. but she had no clue how deep this fear of thunder really went, and she knew she needed to start getting more creative.

the next time the thunder rolled, demi could see the tears building up in your eyes. it didn't help that the power was flickering and the wind was picking up outside. but she was determined to make sure you were okay throughout the rest of this storm, and she decided that she needed to go back to basics.

demi would turn you in her arms so you faced her, only able to look into her stunning eyes as she tightened the blanket around your bodies. what she said next took you by surprise, but it most definitely made you focus on anything other than the storm outside.

"you ever have that one thing as a kid you thought you were really good at but in reality you were just a kid and your parents wanted to keep your confidence up and made you think you were good at it?" she'd ask with a smile, taking amusement in the somewhat shocked look on your face.

demi wasn't done there; "in year 7 there was a talent show at school and i was convinced that i needed to showcase my insane hoola-hooping abilities." demi would smirk, her fingers drawing patterns on your back as she held you close.

she'd continue to go on about these silly stories, holding you close the entire time and smiling every time you giggled at her. demi's tactics work so well that you don't even notice the storm wrapping up outside and the only remnants being some light rain and wind.

the terror on your face was replaced by shock when you looked at demi, and she would giggle at you as if she'd accomplished the biggest thing possible. "i told you we'd get through the storm."

needless to say, every thunderstorm after this was not nearly as scary as they used to be - that is, as long as demi was home.

#wwe imagine #wwe x reader #wwe rhea ripley #rhea ripley #rhea ripley headcanons #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley imagine #{:requests:}#{:headcanons:}#{:rhea ripley:}

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stevetonyweekly · 2 months

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SteveTony Weekly - March 10 - Week 10

I’m late, I’m sorry! Spent all of yesterday in a haze of senior pictures for my kid, and I’m still not sure what day it is--ANYWAY! Here is this week’s reads--enjoy and be sure to drop a comment/kudos for your author!

business affairs by meidui

It’s two years of wanting him the way he hasn’t wanted Emma since their honeymoon to the pearl of the Pacific, eighteen months of Steve slipping into his hotel suite on business trips away from the prying eyes of New York, and twelve months of staying late after the cleaning staff clock out because Steve will ride him behind his desk with the door unlocked.

my thoughts: i’m a sucker for infidelity fics, and this one is just--very soft and tony’s love of steve and conflict with Emma, and the way that he focuses on Steve’s emotions over Emma’s was everything to me.

Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club by sara_holmes

Clint Barton's Super Secret Snipers' Club. (Invitation and pending mental health evaluation required.)

"When Steve brings Bucky back to the tower for the first time, Clint’s first thought is that Tony Stark’s pride and joy is quickly becoming a less of a very tall and expensive ‘fuck you’ in the faces of investors who don’t believe in self-sustaining energy, and more of a superhero rehabilitation center."

Boyfriends, compromises and learning to like oneself.

my thoughts: this is more focused on winterhawk than stevetony but what I LOVED about the stevetony background ship is how it looks at Steve as human, and the weight of juggling Bucky’s recovery and his ongoing relationship with Tony. Everyone of them--Steve, Tony, Bucky and Clint--are flawed and this fic doesn’t flinch away from that, but rather examines it in a real real and lovely way. The scene where Steve is sobbing in Tony’s lap is heartbreaking and beautiful.

The Scars of Your Love by blue_jack

On the day Peggy moved out, Steve stood naked in front of the mirror and looked at all the ragged lines running over his body. He felt like someone had taken a knife to him, slicing every inch open, and he didn’t understand how there wasn’t any blood. He traced one particularly thick scar on his stomach, gritting his teeth against the pain, the memory of the first time he’d brought Peggy over to meet his family and all the teasing that had accompanied it burning through his mind. He couldn’t imagine her marks ever disappearing, and in that moment, he didn’t want them to, didn’t want to ever expose himself to that much hurt again. Once in a lifetime was enough.

my thoughts: oh this was so lovely. The idea of heartbreak causing physical scars was gorgeously executed.

Hot Stuff by sayah1112

Steve is an art major who can’t stop drawing his muse. The problem is his muse…is a stranger he met randomly on the street.

my thoughts: this Tony was so adorable and Steve was so besotted--perfection.

Draw Me by sayah1112

“Draw me like one of your French girls, Cap.”

Tony, Steve thought with cheeks burning a brilliant shade of red that was bright and deep enough to match the shimmering paint of Ironman’s armor, was a little shit.

Such a little shit.

Only Tony could turn a lost bet into a punishment for the winning party.

Steve had won, he thought furiously as his hand moved across the parchment paper, the blunt pads of his fingers dusted with charcoal. His fingers sketched out a form that he knew from memory. That devious curl of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips, the way a lock of hair fell across his brow despite his best efforts to keep it tamed. The sharp line of his jaw, strong and willful, the arch of his brow as it lifted in mocking censure. Steve knew every curve and divot of that face from memory. Making this bet a really unnecessary one.

Or that one where Steve edges us all. A quick and dirty one-shot

my thoughts: I’m a sucker for artist Steve. It was delightful.

The Storm by sayah1112

Steve and Tony haven't seen eye to eye in a long time. Once inseparable, the two can no longer stand the sight of each other. But when he gets a call from Natasha telling him that there is something seriously wrong with his ex-lover, Tony rushes out into the wilds of Maine to meet her.

Only...there's a blizzard. And when he finally reaches the cabin, it's not Natasha there waiting for him. But Steve himself.

Crafty Russian.

my thoughts: I super love the drop everything for my ex trope and this is EVERYTHING.

with your own two hands by Thahire

There’s nothing quite like sitting still and letting Tony shave him, careful, precise strokes against his jaw and throat. Nothing quite like carefully washing Tony’s lovely hair while he sits and chatters away about his newest invention.

Steve and Tony take a bath together after a hard day’s work.

my thoughts: 1872 is such a depressing verse for the most part, and this one was very soft and gentle and I loved it.

The One That Got Away by lomku

Steve Rogers wants to go on a coffee date. Maria Hill is out for the enemy’s blood. Tony Stark is arguing with himself about what to do with a certain super-soldier’s advances.

Oh, and the Skrulls are invading. Again.

my thoughts: oh this one. This was a better of a mindfuck and I really loved that because so few of them are. Read it.

Leaves Me Wanting More by lomku

“You’re compromised,” Romanoff tells him one day. Steve doesn’t look up from where he’s swirling the spoon in his coffee cup.

No shit, he thinks. He’s been compromised since he first met Iron Man, all these months ago. He’s been nothing but compromised.

my thoughts: Villain Tony!!! I love villain Tony and Steve being so damn soft for him.

copacetic by starvels (dinosaur)

The man Tony spots across the market square looks just like Sheriff Rogers. When Tony catches up to the man, he moves just like Sheriff Rogers, touches Tony just like Sheriff Rogers, gets spitting mad just like Sheriff Rogers.

The problem is, Sheriff Rogers was murdered 4 months ago.

my thoughts: the 1872 angst I mentioned? Here it is.

wolf like me by starvels (dinosaur)

It's been a busy few days for Steve Rogers: he's been thawed from the Arctic decades after being frozen, battled a villain or two, joined a superhero team called the Avengers, and now been invited to come live at their new base of operations.

There's just one little thing they forgot to mention, and Steve can smell it the second he gets inside the mansion: there's another werewolf who lives inside.

my thoughts: I really love the sense of desperation that starvels conveyed in this and in steve finding someone like himself. It was gorgeous.

Confessions by Neverever

Tony is perfectly okay with his crush on Steve. But then Peter tells him that Steve might be in love with Tony. That can't be right, Tony thinks and needs to find out the true answer.

my thoughts: the oblivious pining is everything. Perfect.

what a way to lose (all of you) by tinystark616

On the night that the Superhuman Registration Act becomes law, Steve shows up in Tony's penthouse.

my thoughts: love this angsty beautiful sad thing.

The Billionaire Hooker's Deceived Artist by tsukinofaerii

During Tony's senior year at MIT, his partying habit finally hit the edge of his parents' patience. When Howard and Maria cut him off from his usual sources of money, he decides to turn to less conventional ones.

my thoughts: This is a reread, but a favorite. Love the identity porn and just how soft both of them are.

#stevetony weekly #steve rogers #tony stark #stevetony #stony #iron man #captain america #stevetony fic #stony fic #fic rec

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ursaspecter · 2 years

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More redesigns! More redesigns! This time it's the whole Fenton family! As always, my notes will be under the cut. I really appreciate everyone's support and feedback about this series. I plan to work on Vlad next. I think I'm the most excited for his since it also has to do with my unnamed au that I shared a while ago, but haven't done anything for yet. Until now that is >:).

Reblogs > Likes! Tools used: XP Pen Artist 15.6 Pro, Clip Studio Paint

A lot like Tucker, these are really just minor changes. They're less so redesigns as they are just drawing the characters in my style.

Jazz I made her hair a little wavier because I personally think it's more interesting than just plain straight hair. I gave her a tunic top with a belt that's very fitting for 2004 in my opinion. Her headband is still there, it's just mostly hidden because of the way I drew the hair at this head-on perspective. I was debating about keeping it, but then I remembered the part in The Ultimate Enemy where she ties the note to the boomerang with her headband, and that it's also an important part to my Dan design. Oh and I gave her freckles, but they're not as prominent as Danny's are.

Maddie Replaced the spandex jumpsuit with more practical coveralls and added more age to her face. I also gave her a more unhinged expression in general. She can be a little more zany. As a treat.

Jack Same story with the jumpsuit. Although he doesn't have as many pockets as Maddie or Danny do on their coveralls. The Watsonian reason is because he probably thinks he doesn't need pockets and just attaches pouches to his belt as needed. The Doylian reason is because I already spent like three hours on Jazz and Maddie's sketches that by the time I sketched Jack, I was more focused on getting the pose right and the anatomy of his arms (which are covered by the sleeves anyway) correct that I simply could not be asked to add the pockets. Also I accidentally made him a DILF so I guess you're welcome for that.

#my art #digital art #fanart #danny phantom #danny phantom redesign #danny fenton #jazz fenton #maddie fenton #jack fenton

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gingergofastboatsmojito · 3 months

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Not there yet

No, I don't think that anything that Carmy -or Syd- does/do has a romantic connotation for them at this point. They are not there yet. All the things and hints we see, like the look on his face when she came back in Braciole and his "original" way of saying he was sorry by offering a partnership, how he tried to make plans with her outside work when they still didn't have the permits and had to leave early, how he always tries to stir the conversation to a more personal tone, how he always tries to make sure she's OK even when he's not (except when Claire interfered for a brief period of time), how he cares about her opinion most of all, even though his own sister is right there and is his business partner too, all he said under the table and how he said it, he talking about "their" chaos menu and putting so much work into those drawings when he should have been with Claire, IDK, making out or catching up, etc. Finding comfort in thinking about her during a nasty panic attack, forgetting to solve the walk-in handle issue but not forgetting to order a custom-made designer jacket for her, never giving her her notebook back and holding on to it as if it was something precious he will forever cherish, all of that, happens at a subconscious, even unconscious level. We, the viewers get to see the big picture and interpret the deeper meaning of it all, and not even all the viewers do that, as some would just prefer -or only be capable of- seeing the superficial aspects of these symbolisms, not going any further or deeper than that. But Carmen certainly doesn't see all of that or even understand it at this point in time. He's not there yet. Whilst I do think that after the panic attack, he is starting to see the tip of the iceberg, he's definitely not ready yet to really grasp the entirety of what's going on, of where exactly he's standing -on the verge of what exactly he's standing- because he is still too focused on his own trauma and his mourning, etc. Syd doesn't help either, TBH. And neither did Claire with her insistence, to which Carmy eventually caved. So, no, we are not there yet. I won't even get started on Syd, because her case is even way more complex than Carmy's. There's no trauma or mourning or environmental causes in her case. It's all her, her very nature. Her arc is a lot more "sophisticated" and therefore will take a lot longer to progress I think, except that a deep crisis breaks her down completely, and I hope it doesn't come to that. I guess Carmy will need to step up eventually, but like I said, he's not there yet and neither is Syd. So basically I need S3 more than I need oxygen right now to figure these characters out, but so far they haven't figured themselves or each other out either yet. That's my point.

#sydcarmy #GINGERPOVS

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wh0re4women · 1 year

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Not a Good Girl. Part 1. Part 2 here. (Larissa Weems x Reader.) NSFW.

Summary: Reader sends explicit pictures and messages to Larissa while she’s at a meeting. Larissa comes home and punishes the Reader.

warnings: spanking, dom larissa, sub reader, teasing, etc etc etc

You could’ve lied and said that you had no clue how you had managed to get yourself in this situation — bent over Larissa's wooden desk with your naked body on display, but you knew that wouldn't do you any favours.

As Larissa roughly held a fistfull of your silky hair in one hand, using the other to draw patterns along the bare skin of your ass, you knew, in that moment, that your lie wouldn't fool a single soul in the building. And yet, even if you did attempt to spew up a story to defend your racy behaviour, it wouldn't change the fact that Larissa's phone was filled with evidence against you, containing multiple suggestive, vulgar text messages and pictures of you that she'd kill to protect from anyone else's vision.

You hadn't expected for Larissa to react the way she did — ignoring all of your previous messages before simply telling you to unclothe, kneel and await her return from whatever meeting she was at.

Pure excitement swirled deep in your stomach, up until the point your eyes landed on Larissa's frustration-woven features as she stepped into her office just over an hour later. Then, and only then, did that excitement die down, allowing room for nervousness to set in.

Larissa looked furious. Turned on, but steaming with fury. You had stood up and approached her warily, hoping that you could explain yourself a little before she managed to have her own way with you. That plan ceased to exist the moment you opened your mouth as the tall blonde was quick to silence you, gripping your wrist in a swift motion before twisting your arm behind your back and carefully, yet firmly pressing the front of your body down against her smooth desk.

"I'm sorry!" You shouted abruptly, knowing deep down that no apology was going to save you now, but surely it was worth a shot. Maybe, just maybe, Larissa would soften due to your desperate pleas.

Having never seen your lover so pent up, you couldn't decide whether you were more scared or turned on from the sight.

That's when Larissa grabbed your hair in one swift motion, twisted her fingers in it and pulled back sharply enough to make you groan — a groan that morphed into a whine as your lower stomach heated up with a familiar burn.

"Sorry?" Larissa chuckled sarcastically, leaning down to press her ruby lips up to your flushed ear, "Sorry isn't going to cut it, darling."

The tall blonde's sentence was punctuated with a stinging slap to your ass before she let your hair fall from her grip as you gasped from the impact of her palm.

You felt the warmth surrounding you suddenly dissolve. Sharp heeled footsteps made their way around the room, yet you didn't dare look up, knowing well you were already in enough trouble and Larissa was not to be tested further.

It was almost humorous how drastically your behaviour had changed the second she stepped into the room with you and you got to see the dark in her eyes. So clever over text; not so brave anymore.

Larissa's face lit up in amusement as she watched you bring your arms behind your back and fold them like an obedient little girl. Well, too late for that.

The tall blonde dipped her slender fingers into the leather handbag she had abandoned by her office door, retrieving her phone a second later.

"I want to call you my good girl, [y/n]," Larissa's voice melted like butter as she spoke; smooth, slow and gentle. "But you haven't been a good girl, have you, darling?"

And just like that, the softness in her voice was gone.

You whimpered as your core throbbed, legs trembling already from the strain of holding your position; feet apart, tiptoes touching the ground, chest flush against the mahogany.

Focusing on anything other than the ache between your thighs was almost impossible. So much so, that you hadn't heard Larissa's heels echo through the room and back towards you. In fact, you hadn't even realised she was anywhere near. Not until she harshly placed her phone, which was now lit up with all of the filthy messages you had sent her, right in front of you.

"I can explain," you started, sighing softly.

"Oh, please do... Indulge me, [y/n]," Larissa snapped back, arms crossing over her chest in disapproval.

Was she delighted to have received those stunning photos? Sure. Did it turn her on to hear all of the filthy things you wanted her to do to you? Of course. Was it appropriate for you to do both of those things during a very important meeting? Absolutely not.

"I - I missed you."

Larissa scoffed, "You missed me?" Two clicks of heels and Larissa was right behind you again, towering over your naked frame as she pressed her left arm next to you on the desk for support. Her right palm slid with ease down between your soaked thighs as she continued, "Or did your pussy miss me?"

Your mind spun with arousal as you felt her long digits slide through your wetness, gathering as much of it as possible on her middle finger before she circled that same finger around your sensitive clit. It was all you could feel or think about in that moment.

Craving her touch for hours had made you almost lose your sanity, your knees wobbling as moans started flowing freely out of your mouth.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Larissa shook her head, a playful smirk playing on her lips at the mess she had rendered you to. "Ignoring me is only going to make things worse for you, darling."

The blue eyed woman snatched her hand away before bringing it back down, this time with more force, on the same ass cheek she had hit previously, pulling a distraught whine out of you as your chest rose and fell with harsh breaths.

"I-I'm sorry!"

"Not good enough." Another slap.

"Please," you were panting at this point.

"Please what, [y/n]? You're making this difficult for yourself. Use your words, darling," Larissa was feeling quite cocky with herself. Making you a dripping, incoherent mess was just one of the biggest delights in her life.

The blonde steadily began tracing her fingertips up your soaked thighs, biting her lipstick tainted bottom lip as to muffle the moan that slipped its way through at the feeling of your wetness.

Her skilled fingers drove through your slick folds at an agonising pace, up and back down, before leaving you craving more as she smoothed over the pink rosy mark on your butt cheek and crawled up along your spine.

A strangled moan forced its way out of your throat once she reached your hair, repeating the motion from before and pulling it back. This time, guiding your focus towards her phone, filling your vision with enough to make you blush.

"I'm only going to ask this once, darling, so pay attention," Larissa spoke dangerously low as her free hand snaked around the front of your thighs and right in between, making quick work of finding your hard clit as she drew fast circles, "Do you think what you did today was in any way appropriate? Do you think I deserved that? Do you understand just how difficult you made my meeting, darling? How frustrated you made me?"

With your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your hips bucking in Larissa's warm palm, you somehow managed to find the power to answer the Principals questions.

"N-No! I m-mean, I'm sorry!"

Larissa eased up on her movements, letting your soft hair cascade back down as she straightened up enough to lean over the desk again. Enough to keep a torturous pace on your now-swollen clit.

You were already close. So, so close. But you knew the blonde wouldn't give in so easily. Tears formed in your eyes as you tried to find redemption, "I'm sorry for my behaviour, Principal W-Weems. I didn't think about how my actions would, um, oh—"

A moan cut your sentence short as you felt Larissa's long digits slide inside of you.

"Do continue, [y/n]." There was a sickly tone in the tall woman's voice; one that had your body flush, both, in anger and arousal.

"Um, I just wanted to say," you tried again as your eyes fluttered shut, hips beginning to ride back and forth at an even pace, "I'm really sorry. It—It won't happen again."

"No," Larissa confirmed, now curling her fingers the way she knew would make your mouth fall open as she relished in the sounds that she could pull out of you. She was hot, bothered, frustrated and pent up. And somehow, you were the one getting exactly what you had wanted all along, "It certainly won't be happening again."

Cries pulled from your lungs as Larissa's fingers left your heat, making your pussy clench from the loss of warmth.

"In fact, I believe your behaviour will be absolutely stellar after I'm done with you," the tall blonde smiled as she spoke calmly over the noise of your cries, whines and pleas.

The silky material of her dress tore away from your skin, and within seconds you were up and following her warmth, grasping onto the fabric wrapped around her forearms as you looked up at her with doe eyes, "I'm going to be a good girl, I promise! Please."

"Yes, my darling. You will be," Larissa nodded in confirmation, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, a smirk pulling at the corners of her lips, "That's if you want to cum at all today."

You opened your mouth to speak, to ask what she meant, to stupidly beg some more, but before you could, Larissa began undressing nonchalantly.

Tongue running over your lips, you took in the sight with appreciation, delighted that she was still willing to give you what you so badly craved.

You dropped to your knees, palms resting on the soft skin of your thighs as you desperately wanted to taste her. Larissa softly smiled, mumbling a "Good girl," as she rid herself of the rest of her clothing and undergarments.

Surprisingly, the principal had left her heels on, your eyes following the clicking of them as she rounded her desk, her bottom half now out of sight.

Furrowing your eyebrows as she sat down on her office chair with a relaxed sigh, you attempted to rise again, wanting to see more of her.

"Ah, ah," Larissa lifted a finger in warning, "You'll be staying right there."

And without another word, the blonde's eyes fell shut, just as her nimble fingers darted down out of your eyesight, and no amount of shifting or raising onto your knees made the view any more pleasant for you. Larissa was almost completely out of sight, her stupid desk being entirely in the way.

And as you mentally cussed yourself out for kneeling right there of all places, all you could hear were the sweet, relieved gasps and sighs falling from the blondes lips. Then, in that exact moment, you swore to yourself that you would never, absolutely EVER, tease the woman again.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #larissa x reader #principal weems x reader #wednesday fic #principal weems x you #mine

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