#chatty lamps

[tiffanylamps]

one had sex with the man who murdered his mother. the other had sex with the brother of the girl his father murdered these twinks are not the same. [or: things i said to @b1uetrees whilst watching the merciless]

[opaljm]

i am gonna sit down in front of my macbook this weekend and write for 30 hours straight if i have to, to have the second half of legend of the lamp out as a jungkook birthday fic.

[leaentries]

threes a crowd | nico hischier & luke hughes

summary: nico guiding his girl through having two men.

warnings: smut, dom!nico vibes, vibrator use, choking, p in v (protected), blowjob, deep-throating, slight masturbation, threesome, slight degradation (use of slut), praise, little to no major plot, not proofread

a/n: i feel like this was a long time coming. anyways, i think the ending is a little rushed but i hope yall enjoy! :)

The intense vibrations shot through your body like lightning.

“Fuck!” You threw your head back.

Luke’s gaze admires your worn body covered in a sheen layer of sweat. His eyes were wide with curiosity as he upped the level of the lilac toy.

You felt like you were gonna burst out of your skin. The pleasure burned through every vein, every nerve you had. Panting, you reached up to grab the pillow by your head. It was almost too much for you.

“Careful, Luke. Don’t want to make her cum too fast.”

Your eyes shot open at the thick accent that echoed through the room. Lost in the heat of it all, you nearly forgot about the Swiss man you call your boyfriend.

In all fairness, the amount of orgasms that had been coaxed out of your spent cunt were unbelievable. Paired with the fact that Nico watched every twitch of your body that Luke provided was alluring. You felt drunk.

Nico’s hand moved to switch the vibrator off, gently taking it from Luke’s hand. Both, you and Luke, released sounds of displeasure.

He simply raised an eyebrow at the both of you, matching it with a curt, “Stop being brats.”

You rolled your eyes, distaste filling the empty trails where the sweet pleasure of climax had once been building.

Luke peered down, not sure what to do next. He was more bashful than his normal chatty personality. But you could only narrow that down to the fact that it wasn’t every day your captain let you in his bed. Let alone with his girlfriend.

“Don’t make me show Luke how to punish you, baby.”

Luke’s face grew hot.

Punish you?

The mere thought of doing something to edge on your pleasure and bring you teetering, or even have you begging was enough to make Luke’s cock jump and his stomach twirl. He had never felt this way before, nor made a woman shake with pleasure, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

His body ignited with tingling sensations at every brush of your hand on his bicep as you tried not to clench your thighs together.

“Lukey wouldn’t do that to me,” You turned to Luke with big eyes and battered lashes, “Would ya, Lukey?”

Luke swallowed harshly at your gaze. His cock was weeping.

“Uhm-” He was at a loss for words.

Nico’s hand moved to your throat before Luke could intervene. Long, thick fingers curled themselves slightly around your neck, sending a pleasured high to your brain.

“I thought I told you not to be a brat?” Nico’s words were harsh and mean, but the way his lips left bruises against your jaw proved he wasn’t as mad as you thought.

Luke watched as your body writhed under the large form of his captain. His mind was hazy as he studied the faces you’d make when Nico sucked on a specific spot by your collarbone. Once Nico pulled away, he turned to face Luke.

“I want you to make her feel good. Can you do that, Luke?”

The question rung coarse, Luke nodded hesitantly.

You opened your legs teasingly, your soaked folds gleaming in the lamp light. Luke switched places with Nico, now resting on his knees in between your thighs. Your boyfriend made his way to the cushioned chair in the room, his proud cock smacking against his abdomen as he sat down.

Nico could sense Luke’s hesitation by the way his hands meekly began to run up your thighs.

“Be harder with her,” He smirked, “My baby won’t break.”

Luke looked to you for approval. You nodded at him encouragingly. As he began to grow more comfortable and confident with his movements, he slowly trailed his long fingers to trace your clit.

“Mmm,” You bit your lip with a moan. Waves of gentle pleasure began to roll through your tummy. The slow paces of Luke’s circles were teasingly amazing. They added just enough pleasure to ignite that fire inside of you once more.

Turning your head to the side, your eyes met Nico’s blazing ones. His eyes were so blown out in lust they looked black. Nico’s chest heaved as you could see the remnants of precum dripping from his swollen tip.

You bit your lip at the sight.

“Like what ya see, schatzi?” Nico smirked at you.

You nodded desperately. You had to swallow a wanton moan as Luke applied more pressure to your clit. It was overwhelming. You tried to keep your eyes open as you watched Nico slowly spread the precum from his tip over his shaft. He gripped the base lightly, tilting his head back.

“Such a slut for me, huh?” Nico asked aloud, “You have another man playing with that pretty pussy, yet you can only look at me.”

You whined.

Although what he was saying wasn’t a total lie. Nico knew you belonged to him and he also knew that no matter who was touching you, he’d always know your body best.

The agonizing pace of Luke’s fingers began to frustrate you, you needed more.

“Tell Luke what you need, baby.” Of course. Nico could always tell when you needed something extra help bring you to your release.

Luke’s eyes met yours immediately, scared he wasn’t pleasing you. He retracted his fingers, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

“Need you inside me, Lukey.”

Oh fuck.

Luke could have sworn he almost came on the spot. His cock throbbed at your tone of voice, balls clenching with need. He couldn’t agree fast enough, frantically searching for a condom.

Now, even though Nico was being nice enough to let Luke have the privilege of fucking you, it was not going to be without protection. Nobody but Nico was allowed to enter you raw. That was something he wasn’t gonna give up.

As you watched Luke remove himself from the bed to grab a condom, you reached for Nico, signaling you wanted him to come over to you. Nico rose, his delicious cock shining beautifully as he walked to you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled his lips to crash into yours.

Nothing could compare to the warm taste of Nico’s lips.

You pulled away, panting as you caught your breath. “I want you too, Neeks.”

Nico smiled at your shy request. “Yeah?” He cocked his head to the side, “You want me to fill that pretty mouth?” His thumb pulled your bottom lip down slightly.

“Please.” You whimpered.

He nodded in acknowledgment, “Okay, schatzi. Whatever you want.”

As Luke turned to make his way towards the bed, he noticed Nico’s presence. He remained stoic, unsure of how to proceed.

“C’mon Luke,” He called the younger boy over as you positioned yourself on your hands and knees, “You can get behind her.”

Luke practically scrambled behind you, his cock eager to plunge deep inside of your velvet walls. He grabbed onto your hips, as Nico moved in front of you.

“Ready, baby?” Nico met your eyes with concern.

You replied with a confident, “Yes,” your body buzzing with anticipation.

Nico nodded toward Luke, giving him the go-ahead. Luke dragged his tip from your clit up to your throbbing hole, taking his time to spread your arousal. He finally sunk in, stretching you out deliciously. Your jaw dropped in a silent scream as Luke eased himself in further. You felt the room grow hotter, your breath picking up at the slight burn Luke’s dick sent through you.

Nico took this as an opportunity to pump himself a few times, before lightly tapping your lips. You opened your eyes at him, tears already beginning to form as Luke started to thrust.

“Open,” Nico demanded.

You obliged gratefully, jaw going slack to compensate for Nico’s size. Your eyes rolled back as you felt both of your soaking holes simultaneously being filled to the brim. You felt so full.

Your mind was hazy as both men found a comfortable pace. Luke’s hands dug deeper into your hips, his head thrown back in a whine.

“Fuck,” He cursed, “So tight.”

You spasmed around his cock, as Nico fisted your hair tightly. You brought up your right hand to hold onto Nico’s thigh, a feeble attempt to ground yourself. Hallowing your cheeks and breathing through your nose, Nico’s cock slipped deeper into your throat. He swallowed roughly, feeling his stomach tighten at the sight of your ass bouncing back against Luke’s pelvis.

“Doing such a good job for us, schatzi,” His head fell forward with pleasure, “Always such a good girl.”

You whined appreciatively around his length, feeling your own pleasure begin to build. You squeezed impossibly tighter around Luke, drawing curses from the curly haired boy’s mouth.

He shook his head, “Not gonna last, fuck.”

Luke’s abdomen clenched as his impending orgasm hurled towards him. He gradually slowed his pace, reaching a hand over your body to rub sloppy circles into your clit.

Another one of Nico’s rules; Luke couldn’t cum until you did.

Dropping your head, Nico’s cock sprung up, “Fuck! Gonna cum!”

You felt your climax hit you unexpectedly hard, pussy gripping Luke’s cock like a vice. The added pressure sent Luke over the edge, his body collapsing forward at the impact of his finish. He shot thick white ropes into the condom, making sure to leave a bite mark or two on your shoulder.

Nico pumped his cock steadily, the sight of your fucked out form and teary eyes were enough to have him painting your chest and chin white with his seed. Your orgasm lasted longer than Luke’s, the boy beginning to whine from overstimulation as he fucked you through the entirety of your climax.

As you finally finished, Luke pulled out slowly. You grimaced at the cool sensation of air on your over-sensitive folds. You felt a body collapse next to yours on the bed, another moving to wipe the spent from your chest.

You sat there a moment, too tired to open your eyes.

“You okay, pretty girl?” Luke’s voice echoed lightly in your ear.

You smiled at his concern, “Never better.” Your voice came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Yeah, sit up, baby.” Nico came to your side to help you up. “Here, drink some water.” You felt a hand help you hold the cup, but your mind was too far gone to really comprehend who was doing what.

After you had been properly taken care of and dressed in a hoodie, Nico filled in the spot next to you, pulling you into his body.

He kissed your temple, mumbling into your hair, “You did amazing, schatzi. Thank you for making us feel so good.”

Luke watched with big eyes, staring from the foot of the bed. His hand fidgeted nervously with the sweats he had on, unsure of what to do. Luke was still new to the whole ordeal, after all.

“Come here, Lukey.” You lifted your arm on the left side of your body, signaling for Luke to lay down. Not wasting another second, Luke curled into your side, your fingers moving to situate themselves into his curls.

You leaned up to give a gentle kiss to Nico’s lips before settling back down and closing your eyes. You felt warm and cozy, the comforter now thrown over the three of you. The quiet hum of the fan provided a sense of familiarity to an otherwise, strange situation. Yet, you couldn’t have been more content.

Surrounded by your boys, you fell asleep almost instantly, your body worn by the previous activities. Luke followed suit, your hand drawing coaxing patterns in his scalp. Nico placed a final kiss on your head, snuggling deeper into your hair as, he too, succumbed to his drooping eyelids.

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 5

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Get ready, there be some surprises in store for this one…

Word Count: 5,100 Warnings: 18+ only. Smut (m. receiving oral and implied smut), SB’s attempts at flirting lol.

Part 5: Morning, Night & Day

Now that you were allowed to roam the mansion freely, you were able to confirm that it was huge. And it was beautiful…if a bit dusty. 

The house boasted Spanish style arches and textured walls, cherry wood furniture and rod iron lamps and wall sconces, not to mention various art pieces on the walls that looked well-curated. No doubt Soldier Boy had hired an excellent interior designer.

You were more interested in the garden outside. It was tucked away behind the pool, in the shade of large palm fronds and bigger trees. Peeking through them was a lovely view of the mountains. 

Though it reminded you of the damn cliff where you fell, Soldier Boy saving you, and of course, being an arrogant asshole about it. 

Your lips pursed in annoyance. What a dick.

Expelling a heavy sigh, you shook the thought of him out of your head as best you could, and tilted your head up to the sunshine. You’d found a nice stone bench to just sit and be, and try not to think about why you were here.

“Lunch time,” Frank said, encroaching on your solitude. He wasn’t a chatty man, always one to hand off your meal and leave. Escort you back to your room and leave. 

You were bored enough (and perhaps lonely enough) to attempt a conversation.

“You seem to be the brains of the operation,” you remarked. “Yet he’s got you babysitting me. My condolences.”

Frank gave you a bland look. He wasn’t a hothead like Tony, but he was starting to look annoyed as he was still holding out the plate to you. It looked like a roast beef sandwich on rye with some mixed fruit on the side. At least they were trying to keep you healthy.

“I’m not a fan of rye bread,” you admitted. “Tastes like sour cardboard.” 

But you took the plate anyway. 

“Want to sit?” you offered a place next to you on the bench, before Frank could scurry off. “I doubt doing Soldier Boy’s bidding is more fun than ignoring me for a few minutes.”

You could tell he was about to leave anyway. So you tried one more thing.

“He’d probably want you to watch me,” you pointed out. “Make sure I don’t choke on a grape or something.”

Frank’s mouth twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. After a moment of indecision, he surprised you by sitting down with you. You’d been trying to get Frank to talk to you for days, but he was definitely the strong and silent type. The good soldier, following his orders. 

You were a curious person by nature, but more than that, you wanted to know what kind of men your captors were. You weren’t just learning Soldier Boy. You had to learn his team too.

So you offered Frank a grape. He met you with a raised brow, but he didn’t take it. You shrugged and popped it into your mouth.

“So,” you started, tucking into your sandwich next. “Ex-military, turned private sector?” 

Frank shot you another look. He was older than you, though not quite old enough to be your father. He could have been around M.M.’s age.

“You carry yourself like an military man. Marine maybe,” you guessed. 

Frank sighed and gave a short nod. “Good guess.”

“My father was a Marine,” you said. And that was the truth. Military men ran in your family—from your father to your grandfather, though you’d never met the latter. He’d died of liver and kidney failure, thanks to good old-fashioned alcoholism.

Frank snorted. “My condolences.” 

You eyed him with a small smile. “You got a family? Wife and kids?”

He hesitated, casting his gaze ahead. You sensed it was a question with a potentially loaded answer, so you let it be. 

“Yeah,” you said. “I know the feeling, being married to your job. Harder to quit than heroin.” 

When you offered him another grape, this time, he actually took one.  

Being able to tell between night and day somehow told your body that the night was no longer for sleeping. So your wandering continued that night. 

Moonlight poured through the tall windows outlooking the garden, but most of the mansion was dark and eerie and all but silent, except for some quiet rain pattering outside. 

It’s like an episode of Scooby Doo in here, you thought with a shiver. The long halls were empty and mostly dark, with just a few dim wall lights along the way. Still, you’d rather be alone than run into one of Soldier Boy’s goons, or even the man himself. 

But you wanted to rejoice when you found the kitchen. Finally, you could put together a meal for yourself that wasn’t a damn sandwich. 

Both the pantry and fridge were fully stocked with expensive-looking ingredients. At the moment though, you weren’t so hungry for a heavy meal as you were for a snack. Maybe something for your incurable sweet tooth. 

You rifled through and found something you recognized: a family-sized tray of Chips Ahoy. 

Ooh, success! With a grin, you ripped open the top and rifled through the cupboards for a glass.

“The hell’re you doing?”

You jumped with a yelp at the voice that startled you. You looked over your shoulder and frowned in annoyance when you noted Soldier Boy in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame. A snappish retort was on your tongue, but at the last moment, you held onto the threads of your temper.  

Don’t be difficult, you reminded yourself, however much the thought grated.

“Midnight snack,” you replied, nodding to the open parcel of cookies. “Want some?”

You took out two glasses without looking at him, but you could hear him approach. When you went to the fridge to look for some milk, you noticed him take a seat at the kitchen island in front of you, where there were three stools. 

“What’re you, a fucking eight-year-old?” he remarked. You raised a brow at him and took no less than five cookies from the tray. 

“You’re never too old for milk and cookies,” you said sagely. You were a proud dunker, and you did so until your cookie was half-soggy with milk. You shoved an entire one into your mouth and looked him in the eyes when you did it. 

His lips tugged upwards, dryly amused, while his gaze not-so-subtly raked over your form. You almost rolled your eyes, but you resisted. He could take in your oversized shirt and sweats all he wanted.

“‘S that a man’s shirt?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Not a lot to pick from here at the Holiday Inn,” you quipped. You were running out of clean items that would actually fit you, and you weren’t about to run around here in some of the slutty shit you’d found.

“Can’t sleep?” You distracted him with the question, then slid a glass of milk in front of him. Regardless of what he said, he’d glanced at those cookies twice. 

This was an opportunity, you thought. A chance to get into his head, see what the fuck made him tick.   

Soldier Boy eyed the milk, then you. After a moment, he grabbed a cookie and took a bite. He didn’t answer your question, and instead asked one of his own.

“How’d you get caught up with Butcher?” he asked. 

You smiled behind your glass. It seemed he was curious about you too. 

“I work at Supe Affairs.” That was easy enough for you to admit. And if he was smart, he would’ve had Frank run a background check on you. 

Soldier Boy snorted. “Yeah, I figured that fucking much. Doesn’t answer my fucking question.”

So damn rude. You wanted to sigh. 

“I help run surveillance,” you said. But before he could ask his next predictable question, you continued, “Grace Mallory recruited me because I was a private investigator…and like you, I worked at Vought for a while.”

His attention piqued at that. 

“Though your tenure was a bit before my time,” you couldn’t help a light jab. 

His lips curved again. “Why’d you take a job you couldn’t hope to win? You got some vendetta against me, like Butcher?”

You arched a brow, watching him shove another cookie into his mouth. If anyone had a vendetta against him it was M.M., but trust Soldier Boy to conveniently forget murdering the man’s grandfather.

“You’re asking if I’m obsessed with you? I think not,” you said with a genuine chuckle, then sipped at your milk with some decency. Unlike your companion, who already had a pile of soggy crumbs on the counter beneath him.

Soldier Boy shot you a frown, and his eyes said he didn’t believe you. He sat back in his chair, his jean-clad legs falling open casually. His gaze on you, however, was anything but. You wouldn’t admit it, but it made heat creep up the back of your neck.

“Really?” he said. “‘Cause I gotta tell ya, sweetheart. During your slutty little seduction act, you were pretty fucking responsive.”

He rubbed his palms slow down his thighs, like he could still feel yours wrapped around his hips and grinding your hot core against his slacks. 

You stared back at him as your lips pressed together. 

Soldier Boy tilted his head at you, his smile turning smug. “The filthy sounds I was getting outta you…”

You set down your glass on the counter. Reaching for another cookie, you rested your elbows on the counter and leveled him with a teasing smile of your own. 

“Unlike you, Ben, I’m a good actor,” you replied. 

His brow twitched at that, however subtle. You couldn’t tell if using his real name annoyed him, or if it just added to the game you two were playing. But it felt right, stripping him of at least that façade. 

He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t even a superhero, really. He was just a man. 

Albeit, a super fucking strong one with an ego the size of Empire State. But a man. The same kind you’d dealt with all your life. 

And he crossed his arms, like he was starting to lose his patience with you. 

“Then why’d you come out here?” 

Munching on a dry chocolate chip, you answered, “To get paid. Why else?” 

Again, it didn’t look like he believed you. 

“You don’t look the type,” he said.

“Don’t I?” you said. He seemed to know you were holding something back, but not willing to admit he wanted to know it. 

And you weren’t willing to give it to him. He didn’t need to know that you’d taken this job to support your family. Because what the hell would he know about family? 

…But at the same time, his curiosity just made it all the clearer: in whatever small way, you’d piqued his interest. He wanted to figure you out. 

And maybe that was the real reason you were still alive. 

It started to happen like that more often.

Midnight snacks, as you’d continued to call it in your head. When you couldn’t take being alone with your thoughts (or being alone at all), if you made your way to the kitchen you often found Ben.

Whatever was keeping him awake, he seemed to crave the company as you rifled through the pantry. From alfajores, macarons, and chips, to the entire leftover ham from dinner, he often smoked a large blunt and ate whatever you found. 

You’d taken a hit once when he offered, but the shit was so strong than you abstained afterwards. You wanted to be in your fully right mind around him.

And you talked—about the old-ass TV shows he never got to see the end of, and the new music he hated. You’d enjoyed (gently) teasing him about being an old man who didn’t understand Cardi B when you played it on his phone. You suspected he didn’t quite understand how all the bells and whistles worked on an iPhone yet. (But he’d taken it back from you before you could text anyone.)

“In my day, there was a little more fucking class,” he’d said. “Sinatra. Nat King Cole. Christ, the fucking Beatles.” 

You’d rolled your eyes at that. You liked all those guys too, actually. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bang out all the words to “Bodak Yellow” and “Please Me.” 

You also talked about the movies he missed out on. The ones you thought he’d probably enjoy, like the Terminator sequels and Liam Neeson’s Taken (if only for the sheer irony). And all the while, he asked you probing questions he likely thought were subtle. 

“What did you do at Vought?” he asked over chips and salsa. 

You thought the salsa was a bit too spicy, but he was lapping it up. It both amused and disgusted you. 

Until he licked some of it off his fingers. Catching your gaze, his became mischievous. He slid his fingers out of his mouth with an obscene noise. All the while, his deep green eyes held yours. 

You would never admit to being turned on, but you felt your cheeks warming up as you fought not to react, watching the juices drip down his fingers.

“I ran down criminals for the supes to ‘catch’ them,” you managed to reply. “They just got to do the sweeping in part.”

“Lazy shits,” he remarked, licking off the remaining salsa from his hand. You tried not to focus on the sight of his tongue. Afterwards, he gave you reprieve by wiping his hands on a paper towel.

What the fuck is wrong with me? You inwardly shook your head at yourself. 

“Back in my day, we actually ran down our own leads,” he said. “Sure, we got tips every now and then, but we did our own busts.”

You didn’t know how much of that you could believe, considering he’d never even fought in World War II, despite his numerous claims of pounding Nazis up the ass.  

“How’d you end up there, anyway?” he asked. 

“Vought paid more than private practice,” you wryly replied. 

He eyed you then. “And before?”

Before? Was he just bored, or did he genuinely want to know about your life? 

Still, this was starting to veer into things you’d rather not talk about.  

“Worked for my dad’s P.I. firm,” you said, making an effort to untighten your spine. “I learned what I know from him.”

That much was the truth, though you hadn’t spoken to him in over a year. 

Ben chortled, making you frown. “‘A’ for fucking effort there, sweetheart.”

You huffed. Yes, you did realize the irony of being kidnapped by the man you’d hunted down (sort of). Didn’t mean he had to be such an asshole about it.

“He must be fucking proud,” he added. Your gaze sharpened with irritation. 

“Like your dad was proud of you?” out came your pointed reply, before you could stop yourself.  

His amusement faded, likely as he stared back at you and saw that you knew for a fact what he’d told Butcher.

A fucking disappointment.

He didn’t bother lying, but his lip curled into a sneer. 

“Be careful, sweetheart,” he warned. You heard the underlying threat in his voice. You forced yourself to keep your mouth shut, lowering your eyes. The act was grating on you, boiling your blood.

But it seemed to mollify him enough. He let out a low chuckle. 

“I’ll let that one go,” he said. “Next time, I might not be so fucking nice.”

You believed him. 

It was a week of this, before you finally found out the hard way where Ben’s room was. 

You were wandering down a long hallway on the second floor, over in the west wing of the house. Your room was in the east, so you really hadn’t seen this side of the mansion before. The problem was, all these halls were looking the same to you. 

And now you had no idea how to get back to the main hall, where by now you could navigate downstairs to the kitchen, the back garden, the pool hall, a study room (with several shelves of books), a gym, and even an indoor movie theater. 

Suddenly, you thought you heard a woman’s voice, high and giggly. What the hell?

Your natural curiosity led you farther down the hall, where you could see light and movement beneath the closed door. Whatever (and whoever) was in there, you really should just let it be. 

You’d been able to successfully avoid Ben for the past few days, and you didn’t feel like dealing with the headache of another encounter with him—for as long as you could manage it.

So you were just about to turn back and keep on your merry way.  

But when you heard a slap, followed by a feminine cry of pain, you halted in your step. With your brows crunching in concern, you couldn’t help but approach the door again. You leaned in to listen.

Another slap, another pained mewling from the girl. Your mouth turned down in an angry frown of alarm. 

What the fuck is going on? You didn’t know what kind of sick shit he was into, but if he was hurting some poor girl for his own entertainment, you knew you couldn’t just walk away. 

After one more second of hesitation, you gripped the door handle and shoved it open. 

What you found seared your eyes. 

In unblinking shock, you took in the shambled state of Ben’s room. Clothes strewn haphazardly about, remnants of lines of coke on the coffee table, plates of half-eaten delicacies left on a wheeled in buffet, bottles of liquor, half-empty glasses and shots rolling around. 

And a California king bed occupied the center, where the sheets and pillows had fallen off while Soldier Boy fucked no less than five prostitutes. All looked to be of various ethnicities and a wide age range. The oldest of them looked saggy enough to be in her seventies, but she was working as hard and skillfully as the rest of them.  

One of the younger ones, maybe around your age, was getting spanked by one of his large hands while another girl’s head bobbed over his lap with gusto. The other three were finding things to do, whether on the man himself, or to each other in front of him on the bed. 

In reality, you probably took all this in for just a few seconds. 

But a gasp fell unbidden from your lips, along with a “Jesus fucking Christ!”

Ben looked like he had been working up a mild sweat. Broken from his concentration though, he glanced up at you. And then the broadest, Cheshire cat fucking grin spread across his face. 

“Hey, baby doll,” he greeted mischievously. “You here to join in? Here, tag in for, uh…what’s your name again, sweetheart?”

He looked down and grabbed the shoulder of the girl in his lap. She released his cock out of her mouth for a second to answer, “Jasmine.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod. Then he frowned and gestured to his still rock-hard dick. Your eyes widened in shock—both at the audacity, and at the size of it. You blushed hotly.

“But don’t fucking stop now, Jesus,” he said to the girl. And he looked over at you with a raised brow. “Unless you wanna jump in…but seriously, don’t make me wait all fuckin’ day here.”

Your face contorted in disgust. 

“There’s not enough fucking therapy for this,” you muttered. 

Then you fled the room, slamming the door behind you so hard that it rattled. It still didn’t muffle his laughter behind the door. 

Your face, neck, and the tips of your ears were on fire as you hastened down the hall. 

By the time you got to the kitchen, you could even hear your rapid heartbeat in your ears. You set a hand over your chest and felt the thump, thump, thumping under your palm. 

Images continued to flash through your mind—naked flesh, bouncing tits, shockingly adept wrinkled hands. And then the man’s chiseled bare form, planes of tanned skin over muscle, and strong-looking hands.  

Fucking hell. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of your brain’s ongoing loop, but it was a losing battle. With a long and frustrated sigh, you reached into the fridge and grabbed all the ingredients you needed to make a damn sandwich. 

You knew Ben had hired a personal chef (Simone, you thought her name was), but you were pretty sure she was currently part of the service the supe entourage today. 

You slapped together a turkey and provolone sandwich with some lettuce, mayo, and a pickle for added “razzle dazzle.” 

Though on second thought, you put the pickle back. 

With an aggravated huff, you stood at the counter and tore into your dinner (you were too angry to sit at this point). You devoured half of it and nearly a whole bag of Doritos by the time that cocky bastard strolled in like the cat that got the cream, and clearly, more than once.

He looked freshly showered, and finally clothed in casual pants and a buttoned down shirt, rolled up on the sleeves.

Ben eyed you with a smirk. You raised a brow at him. 

“That was fast,” you remarked. “I expected you to be in that fuck dungeon all night.” 

“I wouldn’t call it a dungeon,” he said, leaning on the other side of the counter opposite you. “More like a cellar of fine delectables.”

You snorted. “All right, Hugh Hefner. I want to scrub my eyes with bleach.”

“Didn’t look that way from where I was sitting, doll face,” he quipped. His brow rose at you with a salacious, curling smile. You leveled him with a look. 

“At the very least, you would’ve ended that little dry spell of yours,” he added playfully. 

Your gaze sharpened at that. You dropped your sandwich on the plate to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“What’s it been?” he asked, leaning closer into your personal space with a more knowing grin. “Don’t really fucking tell me it’s been three years since somebody’s laid you out right.”

Despite your outrage at his audacity, your mouth fell open the slightest bit. 

“What…”

Again, he eyed your form, and not subtly at that. Today you’d found a pair of jeans that you’d managed to squeeze into. The polo shirt clinging to your waist and ribs and tight across your breasts wasn’t helping you either.

But you were honestly surprised he could still be looking at you like that when he’d just been doing some Olympic-level fucking. 

Your spine tightened nervously when he straightened to his full height, walking around the kitchen counter towards you. His hand slid across the surface, his head tilting at you in amusement. 

“It’s amazing what you can hear on shitty hotel roofs,” he said. 

Your eyes widened when you understood what he was getting at. When you were on the phone with your sister… 

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa had said. “And finally put an end to that three-year goddamn dry spell.”

And that prickly feeling you’d felt then, licking up your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck…

“You were watching me,” you realized.  

Ben just looked down on you with a deepening smirk. His green eyes were alight with mischief, and yeah, probably lust too.   

“You fucking creep,” you said, with both a sigh and a roll of your eyes (despite your growing blush). 

He chuckled and raised a hand to lightly grip your chin. “That’s not very nice.”

You glared up at him, too angry and stubborn to remember to mind your temper. He seemed to like it though, working you up. He teased and prodded you enough, almost like a little boy trying to get a girl’s attention. Except this one was the most powerful supe alive.

So why does he like it so much, this stupid cat and mouse thing?

Not for the first time, you wondered why he decided to keep you around. And you had a feeling it wasn’t just to bait your friends. Maybe he just liked toying with you, seeing how far he could push until you snapped.

And then what? you wondered. 

Though if you were honest with yourself…you were just as into this little game as he was, albeit for different reasons. You wanted to understand him. 

At first, it was the job. Know the man you’re after.

But now, it was more. Knowing Soldier Boy, getting to know Ben would be the key to making it out of this situation alive. You just knew it…if only he didn’t make it so damn frustrating. 

“Seriously, tell me,” he said, still with a deceptively light grip on your chin. The pad of his thumb brushed your full lower lip, making your breath hitch. He glanced down at your mouth, then back into your eyes. 

“How fucking long’s it been since that pretty pussy’s been touched?” he asked. “‘Cause in my opinion, that’s a crying shame.”

For a moment, your breath got stuck in your throat. You felt a hot blush rising in your cheeks, down your neck…and maybe warmth between your legs at the mere suggestion.

You inwardly steeled yourself, clamping down on your anger and your embarrassment. Instead, you leveled him with a cool smile. 

“Not forty years, I’ll tell you that,” you said. 

While he raised a brow, he let you slowly push his hand away. You left him in the kitchen soon after, but he watched you go. Whether you meant to or not, the sway in your hips and your delectable ass in those tight fucking jeans made his dick twitch. 

Figures, he thought, that you’d get all fucking huffy. He shrugged and picked up half the sandwich you left behind. 

You found nothing else for your frustration but to head outside.

With a sigh, you sat down at the edge of the massive pool and just dipped your legs in. You didn’t have a swimsuit, and you didn’t want to take any chances by getting your clothes wet around here. Or even worse, stripping down to your bra and underwear. 

You blushed at the memory of Ben’s proximity, his touch, his rich, teasing voice that dripped with lustful promise. And that just reminded you of the scenes from his room, which flashed in your mind every so often like a bad porno. 

Shit. You absently bit at one of your nails. Ben had also heard that entire conversation with your sister. That meant he knew about her, and that gave you no small amount of anxiety. 

But he already had you. He hadn’t tried to extort you for anything (yet). You knew though, that if he threatened Luisa, or tried to use her to manipulate you in any way, there wasn’t much you could do but play along, like everything else. 

Right now, anyway… 

You noticed a dark shape out of the corner of your eye, and for a moment you were annoyed, ready to tell Ben to give you a moment’s peace. 

But it wasn’t him. It was Tony standing near the end of the pool. He must’ve been freed from desk duty, or whatever Ben had him doing while he presumably recovered from his injuries.

“What up, Tony?” you greeted, unable to resist a teasing smile when you noticed the large boot for his broken foot. Now plus a few extra bruises from your last tussle. They were dark, but yellowing around the edges. 

His lips twitched at a cold smile. “They’re letting the little mouse out of her room now?”

You shrugged, smirking.

“You look good,” you replied. “How’re the balls though? Still broken?”

Tony expression tightened into a glare. “You better watch it, bitch.”

“Or what?” you challenged.  

There was enough distance between you and him across the pool for you to feel comfortable, but really, you weren’t too afraid of Tony.

Yeah, he was a dick. But you’d taken him down before. You could literally break his balls again if he needed more encouragement to fuck off. 

Tony just smirked back at you, deciding to leave you alone for now. You watched him head back into the house with sharp eyes. He wouldn’t take you by surprise again.

Frank was waiting for you when you got back to your room. You were more relieved to see him than you’d like to admit, and you greeted him with a genuine smile, before you noticed the shopping bags in his hands. 

“What’s this?” you asked. Frank dutifully handed you the bags, and inside you found new clothes. They actually seemed to be your size. 

You looked up at Frank, both shocked and grateful. “You got me clothes?”

“Boss’s orders,” he revealed. Your brows rose high at that. 

“He told you to do this?”

Frank expelled a breath through his nose, hesitating, like he was debating how to frame his reply.

“He provided them,” he said. It felt like a confession, one that made your eyes widen at the implication.

Soldier Boy bought you new clothes? 

You didn’t know how to compute on this one, honestly. But you still answered with a tentative, “Oh. Well…thanks.”

He nodded, and soon left you with your thoughts and your spoils. You went into your room and dumped the bags onto the bed so you could examine their contents. 

There were casual shirts and yoga pants, a couple pairs of jeans, some sneakers, thank God. All the bras and panties, however, were lacey and expensive.

You shook your head with a smile, eyeing the labels. This man really went to Victoria’s Secret to buy you new underwear. 

It was both kind and somewhat sleazy, knowing he was going to be imagining you in the sexy, but admittedly tasteful lingerie. 

The “kind” part took you by surprise though. The clothes overall weren’t revealing or obnoxious. Even the underwear and bras were in styles you’d probably wear, under normal circumstances. 

So you put together an outfit out of one of the shirts and a pair of jeans, breathing a sigh of relief when you could peel the old ones off. 

This was a far cry from bullying and annoying you, and generally being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

The truth was, Ben was confusing you.

Perhaps now more than ever. 

AN: 🤭 Well, one would argue that she saw more sides of Ben than she thought she would (or wanted to). 😜

Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Things are definitely going to ramp up in the next one...

Keep Reading: PART 6

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[half-dead-ham]

With chaos brings Justice

My last entry for the DpxDCshipweek, sad I couldn't get through it in it entirety, but happy I made some for it at all!

links: [Ao3] Wc: 6656 Cw: implied/referenced torture

John Constantine was a man of few pleasures. He liked booze, nights with a full bed and belly, and keeping his head attached to his shoulders.

 So when he felt a surge of chaos magic flood the board room of the Justice League Watchtower one long morning into their bi-monthly meeting that for some reason he decided to show up to, he felt any chance of him recovering this day with booze or food leave the solar system entirely.

 Before the other Leaguers even felt the pressure change that came with teleporting magics John was on his feet, readying a defence spell just in case who (or what) decided to attack first, talk second. ‘Course the other gits just saw him knock back his chair with a flask of whatever he’d poured himself last night and thought for a second he was trollied.

 He always loved it when the other blokes did that. Fuckin’ hell, where was Zatanna when you needed her?

 He would’ve cracked a smile when the rest of them finally got the memo that sumthin’ foul was afoot, but John was too focused on the fact that he recognized the magic to try and play this off as anything but deadly serious. Why was he the only one here that was able to deal with this particular brand of chaos? Why couldn’t he have bloody stayed home like all the other bloody times he’d missed a meeting?

 The magic was perceptible now, a swirling red cloud hovering over the conference table like it might start raining blood, a static in the air, the smell of lamp oil and chaos magic making John's nose twitch. There wasn’t any use in trying to fool himself as a figure formed in the cloud, and any trace of those lovely effects of his bevvy of choice went straight out the airlock.

 A pale-faced child emerged from the mist, curly black hair with two styled points partially obscuring a set of beady black eyes that looked down their nose at the group surrounding the table.

 “Klarion,” the teen turned to John, expression unusually flat. The witch boy Hadn’t yet said anything, and his blasted familiar kept its place on his shoulder, hissing but not leaping into action.

 Now that John got a good look at the chaos magic user he almost wanted to look surprised. Klarion had changed his style; no longer was he dressed in puritan settler chic, now he wore dark jeans with black converse, a white t-shirt with the runic symbol for creation in red, and a black sleeveless overcoat. It looked grunge, and John could almost appreciate it.

 Almost.

 “Now what does the infamous Witch Boy need that he’s ‘ported in 'on our lovely gathering?” John asked, seeing as the teen (an’ he looked like a proper teen now, didn’ he?) wasn’t feeling especially chatty. His defensive spell was almost complete, if John could just keep the lil shit distracted for a little longer-

 “Stupid heroes, I have come because I have a task for you,” the Witch boy announced, looking like he sucked a lemon while saying it.

 John could see a few others in the room looking at each other in confusion, but he kept his eyes firm on the brat in front of him. “Oh? An’ what task would require our services, oh mighty mage?”

 The Witch Boy’s eyes narrowed at him, clearly not liking the sarcasm in his tone. Surprisingly, to him at least, Klarion turned to Superman, not falling to the taunt like he would’ve before.

 “Someone I respect has been captured by the American government, and while I would have no problem raising the place to the ground myself-” more than a few of the heroes present tense at that, “-this person would only find more trouble in me doing so.”

 Now that brought up a nice heap of questions for the surrounding men in tights. Why, or better yet how does Klarion know someone that needs help from the Justice League. Someone who he apparently respects enough to go for help from a group of stuffy adults with sticks shoved so far up their-

 "And why should we help you?" The big ol' Bat asks what's on the tip of everyone's tongues.

 Klarion turns to the Caped Crusader with the most serious expression John had ever seen on the Witch Boy. "Because the High King of the Dead needs help escaping the living, and you guys love to make sure this stupid plane of existence doesn't fall to war."

~~~~~

   "You seriously aren't helping, Witch Boy!" Danny calls out to the cackling teenager as he evades yet another tentacle from the thing coming out of the side of a large floating island. More of a mountain, really, but Danny's a little too tied up to care.

 "Hit 'em again!" The pale-faced teen on the sidelines jeered as the ghost boy shot off another volley of ectoblasts towards what he's starting to dub as a hermit-ectopus. Grimacing, Danny did just that, raining a hail of green towards the writing mass of tentacles, finally pushing the thing back in its cave enough so that he could seal the entrance with ice.

 With that out of the way, Danny could finally take a breather. He put his hands on his knees for stability as he panted, annoyed. Ancients curse that stupid Witch Boy, he may not need to breathe in this form, but that was one hell of a workout. 

 The cackling to his left was finally starting to die down, but not before he heard the idiot making his way closer. One final exhale and he straightened back up, giving the other teen a side glare Mr. Lancer would be proud of.

 "Give me one good reason I shouldn't soup you right now, cat boy," he demanded with a scowl as he crossed his arms.

 "'Cause you still need me to help you get that stupid antidote for your stupid friends!" Klarion quipped back immediately, smug smirk stuck on his face. "Besides, it's not like your weak little can'll be able to do anything to me."

 "You're the one who poisoned them in the first place," he sneered back, letting his hatred of the other boy leak out through his aura while trying not to worry himself over Sam and Tucker back home.

 Klarion got closer, smirk growing menacingly wider, "Well who was the ghost that kept ignoring me? This is your fault and you know it."

 Danny said nothing, just punched Klarion in the face before flying off into the mountain grumbling, leaving the Witch Boy to deal with the blood falling onto his tie by himself.

~~~~~

   "Constantine, what do you know about this 'High King of the Dead'?" Batman asked after pulling the mage into the hall. They had left Superman to deal with the details and negotiations. He's always been better at that.

 "Not much, Batsy," John sighed, really wishing he could pull out a smoke. If it weren't for those blasted 'no smoking' rules the furry in front of him enforced, he'd be chugging like a train right 'bout now.

 Batman simply glared at the man for a moment before John got the unsaid ‘well, get on with it’. “Alright, alright, I do know some things, but I don’t know how useful they’ll be!”

 “Explain.”

 John sighed, “Not much information about the ruling body of the dead gets through to the realm of the living, that whole ‘dead men tell no tales’ bit. What I know of a King of the dead was that he was a right bastard that wanted his cake and e’ryone else's. Got locked in some coffin or what have you by his ruling court, and hasn’t been heard from for about two millennia ‘til the new one came about.”

 “And this new king, is he anything like the last one?”

 Before John could confirm or contradict the question a sharp laugh came from the other side of the conference doors. The two detectives looked at each other before heading back in, Klarion watching from his seat on the table as they rejoined the group.

 “The new High King of the Dead is nothing like the last one,” the Witch Boy stated with a sneer.

 Batman turned to Superman, asking with a silent tilt of the head. He got a head shake and shrug in return. “We were talking about why he would need us specifically when he just started laughing.”

 “Oh?” The occult detective spoke up, “And what makes you say that? If you respect him he must be pretty similar, eh? Why do you or him need our help?”

 Klarion looked down, a pinched expression taking over his face. “He’s nothing like me. He’s good.”

~~~~~

   Wind tore through Danny’s hair as he flew up to the massive Vortex rampaging through mid- America. He could barely see five feet in front of him before a tree or the rare car nearly takes him out of the sky. Klarion’s magic could be seen on his ten o’clock, trying to stop the raging wind before it throws something at him too. Danny dove to grab onto the magic caster, turning him intangible before the broad side of a barn could crash into him.

 “What did you even do to make him this angry‽” Danny yells over the wind, pulling the concentrating Witch boy to another spot so they could be harder to hit. It doesn’t help, as half a tree still nearly decapitates them.

 “Absolutely nothing!” Klarion ground back through his teeth, “He just started chasing me through the Realms! I thought I could lose him in this plane but he just followed me!”

 Another tree sailed their way, and Danny had to drag the other teen out of its path. He shot a volley of ectoblasts at some clumps of dirt launching themselves at them, breaking them up before they were close enough to hit them.

 “How long ‘til your spell finishes‽” Danny asks, throwing more ectoblasts into the swirling vortex of carnage. The tornado consumes them greedily, returning fire with debris from an old storage barn it had picked up.

 “Not fast enough!” Klarion shouts back, now flying under his own power as the harder parts of the spell conclude.

 They weave through projectiles after that, Danny obliterating the larger objects thrown their way so Klarion could focus more on his spell. They were at least lucky enough that they had lured Vortex out to farm country, where they could easily provoke him out of the way of any towns. That left just the crops and their tools for the weather ghost to throw.

 At least, until Danny spotted some larger buildings.

 “Better speed that spell up, Witch Boy!” Danny urged, realizing they were heading towards the city, and fast.

 “I’m going as fast as I can!” Was all the other teen could retort as he ground his teeth further, doubling his efforts anyway. Red light swirled fiercely around the pale boy, encircling him and his familiar before suddenly launching outwards to wrap around the tornado. The wind picked it up easily, quickly turning the angry winds and clouds above a sickening blood red colour. A triumphant grin spreads across Klarion’s face at the turn of events, a giggle bubbling up before being stolen by the wind. Danny would almost be scared at the situation if it were him that smile was going against, but right now he was just a little relieved.

 Klarion spoke one final word to his spell, and with it the red smoke pulsed bright, lighting up the whole cloud before the funnel just disappeared, leaving some dark yet still clouds above them. Danny could only stare at the sight in awe.

 “What did you do dude?” He asked, noticing the odd change in the air around them. It was strangely still, almost-

 “I froze the air in place, of course,” Klarion huffed hotly, and Danny turned his awed gaze to the teen next to him.

 “You froze the air?” 

 “Well,” Klarion’s cheeks started to gain an almost normal complexion as his blush rose at the attention. “It’s not frozen frozen, but I made it so it wouldn’t move. So yes, I froze the air.”

 When Danny didn’t move or change his expression Klarion’s blush only grew. Teekl gave a lax “meow” from the Witch Boy’s shoulders, breaking Danny’s trance and allowing Klarion the time to unruffle his proverbial feathers. The witch Boy coughed lightly in his hand as he turned away.

 “Teekl’s right, shouldn’t you be doing your job now? I’ve done all the hard work, pick up the slack Ghost Boy.” Only his familiar saw the light green blush spread over the ghosts cheeks before he gave a nod and flew off towards where he could sense the weather spirit.

 “Meow,” Teekl commented playfully.

 Klarion blushed harder, “Oh shut up you hairball.”

~~~~~

   The Javelin was speeding into earth's atmosphere towards the Americas, half of the Leaguers who had been in the meeting previously plus one chaos mage nestled inside. They had decided an impromptu rescue mission was in order, despite some worries of the Witch Boy leading item into a trap.

 Batman remedied this by keeping Superman on standby, Shazam on call, and taking Manhunter with them to catch any lies the teen might be telling them.

 The plane was dead quiet, and it was honestly making Hal antsy, especially sitting so close to someone they consider an enemy. His solution? Small talk.

 “So,” the green lantern drawled as he swiveled his chair to face the teen. “From the way you talk about this King it sounds like you have something a little more than ‘respect’ for the guy. Care to elaborate?”

 Klarion gave the Green Lantern a long side eye, making Hal even antsier in his seat. Seriously, how can a kid this dorky be this creepy?

 A terse meow from the cat in the boy’s lap and the stare broke, and suddenly Hal felt he could breathe again. Klarion sighed heavily, like the topic exhausted him before he even started, but before Hal could rescind his words the Witch Boy was talking.

 “The King of the Dead and I have known each other for a few years now,” he started. “And while at the beginning we were basically at each other's throats, after his coronation we figured out we didn’t really want to be enemies anymore. Looking back we had probably already decided that without saying anything, but it just got awkward to think about after.”

 “This king was crowned recently?” Batman asked from his place at the wheel.

 “Within the last three years, if I remember right,” Klarion replied flippantly. The Bat nodded, taking his focus back to flying to their charted destination. Not wanting more stifling silence, Hal picked the conversation back up.

 “If you’ve known the King of the Dead for over three years you guys must be pretty close, huh?”

 The Witch Boy huffed, “Yes, you could say that.”

 “So could you maybe tell us more about him? What’s he like? Does he have a hobby? Don’t leave us hanging man!” Hal was encroaching on a jeer with his tone, though he died down quickly at the flat stare he received from both mage and familiar. If Diana hadn’t spoken up he might've been afraid of turning into a toad.

 “I am also curious, Klarion. You haven’t told us much about someone you seem to care greatly over, anything you could tell us about them would help us settle whatever dealings they have with the American government.” At the moment the princess mentioned the government Teekl was on alert, Klarion’s expression soured with the change.

 “The ‘dealings’ they have with your stupid higher powers is that they want to hunt his kind for sport and resources,” He spat, to the astonishment of the league members. Bruce and Diana shared a glance from the front seats, dread seeping into Bruce’s gut at the news.

 “Could you explain that further? We need to know if we want to fix this,” Diana asked more seriously, motioning for Hal to take her seat as copilot so she could focus more on the conversation at hand.

 (Hal was thankful for the distraction.)

 “Your government,” the teen hissed, eyes glinting dangerously red before settling back to their eerie black. “Has been trying to catch Phantom since before I met him. They’ve deemed anything that holds ectoplasm in their body as unfeeling and mindless, and deemed them worthy of extermination and experimentation.”

 “That can’t be legal, non-humans are protected under the Metahuman rights acts.” Diana comments with a frown.

 Klarion rolls his eyes at the princess, “Everyone says that when they hear it, but I assure you, Phantom has talked my ear off about the Anti-ecto acts more times than I care to count. They’re real, and heavily enforced.”

 Diana gave a sidelong glance to the front of the ship, noticing Batman already searching for these ‘acts’ while ever so slightly speeding up their flight. It was worrying that even Bruce didn’t know about this, considering his incessant need to keep up with things that could inevitably cause harm to those he wants to protect. She left that for him to deal with, refocusing the conversation back to lighter topics. “You mentioned ‘Phantom’, is this the king’s name?”

 The Witch Boy gave a small hum, hand moving to idly stroke Teekl’s fur as they settled with the change of topic. “He told me it was originally the name he chose for himself when he started protecting his little town, and by the time he was crowned the ghosts all knew him by that name and it stuck.”

 “Oh? The king is a hero?” Aside from Deadman, she had never heard of any spirits calling themselves heroes. Though it wasn’t entirely a surprise that another spirit wished to help others from beyond the grave.

 Another hum from the teen in front of her, face reading more thoughtful as he presumably went back to the first time they had met. “Yes, he was doing something incredibly stupid, though he called it ‘heroic’ at the time. I still don’t see why he needed to destroy that artifact after he rewrote reality, but then again he was still a boy when he did that.”

 …

 “Pardon?” Diana said, stunned. Klarion either didn't notice the stunned silence he had created or didn’t care as he continued.

 “After that I went to play with him every so often, sometimes playing a few pranks so he would stop ignoring me. He absolutely hated me when we first started, but I like to think I grew on him,” the Witch Boy gave a smirk at the memory, still not noticing the silence in the shuttle.

 She could feel Hal’s eyes on them, incredulity practically oozing from his seat in front of her. Instead of meeting the Green Lanterns with one that was sure to match, she looked to J’onn, who had quietly been assessing their guest the whole flight. He had his head cocked as he faced the teen, but nodded when Diana turned. The boy told no lies.

 They might need to reassess this King of the Dead’s threat level.

~~~~~

   A cacophony of cheers resound in the courtyard of Pariah’s Keep, now renamed officially to Phantom’s Fortress with the crowning of the new king. Danny peered out from beyond the curtain to the courtyard, his ascendance ceremony freshly ended and a crown of arora and ice twirling lazily over his snow white hair.

 “I still can’t believe this many ghosts want me on the throne… I thought everyone hated me with the way I chase them out of Amity all the time…” He marveled to himself, still not quite believing what just happened. He was a King now. He had people to rule. And they actually liked him.

 Though with the reputation of the last king, he supposed that a potato could’ve taken the throne and they would’ve been happy.

 “Is it that hard to believe that maybe you aren’t that hard to like?” A voice jokes from behind the new king, and turning from his peeping spot he couldn’t help the grin that spread. Klarion was standing not too far behind him, one arm behind his back in the clothes they picked out together. He looked good, like he belonged in this century now, and even with his posture radiating nervous energy, Danny could tell he was a lot more comfortable in a t-shirt and jeans than that stuffy puritan suit.

 “I was thinking those odds were in-phantasmal, but I guess the chance was higher than I thought. I’m glad you could make it.” His smile grew slightly at the pink tint to the Witch Boy’s ears, but he went against the thought of pointing out how cute it was.

 Klarion scoffed, as though the notion of not coming was even something that crossed his mind. “As a lord of chaos, it would be remiss of me to not show up for the coronation of a potential fellow lord. Besides, you asked me to come specifically, it would be impolite to refuse.”

 Danny gave a snort at the response, he knew very well that if the other teen didn’t want to be here he would’ve refused the invitation outright. It was nice not having to fight the other anymore, after the battle with Vortex they started fighting less and hanging out more, Danny could even take him to the mall now without a struggle. Sure, Klarion was still trapped in the past with his underground village, but slowly he was starting to relax, have some fun that didn’t destroy everything around him.

 It was nice to hang out with someone he didn’t have to hold back with.

 “So, is there a reason you’re just standing there awkwardly?” Danny asked, letting a chuckle escape at the flat stare he received. A year ago he would’ve gotten a magic blast to the face for that.

 Instead Klarion sighed, eyes glancing around the ornate hall before sighing again. “I figured- I mean- I- ugh…” the Witch Boy kept stuttering before petering off into a grumble. Danny accidentally let another chuckle escape at how cute the other teen was being, causing said teen to glare a hole into the carpet, before letting out a growl. He stomped up to Danny, so close he had to back up a step or they would be in each other's personal space, and suddenly his vision was full of orange and purple with a spatter of red.

 Another step back put the colours in focus. A bouquet of flowers was being thrust towards him by a furiously blushing Klarion, whose eyes were currently on a rather interesting vase.

 “What are these for?” Danny asked as he relieved the bouquet from the others' vice grip.

 “For you, to congratulate you on becoming king. The orange ones are lilies, the purple flowers are irises and gerberas, and the little red ones are bloody williams. The lady at the store said they say “I’m happy for your success” in flower language.” Klarion looked like he was ready to say more, he probably had a whole speech about these, but Danny just couldn’t get over the fact that one of the biggest (previous) pains in his ass just started blushing and gave him flowers.

 “Thank you,” he said, cutting off whatever Klarion was rambling about with a genuine smile. Klarion stared for a second, before blinking and clearing his throat.

 “Of course,” he replied, blush spreading all the way down his neck.

~~~~~

   The Javelin touched down a ways off of a squat white building. It was rather nondescript, save for the perimeter fencing circling the compound lined with guards.

 “This is the place?” Batman asked tersely as they disembarked the plane. None of the armed men had seen them yet, it would give them the advantage in the infiltration.

 “I wouldn’t lie to you about something so important,” the Witch Boy replied, narrowing his eyes at the compound before them. He could feel Danny in there, the strange mix of life and death energies radiating off the half-ghost was an ever present comfort to the Witch boy by now, and he was especially glad for it now.

 He wouldn’t have been able to find him so quickly without it.

 “I sense something heavy in the compound,” Manhunter noted with a frown.

 Batman, ever the detective, wanted to know more, “Elaborate.”

 The martian’s face twisted as he focused, reaching out with his mind to better read the heavy -no, oppressive- cloud that covered the compound, before gasping, recognition and anguish passing over as he physically recoiled. Green Lantern was there to steady him by the shoulders before he could so much as stumble.

 “What did you feel?” The Dark Knight compelled once it was clear there were no lasting effects of his reaching out.

 “Pain,” he replied shakily. “So much pain and suffering, hanging over the building like a fog. It is unnaturally powerful, if I hadn’t known beforehand, I would assume an entire city was under attack and not a single building.”

 The Dark Knight said nothing, simply taking what was said to heart. He moved forward with purpose, but before he could get too far a hand held him back. “Wait.”

 Batman looked down at the chaos mage, a single hand splayed out over his chest. “You need to know some things before I take you in there.”

 The  miniscule tilt of the taller man’s cowl was all Klarion needed to continue. “The facility is phase proof, the martian won’t be able to density shift through the walls, and the nature of their weapons are similar to Green Lantern’s constructs. You won’t get hurt badly if they hit you, but I’ve been told they burn.” All vital things to know. Batman's strategy would have to account for this, but he could still sense something from the teen, and so kept quiet.

 “And when we find Phantom? Get every agent you can out of there. He doesn’t like senseless killing, but I will not leave that building standing.”

 Batman gave a single nod, and with that Klarion enveloped the five in the red mist of his magic.

 ∆•∆•∆•∆

 The plan was rather simple, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern were to be dropped off at the entrance to the building as a distraction and to round up the agents while Klarion, Manhunter and Batman were to use Klarion’s magic to infiltrate and locate the King. Klarion’s mist acted as a memetic, letting the gaze of the agents fall past them on their way through the building as they ran deeper to where he could feel Danny. They had to be careful to not touch anyone though, as the moment they did they would be able to see them.

 “Why can’t you teleport us in?” Baman asked as they rounded another stark white corner into another stark white hall.

 “Death energies, do strange things to magic,” Klarion panted his reply. He was not used to actually running, and he couldn’t figure out why some humans actually liked doing the activity. “With so much, charged death and ectoplasm in the air, better to not cause an explosion. So soon.”

 Another swerve and he could feel Danny more, could almost taste that distinct flavour of citrus and menthol, the strange combination of ectoplasm and life that surrounded his ghost. The smell of citrus was strong though, and Klarion was desperately hoping he wasn’t too late with this rescue. The first real good thing he tries to do and he ends up a moment too late.

 “The source of the pain is drawing nearer,” Manhunter informs them as they pass a windowed room. Batman breaks off to take a look inside, calling to the other two to keep going. Klarion never stopped.

 One more corner and the acidic sour smell of citrus was assaulting their noses, and they started passing doors more resembling operating room entrances than offices. Lights were still on over a few as they passed, and Klarion made sure to snake a coil of mist into those that did, leaving screams and indistinct, cut off pleas in their wake. Those ones especially could rot in hell for all he cared, the smell of everdeath roiled off those rooms, alluding to whatever horrors might have been performed in them. He knew only a fraction of the ectoplasm spilt in there was from the one he cherished, but that made them no less guilty.

 The final turn led them to a hall lined with a different type of door, these ones steel grey tinted green. Klarion loathed to see the colours he associated with his spirit used in a mockery against him, keeping Danny away from him. He stalked down, using his magic to blow every door off its hinges as he passed until he hit the one his beloved was in. Turning to face it, he held up his hand, willing his magic to grasp it and tear it from the wall, throwing it down the hall and uncaring what was in the way.

 Emotion charged ectoplasm rolled out of the small cell, settling around their feet like fog and weakly intermingling with klarion’s magic.

 The sight made the mage want to puke. And weep. And decimate this measly world that would dare touch his soul like this.

 Were it not for the Martian's presence he just might have.

 Danny was there, shackled to the wall with chains at his wrists and ankles, head weighed heavy by the collar around his neck and the fucking muzzle on his face. The ghost made no move to the light that now filtered into the space, he hung limply from his chains, lifelessly. Only the faint glow around Danny’s frame gave away that he was not yet truly ended.

 But the green.

 A shaky breath from behind the mage reminded him where he was, and he urgently entered the room. He went to work on the manacles, seemingly seamless, but with one whispered word they were releasing Danny into his arms.

 “Is he?..” The martian started, too afraid to finish the sentence lest it become a reality.

 “No,” Klarion breathed out shakily. “No he’s still… He’ll recover.” He has to.

 “He’s so young,” Manhunter observed with a pained face as Klarion lowered to the floor of the cell, turning the ghost so he could hold him by the shoulders while he worked on getting his ankles freed.

 “He was even younger when he started,” with Danny's ankles freed, all that was left was the inhibitor collar and that damned muzzle. He did away with the muzzle first, desperate to see his cherished spirit's face. No magic was needed for it, thankfully, just a simple lock keeping it around the halfa’s face. Klarion gingerly removed the offending device, tossing it at a wall and making a note of obliterating it before he left. There were already chafe marks around Danny’s cheeks and on his nose, green and nearly raw from it pressing his jaw shut.

 How long has he been here for them to look so raw?

 Klarion had only been away for two months at the most, off on some insignificant errand after finding the piece of an artifact drifting in the Realms. Insignificant because apparently while he was away, his cherished one had gotten captured trying to save one of his people from this moronic group. When he had finally returned, he had to be informed about his capture. The rage he felt then… He hopes Danny wouldn’t be too mad at him for the damage he caused to the Fortress.

 A breathy groan followed by a sharp intake of breath and subsequent coughing brought Klarion out of his what if spiral. Danny was waking up, bleary eyed and confused at first -no doubt concerning his orientation- but a few seconds after the couches settled green eyes focused on black.

 “Hey, Rion,” the ghost king gave a small watery smile. “Glad you could finally make it. How was  your adventure?”

 “Stupid ghost-” Klarion has to reel back the power he was putting behind his voice with a breath that came out more like a sob. “Do you know how worried I was when you weren’t in Amity? In the Fortress? I was away for two damn months and you almost got yourself ended Danny!”

 Danny gave a chuckle that teetered into more of a cough as he weakly wiggled in Klarions lap. “They tried to grab Lunch Lady and Boxed Lunch, what was I supposed to do? It's my job as king to keep them safe-”

“NOT AT YOUR OWN EXPENSE YOU MORON!”

 The outburst silenced the ghost with a small snap of his jaw, followed by a cut off groan at the soreness from its disuse. A light cough broke the tense silence, and Danny sat up slightly to see what made it, eyes immediately sharp with alertness for any possible danger. His eyes landed on Martian Manhunter and that sharpness melted away to confusion.

 “Is that- why- Am I dreaming?” He stuttered, looking between the Justice leaguer and his lover. “Did I pass out so hard I’m actually dreaming my boyfriend came to save me with Martian Manhunter right now? Someone pinch me.” Klarion obliged the request and Danny yelped in pain. “Yep, okay, not a dream. Cool,” He whimpered, eyes now glued to the martian.

 Klarion went back to the task of freeing the ghost from his restraints, but hesitated before taking the collar off. “Do you have enough power to stay in this form if I take this off you?” He asked cautiously.

 Danny looked down, trying to see the band of metal around his neck, but quickly gave up with a sigh. “Probably not, it's taking most of my energy just to stay awake and talk right now.” He looked ashamed to say it, but Klarion was relieved to get a straight answer about his condition for once.

 “I’ll leave it on until we get you somewhere safe then,” Klarion whispered before readjusting his hands and standing up with the ghost boy bridal-style. The energy must have been draining from his cherished, as he only jolted at the movement. He could see Danny's eyes getting heavy, his head pitching forward before righting itself a few more times.

 “You’ll be there when I wake up… Right?” The Ghost boy asked, voice slurring with the effort to remain conscious. Klarion nodded once as he kissed the ghost's forehead -warmer than it should be- and walked back out of the cell. “Of course, my spirit. Rest.”

 One more wobbly nod and the ghost’s eyes closed. Klarion straightened, reigniting his magic with the help of Teekl and pushing it to blow the rest of the cell doors off their hinges. A few other ghosts floated out, and Manhunter helped a few more into the hall. They left slowly, with magical fire crackling in the prison that once held his spirit, catching the ectoplasm alight as the Witch Boy’s face contorted.

 ∆•∆•∆•∆

 The trip back to the Javelin was shorter than the trip into the facility, without the need to be covert they were able to retrace their steps through the building at a much faster pace. Batman regrouped with them just before the exit, and out in the grounds Green Lantern and Wonder Woman had done a great job of distracting and subduing most of the agents. One of them must have gone in and rounded up the scientists too, because they were tied up in a neat little pile a ways off.

 Good, he could burn this place to the ground without worry then.

 Klarion didn’t stop his stride out the compound as his magic spread to lick the walls, fire sparking to life where it touched. He didn’t stop to watch as the fire spread up the walls unnaturally fast, as it spread into the building through the holes it was melting in the reinforced glass. He didn’t pause when an explosion hit the air, the fire most likely finding the medical wing or the weapons vault.

 Klarion only stopped once Danny was securely in the small medbay of the Javelin, held securely in place for takeoff.

~~~~~

   Danny came to slowly, letting the ectoplasm of the Ghost Zone fill his lungs as he breathed deeply… Wait. Ectoplasm? Ghost Zone?? Lungs???

 Screw waking up slowly, Danny bolted up from wherever he was sleeping… and immediately regretted it. A massive headache assaulted his senses, along with about a dozen other aches and pains from his capture, most notably his jaw and starving stomach. Still, assessing the situation came before anything else, so he tried to make himself vertical despite his body's protests. Until a hand on his chest stopped him.

 Klarion met his bleary eyed confusion with a stern stare. He pushed down once more and this time Danny didn’t protest the movement. “It wasn’t a dream?” Danny croaked out, only a little bit surprised at how dry his voice sounded.

 “No it wasn’t a dream,” Klarion replied softly as he pressed a straw to Danny's lips. He was grateful for the first full drink of water he’d gotten in… he doesn't remember how long.

 “And Martian Manhinter? Was he real too then?” Danny asked when his throat no longer felt like sandpaper. Klarion hummed an affirmative as he put the cup back on the nightstand, idly stroking Teelke with his offhand. He takes a second to process that before he nearly bolts up again, startling the familiar and mage alike.

 “Is the Justice League here‽‽”

 A pregnant pause followed the exclamation before the Witch Boy gave a snort, snickering to avoid outright laughing at the bedridden ghost. “No, I left the little humans to fly back to their clubhouse while I took you back to the Realms with a portal.”

 Deflating with the explanation, Danny’s eyes travelled the embroidered constellations on the canopy of his bed, finally relaxing enough to appreciate where he was. Home. He took another deep breath, feeling his ectoplasm replenish itself more than it had in the last month in the GIW facility. The ectoplasm combined with the pine and fire smell of the mage sitting beside him only enforced the fact that he wasn’t there anymore. Tears threatened to fall with that thought.

 His boyfriend came for him. He didn’t doubt he would, but the days passed along and he was starting to lose hope. But not only did Rion come for him, he brought the Justice League, a group he knows Rion has beef with. Traitorously, a tear managed to escape and roll down into his hair.

 “You know, I’ll have to go talk to the League now that you’ve told them about me,” Danny commented, desperate to get out of those thoughts and ignoring the way his voice wobbled.

 “I’m sure you will,” Rion replied, no doubt with a roll of his eyes. “But you need to heal first. You’re in no shape to go talk to a bunch of stupid humans right now.”

 Danny gave a snort, “Those ‘stupid humans’ helped you get me back, right? Maybe drop the stupid when we see them next.”

 Rion only grunted in reply, and so they lapsed into silence again. Danny felt sleep pulling at his mind again, now that he knew he was truly safe with his beloved mage beside him. He didn't fight it for long, but he needed to say one more thing before he truly allowed himself to start healing.

 “Rion,” he mumbled out, getting the attention of the mage with a hum. “Thanks for coming to get me, love you.”

 A rare kind of smile passed the pale teen’s lips then, soft and kind. “I love you too, Danny.”

[silversweetpea]

Stitched Up

Word Count: 4422

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: The Devil get cold too sometimes, and it seems a shame to toss out perfectly good fabric...

Warnings: Offscreen violence heavily implied, Reader has a panic attack at one point in the story but Matt talks them through it. 

Author’s Note: Hello, welcome back to Petal being self indulgent with their writing again lmao. I’m a sucker for five and one stories and that’s pretty evident from the structure of this guy (although technically it’d be better called three and one but semantics). I also have no idea how fashion college degrees work so please excuse that I just wanted an excuse to write about giving our guy a gift.

❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿ ❀✿❀✿

“I’m not afraid of you,” Your voice doesn’t shake, which is the part that scares you more than the man in front of you.

“You should be,” The devil of hells kitchen responds.

He’s beaten and bloody and bruised beneath the suit. you can see cuts in the fabric from whatever the beginning of the night held for him. Still, despite his presentation. you know him as much as any other resident does. There's a reason the man who had tried to corner you had dropped his gun and ran when the horned shadow stretched over the alleyway and there's a reason you stayed besides the shock.

Daredevil doesn’t hold back against criminals, but you’re just a civilian on their way home from your friend’s house.

“Thank you," Your hands tremble but you try to convince yourself its from the biting autumn wind. The Devil barely nodded before moving to leave. There’s an interesting dichotomy in your head as the part of you that remembers your test in the morning and stranger danger rules screams at the top of its lungs to hurry home where you can hide under the blankets and call your friends. It had been a while since you caught up with each other’s lives, hadn’t it? Wouldn’t a friendly voice be good to hear right now?

“You can thank me by getting off the street,” it’s a gruff response but not particularly unkind and it only fuels the whispering voice that urges you after him. 

You can’t help but blame that whisper for the fleeting idea that he has a nice voice as well as the way that your feet follow him. Your eyes drifted to the red suit and the nasty gashes in the fabric as he walked along the sidewalk. You wondered for just a second what the pair of you must look like, you laden with bags of fabric and shoes to repair and the devil of hell's kitchen desperately trying to speed walk away from you.

“Do you have someone who can stitch up your suit?” The vigilante didn’t stop  but he did visibly roll his shoulders in frustration at your continued presence. You couldn’t be sure why he didn’t just scale another building like the one that he had dropped down from, but if you were a gambler you would put money on the gashes along his back and arms.

“What?” 

“Your suit. It doesn’t look like it’s made of the best material,” Words spill out like an unmanned faucet left to run, nerves had always made you more chatty. “I mean it looks good on you don’t get me wrong but I was just going to say that I could stitch it up for you, if you wanted.”

Your face feels warm when he finally does stop and the gruffness has more bite this time. 

“Go home.”

Your feet feel rooted to the cement as you watch him go. It only takes a minute or two for him to disppear down an alley way but it feels longer given how much time you spend standing in the dim lighting of the street lamps. 

The shock of the night lingers long enough to make it hard to remember how you got home, and you blame the paranoia you experience the rest of the night on being shaken up as well. You had no reason to believe that there were eyes on your back the whole way home, after all. 

And the next morning, finding yourself on the couch surrounded by sketches of hypothetical potential winter appropriate superhero suits for hypothetical heroes and your favorite show on the telelvision where you had left the reruns the night before, you tried to put it out of your mind. You had known the risks of living alone in Hell’s Kitchen, and it had been just another day hadn’t it?

The whisper doesn’t agree. Your classes push forward but your free time is spent prototyping jackets. Fashion had always meant to be fun, it was your passion and your way of expression, so focusing on practicality was a bit harder than you were expecting. The Devil is still active, you hear the reports in the morning on the news just as loudly as the rumors on the street. Your friends ask if you want to move in with them and you think of a man’s back covered in gashes and rips when you say no.

Early fall grows late by the time you see him next. Leaves that had just barely been dusted with color now dripped with it in piles on the ground beneath the empty trees. One of which was where you had caught sight of him, perched in the bare branches like a strange bird native only to the kitchen. His black suit had been swapped out for a simpler black you recognized from blurry photos online. It’s not as flashing and the material looks worse for the wear but you know its him nonetheless. 

Not only because of the wrappings on his hands or the way he held so eerily still, but because you knew by now that no other hero was brave enough to stick their nose into his territory.

Your backpack feels heavier than it had when you left this morning as you stood there. You had packed it for a reason, just like you had spent all that time on prototypes for a reason, but the thought of handing over your work to someone never became less daunting.

“Go home,” You jump nearly a foot in the air at the words. The night had been so quiet - or at least as quiet as Hells Kitchen ever was - that the sudden noise felt deafening. In between your thundering heartbeat though you can hear that his voice is thick with annoyance, but thicker still with exhaustion. 

“You said that last time too,” Daredevil sighs but doesn’t leave when you take your bag off and begin to root through it. “Why did you switch your suit?”

“Do you expect me to answer that?”

“I was kinda hoping you would, yeah.” The man doesn't respond verbally this time, just drops from the tree with a solid thud and begins walking off. It takes all of two seconds before you’re able to swallow your nerves and chase after but the distance between the two of you feels like it’s been way longer than that. “Wait, wait I’m sorry. I’m not good small talk.”

“If I wanted small talk I’d head to queens.” The lights of the neon signs and smoke make him look like someone out of a comic book. You wonder what you look like to him but you can’t focus too much on that train of thought without loosing your nerve completely. 

“Right, sorry. I just,” There’s bile rising at the back of your throat from the way that he’s looking at you. Or you assumed he was at least, his eyes were still just as covered as they were in his usual suit. “well I have something for you.”

He finally stops and you nearly run into him given that you’re so focused on trying to catch up. The jacket in your hands suddenly feels littered with mistakes and there’s a distinct screaming to try and shove it back in the bag and tell him it was all a lie. Daredevil doesn’t move from his spot but he does turn around and even in the dark and the limitations of his suit you can read his confusion clearly.

“Its getting cold out and I don’t know how thick the fabric of your suit is so I made you a coat. There’s no tracking or anything in it if you’re worried about that, I’m not good enough with tech for that sort of thing.” It had occurred to you as you were working on it that he may have said no to you repairing his suit because he was worried about his secret identity. Your hand shakes thinking that he may not accept this offering due to similar reasons.

“You made me a coat.” The Devil’s voice isn’t as harsh as it has been, almost like you’d surprised him enough to break his version of a customer service voice. It fills you with just enough warmth to take another step forward and force the jacket into his hand before you can back out and run home.

“Yeah. It’s not the most fashionable but it’s pretty streamline because that seemed kind of important to being able to fight and there’s lots of pockets because those seemed handy. I don’t know how well you can see in there but it’s just black with red detailing. I didn’t want to get the wrong shade of red and have it clash too much and-” You hadn’t realized that you were speaking as fast as you were until you had to stop to take a breath. His posture is just as stiff but his hands are gently exploring the feel of the fabric in a way that makes you feel like you did something right. “I’m sorry. You don’t really need to know all that it’s just that, uhm, well I talk when I’m nervous.”

Daredevil doesn’t comment on why you would be nervous and that alone makes you think that he has more mercy than many would consider. The silence lingers for a moment or two longer before he clears his throat and speaks again.

“Thank you.” For the first time he sounds kind, his lips don’t quite reach a smile but there isn’t the harsh set to them that there was at the beginning of your conversation. 

“No problem.” The words sound breathless because they are. Your lungs suddenly can’t quite fill all the way up with the smoke heavy air and when he slowly slips into the jacket they loose all their air completely. “It looks good on you.”

That one gets a smile and it’s brighter than any of the signs around you. 

“It’s late. You should get going.” He’s still smiling, still wearing a jacket with your label on the inside collar, even as he ushers you off into the night again. The weeks of sewing and scrapped patterns and pricked finger tips suddenly doesn’t seem like that bad of a price to pay to burn the image of his mouth into your brain.

“Yeah, Goodnight.”

You leave first this time, giddy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. The walk is shorter than it’s ever been and you all but fall into your bed when you reach you apartment. 

When you check twitter the next morning there’s a single, dark photo of him mid jump from someone trying to ask about his ‘new costume’ and you’re quick to save it to your phone. 

It’s still there the next time you see him. It’s later than you’d like but three run ins with the devil of hells kitchen is three more than most people would get. 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” His hand is on your arm but you can barely feel it. Everything around you is spinning, your fist clenched tightly around the taser that you had sworn you would never need to use. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

You can hear him, you know you can, but it’s hard to focus on what he’s actually saying. 

“Of course,” the words are as solid as any other you could have said but the grip on your arm tightens just barely. You’re not looking at him though, eyes still locked on the brick wall across the alley from you. You hadn’t picked this alley to hide in while Daredevil took care of the would be assaulters, whatever that had meant when he left you here to catch your breath. If you had, you’re not sure if you would have picked one that had a graffiti work of an angel and a devil looming over you.

“You should sit down, you’re in shock.” There’s a pull, not hard enough that you can’t pull away from it yourself, but enough that you know the Devil is trying to get you to sit. Your eyes still don’t leave the mural on the bricks, you know the ground is wet though with this morning’s rain. 

“I’d rather not. New pants. Dirty alley way.” Was it normal to feel guilty for self preservation? You didn’t know what would have happened had you not lashed out to protect yourself, you could say that with certainty, but the way the man had dropped to the ground-

“I’ll pay the dry cleaning bill, sit down.” When he pulls you this time, you allow yourself to sit. There’s cars in the distance that you can hear honking from and somewhere nearby there’s the sound of music. Daredevil is crouched next to you, arm still in his grasp, when you realize that he’s in the same position of the winged being behind him. His colors are different and the angel doesn’t have horns, but the hold and the concern in the way they both lean towards their companion are identical.

“Did the coat work?” You ask after a minute. Anything to stop the line of thought in your head. 

“Yeah, it’s great. My friends keep asking me where I got it so they can get one.” Your smile feels watery and weak but its there and he must see it through his mask given the way that his hold loosens on your arm before finally dropping. As if he’s no longer afraid that you’re going to drift away without something to ground you.

“I’m really glad. I hadn’t seen photos of you wearing it in a while so I just kinda assumed it wasn’t warm enough.” The mention of photos should make you embarrassed, and surely when you think back on the situation tomorrow you’re sure it will. Right now though you’re just focused on the way that he smiles again, almost laughs, like the thought of you looking for paparazzi photos of him is funny to him. 

“I was in a bit of a rush to get to work one day and grabbed it without thinking. Figured it might raise too many eyebrows if I kept wearing it on patrol after that.” It’s more information than he’d ever given you before and for good reason. Still, having that sliver of information feels like finding your favorite hoodie fresh from the wash. It’s something to clutch to your chest and carry with you. 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” This time he does laugh, a short sound but one that you think would make a wonderful ringtone for your phone. It makes you finally understand why artists sample their loved ones’ voices in songs, you want the whole world to hear Daredevil’s laugh and know that he’s not all that bad. 

“You’re a bit odd,” It’s not wrong exactly but something about the way he says it makes you want to bury your head in your hands and scream out laughing at the same time. You settle for something in between and rest your head on your arms which rest on top of your knees. Face not quite hidden yet but only a moment away from doing so if the need arises. 

“You’re the one in a costume.” Daredevil doesn’t laugh again but his smile is still so bright it makes your eyes water. 

“You’ve got me there.” His voice is quiet, soothing. Your pants are wet from the pavement and you can feel the chill seeping in through the fabric but you can’t quit bare the thought of getting up yet. 

“Thank you for staying.” If you asked to hold his hand would he laugh at you? Would that be crossing a line?

“Yeah, well, I figured if I left you’d make me another coat.” It’s nice to be teased, taser heavy in your pocket but not your hand. It’s nice to have someone talk with you as if you hadn’t just hurt someone else for the first time.

“You’re right and now I’m gong to have to make you two new coats.” It’s nice to tease him back as if he’s just another friend and not a vigilante. It’s nice to pretend that you’re arguing over how many christmas presents to get each other this year.

“How about just a hat, hard to find ones with holes for the horns.” You’re pretty sure he’s trying to make you laugh again but you’re too focused thinking on how silly that must look. 

“Two hats and a scarf?” He could make christmas cards out of the papparazi photos, especially if you went with a green color scheme. 

“One hat and a set of mittens.” The devil holds out his hand and you hum for just a moment, letting it stand before taking his hand in yours again. It’s warm and you try not to think about how well the two of you fit together. 

“Deal.” Even after a gentle shake you don’t let go and your friend, you think at least, pulls you to your feet. 

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

That’s the last time you see him for a while. Your fault, you know, you don’t walk much after dark anymore and Daredevil never seems to be active during the day. Weeks go by and finals begin to loom just as snow begins to fall. The approved hat and mittens and unapproved scarf you decided to make with the leftover fabric sit untouched in tissue paper in your bag.

You think, most days, that perhaps that would be the last of it. That you had had your three times to befriend him or learn more about him and you had blown it with panic attacks and nervous rambling. And then one of your friends asked you to deliver a package for her on a day off. 

The building was small and definitely had seen some better days, but at least it was shelter from the bitterly cold wind. All you wanted was to drop the suit off, call Jasmine to remind her to bring the doughnuts you liked from the campus bakery when she finished classes for the day, and curl up with a silly feel good movie and your phone. 

In fact you’re so busy mentally picking out what pajamas you’re going to change into when you get home that you almost miss it completely when you walk in.

“Hi I’m looking fo-” your voice catches in your throat when you see it. There’s a woman at the desk, probably the one you’ve been sent to find, but there’s also a man standing next to her. 

It’s not his neat shirt and pants that catch your attention or his dark hair and indoor sunglasses. It’s not the white cane he’s leaning on or the familiar tilt of his lips as he talks to the woman next to him. It’s the fact that he’s wearing the jacket you stitched together.

“Hello?” It takes far too long to realize the greeting is directed towards you and when you do you can feel the warmth that gathers in your face as you clear your throat.

“Hi, sorry, uhm, I have a package for Ms. Page? It’s from Jasmine if that helps jog your memory at all.”

“Oh! I wasn’t expecting you until later! Thank you!” Her smile is warm and friendly, and you feel bad that you don’t want to look at it. Not when the man is suddenly standing stock still and the smile has slipped from his lips. 

“It’s no problem, really. She wanted me to let you know that if there’s any issue with the inseam to just give her a call she couldn’t remember whether you two had decided to round up or down on the decimal.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, thank you. I’m Karen,”

“(Y/n),” she blinked and looked at the man behind her briefly before shaking her head with a polite laugh.

“You wouldn’t happen to make jackets would you?”

“I’m back and I bring coffee!”

“I should go, I have a couple other things to drop off before I can head home and that cold is killer.” You don’t linger long enough to even introduce yourself to new man in the doorway or say goodbye to Karen, too afraid of tipping your hand too much. 

You weren’t lying about one thing at least, the cold is killer especially as you sit on a bench half a block away trying to adjust to the potential bombshell you just had dropped in your lap.

“You never sent me your dry cleaning bill.” You know who it is before you turn around. Your heartrate doubles, the organ working overtime at the thought that you had messed up somehow.

He's smiling when you turn around. It's the same one he gave you in the alley and yet it feels brand new. There's snow landing in his hair and spotting his coat, your coat.

“You didn’t need to follow me I’m not going to tell anyone.” It takes longer than you would have liked to answer and for the first time when talking to Daredevil you sound afraid. You are though, not of him, never of him, but of the embaressment of being scared of the dark? Or the potential questioning of how you found him? Hell even the idea of having slipped up and spilled too many clues somehow and Karen had been able to grill him for information afterwards was a nightmare.

The man's brow furrows just a touch, head tilted ever so slightly as the smile slips into something more confused.

“That’s-” He cuts himself off with a small clearing of his throat. Daredevil's posture shifts slightly and you notice the cane in his hands again. It looks startlingly similar to the cane you had seen people with visual imparements use. “Good to know.”

“Really. I couldn’t tell people if I wanted to, I don’t know if you’re Nelson or Murdock or just some random client that walked in looking for counsel.” The smile is gone completely now, even as he nods. Still he raises a hand to gesture to the bench you're on.

“Can I?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!" It's almost a certainty that you sound incompetent as you shuffle sideways on the bench. You almost wished he was in costume again, at least that way while you would be nervous you wouldn't have to know he was cute while you embaressed yourself.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” His voice is soft around the edges, a verbal olive branch woven into a basket in which you can put as much trust as you'd like.

Unfortunately you'd already placed all your trust in the pockets of the jacket he wore, had it sewn into the lining.

“What?” Daredevil sighs, his fingers tapping on the cane in front of him.

“I can tell you're nervous," The man's voice is still carefully slow. Each word sounds purposeful and careful as it leaves his lips.

"Yeah, I'm nervous but not because i think you'll hurt me! I would never think that!" He seems unconvinced, but more so there's a sense of uncertainty. It sounds silly, everyone feared the Devil even other heroes. When you thought of him there should be a shiver down your spine and a quicker beat to your steps. You can't bring yourself to be afraid though, at least not more so than you are of any other hero. In fact if you had to choose between talking with him and talking with any of the other locals you'd choose Daredevil in an instant. None of the others had helped you or your loved ones in the dark corner of the city they pretended didnt exist. None of them had laughed with you or walked you home when you were scared. "Really, I'm just nervous because I didn't want you to think I was stalking you or anything."

It's true enough for some of the tension to leave his posture though and that feels like a victory worth celebrating regardless of the unspoken parts of your confession. The pair of you sit in quiet for a moment and you try not to stare at him too hard.

You're pretty sure you're failing though. It's too hard to look away when his expressions are so emotive. You didn't think that seeing his cheeks or forehead would influence how easy it is to read him but it's like looking at a whole new person.

“It’s Murdock.” There's a pretty good chance you jump when he speaks, especially since the smile comes back to him so fast.

“I'm sorry?"

“You said you didn’t know if I was Nelson or Murdock. I’m Murdock. Most people call me Matt though.” Matt. It fits him nicely. “Nelson was the guy with coffee you brushed past who is, by the way, now convinced you’re an ex I never told him about.”

The nervous laughter comes before you can stop it, but when you bury your face in your hands you can hear him give a small laugh of his own.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” the laughter doesn't stop when you look at him, face burning with heat you're trying desperately to hide despite being equally as desperate to see him and know what he's thinking about the matter.

“Admitting guilt isn’t usually something people do with lawyers.” The tease is enough to force your gaze back into your fingers. It was strange how open he was without the suit, how much kinder he was. "You should probably be heading home.”

“You’re always trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?” it's hard to tease Matt back when you're still flustered yourself but it's worth the effort to see the boyish grin.

“It’s cold out," There's a pause and in it you can hear an almost laugh slip out again. "And now that you know where to find me maybe you’ll come back with my mittens.”

Your heart skips at the proposition.

“Would you be okay with that?” it's hard to talk around the frog in your throat, almost convinced he's just joking still.

“Well, it might be easier to convince Foggy that you’re not my ex if you’re also there.” Matt hasn't turned towards you but you still feel like the center of the world when he tips his head in your direction. “Maybe not though.”

[venigni]

The current color of Gemini's lamp reflects his mood!

Yellow: Default (Easygoing/Chatty)

Green: Jealous/Annoyed

Blue: Sad

Purple: Scared/Surprised

Pink: Aroused/Amorous

Red: Angry/Danger Alert!

Orange: Very Happy!

[augustinewrites]

45 with suna pls 🙏🙏

45. "we shouldn't do this" but they do so anyway

there’s a random reality show playing when someone knocks on your hotel room door.

you ignore it, at first. it’s 11pm, an hour past the team’s scheduled lights out. you’re already comfy, having showered off a weekend of back to back matches and bundled under the comforters. whoever needs you can grab an ice pack and wait till morning.

but whoever it is knocks again, a little more insistently this time. rolling out of bed to grab your hoodie before padding over to peer through the peephole. you roll your eyes when you see who it is, and rin’s leaning against the doorframe, grinning down at you as you open the door. his cheeks are flushed, shirt untucked, and his hair slightly unkempt. the faint scent of booze tells your he’s been drinking, yet his gaze remains steady and fixed on you.

your heart flutters, and you turn away, hoping to hide the blush creeping up your neck.

“i knew you’d still be up.”

“i was about to head to bed, actually.”

rin scoffs at that. “doubt that. mind if i come in?”

he’s not really asking for permission, brushing past you before you can reply, flicking on the lamp and kicking off his shoes before making himself comfortable at the foot of your bed.

“what are you doing here, rin?” you ask, shutting the door behind him before joining him on the bed.

“you mean you weren’t expecting me?” he teases. “don’t play coy, babe, i think we’re past that.”

it wasn’t entirely unusual for him to come to your room during out of town games. though usually he came under the guise of minor medical attention. like stiffness in his neck or a problem with his shoulder.

what never changed is that he always stayed after, lingering for as long as he could before lights out. you’re not sure why he did that, but you weren’t exactly complaining either. you enjoyed talking to him. the two of you talked about real shit, going back and forth for hours about politics and feminism and all the other isms you couldn’t name at the moment.

“well, you seem medically fine, if not slightly intoxicated,” you tell him.

rin sighs deeply, dramatically, before flopping back into your bed to stare at the ceiling. “well i’m not.”

so you lay next to him, the two of you rolling over so you’re face to face.

“cause see, there’s this girl.”

that was…not what you were expecting. but rin’s always been a chatty drunk. “oh?”

“yeah,” he nods. “but i don’t think she knows how much i like her.”

“do i know her?” you ask, heart aching as you file through a list of names in your head, shifting away from him. “if you like her, you should just tell her. no use in keeping it a—”

“it’s you, idiot,” he huffs, catching your wrist. it takes your brain a moment to catch up as he gently presses his lips to your palm. “i’m trying to tell you i like you.”

the relief that washes over you is instant. “you like me?”

“with all my heart,” he grins, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you close.

you can’t help but wrinkle your nose. “that’s so sappy.”

“ah, you love it,” he whispers, gaze flicking to your lips.

“rin,” you warn. “we shouldn’t. motoya’s going to wonder where you are if you’re not back in your room—”

he kisses you to shut you up, and you relent, giggling against his lips and gently kissing him back.

[gumilac]

"thank you..."

MEGUMI smiles as he pays for your books, handing his card to the cashier, as soon as the worker got it to punch the books, he faces you and pats your head affectionately.

"you're welcome."

feeling shy because you asked and wanted these, you shuffled closer to him and poked his arm. fidgeting with your fingers, you smile up at the cashier who was observing you both as he hands back megumi's card. he packages it up nicely in a bag and hands it to you, muttering a small thank you. to which you return.

megumi nods his head at the worker, and wraps his arms around your shoulder, turning around to walk out the store.

"thank you again," you mutter once you step out the book shop. looking up at him, he smiles and megumi kisses your forehead before squeezing your arm.

"anything for you, sweetheart."

humming, you feel shy as you walk up to his car and megumi notices this but makes no comment. he only smiles and kisses your head once you reach his vehicle.

"did you know i bumped into someone?"

"did you?" he asks, placing a hand on your head rest, leaning back to reverse the car.

"mhm hmm, she didn't mean it. we were both clumsy, and i apologized, so did she."

"that's good then," his eyes focused on the road behind him, and looks at you with a smile when he changes the gear to front, "glad nobody was hurt."

you smile, gently patting the paper bag that your books are in. the crinkling of paper ringing in the car, but he does not stop you. he starts driving and you're unable to contain yourself from the word vomit that keeps leaving you.

"i saw a cat, they said those strays are being taken care of by the place."

megumi turns a corner and hums, stopping at a red light. he looks at you, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holds your hand, "really? that way they have collars?"

"yeah, it's pretty nice of them."

"hmm, very." he tilts his head and admires your features, softened by the night light of street lamps. pretty, he thinks. so pretty.

"i remember tripping on the sidewalk when i was young."

he raises his brows, and slowly nods his head, "did it hurt?"

"no, but it was funny because i was walking alone and no one tripped me on purpose."

"typical you," megumi softly laughs, his low voice reverberating in the car. he quiets down and takes a peek at the light. still red.

"oh, they said that every star we see is bigger than the sun," you peek out the window before looking back at megumi again, "did you know?"

he shakes his head and grins, lop-sided, "i did not, no."

"i read it somewhere, i forgot why that is though."

"we can search it when we get home?"

looking up at him, you smile, eyes almost closing from how happy you are because of the books he bought for you, and him just listening.

"we can."

megumi chuckles softly and leans in to place a soft kiss on your cheek. he pulls back, just enough for your noses to touch and cerulean hues peek behind half-lidded eyes as he looks at you.

he loves moments like this, conversations that might seem they aren't entirely significant, but it is to him. they aren't really connected with each other, the topics, but that doesn't matter because he'll listen. talking about nothing and everything, he'll love every bit of it because it's you.

"i love you..."

aki's notes. anyone else get really chatty all of a sudden and shy when they're bought something, or get what they want from someone? bc me, yes so here's a quick, vvv self indulgent bc i got books today hihi >>_<<

[tiffanylamps]

when this happened, i had to pause the episode and out loud, i said, "oh no, i love him"

[opaljm]

lmao another installment of naia being on the same wavelength as bangtan?

although for me jungkook is a genie and the prince of y/n's heart 😌

but i did get the lyrics for the title from the Aladdin songs 🤣

[amity206]

Finally an OC reference for Kiyya! Now I gotta do one for Amity. (In-game they’re only missing the pants and boots)

Read about them below the cut!

Kiyya is a cartographer from the Wind Paths, who explores the Sky Kingdom collecting maps, stories, and memories. Chill, chatty, bold, and occasionally sassy, they tend to overpack and their props include the Passage ocarina, a camera, and Laidback Pioneer’s umbrella. Their goal is to see the entire Sky Kingdom and then whatever lies beyond.

Every now and then they return to their home base in the Wind Paths to unload their pictures, art, and shiny finds. This little cave is an absolute mess because Kiyya is basically a crow hoarding shinies and papers (plus they’re only in the cave like a few days each month). If they have friends over they “organize” by pushing all the floor items to a corner.

Kiyya is also pretty good at mimicking various bird calls and will tinker with darkstone and scrap as a hobby (mostly used to repair their boat, but sometimes they’ll make stuff like study lamps. They aren’t like, great at it but it’s something they enjoy. It also contributes to the mess on the floor.)

[somekindofpoet]

Hey Crush! I love Oh!Dealer & I can’t wait for the 3 pt (admittedly I am very nervous tho) but I was wondering if you had any little headcanons of falling for Vada like small moments of just being completely heart eyes for her maybe something like her calling when she’s drunk/high and just talking about what she’s doing and admitting that she just wanted to talk to you or her picking something up for you like a coffee or something before she comes to meet you

Ooooh okay little excerpts from moments R began to fall for Vada without even realizing it:

The first time Vada tried shrooms, Nick called you to come babysit her. The were supposed to get high and go to a party, but Vada may have overdone it and was now lying facedown in the grass, crying. Feeling guilty for selling them the mushrooms in the first place, you agree. You sit in the park for hours listening to Vada tell you about how she is one with the earth and how sad she is that she can’t live underground. She’s always talkative, but the mushrooms make her incredibly perceptive. You get to peek inside Vada’s mind that day.

Vada’s clumsiness has you smiling to yourself every time you think about it. When you were in school together you would snort when she tripped on her shoelaces and ended up launching herself into the lockers. Or when she’d try to be cool and sit on a desk only for it to become unbalanced and topple over. After graduation her antics continue, in different venues. You see her at parties and she’s bumping into lamps that are half the size of her, knocking over beer bottles and red cups as she tries to right them.

One particular night, she was trying very hard to impress everyone by getting on the roof. You tried to stop her, but when Vada wants something, she’s a woman on a mission. In the end, you climb up on the roof with her (you can’t have her dying then she won’t spend money anymore…is your excuse). You lie on your backs and watch the stars for hours.

It’s like she has a sense for when you’re having a bad day. Once, after having a sketchy deal on the west side, you were at home feeling sorry for yourself. Questioning if this was all worth it anymore. As if on cue, Vada calls. She’s chatty and a little stoned, talking about nothing at all. You lay in your bed with your headphones in, bringing her voice as close to your ears as possible. You don’t need to speak much, she fills a lot of space. When you do find room to talk, you ask her why she’s called.

You can hear her pause in thought, the scratching of her shoulders shrugging against the phone, and she says, “I don’t know. I just wanted to talk to you.”

It makes you feel like honey on the inside, and you’re not sure how to feel about it. But in the moment you’re comforted, so you stay on the phone with her until she passes out, four hours later.

She starts gifting you things like a little crow. Sometimes it’ll be a shiny coin she found, or a coffee, just the way you like it. Other times she brings you snacks, or little drawings that she’s made. You have a box in your closet specifically for the odd Vada gifts you get, and you keep each one.

[bellysoupset]

Hey up! I FINALLY have an idea for Lucas as the sickie and bell as the caretaker! (Well it’s more of a small request) maybe He’s been running errands with bell all day and just kinda suffering in silence for the whole day until he finally gets home and it all kinda hits him at once and kinda topples over in pain and of course some Emeto but please feel free to make changes etc etc !! 🌙 peace out 🌙🌙

oh heheeh, time to torture this cutie again.

------

Lucas had been spending the majority of his time at the hospital. As the only one who didn't work, that meant he could spend most of the time keeping Vince from breaking bed rest.

Still, that had been taking a toll on him and also, generally, in his personal life. Normally Bella left the house obligations to him, since he had more free time than she did, and with the renovation of their new condo, his list of errands had all but doubled in a quick amount of time.

Bella: did u pick up the new lamps?

Oh yeah, the new lamps. Lucas groaned, rubbing his temple and across from him Vince glanced away from the old rerun of Friends he was watching.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Luke shook his head, "just forgot to pick up some stuff. In fact, I'm pretty sure I forgot to pick up a lot of stuff."

Vince snorted, "that's because you've been babysitting me, even though I said five times already that I don't need a baby sitter. Wendy is in the hospital, Jon too. Casey the nice nurse is here and Tony the hotter nurse and Claire the one that I'm pretty sure spits on my food. I'm fine."

Lucas let out a chuckle, lowering his forehead to the hospital bed mattress, only to feel Vince's fingers in his hair, petting it lightly, "get out of here, Luke."

"Uhmm, okay," Lucas nodded, but didn't move from his position, "in a second, as soon as I get the energy."

Vince hummed, tapping the top of his head, "you good, Luke?"

"Yeah, just... Just tired, I guess," Lucas shrugged, straightening up. Now that he had a second to assess himself, he realized he wasn't actually feeling all that well.

His stomach hurt, but Luke chalked it up as hunger. He hadn't eaten since morning, because unwillingly, his own meals had synched up with Vince's mandatory ones. He also felt lethargic as hell.

"I don't want to see you here tonight," Vince shooed him with his good hand, "I'm serious, I'll ask security to ban you. Get out of my hospital room."

Luke rolled his eyes and got up, "sure you will, you love my company... But yeah, I think I need to rest, your couch is comfy but not nearly as comfy as my girlfriend's bed."

"Bet Bella also doesn't snore as much as you do," Vince grinned, "get out of here."

Figuring he should tackle the first issue first, Lucas headed straight to the hospital's buffet before even running his errands. People said hospital food was garbage, but what people meant was that the severely sick patients with different amount of sodium intakes allowed were served horrible, unsalted food. The cafeteria one, though, Luke had learned through his teenage years, was awesome. No one wanted nurses and doctors unhappy.

He piled on his plate with food and then sat down at a little table on the corner, taking his time to answer all the texts he had left for another time. Vince's mom had gotten his number and she was just as chatty as her son. He had a backlog of at least ten texts from her.

Bella had texted him too, although hers were less conversation and more her utilizing one of their many group chats to dump on their list of chores. He sent her a saluting emoji and "on it boss". She texted back with an eyerolling emoji and then, "you're coming home tonight, right Lucas?"

How could he ever even say no.

Lucas: ofc, i miss my girl.

He saw her little bubble pop and disappear twice, before her answer appeared.

Bella: and here I was thinking I'd have to fight Vince

He snorted at the mental image and pocketed his phone, turning his attention to the food. He hadn't managed even half the plate, but his stomach already felt full. It was unlike him, he was the type to have seconds and thirds.

Luke pushed the meatballs around his plastic plate, trying to figure if he should overdo it or risk throwing it away and being hungry later. Deciding he really didn't want to derail his day by having to eat again, he mechanically chewed the remaining meatballs and got up.

As soon as he was up his stomach jumped to his throat, in a nasty belch that he had no control over. He slammed a hand to his mouth, catching the tailending of it, but far too late. On the table next to him, some nurses wrinkled their noses and glared in his general direction, causing his cheeks to burn.

He made his exit quick after that.

Home Depot wasn't his natural habitat. In fact, it was almost an alien landscape, snob kid that he was. Lucas felt like every worker there was deeply aware how out of place he looked, even if common sense actually told him he looked like he belonged.

He spent more than thirty minutes trying to decode whatever Bella had meant when she typed "eggshell mud green paint" and eventually decided that fuck it, grabbing the ugliest shade of green he could find and putting it inside his cart.

The more he walked around, confident that he was picking every single piece wrong no matter how hard he tried to decode the instructions, the more it hit him that he had been wrong. His nausea earlier hadn't been hunger.

Lucas grimaced, pressing his stomach against the horizontal cart handle. It caused his stomach to let out a gurgle and he muffled another burp, blowing it out under his breath.

His phone buzzed and he picked it up, squinting at the screen. The queasy sensation spreading all over him was making everything else too much. The bright white lights over his head, the store radio, his clothes clinging to him.

Bella: can you buy me tampons 😭I forgot

He groaned then nodded, only to realize a second too late that Bell obviously couldn't see him.

Lucas: yeah. that green brand with the pink things?

Bella: sí.

He pocketed the phone again, then groaned as a horrible taste flooded his mouth. It made him shiver, his hair glueing down to his forehead.

Giving up on home depot, Lucas paid - even though he was pretty sure he'd have to return - and headed to the parking lot. He barely got to load all the packages in the backseat, before his stomach churned again and Luke ended up bending in half, retching to the gravel between his sneakers.

Nothing came up, but his nausea jumped up a notch. He spat the bitter taste in his mouth and rubbed his stomach, sweat running down his forehead and his shirt glued to his back, even though it was a pretty chilly day out.

He rasped out, trying to catch his breath and keep his lunch down at the same time, which was proving to be a challenge. Another wet burp rolled up and Lucas groaned, pressing his forehead to the leather of the seats in front of him.

He palmed over his belly button, where he could feel some angry gurgling and pressing. Another sickening belch made past his lips, offering not an sliver of relief, but pushing the nausea back enough that Luke could straight up. His lips were covered with drool and Lucas grimaced, wiping his mouth and his forehead.

Well... fuck.

He still had to stop by the pharmacy, so despite his whole body aching and the contents of his stomach sloshing every time he so much as breathed, Lucas got to it.

The pharmacy was brighter than home depot, causing him to squint the entire time as he picked up the package of tampons, grabbing the cramps medicine with one hand and planting it all over the counter with a groan.

"Good... Good evening...?" the cashier sounded horrified and Lucas sighed.

"Not really," he took a step back to avoid breathing in their direction.

"Do you have our loya-"

"No, please," Luke groaned, "just... Please."

Catching the memo, the blonde before him scanned his itens as far as possible, flinching in sympathy when Luke's stomach gurgled.

"I also get super nauseous on my period," they said and Luke frowned, confused.

"I'm not... It's not my-" his stomach cramped again and the pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, gulping down and deciding not to clear up anything, "yeah, it fucking sucks. I'm sorry for-" he gestured to his general self, "keep the change."

"Feel better!" came a squeal behind him, followed by "ginger helps!"

He wasn't sure ginger or anything could help. Luke felt drunk by the time he pulled up in front of their place and he couldn't insert the fucking key.

His stomach was crawling up his throat and he gagged, liquid splashing on his tongue and puffing out his cheeks... He swallowed it back down, dropped the key and then slammed a hand against the door, "BELL! Open-" he gagged and slammed the door again, "BELL!"

He heard a distant squeal and then footsteps, followed by "Luke? Did you forget your-"

As soon as she opened the door, his stomach turned again and the only thing he could do in order to not throw up on her was grab his girlfriend by the arm and push her to his side, as vomit covered the very spot she had been standing on.

He crumbled down, falling to his knees and Bella let out a curse, barely avoiding the puddle of sick and holding his shoulders, "hey- Hey, Luke- Lucas-"

He was far from done. His stomach was still burning, bubblying with sick and he retched again, bracing against the floor and gagging as his hand met hot chunky vomit.

Bella planted a cold hand on his forehead and supported his head, a good thing she did because the next heave was productive and if it wasn't for her holding his head, he'd have covered his shirt with it.

Red sauce sprayed all over the Welcome In mat and Lucas groaned, wrapping an arm around his stomach and turning around, dizzily falling on his ass, head meeting the open door.

"Joder, Luke," Bella cursed, hands cupping his cheeks and gagging softly as her knee met the puddle that was impossible to avoid, "what the hell, baby...?"

"Sorry," his voice was completely gone and Lucas ducked his head, belching to his lap and spreading his legs apart so he could spit on the already destroyed mat, "sorry, I-"

"That was frankly the most impressive Exorcist imitation I've ever seen," Bella teased lightly, leaning in and planting her lips to his clammy forehead, "I think you're running a fever, Luke."

"Kill me," he groaned pitifully, muffling another burp against her band t-shirt, "my stomach hurts, Bell..."

"Okay, uhm..." she ran a hand through his hair, then down his sweat covered shirt, "you need a shower... I'm gonna-" Bella grimaced, glancing at the mess on their front door, covering the mat, running down the brick step, "Yeah, I'm gonna trash that mat and wash this down, alright?"

"Sorry-"

"Shh," she kissed his temple, "are you done?"

"Fuck no," Lucas groaned, "I had a large lunch."

"Well, you couldn't have known-"

"I knew," he grimaced, leaning back against the door and rubbing his stomach, tugging at the shirt and sighing as his girlfriend helped him strip it off, despite the fact they were sitting on the front step, facing the street, "my stomach was already hurting, but I thought it was hunger..." he burped, pressing on his belly, "I was wrong."

Bella let out a disappointed sigh, "clearly," she rolled her eyes, then used his shirt to wipe down his mouth and glanced at his belly, "okay, can you stand?"

"Give me a minute."

"Sure," she cringed, stroking his cheek, "let's sit here with the puddle of vomit."

"Uhm," Lucas smiled, tiredly and rubbed yet another wet burp up, "I got you the tampons."

"...Ah puta mierda, Lucas, you didn't have to go to the pharmacy when you were sick!" Bella exclaimed, "no wonder you couldn't make it home."

"I did make it home," he glared at her in a lighthearted manner, then gagged as another churn warned him his stomach was done with his silly teasing. He burped in his fist and then patted Bella's hip with his free hand, "move-"

She almost fell off the step in her rush to move out of the way and Lucas groaned as he felt her hands on his shoulders, keeping him from leaning too forward. He gagged, no longer bothering to aim anywhere. It was already a horrible mess.

Bella's thumb was rubbing lazy circles on his nape and Luke tried to focus on it, but it was to no avail. With another belch, he coughed and a gush of chunky vomit joined the previous mess, some of it covering the hem of his jeans.

"Gross," Bella mumbled, "take a deep breath, Lu-"

He heaved, loudly, and another watery amount rushed up, stinging his nose, mostly pink instead of the cartoonish red from before, "I think..." Lucas burped, spitting the thick saliva pooling in his mouth, "think I'm done."

She let out a humm and kissed the top of his head, "alright, then hold on me. Let's get you in a shower... Or to a priest."

Lucas groaned, hugging his stomach, "don't make me laugh, my stomach is so sore."

Bella opened a smile, grabbing his arm, "up, up, up."

He allowed her to pull him to his feet, swaying on the spot and grabbing on the door handle to keep him from toppling over her, "this isn't fair, my first night home in three days."

"You might consider where you picked this stomach bug in the first place," Bella said, gently maneuvering him around the cramped house, towards the bathroom, "I'm going to tell Wendy."

"About me hurling?" Lucas blinked, confused as Bella pushed him inside the shower and turned the water on, his jeans and sneakers be damned.

"Yeah, it's worrying if you got this in the hospital," she said, then gestured to the water, so he'd get in.

"Okay," Lucas sighed in relief as the water washed down the clammy sweat, hands fumbling with his jeans that were getting heavier and heavier with the water, "this wasn't very smart- Ow!" he jumped as Bella slapped his hand away and promptly undid his pants, "watch those claws, Bella!"

She snorted, crouching down to peel them off his legs. She grabbed his hip when Lucas swayed and moved up, balling the ruined pants in her hand, "I'll be back in a second. Don't fall and hit your head."

"I'm a better patient than Vince."

His girlfriend rolled her eyes, "not by much, baby. Not by much,"

[myrrh-dock]

9 for the writing prompt thing?? <33

BUNNY MY DARLING ANYTHING FOR YOU.

send me a prompt I'm in the mood to write some Eddie fics

Fluff #9: “You took all my pillows so I’m using you as one.”

Warnings: References to drug use (marijuana)

You’re not sure how long you’ve been staring at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling. Minutes, hours maybe. It’s not your fault you lost track of the time, you just… Eddie’s bed is comfortable, okay? And when you’re stoned, you become a comfort hoarder.  Steal every single comfortable thing that Eddie lets you. Blankets? Yours. Eddie’s most comfortable shirt? Yours. The only things Eddie holds onto with his iron grip are 3 out of the 6 pillows he keeps on his bed.

Speaking of Eddie, he’d gone silent. Usually pretty chatty when he’s stoned, he’d been talking about his plans for next week’s Hellfire club session when you’d zoned out. You slowly turned your head expecting to find him asleep. Instead, your eyes meet brown. He’s staring at you, eyes roving around as if he’s searching for something.

“Something on my face, Munson?”

He smiles, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. It looks almost bashful.

“Yeah, let me just…”

His hand comes up to your face and gently brushes his fingers against your cheek. 

“Eyelash,” he says. “Make a wish?”

You look at his finger to find the pesky stray eyelash, close your eyes and blow the lash away, wishing he’d just make a move already. When you open your eyes, you find him staring at your lips. He looks back up into your eyes, then back at your lips. He leans forward slowly, hesitant.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Whoever in the universe is listening right now, your timing is horrific and I hate you.

“Shit, is it really 12:30?”

He squints at his wristwatch, pressing two buttons to shut off the noise. The moment’s gone. He sits up, messy hair pressed flat on one side after laying on his side for so long. The dim yellow glow from the lamp on his nightstand washing his hair in gold. 

“I’m going to go grab us some water and, uh, brush my teeth real quick then we can figure out how we’re getting you home. Cool? Cool.” You nod your head, realizing just how dry your mouth has gotten. He gets up and speed walks out of the room, rubbing the back of his neck as he goes.

You don’t want to move but you sit up anyways. You look at his side of the bed and realize this could be your moment. You grab his 3 sacred pillows and tuck them around you before laying back down and burying yourself in Eddie’s blanket while you wait for him to come back with the water. You can hear him shuffling around the trailer quietly, but the warmth from the blanket and pillows quickly drag you to sleep.

--

Slowly, you become aware of a warm weight on you. You open your eyes to find Eddie asleep on top of you, head resting on your chest. You look down at his face, a small smile on his lips. You realize you’ve never seen him look this content before. You bring your hand up and gently brush his hair away from his face. He stirs, muttering before burrowing his face deeper into your chest.

“Eds?”

From under his mess of curls, you hear a slurred, “You took all my pillows so I’m using you as one.”

You card through his hair with your fingers, gently scratching his scalp. “Sorry, Eddie.”

“‘S fine. You’re a pretty comfy pillow anyways, now go back to sleep and I’ll drive us to yours in the morning.”

With a quiet "g'night sweetheart", he nuzzles into the crook of your neck and his breathing evens out again, slipping back into dreamland. You quickly follow, your last thought wishing this moment would never end.