#If this is a case of him leaving the Bats they are scrambling to find Damian

[goldengirlgalaxy]

An Assassin Child and His Ghost Sword

For whatever reason, Danny has become a magical sword and been thrown through time and space, eventually landing in a completely different world far in the past.

In all honesty, being a magic sword isn't the worst thing ever, to the point he's basically using it as an extended vacation. Whenever he's alone he sleeps, whenever he has a wielder, he gives them advice and extra abilities and the like. If he gets bored in one area, he's able to move himself to another.

However, Danny ended up screwing up somewhere down the line. See, he has the ability to only work for those who are 'worthy' (basically a catch all term for the people Danny likes or can at the very least be civil with). If someone 'unworthy' picks him up, he'll curse them.

Unfortunately, after a long string of unworthy people, everyone now believes Danny is solely a cursed blade, his ability to bless others forgotten when he finally goes down in the history books.

Then when Danny finally come to the modern age, he ends up being found by one Damian Al Ghul.

Damian is all by himself for one reason or another (running from the League, disagreement with the Bats, etc.) when he finds Danny. And frankly, what kid wouldn't want a magical, talking sword that grants incredible powers, especially when you've been trained in how to actually wield them. He doesn't really have a plan, so he decides to just travel around trying to find a place he belongs.

Danny likes the kid and decides to look after him since he's all by himself. He helps the kid travel around the world, teaches him how the world works, helps him with any moral issues that being raised by assassins brings, etc.

Meanwhile, the rest of the world is wondering who this small, wandering child with the sword is.

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 27 - "I don't know if they will accept this."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A/N: Started writing this yesterday and finished it during lunch break today. So I decided to take a break tomorrow and post this early :D

Danny nervously poked his scrambled eggs as he sunk just a little lower in his chair. His eyes flicked back and forth between all of his new siblings that were currently in a heated discussion not noticing his slow withdrawal from the discussion and acting like he really didn't want to get noticed by them.

"Have you seen Mister Freeze's new sidekick? The white haired one that's probably a Meta with ice powers?"

"You mean Wraith?"

"Wait, I thought the kid was Ivy's sidekick? He helped blow up a facility last week!"

"No, no, no, no! Isn't he with Scarecrow?! I am sure he accidentally screwed up with the Fear Gas ten days ago so no one go harmed! But Scarecrow screamed at him that being new to the job wasn't an excuse."

"Didn't he help Catwoman steal two artifacts a couple days ago? One of them wasn't cat themed though I am pretty sure he was with her that time…"

"Wasn't he also the kid that was with Joker the last time he broke out? You know the white haired kid that was forced to assist him and tripped him right into his own trap and made the whole arrest a lot easier and quicker than usually?"

"It's like the kid switches who's sidekick he is every week…"

"Maybe he is interning with villains before breaking off to do his own thing? We better keep an eye on him."

Danny sank just a little bit lower in his chair and avoided looking at Alfred. Of course Danny knew about his new family's night time jobs, well day time in Duke's case, but when they had asked him if he wanted to take part in it he had declined. They didn't know about his second form, they only thought of him as a Meta with ghost powers that just escaped a horrible situation and now wanted a quiet and somewhat normal life. So they had accepted his decline in going into hero work, especially Alfred and Bruce appeared to be most relieved and happy about that decision at first.

But what Danny hadn't told them was that he might have declined going back into hero work, that didn't mean he would stay completely out of that side of his new family's life. The half ghost hadn't planned on it but it had all started with him accidentally coming across Poison Ivy. She reminded him of Sam in her values, so before his brain was able to catch up Danny asked if she wanted help blowing a facility that was pumping toxic waste into the water. Years of helping Sam with organizing activist protests did that to his brain.

One thing led to another and somehow Danny found himself more often than he liked in his phantom form acting as a sidekick or assistant to the rogues this family was fighting. In a way Danny felt like he was now more of an anti-hero than a hero, still fulfilling his obsession of protecting by finding creative ways to foil the rogues' plans if they get too dangerous or murderous but not really doing the whole righteous hero stick either.

Plus by working with Mister Freeze and Scarecrow at times he also gets to fully live out the mad scientist side of his brain. With them especially he gets to create whatever his weird wired brain could come up with, though, he did 'accidentally' leave behind USBs or papers with his inventions for Tim to find at the crime scenes.

What his new brother did with them was none of his business. If the Bats and Birds suddenly had new equipment in their arsenal that looked eerily similar to his inventions than that was that.

The problem was… his new family probably wouldn't like or accept that kind of turn of events. They were righteous and defenders of justice with moral codes and standards, Danny wasn't sure he could fulfill at the moment. Watching his new siblings arguing back and forth about Wraith, his new anti-hero alias Selina, Harley and Ivy had come up with, made his stomach sink every morning. In fact Danny was getting more and more scared with the passing days that his new family would kick him out the moment they learned about it just like his former parents had done.

He wished he had Jazz's contact to talk this over with her, but because of his situation Bruce found it better to wait a little longer before he could safely reach out to her. Maybe he could ask if Harley could talk with him instead.

A cup of tea was placed before him and Danny's head snapped up (when had he started to look down?) to find Alfred smiling calmly at him. "Master Daniel, I believe a nice cup of tea will help calm down your nerves."

"Thanks." Danny mumbled his hands cupping the cup and letting the warmth of it seep over his hands into his arms to comfort his nerves. He took a sip, eyes going wide for a moment before he looked over to Alfred who was currently taking away Tim's third cup of unfinished coffee while the other was distracted with the ongoing discussion. The old man gave him a knowing smile and Danny couldn't help the small grateful one that formed on its own, though he also couldn't help the slight feeling that Alfred knew what was frazzling Danny's nerves so much.

"Jason, maybe you can get into contact with Wraith?"

"Why the fuck should I?"

"You have a different reputation than us as Red Hood. He might be more willing to talk with you, to figure out his motives and such."

Danny choked on his tea, hurriedly placing the cup back on the table before pounding his own chest in a desperate attempt to get any tea that went down the airpipe out.

"Danny! Are you okay?" Dick was instantly on him, worried older brother vibes and all that.

He wheezed before breathing in relief once he stopped coughing, giving the oldest a barely hearable "I'm fine."

"<tt> Try not to die stupidly like this, Fenton." Damian clicked his tongue and Danny gave him a toothy grin.

"I am already half dead." He heard Jason snort. While the family thought Danny was just a Meta with ghost-like powers. Danny had explained his accident to them and how he died and revived with powers through it when they asked him why he was insisting through jokes that he was half dead. Jason and Dick were the only ones who really enjoyed his death related jokes and puns, the others were more worried about his mental state.

"Leave the death jokes to Todd, Fenton."

"Oh come on, don't ghost me like that! My jokes are just as much to die for then his are!"

"Fenton."

Danny just laughed, while the previous discussion made him fear for the future, he still loved the family he had gotten added into by sheer luck. He had come to quickly love them all and felt like his own weirdness fit perfectly into theirs. It truly made him hope that he could stay with them for a long time and maybe even add Jazz into the picture as well once his whole situation was more secured and Bruce would allow him to contact her and his friends.

Later that day Danny was in the library reading a book on Molecular Structure of the human biology and how it can mutate depending on external influence, as a preparation for his next endeavor as Wraith with Killer Croc, when he felt tapping on his shoulder.

Turning his head slightly Danny startled finding Cassandra in his personal space sitting next to him with a mirthful smile. She gave him a small wave as a greeting before sitting back a little, apparently satisfied with the fact that she sort of scared him there a little.

"Hey Cass." He smiled, putting one of the many bookmarks, Jason had distributed and stored away everywhere in an effort to stop his siblings from creating dog ears in books, on the page he was on before closing the book in his hands.

"You worry too much, relax." She signed with a reassuring smile once Danny had turned his full attention on her. Confused, the half ghost on the other hand tilted his head, puzzled about what Cass was going on about. He did feel rather relaxed right now.

"You being Wraith." Wide eyed Danny hurried to cover Cassandra's hands, like one would cover another's mouth if they blurred out a secret. His eyes hurriedly darted around in their surroundings but aside from the shelves filled with books Danny couldn't see nor sense anyone that might listen in on them.

Cass was shaking in silent laughter as Danny nervously turned back to look at her. "How…"

Slowly she freed her hands from his and patted them comfortingly before beginning to sign again, smiling knowingly. "I saw. Your body language is the same."

"I…" How was he going to explain this? He had gotten found out, was Cass going to tell him to leave now? Was this the end of his new found family life? It came sooner than he anticipated. Blankly he stared at his hands that uselessly lay in his lap on the book cover, one hand slowly moving to nervously trace unseen patterns on the books spine.

Danny did not see how Cass frowned at that action, all mirth gone from her smiles. She did not like her brother was drawing into himself, doubt and fear started to radiate from his body language and Cassander didn't like that even more. She moved a little closer, so that she would have an easier time to reach Danny and poked his cheek mercilessly until her little brother looked back up at her.

"No need to explain." She actually spoke instead of sign just to show Danny how serious she was. "It's fine. Funny even. Like Selina."

"But…" A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed, trying to find the right words. Cass waited patiently for him. "Mom and Dad… my former parents… they didn't accept me as a ghost hero…"

Cassandra nodded but didn't sign nor say anything, seeing that there was more her newest little brother wanted to say but still trying to find the right words for. It was something she could relate to. Unable to find the right words, hadn't she been through that before too. She lay a comforting hand down on Danny's shoulder, once more waiting patiently.

"I… I don't know if they will accept this… this turn of events. Especially in this family. You all are taking the Hero route and I…" Danny swallowed once more. "I can stop, I can change. I just don't… I don't want to lose another family…"

Before Danny knew what was happening he was enveloped in a warm hug, he blinked several times before realizing that Cass was hugging him tightly. He was held like this for a while before she drew back from him, poking him once more to make him look at her once more.

"No need. Don't stop." She spoke her voice, soft and smoothing while smiling at him brightly.

"But…" She shook her head, silencing whatever Danny wanted to say before giving him a mischievous smile, her hands letting go of his shoulder so sign her next words. "You are not hurting anyone, you keep them from killing, from being too dangerous to civilians, not really breaking any big laws. You help us in your own law breaking way. Like Jason does."

"I am not as good as him…" Danny mumbled still unsure but Cass only smiled fondly ruffling her little brother's hair.

"You started to smile more since you became Wraith." She flat out told him, causing Danny to look up at her stunned and she laughed silently. "Keep going. If you go too far, I will be there to pull you back."

"You're like Jazz…" Danny mumbled, finally with a little smile on his face and Cass returned it with a satisfying one of her own before pulling him in for another hug, he returned this time.

That night, Orphan watched happily how her little brother laughed carefree and freer than he had in a month sitting on Killer Croc shoulders, testing out his newest invention while the rogue was trying to get him off, unsuccessfully so far. Her other brothers surrounded the two and tried to figure out what was going on since Wraith was supposed to be their rogues gallery sidekick and not challenge them like that.

She laughed even when suddenly out of nowhere a USB-Stick hit Red Robin in the face. Obviously she had caught Wraith flinging it in his direction, but she was not about to tell them that. Orphan would let them figure that out on their own, meanwhile she was going to enjoy watching her newest little brother smile and laugh while being the chaos gremlin she had seen in him from day one as he was messing with the rogues as well as vigilantes / heroes of Gotham.

[orionremastered]

Are there another part for shapeshifter golden tiger reader :D i appreciate your writing so much! 💕

I've gotten another ask regarding a shifter!reader, so Imma just pile em up into one big AU. Send more shifter requests to have them added to the list! Even outside of gotham with other dc heroes would be cool. Like they've all got connections with other shifters online or sumin

shifter gang

?

Masterlist

Part One

Golden Pt. 2

It's been a few days since you last saw the pair, and maybe you're okay with that. Nights have been quiet yet cold, and you're getting excited about the temperature change that comes with spring.

Night patrols have been close to uneventful; save a kid or two there, maul a criminal of two here- the usual, in other words.

You're expecting the usual again tonight, just quiet patrolling and nothing extreme-

Look, you haven't been here for long, okay? Optimism, got it?

You're on the prowl for a missing girl, one that the bats no doubt have on their radar too, but you never know- you might get to her first. You went to the apartment where she lives and are confident that you could pinpoint her on her scent alone.

It's been an hour or two since you started looking and finally, you catch a whiff of the little girl's scent. You draw closer to an abandoned building, sneaking through structures to hide from the unforgiving street lights that flicker, forgotten by the city.

You jump onto a dumpster and into a broken window above it, landing quietly on the dusty floorboards. You can hear crying and the little girl's scent gets stronger.

Someone snaps at her as you draw closer, creeping up the stairs to the second floor. Thankful that the floor doesn't creak, you continue through the corridor of apartments, the number of each room fading from their painted places upon doors.

The screaming gets louder until you stop at a door, slightly ajar. You nudge it open with your nose and- you've luck- it's silent too.

"Shut the fuck up, dammit, you'll-"

The man doesn't get much more out of his mouth before you pounce, toppling both of you to the floor. Your fangs lock around his wrist, making him cry out in pain as you reach for the gun in his hand and throw it to the farthest corner of the room.

"Get-"

You snarl, pushing a set of sharp claws into the top of his spine. He yells curses that one should not around a child.

The window shatters beside you and two figures gracefully land in the room, one larger and one smaller by the sound of the thuds. You turn your head to glare, teeth bared and gleaming before you realise it's Robin and Batman- the duo one only fears if they're a criminal in the light of justice.

The man continues screaming, but not after giving one threatening snarl, deeper than any other you ever have.

"Leave the rest of this to us," Robin says calmly, and you're certain you like him more than the brooding knight in the corner near the gun.

He's allergic to those things anyway, so it's not like you're worried.

You step off the man's back and slowly approach the girl. She scrambles back and you remember you have blood still on your fangs. Still, you lower your head and attempt to look as harmless as a big cat can.

You can't grin when she reaches out to pet your head in case she sees your bloodied teeth. Once she realises you won't do her any harm, she scratches your neck and ears. Purring, you nudge her gently and lower yourself to the floor.

She's small enough to climb onto your back without it being too much of a struggle to stand and walk- she must be only five. She giggles, eyes red with tears, but she finds comfort in the warmth of your fur.

"GCPD has been called," the Bat says, glaring down at the criminal. You and Robin do the same. "Would you like us to take the girl to a hospital?"

You raise your head to look at him and flash your fangs, a solid 'no'.

"Whatever you think is best," Robin says, the Bat looking at him with a stare only a father could give to his son. "But wait, before you go-"

Robin smooths the short furs of your head and scratches underneath your ear. It takes you by surprise at first, but you don't snarl or bare your fangs at him, so he continues until he feels as though his father's glare has gone on long enough. "I told my siblings I'd pat you first. It's a bet, the only one I have participated in so far-" Batman snorts- "And I have won. As expected, I have succeeded."

You make a sound of amusement.

"Perhaps we shall work together again," the older of the two says. You huff, knowing you did all of this yourself, but nod anyway.

Perhaps it's time to make some friends -ones that aren't drowning in coffee and assignments, anyway.

Taglist: @veunho, @chevysstuffs, @carewerff, @xxrougefangxx, @yorkeylover

[charmercharm3r]

I dont know if you're taking requests but

Imagine camping with friends and SKZ are in the campsite next to you and you start flirting with chan or any of 3 racha and you end the night getting fucked in their tent or an a table or something

Idk I've never made a request .....

ooo I like the way you think... perfect timing with chan's birthday :3 hope you like it!

Camp Out

BC

Masterlist

wc: 3.4k

Synopsis: You made some great friends on a trip you didn't even want to go on.

warnings: smut, sexual explicit content, unprotected sex (do not do this), mentions of exhibitionism, little bit of ass slapping, creampie

-

You should’ve never let your friends convince you to go camping. You hated the outdoors, at least living outside for a few days. It never seemed appealing, no hot shower, no running water, having to use nature’s bathroom. But still, they assured you that you’d have fun and that it’ll be great for making memories together. So reluctantly, here you are at a campsite.

Surprisingly, there were a few people around doing campy things like barbecuing and playing in the lake. Sure, it was nice for a few hours. Then the boys at the site next to yours came over, inviting themselves to your campfire for some s’mores. They’d introduced themselves as Jisung, Changbin, and Chan, cool guys. Probably had no idea what they were doing because their attire screamed city, just as yours did. None of you were prepared for camping.

You had to admit, you didn’t hate the new addition to your camping group, the three boys were quite easy on the eyes. Chan in particular caught your attention, finding his quick-witted jokes and curly hair to be rather endearing. He lingered around you, making conversation that felt so natural as if you’d been lifelong friends. It felt right to stick around him, maybe throw in a flirt here and there. 

Your now extended group laughed and had fun together until the sun went down, and you were forced to choose tents. Since there were four of you and three tents, one tent would be shared between two. It was just your luck that you got a tent to yourself— in the dark, in the middle of nowhere.

Chan and his friends were around when your group decided on sleeping arrangements. To keep the fun going, one of your friends invited them to move their site to merge with yours. How could they say no to a group of girls inviting them to sleep oh so close by?

Yeah, the boys were underprepared with only one tent for the three of them, not that they minded. They all seemed pretty close and the tent was a decent size. The tents were set up in a lopsided circle, the boy’s next to yours and you were thankful there was a few people stronger than you in case something happened.

Seeing your hesitancy to sleep alone, Chan offered you the baseball bat he kept in his car to accompany your measly pepper spray for protection.

“Don’t leave any food out, bears can smell it,” Jisung nonchalantly said, packing his leftovers into the sealed garbage bin. Your voice caught in your throat at the mention of bears possibly lurking around.

It was like Chan could read your mind. “Don’t worry, there’s no bears,” he whispered, nudging your arm gently and giving you a warm, dimpled smile. 

His words didn’t ease you. By the time the sun had completely set and everyone dispersed for the evening, you were practically shivering with anxiety. It didn’t help that no one else seemed to understand your worry. So you tucked into your sleeping bag with the bat within arm’s reach, unable to fall asleep.

Somewhere between tossing and turning and your mind racing with the different possibly exit strategies, a twig snapped outside and made you jump, causing a small squeal to escape your lips. Scrambling to slip your shoes on and a jacket, you clicked the flashlight onto the highest setting and grabbed the baseball bat. Your hands trembled as you unzipped your tent, hoping to get into one of your friend’s tents as quickly as possible.

Your feet stumbled onto the grass and the bat instinctively raised at ready position. Just as you turned to walk towards the other tents, another body moved and you jolted the bat back, winding up to swing.

“Whoa, whoa! Down, girl. It’s just me,” Chan said quietly, throwing up his hands in surrender. A relieved breath pushed past your lips.

“What the hell are you doing?! You scared the shit out of me.” Lowering the bat, you relaxed your stance and shone the flashlight in Chan’s face.

“Checking on you, I thought I heard you scream. Will you not point that in my eyes?” He squinted and covered his face from the bright LEDs, you muttered an apology and waved the beam around the floor. “Maybe I’ll let the bear eat you next time.”

Terror suddenly made your jaw chatter, “you wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Chan scoffed playfully, turning his back to crawl into his own tent.

“W— wait— Chan?” The unusual stutter of your words had him pausing, body half in the tent and half outside. He didn’t say anything, waiting for you to continue. “Will you stay with me?”

Blinking blankly, Chan stared straight ahead at you. He didn’t answer for a few moments, brain short circuiting because this person he’d just met a few hours ago was asking him sleep with them.

Well, not sleep with them— just sleep next to them. Shaking his thoughts out of the gutter, Chan nodded and secured his tent with his sleeping friends inside of it. You wrapped your arms around your body, scared as he made his way over to you. All he did was put his hand on the small of your back to guide you into the tent and you felt warmth instantly shoot through your body. 

“Oh wait, let me get my sleeping bag,” he said hushed as you were already getting back into your own. The thought of him leaving you alone was terrifying, making you reach out to grab his arm before he could leave the safety of your tent. There was a genuine terror in your eyes, making Chan nod and close the tent. “O— okay. Just hold on.”

The sleeping bag was expandable, knowledge you didn’t possess until he’d unzipped and rezipped it to fit two people. Chan waited for you to lay down first, unsure of what to do with himself because he’d only spoken to you this very same day. You faced away from him on your side, so he took that as a sign to lay on his back, unassuming in the way the back of your thighs touched his. He could feel your body warmth through his sweat pants, how were you so hot to the touch?

Against better judgement, Chan snuck a glance beneath the sleeping bag, seeing you in just shorts and a large shirt. He let out a deep sigh, and just as he did, your arm reached back, finding his. You pulled him to lay on his side behind you, draping his arm over your torso. His breathing hitched, holding it in until he was comfortably holding you.

Another glance below the covers, he took extreme notice of how closely your butt was to his crotch. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it, he thought to himself, imagining anything but your ass coming into contact with the half chub he was starting to involuntarily raise.

Your eyes were open, gripping tighter onto his arm and pulling him closer until you were flush against him, chest to your back and hips to your ass. Was it unnecessary? Sure. But Chan was hot, there was no denying it. And he seemed like he was the kind of guy that enjoyed saving the damsel in distress judging by how quickly he’d gotten up to see if you were okay when you screamed. He’d gotten into your tent with little to no convincing, it’d be a shame to pass up the opportunity to tease him a bit. 

His hand hovered over your stomach, unsure of where to touch, so you interlocked fingers, tugging him slightly upwards to rest just under your breasts. When you pushed your hips back just the slightest bit, you felt it. He was hard, incredibly so.

It was so unlike you, inviting a stranger into your bed. But maybe that was also what excited you. There were no strings attached, no feelings, you could enjoy yourself without having to worry about the aftermath.

That’s why when you heard Chan gasp at the contact, you didn’t stop. You pushed harder into his crotch and rubbed your ass over him, his grip on your hand tightening. The more you grinded back into him, the more confident he got, now absolutely sure of why he was here. So he propped himself onto his elbow, brushing your hair from your neck and leaning in, placing soft, experimental kisses to your skin. Unaware of his own neediness, Chan rubbed harder into your backside. 

The feeling of his lips ignited you and made the warmth in your stomach spread. He nipped at your neck again, growing hungrier and hungrier as his hips picked up speed. Turning your head just enough, you met his lips with the same fervor, only the sound of heavy breaths and the swapping of spit echoing in the tent. 

Chan untangled his hand from yours to bring it to the hemline of your shorts, tugging at them. It was rushed and slightly awkward, but you managed to get them down to your ankles. As soon as you did, Chan snuck his fingers towards your core, hot and wet from the second he agreed to stay with you.

His fingertips only grazed your clit and touch-deprived hole, making your body shudder. “Sensitive thing, aren’t you?” He whispered, voice deep with lust. You could only mewl in response, wanting more.

With the lightest touch, he flicked at your bundle of nerves, getting you to arch into his chest and whimper again. A dark chuckle erupted from his throat as Chan swiped some of your arousal, using it to spread over your pulsing mound. He played with you like this, legs instinctively spreading wider the more he rubbed circles into your clit with just the right amount of pressure, just the right speed. He alternated between gently biting onto your earlobe and whispering, “dirty girl. Letting a stranger touch you like this. You’re loving it, hm? Practically begging for me to fuck you.”

He pinched your clit between his fingers, getting you to moan louder. “Please,” the word all you could speak.

“You want that? Want me to fuck you here? Your friends might hear, y’know. They’ll know how badly you’ve wanted me all day.”

You mumbled an, “mhm,” followed by another moan.

“Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.” He circled your entrance, your hips lifting to give better access. Though, he only teased you, running them around the outside and making a mess of your essence.

“Fuck me, Chan. I know you wanna, too.”

Caught, he let out a guttural growl, shifting slightly to bite into the crook of your neck and plunge his fingers into you. Three digits, he was knuckles deep in your cunt and leaving bruising marks to whatever skin he could get his mouth on. You could only lean further into his body and let your jaw drop, mumbling his name as the heel of his palm nudged your clit and fingers picked up speed.

“More, don’t stop,” you pleaded, failing to keep a lid on your noises.

His fingers curled just right, doing exactly as you asked and not stopping until you crumbled. Obscene squelching and wet noises filled the tent as you came, Chan rubbing his palm into your clit through your high.

When you came down, he pulled his hand away and brought his fingers to his lips, sucking on them and letting go with a pop.

“Tastes like heaven. You’re gonna have to let me get more than a sample next time, babe.” Want shot through you again at the thought of a next time with him, the thought of his plump lips and fat tongue on your cunt instead.

“Are you—“

“On birth control, yes. Now c’mon.”

In a hurry did he pull down his sweats, just enough to get his cock out. He lazily pumped himself a few times before running the tip through your sopping folds from behind, lifting your leg for better access. Holding up your leg and keeping himself propped up left Chan with no hands, missing and sloppily playing with your aching cunt. You reached between your legs, arching your back to get his cock to slide into you. And when he did, oh how your eyes rolled back and the lewdest of moans escaped. Chan had to shut you up by towering over and smashing his lips into yours.

He bottomed out in a matter of moments, your walls slick with arousal and orgasmic bliss. But he stilled, just feeling how you convulsed and sucked him in deeper with every clench.

“Move,” you urged, grinding your ass into his hips harder. The tip of his cock just barely brushed against your sensitive spot, but not enough. It was hardly anything and Chan was too lost in the heat of your cunt, so much so that you took it upon yourself to buck back onto him, fucking yourself on his cock while he relished in the way your body moved. 

It must’ve looked pathetic, how eager you were to come that you wriggled in his grasp to get him to screw you.

“Please,” you cried in a more desperate manner, voice rising an octave or two.

Chan took the hint, sitting up straighter and resting your knee in the crook of his elbow. He rocked his hips slowly, testing both yours and his limits. It was too gentle, too soft how he took you. There was no way you’d be able to come again like this.

“I said fuck me, Chan.”

His hips stilled, lodged in your pussy. “Hm, I don’t know, pretty girl. Beg me again.”

“I’ve been begging,” your voice grew broken, gone.

“Say please just one more time.” The teasing tone in his words made you want to curse him for even toying with you while he was balls deep. But no matter, you still caved.

“Please fuck me harder.”

A satisfied chuckle left his lips, messily peppering a few kisses to your keep and neck. “See, was that so hard?”

You groaned, playfully annoyed until he pulled out. The sudden emptiness made you whine. But Chan had another idea, gently guiding you onto your stomach and hiking just your hips into the air, back arching to the heavens and face planted in hell. His large hands smoothed over the area of your ass cheeks, placing wet kisses to your back where your shirt had ridden up. Chan hastily pulled his sweats lower to get more comfortable and took hold of his cock again, sliding in and filling you once more.

Upon your moans filling the space, he took both your hands and pinned them behind your back, using them as leverage to pull out and thrust back in hard. Your ass rippled when his pelvis collided, cunt tightening around his cock and making Chan’s eyes roll back.

“God, you’re a fucking sight to see,” he uttered, unsure of whether or not he really meant to say his thoughts out loud. 

Steady, solid pounds he left as you whimpered into the sleeping bag. Much to your pleasure, Chan had a mouth on him.

“This ass, been staring at it all day. Those fucking leggings, lord have mercy. Wanted to bend you over the picnic table and fuck you right there, in front of everyone.” His admittance to wanting you just as badly made you cry out louder. “You like that? Putting on a show for all your friends to see? I know my friends would die to see this ass up close. Guess they’ll have to settle on hearing you scream my name.” Chan brought his hand up, bringing it back down to leave a smack on your ass cheek. 

You groaned into the comforter again, biting on it to keep from making too much noise. However, Chan wasn’t having it. He pulled the fabric from between your teeth and swiped your fair from your face. “Don’t hold back, baby. Let them hear how good I’m making you feel. Make them wish it them getting to fuck you this good, that it was them getting to cream around my cock.”

Cream, you did. Chan was fixated on it, the ring formed around the base of his cock every time he pulled and pushed into your quivering cunt. He couldn’t look away, too pleased with himself because it was proof of how good you felt.

Good was an understatement, you were fucking levitating. There was a numbness in your legs that could only have been caused by a good fucking, and Chan was there giving it to you. So yeah, you cried his name as he kept your arms bound behind you using only one of his large hands as makeshift handcuffs on your wrists, the other hand reaching around to circle your clit again. When the pads of his fingers made contact with the bundle of nerves, your body jolted forward, presenting your cream covered pussy even wider for Chan’s viewing pleasure.

Oh, did that sight go to his head. His hips stuttered deep into you, head falling back as he let himself breathily moan your name. The pause he put on finishing each other off was only for a moment, because then he stole his hand from your clit and pushed into the top of your ass, signaling for you to lay flat on your stomach.

That position was the beginning of his end. As soon as you were how he wanted, the build up of cream spread further up your ass cheeks, covering them as he somehow slid deeper into you. 

“Fuck,” he let out a deep sigh, letting go of your wrists. Chan took your hands with him as he leaned over your body, wanting to hold onto you somehow.

When he started to hammer into you again, your ass jiggled even more, slapping sounds bouncing off the waterproof fabric of the tent. If water couldn’t get in, then it couldn’t get out. The both of you were a sweaty, sticky, creamy mess, unable to get enough of one another. Chan’s hips practically bounced off your ass with every thrust, keeping a steady rhythm until his balls grew extremely heavy. 

“C— close,” you managed to mumble as your brain grew hazy with every smack of his skin on yours.

“Just a little longer, baby. Fuck, you’re so wet, so tight. So fucking good for me.” His assault didn’t cease, but it did get sloppier. 

His rhythm faltered, speeding up and turning into shallow thrusts to constantly make your butt ripple and the head of his cock nudge into the sensitive spot inside you. A few more minutes, a few more rough slaps of his big hand smacking against your skin, the smell of sex filling the tent and now both your and Chan’s pleasure filled moans probably scaring away every animal within a few yards of the campsite. He couldn’t stop, you felt too good around him, your pussy was begging to milk him dry. 

“Gon— gonna cum,” you whimpered breathlessly, hiding your face Chan’s hand that kept his weight up next to you. Your cunt squeezed and released at a relentless pace around his cock, spurring him into a frenzy to reach his release.

“Go ahead, pretty girl. Let go, cream real good on my cock.” His permission allowed for you to relax into the pleasure, let it wash over you for a second time and bite into Chan’s wrist to muffle your moans— not that it did any good. You cried his name as white took over your vision and body turned into jelly beneath him. 

Limbs weak, you let Chan continue to pound into you from behind until he found his peak as well, burying into you with a deep sigh and soft call of your name, walls spasming and welcoming his seed.

Heavy breaths, Chan collapsed onto you, trying and failing not to let all his weight press you into the ground. Even though you were both a sweaty mess, he still found comfort in kissing the back of your neck, rubbing soothing circles into your hand and hip, cock still plugging your hole to keep his sperm from spilling out. 

“Probably don’t have to worry about bears anytime soon,” he mumbled into your skin, eyes closing at the comfort of your body’s natural scent.

“The only bear in my tent just fucked me six ways to Sunday.”

Both you and Chan began to drift off, feeling content and full with his body acting as a blanket. Just as you were falling into darkness, Jisung’s voice called out, “Hope you’re both done scaring the animals and traumatizing your friends.”

-

A/N: I love doing requests. I feel like I write them better than coming up with ideas from scratch and idk why. but this was fun!! send me more :p

-momo < 3

[luxaofhesperides]

ghostlights prompt with "it's okay, you're safe now" hurt/comfort?

It takes over a month to find Danny. 

Thirty seven days of panic and ever growing dread, searching for him every single day. Duke hasn’t felt this way since he was in foster care, running away from whatever home he got placed in to search for his parents. 

The first week was spent trying to find any trace of Danny, working on nothing but his last few messages and a voicemail he left Duke, where all he said was a whispered, Call me back when you can. I might just be paranoid, but I think someone’s following me. I’m walking home right now. I… I don’t know, I feel a little sick, Duke, I— And then static before the voicemail ends. 

There hadn’t been any sign that Danny made it home. No cameras caught sight of him after he walked past a bus stop. No one around on the streets to tell him what happened. 

One moment, Danny was there. The next, he was gone.

He had to recruit the rest of the Bats into searching for Danny, and his guilt of outing Danny as a meta (half ghost, as Danny called himself) was easily buried under his desperation. Duke knows the statistics. The chances of finding someone after three days drop drastically, and after enough time, it’s safe to assume they’re dead even if people keep searching. 

Jason promised to interrogate some traffickers moving outside of Crime Alley, updating Duke weekly on any other kidnappings that might be related to Danny’s case. Tim had been checking around Danny’s neighborhood, slipping in and out of spaces to gather information, leaving behind cameras and bugs on the off chance the kidnappers came back to the area. Barbara hacked her way into the messages of traffickers, trying to find any mention of Danny. Even Bruce had gotten involved, looking into Danny’s background to see if there was anyone that might be connected to his disappearance.

Vlad Masters wasn’t a lead. He had no idea Danny was missing when they called, and he ended the call immediately to begin his own search.

Thirty seven days.

Duke didn’t want to lose hope, but all he could think about were the empty spaces in his life where Danny once was. 

And now, on the thirty eighth day, Duke jerks awake as his cell phone rings at max volume and he scrambles to get it. He’s not risking another missed call, not after Danny disappeared. 

He doesn’t have time to say anything once he accepts the call before Jason is saying, “We found him Duke. Babs is sending the location to the GPS of your motorcycle. Suit up and meet us here.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s…” Jason hesitates. “He’ll live. But these fuckers did a number on him, from what we've read in their files. We’re waiting for you and the others to get here, and then we’ll take them out while you get your boy to safety.”

“I’m on my way,” Duke says, already pulling his suit out to get changed. He hasn’t bothered to bring it to the Batcave for weeks, spending most of his time out on the streets as the Signal. It’s just easier to have it on hand than to go to the Batcave to suit up, or to leave it in the Hatch. He chucks his phone back onto his bed and is jumping out the window of his apartment just a minute later, dropping down to street level just as his motorcycle pulls up on the street.

He’ll have to remember to get Babs a gift basket or something when this is all over. It’s the least he can do after she’s helped him so much over the past month. 

“Thanks, Babs,” Duke says into his comm, switching it to a private line with Oracle. She hums an acknowledgement, but otherwise doesn’t respond. Not that Duke has much in him for conversation; all his focus is on Danny, Danny, Danny.

The GPS on the motorcycle leads him to the outskirts of GCU campus, in one of the buildings that had been closed off after a fire earlier in the year that they still haven’t fixed due to the amount of mobsters who liked to pass through it, using it as a drop sight for arms deals. Red Hood leans on the chain link fence surrounding it, watching as he approaches.

Duke all but jumps off the motorcycle to reach Red Hood, barely remembering to turn on the cloaking to hide it from sight.

“Where is he?”

“Basement,” Red Hood answers, and even through the helmet, Duke can hear the tightness in his voice that means he’s doing his best to hold back his rage. “Red Robin and the Batgirls are in there, getting Oracle access to their computers. They’re going to make sure no one slips by us. I’m going to make them wish I had been kind enough to kill them, and you’re going to take your boy straight to the Batcave where the Doc is waiting with Alfred.”

It’s not much of a plan, but Duke trusts the others to do what they need to do. All he cares about is getting Danny out of there. 

“Lead the way.”

They scale the fence easily, and there’s no one on the upper levels when they walk in. Not even a single camera to alert anyone to their entrance. Red Hood leads him down a stairwell, ignoring the way the shadows around them move on their own, Duke’s agitation making them twist into some dark nightmare. 

He sees the flicker of light as soon as they step out into the basement hallway. All the light bulbs above their head are broken, covering the floor in sharp glass, and doors going down the hall are all left open, some barely hanging onto their hinges. The building is a wreck, graffiti decorating portions of the wall, and it looks abandoned. He would bet even mobsters avoid coming down here; it’s all sorts of health hazards.

Normally, he’d be cautious. He would sneak through the wall, sticking to the shadows and staying hidden as he went deeper in, ready for anything. 

Duke hasn’t been thinking clearly in weeks. He sees the light, the soft white glow he associates with Danny, and tears after it like a man possessed. 

Distantly, he hears Red Hood curse behind him, and then he’s turning the corner, feeling the familiar burn in his eyes as his powers kick in and let him see the small ball of light flickering weakly as it guides him through the basement level. 

Red Robin and Batgirl’s voices fill his helmet and Duke doesn’t waste a second in muting his comm; if there’s a problem, they can work it out with Red Hood. Now that he’s so close to Danny, he’s not letting anything get in his way. 

The first guy he runs into is a surprise. Clearly a scientist, judging by the lab coat and the notebook in his hands, paired with the dark circles stamped beneath his eyes. He barely has time to open his mouth, looking alarmed, before Duke slams into him, tackling him to the floor and knocking him out with a quick hit to the temple. 

A vent in the ceiling falls down, and Red Robin pops out.

“They’re keeping him in the back, locked in. I’m warning you now, it’s not a pretty sight.”

“I don’t care,” Duke snaps, “I’m getting him back.”

“We’ll clear the way and keep them from stopping you,” Red Robin says.

He whips out his bo staff and sprints away, kicking in a door. Duke follows after him, ignoring the yells from the other scientists gathered in there, leaving them to Red Robin’s tender mercies. 

The light leads him to a room hidden away in the lab, a small window in the door that is too dirty to see through. The door is locked, so Duke feels out the shadows around him and uses one to slip into the room.

And Danny’s there.

Danny, never without a smile, glowing and funny and so, so sweet, is lying curled up on the floor. There are shackles around his ankles, keeping him trapped in the room with the chain nailed into the wall. His wrists are bound in meta suppressant cuffs, leaving him weak and vulnerable. That’s not the worst thing.

The worst thing is the visible wounds Duke can see on him, sluggishly bleeding. There are blood stains all over the floor, cuts along his arms and thighs, clothes torn into nothing but dirty rags. There’s a large incision on his chest, going down from his collarbone to his navel, hastily stitched together in a way that only keeps it slightly closed, the stitches loose enough to be pulled out with a single pull. 

As if sensing his gaze, Danny blinks his eyes open, staring at the space next to Duke. Slowly, his gaze slides over, eyes hazy with pain and exhaustion. He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

Duke kneels next to him, pulling off his gloves to cup Danny’s cheek as gently as he can.

“Hey,” he whispers, overcome with both grief at the pain Danny had to go through, and relief at finally finding him. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Danny doesn’t try to speak again. Instead, he closes his eyes and leans into Duke’s touch, relaxing. 

“I got you honey, it’s alright. I’m gonna get you out of here and take you to some people who can patch you up.”

He slides his arms beneath Danny’s body, lifting him into his arms. 

He doesn’t remember much of what happens next; it’s all a blur of movement and feeling blood slide over his hands. Later, he’ll hear the others give their report, telling of how they found Danny following the trail of a university professor bragging about a paper that would make him famous for a deeper understanding of meta biology. They’ll recount their scouting, the information they stole, how many people they fought and captured. They’ll talk about how the shadows completely overwhelmed the basement when Duke left with Danny, traveling through shadows at a speed he had never achieved before, going farther than he’s ever been able to. 

Leslie and Alfred input their own medical reports of the torture done to Danny and how long he’ll need to be in recovery, checking for infection and possible side effects to his powers. 

All of that will be important later. 

Duke doesn’t care about anything at all when he’s finally able to return to Danny’s side once Alfred and Leslie are done patching him up. The weight that’s been on his shoulders for the past thirty seven days is gone. The sight of Danny’s blue eyes fluttering open is the most beautiful he’ll ever see.

“Hey, honey,” he says softly, holding Danny’s hand as he wakes.

Danny smiles at him. “Duke,” he whispers, “I knew you’d find me.”

“Always, honey. Always.”

. . .

[send me a ghostlights prompt!]

[yellowhollyhock]

day 21, adopting a pet

Nightwatcher gets a kitty <3

With one last tug, the restraints were secure, and he could leave his quary to the police.

"Maybe you and your friends will think twice next time about fooling around in this neighborhood," he suggested.

The thug protested vehemently into his gag. Raph raised his eyebrows.

"Not really in a position to make demands," he taunted. "In case you didn't catch everything while you were getting your butt kicked, your buddies didn't get away with the stolen weapons and the shopkeeper called the police. And you know, the police ain't always as nice as I am about getting talked back to."

A clatter around the corner got his attention. His job here was done, and it was a big one--an organized heist by a group he'd been tailing for a while. The kind of thing that would keep the media a little off his shell, something the police would see as a worthwhile contribution in spite of themselves. The kind of scuffle going on around the corner--arguing, some hitting--that was domestic violence or assault. More serious crimes in Raph's book, but not the kind of thing that ever made Nightwatcher look like a hero. Once he intervened, he may as well be the thug who started it as far as the press was concerned.

He turned into the alley.

It was just a dumb kid, looming over something, probably a smaller kid, and kicking, just taking out his anger. Raph made himself big; it would be good if this one just ran off without having to get hit first.

"Hey!"

As he'd hoped, the short figure startled and then scrambled. Raph shook his head at the cowardice, and crept closer to assess the damage.

A mess of yellow, white, and black fur, huddled against the dumpster. She crouched and hissed, angry yellow eyes fixed on Raph's slow, steady movements.

He crouched down, hands out in front of him for her to investigate.

"Hey, girl, are you hurt?"

She batted a claw at him. He winced as it scraped against his armor, pulling back more for her sake than his.

Ideally, he should have had some kind of treat to offer to help her know he meant no harm. Since he didn't, he tried to give her plenty of space while he looked her over for injuries. More than anything, she just looked emaciated. She favored her front left paw, and the same side of her face had a long scar. It didn't look fresh.

"It's okay, you're safe," he soothed. He wanted to give her some food, and he would probably be able to find some in the dumpster, but if he started digging for it, she would definitely run off. He needed to gain some trust first.

She was still on edge, after all he had her cornered. But she must be curious, too; she could've gotten away if she'd wanted. He held one hand out to her. She sniffed it cautiously.

"That's it; no worries. I probably smell like all kinds of trash that I've been digging through tonight," he alluded to the situation around the corner that the police should be taking care of any minute. "But I'm a nice guy.

Once she seemed more curious than nervous, he moved his hand up to gently pet her. At first the touch made her tense again, but when it proved gentle, she approached. He let her crawl into his lap.

"There, you see? I'm just a big metal softie. Wouldn't do a thing to hurt somebody like you. Now are you gonna stay while I find you some food?"

About an hour and a couple of discarded hot dog scraps later, Raph was lingering outside the lair, a matted bundle of fur nuzzling contentedly against his plastron. Her paw was wrapped as well as he could manage in some old newspapers. He needed Donnie to look at her paw and Mikey to help name her--he was debating between Razor and Darling.

But first he needed to figure out how, exactly, he was going to explain this to Master Splinter.

[numinous-scribe]

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Tim Drake & Original Characters, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Danny Fenton

Characters: Nocturn, Jonathan Crane, Batfamily members

Warnings: Medical Inaccuracies, Unreality, Dreams vs Reality, Nightmares, Monsters, Body Horror, Blood and Gore, Minor Character Deaths

Please go over the tags carefully and only read if you are in a good place for it.

Summary:

Tim is used to pushing his limits, in all aspects of his life. Detective work and Wayne Industries leaves little time for things like sleep or relaxing. Still, he knows when to give into the demands of his body. A lead in a new case takes him to Arkham Asylum. An inmate and a guard, dead in the medical wing, both barely harmed. They match the other victims they've found― with the evidence impossibly pointing to death by nightmare. With Crane no longer a suspect, the Bats are scrambling to find what's causing this rash of unexplained deaths. But with the infection spreading across Gotham, and with one of their own in the crosshairs, it's only a matter of time before this strange new enemy wins. +++ Day 7: "I pace around for hours on empty, I jumped at the slightest of sounds." Day 12: Red, Insomnia

Inspired by "We're Longing for Daylight" by @akela-nakamura

[saremina]

I'm gonna be posting some older oneshots here too.

This is from the Love&Abuse verse, taking place between Love and Abuse and Delicate and Vicious, around ~2700 words.

Enjoy!

Sometimes Jonny wishes his job was less ‘caretaker’ and more ‘personal driver’ like it used to be in the beginning. When Harley was there to take care of Joker. And when Bob was there to pick up the slack when Harley and Joker broke up for a few weeks.

And now he has to get breakfast and walk a dog at ungodly hours after a night of trying to keep Joker from getting murdered because he thought spilling beer on Black Mask’s latest girlfriend because she didn’t want to give her stilettos to Joker, and then chopping her foot off to get her to relinquish said stilettos (can’t forget that), was a good idea.

Basically, Jonny is exhausted. Constantly.

He still does his best to not make too much noise when he lets Pumpkin into Joker’s apartment (good side of being a valet instead of personal driver: Jonny gets to live rent free down the hall), and closes the door quietly; Joker is a light sleeper when he’s not in a drug induced coma, and Jonny doesn’t want to deal with the foul mood accidentally waking him up because Jonny ‘breathes too loud’ creates.

So Jonny tiptoes deeper into the apartment, yawning as quietly as he can—

and nearly drops the bag he’s carrying at the sight of Pumpkin gnawing on a piece of what looks an awful lot like Batman’s armor.

What the hell did he miss?

Shit. Did Batman break in? Joker is going to murder him if that happened.

Quietly—just in case Joker is asleep and not waiting in some corner for a chance to kill Jonny for letting Batman find his home—Jonny takes the bag into the kitchen, and pulls out his gun. Pumpkin gets up when Jonny enters the living room, catching onto his tenseness.

When she heads into the bedroom, Jonny follows her at a safe distance. The piece of armor is still in her mouth, and it scratches against the bedroom door as she opens it with her nose and paws. Jonny is far more quiet as he follows, his gun at ready. He peeks through the door, finding the room quiet for the most part. Pumpkin has discarded the piece of Kevlar for the cape; she’s pulling at it, no doubt ripping holes into it, probably ruining it in the process.

There’s no dead or maimed Batman, though. There is Joker, sound asleep atop of Bruce Wayne.

Okay.

Jonny stretches his neck and surveys the room. There’s discarded gauze among the pieces of armor. But no Bat-corpse. Which would mean…

Oh no. No. No, nope, not happening. Fucking shit, this is not happening to him.

He stumbles back and hurries to the kitchen as quickly as he can without making noise. He’ll empty the bag, because Joker without his morning coffee is far more terrifying than Joker who has gotten his morning coffee, and then he’ll leave town, change his name, and move to some backwater place with no internet or phones or cameras or anything that could be used to track him.

He’ll definitely need to leave the country as well. Maybe even the continent. Europe might be nice; he’s always wanted to visit, anyways.

With the coffee maker on—bless the thermos pot—and the breakfast in the fridge—Jonny had learned not to bring anything that would need to stay heated to be edible a long time ago—Jonny turns around, only to find a revolver at his face.

“Jesus fuck!” He scrambles to get a hold of the counter as he gasps for breath. How silently can a person move? Holy hell that’s horrifying. “Hi, boss. The bulldog was back at the park, but we handled it. And Happy’s kid is having a birthday party. I’m trying to figure out if we can attend because of the—the cake. And—”

Joker cocks the revolver, his frown shifting into a more are-you-serious-right now look, which isn’t really better. He clicks his tongue—never a good sign oh god Jonny is going to die in a kitchen, murdered by his boss who’s wearing that dark pink, lacy dressing gown with those poofy sleeves and hems he’d bought just because he started dating Bruce Wayne who is apparently also Batman, and he wanted the perfect outfit for when the police came to question him on whether or not he killed Wayne, and he wanted to descent the stairs like one of those rich widows who definitely killed their husbands in movies—and… lowers the revolver? Even if it’s just an inch or two, it’s still unexpected. “Now, I don’t really wanna shoot you.”

Jonny has entered a twilight zone. “I’d rather not be shot.”

“Great! Common ground.” Joker smiles in that too sweet way he does when he’s seconds away from fucking someone up. “But we kinda have a problem, here. A dilemma, if you will. See, I like you. I know I pay you to be nice to me and stick around, but you’re the best pretend-friend I’ve got. And you’re great at your job. Replacing you would be a hassle.”

Jonny nods. The coffee maker puffs out hot steam as it finishes brewing the coffee.

“But,” Joker continues. “You do get that I can’t exactly let you go and run around tellin’ everyone about Brucie, right?” Joker waves the revolver over his shoulder at the living room.

Jonny swallows and nods again. “Sure. But—”

“So what am I supposed to do here?”

Coffee. Jonny needs coffee. He raises his hands and inches towards to the cupboard with the mugs, the counter pressed uncomfortably against his back the whole time. He doesn’t want to turn his back to Joker, but he has to if he wants the coffee so he risks it, grabbing Joker’s favorite mug so fast he almost drops it. He hurries back to the coffee maker, pours the coffee, and adds sugar and just a tiny drop of milk into the coffee before handing it to Joker.

He’s never gotten the milk thing. The amount is so minimal it barely changes the taste of the coffee, and Joker has no problem drinking coffee without milk, so why add it? And if Jonny even thinks about adding milk to a triple shot of espresso, Joker will berate him for his stupidity for the rest of the week.

Joker takes the coffee and sips it. That should give Jonny a few seconds before his brain gets scattered across the kitchen surfaces. “I’d never do anything to compromise your operations or safety or—”

“I’m not the one at risk here,” Joker points out, his voice so sharp Jonny flinches.

Shit. “Yeah, could I finish a sentence?” The look of shock on Joker’s face is almost worth Jonny’s chances of walking out of there alive dropping to zero. “Also, permission to speak freely?”

“You’re not already doing that?”

Jonny takes that as a yes. He’s already dead, anyways. He sighs and pushes his hair from his face, and spreads his hands. “Look. I keep your secrets to my grave, no matter how hard the road there is, and it’s got nothing to do with money. Or the fact that you’re terrifying.”

Joker’s smile loses a hint of its cruelty. “Aww, thank you!”

“You’re welcome. The point is, I don’t tell your business to anyone, under any circumstances, and it’s not because you’re my boss or professional pride or any bullshit like that; I’d like to think we’ve got some kind of… mutual respect thing going on here? Maybe? Or maybe it’s just on my side. The point is, I don’t spread your business around, and as far as I’m concerned, whoever you’re sleeping with is your business, so I keep it to myself. Even if it’s…”

“Batman?”

“Yeah.” Jonny sighs again. “Double incentive to keep my mouth shut if there ever was one, actually. Not that I’d need it because it’s your business, and I keep all of that to myself until I die. Like I said.”

Joker regards Jonny closely as he sips his coffee until Jonny is sweating in his spot, his heart racing in his chest. Finally Joker puts the revolver on the table, but he keeps his hand on it. “That so?”

“Yes,” Jonny says with conviction that’s (fortunately) real.

Joker shifts, cocking his head. “Well, this was easier than I thought.”

Jonny shrugs. “I aim to please.”

It gets a genuine laugh out of Joker, which is always a good thing. Maybe Jonny will live though this after all.

“Ya know, you are definitely the best paid-friend I’ve ever had.” Joker flashes Jonny one of those rare, genuine smiles, and raises his cup. “So glad I shot Bob and got you to replace him—not that Bob wasn’t amazing, he was. Bless Bob and may he have many margaritas wherever he is these days. But I kinda like your attitude better.”

Okay, no. That’s not going to fly, not if Jonny is not getting shot. “You’re not paying me to be your friend.”

Joker tilts his head from side to side and hums. “Yeah, I kinda am.”

“No—” Joker can look so incredulous when he wants to “—you’re paying me to drive you around and take care of your dog and… clean up and do groceries and stuff. I don’t hold your hair back when you’re throwing up from too much drugs or alcohol because you pay me; I don’t sit with you to four in the morning listening to you talk about your relationship problems, or do online shoe shopping in PJ's because you pay me either. I do that because… well, I dunno how much of a friend you can be with your boss, but I’d like to think we’re that.”

Joker blinks, his face having gone dangerously blank. “You think we’re… friends?”

“Aren’t we?”

Joker’s jaw clenches and his hand goes to the revolver again. Jonny would take a step back if he wasn’t already pressed against the counter. “Whoa! Don’t—”

Joker points the revolver at Jonny’s face. “Don’t bullshit me.”

“I’m not—”

“Because I’m not in the mood for that, and you’re not even going for something worth laughing about later on.”

“I’m not! Jesus, how does anyone have a relationship with you if you react this badly to having a friend?” Jonny bites his tongue. That… was probably not a good thing to say.

For a moment, Joker remains absolutely still. Then he laughs and lowers the revolver slightly—but he still lowers it and that’s what’s important. “So you think we’re friends?”

Jonny licks his lips and nods slowly. “As much as anyone can be friends with their boss, yeah.”

“How much is that?”

“No idea.”

They regard each other in silence, Joker with a dangerously calculating look, Jonny fearing for his life.

Eventually Joker lifts the revolver to his shoulder. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Joker places the revolver and the coffee on the table. “So we’re friends. Ish. Whatever.”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” Joker bites his lower lip, then he smiles, grins and makes a high pitched keening sound. Jonny barely has the time to wonder what the hell is going on before Joker throws his arms around his neck and pulls him into a crushing hug.

Jonny oomphs, his arms flailing around. What the fuck? What the ever-loving fuck is happening? What is he supposed to do? Is he going to die? He’s probably not going to die, unless it’s from a lack of oxygen caused by Joker hugging him too tightly. Holy hell he’s strong for such a wry guy. He’s all limbs; he shouldn’t be able to choke Jonny with a hug.

Cautiously, Jonny puts his arms around Joker and pats his back. Joker only squeezes him tighter, making another one of those happy noises. That… good? “Any chance you could not choke me to death?”

Joker lets go of Jonny, but he stays well within his personal space, a happy smile on his face.

Jonny clears his throat. “So. Bruce Wayne is Batman, huh? Didn’t see that coming.”

Thankfully, Joker laughs at that. “He’s so sweet when he’s Brucie and he’s got ten different kinds of soap and cream made of diamonds or some shit. And then he hits you like a freight train while he’s cosplaying and breaks all your bones and then you have to stay in the ICU for a month. He’s adorable.”

Jonny doesn’t know about that, but he trusts Joker’s judgment.

“Oh!” Joker claps his hands together. “I gotta clean up. Could you make me breakfast?”

Jonny nods, confused and a little worried, but since Joker still has a happy smile on his face, it can’t be that bad. Jonny pulls the things he’d just put in the fridge back out and heats what needs to be heated while Joker does… something in the living room. Going by the sounds, he’s picking up the armor.

He returns as Jonny starts setting the table, singing under his breath. He stays out of Jonny’s way, observing him in that silent way of his.

When he’s done, Jonny straightens up and turns to face Joker.

“Don’t worry, he’s asleep.” Joker cocks his head towards the bedroom. “I slipped him a sedative last night.”

“Okay.” Jonny shifts. “So, uhh… just to clarify, now that you’re dating Batman—”

Joker makes an earsplitting sound and hops in his spot, clapping his hands together. God, he’s like a child sometimes. “I know! I always said it’d happen.”

Jonny nods. “You did.”

“And now I’ve got him and I can’t tell anyone. Do you know how much I just wanna let people know I was right: he’s totally into me! There are so many people who said I’m delusional but I was right.”

“You were.”

Joker nods. “And he loves me. He said that. I got Bats to admit that.” Jonny hums and nods, and sits down with his coffee. Joker slumps in the seat opposite of him with a happy sigh, and accepts the coffee Jonny offers him. “He’s so cute with his little, pointy ears and all that brooding.”

Jonny keeps agreeing as Joker babbles on about Batman and Bruce, sometimes like he doesn’t realize he’s talking about the same person, until Pumpkin starts yapping in the living room. Joker switches topics to needing to buy new clothes on the fly. Jonny does his best to pretend he’s following the one sided conversation until Bruce enters the kitchen, running his hand through his hair. “Your dog still hates me.”

“She can sense you don’t like her.” Joker leans back in the chair and smiles at Bruce. “You gotta be nicer to her.”

Bruce grimaces and sits by Joker’s side. He offers Jonny a brief greeting and pours himself coffee from the pot Jonny had placed in the middle of the table.

Jonny mumbles a good morning and shoves toast into his mouth. He’s eating breakfast with Joker and Batman.

Fuck his life.

Fortunately for him, Bruce’s attention soon turns back to Joker. “What’s with the, uh…” he waves his toast at Joker’s dressing gown.

Joker looks down on himself, then turns his attention to Bruce with a happy giggle. “It’s for when I murder you and Gordy comes to question me.” Joker sits up and puts on his dramatically shocked face. “’No, Commissioner, I didn’t kill him; I could never hurt him. He was so sweet and kind. I don’t know who could have done such a thing.’ Think he’d fall for it?”

Bruce smiles and shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Oh, I will need to be at your place for this to work.” Joker points at Bruce, turning more towards him. “Mostly for the staircase. I could also cry for effect. Like a single tear? And I need the kiddos and Niles on my side.”

“I’ll make sure they’re aware of it,” Bruce promises, smiling at Joker as he launches into a detailed explanation of how this supposed murder and it’s investigation would take place. Jonny would be concerned over it if it wasn’t for the warmth in Bruce’s eyes as he watches Joker act out his imagined scenarios of murdering Bruce and then covering it up.

Yeah, they love each other.

And as far as Jonny is concerned, anyone who tries to get in between them can go fuck themselves until Joker is busy with something that doesn’t require Jonny so that Jonny can hunt that asshole down and shoot them between the eyes.

[radiance1]

So an au where Jack and Maddie accepted that Danny's is a halfa and proceeds to rewrite their multiple papers, reprogram their ghost hunting equipment to not go off on Danny and fighting to remove the Anti-Ecto acts.

In the mean time they tell Danny to get out of Amity Park in case the GIW figure something out or they come to their door and somehow catches Danny Ecto signature, so he leaves (Albeit reluctantly) to Gotham city and does his thing and somehow catches one of the Bats attention (or the whole family either or)

and this somehow leads to a DNA test that can barely make out Bruce's DNA and that's all it takes for the Batfam to try and adopt him or something (Reason could be that Maddie was made using Bruce's DNA for, whatever reason, and thanks to Danny's very scrambled DNA it only made out a part while the rest if scrambled to all hell)

and this leads to Danny saying that 'yea I already have parents' but when asked he's says they aren't in the city (also his Jokes being strapped to a table by his parents, the sentient food and the scars doesn't help at all)

So, he gets adopted by the Batfam anyway and just decides to go along with it. Then a few weeks after he had fell asleep, he wakes up to find himself fully human and freaks the fuck out (Also yes Tailia Al Ghul had a hand in this) and tries to escape multiple times,

He gets pretty far because yea he doesn't have ghost powers, but he isn't a slouch in the martial arts one either. But because of his unfamiliarity with Gotham city compared to the Bats very rich experience he gets caught again.

So, he decides to call his parents and has a breakdown over everything and Jack, Maddie and Jazz (Plus Vlad because I like semi-redeemed Vlad) head straight over to Gotham city to get Danny back. They don't care if they got to fight God himself, Jack and Maddie tried to fight the ghost King so what's a few furies in spandex.

[byersbootyshorts]

Revenge is Sweet - Chapter One

Emily briefs the team on their new case and shows them a video which Spencer and Harley find all too familiar.

Word Count: 1,535

Warnings for this chapter: torture, blood, drugs, weapons, stabbing, beating, murder, language (damn this is worse than I thought)

Series Masterlist | Prologue | Next Chapter

“Ok everyone, this is a bad one,” Emily said when the team had settled around the round table. From Emily’s solemn expression everyone could tell they were in for a tough case.

“Last night the body of Assistant Director Oscar Hernandez was found in a graveyard by a couple of teenagers. He had been tortured and murdered,” Garcia began, clicking her remote so gruesome photos of the victim appeared on the screen.

Harley and Spencer remained poker faced, although their heartrates increased at the sight of their handiwork.

“Wait, you mean Assistant Director of the FBI Oscar Hernandez?” Alvez asked.

“Uh huh,” Garcia said, sitting down and handing over to Emily.

“Now, because Assistant Director Hernandez is such a prominent member of the FBI we already have the ME report.” Emily lifted the stack of files in front of her and handed everyone a copy.

Spencer and Harley quickly skimmed through the report. They exchanged a knowing look, remembering how it felt to inflict each wound they read about.

The team were silent until JJ gasped. “Oh God, look at the cause of death.”

Spencer looked to the bottom of the report, already knowing what he’d find.

Cause of death: Dilaudid overdose.

When Spencer lifted his eyes from the report he saw every one of his teammates looking at him sympathetically. Even Harley was doing a pretty convincing job of acting surprised.

“Are you sure you want to work this case, Reid?” Rossi asked. “We’ll all understand if you want to sit this one out.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m over all that now,” Spencer lied.

Everyone nodded but Spencer could still feel a few concerned eyes on him.

“It’s classic torture,” Tara said, getting back on track. “This person is obviously a sadist.”

“Actually, it’s not a person. It’s people,” Garcia corrected. “Two people to be exact.”

“How do we know this?” Matt asked.

“This was found in the Assistant Director’s pocket,” Emily answered, holding up an old tape. “They recorded the entire thing and left it there for us to find.”

“And this is where I’m going to leave you guys,” Garcia said, scrambling to pick up her bag. “I’ve already watched this once and I do not plan on watching it again.”

Emily waited for Garcia to exit the room before she hit another button on the remote. On the screen there appeared a scene which only two of the teammates recognised. Harley leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table, trying her best to look as nonchalant as possible. Spencer kept his eyes on his files in an attempt to hide his guilty expression.

The walls were metal, grey and rusting. Some of the corners even had what looked like mould growing in them. The room was dimly lit by a flickering light which hung haphazardly above a table. The contents of the table made the team understand why Penelope didn’t want to watch the video again. Knives, baseball bats, needles and vials filled with some kind of transparent liquid lay neatly on the wooden surface. But the worst image on the screen was the body of the Assistant Director, his eyes wide with terror. He sat bound by the wrists and ankles to a chair. Blood trickled from a wound on his head. He struggled frantically to free himself, but was having no such luck.

About ten seconds into the video a dark silhouette walked into frame from the corner of the room. It was clear from her figure that she was female, but that was just about all the team could deduce about her. She wore a long red buttoned up coat and black boots that came all the way up to her knees. The black gloves and ski mask that she wore ensured no identifiable features could be seen.

She made her way towards the table of weapons and waited for a moment, as though she were pondering which instrument of torture she should use. Eventually, she picked up a large knife and then turned and gestured to someone off camera. Within seconds another figure walked into frame.

This one was definitely a male. He was taller than the female unsub but wore the same gloves and ski mask. His red shirt was buttoned all the way and was tucked into black suit pants. He walked over to his counterpart and picked up a baseball bat with no hesitation.

Then, both unsubs turned around and walked towards the camera and, for the first time, they spoke.

“Hello, agents,” the male unsub said. His voice was distorted, making it unrecognisable. “By now you’ve obviously found Assistant Director Hernandez’s body.”

Hernandez whimpered behind them, realising his death was inevitable.

“And we thought, it just wouldn’t be fair to have all this fun with no one to witness it,” the other unsub said manically. “So, please, sit back and enjoy our moment of payback.”

The unsubs turned their attention to the Assistant Director. His screams were muffled by the gag in his mouth as they drew nearer, weapons in hand.

“After you, darling,” the woman said, motioning for her partner to begin the horrific act. He obliged and swung the baseball bat behind his head before bringing it down on the victim’s ribs. He slumped over and screamed in pain. Tears fell from his glazed over eyes and he struggled to catch a breath.

“Now you know what it feels like, you bastard,” the taller figure said with a calm voice.

The shorter of the two, however, wasn’t as cool headed. She knelt in front of Hernandez and held her face only inches from his. Hernandez shut his eyes and turned his face away from her.

“Don’t you dare shut your eyes,” the unsub shouted, brandishing her knife in his face. “Shit like this happens every fucking day and all you have to do is read about it on a report. But this time you’re going to witness it. You’re going to see exactly what goes on while you sit in your fancy office profiting off of other people’s suffering.”

She pulled the knife down his left arm, leaving a trail of blood as she went. Hernandez squirmed but there was nothing he could do.

She got up from her knees and allowed the male unsub to have another swing. He lined up the baseball bat and this time brought it down on the Assistant Director’s leg. An excruciating crack echoed throughout the room. Hernandez sobbed, almost blacking out from the pain. He whimpered ‘please stop’ but it came out as incoherent whines through the gag in his mouth.

“Wow, nice one baby,” the more manic unsub laughed giddily.

The male unsub didn’t reply but he intimately touched her arm before stepping away from the tortured man.

The female unsub once again approached Hernandez and knelt down to meet his face. She leaned on his now shattered leg, putting agonizing pressure on it. Hernandez breathed erratically, unable to bear the pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Does that hurt?” the woman asked sarcastically. Hernandez nodded. “Good,” she said darkly. “Maybe now you understand why we’re doing this.”

She ran her finger gently along the blade of her knife, as though she was considering what to do next. Then, suddenly and quickly, she thrust the knife into Hernandez’s abdomen. He doubled over in agony. The unsub twisted the knife slowly, dragging out his pain for as long as possible.

Eventually she got up again, chuckling to herself. The knife was still wedged into Hernandez’s stomach as he started to cough up blood.

“Ok, I think he’s had enough,” the male unsub said. He walked over to the table of weapons and picked up a needle and a vial. He efficiently filled the needle with the clear liquid, that the team now realised was Dilaudid, and flicked it to get rid of the air bubbles. “Now we need to give him something that’s going to make it all better.”

The woman watched eagerly as the man rolled up the Assistant Director’s sleeve. He took a piece of material from his pocket and tied it around Hernandez’s upper arm. The victim whimpered uncontrollably as he came closer to the end.

“That’s what they always say,” the unsub continued. “‘This will make it all better.’ But guess what? It doesn’t.” He carefully inserted the needle into Hernandez’s arm. “All it does is bring you more pain.” He slowly released the drug into Hernandez’s arm. It coursed through his veins and for a brief moment he felt relief. He felt his pain dissipate. Until there came a new pain. His heart began to burn and beat faster than he thought possible. He began sweating and slowly slipped from consciousness. He went limp in the chair he was bound to. And then he was gone.

The male unsub moved away from the now dead body, set the needle and vial back on the table and grabbed the hand of the other unsub. Together, they walked towards the camera and stared deep into the lens.

“This is only the beginning,” the masked man said before reaching behind the camera and cutting the feed, causing the screen to plunge into darkness.

[gaeilgeoirgay]

Whumptober 2021  Day Twenty One

pretend you were a good man

Jason has already been having a shitty night when his “brother” lands beside him in an alleyway, a smile on his lying face. He snarls and turns to face Nightwing, with green already burning in his eyes.

“The fuck do you want, Golden Boy?” He says, and God, he hopes Nightwing will either get the message and leave him the fuck alone, or he’ll start a fight, because Jason is itching to hit something, and the liar’s face looks particularly punchable tonight.

“Hey, Hood. I wanted to talk to you about a case I was working on before Spyral. B’s files said you’d picked it up when I died and I wanted to know how it went.” Nightwing says cheerily, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t faked his death and left the rest of the family torn apart and grieving. As if Spyral was just a brief blip in their lives that had no effect on anyone.

“I’m sure you can find everything in Daddy Bat’s folders. I’m not in the mood to talk to a traitor. Don’t you get it? You fucked up, Goldie, and none of us want you in the family. We were better off when you were “dead”, because then we could at least pretend you were a good man.” Jason says angrily and Dick looks taken aback, as if he somehow hadn’t realised what his fake death had done to them all.

“Jay, I never wanted to do that to you. I didn’t even want to go undercover in the first place and I’m so sor-“ Jason cuts him off with a punch. It slams into Dick’s cheek and although Dick is probably the best fighter in their family, he doesn’t even attempt to dodge it.

Jason follows up with another punch, the green taking control and he forgets how to hold back, how to restrain from breaking bones, he just hits.

The body falls-

And Jason follows-

And he hits them-

Again-

And again-

And there’s blood-

He doesn’t stop-

He hits and hits and-

There’s a cry of pain-

A weak defence-

But Jason keeps going-

Another punch-

A bone snaps-

And then-

”Little w-wing, st-stop”-

A choked gasp-

And the green recedes like the tide before a tsunami, but there will be no waves to follow it, he swears, because the water has done enough damage, because he recognises the body he’d been hitting and Dick is unconscious beneath him and there is blood in his brother’s hair and Jason is the one who put it there.

Jason scrambles off his brother and takes in deep breaths until his lungs are working with him not against. He looks down at his trembling hands, and his knuckles are split and covered in blood, but he’s sure that not all of it is his.

He goes to Dick next, tries to assess his injuries under all the blood. It’s soaked Dick’s hair and Jason knows that head wounds bleed a lot but this looks serious, and oh my god, what if he’s done permanent damage? Jason knows how strong he is, knows he’s capable of beating someone to death and he never wanted to do that to Dick.

With shaking hands, he uses a tissue to wipe away the worst of the blood and gags when he sees what he’s done. Dick’s jaw is definitely broken and there are countless small gashes across his face from Jason’s fists, still bleeding sluggishly.

Then Jason checks the rest of him, and yep, there’s a broken rib and that ankle is definitely fractured. Jason doesn’t even know how Dick’s ankle broke, because he sure as hell didn’t hit him there. Maybe it was from Jason landing on top of Dick, or maybe Dick had fallen awkwardly after Jason started hitting him. Either way, Jason’s given Dick at least three broken bones.

He carefully lifts Dick and carries him to Jason’s motorcycle, propping him up in front of him as the bike roars to life. Jason heads to his main apartment because that has the biggest amount of medical supplies and curses his decision to put his actual apartment at the top of the building because the elevator is agonisingly slow.

Jason lays Dick down on the bed, plastic coverings keeping it free from blood stains. He unzips the Nightwing suit carefully, fighting the urge to throw up at every successive bruise in the shape of his own fists. His plentiful med kit has a handheld scanner and it tells him everything he needs to know.

Definite concussion, but no serious permanent damage. Broken jaw, but it’s a clean break. And a myriad of soft tissue bruising, plus the fractured ankle he’d already noticed.

Jason treats Dick’s wounds carefully before pulling up a chair beside the bed and grabbing his laptop. It’s time to be the detective he’s supposed to be, rather than just an angry pair of fists. There was inconsistencies in Bruce’s story and Jason is determined to fill them in.

Three hours later, he’s found everything Bruce had tried to bury about the whole Spyral debacle. He finds a clinical report that details all of Dick’s injuries after being tortured and an addendum that mentions how long his heart had been stopped and the possible symptoms to watch out for after.

He finds the video recordings of the one-sided fight in the cave and the spy career it resulted in. Watches Dick plead with Bruce, listing off their siblings names, including Jason’s, as reasons for him not to go. Watches as Bruce beats the shit out of him anyways.

He finds the increasingly desperate pleas to come home, as Spyral tears his kind brother to pieces. Dick hadn’t known Bruce had amnesia. He probably thought that Bruce had left him there, as some kind of punishment.

Jason slams his laptop shut and opens the window for some air. Jesus. He knows Bruce isn’t exactly winning any Father Of The Year awards, but he had never expected this. Not to Bruce’s Golden Boy, his first born.

There’s no way he’s letting Bruce get away with this, but he has to fix the damage he caused first. Dick is still asleep but Jason resolves to apologise as many times as he needs to and more as soon as he wakes up. He lost his brother to Bruce’s machinations before- he’s not losing Dick to his own stupidity now.

[lustbile]

To Provoke

Incubus!HaechanxReader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: dom-ish haechan, semi public (alley way), oral&fingering, biting, blood consumption, & can maybe be interpreted as degrading but not really

notes: a resounding thank you to whoever gave haechan curls and horns im in love with you nct stylist person. I wrote this all today and it made me stupid so I will try to go through and do more editing. Also not that I think anyone would, but I made the edit for this, horns and all, and im asking politely no one repost it, i know it’s not the most extravagant edit but im asking u pls.

Nct Masterlists

Multi group Masterlist

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You were trying to provoke him.

You were always trying to provoke him.

Everything you did, every move, blink, sigh, and turn was an attempt to pull him from the shadows.

To admit you’re addicted to him is embarrassing, degrading even, especially with the way it fills his chest and wild eyes with hunger and pride. His ego was one thing that never needed to grow, big enough to fill every nook and cranny of the universe, but something about the way your pretty eyes would glitter at him in awe pushed it over the edge in free fall.

The outfit you chose to wear was maybe a bit too revealing for the weather, the nipping cold dancing along your shoulders and thighs in a way that makes your stomach clench and your teeth chatter. But it was the same outfit you had worn on the night you had met him, the outfit that his greedy fingers tugged and pulled on to get access to your skin, and it still had the smallest of tears in the seem from his impatience that night.

But it got you attention, and that's what mattered in the end.

He had always had a jealous streak, something he’d deny sharply if you had the nerve to accuse him, but that didn’t change the fact that some of your best nights with him were spent after he showed up to remind you that your body and skin were for him only. And that jealousy was the exact thing you needed to get him to show his face again.

It had been far too long since you had felt him last. You had no clue where he could have possibly ran off to for such a long time, but that didn’t stop the fire that was building in your belly. And no matter how many times you tried, your own wandering hands were never enough to quench your body’s thirst like he could.

The man you spoke to at the club meant less than nothing to you, even when you felt his growing excitement pressing against your back when you agreed to dance with him. The sloppy kisses you allowed him to press against the skin of your neck felt no different than just air as your mind was too distracted by the man that had taken ownership of your heart and soul so long ago, regardless of his absence.

It didn’t feel long before the lights became too bright, the alcohol that sloshed in your cup too bitter for your tongue, and the smell of the strange man too stale and unfamiliar. But when you pushed away from his chest and checked the time on your phone, while you ignored his grumbled complaints of you being a tease, you saw that it was only a handful of minutes past midnight.

You had stayed out much longer than that before, much later in fact and with glee, but something in your chest, a heavy and daunting weight, was pulling you towards the entrance on unsteady feet and a taunting disappointment on your shoulders.

Your mind still felt muggy even after you broke away from the stuffy environment of the building, but you brushed it off as a combination of the minimal alcohol you’d consumed and the angry unsatisfied monster that had made home in your gut.

You had enough of a head on your shoulders to scan your purse for your pepper spray and pocket knife before you decided that maybe the short walk home would help clear your mind and disappointment. It was still cold, your icy fingertips begging for a uber or cab instead, but you were hoping the biting chill would help calm down whatever lustful beast you had become because of a man you couldn't even contact.

Your legs felt too heavy to carry with every step you took, your neck feeling like your necklaces were made from tons of lead instead of whatever cheap metal the random online store you had ordered them from used. You were grateful that the only company you had on the back streets you had chosen to take were the flickering street lamps and the skittering rats you could hear in each alley you passed.

You could almost taste the relief of the cheap bottles of wine you had stashed in your kitchen paired with a trashy netflix horror film when you turned onto your street, your apartment building somehow looking inviting with its old brick and foggy windows as it sat on the corner. The only thing stopping you from kicking off your heels and making a run for it being the memory of one of your less than polite neighbors dropping a large glass vase and not feeling any need to pick up the broken pieces before leaving for the day.

Instead you grit your teeth to help bear the pinching of your shoes, and break into a quick and awkward jog down the desolate stretch of sidewalk. Your eyes watering as you're met with icy air.

Peace and warmth and cheap familiar alcohol is only a few strides away when you hear it. To anyone else in the city it would have been no different than the sounds of an everyday creature scavenging in the trash for food, but you had lived here long enough to know what's a rat or raccoon or, in this case, a cat.

It was a stray you had befriended long ago, one that could climb and duck into your conveniently opened balcony door for a bowl of food and a scratch behind the ears. It was just a sweet little boy that was grey and covered with scratches and scars, but due to a no pet policy had to be kept labeled as a stray and a secret to your landlord.

You huff in frustration, assuming he would have been curled up on your couch when you returned home and not chasing rats in the alley next to your building, but he had always been mischievous from the day you met him. So with the hope that you could block his image from the security cameras, you turn and head into the dim light of the small alley.

You had lovingly dubbed him Oscar when you came home more than once to your trash can tipped over and learned he had a special love for garbage, and that name along with some weird chattering cooing left you mouth as you tried to coax him from whatever trash can he was creating chaos within.

Your teeth were already gritted and you back stiff as the playful feline found enjoyment in jumping out and scaring you in times like this and you assumed this time would be no different as his evilness seemed to only raise as it got deeper and deeper into the night. So you were already mentally prepared for an attack from an overly excited ball of fur, what you weren’t prepared for was a voice.

“What are you doing out so late?” the voice was gruff and slightly accusatory and made you all but jump completely out of your skin. And as you whip around in circles to try to find the face that the words feel from, you see your love and joy Oscar jump from the tallest trash can and scale the fire escape up to scramble back into your home like a guilty teenager that was caught by their mother.

“I asked you a question,” this time the words were followed by strong hands gripping your shoulders and a shrill yelp escaping your throat.

Your hand was pushing into your purse for at least one of your weapons as you squat to get out of the person's hold and turn to see their face, the grinning and prideful boy behind you washes you with a wave of relief before stabbing at you with annoyance.

“Haechan, what the fuck,” you whisper harshly as you pull your hand from your purse and stand up straight, your now free hand now moving to jab a rough finger into the dip of his chest, “how many times? How many times have I told you to not fucking sneak up on me like that. I know the pepper spray can’t hurt you and a stab wound would heal in like five minutes but that doesn’t mean I want to stab you, idiot.”

“Why not?” his head jerks back as if you said something dumb like the sky wasn’t actually blue or he wasn’t really the sexiest man to live, something that just has no logic behind it in the slightest, “like you said it would heal so maybe we could try, might be kinda hot.”

He punctuates his words by grabbing you roughly by the waist, his other hand wrapping gently around your neck before he pushes you against the rough brick behind you, the permanent evil glimmer in his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Do you ever get tired of being an absolute freak?” you thinly veiled insult doesn’t pack as much of a punch as you had maybe hoped, but when he begins to mouth at the skin of your jaw and cheek you can’t really find it within yourself to care.

“Well isn’t that why you like me?” he asks rhetorically as he starts to nip light bruises in the spots that blur your vision, “freaky me must be your favorite, because otherwise you wouldn’t be dressed the way you are.”

He’s no wrong, not even in the slightest, but the confident way in which he says it is enough to make you want to lie, “wanting you and liking you are two different things, no one ever said I liked you.”

“Oh but you want me,” the way in which he takes everything you say in strides without even batting an eye is bit infuriating, but the way his fingers tighten against your neck and push into your jugular is enough to make you melt against him, “that’s what you said so for once that’s not me putting words into your pretty little mouth. But don’t say you don’t like me, that’s a dirty lie and we both know it.”

“You don’t like when I lie?” you pout at him, trying to pull more and more reactions from him, “but some of your favorite things I say are lies, like how big you are and how well you fuc-“

“Alright that’s enough of you,” he interrupts, his fist tightening that much more and his other slipping from your waist to reach under the hem of your dress, a satisfied growl and his tongue pressing into the inside of his cheek being his reaction when he realizes the underwear he was grabbing for wasn’t there, “I’ve had to watch you prance around all night, letting a low down dog of a man touch you. And for what? My attention? Baby, you already have my attention.”

Your words stutter violently, the only sounds coming from your throat are whines and gasps as his fingers slip between your thighs and glide against the dampened skin, never staying on your clit long enough to give you the pleasure you need but enough to make you squirm.

“You were watching me?” you finally gasp out, before it clicks in your brain how dumb of a question it was. He told you a long time ago that he always will keep an eye on you, and knowing what he is and the things he can do, you had no reason to not believe him.

“I always am my pretty baby,” he coos before pressing teasing kisses to your open mouth, seemingly tasting and feeding off of every little noise that slips out, “and it hurts to see you let such a nasty man touch you where only I should. You didn’t even notice him following you out of that trashy club did you, silly thing?”

You jerk back as much as you can with the way he holds you, eyes widening at the news that you were apparently being followed without your knowledge. Every emotion that swims in your brain feels like its fighting for dominance, but with the way he chooses to dip his middle and ring fingers just barely past your entrance you’re struggling to cling to just one.

“God, you are so lucky to have me aren’t you? Who else would take care of creeps and make you feel good hm?” he tilts his head as he speaks, his breath warm against the side of your face before his tongue dips to lick at the shell of your ear, “no one can make you feel the way I do can they?”

“No,” you finally answer after a moment, the word coming out as an airy breath as his fingers finally sink in all the way. He wastes no time before curling them and pressing at the spot that makes your knees buckle, “please Haechan, need you so bad.”

“Oh is that one of those infamous lies of yours you were talking about?” he pulls away slightly, but shows no interest in slowing the motions of his hand, “well it can’t be can it? I can always tell you know? Can hear the way your heart picks up when you lie, much different than the way it does when you’re about to come for me.”

His wrist starts to move faster, the heel of his hand finally pressing and rubbing against your clit as the muscles of his forearm start to strain. The telling signs of your orgasm feel too sudden, too fast, and with his hand still constricting the blood that tries to flow to your head all you can do is let your eyes roll as your breathing comes out as small puffs.

“But since you’ve asked so nicely,” you can only let out a pathetic cry when he pulls his hand away from you suddenly, your lack of oxygen being the only thing stopping you from letting out a scream loud enough for the whole block to hear as he denies you of any stimulation. All you can do is let out incoherent babbling and whines as your hands reach up to dig your nails into the leather jacket protecting his forearms.

He releases your neck, your skin burning from the friction and the sudden amount of oxygen and blood returning to your head making you dizzy. And while your eyes roll as they try to refocus and your heart rate begins to slow to normal, he grabs your wrists and pushes your weakened form to be flush against the wall thats scrapes against your exposed skin.

“You are by far the best thing ive ever tasted,” he mutters, not concerned with whether you heard him or not, before his mouth latches to the side of your neck. He seems to find the most interest in the finger prints he left behind, as he pulls the tender skin between his sharp teeth and works to create a bruise that won’t leave you for another week.

Regardless of denying you a proper release, he considers himself to still be a generous guy. As his tongue lays flat against the burning skin of your neck, he starts to kick at your feet until your clumsy legs are falling apart wide enough for him to press his thigh against your skin, and in the exact way he predicted, you can’t help but to begin grinding helplessly against him.

One of the main reasons the dress that you currently wear is one of his favorites, is the neckline. Low enough to show the expanse of your chest and just enough of your cleavage to make him salivate. He’s as transparent as glass with this love, especially as he mouth travels down between your collarbones and sternum.

You can hear a quiet pop in the fabric of the neckline when he bites down and begins to pull it with him as he sinks down to the floor, the huff you let out being both in frustration from him further ruining a nice dress and your impatience.

The straps dig harshly into the skin of your shoulders before they give and fall, the sudden lack of support making it easier for Haechan to take the fabric and expose your chest to the cold air.

The look in his eyes when you look down is mean and predatory, you fear one day he’ll snap and consume you whole, but for today he settles for wrapping his swollen lips around your nipple and sucking harshly.

Your hips quicken involuntary, broken moans filling the empty alley as you twitch and squirm in his hold. He seems to grow irritated at your impatience as he shoves your wrists back harshly, his knuckles audibly scraping against the brick.

“You can never be patient to save your life,” his head tilts forward and he presses his forehead against your sternum with a huff before he’s leaning back up to press a sloppy kiss against your panting mouth, “you’re lucky I missed you so much or otherwise you’d be in for a lot longer of a night.”

He keeps your wrists trapped in his hold as he moves to kneel on the ground, the rough and dirtied pavement doing nothing to help the tears that already litter his jeans.

You feel your face flush when he lets go of one wrist and uses his newly freed hand to shove the hem of your dress up and around your hips, and the burning beneath your skin only worsens when he leans forward and breathes deeply with his nose pressed against your pubic bone.

He leans back for a moment, his hand wrapping around the bend of your knee to pull your leg to rest on his shoulder and you feel your shoulder sting from the wall cutting into your skin from him moving you like a doll.

“Haechan,” you whisper his name out with a pout that you hope will get you exactly what you want, but you can only huff and petulantly twitch when he begins nipping and licking at the skin on the insides of your thighs.

His teeth are sharper than most, and he usually airs on the side of caution because he’s aware of this. His bites are gentle for the most part, but when you begin to peak in your feelings of impatience, you can’t help the way your hips begin jerking forwards in search of his tongue.

His palm pushing against your hip is his first warning, a generous one in his opinion, but when the warning seems to fly completely over your pretty little head he has no other choice but to lean forward and sink his teeth into delicate skin at the bend of your thigh.

You cry out for a second before you’re tucking your lip between your teeth. It stings terribly, the skin breaking around his teeth burns but you can’t stop the way you revel in the sharp pain. And at the exact same moment you taste the metallic ting of the blood falling from your bitten lip, you feel the same warm thick liquid drip from the wounds he’s created and straight into his grinning mouth.

More blood falls freely when he pulls his teeth from your flesh, his warm tongue flattening against the injury immediately to catch as much of the liquid as possible.

He laps at it for a moment, savoring as much of the taste of your life source as possible, before he starts at the bottom of the bite mark and drags slowly up.

Once his tongue moves off the wound, he continues across your skin. The moment he hits your labia, you let out a gasp and jerk against him again, your mind completely erasing the fact that the bite was meant to be a punishment for that exact thing.

He seems to have forgotten him wanting you to remain still, as he doesn’t hesitate in the slightest until his licking across your stil swollen bundle of nerves.

He moans as the flavor of your arousal mixes with the still lingering taste of your blood, the vibrations shooting straight up your spine and making you shiver.

He tilts his head up to smile at you, his eyes shining as he grabs your hands and moving them to thread into his curled hair.

“Why are you shivering?” he asks with a faux concern, his right hand smoothing over your thigh before pushing between your legs to return his fingers to their spot inside of you, immediately pumping and curling them slowly, “are you cold or something? Maybe it’s because you’re in such a skimpy little dress?”

You groan out in annoyance at his playful act, your eyes rolling back but for once not in pleasure. It’s not until he starts to proudly giggle to himself do you exploit the hold you have on the back of his head to push him back to your body.

You fear that being shoved around may be the exact thing Haechan would have wanted, when he happily moans before latching his lips to your clit again, but the pleasure that melts your muscles erases any need to call him out on his deviousness and perverted enjoyment.

He seems happy with your moving hips when they start to move against his waiting face. Your fingers mindlessly and desperately tug at his scalp as your head tilts back and thumps against the wall.

The hand that isn’t pressed deeply inside you slides across your hip, his callused fingers making goosebumps run up your arms as they push into your lower belly.

You can feel yourself fluttering around his fingers as the curl and push apart, your thighs tensing around his bobbing head as he licks and bites gently at your clit. It feels like it’s harder to catch your breath and you know you’re only moments from orgasm.

“Please, please,” you start to stutter the word over and over, praying both that he lets you come and that you’re neighbors are deep enough in sleep to not hear the noises you know will escape you.

You almost cry in relief when you feel his shoulders shift, his face and fingers both pressing deeper from the movement in a way that tells you he has no intention on letting up on your shivering body.

His blunt nails start to scratch into your skin and you can feel his heavy panting breath against your skin every time he begins to lap at you desperately. You can feel your muscles lose even more strength, and your head becoming heavier and dazed as he coaxed you closer and closer to your finish.

Your shoulders twitch up towards your ears and you feel your stomach clench as your back curves, small whines and whimpers leave you as the heel of your foot thumps against the space between his shoulder blades.

You gasp out when you feel it, them. They start as small bumps beneath your palms, and you feel your chest tighten when it clicks what they are.

He’s always had a good hold on controlling them, keeping them hidden so he can wreak havoc without being clocked as something inhuman. They had peaked out a few times, usually in moments like this, but it’s such a rarity that you can’t stop the way your heart begins to thump in your chest.

Out of everything about him, you were obsessed with all of him, but you loved his horns the most. They were small and sharp at the side of his head and the way he looks when they’re poking out amongst his curled hair, and especially when he was grumpy or mad, made you want to jump on him and kiss him all over.

You were so caught up and distracted by them growing to full size directly under your hands you forgot how sharp they were at their tapered ends. The reminder you get is when they sharply down push into your palms like thorns.

You gasp sharply, but the way they curl makes you afraid to pull away. It makes you tremble and flush with embarrassment, but the pain bleeding into your hands is the last straw on your nerves. All you can do is wrap your now bleeding hands around the horns and cry out into the cold air as your erratic hips move across his face.

He groans deeply against you as your nails scrape at the skin that surrounds the base of his horns, the feeling of his and his still moving tongue pushes you through and past your gasping orgasm.

You sign in relief when he finally detaches from your body, his mouth moving up to press your hip and across the space of your stomach the dress reveals. He puts your leg down slowly and he creeps back up your torso, now hyper aware of your wounded hands still stuck on his horns.

“Sorry my love, they’re kinda sharp aren’t they?” he rhetorically asks with a soft but guilty grin. He stays ducked down enough that your hands don’t go too high that they start to slip, and he follows with his own to help you detach them.

“I just keep making my mark on you tonight huh?” he sighs as he stands at full height and brings your still bleeding hands to his face. You grit your teeth and scrunch your nose when he gives you a knowing look that says ‘we both know what I have to do.’

He is quick and gentle when he swipes his tongue across the deep cuts in your hands, not wanting it to sting more than necessary.

A teasing grin fills his face when he looks up to see the tired pout on your face, “just like the one on your leg, there won’t be anything left than a bruise if you just wait like an hour,” he’s sincere in his words, and you know it works, but you still feel all wounded and tired.

“Take me home,” you demand, wrapping your slowly healing hands around his shoulders and leaning until your head rests against his shoulder.

“Hey now,” he contradicts his tone by wrapping his arm around your waist and helping guide you walk to your apartment, “you still have to feed Oscar, and take a shower, and I’m not even full yet so you have to let me play with you until I wear you out.”

His tone is far too genuine and loving for the words he says, and you swat weakly at his chest in annoyance, but all he does in response is a laugh.

[liviuswrites]

Sasuke kind of loves where Naruto lives, though he isn’t quite sure why.

He likes the smell of salt by the sea when they open the window, and he likes how Naruto looks outside on the shoreline, wind in his hair and water at his feet. He likes how Naruto looks at home, even when a storm rages, he’s always right where he belongs. He likes the cozy feeling of the Uzumaki household, it’s just a house on a small island, where Naruto knows all the local shop owner’s, wearing them down with barter, but they still always smile at him when he walks through the door.

Sasuke desperately wants to kiss him.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Naruto jumps onto his bed, where Sasuke is half-laying against his headboard, schoolwork open on his lap.

Sasuke raises his eyebrows, as if he would reveal that information out loud in actual words. He and Naruto were currently caught in something. It felt inevitable, like they’d been caught in things before.

“If you purposely have terrible perminship to cover up your logs,” Sasuke proposes instead.

Naruto squints at him, clearly not buying it.

“I’m not gonna get caught.” Something a little mischievous appears in those ocean blue eyes. “Sweet of you though, to worry about me.”

His gaze turns a little more searching, and Sasuke always feels a particular way, when Naruto looks like that. Sasuke doesn’t personally think his thoughts are all that different from anyone else’s, but sometimes, it feels like Naruto wants to know every single one, like he’s never had access before, like he has to soak up everything he can, before it’s gone. It makes Sasuke’s chest hurt, and if anyone were to ask, he could never justify why.

Naruto asks again. “What were you really thinking about?”

It’s a nudge. Sasuke doesn’t know why Naruto does that — uses that careful, more gentle tone — except that maybe he worries about overstepping. Maybe he’s worried that Sasuke was thinking about his father’s recent death, and just hadn’t wanted to say so out loud.

“I like where you live,” Sasuke gives.

There’s a small release of tension in Naruto, and Sasuke watches it fall away under that hideously patterned orange shirt. Naruto has an attachment to a specific color scheme that must go back lifetimes for how stubbornly he clings to it. Sasuke has tried to sway him from it to no avail, and it’s easier to think about that, rather than what if he gives the answer Naruto is so scared of. He’s not quite sure what it is, or how to prevent it; he’s not sure he could guess it, even if he tried.

“Guess it can be hard, moving around so much,” Naruto offers, by leeway of giving room for Sasuke to expand.

“I don’t mind it,” Sasuke says and he means it. Though, he hesitates, gaze lifting. “I just... like it a little more here.”

It costs him to say these things, sometimes, like a lump caught in his throat, but it’s always worth it when he can manage.

Naruto’s smile is immediate, small and knowing. “Are you trying to say something, Uchiha?”

Sasuke can’t run from that challenge. Naruto is already moving in any case, there’s no time to even consider running, as he shifts over Sasuke to lean down, as Sasuke’s arms curl up and around—

Sasuke freezes. “Naruto,” he says.

Kushina looms over them, tapping a frying pan against her hand like a baseball bat. Naruto pauses at Sasuke’s pause, catching on and following where Sasuke’s eyes are looking, and turns to—

Scramble for his life.

He makes it to the edge of the bed, before Kushina has pulled off his jacket, which Naruto quickly twists and sheds, but unfortunately, not everyone is blessed with grace, as Kushina yanks on the sleeve just in time to offset his balance, sending him to the floor with a yelp. Flat on his back, Naruto holds his hands up in surrender, and laughs the most sheepish, red-handed laugh that Sasuke has ever heard. It threatens a small smile at his lips, but Sasuke isn’t idiotic enough to piss off Naruto’s mother.

“Naruto!” Kushina raises her voice, standing over him. “What did I say about leaving the door open when Sasuke is over!”

“It’s not like that, Ma, really—”

“It’s a little like that,” Sasuke corrects, because what? He values honesty. His job is to make Naruto’s parents like him, not to take the heat.

Naruto throws him a look of betrayal, and his eyes narrow even further when they notice the tiny quirk in Sasuke’s mouth. Sasuke refuses to take the bait, raising his eyebrows with false innocence. Naruto needs to get in trouble once in a while. Otherwise, he’ll get caught for the things he should actually get in trouble for.

“Door open,” Kushina growls. “I won’t allow my son to be a delinquent, yanno!”

Naruto nods with such enthusiastic agreement, a bobblehead would be jealous. Satisfied, she turns to Sasuke and smiles. “Nice to see you again, Sasuke. Say hi to your mom for me when you go home before your curfew. No more sneaking through my obedient’s son’s window, okay?”

Saskue nods, politely. He likes Naruto’s mother. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and all that.

Though, he does appreciate her for what she did for his mom. Since Kushina suggested she come back to her hometown after the funeral, his mom has been doing better. It’s been strange, to see his mom function in a completely different element, where the shopkeepers talk about her and Kushina getting in trouble together as little girls. Before coming to the island, he didn’t even know his mother had friends.

It’s been... nice.

Kushina takes her frying pan and her leave. Naruto groans, sitting back up.

“I hadn’t even kissed you yet,” he complains. “She has some freakish sixth sense.”

“Well, you are a delinquent.” Sasuke plays devil’s advocate. “And I did crawl through your window.”

It’s difficult to find alone time on a small island, especially on a small island where the guy you keep trying to make out with knows everyone, and while his own mom is a little more... laid back than Naruto’s, at least in terms of open doors, Sasuke doesn’t want to cause her any trouble right now. He thinks Naruto inherently understands this, because he never suggests his house.

“Who’s side are you on?” Naruto huffs. “And I dunno what you think you’ve pieced together, but I’m not a delinquent.”

It’s almost a mutter, and Sauke gets the impression that he’s not a delinquent, but he is something. Sasuke watches Naruto stand back up, eyeing the door where his mom left, like he’s seriously considering bolting it shut, while Sasuke contemplates on revealing what he has pieced together. It just seems pointless when he’s relatively certain Naruto won’t tell him the rest, if not to protect whatever he’s involved in, then to protect Sasuke’s deniability if he ever does get caught.

“Smuggling—” That’s all Sasuke gets out before Naruto is tackling him and clamping a hand over his mouth.

The clock ticks as Naruto watches the door like prey waiting in the brush, holding its final breaths. When there’s no sign of either of his parents, he turns back to Sasuke with a firm look of warning, before removing his hand.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Is that it?” Naruto asks. “A stroke, an aneurysm?”

“I was aiming for brain aneurysm, actually, until I remembered you need a brain for that,” Sasuke points out with a smug smirk that he knows will drive Naruto up the wall.

He enjoys watching Naruto’s hackles rise.

“Just because you—Ugh,” Naruto eloquently voices, like he might start pulling on his hair. Sasuke quirks an eyebrow in encouragement, that may or may not be a trap. He wants to know the truth. If he’s reached the correct conclusion about Naruto’s spare time activity. “It’s not something you want to be involved in, okay? Why can’t you just drop it already?”

There’s a desperate note in Naruto’s voice, an askance for Sasuke to stop. Out of worry. Out of concern. But that’s why he can’t drop it. Why the hell does Naruto always sound like that?

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Sasuke finds himself asking, and the backlash is immediate. Not from Naruto. Naruto just blinks at him, looking vaguely startled at Sasuke’s flinch, and then just confused. The internal backlash strikes with enough ferocity for everyone involved. He’s showing too many cards. He knows he is, and he can see the rigidity of his father’s face, too soft, those eyes said, too emotional, and Itachi’s quiet agreeance, it’s better this way.

Sasuke pushes at Naruto’s chest, telling him to get off without words. “Curfew is in a few—”

“No, Sasuke.” Naruto grabs his wrist, halting movement. Sasuke refuses to look at him, too open, too exposed. “No.”

Words can’t find their way out of his mouth, so he stays silent. The salt in the air suddenly feels far too thick.

“It’s not like that,” Naruto reassures, quickly. He lets go of Sasuke’s wrist, leaning back onto his own thighs to give them room. Sasuke studies a spot on the wall, until Naruto’s apparent distress draws his eyes back over, watching him push a hand through blond hair. Those frustrated blue eyes have taken partial to the wall too. “It’s... complicated.”

Sasuke observes the frown in his mouth. He’s already shown his cards. It’s too late to take it back.

Maybe it’s an argument worth committing to. It’s a foreign concept to Sasuke outside of his family. He hasn’t had many friends in his life, and even those he would consider friends, he’s never found much of a point in fighting. If they want to be stupid, then they can be stupid. Sasuke is hardly domestic enough to start little arguments. He can remove himself if he doesn’t want to be involved. Until now, apparently.

He cares if Naruto is stupid.

“Complicated sounds dangerous,” Sasuke tests. “You’re not denying it’s dangerous.”

Naruto’s mouth thins. His eyes refuse to come back to Sasuke, and Sasuke knows what it means. Naruto isn’t willing to argue.

He’s not willing to talk about it.

Sasuke waits, carefully, for what feels like several stabbing heartbeats. Naruto probably regrets it — the first time he took Sasuke out on his boat, gifted to him on his sixteenth birthday, two years ago. Traveling by boat was the only way to get to the mainland, and Kushina made Naruto his official guide when he and his mom first arrived, to both of their horrors.

He and Naruto incidentally met the day before at school, eleven kids to a grade. It would be hard to miss each other.

Naruto took him out anyway, and they grumbled and bickered for a majority of it, and they’d ended the night with Choji’s famous Kraken Skewers. Sasuke isn’t the biggest fan of squid, but he ate it anyway, after being convinced by Naruto that it was a crime against humanity not to try it.

On their way back, growing comfortable around Naruto at an unusual rate, he started poking around and noticed the logs. His memory has always been pristine, and he knew there were more crates underneath the deck than what it said on his logs. Naruto played it off, I crate over extra goods sometimes, Naruto admitted, caught and rubbing the back of his neck, there’s this girl...

Sasuke completely bought it, he didn’t even question it, in fact he immediately told Naruto he didn’t need to hear it. He’d been around enough guys his own age to know they were annoyingly obsessed with girls and Sasuke had no shared interest.

In hindsight, there’s a good chance Naruto had a hunch and wielded it as a weapon of redirection.

Given, the illusion was shattered when Naruto kissed him.

He probably wasn’t sneaking extra goods to a mainland girl, but it was a decent cover. Especially when the maritime patrol were mostly older men, who liked to reminisce in their testosterone riddled days as a teenager, or whatever the fuck. Sasuke wonders how many times that story worked, and how many different ones Naruto has told.

Sasuke began to notice more, how easily Naruto crawled in and out of his bedroom window, like he’d done it a thousand times, the bags under his eyes, the way he could anchor his boat in the dark, not a single light needed. Sasuke can tell apart Naruto’s real smiles and ones that meant something different, like he was sad, or just a little too tired of something heavier than this island could hold.

But Naruto thinks he can hold it. And he thinks he can do it alone.

Sasuke collects his study books and shoves them into his bag, sliding out from underneath Naruto and off the bed. Naruto still won’t look at him, hands resting on his knees, and mouth pinched.

“You know I’ll figure it out,” Sasuke says. It’s not a threat. It’s just the truth.

He pauses in Naruto’s doorway before leaving. He hesitates. He can’t help that he notices these things. One day, the pieces will fall into place, and it will all click together, whether he or Naruto wants it to or not.

“You should decide how you want that to happen.”

He doesn’t notice Naruto frown at the door when he walks out.

[chiliiscereal]

So my friend has been on and off lately.

I decided to write this for me cause I needed it.

Requests are open!

Chosen last

Summary:

Readers friends only invite them to things if they have no one else to go with. Reader keeps their mouth shut about it and just guesses that this is how friendship works. One day they meet the turtles and April, and for once they’re not chosen last.

Pairing: platonic turtles x reader

(Implied female reader but I’ll do my best to avoid pronouns! Sorry if a she/her slips out)

“I couldn’t find anyone else to go with me so do you want to tag along?”

“I had a plus one and everyone else was busy.”

“No one else can make it and I don’t want to be lonely. Wanna go with me?”

“Sorry I guess I forgot to invite you!”

“What do you mean you were there? I could have sworn you were somewhere else... huh poor memory I guess.”

“Sorry! There’s no room for you to come with! Next time for sure though!”

All of those were common things you’d heard before.

You weren’t exactly sure if it was a normal thing in friendships. It must be since no one else mentioned it.

Still, it hurt that you weren’t prioritized. You were always the last thought. Last minute.

And you always said yes.

Someone needs you to be their plus one for the dance so they don’t look bad?

There you are.

Someone needs a wingman for this boy they like?

You’re already on your way.

It’s not that you minded.

You just wanted to be... appreciated.

You just wanted them to see you.

Maybe they would if you kept trying.

Maybe they would if you made them a homemade gift for each birthday.

Maybe they would if you always answered back their texts right away.

You thought you needed to earn the right to be appreciated.

You realized how wrong you were when you met the turtles.

————

You brought your jacket closer around your body, shivering.

Of course you had to walk home! Alone! In the dark! In the RAIN!

Apparently it was too much to ask for a ride home after hanging out. There wasn’t enough room in the car!

Of course.

Just like every other time, asking to come along was too much.

You shivered again as rain dripped down your back.

“This sucks.” You groaned.

You eyed every dark alley way. You’d read enough fanfiction to expect some cringey creepy man to come out and attack you.

But what DID attack you was completely unexpected.

“LOOK OUT!” A voice shouted.

You didn’t even have time to flinch before something landed on top of you. The weight of it brought you to the ground with a shriek.

“Sorry about that!”

That wasn’t a ‘something’ but a someone!

They scrambled off you quickly.

You stood up and whipped around, rubbing your aching head. “What the hell were you doing?! Do you do parkour on the rooftops or something?!”

Ugh, today just wasn’t your day.

Finally, you glanced up.

They... they clearly weren’t a human.

Green skin...

Orange dots?

A... a shell??

And an orange mask.

Your jaw nearly dropped.

The creature gave you a sheepish grin. “Umm... hey! Yeah... maybe.. possibly... I was doing parkour on the roof...?” He rubbed the back of his neck and eyed the sky, a blush forming across his face. “I was on my way... my way to the comic con!”

He must be looking for a way to leave.

You weren’t ready for that though. You still needed to know what he was! And possibly his name!

You inched closer, holding your phone closer. Just in case. “What... what exactly are you?”

His eyes were on the floor now, as if your words had made him... upset.

“Sorry if that offended you!” You responded immediately. Ugh why did you word it like that? You didn’t mean it as if you thought he was a monster! “I just... I’ve had a really confusing night, my mouth runs faster than my brain, and I just got body slammed into the cement!” You rubbed the back of your head again.

He seemed much more satisfied with this answer. “Well... I don’t think you’d believe me...”

You eyed him up and down. “Dude, I think just looking at you would be enough for me to believe you.”

He let out a small laugh. “So ummm... yeah. I’m a turtle?”

You frowned. “Yeah, I think I see that.”

Well this was a strange turn of conversation.

Why not?

It’s New York after all.

He shuffled nervously. “People aren’t really supposed to know about it.”

You waved him off. “Psh, I don’t have anyone that would want to hear it or believe me anyway.” You stepped closer, your grip on your phone loosening. “Honestly, that’s pretty cool! I didn’t know people like you existed!”

It hurt but it was true.

Your friends would think you were making stuff up for attention.

“MIKEY!”

The new voice cause you to nearly jump out of your skin.

Three people, just like this guy, landed by his side.

One with a red mask and build like a tank.

Another with a blue mask and strange yellow stripes.

The last one had a purple mask and a staff of some kind.

“Are you okay, little man?” The red one asked worriedly. “You just took a huge fall!”

���I swear you’re gonna be feeling that a week from now.” The blue one snorted, resting his SWORD on his shoulder like it was a baseball bat.

“I estimate it’ll be closer to three weeks.” The purple one corrected, tapping a device on his wrist.

You stepped back.

There were more people like... Mikey? Was that his name?

Well, might as well find some way to get into this conversation. You weren’t gonna let the most interesting thing that ever happened to you slip away.

“You’re name’s Mikey?” You asked, the three surrounding the orange masked turtle jumping.

“Human!” The blue masked one shouted.

The large red one shoved Miley behind him. “Hi! Uh... we... we were just on our way to Comic-Con!”

“Guys-.” Mikey tried only to get Interrupted.

“Could you help us find our way?” The purple one joined, cutting him off.

You raised an eyebrow. “Nice try. I already know you guys are turtles.”

“Dang it Mikey!” The blue one shoved Mikey. “You just gonna spill our secret to everyone you meet in New York?”

“She deserves to know!” Mikey squeaked. “I messed up a flip and body slammed her into the concrete!” He turned to you, eyes hopeful. “And... she didn’t seem scared of me!”

This stopped the other boys.

Mikey shoved them all away from him. “These are my brothers! Leo,” he pointed at the blue one, “Donnie,” the purple one, “and Raph!”

You waved awkwardly, eyes landing warily on the largest one.

These guys didn’t seem as sweet and trusting as Mikey.

Donnie was looking you up and down for any sign of a threat.

Leo has his sword out.

Raph has his tonfas ready in his fists.

Maybe it’d be better to just leave.

“I’m not gonna tell anyone.” You shook your head to further emphasize your point. “I was just walking home anyway. All of this...” you spread out your arms, “was a complete accident.”

Mikey gave you a toothy grin. “Yeah, sorry about that.” He turned to his skeptical brothers. “She seems nice! She could be just like April!”

You kicked at the ground sheepishly now that the attention was back to you. “You can just go and I won’t tell anyone.”

“We can’t just let you go.” Donnie scoffed.

For a split second, you thought they were going to kill you for finding out their secret. Or kidnap you. Something bad.

“Not with that whole situation.” He gestured to your forehead.

Curiously, you reached up and touched it.

Your fingers were wet with blood.

Go figure.

“No, it’s fine, really.” You assured them. “My apartment isn’t too far-.”

“Please, it’s fine.” Raph waved you off. “It’ll make up for this bonehead over here.” He loosely jabbed his thumb in Mikeys direction.

You wanted to say yes.

You wanted to say yes so badly.

“I don’t know, you probably got plans.” Leo shrugged, putting his sword away. “It’s a Friday afternoon, after all.”

That was enough for you to make a decision.

“No, I’m actually free.” You offered. “I actually don’t even have a medicine kit at my house-.”

“Alright let’s go!” Mikey grabbed your wrist excitedly and lead the way, not even waiting for you to finish your sentence.

————

You only meant to spend ten or fifteen minutes there, tops.

But after Donnie had your head taken care of Mikey wanted to know if you wanted to play a video game.

You couldn’t say no.

Then, after an hour of the Lou jitsu game, Leo wanted to know if you wanted to check out his sword.

You felt like you had to say yes.

It’s not every day you get to see a sword!

After accidentally getting portalled to New Jersey and FINALLY making your way back, Donnie wanted to know if he could borrow you.

He needed to fix his computer and he needed your smaller fingers to reach the back for him.

Saying no just wasn’t an option.

After almost exploding the poor piece of technology, Raph wanted to know if you knew April O’Neil.

You heard them mention her earlier but you didn’t know they meant THAT April. You’d seen her around before but never really talked to her. Who knew she’d be involved with mutants from the sewer?

He invited April to join them as well.

He thought some human company and someone who would make you feel more normal about the whole situation would make you more comfortable.

He was right.

April was AWESOME.

You hadn’t realized how loud and how fun she could be!

She talked to you about how she met the turtles and every little adventure they went on!

You hoped, secretly, that you could be a part of newer ones.

Eventually, the time came for you to leave.

You were sad of course, but you felt happier than you had in days.

You left with five new numbers in your contacts list and a baked green bean casserole from a rat.

Maybe you should get body slammed into the concrete more often.

————

“Wanna go to that party with me after school?” Your friend asked casually at the lunch table. “Dana couldn’t go with me and everyone else is busy. I need a plus one!”

You smiled as you responded to a meme Leo sent you, your friends words going in one ear and out the other.

“Y/n.” She asked again.

Still no response.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You snapped out of it and straightened up. “What?”

“You and I are going to a party after school.” She informed you. “We should probably pick out our outfits right when it ends. I don’t know if I’ll be able to drive you but you can just walk-.”

“Oh,” you picked your phone up again, “sorry, I have plans.”

This got her to stop. “You have plans? But you never have plans?”

Your other friend snickered. “Yeah, you’re a hermit! You never go out or do anything!”

You blushed furiously. “I’m going to my friends house to watch a movie, okay? I’m not a hermit.”

“A friend, huh?” One of them rolled her eyes. “How come I’ve never heard of them before?”

“I just met them last month.” You picked at your shirt nervously. Why weren’t they happier for you?

“Them?” Another repeated, shocked. “You have more than one knew friend?”

“Yeah.” You straightened up a bit. “Them. They’re super nice but they don’t go to our school.”

The first one rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever, think what you want. But I need you to sit with me and Jake at the park tomorrow so he can compare-.”

You didn’t even let her begin to finish her sentence. “I’m busy that day.”

“Again?” She gaped. “Seriously?”

“Now you’re just making stuff up.” Another scoffed.

“Why is it so unbelievable that I’d be busy?” You glared at them, clutching your phone protectively. “You’re all busy all the time! Why can’t I be?”

They glanced at each other with knowing looks.

“Because you barely talk to anyone! No offense, but you can be really boring.” The one next to you shrugged. “What even is your friends name anyway? You’d have said their name if they were real.”

You felt your face heating up.

Boring?

Quiet?

“His name Mikey.” You grumbled. “And maybe I don’t talk because none of you give me a chance!”

“A boy?!” The one in front of you gasped. They didn’t even acknowledge any of your other words. “Please, how could you score a boy?”

“He’s probably really ugly, no offense y/n.” One chuckled as if she were joking.

You had enough. “You know, I’m feeling a little crowded. I’m gonna go sit somewhere else.”

“You don’t even have anyone to sit with! You’re a hermit, remember?” One girl called out to you.

“I do have someone to sit with.” You growled, heading for April’s table. You should have started sitting with her a long long LONG time ago.

“Alright, see you Monday I guess.” Was the reply.

The way they just blew it off... UGH. You wanted to punch something.

“Hey, what brings you to the cool kid table?” April grinned, shoving Dale over to make room. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your other friends?”

You managed to shove away the buzzing anger in your head, replacing your frown with a matching smile. “Nah, there’s not enough room for me AND their egos.”

April snorted, assuming you were joking. “Well there’s always room for you here!”

Those were words you’d waited too long to hear.

—————

You still saw your old friends and occasionally filled in for them when they needed an extra.

But you denied their offers more and more.

For once, you knew what it felt like to be prioritized.

“Hey we’re gonna watch a Lou Jitsu movie, wanna come?”

“I saw this glass painting trend online and I thought you’d want to come over and do it with me!”

“I heard this song and I thought you’d like it. Here’s the link!”

“Check our this hilarious meme!”

“Dale and I are gonna go to that shin dig. I don’t know if that’s you’re thing but you’re welcome to join us!”

What a refreshing change of pace

Let me know if I should make a part two!

[the-iceni-bitch]

All I Need

Pairing: Andy Barber x Fem!Reader

Words: 4512

Summary: Andy has been drowning his grief at your bar for weeks. You help him dry out after a particularly bad night.

Warnings: Major angst!, softish Andy Barber, slight AU (spoilers for Defending Jacob book), explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse), descriptions of excessive drinking by adult of appropriate age, SMUT, 18+ only!

A/N: I have officially jumped on the love train for everyone’s favorite floofy lawyer. The sad!boi activated my caretaker instincts so this is pretty soft compared to my normal fics, and extremely angsty. Plus the smut kind of got away from me, I actually had to stop myself from writing even more! 

Checkout my masterlist and join my taglist if your inclined!

“Shit!! Jesse!” you screamed over your shoulder towards the kitchen, grabbing the bat from under the register as you jumped over the bar to break up the fight.

You swore under your breath as you moved toward the two men who were brawling. The smaller one seemed to have the upper hand, but it didn’t seem like the larger man was putting up much resistance. Maggie just stood there watching them with bambi eyes as you heard your giant cook rumble behind you, ripping off his apron to lend you a hand.

“What the fuck happened, Mags?” You hissed at your bartender, trying to haul the men apart with little success.

“Neal just came over and said he was sorry, and he just lost it.” The poor girl looked like she was on the verge of tears. Granted, she probably wasn’t expecting to have to deal with brawls in downtown Newton at a lawyer bar, but Neal sure seemed to invite violent reactions whenever he opened his stupid mouth.

You lost your patience and smashed an empty glass on the floor next to the two men, shocking them out of it. Neal rose to his feet with a look of fury on his face, but you kept your eyes on Andy Barber.

He’d spent pretty much every night this week since the funeral at your bar. His face was pallid and he had dark rings under his eyes. He was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and he smelled like stale bourbon. Now he was rolling around on the floor aimlessly like a slug.

“Get the fuck out of my bar, Neal.” You said exasperatedly, spying the mostly empty bottle of bourbon on Barber’s table.

“What, I didn’t do anything!” the giant whined at you.

“Really?! You couldn’t just leave the poor guy alone? Jesus Neal! I don’t wanna see you in here for a month.” You hooked your arms under Andy’s and dragged him to sit on the bench, his head lolling drunkenly on his neck as you tried to assess how far gone he was.

“Fuck you, bitch.” Neal spat at you as he turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the front door behind him.

“Have a great night!” You called after him, sarcastically, flipping him off.

“You sure that’s a good idea, boss?” Jesse asked, his massive arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head at you.

“Who cares, I hate that smug asshole. Hey, Andy?” You snapped your fingers in front of his face and he slapped your hand away lazily, growling under his breath. “You sneak behind the bar again, man?”

“I swear, I didn’t sell him a bottle, Y/N.” Her chin was quivering as tears slowly leaked down her cheeks.

“I know Mags, he’s a sneaky bastard. Don’t worry, sweetie, you’re not in any trouble. Go to the bathroom and splash some water on your face.” You watched her scurry off to the bathroom and rubbed a hand over your face. “Fuck. I’m gonna call in Emma to give Maggie a hand. You ok locking up tonight Jess?”

“Sure, what’re you thinking?”

You just stared at Andy with overwhelming pity as he almost slid of the bench, forcing you to keep a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’m gonna take him back to his hotel and help him dry out. Wouldn’t feel right just kicking him to the curb.”

“You’re too soft, Y/N.” Jess chortled at you.

“Yeah, maybe. Can you bring me an ice bucket?” You hooked his arm over your shoulder and hauled him to his feet so you could make your way out to your car.

Jess got your bucket from behind the bar as you hobbled outside. You managed to get your passenger door open and you slid Andy inside. His head rolled on his shoulders as you buckled him in before shoving the bucket into his lap.

“Andy, can you hear me? Don’t you fucking puke in my car!”

He grunted in acknowledgment and wrapped his arms around the bucket, curling himself over to hang his head above it.

“You sure you shouldn’t be taking him to a hospital, Y/N?”

“No… mmph… no fucking hospital!” Andy slurred at you as you slammed the door closed.

“I’m pretty sure he’d jump out of the car if he thought I was taking him to the hospital Jess.” You murmured as you circled to the driver’s side. “Thanks for closing, you’re the best!”

You watched him wave in your rearview as you drove off, making sure to keep one eye on Andy as he groaned over his bucket.

You reached his hotel in 15 minutes, grateful for the short drive as the man was looking greener by the second. You dug your hands in the pockets of his coat, searching for the keys to his room and you thankfully found them quickly. You were relieved to see he was on the first floor, as you didn’t trust your ability to safely get him up the stairs.

Getting Andy out of your car was a deal harder than getting him in, as he slipped further into his alcohol induced stupor. You almost dropped him when you wrenched him out of his seat, and you basically carried him to his room.

You somehow managed to get the door unlocked and drag him inside right when you heard his stomach roil. You cursed under your breath as you scrambled to get him to the bathroom, shoving his head in the toilet just in time as he emptied his gut.

“Shit, Andy.” You hissed, your hands on your knees as you tried your best to breathe deeply and get accustomed to the scent of his alcohol-soaked stomach contents. Once you were sure he was relatively stable, you moved to the kitchenette and filled a glass with tepid water before returning to find him leaned back against the wall. “Drink.” You ordered, kneeling beside him and bringing the glass up to his lips.

His eyes locked onto yours as he chugged the water down greedily. No sooner had he swallowed the glass’ contents than he was lunging forward to throw it back up. You tutted worriedly as you rubbed a hand over his back and used the other to start the shower.

“Why the fuck are you here, Y/N?” He grumbled miserably, not bothering to lift his head as you dragged his coat over his shoulders and threw out into the living area.

“I couldn’t have you killing yourself in my bar, Andy. Where’s your phone?” His stomach seemed to have calmed down, so you drew him to lean back against the wall and started to tug off his boots.

“S’in my back pocket.” He slurred at you. You rolled him over and drew the phone out of his jeans to set it on the counter. “You could’ve let me do it here.”

“Nah.” You said. “If you quit coming around, what excuse am I gonna have to kick Neal out?” You rolled up your sleeves and thrust your hand under the shower’s flow, checking the temperature. “Hey, don’t you dare pass out on me!” You slapped him in the face as he started to doze off and you worked on getting him undressed. “I’m fucking serious, Barber, you don’t get to drink yourself to death on my watch.” You finally got his shirt off and started to drag his jeans down his legs.

“But why?” His eyes were boring into you now, pleading for some kind of answer to what possible reason there was for him to stick around as they welled up with tears.

You chewed your lip as you thought about it.

Andy had been a fixture at your bar for years. Always coming by for a celebratory drink after a win, or when he was working late on a difficult case. Even during Jacob’s trial, he’d stopped by with Joanna a few times to hash out details of the case. No matter how much stress he was under, you were always able to make him smile, and he always left a very generous tip no matter who was serving him. Your bar had been one of the only places he’d always felt welcome, and you had no qualms about kicking out anyone who wanted to give him a hard time.

Then the crash happened. He lost Jacob first; he was DOA to the hospital. His visits to your bar were more somber then. You didn’t try to make him smile, you barely even talked to him. But you’d drink with him in silence when he was the last patron in the bar, sitting across from him in his booth as the rest of the staff shut things down, occasionally placing your hand over his and rubbing your thumb over his knuckles in a comforting gesture.

They had taken Laurie off life support 2 weeks ago, and after her funeral was when he really started to spiral. Rather than nursing his usual three drinks, he was downing whole bottles a night. You had to instruct your staff to cut him off after 6, or he would end up like he was tonight. This wasn’t the first time you had caught him with a stolen bottle.

You couldn’t say why you cared so much. You weren’t even sure you were really friends. But through everything that happened, you seemed to be the only constant, an anchor point for him as his world fell apart.

“I dunno Andy.” You murmured as you drew off his socks before rolling him into the tub with a lurch, making him gasp as the cold water hit his skin. “I guess I’d miss you.”

He glared at you as he shivered under the shower’s stream, huddled around himself in only his boxers.

“Do I need to wash you, or do you think you can handle that on your own?” You asked, handing him a washcloth and some soap.

“I can handle it.” He hissed, snatching them from your hands as he braced himself against the wall and drew himself slowly to his feet.

“Good.” You started gathering up his soiled clothes. “Make sure to wash the vomit out of your beard.”

He ripped the shower curtain closed and tossed his boxers over the rail at you, grumbling the whole time. You bagged up his dirty laundry and set some clean sweats on the counter in the bathroom before you set to work on cleaning the rest of the hotel room, doing your best not to gag at the week-old takeout containers.

Andy staggered out of the bathroom 30 minutes later, rubbing a towel through his hair as he wobbled on still drunk legs.

“How’s your stomach?” You asked, stretched out on the couch and sipping a glass of ginger ale.

“S’better.” He murmured, stumbling his way to the bed and collapsing on it with a groan.

“And your head?”

“Fuck you.” He murmured with his face buried in the pillows.

You grabbed the garbage can from the bathroom and set it next to the bed. “Make sure you sleep on your side or your stomach. I’ll be on the couch.” You turned to leave and he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

“No, stay with me.” He mumbled, peeking up at you through those stupid long eyelashes, his damp hair drooping over his forehead.

“You’re still drunk, Andy.” You scolded, snatching your wrist away from him. You couldn’t deny you’d thought about it before, but there was no way you were going to let him make a move on you after the night he had. “I’m just 20 feet away, here to make sure you don’t choke on your own vomit overnight.”

You turned back to find him passed out, a thin trail of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes and turned off the lights before collapsing on the couch in a huff.

Andy woke up to the smell of sausage and eggs as you slammed the hotel room door, carrying some takeout from the greasy spoon down the road.

“Shit, I was hoping to sneak out before you were up.” You murmured as he rose up off the bed, his bedhead a sight to behold. “I got you breakfast.”

“What happened last night?” He groaned, his stomach churning as he inhaled the smell of the food you had brought in.

“Well, you stole a bottle of Woodford Reserve from my bar, drank more than half of it, then fought Neal.” You shoved a plate of food in front of him as he sat down at the island. “Then I brought you back here and held your hair while you puked your guts out.”

“Fuck.” He murmured, fighting the urge to gag as he eyed the plate in front of him. “How did I get in these sweats?”

“Don’t worry, I dumped you in the shower in your boxers, no looks at the goods. And even if I had, last night was decidedly unsexy.”

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” He murmured, burying his head in his hands.

“Mmhmm. Eat.” You ordered, making him groan. “Suck it up, Barber, you’ll feel better after a couple of bites.” You watched him shovel a bite in his mouth and chew dutifully, taking a deep breath as you steeled yourself for what you wanted to say. “Are you talking to anyone, Andy?”

“’M talking to you.” He said around his second mouthful off breakfast, starting to feel a bit better.

“I mean like a shrink.” You said, seriously.

“What the fuck is this?” He threw his fork down on his plate, pissed. This was none of your business.

“Andy, you’ve been drinking yourself stupid every night for the past 2 weeks. It’s not healthy, and I don’t want to be responsible for you ruining your life.”

He gave you a snort of derision and rolled his eyes as he stood up to walk away. “Fuck off.”

“Hey!” now you were angry. “I care about you asshole! You think I enjoyed last night? I’m sick of it!” You followed after him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around sharply.

“It’s not your problem, Y/N.” He seethed at you, ripping your hand off his shoulder as he took a menacing step towards you.

“You made it my problem when you decided to use my bar as the stage for your descent to rock bottom, dick!” You were yelling now. “Y’know what, fuck this. Figure your shit out Barber. Until then, don’t step foot in my bar.” You stormed out, slamming the door behind you as you slipped your coat back over your shoulders.

“Fuck!!” Andy screamed before charging after you.

He managed to catch up to you as you were about to open your car door and he slammed it shut over your shoulder, pinning you against the driver’s side of your vehicle.

“I swear to god, Andy, I’ll mace you.” You hissed at him, turning as you dug your hand in your bag. He wrapped a massive hand around your wrist, stopping your turn halfway.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, pressing his forward to yours as he leaned against you. “I need you.”

“Andy…” this was such a bad idea.

“Why’d you stay last night?” He muttered, bringing his hand down to cup your cheek. “You said you care about me.”

“I do care, Andy.” You sighed as he took another step into you, pressing his body against yours. “Fuck, what’re you doing?”

“Stay.” He whispered, dipping his face to catch your lips with his and sending every objection you had right out of your head.

You sighed against him as you wrapped your hands in his hair, rolling your body against his. He ran his tongue over your bottom lip before pressing it against yours, his hands moving down to your hips and drawing you into him. You let out a whine as you felt his growing erection grinding against you.

“Shit.” You hissed as you felt a rush of arousal soak your panties. “Andy, we need to go back to the room.”

“Right.” He muttered, deepening your kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck and he lifted you off the ground as he drew you away from your car and started to head back towards the room, thankful he had left the door ajar.

You kicked the door closed as he carried you inside, giving a small huff when he sat down on the bed with you straddling his lap. You slipped your coat over your shoulders and tossed it aside as his mouth devoured yours, lips molding to each other as your tongues tangled.

Andy slipped his fingers under the hem of your tee and drew it over your head, throwing it on top of your jacket before unclasping the front of your lacy bra and nuzzling himself between your breasts. He rolled the two of you gently until he was on top of you.

You sighed as Andy moved his mouth over the slope of your breast to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, sucking softly as he moved one hand to dip beneath the waistline of your jeans. He groaned against your chest when he found you sopping wet for him.

“God, I need you, sweetheart.” He mumbled against your skin as he worked at unbuttoning your fly, dragging your jeans and panties down your legs and flinging them aside before bringing his hand back up to cup your heat. “Need to make you feel good. Lose myself in you for just a bit.” He moved his lips up to brush against your neck as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, spreading your slick over your mound and making you gasp, your fingers gripping his massive biceps tightly as he teased you.

“Andy, please.” You whined, canting your hips into his hand, your clit throbbing with need as the pads of his fingers brushed against it.

He brought his face up to yours as he plunged one thick finger into you, a smile teasing his lips as he watched your face screw up in bliss. He dipped his lips to meet yours as he added another finger, swallowing your small cry.

“You feel so good, beautiful. So warm and tight.” He scissored his fingers inside of you, drawing lewd squelches from your canal as your arousal soaked his hand. “Fuck me, you’re perfect.”

You scrabbled your hands over the broad muscles of his back as he curled his fingers inside you, massaging that soft, spongy muscle deep within your canal. He buried his face in your neck, murmuring soft praises as you came apart beneath him.

You mewled as he inserted a third finger, your cunt clenching around him as you thrust yourself onto his hand, fucking yourself on his digits.

“You close love?” He asked, his thumb brushing against your clit before he started massaging it gently. Pressing soft circles into your core as you writhed beneath him.

“Oh, fuck.” You muttered. “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck……”

He felt you tense underneath him when he drove his thumb into your clit, hard. You choked on your tongue as every muscle in your body vibrated with pleasure, your release gushing over Andy’s hand and soaking him to the wrist. He felt your nails digging through his sweatshirt as you came.

He kept his fingers moving inside you as your rode out your orgasm, your body rolling in waves underneath him as your pleasure wracked you, leaving you breathless. Once you sagged back against the bed, he withdrew them, disconnecting from you reluctantly to remove his own clothes. Staring down at you, all he wanted was to press himself against every inch of you. Claim every slope and curve of your body for his own.

He gripped one ankle and brought it up to his mouth, skimming his lips over the jut of bone as his fingers skirted over your calf, pressing into the firm muscle there. His lips followed his fingers, searing your skin with each lingering kiss and brush of his tongue as he worked his way further up your leg. Your cunt clenched around nothing when he reached your thigh, his beard scratching at the soft skin between your legs as he marked you with lips and teeth. You tangled your fingers in the blankets and moaned when he bypassed your core, moving up the line of your hip as he claimed you.

Your breath was coming quicker as worked his way over your body. His lips swept against your abdomen now, his tongue dipping into your navel as he nuzzled over the midline of your torso. All you could focus on was the feel of his mouth on your skin, leaving a trail of electricity as marked you as his. He laved his tongue over first one nipple, then the other as you arched into him, pressing your thighs together as your pussy throbbed with need.

He moved to trace the curves of your shoulders, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed his way down first one arm, then the other. You were panting now, your thighs soaked as arousal seeped out of you. Andy traced his fingers over your torso, skimming over the slopes of your breasts as he moved to kiss the curve of your neck, sucking gently to draw light bruises as his hands moved lower, kneading into your hips. He drew your knees apart slowly, slotting himself between your thighs as he dragged his hard length through your folds, making you keen as he ground into you.

You were a mess, your breath coming in ragged gasps as his hips rocked against you. You were desperate for release, every inch of you tingling with need and when Andy’s cock brushed against your clit, you lost it. You threw your head back in ecstasy as your fingers scrabbled in the sheets, desperate to hold onto something to keep you anchored.

Andy just stared at you, one massive palm cupping your cheek as he watched you falling apart. He needed you so much, you were the only constant he had. The only person who didn’t make him feel like a charity case or a failure. He hated what he was becoming, what the secrets and the tragedy were turning him into, but he knew if you stayed with him, he could come back.

“Y/N,” He whispered as you relaxed and he stilled his hips, his thumb tracing your cheekbone as you slowly opened your eyes, gazing up at him through your lust blown pupils. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

“Andy,” a small voice in the back of your mind was trying to warn you, telling you not to commit to anything now while he was still drowning in his grief. But you were overwhelmed with the pleasurable assault he had subjected you to and when he pressed his lips to yours again, that little voice went away. “I promise.” You gasped when he released you.

He grinned at you as he lined himself up, resting his forehead against yours as he gazed into your eyes. You were so wet that he slid into you easily, bottoming out right away with a hiss.

“Fuck, honey.” He murmured against your lips as you whined, his hips setting a languorous pace as he pulled out halfway before thrusting back into you. “God, you’re so tight, you feel amazing.”

You couldn’t reply, you could already feel another orgasm building as you thrust your hips to meet his, mewling softly as the warm coil in your stomach tightened. You ran your fingers over his auburn beard before burying them in his hair, panting into his mouth as he brought you closer to the edge.

Andy brought one hand between the two of you and strummed his thumb against your clit, making you tighten your fists in his hair until it was painful.

“God, Andy, right there.” You sobbed, your cunt clamping around him as he moved to bury his face in your neck, nuzzling against the hollow behind your ear.

“Go ahead, beautiful.” He scraped his teeth over the edge of your jaw as he drove his thumb against you, and you screamed.

You fluttered around him as your body spasmed, multiple waves of pleasure rippling through you. Your knees gripping around his hips and squeezing as your torso rolled against his. You sank back against the bed with a sigh as your body relaxed, Andy still fucking into you and starting to pick up speed.

“I’m gonna move you, pretty girl.” He wrapped his arms around you and rolled until you were on top of him, pressing you against his chest as he kissed you deeply. “Wanna watch you ride me.”

You gave him a smile as you sat up, bracing your hands against his chest as you ground yourself against him. He was seated in you deeper than anyone had ever been, his cock dragging against that secret spot inside you with each drive of your hips, making you groan. He thrust up into you and groaned at the bounce of your tits while you let out a cry at his tip hitting your cervix.

Andy dug his fingers into your hips as he took over, pistoning up into with increasing speed as your cunt clamped around him. Your head rolled loosely on your shoulders as you let go, eyes fluttering as you felt another orgasm gathering.

You gripped his hips tightly with your thighs as it hit you like a truck, sobbing with pleasure while your muscles shivered over him. Andy sat up quick and caught you before you could collapse back on the bed, wrapping one hand around the back of your neck and catching you lips with his as his hips picked up even more speed.

“Shit.” He murmured against your lips. You felt his cock twitch inside you as his hips faltered in their rhythm. “Are you on the pill honey?”

You nodded vigorously, unable to speak as Andy’s violent thrusts had knocked all the breath out of your lungs and you were gasping.

“Good. Fuck.” He nipped at your lips before shoving his tongue down your throat.

You felt warmth spread through your abdomen as he shot his release into you, his thick spend coating the slick walls inside you and leaking out over your thighs as he fucked you through it. He slowed his thrusts as you felt him soften inside you, groaning into your mouth as he came down and collapsed back against the bed, holding you close to his chest.

His chest hair scratched against your cheek as he breathed deeply, trying to slow his heart rate back down and rubbing his fingers over your spine as you panted on top of him.

Neither of you spoke for a while, content to lie in the comfort of each other’s arms. You made Andy feel safe, and he made you feel needed, and that was all the two of required for now.

Permanent Tags:

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[mae-gi-writes]

My Heart Beats | Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Synopsis:

You're dying, all because of the love that Seo Changbin has for someone else.

Genre: hanahaki au! Lots of angst, little fluff, Chan is a good wingman. Happy ending! 

----

There was a lot of coughing, at first.

You weren't exactly sure why your throat scratched so badly that it burned like it was on fire, only downed a few cough drops with the hope that it'd go away after a few days. You told yourself that maybe if you waited it out long enough, it would go away by itself and you wouldn't spend nights lying in bed, practically curling in on yourself as you tried to keep the coughing to a minimum.

It didn't get better.

Of course, the first few times you'd cough into your sleeve, your close friend and classmate Changbin would ask you if you were sick -- with that disgruntled frown that only you could decipher as concern -- but you had merely shaken your head then before batting away his worries with a brush of your fingers.

It had escaped your notice, how your throat clamped up whenever he was close by, how you would suddenly erupt whenever he would play with your hair or brush some dust off your shoulder.

"Seriously Y/N, go see a doctor or something," he said one day after your Photograohy seminar where you had spent three quarters of it muffling your coughs. That had garnered you numerous dirty looks from your classmates, "maybe you're developing an allergy."

"It doesn't come all the time," you replied breathlessly while plastering a smile on your face.

He wasn't convinced.

And then, when you stumbled upon him in the cafeteria sitting across from a girl you'd seldom met before, that had been the last straw.

You had barely managed to make it to the toilet, hand cupped against your mouth and running like your life depended on it, stumbling into the nearest stall to empty the contents of your stomach.

Only, it wasn't.

You watched, horrified, as blood poured out of your mouth like a gushing waterfall filled with bits and pieces of broken branches, plant stems, petals. You couldn't tear your eyes away from it no matter how much you tried, chest heaving and breaths ragged as you gazed at the mess in the toilet bowl with the slow realization sinking into you.

Hanahaki.

You were dying. You were dying because plants were now growing into your heart, taking over your lungs and your body.

That was when you got a second realization:

That you were in love with Seo Changbin. And he was clearly in love with someone else. 

------

"Long time no see.” 

You jolted from your seat, head whipping up and partly expecting to see the said raven-haired man that you had been avoiding most week to be standing there with a scowl on his face. Instead, you were genuinely surprised to find one of his closest friends instead. 

Chan looked down at you with furrowed brows and from the way his eyes skimmed over your features, you guessed he was seeing the side effects of the hanahaki just as much as you were, “jesus, Y/N. Are you sick or something?” 

“Bad cold,” you faked a laugh, quickly scrambling to cover the book title currently spread open for him to see, but Chan hd quick reflexes, arm sneaking underneath yours to yank the said book out of your arms and ignoring your protests. 

He read the title once, twice. Flipped a few pages, frown growing so deep on his face that his eyebrows were practically kissing at the centre, and you were about to make a joke out of it -- to make light of the situation -- when his eyes snapped back up to you. And what you saw in them caused all jokes to die upon your tongue.

“What is this, Y/N?” 

You tried to ignore the shakiness in his alto, or the emotion blazing through his dark irises. Your chest hurt with that same familiar ache you had grown accustomed to over the days, causing you to look away as you murmured out your reply: 

"What it says it is.” 

It was useless to lie. Chan was sharp. There’d be no use lying to him.

He sucked in a breath and you quickly scrambled out, “don’t tell Changbin.” 

Brown orbs boring into yours for a few seconds too long, you forced yourself to return his gaze with a pleading look of your own, and it seemed like he figured it out for himself for he merely dropped his eyes before looking away. 

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he murmured, “It’s Changbin.” 

Your head bowed. Your silence said everything. His breath hitched, grasping your shoulder so that you turned to face the wetness of his eyes as tears brimmed at the corners, “stop it. You can stop it right? There’s got to be a cure for that now.” 

Oh, how it would be wonderful to believe there was even a cure. But the only solution was surgery and even that came with its risks. Plus, extracting the hanahaki from your heart meant to erase Changbin altogether from your life and as much as it killed you literally to be existing in this state every single day, you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving behind all the memories that you and Changbin had built together. 

Thankfully, Chan wasn’t forceful in his argument when you pleaded that you felt more comfortable dealing with this alone. He did, however, constantly check up on you on days where you looked especially gaunt, when the pouches under your eyes were so blue he feared that they would swallow up your whole face, or when he noticed how you left your lunch untouched, opting to sip silently on your soy milk instead. 

“Who is she?” You had asked once, your soprano barely above a raspy whisper, as your eyes trailed over Changbin’s figure leaning in towards what the girl was saying. 

“Her name’s Yoreum,” Chan had mumbled through mouthfuls of his meat sandwich, “apparently she’s a transfer student from Japan, and very interested in Changbin.” 

“Good for him, I guess,” you mumbled. 

A minute later, you excused yourself to the bathroom, palm halting the trickle of blood from your lips.

You weren’t exactly certain how this disease worked. Was it due to your inner feelings? Or did it depend on Changbin’s? Or both? The books you read had told you endless tales of varying consequences and different situations, which didn’t help the matter in the least. In fact, it left you even more in the dark, if that was possible. 

You knew that it would be impossible to avoid Seo Changbin forever for once he set his mind to something, it was a force not to be reckoned with. You had kept up a stream of excuses about being sickly and that it was exams season. But all your efforts were futile after a few weeks when you spotted the said man standing at the front of your apartment complex, tapping his feet to keep the coldness of spring at bay. 

You had half a mind to run away, drop everything and just make a dash for it. But Changbin spotted you before you could do anything and he closed the gap between you two in less than three strides, quickly encapsulating you in a hug. 

Your breath hitched. The itch was back, your throat tingling like crazy. You paused for a few seconds and allowed his scent to overwhelm you, before pushing him away to cough into your sleeve. 

“Damn Y/N. Chan was right. You really are sick.” 

"Wha--" you tried to force the itch down your throat, "are you doing--"

Your body jerked as you felt it give way to the pain that twisted your torso in two and you turned away just in time to clamp a hane over your mouth as you coughed like there was no tomorrow.

Warm liquid splattered over your palm. The metallic stench of blood filled your nostrils.

"Y/N," Changbin made a move towards you, "are you--"

Holding up a hand, you felt him halt as another round of coughs ripped through your already-dry throat. You didn't realize that your legs gave out at some point until a pair of hands quickly grasped the back of your elbows, and though you wished to push him away, pain rippled through your body as you all but collapsed to the floor, blood and branches and petals splattering onto the ground.

You didn't have to look at his face to know that his body was tensed in shock, frozen as he took in the sight before him. Scrambling for words, they all died at the back of your throat when you glanced over at his clenched jaw, the slow reality that blooms through his dark pupils. 

Silence filled the air.

“What--” he choked up, “is this?” 

You opened your mouth to answer, closed it when you couldn’t find anything. Before you, Changbin’s fists curled, clenching at his sides as he surveyed the mess of blood and dried up flowers. 

"Tell me this is not what I think it is,” he whispered. 

Still, you said nothing.

“Tell me!” He bellowed. 

“Changbin, I--” another round of coughs made your body twist on itself as you struggled to answer him, maybe lie through your teeth even though it was too late, “I can explain--” 

“Explain what?! That you’re dying?!” he swivelled around with barely restrained anger and that made you flinch back, “you kept this from me?! Why?! Tell me Y/N--” 

But his shouts were drowned out by your endless coughing and heaving, leaning forward to choke out a few petals dripping with fresh blood onto the ground. Your mind was swirling with excuses, trying to come up with the stupidest reasons as to why your body was behaving this way and maybe telling him that it was all due to someone else who couldn’t love you back. But the more you tried to fight the urge to throw up, the more you kept on gagging on your own blood. 

Arms came around your middle to lift you up, Changbin’s scent surrounding your figure as he managed to haul you to your feet and half-carry you inside your flat. It wasn’t until your body was laid down on the couch that you managed to utter out a soft “thank you”, which sounded more like an apology than anything else.

Changbin grunted, momentarily going out of your peripheral and returning with a sac plastic, in case you had anything more to cough out, which warmed your heart despite the cold harsh truth lingering before your very eyes. A truth that you knew had to be verbalized, sooner or later.

“Who is it?” 

His question caught you off-guard. Glancing up, your throat constricted at the way he gazed back at you, eyes dark and glossy with emotion.

Dropping your head to the floor, you mumble out something incoherent. You wished he could drop it.

“Who is it?” he growled.

Your jaw clenched. There was no escaping him, nothing could salvage the situation. So you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, before finally looking up at the raven-haired man sitting opposite you. 

“It’s you.” 

His anger dissolved into shock. He stared you down, mouth parted, for a few seconds.

When he spoke next, his words were barely above a murmur, “what?” 

He was staring at you as if you had just grown out a second head. But as much as you felt like flinching away, you kept your eyes steady, even when they welled up with tears, even when they burned from the way you caught sight of his expression slowly crumbling as the realization sank into his bones.

“You’re joking,” he whispered mostly to himself as he shook his head, “no. It’s not--What? It can’t be me, unless--”

“I love you.” 

His eyes snapped back to you and your breath stilled in your throat. The buzzing silence in the air twisted, thick with tension and from the remnants of your words that echoed in the distance between your bodies.

“But--” Changbin opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again. His frown deepened and his silence conveyed the inner conflict going on through his brain as you sat there with your world crumbling apart, wishing that he didn’t leave you for the last few days of your existence. 

You’d be gone all too soon. And then, and then life would go on. Changbin would go on. After all, he deserved to be loved by someone whom his heart desired. 

“I love you,” you repeated, the words breaking against your parted lips and tearing at your heart with every shaky inhale. You squeezed your eyes shut before burying your face into one of the couch pillows in hopes that this moment would just disappear, in hopes that this was all a well-constructed nightmare.

It felt like an eternity before you heard the rough alto of Changbin’s voice. It was choked, like he was having a hard time keeping himself together and though you wished to do something to ease his pain, you also knew that if you took a look at him, you’d crumble in seconds. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The sentence echoed through your ears, pain tugging at your heartstrings with every second that passed.

Without looking at him, you answered in a whisper, “because it’s not your fault.” 

"Not my fault?” His voice rose in anger, “not my fault? How is this not my fault? You love me, you’re dying because you love me. How--Fuck Y/N! How the fuck am I supposed to live with that?! I--” 

“Please,” your broken soprano flies out between you like a needle that hits him straight in the heart, “please. Not now.” 

If there was any reason why you hadn’t wanted to tell the said man straight up about the hanahaki was exactly for that reason; you loathed the idea of having Changbin beat himself up for the feelings that tormented your heart. It wasn’t his fault, but knowing the kind of person that he was, you were certain he’d feel guilty about not returning your feelings. 

But that wasn’t what you wanted. Not just some half-hearted love. Not a love that got drawn out from pity. You didn’t want him to love you, if that meant that he lost himself in the process. 

All you wanted, prayed for, was his happiness.

And that wasn’t you, as harsh as that was of a pill to swallow.

------

You woke up the next day to find Changbin still on the couch, sleeping where you had left him last evening to hide in your bedroom. When you’d gently lulled him out of sleep, he’d proceeded to make some breakfast while chatting about the most random things and quite frankly, ignoring the elephant in the room. It came to the point where you had snapped and asked what were his true intentions. To which he answered, as though it was the simplest solution: 

“I’m spending some time with my best friend,” he’d glanced over at you from his breakfast plate filled with eggs and sausages, “isn’t that obvious?” 

“But--” 

“Y/N, you’re not the only one who cares about this relationship,” Changbin looked away, before looking back with tears glimmering at the corners of his eyes, “if I can’t change my heart, then I’ll change the way I spend my time.”

You tried again, “I don’t want your pity--”

“Unless you want me to feel guilty for the rest of my life.” 

“You’re..." you watched him, unsure of what exactly was going on inside that head of his. Sometimes, his logic didn’t add up.This was one of those times, “now you’re making me feel guilty.” 

“Do you not want me around?” 

It seemed that your condition might have shaken him up more than you initially thought. His presence had always been a constant and yet up until now, he’d been busier, schedules more packed with activities and socializing with his other course mates whenever he had blocks of free time. He’d lock himself in his studio alone whenever inspiration struck and though you had always respected his personal space, there was no denying that some part of you missed him deeply. But it wasn’t like you could tell him that, knowing that it would merely be selfish of you to do so.

“That’s not what I--”

“Thought so,” and he got up from the table, signalling that the conversation was a case closed and dusted before directing himself towards the sink. You’d only dipped your head back towards your plate, trying hard not to let the heat colour your cheeks the way it always did whenever you found your best friend attractive. It had been getting harder and harder to stop yourself from reacting, and now that your feelings were out in the open, you hoped that Changbin would play along and ignore them altogether. 

Now though, now was different. Changbin actively sought you out; in the library he’d bring you cappuccinos with almond milk and an extra coffee shot just as you liked before sitting down to ‘study’ opposite you, he’d call you up at the most random times to chill at your flat even if that meant basking in hours of comfortable silence while you worked side by side. He’d even drag you to the studio with him, adamant on making you listen through his countless tracks with excuses that he needed a second opinion.

"I have questionable taste. You of all people should know that,” you would argue whenever he’d fight to place the headphones over your ears. You let him though, enjoying the warmth of his figure whenever he leaned over yours to fiddle with the headset. 

“Exactly why I want you to listen,” Changbin’s voice was muffled and yet, the way his breaths brushed against your ear caused your stomach to tingle. 

You wished to believe that his attention was intentional, that it came to him as naturally as breathing. But you knew it wasn’t. Because as soon as he’d walk away from you, you had to rush to the nearest bathroom to cough up more and more flower stems ceremoniously. 

And it was okay, really. It was bearable. You were happy enough to have him for a little while, even though you knew it would last up until the day you closed your eyes for the last time.

Once, he’d invited you over to make sushi -- he’d claimed beforehand that he was a good sushi roller and that this was just an excuse to flaunt his skills -- and he’d dragged you out to the supermarket with him, threatening that you wouldn’t be getting any of the salmon if you didn’t. So you’d reluctantly followed, complaining along the way as you trailed after him like a five-year-old child. 

It was when you were in the middle of looking at the salmon that you were suddenly overtaken with that familiar burn in your throat. Doubling over and trying to breathe as evenly as possible, you turned away from the food display just in time to cough up blood in your palm.

Changbin was at your side in an instant, hands circling your middle while murmuring his concern in your ears while you tried forcing down the pain slowly brimming over your mouth. At this point, you hadn’t realized that your best friend had slid you into his arm while he’d yelled at everyone to get the fuck out of the way, not until you were met with the outside air and was suddenly slammed by a round of coughing that just wouldn’t stop. 

You felt Changbin’s hands against your back, stroking soft circles as you coughed and coughed and coughed. Blood splattered over your clothes, on the ground, dribbled down your chin in a stream filled with flower petals and stems that grated against your lips. 

The more you coughed, the more flowers appeared. You noticed tulips, roses, daisies as well now. Those were new, you thought bitterly as you heaved.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed since, nor how you found yourself pressed against Changbin’s chest with your head tucked under his chin. He held you softly, tenderly, and you didn’t have the self-restraint to stop the silent tears from dribbling down your chin.

You loved him. 

You didn’t want to die.

“That’s a pretty big bouquet you just made,” came his soft murmur in the shell of your ear, causing a faint smile to twitch at your lips. Indeed, the array of flowers littering the ground would’ve been nothing less of beautiful, if not for the large amount of blood that you had just lost. 

“Changbin,” you breathed out weakly.

“Hm?” 

"I’m...” your head lolled against his neck when you tried to look up at him but failed, “I’m sorry.” 

His body stilled. Then, he said, “what for?” 

“For taking away your time,” your voice was thick with emotion.

“You’re not. I spend my time however I want,” his hold tightened, “if I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.” 

Still. You felt bad. You opened your mouth to apologize once more, only for him to beat you to it by pressing a finger to your lips.

"Don't," he said, "apologize."

Fire had seeped from his finger to litter across your cheeks and you were glad that your face was hidden from view, for you were bound to be the colour of a fire engine, no doubt about that.

Later, when your heart had calmed and your throat had been soothed with hot chocolate, he'd pulled you out into the rooftop and proceeded to sit you down onto his jacket so that you could gaze out at the cityscape.

"Beautiful," you murmured and took a sip of your drink, allowing the warmth to spread through your limbs. Spring weather was ambiguous that way; sometimes cold, sometimes bearable.

"Y/N."

"Hm?"

Changbin took a sip of his beer, "is there anything you'd like to do?"

"What do you mea--"

It dawned on you then. Oh.

"I don't know. I haven't really thought about it."

He angled his head towards you, "will you tell me?"

A smile graced your features, though you hoped he didn't notice how it didn't reach your eyes, "sure."

All you wanted though, all your yearned for, was for him.

Not that you'd ever tell him that.

A little later during that same week, you had taken the chance to ask him about the girl he loved. He'd brought you over to the Han River to show you how to skateboard and as you sat in the grass admiring the sun setting over the horizon, you decided to buckle up the courage and blurt out what was haunting your mind for days on end.

"What's her name?"

"Huh?" Changbin had looked at you like you'd really gone crazy then, before you prompted him with, "the girl you like. What's her name?"

He tried not to squirm in embarrassment, and failed as he averted his eyes, "i don't like her," you heard him mumble under his breath, "I just think she's cute."

"Yeah yeah. What's her name?"

"Why should I tell you?" He threw you a scowl, "so that you can make fun of me?"

"It's one of the things on my list."

"What list?"

"List of things I want to do," you propped your chin into your hands and grinned teasingly, "and that's asking you about the girl you like."

He let out an annoyed sigh, "Yoreum."

"Wah, pretty name. What's she like?"

"I don't want to talk about her."

"Why not?" You pouted, "I'll cheer you on even in spirit."

"Don't," he snapped back so suddenly, "talk like that."

Blinking at his sudden change in demeanour, you decided it was wiser to drop the subject altogether, lest it agitated him more. Changbin was known for his moody temperament but he'd been quite generous with you these past few weeks. Maybe because he knew that there was going to be an end. The thought caused another ache to reverberate through your chest and you looked away, not knowing on which foot to dance on for the rest of the night.

As you were walking back home, you felt his eyes constantly glance at the way you kept on blowing air into your hands,  "you cold?"

"Huh? Oh no, I--"

Too late, for his hand reached out to engulf yours, bringing it over to stuff it in his jacket. You stared at him for a full minute as your heart skipped a beat. What...was that?

It was cold. That's why. He was just trying to be a gentleman, your brain kept on reasoning with you. 

Your heart though, was saying otherwise. Maybe he likes you! Maybe he’s realized that--

You coughed. Once, twice. And then, you were falling to your knees as petals fell onto your shirt and dropped stained your clothes, your lap. Everything. Metallic rust engulfed your nose and you gratefully accepted the tissue that your best friend offered you. 

“You good?” his breath brushed against your cheek, concerned orbs ablaze. 

You wished you could get over him. You wished you could steer your heart away.

You nodded weakly, wiping away the remnants of blood and wishing that you could die right then and there from the embarrassment of being so openly weak and disgusting when he was around. 

But he merely grabbed the tissue from your hold and proceeded to wipe away at the corner of your lips. Your heart tugged in your chest, relishing in his gentle touches as you allowed yourself to bask in his attention. Even for a little while.

There was no way you could forget Seo Changbin. Even if you tried.

-----

"How are you really?” 

You rolled your eyes, a smile dancing across your lips as you exited the library with Chan in tow, “you’re such a worry-wuss.” 

“Hey, I’m asking out of concern,” Chan chides in that fatherly manner of his that always made you feel safe somehow, “I never see you around anymore because Changbin steals you away.” 

“Aw, don’t be jealous,” you reached out to ruffle his hair before he had the chance to duck away, “you’re still my secret favourite. But don’t tell Changbin that. Otherwise he’ll just sulk for days.” 

“You make it sound so tempting,” Chan wriggles his brows in a teasing manner while you strode towards the parking lot. It was a late Friday evening and you had planned to meet up at the nearest Burger joint with Changbin and some of the other boys whom you hadn’t seen in a while and it was no surprise that you had decided to take advantage of Chan a your driver for the night. 

“Who else is coming with us?” 

“Changbin said he’d come but you know how he is,” Chan re-adjusted his backpack over his shoulder, “maybe we should call him if he doesn’t show up by the time we get to the car.” 

Evidently, there was no sign of the said raven-haired man as you walked up to Chan’s red Mazda. That prompted you to call him, only to turn and spot his figure by the main flight of stairs with the girl you now knew as Yoreum.

You waited for that ache. For that burning sensation like alcohol was slipping down your throat, hands clenching around your phone. 

The pain was there, you could feel it under your tongue.

But you didn’t cough. Nothing pushed at the back of your trachea.

You blinked, perplexed for a moment. Maybe this wasn’t Yoreum after all? 

Or maybe Changbin was forcing himself to suppress his feelings. For your sake? 

That wouldn’t make sense. Changbin had said so himself. He wasn’t the kind of person to be forcing himself into situations. That’s what you loved the most about him, after all.

You tried not to ponder over it too much during dinner, hand unconsciously going to your chest and feeling your heart slowly beating under your clothed chest. Weird, you couldn’t help thinking. Why?

Maybe you were dying. Maybe you were going to die.

Or maybe...just maybe, you were slowly moving on.

Impossible.

"So are you dating her or not?” 

It was one of your friends-- Felix-- who brought you back to reality, blinking before realizing that the question was aimed at none other than the man whom had preoccupied your thoughts over the last hour.

Changbin leaned over, placing his elbows on the table as he sipped his beer, “we’re not dating.” 

“I thought you liked her,” Minho pointed out.

“Can we not talk about this now?” you would’ve missed the way Changbin’s dark orbs flickered over to you if you hadn’t been paying attention. But you did, and that hurt a little bit more than you liked to admit. You loved him, but that didn’t mean that you wanted to know nothing of his personal life either. 

Nevertheless, you decided that keeping your mouth shut would not hurt either, knowing that it might trigger some more coughing on your part. Nobody knew after all, that you were slowly being eaten away by plants growing in-between your lungs.

More oftentimes than not, Chan would urge you to go see a doctor, “just to see what the condition’s like,” he’d press you constantly, “you never know. Maybe it's getting better. Maybe you're getting better."

"There's only one explanation for that, Chan. And that would be that Changbin doesn't love Yoreum anymore," you smiled faintly, "and we both know that's not true."

Still, you couldn't help hoping that your condition was a sign that maybe you still had a chance at life. Part of you was curious as to whether there had been a change in Changbin's heart -- maybe even in yours -- but there was no denying the fact that it would be misplaced, especially in the context.

As you found yourself spending more and more time in Changbin's presence, you couldn't help but wonder whether he was pushing Yoreum aside just to accomodate you, and that thought was enough to make you feel guilty.

"Why don't you invite her?" You asked aloud once, when Changbin dragged you along for some bubble tea in the late hours of the evening. 

He’d stared at you silently for a solid minute. 

"Why would I do that?"

His question threw you off. You shot him a look as the said shop came into view, "isn't it obvious?"

"No."

You stopped in mid-walk, scowled at him, "I don't want you compromising your time."

"I'm not."

"But don't you want to spend time with her?"

At this point, his expression had morphed from confusion to infuriation and if you didn't know better, you'd say he was getting agitated.

He looked away, "I want to spend time with you."

Your heart stuttered, breath suddenly catching in your throat at his blunt statement. You hadn't expected him to be so forward about it, albeit the fact that he was merely speaking in terms of friendship. So you decided to drop the subject for now and kept on pondering it over in your head as you laid to rest that night. Knowing him, those set of words probably didn’t mean much. To you though? It meant everything.

You tried not to let your heart get ahead of yourself.

When it got warm enough, it was Changbin’s idea to drive you up to the coast when you had mentioned that you enjoyed listening to the sound of the ocean waves after a long, hard week. Especially after a long, hard week. It was no surprise that you were touched at his gesture, yet finding it bittersweet how he wasn’t exactly yours to lose even when he was right here, by your side. 

There was something nostalgic about knowing that your days were counted, and while you had been feeling a little bit better these past few days, your questions had been answered by the internet; that this was just the calm before the storm. 

In other words, there was more chance of you dying than living through that rare disease. 

“Say Changbin,” you spoke aloud when you descended from the car, a pack of beer tucked under your arm and a bag of snacks in his while making your way towards the golden beach glimmering in the afternoon sun. 

“Hm?” you felt his dark orbs on your face. 

You kept looking forward, feeling the sand slip through toes in bliss, “thank you,” you murmured, “for doing this.” 

He was quiet for a few seconds. Then, replied, “don’t thank me. You make yourself sound like a charity case.” 

Isn’t that what I am? You couldn’t help but think to yourself with bitterness. Settling over a comfortable spot and curling your knees up to your chest, you gratefully accepted the cold beer that Changbin handed to you -- after he’d cracked it open like the gentleman that he was -- and let out a soft breath, eyes finding solace in the waves lapping up the shore.

“How’s your coughing?” he broke the comfortable silence.

“It’s actually not bad,” you started tracing circles with the tip of your index finger in the sand, the roughness of particles slightly stinging your skin, “I haven’t had a bad spell since that supermarket incident.” 

He hummed in response, took a sip of his beer, but didn’t say anything in response. The comfortable silence washed over you and you allowed yourself to get lost in the feeling of the sun prickling at your skin, at the scent of salt in the air with every wave that brushed forward with the current. 

This was the place to be. For a quiet, waking moment, you could imagine that your life was endless. That you’d live till the very end, die old and wrinkly and with a full stomach. 

Your fingers unconsciously clenched around your beer bottle. If only.

If only.

“I know why,” Changbin suddenly blurted out.

Your head swivelled towards him, eyebrow raised, “huh?” 

“I know why,” he hesitated, “why you’re not coughing as much anymore.” 

Something stirred in your chest as you stared him down, cogs already turning in your brain. What was he getting at? 

“I--” was it your imagination or were his cheeks redder than they had been a few minutes ago? You kept on staring him down as he struggled to find the right words, stumbled over them with the clumsiness of a five year old, “I--I realized something. Ever since.” 

“Ever since?” 

“Ever since you told me you loved me.” 

If he was blushing, then you had flushed the colour of a fire engine. God, why did he have to put it so bluntly? 

“What--”You swallowed thickly while turning away to gulp down some beer, if not to cool yourself down, “what did you realize?” 

And that was when you felt the warmth of his fingers ghost over your chin. He cupped it in his hold, turning your face over so that you had no choice but to clash eyes as he slowly traced over your features with a gaze that seemed to speak volumes. That only caused your confusion to grow by tenfold. 

“What?” You spluttered out, not really used to the closeness of his mouth that was hovering dangerously close. You hadn’t realized that his other hand had trailed down to your side until you felt him pull you a little closer, making your breath hitch slightly.

“Cha--Changbin? What--What are you doing?” You all but squeaked out. This was unknown territory. This was Changbin, and he...

He loved someone else.

So why was he cradling you in his hold as though you were the finest piece of silk that he feared would tear apart with the slightest brusque gesture?

And why, oh why was his orbs swimming with that unidentifiable emotion that made your stomach churn and butterflies to erupt through your middle and tickle at your abdomen? Why was he looking at you like that? Why? 

Your questions were soon interrupted by the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

It was warm, and soft, and tentative, and no sooner did you blink that it was over, leaving you to gape at him like a stupid fish out of the water. Changbin, meanwhile, kept on gazing at you, as if gauging your reaction.

The only thing that managed to make it out of your lips was, “What?”

He allowed his lips to respond in his stead. He kissed your next breath away. And the next. And the next. Until your heart almost leaped out of your chest, until your body felt like it was tingling with electricity all over and until you couldn’t help but kiss back slightly, jumping as he let out a soft noise of approval.

When you pulled apart for air, his dark pupils kept on darting back and forth between your eyes and your open mouth and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he was resisting the urge to kiss you once more. 

“Changbin?” you whispered, “please tell me...” tears started brimming through your eyes, “please tell me this isn’t...just because--”

“No,” he looked horrified, “no, no Y/N. Of course not--”

“Then why are you doing this?” you were slowly pulling out of his grasp, reality crashing through you like waves, “why are you giving me hope when--when you love someone else--” 

“But that’s it, Y/N,” Changbin’s hands scrambled to find yours, “I don’t love anyone else. I--I thought I did. Maybe I did, because you wouldn’t have coughed so much if not. But then--Things changed, I don’t know. When you told me you were dying, it--it scared me. It scared me so fucking much, Y/N,” emotion clogged up his throat, eyes turning just as wet as yours. It wasn’t every day that you got to see Changbin without his walls up, “I didn’t--I don’t want to lose you. I tricked myself into believing I was into someone else. But when that--that happened, I--” he shook his head, eyes squeezing shut as though forcing himself to forget the pain etched into memory, “I realized I was just trying to run away from what I really wanted, all along.” 

He brought your hands up slowly to his lips before he pressed a soft, chaste kiss upon your knuckles, “I’m sorry,” he croaked out, “I never wanted to hurt you. Seeing you, so much blood. There was so much blood every time you--” 

He couldn’t help but burst into soft, broken sobs and your heart broke to watch him struggle to catch a hold of himself. Arms winding around him to pull him into your embrace, your hands went to stroke the back fo his head as the man in your arms cried like you’d never seen him cry before. It was a scene that literally tore your heart out and wrenched it sideways; to see Changbin in so much pain that he’d had to hold in whenever he was by your side and seeing you hurt. It pained you, it hurt you. So much so that tears silently cascaded down your cheeks, pressing yourself a little closer to him for comfort.

He calmed down after a while, slowly relaxing into your hold so that you were the one holding him close to your chest as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. The day was long gone, replaced by the evening hues of deep blue mixing in with vivid purple where the sun met the darkening sky, and though there was a slight chill in the air, Changbin’s strong arms looped around your waist did the trick to keep you warm.

“Don’t leave.” 

He called out your name and you hummed in response, awaiting for his next set of words while playing with his hair. The reality of the situation had slowly sunk onto your shoulders when you’d held him in your arms; that he loved you, loved you enough that you had stopped coughing altogether. 

His voice was laced with so much raw pain that your throat clogged up with emotion. 

“I won’t,” you murmured back, knowing that deep in your heart, you’d try your best to keep pushing forward, to keep loving him.

“Promise me,” he nuzzled his nose into your neck, the action causing your heart to flutter. Then, lifting himself up so that he was hovering above you once more, you couldn’t help but admire the way the moonlight bathed the planes of his face. He looked softer, more ethereal in that light.

Your fingers went up, cradling his cheek in your palm, “I promise.” 

And then he kissed you some more; a silent promise, a reassurance, a way to prove to you that he loved you just as much as you loved him, a way to show you that his heart only beat when you were around.

His heart would beat for you, just like yours did.