#But mostly fluff

[fictoweirdoesten]

I was listening to "I Don't Wanna Do This Anymore" by xxxtentacion on repeat and I kept thinking about me crying into Calebs bare chest-

im sorry if this is sloppy...its 2am and im tired lol

♡

"Is everything alright, pips? Y'know you can talk to me, right?"

You look down at Caleb as he glances up at you, his purple eyes filled with concern. You hesitantly sit at the edge of the bed beside him, shaking your head.

"I-"

But what you want to say won't come out. It never does. You always go mute when you're upset, especially whenever Caleb confronts you about it. You hate it, find it childish, but you can't help it.

Caleb notices your struggle and lets out a small sigh. Not because he's disappointed, but because he wishes he could understand you more, of what goes on in that head of yours.

"...C'mere pipsqueak."

He gently grabs onto your arm and slowly pulls you on top of him. You find your head in between his chest, and you can't help but sandwich your face further in between them, nuzzling against him as you try to breathe, pull yourself together, to collect your thoughts.

When his hands move to your hair, you break, sobbing into his chest as you try to hide your face from him. He doesn't mind, continuing to gently comb your hair with his fingers, murmuring sweet words of affirmation to you every now and then as he encourages you to let it all out. And you do, suddenly venting to him about what's been bothering you lately as your face never leaves his chest, as his eyes never leave you.

"It's okay baby. I'm here, yeah? I'll always be here."

and then you wake up and realize it was all a dream :)

jk:)

[cowboylament]

In any case, he isn’t even sure he can bear it, not waking her. He wants to hear the noise she makes of realization that he’s there. He wants her warm body against his cold one, where despite the chill of his skin she wraps her arms around him. And he can see it, the heat of her. Her cheeks are flushed with her warmth. So he is already climbing. Knees sinking in carefully to the mattress at the bottom of the bed.

Or

Lucien returns home to reader after being away for a month with Jurian. (AO3)

A Belated valentines day one-shot from Lucien's Pov

(~3k words)

Lucien drops his things. The house is dark save for a few small lights left on for him. It makes him smile, ever so slightly, as he flicks each one off and climbs the stairs to their room. If he has to guess why they are on, it is because she believed she’d be awake when he showed up, they were for her to shut off, to keep her awake. Care twofold, staying up, but also leaving the light on for him, knowing tonight, he’d finally come home. He imagines it, as he climbs up each rickety stair, her excitement, that after this long, she thought they’d do this together, climb these same stairs, her going up a few hours before, turning over her shoulder, smiling, knowing what it meant that the whole house remained aglow. The warmth of the light makes him visible to her, there.

At the top, he does not go to her immediately. Turning from where he stands instead and peering down the hall. There she was. Hair disheveled across the pillows, arms up over her head, and his sweater lifts just enough out from under the blankets that the beginnings of her ribcage are exposed. It was too big, his clothes, the wrists folded and coming undone beyond her hands. 

Lucien drops his bag and walks toward her. A small light was left on near his nightstand too. Her breaths, deep, rose and fell so even he almost didn’t want to wake her. But she’d be upset if he didn’t tomorrow, she says it makes her dreams restless. Though he’s unsure now how true that is. 

In any case, he isn’t even sure he can bear it, not waking her. He wants to hear the noise she makes of realization that he’s there. He wants her warm body against his cold one, where despite the chill of his skin she wraps her arms around him. And he can see it, the heat of her. Her cheeks are flushed with her warmth. So he is already climbing. Knees sinking in carefully to the mattress at the bottom of the bed. Slowly on his hands, the expanse between them continues to dwindle as it had all night. Over top of her, still asleep, still slow, he rests the weight of himself down, hovering above her ribcage, just a minute longer, to watch her. The steady breathing, she is out of reach still, in a deep dream, even the air must last the journey down. Her chest rises for him. If he could’ve come home that morning, he thinks, seeing her awake, her joy. But this too, it's hard to say which scenario is better, the other sooner, more time together, but her here like this in her sweetness. How he liked to linger in it. 

Slowly he lowers, watching her, and kisses her skin. She doesn’t stir. He doesn’t care. He presses another just for him and then places his elbows on either side and envelops her. His forearms pressing into the curve of her waist, he lifts her slightly, nuzzling his face into her skin before lightly again placing kisses on the exposed half of her ribs. 

She moves, legs shifting, pulling away, before settling and an intention overcomes her limbs as they cling. 

“Hm?” She says picking up her head. It falls back once she realizes and a long satisfied breath falls from her. She lets him move along and up her body, saying nothing. Lucien knows she’s barely awake just yet. He doesn’t mind the quiet way she’s coming to him. When they’re face to face at last she smiles, eyes glassy, and she shifts so her legs can wrap around him. 

“You’re cold.” She says but buries herself in his embrace anyway. 

“You’re warm.” He hums falling into her and she welcomes him. His hands slide down to her legs that have clamped around him. Like she thinks he’s at risk of leaving again. They’re bare and he lifts his head just slightly, eyebrow raised, to look at her. 

“Far too cold for such displays.” 

“I thought it would help me stay awake if I was cold.”

With a hum, he kisses her cheek three times. “What were you needing to stay awake for.”

“I wanted to see you.” 

He smiles and pushes the hair from her face. Her voice still holds that raspy lethargy it has in morning. 

“I got you something,” She says, an afterthought.

“Oh really.”

She nods, and he lifts himself just barely so she can maneuver over to the side table, so she can open the drawer there. Letting one hand free, she pulls out a slice of cake. Whatever he was expecting, this was not it, smiling so amusedly at the sight, he thinks absently that she is so tired now she almost seems drunk. He the sober and endeared counterpart. 

Her eyes droop a little heavier, her nose scrunched and the flare of her nostrils tell him she’s hiding a yawn. 

“What’s this for?” 

“I saw it while I was out. One slice left. Your favorite.”

“And you got it for me?”

She nods lazily. 

“What did you get yourself?” 

“I didn’t want anything.”

He raised a brow, “Lucky me then.” 

She hums in agreement unaware of what he meant. Standing, separating just a moment, he walks down the hall, her eyes so heavy that to turn his back on her feels as if he’s got two arrows between his shoulder blades. The bag at the top of the stairs in sight, he laughs some to himself, when he bends over, and the arrows seem to shift down, down his back, further. He turns just over his shoulder, finds her smile, the one he knows much of, that confirms his suspicion of where her mind is. Picking up the parcel and turning back, doing what it seems his body is most primed to do—return to her.

“You’re dressed rather…”

“Jurian did it,” he says. His shirt unbuttoned, loose, disheveled. 

He recalled how he’d grabbed the collar, undid the buttons, the smell of liquor on his breath, “They love to see a man all undone. Like he’s just come back from a hard day or battle.” 

Her hum turned into a laugh as she shook her head, amused. 

“He thought you’d like it.” 

“I do.” 

He laughed, sitting on the edge of the bed, “He did this right outside our door.”  

The bag set beside them on the floor she tries to peer into it, he can tell, but instead he tucks his leg in just a little to close the opening. 

“He says hello by the way,” he adds. “And sorry that he had to take me away so long.”

“I forgive him.”

“I said you would.”

“He should’ve said hello in person if he were here.” 

Lucien eyes the exposed part of her thigh, imagines the look on Jurians face if he’d had come in and seen her, how it would convey the sentiments of, you’ll hear about this later. Only for him to silently turn around and leave Lucien and her be anyway. 

“Did you enjoy the alone time?” 

“For a little,” she says. 

He leans on his elbow, sorry to keep her up when she is so clearly tired, but wanting to hear her voice, having wanted for it since he left one month before. 

“What’s Jurian doing in Velaris?” She asks, eyes in the bag. He’d forgotten momentarily. Had not wanted to look away. 

“Speaking with Rhysand about Vassa.”

He dips his arm in, his forearm brushing the serrated edge, the strange pain of it, not real but there, his neck turning to look at her watching him as he fumbles around the bottom, and with her bright glassy eyes the nonpain is gone again. He lifts what he has gotten her from the bag. 

“Got it before I came home.”

A slice of cake. Her favorite. 

She smiles, widely, the thing growing too fast to stop and he feels the softness of her happiness envelop him, ease him more into the mattress. Climbing over her he sets himself against the headboard, the pair of them taking the forks and plates of cake, and eating side by side. Normally she would hate this, eating in bed, normally he thinks she’d kill him, but it seems she started it, gave permission, celebrating his being back. 

“Tomorrow we will have to change the sheets,” she says after her first bite and the back of his head brushes the wood as he laughs. 

“Alright.”

“Do you want to try?” 

He leans over by way of confirmation, half because it will bring them closer and half because he really would like to try. Her fork in his mouth scraping against his teeth, a bit of excess frosting catching on his tongue. She’s smiling now, at the closeness, and he wants to get closer, to see if it will lead to more smiling, greater happiness. 

The illusion of more distance as he pulls back, false, as he shifts his body closer, their shoulders and thighs touching, a blanket separating them. He recalls the time before, when such a thin partition existed always between them, before she had opened for him and he accepted it gratefully, needing more than he had ever needed anything. Even now, even still, always needing her. Her profile, he watches, her mouth chewing, she wipes a crumb from her cheek. The curve of her jaw, her nose, perfect he thinks, fitting against his own perfectly. For a moment it seems those last drinks with Jurian are hazing his judgment, tunneling his vision more than it normally is, his mind spiraling fast, dragged easily away, but it just as easy to right. She speaks, and it pulls him back. 

“I missed you.” 

“Yeah?”

She rests her head on his shoulder and the lightness turns, fleetingly, momentarily, sad. He kisses her hairline, accepts her into him, her body relaxing, noticeably relieved, and the notion warms him. To be, even just in presence, in feel, such a comfort to her. 

“I missed you,” he says, almost without thinking. The truth feels so obvious it seems not to need saying but has now been said. “Next time you’ll come. Wherever it is.”

“I’ll come.” 

They both hum, the empty plates at their laps. Sitting for a short moment in the idle quiet, life stretching before them like a yawn, a yawn which has just escaped her mouth. 

He takes the plates and puts them on his side table. For a moment the two of them admired each other. He could see the suggestion of her body beneath his sweater. His own body a little more obvious, less suggestive, with two buttons left on his shirt done and his pants half-tied. Jurian was a menace. 

“He did this because he thought it would be easier for you to forgive him if I came home half-dressed you know.”

She laughs and it is the most awake she’s sounded. 

“Forgiven whether you’re dressed or not.” 

“Can’t say the same for you. You steal my best, what will I wear tomorrow?”

She smiles “You’ll figure it out.” 

He hums leaning over. The drink’s potency again making an appearance, or perhaps just looking at her makes his world temporarily hazy and impairing. Everything has charm, a sheen to it. She watches him with an amused smirk like she knows this, is realizing it, as he lazily pushes their mouths together. 

“You taste like frosting.” She says between kisses 

“I want to taste like you.” 

“Go shower.”

“Join me?”

“No.” 

“I need my sweater.” 

“Then take it.” 

He laughs into her neck and slowly works the hem of it up her legs. She let him undress her. They separate only as the material arcs over her head and her arms lift. He recalls her body, knows it too well not to, and anticipation warms him as he realizes she is naked now, that he’d see her fully, so real, so there now, and close enough to touch. The force of a month missing her strikes him in the gut, enough that even this small moment with the sweater in front of his eyes, as he pulls it away to toss aside, makes him ache. 

Before he can see however she’s rolled over and begun to lay on her side turned away from him. Her exposed back makes goosebumps rise. Both on her own skin and his. He is caught momentarily in the trance of it, even just this a relief. But when he doesn’t leave she speaks. 

“If you hurry I might be awake when you get back.” 

It is encouragement enough. 

Leaning forward he presses a chaste kiss between her shoulder blades then makes for the bathroom. It was, by all means, the fastest shower of his life. He didn’t even get a towel and she laughs as he appears before her which makes his chest ache with need. He throws open the blankets, not risking her making him wait, and falls onto her as she lets out an amused yell. 

“You’re all wet!” 

He doesn’t care. He cannot care, cannot let any distance settle between them having nearly closed it since getting back but never quite doing so. He slots between her legs and she instinctively wraps around him again. Their mutual wanting had always comforted him, made him feel sane and civil, like it were natural and divine because how could it not be? How could two people equally measured, equally willing, meeting, somehow, with bodies equal loving for the other not be something greater, something beyond his sight? To have her love and to also give her love, the most noble thing he’s done. Will ever do. Will ever have. And natural, he thinks again as chests skin touch, like breathing. Impossible to help. Not like breathing, however, he considers as she exhales. Because he would do so even in death. 

She is looking at him and he realizes, can feel on his face that these thoughts have shown themselves. She is smiling, softly, endeared. 

“You’re never drinking with Jurian again.” 

“You’re the one who brought this on. He had nothing to do with it,” He says trailing down her neck. She sighs, more need than relief, reaches for her own underwear but his hands envelop hers and they pull them down together. 

“Now,” she says lifting her hips into him. 

A rough laugh leaves him, “If I weren’t so in love with you I might chide your impatience.”

“Lucien.” 

But he is impatient too. He doesn’t have the strength tonight, to pretend that he can manage making either of them wait. 

“Alright alright,” he says, kissing her each time and he shifts his hips before he sinks deep inside her. The two of them gasp like they hadn’t expected it to feel the way it did. Even though it has never felt like anything other than that, that ineffable pleasure, how it reaches the spine, sinks into his bones. 

There was nothing romantic about what happens after, need overwhelming them, to know that they are this close again. That one of them is not so far away, and can in fact be reached, can be this close. They don’t let even a space for breath fall between their bodies as he moves inside of her. Lazy movements, feeling it all, gripping, kissing when they remember, but otherwise blissfully aware of their own satisfaction and grasping for it. 

He shifts and pulls her tighter to him. Her noises grow louder, less controlled. He has to bite into her shoulder to release the sense of what it does to him. How badly he wants to devour her. Soothing it over after with his mouth, his tongue. She does not mind, he knows she understands, he has marks to prove the same. He shifts his leg as he had with the bag, closing a gap between them, and she whimpers. No words need to be said as their hips meet and she finds the relief she wants. His head tucks into her neck he hears every moan, every plea, as she wraps closer, as her body pulls him all the closer. Slacking, he knows she is done, tired thing, but she is waiting for him, wanting him still. He can feel it, knows it by how she coos in his ear, about how good he feels, about being his. And he is close, he knows, a tension in his stomach, doubled by the other tension, of wanting the release, but wanting not to separate from her. Wanting her always to tell him these things and them to always be as close as this. 

In the end, he cannot wait. 

Even if he wants to, he realizes, the bliss of her happiness closing around him, her sweet breaths, sweet mouth, sweet everything, it's too much. To be loved that way. His movements for as lazy and needy as they were, falter more. Driving into her, deep and slow, he follows after her. 

With his face in the pillows he feels their laborious breathing push their chests, slotting their ribs side by side, as he had himself done between their legs. Even after, he notes, their bodies, without their permission, but knowing they would say yes, find ways to envelop each other, to become almost a single thing. She is breathing, he thinks asleep again, with the evenness. Striking him in such a way it is almost painful, and yet, he wants nothing more than to bear it. Missing her already, even as she is asleep, he wills himself to pull away from her again. But her thighs tighten, her arms.

“No,” She says, half awake. “Stay like this.”

“Leave it in?” 

“Yes. Please.”

Yes, he thinks, just nearly asleep. Divine.

[aesthetictarlos]

not sure if you’re still open for little prompts but i’ve been thinking about buck and tommy having a little argument about something inconsequential before they go off to work, but then one of them gets (mildly) injured on the job. and when they get home the other helps tend to their (little) cuts and bruises. and idk there’s lots of softness and little i’m sorries and we’ll try not to leave mad again because you never know what can happen in their line of work and now we have something important to come home to, etc. 🥹

Thank you for the prompt, it took me a while but here we go ❤️ I'm not sure about this one because angst is not my thing but they're so cute together so I hope it's good enough!

Buck nearly jumps out of his skin as he hears the key turn into the lock. He's been staring at the ceiling for the past two hours or so, losing track of the time and missing the fact that Tommy's shift ended twenty minutes ago.

His stomach churns at the unfamiliarity of all this; he'd normally stand up real quick to go greet his boyfriend with a hug and a soft kiss, but today he remains on the couch, silent and tense. Waiting.

"Evan?" Tommy calls from the hallway, and Buck can picture him toeing off his shoes and throwing the keys in the bowl on the small cabinet near the door. There's a bit of uncertainty laced to his voice, and Buck hates it.

"I'm on the couch!" He says, clearing his throat, and braces himself for– he doesn't even know what.

"Hey," Tommy murmurs, padding into the living room. "Wait, why are you home already?"

Home. They've been living together for a month now, but he's still not used to hearing Tommy say it.

Buck cautiously lifts his head up to meet Tommy's eyes and something breaks in his chest as he notices how Tommy's face crumples in worry as soon as he spots the purplish bruise adorning his cheekbone and the nasty scrapes along his arm.

"What the hell happened? Fuck, Evan, are you okay?" He asks, and instantly sits next to him on the couch, reaching out to grab his chin and angle his face towards him. "And why didn't you call me?"

Tears prickle Buck's eyes as he stares at him, mouth suddenly dry. "I– I tackled a man on the asphalt. I'm fine, just a bruise and some scratches, nothing broken even if my ribs hurt a bit. That's why Bobby sent me home."

Tommy caresses his cheekbone and his gentle touch feels so good that Buck might cry. "You don't look fine. Your face is swelling, and– Why didn't you call me?"

Buck ducks his gaze and shrugs. "I didn't– I didn't know if I could call you. We– We argued this morning and we haven't spoken all day long and–"

"Oh, Evan," Tommy sighs, shaking his head. "Of course you could've called. You should have," he cuts him off softly, cupping the side of his face that's not bruised. "I don't even remember why we argued but having an argument doesn't mean that I don't care about you. Evan, I wasn't avoiding you, I had a gruelling shift and I thought you wanted some space. You– You told me–"

"That I was glad we were both on shift so we wouldn't see each other for a while," Buck supplies, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry, I– I was mad. I didn't mean it. I missed you."

"Me too," Tommy whispers, bringing their foreheads together. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

Buck collapses against him, curling his arms around his neck to pull him close. "I love you. And I'm sorry," he repeats, voice raspy.

"We can't let this happen again," Tommy says, brushing a hand up and down his back.

Buck pulls back to glance at him. "We can't," he agrees. "What about we promise each other to never leave mad again? We don't argue that much, but we both know it will happen again and–"

"And when it happens, we will find a way to clear the air before one of us has to leave for work. And I also don't want us to go to bed angry with each other," Tommy says, reaching for his hand and squeezing.

"Neither do I," Buck admits, and smiles as he holds out his pinky. "Pinky promise?"

Tommy chuckles, hooking his finger to Buck's. "Pinky promise."

[whitherwanderyouspirit]

Summary: With the former familiars finally sorted and the end of the world averted, Barbara and Walter take a much needed vacation to a tropical resort along the coast. This honeymoon has been long overdue, and Barbara is more than ready to indulge in some quality time with her husband.

[kjack89]

Understand

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

E/R, modern AU.

Enjolras wove expertly through the crowded bar, having done this far too many times, especially recently. He saw the man he was looking for half-slumped at the bar, a row of empty shot glasses in front of him, and Enjolras sighed heavily.

Grantaire spotted him as he approached, and even now, even after everything, Grantaire’s entire expression lit up as he did. “Enjolras!”

His smile was wide and wicked, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the bar, but even his ebullient greeting couldn’t quite hide the fact that he slurred a little on Enjolras’s name. Enjolras pursed his lips, just slightly. After the fight that they’d had, he had fully expected Grantaire to drink his cares away, but Grantaire seemed long past the point of cares.

“C’mon,” Grantaire said, patting the barstool next to him. “Sit. Drink. You’re a few behind.”

It occurred to Enjolras, as Grantaire tugged him onto the barstool next to his and slung an arm around his shoulders, that he hadn’t seen Grantaire this drunk in quite a while. Drinking, sure, even tipsy, but since the first time they’d stumbled back to Enjolras’s together, Grantaire’s drinking had never reached this level.

Which was definitely not a good sign.

Grantaire propped his chin on his hand and smiled at Enjolras. “So what’re you drinking?” he asked, his voice too loud. “Shots? You wanna do shots, Apollo?”

“No thanks,” Enjolras said, nodding to the bartender and muttering, “Water, for both of us.”

Enjolras gave him an even look. “I think you’ve probably had enough fun for the both of us,” he said firmly, pressing one of the glasses of water in Grantaire’s hand. “Drink this and then I’m taking you home. It’s been a long day.”

Grantaire snorted and rubbed a hand across his face, his smile disappearing in an instant. “It has been a long day,” he agreed, looking and sounding exhausted. “Long day, long week, long month…” He trailed off and forced a smile back on his face as he leered at Enjolras. “Long boyfriend, if you know what I mean.”

He tipped an enormous wink at him, and Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Normally the lecherous thing works for me, but not here, not now.”

The smile again slid off of Grantaire’s face. “Then what do you want, Enj?” he asked, sounding tired and upset and everything Enjolras had expected when he had gotten Bossuet’s text advising him that Grantaire seemed to be attempting to drown himself in vodka. “You want to dissect every single thing you said to me during our fight this morning? Because I already did that somewhere around drink 4. You want to ask me why I picked a fight in the first place when everything seemed to be going so well? That was the topic of conversation at drink 6. Oh, or perhaps you’d like to remind me that you expect more of me, or at the very least, you expect me to pretend like I care – oh look, I beat you to it.”

His voice had grown in volume as he had gone on, and Enjolras winced at the vitriol in his words, acutely aware that people were beginning to stare at them. “Keep your voice down,” he told Grantaire, aiming to keep his own voice calm and soothing, but Grantaire clearly wanted no part of it.

“What, are you embarrassed by your drunk, loser boyfriend?”

Grantaire practically flung the words in Enjolras’s face, and Enjolras flinched, biting back his initial instinct to contradict Grantaire. Partially because he didn’t actually think that Grantaire was a loser, but most because he knew when Grantaire was picking a fight, and the last thing he wanted was for Grantaire to twist his attempt at comfort into something it wasn’t. “The only one you’re embarrassing is yourself,” he said instead, struggling to keep his voice even and controlled. “Now you can either come home with me or I’m calling you an Uber, but I’m not doing this with you here.”

For one long moment, Grantaire just glared at him, and Enjolras shrugged, pulling out his phone so that he could order an Uber for him. Suddenly, Grantaire’s hand shot out, closing around Enjolras’s wrist, and Enjolras glanced up at him, Grantaire’s expression inscrutable. “I love you, you know,” Grantaire said, his voice still several decibels too loud, as if he didn’t care that the entire bar could still hear him. “But for the life of me, I can’t understand why you would ever love me back.”

Enjolras stared at him, completely taken aback by the words that had just come out of Grantaire’s mouth. “Are you…are you serious right now?” he asked, his voice cracking, just slightly, and when Grantaire shrugged, Enjolras twisted his wrist out of his grip so that he could reach out and take Grantaire’s hand in both of his. There were a million things he wanted to say, a million reasons he wanted to give, but instead, he did the only thing he could, and turned it back on Grantaire. “Why do you love me?”

Grantaire stared at him. “What?”

“You heard me,” Enjolras said. “You don’t understand why I love you? Well, then I want you to explain why you love me.”

“I– that’s not the same thing!” Grantaire spluttered. “You’re – you’re you!”

He gestured so emphatically at Enjolras that he almost toppled off his barstool, and Enjolras rolled his eyes as he helped right him in his seat. “And you’re going to have to do better than that.”

Grantaire just shook his head. “I don’t understand how anyone could not love you,” he told Enjolras, with the kind of honesty brought on by far too many shots of vodka. “I don’t understand how Combeferre and Courfeyrac can spend as much time with you as they have and not just fallen head over heels in love with you.”

“I imagine the amount of time they’ve spent with me is probably why they haven’t,” Enjolras murmured wryly.

But Grantaire ignored him. “You just—” He shook his head admiringly. “There is so much broken in this world, so much that it’s, it’s incomprehensible for any person to even begin to make a difference, and somehow, you do. You give every part of yourself to trying to make the world better in whatever little way you can, and you never let anything, including and especially me, stop you from trying.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “And that’s why you love me?”

“Yes.” Grantaire barked a laugh and scrubbed his free hand across his mouth. “No. I don’t know.” He dropped his hand and tilted his head to look up at Enjolras. “I love you because you make me want to be someone more than I am.”

Enjolras squeezed his hand. “And I love you because you make me better.”

Grantaire made a small note of dissent. “Be serious.”

“I am.” Enjolras pronounced the words with as much iron as he usually saved for his calls to arms. “You make me better. You make me want to be better. You ground me and remind of exactly why I do this. And you soften my rough edges and keep me from working myself to the bone on a half-brained idea that probably won’t even accomplish what I was intending anyway.”

He echoed Grantaire’s words from earlier in the day back to him, but gentler, sweeter, with a teasing lilt and no sharp bite, and when Grantaire smiled, just slightly, Enjolras smiled as well, lifting Grantaire’s hand to his mouth to press a kiss against the back of his hand. “I love you because you helped me figure out how to be whole.”

There was something unreadable but impossibly soft in Grantaire's expression as he looked at Enjolras. “I want to kiss you,” he told him.

Enjolras laughed lightly, feeling for the first time since he’d set foot in this bar like they were still them. “What are you waiting for, my permission?” he asked with a grin. 

“No,” Grantaire said, swaying just slightly in his seat as he searched Enjolras’s face before confessing, “I’m drunk and there seems to be two of you, and I’m not sure which one I’m supposed to kiss.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes affectionately before leaning in to kiss Grantaire on the forehead. “C’mon,” he said, his voice rough. “Let’s get you home before you say something else you’re going to regret in the morning.”

Grantaire let Enjolras pull him to his feet, patting automatically for his wallet. “Wait, I need to pay my tab—”

“I got it,” Enjolras told him, having slipped his credit card to the bartender almost as soon as he had sat down.

Grantaire leaned heavily against him. “You better have tipped well,” he said.

“Believe me, I did,” Enjolras muttered.

Grantaire blinked up at him. “I love you,” he repeated, as Enjolras wrapped an arm around his waist and steered him towards the exit. “And I’m not gonna regret this in the morning.” He considered it for a moment. “Well, maybe just a little.”

Enjolras just shook his head. “Well, you’ll have to call me in the morning and let me know.”

Grantaire frowned. “Why don’t you come home with me and find out for yourself?” he asked, with just a little bit of a whine in his voice. “Save me from having to make a phone call.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Enjolras told him. “Not tonight.”

“Not like that,” Grantaire said, a little impatiently. “I mean – just come home with me, Enj.” Enjolras’s resolve was already wavering when Grantaire added softly, “Please.”

Enjolras sighed. “Fine,” he said. “But if you regret it in the morning, it’s your fault, not mine.”

Grantaire gave him a bright, genuine smile. “I won’t,” he promised.

“Good,” Enjolras said, pressing a kiss to the top of Grantaire’s head. “Because given how shitty your mattress is, I might.”

[gumnut-logic]

“It’s the last house at the end of the street, Virgil.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.” It was said without the usual spark. The grey of the destroyed landscape sucked everything from everything. A pall of smoke and haze, black remnants of lives, homes and the tragedy of the night before.

International Rescue had been called to a massive bushfire in the Yarra Ranges in Victoria, Australia. The CFA had had it under control the previous day, John keeping an eye on it anyway, but an unexpected change in wind direction in the evening had it jumping firebreaks and tearing through an unprotected valley and directly through a township.

With the vast tall forests of mountain ash, eucalypts full of volatile oil just waiting to burst into flame, combined with the hot and blustery northerly, not even IR could stop the firestorm from taking lives and property.

Thunderbird Two had her fire suppression equipment, but the massive plane was a speck against the wall of flame.

There were forces of nature that just couldn’t be stopped.

The Tracys dodged and nabbed trapped people. Thunderbird Two deployed a huge water cannon, sourcing water from the local reservoir, as the CFA water bombed around them, desperate to protect what lives they could. But nothing was stopping the fire.

It tore through the town leaving agony in its wake.

Dawn was grey and dismal, but it brought rain. The sky rumbled, threatening to spark more fires in the ranges, but the deluge came and dampened the remaining flame enough to once again get the front under control.

But it was too late for the town.

It was gone.

Virgil walked the length of the street, his exo-suit rubbing on aching shoulders. Burnt out cars and collapsed homes lined the road from one end to the other. The skeletons of black trees marched off into the distance behind it all.

Haze hovered above ash-clogged puddles in the pavement.

It wasn’t what Christmas morning was supposed to be.

The last house at the end of the street had fully collapsed in on itself. A burnt-out car sat in the driveway, its trunk lid and one of its doors open.

Virgil closed his eyes for a moment, knowing what that likely meant.

He steeled himself and walked past the remains he knew he was going to find in the car.

Nothing could be done.

Nothing.

He focussed on the whine of his suit as his boots stepped in wet ash and strode across the front yard to the remains of the house. He had to clear his throat to speak to John. “Tell me where, Thunderbird Five.”

“Possibly in the basement? The lifesign is below ground level.”

The house had been old, the wooden floorboards disintegrating in the heat. Virgil leapt through the remains of a wall, landing on rubble in what had likely been a wine cellar. The heat had been so intense, that glass bottles had become slag.

Glass crunched under his boots. “Right or left?”

“Eastern side, southern corner.”

There was a mass of rubble collapsed against the only standing wall of the building.

“This is International Rescue. Can anyone hear me?”

He turned up the pickups on his exterior mikes.

Nothing. It was probably a blip. How the hell could anything survive this holocaust?

His shoulders dropped.

But then...something? A whimper?

Maybe?

Virgil began digging.

It took him a good fifteen minutes of solid work to move enough burnt masonry to reach a hole in the wall at the very base of the structure. And in what appeared to be the bottom of a dumb waiter he found the lifesign.

The little puppy whimpered at him, trembling with fear.

Aw, hell.

“John, lifesign is a dog.”

“One moment, Thunderbird Two.” The puppy stared, the green, yellow and blue of Virgil’s suit reflected in its brown eyes. “There is no dog registered at that address. Deliver to the local authorities. You are needed to airlift some survivors to Melbourne. Report to Scott on the other side of town.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Five.”

Virgil slid his arms out from the suit and bent aching knees. “Hey, little one, do you want to come with me?”

The puppy shivered and looked him up and down, hesitating.

“I’m with International Rescue, we’re here to help.” He took a step closer. “It’s okay, I promise.”

Maybe it was something in his voice, his stance, or simply because the puppy had no choice, but as Virgil reached into the box it was sitting in, the puppy made no protest as he picked it up.

A quick examination for injury revealed her to be a girl. She shuddered up against Virgil’s chest. “Don’t worry, it’s all over, you’re safe.”

Sliding one arm back into his suit, he started making his way out of the ruined building, turning his back on the tiny hole that had somehow saved the little dog’s life.

-o-o-o-

Perhaps it was because she sat so quietly with him. Perhaps because it was Christmas Day. Most likely it was because Virgil had reached his limit of pain.

When he found the RSPCA tent, specially set up for lost pets, he gently handed over the little puppy. She let out a whimper and began crying.

No barking, just this godawful crying that tore at his heart.

“You will be fine here, little one.” The attendant was one of those kindly older ladies and she hugged the gangly bundle of fluff to her chest as Virgil turned to leave, Scott in his ear.

But the puppy let out such a scream of anguish, Virgil turned around without thinking. She was struggling in the volunteer’s arms and before either of them could react, she managed to wriggle free and dash over to him, her little body trembling on his left boot.

He reached down and gathered her into his arms. “You can’t come with me. I can’t-“ But she was rubbing her head up under his chin, little sounds in her throat.

And he couldn’t.

Just couldn’t.

His eyes met the eyes of the lady volunteer and she smiled. “We will keep her details if you would like to take her with you. If anyone contacts us, we can let you know.” And the volunteer was just as hopeful as the puppy in his arms. After all, there was no life at the RSPCA unless a home was found.

He looked down at her little brown eyes again.

No, he couldn’t.

Damnit, Scott was going to kill him.

Maybe for just a few days?

The excuse provided a simple solution, so he took it.

Without a word, he handed his IR contact details to the volunteer, and, puppy in hand, turned his back to the tent and strode towards the big green hulk parked in the distant haze.

“Well, little one, you have definitely made an interesting choice. Let me introduce you to my big green partner.”

-o-o-o-

It was well past Christmas lunch, or rather the lack of it, before IR was given the all clear to return to base. During the entire time, the little puppy sat beside Virgil’s pilot chair, apparently unfazed by the deep bass rumble of Thunderbird Two.

When he picked up both Gordon and Alan the dynamic changed just a little.

Gordon dragged himself onto the flight deck first, a groan in every step. “Christmas just gets more exciting every year.” It was true. Nine out of ten Christmas Days were side-swiped by a disaster, to the point that the Tracy Christmas tradition was a modular and movable celebration nowadays. No guarantees and no defined day. It happened around December twenty-fifth, there about, when they could, between call outs.

Suddenly the little puppy was in his lap.

“What is that?”

Virgil looked up. His brother was covered in soot and looked as tired as Virgil felt. “This is Bo.” And he had no idea where the name came from, it just seemed right and the moment clicked.

“Bo?”

“Yeah.” Newly christened Bo peered up at Gordon around Virgil’s arm. “She survived the fire.” A swallow. “Her family didn’t.”

“Oh.”

Alan, as always, had more energy than any of them, and showed it as he waltzed into the cabin. “So why aren’t we moving?”

Bo let off a sharp bark.

Everyone jumped.

“What the hell, Virgil?”

Bo was literally glaring at Alan.

“Hey, Bo, calm down, that’s just Alan. He’s annoying, but tolerable.” The little puppy looked up at him, her gorgeous brown eyes just melting him inside. He was so gone.

“Hey!” That from Alan.

“Scott’s going to kill you.” That from Gordon, who was approaching slowly.

“Yeah, I know.” It was a sigh.

Gordon crouched down beside Virgil’s chair. “Hey, little one, what gave you the idea to attach yourself to this big oaf?” Pulling off one of his gloves, the aquanaut reached out and offered the puppy his hand. She eyed him warily before tentatively sniffing at his fingers.

She sneezed.

Alan snorted.

Bo blinked and stared at Gordon for a moment. The aquanaut kept still and eventually she sniffed at him again, before nuzzling at his hand. He blatantly took that as permission and gently rubbed behind her ear. “You are a cute little thing, aren’t you.”

She licked his wrist.

“Oh, I can see why our heavy lifter fell for you. You’ve got it all in those brown eyes of yours, haven’t you.” Gordon shrugged. “Though I will admit they are the best colour for manipulation.”

“And he speaks from experience.” To Virgil’s surprise, Gordon actually jumped. “Did you forget I was here? Not absorbed by those brown eyes are we?” He couldn’t help but smile at his brother. At least one was as besotted as he had to admit he was.

Yes, Scott was definitely going to kill him.

“Shut up, Virgil.”

Bo backed off, once again hiding behind Virgil’s baldric.

“Hey, Gordon, watch the tone.”

“Sorry, Bo.”

“Are we actually going home at some point? I have a date with my bed.”

Gordon stood up, pulling out the co-pilot’s seat. “No rush, Allie, she’ll wait for you.”

“Augh.”

“Sit down, Alan, I’m just finishing pre-flight.” Tired and cranky could easily become nasty if not attended to.

Bo curled up, nestled against his harness, as Alan grumpily pulled out his seat.

“Virgil, where the hell are you?”

Speaking of tired and cranky... “Launching now, Thunderbird One.” As if prompted, he received clearance from Australian Air Control.

TB2 rumbled beneath as he activated VTOL, ash and dust swirling up around them. As soon as he had enough height, he engaged her rear thrusters and tore off over the Alps, across the coast and out into the Tasman.

“ETA fifteen minutes.” At least they weren’t too far from home.

Bo fell asleep in his lap.

-o-o-o-

Virgil was on the verge of joining Bo in slumber as Thunderbird Two spun slowly in her hanger, eventually coming to a final stop.

So tired.

Beside him, Alan poked Gordon awake. “Ugh, what? Oh.” You could almost hear his brain booting.

Virgil worked around Bo as he did his post-flight checks, his brothers, well, mostly Gordon, groaning as they got to their feet and waddled towards the hatch. “C’mon, Virg, Alan’s pining for his bed.”

“You two go ahead. I just need to finish post-flight.” He didn’t turn around, but he could feel Gordon’s eyes on him.

“Sure, whatever.” And he heard the hatch lower to the hangar floor.

His brothers gone, Virgil let himself relax back against his chair, his shoulders sagging. He let out a long breath. “So, Bo, how are we going to do this?”

The puppy woke as if on command and turned to stare up at him. Gently her tail began to wag.

Virgil let a tired smile cross his face.

Encouraged, Bo jumped up and put her two front paws on his chest, reaching up, trying to lick his face despite not quite being tall enough.

The smile became a grin.

“Okay, okay.” He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up as he pushed his seat backwards and stood. Immediately he was bathed in puppy drool. He couldn’t help but laugh. He surfaced above her licking and cradled her in his arms. “We need to get you some food.” His stomach rumbled ominously. “We need to get me some food.”

And a shower. A shower definitely wouldn’t hurt.

If he could hold off the sleep.

If he didn’t call it a stagger, it wasn’t a stagger, but he had obviously been sitting in his seat for far too long ferrying all those survivors to Melbourne on repeated trips. It was his turn to groan as both his back and legs complained loudly at the sudden demands for movement.

Bo started chewing on his glove.

Somehow he made it back to his rooms without encountering anyone. Shutting the door, he let Bo loose on the floor and began stripping off his uniform, hitting the buttons on his preprogrammed shower cubicle. Moments later he walked under the spray and let it wash the day from his skin.

God, that felt good.

As his muscles relaxed under the heat, sleep became more and more attractive, and by the time he stumbled out of the water, all thoughts of food had vanished.

He took the three steps across his room from the ensuite and threw himself facedown on the bed, still partly wet, still naked.

He was asleep within moments.

-o-o-o-

He was being kissed.

Her lips were warm, her tongue wet, her whiskers soft against his stubble...

Uh?

She licked his eye.

Wha-?

Virgil, always slow to respond upon waking, opened said eye only to get an eyeful of slobber. A soft paw thwapped him on the cheek. Huh? he blinked attempting to clear his eyesight, a hand coming up to defend himself.

Fortunately, his brain came online and memory kicked in. “B-Bo?”

A tongue wrapped around his nose and left it wet.

Ugh.

He wiped his face with his hand, stretching backwards on his pillow, desperate to get out of reach.

The puppy landed on his chest, her paws kneading his chest hair, her little claws completing his wake-up process rather abruptly.

Oh god.

“Bo, down, honey, down.”

He was completely ignored.

Sitting up, he attempted to grab her in his arms, but missed. The little puppy landed on things that puppies had no right to land on. Or stomp on for that matter.

He winced.

“Ooh, okay, come here.” He lifted her off his lap, holding her close, her tail pummelling his belly. “I’m awake, okay.” Again he found himself pinned by her brown eyes. “Aww, c’mon with the cute, Bo, you’re going to melt my brain.”

“Assuming you have a brain to melt.” And Scott was standing in his doorway.

Virgil glared up at him. “Don’t you knock?”

“I did. Grandma sent me to tell you that Christmas dinner is ready.”

Virgil frowned at his brother over the top of Bo’s ears, ignoring the glare the blue eyes were directing at the puppy in his arms. “I thought we’d do Christmas tomorrow.”

“We don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow. Grandma thought it would be best to sneak it in tonight, since it is Christmas Day, after all.” Scott’s lips thinned. “Where did you get that from?”

“She’s a rescue.”

“Usually we leave our rescues on the continent we find them.”

“She had no one.”

“Unfortunately, that is nothing new.” And one of his hands had moved to his hip.

Virgil sighed. “Scott, it’s fine, it’s only for a few days.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

Virgil held back his retort. He knew to pick his fights and now was not the time. “Her name is Bo.”

Scott looked at him and then at Bo. “Hurry up, your dinner is getting cold.” The ghost of a smirk. “And don’t forget to wear clothes.”

“Funny, funny, ha, ha.” But his brother had left.

Virgil let his shoulders drop. “Sorry, Bo, I think you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Bo just licked him some more.

It wasn’t until he went looking for his boots that he discovered the wonderful deposits Bo had left for him on the floor.

Ugh.

And apparently one of his favourite boots had served as a meal also.

He closed his eyes and sighed again.

Half dressed, he cleaned up the mess, and five minutes later he waltzed downstairs, Bo in his arms and barefoot. Time to face the inevitable music.

-o-o-o-

A Tracy Christmas used to be snow, roast turkey, stockings by the fire, the occasional Christmas carol and family.

Since starting International Rescue it had changed.

Firstly, they were in the tropics. The only fires available in those temperatures were ones that required firefighting equipment. Having grown up with snow, it was still extremely weird. But it had its advantages. For one you could go outside in the minimum of clothing, something Gordon took advantage of every day of the year. There were no snowball fights, but these were fast replaced with water fights. There was no ice skating, but there was water skiing if anyone could get up the energy to get the boat out. And surfing, let’s not forget Scott’s attempts at that. Virgil would admit that he didn’t mind a little surfboard action himself. He wouldn’t say he was very good at it, but at least Gordon had never had to save him like he had Scott.

There were still Christmas trees and tinsel and stockings that no-one ever considered wearing hung from the nearest mantelpiece-looking piece of furniture.

There was still turkey and roast potatoes and all the yummy food crucial for a good Christmas meal, but it was often cooked outside in barbecue ovens and seafood and cold food had been added to the menu. In fact, the traditional dinner had become more of a banquet by the pool.

As Virgil walked out onto the patio, he couldn’t help but smile at the Christmas tree that had obviously been hurriedly moved out here from the comms room. It sat a little lopsided and the star on top was having a few issues with gravity. That was new, as was the liberal tinsel and Christmas lights strung from palm tree to palm tree, across the pool and back several times.

“Fifty bucks says Gordon tries to water volleyball the tinsel at least once.”

Virgil smirked as he stepped up beside his next youngest brother. “Not touching that one. I value my money.”

John was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and had a beer in his hand. Bo was immediately interested in this new person. She strained towards John, her nose literally twitching towards the hand holding the beer.

His brother must have caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and instinctively took a step away.

“Oh, sorry, John, this is Bo.” Bo was climbing over his arm, desperate to get closer to the astronaut. Virgil held her tight, worried she would fall.

“Uh, hello.” John turned towards them, frowning. “Since when do you own a dog?”

“Since this morning.”

“Does Scott know?” They both instinctively looked over at their eldest brother who was hovering over one of the barbecues energetically discussing something with Grandma - probably how not to burn the food.

“He does.”

“And you still have it?”

“Her.”

“Her.”

“Yes.”

“Good luck with that one.” John drank his beer.

“She had no one else.”

John arched an eyebrow at him and then frowned. “Oh, Virgil.” His shoulders slumped.

“I am an adult now, John. It won’t be like last time.”

“God, I hope not.”

Virgil stared at his brother, only to see the genuine concern in his green eyes. A sigh. “It won’t happen again.”

John reached out and gently touched his shoulder. “No, it won’t, because you will remember that you have four brothers who are all here for you, won’t you.” God, that green gaze was penetrating.

“It will be fine.”

Bo yipped at John, her tail beating Virgil’s chest.

The astronaut smiled and offered the little dog his hand. She sniffed and licked him almost immediately.

“I think you have been approved.”

John smiled and Virgil couldn’t help but do the same.

“Virgil!” And Grandma was arrowing in on his position.

“Incoming.” John was smirking.

“Hey, Grandma.”

But his grandmother only had eyes for Bo. “Who is this?”

Virgil smiled again. “This is Bo. Bo, this is Grandma.”

Bo whacked him with her tail and literally leapt from his arms into his grandmother’s.

“Woah.” Suddenly with arms full of wriggling puppy enthusiastically licking her face, his grandmother was laughing. “Oh dear, you are a cutie. Let me have a look at you.” And she held Bo out at arms length, her eyes critical. “A little hard to tell at her age, but my bet says she’s of boxer stock, around three months old. Such a beautiful brindle and that face.” Virgil couldn’t help but agree. Bo looked like she had dipped her face in a pot of ink, her brown eyes surrounded by gorgeous black coat that quickly bled to brindle down her back with a spot of white on her front. “Where did you find her?”

Virgil looked at his feet, remembered why they were bare, and looked back up at his grandmother. “This morning’s rescue. She lost everything.”

Grandma turned her attention back to Bo. “Oh, honey. You survived the fire?” Bo licked her nose. “Well, you are safe here.” Grandma curled her arms around the puppy and scratched her ears. “Has Virgil fed you anything yet?” She glanced at him and he shrugged. He got frowned at for his trouble. Grandma turned away, walking towards the barbecues with Bo in her arms. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Well, that didn’t take long, did it?” John was still smirking at him.

A series of barks and a yelp from Grandma, and suddenly Bo was dashing amongst legs in his direction. “Woah.” He crouched down and caught her as she leapt for him. She wriggled and licked, her little body trembling under his hands. “Hey, hey, honey, it’s okay, you’re safe.” She snuggled up under his chin. He couldn’t help but return the hug.

Grandma approached, worry on her face. “I’m sorry, Virgil, I didn’t realise.”

“It’s okay.” He reached an arm around his grandmother, bringing her into the hug. “She’s just had a scary day.” He pulled both of them close.

Scott was glaring at him from a distance.

John smiled at them and drank his beer.

Bo started chewing on his collar.

-o-o-o-

As the evening progressed, Bo slowly let herself part from Virgil as each of the members of his family, bar Alan and Scott, came to say hello or fed her from the table. There was one interesting moment when the little puppy encountered Sherbert for the first time.

Bo yipped.

Sherbert yapped.

And as the entire party fell silent, the two dogs stared each other down.

Virgil was poised for a rescue and Penelope was not far behind him, but a moment later Bo licked Sherbert across the nose, Sherbert gently butted the little puppy with his head, and from that point onwards they were best of friends, Sherbert quite proudly showing his new friend around.

But never out of sight of Virgil.

Bo and Parker had a staring moment not long after, but Sherbert barrelled on in and head butted the driver, snapping him out of it. It wasn’t long before the little puppy had him rubbing her ears as well.

Kayo stood her distance, assessing Bo as much as the puppy was assessing her. A calm arched eyebrow slowly rose as Bo tilted her head up at the security specialist. She pressed her lips together and faced Virgil. “There will be training.”

Virgil blinked and his sister turned and stalked off. Bo eyed her the entire time, only finally distracted by a yelp from Alan as Gordon threw him in the pool.

The engineer was left wondering if he should be worried or not.

The meal was delicious, of course. Scott had managed to keep Grandma away from the barbecues and MAX had been on task for a good part of the day. There was the mandatory turkey, and this year a couple of large snapper had been baked to perfection, along with some crayfish, oysters, salads and roast vegetables. This was followed by pie, oh, so much pie, Christmas cookies, and Christmas pudding with custard and the option of ice cream.

Virgil, as usual, made sure he took advantage of all the options. Consequently, post-banquet found him sprawled on a pool lounger staring up at the stars amongst the tinsel overhead. Bo, who had also eaten probably more than she should have, was curled up between his feet.

The soft sounds of quiet carols and muted conversation wafting across the water lulled him gently to sleep.

-o-o-o-

Scott felt like Scrooge. He was tired, worried and even a little angry. He was not enjoying himself, no matter how hard he tried. Grandma had cornered him at least twice, her hand on his shoulder trying to soothe his ire.

The annoying thing was that he wasn’t even sure what he was angry about. The rescue hadn’t been the best, but they had done what they could and some lives had been saved that otherwise wouldn’t have. The team had performed well, no one had been injured, they were all back home safe and sound.

And there was food, family and Christmas. There wasn’t really much more he could ask for.

His eyes settled on Virgil, asleep on one of the loungers, oblivious to the tinsel being draped across his hair by Gordon behind him.

Scott sighed.

But then a little head bobbed up between his brother’s bare feet and Bo barked at Gordon quite firmly.

Virgil was obviously far too out of it to wake, but Gordon looked appropriately abashed at the challenge.

Scott found himself smiling.

Realised he was smiling, dumped the smile and frowned.

Gordon scampered off leaving a sleeping Virgil in a crown of silver tinsel.

The little dog leapt off the lounger and chased after the aquanaut.

Okay, he had to admit the dog was adorable. He could see what had captured his brother’s eye, and Scott certainly had no objection to adding to their family.

But Virgil...when Virgil loved, he loved with his whole heart, and last time he had lost a pet, it had been bad, so bad.

They had lost so much in their lives already, why volunteer to lose more?

He sighed. It was stupid to think that way, but part of him could remember that devastated teenager, the depression and the mess that followed. Virgil had been as broken as the rest of them when their mother died, but when his dog died two years later, his reaction had been so self-destructive he had needed counselling and a therapist. Scott didn’t know if the two incidents were related or if it was how his brother connected to pets, or whatever. He only knew he never wanted to see his brother go through that again.

Their father was missing, and here was Virgil with a pet once again.

Sure, he was an adult now, and had tackled so much loss since, but...

Another sigh.

A yip and he looked down to see said dog staring up at him with a mouth full of tinsel, tail wagging.

“Gordon!”

“Yesssss, masster?” His brother sidled up with a bow.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Did you want to face your brother having to tell him that his new puppy died choking on tinsel?”

“Oh, shit.”

“Exactly.”

The aquanaut scooped up the little dog and with gentle words extricated the tinsel from her mouth.

A moment later Gordon held her up to his cheek and Scott had the experience of two sets of brown eyes staring at him adoration.

“Oh, for the love of-“

“A puppy?” Gordon grinned at him. “She is a rather cute, isn’t she?”

“Leave it, Gordon.”

His brother frowned. “What’s chewing on your underwear?”

“Gordon-“

“Hey, it was a legit question, bro. You’re a grumpy ass on Christmas Day. Where’s the merry? We have food and there will be presents. And there is a puppy. You couldn’t ask for more cuteness.” Gordon held up Bo who attempted to lick Scott’s nose.

“Gordon-‘

“Nope, so not going down with you, bro. We’ve earned some happy. We’re all here, in one piece, it’s lovely weather. Cheer up, for goodness sake.” Despite himself, Gordon frowned. “Here have some puppy love.” And suddenly Scott found himself with his arms full of wriggling Bo. Gordon turned and walked off, eventually calling out to Alan, no doubt looking for mischief.

Bo tilted her head to one side and stared up at him.

Aw, hell, weaponised cuteness.

She jumped up and licked his nose.

Scott sighed.

Voice low. “You know, you better look after my brother. He’s a good man and he does a lot of good things.” A swallow. “He’s a little prone to heroics. Perhaps we can team up in that department and help keep his butt alive.”

Her tongue lolled out one side of her mouth and she grinned.

“Maybe try that on the Hood and solve all our problems.”

He gave in and drew her close to his chest, rubbing under her chin.

“I really hope we don’t regret this.”

-o-o-o-

“PRESENTS!”

Alan’s voice cut through his slumber and shook him awake. Wha-?

“Time to wake up, sleepy head.” Scott’s voice.

A sharp little bark.

Bo.

He flung his eyes open, and immediately squinted at the fairy lights floating in the light breeze far above. A blink and to his left a shadow formed into his eldest brother. His blue eyes were smiling as he sat on the next lounge over, holding Bo, scratching her gently. She was obviously enjoying it.

Virgil frowned. “I thought you were pissed at me.”

“I was.” His brother shrugged. “I got over it.” Bo was licking Scott’s fingers.

Wow, the ability to tame the savage big brother. The little girl must be heaven-sent.

There was a whir of wheels and MAX tore out onto the patio decked out in tinsel and lugging brightly coloured presents. MiniMAX darted in behind him carrying a smaller present which was deposited carefully on the table before he disappeared inside only to return with another.

“You okay?”

“Huh?” Virgil peered up at his brother before stretching the length of the lounger. Several joints cracked and the ache across his shoulders from the morning vaguely made its presence known. A yawn. “I’m fine. Just tired. This morning sucked.”

Tinsel slid down his face. He sighed and threw it off. Gordon was getting repetitive.

Scott dipped his head, attempting to hide a smile, and looked down at Bo. “True.” He scratched her under her chin one more time before offering her to him. “Here.”

Bo didn’t bother to wait for him to sit up, she bounded out of Scott’s arms and onto Virgil’s belly. “Oof.” She then danced up and down on it.

Scott grinned at him. “She’s not going to be little when she grows up.”

“Augh, she’s not little now.” He managed to capture her enough so he could sit up, but she struggled free excitedly and dashed from his arms, jumping on the lounger, just as MiniMAX buzzed over with a small present.

Bo barked at him and MiniMAX dodged to deposit the present in Virgil’s lap. He caught it, but with his hands now occupied, he wasn’t fast enough to grab Bo before she let off another bark, jumped excitedly and latched her teeth onto the little robot.

The result was immediate.

MiniMAX shrieked, several of his legs caught in the puppy’s mouth, and with a whir of rotor blades, took off madly across the patio.

With Bo hanging on.

“Bo!” Virgil dropped the present and made a grab for the pair, but missed.

Every eye turned to see what the commotion was about. Virgil stumbled over the lounger and kicked it out of the way. He was vaguely aware of Scott doing something similar. “Brains!”

MiniMAX was obviously panicking. The little robot darted about trying to shake off his assailant. Bo was whining in her throat.

Virgil dashed after them.

Despite the puppy’s weight, MiniMAX still managed a great deal of height, Brains’ ‘build ‘em tough’ policy obviously carrying through to his robots. Despite having the strength to carry the puppy, the off-balance mass hampered MiniMAX’s navigation and they were wobbling all over the place.

All Virgil could see was a tragedy in the making. The pool, the concrete, anything horribly solid. He ran beneath them, desperately attempting to reach the now whining puppy. Family members and furniture were dodged and shoved out of the way as he clambered after them.

A chair ended up in the pool. Gordon squawked and almost joined it. Virgil leapt off an empty lounge, made a grab for them, missed and ended up in the Christmas tree.

Fake pine needles jabbed him in the face as he went down in a pile of tinsel and Christmas baubles. He swore, his clothing caught, his hair caught, and his everything tangled in tinsel, but he made it to his feet just in time to see Bo let go.

“No!”

Oblivious to everything other than the puppy falling, Virgil finally got traction under his bare feet, took a running leap and grabbed Bo from the air. He instinctively wrapped himself around her, rolling in midair, tinsel and baubles flung in all directions.

As he plummeted into the pool.

The splash took his senses, muffling exclamations, and repeated shouts of his name. There was dark blue, and wet, and, for a moment, blessed silence.

Then logic reasserted itself and he kicked for the surface.

Sound, light and cool air on his skin. He blinked water out of his eyes as he lifted Bo up so she could breathe, his legs kicking to keep them afloat.

She whined at him as if to tell him off, sneezed, and began enthusiastically licking the saltwater off his face.

He couldn’t help but grin, and he knew he wasn’t the only one as laughter drifted across the water.

“You trashed the tree, Virg.”

“I don’t think he cares, Gordon.” He looked up to see Grandma smiling at him.

And no, he didn’t. As Scott poked him with a pole to help drag him to the edge and Bo decided his ear might do for her next meal, he suddenly felt joy. It could simply have been relief, but he was going to tack it up as Christmas joy and enjoy it while he could.

-o-o-o-

“Only you, Virgil.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

“I have no doubt of that, it never is.”

“Aw, c’mon, Scott.”

“If it was intentional then I would have to accuse you of doing it deliberately just to get out of helping with the Christmas dishes.”

“We have a dishwasher.” Bo let off a bark as MiniMAX flew past dragging a bag full of recyclable cups, plates and cutlery, giving Virgil and his dog an extremely wide berth. “And there are hardly any dishes.”

“You are still getting out of clean up.”

“C’mon, Scott, you know me better than that. Ow!”

“Sit still. I’ve almost got all of it.”

Virgil leant back against the lounge, Bo curled up in his lap. “I’m not particularly happy about this either you know.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I know that, Ow!”

“Well, if you would watch where you were going, you wouldn’t have collided with the Christmas tree. And what’s with the bare feet anyway?”

“Bo ate one of my boots.”

Scott snorted and pulled out yet another tiny piece of glass Christmas bauble from the bottom of Virgil’s left foot. “She hasn’t been here twenty-four hours yet and she has already caused havoc.”

“She’s a puppy.”

“I noticed.” Scott sighed, peering through his magnifying visor at his brother’s foot. “I think that’s all of it. Please don’t do that again. You’ll be limping for a week.”

“I’m not planning on it.”

As Scott wrapped his foot in gauze, he eyed the puppy on Virgil’s lap. “And you, young lady, I thought we had a deal.”

To Virgil’s surprise, Bo’s head bobbed up and she looked distinctly guilty.

Scott arched an eyebrow. “Hmm, don’t let it happen again.”

Bo yapped at him.

Virgil stared at both of them. “What?”

“None of your business, you just lay back and look after yourself.” And Scott was smirking.

Ooookaay.

He relaxed back against the lounge and stared up at the fairy lights above.

Bo stomped up the length of him and licked his eyeball.

He coughed up a laugh and grabbed an armful of wriggly puppy.

“I think that was a Merry Christmas, Virg.” Scott held his injured foot and grinned. “Merry Christmas.”

-o-o-o-

[onceuponalegendbg]

It was only a matter of time before I succumbed to the need to write for these two.

[wlw-stanbot]

Time continued to pass both slowly and quickly for the new lovers. Lazy hands barely brushing damp skin turned into more fervent motions that ended in sore throats and bodies, then back again to slow breathed snuggles. The cycle continued to repeat as they dozed, and fucked, and worshiped each other for an unknown amount of time. Eventually, the pattern was broken by hunger.

Kate threw a frozen pizza in the oven to make the break in pattern as short as possible. Yelena took the chance to jump in the much nicer shower hiding in the basement behind the spiral staircase. Chef Kate couldn’t resist joining, of course. Their dance together under the power of multiple showerheads went much better than the first one over a week ago.

The pizza almost burned as freshly cleaned hands helped Kate guide Yelena through another orgasm with her back pressed into the finely laid tile of a glass doored shower and one leg hooked around Kate’s waist.

Getting fucked into mindlessness by Yelena’s strap was one of the best feelings Kate had ever experienced, but the way the blonde’s body submitted to her had started to unlock another addiction. The uncontrollable moans, the twitching, squeezing muscles that surrounded her hands and the dark eyes that pinched and plead for release filled her whole being to such an extent that she felt like she would never be able to be rid of them, no matter how many miles eventually ended up between the two.

They didn’t talk about the elephant of Kate having to go back to NYC in a few weeks, but conversation over a single plate of stuffed crust supreme, half covered in hot sauce -  Yelena’s favorite, of course - eventually led to Kate being able to broach the subject of what she had originally wanted to ask for…before their attentions turned to seeking as much pleasure in each other as possible.

Yelena’s teasing voice reached over the empty plate between them, “So, full report, did I give you what you needed, Kate Bishop?”

Kate laughed sarcastically, “I don’t know if I exactly needed that many orgasms but, it was pretty good.”

“Um, that was more than pretty good. How dare you?” Yelena leaned over the plate, menacing Kate with a look of faux shock.

Kate laughed deeply as she moved the plate from between them and replaced it with her own body, “Ok, ok, you’re as great a lover as you are a killer, maybe better.” She nuzzled into Yelena’s shoulder, sending them both back into a near prone position propped up on thick, down feather stuffed pillows.

Yelena grinned softly then placed a firm chin on the top of Kate’s head, “I’m glad I didn’t kill you.”

Kate shifted her head to look upward, forcing Yelena’s chin to drop. Her ardent blue met the playfulness of Yelena’s green with more serious intent, “I’m glad I didn’t kill you .”

“Like you could have.” Yelena didn’t bother trying to hide the roll of her eyes.

Chapter 16 is up. It's cute!

[dancingkirby]

Firebirdshipping tooth-rotting fluff fic is posted!

SUMMARY: Accompanying Aki on a trip to the most exclusive shopping district in Neo Domino was not on Crow's schedule for today, but he decides to make the best of it and both of them end up having a blast.

WARNINGS: None! Except for food/eating; they do have a little snack.

[leviscolwill]

i'm currently working on a jude x driver reader req that should be out before the singapore gp (my official deadline)

[ailithnight]

OP gave permission to continue and I want to practice some fluff before I try to go back to the next part of A King in Arkham again. So enjoy!

Several hours and a few bruises later saw Dick finally making his way up to Danny's apartment. (Not their apartment. Not yet, not with the secrets Dick has been keeping, or thought he had been keeping? How long…) Not, as it turns out, through the window. Nor in his Nightwing suit. Despite the temptation, if only to get up there faster.

But Bruce had drilled it into him, into all of them, never confirm or admit until the evidence is irrefutable. And just because Danny knew about the comm line, knew who would be on the other end, called Tim baby bird, called Dick hero in that light and loving way. Just because all signs pointed to Danny knowing, until he spelled it out, Dick would operate under standard protocol. And standard protocol dictated Dick be a civilian right now.

So he was. Dressed back in his date night outfit and walking up the stairs to Danny's apartment. Entering through the door with the key his boyfriend gave him several months ago. Slipping in quietly but not Bat silently.

Danny was dozing on the sofa. Dressed down in a t-shirt and boxers and one of Dick's hoodies draped over his lithe frame. And since Dick knew, since Danny had told him he didn't get cold and in fact preferred cooler temperatures, Dick knew the only reason Danny was wearing it was for comfort. Because it was his.

And Danny was still sleeping. He was such a light sleeper. 'Old habit,' he'd said once, 'my house wasn't the safest growing up. Always had to sleep light so I could react to danger.' Danny hadn't told Dick more than that. He didn't like talking about his life before Gotham. And Dick didn't pry. Couldn't make himself pry. Not when he was keeping his own secrets. Or thought he had been keeping secrets.

Danny used to bolt up and into a defensive position at the slightest sound. A footstep, the rustle of clothes, a sigh. Dick remembers the first time Danny had slept through Dick coming in, just after a Scarecrow attack during finals last week. Just like now, Danny had been dozing on the sofa when Dick came in, and he hadn't even stirred.

Dick had been worried then, since it was so out of character. Concerned Danny had gotten sick, or worse, caught up in the Scarecrow attack. But when he'd shook Danny awake, his boyfriend had come to so calmly, so peacefully. All sleep drunk and bleary, he'd slurred out a confused, 'Dick? Wazzup?' And when Dick had explained his concerned, Danny had just pulled him down into the cushions to cuddle. 'M' fine. Tired. Finals. And you're safe. Don need to worry. Don need to wake up when is you.'

That moment, and every moment since when Danny has slept through Dick's disturbance, filled Dick with so much care and adoration. To be trusted so deeply, so intrinsically. Even now, looking down at his boyfriend dozing peacefully makes Dick's heart swell with warmth and love despite the anxiety still gnawing at his mind. He considers letting Danny sleep, maybe taking him to his bed so he can sleep comfortably, and getting his answers in the morning. But clearly Danny has other plans.

With a snort and a huff, he opens his eyes, blinking up at Dick for a moment before comprehension filters back in. Then he smiles that small soft smile that Dick adores. "Hey hero." He reaches out and grabs Dick's hand, kissing his fingers like earlier before sitting up with a huff. "This is clearly a Triple C Conversation."

"Triple C?"

"Comfort, Cocoa, Cuddles." Dick can't help but smile, bemused. Danny pushes himself off the sofa and heads for the kitchen. "So go on. You know where your spare pjs are. Feel free to take a shower if you didn't before." Danny's tone leaves no room for argument. Not that Dick really feels like arguing it. His Bat paranoia can suck one right now, Danny is right. This is definitely about to be a Triple C Conversation. So while Danny goes to put a pot on the stove for some hot chocolate, Dick heads back into the bedroom. Though not before stopping Danny, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

"Okay. Triple C then. I'll be back out in a few minutes." Dick could easily rush to get changed and back out there in 30 seconds flat. But, but he doesn't need to. Not here. Not with Danny. The vigilante life has a way of speeding you up up up. Gotta be faster, stronger, better. So much to do, so many people to help, to protect. It's hard to stop, to slow down and take care of yourself and live. But Danny helps. Just being near Danny helps him slow down. Breathe. Rest. Live.

So Dick slows down. He takes his time shuffling around the bedroom. Finding his spare clothes in their dedicated drawer in Danny's dresser. Picking out exactly which pieces to mix and match for maximum comfort. Then pulling on Danny's oversized hoodie that Dick knows he got specifically so that he would have one big enough for Dick to "borrow" the same way he is out there swamped in one of Dick's right now.

Dick melts into the comfort, beating back the Bat in his brain with a metaphorical broom to relax. Because this is Danny. And maybe he knows. And maybe that's terrifying because that's not just his secret. It his brothers' and his sisters' and his best friends' and his Dad's. It's Dick's whole family at risk if Danny knows and decides to do something bad with that information.

But it's Danny.

Who laughs at Dick's puns and puns back to make him laugh. Who rambles about space as long as you let him. Who fixes appliances for next to nothing for his neighbors just because he can. Who talks to even the littlest kids like they're equals and walks them through the scary places if only so they don't have to be alone.

This is Danny.

Who never questioned or expressed dissatisfaction with Dick's flaking and excuses. Who apparently already knew and didn't do anything about it except reassure Dick that he wouldn't be mad and he'd be waiting for him after to talk. Who's making hot chocolate right now undoubtedly by Alfred's recipe to make this talk as comfortable as possible. Who wakes up at the drop of a hat but sleeps through Dick's arrival because he does trusts him so intrinsically. Why should 't Dick at least try to offer him the same trust in return? Dick can trust Danny right now. Chooses to trust Danny right now.

Dick breathes in that fascinating icy electric citrusy sweet smell that is so distinctly Danny. He has often wondered just what it is Danny uses that makes him and everything of his smell like that. And he makes himself, lets himself, relax into the comfort as he wanders back out the living room and sinks into Danny's small but well loved little couch. Danny comes back out of the kitchen with 2 mugs piled high with whipped cream and grated chocolate. One goes in Dick's hand, spreading a perfect warmth through his palm. The other goes on the coffee table.

Danny stands for a moment, fidgeting slightly, before Dick realizes what he doesn't know if he should ask for and lifts his arm out. He immediately curls in to Dick's side with a contented sigh. He leans forward just enough to grab his own cocoa and then sinks back into the cuddle. Dick takes a sip of his cocoa, pausing just long enough to dismiss the idea that Danny could have poisoned it while he was getting changed. For a few minutes, they just sit there, basking in each other's company and Danny's Triple C's. Part of Dick never wants this moment to end.

Then Danny hums. His mug, now half empty, goes back onto the table and he starts playing with Dick's free hand. "You need an explanation." Dick can't hold in the sigh.

"It would… ease a lot of minds, Danny."

"Yeah… You deserve to know. And I've been meaning to have this talk with you for a while. I just… didn't know how to start it I guess."

A while. Once again Dick's mind jumps to the question, and now he can ask it, "How long…?"

"Remember our 6th date?"

Dick almost bluescreens. If he were anyone but a bat, he would have. Their sixth date was over 8 months ago. Dick hums in acknowledgement, taking another sip of his warm cocoa. He remembers, but he'll let Danny continue and recount it from his perspective.

"It was the Friday before midterms. I was working on a project in the engineering shop that I wanted to get done early so I could focus studying for other tests."

"You didn't want to take the time to leave campus, so I came to you with dinner."

"Mm. You brought a veritable feast from that Korean Barbecue place in the Alley."

"That you were ridiculously willing to risk getting shanked walking through once a week for that Korean Barbecue." It's an old rib. Something he teases Danny for every time the topic comes up. Danny gave him one of his cute little glare pouts.

"It's good food! Jason gets it!" Danny's dramatized offense will never cease to make Dick feel like he's floating.

"Jason is Alley. You're a transplant. It's different." The familiar banter was almost enough to forget the weight of the conversation.

"Hush you. Anyway, you came to me. And decided to break into the engineering building, one of the most locked and monitored buildings on campus so Rogues don't use it for nefarious purposes, instead of texting me when you got there. Y'know if you'd gotten caught, we both would have been in deep shit for it."

"I wouldn't have gotten caught and you know it." Dick laughed. Danny rolled his eyes.

"Sure, I know that now. Obviously you - Nightwing - wouldn't get caught by some measly school security," Dick's breath just barely stutters at the casual admission that Danny really does know. Instinctually his eyes dart around the room making sure no one else is present to overhear. There isn't, of course. Danny's apartment is one of the most secure in the city that doesn't belong directly to a Bat. Dick has made sure of it. Even his family have added their own measures. Dick was touched that they cared so much about his boyfriend. Of course he's done the same for his own sibling's partners.

Danny doesn't seem to notice his reaction, but then who else but a Bat even would? Danny just plows on. "But at the time I wouldn't know just how skilled you are at not getting caught for a few more hours."

"How- I mean why- What made you conclude I was Nightwing?" Follow protocol. Don't confirm it until the evidence is irrefutable. Danny looks at him, staring with a furrowed brow in some sort of puzzlement. Which, fair, Dick is not usually one to stumble of words. He was trained better than that.

"After I made you sneak back out of the engineering building, I met you outside. We ate at one of the tables around the Quad. As we were finishing, your watch buzzed. I thought it was some kind of alarm. You ignored it. Then you got a text and made an excuse to leave. I went back inside to continue working on my project. Half an hour later, the whole campus goes on lock-down. Freeze is there. And low and behold, is apparently interested in whatever tech he thinks he can find in the engineering shop. And who should come to my rescue but the daring, dashing Nightwing, in all the way from Bludhaven for no discernible reason." As Danny finishes the story, his expression shifts from confusion to his signature soft grin.

Dick… doesn't understand. Danny is so confident that he's Nightwing. He's right, but still. "You realize that's completely circumstantial, right? There's no actual evidence or anything to really indicate I'm Nightwing there."

"Would you believe me if I said the butts matched?"

Dick doesn't bother suppressing the huffed laugh. Not with Danny. He leans down and plants a kiss at the cuff of his ear, breathing in that Danny scent again wafting from his soft locks, then murmurs into his ear. "No I don't think I will."

Danny almost giggles, then… sighs. It's the sigh he sighs whenever someone asks him about his life before Gotham or the scars across his body or his cold hands or the slight shine in his eyes. It's the world weary sigh of someone who has experienced something terrible and thought they were past it only to be reminded every time they turn around. Dick hates that sigh. Would turn back time and change the past if he could, even if it meant never meeting Danny, if it meant Danny never had to experience what makes him sigh like that in the first place.

"No evidence that anyone else would believe. No clues that anyone but… someone like me could see."

"You mean your meta abilities?" Danny snorts at that. Dick has never so directly said that he knows Danny is a meta, but Danny isn't surprised that Dick knows. Which itself isn't surprising sonce Danny knows he's Nightwing and therefore a Bat and therefore a detective. The snort is unexpected though. The next words out of his mouth even more so.

"Apparently you're not a meta if you're dead." At that, Dick does bluescreen. All thoughts screech to a stop and his whole body locks into a tense freeze. Danny is immediately pulling out of the cuddle they've.been lounging in, but only to wave his arms frantically before taking Dick's almost empty mug, placing it on the coffee table, and settling his hands on Dick's shoulders. "No no no. Shit, I didn't mean to say it like that. It's not how it sounds, Dick, I promise. Please just breathe."

Oh, had his lungs frozen with the rest of him? They must have. Which isn't a big deal really. It's only been like 13 seconds and Dick is trained to be able to hold his breath without warning for at least 2 minutes. Still, for Danny's sake, he forces himself to take in a deep breath then blow it out slowly, then resume normal breathing. Danny calms down quickly now that Dick is breathing again. Dick needs to ask, but doesn't know what exactly he's asking so he settles for a flat, "What?" Danny watches him warily, worriedly.

"It's just, legal technicalities. What I am, or part of what I am really, the government used a loophole in the Meta Protections Acts to exclude us specifically by labeling us as non-sapient."

"And what are you part of that the government has done this to?" Danny settles back into the cuddle and Dick is unashamed to say you clings to him. Triple C Conversation indeed. Dick will have to hold on to that for future use coercing his family into difficult talks.

"Dead." Sheer force of will keeps Dick from freezing this time. "Or technically part ecto-entity. But the kind of ecto-entity I am forms when ectoplasm binds to the soul of a dead person. Colloquially known as ghost. But again! Not as bad as it sounds. Cause I'm still alive, see." Danny places one of Dick's hands under his hoodie and over his heart, and the other at his neck. Dick feels his heartbeat under his fingertips, light and frantic; but slowing back down now to a strong steady, steady, calm pace.

"There was an accident. I'll tell you the full story later, the important part right now is that I died. And as I was dying, I was being exposed to a really high concentration of ectoplasm. So the ectoplasm was binding to my soul before my soul was fully disconnected from my body. And I was 14. I didn't want to die. And the cool thing about ectoplasm is that's it's really… malleable I guess? If it's your ectoplasm, which it was as soon as it bonded to me, you basically think what you want and if you have enough ectoplasm and energy, it does it. And all I had at the time was ectoplasm and energy." Danny shuddered under Dick's hand. Danny doesn't get cold. But he seems like he needs a warm hug anyway. Dick is happy to oblige.

"We looked at the numbers once. It was something like 923,000 volts. Plenty of energy. And basically infinite ectoplasm. And all I was thinking at the time was how I wasn't ready to die. I just wanted to be an astronaut and to impress my friends and to help people. And so the ectoplasm, my ectoplasm, responded to that desire. And it healed me. Healed my still living body. Suddenly I was both. Ectoplasm bound to a soul - a ghost - and a living human. Fully both." Danny pauses there, letting Dick digest the information. After a long moment, Dick has organized his thoughts enough to respond.

"Danny… I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me this. But that doesn't really explain-"

"No one walks away from a brush with death unchanged. Ectoplasm is everywhere. Usually trace amounts just floating around, waiting to bond to the next bit of soul that detaches from its living body. There are some hotspots, but they're few and far between and apparently some of them are super janked, which is another topic we need to revisit later, but preferably with the whole brood since it disproportionately affects one of you who I will not be outing without explicit permission." Danny gives Dick a very pointed look, knowing Dick wants to protest the idea of shelfing any topic that affects his family. Dick can't decide if he should feel cowed under the look or loved for how well Danny clearly knows him.

"Point is, you've all head brushes with death. You all have bits of ectoplasm bonded to you. First off, above and beyond what most civilians would ever experience. And second, once ectoplasm bonds to you, it develops a signature. A specific energetic resonance in tune with your soul. No 2 signatures are the same. And I, as a fully formed ecto-entity, can sense and differentiate those signatures. Now I'll admit, I'm not usually the most Observant ghost." Danny grins to himself at a joke Dick hopes he'll be let in on one day. "If we had been strangers, I probably never would have noticed. But when the man I just had lunch with an hour ago, who I'd been steadily falling in love with for 3 months, decides to come be my Knight in skin tight body armor; well, even I'm not oblivious enough to miss that one."

There's a long moment where neither of them say anything, Danny just playing with his fingers curled up in his arms, just letting Dick process. Which he is. Processing and sorting through information and acknowledging the Bat in him that has been subconsciously gauging Danny's honesty the whole time. And of course, Danny has been nothing but honest. Danny has never been anything but honest with him. Even when he wasn't ready to talk about something or hadn't sorted out his own feelings, he said that, he never lied about anything. It's no less true now. Even though it's not everything. There's a lot of gaps and details Danny glossed over. All in favor of focusing on answering the questions Dick has actually asked so far; the when and how he found out. There are so many more things they need to talk about. What is ectoplasm and what does he mean about the "jank" ectoplasm that disproportionately affects on of them? What does it mean the Danny is both a full ghost and a fully living human? What exactly is going on where the government has supposedly subverted the Meta Protections by declaring a group of people non-sapient? Yeah, Dick has questions. But he finds, for the moment, his inner Bat is contented.

Dick breathes in. Breathes out. Breathes in. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay. Yeah, okay. I mean, obviously I'm not gonna tell anyone or try to blackmail you or use this info against you in any way. I mean, like I said, I couldn't even if I wanted to. But I don't. Want to. I would never-"

"I trust you." And he does. Dick really, really trusts Danny. Enough that even his inner Bat is quiet and at ease in the back of his mind. It's a familiar, heady feeling that feels like home. It's standing on the edge of the platform, the edge of the building, the high bar, the high rafter; and stepping off with complete confidence that the trapeze, the grapple, John, Batman, Dad will catch him. It's the peace of mind, knowing that even if you fail there's a safety net to catch you, to go ahead and do the impossible.

"Yeah?"

"You trust me, I trust you. That tends to be how healthy relationships work." Danny snorts a laugh at the gentle teasing.

"I know, but there's still so much to tell you. About ghosts and ectoplasm and liminals and the Realms and seriously whatever nasty ecto your family has had contact with cause that's probably technically my job to fix and-"

Dick kisses his boyfriend. It's a long kiss, starting soft and sweet but quickly gaining fervor and passion. And it serves it's purpose well of freezing Danny's anxiety in it's tracks. It takes several minutes for them to fully break away from each other. Danny is breathless with dilated pupils, far from really calm, but definitely not so nervous anymore. Dick pulls him back into the cuddle.

"Move in with me." Danny startles and bluescreens. He becomes a textbook example of deer in the headlights, error 404. Dick feels it's fair to inflict that on him seeing as Danny has done the same several times over tonight. It's also just an incredibly attractive face on him.

"What?"

"Move in with me. You know I'm Nightwing," and there it is. The confirmation. Dick trusts him. "And now I know you know. And I've been wanting to ask for ages but I thought the night life was too big a secret between us, but that can't be an issue since you already know. I know you still have another year for your Master's and if you wanted to pursue a doctorate afterwards I'd obviously support you. So I know you wouldn't want to come to Bludhaven. But I have safe houses all over Gotham. Or we could look for a new place together if you;d prefer. I just want to live with you. To come home to you. To slow down with you and sleep in each other's arms every night and share every meal and every secret and our lives. So… move in with me." Danny pulls out of Dick's embrace and Dick let's him go so they can meet each other's eyes again.

They stare for a few seconds, Danny searching and Dick open, earnest, relaxed. Then they are kissing again. Heated and passionate and Danny pausing just long enough to murmur an enthusiastic, "Yes," before diving back in. The spend several minutes making out, hands wandering across each other's bodies. Hoodies and shirts are riding up. Blood is heating and Dick has never been more grateful for Danny's chilled apartment and cool body. Dick finds and kneads that point at the small of Danny's back that never fails to make his breath stutter and his body shudder and his pretty mouth mewl. Then Danny pulls away. "As nice as this is, and as much as I still want to enjoy what is left of our date night, maybe you should shoo the Baby Bird and Baby Bat off my fire escape before we get any less PG." Dick jerks his head to the window, just barely catching a flash of shadowed movement. Dick breathes in, huffs out. Danny laughs, light and happy. "They're just looking out for you. But still, you know I'm not against a bit of exhibitionism, but I draw the line at family in the audience." He leans in for one last quick kiss before climbing off of Dick's lap. "I'll be in the bedroom when you're done."

"Okay. Be there soon." Danny meanders back and Dick heaves a big brotherly sigh. He lifts himself off Danny's couch, stretching out and collecting their mugs as he goes. Tim and Damian will bypass the security and come in themselves, a fact proven by the shift of air in the room as Dick turns on the tap to clean the mugs.

"So…" Tim stalls, "He knows." Not a question. Dick nods anyway.

"He knows."

"Bernard situation?"

"A bit more complicated, but that's the gist of it."

"And you are certain he is not a threat, Richard?"

"I'm sure Baby Bat. He's known for almost 9 months."

Tim whistles out a breath, low and barely audible. "That long?" Dick hums. "How'd he figure it?"

"Meta." Apparently not technically, but that's answer enough for now. Dick is frankly much more interested right now in what's waiting for him down the short hallway. Tim, of course, is not so satisfied with that short answer.

"C'mon Dick, that conversation took way to long for it to be that simple."

"Are you not the one constantly harping about how clear and open communication would improve our abilities to work together in all situations? Do you not feel it pertinent to see us fully informed about this breach to our secret identities?"

The mugs are clean. Dick shuts the water off and turns to his brothers. "He's safe. I trust him. And I'll give everyone my full debrief tomorrow. For now," Dick glances at the space themed clock on the wall. 11:48. "It is still technically Friday and therefore technically date night and I would hate to disappoint the sweet, caring, understanding boyfriend waiting for me in his bedroom." Damian scowls and Tim grimaces. Dick relishes in a moment of making his brothers squirm. "You know your way out. Best not to peak back in any time soon."

"Tt. Come Drake. Clearly hormones have addled Richard's mind too much to be of any use tonight. We will have to push deeper into our own investigations of Nightingale tonight and hope Richard's sense has returned to him in the morning." Damian turns on his heel and crosses the living room in 6 long strides to climb back out the open window.

Tim lingers. "You trust him?"

"As much as you trust Bernard." Tim nods, then smirks.

"Better get on with it then. B won't hold back for long and having Batman show up in the middle is such a boner kill." Then Tim is gone, crossing the living room in 4 strides, ducking out and closing the window in one smooth motion. Dick listens for the clicking of various security measures reactivating, then the two quiet click and swishes of grapples firing. Dick isn't worried about hurrying like Tim suggested. Not with Danny. And if B does make the mistake of showing up, knowing Danny he'd just laugh. B's resulting trauma would be all his own fault.

Dick takes it slow, comfortable, relaxed. Danny knows. He knows and he's chill and he's trustworthy. That's the important part for now. And Dick is imagining a lifetime ahead to sort out the rest.

Danny/Dick, Violet, Rocky Road

@dat1angel Prompt fill #4. Feel free to continue this if you want! CW: Allusions to smut

Danny could feel the vibration of Dick’s watch through their clasped hands. He pretended not to, of course. Dick and him still hadn’t had that talk. There had been many talks: favorite food, siblings, what genre of movie was best, even kinks— which had been both embarrassing, enlightening, and very enjoyable— but they hadn’t had the whole vigilante talk.

Leading into ‘hey so I’m sorta dead and used to be a vigilante and totally know you’re Nightwing because your whole family reeks of death and darkness’ talk was harder than one might think.

Or maybe exactly as hard as one might think.

Danny just… he just had expected to find an opening by now to bring it up. Mostly Danny wanted to bring it up so that Dick and his family stopped having work so hard to hide everything from him. Right now there might be someone in trouble that Dick could be helping— or needed to be helping— and Danny hated to be the thing preventing that. It rankled at his core.

Dick made an apology as his phone beeped with a text next and pulled it out. Danny could see the emotions pass over his boyfriend’s face: worry, anger, disappointment… guilt. Danny hated the guilt worst. Sure it was their date night. Dick was so good about making room for it, for Danny, every Friday. And they really hadn’t gotten to the date yet. They were still walking to the movie theater, but it wasn’t as if Danny hadn’t gotten see Dick this week. Danny could see Dick struggling to find an excuse and he hated that.

“It’s okay.”

Dick’s head jerked up from his phone. “What?”

“It’s okay. It’s got to be something big, right? I mean, they’re calling you in on a Friday.”

“I don’t—”

“Dick,” Danny stopped him. He raised their clasped hands and kissed Dick’s knuckles and pressed a button on the watch before Dick could stop him. “He’ll be on his way. Just know I expect him back in one piece later tonight. I’m not going have no fun this Friday.”

Dick just gaped at him, mouth opening and closing. Silence rang heavy on the comm line.

Then, “TMI, dude.”

“Shouldn’t have interrupted date night baby bird,” Danny said with a laugh and pressed the button again.

“Danny,” Dick started.

Danny shook his head. “You’ve got good to do, hero. We can talk after. Like I said, I expect you back tonight even if you have to come in through the window.”

“Right,” Dick said. He looked completely flabbergasted by it all.

Danny laughed, gave Dick another kiss to his fingers, and then pulled away. “Go on now, shoo.”

Dick gave a shake, clearly in effort to knock himself out of his shock. “Right, okay, later.”

Dick leaned in to steal a kiss before he turned and ran off into the night.

That was one way to start the talk, Danny supposed.

[snail-day]

Satoru thinks he might actually be going insane.

Not in a funny way. Not in a "haha I'm so in love” way, no, like actual, clinical insanity.

Because you’re curled up in his lap again, cheek pressed against his chest, humming happily to yourself while scrolling through your phone with your legs draped over his thighs and he’s just… sitting there. Letting it happen. Pretending to watch the movie while his brain is trying to process the weight of your affection.

He doesn’t move. Barely breathes. If he breathes too hard, you might remember he’s just your roommate and move.

His hands are hovering like he doesn’t know where to put them. He wants to hold you so bad it physically hurts, but what if that’s weird? What if you’re just cold and he reads too much into it? What if you get up and say “God, Toru, you’re so clingy,” and then never touch him again?

So he just lets his fingers twitch uselessly against the couch cushion while you hum something under your breath and burrow deeper into him.

He’s so. Pathetic.

He lets you steal bites of his food. Lets you nap on his chest. Lets you crawl into his bed in the middle of the night with sleepy eyes and say “Nightmare,” expecting that to just explain everything. (It does.) He always opens the blankets and pulls you in, holds you until your breathing slows, until his heart stops threatening to burst through his chest.

He thinks you might be dating. Maybe. Possibly.

But you’ve never said anything.

And he doesn’t just want to assume.

What if this is just… how you are? Sweet. Clingy. Affectionate with everyone. What if you’re just playing house and he’s the idiot who fell in love with the fantasy?

God, he’s so embarrassing.

And then, you go and do something stupid. Like kiss his cheek when you get up. Like pout and say “Toru, come cuddle me,” attempting to guide him back to your room. Ignoring him when he tells you to stop being cute.

He doesn't follow. He just wants to ask.

To clarify.

Yet, anytime the words start to form his mouth goes dry. He stares at you. You glance over your shoulder, sipping from your cup. Waiting.

He opens his mouth.

And then closes it.

Because if he asks… if he really asks…what you are.

What would you even say?

And, can he even handle your answer?

------

Next Part: Wait, we're dating?

[crushmeeren]

Camp counselor! Katsuki is a senior counselor who’d come to camp every year until he turned fourteen. A junior counselor at seventeen. Now he’s twenty three, a senior counselor for years, and he doesn’t plan on quitting anytime soon.

Camp counselor! Katsuki takes you under his wing. You’d been a senior counselor at a different camp the previous summer, so you had a lukewarm grip on how things work, but he showed you the lay of the land, so to speak. Introduced you to the kids that return to All Might’s Mighty Warriors each year, to the friends / other counselors he’d grown up with — a.k.a. Eijirou, Izuku, Denki, even Shouto.

Camp counselor! Katsuki is stunning from the moment you meet him. Blonde hair shining in the hot summer sun, glowing like an angel. Skin sun kissed and smooth, only pale beneath the straps of his tank top, tan lines obvious and dizzying if he shifts the right way. You wonder how far below his shorts those tan lines go.

Camp counselor! Katsuki is firm, a tough love kind of man. He also lifts the kids spirits, encouraging them and giving constructive feedback when they need his help. They hang on every word, hero worship like you wouldn’t believe. He loves them too, though. He does the same for you, and it’s easy to understand with every fiber of your being why they look at Katsuki with stars in their eyes.

Camp counselor! Katsuki participates in every. single. activity. He’s competitive as all hell, and as much as the kids complain he’s doing too much, they secretly love it. Katsuki swims with them, he plays sand volleyball, basketball, tag — even arts and crafts. There’s nothing he won’t do.

Camp counselor! Katsuki is serious about sunscreen and skin protection. He gathers the kids every two hours to reapply. When you ask Katsuki to get your back he smirks. “Atta girl,” he praises, motioning for you to spin. “Can’t have a pretty thing like you burnin’ up, can we?” When his fingers untie the swimsuit knot at the nape of your neck blood rushes to your cheeks. Katsuki doesn’t miss a spot. He lathers it across your back, your shoulders, the nape of your neck. You return the favor and almost pass out.

Camp counselor! Katsuki loves s’mores. After all the kids have gone to bed, he sits at your side by the fire, thigh to thigh. Stories of his past camp experiences mingle with the crackle of fire and the song of cicadas. He assembles enough s’mores for a lifetime. The other counselors join, reminiscing with stories of their own. At some point your temple ends up on Katsuki’s shoulder, fingers intertwined. You go to bed with smoke scented hair and the memory of sweet, sticky lips pressed to yours.

Camp counselor! Katsuki writes his number on your palm before on the last day. He keeps in touch throughout the year, and by the time next summer rolls around, you wear the title of his girlfriend in your heart and senior counselor on your name tag.

master list

thank you @grenadehearts who helped me pick which character to write camp counselor headcannons for c:

[on-the-clear-blue]

Danny, staring up at Tim, who currently Robin: okay...so this isn't what it looks like.

Tim, giving dead pan glare: so you arnt breaking into Drake Manor?

Danny, shoulders dropping: okay yeah it's totally what it looks like...but not because you think!

Tim, sighing slightly: so you arnt homeless and thought that since Timothy Drake was recently adopted by Bruce Wanye, and both of his parents are dead you can just move in and live here?

Danny, blinking owlishly: I mean, yeah? I mean, not homeless, and I didn't even know that dude got adopted, like good for him, hope that he is safe and shiz, sucks that he parents died and all but not here to squat dude.

Tim, raising a single eyebrow: then why pray tell are you here?

Danny, kicking at the ground a bit: so like...ugh, so I might be um like...a...fudge what's the word...ah! Psychopomp? Like I am a dude that helps like people's ghosts pass and like keeps em happy.

Tim, squinting behind his mask: the only person that died here is Jack Drake and I assure you, his soul would not be happy going to where he deserves to be.

Danny, holding up his hands: wow lot of misplaced aggression there boy wonder...no I ain't here for him, like him and his wife did like...so much tomb raiding they would make the Victorians jelly. I am here cus they stole some dudes shit and he wants it back...like yesterday.

Tim, tilting his head: so you are here to steal an artifact.

Danny, popping the P sound: Yup, something about some guys clay tablet, he liked keeping his hate mail for some reason, said this one was about how he shorted some dudes iron? Or was it copper... my Mesopotamian isn't the best.

Tim, eyes widening, because he knows *exactly* which tablet he is talking about: Oh...yeah no bro, you seem chill but I really can't let you have that so why don't you just like...walk away and I won't be forced to do something kay?

Danny, frowning: Sames dude, up until that .y guy cus like...I *really* wasn't asking...

Tim, sighing as he extends his bo staff: Try and just like, not hold a grude yeah? Don't need a new villain...

Danny, pulling out an ecto gun and turning it on: I don't know man...I feel like we have good banter.

(They fight, Tim is still training so he is a bit sloppy, and Danny isn't shooting to kill, so it's more of them playing cat and mouse throughout Drake Manor, it ends with Danny stealing the tablet but having to leave the ecto gun, which gets broken when he escapes)

Tim, panting as he watches Danny flee: Fuck...is this what B feels after fighting Catwoman?

---

Bruce, rubbing his temples as Tim explains why he was late for training: You tried to apprehend an unknown, with a weapon of an unknown source and power...in the home of your secret identity?

Tim, looking properly chastised: God...yes that happened...he wasn't that bad honestly...was pretty witty.

Bruce developing a twitch in his eye: No.

Tim: No? No what.

Bruce, glaring hard at his adopted son: No falling in love with a villain.

Tim, looking scandalized now: Oh? What is this? Hypocrisy thy name is Bruce Wayne!

Bruce's glare turns into a batglare: Ten laps around the cave and fifty bo staff katas...no villains!

---

Danny becomes Tim's rogue, but not really, most of their battles are more each other showing off their new gear/moves they learned.

Danny also is only using tech that his parents made and he upgraded since he really doesn't want to go ghost in front of *Robin*, who is totally not his crush, and the only reason why he won't is because batman would 100% be on his ass.

Danny, pulling a massive creep stick with a nail driven through it out of seemingly nowhere: The new and approved Creep Stick! This time with nail to add tetnus damage!

Tim, watching as 'The Inventor' escapes once more: I hate seeing him leave but by God do I love watching him go...Damn should have turned on the camera just so I can see it again.

Barbara chiming in: Keep the main line PG Robin.

Batman, through coms: Hn...we shall be having words when we get back to the cave

Tim, sipping a soup that The Occultist made: "So like...why were you even here?

---

When the Titans tower incident occurs, Tim could only watch in awe as the Inventor, not only comes in from the ceiling with a literal metal chair, and then continues to beat up the guy with a bad Robin cosplay.

Danny, panting as he holds up the chair again: Back I say! Back! My blorbo!

Jason, seething as he actually hisses at this random teen that appeared out of nowhere, scurrying away while cradling his broken arm: You shall rue the day! Jason Todd was here bitches!

Tim, staring up at Danny, face a bloody mess and an adoring look in his eyes: omg he stalks me, this is must what the other guys felt when I did it!

They don't really start dating, it's much more Danny breaking into Tim's house and just not leaving.

Tim, watching as his "arch enemy" is sprawled across his couch, bucket of ice cream in one hand, spoon in another, phone balanced between his ear and shoulder, pants and socks tossed haphazardly across the living room and just chilling in his boxers: Now wait a damn minute.

Danny, pausing while looking up from his ice cream (which is actually Tim's, since the boy is rich and buys the good shit), pointing his spoon accusatorily at Tim: Your fucking late Mister! Drag race started half an hour ago and we agreed to watch it together!

Tim, blushing under the Robin mask: Sorry case got good and- wait wait wait, when did we agree to watch drag race together?

Danny, rolling his eyes: when I made breakfast this morning? I even gave you extra strong coffee for your solem swearing that you would be here.

Tim, thinking back to earlier: I just...remember a bright white orb giving me a mug and a plate of food...

Danny, scoffing: this is why I need to drug you to get to sleep more often. Now take off your gear and get over here, they about to choose who shall sashay away!

Tim, nodding slowly: Hope it is that one queen from last episode, that lio sink didn't have any- wait! Ugh you keep distracting me! When did you fucking move in? I don't even know your name!

Danny with a spoon just an inch away from his mouth: Jazz? Yeah I uhh...I gotta call you back...(clicks hang up on his phone) Your joking right? For the shits and gigs?

Tim, shaking his head slowly: No shits, not a single gig my dude, 100% honest.

Danny, who had just arrived this morning since his parents are renovating because Fenton HQ is a glaring OSHA violation, but also who's middle names are "commit to the bit" and "Gaslight GateKeep Girl boss" : Babe we have been dating for like, *months*...d-do ou really not remember?

Tim, existential crisis made manifest: Oh no...I have been mind wiped.

Danny, astounded that worked: Baby I am so sorry...

They "date" for like a week before Danny starts feeling bad that he tricked Tim (who he finally got to see maskless, he had to stop his heart to not show any outward reaction to that, cus like hell he is cute) and wants to come clean but he honestly never had seen Tim more happy nor more healthy.

Danny, sitting across Bruce at the Manor: S-So um...like yeah we um...met at a science convention? My um...my parents were show casing stuff and like...we met there?

Bruce, eyes narrowing because that sounded like a lie: Hn.

Dick, happy that Tim finally felt comfortable to bring his "boyfriend" to dinner: B stop glaring! Your going to scare off Timmy's Bf! God you weren't this bad when I brought over Roy that one time.

Bruce doesn't stop glaring, and it's making Danny even more nervous: Um I uh...need to use the bathroom one sec...

Tim moves to guide him but Alfred waves him to sit down: You really must eat Master Timothy, I did make your favorite today. I shall guide Mister Fenton to the lavatory.

Alfred does indeed lead Danny from the dining room, but the second they are far enough the old butler suddenly has a shotgun in hand, skin suddenly a pale blue and objects around the parlor turning green and floating: While they do try and see the best in others, I do not Phantom, now I must ask you to kindly leave and never contact Master Timothy every again. I shall not let my charge fall for such as the likes of you.

Danny blinking at how he was addressed, a sudden ghostly blue mist escaping his mouth: Oh shit.

They have a ghost fight, all while comically popping in and out of the dining room, making excuses for whyvthe other is gone.

It ends when Tim, finally fed up with why his boyfriend is taking so long opens the door only to see him duking it out with Alfred, fully gone ghost and was loosing.

Such leads to confessions of lies, real feeling and why Alfred has been able to be a spry 60 even though he fought in WWI and it is very much the mid 2010s.

(Danny and Tim do end up together, this time with no lies about a mind wipe, and get Kon and Bart to join their polycule later on)

[kaylasficrecs]

ok, i’m literally deathly afraid of spiders. it’s a whole problem, but when i was playing fallen order for the first time, and the part where a spider literally drops from the ceilings onto you, i jumped so hard from where i was sitting that i dropped my controller.

true story.

and i hate those things. i haven’t played survivor yet but if there are more big spiders i’m going to lose it.

I’ll risk it all for you (Reader x Cal Kestis)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex–awesome–22​, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers​, @merlieve​, @queen-of-books​, @glimmering-darling-dolly​, @denkisclown​, @wildieflower​, @meyocoko​, @bubblybrianna​, @justanothercoco​ @idkwhatmyusernameis,  @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23​, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr​

You carefully looked where you stepped. Everywhere nothing but green. Kashyyyk was the planet you were on to find a Wookiee chieftain named Tarfful. – “Keep up Y/n!” – Cal called out, turning briefly to you. – “Scared I’ll fall behind?” – you responded with mischief in your eyes. Cal shook his head childishly, mocking your ways. He puffed loud, turning back to the front. His eyes widened when his foot took a step forwards. In a split second wrapped a rope around his ankle, shooting him up in the air. BD-1 having jumped off his back. Cal was hanging upside down, waving his arms around. 

You came closer, laughing your ass off. – “How’s it hanging?” – you asked lowering yourself with a tilt of your head to smile at him. Cal slowly swinging from side to side. – “Can you cut me down?” – he said irritated. You gave him a gentle poke in the chest, letting him swing a bit more, thinking. – “If you say pretty, please.” – you responded. – “Y/n!” – Cal groaned trying to pull his chest up with little success. – “I didn’t hear you say please.” – you made clear, holding your hand behind your ear. – “Can you for one second not be irritating?” – he already felt his blood lower to his head, making him dizzy. 

Keep reading

[rafey-baby]

clumsy!reader is still bad at yoga and yoga instructor!rafe wants to keep her all to himself...

c/w: rafe being touchy & blatantly flirting w her, him getting jealous, slightly suggestive, reader being oblivious, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.9k

idk if anyone missed him but he's back & better than ever !! (after a small vacation that ended up being almost 3 months :D)

some parts are more or less inspired by this, this, this & this ask

part 1

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is in the midst of helping someone fix their posture when he hears the gates of heaven opening in the form of a melodious giggle chiming from the back of the room. He lifts his head in order to detect the source of such a vibrant sound; noticing that his favorite client is currently directing her attention towards some guy next to her.  

The joyful expression she’s sporting makes a scowl paint over his features. Why is this random man making her laugh like that?  

“Yeah, you got it. Just keep workin’ on it though,” he quickly dismisses the person he was helping before stomping over to find her practically lying on the floor with the guy’s hands on her calf, along with his mat pulled far too close to hers for Rafe’s liking.   

“I think you should bend it more here, right? I’m honestly not too sure,” the guy chuckles as he tries to figure out what she’s doing wrong.  

“No cause I have no idea how everyone else makes it seem so easy. It’s so hard to get it right, I feel so stupid half the time,” she complains with a huff, not even noticing Rafe looming within earshot.  

“Seriously, I thought this was a beginner’s class but it feels like some of these poses are meant for like literal pros,” he continues with a shake of his head. 

“I know, right?” another peal of laughter bubbles from her throat as she shifts into a seated position, giving up altogether.  

“Everything alright?” Rafe doesn’t mean for his tone to come out so clipped but there’s something in the way the guy’s touching her so freely that makes his hands curl into fists. 

He keeps reminding himself over and over again that this is a client, which means that he can’t just smash his face in— no matter how severely his fingers are itching for it right about now.  

“Oh, I was just trying to help her with this,” the guy explains in tandem with her head turning to look at Rafe. She seems startled.  

“Well, why don’t you focus on your own form for a change? I mean, s’kinda my job to help her, yeah?” he scoffs, making the guy halt his movements in a state of surprise before he's lifting his hands up in apology.  

“Damn, sorry dude,” he mutters out from under his breath while Rafe merely glares at him with the words stay professional bouncing around his skull.  

A tense silence follows, making her grow quiet while she takes slow sips from her water bottle as a distraction; wondering why he seems so bothered to see her talking to someone else.  

However, when he finally turns his attention towards her, she shrugs it off as him merely having a bad day because it seems like the only logical explanation to her. Because at the end of the day, him being jealous makes as much sense to her as her math homework in high school.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe is convinced that the universe is purposefully trying to poke and prod at his limits, giving his carefully curated facade opportunities to crack— allowing for the borderline psychotic aspects of his personality to breathe through the crevices. Because only a week later, Rafe sees her entering the gym with another guy she seems to be awfully friendly with. 

“That’s crazy, I don’t even wanna know what Kie said to that,” she rolls her eyes jokingly while he’s showing her something on his phone.  

”Yeeeah, guess you could say she wasn’t the biggest fan,” he laughs in a carefree manner, raking a hand through his disheveled, sand-colored hair.  

“For some reason I’m not surprised,” she mutters out before she notices Rafe standing in the hallway leading to the yoga class. “Oh, gotta go so I’m not late. See you after?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be here. Think Pope said he’s gonna join me for leg day, so we’ll see if I’m still standing when you get back. But you have fun,” he offers her a wave before walking away towards the locker rooms. 

And at last, her warm eyes meet Rafe’s. “Hi,” her voice is soft, nearly shy; a stark contrast to her demeanor only a few seconds ago.  

“Hey,” he greets her in a casual manner, although his mind is somewhere else entirely. “So, that your boyfriend or?” he tries to approach the subject with nonchalance because it’s not necessarily any of his business.  

He’s not even sure why he’s asking— keeps telling himself that he’s just curious and tries to appear friendly by making small talk. After all, some clients have given him feedback on his apparently intimidating aura, claiming they don’t always have the courage to ask for his help because they get anxious he’ll judge them. Therefore, it's something he’s been trying to work on.  

“What? Oh, JJ? No, he’s just a friend. He goes to the gym here, so I usually just tag along with him. Free ride, right?” she answers with a lighthearted tone.  

“Right. Yeah,” he scratches at the back of his neck, contemplating whether or not to ask the next question since he doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries. However, there’s something deep in his stomach that grumbles at the prospect of her being in a relationship, makes him feel nearly insane and ultimately, makes the decision for him. 

“You, uh, you got one?”  

“What?” she asks, features coated in confusion. 

“A boyfriend, I mean,” his gaze is unwavering, eager.  

“Oh, um— no, I don’t. Why?” her puzzled eyes flit over the lines of his countenance, seemingly trying to grasp onto his motives. 

“Just, uh…wondering. I mean, he’d be kind of a dick if he’s not drivin’ you here himself,” he shrugs, a strange sort of relief making his shoulders feather-light when she lets out an airy giggle in response.  

“Yeah, honestly sometimes wish I had one just so he could drive me around and stuff,” she jokes while they begin to pad over to the class. 

“You don’t have your license yet?” he raises his brows in surprise.  

“No, I do. I just don’t really like driving. I don’t know why but it’s so stressful to me. Usually try to avoid it as much as I can,” she elaborates while gathering her hair away from her face and securing the strands into a ponytail.   

“Oh yeah? Well, if you ever need a ride home just let me know, alright?” he says, fighting the urge to tuck a loose tendril that has managed to escape the restraints of her hair tie back behind her ear.  

“Really? That’s so sweet of you! But, um, wouldn’t wanna be a bother,” the hesitation is present in her voice.  

“Nah, couldn’t bother me if you tried,” he promises, wishing they could talk for longer. However, the ocean of people flooding inside the room behind them cuts their conversation short.  

“You’re just saying that,” she dismisses him with a playful scoff. 

“M’being for real. You’re my favorite face around here. Plus, makes my job more fun when you’re always stumblin' on your feet,” he can’t help his mouth from twisting upwards at the way her eyes round out in response to his words. 

“Shut up. I’m gonna go set down my mat now, before there’s only space right in front of you,” she offers him a giddy smile that makes him grin like an idiot. Then, she’s tiptoeing away from him in order to locate a vacant spot. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rafe has become awfully familiar with these newfound feelings of fondness for the girl who’s by far the most helpless little bambi he’s ever encountered. He thinks she should honestly pick another hobby at this point, because maybe yoga just isn’t meant for her. However, he’d never say any of that out loud because even the thought of not seeing her getting all flustered while she loses her balance whenever he’s near makes him feel physically unwell.  

He’s not entirely sure whether her apparently oblivious brain simply hasn’t caught onto the fact that he so clearly has a thing for her, or if she’s well aware and merely chooses to be a tease about it. Nonetheless, the moment she walked into the class today, he could feel his workout shorts tightening and all she’d offered him was a simple smile.  

And now she’s right in front of him, all tangled limbs and pretty eyes blinking up at him— practically begging for his guidance and for him to put his hands all over her (something she doesn’t seem to mind all that much).  

“You put this cute little set on just for me, huh?” he rasps out while his thumb smooths over the bubblegum pink fabric; feeling it out as he pinches the stretchy fabric between his fingertips, making her breath get caught in her throat in the process.  

“Oh, um— just wanted to…try out some new stuff I ordered. You think it’s cute?” she stares at him with something bashful glimmering in her eyes. 

“Mhm. Fits you nice,” he mumbles out as his gaze lingers on the way the tight material wraps around her figure, not leaving much to the (his) imagination. He bets it’d be so easy to just rip right through these cute yoga pants and pull her closer with a firm grip on her hips before burying his face between her plush thighs.

“Thanks,” she peeps out, flustered.  

He tries to shake off the improper, filthy thoughts with a clear of his throat when he gets caught staring at her for a little too long.  

“So, you actually wanna bend your leg on the other side of your body on the mat and support your foot with your left arm not the right one. Easy to get them confused,” he chuckles as she shifts her position according to his instructions as best as she can. 

“Like this?” she seeks reassurance with a soft tone.  

“Yeah, just like that, Bambi. Good job,” his mouth quirks up some while her mind begins to cloud over in response to his low cadence. She’s not entirely sure what exactly it is about him that makes her feel so fuzzy on the inside, but she thinks it’s nice, thinks she wants to always have him this close to her— wants him even closer.

She doesn’t remember the last time she’s had such an intense crush on someone— slowly turning into a crazy person by each second of not knowing whether he’s merely flirting with her for his own amusement or because he’s actually into her. However, she thinks she’s embarrassed herself in front of him far too many times for the latter to be true in any reality.  

“Then need you to move your right hand here,” he adjusts her form with a grip on her wrist while he maneuvers her to his liking; tingles erupting all over the skin he skims over with his fingertips.  

Her head is spinning.  

“See? Knew you could do it. Feels nice, hm?” he rumbles out, letting his hands rest on her shoulders for support, despite the position not really requiring it.  

She hums her response because she doesn’t trust for any coherent words to stumble out of her mouth at the moment, all the while Rafe is desperately trying to not pay attention to the nearly painful situation in his pants.