#but i don’t want to close them and miss anything either so i’ll just deal with it

[filmologetica]

BEHAVIOR — dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader.

the one where: you and dean are trying your hardest to have sex but everyone seems to be against it.

warnings: +18. kind of smutty, language, fingering, blue balls king. english is not my first language and it’s 2am here so it might have some incorrect english i plan on checking later.

a/n: this was… something. i’m thinking about a part 2, let me know if you want it <3.

Dean didn’t know if anyone had ever died from blue balls, but if not, he could easily be the first.

Two weeks. It has been two weeks now that Dean and his girlfriend were trying to get some alone time, but it seemed impossible. Every time someone had something they forgot in the room they were heavily making out in and took too long to head out, killing the mood completely, or something urgent to talk to them, or something that needed to be done. Every damn time. And when they finally had time at night they were exhausted, completely worn out.

The tension was growing between them and they just couldn’t help it. They fought for every stupid reason, everything seeing to be extremely frustrating.

“Did you get the milk I asked you to yesterday?” Y/N’s voice was low. She was tired, frustrated and horny. More than that, she was fucking angry with the life she chose. Walking back to back killing monsters was fucking exhausting. She needed a break.

Everyday something new was getting on her nerves. Ghosts, demons, angels and even Lucifer himself. Jesus Christ, she had no more patience for anything.

“Shit, I forgot. Sorry, babe.” Dean was just as exhausted as her, but he was used to this life. What he was not used to was spending fourteen long days with zero sex.

Zero intimacy. Not even a lazy handjob. Of course he could take care of himself but once he was in a relationship - or sort of - he needed to be deep in the woman he craved. And oh, boy, he was craving her. Everything was enough to make his dick wake up and twitch inside his pants.

Every.

Single.

Thing

made him end up with a boner that he wished you would take care of but there was always something in the way.

Fourteen days. And counting.

“Fucking hell, Dean. Is it too much to ask for you to pay attention to the things I tell you?” You snapped, slamming your mug to the counter.

Sam looked up, rolling his eyes knowing very well you two were about to start another pointless argument. Dean wasn’t exactly helping his situation either, as he raised his voice. “If I pay attention to every single thing you talk about every day, there goes my whole day. You never shut up.”

“I’m really sorry. I forgot the only woman you’re capable of listening to are the stupid whores you fuck at every bar we step into.”

“Yeah, at least I can fuck them.”

“Fuck you, Dean.” Your mug was now forgotten in the counter as you marched out of the kitchen, your face red with anger. You knew Dean didn’t mean it. It has been like this for days now, just pointless arguments about nothing.

“Dude, just- Go talk to her.” It was almost like Sam was stuck in a loop all over again. That’s how he felt. He had now lost count of how many times he had said this exact same thing, the exact same way. “I’ll go buy the fucking milk.”

Sam had no idea what was happening. Your relationship with Dean was a secret and that was a deal that you both made until you figured out what it was. Of course sleeping together every night wasn’t exactly nothing but you agreed in taking things slow.

Dean entered your room without even knocking, closing the door behind him with a kick. “I can’t take it anymore, Y/N.” He sighed, letting his body fall in your bed. “I don’t want to keep fighting, I’m sorry. You know I listen to you, it’s just- It’s been too much.”

“It’s ok. I’m sorry about what I said. I just-” Dean looked at her, knowing exactly what she would say. “I miss you.”

“Yeah?” Tracing an invisible line at her exposed leg, Dean was taking his time feeling how soft her skin was.

“Yeah.”

“Mhmm.” His hand was now not so innocent, getting to her thighs still gently. The touch enough to make her shiver. “What are you missing?”

Opening her legs, Y/N exposed her delicate lingerie. It was red, and Dean could feel his mouth water with the sight. Her tiny lace panties were now making him rock hard. He could see your pussy clearly and he was ready to show you how much he missed it. “I miss you right here.” Your hands entered the fabric, touching your clit gently.

“God, I love it when you act like a cock slut.” Lifting your dress a little more, Dean was taking up the view. You never needed much to make him hard, but this was a whole different level. It was like he was drunk on your smell.

“I love it when you fuck me with your fingers.” You said and Dean now moved the fabric to the side, to get a clearer view, chewing on his bottom lip. “It feels so good when you ease me up with one finger because I’m so fucking tight for you…”

And just to make Dean lose his mind, you add one finger to your drabbling pussy. It took to much of him to not roll his eyes and come undone without even taking off his pants. “And when you add another one… God, feels so good, baby.” One more finger in, another growl from Dean out.

“I’m going to fuck you good. Make you remember what it feels like when I’m filling you up.” With your most innocent face you nodded, more like begging Dean to fuck you.

When you felt his lips on yours in an urgent kiss, it felt like you were dreaming. His tongue sliding into your mouth roughly while you ran your fingers through his hair desperately. Now, he was on top of you and you could feel his bulge.

You could feel his cock while his hips trusted into you trying to make him feel better even with his clothes still on. When your hand found his boner, using enough pressure on it, Dean moaned into your lips. “Fuck. I need to be inside you.”

And just when his hands found his belt, a knock was heard on the door. “No!” You cried.

Dean sighed, absolutely frustrated and hiding his face on the crook of your neck. “We can pretend there’s no one here. We put a pillow on your face and you make no sounds while I fuck you.”

You let out a quiet laugh, just as frustrated. “What if it’s important?”

“Y/N, this is important!” Dean was furious. Who wouldn’t be? He refused to add one more day to his blue balls count.

“Open up, guys!” Sam said loudly on the other side of the door.

“What the fuck does this guy want?” Dean got up while you adjusted your dress, trying your best to fix your hair quickly. “Yeah, Sam?”

As Dean opened the door, his face was definitely not friendly but it didn’t scare Sam, who entered the room and sat on the bed.

The bed you thought you were having sex seconds before. “We need to talk about your behavior.” He says.

“My what?” You ask and Dean rolls his eyes, thinking about hitting his head on the door a billion times to end his penalty.

“We’re gonna talk about what’s happening between you and Dean and solve this problem right now.”

“I don’t think that’s something you can fix, Sammy.” You wish you could punch him.

“Well, then I’m not leaving this room.”

And with that, Dean left to take a cold shower in his room after being cockblocked by Sam once again.

[catcze]

The edge of Wriothesley’s desk digs into the small of your back, the hard wood undoubtedly leaving an indent in your skin from how you’ve leaned on it. Any other time you’d frown and huff, but it was difficult to properly gripe about it right now.

“Your grace.”

“Yes?” The Duke murmurs damn near right into your ear, almost low enough to be a purr. With how close he is —how his face hovers over your and his hands rest on either side of your waist, bracketing you in— you can almost hear the rumble of the word come straight from his chest.

You can leave this proximity easily— you know this, and so does he. But for some outlandish reason, you find yourself inclined to rest here, surrounded by him, the desk at your back be damned.

“Your grace,” you try again, voice soft to match his. “What are you doing?”

It’s odd to see the normally eloquent man, who never stutters in his words or backtrack in his thoughts, to be so quieted— almost struggling with finding the right words.

“I don’t know,” Wriothesley settles on finally, a furrow in his brow. “I… don’t know. Something I should have done sooner, probably. This… thing between us has been driving me mad. I feel like I’d regret it if I hesitated any longer, you know?”

And oh, you do. The unspoken tension that hangs in the air when it’s just you two in his office, when you have lunch, or spend time together— you feel like it’s been clogging your airways and making it hard to breath. Each day with you both toeing the line of the meaning of all those longing glances and soft smiles had been wearing on you. What a relief to know that you’re not alone in your struggles.

You hum, leaning forward just enough so your nose brushes his. With a thrill in your stomach, you don’t miss how he swallows heavily, how he blushes just the tiniest bit.

“If you’ve grown tired of our song and dance, then pray tell— what do you want to do instead?”

“Whatever you want,” is his immediate answer. There’s a growing confidence in his eyes, a hope that flickers brighter and brighter with each second you let him be near you like this. “Whatever you’re willing to give me. Whether that be just a single kiss and nothing more, or being able to wake up beside you and kiss you good morning until you get sick of me.” Then he swallows, his words coming out slower. “But if you push me away and you say none of this meant anything, that’s fine too. Like I said— whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll take without complaint.” But I really, really hope that you don’t choose that last one. I think my heart would actually break.

You can see how Wriothesley grows more tense with each second of your silence. He tries to cover it up well, but you know his tells. He glances away, the flush on his cheeks traveling up to the tips of his ears, making him look cuter than you ever thought was possible.

A soft hand on his cheek is all it takes to snap his attention back to you.

“Morning kisses don’t sound too bad,” you tell him slowly, wanting him to hear every word. You think you can feel your heart in your throat. “Though I have to ask: is breakfast gonna be included in this deal? Because a hard ‘no’ to that is an absolute dealbreaker for me.”

And when Wriothesley grins, when he has to fight the laugh that begs to be let loose from his chest and the minute tremble that rakes through his whole body, you think you’ve never seen him more radiant. You wish to see that kind of softness on him every single day. Oh, you’re so damn smitten with his man.

“You’re gonna have to settle with my shitty cooking, but I can at least promise that I’ll try.” The look in his eyes is gooey and warm and sweet— the flavor of melted chocolate and honey.

You wrap your arms around his neck, slinging them over his shoulders, and rewardingly scratching the nape of his neck when his arms come to wrap around and press you to his chest in turn. “Sounds delightful,” you say, and his heart does a flip in his chest. Can scarcely believe that this is real.

“Can I kiss you? Please?” He asks softly. “I’ve been wanting to do it for the longest time.”

You hum, looking at him from beneath your lashes. “Go right ahead, your grace.”

His thumb presses gently against the plush of your bottom lip, the edges of his restraint visibly fraying. “My name, please. If I’m going to kiss you, I’d rather have my name on your lips, not my title.”

“Wriothesley, I’m waiting for that kiss.”

You have just a split second to register the absolutely lovesick look on his face at the sound of you saying his name, the way he melts and shakes against you. How he looks at you so softly it almost makes you choke up. Wriothesley presses his lips against yours, painstakingly gentle as he moves against you, in a kiss much too long overdue— the first in a series of many that he’s all too happy to give you.

[xxcallmemaryxx]

IV x GN reader

IV with a little bit of separation anxiety... he just can't keep his hands off you...

He was good at keeping it together. At first anyway… when the two of you were still getting used to each other and adjusting to being together. Nights spent with him in your bed unable to keep your hands off each other, that bled into mornings with him wrapped around you as you sort some kind of breakfast out for you both. It was magical and amazing and kept a goofy smile plastered permanently on your lips. 

But there was downtime too. When he went home for a few nights. When you both needed to prioritise work for a little while. When he went away for tour and was out and about exploring the world and making unreal memories for thousands of people every night. Texts and phone calls became your usual and it was fine. You missed each other, of course, but ultimately it was doable. 

Until he changed. 

The time you’d each spend at your own houses without the other became shorter and shorter as the months went on. IV making himself very comfortable within the walls of your home, it was nice to see honestly. Knowing he felt welcomed and relaxed here was a good feeling. But then when it came time for him to go back home, he’d somehow always manage to convince you to pack a bag and stay with him for a few days then too. 

How could you ever say no to him? 

Eventually, if it came time for you to go back home again for whatever reason. He’d try everything he could to convince you to stay longer. Swearing he doesn’t mind and he wants you with him. He enjoys your presence and how warm his bed is every morning that he wakes up with you in it. 

He pouts when he realises he needs to let you leave. But tells you he’ll be seeing you again in a few days time, leaving no room for argument.

You found it endearing honestly. This beautiful man who loves to spend his time with you. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t flattered, the temptation to just stay with him everyday was very present. But you’d never get anything done if that was the case. He’s very good at keeping you buried underneath his blankets all day. 

He learnt very quickly ways that he could keep you close. Keep you around for longer. Just one more night, that turned into two more nights, that then turned into him convincing you to just stay for the rest of the week and go back home after the weekend. 

“We didn’t end up finishing that show we started… stay tonight and we’ll finish it.”

Spoiler: you don’t finish it that night either. Which IV made sure of.

“Wait, I wanted to cook that one dish for you… we completely forgot about it. Stay tonight, we can go shopping for the stuff tomorrow and then I’ll make it for dinner for us tomorrow…”

Spoiler: he starts dinner kind of late and oh! Look at the time! You might as well just stay again tonight. 

“Oh you should go home? But it’s Friday… just stay for the weekend and I’ll take you home on Sunday night.”

Spoiler: Sunday night rolls around and guess what…

“You have work in the morning? Well, if you stay tonight I’ll drive you in. You won’t have to wake up as early if I take you…”

Spoiler: guess who opts to pick you up from work that afternoon. And oh look at that… you’re back at his house again that night too. 

He begins to run out of ideas though, he can only “forget” to do so many things with you while you’re staying with him. And the panic sets in when he sees you starting to get your stuff together and he can’t think of anything to get you to stay again. 

He knows he has to deal with it. He can’t force you to stay. He wants you to come back. He wants you to want him to come back to your house, and if giving you time on your own is what you need then he’ll give it to you. 

But when he comes back home to a quiet, empty house… he can’t help the tightness that grows in his chest. He locks up for the night and makes his way to bed. The sheets still a mess, just how the two of you left them earlier that day. And his throat constricts when he crawls back underneath them alone. It’s cold. It’s quiet. It’s dark in there. He grabs the pillow you slept on, hugging it into his chest and curling himself around it. He closes his eyes and pretends it’s you he’s curled around instead. Burying his face into it and breathing in, he can still smell you on it. He huffs and reaches for his phone, already typing out the words ‘I miss you’ before he even double checks who he’s sending it too. And he lays awake all night, long after you’ve said your goodnights, feeling just… off. He feels weird. He’s unsettled and he’s tense and he just can’t rid the pit that’s sat steady in his stomach since he got home. 

It gets worse though.

You notice after a while that he cannot for the life of him keep his hands off you. Constantly holding yours. Constantly holding your hips. Constantly resting on your legs when he pulls them onto his lap. (Which is always, if he’s not already snuggled up behind you on the couch.) You’ve caught him a few times with your hands in his, playing with your fingers, massaging your knuckles, running his fingers over the back of your hand. Or kneading the meat of your thighs between his hands absentmindedly. Not even trying to suggest anything, not trying to get you worked up, but genuinely just content because his hands are on you. 

Do you think you can enter another room on your own? Wrong. You can’t. 

Because IV will follow you through the house, around every room and back again. 

The washing machine is done? You need to go hang out clothes? IV’s hand is in yours and you’re walking to the laundry together.

Oh you’re hungry? Need to start on dinner? IV is snuggled against your back as you get stuff ready the whole time. 

Sitting down to eat dinner together, and you dare sit opposite him? He’s playing footsie with you underneath the table. Which will turn into him grabbing your foot and planting it on his lap so he can keep his hand on your ankle the whole time. 

Is he naturally just a touchy feely person? Yes. Yes he is.

But just the thought alone of having to go days without you around drives him nuts. He can’t do it. He feels sick. He can’t sleep. He can barely eat. He needs your presence to function. 

He ponders the thought of driving to your house, packing all your stuff and moving you into his house more often than he’d be willing to admit. You’re with him enough as it is already. You might as well just stay forever right?

.

.

.

MASSIVE CREDITS TO MY POOKIE @ghostlygothicgay !!!!

He gave me this idea, and then we ran rampant with it in our messages.

if you're an IV whore like me, give him a follow, he's so fun to talk too!!!

[satorsra]

Keys

wc: 651

notes: day 17 without my glorious king. miss him sm </3

🔑.ೃ࿐

“I’m sorry again for dropping the hot sauce on your skirt.” Satoru sighs as you two get to your front porch. “I’ll buy you a new one. Promise.” Eyes trailing down from yours down to the small orange stain on your thigh.

The dinner date was fun, so you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad at him.

You let out a small laugh and hit his arm. “You don’t need to do that, it’ll wash out anyways. No biggie.” You turn around and reach in your purse to take out your keys which seemed to be running away from your hands. You continued to rummage around your purse and look for those damn keys.

“Well yeah I don’t need to but I want to. Not like I’m low on funds either, no where close.” He smirks to himself and runs his hands through his hair, boasting as if his full bank account was news to you. But you feel bad whenever he spends a lot of money on you everytime.

“Hm.” You curtly reply, too busy now unzipping every pocket on your purse for your keys.

He pouts. “Alright, I’ll get you the skirt you’re wearing right now and three more. How’s that sound?” He asks like he’s trying to strike a deal, raising his eyebrows despite your back being towards him.

At this point though, you were starting to panic because you could’ve sworn you put the keys in your purse.

“Satoru, new skirts would be lovely but what good would they be if I’m homeless?” You mutter frustradedly as you turn around to his smirk still plastered on his face.

“And why would you be homeless?” He asks, it sort of ticks you off how nonchalant he is.

“Oh I don’t know, probably because I’ve been desperately trying to find our keys for the past five minutes now?” Your brows furrow together and you’re nervously playing with your hands, even though you’re trying to act like you’re mad.

“Do you have them?” You ask worriedly, not noticing the suspicious way he’s not saying anything.

“No.” His response was fast. Too fast. But you were too scared now to realize.

“What? But I put them in my purse before leaving, I know I did!” Patting yourself down, trying to feel for them in your nonexistent pockets. “What if someone stole them? We’d have to go to the police station…”

He’s watching you intently with a straight face, not sure how long he can keep the facade up. Of course he has them, he took them from you while you guys were still at the restaurant – just for fun. But he’s starting to feel bad now, seeing your bottom lip jut out.

“Ohh, you mean these keys?” He seemingly spawns them from no where, spinning them around on his finger. “Thought you were talking about the mailbox keys or somethin–”

“Gahh, you asshole!” You sigh loudly in relief. “Don’t do that! Gimme those.” You say as you try and grab them from his hand, only for him to raise his hand way above your head. Typical Satoru behaviour.

He smirks down at you. “Let me get you some new skirts and I’ll give ‘em.”

“Tsk, okay! Gosh lemme go inside already, you’re so annoying.” You roll you eyes and try jumping to reach them.

He grabs your waist. “What do we say when we want something~?”

You would’ve made a snarky reply, but his strong arm and close proximity of his body makes you falter.

“Please…”

“There we go!” Tone changing from low and flirty to overly happy in one second. He hands the keys over to you and lets go of your waist.

You exagerratedly snatch them from him and turn to unlock the door, and as you do you add in, “Four new skirts, two dresses, and a new tv. And extra kisses.”

He chuckles. “Yes ma’am.”

[diqnbaus]

Let You Break My Heart Again (Part 3)

Pairing: Miles Morales x fem!reader

Summary: You, Gwen, and Miles go out and have some fun!!!

Category: I forgot the opposite of angst

A/N: I barely remember the ATSV movie. I was so focused on not having a stroke that I forgot to pay complete attention, so lmk if anything is wrong please :-).

Looking between the two, nothing seems to be terribly wrong. Sure, Gwen is looking at you like she’s just seen a ghost, and Miles is looking at you like he’s just been caught doing something he shouldn’t. But they quickly recover before starting to speak.

“Hey, y/n. Long time no see-“

“What’s up, y/n?” Gwen and Miles both speak at the same time, before being cut off by you slowly closing the door on them. You are not dealing with this right now.

For a second you stand in front of the closed door, before you turn around and begin walking out of the apartment.

The door opens and Gwen and Miles come rushing out.

“You’re leaving? But I just got here,” Gwen says walking over to you.

You turn around. “Yeah, I have uh.. homework.”

“Oh c’mon. You know what they say, ‘homework is temporary, friendships are forever’,” she responds.

“No one has ever said that.”

“I just did,” she smiles. “So are you in or not?”

You pause before looking over at Miles. He looks almost pleading. What for? You don’t know. But you’re not going to let him get in between you and seeing your very long distance friend.

“Yeah. I’ll go,” you respond while Gwen cheers and high-fives a smiling Miles. “I need to change though.”

“Miles does too,” Gwen responds while Miles nods. “I’ll be on top of a building when you guys are done. You’ll have to figure out which one.”

Gwen climbs out the living-room window, leaving you and Miles in silence.

“Y/n-“ Mike’s starts before you cut him off.

“Don’t. Not right now. I just want to spend time with Gwen like how it used to be. We can talk after.”

As you start walking over to the bathroom, Miles responds, “tomorrow?”

“Sure,” you say before closing the bathroom door and changing into your spider-suit.

Swinging around the city with your friends made you feel at home. For the past few months you had felt like something was missing, this was it.

The adrenaline from jumping from tall buildings and catching yourself just before you hit the ground had you giddy. This was the happiest you had been in months.

Taking a break, the three of you sat on top of a building trying to catch your breath.

“Jesus, y/n. Do you need a minute? Or maybe ten?” Miles teases you. You send him a playful glare before going and sitting on the edge of the roof.

The sun was still up, but you could tell night was coming soon. You had always loved night time, looking up at the stars and the moon while thinking about all of the other things that have done the same as you. Of course, you couldn’t see the stars very well in New York because of light pollution, but you liked to pretend the lights on the buildings were stars. In your head, the city was its own little galaxy that you needed to protect.

“What do you think, y/n?” Gwen asks from beside you.

“I uh, I’m sorry what were you talking about?”

“The multiverse,” Miles replies.

“Oh. Well um, it’s pretty big I guess,” you respond while nervously picking at the gloves on your suit.

Gwen snorts. “You’re not wrong. But we’re talking about fate. Like how things are bound to happen in every universe.”

“Oh, we’ll I never really thought about that. I didn’t know the universes were that connected,” you reply, a little confused.

“You have no idea,” she mumbles, but before you can ask more questions, she gets up. “I’m a little hungry. How about we go back to that party on Miles’ roof?”

“Sounds good to me, I’ll kind of have to hide though,” Miles says.

You groan, realizing that you’re going to have to stand up and swing around again.

“Literally, how are you a spider-woman?” Gwen asks jokingly.

“I don’t know either,” Miles responds. “She didn’t even show up to a fight earlier.”

“Oh please, you’re one to talk about not showing up. Besides, that cow guy didn’t seem like that big of a deal.”

“Okay it’s time to go!” Gwen shouts, jumping off the building and swinging towards Miles’ apartment. You give Miles a look before doing the same.

As soon as you make it to the party, you decide to give Miles and Gwen space by going to get a soda. And maybe another cookie, making a mental note to ask Mrs. Morales where she got them.

As if hearing her name telepathically, Mrs. Morales approaches you.

“So? How did it go? Is he out of his angsty teen phase?”

“Um, it went well, but he’s still pretty angsty,” you reply, faking concern.

She laughs before looking around for him, only to find him under the water tower with a girl. “Who’s that?”

“Oh, her? That’s uh,” what was her fake name again? “Gwanda.”

“Gwanda huh? I better go find Jeff,” she replies, almost distracted. After she walks off, leaving you there, you try to find something to busy yourself, settling on picking at your nails.

You watched the whole interaction from afar. You really didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was so hard not to. From Miles’ parents meeting “Gwanda,” to her leaving, to Miles and his mom talking. To be honest, the whole thing was hard to watch. So towards the end, you stopped. It hurt that Gwen left without saying goodbye to you directly, but you understood that she and Miles were better friends than you two were.

Apparently, Miles and his mom finished their conversation because Miles comes to find you and drag you away by the arm

“Let’s go, I wanna follow Gwen. This whole thing is weird,” he rushes out, still pulling you.

“Ow,” you mutter, making him loosen his grip. “Are you sure you just don’t want to see Gwen?”

“What? No,” he gives you a look, but you give him one too. One that says you don’t believe him but will pretend like you do.

You sigh, still following him. You just wanted to get home and change into comfy clothes at this point.

A/N: i got carsick while writing this

[nolanfa-fanart]

Funny batfam gen (non-romantic) recs

last rec list was not exactly happy fics, so to offset it, have funny ones:

Gen fic recs for @genuaryficrecs! Fandom: DC, batfam. Focus: Humour (most some also tear your heart out or engage in subtle character building, but you'll laugh while you cry) Humour is very widespread in fic (…in some fandoms at least), ranging from humour woven in the writing style itself, to situational absurd (crack), to making the reader laugh about absolutely horrifying shit (while still acknowledging how awful it is; which is something I feel I've only ever read in fic), to absolutely unhinged character reactions (to more I don't have in mind right now), so here, a small homage to that.

The Lone Ranger Never Had to Deal with Bruce Wayne, by @theskeptileptic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51476074) Chapters 6/6, 25.522 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne

Type of gen relationship: uh. Concerned Adult to Kid? Parental-ish? Or just neighbours, depending on who you ask.

Official summary: Tim is an independent, clever, and super mature eleven-year-old. Unfortunately, his dopey neighbor, Bruce, can’t seem to understand that. When he decides to disappear on a “solo camping trip” and run away to Canada, he figures it’s the perfect plan that will make everybody happy. He didn’t expect the Waynes would tag along with him and ruin everything. A six-chaptered tale filled with identity shenanigans, s’mores, soon-to-be-brothers, and a kid who is in desperate need of a new family.

Why I love it: This is. Hilarious. The perfect mix of very competent Tim and him still very much being an 11-years-old. Himbo Bruce Wayne who just so happens to totally accidentally run into Tim several times to innocently inquire about his parents' whereabouts. The horrifying fact of what Tim is actually doing and how he thinks, in his very logical way (and the horrifying fact that his parents agree with him).

Excerpts: from: thenanny8725@aol.com to: bwayne@we.com Mr. Wayne, Timothy told me you stopped by earlier today. I am sorry I didn’t get to talk with you. My thyroid was acting up and I was sleeping. Timothy is a good kid. I can make sure he’s safe skateboarding so there is no need to worry. Have a good day! Sincerely, The Nanny

from: bwayne@we.com to: thenanny8725@aol.com The Nanny, Thank you for your email last week. Timothy is most definitely a good kid. One of the best. I saw him at the Army Supply Store this afternoon and he mentioned you would be taking him to Cheesequake State Park to meet a friend this weekend? My boys and I are heading that way, so why don’t we save you a trip. We’ll make sure Timothy is taken care of. If you need anything at all, for any reason, please call me at this number: 9088780078. This is my cell phone and I answer it at all hours, no matter what. Nothing is too small or too much of a bother to pick up for. Anything that you need, Timothy’s Nanny, please call. Sincerely, Bruce Wayne - “Anyway, I was on my way to the course, and I realized your father and I haven’t gotten a chance to really ‘hang’, as you kids say, and I had a late tee time, so I thought I’d invite him along.” Mr. Wayne’s teeth were bright and Tim wondered if he used some sort of diamond paste on them. He looked around Tim’s shoulder, as if he wanted to see inside the mansion better. Tim hadn’t turned on any of the lights on account of his shitty night, so the early fall haze that Bristol was so well known for didn’t do much for his visibility. “I’m sorry, sir, you just missed him.” A pause. “Well, that’s ok, son. Why don’t you get your mom and I’ll give her a message? I’m sure you’ve got things to do.” He looked at Tim vapidly, smile still firmly in place. “I’m afraid she’s not here right now either. Shopping.” Tim gritted his teeth and went to close the door. Mr. Wayne’s huge ham hands (why were they so large?) stopped it before it slammed. He chuckled and Tim winced. “Your nanny, then.” Tim wasn’t sure, but thought the question sounded more strained than Mr. Wayne’s usual flavor of airheadedness. “She’s sleeping.” “At eleven in the morning?” “She has a thyroid problem. I’ll let them all know you stopped by.” Tim pushed the door closed but Mr. Wayne had somehow entered his foyer while he was speaking. “I’ll write them a note. They can call me when they get back.” He inched closer towards Tim, who sidestepped him before he could ruffle his hair.

--

Ain't No Compass, Ain't No Map, by @ebjameston (https://archiveofourown.org/works/38048365) Chapters: 9/9, 51.863 words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Type of gen relationship: siblings and friends

Official summary: CPS Agent, pointing at Tim Drake: We need to take him with us Red Hood: He's fine where he is CPS: He's a minor Hood: Timbo, you a minor? Tim: Can't prove it CPS: I mean, I can. There are records – Tim, who has just finishing hacking CPS to remove his own file: Oh really, tell me more about these records +++ A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood's lieutenant, and an intern who's promising to fix the IT systems at his office. It's a weird day for Theo.

Why I love it: This is probably the first (non-crossover) DC fic I read, and to date still one of my favorites. It's. Listen. It's from the point of view of a Child Protective Services agent. Who, given his whole deal is to Protect Children, has Opinions about the Robins. And interacts - unknowingly - with them when they're grown (identity porn! Banter!). And he likes them! And they like him! But they have… differing opinions. And I absolutely love it. So. Many. Feels. And humour. It's 80% jokes and 70% feels and 50% social commentary about the canon and 20% plot and 40% fluff and 30% angst and some parts are all of that at once.

Excerpt: “Nightwing, wait, serious question,” Theo says. “About when you were baby Robin.” Max’s fingers tense up a bit on Theo’s elbow, and some of the earlier tension creeps back into Nightwing’s frame. “Yes?” “Did the Batmobile have a car seat?” “Did the what have a what ,” Nightwing says. “I’ve seen your stats from when you were just getting started,” Theo says. “You weren’t anywhere close to 4-foot-9. You would’ve needed a booster seat for at least the first two years you were Robin, so.” “So, did the Batmobile have a carseat,” Nightwing repeats faintly. Theo gets out his phone to take notes. “Yes. That is what I am asking.” “Buddy,” Hood says. “Most of the Batmobiles don’t even have seatbelts.” “How would you even know that?” Bernard asks.

--

IRIS Log #1548, by @deadchannelradio (https://archiveofourown.org/works/51647209) Chapters: 1/1, 8531 Words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: whole batfam

Type of gen relationship: familial

Official summary: A Disclaimer From Your Friendly Neighborhood Oracle: The following is a transcript of Patrol Communications Audio written by state of the art transcription technology, IRIS (Interpretation of Recorded Intelligence Software). IRIS was created to provide easily searchable records, automatically, and eliminate the need to transcribe each patrol audio log manually. That being said, IRIS is still experimental, and may not always be entirely accurate. - (01:25) Red Hood: (Mild static) (Out of breath, slurred) You motherfuckers. Put some fuckin- (01:25) Batman: (Shaking) Red Hood- (01:25) Red Hood: Shut up. Put some fucking respect. On my name. Start fucking copying me. I just got thrown fucking. Um. 40 feet. Into a fucking uh. What's it. Ditch. I'm still fucking conscious. (01:25) Batman: Red Hood, do not move, we're en route- (01:25) Red Hood: What'll I win if I stand up. (01:25) Batman: (Loud) Do not stand up.

Why I love it: The format (transcription of comms) is fun. Also it's. Just. Really funny? The… energy of it? I mean just read the excerpts honestly.

Excerpt: (01:34) Nightwing: Don’t get mad, Red. He’s got a concussion. (01:34) Red Hood: (Agreeably) I am all bonked up. (Laughter: Nightwing) Hey. Cass. Cassie. Is my leg fucked. The right one. (01:34) Blackbat: It. (Pause, 3 seconds) (Reading) I am not your medical provider and can’t diagnose injuries or illness. Please ask your doctor when you are under their care. (01:34) Red Hood: Oh. Um, okay. Can you tell me as buddies? Not as my doctor. (Laughter: Spoiler, Red Robin) Just as buddies. (01:35) Blackbat: …Super busted. Bad. As buddies. (01:35) Batman: Blackbat. We are not medical- (01:35) Red Hood: She said as buddies. It’s fine. (01:35) Spoiler: (Laughing) The as buddies legal loophole.

--

Bang, bang, by Ididloveyou_once (@ididloveyou) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30246978) Chapters: 1/1, 5.563 words T, Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings (an accidental gunshot wound played for laughs)

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd

Type of gen relationship: very much Siblings

Official summary: ‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’ Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then- ‘Don’t tell Bruce.’Or: The family enjoy a normal movie night. Except Jason has a gunshot wound and Tim’s the only one who knows and oh- that’s because Tim’s the one who shot him and they really, really need to find a way to leave before anyone finds out.

Why I love it: Hmmm okay so maybe I really like a good Jason & Tim relationship. But objectively. This is great. Peak siblings relationships. The threat of Getting In Trouble forcing an emergency alliance between two mutually annoyed siblings who scramble to hide something? Peak comedy.

Excerpt: ‘Okay, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that either,’ he pinched the bridge of his nose, ‘I just mean. Don’t worry about me being in pain. I’m fine. And don’t worry about looking like an asshole. You shot me, you already look like an asshole. But that’s fine because now we’re even.’ Jason sighed at the kid’s sour expression. So his words of reassurance needed some work, sue him.

--

Into the Brighter Night, by @shoalsea (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20935463) Chapters: 12/12, 162,894 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Tim Drake, whole batfam, Young Justice team

Type of gen relationship: familial and friends

Official summary: When an unknown enemy threatens Robin, Gotham's vigilantes come together to keep him safe. Unfortunately, they're protecting the wrong Robin. Or: Tim Drake plans his own rescue. Things get complicated.

Why I love it: Oooooh not just batfam this time. Tim is way too competent, and the Young Justice have his back (and a lot of resentment towards the batfam). Hyperactive Young Justice energy, Very Good Characterization, miscommunication (as in Bruce -the whole batfam really- is trying but they're super bad at clearly expressing feelings). And the tone of it? The writing? Hilarious and rips your heart out. This is super interesting interconnected character dynamics (with the batfam and Tim's team that's so many more different relationships than usual) and a deep look at canon events, all of it wrapped in hilarious dialogue. One of my fave Tim-centric fics, and I've read some very good ones.

Excerpt: [Impulse on a long distance call with the batfam - minus Tim] Jay makes a disbelieving sound. “You’re telling me that Red Robin—Mr. Responsibility himself—helped you hide and maintain a secret spaceship for years? Seriously?” “Uh, yeah? Duh?” “No offense,” Duke says, “but that doesn’t really sound like the guy we know.” Bruce sighs. Stephanie huffs out a laugh. Impulse just looks unimpressed. “Are we talking about the same person? Robin numero tres, currently Red? The same guy who once hid an extra Batmobile in the batarang budget and shipped it to California in secret? The same guy who founded Young Justice, an unauthorized vigilante group of teens that started out with no adult supervision? And lied to the Justice League and the government to keep Secret safe?” “Secret?” Duke says at the same time Jay sputters out, “He stole a whole Batmobile?” “More like embezzled,” Impulse says. “But yeah, dude, it’s Rob. I know he gives off the straight-and-narrow vibe, like, 90% of the time he’s interacting with the public or authority figures, but that’s mostly because it’s way, waaaay easier to get away with stuff if you don't ‘openly project an air of defiance.’” “Oh my god,” Stephanie says. “He’s given you that speech too?” “He’s given us multiple versions of that speech,” Impulse says. Stephanie’s turned away from the screen now and is explaining to Duke, “Red Robin is kind of the definition of ‘I do what I want,’ but most of the time what he wants to do is at least nominally reasonable or responsible, so no one cares.” “And when somebody does care,” Impulse says, “you just gotta be sneaky and smart. Comply until their backs are turned, you know? I mean, even with the Titans we—what?” he pauses, spinning his chair, clearly distracted by something off-screen. “No, I’m just talking to the Bats. I think there’s a whole flock of them.” Conner Kent wanders into view, towelling off his hair and wearing what looks like some kind of maintenance jumper. “‘Sup,” he says to the camera, leaning in. “Superman’s not there, is he?” “Nope,” Impulse says. “Thank god. Where’s Rob?” “Batnap.” Conner puts his hands on his hips. “Dude. Weren’t you supposed to wake him up?” Impulse spins in his chair again. “Wonder Girl said not to.” “What, and he agreed?” “No. He might have been unconscious at the time. Which, technically, means Wonder Girl is in charge.” Conner groans. “He’s gonna kill you.” Turning to the camera, he adds, “Look, sorry about this, I’ll go get him.” “Heynowaitaminute,” Impulse says. “Listen. I’m the captain, you gotta at least hear me out!” Conner rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move. “Everything is still going according to plan, okay? Rob did in fact say that we should one hundred percent wake him up as soon as we could get a call through. True. But Wonder Girl said to let him sleep. And he definitely needs it.” “Yeah, but, again, he’s gonna be pissed if—” “Listen. I have thought this through.” When Conner just looks skeptical, he adds, “I have! I worked it out logically. See, if we wake up Rob, Wondy’s gonna be pissed off. At us. Right now. If we don’t wake him up, he’s gonna be pissed off later and he’s gonna be mad at her, not us. Therefore, we should do what Wonder Girl says.”

--

Beef Consommé, by @vamillepudding (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42348438) Chapters: 2/2; 14.230 words T, Chose Not To Use Warnings

Main Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson

Type of gen relationship: siblings

Official summary: Parenting is Bruce's thing, and Jason isn't planning on messing with that. But when Bruce fails to spot the countless red flags about Tim's home life, it falls to Jason to step up. Of course it does. Because he's literally the only one in his family who knows how to be responsible, and if Dick disagrees, he can suck it.

Why I love it: I have a weakness for the "Dick and Jason team up and adopt Tim" trope. Also, I love Jason's voice in it. (and this fic is very funny but I feel like I'm repeating myself)

Excerpts: “Pizza?” Tim repeats, sounding hopeful. Jason is on the verge of telling him to go screw himself, but then he starts wondering how long Tim has been in his apartment and whether he ate dinner before he came here. Probably not. Did he eat lunch? Should Jason ask? What would Dick do? “Fine,” he says eventually. “But I’m picking the toppings, and you can’t have dessert.” There’s a beat. “I didn’t want dessert,” Tim says, voice taking on a bewildered edge. “What are you talking about?” - It’s Wednesday evening and Jason is getting pizza. Dick’s waiting back in Jason’s apartment, because growing up with Bruce has him used to getting waited on hand and foot, and apparently he thinks Jason is his own personal servant or something. It’s oppression, is what it is. “It’s not oppression,” Dick yells after him just before Jason closes the door, “it’s called losing a coin toss, asshole!”

--

Birds on Jaybird Street, by @cynassa (https://archiveofourown.org/works/39115587) Chapters: 4/4, 14.717 words T, No Archive Warnings Apply

Main Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Type of gen relationship: Siblings

Official summary: Jason is both annoyed and weirdly flattered when the replacement turns up to ask him for help. He mentally rearranges his calendar so he can be free Wednesday evening and says, “No, fuck off, I have very important business going on.” Tim eyes his 72” TV playing Japanese wrestling more judgmentally than it really deserves. “Important crime things,” Jason emphasizes. “Make Wingdick do it.” Jason doesn't think much of it when Tim needs his help, or Damian moves in, or even when Dick turns up looking beat all to hell. But at some point he realizes that he might be the best option his brothers have to recover from the cycle of violence that Batman has set up, and all he can think is that things were much easier when he was the villain.

Why I love it: In which Dick and Jason decide to adopt Tim and Damian (Jason's kind of an asshole, but a caring one). Kind of the same reason as the previous one: love that trope, love the tone, very funny.

Excerpt: Jason lies, "Sure, I'll take it up with Bruce " "Sure you will, " Tim scoffs. Jason changes his mind, and decides he will take it up with Bruce. "I don't have the time to keep being your nanny," he announces and then says, disapprovingly, "you skateboard, why don't you have knee and elbow pads?" "I'm Robin," Tim snaps, like he didn't put pants on the costume like a little wuss.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

I never considered myself a Mayday girl but 👀 that last one got me in the fluffy feels so 33 and 47?

@coffeeandbatboys I know what you mean, but once you become a Mayday girl, I don't think there's ever a way to go back. LOL.

I hope you enjoy this one. I certainly did.

Love oo,

My Heart

Warnings: Frostbite, injuries, medical treatment, mistreatment of clones, anxiety, tears, anger, hitting the wall, kisses, innuendo, not feeling worthy enough, appreciation, I think that's it. If I miss anything, please let me know.

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You shook your head as. You gently placed Hexx’s hands in warm water, your heart hurt when he winced in pain. “I know, I know it hurts, Hexx. Just bear with it for a little bit, okay? Once we get your fingers defrosted, we can make sure there’s no permanent damage. Alright, sweetie?”

“Yeah. Thanks, vod’ika.”

“Don’t worry I got you. I’m gonna put your feet in warm water too, okay?”

Hexx simply nodded, too tired and cold to really answer. You wrapped his body in a blanket, “We gotta raise your body temperature okay? Your body suit was able to protect most of your body, thankfully, but we still need to bring it up okay. I’m gonna get you something hot to drink. Okay?” You wrapped the blanket around him tighter.

“Vod’ika, in case we don’t say this enough. You’re amazing.”

You gave him a soft smile as you patted his back, “Not that amazing, but I’ll take it. I’ll be back.”

As soon as you were out of his sight and heading to the poor excuse you all called a kitchen, you let the anger you had been holding back unleash itself on the wall, smacking it with your hand over and over again, as tears welled up in your eyes.

You felt the strong arms you have come to know even in your sleep; wrapping around you and holding you close, as you felt him pressing you into his chest, as you felt his heart beat against your back. He closed the door with his foot so you could break down in his arms, “It’s alright, babe. It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not!” You turned in his arms and buried your face in Mayday’s shoulder holding him close as you cried your eyes out. “Another hour and he would’ve lost his fingers and toes. What’s the point of staying here?”

Mayday wrapped his arms tighter around you, pressing kisses to your forehead, “Babe, I know…” he let out a sigh, “I don’t know what to do right now,” he let out a chuckle. “I can either get super angry and pissed with you and we go to the training room, go a couple rounds of sparring or… I just stand here and shower you with kisses, because the fact that you get so upset about one of my men, means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

A soft giggle escaped your lips as you nuzzled into his chest, “Oh, I love you.”

“I know, and you have to know there’s no one I could love like I love you. You’re one in a million cyar’ika.”

“So are you babe” you pulled back to look at him, smiling. “How do you do that?”

“What?”

“Make my anger washaway?”

“Simple, mesh’la. I make sure to keep your needs above my own.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “What is the prognosis on Hexx though?”

“Well I got him warming up his hands and feet right now. I’m going to take him some warm cocoa. Once he’s warm enough, I’ll dry off his hands and feet, see what sort of damage he’s dealing with and then go from there.”

His hands rubbed your back as he placed another kiss on your forehead, “Thank the force … for whatever that’s worth.”

You let out a sigh as you leaned back and looked into his eyes, “I should get back,” you stood on your toes and leaned in and kissed him, “I’ll see you later, right?”

“Yeah, cyar’ika.” Once he was sure your anger had subsided, he slowly lowered his arms and hands until he held yours as he looked at you, “Cyar’ika, before I go,” his hands gently held yours, lifting them until they pressed into his chest, “I want you to know how much we appreciate you being here. You could’ve left like all the others, be asked to get transferred out, but you didn’t. You’ve stuck by our side from day one since you joined our unit. You are one of the best medics the GAR or the Empire has ever seen, you should be somewhere better than this barren wasteland of a planet. You should have someone better by your side, than me. Someone who can do so much more for you, than what I can. And the fact … the fact you’ve … you’ve taken care of us, supported us, tried to find ways to keep us alive and safe …” He pressed his forehead against yours, and took in a deep breath, “You are my heart, cyar’ika. It doesn’t beat without you.”

You closed your eyes, breathing him in, “You are the air I breathe, and you are exactly where you need to be, by my side. I don’t care about that stuff, all I care about is you, and your men.”

“You can always lean on me, okay? When things get hard, when you get angry and need to smack a wall, or you need to scream your head off, I’m here for you. Alright? That’s what this is all about, you’re there for me, and I’m there for you. Always.”

“Yeah…” you nodded in understanding, “I need to get back to Hexx, but I love you.”

“I love you,” Mayday gave you one last kiss before letting you go, so you could focus on Hexx’s injuries, “and tonight, I’ll wear you out good and proper so you don’t have to be so worried.”

You giggled at his innuendo, “Promise?”

“Try and stop me” he chuckled, pressing one more kiss to your lips, before he headed back to his men.

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Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[tiny-wooden-robot-fics]

Onset - Chapter Two.

Rating: Explicit Media: Jujutsu Kaisen/JJK Pairing: Geto Suguru x Original Female Character Characters: Geto Suguru, Valerie (OC) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Established Friendship, Geto and OC are roommates, Self-Insert, Smut, Penis in Vagina Sex, Creampie, Brief mention of an inability to get pregnant, Unprotected Sex, Cunnilingus, if I tagged everything we’d be here all day, This is part of a series

Part 3 of Sundane

Previous Part: Egg Fried Rice

Previous Chapter: One

Summary:

He isn’t expecting her to throw his earlier words back at him that way, and it catches him off-guard. “Why do you always remember the dumb shit I say?”

“Was it dumb?”

“It wasn’t absolute,” he mumbles. He pauses, knowing that if he says what he wants to say next, he’ll kick himself for it.

He says it anyway. “Sometimes one slips through the cracks, you know,” he adds softly. “Sometimes, there’s one that really is special.”

Read on AO3

“I’m sorry about what I said.”

She’s started to doze off when he says it, and it takes her sluggish, sated brain a few seconds to catch up with her ears. “What?” 

Shit. He’s torn between two feelings. The first is annoyance that she hasn’t somehow magically read his mind and figured out what he’s apologizing for. He doesn’t want to have to explain himself. He wants her to know why he’s sorry, so they can move past it and forget it happened.

The second, more prominent feeling is that pang of guilt that’s resurfaced, sticking in his side and reminding him that he actually does owe her an apology for what he said earlier. He once again pushes that pang of guilt back into the abyss, but the residual feelings that linger leave him wanting to clear the air. “What I said earlier,” he sighs. “About you not being able to get pregnant. I know it’s a sore spot for you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she says with a shrug. “It’s not like you to feel sympathy for something like that, and it isn’t something other people care about either.”

He lifts his head from her stomach to look up at her. She’s smiling, but he gets the feeling it’s because she thinks she should be. “You wanna talk about it?”

Her fingers pause in their movement in his hair as she considers his face. His expression is open, non-judgmental, as if meant to make her feel like she can continue talking about this if she wants to. Part of her wants to spill everything - to tell him these feelings that she’s never shared with anyone else. But part of her feels like talking about this with Suguru would be like opening a door she won’t ever be able to close again. 

She is still contemplating opening that door when she feels the soft warmth of Suguru’s lips against her skin. It’s a gentle kiss on her hip, and she thinks it feels a little like encouragement.

“Well,” she starts softly, resuming her gentle strokes through his hair. “You’re right, it’s a sore spot. The thing itself is something that I know I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life, and I can deal with it. But whenever people find out, they only ever acknowledge the thing itself. They don’t acknowledge all the complicated feelings that come with it. 

“It isn’t a choice I wanted to make,” she goes on. “And if I’d had the ability to choose otherwise, I would have. People who have gotten to choose - and who still can - don’t seem to understand that. So when they say things like ‘you’re not missing anything’ and ‘you’re lucky you still have your freedom,’ it just ends up feeling like… like they’re invalidating how I really feel and telling me how they think I should feel instead.” She pauses. “Enjoying the life that I have now and feeling like I’m missing out on that thing I can’t have aren’t mutually exclusive, you know?”

“I get it,” Suguru muses. “Kinda like somebody who insinuates you should be relieved that your chronically ill parent has finally died. Like, yeah, taking care of them and being worried all the time while they’re alive and sick is stressful and emotionally draining. But it doesn’t mean you want them to die, and it doesn’t mean you don’t miss them when they do.”

Stunned, she stares down at him. “Huh. Actually, yeah. That’s a pretty accurate comparison.”

Suguru is quiet for a long time. When he finally speaks, it isn’t to tease her or to make fun of what she’s told him. “Now that I know how you really feel about it,” he starts quietly, “I don’t think it’s something I could ever joke about. And I’m doubly sorry for making light of it before.”

She hates that there’s a lump in her throat, and so she speaks before that lump can manifest itself in tears. “Why are you being so sweet to me?”

“I told you I was giving you the princess treatment today.”

“Right,” she recalls. “It doesn’t hurt to make them feel special, even if they’re not. That’s what you said.” 

He isn’t expecting her to throw his earlier words back at him that way, and it catches him off-guard. “Why do you always remember the dumb shit I say?”

“Was it dumb?”

“It wasn’t absolute,” he mumbles. He pauses, knowing that if he says what he wants to say next, he’ll kick himself for it. 

He says it anyway. “Sometimes one slips through the cracks, you know,” he adds softly. “Sometimes, there’s one that really is special.”

His words hit her right in her chest, hard enough to make her take a deep breath. It’s on the tip of her tongue to ask - am I special? She bites the words back, unsure if she’d even want to know the answer. 

“Come on,” Suguru says, when it’s clear she isn’t going to speak. He sits up, taking hold of her hands.

“Where are we going?”

“You’re gonna wait for me in the shower while I change your sheets,” he tells her, pulling her up into a sitting position. “Unless you wanna sleep in a bed full of my sweat and cum,” he adds with a smirk. “Some people have a thing for that.”

“Wait for you?” She repeats, choosing to ignore the latter part of what he’s said. She lets him pull her off of the bed, lets him maneuver his rumpled shirt over her head so she can have something to give her a bit of warmth and some semblance of decency. 

Suguru himself doesn’t seem to care about warmth or decency as he begins stripping the bed of its sheets in only his skin. “Mmhm,” he murmurs patiently, pausing to push her in the direction of the bathroom on the other side of her bedroom. “I won’t be long. Run the water, yeah? Make sure it’s warm, and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Stop reading into it, she scolds herself. This is all routine for him. “Right,” she laughs. “It always takes at least ten minutes for it to get hot.”

He makes an affirming noise and turns his attention back to the bed. She stands there for a moment longer - enjoying the view, she would say if anyone asks her - before turning away. 

--

He finds her in the bathroom a few minutes later. “Is it hot?” He nods in the direction of the shower. 

“Yeah.” She’s feeling suddenly awkward, ridiculously bashful. “Do you want to go first, or should I?”

Puzzled, Suguru looks back at her. “If I wanted separate showers, I would’ve just showered in my own bathroom,” he points out. “I told you to wait for me so we could go in together,” he adds, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for the two of them to co-shower. 

“I know how to bathe myself,” she retorts. “I’m not a kid.”

“Good, because I don’t fuck kids,” he snickers. “What I do do, however, is make sure the adults I fuck are well-taken care of. Both in bed and outside of it,” he adds, tilting his head and leaning close so he can look her directly in the eye. “So you can either climb into the shower yourself, or I can lift you up and put you there. Whatever you like.”

She stays where she is long enough to say, “You said doodoo.” 

His palm just misses her ass as she scurries away. 

--

Showering is a functional thing; she knows that it’s meant to serve the purpose of getting a body clean. Even though she’s taken showers with lovers before (should she think of Suguru as a lover? While it’s true that they’ve had sex, she is hesitant to bestow that title on him just yet), she has never viewed anything about the act of showering in itself as sexy.

But she would be hard-pressed to deny that there is something incredibly erotic about the way her roommate-turned-bedfellow handles her in the shower. His touch is gentle, her washcloth an extension of his hands as he bathes her. Nothing that he does is designed to arouse her, but she finds herself marveling at how the way he’s touching her feels almost more intimate than what they’ve just done in her bed.

“You’re good at this,” she tells him, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the steady stream of water coming out of both showerheads. 

“I know,” he asserts, a smug expression on his face. “Aren’t you glad you waited for me?”

She leans forward, sinking her teeth into one of his pectorals. It isn’t meant to hurt, just to shut him up, and he yelps. Satisfied, she leans back to look at the faint little bite marks left behind.

“Haven’t you marked me up enough?” He grouses.

“I could say the same about you,” she shoots back. “It’s a good thing I wasn’t planning on wearing anything low-cut to work tomorrow.” 

“Dummy,” he laughs, reaching for the washcloth he’d brought in for himself. “You work from home. Who would see you anyway?”

She shrugs. “Zooms are still a thing, you know.” She watches him pour her peony-scented body wash onto his washcloth. “You’re gonna smell like me,” she warns.

“Where am I going that anybody would care? You like it enough to have it, and you’re the only one who’s gonna smell me.”

“Good point.” She watches him lather himself up for a few minutes longer. Then, “Let me help.”

He obliges her. When she gets to his back, she pauses. The scratches weren’t enough to draw blood, but she can see that she did end up breaking the skin in a few places. She’s careful when washing those spots, trying to emulate the gentle way he’d cleaned her. 

Suguru goes quiet for the duration of the time they’re in the shower, and she wonders what he’s thinking about.

--

“I don’t need that,” he protests, keeping his elbow raised to block her approach. 

“It takes six seconds for your skin to dry out once you’ve washed your face.” She’s brandishing one of her high-end skincare products like a weapon. “You should at least moisturize it.” 

“I don’t need it,” he repeats stubbornly.

“I beg to differ,” she sighs. “You may not see the difference right now, but you will in five or ten years.” 

He rolls his eyes at her but says nothing. Nor does he lower his arm.

“Suguru,” she huffs, exasperated. “You can’t expect to pamper me and not let me do the same for you.”

He looks down at her. “Is that what this is?” He motions to the bottle of moisturizer in her hand. “Is this your version of aftercare?”

“If I say yes, will you let me put it on you?”

She thinks he’s going to say no again. To her mild shock and utter delight, he lowers his defense arm and sits obediently on the closed toilet lid. “Fine,” he assents. “But just this once.”

“That’s what they all say,” she grins. “I’ll have you hooked on Dermalogica in no time.”

She treats his skin exactly the way she’s treated her own post-cleanse: toner, moisturizer, eye cream, and serum. She applies each product carefully, her touch gentle as she uses the pads of her fingers to massage the liquids and creams into his skin. 

“You do this every night?” He asks when she’s done, watching her line the bottles back up in the organizer on her vanity.

“Yep,” she tells him, her attention focused on what she’s doing. “Morning has a slightly different routine.”

He’s still sitting on the closed toilet lid. She’s within reach, straightening the other bottles and tubes in her organizer. It would be so easy to wrap his arm around her waist and bring her nearer to him, to pull her down into his lap. To cradle her close so he can breathe in the smell of her hair and feel her soft skin against his once more. So he can register her heart beating against his chest and put one hand against her back to feel her breathing.

His hand actually twitches with the urge. Shit, he thinks, as he balls the hand into a fist. What the fuck is wrong with me?

--

Valerie finds it curious, the way they’ve picked right back up where they left off, like slipping on a pair of well-worn pants. Suguru takes out the leftover fried rice that they’d had the presence of mind to put in the fridge and dumps it into a pan for reheating while she scrolls through their shared streaming apps to find something they can watch while they eat.

She’s been sure that it would feel awkward to spend time together the way they normally do after what’s transpired between them. If it weren’t for the soreness in her legs and the burgeoning love bites on her neck and chest, she would wonder if what they did was simply a figment of her imagination. Just further proof you are not one of the special ones, her brain reminds her, unsolicited. You never are, remember?

“Shut up,” she mutters back at it.

“What was that?” Suguru calls from the kitchen. “Couldn’t hear you.”

“I was just asking what you’re in the mood to watch,” she calls back.

“Pick whatever you want. All that stuff in the community queues is stuff we both wanted to watch, so it doesn’t really matter to me.”

She finally settles on a lighthearted comedy they’ve both watched before. It’s an old favorite and one that doesn’t require their full attention to follow. He seems pleased with what she’s chosen when he finally joins her, handing her a bowl and a spoon and settling next to her with his own food. 

Halfway through the third episode, she mutters, “I usually put on my headphones, you know.” 

Suguru turns to look at her, amused. “Is this a conversation I’m invited to join, or should I leave the room and let you continue?” He asks, pausing the show.

“I was talking to you,” she sighs. “You asked me - earlier - if I was gonna pretend I’ve never heard you jerking off.” She shrugs, fiddling with the blanket in her lap. “I have, but whenever I know you are, I just put my noise cancelers on for a while.”

“Why?”

She stares at him. “Because that’s private. It’s not something I should listen to.” 

“Maybe not.” He laughs. “But are you saying you wanted to?”

“Suguru.”

“What? It’s a fair question, isn’t it?” He shifts on the sofa, turning to face her full-on. 

“Actually, it isn’t,” she huffs with a laugh. 

“Can’t be that you’re embarrassed,” he goes on. He leans forward, a teasing smirk on his face and his eyes trained on hers. “You let me put a part of my body inside yours. Actually,” he amends thoughtfully, “I’ve had several parts of my body inside yours.” 

“You get on my damn nerves.” She snatches both bowls up and gets up to carry them into the kitchen. 

Of course he follows her. “You still didn’t say yes or no,” he insists. 

Valerie turns to him, offering him her sweetest smile. “It will be a cold day in hell before I do that, Suguru.” 

“Hmm.” He leans back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, watching her load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “I think the fact that you refuse to answer me is probably an answer within itself.”

“Fuck off.”

It only makes him laugh. “Fine,” he says finally. “You don’t have to tell me. But until you say otherwise, I’m just gonna assume the answer is yes.” 

Once again there are words threatening to escape her; she wants to tell him that he’s right, that she does want to hear him jerking himself off. But more than that, she wants it to be her he’s thinking of when he wraps his hand around himself and thrusts into his fist. She wants it to be her face he’s seeing when he closes his eyes, when he’s putting himself in danger of going lightheaded because it feels so good he’s forgetting to breathe. 

She says none of those things. “Keep dreaming,” she says, flashing him another sweet smile. “Let’s go - the tv’s probably timed out on us.” 

Something unreadable passes across his face, too quick for her to identify it. After the split second that she sees it, he smiles casually back at her, and whatever was beneath the mask he now wears is lost forever. “Yeah.”

About Me | My Fics | Ask

[czenzo]

Just an Act

[ao3]

summary: When Lockwood & Co. are called out on a case involving a jealousy-ridden Visitor, Lucy is forced to confront her own tangle of feelings and why it bothers her so much to see someone shamelessly flirt with her boss.

words: 6,360 rating: T

notes: this is my secret santa gift for Mar (@thegirlfromthesea)—I hope you like it! thank you to the Lockwood discord for hosting it again :)

happy holidays!

“So, Mr Lockwood, where’d you learn to use your rapier like that?”

Lucy snorted; she couldn’t help it.

A girl, not much older than Lucy, looked up at Lockwood through thick lashes. She was stereotypically pretty—irritatingly so—and had taken quite the shine to the company leader.

Lockwood smiled politely. “I took lessons as a young boy. Fantastic teachers, they were. Now, er—if you don’t mind, Miss…?”

“Haine,” she said with a smile. “Emily Haine. But, ooh, just Emily is fine.”

Watching Haine stick by Lockwood’s side as he inspected the nooks and crannies of the master bedroom made Lucy think of a limpet. The girl leaned in further and ogled his figure in that slightly too tight suit of his; it negated the explanation she gave of wanting to ‘learn the tricks of the trade’ when they first encountered her. They were only an hour into their work for the evening, and Lucy had already held back several scoffs.

Lockwood awkwardly cleared his throat. “Miss Haine, if you would be so kind as to give us a tad more space so we can work efficiently, that would be wonderful.”

She took a single step back.

George, who had been mid-tea sip, spluttered. “Christ. Lockwood, I’ll go and get a head start on the other room readings while you deal with this. Luce, do you want—”

Lucy scooped up her bag and held the door open for him. “Yes.”

Once the door swung shut behind them, George turned to her with a knowing look. “Not too keen on her, are you?”

She gave him a sidelong glance as they advanced down the hallway. “You don’t seem to be, either.”

“Anyone—or anything—that hinders our work is a nuisance in my book, sweet young girl or not." He paused to clean his glasses on the hem of his jumper then added with a chuckle, "She batted her eyelashes so much I thought she’d fly away any minute.”

Lucy held back what she was sure was a very ugly bout of laughter. “I can’t believe Mr Albrecht is letting his staff run around all willy-nilly while we’re trying to work.”

“I doubt that's the case,” George said. “This place is massive. He’ll have loads of staff, but she’s the only one we’ve come across. There must be a reason for it.”

Lucy’s reply tapered off as she eyed up the closed door they were distancing themselves from. Lockwood was on the other side of it—and now, with a lack of audience, Haine was likely to throw all shame out of the window. Lucy shook away the mental image of her idiotically cuddling up to him. Lockwood had self-respect and at least a shred of common sense, she reminded herself. He would keep turning down her advances despite being alone, surely?

“Luce?”

She blinked and turned to George, only to find they were no longer walking. “What?”

“You trailed off and stopped. Everything okay?”

She looked back to the door again, for what she told herself would be the last time.

“Ooh, she’s really gotten under your skin, hasn’t she? Tell you what, how about we get some recordings of this…” he pushed open the door beside him and it opened with a menacing creak, “lovely little bathroom—god, it looks like it’s never been used—and then we can crack open the biscuits?”

Biscuits were a good solution to (or rather, distraction from) many problems. Not that Lucy had any in that particular moment—Lockwood could fend for himself, Haine’s pursuit of him was not her concern—but she wasn’t going to turn down an opportunity to dig into the digestives.

The bathroom wasn’t far from the size of Lucy’s bedroom at 35 Portland Row, and George hadn’t been kidding when he first peered inside: it was squeaky clean. When Mr Albrecht, their filthy-rich client and owner of the property, had given them one last briefing before hightailing it out of the place, Lucy recalled he had mentioned something about eight bathrooms. At the time she’d brushed it off in favour of focusing on the important info—i.e., the Visitor that was disturbing his family and targeting staff—but as she swept her gaze across the pristine porcelain and sparkling tiles, it came back to her with clarity. Eight bathrooms between its three non-staff occupants… no wonder this one looked as if it had been pulled straight from a catalogue.

“I’d bet good money we’re the only human contact this room’s seen, besides the installers,” George sniffed, pulling out his notepad. “I’d bet those digestives that nothing’s here, but we ought to take readings anyway.”

They went through the motions. Lucy checked temperatures (nothing out of the ordinary, as suspected) and Listened for disturbances (the pipes were a bit squeaky, but that didn’t count as a psychical threat), while George jotted everything down. Once they were done, they wasted no time in retrieving the biscuits and thermoses from the depths of their bags.

For the first time that evening, Lucy took the skull jar out. It sat between them in their small iron circle (made more out of habit than necessity) and immediately began pulling faces at George. It had formed an annoying habit of waffling while clients spoke and shouting random numbers as she took readings, so for the sake of her own sanity she’d kept the jar shut tight.

Up until now.

“I reckon if you bludgeon that soppy little fool you could hide her body in this bathtub and it’d be years before anyone found her.”

George looked at Lucy expectantly.

“It doesn’t like Miss Haine,” she translated. George simply nodded and dunked a biscuit in his tea.

“That was some shocking paraphrasing, Lucy. I never said I didn’t like the girl—I said I’d be completely at peace if you caved her skull in and made the body disappear. Two very different things, I tell you.”

Lucy decided that didn’t warrant a reply. “What do you think about the case, George?”

His face lit up at the chance to delve into it again; it was so charmingly George that Lucy felt a sudden surge of fondness for him. “The staff’s reports of a detailed apparition makes a Spectre quite likely. One mentioned it looked like a young man, so I researched deaths on the property while at the archives—and sure enough, a few poor sods have met their end here. An ancestor of Albrecht’s from the 19th century got shot just outside, a lad who used to work here not long ago slipped down the main staircase, and a burglar recently got caught in the act and had a heart attack when the police apprehended him. What a way to go, eh?”

“Would any of them have a reason to return, though?”

George shrugged noncommittally. “In one way or another. The ancestor’s death stopped the ownership of the property transferring to him, the ex-staff might’ve been unhappy with how he was treated here, and the burglar… well, if I died in those circumstances, I’d be pretty miffed. I’d come back to haunt the place as a distraction from that embarrassment.”

“Your whole life’s an embarrassment.”

This time, it was Lucy’s turn to splutter mid-sip.

“What? What did it say?”

She shook her head. “Nothing important.”

George narrowed his eyes, but soon let it go. “Another biscuit?”

“Go on, then.” Lucy reached for the proffered sleeve but froze when an ear-splitting shriek echoed down the hall. She shoved the skull jar in her bag and discarded the tea and biscuits in favour of bolting in the direction of the scream, with George not far behind.

Lucy threw open the door, rapier in hand.

The skull, half-sticking out of her bag, peered over her shoulder and cackled. It let out a comment so crude Lucy would have winced if she weren’t so distracted by the way Haine had her arms wrapped around Lockwood.

George panted heavily beside Lucy. “What happened?”

Haine held on for a moment longer, then had the gall to look sheepish as she slowly pulled away. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mr Lockwood! I could’ve sworn I saw something move out of the corner of my eye, and oh, it looked awful, and I knew I could count on you to protect me from it.”

“Pah! What a trollop.”

Lucy, rapier still raised, looked to Lockwood. His face was pointedly blank as he considered the blushing girl beside him. In the blink of an eye, one of his trademark smiles appeared—to Lucy’s relief, it wasn’t one of the charming or flirting variety, but instead one of careful politeness.

“I’m glad you feel you can put your trust in us,” he said, “but I can assure you there’s certainly no psychic activity in this room, according to the readings we got. Not a single death glow, either. There’s a slight draught in here—perhaps the movement you saw was the curtains.”

“The atmosphere seems to be taking a toll on you, Miss,” Lucy said. Her knuckles ached from her grip tightening around her rapier hilt. “We should get you set up to stay somewhere else for the night, so we can work without you getting in the—er, without you being at risk.”

“Nice catch, really smooth. Though personally, if I cared enough about dear old Locky, I would’ve just told the bint to sod off.”

Haine eyed Lucy with disdain. “What on earth is that thing sticking out of your bag?”

“Nothing,” Lucy said, shoving the jar further in and out of sight. She hadn’t the time to flick the lever in the same motion, so the skull’s cries and colourful insults were still audible. She prided herself on her ability to keep a poker face as it described, at length, where exactly Miss Haine should shove it.

Lockwood swiftly moved the conversation on. “Good idea, Luce. Mr Albrecht mentioned he usually has a team of night staff—where are they tonight, Miss Haine?"

“Most stayed home. The few who didn't get the memo in time and showed up anyway were sent to a nearby hotel for the night... But it’s so late now, they wouldn’t possibly take me in.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Why didn’t you join them?”

“Ah, well, when he informed them all of the arrangements, I was preoccupied.”

“With what?”

“I was—er, ah… I was polishing. The bathrooms. You saw how clean they were, yes?”

George peered at her over his glasses. “We assumed it was because no one used them.”

“Oh no, they do. And I clean them—a lot! So I missed Mr Albrecht’s instructions. And then I stumbled upon you three!”

“Four.”

Lucy frowned. “If she gets hurt, Lockwood… We’ll be liable.”

“Yes, that is true,” Lockwood said, his smile now laced with a hint of uncertainty. “Time’s ticking, though, and we need to get a move on. Since we’ve deemed this room safe, we can keep her in here. The two of you can help me quickly fortify the room, and then we can resume work. Is that alright with you, Miss Haine?”

Lucy had never seen her expression look so sour. Her short reply of “Yes” was not convincing at all, but the trio got to work laying out protection for her nonetheless.

“All sorted,” Lockwood said, clapping his hands together. “You shouldn’t be disturbed in here, but just to be safe, don’t leave this circle. If you need anything at all, give us a shout.”

“There’s some tea in that thermos,” George added, “and I’ve generously donated a few biscuits. That’ll keep you going til dawn, I reckon.”

“Thank you,” Haine said stiffly.

Lucy plastered a smile onto her face, though she couldn’t manage the same amount of fake politeness as Lockwood. “You’re welcome.”

Without the hindrance of a fourth unqualified person, Lockwood & Co.’s efficiency skyrocketed. Lucy lost count of how many rooms they took readings in. The place was eerily labyrinthian, and she was grateful that George had the mind to print out a map beforehand.

The evening grew darker, and after locating the area with the most psychical red flags—the staff quarters, a small series of rooms in the basement—set up their own iron circle in preparation for any oncoming manifestations.

After filling Lockwood in on his suspicions, George sat cross-legged and leaned back on his hands. “I’m surprised we haven’t heard a peep out of Haine yet.”

“I thought she’d be calling out for her knight in shining armour in minutes,” Lucy said, an amused smirk creeping onto her face.

Lockwood raised an eyebrow. “I’m assuming you’re referring to me?”

“‘Course I am. She was all over you.”

“I wouldn’t say that… ” He averted his gaze. “But she did seem rather fond of me.”

“God knows why. I’d rather neck a street rat than look Lockwood in the eye.”

Lockwood frowned as he watched the skull’s ghostly mouth move. “What is it saying?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Should we let Albrecht know one of his staff’s gone rogue?” George said, straightening to stretch his back with an odd groan.

Lucy wasn’t sure why every fibre of her being was advocating for the girl’s downfall. After a moment’s consideration, she chalked it up to being ‘hangry’—as Bobby Vernon once used to describe George in a heated conversation—and grabbed another biscuit.

“Legally, it would be the right thing to do,” Lockwood mused. “But I’d hate to be the reason the poor girl loses her job. If she keeps shtum for the rest of the night, I’m happy to let it go. Is that fair?”

George shrugged. Lucy made a noise of vague discontent. The skull voiced its own unpleasant opinion.

“Great,” Lockwood said with a grin. “It’s settled.” He popped a piece of gum in his mouth and checked his watch. “Miasma’s setting in. We ought to be seeing activity soon… Have you heard anything yet, Luce?”

As a matter of fact, she had—the skull’s voice notwithstanding. “The occasional word. I can’t make out what it's saying, but it’s definitely a young man’s voice. It’s steadily increasing in volume and frequency.”

“Good, we’re on the right track. George is probably spot on with the Spectre assumption. And considering where we are, it’s likely to be the lad who used to work here.” He eyed up the room around them, and Lucy followed suit. 

Presumably, this was where Albrecht’s staff spent their breaks, away from the demands of the filthy-rich family. They were in the ‘lobby’, so to speak, of the staff area. It was a small room with sparse seating, various mops and brooms propped against the far wall, and an old radio next to some stale refreshments. Branching off from the main room was a restroom and a dingy bedroom containing the flattest mattress she’d ever laid eyes on. It was so far from the life of luxury the Albrechts lived it almost felt like a different building entirely. It meant George was probably correct about yet another thing—the deceased staff member might have returned seeking revenge against his stingy employer.

Lockwood’s narrowed eyes suggested he was having the same train of thought. “What I am wondering, however, is why now? You said he died a year or so ago, George, but Mr Albrecht said his staff only started complaining in the past few months.”

“Can’t say for sure. Maybe someone disturbed his Source while working?”

The skull let out a cackle. Lucy’s gaze snapped to it. “Do you know something?”

“Maybe I do.”

Lucy raised her eyebrows. “And?”

“Maybe I don’t.”

“There’s no need to be difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult, it’s just” —it let out an elated cry—“this is hilarious. You’re so close to the truth! I’d bet good money you can’t get it through your thick skull, though.”

“What?” She frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lockwood leaned forward. “What’s it saying, Luce?”

“It knows something. Said we’re close to the truth, but doesn’t have faith we’ll work it out.”

“No no, I said you. Cubbins’ll be on it in no time, I reckon. He isn’t riddled with the same distractions as you are.”

She carefully repeated its words, and George’s face lit up. “Oh, now I really want to know what it’s going on about.”

“Are you talking to a jar?” An annoyingly familiar voice said from the entrance.

Three heads whipped around in surprise, one haunted skull cackled gleefully, and one Spectre manifested in the middle of the room.

Haine screamed as Lockwood leapt forward, rapier slicing through the Visitor within seconds of its appearance.

Lucy and George scrambled to their feet. With the skull as a distraction, Lucy hadn’t noticed the disembodied voice becoming more prominent, but now it had her full attention. The pressure in her head made her wince and let out a hiss of pain. George gently placed a hand on her shoulder, thumb rubbing soothing circles in a silent moment of understanding.

Lockwood hauled Haine into the iron circle. “What—and I say this out of concern for your safety—the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, Miss Haine? We asked you to stay inside the circle. You could’ve been killed!”

Haine was deathly pale, and it took far longer than expected for her to voice a reply. “I… I know him.”

“You recognised the Visitor?” George said. The skull continued to laugh.

She nodded shakily. “His name is Adam. He works—worked here. We… had a thing, so to speak. He was lovely. But one day he… he—oh, god, he—”

“Slipped and fell down that huge staircase in the foyer?”

Haine let out a choked sob.

The voice had quietened; Lucy was able to think clearly again. “You said you ‘had a thing’?”

“His return could have something to do with that,” George said.

Lockwood nodded. “It’s likely. Now, Miss Haine, I beg you to stay inside these chains. We’re dealing with a dangerous Type Two that has personal ties to you. He may target you. Please let us work unhindered.”

“Or, if you do get in the way, at least make your death entertaining.”

“Unfaithful…”

Lucy tried to discreetly whisper to the jar she’d left on the floor. “What?”

“I said, if she does get in the way—”

“No, no, not that. The other thing.”

“That wasn’t me, Lucy. All this time being your partner in crime and you can’t even recognise my voice?” It scoffed. “Those biscuits have a higher IQ than you.”

“Mine…”

The words were a welcome distraction from the way Haine clung onto Lockwood’s sleeve. “I can hear him. I can make out the words.”

“What is he saying?”

“Unfaithful. Mine.” She paused, and then, “Cheat.”

Haine tightened her grip. “Adam said those things?”

“Oh,” George said. “Oh.”

“What did I say, Lucy? I bloody knew he’d catch on first! Oh, I’m a genius. I deserve some kind of award.”

“What?” Lockwood said, somewhat impatient.

“Miss Haine,” George said slowly, “are you naturally flirtatious?”

The sudden change of topic startled her. “Well, I wouldn’t say that… But if a man’s good-looking, I’m not going to ignore it.” She glanced at Lockwood for a split second. “Take Richie, for example—he started here earlier this year, and I know we’re colleagues, but you only live once. I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to—”

“When did he start working here?”

“Er… A few months ago, I think?” Her irritation was visible as she spoke to George; it was a stark contrast to how she behaved with Lockwood. “How is this relevant?”

“There we go,” George said with satisfaction. “Adam still has feelings for you, and isn’t particularly pleased to see you moving on.”

Haine let out a small, dumb, “Oh.”

Lockwood whistled, long and slow. “Visitors with romantically oriented returns tend to be the most aggressive. Stay on your guard, everyone. And once again, Miss Haine, do not—”

He didn’t finish his sentence, though everyone surely knew what he planned to say. They were all too distracted by the Spectre’s return to dwell on it, however.

He stood—or rather, floated a few centimetres off the ground—near the iron circle, and now Lucy could get a closer look at him. He was faded and blurry around the edges, but she could still make out the inner details. He wore a similar getup to Haine, with the dark trousers and a slightly wrinkled white button-up. His attire, combined with his red hair and thin face, made him look alarmingly like a fusion of Lockwood and Kipps. What caught Lucy’s attention the most, however, was the ugly bruising circling his neck. It was a grim reminder of how he met his untimely death.

He was so young. He couldn’t have been much older than Lockwood or George. Emotions were distracting; Lucy let out a shaky sigh and tried to let it wash over her. Meanwhile Haine, untrained and vulnerable, broke out into a fit of sobs.

“How are we dealing with this, Lockwood?” George said, ready to leap into action with his rapier in hand.

“Miss Haine, I’m sorry to ask this when you’re feeling so delicate, but we need to locate Adam’s Source. Do you have any idea as to what it could be?”

Haine sniffed and ungracefully dragged a sleeve across her damp face. “No. I haven’t got a clue, I…”

Lucy felt a pang of sympathy. It was almost enough to make her forget what had irked her about the girl earlier. “It could be anything with sentimental value to him, or something involved in his… passing.”

The skull scoffed. “Don’t start going soft on her now.”

Haine turned away from the Spectre and curled further in on herself. “He wasn’t a materialistic person. Never let me get him gifts. But—oh. Oh! He was working when he fell, he…” Her eyes swept the room and stopped when they found the mops. “He was using one of those! Oh god, you don’t think…?”

Lockwood nodded solemnly. “It could be one of them, yes.”

Adam’s voice was still audible in Lucy’s mind. “He’ll pounce the second we step foot out of these chains.”

Haine moved closer to Lockwood. In the blink of an eye she was leaning into him, one hand resting gently on his arm. “I’m so scared. What if he—”

A cry ripped from Adam’s throat as he rushed forward.

Lucy flinched and stumbled backwards. She crashed into Lockwood, who caught her and set her upright. “Miss Haine, try to keep your hands off our boss. Your late ex isn’t very fond of him.”

“He sees Lockwood as competition? By far the worst case of insecurity I’ve ever seen.”

“He sees Lockwood as competition,” Lucy murmured, then repeated it louder as it dawned on her. “Lockwood’s riling him up. If we can get Adam to disregard him, he might calm down long enough for us to reach his Source.”

“Good thinking, Luce,” George said.

Lockwood took a careful, wide sidestep away from Haine. “How are we pulling that off?”

“You’re a real threat to him if you’re single,” Haine said. “You are single, aren’t you?”

Lucy’s head pounded as Adam’s voice boomed.

“Er,” Lockwood said eloquently.

“Not any more,” George declared, before pushing Lucy and Lockwood together. They collided and instinctively grabbed onto one another to avoid tumbling out of the chains.

As Lockwood looked down at Lucy, George’s intent dawned on her. She adjusted herself so one hand wrapped around Lockwood’s torso, and leant into him like she’d seen Haine doing all evening. Slowly, Lockwood’s hand reached up behind her and rested at the nape of her neck, toying with the hairs there like it was second nature. Lucy’s stomach did strange flips while the skull feigned retching and loudly voiced its complaints.

Haine made an odd noise. George smiled like the cat that got the cream and turned to face Adam triumphantly—only to find he was no longer there.

“Give it a minute,” he said. “Miss Haine, try coming onto Lockwood again.”

“You can’t force those kinds of things,” Haine insisted.

“Try it anyway.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mr Lockwood, you’re looking rather dashing in that waistcoat.”

“Blind as a bat, she must be.”

Lucy turned her head to look at the waistcoat in question and was met by a familiar smell she’d come to associate with the feeling of home; for a brief second, she almost forgot she was out on a case.

The waistcoat did look nice, albeit a bit snug.

“Oh, I’d gouge my eyes out if I had any.”

George was tense in anticipation, but relaxed after a few moments of nothing. “I dare say I think it worked. Adam seems happy that Lockwood can’t possibly be interested in Miss Haine if he’s preoccupied with Luce.”

“‘Preoccupied’ is an odd way of putting it,” Lockwood said. His thin fingers continued to drift along the back of Lucy’s neck, and it was a whole world of distraction. She struggled to think straight and subconsciously tightened her grip on Lockwood’s waist. If he noticed she’d brought him closer, he didn’t let on.

“Stay there,” George said, holding his hands up as if they were jittery animals. “I’ll have a look at the mops.”

“It would be pure comedy gold if Cubbins kicks the bucket while you’re busy fondling each other. God, Lucy, you’re only supposed to be acting. Dial it back a bit, you desperate ninny.”

Lucy watched with bated breath as George cautiously stepped over the chains. He held his rapier aloft in anticipation and in a few large steps reached the far wall where the mops stood. Keeping his back to the wall, George stayed alert as he passed a hand over each mop. He violently flinched upon making contact with the last; it teetered and fell to the floor with a loud clatter.

“Got it. It’s freezing cold.”

Lucy held tightly onto Lockwood. His hand had steadied on her shoulder; the weight kept her grounded as she Listened for oncoming danger. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Haine alternating between giving her strange looks and watching George.

The skull faked a yawn. “Just get on with it already.”

The sound of its voice mingled with Adam’s whispers—he was still present, still watching, and had taken notice of George’s movements.

“Hurry, George,” Lucy murmured. Her hand came to rest on a salt bomb in her belt.

From the depths of his duffel, George had to retrieve one of their largest silver nets. It came out snarled and scrunched, and for an excruciatingly long moment, he stood there untangling it.

“God, this is painful,” Haine said. She watched for a second longer before huffing and stepping out of the chains towards him. “Here, let me—”

“CHEAT!” roared Adam; he materialised mere feet away and wasted no time in rushing towards Haine with outstretched arms.

Lucy and Lockwood moved synchronously. Together they leapt, Lockwood brandishing his rapier and Lucy taking aim with a salt bomb, and landed in the space between Haine and her enraged lover. Lockwood’s blade swung and the bomb soared from Lucy’s hand; both hit Adam with a vicious hiss of ectoplasm and a ghostly howl.

Not a moment later, George unceremoniously dropped the silver net on the mop.

Lucy’s ears popped and her jaw ached as the effects of the Visitor’s presence lifted. She didn’t mean to lean into Lockwood as her shoulders slumped, but neither of them moved away, and at some point his hand had returned to her shoulder.

“That was possibly the most boring outcome,” the skull lamented. “I was hoping to at least see Lover Girl croak. Not you, Lucy, the other one.”

“That was simple enough,” George said, nudging the sides of the net inwards.

Lockwood grinned. “Good work, you two. And as for you, Miss Haine”—his smile faded as he turned to her—“we’ll have to inform Mr Albrecht about what went down here, which means telling him you, er…”

“Went rogue,” Lucy supplied.

“Rogue, yes.”

Haine’s gaze was unflinching. “Perhaps I should tell him the true nature of your company, then.”

He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“Being involved with your employee isn’t a good look, Mr Lockwood,” she said, with a hint of smugness.

Lockwood scoffed and exchanged glances with Lucy and George. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Are you kidding?” She nodded to him and Lucy, who suddenly became minutely aware of how much of Lockwood’s body was pressed against hers. The warmth of his hand seeped through the layers of her clothes. “It’s obvious that relationship distraction wasn’t an act at all. Tell Albrecht I was here and I’ll tell him what you two really got up to in his bathrooms tonight.”

“Oh. I’m starting to warm up to her, actually.”

*****

As they waited for a taxi outside Albrecht’s manor, Lockwood shivered and turned up his collar. “I can’t believe she blackmailed us with a complete lie.”

“It was either that, or find yourself on the front page of tomorrow’s Times,” George said.

“Lovebird agents shag in millionaire client’s bathtub,” the skull chuckled. “What a headline.”

“We should have found another way around it,” Lucy said indignantly. “Albrecht deserves to know the truth of what happened tonight, whether Haine threatens us or not. Besides—who’s to say he’d even believe her, anyway? She’s only one of… many staff.”

“We can think of something after a good night’s rest.” George yawned. “All the stairs in that place tired me out.”

He fell asleep in the taxi, notebook open in his lap and pen still poised to continue writing his notes. Lucy carefully placed them back in his bag, then caught Lockwood watching her from the passenger seat. His smile was small but tender. It was the one he usually reserved just for Lucy, the one that never failed to make her heart flutter.

“I need to talk to you before you turn in for the night,” he said. He looked at George, then back to her. “Privately, if you don’t mind.”

She suddenly felt as tense as she had been in the iron circle. “‘Course. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, everything’s fine. Nothing to worry about.” He flashed her one of his bigger smiles, then turned back around to face the roads swathed in the light of the ghost-lamps.

Despite Lockwood’s reassurance, it still niggled at the back of Lucy’s mind the rest of the way home. She gently shook George awake as they pulled up outside 35 Portland Row and bid him goodnight before he began to trudge upstairs.

After dropping the skull jar off in her room, she found Lockwood in the kitchen turning the kettle on. He set out two mugs and turned to lean his back against the counter. When his eyes met hers, he smiled. “Luce,” he said, quietly. “Tea?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Her feet ached from the long night; she hopped up to sit on the counter near him. “What did you want to talk about?”

For a moment his brows furrowed, his gaze drifted to the side, and he seemed as if he were trying to recall something—as if he’d planned out exactly what to say, and was now struggling to find it again. Lucy restlessly shuffled her weight around, trying to make herself comfortable on the cool granite.

Lockwood took a breath. “What Haine said… it bothered me.”

“Well, yeah. She blackmailed us with an outright fib—she’s a nasty piece of work.”

“No—I mean, yes, that was awful, but that’s not what I’m talking about right now. She said it was obvious that us being together ‘wasn’t an act at all’, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said slowly. “But it clearly was. She’s probably as thick as she is manipulative.”

Lockwood’s gaze flicked up to the ceiling; a subtle wince passed across his face before he spoke. “Was it?”

“What?”

He looked back to her, face utterly sincere. “An act.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure I know what you’re getting at, Lockwood.”

Lockwood’s mouth opened and for a second, he appeared on the verge of saying something uninhibited. The kettle clicked, snapping him out of it, and he got to work putting their drinks together. “It was unprofessional. A complete lapse in judgement. I wanted to apologise to you, Lucy, in case it made you uncomfortable.”

“Er… Well, it’s not like there was an alternative. And George was the one who orchestrated it, anyway.”

“That can’t have been our only option,” he insisted. “I shouldn’t have gone along with it. I should have looked for another way for us to deal with the situation.”

“Lockwood, it’s fine. It was fine.” She leaned to the side, putting herself in his line of sight. “You’re fine.”

“Am I?” His usual smile and bravado were gone, leaving nothing but worry etched into his features. “I’m concerned I’m blurring the lines too much in my relationship to you. Yes, I’m your friend, but I’m also your employer. I forget how much power I technically hold over you.” He let the spoon clatter into one of the mugs. “Accidentally using it against you would be my worst nightmare.”

“You haven’t. And even if you did— though you wouldn’t—we both know I wouldn’t let that slide. If you think I can’t stand up for myself and give you a good kick to the backside if you need it, you’re sorely wrong, Lockwood.”

“No, I know. You’re good like that. I just…” He sighed. “I hate how quickly Miss Haine got the wrong impression of us. We were just doing our job—in a slightly unconventional way, yes, but it was for the sake of the case—and she so easily twisted it into something else. What if she thought I was manipulating you, in some way? What if I was, and neither of us realised?”

“Lockwood, you’re being a bit silly.” She took one of the mugs in both hands and soaked up its warmth. “It’s late, you’re tired, and you’re overthinking it.”

He leaned against the counter and stared into his own mug. “You’re probably right.”

“Besides”—she took a sip, winced at how it scalded her tongue, and surprised herself with the words that fell from her mouth—“I never said it made me uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Stop jumping to conclusions.”

Lockwood’s body stilled, and his gaze flicked to her. “What do you mean?”

She sucked her teeth and decided to throw all caution to the wind. “When George contained the Source, I could’ve let go. I had more than enough space to back away from you. Did I?”

“…No?”

“I held on. I leant into you.”

“You were weary.”

“I enjoyed it,” she said. It was an admission to both Lockwood and herself; part of her wanted to curl up and hide as it dawned on her that she had thoroughly loved being so close to him, and that Haine hadn’t just been annoying, she’d been… competition?

Something clicked, and suddenly Lucy understood Adam.

“You enjoyed it,” Lockwood repeated quietly.

“And hypothetically, if we had to do something like that again, it’d be fine. I’d be fine.”

“On the job, of course.”

The corner of her lip twitched upward. “Of course.”

“And hypothetically,” he spoke slowly, edging away from the counter and closer to her, “if something like that were to happen outside a working environment, how would you feel?”

Her words came out close to a whisper as anticipation flushed her cheeks. “Why don’t you find out?”

“Oh.” Lockwood stopped in front of where she perched on the counter. They were almost at eye level. He held her gaze for a moment before faltering, then spoke with uncertainty: “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never—should we—”

“Me neither,” Lucy said, then pulled him in by the waist to kiss him. He stiffened for a second before melting into her touch; she parted her knees for him to move closer.

Lucy’s grasp softened at Lockwood’s sides when he reached up to cup her face. A small noise escaped her before she leant further into the kiss.

Time seemed to warp—though their lips parted after a few moments, it felt as if a whole hour had passed while they were engrossed in each other. They pressed their foreheads together as their quiet gasps for air filled the otherwise silent kitchen.

Someone cleared their throat by the door.

Lucy and Lockwood’s heads clacked together as they startled, warranting identical hisses of pain as they jerked their heads in the direction of the noise.

George leant against the door frame, clothes rumpled and hair unruly—it was clear he’d fallen straight into bed after coming home.

“Got peckish,” he said, adjusting his crooked glasses. “I see you’ve sorted things out. Took you long enough.”

Lockwood was the first to snap out of the shock. “What?”

“Kipps reckoned it would take another few months, at least,” he said, rummaging through the cupboards. “I had more faith than that.” He poured himself a bowl of cornflakes and drifted back out into the hall. “Goodnight!”

“Goodnight,” they both replied, though it came out sounding like a question.

Lockwood caught her eye, and they fell into a fit of laughter. Her head fell onto his shaking shoulder; the rush of giddiness had her feeling wide awake.

For a brief moment, she was not an agent in a Visitor-infested world, she didn’t have to frequently put her life on the line for work, and she hadn’t lost her best friend because of a system that let her down. Instead, she was a normal teenage girl getting flustered over a teenage boy, giggling into the warm fabric of his shirt and hoping he didn’t notice how red her cheeks had become.

Lockwood brushed her hair away with a gentle swipe of his fingers, then pressed a kiss to her temple. “We really are fantastic actors.”

Lucy burst into laughter all over again.

*****

end note: right before posting this I realised I gave Haine almost the exact same name as Metric’s lead singer?? I swear that wasn’t on purpose lol I love u Emily Haines

[rachelsfav-queer]

How would mommy Enid and daddy Yoko handle Wednesday getting overstimulated and having a complete meltdown? Poor thing is totally inconsolable :'(

Whew. Okay, this one is obviously very important to me, as I’ve said in a previous post. But, I didn’t really explain why so, let me do that now. Btw, this whole thing is gonna be a long one, so either strap in or hop out.

So, first off, I’m reading this ask as if Wednesday is autistic, along with the typical headcanon of her being a little that’s been present lately for VampRavenWolf. So, I’ll be basing it on my experience with autistic meltdowns, which for the most part has been extremely traumatic. I won’t get into any specific details about my experience for privacy reasons and I also don’t want to trigger myself by forcing myself to remember it all.

As for my story, there was a point in my life where I was in an extremely toxic environment that almost constantly produced meltdowns for me. Now, meltdowns are already a very traumatic experience for autistic people, but it was made 10x worse for me by the fact that I was surrounded by people who were only aiming to make it worse for me, hoping that I would eventually self-destruct, in whatever way that meant. They genuinely didn’t care how it happened, just as long as they could get rid of me. That is my story, it’s a very shortened and simplified version of it, with a whole lot of missing context, but it’s my story nonetheless.

I want to say that I still appreciate this ask. Because it gives me an opportunity to share my experience in hopes that by doing so, I can help at least someone. Let them know that they’re not alone like I thought I was for most of my life. That is how I heal the trauma that was dealt to me.

So, with that out of the way, let’s get to the actual ask!

TRIGGER WARNING: Descriptions of sensory overload and meltdown as experienced by an autistic character, light descriptions of self-harm in the form of harmful stimming, and descriptions of panic attacks. All below the cut.

So, for this scenario, I’m gonna set it in VampRavenWolf’s home. It’s already gonna be hard for our poor little raven, I don’t want to subject her to dealing with it in public. Secondly, we’re gonna say that something happens with one of the smoke detectors, some sort of malfunction that causes it to go off for no reason. This will be what causes everything to go down. Alright, this is everyone’s last chance, if anything in the warning above is triggering to you, PLEASE leave now and do not read. Remember, you are not forced to read this if any of the trigger warnings make you uncomfortable. Please, take care of yourselves.

Alright, we all good? Great.

The day already wasn’t going great. Wednesday had just gotten home from school half an hour ago, and her classmates all day had apparently made it their mission to annoy her. Not even Bianca was able to ward off everyone all day, considering she only shared half of her classes with the raven. And of course, both her girlfriends were either out dealing with work or handling family issues, of which they’d only gotten home from a few minutes before Wednesday did, only to have to retreat to their respective offices to finish even more work.

Spending so much time away from her Mommy and Daddy was always the most exhausting thing in the world for Wednesday and although she understood that they couldn’t just spend every second of every day right by her side, the fact still upset her greatly.

At the moment, Wednesday is sitting in the living room, watching TV with Raven on her lap, though she’s not paying very close attention (Raven isn’t either). The absence of her Mommy and Daddy weighs heavy on her mind, only made worse by the day she’s had. Wednesday’s just about to get up to find her Mommy in hopes that she’ll give her the attention that she so desperately needs when suddenly, the smoke alarm in the kitchen goes off. The loud, piercing noise sends Wednesday falling off the couch as her hands fly up to cover her ears. It takes a few seconds for her mind to catch up with her body, but when it does, Wednesday begins crying violently, coughing wildly and her breathing quickly becomes unsteady, short and with no rhythm.

Meanwhile, Enid and Yoko are alerted immediately by the noise and rush out to check everything out. Seeing no signs of a fire, they determine the alarm is just malfunctioning and pull it off the wall, taking out the batteries and silencing the screaming noise. Once the alarm is off, though, the quiet exposes the sound of their baby sobbing in the living room and once again the women are rushing to the sound. Their hearts break at the sight of Wednesday curled up on the floor with her hands clutching her head tightly. Enid walks forward first, lowering herself as slowly as possible, and speaks gently, “Hey, little raven. It’s Mommy. Can I come closer?”

The muffled sound of her Mommy’s voice catches the raven’s attention and she gravitates towards it, opening her eyes slightly and choking out, “L- loud, Mommy! Too loud!” Still overwhelmed by the stimulation, Wednesday’s brain is in desperate need of regulation and so instinctually her fists begin slamming into the sides of her head over and over and over and over and-

Thinking quickly, Enid gently pulls the seer's arms by her wrists and wraps them around her torso, allowing the girl to pound her fists into the wolf’s back, “Okay, okay baby. That’s it, let it out on Mommy. She can take it, you’re okay.” Enid continues to mutter reassurances over and over again while Yoko leaves for a moment to grab Wednesday’s noise-canceling headphones, returning the moment she finds them and carefully sets them on the raven’s ears.

Meanwhile, Wednesday’s sobbing only gets worse, her breathing getting shallower and her body getting weaker. Yoko and Enid are starting to get seriously worried, they look at each other with fear in their eyes and Yoko asks weakly, “What do we do?”

Enid looks back down at the girl in her arms, desperately trying to think of anything to bring their girlfriend out of this meltdown safely. Suddenly, she gets an idea. “We need to help her regulate herself. Here,” Enid breathes, offering the girl to Yoko, “Hold her, she prefers cold. I’ll go turn down the A/C and grab her weighted blanket. I’ll be right back.” While Enid does that, Yoko gets an idea of her own. She first shuffles back to lean against the couch, then, staying careful not to jostle the raven, Yoko does her best to unbutton as much of her shirt as she can and lays Wednesday’s head onto her exposed chest. Almost immediately, Wednesday’s breathing begins to slow, as do her tears. Yoko continues to whisper gentle words of praise and reassurance until Enid gets back. The werewolf covers the two with the black blanket and gets yet another idea. Stepping away from her girlfriends, Enid transforms into her wolf form and then lays her head gently against the seer’s back.

And with the combined weight of the blanket and the werewolf plus the chill of the vampire and the A/C blowing down on them all, Wednesday slowly starts coming back to herself. Eventually, her breathing is even again, and a few sniffles here and there are the only signs that she’d been crying. Petting her hair, Yoko speaks, “Hey there, baby bird. You back with us?”

Wednesday nods slowly, “Yes Daddy. Feel better.”

At the sound of her baby’s voice, Enid lifts her head and gently nudges Wednesday’s cheek with her snout, chuffing softly which makes the goth smile tiredly. Which in turn pleases her Mommy and Daddy, knowing their girl really was back with them.

“Get some sleep, baby bird. We’ll be right here for you. We have you always.”

End <3

[cophene]

04 || * • ° catching hints of gold

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

pairing : ohshc x gn reader summary : perhaps no one at ouran is more qualified to deal with a broken heart than the host club. with a student’s heartbreak painfully obvious to everyone but themself, the host club takes it upon themselves to remedy that. all against that student’s better judgement. notes : multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 2.5k+

While students began trickling inside the music room to meet with the other hosts, Haruhi found the two of you a table away from the rest of the Host Club’s hubbub to talk. You were grateful for their consideration and told them as much while they expertly poured out two cups of fragrant tea.

“Of course. I can tell you’re not keen on everyone knowing your business.”

You smiled. Then, because you had been wondering about it since yesterday, you asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, what are your pronouns?”

Haruhi blinked. “Oh, feminine pronouns are fine, although I don't really mind either way. I’ve gotten so used to moonlighting as a boy that sometimes it doesn’t even occur to me.”

“I have to know how that happened,” you said. “How did someone like you get lumped into a club like this? I mean, you’re so—so—”

“Normal?” Haruhi said blandly.

“I was going to say down-to-earth, but yeah, that too.”

Haruhi took a sip from her teacup. She had a natural grace to her movements that she didn’t seem to be aware of. “It’s a long story. But the short of it is that I accidentally broke a vase and had to become a host to pay off the debt.”

“Must have been some vase.”

Haruhi closed her eyes as though it pained her to remember it. “Eight million yen,” she said through gritted teeth.

You sucked in a breath. “That’s obscene.”

“You’re telling me.” Haruhi crossed one leg over the other. “But we’re here to talk about you. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”

“You mean besides what’s on the file?”

“I never look at those,” Haruhi said dismissively. “They’re an invasion of privacy, and they’re creepy. You’re a person. Not a test subject.”

“I’m so glad I’m spending time with you. You make me feel like my fears are actually warranted.”

“The Host Club means well, but that doesn’t mean they always do well. If you spend more time with them, you’ll find out that they get just as many things wrong as they do right.”

You didn’t miss the note of fondness in Haruhi’s tone. Despite how at odds her sensible nature seemed with the Host Club, she liked the club. Liked the hosts. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

“Alright, I’ll bite. What do you want to know?”

“What’s your family like? If you’re like everyone else at Ouran, you must come from money.”

“My parents are art investors,” you said. “They like to sponsor local talent and act as patrons for artists they like. They’re also interested in purchasing and restoring antique pieces. Don’t—” you added, seeing the look on Haruhi’s face, “—ask me about art stuff. I don’t know anything about it.”

“No? You’re not in the business?”

You shrugged. “I know what looks pretty and what doesn’t. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s all I need to know.”

“Fair enough. Fair enough.” Haruhi began to ask another question, but she trailed off, looking at something over your shoulder. Feeling self-conscious, you turned around to see what she was looking at. Immediately, Hikaru and Kaoru whipped around in their seats, returning to the conversations they’d been having too quickly for it to be natural.

“Am I going to have to worry about those two?” you said.

“Probably.”

You narrowed your eyes in the twins’ direction. You scooted a little closer to Haruhi in an attempt to keep the conversation between the two of you.

“So what about you? Do you come from money?”

“No, actually. I’m here on scholarship.”

Your eyes widened. “No kidding? You must be a bona fide genius. Ouran has ridiculously high standards for scholarship students.”

“It’s not too bad. I’m used to working for what I want. If you put in the time and effort, the course work isn’t all that bad.”

You found Haruhi’s humility refreshing. It seemed like everyone at Ouran was bragging about one thing or other nowadays. You probably wouldn’t have shut up about how smart you were if you had managed to get into Ouran on scholarship.

“So is this all there is to the Host Club?” You leaned back in your seat. “You get tea and biscuits. You talk. You look pretty?”

“If only. You’ve only been exposed to a small fraction of what this club is capable of.” With the way Haruhi said it, it didn’t seem like a good thing.

As if on cue, a great gasp went up in the middle of the room. A gaggle of girls had clustered around Hikaru and Kaoru, one of the twins sprawled on the ground while the other tenderly supported his head.

“Oh, Hikaru, are you alright? You really have to be more careful. You’re always so clumsy,” Karou said in a strangely breathless voice.

Hikaru brought up Kaoru’s hand and pressed it weakly against his cheek. “I can’t help it. I wish there was some way to change my character.”

“But you don’t need to change it. Not when I’m here to protect you.”

The twins stared deeply into each other’s eyes like there was no one else in the room. The girls gasped and broke into applause, blubbering among themselves about how sweet and pure brotherly affection was, whatever that was.

Haruhi burst out laughing at the disgusted look on your face. “I take it you’re not a fan of the forbidden brotherly love trope, then?” “Is that what that is? Yeah, no, you can count me out.” You watched the girls freak out over the twins for a few more seconds. If you didn’t know better, you’d say the twins were trying to bite back laughter.

“Are people really into this stuff?”

“They sure are. The Host Club is all about providing genuine, heartfelt romance.”

You scoffed. “This isn’t romance. It isn’t anywhere near it.”

“And how would you know?”

“I know because I—”

You cut yourself off. How did you know? Because you had fallen in love over the break? Because you were still reeling from the breakup? 

Because you still weren’t over him?

“I know because I know,” you finished lamely. “Obviously no real-life romance isn’t like this.”

Haruhi gave you a strange look. It felt like she was prying you apart and could see your words for exactly what they were. You felt your face heating up. 

“What happened?” she asked quietly. “Every time anyone brings up anything about love you seem to close up. I can tell you’re trying to go for the cynical route, but is that really what you’re all about?”

Haruhi’s brown eyes were wide and guileless. She was asking out of pure curiosity, not to belittle you or mock you. For a second, you almost answered her, until you realized dimly that the music room had gone eerily silent.

You looked up, shocked to find a single spotlight beaming down on you. All of the guests had turned in their seats to listen to you, and the hosts were all but leaning over your shoulder, holding their breaths in anticipation.

“You can’t be serious,” you snapped, shooting to your feet. “Where is my guest confidentiality supposed to be in this?”

“You can get that later,” Honey said, leaning forward from his seat on Mori’s shoulder. “Just finish answering the question first. What are you really all about?”

You gaped at him for a second, then looked at the other hosts. Despite the varying degrees of amusement in their faces, they did genuinely seem curious to hear your answer. 

Well. That was too bad.

“Let’s go,” you said, grabbing Haruhi’s hand. “Obviously we can’t have a private conversation here.”

“But where are you going?” Tamaki cried. “There’s no better place to pour your heart out than here!”

“I can think of an infinite number of places,” you retorted. You dragged Haruhi out of the music room, glaring at Kyoya as you left. He only shrugged, as though having everyone in the Host Club and their mother listening in on your conversation was to be expected.

“Paragons of manner and class, my ass.”

“We’re sorry,” the twins called after you. “How were we supposed to know you liked privacy?”

You would’ve thrown them an obscene gesture, but there were ladies present and you did actually have a reputation. 

Haruhi let you take her all the way out of the academy to one of the many fountains gushing around outside. It was your favourite one, the one with the little kid pissing into the water. It never failed to make you snicker.

“I’m sorry about them,” Haruhi said when you finally stopped. She was faintly breathless and you couldn’t help but find it a little cute as she drew up a hand to swipe her hair out of her face. “I keep forgetting you have to build up a tolerance to their obnoxiousness.”

“I can tell they’re harmless. That was just a bit much.” You took a seat on one of the steps overlooking the fountain and patted the spot beside you for Haruhi to join you. For a while, you were both quiet as you watched clouds drift by in the fountain’s reflection.

“Are you going to answer my question?” Haruhi said. There was no pressure behind it. 

You leaned back on your hands. “I’m not really that cynical about love. I believe in it. Just … maybe not as much as I used to. I’m wary, I guess.”

Haruhi didn’t pry any further than that and you liked her all the more for it. You both started talking about whatever crossed your minds, plucking subjects out of the air. You learned about Haruhi’s dad and his fierce dedication to her. You learned about her crazy time in the Host Club. If the anecdotes had come from anyone but Haruhi, you wouldn’t have believed them. 

The little tidbits she gave you about each of the hosts was fascinating. You thought you knew Honey and Mori relatively well, but it seemed that they were completely different people in the context of the club. Kyoya having his own personal guard only made you trust him less, and Tamaki being the son of Ouran’s chairman was probably something you should have seen coming. Haruhi only succeeded in giving you a headache when she tried to explain how it was possible to tell the difference between Hikaru and Kaoru. You were convinced that short of permanently tattooing their names on their foreheads, you would never be able to tell the two twins apart.

What you got out of your conversation with Haruhi was that she was very close with all of the hosts. Her pragmatism occupied its own special nook in the club, and it, along with all of the quirks and ticks of the other hosts, somehow kept the outlandish club going. Even if it wasn’t love or romance, there was genuine feeling in the club. If nothing else, you could appreciate that the Host Club was doing all of this not for any malicious intent, but for the wellbeing of Ouran. In the stifling, uptight academy, there needed to be something this overwhelmingly ludicrous to take students’ minds off of things.

Eventually, Haruhi stretched out her legs.

“I think it’s time we start heading home. We’ve been here for a while.” 

“I think you’re right. My tolerance for bullshit has been all used up.”

Haruhi laughed. She had a light, surprisingly girlish laugh. You liked it. A lot. 

Impulsively, you said, “Hey, if you’re free tomorrow night, my parents are hosting a little art gathering tomorrow. It’s nothing formal. Just a little get-together. I’d love it if you could come.”

Haruhi thought for a moment. “I probably could. Are you sure your parents wouldn’t mind? I’m not—I mean, I’m not really part of the ritzy crowd, you could say.”

You waved a hand. “They couldn’t care less about that. You don’t have to be rich to appreciate art, they’d say, or something sappy like that.”

“In that case, I’d love to go.”

You grinned. “Great. You can come by anytime after seven.” You took out your phone and asked for Haruhi’s number. You then texted over your address, feeling a little giddy that you had her number.

Even though there was nothing to be giddy about. Nothing at all.

You and Haruhi made your way to the front gate. There was an awkward moment when Haruhi turned to face you and you scrambled for some eloquent way to say goodbye. She looked pretty in the fading light. You could make all kinds of poetic comparisons. The simplest thing to say was that the light glimmered, catching hints of gold in her hair and eyes.

Haruhi blushed. You blinked, then swore internally, wondering if you’d said that crap out loud.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, smiling.

“Yeah, see you then.”

You waved, and kept waving until she was out of sight. Why couldn’t everyone in the Host Club be like Haruhi? You might actually look forward to going instead of—

“I hope you know you still have several other trial appointments,” Kyoya said from behind you.

You side-eyed him. “And why would I go to any of them? Haruhi’s a great host. I don’t need to try out anyone else.”

Kyoya looked to where Haruhi had just left. He slipped his hands into his pockets. “I suppose you and Haruhi did hit it off quite well.”

“Yeah. We did.”

“Regardless, it’s important to have an idea of all of your tastes. It doesn’t hurt to have a second choice. There may be times when Haruhi is unavailable as a host and you have to pick someone else.”

“Okay, well then I guess I would just go with Honey or Mori—”

“You can’t know until you go to the trials,” Kyoya interrupted. “We’ll put down a definitive second choice for you after you’ve gone through everyone tomorrow.”

You groaned. “You’re telling me I have to go again?”

“Most people would see that as a good thing. Besides, a broken heart can’t be healed in a day. You’ll have to return to the club multiple times if you want to have a chance of healing anything. We’ll need to monitor your progress.”

“What are you, a doctor?”

“No, although I don’t doubt that the Ootori Group would be interested in any research I might be able to contribute.”

It really was impressive how seriously Kyoya was able to take all of this. If he was playing a character, he was doing it scarily well.

“I’ll stop by if I have the time,” you said. “Later, Kyoya.”

He called your name as you were leaving. He had an odd expression on his face.

“There’s nothing wrong with being wary. Particularly about romance. One might say it’s to be expected.”

Your stomach dropped. “What? How did—”

“I expect to see you at the Host Club tomorrow. I’ll send someone to collect you.”

Kyoya turned curtly on his heel. You thought about going after him, but then you decided you didn’t want to know. You went off to find your chauffeur instead.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

[phaticserpent]

Birds of a Feather

Chapter two: Not Giving Up

Prologue | Chapter one

Pan stared at the quiet ocean, the one place that brought him peace and quiet from everything. And….the place that he made his promise to you. He gritted his teeth in frustration and clutched onto his pan flute; he had asked the indigenous population and the mermaids, but there was no sign of you. It’s like you had disappeared but he knew you didn’t. 

Were you avoiding him? 

No…that couldn’t be. He figured his new identity caused you to be wary of him, but how could he tell you that he was THE Malcolm when you were being elusive. The entire island of Neverland felt small, until he was looking for one shapeshifter. 

“Made me wait.” He called out. “I don’t mind waiting.” The mermaids swam closer, giggling as Pan rose to his full height. 

“Still looking for the beloved Neverland shapeshifter? Is she eluding you? Pan?” One mermaid teased, which made the rest giggle. 

“Do you know her whereabouts? Can you tell me when she’s in the water?”

“We barely see her.” Another mermaid sighed. “She’s discouraged from talking to us because you like to spend more time with us. Perhaps, she hates you.” The other mermaids snickered knowingly. 

“Why would she hate me?”

“And why would she avoid you if you two were so close?” 

“....Can you give me her name?” 

“She didn’t tell you?” They gasped at this information. “Perhaps the two of you aren’t as close as you thought.” 

“You….” Pan clenched his fist before relaxing. “What do I have to do to get her name or attention?” 

“Search every tree, I don’t know.” A mermaid shrugged while staring at her nails. “Put up a big message proclaiming your love and want for her.” Pan rolled his eyes. 

“Well, thank you ladies for the ‘helpful’ information. I won’t bother you anymore with this.” Pan sighed as he turned around to leave. He would just have to play the long game, he didn’t mind. He wouldn't give up until he found you. 

You stared from afar as Pan walked away dejectedly, which filled you with a sense of pride. Once he disappeared into the expansive forest, you flew down and revealed yourself to the mermaids, who greeted you. 

“(Y/N)! I missed you!” A mermaid cried. 

“Did you bring anything shiny for me from the forest?” 

You smiled. “It’s been a while! Sorry for not seeing you guys sooner.” The mermaids all cooed and rushed to reassure you. “How have things been?”

“Boring.” A mermaid responded.

“Ugh, absolutely exhausting.” Another mermaid said. “Pan has been hounding us with questions about you. Even dumping information about him visiting Neverland as a child and being with you, ugh.” 

“Oh, he did? That’s odd.” You stared at them. “Did he tell you his name? I’m assuming his actual name isn’t ‘Peter Pan’.” 

“He won’t tell us, he only says that the two of you were close.” That was an odd thing to say. “Truthfully, I think he’s lying.” 

“Lying?” You tilted your head. “About what?”

“He’s obsessed with magic.” Another mermaid answered. “I heard, the deal he made with The Shadow was exchanging youth. He abandoned his child to stay here.” You gasped at the revelation, you never thought about what kind of deal Pan and The Shadow made. Meanwhile, the other mermaids started to argue over theories of what actually happened. 

“How ironic….he would leave his own child but bring other children here.” You scoffed. 

“He’s probably going to steal your magic!” A mermaid cried out. “Avoid him at all costs!” 

“I’m trying.” You sighed. “His lost boys are everywhere. I don’t think I’ll be able to hide anywhere.” 

“Why did you never tell him your name?” Another mermaid piped in. “If he knew you and if you knew him, you would’ve told him your name.” 

“Ah well….I never really gave my name to anyone. I don’t think I told Malcolm either. He just kind of called me ‘lassie’. He never asked either.” You shrugged. “So I never told anyone.” They all wished you luck in this giant game of hide and seek, shouting words of encouragement for you. 

“Don’t give up!” They all shouted together before diving into the ocean. You wouldn’t, not when your life and essence was at stake. 

Taglist (send an ask or comment to be added!): @kornelia-yells-in-the-void @fandom-fae @james-800

[tangerinesperfume]

Safe in the silence, we don’t have to leave (just hold on to me, I’ll hold on to you)

Sam does not know what to do. She has no idea how to fix this.

She’s starting to think that maybe she’s not qualified for this. She knew how to deal with hungry Tara, upset Tara, out-of-breath Tara, shy Tara, chatty Tara, almost every version of Tara

But right now, she’s experiencing a Tara that’s panicking and sobbing so hard that she’s probably unaware of her surroundings. Pretty much inconsolable.

Sam’s best guess is that a nightmare occurred since she’s 100% sure that Tara went to bed.

So, here she is, trying her best to fix this.

“Tara sweetie,” Sam quietly says, “do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Tara is underneath the dining table, huddled in a fetal position, unresponsive to Sam’s words. Just crying very loudly, only slightly muffled by the way her face is hidden in her knees.

She’s been there for the last 20 minutes and Sam is getting a little bit scared.

She considers reaching out for Tara and just pulling her into her embrace to hide and protect her from the world, keep her cocooned in the empty curves of her heart that only fit her little Tara.

But she knows better, Tara just started getting used to holding onto Sam’s arms whenever they’re out and about and she gave Sam a total of 3 hugs. She’s doesn’t want to push it when Tara is this vulnerable.

She’s not used to being patient but she sits there, a few feet away, waiting for Tara to give any sort of sign.

Sam starts humming a sweet tune, praying that it might have some effect on Tara; she knows Tara likes it when she sings. She’s known for a while now that Tara hides herself close by her whenever she’s singing, she’s been singing to herself a little more loudly for her one special, hidden audience member.

Time passes by, either Tara feels better or she’s just worn out. The loud sobbing is reduced to hiccups and tears, while Sam’s soft humming is the loudest sound in the house accompanied by Tara’s shaky breathing.

When Tara turns her head to face Sam. She’s met with her big sister’s sweet smile, her big sister’s face that she knows will never hurt her, her big sister’s voice that can bring her back to earth.

Swollen, dry eyes could not deny her from seeing the possibility of hope that exists in the shape of her Sammy.

She decided right then and there to be brave. She gathers all her courage and crawls out from under the table right into Sam’s arms.

Sam’s arms that welcomed her so warmly, so safely.

She puts her head in the crook of Sam neck where she knows the world won’t find her. Sam’s hand reach out to Tara’s head, patting her and the other arm secures her into position as she stands on her feet to rock them both side to side.

“Hey, hey, sweet girl,” Sam softly coos, “are you okay? Do you need an inhaler?”

Tara shakes her head, she just wants to be where she is right now.

Sam realizes that this is a huge moment. For both of them.

They have never ever been this close and Sam recognizes for the first time that she might’ve needed this as well.

Maybe they missed this their whole lives. Anyone could tell you that they did, seeing how tightly they’re both holding onto each other.

Sam sways them for a few minutes, continues humming and waits for Tara, this time less nervous.

A few minutes go by and Tara finally speaks,

“Mommy came back again,” there’s a tremor in her voice, “she had a knife to hurt us, even sam.”

Sam’s movements stop for a second, she wants to say something quickly to reassure Tara but she beats her to it,

“It was so scary. I couldn’t protect us.” Tara whimpers, Sam can feel the tears coming back.

“Shhh, baby, no,” Sam retorts, “I won’t let anything bad ever happen to you, okay?”

Tara hesitates but nods weakly into Sam’s shoulder.

Not enough, Sam thinks.

“Do you even know how strong I am?” Sam tries to brighten the mood, “everyone’s scared to fight me and even, little sam is a tough cat.”

That gets a little laugh from Tara and Sam kisses her on the head.

“And you, my sweet girl, are strongest and smartest and bravest girl I’ve ever seen, but you don’t even have to be strong because you’re so safe here with me, okay?”

“Okay.” Tara says as she’s playing with the string of Sam’s hoodie.

“Can I please see your face?” Sam asks.

Tara moved her head to meet Sam’s eyes. They’re red and swollen and her cheeks are blotchy from all the crying but there’s new look of determination in her face. A look inherited from Sam.

“As long as the three of us are together, no one will ever hurt us or even think about it, okay?” Sam reassures, “not in here or in your dreams.”

“I’ll just tell them that my big sister will come and get them.”

“Yeah, that’s my girl.” Sam laughs and kisses Tara’s cheeks (she seems to welcome them.) and brings her back into the hug.

If only the Carpenter sisters, at that moment, realized this gravity of this exchange.

If only the Carpenter sisters understood that this moment would define their lives forever.

Did they accidentally seal their fates? Or were they always walking towards this path?

[absolutelynooneaskedforthis]

CLEAN

Trevor Zegras x reader

synopsis; reader has struggled with self harm since high school, and in the face of a relapse, Trevor supports them with everything he has. based off of the bridge mostly, the ten months sober, i must admit, just because your clean don’t mean you don’t miss it section specifically. fun fact. i cannot listen to this song without crying 💪😔

a/n; this is for all my bitches who have struggled with s/h in the past or are currently, i love you all and i’ve been there, it does get better. please tell someone. please at least find an outlet for that anger. it’s hard. please please please help yourself. you will thank yourself later for letting you find yourself.

warnings; self harm, mentions of trauma, daddy issues (same💪💪), mentions unsupportive family, established relationship, flashbacks are in italics unless it’s a highlighted word, y’all know how to read fics

HEY! IF YOU ARE DEALING WITH SOMETHING THAT INVOLVES SUICIDE OR SELF HARM PLEASE TALK TO SOMEONE ABOUT IT. I know it seems hard, but you will find help and hope. I love each and every one of you. i know where you are, and you will feel better once you tell someone trusted.

You don’t know what it was that brought you back to that day.

One second you were enjoying your boyfriend’s current hockey game, the next you were in the bathroom staring at yourself in the mirror. Waiting. For what, you didn’t know. Something. Anything. To set you off. To have it begin again. All the words. The scars.

The scars.

They were like physical reminders of all the things he used to say to you. All the “you’ll never be good enough”s and the “why are you the way you are?”s. Even the little things, anytime he told you to settle down, shut up, sit still. You used to bite your nails, but your dad thought that was an issue too.

“Stop chewing your nails, you look like a toddler. Immature and stupid. Wouldn’t be a stretch.” he mumbled the last part, but you heard. Loud and clear.

“I’m going to trevor’s.” You raced to the kitchen table to grab your bag and hurried to Trevor’s house.

You knocked on the door and texted him to let you in. It was around 8:00. You were 17.

He opened the door to see tears welling in your glassy eyes.

“What do you need?”

“Can I just, stay here? For the night?”

“Yeah, we were just about to watch a movie. I’ll ask my mom to let you choose.” He brought his arm over your shoulders and closed his front door.

“Hi cutie! Are you alright?” Julie brought her hand to your face in a greeting as you nodded as enthusiastically as you could.

“What did you want to watch?” she immediately caught Trevor’s gaze and grabbed the remote.

“Mamma Mia?” you suggested. It was summer and you had been aching for a Zegras family movie night.

Julie nodded curtly and selected the DVD from the shelf in their living room.

“Hey kiddo. Popcorn?” Gary sat down and passed you the bowl.

“Thank you, Mr. Trevor’s dad.” You’d called him that since you were little and you didn’t know his name. You practically inhaled the handful and turned to your left to see Ava and Griffin in the kitchen.

“Y/n!” Ava rushed to the couch and immediately wedged herself between you and Trevor. His hand still lingered behind you heads as he rubbed small circles into your shoulder.

That was before it all happened.

Every little comment was like a new open wound. A new knife to slice your self esteem. Everything made it so much worse.

Trevor knew about all of the shit your father put you through. He was always there. At school, when he let you stay the night, sneaking out to go get ice cream when either you or him were grounded, he was your person.

When he moved in with Jack, you moved with him, against your father’s wishes. He disowned you on your birthday over the phone, and Trevor and the Hughes were there for you.

All of this brought you back to your bathroom mirror, and the reflection staring through it.

You looked at your wrists and hands in the mirror. The lines. Creases of melancholy seared into your tired veins.

You glanced at your razor on the glass shelf next to the mirror.

Ten months sober, I must admit

Just because you're clean, don't mean you don't miss it

“I’m home babe!” Trevor called to you from the kitchen, you were assuming.

How long had you been in here?

“Bathroom,” your voice tried to reach him, but failed as it cracked and turned thin.

Your frail voice must have given you away, as immediately after you heard fast footsteps up the hall as Trevor swung the door open, but not in a hurried manner. He examined the counter and you.

“Don’t do it. It’s not worth it, not after you’ve made this much progress.” He enveloped you in a hug and you couldn’t help but crumble into him. Your t-shirt slowly began creeping up as Trevor’s hands traced circles up your back.

“Why did he do it Trev? I haven’t spoken to the man in years and he still haunts me.”

“He’s not here, that’s all that matters. And i’m here, pretty girl. I’ve always got you.” he kissed the crook of your neck lightly as he tapped your hip to signal for you to stand up fully. His arms still wrapped around you, he whispered to the air between you,

“Jump.” but there was nothing romantic about his tone. He was ever sweet and caring in your moments of need.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to your shared bedroom. He sat you down on the edge of the bed and nudged your arm up to help you take your tear stained shirt off.

There was nothing sexual about his actions, just you and him. In that moment. A necessary action for the both of you.

Once you were changed into a more comfortable shirt, and Trevor changed out of his game day suit, the two of you laid under the covers, holding each other in exhaustion and love. You had nothing but the latter for him. Love.

Ten months older, I won't give in

Now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it

[paimonial-rage]

how to be a better fan - venti

ship: venti x reader

synopsis: in which reader and venti get stuck in a locker and do stuck-in-a-locker related things

notes: idol!au; sequel to secret identities and whatnot

You grumbled as you peeked into the breakroom. Much to your abject irritation and unwilling relief, waiting for you inside was the lyricist extraordinaire. You had a very special reason for meeting him today, and it could only be him. It had been a year since 5WIRL formed, though it was 4NEMO at the time. You wanted to plan something special for the group. 

Still, you couldn’t help but hesitate before going inside. Things have been… awkward around Venti as of late. Not long ago, you learned that he was actually your all-time favorite artist. And after all those things you told him while trying to make him upset, you–

“Oh, is that my biggest fan peeking through the door there?”

Ugh.

You pushed the door forcefully open and stomped over to the table in which he sat. 

“It’s way too early for me to be dealing with you.”

He gasped.

“That’s so rude! How can you say that to your first love?”

Maybe you could choke him to death and bury the evidence somewhere. You feel you became good friends with Heizou. He’d surely help you, right?

“Anyway, I thought we could go to Dragonspine Theme Park for the group anniversary. Apparently in two weeks, they will be holding a scavenger hunt. Heizou would have fun with that, right? I think Aether is fine with anything, and as for Kazuha… I think the same for him too. My only concern is Xiao. I’m not sure if it would be too loud for him.”

Venti shrugged.

“Nah, Xiao may seem all grumpy, but I think he’d be interested. He just tends to hide that side of him, that’s all.”

You gave a hesitant smile.

“Well… if you say so. I’ll be trusting you then… I want everyone to have fun.”

He placed his chin against his hand and grinned.

“We will! Don’t worry about it. It could even rain and we still would have a great time with you.”

You blinked in surprise. 

“Wait, I didn’t plan on going myself. I wanted to get you all away from work. Not even the manager is going…”

“What?” Venti gasped in surprise and took your hands in protest. “But you have to go! You’re our friend. It wouldn’t be right if you weren’t there.”

As he spoke, his beautiful emerald eyes gazed into yours imploringly. As hard as you tried to ignore the blush rising to your cheeks, the genuine tone his words took made your heart go weak. You glanced away.

“Fine, I’ll go. Besides, who knows what trouble you’ll all get up to without me there.”

You hated the way your face became even hotter with the dazzling smile that captured his lips soon after. 

“Do you mind heights? Because I’d love to go on a few rollercoasters with you. Also the games. I have a pretty good aim, so I bet I can win you a ton of stuffed animals,” He exclaimed, swinging your arms in excitement. 

Unable to take it any longer, you snatched back your hands and took a step away.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I said I was going. No need to pile on the charm…”

He giggled, and took a step close, a bit too close.

“Why? Is it working?”

Your heart stuttered, and that annoying flush painted your cheeks an even more vibrant color.

“You–”

Voices from the hall outside stopped you cold.

“... No, I didn’t see Venti this morning.”

“First?”

“I didn’t see them either…”

Your body reacted before your mind could. Without missing a step, you pulled Venti with you into a locker against the wall. You barely had any time to gently close it shut before four sets of footsteps walked in.

“Hmm… I thought they’d be in here. First usually likes to set up early.”

You leaned forward and squinted, doing your best to peek through the grate on the locker door. Much to your displeasure, Venti stood between you and that grate which cut off visibility more than you would have liked. It didn’t help that he kept squirming too. Was he trying to get you both caught?

“Perhaps First finally snapped and murdered our dear leader. They could be burying the body right now as we speak.”

“It’s not kind to joke about things like that, Heizou. That being said, I can’t say he wouldn’t deserve it if First did snap…”

You gave your companion a pinch when they grumbled.

“Right? Well, fret not. I’ve figured out where they are. And it looks like Xiao did too.”

“I want no part of this.”

“Really? Where are they?”

“Right this way.”

You stood frozen in place for a few seconds after 5WIRL left, but when it finally became clear they would not be coming back in, you let out a sigh of relief and rested your forehead against Venti’s shoulder. If you both were in a precarious situation before, it was that multiplied by a billion now. 

“So um… mind telling me why we’re in here?” Venti asked with a nervous laugh. 

You sighed.

“Isn’t it obvious? If everyone saw us both together, they’d think we’re planning something! This is supposed to be a surprise!” 

“Really? I would’ve thought something else…” He mused, glancing up in thought. 

“Well, regardless, they’re gone so we can get out of–”

Um…

Hmm…

You tried pushing the door one more time. 

Umm…

You laughed nervously.

“Do uh… you know how to open a locker from the inside?”

Silence.

“I… can’t say I do…”

More silence.

Even more silence.

You groaned and knocked your head against the back of the locker in frustration. If you didn’t manage to find a way out, you… you didn’t even want to imagine what would happen!

“You know…” His voice serenaded sweetly, a bit too sweet, as he wrapped his arms loosely around you. “A lot of fans do want to get close to their bias, but I didn’t know you were the type as well, First.” 

Though you felt heat rushing to your face, you willed with every single speck of willpower you possessed for it to subside. You could ignore your heart beating out of your chest at least for now. It was about time someone knocked him down a peg or two.

“Well, I figured for you, at least someone has to. You know, being the least popular and all…” You replied with a grin.

He gasped in offense.

“How rude!”

You knew that the last popularity polls were a bit of a touchy subject, but in all honesty, it wasn’t Venti’s fault his popularity dropped. Due to being busy with other projects and collaborations, he wasn’t able to take as active a role in 5WIRL as he used to. Still, you were ready and willing to use any ammunition you could get your hands on. 

“Maybe if you were a better singer people would pay attention to you more,” you mused lightly. 

Though the light that shone through the grate hid much, you couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled forth upon catching sight of his pout. You always knew he knew he was cute, but did he truly realize how adorable he was? All of his expressions were attractive, but somehow the faces he made when you won your little tiffs made your heart beat the most. 

“Yeah? Well, you could be a better fan too!” He finally replied. 

You laughed.

“Really? Calling you my first love wasn’t enough?”

His cheeks warmed. And as he bit his lip, you wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

“W-Well you could be more devoted…”

You leaned in slowly, pressing your body against his. You felt lightheaded.

“A-And more passionate…”

His voice shook.

“A-And… umm…”

His breath brushed against your lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut.

And then you lost your balance.

Blinded by sudden bright lights, you let out a loud squeak as you found yourself falling forward at an alarming speed. And though you hit the ground cushioned by something soft, you could only lay there in shock. What in the world just–

“See? I told you I knew where they were,” came a teasingly smooth voice. 

“That didn’t mean you had to bother them…” sighed another. 

“Are you alright, First? Venti?”

After finally gathering your wits enough, you looked up to see Aether smiling down apologetically at you with a hand out. And then looking down, there was Venti whom, just a few seconds before, you were about to–

“THANK YOU VERY MUCH!” You yelped, taking Aether’s hand to quickly pull you to your feet. 

“I, um, I…”

You had to explain yourself. You couldn’t allow them to misunderstand! It wasn’t like you were– Sure it looked suggestive, but it wasn’t what they were thinking! You and Venti were just… You both got locked inside and– It wasn’t like–

And then came Heizou, the utter ass, with his award winning smile.

“I hope we didn’t interrupt anything.”

But upon seeing your face suddenly light aflame, his eyes widened in shock. And when he turned to Venti and saw the singer sitting up in a similar state as you, dread filled his stomach. 

“W-Wait, did we really–”

“No, you’re wrong. Just shut up. I’m going now, goodbye!”

And with that, you dashed out of the room.

“I’m…. going to go after them,” Venti mumbled before following after you.

And after the door closed, the rest of 5WIRL sat in muted shock. Finally, Heizou let out a pathetic chuckle.

“Let it be said my deductions are not infallible. I should probably apologize later, shouldn't I?”

“Yes, you should.”

[agirlwithbigdreamsforher]

DATE NIGHT

THE NANNY: ONE SHOT

DATE NIGHT

Pairing: Andy Barber x Annie Johnson (OFC)

Summary: It’s always good to have some alone time once in a while.

Warnings: it’s porn. Cursing words and all of those forbidden things hehehehe.

A/N: SEX.

Word count: 1355

Disclaimer: I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, used, translated nor reposted anywhere else but here on this blog. Do not steal what you didn’t work for. Minors and ageless blank blogs don’t interact with me or my works. Reblogs and likes are always welcome. Thank you for reading this work of fiction.

GIF's not mine, you can find the credits under the gif :)

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Maddy, a 15 year old girl, was Jake’s new nanny. Andy hired her whenever they had their date night. Jake was running around the living room, Maddy closely behind him.

“Alright, we are leaving.” Andy said.

“Yes, Mr. Barber.”

“You know our numbers, if anything happens, anything at all, please call us, ok?”

“Yes, of course!”

Annie came down the stairs wearing the dress Andy gave her for their first anniversary of dating, it was a beautiful navy blue dress with noodle straps and an A cut skirt to her mid-thigh, a pair of white snickers and a light white sweater on top.

“I’m ready!”

“Let’s go.”

“Bye, guys!” Annie waved Jake and Maddy goodbye and off they went.

Andy turned on the engine and then turned to see Annie.

“You look beautiful.” He gave her a peck.

“Thank you. You look handsome.” Another peck, “So what’s the plan?”

“Dinner then Movie Theater.”

“I’ll choose the movie.”

“Deal!”

It was close to 10 when they walked into the movie theater. The room was almost empty, except for a few more people a couple of rows in front of them. 15 minutes into the movie when Annie got closer to Andy.

“Andy?” She whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I’m bored.”

“What? You chose this movie.”

“I know, but is boring.”

“It’s not. Just pay attention; it’s good.”

Annie huffed and turned her face to the screen. She had missed the first 15 minutes and now she was not interested in whatever was happening in front of her.

She then put her hand on Andy’s tight, creeping higher bit by bit.

“What are you doing?” Andy hold her hand.

“I told you I’m bored.”

“Are you insane? Someone might see us.”

“Who? There are like 3 people here and us.”

“I wanna see the movie.”

“Look, either we leave now or I’m sucking your dick right here, right now.”

Andy thought she was joking but her face was completely serious. And when Andy didn’t move, she leaned towards his lap. So he stood up, grabbed her hand and left the theater.

“That was bold.” Andy said once they were outside.

“Yeah, whatever.” They stood there for a minute, “What do we do now?”

“Go home?”

“Sure!”

They walked to the parking lot and climbed in the car.

“I have an idea.” Annie said, a playful smile on her face.

“What?

“I want to have sex.”

“No, really?” He said in a sarcastic note, “I got that 5 minutes ago! That’s why we are going home.”

“No, I want to have sex here, now.”

“WHAT?!”

“What?”

“It’s a public place! If someone see us…”

“There’s no one here!”

“I’m the ADA, I have an image to…”

“Oh, please! I’m sure you can manage.”

“No, no way!”

“Come on, it’s gonna be fun.” She grabbed his hand and put it between her legs. Andy felt her wetness right away.

“Are you not wearing panties?”

“Nop.” His fingers caressed her folds, finding her little button making her moan.

“Fuck.”

“Please, Andy.” She got closer and kissed him with need, “No one, will see us.”

He thought for a moment while he kept his ministrations on her clit. But then he removed his hand.

“We better go home.” Andy started the engine and Annie let out a frustrated sigh.

Andy was driving carefully on Main Street but his mind was elsewhere, thinking about Annie’s pretty pussy. His knuckles were turning white as he grabbed the wheel with force trying hard to keep it together, but his pants were getting tighter and tighter for his own liking. He suddenly gave a turn to the left.

“Where are we going?” Annie asked confused and the car came to a stop. The lights of the car illuminate the end of an empty alley. Andy turned off the lights.

“Come here.” Andy pounced towards her kissing hard with lust. Annie moaned into the kiss, and they only stopped once they needed air.

“But you said…”Annie began but Andy cut her off.

“Get on my lap.” He opened the fly of his pants and took his hard dick out. He pumped it a few times. “You want this?” Annie nodded and bit her lip. Andy pull his seat backwards as much as he could and Annie climbed on his lap, rubbing her pussy on his length.

Andy took her by her hips and pull her up, her pussy almost at his eye level. Her slit was barely wet and he dove in. His tongue lapping at her entrance.

“Oh fuck!” Annie was trying to keep her balance against the wheel. Andy sucked her clit slightly. “God!” Annie pushed her head back.

“Fuck, I need you.” Andy said with her beard glistening in his spit and her juices. He took his member and rubbed it against her slit before slid in. His girt stretched her deliciously. Once he bottom out, they sighed and moaned together.

Andy was just adjusting to her warm hole when Annie began humping him. His dick coming in and out of her.

“Fuck, that’s it, fuck yourself on me.” Annie move faster and faster, chasing her release.

“Andy…” she breathily moaned.

“You gonna come, baby?”

“Yeah… fuck!” Her pace was faster than ever, Andy could feel her walls squeezing him. “I…Can’t…”

Andy looked at her, her brows were knit together. He look down to her pussy and his finger rubbed her clit fast.

“SHIT! YES! JUST LIKE THAT! PLASE DON’T STOP!!!!! FUCK!!!!! I’M COMING!!!!”

Andy moaned as he felt her coming against his cock and her walls milked his dick. The warm feeling of his load filled her pussy and Annie lean against his forehead.

“That was…” Annie began.

“Amazing.”

“Yeah.”

They were catching their breath, still join together at their middle when the tap against the now foggy window made them jump. Andy pull the window down only to be met by a flashlight.

“Alright, lovebirds.” The voice sounded very familiar to them. “Oh my god, Annie?” The man moved the light from their faces. “Andy?!”

“Seb, what the fuck?!” Andy said.

“Me?! Why are you doing?! No, never mind I can see.” He said in a teasing tone looking down a bit.

“Don’t fucking look!” Andy said as Annie hid her face in his neck.

“I knew this car looked familiar!” he laughed, “Wait until Anthony hears about this.”

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Andy said pointing Sebastian with his finger.

“Can we go?!” Annie said this time, her face was red. Andy didn’t know if it was because of her orgasm, embarrassment or both.

“Sure! I’ll let you go with a warning. Just keep this,” He gestured with his hand to them, “to your house.���

“Like you’ve never done it!” Andy said.

“I’m not gonna lie, I know good places where no one can disturb you.” Seb said with a smirk. “I’ll tell you about them next Monday, how about that?”

“I wanna go home!” Annie said.

“Fine! You can go. Have a good night.”

Andy saw in the rare mirror how Sebastian jumped on his car and left.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” Annie said as she hid her face with her hands.

 “Hey,” Andy move her hands away from her face, “This was fun, I actually haven’t done it in a car since High School.” She smiled at him, “You get the worst out of me.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I loved it.” He lean in and kissed her softly. “And I’m also at fault, I couldn’t control myself.” She kissed him now, “We better get going.” Annie nodded and moved to the passenger seat. She squirmed when she felt his sticky cum coming out of her. She lift her booty and place her sweater on the site. Andy just shook his head, turned the engine back on and went home.

----------(     )----------

Monday morning, ADA’s office. Andy was getting comfortable in his chair, the smell of his coffee filling his nostrils, he took a sip and the door suddenly flew open.

“You had sex in your car?!” Anthony said as Sebastian followed him.

“I can’t believe you actually told him!”