#nonbinary fics

[hypermoyashi]

Forged in Fire

Fandom: Trigun

Words: 4,400 (in-progress)

Relationship(s): Tesla & Knives, Tesla & Vash

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Roleswap AU, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Tesla-centric, Abuse, Emotional Abuse, poor parenting, Knives's A++++ parenting, Body Horror, Heavy Angst, Gore, she/they Tesla, non-binary!Tesla, Trans Millions Knives (Trigun), Trans Vash the Stampede (Trigun), Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Trigun Ladies Week, Day 4

Tesla was born after the SEEDS fleet crashed into No Man's Land, and of everyone, it was Millions Knives who found and raised her.

Written for @trigunladiesweek

[read it on ao3]

[my-castles-crumbling]

weight - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 297

“Moons, I have an important question.”

Remus looked up from his book, only half paying attention. Because, since getting together a month ago, Sirius asked ‘important questions’ a lot. Some of them included, but were certainly not limited to:

Would you love me if I were a worm?

Would you love me if I turned into a dog and ate all of your homework?

Would you love me if I lost all my teeth?

Would you love me if I was bald?

And, Remus’s personal favorite, and the one that confused him the most, would you love me if I was never born?

Of course, Remus answered yes to all of these, because he’d known Sirius for almost five years, so he knew how to placate him. 

So he expected this question to be the same.

“Would you still love me if I dressed like a girl sometimes?”

But now, Remus gave his boyfriend his full attention, because the question seemed to hold more weight. 

“Of course I would, baby,” he replied earnestly, looking over and meeting Sirius’s eyes. “Do you…really think I wouldn’t?”

“Dunno,” Sirius mumbled, playing with a loose thread in his blanket. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

Remus chuckled and moved to sit next to him, grabbing his hand. “I think you’re weird. But however you want to dress, I’ll always think you’re stunning. And I’ll never stop loving you. I promise.”

Gray, tear-filled eyes finally met his own, and Remus momentarily was breathless. “I’m still a boy,” Sirius murmured.

“Even if you weren’t,” Remus swore, “I love you for you.”

At this, Sirius smiled a bit. “What if I were a snail?”

Remus froze and let out a long-suffering sigh, then grabbed a nearby pillow and hit Sirius over the head with it.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

(The last thing Sonic!Reader or Flash!Reader sees after being chased by an alternate version of Mark.)

The Marks all have a bone to pick with you, each and every last one of them. In every universe, you either get killed by Mark for not joining his empire or for not becoming his pet. In each universe, a Mark has confessed to you or afforded a spot in his empire, and each time you turn him down because this isn’t the Mark you fell in love with in high school or the sweet boy you met at the comic book store. This is a whole different man—one who is filled with bloodlust, one with the mind of a conqueror, one who cares only for the dominion of the universe. But you’re the only you who hasn’t left Mark; you’re the only one who stands beside him, and the other Marks think it’s unfair. You were supposed to be on their side; you were supposed to hold their hands, pat them on the back, and tell them they did a great job. You’re meant to hold his arm as the two of you watch cities burn. So when they hear there’s another version of you, they’re up and ready, offering you the same thing they offered a different version of you years ago.

"We can finally be together now that the empire figured out a way for you to live longer than your short, pathetic life, and you won't even age, love."

"Don’t be foolish like others, [Name]; please just come, and you’ll have a place in my empire."

"How could you leave me, my queen? You were meant to remain here with me forever."

"Really, you chose him over me? We're practically the same person, [Name]!!"

Doesn't matter what they tell you; like Usain Bolt, you're running off in a haze of blue lightning. Let's just hope they don't catch up or slow down. But then again, these boys might destroy each other before they get their grubby hands on you. They're yelling your name, screaming it, actually, but you won't slow down. You've been running so long, I don't think you can slow down. Oh, fuck, you've been thinking too hard. The one with the ridiculous Mohawk is gaining on you. Girl, if you don't run faster—oh, shit, you can't feel your legs, and you feel him getting closer. Is this the thing Red Rush warned you about? You have to stop running before you give out or explode into millions of atoms. But you can't let those creeps catch up, so smile through the pain and leave those idiots in the dust.

[upon-sunflower-trails]

technical difficulties

tenna x reader | part 1 | 1308 words

in which you discover a little secret of your boss'...

maybe i'll make a continuation to this fic if i feel like it (or if there's enough demand for it)

UPDATE: part 2 of this fic is here!

warnings: VERY suggestive, boss x employee relationship, not proofread!!

work below the cut!

It hadn't been long now that you'd been working under Mr. Ant Tenna at the TV station. For the most part, you kept to yourself, unless your assistance was needed by the film crew. You kept Tenna's station running smoothly thanks to the work you did.

Which was exactly why he wanted to do something to thank you.

His plan was simple, really. Surprise you with a cake (with help from Ramb, of course), give you a fancy pen, and then sincerely thank you. You'd be smiling and on your way, and Tenna could get back to his regularly scheduled broadcast.

"Mr. Tenna?" You knocked on the door to his office, stack of papers in hand. You had made sure to painstakingly scrawl out the schedule for next week's broadcast on paper, after copying it from the spreadsheet you made on your computer at home. Tenna didn't need to know that, though. He hated anything to do with emails and whatnot, meaning on office hours, you worked by hand. About a week into working for the TV-headed man, you realized how inefficient that system was, and opted for secretly configuring schedules at home before transferring them over to bring to work. What your boss didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The door flung open, nearly knocking you over with its gusto. "Y/N! My most valued employee, the star of the show! Come in, come in!" His beaming smile never seemed to waver as he ushered you into his office.

The sheer size of him never failed to take you aback for a moment. Your boss towered over you, and his larger-than-life personality certainly didn't help. You offered him a small smile back before dropping the papers off on his desk.

"Here's the schedule for next week, sir. I'm guessing that's why you wanted to see me?" Your tone was slightly cautious. You knew that Tenna could be a bit unpredictable, which was why receiving a one-on-one invitation to his office worried you-- just a bit.

Tenna barked out a laugh, shaking his head. He slid into the seat behind his desk, gesturing to the chair in front of it.

"Not at all, actually!" He laughed again before pausing, pulling on his collar. "But- Well, that's not to say that your efforts aren't appreciated, of course!" A light blush appeared on the white screen of his face before he straightened out his suit jacket, sitting up taller.

"What I meant was... That's not why I called you in here today. You see..." Tenna's grin grew impossibly wider as he reached under his desk, before re-emerging with a large white box, "I wanted to thank you!"

You blinked, mind going blank. Thank you? Was that really the reason he'd set up a private meeting? "Oh- Really?"

He nodded, much too eagerly, before pursing his lips and ducking back under his desk.

"And that's not all!" He chimed, mimicking the tone of someone off the shopping channel. He came back up, holding a nicely wrapped gift before setting it down in front of you. "I figured it was the least I could do for my best employee."

You could feel your heart thrumming in your chest at his words. Sure, you'd had a workplace crush on your boss of all people since you started working there, but this... This was almost too much, even for you!

"S-sir, I-" You began shakily, quickly being cut off.

"You can just call me Tenna, really. We don't need all of those... stuffy formalities." He waved off any concern you had before opening the larger of the two boxes and pushing it towards you.

You nodded at his words before peering into the box, which held a nicely decorated cake.

'Thanks for all you do, it's true! You're the best :)'

If your face wasn't already flushed, it certainly was now. Your gaze snapped up to Tenna's screen in an instant. His smile, usually so wide and practiced, had softened as he looked at you.

"I wanted to do something nice, for all the work you put in to make things run smoothly around here."

You were speechless for a moment, a million thoughts racing through your head. His smile faltered at your silence, growing self conscious under your gaze.

"B-but if it's too much, then, uh..." He pulled the box away, shame creeping into his features. You snapped out of your daze, hands flying to the cake box.

"No! No, not at all, Tenna. I think it's really sweet."

You gave him an encouraging smile, hands resting over his. You could've sworn you saw his screen flash to static for a split second before he straightened back up, smile growing.

"Well, I'm glad! Can't get much sweeter than cake, right?" He laughed loudly to himself in a desperate attempt to cover up his nerves, slapping his hand down on his desk as he lost himself in his hysterics. The smaller, carefully wrapped box fell to the ground.

You let out a noise of surprise, rising out of your seat. "Oh, I'll get th-"

"I CAN GET IT!" Tenna cried out, swiftly ducking under his desk to grab the gift. Your brows quirked up in confusion as you approached him.

"Tenna, it's alright, I-"

"YEOWCH!"

You were once again cut off, only this time by the bang of Tenna's head against the underside of his desk. You heard him hiss out in pain before you rushed to his side.

"I'm fine, really, Y/N! Nothing could shake me up more than the digital switchover," he joked, rubbing the back of his head as you carefully pulled him up by his other arm.

You tutted, shaking your head. "I was trying to tell you I could grab it, Tenna. You're much too stubborn."

He sighed, shoulders dropping. "Right as always, of course." He seemed to shrink at your light scolding. You led him to the couch at the far end of the room, sitting him down tenderly. He sunk down onto the cushions, still rubbing at the back of his head as you sat down next to him.

Even when in one of his moods, he was still a sight to behold. You took him in as he sat beside you, scanning over his form. His antennas were out of place, likely due to the force of him hitting the desk.

"Oh, you knocked your antennas out of place. Let me just..."

Before Tenna could protest, you reached over to fidget with his antennas. A deep blush immediately spread across his face, slapping a hand over his mouth as a whine nearly slipped out.

You looked down at him, concern etched on your features. "I'm sorry if it hurts, I've almost got them back in place." You continued to fix his antennas back into place, completely oblivious to Tenna's internal conflict beneath you.

He could have blacked out at that very moment. Your hands gently sliding over his antennas, taking care of him in more ways than one... It was almost too much for him to bear. A groan slipped past his lips as you straightened out his left antenna.

"Shit, sweetheart..." he breathed out, mind hazy. The dim glow of his screen cast up on your features as you looked down at him, realization dawning on you.

Oh. Oh.

Your hands stilled. Tenna gazed up at you, practically panting at this point. You could feel the heat radiating from his screen, as if it were threatening to engulf you, too.

You had two options at this point. Stop what you were doing and profusely apologize to your boss for accidentally engaging him in such an inappropriate way, or...

Gazing down at Tenna, he shot you a lazy grin.

You swallowed hard, grip subconsciously tightening on his antennas before sliding into his lap.

Good thing you were off-air.

[stars-obsession-pit]

Danny got out.

Danyal al Ghul was created by the League of Assassins alongside his brother Damian.

Created, not born. Though they were both grown in the same lab, Danyal always felt the status quo. Damian was the heir, the real son, the one they cared about. Damian got to be a person, the one for whom human terms like “born” would fit.

Danyal was just the extra. The bodyguard to die in his brother’s place and a spare should he be lost.

And Danyal died.

Shed his old life like a snake’s skin and vanished into the bustle of a crowded city.

They would tell Damian it was a mission that went wrong. A failure, like Danyal always was.

But Danyal would call it his first real success.

Danny Fenton loves their new life.

Jack and Maddie, for all their unsafe work practices, care for them. That’s far more than their blood “family” in the League ever did.

Far more than they felt they deserved for the longest time.

So when their brother reached out, tried to reconnect as if they were normal siblings instead of born tools, is it any wonder they lashed out, told him to never come back?

Danny got out. Danyal is dead, one ghost Danny is happy to put down forever.

[rainyr]

🍰 🍰 🍰

“You know, a ganache like this one is remarkably versatile,” Aziraphale said.

“Is that so?” Crowley busied his hands with the mixer, his breath catching in his throat as Aziraphale pressed closer still. He’d left a scant few inches between them, but Crowley could feel the heat of Aziraphale’s body along his back. Crowley turned his head to look at him. “What would you do with it?”

…

Although he was vaguely aware of movement happening around them, Crowley was mostly consumed with the knowledge that if kissing Aziraphale was an option at the moment, this conversation would be going very differently. It wasn’t until Muriel screeched that they startled apart and Crowley detected the smell of smoke.

— Showstopper by espresso_six_shots, Ch 7

Written for @goodomensafterdark’s Cake Bang, A Good Omens Great British Bake Off AU, now complete! Read it here on ao3 (rated E)

Tip me | Buy a print

[freak-accident419]

‘the patch stays on’

Logan Howlett x Reader

(18+ SMUT PATCH!LOGAN HOWLETT x GN!READER)

Summary: Ever since you saw Logan, your boyfriend, in disguise for his mission in Madripoor, you couldn’t stop thinking about him fucking your brains out. Luckily, when you finally get the chance in your hotel room, you have but one special request for him.

Word Count: 2.1k

Content: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, gender-neutral reader, no pronouns for reader, no specific genitals assigned to reader, no use of Y/n, swearing, oral (r!receiving), unprotected penetration, creampie, missionary, riding

(A/n: me when i come back to write a wolverine oneshot… dedicated to @silverskyeline + @stop-talking, my fellow wolverine enjoyers ❤️ to everyone, I hope you enjoy, patch is one of my most favorite wolverine variants. based on/is a combo of both comics and movies. happy reading!)

-

The X-Men were presumed dead by the public. Gone from the face of the earth without a trace. And just for now, the uncanny team of mutants would continue to stay low and hidden, planning to keep it that way.

Naturally, of course, this also included the Wolverine. James Howlett. Logan. Weapon X. Kuzuri. Your lover. Despite having several aliases, in which one of the many would be a hostile sputter of ‘freak’, they would all seem to dissolve by the time he arrived in Madripoor. No, for there was only one name he would go by in this crime-ridden, neon city for the sake of lying low. And it was Patch.

Considering his unique X-Men uniform that incorporated the use of a mask, his full face would be barely recognizable to any of the inhabitants of this foreign island. All he had to do was to wear a classy suit and put on an eyepatch to create a new identity while fitting in with the locals.

In your case, you’d never been on the news or the front cover of a paper, despite your mutant status and affiliation with the X-Men. For quite some time, you worked as a scientist alongside Dr. Hank McCoy at the X-Mansion, while also working as an academics teacher for the mutant students at the school. You were reserved and intelligent, preferring to focus on your studies rather than fight as an X-Man amongst your friends.

Therefore, not being a famous X-Man meant that nobody would recognize you in Madripoor, so you didn’t need a disguise and only needed to wear elegant clothing to blend in. You were still precautioned to lay low and make your presence discreet, however.

Additionally, the trip there was long and even a bit tense, considering Logan’s crumbling fear of flying, which you attempted to soothe. For the most part, you were able to calm his nerves and himself down.

He wasn’t very fond of the idea of you tagging along either, taking into account the ubiquitous danger of the island, but you insisted. You could handle yourself, and even help him scope out the several crime operations he sought to terminate in the first place. That had been the main reason behind this mission anyways.

Not to mention, you’d been crudely compelled to come with Logan on this mission, especially after seeing him put on that ‘disguise’. Watching him step out in an all-white, three-piece suit, paired with a contrasting black bowtie and eyepatch, gave you some sort of awakening. In retrospect, it was almost comical, if you weren’t so severely blinded by your own lust at the time.

Frankly, you could even say that you jumped his adamantium bones the second you got settled into the hotel. With heavy breaths and desperate touches, your lips moved with his passionately in a deep kiss. Your fingers tangled in his brown, now-messy hair as your bodies sunk down into the plush mattress.

“What’s gotten into you, bub?” He nearly chuckles, almost teasingly as you nipped at his neck quickly.

“I just—“ you pant, cutting yourself off with a breathy laugh as you feel the embarrassment of your hastiness kick in. “I don’t know if it’s the suit or the eyepatch—hell, maybe both—but fuck, it’s making me go crazy.” You felt your body heat up the more you thought about it; his dapper, white suit, the smooth cuffs concealing his wrists, the emphasis on his veiny hands.

Shit. You wanted him to take you with all of it on.

Well… Maybe with just the eyepatch on, at least.

“Mm, yeah?” Logan hums lowly as you two continued to make out, resulting in your voices turning hesitant and shaky. “You’re actually turned on by this, baby?” And before you could even reply, he flipped your bodies over so that your back was now pressed against the bed with Logan hovering over you. His eyes looked both sensual and predatory, eager to feel your skin on his, just like the many times he had in the past.

Logan’s hands ran down your clothed body in a firm, yet worshipping manner, soon removing all of your clothing until you were half naked. You hummed softly in pleasure as you felt his slow hands palm your heat through your underwear, his lips nipping teasingly at your thighs. His hot caresses continued for a while, him adding more pressure with his hand until you let out a quiet, impatient whine, hips slightly flexing upwards.

Affectionately, he kissed at the center of your underwear before slipping his fingers under the elastic waistband, pulling them down your bare legs, past your ankles, and off of your body completely, discarding the futile cloth onto the ground. The cold air met with your naked crotch, which would soon be replaced by Logan’s close, hot breaths.

You shivered with arousal, feeling his arms hook under your legs, hands gripping your thighs as you saw his head positioned between them. The sight of him fully clothed in his white suit and eyepatch while you were completely nude in front of him made you feel so lustful and needy.

“Mmm…” Logan hummed simply as his tongue poked out to give kitten licks against your flesh. A quiet gasp left your mouth in awe as the little action caused you to feel so much already. Then, your breath hitched as his tongue worked stronger, taking you into his mouth as he tasted you and your arousal.

You began to moan softly, hearing his lewd, wet kisses and suctions as his hand moved to spread your thighs wider. “Ahh—Logan—!” You cry in pleasure, hand moving down to grip his hair in your hand. Your lover groaned in satisfaction, your addictive taste leaving his thoughts and vision hazy, sending vibrations to your core. To Logan, your moans were some pure form of aphrodisiac, and he only ever wanted to hear more.

He continued for a while, using his mouth expertly on you as he has for years, his single eye now looking up at you through his eyelashes as he pulls away slowly. Logan, the passionate lover he was, wanted to take as much time as you both needed, to extend this moment of bliss and sexual pleasure. Therefore, he couldn’t let you cum yet.

As he smirked from hearing your playful, desperate whine, he sat up on the bed and took off his blazer, working to undo his bowtie. His hand then reached for his eyepatch until you immediately stopped him with your assertion:

“Wait,” you firmly interject, “the patch stays on.”

A wide grin appeared on Logan’s lips with amusement, now averting his attention down to his button up and pants, taking off every single article of clothing and covering. Except for the eyepatch you requested for him to neglect, of course.

“You do know I can’t see shit with this thing on, right?” He exaggerates with a chuckle, almost mocking your decision for him to keep the accessory. You didn’t know what it was that made it so appealing to you. Perhaps it was the sexy mysteriousness to it that made your boyfriend seem even more badass than he was. Either way—

“I don’t fucking care,” you retort, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him down towards yourself, crashing his lips against yours. You could argue absolutely nothing could interfere with how astonishingly he could fuck you.

As Logan hesitantly broke the kiss, he lined up his body with yours, your legs remaining spread out on each side of his body while he made sure you were prepped. His hands were flat on the pillows beside your head, looking down at you with lust. Finally, and slowly, he pushed his cock through your entrance, gradually stretching your inner walls.

“Mmm… Ahh…” You would moan softly, looking up at him with hooded eyes and a flustered expression as he then pushed in completely, hips meeting with yours. He moaned almost simultaneously, feeling your satisfying tightness around him. Logan pecked your lips once, letting you adjust to his size before he started moving in and out.

“Oh—Ah—!” You whimper as his pace grows faster, hearing him grunt as his cock began to thrust fluidly inside of you, letting his firm pelvis grind against your sensitive flesh at the same time. The combined sensations felt extraordinary.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” he mutters swiftly, rocking his hips at a steady rate against yours, letting his slick length massage and caress your walls. He made sure to move in as deep as he could, desperate to hit every spot that makes you feel good. His hands moved off the pillows to grip your hips tightly, holding you down, “you’re so fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart. Feels amazin’…”

Logan’s arms now hooked under yours, meeting your lips to kiss you passionately as he fucked you sensually. You moaned against his mouth as you felt him become faster, sensing his animalistic instinct to become rougher with you. “Oh! M—Logan!” You whined as his cock continued to ram in and out of your entrance, the contact eliciting wet, lewd sounds of flesh slapping rapidly against flesh.

Feeling your walls begin to pulse and tighten, indicating your closeness, Logan pulled out, making you complain once more.

“Need you to ride me. Can you do that for me, sweetness?” He asks roughly, pressing soft kisses to your neck as if an apology for the abrupt stop. You felt a physical reaction in your body at his lustful words, watching his uncovered eye stare you down with both love and sin. Then you nodded.

The two of you changed positions on the bed, hearing the soft sound of sheets shifting as you climbed onto Logan’s lap. Your hands touched his shoulders, but then moved to cup his face in your palms, stroking his cheeks gently. Pressing a deep kiss to his lips, you moved one hand down to grip his cock, lining it up with your hole. Both of your breaths faltered as you sank down on him, feeling the same sensation as before. The angle change, however, somehow made everything feel so much more pleasant.

“Fuck…” you groan, hands on his shoulders as you began to rock your hips against his. Logan’s hands explored and traveled across your body to feel the warmth of your skin under his palms. His fingers moved with such purpose, akin to playing an elegant harp. You two panted heavily as you started off slow for a while, until you gradually sped up once you practically began bouncing on his thick cock.

“Ah! Ahh! Oh!” You cry, hearing Logan let out small grunts and moans as well, while you fucked yourself on his lap. His hands moved to grip your hips, fingernails digging deep into the your skin to assist your movements. His hands pushed you up and down his dick, letting you feel him stroke your insides.

“Mm—” he grunts as he mutters your name in admiration, thrusting his hips up to increase the sensitivity and speed. “Fuck!” Logan groans, looking up at you with arousal as you kept moving.

You felt your body begin to squirm and tense up, knowing that you were getting closer and closer to your well-anticipated climax. Based on Logan’s panting, grunts, and stuttered hip movements, you could tell he was close as well.

“Mmm—Mm—I—I’m gonna cum,” you whine, holding him close to your body with your arms as your hips kept moving to pursue the final, euphoric sensation.

“Ngh—Me too. Me too, baby. C’mon… Cum for me,” he gently orders under his breath before you felt your muscles clench, walls tightening as you reached your powerful orgasm.

“Mmm—Ahh!” You whine in deep pleasure, feeling the knot in your stomach untangle with euphoria. Your fingernails dug deep into his back, nearly scratching down his skin as your entire body quivered. Logan releases immediately right after, groaning your name as he cums deep inside of you, letting his warm, white seed shoot through and paint your fleshy walls. Your hips moved slowly onto his cock as you two rode out your sensitive, shared orgasm.

You both panted softly and you whined gently as you moved up, feeling Logan’s cock slowly slide out of you, now sitting on his lap normally. You could feel his cum begin to drip out of you already. Your hands caressed his face before you lift his eyepatch up against his forehead, finally seeing both of his loving, intimate eyes. Your lips moved against his in a gentle, passionate kiss that marked the end of your lovemaking.

You were usually clingy at the end of sex, as you would frequently hold onto him like a koala. So there you were, with your arms embracing him tightly, as if he would disappear the very second you let go. Logan stroked your skin affectionately, basking in the afterglow of the beautiful moment.

“So, don’t get me wrong,” you mumble, still merely exhausted, “I love your eyes, but… the eyepatch is just… so fuckin’ sexy. Especially with the white suit, just—everything…”

Logan chuckled humorously at your confession, pressing several gentle kisses on your shoulder.

“Mm? Well, get used to it, bub. We’re gonna be here for a while,” he smirks as he positioned the two of you to lay down beside each other on the bed.

“Oh, I know I will,” you giggle softly, burying your face in his sweat-stained neck.

[addedsugars]

I know none of my mutual will care about this but. I hate how in batman reader inserts they call a reader who's the sidekick for Selena Catgirl/Catboy or some shit.

Just call them Calico.

it sticks the cat theme, it's gender neutral, it parallels Batman and Robin's all black hero + colorful sidekick stic (imagining Calico actually has Calico colors) and it also parallels Batman and Robin's naming convention. Catgirl/Catboy as a name parallels Batgirl more than Robin which is hypothetically fine but barely ever the intention. 90% of the time I've seen Catgirl as a sidekick named used, it's used to be paired with a Robin or to parallel Bruce's relationship to the Robins. Most Robin's have green in their palette. Calico's are most associated with having green eyes. unifying colors!!

[hypermoyashi]

Fic Rec Friday: when all i know is you (and all you are is home)

Author: procrastinatingbookworm

Fandom: Trigun

Relationship(s): Merylmilly (Meryl/Milly)

Tags/Warnings: Nonbinary Character, Coming Out, Fix-It of Sorts, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Canon, Mid-Canon, Implied Violence, Established Relationship, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD

Summary: Milly and Meryl, during the end of the world and after. Putting pieces back together, righting wrongs, and learning things — about themselves, and each other.

I love this fic so much. Milly and Meryl must've gone through so much while the world was ending, in those times off screen that we can only speculate on, and the writer has done such a wonderful job exploring that time. I always love seeing non-binary headcanons in fic, as well. Please give this fic a shot!

[read it on ao3]

[saradika-graphics]

— non binary pride dividers (request)

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕

[nadiajustbe]

The other thing I immensely love about Bartimaeus of Uruk is how inhuman he is. Usually in media authors tend to "humanise" inhuman characters, by giving them stable human appearance or/and character traits. This vampire is actually a 17yo guy. This devil is a 30yo man. This magical god is a always teenage girl and they act accordingly. This is an easy route. Johnathan Stroud doesn't chose it.

Bartimaeus is not a woman but nor he is a man (even despite using he/him pronounce primarily it is canon all spirits are genderless out of nature, some just stend to stick more to one gender than the other). Sure he is not a "child" but nor he is an "adult", because he was never a human in the first place and was never fully presented as either of this. He doesn't devide love in platonic and romantic and doesn't feel a need to clarify. He struggles to explains the way he thinks and difficult for it to translate it to a human reader. He doesn't act as someone of a particular age in "human" understanding as well. He knows thousands of languages and switches between them. He loves humanity and yet still has an unique outside perception of it because he's not a human. He doesn't fit in any of human boxes to check, he's everything and nothing at once. He can look an act of any age or gender or feeling and perhaps fit none of those in your mind.

And this gives so much freedom for creating and fanfiction. Go on make him a young adult college student! Make him a middle aged man who has thousands of jobs! Make him a fourteen year old Ptolemy's twin! Create an AU where he as an anger or a cupid or an ageless God and none of it would be OOC to him! Human!Bartimaeus can be a traveler, a performer, a coffee shop barista, a hired killer! Perhaps don't make him a human at all, what If he is a tired cat who Kitty feeds on her way to work in a shop?

The possibilities are endless because instead of being a human with some cool flashing eyes and superpowers he is not actually a human. He's Bartimaeus of Uruk and that's it.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

(This ask took me forever because my phone was being a bum, then I lost said ask so whoever this was from, thank you, and heres what you asked for)

They would obviously go insane, being kidnapped by some low-life thug in Gotham and held against their will for millions of dollars, but in your eyes, you thought you weren't even worth a penny. You didn't even fight back; no way your shit-faced family would come running to save you. At least Bruce was on the way to save Jason from dying, but there was no way he would do the same for you. You saw the look in his eyes when you attended galas; it wasn't out of love, it was out of shame, pure shame. So you sat there in the cold, dark, and wet room, seeing rats chew on electric cables; even if it shocked them, they'd keep on chewing, keep on finding something to eat, even if there was pain or it would kill them in the long run. What had you thought of yourself so much, proving yourself to people who would never see you as their equal? You were allowed one call, and only one. Your kidnappers thought you would call your dear old dad, but no, you called your mom. You were begging and crying, using "mommy"—you hadn't used that word since you were 13—but right now, you wanted your mom more than anything. Fuck Batman and his stupid kids; you wanted your momma.

She took the message to Bruce; she was going through all four stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, but acceptance wasn't one of them. She wouldn't accept the fact that you might be dead; she wouldn't accept the fact that she'd never find you; she wouldn't accept it at all, and she tore them a new one, cursing each and every family member out while Alfred held her back, making sure she didn't do anything rash, which she would, and the Batfam felt absolutely trembled. Go searching for you? Half of Gotham would have burned down if it wasn't for Tim and Babs talking the rest of them out of it, but let's be honest, those computer twins were up for nights searching security cameras for you. Bruce was the craziest out of all of them; it was like losing Jason again, except it was his own flesh and blood, and when he heard that you called your mom for help—not him—he lost it. She didn't even have enough money for the ransom; she couldn't pay it off, but you called her instead of your billionaire father, who was BATMAN! For Christ's sake, did you really not trust him? Did you really think you weren't worth the trouble? Did you think he didn't love you?

He was going crazy in his study just at the thought that Dick, Jason, and Cass were going full rage mode. They'd been beating thugs into unconsciousness; some of their faces were unrecognizable if they didn't have an ID on them. Damian was very confused; he didn't know what to feel. At first, he acted aloof. Why did they want you of all people? You were useless, a disgrace to the Wayne family name, weak and replaceable, and when he shared those feelings with Alfred, the old butler who always seemed to understand him, walked away without a single word. It just didn't make sense to him. Why did the old man care, and why did everyone care now, and why did he care? This wasn't like him. Not at all.

Steph felt like she failed as a sister, as a hero. How could anyone hurt you? You're so sweet, so silly, so kind, yet she did the same. She was no better than the thugs. Duke was completely out of it. You'd catch him muttering to himself, going on all-night patrols, hitting the streets, finding all the info he could, and coming back to your big brother when he finally found you half alive, your locs matted and fizzy. Your glasses were broken, and dirt caked your brown skin. You pushed away from them the second they tried to touch you. You screamed for your mom, crying for her like a baby. Still, she finally showed up, pushing the brick of a man that is Bruce Wayne out of the way, grabbing you like you were a baby that was first put into her arms the second she gave birth to you. The Batfam was heartbroken, especially Bruce. He had made his suit less scary for the last child who cried when they saw him, but even when he took off his cowl and got closer, you still cried and pulled away from him, afraid he might attack you. But he wouldn’t—you’re his baby, after all.

[solacynthus]

some character designs from my and @justsaphicyearning 's Murder Drones AU >_<

it's called the Nanny Drones AU and it's basically a complete rework of the canon. me and my buddy had a bit too much fun lol

here's a better look at their bodies ^_^ Tessa also built Cyn herself in this AU which is why she's Like That and also V's buff as fuck [Pumping Iron from Starlight Express plays]

[nonbinairyboi]

Summary: Frankie’s support is necessary when your symptoms flare.

Written for @cosmic-kid-in-motion / @romanarose Disability Visibility Event

Shoutout to @joelmillerisapunk and @probablyreadinsmut for helping me with the graphics when I got insecure

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x disabled! afab reader (no pronouns used)

Word Count: ~2.5

A/N: May or not be based on real life with the substitution of Frankie for my partner (which should show you how amazing my partner is). I was diagnosed with EDS and later POTS so this is my experience. Others may have different experiences :) all are valid

Tags/Warnings: Disabled!reader, Reader has POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) or ME/CFS (Myalgic Encephalomyelitis/Chronic Fatigue Syndrome) since they can have similar symptoms I am leaving it up to y’all, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Brief Smut, Cozy Fluff, Let me know if I missed something

Main Masterlist | Read on AO3

Stumbling

A small smile crept over your face as the open window blew the curtain, widening the stream of lazy sunlight falling onto Frankie’s messy curls, making his eyebrows scrunch as the light hit his eyes.

You clapped your hand over your mouth to try and cover the sleepy giggles his distress prompted out of you. His mouth formed into a forced exaggerated pout before a smirk overtook his features, matching your goofy expression as he cracked open his eyes.

“Morning, baby.” You said. 

Frankie’s groan turned into a whine as he stretched before he curled himself into you, nestling his nose into your neck. 

“Mmmm.” You exclaimed, curling yourself around him as his hand snaked its way under your shirt, cupping your breast and squeezing.

Your fingers curled into his hair as you hooked your leg around him to pull him closer, feeling his hardness press against you through your sweatpants. 

“Take a shower with me?” He asked, nipping at your earlobe playfully.

“Is that a hint about how I smell?” You questioned, raising your eyebrows and looking down at him.

His soft laugh filled the room as he lightly ran his hands down your ribs and dug his fingers in as you squirmed away.

“It was more about me, but… if the shoe fits.” He grinned into your shoulder, kissing the skin peeking out of your top.

Shoving his shoulder, you rolled on top of him and pinned his arms above his head briefly as you leaned in and captured his lips before scrunching your nose and pulling back.

“Toothpaste?” You suggested.

“Toothpaste.” Frankie confirmed, smacking your ass as you clumsily climbed off of him and headed for the bathroom, turning on the shower before grabbing both of your toothbrushes and getting them ready. 

He joined a moment later with fresh towels, hanging them up in preparation as you both brushed your teeth together. Your eyes met in the mirror, the intimacy scrunching lines around your eyes in happiness.

Stepping into the shower, you hissed at the temperature, reaching out to adjust it as Frankie slid in behind you. The week had been stressful and exhausting but feeling him crowd behind you made all of that take a backseat. As he tried to shuffle you around to get some water, you lightly smacked his shoulder.

“Let me do a twirl first.” You said, a goofy grin lighting up his face as you did just that, spraying him with water as your head tilted.

“Ok, ok, my turn.” He insisted, moving you to the side. 

As soon as he submerged himself fully, you grabbed him, pulling him towards you and molding your lips to his, sloppily kissing as the water came down around you.

His hands skimmed your sides, greedily palming your breasts as you grabbed his hips, pulling them towards you, a low groan forced out of his throat at the contact. Frankie placed open mouthed kisses down your jaw to the base of your throat.

A strange feeling of nausea passed through you as he did it, but you pushed it down, determined to focus on the other sensations he was causing as your bodies slipped against each other in the rising heat of the shower.

His fingers slipped between you, parting your folds and moaning at the wetness there. You squealed as he pushed your back flush with the cold tile.

“Sorry baby” he mumbled as he turned the shower head towards the wall in an attempt to warm up the wall.

His fingers were insistent, rubbing you just right before impatiently pushing inside, a choked noise escaping his throat at your drawn out moan.

The sensations overwhelmed you but you convinced yourself that it was just the unfiltered need building inside, pushing away his hand and bringing him closer, your leg hiked over his hip, opening you to him, both of you breathily moaning as he pushed inside. 

Your breaths turned ragged as he continued, both of you kissing each other desperately.

You suddenly became uncomfortably aware of the feelings building in your body that you had been trying to ignore. The heat of the room was crawling up your body heavily. His body against yours was suddenly a too-heavy weight against your chest, your heart rate skyrocketing in a decidedly non-sexy way. Your vision started to swim with dark spots as you pushed him away, gasping for breath.

“Baby, I don’t feel good. I need to lie down.” You gasped out frantically.

You saw his face twist into concern in an instant, his erection taking a backseat as his eyes searched yours.

“I need to wash my hair first, but I need to do it fast.” You rushed out.

He looked sceptical but nodded quickly, handing you the shampoo before grabbing your body wash. As you messily scrubbed the product into your scalp, he rubbed you down with suds, the sexual tension sucked from the room despite his palms caressing you with efficiency.

“Armpits, please. Quickly.” You gasped as your limbs began to feel like weights, wanting to pull you to the floor.

He quickly helped you lift your arms and lather you up before helping you into the spray to wash you off. Attempting to quell the pull of the floor, you squeezed your eyes shut but it seemed to only enhance the feeling.

“Ok, ok, let me out, I need to go.” You said, pushing past him. 

He tried to help you, wrapping his arms around you to stabilize you, but you pushed him away, blind to the helpless defeat on his face.

“It’s making it worse. I just need to lay down.” You insisted, grabbing a towel and throwing it on the ground before sinking to your knees on top of it, laying yourself fully flat on your stomach as the room tilted around you. 

“Baby, go to the bed!” He pleaded, stepping out of the shower.

“Can’t make it right now. I just need a second,” you panted, “Just finish your shower please. PLEASE.”

You heard him suck in a breath, but you could only focus on leveling your breathing as you felt him lay another towel on top of you before retreating. The spots in your vision reminded you of the children’s book “The Big Orange Splot”. It was an unhelpful analogy as the ‘splots’ were black and numerous and no kids were around, but it was the only thought that was running through your frantic brain at the moment. The weight on your chest had reached new heights and each breath was a struggle with your racing heart.

Squeezing your eyes shut again, consciousness slowly began to fully envelop you, red hot embarrassment crawling up your spine.

What the fuck was wrong with you? You had felt better for over a year, and yet here you were, sprawled on the floor, butt-ass naked, shaking slightly as your boyfriend tried to finish his shower with the blue balls you had just given him.

“Will you help me dry my hair when you’re done?” You asked weakly from the floor.

“I can, baby, but I think maybe you should just lay down on the bed.” He said tentatively.

“I’m starting to feel a bit better. I think I could sit in the chair. Please, I’m sorry.” 

“Of course, baby. You don’t need to be sorry.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s my fucking fault. I should have known. You’ve been saying you haven’t been feeling well. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” You mumbled, feeling useless.

You fought the tears beginning to sting in your eyes. Hearing the water shut off, you pushed yourself onto your knees into a sloppy child’s pose, trying to regain your equilibrium. 

“Don’t get up to fast, I’ll be right there.” You heard through the curtain.

Suddenly desperate to prove your independence, you stood shakily, wrapping the towel around you as you stumbled out of the room. Drying yourself off, you grabbed a shirt and underwear, shrugging into them before collapsing into the plush chair at your desk. Frankie joined you a minute later, pulling on boxers before plugging in your hairdryer. Before turning it on, he pulled your chin towards him, forcing you to meet his eyes. You hoped the glassy look had faded slightly, holding back tears again as you saw the openness in his eyes. 

“I’m ok.” You said quietly, letting your gaze fall to your lap.

Frankie took his time, cradling your neck as he dried your hair for you, tilting you the way he needed you as you let your eyes slip closed. 

Once he was satisfied, he turned off the hairdryer, running his hand down the side of your face. You smiled lightly before getting up, leaning in for a quick peck before lowering yourself onto the bed. Hiding your face in the pillow, you decided that you could give yourself some grace and not force yourself to face the reality that your symptoms were flaring and here to stay for the foreseeable future. 

“I’ll be right back.” Frankie murmured, pressing a kiss to the back of your head on his way out of the room.

Laying still, you tried to breathe deeply without triggering more tears as your mind spiraled. You loved Frankie, but relying on Frankie for your every need made you feel useless.

Gaining back your independence over the last few years had felt like screaming and clawing your way to the top of the steepest cliff only to find out it was just a low ledge of a much bigger mountain. The idea of sliding back down made your lip start trembling and your eyes water. You bit down on your lower lip, hoping to stop the inevitable flood from escaping.

Frankie was sweet, but everyone got tired. He might grow fatigued. Your health affected his life so centrally. It made it so that it was hard for you to support him if his health, mental or physical, took a turn, which made you feel like the shittiest partner. He could grow to resent you, even if that wasn’t his intention. 

Your thoughts were tearing down the levy you had tried to build, more tears springing to your eyes and making your nose scrunch. Hastily, you turned on your side away from the door, hoping to quell the emotional wave before Frankie came back and saw your face. 

He was somehow blaming himself despite the fact that you had been enthusiastic and had wanted to shower with him. If he saw you cry, he might feel worse and you couldn’t put that on him.

On top of the out-of-body vertigo-like feeling you were having, your head had begun to have a deep throbbing sensation and your joints pulsed with an ache that didn’t budge as you tried to contort yourself into different positions. 

Your breath was still hard to catch as your heart fluttered, beating out of rhythm uncomfortably. Time seemed to simultaneously speed up and slow down, leaving you disoriented as your eyes tried to focus separately like futuristic binoculars. A deep seductive fatigue settled over you, but you were too uncomfortable to give in.

You lost your sense of time, snapped back to the present only with the squeaking of your bedroom door.

Frankie emerged, letting your cat, Pilot, in with him. Your eyes were still focused on the ceiling as he placed a few items on the bed beside you.

“I want you to drink that Gatorade baby. And eat these pickles for the salt. I have water for later too, ok?” Frankie said.

A new wave of tears washed over you at the gesture. You fucked up his morning and yet here he was beside you, thinking of everything.

“Thank you, baby.” You breathed, trying to calm your breath again before turning over. You sipped the Gatorade slowly, focusing on Frankie’s big brown eyes as they roamed over you with concern. You braced yourself for the taste-clash of the sugary drink and the salty pickles and were surprised when you realized that the sugar hadn’t really registered and that the salt of the pickles simply seemed to quell a strange thirst within you without grossing you out with the switch of taste.

Draining the last of your drink, you settled yourself onto your back as Frankie cleared everything away. Four heavy paws padded their way onto your chest, making you groan. How did every cat have a radar for exactly where your nipples were and just HAD to step right on them? Your irritation quickly faded as Pilot settled on your chest, the real-life weight of him starting to calm the frantic intangible one you had been feeling before.

You felt the bed dip with Frankie’s body as he snuggled close to you, his arm laying lightly across you as he stroked Pilot’s fur. 

“I’m feeling a little better now,” you murmured, “just kinda fatigued.”

“Rest, baby. We have nothing to do today. We can just lay here.” Frankie muttered, kissing your cheek softly.

“You should still go see the boys today, I just might need to stay home.” You stated, not wanting to be the cause of Frankie missing a meet up that had already been delayed.

“I’ll think about it. Just lay here with me now. It’ll be ok.”

Frankie’s words lulled you slowly back to a lazy rest. 

You spent the day lazily by his side before you forced him to go and hang with the boys for at least an hour, content with your view of him getting dressed.

“I’ll be back soon.” He promised, his hands carding through your hair before he leaned on to kiss your forehead.

“Don’t rush. I’ll probably be napping anyway.” You assured him.

As soon as he left, you sat up to drink some of the water he had left you before sinking back down into the mattress and pulling a slightly disgruntled Pilot close to you to curl up with.

You let yourself slowly slip into a hazy nap, consciousness coming and going in rhythmic spurts.

The sleepiness of the day had started to abate as the afternoon crept along, and you were about to reach for your phone when you heard the front door open, a smile overtaking your face at the sound.

“Did you have fun?” You asked when Frankie finally appeared.

“Mmm,” he grunted, settling in close to you, making you giggle.

He updated you on the latest antics of Will, Ben and Santi, your smile growing as you saw his own smile bloom retelling the stories. 

Your hand began slowing scratching across his chest instinctually when he was done. Hiking your leg over him, you pulled him closer and started kissing his neck, a low groan escaping him.

Your hands became more insistent, the need from the morning still burning under your skin.

“I want to, baby, but I’m not sure that’s the best idea.” He said breathily.

“I’m feeling better now,” you whined, “plus, we won’t be standing up.”

Frankie rolled over to look into your eyes, assessing your truthfulness. You saw his eyes darken once they’d found their answer.

“Ok baby,” he growled, rolling on top of you, “you just lie there and let me do all the work. Let me take care of you.” 

You squealed as he leaned in and nipped at your neck and rolled his hips.

You knew he’d always take care of you.

[lotussart]

What's your lambs pronouns?

i thought everyone's lambs used they them pronouns am i wrong

[nomazee]

dan heng x gn reader — 1.6k — long overdue continuation of my dumb delinquent au (and the two remaining fans cheer in delight), high school au, probably very americanized, probably ooc, very super incredibly vague implications to sad things but it's so blink-and-you'll-miss-it, himeko is dan heng's adoptive guardian in this au, do u guys hate me for the hoops i'm jumping through to squeeze every character in this au, reluctant friends-to-crush-to-lovers fast/slow burn unbearable unspoken feelings trope

drabble no. 1 of this series/universe, u should probably read this first heh...

notes: hi guys, i'm back after taking yet another unplanned year-long hiatus, hope u missed me! (the crowd stays quiet) i bring u another delinquent au drabble because the worms got to me and i couldn't help it OK, OKAY?!?! enjoy! :3

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

Dan Heng hasn’t seen much of you in the last week. 

It’s unusual, he defends his worries to himself, very unusual. Despite not having a single class with you, he sees you often. In the last few months since he’s known you, he’s seen you at least three times a week after school, sometimes bloody and other times free of any injury, but the point is, he sees you. Talks to you, lets you walk him home (and pointedly doesn’t let you take him to any antique stores or overpriced tea shops on the way there). 

Today is Friday, and the fifth day straight that he’s stood in the courtyard behind the school for thirty minutes after dismissal, waiting for you to show up, appearing in a breeze of glitter and dust like a poorly-practiced magician. It’s the fifth day straight that you haven’t shown up, and he’s starting to realize how paradoxical your friendship feels. 

Dan Heng is hesitant to even call it a friendship. It feels weird—it’s like he’s known you for years, like he’s grown up with you on the same block in the same neighborhood, except in truth he’s only known you for three months, and he just learned your birthday last week after (embarrassingly) prying it out of you. He doesn’t know where you live, which front door to knock on so that he can check up on you, he doesn’t even have your phone number. All he can do is circle the perimeter of school grounds, waiting for you to show up, or looking for a top hat somewhere so he can pull you up out of it like he’s the poorly-practiced magician and you’re the bunny that he’s unethically shoved into a top hat. 

Luckily for him, though, fifth time’s the charm, and on his (miserable, lonely) walk home, he bumps into you as he rounds the corner to his block. Like, really bumps into you.

He hears a semi-familiar shout of horror as he stumbles back, the sudden slam of pressure on his nose making his eyes water, and he clasps his hands over his nose (it doesn’t hurt that bad, he swears), and then your hands are grabbing his shoulder and giving him a firm shake before he can even process that it’s you he’s just stumbled into. 

“Oh!” You shout, and he registers the tilt of your head through his watery, cloudy vision, “It’s you! I was looking for you.”

Dan Heng feels like— laughing, dryly, or maybe grabbing your shoulders back and shaking you until you reflect on how ridiculous you sound—as if he wasn’t the one wandering school grounds for an hour each day for the last week in search of you, like a lost dog, and god he really hopes no one caught him doing that, but at the very least March 7th definitely saw him, which means it’s going to hit the rest of his social circle eventually and he’ll have to hang his head in shame and stay silent when all his friends ask him why he was moping for five days straight. 

“Looking for me?” he mumbles, repeating your words instead of coming up with a thought of his own because he’s still sort of reeling from the sudden sight of you and the buzzing ache in his nose. “Am I bleeding?” 

“Oh,” you say, yet again, and he feels your hands take his wrists and pull them away from his face so that you can get a good glimpse of him. “Nope, no blood. Thank god. I’d feel really bad if I had to return you to Himeko with your face mangled.” 

“Return me,” he echoes again, and in two seconds flat he sobers up and straightens his posture and finally gets a good look at your face. “What? Where have you been?” 

“Around,” you answer vaguely, like you always do, and Dan Heng is now half a step closer to actually shaking you by your shoulders and turning you upside down until the truth falls out of your pockets like cartoon coins. “I’m back now, though! I wasn’t going to get a perfect attendance award anyways, so it’s kind of whatever.” Your lips quirk up into a stupid smile, and your eyes are scanning his face and his potentially bruised nose bridge. “Did you miss me?” 

“Yeah,” he admits, like an idiot, and he unfortunately doesn’t miss the sudden stalling of your expression, the way your smile freezes for half a second and the twitch in your brow. “No,” he quickly rights, but it’s a moot point by now, “whatever. What do you mean, around? Have you been at school at all this week?” He finally looks down at your clothes, which are very much not any kind of school-uniform-adjacent garb, but rather a collared shirt with some kind of logo on the top left. 

“I’ve been working,” you say, and it’s maybe the most honest and straightforward answer that Dan Heng will ever get from you, so he relishes in it for a moment. “You know, a job. Have you heard of that before? Jobs? Employment?” 

“That’s allowed? Are we allowed to work?” 

“Well,” and you do it again, glance off to the side before coming back to him, “I hope so. I’m not looking to quit this job so soon. They hired me, so it’s all good. I just had to miss school this week so they could train me, but I’ll be back on Monday. You’ll get your daily dose of me again soon, don’t worry!” 

Working. Dan Heng doesn’t know much about your schedule, what you do after school besides annoy him and walk him home and get into fights with seemingly invisible and untraceable and unnameable people, but this feels like one more piece in a thousand-piece puzzle where half the pieces have been drenched in water and bent. He feels two steps away from knowing more about you at the same time that he feels miles away. 

“I’m at the movie theatre,” you tell him, “so you should come visit with your friends some day. Four to ten P.M. on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You can introduce me to your friends properly, you know,” and you have that nearly-tense, nearly-dishonest quirk of your lips, and you’re looking right at him like you’re trying to tell him something without saying it, “unless you’re too embarrassed to let them meet me.” 

This is not the first time you’ve said things like this, not by a long shot. Dan Heng thinks back, and is sure that you say something along the lines of aren’t you embarrassed at least once for every two times that he talks to you. Scared you’ll get caught with me? you asked him just last week, like being with you was a surefire way to get cursed or shunned or ostracized. Dan Heng doesn't get it, and it doesn't sound like you want him to. 

“No,” he says, steadfast, realizing belatedly that your hands are still around his wrists from when you’d tugged them down off his face, and his skin beneath your fingers is heating up rapidly, but so are the tips of his ears. “That’s not it,” and he really doesn’t have the strength to say anything deeper than that, so he dodges, “what were you doing on my street? Did you go to my house?” 

You’ve been caught. Sheepishly, you let go of his wrists, one hand going up to scratch the back of your neck instead, looking at his neighbor’s dead half-dead rose bush next to the sidewalk. “I kind of figured maybe I’d check in on you, or something. Ask to hang out. But when I came at three, you weren’t home yet, so I just kind of hung out with your mom. I was leaving just now. Figured you were busy, or something?” 

It’s an open-ended question, one that Dan Heng is very unwilling to honestly answer—if he did, he’d have to admit that the task that was oh-so-arduously occupying his time after school was sitting in the courtyard like a grieving wife waiting for her spouse to come home from war. He shakes his head instead of explaining anything—that should be enough of an answer. 

“She gave me cookies,” you continue in lieu of a real response from Dan Heng. “Seriously, am I the only one that eats them, or am I, like, stealing your only source of food every time I come over?” 

“The first one. I hate those things. They’re dry. I don’t understand how you eat them like that.” 

“Woah! Rude! Whatever, more for me. Hey, you’ll help me with all that schoolwork I missed, right?” You punch him in the shoulder playfully, which might’ve knocked the wind out of him had it been aimed any closer at his sternum. “I think we have almost all the same teachers. And I'm a quick learner, so it won't be so bad for you."

“Fine,” he says with a faux reluctance that would really only be convincing to a child, “I can walk you home.” 

“Haha,” and you punch his shoulder again, soothing it this time with a pat before you trail your hand up to the side of his neck, clasping the side of it with your warm palm, like you’re holding his pulse in your hand, and Dan Heng holds his breath so you won’t easily feel the rapid thump of blood underneath his skin, “maybe next time, champ.” 

You’re smiling again, laughing when you look at the paling expression on his face, like you know something he doesn’t, and he barely has time to feel disappointed at your easy rejection before you laugh, breathy, one more time, and say goodbye. 

(Himeko, to Dan Heng’s utter misery, hounds him for “details, the whole story, what did they say, Heng?!” the second he steps into the threshold of his house, keys still dangling from his hand. Terrible, awful, miserable. He does in fact, tell her everything.)