#but this does seem to be happening suspiciously often

[hermitcrimes]

xB's crimes of episode 2

Grand theft equine

[heliosundercover]

Special customer

Redhood

Special customer Redhood who gains the title by beating up some shady guys attempting to break into your bakery and apartment above it, and after the job was done, you begged him to stay around until you got a new security system installed. But even with it installed, he seems to be in the area. One night, you offered him a coffee, and now every night on patrol, he comes for his coffee.

 

Special customer Redhood, got a pretty sweet drink, not something a vigilante would drink. It was a black coffee with 5 pumps of caramel and a dash of cinnamon sugar. Something about the unlikely order was cute in a way.

 

Special customer Redhood, doesn't know that you have an alarm set, so you can wake up late enough to catch him and give him his coffee. One day he catches you, though. You come downstairs to check to see if he was there yet, and he sees you in pajamas, your hair up so you can sleep comfortably, 

 "Wait, were you sleeping?" He looks you up and down. 

"Nice pajamas" 

Only then does he look up the hours of the bakery, seeing that it closes at 10 p.m., whereas he's coming in between 1 a.m. and 3 a.m. That was when he first realized how considerate you were.

 

Special customer Redhood finally asks you about your day after two weeks of him coming in for a cup of coffee and a weirdly comfortable silence while he drinks and unwinds from his long patrol.

"How was your day... You look exhausted." He took a long pause, realizing he didn't know your name, but to his surprise, you laughed, and after that one small gesture, he knew he wanted to hear it again. 

You and him talked for a few hours until his headset pinged that there was something suspicious going on in the area he was supposed to be patrolling, but here he was flirting with a baker.

He never got your name.

 

 

Special customer Redhood, gets the same thing every time, so eventually you give his order a special name. His own secret menu item. special customer, Redhood, who asks

"Did you name this drink after me?" When you say 

"One red cup coming up." The name was Corny, and it slipped up before you could stop yourself, and now you cringed as you could hear the smirk in his heavily distorted voice. His question was immediately met with denial. 

 

Special customer Redhood enjoyed talking with you and learning about you. He also liked how you weren't pushy, not asking anything that could put his identity at risk. Here's a list of things he told you.

He liked classic literature.

He had never tried matcha before you made him try your new matcha white chocolate cookies. 

He loved animals and always wanted a big dog.

His favorite color was green, which was surprising considering his choice of name.

He never went to college. 

 

New customer Jason Todd, who made you raise an eyebrow when he ordered a "red cup," had a barely noticeable smirk like he was thinking of an inside joke.  Your eyebrow raised a bit more when a younger-looking guy asked

"Jason, why this bakery? It's not even a real coffee shop; they just happen to sell three types of coffee and a special lemonade. And its super put of the way."

His words were met with a flick to the back of his head by Jason.

"Because I like it here."

 

New-ish customer Jason, who came in mornings ordering the same thing every couple of days every so often, had a person or two with him. But while Jason wasn't consistent, but you like him any.

 

Special customer Redhood, who had been planning on asking you out as Jason for months. It was now winter, and the snow on the ground made him think of you. He knew winter was your favorite season, and it was the first snow of the season today. He knew it had to be today. 

 

Innocent bystanders Dick, Damian, and Tim watched their brother go mad over a baker. A mix of happiness and impending doom lingered amongst the group they had started taking bets on when he would finally ask her out a while ago. And so far, Alfred is the closest to winning. 

 

Regular customer Jason Todd, who had run into the bakery with flowers in hand right before closing, Slightly out of breath, he asked 

"Will you go out to dinner with me? Saturday night at 8 p.m.?"

"Sure." You smile happily, accepting his offer  and you watch as his eyes light up and he hands you the bouquet of flowers. 

 

Boyfriend Jason Todd, who is surprised when you, after a year of dating, reveal that you've been suspicious since day one, All because of a stupid drink with a corny name. 

 

Boyfriend Jason Todd, who can't help but tease you,.

 "So it was named after me?"

 

Boyfriend and soon-to-be fiancée Jason Todd, who proposes to you on the roof of your apartment and bakery the whole roof was decked out with a vine covered arch and fairy lights. 

"So, will you marry me?"

 

He gets on one knee, opening a gorgeous engagement ring with your favorite precious stone inside. It was your dream ring, and he was your dream guy, and of course you said yes.

 

Fiancée Jason Todd, who pulls you into a passionate kiss when he hears the words leave your lips, couldn't be more excited to spend the rest of his life with you.

[moongreenlight]

141 gossiping about Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley for roughly 3,000 words idk titles are hard

Price was the first to notice. Priding himself on being incredibly observant, especially when it came to his boys.

He noticed that whenever they had a break from trainings or meetings, he’d somehow always find the two of you in a room together. Never close enough to give him reason to say anything. You scribbling notes on a patient report at one table, Ghost at another, his chair angled just enough so that he could watch you from the corner of his eye.

Noticed the way Ghost’s hand rested on the small of your back for a heartbeat when you entered a doorway before him. Just a brush of his massive hand on you, quick enough to be mistaken for an accidental touch.

Noticed how Ghost’s eyes seemed to always flick to you from across the mess hall. Not often, but enough for Price to casually turn his head and see that same nurse Ghost seemed to have a preference for.

At first, Price thought he could help by being a wingman of sorts. When Ghost took damage on a mission, Price would escort him to medbay and watch as he dismissed nurse after nurse until you were finally available to treat him. Price lingered as long as he could before you inevitably waved him away, cheekily reminding him you always took good care of his team and that you’d have ‘Lieutenant Riley’ back in no time. The only thing he could catch was the way Ghost’s shoulders relaxed by a hair’s breadth when you drew the curtain shut behind you.

He tried again during a meeting with his boys. Suggesting they bring a medic on a mission with them. Said something about how it would be better to have the option of a patch-up readily available. Keep his team fighting fit in real time instead of having to wait until they came back to base. Price saw the way Ghost tensed slightly in his seat, the muscles in his jaw twitching under his balaclava.

The notion was quickly vetoed. Ghost grumbling something about not wanting to babysit any more than he already does. How it’s ultimately more paperwork he doesn’t want to have to deal with.

He tried once more, going to Ghost’s office one evening. Almost turning tail once he realized how ridiculous it was to be this insistent on figuring out if his Lieutenant had some boyish crush on the sweet nurse he always seemed to be lingering around. But ultimately decided that it was good practice to know more about his team personally. Better bonding meant better interaction on the field, right?

He asked Ghost to redo some paperwork. Add a ‘next of kin’ to his file in the event that something happened and they needed to alert someone. Ghost looked a little suspicious, shrugging off the request.

“Left it off for a reason, Captain.”

He said gruffly, waving a hand. Barely looking up from his desk.

Price pursed his lips, shifting his weight slightly.

“You sure, Simon? Haven’t got anyone that’d be interested to know what happened to you?”

Ghost rubbed the bridge of his nose, like the conversation was more trouble than it was worth, before shrugging once more. Finally looking up from his desk and leaning back slightly in his chair.

“You planning on shipping me off somewhere and not picking me back up?”

A small chuckle from Price. A shake of his head.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Cheers, then. Leave it off.”

This quelled Price’s curiosity for a while, unable to dream up any other reason to try and force Ghost to indulge him. It no doubt hurt his ego a bit, thinking about how his Lieutenant and one of his closest friends was so dead set on keeping his personal life so closely guarded. He’d push the feelings aside, chalk it up to being jaded by his work. Over-involved in the lives of Soap and Gaz. It was probably good for Simon to have something sacred.

Soap wasn’t as easily deterred once he caught on. Not as immediately perceptive as the others, but he knew Ghost well enough to know his tells.

It was after a long mission. Months long. Grueling, shitty, exhausting work. They got back in the early evening, mercifully spared from a debrief until the following day. Soap somehow ended up dragging Ghost to a dive bar a few blocks from base. Trying to sound persuasive when he mentioned that it was a Friday night and they deserved a few drinks and some female attention after all this time going without.

And they did get attention. Two good looking military men sitting at the bar were bound to. Soap knew that Ghost wasn’t one to play the field, but this was a bit frigid even for him. Ignoring girls who came up and tried to strike conversation. Rolling his eyes, or huffing a sigh like it was a chore to even dismiss them, drumming his fingers on the wall of his glass like he’s bored. It was baffling.

What was even more baffling was the way that Ghost’s knee bounced slightly against the stool. An infinitesimally small movement, but the way it caught Johnny’s eye made it seem like Ghost was all but jumping up and down. He looked almost anxious. Itching to get up and leave.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?”

Ghost’s head jerked toward Johnny, cold eyes narrowing in a way that would have been terrifying years ago- before he’d gotten used to it.

“Come again?”

“Got somewhere to be, have you?”

He sounds almost indignant. Like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Ghost is stand-offish by nature, but this is a caliber he hasn’t yet encountered. Almost enough to be offensive. To make him question the quality of his company.

“Maybe I do. What’s it to you?”

Ghost grumbled, killing the contents of his glass with a final mouthful. Setting it back on the counter and moving to drum his fingers on the bar.

“Been out of the country for months and you expect me to believe you’ve got plans tonight?”

This earned a sigh, low enough to pass as a growl.

“You keeping my social calendar now, then?”

He stood, digging through his wallet for a moment before slapping some cash down on the table next to his empty glass. Not giving Johnny an opportunity to lodge any further complaints against him. Before he nodded his goodnight and slipped out of the bar. Mumbling something about needing to get back to his flat and check on some things.

Soap couldn’t get his mind around it. Ghost was elusive, sure, but again; something seemed off. He was calm, cool, and collected. Wouldn’t be caught dead manifesting his impatience physically. The fidgeting and twitching in his seat. The first place Soap’s mind went was maybe Ghost was dying? That’d be the only reasonable explanation for his behavior. But even then, it seemed a bit extreme.

The next day after the debrief, which was nearly as brutal as the deployment itself, Soap was still so in his head about Ghost’s behavior he almost didn’t notice the pretty nurse who seemed to be waiting for someone at the end of the hall. In fact, he was so stuck in his own mind, he only caught a fleeting glimpse of Ghost’s back rounding the corner with the nurse at his side. Hushed conversation disappearing with them. A softer, much more pleasant voice than Simon’s.

He debated whether or not to follow them, maybe answer the questions that’d been plaguing his mind. Ultimately, he decided in favor of it. Padding down the hall behind the duo who seemed to be headed back to Simon’s office. They weren’t walking closely enough to touch, but Soap immediately picked up on the tension between them. Like the distance was serving some sort of purpose.

Soap lingered in the hallway for a few minutes after the two disappeared into Ghost’s office, trying to sort the pieces of the puzzle he’d barely began collecting. He ultimately decided to go the route he was most comfortable with. Not one for sneaking about, he simply strode up to the office door and swung it open.

You were sat at one of the chairs in front of Simon’s desk, him standing with his arms folded over his chest next to you. Not compromising enough for Johnny’s taste, but he still put on a wide grin and nodded to you.

“Forget how to knock?”

Ghost’s voice was calm enough, but his eyes were shooting daggers straight through Johnny. You looked stiff as a board, chewing the inside of your lip through the tight smile you were giving him.

“Sorry, L.T. Needed to know if you’re still on for trainings this afternoon.”

He didn’t miss the way your eyes flicked to Ghost, communicating something that he couldn’t quite decipher wordlessly before you began studying your nails in your lap.

Ghost cleared his throat, rolling his tongue in his cheek. Growling something obscene under his breath. The agitation rolling off of him in waves.

“No. Got another assignment.”

And with that, Soap was all but thrown from the office. Querying about this ‘new assignment’ the whole way. Simon crowding him to the door until he finally snapped it shut on his nose.

He heard later that day Ghost was seen in medbay with a toolkit swearing at an X-Ray machine that had been giving you trouble for a month. After that, Soap was on the two of you like a fly on shit. Never missing an opportunity to bring you up to Ghost or vise versa. Mock-innocently saying something to Ghost in passing at dinner about you. Asking if he fancied you. When he said no, Johnny shrugged and nodded. Saying he was glad because he had plans to ask you out the next time he was injured.

That comment landed Soap in the bay sooner than expected. Escorting him to a different nurse’s exam area and standing guard the entire time his black eye was being iced. Berating him for not being able to block a few punches when they had sparred after dinner.

And Gaz, sweet boy that he is, was always more emotionally in-tune. Observant about the little things. Able to pick up on queues Soap and Price may have missed over the years. He was keen as he was quiet, keeping all his little discoveries to himself. Over the years, he’d created a small arsenal of moments he wasn’t sure were significant enough to bring up. Things he could have talked himself into imagining if he thought about them hard enough. Not wanting to jump to conclusions about anything.

But he noticed the incredibly subtle tan line on Ghost’s left hand. Noticed the way he tapped his foot impatiently when the debrief after a long deployment ran long. Noticed the way you always seemed to be around the yard when they touched down after a mission. The way your shoulders dropped when you saw all four of them had returned home. Like you had just been relieved the duty of holding up the sky.

He didn’t immediately connect the dots. Initially thinking that you’d just taken a special liking to the task force. They were some of your most frequent visitors, after all. Price had all but claimed you as their own. Specially requesting that you were the only one to patch their wounds, claiming the other nurses couldn’t hold a flame to your skill.

He didn’t mind. Came to enjoy the little chats the two of you had when the curtains around the cot were drawn. The little kikis you had where you chatted about anything and everything. Complaining about your jobs, irritating patients, botched missions, the morsels of gossip from around base.

One day, after a particularly nasty skirmish on a mission, all four of the men had gnarly wounds. You looked a bit more tired than usual. A bit more on-edge. Your answers were a bit more flat than they usually were. So the first part of the assessment was left mostly silent spare for a few soft “thank you’s” on his part.

It was only when you were bandaging a wound on his thigh did he notice the shape of a ring on your left hand under your glove. A thin band that wrapped neatly around your finger.

“Didn’t know you were married, doc.”

It was a passing comment, more just to spare him the agony of trying to hide his soft groans of pain in the thick silence.

You hummed your acknowledgment, focused more on working sutures through his skin neatly than anything else.

“Lucky bloke. Hope he’s good to you.”

It wasn’t flirty or predatory, like so many of the soldiers could be. A genuine thought. He’d always thought you were sweet. Easy to chat with, always offering him a smile and a chirped greeting when the two of you passed in the hall. Thought you deserved someone to share in your kindness.

You smiled, brow still furrowed slightly in your focus while tying off the stitches.

“He does alright.”

You chuckled softly, straightening on your stool and rolling back just slightly so you could meet his eye.

“All these years and you never mentioned. I’m hurt.”

He words came with a practiced ease, slipping back into your usual playful chatter without missing a beat. Flashing a coy grin as he carefully flexed and relaxed his leg. Getting a feel for the newly patched wound.

You rolled the gloves off your hands and tossed them into the bin. Standing from your stool to scribble a few notes on his chart.

“Not something that ever came up.”

“Now it has. He have a name? How long you been together?”

You chuckled once more, looking over your shoulder at him with an arched brow. A little skeptical of his curiosity.

“A good while.”

He noticed the way you evaded his former question, like you’d done it before. It only fueled his curiosity.

“You worried I’ll know him? Or are you embarrassed? Not much of a looker?”

This earned an amused snort from you, turning away from the chart you’d been working on.

“Nothing wrong with wanting to keep my personal life personal, is there?”

You winked at him, pushing open the curtain that divided the small exam area from the rest of the bay.

He made a small sound of protest, making no move to stand from the cot just yet.

“Alright, forget it. Didn’t even want to know anyway.”

He sounded like a child being denied a sweet. Even playing up the act with a small pout on his mouth.

You tutted softly, conjuring up the best mock-sympathetic look you could before motioning for him to stand.

“We’ll talk later. Captain’ll have my hide if I keep you away a moment longer than is necessary.”

Another sound of protest, followed by a throaty groan as he finally pushed up off the bed. Unsure if he was being dramatic or if the aftermath of the mission had truly gotten to him that bad. Always a flare for the dramatics, him.

He muttered his thanks, cupping your shoulder in his hand as he trudged out. Making you promise to have a proper chat with him later.

He lingered in the bay, allowing himself a few moments peace before getting back to work. Just as he finally turned to leave, he saw Ghost moving stiffly- like he was trying to downplay a limp- toward your little exam area. Though for some reason, the scene looked a bit strange to him. He couldn’t help but peek in.

He caught the way you watched him lumber over with big, worried eyes. The way your nails dug into your palms until he was finally within arms reach. The way you quickly glanced around to see if anyone was paying the two of you any attention before your hands flew to his neck, fingers slipping expertly under the hem of his mask and yanking it up over his nose. Not rough or angry, but with the kind of urgency that suggested you may die if you didn’t see a sliver of his skin. Make absolutely certain he was truly there with you.

The most jarring part- Ghost actually allowing you to touch the mask. Allowing your little hands to breach his personal space. Hands that would have easily been dwarfed by his own, swallowed up and twisted or shoved away like he had seen happen so many times in sparring matches with prospect soldiers. But Ghost just let it happen.

It was a flurry of movement, so fast that Gaz was certain he could have blinked and missed it. Frozen watching the two of you from just behind another exam area. Feeling like he was intruding without even meaning to.

And then he saw the way Ghost’s big arms snaked around your waist, drawing you flush to his front. You leaning up onto your toes to bring your face closer to the Lieutenant’s. A fervid kiss. You flinging your arms around his neck. The way your shoulders shook. A small, choked sob that Gaz was all but certain he imagined. Drowned out for everyone else by the sounds of the bay.

He was almost shocked that the world continued to move after that. Shocked that something that seemed so monumental could happen tucked away into your barely private exam area. Shocked that your reunion hadn’t halted time and space for everyone else like it had for the two of you.

He felt dirty. Like he should go up and apologize for lingering and seeing what he saw. But he stayed rooted to the spot, finding it impossible to move.

Truly the most damning part was when he caught the quickest glimpse of your badge just before the curtain was tugged shut. The badge you kept carefully pinned to your uniform face-down for a reason he couldn’t fathom until now. Twisted free for just a moment and finally connecting the snippets of information he’d collected over the years.

(Y/N Riley)

[sapphic-bats]

Warlock asks Nanny about it once.

She’s cutting apples for him, just the way he likes, and he’s gazing out of the window at the lush, green gardens that his mother so proudly upholds. Among the waxy leaves and spindly saplings, Brother Francis tends to the flora carefully, though Warlock’s quite sure he’s just taking certain leaves between his finger and his thumb, and studying them closely. But what did Warlock know about gardening?

He notices Nanny looking out those windows, too. Though she always gazes and stares with a deep intent, as if she only cares when she does, and it so happens that she never looks upon the garden empty.

What was that funny thing Nanny and Brother Francis had taught him? The thing that Nanny discouraged, to which Brother Francis promoted quite devoutly?

“Nanny, have you ever been married?”

Warlock knows what marriage is. After all, his parents are married, if you can call it that. They married, once, out of love. But it’s since faded. It’s more traditional, now. Out of convenience and a general apathy to trying again.

Nanny’s quick hand stills, blade edge flat against the cutting board. With her back turned to the young boy, he cannot make out her expression. He never can, what with her poised shades she wears pointedly upon her nose. But she speaks soon again.

“No,” she replies, simply.

Warlock considers this. “Do you ever want to be?”

Nanny, who had taken up the cutting again, pauses once more. She sets the knife against the board and tilts her chin towards Warlock. “Wherever have you learned such personal questions, dear?”

She’s not refusing to answer him. She never has. She just asks in true curiosity, and perhaps a slight avoidance. But Warlock’s eight, now, and he knows how to navigate her tricks.

“Where do you think?”

At that, she pauses, lips pursed with their consistent purple tint. The lipstick she wears, that faintly stains Warlock’s forehead when she kisses him goodnight and tucks him in after a bedtime story: often about a garden, or a bird that chirped too loudly, and was cast down to the ground by the other birds. One who became the kind bird of the grounds, and took in other reject birds that had fallen similarly.

She considers his answer a moment more, satisfied with the obvious influence she’s had on him. She turns back to the apple slices.

“Perhaps,” she answers.

There is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t mind, he’s grown up with Nanny at his side, and has become quite fond of the silence. It is where thoughts are made, she said once.

She finishes cutting the apples, and plates the sweet snack to serve to the boy. “What troubles you, dear? You seem awfully curious, all of the sudden.”

Not that she minds. Nanny never rejects curiosity.

“Nothing’s wrong, Nanny, it’s just—” he pauses, considers his next words and how to place them. “You look at Brother Francis a lot, and—”

Nanny interrupts him after an audible, suspicious gulp. “Who?”

He frowns, eyes boring into the back of her head. “You know Brother Francis.”

She seems quite comically nervous, like she’s pressed a wax-seal act over her true thoughts. “Oh, yes,” she decides, too much breath coming with her words. “The gardener.”

“You like him, Nanny.”

She turns, abruptly. “I most certainly do not!” Her voice comes out a tad shrill, though perhaps it’s just outrage and scandal.

Warlock narrows his eyes, perplexed. “But you look at him all of the time.”

“When has that ever had anything to do with- with love?” She struggles with the word.

The boy shrugs. “Mum and Dad don’t look at each other,” Warlock observes. “But Brother Francis looks for you, too.”

Nanny’s mouth, ready with a retort, or perhaps a counter-argument, flicks towards a different shape. One that might be, he does? Or perhaps Warlock is mistaken. She pauses, lips pursed again, and sets her teeth.

“I’m sure he does, love.”

The plate is set before him, and Warlock soon forgets his questions. He never asks Nanny again.

But he’s reminded of it when her eyes, barely visible in the light, flick towards the window into the dazzling garden.

Years later, Warlock is nearly sixteen, and has since let the thoughts from half his lifetime ago fade. They never die, just sort of… wait. Wait to be plucked again, notes of memory leaping from their tinny strings. Like a harp.

His mother takes him into town. Soho, where he has no interest in seeing, but his mother so desperately needs a new vinyl, a coffee, and though she never says it: a moment to get away from the house, or more specifically, her husband within it.

She agrees to let him wander. She trusts him, for all she hasn’t before. And perhaps, she says, the fresh, un-televised air could do him some good.

He’s only taken two steps out of the coffee shop, where his mother remains to await her tea, before he almost runs smack into two pedestrians, arm in arm. He takes a surprised jump back, tongue set with an angry scolding, when he gets a good look at them from behind.

“Nanny?”

They both freeze in unison, as if they both know the name, and the voice that has conjured it forth once more for the first time in five years. Warlock notices something else.

“Brother Francis?” He prods, shocked. “Izzat you?”

Both of the two now turn, and everything around the three fades into blurring colors and churning noises.

Warlock would be a rotten liar if he had said he hadn’t missed them dearly. He would also be a lousy boy if he didn’t recognize them by the backs of their heads alone, he thinks. Because he would know them anywhere. They’d always done a much better job at raising him than his own parents.

They both look different now. Brother Francis seems to have had dental work done, and has cleaned up quite nicely. Nanny, though, appears to have changed her style completely. Her- his? Their? Who knows. But she still sports a fine pair of shades upon the bridge of her nose.

The pair seem to stutter, splutter with a little awestruck surprise. It’s as if they’d never expected to see him again.

“Oh- Warlock,” Nanny Ashtoreth begins, feigning a cool-headed surprise. “How good to see you.”

She sounds different too. Less of a high strain on her voice, more natural.

But Warlock seems to finally feel a gear shift, and a puzzle piece clicks into place. He glances down to the space between the two, where their arms are linked.

In his dumbfounded state, he feels a smile split the trance.

They both see it at the same time, chins tilting to follow his gaze. When they catch where his eyes are, their stares mingle together in concern. It’s a look that wonders aloud whether or not they should be worried, or blatant.

Warlock looks back up to their faces. “I see now why you two left,” he adds, grinning wider.

He can’t help it. He was right all along.

Warlock remembers something, then. It takes all of his power not to burst out into a triumphant laugh.

“I’m sure he does,” he says, slyly.

Nanny’s eyes, illuminated from behind with daylight, widen. She remembers, too. Of course she does.

And she bites back a twinning smile.

[ln4bub]

Public sex with oscar, other people getting off on it without them knowing or like them getting caught or maybe even oscar cuming in yn secretly in front of everyone, just anything voyeur with oscar please 😭

People would never ever guess the things that you and Oscar got up to behind closed doors, and even sometimes open ones. Oscar always got off on the idea of people seeing what he does to you, showing them how well he knows your body. They never question it when his driver’s room door is conveniently left unlocked whilst you celebrate his race, or when he licks his fingers after his hand comes up from below the table at dinner.

Sure they notice how affectionate he is, kissing your cheek and wrapping his arms around you from behind. But they’ve never heard the filthy words he whispers to you about how easy it would be to lift up your little skirt and stuff you full. Or so you thought.

Lando is the first to notice, given the amount of time he spends around you both. He notices the way Oscar often has a hand on you, leaning in too often to whisper something discreetly in your ear. It was at dinner that the truth first came together. Oscar’s hand had been under the table for a while, him eating his dessert with just one hand. You however, hadn’t eaten an ounce of yours. When Lando looked over to you he noticed how flushed you were, how your eyelids fluttered and how your lips seemed more tempting you than the dessert.

His eyes trailed over you, following them down to where Oscar’s hand seemingly rested on your legs. From his vantage point he could see the way Oscar’s arm was flexing rhythmically, his hand moving ever so slightly. His eyes widened as he realised what his shy teammate was doing. He won’t lie and say the thought didn’t have him straining against his jeans slightly, especially when he spotted how calmly Oscar was watching him. Oscar winked at his teammate, a finger coming to his lips in a shh-ing motion. Lando swallowed dryly, nodding as he continued to glance all night, especially when Oscar licked his fingers clean.

Oscar had continued his public acts, often finding himself two fingers deep inside you as you struggled to stay quiet. But he loved the busy clubs, when the drivers booked a VIP booth and no one paid any attention to anything other than alcohol. After the end of his first season in Formula One he was itching to celebrate, aching to get you alone. Once Oscar realised this was unlikely to happen, he’s formed a plan. A plan that culminated in this moment, you on his lap in a club, whilst some other occupants of the grid watched on.

Lando again had been the first to notice, your cheeks flushing at Oscar’s words. “Imagine being stuffed full in this club, nobody would know how deep I am inside you baby.” He cooed in your ear, large hands sliding up and down your exposed legs. It took George and Fernando arriving with more shots for you to agree, firm in your decision that everyone else was preoccupied.

You wriggled in Oscar’s lap, finding a comfortable position that didn’t look too suspicious. You hovered over him as he slipped his member out of his jeans. He bit back a groan as you slid yourself down, your warm walls encasing him. “So fucking tight aren’t you?” He whispered in your ear, “Such a slut for me.” You whimper lightly, burying your head in his neck as you start a subtle grinding motion against him.

“That’s it, use me where anyone could see you. Do you like that idea?” Oscar coos, “That anyone here could look over and see how needy and desperate you are.” His hands squeeze your hips as he rolls you against him, groaning in your ear at the feeling if you wrapped around him. Oscar’s grateful for the booming music, grateful that no-one can hear you moaning for him. You hear Oscar chuckle lightly from your position, looking up at him in confusion. “Don’t stop sweetheart, but we have a small audience.” Oscar tells you, your heart stopping at his words.

He smirks at the way your walls clench around him before beckoning the audience member over. You hear someone sit next to the pair of you behind the table, Oscar greeting him with a nod. “Took you a while to notice this time mate.” Oscar says, your ears barely picking up the scoff of your new admirer.

“Keeping her hidden that’s why Oscar, you know I like to see her face. See what you do to her.” Lando’s voice causes a flush to overtake you, your hips grinding harder against Oscar. He groans once more, head tilting back at the feeling of you on top of him. “Oh she’s getting you good this time isn’t she?” Lando laughs, licking his lips as he watches you move.

“You have no idea,” Oscar smirks, “She’s an angel.” He tells his teammate. You whine into his neck as Oscar’s hand wraps in your hair. He tugs lightly, your face emerging from its hiding spot. “I want you to look at Lando baby, he likes your pretty little face.” Oscar mutters, stroking your cheek gently as he grinds his cock into you. Once you make eye contact with Lando your pace increases, joined now by Oscar’s thumb on your clit. Your moan of his name catches the attention of another driver, the warmth of his body emanating from behind you.

“Roped Lando into your little kink too have you?”

The American accent of Logan fills your ears, a soft smile spreading over your lips at the familiar audience member. “It’s hot isn’t it Lando? The way she’d do anything for him. You should see them behind closed doors, absolutely filthy.” Logan muses, hand resting on your hip as he helps you move over his best friend.

“You really should come watch Lando, she loves the extra pair of eyes.” Oscar tells his teammate, “You think she’s dirty now? Wait ‘til you see her on all fours with my dick in her mouth. It’s art.” You can’t help but moan at his words, squirming at the way the three men discuss you. It’s when Lando smiles at the thought of watching you both in private, nodding at Oscar’s proposal, that you tumble over the edge.

Your legs quake and your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. Your walls clench around Oscar as he bites his lip, stifling the loud moan threatening to spill out. You attempt to hide your face once more but Lando holds your head still, studying your face as you cum for his teammate. Oscar grinds into you deeper, the rhythmic clenching driving him to his own orgasm. He shoots his load inside you, whimpering in sensitivity as Logan continues to move your hips.

The pair of you come down with heavy breaths and flushed cheeks, before eventually leaving the club. Trailed by Logan and Lando for a night you’ll never forget.

[haikyu-mp4]

You're not actors

Fluffy workplace romance as a streamer with your secret husband Kenma for my workplace romance event <3

requested by @dira333. word count; 837 – f!reader

Kenma loves his wedding ring. It’s just a piece of metal, but the matching one on your finger makes him giddy whenever he sees it, even if he doesn’t usually tell you that.

Unfortunately, he has to take it off for work. Your relationship wasn’t public, so he would rather not awaken any suspicions by showing his ring on camera. He’s a private person, preferring not to have everyone asking questions about his personal life.

You have separate streaming rooms on either end of the house so no noise would overlap, and so far everything ran smoothly. Sometimes, you would have to remind him about the ring as he kisses you before heading to his streaming room, and sometimes he remembers it himself. 

And sometimes you both forget.

This time, Kenma started the stream with his ring sitting snug on his finger and as time passed, he simply couldn’t move past this one level. It frustrated him to the point of running his hands through his hair and groaning at the seemingly impossible task. As the light from the screen hit metal, it glinted in the camera.

That’s how the speculations started. Is Kodzuken married? He never answers questions about his relationship status…

You’re a streamer too, often seen doing collabs with Kenma but never in person. You worried either of you might forget to act not in love while the viewers are literally observing your every move.

This time, you streamed alone. You recently started a Stardew Valley series where the viewers got to follow the progress with your fun commentary. It was very entertaining and gained you many more followers.

And Kenma knew you were streaming, so it was difficult to hide your surprise when a shattering sound ran through the house and someone hissed “Shit!”

Pausing the stream, you ran into the living room to find your husband surrounded by broken glass and spilt soda with a sheepish look. After sweeping some of it away and making sure he was okay, you hurried back to the stream and started it again to keep playing.

You pursed your lips, trying to act as if nothing happened. Unfortunately, you’re a YouTuber, not an actor.

That’s how the speculations started. Who does she live with? Is she in a secret relationship?

Following these two unfortunate events, you had no choice but to do the collab you had planned, as skipping it would seem suspicious. So just like normal, you both opened the shooter game and acted like you usually would while playing together, as if the comments weren’t bombarding you with these different rumours and some suggested your rumours were related to each other.

While you swore like a sailor at anything disadvantageous during the game, Kenma fell into the bad habit of watching your stream instead of his game, heart eyes evident to anyone who had eyes themselves. He would eventually sober up, getting revenge on anyone who went against you and then killing you so he could win alone.

His soft voice in your headphones made a shiver run down your spine and you wished the watchers were lying when they said Kodzuken is the only one you don’t curse at.

There were several heart eyes during this stream, and it was not just in the comments.

You both stood in the kitchen a couple of days (read nights) later. Kenma had accidentally woken you up by stubbing his toe on the bed and you demanded snacks so he pulled you along to the kitchen. The two of you talked about your latest work adventures or friend gossip while tapping your feet on the cold floors, a plate of apple pie in each of your hands.

“I’ve been thinking about something,” Kenma said, holding his hand up when he knew you were about to say something like I’m happy you told me or else I’d miss it. “Maybe we should just tell everyone.”

When you looked confused, he flipped his hand around, wiggling his fingers to show off the wedding ring as emphasis. Your eyes widened. “That’s a pretty big thought, buddy, good job.”

He snorted, scooping up another piece of cake and feeding it to you. “I’m serious.”

“But I kinda like watching you try to keep it a secret,” you teased again before stepping closer and pressing light kisses along his jaw. Kenma sighed, pusring his lips and looking away with something that looked an awful lot like guilt.

“I might have just said I have a wife on livestream.”

Flashback to a couple of hours before, when some, probably thirteen-year-old, boy commented on Kenma’s apparent lack of rizz. A gen-Z concept Kenma had no interest in taking part in, but felt weirdly offended by.

“Bet you dont even pull, all the marridge rumors are so stupd.”

He would never admit out loud that it hit a nerve, but you wouldn’t need him to. It was evident. “You should see my wife, noob. She’s fucking gorgeous and plays better than whatever you pull.”

masterlist

/thank you @cottonlemonade for brainstorming with me<3

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS: Bongo Butts | 18+

I should be going to bed but I forgot to do laundry so here I am, writing more content that nobody asked for. Just like motorboating them...when I see them butts. Just. WHAM BAM. Thanks for coming to my TED talk. Also hope you know I had to research different types of dump trucks for this fic.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Ass Slapping, Crack Fic, Playing their asses like they're bongos, Zayne's lost sanity, Rafayel is scandalized as per usual, you mentally scar Raf, Xavier is confused as per usual, but is he confused?, he does get you back tho

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Xavier really did need to be more careful around you. He was the one who wanted you to date him first, in your defense. He chose you. And you wouldn't let a single day go by that you didn't prove why that was a horrible decision on his end. At the very least, he could claim that he was never bored with you around.

Today was supposed to be a lazy day. You two had off from all missions and were relaxing around the apartment since it was too damn hot to actually go outside. It also happened to be laundry day for Xavier, so he was dressed in his workout attire while his uniforms were being deep cleaned from all the dirt that accumulated on them during his missions.

Those shorts. They were so damn short. You'd even call it slutty because hot damn. His ass was just right there. It was staring at you. Hypnotizing you like it was a snake charmer. Your hands were already twitching in a grabby motion as you stared directly at those perfectly rounded globes on his backside. His beautiful bubble butt.

Xavier could feel your stare burning into him as he looked over his shoulder. He was just sun bathing by the window, laying on his stomach. So vulnerable to your upcoming attack.

"Something you need?" Damn, he already sounded suspicious. It might've been by how you were practically drooling with your hands up, ready to grab at him. It was a slight give away. He should've been more prepared though, because you lunged at him in that moment.

He only had time to turn slightly when you pushed him back on his stomach, sitting on his back to pin him down. Your hands took a fistful of his ass before you began hitting them with little force. Just watching them jiggle with every little slap of your hands.

You were cackling like a maniac as you continued your assault until he managed to maneuver you off of him. You were laughing, your cheeks flushed as you almost teared up. His entire face was red as he stared at you in horror. Then you saw a flash in his eyes and you knew you were done for.

He grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap. Then you felt a harsh slap at your ass, making you squeal. It was so much rougher than you had hit him. He stared at your back side and did it again.

"I can see why you found this so entertaining. I think I'll play with this for now."

"Unhand me you creatine!"

"I think not, if I let you go, who knows what else you'll do to me."

Zayne

Anyone who has ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on Akso's best Cardiac Surgeon knew that one thing was a pure fact. He had an ass. His doctor's coat did a good job concealing it, but he couldn't wear it all the time. You had even noticed a few nurses who would glance down at him when he passed them in the hallway.

It was something you knew very well about Zayne, and something the man seemed oblivious to. The man didn't just have a dump truck as a rear end, it was a dump trailer. That shit could keep a family fed for an entire year. It was so perfect in every way. You could grab onto one cheek with both hands and you still wouldn't be able to capture the entire thing.

Yet for some reason, Zayne had no idea just how badly you needed his ass. You would often times find yourself staring at it when you hung out, had an appointment, or were just lounging at the apartments. It plagued your thoughts. You were losing sleep over this. It wasn't good for your health.

"Zayne..." You said as you relaxed on the couch next to him. You two were catching up on a TV show that you started well over a month ago but hadn't had time to really enjoy it.

"Yes, did you need something?" Oh how sweet he was, always looking out for you.

"Yes actually...can you lay down on your stomach for me? I wanna do something." You said, knowing that this man would do just about anything you asked. He eyed you for a moment, contemplating if he wanted to play this game with you.

"Might I inquire as to why?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out."

Zayne took one more moment before giving in. He adjusted his position, laying down on his stomach just as you had asked. You decided to be subtle, leaning over his form and placing your hands on his shoulders at first. You gently caressed the skin there, massaging the muscles through his shirt as you slowly made your way down to the small of his back.

There it was. The prize. The holy grail of all asses. It was ripe for the taking as you looked over to see Zayne's closed eyes as he relaxed under your touch. You didn't hesitate. Your hands slapping down on his ass and grabbing it roughly.

His eyes shot open as he looked over at you. You licked your lips as you began gently slapping the flesh, watching the bounce as though it were made of jelly. It was a sight to behold and you couldn't help yourself. You had seconds before Zayne reacted and pulled your grubby little hands off him.

So you leaned your head in and bit down. His pants managed to cushion him from the force of your bite, but he sure as hell felt it. He sat up and grabbed you under the arms like a cat, stopping you in your tracks as you stared at him.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Playing with your nice ass."

"My butt is not a play thing."

You paused for a moment, eyes trailing down to the front of his pants, "If you aren't gonna let me slap your ass, can I play with your dick like it's a Bop-It?"

You watched Zayne go through five stages of grief. He sighed as he grabbed a blanket next to him, wrapping your entire body like a burrito so your limbs were no longer effective. He then sat back down on the couch with his legs open and placed you between, holding you tightly to his chest.

"I'm begging you, please be quiet for once and let's finish this show."

Rafayel

He should've known you were up to something if your gaze was anything to go off of. You had zeroed in on him the moment you had come over. Even during your little date as you two explored Linkon together, he knew something was up. Your not so subtle glances in his direction couldn't be considered innocent.

If only he knew why you were staring so hardcore. He had gotten a new pair of pants, or at least you assumed they were new. You were pretty sure you'd remember them with how good he looked at the moment. It was tight on him, accentuating his ass perfectly. You were pretty sure if you riled him it would also perfectly outline another aspect of him.

Still, you had a mission. Rafayel didn't know it yet, but the moment you had caught a glimpse of him this morning, you knew what had to be done. His muffins needed to be squished. His plump little cushions had to be properly admired and worshipped. You would be the one to happily give them the attention they deserved. An ass sculpted by the gods themselves were staring at you literally all day.

You closed the door to his home slowly, turning over to him. He was already heading to the living room. You slowly stalked behind him, and he could feel you were up to no good.

"Something caught your interest? I know I look good, but not even you normally stare at me this much."

"I just think you look particularly handsome today is all." As does his ass. You couldn't say that yet though, he would realize what your plans were if you verbalized it too early. Like a cat stalking a mouse, you followed him until he was in the living room. The moment he was by the couch you took action.

You rushed behind him and pressed down on the small of his back, making him stumble forward. He grabbed the edge of the couch, his body hunched over. Rafayel turned just in time to watch you drop down to your knees. Then he felt your hands harshly gripping his ass. Then the quick slaps in succession followed as you began laughing maniacally.

"Finally!" You said as you grabbed at them again. Rafayel finally reacted, rolling onto the couch to get away from your hands. You were practically panting as your hands twitched, "Come on Raf, lemme just squeeze em again."

"You are a psychopath." He said, hiding his ass from your view.

"I'm your psychopath though." Despite how horrified Rafayel looked, he was also amused by your antics. He grabbed at your arm, making you fall forward and your chest pressing against his own. His hands went to grab at your ass this time, squeezing them and laughing.

"You know, I think I'm seeing the appeal of this." He commented, his hands lazily hitting your ass cheeks like you had to him, although he was far more calm about it.

"See, it's amazing...now can I go back to playing with your butt? I wasn't done yet."

"I think not...although this has given me an idea. Do you mind if I paint your backside?"

"You wanna paint on my ass?"

"Perhaps."

"...I'll agree if you let me eat your-" Rafayel had never cut you off so quickly.

"Never mind."

The most accurate representation of what we're doing to these poor men. I will not be silenced. Their asses need to be slapped. And ate

[takenbypeter]

Chocolate Fixes Everything

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 1179

Sick fic for Willy Wonka, made this cause I’m sick again and I’ve become sick so often these past few months 🙃

Accepting requests for Willy only right now send me any requests plz I’m on a Wonka high rn

You couldn’t believe it. Your throat was itchy, your nose was sore. You could barely get past fifteen minutes without a horrendous cough flying out from the back of your throat. Your nose was stuffed and if it wasn’t stuffed, it was runny, which is why you kept a box of tissues close by. It wasn’t the fact you were sick that you couldnt believe, it was the fact that you were sick only a mere weeks ago and here you were, ill again. Typically this didn’t happen to you but recently it seemed like your immune system was against you, (maybe it was because of all the chocolate you had eaten recently but who knows).

While many of your friends had got the message of your sickness it seems like Willy wasn’t one of them.

“You wouldn’t believe the idea that just popped into my head!” Wonka shouted as he practically tossed your door open, your eyes shot wide as you suddenly became fully alert at the abrupt activity.

Willy on the other hand walked right past your bed which was positioned on the opposite side of the door, with his mind clearly focused on whatever his new idea was.

“Noodle and I were discussing and she had just reminded me of—“ his words were cut off and his upbeat pacing came to a halt when he finally realized you were still in bed.

His expressions seemed to relay curious, then sadness as his facial lines deepened. Without missing a beat he pulled up the wooden chair nearby. “What happened? You look horrible.”

A knowing smile tugged at your lips while you pulled your blanket further to your chin, “gee thanks, that’s just what everyone wants to hear when they’re sick.”

“You’re sick!? No that can’t be, I remember you being sick only two weeks ago.”

You nod acknowledging the fact while his face shifts into surprised? Or maybe excitement…? Stunned? It seemed like all of the above.

“Well you’re in luck,” he exclaimed scooting himself back towards the desk across the room, setting up his small briefcase factory on the table, “because I have something that’ll make you feel right as rain,” he stops tinkering with his case for a brief moment to shoot you a mischevious look, “chocolate rain.”

You rolled your eyes while he turned right around whipping a concoction together.

“Willy, I love your enthusiasm but chocolate can’t just make everything feel better.”

“Says who? Who says?”

“Medical doctors that’s who!”

“Oh doctors schmoctors,” he waves the concern off.

“Chocolate does fix everything. And this isn’t just regular old chocolate.”

Attention grabbed, you watch peculiarly as he pushes buttons and pours things in different areas of his case.

“Last time you got sick you felt awful for practically a week and a half, and I started making this since then,” his briefcase makes whirring noises as it gets to work mixing the ingredients. “Now let me ask you, what do you typically take when you have a sore throat?”

“A spoonful of honey with lemon?” You ask, unsure if that was the answer he was looking for, I mean many people do a variety of things once sick, but you took a shot in the dark anyway.

“Absolutely. But that feeling only lasts for a short time. But with this candy I designed, it lasts far, far longer.”

The machine stops and out pops a single candy, shaped simple and evenly square, as green as a lime. And with that candy in hand he returns back to you across the room.

“This is a Choc-well, because as soon as you eat it you’ll feel well,” you gave him an odd look, “the name hasn’t been hashed out yet.”

He motions for you to open your hand and he drops the small piece in your palm, to which you look at suspiciously. “It’s chocolate?”

“Yes. The outer layer is a milk chocolate, while the inside is a honey like substance from the Beezle-midge. And then inside that, is a tiniest drop of twang from a lime.”

“Beezle-midge?”

“It’s a small type of insect that usually travels in groups, except when separated and given the right incentive it secretes honey.”

You winced grossed out by the fact, “ew.”

“It’s good, trust me. Now try it.”

With one final motivating look from the boy you took the chocolate and popped it in your mouth.

“If you want it to really work suck on the chocolate, don’t chew,” he instructed just as you were about to take the first bite. But you did as told enjoying the chocolate. Little by little the chocolate layer disappeared into your mouth as the honey started to make its way to the front and Willy watched on as you ate the delicacy.

After a few moments of honey came the tiniest twang of flavor just as he said and just like that the candy was gone.

“So, how does it feel?” He asks and for a moment you’re not sure what he’s asking for.

“How does your throat feel?”

You oh-ed before closing your mouth in thought. The taste was on its way out but your throat felt much better, it no longer hurt from soreness and you didn’t feel any itchiness no or scratchiness.

“It feels…normal! Like it doesn’t even hurt. That’s amazing! How does that happen?”

“The honey from the Beezle-midge as it’s going down puts a small coat along your throat which lasts practically a whole day.”

“That’s splendid Willy, truly astounding!” You praise sitting up in bed. True you still had your other symptoms but at least you didn’t have to worry about your throat or coughing for now. Willy displayed a bashful smile at the compliments that he took to heart.

“Why didn’t you give this to me last time?” You asked curious as to why he just let you suffer, surely it couldn’t be just cause he forgot.

“Well actually…” he tilts his head back and forth before continuing, “you being sick last time is kind of the inspiration for it.”

This was not a new thing, Willy used many different people and experiences as inspiration, but he suddenly felt so shyly in telling you about yourself being his inspiration. Why? Was it because he didn’t know how you were going to react? He knew you would react well of course, you always did when it came to his creations.

“You made this…” you pointed to air essentially now that the chocolate was gone, “because of me?”

He nodded modestly, “last time you got sick, you missed out on a lot, and we missed you a lot in the factory.”

You grinned a toothy grin, “aww that’s sweet, and this chocolate is so cool!”

At your exclaim he felt relief, “good, I’m glad it’s working.”

That made you pause, “glad it’s working? What does that mean? You haven’t tested it before?” You asked worried.

“That’s not what I meant, geez. You do that one time,” he mumbled as he went back to his small briefcase factory.

[llamagoddessofficial]

In today's age of magic, shapeshifting has never been easier or more frequent. Have you started to notice your partner has some strange quirks? Does your husband, wife, spouse or significant other demonstrate some odd behaviours that you've only started to take real notice of after significant time together? Accidentally getting into a relationship with a nonhuman is more common than you might think. Here's a handy guide on some entities your partner might be, in case you feel you need to approach that topic.

1 - Fae Fae are a very diverse race, ranging wildly in appearance and power, and disguising themselves as humans is an everyday occurrence. You most likely grew up on stories about not giving your name to strangers, in case they are Fae - unknowingly marrying a Fae is shockingly common, the Bureau of Nonhuman Entities (BoNE) estimates that anywhere between 0.5 to 2% of human marriages actually include one or more Fae in disguise. Here are the signs your partner may be Fae.

A 'green thumb', very knowledgeable about highly local plants and fungi

Strong aptitude for poetry and instruments, a very beautiful singing voice. They highly enjoy writing songs for you, composing poems about you, and singing together.

Enjoys singing you to sleep.

Wild animals are completely unafraid of them, and often approach both of you

Loves gold jewellery, but abjectly refuses to wear anything silver.

Sees suspiciously well in the dark

Cannot get drunk - Fae are often immune to human poisons

Acquaintances of yours describe your partner as 'ethereal', 'enchanting', or 'hypnotising'. You may hear comments that your partner seems out of your league.

They place a very heavy emphasis on manners and politeness, and can quickly grow upset when social rules are not followed.

When frustrated, they use swear words you've never heard before

Fae are frequently attracted to neurodivergent humans. If you're neurodivergent the likelihood is even higher.

2 - Deity Again, more common than you might think. Deities both minor and major often find themselves attracted to humans, and stories of these romances are baked into our histories. Your spouse may be the God of anything from a very specific kind of flower, to a certain weather pattern, to (rarely) something very big like knowledge or the ocean itself. They're harder to spot than Fae, often indistinguishable from a normal human thanks to their many years observing people.

The biggest clue is that they don't notice pain, and never seem to get hurt. They'll have invulnerability or high resistance to things such as burning, freezing, drowning, cutting, and blunt force trauma. They might not notice they've put their hand on a hot burner, for example.

Speaks in strangely archaic language, often misunderstanding modern trends and linguistics. Oddly knowledgeable around ancient subjects.

They may randomly smell like blood and/or smoke. This is often a sign they've just received an offering, and the intensity of the smell is stronger with more powerful deities.

They can immediately tell when someone is lying, usually without giving a cause for the knowledge.

The two of you share pet names of a celestial nature, such as "star", "nova", "sun", "moon", "comet".

When upset, they have a highly commanding voice that can shake glass or cause bizarre events to happen (ie; mist indoors, words on a page scrambling, lights changing colour).

Heightened interest in the topic of immortality - particularly your views on it. Frequently asking you 'how you would feel' if you would live forever.

3 - Dragon A very rare (but not impossible) phenomena, most people have no idea that dragons are intelligent and emotionally complex beings that can very convincingly disguise themselves. Living in caves isn't for everyone and loneliness is not just a human feeling.

Very wealthy, but with no clear sign of where the wealth originates from. They may say their money comes from a 'long-term investment'.

Highly passionate lover. Deeply devoted and affectionate, sometimes to the point of it being inappropriate in public. Enjoys big displays of affection and physical intimacy. May need to be told to slow down.

Abandonment issues. This often stems from the highly violent childhood many dragons experience, and the frequent loss of loved ones to dragonslayers. They might be reluctant to be separated too long.

Has a particular item they enjoy hoarding. This could be clothes, trinkets, plushies, shoes, anything at all. You may find that they're very easygoing about you touching their collection, maybe they even actively make you part of the hoard. They may dress you in collected clothes, sort their collected plushies around your bed, or ask you to wear jewellery they've found. But they'll become extremely agitated and aggressive if anyone other than you tries to interact with 'their things'.

Prone to anger, quick-tempered.

Frequently concerned about your health, seems to perceive you as delicate and easily injured.

Please remember that if your partner IS nonhuman, they almost certainly didn't intentionally lie. Human relationships will seem very fast to other entities. Many transform into humans for a fun year out, find themselves head over heels in love, and then can't figure out the right time to tell their human lover the truth. Try not to hold it against them, everyone has their quirks!

[fandomfuntimem]

Dp x Dc or just Dp things I (personally) want to see more of.

Just some stuff I've seen and really liked but never see enough of.

Danny is very casually a genius and/or skilled (engineering, gymnastics, really any skill you pick):

There isn't enough of it tbh. I dont think people realise just how smart and skilled he is. Being a ghost probably made him very flexible and gave him extra abilities the average human may not have. Also he comes from a family of scientists, yeah maybe up against them he doesn't seem smart, but being "smart" comes in different forms. More often than not the ability to be smart comes from your ability to pick up on things, retain information, understand information, and use that information accordingly. Danny does that, especially with his villains. He even finds outside the box ways to defeat his villains. Like tricking Freakshow into becoming a ghost.

I just think its under utilized. A lot of Teen heros are geniuses but no one ecknowledges it. Hell, you can make it that Danny doesn't even realise just how smart he is. He doubts it and often thinks he's one of the dumber people in the room. But when sleep deprived and running on a cup of coffee he can solve a problem he hasn't even seen before the konk out for an hour.

Danny has BEEF with the JL or isn't outright a fan:

In a lot of fics the JL (especially Batman) are huge hypocrites. Like they'll barge into Amity trying to solve problems that don't even effect them, screw things up more, then offer Danny more training. Hello????? You guys being there caused the problem???? Then, in other things Batman preaches about territory and Danny will get threatened or treated with suspicion for even stepping foot NEAR Gothem, but then barges into his territory like its his buisness.

Let Danny call them out. Let him point out that everything has been fine untill they showed up. Let him get MAD. This is HIS territory, HIS haunt, HIS people. These guys have done nothing for him! Why should he accept their help when their help only makes things worse? In fics where they help him because he needed it and ended up in Gotham let him be suspicious and careful. He doesn't need to be vivasected or hurt to be warry of the crime fighting furries he just met.

Mans has the experience to know you can't trust anyone untill they prove you can.

Danny should be casually overpowered and spooky:

This isn't even he has to be experienced. He is so used to his powers he doesn't realise how scary it is. He will casually stop a punch from superman, laugh, quipe, then punch back.

He accidentally breaks stuff, walks through things, glows, its so normal for him. He apologizes and does it again because he forgot. He genuinly has no idea how strong he is, he just knows he needs to be soft on humans.

Danny and Phantom are very different personalities:

I'm not saying they're two different people. They have the same mind same person. But the way they act is so different. Danny is grumpy, quiet, whimpy. Danny is a loser, and everyone knows it. Phantom, on the other hand, is confident, he jokes, smiles, makes a game out of his struggles, he's strong. Phantom is just a good guy. Everyone (minus others) loves him!

This happens because Danny is more comfortable as Phantom or Vise Versa. Sertant trates carry over, they're nerds, they're smart, they enjoy a good pun, they're sassy. But because Danny is a loser everyone sees it as lame, but with Phantom its endearing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

None of this means you need to get rid of silly nerdy Danny. You can have that but all these other things ad depth to his character. Hes smart but not confident, he's kind but not naive, he's powerful but not violent, and he finds comfort in the fact no one knows him.

Idk. I'm not a big fanfic writer so i thought i would just share and see what others do with it.

[sunderwight]

Time travel fic where Vader gets the chance to go back in time, any time, and change his history.

So he goes back to when he was still a slave boy living on Tatooine with his mother.

He avoids the Jedi. Qui-Gon doesn't get the money for the parts they need, so the Queen doesn't reach Coruscant in a timely fashion, and the ousting of the Trade Federation is delayed. Which sucks ass for Naboo. But, on the other hand, the confrontation with Maul happens smack dab in the middle of the desert, so Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan actually overpower him together and neither of them dies.

After the Jedi leave, Anakin uses his future knowledge and expertise in cybernetic implants to remove his and his mother's slave chips. A tragic accident befalls Watto, and a fire in the junk shop destroys most of his records, so no one who inherits the remainder has any knowledge of slaves (or anything else) missing from the inventory.

Shmi knows that something has changed. But Ani's always been a miracle, strange and unknowable in many ways, and yet still her son regardless. She goes along with it, even though she's apprehensive about affording water, shelter, and food as they are.

She needn't have worried.

At every turn, Anakin miraculously seems to uncover things they need, or opportunities for them to explore. Shmi finds decent work in various establishments -- cleaning garages and hangers, and cantinas after closing, mostly. There always seems to be someone willing to hire her on for a while, even if they already seem to have staff. Ani works his magic with scrap parts and whatever better pieces they can afford, when they have enough to spare (which is surprisingly often), and sells contraptions to the Jawas, junk dealers, or other interested parties. If he makes and sells some weapons to some enterprising bounty hunters or mercenaries, Shmi doesn't discern it, and Anakin doesn't volunteer the information.

But mostly, he works in prosthetics.

There's a pretty big demand for such in the Outer Rim, especially Tatooine, where the idea of anyone hopping into a Bacta tank is even less realistic than the idea of public swimming pools. People are losing limbs all the time, and good prosthetics are hard to come by.

Anakin makes good prosthetics. Even with limited parts and visible frustration, by the time he's thirteen, most of the planet knows where you go if you need an "extra hand", so to speak.

It's not long before the Hutts take an interest in monopolizing the resource, and seeing what else this talented young mechanic can build. Even if most Hutts rarely need prosthetics themselves, they like to be in charge of a hot commodity, after all. And it's hardly unheard of for them to lose an arm or two either.

Shmi worries. Anakin doesn't. Somehow, all of the local crime lords start to be met with unfortunate accidents. Their relatives and allies investigate, of course, and no one really believes in coincidences in the Outer Rim. But nothing turns up either. Falling cargo, suicides, misfiring weapons, heart attacks, choking on food, slipping and falling into sarlacc pits, it's all stuff that does happen. It just usually doesn't happen so often, to such a specific group of people, within such a short amount of time.

When Anakin is fifteen, Sidious sends people to fetch him. They approach him with sweet offers and seemingly-generous gifts, at first, as if it's not the most suspicious way they could go about it. His mother too, but it's such a stupid effort that Shmi finds them suspect even without prompting, and senses something off about them. Anakin's mother might not be nearly as Force sensitive as he is, but she is, and she doesn't like Palpatine's people even if she doesn't know who they are.

The next ones just try and abduct him. It's at least less insulting in its directness. They find themselves falling afoul of the many dangers of Tatooine instead. Such a risky place, people disappear out here all the time. Mind the womp rats and the krayt dragons.

Finally, Sidious goes himself.

His ship suffers a terrible malfunction upon its descent towards a planetside dock. A true tragedy. The Chancellor will be missed.

History remembers Anakin Skywalker as a footnote in the development of several innovative prosthetic enhancements, and a semi-obscure abolitionist who also advocated for the rights of clones.

[l-in-the-light]

Luffy's and Law's similarities

Because people always talk only about their differences, time to do the uno reverse! You might be surprised how many there are, actually.

Snapping at exactly same thing.

Snapping at same stuff again, because sometimes they share exactly the same brain cell. Even their face expressions are exactly the same in both examples lol.

Whenever Law actually loosens his guard, he reacts in exact same ways as Luffy does.

They both have a very similar experience with their mentors sacrificing themselves for them and same selfblaming reaction. This serves mostly as a prologue because we will compare how child Law and child Luffy behaved.

Both were reckless brats with very wrong self-harming ideas to get what they want.

They hate "dirty tricks" and being lied to. And easily lash out.

Their initial reaction to making fun of someone tripping/being pushed on the floor or making fun of anyone. Also standing there in exact same pose with their fists clenched.

"I will go find a real role model", same vibes here honestly.

"You will pay for this" mentality. They were also both literally thrown which endagered their lives and they both can't believe it's actually happening, that anyone would do something like that. Also bonus points for swearing child Luffy haha.

Both consider some people to be just total scums that deserve punching. Bad guys should be taught a lesson. Law at least managed to land a stab, so 1:0 for him.

This is intriguing. This is the last time Law asks someone for help. And last time Luffy asks someone to help him. Both seem to be convinced "asking for help" caused their loved ones to get hurt, so you will never hear them do it again. The only difference here is Law is asking to help Corazon, while Luffy is the one who needs the help.

Later on Luffy is taught to ask for help by Vivi in Drum Kingdom, but he isn't asking for himself, but to help Nami. Meanwhile Law never again uses the polite words. The most he is capable of is to ask Cavendish "tanomu" which is more like "I'm counting on you".

Both sit in same pose whenever Law isn't trying to impersonate Corazon's style (yes, Law mimicks Cora a lot, also in the way he walks). At least once he slipped and sat in the way he found naturally comfortable instead and it was exactly same way as Luffy's preferred sitting position. What a curious coincidence.

Another funny thing about them is that they both like to wear exactly same type of shoes they used to wear as a child, Luffy the sandals, and Law his dark boots. It's not really that common thing in the manga, for example, Nami and Zoro didn't stick to same type of shoes they used to wear when they were kids.

They also sleep in exactly same position, the infamous T-pose. For comparison, the rest of the Strawhats all have their own different sleeping positions (first from the right is Usopp ofc lol).

They also match each other's pace pretty well. "Let's go, Torao!" and "Ike!" as Law's answer which literally means just "Go!", because Traffy is ready too, no need to stall back.

And finally my favourite:

If Law wasn't under Corazon's "calm" spell, would his laugh sound familiar? Perhaps would it be "shishishi" we know so well? Of course that's the last time Law laughs like that, so we can't compare him laughing when he's an adult. Families in One Piece often share similar laughs, it seems. Unless you're a devil fruit user, that also changes your laughter apparently hm.

There's probably even more similarities between their behaviour, thinking patterns and expressions than I managed to find. I find it suspicious considering those two did not grow up together, so why are they so similar when they're both children?

I dunno if whole D. clan is an actual family, but I think Law and Luffy definitely had a shared ancestor and probably not that far in the past. Very curious since they're from East Blue and North Blue, the two seas mentioned to be the hardest to travel from one another.

Many people speculated Dragon isn't related to Garp or Luffy because they don't really look that much alike, but if you compare Monkey, Trafalgar and Gol family members together you can start to see some pattern emerging: they all have naturally black ruffled hair Potter-family style (you're welcome for that comparison you never wanted to notice and now you can't unsee haha). I wonder if Joyboy will also be revealed of sporting similar style of hair.

[eve-dawntower]

What we gathered so far:

POSSIBLE SPOILERS BELOW:

Xavier, Jeremiah and some others seem like they are aliens. I guess the emoji that Xavier often use makes sense now.

Xavier and the people from wherever he came from (Philos) needed MC for something. It might have something to do with the Aether Core implanted on her heart or maybe there's something more? It is mentioned that only "she" can save them.

It seems that Xavier and his people are divided about their goals. Xavier called the people on the other side as "traitors" yet the people on the other side think that Xavier is the "traitor". Whatever the two groups goal are, it has something to do with MC.

I'm honestly confused about the anecdote: "When Shooting Stars Falls". The anecdote is retelling a story about someone (which is possibly MC) who lives in Philos. According to the anecdote, 214 years have passed since the birth of the planet and 214 years since the Earth's demise. And then we have the entry on the note. It says, Philos is the core of a star and is no longer reacting to energy so it's probably dead already. So what's what? The chronological order is kinda confusing. What died first? Earth or Philos?

Lumiere is obviously Xavier. So yeah, he's the same person who saved MC a long time ago.

Jeremiah was about to say, "Long time no see" to MC but cut himself off and instead said, "Welcome to Philo." Was it because he met MC when "Lumiere" saved her? Or maybe he already met MC further back in Philos. Also, the way Jeremiah treats MC is like she's a VIP. And there's also another curious thing. This thing they call the "Non-intervention Principle".

Jeremiah mentioned that their presence on Earth has always been a mistake. Does it have something to do with the Deepspace Tunnel? Are they lost? Did they just accidentally fall on Earth or something?

Sorry but the possibility of Xavier betraying MC is high. He mentioned "Until that day comes, no one should even think about getting close to her. The same goes for me." So what's going to happen when that "day" comes? Is he going to rip the Aether Core out of her chest or what?!

Zayne is not yet suspicious as of now. But what does grandma mean when she said, that by helping MC, Zayne is also helping himself? What are you hiding, Doctor Zayne? Hmm?

And now to Rafayel. Well, Rafayel is a merman from Lemuria, he met MC when they were kids and it seems that he's somehow connected with some bad people.

Rafayel mentioned that the "fish" that they truly wanted haven't fallen yet and I feel like he's talking about Xavier/Lumiere.

As of now, Rafayel is the most suspicious among the three. Much more suspicious than Xavier.

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Prompt #7

Robin is heretofore thought to be alone when he swings his katana behind him, almost catching the Adam's apple of his mother's new lover.

"Whoopsie!" Danny says, taking an agile step back, as if Robin's slice was a slip of the hand rather than a deliberate and likely fatal attack.

"What are you doing here," Robin demands, mask hiding the momentary widen of his eyes. No one sneaks up on the heir of Batman, least of all his mother's latest toy.

"I wanted to chat, just you and I," Danny says, as if they are standing on a sidewalk and not the rooftop of a forty floor building in the dead of night, Robin in full costume. "I know you were kinda caught off guard yesterday night."

"I was not caught off guard."

This is a lie. Yesterday night when Talia had appeared at the latest Wayne Charity Ball as the date of Daniel Fenton, an up-and-coming name in renewable energy, Father's dumbfounded look had been nothing less than genuine.

And even the Annoyance had choked on his non-alcoholic champagne when Talia had instructed Damian to greet his "new stepfather".

"Talia," Danny had said levelly, running a hand over hers placed delicately in the crook of his arm, "Remember how we were going to break this gently?"

"Darling, Al Ghuls do not require a gentle break," Talia had replied.

"What is happening," Tim had quietly muttered, squinting at the contents of his glass suspiciously. "What."

Tonight Danny is as calm as he was the previous night, looking amused if anything. Damian resists the urge to take another swing at him. Mother would probably not like that. Danny's affections towards her had seemed quite genuine, his eyes often on her with a light Damian reluctantly recognized from Grayson's many dalliances. And dare he say it, Mother had seemed to reciprocate.

"My mistake. Still," Danny says, "I was hoping to speak with you alone."

"I do not require another father," Damian says promptly. This is true. He already has a father, and a Grayson, and the other annoyances, and Alfred. "And you should not be speaking to a...minor...without their guardian present." He does not like saying this, as he is fully capable of being his own guardian, but Dick had been adamant once updated by Tim and Barbara that should Damian come in contact with Danny alone he was to say as such. He had extracted a promise from Damian after a high-pitched lecture via video call going on nigh an hour. Damian had been waterboarded, twice, and would have preferred a third time to one of Grayson's seminars on "stranger danger" and "parental custody". It had prevented him from going on patrol with Batman, who had left shortly after the gala, presumably to meet with his mother.

Batman had not succeeded, returning without a word. Red Hood, cackling, had pulled up behind him to congratulate Damian on his new "daddy" and loudly tell Oracle how Bruce had gotten an eyeful. An eyeful of what, Damian wasn't sure, and asking only made Jason laugh harder and Dick yell from the Batcomputer.

"Good thing I'm speaking to Robin, then," Danny says with a grin. Damian updates his mental file on the man to less of a goody two-shoes than previously thought. "And like I said last night, I'm not here to overstep."

"Then?" Robin asks crossing his arms.

"You and I are a lot alike, actually," Danny says. Despite the chill of the night, wind whipping at his hair, he seems very comfortable in his t-shirt and jeans.

Damian scoffs and Danny holds his hands up.

"Okay, I deserved that one. What I mean is, and bear with me here, I had a lot going on when I was your age, and my parents weren't always super...present. Their work kept them pretty distracted as we got older and more independent."

The background check they'd run indicated Danny's parents were scientists, his sister a therapist and women's self-defense instructor. The man himself had nothing remarkable on his record beyond a public intoxication charge in his early twenties, but that hardly meant anything. Talia Al Ghul's public record was nothing short of exemplary, one of the many facts that had made the judge reluctant to grant Bruce full custody.

"And listen, I know the way I was raised in the midwest is vastly different from your upbringing, and comparing the two would likely be condescending and a disservice to you, but I also know that while I liked my independence, I wish I had been able to talk to my parents more when things got tough."

"I fail to understand what you are saying," Damian says flatly. "Are you instructing me to speak to my parents as you believe I am having a hard time? And your basis for this incredibly incorrect hypothesis is you were once a teenager whose parents were neglectful? Also, this is certainly overstepping."

Danny's smile is sheepish. "It is, isn't it?"

Damian turns to leave.

"What I'm trying to say," Danny says loudly. "Is that I intend to stay in Gotham. I have some things I need to see to here so I'll be here a while.

"And this is important to me because--"

"Talia will be staying." When Damian continues to stare at him blankly, he clarifies: "With me. Here. I mean, we definitely will go on a honeymoon at some point, even though I'm not sure we're actually married no matter what Talia says about that ceremony--"

"Tt. Grandfather will never let Mother simply galavant around."

"You don't need to worry about Ra's any more," Danny says, straightening. His voice is firm and certain. "He won't be bothering you or your mother."

"That's impossible," Damian says sharply.

"You can ask Talia yourself." Danny pulls out a card. "This is the hotel we're staying at. Room 805. You are right that you definitely shouldn't come without your father's permission, but if he's alright with it please feel free."

Danny takes a step closer, and if Damian's quick grip on his katana bothers him he doesn't show it.

"I mean it Robin. I'm not saying Talia's going to petition for joint custody, and I'll make sure Batman knows that as well. I just want you to know she's here. If you ever want to...see her."

He holds out the card until Damian plucks it from his hand with a growl.

"And also, Damian?"

"What?" Damian snaps.

"Your mom talks about you all the time. I think she'd like to see you too."

"Tt." Damian says, eyes darting down to the card. When they flick back up, Danny is gone.

Damian pulls a quick 360, sword drawn, but the man is nowhere to be seen.

"Robin," Batman says in his comm. "Need you on the west docks."

His comm line was open the whole time, he realizes, but Oracle is uncharacteristically silent. A further investigation shows no time has passed since Danny arrived at the roof. Only the card clenched in his fist indicates he was ever there.

"On my way," Damian says, sheathing his weapon.

Hmph. Of course. His mother is no fool, least of all in her selection of lovers.

Upon arriving at the cave later that night, Damian exits the clock at the rear of the group.

"Father," he says as he clears the threshold. "I wish to spend time with Mother and Stepfather at their earliest convenience. Perhaps tomorrow after school."

Everyone stops still, turning to look back at him. Tim pauses mid-stretch, Steph's jaw drops, and Cassie smiles pleasantly at him. Even Alfred, a tray of freshly baked cookies in hand, blinks at him.

Bruce's mouth opens and closes, wordlessly.

"Absolutely not!" Dick Grayson screeches from the other end of the hallway, dufflebag in hand. Behind him Jason grasps the doorway, doubled over in laughter.

[deadsetobsessions]

Between the whole “clone trying to kill her original version” thing and the whole “trying to find herself after being freed from the millionaire fruit loop halfa” thing, Danielle “Ellie” Phantom figured that she’d fit right in with Gotham.

They’ve got shades, a concerning amount of undead, and the people there seem to have traumatic backstories galore. Perfect.

Danny might die again if she told him where she’s staying, though. So she won’t tell him!

Ellie touched down in an alley near the first bus stop into Gotham, returning to the visible spectrum and returning her intangibility. She wanted to explore everything, and where better to start than the entrance of Gotham?

She slips out of the alley, walking past the terrified looking tourists. Ellie ignores the smell of soot they gave off, attributing correctly that it came from the explosion she heard before she approached Gotham. The city, like any other major city, was littered with trash and odd bits of metal. There’s graffiti too, but less so than the sunnier cities. The clouds- and smog, because Ellie could smell it miles away from the city- that obscured the sky left the city in a chilling atmosphere. Hazy. Like, a graveyard at dawn. Perfect for someone like Ellie.

It’s so different from Amity, stone where she dreaded plaster, gloom and doom where she dreaded seeing sunshine she couldn’t reach. 

Ellie wandered, under bridges, and in between paths. She danced through shootouts, glides past brawls, laughs when pick pockets find their hands empty after bumping into her.

She gets a coffee and one of those delicious lemon bars, with Vlad’s money. Hers, now that Tucker’s gotten his hands on Vlad’s inner systems. The barista gives her a suspicious look, but she brings out her strongest midwestern accent and the look melts into exasperation. And pity, but Ellie doesn’t really care about that. She “ooh’s and ahh’s” at the grimy stone, the gothic inspired architecture that Sam would kill to experience, goggles at the boarded up buildings. There’s a cathedral or two or five, she doesn’t remember, but the pretty glass seems to be broken at most of them. She wonders what happened. Then she remembers that there are vigilantes here, and concludes that she has to remember to look up more often. A giant clock-tower. A district with less people and fancier homes. A university! She might apply after she’s done traveling around and have gotten her GED.

Her shoes pound the pavement, something about the effort it takes to take a step burns in her soul. Yes, this is what it means to be free. She kicks the knees of two would be robbers in as she passes them on her way to purchasing three bars of the best chocolates she’s had in her short existence.

The cashier looks at her like she’s odd. Oh, well.

And then night falls. Ancients, does the city truly come alive. There are screams and sirens and surges in ectoplasm that balances her essence of being out. Ellie, with a new pep in her step, follows the trail of ectoplasm right into an area called “Crime Alley.”

“It feels almost like… a haunt…?”

Ellie hums and keeps walking. Maybe this is the territory of one of the undead Gothamites…?

She’s got a bit of Danny’s saving people thing after all, because the three bars of candy on her is gone in minutes to children with hollow cheek and dead eyes. 



Ellie startles backwards as a body slams onto the pavement in front of her, barely missing the risen steps of the building they were in front of.

“Oh.” She says. Because this is one of the Undead. And he’s Red Hood. Danny is going to flip.

“Run- run, kid.”

Ellie tilts her head. “And why would I do that?”

“You’re gonna get hurt, brat!” The man barks, and winces as his ribs shuttered. The red helmet’s tinny voice doesn’t intimidate her nor does it hide the concern and fear bleeding into the guy’s body language.

“Not really?”

And with that, Ellie slams her elbow into Goon 1, knocking him straight into another building. Goon 2 tries to grab her and she phases out of his reach, floating upwards and slamming her fist into his face. He joins Goon 1 in decorating that building’s new mural, called the two dumbasses that picked a fight with a wandering Ellie.

Hood watches her, cradling his ribs.

“You a meta?” He grumbled at her, wheezing as she crouched down and poked his sides. He smacks her hand away.

Ellie, who has clearly spent too much time near Danny, replies, “Being dead is a medical condition.” without missing a single beat.

Hood, on the other hand, misses several beats.

“What?”

Ellie barrels on, amused at his fumble. “Did you know you died?”

Hood looks at her and Ellie swears she can see the dumbfounded expression.

Ellie laughs, free and sharp. Yes, Gotham is nothing like Amity.

[cinnamonest]

In desperate need of older reader content

:(((

//Big age gap with ambiguously aged teenage boys, cheating on NPC husband, dubcon (reader is kinda consenting for once lmao but the first time is questionable in how it begins)

I've had this modern AU idea rotting in my brain for AGES anon, I hesitated to make it but you’ve given me courage, bless you anon

Consider Xingqiu + Chongyun and the sweet older lady that lives in the neighborhood… a neglected housewife with a husband who’s always absent, always on “work trips” and being generally suspicious and never pays you any attention…

You have the typical boys-next-door of the neighborhood — well, they're not actually right next door, one lives a few houses down, the other in that fancy rich neighborhood adjacent to yours — but the two come around your house quite a lot. It's kind of sweet how you've gotten to watch them grow up, you remember when they were very little, running by your house with bikes or kites or whatever they were playing with, and watch them slowly get bigger and older, hear their distant voices chattering get deeper and lower over time.

Sometimes you wave, they wave back.

They come to recognize you. They pass by when you're doing yardwork. You exchange a hey, boys! with a mutually enthusiastic hi miss!, and occasionally, you tell them to be safe because it's supposed to rain soon or because it's getting dark, met with a don't worry, we will! reassurance of some kind.

They're so cute, so endearing. You go out of your way to say hi each time you see them.

Eventually, you finally have a direct, up-close interaction — it's a particularly hot day, you call out to them to ask if they want something cold to drink, and they gladly take you up on the offer.

They're so cute, you think. Teenagers now, bright-eyed and full of that youthful sort of excitement and bliss, not yet old enough to be worn down by the difficulties or mundaneness of life nor have a damper put on their overly-positive outlook on life and the world. You find yourself smiling as you ask them questions about school and what they like to do and their plans for the future and they respond gushing with visible excitement and energy.

And then, they swing by the next day, sheepishly making their way up to you to ask if you have any more. You laugh and smile and tell them of course.

The same thing happens the next day, and the next day. You go out of your way to get some teen-boy-approved type of snacks the next time you go grocery shopping, which end up rapidly disappearing from your fridge and pantry.

You learn them, their similarities and differences, their interests and strengths. Xingqiu is more the academic type, Chongyun is more involved in athletics. You listen to them excitedly ramble about the “important” things going on in their lives, high-school level drama and such, the sort that seems to be of a much greater significance and weight to kids their age, who have no frame of reference for anything more serious than that. You give exaggerated reactions of awe and pride when they boast about their achievements, and it does warm your heart to see that that always makes them more excited to keep going on about it.

With that, you develop a very… wholesome sort of relationship. They start coming by more often.

And more and more often. Nearly each day. It's a very strange situation, yet it just feels natural because you get accustomed to it — instead of going back to their own homes, they head to your place right after they're let out from school. You feed them (they're teenage boys, they're eating more in one sitting than you do in an entire day), talk to them, you've even helped with homework every now and then, for subjects you're knowledgeable in. They seem to really love coming over to your house, and, well, you're often very lonely, and you appreciate them as well.

The neighbors have all seen them going to your place each day, some of them jokingly ask how “your boys” are doing. It’s endearing, really, and always makes you smile.

You know it's not exactly normal, but at the same time, if they trust you and depend on you and cling to you so much, they must not have another source for that — from what they've said, both have very busy and/or somewhat emotionally distant parents, which makes you feel bad for them, tugs at your heart, makes you feel like you should be sure to be there for them and be available when they need you. Like you have a responsibility to be there.

Which leads to you taking on perhaps an even greater role of keeping tabs on them, being responsible for them. You even get a call from the school once when one gets sick, asking you to come pick him up, which he thanks you for repeatedly, but still doesn't seem to treat the matter as quite as unusual as you feel it is. Regardless, you find yourself taking him to your house to recover rather than his own, at his own request.

They're almost a little too comfortable, but it's more comical to you than anything — they reach a point where now, they just come sauntering into your house after school, backpacks dumped onto the floor and flopping onto your couch as if it were their own house. One time when you were home alone, you went out to get groceries, only to nearly have a heart attack when greeted with a hello! as soon as you stepped through your front door when you came back. Turns out they figured out you keep a spare key under the welcome mat… they help you put the groceries away, though. Such sweet boys.

Yes, they’re sweet, helpful, bright-eyed, energetic… even if sometimes, they get a little strange.

Nothing that isn't standard teen boy stuff, though, you tell yourself. You find evidence of their presence in oddly private areas of your home — your bedroom door hanging open when you're pretty sure you shut it earlier, an open drawer, missing clothes, so on and so on.

It's odd, but you don't exactly know how to really go about confronting them, the idea feels awkward and uncomfortable. Not to mention, doubt and paranoia cloud your reasoning — what if there's a perfectly legitimate reason, and then you ruin things by making false accusations? What if you're imagining it? You ultimately decide to try and shake off the creeping feeling of something being wrong.

Worst case scenario, they're being… weird. But teenage boys are like that, aren't they? Raging hormones and all. It's a little unpleasant, but you're sure they'll mature out of such behaviors, if that really is the case. It's nothing too serious.

And then they start getting touchy.

When they help you carry things in (so sweet of them, isn’t it?), you notice that over time, they grow comfortable with your arms and hands brushing against each other. They stand closer to you when leaning over to see what you’re making whenever you’re running around in the kitchen (of course, usually accompanied by asking if it's for them or if they can have some), shoulders bumping against yours. They scoot their chair much closer to yours when you’re helping them with their homework, eventually to where your thighs touch.

Waving goodbye when they go home at the end of the day turns into big hugs. Both of them do so in a way that you just can't shake the feeling of being somehow wrong. Xingqiu pulls your chest against his perhaps just a bit too firmly. Chongyun holds his hands lower down on your back than you feel comfortable with. But then they both flash you such sweet smiles and promise to see you later, and your momentary concerns feel trivial.

Your naive belief in their innocence begins to fall apart, though, because Chongyun is significantly less skilled at keeping up feigned ignorance.

The idea that you were being paranoid, or imagining things, quickly begins to fade from your mind when you notice how blatantly sheepish he begins to become as time goes by. He stops looking you in the eye, stammers and fidgets and squirms when trying to speak to you. As if feeling guilty, as if having done something wrong.

Xingqiu is much better at it — almost scarily so. If it were just him, you'd never notice a thing, and you’re not sure how to feel about that realization. You’re pretty sure he could do something right in front of you and then convince you you did it instead, with how flawlessly he can change his tone and expressions and answer questions in ways that not only fail to answer, but give the impression of an answer, then distract away to another topic before you can even think enough to realize what a non-answer the response he gives is.

You only caught onto it one time, and then when you started to think back, you realized how many times he’s done the exact same thing in the past, all without you ever realizing… those rich business families must have some kind of genetic predisposition to conversation manipulation. Still, it’s nothing malicious, he didn’t do anything wrong, you’re pretty sure at least… he just seems to steer away from anything having to do with the odd occurrences of things that go missing or were different from how you left them.

Still, it reaches a point where you really can’t delude yourself.

But it's nothing serious. It's not enough to warrant saying anything. That’s what you tell yourself.

Because if it were that serious, you’d have to say something. And if you say something, well, that’s… hard. Awkward. Difficult to summon the gall for, especially towards two young, innocent boys who have never done anything really bad to you, who have always been so helpful and sweet, who are just being the way boys that age are, right? It’s ultimately harmless.

You’d ruin things between you all, you’d hurt them. You can’t have that. They’re too precious. They keep you company, they help you out, you’ve gotten so used to their presence in your life, you can’t have that ruined. Thus, you say nothing. Yes, it’s all just normal, it’s no big deal. Soon enough they’ll start getting involved with girls their age anyway, and stop messing with you so much.

Except there's one more issue... that thing where they seem to really not like your husband.

The moment he comes up, they both take a negative attitude. Granted, one day you do end up more or less breaking down as you find yourself venting and lamenting your miserable marriage — how he’s never home, how he’s always doing suspicious things that hurt your heart, how he never treats you to anything, never remembers anniversaries or birthdays, never says anything nice to you… you only pause and start stammering apologies when you notice how quiet they both get, but they insist it’s fine, and follow up by muttering about how you deserve better… you smile and pat their heads.

You really meant the whole thing as mere venting, so it makes you feel bad when, seeing as your birthday falls very shortly after that conversation, they both get you things on said birthday. Chongyun’s is something he made himself, albeit on a very low budget, Xingqiu’s is the inverse, some piece of jewelry that’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever owned… and they remembered even when your husband didn’t. It makes you feel guilty, like maybe you baited them by inducing their pity, but they both seem so happy to give you something, and even when you say they didn’t have to do that, they insist they wanted to… maybe it’s alright, then. They were already sweet to you too, of course, but you notice that they give you compliments and such more frequently too.

Regardless, you notice that even before your complaining, they both sort of scowl when your husband is mentioned, even more so after you reveal the rocky state of your marriage. There’s an unmistakable resentment in some comments they make — you start talking about how you’re worried that you spent too much on groceries and will make him mad, to which you get a scoff and a ‘well who cares what he thinks?’, or, when you’re worried the house isn’t presentable enough for your husband coming home, you get a shrug and mutter, ‘he can just deal with it…’

Your husband doesn’t exactly care for them either. You mention it to him because you feel you should, although apparently neighbors already informed him of the matter. You get a few gruff comments about how bizarre and inappropriate it is that you’re letting two teen boys just sit around in your house. Every now and then, you get snapped at in irritation about a piece of a wrapper left on the sofa or a pencil left on the table, how it’s because you let those damn teenagers stay in your house, how you’re draining his hard-earned money on feeding them, so on and so on.

They only actually interact once, seeing as the man gets home so late each day that it’s usually long after both boys have left for the day, but one time their presence does overlap — it’s very awkward. You didn’t hear the car pull up to the house, so when he comes walking in, the two boys quickly get their things together and scurry out the door, all without exchanging a word, although the tension and glaring is palpable. You’re reminded that he tolerates you having them there, and that he had better not come home to find them in his house so late again. You nod your head — but you still let them stay fairly long each day… now they make no attempt to hide their disgust each time you mention your spouse.

Their increasing negativity towards him, their increasing affection towards you — there’s a sort of tension that builds over time. Every party involved feels it, you’re certain, one of those things where everyone knows what’s happening and no one acknowledges it out loud.

By the time it happens, they're so comfortable that it's practically nonchalant, and for you, well, somehow you don’t feel particularly surprised. It feels more like something you knew was going to happen, but maybe pretended in the forefront of your mind that you didn’t know, that it wasn’t inevitable.

Likewise, it happens so quickly that you barely register anything as it happens, it doesn’t sink in as real until it’s too late and you’re already too far into it.

You don’t remember, afterwards, exactly what you were doing — were you helping them with homework at the kitchen table, or were you all watching a movie on your couch beforehand? You’re not sure. You only remember feeling an unusual palpable energy in the air, them looking back and forth at each other as if to confirm to move ahead with some premeditated plan. You remember that it was Chongyun that initiated it, to some extent—

I— I mean, we wanted to, uh, talk to you about something, and, ah…

He seems to lose his words halfway through, and sort of pathetically looks over at the other, as if silently begging for help, which is met with a sigh and a few back and forth comments as you stare on in bewilderment — that ‘no, you were supposed to do that part,’ or ‘no, YOU were supposed to do that,’ so on and so forth, until they both seem to just give up on whatever the plan was and go for it instead.

That’s where it becomes a bit of a blur. You don’t remember which one grabbed you first, which one’s mouth met yours first.

You think you said a few things to deter them, obligatory statements of how I can’t, I’m married and the other standard lines you’re supposed to say because you have some sense of guilt and honor, don't you? You have to deny them the first time, it's only right.

And yet, you’re pretty sure your resistance didn’t last long.

The reality of it all doesn’t sink in until you’re at the point where you can no longer bring yourself to care, too lost in excitement and ecstasy and basking in the feeling of being so intensely desired, until you’re on your knees with one in your mouth and one from behind (although later, you can’t recall which was which at first — they switched up a few times, you’re pretty sure). You don’t even remember how many times they came inside you, only that you felt some vague alarm the first time, but stopped caring soon after, letting yourself be bent over your couch and put on your knees on the floor, letting your mind melt away, focusing only on pleasure and longing and, in the back of your mind, a twinge of guilt knowing that maybe you knew this was what they wanted all along.

Good thing your husband was on another one of his business trips. You’re pretty sure he’d be furious to know you took them upstairs and continued all night long on his own bed thereafter, eventually all falling asleep there too, with you sandwiched in between… only to wake up and go at it again the next morning. It’s Saturday, after all, they have to fill their time with something other than school.

You have different sets of issues, after that day. You’re not worried about their affections being inappropriate — you’ve long since accepted that, now you’re just a little worried about how they keep pressuring you to divorce and move in with one of them (Xingqiu reminds you his family is very very wealthy, this in turn upsets Chongyun, who insists he’s trying to ‘win you over’ which is ‘unfair’ to him). You don’t worry about your missing clothes or their touches, those are no longer an issue… now your biggest concern is keeping their voracious sex drives at bay, which it turns out you severely underestimated, and you have TWO to deal with on top of that, practically getting pounded and plowed at every opportunity.

Then you have to worry about how virile they probably are… you’re not on birth control, seeing as your husband has demanded you have a kid. He might get one, even if not how he expected… and then you have to worry about giving both boys equal affection, lest you hurt one’s feelings or make them jealous… and then you have to worry about your poor weary body, which can barely keep up with them…

And, of course, you worry about the inevitable, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before things fall apart, one way or another. A matter of time before they decide to ‘deal with’ your husband — you heard them use that exact verbiage muttering to themselves, only for them to go silent once they saw you. A matter of time before they do something, and you get the feeling that you're not going to like whatever something is.

Yes, you know things can’t stay in this limbo forever… and that worries you, no matter how much you try to put it off and pretend things are fine and tell yourself you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it, only to find the bridge is growing closer with each day. After-school threesomes on a limited schedule can only keep them content for so long, especially when they've already started to push the limits of how long they can stay, how many times they can go, insisting you can get one more round in before your husband comes home.

At least you’re pretty sure no one else knows. The neighbors still ask you how “your boys” are, and seem to do so with endearment, with no trace of any concern or outrage or disgust.

You haven’t changed your answer in all the time they’ve asked — you always smile and say they’re doing just great. Perhaps that’s even more true now than it was before.