#i will rb this with the taglist in the morning

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

THE MORNING SKY

— (Young) Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

After the disastrous 10th Hunger Games, where Lucy Gray Baird was among the many that were killed by the snakes, Coriolanus Snow felt ready to give up. He gave his all to help Lucy Gray win, and it still wasn’t enough. She was this close, but the games found a way to take her down. Coriolanus doesn’t know if he has it in him to do this again. And then he meets his second tribute… you. The stakes are higher than normal, because you also happen to be his soulmate.

OR

A redemption story for our dear ole’ Coryo, in which he isn’t a complete asshole.

Soulmate!AU | obviously not book / movie canon

TABLE OF CONTENTS —

0 — PREFACE / ADDITIONAL CAST

1 — THE REAPING / THE SPARK

2 — A CHANGE OF HEART

2.5 — MEET THE TRIBUTES

3 — MAKING AN ENEMY (I’LL KEEP YOU SAFE)

4 — NOT ENOUGH TIME

5 — THE GAMES [PART 1]

6 — THE GAMES [PART 2]

7 — NO CRIME GOES UNPUNISHED

8 — WE’LL FIND A WAY

9 — WHEN ALL HOPE IS LOST

10 — THE MOON AND THE STARS

11 — SNOW LANDS ON TOP

BONUS — EPILOGUE

TAGLIST — if you asked to be tagged but don’t see your username it means i wasn’t able to tag you!

TAGLIST IS FULL! FOLLOW MY BACKUP kemp-steve, i’ll be using it to rb new things i write!

@czarinera | @qoopeeya | @user123453226780536 | @madamemaximoff06 | @ms-longbeach | @mizuki80 | @captainbabybear | @kuroosbby001 | @justacaliforniandreamer | @siriusly-rem | @missunicorn | @alllriseabove | @niki-is-a-thing | @iiuvchi | @firesunflames | @ashcosmo | @nilletellsstories | @hawkinsavclub1983 | @nyxsoleil-blog | @peachyafshawn | @coryoskywalker | @just-a-littlebit-of-everything | @ardentsnowfall | @tiaamberxx | @or-was-it-just-a-dream | @foxevxid | @poppyflower-22 | @springholland | @prettyppetty | @katherineeekai | @regulusblackcore | @justaproudslytherpuff | @jklsh | @bogbutteronmycroissant | @tanyaherondale | @sunoosfavsposts | @moonlightfoxs-cantina | @vesperslumbers | @writersblockiskillingme | @becauseseaotters | @ennycutie | @edb954 | @hiraishua | @wearemadeofstardust0 | @phoward89 | @merlieve | @nataliaswifey | @ladyvenera | @gracieroxzy | @kbakery |

[boyfhees]

🗗 REFUSING TO RECOGNIZE THEM WHEN YOU'RE DRUNK

FT. oikawa, kuroo, atsumu, akaashi, bokuto

W. mentions of drinking

AN. reposting :( i only found one taglist, i'll add the second one when i do :(

OIKAWA!

offended because he's your boyfriend and you refuse to recognize him. it's just a series of 'y/n i'm your boyfriend,' and 'no, you're not. my boyfriend is prettier,' he's literally suffering because it's getting late and people keep giving him weird looks. tries to convince you using pictures in his phone but still no avail because, "listen mister, i know how photoshopping works." is all you say, paying no attention to his words. finally gives up and helps you sober up a bit before you recognize him and you both leave after two hours of constant suffering. literally tells you not to use your brain when you're drunk because the photoshopping move took him away.

KUROO!

finds it interesting and decides to play along. says "your boyfriend doesn't have to know," with his famous shit eating grin, however, is taken aback as you gasp and slap his hand away from you. kuroo is happy that even in the lack of soberness, you won't go with any other man but at this point, it's getting too much and he's just exhausted. says something like, "let's go home, y/n," and grabs your hand, only to get punched in the face. he hopes his nose isn't broken. takes you home once you realize that he's your boyfriend because "you both look a little too similar— oh, tetsu?!" you're a little too late, y/n. please buckle up because you aren't hearing a end of this anytime soon and kuroo is the type to hold grudges <3

ATSUMU!

so fucking embarrassed because you just said, "i will report you for sexual assault," a little too loud and the people around are now sending him glares. as much as he loves you, he might really be regretting some decisions and the one to let you drink alone is on the top of the list. had to clarify using pictures on his phone and other things before someone calls cops on him. for some reason you remember osamu even when you're wasted ( which he's still offended about ) and call him to help you get home. you wouldn't stop saying things like, "samu, who is this weird man? where is tsum?" and it pains him physically.

AKAASHI!

tired. it's late night and he wants to sleep so bad. doesn't take shit from anyone, just picks you up and walks out. ( akaashi is very capable of that, i know ) definitely gets weird stares about it but no one really questions since you aren't opposed to his actions. if you don't recognize him, he washes you face until you get a minimum hold of yourself. turns out you actually recognized him a while later and apologize to him the next morning. he doesn't let you drink alone ever again. kinda salty that you didn't try to stop him when he picked you up because it could've been anyone else. just be ready for a lecture.

BOKUTO!

in tears, honestly. it's not like you accidently hit him or anything. you're not even listening to him. he's the sitting beside you, begging you to come with him while you keep rambling about how amazing and hot your boyfriend is. and as much as he likes compliments, he clearly doesn't appreciate them at 2 am when you refuse to recognize him. "y/n, let's go home," — "you know, kou used to call me that," — "that's because it's your name?!" — yeah you have this moment with him and it kills you the next morning because you remember everything. when he asks you to come home a little too firmly, you glare at him and refuse, saying that you already have a boyfriend, he's not sure if he should be happy or crying. finally you pass you and he takes you home, sigh <3

taglist in the rbs.

[flightlessangelwings]

Us Against the World

Tasm!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 4.4k

Dialogue prompt- “ hey! why don’t you try picking on someone your own size! “ Action prompt- [ DISTRACT ]: sender causes a distraction to draw the receiver’s attacker/s away from them.

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY), action, protective!Peter, food mention (reader makes salsa), Peter lifts reader, attempted harm to reader, the villain uses gas and chemistry to attack and reader is described as being trapped in a cloud at one point, reader interacts with kids briefly, no use of y/n

Notes- This month’s Year of Protectiveness is in honor of Andrew Garfield's birthday! I can't believe we're in August already! @yearofcreation2023 But this one was alot of fun to write so I hope y'all enjoy it! And I wrote it so that it could be read in the same timeline as Just Kiss Like Real People Do so if you liked that one, here is more with that pair but of course it could be read on its own! I"ll link it in the taglist rb if you want a refersher!

@flightlessangelwings-updatesis my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifs!

~

The city lights illuminated the way as Peter swung through the tall buildings of New York. The air was crisp so high up, and it felt refreshing after a long night of being Spider-Man. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he knew it was late… well after midnight. And even though the villain he was chasing got away… again… all Peter looked forward to was coming home to you.

Peter expected you to be sound asleep in the tiny apartment, so he was surprised when the light from the widow shined like a beacon calling him back. His heart pounded in his chest and he hoped you were alright as he flipped his wrist to shoot a web towards the building and hurled himself into the window. Letting out a heavy breath, Peter ripped off the Spider-Man mask and closed the window behind him.

Just as he was about to call out your name, the sound of the blender filled the space. That combined with the intoxicating aroma of the spices and tomatoes told Peter exactly what you were doing. His stomach growled as he stepped out of the tiny bedroom and into the living space where you were occupied at the kitchen counter. 

He stood in the doorway for a moment and just watched you with a lovestruck expression on his face. Every time he saw you it was like the first time, and even dressed down in a t-shirt and shorts, you looked stunning to him. You were too consumed with putting the last touches on your salsa that you didn’t hear him come in. But, Peter enjoyed the view for the time being and his heart skipped a beat in his chest with the overwhelming emotions he felt towards you.

But, when you let out a startled yelp, Peter quickly jumped into action. 

You had turned around and were surprised when you saw him standing there. So surprised that you almost dropped the blender that held the salsa you had worked so hard on. But Peter was quick, and in a flash he jumped across the room and caught it before it hit the floor and splattered everywhere.

“Peter!” you exclaimed, “You scared the shit out of me! I didn’t hear you come in!”

“Sorry sweetheart,” he mumbled sheepishly as he set the blender on the counter, licking a drop that splashed onto his fingers after, “Wouldn’t want to waste any of your famous salsa,” he laughed softly, “But why are you up? It’s 3 in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you shrugged as you eyed him up and down. Ever since you found out that Peter Parker, your best friend, the person you had been in love with for years, was Spider-Man, it never got old seeing him in the suit. His long, toned arms, muscular body and especially the messy hair took your breath away every time.

“Everything alright?” Peter asked, concern lining his tone as he peeled the top half of the suit off and stepped closer towards you. 

“Fine,” you fidgeted as you felt your skin heat up under his gaze as your eyes dropped down to the floor, “Just thought you’d be hungry when you got back…” your voice sounded distant.

Peter looked at you with a softness and adoration in his eyes as he reached out and cupped your face, gently pulling you to look at him, “You know I know when you’re lying to me, right?” his voice was soft as his thumb brushed your cheek.

You let out a shaky breath as his eyes locked with yours, “I…” you trembled in under his hand, “I was worried…” you admitted.

“Baby,” Peter rested his free hand on your waist, holding you in his special way, “I’m fine, honestly. You know nothing would ever keep me from coming back to you, right?” he exhaled deeply, “I promise,” he took a breath, “You and me, remember?”

Tears filled the corners of your eyes at the sincerity in his voice and the confident look in his face. You knew he had been Spider-Man for a long time now, he had his powers and he knew what he was doing. Yet, you’d never loved anyone as much as you loved Peter, and sometimes you couldn’t help but worry as your mind went to the worst possible scenario. 

“I know,” you breathed. You opened your mouth to say more, but the words were caught in your throat as Peter reeled forward and kissed you deeply. Somehow, you were sure he knew what you were going to say, how much you worried for him. He said it in his kiss. 

“Sweetheart,” Peter mumbled between kisses as he backed you up against the counter, “As much as I love your salsa…” his voice dropped and his eyes darkened, “There’s something else I want right now…”

“Peter!” you couldn’t help but laugh at his insinuation, but you also felt a pulse of need through your body. You clung to his shoulders as your mind swam and your body warmed.

He let out a soft chuckle as his hands roamed up and down your sides, savoring the feeling of you under his touch. As much as it was a comfort to you to feel Peter’s hands on you, to feel his touch, it was just as much a comfort for him to know you were here and safe. Peter’s cock twitched as his hands dipped under the waistband of your shorts and in a flash he yanked them off of you, causing you to yelp in surprise.

But, before you could react to your shorts and underwear suddenly on the floor, you found yourself hoisted up onto the kitchen counter. Giggles erupted between you as Peter nestled himself between your legs… your bare legs. A low groan unlike anything you ever heard rumbled from deep in Peter’s throat as his eyes landed between your legs.

“Fuck…” he breathed heavily in a tone that made you shiver.

“Pete,” you sighed as you watched him drop down to his knees.

Immediately, you buried your hands in his hair as his hands ghosted along your inner thighs. Peter mumbled your name in a praise before he licked his lips and dove into you, causing you to scream loudly.

You saw stars as Peter worked you with his tongue, licking and slurping every sensitive spot with precision. You could tell even in your blissed out state that he was too desperate to tease you and take it slow tonight. Tonight was all about need; it was the need for both of you to know the other was here.

Tugging at his hair, you felt like your body was on fire from the way he worked you with his talented mouth. Every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure up your spine, and you were sure you weren’t going to last much longer. You arched your back as parted your legs more to give Peter more access to your body, an invitation that he immediately accepted. 

“Shit… Pete…” you moaned as you felt your body tingle.

Peter grabbed your inner thighs and squeezed hard as he intensified his motions, determined to push you over the edge in bliss. And from the way you screamed his name, he knew you were close.

It only took a few more licks of his tongue, a few more nibbles of his lips, one last nuzzle of his head before you came hard. Your head slammed against the cabinet as you screamed, your legs trembling under his strong grip as you gushed into his mouth. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as bursts of color clouded your vision.

As Peter coaxed you down from you high, you felt his movements slow before he reluctantly broke away from you. A trail of spit connected the two of you until he moved far enough for it to break, but in the corner of his mouth remained a shiny dribble of your release. Peter watched until you opened your eyes to lick it clean with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Delicious,” he chuckled as he rose to his feet and wrapped his arms around you, “But I’m not done with you yet,” he tone dropped as he easily picked you up and spun you around.

“Pete!” you yelped as you wrapped your arms and legs around his strong body. No matter how many times he lifted you up, you never quite got used to his super strength, and it caught you off guard in the most wonderful way every time.

He quickly made his way across the small apartment and gently lowered you down onto the bed, handing you with tender care as he did so. Peter stood for a moment and admired the sight of you, spread out on the bed, naked from the waist down and a look of pure bliss on your face. Hastily, he ripped off his Spider-Man suit so he was bare for you, and the way you eyed him hungrily made his cock stiffen even more.

“Like the view, sweetheart?” he asked with a cocky grin.

“Very much,” you purred as you bit your lip and extended your arms for him. You loved when he got like this.

“I do too,” his tone matched yours as he hovered over you, “But,” Peter grabbed your shirt, “You’re overdressed.”

You burst into laughter at his antics and allowed him to take off your shirt, the only barrier between your bodies. The two of you let out matching gasps at the sight of the other, as if it was the first time all over again. At times, it felt like that for both of you. The wonder, the passion, the desire never got old so matter how many times you slept together.

“I love you,” Peter broke the silence with a breathless voice as he cupped your face.

“I love you too,” you replied in a dreamy tone as you mirrored his action.

In a flash, Peter closed the gap between your bodies with a heated and desperate kiss. He swallowed the moan you let out as you parted your lips for him once more. The taste of yourself on Peter’s tongue was just as intoxicating for you as it was for him, and you bucked your hips against his hardened cock in a wordless plea.

Without breaking away, Peter muffled a moan as he positioned himself between your legs once more, this time with his cock poking at your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you, past the first ring of muscle and into your warmth to connect your bodies together.

The moan you let out made you break away from the kiss, and your cry of pleasure echoed in the tiny room as Peter entered you inch by slow inch. You heard Peter’s own moans as he felt you engulf him, and he rested his forehead against yours as he slowly bottomed out inside of you.

Together, the two of you laid with Peter on top of you. Heavy breaths filled the room as you stayed with your sweaty foreheads pressed together. You wrapped your arms around him and dug your nails into his shoulders, clinging to him desperately.

“Move,” you pleaded softly.

He groaned your name and compiled without another word. He started slowly at first, rocking in and out of you, savoring the moans and groans you let out every time he was fully sheathed inside you. It wasn’t until you let out a higher pitched cry that Peter picked up his pace; he found what he was looking for.

“You feel so good, sweetheart,” Peter moaned, “Shit…”

The bed creaked as Peter thrust in and out of you faster and faster. As much as he wanted to keep his eyes open, to watch every expression you made when he was inside you, he couldn’t. He knew he would cum too fast if he watched the way your mouth hung open and your body bounced with his every move.

But luckily for him, you also weren’t far behind.

“Fuck!” you screamed as you dug your nails into Peter’s skin, “I’m gonna cum… Peter…”

“Me too baby,” Peter grunted, “Fuck…”

Peter’s thrusts became fast and erratic as he chased his climax as well as your own. He pounded into you with fervor as you screamed and your second climax hit suddenly. Your inner muscles clenched around him as you squeezed him inside and out. That and your beautiful screams were just the final push Peter needed for his own orgasm, and with a loud moan of your name, he came deep inside you. But, he kept going, wanting to savor every second of your shared climaxes together until he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. 

Peter let out a deep exhale as he collapsed down on top of you. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him as close as you could. Neither of you wanted to move, content to stay in the other’s embrace, safe and loved. For several long moments, no one spoke, and just the sound of slow, deep breaths filled the room as you felt the other’s heart pound against your bodies.

It was Peter who broke the silence first with your name in a low voice.

“Hmm?” you hummed as you ran your hand through his hair.

“You know I’ll always come back to you, right?” Peter said as he propped himself up on his elbows to look into your eyes.

Your heart fluttered in your chest, “I know,” you cupped his face the same way he did yours earlier, “I trust you… I just worry sometimes,” you admitted.

“I do too,” Peter breathed, “But I’ll always keep you safe, sweetheart.”

The truth was Peter always worried about you too. He was scared that someday someone would find out his superhero alter and use you against him. He was scared that one day you would get hurt because of him. He was scared that one day he might not get back to you in time… But, as much as you trusted him, Peter had to trust you too. Having no one else, it was just the two of you against the world.

“I’m gonna go shower then we can sleep in tomorrow,” Peter broke himself from his thoughts, “How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” you purred as you gave him a chaste kiss on the lips, “A day at home together sounds like just what we both need. But remember, the day after is that science museum day I wanted to go to.”

Peter let out a soft laugh as he tapped your face playfully, “I wouldn’t miss it, baby.”

*

“Looks like we came on a school field trip day,” you commented as you and Peter walked hand in hand into the science museum.

Children filled the space and chattered excitedly among themselves. The two of you followed close behind the class as you lost yourself in the exhibits. At one point, you broke away from Peter so you could play with one of the hands-on displays, and he couldn’t help but chuckle brightly at you as you were just as excited as the kids were.

As Peter watched you, a thought popped into his head: he was ready to marry you. He had never been more in love with you than he was at that moment as you laughed in fascination at the exhibit. He wanted to marry you for some time, but as he stared stupidly at you, Peter knew it was time for him to pop the question.

“Hey Pete…?” your voice broke him from his thoughts.

Peter suddenly found himself face to face with you, and he must have zoned out for a moment because you looked concerned, “Yeah?” he asked as he cleared his throat and tried not to look conspicuous. 

“Everything ok?” you asked as you tilted your head to the side a bit.

Peter just smiled back at you; you had no idea what he had in store for you, “Perfect,” he slid his hand in yours again, “Shall we check out that chemistry demonstration?” his tone was light, “You look like you’re having more fun than the kids are,” Peter joked.

“Shut up,” you giggled as you playfully nudged him.

Peter imagined that your hand would feel like with a ring on your finger as he fiddled with your knuckles. Yes, it was time, and everything was perfect. But, just as it felt like nothing could bring down his mood, a chill ran up Peter’s spine and he was suddenly filled with a sense of dread the moment the two of you crossed the threshold into the other room where the chemistry table was set up.

He stopped dead in his tracks as his heart sank and the hairs on his neck and arms stood up. The man behind the table was instantly recognizable to him; he was the one that kept slipping out of his grasp. And the feeling of dread was only made worse when the chemist looked up from his table and made direct eye contact with him.

It was like he knew.

“Peter?” you sounded even more worried than before as you tugged his arm.

Without a word, Peter dragged you out of the room and down the hallway towards the bathrooms. His heart pounded in his chest as his first thought was of keeping you safe and getting you out of harm’s way.

“Peter?!” you repeated more forcefully, “What’s going on?”

“Listen to me,” Peter grabbed your shoulders and spun you to look him in the eyes, “That guy… He’s…” he let out an exasperated sigh, “He’s the guy I haven’t been able to catch,” he finished in a hushed tone.

You gasped as your eyes went wide.

“I think he knows who I am too. Something just feels off,” Peter sounded more scared than you’d ever heard him before, “But I want you to get out of here, I’m going to stop him here and now.”

“What about those kids?” you asked as your breath came out fast and ragged, “We have to get everyone else out too,” you inhaled deeply, “Let me help you, Pete.”

His lips tightened as he paused for a moment before he spoke with a heavy exhale, “I’m going to create a distraction, and you help them out,” Peter’s grip on your shoulders tightend, “But you promise me you’ll get yourself out of here.”

You nodded, swallowing your fear, “What kind of distraction were you thinking?”

At the same time, both your heads turned and both your eyes landed on the fire alarm that stood out on the wall. You looked back at Peter and he nodded at you, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

“I love you.” Peter’s words sounded more like an assurance than a confession.

You knew what he meant too: Stay safe.

In a flash, Peter pulled the fire alarm before he rushed around the corner to rip his shirt off, revealing the spider suit underneath. At the same time, you ran towards the children, who you headed screaming and panicking before you even reached the room.

“Quickly!” you shouted, “Outside! Now!”

The kids scrambled as they rushed towards the door and you ushered them out. But, as you did that, a movement from the front of the room caught your attention.

The chemist dissolved into a fit of rage, and you heard his angry mumbles to himself even over the fire alarm. Smoke billowed out from either side of him as he mixed his viles together and for a brief moment, he looked up and caught your gaze.

Everything felt like it froze as you locked eyes with him, and suddenly you knew what Peter felt. It felt like this man looked into your soul and read your deepest secrets. Your blood ran cold and fear pulsed through your veins as he suddenly launched himself at you.

You yelped and covered your head, anticipating an impact, but it never came. Looking up, you saw Spider-Man clinging to the ceiling, a shot of web tangling with the chemist and stopping him in his tracks.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” Spider-Man quipped as he flung another web shot at him and flipped over to stand in front of you.

“Spider-Man…” the chemist growled as he threw a bottle towards him.

Peter quickly covered you, protecting you from the impact as well as the few kids who still hadn’t gotten out. 

“Spider-Man!” They cheered together as they kept for joy- and relief- at seeing their favorite hero.

“Get out of here kids!” Peter instructed before he glanced at you for a moment. The two of you nodded subtly before he turned back to the chemist and launched himself at him.

“Come on,” you breathed, “Hurry!”

You pushed the rest of the kids out of the room, but before you yourself exited, you couldn’t help but look back. Deep down, you knew Peter put himself in danger as Spider-Man, but to actually see him fight in person, and so close, was something else. You felt fear, but not for yourself. Watching him take and deliver hit after hit honestly scared you. 

But you suddenly had something else to worry about.

“You!” The chemist roared as he gathered his concoctions.

“No!” Peter sounded more scared than you had ever heard him before.

Clearly, it was obvious to the chemist how important you were to Spider-Man, to Peter, and he took advantage of the opportunity. Before either of you could react, he threw something at you, and you found yourself surrounded by a blinding gas. 

You gasped as you covered your mouth and dropped to the floor. Faintly, you heard the grunts of Peter fighting him still, but you couldn’t see anything. You were sure if it was from the gas or just from the adrenaline but you felt more and more dizzy the longer you stayed in the fog.

I’m another flash, you heard an explosion and the building shook. You struggled to keep from falling completely flat on the floor and you scrambled to stay on your hands and knees, ready for anything. 

You heard your name in Peter’s voice before you saw his silhouette appear in the fog. You tried to call out his name, but your voice croaked. Reaching out for him your hand trembled until it finally made contact with his.

“I’m here,” Peter murmured to you as he yanked you close, “Cover your mouth and hang on,” his voice trembled, “I’m getting you out of here.”

All you could do was nod as you felt yourself lifted into his arms with his super strength. You covered your mouth as you clung to him with your other arm. A gust of air hit your face as you found yourself flung through the air as Peter flipped and flung your bodies out of the museum. Faintly, you both heard the kids cheering for Spider-Man and shouting excitedly. Usually, Peter would have stopped for them, but right now his first priority was you and your safety.

You buried your head in the crook of his neck as you felt the air get fresher and fresher as he fwiped through the buildings and landed you both in an empty skyscraper far away from everyone.

The moment he sat you down, Peter ripped off his mask and looked you over, cupping your face as he did so. “Look at me,” he sounded breathless, “Are you hurt?”

You immediately saw the look of pure fear on his face, and it made your heart sink. You were sure you looked a mess, and you felt sore but you didn’t feel hurt. “I’m ok,” you whispered. 

Peter exhaled your name in relief as he gathered you in his arms. “You’re ok, sweetheart,” he cupped the back of your head as he held you as close and as tight as he could, “You’re ok…”

You weren’t sure if his words were for you or for himself. Perhaps both.

“I’m ok Pete,” you whispered softly in his ear as you clung to him, feeling safe in his arms. All the fear and adrenaline slowly faded away and you felt calm and safe the longer he held you. With one deep exhale, you felt better and you pulled away just enough to look into his eyes while still remaining secure in his arms, “Did you really have to wait and pull a dramatic rescue like that?” you smirked softly.

Peter rolled his eyes at you, but at the same time he was relieved to hear you say that; it meant you were back to normal with your wits about you, “Sweetheart…” he breathed. The truth was he had never been more scared, especially with the explosion. He opened his mouth to voice that, but the words were caught in his throat. Peter grimaced at the thought of losing you and a tear formed in the corner of his eye.

Sensing the change in tone, you tried to distract him, “Hey Pete?” you asked.

“Hmm?”

“What happened… To…?”

His grip on you tightened, “I think the mixtures he was using affected his mind… Made him so angry… He…Umm,” Peter trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud and upset you.

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure of what to say next. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for several moments as the breeze hit your faces. “Well, thank you,” you broke the silence, “For saving me.”

That brought a smile to Peter’s face. He leaned in and kissed you deeply, expressing all his emotions in the kiss instead of with his words, “You never have to thank me, honey,” he murmured against your lips as he placed a chaste kiss, “I’ll always protect you.”

You grinned against his cheek as your eyes fluttered closed, “And I’ll always take care of you too,” you hummed, “We made a good team back there though, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Peter chuffed, “You and me…”

“Against the world,” you finished the thought.

Silence fell over the two of you again, but before either of you could say anything, a growl from your stomach interrupted. You looked at Peter and both of you burst into laughter.

“I guess all that excitement made me hungry,” you chuckled.

“How about we get out of here then?” Peter said with a smirk, “I know a place that’s got the best salsa. We’ll pick up some tacos or something on the way too.”

You smiled brightly at him, “Sounds perfect…” you poked his chest, “Spider-Man.”

Peter felt his heart flutter in his chest. Oh yes, he definitely was going to find you the best ring he could and he was going to ask you to marry him as soon as possible. 

[lelengerine]

but i love you, teaser.

pairing | jaemin x reader

synopsis | for someone who prefers keeping to yourself, just how did you end up in the position of vice president for your class? not to mention, your partner is the sparkling golden boy of the school, na jaemin.

genre | class officers au, a lot of the grumpy x sunshine trope, fluff, angst, mutual pining, reader uses she/her pronouns, jaemin uses a nickname for reader (angel), cursing, more to be added in the full release

wc | 0.5k for the teaser, est. 3k+ for the entire fic!

notes | i'm back and happy birthday to our dearest nana <3 i originally wanted to finish everything so i could post it for his birthday but i think it's better i don't rush the writing for this one,, hence the teaser :D likes and rbs are highly appreciated!

m.list → send in an ask or reply to be added to the taglist!

your breathing turns ragged and heavy as you try keeping up with jaemin’s own feet — your only passing thought wondering how the boy in front of you hasn’t faltered a bit from his brisk jog amidst the empty school hallways.

the two of you were tasked to submit the class attendance folder to the teachers lounge at 7 in the morning, a daily hinderance to someone who’d rather laze around in the classroom to get a couple more minutes of sleep before the first bell would ring, someone in the likes of you.

“na jaemin! god, slow the fuck down.” you finally huff, falling behind in your steps to catch your breath.

your classmate turns around on his heel at the call of his name, “maybe you’re simply too slow, angel.” he flashes an award-winning grin while tightly holding the important folder to submit, his actions doing nothing to ease your exhaustion.

“my bad, this angel doesn’t have two feet in the air to fly whenever she wants.” your reply is enveloped in sarcasm, chest heaving at a calmer pace than a few moments prior.

“you gotta live a little, run a bit more. maybe then, you’ll take off.” the quote-esque words have you grimacing at the thought, believing it to be a sense of false, cringe worthy hope provided by the boy.

“the only thing about to fly is my fist to your face, na.” you grumble, an arm ready to hit the boy with full force as soon as your mind gives confirmation to do so.

jaemin brings a hand over your curled-up fist, halting your swing before it even happens. “nuh, uh. you wouldn’t want to risk that on your stellar school record, would you?” he tuts with a knowing look on his face, “how ironic for an angel, indeed.”

“you’re the only one that calls me that anyways.” you retract your hand back down slowly after being flustered by the mention of your student record, still eyeing the boy in front of you — the bright expression on his face remaining in tact.

“it’s because i think it suits you.” he simply puts it, turning his back on you to continue walking towards the teachers lounge.

“and how exactly does that make sense?” you inquire, trailing him from behind, and the boy knows he’s garnered your attention for the second time today.

“why should i trouble myself and explain it further?” he returns the query back in your hands, still looking ahead of him. “do i get something in return?”

“that’s just childish, na. we’re seniors.” you remind him with the roll of your eyes, somewhat glad he couldn’t see you from his position.

“hey, i don’t do things for free.”

“you do class president tasks for free.” you quickly point out, the familiar door that leads the the teachers lounge finally coming into view at the end of the hallway.

“that’s rather inevitable, isn’t it? being in this position just means its part of my responsibilities.” he shrugs, slowing down his movement now that he sees the destination ahead.

“you’re just being boring.” you groan in protest, detesting how the boy is trying to be difficult with you.

he turns around once more, albeit much more abrupt than the first instance, making you almost bump into his back side. “then how’s this? i’ll tell you the reason during the upcoming school festival.”

“fine.” you reply, straightening your clothes out after that brief moment of getting frazzled. “you can’t take that back now, na.”

“wouldn’t dream of it, angel.”

[hyuckmov]

haechan — gold-skinned, eager baby pt.2 (teaser) read the full thing here anticipated release date: valentine's day 2023 &lt;3 read the first part here! 

haechan x fem!reader teaser wc: 653 teaser genre: fluff & suggestive fic details: total wordcount tbc, smut (seriously almost entirely) and fluff anticipated warnings: as always our chest/boobs fixation, hair-pulling, my take on the classic riding him in his gaming chair scene, fingering, oral (f recieving), haechan being a mastermind male manipulator (in a sweet way), haechan not knowing what ovulation is, breeding kink, the usual brainrot topics....

a/n: NOW now now now now.... i have a good feeling about being able to make this deadline so i decided to post this now to motivate me to work towards it to :) i have a taglist set up (fill out the form in my pinned) but also you can just reply to this post/state in the tags if u rb that you would like to be tagged and i'll add you to the list (no need to do that if u alr filled up the form) !!! anyway i hope u enjoy this little bit and look forward to the actual fic <3 and thanks for 600+!!!!

haechan would say that his standard of living had increased exponentially since your second anniversary. 

the two of you had become more open with each other, communicating your frustrations and needs more easily. there was also a faint buzz of something in the air, moments when you would look over at him and he would feel a blush spread across his cheeks, burn low in his stomach. it felt a little like he was falling in love with you for the first time — it had been a while since he had felt so vulnerable and loved by you. 

"what are you thinking about?"

but perhaps the most significant improvement made to his life was the way he could now reflect on your loving and healthy relationship with his face nuzzled against your boobs.  

"love you so much," he mumbles against your skin, placing a small kiss on your cleavage. "that's what i'm thinking about." 

he feels your hand come down to stroke his hair gently, and he closes his eyes at the feeling. sunday mornings with you in bed — you scrolling through your phone while he's given the freedom to love on his favorite parts of you, have become just another routine that started ever since your second anniversary. 

focusing on freckling kisses on your warm skin, he's therefore completely unprepared for when you card your fingers through a handful of his hair only to give it a light, but still significant, tug. 

the sensation sends a feeling shooting down his spine, a slight shudder to his body as he lets out a small gasp muffled against your chest. feeling something stirring in the pit of his stomach, his legs begin to twitch against the bed, and he nuzzles his face into your chest. 

"again, please," he mumbles. 

he feels the giggles you let out right from where his face is pressed up against your chest. kicking his feet, he whines lightly in protest.  

"what's so funny?" 

"found something else you like," he hears you muse. "you're so sensitive, baby."

frowning, he scrambles to push himself up into a sitting position. the visual is slightly amusing — his hair mussed up, his lips swollen, eyes narrowed. 

"it's not fair," he states. you reach out a consoling hand to him, and even as he continues to grumble, he still intertwines your fingers gently, a contrast between his unhappy tone and his tender actions. "you have too much power over me." 

"what are you talking about?" you laugh, and he scowls. 

"you know." he mumbles. "you can just flash your tits at me and i'd do anything you ask-" 

"i can?" 

"-and now you know i like it when you pull at my hair," he whines, a permanent pout forming on his features. "it's like there's nothing i can do that makes you go crazy." 

"that's because i love all of you," you soothe. "all of you makes me feel crazy." 

"do you have any kinks you're keeping from me?" 

"you're my kink," you tease, but your smile drops when he scowls. "sorry." 

there's a pause. haechan looks at you, hard. scanning your face, his gaze doing a slow drag down and up your body, his expression darkening. something had shifted in the air, and suddenly you're a little scared to breathe too hard. 

"haechan?" 

"i'm going to find it," he breathes. 

"what?" 

"i'm going to find it, and then i'm going to make you beg for me to fuck your brains out." 

"what the fuck?" 

but haechan shakes his head, and when he next refocuses his eyes on you, his eyes have the familiar twinkle in them. moving over to you, he cups your face in his hands and plants a kiss on your cheek. 

"love all of you too babe," he beams. "i'm going to go make breakfast, okay?" 

and with that, he all but skips out of the room, leaving you sitting on the bed, feeling unsettled and also just a little bit excited. 

maybe it was time to call mark again.

tags: @91qowngus, @joonpantheress, @sundhaelatte, @jaemboi64, @sassy-author, @krazy-kpoppy

[luxaofhesperides]

those who serve.

CHAPTER SIX: a break.

read the previous chapter here or the entire fic on ao3.

this is 11.5k.... this fic will never end..... surprise i still have no idea how long this will be. tentatively setting the goal to end at 9 chapters total. taglist will be in a rb, ask to be added or removed!

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Danny doesn’t sleep. He dozes lightly, enough for his thoughts to slow down without losing his awareness of the world around him, but he doesn’t sleep.

How can he? 

He didn’t find a shady basement full of illegal things. No, he found an entire cave used as a home base for Gotham’s heroes. 

It is a very nice cave. Not dark and wet and miserable at all, as he thought all caves were. It did have bats, though, but most stayed away from the main cavern. And it was big; multiple different levels, all full of different things. Part of him wants to go back to snoop around, but the larger, more wary and sensible part wants to run away and pretend this night never happened.

Danny stays in bed until the clock hits 7AM. Then he heaves a sigh and pulls himself out of bed, forgoing changing out of his pajamas in favor of walking through walls directly to the kitchen. He’s still reeling from what he’s discovered, torn between wanting to run away and wanting to learn more about them.

They’re heroes. Actual, legitimate heroes, and he works for them. When else is he going to get a chance like this?

But if they see him as a threat…

Well. It’s not like Danny has much. If he needs to, he can just walk out of the manor and never be seen again. 

Although, it might be a little harder now that he has a legal identity and they can put out a missing person report on him. 

The kitchen is dark and still when he arrives. Even Alfred isn’t up yet, it seems. Which makes sense; if he’s wrangling a bunch of heroes until three in the morning, he’d need to wake up later in the day to get enough sleep. Danny hopes it’s not a regular thing, staying up to help the rest of the Gotham heroes—who he still can’t believe are the Waynes—because that would mean Alfred had been forgoing sleep or running off of very little in order to have their dawn chats while Danny was living on the streets. 

He should make breakfast for Alfred.

The rest of the Wayne family can fend for themselves. Though he doubts any of them will wake up until much, much later. 

A large part of him still balks at rummaging through someone else’s kitchen without permission. Never mind that in order to do his job, he has to; his poor Midwestern heart demands he respect other people’s spaces. He has to push it down as hard as he can just to open the fridge and look through it, trying to think of what he can make. 

Nothing too difficult. He can barely make pasta dishes on his own and he still tenses when the fridge opens, fully prepared to take down reanimated food. 

There’s a lot of fresh vegetables and fruits. Milk and eggs, too. That’s… maybe something he can work with?

Danny pulls out a few fruits and sets them onto the counter next to the sink. It takes him a few seconds of indecision to decide on which knife to take from the knife block, then grabs the smallest one he can find, just to be safe.

It’s not like he needs a big one to peel and cut fruit. 

He makes a mess trying to get everything plated, apple peels of all different sizes scattered on the counter and strawberries bleeding down his hands as he cuts them into halves after removing the leafy heads. They don’t come up exactly even, but it’s good enough that Danny decides he can serve them to Alfred without shame. 

Cracking the eggs goes fine, after he’s done with the fruits. No pieces of shell fall into the greased frying pan and the yolk is intact until he accidentally hits it when trying to move the egg closer to the middle of the pan. Fuck it, he decides, frantically mixing it all together, scrambled eggs it is.

No one will know he messed up. No one.

He seasons the eggs lightly, then gets them on a separate plate. 

Fruits and eggs doesn’t seem very filling, so Danny hunts through the refrigerator once more and comes out with a tub of vanilla yogurt. He scoops it out into a small bowl then tops it off with granola and honey. 

Fruits, eggs, yogurt. That’s a breakfast, right? It’s the healthiest and fanciest breakfast he’s ever made. He certainly never got this back home, usually going for cereal or bread on the days he wasn’t running late to school. 

Danny sets everything onto the kitchen table, ready to wait for Alfred to wake up. Then he realizes he hasn’t set out anything to drink and panics, tearing through the cabinets like hurricane, frantically searching for tea.

This house doesn’t use teabags, he realizes with despite when he comes up boxes up boxes of loose tea leaves. 

Did people really drink it like this? How?

He brings down a box of English breakfast tea; it sounds perfect for Alfred, if only he knew how to brew it.

Despairing, Danny drops his head onto the counter and sighs heavily.

“That was quite the sigh,” a deep voice rumbles behind him. Danny jumps up to the ceiling, floating in the air as he tries to get away from Bruce, who has once again snuck up on him unnoticed. “Ah. Sorry for startling you,” Bruce offers.

It’s hard to believe this man is a vigilante who protects all of Gotham.

“It’s fine,” Danny replies weakly. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, I asked you first.”

“I supposed you did,” Bruce concedes with a small smile. “I just came up from the Batcave. I haven’t slept yet, and it’ll have to wait until I return to the manor after lunch.”

It’s even harder to believe that billionaire Bruce Wayne can call anything the Batcave with a straight face, yet here they are. This dimension is so bizarre. 

“I just came up to grab something to drink,” Bruce says. He turns his attention to the fridge, looking through it before he pulls out a carton of apple juice and pours himself a cup.

Slowly, Danny floats back down to the ground, silently setting his feet down. 

“Don’t tell the kids,” Bruce says as he takes a sip from his cup.

“Um. What?”

“That I’m drinking their juice. They each have their own juice that they are very protective of and they always get in fights over who else is drinking it, or ‘stealing it’ as they say.”

“And it’s you?”

“As I said. Don’t tell, Danny. Let me have my fun.”

“Sure, I guess.” He is amused by that, but the way Bruce is so casual and friendly with him despite having his secret identity be revealed makes Danny’s nerves stand on edge. It reminds him too much of Vlad, always acting friendly and nice to try and sway Danny over to his side, only to react violently when Danny refused.

“I’ll get out of your hair now,” Bruce says, putting his now empty cup down in the sink. “We’ll train later today. And we can talk about the family secret you’ve stumbled upon before you head to bed, alright?”

Not alright, not at all, but Danny did agree to training. Even if that was before he knew about Bruce being a vigilante. As much as he isn’t looking forward to it, he’s also not a quitter. He’ll worry about it more when the time comes. Surely that won’t end badly for him.

“Okay,” Danny says quietly. Bruce gives him a parting nod, then leaves the kitchen. Danny’s eyes follow him until he’s sure the man is gone, not yet ready to turn his back on him. As nice as Bruce has been, he’s also very dangerous. Now, Danny knows why but he’s been burned too many times to just believe someone when they claim to be a crime fighting hero.

Usually, he’s the crime they’re fighting, attacking him with prejudice when all he wanted was to protect people and ghosts from each other. 

He doesn’t even want to think about how things would have turned out if he hadn’t met Alfred, if the Wayne family—not a mob family but clearly just as dangerous—went after him without that buffer. Would they have driven him out of Gotham? Made sure he couldn’t be safe in this dimension either?

If things ever go too badly, maybe he can track down Martin Manhunter and beg for help?

There’s nothing more he can do now but see how it all turns out and prepare for the worst. No one else is in the kitchen, and when he strains his hearing, it’s clear that there’s no one nearby. Deeming it safe enough, Danny dares to turn his back to the kitchen entrance and return to his tea making struggle. 

Rummaging through drawers gets him a tea infuser he has no idea how to use. To think he used to complain about how long it took to make Jazz’s tea. At least she used tea bags like a normal person. 

This is rich people nonsense. This is too much effort for tea. Alfred will just have to do with some water, unless he also enjoys stealing other people’s juice.

He’s just starting to put the tea away when a knock on the doorframe startles him. Danny looks behind him and relaxes when he sees it’s only Alfred, looking as put together as ever despite the early hour.

“Good morning, Alfred,” he says, “I made you breakfast! And I tried to make you tea but I don’t actually know how to make it when it’s not in a tea bag.”

“Good morning, Danny. Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” Alfred smiles. “Have you already eaten?”

“Oh. No, not feeling very hungry right now.”

“I would prefer if you ate something. Sit, I will make something light for you.”

“No, no need! I can just eat like. Yogurt or something.”

He really doesn’t think he can stomach anything when he’s still reeling over the fact that his employers have a giant underground cave for crime fighting and has no idea how to interact with them anymore. They seem fine with his powers so far, but what happens when they start to see him as dangerous? Or worse, interesting?

Interesting is what gets him captured and cut open and studied. Danny doesn’t think he can survive that, halfa or not.

“Very well,” Alfred says, but Danny can see the way he forces back a frown, the line of his shoulder drawn tight. Before he can start fixing Danny a bowl, Danny ushers him into his seat and works on quickly taking care of his own small breakfast, leaving his yogurt plain. 

Alfred frowns at the amount he puts in his bowl, but doesn’t say anything. He waits until Danny sits across from him to thank him for the breakfast. 

They eat in silence, the silence not quite as comforting as it had been in the past. Danny’s too on edge to let his guard down any more, despite how much he wants to trust Alfred. He needs to see with his own eyes that the Waynes mean him no harm, that he can trust them to be good and let him live quietly and safely. 

When he can’t take the silence anymore, staring down at his empty bowl, Danny says, “Superheroes, huh.”

“I would be more than happy to answer any questions you have.”

There’s so much Danny wants to ask that it all crashes together into a tangled mess in his head. Instead of important questions like how often is the city in danger to need so many heroes or aren’t you afraid they’ll all die and you won’t be able to do anything about it, what comes out is, “When they asked who my favorite hero was at dinner, were they just looking for an ego boost?”

Alfred laughs, the lines in his brow smoothing out some. “Oh, yes. They are a rather vain lot when it comes to their night identities.”

It eases the tension in the air, makes it easier for Danny to relax enough to focus on the conversation and keep his mouth from running ahead of his mind. “So, I know Dick is Nightwing. Who’s everyone else?”

“They would be very excited to tell you themselves, but they’re also not going to wake up for many hours yet. I will tell you the basics, but I encourage you to ask them about this,” Alfred says. “Master Bruce is Batman. He is the very first vigilante in Gotham. He is among the first generation of heroes and a founder of the Justice League. Master Richard is Nightwing, as you’ve said, and he leads the Titans in New York when he is not here. Master Tim is Red Robin and often works with many other heroes and groups, such as the Teen Titans. Master Damian is the current Robin and Master Duke is the newest of us, operating in the day as the Signal.”

“That’s a lot.”

“There are more. Mistress Cassandra is Black Bat. She has recently returned from Hong Kong. Miss Barbara Gordon is Oracle, who is the leader of the Birds of Prey and works digitally. There are many others who operate within Gotham or visit the manor, and I’m sure you’ll meet them in due time.”

“Great,” Danny offers weakly. So many heroes, just in Gotham. He’s seen firsthand how bad it can be, all the crime and dangerous villain plots, but it’s also concerning to know that this world has such a need for all these heroes. He was enough in his old dimension, as Phantom. 

But he wouldn’t be enough here. There’s constant danger everywhere, and he realizes now that he’s taken the peace of him home dimension for granted. Admittedly, at the time, it didn’t seem like peace when he was dodging ghost hunters and the government and trying to wrangle ghosts. But all of that was mostly kept in Amity Park, and he was the person most affected by it so there weren’t many civilians getting caught in the crossfire. 

“Do they have powers?” he asks.

“No. All they do is a result of their own skill, hard work, and equipment.”

“So they’re just normal humans beneath the masks?”

“Yes, they are.”

The knowledge sends a chill down his spine. He would panic when Sam or Tucker or Jazz got caught in a ghost fight, even when they were equip with Fenton Blasters or something else that they could use to defend themselves. And that was just against ghosts! Here there are people waving around guns, fully prepared to kill, and the members of the Wayne family go out only in colorful armor? 

They could die so easily. All it would take is one good shot, one unlucky hit, and they’re gone forever.

“How do you stand it?”

“Pardon?”

“How do you stand watching them all go out and endanger themselves? How can you be fine with just staying here?”

Alfred leans back in the chair and looks to the window, gaze distant. “I am not fine. I never will be. But I also see how much good they are capable of, how many lives they save because they choose to risk themselves each night. They are all good, good people who want the world to be a better place and are willing to fight for it.”

He pauses for a long moment, lost in thought, then says, “I will always worry about them. Even when they go out as civilians. As much as I would like to keep them safe within these walls forever, I know that they would be unhappy living like that. It’s enough to know that they will do all they can to come home to me and be cared for. I tend to their wounds and ensure they can rest and heal in the manor. It is very rarely enough, but it’s better than nothing.”

“My parents hurt me,” Danny admits quietly. He keeps his gaze fixed on the table, trying to ignore how tense Alfred becomes, the heavy weight of his full attention. “When they found out what I am, what I can do, I just… stopped being their son and became their… prey? Target? Mission? I wish I had someone like you back then, because then it wouldn’t have hurt so much all the time. But all I had was my sister and my friends and they can’t do much against adults except help me escape.”

“I am so sorry, my boy, that you have had to suffer so much. But you’re here now, and I will take care of you, just as everyone else in this household will. You are not alone, Danny.”

Danny shrugs, slouching in his seat. “Thanks,” he mutters. 

“Well!” Alfred claps his hands together, the suddenness of the sound making Danny flinch, then he rises to his feet. “We have much to do today. Would you like to help me make breakfast for the rest of the household? Or would you like to tend to the vegetable garden?”

“What will I have to do for the vegetable garden?”

“Water the plants, pull any weeds, and also pick a few cucumbers and bell peppers, if you would.”

Danny offers Alfred a small salute and slides out of the chair. “I’m on it, boss!”

He ducks out the back door, grateful to be given an escape from the conversation and all the unpleasant memories it brought up, and takes his time walking to the vegetable garden. The sun is fully above the horizon now, and though it’s still cloudy, it’s not enough to block out the sunlight that rains down onto the garden. 

He hits up the small shed for a water can, then fills it up to the very top until it spills out whenever it’s jostled. He waters each raised bed, making sure the to get every inch of dirt thoroughly soaked.

It takes refilling the water can another four times before everything is watered and tended to. There are barely any weeds to pull, but he searches carefully just in case any escaped him the first time, then gets to carefully picking cucumbers and bell peppers, lifting up the hem of his shirt to create a makeshift basket. 

All of that takes the better part of an hour, which is apparently enough time for more people to wake up, and for Alfred to make a full spread of breakfast left on the kitchen island, while the man himself is nowhere to be found.

Damian is sitting at the table, eating, when he reenters the kitchen. Danny freezes for a moment and just looks at Damian, takes in how young he is, how small, and is horrified that anyone lets him out so late at night to fight crime.

“Good morning,” Damian says, setting down his fork, “As you now are aware of our secret identities, let it be known that if you endanger any of us, I will remove your limbs for your body. Slowly.”

“Sure,” Danny replies, distracted as he tries to get all the vegetables onto the counter without dropping any of them. “Sounds fair. Quick question: aren’t you too young to be fighting crime? Shouldn’t there be an age requirement or something?”

Damian scoffs. “I have trained since I could walk. I am made to be the heir to the Bat and the Demon’s head. I am more than capable of defeating the criminals of Gotham.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better about this whole situation.”

“It’s none of your business anyways. As long as you stay out of it, none of this will be a problem for you.”

“As long as I’m here, I won’t be able to stay out of it,” Danny says. “I just don’t have that kind of luck. The world always finds some way to screw me over.”

Damian doesn’t speak again, so Danny takes that as his cue to focus on putting all the vegetables away. There’s nothing more they can add to that conversation anyways, so Danny is more than happy to put it behind him and pretend at normalcy again. 

He wonders where Alfred went, wondering if it would be rude to just leave while Damian is still around to search for him. He’s still pondering it when Damian asks, quietly, “Do you really want nothing to do with our… night lives?”

The thing is, just two years ago, Danny would be jumping at the chance to be a hero. A proper  one, working alongside other heroes to save people. But a lot has changed since then. The Danny who existed back then was always moving, always trying out some new trick with his powers, always trying to juggle heroics and normal life. He was innocent. 

Or, at least, as innocent as anyone so familiar with death could be. 

As he is now, Danny is just tired. He doesn’t want people to get hurt, and he’ll protect them if he can, but he’s so tired of being scared and hated and hunted down. 

He’s a kid too. He was even more of a kid back when he was fourteen. 

Why did no one protect him?

That’s not a fair question to ask, really, because he did have his friends and his sister and a few ghosts who would do their best, but it wasn’t enough. 

“No,” Danny answers, voice hard. “I’m done with all of that. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Were you a vigilante too? Before you arrived here.”

Danny turns to face Damian and leans back against the counter. He doesn’t look at the kid, really, just at the floor in his general direction. “I don’t know.”

“How could you possibly not know? Either you are, or you aren’t.”

“It was complicated,” Danny snaps. “I was trying to protect everyone. But a lot of them didn’t see it that way. Just saw me as a threat, or am monster, or something. God, the government was out to get me.”

“Vigilantes are not usually well liked,” Damian says.

“Yeah, well, most vigilantes still get human rights. I got nothing. Everyone like me got classified as non-sentient, so we had no protections. If they wanted to experiment on us and cut us open, there was nothing stopping them.”

“And where was this taking place?” The clear rage in his voice startles Danny, makes him look up and warily eye the way Damian is gripping his fork, looking as if he wants nothing more than to bury into someone who’s wronged him.

“...It doesn’t matter,” Danny says slowly. “There’s nothing any of you can do. And it’s too far away to matter. Does that answer your question?”

Damian lets out a slow breath, forcing himself to call down. Danny can almost hear Jazz’s voice in his ear, counting slowly and saying Good! Now again, deep breath in and—

He shakes his head, trying to force her imagined voice away, and focuses on Damian’s controlled breathing; in, out, in, out, slowly each time.

“Every answer we get,” Damian says at last, “Brings up more questions. We will find where you came from. You can make things easier for us by just telling us your background.”

“Not a chance in hell, dude.”

Damian clicks his tongue and stands, holding his empty plate. “Very well. We’ll just investigate as we usually do. You won’t be able to keep your secrets from us forever.”

“I can do my best, though.”

“You will not be joining us as a vigilante,” Damian says again, putting his plate in the sink. 

Didn’t they just cover this? Was Danny not clear enough? 

“Right,” he confirms, “No heroics for me.”

“I will ensure you have proper protections befitting an associate of the Wayne family, then.”

Danny blinks. “What. Hey, wait, hang on. Didn’t we just talk about me not being involved in any of that?”

“Trackers,” Damian says, thoughtfully, steamrolling right on ahead, “A taser, of course. We’ll find a way to hide a few panic buttons on your person. Those will also have trackers, so if you should ever need help, we will be able to find you.”

“I really do not need any of that.”

“I will talk to father about it,” Damian nods.

“Don’t,” Danny starts to say, but somehow Damian is already out of the kitchen, leaving Danny behind absolutely bewildered by all directions their conversation went. 

Seriously, what was all that?

Danny huffs, then shakes his head. Not his problem. If it comes to it, he can just go invisible and run away until the Waynes learn to act like normal people. He pushes the entire conversation out of his mind and washes Damian’s plate, then sticks it onto the dish drying rack next to the sink. 

He’s not sure where Alfred is, so he busies himself with cleaning the kitchen, wiping the down the table and counters then straightening everything up. 

Some more poking around in the kitchen and the rooms and hallways beyond help him find where more cleaning supplies are. He considers mopping the kitchen, but figures that should be saved for after dinner, so any messes he makes while helping Alfred cooked won’t be messing up a newly cleaned floor.

By then, it’s well into the morning, just a few hours away from noon, and Danny hasn’t seen anyone else come by. 

He’s… uncomfortable being left unsupervised in someone else’s house like this. Sure, he lives here now, but it’s not his home. He’s just a new employee who doesn’t have any close bonds with anyone in the family. He spends way too long debating on whether he should stay in the kitchen and wait for someone to show up, or if he should go through the manor and find Alfred in order to get some instructions on what he should do. 

Eventually, Danny tires of pacing around restlessly and ventures away from the kitchen, poking his head into random rooms and straining his hearing to make sure no one sneaks up on him.

Not that it helps, when a chill races up his spine just before someone taps his shoulder.

Danny whirls around, stumbling away, and holds himself back from lashing out at Cass. 

She immediately takes five steps back, giving him space, and offers him a smile and a small wave. “Morning.”

“...Good morning,” Danny returns, looking over her carefully. Cass gives him his time, and he’s grateful that she backed off immediately, but he’s still rattled by the fact that she snuck up on him so easily. The space between them is reassuring, but he’s not foolish enough to think it’s anywhere close to enough if she actually wanted to hurt him.

Cass is a vigilante too. Black Bat, Alfred had said. It goes to stand that she’s as dangerous as the rest of them. He’s sure she’s the scariest of the bunch. There’s just something about her that makes every nerve in his body scream to alertness, prepared for a fight, waiting for a knife to slip into his ribs.

She doesn’t say a thing as he stares at her. Danny shifts his weight off one foot, trying to think of a way out of this situation, and comes up blank.

“So.” He cringes immediately at how he breaks the silence, then rolls with it. Might as well, really. It’s not going to get any worse from here. “Did you want breakfast?”

Cass shakes her head. “Not hungry for food. Hungry for snacks.”

“Oh, well I made cookies last night. I’m not sure where Alfred put them, though.”

She shakes her head again. “All gone.”

Danny blinks. “Huh?”

“Ate them all,” Cass explains, “Last night. Family meeting about you. Very good cookies.”

He’s… not going to unpack all that right now. Or ever, hopefully. “Cool. Which one did you like most?”

“Sugar cookie. The brown one?”

It takes a moment to remember which one that is, with all the cookies he made yesterday, but he recalls that particular batch quickly. “The brown sugar cookies!” 

“Yes!”

“I thought they were missing something, so I rolled them in cinnamon sugar. Alfred’s recommendation, really, I was just going to dump cinnamon in the dough. Turned out really good, though.”

“Very good,” Cass says again, nodding sagely. “Best cookies. Make more?”

“Uh, maybe later. I’m looking for Alfred right now?”

“He is calling Jason. I can… guide you?”

Cass offers a hand, still five steps away from him. There’s still plenty of space between them, enough for him to stay out of grabbing reach, but he can take her hand if he wants to. Or he can go intangible and just fall through the wall behind him. 

But she’s nice. Terrifying, of course, but nice. 

He got scared, and she moved back to give him space. She doesn’t push for questions or explanations, just treats him as if he’s always been here. 

Danny looks between Cass and her hand. 

He’s going to stay here. He’s staying for Alfred. And now he’s staying because the Wayne family regularly endanger themselves and it makes Alfred upset. He can wonder about running away all he wants; Danny knows himself and he knows he’s here to stay.

He didn’t even run from his parents until they tried to kill him for good, captured him and had the basement prepped for his vivisection. There’s a chance he can make something of himself here, to create someplace he can be safe, and he can’t afford to lose it.

He takes Cass’s hand.

“Yeah, okay. Take me to Alfred, please?”

“Okay,” Cass says, a bright smile on her face. She turns and leads him down the hall, her grip loose and easy to break from. Danny doesn’t let it break.

Cass is both dangerous and kind. Danny’s survived all sorts of dangerous people before. If he can just get his brain to chill out, then he can act normal around her and the rest of the Waynes. He can do this.

She leads him through the manor with ease, as if she could navigate it blind, and opens a door to a little balcony on the second floor that Danny didn’t know about. Alfred turns to face them as soon as the door opens, phone held up to his ear, and he gives them a smile and waves them in, inviting them to sit on the small bench. Cass sits him down on one of the cushions tied to the bench, then pats his head.

“Still training today?” she asks.

“Apparently,” Danny answers with a grimace. “Think I can get out of it?”

“No. Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

That’s not really reassuring, but it is nice to know that he won’t be locked in a room alone with Bruce and forced to fight his boss. That’s got to be against some labor law. Sam would probably know.

Cass leaves, giving him one last wave from the door, then disappears back into the manor.

Alfred looks out over the grounds, nodding lightly to whatever Jason is saying. Danny doesn’t want to eavesdrop, so he just bounces his leg and stares up at the cloudy sky, wondering if he’d be able to see the stars on a clear night. 

“I shall speak to you again soon, Master Jason,” Alfred says, barely a minute later. “Yes, do take care of yourself. Until next month, then.” And his phone is put away in one smooth movement. Alfred straightens out his waistcoat, then turns to Danny. “I apologize for being away for so long. Are you ready to start the day?”

“Sure. It’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? So what’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” Alfred says, looking Danny over thoughtfully. “If you would be willing, there are some lightbulbs that need changing and chandeliers to be dusted. It’s difficult for most people to reach these, but if you are able to fly up and take care of these tasks…”

The thought of causally using his powers out in the open makes his skin crawl with nerves, but it’s too late to try to keep it a secret. He did float down into their secret crime fighting cave. There was no way he was ever going to keep that from the Waynes. 

Honestly, if all they want is for him to use his powers for mundane things like this, it’s not bad. Definitely better than being tested and observed like some newly discovered creature. 

Alfred just wants some help with household tasks, and Danny’s powers make it easy for him to do them. That’s all.

“Sure,” Danny says, “I can do that.”

It’s normal. Normal enough, anyways.

As long as they keep to this facade of normality, he’ll be fine.

Bruce Wayne apparently does not care to be normal. 

.

.

.

This is more a rich people are different from the rest of humanity than it is this is top secret hero stuff. Who has a giant gym in their house complete with a pool and a locker room? On top of a giant crime fighting cave? 

It’s absurd.

Danny stares at his locker—complete with his name on it, so he doesn’t accidentally open someone else’s—and wonders what, exactly, a training session with Bruce Wayne is going to look like. He had been expecting basic exercises to see where he’s at, something close to what he does at school in P.E. Now he has to factor in weights, treadmills, and a boxing ring. There’s also ceiling to floor mirrors on one wall and a large section of the room covered in a thick mat, with only a single martial arts dummy on it. 

He tries very hard to ignore the wooden swords and bo staffs hanging on the wall. He’s definitely not touching those while other people are around.

Sighing, he decides that putting off this training session isn’t going to make it end any faster and opens his locker. 

There’s a set of training clothes already set inside for him. He’s sure it’s perfectly his size. He’s just not going to think too hard about how they managed to get his size at all. 

Though the locker room is empty, he doesn’t want to change out in the open. He was the same way in school, and though this often got him teased by the football team for his ‘insecurities’, they quieted down when they saw his scars. Dash never asked about it, but he was always careful afterwards to make sure Danny’s shirt never rode up and revealed anything when he tossed Danny around. 

He peeks around the locker room before he hurries into the changing stall, paranoid that he’s being watched somehow. He changes quickly and, sure enough, everything fits him perfectly.

The only problem is that the shirt he was given is short sleeve. Th Lichtenberg scar, made permanent by his death and the ectoplasm that flooded his system at the same time as the electricity of the portal, is clearly visible. The white scar tissue branches down his arm all the way to his wrist, wide and ugly. 

He really doesn’t want any questions about it. 

Danny takes off the shirt, then puts his long sleeve shirt back on. He can train just fine in it, and if they have a problem with it, they can order him a long sleeve shirt for training.

He takes his clothes to his locker and shoves them in, then takes a few minutes to just breathe, trying to force his nerves away long enough that he can walk out to Bruce without feeling nauseous. 

When he finally manages to force his feet to move, Cass and Damian are in the gym as well. 

Cass he expected after their morning conversation. Damian is a surprise, and it seems like the boy is trying to act as if he’s not here to watch Danny train, using one of the wooden swords to go through a series of careful movements. 

Bruce is waiting on the mat next to the dummy, and he nods when he sees Danny approach. “Come here,” he says, “We’ll do some stretching first, then we’ll see where you are in self-defense.”

Cass looks them both over with a sharp eye, then walks away to pull out a yoga mat and set it just outside the mats. She effortlessly goes into a handstand, then goes down onto her forearms and lowers her legs into a split.

“You’re not expecting me to do that, right?” he asks, looking at Bruce.

He smiles, a small thing that softens the serious expression he had been sporting, and shakes his head. “No, not at all. We’ll just do basic stretches. After me, now.” And with that, he immediately gets started, rolling out his shoulders and stretching his arms and wrists, then dropping down into a forward fold. Danny does his best to follow along, glancing up often to make sure he’s doing everything right.

Stretching is easy.  He’s definitely not as flexible as Bruce or Cass, but he doesn’t do too badly. At the very least, he can press his palms flat to the floor in a forward fold. 

They’re just finishing up, rolling out their necks, when the door to the gym is pushed open and Tim comes in. “Have we started yet?” he asks, looking a mess. His hair is windswept and tangled and he’s sporting a split lip that he didn’t have yesterday.

“Do I want to know,” Bruce says, and Tim grins.

“Know what? I’ve been having a peaceful, relaxing day. Quit worrying so much, it’s bad for your heart.”

Damian scoffs, swinging his sword down at an angle. “As if any of us would ever believe that you’re not causing messes for us to clean up.”

“What’s that, Gremlin? You’re looking for a sparring partner? You should have said so sooner!” And Tim’s grabbing a bo staff from the wall and throwing himself at Damian without any warning.

Danny makes an aborted sound in the back of his throat, torn between yelling for Damian to watch out and Tim to stop, but Damian isn’t phased at all. He scowls harder and blocks Tim’s attack, then hits back. The heavy thud of their weapons hitting each other echo through the gym, but neither of them get hurt. They dodge each hit expertly, dancing circles around each other, fighting gracefully in ways Danny has never seen. 

Bruce clears his throat and Danny snaps his attention back to the man in front of him. 

“Why don’t we begin with something easy,” Bruce says. “Punch me.”

“What?”

“Punch me,” Bruce repeats. 

Danny stares at him. “I don’t want to hurt you. Aren’t you supposed to teach me how to defend myself, not attack other people?”

“Both require the same skills. The only difference is in how you choose to use it. Now, punch me.”

Slowly, Danny lifts an arm, curling his fingers into a fist, and looks up at Bruce’s face to make sure this is fine. Bruce looks unimpressed, waiting for him to move.

He throws a weak punch at Bruce’s abdomen and is entirely unsurprised when his wrist is grabbed and held in place easily.

“Again,” Bruce says, “And do it seriously, this time.”

Okay. 

Okay, he can do this.

Danny steps back, giving himself some space, and takes a deep breath. He’s fought plenty of people before. Mostly ghosts, but still. He can figure out how to fight hand to hand without using any of his powers. He can hold back his strength. He can do it.

He shifts his stance, standing with his feet shoulder width apart, a more stable base, and lifts his hands in front of his face, not curling them into fists but holding them loose. Just as his mother taught him, before she started handing him and Jazz weapons to familiarize themselves with. 

Bruce is a vigilante, he reminds himself. They all are. They know how to fight and how to defend themselves. They have plenty of experience and he’s sure they’ve already come up with ways to take him out if they need to. 

Danny lets out one last fortifying breath, then looks up at Bruce, who is watching him with a shrewd gaze. Whatever he sees makes him nod approvingly and shift his own stance, no longer casually standing in place but ready to move.

“I will try to stay at human power levels,” Danny says, one last warning before they really begin. “Stop me if I go too far.”

“I can handle anything you throw my way, Danny. Don’t worry about me. This is about helping you be able to protect yourself.”

No more stalling. 

Danny darts forward, throwing out a punch. Bruce takes a single step back, twisting to the side so Danny’s fist sails past his body, and sweeps out a leg to trip him. Danny’s already moving, trying to get to Bruce’s back, get out of his line of sight, staying light on his feet. 

Distantly, he’s aware of the sound of Tim and Damian’s battle falling silent, but he can’t focus on it as he tries to strike Bruce’s pressure points, darting in and out so he can’t be grabbed. His mother’s old lessons come back to him, body falling into that familiar rhythm, and it’s enough to make him slip up, use a little too much strength.

Bruce staggers back two steps, then is grabbing Danny’s arm and tossing him over his shoulder before Danny can process what’s happening. 

Instinct has him floating in place, then his legs shoot out and kick Bruce in the chest, using it as a springboard to jump off of to get some distance between them. 

“Good,” Bruce says, giving him a moment to catch his breath. “You’ve had training before.”

“My mom is ninth-degree black belt in mixed martial arts. She taught me a few things.”

“We’ll need to see where you might need some improvements. Otherwise, I give you permission to use your powers against me.”

Danny drops his hands in shock, coming out of his ready stance. “Wait, seriously? I could really hurt you!”

“I promise you, Danny, you really can’t,” Bruce says. “Remember, I’m Batman. I’ve fought gods and monsters before.”

“I don’t know…”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with Danny, even if it means you only stick to flying.”

That’s… reasonable. He does fly a lot; he loves flying. It’s the best part of being a halfa, really. And most of his fights involve him flying. Having to stay on the ground puts him at a disadvantage, and if they really want to train him up to hero standards—

No. He’s not going to be a hero in this world. He’s going to live a quiet, normal life as best he can and he won’t be flaunting his powers around in a world he’s unfamiliar with. 

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, Danny refocuses on the training match and nods. “Flying only,” he says.

He’s up in the air before Bruce can move, darting around him, then ramming into his side like a bulldozer. This, he didn’t learn from his mother. He learned it from Cujo.

Bruce grunts, his breath knocked out of him, and grabs Danny. There’s a brief moment of struggle where Danny tries to get away, but he’s laid out on the floor before he can go intangible.

The lights above him are blinding. Bruce towers above him, all broad shoulders and heavy muscle, looking down, and his face is shadowed enough that is makes Danny’s heart stop and he sees—

Dad, wait, it’s me! Stop, please!

His father wasn’t smiling. There was no manic grin, no booming laughter, no victory cry for catching Phantom. Just his father standing above him, expressionless, as he held up a Fenton Thermos and—

Bruce reaches for him—

“Stop!”

Before anyone can move, before Danny can come back to his sense and make his brain understand that it’s not his father standing before him, ready to capture him and treat him like a thing to be cut open, before he can say anything more, the air shifts.

Cass is there, suddenly and without warning, and slams into Bruce, then tosses him over her shoulder and onto the mats. She kneels with one knee on his chest, keeping him pinned down, and steel in her eyes.

“We’re done,” she says. “Time for a break. Snacks.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Bruce relaxes and nods. “Right. This is enough for today. I’ll make a light training regime for Danny so he can protect himself both with and without his powers. Boys,” he says, looking to where Tim and Damian have been watching them, “If you want to continue training, do so in the Batcave. Don’t use flimsy excuses to learn more about Danny.”

“What excuse? I genuinely wanted to beat Damian up,” Tim retorts, and follows it up with a soft whack to the back of Damian’s head.

“As if you could beat me!”

They’re back to tussling a moment later, weapons thrown aside in favor of slapping the shit out of each other.

It would make him laugh in any other circumstance. As it is, Danny’s frozen, heart jackrabbiting in his chest, staring at where Cass is keeping Bruce pinned, keeping him safe from the man who resembles his father in the lowlight. 

He can’t focus on much more than them, frantically trying to piece together the last two minutes to make sure he’s safe, it was just Bruce, everything’s fine. He may have yelled for Bruce to stop, but he’s sure that Cass was moving even before then.

Somehow, she had known that he needed to get out of that situation. Needed distance from Bruce. Needed protection.

And she had given it to him.

Dangerous and kind indeed.

“Go,” she says, pulling Bruce back up to his feet. “I will stay with him.” She doesn’t give him any time to argue, pushing him towards the door. 

Then she shoots Tim and Damian a look and they immediately disengage from their fight. Damian tosses his wooden sword over to Tim, who snatches it out of the air without even looking at it and puts both their weapons back on the wall. They leave within a minute, closing the door behind them.

A stillness settles over the room, the world gone quiet now that it’s just him and Cass.

He’s shaking, he realizes. His hands tremble where they rest on his chest and it takes far too much effort to force himself to sit up.

Cass doesn’t comment on it. She just sits down next to him, giving him enough space that he feels comforted by her presence rather than trapped.

“Sorry about that,” Danny manages to say at last, forcing the words out. His voice is rough and his heart feels like it’s been scrapped over with sandpaper.

“No.”

“What?”

“No sorries. Bruce went too far. Saw you weren’t… safe? Did not stop, so I made him.”

“I’m still sorry you had to get involved.”

“Danny,” she says, then waits until he looks at her. “It’s okay. I always beat Bruce. It’s good for him to lose sometimes.”

He can’t help but smile a bit. Between her and Tim, he can see that Bruce’s kids really enjoy causing him trouble. That’s how it’s supposed to be with siblings; everyone teams up against the parents. All siblings have to unionize, that’s how every world works.

“Thanks.”

Cass reaches out a hand. This time, Danny doesn’t hesitate to take it. 

They sit in silence for a long time. His heart settles down and the last of his fear dissipates; the guilt of being so terrified of just the idea of his father towering over him remains, but that’s something he’s sure will accompany him for the rest of his life. Cass doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t push for conversation, and simply waits patiently as he regains him composure.

As much as he’d like to, he can’t hide away in the gym forever. 

He begins to stand and Cass follows him up, keeping hold of his hand. She looks him over carefully, then nods and pushes him towards the locker room.

“You’re not going to ask questions about…” Danny waves a hand through the air, “All this, right?”

“No questions,” Cass reassures. “Tell when you want to. Even bad memories are important. Yours to keep.”

“Okay. Thanks for being so cool about all this.”

Cass gives him a sunny smile. “Go. Change. I will get Alfred.”

Danny offers a weak salute, then heads off to the locker room to change, happily chucking off his training clothes and dropping them into the laundry chute. 

Training was a disaster in a different way than he expected, but either way, he’s relieved it’s over. Now, all they have to do is pretend his little panic never happened and they can all move on with their lives.

Alfred must see that resolve on his face when he exits the gym. Danny isn’t asked any questions as they walk through the halls, simply told about the chores that need to be completed. They don’t come across any members of the Wayne family and Danny can’t help but feel that’s purposefully, that they’re avoiding him to keep him from getting spooked and running away.

Danny takes over dusting the high rafters and corners of the ceiling, sneezing when a particularly strong sweep of the duster over the top of a hanging light fixture brings up a cloud of dust. Below him, Alfred vacuums and straightens out rooms, calling out directions to help Danny get everything clean.

Once the sun begins to set, Alfred sends Danny to the kitchen while he puts away all their cleaning supplies. Dinner prep has apparently been taken care of while he was training with Bruce; all Danny has to do is start the oven and pull everything out of the fridge. 

He wants to offer to set the table, be more helpful, but the thought of seeing everyone again has his throat tightening up, bringing up the residual panic that hasn’t left him since he fell through the Infinite Realms into the streets of Gotham. Instead of helping more with dinner, Alfred pulls out a thick recipe book, paged faded with age, and sets him on making a cake for dessert. 

Danny manages to get all the ingredients together, measured carefully and mixed slowly so none of the flour spills out of the bowl. He does well enough that Alfred decides he can safely leave Danny without any supervision in order to bring dinner to the dining table where the Wayne family waits. 

In the time he’s alone, Danny tries very hard not to mess anything up, folding in melted chocolate into the batter. 

He works slowly enough that Alfred is able to return before Danny tries to hunt down a baking pan. He wordlessly pulls one out of a cabinet and sprays it with cooking oil before setting it on the counter next to Danny, watching with a shrewd eye as Danny pours out the batter, using a rubber spatula to scrape batter down from the sides of the bowl.

“Very good,” Alfred comments, then instructs Danny to lift the baking pan and drop it onto the counter gently a few times to break any air bubbles in the batter. 

They get it in the oven and start the timer after that. Alfred pulls out another mixing bowl and gets to work making buttercream frosting, showing Danny how to separate the egg whites from the yolk. 

Danny is not ready to try it on his own, but it’s cool to see how it’s done. Alfred does everything so precisely, with clean movements and nothing wasted. It’s beyond impressive. Danny can only hope he can emulate some of that one day.

The smell of rich chocolate cake fills the kitchen and Danny feels his mouth start watering. He hasn’t had much to eat since lunch, and even that was small. For once, he’s feeling hungry enough to eat a horse, and is a strange mix of embarrassed and elated when his stomach growls loudly.

“Oh my,” Alfred laughs, “I see that cake never fails to wake a boy’s appetite.”

Danny shrugs sheepishly, and allows Alfred to usher him into a chair at the kitchen table. He watches as Alfred bustles around the kitchen, whipping together a quick meal of sauteed radishes, sliced in halves and with the leaves included, and a wrap so full Danny worried it would burst when he bit into it. 

It’s a bigger meal than what he’s used to, made with larger portions and heavier ingredients, but all the events of the day have drained him of enough energy that Danny all but devours his dinner. He even brings out his fangs to tear into the wrap more easily, eating quickly to sate his hunger. 

“How are you liking your food, Danny?”

“It’s delicious!” he answers with his mouth full.

“Do try to avoid talking with food in your moth,” Alfred gently reprimands, and Danny shoots him a thumbs up, trying to chew faster.

“I can have some of the cake later, right?”

“Of course. So long as you finish your dinner, then I will give you the first slice.”

Danny clears his plate in record time and has everything washed and dried by the time the oven beeps. Alfred opens the oven door, flooding the kitchen with warmth and an even strong aroma of chocolate, then slides on a pair of Batman oven mitts; they’re black, with a bat symbol on the back and little white eyes glaring out from the fingertips, and have little bat eats sticking out from the tops. He has to bite back a laugh and wonders how much of their own merch the Wayne family owns. 

“Now we must wait for it to cool down before we can frost it,” Alfred says, setting the cake down on the counter. 

“Can I use my powers to help it cool faster?”

“How do you intend to do that?”

“Well,” Danny says, holding up a hand, “I can make ice.” He lets his fingers frost over, his ice the pale blue of an iceberg’s submerged bottom. “I can freeze the counter space around and under the cake.”

Alfred looks intrigued, which is a good sign. “Would it not melt?”

“Not unless I want it to.”

“Then by all means, Danny.” He steps back to give Danny space to work, watching as Danny presses his fingers to the counter and lets the ice spread from the point of contact, circling the cake. He pushes his ice to be a few degrees cooler than usual and feels the chill race up his arms. 

It’s comfortable for him, but he knows he shouldn’t touch anyone until he warms back up. Sam and Tucker have told him plenty of times that he’s colder than ice after he uses his powers, a biting kind of cold that always hurt their hands. 

“It should be cool enough soon,” he says, stepping back from the counter and shaking out his hands.

“Thank you, Danny. Would you mind keeping the frosting cool as well?”

“No problem, Alfred!” He ices over the frosting bowl; it’s not quite as cold as the ice on the counter, but enough to keep the frosting chilled. “Do you want me to do anything else?”

Alfred thinks it over for a moment, then shakes his head. “Not at the moment, no. Go take a break. I’ll wash up and get everyone’s dishes. Master Bruce would like to speak to you as well, when you’re ready.”

Oh, great. No more running from questions, it seems. 

His mood plummets immediately, but he still forces up a smile for Alfred. “You got it. I’ll just… wait for him to get me, then.”

He’s out of the kitchen before Alfred can offer an platitudes, wandering aimlessly until he ends up in the grand foyer. He flies up to the ceiling and sits upside down, legs crossed, and tries not to think about training and all the explanations he doesn’t want to give. 

His thoughts drift towards Amity and he misses it with an ache. He never planned to stay there forever, already looking for out of state college options, joining the rest of his class in wanting to leave and find their way into the wider world. 

But all he wants now is an hour at Nasty Burger with his friends, a trip to the bookstore with Jazz, the familiar shared panic as everyone on the road tried to avoid the Fenton AV whenever his parents decided to go grocery shopping. Hell, he even misses Caspar High and the stress of having his work pile up as he fought ghosts and ghost hunters and his own procrastination. He misses the park where he’d play fetch with Cujo. He misses flying through the clear skies of Amity, the way the lights of the city shone up to him from where he rested high above it all. He misses the empty fields and forests and the clear air that Gotham will never have. 

Danny is so far from home. He doesn’t think he can ever go back.

Would he even have a home if he found some way back to his original dimension? 

His parents know the truth now. They captured Phantom, trapped him in the Fenton Thermos, and when they opened it again, Danny came out. He transformed immediately, full of panic and fear, begging for something as his mother sank into denial, shooting at him, while his father was emotionless and Jazz was screaming as a distraction, for him, at being pushed down by her parents as they focused all their attention on Danny. 

The last thing he ever heard from his home was Jazz screaming I hate you! How could you! Danny is⁠—

And then the Infinite Realms wrapped him in its embrace and took him away. 

“Danny?”

Danny jolts and falls from the ceiling. His stomach drops and he braces himself for impact, too out of it to use any of his powers. Instead of hitting the floor, he crashes into someone’s chest, their arms wrapping around him to hold him steady.

He blinks his eyes open and looks up at Bruce, who gives him a moment to collect himself, then sets him down on his feet. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Danny says, voice hoarse. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just startled.”

“If you don’t feel up for a conversation⁠—”

“No, no, let’s just get this over with. The sooner the better, right?” He offers Bruce a strained smile, but it falls from his face quickly.

“Alright,” Bruce says slowly. “Let’s head up to my office.”

He guides Danny up the stairs, keeping a heavy hand on his shoulder. It makes Danny feel trapped, but he’s too tired to get away. He’s resigned to this happening and just wants it to be over already. 

When the door closes the behind them, it sounds final in Danny’s ears. He sinks into the armchair off to the side of Bruce’s office, rather than taking one of the more uncomfortable chairs in front of his desk.

Bruce sits across from him on the lounge couch, elbows on his knees and his fingers steepled together.

“Danny,” he begins. “I know you’ve had a stressful day, but it’s important that we discuss this now.”

“Discuss what,” Danny says tiredly. He’s not asking, not really, just trying to lead Bruce to where they need to go.

“You are aware of our identities as Gotham’s vigilantes.”

“I’m still not very familiar with any vigilantes. I don’t really know anything other than your names.”

“But you know our identities. You know where we live and where we operate from. This is dangerous information; in the wrong hands, it will destroy us and leave Gotham to be torn apart from the inside by all the corruption we work to keep off the streets.”

Irritation prickles down his spine. Danny knows how important secret identities; look at what happened to him when he was discovered. Logically, he knows Bruce has no way of knowing this, but emotionally, Danny wants to snap at him, hurl insults and accusations to distract from his own hurt.

“This must remain secret,” Bruce continues, leaning forward some. “We will know if you reveal this information to anyone.”

“If you’re going to threaten me, can you just do it outright?”

Bruce blinks, then leans back, his brow furrowed. “What?”

Danny sighs and folds his arms across his chest, holding himself in a mockery of a hug as he looks away. “I get it, this is a big deal and having an outsider suddenly in the know is a huge risk. But I also need you to consider who I am.”

“And who are you, Danny?”

“A homeless runaway freak of nature. I have no support in Gotham. I have no one outside of Alfred that I can rely on in this country. You talk as if I have any power over you, but I don’t. Who would I even go to? Who would believe me?”

“Reporters would pay a lot for information like this⁠—”

“That’s not the point,” Danny interrupts, a bite in his voice. “The point is that even if I know all your identities, you’re still the one who has power here. I am entirely dependent on you for housing, food, safety. You’re my boss. The only reason I have anything, including a legal identity, is because of you. And you can take it away at any time.”

“I wouldn’t⁠—”

“People can excuse anything when they’re desperate enough.”

Bruce falls silent, staring at Danny with dark eyes. His expression is unreadable, as warm as stone, and Danny tenses in preparation for something awful; being fired, or kicked out, or imprisoned. 

“No matter how good they think they are, or try to be,” Danny continues, his voice growing quieter, more tired, “When the time comes, they’re willing to do anything to get what they want. No matter who you are to them. No matter what they have to do to you.” He looks over to Bruce, finally meeting his gaze. “Do you understand? You don’t have to threaten me because my entire existence here is a threat to my survival. I can only hope that everyone will be kind for another day before they decide I’ll be better off being cut open by scientists and studied.”

“Is that what happened to you? Why you ran away?”

“That isn’t important. It’s none of your business.”

Bruce frowns. “If it puts you in danger, it is my business, as you’re a minor in my care.”

“I am always in danger, okay? The details don’t matter. If you make me talk about it, I’ll run away and make sure no one can ever find me again. Got it?”

“Understood,” Bruce says after a tense moment. “I won’t push. But if you ever want to talk⁠—”

“Yeah, no. Not going to happen. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

He leans back, straightening up. “There is. In regards to training⁠—” 

Here it is. Danny just said he didn’t want to talk about, so Bruce hops right into the next topic of conversation that will make them talk about it.

“⁠—You have a good foundation to grow from. It would benefit you to learn how to handle a few of our weapons as well, and if there’s something you want to learn that we can’t provide for you, we can find someone else to train you. I will need to know what your triggers are so I can avoid frightening you as I did today.”

“I don’t have triggers,” Danny says, “I just don’t trust anyone but Alfred and Cass to not really hurt me. It’s just how it is.”

“...Very well.”

“Is that all?”

Bruce nods. “For now, yes. I know one of your conditions was not being involved in our nightlife, but if you’d ever like to learn more or see more of the Batcave⁠—properly, this time⁠— then we’d be more than happier to lead you through it.”

His gut reaction is to turn it down immediately, to ensure he doesn't have anything to do with their ‘nightlife.’ But Alfred’s involved.

All Danny is here to do is help Alfred, and that apparently includes wrangling vigilantes into surviving each night and being tended to. He already knows he’s going to join Alfred down there one day, but he’s not ready for it yet.

“Maybe some time in the future,” Danny offers. “Not any time soon, though.”

“That’s fine, Danny. We’ll go at your pace.”

A knock on the door stops the conversation from continuing. Damian opens the door and comes in before he has permission.

“Are you finished yet?” he asks, looking between Danny and Bruce.

“Uh, just about. Why?” Danny replies.

“We cannot eat any cake until you have the first slice.”

Conversation fully over; Danny has cake to eat and he needs to get to it right away. It’s way more important that talking to Bruce about his trauma and the family’s secret vigilante activities. 

“Sweet, let’s go get cake.”

He stands and Damian turns back to the door, ready to go. He stops at the doorway and glances back to Bruce, then asks, “Is he to remain aware of our nightly activities?”

“Yes, he is,” Bruce answers.

“I will be showing you where all the supply caches in the manor are,” Damian tells Danny. “They will hold either weapons, first aid kits, or fire extinguishers. It is crucial to memorize the location of all of them in the event of an emergency.”

“Isn’t this place safe? I mean, you all live here.”

“We hold events here, unfortunately,” Damian scowls. “There’s a gala coming up, in fact. You will need to know all of this before it begins. We shall start after we eat cake.”

From what he’s seen and heard of Gotham so far, this really is for the best. If this were Amity Park, Danny would call this behavior overly paranoid. Here, it’s an appropriate level of preparedness. 

“After cake,” he agrees, following Damian as he leads the way out of Bruce’s office .

He’ll worry about everything else after that promised first slice. As long as he’s got Alfred on his side, he’ll deal with anything thrown his way.

.

.

.

(“Don’t push,” Cass warns. “He’s like me. Will run.”

Tim sighs and slumps against the counter. “I just need to know more in order to help him! Come on, Cass, don’t tell me you don’t want to beat up everyone who’s ever hurt him.”

“Only if he wants to tell us,” she says, firm in her stance. 

Alfred nods approvingly from where he’s slicing the recently frosted cake. Danny’s ice remains on the counter, and he makes a mental note to ask the boy to remove it before he goes to sleep. 

“Miss Cassandra is right,” he interjects when Tim opens his mouth to speak, trying to find some way to change Cass’s mind. “Danny has had a difficult life and needs time and space to trust us and feel safe in the manor. I will not allow anyone to push him more than he can handle, simply because they could not handle their own curiosity.”

“You’d better tell that to Bruce, then. You really think he won’t interrogate Danny?”

Alfred sets down the cake knife with more slightly more force than necessary. “He has been warned. Should I hear that he did not take my warning lightly, I will ensure he faces the consequences of disregarding Danny’s needs.”

“Well,” Tim says, “You’ve got me and Cass to back you up. Danny will be fine with the three of us in his corner.”

“I do hope so,” Alfred replies. Cass is looking towards the kitchen door, so he begins to plate some of the slices. She has a sixth sense for knowing when someone is approaching, and when she’s around, Alfred takes his cues from her to make sure everything is prepared when they enter the room. 

Sure enough, just as he’s finished plating the last slice, the door opens and Damian enters with Danny trailing after him, looking paler and wrung out. 

It seems he will have to remind Bruce about Danny’s boundaries. Tim and Cass will be pleased to take on this new mission, and from the look in Damian’s eye, so will the youngest Robin.

Good. 

He won’t let anyone push Danny out of the manor. Not while he still has breath in his body.)

[sungbeam]

[𝟏𝟏:𝟑𝟐𝐏𝐌] — park sunghoon x gn!reader

0.5k words, fluff, a moment in time w hoon

a/n: i do enjoy writing soft moments a lot more recently tbh :/ kinda weird to not be writing angst all the time tho lol i hope u all aren't tired of the sleepy time drabbles yet jsdbdk

"I didn't know you wore glasses."

Park Sunghoon glanced up from the pages of the book propped open in his lap while his knuckles rested against his lips. It was quite the picture, and you leaned against the doorframe to the bedroom with an ill-concealed smile. 

He chuckled. "Oh, well, I usually wear contacts during the day, but once I've showered, I…" he gestured to the thin, silver lenses seated on his pretty, sculpted nose. The image enhanced with his slightly damp, silver-blond hair just barely hanging over his frames. 

"They look cute on you." You had just finished showering after him, your body clad in a simple T-shirt and pajama shorts. You padded over to the bed and climbed in beside him. "What're you reading?" You mused while slipping under the covers. 

Sunghoon adjusted the blankets, throwing them over you. He rested his right hand over the book to keep his page, but then pulled you into his chest with his other. He hummed, hand running gently over your back. "Just this book."

"Don't be embarrassed. I can read what's on it." You poked his stomach teasingly, your cheek squished against his chest. Your eyes glanced over the words and ink on the pages, but they quickly drifted closed as you let yourself sink into the smell of Sunghoon's body wash lingering all over his skin and clothes. 

All the while, Sunghoon combed his fingers through your wet strands and inhaled the aroma of your shampoo and conditioner. He was addicted to the scent—he'd even made sure to buy you a set of your soaps for his bathroom for moments you wanted to shower here and stay over. (And he hoped you would do it more often, because if he was being completely honest, moments like this he wished he could freeze in time.) 

Sunghoon chuckled softly; he knew you were already settling in for sleep, rather than an evening of reading with him. You'd had a long day. "I'll tell you in the morning, bubs. How about that?"

You yawned, head nuzzling into his chest. "Hm, okay. Read to me though? Your voice is nice."

If you'd seen the pink dusting his cheekbones, you would have never let him live it down. 

Sunghoon cleared his throat. "Oh—sure." 

He skimmed the page for the place he had stopped at when you walked in, but as he opened his mouth to begin reading, his ears picked up the faint sound of your soft, even breathing. He couldn't help the slight tilt of his lips. 

"Sweet dreams," he murmured, brushing the hair from your forehead, then adjusting the blanket draped over you. 

Sunghoon bookmarked his place and set the novel aside, folding up his glasses next to it on the nightstand. He simply couldn't resist curling up with you now. The lights were turned off, the room was doused in serene silence, and Sunghoon gently found his place with you in his arms.

a/n: more cuddles yeah ik 🤕 don't forget to rb and/or tell me ur thoughts !

enha m.list

permanent taglist: @tayunji @im-a-big-mess @staysstrays @y3jiishot @crazywittysassy @seomisaho @stopeatread @enhacolor @yedammi @rnjfy @jaehunny1428 @w3bqrl @smolpeyy @otchae @luv4vernon @shakalakaboomboo @ashxxkook @parkjusing

[sagesolsticewrites]

touchstarved | Austin Butler x gn!reader

a/n: i was feeling incredibly touchstarved tonight and… this was the result dkfjadkfjh 

Word count: 942

Warnings: touch starvation, implications of depression?, reader is Not Doing Great mentally tbh (but it’s okay! happyish ending!!), would this qualify as hurt/comfort?? idk dkjghsdkh, I think that’s it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

Masterlist | add yourself to my taglist!

day 59 since Austin had left for Australia.

nearly two months since you’d felt his arms around you at the airport, warm whispers in your ear of see you soon and i love you and get home safe and i’ll call you the second i land.

and he had. in fact, he had been diligent about calling you nearly every day, even if it was just for a few minutes, just to hear your voice, and sending you good morning, sweetheart and sweet dreams, beautiful texts across the 18-hour time difference between the two of you.

but none of that changed the fact that he wasn’t here to hold you, kiss you, hug you, and you hated it.

if you were honest, you hated yourself a little bit for feeling this way. this was the biggest break of his career, and you were feeling sorry for yourself because you wanted a hug?

but it was more than that. you hadn’t been very affectionate with anyone before Austin, but in the past year or so of dating him, you’d gotten used to having someone to hold hands with as you were walking down the street, to hug when you got home from work, to cuddle with as you watched a movie. you thought you’d be fine while he was gone — you’d been fine before, hadn’t you? — but every time you woke up to his side of the bed being cold, every time your hand dangled at your side, empty, on the way back from your favorite coffee shop, every time you found yourself hugging a pillow during your solo movie nights… you felt like you were missing something essential to you.

touchstarved.

you had come across the term on some social media or other and though you hadn’t quite admitted that that’s what you were feeling, you quietly did some research and invested in a weighted blanket, a body pillow, and some face masks for when you needed a self-care day. 

and they did help, at least for a while. but some part of your brain was frustratingly insistent that nothing was going to help like Austin actually being here was.

he won’t be back for a while, you mentally retorted, shifting under the weighted blanket and hugging the stuffed elephant Austin had gifted you on your birthday even closer, so deal with it.

it was at that moment you heard what sounded like keys jangling at your door.

you froze. you definitely weren’t expecting anyone. was someone breaking in?!

You carefully sat up, dropping the stuffed animal as your hand crept towards the baseball bat you had ready near your bedside table. should you call the police? you wondered, but as you experimentally tapped your phone, it stayed dark. dead.

steeling yourself, you tiptoed out to the living room. better to try to catch them before they took anything, you figured.

you still heard something jangling at the door — had whatever they were using to try to pick the lock gotten stuck? — so it seemed like you had the upper hand for now. adjusting your grip on the bat, you readied yourself as the knob finally turned and—

the bat slipped from your hands, clattering onto the floor as you tried to process Austin walking through the door, the excited smile on his face slipping towards a look of concern.

“hey— woah, honey… Y/N, sweetheart, is everything okay?”

“i… i thought you were someone trying to break in,” you respond numbly, blinking repeatedly as if to assure yourself that this was real, “what… are you doing here?”

“i wanted to surprise you,” your boyfriend replies with a sheepish grin, closing the door behind him and turning back to you with his hands raised in innocence, as if to show you he means no harm. he takes a step forward as he continues explaining, “we were a little ahead on filming, so Baz gave us a little break—“

that one small step, though, was enough to snap you out what whatever spell you were under, and his explanation is cut short as you crash into him, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his warm sandalwood scent that had slowly been fading from your pillows.

“i missed you,” you whisper against his skin, so soft that he doesn’t hear so much as feel your lips forming the words on his neck. you feel yourself shaking slightly, and under normal circumstances you’d be more than a little embarrassed, but right now you don’t care because he’s here, real and warm and solid underneath you.

“i missed you, too, sweetheart,” he chuckles in reply, though it’s tinged with worry as he feels you trembling. “hey, you okay?” he murmurs, moving to pull away so he can see your face, gauge how okay you really are.

but you don’t let him, your only reply being a nod of your head into the crook of his neck and a tightening of your arms around him, blinking back the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as it hits you just how much you needed this. he relaxes, seeming to recognize that he won’t be escaping the circle of your arms anytime soon, instead pulling you closer and murmuring soft i love yous and i missed yous into your ear.

he can ask you about how you’re feeling later — because clearly this goes deeper than a normal long-distance trip — but for now he lets himself relax into your arms, trying to make up for the nearly two month’s worth of hugs that he’s missed from you.

[fraidy-farfelle]

"You're Not Alone."

CW: Parenthood, babies, Vincent being a cute dad

Notes: female afab reader, established relationship, marriage, for the sake of clarity I’m giving your twin sons names, but obviously feel free to change them! Also: I did not make this edit, if someone knows the artist plz let me know to credit them.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome, but please be gentle as I do cry. Idk if I'm gonna write more for the Sinclairs but if you want to be added to the taglist feel free to rb or pm me!

‘This is thoughts.’

“This is speaking”

“This is Vincent signing”

You awoke with a start, sitting straight up. As your eyes adjusted, you saw you were tucked into bed. ‘This is not where I fell asleep.’ You thought to yourself, yawning and stretching your arms. The afternoon sunlight trickled in through the curtains, and you realized you had been asleep for a while. 

Your oldest twin boy, James, had woken you as the sun rose. You remembered feeding and soothing him as you sat on the couch, not wanting to bother your husband or his brother if he cried again. So, how did you get here? Your eyes settled on the pair of cribs to the side of the room. They were empty. “Where are they?!” You exclaimed and threw the covers off of yourself in a bout of maternal panic. 

Running through the house, the bedrooms, kitchen and living room were all vacant. Trying not to panic, you took a deep breath. There was only one place left to look. You carefully made your way down the stairs to Vincent’s workshop in the basement. As you descended, you heard his radio softly playing classical music. You turned the corner and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Contently working away in this sketchbook was your handsome Vincent. He was shirtless with his hair tied into a messy bun. (the twins liked to pull on his long soft hair.) James was tied to his chest with a baby wrap while Andrew was in a basket on his workbench, both sleeping soundly. You shook your head at yourself. Of course there was no reason to panic. 

Vincent turned his head, picking up your footsteps over the quiet music. You were only mildly surprised to see his face, as he’d read about the Still Face experiment and was doing his best to overcome his insecurity to be the best father he could be. He gave you a gentle smile as you approached him and kissed his scarred cheek. “That skin to skin contact stuff is no joke, huh?” You said softly, gazing at your son’s sleeping face. Vincent nodded and cupped your chin delicately, pulling you in for a proper kiss.

“Did you have a good rest, love?” He signed, tilting his head. “Yes. You didn’t have to carry me to bed, you know.” He shrugged. “I didn’t mind. I slept through James crying, it’s the least I could do.” You huffed and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “I’m glad he didn’t wake you up. Hopefully he didn’t wake Bo up, either.” You said, resting your cheek on his head. He made a noise of indignation. “The lazy bastard was still snoring when I went to find you. Don’t worry about him.” He felt your shoulders shake with a silent laugh at his words. “You were the picture of beauty this morning, you know.” “Aren’t I always?” You teased. He snorted softly and tapped his sketchbook with his index finger. 

Looking at the page he indicated, you saw a sketch that was undeniably you and James. He captured the way he had found you on the couch that morning. You were lying on your back, with your baby asleep on your chest. You had apparently fallen asleep before you had put your breast back in your nightshirt from feeding him. James’s head was resting on the exposed side of your chest, curled in on himself adorably. Both of you had sleepy smiles on your face. 

“It’s like you took a picture. I’m really glad you’re the one that found me and not one of your brothers.” You said. “Me too. Saved me some ass kicking.” You could tell he was joking and squeezed him gently. “How long have they been asleep?” “Not long. Fed them and they conked out.” You smiled. You felt so blessed to have a husband like Vincent. “You know, next time you shouldn’t let me sleep so long. I’m their mom, it’s my job to take care of them.” “And I’m their father. You created two human beings cell by cell. That’s more incredible than any art I could ever make. You’re entitled to a break when you need it.” 

You bit your lip. “I know, but I just-“ Vincent sighed and tugged you around to sit on his lap. He put your hand on Andrew’s head and his own on James’s back. “We made these masterpieces together. We’ll care for them together. Their uncles love them, and will help us when we need it. Whatever happens, you’re not alone.” Tears began to fall from your eyes, and you gave a watery smile. Vincent smiled back at you and rested his forehead on yours. “I… love… you!” He startled you by speaking, the gravely, strained timbre bringing a blush to your cheeks. “I love you too!”

Taglist: @rottent33th

[direwombat]

like clockwork, another wip wednesday rolls around

tagged by @euryalex @gaeadene, @inafieldofdaisies, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @adelaidedrubman, @ivymarquis, and @g0dspeeed (tysm lovelies~ i will rb your wips momentarily <3)

Tagging: @strangefable , @jillvalentinesday , @voidika , @aceghosts , @purplehairsecretlair , @henbased, @poetikat, @vampireninjabunnies-blog , @cassietrn , @confidentandgood , @wrathfulrook , @josephslittledeputy , @madparadoxum , @clonesupport, @trench-rot, @miyabilicious, @simplegenius042, @strafethesesinners, @deputyash, @schoute, @harmonyowl, and anyone else with a wip they want to share (also to be officially added to/removed from the taglist please like/reply to this post!)

i'm feeling generous so here are two wips: one for the werewolf au and one for katc because i've been doing my best to work on both at the same time :) everything is subject to change since these are still early drafts but they're mostly coherent

here's something from the horror and the wild, where syb is skedaddling from the veterans center :)c

Her scowl returns and she flips him off before tossing the map on top of her dashboard and rolling up her window. She throws her truck back into gear, and clumsily swings a three point turn to set her back down the road she drove in on. Jacob, at the very least, has the courtesy to step out of her way before she has the opportunity to spitefully run his foot over. 

She grits her teeth, her hands alternating between clenching and releasing the steering wheel while she creeps back down the road. Her left knee bounces while she keeps her foot lightly pressed against the accelerator, resisting the urge to speed away. 

Maybe kick up some dirt in his face for good measure. 

But when she glances up into her rear-view mirror, her heart stutters in her chest and her limbs lock in place. Framed by the sinister gates and standing directly beneath the arching letters, Jacob Seed watches her retreat with his arms crossed over his broad chest. She’s too far away to make out any facial expression, but she’s almost positive he’s smirking. 

She takes her eyes off him in favor of following the slight curve of the dirt road, but as she does — as the angle of her rear lights changes, she swears she catches something flashing in her rear-view mirror. It’s so fast, so sudden, but if she didn’t know any better, she would have said Jacob’s eyes were reflecting like an animal’s.

But when her eyes dart back up to catch his shrinking reflection, there’s nothing strange to be seen. 

Just a man, watching her take her leave from his property. 

The road continues to curve, and it isn’t long  before he eventually disappears behind the trees. 

She breathes out a sigh of relief, and continues along until she reaches an intersection with one of the main, paved roads. Pulling over, she takes a moment to press her forehead to the top of the steering wheel, allowing the tension to melt away. 

Christ, that was fuckin’ creepy.

Lifting her head and raking her fingers through her hair, she puffs out her cheeks and heaves another sigh. “Alright, c’mon, get yourself together,” she mutters to herself. She punches her overhead light back on and drags the map — right side up — back onto her lap. The thick, plastic-y paper crinkles loudly as she searches for the old Veterans center. Once she finds it, she taps her finger against it to hold its place and looks for Forest Road 135. 

Jesus, she really missed the mark, and she grimaces when she notices the clock on her dash reads just past 9:30 pm. 

Fuck, Eli must be worried. 

Part of her considers driving back to his place; they can check in on Chad in the morning. But she told him she would, and she’s a woman of her word. 

Gingerly, she traces her finger along the roads leading from the Veterans Center. It crawls down the map — take a left onto the main road, hook right, then left, and then Chad’s place should be on a small dirt road somewhere on her right. She goes over the path a few times, committing it to memory before turning off her interior light and folding up the map. 

Just as she makes that first turn onto the main road, the clear, distinct sound of a wolf’s howl rings out into the night, followed by an echoing chorus. It isn’t an uncommon sound up here in the mountains — there have been many nights with Eli where she’s woken up in the middle of the night and stayed up listening to them sing. 

Normally, she finds the sound to be beautiful. But tonight, she just finds it haunting. 

Her eyes dart to the treeline, keeping an eye out for any animals that may come bounding across her path just as much as she pays attention to the road itself. Dark shapes move in the shadows, entirely hidden from her despite the brightness of her high-beams. The hair prickles at the back of her neck and her breathing suddenly goes ragged. 

Her gut, animal instinct is screaming at her to move faster. She’s being followed. Stalked.

Hunted.

and here's some some of syb getting rescued by jerome from katc :)

Somewhere in the Holland Valley. 10:34 pm.

While not entirely accurate, to say that Sybille feels like she’s been hit by a bus is by no means an understatement. 

She lies on the ground -- the ceiling? -- of the van. Blood oozes from the same gash near her hairline that she had stitched up in Dutch’s bunker earlier that morning. The lights illuminating the van flicker unsteadily. Dark shadows strobe violently, causing her eyes to throb in their sockets while the ringing in her ears drowns out all sound. 

A wheeze of a groan forces itself from her lungs, and she lifts her head only to have her surroundings swim around her. Every muscle throbs with the dispersed aches of full body blunt force trauma. The taste of blood sits on her tongue and as she coughs to clear her throat of the thick substance blocking it, a splash of red spatters messily onto the ground beneath her. 

“Oh, God,” she moans to herself. She forces herself up onto her elbows, her arms trembling as they struggle to carry her weight, and crawls towards the back doors, over the broken glass left behind by shattered windows . There’s no thought to the pain exploding around her left shoulder or how off-kilter she feels every time she heaves herself forward. Her shoulder is definitely dislocated but she can’t worry about that right now. Whatever injuries she’s sustained, she can take stock of them later. 

She needs to get out of here. 

She needs to find Joey. 

She needs to find Augustine. 

With a clumsy heave, she throws herself against the van’s back doors, trying to force them open. They move, pushing outwards, but she meets some kind of resistance. There must be something blocking the way, or the metal frame must have buckled when the truck rolled over. She tries again, grunting in pain as it flashes white-hot through her injured shoulder, but to no avail. 

The door is stuck. 

Another curse slips through her teeth, but her attention is quickly focused on the pained groans and rustling sounding behind her. Her mouth opens to call to one of the other passengers to help her, but when she looks over her shoulder, her eyes go wide. The two civilians she was with lay in broken, bloody heaps, their limbs hanging at limp, awkward angles. 

Dead. Killed during the crash. 

The Peggie, however, much like her, somehow managed to miraculously survive. He groans as he weakly lifts his head. Blood pours down his face, further matting his already unkempt hair and beard. A wet cough rattles from his lungs, and when he sucks in a breath, it comes out heavy and rasping. He’s obviously struggling to breathe. 

Punctured lung, she thinks with a grimace. She’d know the sound anywhere. After spending what felt like hours baking in the Afghanistan sun waiting for someone to find her and pinned down by the weight of the villager she’d failed to save, the sound of her own labored breathing has been burned into her memory. 

She’s suddenly thankful that her wounds mostly seem to be superficial. 

As far as she can tell, anyways. 

His eyes go wide when he sees her trying to break free, and he reaches towards her. A hand, slick with blood, grips her by the ankle. There’s more force to his tug than she’d anticipated. Her shirt rides up her stomach, and she lets out a scream as the soft flesh of her belly is mercilessly raked across the bits of broken glass. 

Frantically, she twists around, desperately attempting to kick at his face. He manages to evade her strikes and, much to her dismay, reaches for his gun, which had been flung about the van during the crash. 

And then his brains are suddenly blown out of the back of his skull. Skull fragments and bits of gray matter go splattering against the other two dead bodies and the cultist falls limp. 

Her head whips around, and she breathes a sigh of relief when she finds the van doors wide open and Pastor Jerome standing over her, smoke still rising from the barrel of his pistol. If she believed in such things, she might have considered him her guardian angel. He smiles warmly at her as he stows his gun into the hollow of his Bible. Crouching down, he pulls out a small knife and reaches toward her bound hands. 

“Stay with me,” he says. It’s muffled, overpowered by the ringing in her ears, but she can hear him. The plastic snaps, freeing her hands, and he helps her up. She grunts as she rises. Her sore muscles scream at her, telling her to lay back down, to rest, but she pushes past it. He places his hands on her good shoulder, steadying her on her feet. “Didn’t go through all this trouble just to lose you now.” 

“I’m gettin' goddamn sick of bein’ tossed around like Raggedy Ann doll," she tells him.

[boyfhees]

🗗 STANDING WITH YOUR ARMS OPEN IN FRONT OF THEM

FT. kenma, atsumu, bokuto, ushijima

W. none

AN. repost.

KENMA!

blinks blankly. he was grabbing some snacks from the kitchen when you randomly popped up with a goofy smile and a questionable stance in front of him. "is this supposed to be a new trend?" he waits for your response, only for you to shrug lightly before your smile grew wider. kenma places the packet of chips on kitchen counter before making his way towards you. "tell me if i'm doing something wrong?" and he inches closer, placing a soft kiss on your cheeks that leaves you flustered. he retracts slowly, gazing into your eyes as an obvious attempt at teasing you— which certainly worked, might you add. "was that right?" you sigh, averting your eyes to a stray corner. "you were supposed to hug me but i don't mind a kiss or two either."

ATSUMU!

this man has no clue. he was on his way to the bedroom after spending his afternoon watching match replays, only for you to greet him with a grin plastered on your face as you stood in front of him with your arms wide open. you stare at him, anticipating an answer, while he standing frozen with a perplexed face, brows creased in a way as if he's thinking of a potential response. a few seconds pass, and all he does is spread his arms in front of you, mirroring your actions. "are we t-posing?" — "tsumu, gosh, you're suppsosed to hug me!" a soft 'oh' escape his lips as he pulls you into an embrace, planting a soft kiss on your temple as you wrap your arms around his torso. "you're so dumb," you mumble, a chuckle rolls off his tongue. "at least you get to hug me." and he plops over the bed with your in his arms, pulling you impossibly closer. no, he's not getting off you anytime soon

BOKUTO!

you were lying idly on your bed when this impressive idea managed to slide inside your brain and within no time, you're on your way to your boyfriend who is busy doing whatever in his study. his brain went blank when he spot you standing with your arms wide open in the hallway, a smile climbing up his face before he sprints towards you, engulfing you in his arms ( or more like crashing into you ) as if you're going to disappear the next second. "kou what—" he pulls back, a bright smile waltzing on his lips. "what? i thought you were going to catch me." you pause, brows furrowed in confusion before you break into beads of laughter. "we're not playing that but sure, let's do it again." and he smiles, stepping away before standing with with his arms open in front of you. "your turn, sweets."

USHIJIMA!

stares blankly part two, but gets the message quickly. he expects you to pull tricks on him every now and then, what he didn't expect was from you was you standing in front of him with arms wide open at eight in the morning. while you expected him to ask a few questions, ushijima pulls you into his arms without wasting another second. "did you miss me?" you didn't expect that question. well of course, he arrived late last night; late enough for you to be fast asleep. your lips curl into a smile as you pull away, hands still wrapped around his torso while his' are snaked around yours. "today's a day off so let's go on a date." now, who are you to refuse.

taglists in the rbs.

[luvring]

— felix and sage waking up from a nightmare

gn!reader | **srsly not proofread btw. bonjour. sorry this was supposed to be an M4 post but i am um. giggles. sorry x2 i am too tired to get the taglist rn (will comment/rb later maybe) but also this post is nothing too special liek. u've seen this before! u know their fears,, don't be silly! just here to say Heyyyy im alive 😘

felix

this might come as a shock but felix isn't just an acquaintance with dreams about losing the person he loves. he hasn't had one in a while, so you can imagine the confusion/shock from both of you when he wakes up with your hands on his shoulders gently shaking him

he takes a minute to process his surroundings and what's going on. when you explain what happened he gets a remorseful look

"ah...i'm sorry for waking you. i'm alright now." you can tell he's lying when his smile is forced and his eyes are shifting around the room, his fingers playing with the blanket.

"you can talk to me, you know. no pressure, of course, but if something's bothering you then i'd like to help." you don't pry much, knowing that felix heard you and wanting to give him time

"do you ever wonder if there's someone better fit for you?" "not even once." the confidence and speed of your answer takes felix by surprise, and he stares at you with widened eyes.

he can't figure out what to say before you continue, "i don't think anyone's perfect for someone—a lot of love is time and working together, felix. not a hypothetical, romanticized ideal."

"and i love being with you. i love practising and learning together, figuring out new spells or dinner recipes—" felix lets out a small laugh at that, remembering the absolute disaster that happened only a couple nights ago. you only smile back, "i love rambling about our interests, seeing you get excited about a new book you found. i love you, felix. i'll remind you as many times as you want."

felix has a small smile on his lips as he looks at you, and he thinks he really, truly is the luckiest person in the world

his voice is soft but genuine when he speaks, "thank you, love." he sighs and frowns at the window, "it would be best for us to sleep now, the others will have our heads if we aren't up and ready in the morning."

you're both a little groggy when the others see you, but you can tell that the little conversation helped and you considered that more important

sage

sage's nightmare would be very similar to felix's: centered around the fear of you leaving him (again) or failing to save you. there's a mission coming up (we defeated the LoS and sage is Fine. idc. move) and every so often his brain can't help but think of the worst case scenario

he's likely to get up from bed and take a walk — maybe just taking a lap around where you're staying, or standing outside for some fresh air

his ears twitch when he hears you quietly walk up from behind him

"are you sure you want to go on the mission?" the question comes as a bit of a shock but you still manage to answer, "we've done more dangerous ones, you know." "you could still get hurt, though."

it isn't hard to read between the lines that sage is much more worried than you just getting injured. sometimes he needs a reminder that he's allowed to be worried/honest

"i'll be careful. plus i have you and the others, right? we're a team."

there's a frown on his face, and you don't have to reach out to know he's tense. he's quick on his feet and smart, you now that. but you also know that his mind gets foggy and overwhelmed at times like this

your voice is soft when you speak, "nothing will happen to me, sage. and if i do get hurt, i'll heal up and recover just like always."

"but—" "danger and 'what if's' are part of our job description, sage." he knows that better than anyone, and you know that. "i'm scared something will happen to you, too. but i trust you—i believe in you. in us."

by the time you're close enough to lay against him and reach for his hand, sage has let out a deep breath and relaxed a little. he lays his head against yours and continues to look out. "alright."

"but if anything happens—" "i'll step back and find you or one of the others. i do actually have some experience with this stuff, y'know." your sarcastic but lighthearted comment gets an eye roll in response, but you both know it's your way of reassuring him while trying to take some pressure off

please gently bring him back to bed and play with his hair . this is a necessary step . he's still a little tense in the morning when it hits him again, but taking his hand in yours is enough for a while

[boyfhee]

10 : 10 am | blue rose

G. friends to ? ( 0.7k )

N. me when i write impulsively. unedited help

heeseung thinks you should be more than friends.

no— he believes. it's an odd thought for ten in the morning, in middle of chemistry lesson, but heeseung doesn't mind. and just like an important presentation, he has all the reasonings jotted down on the back of his notebook, doodles with vines and hearts.

heeseung has known you for four years. not you, heeseung; he has known you for four years. he isn't the type to stand out amongst the crowd, for he seemingly dissolves into it like fine particles, almost too invisible to be sedimented. he doesn't enjoy attention. heeseung likes to be the to sit in middle of a row with ear phones and math occupying most of his day.

coming back to the point, four years, they have been terrible for him. the day you transferred to his middle school, his life turned upside down. you had taken the last bench, near the window, and still managed to have everyone in the class look at you as if you were the subject to their queries. you were the type to throw paper balls in the middle of the class. you made snarky comments, disturbed the momentum, ruined the decorum, destroy his peace of mind, made it hard for him to focus— there are so many reasons why you flipped his life style.

you don't know heeseung, you never tried to, until highschool. you knew there's a boy in your class, too quiet to mingle, too loud in his mind to speak anything.

you knew there was a lee heeseung in your class, that's it. that was your story.

now, in highschool first year, you know there's a lee heeseung in your class. the same lee heeseung who was your classmate in middle school. the one who keeps listening to that one tchaikovsky piece over and over again while solving math. the one who always caught your attention, but never mystic enough for you to reach him out.

you've known him for three months now, and that's how heeseung's story began.

there are so many reason as for why you and heeseung should be more than just friends. he has known you for four years, that's a lot more than any other friend you have in the school. he's the only one you seek at 2 am for late night escapades. his notes are the only reliable source of study material you refer to two weeks before exams. his number is the only one you've saved with a '<3' on your phone, and many more.

heeseung doesn't remember taking a liking to you at all. he remembers calling you annoying in front of everyone in middle school. he remembers cursing out at you when his team lost relay because you tripped. he remembers all the moments he hurt you. heeseung also remembers spending first three months of highschool sitting next to you, but he doesn't remember falling for you.

he doesn't remember doodling your name on the corner of his text books. he doesn't remember doing those silly compatibility tests with you on the palm of his hands. he doesn't remember losing his breath when you hugged him instinctively after you won your first relay in highschool. heeseung doesn't remember the important details.

once upon a time, there was you, that's it. that's his story. that's his beginning and his end, all from you.

heeseung doesn't remember falling for you but he realises that with every passing day, he falls even deeper. it's like going down even after hitting rock bottom. heeseung recalls when you held his hand for a group picture with your middle school friend and his heart exploded into a million butterflies. it's really nothing, just the way your hand fits in his; it's literally five plus five, and yet your touch had him orbiting and ripping his hair out strand by strand when that sensation slipped inside his head every night.

he really believes that you should be more than friends. heeseung believes you should be lovers instead.

but, then again it's all inside his head; and you're too busy being in love with jay to even notice his lovelorn eyes.

taglist in the rbs.

[sagesolsticewrites]

Tell The World I’m Yours | Austin x Olivia x reader

Request from @wwebaby657: Heyyyy I love your stories and I was wondering if you could do a story where Olivia, Austin, and reader are in a poly relationship together. Where reader thinks that they don’t wanna be with her anymore when they’re actually planning a birthday surprise

a/n: thank you so much for the request darling! This is one of of several polyam fics that I have in the works <3 These have a very special place in my heart, and I hope y’all enjoy them as much as I loved writing them! And once again a HUGE thank you to Kenz (@mpmarypoppins) for this incredible moodboard, ily bestie! 🥰💕

Word count: 1.7k 

Warnings: a couple swear words, a tiny bit of angst in the beginning, mentions of the media being critical of their relationship, I think that's it? As always, please let me know if I missed anything!

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

Masterlist | add yourself to my taglist!

You awoke to sunlight streaming in through your bedroom window. It was much brighter than your usual 9am wake-up time; had you slept in? With a stretch and a soft hum, you turned, only to find your bed empty, Austin and Olivia nowhere to be seen. There was the enticing smell of coffee drifting in from the kitchen, though, and your hopes lifted. Maybe they were just up and getting breakfast ready?

You slowly got out of bed, your body protesting as you left the comfort of the sheets that still smelled comfortingly of your partners, and made your way to the kitchen. Your heart sank, and a sad smile crossed your face as you took in an empty room, with a note sitting on the counter next to a steaming mug of coffee, made exactly how you liked it. 

Y/N,

Went out to run a few errands! We wanted to let you get your beauty sleep. Be back soon! We love you!

Aus + Liv

Your heart sank even further as you flipped the note over, searching for any other writing. When your search returned nothing, you frantically checked your phone to confirm the date. They didn’t— they wouldn’t really have forgotten your birthday, would they?

You sighed. Austin and Olivia had been… distant recently, you noticed. They weren’t home as often, claiming work ran late or they just lost track of time running errands, but something in your gut told you it wasn’t always that. And now here was your birthday and there wasn’t even a mention of it in the note they’d left for you before going off by themselves. It was like they were pulling away from you. Did they… not want to be with you anymore? Were you not good enough? some dark corner of your brain whispered.The media had been pretty critical of your… unconventional relationship, maybe they were tired of it.

Trying to shake off your sour mood, you snapped a photo of the coffee mug and sent it off to your partners: Missed you two this morning, but this was a very sweet thing to wake up to, thank you my loves ❤️

Olivia replied with a simple “Good morning! You’re welcome, sweetheart ❤️” and Austin’s came soon after: “Good morning sunshine! Errands are taking a little longer than expected, but I promise we’ll be home asap. Love you!”

You replied with a simple heart emoji as you took your coffee and plopped down on the couch in the living room. You set your phone down and turned your attention to your coffee and the TV, resigning yourself to a birthday celebration that consisted of watching Netflix all day.

You must’ve dozed off at some point after the 4-hour mark in your binge watch of Stranger Things, because you’re awoken around 3:37 (according to your phone) by voices, and a jangling of keys at the door. You sit up, blinking sleep from your eyes, just as Austin swings the door open and he and Olivia step inside, carrying several very heavy grocery bags. A tiny smile spreads across your face as you see them, but it soon fades as you remember it’s your birthday and this the first time you’ve seen them all day. Austin and Olivia seem oblivious to your sour mood as they come over to greet you. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Austin says, pressing a kiss to your forehead, Olivia right behind him pressing a kiss to your cheek as she greets you, “Hi darling. How’s your day been?”

Still no mention from either of them about your birthday. Okay then. Guess it’s up to you to remind them.

“You guys know the date today, right?” You ask as casually as you can.

“Of course, darling,” Olivia replies, rattling off the date.

“And is there… anything special about today?” You ask hesitantly, hating that you have to spell it out for them.

“Well every day’s special when we’re with you,” Austin teases, “But—”

His words simply confirm your fears. You cut him off as you stand up from the couch, leaving the loves of your life sitting by themselves. 

“Glad you guys had a good time together. Thanks for wishing me a happy birthday, by the way,” you mumble angrily, storming off to your shared bedroom.

“I don’t really wanna see you guys right now,” you sniffle, furiously wiping tears away as Austin and Olivia rush into the bedroom. Olivia sits down gently beside you on the bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as Austin comes to kneel in front of you, replacing your hands with his as he carefully brushes the tears from your cheeks. He opens his mouth to speak, but Olivia shushes him with a shake of her head as you continue. 

“It’s bad enough that the two of you have been pulling away— don’t even try to deny it— but then you forget my birthday? I—” Some of your anger melts away as you break down into sobs, “I know it would be easier for you two if I wasn’t here, the media and everything wouldn’t be so…” You shake your head, unable to find a word to describe the criticism of the aspects of your relationship that most people just don’t understand, “But I’d really appreciate it if you just talked to me instead of icing me out of our damn relationship.”

“Sweetheart…” Austin takes your hand, looking like his heart just shattered at your words. “I promise, that’s not what we think— that’s not what we were trying to do at all.”

Olivia’s hand cups your cheek, turning you to face her, “We’re so, so sorry that we ever made you feel like that. That’s the last thing we ever want to do, you know that, right?” Her eyes look almost pleading, as if she’s begging you to believe her, “We have been distant, and I can’t tell you enough how sorry we are for that, but it’s because… well…” She turns to Austin, “Aus, do you wanna show her?”

Austin stands up with a nod, squeezing your hand before exiting the room. He’s back in a flash, carrying the grocery bags that they were carrying when they got home, as well as a small, flat velvet box. He sits on the other side of you, holding the velvet box in front of you. He nods to Olivia as he begins to explain, “I know this won’t in any way make up for how we’ve made you feel, but… we’ve been so busy lately because we were getting this made.”

Olivia takes over for him as you take the box from his hands and begin to open it, “We wanted to get you something to show you how much we love you.” As she speaks, you lift the lid of the box, revealing a delicate gold necklace with a pendant of three interlocking hearts, each with a tiny gem in the middle: a peridot, a diamond, and what you recognize as your birthstone. Tears spring to your eyes— happy ones, this time— and a gasp escapes you as you process what you’re seeing. A small smile forms on Olivia’s face at your reaction, and she envelops you in a hug. 

“We’re not us without you, darling,” she murmurs in your ear as Austin joins in the hug so you’re sandwiched between them, a cocoon of love you never want to leave. Eventually they release you, and as Olivia pulls your hair up, Austin takes the necklace and delicately clasps it around your neck, placing a small kiss to where the clasp sits at the nape of your neck, “Perfect.”

You can’t help the growing smile on your face as you pull them one by one in for a kiss. “I love you both so, so much.”

“We love you too, sweetheart,” Austin says, “and I’m sorry we haven’t been great at showing that recently.”

“But,” Olivia jumps in, gesturing to the grocery bags, “We got a few things for you.”

She continues as you finally see what they brought: an assortment of your favorite snacks, candies, baked goods, and even your favorite ice cream that’s definitely melted by now. “I know we haven’t been around a lot, and we were thinking we could spend the day together just the three of us. No work, no distractions, no paps to bother us, just us celebrating the person we love most on their special day.”

“That sounds perfect,” you beam, and Austin and Olivia lead you out to the living room.

After putting the ice cream back in the freezer, the three of you cuddle up on the couch; your head on Austin’s chest, Olivia on your other side with her head on your shoulder, their arms wrapped around you. The rest of the day is spent watching your favorite movies, and trying to prevent Austin from stealing your M&Ms.

Though you all agreed there would be no phones, you wake up the next day to an Instagram post on both Olivia and Austin’s accounts, apparently posted just before midnight after you had dozed off in the middle of You’ve Got Mail. It’s a sweet series of pictures, starting with one of you beaming into the camera, then going on to a series of the three of you together, ending with a dim selfie taken by Olivia of the three of you sharing a slice of the ice cream cake they’d gotten you. You don’t think your smile can get any wider until you get to the captions; Austin’s reads “Happy birthday to my best friend and love of my life. Thanks for always letting me steal your M&Ms, sweetheart!” and you let out a soft laugh before scrolling to Olivia’s, which reads “Happy birthday to my sun, moon, and stars. There aren’t words to describe how much I love you. Here’s to another fabulous year around the sun 😘❤️” 

Just then you feel a hand sleepily wrap around your arm and Olivia tugs you back down into bed, which you happily oblige. The three of you spend a lazy morning in bed cuddling, the gems in your necklace gleaming in the early morning light.

Taglist: @queenslandlover-93 @anangelwhodidntfall @austin-butlers-gf @butlersluvbot @killerqueenfan @kittenlittle24 @beauvibaby @kingelviscreole @justjacesstuff @sweetheartlizzie07 @coldonexx @londonalozzy @kaycinema @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @eliseline @djconde58 @mirandastuckinthe80s @luke-my-skywalker @tubble-wubble @kisseskae @whotfatemywaffles @gyomei-tiddies @friedwangsss @shynovelist @sassy-ahsoka-tano @she-is-juniper @hallecarey1 @adoreyouusugar 

[void-botanist]

WIP (scene) Tag Game

I'm stealing @korblez's tag for this one!

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title(s) that most intrigue them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I've listed out WIPs before but this time I'm going to spin it a different way: here's a list of AOM-related scenes that actually have something written in them, in no particular order. Half of them are Sorian and Avis, and some of them are going to get cut or rewritten as I work on this new version.

honesty

sweatpants

salmon leap

sodden

histories

engagement party

Emma Disagrees

Avis planning

decisions

Sid says goodbye to Colin

Midnight escape

Whiskey tasting

Avis getting her affairs in order

Park

Next morning

Haircut

A Visit to Marcus

Dive Witch

Dupe witches

Uncontested

snare

Vinegar Sun: Imni

I'm not gonna tag 22 people but I will tag @kk7-rbs, @multi-lefaiye, and @duckingwriting, plus anyone else who wants to join in!

Soravis taglist: @vacantgodling @athenswrites @kk7-rbs