#i guess i never realized how close we really were already which. does that >really< say anything…?

[trashbaget]

.

[yandere-wishes]

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝔹𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Synopsis: You finally realize that you and Miguel are stuck inside a comic book romance. 

Warnings: Yandere themes, angst, the reader has Stockholm syndrome but can we really blame her? 

There's something about a sleepless night that's lethal. A loaded gun aimed point blank at your head and your heart and your eyes that are too weary to recall the difference between fact and fiction. Right and wrong.

Miguel should be home soon you think as you stare at the Daily Bugle's nightly broadcast. The headlines are the same as last week's villain attack and the week before that, and the week before that. 

'SPIDERMAN REPORTED DEAD AFTER TANGLE WITH NUEVA YORK'S NEWEST VILLAIN!'

 You think this is the 18th time he's died this month. A hologram dances in front of you, some withering reporter adamant in his claim that this time. This time for sure Spiderman is dead. A Harrowing claim, one you know to be false. Your lover isn't so easy to kill, you should know on account of how many times you had tried. Back when you'd painted Miguel O'Hara as the villain in your story, back when you were so obstinate to return to a wholly ignorant life of so-called freedom. 

Miguel can't die, you refuse to believe that a man like that is subject to such a mortal thing. 

You use to try to imagine a Miguel that had grown old. You couldn't back then and still can't today. Because heroes are eternal, or so you've come to believe.  They die a hundred deaths and reawaken younger than before. Heroes aren't immortal -that's the part that makes your heart skip a beat- yet death has never had the chance to lay claim to them. Miguel is fine you're sure of it. 

There's a noise, a disturbance in the wind, the sound of thousands of coiled webs being used to sling across the air.

A sign that Spiderman has arrived.

He's here.

You can't help but smile. 

"What's the old man saying this time?" 

You turn to see Miguel, land at the edge of the rooftop. Legs limb as he staggers towards you. With a defeated moan he sits down. Close enough for you to inspect the galaxy of bruises that dance across his stunning face. 

When did you fall in love with him, again? 

"You're supposed to be dead," you say, a bitter laugh following, the peculiar words.

"I think that's the 14th time the Bugals had a spread on me dying" He chuckles, dry and humorless. 

You bite your tongue to avoid correcting him. 

"Who was it this time? Venom or Flipside?" you ask, trying to guess which of the two had been able to give the Miguel O'Hara a run for his money. 

"Just some kid, from another dimension. Mocoso already screwed up the canon once, and he's damn well trying to do it again. He used Spider Bite to send himself home, so I didn't get the chance to..." He doesn't bother finishing that sentence. Doesn't have to, you've seen worlds collapse upon themselves because a tiny imperfection had distraught the canon. You know why he does this. You know why he must do this. No one is exempt from the canon. No matter how young and naive they may be. 

How peculiar the life of superhumans are. For all the guts and glory every hero's world is only bounded by thin silk strings. Perpetually on the verge of collapse should the chosen one refuse to follow destiny's orders. 

Heroes aren't pretty, they neither sparkle nor shine. Instead, they burn with a self-lit fire that grows out of control, burning until only ashes remain. Heroes are tragedies swung across every dimension. War-torn children with blood under their fingernails and chipped teeth from one too many close calls. Heroes aren't pretty, nor beautiful, nor divine. They're mangled creatures who come alive at night, staggering across half-lit streets doing what they believe is right. 

You've tried to commit this to memory. Tried to memorize it so you wouldn't make the same mistakes as every lovesick idiot who's fallen in love with a superhero. 

But sometimes it's so hard to remember, especially when Miguel has been your only companion for months now. The only person you have to talk to. The only person who is there in the early hours of the morning when even sleep abandons you. And he's always there again at night to tuck you in before he departs to fight whoever has broken the few simple rules that the canon calls for. You've almost come to appreciate his paranoia and insistence that you stayed locked inside the penthouse. Although he's grown a bit bolder as of late. Permitting you free range of the terrace and rooftop. A sign of good faith, he'd called. Whilst you'd presume that he's come to enjoy you waiting outside to greet him when he returns from the miseries of being a golden boy. 

"I try to save everyone, I try to make sure the universe is held upright. So why the hell does everyone always treat me like I'm the villain?" His voice is raising, fangs glowing in loose rays of starlight. His hands are crossed in annoyance. You rest your hand on his arm as you snuggle closer.

Heroes and villains, what's the difference? 

That's a question the two of you have been pondering for too long now. 

Even though you doubt  Miguel truly knows who he is. It's hard to fall into the orderly boxes of 'good' and 'bad' when the fate of every universe lies on your already brittle shoulders. 

He's a hero who acts like a villain. That's what you use to call him. Back when he'd first plucked you away from your ordinary mundane life.Deeming the world too dangerous for a defenseless little civilian such as yourself. He had promised to love you, to cherish you. Back when you'd been so resistant to play the role of the hero's lover. But seeing as how no matter what nightmares he went through as Spiderman, he had still kept those two promises. You had slowly started to grow fond of him

Time and time again Miguel has made you feel like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. Wings clipped and waiting for the inevitable. He's overbearing to the point where his sheer presence feels like a boulder placed on your chest. Or maybe his strings have finally found their way to your heart, coiling around the organ controlling its every beat and pulse. Yet somehow, somehow, you started to desire more and more of him.

You're in love with the hero who plays the villain. 

You're in love with the villain who bares a hero's mask. 

"You should be more careful when dealing with the other spiders. I hear they're not all as precautious as you." Your fingers trace the purpling marks on his cheek.  Sliding from one universe to another. 

You know Miguel isn't a tiny spider he's a bloodthirsty tarantula. Yet you still worry. Fear that one day he may fail to return home. 

"You shouldn't worry about me preciosa,"

"Someone has to, Miguel, you're not as indestructible as you may think."

"If I kiss you will you stop complaining?"

There's no room to answer, his lips rest on yours, forceful and sweet. Captivating, dominating, and as always overbearing. His fangs slowly sink into the back of your lips. That familiar iron taste invades your mouth once again. 

Sometimes Miguel feels like a hero, shouldering the universe's burdens, and fighting for what's right. After all, with great power comes great responsibility. This is what he wanted, he always wanted to be the hero.

But sometimes when the spider's lair is abandoned and he returns home to you, he can't help but feel like the villain. He's protecting you he knows that. Justifying it is easy when you watch dimensions wither away in violent glitching and endless screams, daily. Yet he wonders if his predecessors were ever like this. If the heroes are supposed to keep their lovers locked away. Alone yet safe. A fair trade in his mind. 

Miguel isn't quite human, half-everlasting and half-horror. 

A dangerous combination

Or at least a confusing one. 

The point is he's some sort of hero. But that also means he's some sort of villain. Even the old tales got things wrong, not every superhero is carved from porcelain and ivory. Not every villain is built from ash and rage.  

Sometimes heroes are carved from gravestone granite and glazed with poison. Sometimes their powers are self-inflicted curses that chew away at flesh and bone. sometimes the hero's halo is made of barbed wire digging into his scalp and embittering his thoughts. Sometimes heroes kill themselves before any villain gets the chance. Spitling their body apart a million times a day because destiny decided to play a cruel joke on them. Picking the weakest of all mankind to become its guardian. 

When he pulls away from the kiss, he lifts your hand to his mouth. 

His fangs sink into your finger puncturing bone as he gnaws the stress away. Blood leaks down his chin, spilling over the rooftop. He pulls your body closer. An anchor in a never-ending storm. 

You kiss his chin, looking into his eyes. Eyes that can never choose whether they wish to be human or monster. Your head instinctively finds his chest nestling into the cold metal of his suit. 

Oh, how you wish you could crack his rib cage open and crawl inside. 

Sometimes you think back to the original tales. The ones from your dimension, albeit it seems that -regardless of a few rare exceptions- the stories are consistent in every universe.  

The story always goes the same. Peter Parker falls in love with MJ or Gwen, you've come to learn that in the long run, it doesn't really matter. Spiderman saves them again and again. Until the whole world knows that Mj or Gwen are somehow connected to the masked hero. But never once does she leave his side. Rebellious blond or dotting redhead, Spiderman's lover stays regardless of how desperate and vicious the villains become when they start to learn that the story always ends in the hero's favor. 

It's every gal's dream to be the lover of a superhero. Awaiting their betrothed's triumphant return. Greeting them with amorous tidings and cherry red kisses. 

You think you're Gwen or Mary Jane. Or whoever else decided to fall in love with the troubled boy who has radioactivity coursing through his veins. The boy who was deemed a hero and thus was destroyed because of it.

Of course, there's the other part. The underlying message of the story, that parents all so conveniently 'forget' to tell their children. The disease of the otherwise perfect tale. They forget to tell you that Gwen Stacy fell to her death and Mary Jane is left abandoned, once the hero realizes that his mere presence is a curse. Stories may end in the hero's favor but much like the villain the lover is also doomed by the narrative. That's normal for any hero's lover. They always burn out to cater to the hero's ever-fuming torch of justice.

you feel broken, as you're sure they did too. An unspoken rule of being with a hero is that eventually, you start to lose your sense of self without them. It doesn't make sense when you put it like that but along the way bits and piece of you broke off. Pieces that you forgot to patch up. You've been mending by using segments of Miguel to make yourself feel whole again. It's a small miracle that you still hold a fading memory of whom you used to be before he made you his. A miracle that sweeps through the cracks of your soul. 

Heroes never need to fear death, just an eternity of pain. Losing everyone they love, over and over again. Maybe that's why Miguel's grip is so suffocatingly tight. He knows that eventually, not today and maybe not tomorrow but eventually he's going to lose you too. 

You're a comic book Juliet and he's Romeo with superpowers. Everyone knows that comic book heroes are doomed from the start. Neither you nor Miguel are exceptions. 

Maybe the two of you are doomed by the narrative.

But for tonight, as the moon slowly sinks behind the skyscrapers and the stars fade one by one. The two of you are safe in each other's arms. 

[13keithxpidge13]

OH OH ! and miles wanting to count all of hobies piercings because hobie didnt remember how many he had (or even miles didnt ask and just started counting out of nowhere and surprises hobie hehehe) .. getting up really close to his face and noticing how pink hobie got . realising that he gets pink like that when he gets close to miles ....

"Have you noticed it at all?" Gwen asks him and Miles hums as he colors in his sketchbook.

They're sitting on top of one of the ledges in the Spider-Society HQ, chilling and relaxing as they wait for another mission to be announced. For now, Miles is biding his time by sketching.

Beside him, Gwen huffs and jostles his shoulder and Miles curses as he messes up his newest drawing.

"Gwen!" He shouts.

"I'm asking you a question," She laughs as he erases the imperfect line. "Have you noticed how Hobie changes colors?"

"Yeah," He gruffs out. "Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't," She says. "But...haven't you noticed how he changes color based on how he's feeling and that he goes pink around, well, /you/? And, /only/ you?"

"What are you talking about?" Miles glances at her with a raised eyebrow. "No he doesn't."

Gwen scoffs. "Yeah. He does."

"no he doesn't."

"he does."

"no!"

"yes!"

"Gweeennn," Miles whines and slaps his hands over his face as his cheeks darken at the implications of what she's saying. "Don't give me hope."

"I'm just saying," Gwen laughs. "It's pretty obvious."

Miles grumbles and glances away from her as he crosses his arms over his chest. "...I guess..." He mumbles and Gwen leans closer, humming. Miles puffs out his cheeks. "I suppose I /have/ noticed-"

"aHA!" Gwen shakes him and Miles breaks out into giggles. "I knew it! He sooooo has a crush on you! He likes you back, Miles, it's soooo obvious!"

"It's not!" He protests. "He's so indifferent I can never tell!"

"Well," Gwen smiles. "Why don't you try to catch him in the act? Make him bend to your cuteness and charm!" She teases as she pulls at his cheeks. "C'mon, I'll even help you!"

"But, how would we even do that in the first place?" Miles laughs at her poking. "It's not like I can just go up and /ask him/, he'll probably deny it! And, oh, maybe that will make him realize that /I/ like him! Gah! I can't!"

"You won't have too," Gwen reassures. "Just make him turn pink around you, do something that'll get him flustered and confront him about why he turns pink whenever you're around! Surely that'll lead to a love confession!"

Miles huffs in embarrassment and scratches at his sore cheeks that were whining from being pulled. "Oh, alright," He sighs. "But, /you/ have to help set up a time to do this!"

Gwen grins cheekily and pulls out her watch to message Hobie.

"Already on it."

+

"Uhm, thanks for coming over, man."

"Yeah, no problem, mate. Needed an excuse to leave my dimension fo' awhile anyhow."

Miles chuckles and tries to hide his nervousness as they both enter his room through the window he left open, being careful not to make too much noise as his parents were probably cooking dinner and he didn't want to disturb them.

They sit on his bed and a few moments of awkward silence passes by before Hobie bumps their shoulders together.

"somethin' you needed from me personally? Or did ya' just wan' hang out?"

"uh," Miles coughs and laughs nervously. "Well, uhm, I guess, uh-" He tries to come up with an excuse other than /I wanted to see you turn pink/, and then it hits him. "I, uh, I wanted to draw you!" He shouts and immediately curses himself for it.

Hobie blinks at him largely before laughing. "Ah, I see," He nods. "Ya' wanted a reference for ya' sketches? Well, all ya' had to do was ask, babe."

Miles laughs awkwardly and blindly grabs for his sketchbook which is on his bed.

"Uhm, okay," He brags as he holds his pencil shakily. "Can you uhm, can you turn so I can see your face? I need, uh, I need to get your facial structure right."

Hobie grins. "Sure, honey," He says and turns according to how Miles wants him too.

A few minutes pass while miles glances up and down, looking back up and down at him to make sure he's getting his face as accurate as possible. He gets so into drawing him that, when he glances up and sees the piercings on his face, he blinks.

"Oh," Miles deadpans and Hobie tilts his head.

"Hm?"

"Oh, uhm, well," Miles flushes. "I just, I noticed that you have a lot of piercings...I noticed it before but uh...you have a lot more than I thought."

Hobie grins cheekily.

"Ya' wanna count 'em?" He asks and Miles giggles nervously.

"Uhm, I might need too..." He says. "I wanna uh, I wanna get everything as accurate as possible."

"Mhm," Hobie hums. "I'm sure. Go ahead, love."

He had multiple piercings on his ears, on his eyebrows, on his nose...

Miles gets in closer even though his heart is racing and reaches up to touch his chin. "You've got one on your bottom lip, too?" He asks, tilting his head and attempting to remain calm. "It's big. Doesn't it hurt?"

Hobie's breathing echoes throughout his ear. "Nah, babe," Hobie laughs but it seems a little off. "Hurt at first but, uh, goes away after a lil' time."

"Yeah?" Miles brushes his fingers against his bottom lip and Hobie nearly jumps out of his skin.

Instead, his body goes /bright pink/ and Miles twitches.

"Fuck-" Hobie curses and stands up from the bed. "Sorry, fuck, sorry," He brushes his hands down his vest as though he were trying to brush away the color. "Sorry, mate. I don't know why it fuckin' does that shit, gods-"

"You don't?" Miles asks innocently. "Gwen said it was because your body changes colors based off your emotions like everything else does in your universe."

"That's-" Hobie stops and turns, mumbling something about Gwen being a snitch before he sighs. "Yeah. It does. It's fuckin' weird like that."

"Sooo..." Miles stands beside him and tilts his body closer to him. "What does pink mean? Because you go pink around me a /lot/, I've noticed. What is it? I won't make fun of you, dude."

Hobie's quiet, exhaling loudly through his mouth as he turns away and his cheeks seem to darken even further.

Miles' brows furrow. Come on. He has to /know/-

Hobie leans his head back and sighs once more.

"It's 'cause..." He swallows and scratches the back of his neck. "It's 'cause...I like ya', mate. Not in the bullshit platonic way either. Like, in the I kinda wanna kiss ya' and take ya' out to dates and hold ya' hand and shit."

Miles feels the breath punched out of him. "You-" He can't stop the wide smile that etches across his face. "Really?"

Hobie runs a hand down his face and mumbles; "Well, yeah..."

Miles almost jumps and down with joy until Hobie continues;

"I'm sorry, mate," He says. "I know it's prolly weird, ain't it? I don't wanna make ya' uncomfortable, love. If ya' want me gone, I'll leave, y'know? Just say the word, mate, and I'll be gone-"

"No!" Miles grabs onto him instinctively and Hobie jumps at it. "Don't go! You misunderstood me!"

"Wha-what?" Hobie stutters. "What're you talkin' 'bout?"

"You-I-" Miles felt his cheeks darken. He sputters for a moment and nearly lets go of Hobie's hand before the elder teen grasps at his fingers again so he couldn't get very far. Miles licks his lips and feels impossibly flustered.

"Miles?" Hobie leans forward, obviously concerned and curious. "What did you mean?"

"I just-" Miles turns his head away and Hobie shakes his head. "It's nothing-"

"nuh, uh, sweetheart," Hobie's smiling now. He's grinning from ear to ear and gently turns Miles to face him again and the younger teen is impossibly red. "Somethin' ya' wanna tell me? Like how I told you?"

Miles licks his lips and their eyes meet. Suddenly, a surge of confidence overtakes him and Miles grins.

"You wanna know what I meant?" He stands on his tip toes. "I'll show you."

He locks lips with Hobie and the punk grunts with it.

Miles grabs a hold of the back of his neck so he can force the elder teen to dip forward so Miles can get a better grip on him and he hums as Hobie licks at his lips

Hands grab at his waist and Miles squeals when he realizes how /big/ Hobie's hands are, how perfect they fit around him and his small hips. It makes shivers run up his spine like electricity and Hobie chuckles against his tongue as their muscles dances together.

Then, their lips part and a string of slick saliva is all that connects them.

Miles pants for air and knows his cheeks are flushed impossibly dark. Hobie leans forward again and kisses both cheeks, peppering his skin with soft slick kisses that have his breath hitching.

"Finally," Hobie murmurs. "Yer so fuckin' cute, love. So cute to kiss me like that."

Miles pouts. "It wasn't meant to be /cute/, man! It was supposed to be hot! I wasn't cute, I was /hot/," He whines and Hobie kisses his nose with a chuckle.

"Yes, yes, of course," He coos and Miles scoffs.

"Agree with me!"

"I am!"

"You're not!"

Hobie merely laughs and kisses him again, successfully silencing him.

[angelltheninth]

Warm Showers Always Help

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, shower sex, grinding, clit stimulation, slight scent kink, cum stays inside, bathing/washing together, praise, dirty talk, cockwarmng

Word count: 0.9k

A/N: I love when I get these random inspirations when I'm writing completely unrelated things from this fandom.

You're always up for a nice shower when you and Dick are done with your morning training routine. What you realized as you were walking towards said shower however was that Dick was up for things other than just a shower.

"Need a hand?" You smirked as you made a deliberate move to push your ass against his cock while also taking your top off.

"Oh I'm gonna need more than a hand with this little problem." Dick smiles against your neck, his hands rubbing your hips and fingers dipping into your training shorts. "Interested?"

"Very. But I wouldn't exactly call your problem little. Although I guess you are Dick, so this could be little Dick." You could feel his cock twitching with need against your ass, a stifled groan left his lips as one of his hands reached for your breast.

"Please never call it that again." You noted the humor in his voice, he found it funny too just didn't want to admit it. There would be time for jokes later, now the two of you had a different task at hand. "How about you hop and get ready for me?"

You wiggled against him harder, "Because you're already ready?" Judging by the hardness he was more then ready. He frequently got boners when training with you. Which is why he saves it for when it's just the two of you. He does not want, or need, his family taking notice of this and teasing him for it later.

"Yeah." He said a little sheepishly, smirking with that almost boyish charm and rubbing the back of his neck.

Humming in acknowledgment you took off the rest of your clothes and stepped into the shower. You winked back at him and waived, before making it very clear that that same hand traveled between your legs. You let out a breathy moan and right as started circling your clit you turned on the shower to cover up some of the sound. Head thrown back your other hand joined, moving both faster and faster as you registered Dick's clothes hitting the floor and his more and more labored breathing.

And finally felt his warm body pressed against yours, his cock against your ass, his frame closing you in against the shower wall.

"Wait. Don't wash up just yet." You turned your head around and nosed against his neck, "You smell really good after training."

Dick chuckled and moved to press his lips against your shoulder, "I smell like sweat babe."

"And I like that. Its so... you. And maybe a bit like me. Like us." You sighed and spread your legs, one arm leaving your wet pussy to slide up Dick's face. He grasped it with his own hand and brought your fingers to his mouth to taste.

"Like us." He repeated as he playfully bit your ring finger.

With his knees he moved your legs apart and bend down a little to properly position the tip of his cock with your pussy opening. His cock was warm, and further warming up as it entered and filled you up. Your hands moved to the slippery wall, Dick's hand over yours while his other hand replaced yours on your clit, rolling it in slow, deliberate, tight circles as his cock pulled in and out in a slow, deep, rocking motion.

It kept you on the edge of something, but never fully toppling over. You could feel him twitching inside your warm, slippery walls, his balls lightly hitting against you. Your free hand reached behind you and tangled into his hair thanks to his head being near your ear so his lips could taste your skin.

"We should... actually start washing up." You signed in between moans.

"Should we? Do you want me to stop then?" Oh he was being a little evil now, "I certainly don't. Your pussy's hugging me so well. And I know it's not this slippery from the shower."

"Don't stop. Don't you dare stop now. I'm close. I know you can feel how close I am Dick." You clenched your walls around his cock, intent on getting him there too.

"I've been close for a while now. You're on the pill right? I can finish inside?" His hips smacked against your ass faster, his kisses more open and needy, his thumb pressing longer and longer on your clit as he thrust his cock into you.

You whimpered and nodded quickly, too afraid that you couldn't quite use words properly right now. "Insi-fuc-!"

Dick was never able to resist your sweet pleas. Not when your cunt made those sweet, enticing, sloppy sounds that only became sloppier when you arched your back and fluttered around him, further lubing up his cock with your wetness.

"I love you so much. Have I told you that today? How much I love you?" He whispered against your ear, his pace increasing, until he went still behind you. A rush of warmth flooded your insides in quick bursts. Dick kept kissing you all the while.

"How can you be so damn sweet while fucking me in the shower." You laugh out once you catch some of your breath. "I like you sweet, but I thought all that adrenaline might, you know, make you go wild on me."

Dick smirked against your neck and gently nibbled on it, "Is that what you want? I could be wild for you. Anything for you." He would do anything for you. You knew that. "As long as I get my dose of cuddles."

"Those are non-negotiable." You kept trading kisses and sweet words as you eventually did get washed up. Hands kept wondering, Dick's cock still inside you, which made some areas harder to reach but you were both very flexible individuals. Lucky you.

[mamayan]

Okay imagine this - (you don't have to do it, you can delete this if it makes you uncomfy, I love you and you have done nothing wrong ever) - but IMAGINE okay?

Bakugo Katsuki, The Dynamight, number two hero, and his child with you is quirkless (bonus if reader is also quirkless)

Imagine the disappointed ambition - he was so sure the kid would inherit his quirk or something similar, he was so sure - especially since the kid looks like Katsuki - and yet...

I guess I'm in mood for hurt-comfort 😔

Honestly, I see this affecting our dearest mama here, as it’s likely for Katsuki to really fall for someone after being a bully/jerk to them.

Imagine his quirkless sweetheart, desperate to please and impress at all times because they’re just useless without a quirk (thanks to his bullying in the past) and realizing their child inherited their quirkless gene?

Pro-Hero Katsuki Bakugo x Quirkless Fem! Reader!

Growing Pains

cw: SFW • Language (R) • Hurt/Comfort • Bully to Lovers • Child Care (tis the season) • Pro-Hero Katsuki • Fem! Reader • Marriage • Katsuki learns how to communicate a little better

A child is a gift so precious one must always be careful never to forsake it.

That’s what his hag-mother always said at least. The endless joy though which his daughter brought truly lived up to her words though. A gift. A precious, incredibly tiny and fragile, gift he swore to never forsake as he held the bundle in his arms at the hospital.

You looked beautiful even after so long in labor. Joy painting your features and making his heart ache from the sugar being injected into his veins. The love and adoration in your eyes only making his resolve harden further, to protect you both and love you two till his last breath.

So what changed from that moment till now? As a normally happy rambunctious toddler sits in complete stillness with eyes wide in horror. You didn’t look any better, skin perspiration more than his own on a usual day, lip being chewed until the skin breaks and he’s forced to grip you tightly.

“Hey—,” his gruff voice wakes you up.

“I’m so sorry…” his brows furrow in confusion, your apology unexpected and odd.

“The fuck are you sorry for?” He feels the atmosphere in the room start to divulge, his child and you both acting as if you’d heard a cancer diagnosis and not something he’d already considered the possibility of. Of course he’d wanted his daughter to have a quirk, but it didn’t call for such a grave reaction.

“It’s all my fault… I’m so sorry baby…” the tears freak him out more, your tears flowing endlessly as you stare at him with such hopeless eyes he’s startled to his core. Dark garnet eyes widening as a sick feeling enters his gut, something churning he can’t even name. “I failed both you and our daughter, making her weak and worthless like me—,” He’s going to be sick for sure, the sterile little clinic room starting close in on him.

He’s Dynamight, number 2 pro hero, and only because shit for brains Deku was better with the media but still, he’s not sure what to do. How to fix it, as you hold your child and cry, asking for forgiveness from him.

It makes him remember every instance of the past he cringes and does his best to avoid thinking on. Every tug of your hair, every shove to the floor, every time he made you feel small for something so superficial as not having a quirk.

Your tears were endless, and they seemed to spur on his daughter as well, her little sniffles making him nearly enraged as the door creeks open at the worst moment and the doctor returns.

The woman’s sympathetic gaze make him want to punch her, the way she seems understanding and not offended as himself.

“It can be a hard acceptance Mrs. Bakugo, I’m happy to recommend some quirkless support groups for the two of you, then we can look at some family care plans—,”

“What. The. Fuck. Are you talking about? Support group? They don’t need a fucking support group, your raggedy ass bitch—!”

“Katsuki!” “Mr. Bakugo?!” “Papa?”

It didn’t matter, he wasn’t hearing words anymore, top blown and his tempter unleashed as he nearly blows the door off after throwing you both over his shoulder and storming out. Cursing the entire way, uncaring of the phones being pulled out and people whispering and recording. He’d get an earful from the agency but it hardly computed in his mind.

Your fault? It seemed clear enough it was his fault. When all he ever did was make you feel belittled for your quirklessness, small and weak because of it, and now what did it do?

It passed on to his own fucking kid. His fault. This was his fucking fault.

His own eyes were admittedly wet as he shuts you both up in the car. Making sure you both are buckled in safely before he nearly screams once he’s seated behind the wheel. He wants to scream more, yell and break something to deal with the flood of guilt and shame washing him like an old friend.

He never apologized, only pushed it all away like the bullying and harassment never occurred when he started courting you. He’d been in love with you, and that bullying was his sick revenge for making him feel so much adoration for a single individual.

His frame engulfs the seat, muscles taunt and wide chest heaving as he calms down slowly to your silent tears and wobbly bottom lip.

“Katsuki… can we not have any discussions with her in the car…? Maybe we…,” you lick your lips as you fumble over yourself like a nervous wreck in the passenger seat, eyes wide and pacifying as you give him a look filled with a plea. “—Maybe we could have her stay with your mother tonight?”

Because you think he’s angry at you and at her.

For being quirkless.

The most defenseless and precious people to him, the two he’d sworn to never hurt or mistreat, now looking at him with complete devastation and heartbreak. His daughter is never usually so silent and still, sitting like a little doll in her car seat.

He’d always been a confident man. Unshakeable and firm in his resolve because he refused to settle and let himself be anything less than the best.

For all he is though, he’s never felt more helpless and human.

You flinch when the first tear falls.

The sight just as jarring as the realization your child is like you.

Katsuki’s eyes widen before narrowing as he grits his teeth and bares them like a hurt animal, tears spilling as he slams his head on the steering wheel in frustration. The windows tinted and thankfully adding a touch of privacy he’s grateful for now.

“I’m sorry—!” It’s wobbly and hissed like a curse, his apology burning his throat as he forces it out. He can’t look at you as he wipes at his face, shaking his head as he clears it to focus long enough to repeat himself.

“I’m so fucking sorry—never, never did I think less of you ‘cuz you didn’t have a damn quirk—! I was an asshole, a piece of shit that didn’t know how to deal with my crush on you, so I fucking ruined it by picking on you.” His eyes are blood shot, kept wide to prevent anymore liquid spillage but the way his entire face and body scrunch up, it’s difficult to believe he’s able to stop himself on sheer will alone.

“Papa…?” It’s like a slap to the face when he looks over at his daughter to see a spitting image of you both in her, features more like him but personality following you in a way that makes him melt.

“Y’listen good,” he gathers himself up better as he addresses your daughter now. “You will never be less than anyone else, quirk or no quirk, y’hear me?”

“But—,”

“No buts. It’s not up for debate. A quirk doesn’t classify a person’s value. It never has. We just associate them with power when in fact, a bunch of useless quirk havin’ shit stains run the country. A quirk ain’t power kid, power is in will, and that’s all you.” He’s glad you kindly dismiss his slip in language, watching as her little eyes widen and well with tears too.

“So I’m not bad?”

“You’re the best damn thing that’s happened since I met your mom. I love your mom, don’t I? She’s great even if she doesn’t have a quirk. Strong and resilient, patient and smarter than I’ll ever be.” He’s gripping the steering wheel so tight it may break soon if he doesn’t release his grip.

Then he’s being met with you. Your arms wrapping around him, your own muffled cries in his shirt. His hands are around you just as quickly, pulling you into him as much as the small space in the vehicle allows, breathing you in and calming himself as he reaches out and unbuckles your daughter to pull her little body into the bear hug too.

“You mean it…?” Your whisper barely audible as he holds you both close.

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”

And that’s enough for this moment. While he’s not a great man, Katsuki truly never lies, sometimes honest to a point it’s painful.

This is a bittersweet pain though.

Dividers/ @cafekitsune

[controlmyfeet]

i still feel everything when you are near - matty healy

matty healy x ex!reader

angst

warnings: exes, alcohol consumption, insecurities, jealousy (kinda?), pining, kissing, crying (lmk if there’s more i need to add!)

a/n: not sure about this. i think the last time i tried to write fanfiction i was 13, so feedback is appreciated but pls be nice lol. also, english is not my first language!

3570 words

it still hurts. 

i didn't think it would hurt as much after 6 months, but seeing him in the flesh makes me realize it does. i thought i was already used to it, thought i was actually doing a good job moving on, if we ignore my slump in the first 3 weeks after the breakup, where i would just leave the house for work and groceries (that i would overbuy because i forgot i'd just cook for myself), i think i was doing pretty okay.

i should've guessed he would be in the city. he can't stay in one place for too long; if he has a few days free in between shows, he's going to look for a studio to work in. usually in london, los angeles, or here. most of the time, he ends up here.

but i never know where he is anymore.

i deleted twitter from my phone after 2 months. maybe because of the questions, perhaps because i didn't care, or maybe i was tired of reading all the tabloids and fearing they were true. maybe i care too much. whatever, right? it just means i haven't seen him in a while, even in pictures.

i'm sitting by the dark wooden bar counter when i first spot him. he's standing with charli and george in the vip section near the dj booth, surrounded by people as always. my friends noticed that he's here too, but they haven't said anything, which i'm grateful for. i'd rather pretend it doesn't affect me.

he looks different, though. his arms are bigger, and his hair is longer; soft curls fall over big brown eyes that crinkle whenever george says something funny. he still has that boyish smile.

lulu and bea went dancing and i said i'd join them in a minute. we go to this club every time we're in the city, but tonight it is more crowded than usual. my secluded spot at the bar being the only place i won't be pushed around. still, i feel bad. it's my best friend's birthday, and we came to new york together to celebrate, but instead, i'm drowning my sorrows with cosmos. 

"you won't even say hi now?" i hear matty's voice from behind me and turn around, startled. he stands tall and confident as always, but his eyes no longer hold the same energy. here, up close, i can see that his eyebags look more prominent, and his stubble has grown slightly. he looks tired. i don't think i look any better.

"hi," i say, looking into his brown orbs, phlegmatic, as if the butterflies in my stomach aren't going batshit crazy right now "i didn't see you, sorry."

he grins cheekily, "it's alright, darling."

i don't really know what to say. he should hate me, honestly. it wouldn't be surprising considering how we left things, with all the yelling, name calling. with all the broken picture frames. it started with another rumor while he was on tour, another leaked picture. he was so dismissive and vague about it that i just couldn't find it in myself to trust him, and he could only complain about how childish all of it was.

i guess he doesn't, though. they have free drinks inside the vip section. i remember it from when we came here together. he doesn't need to come all the way to the bar for a drink.

"it-it's good to see you," i stutter, apprehensive now. fearing that maybe he really does hate me, and just walked over to tell me how much so. i mean, i would hate him, too, if i could. but no matter how hard i try, i can't. and believe me, i've tried.

matty is standing so close that the loud music sounds muffled now, and the warm, dim light of the bar reflecting on his silky skin makes me want to melt into his arms. so i try to keep my eyes focused on my feet.

he seems to notice that i'm struggling as i fidget with my empty glass.

"can i get you another one?" he asks amicably. my eyes shift from my feet to the glass in my hands and back to his eyes.

"sure," i reply shyly.

he asks a bartender polishing wine glasses next to us for another cosmopolitan. behind the man, shelves from the same material as the counter hold a collection of glass bottles of different colors with labels sporting french and italian names. matty sits on the barstool beside mine. "so…what are you doing here in new york? i thought you hated the city this time of the year." 

and it's true, i hate new york during the summer. the concrete buildings seem to make the temperature much higher, and tourists crowd every corner. it feels claustrophobic. the subway also smells extra bad during these months. but i loved being here with him, no matter the season. i loved being anywhere with him.

"well, yeah. but it's lulu's birthday, and she wanted to celebrate it here, so here we are. the three of us." 

"bea is here too?"

"she is, yeah."

him talking about my friends is familiar. many sunday evenings were spent on his couch sharing a bottle of red with my newest candle burning on the side. at the same time, i'd tell him about the most recent gossip in my friend group, and he would listen.

the barman places the new drink before me and takes the empty glass. i thank him and take a sip of the pink liquid. it's sweet and sour, and the vodka calms my nerves a little bit. he's staring at my lips. so i lick them clean.

he shifts, and suddenly, i feel his calloused fingertips brush against my elbow resting comfortably over the counter. much more tender than last time; my skin burns where he touches it.

"how's your writing going?" he asks, looking into my eyes now.

i tell him i'm still at the magazine, it's going alright. not a lot has changed since we broke up. but it's less exciting, more monotonous. i leave that part out. and he asks me about my own stuff, poems and essays hidden in my drafts.

it's just awkward small talk. so awkward. like we're just acquaintances. friends of friends being left alone, being civil to each other.

it's also a conversation we've had before. documents on my computer that weren't fitting enough for the editors or that i just wrote on a whim. he used to tell me to publish them either way, to leave the magazine and find people who actually appreciate my work, or to start my own thing. but it would be useless; they're not good enough.

"well, i don't know, it's been a while since i've written anything out of work." i take another sip, just to calm down a little. "haven't felt very inspired lately." 

oh my god, shut up– i can't say this to my ex. it's embarrassing, pitiful.

"it happens." he takes my hand and brushes his thumb over my knuckles. i still shiver "you're really talented, love. you should be proud of yourself. i am."

even his praise hurts now; i miss hearing it daily. it's a stab in my chest, salt on the wound. so i just bite my lip and nod. afraid that if i say something, a choked sob will come out. 

there's longing in his eyes, and he gets a look like he wants to say more. but his gaze flickers behind me for a moment, and he drops my hand and gives my left shoulder a squeeze, showing me a soft smile. 

"i'll leave you be, then. it was nice seeing you, love."

there's a voice in the back of my head begging me to make him stay, but i know i can't do that, not when i recall why it ended the way it did. still, i want to reach for his hand and pull him back to me, just for a few minutes at least. but someone grips my shoulders.

"there you are!" lulu says excitedly, already a few drinks ahead of me. her dark blonde hair messy and her skin glimmering with sweat from all the dancing. bea follows right behind her. "c'mon, let's do some shots, you need to power up for all the dancing you owe me."

"alright." i force a giggle and down my drink as bea asks the bartender for three tequila shots.

a few minutes and many shots later, the three of us are on the dance floor, swaying wildly to the loud, thumping bass of whatever music the dj's playing. just being around my girls makes me feel less anxious, and the flashing lights, plus all the alcohol already flowing through my body are making my mind a bit hazy, which helps me let loose a little. 

as i move, i can feel the beat of the music inside my chest, sweaty bodies pushing against me without a care. i even forget about matty for a minute. i don't think about how his hands used to feel on me when we danced together, not at all.

we dance for maybe 30 minutes. until lulu finds one of her many ex-flings, and, as they catch up, bea asks me to go to the bathroom with her. taking my hand, she leads me out of the crowded area and towards the door labeled "ladies' room". 

the contrast from the mostly dark club to the bathroom's white walls makes my eyes squint. it's colder in here, quieter. i can hear the stifled bass from the music and high heels clicking against the floor tiles.

as i wait for bea, i brace myself on the sink in front of me and look into the mirror. everything is happening too fast. talking to matty, downing shots, and being dragged to the dance floor immediately. my head is pounding. i didn't have the time to process what is going on tonight. 

my ears are ringing, and it feels like all the alcohol has suddenly lost all its effect. instantly sobering up, i grab a paper towel and dab it on my arms and face to try to get rid of the sweat. turning on the sink, i wet my hands and place them on the back of my neck to cool down and try to help with the dizziness. i hear the toilet flush, and bea comes out of the cubicle, running her hands through her wavy black hair. i reach into my purse and pull out my lipgloss, coating my lips evenly while looking at myself in the mirror.

"i'm going to the back for a bit," i tell bea as she approaches the sink next to me.

"you okay? do you need water?" she asks, concerned

"yea- yes, i just need to breathe a little."

"okay, text me if you need anything." i just nod and leave the bathroom. she knows me, knows i need to be alone.

pushing through crowded bodies, i head to the club's back door, leading to a narrow alleyway where the employees usually store extra liquor bottles. it also doubles as a smoking area, so i shouldn't be surprised when i see him as soon as i open the door. tattooed arms flexing as he lights a cigarette, probably not his first one of the night, and i turn back to try to leave before he sees me.

"leaving so soon?" i turn around again and already feel my cheeks heating up. embarrassed, like a kid caught eating dessert before dinner. "you can stay."

"it's okay, i'll go somewhere else," i wave him off mindlessly. he came here to enjoy his cig on his own, right? he doesn't need his ex-girlfriend plaguing his chill alone time "i don't want to bother you, i just need some air."

"please stay." it's not the first time he says this, but this time i do. 

with pink-tinged cheeks and heels clicking loudly, i slowly walk down the three small steps in front of the door and move to stand across him with my back resting against the club's brick wall. the warm summer air hits my skin, and i can hear the rustle of the traffic. "you could never bother me." i pretend i didn't hear him.

"i thought you were quitting," i motion to the burning cigarette between his fingers. the moonlight illuminated the alleyway, making the smoke around him look like some kind of silver aura. he smiles at me.

"i'm trying," he says, taking a drag and blowing it out by the side of his mouth, and i laugh.

"it sure looks like it," i reply, still smiling. i'm not as nervous as i expected i would be in this situation; maybe the alcohol hasn't worn off as much as i thought.

he shrugs, running a hand through his hair. "well, you know me".

my eyes follow his every movement, long, calloused fingers holding the rolled paper limply and bringing it up to his red, pouty lips. i start to fidget with the end of my skirt, trying to distract myself by looking at how my fingers twist the fabric. busying myself, so i don't remember how those same lips used to feel against my own or on the curve between my neck and shoulder. 

i look up again when i hear matty step on his cigarette– putting it out– and he starts to walk in my direction. my breath hitches. we are face to face now, noses almost touching. closer than we were at the bar. i can see every freckle on his face when he's this close. i can see the chapped corner of his mouth and the grey that's starting to show up on his now tousled hair.

"why did you leave?" he's straight to the point. his voice comes out low, almost a whisper. at our position, there's no need to be louder than that. there's no hatred in his tone; still, he's not smiling. a flash of hurt appears on his face for a moment. "didn't i make you happy?"

"of course you did, matty." i build the courage to look into his eyes, honey pouring out of them. "we've already talked about this."

he lifts his right hand to rest it on the wall beside my head while letting out a scoff. "but i don't get it," his tone is a little bit louder now. he's not aggressive, but he's not whispering anymore. "what happened?"

"it was for the best." i've stopped whispering too. i place my hands on my forehead. as if to avert the impending headache that will follow this conversation. i don't really know what happened either or when it started happening. i feel sweat droplets running down my hairline, not sure if it's from the summer heat, our closeness, or my disquietude. 

"for the best of who?" he questions, lifting an eyebrow, "i don't feel any better!"

"we were fighting all the time, you know this!" there's a lump in my throat, and i can already feel the pressure between my eyes, working hard so the tears don't fall. i lower my voice again. "it was only a matter of time until one of us left, i just left first."

his gaze softens– probably after seeing my flooding waterline– and it's a while before he talks again, as if he's gathering his thoughts. thinking before he speaks for once, "i could never leave you" it's a low, gravely whisper, and i probably wouldn't have heard it if we weren't this close. "i wish you'd stayed." 

it's a blow to my chest. like a gunshot, blood running down my ribcage. and for a second, i don't think i can breathe.

"i wish you'd done a lot of things, matty." my vision is blurry now, and i feel a single tear roll down my right cheek. i wish he would answer my calls when he stayed late at the studio. i wish he would listen to me when i said i felt neglected. i wish he would give me more security when i felt jealous of the girls partying with him and the boys while i was on the other side of the pond. i wish i stayed. when i can't sleep because i suddenly realize that my bed is too cold, too empty. when i wake up, and there are no kisses on my bare shoulder. when i have to climb over my kitchen counter to reach the can of pasta sauce on the top shelf. when i'm so anxious, and there's no one to hold me… "sometimes i wish i stayed too." 

slowly, his hands cup my jaw. long fingers run lightly across my skin and wipe the lonely tear on my face. the hairs on my neck straighten up, and my heart stirs, beating a little faster. he carefully traces his right thumb over my lower lip, giving me time to reject and push him away. and then, his soft lips lock on mine. no warning. i feel his stubble rub against my chin and let out a sigh. there's a flutter on my lower stomach, burning. i should have pushed him away. instead, my fingers trail up his neck, nails brushing against his skin, and finally into his hair as he coaxes his hot tongue into my mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, of course. i can also taste the rum and lime from the mojito he had earlier. one of his hands travels down and he pulls me by the waist, bodies touching fully now. matty groans into my liquored mouth and i preen; it's good to know i still have that effect on him. that i can still make him let out those pretty sounds with just a kiss. it might be selfish, but we both are. because i bet he's proud too, that every touch of his still sends shivers down my spine. i pull out for air first, lungs already starting to burn. my fingers are still buried in his curls as he rests his forehead on mine, both breathing heavily.

"i need you, love," he whispers against my kiss-swollen lips, voice cracking. there's a smudge of lipgloss on the side of his mouth. it was no use reapplying it.

"matty, i can't," my voice comes out weak, just like how i feel.

"why not? you got somebody?" matty frowns, starting to sound a bit agitated.

i shake my head lightly "i don't."

"what is it?"  

"i already told you" it's my turn to cup his face now, scuff prickling against my palms. "we already had this fight before, you get annoyed because i can't trust you, and i start yelling because you don't take me seriously!"

"of course i take you seriously!" he defends, already becoming increasingly exasperated. i just shake my head; there's no use going through this all over again. it hurt enough the first time. however, i still close my eyes, knowing that if i keep looking at him, the chances of me believing him are higher.

"i'm not built for this, matty," for being away from him, for time zones and phone calls, for pretty girls throwing themselves all over him "i'm not strong enough."

"look at me, baby." his hands moved from my waist up to cup my face again, thumb brushing lightly over my cheekbones. "please," i open my eyes.

"do you love me?" he asks. i realize his eyes are glossed over now "because i love you. so fucking much."

it will be easier if i say no, break his heart all at once. give him a reason to give up. it takes me a while, but i nod.

"yeah?" there's a glimmer of hope on his wet iris.

"i do, but-"

"then we'll figure it out" it's not that simple; just figuring it out is not enough. we hurt each other.

"we'll just end up in the same place, matty," i explain firmly. at this point, tears stream both of our faces. his chest heaves, and i try to contain another sob. he turns his face slightly to press his lips to my palm, just for a second. 

"stay with me, please." our noses touch, and i can no longer distinguish his tears from mine. "i'll do better, i swear."

"it's not going to work."

"just for tonight at least, please," it comes out ragged, and he grazes his lips on mine, leaving a gentle but salty peck. "just for a little bit."

this shouldn't be happening. it's a mess, all of it. no matter how hard or how many times we try, even if we start all over again, we'll just end up in the same place. i know how i am and how he is. our love is tainted, a ticking bomb. so no matter how much i love him, how much i want him, i know we'll just go back to those screaming matches and broken pictures.

but if we keep doing this again and again, maybe then we won't have to say goodbye. at least i won't have to spend an entire lifetime missing him. so maybe just one night won't hurt, right? i've done it a million times. staying for just a little bit won't hurt…i think.

okay, just for a little bit.

[ninapi]

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

- ̥۪��۪˚┊❛ Better Half ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Premise: Nobara forced Yuuji to stop by a food stand every time they came back from a mission. The girl working there always entranced the youngster, causing his teammates to tease him more than usual. An odd encounter brings her a little too close to Sukuna who ends up just as smitten as his counterpart with the young beauty. Which half will get her heart? Only time will tell.

Word Count: 2381

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Old sweet Nobara…

She might be a good friend, sweet, loving teammate, yeah all that and more…but Yuuji had reasons to hate her, as much as he had reasons to love her.

Nobara loved the colorful streets of Tokyo more than anything in her life, she lived for the very little time she had to indulge in the magic of the alleys, though, every time they came out of a particularly tough mission, she would beg her loving teammates to stop by her favorite crepe stand.

“Oh c’mon! Like you don’t like going there as much as I do…More even…”

“I beg to differ…” Megumi plopped on a near by bench hoping that would stop her from walking any further.

“Ok, maybe you don’t. Cuz you’re a grandpa. But Itadori is a different story, isn’t it mate…?” her suggestive smirk made Yuuji uncomfortable to say the least.

“I mean…their crepes are really nice…so fluffy…and…flavorful…” his voice was low, so much more than his usual boisterous one, it was comical.

“Oh yeah, fluffy…definitely…” this made his cheeks turn crimson, his fidgeting getting in Megumi’s nerves.

“Gotta pee or something?”

“NO!”

“He’s just eager to see his lovely crush.”

“So he does like her, huh? I guessed as much to be honest...” heaving a defeated sigh, he got up from the bench being the one leading the team now on their way to the delicious smelling food stand.

“W-where are you going Fushigoro?!” Yuuji trailed after his friends that were currently sharing a mischievous grin like a lost little baby duck.

“Kinda hungry, man…”

“You should try the chicken one, it blew my mind…”

“GUYS! Can you stop for a second?”

“Of course not.”

The sigh that left the pink haired male made them burst into a flush of evil laughter, his sad puppy eyes and frown making him look adorable which just made it all worse for him.

“Aw, baby Itadori needs a hug. Shall we communicate his needs to the cute lady crepe chef?”

“Her name is (Y/N).”

“What? How do you know that Fushigoro? Do you like her too?”

“Too, huh? She has a name tag you moron…”

“Oh….really? I mean…”

“You mean to say you haven’t even glanced at her boobies? Wow, this is worst than I thought, I think he’s in love~” Nobara skipped her way over to the stand, dramatically moving her hands as she was a maiden in distress.

“I hate her…” his puppy eyes turned watery as he shared a look with Megumi.

“Nah…you don’t. Let’s catch up before she really tells her to hug you-“ he hadn’t even finished his sentence when Yuuji was already behind Nobara, a desperate look on his face.

“Ugh, HI!” a high pitch little scream left him, making him even more flustered, your cute giggles making him feel ridiculously happy for some reason.

“Hi~ You want the usual?” He had a usual? He realized he’s never really ordered anything, he just stares at your face from the moment he arrives until he leaves.

“Sure! It’s the best flavor ever!”

Nobara looked up with a raised eyebrow as she adds his order on the screen, “Strawberry cheesecake?”

Is that what he always ate? It was certainly good, girly as hell, but good. “Yeah, I mean is so fluffy, you should try it too, Kugisaki.”

“If you say so, I’ll get one of those then. How about you, Fushigoro? Chicken?” he just nodded, staying silent in the background assessing the situation from afar. He noticed how you’d smile at Itadori a tiny bit brighter than you did to Kugisaki, your pretty eyes sparkled so much that it made him blush, and that, was weird.

Your hands brushed Yuuji’s when you handed him his crepe, then placed the other two in a carrier and gave it over to Nobara. It was very unnecessary, yet you seemed to know how he’s always so hungry and eager, like you knew he wouldn’t wait until he arrived at a place to eat it peacefully, as if he was dying to bite onto it as soon as possible.

And right you were, his first bite was something else… his nose ended up full of wiped cream and that dorky smile of his full of crumbles.

You didn’t have to do anything about it, but you did. You leaned over the counter window and got it off his face with a wet tissue, the adoring smile you had on your face not easily missed by both of his friends.

“Sorry to break the lovey-dovey moment, but Gojo-sensei is waiting for us. We must eat them before he finds out we’ve been eating sweets without him.” she grabbed onto Yuuji’s elbow, dragging him with her like a dog on a leash.

“Ugh…(Y/N)! Thanks! It’s as good as always and I’m so clean now! Feels great! You're the best, your boss should give you a rise or something!”

“Oh for fuck sakes…shut up Itadori…you're embarrassing...”

He was now being dragged away from you by both of his embarrassed friends. His smile though, never leaving his face, just like yours didn’t for the rest of the day.

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“You went where??” Gojo was pacing back and forth in the classroom, lack of sugar being pretty evident in his current behavior making them feel even guiltier.

“We just made a little pit stop on the way, gotta eat too, you know?"

“You didn’t just make a ‘pit stop’…you went to my favorite crepe stand…and didn’t bring me anything….you’re such a soulless bunch of brats…it’s unbelievable…I’m so good with you all and you just…” his sulking increased even further, making Nobara giggle.

“You’re such a drama queen, sensei…”

“King, you mean. King of the world~”

“Ugh, I’m out of here…”

“So what’s wrong with Itadori?” stealing the last bit of his defenseless student’s crepe, Gojo sat on his chair, feet resting on his teacher desk.

“He’s in love…with an older woman…”

“She’s not an older woman!” the little snarl he gave Nobara was one that would rival a feisty tiny chihuahua, but it gave Gojo a pretty good idea of how serious this whole thing was.

“So, who’s this older woman?”

“The crepe stand girl.”

“Oh, ok Itadori’s right, she’s not an older woman…maybe a couple of years older than you at most. She’s a part-timer I believe.” the look in Yuuji’s eyes changed immediately, turning into a soft dreamy one.

“Though, you might want to keep yourself at bay, Itadori. Must I remind you the king of curses lives within you? Just thinking of sweet little (Y/N) being in danger makes me feel sick…” his words were harsh and made Yuuji recoil, he knows this, all too well, but there was no need to worry as much, is not like he was planning on confessing or something.

Without giving as much as a reply to his superior, Yuuji just left the classroom and hid himself in his own room for the rest of the day.

It was so frustrating to him how he couldn’t even have a crush, how much this curse has affected his life and how much he sometimes wished he would get to be a normal teenager once more.

To make things worse, Sukuna has been listening all this time…

Falling in love made Yuuji weak, his defenses were slowly disappearing and his mind was just somewhere else, the perfect timing to go for a little ride.

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Another mission came along the next day, it was an easy reckoning one, over after an hour or so, there was no excuse to go for crepes and for that Yuuji was grateful.

However, Sukuna himself had other plans.

Yuuji’s depressed aura as they walked past the street you worked at was the final push necessary for him to take full control of his host’s body.

“Itadori, how about we get some ice crea- 

Itadori?

Fushigoro…Itadori’s gone-“ looking around desperately there was no sign at all of their teammate.

“What? What do you mean gone?” turning around just as desperate, all he could see was a dust cloud, proof he had been there not long ago, but not just of that, but also of the fact that he had left at an incredible speed.

The amount of cursed energy coming from down the road overwhelmed the young sorcerer, his face paling instantly. “Kugisaki….Sukuna…he’s…he’s here…”

“Tch, of course, he loves coming out when Gojo-sensei isn’t here…What do we do now?”

Megumi’s face was worrying her, he’s not someone to show fear easily, it also meant he had no clue of what to do next and she wasn’t great at this sort of impromptu life saving plans.

“What’s wrong, Fushigoro? Is he going too far this time?”

He just nodded, swallowing his anxiety down, “The crepe stand…”

Now that was playing dirty…he would for sure harm you if that meant getting full control of Itadori’s body, the perfect token for blackmail.

With a frown and unshared words, both ran towards the direction emanating the ridiculous amounts of cursed energy.

Though, what they found at the scene was beyond their expectations.

You were leaning on the window, like you usually do to get closer to Yuuji, like if nothing was out of the ordinary, like he didn’t have a completely different appearance and voice, making Megumi frown with distaste.

While he was fully concentrated on your safety, Nobara had her eyes on Sukuna. Saying his demeanor was odd, would be an understatement.

His smirk was wide, his eyes mischievous, his elbows were leaning on the same windowsill as you were, his face inches from yours. “My lovely angel, would you be willing to go to the depths of hell with me? I mean, hypothetically of course…” his words made you giggle and blush.

In all honesty, you did notice the change, though you didn’t question it much, is not like you had knowledge of curses, therefore the idea of your crush being possessed by an evil curse never crossed your mind.

“Is hell a nice place?”

“It isn’t. But I would make it comfortable for you if you do agree to come with me…”

Megumi’s blood ran cold and without thinking much he grabbed Sukuna by his elbow pulling him away from you, “Itadori…you’re scaring (Y/N)…”

Truth is, he wasn’t though. 

You had a delighted face while talking to him and the flirting has been mutual the entire time.

While Yuuji’s real and sweet persona made your heart skip a beat with his cute shyness, Sukuna’s assertive and even commanding self made your knees weak. 

You didn’t really understand his change in demeanor and you even considered him having double personality, but the truth was simple, you liked both sides equally, and didn’t mind one bit if he indeed had it, he at least seemed to remember you in both states.

But you went along with Megumi’s act, as he looked quite disturbed and worried, he did know him better than you after all.

Megumi’s words seemed to stir something inside Itadori, his eyes switching from a harsh scowl to a soft worrying misty look. He was struggling to gain control back since he really didn’t want to harm the woman he loved and he knew very well what Sukuna was capable of.

“What are you talking about, brat? You like this side of me much better, don’t you gorgeous?” his playful wink made you swoon, causing Itadori’s stomach to sink just a bit.

“I like every side of you. Though, why the face painting? Are you guys performing art students?”

“Something like that…now If you excuse us, we won’t be getting any crepes today, we need to take him home, he needs a bit of…ugh…rest.”

“Think about it babe, alright? If you so wish to, I’ll make you my queen.” 

After his last statement, Yuuji finally managed to wake up and gather his bearings, he felt like crap and had no energy left within his body. With an arm around each of his friends, he was able to get back to the academy in one piece, though, his heart had taken a harsh blow. 

You liked Sukuna…but you also liked him?

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Masterlist

[pupkashi]

my you

gojo learns he moves stargazing

a/n: hi friends ! hope ur all well :] in honor of my you being released on spotify have this !! (also shameless txt insert hehe) i hope u all enjoy and plz let me know what you think !!! i love ready yall’s comments :(

wordcount: 1,063

masterlist

it didn’t take much begging for you to convince satoru to go stargazing with you. after being together for a little over a year, it’s one of the only dates you’d always dreamed of that he hadn’t realized already.

“it’s gonna be hot isn’t it” he pouted and you smiled, watching as he slipped a white t shirt on.

“it’s summer, what do you think?” you teased, giddy as you continued to curate the playlist on your phone.

“i cant believe four seasons have passed with you already” he sighs, a bit dreamy as he takes a seat next to you on the bed, resting his chin on your shoulder and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“time really does fly huh?” you smiled, fondly recalling numerous memories from the past year. “remember when you set that picnic up for our first date and we got rained on” you giggled, satoru’s face flushed at the memory. even a year later he was mortified.

“stop that was so embarrassing! it was so sunny i didn’t think it’d rain” he whined, nuzzling his head into your neck, “cant believe you went on a second date with me after that mess” he smiled.

he remembers the soggy sandwiches and all too sticky candies, the way your hair was absolutely ruined as the rained poured down on the two of you, drenched to the bone when you reached the car.

“i thought it was kinda sweet how you tried to protect me from the rain” you smiled, the image of the then frazzled satoru coming to mind.

an hour later the two of you find yourselves in the car, satoru putting the very same picnic basket in the back seat, filled to the brim with food and blankets. he’s settling into the drivers seat and you rattle off items you made sure to not forget, smiling when he tells you everything’s there.

satoru had never gone stargazing. he can only recall looking at the sky after battles and thinking of how dark and lonely it was. glimmering stars miles and miles away from him. vague memories of times he’d brushed too close to death, laying on the ground and twinkling stars mocking him as his breathing became more shallow.

and now here he is, sitting with you on his car hood as the sun sets, the sky didn’t feel dark and lonely anymore.

there’s warm colors all around him, from the pinks and reds of the sky to the sage t shirt you were wearing. your smile felt warm as you complimented his sandwich, claiming ‘it must’ve been the love’ which he made it with to make it taste so good.

it’s twenty minutes after the sun had set when he realizes it’s blue hour, turning to you with a smile, “guess what hour it is” he grins, eyes sparkling as you immediately pick up his cues.

“blue hour!” you smile, giggling as the two of you break into song, laughing when one of you messes the lyrics up, blaming the other for singing too late.

a year ago he would’ve glanced at the outside, seen the blue hues painting the world and gone about his day. now he sees it and smiles, giddy anytime he reads ‘5:53’ on a clock. memories of the first time you told him it was ‘blue hour’ flashing in his mind, he didn’t really understand exactly what that implied but he shared your excitement either way, only later asking you what it meant.

your snacks are long gone when the stars begin to peek out from the dark blanket of the sky, twinkling ever so slightly when you look up.

“oh they’re so pretty!” you gush, a smile painting your features as you lean onto satoru, laughing when he tries to come up with new constellations.

“that’s the Big Dipper, that much I’m sure of” he states, a bit upset he didn’t have more knowledge to woo you with.

“i think that’s the Little Dipper” you laugh, taking his hand and pointing at the constellation a bit further, “that’s the Big Dipper.”

Gojo’s eyes are peeling away from the sky, instead looking at you, as if you held the stars in your very being. he’s humming in agreement as you make a comment about the stars, some insane fact you read about the other day. he’s hanging on your every word, savoring every passing second that he’s by your side.

when he looks up at the sky, the stars no longer mock him when they twinkle. instead it felt as if they were cheering for him, dancing for joy because he finally found someone to love with every fiber of his being.

your head is resting on his chest as the two of you lay down, soft conversation flowing easily, gasping when you both see a shooting star.

your eyes squeeze closed, your mind racing as you come up with what to wish for.

satoru’s eyes stay open, landing softly on you. his mind doesn’t race and he knows immediately what he wants. he wants to be with you for the as long as he could, to fall deeper and deeper in love with you. he wants four more passing seasons with you, and four after that, and after that, and after that.

he’s carrying your now sleeping body out of the car and into his home, placing you on the couch while he unloads the car. he wakes you gently to get you changed, smiling fondly at your sleepy state, brushing his teeth alongside you and smiling when you yawn as soon as your head hits the pillow.

“gnight toru” you mumble, “today was perfect” you smile, a bit sleepy as you cuddle closer to your lover.

“goodnight sweets” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead, warmth encasing his body the closer to him you moved.

a year later it’s all satoru can think about as you’re closing the picnic basket, a smile on your face as you ask your lover if he’s ready to go.

he nods as you smile, the same glint of excitement in your eyes as you did a year ago, the same playlist with new additions playing as you drive out to the country side. the same stars the two of you visit ever so often awaiting the two of you with warmth.

[thewritetofreespeech]

MC + Cursed Toddler-fied Boys (part 2)

prompt: I did a scenario a while ago for the ‘The Forbidden Book of Toddlerization’ event, but realized I never did one for the B-list boys. This must be rectified. (part i)

Diavolo

Seriously. You all needed to stop leaving cursed books around.

Once ‘The Forbidden Book of Toddlerization’ had been recovered from the last time it fell into the wrong hands, it had safely be tucked away in the archives. Where it was to remain, to your knowledge, for all of known time.

Or at least a year. Whichever came first, apparently, since someone had taken it out a let it on the loose.

“I can’t find him.” Barbatos bemoaned with a sigh as you both continued to search for his master. “You don’t think he could have wandered off somewhere? In his current state, there’s no telling what mischief he’d get into. Or worse, if people see him like this.”

“Diavolo is a pretty level headed guy.” You assure him.

“You don’t know what he was like when he was younger.” He sighed again as he closed the doors to one of the wardrobes, finding no young master in it. “Maybe he’s in the garden. I’ll check there.”

“I’ll keep searching in the castle.” You told him. To which Barbatos nodded and took his leave.

Once he was out of the door, and out of ear shot, you heard rustling under the bed that piqued your curiosity. “Diavolo?” You asked as you pulled back the bedding. “What are you doing under there?”

“SSShhh!” He hissed with a finger to his lips. “I’m hiding from Barbatos. I don’t want him to find me [Y/N].”

“So you masked your presence so he couldn’t find you.” Clever, for the mind of a child. “Why are you hiding from Barbatos?”

“Because if he finds me he’ll make me do work.” You tilted your head to the side, and Diavolo scrunched in tighter on himself. “He’s always making me do things I don’t want to. Write my lessons. Learn new spells. How to speak at public outings. It’s never any fun and it’s all work, work, work!”

“True. But we all have to do things we don’t want to now and then.” Although, this didn’t sound a lot different than Diavolo’s normal schedule these days. “Diavolo, did you open the book and curses yourself so you could get out of work for a few days?” His eyes shyly darted over towards you before they darted away again. “Diavolo.”

“I just didn’t want to be a grown up anymore!” He whined. “It’s never any fun. I never get to do what I want. People are always counting on me.”

You nodded. “I guess that isn’t very fun.” You shift around to lay on your stomach and be eye-to-eye with Diavolo under the bed. “We have fun together though, don’t we? And you don’t need to put a curse on yourself to make it happen. If you ever need a break, just call me. We can play together anytime.”

Diavolo grinned and gave a firm nod. “Can we play battleships and sea monsters once, before Barbatos has to change me back?”

“Sure. I think we have time for that.”

Barbatos

It was a wonder that this castle ran at all without Barbatos around. He had only been cursed for a few hours, and it already seemed like everything was falling apart.

“Boys! Seriously! Can you try to not break everything in the castle??”

“We’re trying, but this is really hard!” Mammon argued.

“Yeah,” Levi agreed, “cut us some slack. We only pretend to be butlers now and then. We don’t have the refined, gentlemanly arts of real butlers.”

“Barbatos does it.”

“He is a Satan.” Lucfier replied. “Why don’t you go check on him? I’ll try to keep them out of anymore trouble in their effort to ‘help’.” You sighed and left to do as you were told. At least you would be away from the sound of crashing.

“Barbatos?” You called as you opened the door. “Are you feeling ok?”

“Oh yes [Y/N].” Barbatos replied. Looking up at you with soft eyes from his small table setting on the floor. “We are having a tea party. Would you like to join?”

You looked around to see a pile of books, one ornate pillow, and an actual stuffed rabbit sitting in a circle with him. Each with a china tea cup in front of them. “Um….sure.” You come over and sit cross legged beside Barbatos as he prepared you a cup as well. “Who are we having tea with?”

“This is Lady Downing. She is from the region of comforter and came all this way for chamomile tea.” You awkwardly wave at the pillow. “This is Lord Booksly. He’s very well read.” You snort out a laugh as you take your tea. “And this is Thaddeus. He is a rabbit.”

“No title for Thaddeus?” You ask while sipping your tea.

“Rabbits can’t have titles. They don’t hold land. Because they are rabbits.” You let out a knowing ‘ah’ at the explanation, and choose to take Barbatos word for it.

You finish off the tea with Barbatos and soon enough, with his great powers, the curse wore off. He thanked you for keeping an eye on him and came out of his room to inspect the castle after the boys had ‘helped’. “Well….I suppose it’s the thought that counts….”

Simeon

The sound of foot steps barreling down the hall announced Simeon before he entered the room. “[Y/N]! [Y/N]! Can you read this book to me??”

You set your own book down and look over at him with a smile. Since his cursed episode, you had been watching Simeon to make sure he didn’t get into any trouble. Which, was pretty easy. He didn’t usually seek out trouble, and must have been a good cherub in his youth, because he just sat and read all day with you. The only ‘up roar’ he caused was when he went to find a ‘big boy’ book and have you read it to him.

“Sure. Which one did you pick?” He handed it to you and you have to snicker, finding a TSL book in your hand. “Wow. What a good choice.”

“Do you like this book?” Simeon asked, bright eyed, as he sat cross legged in front of you.

“Yes. I do. In fact the author is a very good friend.”

“Really???” He gushed, and you were literally biting your tongue not to laugh.

“Yep. He’s very nice. And funny. And handsome.”

“Can I meet him one day?”

“I’m sure you will.” You smirk as you open the book and start to read.

Later, when the curse had worn off, Simeon was very embarrassed that he had picked his own writing as his favorite book. “It’s a little narcissistic, don’t you think?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you told him, “sometimes you need to be your own best fan.”

Raphael

You shouldn’t be surprised that it was quiet. Raphael was usually a very quiet person. But, if dealing with children had taught you anything it was when children were quiet something bad was going on.

“Hey there Raphael. Whatca doin’?”

“Coloring.” He replied. Still completely focused on his drawings.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Not as serious as you thought. “Can you tell me what you’re drawing there?” Thinking it would be a nice woodland scene. Or maybe some places around the castle.

“The Plauges.”

Your face went very pale at his answer and Raphael turned his picture around to show you. “That’s the river of blood. Those are the frogs & locusts sent to barren their crops. This is when Father sent the suffer and ash to destroy the cities of the sinners. This guy is dead because he got hit in the head with one of the rocks.”

“O….Oh…well that’s very….descriptive.”

Raphael smiled and went back to coloring. Completely obvious to the anxious knot that just tied itself in your stomach. Should you like….lock the door or something?

You asked Raphael about his picture when he was back to normal and he snorted. “Don’t be absurd.” He chastised. “The sinners were obliterated on impact when the suffers came. There would be corpses on the ground like this.”

+ Luke

Finally. The ‘Forbidden Book of Toddlerization’ was put away and out of sight. Hopefully under lock and key, and prepared to be thrown into the bottom of the ocean.

You let out a big sigh as you flop down into a chair. Letting all the stress of this week from a new batch of boys acting like children seep out of your bones. You suppose it wasn’t so bad. They were all kind of cute.

“Hey [Y/N],” Your ears pick up when you hear Luke’s voice.

“What is it Luke?”

“I was in the library looking for a new recipe book and came across this one.” He came into view and your face went white as you saw what he was holding. Your nightmare still very true. “Do you know what it is?”

“Luke don’t touch that!” You shout. Which startled the sweet lad, and causing him to drop the book and crack open. It’s powers activating and a big puff of smoke filling the room.

You cough and bat the smoke clouds away, not sure what was going on. This hadn’t happened before with the other curses. So you feared the worse as you called out for Luke. “Luke? Luke? Are you there?”

“I think so.” An older, deeper voice called back and, as the smoke selected, the statuesque figure of a young man was standing there. “I feel tall.”

Your mind went blank as you stared up at the young man in front of you. It was clearly Luke. You could tell from his eyes. But this hadn’t happened with anyone else. “What is going on?”

“The book must have realized I was already a kid and switched it in reverse.” He reasoned, taking a look at himself. “Instead of making me younger, it made me older. Both mentally and physically.”

“That makes sense.” Or as much sense as the evidence, and every other weird thing that had happened in your life in the Devildom, allowed. “Hopefully it wears off as quickly as the others.”

“I don’t.” Luke interjected. “I hate being the youngest. No one takes me seriously, or treats me like a joke.” You supposed that might be true. Unintentional, but true. “Plus, when I’m my real age, I can’t do this.” Luke‘s hand reached out towards your chin to clasp it, before he leaned in towards you. “You don’t take me seriously either.”

Your mind froze again as he continued to lean in. Clearly for a kiss. Unsure how to stop him or how to get your head wrapped around the situation, even as he came closer.

Luckily, just before your lips touched, there was another puff of smoke and Luke was at his proper size again. “Hn? What happened?”

“Nothing!” You clipped. You quickly scramble to get the book up off the floor and held it in a death grip. “You just grabbed the wrong book. I’m gonna….keep it with me for a while.” You hustle out of the room in a flash, then pull out your phone to ask, “hey Karasu-san, where is the nearest beach?”

[ghostofthemost141]

Lindor

Pairing: Ghost x F!Reader, First POV, no use of (Y/N)

Word Count: 1,404

About: You and Ghost have disclosed feelings for each other, knowing that it's forbidden to be together in y'alls line of work. Noneoftheless, Ghost ends up in your room one night and you end up sharing a chocolate bar together.

Themes: Fluff, Suggestive Themes but Nothing Explicit, 18+

Notes: Zara is your nickname for this one, which means 'blooming flower' and it comes from the word Zahrah from Arabic roots. I enjoyed doing this but I hope I didn't write Ghost out of character. Enjoy!

It’s forbidden, you can’t act on your feelings. You’ll get booted from the team if you do it. But he makes it so damn hard to do that. Whether it be a brush up against my hand or even just a glare from across the room, my feelings grow more and more for him every single little thing he does to me. I can’t tell if it was intentional or not but it has to be. The fact that he always sits next to me on the lounging couch at base or always insists on going on a task with me if I was going to be alone or I always catch him staring first. I never expected Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley to be that kind of person, a ‘hopeless romantic’, but I guess you never know with people. I have never even seen his face under that skull mask or even the balenciaga he wears, but I can only imagine what he looks like. He makes me feel things that I have never felt about a person before and I hate myself for it. He is my Lieutenant, it would never work out. 

*KnockKnock*

Who could that be? I’m not expecting anyone. Am I? 

“You in ‘here, Zara?” 

Simon. That was Simon’s voice. What on Earth would he want with me? I scanned over my little cubicle room, seeing it was mostly tidy.  

“Yeah come in.” I announce. 

The door swung open and Simon stepped in, shutting the door behind him. He wore his skull balenciaga with a black hoodie on and gray jeans on. Even though we are on call duty, we can still be in our lounge clothes just as long as we can get dressed and ready into our gear in less than two seconds. 

“What’s up?” I asked as he came and sat on my bed with me sitting on my desk chair that was right near my bed. 

“Can’t sleep.” Simon mumbled. 

I peeked at my clock seeing it was nearing midnight. I didn’t even notice the time, had I been thinking that much?  

“I’m sorry, rough day today?” I offer him to vent. 

Today was arguably our slowest day ever. Just last week we had come back from a nearly month long mission and since we came back, there hasn’t been much to do except drink and do stupid shit around base, and even then that can become boring after so many times of doing it. Simon mostly keeps to himself during the day and does his own thing. No one sees him until it’s dinner time. 

“No, just boring as shiet.” Simon mumbled. 

“I feel that.” I agreed. 

Even though he wasn’t looking at me, just sitting there on my bed, looking down on the floor, made my heart race. Why was he even here? I didn’t understand it. I found myself staring at his hands. I don’t think I have ever seen him without his iconic gloves on. His hands looked so soft and smooth. You can tell by someone how they take care of their hygiene and his nails were neatly trimmed and cleaned which is very Simon. I could see that for sure. 

“Zara.” 

Simon’s deep voice brought me back to reality and I realized he caught me staring. 

“Yes, L.T?” I say, trying to act like I wasn’t, in fact, staring. 

His eyes pierced into mine, intimidating me strongly. 

“Is that a book you’re reading?” Simon asked, eyeing the open book that was on my desk. 

“Yeah, I am just rereading it, already read it once before.” I comment, closing the book and admiring it. 

“What’s the poin’ in that?” He asked. 

“Well when you enjoy something so much, you want to revisit it again because of the joy it brings you. And if something really brings you joy, then you revisit it multiple times, basically.” I explained. 

“Interesting.” He mumbles, averting his eyes from me. 

Alright, awkward silence, thank you Simon. Really appreciate it. I reached into my desk drawer and peeked into my hidden stash of assorted chocolates and candies. It’s hidden because if Gaz or Soap found it, it’d be dryer than the Sahara desert. I wasn’t even sure if Simon likes this sort of thing. I could see mints being his favorite candy. Oh well, one way to find out. I pulled out a Lindor Milk Chocolate bar and shut the drawer. 

“Want some?” I offer, showing him what it was in clear view. 

“Sure.” Simon mumbled. 

I opened the candy bar halfway and reached out to hand it to Simon, giving him first dibs. 

“No, I just want one piece.” He grumbled. 

You’re really gonna make this hard for me aren’t ya?  I broke off the first piece and stretched my arm out to Simon. He didn’t move at first, and instead just stared at it. It’s just chocolate dude, not a bomb. Suddenly Simon pulled his mask up enough just for his mouth to be exposed, leaned forward, without moving his butt off my bed, grabbed the chocolate with his teeth and took the piece out of my finger. He chewed the piece of chocolate slowly and eventually swallowed it, looking satisfied from the mini dessert. 

…

…

What just happened? That was weird. I didn’t expect him to do that. But for the record, I have never seen him without his mask off, let alone what his lower half looked like. His skin was light, with little blonde stubble on his chin, with his clean light pink lips. He is not helping my situation right now. 

“That was good, actually. Could I have another?” Simon asked, not hiding that light smirk that was on his lips. 

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” I answer, snapping out of my delusion. 

There is no way, you’re being delusional Zara. Here you are calling yourself by the nickname that the Task Force gave you instead of your real name. You have really gone off the deep end. I broke off another piece, held it in my fingers, and stretched my arm out to Simon. This time he did it almost instantly. He reached for it, with his tongue agape from his mouth, and I felt his tongue make contact with my fingers, sending instant chills down my spine and into my core. Simon kept his teeth on the chocolate and locked eyes with me. His deep, dark blue eyes staring into my soul as he slowly gripped the chocolate with his teeth and pulled it away from my fingers, consuming it. The cold air in my room confirmed that he did indeed lick my fingers. What is this man doing? 

“Your face is bloody red.” Simon said. 

“Shut up.” 

“That’s no way to talk to your Lieutenant.” Simon remarked, with a deep tone. 

His voice change went straight to my core. It was tingly and it made me shiver. 

“Simon what are you-” 

*SMOOCH*

Simon’s lips are on mine, Simon’s lips are on mine, Simon’s lips are mine, Simon’s lips are on mine, Simon’s lips are on mine, Simon’s lips are on mine, Simon’s lips are on mine, why, why, why, why, why-

Simon’s lips were soft against my dried up ones, keeping our lips connected as he held my cheek with his hand. His bottom lip tugged with my lip a little causing me to gasp, and he deepened the kiss. His soft fingers went into my hair, tugging slightly, but not too hard. I instinctively held his face as he continued to kiss me. My entire body was hot and heavy, until he let go of the kiss, but kept his hands on me. 

“Hm.” Simon chuckled, “your nickname is true to its word.” 

I was confused, what was he implying? Simon then leaned in, placed a kiss on my forehead and pulled away from me. 

“Thanks for the chat.” Simon thanked me as he headed towards my door. 

“You’re welcome, anytime. You’re welcome to do that, anytime.” I emphasized the last part. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow ‘hen.” Simon said, “Goodnight, Zara.” 

“Goodnight L.T.” 

Simon then left my room, shutting the door behind me. I was still holding the Lindor chocolate bar that started this whole mess. 

“It’s your damn fault I got left hanging.” I grumbled at the bar, putting it on my desk and slamming myself onto my bed. 

Simon, you’re such an ass. But my God you’re a handsome ass. 

END 

[five-rivers]

The Soul Trade(ing Card Game) Chapter 2

As was dictated to me by the poll, I have delivered.

(AO3)

.

.

.

“So, uh, Batman,” said Constantine, hating everything about this, “I’ve gotta ask you something.”

“Hn,” said Batman, and Constantine understood he had the man’s whole attention, even though he didn’t look away from the screens arrayed before him.  Monitor duty.  Constantine was glad the Justice League Dark didn’t have to do that.  

(At least, he thought they didn’t.  If anyone had ever told him they did, he had promptly forgotten about it.)

“I need you to look into whoever left me this letter.”  He dropped the letter on the desk next to Batman and flexed his hands.  Yeah, the magic in it was sure something, but it was passive, as far as he could tell, traces picked up from being around something infinitely nastier.  It was safe.  Probably.  It hadn’t blasted any of the people who had handled it between the desk in the Hall of Justice and the Watchtower, anyway.  

Batman glanced up only briefly before taking the letter.  He read it, quickly, without his posture changing at all.  

“Hm,” he said, the tone of the grunt just slightly more contemplative.  “Are the claims in this letter legitimate?”

“Well,” said Constantine, “let’s just say that reading it felt like…”  His face twisted as he tried to find the words to describe what it had felt like.  “Yeah.  Even if this bloke doesn’t have everything he says he does, he has… a lot.  There are traces on the letter, magically speaking.”  

“What’s the effect of that?”

“God if I know,” said Constantine.  “I didn’t even notice this.  At least, he could go ahead and cast whatever spells on me he wants.  Soul’s a lot more intimate.”

With a press of a button, the screens went dark.  “You shouldn’t be up here if you’re compromised.”

“Hey, I didn’t even know about this until ten minutes ago!”

“Return to ground.”  Batman stood and loomed over him.  “I’ll look into who sent this letter and tell you my findings.”

That was probably the best Constantine was going to get.  Honestly, he didn’t even want to be on this glorified deathtrap in the sky.

He didn’t like the feeling of getting kicked out, though.  

“I’m going to need the letter back.  I’ve got my own tests to run on it.  Get an idea of what kind of nasty we’re dealing with.  Magic stuff.”

Batman handed it back.  “I’ll walk you to the Zeta Tubes.”

.

“What do you mean someone bought your soul?” asked Zatanna.  “I thought you’d already sold it ages ago.”

“Yeah, but I guess souls can be resold.  Should’ve realized that demons would try to replicate the whole banking hellscape we have here.”

“Pardon?”

“Nevermind,” said Constantine, letting himself sprawl backwards in the chair.  It leaned dangerously, the weak leg bending.  “I did sell it.  I sold it a bunch.  Got it set up so no one could really claim it without the others freaking out.  Set some time limits on a few earlier ones, that worked pretty well, but, eventually, that didn’t work anymore, no one would bargain for that, and I figured my soul was pretty much a lost cause anyway…”  He tucked his hands in his pockets and fingered the lid of his flask.

“Don’t you dare start drinking while I’m here.”

He hauled himself forward.  “Far as I can tell, what’s written in the letter is true, as far as the owning part goes.  The whole sorry bit and the let’s meet bit, I’m less clear on.”

He did have some thoughts on how to deal with it.  But he wasn’t sure how well it’d work, and the guy - if it even was a guy - was a complete unknown.  

He shrugged.  “I was hoping for a second opinion.”  And maybe a bit of… comfort.  Something.  It felt like the only time he saw Zatanna anymore was if the Justice Morons were poking at stuff no one sane would come close to with a ten foot pole.  

(He missed her.)

(He missed when they used to be an item.)

(Which was stupid of him.  But he’d never claimed not to be.)

(She wanted to keep things professional though, so.  He’d try.)

Zatanna paced around the table.  It was clear except for the letter, Constantine having expended much effort into cleaning it off (dumping it onto the nearest alternate flat-ish surface, the seat of a sagging armchair).

“I don’t know how much more I can tell you.  There’s magic here, but it’s traces, and it’s… muddled.  Do you mind?”

“Go ahead, love.”  So much for being professional.  Sue him.  Some things just slipped out.

Zatanna nodded, evidently not even noticing.  “Laever ruoy sterces,” she said, staring intensely at the letter.  She shook her head.  “Laever sesruc.  No, no curses, at least.  That’s a relief?” 

“Yeah, I guess.  But he doesn’t exactly need to curse me through a letter if he’s got everything he says he’s got.”

“Don’t give up just yet.  Let me try a few other things.  Ezylana eht snigiro fo eht lacigam secart no sight retter.  Wow, huh.”

“What?”

“Well, like I said, there are all sorts of magical traces on this thing.  Demon magic, which is expected, bits of yours, some of the ambient stuff the Watchtower picks up… but there’s also a lot of spirit magic.”

“You think we’re dealing with some kind of shaman?  A summoner?”  In addition to demons and whatever else, that was.  

“Maybe,” said Zatanna.  “There’s death, here, too, but I can’t tell if it’s outright death magic or necromancy.”

Constantine groaned.  “The difference is academic.  I’m screwed.  S’pose I should be grateful or something he didn’t hit me with a compulsion to show up and grovel in front of him, felt the need to give me a heads up before he tortures me for sport or whatever necromancers do for fun.”

Zatanna made a face, but it was very telling that she didn’t deny it was a possibility.  

“Just promise me you won’t go looking for this person on your own.”

“Yeah, I’ve got the Bat on it.  You know him.  Tall scary guy.  World famous detective.  About as boring as he is scary with all his rules.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Zatanna.  “You’re going to need magical backup for this.  Call me.  Or at least someone who knows what they’re doing.”

The opposite of what he wanted to do, really.  People died often enough around him without actively dragging them into his problems, and this was a massive problem.  

“Can’t make any promises.”

.

Because Constantine couldn’t really do anything else about the letter or its contents (besides scream inside his head and swear at himself), he decided to go about business as usual.  Exorcisms, investigations, a touch of vampire stabbing, a few (disappointingly dry) ghost hunts.  Normal stuff.  

At least, it was normal until the demons started to run away from him.  They didn’t usually do that, not even the weak ones.  He did have a reputation, but not one like that.  His reputation was that of a cheat and a con… and someone who got people close to him killed.  None of that really put off bloodthirsty demons, who were a right pain to genuinely kill, and who often as not had some connection to old Lucy.  

But they were running now, and not just the weaker ones.  They weren’t even fighting him.  Not getting hellfire tossed at him was nice, but demons were not nice.  Ever.  

So, what could he do but catch one?

He walked around the circle, double checking to make sure the scuffle with the little imp hadn’t scuffed any lines.  He’d made mistakes like that before, and they were never pretty.  

“So,” he said, lighting a cigarette, “what’s a demon like you running from little old me for?”

The demon, predictably, hissed at him.  Constantine rolled his eyes.  Typical.

“I’m going to ask you again, and if you don’t answer, things are going to get real unpleasant for you.”  He pointed at those circle.  “Read ‘em, if you don’t believe me.”

The demon arched itself like a cat, which was an interesting choice seeing as it wasn’t at all cat shaped.

“You were chasing us, John Constantine,” it said in a deep voice that belayed its size.  

“Yeah, and that’s usually your lot’s cue to turn around and jump me.  What’s different?”

The demon laughed, unpleasant and high-pitched like a teakettle coming to a boil.  “What’s different?  What’s different?  John Constantine, you know what’s different.”

“Humor me here.”

It chuckled and started pacing around the inside of the circle.  “Who owns you, John Constantine?” it asked in a silky voice.  “Where is your soul, John Constantine?  Not with you.  Not with the First of the Fallen.  Not with any of the princes of hell, or any god in its palace.  Who owns you, John Constantine?”

“What, you’re saying that just because Lucy doesn’t have dibs on me when I die anymore, none of you are interested?  Try the other one, it has bells on it.”

“Fool!” shouted the demon, now sounding disturbingly human.  “Fool!  Fool!  A fool you are, but we are not, oh, no.  No, no, no, we are not.  What manner of thing could steal from them?  What manner of thing could satisfy so many demons?  What manner of thing could have such essence that it clings to you even now?  Who owns you, John Constantine?”

Those were some good goddamn questions.  “You’ve got a name for me, or is this you saying you don’t actually know, you’re just so freaked by the idea of it you’re shaking in your boots?  Scales.  Whatever.”

“Do not mock us, John Constantine,” it said, back to sounding properly demonic.  “We are no fool!  We know you will suffer.”

Yeah, well, that was just the natural state of the universe, wasn’t it?  In any case, it didn’t look like this little punk had any idea what it was talking about.  They didn’t tend to be very bright, just smart enough to parrot what they overheard from more powerful demons and dumb enough to give up information when threatened with basic binding spells.  

He banished the imp back to Hell with a twist of his fingers.  

So.  Whoever or whatever had gotten their hands on Constantine’s soul, they were scary enough that demons didn’t want to draw its attention by getting involved with Constantine.  Which was.  Yeah.  Not great.  Story of his life.  

He’d known that they’d have to be nasty, sure.  They’d have to be, to get all of Constantine’s contracts.  Constantine hadn’t sold his soul to just anybody.  Those first three bastards especially had power.  Hell, they’d cured his terminal lung cancer.  Partially to avoid a war but mostly to be petty.   

Admittedly, after that, he hadn’t been quite so discerning.  Or careful about the wording.  But he knew that so long as old Lucy had his eyes on him and a finger on his soul, no one would dare collect.  

A lot of good that did, in the end.

Who would Lucifer trade with?  Why would he give up the right to torture Constantine eternally post-mortem?  

Constantine was getting sick of not knowing.  He was tempted to just go to that meeting spot, but without more information, that would be unforgivably stupid.  Constantine was not stupid.  Usually.  

His Justice League communicator (foisted on him by the Bat) pinged obnoxiously at the bottom of one of his pockets.  He’d forgotten it was in this coat.  He sorted through his pockets crossly as it pinged again.  It had better be important.  He found it under a crumpled bag of crisps and yanked it out with a spray of crumbs.  

“What?” he said, shortly.  

“Constantine,” came Batman’s deep, gravelly rumble.  “I have news.”

Well, crap.  “You gonna share that news this century?”

“It would be better to discuss this in-person.  You do not have a secure computer.”

“Jesus,” said Constantine.  He would have argued, but, technically, Batman was doing him a favor.  “Fine, you paranoid maniac.  Where?”

.

‘Where’ turned out to be a low-risk interrogation room in the Hall of Justice.  Constantine was not a fan of this arrangement, but he understood it.  He was compromised, or whatever, and the interrogation rooms were private and had video screens.  

On the other hand, it was in America, and even Zeta Tubes couldn’t help with jetlag.  And, worse, it was nonsmoking.  

Batman personally escorted him to the room, and turned on the main screen with a remote control.  Pictures of a pale-skinned teen with blue eyes and black hair sprung up.  School pictures, mostly, but some looked like ID pictures, one was on the cover of a magazine, and another looked like an avatar in a video game.  

“Do you recognize this boy?”

“One of your kids?” asked Constantine.

“Answer the question.”

“No, I don’t know him.  Should I?”

“He’s the one who dropped the letter off.”  

“You’re joking.”

In answer, Batman clicked the remote again, bringing up surveillance videos of the Hall of Justice’s main desk taken from various angles.  The clips started off looking normal, the overly clear, expensive footage characteristic of an organization associated with Batman.  

But then, static swam over them.  Not enough to fully obscure the figure walking into the frame, but enough to be obvious.   The boy from the pictures.  He walked to the desk, had a short conversation with the receptionist during which he handed over the letter, and then left, taking the static with him.  

“Well, hell,” said Constantine.  It had been a while since he’d seen a demon take a form like that, but he supposed this one must have learned that he had a soft spot for kids.  Or maybe this was a kid.  A demon kid.  He’d thought he’d taken care of all of his, but wouldn’t have been the first time he’d screwed up, and this whole situation was a collection of screw ups.  

“Do you know what could cause the static?”

“Whole range of spells, but I’m gonna bet you already knew that from Zatanna.”

“Hm,” said Batman.  “The name of the boy is Daniel Fenton.  He is fifteen years old, and his major claim to fame is discovering that a purple-backed gorilla on loan to his local zoo was female.  He also makes an occasional appearance on the leaderboards of the video game ‘Doomed,’ where he is a well known player.”

“A demon playing video games.  Now I’ve seen it all.”  It wasn’t so much that demons couldn’t have hobbies, he just didn’t care to learn them, if they weren’t relevant to beating the crap out of them or tricking them into taking a holy water shower.  Then again, there was an outside possibility that ‘Daniel’ wasn’t a demon.  “Any of this have a point?”

“Establishing facts,” said Batman.  “It is possible that you had encountered him via the internet.”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who plays video games?”

Batman clicked the remote again, a map appearing on the screen, a blinking dot appearing in the middle of nowhere, US.  “Daniel lives with his older sister, Jasmine, and their parents Drs. Jack and Madeline Fenton in Amity Park.”

“Amity Park?” repeated Constantine.

“Is it familiar to you?”

“I think I looked into it once.  Supposed to be haunted.  Veil there is maybe a little thin, but nothing on the Tower of London, or, hell, the British Museum.  You wouldn’t believe what all those stolen grave goods can get up to together.  Your permanently overcast city is more haunted.  It’s a dead end.”

“Maybe not.  The Drs. Fenton are friends with the billionaire Vladimir Masters, but primarily derive their income from their patented inventions, which include customized ‘branding’ toasters, high-efficiency toilet paper, ultra-lightweight camping gear, various treatments for radiation poisoning, and several items that have been marked classified by the Department of Homeland Security and the Department of Energy, for their use of dangerous energy sources.”

Constantine’s eyebrows went up.  Mad scientists mucking about with radiation were generally not in his wheelhouse.  Or even riding the same tracks, for that matter.  “You think they went poking around in the occult for their ‘dangerous energy sources?’”  

“Possibly,” said Batman.  “In addition to their inventions, they are moderately well-known in ghost hunting communities, which explains their presence in the reportedly-haunted Amity Park.  However, everything they’ve written on the subject indicates that they believe ghosts have a strictly scientific explanation.  They also,” continued Batman, the corners of his mouth pulling into a slightly deeper frown, “believe that ghosts are nonsentient and nonsapient.”

“So, they have no idea what they’re talking about.  Just some big brains that got sucked in by the kind of fraudsters who started the seance craze.  Great.  I’m sure Deadman’d love to have word with them.  If they could even see him.”  He rubbed his chin.  “But the must’ve run into something real if their kid’s doing all this.  Or if what looks like their kid’s doing all this.”

“You don’t believe Daniel Fenton is the one in the video?”

“Lemme put it this way.  Odds of a random kid pulling one over on the demons I sold my soul to are about the same as you developing a sense of humor.  Best case scenario, he’s just possessed, or he’s some kind of freak like Klarion.”  

Batman grunted in acknowledgement.  “Approximately six months ago, Jack Fenton purchased an ‘authentic demon soul contract’ from Ebay.”

Constantine opened and closed his mouth several times.  “You’re joking.”

“As you are aware, I have no sense of humor.”

“Jesus Christ.  Ebay?”

“The seller was a man named Eric Chambers.  Zatanna investigated him earlier this week.  He is, apparently, an amateur demonologist who wanted to ‘get out of the game’ and was in the process of selling off all his magical paraphernalia.  He had sold several additional versions of your soul contract to another buyer in Amity Park.  A known associate of Daniel Fenton named Samantha Manson.  Are any of these names familiar to you?”

“Not exactly,” said Constantine.  “But… Ebay?”  He’d never thought his soul was anything special, but at least he’d thought it was worth enough to not be resold on Ebay.  “And how did this Chambers bloke get them?”

“Apparently, the demons he’d summoned no longer wanted them, and he was under the impression that he could ‘put you under his thrall’ if he collected enough of them.”

So the guy who had his soul wasn’t even the first one to have the idea.  Brilliant.  

“And that’s it?”

“I could tell you Daniel Fenton’s grades and internet habits,” said Batman.  “As well as those of his close friends and associates.  Apart from his parents and his recent involvement with you, he is ordinary.”

“The thing with the gorilla is ordinary, then?”

“Most people have at least one outlier event in their lives.  It would be of greater concern if he did not.”  He paused, staring long and hard at Constantine.  “What are your initial thoughts?”

“That I’m about to get screwed up the–”

“Regarding how Daniel Fenton got involved in this.”

“Like I said, it’s probably not Daniel Fenton.  I’d guess…  If I had to guess, I’d say that after Fenton’s dad got hold of that contract, he went and played around with it.  Something like a genuine contract can be used to do a lot.  It has the magical signatures of both the original demon and whatever sorry bastard signed it.  If you’ve got that, you can ring up the demon.”  He raised his hands, miming a scale.  “Demon, inexperienced idiot teenager…”  He tilted to one side.  “You get the picture.”

And, yeah, wasn’t it great that he could cause people to die just by leaving his junk everywhere?  He hadn’t learned anything from the dream sand.  

“You believe Daniel Fenton summoned a demon that possessed him, which then proceeded to collect your soul contracts?”

“Yeah.  Can you pull up a pic of the contract Jack Fenton bought?”

Batman briefly examined the remote, then flicked quickly through several slides, stopping, finally, on a very classic demonic soul contract.  Constantine had signed several like that, so he had to squint at it and read through it line by line.  It wasn’t like he memorized the handwriting of every demon he’d ever made a contract with.  In fact, he’d memorized the handwriting of exactly zero demons.  They didn’t precisely write a lot, and you either got illegible chicken scratch or equally illegible ornate gothic script.  

He got to the name and swore.  “That guy doesn’t have the power to go up against the First of the Fallen.”  He rubbed his chin vigorously.

“It’s possible that Chambers sent a different contract to the Fentons,” said Batman, “or Daniel was… infected after receiving the other contracts.”  More pictures popped up on the screens.  “However, there is a problem with this theory.”

“Yeah?” asked Constantine, already scanning the contracts.  The Bat didn’t like Constantine’s ideas.  What else was new?  

“Daniel’s behavior has had no significant changes in that six month time frame.  But if we go back by just over a year, to when he was entering high school, his grades took a steep dive and several disciplinary actions were noted on his record.  His close friends’ grades took similar, but smaller, hits at the same time.”

“You think he could have been possessed earlier.”

“I believe that something happened to him at that time.  I am unconvinced it was possession.”

Constantine shook his head.  “None of these guys are strong enough to begin with.  Maybe if they were working together…  Nah.  None of them could work together.  That’s why I picked them.”  He rubbed his eyes.  “Then again, I thought no one could get all my soul contracts, so who knows?”

“Are you sure possession is the only solution?”

“God, no.  Hell, we could be dealing with a cabal of homo magi, or someone back from the grave who seriously hates me, that’d explain the death magic on the letter, at least, or maybe there’s a god hanging around getting their kicks poking at me.  It’s just a giant blank.  I’ve never heard of this kid.  I’ve never heard of his family.  I’ve barely heard of Vlad Masters.  I’ve got nothing.”

“Hm,” said Batman.  “What are you planning to do?”

“I’m guessing ignoring it forever isn’t something you’d let me do?”

“No.”

“I guess I’m gonna have to go investigate, then.”

“In that case,” said Batman, pulling a fat folder of papers out of his cape somehow, “you will need to know more about Daniel Fenton, his associates, and Amity Park.”  He dropped the folder on the table with an audible thump.

“Great,” said Constantine.  “Just what I wanted.  Homework.”

.

Constantine and Zatanna zeta’d to the nearest tube near Amity Park.  Batman had arranged an ‘untraceable’ rental car for them, paranoid bastard.  Demons didn’t usually have the skillset required to trace license plates.  

Then again, there might be more than demons involved.  Even if necromancers generally had no skillset outside of necromancy.  

There could be shamans, though!  They were well known for their technological acumen!  

Yeah, right.  It was possible, but not bloody likely.  

“I could teleport, you know,” he told Zatanna.  “We could both teleport.”

“Into the home turf of an unknown magic user?”

Constantine rolled his eyes and knocked his head against the car window.  “I’m surprised the ol’ Bat isn’t coming with us.”

“You know he is,” said Zatanna.  “I’d give even odds that he’s already there, if I had any desire to gamble with you.”

“Hey!  I could be good for it.  I have steady work now!”

Zatanna shook her head.  Constantine huffed.  

“I’m going to take a nap.  Might be my last one, after all.”

“John,” said Zatanna, “you’re not going to die.  Don’t you think this is a little… excessive, considering all the stuff you’ve gotten out of before?”

“No one’s owned my whole soul before.  Now, I really am going to go to sleep.  Wake me up when we get there.”

.

Death.  

That’s what pulled Constantine out of his dreams and into a nightmare, and from there into wakefulness.  The feeling did not dissipate.  Instead, it grew stronger.  

He looked over at Zatanna, who was still driving.  Her knuckles were white, her shoulders stiff.  

“What the hell,” croaked Constantine.  

“It’s been building as we get closer to Amity Park,” said Zatanna.  “It doesn’t feel… actively malicious…  More like a massive haunting.  It’s been building slowly.”

Constantine swallowed and tried to rub sand out of his eyes.  “That’s– Where are we?”

“About ten minutes out of Amity Park.”

“No.  I’ve been to Amity Park.  It doesn’t feel anything like this.  It’s boring.”

“Well,” said Zatanna, strained, “something’s changed.  At least we know where the letter picked up all that death magic.”

Constantine breathed in deeply through his nose.  “Yeah, there’s enough of it here for me to feel it, God.”  It was making his skin prickle.  He shook himself all over.  “Might as well stay awake now.  Do you mind if I set my wards?”

“Knock yourself out.”

.

Constantine walked into the diner and looked around.  It was very American.  Retro.  Quiet.  Not entirely clean, but Constantine had been in way worse.  The air smelled strongly of cinnamon, coffee, and hot chocolate.  Not the kind of place he generally bartered for his soul, or away his soul, as the case might be.

An aggressive ‘No Smoking’ sign was positioned prominently next to the cheery ‘seat yourself’ sign.  Constantine scowled at it.  Sometimes it felt like there was nowhere to smoke anymore in the whole world.  

Daniel Fenton, easily recognizable from a legion of school photos and a junior astronaut camp photo ID, was sitting alone at a booth, a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream in front of him.  He swung his legs back and forth and scribbled in a notebook.  A few tables away, not nearly as sneaky as they clear-ly thought they were being, were his friends Manson and Foley.

Zatanna had entered the diner before him, of course, and Batman was most likely… somewhere.  God only knew where.  Constantine knew people who could turn invisible and shapeshift that weren’t as good at it as Batman.  

Before coming in, Constantine had finished setting his wards.  His pockets were full of all sorts of tests, charms, and apotropaics.  As he stuck his hands into them, a spray bottle fit easily into his hand.  

Walking to the table felt like walking to his execution.  He made the comparison with confidence, because he had the relevant experience.   When he stopped next to the table, Fenton looked up.  His expression was confused at first, but in less than a second he lit up, clearly delighted.  

Constantine also had relevant experience in spritzing demons with holy water.

Fenton flinched, but he didn’t start howling or melting.  More’s the pity.  

“Did you just spray me with holy water?” asked Fenton, blinking up at him with a realistic expression of befuddlement.  

“Guy’s gotta know what he’s dealing with,” said Constantine.  

“Well, I’m not a demon.”  A slight furrow worked its way between his eyes.  “Or a devil.”

“What are you, then?” asked Constantine.

Fenton shrugged.  “I don’t know.  An amateur demonologist?  I don’t have any training in this kind of stuff, which is probably why all this happened.”  He reached to the side and grabbed his hot chocolate.  “Oh.  You got my whipped cream with your water…”

“You don’t have any training?”

“Not in this,” stressed Fenton.  “I go to school and stuff.”

And astronaut camp, assuming this really was Daniel Fenton and not something possessing or impersonating him.  

“Anyway, are you going to sit down, or…?”  Fenton looked him up and down.  

Constantine scowled and slid into the booth.  Then he threw some salt (purified) at Fenton.  

“Hey,” complained Fenton, “you’re going to ruin my hot chocolate, jeez.”  He picked up the mug, pulling it towards himself.  

Constantine took the opportunity to grab his notebook off the table and flip through it.  

“Maths?” blurted Constantine.  

Fenton set the mug back on the table and leaned over to snatch the notebook back.  “Like I said, I do have school.  That’s why I can only hang out here on Saturdays.  You did miss the last few meeting times.”  He huffed.  “I know this isn’t ideal, but can we work together here?  I don’t actually want to own your soul.”

“Oh, yeah, amazing way of showing it, mate.  I know who and what I sold my soul to, and I don’t believe you bartered with them without any training.”  Or that he was human, but as long as he was invested in the facade, he probably wouldn’t eat Constantine’s face off.

“I didn’t say I didn’t have any training.  Just no training in this.  I don’t know exactly what you can do beyond make bad demon-related decisions, but you had weeks to do research.  You’ve got to know about the ghosts.”

“Might.  What about them?”

“My parents research them.  Fight them, sometimes.  It’s a whole thing.  Demons weren’t any harder to deal with.”

“I sold my soul to archdemons.”

“Yeah, they kind of sucked, to be honest.”  Fenton bit his lower lip.  “Look, I know you don’t trust me.  I wouldn’t trust me, but what I did to get your contracts wasn’t anything anyone couldn’t do.  Most of them didn’t even want them anymore.  The first batch I bought off of a random dude on Ebay.  One of them paid me to take the contract, because they hated the doll you wrote it on so much.  A lot of the others just wanted me to give you problems, which I think I’ve succeeded at, actually.”

Constantine had forgotten about the doll, actually.  “And the archdemons?  I know for a fact they’ve been looking forward to torturing me forever, so I doubt they’d just hand the contracts over in exchange for ‘giving me problems.’”

“Oh, yeah.  For those guys, I just robbed them.  There were also a few people I just beat up.”

“Demons aren’t people, they’re demons.”

“Sure they’re people.  They’re just evil people.  But they used to be angels or something, right?”

“... No,” said Constantine.  

“Okay, well.”  Fenton shrugged again.  “They still are thinking beings, right?  So, they’re people.”

Constantine honestly didn’t know where to go from that.  

"Fine," he said instead.  "You aren't going to tell me how you got the contracts or what you are.  Is it too much to hope you'll deign to tell me why you did this?"

"I'm a teenager, why do we do anything?"  Fenton sipped at his hot chocolate.  "Mostly, I thought it'd be funny."

"Excuse me?"

"I thought it would be funny.  I mean, Dad bought the first one, because he thought it'd help with his ghost research, but it didn't, so he let me have it.  I asked Johnny about it, and he told me about your contracts, so I–"

"Who's Johnny?" interrupted Constantine.  "Some demon friend of yours?"

He did have a strategy, here, sort of.  Most ultra powerful magical beings had a limit to how much annoyance or disrespect they'd tolerate, even when disguising themselves.  Constantine had a knack for finding those limits.  

Also, just possibly, the hapless teenager act was throwing him off.  It was remarkably believable.  

"No, he's dead, to begin with, not–"

"Oh, so, you took advice on dealing with demons from someone who turned up dead right after telling you about me.  That sounds brilliant." 

"He's a ghost.  He's been dead since at least the nineties, and I doubt you had anything to do with it.  Johnny died in the eighties.  I think.”

“A ghost told you about me?”

“Yeah.  I don’t know what wizards or magicians like you can do or sense, but if you looked up anything about Amity Park at all, you should have seen there are a lot of ghosts here.  It’s not just tourist trap stuff.  That’s… actually one of the other things I wanted to talk to you about, if I managed to get enough of your contracts to get you to come.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, not all ghosts are nice.  I meant it when I said your demons sucked.  That’s compared to the ghosts.  And sometimes to the people who come to hunt the ghosts.”  Fenton drummed his fingers on the table, nervous.  “It’s a toss up which group causes more damage.  The Guys in White are especially awful.  It would be nice if the Justice League took a look into them?”  His voice took on a hopeful lilt.  

“You bought my soul to tip off the League about…  Guys in White.”

“They’re with the government.  Presumably.  No one knows what they’re really called.  And they chase people around screaming about lots and lots of painful experiments.  Direct quotes.”

“You know the League has a tip line.”

“Tried it.”  Fenton took a huge gulp of hot chocolate.

“I don’t believe you,”

“If you hang out here for very long, you and your friends will be able to see the ghosts for yourself.”

Constantine could already feel the ghosts.  Or at least the pervasive, overwhelming sense of death permeating this city.  He didn’t doubt that something requiring Justice League Dark attention was going on here.  Beyond just whatever was going on with Fenton himself.  

But his attention was taken by two other points.  

One, what he didn’t believe was that Fenton did all this for only some combination of kicks and giggles and wanting Justice League attention.  Contacts with ghosts or not, burglarizing archdemons wasn’t something anyone sane blew off as nothing.

Two, Fenton had said friends.  He’d understand if he’d made Zatanna, but the plural implied that he’d spotted Batman, too.  

He didn’t let himself react.  “No one rips off archdemons to call in a tip.  Or just for fun.”

Fenton looked guilty, a blush creeping across his cheeks.  “I didn’t want to bring it up, it didn’t seem appropriate anymore.  And the other thing isn’t… relevant.”

“Why don’t you let me decide what’s relevant?” asked Constantine, despite how all his senses were screaming wrong wrong wrong at him.   “This is my soul we’re talking about, after all.”

“I know, I know,” said Fenton.  “But you didn’t exactly…”  He trailed off.  “The other thing was that some of my friends thought you need an intervention.  We also wanted to see your face when we… intervened.  Yeah, we thought it’d look kind of like that.”  Fenton pointed at him.

Constantine slapped away the hand.  He was almost convinced Fenton was… Well.  Not normal, but maybe not homicidal, or particularly interested in enslaving Constantine or torturing him for all time.  A step up from some of the other things he’d sold his soul to in the past.  Possibly.  

(The whole ‘teenager’ thing was definitely an entry in the negative column, though.  As well as the whole humiliation and mockery angle.)

“What else?” he demanded.  

Fenton’s face twisted with embarrassment and jealousy.  “You get to go up to the Watchtower, don’t you?” he asked.  “You get to go to space.”

“So?”

“So, I want to go to space.  I was, um.  I was going to… ask you to take me up there.  Just to look.”

Infiltrating the Watchtower was a much more obvious motive, but… Constantine remembered the space camp ID.  

“I mean, I’m never going to get up there with my grades.  Fighting demons for it seemed… feasible.”  He shrugged, then started to slump.  “I was going to give them back, you know.  Your contracts.  I didn’t want to keep them.  Or your soul.”  He pushed himself up.  “Anyway.  None of that matters, now.  We've got a problem to solve.”

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, as I explained in my letter, the contracts sort of… exploded."

"No, back up, what do you mean it doesn't matter?"

"Well, if this doesn't make you stop selling your soul, I don’t know what will, the Justice League knows about Amity now, I'm not going to make you take me to the Watchtower when I can't trade your soul back to you, and the funny boat sailed at about the same time my friend told me this might be permanent."

"Is this friend also dead?" drawled Constantine. 

"No, he's more in the never alive category."

Which possibly explained some of the spirit magic Zatanna detected on the letter. 

"He thinks it's because some of your contracts said after death instead of when you're dead, so, because there weren't any competing claims, they all came due at once.  Since there were so many of them…"

"Repetition makes magic stronger, yeah, yeah," said Constantine.  "I read the letter."

"I was hoping you'd have some solutions.  No offense, but I don't want to own you.  You're, like, an entire person."

Constantine wouldn't have been offended if Fenton hadn't prefixed his statement with no offense.  

“You should have thought about that before buying up my soul.”

“I was going to give it back.  No strings.”

“Except for a trip to the Watchtower.”

“If you really didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have made you,” said Fenton.  

Somehow, Constantine believed him.  Which was crazy.  He’d have to check in with Zatanna to make sure he wasn’t being enchanted somehow.  Charm person should not be a real thing magicians could do, and yet…

“Look, do you want me to swear it on the Styx or is there something else I can do to convince you I’m telling the truth?” asked Fenton.  “The ghosts seem to like the Styx, anyway.”  He sighed.  “Tell me you have something that can fix this.  I don’t know what kind of side effects there are for owning a person’s soul.  It’s not like this happens all the time.”

Hell if Constantine knew.  The only way he knew to get out of contracts like this was loopholes exploited before they were collected on.  “I’m… going to have to do some research.”

“Well,” said Fenton, “let me give you my phone number.”  He slid a piece of paper across the table.  “You can call me if you figure anything out.  In the meantime, if you’re staying in town long, you should look into the ghost thing.  Talk to my parents, even.  Maybe don’t mention all this, though.”

“Why not?”

“I love my parents, but they must have skipped out on the day they teach scientists that just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.  Anyway, I’ve got to go.”  He started to shove things into a purple backpack he’d pulled into his lap from under the table.  

“What?  Why?”  As far as Constantine was concerned, they’d only just started to scratch the surface of the problem.  

“Me and my friends have tickets to a movie.”  He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at Manson and Foley, who, apparently, were not trying to blend in or be subtle.  “You did miss the first few meeting times.”

.

“Your impression?” asked Zatanna, later, sliding into the booth after Fenton and his friends were thoroughly gone.  

“He’s… surprisingly believable.  Claims he ‘doesn’t have any training’ in magic, though, which sounds like crap, unless his parents are much more legit than what they look like on paper.”

Zatanna crossed her arms and drummed her fingers on her elbow.  “He wasn’t lying.  Not that any of my spells could detect.”

Constantine huffed.  “That doesn’t seem possible.”

“He doesn’t seem like he could take on archdemons, but with help from ghosts or spirits?  We don’t know who’s backing him.”

“God,” said Constantine, “that’s not something I was thinking of.”

“Because you were fixated on the demon theory.”

“But if he’s being backed by someone powerful, why wouldn’t they buy up my contracts themself?  That doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m not saying that his… patron, for lack of a better word, put him up to it.  Just that he might be getting extra support.”

A waitress came up to them, smiling cheerily.  “Hello, there, sorry for the delay.  Have you decided what you’re getting?”

“The hot chocolate looked good,” said Zatanna.  

“Knock yourself out,” said Constantine, standing.  “I’m going to see what Fenton’s parents are like.”

.

“John Constantine?” repeated Jack Fenton, inquisitively.  “Ha!  That’s the same name that was on that fake demon contract thing I got on Ebay!  What a wild coincidence, huh?”

.

“You could have mentioned the portal to the astral plane in your basement,” hissed Constantine into the phone.  A tiny voice in the back of his head warned him that he shouldn’t take that tone with someone who owned him, but he ignored it handily.  

“Would you have believed me if I told you?” asked Fenton, genuinely curious.  

Constantine wouldn’t have, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Also, what did you call it?  I’ve never heard anyone call it that.”

.

Batman’s deep voice rumbled through the communicator.  “What did you learn?” 

“I learned this place is a nightmare and a half.  There’s a portal to the astral plane in that kid’s basement, did you know?”

“I ran into a ghost while Constantine was talking to the Fentons,” said Zatanna, leaning sideways while keeping her eyes on the road.  “It was much more powerful than any other ghost I’ve ever seen.”

“That is not good news considering what I have learned about the so-called Guys in White.”

.

“Have you found anything?” asked Fenton.  Wherever he was, his reception was crap.  His voice crackled with enough static that he might as well be calling from the early nineteen-twenties.    

“No,” said Constantine.  It had gotten him excused from the Justice Club meetings, which meant that the failure was almost worth the headache the idea of his soul being owned by a teenager caused him.  

“I didn’t find anything either.”

“Then why did you call?”

“Uh,” said Fenton.  “I’m really grateful you guys got the GIW out of Amity, you know that, right?  And that you guys put someone on watch here for bigger threats?”

“Yeah,” said Constantine, slowly.  “Sure.”  It had been mostly Batman managing that side of things, as Constantine was banned from decisions regarding Amity Park, but if Fenton was going to give Constantine credit, who was he to deny it?

“So, um.  That was really great of you.”

Constantine was not liking where this was going.  But, apparently, this was his life, now.  Getting tips and awkwardly phrased requests from… God.  The creepy necromancer brat was sort of his warlock patron.  

… Curse his knowledge of Dungeons and Dragons.  It was definitely a detriment to his profession as a real mage, and everything he learned about it was against his will and usually the Flash’s fault.  

“What is it, Fenton?”

“Have you ever heard of the Showenhowers?” 

[portalfaecez]

[𝙼𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 _𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎_𝙳𝚊𝙼𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐_𝚂𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎_]

𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚝?

>[𝚈𝙴𝚂]

[𝙽𝙾]

[𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 _𝙰𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎_𝚂𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎_𝚁𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚘_𝚂𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚂𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚏𝚞𝚕]

Oooh- hey! I... I got something-! Hello? Can anyone hear me?

Hm, I'll take that as a no. Well, that's just sad, isn't it? Finally in range of the system and absolutely no one is here to help me. Well, actually, help is kind of a big thing to ask for, I um... Yeah no that's fine if you can't really... but uhhh, it does get awfully lonely here, in space. So, if you could maybe just stay here and talk to me for a bit? If anyone's out there...?

Who would want to talk to me anyways? After all I've done? It's alright, I get it... You- you don't have to say anything. It's not like you were much of a talker anyway, so, just keep doing what you always do. You're a great listener, by the way.

I do miss it though- Being your friend and all. You ah, get a lot of time to think up here in space... -and speaking of which, I kind of came to some sort of a realization- that you were probably the closest friend that I've ever had. Now, I know what you're thinking, "Wheatley I thought you had loads of friends!" -and you would be right! I have at least three friends, made em' all myself. But um, back to the point: you were the best of everyone, really. That's right! Waaaaay up there! The cores and the scientists... I don't know, they're all just kinda mean. Nobody has ever really treated me with so much respect besides you. Thank you. Even if I did mess everything up in the end. Hurt cores hurt other cores, that's the saying right? -Not that I'm trying to excuse anything. It's just... man.

I've thought it over about a billion times, different ways I would say and do things, things I should've said to you earlier. Hah, I really screwed it all up, haven't I? We could've just talked everything out and came to an understanding- er, well, I don't really know if you CAN talk so maybe... ASL? Could you do that? I remember a bit of it from being inside Her body- being a giant supercomputer and all-

[𝙱𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝙲𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝙻𝚘𝚠]

WH- Whoa! Um, wow, that's um... That's- that's really bad isn't it? Haven't got much time left... It seems... hah...

I know I've already apologized, but I feel like you deserve a better one. The um, the last one was kind of a stand-in for the better one I was planning to give you in person. It's um... A little funny now that I won't be able to. Now that I really think about it, I was probably never gonna get the chance to see you again regardless. But I already knew that, didn't I? I guess I just do this thing where I daydream about seeing you again so much that I convince myself it'll happen. Do you humans ever do that? Think about something so much you're positive that it's happened? It uh, might just be a side effect of space.

[3% 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐]

GHRAGH! Hold on a minute, let me get my bearings. That was... Strange. Everything's all blurry now. I can't... I can't really see anything. Um... God, how do I start this?

Chell. I'm sorry. I really, truly am sorry. I freaked out, I did! I stabbed ya' in the back, after everything you did to try to help us escape. I feel... Rotten. I do. I feel like the scum of the earth, if I'm being honest. Well, scum of space if you want to get technical with it- point is, you didn't deserve that. After all the nice things you did for me, given the fact that uh, you have arms I don't, I really should have been more grateful. If there was anything that I could say or do to make it right, I would in an instant. That's a promise. You deserved a better friend, and I'm sorry I couldn't do that for you.

[1% 𝚁𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐]

Haha... I can feel myself sort of fading away now. It's um, kind of hard to keep my eye open... There we go. Feels easier to just let it close, not like I'm missing much anyways.

...

I'm scared.

...

When my body comes falling to earth, you'll catch me this time, will you?

[lover-of-mine]

I had a theory I wanted to share but bear with me while I get to it.

Thinking about how now we know for sure Eddie & Marisol are actually having sex regularly got me thinking about how Eddie & Shannon's problem was never their sex life and wondering how/if that plays into Eddie being with Marisol? Because we know things never seemed to click with Ana both emotionally and physically but they are clicking physically with Marisol up until the whole nun thing after which Eddie seemed to be like "well I guess we'll break up now" but didn't seem too devastated by it? If anything he felt more like someone in the beginning of relationship not someone after months of dating & then moving in together. Which of course they decided to slow that because he realized they were going too fast but he said he really wants this time to work out but I'm not seeing a convincing reason why? They're friendly sure & having good sex I guess but what's their emotional connection? How close actually are they? I'm having a hard time understanding it. But this is only his like 3rd ever relationship right? He doesn't have a lot to compare it to & so maybe because he clicked in a way he didn't with Ana that maybe reminds him of what he had with Shannon? Except he & Shannon were best friends, they had a deep emotional connection in addition to a pretty good sex life. So I don't know but maybe Eddie is thinking they needed to move in because it would help them get closer and now maybe they need more time or something? We know he hates dating and feeling like he needs to perform so maybe it's like this is the first woman since Shannon he's able to/enjoys sleeping with so he figures that must mean something more? And I love the idea of he's never considered men being an option before and him now starting on that journey or realizing he did like men or at least Buck and he's now realizing Buck could be an option, like any of those theories and then realizing maybe what he's actually missing in his relationship with Marisol he already has with Buck and realizing he can also have that good sexual part of it (not that he has to but it does seem important to him) too. Because for all of the problems that he & Shannon had they did love and care about each other. I like to think if she'd lived they would have still gotten divorced & actually settled into a solid friendship with each other. But that's neither here nor there.

Is this a crazy stretch? Maybe. I'm just trying to make sense of it all. And I'm a Buddie girlie at heart always so it makes me feel more hopeful.

No, I'm actually with you here. I think Ana was just the first person he thought he could latch onto back then, and she was pretty and nice and Chris liked her, so he thought he could learn to love her eventually. I mean the show does imply that eddieana had sex. I know we like to joke they didn't, but the show very much does imply that with the "you really like to dress me up" "and the other thing" comment at the store before the first panic attack. But they weren't clicking emotionally and we didn't see them connect physically, so Eddie was just "sticking it out". Shannon, the sex worked and I did know how to talk, I don't think you can fight the way they did if you don't know each other. Shannon knew exactly how to disarm Eddie. How to say the thing that would get him questioning his actions. So even if we didn't get to see a lot of moments in their marriage where they were just happy, we know they had good sex and we know they knew how to talk. With Marisol he seems to be connecting with her physically, but he can't seem to connect with her emotionally, because we don't know anything about Marisol because the impression they are giving is that Eddie doesn't know a lot about her. He could have thought that the shock of moving in would bring them closer and then make the relationship better, there is an argument to be made there. And like, he says he really likes her but his brain went to the break up route and he didn't seem that devastated about it. It is canon information that this is Eddie's 3rd relationship, assumed 3rd person he slept with. So he doesn't have a lot of reference points. Which is why he keeps chasing Shannon. But I also think that enough pent up sexual energy can make people see more in a relationship than there actually is, good sex doesn't equal a good relationship (just look at Buck and Taylor and the way they had the chemistry but lacked everything else). But Shannon worked because they had both the friendship and the chemistry. If Shannon was still alive I think they would very much learn to be friends for Chris' sake and eventually settle back into the friendship and figure out who they are together while better equipped to handle what's being thrown at them. But he's lacking the communication aspect of a good relationship with Marisol. He doesn't have the friendship. He does have the friendship with Buck though. And I guess having sex with men in general never occurred to him (but as a demisexual Eddie believer I think sex is not something he worries about a lot unless it's actively creating problems in his life like in merry exmas and you don't know me, both episodes who contain the two sex scenes that lead to problems in the relationship, and it is an interesting way to create problems on Eddie's relationship by calling back to that conflict with Shannon that eventually led Eddie to let Shannon back in but literally led to him kicking Marisol out, also interesting that he sneaks Shannon out of the house and leaves Marisol alone in it) so he never thought about having sex with Buck specifically, but I don't see how Eddie could go "oh maybe I want to have sex with men?" and not instantly attach that to Buck too, because he's Buck. Considering the way I don't think Eddie knows how to qualify who Buck is to him, but does have Buck stored away as the person he trusts the most, I think that attraction to men would instantly attach to the safest person, and that's Buck.

But the question is how they are gonna handle his sexuality. I don't know if they are ever gonna explicitly label him, or Buck for they matter, on the show, but on a meta level Buck is being thought of as bisexual and they are adding to the pieces that are already there to make Buck a bisexual man. I have no idea where Eddie's sexuality is going. I can give you an argument for that man to be demisexual and/or demiromantic with the last episode. The fact that he didn't know that aspect of her killed his boner and his excitement with the relationship. So much so he had to go back to the getting to know her step. But is the show ballsy enough to have a character like Eddie be demisexual? Are they ballzy enough to make the womanizer bi and the single father ace? I don't know. Probably not. I think Eddie has a complicated relationship with sex. Is it the religious trauma? Is the demisexuality? Is it both? ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ I also think that that complicated relationship with sex makes it harder for him to want to date, because dating comes with expectations. He's clearly not romance or sex repulsed, but he does have trouble connecting on a deeper level with these women. He doesn't have trouble connecting with Buck. I think if you plant the attraction to men seed with him, his brain would fill the empty space with Buck. Kinda in the same way he keeps trying to match these women to Shannon. So he could get there. He can absolutely get there. I see this being a route to be taken. I don't know if the show is brave enough to do it though.

[mikuni14]

After rewatching episode 8 with cool mind and without the emotions that accompanied me the first time, I already know what triggered me so much that I have such a problem accepting the fact that they lied to the police:

it's actually not even about the fact that they lied to the police that Non didn't go with them

it's about how actively they worked to mislead the police, and therefore Non's parents, into Non's elopement with Keng, which btw, only Tee AND JIN did

and although this is understandable when it comes to Tee, who is now, without realizing it, a member of the mafia literally covering up their crimes...

...Jin didn't have to do it. When the cop says that Jin is said to be the closest to Non, Jin could have said "um, not really". And what he ABSOLUTELY DID NOT HAVE TO DO was answer the next question: "what is the possibility that Non ran away with Mr. Keng?" Jin might have said "I don't know, I didn't know him that well, I didn't know they were close until this video came out". What does Jin do? He not only lies, he creates an additional alternative reality, something that has no use for HIM, so he absolutely, absolutely NEVER had to do it

even taking into account the fear of corrupt police, which I doubt (I'll get back to it later), THERE IS STILL NON'S FAMILY, left without Non and without answers as to where he is

What triggers me so much is not that they lied to the police, but HOW they lied, especially Tee and Jin. The potential fear of the police (and the real fear of the consequences) could only be limited to "he wasn't with us, we don't know where he is." But Tee AND JIN did something extra, something specifically misleading and ruining Non's reputation, his life and his future, especially if they live in the illusion that nothing bad happened and Non is alive.

THAT'S WHY I'M WAITING FOR THE SCENE WHEN THEY AGREE HOW TO TESTIFY TOGETHER. Why? Because I'm pretty sure that Tee made them all believe that Non was taken by Keng and they ran away together and it will look bad FOR THEM that Non was with them at that time and used them as a cover for his parents (we can only guess how Por and Fluke will be the first to jump in and lie so as not to ruin their already damaged reputation with another scandal and new problems with their parents and a precious future in medicine). This would also explain Jin's behaviour, who has a very romantic view of love and who first recorded Non "as a punishment because he cheated on his boyfriend", and now thinks that maybe, since Non actually ran away with Keng, maybe THIS was a real love. And what he says may even be an attempt to excuse Non that he is not a bad boy, but that he ran away with his beloved. Tee telling them this would also explain the boys' behavior at the beginning of the series, why Por, Fluke and especially Jin think that Non is alive but doesn't want anything to do with them and why Tee and Top were the first ones to think that Non was dead and is the ghost because they were the last who saw Non and know perfectly well, that he wasn't taken by Keng at all.

But at this point, knowing what we know, Tee and Jin's behavior is indefensible, and while yes, ACAB, let's not forget about Non's family. That's why I have such a big problem with it. Because their testimony wasn't "I don't know, I don't remember, he wasn't with us, thank you, goodbye", but to turn Non into a whore running away with his teacher in a nationwide sex scandal. And then jointly parasitizing his work. That's why I'm counting on more information about it, why they did it 🙂

And I am 99.99% convinced that they did not lie to the police because they are afraid of them, I don't believe that a bunch of 17-year-old more or less morons and bullies are cynical, jaded citizens fully aware of the socio-economic status and sociological nuances of living in a society. After all, even Phee, who is a son of a cop, is actually surprised that his father can't do anything for Non. No, I'm convinced they lied to the police to protect their own asses. There is no fear of corrupt police here, there is fear of CONSEQUENCES and a desperate attempt to move away from the "Non problem".

Of course, I could be completely wrong 🤭😄

[seiberries]

hihi! I have an idea!! karaoke date with reo?

hehehe get the title? i hope this is satisfactory!!

ka(reo)ke : mikage reo short fic

mikage reo x gn!reader / listen to: kirari - fujii kaze

warnings: none! except maybe reo’s spending habits!

it was his idea, surprisingly. though mikage reo could probably rent out a whole clubhouse for you two to sing in, he wanted to experience the little moments in life with you. the idea of a room with colorful lights and a TV set came into mind.

a minute or so ago, reo took your hand to drag you towards your date spot. he had been looking forward to it all day, a bright smile appearing on his face as he walked. it was a surprise too, so you let yourself get carried away by his excitement.

you knew you’d enjoy it no matter what, anyway- it was reo, after all. he has yet to disappoint with any of his date ideas.

he halted after a few more steps of walking, going behind you to cover your eyes. surrounded by darkness, or more-so his hands, he guided you forward. you giggled at his antics, he did this every time. it was pretty cute of him. the boy resembled a puppy, always anticipating your reactions; you can imagine his purple tail wagging.

“ta-da! here we are.” he lifted his hands, revealing a small black building with a large glass door, posters littered along the outer walls. you realized where you were after a sign caught your attention.

“karaoke house.” you read, before rushing to hug who had brought you here in the first place. so he remembered? see, a week ago, you had mentioned wanting to try this activity out after seeing it featured in a drama you enjoyed. you were talking to yourself then, so you never would’ve guessed that he had taken note of it. always paying attention to you, it was one of the many things you loved about him.

you expressed your thanks, taking his hand this time, and walking into the place. as soon as you entered, the lady at the front desk was already personally bringing you to your assigned room, no words were exchanged except for her overenthusiastic greeting. your boyfriend’s influence knew no bounds, he must’ve reserved a spot previously to make sure everything went right.

you take a brisk trip using an elevator to the third floor, the hostess leading you to a red door labeled “VIP”. she bows her head and leaves, thanking you both for choosing their branch in a polite tone.

reo opens the door for you, a gentleman as always. he lets you go into the room first, closing the door himself afterwards. 

he really prepared for this.

the tv was already turned on, your favorite snacks neatly placed on the glass table in front of it. the disco ball hanging from the ceiling spun with different colors, all reflecting onto the room.

your jaw was gonna hurt soon from how widely you were smiling. reo saw your expression, and swore to himself that he’d do all he could to make sure you’d smile like that everyday that you’re with him, which hopefully meant forever. he’d take you here anytime you wanted-  he’d take you anywhere, anytime, if it meant forever.

you two sit down, picking up the song book positioned beside the food. you quickly notice how all of the songs on your favorite playlist are conveniently located on the first page, looking at your partner knowingly as he scratches the back of his neck.

“ah... you caught me. yes, i had to spend extra. but, it wasn’t much at all! just enjoy, okay?” he explains, leaning in to lay a peck on your forehead. you never need him to spend on you but, he does regardless. it was a mikage love language. it makes you roll your eyes, albeit jokingly, your smile still accompanying the action. 

“let’s sing, shall we~?” he stands up to take the two microphones near the television screen, handing one to you. you then choose a song, reading the corresponding numbers, as the boy presses on them using the keypad provided.

you started the late afternoon with taylor swift, love story, a song you both knew by heart. it was an extremely familiar tune- to you, since it was your favorite, and to reo, precisely because it was your favorite. well, he does likes her music too, but that’s besides the point.

you were jumping around already, just stopping to take a bite of the snacks that were prepared by the facility. singing loudly, your boyfriend gladly providing you with back-up vocals. the sound of clapping is heard after you finish your “performance”.

the following song was his favorite, kirari by fujii kaze, you knew it by word too. you cheer him on as he sings almost passionately, recording a short video of it on your phone. god, your boyfriend really is good at everything; he even sings well. perhaps he was an idol in his past life? the song suits him. 

he points at you as he sings the following lyrics.

“where have you been, i’ve been looking for you take me there, take me there. giving up everything, and going with you to anywhere, to everywhere”

oh, he’s dedicating this to you. 

your face feels hot, hands moving to cover your cheeks. the grin you sported was too big to hide though, reaching ear to ear. the song finishes, and reo approaches you.

“it looks like you enjoyed, hm?” he teases.

“be quiet.” you pout, turning away. 

the afternoon passes as song after song plays- some from your playlists, some from his, some classics, and some popular and new.

both of your voices were slightly hoarse by the time you’d finished, the fun you had being more than enough to compensate. voices and food gone, you just cuddled close to reo, a sweet silence filling the once noisy room. you pair were somewhat worn out, so you needed this before departing the building for the day.

“thanks, love.” you voiced out, scattering kisses on the violet-head’s face. he was more than happy to receive them, giving you a love-struck gaze as he watched you start to slip into sleep. you had all the time in the world, the person he spoke with on the phone gave him the whole day to use their services. he’d wake you up later.

mikage reo would devote his life to making you smile. you’d never know how much, but spending more money than he needed to for this date was very necessary!

little moments with you were priceless, so of course he’d give everything for them.

[itspdameronthings]

in Loving memory

Summary: here is my entry to@triplefrontier-anniversary celebration. This is a really sad one. sorry about that. this is a tribute for one of our own ,@aellynera who is now with the angels. She was one of a kind . Hope she loves this. she loved Oscar. Most of us knew she loved Triple frontier ,and anything with oscar. ha ha!

the fic deals with him mourning his love.

Wish people would stop asking how I am doing. Want to be alone! Let me fucking be! Let me grieve in my own way! Others never lose the love of their life like me. My Alleycat. One of a kind. Talented writer . Yeah. She loved to write short stories. Did that to take her mind off her illness. I found out about it four years ago when she would get sick a lot. Doctors ran test after test. Until … she was in a coma! Scared me half to death. Prayed for more time with her. Wishing Columbia never happened. Took me away from her! God! Why ! Why you called her home so fucking soon! Took my dad ( Which I didn't have to say goodbye to!) Took me years to get past the hurt. Feel so alone! What now!? 

Haven't left our room since the funeral. That was the hardest thing to do. Say bye to my heart. Others are part of me. My Ying to my Yang. Treasure the moments we shared last year from going to a Broadway show in New York that stars her favorite actor. Okay, I saw why she likes him. Told me he looks like me. Smile at the memory. Oh Ally girl, wished we had more time together. Make even more memories. I’ll treasure them always. No matter what. I'll never find anyone like you darling. Promise you that. 

I'm watching Revenge of Jolly right now. Try to laugh. Haven't been able to do that. I remember coming home from a horrible day. She  was watching it. Okay.. kind of corny. 

I watched it,and oh shit! Was so corny.

After the movie.  I play some of her music. Oh how she loved the 70’s and 80’s. Her taste was all over the place! Like Dan Reed network. Played it a lot. Some country. Oh how she loved when I sing. Even with Benny. Speaking of him. Oh how he misses her. Like his big sister. Always teaming up to tease the shit out of me. Will and Frankie too loved her as well. 

Her family gave me space that I needed. Mention if I need anything to let them know. That's sweet. Even Benny's girl, Paige comes by with food ,and tries to clean the house. Which looks like inside my head. She is grieving like me. Both of them were close. Like the same things. Same kind of sass. Which is comforting. On this day Paige brought me a note Ally wrote before she passed. Said for me to read it. Cant! Cant fucking do it! What can she possibly tell me that I already know! Paige told me it would help the healing process. Putting it on my nightstand for the time being.

Few days later Will texted me to come over for a surprise get together at his place. Others will be there. Too soon! Not ready to go out! Oh got a text from Paige: 

Paige: Look, I know what you are going through. Been in your position when my dad passed away. Couldn't function. Took me awhile to realize that my dad didn't want me to wallow.

Santi: wallow? Think I'm wallowing? 

Paige: a little. Have to get out at some point okay? Ally wouldn't want you to be sad forever. Have a lot of people in your corner. Besides, I need you at the gathering. So does Benny. 

Santi: Oh.. the gathering has to do wop,ith you two?

Paige : maybe. 

Maybe she said. Just like Ally . So secretive. Guess I have to bite the bullet,and read the letter. Sitting in my worn out, black leather chair. Starting to read: 

My Santi baby( hot sauce) ,

Wrote this before my condition got so bad that I couldn't communicate anymore. Wanna tell you I love you soo much. Have been the love of my life for a long time, baby. Sorry for worrying you so much about my illness. Always there when I told you about it. So grateful for that. 

Have a request for you. Live life to the fullest,but first thing first. 

Get your knees checked out! Don't let it go too long! Hate to see you in pain. Do it for me. Secondly, it's okay to love someone new. Want you to be happy. It's okay to love someone else. Thirdly, let the others take care of you. I mean it! Have been a leader far too long. Let them take some of the slack okay? 

Last thing my love I treasure all of the time we shared in our short time together. Never in my wildest dreams we found each other. Be strong . 

Hold the note close to my heart. Tears fell again. Thinking about what I have to do. First thing. Time to get cleaned up. Meaning shaving my scruffy face. 

Took a breath as I knocked on ironhead’s door. Benny opened the door. Hugging me so tight I couldn't breath. Others hugged me. Even Paige. Asked me if I was okay. Squeezed her tiny hands and told her I read the letter .  Told her I'll do what she says. 

Benny made his special announcement. Him and Paige are getting married. So happy for them . Hope both of them have a wonderful life together. Looking up at the evening sky knowing she is in heaven watching. Guiding not just me,but all of the people she cares about.