#Even the bats catch a flicker of him sometimes.

[kizzer55555]

DP x DC: My Brother’s Ghost

So there are a bunch of fics where Danny and Damian are twins and Danny eventually has to go to Gotham or Damian/another bat interacts with Danny as ghost king. But I do you one better. Danny faked his death because of failing a mission/he actually died and his mother brought him back. (Or maybe he revived on his own after constant Lazarus exposure over time and knew he couldn’t go back). Anyways, Danny knew that he needed to go to Bruce Wayne in Gotham if he ever needed anything but only as a last resort as they would expect him to go there. So he’s been monitoring Bruce from afar and immediately knew when Damian joined the bats. He clocked him as the new Robin and started following his hero career more closely. He was content to watch his family from afar. Even after the accident. Then something happens where Robin was said to go missing and when no news showed up after a few days, Danny got worried so figured it couldn’t hurt to do a quick trip to Gotham.

He dresses in all black and a hood made using an old ninja Halloween costume. Not nearly as much protection as his old league uniform but with his ghost powers he doesn’t really need protection. Just anonymity. He goes to Gotham in phantom form, making sure all his white hair is carefully tucked in the black hood so only his green eyes remain. He uses his old assassin training and finds Robin drugged and captured in an old warehouse by the court of owls. Robin clearly isn’t thinking straight but Danny puts him in a simple choke hold to knock him unconscious anyways. Better safe than sorry. He quickly frees the boy and drops him off in an area he knows the other bats are searching. After watching to make sure Damian is safe and a bat finds him, he leaves.

Damian could barely remember his capture but he thought he saw a figure in black with glowing green eyes. He could have sworn the future was trying to kill him but…he woke up looking at another bat (or maybe even the manor). Did his family save him?

Meanwhile, Danny can’t stop thinking about Damian. Despite his assassin training, he was drugged and hurt. Danny thought he could handle himself. He thought he would be safe. But what if this happened again? What if the colony of bats wasn’t enough? So Danny couldn’t help the occasional visit to Gotham to make sure his twin was ok. Most of the time he didn’t do anything, just watched. Sometimes, though, there would be an instance where Damian got out of a dangerous situation and no one knew how. A building collapsed, Damian appeared unharmed outside. A goon was about to get a lucky shot? Somehow the bullet missed or the goon got taken out when no other bats were nearby. Fear gas? Damian faintly remembers warm hands hugging him as he struggled. And while he thought it was weird he heard his brother’s comforting voice when it should be a nightmare, he chalked it up to the fear gas anyways since there was no other explanation.

Yet every time there is a particularly dangerous encounter, he swears he sees the figure in black. Damian sees the figure more and more yet none of his family do. They swore to keep an eye out anyways in case. You never know. Sometimes the figure becomes more clear and Damian has tried to chase them but always loses them quickly. One time the chase lasted at least five minutes and Damian managed to corner the figure in an alleyway only for them to pass through the wall.

The bats suspect that this could either be meta abilities or magic. The funny thing is, there were no traces. No one sees the figure except Damian. No one hears them, and there’s is nothing to indicate their presence, not even footprints. It’s like they were never there and no matter how hard they try, there is no footage of the figure. Sometimes cameras glitch out and sometimes they only show Robin, sometimes neither or they seem to loop on themselves. So the bats are leaning towards Magic.

They call Constantine to give Damian a thorough check and he declares that Damian shows signs of interacting with a ghost. And that stumps everyone. A ghost? If it was a friendly specter like Deadman then he would help everyone, not just Damian. If it was hostile, it would never help Damian. So why is this ghost only focusing on the youngest bat and why? Is there even someone that would come back from the afterlife to help the demon brat, let alone have the will strong enough to manifest a ghost that can affect the living? Damian was a former assassin after all and he’s hardly the friendliest bat. So who would help him that has already died?

Throughout this, Damian is silent. Because there is one person he knows to have died that might do this. One person skilled enough to avoid the other bats and evade Damian during a chase. One person Damian would acknowledge as having a will stronger than his own. But something was wrong…because he was sure that that person didn’t have green eyes.

So the next time the figure shows himself Damian attacks. Not just a chase but an outright challenge. Hand to hand combat. And as Damian punches and kicks, the figure expertly parries each attack. And as the fight goes on, Damian watches. And he knows those moves. Those dodges. Those blocks. He can read this figure’s fighting stance like the back of his hand because he grew up with it.

And Damian knows without a shadow of a doubt as the figure disappears into he ground, that despite the changed eye color, the tan skin, the increased height, his brother’s ghost has come back to watch over him.

And for the first time in many years, Damian cries. That’s how the bats find him.

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 9

WC: 1088, Masterpost

Cass hummed happily. Moving their new brother to the better safe house had gone so well that Cass was finally getting to meet him— to meet Danny! His name was Danny. Cass rolled the name around on her tongue, silently trying out out.

It was a good word day, a good day in so many ways, but Cass knew that the excitement of it all could make her tongue trip up. She wanted to get Danny’s name right this first time. Cass knew how much names mattered and she wanted to do the best by her new brother. Danny deserved the best, after everything he had been through.

Her arms were full of things that would hopefully help Danny continue to improve: soft clothing, a weighted blanket, a heat pack stuffed animal, and fresh groceries. Jason met her outside the elevator to help carry it all.

“Hey, Cass,” he said. His exhaustion pulled at his words.

He never tried to hide how tired he was from her, not like he did around the others. Cass knew it was because he knew that she would see past it, but it still felt nice to be the sibling that Jason didn’t mask around. (Dick still thought that he could get away with it.)

“Hello, Jason,” she said and took the opportunity to brush a kiss against his cheek when he leaned in to take the groceries from her.

It made his smile a little softer. “Thanks for bringing this stuff.”

“Of course,” Cass chirped. “Rules?”

“More guidelines,” Jason said. “No sudden or big movements, no loud noises. Metal sounds seem to set him off sometimes, so be careful in the kitchen. Oh, and stay where he can see you, at least at first. We figure we’ll have you over maybe one more time and then put you on rotation with us watching over him.”

“Yes, happy to help,” Cass agreed. She could follow those rules easily, even if they were more guidelines. “You need more rest.”

Jason chuckled dryly. “Yeah I do. That’s part of getting you and then Babs introduced. We’re still keeping someone awake in case he has a night terror or something.”

Cass hummed. Those were never any fun. “Hot chocolate?”

“We’ve got some on the cabinet. I’ll be sure to show you where everything is,” Jason assured her.

“Good. New brother now, please,” Cass said. She rolled her eyes when Jason gave her a look. “Yes, yes. Danny once in the door, not new brother. I know the ‘guidelines’.”

“Brat,” Jason grumbled but in that way that meant ‘I love you’.

It made Cass smile happily as they entered the apartment. She slipped her shoes off inside the door. Like the others, she had dressed in athleisure wear and a domino. She hoped it put their new brother more at ease than her mask would have with the stitched mouth. With the wide eyed way that Danny was watching her with, anything that would help him feel more settled was good.

She gave a little wave and smile. “Hello, Danny. I am Black Bat.”

Danny’s eyes flickered between her and Jason before he pulled one hand away from the tangle of himself him and Dick made to wave at her. “Um, hi Black Bat.”

“I brought things,” she said as she slowly lowered the bags onto the kitchen bar.

Dick perked up. “Ooh, candy?”

“Of course candy.” Cass didn’t bother to hide how she rolled her eyes at that. “But also…”

She tried to keep the noise down as she searched for the right bag. Pulling out the stuffed animal, she spun back around to face Danny and Dick. “For Danny,” she said, the soft, blue, teddy bear held in front of her face.

“Me?”

Cass hummed in confirmation and crept closer to the couch. She crouched down before she was too close, and held out the teddy bear towards Danny. He clearly wanted to reach out, but he held back. He was worried; she understood.

She hate that she did, but she did. She new too well what it was like to have something nice turned into a punishment.

“No tricks,” she assured him. “No payment. No catch. Just because, for you.”

Danny studied her for a long moment before he finally, slowly reached out to touch the teddy bear. When she didn’t pull it back, he took it and buried his face into the fabric.

“It’s soft.”

Cass nodded. “Yes. And yours.”

“Thank you.”

“You are welcome,” Cass assured him with a beaming smile. She backed up a little and sat on the floor.

“B.B. here might be looking after you with Hood and I,” Dick said as he let Danny settle back in against him. “But only if you’re alright with it. She’s the best though.”

“Favorite,” Cass said with a laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jason said from the open kitchen where he had finished putting away the food. He came up to stand behind her and she leaned back against her legs. “We all love you.”

“Yes.”

Jason snorted at her easily agreement. “Now Danny, do you want your big meal now or a snack now.”

“Do I have to?” Danny asked, softly, before snapping his mouth closed ducking back against Dick.

“Sorry Danny, but yeah,” Dick said. He brushed his fingers through Danny’s hair, but didn’t try to make him move. “Remember what you and Hood talked about this morning?”

The reply was whispered into the new blue bear. “That I have to try at last a few bites each time, even if I’m not hungry.”

“Exactly. But that sounds like to me like a snack might be best right now?” Dick waited for a nod. “Okay. And then a big meal later. Hey, maybe we can play a game to pass the time! It can be you and me against Hood and B.B.”

“Oh you’re going down,” Jason crowed, playing it up just enough to get Danny to peer out from behind the bear at them.

Dick gasped dramatically. “You would beat our dear,” a fraction of a pause where Cass knew Dick wanted to say brother, “esteemed guest? How could you?”

“Hey, alls fair in love and board games, you know that. But we’ll let you and Danny pick the game you want to lose at, won’t we B.B?”

“Only fair,” she agreed with an innocent smile. When Danny eyed her dubiously she couldn’t help but laugh. This new brother would be very fun to have around.

---

AN: This part has needed the very ending for a good bit now and it finally got there! Cass is always so much fun to write, even if she takes me a little to get into the swing with. Danny seems a fan so far too! Now who might he meet next... ^_~

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the masterpost.

[luciopioid]

when i’m in your arms

Jason Todd x GN Reader NSFW

The television flashed bright colors in your dark living room. You couldn’t sleep, you haven’t been able to these past couple days. Every night that you tried, your brain would be addled with thoughts from the previous week. You’d feel the sting of embarrassment first, you’d pause and close your eyes in an attempt to forget the humiliation. Then you’d feel the regret. You’d feel the regret of a rash decision, the lost relationship– all of it. You almost felt dirty. You watched the screen mindlessly as you replayed the previous night’s happenings in your head.

__

The cold night air of the balcony serenaded your face. You slouched over the railing. Your forearms dangling off the building. You tried to drown out the rowdiness of the crowd and the loud music. You were having a good time initially, but there’s only so much small talk and liquor you could take. Jason suggested you come with him only to coincidentally—and hilariously— disappear. You tried texting him.

You: wya??

No answer.

After minutes of scrolling through your phone, thinking of ways to escape from the party, you hear the balcony door open and close. Without turning, you ask “Where the hell’d you go?” Nonchalantly, Jason replies, “The kitchen,” You sigh as he joins you in leaning against the railing, his shoulder brushing yours. 

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, looking at your face

“I’m fine…Just tired is all.” You don’t bother looking back at him. “Lotta people.” You added.

“I shouldn’t have dipped like that, you don’t even know half these people.” Jason says bashfully as his voice quieted again.

“I’m not entirely incapable of socializing. I’m just tired…trust me.” You didn’t want pity. Although you were a little upset he’d dragged you out just to disappear in the middle of the night, the way the wind hit his curls and the way his voice softened— you couldn’t be mad for long.

Silence lingers between you, until you turn to one another, locking eyes simultaneously. It was wrong, feeling this way for your friend. Sometimes, you wanted nothing more than to slap some sense into him; others just to kiss him breathless. He was so beautiful like this, the darkened sky and the yellowish glow from the window hitting his face.

“You look good.” He says, smiling. “I like your hair like that.”

“Are you buttering me up?” You ask, returning the smile.

He reassures, “No! I mean it! You look nice.” The corners of his lips cinched at his cheeks. You resented that smile at times. His stupid face and those big bear-fur brown eyes, equally stupid. You hated that he couldn’t be yours.

“Thank you, Jason.” 

The moment falls silent again and you catch his gaze. Your shoulders go back to touching and you share a sincere stare. Involuntarily, your eyes flicker to his lips and back at his eyes. His lips were always plump and dark pink. Always complimented by the stubble surrounding his mouth. His gaze is soft. He looks at you with a faint smile.

You don’t remember when your faces inched this close together, but in the heat of the moment your lips touch. You close your eyes, blissfully unaware of your surroundings. His lips are soft and sweet. The kiss is slow and languid, you turn your face at an angle to deepen the kiss. On impulse, Jason stops and he pulls away from you, touching his lips. You feel regret pool deep in your stomach. You knew you’d messed things up between you two— you just knew it.

“I’m sorry. I- I don’t.. I’m sorry.” Jason babbles as he steps back from you. He looked confused, like he didn’t know where he was. Jason, in a hurry, opens the door from the balcony and goes inside. Leaving you to your lonesome, in a cold, confused state. 

—

You felt your eyelids get heavy. You grab your remote and switch off the television. Just as you were getting up to make your way to the bed, you hear a string of gentle knocks at your door. Suspicious, you walk towards the knocking and place your hand on the bat by the door…just in case. Upon looking into the peephole, you feel your stomach sink. The knocks continued. 

At first, you were sure you were imagining it. It was Jason. It was Jason slouched over, holding his arm tightly like he’d been hurt. 

You quickly open the door, “Shit. What happened?” 

“Please.” Is all he manages to say. You notice the blood seeping out between his fingers on his arm. 

Without thinking, you gently pull him inside. You put him against your counter and you hurry to the bathroom to grab bandages. You return in front of him. You hesitate to reach out to him initially, but you’d rather him not bleed out in your kitchen. You grab his hand and move it out of the way. The sleeve on black compression shirt soaked and shiny. You cinch his sleeve and move it up to his shoulder, revealing his bicep– his cut and bloody bicep. Upon wiping away some of the blood, the cut wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t anything pretty, and It was deep enough to explain the blood, but not deep enough for serious (albeit professional) medical attention. 

“This might sting.” You warned before cleaning the gash in antiseptic. He made a visceral reaction, he winced as he closed his eyes tight. You almost wanted to say sorry. You could think of a million other things you’d rather be doing than sewing up the gaping wound of a very much conscious and aware Jason. 

You finish stitching the cut on his arm and bandaging it. Jason looks visibly disheveled. You take in the sheen of sweat that gathered on his forehead and cheeks. 

“Are you faint at all? Nauseous?” You inquire. 

“No. I’m fine– better now.” Jason replies through gritted teeth, but you knew he was lying.

His words linger in silence as you feel almost all the emotions at once. Confusion speaks first. “Why are you here, Jason?” 

He doesn’t look at you directly. “I didn’t know where else to go.” 

Your stomach twists again. Fucking hell, Jason. 

“How’d you get hurt?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” He replied and you let irritation take the lead this time.

“To me it does.” You retort.

Jason doesn’t respond. You weren’t thinking straight. You missed him so much, you hated him for making you feel this way. You hated him for probably hating you too now. 

“I think you should leave.” You say flatly it’s then that he finally looks at you. He looks at you with the same light eyes and olive skin from last time. You feel sick.  

“Thanks.” He says softly and you feel everything bubbling up again. He wasn’t making this easy.

“Christ, Jason. You show up at my door at 2am with a bloody arm after avoiding me for two weeks and all I get is a fucking thanks?” You spat. You didn’t yell. You didn’t want to yell. You intended for it to hurt him as much as it hurt you. 

“I-I’m sorry… it’s just-” He begins. 

“It’s just what, Jason?” You ask sharply. A beat of silence passes before you decide to speak again. He looks away.

“Do you regret it?” 

Jason’s face always spoke before he did. He furrowed his brows and shook his head slightly. He paused before he finally answered, “No.” 

You tilted your head to find his eyes. “Will you look at me and say it?” 

“No. No, I don’t regret it.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” You ask, softly. 

“I…” He hesitates again, not entirely sure of how to answer your question. “I got scared…” He says after another beat of silence. “It freaked me out at first– I didn’t know what to do…” 

Your eyebrows furrow, “What are you talking about?” Jason’s eyes locked with yours.

“What if I messed things up between us?” He asked rhetorically. “I’ve never felt like this before. It just shocked me… then afterwards I realized I wanted more.” Jason avowed. 

“More?”

Jason’s voice lowered again. “I wanted more,” He hesitated, “Than just the kiss…I want you.” 

You exhaled. This was all too much. It was too much and simultaneously not enough.  

“I don’t understand.” You muttered, “Why couldn’t you just talk to me? I thought you hated me.” A part of you was too ashamed to admit that last part out loud, even if it was true. 

“I didn’t– I don’t hate you.” Jason says sincerely. “I was just scared. I don’t want to lose you.” His face looked so innocent, like a child in trouble for breaking a vase. 

“I really liked kissing you.” He adds, it was so quiet you’re not even sure he actually said it. 

It was times like this that frustrated you the most, even beyond your admiration for the man. It was times like this that frustrated you because you knew you couldn’t stay like that for long with him. In the end, you’d always crawl back to Jason. 

Involuntarily, you reach out to touch his curls.Your hand fiddling with the hair at his crown. He stares up at you with those same eyes that started all of this to begin with. He looks up at you with the same eyes that you’d go back to time and time again. 

“I liked kissing you too.” You whisper. 

Jason’s eyes soften as he leans into your touch. “I’m so sorry, for everything.” He says, looking into your eyes. Hand still in his hair, he speaks again. 

“I just wanna be yours.” He confesses. 

The confession made your chest tighten. You wondered how long he’d been thinking about this. Gods above, if he only knew a fraction of the way you wanted him to be yours too. Jason takes your hand in his hair and moves it to his cheek. His face is warm and soft, just like you’d imagined. You step closer to him, his hand still covering yours on his cheek. You cup his face with both of your hands now and you place a soft kiss to the bridge of his nose. You felt his entire body relax against you as his face leaned more into your touch. Slowly, you kissed his cheek. You move his face so that it's in front of yours and you kiss the corner of his mouth. And with that, the dam breaks again as he presses his lips with yours. 

The kiss started off soft, gentle nips at each others lips, but Jason let out an involuntary moan and it flicked a switch inside of you. You took his bottom lip into your mouth and sucked. This earned a vocal and clear whimper from Jason as well as a shiver through his spine. He tried to resist pressing against you more, but the more you kissed him like this, the more he needed more of you.

You detached from his lips and watched him mindlessly chase your face as you backed off. You admired his face. The deep flush on his cheeks and his pink plump lips lined with saliva. You lean in again and your mouth finds the secret place between his collarbone and neck. Similar to that of a leech, you latch on and suck. You graze your teeth the spot while you suck and Jason can’t help but gasp.

“Feels so good,” He says breathlessly. You suck even harder at different spots, enough to leave marks. Enough for it to be hard to hide, enough for him to look at them tomorrow and be unable to think about anything else but you. 

You grip a handful of his hair and pull his head back, giving you easier access to his throat. In response, he lets out a low and guttural hum as you lick and nip at his exposed neck. 

Jason’s hips press against yours and you feel something hard poking at your hip. You look down between the two of you and see his hard-on straining through his pants. You look back up at him and all he’s able to mutter is a pathetic, “Please.”

You miss the feeling of his lips on yours, you kiss him again before giving in to his pleas. Your lips touch and he almost immediately rolls his tongue into your mouth. The kiss deepens as he gasps into your mouth and ruts his hips against you. Your tongues brush against each other and as the empty room is filled with nothing but the sounds of Jason’s moans and wet lips tangling with each other. 

You pull off from his lips and Jason whines at the loss. Your hands find his hips. “Please, what? Use your words baby.” You say in a low voice into his ear. Only for him to hear. 

“Want you…want you to touch me.” He says breathy and soft. You grin at his neediness and your grip at his hips a little harder. “Yeah?” You ask in a mocking voice. 

You give in to him. Just like you always do. You cup your hand in front of his mouth.

“Spit.”

And he does. He pucks his lips and lets out a drop of saliva into the palm of your hand, leaving a string of drool falling from his bottom lip. You reach down and with one hand, pulling the waistline of his pants and his boxers as you slip your spit ridded hand in with the other. Your hand immediately finds his warm and erect dick as you wrap your hand around it.

Jason whines at the contact and his head falls onto your shoulder. “Fuck,” he whispers, deep and low. You coat the rest of his saliva on his dick, slick and hot. You pump slowly and you hear Jason whimper against your shoulder. His uninjured arm gripping against your counter, his knuckles turning white. “Does this feel good, baby boy?”

Jason whines at the name. You keep the slow pace, pumping his length up and down through his pants. “Yes. So– so good.” He says through broken moans. 

With your free hand, you grab a fistful of his curls again and pull him back. Your entire body pressing into his. You suck at his neck as you continue to stroke him, Jason gasping and moaning wantonly into the air. He visibly shuddered and involuntarily bucked his hips up into your hand. 

You stayed like that for a while. Leaning against him as you stroked his dick with slick and languid pumps. You could tell it started to become too much for him. He bucked his hips faster and he squeezed his eyes shut. He looked so pretty like this, coming undone under your touch. It was all you. You who made him whine and whimper like a bitch in heat. You who marked your territory on his neck. It was you. 

“Are you close?” You ask into his ear. He groaned and his body shuddered again as he nodded. It was the only way he was able to respond. “Yeah? Am I making you feel good?” You squeezed his length tighter.  Jason’s entire face was flushed red and he squeezed his eyes shut in response. He nodded again while his chest heaved. 

“So pretty. You're so pretty like this, baby.” You tell him in the same low and sultry voice. “Who knew you’d be such a slut? Moaning under my touch like some whore.” 

Jason whined again, his moans getting louder. You knew he was close. You wanted nothing more than to see him come undone– to see his chest heave up and down and his jaw unlatch as you pumped his hard cock. 

“M’close…so close.” Jason blurted out between grunts. With a few more tight and firm strokes, you feel a hot liquid spill onto your fingers. Jason cums just as you imagined, breathing heavy as he moaned your name like a prayer, his jaw becoming slack as his chest heaved. It was so beautiful. You wanted to remember this image in your mind forever. He doesn’t speak. Instead you pull back from him and take your hand out of his pants. You make sure he’s watching you before you take your cum riddled fingers into your mouth. Slowly, you lick all of the white substance off your hand. You both keep eye contact as he watches you with low and dark eyes.  

The sight of you made him want you even more, but alas he was too weak from his orgasm to move and or form a coherent thought. You press another kiss to his cheek. He shivered again at the contact. 

“You’re so good for me.” You whispered. You kiss his lips softly, “...So pretty.” 

[captjprice]

John Price x Medic!Reader

a/n: this fic sucks honestly. i had to rewrite it THREE times. its so rushed im sorry. next smut WILL be better.

warnings: smut, p in v sex, fingering, quickie, on the desk, poor desk, exhibitionism??, light dom/sub, Price is so sweet,

When Price saw you for the first time, he could barely get the words out of his mouth to greet you. He was in total awe of you, your pretty face and your cute figure. How had such a sweetheart been assigned to treat him? He couldn't help but smile as you spoke sweetly to him. "Please, sit down, Captain."

Price knew the way you acted and spoke wasn't meant to elicit such a reaction from him— You were simply a bubbly personality. Yet, something nagged him with the thought that you knew exactly what you were doing. He tried to push those thoughts, (and many others), aside. Especially in moments like when you tended to the wound on his bare chest, and he could see your cheeks flushing from the close proximity. It made him grin, and shift his position to hide the hard-on growing in his pants.

He knew he had to do something about it, because the mutual attraction between the both of you made every room hot and humid. And he couldn't just keep satisfying himself with a quick palming under the desk.

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

You sat in the treatment facility, chatting around with Tara, one of the other medics on base. It wasn't often you had time to chat, but the business had died down. Just when the topic of the Captain came up, he walked through the door. He usually did so daily around the same time, claiming he had 'orders' to check up on you, but you knew better.

You also knew that the way he looked at you wasn't just friendly. Couldn't have been. Tara watched with a sneaky smile, then headed off to treat one of the soldiers, Antonio, in the next room. Tara obviously knew about the two of you, you could cut the tension with a knife.

Price walks in, obviously trying to look casual as he stepped closer to you. You bat your lashes at him, and he quirks up a brow in amusement. "What's with you, love? Lookin' at me like that?" He muses, brushing a piece of stray hair behind you ear. "What? Like what?" You tease, tilting your head. "Little devil," He mutters under his breath before clearing his throat. "Listen, sweetheart. Gotta talk to you. In my office, it's important."

The way he says it makes you worry, like you've done something wrong. "Oh, everything okay?" You ask, furrowing your brows together. He nods, just making a motion for you to follow him, and you do just that. "Everything's alright, just wanted to have a talk, yeah?" He says, and you answer with a hum. He lets you into his office with a mutter of 'lady's first,' then sits down at his desk with a groan.

"Alright, love. I know there's no beating around the bush about it, so i'll say it. You're.. distracting." His words cause your eyes to widen, and you clear your throat. "What?" You blurt. "I don't know if you even realize it, but you drive me up the wall sometimes, touching me and talking all sweet." He mutters, light frustration lacing his tone. Your cheeks turn red, and you just stare at him. You were flirting with him, obviously. But you didn't think he'd get so.. bothered by it.

"I mean it. And i'd like to take you out sometime, if you'll have me." He finished, standing up and walking over to you. "Hm?" He hummed. You snapped out of your daze, nodding along. "Oh, yeah. Yes. I'd love that." You mumbled, mind totally elsewhere as his hand cupped your chin. "You're such a pretty lass," He mused, leaning closer. His gaze flickered to the door, making sure it was fully closed. You practically melted into his grip, whispering a shy "Thank you," back to him.

He finally decided to make a move if you wouldn't, leaning closer and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was sloppy and needy, like he didn't care about taking his time. He pulls back for a moment to catch his breath, staring at you lovingly. "You do want this? Right?" He whispered, making sure he wasn't acting out on a whim here. You nod, cheeks flush. He also nods, his lips pecking yours chastely before moving down your jaw, all the way to your collarbone.

His hands fiddled with the top of the nurse uniform, unbuttoning it and sliding it off as quickly as he could. He needed you, and he was making it real obvious. You whine as he kisses down your cleavage, sucking a dark mark right between your breasts. The noise makes him grin, and he pulls back to hoist you up, placing you on the desk. His lips are back on your skin, his hands absently fiddling to unclip your bra. When he's finally able to toss it to the side, he groans. You were so beautiful, and he was going to absolutely ruin you. "You're perfect, love. Absolutely perfect, and all for me." He says quietly, his mouth running over your breast and toying with your nipple.

A whimper leaves your mouth, and your thighs press together as a shameful reminder of your arousal. "Someone will hear," You manage to say as John continues to grope you. "So?" He says lowly, pushing you further back on the desk, not even turning his gaze when one of the photographs fall to the floor. His hands pull down your skirt and panties at the same time, leaving them hanging at your ankles. His hands trail over your bare thighs, making it's way to your dripping cunt. "Mmh," You whimper as he pushes your legs open, letting his fingers tease across your inner thighs. 'You're sure, right?" He asks again, and you nod. "Please," You mumble, and he obliges, letting his fingers slide across your folds. He whispers out a curse as he feels just how wet you are, and his thumb flicks across your clit. You squirm, your legs jolting a little from the sudden touch. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside of you.

You let out a shameful moan, and you hope to god nobody is outside of his office right now. "John," You whisper absentmindedly, squirming as he begins to pump his fingers into you. "Fuuuck, you're tight. Can't wait to have you clench around me like that." He whispers, his free hand squeezing your breast. You don't reply— You're too lost in the feeling of his fingers inside of you, holding onto the desk like your life depends on it. The pressure and arousal builds, and you throw your head back, trying to grab onto Price's wrist so maybe he'll slow down, but he just slaps your hand away.

"Mmh, close, I.." You whine, and he just shushes you. "I know, love. You're doing so well, aren't you?" He whispers, only speeding up. The pitch of your moans get higher, and his hand comes up to caress your cheek. He can tell you're about to come undone— His hand places itself over your mouth to muffle the loud noise when you do. Your legs tremble, and he continues to pump his fingers through your orgasm. He removes his hand when you've quieted down, placing a little kiss to your forehead. "You did so good, sweetheart. That was only to get you ready." He mumbles, unbuckling his belt.

Despite how quick it all was, he was so caring. "You okay, love? Think we can continue?" He asked sweetly, caressing your knee. After a moment of heavy panting, you nod. He unzips his pants, stepping closer and pulling himself out of his pants. Fuck, he was huge. He took his cock in his hand, pumping himself a few times. "Oh, am I gonna enjoy this.." He mused, letting his tip slide along your folds. You whimpered, sick of the teasing. "John, please.." You whispers. He grins lazily, placing his tip at your entrance. Slowly, Price pushes himself inside of you, careful to not hurt you. "You're doing so good, lovely." He cooed, his thumb rubbing circles onto your hips.

He stopped when almost fully in, giving you a moment to adjust. "You just let me know when you're alright, hm?" He hums, staring down at you. You nod after a minute, and he slowly starts moving. You've never felt so full, you're sure of it. Your eyes flutter closed as you take in the sensation, and his thumb continues to rub circles onto your hips. "You feel even better than I expected, love." He groans, speeding up a little. You know you should be quiet— It's his office and if you get caught you'll both have a big problem. But he's so big, and you can't help but let a few moans spill from your mouth. "F-.. Oh, fuck, John, faster..-" You whine out, your hand finding his shirt and trying to pull him closer.

"Mmh, you'll have to be quiet." He grunts, speeding up to a pace that's almost animalistic— The hand that was rubbing your hips are gripping now, his fingers digging into your plush skin as he thrusts into you. Your noises only get louder along with the sound of skin slapping on skin. "Fuck," He moans, reaching forward to place his hand over your mouth again when you get too loud for his liking. You're close, you can feel that same pleasure building in your lower abdomen. When Price leans forward to bite into your shoulder to stifle his own sounds, you come undone, your legs wrapping around his waist as you practically see stars.

It doesn't take him long to come after that, lazily thrusting into you a few more times before he bottoms out in you, coming inside. Your legs twitch, and you let out a soft whine. "John.." He pulls out, panting heavily. "Fuck, you're amazing. Heavensent, love." He whispers to you, leaning forward to give you a chaste kiss. "You alright?" Price asks, noticing you just hazily looking at him. You nod, and he grins. "Mmh, how about you head to my quarters and step into the shower, yeah? I'll join you in a moment." He says sweetly, and you nod again, pulling up your panties and skirt on wobbly knees.

[morganbritton132]

Ahh I love your emtts I catch up on every day like it's my evening newspaper 😂 Speaking of I just saw the response where you mentioned Robin and Steve saying hi to their FBI agents and that's hilarious

Like the idea that Robin and Steve are so used to being bugged that they say hi to the FBI, Steve is vehemently against Alexa, doesnt have much of a social media presence (aside from Facebook) and is still futile trying to stop Eddie from breaking his NDA because Eddie may only have one Steve signed FOUR is so funny in the context of this au where Eddie just tells tiktok Steve has mommy issues 😂 The contrast is just so funny to me

But anyway. I absolutely love your au and all the details you've put into it and I hope you don't feel too much pressure when you get responses like this. Hope you have a good day

No pressure felt at all! I absolutely love being sent stuff like this. I think it’s so cool that people pick up on little world building things and expand on them because those are my favorite things to write. I’ve always found something really fascinating about grounding a character into a realism that’s just kinda mundane. I think it’s neat and I think it’s cool that other people see it and seem to like it.

It's like the saga has it’s own fandom and I love it.

After Starcourt, Steve and Robin started signing off their phone calls with “Bye Steve/Bye Robin/Bye FBI agent bugging my phone” because sometimes there was this weird staticky sound on the line when they talked.

And sure, maybe it was because the mall fire caused significant damage to the power grin and everything was flickering and staticky that summer. Maybe it was Steve’s second concussion of the year still ringing around his head. It’s funnier to imagine that it’s an FBI agent sitting in some hot sweaty van listening to them talk about girls and minimum wage jobs.

“Holy shit,” Steve said one night, cutting Robin off in their ever-depressing job search. “We’ve talked about girls.”

“Uh, yeah? Did you forget?”

“That means that you came out to me and the FBI, Buckley.”

Steve actually told Robin that the FBI monitors them for a bit after every Upside Down event. They patch you up and give you an NDA, and then they watch you for a while to see if you’re a traitor to your country. That’s just common sense.

Dustin overheard him and said that this was real life and not a bad spy movie. Steve was just being paranoid.

Steve’s just like, “Oh yeah, if I’m so paranoid then why was there a weird van in the school parking lot when I l picked you up from your nerd club? That’s classic FBI.”

“You mean Eddie Munson’s van???”

Eddie signed the NDA but he’s never taken it seriously.

The first thing he did after he left the hospital was write a song about Vecna. He still preforms that song to this day. The artwork for their first album cover was a drawing of a demo-bat. That album sold over two million records.

Eddie’s never had a secret that he hasn’t told. Sometimes Eddie starts talking and he doesn’t know what’s going to come out and other times, he outs his husband’s mommy issues to his audience of six million.

Eddie will start a live stream like, “Ask me anything, I’m an open book.”

Steve’s just like, “Babe.”

“Sorry, Steve said I’m not allowed to be an open book.”

 

(Side note: It is very important to me that the only social media that Steve has is Facebook because (1) it’s a mom’s social media and (2) it’s unsecure as fuck. Not only is Facebook spying on you but it’s selling information. I just think it’s so funny that Steve won’t get an Alexa but he’ll give all his pictures and location to Mark Zuckerberg.)

[zelphin124]

DreamTale Short Story

This is the prize for the honorable mention, @cakesmelons from the SeasonTale Creative Challenge! Apologies it took so long to get to.

My writing commissions are still open! (If you can, please commission. I'm digging into emergency funds right now.)

Enjoy!

___________________________________

"He's not getting any better."

Killer paced outside the big black door, his hands squeezing his skull together. He was panicking, and he didn't know what to do.

Dust came out with a list of things the boss would need, but none of them were obtainable anytime soon.

Horror did his best to slave in the kitchen, but the boss would barely eat anything.

In fact, he had been sick for weeks. Nightmare couldn't get out of his bed without throwing a heap of coughs. The gang had never seen him like this before, and it worried them. It was so bad that all missions and plans were cancelled week after week. Even Killer started to get bored. But all of them were concerned for their boss.

"What are we going to do?" Horror was the most concerned about Nightmare out of the three. He barely ate and slept just like the boss, all to make sure he was okay.

"Nothing we have is working," Dust flipped through his list again. "Everything that we would need is out of stock in the AUs we've been to... we've stolen it all."

"So then we go to more AUs and get more medicine!" Killer hissed, stopping his pacing. "We find more of it, and give it to boss..."

"It's not working!" Horror cried. "He's just gotten worse..."

"We need blue bone fiber," Dust said. "But... no one has it."

"The last time I saw it was when we were fighting the Star Sanses," Killer sighed. "There's no way they would give some to us..."

There was a moment of silence as Nightmare hauled a dozen or so coughs that echoed inside his room. Each cough hurt the trio's souls worse and worse. Although Nightmare could sometimes be cruel and unnerving, he was still their boss... and he took them in and cared for them.

"What if they did give it to us?" Horror proposed.

Dust's face looked like he just got hit by a baseball bat. "The heck you mean, 'what if'? They would never!"

"They might," Horror argued. "This is Nightmare we are talking about... didn't Dream have some sort of attachment to him?"

"Duh, they're brothers," Killer rolled his eyes as his soul flickered. Black tears started to drip down his skull. "But that was like, 500 years ago-"

"But what if he still cared for Nightmare?" Horror continued. "Surely, we could convince him to give us some medicine to help his sick brother."

"And give away the info that he's deathly ill to our enemies? Are you out of your mind?!" Dust hissed, throwing his clipboard on the ground. "Think with your brain for once!"

Killer pulled on Dust's shoulder, holding him back. "Actually..." he put his phalanges to his chin. "We could... manipulate Dream."

"We've tried that before and it didn't work," Horror shook his head. "I say we tell him upfront we need his help."

"You two are insane," Dust pushed Killer away from him. "They. Would. Not. Help. Us."

"Dream tends to be more deceivable when Swap and Ink aren't with him..." Killer smirked. "And he goes to visit that weird stump often."

"Maybe we could catch him there..." Horror added. "And we should be honest with what we need."

"Eh, who needs honesty when we have knives?" Killer smirked, pulling one out of his pocket and twirling it before walking away. "Come on, I'm sure he'll be there tonight!"

Dust's head bellowed with smoke coming out of it before he shouted in frustration, following after Killer. He seemed to be in an argument with himself again, despite him claiming it was his brother.

Horror sighed, hoping beyond hope that this would work. He creaked open the door to his boss' chambers.

Nightmare's eyes were glazed over as he stared at the ceiling. His hands were properly folded across his chest, and he looked unnaturally gray. He didn't have enough energy to sit up when he coughed, which slowly suffocated him. Thankfully, Killer sat him up earlier when he was asleep, but it only helped a little.

Horror mouthed some comforting words to his boss and to himself before he closed the door and bounded after the others. This has to work... his chest ached with anxiety. I don't know what I would do if it doesn't...

* * *

The gentle ray of sunshine looked so dim in the dark clouds. His light wasn't as bright when he stared at the stump in a forgotten land. Oftentimes, he would mutter words unbeknownst to anyone else. Sometimes, onlookers could catch him crying.

Dust had difficulty keeping Killer quiet as they sneaked up to Dream. It took everything in Killer to not giggle from excitement. The grin on his face was one of a girl getting to buy her favorite doll.

Dust hated it.

Horror thought it was amusing.

The more Killer smiled and laughed, the most Dust threatened to push him out in the open, away from the bushes. Horror encouraged Dust not to. They were close to sneaking up on Dream. One wrong move, and their plans might be screwed.

"I'm sorry, mother," The voice of Dream stopped them in their tracks. Expect for Killer's giggling. Apparently, everything was funny to him.

"I am doing my best to protect the balance, but it's hard..." Dream sighed. "People don't have hope anymore, and it weakens me..."

Before Horror could stop Dust, he pushed the laughing Sans out into the open, cursing at him.

Dream spun around, wiping his face as he observed Killer. His eyes widened, and he summoned his bow.

"Woah woah woah," Killer glared at Dust in the bushes before slowly approaching the ray of sunshine. "No need to shoot that, I'm not here to fight."

"Then what are you here to do, Killer?" Dream glared, extending his bow with each step Killer took.

"Hey can we not just talk? Not everything's gotta be about fighting ya know?" Killer bowed playfully, one of his hands gripping a knife behind him. "It's not like I'm going-"

"What do you want, Killer?"

Killer shrugged and sighed like a kid before standing up straight. "I know you still care about your brother."

Dream's grip on his bow loosened. He seemed taken aback. "W-What do you mean?"

"Come on now, I know you still spare him in battles. I see how you fight him; I see how you hold back."

"He's taking too long..." Dust whispered. "We need that blue bone fiber fast... Nightmare skipped his other medicine."

Horror shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he should go up and be honest, unlike Killer's stalling.

"It doesn't matter if I hold back or not," Dream sighed. "I still will stop you!"

"If you wanted to stop us, you would have already," Killer shrugged. "Now, I've come to make an offer. One that... I don't think you can refuse."

"What offer is he talking about?" Dust hissed.

Horror shrugged. He too, had no idea.

Dream glanced over at the bushes where Dust and Horror were hiding. His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he lowered his bow. "What... offer?"

"Tell you what, Dreamy," Killer took another step up the hill. "How about we end this lil war of ours? Let's make a deal, and neither of us have to suffer."

"What's the catch?" Dream asked.

Horror couldn't wait any longer, Killer was taking too long. He sprang up from the bush and ran over to where Killer was. "We need blue bone fiber!"

Dream took a step back in surprise, before narrowing his eyes at the two. "Let me guess, Dust is with you too?"

"Idiots," Dust hissed as he casually trailed behind.

Dream shook his head and backed away. "Nuh uh, I ain't getting ambushed by you three-"

"We are not here to fight, Dream," Horror sighed. "Nightmare is sick... very sick... it's why you haven't seen us."

"We need the blue bone fiber to heal him, stat." Dust added.

Horror watched the conflicting emotions swirl in the sunshine's eyes. So he does still care, huh.

"That... makes sense," Dream whispered.

"I was getting there, guys!" Killer rolled his eyes. "I was striking a deal!"

"Nightmare wouldn't agree to a deal without his permission!" Dust barked.

"To save his life, he might!"

"That's not-"

"Boys," Dream interrupted them. "Look, I understand the dire of your situation. I can give Nightmare the blue bone fiber that I have... on one condition."

"Anything," Horror answered before the others could speak.

"I will go give him the fiber."

"Ain't no way," Dust shook his head. "Boss would not be happy about that."

Killer laughed. "So, you can kill him with your positivity?"

"I wouldn't kill him," Dream sighed. "I just... wish to see him again. If he's not so busy trying to kill me... maybe he will just hear me out..."

"You can give it to him," Horror answered. "Anything to save his life."

Dream stared at Horror for a long time before he smiled softly. "I'm glad he has you guys. You care about him... You risked coming to me to save him, it shows a lot. Thank you for... taking care of him all this time."

"Oh whatever," Dust sighed. "Can you give him the blue bone fiber already?"

"I will go grab it, and I'll meet you at the castle." Dream replied.

"Well hurry up," Dust hissed as he dragged Killer by the arm. "Your brother doesn't have long."

* * *

"He's in there."

Dream nodded softly before following Horror into Nightmare's room. The sunshine winced as he came in direct contact with negativity. It didn't slow his pace, however. He had a mission to save his brother, regardless if the murder trio liked it or not.

Nightmare's hands shook as Dream got closer. "What... are you... doing here..."

Horror found it intriguing that Dream remained silent as he crushed the blue bone fiber in the bowl. He sat on the edge of the bed and slowly fed it to Nightmare, the negative unable to resist.

"What did you... do..."

"Blue bone fiber," Dream answered his brother. "It will heal you within the next two days or so."

Boss seemed bewildered, and his eyes barely opened as he glanced at Dream. "W... why?"

"I..." Dream paused, wiping his teary eyes again. "I don't want to fight anymore. I miss my brother... I just want to have peace with you..."

Nightmare's breath was shaky as he tried to swallow the remaining fiber. "You... missed me?"

"I've always missed you," Dream sighed. "I never liked fighting you. I just did so you would stop killing people..."

"I..."

"But that doesn't matter right now," Dream continued. "I want you to get better, and I want you to recover and be okay. I care about you..."

Horror watched as Nightmare's weak hand barely touched Dream's.

"... I... care about you... too..."

Dream had to hold in his positive feelings of reassurance and resolution as he grasped Nightmare's hand. "I'll be here for you, brother."

Nightmare coughed again. "Go... now..."

Dream nodded and squeezed his brother's hand one more time before stepping towards the door, Horror following close behind. He couldn't help but notice a small smile on his boss' face before shutting the door. He sighed softly as he glanced at Dream. "Thank you, I don't know how to repay you."

The widest smile covered Dream's face as he brushed his arms and cried happy tears for the first time in a while.

"No, thank you."

[witch-and-her-witcher]

Chapter Fifteen

nessian | E | marriage of convenience, first hybern war AU, angst, whump, emotional slow burn

War brings them together, a bond binds them - but is that enough for two broken people to find love with each other?

Thank you @popjunkie42-blog and @wilde-knight for your beta reading and handholding. <3

For my darling @asnowfern!

Ao3 | Chapter 15/30

~*~

The smell of sex is obvious on them even to Nesta’s human nose as they descend the stairs sometime later. She’s wearing a more appropriate gown, ignoring Cassian’s complaints about hiding her backside from him.

The room falls silent as they enter and take seats alongside each other. 

Nesta primly ignores the ogling from the males as she pours herself a fresh cup of tea, Azriel making a pointed face at his brother, while Elain looks anywhere but in their direction.

“Feel … reconciled?” Azriel asks, stony voice undulating on the last syllable.

“Yes,” Cassian says, with an annoying amount of male pride. “My wife and I are aligned on … matters. That we needed to address. We've been apart for some time and —”

“— that's plenty of explanation on our private discussion,” Nesta cuts in, sipping her tea and razor-sharp gaze on the other hulking bat who is fighting a tremor of amusement.

“It sounded like a thorough enough discussion from here, details would be unnecessary,” Lucien quips.

Nesta and Azriel both glare at him. The Spring emissary is cozied up beside Elain and the audacity is enough to throw Nesta off of his fresh comment, instead clenching her teacup to keep from pushing herself between them and “saving room for the Mother” as Lady Archeron had always tittered at dances.

As she adjusts her seat in annoyance, a rush of hollowed out satisfaction floods upward from her core. It’s a very welcome ache. Welcome enough to ease Nesta’s temper — she decides to let the proximity pass. How can she deny her sister silly flirtations and attention from a handsome male when she has just been taken care of so thoroughly?

Shouldn't she want the same sentiment for her sister?

But the bedroom eyes Lucien has roving over her younger sister … No. No, she doesn't have to want the same for Elain, it's her job to protect her from the wolves — of all shapes and sizes, but especially this suave in nature.

Before she can loosen her sharp tongue on him, Cassian’s low rumble of a voice snaps from her side. “Have you seen to your business, emissary? No need to remain sniffing around.”

The protective edge is plain.

Unused to having back up, Nesta preens. She lets her arm brush against Cassian’s as she plays at fixing her skirts once more. A reward for good behavior.

The bond tightens appreciatively.

Elain frowns, seeming to pick up on the united front, but Lucien settles back into his seat with much more confidence than suits a male facing two mighty Illyrians and an irritated Archeron. “I wanted to ask after the search for the missing Prince of Night while I'm here.”

“Why?” Azriel demands, and Nesta isn't sure how the redheaded male is even still breathing from the time they were away. 

Poor Elain must be exhausted from playing mediator. Maybe that’s why she’s allowing Lucien to get away with —

“Azriel,” Elain coos, “Let the emissary speak. We made an agreement, remember?”

Azriel grumbles but falls back against the wall he's been leaning against without any more fight. The flicker of heat in Elain’s gaze at the submission … 

Oh. 

Perhaps her sister is not so exhausted from the task. It almost appears to be intentional, catching the slightest press of Lucien’s lips in response to the exchange — only there fleetingly before melding back into his courtier’s vapid smirk, but long enough for Nesta’s well-trained eye.

Nesta wonders when Elain became so interested in dancing between two males attentions, but she’s also not blind to how attractive Lucien and Azriel both are.

Lucien flashes his sharp, pearly white teeth in a smile as Elain taps his elbow to continue.

“I ask because as you know, Rhys has history with the new High Lord —”

“— and what has High Lord Tamlin done with that friendship? He's not aided our effort in the least,” Cassian says curtly, dropping into the full military facade. “Our requests for passage through the wall have been denied, requests for information from fae still passing through the open section of the border denied.”

“Have you considered that stomping your feet and making demands like entitled children is why you haven't gotten far? Tamlin values his friendship with Rhys, but he can't afford to let other courts believe they can bully him in his new position because they knew him on the battlefield. He's owed proper respect.”

“The fucking Prince is missing, excuse us if we don't want to sit down for tea and shove Spring crumpets up our asses just to put in a request.”

Lucien’s russet eye flares with indignation. “There are protocols for a reason. We are trying to gain some semblance of stability in the shitstorm of post-war ruling. Remind me again which part of your land was used as a killing field for years and was then sawed apart to appease a Treaty that somehow didn't loosen any land from the tight fists —”

“What information do you want in exchange, Lucien?” Nesta asks with an eyeroll. These males are doing everything in their power to chase away her post-orgasmic bliss. “I can't listen to this pissing contest.”

The tension in Lucien’s shoulders releases and he smiles around a centering sip of tea. His half golden gaze flicks between Nesta and Cassian.

“If the High Lord of Night would meet with the High Lord of Spring —”

“No chance.”

Lucien shrugs indifferently, but the muscles in his jaw coil. “Alright then. I would expect more of the same if you’re unwilling to play.”

Cassian shoots to his feet, the bond running hot with emotion. “This isn’t a game to play!”

“I’m well aware, which is why I say again, stop acting like entitled younglings.” Lucien slowly rises, as if proving how unflustered he is. “You ask what we need in exchange, and that’s solid allies willing to legitimize Tamlin’s rule after such an unexpected change of power.”

“I will address it with the High Lord,” Azriel cuts in before Cassian can vent his rage further. His expression has gone unsettlingly still, his shadows look poised to fight over his shoulders.

Elain wrings her hands in her lap.

“What in the hell is all this ruckus?” 

read more

[breannasfluff]

Don't Touch

Sky hums as he carves, slowly turning the piece of wood in his hands. Wood shavings fall to his lap where he periodically brushes them away. Beneath his knife, a loftwing is emerging. He’s carved plenty of them by now, but the form is soothing. It reminds him of his Zelda.

He runs light fingers over the wood, feeling for sharp edges to round out. A yelp from the firepit shows Warriors yanking his slapped hand away from where Wild’s frying bread in a thick pan.

The newest hero is slowly settling into the group, but he’s still standoffish around some of them. Wild gets along with Hyrule and Legend, with a surprisingly high tolerance for sharp remarks. Twilight and the Champion spin around each other; coming closer and breaking apart for no discernible reason. Even Warriors, Wind, and Time had their small moments with him.

No, he and Four seem to be on the outside still. With Four, it seems more like they just don’t cross paths rather than active avoidance. It shouldn’t matter that Sky is being ignored on purpose or not, but it still causes a low aching throb in his chest. Did he do something to scare Wild away or make him uncomfortable?

The more he reaches out, the more the Champion edges away. Often literally—he shies away from hugs or even a pat on the shoulder. Sky’s seen him flop all over Wolfie, though, so he’s certainly comfortable with animals. Even Hyrule sometimes offers a hug that’s accepted. When Sky offers physical affection, though, it’s almost always rebuffed.

His frown deepening at the mystery, Sky continues carving.

Wind is curled up against his side with the sailcloth tucked around him when he catches Wild staring. In the near darkness his eyes glint, almost like an animal. Then the fire flickers and it disappears. Just a trick of the light. The champion is still across the low burning fire, eyes fixed on Sky.

Dinner is long gone and cleaned and some of the Chain already unrolled their sleeping mats. Wind insisted he wasn’t tired and promptly started dozing against Sky. Offering a smile, the Chosen hero gestures for Wild to join them.

He jerks and his eyes dart away. ‘I’m good,’ he signs, although it’s hard to see in the dim light. Wild’s arms wrap around his middle in an imitation hug and Sky stomps on the urge to go gather him into his arms anyway.

Against his side, Wind starts snoring softly. Wild’s gaze slowly drifts back to them and stays, but Sky says nothing further.

The next time Time asks for people to split into groups for tasks, Sky volunteers to join Wild. Maybe time alone will help the hero relax.

They’re in charge of foraging, a task Wild is well-suited to, and Sky…isn’t. His knowledge of food from the land is lacking in comparison to the others. Wild must think so too, because he keeps shooting Sky sidelong glances as they head into the forest.

“I’d like to learn more about foraging,” Sky offers. “I didn’t grow up around it, but I don’t want to be a hindrance to the group.”

Wild nods at that, hands coming up to sign. ‘Knowing how to find food can be the difference between living and dying in the wild.’

It’s not the sort of peril Sky’s adventure contained, but he doesn’t bring it up. “Could you teach me?”

‘Of course!’ Wild brightens at the prospect.

Maybe he should have tried connecting on their shared interests earlier. Well, it wasn’t shared but—he really should learn. And if that means Sky gets to spend time with Wild, all the better.

He looks around as they walk, letting the greenery sink in around him. “Here’s one!” he leans over to grab a mushroom only to have Wild bat at him without touching.

“Poisonous. It’ll irritate your hands.”

Sky rapidly yanks his hands back and tries to fix it in his mind. “Well, what about this?” He points to something sticking half out of the dirt beneath a log.

Wild glances at it before grinning and nodding. “Sure.”

With barely held delight, Sky pulls up his prize and holds out—a rock. He gives Wild a flat look, but the other is grinning. “Ha, ha, very funny.” The rock might be thrown more than tossed, but no one needs to know.

The champion continues, still chuckling to himself. He ranges back and forth from tree to tree, eyes constantly searching. Sky follows, less actively searching as he still isn’t sure what to look for.

The flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye has him reaching out to grab Wild. “Loo—”

Wild jerks back sharply, spinning around with a pained noise. Sky freezes, hand still outstretched. The chipmunk he was going to point to bounds away.

“Sorry?” Sky offers.

Wild blinks and stares for a long moment, then turns and continues.

“Wild? Did I…do something?” How did he manage to mess this up already?

Instead of answering, the Champion cuts to the side and pauses. ‘Here,’ he signs. ‘Wild garlic.’ He pulls out a small knife and starts cutting a bunch.

Sky drops next to him, but he’s got the Master Sword on his back, not a foraging knife. The slate chirps and Wild hands him another knife, careful to keep his fingers clear of Sky when he takes it. It’s like he’s trying to avoid touching—

He stares at the bunch of garlic in his hand, still halfway through cutting. Memories of their time and situation run by rapidly as he thinks. Wild’s Hyrule is emptier than expected, for all he seemed to enjoy the company of those at the stable when they visited.

How often is he around large groups of people like this to engage in casual physical touch? He’d bet good money there were few instances during his hero journey.

Wild clicks his tongue to catch Sky’s attention, frowning at the inaction. Another puzzle piece slides into place; others in the group would reach out and nudge Sky for attention.

With a smile, Sky shakes his head and keeps cutting the plants. The last thing he needs to do is make the Champion uncomfortable. He’ll find a way to ease him into it.

Read the rest here!

[greedcoded]

Nevermore to Grace the Night

hew hew finally publishing the first chap of my self-insert ghoul x dew x oc fanfic! i'll be cross-posting it (for now, until I get tired of it) on here and ao3!

I: The Piercing Radiant Moon

WC: 1762

Warnings: none applicable yet!

AO3 or under the cut!

Hell wasn't all roiling lakes of lava and skies of fire; sometimes, it was an eerie void beyond the stars, hiding the worst creatures within.

One minute, a ghoul was adrift in that endless void, caught on that hairline edge between wakefulness and unconsciousness—the next, a tug. A feeling of being called elsewhere, topside, and a purple mist, glittering with galaxies, nebulae, and starlight surrounded them.

A minute later, they unceremoniously awakened in a small chamber, sitting naked and lit by candlelight in a summoning circle. That same mist surrounded them, the stars and vapor clinging to their skin, trying to sink back into their skin as if it belonged there.

Their eyes darted around, taking in their surroundings as their chest rose and fell rapidly. There was one human who caught their eye right off the bat, clad in blue robes and skeletal face paint, holding a large tome - probably the one who summoned them - and a taller, stocky ghoul beside him. Others were milling about in the shadows, but they didn’t catch the ghoul’s eye as inherently dangerous.

The human with the book moved toward the circle, crouching in front of it just outside the glowing chalk. He didn’t appear to have any…harmful intent. He even smiled, reaching a hand out towards them, like they were a feral animal he was trying to calm.

The ghoul hissed and quintessence crackled reflexively within them; lilac and indigo clouds of stardust and mist swirled in a volatile cloud around them. With their ears pinned flat against their head and their tail thrashing behind them, they did look feral.

The man backed up a little but didn’t appear frightened by their display- and in his place came the ghoul. He was beautiful, by any meaning of the word. Looked like a picture-perfect quintessence ghoul if they had to guess. Soft, deep purple-colored fuzzy skin, short black hair, and a couple of rings adorning his hands. He crouched down as well and sat in front of the ghoul, tail twitching in anticipation behind him.

“Hello, my name is Aether. You’ve been summoned to Earth by the leader of the Church of Satan. He’s the human who has the blue robes on; his name is Papa Emeritus the Fourth, but he prefers his ghouls just call him Copia.” Aether spoke to the new ghoul in their native tongue of Infernal, not wanting to catch them off guard by jumping to English immediately. His voice was soft and accented, yet tired, under it all.

They relaxed a bit, tail curling around their ankle as they tilted their head at Aether. “Why am I here? What purpose was my summoning for?”

Aether sighed, a slightly pained expression on his face as he looked back at Copia. The man shook his head and elicited a sigh from Aether.

“That explanation will come at…another time. Soon though, I promise. For now, you can know that your purpose is to serve Papa as a part of his group of ghouls in the band Ghost, performing his music around the world and spreading our Dark Lord’s message. But, I think other things are more important. Such as giving you a name.”

He stood up and held a hand out to the ghoul in a mirror image of the way Copia had, but they didn’t immediately take it. Their gaze flickered between his outstretched hand and his face, which was sympathetic and kind as he looked back at them. 

Am I really doing this?

They took his hand after a moment of consideration, standing on shaky legs, the stone floor scraping against their paws as they wobbled a little.

“Papa? What do you think this little one should be named?” Aether’s calloused hand dropped theirs once they were standing, and he crossed the room to Copia.

“Their skin and hair- you took notice of the patterns across them, yes? They look like constellations glowing against a twilight sky.” Copia’s eyes sparkled a little as he looked over the ghoul, seemingly taking in every single detail he could. He looked oddly excited to be around a newly summoned hellbeast.

Aether nodded his agreement, looking them over a few times. “I agree. They do look like constellations,” he acknowledged. “What about…Cygnus? It’s one of the most notable summertime constellations, and I think it fits them perfectly for the time.”

Copia tapped his chin and thought it over for a moment before finding the name appropriate. “Yes, I think that fits perfectly. Welcome to the Ministry, dear Cygnus.” He walked toward them, beaming as he opened his arms to them.

The ghoul - no, their name was Cygnus now, they had a name! - hesitated.  They cleared their throat, finding their voice after a moment, making themself remember to use English and not Infernal. This wasn’t the Pit anymore.

“Thank you, Papa. I… hope you made the right choice by summoning me,” Cygnus’s voice came out quieter than they even thought it would be. A cautious wave of quintessence hit them when Aether's tail brushed against their leg, allowing them to relax just a bit more. They tilted their head at him, but he just winked and looked away.

I've never known ghouls to be kind like tha

Copia clasped his hands together, still smiling at them. “I didn't choose, my ghoul; Our Dark Lord below chooses which ghouls to send to Earth. And He never makes a mistake choosing who to send topside.” 

“Now, Aether will take you down to the ghoul’s den and get you cleaned up, along with introducing you to the pack and showing you to your room,” he paused and smiled at Aether. “You’re in good hands, I promise. Don't hesitate to come find me if you ever need anything, eh?”

With that, Aether did exactly what Copia said. There were some clothes nearby in the summoning room, so he deftly helped them get dressed so they wouldn't be exposed on the walk to the den, and he apologized profusely for the way the clothes were ill-fitting.

As Aether led Cygnus through the Abbey, he made small talk, pointing out little things he thought were interesting as they passed them. “Oh! And that painting is of Papa Emeritus III, lovingly named Terzo. He came before Copia, and before Terzo were his brothers Secondo and Primo.”

His voice was wistful as they stopped to look up at the painting, eyes misty as he reminisced.

“He's the one who named me, fun fact. Some church members don't think us ghouls should have names, but he wanted to give us names to humanize us, just a little.” Aether looked back at Cygnus and elbowed them gently in the side “I think he woulda liked you. All the Emeritus brothers have had a soft spot for quintessence ghouls like us.”

Cygnus looked up at the painting as he spoke, their dusty violet cheeks turning a darker shade when he said the previous pope would have liked them.

“Can you tell me about them? The other brothers, I mean,” they added quickly. “They sound interesting…to me. I never heard much about the Emeritus line down in the Pit. Was more focused on surviving than socializing...”

The other ghoul's eyes lit up, his tail wagging slightly behind him. “I'd love to! Let's keep walking though, we're almost to the den and you're a little stinky, my dear. We can talk once I get you in the bath.”

Cygnus’s tail twitched as they made an unamused face, looking away from Aether and following close to his side as he led them to the den.

Eventually, the two came upon a large wooden door, words inscribed in gold lettering of Infernal in the middle. Ghoul Den. “Aaand here we are! Not much pizzazz on the outside, but I promise it will feel like home to you soon enough.” Aether pushed the door open and revealed a comfortable central room, with various couches and armchairs scattered about. The room showed obvious signs of being lived in, with bookshelves and tables covered in knick-knacks and personal belongings over the room and walls. Plus, a few hastily painted scorch marks and claw gouges, but they didn't question that. Ghouls will be ghouls.

On one of the couches sat a ghoulette, a cloud of white hair floating around her as she engrossed herself in something on her lap.

“Oh, you’re still up ‘Lus?” Aether asked as the two of them walked up to the couch. She perked up, hair floating through the air as she looked at the two ghouls who had entered. Cygnus slid behind Aether again, not sure if they wanted to be seen by another ghoul. Air ghouls could be two-faced beings of chaos in Hell.

“What’s it look like? Cirrus was helping Sunshine settle last I checked, but I have no idea if they’re awake. I wasn’t tired so..” she said as she gestured down to her lap, where an intricate cross-stitch project was underway.

Aether peered over her shoulder to look at her lap. “Well, I happen to have a surprise behind me~” he sing-songed, moving to the side to reveal a wide-eyed Cygnus to her. 

Cumulus’s face broke out in a grin, and she was up in an instant. “New ghoul! Finally, I was wondering what took that old man so long to summon you!” Cygnus was surprised by her enthusiasm and welcoming personality, Are they all like this? they thought.

The ghoulette took their hands in hers and squeezed them. “I’m Cumulus, one of the air ghouls here. We’ve all been dying to have our other ghoul home all day, and here you are! Sunshine will want to meet you soon, too, since you were summoned right after her,” the ghoulette babbled, so bubbly and excited for an air ghoul.

Aether waved a hand in front of Cumulus’s face to get her attention, “Cumulus, I know you're excited, but let's give them some space, yeah? You can talk more if you help me get them cleaned and properly dressed.”

Cumulus dropped Cygnus’s hands in an instant, a sheepish smile on her face as she rubbed the back of her neck. “My bad, my bad. I'm always excited about new summons. But! I will be happy to help get them cleaned up.”

I like her, Cygnus thought as Cumulus and Aether led them to the communal bathroom to clean the void from them. She’s not a predator like the ones I saw back home.

I wonder if they're all like this? It's so nice and warm and…so familiar.

[lady-de-mon-coeur]

Kiss addiction

Ao3

Rated T. Words: 828. Language: English.

Summary: Ladybug can't do without kissing her Chaton at every possible opportunity.

A/N: another one EXTREMELY self-indulgent fic of mine. No lesson to learn, no character development. Just smoochies.

It has been a few weeks since Ladybug initiated this.

It was just a brief, shy brushing of their lips at first. So brief that you could have easily mistaken them for the fruit of your imagination.

It started one day at the end of a patrol, when they were about to leave for home.

Their usual la bise suddenly seemed not enough for Buguinette anymore. So, after having backed away from him and contemplated him for a few moments, she stepped forward, and suddenly her lips passed so close to his that Chat Noir would have believed that she actually wanted to kiss him.

"What was that, my lady?" Chat Noir asked, blinking in confusion.

"What was what, Chaton?" Ladybug batted her eyelashes at him with such genuine surprise that he preferred to act as if nothing actually happened.

"Um… nothing. Nevermind." Chat Noir mumbled, not knowing how to react.

***

Maybe he just missed some social cues. Maybe that's just the kind of thing best friends and partners usually do to each other.

But then Ladybug started getting more bold with each passing day.

Chat Noir couldn't help but notice her staring longingly at him.

Her eyes kept flickering down to his lips every now and then.

She was sucking and biting her bottom lip, as if in anticipation of tasting something extremely delicious.

Sometimes she stuck out the tip of her tongue to lick her lips.

That was a mesmerising view to see his lady so smitten.

As if she had become addicted to kisses.

As if his lips were a candy she couldn't get enough of.

***

Soon, very soon, it didn't seem like la bise anymore.

They weren't simple pecks.

They were actual full-blown kisses now.

Soon she started doing it not only after their patrols but also before them.

During them.

After their famous "pound it!".

During akuma attacks.

As soon as she met him to take care of a villain.

Soon there wasn’t an occasion in which she didn't try to steal a kiss.

She was getting more and more greedy and thirsty.

The kisses were becoming more and more fiery and sensual. As if she wanted to eat up his lips.

Chat Noir didn't say anything. He asked nothing.

He knew he should, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it for the life of him. He didn't even know exactly why.

Perhaps he was too scared that if he did, all this would somehow turn out to be a dream.

So he continued to go with the flow, wondering where it would bring him.

Her lips were all sugary, and her lip balm tasted differently every day.

One day it was strawberry.

Sometimes it was cherry.

Peach.

Raspberry.

Vanilla.

Chocolate.

But the most important thing was that underneath all these flavours, there were always her hot and soft lips, capturing his with a demanding and passionate kiss.

If all that were just a dream, he wished he would never wake up.

This profusion of kisses was intoxicating him. He was definitely getting addicted to kisses as well.

***

And then that day has come.

She called him and told him to meet her at the top of the Eiffel Tower. But instead of talking to him, as he'd been expecting, she spent a whole hour kissing him senseless.

"My lady," Chat Noir murmured with his kiss-swollen lips when they paused for a minute to catch their breath. He felt a little dizzy, as if he were drunk on his lady's kisses. "What was that you wanted to talk to me about?"

"What?" Ladybug asked, sounding like a spoiled child, licking her plump lips, apparently going to resume their interrupted make-out session.

"Not that I mind doing what we're doing here, but I thought there was some emergency when you called me."

"There was an emergency," Ladybug purred, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and looking at him mischievously from beneath half-closed eyelids. "I was dying to see you, Chaton."

Chat Noir gasped. How could she say this to him so easily?

Ladybug didn't let him dwell too much on this by suddenly moving closer to sit on his lap, something she's never done before.

"Mon Chaton," she cooed, tugging slightly at his locks. "Mon minou", she whispered, poking his bell and making it ring. "Silly kitty," she murmured, placing her fingertip on his lips.

Her features suddenly twitched, as if she were struggling with a toothache. Her cheeks bloomed the brightest pink Chat Noir has ever seen. Her fingers started trembling feverishly. Chat Noir could hear her breath becoming uneven.

She clutched his shoulder as if she were drowning.

When Chat Noir leaned closer to take a careful look at her, much to his surprise, there were tears glistening in her eyes.

"My lady," he said worriedly, not knowing what could've come over her.

But then she opened her mouth to speak.

"I'm madly in love with you, Chaton."

[karisomk]

Professor Tenoch AU

This is just humor.

"Bro, I don't know why you're bugging right now. Just ask for a extension. Professor Tenoch is really nice."

Your eyes flickered close while you rubbed your forehead and neck gently, trying to do anything to cease the hangover. Placing the cold bottle of gingerale to your forehead, you shook your head in response.

"Noooo...I just can't. I gotta take the loss on this assignment. I have to, I can't lie to him when he looks at me. Sometimes I just feel like he knows. Like last time, when I told him I was having internet issues but we ended up just binging a show on Netflix."

Your friend chuckles softly, "Hey thats on you. I told you to stop posting everything but you just had to show off your pajamas that day and rant about HER. You gotta change your view settings, girl."

You snorted in response and rolled your eyes, but you bite your bottom lip. "Besides I think this time... he might of saw our insta story from last night."

"That video of you with your mouth open drinking Sake from that squirt bottle with Chef?"

Your friend bursted out laughing and shook your shoulder, you grew even more embrassed.

"It's not funny-!"

This only made your friend laugh harder before she tried catching her breath.

"Listen, you're a adult. So what? I mean I guess I would be kinda mortified too, if my professor saw me open mouth chugging sake from a squirt bottle with a hibachi chef who was amazed you didn't spill any and dranked it all. You had the chef shook, more so when you licked your lips afterwards."

"Shush! Why are you so loud?!" You huffed at her.

"You're only overthinking about cause you think Professor Tenoch is fine. I wonder has he figured out some of your vague horny posting is about him." Your friend bluntly pointed out while she batted her eyes.

"You are still so loud right now! Friend, you gotta lie for me. Please tell him I got sick or something. Something!" You whined. Your friend simply side-eyed you while crossing her arms over her chest, sucking her teeth in response. "Oh please, like he'll listen to me anyway. All you gotta do is go in there and give him those sad eyes you do all the time when you're nervous about your grade. He'll listen." "I- I do not do that. But please don't leave me!" You watch your friend scurry away even while you huff, she only laughs some more in response.

"And that's why your laugh sounds like an empty spray bottle!" You yelled after her. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ You procrastinated about seeing Professor Tenoch after your classes, even avoiding his gaze while you were in his class. Those light brown eyes made your heart flutter, but always made you spill the truth to him. Those disappointed looks from him always hurt more than seeing him slightly annoyed. With a slow exhale, you knocked on his classroom door a hour before it was time for him to leave. "Yes, come in." You peak in with a sheepish grin, "Hey, Professor Tenoch. I.. wanted to speak to you." He flashed a small smile and beckoned you to come in, "Well we still have some time and I wanted to ask you if everything was okay? You looked very tired in class today."

You nodded at first, taking a seat across from his desk, "Everything is fine just wasn't feeling too well today. I-I wanted to ask you if I could talk about the assignment that was due today." "Mhm, what about it?" Your stomach fluttered and your chest burned from being nervous, willing yourself to lie on the spot. You didn't look him recognizing that tone, so you kept your gaze elsewhere. His hands or his hair while you spoke. "I-welll uh. See, I lost my hard drive stick yesterday with all my assignments and I tried looking to see if I had any other backups for it in my email drive on my computer. And it turns out that my cat somehow stole my harddrive stick." "So its very damaged. I was wondering if I could have a few days at least for an extension?" You blurted out. When you finally did look up at him, it was hard to keep a straight face at the way Tenoch held his chin. His slight raised brows and those brown eyes that just saw threw you. Your mouth was going dry and your heart was thumping wildly in your chest. You were a bad liar. A terrible liar. The long silence made things worst and for a second you were about to apologize and just blurt out the truth. But when Tenoch sighed and tapped his pen lightly on the desk, "Fine. Three days. Three. You can turn in your work then. " Your eyes lit up at him buying your terrible excuse and you shot up to your feet. "Thank you! I swear I have it done in three days maybe even two! You are the best!" you beamed. Only running around the desk to hug him lightly, "Alright, alright now go. " he chuckled. Moving to grab your bag and you moved to leave the classroom waving goodbye to him. "Oh and (insert name). " Tenoch said while raising to his feet, and grabbing his own bag. "I didn't know you liked Sake like that." Tenoch flashed a smile and laughed softly when you began to stammer loudly.

[decadentjellojaloppy29]

Taking care of business.

Bo Sinclair x reader.

You decide to go out of town and take care of something. You ask Lester and Vincent not to tell Bo and they agree, that is until Bo comes home. And then there's a police chase. Fun.

Cant help but write this. A fanfic about a movie from 2005 in the year of our lord 2023. It's Bo Sinclair. And just the Sinclair brothers in general, how could I not.

Warnings: Suggestive content, you know the drill. Bo being Bo.

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

It was night. The town of ambrose quiet except for the cicadas that were screeching outside the house. You, Lester and Vincent were inside.

Vincent and Lester sat down at the dining room table playing some sort of card game. The dining room light flickering slightly. The whole house having a comfortable silence falling over it. Suddenly you hop down the stairs with a backpack and a determined look on your face.

You step into the dining room, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter top. "What's that?" Vincent signs, looking at your bag.

"I'm gonna tell you in case I need backup BUT you cannot by any means tell Bo." You tell them.

"This sounds bad." Lester says, taking his hat off to scratch his head.

"If there's any uncertainty I won't tell you." You told them, adjusting the backpack on your shoulder and turning to leave.

Vincent looked to Lester in a panic and Lester called out, "H-hold on there girl." He says grabbing your shoulder. You pause, looking at him.

"Promise we won't tell, you know Vincent's not gonna talk." He said with a wink and crooked grin. Vincent's head dropped to the side not impressed with his brothers joke.

"Ok. I gotta go a town over to catch these two guys and do something to them." You explained, purposefully being as vague as possible.

"Did they do something to you first?" Lester asks.

"Yeah." You answer.

"Well, personally I don't see a problem with it even if it is vague." Lester replied, sitting back down. Vincent raised his hand in question.

"Yes the handsome one in the back." You gestured to the dark haired brother. "Why can't we tell Bo?" Vincent signed shrugging.

You sigh slightly, "Because he'll tell me not to go. That he can do it himself and I can stay home. To keep me from getting hurt and stuff like that and while I appreciate the gesture sometimes you gotta do it for yourself." Lester and Vincent exchanged glances, understanding and nodding to one another.

Vincent leaned back in his chair, the old thing creaking under his weight. "Let's compromise. You call if you get into trouble and we'll keep Bo off your tail." Vincent decided, waiting for your answer. You chewed your lip in thought. Slowly starting to nod, you agreed.

"Les, could I take your truck?" You bat your lashes at him, clasping your hands together while swaying back and forth.

"Aw shucks. If Bo catches you makin eyes like that at me he'll have my ass dead." He warned standing up to get his key, "but that don't mean stop doin it, 'specially when he ain't around."

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, Vincent doing the same, his head resting in his hand. You walk toward Lester and he dropped the keys in your hand.

"Please don't die." Lester clasps his hands together, practically begging you.

"You have my word." You say, lifting your hand in promise. You start to head out the door, stopping in the frame when Lester's voice brings you to a halt.

"W-what d'you want us to tell Bo when he asks where yer at?" He puts his hands up in question.

You think for a second, "Tell him I'm buying something believable. Like beer or a machete or something." You laugh. Lester gives a thumbs up, you return the action before walking out the door. The screen door slamming behind you. Lester walk back over to the table and sits down on the old wooden chair. Jonsey coming up to rest her head on his leg.

"We're gonna get caught for this." Vincent signed to his brother.

Lester shrugged absentmindedly petting Jonsey, "Yeah maybe but did you see the way she looked at me? How could I say no?"

Vincent shakes his head at his brother and sighs, "She looks at everyone that way when she wants something."

"You're just bein' sore cause she don't look at you like that." Lester huffed. His hands going to scratch behind Jonsey's ears. Vincent thought about replying but realizing Lester was kinda right he crossed his arms in frustration and looked the other way.

Meanwhile you were speeding down the dark backroads, the only light coming from your cars janky headlights. The cold air blasting from the vents the radio turned up so loud the car is shaking. You grip the steering wheel tight with one thing on your mind.

Murder.

Haha no but seriously you're really gonna hurt these guys.

Lester and Vincent were still sitting at the table. Vincent now hunched over a drawing, wiping the erasure residue with the back of his hand. Lester is leaned back in his chair with his boots propped up on the table, head hung backward to watch what's happening on the tv. Periodically taking sips of beer. Then the door slams shut.

"Y/n I found a necklace at the workshop s'it yours?" Bo yelled walking inside the house.

Vincent and Lester's heads shoot up at Bo's arrival. Lester looks over at Vincent with a panicked look in his eye. Vincent puts his hands up trying to get his younger brother to calm down. Bo leans down to untie his boots and set a few things down on the stool in the foyer. Standing up straight he whistles to try and get your attention.

"Lester's truck is gone, Vince is probly still workin'. If the necklace ain't yers I could tie yer hands up with it and we could try that thing you were talkin' bout..." Bo says as he walks around the corner. "Hell even if they were in the livin' room we could-" Bo stops once he's in the living room, realizing his brothers are sitting at the table. Looking up at him.

"Whoops." Bo smirked, looking between the two of them. Subconsciously glad he could rub having you in their faces.

Lester and Vincent lifted a hand to greet Bo. Lester's eyes shooting back to the tv, he took a huge swig of his beer. Bo looks at the two of them and makes his way over to the refrigerator.

"Where's y/n?" He askes, grabbing a beer. Lester's eyes widen at the question, he slightly snorts at it causing the beer in his mouth to spill out. Vincent rubs a hand down his face and turns to look at Bo.

"She went to the store to pick up some things, she should be back later, all the stuff she wanted was in a town over." Vincent explained.

"Huh." Bo nodded, taking a sip from the bottle. Bo mosied over to the chair right next to Lester. Lester's eyes burning into the tv, his body becoming stiff as Bo sat next to him. The chair sounding like it's about to break under his jittering body.

"Whatssa matter Les you look like you seen a pair a tits for the first time." Bo chuckles, watching the tv.

Lester scratched the back of his head and without looking away from the tv he answers, "We's just worried bout y/n-"

Vincent's head shoots up to look at Lester, his hands gesturing for him to stop talking. Bo's brows knit together waiting for Lester to finish.

"-wouldn't get more beer. Cause we're almost out and I forgot to ask." He finished, smiling nervously at his brother. Bo looked back at Vincent in question who just shrugged and looked back down at his drawing. Bo looked between his brothers, the air was thick with something but Bo didn't know what. He couldn't put his finger on it but something was up. Lester was pale in the face and was stiff as a board.

You finally got to your destination, your car screeching to a halt. You grab the backpack and hop out of the car. The horn beeps as you lock it and walk through a field. About a block away there was a large barn in the middle of a field. It was lit up with colorful lights and blasting with music. As you neared it more and more cars were parked around the giant barn.

The music making it impossible to hear much else. You grabbed a wrinkled piece of paper from your pocket a license plate number scribbled down on it. You walked slowly past each car trying to find the one that matched. And after a few more minutes of searching you'd found your target. You walk over to the pretty red car and set your backpack on the ground pulling out a knife, you twirl it in your hand and get to work.

Back at the house Lester checks his watch every five minutes or so. His fingers tapping the back of his crossed arms. Bo notices this and leans over to fidgeting brother.

"Whatcha checkin' the watch for Les?" He asks patronizingly.

"Just- just waitin' on those beers y'know." Lester swallows hard hoping the sweat he feels on his forehead isn't as visible as he thinks it is. Vincent looks between the two of them, silently praying Lester wouldn't screw anything up.

"Ya know...its gettin' kinda late, stores are bout ready to close." Bo starts, grabbing Lester's wrist to look down at the watch he had on, "Actually wouldn't ya know it, they closed bout an hour ago." Lester looks up at Bo who is now staring daggers at him. Vincent sinks into himself not realizing how late it actually was. Lester clears his throat and tries to laugh it off.

"Yeah...m- well maybe she's givin' someone directions, you know. Gettin' more people for the town." Lester offers, his smile much too wide for any innocent person.

Bo shrugged, "Yeah maybe...only she knows I don't like her runnin' off and doin' stuff like that on account of I don't much like it when there's a chance she might get killed. So she wouldn't do that. And I trust that you two wouldn't go encouragin' somethin' stupid like that, would ya?" He looks pointedly at Lester, knowing he could break him.

Lester laughs more this time, "Course not we wouldn't do that, Bo."

Bo puts an arm around Lester and scoots closer, "Course not. Cause if you did I'd hafta relieve you of yer testicles."

Lester's eyes are wide and glued to Bo's, he knows these threats aren't empty especially now that your not around. His crooked smile grows shaky as he tried to keep it all together. Vincent is running a hand through his hair at this point, Bo is already onto them what point is there in trying to fix it now. Vincent just stares down at his paper pretending to draw, his hands becoming to shaky to actually draw.

"Lettin' her go off and do it is one thing but if she were to come back hurt," Bo chuckled darkly scooting even closer to Lester, "Then I'd hafta cook yer dog and feed it to ya."

And that was the straw that broke the camels back. Vincent shot his hands out to cover Lester's mouth but by the time his hands gripped him it was too late.

"Y/n went a town over to take care of two guys that did something, I dunno what she wasn't really that specific and she told us not to tell you cause she wanted to do it and she knew you'd tell her no but it was like a revenge mission so it seemed like a good enough reason to me. And I knew you'd threaten me but she looked at me the way she does and I couldn't tell her no. Please don't eat my dog." Lester spewed all of this out, almost too fast to understand. His hands gripped Bo's coveralls and he was on his knees.

Vincent looked up at Bo and shrugged, not really knowing what else to add. Bo nodded, his jaw clenching, his hands now on his hips.

"She tell you specifically where she was headed?" He asked, grabbing the collar of Lester's shirt.

"No but if I had to guess it'd be at a party, somewhere public where she wouldn't get caught." Lester squealed.

"Shit." He spat through gritted teeth. He stomped over to the door grabbing a gun and his hat on the way out. Lester and Vincent looked at each other before chasing after him.

Back at the barn party you'd just finished slashing the tires of the car and were currently having a hayday scratching it up with the knife in your hand. Your tongue stuck out as you concentrated on carving some choice words into the side of the car. You wiped the sweat from your forehead and looked down at your watch.

"Ooo, shit." You realized the time, hoping Bo was working late that night. You figured you should finish up but your plan wasn't done yet. Unzipping the backpack once again you pulled out a bat and hoisted yourself up onto the hood of the car.

"Too bad, it was such a nice car." You tsked, shaking your head. Reeling back with the bat and-

Bo's hands gripped his steering wheel till his knuckles were white. His teeth chewed down on the cigarette he'd put in his mouth but never lit. His eyes never leaving the road ahead. Vincent and Lester sat in the back nervous to say anything.

"There's no reason to get mad at her y'know. I feel like it was personal and it always feels better when you get to hurt em yourself." Lester tried to convince his older brother who very clearly wasn't having it. Bo didn't say a word, his jaw clenched as tight as it could, his gaze could burn forests at this point. Lester looked at Vincent, nodding toward Bo. Vincent shook his head.

"What will it help? He won't even see what I'm saying he Hasn't looked away from the road since we got on it." Vincent signed. Lester wracked his brain for ideas, a finger coming to scratch the bottom of his chin.

"Lemme put it like this, she's already made up her mind. She's doin' what she said she was gonna and it had ta be for a good reason and that means something bad musta happened between her and these guys so do you really think bein' mad at her is gonna help?" Lester tried. Vincent looked over at Lester, and put an encouraging hand on his shoulder. Impressed with his level headed reasoning.

Bo only slammed on the gas faster, his shoulders stiff as he made a sharp turn causing Lester to smash into Vincent.

You'd finally finished smashing the shit out of the cars windows and now it was time for the hurting to begin. You hook up the car to yours and drag it out to the empty field you'd been parked in and set off the car alarms. Bat in hand, lying in wait. Minutes passed until you saw the guys come out of the barn, looking confused at the fact that their car was now missing. You grinned to yourself as you help the binoculars over your eyes. Watching as they became aware of the car alarm going off in the distance. One guy smacked the others should and they both started to run toward the noise.

You lowered the binoculars down and readied yourself. It's you against two but it's also dark and a car alarm will be blocking any noise you make. You're not dumb, you know the drill. The men finally make their way to the car huffing and puffing.

"What the fuck?!" One guys says to the other, gesturing to his car.

"Not a bad job." You said right next to his ear. Before he could fully turn around you struck him in the head with the bat in your hands. The other guy turns to face you, putting his hands up ready to do something and then two bright headlights come to blind both you and the man. The horn honking wildly. Bo practically punching the thing.

"Sonofabitch." You say to yourself realizing who it was. Bo hops out of the car, slamming the door so hard you were surprised the window didn't break.

"You think yer a pretty big girl goin' off an doin' somethin' like this huh?!" Bo asks angrily walking toward you and the guy, shotgun in hand.

"Oh shit!" The guy yells and tries to make a run for it. You turn quickly, grabbing the back of his shirt and stabbing it to the tree with the knife from your bag. You saw Lester and Vincent step out of the car. Nervous as ever.

"You said you weren't gonna tell him." You complained to them, throwing your hands up.

"He threatened to eat Jonsey if you got hurt." Lester came to his own defense.

You looked over to Bo with a hand on your hip, "Real mature."

"Ohohoho don't even get me started on people bein' immature." Bo said making his way over to you. His large frame now stood in front of you.

"You all are insane! Lemme go!" The guy stuck to the tree screamed.

"I'm tryin' to have a conversation!" Bo yelled back, pointing the barrel of his gun at the shaking man. With his free hand Bo rubbed his eyes and sighed. You looked up at him, waiting for his next words.

"You stupid er somethin'?" He finally asks.

"I had to take care of something." You gesture to the situation around you.

"When I say I gotta take care of somethin most people don't expect that I'm gonna go murder people." Bo tells you.

That earns a confused look from you, Vincent and Lester. You all know that's a lie and in unison you and Lester murmur something about that being wrong and that he murders people all the time.

Bo rolls his eyes, "Jesus would y- I tell you not to do stuff like this on your own but you do it anyway. Is this just some dumb way to try an get my attention?"

"Please please d-dont kill me." The man cries, curled up against the tree.

"I won't feel the need to if you shut yer yap!" Bo yelled again, the barrel of the gun coming closer to the man's face.

You continue, "I wasn't gonna kill anybody. I was just gonna...give em a hard time." Bo let's out a snide laugh and looks up at the sky in disbelief. Your face cringes at what he might say next. Vincent and Lester wringing their hands waiting for what was to come.

"Give em a hard time? G- look at him he's deader than a godamn doornail." Bo growls gesturing to the man on the ground.

Your eyes travel toward the unconscious man sprawled on the field floor. Lips pursing at the realization that you might have hit him a little harder than anticipated. You look up at Bo holding up two fingers telling him to give you a minute. You lean down and put your fingers on the man's neck. All three brothers watch as you sit there for a minute. Silence....

"No he's still alive." You tell Bo, "also had you not shown up I could knocked both of them out and then gone home. They wouldn't have seen my face and they woulda had headaches when they woke up. I had a fool proof plan."

"How can it be fool proof when it's got a fool running the entire dumbass operation!?" Bo steps toward you.

"Hey guys!" Lester yells.

"What?!" You and Bo yell in unison looking back at him.

Lester's hand points in the distance and rhe two of you turn to see red and blue lights flicking through the night sky. Getting closer with every passing second.

"God- you get in the car, I'm not done with you." Bo points at you. You pick up your bag and run toward the car, making a mocking face as you go. Lester and Vincent hurriedly following. Bo knocks out the weeping man with the back of his gun and angrily walks toward the car.

"I'm screwed. How'd he find out?" You ask, turning to look at Vincent and Lester.

"I told you he threatened to kill Jonsey and cut off my testicales and nail them to my forehead." Lester rubbed the back of his neck. Bo stomps over to the truck. Swinging the door open and sitting down in his seat and slams the door. The lights getting closer and closer. Turning the car on and speeding into the field the rest of you hold on to anything you can get your hands on.

"Ok so-" Bo starts before you interrupt.

"We really hafta do this while the cops are chasing us?" You ask.

"Well clearly you wanted to get my attention, guess what sugar you got it. Now what the hell is goin on in that head a yours?" He asks poking your forehead. Boot laying into the gas pedal.

"OH please! If I wanted your attention I could just bend over." You mocked him and crossed your arms. Lester and Vincent tried to hold in theirs laughs from the backseat. Bo shot them a look but he knew you weren't wrong.

"I did this cause I wanted to and I knew you wouldn't let me." You told him, looking in the rear view mirror to see the lights getting closer to your car.

Bo stepped on the gas before saying, "Course I wouldn't let you do this alone or at all I don't want you to get hurt."

"But this was something I had to do." You told him.

"Why?" He asked throwing a hand up before taking a sharp turn into some tall grass.

"I just did!" You yelled back.

"But why?" Bo raised his voice. Lester started saying something about the cops from the back seat as Bo badgered you for a reason and the sirens were blaring.

"Holy crap! They said something bad about Vince while we were in town!" You finally broke telling them. The car went silent for a second all three boys looked at you. Your insides felt rigid as you waited for a response.

"Awww you were jus tryna stand up fer Vinny." Lester cooed, wrapping his arm around the back of your seat. Vincent held his hands to his chest in admiration of your gesture, tilting his head lovingly.

"Why wouldn't you wanna tell me that?" Bo asked making another sharp turn, throwing Vincent against Lester. Lester grunting in the process, slapping Vincent on the back to alert him that he couldn't breathe.

"Cause then you'd wanna do something about it yourself but I wanted to at least be a part of it." You replied, grabbing the wheel and turning in a different direction to try and lose the cops that were on your tail. Bo locked eyes with you, refusing to look in front of him.

A grin started to form on his lips. "You was just protectin him, huh?"

"Yeah. Of course." You smiled back, shrugging as if it were obvious.

"Vince, take the wheel." Bo ordered.

Vincent's head shot up watching Bo go from his seat to yours. He panicked and grabbed onto the wheel, squeezing his way into the driver's seat. Bo's calloused hands grabbed onto your face and pulled you toward him, his lips smashing into yours. You grabbed onto him, pulling him closer by the collar of his coveralls, his hat falling off in the process.

Lester looks on in disbelief. His eyes darting between Vincent and the two of you. Looking to Vincent to see if he was witnessing the same scene.

"Really? Right now? What was this all some form of foreplay for y'all?" He asked, looking at you two like you were crazy.

Without his lips leaving yours Bo's hand goes to push Lester's face away. Shoving him back into his seat. Lester falls back into it, crossing his arms and huffing. You and Bo shuffle around in the seat, looking for a comfortable position. Hands flying around and grabbing onto anything for support. The police sirens blare and whoop throughout the giant field, the lights spinning and causing a scene. You finally sat in Bo's lap comfortably. His mouth now attacking your neck and you began pulling on his hair.

"You're so good, takin' care of my family like that." Bo says, his voice muffled from where he was on your neck.

You nodded absentmindedly and started to undo his coveralls. He eagerly followed by lifting your shirt over your head. Lester looks around speechlessly, his hands raised in the air.

"Are you kiddin' me? We're gettin chaced by the police!"

Vincent's face was unphased and unimpressed as Bo's elbow came to push his head to the side, Bo completely engulfed in you.

"Did you see what I did to their car?" You asked, smirking at Bo.

"Yeah I saw what you did to their car. You did a real good job on the car." He told you with a dark chuckle. Bo moved you to position your body under his. His lips mouth down to your chest as his hand gripped the lever on the side of the seat, pulling on it the making it lay back with a crank.

Lester scooted back before he could get crushed by the reclining seat. His eyes catching a glimpse of the situation, his face turning red as he looked away, covering his peripheral vision with his hand. Opting to look out the window instead.

"Bet you wish this was you, huh?" Bo grinned smugly at his younger brother. Lester just sighed and shook his head. His face still beet red.

Vincent looked ahead to see a dead-end sign. His heart dropped as he started rapidly tapping his twins shoulder. Bo gave a growl, coming up, red face and mussed hair to look at Vincent.

"What?" Bo groaned. Vincent pointed toward the sign, trying to sign as best he could with one hand. Bo turned to look out the front windshield, your head poking up from behind him, straining to see. Lester finally looks away from the side window only to catch an eye full of your shirtless form, his hand going back to cover up his eyes before he gets caught leering.

"Just keep goin' there's gonna be a drop off right here but if you speed up now we can jump it." Bo says nonchalantly, going back down to finish the hickey he'd started giving you.

"Jump it!?" Lester screamed.

Vincent put the pedal to the metal, his boot practically denting the car floor. Lester screamed in terror while the cop cars sirens filled the wrest of the night air with its whaling sounds, all the while you and Bo are practically in your own world.

And with the you all attempted the jump.

And made it.

[day0walkersdrafts]

“Are you following me?”

Maran blinks up at him from three steps below. Benny stares down in contrast, hands in his black bomber Security jacket, sunglasses perched low on his nose. There’s the loud sound of a door closing a flight below them, the obnoxious slam of it echoing through the whole concrete stairwell. Maran’s smile gets bigger, taking one step up and closing the gap slightly between them. Benny tilts his head in response.

“No,” Maran answers coyly, his beautiful lips curled into an almost shy smile. Benny knows that smile by now; it’s this pretty, inviting, sometimes teasing smile. Makes Ben’s cheeks a little warm. He’s wearing a faded Ratspit shirt that has a hole in the collar. Benny thinks of slipping his fingers into that opening, widening it, yanking Maran up the stairs by thin fabric. Instead he blinks and furrows his eye brows, snorts and turns to continue climbing. “But,” he hears the younger man practically hopping steps. “Where ya goin’?”

“Up,” Benny answers without looking to the side where Maran has hopped the final step. Their shoulders brush a little. It’s an obvious attempt to get Benny to glance over that he doesn’t fall for. The brush comes a little harder then so he stops at the fifth floor and turns. Despite wanting that attention, Maran startles a little when Ben steps right up to him.

Their chests are close. Benny still has his hands in his pockets, but Maran has laced his behind his back. It pushes them a bit closer. He’s still smiling that sweet, boyish grin. It makes his lips look so fucking inviting; the memory of what they’d felt like when they’d kissed the first time lingers in the back of Benny’s head. Even when Maran isn’t there, somehow his thoughts stray toward that fucking kiss. Like he’s some virgin in math class unable to stop thinking about his crush—sort of annoys Benny.

Maran backs up a little, leans against the concrete wall behind him. He tilts his chin down, practically bats eyelashes.

“M’Just g-going for a smoke, Mar,” Benny laughs, tapping his fingers against his lips in obvious gesture.

“In a stairwell?”

“Roof,” Benny says, gesturing up. “G-Get alone for a bit. S’fuckin’ tour has too—too many people on it.” Maran’s shoulders drop a little. The chin tuck becomes less adorable and more morose as he glances down the curving stairwell they’d just climbed up. He pushes off from the wall and Benny rolls his eyes. “Relax,” he says, slipping a hand over Maran’s side. He feels a little shudder underneath his palm. It goes from ribs to lower back and then roughly jerks them closer. The silly little chain Maran wears on his belt jingles a bit. “Didn’t mean you.”

He smiles so instantly that Benny feels even more annoyed. Except it isn���t annoyance—it’s just so close to annoyance. It’s—like frustration. It’s this weird sensation in his chest. Fluttering almost. Benny doesn’t feel this way for people. He doesn’t care about them often enough to. It’s such a similar feeling to arousal that it makes him—aggressive. He keeps his hand flat to Maran’s lower back. Forces their hips together as he leans in.

When they’re about to kiss, Maran dodges it. Backs his head up and bites his lip to stop himself from smiling wider. His pretty brown eyes flicker over Benny’s face. His cold blue eyes narrow. He unwinds his hand from his pocket and pushes his sunglasses up and into his hair. He leans in once more and Maran almost laughs this time as he pulls away again.

Faster than he means to, Benny’s hand snaps up to catch Maran’s jaw. He feels him gasp a little at the sudden restraint, pupils expanding in those beautiful brown irises. Benny’s fingers curl, indenting pretty olive skin. Not enough to hurt—but Maran isn’t moving now.

“Stop being a brat,” he murmurs, lips close enough to touch. He feels Maran’s warm breath tickling him. Instead of kissing, Benny lites his lower lip. Gentle, no strength to it. Just a little hint of teeth is all, a small tug. Maran’s arms loop around him. One hand digs into the material of his jacket. Maran’s hips seem to buck forward and Benny can tell it’s unintentional because the mans face starts to turn scarlet.

Benny’s hand uncurls so he can run the tips of his fingers over the lower lip he’d just bitten. His eyes flutter when they part for him and he sees a hint of tongue.

“Ben,” Maran starts and is cut off when he’s yanked into a kiss. For a moment, it’s just the simple, but hard pressure of their mouths together. Then it isn’t. Then it’s Benny backing Maran up against the wall and wedging his knee between Maran’s thigh. Then it’s Maran’s hand digging into Benny’s hair and making him open his mouth to moan—and that parting of lips gives Maran the opportunity to push forward. Chase with tongue.

They kiss a little messy and hungry, tucked against that stairwell wall. Ben’s hands roam up under the shitty merch shirt. His palms flatten over ribs, move against back muscles. Smooth skin that’s warm to the touch, that makes Maran sigh to be touched. One slips higher, fingers brushing over a pert nipple that makes Maran twitch and pull back and hiccup a laugh.

“Aw,” Ben says in a snide voice, grinning ear to ear. He puts his forehead to Maran’s and flutters his own pale eyelashes. “Mar, are y-you sensitive, babe?”

“It tickled,” he protests in a petulant voice, both his hands looping behind Benny’s neck. A thumb brushes against his skin, making Benny hypocritically shiver. It incenses him, makes that frustrating-annoyed-fluttery feeling grow larger. Inescapable. He goes for another kiss, but then his head tilts down, looks at the way their hips are almost aligned.

“Are you hard?”

“What?” Maran blinks rapidly, shuffles a bit in place. “No.” Benny tilts his head. One of his hands nestles behind Maran’s neck, thumb brushing and then slowly digging and making Maran’s lips part in a soft gasp. He has to resist going back in for another kiss, because he wants to. Ben will think about it later, about how much he could just fucking kiss Maran. How he could pin him to the concrete wall and do nothing else but taste him on his tongue. Dangerous line of thinking.

“Want help?” Benny asks, grin still curving, a little nasty. He’s trying to ignore that big feeling in his chest. His knee bumps hard between Maran’s thighs—the whimper he does as a result has Benny’s stomach muscles tightening. A flash of heat simmers painfully over his skin. I want you. I want you, fuck, I want you. His hand squeezes on reflex and Maran’s eyes quickly shut, leaning back into that touch. Encouraging. Makes Benny light headed thinking Maran doesn’t do it purposefully. All reactions. All so many cute reactions.

“In here?” Maran asks, finally opening his glossy eyes and blinking at Benny. His head swivels a little bit, blinking up the last flight and down toward the bottom. There’s silence except for their heavy breathing. Benny’s hand moves to cup his chin again, move so he can only look forward, at him.

“Should I stop?” His knee hikes up again, presses forward against the erection he knew he felt when they were kissing. Maran’s hand slips up into his hair, curls into his blond strands. Accidentally makes the sunglasses fall off and clatter to the cement floor of the landing. Maran’s eyes follow them as he pants, open mouth. “Should I?” Benny asks again as both his hands slip down to open Maran’s belt.

“No.”

“What was that?” The belt gets fully open then, Ben’s fingers tucking into the edge of Maran’s briefs. “Whew,” he smiles, momentarily distracted as he flattens his hands and pushes them up instead, hikes the shirt higher. “An-Anyone ever tell you how cute your stomach is?” His eyes flicker up to find Maran smiling. Cheeks pink, eyes hooded a bit. The feeling in his chest gets so big it makes his ribs feel like they’re bowing outward. Benny has to blink a few times before his hands grip into his hips and then he maneuvers them.

If I look at you any more, I’m going to lose my fucking mind. I’m going to do more than give you a fun handjob in a stairwell. You’re making me dizzy. Stop looking at me. I have to slow down.

Suddenly, Maran faces the railing, the somewhat dizzying drop down the hollow center of the stairwell. His hands catch the railing as he sucks in a hard breath and Benny stands behind him. Much better. Much easier. He uses his heavy boot to kick Maran’s feet apart slightly, grinning with his lips to his shoulder at the jump it causes to travel up Maran’s body.

Benny slips his wallet from his back pocket and flicks it open. He puts it close to his mouth, using his canine to hook the condom there and pull it out enough that his teeth can really grab hold. He flicks the wallet close and shoves it back in place. His other hand stays where it is—on Maran’s lower stomach, up underneath his borrowed shirt. He’s so soft there, a little pliant when Benny’s fingers dig in.

He sort of makes a show of it. Because it’s a bit about the show of it. Doubts Maran’s ever enjoyed a bit of exhibitionism. Don’t worry. Always here to show a guy a good first time. He makes it apparent what’s in his hand. Maran’s head is tilted to the side. His back, pressed to Benny’s chest, expands and contrasts with his heavy breathing. Benny is going to store this info away. That Maran get’s like this just from kissing, from being man handled and complimented. He lifts the edge of the condom wrapper, wedges it between his teeth and rips. Then his hand finally moves. Not where Maran wants it to move, of course.

He wraps it around the railing in front of them instead, tucking his chin over Maran’s shoulder. He presses a sweet little kiss there. BOOM reads loudly from his knuckles. He flexes fingers just a bit, because he’s caught Maran looking at those tattoos more than once.

“Get—Get it out,” he says, low, throaty, dark.

The breathing gets louder. A beautiful echo in the empty concrete stairwell. Benny’s ears practically perk at the sound of Maran’s zipper. His hands are trembling a little—almost makes Ben stop. Seeing them makes him want to pause and grab them and hold, ensure they calm down before they continue. Until he realizes that’s excitement, that tremor is anticipation. Then he sinks his teeth into Maran’s shoulder, pinching the fabric of the shirt.

Something about the sounds of the zipper, the jeans, the briefs rustling is erotic to Benny. Makes his eyelids drop, his hand on Maran’s stomach press a little. He tucks his chin over his shoulder again, looking over as he watches Maran pull himself entirely from his briefs. He gives himself one nice tug that makes Benny’s lidded eyes pop open. He turns his head, takes Maran’s earlobe in his teeth and groans.

“K-Keep doing that, actually,” he says, making Maran shudder again. He attempts to adjust a little, but Benny’s body becomes a falcon like curve around him. Bars him from moving much at all. His eyes fall back to Maran’s cock, watches as he gives it another few gentle strokes.

“No one’s going to come in here, right?” Maran mumbles his voice breathy and soft. His chest is heaving a bit, shoulders moving up and down with effort. “’Cause—hah—that would be—”

“They might,” Benny cuts him off, hypnotized watching that tan hand. His own presses Maran’s lower stomach again, making him twitch.

“Ben—wouldn’t that be—bad,” he clips out the word when Benny’s hand moves from his lower stomach. His fingers dance forward over Maran’s shaft, making the younger man tremble and stutter his hips.

“Do you ha-have freckles on your fucking cock?” It makes Maran groan. Breathless and gentle as his head falls back against Benny’s shoulder. He squirms a bit, which almost makes Benny groan too, because he can’t pretend he’s not hard in his jeans too.

“Right, they’re weird—”

“They’re so fucking cute, Mar,” Benny replies, his whole hand gripping Maran now. “Y-You’re so fucking cute.” He listens to him groan again—only this time it sounds a little more like a whimper. Soft. Held in. Benny gets the sense he’s trying to be quiet—maybe not just because of the stairwell. Like he’s someone who holds in his noises. Makes Benny grip just a little tighter. He toys a bit, hand tugging slow, fingers moving over the tip of his cock in a teasing circle.

Benny gives him a few more compliments. Slow dragging of his dry palm until he feels a few beads of precum. Contemplates putting them in his mouth, but he’s focused now. On the talking. Tells Maran, right to his ear, how cute he is. How cute his cock is—how cute those freckles are. Might keep talking a little too much. Tells him if he could, he’d put his lips there. He’d kiss every single one of them.

I bet you taste good, Maran. I bet you taste so fucking good. I bet you’d like if I tasted you.

He remembers the condom then, laughs to himself that he’d forgotten to begin with. He flicks his wrist once more, the wrapper coming free from the little circle of pink latex. It drifts lazily down through the hollow center of the stairwell. Oops.

“Mind if I put it on for you?” Benny asks. Doesn’t give him enough time to answer as he starts. “S’just—can’t get my hands off, is all.” Maran’s breath punches out of him as he rolls the condom down, smoothing it. Benny tucks his chin again, right to his shoulder, head tilted to look at him. “Maran,” he beckons with his voice pitched low. He can see one flushed, pretty, freckled cheek and then Maran turns to look at him. “I really like you,” he confesses as he starts moving his hand.

“Fuck, Ben,” Maran replies, eyes glazed. Their lips are close, but Benny doesn’t lean in.

“Yeah, I would.” He gives Maran both his hands then. Starts up a good, tandem rhythm. Tight fists. “Really would.” Maran’s hands wrap around the railing. He bows his body slightly, head falling forward. “Nuh uh,” Benny says, pausing. “Look at me.” There’s a pause, as Maran collects his breath. He can see his eyes squeezing shut before he lifts his head back up, turns slightly to face Benny.

But Ben puts his big combat boots on either side of Maran’s cute, dirty white sneakers and keeps his body facing forward. Doesn’t let him move. The restriction is part of the fun. Maran’s breathing goes hard—harder when his hands start up again. Through the slick latex he can feel how warm he’s getting. A little throb when Benny’s wrist flicks, a motion of tight fingertips over the tip of his condom covered cock. Maran whimpers at that and makes Benny smile. Big and sleazy.

Then the sound of the door from downstairs makes Maran’s entire body jump. He tries to scramble, but Benny keeps him there, feet locked and hands still on him.

“Shhhh,” Benny whispers condescendingly. Maran’s eyes flicker around the stairwell. The sounds of conversation drifts up. He thinks he hears that cute little social media manager down there and a roadie. Some tech that has a crush and probably pulled her in for a quick, private conversation. Same idea as this, really. “Shhh,” he repeats, hands continuing their loving pace. Maran’s head drops forward, eye contact now simply impossible.

It’s adorable when his hips start moving too, bucking forward into Benny’s two handed grip. He moves so his mouth is at the nape of Maran’s neck. He breathes heavy, because he knows how good that feels. And is rewarded with more frantic hip movements. The press back against him makes Ben’s eyes momentarily roll close. The door sound comes again and the conversation peters out.

“Mmfuck—nhh—close,” is all Maran manages to sputter out breathlessly. His head twists to the side. Benny lets him, moves his foot a bit. That allowance makes Maran turn further, an arm hooking over Benny’s shoulder and their faces are so close then. Benny’s hand moves faster—and then faster, as the other works its way up Maran’s body. Side, rib, chest, neck. His fingers collar. He pulls them that much closer, lets their open mouths rest together.

Benny misses the warm feeling he knows would be there, if that little thin layer of latex was gone. He misses how it’d feel, spread across his fingers. But the most important part—Maran’s face, is all there for him to look at. The upturned brows, the gasp of a sound, the flush of pink all across his nose. All those freckles standing out more under the dark scarlet color. Benny’s tongue touches Maran’s lower lip and then he draws away with a large grin.

“You needed th-that bad, huh? Pent up?”

Maran sags a bit, turning until his lower back is against the railing. He huffs out an adorable breath, his chest giving a big heave. One of his hands scrubs over his smiling mouth, then up over his eyes. Benny does him the favor of snapping the condom off. He startles at that again and makes Benny laugh—the loud crack of it echoing the stairwell. He ties it off and kicks at the trash can in the corner of the landing, tossing it in.

When he turns, he stumbles back at the force of Maran’s arms around his neck. He feels the curve of his body, heavy and warm all over him, making Ben blink rapidly.

“Oh fuck, that was good,” Maran sighs out, crushing toward him. Benny realizes his pants are still unzipped, belt undone, so he goes about doing that for him to ignore that searing heat across his cheeks at the affection. He snorts a little snicker, feeling weird that his fingers are clumsy as he gets the belt buckled correctly. “Fuck, like, proper good. Like, going to feel it in my legs all day good.”

“J-Jesus, Maran, just a handjob,” he mumbles, but his lips are curling into a smile he doesn’t feel himself recognizing. Maran plants a wet kiss to the corner of his lips, another to his cheek, messy. Benny groans, but it’s affectionate, a hand patting Maran’s lower back. He’s shocked to feel his sunglasses getting slowly slid into his hair, blinking again. Hadn’t even seen Maran pick them up.

Go fucking figure. Got the sunglasses before he’d even zipped his own pants.

Once they get to the roof top, Benny wedges a bridge into the door to stopping it from closing. Last thing he needs is Lark running around with his head cut off because he can’t find Benji’s visiting friend, or the shitty security guard he probably regrets keeping on his payroll.

Maran chases after a small flock of pigeons immediately. Flaps his arms at them as he does, turns in a circle to throw Ben a big, open mouthed smile like he’d done something amazing. Benny tries hard not to grin back (fails) and untucks a cigarette from his pack and slips it between his lips. He gets close to the edge as he fishes out his lighter.

He feels Maran’s arms again, only this time they have a little shy note to them as they slip around his hips and pulls him away from the edge of the roof. Benny strikes the lighter a few times until the flame catches and then changes his mind. He takes the cigarette and taps it back into the pack. As he turns, Maran is already there, leaning in to kiss him.

[kattythingz]

Though the Truth May Vary

Summary: April is a big sister first and foremost, and copes with End of the World™ accordingly. Leo is a little brother two-point-five-fourths of sometimes, and copes with his sister's coping accordingly.

885 / 15651

It occurred to Leo when Lou Jitsu picked up a baseball bat.

“Hey, guys?” he said from his esteemed seat. Donnie didn’t spare him a glance from his polar position on the couch, but Leo had expected as much from his beloved twin. Raph’s inattention wasn’t all that surprising either—everyone knew it was a moot effort pulling him away from a Lou Jitsu movie unless the world was ending (again), and personally, Leo liked his face unblemished.

That only left Mikey, whose gaze had flickered to Leo from the projected screen.

“Have you noticed anything… off about April lately?” Leo asked him.

Mikey’s brow pinched. “‘Off’ how, exactly?”

“Like, y’know—” Leo made a vague gesture with his hands, but when Mikey only stared in confusion, he said, “Off.”

“Well, she has been busier lately with college now that she’s a junior,” Mikey said after a pause, “but she seemed to be enjoying that last time we saw her, so—”

“Yes, exactly!” Leo interrupted him. “When was the ‘last time’ we actually, properly saw her, Mikey?” Mikey opened his mouth to no doubt say, we saw her three days ago, Leon, or something equally sassy and disrespectful, but Leo beat him to it by adding, “Outside of JJ Night and Pizza Runs. Everyone knows skipping on those is grounds for disownment, so they don’t count!”

Mikey heaved an exasperated sigh (See? Disrespectful!) and said, “That doesn’t even make sense, Leon.”

“Sure it does,” Donnie’s nerdy voice suddenly sounded. Leo shot him an unimpressed look over Mikey’s head at the coincidentally timely interjection, and Donnie rolled his eyes. 

“Sure what does?” Mikey asked.

“Normally I’d respond with something unamused like ‘I’m not repeating myself just to play into your egotistic games of verbal manipulation, Leo’,” Donnie said, “but seeing as Mikey’s the one asking…” He cleared his throat, subsequently catching Raph’s attention from the beanbag as well. “Like our dear, intellectually challenged brother over there just said—”

“Hey!”

“—April is legally bound by the Sacred Covenant to attend JJ Nights and Pizza Runs unless she has more pressing matters to prioritize, which in that case, she’s also legally required to inform us beforehand so that we know not to wait up for her.” Donnie stopped to actually breathe, before continuing, “All that is to say, JJ Nights and Pizza Runs do not, in fact, count as ‘seeing’ April. It only counts as ‘seeing’ her if April herself planned something spontaneous that we totally didn’t know about but were totally down for anyway.”

“Huh,” Mikey said. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Leo made an indignant noise. “Seriously?” He told Mikey. “That’s literally what I just said, but in way less words!”

“Actually, now that you mention it,” Raph said, abruptly curb-stomping Leo into betrayed silence, “it has been a while since April’s dropped by without an invite. And I don’t think she’s invited us out anywhere either.” He frowned, looking up from what looked like a deep dive into chasm-ville. “You guys don’t think something’s wrong, do you?”

“Um, obviously, there’s something wrong!” Leo said, emphatically throwing his arms. “Why else would I have asked in the first place if there wasn’t?” 

Multiple blank expressions came at him, but Leo dismissed them with a petulant huff and crossed his arms, flopping back against the couch. “There’s also the fact that April hasn’t sent a single meme to the group chat in, like, forever,” he grumbled, “but who’s paying attention?”

Three, simultaneous blinks, and then—

“Sweet Lovelace! Leo’s right!” Donnie exclaimed. “Guys, the last meme April sent was eleven days ago!”

“Say what now?” Raph yelped. 

Leo rolled his eyes. “That’s what I’ve been trying—”

“Ohmigosh, guys!” Mikey suddenly straightened up, unfolding his legs and smacking Leo’s and Donnie’s knees in the hasty process. “April didn’t even caption this meme!”

Donnie frowned, deep and affected in that way that distilled the entire atmosphere.

Leo clenched around his biceps, feeling the briefest sting of nails digging into flesh, before catching himself and rubbing away the shiver that lingered like a shock across his shell. 

“Look, I didn’t mean to freak you guys out with it,” Leo said when his lungs were finally cooperating. “I’m sure if it was anything serious, April would’ve done the exact opposite and acted so extra-normal it only comes off as forced. It’s just… weird, is all. And I don’t think any of us are ready yet for a bad kind of weird to explode in our faces again.”

Raph grimaced, touching idle fingers over his bad eye. “Yeah, definitely not.”

Not for the first time, Leo forcefully redirected his eyes from his brother to the couch arm.

Bad eye. As if it was something repairable. As if Leo could flip through three different Snellen Charts and Raph’s vision would magically restore itself like they’d both silently wished and prayed would happen when Leo had dragged his brother to the med-bay for a check-up that they both knew in reality would achieve nothing.

As if any of this—Mikey’s scarred artist’s hands, Donnie’s numerous upended meals at the single noise of squelch, Dad’s near-overbearing insistence to “tuck them in” every night, Raph’s shell—

As if any of it could just be fixed.

And now, April too…

Leo swallowed. 

read more!!!

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Fervent (Part 3 of Illuminated)

Decisions of the heart quite often feel foolish, but they are made regardless. The deeper Ruth gets in with Tommy, the more she thinks love is a fool's game.

Black!OC. One-Shot.

CW: Mentions of pass sexual interactions. No explicit details.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Part 5 (Finale)

The knock startles Ruth. She sits bolt straight up from her bed, heart racing in her chest. The seconds pass in the thump of her blood pressing against vessel walls and then another knock rings out. Ruth’s quick to get her robe on and creeps to the door. The baseball bat she has stays near the door. As she steels herself, she reaches out for the wooden handle. Ruth is careful to ease her door open. The crack in the opening door reveals Tommy. 

Where others might fear the sight of Tommy at their door in the dead of night, Ruth only relaxes and opens the door wider. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Tommy states, noticing the wide eyes that slowly return to their normal shape. 

“Well, you have a funny way of greeting a soul. C’mon,” Ruth returns. She waves for Tommy to step inside and she’s quick to close the door behind him. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he confesses. 

“Don’t tell me you were just out taking a stroll to clear your mind then.” 

“No. I know where I was headed.” Even Tommy grins at his own response. 

“He knows where he is headed I’ll bet.” Ruth starts out to get a kettle on. Tommy sheds his coat and steps beside Ruth. Even in the dark, Tommy finds himself drawn to her every move. 

Even Ruth feels Tommy’s presence behind her. Tommy only watches what he can, catching the glimpses through the moonlight. When she reaches up, Tommy watches. He even slides in further as if to keep her from tipping over, but not actually touching her. 

“I don’t really want to cause you any trouble,” Tommy whispers. 

“Tea’s never any trouble.” Ruth takes a moment to get one of her lamps going to light the room just enough. The lick of the flame flickers and the shadows dance over the valleys and rises of Ruth’s face. 

Tommy inhales, like he’s got something to say, but really all the words have tumbled down his throat. They’ve fallen into the pit of his stomach and he’s got nothing left but his breath. The sleep he interrupted is clear on her face, but Ruth moves about her kitchen as if nothing’s happened. And maybe nothing has happened tonight. But Tommy can feel it in his fingertips how much he only wants to caress her. 

“Milk? Sugar?”

“No, uh, no,” Tommy answers. And when the cup settles onto the table, Tommy sits without any prompts.  “You know when you wished me real rest? And the next day I told you I hadn’t gotten any?”

Ruth settles next to Tommy. She doesn’t take a cup. But she does not scoot the cup for Tommy any closer. “I do,” she answers. 

“And then the next night I walked you home.”

“I remember.”

“I laid beside you that night and that was the first night I got real rest,” Tommy confesses. 

Ruth takes his hand, just one. And Tommy squeezes at the hold. It’s real. She is real next to him. Since then, the only times Ruth and Tommy saw each other were in stolen moments. At the Garrison, or when Tommy would venture to the tailor shop at night to walk Ruth after work. Their conversations sometimes felt like chess matches. Each one of them guarded in their own right, but each one of them are able to understand what made the other tick. But the weeks and passing months since then had been filled with almost mind numbing mundaneness. Though Ruth knows nothing that Tommy does is mundane or mind numbing. 

“That’s a long time to go without rest,” Ruth offers. 

Even though Tommy doesn’t want to, he laughs. “Oh, we’re old enough to call it what it is.”

Ruth gives his shoulder a playful shove. “If I wanted to say sex, I would have. We are too old to be calling it anything else.”

“I think I’m more tired now than I was during the war.”

“A fighting man,” Ruth whispers and brings his hand to her lips to press to his knuckles. 

“A blessed woman.”

“Around the likes of you, I think that tune might change.” And though the words should sting, Ruth follows them up with another kiss to his knuckles. It is only an observation. But Tommy hopes not. He hopes that Ruth never changes or has to change because of him. That’s the last thing he’d want. He doesn’t even realize the seconds are ticking away until Ruth speaks. He’s been so captivated by the way Ruth’s kitchen holds him. He’s been so at ease, time means nothing. 

“You could’ve told me you didn’t like tea,” Ruth teases. 

“I like tea,” Tommy returns. He punctuates the sentence by lifting the cup to his lips and taking a sip. Sleep is all too easy to find Tommy when he settles under Ruth’s sheets. She curls easily into his side. And Tommy is grateful for the ease--the drops of peace in the night. 

The morning streets are alive as they hold a steady pulse. The workers shuffle and roll and laugh among each other. But there is a deep pocket. As deep as one can get when Tommy and Ruth walk shoulder to shoulder. The glances are never long. It’s as if the people around are really only trying to look long enough to confirm what they’ve seen. Ruth’s not sure if it’s a sight they never expected to see or if it’s a sight they don’t like. And Ruth doesn’t really mind how it falls for them. 

But she worries Tommy might. He was mostly not a rash man, but definitely still a man. Tommy always wanted to win. He always wanted to come out on top. And he’d never let his loved ones be victim to social mockery. Would he consider Ruth a loved one? Would she be worth the same morals? 

At the doors of the shop, Ruth works the key into the lock and halfway expects Tommy to continue on. His work must surely never be done. But Ruth turns to find Tommy stepping in through the door. A small grin graces his face. “Is it a rule now? I can’t come in.”

Ruth only takes a step back further into the shop. “You always know what you want, lest I stand in your way. But if we’re talking rules, don’t bring mess into my shop and I won’t bring mess into yours.”

Tommy takes her coat and starts to put it away. “You drive a hard bargain, you know? You’re worse that any poor bastard I’ve screwed over.”

“The one place I need to feel normal is my work.”

“Does what we have make you feel abnormal?” 

“Have you not got eyes that work? The town’s looking at me like I’ve lost my head,” Ruth returns. Her words aren’t harsh, but she does drop her gaze away from him. The toe of her boot scuffs over the floor and she folds her arms into her chest. A measure to protect--Ruth had sworn she’d never be the town fool ever again. But now everyone is staring. 

“Some might say you have. And you tell me who those people are. Because I can promise they won’t be talking too much extra gossip.”

Ruth sighs and waves near her face before turning to get her books out and straight for the day’s start. “Violence has no place near me or because of me.”

Tommy stays near the door. Ruth is quick to bring out all the needed materials. And right in front of him like he’s blinking together a painting, Ruth assembles herself. Measuring tape around her neck, pencils tucked into the low bun, apron around her waist, cushion pin on her wrist. She falls into place as if by magic and Tommy is her witness. But he still manages to find the words, “What if it isn’t violence? Just a good scare?”

“Tommy.” 

“Alright. Alright,” he concedes and closes the distance between them. His fingers brush gently over her elbow before she passes him completely. The action halts any movements. And much like he felt when he left the first time hoping she’d listen to the real question in his words to have her show at the Garrison, Tommy catches the zing that runs his arm from his fingertips. It’s as if she shocked him, but he knows it’s not quite that. But it still makes his body shiver. 

Ruth watches over his face as the hard lines melt the longer they gaze at each other. “Don’t tell me you’re conceding.” She means it well, like she’s taunting him for giving in so easy. But in reality, her words fall softly, like chocolate melts in the summer heat. 

“I won’t bring any noise to your shop. And no one’s losing tongues just yet. But if it gets bad, please let me know.”

And the unasked questions get answered, even as Ruth nods at the gentle command, she knows Tommy sees her as worthy of the same morals he gives his family and the business. Though, she can’t help but think sometimes Ada might be right. Wearing the name Shelby or any relation to it could be a curse. It meant blood and lots of it--always fighting. But in its own right it meant something more. It meant people could look, but if they dared say too much trouble would always eventually find them. 

“I thought I told you violence wasn’t going to happen as a result of me.” Ruth smiles, even as she utters the words. 

“Aye, which is why I said I’d wait for a little bit.”

“They say a hard head makes for a soft behind.”

Leaning in every so slightly, Tommy holds onto Ruth’s forearm and brings her body closer into his chest. “You’ll have to let me know if the saying is correct,” he whispers against her ear. Their laughter falls easily. Tommy kisses her cheek before taking a step back. “Tell me, am I allowed to walk you home after work? Or is that bringing a mess to your shop?”

“I guess I could allow it.”

“I’ll see you tonight,” Tommy states. “I’ll even cook, if you’re not scared.”

“Aren’t I a lucky gal? Just don’t burn down my house.”

_______________

In the wake of months that pass, a routine settles around them. Tommy spends more and more nights over. Some are spent succumbing to flesh. Most are just sitting at the kitchen table  where they talk or occasionally play cards. But with the two of them there’s a distinct air of being used to the silence of the other. There need be no grand gesture. The quietness weighs more between them and they hold to those moments. And like routines are known to do, as they bring about a stark sense of familiarity and comfort, one knows when the routine is broken. There is a knowing that goes behind logic fact. 

Ruth wakes and everything feels heavy. Something is wrong. She had a feeling last night. But the day previous had been long and Ruth knows better now the power that sleep can bring to a weary soul. But in the morning, where sleep usually provides relief, Ruth finds she is still carrying a burden. Her limbs don’t move through the air like they used to. In one right, she moves all too easily through the air. Because Tommy’s not there. He’s not in her way. He’s not pressed into her side, trying to talk around the butt of a cigarette to berate the way she’s buttering a piece of toast. He’s not gesturing with a tea cup in her direction that she should just skip work, because no one as good looking as her should be working ever. Tommy’s staring over the rim of his glasses. 

The apartment is unbearably large. 

But Ruth continues on. She fixes breakfast, muttering softly to herself, “It’s supposed to be an even spread you know.” Her impression of Tommy is awful, quite dreadful in all honesty, but it makes her smile. 

Tommy will meet her at the shop. Or he might even be at the front steps, or on his way. Mayhaps they’ll cross paths. And she can berate him, make a taunt about how his lack of promptness will cause him trouble someday. Then she will let him know that should he need, there’s plenty of leftovers for him to fix breakfast back at her place. 

Ruth gets her gloves situated and slips a scarf over her head. There aren’t many sunny days but Ruth holds out hope. She carries herself down to the main door. She holds out hope. And when Ruth holds the lock in her hand that heavy feeling comes back. Ruth holds out hope. On the other side of the door, John stands a few steps back. He spots Ruth just behind the sliver of the door and reaches up to pull the cap off his head. 

“What in the hell happened, John?” Ruth hisses, shutting the door behind her. She hadn’t even realized she’d crossed the threshold until she’s standing almost toe to toe with John. 

“It’s Tommy.” He pauses and Ruth only stares at him. He sees more clearly now what it is about Ruth. Even though she blinks rapidly at his sentence, she stands straight up. She waits for more, because she already knows. She has the sight. “He’s hurt.”

“Can you send someone to watch the shop for me?”

John nods. “Of course, yes. For how long?”

“Just-just today.”

“We’ve got a car.” John waves over to the car a couple feet from them. Arthur sits in the driver seat. John continues on, “They can take you if you want. It’ll have to be brief. Tommy’s insistence.”

“I understand. Thank you, John.” He only nods and Ruth hoists herself into the seat. 

“Hold onto your horses,” Arthur jokes before peeling the car out from the curb. 

In the hallway just outside the door, Ruth listens. A soft groan floats into the air. A softer voice follows it and a few moments later the nurse steps out. She pauses at the sight of Ruth. “You scared me,” she laughs. “The room’s all good.”

Ruth nods. “Thank you.” Another bout of silence settles into the hallway. Behind the doors and thresholds are more soft voices or groans of pain from other people. And it’s an unsettling feeling knowing that anything can behind the wall once she crosses the threshold. But Ruth stays here in the hallway. It is safe in the hallway. But reality is so fragile. Everything is a trick of a mirror and smoke. Leaning too far one way, walking through the door, reveals too much of what’s actually beneath the surface. 

“I know you’re there.” Tommy’s voice faintly filters into Ruth’s ear. 

It’s only a few steps. That’s what she has to remind herself. It is only a few steps and Ruth takes them to reveal Tommy stretched and bandaged. One eye is nearly swollen shut. Red and purple do not suit his face, Ruth thinks. “I knew it was bad,” Ruth starts, her heels clicking just a little as she closes the distance. “When John showed up at my door, I knew it was bad. And when I woke up today, I knew it was bad. And I joked like you always do that the butter’s supposed to be an even bread, but I knew it was bad.”

“I’ll be up in no time,” Tommy counters. He hates the sureness of her tone. He hates that she’s already waiting for days like this. “Before you know it, really.”

“Before we know it,” Ruth nods. She then moves to the chair in the corner of the room. Gently she moves the chair closer, lifting it with one hand and setting it down near Tommy’s knees. Her descent is graceful. “I’m assuming if I decide to read the Bible, it’ll hex you.”

Tommy attempts a grin and his laughter falls into choked groans. “Don’t make me laugh,” he pleads around more choked  laughter. “A poor man like me can’t take it.” 

Behind Ruth’s small bit of laughter, she skims over his face. It’s bad and whoever is behind this—Ruth tries not to know many details— won’t stop now. This was a train that would not stop now. Not until someone died. Someone would. It is an inevitable fact that death creeps and creeps. 

“Don’t,” Tommy quietly commands. “I’ll be okay.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Ruth defends. 

“I know you, Ruth. I know you.” It’s all Tommy has to say. The months mean more than just Tommy becoming forthwith even if he never wanted to or thought he would. The months mean Tommy’s learned to see Ruth too. 

“It’s only worry,” Ruth states. It’s meant to ease his mind. It’s meant to ease hers too. Saying it’s only worry is to denote that the worry is only because of what’s in front of her, not the worry of what is to come.   

“Worry from you means more than worry,” Tommy counters. "You see things."

Ruth shakes her head. The last thing they need to do is fight. “Do you need me to do anything?”

“No, no, I don’t want you to be too involved. Not good for business, as someone once told me. Mess, I think it was.”

Ruth only sighs, though her laughter does betray her. It’s a nice moment of levity. To still find a humor in a moment that feels like a warning is a marvelous act indeed. “I believe, when it comes to you, mess is worth it.”

Tommy lets the sentence circle around in his head. I believe, when it comes to you, mess is worth it. It was a sentiment that Tommy told himself, whenever things felt like they were slipping from his control, he told himself that the mess created would be worth it in the end if he just kept playing the game. That’s all there is to you. Keep playing the game. Eventually he’d win. Eventually, Tommy would come out on top. 

His curse, as Ruth called it, to always be a fighting man. Was Tommy damning her too? Was he bringing her down into the mud because he was lonely? The last thing he wanted was to damn her too. And he’s so gone in thought, Tommy doesn’t even realize his hand has been taken by Ruth’s. Her lips are soft as she presses a kiss to his knuckles. No, he could not be damning Ruth. Not if she’s still here, not if she’s not running away. 

Ruth doesn’t stay long, partly due to Tommy’s insistence and when she returns back into the town, she finds two Blinders at the door of her shop. They greet her with a tip of their caps. “Thought it would be the day,” one says. 

“Can I ask one of you to come back in the evening? I think I’ll be okay for the day,” Ruth answers. 

“Surely. I’ll come back in the evening. Maybe we can offer a pass or two if you’re worried?”

“No, no, just the evening. Thank you.”

The two men give a nod and Ruth watches them carry on down the streets. Ruth fishes out her keys and unlocks the door. But once she’s inside, she’s quick to turn the lock once again. The outside world will stay outside for just a moment longer. And no sooner than Ruth carries herself down to her office, her hands shake. Her purse falls to the floor and Ruth doesn’t even move to pick it up. She takes another step and she can feel her knees wanting to give out on her. 

It’s two more shaky steps until Ruth collapses into the chair. The tears are hot on her cheeks. The sound of her sob echoes around the office. The sound ricochets and jars Ruth. Had she made that sound? When had she become capable of such a raw and gutting sound? When had the air in her lungs been so much enough to shake her own bones? But the only thing she can see even behind the squeeze of her shut eyes are the swollen eyes and the bruises. 

Maybe the bruises are hers too. Maybe the physical pain comes with an emotional toll and while Tommy sports the physical reminders of his actions, Ruth will always carry the emotional toll behind each and every one of those choices. 

The setting of the sun alerts Ruth that she’s spent the entirety of her down sitting in this chair in her office. She hasn’t even moved an inch to pick up her purse. But the boys will be coming by soon. She will have to continue on. Ruth manages to push up just enough to get her purse and stop by the restroom. She gets her face clear of the tear tracks. On her way towards the front door, she inhales deeply once, and then exhales. She inhales once more and then exhales and once the cracks open the door. 

Just as Ruth steps through the door, one of the boys from earlier returns. “Evenin’,” he greets. 

“Thanks for showing up again,” Ruth states. 

“Of course.” The walk back home is taken in silence. The next day, Ruth says to herself, will be better. 

And the next day is better. And the day after is better too. But before the week carries itself out, Ruth is greeted at the closing of her day by John yet again. He removes his cap, spotting Ruth. “You know,” Ruth starts, “they’re not going to call it the angel of death anymore. They’re going to call it the devil of death, John. Because if you come to my doorstep and take that damn cap off again, I am going to send you to the gates of hell myself.” It’s fear, Ruth knows it. John sees it. As Ruth talks, her chin wobbles just a little and though the words are fierce, she is clearly tired and scared. 

“It’s Tommy,” he starts again softly. 

“It always is,” she sighs and locks up the shop. 

 In the walk back to the apartment, John informs Ruth of Tommy working on his voyage up to Camden Town. By the time they reach her apartment, Ruth only has enough strength to excuse John before she leans into the door and weeps. There’s not even enough strength to make a sound. She can only hang her shoulders and let the tears fall down her face. The emotions shake her thoroughly. And though she never knows much, she knows enough. It is only worry, that’s what she told Tommy to dismiss his concern. But Ruth seems lately to only ever have reason to worry and worry and rot and worry some more. 

“Just keep him alive,” she whispers, unsure who or what she is praying to. “Just keep him alive.”

[unknownjpegs]

stairwell

“Are you following me?”

Maran blinks up at him from three steps below. Benny stares down in contrast, hands in his black bomber Security jacket, sunglasses perched low on his nose. There’s the loud sound of a door closing a flight below them, the obnoxious slam of it echoing through the whole concrete stairwell. Maran’s smile gets bigger, taking one step up and closing the gap slightly between them. Benny tilts his head in response.

“No,” Maran answers coyly, his beautiful lips curled into an almost shy smile. Benny knows that smile by now; it’s this pretty, inviting, sometimes teasing smile. Makes Ben’s cheeks a little warm. He’s wearing a faded Ratspit shirt that has a hole in the collar. Benny thinks of slipping his fingers into that opening, widening it, yanking Maran up the stairs by thin fabric. Instead he blinks and furrows his eye brows, snorts and turns to continue climbing. “But,” he hears the younger man practically hopping steps. “Where ya goin’?”

“Up,” Benny answers without looking to the side where Maran has hopped the final step. Their shoulders brush a little. It’s an obvious attempt to get Benny to glance over that he doesn’t fall for. The brush comes a little harder then so he stops at the fifth floor and turns. Despite wanting that attention, Maran startles a little when Ben steps right up to him.

Their chests are close. Benny still has his hands in his pockets, but Maran has laced his behind his back. It pushes them a bit closer. He’s still smiling that sweet, boyish grin. It makes his lips look so fucking inviting; the memory of what they’d felt like when they’d kissed the first time lingers in the back of Benny’s head. Even when Maran isn’t there, somehow his thoughts stray toward that fucking kiss. Like he’s some virgin in math class unable to stop thinking about his crush—sort of annoys Benny.

Maran backs up a little, leans against the concrete wall behind him. He tilts his chin down, practically bats eyelashes.

“M’Just g-going for a smoke, Mar,” Benny laughs, tapping his fingers against his lips in obvious gesture.

“In a stairwell?”

“Roof,” Benny says, gesturing up. “G-Get alone for a bit. S’fuckin’ tour has too—too many people on it.” Maran’s shoulders drop a little. The chin tuck becomes less adorable and more morose as he glances down the curving stairwell they’d just climbed up. He pushes off from the wall and Benny rolls his eyes. “Relax,” he says, slipping a hand over Maran’s side. He feels a little shudder underneath his palm. It goes from ribs to lower back and then roughly jerks them closer. The silly little chain Maran wears on his belt jingles a bit. “Didn’t mean you.”

He smiles so instantly that Benny feels even more annoyed. Except it isn’t annoyance—it’s just so close to annoyance. It’s—like frustration. It’s this weird sensation in his chest. Fluttering almost. Benny doesn’t feel this way for people. He doesn’t care about them often enough to. It’s such a similar feeling to arousal that it makes him—aggressive. He keeps his hand flat to Maran’s lower back. Forces their hips together as he leans in.

When they’re about to kiss, Maran dodges it. Backs his head up and bites his lip to stop himself from smiling wider. His pretty brown eyes flicker over Benny’s face. His cold blue eyes narrow. He unwinds his hand from his pocket and pushes his sunglasses up and into his hair. He leans in once more and Maran almost laughs this time as he pulls away again.

Faster than he means to, Benny’s hand snaps up to catch Maran’s jaw. He feels him gasp a little at the sudden restraint, pupils expanding in those beautiful brown irises. Benny’s fingers curl, indenting pretty olive skin. Not enough to hurt—but Maran isn’t moving now.

“Stop being a brat,” he murmurs, lips close enough to touch. He feels Maran’s warm breath tickling him. Instead of kissing, Benny lites his lower lip. Gentle, no strength to it. Just a little hint of teeth is all, a small tug. Maran’s arms loop around him. One hand digs into the material of his jacket. Maran’s hips seem to buck forward and Benny can tell it’s unintentional because the mans face starts to turn scarlet.

Benny’s hand uncurls so he can run the tips of his fingers over the lower lip he’d just bitten. His eyes flutter when they part for him and he sees a hint of tongue.

“Ben,” Maran starts and is cut off when he’s yanked into a kiss. For a moment, it’s just the simple, but hard pressure of their mouths together. Then it isn’t. Then it’s Benny backing Maran up against the wall and wedging his knee between Maran’s thigh. Then it’s Maran’s hand digging into Benny’s hair and making him open his mouth to moan—and that parting of lips gives Maran the opportunity to push forward. Chase with tongue.

They kiss a little messy and hungry, tucked against that stairwell wall. Ben’s hands roam up under the shitty merch shirt. His palms flatten over ribs, move against back muscles. Smooth skin that’s warm to the touch, that makes Maran sigh to be touched. One slips higher, fingers brushing over a pert nipple that makes Maran twitch and pull back and hiccup a laugh.

“Aw,” Ben says in a snide voice, grinning ear to ear. He puts his forehead to Maran’s and flutters his own pale eyelashes. “Mar, are y-you sensitive, babe?”

“It tickled,” he protests in a petulant voice, both his hands looping behind Benny’s neck. A thumb brushes against his skin, making Benny hypocritically shiver. It incenses him, makes that frustrating-annoyed-fluttery feeling grow larger. Inescapable. He goes for another kiss, but then his head tilts down, looks at the way their hips are almost aligned.

“Are you hard?”

“What?” Maran blinks rapidly, shuffles a bit in place. “No.” Benny tilts his head. One of his hands nestles behind Maran’s neck, thumb brushing and then slowly digging and making Maran’s lips part in a soft gasp. He has to resist going back in for another kiss, because he wants to. Ben will think about it later, about how much he could just fucking kiss Maran. How he could pin him to the concrete wall and do nothing else but taste him on his tongue. Dangerous line of thinking.

“Want help?” Benny asks, grin still curving, a little nasty. He’s trying to ignore that big feeling in his chest. His knee bumps hard between Maran’s thighs—the whimper he does as a result has Benny’s stomach muscles tightening. A flash of heat simmers painfully over his skin. I want you. I want you, fuck, I want you. His hand squeezes on reflex and Maran’s eyes quickly shut, leaning back into that touch. Encouraging. Makes Benny light headed thinking Maran doesn’t do it purposefully. All reactions. All so many cute reactions.

“In here?” Maran asks, finally opening his glossy eyes and blinking at Benny. His head swivels a little bit, blinking up the last flight and down toward the bottom. There’s silence except for their heavy breathing. Benny’s hand moves to cup his chin again, move so he can only look forward, at him.

“Should I stop?” His knee hikes up again, presses forward against the erection he knew he felt when they were kissing. Maran’s hand slips up into his hair, curls into his blond strands. Accidentally makes the sunglasses fall off and clatter to the cement floor of the landing. Maran’s eyes follow them as he pants, open mouth. “Should I?” Benny asks again as both his hands slip down to open Maran’s belt.

“No.”

“What was that?” The belt gets fully open then, Ben’s fingers tucking into the edge of Maran’s briefs. “Whew,” he smiles, momentarily distracted as he flattens his hands and pushes them up instead, hikes the shirt higher. “An-Anyone ever tell you how cute your stomach is?” His eyes flicker up to find Maran smiling. Cheeks pink, eyes hooded a bit. The feeling in his chest gets so big it makes his ribs feel like they’re bowing outward. Benny has to blink a few times before his hands grip into his hips and then he maneuvers them.

If I look at you any more, I’m going to lose my fucking mind. I’m going to do more than give you a fun handjob in a stairwell. You’re making me dizzy. Stop looking at me. I have to slow down.

Suddenly, Maran faces the railing, the somewhat dizzying drop down the hollow center of the stairwell. His hands catch the railing as he sucks in a hard breath and Benny stands behind him. Much better. Much easier. He uses his heavy boot to kick Maran’s feet apart slightly, grinning with his lips to his shoulder at the jump it causes to travel up Maran’s body.

Benny slips his wallet from his back pocket and flicks it open. He puts it close to his mouth, using his canine to hook the condom there and pull it out enough that his teeth can really grab hold. He flicks the wallet close and shoves it back in place. His other hand stays where it is—on Maran’s lower stomach, up underneath his borrowed shirt. He’s so soft there, a little pliant when Benny’s fingers dig in.

He sort of makes a show of it. Because it’s a bit about the show of it. Doubts Maran’s ever enjoyed a bit of exhibitionism. Don’t worry. Always here to show a guy a good first time. He makes it apparent what’s in his hand. Maran’s head is tilted to the side. His back, pressed to Benny’s chest, expands and contrasts with his heavy breathing. Benny is going to store this info away. That Maran get’s like this just from kissing, from being man handled and complimented. He lifts the edge of the condom wrapper, wedges it between his teeth and rips. Then his hand finally moves. Not where Maran wants it to move, of course.

He wraps it around the railing in front of them instead, tucking his chin over Maran’s shoulder. He presses a sweet little kiss there. BOOM reads loudly from his knuckles. He flexes fingers just a bit, because he’s caught Maran looking at those tattoos more than once.

“Get—Get it out,” he says, low, throaty, dark.

The breathing gets louder. A beautiful echo in the empty concrete stairwell. Benny’s ears practically perk at the sound of Maran’s zipper. His hands are trembling a little—almost makes Ben stop. Seeing them makes him want to pause and grab them and hold, ensure they calm down before they continue. Until he realizes that’s excitement, that tremor is anticipation. Then he sinks his teeth into Maran’s shoulder, pinching the fabric of the shirt.

Something about the sounds of the zipper, the jeans, the briefs rustling is erotic to Benny. Makes his eyelids drop, his hand on Maran’s stomach press a little. He tucks his chin over his shoulder again, looking over as he watches Maran pull himself entirely from his briefs. He gives himself one nice tug that makes Benny’s lidded eyes pop open. He turns his head, takes Maran’s earlobe in his teeth and groans.

“K-Keep doing that, actually,” he says, making Maran shudder again. He attempts to adjust a little, but Benny’s body becomes a falcon like curve around him. Bars him from moving much at all. His eyes fall back to Maran’s cock, watches as he gives it another few gentle strokes.

“No one’s going to come in here, right?” Maran mumbles his voice breathy and soft. His chest is heaving a bit, shoulders moving up and down with effort. “’Cause—hah—that would be—”

“They might,” Benny cuts him off, hypnotized watching that tan hand. His own presses Maran’s lower stomach again, making him twitch.

“Ben—wouldn’t that be—bad,” he clips out the word when Benny’s hand moves from his lower stomach. His fingers dance forward over Maran’s shaft, making the younger man tremble and stutter his hips.

“Do you ha-have freckles on your fucking cock?” It makes Maran groan. Breathless and gentle as his head falls back against Benny’s shoulder. He squirms a bit, which almost makes Benny groan too, because he can’t pretend he’s not hard in his jeans too.

“Right, they’re weird—”

“They’re so fucking cute, Mar,” Benny replies, his whole hand gripping Maran now. “Y-You’re so fucking cute.” He listens to him groan again—only this time it sounds a little more like a whimper. Soft. Held in. Benny gets the sense he’s trying to be quiet—maybe not just because of the stairwell. Like he’s someone who holds in his noises. Makes Benny grip just a little tighter. He toys a bit, hand tugging slow, fingers moving over the tip of his cock in a teasing circle.

Benny gives him a few more compliments. Slow dragging of his dry palm until he feels a few beads of precum. Contemplates putting them in his mouth, but he’s focused now. On the talking. Tells Maran, right to his ear, how cute he is. How cute his cock is—how cute those freckles are. Might keep talking a little too much. Tells him if he could, he’d put his lips there. He’d kiss every single one of them.

I bet you taste good, Maran. I bet you taste so fucking good. I bet you’d like if I tasted you.

He remembers the condom then, laughs to himself that he’d forgotten to begin with. He flicks his wrist once more, the wrapper coming free from the little circle of pink latex. It drifts lazily down through the hollow center of the stairwell. Oops.

“Mind if I put it on for you?” Benny asks. Doesn’t give him enough time to answer as he starts. “S’just—can’t get my hands off, is all.” Maran’s breath punches out of him as he rolls the condom down, smoothing it. Benny tucks his chin again, right to his shoulder, head tilted to look at him. “Maran,” he beckons with his voice pitched low. He can see one flushed, pretty, freckled cheek and then Maran turns to look at him. “I really like you,” he confesses as he starts moving his hand.

“Fuck, Ben,” Maran replies, eyes glazed. Their lips are close, but Benny doesn’t lean in.

“Yeah, I would.” He gives Maran both his hands then. Starts up a good, tandem rhythm. Tight fists. “Really would.” Maran’s hands wrap around the railing. He bows his body slightly, head falling forward. “Nuh uh,” Benny says, pausing. “Look at me.” There’s a pause, as Maran collects his breath. He can see his eyes squeezing shut before he lifts his head back up, turns slightly to face Benny.

But Ben puts his big combat boots on either side of Maran’s cute, dirty white sneakers and keeps his body facing forward. Doesn’t let him move. The restriction is part of the fun. Maran’s breathing goes hard—harder when his hands start up again. Through the slick latex he can feel how warm he’s getting. A little throb when Benny’s wrist flicks, a motion of tight fingertips over the tip of his condom covered cock. Maran whimpers at that and makes Benny smile. Big and sleazy.

Then the sound of the door from downstairs makes Maran’s entire body jump. He tries to scramble, but Benny keeps him there, feet locked and hands still on him.

“Shhhh,” Benny whispers condescendingly. Maran’s eyes flicker around the stairwell. The sounds of conversation drifts up. He thinks he hears that cute little social media manager down there and a roadie. Some tech that has a crush and probably pulled her in for a quick, private conversation. Same idea as this, really. “Shhh,” he repeats, hands continuing their loving pace. Maran’s head drops forward, eye contact now simply impossible.

It’s adorable when his hips start moving too, bucking forward into Benny’s two handed grip. He moves so his mouth is at the nape of Maran’s neck. He breathes heavy, because he knows how good that feels. And is rewarded with more frantic hip movements. The press back against him makes Ben’s eyes momentarily roll close. The door sound comes again and the conversation peters out.

“Mmfuck—nhh—close,” is all Maran manages to sputter out breathlessly. His head twists to the side. Benny lets him, moves his foot a bit. That allowance makes Maran turn further, an arm hooking over Benny’s shoulder and their faces are so close then. Benny’s hand moves faster—and then faster, as the other works its way up Maran’s body. Side, rib, chest, neck. His fingers collar. He pulls them that much closer, lets their open mouths rest together.

Benny misses the warm feeling he knows would be there, if that little thin layer of latex was gone. He misses how it’d feel, spread across his fingers. But the most important part—Maran’s face, is all there for him to look at. The upturned brows, the gasp of a sound, the flush of pink all across his nose. All those freckles standing out more under the dark scarlet color. Benny’s tongue touches Maran’s lower lip and then he draws away with a large grin.

“You needed th-that bad, huh? Pent up?”

Maran sags a bit, turning until his lower back is against the railing. He huffs out an adorable breath, his chest giving a big heave. One of his hands scrubs over his smiling mouth, then up over his eyes. Benny does him the favor of snapping the condom off. He startles at that again and makes Benny laugh—the loud crack of it echoing the stairwell. He ties it off and kicks at the trash can in the corner of the landing, tossing it in.

When he turns, he stumbles back at the force of Maran’s arms around his neck. He feels the curve of his body, heavy and warm all over him, making Ben blink rapidly.

“Oh fuck, that was good,” Maran sighs out, crushing toward him. Benny realizes his pants are still unzipped, belt undone, so he goes about doing that for him to ignore that searing heat across his cheeks at the affection. He snorts a little snicker, feeling weird that his fingers are clumsy as he gets the belt buckled correctly. “Fuck, like, proper good. Like, going to feel it in my legs all day good.”

“J-Jesus, Maran, just a handjob,” he mumbles, but his lips are curling into a smile he doesn’t feel himself recognizing. Maran plants a wet kiss to the corner of his lips, another to his cheek, messy. Benny groans, but it’s affectionate, a hand patting Maran’s lower back. He’s shocked to feel his sunglasses getting slowly slid into his hair, blinking again. Hadn’t even seen Maran pick them up.

Go fucking figure. Got the sunglasses before he’d even zipped his own pants.

Once they get to the roof top, Benny wedges a bridge into the door to stopping it from closing. Last thing he needs is Lark running around with his head cut off because he can’t find Benji’s visiting friend, or the shitty security guard he probably regrets keeping on his payroll.

Maran chases after a small flock of pigeons immediately. Flaps his arms at them as he does, turns in a circle to throw Ben a big, open mouthed smile like he’d done something amazing. Benny tries hard not to grin back (fails) and untucks a cigarette from his pack and slips it between his lips. He gets close to the edge as he fishes out his lighter.

He feels Maran’s arms again, only this time they have a little shy note to them as they slip around his hips and pulls him away from the edge of the roof. Benny strikes the lighter a few times until the flame catches and then changes his mind. He takes the cigarette and taps it back into the pack. As he turns, Maran is already there, leaning in to kiss him.