#fic type: drabble

[rapplesart]

Random fic idea

Tim drake but instead of loosing his spleen he lost part of his leg.

Tim thought it was obvious he was missing his right leg from the knee down. It was a whole leg that was missing after all. Sure he was wearing a prosthetic made by Ra's' best people.

One he painfully earned after that crazy fucker made him fight a bunch of his assassins one legged in order to "proof himself as the true heir of the bat he saw in him" or something. So sure, the leg might be more advanced than most, and it imitated natural steps a lot easier and even made it possible to easily run without switching to a different leg. Truly it was a perfect leg be vigilante with. But he never even bothered to give it human like appearances.

But apparently the Fam didn't notice. When he returned with Bruce everyone was too reliefed to give Tim a closer look and it just never came up afterwards.

Tim thought they just didn't want to ask about it in a weird attempt of being polite or even caring. Bruce surely did enough research on how it happened on his own. The man spend the whole travel back to Gotham with Tim after all. Tim truly believed the world's greatest detective would have noticed his missing leg.

Except he didn't. Not if he interpreted the way they looked so incredibly disturbed by is nonchalant way of handlinh the boiling hot chemicals that landed on his metal leg. He just brushed it off, the battle continued and since nothing seemed to be injured no one pressed him when he said "Must've missed me after all"

Now, how do you deal with a family that didn't notice you're missing a leg? That's right you fuck with them.

First thing he did was buy himself a few more realistic looking prosthetic leg. It had to be custom made to fit his stump so it took a whole but it was a worthwhile investment.

The first one was Jason. Call it a twisted revenge for trying to kill him but Tim just really wanted him to be messed with the most. So one day when he knew it was only Jason and him on patrol he strategically set himself down to fall. Crunching some spaghettis to ass in a sickening way only to stand up and walk away as if nothing ever happened.... With his foot toned the wrong way around. Insisting on nothing being wrong and Jason being delusional whenever the older boy tried to get him to get medical treatment. He switched it up the whole evening, whenever he was out of sight he turned the fool right and wrong. Driving the guy insane.

Jason did not sleep well that night. He was also top weirded out and unsure if what he saw was real to talk about it with anyone else.

Then, he challenged dick to a flexibility contest seeing how far they han bend their knees and feet. Even Mr bones are a social construct gymnast Richard Grayson looked horrified as Tim stood there, food bend almost in half, knee twisted to the impossible and what looked lihe a bend in the middle of his leg. Dick claimed cheating except the thing that greeted him when he demanded Tim to puch up his pant leg to expose his trick was a normal looking leg. The first Robin did lots of stretches in the following weeks. His pride was hurt after all.

Finding a way to mess with Damian was a bit more difficult. The brat still made a bunch of harsh comments again and again and he really wasn't close enough with Tim to be easily gaslit. The kid was a trained assassin and was probably used to a bunch of weird shit considering everything Ra's. So Tim decided he could go a bit more gory on Robin than the others. So one night he sat in front of Damians room, in the dark hallway and waited till one of his pets passed him. Once Alfred the Cat came along he made some louder coping noise that would Definetly make the kid look out to check on his animals. It worked just as planned, Damian peeked out his door to see Tim, crosslegged and barefoot on the floor, seemingly cutting off his toe to feed the cat. In reality it was nothing more than a cat treat and carefully picked, animal safe food coloring.

The kid scremed at him, threatened to stab him, punched him real good for harming his cat and took off with said cat to find Alfred so the older man could check on the poor kitten. Of course not beforeaking sure Tim was in an adequate amount of pain on the floor, with his 'injured' food secured to the floor with another knife. Only to return with a worried Alfred on tow to see Tim, standing two whole bare feet with a confused expression and a bag of cat treats in the hall.

Tim got a broken nose for it but it surely was worth it. Especially once he quietly whispered a 'no one will ever belief you' to the kid in passing. He might have traumatised the boy a little but Tim fought it justified for all the attempted murder he suffered.

[sparkypantaloons]

Really, Bruce should have realised something was amiss when he woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in decades. When his back didn’t ache with the years of abuse, and his eyes didn’t fuzz with the barely two hours of sleep, and even Jason hissing about what an asshole he was didn’t sting quite as much as it usually did.

As it was, he didn’t actually notice anything at all until he started shaving and the head snapped off of his razor.

“What the—” He stared stupidly at the plastic handle.

“Bruce!” A strangely familiar voice shrilled, much higher than perhaps he’d ever heard it. “Bruce, where are you?”

It was only then that Bruce actually looked in the mirror and realised that wasn’t his own face staring back at him at all.

“Oh no,” came Clark’s midwestern twang out of what was most definitely not Bruce’s mouth. “Oh no, no, no.”

[nyoomerr]

(cw for omegaverse and Gender Stuff. sfw/mature at worst)

---

It’s been many, many years since Luo Binghe spent his rut outside of a nest. He may not have ever had a proper mate, but ever since his rise in power he’s had no shortage of rut partners, and the intensity of his ruts often throw his partners into heat. An omega facing discomfort will instinctively create a nest, and an omega in heat will not be too picky about who it is that comes inside that nest.

So: Luo Binghe is used to spending his ruts in an omega’s nest, even if the nest is different each time. 

He hadn’t realized how used to it he’d become until he was staring down the full force of his rut and realizing that no nest had been created for him; that no nest would be created for him.

Shen Yuan is not an omega, after all. 

Surely, though - surely he would be one, if he’d been born a part of Luo Binghe’s world rather than snatched out of that terrible scentless one? Luo Binghe has never been able to get it up for anyone not actively expelling an omega’s ‘come hither’ scent, but all Shen Yuan has to do is smile at him, or scold him, or pitch his voice up into that spoiled whining tone - 

Surely, Luo Binghe would not feel such fierce attraction to Shen Yuan if the man was meant to be a beta. If Shen Yuan had been born in Luo Binghe’s world, he’d no doubt have all the instincts of an omega, and so he’d surely have been pushed into pre-heat by Luo Binghe’s oncoming rut, and so he’d have built a nest.

Put like that, Luo Binghe has an obligation to help Shen Yuan out. Shen Yuan should be building a nest right now, but he doesn’t know that he should be, or even how to build one, and it’s Luo Binghe’s job as his mate to instruct him. Luo Binghe will show Shen Yuan how to do it just this once - he has watched many omegas build their nests over his lifetime, so he knows how it’s meant to be done - and then the next time Luo Binghe enters his rut cycle, Shen Yuan will know how to do it himself.

“Shen Yuan,” Luo Binghe calls, and then when Shen Yuan raises an expectant eyebrow, very quickly corrects himself: “Yuan-ge.”

“Is your rut in full swing, now?” Shen Yuan asks, and Luo Binghe swallows thickly as he catches the way Shen Yuan casts a nervous glance below Luo Binghe’s belt. 

Shen Yuan hasn’t been… hesitant, really, but he has been clearly nervous to spend Luo Binghe’s rut with him. Luo Binghe isn’t willing to look too closely at the feelings that inspires in him: both Shen Yuan’s nervousness, and the fact that Shen Yuan is still here in Luo Binghe’s rooms despite it.

“Not yet - I’ll still be fully conscious until tomorrow morning, most likely.” Luo Binghe answers, almost absentmindedly. He has to teach Shen Yuan how to build a nest, but now his mind is stuck here, on Shen Yuan’s nerves and how to soothe them. He has to soothe them, he has to make sure his mate is safe and happy, he has to remove the threat -

Luo Binghe forcefully shakes the thought away. His instincts have been prickling at him nonstop like this for the past several days; a side effect of knowing that his upcoming rut will be spent with a proper mate rather than a simple bed partner. 

Shen Yuan has already expressed his dissatisfaction about Luo Binghe’s foolish instinct-driven behaviors this morning when Luo Binghe had dragged him out of bed and into the kitchens so he could keep Shen Yuan in sight while still providing his mate with a good meal. If Luo Binghe’s instincts make him do something unnecessary that causes Shen Yuan to complain again, then Luo Binghe really won’t be able to take it. The panic that had flared through him at potentially offending Shen Yuan so close to a time when Luo Binghe needed him had been… distinctly unpleasant.

So: a nest. Shen Yuan’s nest, which will be built by Luo Binghe just this once, and which will both settle some of Luo Binghe’s uncertainty by giving him a point of familiarity and, hopefully, soothe some of Shen Yuan’s nerves. After all, even if Shen Yuan doesn’t possess omegan instincts, who isn’t soothed by a nice nest?

Luo Binghe clears his throat. “Before my rut begins, I wanted to show Yuan-ge how to build a nest.”

Shen Yuan raises his sleeves up to obscure half his expression, a habit he’d picked up after Luo Binghe had confiscated all the fans he’d been using to hide his face previously.

(Luo Binghe had not confiscated them because Shen Yuan had hidden behind them. Luo Binghe in fact finds Shen Yuan particularly easy to read when he’s trying to hide something, and especially cute when he thinks he’s getting away with it. 

Luo Binghe had taken all those dreadful fans away because Shen Yuan would not stop fanning himself with them, which - while indeed is the point of such an object - had been the cause of one of the bloodiest court sessions in the history of Luo Binghe’s reign, when Luo Binghe had caught the way some of his petitioners had been so clearly trying to get a whiff of the scent that Shen Yuan was blowing about with his fan.

It made no difference that Shen Yuan did not actually have a scent to blow around, outside of the smell of human sweat and the soft milky tones of the soaps Luo Binghe commissions for him. The insult of looking for Shen Yuan’s scent had been enough.

No more fans.)

“A nest as in… like, what an omega builds?” Shen Yuan asks cautiously. Luo Binghe nods, and Shen Yuan raises his sleeves higher. “And Binghe remembers that I’m not an omega, correct?”

Luo Binghe waves a hand dismissively. He does know this, even if he also believes that Shen Yuan should be an omega nonetheless.

“A nest helps to soothe nerves,” Luo Binghe says in place of his thoughts on what his attraction to Shen Yuan must surely indicate about Shen Yuan’s secondary gender. 

Shen Yuan watches him for a long moment, considering. “...Is Binghe nervous?” He eventually asks, and Luo Binghe is startled by the force of his defensiveness at being asked such a thing.

“No,” Luo Binghe says, voice carefully measured. He counts the spaces between his breaths - in for four, out for eight - and reminds himself that he isn’t nervous. He already knows Shen Yuan enjoys laying with him outside of ruts. Shen Yuan’s own nerves will be soothed by the nest, and then Shen Yuan will enjoy spending Luo Binghe’s rut with him, and Luo Binghe will be able to please his mate quite thoroughly.

“Hm,” Shen Yuan says. “Alright. What do you - er, what do I - need for a nest?”

Luo Binghe feels tension slip from his shoulders. Good, good; Shen Yuan will build a nest. 

“Yuan-ge should go grab his dirty robes, and one of mine if you want,” he instructs. “It will be most comforting if it’s mostly made up of your own scent, with only some of your mate’s, and it’s already going to have a lot of mine from the bed sheets themselves.”

It’s impossible to sleep on a bed without scenting it to some degree; the bed Luo Binghe shares with Shen Yuan will always smell more like Luo Binghe than anything else since Shen Yuan doesn’t have the scent glands to rub off on it to begin with.

“Alright,” Shen Yuan says, even though his nose wrinkles when Luo Binghe mentions the dirty laundry. “And while I do that, Binghe should start on the base of the nest, okay?”

Luo Binghe frowns. That doesn’t sound right. Shen Yuan is supposed to be the one learning how to make a nest, because it’s an omega thing to make a nest. If Shen Yuan isn’t present while Luo Binghe works on it, how can Shen Yuan learn?

Shen Yuan hums, reaching up to rest the palm of his hand on the nape of Luo Binghe’s neck. Instinctively, Luo Binghe shifts so that Shen Yuan’s wrist rests properly on the scent gland there; even without Shen Yuan having a proper scent of his own, it’s a pleasant sensation. 

“Good,” Shen Yuan praises him, voice soft. “Now I’ll go paw through our dirty laundry, and you’ll go work on the sheets.”

“Yes,” Luo Binghe agrees, and turns to go and do just that. 

Luo Binghe starting the nest by himself turns out to be a good thing, in the end - he’s never built one before, only ever watching his rut partners do it, so it takes some trial and error to figure out how to create the shapes he wants with the sheets. Shen Yuan wouldn’t learn anything watching Luo Binghe place and replace the sheets and pillows like this, struggling to figure out how to get things to lay just right. 

Luo Binghe has to teach Shen Yuan the right way to build a nest, after all. He knows that what makes for a good nest can be subjective to each omega, but Luo Binghe has always had his own opinions about the nests that his rut partners have made. Surely, as an alpha, the opinions that Luo Binghe has had are the result of finding an objective common denominator from all the various nests he’s slept in. And if Luo Binghe can recreate what feels good for an alpha, then that would give Shen Yuan a good base to customize the nest to his own liking without much trial and error of his own.

By the time Shen Yuan joins him at their bedside, Luo Binghe is quite pleased with himself. It isn’t a good nest yet - it needs their robes for that - but it’s -

“Very good, Binghe,” Shen Yuan praises. Luo Binghe all but preens; it’s a good nest, so it’s sure to ease Shen Yuan’s nerves once it’s done. “Now show me what you’re meant to do with the dirty robes, hm?”

Luo Binghe takes the robes from Shen Yuan - there’s more of Luo Binghe’s clothes than Shen Yuan’s, but Luo Binghe supposes that perhaps the scent distribution doesn’t matter too much for Shen Yuan’s beta nose - and begins working them into the nest.

“This is for - an air current,” Luo Binghe explains haltingly. He’s never had to put into words why certain things make a nest good, but he’s sure that he’s right about some things being an objective common denominator, and that means there’s an explanation for why. “We get air from the window on that side of the room, so the air needs to be directed through the nest like this.”

“To give us fresh air?”

“No,” Luo Binghe snarls, his claws tearing into the robe he’s holding as he goes tense. Then he realizes what he’s done and forces himself to drop the robe, counting his breaths again - in for four, out for eight, in for -

“Ah, Binghe… the rut is coming in sooner than you expected, isn’t it?” Shen Yuan murmurs, bending down to pick up the robe. Luo Binghe watches him warily; of course Shen Yuan can pick up the robe, because this is Shen Yuan’s nest.

He still feels relieved when Shen Yuan hands the robe back to him. He hasn’t finished teaching Shen Yuan how to make a nest yet, after all. 

“No fresh air,” Luo Binghe says, firmly but without the growl this time. 

He chooses to ignore Shen Yuan’s comment about the timing of his rut. It doesn’t actually feel like his rut is settling in upon him, but he feels so - untethered, and yet pulled taught at the same time - and he isn’t sure what else it would be. 

“Alright,” Shen Yuan agrees. “Air flow for what, then?”

“For -” Luo Binghe gestures with one hand jerkily, eyes firmly on where he’s still working the robe into their nest with the other. 

…Into Shen Yuan’s nest, he means.

“- for air flow in the opposite direction,” Luo Binghe eventually gets out. “The window will carry in foreign scents, no matter how tightly it’s closed. This is to keep that out.”

That much Luo Binghe does know for certain as an alpha; it isn’t uncommon for young alphas to start brawls with their neighbors just because their scent wafts in under a door frame. 

“Very smart,” Shen Yuan says, handing Luo Binghe another robe. 

Luo Binghe takes it, but the thought of adding it to the nest makes his teeth itch, and after a moment he hands it back. He doesn’t know if the nest is done, yet - he doesn't have the omega instincts to know - but he needs to come up with a reason to explain why and when the nest is done, because this is the nest that Shen Yuan is learning from.

Shen Yuan catches his arm, and Luo Binghe only barely doesn’t startle.

“Perhaps Binghe would know if his nest is done if he gets inside it?” Shen Yuan asks gently. 

Luo Binghe nods. Yes, yes - maybe his rut really is settling in early, if he can’t even think clearly enough to come up with the idea of getting inside the nest to check it on his own. 

He gets into the nest. He can’t - his memories of nests are usually when lying down, or when hovered over his rut partner, so he can’t compare this nest to the ones in his memories while sitting upright. 

He lays down. The nest is - 

“It’s done,” Luo Binghe says thickly. “It’s - I know Yuan-ge doesn’t like to hear about my past partners, but they’ve helped Yuan-ge today.”

The nest is better than any nest Luo Binghe has ever been in. He must have been right that observing so many omega’s nests would let Luo Binghe objectively build the best one, even as an alpha. 

“Can I come in?” Shen Yuan asks, peering down at Luo Binghe from the edge of the bed. He’s raised his hands to partially hide his face with his sleeves again, and for once Luo Binghe really has no idea what kind of face Shen Yuan is making. 

“Of course,” Luo Binghe says. “Didn’t this lord make the nest for you, so that you could learn how to for the future?”

“Mn,” Shen Yuan says, which is neither an agreement or a disagreement, but he does carefully join Luo Binghe in the nest. “Binghe was right; a nest does help with nerves, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Luo Binghe says, feeling relieved. The prickling in the back of his mind - the instinctual urge to figure out how to help his mate feel better about joining Luo Binghe through his rut - fades. 

Shen Yuan shifts, turning to face Luo Binghe in the nest. He watches Luo Binghe for a long moment, and Luo Binghe watches him back, his heart beating rabbit fast in his chest. Is something wrong with the nest? It’s - it’s perfect, but Luo Binghe isn’t an omega, so maybe Shen Yuan noticed something that Luo Binghe didn’t, or -

Shen Yuan brings his hand up to rest on the nape of Luo Binghe’s neck, a mirror of the way he’d soothed Luo Binghe earlier. He still isn’t resting his wrist in quite the right spot, but Luo Binghe can’t bring himself to be upset about it. The fact that Shen Yuan tries, despite lacking all the instincts that Luo Binghe himself has, is enough to soothe Luo Binghe in place of any calming omega scent.

Still, Luo Binghe begins to move so that Shen Yuan’s wrist is resting in the right spot. Before he can, though, Shen Yuan - still watching Luo Binghe so very, very carefully - shifts his grip on Luo Binghe’s neck and squeezes.

Luo Binghe goes still. That isn’t - it isn’t the way an omega would scent an alpha. It isn’t quite anything, really, since Shen Yuan is a beta without the instincts to guide this type of action or the scent to back it up, but -

But it’s very, very close to the way an alpha might scruff an omega to calm them down. 

Luo Binghe’s breath hitches. His hands curl into tight fists around the front of Shen Yuan’s robes - robes that Luo Binghe had commissioned personally, because he’s an alpha, and because it’s an alpha’s job to provide for their mate in those sorts of ways. 

He gets an immense amount of satisfaction from doing so, too, just the same way he feels nearly gorged on pride and pleasure from caring for Shen Yuan in all sorts of other alpha ways. Feeding him, protecting him, showing off his martial skill - Luo Binghe loves being a good alpha for Shen Yuan. 

He finds himself nearly distraught at how much he loves being scruffed like an omega, too. 

“Ah, Binghe…” Shen Yuan tuts, even as he squeezes his hand tight on the nape of Luo Binghe’s neck, grounding him. “What are those wet eyes for? Did your Yuan-gege not already tell you? I’m not from this world, so what the hell do I know about any of this secondary gender stuff?”

Luo Binghe looks at Shen Yuan helplessly. He knows for a fact that Shen Yuan understands scruffing to be a thing done exclusively to omegas; Shen Yuan had asked about it after catching the way that Luo Binghe had been watching a couple showing off their fresh bonds at a tea house they’d visited. 

Luo Binghe had only watched because he’d wished it to be the sort of thing he could do to Shen Yuan. He - he’d only -

Shen Yuan squeezes again. Luo Binghe goes limp. There’s a tightness in his throat, similar to the feeling right before Luo Binghe growls but far more gentle. 

“I don’t know jack shit about this secondary gender stuff,” Shen Yuan says again, “so I’m just doing whatever I feel like, okay? As - uh, as in, I’m just doing stuff from my world.”

“...Mn,” Luo Binghe says weakly. 

“It doesn’t have anything to do with Binghe being an alpha or anything else,” Shen Yuan reiterates. “So Binghe doesn’t have to think about it in those terms.”

“...Mn,” Luo Binghe says again, even more quietly. 

“...But if you want to think about it that way,” Shen Yuan says cautiously, “then because I’m not from this world, I wouldn’t know any better.”

Luo Binghe takes a deep, shuddering breath. He knew, distantly, that his rut was going to be… difficult, this time around. He knew that his instincts would be working overtime at the thought of having a real mate, and he knew it would be hard to reconcile his own intensity with the fact that Shen Yuan is barely even a beta by this world’s standards. 

He also knew that the shape of his relationship with Shen Yuan would make this rut especially difficult, not just the existence of it. Shen Yuan, his Yuan-ge, his would-have-been-Shizun in another lifetime…

No, even without the titles, Shen Yuan has power over Luo Binghe in a way that no one else ever has. It had been a difficult thing to come to terms with to begin with - and Luo Binghe still feels shame at the way he’d bitten and snapped at Shen Yuan in a panicked attempt to feel like he was still in charge of the relationship after realizing that Shen Yuan had managed to leash him so thoroughly - and that had been when Luo Binghe was in a normal state of mind. Of course that internal struggle would rear its ugly head again when Luo Binghe entered his rut, when his alpha instincts became so much more intense.

He hadn’t expected it to take this exact shape, though. He hadn’t expected to be the one to start it, by building a nest that neither he nor Shen Yuan should ever need. 

Shen Yuan is still watching him, he knows. The grip on the back of Luo Binghe’s neck has loosened, giving Luo Binghe room to think. 

He wants very much for the pressure to return and make it so he doesn’t have to think about anything anymore.

“Since Yuan-ge isn’t from this world,” Luo Binghe says slowly, “I should… inform you about what is expected from my rut.”

“You should,” Shen Yuan agrees with no small amount of grace, considering that he’d already spent the last two weeks anxiously pestering Luo Binghe to get all sorts of details about how alphas behave during rut. 

“During my rut, I won’t be in a clear state of mind,” Luo Binghe continues. “It’s important that an alpha not hurt their mate even in that state, so -”

Luo Binghe breaks off. His jaw clicks as he figures out how to say the next part; if he can say the next part. He is an alpha, even if the dynamics of his relationship with Shen Yuan don’t match those of any other relationship he’s held. 

Shen Yuan moves his thumb to gently slide up and down the column of Luo Binghe’s neck, drawing Luo Binghe’s attention back to the way Shen Yuan is still lightly scruffing him. Luo Binghe breathes out carefully through his nose.

“To not hurt their mate, an alpha might be better off on the receiving end,” Luo Binghe manages to get out. “Even if - even if I cry about wanting to knot you, Yuan-ge can just squeeze with his hands.”

It’s a lie. Shen Yuan knows it’s a lie. No alpha ever would allow their partner to be the one on top during their rut. 

“Good boy, Binghe,” Shen Yuan croons, squeezing Luo Binghe’s neck again. “You’re a very good alpha, thinking about how to keep me safe.”

Luo Binghe’s throat feels tight again. He realizes, so distantly it might have been the thought of another person, that he is trying to purr like an omega despite not physically being able to do so. 

“Is there anything else you should tell your Yuan-ge about your rut?” Shen Yuan asks, and Luo Binghe shakes his head wordlessly.

There’s more that he wants to say, but he doesn’t have the words for it. He might never have the words for it. Already, this feels like too much. 

“Alright,” Shen Yuan says. “That’s okay. You can tell me more next time, okay?”

Luo Binghe nods weakly, clutching tightly to the front of Shen Yuan’s robes. Next time, next time - 

Yes, Shen Yuan is Luo Binghe’s mate, no matter the world he came from or the way it prevents Shen Yuan from actually bearing a proper mating bite. There will be more ruts they spend together in the future. 

“Next time,” Luo Binghe agrees, and leans into Shen Yuan’s touch.

[villainbait]

Surprise Encounters

Pairing: None (Sylus x reader distantly implied) Rating: G Tags: coffee shop, secondhand embarrassment, canon sylus behavior, playful stalking, flirting, jealousy, crack, fluff Summary: Sylus stalks you to a new coffee shop in Linkon City, but it seems you two weren't the only ones who wanted to try it. Word Count: 1.1k

Someone was following you. 

It had been a long day at work and now there was the definitive sound of someone’s steps dogging yours as you approached the cafe. It wasn’t the one you usually enjoyed visiting, but you were in a hurry and going to duck in for a quick pick-me-up before heading out on yet another mission. Wanderer activity had been increasing lately, which left you exhausted most days so you were counting on this coffee to work miracles for your fatigue.  

Picking up the pace, you do your best to weave through the crowd and lose the person, happy to find you no longer hear the footsteps by the time you reach your destination. Your phone suddenly rings and you look down to find it’s Sylus. You don’t even bother answering it and reject the call. A text message accompanies the rejected call and you sigh in exasperation but before you can open it, you hear the dulcet tones of the current source of your annoyance behind you. 

“It’s not very nice to ignore a friend, kitten.” His voice is far too close to your ear and you pull away with a frown. Before you can retort, you see him glance at the cafe with a curious expression. 

“This isn’t your usual cafe, either.” 

“I’ve been busy,” you huff and look around nervously, before tugging on his sleeve and pulling him quickly into the cafe. The only reason you didn’t make a scene in public, you told yourself, was because you were worried your connection to the N109 Zone would be severed if Sylus was caught. Just because you wanted to punch him in his smug face sometimes didn’t mean you wanted to see him get hurt or worse. It still baffled you that the most wanted man in the world could simply chat with you on the street like this and not a single person knew. 

“What’s the hurry, sweetie?” he playfully murmurs as you march both of you up to the counter, but he’s more than happy to oblige as you both order. The baristas are charmed by Sylus but you don’t seem to notice, too busy bantering with him. 

“The hurry is that you seem nonchalant for a man in your situation.” 

“And what situation is that?” he replied smoothly, taking his card back from the blushing barista with a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know,” you gesture vaguely as the two of you move to the end of the counter. You’re not sure if you want to lean away when Sylus puts his face close to yours but your pride won’t let you even if you did so you meet his gaze head on. “Oh? I don’t know that I do, so why don’t you say it?” He remarked, knowing that you wouldn’t give him away. At least not today, in this sunny little cafe where his defenses are low and there’s too many civilians. 

The little bell above the shop door jingles but you don’t notice it at first, your attention still focused on Sylus who hadn’t moved away despite his teasing. Still, with how he had leaned down you could see over his shoulder and you stopped breathing as a familiar face appears in your line of view. 

What was Zayne doing here? 

Sylus realizes mid-sentence you’re no longer paying him any attention and starts to look around and see what you’re gawking at. 

“No! Don’t turn around,” you hiss and jerk him closer to you, using his bigger body as a shield. He doesn’t mind that but his curiosity burns, one eyebrow raised. Opportunistic creature that he is, he slips an arm around your waist before you can protest.

“Why do you need me to hide you?” Sylus’s grin was anything but comforting. “Are you trying to avoid someone? Do I need to take care of it for you?”

The expression on your face must’ve been comical for Sylus chuckled. “You should see how you look right now. I want so badly to know who it is you’re hiding from.”

Zayne had made it to the counter now and you shifted to stay out of sight, still using Sylus to shield you if the other man looked over this way. The barista has the worst timing and offers your drinks at the same time Zayne steps towards the end of the counter. The two of you lock eyes. Time freezes. Zayne's gaze slowly slid from you to Sylus, whose arm was still slung low across your hips but it was too late for you to do anything but accept that. 

Sylus, meanwhile, doesn’t seem fazed and takes the cups one by one, handing yours to you and thanking the worker with a dazzling smile that makes her flustered and blush. “Hope you and your girlfriend have a great day!” she chirps cheerfully.

That immediately snapped you out of your shock and you turned with a disgusted frown. “I’m not-“

“Now, now there’s no need to be hurtful, sweetie.” Sylus interjects. “She's just trying to be nice. Besides,” he leans in close, his saccharine tone dropping an octave. “If you correct her, she might think she has a chance.” He swivels his cup to show you the number written cutely on the side of it and for some reason it makes you jealous and grumpy. 

Zayne’s order comes up quickly after and he inspects the number on his own cup before showing it the two of you. “Is this a new cup/service they perform here for every customer?” He remarks dryly, but there’s a hint of mischief in his expression. He shows the same number on the side of the cup and you have to hide a smile behind your hand. Sylus looks like he swallowed something sour and pulls out his phone. An awkward silence lingers and you almost wished a wanderer would appear in the cafe to save you from this situation. Still, you had to try to salvage the moment and you searched for something to say.

“Why don’t we sit down?” You try brightly and Sylus’s fingers dig into your hip but he doesn’t look up from whoever he’s texting. 

“Sure, and you can introduce me to your friend.” Zayne said calmly, but you’re panicking internally. “I thought I was your only friend, so I’m glad to see that isn’t true.” He was teasing you and you blushed. The two men turn to each other and Sylus tucks his phone away, business concluded. 

“Sylus.” He held out his hand. “Zayne.” They shake hands and you all find a small table to sit at.

They both focus their attention on you and you realize as your stomach churns nervously that this was going to be one interesting afternoon.

[cannedsmores]

I just played the "don't fear the reaper" ending for the first time and I can't stop thinking about Johnny in Net!V's body

Johnny who keeps fidgeting with Net!V's encrypted shards, not knowing how you ever read things, muttering to himself if you ever knew what you were doing.

Johnny who keeps activating the kiroshi lense and hopes that's V's name pops up. somewhere. anywhere.

Johnny who, accidentally, (Rouge thinks otherwise) activated V's arm implants and doesn't know how to turn it off, yelling to someone about how you turn the safety on.

Johnny who debate's, for the first time in his life, on if he should drink. If he should even go to the Afterlife.

It's been so hard without you, V.

You should've been here, not me.

You're a better legend than me, than any of these gonks.

You fought so hard, just to waste it on me.

Maybe you knew better. Maybe you were a dumbass. You're still a dumbass... I hope you still are.

Johnny who tossed every drop of alcohol in your apartment. Shit, could've sold that.

Johnny who could never learn how to use your cyberdeck, which makes it funnier when he accidentally hacks a vending machine.

Johnny who sometimes gets a weird error message on his computer.

who hear's a weird static on the radio nobody else seems to notice.

who hear's a familiar voice when one of his songs plays on the radio.

Johnny knows it's probably nothing.

Johnny's still getting used to this body. new ears is all.

It's probably why his hormones are so out of wack.

it's probably why he's getting all mushy and teary eyed.

That's all V, just getting used to being you.

Even when it's quiet.

Your voice is all I hear.

I won't fuck this up, V.

[copper-meadows]

The first time Bruce sees a body is through a news report on his father's desk. The second and third times are behind a movie theater with his mother's collarbone exposed like a shiny necklace marking her for death.

He loses track after that; it is Gotham after all (even if you count his time overseas).

The point is, he's prepared for this. Maybe not this close to his own home, though, three blocks into Bristol and just down the road from where he knows the owners of the car reside.

The car is flipped onto its hood, propped slightly up against a tree 40 feet from the borderline country road where the tree line begins.

Bruce knows from a glance alone that the Drakes are dead. It pings something like guilt in his chest because he was supposed to have dinner with them and one or two other neighbors downtown.

The restaurant was too close to the old theater for Bruce to feel fully comfortable attending, so he canceled, sent Dick to bed early, and ventured out into the night.

He's not even responding to the crash via page, he was on his way home.

The car's been here for hours.

Metal creaks and glass shifts across the asphalt as Batman creeps closer to the car. A sniffle, and a groan, and suddenly Bruce is reminded that the two bodies up front are crushed and cold.

He crouches to see where the last bit of breathing is coming from.

“I threw up.”

Bruce freezes, cowled eyes locked with light blue ones. “Mr. Wayne?” Something like alarm bells ring in his head at the use of his name. He glances at the bodies, then at the child in front of him.

“It’s okay, Tim. I won’t tell anybody.”

Bruce puffs himself up a little bit, hopefully to distract Tim from where he can so very clearly see his parents.

"Why don't you come out here, with me?" Bruce croons.

Tim nods slowly and Bruce unclips his cape to lay over the class covered roof.

Bruce does a once over of the child and pulls him away from the wreckage once he's crawled out from where his booster seat was hanging above him. Tim tackles his waist in some broken attempt of a hug.

He's supposed to be prepared for this.

Bruce Wayne's Butler reports a car crash only three miles from his employer's home. Officially, Batman is the first to respond. The EMTs are second.

Bruce Wayne receives an emergency placement as the closest and most available registered foster patent in the area.

Batman takes Tim Drake to Wayne manor; he also tucks him in.

[a-penny-for-your-words]

Have a little jerejean drabble i did last night 🫡

[hollythius]

too scary? ﾉ chuuya nakahara x reader

synopsis. reader wants to watch scary movies. their boyfriend wants to get too touchy on the couch.

length. drabble

ﾉ CHUUYA NAKAHARA

“baby doll, this is boring,” he groans into your neck. you’re half laying on top of him, half sitting in his lap. a soft, fluffy blanket keeps the warmth of the popcorn bowl around you. he makes attempts to nip at the exposed skin of your neck, but you avoid him every time, eyes laser-focused on the movie.

“chuuya, stop it. watch the movie,” you pout, but his ministrations don’t cease. you can feel his smirk as he licks a stripe down your neck, beginning to bite the soft flesh of your shoulder. “chuuya!”

“what, babe? don’t like the movie?” he grins, and knows he’s won this little battle. you turn in his lap, letting the movie turn into background noise as you finally kiss him. he melts in your arms, face red and eyes lidded with lust.

“this is much better, i think.”

[such-a-daydreamer]

*flutters eyelashes*

Me when I oc x cannon but it's platonic and I also get to expand on pre-existing lore with my random ass world building.

Check under the cut for a fic drabble of this scene and the oc info

My Gf Oc Manny!!♡♡ :3 (I want to be him so bad the gender envy hits HARD grrrgrrgrgrgrgrrrgrgrgrgrr)

He is a closeted gay man and cursed so every cryptid in a 20 mile radius wants him dead.

Now onto the story explaining the comic scene!!!!!!!

Lil' warnin, but there be blood!!!

✄----------------------------------------------------

The three men wander the halls in silence, they each know the importance to stay quiet in times like this, and each man has decades of experience in stealth.

The hospital -a real classy choice- is full of spiderweb decor, and each room has decayed into an unrecognisable square full of debris and metal skeletons.

Stanley wishes he stayed in the van, while Ford's mind is occupied with suspicion regarding their new "travel companion."

"So, Manny," Ford breaks the silence with a directed whisper. He doesn't miss the way the other two flinch despite his soft volume. "Since you're the "renowned expert" when it comes to cryptids, I'd like to ask you about this particular case."

Stanley feels the tension crackle between them, and suddenly regrets standing in the middle. Then again, if they decide to jump at each other's throats, he'd better stay put. Not that he'd like to break up a fight in the middle of a possibly-haunted run-down hospital, but he's done worse in worse places.

"It's a curious case." Manny mumbles out. "I've never seen a ghost report like this before, but considering it seems to be a location-bound spirit, I'm not exactly surprised. They tend to get more bizzare the longer they "ferment."

"Location-bound?" Ford repeats.

Manny gives his rival a sideways smirk. "C'mon now, this is basic ghost knowledge. You tellin' me you don't know?"

"I prefer to sort them through catagories, is all." Ford dismisses the subject in favour of staring at his EMF reader.

Another round of tense silence goes by, yet the three of them have come across nothing. Stanley is beginning to think this is just a huge waste of time.

Manny holds a similar sentiment as he pauses to shine his UV light around one last time.

"Welp, if nothing has come to get us by now, there's probably nothing here. This place is a bust, let's wrap things up." He points his finger up and swirls it before pointing to the exit.

"What, just like that?" Stan grumbles out as he lowers the flashlight. "Ya couldn't have made that decision any further back?"

With the light now pointed at the floor, it leaves everything above their waists in a dark abyss. The only other light source is from the UV lamp Manny holds.

"Scared, are we?" Ford asks, but there's an undeniable mocking tilt to his tone.

Manny rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, the UV light in his hand makes the side of his shirt glow.

"No, it's just that I've got something you don't."

"And what's that?" Ford crosses his arms in a similar fashion.

Manny does a little flourish with his hands. "Magic."

Stan and Ford scoff in sync.

"I knew I shoulda stayed in the van." Stan begins to make his way back to the exit while the other two continue their squabble in the growing dark.

"So, this "magic" lets you know when ghosts are about?" Ford asks, partly curious, and partly to jeer at him.

Ford isn't poking fun at Manny because he doesn't believe in magic, it's just that if a spell to detect ghosts were in use, Ford would be able to tell. So far, Manny doesn't have anything on him that could be used for such a spell.

"Not just ghosts, but yes, it does. And it's totally real, by the way!" Manny spins on his heel to follow Stanley out before he pauses abruptly.

"Actually, nevermind. I think we've found our ghost."

Ford follows Manny's gaze down the empty corridor. The shine of the UV light does little to illuminate their surroundings, unlike the flashlight Stanley had.

Ford feels his blood run cold.

"Don't panic."

"I'm not panicking." Ford replies evenly.

"Really? Because you just broke the EMF reader."

Ford looks down to the cracked device in his hand. Alright, he'll admit this to himself and no one else, but he is very much panicking.

"The ghost didn't trigger the EMF reader, so it's not like we'll be needing this anyway." Ford throws the broken pieces to the side with a little more force than he intended.

"Uh... true, I suppose." Manny shines the UV light around the hallway before spotting drops shining against the cracked tiles. "Okay, we've got a lead, at least."

"And all it took was my brother to find it." Ford grits out under his breath.

Manny lifts his hands in a placating gesture. "I know you probably don't want to hear this right now -and certainly not from me- but let's try to calm down and keep a level head, alright?"

Ford shoots him a deadly glare, but Manny simply holds his gaze with a worried expression. Out of both of the twins, he likes Stanley more, so Ford isn't the only one concerned.

The trail leads to a room, a suspiciously empty room. The far back wall glows brightly under the shine of the UV light, and that's the only thing worth noting. Ford is reasonably upset once he realises Stanley isn't here, but trudges onward into the room anyway.

Ford stares at the wall curiously. He places a hand on it, and it feels completely normal. Dissapointed once again.

"I wonder why only this wall glows under ultra violet light..." Ford murmurs to himself as he raises a hand to place on his chin.

"Up."

"Pardon?"

Ford turns to Manny and sees his horrified expression. Before he has time to register that, something wet splatters against his glasses.

Manny lifts the UV light upwards just as Ford lifts his gaze.

"Ah, I see... Up."

There, strung up by limbs of what can only be assumed to be blood, is Stanley. He looks furious.

Behind him, flat against the roof, glows an almost cartoonish depiction of a human. They laugh, but there's no sound. Slowly, it removes itself from the roof and takes form. It shines hauntingly under the UV.

What first started as a light sprinkle, is now a full on downpour of blood as it looms above them. The stench of it makes Manny gag, but Ford just narrows his eyes at the being while it approaches slowly. It continues to laugh silently; that's the only thing that irks Ford.

"How do you suppose we kill this thing, Manny?"

Manny jolts a bit in surprise at being addressed, then strugles to form a sentence for a moment as he takes a step back.

"Wha- me??? I dunno, usually with ghosts I can just exorcize them with my medallion and be done with it, but that isn't a ghost." He points at the liquid mass that Stanley's struggling to escape from.

Both men would be worried about Stanley possibly suffocating from the stream of blood that covers the lower half of his face, but it doesn't seem to be covering his nose. Which, as relieved they both are, is still concerning.

Could it be using Stanley as bait? What is it planning? Whatever it is, no one's keen to find out.

It continues to move forward, almost sussing the two men out like they are to it. Ford mentally checks his inventory for a weapon that would do the most damage to a creature made of blood.

Predictably, nothing comes to mind.

He lets out a frustrated growl. "We have to do something."

Ford decides to take the inititive, seeing that he's the more capable one out of the two. Not that he's being presumptious of Manny's abilities, but the fact of the matter is that Manny is staring at the creature like a deer in headlights and Ford is inches away from trying to pummel a liquid.

Which also isn't good, but it's better. Ford will take better than nothing.

Flicking open one of his books from inside his coat, he searches through it until he finds what he's looking for.

"I believe this might be a failed resurection spell."

Ford pauses on an old partchment page in a plastic sleeve, the words are written in a dead language, but to Ford, it's like reading english.

"The closest I can find to-"

Ford doesn't get time to finish before he finds himself being shoved to the side. There's a split second where he sees Manny, then he doesn't.

A stream of blood slams Manny through the wall and leaves him lying in a pile of debris in the corridor. A pained groan proves that he's alive, so Ford returns his focus to the task at hand.

Despite the UV light now being broken, the mass of blood continues to glow.

"It would appear you've made your final assesment." Ford says to it while pocketing his book. He's read all he needs to, anyway.

It looses it's human form in favour of creating large waves to try and crash against Ford, but it underestimates his speed.

Manny stumbles back into the room with his madallion in hand. He raises it and the metal glows blue, acompanied by a low hum.

The blood spikes, then looses form. Most of the blood falls to the floor with Stanley, who wastes no time to put distance between it and himself.

Multiple souls writhe and scream as they try to escape the blood, but eventually they fade back into the mass. Manny lets his arm drop as he joins the other two men.

"There should be some sort of tether, we need to destroy it." Ford explains.

"There's a heart-" Stanley starts as he tries to wipe himself clean. He makes zero progress. "-Inside that thing somewhere. It kept movin' the damn thing around though, so I couldn't get a grip on it."

"That's fine, Stanley, thank you." Ford turns to Manny. "Do whatever you did before, and I'll shoot its heart."

Manny, although dazed, manages to nod and turns his attention to the growing ball of blood.

"Do you still have your flashlight, Stanley?" Ford asks as he pulls out his trusty gun. The line along the side of it's triangular barrel glows blue as it whirrs to life.

"Even if I did, it would've been chock-full of blood."

"Alright. Just stay behind me, then."

Begrudingly, Stanley complies. He wishes he could do more to help right now, but he has neither guns nor magic. He would offer to punch the thing, but he's been doing that for the last ten minutes and done no damage.

Once the ball reaches its previous size, jets of blood shoot out from it. Stan and Ford manage to dodge them but Manny gets clipped on the shoulder.

He stumbles back against the wall with a pained hiss. Yet he still manages to lift his hand up to activate the medallion. Ford takes aim.

The blood spikes again, more violently this time, before a large jet of blood slams against Manny.

"Dammit-!"

"Manny!"

Ford takes a shot in the dark, hoping to distract it.

The lazer passes through it with a sizzle as blood get evaporated. The light from the lazer briefly illuminates the inside of the blood enough for Ford to see the heart.

It stops the constant stream against Manny to turn its attention towards Ford. Manny falls to his knees and coughs violently.

"Sixer." Stan calls out to his brother with a warning tone.

"Manny, I'm counting on you here!" Ford takes aim again.

It takes the form of a human again and its expression is livid.

It lunges at Ford with its mouth open too wide for a human in something like a scream.

The being stops a mere inches away from Ford, its hands ghosting around Ford's neck before it writhes. Blue spikes jut out from it as it tries to keep form.

It takes a moment, but Ford can feel something on his shoulder. He glances to his left and sees Stanley with a handful of his coat, his stance tense and ready to run. Ford hasn't seen an expression this serious on his brother's face in a while as Stanley stares down the entity.

Ford returns his gaze forward.

For a split second, he sees the heart reveal itself.

He shoots.

✄----------------------------------------------------

Uhm!!! I like them all a lot :3 Mwah mwah mwah kisses to all. If you read allat then THANK YOU!!! I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!!! Lmk if you'd like to see more of this stuff idk

[vamp-stamp-fics]

Jet hates his face. He can't stand to look at it. He always looks away from mirrors when he's in the bathroom or ignores his reflection completely whenever he walks past water.

He doesn't believe he's ugly, no far from it. Jet knows he's not from the way girls smile shyly whenever he talks to them. The way they giggle with flustered faces whenever they're in his presence. Smellerbee always rolls her eyes whenever he indulges a little in flirting with girls whenever they pass in a town.

No, Jet hates his face because he looks just like his mother.

His beautiful, caring mother. The one that would always kiss him goodnight after telling him stories of spirits or star-crossed lovers. She was a hopeless romantic jet remembers that. His mother who would coddle him and rock her in his lap after he came home crying, another one of the village boys picking on him for how small he was. Jet used to be quite scrawny and weak if his freedom fighters could believe that.

His mother, the one that protected him from the seething hot flames the best she could the day the fire nation came to their village. while his father did his best to hold the soldiers off. And when he failed to do so, held jet tight to her as she told him to run as far as he could and to never look back. Even promising him she'd be right behind him.

He didn't keep the promise of not looking back as Jet heard the wailing screams of his mother dying. Tears blurring his view of her as the last thing he saw of her was her eyes. Only to see her killer on a Komodo Rhino in front of him with a hatred he'd never seen before.

So now jet covers mirrors. And if he can't do that, he breaks them. Letting the glass shatter as his fist covers in blood. Not only does jet hate that he looks like his mother, but he has the same hatred in his eyes as her killer. Hatred for the fire nation and what it did to him, to his own people and others.

And the thought of the only reminisce jet has left of his mother being tarnished by seeing her face with hatred in her eyes, would kill him sooner than what was to become of him in ba sing se.

[alexandraisyes]

Going through old OC fanfics and docs I wrote in the past. . . squints at the calendar. . . several months I have been rotting silently about MHA and found a lil erasermic snippet. Unfortunately the main fic was. . . despairingly out of character to my current development of my lil OCs I wrote it about however erasermic-

Aizawa shifts under the blanket, pressing just a little closer, clearly pleased with himself, and the only warning Hizashi gets is the light, almost accidental nudge of icy toes against his thigh.

And then a second one.

Right behind the knee, that sensitive, vulnerable bend where warmth gathers and cold pierces.

“Your feet are cold,” Hizashi groans, dramatically flinching away, still laughing under his breath. “I hate it when you do that. You’re a bed demon.” He shuffles away just enough to glare at him through a mess of golden hair and betrayal. “You seduce me, ruin me, and then attack me when I’m most vulnerable. I should’ve seen this coming.”

Aizawa looks entirely unrepentant, maybe even a little smug.

Then, without a word, he does it again.

Hizashi yelps. Actually yelps, like he’s just been struck by lightning. “SHOUTA—!”

Aizawa shrugs, perfectly deadpan, wrapping the blanket around himself like he’s a priest in some cold-footed religion of chaos.

[rapplesart]

Ok but like hear me out .

One of the dc crossover fanfics where Bruce adopts a kid (Danny phantom or Peter Parker iykyk) but instead of you know the bats finding them on the streets or having a whole hero cants and mouse thing or Barbara seeing them in the library they just go to the Wayne’s doorstep asking for money after being broke and having the idea in a half drunken state or joking about it .

Like for example Danny after being chased away from amity park and escaping his parents sits on the rooftop and talks with a gargoyles named Gary

„Yeah anyway that’s how I got here Gary, no clue what imma do know“ he says between another bite of pizza „like I’m pretty fucking broke and yeah maybe buying Pizza wasn’t the best investment in my situation but I was hungry I think I deserve a treat after all that .“

Gary stays silent as the two of them look over the city . Sirens echo in the distance, a few roofs in front of the, a black shadow appears between the gaps of the buildings, disappearing into the shadow just as fast as it appeared. Must be one of the bats Danny thinks .

He sets the piece of pizza back down into the carton in order to take a swig of the wine he stole from Vlads gift basket before his great escape. The man puts puts them on the counter for Mandy to find on a weekly basis now as part of his latest attempt to woo the woman. Jack adored the baskets when they first appeared, exited to have his best friend care about him and his wife.

Danny didn’t really plan on drinking it, he just brought it because it was the closest thing to grab. It was there so he took it . Now, sitting on the rooftop realising how fucked he truly was he decided he might as well be drunk for this too.

„And it’s not like any safe and sane workplace will take a random kid without paperwork. I probably need to do something illegal to go by now , Jazz would be so disappointed „ another swig from the wine .

It was fruity and dry and scratched his throat and Danny honestly didn’t enjoy the feeling but it made his wine just a little bit fizzier than before and it helped in a strange way.

Gary remained silent .

„sure there are a lot of Wayne foundations in Gotham that give out stuff , I did my research once I arrived after all, but they’d call cps and cps would either give me back to my parents or just straight up hand me over to the government so that is not an option „

Another bite of pizza . It was delicious a stark contrast to the wine

„It’s not like I can just go to Bruce Wayne and be like ‚yo got some money?‘ the guy would probably think I’m robbing him and call the cops and yeah, you get the gist of it Gary“

Another few beats of silence .

„But the dude is like crazy rich right? And he has his name on all of these foundations , and people say he’s an airhead so maybe I can just go to his house or something and ask for a donation. I mean it would be for a good cause , feeding a hungry homeless teenager is a good cause isn’t it ?“

„Yeah sounds like a pretty good cause Danny“ Damny answered himself as Gary by lowering his voice . The way one might get more into his head than he thought .

„You know what , I think imma just do this. Let’s just ask the rich guy for money he probably won’t even notice that he’s being scammed and if he does he probably has enough money nöt to care „

[sparkypantaloons]

In the dream Jason has red hair. Red hair and freckles and two parents who love him. That, he supposes, is how he knows he’s dreaming. Willis had barely tolerated Jason, let alone loved him.

In the dream they live in a small travel trailer and work in a circus; a trapeze act, just like Dick’s family had been. And as dream-Jason scales one of the giant poles that holds up the ‘big top’, he sees Dick and Bruce in the audience watching. Waiting for him to fly.

Jason knows what happens next.

Had seen it once, maybe a year after becoming Robin. When Dick and Nightwing both had been cool and aloof and Jason still had stars in his eyes for his predecessor. He’d just wanted the older boy to like acknowledge him. Had tried to learn all he could about Bruce’s first son, find some common ground they could start from, but the video from Haly’s Circus had put paid to that. It was months before Jason could look Dick in the eye again, afterwards. Jason had never meant to— didn’t know what the video was when he clicked on it. And what do you say to a guy who saw his parents die like that? 

He jerks himself from sleep before the dream reaches its inevitable conclusion. Wakes to the cool of his bedroom in the Manor. 

Dick is sat next to his bed. Legs tucked up all awkward-like, in the not quite big enough armchair. His head resting on his knee as he dozes. Jason watches him for a moment, gut still sick from the memory of the dream and the video.

“Hey,” Bruce’s voice is scratchy with quiet, his whisper more of a rasp. Alfred says it’s because he uses the Batman voice too much. “How’re you feeling chum?” He takes a seat on the bed next to Jason. The mattress dips beneath Bruce’s weight, and Jason feels himself pulled towards him.

“‘M’okay.” Jason whispers back, his eyes flick over to Dick. The older boy hasn’t woken.

“You gave us quite a scare.” Bruce says softly, and he runs a hand through Jason’s curls. Some of the dread from the dream, from Dick, ebbs away.

‘I was scared, too.’ Jason wants to say, but the words catch in his throat. Instead he lifts his hands to his face, examines the bandages wrapped round his palms, his fingers.

“I’ve already started working on improvements for our gloves,” Bruce says. Gently he takes one of Jason’s hands in his own, his fingers ghosting over the burn left by the grapnel wire. “I’m sorry they weren’t up to scratch.”

“”S’not your fault.” Jason frowns. “Besides,” he yawns. “Knew you’d catch me.”

It’s only because Jason’s been at the Manor a few years now, that he catches the way Bruce’s eyes change at those words. A lightning quick flicker of emotion, guiltfearand— something else if Jason had to guess, before he’s back in control.

“It was Nightwing that caught you.” Bruce says, and somehow his rasp is even worse. “I wouldn’t have made it in time.”

That makes the dread churn in Jason’s gut again. He doesn’t want to think about Dick and falling and what might have happened if Dick hadn’t been there. Or hadn’t been close enough or hadn’t wanted to— Dick hardly talks to him after all. Only when he has to and even then—

Jason pushes the thought from his mind, gingerly takes Bruce’s fingers between his hands, and guides them back to his head.

Bruce’s chuckle is a low rumble, too quiet to be a real laugh, but Jason recognises it for what it is all the same. “Get some sleep, chum.” Bruce says, his hands carding through Jason’s hair again. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”

[nyoomerr]

Shen Yuan entered Luo Binghe’s life like any other good thing he’s ever had: with great difficulty, and accompanied by copious amounts of sex.

The difficult parts don’t bear talking about. Luo Binghe still feels his stomach drop at the reminders of those first few mercurial months of knowing Shen Yuan, at the way Shen Yuan had unintentionally dismantled most notions of what Luo Binghe thought a happy ending should be like. He doesn’t think he’ll ever quite enjoy thinking about that time: it had been, in some ways, a more miserable challenge to overcome than his time in the Abyss had been. 

(It had been, in many ways, the only challenge Luo Binghe had ever had to face that was directed inwards. There was no straightforward evil to banish or monster to slay. There was hardly even a wife to seduce, given the fact that Shen Yuan had let himself be seduced by Luo Binghe’s image long before Luo Binghe himself had ever arrived in Shen Yuan’s world to begin with. 

There was only this: in order to grasp the incandescent happiness that Shen Yuan presented - that Luo Binghe deserved - he had to admit that every moment of so-called happiness he had experienced for the last century had been a fool’s imitation of it. In order to be happy with Shen Yuan, he had to admit to being miserable without him. 

It was humiliating, and it was nauseating, and it had even made Luo Binghe cry once, where he thought Shen Yuan wouldn’t be able to see him. 

He’d been so, so glad when it turned out Shen Yuan wouldn’t even look away from that - from Luo Binghe at his least lovable.)

No, the difficult parts of Luo Binghe’s conquest of Shen Yuan are best kept carefully out of mind. The other, better parts of that conquest - the parts involving hot skin against skin, as close as Luo Binghe could get to fitting Shen Yuan within his own flesh where he could never part from him - those parts are far more pleasant to remember, and Luo Binghe works to make new memories of that sort every day. 

Despite its pleasantness, however, the sex is not Luo Binghe’s favorite part of his courtship with Shen Yuan. 

“Bing-ge,” Shen Yuan calls, voice just an octave shy of a proper whine, “surely we can spend summers in my world? You can’t really think this heat is more pleasant than modern AC, ah?”

Luo Binghe hums, leaning in to run his mouth across the plane of Shen Yuan’s neck, savoring the smell of Shen Yuan’s sweat. His skin is tacky from the heat; Luo Binghe briefly fantasizes about being able to stick himself to it permanently. 

“Wasn’t it Yuan-er who begged to see the Fire-Driven Herons’ migration? It only happens once every decade, after all.”

“I know that,” Shen Yuan says, scowling. “I was the one who told you that.”

“Yuan-er is the most knowledgeable about this world,” Luo Binghe agrees. 

Shen Yuan sighs, squirming half-heartedly in Luo Binghe’s lap - a wordless threat to get up. Obediently, Luo Binghe waves the fan in his free hand a bit quicker in Shen Yuan’s direction, threading delicate veins of qi into the generated wind to ensure it’s pleasantly cool. Satisfied, Shen Yuan settles back in, starting up one of his charming lectures about the fauna of Luo Binghe’s world. 

Luo Binghe listens more to the cadence of Shen Yuan’s voice than to the words themselves. He doesn’t often find it necessary to know the ecological features of a beast in order to slay it, or to capture it for Shen Yuan’s zoo, or to cook it into a proper meal. 

Still, this is what Luo Binghe likes best - what he likes even more than sex, which he’d thought to be his favorite activity from the ages of 17 to 132. 

Lounging on the ground, Shen Yuan sat snugly in his lap and held close by Luo Binghe’s free arm, allowing himself to be pet and cuddled as if it were a natural part of a trip to see some ugly birds migrate - 

Pressing his nose into the nape of Shen Yuan’s neck, left bare by Luo Binghe’s own hands that had been responsible for putting Shen Yuan’s hair up in its current complicated hairstyle - 

Idly fanning Shen Yuan to keep him cool even even while Luo Binghe himself is the greatest source of heat when pressed so close in the summer sun like this -

Over a century into his so-called happy ending, Luo Binghe has rediscovered his greatest pleasure to be physical affection of a non-sexual sort, and Shen Yuan gives it as freely as he breathes.

Oh, he fusses and complains and acts as if he must be coaxed into loving Luo Binghe, but it is such a poor act that Luo Binghe can’t help feeling nothing but warm indulgence towards it. 

“Don’t be so bold,” Shen Yuan will scold when Luo Binghe buys lube without hiding his identity, and yet in the next moment he’ll casually thread his fingers between Luo Binghe’s to hold his hand all the way through their walk down the main street of town.

“Who taught you to act like this, ah?!” Shen Yuan will complain when Luo Binghe ensures his subordinates know what an honor it is to be allowed to look at Shen Yuan, but then it will be Shen Yuan himself who will seat himself directly at Luo Binghe’s side instead of any more appropriate location for a Lord’s wife.

“There’s no need to be so sticky,” Shen Yuan will sigh when he catches Luo Binghe practically running back from the kitchens with breakfast, eager to return to his sweetheart’s side, but then Shen Yuan will happily eat from Luo Binghe’s own chopsticks, even during meals taken in the main dining hall.

Despite all his aired grievances, Shen Yuan himself breaks countless social boundaries a day without even blinking. He truly thinks nothing of it, believing these gifts he presses into Luo Binghe’s heart to be nothing but normal for a couple. Normal! As if Luo Binghe has not heard tavern songs about the Demon Emperor’s shameless new male wife, spun by every servant and enemy alike that has visited the palace and been struck to flustered embarrassment at the way Shen Yuan acts!

Luo Binghe wants to roll Shen Yuan up in one hand and eat him. He dared to say as much to Shen Yuan, once; Shen Yuan had merely rolled his eyes and told him that he wasn’t into “vore.”

(Luo Binghe had made a note to research this “vore” when they next returned to Shen Yuan’s world. He’s learned that he can coax Shen Yuan into a great many number of things, if he does it slowly and lovingly enough. The delay will give Luo Binghe time to figure out a way to both take Shen Yuan’s flesh and blood into his own without then being left without a Shen Yuan to hold in his arms.)

Certainly, some part of Luo Binghe knows this quirk in Shen Yuan’s behavior to be a byproduct of the world Luo Binghe had stolen him from. The standards for modesty are warped in that place, and Shen Yuan had been gently raised by the hand of that world to not notice anything odd about it. 

A god is no less sacred for having come from the heavens where more gods reside, though. Nor does a man feel faith to any of those supposed unseen gods when one presently sits in their lap, free to worship with prayer and touch alike. None of the other people of Shen Yuan’s world had offered Luo Binghe something so precious as the free flowing love that Shen Yuan shows him. None of them had been so foolish, and so sweet, and so carelessly thoughtful despite a cute mean streak hidden within, and -

“Bing-ge,” Shen Yuan calls, and Luo Binghe bites at Shen Yuan’s neck to prove he’s listening. Shen Yuan sighs. “Bing-ge, you aren’t listening to a word I say.”

“I am,” Luo Binghe says, “I just bit you to prove it.”

“Wha - how does that prove - oh, you’re hopeless!” Shen Yuan cries, squirming again, this time with a stronger intention.

Displeased, Luo Binghe casts aside the fan he’d been using to cool Shen Yuan, moving instead to curl both arms around Shen Yuan’s middle. When Shen Yuan keeps squirming, he trails one hand down to rub at Shen Yuan’s thigh, listening for Shen Yuan’s indignant protests. Luo Binghe may have grown drunk on the simple act of holding Shen Yuan without the need for it to be sexually pleasurable, but he isn’t above using sex to keep Shen Yuan close if he must. He refuses to give up even a millimeter of contact with this precious person unless there is no other option. 

“You’re insufferable,” Shen Yuan complains, slapping at Luo Binghe’s creeping hand several times. “We’ll miss the migration we came all this way to see if you keep this up!”

“I’ll miss Yuan-er’s closeness the most,” Luo Binghe says gravely, and Shen Yuan snorts.

“Insufferable,” he repeats, and then gives his most put-upon sigh. “Can’t you just settle for holding my hand for at least until the birds leave?”

Happily, Luo Binghe stops feeling Shen Yuan up and intertwines their hands instead. Shen Yuan praises him for his patience, as if the simple feeling of their palms pressed together isn’t more pleasurable than the greatest heights of ecstasy found in any bed. 

One day, Luo Binghe will confess this to Shen Yuan: that he’s truly deviated far too much from the erotic character Shen Yuan had read all about in that other world. That somehow, when it’s Shen Yuan, Luo Binghe feels so overwhelmed with simple affection that his greatest desires are as chaste as a young boy’s. Oh, he still enjoys the sex, but -

But ah, what he really loves most is this.

[villainbait]

Unexpected Savior

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: hurt, comfort, hurt/comfort, injury, implied violence, angst, canon sylus behavior Summary: An encounter in the no-hunt zone goes wrong and when all seems hopeless, your savior isn't the person you expected. Word Count: >500

A hand harshly covers your mouth and you're jerked against a body much larger than your own, their heat seeping into your back. The familiar voice makes you stiffen but you don't struggle after hearing his whispered warning into your ear.

"Quiet."

The horrifying, ethereal sound of an angry wanderer pierces the silence and you slump against Sylus; grateful that he’s here. It wasn’t who you expected to save you from the wanderers in this no-hunt zone, but Sylus’s presence was comforting in a way you could never fully explain. You had been running from the wanderer that claimed this no-hunt zone as its own, its metaflux fluctuations far stronger than anticipated and that had made you careless. 

Once he’s certain the danger has passed, he lets you go and you sink back down into your hiding spot. He unpacks the supplies he brought and helps patch you up best he can. 

“At least now you can’t run from me for a while,” Sylus teases as he wraps your ankle and you glare. You try to kick him with your injured foot, but he rubs his thumb along the soft arch of your foot and it leaves you gasping instead. 

You ignore him. “I can still fight.” 

“I know you can sweetie, but did you stop to think about whether you should?” A frown accompanied his words and you realized Sylus was actually angry with you. It tempered your own frustration and you stopped fighting him. 

It was hard to argue anyway when you had lost this much blood. “I don’t want to leave you alone to fight them.” 

“Are you actually worried about me?” He sounds surprised, but his expression is inscrutable. 

“Only because if you die here, I do too.” You huffed and he laughed, shucking your chin with your fingers before standing. His gaze lingers on your face until you’re forced to look away, your heart aching uncomfortably from the way he looks at you. It makes you think of all the things still left unsaid and unanswered between the two of you and how you almost died today if Sylus had not come for you.

“It’s adorable how you think anything other than you could hurt me,” he murmurs with far too much confidence. He glances back, making sure you’re as safe as you can be with Mephisto perched on your shoulder. “Stay here. It won’t take long.” 

The dense fog seems to welcome him as he disappears into it and your protests are lost to the wind. You slump against the smooth rock with a sigh and do your best not to focus on the pain from your injuries, your gaze trained on the spot where Sylus had disappeared. You couldn’t hear anything except the soft mechanical whirl of Mephisto on your shoulder and the rhythmic pounding of your heart in your ears. 

…Sylus would come back, wouldn’t he?