#can’t wait to buy a silhouette….

[steevejr]

I hope the cricuut ceo shoots himself. top ten most consumer hostile products on the market. It’s like they don’t want you to ever use it or buy it it’s liteslly non functional !!!!

[hoshifighting]

seventeen getting caught masturbating

seungcheol being caught masturbating by you was the last thing you expected tonight. seungcheol’s eyes widen in surprise before he quickly hides under the sheets, biting his lip in embarrassment. you can’t help but smirk as you approach, your hand wrapping around his cock through the fabric. his hips buck involuntarily, eyes rolling back, “oh god,” he moans desperately, unable to control himself. “you’re gonna make me cum,” he moans all sulky :(

jeonghan’s usually composed demeanor crumbles. he’s shyer than he thought he’d be, yet he keeps his eyes glued to you, stroking himself. “help me or leave,” he whispers, his voice shaky. you move closer, and his breath hitches, knowing he’s close to the edge just from your presence.

joshua gasps, scrambling to dress himself. but your presence in the doorway, that sly grin on your face, stops him. he hesitates, then slowly starts to undress again, uncertainty and arousal blending in his eyes. “don’t just stand there,” he mutters, cheeks flushed, “come here.”

junhui’s reaction is almost comical in its speed. he covers himself in an instant, but when he realizes you’re not buying it, he gives in, voice soft with a plea. “can you help me?” he asks, his need evident. you oblige, and the gratitude in his eyes is unmistakable as he falls apart under your touch.

hoshi doesn’t notice you at first, too lost in the sensations, eyes closed as he bucks into his hand. when he finally does see you, he screams, making you jump. even then, his hand doesn’t stop, a muffled moan slipping past his lips as he covers his mouth. “please,” he whispers, and you can’t resist helping him finish.

wonwoo when you open the door quietly, not expecting the sight before you. his body tenses immediately, his eyes wide with embarrassment. without his glasses, he only sees your silhouette, and he’s terrified. he scrambles to cover himself, but it’s too late. he mutters a quick, “sorry,” before bolting to another room, leaving you speechless in the doorway. the sound of a door slamming shut echoes down the hall. after a moment, the bathroom door opens, and there he is, dressed and composed, but still visibly flustered. he approaches you hesitantly, his hand reaching out to yours, and you know exactly what that means. “I guess I have no reason to be shy, right? after all, you seemed to like it...”

woozi immediately sulks, glaring at you. “you said you’d be home late,” he grumbles, but his grip on the sheets betrays him as you step nearer. you take him in hand, his protests dissolving into moans. “f-fuck, i’m so embarrassed, so embarassed” he stammers between breaths, but his hips don’t stop moving.

minghao is indignant at first. “don’t you know how to knock?” he snaps. you start to apologize, backing out, but he quickly changes his tune. “wait! c-can you help me?” he asks, his voice small.

mingyu is caught in the most embarrassing moment—right as he’s cumming. he barely has time to react, the embarrassment and orgasm hitting him simultaneously, his face contorting in pleasure as he finishes. “why did you have to walk in now?” but the way his body trembles shows he doesn’t reaaaally mind.

seokmin is too horny to care about embarrassment at first. “please help,” he begs immediately. once he cums, reality hits, and he runs away, all embarrassed, sulking about being caught in such a compromising position. “i can’t believe i asked you for help,” you can’t help but chuckle at his retreating form.

seungkwan tries to play it cool, pretending he hasn’t seen you, but you both know better. his face burns with embarrassment, yet there’s a flicker of something else. he knows you’re enjoying the sight, and he’s counting the seconds until you join him. “you like what you see?” “you gonna help or just watch?” he finally says, his bravado wavering.

vernon covers himself with a pillow, staring at you with wide eyes and pink cheeks. “help?” you offer, and he doesn’t even let you finish before saying, “yes! … please.” his voice is soooft! almost a whisper, but the need is clear.

chan grips the base of his cock tightly, trying to stop himself from cumming. “y-you scared me!” he exclaims, eyes wide as you close the door behind you. he gulps as you walk closer, his breath hitching. “are you going to finish what you started?” you ask.

[nadvs]

both sinners (part one)

pairing drugdealer! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug use

summary as a stripper, you’re well aware that someone you know could walk into the club at any moment. when rafe is your newest customer, you’re actually glad to see a familiar face.

{ masterlist }

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The room is humid. The pole is smooth. The music is throbbing. And the seats are filling up fast. It’s a typical Saturday night at the club.

You just stepped out on the stage, circling the pole, taking slow, seductive steps in your stilettos.

A polished ‘reserved’ name plate sits on table in the booth right in front of you. You’ll start your routine and get undressed when the people who claimed that booth come in.

You’ve only been stripping for a few months, but you know well enough by now that it’s not worth putting your best show on until the reserved booths are full. Those customers are the most generous with their tips.

Moments later, in the pink and purple lights shimmering over the large club, you can make out the shadowed figures of three men piling into the booth.

You hook your leg around the pole and gyrate while they get seated, ready to start your show.

Rafe settles in the cushioned booth and is immediately captivated by you. You’re so smooth with every slow roll of your hips.

He glances around, seeing the other dancers, but there’s something about you that’s magnetic. It’s like his eyes will only allow him to look at you.

You’re in a sheer skirt and a scant bra; in his opinion, too many clothes are covering your body. He watches while you sensually sway, the lights hitting your planes and curves.

When you arch your back to pull the string holding your bra together, baring your tits, you bra falls to the floor in a bunch. You dip your head back, chest uncovered and so fucking perfect, as you hold yourself up on the pole.

You’re left in nothing but a mini-skirt, lace panties, and six-inch heels.

He’s in awe.

“Dude!” Topper shouts over the music. Rafe looks over at his friend and the waitress leaning over his shoulder. “Drink?”

Rafe realizes they’ve probably been trying to get his attention for a while. He was just too damn distracted by the silhouette on stage.

He laughs, ordering an old fashioned, and turns his attention back to you.

“Acting like you’ve never seen tits before,” Topper chides him, shoving his shoulder and making Kelce crack up.

“Shut the fuck up,” Rafe chuckles.

You hike yourself up on the pole and slowly spread your legs apart, twisting and rolling. Goddamn. He’s already so fucking worked up just from watching you dance a few feet away from him.

You wait until their drinks arrive and let them get a few sips in before you sink to the glossy floor and swing your legs over the stage.

“Hi, boys,” you say over the music, turning on the flirty, confident identity you always take on while on stage. “Having fun?”

“It’s his birthday,” one of them shouts and points to the man in the middle.

“Oh, yeah?” you say with a smile. You slowly drop onto the carpeted floor and start to close the distance between you and the three men.

The way your hips swing is making Rafe’s groin get tighter. He can’t believe this is his first time in a strip club. What the fuck took him so long?

You freeze for a second when you realize you know these guys. Kind of.

Even though you live nowhere near Figure 8, you’ve befriended enough wealthy people on the island to get invited to their extravagant house parties. And you’ve definitely seen these men before.

You know Rafe best out of the three. He sells the purest coke you’ve ever tried and he somehow gets hotter every time you see him. You’ve talked to him maybe twice, buying a couple of grams off of him.

It’ll only be awkward if you make it awkward, so you place your hands on the edge of the table in the middle of the booth and lean forward, arms pressed against your sides to push out your tits.

Rafe’s eyes dip to your naked chest immediately, then back up to your face. He’s met you before. He thought you were hot then, and he thinks you’re hot now.

“I know you,” you tease. He finds it sexy how you’re completely unfazed by this, not embarrassed at all to be half-naked like this in front of them. “Happy birthday.”

His friend, who you’re pretty sure people call Topper, holds out a folded $50 between his fore finger and middle finger to you.

“First dance is on me, man,” Topper slurs, patting Rafe’s chest with his other hand. By the lazy smiles on their faces, you can tell these aren’t their first drinks of the night.

You lick your lips and smile as you take the bill and tuck it in the waistband of your skirt. You know these guys are loaded. You’re going to make a killing tonight.

You look back at the stage, spotting another dancer and cocking your chin to silently gesture to her to join the table and keep the other guys entertained while you focus on Rafe.

You slowly make your way towards him, the erotic, bass-heavy music surrounding you. You typically let your mind drift away while you give a customer a lap dance, but you’re actually attracted to this one.

The sight of your thighs spreading as you kneel down to straddle him makes Rafe’s heart start pounding even harder.

“Hi,” you say with a sweet smile. You settle and hover over him, mostly supporting yourself on your knees, but sitting on his lap just enough to feel his firm thighs beneath you.

You’re a little nervous, which takes you by surprise. This must be what happens when a customer is someone you have a crush on.

His cologne smells crisp and expensive as you put your hands on his broad shoulders, rubbing over the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Hi,” Rafe says with a stunned grin, his dimples deep. You feel his hands settle under your skirt, fingers splayed over your ass. Even though the rules are strict against touching the dancers, and you’re sure he was told that when he arrived, you let him.

It feels so damn good to be wanted like this by him, to have him touch you. Besides, he seems like the type who thinks he’s above the rules anyway, so telling him not to touch you would be a waste of breath.

“How’s your day been?” you coo, palms sliding down to his chest. Rafe’s blue eyes trail from your mouth to your half-naked body, the handsome angles of his face shadowed under the lights.

“Better now,” he says, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. You giggle, leaning to speak into his ear.

“They don’t let you touch the dancers here,” you mumble to him, “but I’ll give you a pass tonight.”

You pull back to see him clench his defined jawline as he squeezes harder.

“Yeah?” he rasps, the sharp smell of bourbon on his breath. “How come?”

“It’s my birthday present to you,” you say, starting to writhe on him.

“Bullshit,” he smirks. “It’s ‘cause you want me to touch you.” You can admit to yourself that his ego is kind of charming. And yeah, he’s right. His hands on you do feel good.

You sit up to prop your chest right up to his face. Rafe breathes in the smell of your perfume, revelling in the feeling of your tits inches away from his face.

“Are you always this cocky?” you ask. You rake a hand up the back of his head, his hair soft between your fingers.

“Yeah,” Rafe says simply, his careless shrug adding to his charm. You start to gyrate against him, feeling his firmness in his jeans. You dip your head, your cheek pressed against his as you grind.

“That feels good, huh?” you hum.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice deep as he says your name. “I didn’t know you were such a bad girl.”

Damn. You’re actually getting wet right now. This never happens. This is supposed to be work.

“Now you know,” you reply. Your hand slides down his chest, over his firm stomach, landing at his groin. Damn. He’s big.

“Shit,” he groans. You pull back, seeing Rafe���s drunken smile, and seamlessly sit up to swing your leg off of him, backing up to shake your ass on him.

The way your skirt is bouncing with every recoil makes him feel like he could go crazy. You look back at him to see him digging into his pocket, taking a wad of cash out.

He tucks a bill into the band of your skirt, his bottom lip trapped under his teeth as he watches you lustfully.

The way you shake and sway and bump on his lap is making the tension in him tighten, closer and closer to snapping by the second. It’s not enough. He needs to see you fully naked.

The next time you look at him, Rafe impatiently wags his fingers to beckon you to turn towards him again. You obey and kneel over, your faces only inches apart, your hands on his thighs, your ass in the air.

“You gonna get naked or what?” he mutters impatiently. You’re flattered that he’s so into you.

“I can, here,” you say, eager to upsell, “or we can go up to a private room.”

“Yeah?” he says. “What else can we do in there?”

“Did you come here to talk?” you hear a man shout. You realize Topper’s giving him shit, smiling as one of the other dancers grinds on him.

You honestly like that Rafe is talking to you instead of silently watching you dance for him, but you giggle, trying to keep the atmosphere light and fun.

Rafe doesn’t like you laughing with his friend. Or smiling at him. Or even looking at him.

“Let’s go,” Rafe says resolutely. You turn to gaze at him again, his eyes gleaming in the flickering lights.

“It’s $100 for a room-” you begin, but he interrupts.

“Let’s go,” he repeats. You have a feeling you could tell him any price and he’d agree.

You smile and take Rafe’s hand, leading him upstairs to one of the VIP rooms. A bouncer standing in the top level hallway nods to you and motions to a free room.

“No touching, buddy,” he warns Rafe, who only replies with a mocking nod. This man has no respect for anyone or anything. And he makes it look so sexy.

The small space offers an upholstered booth, a pole, and a table for drinks. The dim red bulb on the ceiling seems to casts more shadows than light, making Rafe annoyed that he won’t be able to see you better.

He settles onto the booth as you shut the door behind you. His legs are spread wide, his cock stretching his jeans out in an impressive bulge.

The music is muffled, but still loud enough to dance to in the private room. You toss the bills that are sitting under your waistband onto the table, then position yourself between his knees to writhe for him as you pull down the zipper on the side of your skirt.

The skirt pools around your heels. Rafe drinks in the vision of your lace panties, the way the fabric hugs your lips. He has never been more turned on.

“Damn…” he groans with a disbelieving scoff, his hands sliding up your thighs. When he runs a thumb up your middle, you tremble.

This feels unreal. You’ve given every other man who merely tried to touch your hand a firm reminder of the rules. But here you are, letting Rafe touch your pussy, loving the feeling.

“I knew you were fine, but shit,” he mutters.

You can’t help but wonder if he was attracted to you before he laid eyes on you tonight, when you were fully dressed at the parties you’ve seen each other at.

Rafe’s lips curl into a smirk as he digs into his pocket to pull out his wallet and a clear baggy of white powder. If you weren’t sure that he couldn’t give less of a fuck about rules before, you are now.

“Want some?” he asks.

“I’m working,” you laugh.

“What’s a little bit gonna do?” Rafe asks, pulling out a credit card. “Lie down.”

Intrigued, you follow his orders, settling on the booth onto your back.

“Stay still,” he mutters. You laugh to yourself in disbelief when you realize he’s setting up a line on your chest, right between your tits. He’s almost too much.

Rafe loves the way the powder looks sitting on your skin. He taps the edge of his credit card against the line of coke, evening it out, before he leans down and snorts through a rolled up bill.

Euphoria hits every one of his senses immediately. His lips are right by yours and he gives into his impulse like he always does, leaning down to kiss you.

He takes you by surprise when he captures your lips in his. You smile beneath his hot mouth, enthralled by his spontaneous passion, feeling him suck on your bottom lip. When he pulls back, he’s smiling.

“You sure you don’t want any?” Rafe asks, pupils blown.

“Fuck it,” you laugh. This night has been crazy enough. “Just a bump.”

You sit up, leaning against the cushion of the booth and you hold out your finger, watching as he carefully tips some coke out of the baggy. You rub it over your gums, purposely sucking your finger as you pop it out of your mouth.

Everything about you is driving Rafe crazy in the best way. You’re so fucking carefree and self-possessed.

He shifts to hang over you, his fingers looping around the band of your panties. Rafe pulls them down your legs and sharply inhales when he sees your bare pussy.

He needs you. A dance isn’t enough.

“I’m supposed to do that part,” you breathe a chuckle.

“How much to fuck you?” He meets your eyes, his hair hanging over his forehead.

“We can’t do that, baby,” you laugh, although you desperately want to. You’d get fired in a second. “Not here.”

“It’s my birthday,” he whines with a heartbreaking grin. He palms his dick in his pants, eyes drifting down your body hungrily. “How much? I’ll give you whatever you want.”

You’ve already broken so many rules, and you would love to fuck him, but the risk of getting caught is just too high. You decide to compromise.

You put him hand on the hard swelling in his pants and rub.

“How about this?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes. “You sit down and I touch you.”

That way, you think, if anyone walks in, your back will be to the door and you can hide what you’re doing, making it look like you’re just giving him another lap dance.

Rafe nods, glad he has the promise of a release, and sits back down where he was before.

You shuffle to straddle him, feeling his hands on your ass again. You unbutton and zip down his jeans and he frantically bucks his hips up and slips them down.

When his cock pops out of his boxers, you nearly gasp at how big it is.

“I got hard the second I saw your tits,” he laughs, feeling drunk and high out of his mind.

“Yeah?” you purr. You spit on your palm then put your hand around his base. He groans, the pressure sending a roll of pleasure through his body.

“Yeah,” Rafe shudders. “You have really nice fucking tits.” Wow. He’s talkative when he’s high. You love it.

His hands move up to capture your breasts, squeezing the flesh.

“How the fuck am I not supposed to touch you? That’s a stupid fucking rule,” he mutters, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples. You shudder, arching your back at the sensation.

“Damn, you like that?” he rasps with a smirk.

“Yeah,” you breathe a laugh. You start to run your hand up and down his cock, arousal pooling in your gut.

“You’re telling me you don’t want this dick inside you?” he teases. You bite your bottom lip and twist your wrist as you stroke him.

“We can’t fuck in here,” you tell him.

“But we can somewhere else?” Rafe asks, tilting his chin towards you so you’ll kiss him again.

The coke is starting to hit your system as your tongue rolls over his, your palm wet against his cock.

“Yeah, we can,” you say shakily when you pull away.

“Shit, you’re good at that,” he grunts, looking down at your hand working him. All you can hear is the muffled music and your combined breathing and the sound of your wet skin rubbing over his.

“Yeah?” you ask.

Rafe’s head is spinning. He takes in the sight of his hands on your perfect tits, the way you’re jerking him off, the smile on your pretty face. All this combined with the liquor and coke rushing through him is fucking paradise.

“You wanna cum on me?” you impulsively ask. He’s still partly dressed, but you’re fully naked. It’d be easier to clean up. And, if you’re being honest, you want to feel his cum on you.

“You really are a bad girl,” Rafe laughs. You meet his eyes. He’s so depraved, but hell, so are you.

You put your other hand on him, rubbing his thick length in a faster rhythm. He rolls his head back as he groans.

“I’m gonna… oh, fuck…” His deep voice unravels into mumbles.

You aim his cock towards you, watching the white ropes of his cum spurt out of him, his body twitching beneath you. The hot liquid splashes over your stomach and your thighs, making you smile in satisfaction.

When he comes down from the high you gave him, he hands you his entire wad of cash.

You didn’t expect your night to take this turn, but it was so much fucking fun. And you have no idea if Rafe will remember any of this. But you hope he does.

{ part two }

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[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter twenty-four — not friends. (💋)

[[ ALL WRITTEN CHAPTER ]] tw: lots of swearing, slight violence

Hu Tao didn’t think it was going to be this thorough working with Heizou.

For the past thirty minutes since four o’ clock in the morning, Heizou’s been doing nothing except making sure everybody in the group they came with was asleep. Checking all of the rooms and making sure they were accounted for while Hu Tao stood at the crook of the doorway in front of where Scaramouche was sleeping.

She truly wanted to find it funny, being the prankster herself. But she wasn’t laughing. “If you’re going to be patient with this, we may as well wait until he wakes up.”

“You can’t interrupt a crime scene like this. They’d just apprehend you.” Heizou whispered back, as quiet as the stillness in the night, continuing to trace his own steps back to the other rooms.

Hu Tao’s patience wore thin as she clenched her teeth, trying to contain her frustration by grabbing his arm and clawing her manicured nails into the meat of his forearm. “This floor is about to be a crime scene if you don’t fucking lock in, buster. You’re about to ruin it for both of us!”

"Ouch- alright, alright. Let go." Heizou winced, taking her silent warning.

With a begrudging nod, Hu Tao released her iron grip and approached the door with cautious steps, Heizou holding his own phone with his camera open at the ready.

She paused, turning to him and pointed a finger. "Remember, we're just looking. Don't accidentally send anything to anyone."

"Don't need to tell me twice, I feel grimy just doing this."

"And not kidnapping the kid?"

"You want me to be a child predator so bad-" Heizou was able to finish his sentence until he was cut off by a rustling in the distance.

"What are you guys doing?" A small voice asked from afar.

The both of them froze, slowly turning their bodies towards the source of the noise. Even when the hallway was as big as it was, the sound didn't seem to echo through the stillness of the night.

But the rustling stopped once a silhouette appeared from under a blanket and began to rush towards the other two. Hu Tao's heart damn near fell out of her ass, flinching at how fast Nahida came into vision.

"Holy shit," Hu Tao held her hands up in faux defense.

Heizou squinted at the girl before crossing his arms over his chest. "What are you doing awake, Nahida. Growing children need their sleep every night."

"Spare me the patronizing, Heizou. What are you guys doing in front of his room?"

"Wow. I didn't even know what 'patronizing' meant at that age." Hu Tao puffed her cheeks. "Maybe you're right, Heizou. My bad."

Heizou narrowed his eyes, reveling in his victory for a bit until he cleared his throat. His demeanor shifted into a nonchalance. "We were about to talk a walk. Just happened to be in front of someone's room."

Nahida raised an eyebrow, "At four in the morning? Sneaking directly towards his room?"

"He has the better patio view." Hu Tao chimed in. "You know how it is, sometimes you just need a little bit of fresh air."

Nahida was obviously not buying it. "Right." She said with a drawl as she looked at Hu Tao and Heizou dubiously. "And I'm the Empress of Snezhnaya. Don't act like I don't know that you two are plotting to take Scaramouche down."

"Foiled again," Hu Tao gritted her teeth. "Okay, we wanted to see if he had anything on his phone. Who wouldn't be curious? That guys a briefcase of suspicion, and I'm going to open it."

Heizou cringed, shooting Hu Tao a glare before sighing. "Yeah, Nahida. This would be a huge step in my investigation."

"You're unbelievable." Nahida responded with a disappointed frown. "If you really were curious about whether Scaramouche was doing something, it'd be less of an issue to just...oh, you know, ask him yourself? Not invading his privacy?"

"Now you know me directly asking a question would cramp my style." Heizou huffed. "We're not going to do anything except gather evidence. If there is none, we're out right away. Okay?"

There was something that was aching in Nahida, almost as if no matter what were to happen if she let them do this, things were going to go entirely wrong. With or without this happening, there was no keeping it at bay.

"Just be careful." Nahida looked in between them, sighing as her expression softened by a lot. "Whatever you find, handle it responsibly. I'm sure he's been through a lot of trouble with his own people already. We don't need more of it."

Hu Tao saluted. "No unnecessary risks. Gotcha."

Within an hour, they found themselves sitting in the corner of Scaramouche's room, looking through his phone. The soft glow of his phone casting a shadow on their faces. Every now and then, Heizou would take photos from his camera of what he'd think would be evidence for the future.

The both of them fell silent, hardly making an effort to talk to each other as they both became too interested in the contents. For some reason, seeing his life so formulated and established made it harder for Hu Tao to go through it.

"I think I'm done." She whispered before sighing, leaning back against the wall. "He's not even that bad of a guy. Ei is just a publicity demon."

"You're giving up?" Heizou looked at her.

"Yeah. I thought I would be happier to look through his things, but it seems like..." While Hu Tao was taking brief glances, her eyebrows raised at a certain detail that she missed while she was sitting there. "Wait a minute...what's that?"

"Huh?"

"He has a second account." Hu Tao pointed at the screen once she swiped the menu to Twitter. "See? It's the little circle with the 3d girl on it."

"You can make second accounts linked to your main?" Heizou scrunched up his nose. "I guess that would've been nice to know when I posted my abs on social media and the office job I tried applying to found it."

Hu Tao stared at him for a second, wanting to respond, but shook her head and continue scanning through his feed. "Sneaky little fucker." She laughed in disbelief. "I mean, I guess not- it's all just random posts too. He's not following anyone on this ac-"

Once Hu Tao tapped on his icon, her eyes widened. There was a mountain sized chill that came coursing through her body. One that she thought she'd never experience ever since (Y/N) cursed the entire Inazuma group out on their livestream.

Justsofamous338. An account from the series of accounts from Justsofamous.

"Oh my go-" She stopped herself from being too loud. "Oh my...fucking god. Heizou..." She said, her breath failing her.

"Jackpot, eh?" Heizou murmured, staring interested at the screen.

Her hands visibly trembled as she pressed the messages, her eyes glued to the screen. There were no messages from this account in particular, but the fact that he was even signed in was indicator enough. "He posted on this account two times. Both cryptic, but he definitely knows that you're looking for who he is."

Heizou was genuinely in disbelief that they both were met with a side of the sleeping Scaramouche that they didn't know about until now. How? How was somebody like that so capable of what he said to (Y/N)?

Either way, Hu Tao felt herself come to a boiling point. And with that pent up anger that she's yet to know what to deal with, she hardly slept for the rest of the night.

You didn’t know where you were for a good minute.

Despite how long you were out for, there was a nagging feeling inside of you that you should wake up soon after all the stress left. Your eyes fluttered awake, leaving your body to be wracked by the copious amounts of physical exercise you did the night before. If there was one thing you hated doing in the morning, it was waking up in general…and hurting.

But even with your pain and disorient, you still managed to regain your consciousness. The memories of the previous night, and how embarrassing they were, flooding back. You put your head in your hands, groaning in a miserably agony. “Why did I say that?!” You yelled.

“Stupid, so stupid. What the fuck?!”

It hung heavy in your mind, eyes dulling. You weren’t about to let it ruin your day, but the more you sat alone in the room that used to have Tohma and Ayaka’s sleeping bodies, the more you wonder if you’re in the backrooms or not.

After a few moments of looking at the groovy texture and the zig zags of the clock, you felt your resolve return. You put on your socks and slip ons, heading towards the sliding door and opening it…

Only to be met with Scaramouche on the other side. You almost screamed, but not because of him. It was because of how the barely cooked meat of the Shoyu ramen in his hands was touching the rest of the ingredients.

“Ah yes, my reminder of the unfortunate appears again.” You murmured grimly.

“What?” Scaramouche couldn’t help but let out a small scoff.

“Nothing. Morning, Kuni. Didn’t take you to be the type to wake up on the dot.” You tilted your head. “Something’s gone awry.”

“I wanted to see how you were doing in there. It’s almost one in the afternoon.” Scara said, holding the ramen outward towards you. “Breakfast. It’s really hot, so be careful.”

“I already had breakfast, Kuni.” You said, eyeing the ramen warily.

“You just woke up.”

“Yeah?” You contested with the same amount of attitude he gave you. “It’s called eating in your sleep. I’m good off your red ass meat. You didn’t even cook it.”

“You don’t eat it when it’s red, dickhead. You put it in the broth to cook it. That’s why it’s a conversational dish.”

“Spoken as if you want to have…conversation with me?” You asked as you wiggled your eyebrows. “Man, just say you have it hot for me already. This is embarrassing.”

“You wish, chucklefuck.” Scara said disgustedly as his violet eyes moved from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet. He couldn’t get past how ridiculous your pajama set was. “Lightning McQueen?”

“Limited edition. Like my crocs too?” You put your hands in your pockets, sticking one leg out so he could look at the full set easier. “You can afford a house in this day and age, but I can afford something you’ll never be able to get a day in your life without pulling out a mortgage. Eat that.”

“I’m sure I can live without it.”

“Nobody can ever live without the kachow in their life.” You snickered, motioning him over to the table. “Thanks for the ramen.”

You couldn't shake off the weird feeling around you as you sat down with him at the dining table. Tohma and Ayaka were already out of bed somewhere, and none of the rest were around to your knowledge.

You found yourself lingering in the ruminating thought, dipping the meat in the broth for a minute. "Hm," You mulled, "Long start to the day, huh? Were you the first awake?"

"I wouldn't be surprised." He shrugged, "I wanted to make sure everyone was accounted for."

"Ooh, the hospitality." You smiled. "Looks like you're already ahead of everyone else. Always on top of things."

"Are you impressed?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Impressed? Slightly. Planning to take advantage of it? Quite." You tried to keep your tone casual in case it was just you that felt this way. "Hey, uh...sorry about last night."

As he looked up, meeting your gaze, you almost wanted to look away. You could tell that he was trying to think about it. "What did you do last night?"

You hesitated, unsure of how to broach the topic. "...If you forgot about it, it probably wasn't even that important."

Even though the both of them sat in a comfortable silence, it was suddenly broken by Hu Tao busting through the doors of where she was "sleeping". Whatever was solidified as peace throughout their silence was destroyed, as there was now obvious tension.

Her eyes darted between the two of you, and you could practically see the metaphorical gears turning in her mind as she approached. She was visibly stiff, lacking any lax in her jaw. "Nice to grace us with your presence Scaramouche. Or something like that." You exchanged a hesitant glance with her, sitting back in your chair once you put a piece of meat in your mouth. "Did you just wake up? Why are you all clammy?" "No." Hu Tao hissed. "You thought you were fucking notorious, didn't you? Thought that you could just decide to coexist with us, huh?"

"What are you on about?" Scaramouche's brows furrowed.

"You tell me, Justsofamous." Hu Tao's voice was almost gravelly and aggravated, tossing her phone with all of the evidence popped up in her photos app. A storm was live and raging inside of her veins, turbulent and fierce. "Yeah, thought you could hoe us all out with that one? Playing with us like some fools, taking advantage of our obliviousness. Fuck you."

Your mouth twitched in disbelief looking at the said photos, looking slowly back at Scaramouche.

His face didn't say anything particularly outstanding, but there was something wrong about how he looked rather than his neutrality. Your heart began to beat with an extra pulse than you were accustomed to, trying to keep the adrenaline at bay.

"What's she talking about?" You asked him, holding the chopsticks in your hand with a tighter grip. "Scaramouche?"

"Scaramouche is Justsofamous, and him and Aether are like this." Hu Tao locked her fingers together. "They never stopped talking to each other. In fact, he's literally in the same group chat as all of our ops. Crazy, right?" Hu Tao shouted, causing the rest of the group to come out from where they were to see the scene.

You faltered in your look, feeling your entire being be worn down by the sudden outcome of your morning. "Scaramouche, say something." Tears formed in your eyes, entire face intense. "Say something..." You whispered.

But even though he was being put on the spot, there was no other way he could put it other than a small sigh in the end. "Surprise." He sat back, staring at you dead in the eye with uncertainty.

You became molten lava on the inside. Your hands were trembling with the same mixture of rage that burned within you like hot coals. And then all of a sudden, it was like all of the things that he called you, the blatant way he talked to you before he even knew you, his lack of hesitance when he poured coffee on you. The way he insulted you proudly, despite being in the wrong. He wasn't betting on being your friend, nor even an acquaintance. You knew, and you still gave him the benefit of the doubt.

He was taunting you.

In the grip of your emotions, your vision went red. Like a tempest unleashed against your body, you raged. The tears streaming down your cheeks were bitter, you were being crushed by a boulder of betrayal. "You...YOU!" You could barely make out your words from how choked up you were.

You rose from your chair in a flash, your chest ragged and heaving as you knocked the Shoyu ramen on the ground, the crash of glass and the food slightly burning you. "You fucking asshole!" You screamed louder and louder, and began coming closer and closer towards Scaramouche, pushing him.

"You got a fucking kick out of it, didn't you?! You LOVED acting like the savior, just so I could get comfortable. Fuck. You. You cum gargling piece of fucking shit!" You started pushing on his shoulder to intimidate him. "Tell me how much you loved getting under my fucking skin! Huh?! TELL ME." You screamed in his face, but you couldn't even bare to listen to him.

Your cries strangled your throat as Tohma held you back. You noticed Scaramouche's face pale, trying so hard not to break his composure but now refusing to make eye contact with you. His expression betrayed him, and you knew that he regretted it, but unsure of whether he meant it.

Did it matter anyway? You destroyed everything in your path, from paintings to throwing furniture around. Nothing was left untouched until Tohma held you back. His grip on your arms tightened, his voice a steady anchor amidst the chaos. "Hey, calm down. It's not worth it."

You were almost beyond reason until then, you dropped to your knees despite all the force keeping you from it, and you sobbed violently. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You said with a full voice, screaming again, this time in a lot more pain your heart could exuberate. "You're rotten, Scaramouche. You're fucking rotten."

Having everything shattered in you wasn't fair, you knew it, and so did he. It's why he stared down at you with a flicker of vulnerability, a crack in the facade of his own indifference.

And no matter how much he wanted to respond, to defend himself, he couldn't. Because in the end, maybe all that this situation was destined for was damnation.

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo

@justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @kunisnaomi

@keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi

@kyon-cherri @b4tm4nn @iiinaurate @quacking-simp @auroratumbles

@kookiibun @ulquiorraswife @amvpk01 @simplysm1le @h3xi2g0n3

@alatusorrow @scaranthropy @mellowberrie @magica-ren @vernith

@kabukipookie @bananasquash @suqarlaced @dellalyra @lightyagamifan

@yourfavoritefreakyhan @heartsforseo @yomishen @pwushizz @swivy123

@strxwberryfetish @ibyobi @ashfrommars4 @chemiru @ainnofinway

@agaygothicmushroom @levianamor @dragontammerz @wth121 @lylovw

@morgyyyyyyy @lovemari @suniika @melpomenelurks @liuaneee @yumejo89 (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

[britcision]

And part two! So a good chunk of the reason the chapter got so long is that around halfway through this part I realized… Danny and Jason didn’t have a single scene together

And we can’t have that!

And then they just kept being adorable

So this is my promise to y’all that whenever possible, we will have at least one scene of the lads directly interacting every chapter 😁

Part 1:

—————————

The Finished Core part 2

Jason was stable, his core fully formed for a little less than a month, and they’d hung out and done ecto shots until midnight last night. Danny had no homework due, but would be starting a big project by the end of the week. His schedule wouldn’t be this empty for at least another two months.

And if he delayed beyond that. He’d either never do this, or have to explain to Jason what he was doing, because Jason would probably ask.

Jason being unavailable tonight (something big was going on with his library project, which Danny thought was just adorable) was actually why Danny had to do it now.

Because Jason would want to come with him. And, as fraught as his relationship with Bruce Wayne obviously was, Danny was pretty sure it wasn’t “have a good reaction to hearing about Danny’s evil alternate self killing him” bad.

And. Y’know. The end of the world thing.

And that Danny wanted to put him on parole.

That was all gonna be way too complicated for Danny to explain easily, so he had to go talk to Nocturn tonight. While he could do it alone.

Because maybe “here is my formerly evil alternate self” would sound so much better all the problems would just melt away.

Whatever. That was Future Danny’s problem anyway, which was okay because Dan’s timeline divergence was now very firmly in the past.

Dan wasn’t the Ghost King. He should be comparatively harmless.

Danny wasn’t thinking about how comparatively harmless he’d been when he stuffed Dan into a thermos.

Sucking in a bolstering breath, he floated up to the deceptively simple door to Nocturn’s lair and knocked.

Waiting to be let in was a formality; technically Danny could have ripped open a portal right into the heart of Nocturn’s lair and there was nothing the Lord of Dreams could do about it, but. Nocturn had done him a favour. Danny was trying to be cool.

There was a long enough wait that he almost wondered if he should just push in, show that he wasn’t fucking around either, but then the door swung open.

Nocturn was waiting for him just inside, his white jester’s mask arranged into placid servility that Danny didn’t buy for a moment. Tendrils of night curled around him, swaying ever so slightly but tucked in close. He clearly didn’t want Danny too deep in his lair, and Danny decided to respect that, coming in just far enough for the door to close behind them.

Technically, it’d put him in Nocturn’s power, if he wasn’t the Ghost King. The whole Zone was his lair if he wanted it to be.

Nocturn inclined his head gracefully, his voice smooth and impassive as he spoke.

“You desire something, my king?” He asked carefully, and Danny hesitated.

He didn’t like doing the whole… thing. Would have preferred not to need it. But if they were standing on ceremony…

It was barely a thought before the Crown of Fire formed above his head, the silhouette of the crown itself fading in before it caught with spectral green flames, that themselves were overwhelmed by creeping spires of diamantine frost.

The cape spilled down from his shoulders, its folds lit with galaxies and nebulas far grander in scale than Nocturn’s own star-speckled form. There was no weight to it, and no wind, yet it rippled and swayed anyway, plucked by solar currents.

Danny consciously cut the change off there. Any of the armour or other regalia could be taken as a challenge, and while Nocturn was just as unwilling to actually become the King personally, it’d make him cranky. And Danny needed another favour.

“Yes, Dream Lord. It’s… it is about the charge I placed in your care. The one who sleeps in the Evermoving Now.” Ancients, Danny felt like an idiot every time he had to talk like this. He was sure he sounded like a particularly cheesy “historical” fantasy, and had to consciously avoid slipping into an awful British accent.

Maybe he should have brought Jason. Jason could have made it sound cool.

Danny’s best guess at formality was “no contractions”. Jason actually knew courtly manners from the Elizebethans to the Tokugawa shogunate.

At least it wasn’t like Nocturn expected better from him. He simply nodded, his expression unchanging.

“He is still sleeping, my king.” A flicker of annoyance skated across his face, gone before it was even there. “He is… not so resistant to my power as you are, but still exerts his own demands upon what dreams he will tolerate.”

Yeah, Danny had figured. Dan had damn near Ended his universe’s Nocturn, and he’d had to give Nocturn a chunk of his own power as the King to keep him safe enough to work on Dan at all. Keeping people unconscious was not usually in the Dream Lord’s power.

Honestly, Danny had been kinda hoping that all the time just in Soup Jail… the thermos might have made Dan a little more. Well. Not nicer? But. Less fussy about distractions.

He returned the nod a little awkwardly, offering a smile that he hoped wasn’t too sheepish.

“Yeah… yes. I was afraid of that. But… I want to speak with him. Perhaps make him a little more… amenable to your gifts. And maybe take him off your hands entirely, if all goes well.”

That did provoke a reaction, an eyebrow raising as interest lit Nocturn’s red eyes. Dan must be a real pain in the ass.

“It… can be arranged,” he said slowly, scanning Danny up and down for the first time. Looking for what, Danny wouldn’t even guess, but whatever it was he had no idea if Nocturn found it.

Danny nodded again, fighting the urge to fidget.

“Great… yeah. Yes. Good. Obviously not in physical forms, given his confinement, but.” He drew himself up, thinking back to all the shows he’d been watching with Jason over the last two weeks. Not many kings, but all sorts of stuffy nobility.

He tried to call up his best Liz Bennet.

“I would have you link our dreams, so that he need not wake, and we may speak entirely in your realm. Tomorrow night. Ah… I will… let you know how it goes?” He trailed off, and Nocturn let out a huff which might have been amusement or irritation.

Danny wasn’t gonna push for an aura read to check. He didn’t wanna know.

“I presume, my king, that I need not care how it goes until you ask that I remove him from my dreams. And in exchange for this…” he let the sentence hang, not actually asking for anything.

Technically, Danny didn’t have to give him anything. He could make it a Command, with the whole weight of the Infinite Realms behind his order. Nocturn would have no choice but to obey.

But he didn’t want to be a tyrant. And he’d expected to have to give something, and he’d come prepared.

A real, not entirely nice smile pulled at his lips.

“You must be tired of being confined to the Zone, and having to spend so much of your power catering to Dan’s dreams. For your ongoing service and assistance in this matter, I will give you the power to keep one single human asleep indefinitely, and you can give him any dreams you like.”

Now that definitely got the ghost’s attention, his whole posture stiffening, outline sharpening as he leaned in ever so slightly. There was a very real hunger in his gaze.

“Did you have a human in mind?” He asked, his voice a low hiss of want.

Firmly squashing any trace of discomfort, Danny nodded.

“The Joker.”

Nocturn’s eyes widened, and then a slow and far more genuine smile spread across his lips.

**

If he were being honest with himself, Vlad certainly hadn’t expected to hear from Wayne again so soon. They’d gotten along delightfully well the day after the gala, right up until Daniel’s little “rescue attempt”, which was just adorable.

Of course, Wayne had insisted any reconcilliation with Timothy or Richard would have to be between them as men, which was annoying. But Vlad could be magnanimous.

Thanks to Danielle and Daniel he was at least vaguely aware of what young people wanted, although Daniel was no longer a teenager. He’d never been a rich teenager though; doubtless the Drake-Wayne boy could afford any consoles or games he desired.

He was vaguely aware that Drake-Wayne was interested in technology, fully up to date with the workings of the company he was now CEO to.

Vlad wasn’t. He didn’t much care for what human technology could do without the boost of ectoplasm; Wayne Tech largely worked in communications devices and medical technology, all of which was easily reverse engineered and improved by Vlad’s own companies to run with ectoplasm.

It would mean far too great a loss to give the boy access to an ectoplasm battery… although if Daniel were cosying up to his brother, they’d have access to ectoplasmic technology soon anyway.

A loss to his corporate dominance, then, in exchange for a gain with his godson. It could only help their relationship if Vlad could endear himself to his future sons-in-law, and perhaps be yet more proof of his good intentions.

Of course, for it to be proof, an older battery wouldn’t have done. The technology remained proprietary, and the ecto batteries never broke down or lost charge (until Vlad wanted them to), so they rarely needed replacing, so Wayne Tech would need to be doing corporate espionage of their own to have any access at all (and be able to get past the little ectoplasmic tricks and traps that continued to befuddle poor dear Luthor’s attempts to steal his technology over at Lex Corp; Vlad did so enjoy reading of the corporate disasters that marked unsuccessful attempts).

A newer model of battery would make for a better gift. And an offer of a deal, to provide more for the next generation of Wayne Tech devices for only a meagre percentage. An apology fit for a king, or the regent of one, complete with diplomatic offers for the future.

Dick Grayson was some kind of police officer. Vlad just bought his department a suite of new computers and a new espresso machine. Simple.

He’d have liked to have it all delivered before he saw “Brucie” next, yet the man had been utterly intent on coming to see him as soon as possible, barely a week after their last meeting when he got in touch. That was unusual; Vlad usually had to be much more proactive to gain access to the kind of person worth overshadowing.

Not that he would overshadow Wayne now. Daniel had staked his claim rather firmly on the whole family, and Lady Gotham was not a spirit Vlad intended to cross. Honestly he was a little surprised she tolerated Daniel cuddling up to her pet socialites, yet the boy was king. She must approve of the match.

(Vlad might wish his own opinion mattered in such a situation, but Jason Todd had provided such a delightful opportunity to prove himself to Daniel that nothing else could touch it.)

Still, it was nice to know that Brucie at least already liked him. He’d made such a touching little speech to Jason at the gala, they simply had to be on better terms than he and Daniel, and hopefully he would also be on good terms with Daniel too by now.

He’d seemed very interested when talking to Vlad and the Mansons, and Vlad had talked up all of Daniel’s best traits; now they would have travelled back to Wayne Manor together and would surely be well acquainted. The man certainly looked enough like Jack Fenton for a sentimental soul like Daniel to get attached.

A slight grimace tugged at Vlad’s face as his limo pulled up to the airport. Really, that was the only downside with Brucie Wayne; it was like hanging out with a slightly more reasonably sized Jack. Intellect and all.

That would be trying over the man’s stay, but he had insisted on putting himself up in a hotel rather than staying at Vlad’s, and if he could just keep the two apart… Vlad reassured himself that the Fentons had gone to visit Jasmine over the holidays, and absolutely couldn’t have returned to town without him noticing.

Which, of course, was a thought as sure to summon Jack Fenton as an unwise wish to summon Desiree.

A large hand clapped across Vlad’s entire back just as he stepped out of the car, making him flinch.

“VLADDIE! Lovely to see ya, buddy! You’re not heading outta town again, are ya! You only just got back!” The man bellowed, and Vlad’s eyebrows twitched.

As if they weren’t both standing in front of the Arrivals lounge.

Perhaps Jasmine was making a late return, anything to avoid sharing a flight with her parents… it certainly couldn’t be Daniel, Vlad would have sensed him long before now. The boy couldn’t help travelling with a spectral fanfare these days.

He forced a polite smile onto his face, moving firmly towards the doors and hoping to lose the man inside.

“No, Jack, I’m here to receive a friend. As you are, I presume? I didn’t realize you were already back from your own trip.” He didn’t really bother listening to the answer, glancing around quickly to see if Madeline was also here. It would be nice to see her briefly…

Jack Fenton laughed boisterously, crowding along behind him far too close for comfort.

“Ah, that’s ol’ Vladdie! Sharp as a pin! Yeah, a colleague called and asked us to outfit some big wig visiting for his first trip to Amity Park! Maddie’s got the Spectre Deflector an’ a couple other toys, he’s some big tech guy from some other city, Gotham or something?”

For a second Vlad thought his ghost sense had somehow missed Daniel; the unmistakeable feeling of ice slithered down his spine. It took a moment to actually pinpoint the cause.

Gotham.

No.

He couldn’t be.

Vlad’s life could not be this cursed.

He’d done nothing to deserve this.

He’d fucking forgotten that Daniel was Jack and Madeline’s son, and had probably given Wayne his parents’ contact information.

He’d actually stopped walking as the impending dread washed over him, Jack leaving him behind by a few paces as they reached the terminal lounge that Brucie Wayne would be entering at any second.

He’d. Tried to emotionally prepare himself. To perhaps set up a meeting between the two parties. Where he could be on the other side of town.

But no, they were all here, and there was Madeline as resplendent as ever in her teal bodysuit, her arms filled with beeping and flashing Fenton junk. His heart still gave a flood of warmth at the sight of her, but that was all.

Just his heart. Not his core, not his Obsession. That was still a bit of a relief, every time. She’d made it quite clear that they couldn’t be friends while he was so fixated on her; on removing Jack.

He caught the moment that she spotted him past the exuberant and loving display she and Jack shared, as if they’d been parted for decades instead of minutes. Managed a small but genuine smile, and settled further when she smiled back.

Reserved, certainly, especially in the wake of her obvious passion. But it was a real smile, and meant far more to him than those she’d faked for Jack’s sake at the height of his mania.

Madeline’s friendship was infinitely more precious than any notion of possessing her, and he had been so lucky to have any left to rekindle by the time he’d finally gotten control of himself. They may never be as close as all three of them had once been in college, but for Madeline he could even smile and embrace Jack.

(Which had become immensely easier when he’d been able to rationalise that Jack Fenton was simply incapable of the intellect, malice, or even comprehension to have killed him. All three of them had worked on the portal; it was simply poor luck that had him take the brunt of the accident and the ecto-acne that followed.

Or perhaps good luck; after all, he was now essentially immortal, rich beyond his wildest dreams, and powerful. He’d finally acquired sufficient leverage to have effective control over the Packers, even if he couldn’t own them outright! He even had Madeline’s son for his godson, and one day the boy might even accept him.

They had all eternity to find out.)

His reluctance waning slightly with Madeline’s company, he made his way to join the couple; he may as well stand beside them, if they’d come for the same man.

Madeline even rewarded him with a handshake, and he easily resisted the brief urge to kiss her hand or try to extend the gesture. He truly was growing and improving all the time.

“Madeline. Jack tells me you are also here for Brucie Wayne? Making sure he’s safe for his visit to our fair city?” He asked cheerfully, nodding to the pile in her arms.

It didn’t even hurt when Madeline shot a beaming smile at her beloved husband.

“Oh! Yes, and of course we simply had to get to know him. Danny’s already told us that Brucie knows about his condition, though we’re never to mention Jason’s of course,” she added sharply, giving her husband a stern look which somehow cleared the ridiculous distance to fly right over his head, then smiled back at Vlad, “but since our boys are getting along so well he’s almost family anyway!”

That was an interesting tidbit which Vlad hadn’t previously been privy to; he hadn’t known just how far Daniel trusted Brucie. Not far enough for the details on his own son, which was… interesting.

Not that Vlad would have said anything; perish the thought. One simply did not out another ghost of any description. It was rude. And would have no benefits for him anyway.

Interesting to know that the man was in on the fact that halfas existed, if not how close he was to one of course. Perhaps he could get some extra points by sharing his own secret?

That would wait until he had some idea of how discrete Brucie was capable of being. Evidence suggested that it would be “not at all”, but… if Daniel had shared his…

It seemed Vlad would need to get more out of this little visit than he’d expected.

As if specifically to disrupt his thoughts, the man of the hour appeared at just that moment, all broad smiles even fresh from a commercial airline of all things. Not even a private jet, yet he still looked freshly composed and perfect even amidst the bedraggled public.

It was frankly unfair, but Vlad didn’t have time to sulk before he had to dodge one of Jack’s massive arms flying into the air to wave, apparently recognising the man on sight as well. It shouldn’t be unusual of Bruce Wayne, yet Vlad highly doubted Jack could have recognised the man a week ago.

Celebrities that were alive were a closed book to all four Fentons, as far as he knew.

“BRUCIE!” Jack bellowed, waving enthusiastically with both arms like he wasn’t head and shoulders taller than the entire rest of the building.

Even Brucie was momentarily taken aback by the sheer size of the man, which Vlad wasn’t remotely bitter about anymore. Then he clocked Vlad beside the Fentons and that perfect, vapid smile slid across his face again.

“Vlad! Won’t you introduce me to your friends?” He asked easily, ever charming as he slid over to join them.

Maddie and Jack began sizing him up immediately, not even waiting to say hello before grabbing at his arms to lift and turn them. Vlad sighed heavily and gave a tight smile of his own, Brucie looking quite alarmed to be manhandled by such a tall man as Jack Fenton.

“Brucie, it’s good to see you again. These are my friends, Drs Maddie and Jack Fenton. I believe an associate of yours has asked them to… outfit you for your stay in our town?” He asked smoothly, not even tripping over the word “friends” anymore.

Not even when it meant Jack. It meant Madeline, and they were a package deal. He’d come to accept that, and the place she’d allowed him in their life. That he only had because Jack had never noticed how their relationship had changed.

Shaking away the thoughts, he refocused on Brucie, who’d turned that so charming smile on the Fentons and was now allowing them to fit him with a Spectre Deflector, one of their wrist lasers, and… well, he had to assume the large and oddly rigid pocket-square had to be another of their new inventions.

Very new, since Jack hadn’t showered him in its praises yet, but he was quite happily trying to sell it to the head of Wayne Enterprises entirely unaware that he’d likely have to get the Drake-Wayne boy to get any actual decisions made.

Brucie did at least look fascinated, and managed to ask just enough questions to keep Jack going. Honestly, if Vlad wasn’t careful Brucie would keep them trapped there all day… although that might not be all bad.

If he could leave the man in the variably capable hands of the elder Fentons, he could at least get some actual work done. Get the details of the battery proposal for Timothy finalized…

Brightening up a little, Vlad clapped his hands.

“Why, I have a great idea! Jack, Maddie, I’m sure Brucie would love to take a quick tour of the portal, to really see what makes our little town special.”

After all, Brucie would certainly want to take the time to get to know Daniel’s other family, and if Vlad could just ensure that all the time he spent with Jack was away from Vlad… well, he’d also have a brief reprieve from them both, guaranteed.

All three of his companions were visibly surprised by the suggestion, with just the faintest flicker of suspicion in dear Madeline’s eyes… for her alone, he gave his best conciliatory smile.

“And I can think of no one better to prepare Brucie for the delights of our little town. They are our pre-eminent ectologists,” he told Brucie, even bestowing Jack with a mostly sincere smile.

As always, he swelled with pride at the compliment, and Madeline’s face softened. She gave a very tiny nod, her approval still chasing the warmth of a summer breeze in his heart. Worth the sacrifice.

That left Bruce, surprised and delighted as ever, smiling with as much thought behind his eyes as a hamster.

“What’s this about a portal? You’ve told me all sorts of tales of ghosts in Amity Park, is that what this is about?”

A bit of a surprise to Vlad that Daniel hadn’t already mentioned it, but the boy had been…. Distracted by Jason Todd. Perhaps it wasn’t so surprising.

Vlad kept his smile bright, clapping his hands.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. Jack gives such wonderful tours. And then perhaps once you’ve finished there and had a look around town, I could take Brucie off your hands for dinner and let you get back to work?” He asked somewhat hopefully.

Small, controlled doses of both mountainous men. That would be fine. It would have to be.

Madeline did truly hesitate, and he knew the passion for her work would be nudging at her. She was a dedicated scientist, as much as she loved their “field work”; too long away from the lab made her itchy.

Jack, of course, didn’t notice, clapping Vlad firmly on the back.

“Nonsense, Vladdie! You just come along down to Fentonworks when you’re done bustling about and we’ll cook you up a Fenton Family Feast along with our guest!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” Wayne began as Vlad struggled to think of an argument.

The Fentons having anything even edible in the house was no guarantee, let alone the time to prepare a real meal. He was quite sure they’d been subsisting on ectoplasm alone since before they even recreated the portal.

Unfortunately, knowing Jack, there was only one way out of it.

“My staff have already begun preparing dinner, and I would hate to put all their work to waste,” he said silkily, making a mental note to message his assistant and have her set up something suitable. He’d been planning on a restaurant, but personal plans were harder to change. “And of course if you have the time we would love to have you both over as well.”

He didn’t even have to grit his teeth to finish the sentence, didn’t even have to focus solely on Madeline. It barely even twinged. That old, hateful Obsession would have no power over him.

Proof of his own progress put a more genuine note in his smile too, and Jack beamed back as innocently as ever.

“Aw Vladdie, that’d be great! So, the portal, a tour of Amity Park, and then dinner at Vladdie’s! We can tell you some of those good ol’ college stories from back in the day!” He told Bruce enthusiastically, slapping him on the back hard enough that the man stumbled.

Part of Vlad was beginning to wonder if he should have sent the poor man a warning packet on the Fentons. But then, his boy was courting Daniel. Surely that would have been Daniel’s job, if he’d wanted the man warned.

Brucie looked between them all with that same innocent smile, clearly not following… but he must be used to that.

“Oh, I’d like a chance to get to know the town myself for a little bit… y’know, stretch my legs a bit and get regrounded after the flight. Is there anywhere I could just take a little walk, maybe a look around? This all sounds like real important stuff and if I go in all fuzzy-headed I just know I won’t make heads or tails of it,” he laughed, waving a hand self-deprecatingly.

Vlad hesitated. The Amity Park (and ancients he still hated the name but it was better than Amity Park Park) would be the obvious choice, or perhaps the shopping district would be ideal. Yet since the Fentons were already here…

This time it was his own back that Jack’s meaty paw slammed down on. The only reason Vlad didn’t stumble the same way Wayne had was his resilience as a halfa. And even then it was a close thing.

“Sure, sure! Tell ya what, Vladdie, you run along and get to all your important mayor duties,” Jack tipped Bruce and Madeline a wink, clearly indicating that they were all going to have a lot more fun, “and we’ll take ol’ Brucie down to the park! And then when you’re feeling better we’ll get you right to Fentonworks for the portal tour and some of Maddie’s famous fudge! It’s a secret family recipe, there’s nothing better for getting your noodle cookin’!”

Vlad did not sag in relief. He had far too much pride for that. Instead he looked to Wayne for agreement, only raising one perfectly poised eyebrow.

“I hope you won’t think me a poor host if I pass you off so soon…” he trailed off, not quite hinting his own preference. Certainly not obviously enough that Brucie Wayne would notice.

And indeed the man just beamed at him, giving Jack a firm pat on the back too.

“Not at all, that sounds just the thing! Just a couple minutes out in some fresh air away from that tube and I’ll be right as rain! We’ll see you again at dinner, Vladdie?” He added with that far too charming smile, immediately picking up on the nickname.

That. Was pretty much the biggest thing Vlad had been hoping to avoid. His smile strained a little around the edges.

“That sounds perfect, Brucie.”

At least he’d have a little time alone to recompose himself.

**

Danny… dithered. That was the only way Jason could think to describe it. He’d been in an odd mood since he’d called that afternoon, and while Jason was getting used to Danny completely forgetting to mention important things, this looked like the opposite.

And given what he’d just blurt out apropos of nothing, whatever had him opening his mouth and abruptly reconsidering couldn’t be good.

He’d texted and said he needed to talk to Jason about something important (a message that totally never caused any additional anxieties), and then called the minute his last class ended (which was so much more reassuring), but when Jason dropped by the university to pick him up… Danny insisted they go grocery shopping.

So now here they were, an hour later, and Danny was reading the full nutritional information on every box of cereal.

Finally running out of patience, Jason plucked the Frosted Berry Crunch Whatever from his hands and tossed it into the cart. Danny was already protesting as he turned, but Jason and the cart had a head start up the aisle.

“C’mon, your highness, we’re putting at least two vegetables in here and then we’re going home.”

Because see, Jason knew what decision paralysis was like. He knew what brain fog was like. He also knew what procrastinating was like, and there was only so much he was willing to put up with it.

Especially when he was beginning to suspect that the tingling at the base of his skull had less to do with Danny being accidentally ominous, and more to do with Danny possibly actually being in danger.

What the hell in Gotham could lay a finger on the half-dead king of ghosts? Malnutrition, sure, given the state of their cart, but Jason didn’t think that was it. He’d have been summoned by the contents of the dorm fridge alone if it were that simple, weeks ago.

If Bruce had still been in town, he’d have suspected that asshole was up to something, but he’d flitted merrily away to Amity Park. Which… was still concerning, but Jason figured that his magic knight sense or whatever would at least give him some sense of how immediate the danger was.

This didn’t feel distant, like something all the way in Bumfuck, Idaho. This felt close, immediate, and the way Danny was acting? Only made him more sure.

Which meant the threat to Danny was probably Danny himself, surprising precisely no one and least of all one regent of Time.

So what the hell was Jason supposed to do about it? Other than not put up with the prevaricating.

Obviously Danny wasn’t going to just take it lying down, though. He was already half a Wayne that way.

“Hey! If I’m the king, don’t I get to decide what we do!” He argued half heartedly, still following Jason down the aisle.

Jason stuck his tongue out at him over his shoulder.

“Be grateful I’m letting you pick the vegetables.”

Danny opened his mouth on what was sure to be an utterly scathing retort (not), and was immediately side tracked by something at the end of the aisle. Which he immediately snatched up three boxes of.

“Oh no way I didn’t think these were real! I’m picking these!”

Jason fielded one on its way past, and glared at the cheap cardboard box.

“Lucky Charms pancake mix? Fucking seriously?” He asked incredulously, turning the box to look for nutritional information. Because he liked horror fiction.

(And a little bit to mock Danny’s earlier bullshit.)

Danny snatched the box out of his hand and added another two to the cart on good measure.

“Hey, fuck you, I was craving the hell out of exactly these way back when you went to put Tuck’s name on the gala list! This is a gift from the universe to make up for my shitty life and I will not be denied!” He declared dramatically, even throwing up an arm in full Shakespearian declamation.

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Jason scooped up three of the boxes, now turning the sceptical glare on Danny.

“Dude, if you want pancakes that bad, I’ll make them myself. This is just an overpriced marketing gimmick!” He shook one of the boxes for good measure.

Danny snatched that one back right away too and stuck his tongue out at him.

“Listen, I’ll take you up on that too, but I’m getting these! If I only wanted marshmallow pancakes I could make those myself, I need the soulless crunch of Lucky Charms!”

And alright, Jason’s aura reading was definitely still off (at least around Bruce), but he was pretty sure he was getting better at projecting specific words and feelings. Because he managed to project some combination of disbelief and garlic powder hard enough that Danny punched him on the arm.

“That was literally one time!”

“And I don’t want garlic pancakes,” Jason shot back, mildly surprised at how much the punch actually hurt.

Danny stuck his tongue out at him and went for the display of boxes again. Rolling his eyes, Jason scooped the other man over his shoulder instead, hauling him and the cart away.

“Fine, fine! Get your boxes of garbage, you fuckin’ raccoon, but you don’t need the whole stand and we’re leaving,” he declared firmly, one hand still firmly pinning a wriggly fuck and trying not to think about how optional Danny’s bones were.

Danny grumbled something unintelligible but went limp (not no-bones limp though) and let Jason carry him to the cashier. Who smiled as she checked them out, but didn’t comment on Jason unloading the cart or bagging their supplies one-handed.

Danny gave a feeble wriggle of protest, both when they reached the register and when they left, but subsided quickly back into a sulk each time.

Which… convinced Jason that there was something wrong more than calmed him. Danny wasn’t one to miss an opportunity to tussle. Lie low until someone let down their guard, sure. Give up? No.

When Danny even let himself be tossed onto the back of the bike without complaint, Jason made up his mind.

They weren’t going back to the dorms. They were going back to one of his safe houses again. If Danny noticed before Jason pulled into a garage distinctly not near the university, he didn’t comment.

Hell, all he actually said when unloading the groceries was a terribly blasé “so is this a kidnapping then?” To which Jason obviously responded “yes now shut up”.

Luckily there wasn’t much perishable in their bags, and it fit in the slightly beat up fridge that had definitely been washed since the last time he stored human body parts in it (probably).

Danny took his kidnapping with good grace, flopping onto the only slightly beaten up couch to watch Jason fuss over the fridge. In between playing with his fingers.

Because he was definitely still procrastinating.

Leaving everything that wasn’t likely to go off bagged, Jason dropped onto the couch beside him and stuck a finger in his ear.

“Now tell me what the hell you want to talk about.”

Danny hesitated for a moment, visibly torn, and Jason pointedly licked his finger and held it up as a visual threat.

“No bullshit Danny. I was a fucking Robin, I know when some dipshit engineering student is trying to lie to me.”

Danny squirmed a moment longer, but caved when Jason reached menacingly for his ear again.

“Okay, okay! It’s… it’s not actually a big deal, alright? I’m just blowing it up in my head into something it really isn’t, and yeah, being a dipshit.” He gave Jason a self deprecating grin, and Jason gave him the respect of three seconds of consideration.

Then resumed his attack on Danny’s ears.

“That’s not an answer, asshole!”

This time Danny made an actual attempt to fend him off, and Jason was a little surprised by how strong he was. Sure, Danny’d easily hauled him around plenty, but that was when he’d been cooperating.

That was very different from Danny just grabbing his arm and Jason… completely failing to even budge him. He couldn’t even twist free, Danny’s grip was immovable as a rock.

Being hot also wasn’t going to make Jason any less worried, though, so he nobly ignored the way that made his insides squirm. Sobered when he realized that Danny’s smile had faded.

He was worrying his lower lip instead, and let Jason go when he pulled away more gently.

“This is not reassuring,” Jason prodded, settling in to sit beside him.

Danny gave him another attempt at a smile, still far too worried to be convincing.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the problem. I’ve been turning it over in my head all day, and like I said, it’s really not a big deal… but there’s no way to say it that doesn’t make it sound like a big deal.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at that, but did not react further. Because he was a mature adult, who could be calm about things, even when Danny was being an ominous piece of shit.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that?” He offered sceptically, and this time Danny swatted at him with all the force of a baby kitten. Stark contrast from the immovable grip, but Jason wasn’t going to guess why.

“Oh, shut up. Look, it’s just…” he subsided into silence again.

Jason considered him, this time not just with the hyper-observant eye of a Robin, but with his aura too. He was more used to reading Danny, and Danny actually communicated his emotions.

Kinda.

When he didn’t have to use words.

Which Jason wasn’t criticizing for the obvious (massively hypocritical) reasons.

It was confused at first, tangled and muddied on the surface. Jason took a breath too, settling into the silence, and stopped pushing. Let the right feelings come to him.

Regret. Danny regretted saying anything? Regretted letting Jason know anything at all? Little shit.

Guilt. No guess there, really, but Jason knew all about randomized guilt attacks.

Reluctance. And he didn’t need any magical fucking powers to guess that one, thanks. And underneath it all…

Yearning. Fear. That, at least, was more reassuring; Danny did actually want to tell him. And the fear didn’t even catch and snarl at Jason’s core, so he… didn’t think it was a fear of danger.

No points for guessing that either. He was scared of how Jason might react to whatever the fuck he was all knotted up about. Maybe of how he was already reacting; with no fucking clues, Jason couldn’t begin to guess just how concerned he should actually be.

Or what Danny could be afraid that he’d do.

Well, statistically speaking, Danny probably wasn’t scared that Jason would just. Be fucking chill. About whatever this crap was. Because that didn’t usually freak people out, not because Jason wasn’t usually chill about pretty much everything (the Pit’s lack of chill was not his fault and totally did not count).

Taking another breath, a little surprised that it was only the second since, Jason calmed down. Forcibly. Because winding Danny up more wasn’t going to help. He tried to project calm-understanding-acceptance, although he was pretty sure just fucking do it was sneaking in too.

Danny was quiet for another long moment, not even looking in Jason’s direction let alone meeting his eyes. Which was why Jason knew exactly what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.

“I’ll… look, I’ll tell you in the morning, alright? Promise.”

Jason rolled his eyes. Like he wasn’t an expert in exactly this kind of shifty bullshit.

“Right, so whatever dumbass shit you’re doing goes down tonight. Good to know,” he snarked back, and Danny tossed both hands into the air.

“The dumbass part is not going down tonight, I don’t even know if I’m going to be doing the dumbass part yet!” He protested. Futilely.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him, waiting a few seconds after Danny had quieted. Just to prove a point.

At least he’d admitted part of it was going to be a dumbass decision. That was a start.

“So what is going down tonight then?” Jason prodded, once Danny was sufficiently squirming.

Danny puffed up his cheeks, clearly considering another smart ass retort, and surprised Jason a little by blowing it all out with a sigh of his own.

“Tonight, I see if it’s even worth trying the dumbass part. I’m not going to be in any physical danger,” he added quickly, raising both hands and rolling his eyes like he didn’t run around the shady parts of Gotham for fun and no profit, “honestly, the worst that’s gonna happen is I have to deal with some home truths. Nothing can hurt me, I’m fine.”

Jason noted the qualifier. Nodded down the hall towards what passed for a bedroom.

“Then you won’t mind spending the night to be sure.”

Not like it’d put him out; he’d not had any plans for the night, beyond more practice on going intangible at will… and more importantly, also becoming tangible at will.

Danny grimaced at their surroundings.

“Dude, this place is a wreck. I don’t even want you spending the night here,” he joked feebly. And deflated a bit when Jason just stared at him. Sighed heavily.

“Look, it’s not gonna make any difference where I sleep, or where you sleep, cuz nothing’s going to happen! That you can do anything about,” he added almost under his breath, and Jason fought back a wave of something hot and green that felt like jealousy-anger-denial-concern-offence all at once.

Because that was different from Danny wanting to run off on his own where Jason couldn’t protect him. That was Danny thinking that Jason wasn’t capable of protecting him. And that hurt.

“So what happens if it all goes wrong?” He asked quickly when Danny flinched, clearly reading all that and more from his aura. Well, tough titties for him, Jason’s pecs were rock hard and they weren’t gonna talk about it.

For a moment, Danny was definitely about to argue. Jason could all but taste the words lining up to be said. Then he sighed and flopped in against Jason, aura a gentle apology that made absolutely nothing better.

“That’s what I’m saying, man. There is literally nothing that can go wrong. I’m gonna go to sleep, I’m gonna have a dream, Nocturn’s gonna hook me up with a favour and then we both wake up in the morning. Nocturn can’t even make me fall asleep or stay asleep, and he doesn’t want the damn crown any more than I do.”

A wry smile tugged at Danny’s lips, and he reached up without looking to poke a finger into Jason’s mouth.

“And even if he did, I can fucking take him. I kicked his ass when I was fourteen and a nobody. There’s literally no risk here… besides hearing something I don’t wanna hear. But hey, what’s life without a little more emotional damage?”

Jason considered this, reasonably and maturely, like an adult, and bit Danny’s finger. With it out of his mouth, he gave the scrawny king another gentle nudge.

He definitely didn’t believe Danny was telling him everything. But he could read enough honesty through everywhere they were touching to know that Danny did also believe everything he was telling him.

“And you’ll tell me everything in the morning?” He prodded warily.

Didn’t actually smile at the wave of relief which coursed through the whole apartment as Danny finally relaxed.

“For sure. And then I’ll decide if I do the dipshit part.”

“We’ll decide,”Jason corrected firmly.

Danny snorted.

“Hey, I’m your king. If I wanna be a dipshit I can be a dipshit.”

“You may be King Dipshit all you want, but you’re not doing it alone,” Jason shot back, reluctantly pulling out a brand new trump card Frostbite had let slip last time. Definitely not smirking as he said it. “So you’ll be bringing a brand new baby ghost into whatever brand of dipshit you’re doing.”

Tensed to argue with whatever he said (although still more playfully than he’d been before), Danny inflated for a moment, then deflated with a hefty sigh and slumped.

“Oh that’s so not fucking fair.”

“I’ll tell Lady Gotham on you,” Jason added for good measure, with a vicious triumph.

“She’ll tell you not to go with me!” Danny protested, still utterly futilely.

Lady Gotham looked after her own. Not one part of that included even vaguely discouraging them from throwing themselves face first into danger.

She’d push him in, if she thought it needed doing.

“No she won’t.”

Danny groaned heavily and lifted himself up solely so that he could flop harder and heavier onto Jason. With, yeah, all the weight of a wet baby kitten. Jason didn’t even give him the satisfaction of a huff of air, which did make him smile even if it was reluctantly.

“Alright, fuck you. Can we stay at one of your good places instead, if we’re still doing totally unnecessary slumber parties? I wasn’t kidding, this is a fucking dump. And I live in a dorm. You coulda mentioned this place when we first started sprucing up your haunt, cuz it desperately needs it.”

And listen.

Robin training.

Lived with Bruce.

Even slightly self aware.

Jason knew exactly what deflection sounded like, even when done far more expertly. It was a choice to let Danny get away with it.

But knight pact or no, Danny was his friend, not his boss. And that also meant Jason wasn’t his dad, or anyone who could actually force him to do anything.

If it actually got Danny staying overnight, he’d do it. Soothe the part of him that fretted even with Danny’s assurances, make it easier to tell him in the morning, give him a chance to try and feed Danny decent pancakes over soulless commercial profiteering? All wins.

So he shrugged.

“Hey, this one’s closest to the campus. You got any morning classes?” He’d been intending to let Danny go back to his dorm (after he talked), so he hadn’t cared that it was one of his less cared for haunts.

For an actual sleepover though? Well, they’d already had one at one of his better places, nearly had another at his actual home. They could go wherever Danny wanted.

Danny made a face like he’d said something weird (or he’d forgotten he had classes), then pulled out his phone to check his schedule.

“Nah, I got a tutorial at eleven thirty but I can probably skip it,” he said a moment later, shooting Jason a wary look. Like he knew there was a trap in Jason agreeing with him, but wasn’t sure how to counter it.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him.

“What class?”

Danny rolled his eyes right back, glanced at his phone again, and stuffed it in his pocket.

“Just Mechanical Engineering. We’ll be starting a major project next week, but I know what I’m doing already and the prof cleared it. You can just drop me off at the dorm if you’re that worried,” he added, slightly smug with this new suggestion.

Jason considered it for a moment, mostly for the theatrics. Then he shrugged. He’d never willingly skipped a class, but it had still happened more than once. But he could still call Danny’s bluff.

“Sure, I’ll bring a pillow and camp out on the floor.” He’d never been back to Danny’s room, largely because other than the bed, there was barely enough floor for Danny to lie down on, let alone someone built like Jason.

Danny’s eyes narrowed, and Jason grinned. Try and bluff a bat; they were the kings of commit to the bit. Jason could and would squish himself to sleep damn near anywhere.

Clearly unable to deny that, Danny finally rolled his eyes and flopped back against the couch cushions instead.

“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. All the groceries are in the fridge,” he added when Jason stuck his tongue out at him.

True, but not an issue. Untangling them enough to get up, Jason made for the kitchen.

“And they’ll go back in the fridge at my place.” He hesitated barely a second, but he’d already made up his mind, hadn’t he? As soon as the subject came up. “The place at the library nice enough for you?”

It was his home. Sort of. His real home, or the one he wanted to be, except that it still didn’t feel like it yet. Because he wanted to keep it nice, clean perfect and unspoiled, so he never really used it.

Having Danny over to watch truly awful sitcoms in the New Year had kinda highlighted that while all his nicest stuff was there, it wasn’t going to be a home until he’d lived in it. And having Danny there had helped start that too.

And sure, it’d be funny to use all the good stuff on Danny; give the world’s most reluctant king the royal treatment.

Little fuck was already pulling faces again, squirming on the couch.

“Man, that place is way too nice… I was scared to touch the floors.”

Which was kinda exactly what Jason had thought too. But he had to get over that part eventually; he could clean pretty much anything up. But living was messy, and apparently only more so for the half dead.

So he flipped Danny off.

“You can float. Just don’t cover anything in garlic powder this time,” he added with a snicker.

Danny flipped him off back, grinning reluctantly.

“And again, fuck you that was one time!” He protested with extra drama.

“Unless you make it a habit,” Jason shot back, restuffing groceries into bags. Danny hesitated a moment longer, then visibly caved.

Felt like agreeing to wait for morning had been the right move. They could both make concessions.

“Alright, but swing by the campus first. I wanna grab a change of clothes for tomorrow, I’m not doing another walk of shame,” he teased with a sly smirk, and Jason’s heart skipped.

For no reason.

Totally unnecessary.

It wasn’t like the memory of Danny running around in his clothes for a day was going to spark anything in him. Wait, actually…

“Yeah, you can grab my shirt too, I need it back,” Jason said with a snicker.

Danny’d gotten most of his stuff back to him within a week. Except the Soup Powered Fuck Machine shirt, which he’d worn to more than one of their adventures through the city.

Jason was well aware he wasn’t getting that shirt back. He even agreed it was much funnier on Danny.

(And, well, ridiculously oversized, which meant that once jackets and sweaters came off Danny still tended to tie it into a crop top like a country girl in her boyfriend’s shirt. It was cute.

Jason was maybe considering giving in and letting Steph get him in a crop top.)

Sure enough, Danny stuck his tongue out at him, reluctantly hauling himself from the couch.

“No idea what you’re talking about, I gave you all of your clothes back weeks ago.” The odds that Danny would bring that shirt along, just to wear tomorrow? High.

Chuckling softly, Jason grabbed the bags.

“Oh, then I must be mistaken. Clearly all of your clothes are actually the right size, right?” He asked sarcastically.

Danny nodded archly anyway, as regal as an offended cat as he flounced to the door.

“The right size is whatever size I want them to be,” he declared airily, and Jason… couldn’t argue with that. And then just as Jason had locked the door behind them and was reshouldering the bags, Danny turned back suddenly, all airs and graces apparently forgotten.

“Oh, and I need a thigh selfie from you. There’s some nerds in my class totally obsessed with Red Hood, but obviously yours are better.”

Jason didn’t quite drop anything breakable. But that was only because they hadn’t bought anything breakable.

Boxes of Lucky Charms pancakes spilled across the floor.

———————

And there we have it! 😁 our first timeskip, a couple plot beats all set up, and maaaaybe a little hope that by the end of next chapter we’ll have one less secret!

And Bruce is improving! Ish. Look how good he did though, said sorry and everything! And now he’s being subjected to Vlad and the Fentons, which can only possibly go well!

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 1

Prompt: Costume Pairing: San x fem!reader WC: 1,900 Summary: When you and your boyfriend have a minor disagreement on what to do for your halloween costumes, you hatch a plan to have him see your side.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent San or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. 

TW/CW under the cut

TW/CW: Sort of petplay, reader called “kitty”, “kitten” as well as “babe” and “sweetie”, oral (m. receiving), unprotected intercourse, finishing inside, tail plug mentioned. I think that’s about it.

Staring into the monochrome abyss of San’s closet you huff. “Babe? What are we wearing for Hongjoong’s Halloween party?”  He doesn’t turn from his game, frantic clicks of the mouse filing the space where his reply should be.  “Babe?” You ask again, foolishly hopeful.  More clicking, punctuated by a flood of curses under his breath.  You purse your lips and turn to him, the silhouette of his chair blocking him. “San?”  His fist slams into the table, “SHIT! Sorry. Dead. I got 1 minute. What? Sorry.”  “Costume. Halloween party?”  “I was thinking we’d buy a couples-”  “BUY?” Your eyes bug incredulously. The thought opens wide a can of childhood trauma. Years of your parents insisting that you create your costumes with clothes either from the second hand store or existing closet pieces with minimal single use articles. While others got to dress as Jesse from Toy Story or Cinderella, you had to figure out your best approximation of what a witch would look like in modern dress.  San’s brows furrow in confusion. “What? Yes? How else do you get a costume?”  “Where is your spirit of creation?! I might as well dress up like a cat if you’re just going to buy some shitty costume.”  San rolls his eyes, exasperated. “You can’t make a cat into a couples costume.”  “You go ahead and buy the costumes. I’ll put together mine and show you how much better it is.”

 It’s manipulative, you know it is, as you examine yourself in the mirror. You’d probably never wear this ensemble out, but it was about the message. Fuzzy ears clipped to the top of your head matched beautifully with the tail plug tickling the back of your thighs from under your skirt. It was almost unfair, almost.

 Leaning against the doorframe you watch him click away, unaware of the treat sitting mere meters away from him. You knock and wait patiently with a small smirk tugging at your lips.  “He-holy shit,” San turns and stops in his tracks, eyes racking over your body. Whatever he was doing or going to do long forgotten he launches himself from the computer chair. He whole body throbs for a second as his arms tighten around you and lift, moving you with ease. For a second he considers tossing you fully onto the mattress but decides better, it would be a waste instead placing you in the center of the bedroom. “Such a pretty kitty,” San purrs, pushing your hair behind your ear. Nails scratching lightly at your scalp, his eyes shine as as shiver runs down your body.  “So you like it?” You tug slightly at the half gloves covering your wrist, smoothing them taut to you. Small rubber paw prints adorn the palms, soft and squishy and pink. Your stockings have them too, just at the ball of the foot, with matching pretty pink bows at the tops of the thighs. You twirl, tripping lightly as the rubber paws grip the ground more than you’re prepared for. San’s arms wrap around you again and secure you as his chest blocking your tumble.  “Maybe a little dangerous to wear out,” he muses, hand trailing your spine.  “We’ll have to take care of that, won’t we kitty?” His mind feels hazy as the blood flow redirects southwards. He shouldn’t be as attracted to this outfit as he is. You just look so cute, so so SO cute it makes his head swim.

 It’s impossible to hide the pulse of interest in his sweatpants, comfy and breathable grey cotton leaving nothing to the imagination. “Take care of what?” You bat your eyelashes dumbly, prolonging the game. Your hands skim down to the waistband of his pants, feeling the flex of his lower abs as his breath catches. His own hand pushes up the back of your skirt, tugging lightly at the tail, stirring the plug within you just enough to make you whine.  “Don’t worry kitty, just follow me,” he smiles, palm cupping your ass. “get on your knees for me, won’t you?”  You’ve never dropped to your knees faster, looking up at his toned body with wide eyes. He barely moves his head to look down at you, only his eyes following. Your mouth waters, staring at the tented outline pressing insistently to the fabric.  “Be a good kitty and open your mouth for me,” his thumb strokes your cheek, your jaw softening and falling open in his hand. One handed, he pushes the top of his pants down, thick cock springing from the confines. Heavy and musky he taps the head on your outstretched  tongue, sucking in air through his teeth. It the eager twinkle in your eye as you patiently wait for his next instruction that stokes the fire in his gut. “That’s it, now just the tip sweetie, just a little lick for me,” he coaxes.

 Tongue flicking gently against the underside you listen for his breathy moan, mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. You barrage him with sweet kitten licks all over the head of his dick. As much as he can control his body he couldn’t control his expression, fighting to keep his eyes open his eyelids flutter. “Li’e tha’?” You ask, words slurred with your tongue lolling out.  “Just like that,” he sighs, “just keep your mouth open babe, let me do the work.” Letting the weight of his member rest heavily on your tongue you hold your head still, eyes fixed upwards, gazing at his face. Gathering your hair into a loose fist at the base of your scalp, his hips press forward into your inviting heat. It’s barely halfway down before he feels the resistant tight ring of your throat against him. Hazily he shallowly thrusts against it, the sound of your soft gags awakening something primal in him. Tears welling in your eyes you work hard to breath through your nose as he loses himself briefly to the rhythm. “Doin’ so well-,” he gasps, “a lil’ more. Such a good obedient kitty. A lil’ more for me.”

 Your core throbs impatiently, gut twisting and tightening. His choked back moans and lack of oxygen have you lightheaded, your own hand wandering between your thighs to provide some relief to your unattended sex. Subtle twitches of his thighs and cock tell you he’s close, an unrepressed moan burbling up from your lungs has him retreating quickly, strands of spit and salty precum bridging the gap in your bodies.  “Don’ wan’ cum?” You gulp and gasp, wiping your lips on the back of the arm warmers.  San shakes his head, eyes unfocused and breathing heavily.  You don’t have time to question why before he is pulling you up by your forearms and tossing you face down into the unmade sheets of the bed like you were little more than a misplaced pillow. He’s on you nearly as fast, hand running up the back of your thighs to your slit.  “Practically dripping,” he growls and giggles all at once, giddy. You push back on his hand with a moan.  “All for you,” your voice is horse and ragged.  “Good kitty.”

 The blunt pressure of his cock breaching your entrance forces a harsh exhale from you. Your skirt is bunched and balled into his fists at your waist, little more than makeshift handles for him to use as he pushes his way into your tight heat. The slickness of your arousal eases the push as his hips roll against you, deeper and deeper with each stroke until he’s fully seated in your cunt. Elated, you wiggle back at him, shaking the tail still snuggly held in by the plug.  San marvels at how your walls stretch and hug to accommodate his thickness. The audio visual experience of your small moans and tight hole eagerly sucking him back dulls his wits. For a moment he drops the skirt to palm your ass, spreading you so he can better watch himself disappear as he shallowly fucks into you, absentmindedly stroking the fur of the tail draped down your back. It’s just enough to jostle the plug, tight ring of muscle flexing to hold it in.  Your chest tightens and vision blurs, elbows faltering and falling cheek first into the mattress. “It feels good,” you try to say, only bubbles of spit and moans managing to make their way out of your mouth.  “You’re so fucked,” San laughs as his hips snap into you faster. “You’re so hot.”  “Fuuuuck,” you groan in agreement. “I’m fuuuuucked.” The words bounce with the shaking of your body, uncontrolled and automatic. San fists your strip of a skirt, using it as leverage to fuck into you harder and faster. You can hardly breathe as your orgasm rolls over you, one after another, walls clenching and spasming around his cock. Fingers claw at the bed, twitching as you pant and groan and swear underneath him.  He drops his hold on your skirt, unceremoniously allowing you to crumple to the bed as he pulls from you.  “Nooo,” you whine pitifully at the loss of sensation. Exhaustion plagues your muscles but your gut needs more, craves more. You ragdoll as he pushes you to your back, clambering between your thighs again. It’s rougher than he’s every been with you. You stomach flutters and flips and he practically folds you in half, pressing your knees up to your armpits and sliding back into you.  “Don’t worry kitty, you’ll get your treat,” he murmurs in your ear, breath tickling your jaw.  This angle is a different kind of intense, his body weight heavy on your lungs, restricting your airflow just enough to have you buzzing. His biceps flex as he holds himself and your legs up as best he can, your stockinged feet waving loosely in the air with each thrust. You hold onto him, clinging to his back with all your might. Your ears ring and rush as you lose yourself in his motions.  “Cum, please, cum,” you chant into his shoulder. “Fuck your cum into your cute kitten.” Spit and sweat commingling on your lips. You curl up, forehead pressed to the junction as you climax, vision darkening and eyelids fluttering.  You’d scream but your lungs are empty and diaphragm clenched. Everything burns from the inside out. Gasping, you bite down on his trapezius, his strangled groan of pleasure and surprise breaking through your haze as his hips stutter and slam as deep as he can go into you. The warmth of his release coats your walls as they work him.

 San whimpers and then giggles quietly.  “Sorrysorrysorrysorry,” you spew in a whispered prayer.  “Don’t apologize to me,” he kisses your cheek. “Intense right?”  You don’t answer, eyes closed in bliss. All is quiet except for your breaths and the occasional light smack of lips to skin as you pepper eachother with pecks. You let him lower your legs to the bed, release slightly seeping out around his cock as he moves you. “You like the costume?” You trade an obvious question with a second obvious question.  “Skirts ruined, sorry,” he giggles again. “Pussy ruined.””

 You glare at him. He shifts slightly, balancing himself on one arm as he grabs an errant ear from between the pillows. “See? Pussy ruined. Besides, not a couples costume so-” it was such a San answer, letting you win the battle but not the war.

I’m really not promising much if anything but I wanna write more frequently sooo here you go. As usual, please let me know if I am missing tags or if you’d like me to add any TW/CW that are sensitive for you to any upcoming fics!

Also i noticed the formatting is a little fucked on mobile i’m so sorry i think it’s that i copy paste in from another doc but like...it’s hard to tell. It’s the first paragraph. Sorry!!

[latibvles]

AND — [ jacket ] sender takes their jacket off and hangs it on receiver's shoulders WITH viv and bucky because i need to see the tender side of bucky hehe 🤭🤭🤭🤭 THANK U POET !!!!!!!

jacket.

u ask for soft Bucky I give you soft Bucky . another post-bremen thing because for some reason if I write June and willie coping then I've gotta write Viv too. Anita (Rivera) is another character of who gets name dropped here — another pilot, woohoo! As is Ellie Harris. That in mind: soft tender Viv/Bucky feelings will be the end of me personally.

—

If there was one thing that’s been nailed into their heads, one thing Bucky learned the hard way, was that it rained in England. A lot. It came down hard and heavy and seemed to never end once it started. Tonight is no different: it’s raining cats and dogs and forcing everyone to stay in the Officer’s Club longer than they already do. No one wants to make the trek back to their huts and get soaked in the process, their shoes and socks filling with mud. So they order another round and take their time on sipping those drinks until the ice melts and dilutes the whiskey.

Bucky doesn’t hate nights like this, shitty weather aside, but for the first time in a while he eyes the door frequently, silently willing for her to show up. Or rather, to come back.

It wasn’t like Viv to be the first one out — more often the last one, rounding the stragglers of her crew up like a shepherd, giving him a playful promise to come by his hut and tuck him and Curt in. But instead, she exchanged quiet conversation with Willie, her co-pilot clapped her on the shoulder in a silent see you later, and then Viv bid them all goodnight with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. No jokes, no fanfare, no shepherding.

It is one of the only things that Bucky realizes he can’t quite shake with drinking and dancing — the rain started coming down a little after she left and his first thought was the unshakeable worry about her getting caught in it; slipping in the mud and hurting herself, or getting soaked through her clothes and getting sick.

It is this unshakeable worry of his that has him slipping out early — polishing off his drink to save face with an excuse about seeing if he could pull Buck from his cot tonight to join them. It’s not much, but it buys him what he hopes is enough time to poke his head in, make sure Viv is still up and kicking and possibly get a real smile out of her. Part of him wholly wanted to believe she was as unbreakable as the war goddess emblazoned on her old PT shirt, but Bucky wasn’t counting on that fact.

He’s never been more thankful for the hard leather of his sheepskin and how the rain slides off it, but he still wastes no time in jumping into his jeep and making his way down the road. It wasn’t coming down hard enough yet to completely obscure his vision; Bucky keeps glancing to the side in case he catches that tall silhouette of hers making its way back to the huts on the side of the gravel road.

But he doesn’t and Bucky’s slightly imbued with the small hope that she’s beat out the rain, that she could walk just as fast as she flew.

It doesn’t do much to shake the feeling though. His jacket might’ve been doing a good job keeping the rain out, but concern is already embedding itself deep in his bones like a chill he can’t shake, urging him to press on the gas in spite of the wheel’s trembling protests. He just curls his fists tighter until he rounds the corner — and then it’s a straight shot to her quarters from there.

Warm light pours from the two windows sandwiching the door to the hut, and Bucky doesn’t realize he’s hesitating until a fat droplet plinks onto his nose and he’s yet to knock on the door.

Lines were drawn pretty quick once the women joined them, this being one of them. Anita laid them out for him pretty plainly when he dared to ask: you don’t go with a guy to check out the inside of his fort, they have to wait outside the Hut, don’t bring any of them into our forts — they’d figured out all the ways the rules about fraternization could bite them in the ass and then filled in the holes before they even learned anybody’s names. Bucky, for all the trouble he liked to find himself in, was not in the business of dragging Viv or any of her girls into it.

But he can’t help it — the way his jaw clenches and his fists furl in undeniable frustration.

Fraternization be damned, is she not one of his to look out for?! They were a group, a team. He couldn’t shake that feeling of distance between himself and his guys after they’d gone up and he wasn’t there — and little else mattered to him than closing it before it got too wide. He’d be an idiot to act like there couldn’t be a gap there between himself and the girls too, now that they’ve been up. He’d never really asked her how she was holding up, did he?

Internalized guilt aside: she’d do the same for him; that much, Bucky is sure of.

So he opens the door quickly, stepping inside all at once and not letting the door slam behind him, because if he’s going to invade their space he might as well try to have some manners about the whole thing. Nothing could really prepare him for the sight before him, though.

One footlocker she uses as a desk, the other she uses as a chair. Her hair’s all saturated from the rain, stringy and sticking to the sides of her face. Her uniform’s a wet, crumpled pile on the floor. And he really doesn’t know what he was expecting, coming in unannounced, but it wasn’t pale yellow pajama shorts, Viv’s lips pulled into a concentrated pout, and her cheeks and nose pinkened from frigid summer rain. There’s something tentative about the whole thing, vulnerable.

The Vivian he knows is teasing and sharp-tongued; all smiles and quick remarks and quicker actions. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re the only two people in here, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s not used to her quiet; but he suddenly feels like he’s intruding in a way that he hasn’t really felt with anybody else. He whips his head to the side and starts sweeping droplets off the hard leather of his jacket, but he can see her lifting her head to look at him.

Unfortunately, it’s Viv, who is his friend, so he kind of has to look at her when she speaks — lest he make this all about him and his newfound sensibilities when it comes to women in their pajamas, apparently.

“Hey, you,” she tilts her head to the side, curious. “Didn’t know I was getting visitors.”

“Wanted to see if you beat out the rain,” he starts walking towards her and she tilts her head up to look at him, the flickering overhead lighting up her pretty features. Viv smiles, before letting it fall and giving him a half-hearted shrug.

“It caught me,” she admits dismissively, as if he couldn’t see it already. “Guess I should’ve invested in one of these, then. You got extra lying around?” She reaches up to pat his arm.

“You tryna match with me, Savorre?”

“Well if you’re gonna be my ball and chain we might as well,” She counters, swivelling on her makeshift chair and turning her back to him. “Was that it, though?”

To his credit, Bucky doesn’t mean to be nosey — Viv’s just got tragically neat handwriting and it’s something to look at that isn’t wet hair clinging to a lithe neck. But he pauses all the same, his brows knitting together, and the reason for her early absence hitting him all at once.

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Harris, you may not remember me… starts off what looks to be a letter. And Bucky remembers the name like he remembers the burn of alcohol in his throat and that feeling of elation he got three days ago when Harding decided to graciously bump him back down from Air Exec.

Ellie Harris was a part of the only female crew that went down — no chutes. He met her, just like he met Viv and Anita: out on the runway in Utah, all chapped faces and pigtails, suspicious eyes. Nice girl, honey-haired and quieter than the other two. He didn’t know her as well as he knew Viv, or even Anita, but he knew her. He poured one out for her crew, too — Adams, Schmalenbach, Petrich, Harris, and all their brave men.

“Bucky? Did you need something?” Viv asks again, turning to look at him. Likely reading the expression on his face, she looks back at the letter, and then to him. She takes her lip between her teeth once his eyes resettle on her. “I know that this is… Kidd’s job or yours, technically, but I just figured…”

There’s a heavy silence that hangs in the air, a brief moment of guilt shared between them. Him, for not thinking of asking about Ellie when he realized she’d gone down — and Viv for probably something small. Like writing her family a letter. He doesn’t want to share this feeling with her but on all levels but physical: he’s effectively scrambling for a means to rid her of it. He comes up empty-handed.

“Her folks sent me and ‘Nita Christmas cards. I figured I owed it to them to at least give some personal condolences.” Her words feel like rain pelting against his skin, the way she avoids his stare turning it frigid. But it’s that imperceptible, barely there shiver of hers that nearly does him in. If he could take the pen and write the whole thing himself, he would, but she’d never let him do that and it’d defeat the purpose of writing at all.

Her back turns to him and he watches a droplet fall from the ends of her hair and run down her back, turning that flimsy yellow material translucent. His jaw clenches involuntarily. He’s shrugging his jacket off without a second thought.

She’d do the same, he rationalizes, if it were me, she’d do the same.

Viv almost seems to freeze entirely as he puts the sheepskin over her shoulders, thankful that the inside was still dry, that the worst of the rain was yet to come. It’s warm, he knows it is because now he’s realizing just how damn cold this hut is right now. Granted, it probably wouldn’t be so awful if his hair wasn’t wet.

She hardly even needs to turn her head much — Bucky hasn’t exactly straightened himself out yet, still slightly hunched over, fixing the collar to keep it out of her way. He’s close enough now to notice some gold in the brown of her eyes. She wants some type of explanation, a what’s all this for likely posed on her tongue and he knows that ‘just felt right’ is a piss-poor excuse.

“You were shakin’ like a leaf over here. Can’t have my wife catching a flu, not on my watch.”

“Uh huh. Right.” Viv retorts sarcastically, and Bucky can’t help the smile on his face as she rolls her eyes at him. Even as he stands up straight again, he doesn’t back away much.

Her fingers ghost over the collar of his jacket, doing little more than softly exhaling — Bucky can’t help it, he lingers in her space and she smiles up at him. Something full and appreciative of what he’s done — she’s given him that look a couple times now and everytime she does, Bucky can’t help but feel like he’s won something. She doesn’t even put her arms through the sleeves, content to let it hang off her shoulders. He likes the way it envelopes her all the same, at least two sizes too big.

There’s a thought that his smell might cling to her skin, and something about that makes him grin a little more.

“You know you’re gonna need this back, right?”

“Jesus, Viv, can you just let me do my marital duty?” He complains, melodramatically, and she laughs, a full sound as her fingers curl over his jacket to keep it on her shoulders.

“That’s not…” Her voice trails off, then she rolls her eyes and Bucky really can’t help how his smile grows at the sight of her. “Fine. Sure. Do your duty. You gonna tuck me in, too? Read me a bedtime story?”

“Depends. You like Guys and Dolls?” He retorts as he takes a seat at the edge of her cot. Viv reaches over to swat at him and he can’t help the chuckle that escapes.

“Don’t make me kick you out of here, Egan,” she threatens half-heartedly, before turning back to her letter. Ten minutes. He’ll let himself linger for ten minutes and let her keep the jacket just for tonight. It suits her better anyways. He can’t help his staring and he knows she feels it because she’s glancing at him from the corner of her eye and chuckling to herself. “What?” He has no excuse this time, so he shrugs and she laughs and mutters something about him being ridiculous.

The sound and the sight of her make him hope that these ten minutes go by slow.

[64yrsold]

ACHES 4. cold

18+ (please see masterlist for cw) aches masterlist previous (3)

I walked home, his credit card making my purse feel ten pounds heavier. He was probably buying a coffee now, patting his pockets and panicking, where’s my fucking credit card! He’d think I stole it, and call off our date. 

I guess I had stolen it.

The guilt crawled up my throat, lumping there, and remaining there until I opened my apartment door, grabbing my phone and calling “Matthew (HOT)”.

It rang twice, and I winced, nearly hanging up.

Then, “Hello, darling.”

My face broke open into a cheesy grin, and I smothered my mouth with my hand.

“Hi,” I murmured, feeling like a teenager with a crush. I swallowed, trying to find my footing.

“Everything okay?” he asked, more concerned than annoyed. But probably annoyed.

“Yes, um, I just wanted to let you know that I do have your credit card.”

“Oh, alright. You keeping it?” 

I giggled, “No, you forgot it at the bar. I picked it up from Jenna this afternoon.”

“Right, thanks for doing that, sweetheart,” he said, and I nearly curled into the phone, wanting to sleep inside the sound of his voice.

“No problem,” I managed, feeling shy suddenly.

“Is dinner still on?” he asked, followed by the sound of a lighter. I could taste the smoke on his lips. 

“Sure,” I smiled, “You can pick me up at seven, if that’s okay.”

“Yes, that’s okay,” he laughed at my polite word choice, “Send me your address? I won’t be late.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he exhaled quickly, “See you soon.”

“See you soon.” I hung up before he could say anything else, jittery from my overactive heartbeat. I tossed my phone on the couch, waltzing over to the bathroom to take a shower. A shower could fix anything. A worldwide thinking place, a place for peaceful contemplation. A place to retrieve memories, I hoped.

The water hissed against the white plastic floor, the cold spray tickling my ankles. I shampooed, scrubbed, and rinsed, the taste of tobacco circling my tongue. His jaw, in the orange light, tense and throwing jagged shadows. His long fingers, a cigarette dwindling between them, brushing his lips as he smoked. A puffy cloud of gray, and a toothy, lopsided smile. His mouth is moving, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. The memory dissipates like his cigarette smoke, leaving me sighing as it slips from me.

I hopped out of the shower, drying off and putting on my robe, staring into the mirror a little too long. I put on my moisturizer, running two fingers down my neck, along my pulse. There were no hickeys, no sore spots, no odd bruises anywhere. I was almost certain I had slept with him, though. Especially from how attached I felt to him, and the dull ache behind my heart that told me I missed him. And he was handsome.

For the rest of the afternoon, I slowly put on my makeup, spending more time listening to music than actually applying the products. I picked an outfit carefully, something cuter than yesterday’s casual t-shirt and jeans. I wondered where he was taking me. I tugged out a black dress, medium-length, flattering but not too revealing. It seemed safe and normal.

Fully dressed and ready to go, I sat on the edge of my couch, clutching my phone. I was always ready too early, and usually spent thirty minutes or so stiffly waiting on the couch, unable to relax or do anything but wait. 

My phone buzzed in my hand, his name bright on the screen. I had changed his name to just “Matty”. 

“Hi Matty,” I answered, standing and pacing around my coffee table.

“Hi,” he replied, “I’m downstairs. Should I come up?”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll be right down.”

“Okay, I’ll be here.”

I ended the call, leaving my apartment and loudly heading down the stairs. When I exited my building, I saw him in front of some angular black SUV, leaning against the door. His hair was different, gelled back, with a lonely curl slipping over his forehead. He crossed his arms over another white button down, a tie loose around his neck. He wore the same heavy coat, a bold, black silhouette.

As soon as he saw me, he stepped forward, a line between his eyebrows. His jacket was off in one smooth movement, and he wrapped me in it tenderly.

“Cold, darling?” he asked, rubbing my shoulders briskly.

I must have been blushing bright red. 

“No, I’m alright,” I lied, embarrassed I had forgotten to wear a jacket in my rush to get downstairs.

“You look fantastic,” he murmured, “Beautiful.” 

“You too,” I said, throat dry. He smiled. He stepped back, opening the door for me.

“It’s not too far from here. Can I keep it a surprise?” He watched me climb into the car, lingering at the door to wait for my answer.

“Sure,” I nodded, “I love surprises.”

“Okay,” he grinned, satisfied, and shut the door.

-> next (5)

[siilvan]

Could you please write a platonic fic with reader and Nikolai? Maybe with a little bit of peril involved so they are both worried for each other?

crash site

characters: nikolai

summary: after your pilot crashes in the middle of a war zone while trying to extract you, a reverse rescue mission ensues.

genre: general, gn!reader (bravo 0-5; no desc.)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, canon-typical violence, mild descriptions of injuries, inaccurate medical care, nik and reader get hurt, mutual worrying, i wrote this w/ a migraine i’m sorry

word count: 3.2k

note: anon i hope you know i love you for requesting something that i already sorta wanted to write

also so sorry this took so long, i hope you enjoy <3

you instinctively raise your gun when a bullet flies past and pierces the half-destroyed concrete wall just in front of you. various shouts in a language you can’t understand soon follow, and your heart races as you spin around to confront the enemy.

the mission was supposed to be simple. get into the city, take out the target, and get out without being compromised.

the first two objectives went without any trouble, but your escape was compromised the second the target’s body hit the ground. that’s how you ended up in this situation - with a single magazine in your gun, a city of armed men pursuing you, and no signs of backup in sight.

not to mention the approaching sandstorm, you mentally add to the list, blinking back tears as rough grains of sand whip around and obscure your vision.

you manage to take out the group actively giving chase, which then leads to your next problem: you’ve completely run out of ammo. even your sidearm was emptied as you fought through the small militia, and you lament the speech that price is going to give you about "being prepared" once you make it out.

vaulting over the short wall brings you to a city square. you crouch low near a stack of crates and building supplies, hoping that the chaos of the situation and the sandstorm would mask your presence to the various search parties nearby. you scan the area for any weapons while moving undercover; the last thing you need is to be caught without a way to defend yourself.

if you had a nickel for every time things did not go to plan today, you’d be rich enough to retire. a yell and a bullet landing near your feet signaled that, despite your best efforts, one of the parties spotted you.

you rise to your feet and lift your hands, praying that a surrender would buy you some time. the square fills up, and soon you’re stuck in place as several dozen guns are pointed right at you. there was no way you’d be getting out of this, even if you did miraculously find a weapon during your brief search.

the apparent leader of the group steps toward you, repeating some command - or, perhaps a question, you couldn’t tell - while the others slowly form a half-circle around you. several of the soldiers look antsy, hands twitching as they adjust their grips and rest their fingers against the trigger, like they were just waiting for an excuse to open fire. your stomach churns at the thought of someone getting a little too anxious.

your radio suddenly crackles to life for the first time since you confirmed the target’s death. at the same moment, a distant silhouette in the sky catches your eye. you focus on it and squint, trying to make it out through the ever-increasing cloud of sand, before a familiar voice catches your attention.

"0-5, get down!"

before you can even register who the voice belongs to, you follow the order and drop to your knees. the sound of heavy gunfire surrounds you immediately after, forcing you to lift your hands in an attempt to protect your head as every other person in the city square was gunned down. you bite back a panicked noise when the men closest to you are dispatched, worrying that whomever was in control would accidentally hit you, as well.

when the dust settles, both literally and figuratively, you cautiously lower your hands and lift your head again, scanning the area once more.

as expected, every soldier around you laid dead. some laid on their stomachs due to the unexpected ambush, others were on their backs after attempting to confront the source. your eyes flicked back to the sky, towards the silhouette you had seen before.

even through the sand and dust, you could make out the all-too familiar helicopter hovering near your position. it was a little unsteady, clearly a victim of the intense wind and debris in the air, but you grinned at the sight nonetheless.

"ace shots, nikolai." you let out a relieved laugh after reaching for your radio. "i’m surprised you can fly in these conditions."

"not for long, so let’s make this quick," he says, and you watch as the chopper attempts to land on one of the nearby roofs. "the storm will be here any minute. seems like i got here just in time, no?" he adds with a smug chuckle.

"i’ll be sure to send a thank-you card after this!" you huff and rush to the building he was landing on. for the first time today, things seem to be going according to plan; a ladder inside leads directly to the roof, which you quickly ascend with renewed vigor, and wait impatiently for the chopper to touch down.

you aren’t sure why, but a wave of cold dread washes over you once you reach the rooftop. your attention shifts from your escape to the nearby buildings and streets as you give your surroundings a once-over. surely it’s just adrenaline, you tell yourself.

you spot a figure in the window of a house just a block away. they’re kneeling behind the edge, eyes trained in your direction, pointing something directly at the building you were standing on top of. you stare at the mysterious object in their hands, until they carefully shift their aim a little higher. directly at nikolai, you realize just a second too late.

"watch out–!" you frantically shout into your radio. even if the weapon, which you now recognize as an RPG, hits the building and damages it, your chances of survival were far superior to nikolai’s own.

before your warning can reach him, however, a rocket is fired at the helicopter. you can only watch helplessly as it connects with the tail and sends the vehicle spiraling out of control. despite the damage, nikolai manages to maneuver it upwards while attempting to regain control. a second rocket is fired shortly after and hits the engine, stripping the pilot of any control as the vehicle practically falls from the sky. it crashes into the ground a decent distance away, and your stomach drops at the scene.

you scale the side of the building at breakneck speed and start towards the crash site, completely ignoring the eminent threat at your back as you pray for his safety. you didn’t care about empty guns, failed escapes, or compromised assassinations - you’d take a hundred of each before losing any of your teammates.

you’re swiftly given a cold reminder of your situation during your mad dash to nikolai. you duck into an alley and press your back against the wall as a team rushes down the street, no doubt heading to the same place as you. with a deep inhale, irritating your throat as sand and dust contaminates the air, you push off and follow their path.

come on, nik… you mentally beg the man. this is no way for you to die.

the combat knife tucked in your vest, your last line of defense, finds its home in the neck of one of the soldiers when you attack him from behind. you grab his rifle and dispatch the nearby soldiers, silently thanking the sandstorm for finally hitting the city in full force. it was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you, but such was the same for the enemy.

"0-5… can you hear me?" a strained voice comes through your radio and just barely cuts through the raging storm. nikolai. thank god.

"i hear you– nik, what’s your status?"

a pained grunt and the sound of creaking metal answers your question. "i don’t think we will be flying out of here–" he cuts himself off with a sharp hiss. "i’m not sure i can even stand."

"i’ll get us out of here," you tuck yourself into the shadows again as a patrol passes by, the lights on their guns permeating through the dust cloud and highlighting their position. "just stay put for now. get to cover if you can, i’m on my way."

"the enemy will have me surrounded within minutes, 0-5. you cannot fight a militia alone."

you click your tongue and shake your head from side to side, as if he could see you. "i’m not leaving you, nikolai. i’ll sooner drag you out by my teeth than abandon you." a stiff laugh and a muttered comment about your "stubbornness" was his only response.

the group that previously passed you was now stopped in an intersection, exchanging words with another small party. you squint at them and manage to count eight in total. difficult, but manageable. you had the benefits of stealth and surprise on your side, at the very least.

with a slow inhale and exhale, you open fire on the group. you take out two of them before the others start their search, frantically pointing their guns in every direction. once again, the lights gave away their positions; your rifle didn’t have a flashlight, allowing you to stay concealed as you picked the remaining members off one by one.

you reach for your radio again after you confirm the kills. "still doing okay?" you ask, continuing towards his location.

a second passes before you get a reply. "i am still alive, at the very least," nikolai grunts softly, and you recognize the sound of not-so-distant voices through his radio. "they haven’t found me yet. too worried about you to conduct a proper search, i assume."

"hopefully i can reach you, then. it’ll be difficult, but it’s not impossible to slip by." you notice the crash site after rounding a corner and running a few more blocks. it was yet another area that resembled a plaza, with several soldiers dotting both the inside and the outskirts.

"be careful." he speaks slowly, and you push down the worry that stems from his tone. instead, you try to reassure him. "always am, nik. just try to keep your blood in until we get out of here."

you approach the entrance and quietly dispatch the trio standing in your way. judging by the sounds of panic that followed, the gunshots weren’t entirely drowned out by the winds. that’s fine, you inwardly boast. even if they investigate the noise, they’ll come up empty-handed; you move on before the alarm is even raised. weaving through their sights is easy enough, thanks to the soldiers’ scattered and uncoordinated paths. nonetheless, you take out as many as you safely can.

before long, you come across debris from the crash, and you follow it until the main body of the helicopter is visible. you physically cringe at its ruined state until a whisper-shout of your name from somewhere nearby catches your attention. doing your best to follow it, you shove some metal scraps - hot to the touch, even through your gloves - out of the way.

you have to choke back a relieved sigh when you finally locate nikolai, leaning against more of the wreckage while clutching his side.

"never been so happy to see you," you chuckle and reach for his free hand. with a soft grunt of effort, you pull him to his feet and guide him to rest his weight against you. "i’ve got you, just lean on me."

"we need to hurry…"

nikolai’s words are brushed off by your gentle shushing as you make for an exit - easier said than done with the state he’s in. "i know, i know… we’re almost there, just need to get out in one piece."

"you don’t understand–"

his warning is cut off by bullets whizzing past your legs. you regret brushing him off as your adrenaline is sent into overdrive, and you practically carry him out of the plaza. you search for cover before your eyes settle on a small house with boarded windows; inconspicuous, but you really don’t want to back yourself into a corner.

an acute pain in your shoulder makes you reconsider the latter concern. you stumble forward, tightening your grip on nikolai as he nearly collapses from the sudden movement, and resign to your fate.

your lungs are burning by the time you reach the building. you shove the door open and haul the both of you inside before kicking it shut again. cautiously, you scan the interior, fingers twitching as you prepare to grab the rifle slung over your shoulder. the house was meager, you realize; a small sitting area bordered an even smaller dining room, with a modest kitchen that was surely emptied a long time ago.

you stagger to the torn-up sofa in the sitting area and maneuver nikolai to lay on his back, apologizing under your breath at every pained noise that left his lips. the rifle is leaned against the wall as you shove a tall wooden shelf across the room to block the front door, creating a decent barricade.

well, "decent" was a generous description. it would buy you a precious few seconds, at most.

the sharp pain in your shoulder bleeds into an agonizing throb from the effort, and you desperately try to shake off the feeling. your minor injury didn’t matter right now.

"we don’t have much time," you say while shifting your focus back to nikolai. "i’ll patch you up as much as i can. no point in escaping if you bleed out, yeah?" you add with a forced chuckle, trying to ease the both of you. the only interior doors lead to a bedroom and bathroom, and you search both for any supplies.

following the apparent theme of this mission, the only useful items you find are fabric, some foam, and a basic first-aid kit. the kitchen and dining room are equally as frugal, with a half-emtpy bottle of alcohol and a pair of small metal rods as your only rewards.

"you’re not a medic," nikolai says, staring at you from the corner of his eye while you gather the supplies on a nearby table. you huff and begin looking over his injuries. "it’s me, or a grave. pick your poison." you briefly meet his gaze and smile. he concedes and remains silent as you continue the examination.

considering what he had been through so far, his injuries were surprisingly minor. the worst of it was a laceration on his forearm and a fracture below his knee. there was also the bruised and broken ribs, but you couldn’t do anything about those. the smaller cuts just needed to be disinfected and bandaged, depending on the severity - all things that you were perfectly capable of doing.

despite the bad luck, you managed to gather just enough to make a splint for his leg. a shitty splint, but it’s better than nothing.

you start with the fracture, doing what you can to stop the bleeding and disinfect the wound. he hisses in pain when you try to move his leg to apply the padding, and you mumble another apology. the rest of the process goes as smoothly as it can, given the circumstances. you manage to make the splint and wrap his lower leg with the cloth you found, securing it in place.

after checking the splint, you move on to his arm. the first-aid supplies included a suture kit that you were already loathing having to use. your hands shake as you prepare it and clean the wound, taking a deep breath and internally recoiling at the scent of blood.

the stitching is about as torturous as you expected, for nikolai more than yourself. he is remarkably calm, though the occasional grunt or groan still escapes his tightly pressed lips. you finish the procedure as quickly as possible for his sake, tying the thread off and cleaning the area again before wrapping it in the leftover bits of cloth.

"it’s not much, but it’ll suffice for now." you send him another smile. he breathes deeply and nods his head, inspecting your work.

"you are a better medic than i thought," he confesses and nods again. "i’ll definitely put in a good word with the captain." he chuckles softly. his gaze shifts to you, and you’re reminded of your own injury.

before he can say anything, you stand up and grab your gun from its spot. "i’ll be fine. we’ve already spent too much time here, anyway." you sling it over your uninjured shoulder and head to the wall opposite of the front door. the planks boarding the windows were weather-damaged and easy enough to pull off. you detach one and peek through the gap.

the street was quiet, thankfully. the soldiers must have lost track of you after you ducked into the house - at least, that’s what you hoped for. further down the street, you spot a car. your escape.

"see anything?" nikolai asks. you turn back and hum affirmatively.

"there’s a car down the road. if it has fuel, we can drive out of here."

"the militia won’t follow us outside of the city."

you nod towards him. "exactly. i’ll head over and check it out."

nikolai jolts upwards, before grunting and clutching one of his various injuries. "you’re not heading out there alone. the enemy could easily ambush and overwhelm you like they did before."

"it’ll be far faster for me to look at it alone," you argue while pulling the other planks off the window frame. "you can’t walk on your own, let alone fight, nik. this is our only option."

you swing one leg over the edge of the window and shoot a glance towards him. "i promise i won’t be gone for long."

the storm immediately takes you off-guard again, and you clutch your weapon close as you jog towards the car. it was an all-terrain vehicle, left behind by one of the militia groups. you check the fuel gauge and sigh a breath of satisfaction at the half-full tank of gas. best of all, the keys were left in the ignition.

must’ve abandoned it during one of the skirmishes, you think. those weren’t so unlucky, after all.

you head back to the house and find nikolai trying to lift himself from the sofa. "so impatient," you comment, pulling his arm over your shoulders and offering yourself as a support once more. "seems like the car is going to work. just a little further, nik."

he mutters something in russian that you assume is positive, based on his relieved tone, as the two of you head for the exit. both of you stumble towards the car together, fighting against the storm and your own exhaustion that is slowly but surely creeping in, ignoring the painful ache that plagues you from head to toe.

you get nikolai settled in the passenger’s seat before circling the hood and turning the keys in the ignition. the vehicle sparks to life, and every horrible twist and turn is all but forgotten as you speed down the street. the edge of the city isn’t terribly far from your current location, you can make it.

"it’s funny," you say, barely audible over the turbulent winds. "usually you are the one driving and saving our asses, but now the roles are reversed."

nikolai shakes his head. "one save does not make up for a hundred, 0-5. you still owe me." he replies with a self-satisfied grin, earning a frustrated curse from you as you cross the city border.

sure enough, the captain had his speech prepared before you even left the medical bay.

[edupunkn00b]

Two Truths and All Lies

Photo by Javier Quiroga on Unsplash 

WC: 1692 - Rated: T - CW: alcohol, a wee bit of innuendo, Janus' defense mechanism on full display - [ AO3 ]

Remus set up his best friend Logan with his new friend Janus.

Written for Day 1 of @loceitweek 2024, off a prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting, #1101: "I am not the right person for you." "You're doing a bad job of convincing me of that."

-

Resisting the temptation to check his watch for the third time in half as many minutes, Logan closed his eyes and took a long draw of his wine. His blind date was over twenty minutes late.

And Logan had been waiting for thirty.

“Trust me, Lo Lo,” Remus had laughed when Logan had expressed uncertainty about the wisdom of going on a date with someone he’d never met. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”

Logan began to count on his fingers. “The first I recall was In the second grade when you suggested I write my corrections in our Rabbit Reader books. Next was later that same year when—”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Remus shook his head and laughed again. “This guy’s perfect for you. He’s hot, but not in a boring Ken doll way. He’s so smart he can talk circles around the judges down at the ninth circuit and he’s available. Unlike—”

“Ah!” One hand raised, Logan shook his head. “You pledged never to mention that again.”

“Sorry,” he said, a moment of sincerity from his mess of a friend.

Inclining his head, Logan dismissed the moment and returned to their earlier debate. “What I don’t understand is if this man is as wonderful as you are making him out to be, why aren’t you dating him?”

Hand pressed to his chest, Remus put on a mask of hurt outrage. “You think I’m so hard-up I wouldn’t want to introduce you first?”

Logan crossed his arms, both eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he’d admitted with a sigh. “Ro dated him back in college. Bro code, I can’t touch him with a fifty foot pole.” Remus cackled. “Or a ten inch one.”

Shaking his head, Logan hadn’t been able to hold back a bark of laughter. “Especially with a ten inch one.”

A figure approached, walking between him and the setting sun. The movement cast a long shadow over the table and, backlit in soft pinks and gold, the new arrival appeared only as a silhouette.

It appeared his date had finally arrived.

Logan rose and offered his hand to shake when the man—the broad shoulders and low hum seemed right. “Good evening, I’m Logan Sanders. Are you Janus?”

He inclined his head, dipping his face into the candlelit centerpiece. The light made his features glow, calling attention to the heavy scarring over the left half of his face. “Janus Forrd,” he said, accepting Logan’s hand briefly before his eyes trailed up and down his form. “Well, I am relieved to see I am not underdressed.”

“Since when are french cuffs and a necktie casual wear?” Logan snapped before he could stop himself.

Janus chuckled. “Since I stopped buying my clothes off the rack at Penney’s.” His sleeves billowed elegantly as he took his seat, legs crossed under the table.

Biting back an additional indigent response, Logan straightened his tie and smoothed down the lapels of his jacket. Janus merely smirked up at him. “Are you planning on standing all evening? You must have more stamina than you look.”

The server saved him from saying something he might regret. “What can I start you gentlemen with tonight?”

Packaging up his frustration, Logan vowed to share it all with Remus later tonight. Of all the nights for him to play one of his pranks. He took a slow, measured breath and smiled up at the server. “Another glass, please,” he said, tapping the stem of his goblet. 

“Yes, sir.” The server made no mention of Janus’ tardiness, but did give Logan a small nod and a smile. “And what can I bring you, sir?” he said to Janus.

“Water for me,” he said, looking askance at Logan’s empty wine glass. “I never indulge on a first date.”

“Very good, sir,” the server said, glancing quickly at Logan before retreating to the sommelier station behind the bar.

When Logan turned back to his companion, he found Janus sitting forward, fingers threaded and supporting his chin. He smiled, eyes never budging from Logan’s face, a cat in front of an open bird cage. 

Logan was briefly tempted to leave then. But he’d been told more than once that he made a terrible first impression and he valued the friends who’d bothered to see past his own quirks. Perhaps this man, this friend of Remus’ even, deserved the same.

“I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Logan offered, consciously relaxing his shoulders from their position up at his ears.

“We may have,” Janus concurred with a slow nod of his head. “And how would you propose we find out way onto the right foot?”

“Perhaps you could tell me something about yourself?” Logan said, adjusting his glasses. “Remus tells me you also practice law.”

“Hmph,” he hummed as the server brought their drinks. “Most people in your position choose to ask me about my scar.” Janus watched him over his water glass, the refraction emphasizing the streaks of red surrounding his left eye and the tight, rough skin splashed over his jaw and his cheekbone.

“While I readily admit a certain curiosity, I trust you will share your personal history in accordance with your level of comfort.” He shrugged. “To do otherwise would be… crude.” Logan frowned, dissatisfied with his imprecision.

“Interesting,” Janus leaned back in his chair, one arm draped artfully over the back rest. “I find such vulnerable honesty refreshing…” He took a slow sip of his water. “Unusual, even.”

Logan hummed and fought another frown. “I find it to be most efficient to be honest and open when meeting a potential romantic partner.”

“Really?” He said, leaning forward and steepling his hands, elbows resting lightly on the table between them. He tapped his lower lip with his fingertips and stared at him for long enough for Logan to wonder if he had somehow missed a question. “I practice the opposite. In fact, this is one the few honest statements I’ve made all evening. On that note—” He signaled their server and gestured toward Logan’s half-empty glass.

“Please bring us a bottle of whatever my companion is drinking.”

“That’s absurd. You don’t even know if you’d like it.”

“You appear to be and I trust your taste.”

“What?” Logan snapped his jaw shut before anything further could come out while the server was still at their table. He waited, gaze focused on his lap for a slow count to four. When the server left with a curt bow of his head, Logan looked up and adjusted his eyeglasses before speaking again. “I do not know what precisely you hope to accomplish with this little stereotypical alpha male negging pick-up artist… thing,” he finished not with a bang but a fumbled whimper.

“You surprise me, dear Logan,” Janus said, reaching across the table and taking his glass. “I would expect someone of your intellect and observational skills to have already deduced I find this thing to be a more than effective dating strategy.”

Scoffing, Logan took out his wallet and signaled their server but Janus waved him off. Infuriatingly, the man listened to Janus. “Very well, then, the drinks are on you. I am leaving,” he said, pushing back his chair and pushing up to his feet. “It is clear to me that I am simply not the right man for you.”

"I disagree,” he said, that infernal smirk pulling up the unblemished side of his face. “Your wit has the sharpness to draw blood. As I said before, you have remarkable taste in wine.” He savored his wine before winking. “And in men.”

Janus’ eyes wandered over his face before trailing down over his shoulder and chest. “You are just this side of conventionally attractive, classically beautiful, even.”

Logan wished such empty praise was insufficient to heat his cheeks. He wished for world peace, as well.

“See?” Janus said, his smirk softening into a full smile. “Even your blush is fetching.”

Forcing his mouth into a scowl, Logan raised one eyebrow but Janus wasn’t done. “You are seemingly impervious to my undeniable charms and a stickler for accuracy and integrity. You were disarmingly prompt this evening, arriving a full ten minutes before our date was scheduled to begin.”

Logan’s eyes widened at Janus’ implicit admission that he had somehow arrived even earlier.

“I was over there,” he said, gesturing toward the darkened bar without breaking eye contact. “I watched you arrive and assess the venue before subtly slipping the maitre’d a folded bill and obtaining us the best table in the house.” Janus finished his glass and refilled first Logan’s, then his own from the bottle. “Impeccable view,” he said, staring straight ahead.

“I have a view of the water and the rest of the establishment,” Logan corrected. “You have a view of passable recreations of Degauss along a wall badly in need of updated wallpaper.”

“Au contraire,” he chuckled, contemplating the swirling dark liquid in his cup before fixing Logan with his gaze. “I have the best view in the restaurant.”

For all the doublespeak, Logan found himself believing him. At least, believing that Janus spoke the truth for him. He sat back down and picked up his glass. “I am not the right man for you,” he repeated, a crooked smile making its way to his face.

Janus shook his head and held up his glass as if to toast him. “You're doing a bad job of convincing me of that."

Clinking their glasses together, Logan cocked one eyebrow. “Then perhaps I should endeavor to make my point more adamantly.”

Janus raised his glass to his lips, half-obscuring his smile. “Then perhaps you should.”

Drinking their wine, the men stared at each other for a long while and, as the sun set, Logan’s eyes watched light and shadow from the surrounding candles caress Janus’ cheek. Hiding his own smile behind his goblet, he sat back in his chair. “It is abhorrent manners to arrive twenty minutes late to a first date.”

“Hmm? Really,” Janus replied, stretching his free hand across the table and brushing his fingers over Logan’s arm. “Tell me more.”

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in October 2023. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #55 |  ko-fi | fic recs

—Louis/Harry—

🎃 your memory over me by @shimmeringevil

(E, 64k, exes) The worst heartbreak of Louis’ life walks right back into it when his parents invite their family friends on an all-expenses-paid trip for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Facing a past that he tried to bury long ago, Louis learns that some people have a way of sticking with you even when they’re gone

🎃 saw some things on the other side by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 61k, murder mystery) Unfortunately, Louis’ plan doesn’t take into account the fact that instead of writing murder mysteries, he will find himself in one.

🎃 Fight For Us by @fallinglikethis

(E, 11k, a/b/o) one dark night, long after all of the other omegas in the pen have fallen asleep, biology comes calling for Louis.

🎃 Rainy Days and Leaves by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

(E, 9k, uni) Louis works at a coffee shop and spells Harry's name wrong on his cups.

🎃 could start a cult by @nouies

(E, 8k, FBI agents) Harry can’t get enough of Louis’ breast milk.

🎃 Peaky Blinders Louis (series) by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 8k, historical) Three years ago, Louis ran with the Peaky Blinders. He thought he left that life behind, but his past might finally be catching up with him.

🎃 Let Me Taste Your Silhouette by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 4k, pwp) the one where Harry accidentally posts a picture to his main Instagram story instead of only to his close friends, and he just happens to be wearing a 28 Official Programme shirt. Louis happens to notice

🎃 Toil and Trouble by stretchmybones / @harryslonecurl

(E, 3k, sirens) Harry and Louis are sirens who suck the souls out of humans in order to make potions

🎃 David S Pumpkins by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(NR, 3k, supernatural elements) Louis has a Halloween party to go to, and the perfect outfit to wear. It's a little odd that people in weird clothes keep appearing and disappearing. Skeleton outfits? A three piece suit covered in pumpkins? Mysterious.

🎃 like a dream but i wasn't asleep by @alwaysxlarrie

(G, 2k, strangers to lovers) It's cold outside and Harry just wants to get into his hotel room and go to bed. It should be a simple task, but it’s made more challenging by his complicated relationship with gravity, a booking mixup, and a really hot guy.

🎃 Touch the Sky and Kiss the Sun by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 2k, soulmates) Louis Tomlinson knows without a shadow of a doubt that Harry Styles is his soulmate. Harry Styles, Louis is virtually certain, is completely unawares of this fact.

🎃 Don't Forge Me by larry_hiatus / @larry-hiatus

(G, 2k, established relationship) Harry knows he won’t see Louis again for a while, but when he reads the confusing note tucked amongst the melons and pineapple flowers, Harry wonders if he’ll ever see Louis again…

🎃 Trackies by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow

(E, 2k, established relationship) Louis and Harry are having another anniversary. For Harry, Louis' hints to what he would like to be gifted are very confusing. OR The one where trackies*com isn't the place where you buy tracksuits.

🎃 Run To You by @neondiamond

(G, 2k, established relationship) Harry injures himself while out on a morning run. Louis comes to his rescue.

🎃 You of course, Always you. by bunnyhusbands / @louisgayvodka

(G, 1k, friends to lovers) “Tell me what?” “That I'm in love with you”

🎃 Dearest Gemma (I fell in love) by Thingssicant / @slowlyseducedbycurls

(G, 1k, epistolary) Harry writes letters to his sister while he impatiently waits for his lover to propose

—Rare Pairs—

🎃 Bloom by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 28k, Louis/Liam) In early 1970s Oxford, Detective Sergeant Louis Tomlinson has to deal with the dual pressures of a case that hits too close to home, and the arrival of new colleague Liam Payne.

🎃 Cold Spring by @nouies

(E, 8k, Louis/Pedro Pascal) Louis is a coffee shop owner and Pedro is his newest customer.

🎃 two languages, one love by @nouies

(NR, 3k, Louis/Cillian Murphy) The three times Louis speaks to Cillian in Spanish, and the one time he finally gets a response.

🎃 Amenable by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(E, 3k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn guides Louis through a marathon day of fucking, exploring Louis' submissive side through a series of varied constraints.

[melimelissa998]

A Favor pt. 2

part 1

A few days later after that night, it was all back to normal in my head. Wake up, teach, stay up late, sleep and repeat. First I felt really bad for that boy getting in trouble, and also anxious that he’ll show up at my door and punch me for being a snitch.

I look at the hour on my watch and decide it’s time to leave work today. I stack all the graded homework together and the rest in another pile for tomorrow, I put them in the drawer and start to clean up my desk.

As I close the classroom door, I hear footsteps approach me; I turn to see Miss Young with a mop in her hand. “Oh miss Y/N, like always staying so late” she says, I see how her face wrinkles into a smile that also makes me smile. “If I grade now, I’ll have my weekend free, it’s worth it” I tell her and she nods, she wishes me a nice sleep and to take care, I wave her goodbye and to also take care.

I walk around the building to the back stairs to get to my apartment. I pass the small playground and stop at the convenience store that's across to buy dinner. I take a moment to think if I should walk to the front of my building or just use the back door that’s straight ahead. I roll my eyes at myself. Like if you would surround the building just to get to the front when the back door is just a few steps away…

Before I open the door and step in, I hear a noise that’s between a cry and a growl. I stay still to check if I’ll hear it again, and I do. I walk to the corner of the building to the small alley where we leave the garbage to see if the noise is P, the small cat that the building adopted a few months ago; but it’s not P.

I see a silhouette trying to stand up and slip to the floor. “Oh shoot” I panic and walk closer “Are you alright?” I ask waiting to know if they needed help. I see his face and instantly recognize it’s the blonde freckle boy from the pool place. But what were the odds to see each other, again. “Are you okay?” I ask again even though I see him struggle. “It’s okay” he replies. I back a little and notice how his left shoulder looks a little off, I focus more on it, and even though there’s almost no streetlight I can tell it’s not normal. “We should.” “No!” he interrupts me with a deep and firm voice. “I said it’s okay, just go” he tells me as he tries to pass me but falls to the floor. He cries out of pain and my heart hurts hearing him. I quickly kneel down, “I-I can’t leave you like this, let me take you to a hos.” Again he interrupts me in the same mad tone “I said no, Y/N” he repeats and I pick up an accent. “O-okay, but at least call someone, call Lee Know, or your other friend” I suggest and he nods, he tries getting up and almost loses his balance but I put my hands on his chest to keep him from falling on me. His head is lays on my shoulder and I call him out “Hey, hey, you there?” I slightly shake him, but he doesn’t verbally respond, only a small growl. “Oh gosh” I complain out loud.

Why me again. I will regret this, I will definitely regret this again… “Hey.” I wanted to call his name but I actually don’t know it? “Let’s get out of here yeah? Just help me out a little” I talk to him hopping he can hear me. We try to walk to the back door building to get us in, but when I mean we, I mean just me with this boy hanging on me on one side and my heavy handbag on the other.

A 3 minute trip to my floor and door turned into maybe a 20 minute walk “Lean on the wall for a sec” I suggest him, he keeps growling and crying from the pain as I look for my keys and open the door as fast as I can. Lucky for us my sofa was close by to the entrance. I didn’t attend to through him on the sofa but he kinda slips off my arms and falls making him cry louder “I, shit, sorry, sorry” I cover my mouth with both hands. He mumbles that it’s fine but I still feel guilty. “What’s your friend number?” I ask as I take my phone out my bag trying get ride of how bad I feel, he nods his head and turns to his right side “My phone” he says, I stand a little confused “In my, my pocket” he explains “Oh, yeah” I say obviously. I take out the mobile waiting for maybe a Samsung or an iPhone but I didn’t expect a 2004 type of phone, I frown and look at him like if he was a mad man. I want to ask what’s up with this but he talks first “Press one” he orders, I am still confused “Speed dial one” he orders again as if it was obvious what he meant, I shake my head to myself. This is not normal, this is mad. Crazy mad. I dial and wait on the tone. “Where are you, mate?” is the first thing that comes from the other side. That accent. It’s him. “Uh, I, em, your friend, he’s not okay and.” I try to explain but he interrupts me “Who the hell is this?” he questions and my heart beat speeds up “Y/N” I gulp down my saliva “Y/N” he doesn’t say it in a question, it sounded more like if he was repeating it to himself. I hear his voice in my head echoing my name in his accent. British? Australian? I try to think a little more… “Where is he?” his question pops me out of my thinking bubble “Uh, he’s with me, my apartment, I, he is bad injured, I think he’ll faint in any minute, I live, em, on Berrywood Parkway, it’s um, behind the.” I am half way in the explanation but he once again interrupts me “I know, I´ll be there shortly, keep him awake” he demands before he hangs up on me, I look at the phone no believing how rude he was right now. I inhale and look at the boy on my sofa have unconscious, I stand there looking at his face, he has a few cuts and a big bruise on his left cheek, I walk to my bathroom and get my first aid kit, I kneel close to him “I’m going to clean you up okay?” I ask softly and nods slowly.

While I clean his injuries I couldn’t stop feeling worried for him, he wasn’t older than me, and he also looks so small in some way. “Felix” he whispers, I am cleaning up his open lip and when I hear him I accidentally press on it too much, he wimps and I apologize "You said Felix?" I repeat “My name, it’s Felix” he repeats and then I notice he also has an accent, just like his friend… “I’m Y/N” I say and he chuckles “I remember you Y/N, bad ass the other day honestly” he lets out a small laugh and I smile, but soon he growls in pain again and touches his left shoulder “It’s dislocated, isn’t it?” I ask and he nods “W-what happen? Did someone try to assault you?” I ask worried for him but he shakes his head “Just don’t” he suggests me. I want to say something more, but a knock on the door and my name in the unknown accent stops me. Oh shit.

3

[ladytauria]

Pairing: Tim Drake/Jason Todd Rating: Explicit Words: 2.7k

Tim goes to a club and takes home a familiar stranger.

i wasn’t going to post this so soon after the other but i’m easily persuaded xD

Heels are not the worst part about dressing up, at least in Tim’s opinion. That would be the wig—his scalp itches, and he can’t even scratch it. Still,  it’s worth it for the way he looks in this dress.

The club is busy. It’s not one he frequents. Honestly, he’s not sure he’s ever even been here outside of costume. Which makes sense, since this is Hood’s end of town. Red Robin might have a tentative pass to work here on occasion, but it’s still—well. Tentative. He hasn’t tried as Tim Drake, or other civilian alias. The rules might be different.

Or, maybe they won’t be.

There will be other nights to find out. Tonight is for pleasure, not business.

Tim approaches the bar, flagging the bartender down and ordering a martini. He opens his phone while he’s waiting, sending a text idly before setting it on Do Not Disturb and tucking away. He won’t need it for a few hours.

Then, drink held close to his chest, he leans against the bar and watches the club-goers around him. The movement of their bodies in time to the pulse of the music, the way the lights flash, turning most of them into dark silhouettes—it’s almost hypnotic.

Tim finds himself tapping his thigh to the beat almost absently, until there’s a warmth at his side; a shadow falling over him. It doesn’t quite block his vision, but it does capture his attention.

“Hey there, gorgeous. Come here often?” The words are almost purred into his ear. Tim’s grip tightens on his glass, biting his cheek.

He twists at the waist.

His new companion is tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome, in a rugged sort of way. Hard jawline, dark with stubble, nose at least-once-broken. His mouth is full and soft, though, and those pretty blue-green eyes are framed with thick lashes. There’s also a fullness to his cheeks that softens his face, helped along even more by the way a lock of his curls—white, where the rest are black—falls over his forehead. A leather jacket sits on his shoulders, making him just a little bit broader, and his dark wash jeans hug his thighs so tightly Tim is surprised they haven’t popped a seam.

A coy smile spreads over Tim’s mouth. “Just when I’m looking for a good time,” he says, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

The man grins—smirks, really, a cocky thing that gives Tim all sorts of ideas about what to do to, and with, him. “I’d be happy to show you one,” he says. He nods towards Tim’s drink. “Can I buy you another?”

Tim appreciates him asking. But— “How ‘bout you tell me your name first, handsome?”

The man colors a little. It’s cute. “Jay,” he says.

[mrs-russ]

CH 5&6 of this shitfic with roommate!keegan :D

(not proofread, sorry for errors)

words: 2.4k

reading time: 8:54

!NSFW!

!MDNI!

 CH:5

it’s time for me to get ready to go to the club, and i dress in black joggers plus a black short sleeve shirt. it has a zipper going down the first quarter of it if it gets too hot. just thinking ahead.

i don’t plan on getting any girls tonight, i have my mind set on someone already, so that’s not a worry for me.

speaking of her, she left an hour ago to go out with a friend. can’t deny im worried about it being a dude, but she’s not mine, so i shouldn’t even be having these thoughts.

i take my car to the club, expecting to uber home. i don’t care about this shitty thing anyways. it’s been sitting dormant for too long and i wouldn’t be surprised if it gave out in the middle of the road, but thankfully it it doesn’t, and i successfully get to my destination.

i see my friend, jeffry, arms reaching out to his sides as he comes in for a hug.

“hey, man!” he leans in for a few seconds before we equally end the hug. he studies my rugged features. i didn’t mind shaving before i came, so my face has a bit of stubble on it, and im sure there are bags under my eyes.

“what’s gotten into you?” he jokes, seeing how i’ve let myself go.

i chuckle “well, not a marine anymore, so why not live my life to the fullest” i say with a half smile.

“yeah id do the same” he says, half joking and half serious as he nudges my arm. “let’s go inside, get some drinks?”

“sounds good to me” i respond, following him as he leads the way inside.

this is a big place, and there’s a sea of people. i stay close by to jeffry as to not get lost.

we reach a booth away from everyone on the left side of the club, my eyes scanning the sea of people. you can’t even see the bar from here, too many people.

jeffry offers to go get us drinks so both of us dont have to get up. i wait for him at the booth, pulling out my phone and scrolling through my messages.

i see mine and hers text messages together, my eyes scrolling through the conversation as a soft smile plays on my lips.

am i really smiling at text messages?

but i’m quickly broke from that train of thought as jeffry returns with the drinks.

“thanks, i appreciate it” i say, slightly monotone.

i like my whiskey neat, but anything else id just take shots of, thankfully he got a tray of options.

“so, how have you been?” jeffry asks, my icy blue eyes still scanning the area.

“i’ve been good, living with a roommate. shits a little different but i got used to it decently quick.” i look at jeffry, seeing curiosity on his face

“didn’t take you for the type to have a roommate”

“me neither, but i don’t feel like buying a house right now. maybe later when i get my shit together better” i respond, sipping my whiskey, enjoying the burn as it travels down my throat.

“yeah, i understand that” he says, a slight smirk crossing his features.

“so, you got a woman?” he asks, my eyes widening before i quickly hide it.

i sip my drink “ah, no, no woman yet.” i say, masking my reaction with a gentle smile.

“bummer” jeffry says. “maybe you can find one tonight?” he suggests, his eyes scanning the room for a suitable match.

“nah, man. i mean, not now at least.” i say quickly “i dont have a woman, but i got my eyes on someone.”

“care to share?” he teases, looking at me intently. and i can’t help but laugh at the way he looks right now.

“if you really want to know, she’s my roommate” i say, my lips curling up. “she doesn’t know it, though, can’t risk telling her”

“what? that’s crazy, man” he replies, chuckling slightly. “seems like your in quite the predicament”

“yeah, not gonna lie it sucks, but it’s not bad living with her”

my eyes scan the room once again. seeing a familiar feminine silhouette near the bar, dancing with someone.

“yeah, that’s an upside” jeffry says, and i absentmindedly acknowledge it as i down the rest of my drink.

“hey, im gonna get another round. want anything?” i ask, mostly an excuse to snoop on whoever i im recognizing.

“nah, im good for now, still got these shots to take” he says before downing another shot, barely making a face after.

i let out a gentle laugh as i see it, and then im on my way to the bar, determined to scope this person out for some reason.

i get to the bar, my eyes landing on the two subjects, i don’t have a clear view yet, but i will soon.

“hey, just anything whiskey, neat.” i tell the bartender, my eyes still scoping out the area.

“coming right up” the bartender says, grabbing a glass and pouring my drink.

my eyes finally see the two dancing subjects, the world going silent around me as i see her.

suddenly the lights don’t seem so bright compared to the blush on her cheeks as he leans down to whisper in her ear, his hands on her hips.

i’m furious, my knuckles turning white as i clench them at my sides. i’m determined to go over there, to drag her ass out of this bar and tell her just how long i’ve been waiting for her to be mine.

the bartender gives me a worried look, but i don’t acknowledge it. all that’s in my head right now is taking her for myself.

i look at the bartender, saying “thanks” before leaving. i dont know what’s about to happen, but i can only hope it’s for the better.

i walk my way over to the dancing duo, my blood boiling as i hear her giggle at him.

“come to my place” i see him mouthing “you won’t regret it.”

i see her hand touch his chest, and my heart nearly jumps out of my ribcage. “lead the way” she says, my breathing slightly shallow as he takes her hand, leading her away.

i curse to myself, picking up the pace to get to them before they exit the bar. the man is big, but i’m bigger, i could take him if i needed too.

she sees me, and her eyes widen at the expression on my face “keegan? what are you-“ before she can finish the sentence i press my lips against hers, her eyes widening in surprise.

the man that had her hand growls as he sees the scene unfolding, her lips molding against mine perfectly as her eyes close.

i close my eyes as well, feeling her giving in to my lips.

the man gets angry and walks away as he sees she isn’t fighting me, my hand sliding to her cheek to deepen the connection between us, my other hand snaking around her waist, pulling her flush against my body.

she breaks the kiss and reopens her eyes, mine opening as well. i see her looking at me with a new expression, one i can’t quite pinpoint.

“what the hell, keegan?” she says quietly, the noise barely audible over the loud music.

i look down at her, her body still pressed against mine.

“i’m sorry” i whisper, my voice rumbling in her ear as my hand grips the back of her dress desperately. “i don’t know what i was thinking. but all i know is i need you” i murmur, not sure what else to say. my voice slightly trembling. this is the most vulnerable ive been around her, and i don’t know what to do.

CH:6

keegan presses me against the wall of our apartment, my lips meeting his as my hands slide under his shirt, wanting to feel his bare skin beneath my fingertips.

he picks me up and begins carrying me towards my room as one of his hands unzips my dress, my legs wrapping around his waist as i kiss and nip at his neck. he lies me down on the bed, his lips eager to explore my body.

he pulls my dress down just enough to reveal my perky tits, his mouth falling on my sensitive nipple, his tongue swirling around the peak as whines escape my mouth. my hips grind against him as he teases me, getting more bold with his actions. “shh” he whispers, pulling my dress off as he kisses down my stomach. “i’ll take care of you, doll” his voice makes me shiver, the raspiness dangerous.

his lips descend down my body further, reaching the hem of my lace panties. he slips them down, his fingers feeling the warmth and pool of need between my legs. “soaked.” he murmurs, his voice deep and husky as he teases my slit with his thumb.

“is this what you want? hm?” he asks, his voice slightly higher pitched, his breath brushing against my inner thighs. “mhmm” my hand tangles in his hair, gently pulling it, urging him on. “please, keegan, i need you so bad”

“i know you do” i feel him slowly slip a finger inside me, feeling me tighten around him as my teeth bite my bottom lip. “fuck, please” i beg louder, my body shaking with unquenched desire. i hear him chuckle before slipping another finger inside of me, excruciatingly slow.

finally, his tongue and lips meet my pussy, a breath of pure ecstasy leaving my lips. he begins moving his fingers as he sucks on my sensitive nub, my hips bucking against his face. “don’t stop” i cry out, his fingers fucking me faster as he devours my core. all i can think about is him, the way he makes me feel. and i never want it to end.

he feels me clenching around his fingers, a chuckle escaping his lips as he dives deeper between my legs “close already?” he purrs, curling his fingers to hit that sweet, sweet spot.

“mhmm” his icy blue eyes meet mine, and my cheeks burn hot pink. my fists tighten in his hair, pulling on the stands harder, but it doesn’t deter him, if anything, he moves more eagerly. “cum on my tongue, princess” he says, his rumbling voice a demand.

my body shakes, and my moans grow louder, his magic working perfectly on me. “that’s it, that’s it” he mumbles, my thighs tightening around his head as i come undone.

his name escapes my mouth as i coat his tongue in my essence, his fingers slipping out of me slowly, but his tongue continuing “atta girl” he praises, slowly easing me down from my high.

“i’m not done with you yet”

he moves back on top of me, my cheeks flushed and my breathing still erratic. he slips out of his clothes, my hands helping him as he exposes his body to me.

his cock is long and veiny, fitting his body perfectly. “fuck me, keegan, please” i whine, my hands grasping at him. he captures my lips in a fierce kiss, making me taste myself on him.

“mine” he whispers against my lips, his cock slowly pressing into me. “all mine”

i gasp at the sensation of him pushing inside of me, his words of ownership making my skin tingle.

he pauses once he’s fully inside of me. i feel so full. his hand presses on my lower stomach, feeling himself buried deep within me. “god your so fucking perfect” he pants, moving slowly at first so i can accommodate to his size.

i moan wildly even at this pace, his name leaving my mouth in a broken whisper. with each movement, the pleasure grows, my hips moving to meet his thrusts as they speed up.

i feel him pounding against my sweet spot, my back arching off the bed. “just like that” i whimper, his pace staying the same as he watches me writhe beneath him. “you like that, hm? my needy girl?”

my body responds more then my words ever could, the words that try to escape my mouth jumbled.

“look at how cute” he teases, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper. “i’ll fuck you good, baby”

his hand reaches down, rubbing my clit in time with his thrusts. “so fucking tight around me” he pants, his thrusts getting more erratic. “keegan” is all i can manage to say, my voice breaking.

he feels my body shaking, an impending sign of my release “close again?” he murmurs, grabbing my hands with one of his and putting them above my head, the other still working on my clit. he leans down, pressing kisses to my lips, trailing to my neck where he bites down, casing me to yelp.

“gonna cum” i utter out, his grip tightening on my wrists. “let me feel it, princess”

he thrusts deeper into me, triggering a chain reaction as i shatter around him. “mmmm, that’s it” he praises, feeling my walls pulsing as i coat his cock.

he continues thrusting, chasing his release, abusing my sensitive body. “keegan!” i cry out, my hands struggling against his hold. “oh god”

he lets go of my hands, allowing my free will. my hand travels to his arm, my nails digging into his skin. “just a little longer” he breathes out, his thrusts becoming erratic. “where do you want it?” he asks, groaning.

“cum in me” i stutter, my eyes rolling back from the pure ecstasy i’m feeling. “make me yours”

he chuckles, looking into my eyes “gladly”

he grabs my thighs, pulling me closer to him, making me moan louder as his thrusts get strained

“i’m gonna fill you so nicely” he purrs, his grip tightening on my thighs as his groans get louder.

he throws his head back, now pounding into me with reckless abandon. he growls deeply, thrusting roughly one last time, his load filling me.

we both gasp at the sensation, our bodies shaking as he continues for a few more seconds, easing us down.

“god, your so gorgeous” he whispers, his hand brushing my sweaty hair from my forehead.

i look into his eyes, panting heavily.

“you’re even better”

he chuckles, letting out a deep breath as he recovers himself.

he pulls out and lies down beside me, pulling me close, buried in my hair. a soft smile on his face, a rare sight.

we’re both too tired to speak much more, our bodies doing all the talking as we fall asleep intertwined.

(my first fic, bare with me ik its shit😔😔)

[jinnxd]

👩‍👦‍👦 CHAPTER 45 OMAKE 👩‍👦‍👦

“Pssssst!”

Kiya cracked her eyes open, the familiar chakra not any cause for concern. Standing in her doorway was the silhouette of little Naruto, complete with his adorable little sleeping cap perched on his blond head.

“Kiya-nee!” Naruto whisper-yelled, inching closer into her bedroom.

Resisting the urge to groan, Kiya sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes. “What is it?” She asked sleepily. If he had come in here to snitch again, she swore to the gods—

“Are you gonna get rid of me?” He asked, his voice incredibly small and wobbly. “Y’know, because I made such a mess and ruined your dinner! An—and I’m always fighting with Sasuke, and I even broke the window that one time—”

Her heart dropping into her stomach, Kiya immediately stood up and wrapped the boy in a hug. “Don’t be silly, Naru-kun, you’re here to stay! We’re family now, and you mean so much to me. You and Sasuke both. I’d never ever, not in a million years, get rid of you.”

“R-really?!” Naruto sniffled, wet tears falling onto Kiya’s shoulder. “Well… good! I like it here. A lot. Even with stupid Sasuke.”

“Be nice.” Kiya chided gently, pulling away from him to poke his whiskered cheek. At least the boy looked slightly apologetic. “Feel better now?”

He nodded happily, a content smile on his face. “Mhm!”

“Good.” Kiya said, smiling warmly at him before a yawn escaped her. “…Well, goodnight then.” Kiya said after a second, crawling back under her covers. Naruto just stood there, poking his pointer fingers together shyly, not making a single move to leave. She knew what he wanted. Rolling her eyes playfully, she pushed back the covers for him to crawl under, too. “Come on, then.”

Giggling giddily, Naruto began to hop up into her bed when another figure appeared in her doorway. “What the hell are you doing, dobe?” Sasuke growled, not waiting for an invitation as he stormed into her bedroom. “You can’t just come into Kiya-nee’s room like that!”

“…Well you just did, too.” Naruto pointed out defensively.

Her chibi-sensor going off and alerting her to yet another incoming fight, Kiya pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed, patting the space in invitation.

“It’s alright. Come on then, Sas-kun, join the party.” Kiya said dryly, kissing her hopes of a peaceful slumber goodbye.

He looked indignant at first, almost as if he was going to deny her offer, but then Naruto made his way up onto her bed without a second thought. Almost as if he was compelled to by the power of their rivalry, Sasuke did the same on the opposite side of the bed.

Pressing a second bedtime kiss to their foreheads, Kiya tucked the boys on either side of her in tightly. “Goodnight, you two. Sleep tight.” She murmured, letting her eyelids flutter shut.

“Goodnight.” Both boys replied, Naruto already half-asleep while Sasuke remained wide awake.

“Oh! And if either of you wake me up again tonight, you’re sleeping outside.” Kiya added cheerfully, eyes open once more, all too aware of the horrified glances she was met with from either side of her. With that, she closed her eyes one final time and sent her past self a ‘thank you’ for having had the wonderful idea to buy a king-sized bed.

Oddly enough, Kiya had the most peaceful (unmedicated) sleep she’d had in a long time—perhaps it had something to do with the way the morning sunlight revealed that both boys had snuggled up to her sides in their sleep, their young faces innocent and adorable as they slept.

She relished in the peaceful silence for as long as she could.

[catchyhuh]

candles. just. candles

don’t you love the unimportant questions i ask myself at 2 am about jigen daisuke. how DOES he feel about wax melts vs traditional wick candles. how DOES he feel. i will be getting more indepth about this than anyone has a right to

lupin:

oh baby

the only guy who unironically would love a candle as a present. you picked out a smell?? you picked out a smell you thought he would like and slash or made you think of him? a scent? something so difficult to pinpoint and describe? wait you paid how much for this? i don’t. well. i dunno if it’s… thirty dollars touching but it IS TOUCHING!

candles in ALL shapes and sizes. who give a shit. he’s half french and frenchies love that faux romantic shit like nobody else. fujiko enters the building, smells Wild Rose & Suede and just walks right back outside with no change in facial expression

when he was a kid he really really liked wax melts because it was fun to watch them slowly . melt. as wax melts do BUT he saw the candle wax stamp shit and suddenly he’s all about calling cards. suddenly grandpa doesn’t need to teach him shit about the importance and fun of calling cards he’s just ALL about calling cards and still is to THIS DAY

jigen:

well. this may shock you. but jigen is picky.

really his preference would be no candles i imagine but his sense of smell is already kinda busted anyhow so if you lit one two rooms over. he probably wouldnt notice! but if he IS noticing it’s best to go with some basic, almost unnoticeable thing. like. linen. or whatever (although being fair i do love a good linen)

the only candles he really has an opinion on are birthday candles. gotta have birthday candles. just for the comedy of sticking a candle in someone’s egg and ham biscuit at 6:14 in the morning 

but i have an answer for that initial question: wick truther. no matter how many times he hasn’t been paying full attention and has accidentally singed himself with the lighter. can’t spell wick without w

fujiko:

iiiii take it back fujiko could also be charmed by a candle gift. provided the gift giver a. also included a tiffany hairband or something or b. was somebody actually sincere that she really does like to some extent. who wasn’t rich. and couldn’t afford the tiffany hairband to go with the candle

like i said with perfumes and even her hair in canon and a million other things she doesn’t let herself get locked on the same thing for very long, but i can see her having one specific scent she really enjoys and maybe getting two or three. i almost typed buying. can you imagine. i almost typed fucking “fujiko mine might BUY some candles.” i really am tired

don’t underestimate the power of a good candle that shit can help you sleep for a week, calm you down from the worst day of your life, just make you appreciate the world for 5 minutes or even keep you uncomfortably awake for as long as you need. scent psychology. she looked into it when making those sleeping gas perfume bottles

probably saving one really nice candle for some event on the horizon like “we got the thing!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳” or “we didn’t die!!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳” 

goemon:

okay goemon is like. whatever about candles themselves. they smell nice. that’s kind of the opinion most people have because who… has an opinion on candles? but you know what he REALLY has an opinion on. candle HOLDERS.

he sees those little silhouettes carved out of the world’s cheapest nonflammable materials with the big dish at the bottom to catch excess wax and he’s like what an ART FORM. what an underappreciated necessity and ART FORM

so he gets a bit internally disappointed when lupin brings home some shit in glass. which is 70% of the market as of 1995. sorry goemon

also really enjoys those candles with the hollowed out center so they light up the non-melting wax on the outside. if anybody knows what those are. i saw them at a craft fair once! they had a zelda one.

just generally assume any novelty candle is his shit. i mean it’s… carving. you know he loves that stuff. and destroying the work by letting it melt is probably some metaphor he’d love and brood over for like an hour too it’s GREAT for him!

zenigata:

… candles? like. vague gesture here. candles? who has an opinion on candles? why would anybody care that much about… candles?? (quote from a grown man who gets giggly when he sees a teeny tiny bland vanilla scented candle in a hotel room)

zenigata has strong opinions on fucking cherry tomatoes vs sliced tomatoes in his salad with a trillion other ingredients in it. of COURSE he has some indecipherable passion about some nothing shit like candles

very much a candle warmer dude. sometimes the wick burns out before the candle is finished and now you’ve got a busted candle! for that matter the flame could be a FIRE HAZARD, if you aren’t paying attention. plus it keeps all the heat condensed into one spot (philosophy of a grown man who certainly didn’t get burnt six times trying to light the same candle one time)

unfortunately the longer i think about it the more everything about a candle seems like a bad idea for him. wax gets everywhere, the fire, the glass, smells really good but he immediately gets used to the smell and forgets to turn it off later, REALLY, THIS ISN’T A GOOD THING FOR HIM!