#he’d probably have a hell of a time with it too

[batsandbirdbrains]

Inspired by the one anon who asked abt fics where Dick turns out to be younger than people think he is and the recs that were given:

What if it’s like a scenario where Dick’s parents / the circus changed his age in documents so he could perform. And his age changed all the time on paper because different countries had different rules, even different cities/counties might not be the same as the one next to it. And so Dick sort of forgets how old he actually is most of the time, he just sticks with whatever his parents last told him.

And he was told he was eight when they were in Gotham. He was just short for his age because he’s a gymnast, that’s what they told anyone who questioned them.

In reality, Dick was five years old.

And by the time he remembered he should probably tell Bruce that, it’s already been too long. It’s several months after Bruce has taken him in, after he already has been Robin, and it just hits him one day that he’s going to be turning six in March. Bruce thinks he’s turning nine.

And Dick gets this horrible terrible no good idea in his head that if Bruce finds out he lied about his age, that Bruce will get rid of him. Won’t want him anymore. Will call him a dirty liar and kick him to the curb.

And Dick can’t lose his new home. He loves Bruce. He loves Alfred. And he loves being Robin. So he keeps it a secret and tries to forget that he’s three years younger than he’s supposed to be.

It’s a damn good thing Dick’s parents were rigorous in his schooling, and by some miracle he tests into the proper grade for his age when Bruce starts him at Gotham Academy. It’s a bumpy start, but it’s easily explained away by the slight language barrier. Dick actually speaks and reads English just fine, he learned it the same time he learned French and Romani and Arabic, but it’s a good excuse for why his penmanship is clumsy and why he starts out just slightly behind his peers.

He puts so much extra effort into his school work that by the time he’s supposed to be 13, it’s recommended he skip a grade. Bruce is so proud. Dick is somehow managing to get by as a ten year old in high school, and he cannot figure out how he’s pulling this shit off. Talk about being a showman, because it feels like he’s playing the world’s most impossible role.

But then something happens when Robin is on a team mission with the young justice season 1 team. Some magic shit. Maybe Klarion does something, maybe it’s like the episode where the adults get separated from the kids, but instead of it being everyone over 18 is separated from everyone under 18, it’s anyone who’s a teenager and up being separated from the kids who are all 12 and under.

And no one can figure out where Robin is. And also Captain Marvel is missing. What the fuck.

Bruce is fucking freaking out because he cannot figure out why Dick isn’t anywhere, why he can’t get ahold of him. He’s convinced Klarion must be holding him hostage or something.

And then you have Dick and Billy saving the day on their side, and Dick convinced him to try to transform into Captain Marvel. Billy doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t want to leave Robin alone if it makes him disappear to, but Dick assures him he’ll be fine, they’ll both be fine.

And then they come up with a plan yadda yadda the world is saved Dick and Billy save the day, the rest of the episode doesn’t matter.

But Batman pulls Robin aside immediately once they’re all back together and asks him what the hell just happened.

And Dick just starts crying. He’s so stressed out. This whole situation was so scary and he wasn’t actually all that confident the plans he’d made would work he only pretended to be so sure of himself so Billy could do his part and not be scared too. And also it’s really fucking stressful being a ten year old in high school. It’s very hard. Dick’s life is very difficult, and now his dad is finding out that he’s not as old as he’s been pretending to be, and everyone else is there and going to find out to, and he’s so overwhelmed.

“I didn’t mean to,” Dick says through full on sobs, and Bruce is so concerned and he’s hugging Dick and trying to calm him down, but Dick has gotten himself all worked up. “They changed my age all the time so I could perform, I’d be six in one city and eight in the next and seven in another and I just I forgot I wasn’t really any of those and then you adopted me and I forgot I wasn’t really eight until it was almost my birthday but it was too late to tell you and you would’ve been so mad and you wouldn’t have wanted me anymore and I didn’t know what to do!”

“Hey hey hey, slow down, slow down,” Bruce tells him, “take a deep breath. You need to breathe, Robin.”

But Dick just falls against Bruce’s shoulder and cries. He doesn’t want Bruce to think his parents were bad parents. Because they weren’t, they were the best. They just had to fudge some things so Dick could perform with them, so he could have fun up in the air with them, lots of people in the circus lie about their age!

“Oh, chum,” Bruce coos, resting his cheek on top of Dick’s head, rubbing his back. “I could never not want you. I love you, it doesn’t matter how old you are.”

“You do now!”

It makes Bruce’s heart shatter into pieces. Because Dick really thinks there was ever a time he didn’t have Bruce wrapped around his little finger, he doesn’t realize that Bruce has loved him from the first moment he wrapped the tiny little acrobat in his coat and carried him away from the puddle of blood he’d been kneeling in.

“I have always loved you,” he whispers. “And I always will. But chum, this is important. I need to know how old you really are.”

Dick sobs into his shoulder one more time before he lets out in a miserable whisper that everyone manages to hear, “Ten.”

And Batman damn near breaks. He lets out a shaky gasp, and his grip tightens on Robin as his knees buckle and he falls to the floor, now holding Robin tightly in his lap.

“You were five?” he asks. “Oh my God, you were five.”

Batman has a breakdown right then and there, but he keeps it very contained. He refuses to let go of Robin, just continues hugging him close and whispering that he loves him, he’s not mad at him, he would never ever get rid of him.

Idk what would happen after this but I know for certain Dick and Billy become bffs.

[bogwaterparasite]

Saja Boys HC’s!!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Paring: Saja Boys x Reader(?? If you squint

A/N: I just watched this movie and, Oh MY GOD! I am OBSESSED WITH IT. Genuinely, I feel like the writers did such a good job at portraying the characters and the storyline without it feeling rushed? I would love to see it as a series sometime, or have some sort of sequel/prequel to answer all of my questions!! But for now? I’ll just stick to writing Drabbles about guys who only had a few minutes of screen time.

BTW. This is all simply MY opinion on them, they have no defined personality so literally almost everything could be cannon.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Baby Saja

★ He’s on his phone, like, a LOT. Not in a brainrotty way, but he’s just rather uninterested in anything else.

★ Nonchalant dread head. He doesn’t care about things too much. Want to hang out in a big group? Ok! Want to stay in and not do anything? That’s cool. Sometimes it can be quite annoying, considering you’ll be the one making the decision half of the time, but he will take the initiative eventually.. (Still, be prepared to be the one who ends up deciding what yall do, even if he started the hangout)

★ No sense of taste. Heavily based on him and the hot sauce contest thing

★ Plays video games. Not a gamer, just uses them to pass the time. He’s awfully good at them, specially fight games, however, he doesn’t like rpg games.

★ For someone who’s nonchalant, he cares about his appearance a little too much. What can I say? A man just wants to look cool

★ Lazy as hell. Like stated before, if you wanted to do something he wouldn’t oppose to it, however, he won’t go out of his way to do something.

★ Doesn’t like hot drinks, don’t ask why

★ Isn’t very fond of animals, they’re too much work and bothersome.

★ Likes soft to the touch things

★ Doesn’t like interviews much, mostly because of the amount of talking you have to do in them

★ Always has something in his mouth; gum, lollipops, soft candy, he always has something there. He don’t like crunchy things tho, the vibrations they send to his head.

★ Heavy gaslighter, like, he enjoys to bother others. Type to hide your things and then act like he has no clue what you’re talking about up until you’re going crazy not being able to find the object

Abs Saja

★ Foodie, but in reality he’s just a fatass. Says he’s bulking but he just likes to eat

★ Prefers sour over salty, does NOT like sweet things

★ Constantly showing off his muscles, specially his abs, lets bffr his whole personality are his abs.

★ During the winter he likes to go on runs shirtless, or he’s just always constantly shirtless.

★ Annoying asf. He’s funny, but in the way that he says the dumbest things constantly and makes you wonder how many times he’s been dropped as a child.

★ Social, but still likes to keep his distance to people. He hates talking about feelings, and if you do try? He’d probably find a way to avoid the situation with a dumb comment

★ Dog person all the way, he’d have a golden retriever named cupcake or world destroyer

★ He’s pushy when it comes to things that he really wants. You’re going to the gym with him whether you like it or not, will sulk if you end up winning.

★ Surprisingly a good cook, but he’s messy as hell

★ Immature as hell. He would laugh at penis jokes, or just any type of middle school joke.

★ Sore loser, yet, he sucks at any game that doesn’t involve some sort of athletic performance.

★ He sleeps with his socks on

★ Self centered. He watches edits of him on repeat, constantly likes posts about him and probably has magazines of himself hung up on his walls

★ Doesn’t like children

Romance Saja

★ He likes cars

★ Reads romance novels, books, fanfiction (SPECIALLY about him) will say dumb corny shit all the time, like cheesy pick up lines from hallmark movies

★ Theater kid, watched Highschool Musical too many times to count

★ He cares about his hygiene a lot. Manicures, pedicures, metrosexual in a way.

★ Huge fashionista, he has a mannequin of himself in order to pick out outfits.

★ He can’t hold his alcohol, EXTREME lightweight.

★ He likes word games

★ He likes to tease people, their reactions are simply too good to pass up on.

★ If you are in a relationship he’d make it a thing to take the role of the knight and shining armor, or just the typical male romance movies role

★ Speaks French

★ Out of all the members, he’s surprisingly the weakest physically.

★ Unlike abs, he LOVES to talk about his emotions. Overshares constantly, can be quite annoying sometimes but oh well.

★ If he were to have any pets, he’d have something that wouldn’t get him that dirty, most likely a fish. He believes they’re perfect companions (even though you can’t do much with them)

Mystery Saja

★ This has been obvious, but the quietest of them all. You won’t hear a peep from this dude until waaaaay later into your interactions, and even then it won’t be much.

★ Animal lover. I don’t believe he would have a pet, but he’s the type to stop while walking to pet a stray or some shit like that. Call him snowy white because he’ll even have insects land on him and he won’t care

★ Very good listener, of course, he isn’t much for giving advise, but he’s always there to hear whatever might be troubling your mind.

★ I wouldn’t say he’s antisocial, but I wouldn’t say he’s social either. He much prefers one on one hang outs, whether it’s outside or inside.

★ He sucks at saying tongue twisters.

★ Artist. He expresses what he doesn’t voice through art, mainly paintings. He tried to sell some as modern art once, but no one bought any.

★ over-analytical over the dumbest shit

★ he barks at people

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

I was blanking really hard on Jinu, so I might just group him in with huntrix if I ever decide I want to make one for them! Also, so sorry for the delay on posting, I’m sure half of yall don’t care atp but I still feel horrible about it LOL. I leave for the military in about a month! So, expect to hear absolutely nothing for six months after that!!

Hope you enjoyed! Reblogs are appreciated ^^

[kdh-tally]

i have such bad brainworms over zoey and mystery and i’m living in rarepair HELL because there’s barely any content about them ( ; ω ; )

anyways can you write any headcanons you have about them specifically? i saw this tweet earlier this morning that said that if the saja boys came back to life (somehow), that mystery would shyly ask the other boys if zoey meant it when she said he was her type and the BRAINWORMS ARE WORMING ( : ౦ ‸ ౦ : )

Prompt : Zoeystery Headcannons <3

Authors Note :  I don’t think Mystery is shy, just quiet. Bro was barking at a random fan… he must be a bit crazy. I do adore this ship however and have so many ideas for them but I have so many ideas for everyone else too 😭 Hope you enjoyed :D

Context 

I do think that once the Saja Boys reunite with Jinu they have like a 24 hour long conversation about how life will work for them in the human world (since they can’t go back)

Confessions will be made

Romance and Abby admitting that maybe their flirting with Mira isn’t just flirting and they actually kinda like her.

Jinu confessing that he is very much in love with Rumi

The boys all look at him with straight faces.

“We’ve known”

Baby is just there, drinking some hot sauce drink made specifically for him after everyone saw the hot sauce challenge. He isn’t interested in anyone.

Everyone turns to mystery, the only guy that hasn’t spoken yet.

First he tries to play it off “I’m not into any of them like that…”

The boys continuously hound him. He can no longer maintain his mysterious image any longer. 

“Okay fine,” he runs a hand through his hair. 

I feel like he’d keep his hair up in a ponytail or bun or something when around the boys. 

This headcannon is kinda specific but because he was the only demon with like “tusks”, I feel like after becoming human he would still feel uncomfortable with his face hence the hairstyle.

Leading to his confusion about Zoey cause he might feel as though she doesn’t deserve someone like him.

“I’m not saying I like her or anything but… do you guys think Zoey meant what she said?”

No one’s sure what he’s talking about because they weren’t there. Except Baby. 

This guy is laid back with a grin as he 100% knows what is bothering Mystery.

“About you being her type?~” he teases

Uproar

Mystery is trying to sink into the couch to avoid all the teasing thats being thrown his way but he notices there’s an unanimous agreement that Zoey must have been honest.

Zoey isn’t any better off.

Even though the girls have more or less accepted the Saja boys into the human world, they’ll still probably be a bit on guard at all times.

“Zoey he’s the enemyyyyy” Mira would groan, interrupting one of the black-haired girls' many rambles about the Saja Boy.

“But Rumi is half-demon and she isn’t the enemy” she’d argue in defiance.

“This isn’t about being a demon anymore,” Zoey would have Mira pulling her hair out, “He’s the competition!”

“But Rumi gets to be with Jinu and no one says anything!!!” 

Rumi is in immediate denial but no one is listening

All 3 girls know that Zoey will continue to pursue this crush anyways

General 

Now, Mystery is probably the most quiet Saja Boy. He doesn't talk much, but every time he does, Zoey repeats whatever it is he said in her head for hours.

Zoey would totally fluster him (and herself) by mistake

Remember the scene where they had a joint fan meet and she was immediately all giggly when he sat by her?

This would set off something in his heart yk. 

Zoey also needs to like physically remind herself to stop fangirling around him 💀

Mystery’s the “cool one” of the group but if there was ever a moment where Zoey let her hair out of her cute space buns?

He’s a goner

Even watching her rap messes with his heart strings

How can someone so cute be so attractive?

There are fan edits of them glancing at each other at the same time that go viral constantly.

A specific one is this fanart I saw on tiktok of them doing the “Bark Like You Want It” trend (will link it and add a photo in the end)

Someone also made a compilation of them looking away awkwardly after accidentally touching each other.

Zoey once wore earrings that were clearly his during a livestream.

No explanation was given.

The fandom exploded.

Mystery avoided the internet like a plague. He didn’t even know how she got them.

The line he had in “I’m Your Idol”?

“I will love you more when it all burns down”

Notice how Zoey goes from looking like a hypnotized zombie into a smiling hypnotized zombie???

He would write lyrics about her but disguise them as some metaphorical demon lore. 

Zoey reads between the lines way too easily (she writes lyrics for a living) and now whenever he performs it, she won’t make proper eye contact.

She eventually admits this to him and he’s just like “Yea I figured”. Zoey clocks that this was one of his chosen methods of flirting.

They talk best when no one's watching. 

Mystery doesn’t feel like anyone will be there to tease him and Zoey won’t feel any guilt for talking so much

I JUST REALIZED THEY’RE LITERALLY THE YAPPER X LISTENER DUO!

"Do you ever miss being a demon? Not having a soul?"

“Not having a soul meant I wasn’t able to feel all the joy you bring me" my guy is a flustered mess.

Zoey would leave sticky notes on the boys' dorm fridge. 

All of them are jokes or warnings. The warnings are specifically for Baby though. 

"don’t eat my snacks unless you want your hand broken, Baby :D"

The ones she leaves for mystery are always sweet though.

"You looked nice on stage today ;P"

"Wear your hair up more! ><"

He keeps them folded in his wallet.

Zoeystery and Baby

Speaking of Baby

Zoey and Baby are most definitely a messy duo that both fans love to see together.

With Baby being their number one (in secret) supporter, Mystery would almost always find himself tagging along on their adventures.

Making pancakes at 3 in the morning? Mystery is helping them with the batter.

Having a rap battle? Mystery is tallying up the points.

Finding a way to prank Jinu? Mystery is making sure they escape without getting caught

He really only follows Baby cause he knows it means he’ll be spending time with Zoey.

Overall they're just two cuties.

[the-librarby]

hiii i love your drunk in the club series !!

would you write a blurb/fic where johnny shows the rest of the 141 the picture from the bar of reader and ghost? i feel like that could be so cuteee

DRUNK IN DA CLUB — OUTTAKE I

- SIMON RILEY (COD)

I’ve been waiting for this one, let’s fucking go.

It had been less than twenty four hours back on base before John set his mind to ruining Simon’s day.

He was fucking tired— a nice bone tired after a good holiday — no one has really picked up on his oddly serene mood yet, and he was hoping to keep it that way for at least the rest of the day.

Miss you already.

Sent 25 minutes ago.

He wasn’t ignoring you, just waiting for a pocket of silence where he would have you to himself without peering eyes and ears. The dining room was empty as of now, everyone being preoccupied with unpacking their things so he was soaking in the last minutes of peaceful silence until all hell broke loose.

“Restful break then?” Gaz asks, clapping him on the shoulder before taking a seat beside him.

“S’alright,” he mutters through his mask.

“No beach trip like Soap wanted I take it?” He inquires jokingly, broad smile on his face.

Simon rolls his eyes, “Fuck no.”

Price mills in not long after, catching the tail end of the conversation, “Hell would soon freeze over before I here about Ghost at the beach,”

“Can’t argue with that, Cap.” Gaz laughs.

A steady silence washes over the kitchen as everyone goes about their individual things. John is suspiciously absent, he’s usually the first one trying to unpack a conversation—in avoidance of unpacking his bags—Simon thinks he’s probably stealing another minute to talk to that girl he met through you.

He spoke too soon.

Moments later Johnny strides in, first it’s inconspicuous, like he’s just trying to see what everyone else is up too. But then he sees who’s in the room, Simon sitting at the head of the table while Gaz and Price sit either side engaged in small talk. Simon watches as John’s expression morphs into one of concerning mischief. He watches as he cautiously approaches the table, standing at the other end and pressing his fingertips together like a cliché villain would.

John clears his throat, “I’m glad I could bring you all here on such short notice,”

Gaz raises an eyebrow and looks at Simon, “What’s he on about?”

Simon shrugs, “Fucked if I know,” he knows.

“You’re probably wondering why I called you here,” John carries on, pacing back and forth.

“Spit it out son,” Price sighs, “It’s too early for you to be talking in tongues,”

John points at Simon, “He’s the one that’s been talking in tongues,” he shoots back, laughing at his own inside joke.

“Anyway, where was I,” he pauses, “Oh yeah. I am here to tell you the epic tale of the one who crumbled The Ghost himself.”

All three men look at him in silence. If Simon wasn’t wearing a mask right now he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose, he refuses to give into the bait so he just sits there in silent resignation.

Gaz is the first to break the silence, “Five bucks I call bullshit— it’s gonna be some elaborate fairytale,”

Johnny points at him as an auctioneer would, “I call your bet, anyone else in?”

Price sighs and leans back in his seat while crossing his arms over his chest, “Get on with it Soap, I don’t have all day,”

John clears his throat theatrically, “I, ever so graceful—”

“Yeah, that’s the word we’ll use,” Gaz mutters.

“Shut up,” he raises his palm in Gaz’s face, “Ever so graceful, hosted Ghost over the break,” he lowers his hand, “And in that time, I saw this fucker find his soulmate,”

Price raises an eyebrow and looks towards Gaz, “I think I’m seeing the fairytale come to life,”

Gaz hums, “Where did the princess come from?”

John scoffs, “Can’t show all my card yet Gaz, c’mon now,” he looks at Simon, “Anything details you want to add? Wedding plans?

Simon shakes his head, “You’ve lost your mind,”

“Wedding?” Price inquires turning his head to see Simon now. He hates how much they’re both buying into John’s nonsense theatrics, he’d almost rather blurt out the truth himself.

“Who’s best man then?” Gaz laughs, “It’s me, right Ghost?”

“Fuck off,” John spits, “I’m the obvious choice,”

Simon huffs and looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disbelief, “Not havin’ this debate, finish your story, Johnny,”

“Eager huh?” He smirks but concedes, “S’lright Gaz, you can be the best man. I’ll be there regardless, being apart of the bride’s family and all.”

He knew the story had an end point, he knew it would end with himself getting outed. He just didn’t think Johnny would drop the bomb like that, but of course he shouldn’t have expected anything else.

“You fuckin’ dickhead, why would you announce it like that?” He mutters.

Gaz squints his eyes, looking a Price for guidance as he works out the mental maths before him, “Bride’s family?”

If he weren’t expecting it, he would have flinched from the way Gaz slammed his hands down on the table and stood up from his chair, “John’s sister?” He exclaims, “You got with his fucking sister?”

He looks at John, “And you’re not pissed off? That your lieutenant is dating your sister?” He looks at Simon, “You really want to marry into his family?” He asks, hitching a thumb in John’s direction.

Simon crosses his arms over his chest, “Didn’t say anything about a wedding,”

“Yet,” John interrupts.

Simon’s silence makes Gaz laugh hysterically, Price who hasn’t said a word at all, just shakes his head in disbelief.

“Alright,” Price raises his hands, waiting for Gaz to simmer down, “I’ve heard more elaborate lies from you over smaller things. I’m not believin’ another word until I see proof,”

John nods, “So glad you said that, Captain,” he reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. Simon would walk out of the room now if he knew it wouldn’t make his case worse, so he just sits there and grits his teeth.

Gaz is sitting on the edge of his seat, admittedly it’s gotten Price to straighten up too. John clears his throat once he’s found his evidence, “And to back up my claims, fresh off the press, a photo of two birds—one drunk out of her fucking mind—all cozy in their nest,”

Price is the first to lean forward and look at John’s phone. On the screen is the photo he took of the two of you at the bar, its exposure is slightly high from the flash but it’s undeniably himself and you sitting on the barstools. His arm is over your chest while you lie back against him, your arms hugging his own.

It’s damning evidence that even Simon can’t get around.

“Holy fucking shit,” Gaz breaks the silence, “This feels like a relic—like it needs to be preserved behind glass,”

“I fucking told ye, and you didn’t believe me,” John states.

Price looks at Simon and nods approvingly, “Good for you,”

“That’s it?” John asks, “Good for you? I just showed you evidence of the century,”

“I didn’t think you could even tolerate affection,” Gaz adds, looking speechless.

“Get this Gaz,” John continues, “First day there, it’s hot as balls and we go to a local swimming spot,” he puts his phone down, “I turn my back for one minute and when I turn around she’s slathering him in sunscreen,”

“Oh,” Gaz laughs, turning to Simon, “You like her huh? Did she get your back?”

John scoffs and crosses his arms, “She was too busy droolin’ over it to touch it,” he mutters.

“What?” Simon asks, suddenly interested.

“What?” John interjects, “Nothin’.”

Simon sits there and listens to John air out all his business like it’s his own. After the shock dies down Gaz and Price both look at him with a fond smile—in utter disbelief yes, but happy for him.

When time allows it, he sneaks back to his room and finally opens his phone. There’s two messages waiting for him, one from you, and an image from John.

Johnny told everyone about us.

That fucking asshole.

Guess I’m meeting them soon then?

Simon smiles, and types out one last message.

Maybe at the wedding.

Whose wedding???

When your last message shows up on Simon’s lockscreen, the photo from the bar pops up in the background.

[steddieas-shegoes]

three things

for @switcheddieweek prompt 'spit' (a little) and 'non-verbal negotiation' (mostly this one tbh)

rated e | 5395 words | also on ao3 | cw: under-negotiated kink | tags: switch eddie, switch steve, friends with benefits, bisexual steve, bondage, banter, frottage, spit kink, anal fingering, anal sex, dirty talk, choking, not actually unrequited feelings, open ending but we can play clue together

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

Steve’s jittery and it’s making Eddie fucking jumpy. From the second he walked in the door, Steve’s been bustling around, moving things he doesn’t need to, taking sips of Eddie’s drink, knocking into things. Eddie’s ready to tie him to a chair and—

Well, that’s an idea.

Just as he considers acting on it, Steve groans.

“Do you think I’m too high strung?” He asks as he paces the floor anxiously.

“In this moment or in general?” Eddie has to tread carefully here. Whatever’s got Steve on edge like this needs to be taken seriously. One wrong word and Steve will shut down and it’ll be a long fucking night of trying to pull him back in.

“Like, always? Or most of the time.” Steve stops pacing, sets his gaze on Eddie where he’s sitting comfortably at the kitchen table. “Do you think I think too much about little things?”

Eddie’s brow furrows. Where the hell is this even coming from? Steve’s not usually high strung. He gets anxious sometimes, like when he knows they have to do their annual check in with the government doctors, but that’s not unreasonable. If he knows one of the kids is flying, he gets a bit nervous, but Eddie just keeps him distracted as best he can and it passes.

“Suzie mentioned that sometimes I get stuck on small problems and they ruin my day,” he continues. “Do you think that’s true?”

Suzie is going to school to be a therapist and likes to psychoanalyze her friends. It’s equal parts fascinating and annoying, especially when she talks to Steve. He takes everything she says seriously, even though she isn’t licensed yet and probably shouldn’t be giving her professional opinion to him anyway.

“I think that you do what every normal human does sometimes and catastrophize a little when you worry. It’s probably the trauma,” Eddie shrugs and stands, moving close to him, but leaving him space to get away if he needs to. He’s acting a bit like a cornered animal right now. The last thing Eddie needs to do is actually corner him. “If you think it’s harming you, maybe you could talk to a licensed therapist.”

“Suzie’s as good as licensed.” Steve folds his arms across his chest. “And she said I rely too much on you.”

“Did she?” Eddie scoffs. Steve doesn’t. Steve doesn’t rely on fucking anyone. He’d be better off if he did rely on someone more. “What made her come to that conclusion?”

“Apparently I talk about you too much. She thinks you’re my only friend.” Steve sighs. “Now that I say it out loud it does sound wrong. I have friends.”

“No shit.” Eddie grins, leans in until he can smell the cologne Steve always wears to work. “I’m just your best friend.”

“Other than Robin.”

“Other than Robin,” Eddie agrees. He straightens his back and nods his head back towards the chair he was sitting in before. “You wanna sit while I heat up leftovers?”

“Oh, not sure I can stay.” Steve suddenly won’t meet his eyes. “I uh, I have a date.”

Eddie ignores the way his heart clenches in his chest, painfully tightening. Steve’s still antsy, he can tell. He’s gonna go to his apartment and pace and worry until he has to pretend to be fine for his date. And the date won’t realize he’s faking it, that he’s pretending to be fine when he’s not. Eddie can’t let that happen.

“You should cancel.”

Steve gives him a look, one that says he knows what Eddie’s doing and he isn’t gonna fall for it. He has before, though. He probably will this time.

“She’s nice. I’m not gonna cancel just for us to fuck around. What about that guy you saw last month?” Steve snaps his fingers while he tries to remember the quite frankly unremarkable guy Eddie sucked off at a club. “Jeremy? Joey? James?”

“Isaac.”

“I was close!” Steve claps.

“Alphabetically, sure,” Eddie groans. “He was boring. Didn’t even fuck my face when I told him to. He’d probably run screaming if I showed him my plug.”

“I almost ran screaming when you showed me that thing,” Steve laughs. “I’m gonna head out. You find someone more interesting than Isaac.”

Eddie could beg. He’s done it before.

He could go along with it and wait for Steve to inevitably show back up at his place later when he didn’t get what he wanted from whoever this woman is. He’s done that before, too.

He could turn on the waterworks and guilt him into staying. That’s not something he’s tried before. Bound to work, though.

Before he can muster up the fake tears, Steve is walking around him and staring at the chair.

He looks back at Eddie and squints, then back at the chair.

Eddie waits because that’s all he can do. Steve’s either gonna leave and go on his date or he’s gonna stay and they’ll fall into their comforting pattern of being the only people who understand what the other needs.

Steve walks to the phone on the wall, grabs a piece of paper from his wallet, and angrily dials.

“Julie! Hey!” Eddie rolls his eyes, mouths Julie and makes kissy lips while Steve’s back is to him. “Sorry this is so last minute, but they need me to close tonight. Maybe next week?”

Eddie watches as Steve’s shoulders slowly relax. Julie’s probably letting him off the hook, thinking he’s such a hard worker for staying when asked. Maybe she thinks he’ll be up for a promotion, making the big bucks soon.

Eddie knows that Steve’s gonna fuck him up tonight.

He doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation, only focusing back in when the phone drops back on the hook and Steve laughs.

“You should get the ropes.”

It’s not a suggestion as much as a demand, and Eddie doesn’t hesitate to do it. Steve doesn’t like getting tied up, not even if Eddie’s the one doing it, but he loves tying intricate knots around Eddie’s wrists and ankles, sometimes his chest and neck if they have time. It helps ground him, keeps his mind from wandering into anxious territory.

It’s perfect for tonight.

Eddie keeps his ropes in his closet, hung up so they don’t get tangled together. He grabs all of them, in too much of a rush to make a decision about which ones to use.

Steve’s pulled the chair to the center of the room and he’s wringing his hands together like he needs something in them. Robin mentioned getting him a keychain that doubled as a silent clicker so it would keep his hands busy when he needed it, but Steve turned it down. Maybe Eddie can convince him later.

After.

Eddie sits, holds the ropes in his lap, and waits.

Steve circles him like a predator circles their prey before they attack. He’s hot and his heart is racing, and he hopes that he can be forgiven for being selfish enough to get Steve to stay.

He kneels in front of Eddie, grabs his face in his hands, and grins.

“You wanted this.”

It’s true. But he never said it explicitly. Steve just knows. It’s why they work so well.

“I wanted you.”

It’s a bit too honest for them, but Steve doesn’t stop to take Eddie’s words in. He’s up and grabbing the rope from his hands, shoving his shoulder back until he’s almost worried it’ll bruise. Eddie’s pale and Steve’s rough and as much as he likes the reminders of what they do, he’s going to visit Wayne this weekend and doesn’t wanna risk him seeing it.

“Hey. Easy,” Eddie says with just enough bite to make Steve pause. “No bruises.”

Steve nods, apologizes, but continues his work. Eddie lets him.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

There’s something peaceful about letting Steve tie him up, making him helpless in the middle of his own apartment. He knows he’s safe, they’re both safe. He doesn’t have to feel the emptiness inside that he feels when Steve’s not with him.

He feels full, even without the plug.

“Eddie. Look at me.”

Eddie does. His eyes feel heavy for a moment and then he sees how dark Steve’s eyes are, how blown his pupils have gotten. How long has Steve been working on him? Seconds? Minutes? Hours?

“Too tight?” Steve asks, for what must not be the first time. Eddie shakes his head. “Okay. I’m gonna grab the plug.”

Eddie’s not sure why, but he knows it’ll come to him eventually. He nods and waits. Steve’s only gone for a moment, familiar enough with where Eddie keeps everything to be quick.

He sets the lube and plug on the table, then turns to Eddie.

Eddie’s a bit in love with him, he has to admit. It’s pretty terrible to be in love with your best friend, especially when it’s a guy who has made it pretty clear he’s never gonna be ready for a relationship with any man, let alone Eddie.

But he drops everything to do this with him, and he comes here right after work even when he’s exhausted, even if it’s just for a few minutes, even though it’s two miles out of his way. He sleeps in Eddie’s bed when they get too high for him to get back to his place, curled up into his side or around his back. He uses Eddie’s soap in the shower and wears Eddie’s shirt when he forgets to bring the clothes he keeps here home to wash them. He leaves notes around the apartment for him to take his meds and to call Dustin and take out the trash. He does everything with love and it’s hard for Eddie to separate it sometimes.

Steve straddles his lap and waits.

It’s Eddie’s turn now. Focus.

“Gonna be good and listen to me?” Eddie asks him, voice rough.

Steve shivers in his lap. “Yeah. Tell me.”

Eddie uses all his strength to sit up a bit straighter, appear bigger. Steve loves when he’s tied up and bossing him around. He loves being told what to do while Eddie’s like this.

“You gonna stay dressed?” Eddie asks, not caring much either way. Might be hard to get the plug in, but they don’t have to do anything with it if Steve changed his mind.

“For now.”

“Then touch yourself.”

Eddie watches as Steve runs his hands down his chest, skims the edge of his shirt, slides them underneath. He wants him to strip it off, wants to see the way his nipples harden under his own touch, the way his chest hair darkens as sweat beads on his skin the more worked up he gets. He doesn’t make any noise when he pinches his own nipple, just lets out the breath he must’ve been holding for a while.

“Now the other one.”

Steve listens, stays quiet and obedient, just the way Eddie likes him.

“Feel good?” Eddie asks, but he already knows it does. Steve’s nipples are sensitive. He loves having Eddie’s teeth on them, tugging and sucking them into his mouth.

“Yeah, but I want more.”

“Greedy, but fine.” Eddie glances behind him, sees the bottle of lube. “You planning on using that or no?”

Steve follows his gaze, hands never leaving his chest. “The lube or the plug?”

“Either. Both.”

Steve shivers. “Maybe. Rather you do it later.”

Eddie’s not opposed. He likes watching Steve, but if he gets to have his hands on him later, have his plug in him, then he can wait.

“You gonna get yourself off like this then?” Eddie thinks he might be able to if they play their cards right. He’s never come just from playing with his nipples, but it doesn’t seem impossible. He’s riled up right now. On edge in every way. It might be time to try it out.

“Don’t think I can,” Steve admits, pouting his bottom lip out. It should look ridiculous, but it makes heat coil in Eddie’s stomach. He wants to bite it, suck it into his mouth and taste the spit pooling on his tongue. He wants to make him bleed so he can taste that too, find out if it’s as sweet as the rest of him. “Not without a hand on me.”

“I think you can.” Eddie laughs when Steve groans at him. “C’mon. I’ve seen you do harder things. Find a way.”

“Don’t have to be mean. I canceled a date for you,” Steve bites out, pinching his nipples again and scooting forward in Eddie’s lap. His dick is hard in his jeans, but he’s not gonna find what he needs with the way Eddie’s chest and stomach are pulled back with the ropes. Not unless he gets real close. “I’m not doing it all by myself.”

“You tied me up,” Eddie snorts. “I assumed that meant you were gonna do it yourself.”

Eddie’s own dick is straining in his jeans. It’s getting a bit uncomfortable, but he knows Steve will be pissed if he asks him to unbutton his pants. He’s supposed to sit here and take it, and Steve will sit there and do what he says. That’s how this works.

“Sit still then.” Eddie hasn’t moved, but he wants to now that Steve’s made the demand. He scoots even further up, so his dick is rubbing against Eddie’s stomach. It’d feel better if he took his pants off, but he’s stubborn. “I’m gonna get off like this.”

He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince Eddie.

“I’ll wait.” Eddie smirks when Steve narrows his eyes at him. “Go ahead. I’ve got all night.”

His legs are a little numb from being tied and having Steve’s weight on them like this. The dining room chair isn’t exactly comfortable to begin with. He’s a little shocked it’s holding both their weight like this.

Steve ruts forward once, twice, groans before he drops his head to Eddie’s shoulder. He isn’t gonna get as much friction as he wants like this, but he can get the job done.

“That’s it. You just need something to rub your dick on, huh? Anything would work,” Eddie teases, voice low. “So desperate.”

He tries to sound annoyed or uninterested, but he knows he sounds a bit awed. Steve’s hips move faster as he talks, the room gets hotter, and the air gets thicker. Eddie gets impossibly harder in his jeans. If it’s possible to break a zipper, he may do it any minute.

Steve whimpers as he bites down on Eddie’s shoulder. He’s a bit sweaty from the day, and he knows his shirt can’t smell or taste good. Steve doesn’t seem bothered.

“Can’t believe you tied me up just to hump me like a dog,” Eddie grins around the words. “You know there’s better ways to do this.”

Steve pauses in his movements, but doesn’t sit up or move his face away from Eddie’s neck. It’s all Eddie needs to know that he can keep going like this.

“So stubborn. I should make you use the wall next time.” Steve whimpers and ruts forward. “You’d love it. I could sit here and watch. Probably hurt after a while, huh?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t say anything. Eddie smiles to himself.

“You like when it hurts though. That’s why you can’t stop what you’re doing now.”

“Mhm. Like it when you hurt me, though.”

Eddie bites his lip. God, he does love hurting Steve. He’s so good at being hurt. Takes it so good and then gives it right back to Eddie as if he isn’t covered in bruises and scars left by Eddie’s teeth and fingers.

“I like it too,” Eddie allows himself to say. It’s important to keep the boundaries there, but sometimes he can be vulnerable. If Steve starts it, he can follow. “You gonna let me touch you?”

“Maybe in a minute.”

“You’re only hurting yourself, baby.” Eddie rolls his shoulders, breath hitching at the way it tugs the ropes tighter around his wrists for a moment. Baby is allowed. Steve said it first months ago, one of the first times they did this, and it stuck. It’s fine, especially when it’s slightly mocking like this. “I could make it feel so good. You know I take care of you.”

Steve tenses, almost like he’s going to come, then groans and pulls his head back, looking at Eddie with wide eyes.

Eddie looks back at him, calculating, trying to get a read on what’s going on in his head.

He’s still unsure what truly caused his panic earlier, other than Suzie’s words. Something had to, though. He’s still sifting through it, not quite over the tension.

And then it hits him.

His date.

Steve hasn’t had a real date in months. He’s definitely done questionable things in bar bathrooms, but he hasn’t taken a girl out since…

Since they started this.

Eddie rushes to think back to what Suzie told him, thinks about things Steve probably left out of his explanation. How quick he was to cancel the date once he knew what was on offer.

Steve struggles with being the one to call the shots. Not just in bed, but always. He always asks others to choose what they do, and usually tries to leave another adult in charge as often as he can.

Other than life or death situations, Steve Harrington likes to follow someone else’s lead.

This thing they have, whatever it may be, it works. Eddie calls the shots a lot, but there’s still times when Steve’s in charge. Like now, when Eddie’s tied up, completely at his mercy. He may be encouraging Steve to do things, but he’s not the one making the decisions, not really.

It’s Steve’s safe place to call the shots. Eddie’s his safe space. Not this girl he was going to take to dinner or a movie or back to his place.

“Hey.” Eddie wants his hands free, but it’s selfish. His mind is reeling as he thinks of a way to do this without making Steve lose the control he has. “You’re gonna do something for me.”

It’s another demand, but he knows Steve will listen.

“What?” Steve asks, flushed and struggling not to find any more friction.

“Tell me three things you want me to do.”

Steve’s shaking and Eddie doesn’t know if it’s from being so close to the edge or from nerves or from being overwhelmed with all of it at once. He’s never looked so unsure when they’re doing this, not even the first time when they hadn’t figured out how to communicate yet.

“Like…now?”

“I want you to answer now, but it can be stuff you want me to do later.”

Everything shifts again; A whine marks the moment that Steve gives in.

“Can you-”

“No.” Eddie leans in, gets close enough that he can feel Steve’s breath against his own lips. “Don’t ask me. Tell me.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, closes his eyes, and relaxes his shoulders. Eddie watches, waits patiently. His legs are starting to get tingly, almost painfully so. The feeling comes and goes as Steve shifts in his lap, moving weight from one leg to the other and then settling on both.

“Open me up.” Steve says so quietly Eddie almost asks him to repeat it. “I want four fingers.”

“Four? You sure?” Eddie’s never given him four. Steve’s never given himself four as far as he knows.

“Yeah. I can take it.”

“Okay. That’s one,” Eddie wants to kiss him, but he won’t. He can’t. Even if he weren’t tied up, he wouldn’t. “Another one.”

“I want you to fuck me.” Steve pauses like he’s going to say more. Eddie waits again, less patiently now that he knows what the next hour might entail. “In your bed.”

The silence that follows his request is louder than their breaths, louder than the thud, thud, thud of their hearts beating in their chests.

They don’t do that. They do a lot of shit, but they don’t do that. They fuck on the couch, the chair, against the wall, the shower, the floor. Never the bed. Not Eddie’s, not Steve’s.

It’s like kissing, in a way: silently forbidden.

Steve tenses when Eddie doesn’t respond. He starts to scoot back to get up, but Eddie lets out a noise close to a whine. He wants to move his hands, grip Steve’s hips so hard that there’s no way he doesn’t have bruises in the shape of his fingertips in the morning.

“What’s the third thing?” Eddie asks, making sure he knows he needs to stay right where he is.

Steve doesn’t say it. He’s pushing Eddie, seeing how far Eddie will push back. He could get up right now, go to Eddie’s bed, and they’ll forget all about the third thing. Eddie will let it be left in this room, never to be mentioned again.

“I’ll tell you later.”

He should insist on it now, but he won’t. Steve’s taking the reins now.

“Untie me.”

Mostly.

Steve works quickly, letting the ropes fall to the floor as Eddie slowly moves his limbs to get feeling back. He shivers when Steve’s fingers brush against his wrist, pulse speeding up under his careful touch.

“Anything hurt?” Steve asks, checking in the way Eddie showed him to the first time. Eddie taught him a lot of things. “Need anything?”

“No, baby, I’m good,” Eddie smiles, a real one, a soft one. Something almost too gentle for what they’re doing. “Let’s get in bed.”

He almost forgets to grab the lube and plug on the table behind him, but remembers when he watches Steve adjust himself in his pants and awkwardly half-waddle out of the room. He wants to use them when they’re done, after Eddie’s fucked him until he can’t talk.

Steve’s finally undressing, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. It feels like they belong there, like they could find a home in Eddie’s laundry basket, and then in his closet. Like pieces of Steve could stay.

Steve looks good in his bed, on his back, parting his legs. His hand cups his balls, lifts them as if he’s showing off exactly where he wants Eddie to go. Eddie’s dick leaks at the thought of being inside him.

He could probably lick him open and shove inside him with no argument, even though it would be uncomfortable and probably a little too painful even for Steve’s taste. He likes feeling the pinch of too much, the drag of skin that should be wetter. Maybe next time.

Eddie’s not gonna be mean like that, but he is gonna be quick. He’s not patient enough to take his time the way Steve may have thought he would.

He spits on Steve’s dick as he settles between his legs.

“Keep touching yourself. Don’t come,” he orders, pouring lube onto his fingers. “If you come, we stop.”

Steve whimpers and nods, accepts the challenge for what it is. His hand moves slow, languid in finding the perfect level of pleasure to keep him on the edge but not sending him over.

Eddie starts with two fingers, a happy medium between the pain Steve likes and the pain Eddie wants to try someday. It’s still enough to have Steve tighten around him, letting out a noise he’s never made before.

Eddie pauses and raises a brow up at him. Steve relaxes. Eddie continues.

He’s not gentle, but he could be a lot rougher. He has one purpose: open Steve up. He doesn’t even try to find his prostate until he’s ready to add the fourth finger that Steve wanted so bad.

Steve’s barely moving his hand anymore, just squeezing the base of his cock like it’s the only thing keeping him on earth. He’s burning up inside and out, sweat building on his thighs, darkening the hairs just enough to be noticeable.

As soon as Eddie pushes the fourth finger into him, Steve goes still and silent. Any sign of the anxious mess of a person who was pacing his kitchen floor earlier is long gone.

Eddie only gives him a second before he moves, pulls his fingers out and pushes them back in. It’s tight, really tight.

“Gotta relax or I can’t fuck you like you wanted,” Eddie reminds him. He looks down at where he’s stretching Steve, watches his hole flutter around his fingers as he desperately tries to relax. “Bet I could get my whole hand in if I used more lube.”

Eddie’s actually not sure he could with how tight Steve is now with just four, but Steve pants, nods like he agrees. Maybe they can try that, too.

Now that the bed is an option, Eddie could try a lot of things. So could Steve. Eddie thinks feeling his entire hand inside him might be enough to send him over the edge, dick untouched.

Steve finally relaxes enough around him so he can move and there has to be a direct connection between his fingertips and his own dick with how it jumps when he stretches his fingers. He’s sweating now, too, using his free hand to brush the hair off his shoulder for a moment.

“Your hand’s so big,” Steve whines, lifting his legs back further with what little strength he has left. ”So much.”

Eddie agrees. He’s watching how much he’s stretching him out and thinks it should be impossible.

He feels lost right now, shocked into watching what he’s doing rather than doing what the logical next step is: getting his dick inside Steve. It’s mesmerizing.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice is unsure. “Look at me.”

Eddie’s eyes snap up to his face, unblinking.

“You need me to tell you what I want?” Steve asks, letting his legs fall to the bed. The new angle shifts his fingers so they brush against Steve’s prostate. He bites back a moan, but so does Eddie. “Let me.”

Eddie nods. He can’t fucking think for himself right now. Some switch flipped when he saw the way Steve took him, and he’s not sure he can switch it back by himself.

“Touch yourself. Get yourself wet.”

He does it. How can he not when Steve is taking deep breaths to keep himself calm? How can he not when he’d do anything that Steve asks of him?

He misses Steve around his fingers, misses the heat of it, the warmth that ran from his hand to his chest. The direct link is gone, even if just for a moment.

Eddie spits on his hand, makes the glide of his hand easier. He knows not to come, but he knows he could. Steve’s eyes are on him, watching and assessing, figuring out what he’ll do next.

Steve isn’t the type to drag this on. He doesn’t like delaying his own pleasure. He’ll make Eddie come inside him the way they both want, he knows that.

But he still worries this will be the time he can’t hold back, that Steve will watch him until he comes and then the night will be done.

“Just the tip.” Steve’s words make Eddie whine. It’s not enough, but it might be too much. “Take it slow.”

Eddie leans down, lines himself up. The moment he’s inside Steve, he groans and his brain resets, focuses.

He waits for Steve to say he can give him more. He wants to give him more, he needs-

“More.” Steve is barely holding it together at this point, Eddie can tell from the way his voice shakes and his hand grips Eddie’s shoulder like his life depends on it. “Slow.”

Eddie goes slow. One inch further, one degree warmer.

Another inch and Steve’s grip is harder, bringing him back to earth.

He shares a look with Steve, sending the message that he’s good, he wants to take things from here. Steve will let him.

“You’re so good,” Eddie groans against his mouth as he kisses him, pushes in until he feels tight heat surrounding him completely. “Always so good for me.”

Steve tightens around him, legs wrapping around Eddie’s back and tugging him closer. It feels too much like something he can hold onto, something way more than what it’s supposed to be. He doesn’t comment on it. He can’t.

Steve tilts his head back, lids heavy as he begs Eddie for something only Eddie can give him.

He wraps a hand around Steve’s throat, squeezes once, and fucks into him hard.

Steve’s hand moves to Eddie’s wrist, his silent permission to keep going, understanding of what he has to do for this to keep going.

They’ve never properly talked about this. It’s stupid and Eddie knows he needs to be careful.

He is. He’s always careful with Steve.

He only does it twice more, but it’s enough to have Steve pushing back against him, asking for more. Eddie removes his hand, grazes it down his chest, grips at his chest hair and tugs.

Steve yelps and Eddie smirks. “Thought you liked when I was mean,” he says to be extra mean. “You beg me to be rough all the time.”

“Be rough. But slow.”

Eddie is too close to go slow, but he thinks Steve’s in the same boat. He can probably get away with a few minutes of being rough before he comes.

“Wanna taste you,” Steve says, and it sounds like it might be the third thing he wanted. Eddie’s not sure what he means, though. They don’t kiss so it can’t be that. “Please, let me taste you.”

Eddie holds his chin, considers his next move as he fucks into him once, twice, grinds into him until they’re both breathless. He digs his fingers in, keeps Steve’s jaw open.

He leans in close enough to feel Steve’s breath in his own mouth.

“You wanna taste me?” He whispers.

“Yes.”

Eddie licks Steve’s bottom lip, so quick he could almost convince himself it didn’t actually happen.

Then he spits. Right in Steve’s mouth, watches it pool on his tongue.

Steve swallows it without being told to, closes his eyes and groans. He looks blissed out, cheeks red and forehead shining with sweat. He’s never been more beautiful, never made Eddie want to devour him quite like this.

It’s hard to keep things slow after that, but god, he tries. He would do anything for Steve, but he’s only human. He can’t be this close for much longer.

Steve’s eyes open and he doesn’t have to say anything for Eddie to know he’s too close to keep going.

They come seconds apart, so close Eddie’s not even sure who got there first.

Eddie fucks into him until he physically can’t anymore, wincing when it’s too much for his softening dick. He always pushes too much.

Steve lets out a laugh as Eddie falls to the side, grunting when his cheek smacks against Steve’s arm. He sighs and rests his lips against the skin there, scared to bring attention to it, but not wanting to put space between them yet.

It’s quiet for a while, their breathing evening out slowly as they come down. He still doesn’t move, but his brain’s starting to catch up and he’s left wondering something. He probably shouldn’t ask.

“What’s the third thing you want me to do?” Eddie asks anyway.

Steve is still, and Eddie thinks he hears his breath hitch.

His other hand comes up, resting gently on Eddie’s head. It’s a heavy weight on him, making him hotter when he’s already overheated. A comfort when he’s been giving and taking so much.

“Love me.”

Eddie should be more surprised to hear it maybe. He doesn’t even have a reaction at first, just soaks in the words.

Loving Steve Harrington has been easy so far, even though it’s been in silence. Understanding who he is, what he likes, what makes him tick, all of it has been a gift.

Even when he overthinks things, even when he’s high strung.

But loving Steve Harrington loudly, in the way he needs, the way he craves, might be even easier.

So he lets his lips pucker, kisses Steve’s arm.

“Is that all?” He asks, looking up at Steve with a smile.

[worms-blood]

Nothing On (But the Radio)

Pairing: Dante/(fem) Reader Warnings: None Tags: Summer, Booty Calls, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Teasing, Hand jobs, Shower Sex Word Count: 5,471 Summary: You and Dante come up with a fun way to beat the summer heat. AO3 Mirror A/N: inspired by the heatwave going on in da east coast...

The whirring noise of your overhead fan buzzed from above you so loudly that it was starting to get on your very last nerve. 

It was a hot summer afternoon in Red Grave City- one of the hottest days on record in the last five years at that. Every single window was open in your tiny one bedroom apartment, including the balcony door- no screen door to buffer you from any creepy-crawlies that might want to come in and explore, but you’d deal with that later- and the living room ceiling fan was working overtime, spinning around on full speed so hard that the concern of it breaking from the ceiling and crashing down below onto you crossed your mind twice now. Hell, you’d even walked two blocks in the sweltering heat to grab one of the last cheap, portable fans in stock at the local discount store in efforts to combat the heat. But it still wasn’t enough.

Currently, you were standing in the cramped kitchen of your apartment, sticking your head into the freezer in an effort to cool down some. It wasn’t working. Annoyance was building inside of you at the lack of relief, and it was combining with the boredom that came with hot days like this- like the knowledge that even if you found something to do today, you’d never really be comfortable in this heat. To say you were bored was putting it lightly. And what was worse, you were mildly worried that as temperatures continued to skyrocket, your entire apartment building would lose power like what had happened a few times last summer. Oh, the joys of living in a city such as Red Grave.

Pulling your head out of the freezer, you sighed to yourself. Today was such a waste of a day. Truly, there was nothing to do. You opened your refrigerator door, grabbing a can of soda on the shelf before bringing the chilled aluminum to your forehead. What a miserable day, too hot to go outside but also too hot to do anything of real value. Bringing the can down from your head, you snapped the mouth of the can open and with the refreshing clicking sound of the tab, an idea hit you. Suddenly, you knew how to make this day a lot more entertaining.

Taking your newly opened soda with you, you returned back to your living room in search of your previously discarded cell phone. When you found it, you quickly unlocked it, opened the contacts app, and scanned the impossibly long list of names before you settled on the one that always delivered on a fun time: Dante. You clicked the call icon before bringing your phone up to your ear, finally taking a sip of your soda as you waited for him to pick up. The carbonation of your soda buzzed in your throat and down to your chest as you swallowed, although that might have also been from the jittery excitement that came with placing a booty call.

Dante picked up on the very last ring of the call, saving you from the embarrassment of being sent to voicemail purgatory. “...Hello?”

“Hey, what’s up? What are you doing?”

“Oh, you know-” His words broke off, and you could hear the garbled sounds of some creature-thing in the background, whatever that was. “Just out and about, the usual,” Dante continued. There was a strained quality to his voice, almost as if he’d been running around or doing some other sort of high impact activity. Well, you certainly had another one in mind for the two of you to do later.

You nodded despite the fact that he couldn’t actually see you do so. “Wanna come over?”

“Right now?”

“Sure, or whenever,” You sipped your soda once more, smacking your lips after swallowing. “I can make you something to eat,” You paused for a moment, remembering the state of Dante’s place the last time you’d been over. No doubt he probably didn’t have electricity during a heatwave like this, if you knew him as well as you did. “And you can use my shower, if you want.”

Dante didn’t respond right away, but you knew he was still on the line as you could hear him breathing. You could also hear the muffled shouts of the other Devil May Cry crew members, and it was then you realized that they were probably all out doing a job or something together. Part of you was almost touched that he’d picked up your call mid fight, the other part of you was baffled he was still so reckless in his old age.

“Sure, why not?” Came his response, making you refocus on the call you were on rather than where your thoughts were headed into a daydream of a sweaty, shirtless Dante triumphing over a bunch of demon scum. “Should I bring the whole crew?”

“Nah,” You responded quickly. “This is an invite for you only.” You hoped he would pick up on your words, the inflection of your voice, and understand what you were implying was in store for him if he came over.

Dante seemed to have no trouble picking up on your implication, and you could hear the smile in his voice when he responded, “You’ve got too much time on your hands, babe.”

“Oh, well, wait until I get my hands on you,” you teased back, grinning to yourself.

You could hear Dante snort a laugh into the phone before he replied, “Alright, I’ll be there in 20 minutes and then we’ll see.” He hung up after he spoke, and you dropped your phone on the couch next to you.

That meant you had about 20 minutes to get ready, which was more than enough time to get ready. Not like you had to shower or anything, you figured he’d be sweaty from the job and you could both just clean up together afterwards. No sense in getting clean just to get dirty again. Instead, the first thing you did was mosey on over to your bookshelf which held your radio CD player and turned that on, letting whatever CD you already had in there play. The sound of pop music filled your living room, something bubbly and dance worthy, which suited you perfectly as there were some nervous butterflies inside you that you had to dance out to get them out of your system. Despite the fact that you and Dante had done this dozens of times by now, there was nothing quite like the twitchy anticipation that came with knowing you were about to have your whole world rocked by him all over again.

Eventually, 15 minutes passed quickly. You could feel the prickles of sweat under your arms and on your palms, the heat long since forgotten and replaced by the excitement you were feeling for Dante’s arrival. The soda you opened had since been demolished, the empty can left lingering and crushed in your sink. Dante would be here any minute now, and you probably should’ve made an effort to tidy up your apartment somewhat, but you also knew he didn’t care about stuff like that. It was easy, being with Dante like this as you never felt like you ever had to pretend to be someone you weren’t. You knew he liked you exactly as you were, nothing more and nothing less.

The thought gave you another ingenious idea. Moving fast, you got up from where you were sat waiting on your couch, the ceiling fan still spinning overhead as if its life depended on it, and moved to your bedroom where you were quick to pull your tank top off and over your head before discarding it on the floor next to your bed. Next, you kicked off your shorts and panties in one swoop, leaving you bare to the toasty air of your apartment. Just in time too, as there was a booming knock to your front door singling that Dante had arrived. He was a minute early, how nice. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself as you made your way to the front door, already picturing the shocked look on his face when you would open it. That was something you liked about Dante, too- those rare moments where you were truly able to shock him. You loved seeing his face twist in reaction to one of your antics, it was like the ultimate cure for whatever boredom you were feeling in the moment.

You peeked through the peephole of your door, just to make sure it really was Dante and you weren’t about to accidentally flash some poor (lucky) soul, before yanking the door wide open and posing with a hand on your hip. Clearly the last thing Dante had been expecting when he’d knocked on your door was for you to open it as naked as the day you were born, and you watched as his jaw slid wide open and his eyes nearly bugged out of his head like a cartoon. Only if this was a cartoon, he’d be going awooga with heart shaped eyes judging by the expression on his face. Instead, you watched as his eyes traveled from the top of your head down to the very naked tips of your toes, a satisfied heat brewing inside of you at the glimmer of lust you saw in his beautiful blue eyes.

When he stood rooted to the ground of your doorway and made little to no effort to enter your apartment, you leaned forward and grabbed him by the lapels of his red jacket before dragging him in. As much as you loved his reaction to your surprise, you didn’t want to stand naked in your doorway for too much longer. Once the door was closed behind him, you spoke, “You like what you see?” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes, trying to play as coy as someone who was entirely naked could be.

“Damn, babe,” Dante's expression softened, ridding his face of the shock written on it before, as his hand clasped on his firm pec over his heart. “You’re gonna give a guy a heart attack.”

“Sorry,” You practically purred the word, feeling completely unapologetic, “It’s just sooo hot out today.”

“Yeah, well, it’s about to get a hell of a lot hotter now,” Dante smirked as you struggled to not roll your eyes at him. However, before you could open your mouth to chide him for keeping a girl like you waiting, Dante got the one up on you by leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss rapidly grew deep, turning into a mashing of teeth and lips pressing hard as your tongue met his own. You could taste the faint taste of salt on his lips, another reminder that he was coming straight to you from a job.

Not willing to break the kiss, you kept your hands gripped tightly to his jacket as you took a step backwards, giving Dante no choice but to follow where you guided him. With every step back you took, it seemed like the kiss was going to break, and you were pleased when his lips chased after your own each time. Eventually, you backed up enough that you could feel the stern press of your dining table poke against your ass and you knew you’d moved where you wanted to be.

It was here that you finally broke the kiss before releasing your grip on Dante’s jacket, hopping up onto the table behind you without turning away to look at it. You then parted your knees, spreading your legs enough so that Dante would have room to kneel between them if he so chose to. And you so desperately wished that he would. Throwing another heavy lidded glance up at the man in front of you, you waited to see what he’d do next.

Dante clearly got the message of what you wanted loud and clear, and began to move to his knees onto the floor in front of the table. His gaze locked on to the sight of your exposed pussy before him, no doubt glistening at this point from just how wet only kissing him got you. He leaned in close to you, not close enough to be able to touch you, but you watched as his eyes fluttered shut and he inhaled the heady scent of you. A throaty groan left him as he pulled back to look up at your face. There was an unmistakable flash of heated desire in his eyes, something that made you shiver in expectancy despite how hot the room was rapidly becoming, almost boiling at this point.

“Is this the meal you mentioned before?” Dante asked, his eyebrow arched sharply as he teased you.

The sudden question took you out of the aroused mindset you’d been burning in for a moment as your brain processed what he was asking. However, you were quick to laugh, “No,” you closed your eyes as a smile plastered itself on your face. “I’ll still make you somethinnng-” The words quickly transformed into a loud, drawn out moan as Dante used the moment you spoke as another opportunity to one up you again by forcefully plunging a finger deep into you. The sudden intrusion made you keen loudly, throwing your head back as your eyes squeezed shut in complete bliss.

Dante seemed pleased with your reaction, and he hummed to himself before leaning forward and sealing his lips tightly around your clit. He sucked against your swollen flesh roughly while his finger began thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace. Clearly, he was in no mood to hold back, as it wasn’t long before another finger joined the first, both of them pumping inside of you in unison. The combined efforts were sending you closer to the edge, and your climax was building at an alarming rate. The call to rut your hips into his face was one you couldn’t deny, despite the uncomfortable feeling of your sweaty skin pulling away from the wooden table each time you did so.

Moans were leaving you uncontrollably, and you leaned backwards onto your elbows as Dante continued to drive you towards orgasm. The room was starting to feel unbearably hot, so hot that you weren’t sure if your head was starting to spin from how toasty the room was or how hard you thought you were going to come. You could still hear the sound of your CD still playing in the other room, the pop music now sounding dull in comparison to the sound of the blood rushing in your ears and the wet noises coming from where Dante’s mouth was locked onto your pussy. Although you had your eyes screwed shut, you could tell that Dante was enjoying this too as you could hear the groans of his own enjoyment escaping him under your own noises.

Suddenly, his fingers stilled inside of you before pushing in as deep as they could go, pulling another loud moan from you as he sucked harshly against your clit. His fingers then began to pump inside you in a circular, fluid motion, pressing tightly against that sensitive spot on your inner wall. Dante’s mouth released your clit, instead switching it up so that his tongue flicked back and forth against your clit in a way that you knew that he knew you liked. The change in simulation had your eyes crossing behind your lids, bursts of lights danced in the darkness there, and you were so close that it was starting to physically hurt.

Despite the orgasm that was now at the very tips of your fingers, you still needed more. Your hips continued back up rutting against Dante’s face, and he met your need with an overeager impatience. His fingers sped up the twisting motion deep inside you while his tongue flicked against your clit with a speed that was unmistakable due to his half-demon status. It was finally enough- your release hitting you so hard that you had no choice but to cry out loudly as your thighs clamped around Dante’s head firmly. Waves of pleasure coasted along your body, causing your elbows to finally give and you found yourself laying flat against the wood of your dining table. Sweat drenched every inch of your body, creating a seal that fused you to the table. You’d have to clean that later, for sure. You struggled to catch up with your breathing as jolts of bliss made you throb, your body jerking against the table as your thighs finally parted enough so Dante could untangle himself from your body.

As you slowly came back down from your high, Dante stayed on the floor, pressing chaste kisses against your inner thigh. Just the drag of his facial hair against your sensitive skin was enough to get your heartbeat spiking once more, and you could feel yourself becoming needy for more. Slowly, you sat back up on the table before reaching down and over so you could run your fingers through Dante’s hair. He looked up at you as you did so, making your heart tense up in something you couldn’t quite put a finger on. You watched as he put those two fingers that had been inside of you to his mouth, licking them clean from the essence of you left on them.

“Help me down?” You asked, despite the fact that you most certainly did not need help getting off the table you had so easily situated yourself on.

If Dante knew that, he didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he stood up and offered his hands out for you to steady yourself with as you hopped off the table. “So what do you got in store for me now, babe?” He asked as you moved to grab a paper towel to wipe your sweat and other fluids off the table.

“Ugh, it’s so hot in here,” You sighed, fanning yourself with the paper towel roll before tearing off a singular paper towel and wiping the table. “Wanna go take a shower?”

“You read my mind,” Dante nodded affirmatively as he watched you clean the table as best as you could for the time being.

Once you finished tidying up, you crumpled up the paper towel and threw it onto the table. You’d deal with that later. You had more important things at hand, like getting in the shower with Dante as quickly as you could. Turning back towards the man, you took his hand and led him into your bedroom, somewhere he’d been countless times before. You figured he’d probably want to wash the clothes he currently wore, which was fine with you, you had an in-unit washer and dryer which was more than he could say. Plus, you’d graciously allowed him to keep a pair of sweatpants in your dresser for occasions like this specific one.

The two of you made your way to your bathroom, and you turned on the shower. Normally, you were one to take showers so hot it was like you were bathing in the fiery lava of hell, but you figured since it was so damn hot out already, you’d settle on lukewarm water for now. Plus, weren’t you both going to make it extra steamy in there anyways? Once the water was to your liking, you went ahead and pulled the shower curtain back and stepped into the porcelain tub since you were already naked. You’d wait for Dante in here, and you could tell you wouldn’t be waiting long as you heard the sound of his clothes rustling around before they dropped to the ground.

After a few moments, the curtain pulled back and Dante appeared, stepping into the shower to join you. You were already under the stream of water, letting yourself get drenched as he watched, taking in the sight of you. “Hey, make some room for me,” He said, prompting you to switch places with him so he could stand under the shower head instead.

You watched as the water tumbled over him, choosing a single droplet to follow with your eyes as it trailed over his shoulder to his chest before dropping lower and over the firmness of his abs. Your eyes dared to drop even lower, taking in the glorious sight that was a naked and wet Dante. Breaking your stare, you looked up again, this time letting your eyes rest on his face. He had slicked his wet hair back, revealing so much of his face that you found it hard to look away.

It was seemingly impossible for you to play it cool, and Dante knew it too as he looked at you looking at him. “What, do I have something on my face?” He asked as his hand rose to his face before rubbing at it hard, playfully like he was daring you to say something.

“How’s the water feel?” You asked instead. “Temperature alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Dante nodded, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “In fact, why don’t you feel for yourself?” He started to pull you closer to him, and you let him. “Plenty of room for the both of us under here.”

There was, in fact, not plenty of room but who were you to deny him a chance to get closer to you? So instead, you shuffled closer, your chest against his own as you both tried to stand under the water together. The heat from his body so close to your own sparked something insatiable inside of you, and you were unable to resist the urge to throw your arms around his neck and usher him to lean down so you could kiss him hard. You were quick to part your lips and beckon his tongue into your mouth, and you were pleased when Dante followed your lead. The kiss quickly grew intense, the two of you moving your heads together so that it could deepen further, and you were glad you had Dante to hold on to as you stood on the slippery tub below.

Dante’s hand’s gripped your hips tightly, pulling you flush to his own body so that you could feel his rock hard cock as it pressed against your own body. One of your arms unraveled from around his neck and slid between your bodies, moving downwards until you were able to wrap your fingers tightly around his dick. Dante moaned into your mouth as you did so, a sound closer to a whimper than an actual groan as his hips bucked once against your hand. A sense of pride swelled in you at the noise, and you had to fight the urge to scoff in a teasing manner, instead opting to begin pumping your fist up and down the length of his cock. You kept kissing as you did so, relishing the way Dante’s lips were going slack against your own, no doubt he was struggling to keep up with however good you were putting as much effort into as you could.

You kept jerking your fist along him, enjoying the way you could actually physically feel him getting harder in your grasp. His hips were moving along with your own movements now, bucking slightly as he got carried away with the pleasure. Your fist tightened, narrowing even more so when you’d get back up to the spongy head of his cock as you twisted your wrist, moving his foreskin along with you. Dante’s moans were escaping the confines of your kiss now, his hips still thrusting into your fist, but in a way that told you he was getting closer to orgasm.

Then, as quickly as it started, you pulled your hand away, watching out of the corner of your eye as his cock sprung from the motion, flopping upwards towards his abs from how rigidly hard he was. With a smug smile, you turned around, flexing your back towards the man as you spoke, “Will you wash my back for me, please?”

For once, it seemed like Dante was stunned into silence. However that was short lived, as he quickly regained the ability to speak, “You little tease,” his tone was surprised, and there was no malice in it, just pure amusement. “You know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you? Working me up like that to take it all away.”

You said nothing, opting instead to simply lean forward and rest the palms of your hands against the cool bathroom tile in front of you, arching your back so that the cushion of your behind pressed against the heated, firmness of Dante’s cock. Shifting your hips from side to side slightly, you couldn’t help but smile as you heard Dante sigh at even the slightest sensation you were providing him. You turned to look over your shoulder, flashing that coy smile at Dante before you spoke, “And what are you going to do about it, hmm?”

There was a flash of wild impatience in Dante’s eyes that almost made you wonder if you made a mistake by teasing him like you were having so much fun in doing. “Oh, babe,” He shook his head wistfully, putting on a show like you were gonna regret your actions. “You have no idea what’s in store for you.” With those words, his hand moved to your backside, squeezing the meat of one ass cheek before pulling it apart from the other. He held you open like that while his other hand dipped lower, pressing inside your pussy with one fluid motion. The unexpected action made you gasp, your back arching further as your feet spread further apart to grant you more stability in the slippery environment that was your shower.

Dante’s finger pumped in and out of you, building up a wetness that was so ample it was surely not going to be washed away by the shower stream still cascading off you both. Slowly, he pulled his finger out of you and instead replaced it with the head of his cock. He didn’t push inside of you yet, instead you could just feel the tip of his dick slide against your slit, spreading both his precum and your own fluids against you both.

“Dante,” You whined, dragging out the last syllable of his name in impatience. The acoustics of your tiny bathroom only served to make the call of his name bounce off the walls. You looked over your shoulder at him once more, arching your back further as you tried to entice him into giving you what you wanted.

He chuckled, his voice thick with amusement, “I just love how you say my name, babe.”

And with that, he finally began to feed his cock into you, the slight stretch burning as you both underestimated the way the water would wash away any natural lubricant. However, that didn’t stop either of you, and Dante continued to press inside of you until he was sheathed all the way inside, his hips flushed against your ass. He paused, and both of you collected your baring as you felt yourself clench and release him uncontrollably. You felt his thumb rub a circle onto the skin of your butt cheek, like he was trying to soothe any discomfort he was causing you away. The two of you were breathing in unison, ragged breaths that were getting increasingly harder to take the more the bathroom steamed up.

“Dante,” You whined again, “Move.”

The sound of Dante chuckling hit your ears once more, and you had half a mind to complain that he wasn’t doing things fast enough to your liking before he began to pull out out you, keeping only his tip kissing your folds before thrusting all the way in again. He began a startling pace, something that had you near squirming as you stood, your eyes fluttering shut as moans were mangled in your throat. His hips almost hurt as they banged into the plush of your ass with enough force that you were positive you’d bruise from this. Your fingers scrambled against the wet bathroom tile of the wall in front of you, searching desperately for something to hold on to, to support you during this, but coming up empty handed. It was was like all you could do was stand as firmly on the ground as you could and take it- not like you were complaining though, if anything you were glad you were able to work him up as much as you did. The outcome was always worth it.

Dante continued to thrust into you, his hand resting on your lower back before pressing down, guiding you to arching further for him. The slight change in angle had his cock driving even deeper in you than before, going so deep that it felt like it was battering your cervix in the process. You could hear the sound of Dante’s harsh breathing over the noise of the water, singling that he was closer to his end than you thought. It all felt so good- the relief of the muted shower water fighting off the summer heat combined with the way that each time Dante bottomed out inside of you sent stars behind your eyelids.

Moving around, you released one of your hands from where it supported you against the wall, and snaked it downwards your body to rub circles onto your clit. The added stimulation sent a liquid heat, something white hot, through your veins, bringing you even closer to the cliff you were about to plunge over. Dante seemed to be close behind you, as his hips continued battering into your own, losing any rhythm as he lost himself in the throes of pleasure your body brought. Your hand sped up, forgoing any finesse you once employed on your clit as you tried so desperately to reach your second orgasm of the day.

Unexpectedly, Dante’s hand that wasn’t holding steadfast to your hip curled around your torso, pulling you back to standing upright and straight with your back nestled against his chest. His hand moved upwards towards your face, and his fingers held your jaw, one lone, long finger dipping into your mouth. You bit it, trying with all of your might to use it as a warning message to him that you were so, so close. The change in position, and the certain degree of intimacy it brought with it, was the final element you needed to reach your end. With a loud cry, you bit down harder on his finger and reached your climax- and hard, as a wave of relief washed over you so hard that you were sure if Dante wasn’t holding you upright, you’d topple over.

Dante followed your lead, toppling into his own orgasm and his hips pushed against your ass so hard that it hurt, his cock burrowing as deep into you as he possibly could. He burrowed his face into the top of your head, using your hair as a means to muffle his own groan of pleasure. You could feel his hips jolt slightly as each spurt of his cum made its way inside of you. After what felt like an eternity, he began to release you, first sliding his hand away from your face before guiding his cock out of you. He held you close to him still, and you could feel the fact that he was still hard pressing against you.

Another moment passed before either of you spoke. “I can wash you off now, babe,” Dante said as he pressed a sweet kiss to the edge of your face.

Smiling, you turned around to look at him face on, enjoying the slightly pink flush to his face. “Okay, sure,” you nodded as you reached beyond him to the stainless steel shower shelf hanging off the shower head to grab a bar of soap, which you then handed it to him.

Dante lathered it up in his hands, creating a solid amount of soap bubbles before reaching out and grabbing your tits and massaging them. Clearly, he had another thing in mind before you both actually got clean. His hands squeezed the tissue of your breast, making you gasp as you watched the look of aroused concentration on his face. His fingers zeroed in on your nipple, pinching the tender area between his thumb and index finger, making your back arch into the sensation. A beginning stir of renewed interest started brewing in your stomach, and while you were tired now, you certainly weren’t going to deny Dante’s thinly veiled attempt in starting up another round.

Good thing your water bill was included in your apartment’s monthly rent. 

[lumiileth]

CHAPTER 2: let you break my heart again

CHAPTER 1

pairing: Shanks x Marine!Reader, Garp’s Daughter!Reader, Familial!Luffy x Reader, Familial!Ace

tags: Bittersweet, Angst, Unrequited Love, Angst, Non-Sexual Tension, No Use of Y/N, (Extra info on the replies!)

Egghead spoiler warnings

word count: 7.200

summary: She was an anchor, foolishly reaching for the tide, but Shanks was the sea—vast, restless, and never meant to be caught.

or: She realized that Shanks and Luffy were the same - both too wild and free-spirited to be held back, they were always going to chase their dreams, while she just had to accept being left behind.

Foosha Village

12 years before canon

Luffy had said something that made her stop in her tracks, something loud and offhand, like most things he said, but this one stuck.

“Ace is the Pirate King’s son!”

She blinked. At first, she just stared at Luffy, deadpanned, assuming it was just another one of his dramatic exaggerations. But the more she thought about it… the more it made no sense. There was a purge of newborns after the Pirate King was executed, but somehow she realized that Ace did bear a faint resemblance to Roger, with a hint of feminine features. 

“You sure he’s Roger’s kid?” she asked, trying to keep her voice flat, feigning indifference. But her heart was already racing with a strange excitement. She hadn’t spoken much to Ace since he’d shown up; most of her time was still wrapped around her Marine duties. And when she came back, it felt like Luffy had already found his own family.

“Yeah!” Luffy nodded emphatically, mouth full, rice flying. “He hates it, though. But that’s just stupid!” he declared, banging his cup on the table. “His dad is COOL! ”

“But I’ll be cooler!” 

She couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips as she set down a plate of meat in front of him.

And then, just like that, it was gone and Luffy scrambled.

“I’m gonna go!!!” Luffy shouted, shoving the last of his food into his mouth before bolting out the door with the speed only a boy like him could manage.

She looked down at the empty dishes he'd left behind.

Her chest twisted.

It was a strange ache, half-hurt, half-warmth. Luffy had found his brothers. (brother, she reminded herself of the loss, brother, she repeated) He didn’t wait for her to come back to give him a family. He’d found one on his own.

And even if it stung a little… It also made her proud.

She decides to try and talk to Ace if given the chance.

Dadan called out her name.

“I didn’t know you were back!” Dadan said, despite her fear of Garp, she had always liked his daughter, she might even say that she thinks of her as her own daughter.

“Been here a few days,” she replied, gently pulling away from the hug. “I just didn’t have time to drop by. Sorry.”

Dadan lit a cigarette, leaned against the rickety door frame of her house, and exhaled. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks. You’re glowing as always.” She laughed dryly. 

“Hah! That’s the alcohol,” Dadan smirked. “So, are ya hanging for a while, or just passing through?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she looked out toward the trees where distant laughter echoed, Luffy’s, maybe Ace’s too. 

“Not sure, my transponder snail is a bit lethargic, so I left her alone” she said at last. “If I’m getting calls from work, I wouldn't know.”

A silence settled between them before she broke it again.

“So. Ace and Luffy.”

Dadan let out a small laugh, flicking ash into the dirt. “Thank you for taking care of them, I know it’s hard, It’s probably like holding back two hurricanes with a wet mop.”

“You’re not wrong.” Dadan smiled, her expression softening. “But they grew on me. Those boys… they’re gonna tear the world apart someday. In the best way.”

“It’s weird seeing you openly be affectionate of these boys,” She smirked at Dadan,  who widened her eyes, looking like she was caught red handed, “So you do care!” 

“I DON’T!” 

“AUNTIEEEEE!”

Luffy’s voice rang out across the clearing like a cannonball, full of mischief and raw enthusiasm. His rubber arms shot forward, grabbing at her shoulders as he launched himself toward her with a force that would’ve knocked any other adult straight off their feet.

She caught him, barely. Her boots scraped back against the dirt trail as she braced herself.

“Luffy—ow! That’s my shoulder, not a slingshot target,” she grumbled, but she didn’t push him away. If anything, she allowed herself to smile just a little at the boy now clinging to her with the kind of desperation only Luffy could muster.

“Come on, come on, pleaaaase train Ace and me!” he beamed up at her, eyes sparkling with that wide, reckless hope of his.

She raised a brow. “Isn’t Garp training you guys?”

“He’s not here! ” Luffy complained, flailing his arms with cartoonish dramatics. “And when he is, he’s scary! He punches too hard, and he threw me into a mountain last week!”

“That sounds tamer than when he trained me,” she said dryly, crossing her arms.

“But you’re better! You’re cool! And you don’t yell as much!”

He gave her that look. That stupid, effective look. Big round eyes, quivering lip, like the entire world would end if she said no.

She sighed and glanced past him to where Ace stood a few feet away, arms crossed and expression unreadable. But there was a flicker in his eyes, curiosity, maybe? Or a silent challenge.

“I don’t know…” she started, only for Luffy to up the ante by grabbing her hands with both of his and practically shaking her. “Pleeaase, Auntie! We’ll be so good!”

She stared down at him, then she turned toward Ace. “What about you? You okay with this?”

Ace shrugged, but there was a spark of something almost eager behind the casual tone.

“I don’t care, I just want to get stronger,” he said. “If you’re gonna teach us anything, I’ll take it seriously.”

She folded her arms, pretending to consider. “I’m not going easy on either of you.”

“YEAHHHH!” Luffy whooped, already running circles around her. “You’re the best!!”

Along the way, they had realized, maybe, just maybe, her training was slightly harsher than Garp. 

“You’re worse than Gramps!” Luffy cried through a mouthful of food, crumbs spilling onto his lap as he stuffed his face with roasted meat.

“You’re the one who kept slacking off,” she muttered, unfazed, casually tossing a fruit toward Ace, who caught it one-handed.

The three of them were seated around a small fire, the meat they’d hunted sizzling faintly on flat stones and as per usual, Luffy fell asleep after taking in almost all of their food, he was now sprawled out on the grass, his stomach round.

“So, Ace,” she started casually, “I hea—”

“Why’d ya become a Marine?” Ace interrupted, sharp and unexpected.

She blinked, the firelight casting flickers across her face as the question settled between them. It wasn’t an accusation, but it was laced with curiosity. A question he probably couldn’t ask Garp, especially not to Luffy.

“As much as Garp yells at us to be Marines, I don’t think he can force us,” Ace added, picking at the edge of the eaten watermelon, eyes not meeting hers. “You’re strong. You could’ve just said no. Become a pirate. Do whatever you want. Was being a Marine your dream? Who in their right mind dreams of being a Marine?”

She exhaled slowly, watching the embers dance in the pit. “You’re asking a lot of questions tonight.”

Ace shrugged but went quiet, waiting.

“…To answer you,” she said at last, her voice even but distant, “I couldn’t throw away everything Garp gave me. As much as I wanted freedom, I couldn’t walk away from the man who raised me.”

She thought of Garp’s face when Dragon left. The grief buried under fury. The quiet in the house that followed.

“I don’t agree with the system. I’ve seen its ugliness more than most. But Garp… he believed in the good parts. He wanted me to be safe. To be strong. I joined for him… and because I thought maybe I could do some good.”

Ace stayed still, his expression unreadable.

“But my best… it’s not something big or heroic,” she continued, a small, bitter smile tugging at her lips. “I realized I can’t change the world. I just try to keep the people I love safe.”

She hated being a Marine, but she loved her family more, even when it sometimes felt unreciprocated. 

“So you’re okay with me and Luffy becoming pirates?” Ace finally asked, quieter now. Less defiant. Seeking something, permission, maybe. Understanding.

She looked at him, really looked, and saw the way his jaw tensed, the flicker of worry in his eyes despite his tough exterior. He wanted her blessing.

“I want you both to be free,” she said softly. “No matter what path that is. If being a pirate gives you that freedom… then I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Ace turned to face the other way, but she can tell that he was flushing from the way the tip of his ears turned red. 

If Ace can ask questions, she can too. She was always curious if what Luffy had told her was ture or not. 

“Say,” she began gently, testing the waters, “I heard something from Luffy.”

Ace shifted where he sat, not looking at her. “Yeah?”

She hesitated for a moment, then continued, “That your father was Gol D. Roger… Is that true?”

The change in Ace was immediate. His shoulders tensed, his jaw tightened, and the flicker of peace in his eyes vanished. “Luffy told you that?” His voice was low, guarded.

“Yep,” she said, almost playfully, as if trying to soften the blow.

“That loudmouth…” Ace muttered, burying his face in his arms. Shame crept into his voice. “Of course he’d blab to someone else.”

She watched him carefully. The shift in his body language. The fear. The instinct to hide.

“Before you get angry,” she said calmly, standing up as she sat herself closer beside him, close enough that their knees almost touched. 

“he wasn’t trying to out you. He was just rambling. Bragging about wanting to be Pirate King, like always.”

Ace didn’t respond.

“Go on, then,” he muttered bitterly after a long pause, eyes still downcast. “Say it. Say you don’t believe it. Or that someone like Roger shouldn’t have had a kid in the first place. That I’ve got the devil’s blood or whatever crap people like to throw around.”

Her heart ached for him. This boy, so full of fire and will, still carried the weight of a name he never asked for. She ponders on what she should say next.

“I knew your father,” she said softly.

Ace’s head snapped toward her. “...What?”

“I was a stowaway on his ship when I was young and he took me in right then and there! An idiotic move seeing that my dad was Monkey D. Garp, not that he knew, anywaaays…” She rambled on.

Ace said nothing, but his gaze didn’t move from her face.

“I don’t know what you went through, Ace,” she continued, “truly. But you should know this, if your father had known you, if he’d had the chance… I think he would’ve loved you with everything he had.”

“A demon like that could never love his own child,” Ace muttered, his voice rough with a mix of anger and something quieter, something close to doubt.

But even as the words left his mouth, they didn’t settle like truth. They felt… empty. The kind of thing you say over and over until you start believing it. Except, for the first time, Ace wasn’t sure he did.

She didn’t speak right away. Just sat there, letting the silence work its way through the heaviness between them.

“You don’t sound convinced,” she finally said, quiet but firm.

Ace scoffed. “I have to.”

Her gaze flicked toward him, sharp yet gentle. “Why? Because it’s easier to hate him than to wonder what could’ve been?”

Ace clenched his fists in the dirt beneath them, jaw tightening. He looked like he wanted to yell, or run, or break something, but he didn’t. He just breathed. Shaky and uneven.

“You’re the first person,” he said slowly, “who’s ever talked about him like that. Like he was a person. Not a monster. Not a pirate king. Just... a man.”

“I didn’t know him long,” she admitted, “but I knew enough. He laughed too loud, ate too much, trusted people too easily, and risked his life for his crew. He wasn’t perfect. He was far from it. But he loved this world, and that’s why… he would’ve loved you, too.”

Ace blinked hard, head turned away as his voice cracked, “I don’t know if I could’ve loved him.”

She gently nudged his shoulder. “You don’t have to. But maybe, you can stop hating yourself because of him.”

He looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment, he seemed so much younger than he usually let himself be.

“Thanks.” It was curt and mannerless, but she knew he meant well. 

“Don’t mention it, kid.”

Oro Jackson

30 years ago

“Say, Lass,” Roger called out, his voice booming warmly as he approached the girl seated cross-legged on a barrel near the ship’s edge. The salty breeze tousled her hair, but her gaze remained locked on the ocean. “Aren’t ya gonna tell me where you came from?”

She didn’t look back, only shrugged. “You never asked, old man.”

Roger barked out a hearty laugh. “Fair enough! So? Where’s home?”

“The East Blue,” she replied simply, her voice carried on the wind.

Roger whistled, his grin widening. “Well, I’ll be damned. What do you know, we’ve got more in common than I thought!”

“You’re from the East Blue?” She finally turned to face him, eyes wide with disbelief. The man on his way to becoming the best pirate this world has ever seen, hailed from what is considered as the weakest blue?

“Born and raised,” he said proudly, jabbing his thumb to his chest. “Loguetown. Polestar Islands.”

Her mouth parted slightly. “Foosha Village. Dawn Island.”

Roger chuckled. “Now that you’ve had a taste of the world, the East Blue must feel a little smaller, huh?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes wandered back to the sea, shimmering beneath the moonlight. But something in her expression had changed, a flicker of awe, of longing, of possibility.

“The sea feels alive,” she murmured. “Like it’s calling.”

Roger smiled at that, his expression softening beneath the shadow of his hat. “That’s the pull, Lass. The sea only calls the wild ones.”

“Wild, huh?” she echoed, her lips quirking upward.

“You wouldn’t be on this ship if you weren’t.”

“Guess that’s true,” she murmured, her voice lighter now, like the sea breeze itself.

Roger leaned against the railing beside her, arms crossed as he watched the same vast sea. “You wanna sail your own ship one day?”

She blinked, surprised by the question. It hadn’t crossed her mind, not really. Not seriously.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly, her legs swinging off the barrel now. “I don’t think I’d make a good captain.”

Roger glanced sideways at her, but didn’t say anything. He just nodded, understanding in his silence.

“But I think about it sometimes,” she admitted, “A ship of my own. A crew. But where would I even go? What would I be looking for?”

“Freedom,” Roger said,  like it was the easiest answer in the world, his smile brighter than the moon in the sky.  “That’s what we all want, isn’t it?”

She smiled at that, soft and tired. “Then maybe I already found it.”

Roger laughed again, deep and genuine. “Don’t be so sure. The sea’s got a way of making you chase after more, even when you think you’ve got everything you need.”

She didn’t respond right away. But as the waves gently rocked the Oro Jackson beneath them, she glanced out at the world again and wondered.

Maybe one day, when she wasn’t just a stowaway or a tagalong, when she wasn’t behind closed doors surrounded by white uniforms, when she wasn’t faced and burdened with a father’s dream, maybe the sea would call her in a different way.

“Maybe,” she said quietly. “One day.”

“Ms. Marine-chan,” Makino’s voice called out gently through a knock on the wooden door. The teasing nickname lingered in the air, soft and familiar. “Ace is about to leave. Aren’t you going to come see him off?”

“That’s early,” she responded from within, though her voice came out raspier than intended. She held back a cough, stifling it with the back of her hand. The last thing she wanted was Makino’s worry. “Yeah, I’ll come. Is Dadan still pretending she doesn’t care?”

Makino gave a knowing smile just as the door creaked open, revealing the older woman with a faint sheen of sweat on her brow.

“She’s still in denial,” Makino laughed lightly, adjusting the basket in her hands. “I brought something. I peeled one of your tangerines earlier, by the way. It's sweet!”

She handed over the basket and watched as the older woman took it with a small, amused smile.

“That’s sweet of you. Thank you,” she said, plucking a slice and popping it into her mouth before turning to place the basket gently on her table. 

“Alright,” she said, exhaling softly as she reached for her coat, “Let’s go see Ace.”

They walked towards the outskirts of the forest, Ace ventured out not on the official harbor of the island, not when people don’t know who he is.

“Take care, Aceeeee!” she heard Luffy shout, his tiny arms flailing wildly as he waved with every ounce of energy he had.

“Yeah!” Ace called back, just as loud, grinning from ear to ear as his small dinghy drifted further down the river. “See you, Luffy! I’m heading out!”

“I’ll be a lot stronger when I leave in three years!” Luffy yelled with bright conviction, the kind only a child with a dream could have.

Ace’s gaze lingered, now not on Luffy, but on the woman standing quietly beside him. The woman who wasn’t his mother, but who had done more for his heart than most ever could. She had believed in him. Spoke kindly of the father he once despised. Showed him warmth, understanding.

Ace shouted her name.

“Thank you… for everything you’ve done!” Ace shouted suddenly, his voice cracking through the air. 

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. She smiled, but it wavered.

“Dadan raised you more than I did, boy!” she shouted back, voice rough with unshed emotion. She tried to wave him off with a scoff, like this was just another casual goodbye, but the lump in her throat was impossible to swallow.

“Ya both did!” Ace yelled. “Thank you again!”

“Good luck, Ace!” she called, the words almost breaking in her chest.

“Bye, Ace!” Makino and a few others chimed in beside her.. “Don’t catch a cold!”

“You just wait!” Ace’s voice rang out once more. “I’ll make my name soon!”

And just like that, just like Shanks, just like Dragon, another person she loved disappeared into the horizon.

Another piece of her heart left to chase the sea.

“You’re leaving?”

Mayor Woop Slap stood at the doorway of her small home. It had always been quiet, always a little empty, but now it felt hollow, it was far emptier than usual.

“I’m a Marine,” she replied simply, folding a shirt into her half-packed bag. “I’m always leaving.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said, the weariness in his voice sharper than before. He stepped inside and slowly lowered himself into one of the rickety wooden chairs by her table, watching her methodically stuff the rest of her belongings into the bag. Essentials. 

He exhaled. “What happened, lass?”

She paused for a moment, hand still on the bag. Then, in a quieter voice:

“Luffy didn’t cry.”

Mayor Woop Slap blinked, confused.

“When Ace left,” she clarified, her voice strained but steady. “Luffy didn’t cry.”

She wanted to. She nearly did. If she had blinked, the tears might’ve slipped free. But Luffy? He was smiling.

Big, wide, bright-eyed.

Excited about the future, about setting out, about becoming stronger.

She remembered a time when he cried. When Shanks left, he’d cried. That memory was seared into her mind: the small boy with the straw hat too big for his head, screaming on the dock towards a man she had affections for.

But that wasn’t Luffy anymore.

That boy had grown.

Now, if she left, he wouldn’t cry. He’d see it as a challenge. As a step closer to the sea. He’d chase her, not to hold her back, but to find her out there. To cross paths, to brag about his crew, to laugh and share stories with Ace under the sun.

“He’s grown.” She whispered it to no one in particular, but her heart squeezed around the truth and for the first time, she realized—

He didn’t need her anymore.

“So now, ya leaving for good?” Mayor Woop Slap leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as he studied the young woman before him, the one who used to run barefoot through the village, covered in dirt and mischief, now dressed in something neat, her pressed Marine coat not worn, it was folded and on her bed.

She paused.

“I wouldn’t say for good,” she said finally, her voice steady, but she couldn’t look him in the eyes. Because even she wasn’t sure she believed it.

“You’ve always said you’d settle down here someday,” he reminded her gently.

She smiled. “Plans change, Mayor.”

“Luffy woul—”

“Luffy wouldn’t mind,” she cut in quickly, almost too quickly. A soft smile bloomed across her face as she turned her gaze to the window, where the wind rustled the trees outside. “He’s got his dream now. A crew to find. Seas to conquer. Who am I in his grand adventure?”

Mayor Woop Slap studied her. “Does Garp know?”

Her breath hitched. “Huh?”

“Does he know?” he repeated, more quietly this time, his voice weighed down with understanding.

She gripped the edge of the table and swallowed hard.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she muttered, her tone just a little too rehearsed.

The room was quiet, filled only by the creaking of the wooden beams above them. Woop Slap didn’t press further. He just nodded, slow and grim.

“Makino’s worried too, you know,” he added, softer now. “She said you haven’t been by in weeks, just coming in and going, just to buy a drink for yourself.”

“I’ve been busy,” she said with a half-hearted shrug. “Marine work.”

“She thinks you’ve been avoiding Luffy.”

Her mouth tightened. “Maybe I have.”

“You know,” Woop Slap said after a pause, “that boy’s not stupid.” He paused again, realizing he’s wrong, “Okay, he’s an idiot and loud, wild, even more, but something about that boy means well..”

She walked over to the door and picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

“That’s fine,” she said, turning the knob. “He’s gonna find me someday and he’s gonna introduce me to his beloved crew and I’d probably cry from being too proud of him or something, I thought of this, y’know.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she opened the door to the cool dawn air and stood in the doorway for a moment, as if trying to remember something she couldn’t quite grasp.

“Take care of them, Mayor,” she said, not turning around. “Take care of my home.”

Mayor Woop Slap knew she didn’t mean her house.

Everything changed, just from one simple mistake.

Isolated, alone, just like she liked, but why is this man in front of her, at her stay?

“Dragon,” she breathed, as if tasting the name for the first time in years. It sat strangely on her tongue, familiar, yet distant. “Why are you here?”

An exasperated sigh escaped her lips. Even breathing has become a chore these days.

“Luffy isn’t with me,” she added, her voice flat. “But he’s fine. Wants to be a pirate. Good for him.” She paused.

“I’m not here for Luffy,” Dragon replied, voice as steady as ever, but she could hear the undercurrent of something else. Concern. Guilt. Maybe both. His eyes, usually unreadable, watched her too closely for her liking.

“Then?” she asked coldly, unwilling to entertain hope.

“I’m here for you.”

She scoffed, sharp, bitter, disbelieving. “Don’t give me that crap,” she snapped. With a shaky exhale, she pushed off the bed, staggering slightly before finding her footing. Even now, she refused to appear weak in front of him. Especially in front of him.

He had been her first heartbreak—not as a lover, but as a brother.

He chose the Revolution over their family. Over her. 

She coughed harder, lurched forward in a way Dragon had never seen, he stilled as he stared.

“What?” she said, voice laced with venom and weariness. “Surprised the girl Garp trained like a damn warhound turned out like this?”

There was a pause. Then Dragon said, quietly but firmly, “Garp would’ve never let what they did to you happen.”

That struck something deep. Her jaw clenched, eyes burning—not with tears, but something colder.

“What do you know?” She clenched her hands that were on her side.

“You weren’t there,” She said, barely a whisper. “Neither of you were.”

She clenched her fists tighter and ushering Dragon to come into the humble abode, it was small, it wasn’t a proper house even, but it was enough for her to get by. She glanced at Dragon, who just stood there, looking at her as if she was some form of entertainment.

“How did you know I was here?”

“It took awhile, but I have eyes everywhere.” 

Silence filled the air once more, she hated this, hated that Dragon was calculating something in which she had no idea of, the air around started circling while the rain turned thunderous. 

“Stop that,” She glared at her older brother, even then, they could still be bickering like siblings, no matter how long time has passed, and contrary to what she thinks, Dragon had always had the best interest for her. 

“Also,” she snapped, finally lifting her gaze, eyes blazing, “stop staring at me. Tell me, why are you really here?”

Dragon didn’t flinch. Instead, his voice came steady, deceptively calm, “How was everyone at the village?”

Of all the questions, that was the last she expected.

He was still Dragon, still the stoic, calculated revolutionary. But for a moment, she could see through the cracks. He missed it—home. Their village. The peace they once thought would last.

At least, that’s what she hoped.

“They’re fine,” she replied, voice clipped, unwilling to give him more than he deserved. “They’re doing fine.”

But her brows furrowed. Why ask about the village now? Unless—

“A close confidant of mine died a while back,” Dragon said slowly, the shadows in his voice sharpening. “She was captured by the Celestial Dragons. Died from an experimentation’s side effect… She was someone’s… eighth wife. Before she passed, she left behind her child, she’s growing up with the same side effects.”

She didn’t respond at first. Only stared, a distant memory tugged at her, half-forgotten and buried deep.

“When she escaped and called,” Dragon continued, slower now. “Your name came up.”

That made her blink. Once. Twice. Then a bitter sigh escaped her lips.

“I’m not in cahoots with them,” she said. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

But Dragon wasn’t satisfied. He moved suddenly, grabbing her hand, holding her with more desperation than force. His voice dropped to a growl, “You know exactly what I’m asking.”

“No,” she hissed, trying to pull back. “I wasn’t a wife. I wasn’t subjected to something that cruel.”

It was a lie. Or, at least, a half-truth.

She was the other thing.

And she would never say it—not to Dragon, not even to Garp. Especially not to them.

Dragon stared at her like he was trying to pull the truth from her soul.

“Are you like this because of what they did to you?” he finally asked, voice low.

“No!” Her voice cracked on impact. Raw. Furious. Desperate. “It’s entirely different.”

But even as she said it, her hands trembled. The kind of trembling that doesn’t come from weakness, but from the exhaustion of holding back too much for too long.

“When was the last time you went back to the village?” Dragon asked, his arms folded, voice calm but edged with something deeper. “You told me you didn’t want Luffy to be alone… so why are you here? Come with us. Join the Revolutionaries. We can change things, bring justice to places no one else dares to see.”

She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she rose from the bed slowly, her bare feet brushing against the cold floor. With trembling hands, she grabbed the front of Dragon’s worn green cloak, clutching it as if she could somehow shake the hypocrisy out of him.

“How dare you,” she said, voice thick with disbelief. “How dare you talk about Luffy being alone.”

Her fists clenched tighter around the fabric. She looked up at him, eyes swimming with unshed tears, not weak, never weak, but exhausted.

“You say that like you weren’t the one who left. You left everything. You don’t get to say that to me,” she spat. “ Me. ”

The last word echoed between them like a punch.

“You only ever cared about the Revolution,” she continued, her voice rising. “If Ginny—” her voice faltered at the name, and it tasted bitter on her tongue, “—if Ginny hadn’t said my name, would you even be standing here right now?”

Her nails dug into the fabric of his cloak. “After everything I went through, everything they did, you think I’d just come crawling back to your cause?” Her voice cracked.

She had once hoped that, just once, someone from her family would come for her .

But Garp had his unwavering loyalty to the Marines, a system that built itself on silence and suppression. Even if he didn’t participate in its cruelty, he never stopped it either.

And Dragon… Dragon had the Revolution. Justice on a grand scale. Justice for the world. Never just for her alone.

And Sh—

“I’m not the only one Luffy has,” she said suddenly, voice quiet, a shift in tone.

Her hands loosened, releasing his cloak. She stepped back.

“He found his own family,” she continued, almost fondly. “You didn’t ask, but… he has brothers. Two of them, I guess… One now.”

She smiled softly, sadly.

“I’m just his aunt. And no matter how much I tried, no matter how much I raised him, nothing will compare to the bond he has with those two boys.” Her voice trembled slightly. “He’s going to be a pirate. He’ll leave when he’s seventeen. I can’t stop him.”

She didn’t need to say it, but it hung there anyway.

Just like you. Just like all of you.

Another person she loved, destined to leave her behind.

She remembered all the little moments Luffy had chosen others over her. The times he chased after Sabo and Ace, leaving her behind in the trees. The nights he rambled on and on about Shanks, eyes glowing with hero worship, until she wondered if he even remembered how she used to sing him lullabies when he had nightmares.

And in those moments, the truth settled in like fog.

She wasn’t the person in his life.

But Luffy—oh, Luffy—he was everything in hers.

“I can’t stop him,” She reiterates, clutching own shirt, over her heart, a feeling of heaviness washing through her.  “And I won’t,” 

Oro Jackson

30 years ago

“Hey,” Shanks started, his voice light with curiosity as he stared up at the sky. “If you could do anything in the world… what would it be?”

They were lying on the deck of the Oro Jackson, the ship gently rocking beneath them as it sailed through calm waters. The stars above glittered like a sea of fireflies. Buggy snored a few feet away, limbs sprawled out in a mess of blankets and dramatic snoozing.

“Hm…” she hummed thoughtfully, brows furrowed in concentration. “Anything in the world?”

“Yeah. Anything,” Shanks grinned, rolling onto his side to look at her.

“Then I guess…” she trailed off, eyes locked on the stars above, “Anywhere.”

“‘Anywhere’ isn’t something you do, stupid,” Shanks chuckled, reaching over to ruffle her dark hair with affection.

She pouted and swatted at his hand, but not too hard.

“I don’t care,” she admitted, voice soft. “As long as I’m with you guys, it doesn’t really matter what I do. Anywhere would be enough.”

Her eyes sparkled beneath the starlight, and for a moment, Shanks forgot how to breathe.

“The sea sure is pretty,” she added.

“Yeah…” Shanks murmured, though he wasn’t looking at the sea, his gaze stayed fixed on her, his expression a little more serious now, a little softer.

“It’s pretty alright.”

Blood coated her hands. It dripped from her fingertips, splattered across her boots, and soaked through the once-pristine white shirt she was wearing. Crimson trailed along the cracked cobblestones beneath her feet. 

The air was thick, still, eerie in its silence. There were no screams, no sirens. No approaching Marine warships, no hurried footsteps of panicked bystanders.

Just bodies. Dozens of them. All fallen in grotesque stillness, twisted mid-motion. Among them, one stood out: a man slumped at the base of the desecrated fountain, clad in the unmistakable attire of a Celestial Dragon. His glass helmet was shattered, the remnants glinting like ice around his pale, lifeless face.

The sun hung low, casting long shadows across. It should have been beautiful, serene even, but the bloodied scene turned it into something else. Something wrong. The stench of iron and ozone lingered in the air.

“Boss?” Lucky Roux’s voice cracked through the silence, uncertain. Even he, always the cheerful, carefree one, looked disturbed, his eyes wide as he took in the carnage.

“You guys stand back,” Shanks said quietly, his tone hard in a way rarely heard. He stepped forward, slowly. Deliberately. His crew obeyed without hesitation. “I’ll handle this.” 

She stood at the center of it all, alone, shoulders tight, breath shallow, her face turned slightly toward the dying light of the sky. Her knuckles were scraped raw, arms trembling from restraint more than fatigue.

And yet, the moment she heard his voice—

“Look at this,” Shanks called her name gently, as if afraid he might break her with too much weight behind the word. “What happened here?”

She turned slowly.

Her face, once furrowed with fury or grief, or perhaps both, softened in recognition. That voice. That familiar drawl, steady as the sea and just as endless. It had been years since she'd last heard it, but time did little to dull its comfort.

She dropped the Celestial Dragon’s body like it was nothing more than trash.

Shanks didn’t flinch. He never had, not even when she got like this. But something about the way she looked now, standing ankle-deep in blood with her hands still faintly glowing with Haki, made his heart twist.

No Marines. No Cipher Pol. No Navy dogs on the horizon.

Not even an admiral.

And yet a Celestial Dragon was dead.

“Shanks.”

Her voice was quiet. Hoarse. Almost like it hurt to say it.

Only now did she seem to fully register the chaos surrounding her , the mangled bodies, the blood drying on her clothes. 

She was suddenly hyper aware of every breath she took. But still, her eyes didn’t waver from the red-haired man before her.

That hair.

It reminded her of them . It wasn’t recent that she found out about Shanks, she never knew Shanks came from there. Not until much later. He knew her kin, her pain, and still never told her. That betrayal sat bitter at the base of her throat, but this wasn’t the time.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was still clipped, tight.

“Can’t I greet my favorite Marine?” Shanks offered with a half-hearted grin. It was lighthearted on the surface, but not a single muscle in his body was relaxed. His stance was measured. Ready. Even his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Long time no see, Ms. Marine, how are you?”

He walked forward, and with each step, the air thickened with the pressure of Haki, his own Haoshoku clashing faintly against hers. It wasn’t hostile, but it was undeniable. The ground beneath them groaned as if to bear witness to what could happen if they didn’t tread carefully.

Shanks sensed that some of his newer crew members collapsed behind him on their ship, unable to bear the weight of it.

“You’re leaking too much,” she muttered, not looking back at the chaos behind him.

“Right back at you,” Shanks replied dryly. “Half my men are face-down and we haven’t even talked yet.”

Silence again. Not awkward, just... heavy.

“I didn’t think you were the type to kill a Celestial Dragon out in the open like this,” Shanks said eventually, his voice low, gesturing with a small nod toward the bloodied corpse slumped on the stone pavement.

She didn’t look away.

“Didn’t think I’d go this far, to be honest,” she muttered, her breath still unsteady, “Something snapped, I...”

Around them, the air still hung heavy with the iron scent of blood. It was eerily quiet now, but still she realized that this wasn’t a place to linger.

She finally glanced down at her hands, still faintly glowing with the remnants of her power, slick with crimson. Reality began to settle in. The Celestial Dragon lay still. Dead. The world government wouldn’t let this go unpunished.

“It’s not safe here,” she murmured, wiping her palm against her coat with a grimace. “I have to go.”

Shanks looked at her hands, still bloodstained, trembling with something deeper than exhaustion.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly.

She stared at him. “What?”

“Not forever,” he clarified. “Just for a while. You need to disappear. At least until the heat dies down.”

“I’m not afraid of this.”

“I know,” he said, his voice gentle. “You were never afraid of anything, were you?”

Shanks smiled sadly. “But you think I want to watch them erase you? You think I haven’t seen what happens to people who stand up to them ?”

She didn’t respond. Her jaw tightened. Her whole body was wound tight, like the wrong word could make her snap.

But Shanks didn’t move closer. He just let the weight of his words hang between them, steady as the sea.

The sea he had chosen over her. 

“Shanks,” She had whispered, loud enough for Shanks to hear, “I’m dying.”

Shanks’ smile faltered.

Just slightly.

Enough for her to notice.

The weight of her words settled like lead between them. The battlefield, the blood, the bodies, suddenly all of it dimmed beneath the gravity of what she had just confessed.

“I’m dying,” she said again, this time with a strange calm. Not a plea. Not even sorrow. Just… fact.

Shanks’ brows pulled together. “What are you talking about?” Shanks’ fists clenched at his sides. “Have you told anyone ?”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Of course she hadn’t.

“That’s why you’re doing all this,” he said, looking at the carnage around them. “You think if you go out swinging, it’ll mean something.”

“No," She shook her head, but gave no explanation, "you wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”

Shanks stepped even closer now. Close enough to see the cracks in her mask, the tremble in her lips, he wasn’t sure if that was from adrenaline or some sort of weakness.

“You always felt too much,” he said softly. “Even back then. That’s what made you beautiful.”

“Don’t even start, Red-haired,” She spat out, not wanting for old feelings to resurface, but she knew why Shanks was saying nonsense, “Why are you even here, go back to your precious Red Force,” 

“I’m not letting you die here,” Shanks said with finality. “Not like this. Not alone. Not in blood.”

Her eyes met his. And for a brief moment, she looked like that girl again. The one who laughed too loud. Who dared to dream, even when dreaming was a crime for herself at that time. 

“Shanks, that’s not why I told you.” She closed her eyes, feeling too much.

Her voice was low, ragged, as her bloodied fingers curled into the fabric of his coat, dragging him closer. Her breath ghosted just shy of his lips, had the moment been different, it might’ve meant something else entirely.

“I’m not your captain,” she said through clenched teeth, each word laced with bitterness. Her grip on him tightened. “I will never be your captain.”

Shanks didn’t speak. He understood. This wasn’t a moment for argument, this was her flare, her fire still burning even as her strength faded. Letting her talk was the only right thing to do.

“Don’t you dare,” she rasped, drawing in a breath that trembled, “don’t you ever dare let my body fall into the hands of those World Government bastards. Do you hear me?”

Shanks’s expression darkened, but he remained silent, his eyes steady on hers.

“Shanks.” Her voice cracked, and something unfamiliar flashed across her eyes, grief, anger, betrayal. Something raw. “As much as you hurt me… as much as you humiliated me…The times where you forced me to even think about leaving Foosha for good, but even then…”

She faltered, her knees buckling. Shanks caught her before she could fall.

“I trust you more than anyone,” she breathed, almost like a confession. “More than Dragon. More than Garp.”

"So that's why I want you to—"

And that was the truth that broke her, Shanks widened his eyes at the revelation she had just spat out.

This woman, the Vice Admiral feared across seas, the sister of the world’s most wanted man, the grandchild of a Marine legend, was strong. She wielded all three forms of Haki. She had once sailed under the Pirate King (Though as a mere stowaway)

She was strong.

Until she wasn’t.

As the tears finally fell, they didn’t fall from weakness, but from the weight of everything she was never allowed to say. It cascaded to her bloodstained cheeks, she faltered.

All that strength, the kind that had carried nations on her back, that had stared down gods and monsters, trembled now in the space between her and Shanks.

“I have no idea how and why you’re here, but I trust you , Shanks,” she whispered again, as if saying it louder would make it too real, too dangerous. “So don’t… don’t let them get their hands on me, don’t you dare let them near me…”

Shanks swallowed hard. Her grip on him was iron, trembling but stubborn.

“I won’t,” he said at last. “Not a damn bone of you will be theirs.”

Her head dropped forward, resting against his shoulder now, the weight of her frame sinking into his. She wasn’t unconscious, but she was tired. Soul-tired.

“You always did talk too much,” he murmured into her hair, voice low, trying to steady her. His coat draped itself around her shoulders like instinct, like memory. “You could’ve just said you wanted me to stay.”

“Shut up,” she muttered weakly, and he almost smiled.

The air around them was heavy still, tainted with blood and silence, but it was no longer suffocating.

Behind him, Lucky Roux and Yasopp kept their distance. Not out of fear. But reverence. They knew better than to interrupt this kind of moment.

“Don’t fall asleep on me just yet,” Shanks whispered. “We’ve still got a ship to catch.”

She let out a broken chuckle.

“I just…” she rasped, a trail of blood leaving past her lips, trembling with every word she had forcefully spat out. “Wished I could see Luffy, just one last time.”

And just like that, Shanks’ composure cracked. Just for a second.

Because he knew he wouldn't be able to fulfill her wish.

And so, without another word, he held her tighter. As if that could stop the inevitable. As if memory and history and pain could hold her here.

And for the first time in a long, long while—

Red-Haired Shanks was afraid.

[melwnst]

────── ⋆⋅☆ ILLICIT AFFAIRS, SAM WINCHESTER

summary. Being in love with his brother’s girlfriend drives Sam insane.

↬now playing| illicit affairs by Taylor Swift

⭑.ᐟshould I write a part two where they physically cheat so I can make some people cry for Dean? 🤭

word count. 748

supernatural masterlist/full masterlist

──────────୨ৎ──────────

Sam stares as his soul is being ripped apart from him for the millionth time.

He stares until he feels his heart shatter into smaller parts day after day.

He’s not sure how his heart still works.

He’s not sure he has one anymore, actually.

He stares, he wonders, he tries not to cry because surely he’s being ridiculous.

He’s probably the worst brother in history of brothers.

He knows he doesn’t deserve you.

He sure as hell knows he’ll never have you.

Maybe that part of him that hopes so much is what keeps him alive after all.

The nights spent wondering about what life would look like if only you’d chosen him and not Dean.

The countless dreams and what ifs keeping him awake constantly- wanting nothing more but to just love you.

He thinks maybe loving you from a distance will still help- because at least he still gets to- you’re still an important part of his life- at least he has that- you.

He wants to scream sometimes.

He wants to scream at Dean, because although Sam knows he loves you, you still deserve better.

Maybe not him- but better.

Maybe it’d be easier if you were with anyone else other than his brother.

Maybe he wouldn’t want to scream so much.

He wants to scream at you to wake up and see what’s right there in front of you.

He wants to show you everything he’s ever wanted to give you.

Then- loving from a distance doesn’t feel so right anymore.

It feels itchy, like it’s right there under his skin, like it’s laughing at him, playing, making him believe all this time only to hit him in the face with the reality that it’s truly never going to happen.

Surely you’ll get your happy ending.

Maybe with Dean- probably not.

Maybe with a stranger.

Maybe with Sam in another life.

Sam’s not so sure he deserves a happy ending.

Not with you.

Not with someone else- because truthfully, he doesn’t see himself loving anyone other than you, and that eats at him.

His brain plays tricks sometimes.

He swears he can see you looking from across the room.

Glancing at him and looking away the moment he catches your eye like you didn’t mean to be caught.

He sees you bite your lip when he talks like you can’t hear a single word he says, like you need him in order to breathe.

He probably imagines all of it.

The way you reach for his hand trying to comfort him- as a friend.

The way you look at him when dean’s not looking or not around.

The way your hands get sweaty around him, the beat of your heart fastening and him swearing he can almost hear it.

He’s not okay with the what ifs.

He wants to tell you.

Except he doesn’t.

He doesn’t want to be a horrible brother.

He knows his brother would kill him.

He doesn’t want to break that bond with him, drift away only because he wasn’t fast enough getting the girl of his dreams.

He doesn’t act but he wonders if you feel it.

If you feel the tension, sometimes sexual, sometimes just in the air like unspoken words eating at the both of you like torture.

He wonders if maybe, just maybe there’s a chance out there.

In 20 years.

Right now.

In another life, or universe.

He stares at the ceiling at night thinking about all of the times he could’ve acted on it before you even thought of falling for Dean.

He doesn’t know that you do the same thing.

You think about all of the times he reached for your hand and you pulled back as if you didn’t see it because you were too scared.

You think of the times he’d read to you to help you fall asleep, something Dean’s never done.

The way he’d ramble about his favorite books, geek over his favorite movies not knowing you actually love them just as much.

It’s unspoken but it’s there.

Maybe Dean deserves to know.

Maybe you don’t deserve either of them.

Perhaps the universe is sending you messages with the way you can’t stop thinking about another man.

About Sam.

A small part of you wishes that Dean would just up and leave. Break your heart so Sam can patch it up.

Maybe that makes you a terrible person.

But maybe love is there.

Maybe it’s never going away.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

taglist: @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @l0v33-rey @sunnyteume @that-stanford-girlie @mostlymarvelgirl @bohoooitsme @beelzebzb (comment to be added!🤍)

[bakugotrashpanda]

Summer Lovin’

Chapter 3: Swimsuit (18+)

Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Hawks, Dabi x Reader

⫸ Word Count: 1.6k

⪢ Chapter Select

⪢ Previous Chapter

!!: ocean sex

Bakugou has been waiting for this moment for a long  time.

Bakugou shuffles off towards the beach unnoticed as the rest of the party coddles Kaminari. Fucker had it all and he messed up. How many times would his girlfriend keep taking him back before calling it quits. Probably wouldn’t ever give up on him, the lucky bastard.

And then there’s you. Also dumped, but you seem convinced to throw your own whiskey infused weekend and then move on. There’d be no going back. And your ex’s loss is his gain.

You snatch your flask back and drink out of it. “That’s mine, thank you very much.” His gaze flutters across your lips as your tongue pokes out to clean up the drops you spilled. “This trip was supposed to get my mind off boys this weekend, and yet here you all are.”

“Not my fault you and Kaminari got dumped the same week.”

You balk at his words. “Who said I got dumped?”

“We’re all in the same line of work,” he drawls. When you don’t put two and two, he leans in and pokes your forehead with two fingers. “We all talk.”

“You fucking talked about this? He talked about this?!” you seethe. Taking another heavy swig from the flask. He doesn’t want to carry your drunk ass back. He could, but he doesn’t want to. At least you’re not a flightly drunk. He’d probably have Sero tape you to a chair if he was here and you were threatening to run every three minutes.

“Easy now,” he says and takes the flask from you. Your eyes scream murder though, and you lurch forward to grab it back.

Funny thing about alcohol and sand – they don’t mix as well as beach parties make them seem. Your foot sinks into the soft sand and you trip into Bakugou. Arms and legs tangle on your way down.

Bakugou finds himself on his back out of breath with your head cradled against his chest. There’s no way he’s going to let you hurt yourself. Struggling to rise, you push against his chest and drag yourself into a seated position. On his crotch. Instant stars in his eyes and blood rushing from his head.

Think of the ocean, think of Kaminari’s bitching, think of the TWO HOUR conversation about tea, think about anything except- 

It’s too late. He can feel your warmth on top of his hardening dick. You lean across him, shifting your hips and adding fuel to the fire. The little glimpse down your shirt at the top of your breasts seals his fate. There’s no out thinking this.

It’s not going to take long for you to find out — at this point, how could you not feel?

Sitting ramrod straight, you let out a little squeak. Shit. Embarrassment floods your face. “Are you…?” Bakugou groans as you shift on top of him. 

His hands find your waist and keep you from squirming on top of him. Resisting the urge to grind up against you, he lets out a growl. “What the hell does it look like?”

“Well don’t!”

“Tell that to my dick!” he shouts. Bakugou’s hands are now keeping you in place against him as you try to get off him. “ ‘Sorry you’ve got a hot single chick on top of you, but don’t react!’ ”

“I-” You stop as his words sink in. A smirk graces your lips and fucking hell Bakugou wants to kiss it off you. “You think I’m hot?”

“I’d have to be blind not to see it.” With a teasing rock of his hips, he gives in a little and lets you feel how hot he thinks you are.

“Stop,” your laughter dies, “You don’t really mean it.” Like a baby doe learning to stand for the first time, you wobble your way up but come crashing down as Bakugou’s arm snakes around your waist. Fuck your ex. You of all people shouldn’t be insecure about yourself. Didn’t you know how you pulled every gaze when you entered a room? Even when you were dating, he had his fair share of fantasies.

With a smirk of his own, he cups your cheek and pulls your face down to his. It’s soft at first, his lips brushing over yours. You may think it’s a joke, and he’ll let you pull away if you need to, but all he can think about is exploring your body with his mouth and leaving a trail of marks he can follow. 

Another pass of his mouth against yours, just a ghost of a feeling. A hint of what’s to come. You tremble with sweet anticipation.

“I do though,” he murmurs. Your breath catches in your throat. He locks his mouth onto yours. A gentle moan flows from you.

Finally.

The woody oak flavor of the whiskey spills across your tongues as he presses into you. Your hands tangle into his hair. Pulling you closer, he’s finally able to let his hands explore your topography and map the rises and falls of your body. He’s especially interested in the curve of your ass.

“Not here,” you gasp and break off the kiss. Looking around, your eyes lock onto the rental houses. Laughter rises with the campfire smoke. Too close.

“Where?” He asks. He could probably sneak you into the guys’ house

“Feel like taking a dip?”

“What?” But you’re already taking off your shirt. The lacy black bra doesn’t hide your nipples tightening as the cool summer breeze crosses them. You’re already shimmying out of your shorts by the time Bakugou’s brain catches up with what you’re doing.

“Don’t you have a swimsuit?” he blurts out. Idiot. Why would you say that? You give a little wiggle of your hips as you step out of your pile of discarded clothes.

“Didn’t pack one,” you shrug and saunter towards the water. “So this’ll have to do. Are you coming?”

God he wishes he was.

With a swift movement, he tosses his shirt in the sand next to yours and yanks his pants off. He’s straining against his boxers and he almost wants to leave them ashore as well.

Your silhouette outlined by moonlight on the waves beckons to him. As if in a trance, he stumbles after you.

Lukewarm water laps at his toes. You’ve already made it out to hip height. Not as cold as it could’ve been. He watches you dive in and come up, water sluicing down your body. Bakugou swallows, even though his mouth is dry.

Lace molds to your skin leaving nothing to his imagination. He takes in the picture of you wet, bothered, and moonlit as he approaches. You look like a siren luring him out to his death, and he’d willingly follow you again and again as long as it meant he could see you like this.

His hand trails up your side until he’s cupping your breast, teasing your already pert nipples into stiff peaks and drawing breathy moans out of you.

Bakugou kisses feverishly down the column of your throat. Salty sea mixes with your essence. Laving the soft skin where neck and shoulder meet, he bites into you and sucks. A claim. A notice to anyone else that looks at you that your needs are met and they are not needed. Only him. Not your shitty ex, not anyone else sitting around the goddamn campfire. Him.

Your legs latch around his waist, your body rising and falling with the surge of water around you. 

“Katuski,” you purr and nip at his earlobe. “Make me feel good.”

That’s all he needs. It’s enough permission for him to drop the gentle act and rip aside your panties. His clothed cock rubs against your folds and fucking hell he should’ve left them on shore. 

Trusting you to hold on, he loses his boxers in the ocean. Who needs them anyways? 

“Look at me,” he commands roughly. Lining himself up with your entrance, he watches your eyes widen as he slowly sinks inside you. Your mewl as he bottoms out, barely audible over the crashing waves, spurs him on. 

It’s a fast fucking fueled by repressed burning desire that he’s only ever got to act on in dreams. Slipping his fingers between your bodies, he has you spasming around him in minutes. 

You cling to him as he fucks into you with renewed fervor. This is a high he can’t get with his hand alone. 

“K-Katsuki,” you whimper, “It’s so much. Too much. Too big.”

Your words shoot straight to his cock. “I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else,” he growls. If he’s too big, then what mediocre, mid-rate sex are you used to?

“Katuski p-please,” you babble, “It’s so much. You’re filling me. I need more. I need you.” Your cries punctuate each of his strokes. Bakugou’s nails find purchase in your back as he clings to you, chasing an overwhelming need.

So close.

In this moment, all his. 

A dream come true.

He spills into you, his dick throbbing in time with his heart. You wrap your arms around his neck and exhale against his skin. Fully sated.

Goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Let’s get you back to shore,” he murmurs and carries you out of the water.

He sets you on the ground with unsteady feet. Your panties are still skewed for easy access. His sensitive dick jumps at the thought. Another time. With a cocky grin, he kneels before you and adjusts them back to normal before placing a chaste kiss against your pubic bone. He looks up to see you glassy eyed watching him.

“I’m just glad I got to you before anyone else made a move.”

⪢ Next Chapter

[batsandbirdbrains]

You have me so invested in this “Dick is actually younger than what he said” AU that it’s crazy omg. The angst possibilities are endless, but for now I'll focus on fluff/family feels. Bruce definitely somehow becomes even more overprotective once he finds out.

If it's when Dick is still small Robin (actual age 6, portrayed age 9/10) he tries to give Dick safer missions or have him go on less patrols. Of course this backfires as Dick is a feral child he won't stop being Robin and taking on dangerous cases. He just sneaks out more and Bruce finally caves in and treats him like he used to lol

If Bruce finds out when Dick is supposed to be a teenager (actual age like 12, portrayed age 14/15) then Bruce becomes overbearing about Dick's friendships. Dick is still young enough that he only has crushes (if YJ maybe Zatanna, if TT maybe Kori) while Bruce is adamant that Dick is not allowed to date until he's like 30. Alfred vetoes this once Dick is actually 14/15 and someone asks him out who is close to his actual age. Bruce also disapproves of Dick's friendship with Roy because he feels that Roy is a bad influence/too old to be friends with Dick (Dick is of course offended and becomes closer friends with Roy partially to spite Bruce)

If Bruce finds out once Dick is actually over 18 and is Nightwing (meaning no longer living at Wayne Manor), he has a crisis that involves a lot of looking at old photos and videos of young Bruce and Dick. Mostly Bruce is upset because he probably negatively impacted Dick's growth very early on (I'm a pediatric nurse so the difference between a 5 year old and an 8 year is significant! Raising a 5 year old to the standard of an 8 year old would be very stressful for a 5 year old and lead to a lot of issues once they are older). He's also upset that he treated Dick like an adult once he was an older teen when Dick was emotionally still pretty young. But a little part of Bruce is a little happy that he got to be a part of his oldest son's life from a younger age and got to see him from preschool age.

Sorry for the long ask/HCs! I'd go into angst but I have even more ideas about that lol

Oh send all the ideas in send them in!! I love to read them!!

Bruce would absolutely feel guilty as hell no matter what age he finds out the truth. Because he’s convinced he ruined Dick’s childhood by being too oblivious to realize how obvious it was that his small child he adopted was actually an even smaller child. He knows what actual eight year olds look like. How did he let a five year old convince him he was that much older? He feels like such a failure of a father.

He just stares at pictures from the first few years he took in Dick and he can’t look away. He rewatches home videos and cries because Dick was really so teeny tiny itty bitty. God, he lost his two front baby teeth when he was with Bruce, those are like the first teeth kids start losing! How was Bruce so stupid?

But he’d been so cute with the little gap in his smile, his little lisp until his grown up teeth grew in, and it just went right over Bruce’s head.

Dick had slept in Bruce’s bed on and off for years, into his early teens even. Bruce thought maybe it was due to his patrolling, his being Robin, that maybe it made Dick more anxious than a normal kid or something. But really he’d been 10 or 11 when he stopped, when he started sleeping in his own room consistently, and Bruce finds out that that isn’t entirely abnormal.

He’s a late bloomer was an excuse Bruce always used. But he wasn’t. Dick was right on time for all his growth spurts and milestones.

It’s just such a fun trope and I don’t think I’ve actually seen it expanded on all that much tbh.

[wishchip106]

idk who they were trying to fool with that Moira x Charles

they’ll just both be waiting for the other to put it in 🤨

personification of this picture honestly

[edwinisms]

you ever think about how edwin got like. no warning, no time time to process, nothing, when he reappeared on earth faced with the fact that virtually everyone he knew in life is dead. his parents? probably died in the 1950s or so (at best) almost forty years prior to edwin’s return. if any of his classmates were still around, they’d have been elderly, possibly senile, and in a few years they’d all be gone– except, of course, edwin. nothing looks the same, cars look like spaceships, there actually are spaceships, he can no longer see the stars, and everyone he knew is dead.

[fideidefenswhore]

caved and rewatched a few eps (sort of only pieces tho) of tudors (and BSR, drama scenes only… #ilovetohavefun) last night and like the way… you can literally so plausibly cast so many actors in that cast as hviii… except the one playing hviii….

i know steve waddington is the fan fav, he would be perfect for henry like circa 1530 (except the brown eyes), but i also present:

Kris Holden Reid , perfect for circa 1515 (and 6’3 asw!)

[ahalliance]

qantoine’s coping mechanism to feeling left behind being both self-isolating and becoming possesive of those he cares for is so juicy as a concept . like yeah you go you funky creachure, manifest those complicated and sometimes contradictory emotions

[streetfarterturdstrike]

Very glad to see that when it comes to hypothetical male swimsuit costumes the fandom agrees Ken would be the one wearing the board shorts and Ryu would be the one wearing the speedo

[freakalot]

“satoru gojo if you don’t shut up i am banning you from sex for an entire year.” ☆

satoru frowns against your neck, where he tries hopelessly to stifle his own moans. he’s spooning you in a tangled mess of limbs and bedsheets, almost pathetic in his attempt to restrain himself. he feels like a hormonal teenager all over again.

“you know,” he half-whispers, half-moans into your ear. “i don’t think he’d care all that much if he woke up. i think he’s in love with you actually, i’d probably get to watch nanami kento beg on his knees to join us. ohh i like that idea actually, we should wake him—ah!”

you don’t know how else to quieten him down, so you reach behind you to pinch his side. all it does, really, is make him yelp and drive his cock even deeper into you, which makes you moan in turn.

you and satoru hadn’t had sex in so long, what with missions taking up so much time and the threat of societal collapse being somewhat of a libido-inhibitor. so when your joint mission with nanami ran over, and the higher-ups put you in a shared hotel room, satoru took opportunity as it struck. and you didn’t stop him.

now he’s balls deep inside of you as you lay facing the sculpted back of kento nanami. he’s laying with his back to you, breathing evenly in his sleep—each breath he takes pronounces the muscles of his back beneath the thin grey sleeping shirt he’s wearing. it does more to you than it should.

“you’re so fucking wet,” satoru whispers in your ear as his pace quickens. “what—you like this or something? being fucked five feet from nanami like this? hell, i like it. like showing you off. i'm like... sticking it to the man right now, babe.”

“he’s not even awake,” your eyes roll back as his tip brushes mean against your g-spot. satoru teases you with an open mouthed kiss to your neck, and then nips at the same spot.

"you sure, pretty?" he practically coos. "i think he's fighting for his fucking life right now. he was breathing like a monk until i mentioned him joining us."

you narrow your eyes at the sleeping man on the other bed. he's stilled and silent and obnoxiously toned and you swear you're getting wetter by the second and you also swear gojo can feel it because he's grinning against your shoulder like a fucking lunatic. you're about to brush him off, defend your coworker and friend and tell satoru to hurry up and make you cum so you can sleep when you see it: nanami shifts his hips.

it's so small of a movement that you might have imagined it, but you're too busy imagining how hard he must be to have to readjust like that. what must be going through his mind... listening to the two of you fuck like you're trying to get over something. he's either torturing himself with want right now or drafting up a letter to the higher ups in his head. maybe both.

"he's either awake," satoru reaches down and lifts your leg a little to reach sweet new depths inside of you. "or having the nastiest wet dream of his life."

something churns in your stomach, apprehension if you were a better person, and you part your lips to tell satoru to stop being an ass, but what comes out instead is a breathy moan so desperate it makes both men stiffen.

and nanami exhales. loudly. not in the sleeping man sense, this is choked out and heavy with something you don't dare name.

"oh nanamin," satoru sing-songs. "if you're going to cum in your boxers, come here and do it with a better view."

“satoru—” you hiss, mortified, melting at the same time, “stop—”

divine intervention is the only explanation. you must have some serious karma point stacked up and pocketed for a rainy day because, just as your breath hitches again, kento nanami is sitting up and planting his feet on the floor, eyes set dead on the two of you.

his pyjama pants are tight. when you let your gaze fall from his messy hair to the complete and visible outline of his hard cock, you think your heart stops. this is unseemly, and unprofessional, and everything that could be considered inappropriate. and if kento decides to walk out and complain, you and satoru are fucked, special grade status be damned.

“…you’re both ridiculous,” he says flatly, voice sandpapered. "this is wrong. abhorrent. foul."

he sounds exhausted. morally affronted. except his dick is so hard it must hurt and his eyes haven't once left where satoru's cock disappears inside of you. his gaze is heavy on you like a second set of hands. it's ungodly. you feel blasphemous, like maybe if nanami just looks at you a little longer you'd cum from that alone.

satoru thrusts deeper into you, but speaks to nanami. "you're hard."

"and you're loud." nanami exhales slowly, like he's giving himself a full ten-count to resist the urge to murder or run or maybe both. then he stands, finally meets your eyes, and softens his gaze a little. "you want this?"

your body answers for you, hips rolling back and pushing yourself deeper on satoru's cock. your thigh trembles where gojo holds it up and your voice comes out breathless and wrecked. "yes."

satoru groans, of course, and makes a show of squeezing one of your boobs in his hand. nanami doesn’t even look at him. doesn’t need to. his attention is all on you now, laser-focused and reverent like you’re a fucking sacrament. he reaches for your jaw, guiding your face up until your lips part just from the force of his presence.

“good,” he murmurs. “because i’m going to fuck you, both of you, until i can think straight again—and if i have to hear your voice even once during it, satoru, i will be gagging you."

your heart-eyed boyfriend cums inside of you at the implication alone.

and that is how you end up on your hands and knees in a twin hotel room in the dead hours of the night. kento nanami fucks his cum back inside of you for the second time that night, fingers digging so tightly into the fat of your ass that you don't doubt satoru will be teasings the marks left behind for days to come.

you splay your fingers over your boyfriends thighs, which is the only touch he's been granted since cumming inside of you. you stare up at him, he's got lidded eyes and this desperate look on his face as he watches nanami fuck you from behind, each thrust pushing your face just that little bit closer to his painfully hard cock.

though he can't complain, not with nanami's tie rolled up and stuck between his teeth. he tries, though, guttural moans and half-discernible pleads for more can hardly be heard over the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

you don't know why you never thought of satoru as a cuck. oddly, he's the type. still, that pretty look of desperation on his face is enough to have you squeezing around nanami's fat cock.

"settle down, gojo," nanami chides, squeezing your ass as if your boyfriend could feel it. "you're taking me next."