#only noticed now that his eyes look green here…

[melintowriting]

The first Empress-Chapter 3

Hi everyone! Sorry for the wait but writing and translating this chapter turned out to be more difficult than I thought. Hope you'll like it!

Warnings: arranged marriage, smut (+18), mentions of SA (by the Baron on Feyd)

Word count: 5.052

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

The spaceship arrived on Giedi Prime after nearly four days of journey, during which Megan and Feyd had tried to get to know each other a little. Feyd had not spoken much about himself: he had simply told her that he loved killing and fighting in the arena, nothing more. As for her, he had discovered more interesting things. The young woman loved reading, riding horses, history and politics, an unusual passion for a woman, he thought. 

His uncle once told him that intelligence was a wasted quality in a woman; but Feyd disagreed. All his life he had only dealt with naive and useless women that were easy to manipulate. He kind of enjoyed the fact that his wife was smart and a woman worthy of his attention.

After that long journey Megan felt tired: many months had passed since the last interspace journey she had undertaken. She had gone to Caladan for an imperial visit to her uncle Leto. That was probably the last time she had visited her mother’s homeworld, but she didn’t know it at the time.

Her husky husband’s voice echoed from behind her as the doors of the spaceship opened, revealing the gray and gloomy sky of the capital.

"Welcome to Giedi Prime, wife." he said with a wide smile, taking her hand.

Megan and Jeremy exchanged a quick look. 

What horrible place was that? They had grown up on a green planet with beautiful landscapes, and now they had both ended up in an industrial hell.

The Na-Baron and the Na-Baroness got off the ship immediately after Baron Vladimir, greeted by soldiers’ chants in Harkonnen language. Behind the ranks of the military there were the faces of ordinary people. Men, women, children, all united by the typical features of Giedi Prime.

Jeremy, who stood faithfully behind his sister almost in a protective way, noticed the way they looked at her. They were curious, almost impatient. They looked at her with hopeful eyes. 

-The Bene Gesserit.- he thought -They prepared the people for our arrival. -

Megan walked neatly beside her husband.

She could feel his big hand holding hers.

"Do you like it?" he asked, continuing to walk on the long walkway that would have led them to the fortress.

Megan looked around, unsure whether or not to tell the truth.

"It’s a kind of planet I’m not used to." she decided to say.

Feyd looked at her, amused.

"Is that a subtle way of saying you don’t like it?"

"It’s a way of saying I have to get used to it." the girl promptly replied.

Her eyes inevitably met the ones of the common people behind the soldiers, intent on observing her while whispering.

"What’s going on?" Megan asked, noticing that the atmosphere was starting to warm up.

People had begun to speak louder and the soldiers had begun to arm themselves, ready to protect the noble family.

Feyd raised an eyebrow: he was confused as much as she was.

"Uncle." Feyd said, catching the Baron’s attention.

"This scum!" the Baron exclaimed, annoyed and angry.

Jeremy instinctively approached his sister, ready to defend her from any threat, asking, "What are they shouting?" 

The screams were in Harkonnen language, an unknown language to the twins.

Feyd stopped to look at the agitated crowd, trying to figure out what they were shouting. 

"Na-Baron." 

A slimy and subtle voice caught his attention. It was Piter De Vries.

"It’s not wise to stay out here." he said, trying to keep his cool, "You and your bride must go immediately to the fortress."

"What are they shouting?" he asked, ignoring his recommendation.

And then he heard. He heard what they were shouting and he understood who they were shouting at.

"Liberator! Liberator!" they kept saying, pointing at Megan, begging her to free them.

It was her voice that brought him back to reality.

"Feyd, will you tell me what’s going on?" she insisted, slightly squeezing his hand to get his attention.

"Let’s go." he simply replied, confused and upset by the idea of a riot.

-What’s going on? - Na-Baron kept asking himself while dragging his wife and brother-in-law into the fortress. He wasn’t easily broken down, nor panicked, but an unsettling sensation was creeping inside of him. Never since his uncle brought him to Giedi Prime as a child, he had seen the people in such turmoil.

His uncle did not love the people, he despised them, and he taught him to do the same. Normally people would lower their heads in the presence of the nobles and remain silent in fear. Not this time though.

He couldn’t understand why.

******

A few hours later an extraordinary meeting of the small Council was scheduled.

The trusted nobles of the capital had been invited and Feyd, as the baron’s heir, had a duty to attend.

He left his wife in her apartments with her brother, both still confused by the turbulent arrival on the planet, and he then started to get ready for the Council in his own room. He needed to understand, to know more about what happened.

When he opened the door to his room his harpies were waiting for him, laying on the bed.

As soon as they saw him they began to greet him impatiently and to beg him not to leave them alone anymore.

"We missed you so much, Na-Baron..." they kept saying while kissing his whole body "We can’t be without you."

He greeted them with his usual manner of doing, impassive and icy, letting them praise him a little. He loved the fact that their life depended on him. Being the center of their existence pleased him enormously. 

He caressed their heads almost as if they were obedient little animals and he then ordered the servants to start dressing him up.

When he noticed that his harpies were busy whispering to each other, Feyd slightly laughed. He knew what they were mumbling about. He knew what they wanted to know.

But he decided to remain silent, waiting for them to speak first.

And so it was.

"Feyd." one of them began, showing her black teeth in a wide smile.

"Yes, my darling?"

"What does your wife look like?"

There was a strong note of hatred in her voice.

At the word "wife" the other two harpies almost hissed in enragement.

Feyd smiled even more widely. They were jealous. Oh how much he loved to be desired...

"She is very beautiful." he admitted sincerely, visualizing Megan’s beautiful face in his mind. 

"More beautiful than us?" the other harpy asked with a hint of desperate need for approval from him.

"Yes." he just answered.

He didn’t care if he hurt them or not, it was the truth. His harpies were beautiful for the beauty standards of Giedi Prime, but Megan was more beautiful for his taste. 

A general hiss echoed behind him. 

"So now that she’s here you’re going to abandon us?"

"Don’t leave us Na-Baron, please. We need you."

"We exist only if you are with us."

Feyd turned to look at them amused.

All that despair was feeding his huge ego.

"No, I will not leave you for now. As long as you satisfy me and you are obedient pets you can still receive my attention." he answered as the servants finished dressing him. He dismissed them with a simple gesture.

"Where are you going, our beloved Feyd?" a harpy asked, seeing him walking to the door "I thought you would spend some time with us..." she whispered sensually while the other two almost started purring.

He knew what she was alluding to: usually, as soon as he returned to Giedi Prime after a diplomatic visit to another planet, he visited them in order to satisfy his sexual needs.

But he didn’t have time to do that that day.

"I don’t have time." he quickly explained, looking at his reflection in the mirror one last time.

He still did not know if after the meeting he would have visited them or Megan. 

"Maybe later, if I don’t meet with my wife." he added, postponing the decision.

And after that, in a mix of anger and resentment, they all remained silent while Feyd left the room.

******

The Council Room was a place that invoked memories in Feyd’s mind.

Most of them were dark and hard to forget.

The first memory related to that room was particularly traumatic. Like any seven-year-old, Feyd loved to play. He was always told that playing was a waste of time, that he had to learn how to fight, how to rule and not to invent stupid hobbies. But he was stubborn. He still wanted to play, even though there was never anyone willing to play with him. 

One afternoon he was wandering in the fortress while playing with an indefinite amount of imaginary friends, when he accidentally entered the Council Room, interrupting a meeting.

Vladimir had angrily scolded him, humiliating him in front of all the nobles, and then he had told him that he was going to punish him in his chambers.

Feyd knew what that meant.

He knew what was coming.

Even at the time, despite the typical innocence of children, he understood that there was something wrong with all that. That the way his uncle touched him wasn’t normal, that not all children had uncles like that, fortunately.

From that day on Feyd kept his distance from that room until he was old enough to be ready to sit in the Council.

As much as he tried not to think about it, that room always took him back to that memory. Every time he sat at the long table next to his uncle, he felt such a deep hatred for him that led him to often fantasize about killing him.

He thought about it many times but he never did it. 

-In due time.-  he thought -I will have my revenge. -

"My trusted lords." the Baron said with his hoarse voice, "I think you all know why we are here."

The nobles nodded, visibly upset.

"I leave the word to Piter. He will be able to explain some... things to you better" he said vaguely, inviting the Mentat to continue.

Piter cleared his throat with his usual hasty manner before speaking.

"Well... so, thanks to my Mentat skills, I immediately understood the reason for the turmoil today." 

Feyd rolled his eyes. He hated that Mentat. Nobody cared about his abilities, they just wanted to understand why the people were shouting those things to his wife.

-How much I want to kill that idiot. - he thought, still remaining impassive.

"The Bene Gesserit are involved, I bet." a noble said.

Piter nodded: "Yes they are. An ancient prophecy of theirs speaks of a First Empress, the first woman to sit on the throne. During our visit to Kaitain for our Na-Baron’s wedding I tried to gather as much information as possible about our new Na-Baroness and it seems that everyone believes she is the chosen one."

"Nonsense." commented the Baron to reassure the nobles "All nonsense of course."

Piter nodded again, but that time hesitantly. Feyd seemed the only one to have noticed. 

Maybe his uncle was underestimating the situation.

"The Bene Gesserit, as always, must have spread the word here on Giedi Prime. The people were waiting for Feyd Rautha’s wife, the one who will free them from slavery and from the Laandstrad system, the one who will make them free men and women."

While all the nobles laughed, Feyd and Piter looked at each other in silence. Neither of them was laughing. It was at that point that Feyd realized that the Bene Gesserit prophecies were potentially serious things.

"A woman will never sit on the throne." the Baron chuckled.

"Women are meant to make children and stay silent. Can you imagine a woman ruling the Empire? We’d be doomed!" another noble said, making all the others laugh. 

"Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna let the people love her, think she’s gonna save them, sit on the throne... we’re gonna let them think whatever they want. We will turn all of this in our favor, of course. So that when someone will sit on the throne, that someone will be my nephew Feyd."

Feyd turned to look at him slowly, perfectly hiding the surprise.

His uncle’s fat face deformed into a wicked smile.

"Let that woman believe she can rule and I will make you emperor."

Now all the nobles' eyes were on him.

"Emperor?" Feyd asked, savoring the taste of that word.

The Baron smiled even more widely.

"When she will ask you what happened today, tell her the truth. Fuel her hopes. Make her believe it. If we exploit the support of that mass of beggars, who do you think will sit on the throne?"

Feyd looked him intensely in the eyes, feeling the excitement growing.

"Feyd Rautha Harkonnen!" the Baron exclaimed with a proud look.

"Feyd Rautha Harkonnen!" the nobles repeated in a solemn tone.

******

Giedi Prime was a miserable place.

Nothing about it was pleasant or interesting.

It was sad to think that she would have had to spend the rest of her days there, under a perpetually gloomy sky and breathing heavily polluted air. But at least she wasn’t alone.

Her brother had dinner with her and before he left he had come up with a theory.

"What if what happened today is a sign that the prophecy is true?"

Megan looked at him in silence, analyzing his idea.

They both knew about the prophecy because of their mother.

"I don’t know." his sister replied "The world doesn’t seem ready for a woman on the throne yet... maybe the Bene Gesserit are wrong. Perhaps the Chosen One is yet to come." 

There was disappointment in her voice.

“We’ll have time to see if the prophecy is right.” he reassured her "Rest now." 

"Unless my husband decides to pay me a visit."

Jeremy tried not to show it but the idea of his sister with Feyd Rautha still troubled him deeply. 

"Good night." he said, kissing her on the forehead.

"Good night Jeremy," she whispered, "I’m lucky to have you here with me."

And it was true. Without her twin she couldn’t survive, neither on Giedi Prime, nor anywhere else.

As expected, her husband came to see her.

"Come in." Megan said as soon as she heard a knock. She knew it was him.

Feyd entered the room and closed the door behind him.

He chose to go to her. He couldn’t explain it but the idea of having sex with her excited him a lot more than having sex with his concubines. The newest toy was always the most interesting.

"Did you have dinner, wife?"

"I did." she nodded "Did you attend the council?"

Feyd nodded without taking his eyes off her.

The way she looked at him... she wanted to know, she wanted to ask him what had happened. His ability to understand people was not due to his empathy, but rather due to his attentiveness and meticulous observation.

And just like he predicted, Megan spoke.

"What happened today?" she asked, "Were they shouting at me?"

Why did she ask him such an obvious question? Feyd was certain that she knew about the prophecy about herself.

"I think we both know about the prophecy." he just said, studying her with his piercing gaze.

Megan seemed to frown, slightly tilting her head in surprise.

"How do you know?"

"Bene Gesserit’s prophecies have always seemed like a waste of time to me, but they have the strange ability to spread quickly." Feyd explained, "Our Mentat heard about it on Kaitain at our wedding. Today he only had the confirmation that the people really believe in it. They believe that you will free them from the imperial system."

Silence fell between the two. They looked at each other for a few moments, both intrigued by the other. 

Feyd had expected a reaction from her. He had expected astonishment, surprise... she was a woman after all, and women were always exaggerated and sentimental. He had just told her that people thought she was going to be the first woman to rule... and she just looked at him in silence.

-What a strange little creature. - he thought before breaking the silence with a simple question.

"Do you think they’re right?" 

He had to make her believe in the prophecy as his uncle suggested, and to do so he needed to make her talk.

Megan remained silent for a while, breathing in deeply.

"I don’t know."

Feyd sighed. 

-What a disappointing answer.- 

Seeing him unsatisfied with her answer Megan added, "All men are still too dull to accept a woman’s power."

-That is an interesting answer. -

"All men? You’re assuming I am too?"

"Isn’t that right?"

"No."

To be honest Feyd never thought of a woman as a ruler. He had always been taught that women were just about having children and being good wives, but he had never had a maternal model to learn from. He killed his mother a long time ago. As soon as she had tried to stop the Baron in his attempt to bring Feyd to Giedi Prime to raise him as a true Harkonnen, Vladimir had ordered the little Feyd to kill her. And he, a simple child with a knife in his hand, had obeyed without really knowing what he was doing.

Did he regret it? No.

Or maybe.

But there was no point in thinking about it anymore: his mother was dead and he had found a strange pleasure in killing. 

His wife raised an eyebrow in an unconvinced expression.

She didn’t believe him.

-You’re more stubborn than I thought, pet. -

"Men are all the same."

Feyd looked intensely into her eyes. That sentence annoyed him. He was not like all men. All men wanted to be like him, to be precise.

"And tell me, what are men like?"

"Frightened by a strong woman." she explained with a firm tone.

Feyd smiled in amusement.

"And you think you are?"

The girl inhaled deeply, nodding without hesitation.

"It’s a fact." and then she went on "That I really am what people say I am doesn’t matter now. There’s still time to figure it out. But one thing is certain: I always frightened men. My father was terrified that I would open my mouth to any event with guests."

The Emperor frightened by a girl? It was both absurd and funny.

"Why is that?"

"Because I didn't agree with him on a lot of things and I wasn’t afraid to say it."

Her answers, always accurate and ready... Feyd was sincerely amazed. But he did not show it.

And then he thought -If she’s so proud and stubborn it might become a problem for me. I’ll find a way to tame her. -

"In what ways did you disagree with him?" 

He was really interested in finding out.

"I think the whole Empire is based on injustice and that an Emperor should rule differently."

Now Feyd could understand why her father preferred her when she was silent. Her confidence was unbearable, yet amusing.

"How?" he teased her.

"If I truly am the First Empress, you will see."

Feyd immediately became serious, taking a step toward her.

"Another husband would have already punished you for your insolence."

Just like before Megan didn’t get upset.

"If you do, you’d prove my theory that men are scared of confident women."

-Now it’s too much. -

He had to make things clear, that insolent little creature had to figure out who was in charge.

"I’ll prove something else." he whispered, approaching her, "That I can make you shut up for as long as I want. Or rather... that the only thing you’ll be able to say is my name."

Megan smiled, looking him in the eyes.

"We’ll see." she replied.

Was it possible that the fear with which she looked at him the first time had already vanished?

Feyd sat on the bed, ordering her to kneel before him.

"Now I’m gonna teach you something, pet, and you’re gonna have to listen carefully."

The girl nodded, kneeling between his legs.

"Look how obedient you’ve become now that you know you’ll get my cock." he grinned, caressing her cheek.

Without needing to be told Megan took off his uniform pants, freeing his half hard manhood from his clothes.

His dark eyes watched her fingers running along the numerous veins down his length before wrapping her hand around it, squeezing slightly.

During the journey from Kaitain to Giedi Prime, they only managed to have sex twice. Feyd had dragged her into a small room on the spaceship and made her his with impatience. And  Megan also enjoyed those moments. The embarrassment and awkwardness were slowly abandoning her, leaving room for a constant curiosity and desire for him. 

If during the first time with him she had been afraid that he might hurt her, now she knew how much Feyd was able to make her feel good instead.

Megan understood what she had to do, something she’d heard about but never done before.

"What if... I hurt you?" she asked, looking up.

-What a stupid question.- she mentally said to herself, seeing Feyd grinning. She already knew the answer.

"I like pain, pet. Both to provoke it and to receive it." he explained to her while slightly pushing her head towards his now hard manhood.

Megan breathed deeply, getting closer.

Her tongue licked the base and then ran up to the tip, following a large bluish vein. She then focused on the tip, licking it, making her tongue swirl around it in circular motions.

-I’m doing well. - she thought, satisfied, hearing Feyd’s deep moans.

After a few minutes of teasing she then opened her mouth, barely taking him all inside. 

It was too big to take it all.

She began to move her head, bobbing it up and down his length, while Feyd took her long brown hair in his hand.

"Am I too big for you, little thing?" he groaned, pushing her down further at every movement.

Megan tried to shake her head but she was pushed down on him, feeling his cock touching her throat.

She instinctively tried to retreat, gagging around him, but Feyd kept her still for a few moments, grinning in pleasure.

As soon as he let her go, Megan coughed with tears in her eyes and looked at him with a grim look.

"Don’t make that face." he mocked her, laughing.

He wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb, smiling even more.

"Now continue, pet." he ordered, slightly slapping his cock against her closed lips.

The girl obeyed, starting again.

After a few minutes and after understanding the mechanism, she began to enjoy it to the point that she instinctively added the hand movement, hearing Feyd groan even louder.

"Yes pet, just like that. Good girl." he said as bewitched, looking at her bobbing her head with teary eyes "Do you want me to cum in your mouth?"

Megan nodded eagerly without stopping, looking up directly at him.

That look she gave him... it sent him over the edge.

He came with a low groan, pulling her hair as he could feel his cock twitching in her mouth.

He looked into her eyes as she swallowed, almost amazed.

It didn’t matter that their marriage was arranged... the sexual pleasure he had experienced with her that week was a pleasure he had never experienced with any other woman, not even with his concubines.

Maybe they would have never loved each other, and that didn’t matter, but at least they could both make each other feel good.

"You did a great job, pet." he complimented her, caressing her cheeks.

Megan smiled slightly, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

He had been right when he had told his harpies that she was very beautiful.

"You are mine." he added possessively, looking into her eyes.

That sentence stirred something within Megan. At first she looked at him in amazement, remaining silent as she caught her breath.

And then she nodded, not taking her eyes off him.

Perhaps there was a reason why according to the Bene Gesserit’s plan they were destined to be together.

And that was the reason: she was his and he was hers.

******

Two weeks later

Feyd told her about the upcoming fight in the arena. Because of Feyd’s duties as Na-Baron the evening was the only moment they could spend together. And when they were not busy having sex they had made a habit of entertaining themselves in conversations. Megan was surprised that they had sex every night. Men usually prefer the company of their concubines and she was sure that he was still sleeping with his harpies regularly, especially when during the day he was busy and away from her. But after all, he always came back to her and that… that made her feel special.

They regularly spoke after sex. It was always Megan to start, since she had understood that Feyd was of few words, but he always participated in the conversations with interest.

One night, without warning, Feyd spoke first.

"In three days there will be a fight in the arena." he had said proudly, looking up at the ceiling. 

Megan had turned to look at him, observing his facial features, his body perfectly muscular and sculpted. 

"How long have you been fighting in the arena?" he had asked.

"For years. Since I was 14, maybe." he had replied. 

Everybody knew how damn good he was at fighting.

"Do you want me to attend?" 

Feyd had looked at her, perfectly hiding his emotions behind a detached expression.

He didn’t want to ask her directly because he was waiting for her to make the move.

He wanted her to see him fight, he wanted her to understand and see how strong and skilled her husband was.

"The first time we spoke you said you weren’t afraid of death." he had said, "If it’s true, attend the fight. People want to see their Na-Baroness."

By saying so he had pretended that her presence didn’t mean anything for him but that it meant something to people.

Megan agreed.

And there she was, sitting in the arena, waiting for the show to begin with her brother beside her.

"There he is."

Jeremy pointed at the man entering the arena, greeted by the chants of the spectators.

It was Feyd.

"Who are his opponents?" his sister asked him, using a pair of special glasses to see clearer from afar.

"I heard he fights against prisoners from other planets." he explained, clenching his fists in rage "Including Fremens."

Megan felt blood freeze in her veins as a Fremen entered the arena, stumbling.

Although no one, except for the imperial family, knew about their true identity, the Fremen blood inherited from their real father was for the twins a source of great pride; and seeing a Fremen sentenced to death in that way made them seethe in anger.

The fight began.

"They’re drugged." Jeremy noticed "Prisoners are drugged."

It was true. All her husband’s opponents were staggering and their reflexes were slowed.

Her twin brother was confused.

"You can tell he’s a good fighter... why do this?"

"Because Feyd kills for pleasure. He fights for fun, he doesn’t care about fairness or honor." she explained, looking at the prisoners being killed relentlessly.

The way Feyd was killing them was proving to her how much he enjoyed doing it.

Seeing that side of her husband in person wasn’t reassuring her at all. She always contemplated murder but only for those who really deserved it, for those who committed injustice… not as a hobby.

When the fight finished her husband looked at the Baron, who nodded proudly, and then directly at her.

Megan looked at him, unsure how to react.

Did she have to pretend she liked it? Yes, maybe it was the wisest thing to do.

So she gave him a slight smile, a smile that Feyd secretly appreciated.

The chants of approval from the audience did not stop even when Feyd disappeared from sight, entering the underground parts of the arena.

"Let’s go." her brother said, getting up from the stands.

Escorted by Megan’s guards and maids, the twins left the arena to get to the vehicle that would have taken them back to the fortress.

But something went wrong. 

The people were shouting and calling her name again. They started to surround the guards who were trying to protect her, reaching out their hands to touch her, begging for her help.

"Don’t worry." Jeremy told her, drawing out his knife. Her husband was a skilled fighter, but her brother was too.

But Megan wasn’t worried. Not at all.

In those weeks following her arrival she had thought a lot about how the people looked at her, about what Feyd had told her about the prophecy. 

She knew she had to try to help them. She felt like she had a duty towards those people. She needed to understand why. She had to find out if she really was what they thought she was.

The guards began to load their weapons, ready to shoot at the crowd, when Megan felt an arm grab her.

She turned to see a young woman who was pulling her arm with a desperate look. She had the typical features of Giedi Prime, dark eyes, smooth and pale face.

"Please, my lady." the girl begged her in Galach, without letting her arm go.

Megan, as in a trance, started allowing the young woman to guide her out of the crowd, but saw with the corner of her eye a soldier pointing his weapon at the girl’s head, ready to stop her from taking the Na-Baroness with her.

But Megan turned to him and without even thinking she used the Voice.

"Stop. Let me go."

The soldier obeyed without resistance.

"No, no!" Jeremy shouted, seeing his sister disappear into the crowd. He started pushing people, desperately looking for her, shouting orders to the guards. 

But there was nothing to do.

Megan had disappeared.

From that moment, everything changed.

Tag list: @mamawiggers1980 @avidreader73 @pomtherine

[kayhi808]

Neighbors - Green Eyed Monster

Masterlist

Tony Stark is throwing another one of his parties at Avenger's Tower, which is why you are currently in an elevator trying to coax a smile out of your boyfriend. "I just don't see why he makes this stuff mandatory!"

You slap his hand away from fidgeting with his tie. You loosen it just a smidge for him. "We'll stay a couple hours and we'll leave. Do your time & we're out, ok?"

"Fine!" He smiles at you, "Did I tell you how gorgeous you look?"

"You can tell me again." He leans over to kiss your neck & you smile until you feel his teeth & pull away. "Don't you dare!" Bucky pulls away and laughs, entwining his fingers with yours as the elevator doors open.

You step out into Tony's penthouse filled with people. You've never seen a penthouse this big before. It could almost be a nightclub. You hear Bucky let out a soft growl & you squeeze his hand. He leads you towards the right & you notice Sam. "So how long are you planning on staying?" You roll your eyes at them.

"Look at you, all dressed up." Sam runs his hands down the lapels on Bucky's jacket.

"Y/N made me."

Nodding vigorously, "Well, yea! Look at her!" Sam greets you with a kiss. "She's stunning. She doesn't want to be seen with a potato like you."

A pretty blonde walks up, "I'd be happy to be seen with Sargeant Barnes. Suit or no suit."

What the?!?

"Hey Dot."

"I was wondering if you'd show up tonight," gazing up at Bucky.

Bucky gives a shrug, "Yea, well..."

"It's man-da-tory. We had to." huffs out Sam.

Giggling, "The Winter Soldier doesn't always follow the rules, now does he?" She steps back winking at him.

You drop Bucky's hand and he looks at you, "Doll, this is Agent Dot McKinny. She just transferred from the Compound. Dot, my girlfriend, Y/N." His arm goes around your waist anchoring you to him.

"Nice to meet you,"

"So girlfriend, not wife?" laughing like she made a joke, "Need to make sure."

Ew! It's not nice to meet you.

Nat, Steve & Wanda join the group in the nick of time, so you can make an escape.

"I need a drink," removing Bucky's arm from your waist. To Nat & Wanda, "You want something to drink? I'm going to the bar."

"We'll come with you, " Wanda moves over to your side.

Dot waves you off, "I'm good. I'll stay right here."

Your lip can't help but curl into a snarl as you turn away, mumbling "I didn't ask you." You kept your shoulders back & chin up,

After ordering your drinks, Wanda & Natalie are giving you smirks & you can't help but smile and laugh. "Who and WHAT was that??"

They crack up laughing. "When I saw Dot head over to you guys I told Wanda we needed to get over there."

"Dot is a new transfer agent....

"Um transfer her back!" Interrupting Wanda only made them laugh harder.

"She may have a taken a liking to your Soldier."

"She's...she's a bold one," looking back at the group. Witnessing Dot playfully slap Bucky's arm.

You collect your drinks and wander back. Bucky gives you a worried look but you smile and hand him his scotch. "Thanks, doll." He leans in to kiss you & whispers "You ok?"

You plaster on a smile and give a noncommittal hum as Dot continues to yammer away laying a hand on Bucky's sleeve to gain his attention.

"I just found out they cleared me for missions so we could be partnering up soon. It's so exciting!"

"Yes, so exciting," you repeat.

Bucky clears his throat. "Will you excuse us? I needed to discuss something with Clint."

He leads you across the floor, "Doll?"

Shaking your head & laughing, "Don't you 'doll' me, Mister."

"Y/N? Ok, let's hear it."

You down the rest of your wine, handing your glass to a passing waiter. "#1, I hate her. #2, Ew. #3, what was all...THAT? #4, I hate her."

Bucky laughs, cupping your face in his hands and gives you a slow kiss that brings your jealousy level down a few notches, but he goes and says something dumb to rev you back up again. "Are you jealous?"

Narrowing your eyes at him, "Is there reason to be?"

Again he laughs and wraps you in his arms, "You're adorable!" Dropping a kiss on your lips.

Taking his bottom lip between your teeth, " And you didn't answer my question." He grimaces and pulls away.

"There is absolutely zero...Zero reasons to be jealous. I love you. I want you, and no one else."

"Ok," giving him a small smile. "But I still don't like her. If you get paired up with her on an extended mission, I'm sabotaging that mission." Bucky laughs. "Hey, the Avengers have been warned!"

You spend the rest of the evening dodging Agent Dot but she's locked on target and will zero in on Bucky. You ignore her the best you can.

You're sharing new photos and videos of Alpine with Nat. "She's gotten so fluffy!"

"I know! She was so scrawny and dirty and she's just a loveable ball of fluff now."

Dot looks over your shoulder, "Oh my God, are you a cat person?! I could NEVER!"

Nat questions, "Why not? They are so cute." Knowing exactly where this is going to lead & setting Dot up for the fall.

"Cats are menaces. They scratch up and destroy everything. They're unfriendly & bite. They carry parasites. Filthy." Shuddering, "I never understood how people can own a cat. What's that saying? Pets take after their owners?" She gives you a mean smug little smile.

"Actually, Alpine is Bucky's cat." You meet Bucky's glare over Dot's shoulder. "Honey? Dot thinks Allie is a filthy menace."

"Really?"

All the hopes and dreams for Agent Dot died after looking into the glaring eyes of an affronted cat dad. No one is forgiven for insulting his Alpine.

[macabr3-barbi3]

I'd like to request a reader stumbling upon Alastor and a deer having a squeaking contest in the woods. I don't know why I need it but I need it because squeaking contest. Thank you

Hello! I hope this scratches the itch for you, it was super cute and fun to write ❤️🦌

You were perhaps a bit early for your meeting with Alastor, but you didn’t think he would mind as you eased open the door to his hotel room and let yourself in. You had been regularly spending time together for a few months now since you had started staying at the hotel, and normally you shared an evening cup of tea about an hour later than you currently were. 

Alastor wasn’t in his room when you stepped inside though, the fire going but no sign of the Radio Demon. You set the new tea you had brought along for the two of you to try on the table near his armchairs and wander further into the room.

He might be in his bayou dimension, you figure. It wasn’t like him to be outside the hotel at this time of the night, so unless he was down at the bar or something he had to be out in the swamp. You had been itching to take a closer look at the ecosystem anyway, so you hoped he wouldn’t mind if you took a look around.

Stepping over the threshold from bedroom to bayou, the difference was immediately noticeable- the atmosphere felt thicker, warmer, more tangible. You follow the path that’s been eroded into the earth through the trees, marveling at the world that Alastor has created here. It was beautiful, the stars shining through the canopy of trees above you, green-tinted moon casting a faint glow on the flora and little creatures you could see skittering about. Maybe he wouldn’t be too averse to having your tea out here sometimes- iced, since it was a bit hotter, but you didn’t think he would mind.

A faint squeaking noise draws your attention, feet halting as you try to pinpoint the direction it had come from. A moment of silence, and then you hear it again coming from your left. You slip your shoes off to muffle the sound of your feet in the grass and creep towards the sound.

You’ve found Alastor, at least- he’s bent at the waist and face to face with a baby deer, ears flattened against his head and his smile thin. Your eyebrows scrunch at the sight, and then the fawn makes the noise that you had followed; high pitched and cute, it makes you smile, grin widening when Alastor glares at the tiny creature and imitates the sound.

They go back and forth several times, the squeaking increasing in volume and length and Alastor getting progressively more frustrated. You hadn’t even known that he could make a noise like that, so sweet and soft and genuinely deerlike that it finally makes you giggle, the fawn taking off into the darkness of the woods and Alastor standing to his normal height, ears pointing skyward as his eyes narrow at the sight of you.

“What,” he inquires, “are you doing out here?” 

“What am I doing out here? You were in some kind of squeaking contest with a baby deer- so cute by the way-”

“My actions are none of your concern.” He turns his head away from you, but even in the dim lighting you can see the faint blush to his complexion.

“Come on, Al,” you tease lightly, not wanting to actually anger him. “You can tell me- did the fawn offer you its soul if you could out-adorable it? You were doing a great job from what I could see.”

“If you must know, it was a riveting argument about the state of my bayou- whatever level of ‘cuteness’ you apply to it is merely a byproduct of the conversation. Since you’ve scared the damned thing off, I shall have to resume the conversation another time.” His smile is tense, leaning into your personal space. “You will speak of this to no one,” he says, brushing his hands off on his suit jacket. “Know that it is only the faintest sliver of platonic affection keeping your afterlife uninterrupted.”

“Gotcha,” you agree. “Big scary Radio Demon? Not cute in the slightest; I have no evidence to the contrary if anyone asks. You have my word.” You place a hand over your heart in mock-seriousness, and know that you’ve won him over when he scoffs and his smile softens. “Now come on, I brought a new tea for us to try- back to society!” You’re already contemplating how to make him make that squeaking noise again; maybe if you asked nicely he would do it for you, or perhaps you’d have to startle him into it-

“It’s not even a mile back to the room, and this is hardly the wilderness,” he complains, but he follows you anyway, your nefarious plot unnoticed.

[nogoodsheepstealing-greatgrandma]

How HOTD films Team Green vs How HOTD films Team Black

Aemond & Aegon being interrogated vs Jace & Luke having their parentage publicly discussed

First off, the moment where Viserys interrogates his sons on the rumours is in many ways a fantastically shot and tense scene. As an ensemble scene, the camera primarily focuses on Viserys, Rhaenyra, Alicent, Aemond and Aegon as we watch the emotions and suspense play out. We feel Aemond and Aegon's hurt and complicated relationship with their father, we wait with Rhaenyra and Alicent to see what the boys will say, how Viserys will react, just how will this interrogation unfold.

What we do not get is any attention on the kids whose parentage is under discussion.

This is what we briefly get of Jace just before the interrogation begins. We get a quick shot of him shouting on Baela's behalf, a quick shot of him telling his mother they were called bastards, and we see him by his mother's side as she goes into action. But he isn't given prolonged attention by the camera, he's rarely at the centre of attention. There aren't many frames of Jace - the camera just doesn't focus or linger on him.

Compare this to the multiple multiple close up shots and clear lingering focus on how Aemond and Aegon feel while their father is shouting at them. There are multiple frames giving them plenty of attention (I could only fit a handful of them on this post), letting those micro-expressions sink in for the viewer. But no focus on how Jace feels watching the rumours being spoken out loud, in front of everyone. No focus on how he feels watching his grandfather, waiting to see what he will say and do.

Will the King protect his grandson? Is Jace about to be officially labelled a bastard and have his life destroyed? How anxious is Jace watching this exchange? How upset is he when his uncle, who he used to follow around like a shadow, says for the room to hear 'just look at them'? And Luke? Does he know what's going on?

Now I am not an expert on cinematography or directing or editing etc. But I don't think it takes an expert to notice when the camera sends such a clear message to the viewer. Alicent's children are main characters whose emotions you are invited to be invested in, while Rhaenyra's children are not given equal weight. Alicent's children join her as main characters, Rhaenyra's children do not.

Even Otto and Daemon get to react where Jace and Luke do not

When Viserys threatens to cut out the tongue of anyone who mentions the rumours again, we keep the focus on Aemond and Aegon. We get to know intimately how they are feeling during this scene. But how are Rhaenyra's kids feeling? Is Jace relieved? Is Luke still confused? If the goal of making the Greens sympathetic was so the audience would feel their hearts torn two ways, then the camera is failing miserably, because it is only directing us one way.

Aemond's reaction to Alicent demanding Luke's eye vs Jace & Luke's reaction

Am I against Aemond having a close up here? No. The moment is about his mother seeking retribution for his eye after all, the close up makes sense. But it is one of many he (and Aegon) have in this scene, and again the camera is very uninterested in how Jace and Luke feel. Aemond got to respond when Rhaenyra suggested (bluffed) that he be 'questioned sharply'.

It isn't a close up, but he doesn't exactly lack for close ups. And he is still in the centre of the screen. The camera waits on the back of the chair to see him turn around and glare at his sister.

Are we going to cut to little Luke's face when a grown woman wants to cut his eye out? Or Jace when his little brother is threatened? Apparently the original draft had Luke yell "I didn't mean it! I'm sorry" when Alicent demanded his eye, and then try to hide behind his mother in fear. So at one point it seems there was some attention to how Luke feels, some effort to invite the audience to feel it too. But in the end we get the Aemond close up followed by a distant group shot of Team Black reacting, inviting the viewer to feel very little.

When Alicent attacks with the knife we do at least get a brief cut to Luke screaming. And I like the little detail of Luke holding Rhaenyra's arm afterwards, if you can spot it. Jace also appears to be present behind him, hello Jace. How do you feel about your mother being hurt? Have you realised now the danger you are in? Is now the moment you decide you have to be very grown up for your mother? It looks like it is for Aemond.

Again, I am not against Aemond receiving attention in this scene. He did just lose an eye. But this is an ensemble scene, about a family getting irrevocably split, about the next generation inheriting the conflicts of the previous generation. The rest of the ensemble are given attention - Viserys, Rhaenyra, Alicent, Daemon, Otto, Criston, Corlys - but when it comes to the next generation of characters there is a clear disparity. Would the viewer be invested in Rhaenyra and Alicent's conflict and relationship at all if the camera only ever focused on Alicent?

The camera should be inviting us to care about the conflict between the next generation - not just one side of the next generation. We get a bit more focus on Luke in the following episode and the final episode - primarily because he is about to die and the writers at least understand that we should probably care about him first.

But Jace should have been set up from episode 6 as a main character - a character who gets equal screen time and the same emotional weight as his uncles. We should have followed him dealing with his parentage, with the scrutiny and rumours, with Criston bullying him, with the burden of being both the perfect heir and the knowledge that he needs to help his mother and protect his little brothers. The camera should be inviting us to care about how he will feel when he loses Luke.

We only get rare crumbs where the camera is interested in Rhaenyra's children. While proving my point I trawled through frame upon frame of Aemond's face in this scene to find the rare shot where Jace is in the centre (at the very beginning of the scene, before the drama starts to really play out), where he isn't at the side or in the background, where the camera lingers just a little bit. I wanted more of this.

For a further illustrative example, see how differently the relationship between two sets of brothers are filmed.

Also what are Baela and Rhaena up to? The previous episode introduces us to the idea that Daemon ignores Rhaena. A scene of Daemon hugging his grieving daughters was deleted, and replaced with a scene of an emotionally distance Daemon walking away from his grieving daughters. Ok then, if you're going to introduce that idea, maybe actually do it justice? We have close ups of Daemon lurking and watching the argument at the sides - how about a shot of Baela and Rhaena looking for their dad? How about a shot of Rhaena, needing comfort, looking crestfallen that her father isn't showing any concern, that he's more interested in watching the argument than looking for his daughters? I mean if I have to watch Aegon the rapist and his daddy issues...

If Daemon is supposed to be ignoring his daughters... well there is a way to communicate via the camera that characters are being ignored without the camera actually ignoring them. The show does it with Alicent and Viserys all the time. I mean, here's how we are introduced to the girls seeking comfort from their grandparents. Distantly, beginning with a shot of Corlys and Rhaenys coming down the stairs from behind, and relegated straight to the background where they will remain for the rest of the scene.

Why add Baela and Rhaena to the fight if you're not going to do justice to their presence? Especially considering how much the dynamics of the fight have changed in addition to their presence. Initially it was an older bully hitting a toddler and then beating up little kids who came to their baby brother's rescue. Now it's kids closer in age, punching out their grievances, and it's 4 against one. This tilts the sympathy towards Aemond - who already has all the damn close ups anyway. To compensate, you have to invest in the emotions on all sides. Especially Rhaena - she just lost the last link she had to her mother, and what she probably figured was her chance to get her father's attention. So give her a damn close up. And Jace - if you are going to have him pull out a knife instead of a wooden toy sword like in the book then you better earn that moment by inviting us to feel just how much the word 'bastard' hurts him.

[teddynottss]

Hi can you please do one where him and Yn are arguing so she walks off and sits on another man's lap in spite and he gets so mad he fucks her hard and face fucks her?He also makes sure to praise and degraded her and tells her he loves her afterwards.

• - YOU WOULDNT HAVE BOUNCED ON HIS COCK LIKE THIS - •

PAIRING(S): theodore nott x fem reader

WARNING(S): smut, swearing, dirty talk, praising

SUMMARY: its a request

A/N: sorry this is rushed bc i have school, i might rewrite it again later, school is done in a few weeks so I’ll probably write more freely then.

——————————————————

You and your boyfriend theo tried your best to attend every slytherin party there is, and this one was no different. You got to the party and met up with some of your friends.

After a while, you went to check up on your boyfriend only to find him and blaise standing on the kitchen counter, drinking and dancing. They were clearly drunk as hell and when you tried to call theo a few times to help him get down, he wasn’t answering you.

Mattheo then noticed you struggling and therefore called theo, “theo, look your girl is tryna talk to you.” Theo then looks down at you “get down here are you crazy, you look so stupid standing up there” you chuckled. Theo however, didn’t find that very funny and got mad at you “fuck off you bitch”.

A loud gasp left mattheo’s mouth as blaise spoke “hey man thats not cool” to which theo just scoffed. Without saying a word, you stormed off angrily to find your friends again when you found them sat with a group of guys. “you okay y/n?” daphne asked.

you nodded your head and then felt someone grab your arm. “hey beautiful” cedric diggory, sat down next to pansy spoke. you could feel theo’s eyes on you, perfect timing, payback bitch. “hii” you exclaimed taking his hand and sitting on his lap, slightly straddling it.

theo’s eyes filled with rage and anger, he got down from the table and came your way. he could hear you giggling at diggory’s lame jokes. He approached you, grabbed you by the arm and threw you over his shoulders. He placed his hand on your ass, hiding your skirt from revealing what was under and he left the party house.

“Put me down, now!! Nott i swear to god..” you were now walking on the street, clearly on your way to his dorm. “.. why wont you answer me? so you got mad when i was talking to another guy but you told me to fuck off and called me a bitch?!?”

All this and he doesnt say a word, when you get to his dorm, he lets you down and before you get a chance to speak, he pins you to the wall, kissing you hungrily. He grabs your face deepening the kiss, allowing his tongue to slip in, claiming dominance.

He then worked on removing his pants and when you tried to take your skirt off, he stopped you. “i wanna fuck you with your clothes on” him all stripped and you remaining in your clothes, he led you into the shower and turned the hot water on.

“So you wanna be a slut huh? then act like it” you got on your knees, between him and took his hard length in your hands. You pumped it a few times before you introduced your tongue, licking his tip then taking him in your mouth.

Sucking and licking, you grab onto his thighs, which will probably leave marks later, as the hot water drenches the both of you. He grabs your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail, guiding you. “You fucking slut, immediately ran to another man huh?” you moaned onto him without using any words.

“fuckkk.. you’re going to prove to me that that pretty little mouth of yours doesnt just argue” you try to take more of him which makes you gag hard on his cock, leading to him coming in your mouth without any warning whatsoever. “Good girl, now swallow, principessa” you swallow everything, licking him clean then sticking your tongue out to show him you swallowed.

Then, he carries you up, holding you with one hand, removing your panties with the other. Once he got rid of your lace green panties, he slowly lowered you on his cock. Giving you no time to adjust at all, he begins thrusting in and out of you. “such a fucking whore” he says kissing your neck. He thrusts deeper making you whimper as you throw your head back.

He kisses you, biting your lip making you arch your back. “youre my little slut, my whore, my girl, my principessa, understand?” you nod your head. “words cara mia” “yess” you moan. “good girl, now do you wanna cum?” “yess theo please” “because you said please”.

his thrusts are now deeper and faster, you practically bouncing on him as your eyes roll back then close in pleasure. “you wouldnt have bounced on his cock like this would you” you moan a quick no as the grabs the shower head pointing it at you clit. He begins biting on your neck, abusing the skin. You scream his name as you cum clean on his cock.

“amore mio.. you are so fucking beautiful like this” he says putting you down, yet making sure he supports you so that u dont fall. “I love you so fucking much, no words are enough” “i love you too theo” “and im sorry for what i did earlier i was so drunk and wasted..” he apologized. “its okay as long as you promise to not do it again” “promise, now lets get you all cleaned, maybe we can watch a movie afterwards.”

[samstree]

Secret Ingredient

(obikin hurt/comfort, obi-wan makes pancakes, also on AO3)

The bruises look a lot worse in daylight.

The purple and green span across Anakin’s cheek, reaching the small cut at the corner of his lips. Lesions are all over his throat in the shape of fingers, with more hidden under the collar of his tunics. The half-healed wounds don’t just stop there—four weeks of being captive is enough to accumulate injuries to fill an entire page of the healer’s report. Under Anakin’s clothes, his chest is bound in bandages for the broken ribs, right above the electrical burns, now covered in fresh bacta patches. The separatists are getting creative with their torture devices, lately.

Obi-Wan goes through the list of Anakin’s wounds in his head, calculating which ones need to be redressed on what day. The Coruscanti sun casts long shadows, barely hiding the dark circles under Anakin’s eyes.

Obi-Wan aches to kiss, to soothe until Anakin can sleep them away, finally finding some rest after the month’s ordeal. But there’s more work to be done—the torturers did not pay much attention to feeding their captive. Anakin’ cheeks have sunken, the nightshirt hanging off his thinned shoulders. The constant lack of food has weakened his stomach to the point that he can barely keep anything down. For fear of throwing up yet another meal, what he needs right now is something simple, comforting, but also provides plenty of nourishment.

So, Obi-Wan is making his special pancakes.

They may be his best work yet. After all, those special pancakes were Anakin’s favorite food when he was a child. Obi-Wan still remembers a nine-year-old Anakin, malnourished and underweight when he first came to the temple. Master Che had to prescribe different nutritious powders to go along with his meals, but all Obi-Wan knew was to make them into a porridge. The boy could never swallow more than a third of what he needed.

And then, he had the brilliant idea of making them into pancakes.

The batter is the perfect medium to hide all the supplements. Obi-Wan still remembers the quiet smile Anakin gave him at every breakfast, right after finishing everything on his plate. Obi-Wan kept making them until the healers finally declared his padawan to be an appropriate weight and height for his age.

Now, more than a decade later, it’s time for Obi-Wan to use an old trick again.

Even though it’s early morning, Anakin is exhausted enough from insomnia and pain that he doesn’t notice the supplements being added to the sweet pancake mix. He only waits by the kitchen counter as Obi-Wan works, expression distracted and tired, attention splintered all over the place.

Anticipation rises in Obi-Wan’s chest as the kitchen is filled with the smell of warm, buttery pancakes, almost making him giddy with pride. He hides it well though, under a calm, nonchalant exterior.

“Here. Try this,” Obi-Wan says softly, flipping the last pancake into the plate and drizzling with syrup, before pushing it across the kitchen counter.

“Hmm?” Anakin blinks, just brought out of a stupor, looking down to notice the stack of warm pancakes. “Oh.”

“Your stomach is still weak, so I’m only giving you a small portion. Hopefully, some pancakes will go down better than the standard-issued rations from the Halls of the Healing.” Obi-Wan smiles. “I remember it’s your favorite.”

There has been a haunted look in Anakin’s eyes since the rescue, one that is hard to shake. But upon meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes and seeing his smile, part of that look melts away, giving way to the warmth in those blue eyes.

“My favorite, huh? Let’s see if it’s still the case.” He pokes a small corner off the stack and lifts the fork, an eyebrow raised while putting the pancakes in his mouth. The following pause has Obi-Wan’s heart beating in his throat, hope fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird.

“How is it?” he asks, unable to hide the curiosity any longer as Anakin chews slowly, carefully, as if he needs to channel all the energy he has just to eat. “Well, not to rush you. I know you’ve been having trouble keeping food down, and eating too fast won’t help. I just thought—it’s your favorite, after all. If anything, you could use something comforting, and there’s nothing more comforting than pancakes. I haven’t made them for years. Hopefully, it still tastes the same? If not, I can always make something else. Something you’re missing in the field, perhaps Franikhad—oh, but that’s too spicy for your stomach. There’s nothing like pancakes, truly. So… how is it?”

Obi-Wan knows he’s droning on again, as Anakin was so inclined to call it in his teenage years, but truth be told, he’s too nervous not to.

Watching Anakin struggle to recover has been one of the hardest things in this entire ordeal. They’ve got Anakin back now; he should be getting better, not barely healing because his body doesn’t have enough strength. Cooking is about the only thing Obi-Wan can do to help, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself if he fails even that.

He just… he can’t fail again.

Anakin swallows the bite, licks the syrup on his lower lip. By some miracle, he smiles. It’s a small and quiet thing, but it’s there. Obi-Wan thinks he could be soaring.

“It’s good, master,” he answers. “Tastes exactly like I remember.”

“Yeah?” A weight lifts off of Obi-Wan’s chest. “It’s truly the same?”

“Of course, even the powders are there.”

Obi-Wan pauses, blinking as Anakin takes another bite, making a pleased hum.

“Whatever do you mean?” It’s possible that the kitchen has become very warm from all the cooking. Obi-Wan feels his cheeks heat up. “What powders?”

The syrup coats the fork, so Anakin licks it clean. When he looks up again, a glint of mischief flashes across his eyes.

“Oh come on. Do you think I couldn’t tell? The nutrition powders they prescribed for me when I was still your padawan? The porridge you made was awful, and then the pancakes tasted exactly the same. You weren’t subtle, master. There must have been more supplements than flour in my meal. I noticed right away, of course.”

The pancakes are disappearing steadily from Anakin’s plate, picked apart and dipped in the syrup. Suddenly, they don’t seem like the best idea in the world anymore.

“And you never said anything? Anakin…” Obi-Wan’s heart constricts. “I only wanted you to eat something healthy because you were so malnourished as a child, and I didn’t want to force you. Force knows you had gone through enough already.” He meets Anakin’s eyes, half pleading and half heartbroken for the small boy that he used to be. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have tried something else.”

Guilt creeps into his chest, in place of the relief he was feeling mere moments ago. Anakin only stares, eyes big and impossibly soft.

“Well, it made you happy,” he answers, as if that is the simplest logic in the world. “So I didn’t mind.”

“Anakin…”

“Has it occurred to you that you were also going through a lot?” Anakin now drops his eyes, having stopped eating. “You had only lost your master, and immediately took on a padawan yourself. Every day you fussed over nutrition and proteins. My meals, my lessons, my health. But you…” he trails off in a whisper. “You were just…sad. All the time.”

“I didn’t know you could tell.”

“I can always tell.”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth and closes it. His fame as the Negotiator is nothing when it’s just him and Anakin. Clever quips and quick thinking are his weapons when the saber is out of reach, but here, he doesn’t need to fight.

“So you just lied? For years?” Obi-Wan asks, after a moment. “Putting up with your old master’s horrible cooking just to spare his feelings?”

“Not the part about pancakes being my favorite though. That is true.” When Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow in question, Anakin continues, “I saw you smile, when I ate all the pancakes. That was the first time you smiled since I became your padawan. It was so beautiful I just decided that I wanted to keep seeing it. And the pancakes were the way to go, obviously. Oh, and—” He laughs to himself quietly, looking entirely too young despite the bruises blossoming across his cheeks. Entirely too young for this wretched war. “—Do you remember the day I was finally, finally, taller than you?”

“You mean when you mercilessly rubbed it in my face.” Obi-Wan cannot hide a laugh himself. “The worst day of my life. It’s not one to forget.”

“You are joking, but do you remember I also stopped mercilessly rubbing it in your face very quickly?”

“Oh? Doesn’t sound like you.”

Anakin tilts his head, a strand of curls falling into his eyes, too endearing for Obi-Wan’s heart to handle.

“You were so proud when you realized,” he says softly. “You looked at me, barely half an inch taller than you, and the Force was singing with pride. I couldn’t keep making fun of you, you see. My old master looked like he was about to cry.”

The lump in Obi-Wan’s throat is simply a reaction to the fond memories. He is not about to cry now.

“I thought I did a half-decent job, when you grew up okay. I only wanted you to—” he swallows, the words difficult to get out. “I—forgive me—”

Obi-Wan looks away to give the turmoil of emotions in his chest to the Force. Fear, guilt, anxiety… they leave with another exhale. He lets go of everything except for love. Only love remains, wrapping around him like the bright Force signature that melds into his own.

Anakin looks at him all-knowingly, with mirth by his lips.

“Obi-Wan.”

“Yes, darling?”

The Force sings with pride again when Anakin straightens his back, puts down his fork, one arm stretched out as an invitation. “Come over here.”

“And why should I come over there?”

“Because you,” Anakin declares with all the conviction in the galaxy, “look like you need a hug.”

“Do I now?” Obi-Wan only thinks of denying it for a split second before rounding the kitchen counter and meeting Anakin’s embrace carefully, gathering him up with a feather-light touch. He maps out all the injuries mentally, hyper-aware of where his hands travel and soothe. Something within him shifts, settles into place, when Anakin is held between his arms. “Hmm, perhaps I do. My young padawan has become wise.”

“Only sometimes,” Anakin huffs.

The way he hugs Obi-Wan back is far less careful, pressing their bodies together. With Anakinsat on the kitchen stool, they are at the perfect height for him to fit right under Obi-Wan’s chin. He squeezes Obi-Wan’s middle, as if to burrow farther into the hug, as if they have not melded into one a long time ago.

He presses a kiss on Anakin’s head, hiding a content smile in his hair.

“Ow.” Anakin hisses in pain.

Obi-Wan pulls away immediately. “Am I hurting you?”

A pause, and a sheepish look. “…No?”

“Anakin!”

A boyish grin blooms across Anakin’s face. He leans forward to wrap both arms around Obi-Wan’s waist, half to pull him close, half for support. “Can you blame me? You were smiling. You haven’t since I got back.”

“And you are eating something, finally.”

“Must be the pancakes,” Anakin adds cheekily, “with your secret ingredient.”

The corner of Anakin’s mouth is still swollen and dark with a bruise, but he leans into Obi-Wan’s touch. Eyes closed, he lets his weight slump against Obi-Wan’s support and nuzzles into his chest.

He’s holding the most precious thing in his life, Obi-Wan realizes. Right under his palms, trusting and pliant. Even injured, Anakin is still trying to make him smile, and he is. The smile stays on Obi-Wan’s face, making him feel lighter and younger than he has any right to be.

“And now you feel like you need a kiss,” Anakin whispers against his tunics. “You get all quiet and shimmering in the Force when you do.”

“What will you do about that?”

Their breaths mingle when Obi-Wan lowers his head to meet Anakin. The kiss is barely there when both of them are smiling into it, tender and slow, mindful of the healing wound by Anakin’s mouth. Obi-Wan pecks him on the nose one last time before pulling back.

“You should try to eat a little bit more,” he reminds Anakin, pushing the plate closer. “Just a little, and we’ll rest. We’ve both earned it, I believe.”

“Of course,” Anakin answers, the quiet shimmers mirrored back in his Force signature. “They are your special pancakes, after all.”

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Not So Complicated

AN: Yes, I just realized that Robin and Steve didn't get the Family Video job until the Byers started to move, but this is an AU, so anything goes. . . I really couldn't help but write this. . .

He hated the idea of leaving Hawkins, just as much as Will did, but his mom wanted them to be safe, and it wasn't just that. They knew how Mom felt now that Hopper was gone, and Jonathan knew how hard it would be for her to stay. If they asked her, she would choose to stay for them, but in the process, she would be miserable. He had thought about Nancy. . .what if she died. . .would he be able to stay? Jonathan never wanted to find out. He hated leaving her, but it comforted him to know she was still alive. They had a month before they left, and Jonathan was determined to make the time he had left with Nancy count. It's how they ended up at Family Video. Movie night.

"Do you know what you want?" Nancy asked as they walked through the door, the bell ringing rather loudly.

"No, why don't you pick something out? I need to ask Steve something," Jonathan said.

"You're really going to ask for Steve’s number for Will?" Nancy asked in amusement.

"Why did you ask it like that?" Jonathan huffed. "I'm just going to talk to him."

"You know I know his number, and Dustin knows his number, so it's safe to say Will knows his number," Nancy said. "This is just an excuse. . .isn't it? You know, what? Why am I stopping this? I'm going to pick out a movie."

Steve had his back turned, his eyes on the computer screen. He hadn't even noticed that they had come in. Jonathan leaned on the counter and rang the bell. Steve sprang up immediately.

"Ahoy, ladies, I'm Steve Harrington, and I'll be your - !" He yelled, startling Jonathan. "Shit, Jonathan, you're not a lady."

"Last time that I checked," he said, laughing.

"Robin made a bet that I - you know what, it doesn't matter," Steve said, blushing. "It's a Scoops Ahoy thing."

"Yeah, I saw you in the outfit. Kind of wish I had gone to Scoops at least once to see you in action," Jonathan said. "Bet you really put it to work."

It was supposed to be a sarcastic comment, but Steve’s cheeks turned pink, and Jonathan suddenly wondered if he just accidentally flirted with him. Steve smiled softly as he gazed at him, and he was thrown for a moment. He always thought that Steve’s eyes were brown, but as he looked at them more closely, they weren't just brown. . .they were green, too. They reminded him of the forest.

"Something wrong?" Steve asked.

"Are your eyes hazel?" Jonathan blurted out.

"Last time I checked, yeah," he said in amusement.

"It's. . .nice. . .your vest really brings out the green. It reminds me of the forest. . .I like trees," Jonathan said.

I like trees? Did he suddenly turn into an idiot?

"I like trees too," Steve said, grinning.

"This is going to sound weird, but can I have your number?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah," Steve said in surprised and scribbled it quickly on a piece of paper. "Here."

"I know your name, and do you usually draw a heart over the I?" Jonathan asked.

"Only in special circumstances," Steve winked.

"I just - it's for Will, you know, in case he wants to check in," he said quickly.

"Sure, for Will," he said laughing.

"Why do you sound like you don't believe me?" Jonathan said.

"Because it sounds like you don't even believe it," Steve said as he leaned on the counter, getting closer to him and inflating his eyes.

"What - stop doing that with your eyes," he said.

"I'm not doing anything," he said innocently and stood up.

Suddenly, Nancy appeared beside Jonathan with a grin on her face. Jonathan jumped.

"I found a movie," Nancy said, and he stared at her. "Jonathan?"

"Yeah, that's great," he said, blinking rapidly.

"Is everything okay over here?" Nancy asked as she looked between the two.

"More than okay," Steve replied. "I see what you see in him, Nance. He's pretty adorable. If I were another girl, I'd be stealing him away from you."

"You're an idiot, Steve Harrington," Nancy said affectionately.

"Cute boys will make some people do stupid things," Steve said, batting his eyelashes rather obnoxiously, and Nancy giggled.

Just for a moment, Jonathan wanted Steve to steal him, but then, for another moment, he wanted Steve to steal Nancy, too. That was such a weird thought, and he was so focused on it that he didn't even notice that Nancy had dragged him outside. Did he just hit on Nancy's ex-boyfriend, and did Steve flirt with him back? No, that's crazy. Meanwhile. . .back in Family Video, Steve was leaning against the counter, watching the door rather intently.

"Well, any luck?" Robin asked as she came out of the back.

"Huh?" Steve asked, looking at her.

"Any luck meeting someone special?" She asked.

"Have you ever looked at someone for one moment and not see them, not really, but then this one small moment changes everything?" Steve asked her.

"Well, you know I always thought you were an asshole but clearly, you showed me," Robin said.

"Not like that," he said. "You know, romantically."

"Okay, so, a pretty girl walked in who you never thought was pretty before?" Robin asked.

Steve looked back at the door and thought about Jonathan. He thought about his dark brown eyes. . . The color of coffee and just like coffee, it woke something up inside of him.

"Yeah. . .he's very pretty," Steve said with a sigh.

"Alright, so, who is this girl?" Robin asked as she started putting away video tapes.

"Robin!" Steve exclaimed.

"What? Am I missing something?" She asked.

"I'm going to give you a minute," Steve said as he turned back to the computer.

Robin rolled her eyes before continuing to put away the tapes. Steve sighed and gave her a look. He crossed his arms and began tapping his foot. His best friend was still a genius, right? Robin gasped and dropped the tapes. She turned around and ran around the counter, grabbing him.

"Steven, did you say what I think you just said?" Robin asked.

"Yeah," Steve said grinning.

"Did you mean what you said?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"Okay, okay, okay. . .what does this mean?" She asked.

Steve thought of Nancy's smiling face, her blue eyes, and the way she sounded when she called him an idiot. . .the way his heart still beat when she called him that.

"Well, I still like women so I don't know," he said.

"Hmm. . .well, can you tell me something you do know like. . .who is this guy you think is so pretty?" Robin said with a grin.

"You're going to flip," he said.

"Steve, this pancake has already flipped. Time to take it off the griddle," Robin said.

"Well, it's complicated. . ."

A month or so later, Jonathan didn't call Steve until after they had moved. It had been a lot of sleepless nights lost thinking of him, thinking of Nancy, and sometimes thinking of the both of them. After a long phone call with Nancy, he nervously called Steve.

"Hello?" Steve asked.

"Hey, it's Jonathan," he said.

"Hm, I thought my number was for Will," Steve said in amusement.

"It never was," Jonathan said.

"Knew it," Steve said.

"Don't get cocky or I'll hang up," he said.

"I'm not, just happily stating a fact," Steve replied.

"So, how are you?" Jonathan asked and winced at how awkward he sounded.

"Better now that you called," Steve said.

"Oh, well, I'm glad I can make your day better," Jonathan said, grinning.

"My parents are home. . .so, I'm really glad you called," Steve said.

"Are they really that bad?" Jonathan asked.

"Steven!" Jonathan could hear another man's voice on the other end of the line. "Are you making an appointment to get your hair cut? I swear, it's bad enough that my son is too much of a dumbass to get into college. Now I have to worry about him looking like a girl. It's like you want to embarrass this family. You should at least make an effort to look like a man if you can't be one."

"I'll make an appointment after this phone call, Dad," Steve said through gritted teeth. "It would be rude to hang up on this person."

"You better," he said. "Your mother is medicating again. She just had to listen to Sandra brag about her child going to Harvard. You don't want to disappoint your mother again. You remember what happened last time?"

There was a long stretch of silence, and then suddenly, he could hear Steve let out a breath.

"She did that because of you," Steve muttered.

"Jesus, Steve, are you okay?" Jonathan asked.

"I'm fine, I will be fine," Steve said. "I guess I'm going to have to make an appointment though."

"Don't cut your hair," Jonathan blurted out.

"What?"

"I mean, do you want to cut your hair?" He asked.

"Well, no," Steve said.

"Then don't. . .you look good. . .really good," Jonathan said softly.

"Okay. . .I won't. I look good, huh?" Steve asked.

Jonathan smiled at the tone of his voice, how much happier he sounded because of him. He never thought that he would have something like that in common with Steve Harrington, and he kind of hated that his dad was such an asshole but there was a part of Jonathan that felt a little less alone knowing that there was someone else who knew what it was like to have a father like that.

"Hey, so we're going to tell Nancy that we're. . . friends now, right?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah," Steve chuckled.

"It's good. . .that's good, but maybe we don't tell her that she was right about us getting a long," he said.

"Why? She's going to figure it out anyway. You know how she is. . .especially when she's right," Steve said.

"I know, I know. . .she just gets this twinkle in her eye. . .," Jonathan said.

"That's both obnoxious and beautiful at the same time?"

"Yeah. It makes you feel like you want to be wrong all the time," Jonathan said.

"Tell me about it," Steve said softly.

"Are you still . . . Never mind, forget I said anything," he said.

"Always, I think," Steve said, answering his incompleted question.

There was a heavy silence that followed. It said everything and nothing at the same time.

"I wish I was there," Jonathan said.

"Yeah, me too," Steve said softly.

They talked longer than they should have and didn't stop until Steve’s father practically yanked him off the phone. Jonathan had flopped on the bed after that, feeling everything come alive for him in that moment. He liked Steve, a lot more than he should, but he also still loved Nancy. . .what the hell? He hugged his pillow close to his chest and sighed.

"Hey, Jonathan," Will"s voice broke through his thoughts. "El wants to play a board game. Are you in?"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," he replied.

"Are you okay?" Will asked. "Did you and Nancy have a fight?"

Jonathan sat up and looked at his brother. He wanted nothing more than to tell him. . .to tell Will that he wasn't alone, but he also didn't want to make him feel like he was pressuring him to tell him anything he wasn't ready for. Jonathan sighed, opened his mouth, and closed it again. He also wasn't quite ready yet to say it outloud. It's not that he didn't trust Will. . .he just wasn't ready yet because while he was quite aware of himself now, Jonathan hadn't really quite accepted it yet. He was feeling quite overwhelmed, and it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. There are just too many emotions swirling around in his head all at once. He just needed to breathe.

"Everything's perfect."

Days and weeks passed, and Jonathan and Steve were still in this dance that neither one would mention. Nancy now knew they were friends but had yet to see them flirt or notice the way they talked about each other. Nancy was happy to be a part of Steve’s life again, but she missed Jonathan, and she felt less alone in knowing that she wasn't the only one. Currently, Nancy was leaning against the counter, talking to Steve while Robin put away inventory.

"I don't know, Steve, I just feel like there's something he's keeping from me. Do you have any idea what it could be?" Nancy asked.

"No, and even if I did know, I'm not going to be the kind of friend who goes blabbing to the girlfriend," Steve said. "There's a code, Nance."

"What if I did this?" Nancy asked as she inflated her eyes and poked out her bottom lip.

"Those powers of yours don't work on me anymore," Steve said, lying.

"He just seems troubled about something," Nancy said with a sigh.

"Maybe it's the fact that he's miles away from you, and he doesn't know how to say just how much he misses you. You know Jonathan, he's better with the camera than he is with words," Steve said.

"Well, he hasn't actually picked up the camera in a while. Too busy smoking weed with his new friend Argyle," Nancy said.

"Maybe he needs to find a balance. Photography and spending time with Argyle," Steve said and tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice.

"Maybe he's just blocked creatively. . .that happens sometimes, right?" Robin asked..

Nancy huffed and rolled her eyes. Steve wasn't sure what it was, but Nancy seemed to have a problem with Robin.

"Maybe," Nancy begrudgingly agreed.

"Well, maybe I can talk to him and get him to talk to you. . .gently, you know?" Steve said. "But if he says he's not ready to talk about whatever ever is bothering him then - "

"I'll back off, I swear!" Nancy exclaimed and then paused. "You don't think maybe he doesn't love me anymore, do you?"

"What? No! That would be crazy! Our boyfriend's an idiot but he's not that stupid," Steve said.

"What did you just say?" Nancy asked.

"I said Jonathan's an idiot but he's not that stupid," Steve said.

"That's not what you said. You said: "Our boyfriend's an idiot," Nancy said.

"What? No, I didn't!" Steve exclaimed.

"Yes, you did!" Nancy yelled.

"No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did!"

"Robin, tell her," Steve said.

Robin froze like a deer in headlights as she cradled the tapes against her chest. She glanced at Nancy and then at Steve.

"You. . ." Robin started to say but looked at Steve for a moment, and her head snapped down to her watch free wrist. "Oh, would you look at the time. . .it's my lunch break!"

Robin dropped the tapes and ran right into the break room.

"See! You did say it!" Nancy asked.

"That doesn't prove anything! Robin is always squirrelly," Steve scoffed.

"You said it. I heard it. Robin heard it," Nancy smirked. "You called Jonathan our boyfriend."

"Hey, I mean, it's technically true. He's a boy, and he's my friend," Steve said, blushing. "You're never going to let me live this down. Are you?"

"Never," Nancy laughed.

Steve appreciated the fact that Nancy thought it was just a slip of the tongue. He wasn't ready to admit her about anything else his feelings for both her and Jonathan. How could he ever explain that? So, he let the bit go on for a while. . .up until the spring break from hell. Everything was perfect, Steve was on the cusp of revealing his feelings to both Jonathan and Nancy when shit hit the fan. He saved up money, working extra shifts, doing what his father asked of him, and then he was going to surprise Nancy with two plane tickets to Lenora. Of course, Chrissy Cunningham died, Eddie got pinned for the murders, but the real culprit was a new monster from the Upside Down. . .or rather an old one. Now, here he was, in Max's kitchen, trying to fix his bandages and trying not to cry over the image of almost losing Nancy.

"Hey, man, you alright?" Eddie's voice startled him.

"Yeah, yeah, all good," Steve said, adjusting his bandages and wincing when he decided to pat his stomach.

"Clearly, seeing Wheeler like that shook you up," he said. "Maybe I was right before."

Eddie's words sprang into his head again, and they kept spinning around in there.

". . .unambiguous sign of true love that these cynical eyes have ever seen. . ."

"You weren't wrong. . .about me anyway," Steve said. "I don't know about Nancy."

"She didn't waste a second going in there," Eddie said.

"That's just who she is," he said.

"Maybe, but Dustin told me about how she infiltrated the lab. . .stormed the gates of hell to get justice for her friend, Barb. . .she loved her, too. Maybe risking her neck out for people she doesn't know is something she does, but she's just as determined to do it for the people she loves. . .man, she's my new favorite superhero," Eddie grinned.

"Mine too," Steve blushed and paused. "It's complicated. . . She's still dating Jonathan Byers."

"So, he's all the way out in California, right? You're the one that's here," Eddie said, and Steve gave him a look. "Well, you're a better man than I am."

Steve glanced down at the hanky in his pocket. After his awakening and coming out to Robin, they had both been determined to find out any information they could find. They took off during Christmas break and traveled up to Indianapolis as well as Chicago. Steve smiled as he remembered the little bar in Chicago they had found, tucked away from everything else practically. This nice young woman who explained the hanky code to him before proceeding to make out with his best friend. It had been the best Christmas for the both of them.

"It's complicated because - " Steve started to say.

"Steve?" Nancy's voice spoke from the doorway.

Steve jumped, his heart practically leaping into his throat.

"Nancy? Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"I should be asking you that," Nancy said.

"I think it's safe to say that none of us are okay," Eddie replied.

"Are your bites hurting you?" Nancy asked, and he didn't say anything. "Steve?"

"Yeah, okay, they hurt like a bitch," Steve winced.

"We need to put some medicine on it and re bandage the wounds," Nancy said.

"I think I saw a first aid kit under the sink," Eddie said and bent down to retrieve it. "Here you go."

"Help me?" Nancy asked, and he nodded.

Steve shrugged off the vest and handed it Eddie. Nancy grinned at him and giggled.

"What?"

"I know who you reminded of in Eddie's vest," Nancy said. "Tom Cruise from the Outsiders minus the teeth, of course."

"Really. . .you know, I always thought Tom Cruise was hot in that," Steve said, and Eddie nearly choked on his own saliva.

"Yeah, me too, especially with the tattoo," Nancy said as she took off his bandages. "You should get a tattoo."

"Yeah, what would I get?" Steve asked. "Your name?"

"Oh, yeah, our boyfriend would love that," Nancy giggled.

"What?!" Eddie exclaimed, his eyes comically wide.

"It was slip of the tongue," Steve explained, and Eddie didn't ask any questions.

Nancy put the bandages on him, wrapping her arms around him as she did so. She stood on her tippy toes to whisper in his ear.

"I think you and I both know that it stopped being a joke a long time ago," Nancy whispered, and it took everything in him not to shudder. "We're going to get out of this, Steve, and we're going to see our boyfriend again. Our boyfriend."

She made sure the road rash wounds were cleaned thoroughly before patching them up as well. She kissed his cheek, put the vest back on, and went off towards the bathroom. Steve leaned against the kitchen counter, wondering if she really meant that.

"It's complicated because I'm also in love with her boyfriend," Steve said.

"Shit! Okay, yeah, I didn't see that coming," Eddie said with wide eyes. "Wait, I know we've been through hell together, but why are you telling me this?"

"I thought that maybe you might be a little safer than others," he replied.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because, you know. . .do you really want me to say it?" Steve asked.

"Yeah!"

"You're, you know. . .the hanky," Steve whispered.

"You mean this one?" Eddie asked, pulling it out of his back pocket. "It's just something I wear because I saw another heavy metal guitarist wearing one just like it."

"Oh. . .oh, shit," Steve said, and then he laughed. "Sorry, man, I thought you were like me."

"Nah, those are just rumors," Eddie said, flashing his dimples. "I never tried to deny them, though. They hated it when I acted all flattered and not like it was an insult, which it isn't."

"Thanks, man," Steve smiled.

"So, when did you know that it wasn't just girls?" Eddie asked.

"One day, Nancy and Jonathan just walked into Family Video. . .I looked into his eyes, and I just knew. I realized then it wasn't just Jonathan that I noticed. I looked at guys and girls over the years, checking out every bit of them. . .with my eyes glancing at their lips and the way their clothes fit and wondering what's under them. . .what they look like and what they would feel like," Steve said. "It hit me all at once."

"Wait. . .does everyone not do that?" Eddie asked.

"Uh, no, dude, they most certainly do not," Steve said.

"Oh. . .OH!" Eddie exclaimed and paused. "So, it's not normal to be a little into ot when you kiss your guys friends?"

"Normal, yes. Straight? Hell no," Steve laughed and slapped his shoulder.

"They were fucking right," he breathed and paused again. "Oh shit, okay. . . I feel like half gay isn't the proper term. . ."

"Bisexual," Steve said. "Only if you prefer labels."

"Okay, okay," Eddie rubbed his face and pushed his bangs up.

"You okay over there?" Steve asked.

Eddie leaned against the counter, his whole body relaxing as he exhaled. He smiled.

"Yeah. . .so, are you going to tell them how you feel?" Eddie asked him.

"I don't know," Steve said. "I mean, I had plans before, you know, but everything is so messed up now. . ."

"If you don't take the chance now. . .you'll might not get another, especially with everything that's happening now," he said and sighed. "I had so many chances to get to know her. . .but I thought she was like every other popular person who hated me . . . Then she surprised me, and we had this one moment, then she was gone. Life is short, man. Don't let your insecurities get in the way."

"Yeah, that's true," Steve said. "You're pretty smart for a third time senior."

"Fuck off," Eddie said laughing. "You're pretty great for a jock. I was glad I was wrong that all jocks are the same. . . I think I'm starting to like being proven wrong."

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve said softly.

"Anything for my fellow bisexy," Eddie winked at him.

"No! No! Absolutely not!" Steve exclaimed and Eddie laughed.

It was that moment with Eddie, that moment in the Upside Down too, that Steve clung to after he died. His words echoed in his head after Max was put into a coma, and the Upside Down came to Hawkins. He held onto them even after all that and tried not to think about Nancy's face when he told her how he felt. He tried not to think about Dustin's face when he told them that Eddie had died. Steve tried to desperately cling to the hope that the metalhead had left him with, that Robin continued to drill into them. He tried not to think about Nancy's worried expression and the words that they would talk whenever they saw Jonathan again.

He showed up two days later when they were gathering donations for the 'earthquake' relief that they were holding at the high school. A yellow pizza van pulled up, squealing loudly. Will, El, a man with long hair, and Jonathan spilled out of the vehicle. Steve watched as Jonathan and Nancy ran toward each other, Jonathan twirling her around in his arms. Steve smiled softly, watching them for a moment. Before he knew it, Jonathan was grabbing him and pulling him into the hug. No one else was looking, too busy hugging each other. Everything else seemed to fade into nothingness for a moment, blurry shapes in the background as Steve pulled back to look at them.

"Our boyfriend's home," Nancy said softly.

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"Slip of the tongue," Steve blushed.

"It was an accident then, but I think Jonathan needs to know if you mean it now," Nancy said.

"Do you mean it?" He asked Steve.

"Yes," he said. "Yeah, definitely. I love you. . .both of you."

Suddenly, Jonathan is crashing his lips to his. . .in front of everyone. Steve didn't care about that, though. All he cared about was the fact that Jonathan was kissing him, and Nancy was with them. . .in between them. He smirked as he kissed Jonathan back when Nancy let out a delightful gasp. Dustin shrieked.

"OH MY GOD!"

Steve quickly broke the kiss with Jonathan to look at everyone. They were all staring at him in shock. . .everyone except Robin and the man he assumed was Argyle. They were both grinning.

"What?" Steve asked. "I'm welcoming our boyfriend home."

"I thought that was just a joke!" Dustin exclaimed.

"It never was," Steve smirked. "Not really."

"Oh. . .and everyone involved is okay with this?" He asked.

"Well, I was the one who kissed him, so, yeah," Jonathan grinned.

"I'm definitely okay with this," Nancy said.

"I'm happy for all of you," Dustin said.

Dustin did look happy, but it killed Steve to see that there wasn't the same light in his eyes as before. It was tinged with sadness, and he could tell that Dustin was trying his hardest to be happy right now, but they were down a member, and it was difficult for him not to feel that. Steve pulled himself away from his partners and hugged Dustin tightly. The guy he had come to love like a brother was in so much pain right now, and he would give anything to fix it. Anything.

"Thanks, man," Steve said.

"I love you," he said. "You're my brother."

His heart clenched at those words. He loved hearing that but at the same time, they sounded so sad.

"I love you, too," Steve replied.

Steve pulled a way from the hug and ruffled Dustin's curls. He turned to find his partners being hugged by both their siblings. In this moment, his group of friends felt more like a family than his own parents ever did. They were going to face this thing together, and looking at them now, he felt like they could really accomplish something.

Two weeks later. . .

Steve’s vision was fading, the edges going dark as he tried to stay awake. He could feel his own blood in his hands. . .at his sides. . .just when his bites were starting to heal. He coughed, and now he could feel blood in his throat. Nancy and Jonathan were by his sides, crying.

"Stay with us, Steve! Please!" Nancy screamed.

"Steve!" Jonathan cried. "Come on, no, don't close your eyes!"

"Tired," Steve gasped.

Nancy was kissing him. Doesn't she care that she was going to get blood on her lips? Jonathan didn't either, apparently, because he kissed him too. Suddenly, he heard more footsteps. Joyce and Hopper's face swam above him, their faces pale blurry shapes.

"Let's get him in the van, hurry!" Hopper yelled.

Hands reached for him, and everything went dark. The last thing he saw was a large winged creature flying overhead. Did it have Eddie's face? Memories of his life swam before him. . .memories of playing with his nannies. . .meeting Tommy. . .joining the basketball team, the swim team, the baseball team. . .hoping each time his parents would be there to cheer him on. Then came the memories of meeting Nancy, falling for her, and the dreaded memories that came after. Her smile and her voice called to him like a beacon along with Jonathan's. He remembered getting to know Dustin, getting to Robin, and realizing that there's more love in this world than just romantic love. . .he wasn't alone anymore. He had a family. The kids and everyone else. Suddenly, he was standing in a forest. . .a mixture of green and brown swirled around him. Nancy and Jonathan stood holding hands in a clearing.

"I like trees," Jonathan whispered, his voice echoing in the empty forest.

A demogorgon stood behind them, and Steve started running towards them, trying to call out. He wasn't moving, though, and he couldn't speak either. Just as the demogorgon jumped on them, Steve woke up. A bright light overhead nearly blinded him, and suddenly, people surrounded him and pulled something out of his throat. Oh, he was in a hospital. . .hopefully. He glanced at the doctor trying to talk to him, but everything turned black again. When he woke up, he was a little more alert this time. His eyes landed on two people in the corner of the room. Eddie and Chrissy?

"Oh god, am I dead?" Steve asked.

Eddie laughed, and Chrissy giggled into his shoulder.

"No, you're very much alive," Eddie said.

"Then what the fuck?" Steve asked.

Dustin appeared at Eddie's side and into Steve’s view. He launched into the story of how Eddie (now a vampire) and Vecna's victims (who weren't actually dead) had helped El save the day. The gates were closed, and Vecna was no more. Steve hung onto every word, smiling at the light, though a little dim, was now back in Dustin's eyes. When Dustin finished telling him, he burst into tears and threw himself into Steve’s neck. Steve groaned.

"Careful, Dustin," Eddie said.

"No, man. It's alright, worth it," Steve smiled and carefully wrapped an arm around his brother.

After Dustin finished crying, he pulled back and wiped his eyes. Eddie patted him on the back.

"I'm glad you're okay," Dustin sniffled, and then he gasped. "Oh, shit! I need to tell Nancy and Jonathan! They've been back and forth between your room and Max's room. She's awake, by the way! I'm going to go get them!"

Dustin paused for a moment as if he was thinking about staying before shaking his head and rushing out of the room.

"He's never going to leave our side, man," Eddie said. "Not that I'm complaining."

"It's cute. He's happy you guys are alive," Chrissy said.

Steve grinned and laughed when he saw the markings on Eddie's neck.

"Is that a hickey, Eddie?" Steve said teasingly.

"I did that!" Chrissy said proudly.

"She went after me harder than the bats did," Eddie said, flashing his dimples.

"I can't help it if you're so yummy," Chrissy said, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him to her.

Eddie moved his arm behind her and tugged her closer, brushing his nose with hers. Chrissy giggled softly.

"Not as yummy as you are," Eddie said and paused. "Wait, is that still cute to say coming from a vampire?"

"Yes," Chrissy laughed.

The door burst open. Nancy and Jonathan came running in, breathing heavily. Nancy burst into tears and threw herself at him, climbing in beside him. Steve groaned again and laughed, wrapping an arm around her. Nancy pulled back a little.

"Oh! Did I hurt you?" Nancy asked.

"A little, so worth it," Steve said.

Nancy laughed. She began kissing his face all over, and finally, she landed on his lips, kissing him deeply. Steve smiled even though he could taste her salty tears on his lips. Nancy broke the kiss, letting Jonathan in to do the same, his own tears intermingling with Nancy's.

"We love you," Jonathan said softly.

"Love you too," Steve said weakly and cleared his throat.

"You're an asshole, though. That demogorgon was coming for me," Jonathan said.

"Cute boys make people do stupid things," Steve replied. "You're so worth it."

Jonathan started crying again and kissed him, running his fingers through his hair.

"Uh, we're just going to go and give you a few moments," Eddie said with a grin. "Glad you're alive, Steve."

Steve peered over Jonathan's shoulder to match Eddie's grin. He walked out the door with Chrissy. Clearly, they were going to make out or judging by the way that Chrissy pinched Eddie's ass on the way out, they were going to fuck. Steve smiled and buried his head into Nancy's hair.

"You know, I think there's room enough for you too," Steve said to Jonathan.

"I'm not risking pulling on anything," he said, and Steve laughed.

Jonathan rolled his eyes and plopped down in the chair next to Steve’s bed. He took his hand hand in his before taking Nancy's other one.

"It's okay, Jonathan's new bed is big enough for both of us," Nancy said.

Steve opened his mouth to say something when the door burst open, and Robin came running in with Vickie. Dustin was breathing heavily behind them.

"I tried - I tried to stop her," Dustin gasped.

"You're awake! You have no idea how scared I was. The thought that I would never see my best friend again. . . You are a sacrificial idiot! How many times do we have to go through this? You're important, too!" Robin yelled and burst into tears.

"I'm sorry," Steve said softly.

Jonathan moved out of the way and let Robin hug Steve carefully. Robin pulled back to stand at the edge of the bed with Vickie.

"You're not allowed to do that again," Robin sniffled and then paused. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No, you're good," Jonathan said.

Steve looked at the shirt Robin was wearing and then at Vickie. He tried to hide the knowing smile on his face, but apparently, it was pretty evident.

"Oh my God! He knows!" Vickie blurted out with wide eyes. "Although, I don't think I really care that he knows, unless you do, of course, Robin. How does he know, though?"

"He knows about me, and now they know about me. . .I think. Did I tell you guys or just think about telling you guys?" Robin asked, pointing to Nancy and Jonathan. "Do you really not care if they know about us?"

"If you trust them, so do I," Vickie said. "Besides, if they can keep something like this a secret then anything is possible."

"Wait, how did you know about me and Vickie?" Robin asked.

"Well, first off, you're wearing a pink shirt that's definitely not yours, and Vickie's wearing the shirt that I let you borrow that you never gave back," Steve said.

Vickie and Robin looked down, cursing when they saw he was right.

"Is that what you were doing in the on call room? Switching shirts?" Dustin asked.

"No, buddy. We were not," Robin said, slapping his shoulder. "We're dating."

"OH! Is that why you wouldn't date Steve?" Dustin asked.

"Hi, I'm Robin Buckley, permanent resident in the lesbian department," she said, wiggling her fingers at him.

"Nancy, you told me Steve and Robin had dated!" Jonathan exclaimed.

"I thought they had!" Nancy exclaimed defensively. "I know now that they are strictly platonic."

"Wait, were you both jealous of Robin?" Steve asked, and they blushed. "Well, that's cute."

"It's okay, I was jealous of Steve at one point," Vickie said.

"You were?" Robin asked.

"I had this whole plan where I would send back Fast Times to Family Video, hoping Robin would somehow notice that I had paused it at a specific moment, letting her know that I liked women. Of course, I overhead Steve and Robin talking their relationship to the next level. . .they wanted to get married! I didn't know they were talking platonically. Without even thinking, I got back together with Dan. Even though he was an asshole, he's still a person with feelings, you know. . .I can't believe it, but as it turns out, he was using me too. . .so, no hard feelings, I guess. My head was just spinning. . .you make my head spin," Vickie sighed. "I'll stop talking. . ."

"Don't you dare, I could listen to you talk forever," Robin said.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Vickie squealed, stood on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around Robin's neck, and kissed her deeply. Robin sighed against her mouth, smiling into the kiss. Dustin grinned as he moved past them to stand on the other side of Steve’s bed.

"They are so cute," Dustin said. "Hey, I saw Eddie and Chrissy go into the on call room. . .you think they're going to "switch shirts" too?"

"Definitely," Steve snorted.

"I don't think so, I saw Argyle and Eden go in there after them," Vickie said, breaking her kiss with Robin for a moment before continuing.

"Eden?" Steve asked.

"Suzie's sister. Suzie and her family came down to help when they heard about the earthquake," Dustin said. "OH! I should bring her here to meet you! She's been dying to. . . Wait, hold on, you don't think that they're all switching shirts in there?"

"Argyle is a very. . .loveable person, and he doesn't deny it either," Jonathan laughed. "I wouldn't put it past him. Eddie is his type."

"How would that even work. . .those beds are very small. . .WAIT, WHY AM I THINKING ABOUT THIS?" Dustin yelled. "Eddie's my brother! Gah! SUZIE!"

They all laughed as they watched him storm out of the room. Vickie and Robin had finally broken the kiss. Robin's arms were wrapped around her waist, supporting her on her tiptoes, as Vickie trailed her fingers up Robin's arms. They beamed at each other.

"I think we're going to find another room," Robin said. "Glad you're alive, Steve!"

She took Vickie's hand, and they left the hospital room, giggling. Steve smiled after they left, staring at the doorway they left through. Everything was falling into place for everyone. . .including Steve. . .he could believe it. . . They had won. He looked at Nancy and Jonathan. Nancy's eyes twinkled as though she guessed what he was thinking.

"Can you believe we're here now?" Nancy asked.

"No," Steve said. "But also, yes."

"You know, this could have been the solution to our problem back then," Jonathan said.

"Don't dwell on that," Nancy said.

"We're here now," Steve said.

"We just - made things so complicated," Jonathan said.

"Well, they're not complicated now, and we have all the time in the world," Nancy said. "We have more time."

"Yeah," Jonathan grinned.

Steve laughed. He doesn't know why he was laughing, but it suddenly bursts out of him. He was so deliriously happy.

"Steve?"

"Everything's. . .perfect."

[pigdemonart]

Doodles of the boys, but mostly Manuel because I dont draw him enough and hes literally the best — little known fact

A patron asked me if Manuel is like the parent role of the three, and the answer is he’s definitely more of the nurturer. But his biggest role is being the pissed off middle child who’s gotta put up with the bullshit of the oldest, and the shenanigans of the youngest. He can’t stop them from being foolish, but he can make sure they’re hydrated lmaoo

Patreon | Ko-Fi

[letoasai]

Will work for food

DP x DC An idea that's probably been done before but... here it is again.

~~

It was not an ideal setting for this. Out in the open, debris being their only cover. An unnatural storm closing in. The area had been evacuated but there was still no telling how many civilian eyes could be on them at this very moment. 

The League was scattered, making this current group a touch at odds while away from the majority of their normal teams. 

Batman stood with Red Robin, Flash, Superboy, and Raven. It wasn’t a bad lineup, but things were getting dicy. 

A monster had appeared, a creature foreign to most of them. With it came storms of all kinds, winds, hail, rain. It was a mess but there was nothing natural about it. The hail shattered the pavement. The winds were picking buildings up off their foundations. The blue lightning went without saying. The ice was changing the terrain. The temperature changes were disorienting to most of the heroes.  

Worse was the fact that this creature seemed to be able to duplicate itself, spreading the chaos out to a much wider area. They were having trouble even touching the thing let alone capturing it. 

“Are you sure about this?” Batman asked, a deep frown etched into his face as he watched Raven mark out a summoning circle. 

“It’s the only idea i have.” She said bluntly, shivering from the sudden chill. “That thing is not of this realm. We need something else not of this realm to subdue it.” 

“I hear what you’re saying but summoning a demon to deal with a demon still leaves us with a demon.” Flash said, seeing the flaw in this plan. 

“Unless you know this one personally or something.” Red Robin offered, his voice exhausted. 

“It’s not a demon.” Raven said, tone irritated but it wasn’t like any of them were having a good day. “Depending on how you want to look at it, it’s far worse than a demon. That thing came from the Infinite Realm.” 

Superboy just grunted once, watching her put the finishing touches on her spell circle. “You said that in a tone that said it was in capital letters. What’s the Infinite Realm?” 

“Bad news and something we shouldn’t freaking touch.” Raven answered swiftly. She stood, eyes going over her work. 

“Then what the hell are we doing?” Flash asked quickly, all of them tensed as the wind started to pick up again. If a hurricane was thrown at them, there was little they’d be able to do about it. 

“Raven.” Batman’s voice was serious. “You’re sure?” 

“It’s all i’ve got.” She repeated. “This is not a problem this realm was meant to handle on short notice. We need help.” 

There were several things in that one statement he didn’t like. “Who are you summoning?” 

Raven was looking rather pale herself. “The Ghost King. The King of the Infinite Realm. I’ve heard word that he can be bargained with so… we’re gonna give it a shot.” 

She didn’t wait for permission from anyone else to throw in their two cents on the matter. She threw her hands out, alien words no one else understood on her lips. The chant repeated and the summoning circle began to glow a green that the present Bats didn’t care for. 

It crept up the walls of the summoning circle in oddly pretty patterns before a gaping void opened on the ground. Silently, a figure rose into the circle from that same void. The king was smaller than they’d been imagining the last minute or two. He was human shaped and sized, a black crown floating several inches over his head. He was a wispy figure, face hidden by a large hood but there were strands of white hair floating around their shadowed face. He’d had nothing but a smoky looking tail when he’d first appeared but that had now split into solid looking legs. 

Given his size, he seems like a young adult, but it was hard to say for certain without seeing his face. 

“Woah.” Red Robin muttered, Superboy agreeing with the sentiment. 

“Heroes?” The Ghost King wondered, voice soft and lethargic. “Interesting.” 

Raven bowed her head in a show of respect. “Your Majesty. I apologize for the abrupt summons. We have a dire situation and are willing to make a deal for your help.” 

“A deal…” His voice echoed gently. He spoke as if raising his voice would shatter the very air around them. “That’s not something to choose lightly. What do you want from me?” 

Raven swallowed, her body rigid with nerves. She was almost relieved when Batman took over. 

“As i understand it, we have a being from your realm here in ours. We are underprepared to deal with such destruction and-” 

“Of my realm?” The King interrupted softly, head tipped a little as his attention turned to Batman. “Who?” 

Flash laughed nervously. “We’re not on a first name basis or anything but the guy seems to control the weather.” He pointed up and the sky above them was darkening the longer they spoke. 

The King made a noise like he’d clucked his tongue and it struck all of them as a very human kind of gesture despite his title. 

“I can handle that. Your deal?” 

Raven inhaled again, this obviously being the part she was dreading. “Blood, i have the blood of the Demon Lord Trigon-” 

“Pass.” 

That drew everyone up short. The others didn’t exactly understand the significance of Raven offering her blood but it clearly wasn’t something she’d expected to be declined so quickly. 

“My soul then….” Raven muttered. 

“Raven, no!” Superboy hissed. “The fuck!” 

Batman was also eyeing her unhappily. “Absolutely not. You are not Constantine.” 

Fortunately for the heroes, each of which was ready to revolt for such a barter, the Ghost King waved the thought away. 

“Nah.” He tugged on his hood a little and Batman realized he was likely brushing away one of those white strands of hair from his face. “That’s the thing about being the King of the Infinite Realm. Souls come to me one way or another in time. No need to preorder them.” 

Raven’s shoulders sagged, eyes shifting as she rapidly tried to think of something else she could offer. 

“What do you want?” Red Robin asked before anyone else could say something stupid. “You’re the one that’s going to fight this threat for us. What’s a good deal?” 

The King turned to him and stared. They could only assume he was contemplating his answer when he hummed quietly. “Food.” 

“Wha…” Flash muttered. 

The Ghost King just nodded. “Food from your realm. It’s been…a long time since i’ve eaten.” 

“Really? Like we could go grab you a burger and that would be cool?” Superboy asked, a touch suspicious, but the King just nodded.  

“Deal.” Raven said before anyone would make it worse. “A meal for returning this threat back to your realm.” 

The King nodded again, and each of them backed up several paces when the walls to the summoning circle broke apart and the King stepped out. For the briefest of moments he seemed to nearly stumble under the gravity of actually ‘walking’ but he got over it quickly enough. 

“Can we offer you any assistance?” Batman asked. 

The King shook his head. “No.” He wandered off towards the storm, the floating crown on top of his head seeming a little larger. He moved confidently and with purpose. “Oh Vortex…” He called, walking into the winds. 

He sounded young, but all of them agreed immediately that they never wanted to hear him beckoning them the same way. His tone was dangerous, and he walked right through a car that had been flung in his direction. 

“Cool.” Red Robin muttered. 

“Simmer down, Red.” Superboy muttered. All of them wanted to follow, but with the unstable weather and a literal Ghost King wandering about, staying out of the way felt like the best option. Of course that didn’t mean they weren’t dying of curiosity. 

Flash moved to stand beside Raven, making sure she wasn’t about to topple over because of the power it must have taken to summon a king from another dimension. “You good?” 

“Yeah.” she breathed out a sigh. “Honestly, this was an unforeseen best case scenario. You should really go get that food for him.” 

Batman moved to her otherside, hearing the voices over comms noticing a shift in what was happening. “You think it will be over that fast?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well-” Flash looked up at the sky that was rapidly clearing. “Yep. I’ll be right back.” He was gone in a blur but it was hard to believe a change was happening so quickly. 

“Has it even been a full minute?” Superboy asked. “I mean, damn…” 

“Someone better have been recording visuals.” Red Robin muttered. “We are absolutely missing something amazing.” 

“He’s the King of the infinite Realm.” Raven said. “It’s the realm that connects every other realm and it is as the name implies… infinite. He rules it. I don’t even think Trigon would dare mess with him.” 

Batman had his arms crossed, still listening to the amazed chatter over comms. “Should it be suspicious that all he wants is food?” 

“He made the deal.” Raven shrugged. “He could have asked for anything. Literally.” She stopped speaking when the hooded king returned. He was floating this time though only a foot or two off the ground. He didn’t look tired or dirty or anything. 

Just the same ethereal otherness he’d arrived with. “Done.” He announced. 

“What uh- happened to the guy?” Superboy asked, pointing vaguely at where the storm had been raging. 

The Ghost King just dug into his cape and pulled out…a thermos. “Souped him. He’s gonna have a little time out.” 

“Oh my god, i have so many questions.” Red Robin whispered. 

The thermos was put away and Batman was suppressing his own urge to ask a dozen questions over what just occurred. They’d been struggling with the Infinite creature for hours and countless lives had no doubt been altered. Clean up would take weeks if not months and this Ghost King handled it in minutes. 

“My food?” 

“On the way.” Raven said immediately. “Flash is one of the fastest men on the planet. He’ll be right back.” 

The King nodded and looked around before moving to a pile of bricks that had once been a fence. He sat down and waited, somehow looking regal among the wreckage. 

“So… I’m Red Robin.” Batman looked up again when his son was sliding closer to introduce himself. “Superboy, Raven, Batman.” He gestured and the King’s hood shifted as he followed Red Robin’s introduction of them. “Is there something we can call you or is your Majesty the most appropriate?” 

The Ghost King sat in silence for a moment before reaching up to lower his hood. The shadows that had hidden his face disappeared revealing a young man only a little older than Tim. Maybe around Jason’s age. His hair was indeed white, and was braided down the nape of his neck save for the tufts of hair that floated around his face. 

His skin was pale, and Batman thought it might have been gray or even blue in different light. His ears were pointed and his eyes were a haunting green. 

With the hood out of the way, the crown lowered to sit on his head. 

“Phantom.” He finally answered. “You can call me Phantom.” 

Raven bowed her head again and Red Robin beamed. “Thank you for helping us! We literally couldn’t have done it without you.”

Phantom nodded again but without his hood to shield him there was something shy about the action. 

The Flash reappeared in a cloud of dust, two bags of fast food in one hand and a collection of drinks under the other arm. “I got a little of everything!” He announced. “Got some burgers and some chicken nuggets and fries and onion rings. There’s one of those little apple pies in here somewhere too.

Phantom took the bags with a small smile and set them beside him so he could go through them. Superboy helped with the drinks, setting everything down so Phantom could have his pick. There were three different sodas, a lemonade, and a water. 

It wasn’t fancy and probably wasn’t a fair trade of a meal for his services but he didn’t seem disappointed. 

In a flash of rings made of light, Phantom transformed. The otherness of him was still there, but instead of a noble king of a realm, a young…very living human was in his place. Black hair instead of white was still braided down his neck and the strands around his face hung limp instead of floating. 

Those eerie green eyes were now blue but that��� oddly enough– was not the most startling thing about his transformation. He wore a large hoodie and jeans but his feet were bare. 

His hands and feet were almost skeletal, and his face was gaunt and starved looking. His eyes were slightly sunken and his skin was a sickly kind of pale. 

He looked emaciated, but there was the smallest of smiles on his face when he ate one fry and then another. He took a sip from every drink offered to him and then took a bite out of the burger. 

They couldn’t help but stand there and watch, all of them transfixed over what they were seeing. 

Phantom took two more bites before wrapping up the rest of his burger and placing it back in the bag. 

“Not to your liking?” Flash asked, voice small. 

Phantom licked his fingers and shook his head. “No, it was good. I’m just full. I’ll take it with me and eat it later when i’m hungry again.” 

Batman could only imagine the size of his stomach. Stopping now was probably the healthiest thing he could have done if he wanted to keep the food down. He cleared his throat. “Are you alright?” 

“Mhmm.” Phantom nodded, the rings of light appearing again. He was back in his healthier looking ghostly form. That was an oxymoron, wasn’t it? A healthy ghost form… 

“You’re still alive.” Raven whispered, stuck in her shock. “The living shouldn’t… The Infinite Realm isn’t…” 

Phantom’s lips tipped up in a smile. “You’re right, but wrong. I’m both. I’m dead. I’m alive. I’m balance.” He paused for a moment. “I haven’t been in a living realm for a while… guess i’ve been neglecting that side of me. Thanks for the food, it was a good deal.” 

He was gathering up the bags he clearly planned to take with him. 

“You should come back.” Red Robin spat the words out, likely before giving them any real thought. “I’ll take you to lunch. I’ll take you like… all the time. I am not going to pretend to know what you have going on but… shit, Agent A would disown me if i did not offer to feed you.” 

Phantom looked cold briefly. “Agent… A…?” 

Red Robin winced, “Code name for my grandfather. He’s an amazing cook.” 

“Red Robin.” Batman scowled at him. 

“Oh, what? He’s gonna give you the look for you not being the one to offer.” Red Robin said unapologetically, but the explanation had Phantom softening again. “What do you say? Lunch? Do i have to summon you?” 

“Jesus, Red. Let him actually decline or accept.” Superboy was snickering. 

Phantom looked between them, the confusion on his face clearing up after a beat. A piece of paper appeared between his fingers. It had some kind of squiggle on it none of them could read at a glance. He handed it over to Red Robin. 

“Have that on you, say my name. I’ll find you.” Phantom said. “I should…eat again.” 

“We…appreciate you helping us.” Raven added quickly, determined that they make a good impression. 

Phantom’s look grew warmer again. “It was fun.” With his bags and drinks in his arms, he wandered back over to the summoning circle. “I don’t mind helping when the trouble is severe and you were right. This particular problem was mine to clean up. Sorry about him, by the way. Vortex is an asshole.” 

Superboy and Flash both snorted. “Thanks anyway.” 

Phantom nodded at them again, floating in the middle of the circle before his eyes glowed that bright, toxic green again. He slipped inside the void and disappeared as quickly as he arrived, the remains of the summoning circle erasing itself. 

“So… That happened.” Flash muttered, not sure how they were gonna put this in a report to the rest of the League members. Batman wasn’t so sure either. 

“I can’t believe you were just hitting on the Ghost King, Red.” Superboy laughed. “I mean… Lunches?”

“What?” 

Raven was on her phone. “I am already telling Nightwing.” 

“What!? Hey!” Red Robin was looking between them. “I wasn’t hitting on him. You leave Wing out of this!” 

“No way.” 

“You asked him on a date, man!” Superboy grinned. “All the titans are going to know about this in the next hour.” 

“You guys suck!” Red Robin growled, his face a flame. 

Batman just sighed. “There’s clean up to do. Get to work.” 

He definitely did not need to think about his son’s audacity, coming onto a King of an entire realm. Where did he even learn that kind of behavior?

~~

Masterlist

[sleepingdead96]

Ambassador Danny AU

Just a silly thing knocking around in my brain.

Batman halted in the door of the conference room, taking in the sight of a strange being lounging imperiously in his chair. His white hair seemed to defy gravity ever so gently and his green, glowing eyes—Jason’s eyes—stared back with none of the regard or fear so many people showed towards Batman. His tanned face was speckled with tiny stars that Batman had to actively resist becoming memorized by. The boy’s choice of covering was sheening armour that refracted the light through his chest-plate of black ice. The white sleet that sharpened his knuckles seemed perfectly capable of movement despite it encasing his hands in similar fashion to the chest-plate; glassy in it’s brutal edges and as hard as the sheets that form over the coldest of lakes. 

The watchtower had been invaded. Batman had questioned why the place was so cold when he’d arrived. Now he knew.

The only thing that kept Batman from immediately reacting might have—very much—had to do with how young he looked. A boy in the second half of his teens.

And the fact that several other Justice League members were at Batman’s back as he strolled further into the room, watching the boy warily.

The boy’s eyes were unconcerned as he watched the Justice League file in. Worryingly so. Who was he that he would be so unfazed, how powerful? Or was it faith he wouldn’t be harmed, taking advantage of the Justice League’s strong morals?

The teen had commandeered the chair with all the authority of a king and the confidence of one assured of their own position. He sprawled across it. The chairs were all identical of practical, unassuming make, but this boy made it look like his throne as he leaned heavily on one side and stretched one leg way on the other. A hand was extended to dangle off one chair-arm and he had a knee braced up, showing an armoured shin protecting his black, sturdy, cargo-like pants and iced boots that jagged treacherously upwards.

The boy smirked. “Took you long enough. I was getting bored.”

Batman resisted the urge to clamp his hands over his already protected ears from the unearthly static and screeching glaciers that came from the boy’s mouth. He noticed Superman flinch and his face grimace.

“Who are you?” Batman growled. This boy was obviously inhuman. He was also an unknown. Batman would be foolish to underestimate someone who had somehow infiltrated the watchtower without being seen or setting off any alerts. Who exuded too much confidence, as if the entire world was at his fingertips.

Attacking took the back-burner in favour of garnering information in such a concerning situation.

“You may address me as. . .” He contemplated a bit too much for Batman to believe whatever he would give them would be his true name. “Danny.”

“. . .Danny.” 

The name was so. . .normal.

“How did you get here?” Wonder Woman asked with hints of warning and aggression.

The boy smiled. He had fangs. Too many sharp teeth. He didn’t answer and was revelling in their ignorance.

“What are you doing here?” Superman asked. It said something about Danny’s energy that even superman was being cautious about approaching.

“Waiting for you.” He smirked.

“Why?” Batman pushed as much threat and intimidation into his stance and words as he could. He usually didn’t have to think about it. “What do you want?”

Danny chuckled and a shiver ran up Batman’s spine. Goosebumps formed even through the protective layers that shielded him from the cold.

“Why don’t you sit?” The words should have been innocent. They felt like a trap. “You’ve gathered for a meeting, haven’t you?” 

The league members didn’t move. Danny sighed.

“Fine, fine, fine.” He rolled his eyes and Batman was eerily reminded of how much the adolescent exasperation reminded him of his own children. Danny leaned off the chair arm to lean an elbow on the table instead, propping his chin up. He was all teeth. “The Infinite Realms wishes for peace. I’ve come to investigate the possibility of a treaty on behalf of the High King.”

<><><><>

“THERE’S A DENIZEN OF THE INFINITE REALMS IN THE WATCHTOWER??!!!”

Batman held the phone away from his face at Constantine’s uncharacteristic display of panic. It did not bode well and it settled uncomfortably in his bones.

He grunted in affirmation.

Constantine swore up and down enough to fill Alfred’s swear jar ten times over. “What do they want?! What did you say to them!? Ohhhh, bloody ****! You’ve already antagonized them haven’t you?!”

“No.” Batman ground out.

Constantine was quiet. Several seconds ticked by.

“. . .WELL?!”

“He claims the High King wants to negotiate for peace.”

There was silence on the other end. Batman usually preferred it when Constantine was quiet, but this was thick and seemed to claw out of the phone to infect the watchtower. It muffled the noises and beeps and drowned out the presence of the other league members who had stepped out of the conference room with him.

Then there was a great, controlled release of wavery air. When Constantine spoke, it was more serious than Batman ever remembered hearing him.

“Okay, okay.” Constantine mumbled to himself. “Listen closely, Bats, and repeat everything, and I mean everything, to your circus clowns.”

Superman cleared his throat. “We’re here.”

“YOU LEFT THE AMBASSADOR ALONE?!”

“Of course not! Wonder Woman and Martian Manhunter are monitoring him.” Batman said. 

Constantine grumble-sighed. “Good.” He mumbled. “Two of the competent ones. I don’t trust Bats not to **** this up and get us all killed.”

“What now?” Flash said.

Batman was a little offended. “Constan—“

“NO!” He yelled vehemently. He sounded a little manic. “Batsy, you have the emotional intelligence of a wet paper bag, a sad, trampled, wet paper bag with so many holes that it can’t even be considered a bag anymore, you have the emotional intelligence of wet, paper scraps and the diplomacy of a feral hyena! Unless he addresses you first, Do. Not. Initiate! Do not open your mouth! I have no faith in you whatsoever!”

“I will n—“ Batman tried to growl again, but Constantine cut him off. Again!

“No!” Constantine reiterated oh, so eloquently. “Look.” He sighed. “Getting news of the newest High King since he defeated the last one has been near impossible. All Deadman will tell me is that he’s better than the last guy and we are incredibly lucky our entire dimension wasn’t wiped out after that stunt the American government pulled with the Anti-ecto Acts.”

Batman saw some of the leaguers pale. He suddenly wasn’t feeling the best either.

“Anti-Ecto Acts?”

“Laws declaring their species non-sentient and illegal, I dealt with it, thing is, this is an extremely delicate situation.” He stressed. “We don’t know what kind of ruler he is, what little thing might set him off, and we cannot afford to set the High King off! Capiche?! It’s a good sign that he’s willing to negotiate peace, but he could change his mind. Some ghosts are very temperamental.”

“Ghosts.” Several of the leaguers repeated. Constantine let out an incredibly exasperated sound.

“Do you idiots know nothing?! Yes, ghosts! The Infinite Realms is the dimension between dimensions, the land of the dead and the never-born! They are incredibly powerful entities and many of them could level our planet easily! Whatever you do, DO NOT ask how they’ve died! It is highly taboo and you’ll get yourselves killed!” Constantine let out a stressed groan.

“I would come back and deal with this myself, but I am. . .occupied at the moment. Don’t try to negotiate without me! You lot will muck everything up! And seriously, DO NOT ASK HOW THEY’VE DIED! Keep the Ambassador happy until I can get there, convince him to stay! We might not have another chance like this, don’t annoy them, do not ignore them, and, just in general, don’t give the ambassador any reason to deliver anything negative to King Phantom and have him erase us all, got it?”

The Justice League exchanged several, stunned looks.

“Got it?”

Batman grunted.

“Good. And Bats.” Constantine added lowly. “If this fails, I am blaming you for the end of the world.”

Constantine ended the call and the phone beeped before drowning everyone in silence. The leaguers shared more looks.

“Now what?” Hal said.

[scarletlizzard]

Inked Desires

Pairing: g!p Natasha x fem! Reader

Tags Minors DNI: smut, Natasha has a dick, also covered in tattoos w/ piercings, buff out of this world, she's hot okay, cunnilingus, handjobish, unprotected sex, breeding yup, alcohol at the beginning

A/N: I'm cheating and putting these two requests together, oops! This is my first time writing something like this, so please be gentle. Also, would really love some feedback on this so I know for the future to either write more like this or just tell me to stop now. Thanks so much for reading and thanks for the requests!! 🩵

Masterlist

~~~

"Here, take this!" Your friend says over the loud music, handing you another cup half filled with a mixture of liquor.

You don't question her and take the cup from her, drinking it down in only two gulps. Kate laughs and cheers as you do, doing the same with the cup she held.

By now, you were a few drinks in, and the house Kate had dragged you to was full of people. This definitely wasn't your type of scene, but as you danced among the bodies in the lowlit living room, you couldn't help but feel grateful she had.

As your hips move against your friend, she leans over to your ear. "She's staring at you again," Kate laughs, and your eyes move to the corner of the room.

There was the stranger of the night, a tall woman who stood out, whose green eyes had been watching your every move since you walked in the door. Her muscular arms were covered with art of all kinds, disappearing up into the sleeves of her shirt. She brought her red cup to her lips again, her face mostly hidden from the light.

Instead of replying, you only continue to dance, this time keeping eye contact with your stranger. The woman watches as your hips sway, your hands traveling your own body as you move to the music. It doesn't take long after that before she's finally striding across the room, standing a head taller than most of the crowd.

When she reaches you, you can finally see the rest of her gorgeous face. Above her sprightly green eyes, you noticed a piercing on her eyebrow, a few on her nose, and one on the bottom lip of the smirk she gave you. As she stands in front of you, you literally have to look up at her, and you realize she was much more toned up close.

"I'm just gonna grab another drink!" Kate raises her voice above the music for the two of you to hear.

"I'll catch up with you later!" You shout back to which she only laughs and shoots you a "Yeah, right," before walking off.

You turn your attention back to the stranger.

"Hi," she smiles.

"Hi," you reply curiously.

"I haven't seen you here before. What's your name?" She asks. Her eyes shamelessly roam the soft features of your face and the curves of your body.

"Y/N... this is my first time here. What's yours?" You ask with a blush on your cheeks. She tucks back her red hair behind one of her ears, revealing to you even more piercings.

You don't know if it's the alcohol or the feeling the stranger ignited in your chest, but you feel compelled to step forward and rest your hand on her muscular bicep. Your finger traces the tattoos that littered the skin there.

"Natasha," she says with a smile. "Wanna go upstairs?" A cock of her eyebrow with the piercing sticking out is enough to get you wet.

***

As soon as the door closes, the two of you are on each other, kissing feverishly. Her hands are under your shirt, touching your skin as she lifts you against the door. Your legs wrap around her hips, and you smile against her lips at how easily she lifted you. She was strong. You could feel her muscles under her tight shirt, squeezing you impossibly close.

But when her tongue slips past your lips, you gasp and pull away, a string of saliva pulling between your mouths.

"What's wrong? Do you need to stop?" She asks with a concerned expression. You look at her with wide eyes.

"No - no, I'm fine, it's just. Is your tongue...?" You didn't know how to ask. She chuckles and ducks her head before looking back at you. Natasha lets her tongue slide across her top lip, and it's then your suspicions are confirmed.

"Split, and yes... it will feel better," Natasha says in a cocky tone, her lips attaching to your neck as she carries you to the bed. You feel your back hit the soft mattress, and she lets go of you to remove your shirt.

"I want to see them all," you breathe out and run your finger over the skin on her arm. She smiles and pulls back, taking off her shirt to reveal she was completely covered. "They're beautiful..." You let your eyes take in the sight of the art, your hands tracing the dark lines and over the grooves of her abs. Natasha is a God.

As she continues to undress you, she kisses as much skin as she can, her lips soft and wet with every touch. When she gets to your breasts, you feel her tongue spread, taking your nipple between the two halves and sucking it.

"Oh- oh fuck," you moan out, suprised at the unfamiliar feeling and how good it felt. Natasha hums and lays you back, kissing down your stomach. When she spreads your legs she looks at you with hungry eyes, seeing how wet you already were.

"All this for me, baby?" She asks, letting a finger move up and down your wet folds. Your body shivers with anticipation. The way she looked at you, the way she looked, you were willing to let this stranger do absolutely anything to you.

"All for you.." You husk back, watching her split tongue wet her lips again.

Natasha kneels down at the edge of the bed and puts your legs over her shoulders, her hands grip your thighs tightly.

"How fucking lucky am I then?" She smirks up at you before placing soft, teasing kisses on your thighs.

You feel her mouth attach to your clit, and the heat in your stomach burns hotter. She licks up your slit, groaning as she tastes you.

"Fuck you taste so good," Natasha moans and let's her tongue lick up to your clit. She let's the two halves spread and rub against you. The new feeling makes you arch your back, your head thrown against the comforter.

"G-God Nat, that feels so good!" You moan and try to squeeze your thighs, but her grip kept your legs spread as she continued to eat you out. The sounds of her mouth against your wet pussy were the most sinful sounds you had ever heard, and the moans leaving your mouth were sounds nobody had ever elicited from you before.

She groans against you, the vibrations causing even more pleasure. "That's it baby," she says in between licks, "Want you to cum all over my face." Natashas tongue moves in two different ways, the coil in your lower stomach twisting up.

Your hands grip the comforter as she moves quicker, and the coil begins to unravel as you come undone

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," your back arches again and your legs tremble around her head as you let out a pornographic moan. Natasha hums agaisnt you as you come, her hands not flinching to hold your thighs apart.

She licks every drop, her tongue swirling around your sensative clit one more time before she lets go and stands up. "Come here," Natasha commands, and with a dizzy mind you sit up, trying to catch your breath. She bends down to take your jaw, kissing you rough and sloppily. You forces you to taste yourself, and her tongue pushes in your mouth, wrapping around your own tongue.

You can smell your own arousal on her face, feeling it wet your nose and lips. You blush, almost embarrassed with how wet this stranger made you.

"Now lets see how well you can ride my cock," Natasha chuckles and pulls back to remove her remaining clothes. Your eyes are settled on her breasts, unable to remove them from the piercings on her nipples. When you can pull yourself away from the sight of the silver metal against pink, you look down to see her remove her underwear. She was hard, painfully hard just from eating you out.

She tosses the boxers in the corner where other random clothes lay, and you gave her a curious look. "It's my room, don't worry. Didn't even know you were in my house, did you, love?" Natasha strides back to the bed and sits with her back against the headboard, pulling you closer to her.

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry... my friend kind of dragged me out tonight," you say with red cheeks, and she kisses you desperately.

"Thank God she did," Nat mumbles against your lips. She lets out a groan as your hand reaches between the two of you to lightly grip her cock, and you could feel how she was already throbbing for you. You begin to move your hand up and down slowly as the kiss turns sloppy, her tongue sliding yours between hers. Natasha revels in the feeling of her in your soft hand, your delicate fingers moving along the veins of erection.

"Shit - that feels so good," she moans into the kiss as your hand movements speed up. Your thumb swipes across the tip, precum dripping out already. You smile at the low moan that leaves her lips and continue to jerk her as you kiss. "I need you, please. Fuck I need to be inside you," she begs, and the sound of her begging was something you wanted to hear again. You take her lower lip between your teeth, sucking on the piercing before letting go with a 'pop'.

"I wanna ride you so bad, Nat.. I'm so wet for you," you whisper and let your kisses trail down to her sharp jaw. You feel her cock twitch in your hand as you speak and she grabs your wrist to stop your hand movements, panting as she does.

Natasha turns you around quickly, groaning at the sight of your ass as you straddle her lap and let her hands guide you onto her thick cock. You slide down slowly, letting out a moan when you feel her filling you up.

"Just relax baby, you're so fucking tight," she mumbles as she watches herself slowly disappear inside of you. She let's out a low moan as she feels your hot cunt swallow her, the back of head hitting the headboard when she feels your walls squeezing her. The feeling alone was enough for her mind to sever ties with reality, the only thought was you.

The sensation has that coil tightening inside of you again. You rest your hands on her toned thighs for support, relishing in the way her muscles flexed underneath your fingertips.

Natashas' hands continue to guide you, and after you had adjusted to her large size, you begin to grind yourself down on her lap.

"Just like that baby, fuck... feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock. You were just made to take me," she groans, her words only driving you to move your hips faster.

Her large hands move to your sides and up your body, groping your skin as she starts to move her hips up to meet yours. The two of you find a rythem together, and soon you find yourself willingly bouncing on her cock. Her hands moved to gather your hair, wrapping it into a fist in her right hand. She tugs on it and pulls your head back, a loud moan leaves your lips at the feeling.

"You like it when I'm rough with you, don't you?" She smirks, tugging your hair again.

"Yes - god, yes, Nat!" You whine as her lips find your neck. She bites down hard on your pulse point, surely leaving a mark, and leaves hot open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

"I know you do, you little slut. Fucking dripping on my cock. You feel how easy I slide in and out of you?" She says and with her left hand she grabs your jaw. "Answer me."

"I'm so wet, you make me so wet," you whine again, feeling her fingers move between your teeth. You suck hard as you look in her eyes, your tongue swirling around spit dripping down your chin. When you bite down, it surprises her, but she only chuckles darkly.

In a second, Natasha had let go of your hair and pushed you down face first onto the mattress. You gasp at the sudden emptiness, but soon after, she's lifting your hips and sliding into you again. Both of you moan at the feeling of how deep she goes.

"Christ, it doesn't matter how long I fuck you. You're just - so - fucking tight," she grunts in between words, her cock drilling you into oblivion. With every thrust you can hear the bedframe hitting the wall, and you can't help the pitiful noises that leave your mouth.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum," You rasp out. A sharp slap on your ass makes you whimper as you feel it begin to sting.

"No, shit, hold it in," Natasha warns. You feel the pressure of her body move on top of you. The piercings on her breasts rub against your back with each powerful thrust, and her arm moves underneath your neck to hold you tightly.

Natasha grunts in your ear as she pounds into you, letting out a moan when she feels your slick cunt tighten around her length. "I'm almost there, baby. Are you gonna be a good girl and come all over my cock?"

You nod the best you can in her tight grip, only able to get out a "Yes," in between gasps.

"You feel so good, Y/N. You want me to cum inside you? Fuck- I wanna fill up your tight little pussy so bad..." She groans against you and her words send you over the edge.

"Oh god, Nat! Please fill me up, please," you beg her, and just the thought of it is enough to let go. Your orgasm ripples through your body, sending shockwaves of pleasure to your core.

Natasha moans loudly as she feels you coating her cock with your cum, and she can no longer hold back. "Fuck- Y/N!" She groans and you whine as you feel her hot load spurting inside of you, her cock twitching as she slows her movements. "Take every.. last.. drop.." She pants as she thrusts a few more times.

The two of you stay like that for a while, her cock inside you as she stills above you. Your head rests against her arm as you attempt to catch your breath. When she removes herself slowly, and you wince at the soreness and empty feeling. Natasha lays next to you and you turn on your side to face her.

"Hi," she chuckles at the exhausted features on your face.

"You just fucked the life out of me and you're going to say... 'hi' ?" You laugh, suprised to see a blush on the strong womans cheeks as she laughs along with you. Your hand reaches out, resting on her stomach and tracing the lines of her tattoos again.

After the two of you clean yourselves up, you begin to dress yourself, feeling her eyes on you as you pull your shirt over your head.

"You don't have to go, you know. I'm not like that," she says gently, and you look up to see her pulling on a pair of jeans. You smile at her kind demeanor and walk over to her.

"I have to take my friend home," you say and lean up on your toes to kiss her cheek. She has to bend down for you to reach her lips, but she doesn't complain.

"Well, maybe I can take you out sometime," Natasha smirks and rests her hands on your waist. You nod as you look up to her.

"I would love that.." You reply honestly, wanting nothing more than to get to know her and count the endless tattoos that cover her body.

[blondedmuse]

BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE (BEAUTIFUL PROBLEMS)

synopsis. ꩜ how felix comforts you.

author’s note. ∿ i wanted to write something (kind of) short and angsty so here’s this

When Felix woke up his skin was cold, lacking the warmth your body gave him in the night, his arms holding onto the ghost of you. He lifted his body from his bed, his eyes in search of his room for any trace you you. He couldn’t find anything. He checked the room you were assigned when you first arrived at Saltburn and you weren’t there either—not that you used it anyways. So, he walked downstairs to the dining room assuming you were at the table eating breakfast. While everyone ate at approximately at the same time it was in Felix’s nature to be a little fashionably late.

His assumptions were correct as you sat for the meal, looking down at your food. It was when you looked up at him he noticed something innately wrong, unable to ignore how your eyes were tainted red as they flit around the room, unable to hold his gaze. You hadn’t said much other than please and thank you the entire time, ultimately excusing yourself early, the sound of your feet resounding throughout the house as you walked back upstairs.

“Is she okay?” Venetia subtly whispered to Felix and he shook his head with a shrug. “I don’t know,” He responded seriously. Elsbeth gave her son a look of concern, the green light that it was acceptable to excuse himself.

“If I may, I’m going to excuse myself to check on her.” His parents nodded and he followed the same way you went. He eventually traced you back to the bathroom that separated your two rooms, peeking in the door when he heard your figure slosh in the water of the bathtub.

“Can I come in?” He asked quietly and you nodded. Your knees were to your chest as you held a cigarette in your hand. Felix kneeled beside you, replacing the cig with his hand, putting it out on the ash tray beside the bath it seemed you brought with you. His thumb massaged your hand in silence as if it would magically ease whatever was devastating you—it didn’t, but it calmed the both of you to know that it helped.

“Do you want me to join you?” He mouthed, quieter than the previous question as you looked at him again. Still you didn’t say anything, only nodding as he reluctantly released your hand to remove the clothing from his body. You moved from your position momentarily to make room for him in the bath, sitting in his lap once he was submerged with you.

He didn’t push you to talk but there was something so concerning, persuasive about the look in his eyes you almost felt guilty for staying quiet. Felix would never intend to make you feel that way, there was just something about him that made you want to open your heart to him knowing that he’d keep it safe.

The thought alone made your eyes water like they had earlier that morning, the reason why you left him in bed alone. You rested your head on his chest as you cried, Felix’s arms around you, rubbing at your back as you did so. His head rested atop yours, cringing to himself each time he felt it shake from a sob.

“I’m right here, okay?” He mumbled into your hair. His statement made it seem like he was a few doors down or right next to you, but in truth his body was wrapped around yours, protecting you like a shield from anything that threatened to hurt you. He knew he couldn’t, but right now it was the best he could do.

[meiieiri]

𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: in which toji hears the words “happy birthday” for the first time.

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader | song inspo: cliché | visuals: keychain | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: brief mentions of physical and emotional abuse (toji’s painful past, really, i just wanna give him a big hug). inspired by the works of @/ddub1618 on twt!

He could get in trouble for this, now, normally, he doesn’t sneak out of training but Toji’s curiosity got the better of him this time. Being one of the taller kids, he stays close to the ground so his hair doesn’t stick up from the bushes. He holds his wooden katana close, peeking when he hears delighted laughter coming from the engawa of the estate, a sound that’s a little rare here in the Zenin estate.

“Happy birthday!”

Toji’s breath hitches in his throat when he hears the happy giggles of one of his younger cousins, and he stealthily sneaks over to a tree that’s just a few feet from one of the estate’s buildings, hiding behind the trunk, peeking from time to time to see what’s going on. He watches with a glittery look in his eyes when his aunt presents his third or fourth cousin, Toji doesn’t really know at this point, with a gift box, happily urging the little one to open it.

A thousand thoughts were running through his head as he inquisitively watched the toddler open their presents and have some of the sweet colorful mochi his parents must have requested from the estate kitchens for this special day. The sweet smell of osekihan lingered in the air, and Toji’s stomach growls at the decadent aroma of the slow-cooked red bean rice. He doesn’t get to have sweets often, so he is left wondering if his parents would allow such a thing for him on his own birthday.

“Toji, what are you doing here?”

Toji stiffens at the sound of his older brother’s voice. “Shh, I’m trying to watch.” He says, pressing an index finger to his lips, making a shushing sound. “Look there.”

Jinichi momentarily places his hands over his hips, indulging his younger brother. “It’s just a birthday. What’s so special about it?”

The younger Zenin huffs at the arid response. “I’ve never had one of those before.”

Toji looks down at the broken fingernails on his hands, worn out from the grueling training regimen today, he imagines what it would be like to hold a present and not sharp edged rocks for once. He can only imagine the excitement he’d feel as he slowly pulls the green gift wrapper off the box, being extra careful with it because it looked too pretty and expensive to haphazardly tear apart. As for the tooth-rotting mochi he’ll be receiving, he’ll do his best to only eat tiny pieces of it at a time, making sure to leave some of the sweet treat for later because who knows when he’ll ever get to eat such a luxury again?

“Say, why don’t I get a birthday? It’s always just you getting one every year.”

Jinichi rolls his eyes. “Everyone has a birthday, dimwit. But not everyone celebrates their birthday.” Toji scowls in displeasure at that, his bottom lip curling up in a pout. At his brother’s petulant silence, Jinichi taps out of the conversation, turning on his heel to go back to the training grounds. “I’m heading back, I’m not about to catch another beating because I went to go look for you.”

“Go do whatever you want. I’m staying.”

And with that, Toji turns his attention back to the joyous occasion, looking longingly as the little birthday celebrant receives a loving peck on the cheek from his mother. He doesn’t even notice the familiar ache in his heart that accompanied how his fingers touched his cheek longing for the day his own mother does that for him.

In a perfect world, all children are wanted; they’d have warm beds to snuggle in at night in place of a rundown storehouse’s cold hardwood floor, their cheeks would be showered with kisses and not harsh slaps, they’d be lulled to sleep by warm lullabies and not the sound of their parents arguing why their child turned out this way like they’re some factory defect, they’d be given toys and not weapons that they need to master.

In a perfect world, Toji would have spent his sixth birthday with a plate of nerikiri in front of him and not some random rocks he found in the garden and lined up in a neat row to make it resemble the white bean dessert. He’d be surrounded by the people he so painfully loves and not the sympathetic ants that crawled on the grass in a tucked away corner of the Zenin estate’s compound on the day he was born into this world.

In a perfect world, Toji wouldn’t have to sing himself a ‘happy birthday’ because no one else ever cared to do it for him.

“Happy birthday, Toji…”

“Toji!”

He must have been zoning out. You told him to meet you outside Shinjuku station today for your date and he doesn’t really know how long he’s been sitting in the waiting area, but it must have been long enough for his mind to wander to the agonizing recollections of his childhood. Toji looks up to see you hurrying to tap your train card on the turnstile with a tired smile that’s pretty hard to miss.

Toji stands up to meet you halfway and you giggle, launching yourself in his arms. Toji loves it when you do that, it shows how you trust him completely that in any and every given second, he’ll always catch you. Burying his face in your hair, he inhales the floral smell of your shampoo, the haze in his mind dissipating ever so slightly.

He frowns when you’re the first to pull away and he opens his mouth to whine about it, but he instantly drops it when he sees you holding up a little gift-wrapped box in front of him. Toji blinks. “This for me?” He almost couldn’t believe it. “You actually remembered?”

You’ve been casually pretending this entire week that you didn’t know what was coming up because you’ve been trying to keep your little surprise low-key until today. Nodding, you kiss the scar on his lips.

“Of course I did! That’s why I was late, I was looking for some…uh…well, never mind! Just open it!” You tap your toe against the floor shyly as his fingers nimbly and painstakingly unwrap the present.

As if he had stepped into a time machine, Toji pictures himself back in the Zenin estate, his knees pulled to his chest as he celebrates his birthday alone, a solitary tear streaming down his face. Except something’s different like the time-space continuum hit a snag or something. The difference being a miniature version of you, smiling adoringly at him, as you plop down next to him on the dirt ground, not caring if your little dress got soiled. In his hands, in this version of events gone by, is a half-opened present wrapped in a beautiful blue gift paper.

Oh, how it would have been nice had that been the case all those years ago when your gentle hands would cup both his cheeks, your thumbs gently rubbing his bruised cheeks. How you would have brightened his days with your warm sunshine.

After what seems like an eternity of gazing into your orbs, seeing his modified past play like a montage from the light reflecting off your eyes, Toji opens the gift and he picks up a crocheted keychain, his index finger flicking the metal hook.

“A frog.”

You chortle as he points out the obvious. “It was the easiest thing to crochet,” you said defensively. “I was late today because I was looking for these,” you point to the black beads serving as the little frog’s cute eyes.

“There’s a…” Toji trails off, his voice wavering. You know what he’s talking about, so you take his bigger hand in your delicate ones. The two of you gazing at your little masterpiece.

“Sorry, I kinda ripped it when I pulled the yarn a little too hard. Guess I was getting sleepy.” You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly. “Then, I kinda ran out of green yarn to fix it, so, I had to improvise. I’m sorry if it seems a little offensive—“

Toji cuts you off with an abrupt kiss, not caring if the two of you were attracting a crowd of commuters as the two of you kiss in the middle of a crowded train station. “It’s not half-bad, squirt. Don’t worry.” He ruffles your hair, eagerly suppressing his smile as he looks at the frog keychain that’s meant to resemble him with the tiny pink scar you knit on the corner of the frog’s smiley lips.

Your heart practically leaps out of your chest and you nudge him gently as he continues to stare at the keychain. “Don’t lose it now.”

“You kidding? I’m putting this in a damn safe.”

The two of you share a laugh at that, your fingers interlacing with one another as your lips brush against each other once more.

“Happy birthday, Toji.”

[satoruxx]

PARACOSM OF THE GODS.

PAIRING: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru x f!reader | 11.5k words

SUMMARY: ok here we go, canon au, angst, fluff, best friends being in love, stsg being whipped but unable to express it, reader is clueless as usual, timeskips, canon compliant deaths, bittersweet, longing, mutual pining, emotionally stunted teens, dad!gojo makes an appearance, hopefully that’s it i'm tired of typing

RHEYA'S NOTE: highkey lowkey stressed posting bc this has been sitting in my wips for 4 years now. i honestly didn't have to add much to it i basically just proofread. but yeah when you maladaptive daydream and create a plot where you're a character in jjk and you're also in love with gojo and geto this is what happens. a little sad to let this go but it's time !! plus i can add more parts later. but anyways pls lmk what you think, i'm super curious to know <33

i. the unknown

satoru's first impression of you is anything but kind.  

his words come casually, free into the wind without care, and they aren't meant for you to hear. instead, they fall only to suguru's ears, evoking a deep chuckle and a slight shake of his head. his bangs swish a little with the movement, but satoru is too busy eyeing you over the frame of his shades to notice. 

you're lucky to have not heard it, because the intent with which it was said would have probably made your brow tick with frustration. he says it without a thought, as if he hasn't the slightest bit of interest in you as hints of arrogance fill his tone. 

"who's the rookie?" 

satoru and suguru sit outside against the patio railings of the classroom they had chosen for the day. it overlooks the grounds of the school, where they have a clear view of who approaches the main entrance. suguru absentmindedly clicks his lighter—shoko had gone to get another pack of cigarettes. 

it is from this higher point that they have a clear view of you. you're so obviously new to this, satoru thinks as he watches how you awkwardly stand in front of yaga sensei. 

he already wants to label you as a side character. it's mean, he realizes—cruel even, but he can barely bring himself to care. 

"yaga sensei mentioned that there'd be a new student joining us this week," suguru says, fingering the bangs hanging in front of his eyes. they roam over you with only slight interest before uttering your full name, just as his teacher had said it.

satoru repeats it with a hum. "not a big name or anything. a small-sized family of sorcerers i think." he shrugs carelessly. "but honestly i never really paid attention to all those stupid clan and jujutsu family lessons." 

suguru only responds with a good-natured chuckle, tearing his eyes away from the scene to look at his friend. "no shit." 

the two sit in quiet silence, watching yaga's lips move in structured, emotionless greetings as he shakes your hand. satoru is especially focused on the hunching of your shoulders and the way your eyes nervously dart around. 

suguru is the first to interrupt the peace. 

"maybe she's strong?" 

"are you kidding?" satoru scoffs as he stands up straight, shoving his fists into his pockets. he turns his nose up slightly. "that's not the attitude of someone who's confident in their abilities." 

ii. routine 

"can i ask you guys a question?" 

a cool breeze tickles your skin, goosebumps rising in its wake, and you suppress a shiver. the smell of the air tells you winter is fast approaching. 

"you just did," satoru hums, his snowy hair splayed out against stems of green grass. suguru's chuckle reverberates deep in his chest, and you have to push back an exasperated smile. 

"another one then," you press, leaning over satoru's face to force yourself into his view. his blue eyes pierce through yours over the dark-rimmed frames of his glasses, and even after seeing them so many times, they still feel as dominating as the first. he hums again, and you take that as your cue. 

"what did you first think of me when we met all those months ago?" 

satoru sits up quickly, and you can already feel your shoulders dropping when you catch a glimpse of the teasing smirk on his lips. he shifts so that he's directly facing you, leaning close so that the two of you are barely a palm's distance from one another. 

"thought you were an annoying little rookie~" he sings and you immediately shove at his shoulder.

"'m not a rookie anymore," you huff, and satoru laughs joyously. suguru only grins, his eyes darting between the two of you happily. satoru moves himself into a proper sitting position, digging his long fingers into your bag of chips and popping one into his mouth. you swat at his hand, even though you don't mean it, because though you complain about gojo satoru all the time, you would give him the whole world if you could. 

you and satoru take turns reaching into the bag. you wonder if the sound of crunching disturbs suguru. he's not asleep—he's just doing that thing where he keeps his eyes closed and escapes to his own land of tranquility. you'd like to give him as much peace as you can, so you stay quiet. satoru does too, but you think that's just because you aren't talking to him. 

the quiet is nice when you're with them. sometimes silence makes you feel alone—paranoid. it feels like there is some impending doom hovering over your shoulder, and all you can do is wait for it to come. but with them it is different. you know that any danger in the quiet will be caught by the two of them. maybe that's why it's so easy to let your guard down around them. you trust that they won't let you die.  

"i thought you were weak," satoru pipes up after a few minutes of silence. "you didn't seem like you were confident in your abilities, and that's a sign of weakness." 

after spending so much time with satoru and suguru, the word weak has permeated almost every one of your conversations. later you learned how much more significant it was for them to label someone as strong. you chase after the word—crave it.

"and turns out that wasn't true." suguru adds with a smile, his head leaning back against the trunk of the tree. his eyes are still closed serenely and you wonder if he can feel the way you're gazing at him. 

"yeah and now you act like some big hotshot," satoru grumbles, as though he doesn't want to admit to his old mistake, but you can hear his smile. it annoys you, the way his once degrading little nickname has now somewhat turned into a term of endearment. you would rather die than admit that you like hearing him say it. 

"well, I'm glad that i was able to prove you both wrong."

the conversation ends there. 

shoko returns a few minutes later, tossing you a can of soda and suguru a pack of cigarettes. as soon as she sits down in her spot under the tree you're forcing your head into her lap and kicking your feet onto satoru's legs. you ignore his complaints, because you know that in just a little bit he'll quiet down and his hand will rest over your ankle, fingers soft but firm. they'll occasionally drum some rhythmic tune, or draw nonsensical patterns against your skin.

shoko's fingers thread through your hair, just like they always do, and you know that in a few minutes you'll doze off in her lap, just like you always do. it's clockwork, this thing that you have with them. they make the days keep going—time doesn't stop for you. 

a part of you wishes you could freeze time at that moment. 

but you can't. 

iii. halcyon

"hey suguru?"

"hm?"

"how come you always do your hair the same way?"

suguru glances up from his book. he's seated at your desk, and for a minute, the breeze pushes your curtains so that they block your view of him. satoru groans lightly from your left, turning on his side to snuggle deeper into your pillow, and slumber overtakes him once more. him and shoko remain quiet, faces free of worry as they dream in a land that is so unlike the real world you live in.

"what do you mean?" suguru asks in response to your question. he has an amused smile on his face as he places his book on your desk, though his thumb and pointer finger keep his page.

"well…" you suddenly feel stupid for asking, but he's looking at you so intently now. "you have such nice hair. you could style it in so many different ways."

"are you saying you don't like my hair the way it is?" he frowns.

"no no!" you scramble, shaking your head emphatically. quite the opposite actually you think he's so so attractive—how on earth did you screw this up so badly? "that's not it i just—"

he laughs, tilting his head fondly. "i'm just messing with you, hotshot."

you blanch, before crossing your arms with a huff. "asshole…"

he chuckles, before lifting a calloused hand up to finger the tie that holds his hair in a bun. he glances back at you, before a michevious smile settles on his face. he gives the tie one sharp tug, and the bun falls away. black hair drops, resting on his shoulders, and you stare at him—oddly parched. wind brushes through the open window, tickling your curtains, tickling his now open hair. you had seen his hair down before, of course. in the few seconds after a sparring session when the bun had gotten loose, or when too many strands escaped the tie and fell in front of his face (he always pushed them away with an agitated huff). but now he looks different—good, you realize. he looks good.

"how should i style it then, hotshot?"

his question shakes you out of your daze. you hum in contemplation. "i don't know."

he laughs quietly, as to not wake the other two. "didn't you just say there were so many ways to style it? enlighten me then," he teases, reaching over to grab a small scrap of paper from your desk. he slots it where his fingers are holding place, and then closes the book. he swivels in the chair to face you completely, rolling over so that he's right in front of you.

"well…" you start, biting your lip in thought. "a ponytail maybe?"

suguru bunches his hair into his fist, holding it up against his head. "and? how do i look?"

you grin, eyeing the new style with a stifled laugh. "fantastic."

he laughs again, louder this time, before dropping his hand.

"it looked good though!" you laugh and he rolls his eyes fondly.

"yeah yeah," he dismisses with a wave of his hand. he looks back at you, eyes tracing over your hair before he grins wide.

"i like yours."

you blink. "mine?"

"the way you did your hair today," he points to the half up-half down style you've thrown together. a dark blue ribbon holds the hair in place—satoru had said it matched nicely with your uniform. suguru's eyes gleam as he appraises it. "it's nice. it looks really pretty on you."

something in your chest feels like it fell off a cliff.

"oh—" you stumble, before smiling at him because that's all you can do when he makes you feel like this. "thanks suguru."

"do mine like that," he says quickly.

once again, you blink owlishly and all you can manage is a stupid "huh?"

"do my hair like that," he repeats, getting up from the chair to sit at your feet, back towards you. he crosses his legs and puts his hands in his lap, patiently waiting.

"you can't do it yourself?" you tease, scooting closer to the edge of the bed.

"i can," he replies and you can hear the easy smile in his voice. "but i want you to do it for me."

"okay then!" you laugh before gently parting sections of his hair out. and then you work in silence, putting more effort into his hair than you've ever done with your own.

iv. fragility

"lady riko does not have any relations. when she was young, her family was involved in an accident…since then, i've been her caretaker. so please let her at least spend time with her fr—" 

"—so that makes you her family then." 

suguru's words seem to stun kuroi, the weight of riko's situation finally making itself clear as her face crumbles. 

"…yes." 

you listen to the way her voice wobbles, and try to suppress the poisonous lump forming in your throat. 

"then we do everything we can to make her happy," you say solemnly, leaving no room for argument. suguru seems to agree and says nothing—some deeper part of you feels something more than thankful towards him. 

"you're awfully sensitive for a jujustu sorcerer, you know that?" satoru comments offhandedly. you turn to look at him, meeting his piercing gaze over dark rims. 

"maybe," you concur. "is that considered weak?" 

satoru seems to ponder his answer, before shrugging, a light smile on his face. "to some people, maybe." 

you manage to smile back, and he takes in the expression with an odd look on his face. "say what you want, satoru. but you agree with me, don't you?" 

he looks away, eyes gazing out to the distance where you know riko is currently in class with her friends, trying to live the life she wants, and something in them softens considerably. 

"we'll do things the way she wants us to." 

it's one sentence, said without a smile or laugh, but hearing it fall from satoru's lips makes you beam at him. 

that's just your kindness, isn't it, satoru?

your heart leaps when you notice the tips of his ears tinge with rouge. 

v. longing

riko's hand is warm against the coolness of your fingers. your body feels hyperaware of your surroundings, toes deep in hot sand and salty air sticking to your skin. for some odd reason, you can't seem to relax. unconsciously, you tighten your grip around the young girl's palm. she glances up at you, but when you look down at her, she's wearing the biggest smile you've ever seen. 

satoru's presence makes itself known behind you—his shadow looms over yours in the sand. "it'll be fine," he says.

you can't see his face, nor can you see suguru who stands at his side, but your shoulders drop slightly, and you find yourself smiling back at riko. 

"i'm getting in the water!" she squeals eagerly, before dragging a helpless kuroi with her. satoru laughs—a clear, pristine sound—and follows after her. you watch the three of them with a fond smile, something akin to content settling deep within you.  

"and what are you planning on doing?" suguru asks. you turn to look at him, watching the way his heavy eyes stay focused on you. 

"hmm," you quirk a brow mischievously. "build sandcastles with me?" 

suguru blinks owlishly before he breaks out into a good-natured laugh. 

"deal." he walks closer to the water's edge, where the sand is damper, and crouches down. he turns to look at you over his shoulder. "don't make me do all the work, hotshot." 

you stand there, taking him in—really taking him in. he's just as clear as the sky behind him, and the sun shining on his face makes his smile glow. you want him to continue smiling at you like that well into the future. the waves crash onto the shore, as though the ocean is chasing his radiance, and an overwhelming feeling of unfiltered affection swells in your chest. 

your feet carry you forward, and you think that they might always lead you back to him. 

the sun rises as time passes, and occasionally you spare a glance at satoru and riko, who are screaming as they splash water at one another. and then you catch a glimpse of kuroi, who stands with her feet in the water, a soft smile on her face. 

and in that moment, nothing can be ruined. 

"what's wrong?" suguru's voice calls out, and you tear your gaze away from the others to look back at him. he stands behind you with two strawberry ice cream cones in his hands. 

"nothing," you hum, a serene smile on your face. "everything's perfect."

his eyes trace your face, stopping to linger on your smile, and they soften. "it is, isn't it?" 

he turns to the ocean, watching satoru and riko, and his eyes sparkle. "i hope it stays like this always." 

"me too." 

he bends down to take his place at your side before he hands you a cone. you take it from him. suguru's eyes drift away from you to look down at his castle. 

"i think it looks great," he expresses, before taking a lick of his ice cream. 

you roll your eyes with a huff. "yeah, because you made it look so nice. you're unnecessarily good at this, suguru." 

he laughs, waving his hand dismissively. "no no, we did it together! and yours is nice too!" 

"maybe," you grin, looking at his castle. "but yours is extra pretty." 

he smiles back, before pointing at a small hole in his sand tower. "see this room? it's yours." 

"mine?" you chuckle.

"yeah, all yours," he hums softly. "this is my castle and you get your own room." 

"oh? and why's that?" 

suguru's gaze lingers on you, and his dark eyes soften considerably. "because you'll always have a place in my home." 

you stare at him, speechless—something hammers away at the inner crevices of your chest. 

"and this one—" he points to another hole a few inches away from the first. "—is my room." 

"well in that case, that room is mine too!" you declare.

"what?" he barks out a laugh. "how does that work?" 

"well…" you grin at him, the sun burning into your cheeks. "because my home is wherever you are!" 

suguru's cheeky smile fades and his eyes widen. he looks at you, mouth agape, and you're about to say something else before sticky coolness trickles down your wrist. 

"ack!" you hurry to wipe away the strawberry ice cream dripping down your skin and you completely miss the red that creeps up his neck and seeps into his ears. 

vi. ice bath

shoko's fingers are unbelievably soft. you're grateful that you were unconscious through most of her procedures on your battered body—you don't think you would've handled the pain too well. she's quiet as she works over the large wound that now covers almost half of your torso. the man with the scar on his lip had done quite the number on you, and you don't think you'll ever forget the searing ache of his blade slicing through your flesh. he had left you in a bloodied pile, isolated, and you hadn't seen what had happened to suguru after the man shot riko. you could only lay there, vision swimming as a bitter taste filled your mouth—a reminder of the life you failed to protect.

the pain had been the only thing you could focus on, until satoru was on his knees at your side and tightly gripping your shoulders. your hazy focus was drawn to his lips as he spewed curses and insults at you. 

"why didn't you run away, you little shit," he had shouted, a feral look in his eyes. there was something different about him—a change in his very being that you could see even in the throes of death. "shoko's coming, do you hear me? for fuck's sake, keep your eyes open, hotshot!" 

you swore you saw his eyes shine behind that look of uncontrolled anger. he had been talking a mile a minute and your focus had waned until you could only see his lips move, no sound reaching your ears.

you've never thought satoru looked more godly than he did at that moment.

suguru eventually found his way into your field of vision—knelt at satoru's side. his large hand had squeezed your limp fingers in a death grip. he was sweating, and his eyes were darting back and forth between your pale face and bloodied torso, something akin to guilt swimming in them. you wished that you had the strength in you to squeeze his hand in return. the last thing you remember seeing is his dark hair falling in front of his face as he turned to shout at whoever was approaching.

now you're awake. disoriented and bleary, but awake, and all you can look at is the way shoko's bangs fall over her furrowed brows. she's taken care of the bleeding, and now all that's left is a dull throbbing, reminding you of how close you had toed the line with death. you don't know this yet, but the scar will remain for the rest of your life, and that dull throbbing will be a permanent reminder of your narrow escape. 

shoko hasn't said a word since she noticed your eyelids flutter open. you want to ask her so many things. important things that cannot wait: 

where's satoru? how about suguru? i saw them both. satoru's alive, right? and suguru, too? the man—with the scar. where did he go? he said that satoru—riko….where is riko? and—and kuroi…i—i..couldn't save riko. when did you get here, shoko? and why am i the only one who's being taken care of by you? 

you want to ask her. but she's making a very odd expression as her hands ghost over your body. you've never seen it before, this odd quirking of her lips. her teeth sink into the bottom one, and she chews and bites and nibbles like it's some kind of nervous tell. 

"shoko?" 

it's all you can manage to say—all you dare. your voice is dry, shaky, and sounds almost foreign to your ears. you're going to ask more, at least one of those thousand questions you had asked in your head earlier, but you don't get to because she speaks before you. 

"shut up," she spits, and the wobble in her voice has you pinching your lips shut and feeling closer to death than you did before. 

vii. acid rain

the sound of clapping is deafening. you don't think you've ever heard a sound so horrid in your life before, and you feel as though your ears are bleeding heavily. you can faintly make out the conversation between satoru and suguru, your ears struggling to pick out the tones of their voices. 

"no…" you hear suguru say quietly. "it doesn't matter if I'm fine…"

you can feel satoru's eyes roam over your motionless body, watching the way you gaze out into the crowd impassively. 

"let's get out of here, guys."

your feet carry you numbly, and you aren't aware of anything except the way riko's arm is swinging in front of you lifelessly. there are no mirrors around—no way of catching the track of tears cutting over your cheeks. the places where the salt touches burn like acid. you say nothing. 

satoru's gaze feels intrusive. he doesn't need to ask you anything—he just knows. it's like your body is radiating the emotions tumbling around in your gut. 

you're awfully sensitive for a jujutsu sorcerer, you know that?

"do you want to…kill them all?" 

the question stuns you, and for the first time, you can shake yourself out of your daze to look at satoru directly. blood is smeared over the left side of his face, cerulean eyes dimmed, as though something had pulled the shine out of them. red seeps into the fine hairs of his restless eyebrows. 

"right now, i probably wouldn't even feel anything," he continues, staring at you listlessly.

you think satoru might be feeling just as numb as you are. you don't know what happened to him yet. the last you had heard, gojo satoru had been killed by the man with the scar. he had boasted about it to you before he attempted to kill you too. but then satoru was at your side again, completely alive as he ran your battered body to shoko like a crazed man. 

you'll find out later who the man with the scar on his lip was, and what kind of legacy he had left behind. but for right now, all you see is a teenager with the weight of the world on his shoulders, and you know your answer.

satoru could help the pain go away; he'd be able to make the clapping stop—maybe then your ears wouldn't bleed anymore. but you couldn't ask that of him. 

"forget it. it's pointless," suguru mutters, and you're glad he's on the same page as you. not because any of these people deserve pity, but because satoru deserves a break—one less burden for him to carry. 

you hear suguru say more, but you can't focus. you continue to listen to the sound of the clapping, and once again lose yourself as you stare at riko's bloodied fingertips. 

"pointless, huh?" satoru mumbles in response to suguru's answer. "does there need to be a reason?" 

"of course. it's important," suguru's voice doesn't carry the same pleasant tone it always does. instead, it sounds strained, and tired beyond belief. unsure. "especially as jujutsu sorcerers." 

satoru doesn't respond, but you know that he's measuring the weight of his friend's words. that's how it was with the two of them. they both balance each other out—their moral compasses influenced by one another. but then you feel satoru look up from riko's body and turn to you. suguru follows suit, and before you can wonder why, it hits you: satoru had asked you both. 

you suck a deep breath in, feeling unusually breathless. the flesh of your stomach tingles with a painful reminder of what might've been, and you make up your mind. 

"killing them won't change anything," you say, breaking your silence. the tears on your cheeks have dried, but they leave a rigid trail in their wake—a trail that still stings. "let's just leave it at that." 

viii. fever dreams

satoru lies next to you. 

a few nights have passed since riko's death, and you've chosen to stay holed up in your room. you're not sure why—death has always played a big role in your life. you don't understand why it's different this time. 

tonight is different as well. while you've maintained a distance from everyone since that day, save for classes and passing by people on school grounds, today you've decided to let someone in. satoru's the lucky one, mostly because he would've pestered you until you opened your door for him anyway. 

it's strange though. he had knocked over and over, and when you finally opened up with a snappy jab at his annoying personality, he had brushed straight past you and laid across your bed. he hadn't said a word since then, and you've found yourself lying next to him in silence for quite a while. 

his hand stretches out in the darkness and you can feel his fingertips brush over the skin of your arm. it's delicate, like he's testing his limits, but you understand. it's just to ground himself—to know that you're still here, with him. to be sure that you're still alive.

you think the scar that goes down your body bothers him a lot more than it bothers you. 

"'m here," you mumble sleepily. your fingers reach up to bump against his knuckles, and you hear him inhale deeply. his voice is throaty when he replies. 

"i know." 

ix. doubt

satoru learns that you've never been kissed before and he teases you for it.

not in a mean way, but in a way that has your cheeks heating and your eyes avoiding his. suddenly it feels like the gap between ages 16 and 17 is huge. he's barely even a year older than you and you're in the same year, but it feels as though he knows so much more about the world than you do. you want to ask suguru if it's bad that you've never had a kiss, but you don't. suguru rarely talks these days. sometimes he'll have conversations with you but won't look in your eyes when he speaks. 

"hey listen, hotshot. if you don't get a kiss by…" satoru hums, an eager smile on his face as he swings an arm around your shoulders and contemplates his words. "…let's say 27, then i'll give one to you!" 

there's an odd note of glee in his voice. 

"shut up, toru," you groan, heat flooding your cheeks. "quit joking around." 

he laughs loudly, pulling your cheek teasingly. "aw, i'm just playing. it's not a bad thing i promise!" 

your shoulders relax slightly as the snowy-haired sorcerer continues to speak. 

"i just thought that you would've kissed someone by now," he shrugs. "wasn't there that one guy you went on a few dates with? the one you met when we went to yokohama?" 

there's an almost sour expression on his face as he speaks, but you're too frustrated to care. "just because i went on a couple of dates with him doesn't mean i kissed him!"

a broad teasing smile appears on satoru's face. "is that so?" 

"ugh, i'm only 16!" you hiss, shoving him away from you. "besides i'm saving it for someone special!"

"good," you hear suguru speak up, and you turn to look at him. his fingers are interlocked, elbows resting on his knees, and he's staring down at his hands like they hold the answers to some deep questions he has. "it is something irreplaceable after all." 

x. shadow

satoru's grin is proud as he stands before the three of you, his loose shirt billowing in the summer breeze.

you stare at him, heart thumping as shoko lets out a confused gasp. "huh? what the hell was that?"

"did it automatically choose the target for your technique?" suguru asks.

"yep!" satoru stresses the word, spinning the pencil suguru had thrown as he explains. "though i am the target. i've pretty much automated what i used to have to do manually."

your head is spinning.

"now i can tell an object's danger levels based the strength of its cursed energy, its speed, mass, velocity, shape—whatever. i want to be able to discern poisons too but that's pretty hard right now." satoru's voice is even when he explains, though you can make out the hints of pride that permeate his tones. you think his voice has gotten a little deeper too. "basically this is gonna allow me to keep my limitless technique active all the time!"

"that's gonna fry your brain!" shoko interjects, shaking her hair out of her eyes.

"yeah but i can do it while i continuously generate energy on my own. that way my brain stays fresh."

you can't help but let out an amused scoff. "what brain?"

satoru chucks the eraser at you, and you laugh as it bounces off your shoulder harmlessly.

"i've been working on shortening my hand signals so i can activate red and blue simultaneously." he continues, lips twitching upward as he gives you an exaggerated glare. "after this the only things i need to work on are domain expansion and long-distance teleportation. which i should be able to do if we set up some training courses here at school."

you think if someone examined you closely, they would see the stars in your eyes when you look at satoru.

"shoko~" he calls out, grinning eagerly. "think you could get me some lab rats?"

shoko groans as satoru bounds over to pester her more emphatically. you watch him, thinking you've never seen a person quite so magnificent.

god personified into a 17-year-old body. and yet it is a body that stays so close to you—well within your reach. maybe there's nothing so godly about that at all.

"don't you get tired of getting stronger and stronger, jeez?" you complain, crossing your arms as you raise a brow at him. satoru wets his lips as he throws you a smug smile.

"don't worry hotshot, you'll catch up to me someday!" he gives you an exaggerated wink over the frames of his glasses, and you shake your head somewhat fondly.

"no way! i never want to be at your level," you huff. "i'm very comfortable living in your shadow, thank you very much!"

a strange look passes over his face, almost puzzled, but the dip in his brows melts away as he approaches you. "well—" he slings an arm over your shoulder. "if my shadow makes you happy then you're more than welcome to stay there."

you don't have time to reply. pale lashes flutter at you—a backdrop of cerulean. you think white and blue may be the prettiest combination of colors in the world.

"suguru?" satoru's voice is casual, yet the amusement has dropped from it. his arm is heavy around your shoulders. "have you lost weight? are you okay?"

you look up, seeing tired eyes behind dark stands of hair. suguru's cheekbones are prominent, and you have the sudden urge to reach out and trace your fingers over them.

his lips twitch upward weakly. "it's just the summer heat…"

his lavender eyes drift to your face as he says it, and he tilts his head as he scrutinizes your worried expression. "…i'll be fine."

xi. hellfire

you hear suguru before you see him.

his breaths come loud as he pushes the door to the morgue open, the metal clanging heavily. his eyes bore into your back, taking in your clenched fists and raised shoulders that seem to tremble.

you wonder who told suguru you'd be here. maybe nanami, who was here not long ago, and had sent you a text that merely said: the mission went badly.

or maybe it was satoru, who had been chatting with you near the entrance of campus when he saw the myriad of emotions pass over your face as you read the text. he had probably called suguru as soon as you left.

it doesn't matter—you can't bring yourself to care.

you can only think about the way haibara had smiled at you before he left that morning.

now that smile is covered by a dirty white sheet, and you can't tear your eyes away from it. the taste of blood and vomit is heavy on your tongue.

suguru says your name quietly. you can't even look at him—you're scared that you'll cry if you do.

you don't ever want to cry in front of him. or satoru—so weak in front of those who are so strong.

"he asked if i wanted to go with them and i said no because i was lazy," you hiss, teeth clenched as you spit out the words with venom. "if i had just stopped thinking about myself for a second—"

your fingers dig into the flesh of your palms—deep, deep, deeper.

you hear suguru click his tongue, and his hands wrap around yours. he yanks your fingers apart fiercely, thumbs smoothing over the bloodied indents you've made in your own skin. you tear your eyes away from the body to finally look at him.

"don't—" his breath catches as his thumbs still over your flesh, eyes going hard as he takes in the blood.

he blurs in and out of focus. his head whips up when he hears you sniffle, and his lips slant ruefully. "you—"

"i'm fine," you interrupt, blinking pointedly and taking a deep breath. "it's fine—i mean it's not fine—but i c—"

"stop." suguru grabs your shoulders, giving you an even stare. you don't know how you didn't notice it before, but he looks thinner, older. there are dark circles under his eyes—poison seeping into his skin. "you need to rest."

you stare back at him silently, but you don't feel like you agree. something about this is making you feel restless, like there is so much you need to make up for. his grip tightens, before he's wordlessly leading you to take a seat—he finds his place next to you.

"satoru took over the mission." he stares at the lifeless body on the table as he speaks. you lower your gaze.

"and nanami?" your throat feels like it's closing. suguru inhales deeply.

"he went back to the dorms."

"okay."

you try to figure out if there is any meaning in having this conversation. despite everything, weren't you expected to wake up tomorrow morning and head out on a mission once more? and when you return, you're sure that there'll be another faceless body taking haibara's place.

the cycle continues—clockwork. it scares you, just how replaceable you are.

haibara, nanami, you, another, nameless—interchangeable.

not like satoru. not like suguru. not like the strong.

you lean your head against suguru's shoulder, fingering the hem of your uniform skirt. the fabric is cool to the touch—it seems darker, heavier. heat radiates from the body next to you, and there's something about him that's making your stomach churn with nerves. "suguru?"

his voice sounds far away. "hm?"

"are you okay?"

he stiffens and you suddenly fear you've said too much—nosy, intruding, out of place. you stumble. "it's just, we haven't talked much lately."

"i'm fine," he answers, and you can hear a smile in his voice—whether it's real or fake you can't tell. "just a little tired."

you know there is truth to this. but it scares you, how this tiredness of his has lingered for months. you don't know how to tell him that.

"okay…" your voice is barely a whisper, heavy with unspoken words that you don't know how to formulate. somehow you find that silence has always been your only option.

but like usual, silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable.

haibara's smile burns behind your eyelids.

"it should be a relatively simple mission. if you're not doing anything today senpai, would you like to come with us?"

his voice tickles your ears.

"that's alright! i'll get going then! oh right, today's mission is a little farther than usual, so we'll probably be back late! what would you like me to bring back for you?" 

hypoxia crushes your lungs, your blood burns. selfish selfish selfish. you've only ever cared about yourself.

suguru's arm curls around your shoulder before you even realize you're crying. his palm is warm as it smooths over your hair, and all you can worry about tainting him with your ridiculous tears.

you don't ever want to burden him—just want to quietly live in his shadow.

"i don't—" you internally cringe at the throaty rasp of your voice, swiping a hand at your nose. "i shouldn't be so sensitive about—"

"it's not your fault." he quietly hushes you, grip tightening imperceptibly. through your tears you can see him adam's apple bob, and for some reason that makes you feel worse. you're too scared to look at his expression, even though his voice is resolute. "none of this is our fault."

something has changed in the way he speaks now. something has settled, a confirmation of some idea that has been brewing for a long time now.

you don't say another word, but somehow he manages to sear himself into your very being. he's warm, and fuzzy, and he smells like sandalwood and incense. 

you don't know how long suguru let's you pathetically sob into his shoulder.

but you think you're embarrassed that he has taken pity on a wounded animal's cries.

xii. split

he looks different, but also the same. you've seen him wear that sweater before. it's plain black, no patterns, and you know that there's a loose string on the inside of the left sleeve that he was always too lazy to cut. you've always liked that sweater—always liked the way he looked in it. 

you liked it so much that you've even stolen it a few times yourself. 

but now it looks different. older and dirtier—as though soiled by some unknown curse. 

that's what everything came down to, right? curses. 

suguru stands in front of you, almost no trace of emotion on his handsome face, and his expression makes you want to turn and run. you miss the calm serenity that normally graced his features, wishing that you had some kind of cursed technique that could turn back time. but you aren't blessed like that—you wonder what sin you might've committed in a past life that made you so unlucky in this one. 

"you look confused," he comments. you reel at how casually he speaks to you, like it's just another afternoon sitting under that stupid tree. like he's leaning his head back against the trunk and watching you and satoru bicker with that fond look in his eye. 

"suguru," you speak, an odd strain in your voice. you struggle to comprehend this odd turn of events. you've had time to understand that he's now a different person than the one you once knew. you know that he's responsible for killing 112 innocents, including his own parents. you know that he's now an enemy to jujutsu society and you know that you should kill him right at this moment.

but he looks so much like suguru, like your suguru, that you can only manage to stand there, frozen in place. his eyes drift over your body, taking in your pajamas, the bath towel in your hands, and the small drops that trickle from your hair, and you can see the familiarity settle in his expression. 

"why are you here?" you choke out. you feel an overwhelming sense of danger in your gut, knowing that your family is just a few rooms over from where he stands now. 

"at your family home, you mean?" he asks casually. a small, almost amused smirk appears on his face. "you said i was always welcome." 

you did say that. sometime last year or the year before, when you had invited satoru, suguru, and shoko over to visit during one of your quick holidays. suguru had sat across from you at your dinner table. he complimented the food and your father smiled one of his rare smiles. you had chewed quietly to hide your grin.

you don't know what to say to him now. 

"everything they said about you," you whisper, taking a step toward him. he remains rooted in place, but his eyes follow your movements. they shift when he catches your fingers gripping your towel tighter. "is it true?" 

"do you think it is?" he asks, and you gulp. it feels like he's baiting you into some kind of trap. 

"i don't want to believe that it is," you answer, voice shaking. "that you would ever do something so…"

the sentence hangs in the air, and he tilts his head imperceptibly. something in his eyes changes as he focuses on the drops falling over your shoulders. 

"well i'm sorry to squash your hope," he raises his arms in a shrug. "but everything you heard is completely true." 

your head aches, but you're not surprised by his confirmation. "why would you…?"

suguru hums, a dark look falling over his face. "do you remember the conversation we had after haibara's funeral? do you remember what i told you when he died?" 

anger flares in your gut at the mention of haibara, and the bath towel crumples in your hold. "don't say his name," you hiss through gritted teeth. "don't act like he's the reason—just…don't bring him into this. please." 

suguru licks his lips, eyes going soft before he tries again. 

"everything used to make sense back then," he sighs. "back when the strong existed to protect the weak. but it's not true." 

"suguru—" 

"the reason why we suffer is because of them," he interjects evenly, though frustration is clearly evident in the curve of his brows and the volume of his voice. "we clean up their messes. they create problems and we die for it." 

you're stunned into silence, at the way he's raising his voice at you, at the way he's speaking so firmly about this horrible topic, at everything. he seems to realize the effect of his speech, and he quells his anger to speak quieter. "that's why i'm doing this. i'm going to create a world without non-sorcerers, so that sorcerers like you and i can live peacefully." 

a lump forms in your throat because god, he's right. he's so right. your life would be a thousand times better without curses. non-sorcerers were the reason curses existed. but the way he's going about this…

"suguru," your voice shakes, but you press on. "i get it. i really do—" 

"i know you do," he interrupts. "you always have. even back then…" 

he takes a step closer to you, reaching out to finger the towel in your hands. "but you don't agree with the way i'm doing it, right?" 

you bite your lip, and he smiles at the sadness in your expression. "you're so easy to read, hotshot." 

you ignore the way the nickname stings. "i just—how could you kill innocent people like that? your own parents, suguru."

he looks away from you, steely resolve in his eyes. "if i made exceptions for my parents, that would kinda make me a hypocrite, wouldn't it?"  

you don't know what to say to that. he doesn't seem to have anything else to add either. 

he looks around your old bedroom, eyes sparkling as they catch a picture of the four of you from your first year. satoru's arm is slung around shoko. the dark-haired female has her elbow resting on your shoulder, her tongue sticking out playfully. you're clinging to suguru's arm, and satoru's free hand is squishing your cheeks together. the four of you are laughing. 

nobody has laughed in a while now. 

you tear your gaze away from the picture frame to look at him. he's so unbelievably close, and he's gazing down at you with this foreign look in his eyes, the picture forgotten behind him. 

he slips his fingers into your hair. his palm is large enough that it can brush the side of your face, and you wonder why your body doesn't flinch away from those bloodstained hands.

"it's okay," he mumbles, a faraway look in his eyes. they remain trained on your hair, but it feels like he's looking straight through you. like you're nothing more than a ghost he wants to erase. he's so close—you can count his dark lashes as they brush against his cheeks. "it's difficult. i don't expect you to understand." 

his words incite a sudden flare of anger in your gut. it burns something fierce, and in that moment you hate him. 

"no, i don't," you reply indignantly. he pauses, now really looking at you, and his brows quirk upward in what seems to be surprise, because—well, he's never seen you make such an expression at him before. "you never tried to help me understand. you just left." 

a strained silence follows. his fingers twitch against your cheek.

"this doesn't concern you," he says finally. "i don't need you to understand my actions." 

you recoil, as though he's physically hurt you, and your expression falls so hard that it almost makes him regret saying it. almost. 

"if it doesn't concern me, then why are you here?" you ask again, and you see suguru's shoulders drop. "you know that i have orders to kill you. i might not be able to because you've always been stronger than me. but you know that i'll…" 

go down fighting you, is what you want to say, but the words leave a nasty taste in your mouth. but suguru seems to know what you're implying because a wry smile appears on his lips. his fingers twirl a strand of your wet hair. 

"i'm here to say goodbye," he says finally. another tense silence fills the space between you both, and suguru can see the way your fingers shake between the folds of your towel. 

"you're a little bit late for that, aren't you?" you choke out, a strange tilt to your voice as you break eye contact with him. "you left school weeks ago, and you didn't say a word to me then." 

"better late than never, right?" 

the softness in his tone makes you turn to look at him again, and you desperately want to ingrain the features of his face into your head. the gentle slope of his eyes and sweetness of his smile. he almost looks like the suguru you once knew, and you suddenly have the urge to mourn his death. 

his face becomes blurry, the edges becoming less pronounced, and you can see the way his expression falls. 

"i didn't come all the way here to make you cry." his hand drops from your face and he takes a step back. your fingers hurry to wipe at your waterline, and you shake your head. 

"'m not crying." 

suguru smiles ruefully, and his eyes suddenly look devoid of life. he takes another step back—your heart plummets.

he says your name once, quietly, and it hangs in the air as you wait for him to say more. 

he doesn't. 

"you know that I'm not supposed to let you leave alive, right?" you mumble, fingers toying with the towel in your hand. "but i can't—i mean—"

"hm," he chuckles. "still as sensitive as ever, huh? s'okay…" 

he moves toward you again and his hand gently cups the back of your neck. "i think it's your best quality. makes you better than most people in our world."

he presses his lips to your forehead tenderly, and you feel your eyes widen behind your tears. 

you probably could've stopped him, because you're aware that he's now suddenly behind you, and that he's raising his hand. you can stop him, but a part of you thinks that if it's death at suguru's hands, maybe it's not such a bad way to go. 

you accept your fate then and there. 

you'll find out later that suguru never had the intention to kill you then. perhaps he was waiting for a more opportune time, waiting for there to be a meaning behind it. you're not sure. but when you wake up tucked in your bed cozily, you'll feel the remnants of him lingering around you.

he was warm, and fuzzy, and he smelled like sandalwood and incense.

xiii. sanctify

satoru's at your door again. 

you've memorized his knock patterns. he always knocks three times, then leaves a pause, then twice more. for someone so erratic, he can be quite predictable. 

"what's up, satoru?" you call out, not looking up from your busy hands. there are a couple of empty cardboard boxes open on your bed, and you've been placing things into them all morning. things that should've been put away a long time ago. you pause on one of your old test papers, and in suguru's dark, blocky handwriting you read: 

YOU GOTTA STUDY MORE DUMBASS.

underneath it, satoru had scrawled: 

hotshot failing class now huh? :P

and shoko had added: 

both of you stfu you're failing too 

you had drawn a heart next to her name. 

"whatcha doin'?" a familiar voice chirps. "spring cleaning?"

satoru stands directly behind you, peering over your shoulder. you can practically feel his aura shift when he notices the items you're putting away. 

"cleaning of some sort," you sigh, before turning to look over your shoulder. "i've been…putting it off." 

he doesn't move—just continues to stare down at the paper in your hands. you think maybe you shouldn't have let him in. sometimes you forget that satoru might have his own sensitivities—you've always viewed him as the strongest.

a few strands of his hair tickle your cheek, and you scrunch your nose in response. he then turns to you, eyes blinding as he studies you over the frames of his shades. 

"want help?" 

"please." you don't intend to sound so needy, but the way you whisper the word has him immediately grabbing your wrist and sitting you down next to him on the bed. 

"how are we sorting this stuff?" he asks, his voice oddly calm. he hasn't let go of your arm yet, and some quiet part of you is grateful. 

"i was putting our old school stuff in that box. books, papers…" you answer softly, and satoru nods in understanding. "and in the other box…" 

you inhale deeply through your nose. satoru waits, strangely patient. you're not sure if you're imagining it, but you think he squeezes your wrist. 

"…are all of suguru's things." 

there's a moment of silence—a quick mourning for what is no longer there. 

"it's stupid stuff that he left behind, you know?" you chuckle, even though nothing is funny. "some old shirts from when you two would sleep over, his old textbooks, a few pictures from our holidays—shit like that." 

satoru hums. he's not looking at you—instead he's staring at the box, a frown on his face. 

"i guess he didn't really need those things for where he was going. or for wherever he is now," you mumble. 

"guess not." 

you're not sure what's going through his head. satoru's reaction to suguru leaving had been chaotic at best. it was so hard to tell how he felt about it. you knew he was angry, confused, betrayed. but he never showed things like that. you think it might have to do with being the strongest. you're not sure though—you never were strong like him.

you wish there was a way to tell him that he could share his feelings with you, but you can't think of a way that won't be awkward. 

a ticklish sensation crawls up your wrist and you look down to watch satoru's first two fingers tap against the inside of your palm. his thumb brushes against yours as he lets out a heavy exhale. 

"let's get started then, hotshot." 

he looks down at you as he says the words, and you think you might cry. but you want to be strong, like him, so you offer him a smile. he gives you one in return. you realize there isn't that much warmth in it, not like it used to have—you're sure that yours isn't that warm either. 

but it's enough for the two of you. 

"you look tired, toru," you chuckle wryly, reaching up to brush a few strands of hair from his face. his eyes flutter at the touch, and you honestly think this might be the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. 

"so do you." 

"i am," you admit honestly. 

"'s okay," he mumbles. his fingers tap against your palm once more. "'m here." 

"i know," you answer. you always are.

nothing more is said as satoru stands up. he makes his way over to your desk and pulls one of suguru's old sweaters from your chair. you watch him fold it neatly, smoothing out the creases with care, before placing it into the box—you smile once more. 

you think the scent of sandalwood tickles your nose, but it's gone in an instant.  

both of you work in relative silence, sorting through the things in your room quickly. you're surprised at how bare it looks as you're nearing the end, as though there's nothing more to your life than old high school recollections. 

you finish putting the last few polaroids into the box when satoru speaks up. 

"hey." 

you look up and find him staring at you, so you turn to face him completely, giving him your full attention. 

"zenin toji—" the name sends a painful tingle up your body. "—left something behind." 

you frown. "what are you talking about?" 

"a kid. he's got a kid. and i was gonna go meet him today," satoru shrugs. you try to read his emotions, but as usual, he's giving you nothing. "the old man said something about the zenin clan buying up his kid before i killed him. i was gonna go see if there's something i could do about that." 

you sigh before raising a brow, an amused lilt to your voice. "and why have you kept this a secret?" 

satoru's trademark smirk appears, and he walks over to sling an arm around your shoulders. "who knows?" he quips nonchalantly. "guess i was waiting until we were bored. we need something to do now, don't we?" 

you glance at the packed boxes on your bed, and then look around your empty room. everything is always changing, but satoru is constant. 

"i guess so," you grin. his eyes shine, and for a second you see a familiar teenager at the beach, and then a familiar teenager under an old tree. you think you hear waves, and the crinkling of a bag of chips. 

"good," he chirps, walking you to the door, the arm around your shoulder secure. "his name's megumi, and we're gonna make sure he gets strong."

xiv. idyll

it takes you a little over four months to get used to megumi's eyes. they aren't unsettling or invading, like a certain snowy haired sorcerer, but they do give you chills when you first notice them. chills and a fleeting feeling of metal slicing up and down through your flesh. you just have to steady your breathing and remind yourself that the son is not the father.

tsumiki is an angel. you didn't think that kids that age could be so emotionally competent, but she's a pleasant surprise. she had been awfully protective over megumi, fidgeting with a firm hand on his shoulder as you and satoru invaded their space and upturned their lives. even after they had settled into the humble apartment satoru had purchased, tsumiki was still so overly cautious. it was obvious she still didn't trust either of you, but you thought it was admirable of her, and you relay this thought to satoru one day.

"think they hate us?" he asks, squishing his cheeks between his lithe fingers as he eyes the different milk cartons over the rims of his glasses.

"i'm pretty sure they just don't trust us that much," you reply, placing a few packs of instant ramen into the cart. "can you blame them? we're just random strangers who came up and basically kidnapped them."

"i'd like to say adopted!" he points out with a grin, before he sighs. "but we've already proved we're just doing this to help them. but they still barely talk at all."

"they're just being careful. megumi's still a little young and he looks like he doesn't give a shit about most stuff anyway," you chuckle as you remember the expression on the first grader's face as he spoke to your cocky friend. "and tsumiki's being cautious for both of them."

"she doesn't need to be cautious of us!" satoru dramatically whines, pulling out a carton of whole milk and placing it into the cart. you shiver as the cold air hits your skin, eyeing the sorcerer with an exasperated smile. he shuts the door with a huff. "i've been such a good dad!"

you roll your eyes, shoving his arm as he starts pushing the cart down the aisle. "she definitely should be cautious of you, you creep."

satoru looks down over his shoulder, appalled, though his eyes sparkle with mirth. "and why do you say that?"

"have you seen yourself? crazy 19 year old man that kidnaps kids," you mutter somewhat sarcastically, falling into step with him like it's normal. satoru grins at that—amused.

"i think it's pretty cool of her to be that responsible though," you continue, voice going softer as you think about them, and satoru hums in what you think might be agreement. you suddenly grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks and he turns to look at you.

"you think we should get another carton of milk?" you question, tilting your head at him. "megumi's been drinking it every day after he comes back from school and tsumiki said she wanted to try making milkshakes."

satoru blinks at you, eyes widening before an amused chuckle escapes his lips. you're about to ask what is so funny but he gestures back down the aisle. "go get some."

he waits for you as you go grab another carton, leaning against the cart easily. when you make it back and place the extra milk in the cart, satoru slings an arm around your shoulders. you raise a brow, but he just continues to push the cart with his free hand and says nothing.

so you don't say anything either.

the two of you continue shopping, trying to remember the things you've noticed the kids enjoying because you know they'll be too uncomfortable to outrightly request them. for every sweet snack satoru puts into the cart, you add something that can pass as somewhat healthy, and he hides a teasing grin behind his fist each time.

when you're almost done, satoru motions to the shelves of snacks, raising a brow at you. "what do you need, hotshot?"

you look up from where you're analyzing the contents of the cart. "hm? oh i don't wanna buy anything for myself. i'm good with the stuff i have back at the dorm."

"great," he shrugs with a subtle shake of his head. "except you're not buying anything this time, i am. so pick something."

"what?" you frown, walking over to him. "we're supposed to split groceries for the kids."

"we can split next time." satoru rolls his eyes at you, as though annoyed by your insistence. "i just got paid yesterday and i wanna waste money. pick something."

you groan. "but there really isn't anything i want. if you're gonna pay yourself then let's just go. i think this is good enough."

satoru looks unamused, his eyes boring into yours—bright, dominating, mesmerizing. "oh really? nothing you want?"

you stare at him in confusion as he walks over to the frozen section and opens the door. after a few seconds of rummaging, he pulls out a box. "not even this?"

your shoulders drop. he's holding a tub of strawberry ice cream.

he casually places it into the cart, eyes trained on your expression as he bends down. "it's your favorite, isn't it?"

your voice comes out throaty, and you wet your lips nervously—his eyes follow the movement at lightning speed. "how'd you know?"

satoru scoffs out a haughty chuckle, reaching up to knock a knuckle at your forehead—it's cold. "i know everything about you, hotshot."

he moves to grip at the cart's handle, standing close enough that you can feel the energy radiating off of him. the side of his hand touches yours, still cold. "now we can go."

he sticks by your side, pushing the cart towards the counters as he casually looks around the store. you briefly realize that his shadow doesn't cover you when you're at his side like this. the thought both scares you and pleases you in a way you didn't think was possible.

"thanks toru," you mumble before you can stop yourself. his gives you a sidelong glance—assessing.

his lips twitch. "it's just ice cream."

"no, it's a lot more than that." you're not really sure why you say it so tragically, and satoru inhales sharply. you notice that his knuckles have turned white as he grips the cart's handles. once again, his eyes dart rapidly over your face—between your eyes and then further down.

then he lets out a hushed laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "as long as you share with me, hotshot."

everything is always changing, but satoru is constant.

you can't help but smile. "always."

you two don't say much as you head to the counter, taking turns placing all the items on the belt. you quietly watch satoru dig into his wallet, feeling oddly content doing so. you think the stars in your eyes will never disappear.

the clerk eyes you both, and suppresses a fond grin. with your close proximity, shared cart, and satoru's easy going smile, you realize that she's probably misunderstanding, but you don't really know how to correct her. satoru says nothing—he just continues smiling, oddly pleased.

he smiles all the way to the car. you catch yourself doing the same in the rear view mirror.

xv. retribution

the first thing you notice when you kneel in front of suguru is that he's bleeding all over the place. you have the strongest urge to scramble and grip his fingers tightly, just as he had done for you so many years ago—but you don't dare. you're too scared that touching him will ruin you completely.

he says your name quietly, and yet it's the loudest thing in the universe to you—crashing over your ears until you've lost all sense of self.

and then he leans forward, his gaze heavy, and his hand comes up to tangle in your hair. his palm rests on the side of your face just like it did when he visited you at your family home. the last time you saw your geto suguru.

except this time he moves further—crosses a line. presses his lips to yours.

he tastes like blood. you don't pull away.

the feeling of his lips shocks you though, and you stay permanently frozen in place as you feel your eyes glaze over with something you can't put into words.

suguru kisses you slowly, deeply, like he's been waiting but wants to savor it. maybe you've been waiting too. you're not sure. you're so confused.

you don't even process the way his tongue slips past your lips, tasting almost eagerly like your mouth is some kind of conquest he's trying to claim.

it's intrusive, but not unwelcome. slow, but not gentle.

you whimper quietly, feeling acid sting down your cheek as he pulls away and his eyes flutter open. he takes in your expression, and a million emotions pass over his face.

a quiet chuckle. "that bad, huh?"

you shake yourself out of it and try to push away the flush creeping up your neck. "w-what?"

"you're crying," he announces, his furrowed eyebrows paired with a sweet smile that makes him look so unbelievably tragic. "the kiss was that bad?"

your face burns, and you raise a shaking hand up to your cheek—it's wet.

"it wasn't—i didn't—" you struggle. "i mean—"

he smiles ruefully. "i'm sorry. you were saving it for someone special, right?"

there's a charged silence that follows as you scour your brain for the conversation he's referencing. when you find it, your heart sinks.

"you've always been special to me, suguru." your voice comes out quiet, but he hears it all the same. his eyes widen fractionally and you can see a light pink dust his cheeks before he laughs. it's soft, hushed, and looks like it's painful, but he lets it run its course.

it reminds you of a laugh from so long ago, at a beach, with childish screams echoing against the sound of waves. you think you can feel strawberry ice cream dripping down your wrist.

his laughs die down and he's left smiling softly at you. his lavender eyes sparkle with mirth as he tilts his head. "i'm glad. that you were the one i gave a room to."

you can hear waves in your ears, crashing crashing drowning. sand is in your hands, in between your toes, in your eyes.

he coughs, and his palm shakes against your cheek. you wonder why he doesn't just let go already dammit suguru.

you inhale sharply, trying so hard to breathe because what is that stupid thing that's clogging your throat and preventing you from speaking? there's so much you have to say to him. so many questions. so many things left unsaid. your words are failing you.

but silence with suguru has never once been uncomfortable, right?

you raise a shaky hand to press against his where it lays against your neck. "do you regret it?"

he licks his lips, smiling faintly, as though he's enjoying the new taste of you on them. "no."

"why not?" you whisper. your body unconsciously shuffles closer to him, chasing his warmth because gods is he warm. he's always been so warm, even now, in the throes of death.

"my feelings are still the same. i still hate the monkeys for everything they've done, all the crap they cause." he shuts his eyes, smiling that serene smile. you wish he was leaning against a tree trunk. "i still have no resentment to those at jujutsu tech. and you, i still…"

he doesn't continue. you don't think you want him to. there's a flush crawling up his neck, the faint pink a stark contrast to the red of blood. it makes you nauseous.

another deep inhale, and his thumb slides over your jawbone, before brushing under your bottom lip. he stares at the flesh heavily, letting his finger press into it. his tongue swipes over his own lips, eyes darkening further.

and then something shifts in his face, and he smiles mirthlessly. his hand drops from your face—broken contact.

he doesn't tear his gaze away from you, committing your face to memory. it's almost like he wants to say something, but decides against it at the last minute as he slumps further into the wall behind him and shuts his eyes.

when he speaks again, you know that it is all over.

"you're late, satoru."

[on-leatheredwings]

Sleepover

Yandere! Damian Wayne x (Fem!) Reader

romantic > summary: During a sleepover, Damian makes his first foray into infatuation. > word count: 1605 > [ a/n: i just love writing from the yandere’s point of view! Damian is 19 or college-age here. honestly not much plot, just musings~ i will try to write from the Darling’s POV next time hehe.]

This must be love.

“Wow, Damian… I’ve never noticed but your nails are so pretty,” you compliment, satisfied with the boy’s upkeep. Damian feels his heart thrumming against his ribcage. You are holding his hand. 

Not for the first time either, but the thrill never fades. 

If this had occurred a year ago, before Damian learned of how casual (generous, even!) you were physical affection, he might have dumbly stated, “You’re holding my hand.” Instead, he simply thinks it, on loop, in one long string. 

You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand. You’re holding my hand.

Unbeknownst to all this, you simply paint his forefinger with a stripe of green so dark it looks black. 

“If we’re going to do this, it’ll be by my rules,” he had said. 

In reality, if you needled him any harder, he would’ve accepted pink nails with glitter on them. Who cares? There wasn’t anyone who dared to make fun of him at school. Not to mention, it’d be obvious to everyone that you painted them. You'd be marking him as yours, essentially. And at night… well, Robin wears gloves.

“Hn. How so?” Damian asks with feigned coolness. Mainly because he wants to hear you praise him. In your hushed, awed voice. When he dreams, you often sound like that. (And he quickly pushes that thought away.)

You look at him pointedly, grinning. Oh, he’s not so slick. You acquiesce to his whims anyway.

“Your cuticles are impeccable and your nails are finely trimmed… I’m impressed. Don’t you do martial arts, too? Crazy they aren’t more dinged up.”

Martial arts. That was supposed to explain his abnormal strength and fighting capability, the one time you saw him nearly break a man’s wrist for trying to pickpocket you. 

You accepted the excuse with only a little suspicion.

“It’s simple grooming.”

A catlike grin forms on your face. “Hm~ I don’t knowwww… Seems like you may be trying to catch the eye of a girl – you know, girls look at stuff like that.”

Damian frowns. 

He’s infatuated but not delusional. He’s aware this ‘sleepover’ is pretty platonic on your end. After nails, it’ll be skin care. Maybe you’ll even do your makeup and take goofy pictures with him. You’ll laugh and platonically huddle against him during a movie. You may doze off on his shoulder while he’ll be committing your every dewy, moisturized pore to memory. 

Because of Damian’s (self-admitted) social awkwardness with your peers, you think that gives you some sort of elder sibling-esque edge on him. You are the social butterfly, leading a naive, but well-meaning social pariah through the perils of young adult life. You don’t know you are so much more naive than he is, and he adores that.

Rather than addressing the question, he snorts. “When are you going to turn on the movie?”

You hum, completing his nail’s first coat. “Oh yeah, that’s right!” You grab the remote and press play. You continue painting, gingerly admiring his long, golden brown digits. Damian preens at the attention. 

As the movie plays, you pause often to look up and gape at the screen. It’s a horror flick, and boasts an abundance of cartoonish gore. While a bit more sensational than something he’d put on, he likes your dark taste. An annoying teenager gets their head hacked off with a chainsaw. You laugh and Damian feels his heart sing. 

There’s a chime that rings through Wayne Manor, and he has to bite back a groan.

“Pizza’s here!” you cheer. You begin to get up when Damian whips out his card in an instant. 

“I’ll pay.” To his delight, you gape in surprise, cheeks warming. 

“Oh… Thanks, Damian!” You never quite get used to him paying for things, but you at least know by now not to argue. You grab his credit card and – thank God – your fingers brush against each other. It sends the most pleasant trill down his spine. “Since you’re paying, I’ll go bring it! I won’t be long.”

A corner of his lips quirk. “I’ll be pleasantly surprised if it gets back to this room at all.” You stick out your tongue on the way out.

As soon as he hears your footsteps disappear down the hall – such clumsy, loud steps – Damian’s attention falls to the messenger bag you threw to the ground of his bedroom. He knows your diary is in there. (In his mind, he can hear you protest, It’s a journal!)

He’ll be quick. He flips open to a random page, and he already is laughing at your writing style. There’s little care for capitalizing letters and full of what you explained are “emoticons”, despite being handwritten. He flips to today’s entry, half-finished.

February 01. 

there’s a guy in class who’s pretty cute… one may even say HOT xP

Damian’s jaw tightens. He knows exactly who you’re talking about, and he won’t allow that neanderthal anywhere near you. At least, not again. Yesterday, you told him that your crush had smiled at you. Brushed fingers with you when passing papers. In the only class you have without Damian.

(Also, “your crush,” he scoffs. What a juvenile concept. You and Damian share something much deeper. His feelings for you are not so trivial.)

The semester is still young. Damian can pull any string to land himself in your anthropology class.

The rest of your entry for today (and the past days prior) isn’t anything notable except for when he’s mentioned. 

stressful day, but at least i have tonight with damian to cheer me up. he’s seriously the best …. i should tell him more often !!! (but it’d give him an even bigger head)

He doesn’t even attempt to stop the smile splitting his face. 

Damian’s keen hearing catches you striking up a conversation with Alfred in the kitchen. Despite your promise, he knows you will, indeed, take long. You love talking to everyone, even in passing. It’s an admirable quality, and one he envies.

He unlocks your phone and rifles through some messages of yours. He uses his own phone for documentation purposes. What else is there to do… He spies your jacket on his bed.

There is a shameful thought and Damian’s heart skips a beat. It is… frankly, it’s humiliating as a concept. Yet he’s enticed. It’s your jacket, after all. He brings it to his face delicately and inhales, almost shyly. Once he catches the familiar scent of your body wash, however, he allows himself to breathe it in. After being lost in it for a few seconds, he rips it away. 

Only to see his father standing in his doorframe. 

He knows what this looks like. Damian knows what this looks like. After years of working with the man, Damian can hear his thoughts as if they were his own, as they happen. 

Damian just smelled your clothes. Even if it was investigative in nature, he could’ve retrieved a sample some other way. Someone’s personal journal is open on the floor. A phone that he knows is not Damian’s is unlocked and displaying text messages. All these things are splayed out in a circle around him. It’s uncharacteristically messy of him, as well. Damian’s own phone is actively on his camera. Was he taking pictures? And most notable is the absence of you.

In summary? Damian must have some interest in you. And by this sloppy job, it’s quite emotionally charged. And at his age, it’s likely romantic.

Damian’s skin rises to what feels like a boiling heat. What is Father going to say? He can’t stop him – he can’t. Damian doesn’t even want to talk about it, let alone be reprimanded. A feral need to escape bubbles underneath his skin. Despite the panic, he channels years of League training and hardens himself. 

Bruce watches his son’s expression morph from dazed, to fearful, to steel, in real time. From Damian’s seat on the floor he offers his father only silent defiance. Bruce knows his son, his darker needs that stem from his cruel childhood. And perhaps he should’ve expected this to happen someday. Bruce exhales, eyes closing. When they reopen, his slate-grey eyes are firm and hard. 

“No one gets hurt.”

And by that, Bruce means no one dies. Because Bruce and Damian are Batman and Robin – they’re all in the business of hurting people. People who deserve it, yes, but it’s still hurt. Pain.

Damian feels immense relief. He wouldn’t have killed his father – he’s not that boy anymore. But a life without you seems similarly unbearable. Damian feels… shaken. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done. He also feels grateful, that it didn’t turn out any other way. 

His eyes drop to the jacket he holds in a fist.

“... Yes. Thank you, Father.” Bruce’s gaze lingers, but he leaves wordlessly.

This encounter reminds Damian of who he is. He is a detective, vigilante, assassin, and creature of stealth. He can’t be this careless, even if he knows you won’t notice. 

Damian returns your belongings to their place, exactly how you left it. Diary back in your bag, jacket to where you were lounging, your phone underneath a pillow, because you carelessly tossed it aside. You’ll inevitably begin to look for it and he’ll grin once he places it in your hand.

You finally return to his room, two pizza boxes of deluxe cheese (for him) and pepperoni (for you) in your arms. You laugh sheepishly. 

“Sorry for the wait, Dami.” His heart skitters at the nickname.

“It’s fine.” Your eyes glitter with excitement and optimism and purity. He finds it hard to look away, you raining down a gaze like that upon him.

“I was waiting for you.”

[stealingyourbones]

Danny is cold.

The numbness at his fingertips, nipping and just off from painful, had spread down to his forearms. Frostbite is inevitable—a sickly purplish blue that reached across each knuckle like night fading into day, unfeeling as they brush against blades of wet grass. Each digit trembles and shakes as if feeling tremors of an earthquake days in advance.

Each puff of air crystallizes the moment they leave his mouth before quickly melting away again, little clouds that, back when Danny could be a kid again, smiling ever-so brightly, he would have been amused by. Giddy even.

But now? Now it just solidifies the fact that he’s sick. Deathly ill from something outside any of their control.

Nothing is working thus far. The ghosts have noticed long since it first began, and are working alongside humans to bring back their resident nuisance in sake of continuing this little back-and-forth they’ve perfected throughout the years. Mom and Dad are suspicious, of course, but are willing to try anything.

Today, Danny sits in bed, shivering from head to toe underneath at least three layers of blanket.

Frostbite (the yeti) knocked before entering, holding a small bowl in hand. He appears older than he has ever looked, from stress no doubt, yet there is hope within those eyes.

“Little lord,” he began, and if Danny could groan he would. Every since the defeat of the late ghost king, he’s been called that by every yeti that’s crossed paths with him. “We have a new medicine for you to try. Can you sit up?”

Danny whimpered a little at the mere prospect of moving but goes to anyway. He slowly arose from his laid down position, rocking a little.

Frostbite brought the bowl to his lips and ever-so delicately tipped it, having what his prying gaze caught as bright green dust slide down his throat. And only pulled away when half of it was eaten.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel…” Danny had to take a moment to process the slowly regaining feeling of his arms. “Warm.”

Amazed, he turned toward the yeti. “What was that?”

Frostbite—who was beaming with relief—chuckled, far too emotion for any cryptic messaging within his next words. “Kryptonite. We’ve just now found it on Earth, from some place called Metropolis. It’s incredibly rare in the Ghost Zone, so finding it here is nothing short from a miracle.”

The Justice League doesn't know why there's a sudden influx of extra dimensional entities attacking various Superman villains and stealing their stashes of kryptonite, but there's no way this situation is going to end pleasantly. Frostbite instructed all of Phantom's rogues gallery to track down and collect kryptonite.