#Get your little red nose that honks!!

[new-austin]

*purposefully makes varric wear the stupidest armour for the bianca mission*

[vivwritescrappythings]

roadburn

simon “ghost” riley x gn!reader

@cielosafeplace wrote an idea on here about what Simon would do if you crashed on his motorcycle and that was enough to get me out of my writing slump. Truly doing the lord’s work.

cw: motorcycle accident, blood, mild gore, protective Simon, POV switch, gn! reader, no use of y/n, not very good.

word count: 1.8k

masterlist

—

Everything was ringing.

You didn’t really understand what was going on—one moment you were riding behind Simon on his motorcycle, and now you were sitting up on the traffic median. It was blurry around you, movement and cars and people looking like blocks of color in an abstract painting.

The breeze tousled your hair, crisp and clean in your nose. Your hair? You didn’t remember taking off your helmet. Shaking fingers made their way up to your head, passing through where the helmet would be to simply comb through hair. You pulled your fingers away, the swimming image of your hand in front of you showing the tips of your gloved fingers shining crimson. You didn’t quite notice that your gloves were shredded to bits, part of your palms visible and raw beneath.

It was enough to send a shock through you, your breath coming out so harshly that you actually let out a sound. It was swallowed by the rest of the noise going on around you, shouting and honking and cars driving by. The commotion surrounding you was far too loud, the quality of it like you were swimming underwater.

You stood on shaky legs, grabbing onto a street sign to pull yourself to standing as you fought vertigo. Everything was moving so slowly. You felt like you had to get to your feet, get off the traffic median.

Your vision was clearing. You could see a few people running around and chattering, their frantic gestures seeming all too slow to make sense. Your helmet was in the road, the buckle flapping open from where you must have ripped it off, there was a flat spot from where your head dragged across the rough pavement.

Simon’s motorcycle was on the curb, on its side and banged up in a few areas—he’d be cross to have to fix it.

Simon.

Where was he?

It wasn’t like Simon to not be glued to your side. Sometimes you joked that he was more guard dog than boyfriend, snarling and snapping his jaws at anyone that got too close for comfort. The fact that he wasn’t next to you right now made your blood run cold.

You rubbed your eyes on the back of your hand, blinking.

You heard him before you saw him. You’d never heard Simon scream like that, your name—your real name, not calling you “pet” like he normally did—ringing through the air like a thunderclap.

—

He couldn’t believe it. That fucking sod ran a red light, completely blew through it, and hit the bike hard enough to make him lose control.

He heard you scream, the sound of it muffled by the helmet covering your head. Simon’s heart was in his throat, hardly recognizing the pain as the bike dragged him across the road, his thigh trapped beneath the vehicle as his pants got shredded down to the skin. His jacket was destroyed, the leather hot where it scraped across the asphalt.

The driver was getting out of his truck, shouting his useless apologies as other good samaritans stopped to see what was going on.

It didn’t matter, none of it mattered as Simon shoved his bike off his leg like it was a toy and heard it crumple as he stood. The blood soaking into his pants was nothing—child’s play compared to the torture he’d experienced at work. Getting hung on a meat hook really makes any other form of pain look like a paper cut.

It was like he had tunnel vision, the panic of not being able to immediately spot you making him think the worst. You were a little thing compared to him, far too fragile for his comfort.

The people who had gotten out of their cars surrounded him in a swarm of too-loud voices and concerned gazes, trying to get him to sit down and wait for the ambulance. The driver got in his face, apologizing and claiming he didn’t see the two of you on the motorcycle. If Simon wasn’t busy worrying about you, he probably would’ve battered the idiot on the spot.

He simply brushed him aside, shouting your name in a bid of desperation. Despite all the near-death situations he’d lived through, the terror he felt at the pit of his stomach was more intense than anything he had ever experienced before.

The image of your mangled body on the asphalt filled his mind, imagination running wild. What if you’d been run over? Broke your damn neck?

His world was already falling apart as he took a few staggering steps.

Then he spotted you, all the way on the median and clutching a sign as you leaned against the metal pole. Your helmet was sitting on the ground nearby, cracked and part of the shell entirely scraped off. You must have taken it off in your shock.

Blood was running down your face, matting in your hair and following the contours of your features. Simon was running before he could think, mowing down any person that stupidly stood between the two of you. There was a sting of pain shooting up his leg with each step, but he hardly noticed.

You looked so dazed, your normally sharp gaze floating as you heard him shout your name. Fear and relief surged through Simon at once—you were bleeding, but you were standing and around and undeniably alive.

He wasn’t thinking enough to remember to be careful about crossing the last open lane of traffic, almost getting plowed through by a truck. A shout was barked at the driver as a big hand smacked the hood, Simon continuing his beeline to you. It was instinct at this point, like blinders had been fitted over his eyes to only see you.

His helmet skittered across the road where he threw it off, needing to see your face without the tint of the visor. Everything got exponentially louder without his helmet.

The tension was clear in your stance, shock making your spine ramrod straight and your hands clench at your sides. He approached carefully, tilting his head a little so he was closer to your height and his gloved hands outstretched. The spark of recognition in your gaze comforted him further, starting to placate the gnawing anxiety in his stomach.

Neither of you said anything as Simon gathered you up in his arms and held you close to his chest, a big hand cupping the back of your head. Your hands twisted in his shirt beneath the jacket, pulling him toward you as a shudder ran through you. He pressed his nose to the crown of your head and inhaled deeply.

He could care less about the chaos going on behind him, the sirens of an ambulance in the distance as insignificant to him as chirping birds.

Fingertips gently pressed into the side of your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. The blood was smeared across part of your face, but it looked like the bleeding was starting to slow. Your eyes were wide and a touch vacant as you looked up at him.

“You with me, pet?” Simon asked, his head crowding in close to yours as he tried to block out the rest of the world. He held his breath while waiting for your answer.

You nodded—albeit shakily as you looked him over. “Si, your leg.” Your voice was soft and wavering as you spoke. He watched your brows furrow with concern, lips parting.

“S’okay, don’t worry about me,” he said immediately, nudging your chin to look back up at his face. He didn’t even bother to look down at his leg. It didn’t hurt, the adrenaline fueling him enough to not feel it quite yet.

His thumbs smoothed over your face, his careful gaze focusing on the cut hidden in your hair as he took every detail of you in. Your jeans were ripped along your knees and up your thigh, your shirt a bit askew, your gloves torn. You had some road burn, some scrapes, hit your head pretty damn good, but you were standing and talking to him.

He could cry. Simon choked as he pulled you back into his chest, not wanting you to see how wet his dark eyes became. Fuck. There was a moment there that he thought he’d gotten you killed. The best thing in his sorry excuse for a life, dead in the road because he couldn’t protect you.

But you were here, you were in his arms and you were breathing. The panic receded, he took deep breaths as he looked up at the gloomy sky to try and get his head back on his shoulders.

The siren of the ambulance made his splitting headache worse, police cars following and the lights flashing in his eyes. It was only when they were parked near his destroyed motorcycle that he moved, keeping you clutched in the cage of his arms as he limped back across the street toward them.

The driver that hit you had the audacity to approach again, citing apologies and claims that he didn’t even see the motorcycle. Simon shoved him away, snarling like an animal. “Get the fuck away from us,” he hissed, voice low. “Got half the mind to kill you where you stand.”

You grabbed Simon’s wrist, grip soft. “Stop, Si,” you murmured, dragging him with you to the ambulance. There were already some people talking to the police that showed up, telling them what happened.

Simon made them tend to you first, worried you were concussed or had internal injuries. He fussed over you, staying close to you as the EMT shined a flashlight in your eyes and asked you soft-spoken questions. Price was already on his way to come grab the two of you, the fossil of a flip phone in his pocket still working unlike your smashed device.

He didn’t even know that there was a part of the meat of his calf that got burned and torn up from the bike landing on top of him until one of the medics started to force him onto a stretcher. He’d need stitches, something he could do himself if the ridiculous EMTs weren’t trying to corral him like a wild horse.

He would’ve fought it if you didn’t make him lay down, only soothed by the fact that Price showed up. You weren’t injured badly, thankfully, just some roadburn and a cut on your head that bled worse than it needed to.

Simon finally relaxed onto the stretcher after you kissed his scarred cheek, promising him that you were okay and you’d see him at the hospital. The adrenaline rushed out of him as soon as he was loaded up into the back, his dark eyes fluttering shut as he let out a soft groan.

He couldn’t believe he’d have to rebuild that fucking bike now.

[allurilove]

Yandere clown x you?

I hate clowns omhogmgkgmgkgk i’m like scared of them 😭😭

Yandere Clown x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

You’re at a carnival where you meet the hottest clown you have seen. A short drabble, and fucking in front of the funhouse mirror! Fem reader.

The only clown you have ever seen is the stereotypical white face, dramatic makeup, suspenders, and a huge red ball for a nose. They weren’t really your thing, and you were used to them waddling around with those big shoes, and honking their horns at you.

Since when did they have any sex appeal?

The moment they decided to take off their shirts, you understood why people were fawning over them. You came here to be scared—not wound up and aroused. He had fake blood splattered on their chest, their pants low enough that you see their v-line, and you see a tattoo that presumably continues even lower down his body. His face is painted white, red lipstick painted messily on his lips, and dark eyeliner making their eyes pop out. He carries a toy machete in one hand that looks unreasonably sharp.

He carried a small ice-cream cone in his other hand, and he noticed you eyeing it up and down. It was getting late, and all the little food stands were shutting down, and that treat in his hand was the only food you have seen in a while. You were quite hungry—borderline famished after screaming in haunted houses. He approached you, your mouth automatically just dropped open for him to feed you. The creamy vanilla melts around your tongue, and you can’t help but to lock eyes with him as you ate the ice cream. His lips part, his eyes becoming lidded as you were becoming a bit more risqué. It drips down to your chest, you pull back to see it follow the curve of your breast. He raised his brow, his tongue out as he bends down to lick it.

The moment his tongue was on your body— you became putty in his hands. He pulled you into the wonky mirrors exhibit, it’s a tiny tent with a bunch of mirrors that makes you look weird— and you watch as he bends you over, your reflection of your face is of a swirl. He pulled up your costume, his hand touching your ass before giving it a harsh slap. He pulled down your panties, just enough for him to align the head of his cock to your slit.

“Spread your legs a bit more for me…” He mumbled, his knee already pushing them more apart, and he pressed your face into the mirror. The clown slowly slid himself inside you, a slight hiss escaping his lips as you instinctively tensed around his cock. “Oh god…” He groaned, moving in and out of you.

He watched in marvel as you threw your hips back to meet his thrusts, a smirk on his face, “That’s right, fuck yourself on this dick. Show me how much you want it.”

“You feel amazing…” The clown wrapped your hair around his hand, he made you arch your back, and his cock hits into you so deliciously. Your eyes roll back, your thighs shaking and you try to avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. You look weird—obviously—it made your body squiggly. But he thought you looked good— sexy even.

He has a scary wide smile, his other hand repeatedly smacking your ass as his thrusts become harsher. “You wanna cum? Tell me you wanna cum then.”

[princessbrunette]

you wasn’t sure what to expect from your toxic ex boyfriend rafe when you finally caved and let him fuck you again. you told yourself it was a selfish act, that he was only getting what he wanted because you let him — but after sex was when you were the most vulnerable.

he’d been alluding to it for weeks, practically stalking you wherever you went to just stare you down and shove away any guy that spoke to you. you’re talking parties, the country club, even making an appearance at the restaurant bar alone when you were out to dinner with your family. rafe cameron had eyes everywhere, and those eyes were all set on making it impossible for you to move on.

you’d given in when he’d cornered you at the country club when you were a glass of wine down, surely knowing it was the best time to convince you. wine made you horny, too easy, and whilst you could deny all you wanted — the thing you needed the most was for your psycho ex boyfriend to have you on your back, cumming around his cock.

so you’d let him drive you back to tannyhill, let him lean over at the red stop light to put his tongue in your mouth, ringed fingers cupping and fondling your soaked cunt beneath your sundress until the light went green and cars were honking. let him walk you to his front door with a hand on your ass and his mouth at your ear telling you that you knew where home was, and that you knew no one could make you moan as pretty as he could. you let him bounce you on his dick until you were overstimulated and crying, teardrops splashing on his tanned abdomen as he threatens to cum inside you and trap you with him forever. it’s only the after math you didn’t feel too in control anymore, curled on your side as you catch your breath in fetal position.

he hadn’t made a move to scoop you up and cuddle you. honestly, he didn’t know if that was allowed. instead, stupidly he wakes you out of your sleepy haze with his voice.

“alright, up. c’mon kid.” he shuffles, sitting up against the headboard and your heart sinks. you don’t dare question, or argue and humiliate yourself — simply forcing yourself to sit up, disorientated and reaching for your dress.

“‘kay. sorry.” you whisper, and you despise the way your voice cracks, tears fat in your eyes as you work your arms through your dress to pull it on over your body. you shouldn’t have come here, all that work to move on destroyed within the space of a few hours just for him to kick you out when he got what he wanted.

“wh— hey, ‘fuck are you talkin’ about huh?” he scooches towards you, grabbing your hands to stop your movements. you gaze at him in upset confusion and he realises his mistake and softens just a tad. “i mean get up and go pee… okay? always make you pee after i fuck you i — i don’t know why you’re…” he shakes his head, trailing off as he watches you melt in relief, still equally embarrassed. “look at me.” he commands quietly and solemnly and you do so, a shameful gaze through your lashes.

he sighs out his nose, shuffling to a better spot to be able to cup your cheek with that same boyish but charming roughness he so often carried. “i’m not going to just kick you out, okay — i… i am proactively trying to show you that i’m not the bad guy here. shit, if it was up to me i’d never let you leave this house but uh… know you’re gonna come to your senses soon enough.” there’s a tinge of sadness in his tone that makes your heart twitch with sympathy, your brows knitting harder as you stare up at him, waiting for him to continue. “but… for now… m’tryna look after you… right? so… so go pee and then you get your ass back in here. wanna hold you n’shit.”

he gives your ass a little pat as you stand, busying himself with finding a pair of sweatpants to pull on, glancing over at you as you hobble shyly to the bathroom like you’d never been to his place before. he hated to admit it, but he was just as emotional and sensitive as you were at times.

when you’re out the room, he sniffs— talking to himself manically in a self deprecating whisper. “god — i suck. man up. she’s yours, alright — just - just gotta remind her.” he tells himself quietly through grit teeth as he pulls the grey material up his legs.

rafe was going to make you his again, and this time he would go to any length to keep you.

[wileys-russo]

maternal instinct (4) II a.russo

(1) (2) (3) maternal instinct (4) II a.russo

"thanks for the shirt big foot! i like red." bella beamed as alessia began to unbuckle her from the car seat with a smile, clad in a small arsenal jersey on top of the hoodie and sweats alessia had to fight her to put on underneath given the cooler weather.

"good. red is the best!" alessia winked, honking the five year olds nose and making her giggle before helping her out of the seat. "i can carry it! you have your bag already." bella held her arms out for her backpack as alessia assisted her to shrug it on, tugging her hood out from beneath it.

"i've never watched a football game! mummy doesn't like sports and my daddy prefers cricket which is so boring. is football boring? whats it like?" bella asked, bouncing excitedly on the heels of her feet as alessia popped the trunk and grabbed out her own bags.

"definitely not boring!" the blonde promised slinging her gymbag over her shoulder and pushing the trunk closed before holding her hand out for bella.

"so there's two teams-" alessia began to explain football, simplifying it as much as she could for the small girl tightly clinging onto her hand who hung off of her every word.

"-and then whatever team scores the most goals, wins." alessia finished her story right as she arrived inside, having taken the long route through from the back of the stadium to avoid anyone seeing bella, knowing how seriously you took her privacy.

"ohhh, and that will be you!" bella grinned as alessia chuckled. "i hope so. when i score i've been told i make airplane arms, like this-" alessia let go of her hand and straightened her arms out like a plane, bella collapsing into giggles at the sight.

"she does! air russo we call her." alessia looked up at the new voice, leah appearing from one of the physio rooms with laura in tow, the two of them with fresh strapping on their knees. "leah!" bella waved happily, pausing for a moment to look up at alessia.

"you can go say hi." alessia murmured with a nod, patting the girls back in encouragement as she skipped forward. "i'm isabella but everyone calls me bella!" she greeted laura who seemed a bit taken aback, looking between the five year old and alessia with a confused frown.

"would you like to come see the change rooms?" leah offered, addressing alessia more so than bella, the blonde quickly checking the time and nodding. you were due to meet them in around a half hour, before pitch inspection and before the crowds all really came rolling into meadow park.

"is she-" laura started as leah took bella's hand and continued on forward, alessia shaking her head with an amused smile. "no, she's my friends kid, i've been babysitting for the weekend." alessia explained as the austrian nodded in understanding, the pair falling into conversation as they followed where leah had gone.

not at all to alessia's surprise by the time she arrived to the change room bella was busy talking a few of the girls ears off who listened eagerly, the blonde wincing slightly as she realised bella was recounting the story of her head lice.

she'd of course already checked with you as many things ahead of time as she could think of, going as far as to type out a list of questions and sending them to you around one in the morning last night, getting a reply not long after eight this morning with some answers and that you were just leaving.

you understood bella would be around her team and her friends and had no issues with this, assuring alessia repeatedly that you trusted her and knew bella was in safe hands, still finding her nerves and uncertainty endearing as always.

which is how you found her a little while later, eyes canning the horizon nervously, bella chattering away as usual but you could see the blonde wasn't really listening.

then, she spotted you, relief flooding her features as her body visibly sagged a little and she squatted down, pointing you out to your daughter whose whole face brightened making you grin.

you were still a fair few metres away but bella cleared them in seconds flat, throwing herself at you as you caught her easily and spun her around like you did when she was much younger and smaller.

"i missed you so so so so so so so so so-" bella started as you threw your head back with a laugh. "babe breathe!" you tickled as she paused and inhaled deeply. "-so much!" she finished as you attacked her face with kisses, her giggling filling the air as you headed over toward alessia.

"hi." you greeted the footballer, eyes quickly raking up and down taking her in in her uniform, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"hi." the blonde echoed back with a slightly shy smile of her own, the pair of you hugging as well as you could with bella dangling off your hip who wound up joining in, looping an arm around either of your necks.

"mummy leah said i could inspect the pitch with her. can i?" bella asked, busting out her best puppy dog eyes which you always struggled to really say no to. "yeah you can go, but come right back here after so we can find our seats." you placed her down, watching as she raced over to a blonde stood a few feet away, tugging on her hand.

you caught the girls eye and she raised her hand in a wave which you returned. "thats leah, the pizza thief and gatecrasher from the other night. i think bella might even like her more than me!" alessia rolled her eyes playfully as your daughter headed onto the field with a couple of unfamiliar girls all in the same uniform as the blonde in front of you.

"so should i take her to dinner tonight instead?" you questioned with a smile, alessia's mouth widening into a small o. "not funny, seriously not funny." the taller girl warned as you shook your head, tugging her in for another hug now you didn't have a five year old hanging off you.

"thank you so much for looking after her less, seriously. it takes a lot for me to trust someone like that and you just proved me right to trust you." you mumbled, feeling her squeeze you a little tighter.

"thank you for trusting me." alessia mumbled back, hand rubbing circles on your back as you nearly melted into her. "and the head lice! god i am so sorry about the head lice." you winced as the pair of you pulled away causing the taller girl to laugh.

"hey no need to apologize, my hairs never been cleaner."

~

"-and then which ever team scores most, wins." bella finished recounting how football worked to you, after the game had finished with arsenal winning 3-1. "oh really? well thank you bell, i finally understand now!" you sighed hitting your palm against your forehead.

at alessia's request you were waiting for her to come find the pair of you, since she still had bella's booster seat you'd left your car back at your apartment and ubered to the game.

you'd been given a lanyard by the blonde earlier on, a family and friends pass that meant you were able to wait by the players lot, sending slightly nervous smiles to those who passed you clearly a little wary of who you were.

though it was obvious bella had made her splash with more than a few of the players coming to say bye as they made their way to the cars, not that it surprised you given bella was a chronic chatterbox, something she got from her father.

"hey bell." you sat down beside her on the railing you were hanging by waiting for alessia, the girl looking up from where she was pretending a stick was a magic wand, kicking rocks about and chanting at them.

"so you know how daddy and olivia live together." you started, referring to her fathers long term girlfriend, your daughter nodding. "you like olivia right? you guys are friends?" you continued as bella nodded yeah. "yeah and she's daddys special friend." bella chirped as you now nodded.

"well. what would you think if alessia was mummys special friend?" you asked a little nervously, looking at her as the girl seemed to pause and tick things over. "would she come live with us?" she asked with a small frown.

"no, she'd still live across the hall. but it means she would come over more, maybe sometimes she might have sleepovers, we could all go do fun stuff together the three of us." you explained gently as bella nodded slowly.

"like what?" "mm well like go to the movies, go for dinner, go to the park, go bowling. whatever we want! but it means she would be around a lot more, and if you don't want that i need you to tell me okay? i won't be upset." you promised sincerely, always ready to put your daughters needs above your own much as it might hurt.

"i like big foot. but if she's your special friend, does that mean i can't be friends with her anymore?" bella asked, standing and going back to poking at rocks with her stick. "not at all, the two of you still get to be friends, and spend even more time together. did you have a good time with her this weekend?" you asked, watching with a small chuckle as she waved her stick around with a yell and a dance.

"yeah really fun! we got to wear special hats, i flew a rocket, we made pizza and watched bluey, and she even gave my teddys a bath and taught them how to breathe underwater!" bella glanced at you with a face eating grin which you couldn't help but mirror.

"sounds very cool. so, you're okay if alessia and i are special friends?" you confirmed, bella nodding with a hum and swinging her stick around, hitting it into the railing and groaning as it snapped in half.

though as she picked up one half and hurried off to grab the other someone beat her to it. "woah mutant! you didn't tell me you knew magic?" alessia gasped holding the snapped stick in her hand.

"she calls me mutant, its my nickname like hers is big feet." bella explained to you over her shoulder as you pulled a face and nodded in understanding.

"bella have i ever told you how i got these big feet?" alessia quirked an eyebrow dramatically as you stood and grabbed your daughters bag.

"...from a spell that went horribly wrong!" you smiled as alessia lunged at the five year old who squealed and raced off, the blonde chasing after her as they both used their snapped sticks to cast pretend spells at one another.

"great, guess i'm going to dinner with my kid and my big kid." you chuckled to yourself, following after them to the car as they hid behind things trying to shoot one another with their newfound magic.

~

"i could have carried her less, you just played a full ninety minutes." you whispered quietly where the three of you stood together in the elevator headed on up to your floor.

"i told you its fine, and that i could have taken her and my bag." the blonde smiled nodding to her arsenal gym bag slung over your shoulder, both of you pausing for a moment as bella stirred but didn't move.

the two of you fell silent as you reached your floor, your keys plucked from your pocket as alessia very carefully carried bella inside once the door was unlocked, following after you to her bedroom once it was closed.

tugging down the covers with one hand alessia lowered the five year old into bed with the other, moving aside so you could tuck her in, flicking on the star lamp by the base of her bed.

you brushed bella's hair out of her face and chuckled at the way her mouth hung open as she slept soundly with a shake of your head, kissing her forehead and backing up, alessia stepping out of the way as you both hovered in the door frame for a moment.

"she's so perfect." you sighed with a soft smile, alessia mirroring it beside you. "yeah, must get that from her dad." you gave her a playful side eye and pushed her, very slowly pulling the door shut with the quietest of clicks.

"safe." you sighed after pausing by her door for a minute, no little footsteps or voice crying out your name meaning bella was indeed out like a light.

"you know for a tiny girl she packs away food, must be that ghastly tummy monster." alessia tutted as the pair of you returned to the living room.

"well you did a pretty good job working up her appetite with all those magic spells, one of them must have been for hunger!" you teased, grinning at the way the strikers cheeks blushed.

"don't apologize, it was cute. very cute." you cut her off before she could speak, arms winding around her neck as you looked up at the taller girl with a fond smile, pecking her lips a few times.

"you're really good with her less, and she really likes you. which is why-" you let her go with a small sigh. "i'm giving you once more chance to walk away. if all of this is too much for you, i would understand, and i'd never hold it against you." you promised sincerely taking a little step back.

"honestly?" alessia questioned as you nodded. "honestly."

"well honestly-" the footballer took a step forward clearing the gap you'd just made. "-i am absolutely crazy about both of you, and i'm in, all in. if you'll have me." the girl chewed her bottom lip, apprehension filling her features.

"yeah? "yeah. so..." the girls hands settled themselves on your hips as she paused to take a deep breath, bright blue eyes locked with yours.

"will you be my girlfriend?" "i'd be honoured."

~

"but what do you mean you've not seen man on fire?" alessia scoffed, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at you where she stood in the kitchen awaiting the popcorn to finish.

"exactly that. i've not seen it!" you laughed, having repeated yourself five times now much to the strikers horror each time. "well that simply won't do. we're watching it, its on prime!" the blonde nodded toward the tv.

"but what about anyone but you? babe we were supposed to have a cheesy rom com night!" you protested from the lounge, raising an eyebrow at her as she pulled the popcorn out, opening the bag and yanking her head back as hot air pillowed out.

"change of plans. you need a movie education my girl!" alessia tutted, pouring the popcorn into a bowl as you groaned. "if i knew you were such a film bro it might have changed my answer when you asked me out." you muttered, grabbing the remote none the less.

"hey! i'm not a film bro, i don't even know what that means!" the blonde gasped in offence, grabbing the snacks and moving back to the lounge. "wait! get me a hoodie." you held a hand up after she'd placed the food down and was about to flop herself down on top of you.

"get you a hoodie..." "...now?"

"mother mutant!" alessia rolled her eyes, flicking a piece of popcorn at you but heading off to fulfill your wishes none the less. with bella at her dads for the weekend it meant the two of you could spend some quality time together.

which meant you got your girlfriend to yourself for once without her teaming up with your own daughter against you, the two having become quite the inseparable pair and alessia loving nothing more than teasing you about it.

though as much as she might be a big kid at heart you really couldn't deny the way alessia had stepped up to help you with bella too.

she hadn't missed a single school event since the two of you started going out, a bright smiling face bella always found easily in the crowd when you were often needed backstage given you were a teacher yourself.

she came along to any doctors appointments knowing how nervous they made bella, distracting her with silly voices and made up games while you pretended not to notice the chocolates slipped from her pocket.

there was no good cop bad cop routine either.

at first the blonde did struggle a little to find where she sat with discipline, never doing anything without consulting you or checking in but with time and trust she grew into her own relationship with bella as more than just your special friend.

and her insticts grew too.

you were in alessia's apartment for dinner, pizza night a much loved and somewhat demanded routine every friday night now, and nothing made you melt more than watching how kind and patient alessia was with bella when they cooked together.

you were sat at the island plugging away at your yearly class reports, bopping your head along to the music alessia had floating around the apartment as her and bella prepped.

"mummy what do you want on your pizza!" you felt a tug on your hoodie and looked down, laughing as bella handed you a piece of paper with a bunch of ingredients listed with small tick boxes.

"her idea, i just helped." alessia winked seeing you send her a smile at the little menu. "here." bella handed you a pen as you booped her on the nose with it and ticked off a few things, placing both back into her eager hands.

"thank you!" the girl bowed making you laugh before scurrying off into the kitchen where alessia was waiting. you'd gone back to your laptop, assuming the blonde had everything under control.

"bella no!" was all you heard, looking up to see a blonde blur sprint across the room, scooping up your daughter out of the way as the knife block toppled and they all fell right where she'd been standing.

"i'm sorry! i just wanted to get the tray for you." bella's bottom lip began to wobble as alessia exhaled shakily and sat her up on the counter as you appeared and very carefully picked up the knives.

"hey hey hey no mutant don't cry. i'm sorry for yelling, you just scared me a little bit but i know you didn't mean to." alessia engulfed the girl into a hug, rubbing her back as tiny sniffles sounded and you met the blondes panicked gaze.

"its okay, she's okay. thank you!" you mouthed, nodding reassuringly as alessia sighed, still holding your daughter tightly as her own heart rate steadied itself, trying not to think of what might have happened if she wasn't paying attention.

bella had even signed up for her very first team sport, which of course just so happened to be football.

alessia drove her to and stayed at every single practice, making arrangements with her own team to leave training early every wednesday to do so, and arriving late on saturday mornings so she could be at as many of the games as she could.

though much to her hidden heartbreak bella was following down more of a defensive pathway rather than like the striker alessia had tried tirelessly to build her up to be.

then after around nine months of the two of you dating and not long after alessia had ended her lease and finally moved in, it happened.

you were at one of bella's games, alessia's taller form pressed tightly behind you, both of you wearing a multitude of layers and hugging tightly as the chilly winter frost nipped at your noses.

much to her dismay alessia had wrestled bella into an undershirt, though you could already see how bright red her nose was getting as you prayed she wouldn't get sick.

it had all happened too fast for anyone to really process, bella played in an all girls league but with their opposition short one of the girls brothers was filling in, a year younger but a head taller than all of them.

you knew deep down he hadn't meant to do it, likely only trying to copy one of his footballing idols he'd seen do the same thing every week on tv in the premier league, but still it happened.

bella was dribbling the ball down the right side as everyone else hovered right by her, you and alessia often quietly joking they were like a little pack of seagulls chasing a chip the way they hovered together in a tight little huddle.

but the boy had gone sliding in for the ball, only it was very poorly timed and he collected bella instead, sending her crashing down to the ground as a gasp echoed through the crowd.

your eyes widened and you felt alessia's arms clamp even tighter around you, her own sharp inhale of breath heard right by your ear.

then came the crying, and the yelling, and the same word repeated over and over.

"mama! mama! mama!" you'd gone into fight or flight mode ready to race onto the tiny pitch, but then it clicked, that wasn't you, you were mummy, it wasn't you she was calling for.

"go, less go!" you pulled away from your girlfriend who gave you a confused look. "she's not calling for me, she wants you. go!" you pushed her with a nod, alessia opening and closing her mouth like a stunned fish but stumbling over none the less.

now of course a part of you had been jealous, it was you bella was supposed to want when she was hurt, you who were supposed to comfort her, you were her mother.

but there was a larger part that just felt something much warmer, softer, tinglier. the feeling that now bella had two of you to look out for her, two of you she trusted to comfort her when upset and help bandage her up while hurt.

you were finally a family.

[lesone-shot]

Confessions

Tara Carpenter x Fem!reader

In which, Tara drags you to a party, and ends up confessing TW: mentions of alcohol, slight swearing ig

Tara: Hurry up

Y/N: give me a second

The door swung open, and you flinched, turning around to look at Tara. "Were you waiting outside my door?", She smiled sheepishly, shrugging innocently.

"You're stalling!" she argued, walking to stand next to you.

She grabbed the pirate hat on your dresser and stuck it onto your head with a grin. She had begged you to match with her, how could you say no? She reached out to fix your hair, then took your hand and dragged you out of the bathroom.

"Tara, I really don't want to go" you grumbled, gently tugging her arm.

"You promised! besides, it'll be fun."

The two of you stepped outside and began walking to Chad's car. As soon as he saw you, he honked his horn, sticking his head out the car door with a grin.

"Finally! Jesus, I almost left you two"

Tara opened the backseat door and climbed in. You took the seat next to her, your arms and legs pressed together. "Okay, let's get to this party!" Chad cheered as he pulled away from your apartment.

-----------------

The house was damp with sweat, and the smell of alcohol stung your nose. You pushed your way through the crowds of people dancing, a plastic cup held tightly in your hand.

Mindy called out your name when you entered the living room, and she waved you over. You grinned, stumbling over to her and sitting down in the empty seat next to her. She leaned forward to yell over the music.

"Hey, we were just talking about you! How are you feeling?"

You laughed, holding up the cup in your hand. "Im great!", she nodded, eyebrows raising as she grinned over at you.

"Where is Tara?" you shrugged, deflating a little. She had ditched you as soon as you had arrived, more interested in getting herself a drink. Mindy let out a soft chuckle, reaching over and patting your back.

--------------------

You got pulled up to dance at one point, by a girl in one of your classes. She was pretty, with red hair, blue eyes, and freckles.

She was drunk, it was obvious. She had sweat dripping from her face and neck, and the smell of Vodka that was coming off of her was almost too much to bear.

But then you felt a hand on your back, and Tara was beside you, interrupting the girl whose name you couldn't be bothered to know. It was loud, and your mind was too foggy to listen to their conversation. The girl scoffed, pulling her hands off of you as she stormed away. Tara grabbed your hand, tugging you along as she made her way to the kitchen.

"You weren't going to hook up with her or anything, were you?" she had a teasing smile as she stopped at the kitchen table to refill the cup in her hand. She glanced up at you, raising the cup to her lips.

"what the fu- no, Tara, Jesus" you muttered, shaking your head quickly.

She shrugged innocently, taking a large sip. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and your eyes drifted down to the drop of the liquid that was trailing down her neck. "Alright, alright, whatever you say"

Conversation flowed easily between you two, and after several more drinks, Tara was motioning you closer, so you leaned down near her cheek. Her lips brushed against your ear as she spoke over the music. "D'you wanna go upstairs? It's crowded down here", you nodded slowly, following behind her as she trudged up the stairs.

She opened the door to a room, stepped inside, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She fell back, staring up at the ceiling. You closed the door, locking it behind you, and then you took a seat next to her.

"You okay?" you murmured softly, looking over at her. She nodded slowly.

"I'm a little tired. Might've drank a little too much" she yawned, raising a hand up to cover her mouth, and then she pushed herself up, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you into her side. "You're the best", she mumbled, her shoulders rising as she took a deep breath, "You know that?"

"I know, I'm pretty great" you teased, and she pulled away, a small smile on her face. "Don't get too cocky now", she pointed her index finger at you, grinning as she gently tapped your forehead.

There was a comfortable silence. You could see Tara staring at you from the corner of your eye, but you didn't make eye contact, too nervous you'd say something stupid.

She leaned forward, resting her chin on your shoulder. She nudged your cheek with her nose, hoping to get your attention, but when you kept your gaze on your lap, she frowned. She put her hand on your cheek and turned your head to face her.

"Hey" she whispered, you could smell the alcohol that was lingering on her breath. "I need to tell you something. m'kay?", you nodded, sending a comforting smile.

She lets out a heavy sigh, laying her cheek on your shoulder. "I think that- well...I know that I like you...a lot. Like- more than friends, you know?"

You blinked in surprise, taken back by her confession. Your heart was beating so hard, you felt like it was going to pop out of your chest. "Woah, what?"

"I like you...like, I wanna be with you"

"you're drunk, Tara" you mumbled. She pulled away, furrowing her eyebrows and shaking her head slightly.

"That doesn't matter, I know what I'm saying" she spoke softly. "I've had a crush on you for... a while", you bit back your grin, but you couldn't stop the nervous chuckle that left your mouth.

"I like you too" she smiled, her eyes crinkling as she glanced down at her lap.

"Yeah, I kinda thought so. You're a little obvious" she murmured, a tired chuckle leaving her mouth. Your mouth dropped open, and you gently nudged her side, before pulling her back towards you.

"You wanna go home?" you asked, slowly rubbing her forearm. "Sleep sounds really nice right now. I'm gonna have a horrible headache tomorrow", you groaned at the thought, earning a small chuckle from Tara. She nodded, and you stepped out of the bedroom and down the stairs, her hand in yours.

On your way out, you saw Mindy, who was still sitting down on the couch. She grinned at you, raising her hand as she gave you a thumbs up.

[kitkatscabinet]

Whumptober - 07: Drugged

John Mactavish x f! reader

A/N: For @bunnyreaper here's the whump version, sorry it took so long, hope you like it <3

Soap knows that something’s wrong the moment you call him. You drunk calling him wasn’t exactly out of the norm, in fact, it was weird if you didn’t spam him with texts and tik toks letting him know how much you loved him. 

His team often sledged him jokingly for how whipped he was for you, but it was that adoration and care that let him know within seconds that you weren’t okay. There was no excited shout of his name, no blaring music that you were drunkenly singing along to and none of your friends were yelling at him for interrupting girl's night. 

There’s just silence, a terribly concerning silence only accentuated by the shuffling of clothes and shuddering breaths. He’s on his feet and crashing into the wall on his quest for the keys in three seconds flat. His shoes aren’t even on properly and he’s already in the car when he finally gets a response to his barrage of questions. 

“Johnny?” Your voice is slurred and confused in a way that has his blood freezing. You very rarely got so sloshed you couldn’t function anymore but Soap knew what you were like even then, and this was not it. 

When the phone connects to the car's Bluetooth he’s throwing his phone into the passenger seat and reversing so quickly the tyres screech in protest. He knows where you are, you were always good at updating him if you moved venues but it doesn’t stop him from double-checking. 

He has to ask the question three times before you eventually confirm that you haven’t gone anywhere, his heart rate increasing frantically with each second that passes and he’s not by your side yet. 

“Johnny? Wh’re you? I think somethin’s wrong. Don’t feel so good.” Your whimpers fill the car and Soap starts to drive even faster, blowing through two red lights and a stop sign with little concern over the inevitable tickets and demerits he’ll get. 

“I know baby. Am almost there, just hold on a little longer.” He commanded as firmly and gently as possible. “Ye in the bathroom? Locked the door?” 

Once again it takes a while for you to understand and respond to his question but when you do he allows himself to relax a little. He tries to ascertain where your friend has gone and not for the first time he wants to kill her when you tell him you have no idea where she’s gone. 

“Johnny?” you call for him a few more times as if forgetting you’ve already gotten on the line.

He throws the car into park when he arrives, not bothering with the handbrake and not caring that he’s just stopped in the middle of the road. Cars are honking and people are yelling but he doesn’t give a single fuck, his mind is on a one-track mission. 

He’s even left his phone on the seat in his haste and the door open. Undoubtedly, you’ll yell at him when he relays the details later but he’s willing to cop all of your anger if it means he gets to you in time. 

He runs past the bouncer, outpacing the shouting man and ducking past various security members as he beelines towards the bathroom. Vaguely he recognises that he’s being chased but it doesn’t matter because he makes it to the ladies' bathroom well before they catch up.

It doesn’t even register that the bathroom door isn’t locked like you’d said it was when he bursts into the grimy space because his attention and fury are quickly dragged elsewhere. Namely to the motherfucker that was sticking his hand down your pants as you sobbed and tried to get away with your body’s sluggish movement. 

He’s letting out a furious roar and when the man turns with wide eyes at the commotion behind him Johnny’s fist smacks into his nose with a sickening crack that sends him stumbling backwards bleeding and onto the tile floor. 

It’s only the fact that your legs give out without someone supporting you that stops him from beating the man to death as he grabs you and pulls you against him. 

You’re so out of it that you protest, pushing against his chest as you cry because you don’t recognise him straight away. 

It takes a bit of cajoling and pressing soft kisses into your hairline before you recognise him but when you do you completely devolve into a crying, sobbing mess, collapsing against him even further as you finally allow yourself to feel all of the overwhelming panic you’d been trying to hold off. 

Security’s caught up and the commotion they make as they barge into the bathroom sets you off even further and Soap simply shoots them a heated glare before shouldering past them with you safe in his arms. 

Perhaps miraculously, both the car and his phone are still where he’d left him and Johnny gently deposits you in the passenger seat, clipping your seatbelt in. His heart shatters a little further when you start to beg him not to leave you. 

“M not leaving ye bonnie, just need to get myself strapped in.”

“Promise?” you sound so small and Soap is now certain that once you’re safe and looked after he’d going to hunt down the scumbag that dared lay a finger on you. For now though, 

“I promise love.” When he slips into the driver's seat you’re reaching blearily for his hand immediately and he takes it just as quickly, pulling away and driving far slower than he’d gone to get to you. 

“I promise.” The words are so soft that they’re more for himself than you. They’re an oath that he’ll keep even if it kills him.

[mxlti-lover]

Sick {Paul Lahote}

Summary: You fell sick with a really bad cold, but how were you supposed to tell your werewolf boyfriend you didn’t want him to cuddle you?

Warnings: none, just a sad Paul.

Word Count: 1059

(P.S. please don’t judge too hard if this is terrible, I haven’t written in a while and I’m a little rusty…)

*do not steal or copyright any of my work pls and thank you*

You woke up that morning feeling horrible. Your nose was so clogged you could barely breathe and you had the worst honking cough.

You laid in bed, curled into a ball watching your favorite Disney movie. You knew you should tell Paul, but you didn’t really want him at the moment. Don’t get it twisted, you loved Paul to death, I mean, he was your mate, but when you got sick like this, his body heat didn’t help.

You knew he would want to cuddle you, give you some scalp massages as he checked up on you every minute of the hour, but right now, you just wanted to be alone.

That is until you heard the front door opening.

“Y/N! Baby! Where are you?!” Paul shouted.

You knew he probably sensed you weren’t okay as he still had an hour before he usually got home from patrol. Probably talking Sam into letting him leave early.

“I’m upstairs!” You called out the best you could, your throat feeling raw from coughing.

You heard footsteps rush up the stairs and soon Paul’s tall figure stood in the doorway, scanning you over, a frown on his face.

“Baby…why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” He asked softly as he made his way over to the bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed as he leaned over kissing your forehead and cheek softly, checking if you had a fever.

“You’re burning up baby.” He spoke sadly, sitting up again to look at you.

You knew you weren’t a pretty sight as you hadn't gotten up at all that morning. Your hair probably a tangled mess, your nose probably red and chapped from how much you had to blow it and your face looking as pale as a ghost.

“I didn’t want to bother you..” You lied, as you spoke barely above a whisper. Your voice raspy as you knew you were probably gonna lose it soon.

“Baby, you wouldn’t be bothering me at all. I would rather be by your side taking care of you, than on patrol.” He says frowning at the idea of you being alone all morning like this.

You sigh as you rub your face sitting up, his hand coming down to softly push you back down.

“You’re not getting up baby. Whatever you need I’ll get for you. Now, have you eaten at all today?” He asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You shook your head no as you leaned into his touch, his warmth radiating against your skin.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” He says as he gets up and his figure disappears from the doorway.

You sigh as you curl back up into a ball, watching the movie again, guilt washing over you. You knew he would want to cuddle you, as his love language is definitely physical touch. Especially when it comes to taking care of you.

But you didn’t want his cuddles at the moment. Your skin was already burning underneath the thin blanket you chose, let alone having your own personal heater of a boyfriend coming to lay next to you.

You took a deep breath as you let that thought slip your mind for now, closing your eyes as your body needed sleep. That is until you struggled to breath again, groaning softly as you sat up, blowing your nose for the hundredth time that morning.

A few minutes later you heard Paul coming back into the room with a small tray. On it sat a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a glass of apple juice - your two favorite things to have when you were sick.

You smiled up at him as you sat up in bed, fluffing up the pillows behind your back to sit more comfortably.

Paul set the tray down carefully into your lap as you immediately dig into the soup, humming softly as the warmth from the soup soothed your throat.

“Thank you.” You whispered as you looked up at Paul.

“You’re welcome baby girl.” He says sitting down next to you as he leaned over to kiss the top of your head.

He looked over at the TV as he chuckled softly at the movie that was playing. “Should’ve known you were watching this.”

“It’s my favorite movie to watch when I’m sick.” You protested shooting daggers at him as he raised his hands up in defense.

“I know my love, I was just messing with you. Now finish up your soup and I’ll give you some well deserved cuddles, yeah?” He says leaning over kissing your cheek.

You nod as you put on a fake smile, sighing into the bite of soup you took. How are you supposed to tell your boyfriend that you don’t want him to cuddle you?

~ ~ ~

It’s been 10 minutes now since you finished your soup and your boyfriend immediately pulling you into him to cuddle.

Your head laid on his chest, as your arms wrapped around his torso like you usually would. Your legs tangled with one another.

You will admit that it was nice for the first few minutes, sighing contently as you closed your eyes. But now, it was starting to become unbearable. Your skin felt like it was on fire, as you began to squirm uncomfortably.

“Paul, can you please let me go? I can’t do this anymore, you’re making my skin burn up more than it already is.” You mumbled as you tried to get out of his grip.

He looked down at you, hurt. He let go of you as you moved away from him, panting softly to yourself as you enjoyed the cold air hitting your body.

You knew Paul was hurt, and you didn’t mean for it to come off so harshly, you just needed to get away from him.

Paul watched as you relaxed feeling terrible that he made you feel even more uncomfortable than you already were.

“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything..” He spoke barely above a whisper, as he leaned over, kissing the crown of your head softly, before getting up, exiting your room.

“Paul, don’t leave! I still want you with me.” You begged as you tried to reach out for him, but he continued to walk out your room, upset with himself that he made his girlfriend uncomfortable.

~ ~ ~

I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!🫶

- Paige

[yeontaescumslut]

Happy Anniversary ◯ ♱ ۫ 🪽𝄞 ❀ 𓂂 ࣪ ა ₊

Pairing Jay x (Fem) Reader

Genre non- idol au, smut

Synopsis: You’ve never been the dominant type in you and Jays relationship, but tonight that would change when you want to surprise him for your anniversary…

Warnings: Oral, Fingering, name calling (good girl, slut, daddy, etc), face sitting, squirting, car sex, public sex

Word count: 2,781K

Authors note: For all my Jay Stans 👹 I’m making my way through all of enha so if you have anyone in particular you want me to do next lmk!! Thank you so much for reading my stuff it makes me so happy 🖤🥲

Today started out as any normal day at your job and Jay was working in the office per usual. As you’re researching something for a project at work when your phone suddenly chimes, you look over to see that its a message form your Boyfriend, Jay. The message read…

Jay: Be ready by 6:15, we’ve got dinner plans beautiful girl.

You smile at your phone cheeks getting red at the message. He did this often knowing it was your love language. You continue your work now excited for your work day to end so you could get all dressed up for your boyfriend. Today was your 4 year anniversary, so you knew he had something really nice planned. Typical of him to do so, he has always been the romantic type knowing just the way to get your heart racing with a look from his soft smoldering eyes.

Luckily for you your work day wrapped up rather quickly especially considering how for the rest of your shift you were daydreaming about how your evening with jay was gonna go, and boy had you mustered up something special for him in the meantime. You quickly rushed home trying your best to beat the 5 o’clock traffic so you could have as much time as possible to get ready.

you shower, and doll yourself all up for jay curling your hair and smudging your eyeliner just the way he loved. Your hand shakes slightly as you put on your deep red lipstick too entranced in your thoughts about what you had planned to stay still. You do your best to shake the feeling as you go to get dressed into the little black dress that you had bought about a week prior for this occasion specifically. Zipping it up you get goosebumps at the thought of how jay has once traced this pattern on your back to discard of a little dress like this.

Before you know it, time flies and its time, you hear a honk coming from outside you and jays shared apartment complex, knowing it was him 6:15 on the dot not a minute early or late. Your skin textured with bumps thinking about how to execute this plan successfully and not be awkward about it. You rush out of the apartment grabbing your purse on the way out. As you walk out of the complex doors you see Jay standing in front of your passenger seat door hands placed in his pockets. When he spots you exiting the complex doors he stands up straight from leaning on the car door. His eyes wide, a smile slowly stretches across his face.

Fuck. He is wearing that silk black button up that highlights his body line like no body’s business. This has your knees slightly wanting to buckle as you approach him. Jay takes you by the hand using it to spin you around for a 360. His free hand giving your bottom an encouraging tap as he playfully whistles at you. “You never fail to amaze me beautiful” he pulls you into his chest, a waft of his familiar woodsy scent filling your nose as he kisses your forehead.

On the road jay rests his hand on your upper thigh without fail of course, its his favorite thing about your body. This would come into great play to know for later.. his veiny tan skin is a contrast to pale elegance of yours. It almost felt sinful to look at sometimes. The cool metal of his silver rings leaving indents in your flesh as he gripped your thigh at each light you caught, him glancing over to send you a little smirk or bring your hand up to his lips to kiss it. This had your core gripping around nothing, he surely knows what he’s doing to you right?

You glance over at your stunning boyfriend analyzing his little details, his gelled hair, his dangly silver earrings, the subtle five o clock shadow peaking in, the little bit of skin is showing from the first 2 buttons he has undone, the Gucci belt locked around his hips it was all too much to handle. Jay was a simple sexy man. He was your man.

You arrive at the restaurant, you’re staring at Jays veiny tan hands as he grips the gear shift, shifting the car into park. You’re pussy dripping at the thought of his hands tracing your body like that. Jay calls to you snapping you out of your daze. In his deep raspy voice he asks if you’re ready to go inside. You shake your head as though shaking off the thoughts and reply with a confident yes.

Jay exits his side of the car coming over to yours to open your door for you, extending his hand out to grab yours, helping you out of the passenger seat. You take his arm, wrapping your hand around his thick bicep, he walks you both into the restaurant, keeping you on his arm the entire time. When you enter the host takes you to the most romantic table you have ever seen in your life. Rose petals strone across the table, a bottle of your favorite wine placed in the center and chairs placed right next to eachother instead of across. Jay knew you loved sitting next to him instead of in front of him.

Jay walks over to the table pulling your chair out for you, his hand gestures for you to take a seat, once you’re sat in your chair he places a white napkin across your lap, then pushing your chair in, following suit he sits in his chair. As soon as he slides his chair closer to the table his hand is immediately back on your thigh. It was at this moment you new your boyfriend was on the same wavelength as you tonight.

you order an appetizer and that gives you and jay some privacy from the waiter for a while, his attention is immediately on you. He’s leaned back in his chair, not in an ill mannered way but rather just comfortably resting but god does he look incredibly sexy doing it. He brushes a hand through his dark locks as he gazes over at you, simultaneously raises his place on your thigh but not higher, more inner. His pinky grazing your clothed core shamelessly. A sultry smile appearing on his lips when he realizes just how wet you are already.

however he doesn’t address it up front,he doesn’t have to because you can read the look right off his sexy ass face. “ you look so beautiful..as always.” He coos tucking some hair out of your face with his free hand. “ I’m so lucky to have such a stunning woman inside and out love me.You are my entire world sweet girl, happy anniversary.” He closes the space between your faces using that same hand to cup the back of your neck to kiss your lips quickly. The only reason he doesn’t linger this kiss being the fact that he’s reaching into his pocket to bring out a cute little box wrapped in a red ribbon.

The shock on your face is apparent as he pulls out the little box. Your mouth falling open as a reaction. You reach out to take the box with both hands, tears welling in the corners of your eyes. You untie the ribbon softly, pulling the longer string allowing the bow to fall into your lap softly. Jay is leaning back in his chair his face riddled with anticipation as he watches you open the box. You lock your fingers under the lid of the box prying it open softly, anticipating what’s inside. As the lid slowly reveals what’s inside your heart rate rises higher and higher as you see more of the pendant peeking from behind the box’s lid. Once the lid is fully off your eyes widen as your eyes are graced with the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen in your life.

“Jay, this is Beautiful, you really didn’t have to” You say to him tears peaking out of the corners of your eyes. Jay reaches his hand over to caress your face softly. “Of course i did my love, you deserve this and more” a smile painted across your face as you hold the pendant in your hand admiring the beauty of it. “Would you put it on for me?” You hand Jay the necklace and begin to lift your hair so his hands can snake around your neck easier. The cold metal of the chain giving you slight goosebumps that is until jays hands graze your neck, he is so gentle his fingers tickle your neck as he claps the necklace. When he sees the beautiful pendant draped around your neck he runs his hands down your back resting them at your waist, “It looks stunning on you darling” his mouth right next to your ear as the words hit your ear drum, you feel his plump pillowy lips make contact with the back of your neck, making you clasp your hands together tightly in your lap. He knew exactly what he was doing and knew exactly what it was doing to you. Just as your breathing steadies the waiter arrives at the table to ask for your orders.

As you’re waiting on your meals, Jay pours wine in your glass, your favorite that he specifically requested to be had at the table. “Here you are princess” pouring the wine with two hands, you look at him admiring his sharp beautiful features. Your top teeth catch your bottom lip as you stare at Jays hands, thinking sinful thoughts just wanting to eat and get him alone but you push through. You’re snapped back into reality when Jay asks you if you’re going to drink your wine or just stare at it.” He lets out a little giggle swirling his wine in his glass taking a sip. You giggle back at him raising your glass to your lips letting the tart red wine stain your lips.

The meal has finally arrived to you and Jay, you both enjoy your meal and chit chat through it. Once you’ve finished the waiter brings over the bill and Jay pays. As you get ready to get up to leave Jay pulls your seat out for you making it easier for you to get up. He has always been a gentleman, even 4 years later. He reaches his elbow out for you to take. You grab ahold of his bicep giving it a little squeeze. Preparing yourself for what is about to take place.

You and Jay make it back to the car safely, like the gentleman he is, he opens your door for you waiting until you’re fully in and settled before he closes the door. You twiddle your thumbs waiting for him to get in the drivers seat. Once he gets settled he lets out a happy sigh patting his stomach. “Did you enjoy dinner sweetie?” He asks patting the back of your head sweetly. Your brain is fogged at this point, you’re distracted by him and he’s right here. The thoughts of how you’re going to pull this off clouds your brain, you’re never the type to be dominate and initiate things between you and Jay but you had always wanted to and thought tonight would be perfect. He tits his head looking at you “baby?” He questions softly. You snap you’re head up coming back to reality once again, “sorry baby, yes dinner was delicious thank you so much for dinner, and this” you grab the pendant around your neck smiling softly. Jay smiles at you, “so where do you wanna go now?” You respond very confidently having had this in mind “how about we go to d the park where we had out first date? Maybe watch the stars?” You were absolutely bullshitting, you know that the park has the darkest parking spots near you and no one is ever there. He agrees with you thinking it was also a great idea not having a clue what’s coming.

You and Jay pull up to the park, you direct him to the darkest spot in the lot, he definitely has a clue what’s going down now, from how nervous you’ve been all night to the way you had been distracting yourself. He rests his arm on the steering wheel turning his body to face you, “mmm so this is what you’ve been wanting all night” he thinks you want him to fuck you but that’s not necessarily what you had in mind you’ve had enough and decided to just go for it, no more stalling. You look up at him, your eyes look different than usual they’re lust filled tonight. “Shut up and lean your chair all the way back” you sit on your knees in your chair pushing his chest down as he obeys what you say. He leans the chair all the way back to where it’s basically flat on the backseat. You make your way over, straddling his lap in the driver seat, your dress hiking up your thighs making the bottom of your ass hang out, jays hands find their way to the tender skin ,giving it a squeeze. Your lips find his, his lips as soft as cotton, your tongue fights with his for a taste of eachother, his hands roaming your body, yours entangled in his chocolate brown hair. You pull away from the kiss sitting up from your position, you grab jay by the jaw telling him to open, he follows suit opening his mouth, your saliva leaving your mouth as you spit in his. Leaving him no time to think you shimmy your way up to where your pussy is directly on his mouth, his hands find your hips steadying you and holding you in place, his tongue immediately finds your clothed clit sucking on it gently, his hands pushing your dress further up your body, his hand finds the seam of your panties pulling them to the side, his tongue making contact with your now bare folds, your hands gripping the back headrest for stability, your body jolting at the feeling, your core so sensitive in this position. Jays lips wrap around your bud as he pointer and middle find your entrance, pushing them into you curling them in just the right way to where it hits your g spot, a cry ripping from your throat, your hand placed on the window leaving traces of pleasure. Jay grunts into your pussy, his free hand reaches down, his tan slender fingers finding the buckle of his belt, flipping it open, the button sliding through the fabric the sound of his zipper makes you realize what he’s doing, his zipper slides down, pulling his cock out of the confinement of his pants. His hand gripping the base of his cock tight as his tongue navigates your folds.

Your eyes shut tight as the knot in your stomach burns with greediness. Hes giving you all he can yet you want more, Your voice echoing through the car as you beg for more “Jay more, please daddy” youre on the verge of tears, Jay does not hesitate as his lips wrap around your bud sucking pulling the sensation to one spot, his finger tips prodding at your cervix at this point, curled hitting just the right spot. Hes now bucking his hips into his own hands, the feeling leaving his grunts vibrating against your pussy. The heat from outside mixed with the air from the car leaves the windows foggy the only thing visible is your handprint on the window. The sinful sounds leaving your throat being covered by the music filling your ears. The pit in your stomach burns hotter as Jay speeds up, his fingers pounding into your cunt leaving his fingers soaking wet, his suction on your clit not letting up pulling you to the end. His fingers scrape your cervix one last time before youre squirting all over his fingers and face, he follows suit shooting his seed all up his stomach mixing with your fluids. His tongue lapping up every drop you release as he strokes out every drop of his own.

You plop down on the back seat not having any strength left in your legs, his car seat soaking wet, your breaths heavy, shaky. Jay looks over at you as he licks his lips and wipes the mess you made from his face “Good Girl” you look back at him with a heavy smirk. “Happy Anniversary”

[phantomskeep]

Putting the "Fun" Back In "Funeral" Chapter 4

AO3 | Chapter Three --- Chapter Five

Chapter Four: Gotham's One-Stop Shop For Villainy The first thing Danny noticed about this dimension was it smelled. A polluted haze hung heavy over the sky, casting the urban jungle in a dark mist and assaulting the halfa’s nose with the sharp tang of gasoline. Loud big-city sounds filled his ears as he caught himself in the midst of his free-fall, leaving the man distorted. It was so much different compared to his Keep in the Zone. To be pulled from a place of near-constant quiet into a realm full of honking horns, shouts and sirens was enough to have Danny reel his aura back in. The ambient ectoplasm around him felt sticky, and wrong, like the very air around Danny had been contaminated by something dark and sinister. He pulled his atmospheric spirit back, tugging where he could feel all the tiny little souls around him closer to himself. Bit by bit, his range of feelings depleted until he almost couldn’t feel the filth that surrounded him. Small pants left his lungs by the time Danny could only feel a tiny circle around himself that pulsed with his aura as he tried to keep a lid on his powers that desperately wanted to run free.

Attempting to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of not sensing the people around him, as well as the general unclean feeling of touching such disgusting ectoplasm, Danny spun in a small circle to try and get his bearings. The portal created by the Skeleton Key left him hovering over an old clocktower bathed in the haze of the city. Looking around proved to be near-futile, because even with his superior sight, Danny could barely see the street from where he floated.

The young man shifted the bags thrown over his shoulder, nervously looking around while trying to catch his breath. Clockwork had said his friend would be waiting for him, so where…?

“Hello, my King.”

A feminine voice caused Danny to startle, turning quickly to face the ghost that snuck up on him. The being before him reminded Danny of Shadow, almost. Their form was pitch black against the backdrop of the Victorian clocktower, constantly moving and shifting like a wispy fire. Piercing red eyes bore into him, causing him to nervously rub the back of his neck.

“Hi,” Danny spoke slowly. “Are you the one Clockwork told me about? The Spirit of Gotham?”

The ghost chuckled softly, moving their wispy form closer to Danny. A belated wisp of cold air worked its way out of his throat, letting him know another of the Realms was close. “I am, young King. You may call me Lady Gotham, the protector of this city.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Gotham. I’m Danny Phantom.” He said, remembering the many hours he spent with Pandora and Dorathea drilling the proper mannerisms into his thick skull. Danny bowed at the waist, ignoring how the two bags he carried knocked against his knees. “Thank you for allowing me into your domain and protections. I will treat your lair as my own– with the utmost kindness, respect, and haunting that should be given to any member of the Realms.”

“I accept your gratitudes and give my own, King Phantom.” Lady Gotham’s voice was steady when she spoke the traditional greetings of the Zone, unlike Danny’s own unsteady cadence. Danny rose from his bow to see the other’s form in her own imitation of a respectful stance. After a beat, she rose from it to meet his eyes again.

The young king grinned at the shifting shadow in front of him, allowing excitement-nice to meet you to leave the tight leash he had on his aura to tentatively brush against Lady Gotham. A little trill of happiness left his core at the tender hello-nice to meet you-calm that caressed the small bubble Danny had created.

“Come, Little One,” Gotham spoke gently. “Clockwork has left you in my care until your tasks are complete. The ones who are mine have prepared an area for you while you are under my protection. We will head there and I will teach you the cultures of this dimension. Is this acceptable, King Phantom?”

“More than, Lady Gotham.” Danny continued to smile at his new guardian. “But, please, call me Danny. Or Phantom. Just- just none of that king stuff, please.”

A quiet chuckle emitted from the shadow before him. “As you wish, Danny. If we are being informal, feel free to call me Gotham.” She paused, swiveling the area where her eyes rested around to face to her left. The movements reminded Danny of the character No-Face from Spirited Away, a heavy swing of herself in a dramatic full-body maneuver. “We must head north to reach the lair I have created for you, Little One.”

“Lead the way, Lady G!”

The flight over was a quick one, with Danny’s ghostly guide fading from the visible spectrum before taking off. Danny followed suit, taking care to keep Gotham in his tiny bubble. As they traveled, he strained himself to see through the muggy haze that encompassed Gotham’s city. They passed large, towering skyscrapers with flashy signs, massive highways filled to the brim with cars, and Danny could barely make out dark water when they passed over a bridge. There were no immediate outstanding differences between his home dimension and this one. So far everything seemed pretty normal, besides the slimy feeling tingling on the edges of his senses.

From the past couple experiences Danny had with time travel and multiverse hopping, the man was expecting to see something like flying cars or gravity-defying structures. But everything seemed almost normal. Maybe this world wasn’t one of those crazy superhuman filled ones like the one Kitty and Johnny told him stories of. Apparently, their home dimension was pretty wild.

Danny almost lost his ghostly companion when she led him across a wide-open area filled with plants, though he caught up with her when she began to head slightly to the left. They passed more towers, more open areas with the faint sounds of cresting waves against land, until Gotham finally began to slow down.

“This part of my city is called Cherry Hills,” she said as the two ghosts hovered over the city’s buildings. “Many of the areas to the northeastern side of this section are used as housing, the western as warehouses, and the southeastern as workspaces or labs.” The older being began to gently fly further north, slowly leading them closer to the buildings.

As the structures pulled into view, Danny took in the sights before him. A large highway cut through the housing district, and he could easily make out the far-off sight of warehouses leading to docks where a handful of large ships were tied up. A freight train’s blaring horn was accompanied by the flashes of light as it cut through the city’s haze. The raised railings of a metro train track ran alongside the highway. As they continued north, the housing buildings started to look more worn-down, less like their shiny brethren on the east side of the carpath.

“Is this the area I’m going to be living in?” Danny questioned after a while. He wasn’t too concerned about the state of the building he would be occupying - he (kind of) survived the Fenton household for eighteen years, after all -, but the shock of being in a large city was starting to grate on his nerves.

“Yes,” Lady Gotham said as she began to hover over one of the taller residential complexes. “This is the one.”

With that, Danny could only helplessly follow where he could feel her plummeting through the building’s roof. When he crossed the barrier, he let his invisibility go to match Gotham. Her shadowed form lazed within the large studio’s space, letting herself barely brush against the floor.

“Welcome to your new home, Little One.” Gotham swirled closer to him, the edges of her emotions pressing against him in a soothing tone of welcome-this is yours-take it. “I hope it is to your liking.”

An awed breath left Danny as he slowly turned to truly take in the studio apartment he was presented with. The ceilings were high, with one side tilted at an angle to run alongside the roof. Two large windows let the hazy day’s light peak through the panes, washing the area with a gentle glow. A nice-looking kitchen occupied the space’s far corner, and Danny was only a little disappointed to note it would probably not see much use. An open area was broken up with a sturdy kitchen table sitting innocently next to another large window. The corner along the same wall as the kitchen area ran into a cozy-looking living room area, an elevator space acting as a barrier to the adjacent corner.

Danny was a bit perplexed to note that scattered lab equipment filled that space. Did Clockwork tell Gotham that he was a mad scientist or something? But Danny moved on to take in the staircase leading up to an open L-shaped platform. Floating up, he found a cozy-looking king bed greeted him, along with a computer set-up that would have made Tucker drool. He excitedly noted a window with access to a balcony with stairs leading onto the top of the roof was attached to the same wall perpendicular to the one his bed was against.

The young king zoomed next to Gotham, a large smile on his face. “This is awesome! How the heck did you get this all set up?”

An easy chuckle left the other ghost’s form, gentle emotions swaying between the two as they continued to get used to the other. “The people of my city don’t often question when mysterious jobs line up for them. It is part of their culture to not ask too many questions, after all.”

“That’s…” Danny paused, trying in vain to find the morally correct words without offending his host. “Interesting?”

A rumbling purr filled the air, Gotham letting a gentle pulse of amusement ripple against her king. “Interesting is certainly a word for it. Do not fret, Little One, no harm comes to them.”

The young man awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed that his worries were so easily spotted by the older ghost. He wasn’t quite used to having anyone other than the Ancients or his friends read him with such ease - having another do so, even if she was a ghost and Clockwork’s friend, was unusual for Danny. It made him wonder what type of relationship she had with Clockwork, as he had never before seen or even heard of Gotham before now. Before he could question her, though, she swiftly spoke.

“Before we get too distracted, I must inform you of this dimension.” She shifted her way behind where Danny was hovering, seeming to herd him towards his new couch. “Sit, sit. There is no need to be uncomfortable for such a conversation.”

“Wait,” Danny protested. “Let me put my stuff down real quick.” Without waiting for a response, he zipped up to his new bed. Dropping his duffle and Clockwork’s satchel onto the plain blue bed sheet before rummaging around for the journal gifted to him. When he finally found it, the young man flew back to the simple pale couch where Gotham waited.

It was an odd sight to see. A giant, angry looking cloud of smog hovering like an exasperated parent in a picture-perfect looking home.

“Okay,” Danny started as he landed on the surprisingly comfortable couch. He leaned back, relaxing against soft cushions, as he let his transformation wash over himself. “So what do I need to know?”

Surprise rippled across the air at the sight of Danny’s flashy shift, but Gotham was composed when she spoke. “From what Clockwork has told me, you come from a dimension where you are one of three beings who are more than human?”

Giving a small nod, Danny felt like his chest would explode from the hope-excitement-trepidation at what Gotham was implying. “Are you saying there’s, like, people with powers here?!”

“Indeed,” Gotham agreed, her voice lifting at the other’s obvious excitement. “There are metahumans, those with the meta-gene, who are humans with various powers. Others include humans who have been experimented on, had accidents, know the magical arts, or even been subjected to ancient powers. Aliens have begun to call this Earth home, as well. This includes those from Mars, Krypton, Thanegar, Tamaran…” She trailed off, staring at Danny who was physically vibrating. “My king, are you okay?”

“There’s aliens?” He whispered. “You guys have aliens?!”

“Yes, many of them-”

“Holy fucking shit,” Danny jumped up, coming to eye level with a startled Gotham. “Can I meet them?! Can I visit their planets? How many are there, what do they look like, do they have powers?!” The young man was trying to grab onto something in order to steady himself, but his hands kept passing through Gotham’s smokey form. “Lady G, please tell me I can meet them. Please, I will literally die again if I can’t meet actual people who live in space.”

A happy laugh echoed across the apartment’s space, the City Spirit being the source of it. “You are certainly excited about this, Little One.”

“Of course!” He exclaimed, waving his noodle arms around. “Space is so cool, G. It’s the greatest thing ever, I love it! I’ve always wanted to explore it, ever since I was a kid.”

“Well, you will be glad to hear that meeting the aliens who call Earth home is something you will be able to do.”

“Do any of them live here? In your city?”

“No,” She said, moving her eyes to look out the large windows gracing the two with a hazy glow. “The Dark Knight, a man who helps protect my lair, does not allow ones with powers to operate within me.”

A curious expression overtook Danny. His excited movements slowed to a halt, and he regarded Gotham with a critical, glowing eye. “Do you want me to take care of him, Lady Gotham?”

Calm-do not worry-amusement gently brushed against Danny, causing him to relax. “As much as I appreciate your protection, Little One,” Gotham said as she faced her king. “The Batman has this rule for good reasons, ones that I agree with.”

Danny’s metaphorical hackles lowered at Gotham’s comment. The piercing neon green of his eyes bled back into their usual icy blue, though the curious look did not leave. “Why’s that? And who names their kid Batman?”

Part of the City Spirit’s dark cloud tried to nudge him back towards his couch. “The Batman,” she began, “is a hero who operates to protect my city. He was born here and donned his cape in order to help those in need from the many criminals who call my territory home.”

Danny gave an involuntary awed noise. “So you guys have heroes here, too?” A dark tendril of smog wrapped around the back of the couch, resting gently against Danny’s neck.

The idea of having other heroes around was something that greatly appealed to Danny. Being the lone super-powered protector of Amity Park for so long took its toll on the young man, even with his human companions. It just wasn’t the same, being the only one with advanced abilities. He had to take the bigger hits, he had to be the one to save his friends if they got into too great of a bind, he had to be the one to try and take on the burden of Amity Park alone when they all went off to find their place in the world. With great power comes great responsibility, after all. And being the Ghost King? Well, Danny had more than enough “great power” to spare.

The thought was just as sobering as it was exciting. Other heroes, super or not, meant that there was something to have caused those heroes to come into play. Some great villain, or a world-ending disaster, or even large crime rates. Lady Gotham only said criminals, though, so maybe there were no supervillains Danny needed to worry about.

“Yes. In fact, there is a large society of both heroes and villains.”

Well, it was a nice thought while it lasted.

“But many of the aliens you were so excited to hear about are among those heroes.” Gotham continued, not noticing Danny’s sudden mid-afterlife crisis. “There is the Batman, who is one of the founders of the Justice League. Superman, Wonder Woman, the Flash, Green Arrow, and many others are all part of this superhero society - the Justice League.”

“Okay,” Danny was desperately trying to keep up with this sudden information. “So, Batman is a super-powered dude who helped to start an entire squad of superheroes?”

“He has no powers. The Dark Knight is just a man, same with Green Arrow and many others. They simply are able to keep up with the aliens, gods, and metas.”

Danny paused, taking in a breath. He touched his fingers together, pressing his palms flat. Another breath was taken, this one deeper than the last. With every ounce of teenage angst he still had within him, Danny lifted his hands up together to rest against his forehead before bringing them down in an arch that would have made Sam proud. “What the fuck.”

A laugh rolled from Gotham’s form, his guardian sneakily tightening her protective hold on him. “What the fuck indeed, Little One.”

“Okay, okay-” Danny’s voice cracked with indignation, “So regular everyday humans fight supervillains and are able to keep up with gods? And super-powered aliens?”

“Yes.”

“And one of those humans - who named himself after a bat - is the sole protector of your lair? Besides yourself? And he doesn’t let any of his superhero friends help him?”

“I never said he worked alone. Though, for a long time he did not have any help.”

“Lady G,” Danny said again with exasperation. “I repeat: what the fuck.”

Her only response was to laugh at his expense as he continued to moan about how he couldn’t seem to escape crazy people, no matter what dimension he runs to. The space shared by two multi-dimensional beings filled with an easy warmth.

“So,” Danny started after a couple minutes of his grumbling. “Superpowered people aren’t allowed in your city because one of your protectors is just a man in a… What, fursuit? A crime-fighting fursuit?” He paused, considering, before rapidly moving on. “But there are super-powered people in this dimension who are also heroes.”

“Yes, that is all true.”

The young man took a second, silently thinking, before speaking again. “Okay, okay,” He started. “And the chances that I’m going to have to just… steal all of these ghostly artifacts is pretty high, right?”

“Again, you are correct.”

“So,” Danny said, stretching out the word. “Chances are they’re going to think I’m some sort of villain.”

Gotham made a noise akin to two cars scraping against each other as she hesitated to answer. “There is a chance of that, yes.”

“Great,” he bemoaned, bonelessly flopping around his couch. “Guess it’s time to pull out the ol’ acting shoes. Welcome to Danny’s One-Stop Shop for Villainy.”

Foreign emotions rubbed against the sulking man’s aura, the City Spirit’s feelings of do not fret-all is well-I will protect you soothing Danny’s temperament. “There is no need for all of that, Little King.” When their eyes met, Gotham’s form had smoothed into a rolling fog compared to her usual flaking fire. “If all else fails, you can learn to have some fun with it. Many of the heroes and villains of this world have… gimmicks, if you would, for their respective personas.”

A critical eye was shot to the other ghost. “What do you mean by that? My ghost form’s already pretty gimmicky.”

“But,” she said. “You can always take it to the next level. I would suggest you do some research on the various powers who live within my city as well as this world. You may find some inspiration.” She paused before speaking with a teasing tone. “I also believe that Clockwork told you to blend in? Maybe a name like Inviso-bill would fit right in with the likes of Condiment King and Kiteman.”

“Absolutely not!” He screeched, waving his hands wildly as he bared his teeth. “How do you even know about that?!”

A purr echoed from Gotham’s chest, so fierce Danny could feel it vibrating his own core. “I have my ways, Little One.”

“Fucking cryptic geezers,” Danny sullenly mumbled as he pouted. “I don’t even know where I could get an outfit for stealing stuff, anyways.”

“Were you not planning on doing it in your more ghostly form?”

He stopped, eyeballing Gotham’s face area with a critical eye. The other was facing him, though more of her wispy form had started to curl around his shoulders like a lazy cat soaking up the warmth of the sun. “I thought using powers in your city was a no-no?”

“That does not mean you cannot use your other form,” Gotham’s voice took on a lecturing tone. “You just will not be able to use your powers in an obvious way. It would help to protect your identity, and I know that you know the risks of not being in one of your forms for too long. Clockwork, at the very least, informed me to help you keep track of your health.”

Danny grumbled a bit, remembering the last lecture he endured from Frostbite about his general health. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Can’t I just use my ghost form as is, then?”

“I would not recommend it.”

“Why’s that?” Danny inquired.

Gotham huffed, “Because, quite frankly, there are magic users who know about your coronation. Any being with ties to death - through magic or dying or any other way - heard the Song of Ancients as you took the crown. It will not take long for your influence over the Realms to reach here, and when that occurs they will know.”

“And then the jig is up?”

“Yes, then the ‘jig is up’.”

A loud groan left him, frustration causing Danny to get up and pace. “So, what? I just go around and snatch everything while invisible? Or in the Kingly gear? ‘Cause I don’t think my HAZMAT is the kind of gimmick you’re thinking of. Besides, wouldn’t either form just give everything away from the get-go?”

When Gotham didn’t respond, the young man turned to face her. The City Spirit was staring at him, not saying anything.

“What?” He finally asked when he couldn’t stand it.

“You can change the outfit of your form.” She stated. “Did you not know this?”

Danny nodded his head, “I mean, yeah, I swapped from the robes to my HAZMAT earlier - but I don’t even know how to start on an entirely new outfit!”

The older ghost let out a quiet laugh, “Do not fret, Little One. I can teach you how to alter your form.”

“Can you change yours?” The young man asked, curious. He knew Amorpho could shapeshift and that often a ghost could generally alter their appearance, but he didn’t think he would be able to alter his own.

“I used to be able to,” grief rolled off Gotham in waves, the intensity of it staggering. A dark cloud seemed to roll over the city, the weak light bleeding through the loft’s windows almost completely disappearing. “It was a long, long time ago that I was last able to.”

Danny reached out, letting apologies-you’re okay-I’m okay-we’re safe tentatively brush against his companion’s anguish. “Well, maybe we can figure out how to get you to change forms again. I’ll do some nosying around and figure out the best way to blend in so I can snatch some fun stuff.”

A thankful emotion poked through Gotham’s grief as she agreed with the young man before her. “Until then,” she started. “It might be a good idea for you to settle some more. I need to rest before attempting to mentor you through something as draining as altering yourself.”

“Alright,” Danny easily agreed. “Should I stay in here while you do that, or is it a good idea for me to roam around a bit?”

Gotham paused, considering. “You should be fine to wander, though I would suggest spending time familiarizing yourself with my occupants beforehand.”

“Gotcha,” he gave his new friend a small smile. “Thank you, again, for helping me with this. I really do appreciate it, Lady Gotham.”

“But of course,” she said in a tone full of fondness. “Clockwork has spoken highly of you throughout the years. I am pleased to see his judgment was not misguided.”

“Well, I’m glad that you’re pretty chill.” Danny happily moved closer to the City Spirit.

If Gotham had a physical mouth, Danny would bet that she was smiling at him when she spoke. “I will leave you to it, then. If you are in need of anything simply flare your aura. I will feel it, no matter where you are.”

“You got it, Lady G.”

And with that, the Spirit of Gotham faded from the visible spectrum. Danny felt her slip out of his aura’s bubble and he was suddenly alone in a completely new dimension. Which was, apparently, full of superheroes, supervillains, and everything in between. When the young man began walking up the stairs to where his computer was set up, the only thing on his mind was figuring out where Clockwork’s list of artifacts were and which hero he was going to look up first. That Batman dude sure sounded like a good place to start.

╮(╯▽╰)╭

The sheer amount of non-earthly beings that occupied this dimension’s earth was crazy. That was the conclusion that Danny came to hours after Gotham had left him.

It took flipping through old news channels, trolling internet forums, random fan blogs, and even watching a few interviews of various heroes for Danny to get a vague grasp of this new reality. There were some heroes that he couldn’t get a full view of - the Batman being one of them. All he could find were grainy photos of the hero and hints that he wasn’t the only vigilante in the city.

Which would make Danny’s job a bit harder.

During his deep dive into this dimension’s cultures, Danny flipped through the little journal Clockwork had gifted him. His mentor’s steady handwriting listed out the various artifacts he was going to need to find as well as their general location. Many of those artifacts, after using his shiny new high-tech computer to look them up, were located in public places or stored in secret, secure facilities. Yoinking the public ones wouldn’t be too much of an issue for Danny - his abilities would make it rather easy to avoid detection, after all - but he had no idea what a “Fortress of Solitude” was. Or even something as vague as “The Watchtower”. Seriously, some of these places sounded weird.

But others had cities listed out. Star City was obviously a town, he knew where Gotham was (duh), and even places like Themyscira were easy enough to Google. It was with this brilliant deduction that led Danny to believe some of the weirder names weren’t attached to a city at all which was rather worrying.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on who asked) Clockwork wasn’t one to steer Danny in a direction the old ghost knew wouldn’t work out. So with a healthy dose of blind faith, Danny chose to focus on whatever artifacts he could easily access for now. This meant Danny spent a decent amount of time casually scrolling through museum articles, even more blogs, and whatever else he could get his grubby little hands on. Honestly, it made the Ghost King feel like he was back in highschool trying to desperately write an entire research essay the day it was due.

The first item on Danny’s newly named “List of Shit I Need to Steal” was an item called the Hand of Greed. According to the Gotham Museum of Natural History’s website, the Hand of Greed was a statuette found in an Ancient Greek city. There were some general facts about when it was found, who discovered it, and how it came into the Museum’s care. The Wikipedia page elaborated more on the lore behind the dark statuette, though.

According to random people on the internet, the Hand of Greed had been found by Ancient Greek farmers after a lightning storm in a graveyard. There was more than a few forums debating on what caused the storm, where the hand came from, and even some people arguing that everything about the Hand was made-up. The forums then led Danny to a dead end - nothing had ever been formally concluded about the relic’s origins. It frustrated Danny a little bit. He wanted to be at least slightly more prepared for his first ever consensual heist. The half-ghost broke away from his hunched position over his desk, popping his back and yawning. The motions of this move caused his stomach to gurgle angrily, reminding Danny that eating was still something he had to do.

The young man stretched himself out, wiggling around his comfy office chair. “Guess I better get some food or something,” Danny mumbled to himself. His eyes didn’t move from where they were focused on his setup’s main monitor, where a picture of the strong fist carved out of black marble rested.

With a dramatic groan meant for no one but himself, Danny spun his chair around. He easily hefted himself off of the space, casually walking to where his duffle bag still rested. He rummaged around, grabbing his wallet before moseying his way to the elevator.

It wasn’t like Danny didn’t want to steal something, per se. As he smacked the “down” button, he considered the morality of taking something that did, technically, belong to him. It wasn’t like the people who found the statue knew it originated in the Ghost Zone - to them it was just an old statue with a weird story behind it.

The elevator arrived with a happy-sounding “ding!” and Danny stepped into the space as he fiddled with the bracelets resting on his wrist. He would have to make a plan to break into the museum, something the halfa was not looking forward to, especially with how little his research brought up. Reaching out, he poked the lobby button before resting his back against the stainless steel walls.

Maybe he could just go in invisibly? This Batman hero wouldn’t even be able to catch him if he never even appeared on camera, after all. It wasn’t like Danny had an identity in this world, anyways. Any hero would be hard-pressed to catch a ghost in the machine. The elevator stopped, doors opening with the same cheery noise.

But, even though Danny hated to admit it, he kind of wanted to meet the heroes of this dimension.

The young man continued to think about it as he walked out of the building’s lobby, not even taking note of the inside of it or the people loitering. Breathing in city smog, Danny pulled his beat-to-hell phone out of where it was resting in his khaki pants. He focused just enough to figure out where the closest convenience store was, slap a pin on his new home, and make his way in the general direction of where he needed to go.

Danny was honestly pretty surprised to see his phone worked. The shock of finding out that yes, his shitty phone did in fact apparently carry a multi-dimensional data plan, brought his attention to money. Lady Gotham didn’t really explain what forms of currency this dimension used, nor did he even consider looking that up.

Which he could solve right now, by using his phone that did somehow work. But where was the fun in that? He had to spice up his obviously too-boring life somehow. All else failed, he would just act like he was from a different country or something. There’s no way that could backfire on him - no siree, no backfiring here. And technically he wouldn’t be lying, either. It’s a win-win either way.

It was with these thoughts that Danny serenely entered a beat-up looking store with various ads decorating its windows. He had about twenty dollars in his pockets when he hopped dimensions, which would hopefully be enough to grab a sandwich or something.

Danny really, really hoped that the currency of this dimension was the same.

After the halfa snagged a decent looking chicken salad sandwich out of the store’s stacked fridges, he found it was at least similar enough to get him the food and a fountain drink. Danny took his change, thanked the cashier, and went back outside. The man leaned his back against cool glass and took out his phone to see how close the museum was to him. If nothing else, Danny could make his way to the place and do a little reconnaissance.

It seemed like something Jazz would want him to do, after all.

The GPS app on Danny’s phone showed him that the Museum of Natural History was down in Gotham’s University District, closer to where he first came into this dimension than where he was now. A forty minute drive by car, apparently, but the halfa was sure he would be able to fly there in under ten. With a small smirk, Danny stuffed his lunch into his mouth as he hurriedly searched for a decent alleyway to shift forms in.

Finding a decent spot proved to be more difficult than he had expected. The city was teeming with life - people spilling in and out of the streets and bustling across warm concrete as they went about their lives. It was after the fourth time Danny wandered into an empty-looking alley, only to find a shady deal going on, that he felt frustrated beyond belief.

It had never been this hard in Amity to find an unoccupied spot to swap to his ghost form in. The spaces between buildings almost never had other people in them, and even when there were all Danny had to do was make it to the next one over to be alone. Here, though, it was proving to be a larger task. People were everywhere and it was starting to get on the halfa’s nerves.

Danny didn’t miss home already, nope. He hadn’t even been in this dimension for twelve hours - he couldn’t break this early.

Finally, after spending way too much time trying to find a discrete area to die, Danny let his transformation sweep over himself. He faded away from the visible spectrum as soon as familiar rings of light sputtered out. He quickly shot to the sky, gazing down on the city below him with delight.

Yeah, it wasn’t Amity Park. There were people everywhere, it smelled horrible, and Danny could still feel the sticky ectoplasm of the city brushing against his aura.

But it was beautiful in its own way.

Towering skyscrapers outline the heart of the city in the distance, windows reflecting back what bits of sky peaked through the slowly lifting haze. Flashing lights rose from between the cramped buildings, washing Gotham’s people in hues of red and blue. The noise was a pleasant backdrop as Danny flew between the streets, a smile gracing his face.

He could see himself getting used to this.

Minutes passed as the halfa twirled between man-made structures, occasionally dropping down to listen to the various people as they went about their day. It was when Danny flew up to the top of a skyscraper, his whole being bursting with joy as he played in the sky, that he felt an angry pulse brush against his aura.

Startled, Danny hovered over the top of the office space. Warily, the young man sent back a questioning feeling - doing his best to keep his little bubble of safety. He was left waiting, anxiety slowly building the longer no ghost appeared on his senses.

Who had sent that? Danny wasn’t quite sure, but the only other ghost he had met in this dimension was Gotham. It had to have been her, but why was she angry?

His guess was proven correct when a black cloud rose from the edge of the skyscraper, sides flared like an avenging angel's wings. Startled, Danny dropped to the roof, taking a few steps back as his hands rose into a defensive position and his invisibility fell. Belated, a wispy breath left his mouth when the older ghost drew closer.

“My King,” Gotham’s angry voice crashed against Danny’s senses. Long gone were the soothing tones from earlier. In their place were sounds that made the hairs on the back of Danny’s neck raise up, his senses screaming DANGER DANGER! “What did I tell you about using your abilities here?”

“I thought that was just for whenever I was stealing stuff!” Danny protested, trying to recall their conversation earlier. “I was just trying to scope out the museum - the Hand of Greed is something on Clockwork’s list.”

Gotham snarled, her form twisting angrily. “No, you shouldn’t be using any of your abilities. The risk is too great.”

Hesitating, Danny warred with himself. On one hand, he didn’t want to piss off his ghostly host on the first day he stayed with her. That was just bad manners, and he knew Pandora would be disappointed in him if he wasn’t polite. However, not being able to use his powers? Ever, as long as he was inside Gotham’s city? That was just too much to ask for, in his own opinion. Danny could understand not wanting him to use his powers to avoid Gotham’s protector’s wrath, but on a day-to-day basis?

Danny wasn’t too sure if he could do that. His powers were part of him and he thought he was finally going to a place where he wouldn’t have to hide who he was.

At the end of the day, though, Danny wasn’t one to try and piss off his allies. He had made too many enemies over the years to be okay with that.

“I’m sorry, Lady Gotham.” Danny spoke, trying to hide the frustration that had so quickly overtook his fear. “I won’t use my powers in your city - unless I am in my apartment.”

The spirit’s form shifted, considering. “Very well, I accept your apology.” She hesitated, for just a split-second, before continuing. “I think it is time we head back to your haunt, Little One. I still need to teach you how to shift forms and I want you to be prepared for when you meet my protectors in a few days.”

“A few days?” Danny asked, confused. That wasn’t his plan.

“Yes,” Gotham said. “Did you not want to get settled before attempting to lift the artifact?”

Danny shot a confident grin at the City Spirit, his eyes alight with mischief. “I know we just met and all, but did you really think I would do anything else?”

“No,” Gotham conceded. “I will do my best to aid you on your heist tonight, but please be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Danny sassed as he let his playful nature wash back over him. “Show me how to change my outfit?”

“As you wish, Little One.”

ヽ(ಠ_ಠ)ノ

Gotham’s setting sun cast an eerie, dark red light across Jason’s apartment. The rays washed over him, making it look like the man was stained with spilled blood. Dick had just set off with a cheery promise to see the other on patrol before slipping out the door, leaving his younger brother alone for the small amount of time it took for the sun to set. Soon, Gotham City would be cast into the darkness of night, with the city’s criminal elements slowly spilling onto the streets.

It was during the night that Jason always felt the most alive.

Before, when he was still living in a shitty Crime Alley apartment, it was because that was when Willis would go out. The arguments that came from him and Catherine would scare Jason more than the gunshots on the street. At least those were outside the safe walls of his home, but inside? To him, that was where the real danger lurked in the form of two angry adults.

Then, it was the streets. They had never been safe - but now that Jason was truly a part of them, he had to learn the tricks to stay alive. Part of that meant finding a safe place to squat, to wait out the evils that lurked in Gotham’s shadowed nights. The Bat was known for hunting and hurting criminals - something Willis had raged about more than once - and Jason was just a street rat who stole to survive. He had to stay alert during the lonely nights. Streets clouded in darkness just weren’t safe for a kid.

After the streets, it was being Robin. Fighting alongside Batman, helping give others hope and protection, and doing what he could to make his home just a little safer was like magic. He felt alive, freer than he ever had before that. It wasn’t just the adrenaline pumping through his veins or the thrill of leaping between rooftops, it was being able to help his home.

Jason was Gotham, born and bred in the darkest parts of the city’s heart. More than Bruce, or Dick, or even Babs could ever be - so of course he felt more alive in the comfort of night.

Then, he died, and being alive was never the same.

He was learning how to live with it, slowly but surely. The waves of green rage had originally helped Jason feel more alive, a little bit more sane while he struggled to figure out who he was. But even his own mind had betrayed him, at the end of the day. Basking in the pit rage had become an addiction, a high that he could use to finally feel again.

Within the past few months, Jason’s mind had been slowly coming down from the almost three-year stint of using the Lazarus Pit’s “gift” as a metaphorical emotional shield. It had been rough, trying to notice when it was the artificial rage whispering in his ear or his own emotions coming to the forefront.

Now, though? Oddly enough, even when Jason reached for the space he had learned the Pit coiled in, the green never threatened to take over. Throughout Dick’s impromptu forceful brotherly-bonding day, Jason hadn’t felt a single peep from the corner of his mind occupied by the unwanted side-effects of a green, gooey hot tub from Hell.

It was nice to be alone in his own mind again.

These thoughts raced around Jason’s mind as he went about the motions of getting ready for a normal patrol. It was odd, thinking the last patrol he had been on led him to the Batcave. Jason had been expecting to feel at least slightly off-center with the Pit Rage gone from its sulking corner. If anything, though, he felt more normal than he had in years.

As heavy kevlar fell to rest comfortably against Jason’s body, he noticed a bullet hole in the shoulder of his uniform. Eyebrows scrunched in confusion, he examined the damaged spot. That hadn’t been there the last time he donned his metaphorical cape, but Jason was pretty sure he would have noticed if he had been shot.

… He would ask Dick about it during patrol. Maybe that was how he ended up as high as a kitten on catnip?

Slipping his guns into their correct holsters, the young man snatched his bright red helmet from its hidden compartment. An almost feral grin danced across his face - the Red Hood coming out to play was always the highlight of Jason’s day.

When the sun had finished slowly sinking below the smog-filled horizon, Jason meandered down a stealthily hidden passageway to the secret bunker that housed most of Hood’s equipment. He was surprised to find his beloved hotrod-red bike parked in its usual spot – Jason figured he would have used one of his less-used bikes until he was able to get it from the Cave.

He didn’t think too long about it, though, as he grabbed the rest of his gear and dropped down onto the piece of machinery. A loud rev of the engine reverberated between the enclosed walls of his bunker as he pressed a button on one of the bike’s handlebars. Across from him, a large garage door slowly groaned to life. Jason kicked off from the ground, jumping into Gotham’s old tunnel system with practice ease.

The tunnels had originally been part of the Court of Owl’s underground hideouts, but after the Bat-family took down their operations, Red Hood had quickly laid a bright-red claim to them - including the bunker under his building. The tunnel system was near-perfect as it was. Some of it needed a bit of repairs and cleanup, but hidden ways to travel around the major points of Gotham with discreet access points was a resource Jason just couldn’t say no to.

It was through one of these openings that the Red Hood burst into the darkened streets, engine loudly announcing the start of Jason’s patrol to any bystanders who may be in earshot.

He quickly sped through the dimly lit streets, expertly navigating to one of the many areas Jason leaves his bike during the night. Today, he had decided, was going to just be an easy patrol. A nice little stroll through Crime Alley, maybe a stop at one of his favorite twenty-four hour hole in the walls, and then finishing up his night with a well-deserved bath.

With that in mind, the Red Hood grappled up to Gotham’s darkened rooftops, letting the city’s shadows envelope him in a cool, familiar embrace. Street lights flickered noisily, enhancing the darkened figures thrown across well-worn buildings. The great expanse of Gotham’s ever-changing skyline greeted the helmeted vigilante as he began his daily patrol across his home territory.

A thick layer of smog blocked the moon and stars from being seen by the millions of Gothamites, the haze from the day still lingering at the very edges of the giant city. The early spring breeze brought a light chill to the night, making Jason glad he had a layered uniform, unlike when he was a child strutting around in Dick’s old scaly panties.

He tapped the side of his helmet three times, turning on the communication unit built into its protective metals. A quiet chatter of his family greeted him and against his will, Jason felt his shoulders drop just a bit.

“-I’m saying that it’s obvious that Ivy and Harley are going to get married soon.” Dick’s voice was broken up by the sounds of wind sweeping across his speaker, small grunts echoing in Jason’s ear as his older brother danced across rooftops in a well-loved routine.

Stephanie’s response came with the usual hyper rush Jason has learned to associate with his fellow street kid. “And I’m saying that I think they’re going to wait a little longer. We all know how Ivy is about commitments.”

“But she and Harley have been dating for years. If the two of them can survive that tantrum Kiteman had a few months ago, then I think they’re pretty much set for life.”

“Quiet on the line.” Bruce’s gravelly tone was a bit of an unwelcome entry in the friendly banter, making Jason fight to contain the natural tensing of his body. He forced himself to relax, jumping from the roof of a crumbling apartment building and onto an old office building in a much similar state.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, B.” Dick let out a larger grunt, a fleshy sound accompanying it. “Hey guys, mind if I drop in? Seems like you’re all having the party of a lifetime.”

“Fighting on an open line?” Jason drawled, never one to not poke at Dick. “Watch out, Boy Wonder. Daddy-bat’s gonna ground you at this rate.” A single grunt was the only response Jason’s quip earned, making him sneer a bit under his protective hood.

Figures.

Before the gun-slinging vigilante could even get another word in, he heard the “ping” associated with Oracle dragging his communication unit down onto another line. “Hood, I’ve gotten reports of a gang break-in a few blocks from your location. Double back, it’s the building across from where you stored your bike.”

“Of course,” he groaned, but still dutifully skidded to a stop. Jason threw himself into sprinting back across the different roofs he had just parkoured his way over. “Any more information on the situation?”

“Negative.”

“Wonderful.”

It took him a few minutes, but soon Jason was back in the general area where he had started his night. “Is it the jewelers or the pawn shop?” Jason asked the quiet line, staring down at the littered streets.

“The jewelers,” Babs said. “Footage is showing four guys, their getaway driver is waiting outside near the back. Dark blue van. Best to proceed with the burglars then the driver, from what I can see.”

“Got it, going in now.”

“Good luck.”

The large vigilante dropped down in front of the store, scanning through the broken glass. He could barely see the four figures shoving anything they could grab into worn duffle bags. From what Jason could tell, none of them were armed – meaning he was quick to slip sneakily through the opening they had made when one’s back was turned. It was his odd hybrid training that allowed him to move so quickly and silently when his body mass was constantly working against him.

Hood snuck up behind a robber who was rooting around a now-broken glass case. The vigilante’s quiet movements served him well as he suddenly struck his arms out, grabbing the masked civilian around the throat. The man made an aborted shout, alerting his friends to the vigilante among their ranks as the Red Hood turned them around. Now with the thug between himself and his buddies, Jason tightened his forearm against the warm neck he held hostage.

“I’m only going to say this once,” Jason’s modulated voice rippled over the thieves. “Surrender or you’ll end up like chucklefuck here.” With the end of his statement, he tightened his grip and swept the other man’s legs out from under him, Jason placing one of his own legs between to keep his prey unsteady.

The thief in his arms started babbling pleads as he desperately squirmed in Hood’s grasp. His friends cautiously lowered their bags, one even going as far as to show Jason his free hand.

“Easy now,” The one furthest from the door said. “We’re just tyin’ ta put food on t’ table.”

“That’s understandable,” The masked vigilante said in a tone laced with half-fake sympathy. “But there’s better ways to go around getting money than robbing stores. Surrender and I’m sure prison’ll teach ya’.”

“Yeah,” The far guy spoke up again. “Not gonna happen, cape.” With that, the dude kicked a heavy rock at Jason with surprising accuracy, forcing him to let go of the squirming criminal in his grasp. As much as Jason would be fine with the dude getting a concussion, he’s sure the other bats would not be so chill about it.

The thief that was caught in Jason’s grapple was busy running, trying to make an epic getaway. It gave Jason time to pull out his handgun and a warning shot was fired, putting a smoking hole into the floor in front of the fleeing robber. The man, to his credit, didn’t flinch at the loud noise and instead kept gunning for the exit where his friends were waiting for him.

With a curse, Jason realized a bit late that the three of them were almost at the door – which he noticed had been disarmed. He slipped his gun back into its rightful place before he raced after the three thieves. As they ran through the store, jumping over jewelry cases and feeling his boots slide across scattered glass shards dusting the floor like deadly fallen snow. The vigilante pulled out a bola set from where it was hanging on his utility belt, aimed as best he could while running, and threw it with terrifying accuracy towards the first criminal in the fleeing line.

The bolas caught on the robber’s legs, drawing them up short. With a panicked shout, the man went down like a live oak – with a heavy crash and shaking limbs. The two behind him stumbled to a frightened stop, obviously startled. Jason used those couple precious milliseconds to gain ground on the group, already planning his next move. A gloved hand reached back towards his belt, gripping onto his last bola set. By the time he was re-noticed by the criminals, he was mere feet away from the trio. One of them let out a surprised noise, fleeing the scene and leaving his friends behind. It was him that Jason aimed his bolas at, easily letting the capture weapon fly and snag the wayward robber.

The last one had been trying to help his friend out, on his knees with a knife frantically sawing through the rope binding his buddies’ legs. When Jason was close enough, he pulled the man up by the back of his jacket and punched him across the nose. The squirming criminals’s hands came up to clutch at the bruised cartilage and Jason slapped Bat-grade handcuffs across his wrists.

“Now,” Jason said as he dropped his prey. He turned to look at the other two, focusing on the man at his feet while the one in his hands squirmed around. “Maybe it’s nap-time for some naughty boys.”

“Let us go, Hood!” The man in his hands yelled, drawing Jason’s attention. “C’mon, man, we got families! Don’t throw us in jail!”

“You should have thought of that before you decided crime was your best option.” The helmeted man practically growled. “What would your family say if they found out this was the way you made your money? Huh?”

“Don’t be so naïve, Hood,” The man on the floor snarled.

“How about you shut up, huh?” Jason snapped, looming over the other. He dropped the handcuffed guy next to the one on the floor before manhandling the un-handcuffed guy around to turn him into a newly-minted handcuff guy. “Time to take care of your last pal, boys.” But when Jason lifted his head towards the exit of the darkened store, all he saw was his now-sawed bolas and a wide-open door. “Oh you have got to be shittin’ me.”

With a quick tap to his helmet, Hood rejoined the open line Gotham’s vigilantes used to alert when a crime was stopped as he ran through the open doorway. “Oracle, got two of the four. They’re locked up in cuffs, in pursuit of the others.”

“Noted,” Bab’s steady voice filled Jason’s ears. “I’ve got eyes on their get-away car and contacted GPD - so far they’re heading south through the Bowery.”

“Got it. Do I have time to grab my bike or am I using the Rooftop Express tonight?”

“Get the bike, they’re not slowing down.” Oracle paused for a split-second, no doubt cross-referencing the activities of all the vigilantes roaming the streets. “Red Robin will cut them off if they start heading east.”

Red Hood huffs as he spots his bike, having raced over from the now-destroyed shop. “Sounds good,” he started his bike with a deafening cry from the engine, adrenaline pumping through the ex-crime lord’s veins. It was odd, to be so excited for a chase and not feel r agerageragerage  in the far corners of his mind, threatening to cloud his thoughts with mindless violence. “Streets?”

As Oracle rattles off the street name Hood’s suspects are using to attempt to get away, the man uses his modified bike to its greatest potential. Weaving through traffic was something Jason was used to - it was as natural as grappling across rooftops for the young man. To slip between cars while traveling at high speeds was a rush he craved. Add in the hunt of criminals? Well, Jason was as happy as a Bat with a cold case.

When Jason spotted the criminal’s van, they were deep into the heart of Gotham. He had chased them through the Bowery, over the Robins Bridge. Gotham itself was a city made up of multiple islands - each broken up by different inlets bleeding into the Gotham Bay. Sprang River separated the northernmost parts of Gotham from the older parts of the city, like the Upper East Side, Diamond District, and University District. As soon as Barbara informed Jason that his suspects were heading through the Upper East Side, a plan started to formulate.

The Upper East side was broken into a grid pattern, much like how New York City was. If Jason could speed through the lesser-used streets parallel to 35th, then there was a chance he could cut them off. A quick one-handed pat down of his bike’s stylish saddlebags confirmed he had a set of tire spikes. Hidden under his hood, an excited smile grew.

“Hey, Oracle,” Jason cut off the red-headed wonder’s listing of streets. “I’m going to spike the van. What’s the traffic lookin’ like?”

There was a pause before a resigned sigh filtered through Red Hood’s helmet. “Traffic is mostly clear, they’re closing in on Robinson Park now. Best thing to do is try and get them in that area - it gives me time to stop traffic around there.”

“Perfect,” Hood purred as he pushed his bike faster, expertly weaving around the late-night commuters. In just a few minutes, Hood got the confirmation from Oracle that now was a good time to enact their plan. With a quick twist of his body, Jason’s bike dodged between skyscrapers as he burst onto the main road in the Upper East Side. The criminal’s van was just barely behind him and, having no time to maneuver, ended up driving over the spikes Red Hood threw into the road.

A pop and the eerie screeching of machinery enveloped Jason’s senses as his prey struggled to keep their getaway vehicle under control. When it finally crashed into a light pole, an odd quiet seemed to brush over the city. With an expert flick of his foot, Jason lowered his bike’s kickstand before stalking over to the smoking van. He brought a padded elbow up, smashing the window in a practiced move. As glass fell like a dangerous snow, he paused to take in the sight of the criminals before him.

The van’s airbags had deployed, leaving his two runaways unconscious in their seats. With a huff, the vigilante opened the driver’s door. He checked over the two thugs with practise ease, making sure there were no injuries he may need to know about before moving them out of their now-busted van.

“Got them, Oracle,” Hood said, pulling the two men out of the van. He set them a few feet away, zip-tying their hands and feet together. “Cops on their way?”

“They’ll be there in two minutes. Any chance you can pick up the spikes?”

“Sure,” Jason agreed easily, sauntering his way down the street. He could see the faraway headlights of cars heading his way as he rolled up the spikes. As the black-haired man secured them back into the saddlebags, he heard the distant sound of sirens.

“You best get a move on, Hood,” Oracle cautioned. Typing joined her speech, urgency picking up in her voice as she directed him. “Looks like there’s been a break-in at the History Museum. You’re the closest unoccupied.”

“Seriously?” Jason groused, hopping back onto his bike. He left the criminals in a trail of exhaust right as the Gotham Police Department showed up. The vague threats they made followed the Red Hood as he sped towards the University District. “You know I hate that place.”

“Well, sucks to suck. Batman and Robin are currently chasing down a lead on Penguin’s drug trade, otherwise I would send the two of them.”

Hood paused, his brain going to places he definitely did not want it going. “New lead or the one from yesterday?”

“New lead - Red Robin and Orphan picked it up while you were indisposed.” With a sigh, Hood parked his bike in a random alleyway, taking note of the streets near it. The large man grappled his way up to the roof of the building before starting to parkour his way towards the museum, grumbling the entire way.

It wasn’t that Jason didn’t want to stop a thief, or that he was embarrassed about being drugged the other day. No, it wasn’t that. A fight was something Jason pretty much welcomed every night he donned his guns and helmet. The museum was simply too full of times before. Before he had died, when things were just a bit easier. When it was just him, Dick, Bruce, and Alfred. Back when he wore the scaly panties and hid in Batman’s cape. When banter and quips thrown at villains came easier to him, when he thought Batman would always be there to catch him when Jason fell.

He couldn’t help but wonder what had changed about the museum since the last time he was there, six years ago, stopping Catwoman with Batman. From doing his best to ignore the flirting between his father mentor and the thief.

Now, instead of the hand-me-down Robin uniform, it was the Red Hood armor Jason wore to strike down a thief.

Jason’s musing cut off as he landed hard on the roof across from the museum. The vigilante rolled into a light jog, shaking off the pain racing through his knees. He could see the top of his targeted building, stopping at the edge of the rooftop he was occupying to try and get a better view.

He needed to figure out what caused the alarm to trip on the building in the first place. It didn’t seem like the type of area one of the usual Gotham Rogue Gallery would target for any occasion. Maybe Catwoman, but Jason didn’t know of any jewels in any exhibit that she would try to steal.

“Do you have any information on who might’ve broken in? I can’t think of anything Catwoman would try to get her hands on.” Jason asked as he kept a moving eye on the building across from him.

A thoughtful hum came from the other side of the transmission. “I’m looking at the CCTV footage now. The person who broke in is still inside, and appears to be wearing a dark, hooded outfit. White accents as well - whoever it is, they’re not one of our usuals.” 

Jason cocked his head, body lighting up with a curiosity he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Roger, going in now. Might as well figure out who it is.” Aiming his grapple gun towards a secure part of the museum’s building, he triggered the mechanism with a satisfying pop and whirr. With an ease born from being a Bat, he jumped off the rooftop - soaring above the late-night foot traffic with a small thrill.

Oracle’s voice crackled as she spoke. “Hood, wait for at least one other to arrive before engaging. All CCTV footage is corrupted - this guy must’ve used a localized EMP of some sort, and depending on how strong it is, we might lose contact.”

“I thought the others were occupied?” The man questioned as he landed on top of the museum’s roof. He dropped to a crouch, surveying the space around him.

The Gotham Museum of Natural History was a building made up of pale stone. It had large, rectangular columns racing up the sides to form a grand entrance. The museum was split into four sections: the main part, and then three add-on sections that all intersected at the circular part of the building. While the roof was relatively flat, a massive glass dome rose from the main section with various skylights scattered around the add-ons. It may look cool but, as all the Gotham vigilantes knew, it created many escape routes for various villains to use. Without counting the many, many windows the building boasted.

“Batman and Robin are. Red Robin just finished up with a mugging and Nightwing is heading north. ETA is roughly ten minutes for each.”

Jason shook his head, creeping along the roof. “When did the break-in happen?”

Oracle paused, her silence speaking a thousand words. “About thirteen minutes ago.”

“So they’re probably finishing up grabbing whatever it is, already.” Red Hood kept his eyes out for any sign of break in, eyes expertly scanning the terrain around him.

“Assuming they’re as fast as Catwoman? Yes.”

Jason’s mouth opened to respond when movement through one of the northern add-on’s skylight caught his attention. The Hood hurried his way over, making sure to keep out of sight. As he got closer, static filled his ears. The noise was loud and startled the black-haired vigilante enough for him to quietly curse as he quickly moved to turn off the horrendous noise blasting through the casing covering his skull. Definitely a localized EMP, he thought as he settled next to the skylight to watch the thief.

While Jason typically had decent sight, through the glass he could only describe the person as whispy, almost like the window prevented him from having a clear view. He could barely make out a pitch-black cloak covering the person’s back as they lifted an object from its display pedestal.

Knowing time was running out and not wanting to let this new thief get away, Hood unlatched the skylight with a trick Batman taught him years ago - back when he was still learning the ropes of being Robin. Hooking his grapple claw onto the skylight’s edge, the ex-crime lord silently lowered himself down the large drop as quietly as he could. Even though there was next to no sound of the grapple’s mechanics and his landing was as quiet as an assassin’s, the thief’s head whipped around. Startled, glowing neon eyes met Hood’s through his helmet. Fear gripped Jason’s heart as unblinking Lazarus pools bore into his very soul.

I should’ve waited, Jason thought hysterically as the vigilante and thief stared at each other.

(((ꏿwꏿ;)))

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-down AU Part 23

Part 1  Part 22

Plans are made around Eddie. They talk about traps, and blood, and trips to the army surplus store. But Eddie’s not there: he’s in his trailer, curled up on his single bed with Steve, trading truths like the world is ending. He wants Steve. He wants Uncle Wayne. 

He stands from the table, voices cease around him as all eyes look up. “I’m going to get Wayne.” He looks around the table. Will still looks too trusting, and Jonathan and the red-head look uncaring, but Nancy is biting her lip like she’s got something to say.. “What, Wheeler?” he asks, combative. “What the hell is your problem now?”

Her lips purse, and she crosses her arm atop the table primly. So in control. So dainty and pointed, and clean. Eddie wants to strangle her. “I’m not sure if we should bring any more people into this” 

Eddie has to take a few deep breaths. “As the reigning authority on all things that crawl out of our new hell creature feature, you need me,” he says. “And I’m going to get my Uncle Wayne.”

Nancy’s nose scrunches, mouth snarling even as she keeps her lips shut. The red-head sighs, standing as well. “He’s not going to budge, let’s just go.” 

Eddie wants to leap over this table and kiss her straight on the lips. Jonathan and Will stand as well. Nancy stays seated for a few moments, glaring at her friend before standing with a huff. “We can’t waste this much time,” she says, striding toward the door, expecting everyone to follow. “We should split up.”

“Said every person in a horror movie before they get brutally murdered,” Eddie mutters. The redhead snorts. No one else notices he talked at all.

“I can go to the army surplus,” Jonathan says. 

“I’ll go with you,” Nancy replies.

“Well, you’ll have to drop us off at my house because I don’t have my car.,” the redhead says.

They all pile back into Jonathan’s car, taking their same seats. It’s a matter of minutes before they’re pulling onto a suburban street and stopping in front of a suburban house and with a suburban car parked in the driveway. The redheaded’s house, presumably, by the way she slides out of the car.

Eddie turns to Will before he leaves. “Will?” he asks.

Will looks between him and Jonathan in the driver’s seat, making eye contact with his brother in the rearview mirror. Something must pass between them because Will turns to him and says, “I’m going to stay with them.” 

It comes out like it hurts. Eddie feels it, too – the way there’s a string tying them together, and each step away from one another pulls it taught. The way the one connecting him to Steve lies flat and dead on the pavement. He doesn’t want to let Will Byers out of his sight. “Okay,” he says, dawdling until the redhead honks impatiently. 

He gets out of the backseat of one car and slides into the passenger seat of another. It’s clean and new. Matches the house and the girl and the life, he bets, before monsters crawled into it.

“You live at the trailer park, right?” she asks, turning the key in the ignition and backing out of the driveway.

“Yeah,” he says. 

The car’s quiet. She doesn’t turn on the radio. Neither does Eddie. 

The girl’s voice breaks it like a shot. “Why are you so focused on Steve Harrington?” She says his name like a curse. He wants to blame her, but he remembers that little kerfuffle in the Harrington backyard before all of this had started. 

Responses run through his mind, unsaid. Things like, he saved my life, or, he looked so scared when that thing broke down his bedroom door, or, he told me things in the quiet of my bedroom that I can’t stop hearing, or, I think he’d rather be dead than alone.

He doesn’t say any of that. It’s too much for this nameless girl who wasn’t there with them when it counted. “He’s not what you think,” he says, not looking over at her to see how the words land.

She’s quiet for a minute, Eddie sits in it. She doesn’t respond until they’re pulling into the entrance to the trailer park. “Coming from you, that might actually mean something,” she says, quiet, like it’s a secret. “Now, which one’s yours?”

He directs her, a right and then a left. Wayne’s truck is in the driveway.

She parks parallel to their small plot, pristine and practiced, probably in driver’s ed. Eddie stares up at his own home, heart beating like a demogorgon is waiting for him inside.

“Four days?” Eddie asks.

A sigh. “Yeah.” She doesn’t reach out, doesn’t comfort him. He’s glad. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

Eddie laughs – it’s all air. “This is the longest I’ve stayed away since I ran away at thirteen.” Wayne’s probably sitting in his recliner right now, a game on, and a bear slowly warming in his palm. “He’ll be scared shitless.”

Eddie gets out of the car and approaches the front door, the girl a step behind. He gets the insane urge to knock. Like four days in a hell made this place alien to him. Like this is no longer his home. Ho opens the door.

He forgot what it smelled like; musty, yeah, but like Wayne’s laundry detergent, and coffee brewed too strong. Like home. There’s staticy cheering coming from the small, piece of shit television in the living room. Wayne’s sitting in his chair, looking at him like a ghost had just walked through his front door.

He looks tired, ragged in a way that’s more than a couple doubles at the plant. The chair’s not reclined. There’s no beer. 

“Wayne?” he says.

Like that’s the kick in the ass he needed, Wayne jumps up, striding over to pull him into a tight hug, palm clasped to Eddie’s neck, bringing him down until his forehead is resting on Wayne’s shoulder.

“You’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do, boy,” he says, gruff. 

Eddie laughs straight from his lungs. “I missed you,” Eddie says, quiet enough for his ears alone.

The redhead clears her throat from where she’s dawdling at the front door. Wayne pulls away, keeping his hands on his shoulders and holding him at arm’s length like he might disappear if Wayne doesn’t keep two hands on his person. “Who’s your friend, son?” he asks, reprimanding for the lack of manners.

“Oh, uh, Uncle Wayne this is–” he stops talking entirely, looking at the girl with wide eyes as he suddenly realizes he doesn’t know her name.

She rolls her eyes. “Barbara Holland, sir,” she says, reaching out a hand for Wayne to shake. Wayne does, tightening his other hand on Eddie’s shoulder in the process.

Eyes shifting between the two, Wayne asks, “You got something to tell me?”

Apparently that’s all it takes to break him. He’s crying again. Hard and ugly, snot immediately clogging his sinuses. “So, much Uncle Wayne,” he says around his tears. It comes out like he’s choking. “I have so much to tell you.”

“Alright, alright,” Wayne says, gruff, even as he leads Eddie to the couch, welcoming Barbara to make herself at home with a wave of her hand. “How ‘bout you start with taking some breaths, huh?”

It takes time they don’t have to spare for Eddie to regulate his breathing like Wayne taught him, and by the time he’s calmed, he feels like a dishrag, wrung out and used. Barbara’s sitting at the kitchen table, analyzing her nails so critically that he can almost pretend she wasn’t here for his breakdown at all.

“Now, tell me,” Wayne says, like he always does. The same gravity over a scraped knee or a failed test as coming out as queer or moving states to live with Wayne permanently. It’s all important. 

“I went to hell, Wayne,” he says, unable to meet his eyes. Maybe this is the thing that’ll finally stretch his Uncle’s credulity past recognition. “There was this thing, and it dragged me to hell.”

“You Catholic now, boy?” Wayne asks. 

Eddie sputters, indignation and laughter mixing, and when he looks up at Wayne, he looks just the same. Just like his Uncle who would follow him to hell if he asked, who would believe him if he said the detention wasn’t his fault. Every time, no questions. 

“Maybe not hell,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But it was somewhere else, and I left Steve there.”

“We left Steve there,” Barbara said, as if she’d been on the other side at all. 

Wayne looks between the pair, brow furrowed. It’s a small town. This won’t take him long. “...Steve Harrington?” he asks, incredulous.

“He saved my life,” Eddie says, knowing nothing will convince his uncle quicker.

Wayne looks at him the way he always does, intense and searching, but trusting. On his side, no matter what. “You got a plan?”

“Yes,” Eddie says just as Barbara says, “a stupid one.”

“Well, I ‘spose you’ll be needing this old man’s help.” He leans over and pulls his shotgun out from behind his recliner, laying it across his knees. “Let’s go save your guardian angel.”

Part 24

[storiesforallfandoms]

just for us ~ johnny depp

word count: 1790

request?: yes!

“Hii can you please write a Johnny Depp imagine where its the 90s, you are both famous, and the press keeps beging you  expose your relationship?”

description: being famous at such a young age makes it hard to keep anything a secret, but you’re determined to make sure your relationship is just for the two of you and not for the media

pairing: young!johnny depp x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n, rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

I started acting when I was five years old. It was a commercial, and I had all of 30 seconds of screen time. But that 30 seconds was enough to impress the director apparently, because two years later when he was hired to direct some new sitcom, he called my parents looking to cast me as one of the main kids. The show only lasted one season, but one season was all it took to kickstart my career.

Becoming an actor at such a young age meant losing a “normal” life. I never went to normal school, normal prom or graduation. I never really had normal friends, just co-stars and other child actors. And I never had any privacy. Once I became a household name, privacy went completely out the window as I was followed by paparazzi and fans daily. Not to mention the creeps who came out in droves when I turned 18.

Nothing in my life was private. Nothing except Johnny.

We met on set of a movie we were working on together, and I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him that I was going to fall for him. I tried not to. Dating as a celebrity was basically impossible, even more so when it was with another celebrity. But i couldn’t stop myself, and when he told me he had fallen for me too, I was a goner.

Being a fellow actor, Johnny knew exactly how to keep our relationship a secret. He knew which restaurants had the most hidden away seating, which ones had the most private parking so we could actually show up and leave together. He knew how to sneak in and out of my place without paparazzi noticing, and how to do the same with me at his place.

It worked for a long time. Like, two years at least. No one had any idea we were together. Until a fan spotted us out together. They didn’t see us acting like a couple, but apparently us hanging out together years after our movie had come out was suspicious enough to get the rumor mill going. Suddenly, every interview we did had us asked at least once about our relationship. But we never broke. We kept insisting we were just friends, and we kept our relationship a secret.

It was early in the morning when my alarm clock started to blare. I groaned as I rolled over to turn it off. The bright red numbers read “7:00am”. I groaned again, sleep fighting to take me again.

I smiled as Johnny wrapped me in his warm embrace and kissed my neck. “Why are we awake so early?”

“I have a morning interview at 9,” I told him. “I gotta get up and get ready.”

He squeezed me a little tighter. “Absolutely not.”

“I have no choice, J. I can’t cancel so close to the interview.”

“Just don’t show up. Problem solved.”

I turned in his arms to face him. His eyes were still drooping with fatigue, but he was trying his best to focus on me. I smiled at him and kissed his nose.

“You can stay here and sleep,” I told him. “I’ll be back by the time you wake up.”

“You better be,” he sleepily muttered.

I chuckled and finally wiggled free from his grasp.

Getting ready for interviews never took long. I didn’t have to do my makeup because the studio makeup artist would do it for me when I got there, and an outfit was chosen for me by my stylist prior to the day. All I had to do was get breakfast, clean myself up, and get dressed in my pre-chosen outfit. I was brushing my teeth when I heard a car horn honking outside, signaling that my ride to the interview had arrived.

I took one last peak into my bedroom. Johnny was sound asleep again. I smiled and quietly moved to my bed. I placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before rushing out the door as the car honked again.

I was rushed through the makeup and placed in an uncomfortable chair within 20 minutes. I tried not to shift too much in an attempt to find a comfortable position. Morning talk shows always had the worst chairs for some reason.

The host walked onto set and greeted me cheerily. I smiled back at her, wishing I had her chipper energy for so early in the morning.

I wonder how many cups of coffee she’s had.

She sat down across from me and we were given the five minute warning. I adjusted myself in my seat one last time, then smiled as the cameraman announced we were live.

“Good morning everyone, and welcome to our special guest, (Y/N),” the host said, gesturing to me. The crowd cheered as I smiled and waved to them. “Thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for having me. I’m so excited to be here!”

The host asked me about my new movie, and I went over the talking points I had been given for every interview. It was going as smoothly as most interviews did, until the host said, “I have to ask, is there anyone special in your life?”

I kept the smile on my face, but I was sure it looked much more strained now. “Nope. I’m absolutely single pringle.”

“Really? There’s not even anything going on with you and Johnny Depp?”

I glanced over at my manager, who looked about ready to shut the whole interview down. Most celebrities have a few off limits questions that interviewers are told they can’t ask about. It’s usually super personal and private stuff that they want to keep private. For me, the one topic that was off limits was Johnny. It wasn’t just because we wanted to keep our relationship a secret, but it was also because my management and I didn’t want all my interviews to suddenly be just about Johnny and not about my work.

It was clear from the look on my manager’s face that this host was told my limitations, and she was choosing to ignore them. This was her attempt at getting a huge scoop before anyone else so that she could boost the ratings of her show.

I knew I couldn’t just stop the interview. It was a live show, stopping would just cause a scene that I knew would do more harm than good. So, I took a very subtle deep breath and said, “Johnny has been my friend since we worked together years ago. There’s nothing more between us besides friendship.”

“Oh, come on. I know you’re aware of the rumors about you two. Everyone is dying for you to finally confirm that you’re together.”

“Well, everyone will just have to keep waiting because I am not confirming what’s not true. Also, I think it’s incredibly disrespectful and invasive to keep pushing this topic when Johnny and I have both said we aren’t dating and like to have our privacy. I don’t get many things that are just for me, but I want my relationship to be one of those things.”

My manager whispered something to the cameraman, who then signaled for the show to go to commercial. Once the cameras were off, my manager demanded for me to be un-miced so we could leave. I ignored the host’s apologies as the crew took off my mic and my manager beckoned for me to come with her.

As we left the studio, she nudged my shoulder and said, “You handled that amazingly, kid.”

I had no other obligations for the day, so my driver took me back home. I was happy to be back in the comfort of my own home after that interview.

The smell of food greeted me at the door. I smiled at myself as I made my way to the kitchen. As I expected, Johnny was stood at the stove, cooking up some breakfast. He was still in his pajama pants with no shirt on. I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He leaned into my touch, allowing me to place a kiss on his bare shoulder.

“You’re back early,” he said.

“The interview was cut short,” I responded.

“So I heard.” I looked up at him in confusion. “I woke up just in time to turn on the interview.”

I groaned. “So you saw the whole thing?” He nodded. I buried my head in his shoulder. “We told her not to ask, I swear.”

He moved in my arms, turning so he could face me. He wrapped his arms around me, too, as I moved mine around his neck instead.

“I think you handled that whole situation very well,” he said. “It was pretty clear you were caught off guard by the question, but you still handled it maturely and with more respect than I think she deserved.”

“I wasn’t going to cause a scene over it, even though I really wanted to just walk out if she had asked.”

“Would’ve made for better television if you had just stormed out.”

“You’re right. It’s probably best that I didn’t then.”

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss me. Any tension I had left from that day immediately melted the moment his lips touched mine.

“We’ll have to tell people eventually,” I said with a sigh, resting my head against his. “We can’t keep this a secret forever.”

“We’ve done so for two years.”

“Yeah, but we’ve already gotten caught once. There’s just no proof of us actually being together for the tabloids to run with. But if we slipped up once, it can happen again. Then we’ll have to tell people about us.” I sighed and added, mainly to myself, “We’ll ever get a moment of peace again.”

“It’ll happen eventually, but until then I’m happy to have our private moments,” Johnny said. He kissed the top of my head and added, “But the day I get to loudly say you’re mine will be a good day for me. I want everyone to know eventually that I have the most amazing woman as my girlfriend.”

“You’re gonna make me blush.”

“Good.”

He kissed me again, but pulled away quicker than I wanted. I tried to pull him back in, but he just shook his head and smiled. “I don’t want the food to burn. The last thing we need is everyone finding out we’re dating because I burned your house down.”

I chuckled. “Okay, you have a point.”

“Are you hungry? I made enough for the two of us.”

I nuzzled close to him as he turned back to the stove. “I’ll never say no to your cooking.”

[the-californicationist]

The Fourth of July

Another gift fic for another awesome friend of mine! Stockings are getting stuffed left and right this year. <3 <3

Alex/FReader - foreign reader, blowjob/Facefuck, spit kink, soft!Alex

You are celebrating your first July 4th with Alex and his friends at your brother's lake house. Seeing the booming fireworks, eating hotdogs, and drinking out of those red solo cups - just like the movies - has been so much fun. But, you and Alex get a little carried away in the pool house.

MDNI/18+

AO3 Link

When he picked you up for the party, Alex looked like he was Mr. USA. His fluorescent blue swim trunks were short, the hem sitting high on his huge, muscular thighs, showing off his carbon fiber leg. The arms of his old Army tee shirt were sliced open, giving you a view of his endless, tanned skin. His ribs and abs rippled beneath the surface as he parked the Silverado in the road and hopped out of it to greet you. 

You’d never wanted to run your hands through a shock of hair so badly in your life, buried under a bright red trucker cap with the bill turned backwards. He was smacking his gum loudly, and he was already sunburnt across his nose. 

“Hey, there. You ready for some freedom?”

You smiled, enjoying his American accent,

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I think.”

“C’mon. Your brother’s waitin’ for us at the house. Got about fifty pounds of barbeque workin’ on the pit, I’ll bet.”

He grabbed your bag and threw it into the back of his truck before grabbing your arm and helping you into the lifted cab of the vehicle. Your swimsuit coverup billowed in the wind, and he gently gathered it up for you, moving it away so it wouldn’t get caught in the heavy door. 

Alex pulled himself into the driver’s seat, flexing his tattooed forearms as he settled into position, gripping the wheel tightly. As you looked closer, you started to notice little scars, nothing major. But, you were always quick to forget what his day job was: CIA war machine. He threw on a pair of hot-pink sunglasses with a floater neck strap attached, and handed you his spare pair. You slipped them on, feeling much cooler than you thought you should. As you pulled onto the road, he cranked up the music until you couldn’t even hear yourself think. 

You took the opportunity of being bathed in sound to study him from across the center console of the truck. The landscape of America - strip centers and wooded fields - rushed by you unadmired, and you were trapped by him. You thought you’d gotten away with a long, delicious appraisal, but he flipped his glasses down his nose and peeked over them at you. The look in his eye made you blush. 

He turned the music down and stared at you while the huge truck idled at a red light. His voice was nice and even as he asked,

“What are you lookin’ at, darlin’?”

“Nothing,” you tried to be dismissive, playing coy but doing it badly. 

An enormous, rough hand grabbed you around your knee,

“Nothin’? Like what you were wearin’ in that snap you sent me last week, nothin’?”

You blushed pink. The light turned green. Alex stayed staring at you, squeezing your leg, until someone behind him honked, and even then he took his sweet time. 

“Mmhm,” you said, waiting for his next move as he drove onward, revving the truck’s angry engine.

“Did you tell him yet?” Alex asked, threading his fingers through yours as you captured it from your lap..

“No,” you laughed under your breath, “I think you’d have known by now if I had.”

He laughed with you, readjusting his cap,

“I think I’d have a black eye by now.”

You grimaced in reply, knowing your brother’s temper. He wouldn’t be thrilled to see you flirting with his best friend from when he was enlisted. Alex saw you frown, and he held your hand a little tighter, saying,

“Worth it.” 

You drew in a tight breath and looked over at him. His gaze stayed on the road this time, pushing the speed limit, taking the exit to the lake. 

You’d known Alex Keller ever since your brother moved to Clearwater. Your brother, Charlie, had studied at university and he had fallen in love with a man who was in Alex’s old regiment. They’d gotten married, and now, Charlie had his green card and everything. All of Alex’s friends and army buddies had brought Charlie into the fold. He was even driving a Ford F-150 these days. If it wasn’t for his Kiwi accent, he could’ve passed as a true American. 

You tried to come over to see Charlie and his husband, Greg, every summer. But, with the restrictions in place, it had been a few years. This would be a happy reunion as long as he didn’t discover the relationship blooming between you and his best friend, Alex. 

It had been an accident, really. Charlie had lost his phone, and Alex had called you by accident, trying to find it. Then, you had just…kept calling. They were late night talks for you, and early morning talks for him, but you and Alex just seemed to have so much to say to each other. When he flew out to Urzikstan for dangerous missions, or over to Russia to do God knows what, he would always send you back some little trinkets from his trip. 

You knew it was a lie. You knew, in your heart, that he had been over there killing people and saving the world from whatever horrors were terrorizing those deep, dark places. But, when you got a little glass camel figurine in the mail, its box covered in a million stamps, you put it on your window sill and watched the light dance through it like it hadn’t been shipped from some sort of master of war. But, if you were truly honest with yourself, you didn't give a shit. 

You’d been talking for about six months now, and the build up to your trip was intense. The anticipation was killing you both. Seeing him now, feeling the bones of his hand in yours as you massaged the tiny muscles inside of his palm, it was all too much. You needed Charlie to understand that you had fallen madly in love with his best friend.

“I think we should tell him,” Alex said, interrupting your thoughts.

“Shit,” you scoffed, “He’s gonna lose it.”

“I don’t want to keep hiding you away. And maybe…” you heard the familiar tones of doubt in his throat, “Maybe I’m not the kind of man your brother wants for you. But, I can be.”

You kissed the back of his hand, letting the tiny hairs tickle your skin. The lake house wasn’t far, but you wanted to reassure him more than just chaste affection. 

“I’m eager to see the kind of man you can be,” you turned the seduction up to eleven, hoping he wouldn’t immediately laugh at you. 

He didn’t laugh. If anything, other than a flash of panic in his eyes, he didn’t move. He allowed you to flip his hand over, its wide palm facing the sky as you planted kiss after kiss onto his skin. You felt his breathing quicken, rippling through his limbs. Finally, you took his forefinger into your mouth and began to gently suck on its tip. It was salty, and probably unclean, but you didn’t care. You kept going, moving your mouth up and down his thick digit as if it were his cock. And goddamn did you want it to be his cock.

The phone calls had turned flirtatious, and then downright lascivious, in the last few months. Once, while he was hiding in a bunker somewhere in Ukraine, he’d called you, desperate. You listened to him as he pulled hungrily on his cock, letting you listen to the wet slipping sounds of his fist pounding into his skin, searching for release. He’d begged for your mouth. He said it was all he could think about, and the gorgeous little whimpering noises he made had set it in your mind. You dreamed about blowing him for weeks. You thought about how his come would taste when you had been sitting in the terminal and waiting on your plane. You were going to suck the life out of Alex Keller at this fucking party tonight if it was the last thing you ever did. 

“Oh,” his voice was shaking and quiet, “Fuuuuuck.”

One more strong suck on his finger and you let him loose, wiping away the wetness with your hand, lacing your fingers back through his as if nothing had happened. 

His breathing was ragged, and his hand was trembling. The lake house was just up ahead, and as Alex pulled into the drive, he took his hand back from your grip to adjust his growing cock. It looked heavy, and you couldn’t stop staring. 

“Holy shit,” he sighed, “Charles is gonna kill me.”

“I won’t let him,” you smiled. 

“That mouth…” he was still turned on, and his voice was deepened by his arousal.

“Wait til you see what else it can do,” you grinned and popped open your door to greet Charlie. 

Your brother was in a black apron and carrying a set of tongs. He was at least six and a half feet tall and built like an ox. The back of his neck was red from the sun, and he wore his hair up in a poorly coiffed bun. You shut the truck door and he turned around. When he saw you, his face lit up, and he shouted your name across the yard. 

“Kia ora, sister. Look at you! How’s the Air B&B?”

Charlie held you close to his body, hugging you so tight that it hurt. You let it hurt. 

“Fine. I’m starving.”

“It’s coming. Where’s Alex?”

“Grabbing the bags, I think.”

You turned back around and watched as Alex bent into the truck bed and pulled your bag out along with his. He’d let his sunglasses fall around his neck and walked over to you and Charlie. 

“Charles,” Alex smiled, dropping a bag to shake your brother’s hand. 

“Alex, thanks for picking her up. Greg and the boys are down at the dock.”

You spent the day jet skiing and swimming with Alex and all of your brother’s friends. The girlfriends and wives and husbands all introduced themselves, or reintroduced themselves if they had met you before, and Alex stuck by your side through it all. He could have easily abandoned you to go on the fishing trip that most of the other men were keen to take, or he could have hung around Charlie all day since it had been months since they’d seen each other, too. But, he didn’t. He seemed to know that you didn’t want to be alone, and he held you to him in as much as he dared. 

It would be a lie, though, if you two didn’t admit to sharing a stray touch or even a kiss every now and then. You kept finding excuses to be alone together.

Finally, it was nearly fireworks time, and Greg was setting up the array of them. The purple dusk was just settling on the horizon, and you and Alex had front-row seats. He had brought you another icy beer from the cooler, and a towel from inside the house to sit on. You’d positioned yourselves right next to the small pool house, a little away from the crowd. 

The pool house was little more than a small bedroom and a toilet, but it was big enough to block anyone from seeing you two from behind. That way, if someone was looking at you, you’d know it. The excitement of hiding your affection from everyone was exhilarating. 

You had worn your bright pink triangle bikini, and Alex had spent most of the day staring at it. You’d even made him retie the bows a few times, just to torture him. Once, he’d even managed to swipe a finger over your nipple, so you knew that once everyone’s eyes were focused on the exploding sky, it was on. 

Other houses on the lake were popping their own fireworks, and there was a man who was famous for his end-of-the-night show. As Charlie lit more and more of the small ones, you noticed the other houses following suit. It was pretty, and every time a mortar cracked in the sky, you could feel it in your chest. 

Once it became dark enough, you started to rub your hand up and down Alex’s bare thigh. He scooted closer and closer to you like a dog begging for more pets. You obliged him, running your fingers higher and higher until you were disturbing the hem of his shorts. Then, you went for it.

He felt you move your hand to the warm flesh between his legs, and he whispered,

"No, no, wait...oh, fuck..."

You put your hand through the stretchy leg of the nylon trunks and searched for his heavy cock and balls. You ignored his dick at first, rubbing his balls gently, moving them around in your hand, massaging them and feeling his dick fighting for attention above your wrist. 

“Holy fucking shit, woman,” he hissed, fidgeting in his seat, his eyes turned skyward as he gasped as quietly as he could. 

“You enjoying the show?” You asked, acting very casual. 

“Enjoying…Jesus Christ,” Alex furrowed his brow at you and wiped a hand down his face. His eyes shone blue and then green and then red as the colors burst above you.  

Finally, you wrapped your fingers around his swollen rod, nearly three times as large as it had been soft, and started to pump up and down slowly and deliberately. He let out a trembling breath. 

“Baby, baby, baby, please…ah, please.”

“What do you need, Alex?” You whispered, kissing his neck, “Tell me. I wanna hear it.”

“I need your mouth, baby. Please, I’ll do anything,” he kissed you back, his mustache and beard tickling your skin, sending chills down your arms.

You looked over your shoulder at the pool house, and he followed your gaze. Then, you looked back down at the dock and saw Charlie and Greg untangling a huge fireworks display. You had time.

“C’mon,” you stood up quietly and opened up the door to the pool house. 

The two of you snuck in and shut it behind you, still able to see through the small skylight as the fireworks were going off outside. You didn’t wait for him to get settled. In fact, you grabbed Alex by the arm and pulled him into the small room, sinking to your knees on the well-worn rug. You looped your fingers in the waistband of his shorts, and pulled them down. His cock flagged free, bobbing up and down, and he was as hard as a stone. 

“Holy fuck! Wait, wait…oh, fuck!” He tried to catch his balance, and set his hands on your shoulders. 

You stared at his hard length, admiring the velvety smoothness of his skin, looking at his bare, pink head. You could see the scar from his circumcision, and you ran your tongue along the dark line of skin, licking him up and onto his plump, uncovered head. The sound he made from your first contact would be burned into your brain forever. It was a low, dark growl mixed with a sigh that seemed like he had just been relieved from carrying the whole world on his shoulders. Maybe he had. 

You took him into your mouth achingly slowly, looking up at him the entire time you did so, watching his face contort into different stages of blissful agony. He had one hand in his hair, pulling on it at the roots, his hat knocked back, looking like he was in shock. You swallowed him deeper, opening and closing your throat with swallow after swallow, making more and more drool pool in your mouth as you did until it was running out of your lips and down onto your chest. 

Then, you began to bob your head back and forth along as much of his length as you could take, choking yourself with it until it hurt just a little. You tried to relax. You wanted to show him that you could take it all, that you could be his relief. 

You focused on his head, running your tongue over its crest, tasting his salty precome as you lapped over his hole, rubbing the slick back and bumpy front of your tongue across it over and over and over. You used your hand to pump him up and down as you did, shaking him vigorously while he was sucked into your mouth.

Then, just as you were finding a steady, beating rhythm, he took your head in his hands and pulled you off of him. He was panting and ferocious when he whispered to you,

“Oh, my fucking God, baby. You don’t have to —”

“I want to,” you insisted, wrapping your hands behind your thighs and pulling his cock into your lips again. You kissed his head like it was his mouth, making out with his cock, covering him in your spit. 

You felt him take one of the strings of your bikini in his hands and tug. Your top fluttered down, exposing your breasts to the dark room. You moaned.

When you did, he stumbled forward, losing his balance,

“Shit. Baby, I can't...” he begged, catching himself on the side of the end table, his knuckles white and straining to hold up his weight. 

“I’ll let you sit,” you said cheekily, “If you hold my hair for me.”

“Oh, God,” he sank to the bed and laced his fingers through your hair, grabbing the back of your skull. 

You sucked him harder, moaning as you did so, playing with your nipples and feeling your drool run down your chin. 

Alex’s hand was only loosely connected, and you wanted more from him. You pulled away again and looked up at him with the biggest doe eyes you could muster,

“Alex,” you had his attention like a bright fire, “Fuck my face. Please.” 

A snarl came out of his mouth, and he had to put himself back together before he answered you. He used his big hands to pet your hair out of your face, running a thumb across your wet bottom lip with tender care,

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby. This feels so good. I don’t need you to -”

“I need you to. I wanna feel you in my throat.”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Only a little,” you smiled and licked the tip of him again, teasing him.

“If I hurt you, pinch me. Hard.”

You nodded, taking him as deep as you could. Then, when you reached your limit, you felt his hands get tight, shoving you down past your mouth and into your throat. He was still so gentle with you as he moved himself inside of you, fucking you ever so slowly, waiting for your pinch. So, you started to moan and lick and pull him closer with your hands, pushing yourself to the point of gagging. 

He yanked you off of him in a hurry, thinking you were injured. A long, frothy line of drool came out with him, and you spit the rest onto his shaft and returned him to your mouth. Now that you knew that you could go that deep with help, you tried to do it without, and you nearly succeeded. 

Alex was a complete mess above you, and his moans had become high, whining whimpers. With every swallow, with every lick, you earned a new noise. A gasp, a curse, a shaking cry. You played him like an instrument. Loudly.

Finally, you took him all the way in, past even where he had dared to push you, and you buried your nose in his crotch, smelling his hair and sweat and skin. 

“Oh, fucking shit! Fuck that’s deep. Oh, God. Oh, God! Baby!”

He was unraveled like a ball of string, spilling out everywhere. His body betrayed his politeness, and he thrust himself into you once, twice. You watched as the rockets and cannons and mortars all exploded around you in a fiery, rainbow crescendo, he came down your throat, crying for you, whimpering your name, gasping through gritted teeth. 

You counted to ten, trying not to gag, feeling his cock pulsing in your mouth, beating like a heart. Then, you started to get light-headed. So, you pulled back, releasing him in a slobbery, wet mess of come and spit. 

You leaned forward into his lap and began to lick him clean. He shuddered as you did so, shaking and moaning as your tongue touched all of his sensitive places. You saved his head for last. Licking up and down his shaft, cleaning his come from him, tasting his body’s sweet, sticky release. Until finally, you looked up at him with a sly smile. 

He looked down at you in dumb shock as you sucked all the fluid away from his swollen head, and he gasped as you finished the job. You released him with a pop from your lips and smiled, sitting back on your heels and playing with your tits. 

Alex lay on the bed for a while, and you joined him, rubbing his skin under his cutoff tee. He rolled onto his side and greedily suckled on your nipples, kissing your mouth and neck affectionately, fondling you a little more aggressively than you expected. Then, he looked up at the door and back down at you,

“Will you still want me after your brother breaks my nose?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes,

“Sure, I will.” 

“Then, wait here, baby. I’ll be right back.”

[thenyoumightaswellwrestleangels]

Is it death who comes knocking? (is it a curse to always know?)

Day 1 of The Long Halloween - event masterlist here

pairing: damian wayne x reader (gender neutral)

length: 7.5k

genre: horror, fluff kinda, hurt/comfort

warnings: mothman damian, crime scenes, lots of vague / symbolic mentions of death, this is kinda a monsterfucker fic but it's sfw as always, reader gets a little stressy a little hysterical

a/n: daaaaaay one I hope we all like it <3 kiss kiss enjoy

"What are you staring at? Come on, move along -"

"What, am I not allowed to gawk?" you snap, making the young police officer in front of you freeze and blink owlishly. "God knows everyone else is." He glances around at your words, letting his eyes flick frantically over the growing crowds that surround the crime scene as the police lights bathe their stricken faces in red, then blue, and then red again.

The officer keeps speaking, trying his best to bark orders and demand that everyone move along and find something else to do other than stand and stare and poke around a crime scene. But you're not particularly listening anymore. Your head, instead, tips back so that you can look up at the night sky and the towering buildings of Gotham.

A shadow flickers somewhere overhead, as black as the darkened sky. You wonder, for just a moment, if it's him.

The Mothman.

"Go on, really," the officer's defeated sigh makes you snap your head back down to look at him. He arches a brow wearily and, after glancing around to confirm that most of the crowd is still gathered, you narrow your eyes at him. "Get lost."

"I'm just standing here," you press. "Just like everybody else."

"No," he crossed his arms. "I've seen you before. Anytime, anywhere some freak accident happens, anytime somebody dies, you're always here, nosing around." You take a step back at his words, pressing your lips together in annoyance. "Maybe," he says pointedly. "Maybe we should bring you in for questioning."

"For a freak accident?" you quip back. "Incredible use of police resources." You hope that he doesn't notice the way that you sweat at his comment, hope that he can't see the way that your heart hammers and lurches as you spin on your heel and march away, knocking shoulders with people in the crowd.

You hope that he can't see the flickering shadow overhead, and hear the faint sound of wings beating over the breeze.

The Mothman. 

If you ask anyone, he's a myth, a scary story that you tell when you're out in the dark with your friends and you want to give them a good fright.

He's the omen of death, it's believed, and if you see him, you're sure to die. When tragedy is about to strike, when death is about to reign down, the Mothman will appear on the scene, dark and wild and ready to see it through.

As you begin the long walk back to your apartment, you shove your hands into your pockets to ward off the oncoming chill of night, watching as your breath fogs out in front of your face. Flashes of the crime scene that you'd just left play over and over in your mind, the accident and the death and the Mothman, large and looming and deadly as he stares. 

You were so sure… you were so sure that this time, you'd get there quick enough, that this time you'd stop him from killing again. 

You go to step out onto a crosswalk, but an oncoming car honks and the sound makes you jerk back as you blink, stepping back onto the safety of the sidewalk as you shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut.

As if it will help.

As if anything will make you stop seeing the things that you see.

They're visions, you suppose - nightmares of the creature and his killings, vivid, painful flashes and glimpses of the myth and the havoc that he wreaks. 

But the nightmares keep coming true and there's nothing that you can do to stop them. There is never anything that you can do to stop them. You're always just a bit too late, just a minute too slow.

It's crazy, you tell yourself. It's a coincidence. But you keep your lips pressed firmly together, even now as you cautiously peer both ways before hastening across the busy Gotham streets, your feet surer and quicker than the rest of you has ever been. You keep your mouth shut, because the threat of being thrown somewhere like Arkham is too real and terrifying for you to do anything other than spend your days scrambling, running and running and running and falling just short of anything.

You keep your mouth shut, even at night when the visions creep up and you find yourself plagued with images of things that haven't happened yet - deaths that are soon to occur.

And in every one of these visions, it's the Mothman who appears to carry out the killing. You're sure of it. It's always him.

As you step back into your apartment, flicking on the dull, yellow-hued light and standing in the silent entryway with windswept hair and frozen fingers, you think that surely… surely next time you'll get there fast enough. Next time you'll save a life.

But when you wake the next morning, there have been no visions. No twisting and turning agony, no spiralling panic and gasping, sweating fear. There's just… nothing. 

And when you wake the next day, there's nothing. 

And the day after that, and after that, and after that. Just… nothing. You think, sort of hesitantly, like a prey animal spotting food in a trap, that perhaps you've found some sort of freedom. Perhaps you've found a way out.

But then you wake, one day, when the sun is just barely cresting over the horizon and beginning to spill golden light onto the twisted, frantic city below, and your heart hammers in your chest as your lungs burn. Images of the dreams that you'd had, of the twisted visions that haunted you come to the surface, flashing through your mind over and over and -

And you grip your blanket with one hand while the other flies over your mouth so that you can muffle your own panicked breathing, so that you can smother any sound that you make. 

Because this vision was different. This time… this time you saw him, with clawed hands and feathered wings, climbing through your open window and stepping onto your faded, wooden floors. This time, the Mothman is in your home, and he is going to come to kill you, you're sure.

It's a panicked sort of thing, the way that you rip the blankets off of your frame so that you can launch out of bed and stumble into your living room to reach for the open window. You think frantically back to the visions and remember only the window, wide open like a maw, and spilled water on the hardwood floor, as if something was knocked over on his way in.

This has to be the window, you think to yourself as you slam it shut, locking the latch roughly. This has to be it, you think as you glance at the vase of flowers on the window ledge, the water reflecting the early morning light and shining through the glass.

And then surely, you think as you step back, twisting your hands nervously in front of you, surely he can't get in. Surely death cannot come for me today.

But perhaps you should've learned, by now, that not even you can stop death.

The way that you creep back to your bedroom is careful, and you stop in every other room to close and latch the windows shut - just as a precaution, just as a final safeguard.

The tension that sits in your shoulders and keeps your body taut has begun to ease a bit, and you've begun to feel like you can breathe again for the first time all morning, when you step back into the doorway of your bedroom.

That's when you see it. Your bedroom window has been opened, and the glass of water on your nightstand, right next to the window, has been knocked over, spilling onto the hardwood floor.

So it's then that you realize… you'd gotten the window wrong. He slinks through the shadows, you know, only appearing right before the death. If you'd just stayed in your room… he never would've just climbed into your home right in front of you.

Your hands begin to tremble and your breath freezes in your lungs as you realize that you only thought that you were closing him out, while you were really just letting him in.

And then it really hits you. 

There's something in your home, and it's here to kill you. 

You stand, frozen, your breath stuttering in and out as you stare at the open window and the cool morning breeze that wafts in, blowing your curtains out into billowing waves. You stand and you wait and you consider all of the places he could be hiding, all of the ways that he could climb out of the shadows and drain the life from you.

But time ticks by… seconds into minutes and nothing… happens. There's no sight of him, no noise of him. It's like he's not even really there. You begin to think, in a rather hysterical sort of way, that perhaps you really have just gone crazy, perhaps there's never been anything here at all. 

When your doorbell rings and the sound echoes shrilly through your home, it's enough to make you jump, your heart clenching painfully as you spin around to peer down your hallway and eye your front door. It's not real, you think. He's not real. You go to step out of your bedroom, chanting the mantra over and over in your head, but it's not quite loud enough to distract from the noise that can be heard from somewhere behind you - a rustling, soft sort of thing. 

By the time you've spun around to face the window again, it's been… shut. The window's shut and your glass is placed carefully back in its rightful place on your nightstand. And you swear… you swear that you see a blur of bluish-black feathers zipping away out of the corner of your eye.

The days begin to crawl on after that, the city curling in on itself and crushing you in a way that it never has before. You start sleeping with your windows locked, of course, circling the interior of your home day after day to make sure that every latch is secure and every curtain is drawn. But try as you might, there is nowhere for you to run from the visions, and they morph into spiralling images of his large, clawed hands tapping and scraping at the glass of your windows, begging to be let in. 

"Look, you really can't be here," the officer's voice is dull in your mind, somewhere far off and vacant.

"Hm?" you acknowledge as you crane your neck to look past him, staring at the yellow tape circling the newest crime scene in a tangled maze-like pattern. 

"Just… go home. You shouldn't see this. No one should." That makes you pause, makes you look at the officer and blink and stare until he sighs and wanders off.

No one should have to see this, you think, his words ringing through your mind. But you do see it, nonetheless. 

Go home, he says, the weight of it all echoing through you. How could you? When the Mothman haunts your dreams and threatens to claw his way into your home at night? You see it still, every time that you close your eyes  - countless swirling images of him in your apartment. They confuse you, and it makes you groan and rub your temples with your fingers as the officer glances back at you where you stand on the sidewalk, ever the onlooker, ever the bystander.

This accident… you'd seen this one too, of course. And you'd seen him, the Mothman. It's the same every time. He appears in your visions, looming like a towering symbol, and then someone dies. Every time. Every time except…

You clear your throat, rubbing a hand over the back of your neck as you stare out through the city, the moon beginning to arch high in the night sky as stars blink in and out overhead. 

These visions of the two of you are different. He never kills you, he never hurts you. He comes into your home, time and time again, but it's… gentle. A vicious, clawed hand smoothing delicately over your cheek. Lips pressed against your forehead. His wings wrapping around you as he pulls you close. The two of you in your bed and he -

A car honks somewhere near you, another one of Gotham's near-constant scuffles as tires swerve down the darkened, busy street. It's enough to make you jump, though, ripping you from the daydream that you'd found yourself in.

"Are you alright?"

"What?" you snap, flinching as you find the young officer standing next to you again.

"You look flushed," he points out. "It's like - are you blushing?"

"No!" you all but shout. "I'm going home." He might have responded to you, then. He may have shouted after you, some comment about how that's what he's been trying to get you to do the whole time. But you're not listening, too busy stomping away as images of the hulking, feathered creature plague your mind.

It's that night, of course, that you get a new vision. It's just as confusing as they always are, a tangled mess of images and objects jumbling together in your mind. You catch glimpses of your window - and you're sure that it really is the living room now. You see his clawed, feathered hand slamming against the glass of a window pane. You see the broken shards and the opening that's left behind. You see… a trail of blood on some of the sharp edges and you know that it must be yours.

Fortunately, it's Gotham, so it's not really out of the ordinary to want to install metal bars on your window. When you stumble out of bed just as the sun is beginning to climb up beyond the impossible wall of fog, it's with the intent of sealing your apartment off, closing your home off from the outside world. 

The city outside has begun to crush you, and you realize it, in a far-off, unfazed kind of way, when you begin installing bars onto the windows in your home. It's a cursed, entangled sort of place, and you can feel it start to ensnare you, getting tighter and tighter and tighter. 

First, it's your bedroom that's sealed off, then your kitchen, then your bathroom. One by one, every opening that you have to something beyond yourself is closed off, shut out, put away, until it's nothing but you and the nightfall and the large, looming presence of your living room window.

Easy to buy, yes, but difficult to install, you realize, as you struggle to wield the hefty metal. It shouldn't be a surprise, really, that one of the bars slips from your grasp and topples into the window. You should've seen it coming, you think ruefully, as you lunge to catch it just a moment too late, watching as it shatters through the glass, instead. 

But there's a panic in you now, as the cold night air comes swirling into your home, the window now a gaping maw letting in the city outside and below. You scramble a bit, the alarm of it all making you hazy as you reach for the metal bar, missing it to instead cut your palm on the broken glass of the window. 

You find yourself reeling, then, as you stare at the jagged edge that's now glistening with your blood, as you look down to your palm, oozing red and dripping down your arm and onto your floor, and you realize that this is what you'd seen in your vision.

But it's then that you hear it - that eerie, familiar tapping and scratching at the glass. The air freezes a bit more, it feels, as your breath catches in your lungs and your heart stutters. There's a part of you that thinks that perhaps, if you don't look up, it won't be real.

So it's against your better judgement, then, that you lift your head in a slow, shaky movement, letting your eyes trail up and up and up until -

Until you're faced with a huge, feathered hand, blackened claws curling around the broken glass and reaching into your home from the opening that you'd created. Night has truly fallen outside, rendering the world invisible as it's shrouded in darkness. You can't see him, can't make out anything other than the hand stretching out from the impossibly endless night. 

But the lamp on your living room end table flickers out a dull, yellow light, illuminating your figure for him. You may not be able to see him, but he can see you, and he reaches with a sharp, curling movement toward you. 

It hits you again, in that moment, terrified as you are. In all of your efforts to keep him away, you've let the Mothman right into your home. The further you pushed, the clearer the way in became.

There's some sort of commotion on the road below, then, it seems - some kind of accident, most likely, as there are shouts and honking horns and screeching tires. The noise of it all jerks you into action, makes you jerk back and stumble away as blood drips down your arm and your vision swims with panic. 

But it makes the Mothman startle, too, it would appear, as he pulls his arm back to slam his hand against the glass, just like he had in your vision. By the time you've scrambled forward to stare out the window, he's just… gone. 

You peer down towards the street from your window and see some sort of situation on the road below, people already gathered around what you're sure has to be a body lying on the sidewalk as police sirens wail in the distance.

It hits you, then, like a cold, dead hand clamping down on your heart. You brought the Mothman here. You gave him a reason to be here, and surely he's killed again right here because of you. The thought makes your knees buckle, and you slide down toward your floor until you're sitting on the cold hardwood as the epiphany of it all slams into you. 

No matter what you do, no matter where you go, he finds you. All of the effort that you're putting into keeping him away, all of the walls you're building up and the defences that you're crafting - you seem to actually just be bringing him closer. Somehow, in this twisted, tangled city, you've found a way to spiral around each other endlessly, your hands around each other's throats and doom carved into each other's hearts.

Instead of you haunting him, he's haunting you, now. You can't fight it. You can't stop it. You can't change fate. So you decide, as you sit on your floor with your palm oozing blood and the sounds of Gotham's chaos rolling in through your broken window - you decide, then, that you'll just run away. Surely, you think. Surely, there's only so far that he can chase you. 

"Look, really, are you alright?" the officer speaking to you squints at you a bit, eyeing you through the haze of dusk as the sun sets on another accident, another crime scene, another death. "Are you… ok?" 

You're trying to listen to him, really, you're trying to nod and smile and tell him that everything's fine. You want everything to be fine. But the problem is the vision that you'd woken up with, the one that had left you gasping and gripping your chest and tearing at your hair. 

It was a vision of him, of the young, green officer in front of you who'd spent these past months watching you spiral into nothing. You'd seen him, in vague, spinning flashes, getting into his car and driving home late into the night.

You'd seen the collision somewhere downtown, on one of the large main roads. You'd seen his car, crumpled and smoking as sirens wailed in the distance.

You'd seen him die, you're sure of it. 

"There's been an accident," you blurt out, and he raises his brows and glances around.

"Yes," he says slowly. "I know. That's… why we're here. You don't need to be, though."

"No, I -" you pause, searching frantically for something to say, some kind of lifeline to grab onto in this endless, gnawing place. "I mean - a different one. I hear that, uh, a couple of the main roads have been blocked off. Horrible traffic, it would take forever to get through."

"Oh," he says slowly, his hands a bit outstretched towards you, as if he's afraid that you'll suddenly keel over from whatever's afflicting you, whatever is giving you those shifting, panicked eyes and making you shuffle on your feet. "What, in this area?"

"Hm?"

"The accident," he reminds patiently.

"Yes!" you say, snapping your fingers. "Yea, uh, right… right up in, uh, that direction." He turns to follow your pointed finger, glancing down the street as you clear your throat and look at him expectantly.

"Huh," he says, a bit of understanding dawning on him. "Another Tim Drake problem, then."

"What?" 

"Drake. You know, he's that guy everyone around here talks about. More money than morals, works near here."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say bluntly before you bite your tongue, cursing yourself as the shadows spiral overhead and the city leers at you, the buildings closing in around you. 

"That… must have been what the accident was about, right?" the officer continues, suspicion creeping back into his voice. "You know… you know they say he's trying to find a way to bring back the dead."

"Beg your pardon?" you ask weakly.

"Yea," he responds easily, and you can tell from the sigh in his voice that he doesn't actually believe it. They never do. "He's a real mad scientist."

"You can't," you falter. "That's impossible. What's dead… stays dead."

"Apparently not," he quips back, but at your ashen face and swaying posture, he places a gentle hand onto your shoulder. "Hey, I'm - I'm only joking. He just causes a lot of problems for us, is all."

"Right," you respond shortly, forcing out a laugh that has his concern growing. "It's just, uh, it's just a normal accident up there tonight. Car crash, I heard. You know."

"Hm," he shrugs, pulling his hand away from you to cross his arms over his chest. "Yea, there's a few too many of those these days."

"I just think that, uh," you continue on, your eyes darting around the street, glancing at the towering buildings that loom high up above you. You rub a hand over your forehead roughly when you catch, or you think you catch the flickering shadow of a wing out of the corner of your eye. "I just think that the bridge is a better route to take tonight. If, you know, you - I mean… it's - it's the way that I'll be going… because of, uh, the accident, remember?"

"No," he says gently, his voice slow and a bit halting as he watches you with concern. "I… I don't remember that, because I don't even know… well… uh, thank you. You, um, you be careful out there, alright? Get home safely."

"Hey," you laugh, a hysterical sort of thing as a shadow flashes overhead and you duck a bit. "You be careful, you know?"

"What?" he asks, the bewilderment creeping up on him a bit too much, the unease of it all crawling up his arms and beginning to wrap around his throat as the city curls inward and casts darkness onto the two of you and the sun dips far enough below the horizon that its precious light is lost once more. "No, I - do you need a ride home?"

"No!" you all but shout. "No, sorry, uh, no, my car is just parked around the corner… and I'm leaving now." You spin around at that, walking swiftly down the winding, cracked sidewalk until you find your car, all but ripping open the door to climb in as the officer watches, bewilderment and concern carved onto his face. 

You're not sure how long you sit in your car after that, your hands gripping the steering wheel as you place your forehead against your knuckles and force deep breaths in and out of your lungs. Time drips on and you see, out of the corner of your eye, the city continues to darken as night wears on and the crime scene is wrapped up, police leaving in flashes of blue and red and blue again. 

But you've done it this time, you're sure. You've been quicker, you've been smarter. You've cheated death of another victim - held back the Mothman, if only for a single night. 

It makes sense to you, of course, for you to take the bridge home, yourself. The threat of the Mothman is an ever-present weight bearing down on your shoulders and you can feel yourself scrambling, like a prey animal finally caught in a trap, to try to get away from him. With the memories of your visions still rolling through your mind endlessly, it feels only right to finally settle yourself in the driver's seat and begin to turn away, away from the main roads and the locations of your nightmares and the looming, hulking, shadow of the Mothman.

Surely, you think. Surely, this time, I'll rewrite fate just enough to make it matter. Surely, this time, something will change.

There's a sort of anguish in you, then, when you arrive at the bridge and have to slam on your brakes and bring your car to a screeching halt. It's a misery that burns you, that crawls up your throat and strangles you as the tangled web of the city closes in further. 

The police are already there, illuminating the depths of the night with their lights as they circle a car crash. It's a cop car, in fact, that's part of the collision, crumpled and smoking and warped under the endless darkness of night. 

And it's his car, that lovely young officer that you'd spoken to so many times. It's his licence plate, as clear as it had been in your visions. 

Sirens wail through the foggy air and water rushes under the bridge and your heart hammers so loudly that you swear to god it could beat out of your chest in a minute. 

Beyond the accident, beyond the cars and the police that swarm the scene, beyond the death that permeates the air and rots the ground beneath you… beyond all of that stands the Mothman, huge and terrifying and staring straight at you. 

No one else can see him, you assume - the idea that you'd toyed with for so long finally coming to life. No one can see him but you. He stands still, unmoving, unbreathing, unflinching, his feet solid on the dark asphalt as his wings spread so wide that they brush against the sides of the bridge.

He stands, like an omen of death, like a symbol of your neverending failures, and he stares at you with glowing, yellow, unblinking eyes. 

An officer knocks on your car window and you scream, a short, shrieking noise until you snap your head around to look at him and sigh. He says something as he shines his flashlight into your car, but you just shake your head and roll down the window.

"Pardon?" you ask, your voice cracking. You're not looking at him, though. Your eyes are still trained, instead, on the presence of the Mothman, the mass of black feathers and razor-sharp claws and bright, yellow eyes boring into you. 

"You've got to move along," the officer repeats. "We're trying to get the ambulances through here, those drivers need medical attention."

"Medical attention?" you all but shout, ripping your eyes away from the Mothman to stare at the cop who's leaning down to talk through your window. "They're alive?"

"Yes…" he says slowly. "It wasn't a terrible accident. But - please, we really need you to move along. If you need to cross the bridge, that's fine. Just go now and go quickly, will you?" When you look ahead of you again, the Mothman is still there, standing like a statue guarding the tightrope between life and death.

It doesn't make sense, you think as you roll up your window without another word, driving ever so slowly past the officer and across the bridge. It doesn't make sense. If he's not here to kill someone else, then who…

Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly enough that the leather creeks as you pass the scene of the accident, staring at the creature right ahead of you the entire time. You're going slowly, practically crawling over the bridge as the Mothman stares down at you, still unmoving. 

It's not until you're close enough to almost hit him that he finally shifts ever so slowly, stepping to the side so that he can watch as you drive past him. You don't look, of course, your breath stuttering as you keep your head facing forward, knowing that his yellow eyes are fixed on you as you drive past. When his wings, still outstretched and menacing, scrape their feathers across the side of your car, you suck in a shaky breath and wonder what it's like to die.

But nothing… happens. You drive on, over the bridge and away from the scene, and the Mothman simply stares, fixed in his spot, as you disappear down the winding, twisting road. Here, on the outskirts of Gotham, the large manor houses loom over you as the city retreats behind you and disappears in the thick, foggy night and the rolling tides of the water. It's greener here, trees sprouting up into forests in tangled, maze-like patterns, and there's something in you that makes you take a sharp turn, heading toward the woods. 

He's been following you, you know, trailing after you this entire time. You catch glimpses of him out of the corner of your eye as you drive, seeing the flicker of his shadow overhead, hearing the flutter of his feathered wings. It makes a sort of desperation begin to swirl in you, a panic begin to fester in your mind as you begin to drive into the shadowed forest.

When the trees are too densely packed for your car, you merely park and throw open your door, stumbling as you continue on foot. Any other time, any other person would say that this is crazy, that you're some poor, lost soul stumbling to their death, likely to freeze or starve somewhere in the woods after straying too far from home. 

But you've been far too lost for far too long to stop now, and running away, you're beginning to realize, might be all that you really know how to do. 

Perhaps you shouldn't be surprised, really, that you run directly into the creature, somewhere deep in the depths of this impossible forest. Perhaps coming face-to-face with him really was always going to happen, and none of the erratic twists and turns you took could have ever prevented it.

Perhaps, you think as he stands in front of you, huge and terrifying and dark as the night, his eyes shining in the haze, perhaps there is really nothing that you can do against fate.

You think that maybe you should run, maybe you should try endlessly to scramble away from this… to defy the inevitable. You're shifting on your feet, bracing yourself to bolt away from him, when he speaks, and the sound makes you freeze. 

"You cannot run from this any more than I can," he says clearly, and his voice is a low, smooth rumble. You stare at him, eyes wide as the air leaves your lungs in a punched-out gasp, and he continues. "That is the curse. You cannot run, you cannot hide… you cannot break it."

"Who are you?" you ask weakly.

"You know what I am," is his only response.

"Who are you?" you repeat, your voice louder this time as you step forward. He blinks, his yellow eyes glowing through the night, as you squint at him. "Or is your only name Death?"

"I… am not death," he says slowly, a frown tugging on his lips as you continue to walk toward him. When you get close enough and crane your head back to look up at him, you can even see his face under all of the feathers and shadows, and he looks… he looks almost human underneath it all. "My name is Damian… and I am nothing more than an omen."

You're not sure what possesses you to reach up, leaning onto your toes so that you can reach for his face, brushing feathers away until you can see him clearly. Smooth skin and downturned lips, furrowed brows and his eyes, his bright yellow eyes staring at you through the darkness. 

"An omen?" you repeat questioningly. He hums in affirmation, his knees slightly bent and his shoulders and back hunched so that you can let one of your hands smooth across his face. 

"I see them, these deaths," he continues in his low, rumbling voice. "I watch, but I cannot change. You… you understand this, do you not?" You huff out a surprised breath at his words, jerking back like you've just remembered yourself and stumbling to create distance between the two of you. He straightens at your actions, watching you carefully as you twist your hands together and feel, as if for the first time, the biting cold of the night. 

"You're killing those people," you say harshly, but he merely stares.

"I am not… any more than you are."

"What?" you say, and you feel the air freeze in your lungs. "I'm not - I didn't kill anyone. I just - I keep seeing it and I'm… I'm trying to stop it, I'm trying to save people but I don't -"

"You are not responsible," he speaks over you, and you swear that you hear an exasperated sigh from somewhere deep within him. "That is our curse… you must watch, but you cannot change. It does not ever change."

"Then why…" you falter, searching frantically for some sort of answer, some sort of way out of this tangled snare. "Why were you there? Why are you here?"

"I am an omen," he repeats. "Where death trails through, I am to appear."

"That's it?" you say weakly. "You just… you stand and you watch? Over and over again?"

"You…" he says slowly, "would understand that, I think." You laugh at that, a high-pitched, hysterical sort of noise that makes a bird somewhere nearby squawk.

"Yea, uh, I guess - I guess I would," you say as you rub a hand over your forehead in a harsh way, squeezing your eyes shut. You try to breathe deeply for a moment, try desperately to move the freezing air through your lungs, but there's something in you that's strangling you, that's tugging at your heart and making it beat strangely in your chest.

You're just starting to consider that maybe you really should just be thrown into Arkham when a hand, huge and clawed and ever so gentle, wraps around your wrist and brings your palm away from your face. When you look up at him with wide eyes, he's staring down at you, hunched over so that he can be close to your face.

"Why are you hunting me like this?" you ask quietly, your voice a tired whisper. His brows furrow together and he frowns again.

"I'm… courting you."

"…Pardon?"

"We understand each other, I think," he explains, straightening to look down at you while he keeps his fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist. His wings arc out behind him, blocking out the moon and the small sliver of brightness that it had blessed you with. 

"I don't… think we do," you respond hesitantly, but he just shakes his head.

"It is a curse, this life… to see but not speak, watch but not move. It is… lonely, this life. It is lonely to be us."

"So what, we…" you let your eyes dart around as his words wrap around you and make your head spin. "We just… I don't know, what, we're not alone when we're together, I suppose?"

"It is true," he says simply. "We are not alone in this place… you are not alone with me by your side."

"I thought you were trying to kill me!" you shout, pulling your arm away from his grip. He lets you, much to your shock, making a low, panicked sort of sound when he can't loosen his grip fast enough and his claws scrape against his skin. Your hand's already bandaged from the incident with your broken window, and now long, angry, red lines curl across your skin from him. 

"I have never killed anyone," he says quickly - firmly. "I have not."

"I thought -," but you cut yourself off, burying your face into your hands to let out choppy, shuttering breaths. The creature makes another pained, whining sort of sound and when you peek between your fingers, he's kneeling in front of you so that you're face-to-face, and his eyes… his eyes look so human as he stares at you with agony.

"I would never hurt you," he says firmly, but then his eyes glance down at the scrapes on your hand and he shrinks back. "Not - not on purpose. I would never lay a hand on you like that." You take a deep, shaky breath and look at him, your breath coming out in foggy gasps from the cold.

"What were you doing on the bridge tonight, then?" you ask firmly. "Why didn't that cop die?"

"I was not there for him," he says simply, frowning at you. "I was there for you."

"Then why did I see it? I saw him die -"

"Did you?" the creature cuts you off gently. "Or did you just… see him crash?"

"Well, I -," you falter, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment as if to try to see the visions again before looking at Damian once more. "I… the visions are always of death. Always except for that one and -"

"And?" he prompts. You just press your lips together, flashes of your visions with Damian running through your mind. 

"How can you think that something like this could ever work?" you ask tiredly, a weak distraction as you let your forehead thump against his feathered shoulder and revel in the warmth that radiates from him. He rumbles somewhere deep in his chest and he spreads his wings further to wrap around the two of you, cocooning you in heat and darkness as his eyes bathe you in a yellow glow. 

"Is there a reason why it should not?" he asks in return, letting one of his hands find your waist while the other lifts to your cheek so that he can stroke a knuckle across your skin. You huff a bit at his easy demeanour, but with your eyes closed all that you can think of are those visions.

"I - I've seen you," you admit.

"You have?" he asks mildly.

"Yes. I've seen you - us. I've seen…" but you trail off, thankful that the darkness can hide the heat raging in your cheeks.

"You're blushing, beloved," he points out, though, and you curse yourself for not thinking that of course he can see through the impossible darkness of the night. 

"Shut up," you respond quickly.

"Not… death visions, then, I suppose?" he asks, and your eyes narrow at the playful, near-smug way that he speaks. 

"Not quite," you grit out. 

"Well, that is delightful, is it not?" he says smoothly, his voice keeping that deep, low, rumble as he leans back to look at you more clearly. "That you've accepted me?"

"I have not," you say stubbornly, but you bury your face into his feathers again, hiding your face from view while he laughs. 

"Well, that is alright," he says soothingly, brushing a hand over the back of your head. "Is this a rejection? If it is not, I'll keep trying." You grumble something under your breath, turning his words over and over and over in your mind. Would it be so bad, you think, to not be alone?

"It's… it's not. It's not a rejection," you say weakly, and when you lift your head to look at him once more, you learn that monsters can still smile. 

It's several months later, past the time of year when the cold fully sets in, and then even further past when it begins to thaw - it's then, when the ground shifts as warmth rolls in and fog begins to get muggy and sticks to your skin, that you find yourself curled up on a little fold out chair on your fire escape. You're sitting with your legs propped up on the chair with the rest of you so that you can lean your chin on your knee and stare up at the stars, at the endless pricks of light that sit just beyond the reach of this terrible, cursed city. 

It's been one of those nights, where the visions just won't leave and they wrap around you and squeeze until you're tossing and turning and gasping for breath. It's one of those nights where you wonder why it's you who's cursed, why it's you who feels so caught in the tangled thread of life and death that runs through this city. 

It's one of those nights where you think, rather desperately, that there must be some way to change what you are and what's laid out ahead of you. 

But it is a bit different already, you suppose, as a fluttering shadow stretches overhead and you glance up to see the outstretched wings of the Mothman as he swoops and dives through the darkened night sky.

It is different, because there's a new routine that you and Damian have now, where you catch each other when one of you stumbles and falls. 

It is different, if for nothing other than the fact that neither of you face death alone. 

"What's wrong, my love?" Damian's voice rings down from somewhere above you, deep and smooth as you feel the warm night air swirling while his wings beat. He's rather graceful as he lands, perched on the railing of your fire escape, the weight of him making the metal groan and creak underneath him.

"What are you doing here?" you quip, but there's no real bite in your voice as you stand and lean into him, letting him wrap an arm around your waist while you press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

"Can't you sleep?" he asks in lieu of answering. When you sigh heavily and shake your head, a frown tugs at his lips and his yellow eyes blink down at you.

"Not tonight," you answer quietly, and you shrink in on yourself just a bit. The action is enough to make an empathetic whine sound from his chest before he wraps you fully in his arms and lifts you off of your feet.

"I'll stay with you," he says simply, but you huff a bit in his arms as he settles where you'd been sitting before, letting you curl into his lap while he wraps his wings around the two of you, sealing you into a little hold of safety against the looming horror of the city beyond the two of you. 

"Damian, you don't have to…" you trail off, and he looks at you pointedly when you sink into the warmth of his embrace, relaxing in his hold. 

"But why wouldn't I?" he asks simply. You do nothing but squirm and shrug a bit, toying with some of the feathers that cover his chest. 

"Isn't there somewhere else to be?" you ask quietly. A laugh rumbles from him as you press your face into his neck and bury your hands into the soft, bluish-black feathers. 

"Like where?" he asks, a hint of mirth in his voice. "Out there? Staring death in the face? What a thing to do when I have you right here." He says it so simply, always. And you suppose that, really, he's right.

Sometimes life, you suppose, just… is what it is. Sometimes there is no fighting what you are. But why do it alone? Why not do it right here, in the arms of a monster who's learned how to love?

[frenchkisstheabyss]

ａｌｌ ♡ ｒｏｕｎｄｅｒ

♡ I love that I've been getting so many Hyunjin requests lately. He isn't even my bias but, like, this is my boyfriend at this point ya'll ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!hyunjin x thick!fem!reader

♡ Summary: Just a sweet, rainy car ride with your boyfriend that gets a little spicy.

♡ Genre: fluff/smut

♡ Word Count: 824

♡ Warnings: fingering & that's all really

Today Hyunjin took you on a picnic. The plates and utensils were forgotten on the kitchen counter, leaving you to eat everything with your hands. What a mess. The wildflowers in the meadow you settled on were gorgeous but you discovered much too late that Hyunjin was allergic. And then there was the rain. He’d checked the weather…right? With anyone else, this would’ve been a disaster. A spring afternoon ruined by a series of unfortunate events.

But with Hyunjin, well, it was the exact opposite. Not having plates or utensils meant that you had to find new, inventive ways to eat your food. It meant that you got to eat cake from the palm of his hand. That he licked frosting from the tip of your nose and smiled at the way it crinkled. Thankfully his reaction to the flowers hadn’t been severe, resulting only in a few cute sneezes that you couldn’t help but giggle at. 

The rain had come down hard, leaving you both drenched from head to toe. But you got to run in the rain, hand in hand with your boyfriend, losing half of the things that you packed in the process. The two of you laughed when he dropped his keys, cursing the universe for setting you up like this. It was a disaster but with him it was beautiful. A core memory to smile about when you’re old and gray.

So on the ride home, you’re not pouting, wondering what could’ve been. No, you’re sitting in the passenger’s seat drawing hearts in the fog on the windows. The mellow music flowing from the radio fits perfectly with the light pitter-patter of rain on the roof of the car. It would ease up now. Hyunjin rests his hand on your thigh, fingers tapping along to the beat of the song, as the car comes to a red light. Almost immediately you feel him staring at you, soft brown eyes peering into your soul in the most sensual way possible. 

“See something you like?” you tease, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Hyunjin smiles, brushing his cheek against the palm of your hand, “Always.” “You’re so cute” you squeak, still soft for him after two years together. “You’re so cute” he whispers, planting a kiss on your wrist. Dragging you deeper into his gaze, he slides his hand up your skirt, massaging your inner thigh. You inhale sharply when his fingers part your plush thighs to brush your clit.

A car horn honks behind you, scaring you half to death. “The light’s green,” you say, turning Hyunjin’s head back toward the road, “Drive.” And he does but his fingers are still working between your thighs, making your stomach flutter. “Focus on the road, Hyunjin.” “Don’t worry'' his eyes flick over to you, his hand moving up to your waist to slip into your panties, “I’m an all rounder.” 

You roll your eyes at him. Hyunjin can be so cocky sometimes. He’s not lying though. He manages to keep his eyes on the road, maneuvering through traffic in the rain, with one hand on the wheel and the other stroking your velvet folds. The more he toys with you, fingers sinking into your warmth, the wider your legs part. The wider your lips part. Weighted breaths add to the fog on the windows, washing away the adorable doodles you’d made no less than a minute ago.

You bite down on your lip, eyes falling closed. It’s effortless, losing yourself in him. Hyunjin fingers you like he dances. A flawless combination of grace and passion. Of gentleness and intensity. The quiet and the storm all at once. He may have forgotten to check the weather but he could never forget your body. He knows you. Knows what you like. What makes you clench around his fingers like you’re doing right now. 

It’s nothing short of pure bliss to have him stroking you…spreading you…basking in the moisture of your needy little pussy. The car stops again, another red light, and Hyunjin pops his seatbelt off. Without warning he’s kissing you, pillowy lips against yours, his tongue tasting the remnants of the strawberry cake you made together. He quickens his pace, his wrist working faster to bring you to your high.

You grab his arm as you writhe beneath him. The car might as well be moving, speeding down the highway at warp speed, with the way your heart races. He slips his fingers out of you, making a V shape that lightly pinches your clit between them, and you’re coming, soaking those pink panties he loves so much. 

Just in time to make the green light, he’s back in his seat, pulling off as he licks you from his fingers the same way he did his lunch. “Told you” he sings, a mischievous smirk on his face, “All rounder.”

[breathe-101]

The long drive home!

Characters: Jacob Scipio and writer.

Dear diary,


Hehehe, look at you and your nosy self.

There's some PG18 stuff I need to share.

As you were!


Sooooo, I’ve been dating Jacob for about six months now.

It was my idea to keep it private of course.

Honestly, after loving him from a distance for so long, I just wanted to give it a chance.

You know better than anyone that he's my first boyfriend.

It's exciting but I can't really say I'm not scared.

Just a little. Okay, maybe a lot.

Oh my days what the fork am I saying!


Anyway, having flown in this morning he insisted on picking me up after work.

I didn’t want him to cause man needed sleep.

The press tour was long and to expect anything from him now was just ridiculous.

We settled on spending the weekend together.

It’s been a hectic week and sleep was all I wanted really.

I don’t think coffee is the answer anymore, might just give myself heart failure at this rate.
 
Oooo and before we move on with the story, I actually said goodbye to my colleagues before leaving the office today.

Talk about progress.

Still don't really like them though.

Anyways, back to the story.


Jacobs black Jaguar pulled up out front.

Sprinting to the car, my first thought was to get the fuck out of there before my colleagues

had something to write about in the group chat.

Forget the butterflies of excitement welling up in my tummy, those villians gossip like fish wives.


Jumping in, there he was, you know.

After weeks of FaceTiming he was actually here.

‘Hi’ I whispered. It was all I could manage in that moment.

No judgement please!


Jacobs hair had grown longer.

Dark curls bouncing effortlessly as he moved his head, looking at me then the road again.

I hadn't even realised we’d started moving.

He had one hand on the wheel and the other now resting comfortably on my thigh giving it a slight squeeze.

You know that grip.

The one that makes you all giddy. Ahhhhh!!!


Okay, so. My eyes made their way down his face, his skin looked good.

Clear and somehow giving off a glow.

He didn’t have any makeup on having had the morning off.

I liked his bare face.

His almond eyes looked more defined against his now darker completion.

Guess the Florida sun agrees with him cause even his lashes looked longer.
The car came to a sudden stop.

Red light.

Lips parting slowly, his face turned towards me and he finally whispered,

‘Hi'. You knowwww, the way guys do when they want you to lean in closer cause you can't hear what they're saying.

Hmmmmm, I see you Jacob!


I watched him unable to speak.

I had so many things I wanted to tell him about

and so many questions to ask but, nothing.

I just happily stared at the amused expression on his face.

His scent filled my nose as he placed his hand on my cheek, outlining my brow then gliding down to rest on my neck.

‘I missed you' he whispered again.

Aaaahhhhh! (Hand on the chest level of excitement)


I followed his inspecting eyes as they made their way up my body.

Starting with my stocking covered legs, then a glance at my full thighs.

Eyes stopping at my chest, Jacob slowly released a deep breath then quickly looked me in the eye.

I could feel him moving closer, fingers caressing the short hair on the back of my neck.

Beeeeeeep!

His gaze sharply turned back to the road as the honking snapped us out of the moment.

Seriously!


It was a long drive to my apartment.

I'd just started a new job and hadn't found a closer place yet.

Note to self, get that sorted ASAP.

He'd packed a bag for the weekend and had several paper bags I didn't recognise.

I wanted to ask but exhaustion got the better of me.

We drove in silence.

Both of us reluctant to disturb the heavy tension in the air.

We'd said a few words about our weekend plans then continued an amusing dance of stealing glances at each other. 
This was all new to me. I'd never really liked someone this much.

I just wanted to touch him.

Feel the weight of his legs wrapped around me and rest my head on his chiseled chest.

He'd been working out.

I could tell. Jacobs arms had grown bigger more defined.

The dark T-shirt hugged his bicep as he loosely held the wheel.

I could see the outline of his abs under the fitted shirt.

His waist looked smaller against his broad shoulders.

His legs had grown bigger, leaner.

Jacob was holding my hand now, squeezing it lightly, stroking my finger with his thumb.

Keep it together girl!


We made a quick stop to get some snacks for the road then continued home.

The heavy atmosphere and smooth car ride made me drowsy.

I wanted to look at him longer but my eyes were fighting a losing battle.

I'd forgotten just how cute he was when he was happy.

Jacobs face broke into a mischievous smile, amused by the drowsy look on my face.


'I thought you were excited to see me. How dare you fall asleep.' He chuckled,

admiring my blushing face unaware of the Pervy thoughts flying around in there.

I let out a lazy laugh, pulling his warm hand closer to my chest.


Jacob moved his hand down to my legs, slowly caressing my inner thigh.

I looked up at him, eyes half closed.

The sky had grown dark, low lights hitting his face, outlining his now fuller beard.

He looked good, really good.

Jacobs hand slowly made its way further between my legs, strong fingers sliding their way against my tight stockings.

I shifted, slightly parting them in response.

Feeling a strong tug, they ripped making way for his fingers.

Hand lightly tracing the ladder paving its way down my inner thigh, his grip on the wheel tightened.


The car stopped.

Red light.

Taking advantage of the short pause, he leaned over, his face right up against mine.

Moving even closer, breathing heavily, I anticipated the feel of his warm, full lips... but he stopped. Such a tease!

His warm breath now flowed into my slightly parted lips.

I was struggling to keep my eyes open but I craved him.

I craved the mouth I hadn't felt for three weeks.

I wanted to bite his plump lip, feel him wince against me then aggressively come back for more.

Invading my mouth, not knowing where his saliva started and mine ended.

Licking the blood off his lip wanting more of him on my tongue.

Girrrrl who are you!

Holding my gaze, he slowly lowered my car seat then turned to face the road.

‘Rest.' He demanded.

The car started moving again.

‘You fiend' I muttered under my breath.


I could feel my body fully relax into the seat as sleep came over me.

But his hand started moving again this time moving closer .

Hhhmmmm This man will be the death of me, I swear.

I'd like to sleep now ,Sir. If you don't mind.'

He let out a deep chuckle, pinching my thigh in the process.

I jumped surprised by the sudden attack.

I smacked his hand and he chuckled again. 'Such a tease' I muttered accusingly.


The hand crept even closer caressing back and forth,

reaching its goal then moving away again.

The frustration from exhaustion and this slow seduction had my body screaming.

Eyes closed I grabbed his hand and slowly guided it up to where we both wanted it.

Parting my legs further, I arched my back, moving my hips higher up the seat to give him a better view.

‘I’d like to drive if you don't mind' his deep voice tugging at my stomach.

I chuckled leaning my head back giving him a good view of my now exposed throat.

‘You can have your hand back if you need it. You seem to be doing just fine with one'.

‘Hmmm' he reluctantly moaned in agreement.


The car stopped, another red light.

Sitting up, I moved closer to him.

Squeezing his hand tighter between my thighs.

I stared into his eyes, reflecting the GPS light. Moving his other hand off the wheel,

I placed it firmly around my throat, squeezing slightly.

We stared at each other desire hanging heavy in the small space.

Eyes barely open I parted my lips, releasing a slow breath, coated with the smell of Maltesers, his favourite.

My hot breath hit his lips then moved down to his throat.

I swallowed.

Making sure his hand felt every inch of the movement before moving it slowly down to my erect nipple.

Orange light.

Peeling his hand off my breast, I returned it to the wheel.

Moving away, I settled back into my seat, fully closing my eyes.

Green light.

‘You should drive Mr Scipio. Don't want to hold up traffic now do we?’

Running his fingers through his hair, eyes fixated on my charged body, Jacob slowly accelerated.

‘You f*cking tease' he breathed, pinching my thigh again as he turned to face the road.

PS: I’ll tell you the rest later xx