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sundrop-writes · 9 months

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The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary:

While undercover inside the Separatarian Sect, you and Spencer realize something important: you can’t live without each other.

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader. Co-Workers to Lovers. Fake Dating. Hurt and Comfort. Set during Season 4, Episode 3.

Word Count: 8,200

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: Lots of spoilers for the canon episode - so if you haven’t watched Season 4 of Criminal Minds yet, steer clear of this fic for now (especially because watching the episode provides some context for this fic/makes things make more sense); the reader uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is not pregnant during the fic and there’s no smut, but due to discussions in the fic, it’s not unreasonable that she could get pregnant); fake dating in the form of a fake marriage - the reader and Spencer pretend to be married under the Christian religion to ‘appeal’ to Cyrus; because of the fake marriage, Spencer uses the term 'my wife’ to refer to the reader; lots of mentions of religion (Christianity), religious extremism, mentions of pedophilia/child brides (in line with the canon episode); mentions of systemic sexism and gender roles enforced by cultures of organised religion and religious extremism; use of y/n and l/n (in this case meaning 'your last name’); the reader pretends to follow the Christian religion while undercover but I never stated if she believes in a less extreme version of these things or not (the reader’s true religious beliefs are never stated); protective!Spencer, possessive!Spencer; mentions of Spencer being taller than the reader (which, again, I think he would be taller than most people) - the reader’s body/body type is not described in any other way; mentions of guns and gun violence (not described in deep detail) - in line with the canon episode; the reader and Spencer fear for their lives; dangerous/live-threatening situations; the reader and Spencer are threatened with a gun; Cyrus is just generally creepy and sexist toward the reader; Spencer is pistol-whipped and the reader is threatened with sexual assault (it does not happen, Spencer protects her); mentions of pregnancy/the reader being pregnant (she is not pregnant during the course of the fic); mentions of the reader being a mother/having kids (Spencer makes up fake kids to sell their fake marriage story); the reader realizes she might actually want to be a mother because of Spencer’s fake kids story; mentions of an explosion (as in the canon); love confessions; angst with a happy ending. Hopefully that is everything.

A/N: The title for this fic comes from a Fall Out Boy song of the same name. The theme/lyrics of the song don’t really fit the fic, but I love the way that this title fits - how everyone in this fic is lying in some way but Spencer is someone with good intentions while lying. Making him the Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes. I love how it fits. I wrote this while suffering with heat exhaustion so idk if it’s good or even makes sense. I rewatched the canon episode and it doesn’t 100% align with what happened in the episode in terms of the timeline and stuff, and I am too tired to rewrite the whole fic to make it align with the episode. So uh - alternative canon? But I really love the basic concepts and I do really love how it turned out. I hope you guys like it too!

...

You thought it would be an easy day.

Maybe that was foolish on your part. So far, you hadn’t seen a single ‘easy’ day while working with the BAU. Between chasing down scumbags and then reliving every single gory detail while doing the paperwork - none of it was ‘easy’. It was worthy, accomplished work - making the world a safer place to live in. (At least that’s what you told yourself.) But it was never easy.

There was always someone who made the job easier. Someone who made you smile every single day - especially on days when you didn’t think you were even capable of feeling a tiny shred of joy. Someone who made you feel safe, who you always felt had your back no matter what. So you were glad that he was by your side today, along for the ride.

“Tell us about Cyrus.” Reid prompted.

He looked to the woman driving, your new companion for the day - Nancy Lunde, someone who worked with the state department and had set up the interviews with the children at the Separatarian Sect.

“Benjamin Cyrus. No criminal record. In fact, there’s no record of the guy at all.” Nancy explained.

“That’s odd.” You commented. “Usually someone being accused of something like this would have some past offenses. Especially because it would give him a reason to move into isolation to continue the criminal pattern of behavior.”

“Well, I couldn’t find anything on him.” Nancy shrugged.

“What about the 9-1-1 call?” You asked.

“A fifteen year old girl called in saying that a man was ‘laying with her’ and claimed it as ‘God’s will’. I believe the ‘he’ referred to is Cyrus.” Nancy explained. “The age fits with Jessica Evanson, but I’ve managed to negotiate interviews with all the children, just to be sure. It wasn’t easy.”

“They’re incredibly weary of outsiders.” You commented. “Our boss warned you not to identify us as FBI, right?”

Nancy nodded. “I got you some spare credentials, just in case.”

She took one of her hands off the wheel and reached into her pocket.

“You’re going to be using your real names. You’re going in as Child Victim Interview Experts working with Child Protective Services. No association with the FBI.” Nancy explained, handing Reid your fake credentials.

He nodded, inspecting the IDs before handing you yours where you were sitting in the backseat.

“Oh, before I forget.” You noted, reaching into the pocket of your cardigan. “The rings.”

You pulled out a small plastic bag that Hotch had given to you before you left. It was a bag containing a fake diamond ring in your size and a fake golden ‘wedding’ band for Spencer.

Reid reached over the seat to grab his ring from you, and Nancy gave the two of you an odd look.

“Rings?” She questioned.

“Fake wedding bands.” You explained.

“It was our Unit Chief’s idea.” Reid added on. “He believes that presenting us as a ‘godly’ married couple to Cyrus will make him more likely to open up to us. He’s less likely to see us as hostile outsiders if he believes that we share a similar system of beliefs.”

“It could also have a calming effect on the teenagers we have to interview or the kids there who have had more time to go through indoctrination at the Sect.” You continued to explain. “Even if their parents are hesitant to let the kids speak with us, they may be more willing to have their child speak with us or even leave them alone with us if they believe that we’re fellow Christians, rather than hostile atheists there to poison their children’s minds.”

Reid nodded at you through the rearview mirror.

“Make sure you put on the left hand.” He told you. “That’s the position for marriage.”

You nodded at this.

You placed the ring in the appropriate position, and you couldn’t help but to take a moment and stare at it. It was jarring to have a wedding ring on - especially with the thought that it represented you being married to Spencer. But you supposed, of all the people to call your husband, he would be one of the best. He was honest, intelligent, kind, and… if you were pressed, you would definitely say he was handsome.

But you couldn’t get too caught up thinking about all of that. Because it wasn’t real. It was a false projection you were wearing for the benefit of a self inflated sociopath.

Spencer liked the feeling of the ring. He didn’t take too long to stare at it after he had put it on, because he knew his mind would wander if he did. When Hotch had first proposed the idea of the two of you pretending to be married, Spencer had almost tripped over himself to oppose it - mostly because he didn’t think that he would be able to handle simply pretending to be your husband for the day. It was just too cruel.

Having something he wanted so badly dangled right in front of him and knowing that it was all just a farce - it bothered him, but he delighted in the play nonetheless.

When he caught the fake gold glinting in the light, Spencer had to remind himself that it was fake - that you would just be playing his wife for the day. He had to push back any internal glee that he felt at the idea that he got to be ‘taken’ by you while wearing that ring. It wasn’t real. It was just for the day.

“Isn’t that deceptive?” Nancy asked. “Won’t Cyrus be even more angry if he finds out that it’s not true?”

“He won’t find out.” You replied confidently. “And besides, we use deception in interrogations all the time. It’s a very basic tactic: align yourself with the suspect. Make them think you share the same beliefs, that you’re on their side.”

Reid grinned at this. He always loved it when you spoke so confidently.

…

“We’re looking for Mr. Benjamin Cyrus.” Nancy announced as the three of you got out of the car.

“Then you’ve found him.” Cyrus announced confidently.

He was pretty much what you had expected him to be - dressed informally, slouched over, faking meekness, holding a bible near his chest as though it were a shield. He had planted himself there purposefully, wanting to be the first person to interact with the outsiders as three of you came into the Ranch.

You hovered back near Spencer, letting Nancy make the first introduction.

“I’m Nancy Lunde.” She said, giving a small nod toward the man. “We spoke on the phone regarding the allegation.”

“‘Savages they call us, because our manners differ from theirs.’” Cyrus rhymed off a quote, obviously positioning himself and his group as martyrs being attacked for having ‘different ways’ that the world simply didn’t understand.

“We didn’t come here to hear you cite scripture, Mr. Cyrus.” Nancy reminded him, hoping to keep the religious zealot on track.

“Actually, it’s Benjamin Franklin.” Reid corrected her, talking about the quote.

That did surprise you, but you didn’t find it surprising that Reid knew this fact right off the top of his head. It was just one of the many amazing things about him - his perfect memory and his ability to use it.

Of course, him saying this immediately drew Cyrus’ attention toward the two of you. So Spencer stepped up to introduce you.

“Hello, I’m Spencer Reid, and this is my wife, Y/N L/N.” He said motioning toward himself and then to you as he introduced the two of you. Hearing him refer to you as his wife - you hated to say it, but it caused a jolt through your system. Almost as if you had been waiting forever to hear him say those words and hadn’t even known it yourself. “We’re Child Victim Interview Experts, here on behalf of Child Protective Services.”

Of course, you couldn’t get too caught up in deciphering how those words made you feel, because you had to focus on the task at hand. The job that you were here to do.

“How far from God’s word must we have strayed for there to be a need to invent a job called ‘Child Victim Interview Expert’.” Cyrus said, his tone even, quiet.

You knew that covertly, it was his way of saying that the two of you didn’t belong there, because he ran the Ranch with God’s word, so nobody had actually been harmed (in his opinion). He believed that he had done nothing wrong. Obviously, he thought your time and resources were better spent with ‘actual’ victims who didn’t have his power wielded over their lives.

“I can assure you, Mr. Cyrus, we try to bring God into our work.” You told him, trying to appeal to him. “The children we visit usually need prayer and God’s light the most.”

Spencer gave you a sideways glance, clearly holding back a grin at how thick you were pouring it on - how much intense, feigned passion you said these words with.

“Well, I can assure you that a lack of prayer and God’s light is certainly not an issue for the children here.” Cyrus said, giving you a clever little grin. He thought that you would simply interview the children, praise him for what a good job he had done, and then leave. “You can go and see the children whenever you like. They are up at the school, as I indicated in our phone call.”

Nancy walked toward the school, and you paused before you followed.

Before you walked off, you looked to Spencer. In a completely silent conversation that only worked so well because the two of you had been in so many tense situations before, thinking around UnSubs and planning miles around them before they could even know it, he gave you a small nod and you instantly knew what it meant. He had established a small bit of trust with Cyrus, so he would stick back and see what else he could get out of the man.

You nodded back, and then - completely surprising yourself, you leaned in and kissed Spencer on the cheek. You were just playing the part, you told yourself. It’s not that it felt entirely instinctive to say goodbye to him with some kind of affection, like the many hugs you had given him before. It’s not that you felt so entirely scrutinized with Cryus’ piercing eyes on you, and you needed the anchor of Spencer’s touch.

You were just playing the part.

Spencer tried not to get caught on being kissed on the cheek like he was some blushing virgin, and instead, focused his attention back on Cyrus instead of watching you walk away. (Even though every single one of his instincts told him that he needed to keep a more careful eye on you because you both had to leave your guns in the car.)

He took a step closer to where Cyrus was leaning on the concrete, and easily picked a topic of conversation.

“Solar panels.” Reid said, motioning to the large devices sitting behind Cyrus on the grass.

“Yes.” Cyrus nodded. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. Food, electricity, water. Benjamin Franklin said ‘God helps those who help themselves’.” He explained. “You look surprised.”

“No, uh, impressed, actually.” Reid easily lied, trying to appeal to his ego.

“Thank you.” Cyrus said. “Most men wouldn’t admit that.”

“Well, I suppose that I’m not like most men.” Reid shrugged in return.

“How long have you been married?” Cyrus asked, motioning toward Reid’s ‘wedding ring’.

Reid panicked slightly, knowing that the two of you likely should have coordinated this story during the plane ride to Colorado so that your answers to these simple questions wouldn’t be different. But he just made up an answer and hoped that nobody else would ask you the same question and find out the deception.

“Three years.” He said. “I’ve been very blessed.”

He used the language purposefully, knowing that the simple phrase could get him on Cyrus’ good side. That, and he hoped it would draw the attention away from any possible signs of his blatant lie.

“Your wife is very beautiful.” Cyrus commented.

He gave a wicked smirk as he said this. It was a simple, fairly ‘innocent’ comment, but it was immediately off-putting to Spencer. It took everything in his body not to glare daggers at Cyrus or throw out some protective comment in return. He could only imagine what was going through Cyrus’ mind as he thought about you, and he hated even imagining it.

Reid knew that it was a basic logical good, the instinct to protect you because you were his partner on this case and he was supposed to have your back. But it was also something more. Something in every fiber of his being that screamed you were his and no man should ever be thinking of you that way except for him.

“Has it been a godly union?”

He was lucky when Cyrus spoke again and distracted him from his mounting rage.

“We try to be as godly as we can be.” Spencer took the simple, diplomatic answer.

“Your wife didn’t take your last name.” Cyrus pointed out.

Nancy had used your name on your false credentials because Hotch had only come up with the fake marriage idea the day before. There hadn’t been time to inform her about it and have ‘Reid’ put on your ID as your ‘married’ name. So he had introduced you by your name to keep everything consistent with the reuse.

It did make Spencer wonder if you would keep your last name if the two of you ever did get married. It made him almost dizzy, thinking about you as ‘Mrs Reid’. Thinking about your kids having his name. Or your name, if that’s what you wanted.

But naturally, he pushed past all those thoughts and formed an excuse.

“Typically, married women aren’t very well perceived in our line of work.” He quickly excused. “She doesn’t even get to wear her ring that often. She couldn’t change her name on paperwork at our office because a working married woman… it’s heavily frowned upon.”

“Well, I’d have to agree.” Cyrus grunted. “A woman shouldn’t be out working. A woman should be at home raising a family.”

“I - I suppose you’re right.” Reid agreed through gritted teeth.

He walked away toward the school before he got too angry again.

…

A few hours later, everything had gone to hell.

Some authority - the police, the military, you didn’t even know - had charged into the Ranch shooting. In response, Cyrus and his followers had come into the school toting large semi-automatics asking you and Spencer if you knew about a raid.

You didn’t. You wish you had known about a raid. You would have warned Hotch and gotten them to call it off. You certainly would not have been there while it was happening.

When they had pointed those guns in your face and forced you into the tunnels - it wasn’t very difficult to pretend to be Spencer’s wife then. Cowering in the bunker, confused and scared, you flung your arms around his waist almost instinctively, and he buried his nose in the top of your hair as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders like a shield, promising you that everything was going to be okay.

Whispered to you like that, coming from him - it was almost easier to believe. Even with the chaos going on around you and the fear pumping through you in response.

Nancy had run off trying to get them to surrender and did not come back. You had a feeling that you knew what that meant.

And now, with the kids from the school ‘evacuated’ into the church, you were being held in the cellar at gunpoint. They had forcefully separated you and Spencer, making you sit in chairs at opposite sides of the room.

Spencer was fidgeting. His eyes kept flickering from the door, to you, to the man standing beside you holding the very large gun.

You knew that you had ugly tear tracks down your face, and oddly enough - you wanted nothing more than to be back in his arms. As you were forced to sit there, just a few feet across the room away from him - you ached for it.

There was a very large possibility that you were going to die today. And you selfishly needed the comfort of being in the arms of someone familiar - someone safe. Someone you knew would never hurt you. Someone who had made you laugh with dumb science jokes and puns for the last five years that you had worked together with him.

When Cyrus charged back into the room with two men flanking his sides, you and Spencer stiffened up once again.

“God will forgive me for what I’m about to do.” Cyrus announced to the room, presenting a handgun from his belt.

Your insides quaked, and Spencer’s eyes grew wide.

You couldn’t contain the fearful whimper that erupted from the back of your throat when he raised that gun and placed it near the middle of Spencer’s forehead. You clasped a hand tightly over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in protest, knowing that would only make things worse.

“Which one of you is the FBI Agent?” Cyrus asked firmly.

Which ‘one’?

So he knew that you were undercover, that you had lied about your job titles - but he thought that only one of you had done so. Where the hell was he getting his information?

“I - I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Spencer told him quietly, looking him in the eye the entire time.

You hoped that his stutter could be passed off as nervousness from the gun being pointed in his face, and wouldn’t be pointed to as deception.

“Which one of you is it?” Cyrus pressed.

“We are not FBI Agents.” Spencer said, more confidently this time. “We are Child Victim Interview Experts. We were only sent here to ensure the wellbeing of the children. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Well, that last part wasn’t a lie.

“You’re lying.” Cyrus told him, entirely confident in this. “God expells those who lie, devils in sheep’s clothing.”

There was a tense moment, and then Cyrus cocked the gun.

Spencer didn’t flinch. You resisted the urge to scream.

“Proverbs 12:22 says: ‘The Lord detests lying lips, but he delights in those who tell the truth.’” Cyrus said, actually citing scripture this time.

He was giving Spencer one last chance to tell the truth. As if using the bible verse to say that his punishment would be lesser if he simply told the truth now.

Spencer didn’t take the bait.

“I’m not lying.” Spencer said firmly. “What? You think I wouldn’t know if - if my wife was an FBI Agent? This is the woman I wake up next to every single morning, the woman I go to sleep next to every single night, we work together every single day, we-”

Cyrus interrupted Spencer’s ranting with a sharp hit to the face, pistol whipping him across the cheek.

This caused Spencer to go flying off the chair, and you couldn’t help when you let out a wounded cry. It took everything in you not to jump out of your own chair and rush to Spencer where he had collapsed onto the ground, clutching his cheek.

“Someone is going to tell me the truth.” Cyrus said gruffly.

“It must have been Nancy!” You said, the idea finally popping into your head.

You seemed to be more clever with the pressure of Spencer’s life being threatened. Cyrus stared you down, turning his attention fully toward you now. You caught Spencer’s eye for a moment and he gave you a small nod - as if to say ‘yes, keep going with that’.

“The woman we came in with! Nancy!” You reasoned, continuing to point the finger at the woman you had to assume was dead. “We - we just met her today. Our boss introduced us to her, but we had never met before that. If she was FBI, we had no clue. We swear.”

Cyrus turned to you then, and tightly pressed the barrel of his gun into your forehead. You could feel the imprint of it so tight in your skin that it hurt, and you could only lean away so far before threatening to knock the chair backwards.

“It’s very convenient to pin this crime on someone who isn’t here.” He grunted at you.

“It’s the truth.” You sniffled out quietly.

“Hmm.” Cyrus hummed thoughtfully, and then, much to your surprise, he removed the gun barrel from your forehead.

You barely had a moment to breathe in relief before he began skimming the gun down your neck, touching the metal whisper-gentle across your bare skin - clearly taunting you. It was something that made your whole body stiff with alarm, and caused Spencer’s eyes to go wide once again.

“Perhaps I should strip you naked to ensure that you’re not wearing a wire.” Cyrus said, teasing the gun along the buttons at the front of your cardigan.

You held back a sob at the thought of it - at the idea that he could make you do almost anything for the fear of you being shot. Truthfully, you were more afraid of what he might do to Spencer if you didn’t comply, but it was all the same in your mind now. His life was just as valuable as yours, and you would do whatever it took to protect him.

Before Cyrus could take these threats any further, a heroic voice intervened.

“That’s enough!” Spencer yelled.

He gathered himself off the floor and oddly enough, none of the men moved to stop him as he came to stand beside Cyrus. Perhaps they didn’t see him as a threat. Perhaps it was because Cyrus didn’t bark any orders at them to stop him. He was entirely unflinching, keeping his focus on you and keeping his gun held between your breasts as Spencer crowded into his personal space, trying to press himself between you and the awful man.

“We’ve told you everything that we know.” Spencer told him lowly, his voice heaving with well controlled anger. It was something that you had rarely ever heard from him.

Cyrus kept his eyes locked on you, so Spencer continued.

“We don’t know anything about the FBI - we have a simple job advocating for children who have been abused. That is it. We came here to investigate a most likely false claim against someone in your community and we truly didn’t mean to get caught up in all of this.” He said firmly, clearly trying to appeal to Cyrus. “So I suggest you get that gun away from my wife before you and I truly have a problem.”

Spencer’s voice was dark, so thick with rage. More pent up rage than you had ever heard from him when he was talking to any suspect, people who had done the worst of the worst. Something about Cyrus threatening you had truly boiled his insides.

The way he said the words ‘my wife’ - growling it out like he was a feral animal and this threat to you had activated every single one of his protective instincts. Hearing it made something inside of you yearn for him on such a deep level that you didn’t know was possible. You wanted to feel that kind of protection cast over you every single day. It made you feel invincible, having Spencer watch over you like that.

Cyrus lowered the gun then, and Spencer grabbed your arm as you dissolved into hysterical tears. Instinctively, he lifted you up into his arms. You thought that you heard Cyrus mumble out ‘my apologies’ as he left the room - but he was barely on your radar. Your entire world became narrowed down to nothing but Spencer, your safety net as he built a wall of protection around you.

He used his height to block you from seeing anything but him, letting you push your face into his chest as you cried. He wrapped you in his arms once again, letting you feel truly safe for a few moments as you sobbed into the fabric of his sweater. Your arms clutched desperately at his waist, needing to keep a hold on him - needing to ensure that he didn’t leave you.

“Hey, shh. Shh. It’s okay.” He said, leaving gentle kisses on the top of your forehead and your hair, rubbing across your back with one hand, comforting you in the only way he could in those moments. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Of course, he wanted to break down too. But he had to be strong for you.

“Spencer,” You called his name in an utterly wounded voice, pulling away from his chest to look up at him.

When you saw his injury up close - a sharp, purple-red bruise that was blooming across his cheek, it looked so utterly painful. Your insides ached at the thought that he had taken a blow for you. You hated to imagine what more they could have done to him if they had not believed your lies.

You instinctively reached a hand up to touch it and he caught your fingers halfway, instead, gently grasping your hand and laying it on his chest. The intimacy felt so oddly rehearsed - so worn in, so ‘normal’. It felt like you had been married to Spencer for years. Like it wasn’t a play at all.

Your two souls had been calling out to each other for years, just waiting for the dam to break. But you couldn’t quite put it into words - not like that.

“It’s okay.” He said quietly, knowing you were horrified by the injury.

He was so gentle, so comforting, so calm. Everything the men pointing guns at you were not. Unlike Cyrus - Spencer Reid was a true blessing from God.

You couldn’t hold yourself back then.

You surged up and kissed him, fully embracing his mouth with yours in a kiss. Though it was so sudden, it was something he easily returned. The kiss so full of urgency, so needy, so passionate. Like he was trying to tell you that it was okay, that he would protect you no matter what.

He would protect you because you belonged to him.

In those moments, the two of you were basically alone. One of Cryus’ men was guarding the door, watching on boredly. But Cyrus was off in the church, funneling people in to prepare for his ‘loyalty’ test. It didn’t matter if he saw you kissing or not - it wouldn’t have sold the reuse of you being married any better.

This was just for the two of you. This was comfort.

When you pulled back from the kiss, Spencer looked stunned, almost as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. You didn’t give him time to question it.

“Thank you.” You said quietly.

It was twofold:

Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for giving me comfort.

Spencer didn’t have too much time to marinate in the meaning of the kiss before Cyrus’ men came back and fetched the two of you, wanting you to observe the loyalty test.

…

After the mock poisoning (which Spencer figured out rather quickly, making you admire his cleverness once again), Cyrus kept you and Spencer in the church with a few of his closest, most loyal followers while all of the low level followers dispersed back to their homes.

You and Spencer were lingering in the back quietly while Cyrus was on the other end of the room, talking to his men about how to proceed. The plans for their ‘final stand’.

“We need to get some kind of signal to the others.” Spencer whispered quietly. “Maybe they’ll take pity on you and let you go if-” He swallowed sharply, cutting himself off abruptly. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to voice whatever was on his mind.

“If what?” You probed. You wondered what the hell you could possibly be thinking.

“If we tell them that you’re pregnant.” He said, whispering so lowly that you almost didn’t catch the words.

You rolled your eyes sharply at this.

You had gotten married and had kids all in one day. What a miracle.

(In those moments, clouded by fear, you couldn’t see it for what it truly was - Spencer blatantly revealing his unconscious desires to have a baby with you.)

“We could convince them to release you. As a show of good faith. A pregnancy would be good leverage in that. You know how religious people are about fetuses-” Spencer reasoned.

“Yeah, and what if they give me a test?” You probed, punching a large hole in his logic. “We don’t know what kind of infirmary they have here. They obviously believe in modern technology. What if they want to give me an ultrasound to check on the fetus after the stress of the day? To prove that they did no harm to the precious unborn child,”

Spencer was easily caught on this point. If they examined you and found that you weren’t pregnant, all the lies would fall apart.

“Well… what if we tell them that you have a baby at home that you need to get back to?” Spencer reasoned, jumping to the next logical conclusion in his mind. “It’ll likely garner the same level of pity.”

“Your imaginary sperm is powerful, isn’t it?” You whispered back sharply. Spencer rolled his eyes this time. But he didn’t redact the plan as unreasonable, so you continued on. “Okay, what do I even do when I get out there? I’m not gonna be of any use to the tactical team. We don’t know what Cyrus’ final play is yet.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t bear to be separated from Spencer. Knowing that he was inside, potentially being beaten up more, potentially being shot and bleeding out from a wound without you knowing - it would kill you with stress. You need to be by his side. You needed to know that he was okay.

“Has God blessed your union with any children?” Cyrus appeared behind you suddenly.

You wondered if he had heard you say the word ‘pregnancy’ or if this was just a random topic that had come up in his mind.

His sudden appearance behind you caused you to whip around and crowd into the comfort of Spencer’s arms again because you were frightened. Naturally, Spencer wrapped his sheltering touch around your shoulders. Your back was gently pressed into Spencer’s front, his arm shielding you protectively as it was wrapped around your chest, holding you with his hand on one of your shoulders, unconsciously stroking his thumb across the fabric of your cardigan. The position had you both facing Cyrus, watching the fan in an offensive way.

And of course, Spencer didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes.” Spencer answered easily. “We have two kids at home. A boy and a girl. Iris and Hugo. Iris is almost three years old and Hugo is eleven months. His first birthday is coming up in June.”

You knew that Spencer could be very good at talking off a suspect’s ear under pressure, but when you heard him rattle off these ‘facts’ so easily, it hit you.

This wasn’t simply statistics or physiological knowledge - this was a very elaborate backstory for your supposedly real marriage. Perhaps he had thought about all of it on the car ride up (which was odd not to share it with you, in case Cyrus asked you a similar question and your answer didn’t match up with Spencer’s).

But if you weren’t mistaken, this wasn’t simply a backstory for your fake marriage during the undercover mission. This was a fantasy of his. Those were names he had lovingly chosen for your imaginary children - kids he had dreamed up in his head and wanted to be real.

Your heart ached at the thought of it. You found yourself missing a set of children that weren’t even real. (And distantly, wanting to jump his bones to make it a reality.)

“Tell me, Mr. Reid, would you find it so shameful for your daughter to marry young?” Cyrus asked.

You found it odd to hear Cyrus call Spencer ‘Mr. Reid’, but you realized that he hadn’t introduced himself as ‘Doctor’ in this setting. You held your tongue when you felt the need to correct him as you had so many other people, wanting Spencer to receive his proper title.

Your mind almost couldn’t focus on the question that Cyrus had asked. Of course, he was trying to get Spencer to stroke his ego once again. Basically admitting that the whole reason the two of you had come here was true - he was being vastly inappropriate with a young member of the church, and getting away with it. And he saw nothing wrong with it.

And he was trying to get an outsider to admit that he saw nothing wrong with it too.

When there was a moment of silence - Reid obviously torn on how to answer the question, Cyrus continued.

“Is there really something so wrong with a blooming young woman marrying a man who will protect her under God’s laws?” He probed, his voice so entirely confident. Clearly confident that he was right.

“Well, I’m not sure if I would let my daughter get married so young.” Reid said, finally speaking up. “I just know that I would want her to marry a man that would protect her, and be the best possible fit for her. Someone who would cherish her and be good to her no matter what.”

His answer made you swoon. You reached up and gently gripped his forearm in response, giving a light squeeze to show your approval. He leaned in and kissed the back of your head - dizzyingly, you were imagining him walking your imaginary daughter down the aisle before you had even gotten married yourself.

Maybe it was being so close to death, being threatened in such dangerous territory that was causing your life to accelerate at light speed in your mind. If you were going to lose everything, you might as well enjoy the escapism of a fake life with a beautiful man in your mind instead of being stuck on the heart pounding terror of being held hostage, right?

Surprisingly, his words drew a smile from Cyrus.

“You’re a protective father, aren’t you?” Cyrus asked.

“Of course.” Reid confirmed.

“I can always admire that in a man.” Cyrus nodded. “A man should always pride himself on protecting his family.”

There was another moment of pause, and you were hoping that the topic had been dropped completely.

“Do you have a picture of your children with you?” Cyrus asked.

You wondered if - in a different version of reality, where you and Spencer really were married, where Hugo and Iris really did exist - if you had a picture of them in your pocket, would Cyrus only be asking this so he could use the picture to taunt the two of you? What other purpose would he have for knowing what your children looked like?

“Unfortunately, no.” You answered. “I keep my family pictures on my desk. In my office. We - we’ve just been praying to get back to them safely.”

Cyrus seemed perturbed at you mentioning that you had an office. Something dark flickered over his features for a moment and then disappeared.

“Well… if it is right, God will grant you that safe passage.” Cyrus said.

Just when you truly thought the conversation was done, he said something to you that entirely grinded under your skin.

“I find it entirely odd that a mother of two young children spends her days working a job where she takes care of other people’s children, rather than staying at home with her own youngins where she belongs.”

He said, using that same entirely confident, righteous tone that he always did. Even though you were not really a working mother, you had a hard time not boiling with anger at the sexism ripe in his statement.

“How much must you be missing of your sweet angels lives to instead partake in the horrors of devils you shouldn’t have to witness.”

Of course.

You had a hard time not rolling your eyes at this or saying something harsh that would set him off. Instead, you reached up to Spencer’s arm around your shoulder, squeezing his fingers, trying to keep your patience.

“I’ll have you know that Y/N is an amazing mother.” Spencer piped up, knowing that Cyrus respected him enough as a man that he wouldn’t beat him simply for speaking up. “Her nurturing and caring makes her infinitely better at her job.”

Again, you knew that there was so much personal truth in Spencer’s words. He thought that you would make an amazing mother to his children - at least theoretically. He was entirely firm in that conviction. And he thought that your natural caring made you amazing at the job you did as a Profiler. He knew this from the quality of work he witnessed you doing every single day.

You didn’t know it - but it was just one of the many things that had caused him to fall in love with you.

Oddly enough, Cyrus’ words prodded at something deep inside of you. It made you imagine a life for yourself where you weren’t spending your days witnessing horrors from unspeakable devils - but instead, at home, looking out for Spencer’s imaginary children.

You would have said it was the fear of the day, clouding your mind. But maybe it was the clarity of being so close to death that made you realize what - and who - you truly wanted out of life.

…

Hours later, after some of the hostages had been released (the ‘non-believers’ who had failed the loyalty test), Cyrus had requested that some food be sent up. Spencer gave you a sharp look when he saw the message written on one of the takeout lids.

The team would be storming in to end the hold-out at 3am. You had to somehow ensure the safety of the hostages by then.

Obviously, the fake pregnancy idea was still warping through Spencer’s mind, but you had come up with some much better.

“Cyrus,” You called out his name gently, getting his attention. “You said that you have a nursery here?”

It had come up, during his long winded bragging about how perfect the Ranch was. Something about how mothers didn’t have to raise their children alone. The children were raised as more of a ‘group effort’ and women took ‘shifts’ in the nursery, allowing the women to rest or get chores done in the interim.

“Yes, we do.” He nodded.

Spencer stared at you with his jaw set, wondering what you were doing but not daring to speak.

“I - I’ve been missing my children dearly. I was wondering if I could go to your nursery and see if they need any help? It would do my soul good to be around young ones right now. After all the commotion of these days.” You spoke meekly, trying to play the part of the shaken up, dainty woman well.

Which was too difficult, seeing as you were playing up the fear you had already experienced.

He grinned. It was a rather menacing smile, and you tried your hardest not to show any further fear, or disgust.

“That sounds like a splendid idea.” He nodded. “Christopher, why don’t you escort her down to the nursery and then come back? We need you here for our final preparations.”

You were finally falling to those gender roles that he had been pushing on you since you had arrived. He didn’t suspect a thing. He simply thought that you were a God fearing woman falling to your natural womanly instincts, needing to care for children lest your womb shrivel up and you die.

Spencer rose from his seat and Cyrus stopped him.

“Just your wife.” He said, putting a hand in front of Spencer’s chest to stop him. “There are still some things you and I need to discuss. Man to man.”

You went over to Spencer and didn’t hesitate to plant a kiss firmly on his mouth, which he returned with vigor. This one lasted only a moment - it was something precious for the two of you. You didn’t need to put on some pointed show for the men in the room.

“It’s okay.” You told Spencer quietly, brushing your fingers gently over his uninjured cheek.

You could tell that he was dying to ask you what your plan was. But he kept the words trapped in his throat, unable to speak in front of the many temperamental villains lurking about.

“Come on.” Christopher grunted.

Spencer gave you a longing look as you left. He didn’t want to think it, but as he watched your figure retreat out the door, he feared that it would be the last time he ever saw you.

…

Your plan worked flawlessly.

Getting to the nursery meant that you had unsupervised access to the women and children, especially away from Cyrus’ prying ears. Because you were a ‘delicate’ woman, nobody suspected you of having ulterior motives. You easily found a crack in Kathy, Jessica’s mother. You spotted her as the one who had made the original 9-1-1 call, wanting to get her daughter away from Cyrus. You convinced her to help you get everyone out, and you felt intense relief when you were met with a familiar face in the cellar as everyone escaped through the tunnels.

“Where’s Reid?” Morgan easily asked you, glancing behind your shoulder as if waiting for him to appear.

“He’s still up at the church.” You told him. “I had to separate off to help get the women and children out-”

“Go on, we have to get you out!” Morgan urged, trying to gently usher you along.

“We have to go get Reid!” You argued, trying to turn around.

“Go, go on, I’ll go get Reid!” He told you.

You were about to argue back, but you were cut off by a scuffle behind you.

Jessica was yelling about Cyrus - how her mother had betrayed her, tricked her.

Morgan pushed Kathy toward you and ran off screaming for Jessica. You took Kathy’s arm, gently convincing her that everything was going to be okay as you guided her the rest of the way out. You had to focus on this, convincing yourself that everything was going to be okay. You had to tell yourself that Derek was going to get Spencer out - that they were both going to be okay.

When you got outside, you were hyper focused on marching away, taking a path away from the church as directed by the officers in charge. You froze in your tracks when you heard it - an earth shattering boom. The ground beneath your feet shook. You felt a puff of hot air swell to touch your back.

You let go of Kathy’s arm and whipped around, and you couldn’t even pay attention to where she went. You almost thought you heard her weeping, but your mind couldn’t process it as your eyes were glossed in bright orange flame.

It was the church.

“Spencer?” You gasped quietly. “Spencer!”

You couldn’t help it, but you began to run toward it. Your feet carried you faster than you could think, and before you got more than a few feet across the ground, you felt a sharp grip on your upper arm.

“L/N!”

Hotch’s voice, sounding far too distant for the position he held right behind you, viciously gripping onto you as you fought against him, trying to get toward the fire - trying to get to Spencer.

“Hey! Hey! Stop it!” Hotch tried to order you around, tried to get you to stand down.

He got a hand around your waist, and you continued to kick like a wild horse, fighting against his grip as hot tears poured down your face.

“He’s in there!” You sobbed. “Spencer is still in there.”

“Calm. Down.” Hotch ordered sharply.

You collapsed back into him sobbing, all of the fight leaving your muscles at once. You couldn’t fake the reality in front of you.

“You running in there and getting hurt isn’t going to change anything.” Hotch told you quietly, a somehow distant murmur into your ear.

Through the blur of your tears and the sharp orange glow, you saw the shape of two bodies. You heard coughing as someone emerged from the blast, hobbling down the stairs at the front of the church. You forced your eyes open wider, trying to see who it was, and then:

“Y/N!” Spencer called out your name gruffly through the smoke he had inhaled, and you easily shucked off Hotch’s grip to race up the stairs to get to him.

He was leaning on Morgan for support and you were worried that he was hurt. But the moment you were close enough, he tore himself away from Morgan and the two of you met in the middle. In a pattern that was easily developing, you fell into the safety of his arms, holding him tight enough to bruise him - never wanting to let go.

“You’re so stupid, you’re so stupid! Why would you do that to me?”

You sobbed out, gripping both sides of his face, staring into his eyes, needing the recognition that he was right there, right in front of you.

He stared back with glassiness - intense fear, adrenaline, and something small that told you he was thankful for you, and needed you now more than ever.

Of course, your words were simple anger at the situation, not at Spencer himself. The terror of thinking that he was dead still pumping through your veins, causing you to shake.

“I know.” He said quietly. “I love you.”

His voice wrapped around the words so tenderly - it was the most sincere declaration you had ever heard from him. As if to say ‘I know how much that scared you. I know what this ordeal has done to us and I only meant it more because of how scared I am’.

“I love you too.” The words flew from your lips so naturally it hurt. You took a moment to recover, entirely shocked by your own lips. And then, you only found the need to say it growing more inside of you. “Spencer, I love you.”

You pulled him toward you with the grip you had on his face, and he easily met you in one of the most earth shattering kisses you had ever experienced.

It was no longer a show, it was no longer about displaying the fake marriage for someone else’s benefit - if it had ever been about that in the first place. It was about the two of you. It was about feeling that comfort, that safety. It was about the fact that your two souls were drawn together since the day you had met. The fact that you had always felt safe with each other. You had always been the other person’s shelter from the storm.

And you poured every ounce of those feelings into that kiss.

You combed your fingers through Spencer’s hair, taking a harsh grip on the back of it, holding him there so he couldn’t pull away from your lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist, fisting the back of your sweater. Both of you entirely refused to come up for oxygen, not even caring who saw the epically passionate, public display of your love for each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Morgan and Hotch exchanged a look with raised brows as it happened. You and Spencer didn’t care. You were barely perceiving the world around you as the two of you kissed.

“You know if you’re not careful, people are actually gonna think you two are married.” Morgan said, being his usual sarcastic self.

Rather than pulling away from Spencer’s lips to sass him back - you simply flipped Derek off over Spencer’s shoulder.

On the ride home, JJ handed Derek five dollars. He had the over/under that the two of you would get together before the end of the year. JJ said that it wouldn’t happen for another five years, at least. Derek handed the fiver to Emily when she reminded him that the ‘fake marriage’ bit had actually been her idea.

When Emily and JJ relayed the story to Penelope, she squealed so loudly into the phone that JJ dropped it.

Hotch pulled you aside later and warned you that the fake rings were just cheap costume jewelry that Garcia had gotten and they would tarnish soon if you kept wearing them. He also recommended that you and Spencer put in the paperwork with HR if you were ‘serious’ about the relationship. You knew that it was him wishing the two of you his best.

A few days later when you came into work and found the HR request for an update of relationship status sitting on your desk, already signed by Spencer, you couldn’t help but to smile.

...

A/N: This is a oneshot, so there will not be a continuation or a sequel to it. If you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that I have written, rather than asking me to write 'more'. If you want to see more things that I have written about Spencer, feel free to check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist.

#sundrop writes #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic

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milkywaygalaxygurl · 5 months

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The Go-Ahead - Art Donaldson

request: hiii could you do any plot/story/scenario where tashi knows art is interested/in love/infatuated or just attracted to reader so she gives him the green light as long as it’ll have him play tennis better … sorry if this doesn’t make sense or is weirdly specific i’m just a little obsessed with this scenario

i took some liberties with the personality of Y/N since it wasn’t specified, i made her shy and a little awkward because i could definitely see art falling for an adorably shy woman after being with tashi’s confident self for so long. i wrote this as the reader being female because gender wasn’t specified, but let me know if you’d like me to change it!! i personally really hate the way i wrote this and it’s definitely not my best, i honestly might rewrite it eventually because there’s kind of a lack of romance but i really hope y’all like it:’)

Pairing: Art Donaldson x Female!Reader

Warnings: thoughts of infidelity, probably swearing, suggestive words, idk if i missed anything else but yeah

Word Count: 2.2k

Description: Y/N caught Art’s eye the second she walked into the Stanford reunion Tashi had practically forced Art to attend. He couldn’t believe how breathtakingly beautiful she was or the fact that he was thinking this way about someone other than Tashi. Unbeknownst to Art, Tashi notices and forms a plan.

Art loved Tashi wholeheartedly, he always had and always would. Some part of him knew that Tashi would never love him as much as he did her, but he felt content knowing she chose him to spend her life with. Even if they fought about tennis and rarely spoke about anything else, Art never thought anybody could take his eyes off Tashi.

That is, until you walked into the venue the Stanford reunion was being held in. It’s almost as if his eyes were drawn to your presence entering the room, eyes immediately snapping towards you. His breath catches in his throat for a second, his eyes widening slightly. He lets out an awkward cough, nodding when Tashi asks if he’s okay.

He tries not to make it obvious when he glances back at you to catch another look, but Tashi notices and follows his line of sight. She has to force herself to hold back a scoff at first, but an idea quickly forms in her head. She studies you just like Art, noticing the way you give awkward smiles and how the flush in your cheeks never seems to lessen as you fidget awkwardly and stumble through small talk with former classmates.

You are beautiful, even Tashi can admit that, she doesn’t blame Art for allowing his eyes to wander (especially with the state of their relationship). As you move closer to the couple, Tashi suddenly realizes that she had a class with you all those years ago. You were kind to her after her knee injury, you weren’t the best of friends but you had taken notes for her while she missed class for physical therapy and always offered a helping hand when needed.

She glances at Art, noticing how his eyes are still trained on you. She chuckles slightly before making her mind up, looping her arm through Art’s and practically dragging him over to where you stand.

“Y/N! Hi, it’s so good to see you!” She plasters on a smile, chuckling slightly when you look at her wide eyed for a second. You were still the same shy girl you were back then, it had honestly always annoyed Tashi how unconfident you were.

“Tashi! Wow, you look amazing.” You smile at her after getting over your initial awkwardness, turning to look at Art for a second before looking back at her. Tashi clocks it immediately, but doesn’t let either of you know.

“Oh hush, look at you! I’m sure you remember Art, right?” She lays a hand on her husband’s arm, turning to look at him. He’s looking at you like a lovesick puppy and, in all honesty, it doesn’t bother her one bit.

“Yeah, of course! You guys were like the prodigies of our class, I think you guys are part of the very few of us who actually went on to make a name for themselves.” You chuckle, glancing at Art again.

It takes Art a minute to even speak, but his mouth finally starts to move as he holds a hand out to you. “It’s nice to meet you. Y/N, was it?”

You shake his hand softly, nodding your head. “I helped Tashi a little after her knee injury, I’m honestly surprised she even remembered me!” Chuckling awkwardly, you take your hand back and hope he didn’t notice how sweaty it was.

Tashi pretends to notice something across the room, apologizing profusely and saying she’ll be right back. When Art tries to follow her, she shoos him away and tells him to stay talking with you. He tries not to seem too excited at the idea, but the way he turns around quickly gives him away.

Art notices the way you fidget with the rings on your fingers and the way your eyes dart around awkwardly as if you’re looking for the nearest escape. He honestly thinks it’s adorable, but tries his best to help you feel less awkward by starting a new conversation.

“What was your major?” He asks, tilting his head to the side slightly. The question seems to ease the tension, your eyes lighting up as you smile.

“Originally it was Journalism but after I realized that I’d have to interview people, I very quickly switched to just having English as my major. I wrote a few books that didn’t get as much attention as I hoped they would, so I’m an editor for a magazine now.”

“It’s actually kind of crazy, the last thing I edited was a column about you.” You smile at him, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat when he smiles in return.

“All good things, I hope?” He asks, making you nod your head quickly as you jump to reassure him.

Tashi never returned to the conversation despite swearing she would and you talked with Art for what felt like hours. Before you knew it, you were laughing like old friends and the conversation was flowing nicely. You catch yourself wondering what it would be like if you had met him all those years ago, if maybe he’d have had a crush on you before he dated Tashi.

You knew it was wrong to think that way about a married man, but you rationalized it out by saying they were just thoughts. Truly, that’s all they were. You would never try meddling in a relationship that seemed as strong as theirs. You didn’t realize how long you’d been talking until you glanced down at your phone, your mouth falling open in shock.

“We’ve been talking for so long!” Turning your phone around to show Art the time, his own mouth falls open too before splitting into a grin.

“I really hate to say this, but I really have to go. I have to go into work early tomorrow and I really need to get a good night’s sleep beforehand.” You look up at him with puppy dog eyes and Art swears he felt his heart skip a beat.

“That’s alright, I really enjoyed talking to you. Let’s go find Tashi and we’ll walk you out, we should get going too.” He looks around for a second and almost immediately spots Tashi, pointing her out to you so you two can make your way over.

You say an awkward goodbye once you’re at your car and before you step in, Tashi is calling out to you for your number. “We should keep in touch! We can all go out for drinks sometime.”

You give it to her, honestly a little startled she wanted to keep in contact. You exchange another goodbye before driving off, hoping it wouldn’t be too long before you see Art again.

It took Tashi all of two seconds to turn to Art with a raised eyebrow. “You seemed to really like her.” Her voice is deadpan, her arms crossed.

“Wh- What do you mean?” He looks at her wide eyed, like a child who’s been caught. She chuckles, shaking her head.

“I saw the way you looked at her when she walked in and the whole time you guys were talking, I’m not stupid.” Art gaps at her, his mouth opening and shutting a few times.

“Art, I don’t give a fuck. Why do you think I asked for her number?” He’s still gaping at her, trying to find the right words.

“You’ve been playing like shit, you can’t deny it. She made you the most excited I’ve seen you in a while. If she’s what it takes for you to play good again, I don’t care if you fuck her. Hell, you could enter a full blown relationship with her and I wouldn’t care if it means you play better.”

Art tries to defend himself, tries to say he would never do that to Tashi, but part of him is excited at the prospect of her giving him the go-ahead. After lots of convincing and back and forth between them, Art decides to just go for it. You guys all hung out after that night a few times, but eventually Tashi was always “busy” and it turned into just you and Art going out for drinks or watching movies. It wasn’t until after a few months of these hang outs when Art decided to bring up the idea to you.

“I know this is a really strange offer, but I really just need you to hear me out before you say anything.” His words make you raise an eyebrow as you turn to look at him. You notice how nervous he seems, his thumb rubbing the ring on his finger.

“I find you attractive, I honestly really like you. I know I’m married to Tashi, but her and I have honestly been going downhill for months. All we ever talk about is tennis, she barely even wants to touch me anymore. I- I know it’s strange, but she gave me permission to pursue something with you. If you’re interested, that is.”

You stare at him for a second, your face void of any emotion. “Did she really give you the okay or is this just some manipulation tactic? Because you know how I feel about cheating.”

He nods his head quickly, “If you want, you can talk to her about it. We’ve been discussing this since the night I met you, that’s why these hang outs eventually turned into just you and I.”

You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You couldn’t lie and say that you didn’t want this, but you didn’t want to enter into something that would inevitably cause pain for all parties involved.

“So, what, I’m just supposed to fuck you and then let you go home to your family? I can’t do that to myself, Art.” In the months that you’d been hanging out with Art, your shyness slowly disappeared and he got to see the more confident side of you. He couldn’t deny that it made him like you all the more.

“I-I mean, if you really wanted to, we don’t have to just do that. We could be in a relationship, I could stay with you some nights and go home for Lilly other nights. I don’t want you to think I just want to use you, because I don’t want to. You’re amazing, Y/N. These past few months have been so nice, I love just getting to sit with you and not having to talk about tennis or training. You make me feel normal, like I’m not just a puppet.”

You rub your forehead again, closing your eyes to think. “We can do this, but all three of us need to sit down and discuss boundaries. We need to do this right.”

Art’s face breaks out into a bright grin, his hands reaching for your own. “That’s fine with me, thank you for giving this a chance.”

The next day, you found yourself having the awkward sit down with him and Tashi to discuss boundaries. It took nearly the whole day, but eventually things were settled. With the weight of that off your chest, you felt comfortable starting something with Art.

Months went by and your love for Art only grew deeper. He was so kind and attentive, always making sure you were still okay with the arrangement and that you felt cared for. You feared the dynamic would be weird, but you often saw Tashi and even met Lilly a few times. Things were going amazing and you couldn’t ask for anything more.

It was nearly six months into your relationship the first time Art told you he loved you. You were lying in bed, the TV casting a glow in the otherwise dark room. Art was cuddled into your side, his head resting on her chest and his arm wrapped tightly around you. As he listened to the sound of your heartbeat and felt your chest move with every breath you took, he realized just how glad he was to have met you that night. He had gotten better at playing, he felt more loved than he had honestly ever felt with Tashi, and he was truly and utterly content with his life.

“Y/N?” He whispers your name, propping his head up on your chest to look at you. You look down at him, running your fingers through his hair as you smile softly at him. You hum softly to let him know you’re listening, it was something you did often that made Art’s heart skip several beats.

“I love you, truly. I’m so glad I met you and I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.” His words make you smile, your cheeks heating up as you lean down to give him a million kisses.

“I love you too, my sweet boy.” Art grins at you, sitting up so he can kiss your face. You giggle at the feeling, grabbing his face to pull him in for a real kiss. You were truly so grateful for Art and your relationship, and you were grateful for Tashi allowing it. This was the happiest you’d been in years and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#art donaldson challengers #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fanfic #challengers fanfic #challengers fic

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writingwithcolor · 9 months

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Author with cultural disconnect: How do I write without making it seem as if I hate my own heritage?

Anonymous asked:

I’m a white-passing Asian author, and I’ve never felt all that connected with my heritage. My current story centers on a fairy (re: fantasy-world POC) child and ends with her realizing that her parents are toxic af and her human best friend’s family takes her in. This is the perfect opportunity to sort through my own issues with my heritage and finally convince my monkey-brain that it’s okay to not know how to cook Vietnamese food or celebrate tet or speak Vietnamese… But I also realize that if I’m not careful, this could easily slip into “Hey, I hate my heritage and so should you!” So how can I stop that from happening?

Writing for yourself first, not an audience

I ask you a simple question: why put pressure on yourself to have any sort of non-offensive messaging for a story that hasn’t been drafted yet and is to convince your monkey brain it’s okay to exist as yourself?

That seems like the fastest way to stop the story from being actually cathartic and instead a performance art piece when you already feel hung up on performing as “properly” part of your culture.

As I said in Working Through Identity Issues and Other Pitfalls of Representation, not all stories you write need to be for public consumption. Especially stories you’re using for your own self-processing and therapy, because you’re trying to get a cathartic moment that is rewriting your own story.

At what point does the public need to be involved in that?

I do understand the compulsion to want to post—I have definitely posted some Questionable™ material in my drive to get validation for feeling the way I do, wanting people to witness me and say “same.” It’s a powerful urge. Sometimes it’s worked, but most of the time it’s just made me feel horrifically exposed.

But you really do not have to post in public to get any sort of validation. Set up a groupchat with friends if you want the cheerleading and witnessing—people who will know your story and give you good-faith interpretations and won’t accuse you of anything. Honestly I’d suggest setting up this groupchat anyway; as someone who just got one again after quite a few years without it, my productivity has skyrocketed from being around supportive people.

Let the monkey brain have its monkey brain moment and shut off the concept the story is for the public. Shut off the concept of performing for an unknown audience. It’s for you. Be authentic, no matter how bad it would look to outsiders. They’re not reading it. Part of getting catharsis, sometimes, is being the worst version of yourself, somewhere nobody else can see it.

Deciding to publish the work

If, after you do write it, you find that you actually do want to polish it up and put it somewhere… edit it. Rewrite it entirely if that’s what it takes. Take the story through the same drafting process every story needs to go through, ripping out the unfortunate implications as you go.

Editing can be its own form of healing, as you try to figure out what this character would need to not be hateful. As you realize, once this longform journal entry is out of your head, what was bothering you now that you can see it pinned down on a page. But you absolutely do not need to write with the intention of editing in that healing. When I’ve tried, it’s fallen flat.

The healing will come from being yourself, no public involved, and writing about your feelings in their rawest form. Anything else is extra.

There’s no point in trying to put guard rails on the drafting process, not for a deeply personal piece. And by the time that drafting process is done, you’ll likely have specific scenarios and contexts that you can ask about, and you might even have ideas on how to fix it yourself once the story has a shape to it.

This is 100% a situation where there’s no real sense in idea workshopping something in the plotting stage. You’re doing something for you. Decide if it’s for public consumption later (while acknowledging “no” is a perfectly valid answer), and only figure out how to make the story not overtly harmful if you decide to put it out into the public.

~ Leigh

#culture #cultural disconnect #creator responsibility #writing #authors of color #asks

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buggachat · 1 year

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To be clear, I goddamn hated the finale on first watch. I was withering in my seat. My heart had dropped to my stomach. I had no fucking idea what I was watching in that final scene lmao

and then Adrien said "when Ladybug gave me the rings—" and I was like— wait. LADYBUG? LADYBUG STILL EXISTS?

I THOUGHT THE ENTIRE TIMELINE HAD BEEN REWRITTEN 😭😭😭😭 I THOUGHT LADYBUG AND CHATN OIR DIDNT UFCKING EXIST uNTIL ADRIEN SAID THAT I WAS SO SO SO SCARED

and then I realized, oh wait. This isn't a complete utopian timeline rewrite. This is just a timeskip of a few months and Mme Bustier is just a kickass mayor. In fact, she's only mayor BECAUSE it's still the same timeline. And then I realized, hey, wait, if they didn't rewrite the timeline, then how tf is Emilie casually there with no questions?

And then I realized she was wearing black. And Félix was there. And I remembered Amelie exists.

Basically, I went into the finale chanting to myself "it's okay, it's okay... they probably wont bring Emilie back... they probably won't rewrite the entire timeline permanently.... right? please....", even though I didn't actually expect it to happen, but just because I was terrified that it could. And apparently that fear actually got to me so much that I misinterpreted the episode as being everything I didn't want it to be... when... it actually wasn't that at all

anyway, all of this is to say, everything in the episode happens so fast that it confused and terrified me at first. And when I realized what had happened, my opinion went from "my year is ruined" to "oh. well. okay. kind of disappointing, I guess". And then I kept thinking about it, and the ending, and all that is set up and rewatching the scenes and all the loose ends still in place and.... i realized I loved it?

like, every time I think about this finale, I love it more. every time i rewatch a scene, I get a little obsessed. this episode went from my nightmare to actually really really cool to me, and I'm still kind of reeling from it

Basically, this is why I've been kind of passionately defending the finale— not because I think people who don't like it are """dumb""" or anything, I don't blame people at all for that, and I totally get the confusion. I was confused too. And I know I'm not the only one who went in preparing themselves for the worst, or went in with very specific expectation on what will happen, because this finale has been long awaited for so long. I think everyone was shocked with how it ended. I think most people probably startled at Amelie's face (it's so easy to forget she exists....)

Anyways, I started this post basically as an apology for if I seem too aggressive or defensive about the finale. Because I get it! I get hating it! I get being disappointed or frustrated or confused! Part of why I'm so defensive is because I have all the arguments so ready on the tip of my tongue because I had the very same argument with myself already 😭 So I'm sorry if any of my posts came off as too aggressive and in advance for any future posts that might. I promise promise promise I'm not trying to make anyone feel bad for having bad opinions on the finale! I just think this episode is really cool and the fact I related to a lot of the nay-sayers makes it easy to feel so impassioned about it.

But this post is getting off the rails and I'm just gonna let it, because some of my regrets w my participation in fandom is that I find myself chickening out of actually talking about my thoughts on episodes a lot. I get kind of overwhelmed and overthink everything after I've posted it and I'm a shy person. But my inbox is closed and this is the season 5 finale and I want to ramble and ramble so I will allow myself this

Basically, I went in with some very specific expectations for this episode. We all know about the Hawkmoth defeat story. Many of us have read it in fics over and over again, it was teased in Chat Blanc, we all know what we expect, we all know our favorite beats from it.

And what actually happened....... met virtually none of those beats. (For me, at least).

Like, Adrien wasn't there for the final episode. At all. He was completely absent from the confrontation. He never found out his father was Hawkmoth. He got his rings, but he never found out he was a sentimonster. He is living in the dark.

Ladybug confronted Monarch... alone. Which is sad, when so much of the series is dedicated to the partnership of her and Chat Noir. Them against the world....... and Monarch was "defeated" with nary a Chat Noir in sight.

The whole entire "Gabriel is known as a hero" thing. I don't think anybody was expecting that. Absolutely shocking.

The fact Marinette would lie to Adrien like that. The fact she's keeping so much from him. The fact everyone is. SO MANY people in Adrien's life (Marinette, Plagg, Nathalie, Felix, Amelie, Kagami, probably Alya, maybe more I'm not thinking of....) are just... lying to him, now. He is so in the dark. He knows nothing.

But.........

I kind of like that I didn't predict nearly any of this. I like that it caught me off guard. I love how this show just completely baffles me at every turn, how it will present concepts and ideas to me that I've never read a fic about.

In retrospect, Chat Noir being absent from the final battle... makes sense. It actually makes a lot of sense, if I think about it, because... there is only one possible way that could've gone, right? Chat Noir would not be allowed to have the emotional implosion that he would have to have. This is devastating. This is SO devastating. This is the entire shattering of Adrien's entire world we're talking about, and Chat Blanc is the only real way for that to end. Adrien has an emotional implosion in front of Monarch, he gets akumatized, it turns into an emotion explosion, extinction event. The end. We've already seen it.

And........ even if it didn't end that way, even if he managed to avoid akumatization...... how could the finale satisfyingly end on that note? How could it end in any semblance of a "wrapped up" way, at the very start of Adrien's emotional breakdown? It couldn't. I wouldn't WANT it to. In retrospect, Adrien finding out his dad is Monarch and then.... what? The season ends on a close-up of him crying? The season ends with a time-skip to the new school year where they skipped his entire grieving period!? I would HATE that, actually. I would hate that. I thought I wanted it, but I would hate it. I would hate it so so so much.

What's kind of amazing is that the finale ended with Monarch being defeated.... but Adrien still has those realizations to make. He still has those betrayals to come to terms with. There is time for him to make these realizations, for him to come to these conclusions, perhaps one at a time, perhaps in a more controlled environment.... and that gets me far, far more excited for the seasons to come than an episode that tried to wrap it all up in the last 5 minutes.

Also, the reason Adrien didn't go to the final battle was because he feared becoming Chat Blanc. He didn't know the truth to it, didn't understand that literally, yes, that's what would have happened if he was there, even if he hadn't been under a nightmare curse. But he still knew. He still expected it. He willingly chose to sit it out, no matter how much he hated it, because he knew. And there's something kind of powerful to that, I think, of Adrien making a choice that is so unequivocally the Correct choice, even more than he realized. And the strength it took for him to make that decision...... damn.

As for the lies and the Gabriel statue? I... it's upsetting, but it's supposed to be. And I believe it. I absolutely believe it. I 10000% believe Marinette would keep the secret of Monarch's identity to herself to try to save Adrien the pain. I 10000% believe that the population could easily be led to believe a famous billionaire is a hero. I 10000% believe that Adrien would WANT to believe it. I 10000% believe Tomoe would take advantage of it.

And I can't wait to see that illusion crumble.

Also.... this is the beginning of The Lila arc.

And the Lila arc begins on........ Marinette telling the biggest, boldest face lie she ever told. The Lila arc begins on the most extreme city-wide illusion we've ever seen. It begins on such a huge fabrication and....

..... it's Marinette's lie.

............ and Lila knows that it's a lie.

I'm

!!?!?!?!

This is so fucking cool???? The irony here??? the deceit???? All these loose ends, all the possible confrontations, all the ways this could GO. I don't know where the show is taking this, obviously, because nobody ever can predict where this show is going apparently (and I love it for that), but oh my god. I'm imagining all the fics I could read about this. all the fics I could write. all the thoughts and scenarios that this finale has provided me with to daydream about as I go to sleep.

Adrien, going through the motions of life. Looking up to his father as a hero, despite the fact the last time he saw him, Adrien was sobbing, in tears, and cursing his name. Adrien, after all the abuse he was subject to, having to look up at a statue of his father and...... be forced to think that maybe he was wrong about his father. But he's not wrong. He WASN'T wrong. He just THINKS that he is. His father is going to continue to loom over his life in ways I never expected post-hawkmoth. Adrien's relationship with Gabriel has not ended, a new and terrifying and horrible new chapter of it has simply begun, and Adrien is still as manipulated by his father's ghost as he was by his father himself.

THAT'S. WILD!!!

also, Adrien now believes that MONARCH MURDERED HIS FATHER. Chat Noir now believes that his greatest nemesis KILLED HIS FATHER. CHAT NOIR, resident self-sacrificer, believes that HIS FATHER was a HERO who DIED FIGHTING MONARCH. Adrien thinks that maybe he should be more like his father— more like his father who died in battle. This is. Not Good. For Adrien.

And it's Marinette that started this. Well intentioned Marinette, who doesn't really understand the extent of the horrors. Marinette, Adrien's girlfriend, the person he trusts most. She did this.

And, I mean.... god. I totally get how this sucks for a lot of people, because it's objectively upsetting.... but I LOVE lovesquare tension. Season 4 is probably my favorite season for that reason alone (still mulling over if season 5 beat it for me). I love the relationship drama, I love that it's in character drama, I love how it fits everything we know about them sososo well, I love that it's horrible and it's terrible and it's awful and it's all because Marinette loved Adrien too much to want to hurt him.

I was worried no reveal would mean that season 6 would just be... what? adrienette fluff? not that I don't love that, but where's the drama? well. there it is. that's the drama.

I need to stop typing this. I know this is abysmally long and ranty and if you read all of this then I'm sorry. But I wanted to get some of my thoughts out.

But basically, I was expecting a lot of things for the finale.

In my best case scenario, it would somehow, miraculously tie up and address all the loose ends with Adrien's angst and character arc in two episodes.... and then end with me totally satisfied, ready to only half-heartedly watch season 6 like it was just a small dessert after the main course.

And I already described my worst case scenario (my first impression of the episode lmao)

But it wasn't that. I was expecting a series finale, but I got a season finale. And I love season finales. I love how they keep me wanting more. I love how excited I am for season 6, because in both my best and worst case scenarios, I honestly didn't expect to be. I love all the new ideas and thoughts and scenarios swirling around in my brain. And even if season 6 doesn't address some of the things I want addressed, I'm so excited to see the creative content in this fandom that DOES

#ml spoilers #ml s5 spoilers #ml s5 finale spoilers #ml re-creation #ml recreation #recreation spoilers #re-creation spoilers #I am SO SO SO SORRY that htis rant went OFF and I just rambled and rambled and I'm sure nobody will read this. however #sometimes I want to be silly. and my silly moment is rambling about my favorite show into the void on my tumblr #im not proof reading this so im so sorry if it's. um. all over the place and riddled w typos 😭 im vibing im vibing

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physalian · 6 months

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What No One Tells You About Writing #4 (100 Follower Special!)

Have you got any that deserve to be on these lists? Don’t be shy! Send ‘em over.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*This list contains mentions of assault, #4

1. Zero cursing is better than censored cursing

I made the mistake in the early days of writing a self-censoring character, and every “curse” she said just took the teeth out of the rest of the statement. I’m talking gosh, darn, dang, etc, not world-specific idioms a la “scruffy nerf herder” or “dunderhead” instead of “dumbass”.

Look to any American TV show that so, so badly wants to use f*ck or sh*t but has to appease the sensitive conservatives who still somehow believe strong language is worse than graphic violence and horrifying psychological damage. For shame! Your characters can be angry without expletives, so rework your sentences to include equally damning insults that don’t resort to potty mouths if you’re concerned about ratings.

Or go full-throttle into the idioms of the world or the time period like Pirates of the Caribbean. Or just… don’t. There’s zero modern cursing in the Lord of the Rings adaptation and not a single sentence that censors itself. The dialogue is above vulgarity and feels more *fantastical* that way anyway.

2. “Yeah, you aren’t the target audience.”

It’s kind of hilarious seeing the range of reader reactions to two characters I intend to have a romantic relationship. Some will go “I ship it!” after the first page of them together… and another will go “wait, I thought they were just friends” up until they kiss. Sometimes you might be too subtle, other times it might be better to just accept that you can’t rewrite your entire book to please one naysayer.

When I’m pitched a fantasy adventure book that turns out to be a by-the-numbers romance where no one is allowed to be a peasant and every important character is royalty in some way, with a way cooler fantasy backdrop, I get severely disappointed. That doesn’t mean the book is bad, it just means I’m not the target audience.

3. There is no greater character sin than making them boring

Unless you live in the wacky world we find ourselves in where any flaws whatsoever are apparently harmful depictions of so-and-so and not at all written with things like ~nuance~. I will gush over your heinous villain committing atrocities because he’s *interesting*. I will not remember Bland Love Interest who’s a generic everyman with zero compelling or intriguing traits or flaws.

There’s another tumblr post out there that I cannot find that says something like this, and I believe the post goes “his crimes are fiction, my annoyance is real”. Swap annoyance for boredom and you get what I mean. So, I don’t care what your character does so long as they’re memorable. I will either root for their victory or their doom, but I do need *something* to root for.

4. The line between “gratuitous” and “respectful” is actually very thick

Less what no one tells *you* about writing and more what no one tells screenwriters. Y’all do realize you can write a character who experiences assault without actually writing the assault, right? Fade to black, have them mention it in their backstory, or have the horrific aftermath as they come to terms with it. An abrupt cut to this devastated character when it’s all over and they’re alone with themselves can be incredibly poignant and powerful. This goes with anything sensitive, especially if it’s not coming from experience.

If you want to write it or film it respectfully, romanticizing assault, for instance, is when it’s framed as if either character has earned or “deserves” it. If the narrative in any way argues that it's justified. The victim might have "earned" it for any of the BS reasons we use in the real world, or the perpetrator might've "earned" it because of temptation, desire, pressure to assert dominance, etc. Representation is important, but are you “representing” to shed light on a misunderstood and maligned topic, or are you doing it to satisfy a fetish or bias in yourself?

5. Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach

Fantasy has no limitations, which means you can dig way deeper into the well of your worldbuilding than you realize, until you look up and realize you’re stuck down there. I have never seen a more obvious inevitable disaster looming than the pilot of GoT season 5. Why? Nobody has any plans. They’re all just led around by whatever side quest the writers throw them on, twiddling their thumbs until the writers deign to pull the trigger on the White Walkers.

To the point that what should be a major character can skip an entire season because his arc is meaningless. Everything in the last half of that show was one big “eventually” while the story toiled around in an ever-expanding cast of characters and set pieces (seriously, it’s hilarious how jarring the extended version of the theme music became compared to the pilot episode to fit all these locations).

When you have too many directionless characters, too many plot elements, too many ideas you want to fully mature and get their due spotlight and then somehow combine them all together for a common foe in the end, writing can get tedious and frustrating very quickly. Why, I imagine, the book series remains unfinished. Fantasy is great for being able to create such complex worlds, but don’t be the snake that eats its own tail trying too hard.

6. No one cares about your agenda if you insult them to push it

This deserves its own post but here we go. Peddling an agenda is a paradox: those who agree with you won’t need to be preached to, and those who you want to persuade will instead reject you further because they feel belittle and disrespected. This is why so many recent “strong female characters” fail on both sides of the aisle. Feminists see an annoying caricature of the movement they’re passionate about. Antifeminists see an insufferable, shallow, liberal mouthpiece when they just want to be entertained. You have failed both sides, congrats.

The answer? Write a strong, nuanced, well-developed character. Then make them a woman. I know this has been said before but this BS keeps happening so clearly the screenwriters aren’t listening. Entertain me first. Entertain me so well I don’t even realize I’m learning.

7. Today’s audiences won’t react the same way as tomorrow’s

Sometimes genres or tropes get oversaturated and need a few years to cool off before audiences are receptive to them again—teen dystopia, anyone?—that doesn’t mean your story is inherently bad because it’s unpopular (nor does it mean it’s amazing because it is popular).

You should always write the book you want to read, not the book that chases trends. I can pick up a well-written teen dystopia I’ve never read before and enjoy it. I can continue to ignore Divergent because it has nothing to say. Write the book you want to read, but then accept that you might make no money because no one else wants to read it, not because they think it’s bad. And, who knows? You might get a boom of chatter months or years down the line when readers stumble upon an uncut gem.

8. Your characters don’t age with you

Depending on how long you’ve been working on your world and what age you were when you started, the characters, concepts, morals, and story you set out to tell might no longer reflect who you want to be as an author when all is said and done. Writing can take years, some of which can be incredibly turbulent and life changing. I wrote the first draft of my first original novel in my freshman year of college. Those characters and that draft are now unrecognizable and has left a world I’ve poured my heart and soul into in limbo.

I’ve slowly creeped up my characters’ ages. My writing has matured dramatically. The themes I wanted to explore in the height of the 2016 election are just demoralizing now. That book was my therapeutic outlet and, as consequence, my characters sometimes reflect some awful moods and mindsets that I was in when writing them. But nothing in that world grows without me tending to it. It’s not alive. Despite all the work I’ve done, there’s still more to be done, maybe even restarting the plot from the ground up. When I think of what no one told me about writing, staring at characters designed by someone I’m not anymore is the hardest reality to accept.

—

If you think I missed something, check out parts 1-3 or toss your own hat into the ring. Give me romance tropes. Mystery, thriller, historical fiction, bildungsromans, memoires, children’s books, whatever you want! Give me stuff you wish you’d known before editing, publishing, marketing, and more.

Also, don’t forget to vote in the dialogue poll!

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #fantasy #sci fi #character design #what no one tells you about writing

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sunflower-lilac42 · 4 months

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𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 | 𝘩𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 ♔

➪ summary: afer many milestones of her brothers, she finally comes home for the first hughesbowl

➪ warnings: none (surprises?)

➪ word count: 2.6k

➪ file type: fic + one insta post

➪ sunny's notes: i'm pretty sure this was the first hughes bros fic i wrote so i definitely had to go back and rewrite a bunch of it. for a little context you're a famous youtube vlogger :) also i would definitely reread this one because a lot has changed and i wrote like a thousand more words for this one

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⟹ Sunday, December 3, 2023 @ 3:30 in the morning - Naples, Italy

“Hello everyone, my name is y/n, and welcome to my channel if you are new here and welcome back if you’re not! It is currently,” She pauses to take a brief look at her watch, “3:30 in the morning on Sunday, December 3. I am very much still in Italy, but not for long.”

The video cuts and now her camera is sitting on her desk, the windows are opened and the lights are adjusted to be a little bit brighter. She smiles brightly at the camera before she starts talking again, “So you’re probably seeing this mid-December ish whcih means you kind of already know what is going on, but. I am officially flying and moving back home.

“Italy has been such a great experience and I’ve had so much fun here, I’ve learned a ton of new things and I am so grateful for everyone I’ve met. If you know, I’ve been here for almost three years now and I think I’m starting to realize how homesick I am. It’s super nice and amazing here but if I’m honest, I kind of miss ‘the land of the free’. That was a joke, the land of the free part, trust.”

She laughs and continues, “Anyway, the main reason I have decided to come home now is because of my brothers. If you also don’t know, I have three younger brothers, Quinn, Jack, and Luke who are professional hockey players. Quinn plays for the Vancouver Canucks and the other two play for the New Jersey Devils. I honestly have missed so much of their careers, Luke especially and I just really want to be there for the first ever ‘Hughesbowl’ I think they’re calling it.”

She wipes her eyes, trying not to let the tears fall. She looks around at her room and then back at the camera, “So, I’m flying into New York this morning, my flight leaves at 7 so I should probably get going in a little bit. But yeah, I’ll see you guys when I touch down in New York!”

Videos play of y/n getting ready for the airport, all of her luggage behind her. She navigates her way through the airport, stopping to get some food at the Starbucks and a small drink before sitting and reading her book. After the montage, she is now in a car looking a little tired but her smile is still plastered on her face.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Sunday, December 3, 2023 @ 10:21 in the morning - New York City, New York

“So as you can see, I am now in New York!” The camera pans to a girl in the driver's seat, “This is my American homie right here. Oh, it’s so weird being back, everyone still can’t walk and drive to save their lives.

“Anyway, Julia and I are heading to drop my stuff off at her place and then we’re going to go get some brunch, I think? We’ll, or I guess, I will go sightseeing. I leave for Vancouver tomorrow night so I can rest up before the shorter flight. It’s honestly, kind of fun being back home, everything is kind of like how I remembered. I might also break into Jack and Luke’s apartment to steal some Devils merch so I can wear it to the game, but yeah.”

“Do the boys know you’re going?” Julia asks, pulling into the parking lot of her apartment complex.

Y/n shakes her head, “Nobody knows except for you and Tiffany, my friend who lives in Vancouver. So that will be an additional bonus to the game. I’ve set up some things with the arena and I guess, actually, some of the team know so Brock, Petey. I think Jesper and Nico know too, we were talking a little bit earlier together when I got here. Alright, I will see you guys sometime soon!”

Another quick montage plays, Julia and y/n are out and about, going from store to store while y/n gapes at all the things she remembered about visiting Jack before she left. At one point, there was a video of her successfully sneaking into her brother's apartment and stealing one of their beanies they kept on the countertop.

The next video was of her collapsing onto a bed, “We’re home! It is now almost 10 o'clock here and I am going to get some much-needed rest. Tomorrow I think we’re going to meet up with a few more of our friends which I don’t think I’m going to vlog. Which means, I will see you all when I am headed to the airport!”

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Monday, December 4, 2023 @ 7:00 in the evening - John F Kennedy Airport

“It was already 5 and I am here at the airport,” Y/n pans the camera around before focusing it back on herself, “I am actually starting to get so nervous about this. I mean in a little over 24 hours I get to see my little brothers for the first time in almost 3 years. Wow, that is crazy to say. I ended up going out to an early dinner with some of my friends so I am definitely full for this plane ride. I am going to be landing in Vancouver around 10, basically, I’m going to be falling asleep when I get there.

“I also finished this book which will be in a different video but it was so good and I’m so glad I got to read it. I’m rambling too much, I will see you guys in Canada.”

Footage of the plane played, looking down at the ground below. In the middle of those clips, were videos of y/n either trying not to fall asleep and also her reading. Then, clips of her dragging her luggage through the airport and out the doors to find her friend's car.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Monday, December 4, 2023 @ 10:13 in the night - Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada

“Oof! It is nearing my bedtime. Also, Tiffany just mentioned to me how weird it looks that I’m coming all the way from Italy with just a suitcase and carry-on. Don’t worry, I didn’t leave my stuff in Italy. I shipped most of my things here to Vancouver because I’m planning on living with Tif over here for a while until I can afford my place. And who knows, maybe Quinn will kidnap me and force me to come live with him.

“That is completely beside the point there. I have now been in three different countries and two different continents in basically 24 hours theoretically if we look at it from completely one time zone, Pacific. I’m going to cry actually, whether that is because of exhaustion or because I get to see my brothers in less than 20 hours, I don’t know. I will see you guys tomorrow, probably somewhere close to the time I leave for Rogers Arena. Tomorrow is the day.”

The video ends with her sighing with a smile on her face, both happy and nervous for the upcoming events to happen. She went to bed that night, comfortably in another bed instead of an airplane seat once more. Tomorrow was going to be a lot and she could only hope everything went to plan.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

⟹ Tuesday, December 5, 2023 @ 6:23 in the evening - Rogers Arena

“I am now standing outside of Rogers Arena on this very cold day in Vancouver. I am really wishing I brought another coat, somehow I still have not trained my body to be adaptive in the cold.” She rolls her eyes but smiles nonetheless, “We’re going to go meet with some of the people who are helping me pull this off and if everything works out you should be seeing the video Tiffany is taking from behind me mashed with another video my friend is taking from the stands.”

『••✎••』

Y/n stands nervously in the tunnel, playing with her fingers and picking at the skin around her nails. She bounced slightly on the balls of her feet as she listened to the skating come to a halt. It was like her eyes were trained to find her family no matter where she was or where they were. As soon as everyone stopped and got into their lines, she let out a deep breath when her eyes focused on Quinn standing alongside the others.

His hair was longer, that was for sure. He looked older, more mature than the last time she had seen them. The last time she had actually talked to them was a few days prior, probably about a week ago. She had texted them a few times but other than that, she was too nervous she would accidentally slip up and tell them about her plan.

Her eyes moved and they zeroed in on Jack who was conveniently also standing next to Luke. Her eyes widened a bit when she saw Luke, he was taller, much taller than she remembered. Jack almost looked the same in her opinion, the only thing different was his hairstyle but even then, he looked like the younger brother who used to pester her when she wouldn’t make his Mac ‘n Cheese the way he wanted her to.

On the other hand, the boys were standing, looking at the ground while their feet shuffled back and forth to help keep them steady on the ice. Jack and Luke shoved each other once or twice playfully throughout the opening speeches. Quinn had a million thoughts racing through his head. This would be his first time playing against Luke on big league ice, his first time playing his brothers as captain of his team, the first time they would all be playing together in the NHL on the same ice and she wasn’t here.

He would never hate or relent his older sister for wanting to go off and study in another country, it was an amazing opportunity. He was, however, upset about everything that she had missed of his. Luke’s draft, Luke’s debut, Luke’s first goal, the start of Luke’s rookie season, Jack’s record-breaking season, him being announced captain, his first game as captain.

While Jack and Luke weren’t thinking about this, Quinn couldn’t help it. Y/n was his big sister, the person he had looked up to for his whole life, the person who took care of him when he took a big hit on the ice, the person who helped him through his first relationship, the person who made him soup when he was sick. She was practically everything to him. And it hurt that she wasn’t here.

“This isn’t something we normally do, but we figured since it was a special occasion we would make an exception.”

Everyone in the arena had practically gone quiet at the words, no one knew anything extra was happening tonight. A lot of friends looked at each other in confusion, the teams eyed one another - some knowling and some just as confused as the fans -, y/n got even more nervous as the words she had drilled into her head were spoken out loud.

“As everyone knows, this is an incredible thing happening tonight, three brothers playing against each other.” The said boys rolled their eyes once more but still had smiles on their faces, “We do know that there is one person missing however.”

Many fans of y/n who happened to be in the audience knew almost exactly what was happening at this moment. While she hadn’t hinted at coming back home, who else would they have been talking about? She was the only Hughes in question who wasn’t here.

“As she told me when she got here, she couldn’t miss another big milestone for her brothers. So after being away in Italy for 3 years, please welcome famous YouTuber and older sister of Quinn, Jack, and Luke Hughes, y/n Hughes!”

Cheers erupted as she stepped out onto the ice and she waved a little to the fans before being almost knocked to the ground by a body tackling her. Luke’s arms wrapped around his sister tightly, his head resting on hers. She smiled softly and wrapped her arms around him as well, “Hi Lukey.”

His voice was soft, “Hi.”

“When’d you get so tall?”

“I’ve always been tall, you’re just short.” He pulled away, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked at her. His eyes slightly glistened with tears before he pulled her into another hug. He murmured something at first, causing y/n to have to ask him to repeat it, “I’m really really really really really happy you’re here. I don’t think I could’ve gone another six months without you.”

She frowned and squeezed him a little tired before he ultimately pulled away and let Jack scoop her into a hug as well. Compared to Luke’s, Jack’s hug was relatively short because he was now antsy. This would be the first time in years that he would be playing in front of her and he wanted to make her proud. So when he pulled away about a minute later she looked at him confused. He only smiled at her before speaking, “I got the zoomies now.”

She threw her head back as she laughed, shaking her head at him. Her eyes moved round once more to see Quinn standing a foot or two away from her. When she opened her arms, he all but dove into them like Luke had done earlier. He, however, shed a few tears as his head buried into the shoulder. She patted his back and suddenly she realized how many eyes were actually on them. So while she wanted to continue her reunion with the three of them, she whispered something into his ear and he pulled away nodding.

She waved one more time at the fans as the applause and made her way to the stands where her parents were. Once she was even slightly near her parents, Ellen pulled her into a hug, asking her a bunch of questions about when and how she got there.

『••✎••』

After the game, y/n stood with Jim and Ellen as they waited for the boys to be done. She was in the middle of catching them up on her trip here when someone came from behind and hugged her tightly, slightly lifting her up. She squealed and turned around to hit Jack on the arm, “Hey!”

“What?” He said innocently as he threw an arm around her shoulder, “Can I not hug my sister who I haven’t seen in three years?”

“Of course you can.” She wrapped her arms around his torso and side-hugged him, “You just can’t pick me up.”

He scoffed a little, “Someone’s picky.”

“Where’s Luke and Quinn?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know. I was too excited to see you.”

At that moment, Luke and Quinn made their appearance right behind Jack and hit him over the head. Y/n rolled her eyes before hugging each of them, Quinn’s being a little longer than Luke’s. They all stared at each other once they stopped hugging and then they looked at their parents.

“Can we go get dinner?” Jack asked.

She rolled her eyes, “Only if you’re paying rich boy.”

He shrugged before walking ahead of them. Y/n looped her arms through Quinn and Luke’s, walking down the hallway out of the arena, “Ah my favorite boys.”

“I heard that!”

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 『 instagram 』

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chefkids · 3 months

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is sydcarmy over :(

No ❤️

Carmy is fucking lost and confused and avoidant, but at the end of the day he is still doing all of this for Sydney. He doesn't care about stars, he doesn't want to work in a kitchen like that. But he feels like he's forced to because he thinks it will get her a star and that's the only way she would stay. The invisible string between them is way too strong. Unless they decided to completely retcon and ignore all of season 2 which was Carmy using Claire as a Sydney insert and Sydney being clearly jealous of Claire being his girlfriend, not just that she was distracting him.

I think that they cut off before Sydney could tell him she's taking up an offer somewhere else because that is going to flip the switch on Carmy in a major way. If she leaves then what the fuck is he doing all of this for? He's going to realize how earth shattering losing Sydney is compared to losing Claire. He might be stuck in a guilt loop with Claire, but he's still going on with his life. If he loses Syd, what is he going to do with himself? He's going to have no purpose to drive him forward and no person to anchor him to reality.

I really do pray that there will be second part to Season 3 released soon base on the To be continued. There are far too many scenes that were filmed and not shown. There are some claims that they were for Season 4 but that would honestly be so ridiculously annoying and disappointing if this is really the final end product for the season. Cause nothing fucking happened!

It is so evident that there was a major change in the writers room, which I can only assume is that Joanna Calo had less of a role. There were so many character flaws and continuity errors, just overall poorly written things that I could make a whole post about.

They are doing themselves a huge fucking disservice and completely ruining the show if they choose to ignore and rewrite what happened in Season 2 for the sake of having Carmy and Claire end up together.

#the bear #sydcarmy #the bear season 3 #the bear season 4

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querenciasturniolo · 1 year

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OKAY NO, “favorite” was insanely good. If you wouldn’t mind, could you please write a part 2 for this fic? Maybe their flirting before something finally happens or maybe another car video with them already dating but no fan knows?

oops ⮕ c.s.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: swearing

summary: chris slips up, and the secret’s out

a/n: i’m so glad you liked favorite !! i changed the idea just a little bit 🤏🏻 but i hope you like it !!! 🤞🏻

{i’m not the biggest fan of this, but that’s okay. i might rewrite this at some point, but who knows 🤷🏻‍♀️}

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

part one || part two

Before you realized what was happening, Chris Sturniolo had made his way into your heart and stayed there.

The few months after the Q&A video was posted, the two of you continued keeping in touch. You talked to Nick and Matt of course, but Chris was incredibly persistent on answering quickly and asking you questions about yourself. It was only a matter of time before the two of you finally got together.

It had been almost a year since that video, and eight of those eleven months you’d been with Chris. The two of you decided early on to keep your relationship a secret from the fans, but with each video you did with them, more edits of Chris looking at you the way he did nearly blew the secret.

You thought it was funny, how he couldn’t control the way his eyes scanned over you like you were the only thing on his mind. It wasn’t just Chris, though. Nick keeping the bit of you and Chris admitting to be each other’s celebrity crush and favorite triplet in the video didn’t help things, either.

Your new single had only been out for a few weeks, and every single interview consisted of the same question.

“Fans have been speculating that your new single, Rare, is actually a love song about Youtube star, Chris Sturniolo. Is this true?”

You’d laugh and shake your head, your chest aching and your heart pounding as you said the same thing over and over again.

“I think the interpretation of music is up to the listener. If the listener wants to believe this song is about Chris, that’s okay. If they want to believe it’s just a love song I wrote for fun, that’s fine too. I personally was inspired to write about the feeling you get around someone who’s important to you.”

The interviewer would then fake laugh along with you, and thankfully change the subject. You hated lying to your fans, and just lying in general, but it was nice to have something private. You wouldn’t mind going public, persé, but you’d need to talk about it first to make sure he was on the same page.

Chris had spent the majority of his time at your apartment when you were in LA, and any time he wasn’t there, you were at their house. One of those times was right now, Nick and Matt sitting next to you on the couch and watching a show you had absolutely no interest in. Chris had his head in your lap with his eyes facing the screen, your fingers carding through his hair absentmindedly as you pretended to pay attention.

Suddenly, Chris sat up and turned to face you, his hair sticking up in different directions and his eyes wide.

“We should go live.” He suggested, Matt and Nick glancing over from where they were sitting with furrowed eyebrows.

“Why?” Matt asked, reaching for the remote and pausing the show.

Chris shrugged his shoulders and pulled his phone out, glancing at you unamused and running a hand through his hair to fix it. “Why not? We aren’t doing anything anyway.” He said, tapping the Instagram icon and sliding over to go live. He propped his phone up on the Pepsi can on the coffee table and rested his head on his hand. Comments started pouring in almost immediately, many of them about the fact that you were on the couch next to him.

After a few moments of silence, Chris glanced over at the three of you with his eyebrows raised. “Are you guys just going to sit there like bumps on a log, or are you going to join me?” He said, your eyes rolling as you scooted more into frame, Nick and Matt grumbling as they stood up and followed suit. Nick sat on your other side while Matt sat on the other side of Chris, all four of you now looking at the comments flooding in.

Y/N WHO IS RARE ABOUT?????

You chuckled and shook your head. “Rare is a song I wrote about how it feels to be around someone who makes you love yourself.” You said, your answer vague as you noticed the way Chris’ fond eyes flickered to you on the screen for a split second before going back to scanning the comments.

well that’s one way to answer a question i guess

it’s about chris confirmed

idk, the verse about someone with bright eyes like stars seems to scream chris

Nick scoffed and looked at you. “How many times have you been asked that?” He asked. You shrugged your shoulders.

“About ten thousand, but I don’t mind. It’s sweet that people want to know. It’s a happy song, they just want to know why.” You said, Nick pursing his lips and humming noncommittally before looking back to the phone.

The live went on for what seemed like ages, the four of you replying to as many comments as possible, the rapid rate of which they were coming in made it near impossible to read. After a while, Matt pulled out his phone and started scrolling through Tiktok, his volume low and his eyes flickering between his phone and the live.

“We filmed our Wednesday vlog today, it’s one of my favorites so far.” Chris said. “No hints as to what it is, but I hope you guys like it.”

Matt snorted at whatever was playing on his phone, nudging Chris’ shoulder for him to look. He did, his eyebrows furrowed and his tongue between his teeth as he watched. You and Nick continued reading the comments, laughing and responding to a few before Chris guffawed and covered his mouth with his hand at whatever Matt was showing him.

He grabbed Matt’s phone out of his hand and held it in front of your face. “Babe, look at this!” He said, all four of you freezing in place as you registered Chris’ words. Before any of you could react, comments started flying in immediately, whether they were keyboard smashes or just consistently repeated ‘I KNEW IT’s.

“End the live.” Nick mumbled, all four of you reaching for the phone at the same time and knocking it off of the table.

“Shit!” Chris shouted, scrambling for his phone and desperately jamming his thumb onto the screen to end it. It was no use—his live had crashed, and his screen was frozen on the image of all four of you staring wide-eyed at the camera seconds after Chris’ slip up, comments still pouring in at an impressive rate, each comment blurred. In a last ditch effort to fix it, he turned off his phone and dropped it into his lap.

The four of you sat there in silence, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. You finally turned your head and met Chris’ eyes, his face frozen in a wince.

“Oops?”

The silence only lasted a few more seconds before you completely lost it, hysterical, raucous laughter bubbling out of you as you clutched your stomach. The three of them joined in soon after, the four of you near tears as the reality of what just happened set in.

“How did that even happen?! We were doing so well!” You said through your laugh, Chris shaking his head and wiping at his eyes.

“I don’t even know, it just came out.” He said, the four of you finally calming down enough to catch your breath. “I mean, at least we don’t have to hide it anymore.”

You pulled out your phone and opened Instagram.

“Well, there’s only one thing left to do.” You said, Chris leaning into your shoulder as he watched you create a post. “Help me pick one.” You said, scrolling through your photos before he tapped one. You had taken it ages ago, but it was still your favorite picture the two of you had taken together.

“What should the caption be?” You asked, Chris raising his eyebrows at you and scoffing.

“What do you think?”

You rolled your eyes and typed the lyrics out, making sure to tag Chris before posting the photo and locking your phone.

“And now we wait for the uproar.” You said, Chris chuckling and pressing a kiss to your temple. Nick groaned dramatically, catching both of your attention as he pushed himself off of the couch and headed towards the kitchen.

“Oh God, if you guys are going to be all mushy now, could you at least give a warning?” He said, though you could tell he was only teasing. Your phone screen kept lighting up, notifications pouring in from Instagram.

“Well, it’s out there now, I guess. You’re stuck with me.” You said, Chris rolling his eyes as he wrapped an arm around your waist and lightly leaned his weight onto you.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

don’t keep your distance, i’m not scared

i’m not gonna fight this, baby you’re rare

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo

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b1tcht0p1a · 4 months

Text

Feelings - Monster Trio

Fem! reader, but there is more gender-neutral wording in both Luffy's and Zoro's parts. Sanji does, too, but I was thinking more feminine. Don't worry, I will be making a male! reader one eventually. Rewrite of this post!

Luffy doesn’t come off as the most intelligent or aware of a lot. He’s smarter than he lets on sometimes. He's had crushes during his childhood and is well aware of what a relationship is. But he hasn't explored anything close to a romantic. It's unimportant to him, but that doesn't mean he's never considered it. It wasn't often, but these thoughts started up more often when you came crashing into his life. Especially after he got to know you better.

He figured that he liked you but shrugged it off at first. It was a small thing, it would probably disappear at some point.

But he was wrong, he found himself talking about you. From something big you did with him and the crew or a small thing you did that he found funny.

He'll do this when he knows you're not around to hear. He's not embarrassed about what he's saying. He just doesn't want to make things uncomfortable for you.

And even after repeated attempts to get him to even hint at this crush of his, he doesn't. And you're oblivious to the whole thing.

So when he finally comes around and just admits what he feels, you're blindsided. But once thinking back on some things, you understand completely.

You were on the deck, chilling and just enjoying the sun after several days of overcast. Everyone was enjoying themselves, relaxing like yourself, or doing some activity. You're in your own world, not paying attention to anyone, when the sun's warmth suddenly disappears. Cracking open an eye reveals Luffy staring down at you and picking his nose. "Can I help you?" He shrugs his shoulders, his finger still digging in his nose. He pulls it out and inspects his finger before wiping it on his shorts. "Don't know, just kinda felt like coming over here."

"Oh, why don't you sit down?"

"Ehh, no, I'm good. Just wanted to say you're pretty and that I like you." "Oh? Thanks-" "As in, I want to date you." He walks away after that, probably to return to whatever he was doing before or to annoy Sanji for lunch. You're stunned momentarily, mind wandering as you think.

Getting over how sudden the confession was, and thinking back on how he treats you; he was obvious with his feelings.

Checking on you first after fights, even if he's pretty injured. Coming to find you and hanging around you even if you aren't doing something 'fun'. Most of the time, he'll ask a question about what you're doing before walking away. The rare times he would stay, he would simply watch. Only a question or two here or there.

He also tends to listen to you better. Like, ask him to do something for you and he'll do it. (Most of the time, occasionally he won't)

Anyways, if you approach him and talk to him about what he said, he'll repeat himself. No shame. He felt ready.

He doesn't expect you to return his sentiment but does hope that you feel the same. At the end of the day, he wants to have you in his life. Significant other or not.

Oh? You feel the same? He heard you just give him a second. The words are reaching his brain.

He's overjoyed, he's laughing and wrapping you in a hug. He's running around the ship telling everyone. He still has you held in his arms the whole time.

Zoro is very special. He knows things, but fuck is he emotionally constipated. He tolerates you more than the others, aside from Luffy. He's capable of showing and experiencing emotions; he's not as stoic as people think. But he doesn't like expressing things that might make him seem weak. He hates crying; he hates romantic feelings. Even though he tolerates you, he dislikes being around you because you make him feel weak. He can't have that.

When he first realized his little crush on you; he started to push you away.

Only to stop doing this because it made him feel worse for pushing you away.

His crush is obvious by the way. He'll do things for you that he wouldn't do the others. And also if you get him talking about you, he has a lot of things to say. All good, promise.

He likes to hover a lot when out on an island. He says he doesn't but he is. He also manages not to get lost while with you. Which is strange.

Please don't talk to him about his feelings. He will get mad and walk away. Let him do it himself, and act surprised.

You just returned from a little shopping trip on the most recent island. Everyone went out, getting much-needed supplies but also some more indulgent things. You went off to shop, wanting to see what this island had to offer. Zoro, of course, had followed you. Standing right behind you, arms crossed and looking more like a bodyguard than anything. It's intimidating and some vendors seemed too eager to sell you things. Even at a high discount. Sure, it's nice not having to spend a bunch of money on something you really like, but the feeling of being rushed makes it hard to comfortably buy things. But overall, your trip was successful, and Zoro was 'begrudgingly' carrying it back to the ship for you. It was silent as you walked back to the ship. You had decided to take a scenic route back to the docks. Enjoying the vibrant colors of the town. It gave a perfect opportunity to speak to Zoro alone. You had been aware of his feelings and returned them. You had wanted to talk to him about it. Thinking it was best to do it away from the other, you waited to get him alone. The island stop provided a good moment. So when the docks came into view, you stopped walking. So did Zoro, though he was confused as to why you stopped.

"The ship is right there, why'd you stop?"

"I want to ask you something..."

"Okay? Why'd you stop, though?" You sigh deeply. You have to take your next steps carefully. Zoro is special. Being blunt felt right.

"Everyone keeps saying you have a crush on me. Yes or no?" He drops everything in his arms and stares at you blankly. Then you see it, he becomes flustered.

"You’re an idiot. What the hell makes you think that?" He stomps off before you can even answer. You had to carry everything back.

He ignores you for the rest of the day. Refusing to even glance at you during dinner.

He’s still visibly flushed btw.

He will come around later either that night or the next day. Begrudgingly apologizing of course.

He’s honestly expecting to get turned down so he starts talking as if you don’t like him back.

Dumbfounded when that’s not the case. Smiles at you before it quickly drops.

The others only know because you told them. There’s not much of a difference between dating and friendship. Just more affection.

Sanji, despite being the emotional person he is, doesn’t know how he really feels. He loves women. Which makes it hard to discern genuine thoughts from his perverted thoughts. And at first, that's what it very much seems like. A man with a little too much to say about feminine individuals. He understands that he finds you attractive, but there's something else there. This tight feeling in his chest makes it feel like he can't breathe. He's scared.

He's not as confident serving you as he is with Robin or Nami. He needs everything 100% perfect.

Because of these feelings, he tends to cook meals that he knows will please or thinks will please you. He lives for your praise.

He'd say things like "I love you..." or "Marry me...". Anything that he also says to Robin or Nami. It's less tossed out as it is with them.

Despite his typical nature, he can converse with women or feminine people in general without being his usual self. So he'd ask for help; it's new, and he wants to address it as soon as possible.

He is a lot softer leading up to his confession. More genuine smiles and compliments. Like small things. He's observant.

'Did you do something new? You look lovely today!' 'Wow! Those colors really make your eyes pop.'

Sanji had been acting strange the past few days. His normal pervertedness had mellowed into something actually sweet. He wasn't as tense, and he spoke softer than he would Robin or Nami. When he wasn't cooking or catering to people's needs, he often sat with you. Talking about interests, hobbies, anything about you. It was late, way after dinner. Everyone was off getting ready for bed. Other than you and Sanji. All his cleaning was done, thanks to your help. Now, you're both sat at the head of the boat. Both staring into the water, talking about random things. Surprisingly, the topic turned to the future and love. He's standing close, his face soft as he speaks. "I fear that my normal behavior might have ruined my chances." "Well, if it's anything, you've made leaps and bounds with that shit since. At least towards me." Sanji hesitates momentarily, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing it into the wind. He turns so he faces you. "Yeah, because it's you." The world has never been clearer.

Just pretend you are blind pls. He was so obvious with it that he thought you knew. But realized you didn't when yall would talk.

He almost walks off after saying that but waits.

Crys when you share the same sentiment.

Gladly tells everyone over dinner. Only for Zoro to say some dumb shit.

Nami and Robin are very happy for you, though. They were tired of Sanji's whining to them.

As stated above, this is a rewrite of this post. Do not plagiarize or reupload my content to any other site or blog.

Luffy 574 Zoro 606 Sanji 468

#one piece #one piece headcanons #headcanon #luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #x reader #one piece x reader

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shiny-jr · 2 years

Text

☀ damnation [ the hyena chieftain ]

– Summary: When you commit a crime, you receive a punishment. This is especially true in your society. No matter the crime, your punishment is the same: banishment. But to where you will be sent in exile and how miserable will it be? No one knows, because no one has ever returned.

– Warning: Yes, this is a yandere thing. Gender-neutral reader.

– Characters: Jack Howl, Ruggie Bucchi, Leona Kingscholar.

– Note: Not much to say right now, just a continuation of transferring the results from the quiz onto here so people can read. Like last time, if you haven’t taken the quiz, please try it! I worked a lot on it. As for now, I’m working on the next batch of results (Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, and Diasomnia). Scarabia is a current work in progress, had to rewrite part of it because I didn’t like it.

– Pages: 42

– Not satisfied? Try looking here for the quiz to take it yourself and see where you end up banished!

The King of Hearts | The Hyena Chieftain | The Diviner

Wrapped. You were partially wrapped in a thin cool cloth. It was hot, and whatever you woke up on was uncomfortable but was much better than the hard cold benches of the jail. Everything came rushing back in an instant, your crimes, those scowling judges, and the portal that led to your punishment— You were here, the place where you’d live the rest of your life in exile.

Looking around, you thought to yourself, it could be a lot worse. It appeared that you were in some type of room, or a small house, or rather— a cave. The low ceilings were uneven, rocky, reflective and shiny with dew. The hard cold floor was uneven, and looking down, you could see that you lay atop a dirty old mattress with no bed frame. The mattress was just on the floor, there were even a couple of springs cutting through the corners. Thankfully there was light thanks to an old broken lamp in the corner, lit by a flame instead of electricity. The few shelves on the wall were stock full of pots and pans and silverware, and just a few feet away there was a small stone stove. Looks like you ended up in someone’s house. But who’s? And why?

As you jumped up on your feet, you realized that the cloth you were swaddled in was not a blanket for this bed, but a gray wrap that stretched from your left shoulder to the right side of your hip, the cloth held in place by a thin belt around your waist. Attached to the belt was a scabbard, and inside was a curved dagger you curiously examined in the palms of your hands, covered in long fingerless brown gloves. This knife might be useful to keep on you. You never know when things might get dangerous. Tucking the weapon back in its place, you returned your attention to the rest of your outfit. Underneath your wrap, you wore an extremely loose fitted sleeveless brown tunic that could just barely be seen, with matching cargo pants and worn boots.

“Hey, boss! Guess who got a great haul?”

Surprised by the sudden voice, you looked up only to see a short guy barreling into the room, past the curtains that served as a barrier, with an armful of goods. You weren’t too focused on whatever he was carrying, you were distracted by something else attached to his head and lower back. Ears, and a tail. The guy had fluffy but messy brown hair that faded into a sandy blonde, his semi-round ears were brown and his short tail matched his hair color. Were those the characteristics of a dog or a cat…? More important, why had he called you boss?

His downturned eyes, gray in color, peered up at you as he dropped all of his goodies on the mattress you were just asleep on moments ago. Flashing a proud grin, he rummaged through the pile as he explained, “Bunch of tourists from afar were on their way to the kingdom. Lucky for us, they took a wrong turn and ended up on our land. I mean, look at all this cheddar! Coins, jewelry, clothes, oh, and check it out–– rations! There’s a bunch more where this came from. And don’t worry, we split up all the stuff like you told us.”

As he sorted through the various objects, you pried your eyes away from his animal features and noticed his gloves were torn, old and rugged from what must’ve been countless times being worn. In the spots that were torn through, his hands looked rough and damaged from work. Curiously you stepped closer, scanning the pile, “There’s no gloves…?”

“Nah, I went through everything before we split it and sent them to the different ends with the guys to hand out.” Tossing aside some cans, he inquired, “Why? You lookin’ for some?” Actually, now that you were looking at him, you realized most if not all of his clothes were most likely stolen. The white cotton tunic was browning with age and was several sizes too big on his thin form, the large gray pants he wore were held up by a belt similar to yours that held a knife, and he had a dark brown shawl long enough to wrap around his shoulders and extend down his sides.

You still weren’t entirely sure what was going on, but as you looked down at your hands, it became evident that this guy needed these accessories more than you did. Peeling off the long brown gloves from your palms, you outstretched your hands and watched as he hesitantly, confusedly, placed his palms against your own. Removing his old gloves, you replaced them with your own. They matched his shawl. “If you don’t want to throw away your old ones, then save the material to make something else.”

“Really? For me? Seriously, you’re always giving me your things…” Eyeing the new gloves on his hands, he tugged on the material, seemingly content with the new pair. Raising an eyebrow, he eyed you suspiciously, “Spit it out, what job do you want me to do?”

Job? Right, so it seemed like this guy thought you were his boss and he was the subordinate. But it wasn’t just an ordinary gig being run here. Based on what he said before, these people stole if not for a living, then probably very often. And it was a large number of thieves that included himself, and you were their leader…? This was getting too confusing. “Look, I think you’re getting things wrong.” Clear things up now. “I’m not––”

“Is bringin’ ya the news good enough to pay you back? Because I heard a lot of it from those tourists and from locals in the pride lands. Come on, let’s walk while we talk.” Gesturing you to follow, you hesitantly did, and what you saw outside surprised you.

It was the slums. The little house you had been in, was inside of a huge cave system that housed multiple other rooms and even rooms outside in the sun. The environment was rocky, hot, and barren, but there were still countless people about. People like this guy, with fur-covered ears and tails, in rags and worn clothing. Clothes were being washed in huge bins by groups and hung to dry on lines, there was another group over fires cooking bits of food and collecting cans, and various other jobs being done. However, what caught you off guard, was that each person smiled at you and greeted you merrily, calling you boss, as if they had known you for years. Then, they also greeted the guy beside you. Ruggie, they called him.

“So here’s the deal, it’s not looking good on food for the week. We scavenged and sent some fishermen to the far end of the river, we even got some more people than usual at the markets in the kingdom making the usual food runs. But with King Falena making random rounds with his soldiers, we’re risking the chance of our guys getting caught.” Rolling his eyes at the mention of this king, Ruggie scoffed, muttering in annoyance, “Falena’s a dad now, why can’t he just go waste his time playing dear old daddy for that dumb little spoiled brat of his?! That’d make things so much easier for us, you know?”

A king and a land of hungry… Why did this seem familiar? You looked back at the guy beside you and his animal ears and tail. Almost everyone else here had similar appendages. What animal were they…?

“Oh, and before I forget, that Prince Leona was skulking around the borderlands again. Says he wants to talk to you, told me to tell you that myself. Gave a time and everything, talk about conceited.” Annoyed at the memory, he folded his arms behind his head and huffed, “You know, I kinda hate that guy. He’s always trying to boss me around, as if I work for him. Lions, am I right?”

A lion…? A lion prince, and an impoverished community… That… That sounded like the story of the Lion King. A story you used to read a lot when you were a kid. It was about a powerful and majestic lion that ruled over the savanna, and eventually his queen had a son who became heir and next in line for the throne. However, the majestic king had a prince brother who desired the throne more than anything. So, in secret the second prince met with the frowned upon hyenas that lived in the outskirts of the kingdom where there was little food and little water. The second prince befriended the hyenas and with the promise of being allowed into the land of plenty, plotted to overthrow his brother with the help of the hyenas. His plan succeeded, partially, as he murdered his elder brother but his prince nephew escaped. Only years later, after a short harsh rein under the cruel second prince, did the young prince return, now grown. The young prince took back the throne after a duel, and the second prince fell to his demise as the very hyenas he allied himself with, turned against him when the second prince attempted to blame them for the entire ordeal.

“Rightttt…” You responded quietly, not really paying that much attention to him because you were currently trying to piece together what you knew and what was going on. “... What time did he give you?”

“Who? The prince?” Ruggie stopped to look up at the sun, analyzing the angle of the light and length of the shadows with the position of the sun. Slowly he shrugged, “I’d say in ‘bout… few minutes actually. You’re not actually thinking of going, are you?”

The prince… This was a possible lead to… well, something, wasn’t it? Nodding to yourself, you answered confidently, “Yeah, I am, actually. Lead the way, will you?”

A sigh escaped past his lips as his shoulders sagged and he shoved his hands into his pockets. It seemed he was considering it, like he even wanted to say no, but finally he relented and threw up his hands. “You wanna see that stuck-up guy? Go for it. You’re the boss, you know what you’re doing.”

Yeah, you totally don’t know what you’re doing at all. Going with the gut feeling at the moment, and apparently your gut thought you should meet this prince, whoever he was. So you followed Ruggie as he obediently led the way through the dirt streets.

So wait, did that mean that this Ruggie guy and the rest of those people in the community were supposed to be the hyenas? Glancing at his animal characteristics, you could totally see it now. The fluffy ears and the short tail with brown or black colors, they were definitely the frowned upon hyenas of the story. Which meant that the majestic king was King Falena who Ruggie beside you off-handedly mentioned earlier, and his son was the kid prince that would one day rule the land after the tragedy. And finally, the villain of the story, the cruel and calculating second prince, brother of the majestic king… was this Prince Leona that wanted to meet you.

If you got all that right, then one of those outlandish rumors about where prisoners were banished to, was actually right! What a weird punishment, to be transported to the animal equivalent of Hamlet. At least they weren’t actually animals, just people with animal traits?

Now, considering all that, the rumors and information you had so far, what role did you play? It was obvious that the hyena folk didn’t see you as just some random human stranger that popped out of the sky and fell onto their land. No, they held you in high regard, like a person in power, despite not having their animal traits and you not knowing a single one of them. There was this one rumor your crazy aunt used to rave on and on about whenever a trial was broadcasted. Now it made sense as to the reason she always read you bedtime stories about good guys and bad guys, was precisely because she firmly believed that theory she always talked about. She truly believed that criminals would somehow end up in fantasy tales, and die in those tales. Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all. She actually had it right on the money. Wait—

Did that mean you were going to die here? Nervously you looked over at Ruggie, who seemed completely content with walking in silence, as he led you through dry rugged lands of cliffs and stone.

As you walked beside him, careful of where you stepped, you replayed the whole story in your mind. You were with the hyenas, they called you boss, so were you… the hyena clan leader? The clan leader was respected by the rest of the hyenas, she called the shots, and dealt directly with the second prince when negotiating. It was also her who overheard the second prince betraying them when confronted by the kid prince after he returned. Then, she and the rest of her kin, attacked and killed the royal that betrayed them. Queen shit, but what happened to her after? It never clarified, since the story revolved around the kid prince and how he restored the savanna to its former glory once he reclaimed the throne. If you had to guess, she and the rest of the hyenas were probably forced into the outskirts once again, where there were little resources to live off of. There was no immediate death for her, no violence that ended her life, but she was surrounded by poverty, starvation, and lack of water until the day she died. That was still a horrible way to die…

The ending never sat particularly right with you as a kid. Surely all the hyenas weren’t bad, so why were they all driven away while all the lions got to live in the land of milk and honey? It didn’t make much sense, considering the main villain was a selfish lion too. You for one, did not want to settle with the destined ending already set in place.

If we’re going according to the plot, then this must be when the second prince initiates first contact with the hyenas and begins to gain their trust to use in the plotted coup against his elder brother. As you got near the top of a few cliffs, on one side were the slums you just emerged from, and on the other side was vast greenery as far as the eye could see with a large colorful vibrant city. Two completely different worlds, separated just by cliffs.

From your spot this high up, you could see various animal-like folk. Yet the most common had golden ears and a shiny mane, wearing just as shiny gold and jewels with fabulous garbs, living in huge houses no-doubt furnished entirely with fine objects and appliances. In a way, the huge gap between the rich and the poor reminded you of home, and not in a good way. You scowled at the abundance these lion-folk had, while thinking of the misery the hyena folk lived in. It really was no wonder that the hyena clan leader had willingly helped in a coup, if it meant her people would finally get a piece of the wealth. The scowl grew on your lips as you spat, “Eat the rich.”

“Hear, hear!” Ruggie threw his head back and laughed, but it was a sort of desolate laugh, not one of happiness. And it was obvious as to why it came out like that as he eyed the bountiful city down below. “If it weren’t for them, you’d be the ruler of this land, you know. Doesn’t that seem great? Getting to live life without worrying when your next meal will be or if there’s even enough water to drink?”

Resuming your trek behind Ruggie, you slowly nodded along to his words. “Yeah, that sounds like a dream to be honest…” But the hyenas eventually succeeded in becoming part of the savanna. However, it doesn’t last long before the savanna becomes a desolate wasteland. Perhaps it couldn’t support both the lions and hyenas, but stories liked to claim that the hyenas just consumed far too much due to their greed. If things did go according to the story, then you would have to find a way to prevent the land from becoming barren and lifeless.

Just as you reached the top of the cliff, you and Ruggie roamed the high grounds until you spotted something. Or rather, someone.

They were a towering figure, if you had to describe them, he looked like the most intimidating bouncer to stand at the entrance to the most exclusive club. Perfectly fitting the body-guard type, he must’ve been security for the second prince. He looked to be on the younger side but he had to be over six feet tall, and with a muscular build like that, you feared that he’d easily be able to take on both you and Ruggie if things went south.

His attire was unlike yours, it was dark brown thick fabric with colorful orange and red vibrant patterns over his torso, that were mostly concealed by bronze and gold plates over his shoulders and chest. And in his hands, he held a long sharpened spear. Yup, definitely a guard. It became obvious that he noticed you, because his golden-brown eyes became laser focused on you and your companion. His ears–– among his wild mess of white hair that contrasted against the healthy bronze glow of his skin, were white pointed wolf-like ears, standing upright in attention. That’s when you noticed his long bushy tail too.

Yeah, that’s a white wolf, but there were no white wolves in the story…? Additionally, he looked nothing like Ruggie, who was short with his brown and blonde hair and beige skin, that easily allowed him to blend in with the rocky environment. Were you wrong? Was this not a story?

The wolf guy eyed you and Ruggie with suspicion before stamping the dull end of his spear against the ground and barked, “The prince approaches! His highness wants–– er… is requesting an audience with… you.” He pointed at you with his spear.

Inexperienced. You were right, the guard was young and he doubted himself with that last line. You exchanged glances with Ruggie, who must’ve been thinking the same thing as you, because he covered his mouth and whispered,

“Newbie. Fresh meat.”

You cracked a bit at that last bit, a very short and brief laugh nearly escaping your lips, to which Ruggie only grinned at before lowering his hand. The guard did not seem to appreciate the laughter in response, because his ears flattened back a bit and his frown deepened in embarrassment as he chastised, “I heard that! You disrespectful–– If you have dignity, you would respect the prince!”

“Why should I? He’s a lion, he’s definitely not my prince.” Crossing his arms, Ruggie took amusement in the wolf’s annoyance. So he continued cockily, “Yeah, we know who he is. He’s just like all those other lions, lazy, arrogant, you name it.”

The guard looked like he wanted to retaliate, but you weren’t sure if he wanted to go about it physically or verbally as he clenched his fists and gritted his sharp canines. You sent a look over at Ruggie to which he zipped his lips and offered a half-assed apologetic shrug that was directed more to you than to the wolf.

Just before you could find out if this wolf would act on impulse, a figure you hadn’t even noticed appeared from the shadows of the cliff.

“Don’t let them get to you, Jack. They enjoy seeing you all flustered.”

Immediately you whipped your head towards the approaching figure, wondering how they were so quiet. How long had they been there? When he stepped out of the shadows, you were immediately blinded by the jewels and beads wrapped around his neck and wrists. Even his red agbada was decorated with golden and orange linings, highlighting his wealth even further, as if the rare accessories weren’t enough. A mane, a long brown mane just slightly darker than his cool umber tone, was nearly enough to hide his own animal traits. Almost. You could make out the shape of large cat-like ears and a long thin tail that hung limply. A lion. This could only be Prince Leona, the second prince.

Turning his predatory green-eyed gaze over to you and your companion, he faked mock dejection before an amused type of grin appeared on his tired face. “We lions can’t be that bad. Try not to lump me in with them.”

You stood a distance away with Ruggie, carefully eyeing the prince. Right over his left eye, was a lengthy scar. At the moment he seemed… alright, but if you were right about this world’s events following the plot of the story, then this prince was to be feared. The second prince was cunning, calculating, and cruel. Very nearly did he succeed in everything. He murdered his elder brother, he completed the coup, he won over the hyenas, he became king. The only thing that went astray in his near-perfect plan, was the escape of his nephew that allowed the cub to grow and eventually become strong enough to regain the throne. That was the second prince’s one mistake that led to his demise. Slowly, albeit unsurely, you nodded your head in acknowledgement of his presence.

“Chief.” Leona nodded back regally, his curved charming smile keeping you on your toes. “I’m surprised you accepted the invitation. I didn’t think you would come. I thought maybe you’d send your little lapdog for you.”

Glancing at Ruggie, you noted his irritated frown, but the comment didn’t appear to dig into him too much. You’d have to choose your words carefully. Afterall, this was a prince you were dealing with. These were practically diplomatic issues, one misstep could bring trouble. But, luckily, you knew how things would go, and you had a rough idea of how the second prince would react according to the story’s plot. Even if things did go astray, not everyone would jump to defend the second prince. It’s said he was disliked by nearly everyone in his home kingdom.

Turning your attention back to the said royal, you responded calmly with an even smile, “I thought maybe the prince would have better manners and better brains than to just openly offend one of my own. Do you know what we do to royalty that step out of their kingdom?”

Once those words left your mouth, Jack bared his teeth and pointed his spear at you, bending his knees and shifting into a fighting stance.

However, Leona’s amusement at your retort quickly faded as he appeared unimpressed at his guard’s action. “Easy, boy. Relax.” Once the wolf begrudgingly lowered his spear and resumed his standing position, the prince shrugged, “It’s true, it’s not much of an invitation from me since we are still on your land. Forgive my impertinence, won’t you, chief? Where are my manners? I shall practice my curtsy next time I greet the ruler of the hyenas.”

At his sarcasm and dramatic curtsey, you gave a quick chortle. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, you know.”

“I realize that, which is why I’ve come with an offering.” Leona snapped his fingers, gesturing to his bodyguard.

You hadn’t even noticed but Jack was carrying a bulky knapsack which he removed off his back at the sound of the prince’s snap. Zipping it open, he dumped all the contents of the bag onto the space between himself and the royal. Shaking it to make sure it was empty, he then tossed the bag aside, leaving a sizable pile of canned rations and packed goods. The metals and reflective packaging shone in the sun, tempting the hyena beside you.

Holding out your arm, you stopped Ruggie from jumping into the pile of food, shaking your head at his hands itching to snatch up every single object he could carry. This was it, you realized. This was how he befriended the hyenas and earned their trust. He bore gifts they desperately needed in the name of good-will, and only later did he reveal his plot that required their assistance. It wasn’t a friendship, it was something akin to a treaty. A treaty that would one day be torn to shreds the moment he betrays the hyena-folk. When you looked up, everyone was watching you, waiting to see what you would do. It felt as if the lion was patiently biding his time until you fell into his trap.

The plot was moving forward. Leona needed the hyenas, he couldn’t complete the coup all on his own. So either way, with or without your approval, he would win the majority of the hyena-folk by his false good-will. You could reveal to Ruggie and the others that you weren’t who they thought you were, but that didn’t work before. Even if it did work this time, what then? Would they turn on you? Would they accept you but lower your standing in the ranks? Or would you be banished, die stranded in a hot desert where the vultures would peck at your remains? There was that option, or… you could stay and play the role of chieftain of the clan. Then, with your knowledge of the story, you could alter the course of the future, get rid of the kid prince and keep the kingdom from declining once the hyenas arrived, and live the rest of your life in the beautiful land of plenty. To be honest, that last option sounded way better than the first.

Clearing your throat, you began, “I see what you’re doing here, Prince Leona. Offering food with a smile, waiting for us to eat out of your hand like obedient mutts so you can save us in your backpocket for something… devious. I respect that.” Focusing your gaze on the surprised prince, you once again flashed another smile before nodding to Ruggie, to which the hyena immediately dove forward to claim the offering. “But if you want our trust, or are trying to fool us, it’s going to take a lot more than that.”

In an instant, Ruggie had shoved every single ration and good back into the sack. Once done, he threw it over his shoulder and merrily gave a salute, jogging backwards until he was right back at your side. “Pleasure doing business!”

“Distribute that when we get back.” You murmured to the hyena, then averting your attention back to the important matter at hand. The prince. Giving him a thankful nod, you began to take your leave, following after your energetic companion, but not without bidding your goodbye, “Prince Leona, and Jack, was it? I look forward to next time. And next time, try not to underestimate us.”

At your words, Leona merely scoffed, his smile gone as he warned slowly, “Oh no, perhaps you shouldn’t underestimate me. But for now… Be well, little chieftain.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

By the second visit, a week had passed.

In that week, you had begun to get a feel for what this role you took over required. It may have seemed like an attractive role, to be a clan leader beloved by many, but it was tiring and grueling work. It required hard labor, there wasn’t a moment you weren’t busy either with tasks directly for the clan or by solving disputes within the community. Directing the groups of expert pick-pockets and looters to areas of the prosperous kingdom where King Falena was least likely to appear on his rounds, assisting in separating and handing out the stolen goods when the group returned, collecting foraged foods to cook with a group designated to prepare meals with the little they had, that was only a small list of responsibilities you had somehow managed to successfully deal with since arriving. The meals you had were not full course ones, but it was just enough to get by on, but not enough to keep you full since you’d wake up every morning with an aching hunger.

As you climbed up the cliff to the meeting spot designated by the prince who once again sent word through Ruggie, you were followed by said hyena. The guy was really a huge help around here, it was no wonder that everyone in town loved him, even if he was conniving, he only really ever plotted against the lion-folk.

In your head, you went over the story for the umpteenth time. You couldn’t remember any other specific reason the second prince would visit again unless he was trying to further build the foundation of trust. To be honest, you had been so busy trying to complete your work and blend in the past few days, that you had forgotten about the prince for a while. Until now that is. When you arrived at the meeting spot, Jack and Prince Leona were already there waiting.

As soon as the lion’s green gaze landed on you, a smile appeared on his face. You didn’t like his smile. It was the type of smile that felt like it was hiding something, it felt like more of a grin or a smirk. But perhaps that’s just the way he smiled. “Why, if it isn’t the chieftain descending from on high to meet me? Or shall I say, ascending from down low.” His gaze flickered to the run-down abodes down below.

“Haha, uh-huh, watch it, Prince.” You raised your gaze to meet his, having to look up at him as he casually strolled past you. Getting close enough that you worried he might try something. “Let’s speak privately. You seemed to doubt my sincerity last time, so let me try again. Jack.” Turning to face his personal guard that approached when summoned, Leona gestured to the wolf and continued, “Take him. You have him for one week. Use him as you like. Through intense labor, guarding, whatever. He’ll serve you well, just try not to use him for your little thieving parties. If caught, I’d rather not have to explain to the court why my own guard was working hand-in-hand with you hyenas, stealing from citizens of the kingdom. He’s a good guard, comes from the northern continent, new and naive but he has enough strength to overpower some of my brother’s own guards. But I laid claim to him before Falena could.”

You eyed the muscular guard up and down, looking at Ruggie who appeared just as caught off guard as you were. When your companion met your gaze, he shrugged, looking uncertain. Turning your attention back to the guard, you crossed your arms and inquired, “And what’s your say on this, big guy? You’re really okay being left here for a week in this wasteland?”

Those big pointed ears of his perked up as he peered down at you, looking the tiniest bit astonished that you would even ask his opinion on this matter. Actually, you were a little offended, because you could clearly tell he was surprised.

“I’m not gonna take you if you don’t want to come. Please, I am not as savage as your royal master here.”

That slight smirk on Leona’s face and lack of denial spoke volumes.

Jack nodded, hesitantly bowing his head in respect as he answered, “I’d be honored to be part of any deal to mend relationships between the hyena-folk and the rest of the kingdom.”

Ah. Now it all made sense. That’s how Leona was painting it out to be to his loyal guard. In reality, what Jack said wasn’t that far from the truth. Hyenas would become part of the kingdom, but probably in not the manner he expected it to happen.

“Well, that settles it, doesn’t it, chieftain?”

“I guess it does.” Shifting your attention from Leona and with one more glance at Jack, you resisted the urge to laugh at the wolf’s slowly wagging tail and determined expression. Poor guy really thought he was going to make a meaningful difference, when he was all just a pawn in the prince’s plot… “Ruggie, take Jack down to the town and show him the ropes. Give him a job that won’t get us in trouble with the king.”

Your subordinate side-eyed the guest who was looking at him expectantly, before frowning and finally waving at him to follow. “C’mon, let’s get outta here and let them talk boring politics. I’ll show you around then tell you where you’ll be working the rest of the day.”

You watched the two take their leave and head back down to the town, ignoring the way Leona purposefully stepped closer. So close that his thick locks nearly brushed against your nose when he turned to walk away. “As he said, let’s talk politics.” You watched as he sat on a large rock conveniently placed under the shade of the higher cliffs, and he gestured for you to do the same. So you sat across from him on another rock, and continued with your inquiry, “Why are you so incessant on gaining our trust?”

“Hm, I wonder…” He hummed, pulling out a bag that was hidden behind the very rock he sat on. Without any explanation as to what was inside, he dropped it at your feet. You had a decent guess as to what it was. Supplies. “Here you are. Now, I’ll be taking my leave––”

Watching him get up, you remained seated and merely murmured, “If you won’t answer me, you won’t receive my trust. Trust is a two way street, you know? So if you tell me what it is you want, we might actually make progress today instead of just ending at another standstill.” When he stood still, you murmured with a confident smile, “You want the throne, don’t you?”

Those tired green eyes carefully studied you before he grinned with equal confidence and muttered, “You aren’t the real chieftain, are you?” You slipped up and froze, your expression dropping, and that’s when he knew he had you. “The real chieftain wouldn’t take the initiative to extend conversation with me, or have the confidence to tease. And yet, the hyenas appear to treat you the same. I wonder if they have realized, hm?”

A standstill once again. You felt your throat dry, uncertain how to respond. He had you, but you had him. If you revealed his secret, then he could be banished from his homeland or worse, and he’d never ever get to sit on the throne. If he revealed your secret, you may be a goner, there was still that slim chance that the hyenas would turn on you. When he didn’t sit down, you gulped and hesitantly tried, “Your brother… what would he say?”

“You would tell him? Oh, how the thought of my big brother knowing makes me quiver with fear.” He mockingly hissed, chuckling at the end. “Falena knows I wish to be king, he just cannot comprehend the things I would do to attain the crown. Even if you could reach him, why would he have any reason to believe the word of a lowly being from the hyena clan? Is it not as you said? Trust is a two-way street.” A smirk curled on his lips, revealing his unnaturally sharp canines. “Let’s establish a bit of trust between us, little chieftain. You must know, I mean no disrespect. I have a certain… respectfor those that try so hard to be on par with me.”

You watched him carefully, feeling your nerves rise until he slowly sat back down. Only then could you breathe a sigh of relief, but you didn’t, because you had to keep your guard up around him. You couldn’t allow another little thing to slip, and give him the upperhand. Meeting his tired green eyes that never once strayed away from your form, you admitted, “I just want to survive.”

For a moment, he was quiet, looking you up and down, analyzing you as he slowly leaned against the larger stone behind him where he rested one arm. “Life's not fair, is it, my deceitful friend? I’d gamble and say wherever you’ve come from, whatever your circumstances, they were not much better than they are now, are they?”

The trial and your banishment immediately came to mind once his words reached your ears. You averted your gaze downward and frowned as you thought of how cruelly you were tossed out of the community, how they did not care what would happen to you now. And then there was everything beforehand, your personal grapples and struggles with the rigid rules of that society. It left a bitter taste on your tongue. Somehow, it's as if Leona sensed your anger and hate boiling inside. It might actually be similar to himself, perhaps that’s why he one day snapped and decided that what he desired most far outweighed the lives of those few who loved him.

At your silence, he continued, “While some are born to feast, others spend their lives in the dark, begging for scraps. The way I see it… you and I, are exactly the same. We both want to find a way out, and that way is through what my brother has.”

Your eyes shifted back up to his neutral expression. You knew what was coming. But, you were curious, “Why confide in us? Why not just challenge the king in the duel? You do have that right, since you're from royal blood just like him. Ritual combat is the easy way out, isn’t it?” You already partially knew of the answer to this, but maybe now, under these changed and special circumstances, he would give up more information.

At that, he scoffed, appearing irritated as he replied, “You think facing Falena is the easy way out? Tsk. I’d call you a fool, but you clearly aren’t that. Just ignorant at times. I wouldn’t dream of challenging him again.” Leaning forward, he folded his hands together, and then his mood began to change. That vexed frown began to steadily shift into an eager grin, an ominous one that showed hunger. Not a gluttonous hunger for food or drink or anything of that sort, it was a hunger for power, and the second prince was starved of it. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the mighty strength his royal highness has. But, I do have something he does not best me in: brains.”

There it is. The proposal. This was it.

Leona turned his head to the horizon, noting the direction of the sun that was beginning to fall, day was turning to night. Gazing at the colorful sky with you silently observing as you remained in his company. “I believe I should be going.”

What? You watched incredulously as Leona stood from his seat and stretched his arms over his head, opening his jaw to let out a big old yawn. What lax behavior for a prince. And what was his deal? Cutting things off when things were just getting good! You felt like you just watched the most anticipated episode of a soap opera only for it to end on a cliffhanger at the huge climax, but also… it felt like he finally moved the knife away from your throat, metaphorically speaking. It felt like he was doing this on purpose, so his words would haunt you until the day he returned. “That’s it?”

Noting your frown, the prince gave a lazy grin as his arms swung back against his sides. “Don’t be too depressed. I’ll be back in a few days for my guard, and to continue these talks with you. And I won’t hold your little secret over your head, as long as you don’t hold mine against me. I have a very interesting proposition that you and your kin will love, one I’m sure we can all agree to without the use of our secrets. But until next time, consider to what lengths you’d go for yourself… and your clan, of course.” Nodding his head to you in acknowledgment, he turned away and began his trek back home, but not before leaving you with these thoughts weighing heavy on your head, well over an armful of supplies to carry home, and those familiar parting words, “Be well, little chieftain.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Over the next few days, not only had Leona’s words truly haunted you and prevented you from getting sleep at night, but you also had to keep watch over the wolf on top of your usual duties.

But surprisingly, Jack fit in just fine. You weren’t sure what to expect from the guy in the first place, considering he was pretty out of place in this setting and you still had no idea what role he played in the original tale. Yet somehow, he seemed to fit right in, swiftly handling chores that would usually take multiple people hours long to complete, getting along with the village children running about and mischievously attempting to trip him up, and beginning to look up to the conniving Ruggie. Everyone was incredibly weary that a palace guard was among the community, some even questioned your decision, but when he showed he was useful, he was gladly accepted. Most even thought he was humble and pretty amusing for such a tough guy to be so dedicated to following your right-hand hyena.

Speaking of following… You had caught the wolf stalking you on multiple occasions, but never outright admitting he was tailing after you. Had you been had? Was Jack actually instructed to spy on you by that second prince? No, there was no way. Jack had rigid morals and stooping so low as to spy under the guise of a diplomatic deal to mend relations would definitely go against those morals. Although you did have to admit, it was pretty funny to see him try and sneak around to shadow you when he stuck out like a sore thumb.

One day, in the middle of his stay, you were startled to find him outside of your room, so alarmed that you mistook him for someone else with the lack of brown hyena appendages, that you nearly brought out your dagger to strike. Only for him to greet you good morning rather enthusiastically, confusing you with the change of attitude from him. It was different from what you were used to. Ruggie was fairly quiet in the mornings, he was much kinder, at least to you and those he cared for, so he’d greet you with a dopey smile and sparkle in those downturned eyes. Jack, however, was not like that. His greeting was reminiscent of that of a soldier at morning salute, not smiling but still full of energy. Then he’d only take his leave once you informed him where you would be throughout the day.

Then came the unexpected acts of service. Whenever you required assistance with a chore or had to send word out, the hyenas would listen to your commands obediently. But Jack took that to a whole other level. Whenever he had completed his tasks, he’d come to you, taking up the role of subordinate much to Ruggie’s annoyance. The only way you could get the wolf off your back and to stop him from taking over your own chores, was to give him a list of more tasks that was hopefully enough to keep him busy for the next few hours. Yet somehow despite all that, it never was enough to stop him.

At dinner time when most of the clan sat down to eat at the center of the village, he’d serve you and proudly explain that he helped hunt and gather food for the day! Just when you thought you could get away after eating, you’d be dead wrong. Because somehow, Jack would find you, and escort you home, despite your insistence that you didn’t need a personal guard to walk you home. It had only been one day, but the guy was already starting to get on your nerves. How did Leona even deal with him?

So when you were greeted by him on the final day of his stay, you decided to cut things off here.

“Look, Howl, answer me this. Why are you so insistent and respectful all of a sudden?” You crossed your arms, eyeing him warily as you continued your small interrogation. “Didn’t you nearly attack me and Ruggie the first time we met? You seemed like you hated us, so why the change? Huh?”

At your words, his ears flattened in shame and he averted his gaze down to the uneven ground, looking like a kicked puppy. “I misjudged you and your clan, I’m sorry… I’ve been trying to make it up to you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been watching you, and you’re a respectable leader, more than most give you credit for.” Did he not realize how weird that first line sounded? “I have to apologize. I fell for the rumors without knowing anything about you, and that was wrong. In the kingdom, they don’t exactly say the most… flattering things about you and the others. But they’re dead wrong!” At his sudden exclamation, your eyes widened and you stared at him as he continued his rave angrily, as if he were the one being whispered about. “You aren’t some mangy stupid rude crook! You’re fair, selfless, and diligent! And all the hyena-folk starving and living like this… they don’t deserve it!!”

“Are you done?” You frowned at his outburst, waiting until he pursed his lips together and silently nodded. His fluffy white tail hanging limply behind him. Well, he was sincere, even if everything he said wasn’t true, at least about you. You weren’t all those good things he said, you were just doing this to survive, to save and later improve your own life. However, if accepting his apology meant you would finally get some breathing room, then you had no choice but to accept. “It’s alright. You’re forgiven. Besides, complaining isn’t going to help us in any way. If that weren’t the case, you’d hear me complaining all the time.”

Jack remained quiet, slowly nodding, “You’re right… Which is why I’m going to help for as long as I can!” He what…?Looking even more determined than before, he gazed down at you and confided, “You’ll be striking up a deal with my boss, won’t you, chieftain? Now I know why he’s so incessant on sending rations every once in a while! And the king… he wouldn’t approve so that’s why he’s gotta do it in secret!”

Yeah, no, Leona was most definitely not sending supplies out of the pure goodwill of his heart.

“I want to stay here with you, and help out as much as I can! Until people won’t go hungry anymore!”

“Uh-huh…” You muttered, noticing his slowly wagging tail. He was getting way too worked up over this. “Don’t you know, if the king heard you say all that stuff, then you’d be a traitor? Hyenas and lions are sworn enemies. You’d lose everything. The only reason you’re currently not labeled as a traitor by the state, is because your boss has you here in secret.”

“I know… but Leona wants to help you guys out too, doesn’t he?”

The answer to that was… debatable. “Sure, let’s just say we both might help each other out. Why?”

“Then… I’m swearing my loyalty to you!”

You froze, stunned into silence. Without even needing to ask why, he answered.

“You know I’m from the north. I’m from a small village, a poor one. Not as poor at this one, but I know what it’s like to be in need. This place needs my help, more than the king and his kingdom do, even more than Prince Leona. So I’m going to do all I can until everyone has enough to eat and drink.” Stepping closer, you winced a bit at the rapid wagging of his tail that created a slight wind and you did not miss the instance his pointed ears perked up straight in attention. “Leona doesn’t need my help, he’s honestly stronger than me… but that doesn’t mean I’m weak! I can be useful!”

Yeah, you know. You witnessed a sparring match with him yesterday where he was able to take on five of your own men and women. Actually, with everything he’s saying now, it all made sense as to why as soon as he was victorious in yesterday’s match, he looked in your direction as if expecting praise. Total sense. Even if you did reject his pledge, you had a feeling he wasn’t exactly the type to take no for an answer.

“I’ll be your guard now, boss!” He was looking down at you expectantly again with those sparkling eyes.

Jack really had no clue what he was getting himself into, did he? You merely sighed, not willing to sit here and listen to his reasoning all morning. “Okay, you know what? Fine. Jack, welcome to the clan. Just don’t expect me to be the one to break the news to your now former boss.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Chief!”

You stirred, groaning as you begrudgingly opened your eyes, stretching out on the rough mattress and shivering from the cold of the windy outskirts. When you glanced to the side, there was Ruggie, crouching at your bedside and looking both wide-awake and alert. Blinking slowly, you muttered, “What is it, Ruggie?”

“There’s a spy! We’ve been had, boss, but they’re still around. We got them surrounded, so they’re not going anywhere.” The hyena watched as you immediately sat up, giving you space to place on your boots and grab some weapons.

You grabbed a few things, whatever seemed useful and small enough to carry on your person. Something like this hasn’t happened since you arrived, but you had a good idea on how to go about the situation from stories told to you by local residents. They said spies were much more common a few years ago, and the former clan leader could be much more… brutal in her resolve. A spy appearing now was throwing a wrench in your plan, especially if they noticed a certain white-tailed soldier here. “Who noticed them?”

“Jack. He’s the one keeping them at bay, but knowing him, he’s probably beaten them an inch within their life.”

“Shit.” Great! Just peachy! Just the opposite of what you needed. If that spy got word back to authorities that a guard of theirs had turned, it could ruin Leona’s plot. Which might mean that the hyenas would never get to live in the pride lands. When you heard running footsteps, you quickly removed the curtain separating your room from the outside. You stepped outside just in time to see a figure sprinting past your door–– that is until a thin rope was thrown at their feet, tripping them up by getting their legs tangled in the material.

Thump!

They fell over with a yelp before being dragged in the direction they had come from. In an instant, the person who had caught them and dragged them back, had tossed the remaining rope over a tall wooden pole that held a small lit candle to dimly illuminate the dark street. Jack heaved on the rope, pulling so the captor hung by their legs several feet off the ground, like some rare catch being displayed in the middle of the town.

“Y-You can’t do this to me! You’re part of the kingdom! This is treason!” The spy cried as Jack tied the rope to the pole so he could let go and they wouldn’t fall.

Slowly approaching, you announced your presence with your voice. “What do you have there, Jack?”

As soon as his ears detected your voice, he stood upright almost as if in salute as he answered, “Boss, I heard them sniffing about the storage. They planned to poison the only water source we have.” He turned to glare at the captured spy, nearly growling, “This would’ve made everyone sick, and people would’ve died.”

“Huh. I get it now.” According to your knowledge, this was not the first time something of this sort had happened before. Although the last time it happened was years ago. Several years ago, when a group of lion-folk attempted to cut off the biggest food source the hyena-folk had. Tilting your head at the spy, you noted their dark lion ears and tail. One of the few outcasted so called weak and sick lion-folk that came to the village as the only place they could go when their own turned them away.

Jack gazed down at you, murmuring, “It’s your call, boss.”

Their arms flung around wildly as they attempted to stop themselves from swinging in their captured state. From the shadows there were eyes, watching so intently, and you were sure that this snoop knew they were being watched by more than just you and the wolf beside you. They struggled to speak properly, but managed to choke out a desperate plea, “If you let me go, I-I’ll never come back here or to the kingdom! I won’t say a word about this wolf-man here. And–– I’ll tell you who sent me! But! You must promise that you won’t kill me.”

You ignored Jack’s gaze, focusing your attention on this back-stabber. You recognized them. They had been in the hunting group. Continuing your staring contest with them, watching their wide eyes and the way their chest went up and down with quick breaths in rapid succession, you finally had your reply. As calm as can be, you responded, “I swear I won’t kill you. Now, who sent you to stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong?”

Hesitating, they then groaned and relented, “The queen! The queen has been wanting to put a stop to the constant thieving and tricks by the hyenas. So she sent me to get rid of a few.”

“That’s all I need to know.” The queen was hardly mentioned in the original tale. All that you knew was that she was supposedly a strong and respectable woman, beloved by the whole kingdom, and deeply in love with the king. Oh, but now you are beginning to despise her. She too had no idea of the change that was to come. “I think it’s fair game now. She tried to take the lives of people here, so I’ll take everything from her.”

As you began to walk away and wordlessly gestured for Jack to follow, the captee began to squirming anxiously, not able to reach the rope around their ankles. They hung out like a piece of steak to dry, and for their crimes, that’s exactly how they will be treated. A piece of scrap to be torn apart bit by bit. “Wait, chief! Don’t leave me like this! We had a deal! Any crime seen has to be reported, wolf! You took that oath when you started working for the royals!”

Slowly nodding at his words, after a few more paces you noticed Jack froze. Sighing, you turned around, watching the enemy struggle like a miserable little fly caught in a web. Bending down, you picked up a sizable stone which you judged the weight of in your hands, inspecting it in your palm. “You’re right. I promised that I wouldn’t kill you. And as per his oath, Jack has to report what he saw. He can’t report what he doesn’t see.” Tossing the stone, you struck the candle atop the post, extinguishing the flame and the only light source for this block. It was night, and there was no way to see.

“W-Wait, what are you doing?”

The glowing eyes of the watching hyenas seemed to brighten in the sudden darkness. Multiple pairs of eyes steadily creeping closer to the defenseless traitor.

“Oh, wow, too bad. The light went out. Guess we can’t see.”

You ignored the traitorous lion’s cries and begs for mercy, a rapturous laughter breaking out from the multiple spectators. Their giggles rung in your ears, the pure multitude of them overpowering the fearful shrieks of the one criminal. You managed to get the former royal guard to look ahead instead of back behind him, escorting the wolf further down the road because from your room you were certain you would still be able to hear the carnage about to take place. As Jack went a few steps ahead before taking a turn at a block, you lingered behind, looking back to see the enemy screaming and wriggling wildly but to no avail. They continued to hang from their feet as the glowing eyes from the darkness crept closer and closer, no doubt ready to strip them for all they had and give them a punishment for their betrayal that could only make them yearn for the sweet release of death.

You followed with Jack, getting far away, enough so you could no longer hear the pained screeches and wails of misery. Once far enough, you questioned, “Did you know? About the queen?”

Jack whipped his head towards you, his white hair rising a bit. He looked as if you asked him if he poisoned the water. Betrayed. “No!! I’d never do something as low as that!”

“It’s just a question.”

He frowned deeply, ears flattening as per usual when he was somber. “Why did you do that…?”

Stopping in your tracks beside him, you looked up at him, able to see his features well on these dimly lit streets. “What, that back there? If we let them go, they would’ve reported you anyway. I know their type. Besides, I have to help out my own, don’t I? That’s my job.”

His expression went blank, but you could practically see the words being processed in his head. The more it registered, the more his ears perked up and the faster his bushy tail wagged. It was difficult for him to hide that slight curve tugging at the corner of his lips, no matter how hard he tried to remain stone-faced. “Your own…” That meant acceptance, didn’t it? “Right, I understand now… Thanks, chief.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Maybe saying that to Jack was a mistake. His insistence on being your closest subordinate had only worsened, if that were even possible. He burned through chores and tasks even faster, sticking by your side like glue. As you tried to escape his presence at least for a minute, you found yourself on the outskirts of the village by the abandoned bones of giant creatures and in the dark rocky valley where most lion-folk wouldn’t dare venture.

In between two small cliffs, you were abruptly yanked up in a tiny cranny where a familiar hyena quickly motioned to keep quiet. It was a small little nook he found off the ground, a cool shaded perch nestled between the larger rocks. Holding a single finger up to his lips in a shushing motion, he grinned when he heard the wolf calling your name was getting further and further away. After a moment, he finally relaxed, sighing loudly, “Man, I thought that beefcake would never leave! Seriously, who’s he think he is? He’s practically trying to rob me of my top spot! I’ve worked my tail off for this place beside you, you know? Jack won’t ever understand, he could only dream of getting on my level with you! I kept my promise, you know.”

“Hm?” When you turned your head to look over at him, he was gazing at you with those gray eyes, watching you intently. Before a content looking smile steadily overcame his features.

“My promise, you remember, don’t ya? When you used to take care of us and the other kids, just because you were the oldest and the strongest. So you’d go out and make those dangerous rounds into the kingdom all on your own, and you’d always come back with just enough food for us to share. But you were always injured somehow.” In this small space, he had to sit curled up, bending his knees but using them as a spot to lean the side of his head against. He continued to smile at you, giggling at those mysterious memories in his head. “It worried us sick when you left, and when you came back scratched up we couldn’t stop cryin’. So one day, I promised you that I’d get stronger to help you out and… Well, I’ve kept that part of the promise. Now the only part left is the part where I swore we’d live in a huge fancy palace one day where you didn’t have to go out and do the hunting!”

So Ruggie was close to the real chief, even before they became leader of the clan… It made you feel slightly guilty for taking up this moniker. But you had no choice when you were tossed into this world with no warning. However, even if Ruggie couldn’t fulfill this childish promise, you would. It was the least you could do, not just for yourself, but for the rest of the hyena-folk. He helped you so much in that first week. Leaning your head against the wall, you responded quietly, “I’ll make sure you get to live in a palace someday soon, Ruggie. I promise.”

“Don’t say that, or I’m gonna hold you up to it! Besides, I promised first. Make up your own.” He laughed, playfully bumping his shoulder against yours as a cheeky grin spread on his lips. After a moment, he waited, gazing at you impatiently as he tilted his head and rested it back against his knees. “Well? C’mon, tell me, what’re you gonna promise to me?”

“What should I promise you…?” Tapping your finger against your chin, you pondered on the thought. What would Ruggie want? Scratch palace off the list, because he already claimed that. An abundance of food seemed like an option, but you rather not risk promising him that and watching the land run out of resources. Promising him a place in the pride lands was a bit too much on the nose. It would just make you seem suspicious when you would eventually get all the hyena-folk access to the pride lands. Finally, after a few moments of thinking with no ideas, you shrugged and inquired, “Well, what do you want, Ruggie? What can I give you?”

That cheeky grin grew wider, stretching across his face as he averted his gaze, beating around the bush and drawing out his words for further suspense. “Welllll… Actually, there is something I can think of, call me greedy.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, feeling your own smile begin to form. “Okay, greedy, what is it?”

If you took a peek, you could see his short brown tail moving side-to-side rapidly as he lifted his head, “Swear you won’t laugh? Even if it is mushy and stuff?”

Amused, you gave a soft chuckle, “I swear, I won’t laugh. Even if it’s mushy.”

Shifting so he was facing you with his legs crossed, he began somewhat hesitantly, almost nervously, before gaining a bit of confidence the more he went on. “I want you to promise me that I’ll always be your number two, and you’ll always let me stay beside you.”

Raising an eyebrow, it suddenly hit you. Ruggie was jealous of Jack! At that realization, a small laugh escaped your lips as you poked him, pestering him for a response as you teased, “Aww, were you jealous of that big bad wolf~? Is that it? I should’ve known! You’ve always been sticking by me, then Jack comes and ruins your flow. Who would've guessed?”

“Shut––! I’m not jealous!” He hissed, growing embarrassed. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh, you lyin’ little––!”

Laughing and giggling reached your ears, causing you and Ruggie to both freeze. His semi-round ears perked up, both of you listening intently to the voices. It sounded like two children, but it wasn’t familiar. Leaning your ear closer to the stone wall, you listened to the voices that were getting closer and closer, almost directly below the hiding spot you were in.

“This is it. Just like my uncle said!” One of the voices whisper-yelled, as if they were worried about whatever may lurk just around the corner, or just above them. It sounded like a young boy. But none of the children you had encountered in the village sounded like him, and you met practically all of them.

The second voice piped up. It was the voice of a young girl. “It’s so creepy… People really live out here?” That implied they were children not from the outskirts.

Then you were reminded of a scene from the original story. The young prince, son of the majestic king, heard a secret from his uncle, the second prince. The second prince told him of a graveyard full of bones among the outskirts, just past the kingdom’s reach, where only the bravest of souls ventured and returned from. The young kid prince, being such an ambitious child, foolishly snuck out to the outskirts with his friend. There, they were attacked by the hyenas, for the outskirts were their territory. The only reason the two children and royal attendant who arrived late to save them, were not killed, was because the majestic king arrived just in time to fend off attacks and warn the hyenas to never attack his son again. That scene was about to happen, right now.

As the two children, the kid prince and his friend, went back and forth, you and Ruggie exchanged glances. Steadily a grin spread on the hyena’s face as he mouthed: fresh meat.

Before he could even think about moving, you held up your hand, motioning him to keep still and quiet as you detected an additional pair of steps. Steps coming quickly, heavier, meaning it was someone in a rush. Someone heavier than a child. “Wrong! The only thing we’ll be doing is going home! We’re way beyond the boundaries of the kingdom!”

The royal attendant that served the king himself, there was no mistaking it. It was happening. Silently, you and your right-hand hyena listened to the slight bickering and scolding occurring between the young royal and the attendant. As much as you wished to end the king’s royal lineage here, which would allow Leona to take the throne once Falena passed, that would take far too long. The kid prince couldn’t die here. He needed to remain alive, that way you could be sure to kill two lions with one stone later. Besides, killing the two later by staging the accident was much more preferable to killing the young prince in cold blood while the king remained alive and could wreak havoc in revenge.

Ignoring the continuous conversation down below, you looked over at Ruggie who appeared antsy. “Now?” He whispered impatiently.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to face the majestic king alone if he really was strong enough to make people fear him. So, turning your attention to Ruggie, you replied in a hushed tone, “Backup first. No wolf in this royal business. And I want them alive.” You grinned, giving him the sign to go. “Scare them good.”

The royal attendant quickly attempted to usher them away, but the two children stubbornly refused to budge. “Right now, we’re all in very real danger––!”

Interrupting him was a whistle. A slow quiet whistle in an ominous tune, carried on by the wind which seemed to make it echo throughout the entire area, bouncing off the bones and walls of the rocky terrain and carrying it beyond. Any hyena-folk or a wolfman within close distance would be able to pick up on the whistle with their ears, and those of the clan might be able to decipher its message. Backup needed. Only hyenas, no wolf or lions. Capture guests alive.

The whistling had caused the three unexpected guests to become paralyzed in fear, you could see the hairs on the back of their neck were raised in alarm. First they heard Ruggie, who’s whistling had turned to cackling at their expressions of freight.

You too couldn’t contain your laughter at their pure fear. “Heh, Ruggie, when I said give them a good scare, I didn’t mean to the point of making their souls leave their bodies.”

The hyena shrugged, giggling as he followed you when you stalked closer to the unexpected guests. “Gee, boss, what can I say? It’s not my fault it’s as easy as stealing candy from a baby.”

You ignored the other two, and honed in on the kid prince, the protagonist, the hero of the story. Too young to fight back, yet one day he’d be powerful enough to defeat even Leona. “How unexpected to be greeting the son of a king.”

The three had nowhere to run, not when the reinforcements arrived. Soon, they were surrounded by a good number of hyena-folk. One thing you learned about hyena-folk is that they were small and gaunt due to lack of nutrition, but they worked frighteningly well together in groups to defeat much bigger and stronger opponents. As you focused solely on the little prince, you examined his features as he bravely stood in front of his friend. There was a healthy glow in his bronze cheeks, and his hair was unlike his Uncle Leona’s. His short messy locks were thick strands of a bright orange that faded into yellow, and he had big brown eyes that never broke eye contact with you. “Two children and a servant of the king’s. I know exactly who you are.”

The royal attendant interjected, stepping between you and the two lion-kids. “Let them go, chief! We did not mean to step on your land. We will leave immediately!” No matter how he spoke, you could tell he was scared but his tone and the way he stepped back each second when you didn’t stop moving forward, forcing the two younglings behind him to step back as well. Had he been a hornbill bird like in the original tale, his feathers would surely be all ruffled by now. “If you do this, you will start a war with Falena!”

“Hyenas and lions have been at war since anyone can remember.” Removing your knife from its sheath, you gripped its handle in your hand. In its reflection, you could see Ruggie and the other hyena folk appearing fidgety and ready to sink their claws at any given moment, while dread and terror crept onto the faces of the three in front of you. “But with this… I can cause the kingdom a tiny shred of grief, just as they have caused the village a world of pain.” All you wanted to do was knick them, a cut small enough to draw blood, but when you lunged forward, the royal attendant threw the long blue sleeves of his cloak at you, effectively blinding you but only for a moment.

As soon as you lunged, so did the others. Those hyenas closest to you, instantly removed the royal attendant and pinned the squirming man to the ground. When you could finally see again, it revealed you were correct on your guess. The two lions had run, with some of your own chasing behind them until they were led to the underground tunnels. Placing your knife back at your hip, you scowled at the royal attendant now restrained and unable to help those he was tasked to protect. “Keep him there, don’t let him go. The rest of you, after them!”

From where you remained, you could hear and see the hyena-folk running about, in and out of the maze of tunnels. They were small, yes, but the children were smaller, so they’d no doubt get away until they were cornered, just as they did in the original plot. But this was exactly what needed to happen for the plot progress. There was no point in changing the plot now. It was best to change the plot when you could reap the most, and that was not now. It was a loss required to win in the grand scheme of things.

It didn’t take long for the two lion-children to reemerge from a hole in the ground, leading the two to become surrounded. The two huddled together, fearfully scanning the faces of the dozens of hyena-folk that surrounded them.

Three.

The young prince bared his baby fangs, letting out a squeak of a roaring war cry. A pathetic example, probably puny compared to his father. Speaking of which, he should be here soon, judging by how the royal attendant was gone meaning he had somehow escaped the grasp of his hyena captors. That attendant would probably be sending out an alert by now.

Two.

You watched, unimpressed as the hyena-folk present broke out into laughter at the cub’s tiny yeowl, their heightened anxiety only doing more to add to the hyena’s howling cackles. Even Ruggie was doubled over in laughter, but you knew better than to lower your guard right now, especially as a few of the underlings poked and prodded for the little prince to do his war cry once again.

One.

You grabbed Ruggie’s collar and pulled him back just the young prince opened his mouth, and a much powerful louder war cry like a terrifying roar could be heard that echoed in the space all around them. Just in time, you watched as the hyena-folk stepped back in alarm at the sudden noise. Towards the back of the crowd, you could make out the scene of some of your own men and women being flung to the side like rag dolls by a mightier figure. It was clear by just that glimpse, that this was King Falena, and he was stronger than even Prince Leona and former royal guard Jack. You couldn’t watch these people get hurt anymore, so you whistled, instantly signaling your kin to back away as the lionman’s ears perked up at the noise from your direction.

When he rushed forward to stand closer to the two children, you nodded at your kin to step further away, giving him plenty of space and no one within radius to attack. Their brown and black semi-round ears were flattened as they kept their distance, none daring to attack, not that you would make them right now. You felt Ruggie’s hand on your back, he too kept low and didn’t engage.

When the king’s brown-eyed gaze turned to you, it held nothing but pure fury. Now that you were looking at the majestic king of the tales, he really did look like his son, the similarities were uncanny. But King Falena didn’t look anything like his brother, Prince Leona. Falena had bright brown eyes that must’ve been usually filled with kindness whenever his son wasn’t in danger, Leona had watchful green eyes that felt they were judging you with every move you made. Falena had a long warm-colored mane with sand-colored fur on his lion traits, while Leona had a dark mane with dark brown fur on his lion traits. Falena had a stature and was built with an incredible strength that must’ve even greatly surpassed your wolf guard, and while yes Leona had a sure strength himself he was only a few inches shorter than Jack. It really was no wonder Leona had never won the crown through ritual combat. No matter how you saw it, Leona couldn’t beat Falena through a battle of brawn. However, a battle of brains may have a different outcome…

“If you ever come near my son again––”

You stood your ground as he stood close, his face merely inches in front of yours. Behind your back you gripped the dagger in your palm, resisting the urge to plunge the weapon through his eye. Imagine that, if you could give the king a scar matching his disgraced brother. It took everything not to snap back, attack him for all he and his kingdom had done by leaving the hyena-folk to rot. But somehow, you didn’t lunge forward. You only nodded slowly, answering firmly, “No, Falena, never again.” Patient. You needed to be patient this time.

“You’ve been warned, chieftain.” Falena growled before turning around, giving his son one last firm look before silently escorting them through the crowd of hyenas that parted ways for them to take their leave.

Once they were gone, you gazed around, seeing the hyena-folk help the injured and wounded by Falena’s short rampage. Behind you, Ruggie emerged, moving in front of you to do a once over, despite knowing you had barely even touched anyone throughout that entire ordeal. “Are you good?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Perfectly fine…” Just then, your gaze traveled up to the cliffs. High on the top of the rocky terrain, was that familiar lionman, the second prince, gazing down at the scene with a slight frown. When his green eyes flitted over to you, you frowned in turn as a small smile appeared on his face before he promptly disappeared away from sight. “Ruggie, you stay and help the others. I have to have a little talk with our prince friend.”

It didn’t take very long to reach the top of the cliff where you found the second prince lounging in the shade. Leona didn’t spare you a glance, and he didn’t even open his eyes, but you knew he was awake. When his ear slowly flickered, he sighed, “Why didn’t you kill them?” When you blinked, his eyes were open, those green orbs gazing at you intently. “You had the perfect opportunity. Yet you hesitated.”

Begrudgingly, you sat down across from him, frowning at his lazy form. “Because I know you have a better plan. A plan that will get rid of both Falena and his son.”

A sly grin made itself visible on the curve of his lips, and you felt that you made a mistake before the words even left his lips. “I never once told you that, or anybody about that.” Shit. Sitting up before pushing himself up to his feet, he slowly began to circle you as he mused, “You know, you always seem to know what’s going to happen, before it happens. Somehow, you were able to get this far without any of your clan noticing you aren’t the true chief. You’re always looking at me with this wise-ass look, like you’re so proud that you can predict what comes next. When we first met, for a brief second there was a look of… disbelief on your face when you kept staring at me. After pondering on the possibilities after our last meeting, I think I figured you out. It sounds insane, but then again, I’m not completely sane if you haven’t noticed by now. But you aren’t even from this world, are you? You had this foreign scent on you when we met, it was something I couldn’t name even if I tried, but now all you smell like is hyena. Then I looked into it. I went down to the kingdom’s marketplace, I even contracted merchants to bring me sweet-smelling products from all around the world. But nothing matched that scent you had on the first day, nothing at all. At least… nothing in this world.”

You went still as he stopped pacing, and opted to plop close down beside you. Incredibly close, so much that his arm that propped up half his upper weight was against your arm. You could feel his warmth, but his close proximity made you squirm in place. You didn’t move an inch though, because even scooting over an inch would be giving him a sign that you would bend to his will.

As he leaned against you, you glared at his amused expression. That cocky smirk was on his lips, because he knew he had you in his claws. When he spoke, he was so close that he only had to speak in a low and husky whisper. “This time, I brought a proposal instead of an offering. But I want to hear you tell me what it is I’m planning.”

You were silent.

“Well?”

Under the pressure, you finally relented. “Fine. But only if you answer one question I have.”

It only took a second of consideration until he hummed, “Of course. That’s only fair, chieftain.”

Taking a deep breath, you averted your eyes away from intense green-eyed gaze, attempting to forget the fact that his face was literally inches beside yours. There was no point in hiding it from him anymore, was there? He already knew everything. “My guess is that you’ll want to do it in the gorge. You’ll have myself and some of the other hyenas start a panic with wild wildebeest grazing on the grass. There’ll be a stampede, and you’ll have the little prince down there waiting. When his old man goes to save him, you’re hoping he and the prince get crushed by the stampede. If not, at least it’ll weaken them enough to finish off quietly and stage it as an accident.” When you glanced at him, you could see his grin had grown. “Did I get all that right?”

“Everything down to the smallest minute detail.” He chuckled, somehow finding this tense exchange amusing. His tail swished slowly side to side, and you couldn’t help but notice how pleased he looked with himself. “Now, your question.”

You paused, carefully considering how to go about wording this specific inquiry. All the while he continued to watch you, never once taking his eyes off you. Until finally, you had it. “Why’ve you kept me alive? If you knew I wasn’t who I said I was, you could’ve told the hyena-folk by now. You would’ve been a trustworthy figure then, at least in their eyes. They’d follow you, just like you want. You never needed my help. Besides, if you knew I knew stuff about the future, wouldn’t that mean I was a threat to your plan?”

“You see me for the wonder I am.” Noticing your confusion, he continued, “You don’t know what it’s like to be the second born, when your entire kingdom scorns you just because you were born a few years late. But now…” He chuckled, holding your chin between his fingers and forcing you to look him in the eye. “With meticulous planning and suffering through years of denial, I’ll become King. I’ll get everything I ever deserved and more. And should you help me achieve my vision, I promise you, you will do more than just survive. You shall thrive. But without me, you won’t get a thing… If it's agreed, shall we go then? Let’s inform your beloved little village of the coup of the century that will take place tomorrow.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

To say the clan rejoiced at the news felt like an understatement. They were elated, it led to partying and laughing all night, all of them eager to follow your command and the second prince’s plan if it meant that they could finally improve their way of living. Even Jack, who you thought you might have to deal with his refusal due to his strong morals and all, only silently listened to the declaration by Leona before approaching you and announcing he’d follow what you decided.

It wasn’t much of a choice anyways. You’d get to survive and live in splendor, and you’d improve the lives of so many hyena-folk that may have later died of sickness or starvation, all in exchange for the life of a king and his son. When the day arrived, you sent out the able-bodied hyena-folk to prepare. Burn the wild wall of thorns between the cliffs and the desert, have a few posted at every potential escape route, place watchouts on top of high cliffs so they could see everything, and above all was the warning from you to the clan. Do not let the young prince escape, because if he does, then hope for the lion-folk will live on and he may one day grow to be as powerful as his father.

When everything was prepared, you waited. You had assembled a small team to rile up the wildebeest, which consisted of yourself, Ruggie, Jack, and two other small groups of three hyena-folk currently positioned on other sides. You would frighten the creatures simultaneously, flanking from the back, the right, and the left, forcing the gigantic horde to go down into the gorge where they’d create a deadly stampede, trampling anything in their path.

Jack gazed at you silently, before he murmured quietly, as if to himself, “Is it alright to really be doing this…? To kill the king and the prince? I know you said it was, and I trust you, but…”

“Jack, you’re way too soft. It’s an eat or be eaten world! If you’re so worried about it, think about it this way. Those two lives will allow countless hyenas and outcasts like me and you to survive.” Ruggie scolded, watching as the white wolf slowly nodded. While waiting for the signal, he glanced at the wildebeest grazing on the grass before looking at you. “You know, I knew you were ruthless, boss, but going along with Leona’s despicable plan? I mean, not that I’m opposed to it, but it was surprising at first, is all.”

“I do whatever I have to for…” Me. “You and the others.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a figure on an opposing cliff. It was Leona, who was staring you down with a devious sort of smile. He must’ve already left his kid nephew down in the gorge. Quick to change the subject, you announced, “There. Let’s go. Jack, signal to the others.”

Obediently he fulfilled his command, standing upright from his spot leaning against the boulders and rocks they hid among. When he whistled, it rang in the air, immediately alerting not only your allies on the other side of the herd but also the wildebeest that shot up in alert.

It took one stone from you, a stone tossed at full speed, smacking the hind leg of one of the closer wildebeest, causing it to let out a deep pained noise and instinctively react by kicking about wildly, causing a chain reaction of confusion and alarm to those around it, which only spread further and further. Jack’s whistle was the sign to attack, and having already made the first move, you stood back as you watched Ruggie, Jack, and the two other hyena groups jump out of their hiding places and cause even more of a panic throughout the entire herd as they scared the beasts with their spears and knives.

You watched as the wildebeest began to scatter in the opposite direction of yourself and the clan members, leading them right into the gorge. They moved as a group. One thing about wildebeest, is that they traveled in herds with numbers ranging anywhere from a few hundred to a couple of thousands. They were so numerous and sizable creatures that caused the ground to shake when startled and running. It would be very very difficult to survive a stampede of such magnitude, maybe that’s why Leona chose such a demise in the first place.

When all of the wildebeest had been chased off the flat and into the gorge, you stood beside your subordinates and paced at the edge. Ruggie and the others looked excited, almost as if they were having fun, especially because they managed to catch and kill one of the straggling creatures. Jack looked down at the gorge, frowning but doing nothing else until he inquired, “What next, boss?”

You couldn’t be at ease until you knew that both King Falena and his prince son were dead. You didn’t want to imagine the prince getting away, which would lead you to years of sleepless nights as you would have to plot a way on how to track him down through the desert and send people to kill him. “Good job, everyone. Now, go out to individual posts along the desert. Make sure the entire perimeter is covered. The king and the prince cannot leave that gorge alive, got it?”

A chorus of hums and giggles responded, “Yes, chief.”

Once they all departed and you were alone, you slid down about halfway into the gorge. You weren’t on the ground floor, so you weren’t concerned, but for now to avoid being seen, you would keep behind boulders and rocks to blend into the environment. At this point in the story, the second prince would feign horror as he goes to inform the majestic king of the stampede occurring with the young prince trapped within the gorge. The two brothers would rush to the gorge to save the young prince. For now all you could do was follow the cloud of dust and stragglers the stampede left behind, keeping low and against the wall so you would not be spotted.

The gorge was massive, so you continued for a few minutes, all the while reciting the rest of the story from your childhood in a low mutter. “When Falena and Leona get there, they see the kid prince hanging onto a branch during the stampede. Falena jumps in to save his son, dodging almost every hit by the wildebeest. As he’s right next to the branch, he’s hit, knocked down and the branch breaks. Before the kid prince can fall to his death, his dear old dad jumps and catches him. When he lands, Falena is hit again, dropping his son. Falena manages to get up and pick up his kid, putting him on a ledge right before he’s swept away in the stampede. The prince watches in horror, looking for his dad, until he sees Falena jump out and cling to the steep wall of the gorge. He struggles to climb up, obviously weak from being hit before, but he reaches the top and there at the top… is Leona.”

Leona. There was Leona across the gorge standing upright and looking down at the figure beneath him as if they were nothing but a speck of dirt on his feet. Just below him, nails dug into the rocky walls and slipping, was King Falena. You couldn’t hear what they were saying over the thousands of hooves stomping against the ground, but you didn’t have to hear a word in order to know what was going on. This was the moment where the majestic king died. In an instant, Leona lunged forward slightly, digging his nails into the flesh on the back of the king’s palm, which caused him to emit a roar of pain. You knew what came next. You averted your gaze to the side as you heard his plummeting scream, and then it was silenced, drowned out by the continuous running wildebeest. Long live the king.

One down, one more to go. The cloud of dust left behind in the stampede’s destructive wake, concealed the bottom of the gorge from your sight. You need to get down there now. You needed to see Falena dead with your own two eyes, and you needed to make sure that the kid prince he left behind would not live to see tomorrow. Upon finding your way in the dust, you squint to see past the sandy clouds, and one of the first things you could make out upon searching the ground was the king’s motionless body on its side right under the broken branch. Yet neither of the princes were anywhere in sight.

Continuing forward, you felt your nerves spike. That kid prince must have ran–– and you could only hope the story would truly divert from its original course here and now. You could only pray to whatever cruel god there was that allowed you to be thrown into this world, that all your preparations worked to stop the runaway prince.

When you heard a footstep, you froze, hand hovering over the dagger at your hip as the approaching shadow in the cloud of dust got closer and closer. However, when it was revealed to be Leona from the ashes, your shoulders slumped, relieved of the tension. No breath of relief, because you could not be relieved when knowing that the job was not done yet. However, that tension immediately went straight back into your system when you noticed the red on his hands. By now he had already noticed you, he probably was aware of your presence far before you were aware of his. Hesitantly you gestured to the blood on his hands. “What’s that from…?”

“A finished job. It’s not mine.” He answered with an ominous smirk. Steadily he stepped closer, before announcing in a melodramatic tone, “My brother’s death is a terrible tragedy, but to lose my nephew who was swept away in the stampede and whose body was never found… For me, it’s a deep and personal loss.” No longer could he hold in his laughter as he stood right in front of you and concluded, “So it is with a heavy heart that I assume the throne. Yet out of the ashes of this tragedy, we shall rise!”

You frowned, prying your eyes away from his hands and to his face full of wicked mirth. “And the body?”

Sighing, he rolled his eyes but answered in a slight chuckle, “I knew you’d worry about that. So I had your clan dispose of the body, in the desert where no one will find him and his remains will be plucked by the vultures.”

At that moment you froze, eyes going wide. That… That might have been the fate that would have awaited you…

When he stepped closer, so close that you were practically up against his chest. You winced when he tapped the bottom of your chin until you looked up at him, painting the bottom half of your face red with the blood smeared on his fingers. Blood that was not his, whether it belonged to the king or his son, you weren’t entirely sure, and you’d rather not know. “That won’t happen to you, I wouldn’t let it happen.” He spoke, as if he sensed your current fears. Just then, another delighted smirk grew on his face and that familiar spark of desire reignited in his eyes. He had the throne, the kingdom, what else did he want? What else could he possibly gain? “I promised you that you’d thrive, didn’t I? Well, now that the throne belongs to me, I’ll make good on that promise. Your reward is the opportunity to be my royal consort.”

Your stomach dropped, feeling dread settle in the pits of your gut as his thumb moved to rub small circles on your cheek, covering you in more red. Only a small choked whisper could escape your throat. “What?”

“Be my consort.” He repeated casually, looking down at your stunned expression with amusement that made him chortle. “What better way to unite two, lion-folk and hyena-folk, then by matrimony between two leaders? You get a life of splendor and continue to hold power, while I reign as king with you by my side. It’s like… killing two lions with one stone, isn’t that right, my Little Chieftain?”

#twst #twisted wonderland #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #jack howl #twst jack #yandere jack howl #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #yandere ruggie bucchi #leona kingscholar #twst leona #yandere leona kingscholar #Savanaclaw #damnation twst au

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britcision · 2 months

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FRIENDS IT IS HERE. As promised even! We are technically just under 20k for this chapter, but still not small enough that cutting it in half has stopped it from brutally murdering the app, so…. We’ll see how this posts! 😅

I did myself a whole honkin’ reread on the whole thing too, refreshed my lil reminders of what I named things and all the lil threads I was playing with… and hot damn it’s a beast huh?

The good news is, although we are getting into plot, we are getting out of the heavy stuff, at least for the next little bit! Back to our silly happy fun times with the boys 🥰

And, y’know, dealing with Jason’s death and first transformation and all. Totally all fine! Nothing to worry about! 😇

Today’s chapter is a lil Bruce-heavy in this front half because the main thing stopping me was that I got most of the way through before I realized I needed to rewrite Jason’s entire first scene, but I’m a lot happier with it now 😁

First Chapter and AO3:

Previous Chapter:

——————————

The Finished Core part 1

When it finally happened, Jason’s core coming in was pretty anticlimactic. For all they’d worried it might trigger a transformation, rile up the pit, or even have a physical shockwave… the event itself was almost disappointing. Buried busily in some paperwork for the library, Jason himself hadn’t actually noticed.

He’d already started feeling what he thought might be his core over the past few days; like a vibrating ball of energy, usually in the middle of his chest (although it wandered in all directions). Which would make the knot of tension that sometimes sat in his gut and sometimes went as far up as his throat… probably Pitty.

Not fun having a distinct sensation that went along with everything else the Pit was. Did nothing at all to ease his worries about what the hell would happen when they were both actually completed.

But when the day finally came… yeah, nothing. The soft, warm glow in his chest when he thought about the project had grown steadily stronger over the week and a bit he’d known Danny at that point, so he hadn’t really paid enough attention to notice a change.

They’d still been seeing each other every day, although now that the new school semester had started up it had slowed down to a couple hours in the evening. Jason had dived headlong into his restoration project both on Frostbite’s advice, and to keep himself from counting the hours. Which, apparently, worked?

The biggest disruption was actually Danny blasting in through the wall not a minute later, invisible until he dived through one of Jason’s freshly legal goons and almost knocked the table over. Luckily there were no actual Red Hood links lying around - Catherine’s name was staying clean, which was for the best since Jason still hadn’t thought of a way to bring it up.

Even now, back from another appointment with Frostbite to confirm all was well, Jason didn’t actually feel any different? It was official though; both cores were complete, and now all they had to do was wait until the pit matured enough to actually leave Jason’s body and do its own thing.

Now that he didn’t have any choice but to confront it, he couldn’t have said what he’d expected anyway, but… well, surely there should have been something? More energy? More corruption? Hell, even increased ghost senses or some indication that the powers would be coming in.

According to Danny, intangibility usually came with the pit dropping out of your stomach and feeling floaty. Accidental floating came with a head rush or feeling like falling. Invisibility just fucking happened.

All he felt was weirdly normal? The fancy ecto ice was working, and his little ghost succulent - that or all the time with Danny; even Pitty’s flares of emotion were manageable. The green haze hadn’t come back since meeting Lady Gotham.

And okay, maybe he was pushing that by going right back to the manor the next day, but listen. Frostbite had reminded him to do calming tasks, since Pitty should start being more aware of their surroundings now.

Baking with Alfred was as calming and soothing as Jason could imagine, without stapling himself to Danny in classes. And sure, he’d helped with Danny’s homework the past couple nights, but the guy would get sick of him eventually. Faster if they stayed attached at the hip.

(And that had been another “fun” tidbit Frostbite had dropped on them; if they were actually making their own ghost baby, they’d have been able to trade the core off between them. Jason hadn’t thought anything could make that idea sound appealing, but if he coulda just stuffed Pitty into someone else… well, he probably wouldn’t actually wish its corruption and constant tantrums on anyone else, but having a break woulda been nice.)

Now that his core was done, technically the daily hanging out probably wasn’t as necessary. So long as Jason had some backup plans to keep himself calm and in control. Which should mean that they could go from hanging out as a necessary chore to just… friends.

And since no one in the city wound Jason up like Bruce, if he happened to also be at the manor he’d have a trial-by-fire for his shiny new core. He’d kept his word and tapped out of patrol since meeting Lady Gotham (and apparently Harley had taken the manor in fire and glory the night after and locked Bruce… somewhere for two full days), so he’d not heard from B since.

According to Tim, Constantine hadn’t returned to Gotham at all.

The thought of their names only stirred angry bubbles from Pitty, and Jason absolutely wasn’t self destructive or a masochist, so he was just testing to see how far that’d last. How careful he’d need to be, and how aware the little guy was.

So obviously he wasn’t even all the way into the manor before he ran into the man himself.

Stopping short, Jason’s fist clenched more from force of habit than any actual desire. Sucking in a deep breath, he thought of his ghost succulent (which had started glowing faintly blue a couple nights ago, which was hopefully a good thing?) and carefully unclenched. Nodded a little stiffly.

This would be the first time they’d been alone together since… shit, he didn’t even know. He hadn’t seen the guy without the buffer of at least one other bat in months.

“Bruce,” he said warily, half hoping the man could just… be normal. For once. Nod, say hi, fuck off about his own business. He couldn’t still be on his anti-Danny crusade, could he?

The man actually flinched, face twitching through a couple of expressions Jason couldn’t even guess at. A sudden urge between his shoulder blades did nothing to help, distracting him long enough for everything to be smoothed under the usual masks.

If Bruce just had a damn aura… okay, that’d be one change with the completed core. All of his attempts to reach out with his own aura before had basically involved his whole body actually leaning in the same direction.

That… urge, itch between his shoulders, if that had been his aura trying to reach out, felt more like an entirely new muscle group. Curiosity won and Jason focused, trying to follow the urge and reach out… and wasn’t sure it had worked at all.

Because all he could feel was sorrow and regret, and that didn’t sound like B. At all. His compartmentalizing was out the ass, sure, but what the hell would he actually feel sorry for?

“Jason?” And from the sound of it, not the first time he’d said his name. Great.

Shelving the apparently-faulty aura for now, Jason frowned back.

“I’m here to see Alfred.” It wasn’t exactly a warning. Wasn’t exactly a threat, although it carried the possibility. Meant that if B pissed him off enough to leave, he’d face some British disapproval.

Bruce’s shoulders sagged just a little, and then he drew himself up, his face firm and resolved. Jason tensed automatically; if he actually tried to bar him from seeing Danny face to face, would he still be able to walk away?

That was why he’d brought the glacierfrost. Slipping a hand into his back pocket, he crushed a crystal quickly before the man could open his mouth. Wintergreen mint burst across the back of his tongue, another brief flicker of distraction that, for some reason, came with another pang of sorrow.

“I’m sorry.”

Jason nearly stumbled, and he hadn’t even been moving. Bruce looked… tired, all of a sudden. More tired than he could remember ever seeing him.

“Wait… what?”

Bruce gave him a sad smile.

“It’s been brought to my attention… multiple times… that you should have heard that from me alone first. And then I kept adding more and more to be sorry for. And I know you don’t want to see me, so now seems like the best time to start.” It was jerky, and awkward, and probably the most uncomfortable Jason had ever seen Bruce in a conversation.

Which only served to confuse him further. Bruce overplanned everything; he never acted without at least two layers of backups. It was why he had a million plans for every possible micro-scenario. He didn’t do spontaneous.

“What are you even talking about?” He asked, half exasperated, and Bruce’s smile widened a fraction. That only made it more self deprecating.

“There are too many things to count, but… Jason, I’m sorry I sprung the apology on you at the gala. I thought having the world as my witnesses would show you I meant it, but I should have asked first. I should have apologized first, to you. Alone. I’m… aware what it says about me that I couldn’t.” He was almost wearing one of Brucie’s self-deprecating smiles now, but the edges were raw. Unpolished. Certainly not camera ready.

Real?

Jason’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his brain entirely short-circuited. Of all the things Bruce could have said to him… of all the things the man might apologize for, he’d honestly forgotten all about the damn gala speech.

Forcing himself to focus, he folded his arms and regarded his former father figure warily.

“Sure, that’s a place to start,” he agreed, more sarcastically than he’d meant to. But he couldn’t take it back.

There was another moment of stiffness, and then Bruce’s shoulders sagged as well as he breathed out, still looking… well, so much more human. More breakable, more fallible. Or was that just from hearing him admit he’d been wrong?

“I do mean it, Jason. I did mean it,” he said softly, piercing blue eyes unusually gentle as he looked him over, and suddenly Jason knew what was bothering him.

The mask. The iron mask of Batman, the bumbling shield of Brucie. B always had a mask, over every interaction. Every situation, every possible scene, B always had a character to play. And he played them well.

That was what looked wrong about him. He wasn’t… intentional. His posture was open and unthreatening, his face lax in a way it never was while he held every muscle in check.

This was just actual, sincere B.

Jason wasn’t completely sure why that made him want to run or cry, but it said a fuck of a lot about him too.

More that he just couldn’t bring himself to return it.

Sucking in a sharp breath, seriously considering grabbing for another crystal, he nodded sharply.

“Okay. Now what.” Because that was the thing; Jason had never wanted B to be sorry that he hadn’t come for Jason. That he finally hadn’t been on time to save him from himself.

He didn’t want the apology, he wanted things to change. To be better. For Bruce to accept that it had happened, and Jason was who he was now because he’d decided to be, not the pits or Tallia or the Joker.

He wanted so many things.

Bruce was searching his face, eyes sharp even as he consciously kept the rest of the expression open. Jason could see the tick of muscle in his cheek. Fuck, was it that hard for Bruce not to put on the act?

After a moment, he spread his hands. A gesture of peace? Not holding a weapon, not tensed for an attack?

“That’s all. For now. I just… wanted you to know. I’m sorry. And I’m…” the expression pulled a little, becoming pained, “I have been told I am overreacting to the news from Amity Park as well. I should trust your judgement. So I’m pulling myself from the case to focus on the Anti-Ecto Acts.”

This time Jason’s jaw just dropped. B… Bruce never. Never pulled himself from a case. Not for broken bones, ruptured organs, not even if he’d died.

It was almost worse than the rage; all of a sudden he was lost at sea, the one grounding, immovable rock in his life swept away. Part of him was even angry at that - at B suddenly deciding that now, this time he was going to be reasonable.

When all Jason expected from him was judgement, antagonism, stupid overbearing demands and being held at arm’s length, now all of a sudden the Bat was human.

It was too late to pretend the moment hadn’t happened, to completely hide his shock, but he also couldn’t stop the bluster from rising. Not the way his eyes narrowed suspiciously, even when every part of him that had been Robin desperately hoped this was real.

“And what the hell brought that on?” Not the accusation in his voice, although for once Bruce didn’t rise to it. He just chuckled dryly, like he’d been expecting Jason’s reaction.

“Because you were right.”

And now Jason was fully on edge again, scanning the man more closely for any signs of hypnotism, mind control, that this was a clone or a replacement. A trap or a trick. Because B… Bruce would never…

Bruce raised both hands quickly, possibly expecting Jason to just… jump him. Which, to be fair, would have been a more normal interaction.

“You were the one who brought the Amity Park situation to our attention. And you’re right, that I can’t expect your doctor or any other ghost to come here to help you until it is safe for them to do so,” he added quickly, and Jason rocked back onto his heels.

Of course, the caveat. That made sense, bitter in the back of his throat as it was. Just an inarguable set of facts.

Not like he’d ever actually admit that Jason’s judgement was reliable or anything. Folding his arms again (partly to stop his fists from clenching), he gave Bruce a sceptical look.

“Right, so what finally yanked your head out of your ass about it?” He asked sharply. Bruce gave him that same wry smile.

“Diana. And Harley. And Alfred. And Selena. I have been… extensively informed I had my head up my ass. So. I’m sorry for that too. I just wanted to tell you before I left, since I don’t know when we’ll see each other again.”

And it shouldn’t have been funny that he actually looked more pained talking about this, admitting a mistake, than he had when nursing broken ribs in the infirmary. Than he’d looked during any of their fights, than when Jason had all but grabbed his face and forced him to see that it really was him, that his dear little Robin came back wrong.

But dark humour was a refuge for all the bats, and if Jason didn’t laugh he had a horrible feeling he’d cry. All that tension, all those days he’d worried about what he’d say or do when they came face to face again… he’d never have imagined any of this.

Could imagine another bloody battle before imagining Bruce saying sorry.

All of a sudden he was just tired. Ha. Dead tired.

Nothing drained the life out of him like dealing with Bruce.

“Great. So where are you going?” It was almost a rhetorical question; he didn’t really expect an answer.

Should have, though. Obviously B had to stick his foot in it again.

“Amity Park. As Bruce Wayne, not Batman,” he added quickly when Jason’s head snapped up, glare sharpening, “it seems the logical place to begin work on the acts.”

And alright, Bruce didn’t sound defensive. He never did; just obstinate, which meant so many things that guessing when it meant what was a losing game.

Jason groaned loudly, raising both hands to scrub down across his face. Because of course all that weirdness hadn’t changed a damn thing. B was gonna B, creepy and intrusive and all.

“And look into Danny.” He said flatly, locking eyes with Bruce in time to see his expression twitch. Was he actually gonna lie?

Apparently not. Bruce sighed and nodded.

“My focus will be on establishing a connection between “Brucie” and the Anti-Ecto Acts, and investigating the GIW. Danny has been involved in both, and Zatanna has requested the elder Fentons provide me with protection,” he said like it was anything but a weak excuse.

Jason stared at him for a long moment, and then figured fuck it. Actually telling them before he left was technically still an improvement, and Danny and Jason were both well aware that there was gonna be some nosy bullshit.

He’d warned Danny this was gonna happen, and Danny had said it was fine. That he didn’t care about anything Batman might find… and knowing just how badly the Justice League had fucked up was going to eat the asshole alive. Which he could have avoided just by listening.

About to just walk away, Jason hesitated. There was actually one thing… technically not a necessary for a halfa, but fuck it. Might as well get B used to some ghostly etiquette early.

“Have you asked Danny?”

Bruce stilled, giving Jason a complicated look that mostly felt like judgement. Like Jason should know better than to ask.

“I was under the impression that removing the Anti-Ecto Acts is a priority?” He said stiffly, all awkward tension again.

Jason really did roll his eyes this time.

“Sure, but you’re going to his haunt. You text Superman before investigating in Metropolis.” Which technically hadn’t even been true when Jason was actually Robin, but B did text Clark before getting caught investigating in Metropolis. By anything but Kryptonian hearing.

The protocol basically only applied whenever another hero wanted to operate within Gotham because only Batman cared, but it was on the League’s books.

Bruce had picked up the wording though, because of course he had.

“His haunt?” He asked carefully, that tiny tick between his brows that meant he was processing starting up.

Jason rolled his eyes harder. For emphasis. Had JL Dark actually missed this part of the briefing? He was so not writing up Ghost Etiquette 101 for the league. No way.

But. It. Might be kinda cool. To have for himself. Especially since it was gonna be increasingly relevant.

“He’s a ghost hero, B. He died there, he protects the city. He’s like, the only one who’ll actually get your territorial crap, because in his case it’s part of his makeup.”

Actually, might be part of B’s too. Danny hadn’t said how liminal Bruce in particular was, but it really wouldn’t surprise Jason if claiming a haunt was part of it. Or if Lady Gotham had already picked out a spot for him.

That thought stung, so he dismissed it immediately and turned towards the kitchen. Hell with the brownies he’d been planning, he was gonna need something much more complicated to keep his mind off the latest wave of bullshit.

Alfred liked soufflés. Jason could activate the house defences to keep the little gremlins out until they were done.

“Just fucking text him, B. Entering a ghost’s haunt without permission is declaring intent to throw down, and that’s a fight none of us need.” No matter how much he might like to watch B go up against the ridiculous power-set Danny was packing.

Sure, the Bat went toe to toe with the gods, but that was with plans, tech, and often, backup. Apparently he still didn’t know shit about ghosts, so it’d be fun to watch him try and adapt on the fly… especially when even Danny wasn’t sure how many actual powers were on the table.

Bruce hesitated for a long moment, looking at Jason’s retreating back.

That had gone… frankly he did not trust his own read on Jason enough to tell. Neither of them had yelled. He’d said what he was prepared to; he was still working on the appropriate format for the rest.

Jason… hadn’t reacted. Not with anger, which was a blessed relief, but not with anything else either. Except disbelief. Exasperation. Shock.

Not really any aggression, though. That had to be a decided improvement. And while part of Bruce suspected he’d been told to inform Danny so the boy could hide anything unsavoury….

He’d known that was likely to happen when he told Jason his plans. Jason would tell Danny; his allegiances there were firmly (and worryingly quickly) established.

Telling Danny himself… there was a chance that Jason had been serious about it being a matter of protocol. A formal request, for contact with an inter-dimensional entity.

Despite that entity being present and active in Bruce’s own city without so much as a nod to the Bat. But then, Batman was not a ghost, despite what the goons liked to suppose.

Firmly marshalling his own suspicions, Bruce pulled out his phone to message the youngest Fenton.

Stopped.

Bruce Wayne didn’t have the boy’s number. But Danny knew at least Nightwing’s identity; it was possible he knew them all.

He was going to Amity Park as Brucie Wayne, not Batman. But Brucie Wayne had no way to get the correct phone number. Unexpected contact from Batman was… well, expected, to an extent.

And his investigations would be handled and presented as Batman. Surely no one would challenge Brucie Wayne to a fight?

Mind made up, Bruce took his vigilante phone out and did a quick scan through his childrens’ updated contact lists. Most of them seemed to have been enjoying the company of the Amity Parkers; it wouldn’t be hard to get Danny’s contact information.

So. New year, new problems. Danny used to say it as a joke, but this year it was looking pretty darn literal.

Last year, for example, he hadn’t had to worry about his parents finding out about his supposed “love life” from a magazine (that Jazz must have sent them after they’d gone back to Amity Park, the traitor), and calling to hound him for details.

He’d managed to talk them out of driving the GAV straight to Gotham to threaten Jason into “treating him right”… which Jason thought was funny solely because he still didn’t actually know how large Jack Fenton was, nor how intense Maddie could be.

He still thought of them as civilians, and maybe a little less than competent, thanks to the database and their zero capture record.

Maybe Danny was cultivating that ignorance specifically so he could watch the moment of truth in person. Sue him, it was funny.

Unfortunately, since the magazine had also included that the gala they’d been “hooking up” at had been to celebrate Jason’s return from the dead, his mom had reached the halfa conclusion on her own. Danny had wanted to let Jason decide when to tell her, but that very first phone call the first words out of her mouth had been “Daniel James Fenton, have you met another halfa without telling us?”

And Danny had been so taken aback by them actually noticing anything (it was to do with ghosts, of course they’d noticed, he’d kicked himself for days after) that she’d taken his speechlessness as confirmation.

So.

They had that out of the way before they even said hi.

Despite Danny’s firm assurances that he and Jason weren’t actually dating, the papers were making the whole thing up (the photos hadn’t helped, but his dad seemed to buy that he’d been. Trying to help Jason fix his shirt. After the rogue attack, y’know), his parents had insisted on another call with Jason.

And Jazz. Because he had to introduce his sister to his new boyfriend too.

Jason had… taken it well? Hadn’t gotten much of a word in edgewise, around Jack Fenton’s boisterous laughter and insistence that he come around some time soon. He’d agreed with Danny that they definitely were not dating, which.

They weren’t.

They just weren’t.

They were just. Friends. Who hung out after classes in the evening. And texted all day. And told each other their deepest darkest soul secrets in like, a week after they’d met.

Danny’s mom had seemed a little more convinced by the end of the call, but still insisted Jason should come down to Amity Park anyway, to get to know the family.

Danny was still in denial about it being even a little bit helpful, but Jason had decided to drop the Fright Knight bomb right away. It was the actual real reason they were so close now, so it made sense as an explanation that wasn’t them being partners or whatever.

(Danny still hated it. Resented he couldn’t be trusted to just… have a friend. It always had to be something stupid and dramatic.

And he was totally offended by how immediately relieved his mom had been that he’d have someone “looking after him”. Like he wasn’t a whole ass adult for years already, and the king of a realm for longer than that.)

And now he was gonna have to call them back, and probably get a message to Fright Knight, because Danny’s newest problem was that Batman now had his phone number.

And was asking his permission to go to Amity Park to deal with the Anti-Ecto Acts.

(“Brucie Wayne” was officially the one going for the Acts, the message only said that Batman would be escorting the billionaire and gathering evidence separately, but Danny wasn’t fucking buying it.

And since Batman had his phone number and had used it, Tucker could technically get into Batman’s phone and prove it. Like Constantine showing up at Wayne Manor left a shadow of a doubt.

But noooo, Danny knew all about dramatics and billionaires and their sketchy underground labs. He could play along.)

Which, technically, might wind up solving one of his biggest problems.

It was also gonna completely ruin all the work he and Jason had done persuading the Fentons they weren’t dating; he could already hear his dad booming delightedly about meeting future in-laws. Because why else would Jason’s dad go to visit?

Not like there were actual laws on the books declaring Danny as a mandatory extermination target. Or like the Justice League might finally have gotten their thumbs out of their asses and want to check in.

Clearly Danny’s love life was the only thing that mattered.

At least he wouldn’t have to worry about that crap from Frighty; all the ghosts were gonna know all about Danny and Jason’s soul resonance (be still his beating fucking heart that was still ridiculous). He would have to let him know a superhero was gonna be in town though.

Actual ghosts weren’t likely to mistake Batman for one of their own and these days most of Danny’s rogue gallery was cool about not picking fights with humans without Fenton tech, but Danny figured better safe than sorry.

And.

Maybe.

Really wanted to see Batman and Fright Knight hang out. They were gonna totally love or totally hate each other, and either way he was a little sorry he was gonna miss it.

Unless he gave in and took time off class, kidnapped Jason from whatever work he did, and made the trip home… because he’d been direly warned that if he did show up without Jason, Jack Fenton would drive him back to Gotham personally. So, no. Nope. Not happening.

The long and the short of it was that instead of being blissfully free of his parents nagging him to visit until the summer, he was now fielding calls and texts demanding he come back home for March Break, at the latest. And bring Jason.

Mom wanted to “assess him”, which was fucking terrifying and the more Jason didn’t take it seriously the more Danny was tempted to actually make the trip. It would at least come with a defined end date. And force Jazz to take a break if she wanted to come too.

She at least had been less insistent on calling him every single day to bug him about it; probably because she was busy frying herself to death at university. She’d apologized for missing the group chat too, and the first family phone call, but it wasn’t a huge surprise.

Jazz had had the helicopter parent firmly knocked out of her by double majors, which Danny used to think was a good thing. Now he considered it might actually be a sign she was… not cracking under the pressure? But not taking care of herself.

Hopefully it wouldn’t return full force once she got some actual sleep and decent food in her.

Honestly, Danny wasn’t unaware that this was the most normal his problems had ever been. Just a few years ago he’d have done anything but wish to Desiree that his biggest problem would be “my parents think I’m dating one of my friends”.

Right now it was looking pretty good too, actually. Because at this precise second, Danny’s biggest problem was that he was running out of excuses not to talk to Nocturn.

***

Tim was beginning to think he had a bit of a crush on Tucker Foley. It was a surprise to him as much as anyone else; normally the kind of fawning adoration that tech geeks usually followed him with was an instant turn off. There was just… no point getting close to people who saw him as an idea, not a person.

And, frankly? The mere existence of Timblr probably would have been a red flag for anyone else. Sure, Tucker had closed it down, but it still existed - and Tucker Foley could have taken care of that easily.

The thing was… even under the hero worship he’d caught in Tucker’s eyes when they were first introduced… well, Tucker wasn’t exactly respectful to his heroes. That did tend to follow along with a friend in a teen hero career; everyone else was instantly less cool by association.

Tucker just plain wasn’t a good fanboy. He hung on Tim’s every word, right up until they started talking tech - the subject he most admired Tim for. Didn’t admire him enough not to cut him off half way through an explanation, call an idea “archaic”, or ask if Tim was serious.

(And okay, once or twice he hadn’t been; just testing his technical chops.)

The thing was, Tucker wasn’t only a genius with regular technology, he was a prodigy in an entirely new field of software and occult collusion, and he knew it. He was delighted to upgrade Tim’s systems (although Danny would still need to do the full ecto-infusions; Tucker could interface, but didn’t produce his own ectoplasm), and more than happy to point out everywhere they needed improving.

Tim genuinely respected his opinion, which wasn’t a distinction he gave to many people who’d never worn a cape; he’d already cc’d the other, Lucius Fox, into his and Tucker’s email chains. (Lucius was very enthusiastic about the oncoming apprenticeship - for him.)

And Tucker was funny, allergic to personal privacy, and… well, Tim was pretty sure he’d felt those first twinges when, as promised, he tagged Tucker in to help interrogate the Riddler.

Digitally, obviously. With Tucker’s classes starting back up and the New Years hangovers finally clearing the board, the next time they saw each other in person might be upsettingly far out. But Tucker had cheerfully hacked his way into Gotham PD’s systems and made himself comfortable while Red Robin and Batwoman waited for Riddler to be brought in.

Tim had so few pure pleasures in his life, but watching Kate try to keep a straight face when the interrogation room’s speakers began blasting what was essentially a stripper theme perfect for Eddie Nygma the second the door closed?

Riddler had been utterly baffled as well, talking over the beginning until they reached the chorus, where the singer practically spelled out his name. His stunned silence had given way to a burst of offended protest that was entirely undercut by the way his fingers kept time.

As the teen hero in the room, Red Robin was allowed to snicker at him, but Batwoman had to pretend to be an adult about it.

And when the first song ended, silence had fallen for what must have been a perfectly calculated fifteen seconds, and then the Jeopardy theme began playing.

Of course, soundtracking hadn’t been Tucker’s only contribution to the interrogation, just Tim’s favourite. Red Robin had the tablet from the gala back from evidence, from which Tucker had cheerfully admitted in Matrix style scrolling green text that he’d been the one back-hacking Nygma’s files… and locking him out of them.

And replacing every single link Nygma had clicked from the night of the gala to the day Batwoman hauled him in to a random page from Riddles.com, which Riddler had declared a new vendetta against every time anyone would listen. It was beautiful.

Robins were professionally annoying, it was part natural talent on all of their parts (except Damian) and part intensive training on how to disrupt thought patterns and push people into mistakes. Tucker could have led the class, and Tim had been overtaken by a powerful urge to kiss the smug grin he could feel through Tucker’s text straight off his face.

Of course, Tim had a boyfriend. And had been overtaken more than once by similar urges for almost every one of his friends, when they did something brilliant.

Steph called it oral fixation, Tim preferred positive reinforcement. Conner found the whole thing extremely funny, especially since Tucker still stumbled over his words if Conner was so much as looking at him.

Which made all of his siblings trying to tease him about Tucker’s “crush” on Tim look ridiculous, by the way. Tucker Foley was not a subtle man; he couldn’t even string a sentence together around someone he actually liked.

He could string plenty of sentences together around Tim, the two of them could finish each others’ half the time.

(He wasn’t upset about Tucker’s obvious interest in Conner either; Tim knew damn well his boyfriend was an incredible catch and he was lucky to have him. Tucker’s crush was just… peer review.)

Already he was counting down the days until March Break, when Tucker was going to visit in person again. Honestly, he might push to get a zeta put in nearer to MIT in the meantime.

It wasn’t like the institute was never targeted by supervillains, it would just be practical.

But Tim himself couldn’t suggest that now, because then all of his siblings would jump on the Tucker thing and he’d never hear the end of it. It was a dilemma… because even if Conner or Danny could just go and pick him up again, zeta was just faster.

It had nothing to do with missing time that Conner and Tucker were bonding, or being a puppy waiting for his master to come home, whatever Steph said.

(And honestly, Tucker Foley? Not exactly commanding “master” material. Until he was talking about his area of expertise. Then he was certain and confident and got this really attractive gleam in his eye…)

The quickest solution would be getting all of Team Phantom officially involved in the Justice League, of course. Then he wouldn’t even need to suggest it; close zeta access was vital for all of the heroes.

But Team Phantom couldn’t join the League until Phantom’s existence was no longer illegal. So they had to dismantle the Anti Ecto Acts. Bruce was investigating the GIW, and planning what he probably thought was a secret trip to Amity Park, but none of it was happening fast enough for Tim… because it probably wouldn’t be done by March Break. In two months.

He’d broken more than just the American government in two months; all it took was the right leverage. And a complete lack of self restraint.

So, y’know, Tim had a new side project in and around his other Gotham cases. All he needed was a house and then senate majority, and they could get those laws repealed the second the government came back from break.

Lois Lane was already working on the story, Clark would probably join Bruce in Amity Park (whether he knew Bruce was there or not) for interviews. There was only so much public pressure could do though, and that never worked fast enough either.

Not compared to Tim’s preferred methods. He liked the personal touch.

****

Fun fact, slower core formation? Had not meant slower ghost powers. Not in Jason’s case, anyway; not even a week after his core came in, a coffee cup had slipped straight through his hand and shattered on the floor.

He’d stopped handling Alfred’s good china that day, mindful of Danny’s many horror stories about the school lab’s glassware. Alfred hadn’t actually questioned it, although he’d gotten a couple of raised eyebrows when he slid a junk mug toward the kettle.

It was just a good thing he’d already cut down patrolling; he’d been planning to take a step back anyway for a while. Just until he got the balance right between being Red Hood and the newly resurrected Jason Todd.

He’d had to stop entirely, at least until he got the intangibility under control. Sure, becoming temporarily impervious to weapons would be convenient when he got to choose when it switched off or on. Phasing various limbs half way through solid surfaces and getting stuck though?

No.

Not a chance in Hell. That was not an acceptable risk.

Invisibility had started not long after, which had definitely complicated his trips to the manor; all the bats were good, but vanishing completely out of the blue? That would raise comment.

The good news was that the glacierfrost seemed to be helping there too; either because of the ecto in the ice, or just keeping his emotions regulated, which kept the powers from acting up. Jason wasn’t taking unnecessary risks, but he’d noticed that for at least a couple hours after a hit, he was in more control.

Intentionally turning the powers on was still a struggle, but apparently that’d just get better with time. And probably fighting - that was the common denominator under all his ghost problems.

Ghost Fight Club was officially starting the second he’d got the transformation down, but how exactly they were going to try and trigger that in a controlled environment was still… less clear than Jason would like.

They’d have to work it out soon though; the only other ability that was likely to kick in before he could transform was flight, according to Danny. Time was a-tickin’.

And… alright. It wasn’t like Jason was sat at home every night; that was what he and Danny were doing after school now that they’d cut back to at least a couple days a week. A little practice on budding ghost powers, with backup.

“Surveying his haunt” was what Danny called it, but it basically meant Danny going ghost and Jason putting on a domino he claimed he borrowed from Dick, and the two of them bouncing around the Alley. And occasionally Danny pushing him off roofs to see if flight had kicked in yet.

(It hadn’t, but he still had his grapples, and refused to let Danny rescue him from his own bullshit.)

Sensing the city’s natural ecto had gotten much easier with his core fully developed, and Danny was teaching him how to mark it with his own. Pitty’s ongoing corruption was fucking it up though; it was still producing corrupted ectoplasm, and actually more of it now that they were both whole.

(Jason had started sleeping with Frostbite’s ghost succulent next to his pillow. That was how he’d noticed the new blue glow, which he still meant to ask about. It was still firm and strong, and it… didn’t feel sick?)

Corrupted ecto reeked so strongly of that corruption that it was completely useless for anything else, apparently. So until they finally finished purging Pitty, what all their little adventures actually amounted to was tagging.

Danny made them special ecto-spray-paint, and they spent the nights finding weirder and weirder corners to spray a little mark onto. Jason would have liked to use something to do with Red Hood, for the symmetry, but. Well. He hadn’t worked out how to have that conversation yet.

He’d been making do with little ghost doodles. It had been years since he’d done any real graffiti art, but it was like riding a bike, and the ecto sprayed really well. A cartoon ghost wasn’t all that hard anyway; an elongated little blob, occasionally with little fangs or unattached clawed hands.

He’d been going for something like an Among Us bean, but Danny had declared that he was drawing Pitty, and well… it stuck. Doodling little Pit ghosts was the order of the day, ranging from cute little Pittys (modelling good behaviour, Danny called it) or vicious little bastards, depending on how both Jason and Pitty had been that day.

Because that was definitely one piece of good news, in with all the bullshit new ghost powers was causing. Before he’d felt surges of rage, the moments where the Pit was reaching out and trying to affect him. Universally bad, aggressive, and violent, pre-Danny.

He could kinda feel it all the time now, like a heated scarf draped over his body, or the constant breathing of a dog just behind his ear. It was quiet mostly, and he was beginning to suspect it had cost more energy than he’d ever expected for it to reach out to him at all.

For all that he’d worried about it being too much like raising a kid, it… well, the nice way to say it was probably that it wasn’t that bright. It could talk to him in ghostspeak, kind of; most of what he actually heard felt like emotional reactions, closer to speaking through auras than words despite how much it’d felt like it was crawling up his throat.

The Pit could handle basic concepts, recognised Danny’s name, but other than that? It mostly seemed to follow Jason’s emotional lead… and then dial it up to eleven. Which, yeah, was exactly what he’d been scared of when he thought it might be like, a whole ass person. Toddlers were terrifying little sponges.

Jason’s experience of kids wasn’t exactly what he’d call normal, sure, but Pitty was reminding him less of a kid and more and more of some kind of small and bitey animal.

Which, y’know, was a relief. Sort of. It wasn’t like he could fuck up an animal in the same way as he could a kid. Nowhere near the same level of responsibility.

Just. When he thought about the pit rage, the idea of it being attached to something which literally had fangs and claws was not exactly reassuring. Even at the size of a chihuahua.

A little impromptu art therapy while they marked his haunt wasn’t exactly helping with that part, but it wasn’t hurting. And he was trying to explain that feeling bad was not actually dangerous or harmful… via spray paint.

He was only about 70% sure that Pitty could see.

But it got him out and about, kept him in shape at least for swinging from roof tops, and gave him an excuse to hang out with Danny. It did involve actively avoiding anything he’d normally investigate (at least until he had a reasonable explanation… or brought up the Red Hood thing)… but it felt good. It was soothing.

Even knowing full well he’d made plans, prepared extensively, still had his guys making sure the Alley was safe and all was well, he still found himself itching to patrol on the nights he stayed in.

He could only assume that was part of the whole Haunt thing; he had good people working under him, and a couple of bright lieutenants that while he’d never let them wear the hood, he was comfortable giving them some solo enforcement missions to keep the fear of Red Hood in everyone’s hearts. All relevant parties, anyway.

Luckily he still had the library project as a convenient excuse for the bats. It kept them off his ass, and Jason could admit that it probably wouldn’t have taken much to persuade him to take a night run.

And get his ass stuck half way through some fucking wall somewhere, or lose a foot to a rooftop, and need to break himself free or call Danny in the fucking suit. Nope.

(He’d been tempted to let his family think he was saving his nights for Danny, which wasn’t even completely untrue; Danny wasn’t over every night anymore, not with his school schedule, but if he wasn’t over they texted.

Jason had begun saving a meme folder just for things to show Danny, which had quickly absorbed his full folder for death jokes and just kept going. Danny was going to be a very supportive “father” for their fake pit-kid, and had clearly been stockpiling dad jokes to send back.)

Honestly though, Jason was just relieved he’d already planned to slow the vigilante side for a while in the wake of his official revival; there was a lot that had to be done to come back from the dead, and a lot more he could do with official Wayne backing for areas of Crime Alley that Hood couldn’t touch.

He’d even let some of the bats in on those plans before Danny showed up; it wasn’t a surprise that he wasn’t patrolling. They were mostly leaving him alone about it, although Dick had offered to pop his Red Hood gear on and run a couple of patrols if things got too rowdy.

Jason had told him to fuck off, then got his street kids spreading the rumour that Hood was gearing up for something big. Let people think that the momentary quiet was just the first rumbles for an oncoming storm.

Hell, let them think Hood was in cahoots with Jason Todd-Wayne; that or preparing to run him out of the Alley. Let both of his lives work together for a while. The rumours shut half the fucking low-level dealers up; no one was pushing anything within three blocks of his territory, in case Hood was planning an expansion.

That’d boil over after a while and bite him in the ass if he didn’t go and kick something down, but for now it worked. He had so much to do for the library, for the new shelters from the Wayne foundation, for the soup kitchens. He actually was pretty busy, even on his nights in.

Fuck, he’d even taken time to hang out with the actual Alley kids, as Jason and Hood. The mouthy little shits kept him grounded, and maybe he’d tried it as a trial run for Pitty, but since that wasn’t gonna be the same problem he’d kept it up as a test of his own patience.

Which had. Very abruptly. Become the cause of one of his biggest concerns. Because the biggest change since his core came in had actually taken him a couple more days to notice.

Because now, Jason could see the fingerprints of the new entity.

That hadn’t been fun to work out; he’d been intentionally taking it slow until his core formed. Part of him had been sorta hoping to be able to just avoid anything that might set them both off until the Pit was ready to pop out on its own. Nothing related to the new case he couldn’t start, nothing related to the Joker or pits or any of that shit.

So when some of the kids had been showing up with some weird shadowy smudge on their clothes, he’d assumed it was the usual Gotham grime. They claimed not to see it, he threw them at the laundry room and cussed them out, it always came off.

Now the Curse, the Curse was staying out of Crime Alley entirely. He’d seen it during the day once or twice, a shadow attached where it shouldn’t be, a flicker over Damian or Tim’s shoulder. He always knew when the Curse was around now, a frosty fog filled his lungs whenever it was close.

(Danny had called it his “ghost sense”, which was lame but Jason didn’t have a better idea.)

And those smudges didn’t have the same kind of ozone-aftertaste that the Curse left in his mouth.

And then one of his girls, maybe seven years old, had come in with that same kind of smeared shadow sticking through soft black hair. He’d had some sharp fucking words with the older kids about that, he didn’t expect them to stay pristine at all times, but for fucks sake it was clumping.

Basic hygiene fucking mattered on the street, none of them could afford a proper de-matting or even a decent razor to shave their heads, so Jason had instilled the importance of bare-minimum finger combing in every one of them years ago. You could live with a fucking rug dragging at your skull, but it made absolutely everything harder.

He’d sat the girl on a stool and washed her hair in a bucket himself, while repeating the same fucking lecture to the other girls. Noticed half way through that while the sticky shit was indeed washing out of her hair, it wasn’t being broken down by the soap.

It was clinging to him instead, seeping into the creases of his fingers and under his nails. He’d tried not to visibly react, giving her a last rinse and wrapping her hair in a towel-hat that she didn’t stop touching for the next forty minutes, fucking it up a dozen times.

The smudgy crap had washed off his hands eventually, but when he saw Danny the next day he’d visibly backed up a few steps, then given Jason about six shots of ecto because his was apparently rancid again. No prizes for spotting the connection, and from there it was obvious.

And then he’d seen Harley the next day, that same smudgy crap a handprint around her fucking throat, and he’d seen red. Hot, angry, blood red, and it not being green had startled the life out of him.

(Harley noticed. Duh. It was her thing. And while Jason couldn’t just tell her some malevolent fucking entity made from her shitty ex was crawling through the city, he’d been as honest as he could be.

Harley definitely couldn’t see the smudges. Danny hadn’t had any answers or way to make it stop fucking touching people.)

Hypothetically, this was all gonna be good in the end. It’d make things easier, being able to see and track this shitstain’s work.

It did not feature in his “don’t get pissed off or think about work” plan.

It was just faintly possible that obsession, self flagellation, and a desire to be personally responsible for fucking everything might be more than just Bruce’s problem. Could maybe be a family affair.

Jason made more pies. Occasionally narrating what he was doing aloud, half for Pitty’s benefit and half for Danny’s when the little shit was crashing on his couch.

It was fine. He was coping. Another couple weeks, Danny reckoned, and Pitty would be out of his body and he could get back to his fucking life.

With a pet Pit ghost in tow, apparently, but if the worst came to the worst he could fucking soup the thing once it was outside him.

(He was also going to teach Danny to make soup. Proper soup. On principle.)

Preparing for his trip to Amity Park had taken longer than Bruce had expected. Not least because Alfred had finally run out of patience, and sentenced him to bedrest for the next 12 hours after he returned from the Justice League meeting lest he unlock the tranquilizer guns and give his children free reign.

In the old days, when he’d just become Batman, Bruce had assumed Alfred would never be able to catch him anyway. He’d been cocky and confident in his skills, and often ignored Alfred’s demands.

And yet the man always seemed to know, raising a disapproving eyebrow at Bruce every time he’d slipped back into the room just before Alfred made his rounds.

And then Steph came into his life, and Bruce learned all too fast that Alfred had merely been waiting for appropriate safeguards. That was three kids along of course, but by now Bruce knew exactly why it had been Steph Alfred had waited for.

His relationship with Dick was too tumultuous. While Dick never feared Bruce and was perfectly happy to join Alfred in nagging and bossing him around, by the time Dick moved out Bruce had half expected to only see his son at Justice League meetings, if at all.

They were different men, and Dick had always had an anger in him that Bruce couldn’t fathom. He’d mastered it, his control very rarely slipping, but… Bruce had trained Dick himself, and he was one of a very short list of people that Bruce had no concrete backup plan for.

Nothing but hope to make him cocky with the first attack, and pray the second caught him off guard.

His relationship with Dick hadn’t improved until Tim came into his life… and helped him get his head out of his ass.

Jason? Jason had been an angel. A scruffy, beaten down angel with badly bruised wings when Bruce first picked him up, but he’d flourished in Wayne Manor. He’d taken to Robin with joy and enthusiasm, but had more devotion to his studies than any of Bruce’s kids before or since.

He’d even stay in to study for tests, and if things had been different… perhaps he’d have been the one to break Bruce’s obsession with his night life.

But Bruce had begun taking that good heart for granted, pushed when he should have listened, and sent Jason to his death.

Tim had a hard enough time keeping Bruce from killing himself, along with anyone who stood in the way of his mission. He was a solemn, serious little boy from the start, and though Dick took a more active role this time around and declared himself a big brother (possibly to spite Bruce)… well.

It had to be Steph.

Steph, who would vehemently deny being one of his from whoa to go, was just like all of his children; a feral little gremlin. But Steph had that one more element too, the one which young Dick had had in spades but pulled back from with Bruce years before.

Steph liked to have fun.

Tim treated Bruce as a mission just as much as Gotham was Bruce’s, and Dick had never forgiven him for Jason. Or the fights that went before. Neither could pick up a Nerf gun and hunt him through the city in pure play in those days.

Until Steph gave them the guns, of course. Now any and every one of his children would happily take a tranq gun from Alfred and merrily stalk him through the manor and city at large, and even to the Watchtower if he tempted fate (and Tim).

Bruce was powerless against them, although pride warred with frustration every single time one of them managed to drug him to sleep. He’d trained them well. Well enough that they’d put what was right over what he wanted, that none of them were even a little afraid of him.

He’d planted the seeds of his own destruction.

So when he’d seen Duke and Dick hanging “casually” around the halls while Alfred escorted him to bed, he’d resigned himself to twelve hours of rest.

He’d slept for sixteen. And woke feeling much better, to his own chagrin. His head felt clearer, the migraine almost gone, and the sudden swoops of nausea had finally begun to pass.

He still had odd moments, especially when he’d been on the computer planning the trip to Amity Park for too long, but he’d reluctantly agreed with Alfred. He needed to fully recover from his concussion; that meant rest. And taking days and weeks instead of hours.

Amity Park would still be there, after all. He couldn’t get back the years they’d been late. He’d had to concede another two weeks.

Zatanna had also demanded an explanation for why he was suddenly interested in the town - luckily the Anti-Ecto Acts provided a sufficient cover. They were even most of the reason he was going.

She could also see the gravity of the situation, and offered to put him in touch with some local specialists who claimed to have tech that would keep him from being possessed. Specialists named “Fenton”. Because of course they were.

She’d offered him a ward as well, but mostly in jest. She knew how Bruce felt about magic, and had told him science was on the table almost immediately.

Bruce knew full well it wasn’t a coincidence. Formerly regarded as quacks, the Fentons had been featured prominently in all of their Amity Park news sources. Usually as menaces and a hazard to society, which aligned with what the Mansons had told him.

Still, their actions had nothing to do with the character of their son. Danny Phantom had been Amity Park’s protector for six years, although he’d not had many serious ghosts to fight for the last three.

As Foley had claimed, the ghosts seemed to have settled into a status of local nuisance that was oddly aligned with the Fentons senior; loud, intrusive, and often an inconvenience to your day, but not the threats to life, limb, or infrastructure that had characterised the first years after the portal opened.

Amity Park’s general consensus seemed to be that Danny Phantom had tamed the ghosts, won over the Fentons, and quite efficiently saved the day. He hadn’t been sighted there much in the past year, but that was because he’d been in Gotham.

In school. Finally being able to study and look towards his future.

His main heroic endeavours in the last three years of his career had involved the same GIW, the Ghost Investigation Ward that Foley had told Tim about. They unfortunately had not followed the general trend of de-escalation… although they had been rather subdued in the last year.

It felt different to Bruce, though. Incidents were less frequent, but those occurrences where they did find a ghost had become markedly more violent. The decreased frequency seemed to have lulled the townsfolk into believing they were also less of a threat, but the problem with pushing your enemies into a corner was how much more dangerous a cornered animal became.

There was something worrying happening with the GIW, that would have borne looking into even if he wasn’t also looking to understand Danny better. Preparing everything he’d need for the official investigation was most of what had slowed him down.

Of course, he was going to Amity Park as Brucie Wayne, not as Batman. Vlad Masters’ friendship was going to help him there; the man had been delighted to invite him down for the weekend when Bruce had reached out.

A little faked enthusiasm for football and interest in Vlad’s favourite team and he was a seemingly completely open book. He was more than happy to give Brucie the grand tour of his little town, and even promised a personal escort from the airport.

Bruce was beginning to suspect that getting away from the man might be more of a challenge, although he was another potentially useful source of information on the Amity Park situation.

Not that Masters was a particularly high priority source. But Bruce could admit he may have been hasty to dismiss his views on Danny as being biased, and as mayor he should know something about the GIW operations in his city… and given how many contracts with the agency could be traced back to his companies in the early days of the agency’s formations, he would be a much more serious subject for investigation than a source.

The good news was, everything was now in place. He had Danny’s permission and would be flying down to Amity Park in a matter of hours, and had already bought out the entire top floor of a local hotel, so he should have plenty of privacy to operate from.

With any luck, being able to set things in motion to repeal the Anti-Ecto Acts could also be a first step towards patching things up with Jason… and with Danny. No matter what conclusions Bruce came to in Amity Park, the Justice League owed Danny Phantom a serious apology, and the Infinite Realms some swift action.

Their negligence could have sparked an inter-dimensional war, and nearly had cost a young man his future. Bruce was self aware enough to admit that the guilt of that knowledge was a major factor in why he hadn’t spoken to Danny face to face again.

Yet.

At least Danny had given him permission to visit and explore his haunt. That had to count for something.

He was going to apologize. Probably after giving Jason the proper apology his son so richly deserved. Perhaps Jason would even be willing to help him work out how to properly apologize to Danny too; Bruce wasn’t good at apologies at the very best of times, but Harley had made it explicitly clear that he was going to be getting in a lot of practice.

Now, ya can call Harley Quinn a lot of things (and people definitely have), but one thing she ain’t despite the goofball act? Stupid.

Somethin’ was up in Gotham, somethin’ one heck of a lot weirder than all the weird shit that had marked her time in the city.

Oh, she’d gone an’ had another word with Brucie after Waylon told her how Jason’d had to leave through the roof after his talk with Constantine.

(She’d hunt Johnny-boy down later too, probably just after he decided she wasn’t gonna come for ‘im and stopped hiding, but odds on? Brucie’s fault, and Connie was just his unfortunate messenger.)

The thing was, he’d decided to sicc Johnny on poor Jason before they’d had their little talk, so by the time she caught him again he was already all downcast and shamefaced. Already admitting he done fucked up.

And it just wasn’t satisfyin’ to kick him while he was down, an’ while he was already tryin’. He’d even decided on his own to leave both boys alone for now, to let things cool down before tryin’ again.

Now, Mama Quinzel didn’t raise no dummy, she could see a million ways ol’ Brucie’s plan to go and try an’ fix Amity Park for Danny was gonna go wrong. But she wasn’t an expert at this ghost business, so she didn’t pretend to be.

She did exactly what she’d told Brucie to do; consulted an actual expert.

She asked Sammy and Jazzy, Danny’s big sis who was just a real darlin’, in their group chat (which had been popping off since Sammy was a lil sweetheart and set it up for ‘em; Jazzy-boo was of doin’ all kinds of neurological shit but she’d read some psych textbooks in her day, and Harley loved watching a self taught student grow). An’ then she hunted down Jason and Danny, to ask ‘em directly.

Which had been when she’d got her first clue that somethin’ was up; when Jason looked at her like she was still wearin’ a certain other clown’s paint, all stiff and locked up and full of anger.

See, that’d happened before. When they first met, him fresh outta the grave, her fresh outta Hell. When he’d asked if she and Joker were really through, an’ she’d told him hell yeah.

When he’d asked if she’d get in his way of killing the asshole.

That anger, all tight an’ tense an’ burstin’ had been wrapped around his throat then, chokin’ him on it. It was cooler now, more human, more like somethin’ the sweet lil sunshine child who could melt her heart with his tears could feel.

It still wasn’t, ya’know, in the vague vicinity of healthy, but she’d seen Jason Todd about to lose his shit before. An’ his hands shook when he touched her, when he asked what the hell she’d done to her neck.

Harley’d taken a good long look in several bathroom mirrors since. There was nothin’ she could see there, but Harley Quinn had been a short term guest in more than one Hell. There was plenty of shit she was all too happy not ta see.

Then there was ol’ Harvey. She’d run him down faster’n the bats, because she wasn’t also chasin’ Riddler, Great White Shark, at least three new plots from ol’ Pengy, or a suspiciously quiet and freshly escaped Scarecrow.

Two-Face had been all quiet an’ polite since his heist on the young Mr Todd’s party went tits up, so he’d flown under their radar.

Not hers.

Harley always made time for her old friends.

And Harvey had been weird too. Twitchy, on edge, jumpin’ at shadows. That happened if he thought the ol’ Bat was after ‘im, but he’d had no reason to think that. An’ for all he’d flipped his little coin and played up the bit, Harley knew when her friends were off.

Something had put Harvey on edge. Stuffed a bee up his ass and made him all snappy.

He’d even tried to pull a gun! On her! His sweet, darlin’, perfectly loveable and innocent Harleen!

So, ya’know, when she’d touched ground again an’ he’d run outta bullets, she’d knocked it outta his hands before he could reload and reminded him there were more than just Bats to fear. There was also her bat.

An’ by the time they were both all tired out and slumped against each other to order smoothies, he’d admitted he didn’t know why he’d decided to go fer young Jason. To attack their buddy Brucie’s boy.

Now, Harley wasn’t sure Harvey knew silly ol’ Brucie was the Big Bad Bat. She suspected he did, somewhere, in the part of him he hid from all the unpleasantness.

If he knew, he was repressin’ it real deep.

But he’d seen word of the gala, an’ something inside him went dark, and he’d flipped a coin. Got all sorts of plastic explosive of all things ready to really give Gotham a show they wouldn’t forget.

An’ then when it was time to roll out, nunna his cars’d start. An’ he’d flipped the coin again. And stayed home.

She snagged the detonators on his explosives on the way out, on principle. There were some rules after all, and while the Bats could certainly handle anythin’ ol’ Harvey could build, he shouldn’a shot at her.

Harley Quinn was officially out of the rogue game, but that had nothin’ ta do with shit disturbing. She was beginning to wonder though.

Somethin’ was weird in Gotham, a kinda energy in the streets that wasn’t the same black stubbornness she’d known and loved. Somethin’ that felt a little nastier. A little closer to biting.

Now, Harley Quinn was a lotta things. She also wasn’t a lotta the things everyone else thought she was.

She was no quitter. She was no fool. She was no coward to turn tail from some nasty vibes. She might still be a teensy weensy bit mentally disturbed, as you say, but she had her shit together.

An’ she knew when somethin’ else was tryin’ ta play with her head.

Much as she loved Gotham like a second home, she was beginnin’ ta wonder if she shouldn’t head back to Pammy an’ let their mystery of who was givin’ Coney Island a hard time sit with the Bats.

——————

The song Tucker’s playing for Tim and Nygma is here:

Tag List - @welcometosasakiworld @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence e @skitscratched @blackroserelina a @snoodly-boop @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin n @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 7 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson n @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this s @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel @honeysuckletook @adorkable1291

IMPORTANT NOTE! Since about half the tag list no longer links to a blog, I will probably be retiring it for chapter 20, so either comment and let me know you still wanna be on it, or proceed on over to AO3 for alerts!

Part two:

#dfdali #danny fenton dead and loving it #dead on main ship #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #chapter 19 part 1 #the finished core

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withonly-sweetheart · 1 month

Text

Not Quite Right

You're Leon's mystery, he's your mystery. He defends your honor without hesitation, but being around you has him questioning his own morals.

a/n: k personally i didnt deliver with this one i kinda sold but im some kinda block rn needed tk get smth done 🤨😔 (useless core) might rewrite later if ive got inspo

there IS a part two with both a happy and sad ending because i cant let sadness take over but i also just read "if he had been with me" and so yeah ill update this with the links when i post those

tw: angst?? age gap if you squint really hard and look between the lines but nun too serious (theres also suggestive content but wtv)

" if you couldnt tell

they said teamwork makes the dream work

hell i had some help "

wc: 1.8k

The saloon was always bathed in a hazy lemon glow, glaring back at Leon’s squinted eyes as the sawdust kicks up under his boot heels. He peels away from the rowdy crowd and nods to the barkeep for another whiskey. He never really was able to read the small, messy names of absurd drinks scrawled onto the curling paper.

Groaning in frustration, he slams it down, digging his nails into the yellowing parchment. Across the table, he catches your eye, specifically those of which narrow directly at him.

Leon admires your uniform; short, tight-fitted burnt hazel dress. It’s always been ugly to him, but you look… ravishing in it, though his eyes are cool as they flit your way.

And he realizes something else, snapping through his mind rapid-fire.

No one looks at him like that and gets away with it.

“Another round?” he calls out as you saunter past. You eye him sideways but say nothing, shifting your stance at the regulars’ raucous shouts. Not the slightest bit bothered, Leon presses, “Looks like you know your men.”

“Is that so?” you smile, knowingly. “Well, I know that folks say you’ve been ‘passing through’ a while.”

Leon chuckled. “And what do folks say about you?”

“That I know things.”

Intrigued, Leon leans forward. “And what do you know?”

You lean in as well, voice low and intimate. “I know a desperate man when I see one. What are you running from, cowboy?”

“What do you think?”

“That you’re a no-account drifter always poking your nose where it don’t belong.”

Leon chuckles, tilting his hat to adjust to the sudden shift in light. “Reckon I’ll be poking around a while longer then.”

You consider him a long moment. Strangely, Leon wishes he knew what you were thinking. “We’ll see, cowboy. We’ll see.”

Leon smiles. "And what do you suppose that means, miss?"

You chuckle drily. "I’m sure you know exactly what I mean, sir.” And with that vague answer, you turn away, step away, linger in front of him for a moment longer before sauntering away, leaving him with pink ears and flustered thoughts.

If it were anyone else, Leon would’ve been irked. But something about you is different. He doesn’t know why, in a town full of women who adore him, you’re the one to entrance him. He also doesn’t know why instead of pushing you further away, he wants to get closer, unravel your mind like tangled yarn.

So when he walks in the next week, he sits in his regular seat and raises his hand, already spotting you swaying to the music in the back. He knows you see his curled fingers first, before you zero in on his face and the corner of your mouth lifts.

"You seem to have me all figured out." Leon says as you walk past, one hand balancing the drinks on a tray. He tilts his head, studying you curiously. "You’ve done your homework, haven’t you, sweetheart?”

"I sure have,” you reply with a slow, lazy smile, leaning over the counter so only he can hear. “It might come as a shock, but I actually might be using my senses.” You lean away, completely unaware of the effect your husky voice has on him.

He blinks once, twice, before a broad grin spreads across his face. “Well…”

“I’ve got your regular?” you offer, twisting over your shoulder to check the drinks. “On the house?”

“That’s my girl,” he praises as you hand him the cool glass, somewhat back to normal. But your words linger in his mind for an indefinite amount of time. Everywhere, anywhere, whoever’s talking, he wishes it was you whispering weakly into his ear.

Especially when he comes in, as if on a schedule, the next week. His eyes are on you but his thoughts elsewhere, his senses stepping in, flashing warning signs and ringing sirens in his head.

He watches you walk past a group of men he usually sees at this particular bar, in that spot, assuming they’re regulars. What really messes with his temper is when one of them whistles appreciatively and all their eyes immediately switch from your face to a lower area.

“Pay them no mind,” you say dismissively, snapping him out of his trance. “This town has its share of fools.”

Leon pretends to glance you over before returning his stern gaze to them, recognizing one of the rowdy patrons. “Like him?”

The man catches his eye and scowls. “You got something to say, drifter?”

Leon turns back to you with a roguish smile. “Reckon it’s time I shut them fools up, what do you say?”

You sigh resignedly. “Just try not to get yourself killed.”

<><><>

You perk up at the sound you already recognize as his boots shuffling across the wooden planks. You glance back down at the drink in your hands, slightly warmer than usual because he returned so late.

When he excused himself a few hours ago, you assumed he had work to take care of. He always came back, anyways, so why bother yourself with the details when you knew that if he wanted you to know, he would’ve told you.

“Well, where have you been-” You immediately stop talking at his appearance. Blood drips down the side of his face, staining the stubble he’s been steadily growing, trickling down his neck. A bruise lines his jawline, maroon and vivid against his pale skin. He staggers over to you, slumping onto a stool, an awkward lean to the right the only sign of his pain.

“Is that mine?” he rasps, reaching for the drink.

“Kennedy!” you exclaim, gesturing to his state and yanking the glass away from his outstretched hands. “What did you get into?”

“Nothin’.” But you hear the sharp inhale he takes before continuing, “Now, did you get all this ready for me?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, gripping your glass tighter, slightly concerned.

“Use your words,” he chides. And now you aren’t concerned as much.

God, he makes you feel so stupid.

“Yes,” you grit out, struggling to be heard against the bustling crowd.

“How ‘bout this?” Leon hums, not waiting for your answer. “Drinks are on me.”

You can’t help but let a smirk tug at the corner of your lips. “Yeah? Anything I want?”

“For a pretty little thing like you, yeah,” he muses, fully turning to face you. You get a better look at his soft, baby blue eyes, fluffy, sandy hair, the way the ivory lights cast shadows across the planes of his face.

“How about not getting into fights?” you joke. He arches an eyebrow as you pass him napkins. He smears the blood across his chin, right under his lips. You can’t help but stare as he tosses his head back to swallow the drink, imagining the liquid burning his throat. “Did you actually fight that guy? You know I was just jokin’ right?”

Leon rasps something you don’t hear, eyes glazed over. “This… is different. What’d you put in it this time, sugar?”

“Just somethin’ special,” you respond vaguely. “Thought you’d like it.”

“Tastes like shit,” he comments, gingerly pushing the glass away. “What, you going around assuming everyone likes what you like?”

“Last guy did,” you mumble, slightly dejected that he didn’t take well to your concoction. To be fair, you did mess up the first guy’s order, mistaking his single for a double and decided it wouldn’t bother Leon if you got him a different drink, right?

“Last guy’s taste ain’t mine,” he says simply, humming in compliance. You wonder exactly what happened on the way here, why he shows up every week without fail. “Tastes stronger than usual.”

“Can’t handle your drinks?” you jab, the corner of your mouth lifting. It’s always amusing to you when you watch a guy stumble out of the bar, so affected by something you made. It sent a feeling of power rushing to your head, like you could potentially control everyone here.

Or more specifically, the one person you wanted wrapped around your finger.

Leon.

So what if you kept him coming back, glancing up at him every time he left, silently begging him to stay for one more drink? You grew up learning that if you wanted something, you had to work for it.

“I can handle anything,” he slurs, words connecting themselves to the sounds he makes, small purrs escaping his throat and going straight to your head. “It’s just… heavy…”

“Heavy?” You chuckle. “Right.”

“What’d you put in this?” he repeats.

“Just the scotch.” Leon immediately snaps up.

“You know I can’t-”

“Can’t what, Leon? Because you know what I sure can’t do?” His surprised and somewhat curious expression spurs you on. “I can’t sit here and pretend that there’s nothing between us, keep you coming back here every week and have you leave me on the other end of your string.”

You poke him square in his upper chest, digging your finger into the little dip between his collarbones. “And although all the other girls you take to bed can handle that, I sure can’t.”

“I’m… leaving you, sweetheart?” Leon chuckles dryly. “As far as I can tell, you’re the one walking away from me.”

“You walk in here and call me your pretty thing, then leave like it’s nothing!”

“My pretty thing?” The swinging lights dance across Leon's face as he turns, searching my gaze as if seeing new things.

“How much longer? This isn’t how you treat-” In the midst of your rambling, something switches in the air between you and Leon grabs the side of your face, leaning forward, eyes defiant yet demanding.

Quicker than the setting sun through hot summer dusks, he bends his head until your breath mingles, hot and sweet.

And when his lips meet yours, they taste sweeter than you expect, fuller than you see on the outside, like you’re tasting what you can’t see. At the touch of his other hand cupping your head, your doubts slip away.

He doesn’t need words to tell you what his pride had kept tied up tight before. You hear yourself make a sound of protest as he pulls away, suddenly, harshly, eyes shadowed by… regret?

“I… shouldn’t have… shit,” he seethes under his breath. Leon pushes back from the table, the legs of his stool grating against the wooden planks. His brows are knitted tight, like he’s wrestling some demon you can’t see.

You reach for him again but he flinches away, not meeting your imploring gaze. You realize it’s like looking at a stranger wearing Leon's face.

The thought wrenches your heart, so desperately, you plead, “Don’t go. Please. Stay. What do you need to say?”

“I… need to go,” he says, voice trembling. “This was wrong…”

"Don't do this," you beg, hating the tremor in your voice but powerless to still it. Weeks of yearning lead to one perfect moment, shattered before your eyes.

"I'm sorry." The words break on Leon's tongue like he doesn’t mean much to them. He backs towards the door, unraveling with every step while you watch, helpless.

Moonlight throws his anguished profile into sharp relief as you plead, "Stay. Tell me what's got your hackles up, cowboy."

But Leon only shakes his head, hands drawn tight. "You know this won’t work. Us… we can’t."

The words land like blows, stealing your breath. You stagger after him onto the porch, heart cracking down the middle at the distance in his eyes.

"You're running scared is all." Your own voice sounds small and far away. By the set of Leon's shoulders, you know this was a battle you've already lost. “You think you’re not the right one.”

“That’s it,” he says, eyes crinkling at the corner with his smile. “Atta girl.”

“Why?” you insist. “If the shit between us is mutual-”

“Because you’ve got your whole life in front of you, girl!” he says, exasperatedly. “I’ll just fuck everything up for you.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he cuts you off, voice final. But you can hear how it hurts him too. “I’m not heartless. I’ve got a conscience, and as much as it eats away at me, I won’t let it have this one too.” His dull eyes find yours. “I won’t let it have you, too.”

He pauses at the top of the stairs, silhouetted against the inky sky. When he turns, there’s no trace of warmth left in his smile. "Take care of yourself, sweet girl."

Then he’s gone, swallowed up by the dark. You sink onto the creaking steps, tasting tears and the agony of loss, the stars uncaring as they sparkle down at you.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil #writing #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy cowboy #cowboy leon

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existslikepristin · 9 months

Text

Okay, so I've done a couple of rewrites now, and I don't think I'm going to ever be fully happy with this, so let's just fuckin post this bad bitch

Tags: NSFW, TheLounge, Sounds, Dreamcatcher, Itzy, Gahyeon, Yuna, first times, but let’s be real virginity is a social construct that means nothing about someone’s physical state of being, #LearnHowTheHymenWorks, cunnilingin' n' fingrin', nervousness, not even the normal kind of brattiness, Yuna’s just an insufferable idiot, no anal in this one wtf am i thinking?

Off to a Slow Start

~~~~~

Gahyeon rubbed the stress out of her eyes. Or at least she tried to. The skinny, shivering girl draped over her lap was turning out to be a pain in Gahyeon’s ass (instead of the other way around, as it should have been).

“How about we do something else?” Gahyeon asked with a tone somewhere between hopeful and commanding.

“W-what? Why? I’m f-fine. This is s-so hot,” Yuna peeped. Sort of. It was more like she sobbed it like an emotionally damaged puppy might.

It was quite the shocking change in attitude after only two warm up spanks. Yuna’s butt wasn’t even pink.

Downstairs, when she first stomped up to Gahyeon, Yuna had been acting like she was hot shit. She put her hand on Gahyeon’s thigh, played footsie under the table, talked out of her throat like some kind of pornstar wannabe. It came as no surprise, then, when Yuna suggested that Gahyeon accompany her upstairs and "teach [her] a lesson." The part that was actually a surprise was when Gahyeon realized: when Yuna said “teach [her] a lesson,” she might have meant that very literally, because it was pretty obvious she didn’t know what she was getting herself into.

Gahyeon caught Yuna’s glistening eye in a decorative mirror on the wall and raised her hand as if to strike again. Never before had Gahyeon seen someone flinch away so hard from a simple slap on the ass, or grimace like they were expecting an executioner to flip the switch on an electric chair. She lowered her hand and very, very gently patted Yuna’s thigh. "You know what would be fun? Let's make out!”

Yuna pushed herself up on her elbows. Her bare stomach peeled away from Gahyeon’s thighs. Probably because she’d been sweating so darn much from her nerves. She gave Gahyeon a poor excuse for a defiant glare and sniffed away the lump in her throat. “Make… make out? But I’m here for… I thought you were supposed to be a good dominatrix.”

Gahyeon looked up at the dimmed light fixture and exhaled quietly. “Hey, I know you said something kind of like this earlier, but can you remind me what your safe word is, Yuna?” The question sounded a little more condescending than Gahyeon had meant it to.

“I don’t need woa-aaah!”

Crooking her elbow under Yuna’s waist, Gahyeon picked her up, suplexed her onto the bed, climbed on top of her, and got face-to-face. “First of all, ‘dominatrix’ is improper terminology for this situation. Second, if we don’t negotiate a safe word, I’m out of here.”

"Ummm. I, uh. Um."

"Tell me the first word that comes to mind."

“M-mistress?”

Gahyeon rolled her eyes. “Okay, bye.”

“Huh? Wait!”

Gahyeon was already halfway to the door by the time Yuna scrambled off the bed, but turned back to give her an uncaring glare. On her feet, Yuna was a hell of a sight. Tall, skinny, but curvaceous, like the kind of doll that would be sold to make young girls self-conscious about their bodies. Long, dark red hair and black pools for eyes, and she'd put on far more makeup than reasonable for an average coffee run. Gahyeon didn’t want to leave, but Yuna wasn’t making staying the easy decision.

"Wait for what?" Gahyeon asked.

"For… to… so you can make me…"

"I can't make you finish a sentence."

Yuna's supermodel bearing was taken down a peg by her disappointed slouch and concerned grimace. "You know what I mean… like, dominate me."

"Why?"

"Aren’t you horny?"

Gahyeon glanced at Yuna's tits. "No more than usual."

"What? But I…"

"You sure did."

"I-I was going to say—"

"I know."

"N-no you don't!"

Gahyeon groaned, "Maybe I don't care then. No big deal. Take your pick. I don’t like brats. I only tolerate them during Kinktober."

Yuna blushed and looked down, wiggling her knees in discomfort. Gahyeon wasn't going to deny that Yuna was fantastically fuckable, but she was also responsible enough to know when someone was in over their head. "Well, Yuna? What are you trying to do?"

Yuna muttered "I want to get laid" under her breath. With no other noise in the room to mask it, Gahyeon heard it, and yet a vague muttering wasn't what she wanted to hear.

"What's that? I couldn't hear you."

"I wanna get laid,” Yuna whined, fully out loud, “Okay?"

Gahyeon leaned back against the doorframe. "You a virgin?"

Yuna's blush extended down to her shoulders.

"Well that's a yes."

"B-but! I'm—No, I'm not!"

"And you would say that even if I said calling someone a virgin is just a bad social construct and that being a so-called ‘virgin’ is no better or worse than the alternative?"

"Uh…" Yuna scrunched her nose as she used all of her brain power to process the question. "Yes? Or, wait, no?"

"Nevermind.” Gahyeon waved it off. “Just tell me the truth. Have you had sex before or not? Anything with hands or mouths counts."

There was a pause while Yuna weighed her options. "No…”

Gahyeon was actually a little bit shocked. Yuna was among the hottest of idols, so even this level of awkwardness didn’t seem like it should be too much of a hindrance. Gahyeon had fucked or at least fucked around with a dozen idols with subpar social skills in the prior couple of months.

“But I've been trying!” Yuna shouted after the briefest silence, “Nobody will fuck me though! Not even men!”

“The fuck do you mean, ‘Not even men?’”

“Boys are supposed to be horny all the time. But even if I show them my pussy, they keep rejecting me.”

Gahyeon sighed, “Is that proceeding or preceding a conversation?”

“Of course I say ‘Hi.’ I try asking them if they work out too.”

“Is that it? Because idols have to work out. It’s in the job description.”

Yuna groaned and plopped onto the bed, curving her back like a clothes mannequin, apparently subconsciously. “I've tried all the stuff boys are supposed to like! I touch them, I guide their hands to my boobs, I tell them they smell sexy. All that stuff! And don't get me started on girls. I see them going around and getting laid all the time! And it's like, they'll be sluts for anybody except for me, and—”

“Let me stop you there before you make more of a fool of yourself,” Gahyeon snapped. Yuna froze. “A few things. One: We only use words like ‘slut’ in an endearing manner around here. Two: Some people might just not want to fuck you, ever. Can’t control it. And three: Are you just expecting sex from people? Like me?”

Yuna shifted uncomfortably. “No… I'm doing what I'm supposed to do first.”

“And what is that?”

“You know.” Yuna waved her hands around, pantomiming nothing in particular. “I ask politely. I let them know I'm available. I make myself up for them.”

“And…” Gahyeon mimicked Yuna’s pointless pantomimes. “They should obviously be throwing themselves at you, yet somehow nobody is approaching you?”

“I’ve been approached, I guess, but not from anyone in my league.”

“Pretty sure you’re still in the little leagues, my dude.”

Yuna whined, “Why should I be?! Every fan and their mom wants me.”

“Gross power dynamic, but okay. So I should have just known what you wanted when you walked up to me? And I should have wanted to fuck you? No conversation required?”

“Well… No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that if I do all that stuff—and more, by the way—and they're horny, why shouldn’t they want to fuck me? I'm not even demanding anything from them. I'm offering! Like, blowjobs. I'd be doing all the work!”

Gahyeon stepped away from the door frame and paced the room. “Here's the thing, Yuna. It sounds like people might be picking up on an attitude problem.”

“Attitu—but, no! I'm literally offering a good time, and usually I offer just to make them feel good! I'm not asking for anything in return! What's the big deal?”

“Nothing you've said yet strikes you as ‘bad attitude?’ Because it sounds to me like you're not affording people the courtesy of assuming they have a full breadth of human emotion and think they're good for nothing but sex.”

Yuna blinked. “I-I am, though!”

“Not, or aren't?”

“Ugh!” Yuna grabbed a handful of her hair. “No, I'm saying… You know what? Forget it! I'll just never—”

Looking her up and down for a moment (and not really listening), Gahyeon wondered if her behavior was ever anything like Yuna's. Probably not. She was practically domming her members ever since they met, and it turned sexual almost as soon as Gahyeon was old enough. Relating to Yuna was clearly out of the question.

Even so, Gahyeon felt a sympathetic pulse in her veins. Yuna's troubles, self-imposed or not and ultimately, definitely not anything close to a big deal, were still troubles to Yuna, and they were eating her up, it seemed.

Gahyeon weighed her options. Doing as Yuna demanded would enforce negative opinions. Refusing would make things more awkward for the next person Yuna tried to seduce. But Gahyeon did still like the idea of Yuna… She cracked her knuckles.

“—so I guess I'll just die alone,” Yuna continued to bitch on, “stuffing myself with bigger and bigger—”

Gahyeon cut Yuna off with a hand over her mouth. “Yuna? One word answer. Do you still want to get laid right now?”

Yuna’s eyes, glistening with tears at the edges, widened in something between fear and awe. And yet, she didn’t answer.

Half expecting her to come up with some kind of painfully awkward excuse for saying no, Gahyeon kicked things up a notch. She pulled up her shirt with one hand, catching her bra along the way, and flashed Yuna, full-boobed. She took her hand off Yuna's mouth to gesture at her bare chest, and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Yuna said almost as if she was in a trance.

“Then turn around.”

Yuna scrambled to her feet without standing up fully, spun a hundred and eighty degrees, and fell forward, catching herself on her elbows. Her knees followed her up and with that her ass was presented.

“Good,” Gahyeon said as she took her shirt and bra off entirely, “Now what exactly would you like me to do?”

“Uuuh…”

“Finger you? Tease you?” Gahyeon dropped her pants, climbing out of them and onto the bed behind Yuna. “I can let you take charge. Maybe I shouldn't have told you to turn around?”

Yuna shook her head. “N-no, nope, it would be better with you in charge.”

“Just give me a little bit of guidance then. I could have sworn you were asking for this.”

Gahyeon slid her hands up Yuna’s back, nails first, leaving white lines that quickly faded back into the approximation of porcelain that this new canvas was made of. Over and over again, Gahyeon reminded herself that Yuna was very pretty, and tried to use that to make herself forget the annoying parts. The fact that she was still thinking about them as she gripped Yuna’s tits didn’t bode well, but many three-plus-somes with Sua and Yoohyeon taught her the virtue of perseverance through annoying sex partners. Yuna was a very pretty canvas that needed to learn some manners.

In-depth lessons would come later though, after Gahyeon showed Yuna what her reward had the potential to be. “Well?”

Yuna's breaths got heavy as Gahyeon’s hands continued to wander, shifting between teasing touches and firm pressure. “I… I, um.”

"You want this?"

Yuna shook all over. She bit her lip and nodded.

Gahyeon breathed across Yuna’s ear, sending a deep shiver down her spine. “Tell me, then.”

“I d-don’t know what to say,” Yuna whined, groping blindly behind herself for Gahyeon’s arms.

Gahyeon pressed her chest against Yuna’s back and grabbed her hands, twirling their fingers together in a cruel, teasing dance. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, for starters.”

“It’s… hard to say.” Yuna arched her back, pushing her ass into Gahyeon’s hips. Her breath spiked over and over.

Gahyeon let her arms go mostly slack. “Then guide me there.”

With no small amount of hesitation, Yuna pulled Gahyeon’s hands tighter around herself and onto her ribs, moving them in a slow, jerking way down until they were between her legs. “Here.”

“I see. So you want me to touch your pussy? Your clit?”

Yuna whined even harder. She pushed insistently on Gahyeon’s limp fingers. “Both.”

“Both? That’s not how I phrased the question. It’s your pussy.” Gahyeon pressed one finger against Yuna’s entrance, earning a gasp. “Or your clit.” She pressed Yuna’s button with another finger, which all but made Yuna double over. Only then did Gahyeon wonder if she was technically providing incorrect information by distinguishing the body parts as separate.

“Oooh my g—My clit! Touch my clit…”

In a flash, Gahyeon took her hand back, licked her middle finger, and put it back, steadily swirling around Yuna’s clitoris. Yuna had to reach back and hang on to Gahyeon’s thighs to keep herself from falling. Her twitches, jerks, and shaky breathing were fun, and exactly what Gahyeon needed to get over her annoyance, at least for a while.

“I’m going to do the same thing with my tongue now, okay?”

Yuna shot up onto her hands. “Your t-tongue?”

Gahyeon circled Yuna’s clit with her finger, making her moan and tense up. She lowered her face so her mouth would be obscured, and the air from her every word would brush across Yuna’s pussy. “I might accidentally touch you with my lips too, if you’re okay with that. I promise I’ll be soft and gentle.”

“O-okay?”

Figuring that Yuna wouldn’t be giving her any more confident a response than that, Gahyeon leaned in further, gathering up extra spit as she went. She pressed the end of her tongue to Yuna’s clit, not hard, but somewhat firmly.

“O-oh," Yuna cooed and took a deep breath, "that’s pretty much just like your finge—”

Gahyeon swirled her tongue around Yuna’s hood, and the girl squirmed back and up out of range with a comically loud gasp. Gahyeon smiled internally. She knew what that was about. The shock of a good time could occasionally make one run away.

"Oh no," she said sarcastically, "You didn't like it. I'm sorry."

Yuna scrambled to get back in place, nearly kicking Gahyeon in the face. "No! I-I liked… please do it again?" There was desperation oozing out of her puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. Just be sure to tell me how you’re feeling, yeah?" She really wanted to hear Yuna try to describe being eaten out with her limited sexual vocabulary.

"I'll try…"

"Yes, just be as descriptive as you can, okay? I’ll adjust as needed."

Yuna nodded quickly. It was pretty clear that she just wanted Gahyeon to start again, so Gahyeon did, very, very, very slowly. She wet her tongue and barely touched it to Yuna's clit.

Again, Yuna flinched. This time Gahyeon was sure it was in anticipation. She looked up through the mild cleavage to give Yuna a reminder.

"Uh! Good! It felt good!"

Gahyeon touched again, but snaked her arms around Yuna’s legs to keep her in place. Another twitch, but smaller. Yuna was trying to contain herself. Gahyeon dragged her tongue slowly left and right. Trying to hold back wasn’t easy.

"It's… good."

Yuna's body language said much more than "good" though. She wanted more. Her eyes were fixed on Gahyeon. Her toes curled and uncurled against Gahyeon’s hips. Her knuckles were white, gripping the blanket. Her lungs shuddered with each brand new sensation that popped its way through her nerves. Goosebumps rose and fell and rose and rose and fell and rose. She had to be putting immense effort into holding still.

"Good."

Upping the ante, Gahyeon swirled again, catching the underside of Yuna's hood. Yuna twitched hard, and for a brief moment her eyes rolled up. Her breath was stuck, but it came unstuck with a second swirl, and exited Yuna's mouth in the form of a pained whimper. That was what Gahyeon was looking for.

"You like?"

"Good! It was so good! Please do it again!" Yuna’s inhibition was faltering.

"Tell me more." Gahyeon didn't pretend to hesitate again. She pressed her tongue under Yuna's hood and down against her clit, wiggling back and forth while keeping herself planted.

"Mmm! I… I don't know what to—OH! AUGH!”

Yuna’s last exclamation was a bit of a surprise, both to Gahyeon and Yuna herself, it seemed, as she quickly covered her mouth, eyes wide.

“Was that a good sound?” Gahyeon asked, already knowing the answer.

Yuna nodded.

“Uncover your mouth, then, and keep it up.”

There was some hesitation in how Yuna followed the instructions as Gahyeon got back to playing with her clit, but she did a little better than simply following. She grasped Gahyeon’s hands, alternated between hitched breaths and primal moans, and tucked her chin toward her chest.

Every word Yuna tried to say morphed into one of those noises until she came. One long, vulgar scream faded into mewling whimpers.

Gahyeon crawled up Yuna’s body, pecking her along the way and giving her a much longer, wetter kiss on the mouth. Yuna giggled through it all, a little cum-drunk. “So,” Gahyeon said, “that’s one of the basics.”

“The b-basics?”

“Yeah.” Gahyeon twirled onto her back, slipping an arm beneath Yuna to pull her in close.

“Wow…” Yuna muttered.

The two basked in each other’s warmth for a while without a word. Gahyeon shifted a couple of times to try to optimize her comfort, but still mentally bemoaned Yuna’s lack of experience. She would not have minded a bit of reciprocation. A plan to pick up one or two of her usual subs on the way home began to formulate in her head. Jane would certainly be up for a bit of fun.

“Um, Gahyeon?”

Gahyeon stroked Yuna’s hair, around her ear, down her jaw, and to her chin. Yuna smiled and purred a little. Gahyeon returned that smile. “Hm?”

“Thank you for, um… not making fun of me.”

“Don’t thank me for that.” Gahyeon traced half of Yuna’s lower lip. “I made fun of you a little bit when we started. And quite a bit more later, I believe.”

Yuna cautiously placed a hand on Gahyeon’s breast, but got a little bolder and lightly squeezed when Gahyeon smiled. “I just mean most of the time.”

“I guess. I’ll keep in mind that you appreciate that.” Gahyeon giggled as Yuna nuzzled her stomach with her cheek. “Just be clear with people about what you do and don’t like, and you’ll have a… great time.”

Gahyeon’s last words were drawn out over the sound of a buzzing phone. Yuna’s, to be precise. She stretched to get it from the nightstand and saw “RAW” was calling.

“Raw?” Gahyeon asked.

Yuna reluctantly removed her hand from Gahyeon’s boob to take the phone. “That’s Ryujin… sorry. One sec.”

Though it was quiet, the lack of ambient noise made it easy for Gahyeon to hear Ryujin’s loud voice. “Where the hell are you, Yuna? We checked the bathroom.”

“I’m… upstairs.”

“Upstairs? The fuck are you doing upstairs for a whole hour?”

Yuna’s eyes traveled up and down Gahyeon’s body. “Cuddling?”

“Cuddling? For an hour? Yeah right.”

Huge puppy dog eyes met Gahyeon’s, trying to ask for permission. Gahyeon shrugged.

“Wel—”

“I’m cuddling with Gahyeon because we just had sex,” Yuna said, and then immediately snapped her mouth shut and stared into space.

“What?! No you didn’t, you fuckin baby child! You couldn’t handle her!”

Gahyeon watched for a few seconds as Yuna’s shoulders shrunk into her neck while Ryujin berated her.

“... and you’d come running back down the stairs crying—”

“Actually, Ryujin,” Gahyeon spoke loudly, “she’s not bad. You should let her practice on you sometime.”

Gahyeon swore she heard the sound of a pair of spit takes through the phone before it suddenly beeped twice and went silent. She decided not to wait too long for Yuna’s embarrassment to take over, and laid a hand on Yuna’s back. “Care to learn anything else today? If you want to prove what you can do to Ryujin and Yeji, you may need to do to them what I just did to you.”

Thankfully, Yuna’s blush didn’t get too far. “I-I don’t know if I can do any more right now.”

Gahyeon smiled. “As in it’s time to head out or you just want more snuggles?”

Yuna pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and crawled forward, kissing Gahyeon’s lips a few times in rapid succession. “If I say I have to go, can I have your number?”

Gahyeon ran her fingers through Yuna’s hair. “Sure… but the first thing you're going to text me is a safeword for next time.”

#gahyeon #yuna #itzy yuna #dreamcatcher gahyeon #dreamcatcher #itzy #kpop #fanfic

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